#he must have been the most annoying child ever to have graced the earth

[annebd]

Why is he like this? (We all know why he's like this. And we love him for it.)

#daniel ricciardo #he must have been the most annoying child ever to have graced the earth #grace and joe deserve some kind of medal for not dropkicking his annoying ass out a window at least twice a day #he's lucky he was (and is) so damn adorable

[chanelsebbie]

𝗩𝗶𝗰𝗲 | 𝘀.𝗿.

✝ Warnings: SMUT, manipulation, dub-con, innocent!reader, age-gap, dark!bishop!steve rogers, branding. 

✝ Masterlist

✝ Summary: After being caught committing lustful acts, y/n is brought to the bishop for reconcile. 

✝ A/n:  Reader just turned 18, this is sinful, if you are offended, please don’t read. With that being said, after reading this, you best chug a gallon of holy water. 

𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉 𝖆 𝖇𝖎𝖌 𝖌𝖔𝖉

𝕭𝖎𝖌 𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖚𝖕

Florence + the Machine, Big God

“No! Let me go!” the girl with a small voice ordered futily, the sound echoing off the large corridors as the nuns pulling her along payed no mind. 

She fought against them, but it was useless, for it would only make their conviction worse. She had sinned, and like everything, sinning came with a grave price. Especially at the young woman’s academy. 

She knew the bishop would be cross. Not only for her sin but for the timing. It was in the late hours of the night, but there she was, caught red-handed and in nothing but a snow-white bra and panty set, being dragged through the empty halls of the institution, everyone else sleeping. 

Soon enough, she was faced with the large wooden double-doors of the bishop’s office, the lion knocker on the door seeming to snarl smugly at the girl as if it knew her fate. 

One of the nun’s calloused old fingers wrapped around the handle clutched in the metal feline’s mouth, before knocking three times, the young girl counting absentmindedly. 

A harsh and inharmonious voice called out an ill-toned ‘Come in’. The girl could have sworn she was on the verge of a panic attack. What she had done was wrong, but why did it feel so good?

The door was opened by one of her captors, walking her in before throwing her to the ground, her knees scraping up against the stone floors as she let out a pained yelp. She refused to look up, knowing that his eyes would be trained on her. 

“Archbishop Rogers,” one of the nun’s began, “We caught this young lady committing an act of lust, and demand her to repent and save her faith plagued with desire.”

The man stood up from his working desk, setting his pen down, stepping in front of the trembling girl, almost anticipating her to look up at him. 

“Leave us, sisters,” 

His voice sent a tight shock through her spine, making her scramble to her knees, her ass resting on her heels, folding her hands in front of her, waiting as if she were about to be struck. 

As soon as the great wooden doors closed, the bishop took a deep breath and began to speak. 

“Tell me,” he starts, “what is your vice?”

She quivered at the question, embarrassed to admit what she had truly did wrong. But in knowing that the longer it took to get it out of her, the more torturous the punishment would be.

“I-” she cleared her throat, “I h-have committed a lustful act,” she swallowed hard as she heard the man above her sigh, beckoning her to continue, “I feel as if I’ve been consumed by demons. The devil has put thoughts into my head... scandalous thoughts... and it creates such a tension between my legs,” she took in a shaky breath, “I can’t help but touch myself to relieve the pain.”

His jaw clenched at her confession, crossing his arms. 

“Do you understand the gravity of your actions?” he catechized her, making her nod her head ‘yes’.

“Yes, Archbishop Rogers, I do.” she now had the courage to look up at the man above her, “I am willing to do whatever it takes to be right by the Lord’s name,”

His crossed arms unraveled, one of his hands going down to cradle the girl’s cheek as she leaned into his touch like an obedient dog, desperate for the relief and to bear no malice to her God. 

When she looked up at him with her doe-like eyes, full of hope, there was a glint of guilt. 

“First, recite ‘Hail Mary’,” he commanded, her head now hanging low again, not noticing that his hands were now reaching his pants, the leather of his belt coming undone. 

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” she began, “The lord is with thee-”

Her face was suddenly jerked up, his hand wrapping around her head before pushing her forward, her open mouth suddenly filled with the mass of his cock, only half of her mouth consuming it. 

Her tongue squirmed as she tried to pull away, but the archbishop’s strength was unparalleled to hers, her struggles futile. Her hands went to his thighs to anchor herself. 

“A demon had infiltrated your mind, my child,” he grunted, “I know how to rid you of this evil, but you must do as I say.”

She did the best she could to nod her head, before getting pulled back by her hair. 

“Did I tell you to stop reciting?” he growled, “Don’t make me start you over,”

“Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit-” she was pulled forward violently back on his cock, deeper his time, his tip touching the back of her throat as she gagged, tears welling up in her eyes, doing her best not to bite down. 

She was pulled back once again, “of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary-”

Tears were now spilling down her face like a river, her face flushed as his cock seemingly went down her throat, the groans of her superior above her making her whimper. 

“Mother of God, pray for us sinners now,”

He didn’t pull her in this time like she was expecting, “and at the hour of our death.” she finished, panting as she winced at the archbishop’s killer grip on her hair, “Amen.”

“Remarkable job,” he praised, before standing her up, taking her hand and leading her to his desk, before harshly pushing her down against it, smirking at her gasping reaction. 

“P-Please? Haven’t we done enough?” she questioned, pleaded, earning her a slap on her ass, getting pulled up chest to back with him as his lips reached her ear. 

“I am a vessel of God,” he hissed, “And he lives through me as I do him. I’m cleansing you...,”

His fingers made their way under the hem of her underwear, pulling them down, her dripping cunt coming into view, the archbishop squatting down after pushing her back on the desk. She whimpered at the feeling of his breath against her sex, Rogers letting out a dark chuckle before leaning forward, licking a torturous strip across her slit. 

“God, you taste so good,” he groaned against her pussy, “why the fuck do you taste so good?” his rhetorical question made her clench. 

She let out a soft moan at the sexual touch that was for once, not her own. He did this several more times before he stood straight back up again. 

She whined when she felt his wide tip tease her entrance, circling his cock, the anticipation almost painful, his breathing echoing off the expanse of his large office. The moonlight shown through the stained glass windows, reflecting on the expanse of her back, making the archbishop all the more attracted to her seemingly supernatural glow. 

“Plea-” she was cut off by a loud moan ripping its way through her throat, the feeling of being stretched out so far painful.

“Fuck! Fuck, you’re so tight-” he cursed into the open air, his hands latching onto her hips when he bottomed out. 

He didn’t grace her with the opportunity to adjust, before he started to move, slowly, making her feel every ridge and vein. 

“You better start praying,” he coaxed, her head nodding.

“O-Our father, who art in h-heaven, gl-glory be thy name,” she whined out, making the man behind her rut his hips harder and harder with each verse, “hallowed be th-thy name. Thy kingdom c-come,” she paused to catch her breath, earning her a harsh tug on her scalp.

“Didn’t tell you to stop,” he growled, bushing harder and faster inside her. 

“thy will be done, on earth, as it is in h-heaven, g-give us this day our da-ily bread and... and...,” her brain was fogged with pleasure as he was getting pounded into, Rogers annoyed at her reluctance. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” he degraded, “don’t make me start you over,” his pace slowing down. 

She whined before starting again, “forgive us our tr-trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against u-us-”

She clenched around him, making him let out a genuine moan, and it was the most angelic sound she had ever heard, a coil tightening inside her as she cursed silently. 

“Come on, princess, we can finish it together,” he offered. 

“P-Please,” she gasped, gagging on air as she did her best to keep a level head and know what she was supposed to say next. 

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” they said in perfect sync. 

“Come on, so close, just-” before he could finish, he released inside of her with a yell, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

The warm feeling in her gut made the coil inside her snap as well as she fell off the deep end, long and passionate moans leaving her lips as she trembled and tensed from such an earth-shattering orgasm. 

The archbishop walked in front of the lit fireplace, poking at it with a fire poker before setting it down, the pointy end positioned over the fire. 

The girl thought nothing of it as she sat in an armchair, covered in nothing but a blanket as she gave a dopey smile to the nude man approaching her. He picked her up, before sitting himself down, placing her in his lap. 

Her head rested against his chest as he gently played with her hair. 

“Am I cleansed?” she questioned, nudging herself closer into him. 

After a small amount of time, he gave a quick, lack-luster response. 

“Yes.”

“What happens if the demons come back? If my thoughts turn sinful again?” she whimpered at the thought. 

“Well, I have a way I can make sure they don’t.” he smirked to himself, “Stand up, will you?”

She did as she was told; his perfect little obedient pet. Before she could question anything, she was grabbed by the wrists and slammed up above her head, her back against the wall next to the fire place, Steve reaching over and grabbing the bow heated fire poker.

It clicked for her as her eyes widened.

“W-Wait!” she squeaked, looking at the red-hot end of the fire poker, his fingers wrapped around it tightly. 

When the scalding metal touched the skin of her breast, she let out a pained cry, a sickening sizzle ringing through her ears as she sobbed. The burning touch seemed to last for ages, before it was finally brought away, but the pain never ceased. 

The shape made her stomach turn, the man pulling the girl in an embrace as she sobbed, shushing her.

There, over her right breast, was the mark of the lord. A blistering cross, that would be an eternal reminder of their shared moment together.

“In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit,” Steve spoke, right before her world went black from shock.

#steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rodgers #steve rodgers x reader #captain america #chris evans smut #priest!steve #dark!chris evans #dark!steve smut #dark!steve rogers

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy 28th! Here are all the fics I read this month. Check them out and leave a little love for the authors ♥

Party Lines | nonsensedarling | phone sex - dirty talk - 25k Louis works for a phone-sex operating company, collecting credit card information and transferring calls to different operators. On a particularly busy night, everyone is booked up, and one caller has been patiently waiting for more than a few minutes. In a split second decision –one he’s probably going to regret– Louis picks up the call himself. * Or Louis accidentally becomes a phone sex operator.

Milk Kinship | jaerie | a/b/o - breastfeeding - male lactation - lactation kink - strangers to lovers - 21k Harry had aspired to become a wet nurse since first learning about the honored and respected tradition when he was a teenager. The first documentary he’d seen had been detailed and brutally honest and Harry had still fallen in love with the idea. It’s origins were rooted in highly regarded positions of the royal staff and were credited in playing a role in the lives of some of the most famous children in history. There were medically trained wet nurses and other milk services for mothers unable to feed their babies, but true wet nurse nannies could only be afforded by the rich and famous. The glamorous life appealed to Harry even if his understanding of his role changed to a more realistic view over time. As a starry eyed kid, that was where he wanted to be. Or Harry is a wet nurse and isn't allowed to have an alpha. He may or may not break his vows.

In the Heat Where You Lay | Marchessa | a/b/o - established relationship - nesting - minor injuries - domestic fluff - 5k Louis has a hard time figuring out why his mate, Harry, acts strangely. What shady things the omega does behind his back? Why does he lie in his face when he is asking him about it? Or the one where Louis tries to balance work life and his marriage while he also has to protect Harry from himself since the omega is danger walking on two marvellously long legs at the best of times.

Everything I Didn't Say | denisemuriel | famous/not famous - mpreg - angst - miscommunication - One Night Stands - 25k "I'm going on tour soon and won't be here for most of the year and I think that's just not fair to you." Harry swallowed and brushed a loose curl out of his face. "That's why this won't happen again." Louis had to suppress a sob because he didn't want to cry in front of Harry. "Okay, I understand. It's probably better this way." Harry got up from his seat and walked over to Louis, who also got up. Slowly Harry raised his hand, giving Louis a chance to move away from him, but he allowed Harry to cup his face in his hand and press his forehead against his own. "I know you feel the same connection I do." Harry murmured softly against Louis' lips. "And I wish things were different. I know that if I stayed, I would fall in love with you." He admitted. ✩ Or the one where they meet at the wrong time and when Louis finds out he's pregnant the story gets sold out.

Searching For Lost Time | DuchessKitty16 | ballet - Hip Hop - pining - 16k Harry is a ballet dancer with special talents and a determination to make his dreams come true. Louis is a hip hop b-boy from Manchester who’s been given a chance to attend the prestigious Royal Academy of Dance in London. Louis feels like he has something to prove and show the rest of the dance world that hip hop is just as important an art form as anything other dance discipline. Harry and Louis clash at first and then learn that collaborating makes them stronger. Based on this prompt that I was given: Louis and Harry study at a dance academy. Harry studies ballet and Louis studies hip-hop. They both stay behind after classes to practice and they leave the doors of the rooms open. With their classes across each other, their music is loud and it annoys the other. After a few weeks, Harry and Louis discover that maybe ballet and hip-hop don't sound too bad together. AKA; the one where two types of dancing fit unexpectedly well together, much like Harry and Louis themselves.

Only You (Blue Always Stays True) | BeautifulWisdom | a/b/o - regency - Girl Direction - mutual pining - friends to lovers - 11k Regency AU. Lady Harriet falls for her sister's best friend the elusive Alpha Lady Louise who couldn't possibly return her tender feelings. Or could she?

you and all of heaven's other wonders | devilinmybrain (venomedveins) | Guardian Angel - supernatural elements - 25k "Louis Tomlinson." He starts, the deep voice dipping just a little in the seriousness of his tone. "As a child of the Most Holy, Heaven has seen your struggle on this earth and heard your cry. My name is - " At this point, he does something complicated with his throat, a sound much like a screeching bird and bells combined together before he continues. "and I have been sent here to be your guiding light. Fear not for the Lord is with you." "What?" Louis' accent comes out thicker in his disbelief, dropping consonants as he blinks up at the man. "I'm your-" The man shifts his weight, hesitantly bringing his hands together in front of him. It's an endearingly nervous habit. "I'm your guardian angel."

Lightning Strikes The Heart | Bekita and fournipplesau | a/b/o - Bridgerton AU - enemies to friends to lovers - fake/pretend relationship . regency - angst - fluff - smut - mpreg - 130k Shrewsbury, 1814 Dearest reader, I present to you your new bulletin of news regarding Shrewsbury citizen's activities. My name is Lady Merriweather and I will be in charge of the updates. I will make sure you are to know all the important details of what is to happen this season. You must know that you do not know who I am and you never shall. But be forewarned; I certainly do know you. I advise you to be on your best behaviour, lest you want the whole town to be privy of your business. As expected every year, the Lockhart House hosts the season’s opening ball, and its invitation is the motive of the hustle in town, and every family hopes for the invitation. This year is no different, but this year everyone's attention is focused on the new Duke of Montgomery, His Grace Harry Edward Styles, and whether he will attend it. All the omegas will be in their best manner, behaviour and clothes as it is expected. And here, dear reader is where we will find out which young omega might succeed at securing a match, hoping to not become a spinster. Place your bets.

Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes | softfonds | a/b/o - historical - strangers to lovers - fake/pretend relationship - hurt/comfort - mpreg - 59k What happens when a Duke who will only marry for love and a courtesan who only sells it create a public ruse? Well, nothing boring for sure. An Edwardian AU.

Maybe You'll Like the Way I Am | lululawrence | a/b/o - fake/pretend relationship - panic attacks - anxiety - PTSD - heart disease - hurt/comfort - friends to lovers - no smut - angst - 56k Harry stood on his doorstep, waving a little as he shuffled his feet. “Hi, I brought you some cookies.” Louis finally realized Harry was holding a plate with at least a dozen chocolate chip cookies. “How’d you know chocolate chip was my favorite?” Harry scrunched his nose. “I, uh, they’re actually peanut butter chocolate chunk, so I really hope you don’t have a peanut allergy. There’s a lot of peanut butter and chocolate in these. But also, I just hoped that was something you liked because I actually have a favor to ask?” When Louis' alpha neighbor asks him to pretend to be his omega for a week, Louis immediately says no. He has too much he's dealing with on his own, and he swore to himself he'd never get that close to an alpha again. Unable to hold to that resolve once guilt sets in, Louis finds that maybe fumbling his way through a fake relationship for a week was exactly what he needed to finally be able to move on.

Hint: I want to be yours | bluegreenish | a/b/o - friends with benefits to lovers - pining - 11k Thinking back to Harry’s rut, Louis shivers, needing to put effort into keeping other bodily reactions at bay. “Are you cold?” While Niall’s been commenting through the entire film, Harry had stayed mostly quiet, so it’s a surprise when he speaks up, eyes zeroed in on the omega. “Uh, yeah. It’s a bit chilly, innit?” Niall shrugs, dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and seemingly unbothered by the room temperature. Harry doesn’t ask for an explanation though. “You can have my hoodie, wait, here.” Before Louis can counter, Harry’s pulling the light grey piece of clothing over his head and handing it to the omega. or, the one where Harry unconsciously starts acting like Louis' alpha after they spend his rut together and Louis finds ways to make sure Harry's affection doesn't en

Always a Bridesmaid | kingsofeverything | age difference - weddings - sneaking around - secret relationship - fluff - 30k While Harry’s friends are all getting engaged or married, he’s nowhere near walking down the aisle to his own happily ever after. The night before his best friend’s wedding, Harry falls into bed with a silver haired stranger who makes him wonder what his own forever might look like.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #my fic rec #monthly reads #monthly fic rec #larry fics #completed fics #i put this together in a hurry so let me know if a fic isn't linked correctly

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 11- At Last

Summary: Finally reunited with Geralt, the two of you attempt to avoid Nilfgaard and find a tavern for the evening, although it appears destiny has other plans.

Warning: angst, fluff

 Masterlist

-last and final chapter my Witcher friends, that is until next season, and yes I will be continuing reader and Geralt’s story. There’ll be more monster slaying and adventures to come!

Within minutes after reuniting with your silver haired lover, did the two of you immediately find a spot elsewhere from the main trail for well...you know. A place hidden away from any unwanted prying eyes so that you both could show one another just how much you've desperately missed each other, in more ways then one. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so euphoric, perhaps that's just what making sweet love to your Witcher does to you. Even when he's pounding you against a tree while whispering the most dirtiest of sweet nothings into your ear.

You hadn't touched him like this in weeks, nor seen him for that matter, but he felt wonderful and seemed to be enjoying his time with you just the same. Though all too soon would your bodies have to part from one another's close embrace. All to your utter disappointment did the two of you end your hasty love making session, seeing as the land is closely crawling with Nilfgaard soldiers and who knows what else.

You got what you could get, and anyways, that won't be the first nor last time you two fuck in the woods.

The grass feels soft against your clothed bottom as you lace up your boot, your gaze set to the individual across from you as your eyes unbashfuly admire Geralt while he lays in the grass shirtless. His beautiful golden irises staring up into the tree tops as the wind sways the leaves every which way.

You pull at the leather strings, tying a confident knot with skilled hands while a small breeze blows your hair back, you're admittedly feeling quite delightful if you're being honest. Though when your crimson eyes glance up at the snowy haired man again, he's turned his head to you.

Your eyes meet at once, sending a blissful smirk upon your lips, "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" You teased, narrowing your eyes in a playful manner.

Geralt's lips curl into a half smile as he lets out a small hum in reply. Setting your arms upon your propped up knees, you freely show him an eye roll. Earning a proper chuckle from the man, "Y/N I was simply cherishing your stunning appearance."

Shaking your head you smile, "Yes, of course you were. And I am simply looking at a shirtless man with the most utter respect and clean of thoughts in my mind." You casually shrug, "Nothing else going on in here, I promise."

Geralt raises a greyish brow, moving to prop himself up upon his elbow, "That sounds honest." He hums, "But you are no virtuous maiden my love, and by that telling look on your face only moments ago. I can only imagine what things you may have been thinking of then."

You let out a snort before deciding to crawl over to him, where he lets you push him back into the grass, "Indeed I am not." You whisper close, leaning on an elbow as your other hand caresses his cheek, "But I am undoubtedly in love with a Witcher of all creatures to walk this earth, so if we're using our heads, what does that truly say of me then?"

His golden eyes keep to yours as he brings a hand to rest over your arm, "I would say it means perhaps I am a fool to fall for one of my enemies' creations, my dear Y/N..." He pauses for a moment, taking this brief second to focus on you and only you as he holds you with the most care, "you are most cunning and beautiful."

Leaning into his small touch you grin blissfully, a feeling of ease and calmness setting over you as Geralt studies your face, "You are no fool my White Wolf. That I am sure of without a doubt in my mind, I can't seem to be able to even jest about it." You chuckle, "Though you tempt me at times." The smile that he gives you is the most precious thing your eyes could ever be blessed with, its warm and genuine, filled with the deepest and most purest of love for you. His lady of night, the one monster he could never slay, nor would he ever dare.

Though your heart fills with joy for him, a sudden sadness seeps into your soul, obstructing your happiness. Your eyes fall downcast as you move to lay yourself next to Geralt in the grass, he follows you closely, a frown displaying itself upon his handsome features at your sudden spurt of melancholy.

"What troubles you Y/N?" Wonders Geralt, shifting his body so that he can rest an arm over your chest, pulling you in close as he studies your face.

Resting a hand on Geralt's muscular arm, you frown once again, "I was brief about my short time in Aretuza and the Elven keep, I know I told you about all those bastard soldiers I killed and when I helped the mages the best I could.....it's just. I haven't told you everything." Your voice feels so small in the large forest, now since you think about it. You haven't had the time to completely process what happened at Sodden's Hill, with all those soldiers, the other mages, and especially Yennefer.

So much death.

His brow furrows in thought, unsure of what you're going to reveal next, all he knows is that he doesn't plan on letting you go for awhile longer. Your Witcher hums in reply, giving you a moment to find your words. Taking a deep heavy sigh you turn your head to look out at the clouds. "We tried to protect the North from Nilfgaard, those fuckers had their own spout of powerful mages to test against our own. For the whole day we all fought together...every man, woman, child, and mage. Fucking farmers and tired refugees, they weren't warriors, Geralt. None of them were."

You take another shaky breath as Geralt presses his head against your cheek, "I did what I could to save them. But I'm just one person, I couldn't save them all....though I must admit, those people fought braver then most royal soldiers I've ever seen. They have good heart in them....well, I guess did. Not many survivors I think, just the ones who had enough sense to get the fuck out of there.....and of course myself, Tissaia, Triss, and Yenn..." A small lump forms in your throat as you remember what happened, causing you to choke on your own words for a moment.

You bite your lip hard, your hand squeezing tightly onto Geralt's muscular forearm as you collect yourself enough to speak, though your voice is raspy and broken, "Yennefer, right. She fought valiantly like a true warrior, she was like a phoenix, like a raging mighty dragon of power and flame...Geralt you should have seen her." A tear falls down the side of your face as you smile into the cloud covered sun, your voice above a whisper, "I'd never seen anything like it....it was.....beautiful."

A light kiss is placed gently over your tear streak while his hand moves to find yours, "What I would have given to see you slay those dogs alongside Yennefer, Y/N. I'm sure she is proud to call you a friend."

"She's dead." Those two words leave your lips so quietly that Geralt almost doesn't catch them, but he does.

The heavy weight of this news takes him off guard, he did not expect you to just lay such tragic tidings over him like that, he may have been greatly annoyed by Yennefer but he did see that stubborn mage as a friend. Though his heart hurts for how broken and defeated you feel from the terrors you'd underwent only yesterday, the great loss you've experienced, all of your traumas crashing down atop your soul in this moment. He wants to comfort you the best he can.

He listens to the steady beating of your heart, understanding how sad yet angry you're feeling, "I'm sorry Y/N. Truly I am."

A tired smile forms at the corners of your lips as you turn teary eyes over to your Witcher, your faces mere inches from one another, "She was my first real friend you know, and I think I was hers. I'm grateful to have spent the last of her hours on this earth by her side then.....glad she wasn't alone. I just wish..." Swallowing the lump in your throat, you focus on Geralt's shimmering irises once again, "I just wish the world wouldn't take everyone I give a shit about, so don't plan on doing anything stupid, okay? I can't lose anyone else or so help me god or whoever is listening out there, I will slaughter the bastards who dare take you away from me."

"I do not doubt it my love, and don't worry Y/N. I don't plan on leaving you anytime soon." He speaks honestly before pressing a soft kiss against your lips, "You have my word."

——

Geralt holds tightly to Roach's leather reigns as he keeps a firm hand over your lower abdomen, a small content smile gracing over your features while you sit comfortably in front of him on the large mare. Just as you always have.

Your hands rest over his as you keep a steady lookout over the trail ahead, silently overjoyed to be leaning against Geralt and all of his godly body holding you up. A blissfully drunken grin keeps to your face while your mind tumbles and reels with everything that he's just confided about from the last four weeks, like what you'd done earlier after a fine quick session of love making.

Apparently he's been busy.

Though for the second time today, another troubling thought randomly pops into your mind as things tend to do, and now you feel this time is as good as ever to actually address it. Squeezing his arm a bit you let out a half amused huff, showing that you're about to speak your mind on something idiotic Geralt has done, and he knows it.

Your Witcher figured you'd eventually spill your two cents, as you always seem to do.

"So." You begin, slow and filled with something Geralt's not quite sure of, he mentally cringes as you squeeze his arm again, "you just told him to fuck off and that you'd prefer to never see him ever again? Just like that? To our bard. Jaskier."

Geralt pauses for a moment as you wait for an answer, "Yes." Is all he whispers, low and filled with regret. He told you all about Jaskier and himself hours ago, hoping you wouldn't bring it back up, but of course you would. He's never that lucky, there's nothing you don't ever catch.

You raise a brow and shrug, "Can't say I blame you. That idiot has gotten our asses in a lot of shit over the years." He lets out a breath, glad you're not fuming at his heated rash actions on the mountainside after you dramatically parted ways. Suddenly you grip his arm tight, enough to actually feel uncomfortable, he sucks in a breath as you squeeze, "Although, I don't believe Jaskier completely deserved that." You seethe through clenched teeth before letting go of your iron grip. So you are angry after all, thinks Geralt, funny way of showing it.

"I know....I was just....I'm sorry Y/N." He replies, his voice much softer then he'd intended.

Your face falls as you feel the hurt in his words for what he's done, "I know Geralt." You sigh, "Enough with the sorry's and regrets okay....what's done is done and there's nothing we can do about it now. And anyways, as I like to say "we'll cross that bridge when we get there" so don't feel shitty about it now." He gives you a hidden smile as you chuckle to yourself, "You can feel shitty about it later."

Geralt lets out an amused snort, "Always one for wise words Y/N. What would I do without your kind intellect?"

"Dunno." You casually shrug, "Be a far less intriguing creature I suppose."

He tenderly kisses the top of your head, "I'd be a fool to argue against that logic."

"You're still a fool either way." You jest, cackling at your friendly jab at him, earning a gentle squeeze on your hip that sends butterflies into your stomach.

Gods the things he does to you.

For a couple more hours would you both ride Roach down the trail, past countless trees and a few streams until the sun would begin her descent over the land. Through this time you've been admittedly back to your old habits of amusing your Witcher to pass the time, mixed with seeing how long it would take to annoy him before he threatened to kick you off the mare.

It had been quite the eventful stretch of time before you caught the nasty pheromones of war seeping throughout the forest from some place close by, but not seen by your skilled eyes just yet. You held your tongue, not wanting to worry Geralt over something as insignificant as rotting corpses in the woods. But as Roach gets closer and closer, you begin to feel more strange, your scarlet irises suddenly catch a ripped tent behind a few trees.

Nilfgaard. Smell of death, more destroyed tents. Those bastards did this.

Your nose crinkles in disgust, the scent of freshly decaying corpses overloading your senses just about making your eyes water, you can't smell anything else but the stench of death.

"What I would give to be in a flower meadow right now." You seethe, blinking away the reactive tears in your eyes, Geralt looks down to you, unsure of what you mean considering his sense of smell is not nearly as prominent as yours. "I think Nilfgaard found a camp just over there, gods it reaks."

His grey brows furrow in thought, though he's left his words in the back of his throat as Roach walks closer to the carnage. Suddenly the three of you are face to face with an older man and his horse cart as he desperately and stupidly does his best to move the dead in piles for whatever it is that he's intended for them.

What a strange man.

Geralt shifts from behind you, tilting his head at the bearded man, "Ill winds follow grave robbers." States your Witcher as he hugs you closer protectively, or perhaps to keep you from doing anything destructive. The greyed man looks to the two of you, quietly acknowledging your existence before turning around to continue his doings.

"If I was a grave robber, I'd be taking their belongings, Butcher." He adds gruffly, squatting down to examine another slain body, "So best keep your beast with you." He adds, side eyeing you cautiously as he goes to move another of the deceased. Well, he knows Geralt's a Witcher and that you're not human. Maybe he's not that idiotic?

Geralt smirks, "If I was to let her satiate her appetite, you'd be amongst the corpses." The man falls silent, looking wearily between the two of you as your scarlet eyes trail over the nervous man.

He lets out a sigh, finally breaking under both your hard gazes, "I was goin' home to my family when I came upon these poor souls." He points towards the rotting bodies, "Cintran refugees. Dead at least a week. Now they're a feast for the crows."

"They're not for crows." You implore, shifting your ruby irises across the shadowy wood line while you listen to the buzzing of feasting flies. You had previously forgotten about what else may lurk in the shadows ready to feed, until now.

"Wolves?" He wonders.

"No."

Shaking his head, he ignores your odd wary vigilance, turning to glance at the two of you, "With more hands I could move quicker."

Yeah, fuck that.

"The only thing you should do quickly is flee." Warns Geralt, alert to the same understanding of what creatures may be hiding close by. The strange man grunts as he drags a body over the leaves, ignorantly discounting both your warnings.

With a click of his tongue, Geralt pulls at the mares reigns, "Come on, Roach, back to Kaer Morhen." You shake your head at the man as Roach begins to take a couple steps forward.

"Don't leave!" Pleads the bearded man, while dragging another, "Look at these people. Innocent people, killed for what?" He exclaims, sucking in labored breaths as he stands to look out over the mass of dead refugees, "So Nilfgaard can have more land? We owe it to 'em to do better."

"I'm not better." Mutters Geralt as he directs Roach away.

Always so dramatic huh.

You don't make it even three feet before your sensitive ears prick at the sound of crawling under the dirt. You know exactly what's now hunting the man, without a second thought do you break from Geralt's muscular arms to jump off of Roach.

Your feet move inhumanly fast as you race for the panicked man who's now scrambling away on the forest floor as two hungry ghouls claw for a taste. Realizing all too late that your silver dagger is lost to the ages you quickly adapt to instead aim for electrocuting the ugly fuckers.

Your palms spread wide as white hot lightening crackles and sparks in the misty night air, piercing the grotesque bodies of the living undead.

They screech in pain, giving Geralt just enough time to cut them down before they're able to recover, the man stops whimpering in fear as he turns his head up to you and Geralt. Who's now crouched a couple feet from the wide eyed man while he cleans off his sword, his eyes now two pools of glistening obsidian.

Sparks crackle in your palms as you huff in annoyance, "Go home." Your voice strong and steady.

The man snaps his attention over to you, "I can help." He insists urgently, causing you to roll your crimson eyes.

"One bite will kill you." Implores Geralt sternly.

The man turns to him, "Or you two." Then back to you again, his eyes fretful as you notice how he's just about shaking. He's terrified.

You let out a frustrated sigh, "I'm immune." You conclude gruffly, pointing to both himself and Geralt, "But not you two, so if you want to see your wife again...go home." The man stays still, breathing heavily as he sits on the soft ground, his mind swirling.

Geralt slowly stands, glaring at the man, "Go...home!" He snaps in that gravely voice of his, the petrified man stares at him before looking to your equally as stoic face. The blood red glow of your irises and the low crackling of lighting in your palm shifting his mind to a new understanding of his current situation.

He lets out a shaky breath, "All right..." Huffs the bearded man before scrambling to his feet, his boots carrying him over to his cart as he throws something into the back.

You ignore him and watch as Geralt walks slowly forward, his black eyes cautiously surveying over the land as you take a step, "Let me be the first to say, but I don't happen to feel very fond of what else follows." You whisper softly, your voice laced with concern as you sniff the foggy damp air, smelling nothing but decaying flesh as it wafts into your nostrils.

Geralt holds his weapon tightly, opening his mouth to answer, but before he's able to say anything a piercing screech breaks out from the woods. His sword flashes in the moonlight as he cuts down another hungry ghoul. Without warning another one breaks out of the earth to his right, dead in a flash as he slashes it across the throat.

The dirt bulges upward as another crawls from underneath the ground, heading directly for Geralt, the beast doesn't stand a chance as your Witcher stabs the soil directly in front of him. Killing the damn ghoul in an instant. Suddenly a black screaming flash races past you and tackles him to the ground.

"Oh fuck!" Unknowingly leaves you lips as you race to his aid, five of them have him pinned to the ground already as you pull his silver sword from the earth that he had left behind in the scuffle. These starving bastards don't see you coming as you begin slashing and hacking violently away at the ghouls. Trying your damn best to get them off of Geralt, they scream in agony as you end their half-lives.

More race out from the shadows to surround the two of you, Geralt pushes and punches more off of him as you slice through their grotesque inhuman bodies. So caught up in your own world that you don't have time to make sure if Geralt is all right when another one jumps for your arm, only to be greeted with a hard cut to its sunken in stomach.

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as you turn your head left and right, readying for anything else. When nothing appears to move you lower his sword to your side, turning around to give Geralt a smirk and no less a cocky comment.

Your face instantly falls when he whispers a harsh "fuck" while he leans down to look at something on his left thigh. He shakes his snowy mane, standing to his full height as he takes a limped step towards you. His obsidian eyes finally finding yours as he takes another troubled step forward, he looks like a mess.

Your eyes glance down at the bite mark revealing itself from an opened spot in his dark pants, you suck in a sharp breath, your face dead serious as you watch him with wide glossy eyes. His face looks rough and sweaty as he limps closer, suddenly falling to his knees as he stares at you, almost pleadingly, his dark eyes full of pain.

"Geralt?" You whisper, your nerves standing on end at the sight of him, no way he's just been bitten, it can't be.

Your lip quivers as you drop the forgotten sword upon the earth, taking hasty steps as he looks tiredly into your frightened face. You quickly kneel down to meet his eye level as he lets out a shaky breath, your hands gently touch his dirt smudged face as he wills his hands to grasp your arms.

His grip is unnaturally weak as you look deeply into his eyes, your voice shaky, "You're fine. You're fine, it's just a small wound nothing worth worrying over....it's just..it's nothing...you're fi...." His head falls downward in your palms as his hands slip from their place on your arms, "No, no, no, no....Geralt, love look at me! Look at me!" He answers back with a low groan, you swallow the building lump in your throat as he struggles to lift his tired gaze to yours.

The weakest of smiles displays over his handsome features as he lets out a tired sigh, "You're beautiful....you know that?" His voice is soft and broken as you hold up his face, biting your lip to keep from crying. He smiles sluggishly, "Thank you for loving me...I....Y/N...I...love y..."

Suddenly his eyes shut as he goes limp against you, you catch him and quickly move to gently position his body so that his head can rest in your lap, "Geralt no!" You exclaim desperately through tears that are starting to blur your vision, "Wake up! Wake the fuck up you dick...you can't leave me here!" You shake his shoulder but to no avail, "Fuck! No, no, no....I just got you back." Tears race down your cheeks as a sob racks through your entire body, you suck in a breath, trying to contain your pain.

This isn't fucking fair!

The old man hustles to your side, now made aware of the dire circumstances, "Ohhh, dear...Uh....we can take him to my house, if you will.....Just, keep him awake." Proposes the man, you hold Geralt closer, your wet cheeks glistening in the moonlight as your crimson eyes glow blood red.

"If you help me save him I won't end your pathetic life because of your stupidity!" You snap, making him flinch backwards as you glare at him, a low growl emitting from deep within your throat. If Geralt dies you might tear this man to shreds.

He quickly regains his bearings, now understanding that his life is at stake if Geralt dies under his care. The man walks around you, reaching down to pull Geralt from out of your lap. Once you're free he looks to you, "Miss he's quite heavy, this one. Could you lift his legs and help me carry him to...."

He's left with nothing but a genuinely bewildered look as you pick your sleeping Witcher up, holding him in both your arms while ignoring the mans shocked expression as you walk over to the large wooden cart. Setting Geralt in the back on a couple soft bags of goods.

Jumping in next to him, you kneel down by his side while the man quickly ties Roach to the back. It's going to be a long night. Until dawn broke out over the horizon, the great sun coating the land in daylight would you lay by his side as he slept through the multitude of hours.

Finally coming to in the late morning, looking more pale then usual and clearly disoriented, his golden irises trying so hard to focus on your blurry face. The man, who revealed himself to be Yurga, kept his horses at a fast trot while you continued to hold tightly onto your Witcher's arm, squeezing it every time he would begin to close his eyes. Just keep him awake.

"I don't know about you." Starts Yurga, "But I'm not liking the sound of those explosions in the distance....bloody Nilfgaard better keep themselves far away from here. We don't need trouble like that round these parts. Not after everything they've done."

Geralt stirs underneath your touch, snapping your attention back down to him, you watch as his eyelids open and close, his golden irises looking rather lost and hazy. He's so pale, too pale.

"Easy does it Butcher." Affirms Yurga as he turns his head to the side, "You got bit, best keep your sights trained on the pretty lady in front of you."

Geralt's brows furrow as he turns his own head to the side at the sound of the mans voice, confusion clear on his face since the poison from the ghouls has begun to mess with his mind. Seated closely on his right, his muscular arm on your left and his broad body on your right, his face is much more faded in color now. Too pale and sickly looking for your liking.

Reaching an arm out, you gently touch his face, turning his head back to you, "Geralt, keep those fine golden eyes on me, you gotta focus love....you're becoming delirious, but you're not dead. Just stay awake Geralt I'll be right here." He blinks hard, his face appearing dazed as he listens, suddenly trying to sit himself up.

You quickly react, leaning over him to grasp both his arms, stopping him from moving anymore, "Be still Geralt. You'll only make things worse if you try and move, your bite is spreading slowly but moving will only bring you more pain." His face grimaces in discomfort, you release your grip, sitting normally once again.

Oh Geralt, be strong for me.

Your face a mask of deep worry at his reaction, he may be a Witcher, but if his wounds are not treated properly he will die. Leaving you completely and utterly alone in this world whether you're ready for it or not. You rest a hand over his chest, listening to the slow thud of his heartbeat, he stares up at the sky, his gaze lost in the clouds.

You can tell he's probably watching some hallucination playing out before him, his gaze seems so far away while you sit here on this stupid hay covered cart pulled by the slowest two horses you've ever seen. He stirs again, his pale face trying to find yours as he focuses in on your worried appearance.

You can tell he's back, especially when his left arm quickly takes yours that was previously resting over his chest. He squeezes your hand, "My bag. Y/N I need my bag." His voice his gravelly and urgent, you quickly turn to look around, the pull of the cart jostling you while your eyes hunt for the bag.

"Yurga stop the fucking horses for a moment!" You yell, letting go of Geralt's hand as you grab the leather bag. Yurga directs his horses to stop, turning abruptly around to see what's the matter.

"The bottle....Y/N.....you know which one." Rasps Geralt as your eyes quickly find the small glass bottle containing some dark liquid, a type of healing potion for sure.

Handing the potion to your Witcher he hastily takes it, ripping off the cork with his teeth before making a face and chugging most of it. He groans, pouring the rest over his infected wound, more groans of pain sounding as you listen to the sizzle of flesh take to the healing mixture.

Gently patting his arm you hand him a small smile of reassurance, "You definitely need a healer, I'm afraid not even my blood can heal these wounds. Those fucking ghouls." You growl as Yurga urges his horses to begin trotting down the trail again.

His body rests against the piles of clothes and hay while his hand reaches out for yours, "I need to go to the Blue Mountains....Y/N...tell him I need to...." Mutters Geralt with tired eyes.

You squeeze his hand, "What? No, we don't have....you don't have enough time, Geralt you'll die."

"He'll heal me....I just need to go...."

"No!" You cry, there is absolutely no way you'd both make it to the Blue Mountains before his heart stops beating, "Stay awake you fucker, we'll heal you soon enough, just stay awake....we're almost to Yurga's farm. You'll get proper treatment there....just stay awake."

Until the sun would set and the darkness of night crept over the land would you constantly play as an ever continuous jostling annoyance to Geralt, doing all that you must to keep him awake and alive. Soon enough would Yurga have to stop and let his old horses rest for awhile. In the meantime, you'd help Geralt to lean against a tree as you went off in search of healing plants that could help to temporarily stop the spread.

With not much to give from your herb hunting, you walked forth from out of the bushes and into the grassy tree covered opening where you're greeted with the sight of a dark-red haired mage tending to your Witcher's infected bite wound. You immediately freeze, though she's too focused to even realize that you're watching her work. For a couple minutes would you observe her talents before blinking once and suddenly she's gone. Just like that, gone.

Well that was fucking bizarre.

Suddenly Geralt bolts upright, your brows furrow as he looks all around him, his wide eyes shifting right and left until they finally find your familiar form walking closer. He lets out an audible sigh of relief, before his grey brows furrow once again in thought.

"Where'd she go? The woman?" He wonders, confusion clear on his face as he watches you crouch down to meet his eye level.

You raise a brow, "Can't say I'd know, but I wish I'd have time to thank her for doing whatever magical mage shit she did to your infected bite mark." You reply with a chuckle, "Now you've gotten yourself a new scar added to the collection. Though still a very handsome work of art in my humble opinion."

His face softens at your relaxed tone, suddenly realizing that there's no need to worry anymore, "Thank you Y/N."

You laugh, "What for? I didn't do that much, I didn't even know how to properly heal you. And I definitely wasn't planning on turning you into a vampire just to have you around longer."

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as you study his face, "For keeping me awake this long, no matter how much I wanted to shove you off the wagon."

"I knew you wanted to do it, I could see it in your face. That is, when you weren't staring off into nothing like a lost boy who had too many special herbs." You jest, earning a pleasing chuckle from your sweaty Witcher. You smile, "Now. Come on my love, let's go." You reach a hand out for him to take, without a second thought he accepts, letting you pull him to his feet.

He shakes his head, steadying himself as he holds your arms, "Geralt you're acting like you've just downed half a dozen mugs of ale, lets rest on the cart yeah? Yurga will take us to his farm where we can get some proper food and drink, and if we're lucky....you some new pants."

His smile is soft as he looks down at you, Geralt touches your chin affectionately, "That sounds rather lovely."

Before he can do anything else you grasp the hand that's touching your chin, "I know exactly where your mind is going next and all I have to say is you're getting a bit more cleaned up before those pretty lips of yours are allowed to kiss me." He closes his eyes, resting his head against yours as he releases his hand from your chin. Now pulling you closer with his large strong hands.

"I could have died." He mutters, his gravely voice laced with a friendly playfulness.

"But you didn't."

"I could have."

"I know." You finally sigh, "You're still sweaty and smell like a dog who rolled in cow shit."

He lightly chuckles, "That's rude." Before pressing a feather light kiss onto your forehead where he then pulls away after a moment, "Guess we should help the old man pack the rest of his bags away."

Gripping his torso tighter you lean in close, "I'm enjoying myself too much." You admit, "Even though you smell rather atrocious at the moment."

"Oh please Y/N." Muses Geralt, his face inches from yours, "You still called be pretty when I was covered head to toe in Selkiemore guts, if I do recall."

"Did I? Must have slipped." You mutter lowly, brushing your lips past his.

"Y/N." Warns Geralt, his hot breath fanning over your smirking face as your ruby irises flicker from his plush lips to his golden eyes.

"On second thought. Perhaps you do look rather lovely at the moment, I think I'll just have to..." He's left guessing what you would have said next as your lips press firmly against his, both your arms pulling one another even closer now. Despite all he's just endured, Geralt tastes quite nice, his muscular body feeling even better holding you so close.

His lips move with yours in some pleasurable heated dance, soon enough does his calloused hands reach up to place themselves on either side of your face, you smile into the kiss at his urgency to hold you close. A couple more lingering blissful moments are shared flush against one another before your Witcher inevitably pulls away, first pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your lips once again before finally pulling away to look into your glistening eyes.

His hands still gently holding your cheeks, while your own ones grip around his forearms, "I hope there's more of that for when we find a tavern later." You muse, biting your lip as Geralt's eyes stare deeply into yours.

"Y/N. I'll let you take me any way you want." Mutters Geralt in that low and gravelly voice of his, "Just me and you."

"I think I'd like that very much." His lips find yours once again as your fingers trail down his back, wishing so hard that you were both laying on a soft warm bed in some hidden tavern in the mountains.

While you're both unbashfully exploring each others bodies like it was the first time, a sudden cough is heard from behind you causing the two of you to abruptly pull apart and look in that direction, "Uh...don't mean to intrude, but uh.....could we get moving if ya both don't mind?" Asks Yurga politely, trying not to find either of your amused gazes as he looks at a stick on the ground.

Right, you'd probably want to get out of the woods first.

The merchant Yurga had been true to his word, he had finally at long last made it to his home placed in a great clearing within the woods. A comfortable farmhouse on an open spot of land away from the fighting and battles nearby. His cart came to an abrupt halt as his wife quickly opened up the door and raced out to meet him, excitement flowing through her veins as a huge smile graced her face.

"We're all okay. The war is close, but we're okay. I need to tell you something." Exclaims Yurga's blonde curly haired wife.

"Me too." Affirms the older man with a slight thrill lacing his words.

His wife smiles, "I met a girl. An orphan, I found her in the woods nearby." Geralt halts all movement at the startling words, you doing the same as both of your furrowed gazes find one another.

No way this is who you think she's actually talking about. Hundreds of girls have been orphaned by the war.

"I met a Witcher." Speaks Yurga with a nod, "And a dhampir, if you'll believe it." Without warning Geralt jumps down from the cart and begins walking towards the woods much to your confusion, "They saved my life. Now fetch 'em some ale before they go to Kaer Mor-somthing." Urges Yurga, while you jump down from the cart, making hasty steps in Geralt's direction as Yurga and his wife finally look over to watch as the two of you make for the woods, "Hey, Butcher. Butcher! Where you goin'?" Shouts Yurga as Geralt continues onward, almost caught in a trance as he ignores the rambling merchant.

"Y/N?" Shouts the older man, causing you to stop and turn to him, "Where you two goin'?"

Your brows furrow, not completely sure of yourself, "I don't know." You whisper, keeping your body still as you look out at the thick greenery where Geralt had just wandered into for some unknown reason. You can't explain why, but you feel as though this is a path that only he must take.

The girl in the woods will be with him always.

He walks through the forest, his feet taking him somewhere or rather to someone who's been hiding from him for a long time. He can't even fully explain it, the call he feels to find what he's seeking. He suddenly stops, thinking his thoughts must be false and this urge to find who lingers in the wood is simply horseshit as per usual. A false sense of destiny. He turns around, walking a couple steps further back the way he came before an undeniable urge to look back consumes him.

The girl in the woods will be with you always.

And there she is, Princess Cirilla of Cintra, a shining beacon of hope in the dull wet gloom of the towering forest.

Destiny has prevailed.

Your boots shift from right to left as you stand idly in the morning air, your thoughts swimming around in your head of what could be taking Geralt so damn long, even if it's only realistically been about three minutes. Your new friends from behind you have instead left you to yourself and decided to tend to their horses, much to your relief.

Hugging yourself closer, you shiver, though you're not cold. A kind of magic of sorts seems to catch you in the misty air, a feeling you haven't felt since that night at Pavetta's banquet pulls around you like leaves on the wind.

How odd it feels, yet this seems right.

Two heartbeats reach your heightened ears, one so slow. But the other, beats normally like that of a child's.

You take a step back, steadying yourself as you wait for who you're expecting to inevitably appear. Shoes move across earth and leaves, signaling their close arrival. Your nerves die as two shadows emerge from the bushes and into the sunlight, the two of them are talking, unaware of your presence in the yard.

The child suddenly looks, her enchanted blue green irises falling onto you as she quickly comes to a halt, her eyes full of wonder and nervous apprehension. Geralt's brows furrow as he stops as well, his face turning to find the source of the girls fear.

His golden eyes spot you in an instant, he finds you staring curiously at the small blonde girl, the tiniest of smiles gracing your lips as you fiddle with your hands. You can't help but feel ridiculous for how you've been feeling about meeting this Child Surprise after so long, she is just a girl, a survivor of the unspeakable. Though you may not be the best with children in general, you feel no ill will against this one, all those previous feelings of loathing and judgement are gone to the wind.

Geralt's eyes are kind as he gently rests a comforting hand over her thin shoulder, she looks to him now then back to you as he speaks, "This is Y/N of Alkatraz, the dhampir princess of the High Northern Kingdom. My uh, lover?" He says cautiously, a bit unsure of what to truly call you before he thankfully finds his words, "Well...uh, my immortal companion, and someone who I love very deeply."

Oh, Geralt you adorable idiot.

Ciri's brows furrow in thought for a moment as she finds her courage, "My grandmother told me of that kingdom, she said it is ruled by vampires. Are you one?" She wonders, her voice a small nervous whisper.

The corners of your eyes crinkle in amusement as you smile, shaking your head, "No my dear princess, I am of that blood and character, but a dhampir is what I am as Geralt said. It's someone who is half vampire and half human." You assure the small girl, "No need to fear me, I promise you princess that I would never harm you in any way, you have my word."

A small grin tugs at the corners of her lips before her eyes fall downcast, "That's very kind, most people I've met so far out here have tried to kill me." She hands you the flash of a smile, "Glad to know not everyone is like them." She reveals freely to you with her small voice, so this is truly the Child Surprise.

The princess of Cintra.

"With us, you will not have to fear the damned talons of Nilfgaard Princess Cirilla...I will protect you with my life now."

Her brows furrow in thought at your truthful words, "You know of me? But how?"

You smile kindly, your scarlet irises flashing over to Geralt for a brief moment, "I have traveled with this handsome Witcher for almost fifty years, I know everything he knows. Even who you are." You take a couple steps forward, kneeling down to face her sad eyes, "And I am truly sorry for your loss, no child deserves the pain and fear you have endured since Cintra's fall. No less the horrors you have witnessed since your escape, these lands are undoubtedly deadly."

"Thank you, Y/N." She looks from you to Geralt, "I'm glad to have found you both then." You smile, standing up fully to lace your arm with Geralt's.

"Now, I think these kind people here may have breakfast waiting for us and some ale if I'm lucky, so my small friend Ciri, would you join us for a decently peaceful morning?" Ciri gifts your ears with a small giggle as Geralt hums in amusement. Proud that you're taking so well to the newest addition to your group of two.

You turn around just as the curly haired woman waves, "Would you all mind joining us for breakfast?" She calls out as a satisfied grin breaks out upon your face, "Of course we would be delighted!" You shout back, probably with too much excitement but you're trying to look as non threatening as possible. Also you are admittedly very hungry.

The three of you begin walking toward the farmhouse, Ciri follows the woman and her husband inside as Geralt stops near the entrance, you turn a raised brow to him, "What is it now? You planning on finding another magical orphan in the woods again?"

He looks down at the muddy ground before finding your lingering gaze once again, "No, just trying to figure out what to do next." Grumbles your Witcher in that lovable gravely voice of his.

You gently squeeze his hand as a smirk plays at your lips, "How bout we think of breakfast first? Then we can set our sights on paying our friends at Kaer Morhen a little visit. Bet they'd love that." You add sarcastically, wiggling your brows.

Your Witcher finally gives you a small smile, "Oh, I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see you again." He jests.

Lightly smacking his arm you take a step into the doorway, turning back to look at him, "What? Am I not nice and lovable? Can't believe you'd even say that."

"Only when you want to be." Mutters Geralt before gently kissing the side of your head while walking past you, "Now lets get some ale."

-

Tagged:  @seninjakitey​  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​​@haleypearce @diegos-butt​ (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x reader #geralt x you #princess cirilla #roach the horse

[autumn-foxfire]

do you have any crack/weird theory that you enjoy a lot? my favourite is the one where they say tartaglia is guizhong reincarnated. why? I just think it would be fun if someone that everyone thinks is the personification of grace and calm just happens to be reincarnated as the gremlin who lives for bloodshed. also, memory of dust just keeps following childe around so I guess it wants its original owner back. weirdly I think that being the most contradictory being to ever live and annoy zhongli just suits those two. Imagine childe just discovering who he used to be and keeping it a secret and then laughing when someone mentions that ning must be guizhong, it would be so entertaining for him to watch people (zhongli included) trying to figure it out.

Firstly, that's hilarious XD I think I've seen a couple of fanfiction on AO3 with a similar premise but I've never really been compelled to read them as I'm not really the biggest fan of "dead character reincarnates into alive character" though that's probably because I have a secret weakness for crossover fanfics and I'm tired of seeing this premise used for them T-T

Childe would absolutely use the knowledge of his past life to mess with the Adepti and Zhongli though. It would be hilarious if they felt like he had a familiar presence but they just can't put a finger on why or you could go the angsty route with them not recognizing that he's a reincarnation because of how he's been warped by the Abyss.

Though personally, if I were to consume an AU like this, it would have to be that while they share the same soul, Guizhong and Childe are still different people. Childe gets to see Guizhong's memories and learning more about Zhongli's past through them (and maybe even feeling guilty because he feels like he's invading their privacy) but he's not her, you know what I mean?

As for my own crack theories... I may have one admittedly...

It's not really a crack theory so to speak but I just wanted to explore Zhongli's character. I was looking through the wiki pages for him and the adepti and I noticed that he's never actually listed as an illuminated beast like Cloud Retainer, not are his origins actually explained. Even his dragon/qilin form is said to be something he can take and is not confirmed if that's actually his beast form.

Now, I can't handle the idea of Zhongli not being a dragon. I'm sorry but I don't care what canon will reveal to me in the future, this man is and always will be a dragon to me.

I was interested in the fact it was recently revealed that dragons used to rule Teyvat so dragons have been around for a looong time in this world. I was also interested in how it's acknowledge by everyone in fandom that Zhongli's beast form is a mixture of a dragon and a qilin, and thus... this is my crack theory.

Zhongli is like Ganyu in the fact he's not a full-blooded illuminated beast. However he's not half-qilin and half-human, like Ganyu is, but half-qilin and half-dragon, aka has the blood of the ancient dragons of Teyvet running through his veins. Now, this was inspired by the fact that he was know as the Lord of Geo even before he got his Gnosis, he's always been able to control the earth.

This is admittedly part of me loving the theme that Celestia gave Gnosis' to the creatures who used to rule/roam Teyvet before they took control as a show of power. I know it doesn't make the most sense because we know Zhongli got his Gnosis by sealing or killing gods that opposed him but I haven't really thought that far with this crack theory XD This love was further solidified by the knowledge that Celestia is a now canonically a colonizer.

This will definitely be disproven by canon eventually but I'll have fun with the idea for now XD

#genshin impact #childe #zhongli #thanks for the ask!!

[originalwinnercheesecake]

Chain of Iron theories: Who is the Killer

Its coming up on a week since last made a COI theory post. I said that I was going to try to post all my theories on COI BEFORE it comes out next month, so this posed a problem. So mow I am going to give my input on one of the biggest Mystery’s for COI, Who is the Killer? So in COI Belial will have a new minion who will target the shadowhunters, manages to kill 5 of them (same number Tatiana needed for the ritual) and is difficult for them to apprehend because they are somehow able to disappear. CC has left some hints that the killer is actually another Shadowhunter that Belial has somehow managed taken Possession of, despite protection rituals that should have been placed on this individual at birth ( My theory on that is that since this book is called “Chain of Iron” we will learn that Belial controls all his pawns with “chains of iron”. All hidden on their persons and glamored to look like ordinary accessories.) Our synapse for the book says that James Herondale has been having strange nightmares and fears he may actually be the killer. In COI he will start to tie himself up to sleep at night. We all know its not James right? In mysteries like this you always throw out your first guess/ the obvious guess. I have seen a lot of posts theorizing on who the true identity could be. I have seen some theories do not make much sense to me and some that were really good.

One theory that seems off to me is the idea that the killer is actually multiple killers, more specifically a collection of the survivors of Belial’s illness. If you support this theory I get your reasoning:Belial was able to briefly posses these people before, and the illness may have left biological changes in them. But here’s where I am confused, the killer is implied to be a massive threat wielding enhanced dark magic. At the end of COA there are 30something cured shadowhunters released from Silent City. CC says that the killers body count will be 5. If Belial has 30something new pawns that he can posses, gift his terrible powers to, and send out to prey on shadowhunters, I feel like there should be a lot more than 5 victims. I know Beial is not yet at full strength from battling Cortana, but he should at least be stronger than that. I have also heard theories that it is one of the Blackthorns. This also does not make much sense to me, given that for one thing none of them have training, Tatiana and Grace already have established rolls in Belial’s plans, and while I know Jesse is a part of Belial’s plan I believe his part will be save for COT after he has been resurrected. IF Belial were using Jesse’s empty body to walk the earth, then wouldn’t he also need to stop anyone from trying to resurrect Jesse?

 I have heard many theories on Elias Carstairs being the killer. Many of them just want to make Elias out to be CC’s newest and most horrible monster parent, and absolve Alastair of any responsibility or need to apologize for the cruelty he has shown to our mains. If this is your reasoning for believing Elias is the killer than let me stop you right there. CC has written multiple series and her skills have evolved beyond the need to rely on such easy black and white tricks. But I also saw some people posting about how Elias goes home so late and stopped writing to his family. Some are theorizing that the real Elias Carstairs was intercepted and killed on his way back home and that the being that arrives in COI is actually an eidolon demon pretending to be Elias. This theory is AMAZING. It makes a lot of scenes, would give Belial another spy in a key place, and could potentially explain why Cortana starts acting so weird. I love this theory I do. I am just putting it t the side right now because I need the real Elias alive for other Carstairs family theories, and again have been working with the theory that the killer is a real shadowhunter whom Belial is controlling with another “chain of iron”. My theories are below.

1.) Lucie Herondale is the Killer

 I am working with he theory that all Belial’s pawns have “chains of Iron” on them, which means all three blackthorns have them. In old art CC released of Grace she is seen wearing a pearl necklace that I was convinced had to be her’s. Tatiana’s (who probably consented to wearing hers) could be anything, maybe that stupid, creepy bird, she wears in her hat. Jesse... is mentioned several times to wear a locket.... that we know is connected to Belial.... and was weakened when he took it off to give to Lucie... who is wearing it now. Do you people see where I am going with this? It can also be noted that one of the parts of Lucie’s arc is that she is frequently overlooked in favor of James and how that is a mistake on peoples parts.  Everybody knows that James has powers, he has had 4-5 years of people helping him figure out what they are and how to control them. Nobody but ghosts know that Lucie has powers, she has no training, and is only starting to understand what they mean. James is vulnerable but so is Lucie. I do not want her to be the killer. Lucie is such a fun character, and I was so happy to finally have a female Herondale play a role that was close in size to her male relative’s. I truly feel that Lucie deserves better than to be just a tragic character in the story. I want her to be that plus a hero, but I cannot deny that she is a possibility.

2.) Charles Fairchild is the Killer

I have seen Charles name appear on multiple lists of theory’s on the killer’s identity. People never really give reasons as to why they believe he is the killer. They are just mad at him for choosing to put his career higher on his list of priorities than his relationship with Alastair, or him being the killer would hurt less because he is not written to be a fan favorite. If you are someone who wants the killer to be Charles, but are unsure how likely it is your in luck. Because I can give you a whole list of reasons it is likely

Charles is already acting strange. We know he made some kinda screw up in Paris and had to come home. Apparently Charlotte is sending Tessa and Will to Paris to Start the fix up and Charles will go back afterwards. Well based on what we have gotten on Charles making a mistake like that is unlike him. Casting Long Shadow’s reveals that Charles has been working as a politician since he was 13 and is normally known for being very dependable and reliable. That’s part of the reason he is considered such a shoe-in for Counselor once his mother retires.??? I have theories on Charles mental state (which I will address in a later theory post that will be centered around the Fairchild’s) and do consider the possibility that he was sett off by fear over the outbreak or grief over losing Alastair... But this sudden change could be from other things as well

As of COG2 Charles is engaged to Grace Blackthorn, who controls him like a puppet. Grace herself is the puppet of Tatiana Blackthorn, who is the puppet of Belial. So Charles is now part of a very dangerous carnival. Charles decade of study and knowledge of clave politics at the top could be very useful to Belial in taking them down. Also previous short stories say that Charles spends most of his time in Idris for work and when in London usually stays at home going through law books and records. So I could easily believe he does not completely  know his way around London and (like the killer is hinted to) would need to use a map to get around.

Now on to my biggest reason for theorizing Charles for the killer. Charles and Matthew’s relationship with each other. Charles and Matthew do not get along, like at all. They did once, but that was a real long time ago. A lot of the reasons they don’t get along is dumb sibling stuff: Charles calling Matthew an immature child, kicking him and his friends out of rooms in their house, and lording his increased age over Matthew. Matthew making more noise to annoy Charles, telling everyone Charles embarrassing middle name, and regularly sneaking into Charles room to steal his cologne instead of just buying his own. We are not hear to discuss any of that. All of that has me laughing because it is peak sibling rivalry. Rivalry aside Charles and Matthew model  the old dynasty trope for Ssons with Charles being “the Heir” and Matthew being “the Spare”. The Heir’s life is decided for them as soon as they are born, they will succeed their parent and continue their legacy. The Spare is just that, a back up plan kept around should the heir die, become disabled, never marry, or turn out to be infertile (happens way more than people like to think about). Charles struggles with the weight of his parents expectations. Matthew is more or less the Black sheep of his family, living his life day by day with no grand plan. Because of this he is cut off from them in a way, and goes through a lot of loneliness and isolation in his own house. Neither brother see’s the others hard time; the other has what they themselves want: Charles has attention, Matthew freedom, so they wrongly assume the other must be doing fine. This is a lot like Matthew and James relationship in Dust and Shadows. Matthew and James talked things over with each other and were good after. Matthew and Charles stay apart and ignore each other when they cannot. They will not just talk and be good after. So maybe if put on different sides they will fight out their issues with each other? On the subject of Matthew having to fight Charles, lets say hypothetically Charles is the killer and is possessed. We know from previous books that clave protocol is to place a kill order on possessed members. If that becomes the case do you think Matthew would be able to follow through with those orders? Be able to hunt, fight, and kill his older brother? No. No matter how rough their relationship I doubt Matthew would ever be able to do that. It would be to much for him, to similar to his “sin”. He would want to catch Charles, then try to find a way to free him from possession. Maybe if Mathew could successfully accomplish this then maybe he could forgive himself for his “sin”. If Matthew tries to save him and fails than at least this time other people would know and could potentially get him some help.  

3.) Filomena DI Angelo is the Killer.

Ahh our upcoming new arrival from  Italy. Why are you coming to London girl? Haven’t you heard about all the crazy things that happens there last fall? What possible role could you play in the story that couldn’t be filled by one of our many already existing characters from COG2? (Do you even know your way around?) How suspicious that Filomena should show up around the same time as this killer? Wouldn’t it be great for the story if the killer came from a different country? Wouldn’t that do wonders for showing how powerful a threat Belial is? His dark influence stretching across country lines, maybe even across oceans! We have already been told that TLH characters will need to travel to other countries. How the villain is less one person and more a force. Filomena could start that. She could provide reason to search countries besides London for Belial’s influence. Proof of it being so wide spread would definitely make Belial feel more like a force. Oh but wait, cheesecake wait. Filomena cannot be the killer! That would make her evil, and CC said she was a nice girl! Oh I am sure Filomena is a nice girl, but people tend to change when under demon control. But she is a girl and the killer is hinted to be a male shadow hunter! Are we sure the killer isn’t presented as male because Belial is presented as male? Is it impossible that while on the hunt as the killer Filomena DI Angelo dress in men’s cloths in order to more safely move through the streets? I feel like we have saw that trick once before in TID.

All we really know about Filomena is that she came to London, will interact with some of our established characters, and she will get a crush on someone we know, thus presenting herself as a possible love interest. Matthew was my first guess, hey he was every bodies first guess. CC shut that down, Filomena is not being brought in to fix the love triangle between James, Cordeila, and Matthew. Matthew is one of the only ones to not have at a least semi-confirmed endgame ship. So this means that Filomena will probably not be endgame with her crush. Why?   My next guess was her crush was on Anna. Ariadne is shown to be relentless in her attempts to “win Anna back” and Anna is not having it. Tweets time and time again depict her basically telling Ariadne “Its not going to happen. Give up and leave me alone”, but falling on deaf ears. So maybe Anna will try to get a new girlfriends and keep her around until she is ready to forgive/ go back to Ariadne. Well Anna is more a secondary character, a loving big sister figure to our mains. She gets less page time because of this. We already know she will spend time with Cordelia, Lucie, Ariadne, Eugenia, Thomas... not much page time left for Filomena. After further analyses I have theorized that Filomena must have a crush on Thomas.

A quick google search on the name Filomena shows that it is an Italian name that means “loving friend” “strong friend” and “lover of music” all these sound kinda like Thomas. (Filomena is also the name of a character in the 14th century Italian collection  of short stories called the Decameron, who liked to make stories up about plagues... or so some digging around google told me ). This could fit quite nicely into Thomas’s story. First of all to everybody who has been calling Thomas “gay” please wait a moment to be sure. Thomas does not yet publicly or self identify as gay. He clearly has an attraction to one man, but CC says that he has not yet realized his sexuality and will spend TLH figuring out. He might be gay, but he could just as easily turn out to be bi or pan. For the sake of this theory lets assume Thomas is Bi. Thomstair is definitely endgame. We know Alastair is gay, and CC usually likes to pair gay characters up with bi characters in queer ships, see Malec and Heline. Should Thomas be bi, should he start to become close and develop feelings for Filomena, it will have to go wrong. More wrong than he considers his feelings for Alastair at the end of COG2 (Filomena do not hurt this boy, he has been through enough). We got a tweet that suggests Thomas is interested in the killer, and a hint that he is planing something big. We got a kinda frightening picture that suggests the Killer may be very interested in Thomas.

If Lucie is the killer she will somehow be freed from Belial’s control,. I can 100% guarantee it, Charles I feel will have a 50/50 chance, Filomena will die from it. It would be a herculean task to free her, and she is not important enough to the mains for them to actively try and do anything more than give her a merciful death. Should she and Thomas become close than it will break his heart. But if Alastair is there for him afterwards, able to emphasizes and offer him comfort that will go along way to redeeming Alastair to Thomas. The whole experience could be love is hard, both men and women have the ability to hurt you. but the right person will make it up to you and it is good to forgive them when they do. I personally think that would be a pretty cool direction for Thomas’s arc to take.

#Chain of Iron #Chain of Iron theories #COI #James Herondale #Elias Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Charles Fairchild #filomena di angelo #Cordelia carstairs #Cortana #Tatiana blackthorn #Grace blackthorn #Jesse blackthorn #Juice #Matthew fairchild #Thomas lightwood #the merry theives #Anna lightwood #Ariadne Bridgestock #thomstair #Belial #The last hours #TLH #the shadowhunter chronicles #TSC #chain of gold #COG2 #The Killer #CC #Cast long shadows

[side-shawty]

Sunshine

Fandom: Marvel (MCU/616)

Type: one shot

Prompt/Summary: “Would you like to write a fanfic about stony and their black daughter after they adopted her. Maybe (only if you want to) the reader could be little child? “

Pairing(s): Tony Stark x Steve Rogers, Stony x daughter!reader

Requested? YES by Anon

As usual I got carried away and it took me way longer than I expected to edit it but I hope you enjoy :)

-Duckie

“Y/N! Are you almost done packing?” Your dad called from down the hall, you wanted to say yes but you had gotten distracted with an old photo album that had been pushed to the back of your closet.

“Almost!” You yelled back, sitting on the floor and flipping through pages instead of continuing to pack your life into bags for your departure to university tomorrow.

Instead of an answer back the sounds of heavy footsteps instead flowed down the hallway before stopping at your open door. You looked up at your fathers with a sheepish smile while the took in the disaster that your bedroom had become.

“What the hell kid? It looks like a clothes bomb blew up in here,” your dad said before approaching you, your pops was close behind.

“I know and I was packing I just got —“

“Distracted,” your pops finished and sat across from you, pulling your dad down with him and onto his lap. You laughed lightly at the annoyed look on his face.

“Well, this better be a good distraction,” Tony said and motioned for you to show him what you were looking at.

“It is actually. Just what the hell is going on with my hair in this photo?” You asked turning the photo album around and pointing at a specific picture.

Your dad couldn’t hold back a laugh at it at the same time your pops shouted out, “Language!”

“What? Dad said it like 2 seconds ago,” you argued.

“Well that’s because your Dad has terrible habits that I hoped he wouldn’t pass onto out child,” Steve sighed dramatically and used the hand not wrapped around his husband to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I was wrong.”

“Oh like you don’t swear,” your dad said and took the photo album from you.

“I remember this day,” Tony began wistfully, “It was a few months after we adopted you and your first day of daycare. The fossil and I tried to do something with your hair and well…”

———

“Tony, did you pack Y/N’s bag already?” Steve asked as his husband walked into the kitchen their sleepy three-year-old in his arms.

“Yeah, last night. I left it on the couch,” he replied as he slipped her into her highchair and poured some apple juice into a sippy cup before handing it to her.

A happy, “Tank you dada,” followed and Tony gave her a kiss on the head.

“You’re welcome peanut,” he said before moving to help his husband with breakfast but Steve gave him a look that told him to just sit and wait before he lit something on fire. Tony rolled his eyes.

At the sound of a clatter, both men looked towards their daughter who was already giggling and far more awake than before. She had thrown her cup to the ground and was thoroughly amused at the sound.

Tony was quick to pick it up and place it back in front of her. But much like a cat, she was excited to push it back off as Tony became distracted at slicing grapes in half for her snack.

Y/N laughed even louder at the sound this time and it was like music to her father’s ears.

Tony walked back to his daughter and lifted the sippy cup from the ground and when he looked back at her she was making grabby hands for it, giving him a megawatt smile.

“‘ippy cup pwease,” she spoke and Tony all but melted.

“This sippy cup?” Tony asked, staying at eye-level and holding it in front of his face.

“Yeah!” She said happily, but when Tony leaned in close she grabbed his cheeks instead.

“Are you gonna throw it down?” He asked.

“Yeah!” She said and Tony heard Steve laugh behind him.

“Why?” Tony asked, genuinely curious.

“For big boom,” Y/N said, beaming while throwing her arms out in an explosive motion.

Tony was sure he had the cutest kid to ever grace the earth, even if the dark curls were still a mess and she was in rumpled princess pajamas. Tony grinned as she dropped her arms in favor of grabby hands again.

“Okay but only one more. Pop’s old ears can’t handle loud noises,” he said handing it back to her as Steve scoffed. As soon as it was back in her hands it hit the floor again and Y/N let out another trill laugh. 

When Tony stood up straight after picking the cup up for the third time he felt arms wrap around his waist, he was quick to lean into his husband’s chest. Steve placed a plate in front of their daughter and suddenly she forgot all about the sippy cup.

“Tank you, papa,” Y/N said and picked up her little to scoop up a bit of scrambled egg.

“You’re welcome sunshine,” Steve smiled at her, and instead of eating their own breakfast, the two men kept their eyes on their daughter. Even doing the most mundane things she was all they ever wanted to look at and they were both sure that would never change.

After the three of them finished their breakfast Tony cleaned Y/N up and put her in a cute first-day outfit consisting of a skirt, glittery leggings, colorful sneakers, and an iron man t-shirt. 

When Steve entered his daughter’s room, dressed for the day, he only rolled at what Tony had decided to put her in but said nothing about it. After all her little bag had Captain America’s shield on it.

What really had Steve tilting his head however was whatever was happening with his daughter’s hair. Tony had successfully combed it out but now it looked like a cloud atop her head instead of her regular curls.

“Steve, thank god, help. I don’t know what I’m doing,” Tony said as he spotted him in the doorway, Y/N looked his was too.

“Hi Papa,” she said smiling at him. Steve’s heart leaped at the sight of his happy little girl.

“Hello little sunshine,” he grinned making his way over to the pair and picking her up to place a kiss on her cheek before sitting on her bed with her placed in his lap.

“Tony, what happened?” He asked running his fingers through her unbelievably soft hair.

“Well I thought since I’ve never done hair before the first step would be combing it out but then it doubled in size and I was lost,” he sighed playing with the comb in his hands.

Steve sighed, “Well I’ve never done hair either. Should we call someone? Nat?” He asked.

“On a mission.”

“Pepper?”

“Vacation.”

Suddenly Steve’s eyes lit up.

“Rhodey?” There was hope in his voice until Tony said.

“UN conference until 3,” and Steve’s shoulder slumped.

“We could try to tie it up,” Tony offered and he was quick to nod.

“Okay babycakes, papa is gonna put your hair in a ponytail,” Steve said and was met with a shake of the head.

“No ponytail, twisties,” Y/N told him moving her hands in a spiraling motion and making a whooshing noise with her mouth.

Steve looked to Tony for help on what she meant but the younger man only shrugged, equally confused.

“What’s twisties?” Tony asked it must have been something her foster parents did for her.

In response, the three-year-old took two pieces of hair on either side of her head and tried her best to move her hands in circular motions again whilst making the whooshing sound again.

“Okay~,” Steve said and looked at Tony again, “Your dada is gonna do it for you.”

“Me?!” Tony asked, incredulous.

“Yes you, you’ve got careful scientist fingers,” Steve said and Tony rolled his eyes.

“Whatever but if it comes out wrong it’s your fault,” he replied, arms stretched out to take hold of his daughter, she giggled at the faces he made at her before sitting her in front of him on the floor.

“Can you bring me her hair stuff? I need a water bottle, a brush, a comb, and some gel or cream or something,” Tony spoke and Steve nodded quick to get the items and return.

“Alright here goes,” Tony said before getting to work.

In the end, Y/N was left with six parts in her hair that were pretty even and each secured by a colorful rubber band and placed in two-strand twists before being secured by two more rubber bands at the ends.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the fact that Tony didn’t wet your hair enough and your twists stood up like coolio braids . . . well, maybe not quite as stiff.

“How’s that?” Tony asked, moving back slightly to admire his work. Steve had been silent the entire time and he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

“Well t’s certainly a style,” Steve said and Tony glared at him before holding a mirror in front of his daughter.

“What do you think Y/N/N?” He asked and she laughed.

“Pointy twisties,” she smiled, at least she didn’t hate it.

Tony sighed, “I can live with that,” he kissed her cheek as Steve spoke up again.

“Good because we’ve gotta get going if we don’t want her to be late of her first day,” Steve said and they quickly got their things before heading to the tower’s elevator. Before Y/N pushed the button — it was her favorite thing to do — Tony called her name.

“Smile sweetheart,” he said and Y/N gave him her best toothy grin, so wide, her eyes closed and Tony chuckled, that’d be his new lock screen, he thought before taking several more.

“Picture with papa and dada?” she asked after Tony’s pseudo photoshoot.

“Of course sunshine,” Steve said before picking her up and Tony held his phone up for several selfies.

No that’d be his new lock screen.

When Steve set her on the floor again she was quick to press the button and before they knew it they were on their way to the daycare center.

When they arrived Y/N’s hands were secure in both of her fathers and the closer the got to the door the tighter their grips became on her.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mr. Stark-Rogers,” said Mrs. Flores, she was a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, and seeing her again Tony realized why they had chosen this daycare.

“Good morning, Mrs. Flores,” Steve spoke, giving her a Captain America smile, “We’d like you to meet our daughter Y/N,” He said looking down at the now uneasy three-year-old.

Mrs. Flores gave a playful gasp before kneeling in front of her, the woman’s flowing skirt billowed around her and made it look like she was sitting on a flower bed.

“Well hello there dumpling,” She began and Y/N attempted to hide behind Tony’s legs, “I’m Mrs. Flores but a lot of people call me Mrs. Flower,” she told her and removed a fake flower from its place behind her ear and held it out, “Do you like flowers Y/N?” 

Y/N nodded, still shy but Tony and Steve kneeled down as well and Steve removed his hand from hers to rub soothing circles on her back.

“You can have this one,” Mrs. Flores said and Y/N hesitated but took it in the end, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Alright Y/N/N, your dad and I are gonna get ready to go now okay?” Steve spoke softly and Y/N looked at him before tilting her head to the side, her twisties falling slightly at the movement.

“Go?” She asked fear at the edges of her voice.

“Yeah,” Tony began, “We’ve gotta go to work now,” he said through his tone was not convincing.

Tears began to well in the girls’ big Y/E/C eyes and her voice began to break as she spoke.

“I go work with you,” she said and wrapped her arms around Tony’s neck.

“No sweetheart, you have to stay here with the other kids,” Tony spoke but wrapped his arms around her as all three adults stood up.

“You get to stay with Mrs. Flores all day and then we’ll come to get you,” Steve said, patting his daughter’s back.

“No,” Y/N said, rapidly shaking her head as she gripped her dad tighter.

“Y/N we’ll have so much fun here. We can color and play games, and you’ll make lots of new friends,” Mrs. Flores tried.

“Sweetheart we have to go, your pops, and I will be back before you know it,” Tony told her moving the young girl to his hip as she began to cry.

“No, I go with you,” she said through her tears.

“But if you’re here you get to make friends,” Tony spoke as Steve tried his best to wipe away the tears flowing down her cheeks.

“No friends,” she said and cried harder.

“May I?” Mrs. Flores asked holding her hands out for the little girl. Tony nodded and handed her to her but this only turned her sobs into wails.

“Y/N, we’re going to have so much fun today, I promise and your daddies even packed your favorite snacks for you,” even the woman’s soothing tone did little to ease the girls’ distress.

“And when we get back we’ll get ice cream,” Tony said but this also didn’t do much.

“The first day is always the hardest,” Mrs. Flores told the two men, “I’ll calm her down but I’m afraid if you stay any longer it’ll make it harder,” she said bouncing the crying toddler on her hip as she began to quiet down slightly.

“Alright,” Tony said but it was obvious that he wasn’t convinced in the slightest. They both kissed her cheek and told her how much they loved her before taking their leave. They hesitated slightly as they turned back and watched through the window as you used grabby hands over the teacher’s shoulder to try and get them to come back.

Tony and Steve looked at each other with respectively glassy eyes and a silent question if this was the right thing to do. Steve nodded and wrapped his arm around his husband’s shoulders before they both turned and left the building.

When they did pick you up at around three it was a race to see who could get to your classroom first. They ignored stares from other parents and teachers. When they looked through the window they were happy to see you coloring happily with a little boy. Mrs. Flores saw them before you did and approached them.

“How was she?” Steve asked quickly.

“It was rocky for the first hour or so but as more kids showed up she became more interested in who they were and what games they were playing. Peter over there spent nearly the whole day with her,” she smiled and the two men found themselves smiling too.

“Do you think tomorrow will be better?” Tony asked.

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Flores told them encouragingly.

“Y/N,” she called, “Look who’s here,” their daughter was quick to look over and give them a tooth-achingly sweet smile. 

“That’s my daddies,” she told Peter and the boy waved at them, “Bye Petey,” Y/N told him and sprinted into the awaiting heroes’ arms.

They both gave her a kiss on the cheek then Tony grabbed her bag and coat as Steve picked her up.

“Bye Mrs. Flowers,” Y/N said waving. 

On the way out the trio passed a woman with long brown hair and glasses as Y/N began to babble on about her first day at daycare. When she was in her car seat and they were pulling off she interrupted her own monologue with a question.

“Ice cream now?” She spoke.

“Of course sunshine,” Tony said and began to drive to the nearest shop.

——

“Huh, so that’s why we get ice cream after my first day,” you said as your fathers ended their story.

“Yeah and you’re the first day of college we won’t get to,” Steve said a bit sad as he held his husband tighter to his chest.

“Aw don’t worry pops we can eat ice cream over FaceTime,” you said giving them a smile as you dad handed you back the photo album and you placed it in your lap.

“Wouldn’t be the same. Maybe we’ll just fly out there for the day and meet you after classes,” your dad said a mischievous smile on his face.

“I’d say please don’t but it seems like you already have that plan in motion. Aren’t you like the SHIELD director these days?” You asked tilting your head to the side and your curls fell slightly into your face with the movement.

“Only when I feel like it,” he joked and your pops rolled his eyes.

“That’s a yes,” he said and gave his husband a kiss on the cheek.

“Ew, get a room,” you said and Tony stuck his tongue out at you, which prompted you to do it back.

“Speaking of rooms,” Steve began, “There will be no funny business in college. You’re there for art and science, not boys … or girls. Are you into girls? We’ve never had that talk,” he said rubbing at his temples.

“Ignore him, just please use protection. Some of us are too young to be grandparents,” he said throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh jeez, I’m 18 and you already have me the talk. I don’t need a 2.0 college version. The first one traumatized me enough,” you shuddered at the memory.

“We know, we just want you to be safe and you’ve never been this far from us for this long. You’re still our little girl sunshine,” your dad grinned holding your hand in his own.

“And we love you,” pop finished.

“I love you guys too.”

#stony daughter #stony x daughter!reader #stony x black!daughter!reader #superhusbands imagine #stony imagine #steve rogers x daughter!reader #tony stark daughter #steve rogers daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #marvel imagine #stony x reader #marvel one shot

[thepandapopo]

Weak - Sylvix Week Day 2: PDA

Sylvain and Felix embark on the road to becoming a couple in typical Sylvain and Felix fashion – completely backwards and embarrassingly obvious.

OR

Felix is weak for Sylvain.

OR

Four times Sylvain initiates PDA and the one time that Felix does instead.

i.

Felix really should have known better.

He should have known that this joke, this mockery of his pent-up feelings, would become more than a one-off thing. But he is weak; so very weak to Sylvain and even if he could, Felix doesn’t think that he would have put a stop to it anyways because despite all his hissing and cursing, he really is touched starved for the fool.

Yet here they are again, about to ride off into yet another battle – because that’s what war is; just a never ending string of blood and death and loss – and Sylvain is leaning down from atop his warhorse, looking every bit the intimidating Dark Knight that he is with his black armor shining boldly in the afternoon sun, and threading one large hand between the inky strands of Felix’s hair to bring his face closer to his prize.

Felix has lost count how many kisses Sylvain has bestowed upon him in the calm before the storm. It’s a testament to just how many battles they have gone through together, how many wordless promises they have made to each other to come back alive and whole after the blood has finished soaking into the earth beneath their feet.

However, no matter how many times Sylvain brings his warm, soft lips to Felix’s own rough, chapped ones, Felix still feels the strength drain from his legs and all his senses hone in on the heat of lips on lips, sliding easily over each other with practiced movements slicked with spit.

“Come back to me alive, yeah?” The words are murmured so close to him that Felix can feel the brush of Sylvain’s lips even as the hot air escapes between them, flushing both of their faces with soft crimson.

Felix scoffs – a typical Felix response – and that’s more than enough of a promise for Sylvain who straightens back on his horse and gives his lance a practice twirl with a grace that belied his fierce strength.

“I always do. You’re the one who needs to be careful, what with your dismal training regimen.”

And it’s true. Felix always keeps his promise and comes back to Sylvain. After all, he thinks to himself, he still has yet to confess his feelings for his childhood friend and Felix knows, just as he knows that the sky is blue and that Sylvain’s hair is more beautiful than any sunset will ever be, that he will always come home; home to Sylvain.

How else will he get another kiss?

ii.

Felix is weak for Sylvain.

But then again, that was something that Felix had already established early on in his life – even before they had made what Ingrid liked to call their ‘morbid childhood death pact’.

Not many could say that they could annoy the Fraldarius heir to the point of sputtering without making an immediate acquaintance with the sharp end of a blade. Even fewer could get away with initiating physical contact with Felix outside of training, much less casually throwing an entire arm around his shoulders and then proceeding to whine like a child about anything and everything.

But the most telling sign of Felix’s softness towards Sylvain is the fact that the Gautier heir is the only person who is allowed to touch his hair.

“Tilt your head down a little.” A calloused broad hand cradles the back of his head gently and pushes Felix’s forehead to meet the warm muscle of Sylvain’s shoulder. They must make an intimate picture, Felix thinks to himself as he inhales the warm citrusy scent of bergamot and honey that he has come to associate with his childhood friend. They are in Felix’s room behind closed doors and it is still early morning. Were anyone to enter his room, the sight of Sylvain kneeled at the edge of the bed between Felix’s legs with his hands buried in raven locks and Felix with his face in Sylvain’s shoulders would have invited more than a few salacious rumors to the monastery grounds.

“Ow. Be careful.” Felix hisses at the not-so-gentle snag of fingers against a tangle.

“Sorry, Fe.” The puff of hot air grazes the back of his neck and sends shivers down his spine.

In the back of his mind, Felix recognizes that it’s probably a colossally stupid idea to let Sylvain tie his hair up every morning while he is recovering from a broken arm. The fact that the Fraldarius heir allows himself to indulge in their pre-battle kisses is already torture enough; but letting Sylvain run his long fingers through his raven strands to pull and tame them into his customary ponytail?

It isn’t an exaggeration to say that Felix’s nights have since gotten more restless.

“Your hair is longer now.”

It’s a plain statement. Neutral grounds in terms of speech, but the sinful way Sylvain tugs his hair, landing a little on the side of deliciously hard, makes the words drip with suggestion and invitation.

Felix must be going crazy if he thinks he can hear anything other than plain, factual observation in Sylvain’s tone. But if it is the madness that conjures images of the Gautier heir yanking his hair to expose the expanse of his neck and suck his claim… then he decides that insanity must not be half bad.

It is both an eternity and not long enough when Sylvain finally announces that he is done with a breathy whisper. Reluctantly, Felix pulls back and reaches his good arm up to pat the neatly tied strands under the pretense of checking Sylvain’s work. If Felix secretly revels in brushing his fingers along the lingering warmth clinging to his hair, then that is his own business.

A familiar strip of leather lays on the desk to the side.

“You didn’t use my normal hair tie.”

Sylvain smiles as him just a little too wide. Wide enough that Felix is suspicious.

“Yeah. I figured it was starting to get really old so I got you a new one.” Sylvain says very matter-of-fact. The sincerity in his voice sends Felix’s heart thumping wildly in his chest and he feels the heat in his cheeks even as he scowls.

“I am perfectly capable of buying my own hair ties.”

As usual, Sylvain is an expert in understanding Felix-speech and simply laughs. You’re welcome rolls off his tongue with ease born from years of enduring harsh words and learning to read the subtext behind barbs.

Even as they walk through the monastery hallways together down to the dining hall, Sylvain rolls with the punches and their conversation doesn’t so much as falter for even a moment, instead slipping into a familiar and achingly comfortable banter that hides years of unspoken emotions.

No one mentions anything about how Sylvain seems to stick more closely to Felix now that his arm is in a sling.

No one mentions the bright Gautier-red leather strip that stands out so glaringly obvious against the dark canvas of Felix’s hair.

No one mentions anything when Felix hands Sylvain that same hair tie the next morning to complete their new morning ritual, the unspoken subtext wrapping soothingly around them as Felix once again bows his head in the only surrender he will ever acquiesce.

I’m yours.

iii.

“Felix!”

Pain. Screaming. Panic. Sylvain.

Where is Sylvain?

“Fe! Fe, stay with me. Don’t you dare die, you stubborn asshole!”

The part of his mind that is still rational and conscious tries to cajole the rest of his body into letting out an indelicate snort, but all that comes out is a wet cough that sends pain and blood spilling out his mouth.

“Mercie? Lin? Marianne? Healer, please, anyone! I need a healer!”

Felix’s arms feel more like dead weight than limbs at this point given the numbness of his extremities, but that doesn’t stop an agonizing lance of pain from shooting through him as he feels his body lifting up and being cradled against a cold metal chest plate.

A low moan manages to slip its way unbidden past his chapped lips.

“I know, Fe.” Warm honeyed words wash over him. Even in his half unconscious and delirious state, Felix can hear the unbridled fear that lurks beneath the forced calm. “You’ll be okay. I’m gonna get you to Mercie and she’ll fix you right up, okay? Stay with me.”

Sylvain’s voice cracks at the end along with Felix’s heart.

He doesn’t like it when Sylvain is in pain.

With herculean effort, Felix manages to pry his eyelids open just enough to look at the underside of Sylvain’s clenched jaw.

Huh. When did he get on a horse?

“Are you… okay?” The words are harder to wheeze out than Felix is comfortable with, but he forces his lungs to work with him because above the pain and fear for his own life looms the overwhelming need to make sure that Sylvain is unhurt.

Otherwise the axe he took to the side would have been for nothing.

Sylvain lets out a choked laugh, “yeah. Yeah, of course I’m alright. Fuck Felix, you shouldn’t have pushed me out of the way like that.”

You should have trained more, is what Felix wants to reply, however his mind and body are no longer working in tandem and somewhere along the line his heart decides to step in instead.

“Don’t…cry, Syl…”

In all their years together, Felix can count on one hand the number of times he has seen Sylvain cry; most of them in their childhood before Glenn dies. The last time Sylvain had allowed his emotions to bubble up to the surface was the day he shoved his lance into Miklan’s chest in an attempt to give him a merciful ending rather than living on as a demonic beast.

But none of those times can compare to the wrecked look and unending rush of tears that are carving their way through the grime and gore on Sylvain’s cheeks.

Felix doesn’t hear the reply that Sylvain gives, but knows that he must have said something given the comforting rumbling he feels against his cheek.

The world is dark now. There is nothing but a large black pool of nothingness and Felix can feel himself slowly sinking down, down into the depths.

He does not know how much time passes, but through the empty void Felix can hear fragments of words from someone he knows is important, but for the world cannot seem to remember.

Stay with me, sweetheart.

Don’t leave me, please. I can’t do this without you.

I love you.

Come back to me, Fe. My heart.

Felix clings to those words and the warmth that they bring. It takes an eternity, and slowly but surely, he manages to pull himself from the darkness and into the light.

When he wakes, he wakes with a full body ache and in the familiar arms of his crush, who apparently is still dripping salty tears on him and refusing to let him go despite Mercedes insisting that he’s fine. Of course that idiot is too busy sniffling to notice that he’s no longer unconscious.

“I told you to stop crying, didn’t I?” Felix croaks, bringing both Mercedes’ and Sylvain’s attention to him.

A new batch of tears well up in his favourite honey brown eyes and piercing relief crumples Sylvain’s expression like a house of cards in the wind.

“Fuck, Felix. Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Sylvain’s voice wobbles as he clutches at Felix just a little tighter, pressing his head to his chest as if trying to hide him away from the world.

The rapid staccato thumping against his cheek stays Felix’s hand and he lets himself (in what is starting to become a concerningly frequent habit) indulge in the physical display of affection, not caring that the rest of the world inside the infirmary can see them.

Right now, there is only Felix, Sylvain, and their beating hearts. And if that’s what Sylvain needs to chase away his fears, then Felix will happily concede because there is nothing that he wouldn’t do to protect Sylvain from the world and his own demons.

iv.

For a person born in the second coldest region of Faerghus, Felix does not do well when the temperature plummets.

Although his regular outfit consists of at least three separate layers - one of which is fur lined, for crying out loud – the cold somehow still manages to seep its way into his bones, rattling his entire core with shivers.

“Shitty night to not have a tent, huh?” Sylvain laughs humorlessly from where he is huddled up beside him, his long legs folded up as close as possible to his chest to conserve heat; his Gautier crest emblazoned cloak is thrown of his shoulders as are two more thin blankets that also cover Felix as well. Their sides are pressed together like two halves of a whole and on a regular day, Felix would have spontaneously ignited at their close proximity, but right now the heat that is radiating off of Sylvain is the only thing that keeps his body from succumbing to the cold. At their backs, Sylvain’s trusty warhorse acts as a third source of heat and also as a sturdy wall to lean against.

“Fucking bandits just had to torch our shit.” If they weren’t already lying six feet under buried in a shoddy, half assed grave, Felix would have personally saw to it that every single one of them died a horrible and painful death by his blade.

All around them their friends and comrades sat in huddled pairs, much like him and Sylvain. The sad, dismal fire they had managed to start did little to stave off the chill, but when literally everything around you is wet with sleet, it is already a small miracle that there is any fire at all.

“At least we’re together and alive though, right?” Sylvain smiles at him and it’s the small genuine one that Felix recognizes is specially for him; the one where burnt sienna glows molten and the corners of his eye crinkle with rarely used crow’s feet. “It was a pretty nasty ambush and we’re honestly pretty lucky that we had a small enough unit to quickly mobilize and pivot.”

Felix scoffs but it comes out as more of a pathetic chattering of teeth.

He doesn’t know when it happens, but he and Sylvain have become closer over the last few weeks. Close enough that Sylvain’s eyes no longer hold a shadow of doubt whenever he leans in for his pre-battle kiss, as if he now knows that Felix will give into him even as obligatory protests escape his lips. Close enough that Sylvain doesn’t even ask for permission anymore, but instead just silently reaches over to play with stray locks of hair that have escaped his updo after a long day.

Close enough that Sylvain now just takes whatever he wants from Felix because there is a mutual, silent understanding that no matter how much Felix protests, Sylvain just needs to look into his golden irises and find all the consent he needs from there.

“Come here, Fe.”

Felix often forgets that despite his awful training schedule, Sylvain is still a soldier through and through and is much stronger than Felix thinks. Such strength Sylvain currently demonstrates as he is quickly lifted like he is no more than a sack of potatoes, and gently deposited in a very warm lap.

If it weren’t for the cold, Felix would have run his childhood friend through with a sword for his audacity.

Of course, it’s only because of the darned cold that Felix’s hands slip under the outer layer of Sylvain’s armor to fist themselves in the fabric of his undershirt.

And it’s only because of the darned cold that Felix instinctively cuddles up to the human furnace next to him and presses his nose into the warm divot at the base of Sylvain’s throat, causing the older man to shiver at the hot puffs of air against his neck.

Yes. It’s only because of the darned cold.

“Better?” Sylvain’s voice is rough even as his words smooth over Felix like a balm. The one hand that isn’t curled around Felix’s back and supporting him reaches over to pull the two blankets around them so that they are swaddled in a little cocoon of warmth, leaving only their heads visible above the swathes of fabric.

Although a large part of his brain is screaming that this is wrong, dangerous, and too close; Felix cannot stop his body from betraying him as the shivers slowly subside and he begins to melt into Sylvain. Underneath the blankets and hidden away from the world, a gloved hand moves to settle near his upper thigh and rubs hot little circles that sends heat of a different kind flushing through him.

It’s unfair how his heart and body have decided to stage a mutiny against his mind.

Fuck Sylvain and his stupidly beautiful smile and his stupid velvet voice.

“Yeah.” Felix mutters, squeezing his eyes tight against the orange glow of the fire.

He practices counting his breaths using the meditation technique Glenn taught him back when he was only ten years old and manages to wrangle his heartrate into less of a sprint and more of a steady gallop. Whether Sylvain notices or not, he makes no indication that he can feel Felix’s heart trying to escape his chest, though Felix is pretty sure he can tell based on their proximity.

Instead, Sylvain lets his body curl loosely around Felix’s until his chin rests on the crown of midnight hair, barely disturbing the tresses even as his breath evens out and he falls to the persistent clutches of sleep.

Of course, it’s because of the darned cold that eventually Felix also lets himself be dragged under into dreams of memories long past when he never used to be fear being touched.

v.

It was quite well known that Margrave Gautier was not a patient man.

It has not even been three moons since the fall of Enbarr when a letter arrives at the Fhirdiad castle sealed shut with ink the color of crimson and emblazoned with the Gautier crest.

“Father wants me to return home to meet a potential suitor.”

The teacup clatters loudly against the table, spilling Almyran pine over the dainty white tablecloth. In the pits of his stomach, Felix can feel the claws of jealousy and anger sink into his gut and travel up into his throat.

Perhaps it is because his mind is still in a daze trying to process the fact that the war is finally over, or maybe it is because Felix is half delirious from lack of sleep (no one had told him how much more exhausting cleaning up after a war would be than actually fighting it) that the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“I’ll go with you.”

And fuck if Sylvain doesn’t light up like he was just told it’s his birthday, the millennium festival, and Valentines day all in one.

Felix is weak for Sylvain.

No matter how many times Felix repeats it in his mind, that statement has gone far beyond simple fact now into the realm of absolute truth. And it is exactly because it is an absolute truth that Felix rides with Sylvain non stop through the night all the way back to Gautier castle, and it is because it is an absolute truth that Felix finds himself eavesdropping outside the large oaken doors leading to Margrave Gautier’s study where he is introducing some noble girl to Sylvain who looks like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Olivia here is the daughter of a minor lord from the Gideon territory. Their family has done well with managing their lands and they have also made a name for themselves through the war.”

The margrave prattles on, completely ignoring the increasingly uncomfortable look on Sylvain’s face even as he tries his best to plaster on his signature fake smile.

From his position, Felix can only see Sylvain and his father through the tiny gap where the door sits ajar, but thankfully he does not need to strain to hear the conversation.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Gautier.”

Of course her voice sounds like wind chimes. She’s also probably fucking beautiful too given the Margrave’s tastes. It makes Felix want to dry heave just listening to this and he can’t imagine how Sylvain must feel having lived this exact situation hundreds of times.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Sylvain replies without missing a beat even though his voice comes out a bit strangled.

“The war has been rather unfortunate with our people and crops this year, but Olivia’s father has mentioned that their lands have an overabundance of yield that he has agreed to share with us should the wedding take place before the first snowfall.”

“What?” For the first time, Sylvain’s mask falters and there is an abject look of horror in his eyes.

“Preparations will need to be made immediately, but –“

“Father, this is too sudden. I cannot –“

“You will hold your tongue and stay silent. I have given you time to find your own wife, but you have done nothing but squander my generosity. This is no longer a choice you get to make.” Venom coats his words and the poison seeps into Sylvain’s veins as his mind automatically falls back to the terrified little boy who could never disobey his father.

Sylvain is pale and shaking, his eyes darting around frantically looking for, at the very least, a physical escape from this hell that he has walked into.

“As I was saying, preparations will need to be made immediately. I have already sent for a caravan to retrieve the dowry, but when it arrives, you will need to accompany them to ensure that they return safely. I expect that you will inform his highness of your engagement prior to your departure so that he has ample time to ensure his attendance.”

“I… no – this… I don’t…”

“Shut up, boy. I am your father and you will do as I say.”

“Like fucking hell he will.”

The door slams loudly against the wall and all three occupants jump at the sound. They whip around to stare in various expressions of shock as Felix stomps up to them burning with a fury that he has never felt before.

His heart is pounding out of his chest like it wants to escape, but the only thing Felix can focus on right now is trying to stifle the overwhelming urge to draw his sword and cut down the Margrave where he stands.

“Fraldarius.” Like the reptile that he is, Margrave Gautier hisses his surname and spits it out like venom.

“That’s Duke Fraldarius to you.”

Sylvain chokes on his own spit.

“Duke Fraldarius-” ugh, just hearing his voice makes Felix’s hand twitch for the hilt of his sword. “-I would implore you to keep your nose out of business that isn’t yours. This is highly improper to interrupt-“

“I don’t fucking care if it’s improper.” Shifting slightly, Felix positions himself closer to Sylvain while engaging in a stare down with his father. Eye contact be damned, Felix will not let himself lose this silent battle of wills even though all he wants to do is look away. “Sylvain is not marrying this girl.”

“Oh? You dare to come to my home and tell me what I can and cannot do with my son?”

His blood is boiling and images flash across his mind, filling his head with memories of a younger Sylvain looking so scared and sad every time the summers came to a close and he has to return home.

No. Never again. Felix will never let Sylvain go back to a life where he is shackled and beaten into submission by a family that only conditionally tolerates him and uses him for their own benefit.

“Sylvain is not marrying this girl,” Felix repeats adamantly.

“And why not?”

This is the moment.

Felix can feel the tension in the air; he can feel the Margrave’s furious and challenging glare on him, daring him to speak and make a fool of himself; he can feel Sylvain standing rigidly next to him, barely a hair breadth’s away watching with wide, fearful eyes (Nonono Fe, stop it please, I can’t let him hurt you too. Never you).

It might be 26 years late, but Felix finally figures out how he can give Sylvain the home that he has always deserved.

“Because…”

Confidence blooms in his chest and Felix is proud when the gloved hand he extends to tangle in the collar of Sylvain’s jacket does not shake nor tremble under the weight of what he is about to do.

“…he’s mine.”

Felix yanks and tilts his head up to catch Sylvain’s lips as he stumbles forward, their noses slotting against each other like two puzzle pieces and their lips meeting in the same practiced way they’ve done hundreds of times.

The kiss lasts only for a moment, but when they part, Sylvain is gasping for breath like Felix has stolen all the air from his lungs. Honey brown irises are nearly eclipsed by blown out pupils and the strong jaw that Felix so desperately wants to nibble is hanging agape in shock.

Felix doesn’t wait around for the aftermath of his actions. Immediately locking his fingers with Sylvain’s, his cloak flutters around him as he spins on his heels and proceeds to walk out the door with a shell-shocked Gautier in tow.

Later, it occurs to Felix that he didn’t even spare a look at the girl, so he will never really be able to confirm whether or not she was beautiful.

Not that it matters.

Right now, as Felix makes a beeline for his guest room to retrieve his belongings, the only thing that matters is getting Sylvain out of this wretched place and back to Fraldarius where he will never have to deal with that pathetic excuse of a father ever again.

“Felix, wait. Felix!” Sylvain tugs on his hand forcing him to turn around when they are finally behind the safety of closed doors. “Holy shit. What the… holy shit.” Reluctantly, Sylvain releases Felix and instead settles one hand in his own hair, tugging on it as if trying to ground himself with the pain.

“Go pack your things, Sylvain. You’re not staying here with that pathetic waste of space anymore.”

“What? But where are we going?”

For the first time in years, Felix allows the walls around his heart to come down as he looks as Sylvain. He has wasted too much time already punishing himself by depriving himself of the one thing he thought he could never have, but after five years at war with only stolen moments to motivate and push him towards survival, Felix would be a fool to ignore this bond between them any longer.

“What do you mean, where are we going? We’re going home, idiot. Back to Fraldarius.”

Sylvain freezes for a second as if he has misheard, but when auburn eyes detect no hint of a lie, the smile that blooms on his face is one that Felix has never seen before. It is radiant and genuine and everything beautiful that Felix knows is Sylvain.

And just like that, Felix is falling for him all over again.

“Hey Fe?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“…I love you too, you idiot. Now go pack.”

 BONUS:

Halfway to Fraldarius territory, Sylvain hums thoughtfully and turns to his now-boyfriend.

“Hey Fe?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I be your trophy husband?”

“Shut up.”

#sylvixweek2020 #sylvix #sylvain x felix #felix x sylvain #sylvain jose gautier #felix hugo fraldarius #margrave gautier #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem 3 houses #fanfiction #popo writes #pda #prompts #day 2 #4 + 1 fic #angst #fluff #pining #all the good shit

[lgcyonghwa]

happy anniversary!

warning: this post is LONG AF! next year i am so not gonna do this - will make a graphic or something instead - because i legit typed for hours. don’t feel obligated to read the whole thing - feel free to scroll down to the sections where you are mentioned. 

holy ravioli, i can’t believe legacy is turning one! the last year was chaotic for me real life wise and legacy provided a great place to escape and enjoy writing with my friends. i chatted with so many of you wonderful people and have no doubt i’ll be missing some on this list. if i happen to skip you by accident, just know i love you anyway.

both of my muses went through a lot. yonghwa i’ve had since the very beginning and his journey did turn out differently than i expected. i created him to be perfect on the outside, slowly rotting on the inside. he has a lot of insecurities that he refuse to acknowledge and a crippling greed for money...to the point i legit created a list of free stuff available at legacy and still track his earning. he ended up not deteriorating horribly as i expected due to having an overwhelmingly strong support system. dang it, y’all, i wanted to fuck up my character. 

as for daehyung, he’s proven to be the ticking time bomb comedic relief asshole that everyone can’t help but respect for not having his ass kicked out of the company already love - he’ll continue to be a pest and harass people that he find fancy in. career wise, i am surprised he is doing so well despite hating the world and most of the people in it. guess deep down inside he actually cares about acting and finds joy in it. one day, hopefully, he’ll be singing his own ost. 

i would like to thank our cute sara, who played yonghwa’s brother @lgcyoon​ and currently plays @lgcseojin and @lgchana​~ sara was one of the first people i plotted with at legacy and i really enjoyed the friendship between seojin & yonghwa. seojin was an adorable tsundere pupper and yonghwa is over-affectionate and secretly appreciated. they had their ups and downs and in season 2 of the future dreams, that really came out. i am glad they were able to work through their issues and i think that is why their friendship feels so believable to him. seojin also had a part in daehyung’s life...can we get that communal shower yet, buddy? yoon, though you are too busy to play him now, will always be yonghwa’s doting older brother. i don’t think i’ll put up that wanted connection again because yoon is so perfect and yonghwa already latched onto him with both legs and arms. 

second up, i gotta thank my girl gabby for always being there. @lgcparkdohyun and yonghwa’s brotherly bond is incredibly strong and in fact, one of my best plots to date. we’ve essentially plotted them out from diaper days and they are as close as two guys could be without screwing each other, really. we’ve also been here since the beginning together and high fives man, our boys technically both made it. 

@lgcxcharlie is yonghwa’s supportive girlfriend and she is so adorable. a much needed ray of light in his life. funny thing is that they met a long time ago, via bread. did charlie know that she’ll end up getting a boyfriend out of her kind bread donation? see, this is what happens when you feed a hungry cat - he’ll keep following you for more. now you are just going to have to keep him~

for my beloved rose who plays @lgcjude, @lgcjina and @lgcwon, i love youuu. with them on tour together and sharing a room, i hope jude is not annoyed yet by the fact yonghwa keeps on climbing into his bed. as for jina - hello, fellow season one winner, high fives. they might have to keep some distance due to opposite gender, but at least they’ll always have that respect for each other. now won, sorry, the devil is never letting you gooooooo. he’ll continue to harass you for years to come. 

@lgcseolmi​ + @lgcichika​ & @lgckit​ - my typo queen nam~ we haven’t known each other for very long but damn did you rise quickly on my favoritism list. i love you lots, even though you are a dork who can’t spell anything right! :3c we’ve threaded already with the girls and now i am waiting for the new baby boy!

my al is the best person for cat gifs ever. every so often, i’d get a cute gif and feel my happiness grow. in fact, like we talked before, you send me so many cat pics that i believe you are a cat and will treat you like one. pet pet pet pet! @lgcinsoo​ and @lgcyue​ are both great babies, but you know i have bias towards our insoo. he is such a kind, loving puppy and both of my characters appreciate him. one more obviously than the other. 

em, how the hell do you post so fast even though you got three characters? also, how on the earth have we managed to talk so long without doing a single thread together? oh wait, shoot, it is me isn’t it? @lgcaaron​ is still waiting on his starter and my ass typed this long af thank you note instead of that hohoho-

i still have so many boys i want to interact with for the project origin group but those i’ve already had a chance to thread with, i’ve all loved. our @lgcxpv​ is a wild child but so precious in yonghwa’s eyes. we’ll always have their shower scene to reflect back on. also, your precious max is one of dae’s only semi-acknowledged friends. our @lgcxhaneul​ is the sweet mandu that will keep on getting squished by his loving hyung. we love @lgcseul​ who deserves all the hugs and @lgcminjun​, who will definitely become one of yonghwa’s favorites. @lgcjiho​ & @lgcharu​ are both soft cute boys that i am still planning on hitting up more.

though we’ve only had one thread, i strangely really enjoyed the interaction between yonghwa and @lgceunho​. i feel like they still have more to explore and hopefully will find themselves together in a future event!

also jia, we’ve been around since the very beginning too. i miss writing together. @lgchyunjin​ should come and love on yonghwa more. ; v ; we are the early day boys ya knowwwww. i enjoyed chatting with you on twitter, can always count on you to be around liking people’s posts to show support. 

lately, i’ve also gotten to plot with @lgcsubin​, who is a sensitive boy with depth. i love his character and i hope to write more with you, nic! also, thanks for being around and asking what’s wrong whenever people are upset. i think it is so precious.

stef, i am so glad you joined legacy and see, it is fun, right? daehyung will continue to bully @lgcxjunghwan​ but he does it in an affectionate way, alright? love to lulu ( @lgcminseok​) & simone (@lgctee​) for always being there to chat about stuff~

jen, thanks for teaching me how to gif. i’ve enjoyed our chats via discord and we should do it again sometimes KEKEKEKEKE @lgcxjinah​ and @lgcxjongsuk​ both have their places on my character’s heart - i love them both!

here, i just want to acknowledge some of the people that dropped but still had a huge impact on yonghwa’s life. i don’t know how many of y’all will remember them, but back in the day, yonghwa had a best friend called kiyoung and a crush on yujin. when those two dropped at the same time, oh, that was a huge blow. thank them both for being a part of his life. also, jane was a heavy loss for me because i adore her quirkiness. bobby come back, you can blame it all on me. 

lastly, i want to thank all of the mods for their hard working maintaining the rp! thanks so much, legacy wouldn’t be fun without you! 

for the head admins, i have a few extra blurbs because we’ve been together for a whole year. for our admin l, you’ve worked hard. it is not easy to run events and i feel like i’ve definitely pushed you with some difficult questions before. i am glad we are friends and get to chat often about random tidbits. i am also happy you are taking time for yourself and taking care of real life concerns. your wellness is always the priority! character wise, i have a feeling @lgcmiso​ and daehyung will actually get along well~ 

marie because i can’t even remember what is your official admin letter OTL i just remember you as the mother of merlin and writer of @lgcxking​. it is not like i don’t like jin, but that king is the one i had the most threads with. i really love yonghwa and king interaction because in a place where everyone must be civil and friendly, their hate for each other is so damn refreshing. i still think five years from now on they’ll be friends, but not before trying to claw out each other’s eyeballs first over their smutty fanfics. sorry for keep harassing hyuncheol and calling him papi, please continue to feed me merlin content. he is the best boy. 

FINALLY admin g our grace you are so awesome. i can always count on you to hear me bitch for the two minutes before my angy fade and for last minute cramming. on the week before date lottery is due and i am wailing pathetically for my points, grace is always here to pull through! @lgchanbyul​ and yonghwa as on screen couple is actually pretty adorbs. also @lgcjaesun​, thanks for dealing with daehyung as a dorm mate. the devil is gone now but his influence will always be there

i have so many more people i want to mention but only so much time. just know i appreciate everyone. thanks for a great year, hopefully there’ll be many more!

#tried my best #did not tag everyone by all of their characters #i love everyone and happy 1 yr #lgc:anniversary

[jinmukangwrites]

Battle

Prompt. I took some liberties with the prompt again. Not exactly as requested but I do deliver the Warrior whump. I took a little bit of initiative with Warrior’s backstory, so I hope you all don’t mind. I haven’t actually finished the game yet, so if I get some things wrong then oh well. If it seems this story cuts off a little quickly it’s because it’s 6.3k words and I really didn’t want it to enter multi-chapter territory.

Summary: Stories of war are only ever told by the survivors, though the survivors are not always the brave and strong. They are just the lucky.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injury, slight PTSD, minor and vaguely described flashbacks to trauma, angst.

-o-o-o-o-

"So then Tetra said: I bet you can't beat me at the obstacle course," Wind says, walking along besides Hyrule who seems to be content humming along to whatever the youngest is spewing on about. "I, of course, take her up on her challenge but little did we know a pirate ship of monsters were sneaking up behind us."

Warrior smiles at the story, and how Wind practically shows what's happening with his dramatic arm waving and voices. He's glad that at least one member of their party is willing to chat up a storm about their adventures. Sky would also sometimes tell stories, but none are as creatively told and you can always tell he's holding back about one or two details that make the story almost fall flat. Wind though? The kid's been through some crazy stuff, stuff that he's one hundred percent ready and raring to regail to anyone who's listening.

Or in Hyrule's case, just pretending to listen. Wind has been going on for what's probably two hours, so Warrior can understand Hyrule closing up into his own head and drifting off in his own head. To keep Wind happy, you really only need to say "yeah?", "Wow," and "hmm," periodically. Sometimes, if Wind's looking down and starting to suspect you're not listening, all you must do is say "gee, Wind, that's crazy!" and the kid will smile like the sun and plow on about how it was crazy, almost as crazy as that one time I etcetera etcetera. 

Warrior doesn't mind the chatter right now though, not even Legend seems to be annoyed. It's been a long and very uneventful day and periodically tuning in to the stories being told helps pass the time, especially since sometimes Wild or Four or one of the others will share a rare experience of their own. Even Time will sometimes get a wistful smile on his face and say something that either enchants the entire group or has them hushing with somberness. 

It's relaxing. It almost makes Warrior feel normal, like these people around him aren't all incarnations of the same spirit. Like none of them have seen war, and death, and betrayal. 

Days like this has Warrior feeling like he's his own person, like he's spent his entire life wondering a friendly forest with a group of boys who have each lived their own lives with hardships and happiness. 

Of course, days like this do have to end. 

Warrior can tell the moment something is off about the clearing they've just walked into by the way Wild's shoulders stiffen ever so slightly and how Time's single eye narrows ever so slightly. Legend places his hand on his sword, eyebrows together, when he notices the actions of two most paranoid members of the group. Twilight is staring so intently around the clearing that Warrior can almost imagine his nose sniffing and ears twitching like a wild animal. 

Hyrule and Wind don't seem to notice the odd atmosphere of the rest of the group. Sky gives the rest of them a shaky nod and runs forward to place his hand on Hyrule's shoulder, startling the boy out of whatever thoughts he was in instead of paying attention to their surroundings nor the child besides him. 

Wind cuts off in the middle of his story about how he and Tetra were racing when monsters sailed up to them in a makeshift pirate ship that was in reality a couple of bokoblins who figured out the delicate art of grabbing a couple logs and winding vine around them a couple of times. Warrior is almost curious to hear the rest of the story, because Wind's stories never end on an anticlimactic like that, but silence falls over the nine heroes as each try to figure out what's wrong. 

Because, just like Wind and his stories never being anticlimactic, Wild and Time's hunches are never wrong. 

The clearing is wide and as close to flat as a clearing can get. Green grass and wildflowers dot the space, a bush of red berries pop up here and there. It looks relatively innocent, not a single place for an ambush to hide less they were in the tree line. In the center of the clearing though, is what Wild has his eyes trained on. A small cluster of seemingly innocent minerals that are colored black as night and shine like glass in the light of the high noon sun sit there. It almost reminds Warrior of those gem deposits back in Wild's era. But they're not in Wild's era. 

They're in Time's. 

"What are we looking for," Legend asks, breaking the heavy silence, though not recklessly. His voice is barely above a growl. 

Time looks down at Wild, his lips turned downwards in a frown, but Wild ignores them and, without warning, steps into the clearing, resulting in the entire group sucking in a nervous breath. 

Wild gives the group a look that screams stay there before he stalks further into the clearing, his steps are light and silent. A dim light flashes as he brings out his slate and taps the screen a few times so the sword on his back is suddenly replaced by a giant hammer of some kind that looks like it was made to break mountains. Wild transfers the weapon to his hands and Warrior is almost shocked his skinny teenager arms can hold the weapon up. He's sure that one swing of that beast can definitely dent Time's armor. One practiced swing can probably do more than dent Time's armor.

Warrior feels a little bad thinking about how badly a weapon can harm Time, but his armor is freakishly strong. 

Wild stalks through the grass, reminding Warrior almost of a doe; a creature of grace roaming the fields, but ready to retreat at a moment's notice. He can see the way Wild's shoulders tense and relax with every step he takes towards the center of the clearing. 

Twilight shifts besides Warrior, his hand gripping the sword on his back, white knuckled, as Hyrule makes some sort of whine at the back of his throat, eyes wide and darting between every tree like he's expecting an army to burst through the greenery and cut down their chef. 

But they stand still, they stay behind because they all know that Wild works best in silence, works best when there's no interruptions to distract him when he's searching for something. Too many times has Wild sent someone back to camp, angry because of being thrown off from his normal patterns of hunting and gathering. Wild is a very social creature, quiet as his voice may be, but when interacting with his name sake, he'd much rather prefer some silence. 

Finally, Wild creeps up towards the obsidian, glass like material in the center of the clearing. They're formed like giant balls, buried halfway in the earth and each a different size from the others. Wild stalks up towards the biggest boulder and ever so slowly places his hand on it, which must be smooth as a polished river stone.

Nothing happens. Four releases a breath, though Twilight tenses more, and Warrior is almost afraid he'll snap like a bow string. 

Wild tilts his head, curiosity rolling off him in waves, and then full on smacks the stone like he's expecting something to happen. 

Nothing happens. 

Warrior smiles a bit when Wild's small "huh…" reaches his ears. 

They watch as Wild jumps upward, wrapping his hands and arms around the smooth onyx stone and using his limbs to climb to the top like a monkey. He jumps a few times on the stone. Shrugs, and jumps back down. Almost all tension is gone from his body. 

He jogs back to the group and Warrior notices Twilight release a breath of relief so powerful it could probably power the sails of Wind's ship. 

"Nothing," Wild says, sighing as if he sorta hoped something would happen. 

"Are you sure?" Time asks.

Wild turns and glares at the black stones. Yup. He definitely sorta hoped something would happen. That's Wild for you. "If what I thought was there, it would have come up by now."

"It would have come up by now," Twilight repeats dryly and a smile spreads on Sky's lips; he, like the rest of the group, probably already knowing what will happen next. 

Wild has the audacity to look confused and Warrior can't hold back his snicker as Twilight snacks the back of Wild's head. 

"//Are you kidding me, cub?!" 

As the inevitable scolding begins, Legend speaks up. "So, what now, old man?" 

Time looks towards Legend, hums, and glances back at the clearing, a troubled look gleaming in his eye. 

"We can just go around," Hyrule suggests but Warrior instantly knows that won't work before Time even turns it down. The trees are thick here, they've only come this far because of the trails paved by rabbits and other creatures of the forest. If they tried to go off trail, they're more likely to get stuck or lost than they are to reach the other side of the clearing. 

"We'll go through," Time finally says, though worry makes his features noticeably sharper. 

"Are you sure?" Twilight asks through a grunt. He has Wild in a headlock, as if he's about to give a noogie, and Wild's squirming. 

Time nods. "Stick together, men. We'll go around the border, don't walk straight through. Keep your eyes on the trees."

And with that, Twilight releases Wild from his headlock and the group moves forward as one, shoulder to shoulder. The moment Warrior steps into the clearing, he can feel the tension in the air become static… electrical. He'd be almost afraid lightning would strike yet there's no clouds in the sky to provide for one. 

All goes well until they get halfway through. 

The ground suddenly lurches beneath them, like a carpet being yanked from below. Warrior just manages to catch himself but Legend, who was mid-step, fell backwards roughly onto his ass. Wind surges forward and grasps onto Sky's sailcloth to steady himself while Four just manages to grasp onto a tree. The rest spread their feet to steady themselves, but the earth gives a final lurch and something explodes upwards besides them. 

"Well shit," Wild mumbles. 

Warrior spins around and, if he were a man of lesser position and training, his jaw might have dropped open in shock. However, he wasn't a man of lesser, he was a man who instantly grabbed for his sword and shield, holding them out in front of him within seconds. 

He’s seen big monsters before. In his first battle he’s ran into a fire breathing King Dodongo. Though, it doesn’t matter how many times you’ve ran into goliaths, they’ll always make you feel small.

The creature is black as night, jagged like a rupee. With every movement it takes, sun glitters off it's smooth, crystal like structures like a mirror. It's arms are literally boulders, as wide as a horse and as long as a tree. It seems to flex its arms, testing them out, as it stomps on the ground, it's thankfully stubby legs forming. Yet, even with the small, stunted legs the force of every step it takes the ground shakes from the sheer mass of its main body, which must be the size of a small house. 

"Talos!" Wild yells, and then chaos begins. 

The creature roars, if that can be called roaring. It's more like a wail of a blustery wind, deep and low that it could almost be mistaken as a powerful voice, yet the creature does not have any visible mouth. 

And Warrior is pretty sure it's completely made of that obsidian rock. No lungs to scream with.

They rush to the side as the Talos throws one arm back as if preparing to throw a ball, and in a way it did. The bottom, heavy chunk of it's arm flies off its joint and launches towards the heroes like a meteor. Thankfully, they were all out of the way by the time it reached them, but the trees behind them stood no chance. 

Warrior spared a glance at the wreckage of that one blow and his mouth goes slightly drier. It seems there's a new pathway in the forest, though this one is wide and angry like a scar in the earth and not paved by fluffy rabbits and scavenging dear. 

He can't help but think back to Time's armor and how it might as well be cotton.

"Good thing this beast only has two arms," Warrior says, a nervous quiver in his voice that he just manages to cover. 

Wild gives him an unimpressed look as the Talos smashes it's nubbed arm into the ground, creating another quake in the ground below them, and pulls its arm back up to reveal more ammo. 

Warrior shrugs. "I could only have hoped," he says and Wild rolls his eyes. 

"Weak spots?" Legend suddenly calls out, his fire rod clutched in his hands. Warrior highly doubts that fire could be this creature’s weakness, but Warrior knows just as well that fire rods pack a punch greater than most weapons. The sword in Warrior's hands right now all of a sudden feels very brittle and flimsy. 

"Crystal on its back!" Wild shouts over the rumbling earth as the Talos takes another step. "Blunt force weapons work best! If you don't have one, stay out of the way!" 

And then he runs forward, club swinging. 

One might call Wild a bit blunt himself, but he's always like this when it comes to his monsters. He knows how to deal with them, he has a system. A system that must be followed. 

And when the situation is switched, when they're fighting someone else's boss monsters, he stays silent and listens and does as he's told.

Wild may not remember much, but Warrior knows enough to recognize the traits of a good soldier.

Warrior is a good soldier himself.

Warrior drops his sword and pulls out his own fire rod and charges forward, Legend on his heels. Time chases after, his enormous, unbreakable sword held more likes bat than a blade, and Warrior can't help but to think back to the battles he's fought in. The ground rumbled back them too, but instead of being caused by a giant rock monster it was from the pounding of soldiers feet and the enemy armies standing against them. 

This is Warrior's element. The chaos, the shaking, the yelling. He's always been better at fighting when fighting was the only thing to do. 

Wild's already on top of the creature, having climbed up after the Talos had tried to sit on him. He's swinging his heavy club so hard that his entire body follows the motion, yet instead of throwing him off balance he rolls with it, making each blore more powerful than the last. There's a spike of pure black stone sticking out from the monsters back, just as Wild has said, red crystals glittering and pushing through the solid material like beauty marks. 

As a heavy swing from Wild's club knocks off a chunk of gem, Warrior thinks it's more like a pimple than a beauty mark. 

The Talos has enough and makes a sudden and violent shift to the side, knocking Wild off like he's no more of a threat than a particularly stubborn flea. Warrior swings his fire rod, a burst of fire cascading out like a shooting star and exploding along the monsters back with such a great force the ground quakes with the stumbles that follow. Legend doesn't give the creature to recover before he too is blasting fire, stopping only when a metal hook shoots out from Time's hook shot, dragging him upwards and forward at a stomach churning speed. 

Time uses that speed to smash the top chunk of it's weak spot, rolling harshly yet gracefully on the ground as the Talos howls like a tornado, throwing a boulder arm out in pure rage. It disconnects and hurdles through the air, just managing to miss Legend. The wind following boulders force is enough to make Warrior step back and brace himself. Legend is knocked over, his hat flying off. 

Thankfully, the boulder runs into the forest again with a mighty crash. Warrior doesn't waste time looking at the damage. Damage is supposed to be suffered and mourned in the aftermath. Right now, the fallen trees, the scarred land, the animals caught in the crossfire do not matter.

The wounded and fallen soldiers do not matter. Don't look. Ignore the wetness on the grass that isn't water. Ignore the bodies. Ignore the fallen weapons. Ignore it all. There's a monster in front of you and it's your job to take it down, and if you fall then you don't matter either. You don't matter. You're a pawn. A soldier. Someone to be replaced over and over and over again until the enemy is overwhelmed. The only thing special about you is that glowing triangle pattern on the back of your hand.

But that can easily be replaced too. 

An arrow whizzes overhead. Warrior recognizes the make of it. Simple, long, thin, feathery, and sharp, a bomb tied around it with thin twine. Twilight's arrow, a weapon that packs quite a punch. Evidence of that is yet another chunk that is blasted from the weak crystal. The impurity. 

"You almost have it!" Sky yells from behind. 

"Just another hit!" Wild agrees. 

"Give me an opening!" Legend screams. 

It's white noise. Like the crickets at night. Familiar. It shouldn't be familiar.

It's after Legend delivers a final blow that Warrior is reminded that the survivors of war do not survive because they're skilled.

It's because they're lucky. 

He's seen cowards, half trained souls, live through many of battles. He's seen the best fall within the first minutes of war. 

The Talos gives a hollow howl, something so bone chilling and angry that it sends a wave of shivers over the clearing, and with it the Talos swings an arm one final time.

A final time that was heading straight towards Legend. 

He barely even had time to blink. Hardly time to react. Yet he does. Legends luck doesn't have to run out today. 

Warrior will spend his instead.

His body lurches forward before he even realizes it, palms open, arms pushing forward. He can feel Legend tense beneath his fingers, but Warrior shoved him, doesn't let him stand his ground. 

Everything goes white and he hears more than feels the snapping. The world stretches and morphs like a child playing with pond scum. One second he's standing, watching their opponent fall and the next the sky is all he can see. All he knows. His chest jolts without his permission, muscles contracting and tensing, his brain going on autopilot to try and get him to breathe. 

He's not breathing. 

He can't breathe. 

And with that realization, the pain settles in like an unwanted friend. 

The only time he remembers being in comparable pain was back at his era's castle, when the wars first began. Before he and Impa set out across the land to find out why the monsters all banded together suddenly to fight. To find Zelda. Even though she was there the entire time. He met a man near the end of that battle, or well, a dragon. 

Link, at that time, was still wet behind the ears. He was just a mere soldier who may have been at the top of his class but was in no way prepared to come out of a fight with a man... a monster like Volga unscathed. 

They say the first arrow always hurts the most. It's the same with third degree burns. 

Link was just lucky that he was still aware of his body by the time he finally managed to chase Volga off. His skin was screaming, charred. A spot on his side was aching with a fierce intensity that had him gasping. He was just able to grasp at some red potions and heal the worst of it, but he will never forget the black, scabbing skin on his hands where his sword had grown so hot it melted the skin of his hands. 

He still has scars. 

But now? Now he can't even find his hands. His head's ringing and it feels as if his blood was replaced with acid. This time, he tries to work with his body to suck in air, but something as sharp as a knife stops him, choking him. Something gurgles in his mouth and it's amazing how strong the taste of iron is when everything else is fading into the pool of agony he's floating in.

Something cuts through the ringing. A voice. Very close but very… far. He tries to blink, tries to look towards the shadows kneeling before him one by one but his body doesn't seem to want to listen. 

"Shit---- still alive-"

"Quick---- potion--"

“--not--- breathing---!”

"--- fairy----"

"Stay--- us, Warrior----"

His eyes slide closed and even though he cannot suck in air, his body shudders with a sudden fit of coughs. The voices above him get more frantic, more scared. But he's hardly aware enough to react to it. The black creeps in from the corners of his vision before his eyelids close against his will. 

The blackness spreads, swallowing everything. Even the pain.

-o-o-o-o-

"-omplete and utter asshole."

Warrior grunts with discomfort as awareness comes to him. His entire being feels sore, tight, like it's not quite his. He recognizes the feeling, he's felt it many times. The thing about red potions and their healing abilities is that they work best on bumps and bruises. Shattered bones, torn muscles, shredded skin, missing limbs, it doesn't quite make everything perfect again. Sure, with enough strong doses, it can regrow limbs, it can stitch together skin, it can recreate a functioning body. 

But, those bits you lost are never yours again. What you're given is something new. Something created by magic and science mixed together in a small vial of crimson pigmented liquid that tastes of ass and smells even worse. 

Yes, yes Warrior is familiar of the feeling of new skin, new bones, as he's sure the entirety of his group are too. 

Just, he's never felt it all over his body quite like this before. He can feel it to his core, to his very skull. 

That doesn't bode well. 

He blinks, wincing at light assaulting his irises, though he easily gets used to it. The evening sun is not that bright.

He's laid on the ground, his body wrapped tightly in a mess of blankets and fur pelts, so much so that he can hardly move. Not that he wants to move. There's no pain, but his limbs feel heavy and a pressure building up behind his eyelids is already trying to lull him back to sleep.

But there's a body besides him, and it's mumbling to itself.

He lets his heavy eyes slide over to where Legend is crouched next to his nest. He's sitting so his knees are to his chin, a single arm wrapped around his shins and the other wrapped tightly in white bandages and secured to his chest. Legend isn't looking at Warrior, his face turned towards the campfire, though there is evidence of pain in his expression. The tightness in the brow, the downturn of lips, jaw popping where teeth are grinding. He looks about ready to throw a fit, if a fit wouldn't cause him pain towards where Warrior suspects is his arm.

"Fucking- could have died. I'll kill him-" Legend cuts himself with a hiss when his arm jostled and he glares at the campfire where the back of Wild faces them. The smell of something bitter sweet fills the air. "Wild better hurry up with that hearty soup or I swear-" his eyes flicker to Warrior and he freezes, mouth opening slightly, "-you're awake!"

"He's awake?!" 

Deciding the jig is up, Warrior slowly raises him out of his cocoon of blankets; just in time for Wind to launch himself into Warrior's lap, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Warrior grunts at the force of the hug but still curls slightly into the awkwardly positioned embrace, his arms wrapping around Wind’s head. 

A hand falls on his shoulder and it's Time looking down at him with an unreadable expression. The rest all gather around a varying distances and expressions that makes something in Warrior's chest and stomach jump. Wild has set what he was boiling off from the fire and onto the ground, letting it steam as he too gathered. 

"Okay…" Warrior says slowly, "what happened?"

"He doesn't remember," Legend hisses, standing up from his crouched position, anger sharpening his already sharp features. The other hero winces when his arm his jostled by his own movements, and flinches violently when Sky tries to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "Of fucking course-" 

And then the group is left watching Legend storm out of camp, shoulders hunched, dust puffing upwards from each forceful stomp he takes. 

Twilight, ever the worried mother hen, goes to chase after him, but Hyrule grabs Twilight's sleeve, shaking his head before he leaves the group. No one argues Hyrule's decision to comfort Legend. The two have a strange connection the others are still trying to understand. Trying to figure out. 

Awkward silence fills the group. Even Wind notices it, shuffling backwards off from Warrior and sitting on his legs and knees, worrying his bottom lip. The others are all glancing back and forth between each other, as if they're trying to decide who's gonna talk first. 

Finally, Four rolls his eyes. "What do you remember?" 

Thank Hylia for the hero of the Four Sword. Ever brash and straight to the point. "I- uh…"

What does he last remember? Walking, for the most part. A vague memory of walking. But the group is always doing that. They're always walking. Always traveling. Always moving somewhere for the sake of going somewhere. If he tells him the last thing he remembers is traveling through a forest with Wind's endless chatter in his ear, no one will be able to discern if that was an hour ago, or a week ago. 

That's an all-the-time sort of thing to say. 

His eyebrows bring themselves together as he tries to think. What were they doing? What was Wind talking about? Where were they heading? Who's era were they in?

What hurt him so bad he can feel the after effects of a red potion in every fiber of his being?

And then, it hits him. It knocks the breath out of his gut, almost like how he wasn't quick enough to catch a goat ramming at his stomach when Twilight was trying to teach them how to wrangle them a few weeks back.

"Shit."

"There it is," Sky says helpfully, though his face is sad and worried. 

"I messed up," Warrior says, flopping backwards and bringing a hand over his eyes. 

He really messed up. 

He doesn't regret it. He really, really doesn't regret it. It's a miracle he survived but a voice at the back of his head tells him that Legend might not have, judging by the bandages on his arm he was scraped even though Warrior did his best to push him out of the way. He can't help but think about those white bandages, how they would look all over Legend's body. Limbs broken and twisted and bones crushed like grains in a grinder. 

Bodies so still, joints jutting out in wrong directions, bits of faces missing, blood staining clothes, smeared across armor, swords left in hearts, contents of stomachs on the forest floor-

No, no he doesn't regret it at all. 

But he supposes he can understand Legends… reaction too. 

Like he mentioned, Hyrule and Legend have a strange connection that no one can really understand. One they don't really talk about and when asked about it they both give Time a sad look and brush it off. 

But they talk to each other a lot. Whether it's about whatever Time has to do about their bond, or if it's about something different they know more about each other than Twilight probably knows about Wild.

Which is saying something.

But, Warrior has had opportunities to gain some very hard earned trust from Legend. Opportunities found on quiet nights after long days. Opportunities spoken with soft, reverent voices after nightmares or particularly taxing battles. 

If there's one thing Warrior knows for sure about Legend, it's that Legend has lost a lot of people. He doesn't know the names, or the why, or the who, or the stories, just that Legend used to know people. Used to love people. But they left him, or he left them, and it's left him with slight issues with abandonment.

Dying for Legend would almost be like bragging to Time about having two eyes, or complaining to Wild about having a new scar, or killing a bird in front of Sky, or tearing up one of Wind's sister's notes, or telling Hyrule he's not good enough, or yelling at Four for not being trusting enough, or telling Warrior that surviving war isn't all that bad-

You just… don't do it. 

Legend would rather die than let anyone die for him. And Warrior knows this. 

But at the same time, Warrior would rather do the same. And it was Warrior at the time who had a chance to do something about it. 

Damn, he's gonna have to work twice as hard to earn back Legend's trust. 

"How come his arm's still injured?" Warrior asks, his voice cracking against his will.

Wild bites his lip and heads back to the stew, setting it back over the fire and stirring it and Time sighs. "We used all of our available supplies on… you. It was a miracle you were even alive to…"

 "Legend insisted he could handle a shattered arm," Four continues, folding his arms across his chest. Sky nods in agreement and Wind scoffs. 

"Wild's making a soup or something for him," Wind says. 

Wild snorts over the soup. "Hearty radish stew… I found a few of them a little into the forest. They help quicken healing, but they taste wretched. I don't have the ingredients to help with the taste, but all of us can use some."

It's then that Warrior realizes that they're still in the clearing where the Talos fight commenced, judging by the cracked remains of obsidian rock surrounding them. Legend took off towards one of the pathways carved by the giant, heavy projectiles (Warrior tries not to make a joke about relating to those shattered remains of the trees, he'll probably joke about it tomorrow but at the moment the joke tastes about as good as Hyrule's meat stew) and is probably sulking on a toppled over trunk, Hyrule sitting next trying to decide how to comfort the reclusive hero.

Hyrule was always the more affectionate and physical of the two, but he's the more hesitant. 

"I'm going to talk to him," Warrior announces, standing up before anyone could stop him. Time makes an upfronted grunt but only moves towards Warrior when he stumbles a bit, the blood rushing from his head and blackening his vision for a few dizzy seconds. "I'm fine-" he says finally when he notices Time's hand still on his shoulder. "Stood up too fast."

"You sure?" Sky asks. 

"Yeah. Fine as rain."

It takes a second for Warrior's legs to feel enough like his own for him to take confident steps. He almost trips while stepping over the first overturned branch and Wild almost jumps over the campfire to come to his rescue, but he steadies himself and flashes a confident grin towards the group, waving his hand like the incident was as bothersome as a keese. 

As he walks down, he tries to ignore the carnage of the forest, the overturned trees and the shattered wood. Or, well, he tries to focus on it to ignore what it reminds him of. Of bombs erupting, of monsters towering higher than houses, of bursts of magic so powerful chunks of the land is destroyed and gone forever, of crawling through the remains to find wounded and dead from both sides who met their fate from the uncontrollable force that is destruction-

He finally catches sight of Legend sitting on a log. A giant, still rock as dark as the dimming sky above them sits a few passes further. Hyrule has situated himself next to Legend and his hand is placed on his shoulder, fingers loose and arm awkwardly jolting outwards like he's afraid Legend will lash out. Legend won't lash out, Warrior can tell by the way he's curled forward, good arm leaning on his thigh, resting his chin and mouth into the palm of his hand. 

Hyrule is the first and only one to turn back at Warrior's appearance. His eyes widen slightly and he let's go of Legend's shoulder like he's been burned. Legend doesn't react, just leans forward a little more like he's trying to let Warrior know that he’s ignoring him.

"I got this," Warrior says, and Hyrule studies him for a second like he doesn't quite believe it. Warrior doesn't quite believe it himself, but eventually Hyrule nods, says a quick goodbye, and retreats back towards the clearing. 

Legends back is still towards Warrior and it takes a few heartbeats for Warrior to work up the courage to approach. He releases a breath be hadn't known he was holding when he finally sits down next to Legend and Legend doesn't scream at him to get lost. He's at an arm's distance and Legend is slightly leaning away despite how the arm he's using to cradle his chin should make it so he leans towards Warrior. It hurts to see Legend purposely trying to distance himself, though Warrior supposes he slightly deserves it. 

"I remembered what happened. I'm sorry," Warrior says and Legend doesn't react besides his eyes narrowing slightly. Warrior continues. "I know I scared you. I'm sorry for that. I'm not sorry for doing it though. I'd do it again."

"You shouldn't," Legend replies softly, voice barely above a whisper. "Not for me."

Warrior studies the other hero for a few seconds before he sighs. Legend is as closed off as the first time Warrior caught him after a nightmare. He's not going to get anything out of him besides tense, vague answers.

Back at square one. 

"I've lost people too," Warrior says, faces flashing behind his eyelids. Smiles without names. Names without smiles. "And I can't help but feel it's my fault. Cia… she was obsessed with-" with us, our spirit, our lives spanning across time and space "-with… me. Who… I am. She was willing to revive Ganondorf to get to me. She succeed in reviving Ganondorf to get to me. All that… anger and war… all that death and destruction… I can't help but feel like I'm to blame for all of that. The people who were hurt. The people who fell." 

World's colliding. Enemies from another time. Friends from another time. Warrior has never told Time about his interactions with his younger self. He's never told Legend that he's met Ravio before. Doesn't tell Sky about Ghirahim. Twilight about Midna. Wind about Medli. Doesn't say how close he became with some of them. How Warrior felt like he was losing bits and pieces of himself to watch them go. To watch Lana go. To watch them all go. Fight. All because of him. 

"I've lost too many to just stand aside and let my best friend die," Warrior says, his voice breaking. 

Legend's gaze slides over to him, and Warrior feels a surge of hope when he sees the wet glistening in the depths of his eyes. "I watched you die," Legend says, his voice so very quiet, "you… you weren't breathing. Four had a fairy… b-but-"

Warrior remains still as Legend angrily wipes under his eye. 

"You're full of shit," Legend says through a deep, gasping breath. "Don't ever fucking do that again."

Both fall silent and Warrior can't bring himself to do much more than smile sadly. Warrior can't promise something like that. Legend knows Warrior can't promise anything like that. 

They pass the next hour sitting next to each other, the stars slowly showing their faces like shy fireflies. The moon glides overhead and the crickets begin to sing around them. 

The silence doesn't break, both lost in their own heads or wondering what the other is thinking about. It remains that way until their names are called. Warrior gives Legend a small smile and Legend returns one hesitantly before they both stand, Legends moves slowly as to not harm his already injured arm. 

They walk up, a companionable silence between them and Warrior can breathe knowing he hasn't shattered the trust between him and Legend. It's still there, it just retreated a little. It will take awhile to work back up to where it was, and he doesn't want to think about what will happen if something like this were to happen again. 

It won’t happen again if Warrior can help it. Though he won’t stop it if worse comes to worse.

Instead, he sits next to Legend near the campfire with a bowl of steaming, red liquid in his hands. Twilight is gone, though Wolfie is here and curled up next to Warrior and Legends feet, whining miserably as Wild sets a steaming bowl of soup next to him. 

Warrior can understand when he takes a sip of the liquid. 

Wretched, is a bit of an understatement. 

It seems not all of Wild's concoctions are delicious beyond compare. 

Not even Hyrule complements the food that night. Even Time winces every time he brings the spoon to his lips, but the chatter Wind starts up again is light and the food is warm. A bit of color returns to Legend’s face.

Everything will be alright.

#linked universe #hero of warriors #hero of legend #hero of hyrule #hero of the wind #hero of the wild #hero of the sky #hero of the four sword #hero of time #hero of twilight #jin writes #fanfic #fanfiction #prompt request

[astyle-alex]

[FanFic] Start with Why | the Old Guard

Start With Why    (Part 5 / 6)

Fandom: the Old Guard Pairings: Background Nicky x Joe Characters / Focus: OT5 + Copley, reacting to Booker's betrayal Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None (well, language, because the team is quite colorful) Total Word Count: 10,288 Chapter Word Count: 1,305

Summary:

The thing about betrayal is that it hurts. Sometimes it hurts too much to see the broader situation clearly. But after Booker's betrayal, the team has to look at themselves and see how every one of them is culpable. Booker may have done the deed, but his measly 200 years makes him a child to the others, especially Andy, and like babysitters are to blame when their charge sets the curtains on fire, the Family needs to ask themselves WHY and accept the honest answers. Why Copley, Why Merrick, and Why something made Booker believe that his choice was the right one for his Family...

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Part V  ::  NILE 

            Bringing them to Copley feels like leading Dizzy to her first confession— after the bombing that had nearly taken Jay from them.

             It was a revelatory experience, one that truly was religious.

             It was righteous and important, and now, it makes the first bit of fucking sense out of why she is even there when these god damn world-shaping immortals couldn’t possibly need little old South Side Nile Freeman for anything significant.

             Nicky stares and stares like a man standing at Heaven’s Gates.

            He is standing in the presence of a holiness he’d come to doubt over centuries of having his Faith tested— more even, Nile could see that he was realizing exactly how his doubts hadn’t been half as deeply rooted as he’d feared.

            His tears don’t fall and he stands silently, and his shoulders don’t quite shake, but there’s a clear shudder now and then as an age-old tension in him dissipates.

            Watching Nicky almost makes Nile cry.

             But watching him hurts less than watching the others.

             Joe is praying under his breath, to Allah and the very beauty of creation. His fingers run over the strings connecting their small good deeds to the outpouring of good aftermaths that came in the slight delay of consequences.

            He looks at Copley like he can almost understand his brother’s deep betrayal.

             Copley believes in them, in a way they haven’t for a damn long while.

             Copley looks at them like they could make the sun rise on a whim and for someone like Joe to feel the resonance of that Faith… for him to realize it… He knows the depth of his own doubts would be dwarfed by Booker’s, so for him to see the grandeur in this clearly shows him how easily Booker could connect with Copley over the pain of having lost a family and been unable to see a path beyond the hurt…

             But then Andy… Andy can’t keep herself at standing, old girl just falls into a chair like gravity ain’t workin’ right for her.

            “Maybe this is the why, Andy,” Nile pushes, talking with the certainty she’s found in this new sense of purpose flooding through her voice.

             Andy just nods, too lost in all the memories.

             The 150 years or so that Copley has compiled don’t even scratch the surface of the ocean Andy’s sinking through. He looks like he wants to ask for her autograph, but a look from Nile has him nodding with a promise that shows he’s aware she needs time to process.

             And Copley… Nile gets why Booker liked him, he’s a good guy at base who wants to do good. He’s just been a dumbass in how he’s been going about it.

            But grief can do that to a person.

            Not everyone has the strength of Nile’s Mama.

             And Copley paired with Booker… bad idea to worse, with extra alcohol. There’s a damn good reason ordnance are not kept near the barracks, after all.

             For his part, Copley is a god damn champ.

            Doesn’t ask where Booker is, doesn’t blink when a trio of immortals starts to cry and pray and fall. He just states his case for how he values them, for how their work is critical to keeping even the worst of worlds progressing on a more even kind of keel.

             Eventually, Andy looks to Nicky.

            He dips his head— pleading, not acceptance.

            Andy is the one who looks away.

             She flings herself up to her feet and actually gets close enough to read the articles that Copley has connected.

             There’s a straightness in her shoulders that Nile never realized had been missing, a straightness in her spine.

            Nicky looks to Joe— who will not look at him.

            But Nile remembers how her parents used to fight. How Mama had this look that was just plain quelling in a certain slant, and yet could burn through any pretense of ignorance in another. Joe knows his Nicky’s looking, and if Joe knows Nicky’s looking, the battle is already lost for him in pretending he could keep his eyes away.

             When Joe turns, Nicky tips his head.

            Like with Andy, there’s a whole conversation in that stare.

            But so much deeper between lovers.

             Already, Nile can read so much in this trio’s every tiny gesture.

            After another hundred or two hundred or a thousand years… she’ll be just as close to them as they are now among each other.

             The thought is only sorta terrifying.

            Mostly it’s exhilarating.

            She can do so much good with them, more than she ever could with the Marines.

             She can see Joe cave before Joe can feel it— though her recognition comes well after Nicky’s ever-stoic and serene expression twitches towards a smile.

             “Ten days,” Joe says after spouting off a string of curse words in an older form of Arabic than Nile can interpret. “I don’t want to see that fucking traitor’s face for at least ten god damn frickin’ days. And I want a year off before we even think about the possibility of working with that asshole again. You are all fucking saps and bullies and I hate you all. Especially you, Nile, because you are the most annoying little sister in the whole wide world and my heart overflows with a joy so hot it hurts every time I think of how I’m grateful that you are now my Family.”             “I hate how well that sappy shit works for you, jackass,” Nile tells him as she hugs him.

             “It never gets any less annoying,” Andy contributes. “The fact that he pulls it off so well just makes him that much more punchable each time it happens.”

             Then Andromache the Scythian rounds on Copley.

            To his credit, the little ex-spook doesn’t piss himself. He doesn’t even wince.

             If Andy kills him now, he’ll die believing that he served his purpose here on earth.

             Nile knows Andy is neither cruel enough for that, nor kind enough.

            She forgot, briefly, how precious all life is to her— but now she remembers that resolve.

             Her ultimatum to Copley is accepted with true grace. Copley says he would be honored, and Nile honestly believes him.

            He’ll have to be watched, and he’ll be kept far closer than a trusted confidant could roam, but Nile thinks he’ll earn their confidence eventually.

             “Andy,” Nile calls as they head down to the car from Copley’s. “I’m sorry about what I said about you. You’re not a monster. You never were, you just... I was scared… of you and of becoming you because I thought I might forget the me I left behind…”

            Andy turns away before Nile first whole sentence is out.

            Nile honestly doesn’t quite know what compelled her to keep talking.

             “You don’t apologize to Family, kid,” Joe tells her, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

             “But we will listen to any words your heart must speak,” Nicky adds from her other side, nudging lightly into her shoulder. “Andromache just… gets embarrassed easily.”

             “I heard that, you pretentious holy fucker,” Andy gripes loudly, starting the engine with the threat to drive away without them. The others scramble to catch up, and as Nile slides into the backseat, and falls asleep almost immediately, she notes that what she’s feeling is all the awful stress of… everything since her last day in Afghanistan sliding softly away.

             She died in Afghanistan, and that will haunt her (and her birth-family) forever, but she is not, and will never be, alone.

             It’s something she did not realize she was so uncertain of until finding real connection to this collection of ancient, damaged idiots and really felt them pulling close as her new Family.

               Nile falls asleep feeling safe and warm and more hopeful than she has in decades.

    - - - - -

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#fanfic #the old guard #nicky x joe #Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova #nicolo di genova #yusuf x nicolo #yusuf al kaysani #nile freeman #sebastian le livre #james copley

[flutteringphalanges]

                                             Mirabile Visue

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Sister Agatha Van Helsing

Chapters: 1/7

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  So this is my first Dracula story and I hope I do the show some justice. It will be broken into three chapters just as the show, or first season, was broken into three episodes. Without further ado, let’s begin. (Oh, Mirabile Visu is Latin for “Wonderful to See”).                      

                                                Transylvania, 1897

                                             Count Dracula’s Castle

“You’re pregnant.”

Agatha could almost visualize the vampire’s wide grin as he spoke, her head turned towards the wooden bucket she’d taken to vomiting in. She hated him at that moment. More than usual. But she knew he was right. No matter how hard she didn’t want to believe it, she knew.

“I’m dying,” she inhaled, not moving to meet his gaze. “Just like all of your other victims. I thought you of all people would recognize the signs.”

“And I thought you of all people wouldn’t agree to sex after losing a game of chess, but I suppose we are all full of surprises.” Dracula watched with amusement as the nun turned to glower at him. He raised his hands in playful defense. “Now I am no man nor creature of God, but I must ask, exactly how many rules did we break with your sisterhood-”

“Shut up,” the woman groaned. “Just…how? I didn’t think this was even possible. In all of my research…stupid, stupid…”

She was mumbling to herself now, cursing her mind that had been so hellbent on knowing everything there was to know about Count Dracula that somewhere along the way she had been seduced by the beast himself. How could she have been so inattentive?

“While I am flattered you find me so seductive,” the Count’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “You are equally to blame Sister Agatha Van Helsing of St. Mary’s Convent, Budapest. Pointing fingers now is, well, how would one put it in Romanian? Frecție la picior de lemn? A rub on a wooden leg.” His smile was gentler now. “Useless, Agatha. Now, how’s about you get cleaned up and I’ll fix you something to settle your stomach? No blood, you have my word, and we can discuss things.”

The nun seemed hesitant as she watched the vampire from her spot in the room. She’d been at the castle for weeks now. First it had been against her will, seeing first hand what Jonathan Harker had. But it was this knowledge that had changed the castle from a prison into an exploration that she so desperately sought. Dracula and his companionship was a bonus in its own way. If he had yet to extinguish her life then, he most certainly wasn’t planning to now. Especially if she were carrying his child.

“Fine,” she agreed. “But if you think I’m going to incubate your spawn-”

“I was thinking peppermint tea,” Dracula interrupted. “But your sour attitude is saying…lemon?” When she didn’t respond, he nodded thoughtfully. “Lemon it is.” And with that he closed the door.

Agatha eyed the entrance way to the room for a few seconds before collapsing onto her bed. The bitterness from her stomach bile still lingered on her tongue as she looked over to a nearby night stand where a dress sat neatly folded. Whose it once was, she wasn’t sure, nor cared to dwell upon, but it appeared clean and warm. Her own religious habit had become dirty overtime, particularly because she chose to wear it in Dracula’s presence to spite him. But now graced with the sensitive nose of an expecting mother, she could hardly stand the smell. Body odor, mildew, and earth. Not that it mattered now having broken her vows with the Church. She was as good as excommunicated.

I’ll add it onto my ever growing list of confessions. The woman thought to herself as she began to change into the fresh clothes. I do hope God accepts memoirs.

Her fingers brushed carefully across the stone walls as Agatha made her way down the staircase and into the dining room. Halting in the archway, she found herself slightly taken aback by the display before her. Fat logs of oak lay aflame in the fireplace, the heat beckoning her closer from where she stood. The table was set for one, an ornate glass filled with some sort of fruit juice and a plate thickly sliced toast with scrambled eggs.

“See? No blood, as promised.” The unexpected voice caused her to jump slightly as Agatha turned to see Dracula watching her intently. “At least for now. We don’t know what they crave. You see, Agatha, in all my four hundred years of life, this has never happened to me.” He gave a small smirk that made the former nun’s skin crawl. “If I believed in God the way you mortals do, I’d say this is why fate brought us together. A blessing in disguise.”

“A curse,” she retorted. “A lapse in judgement. And now I am to pay for my sins apparently.”

“Again, it takes more than one to make the beast with two backs,” he smiled. “William Shakespeare’s Othello, have you read it?” Dracula waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind that or the arguing, sit and eat. Your food is getting cold.”

Though she wanted to fight it, Agatha couldn’t help but feel tempted by the meal before her. One moment she was nauseated like a sailor sick at sea and the next, the feeling was almost ravenous. With great reluctance, she walked over to the table and sat down. The woman tried her best to ignore the Count’s eyes as he watched her begin to consume her meal. Even more so when it tasted so delicious she could feel the corners of her mouth attempting to twitch into a smile.

“Good?” He inquired curiously, moving to sit across from her.

“Edible,” she replied, placing down the nearly empty cup. “So, Count Dracula has achieved something that no information speaks of. Reproduction of the sexual nature. You must be very proud of yourself.”

“Can’t I be for the both of us?” He shrugged, straightening up in his chair. “I mean, I’m not alone in this. You are its mother. Whether you like it or not, Agatha Van Helsing, my offspring is yours. And before you go threatening to throw yourself out a window or do something silly and stab impale yourself with a stake, we both know you wouldn’t do that.”

“End my own life?” Agatha snorted, eyeing him with slight amusement. “Why would I have any qualms about my own demise?”

“Because you aren’t just dealing with your own existence,” the vampire answered. “You have a weakness, Agatha, and it’s both charming and utterly annoying depending on the circumstance. You are a protector. A guardian. Someone who is willing to throw away themselves for the benefit of the rest. And that is why you won’t harm the baby.”

The baby. The baby. Her intestines seemed to writhe and knot at the very thought of it. She was pregnant, carrying the child of the one person on Earth she despised the most. A disgust that took her on a journey after him in the hopes of learning all of his secrets. Secrets they ended up sharing. Whispers and fingers intertwined, bare skin against fabric sheet, the copper taste lingering on his tongue. A Vampire’s Kiss without the bite. The forbidden act between Beast and Daughter of God. And now, growing in her very womb a product of that.

Agatha stood up so suddenly it caught Dracula by surprise. Mouth pressed into a firm line, she tossed her napkin onto the table and turned away. She was out of the room and halfway up the steps by the time the man had reached the bottom.

“Agatha,” he called after her, his voice mildly concerned. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Getting some peace and quiet,” she called back, swallowing thickly. He wasn’t to see her cry. No weakness. “I suggest you leave me be and go…go slaughter an old maid. I don’t care!”

Dracula was still attempting to hold some form of conversation when Agatha slammed the bedroom door in his face. For a brief moment, she half expected him to come barging in, proclaiming something that would surely upset her more. She listened carefully as if the vampire would even bother to make himself known if he was spying. Finally, confident that she was alone, the former nun retreated to her bedside and sat down. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair.

“I don’t understand why this is happening to me, nor am I sure if there even is an answer.” Her eyes fell down to her stomach as she spoke. “But for some reason you decided to come to life-if you are alive.” Tentatively, Agatha moved her hand so it rested just under her belly button. “I don’t know what you are, or who you are, but you made a mistake. You chose the wrong people to be your mother and father.” She paused before inhaling sharply. “Especially your mother. I left my family, you know. I left to be a nun. Gave up marriage and motherhood.”

Her eyes flickered down to the corner of her bed. Tucked just slightly from view, Agatha’s eyes set upon her old crucifix. She reached down and grasped it, studying the metal. Hungary. Mother Superior and her Sisters. So many people she cared about, loved, all dead. At least, she hoped they weren’t anything more than that. In that moment, Agatha Van Helsing, former Sister of St. Mary’s Convent, Budapest, made her decision. Setting the necklace down, she returned her hand to her stomach.

“Alright,” she exclaimed. “I suppose we can explore things. But if you are under the impression that I will kill and feed on human blood for you, you are highly mistaken.” The corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile. “I am a fan of meat though if that’s any consolation.”

Agatha stared peacefully down at her stomach, feeling a new sense of purpose she had yet to truly understand.

                                                              XXX

Two evenings had passed before Agatha finally chose to face the Count again. One would’ve suspected avoiding another in such an enormous palace would’ve been an easy feat. But no matter where she turned, the former nun could feel the eyes of the vampire following her. Silent, but ever present. A shadow of sorts. But unlike hers, it required no light.

She ignored Dracula’s inquisitive expression as she walked over to the embellished table he occupied. Steam seeped from a porcelain bowl filled with a soup that caused her stomach to rumble lowly. For someone who only consumed blood, the vampire was well versed in cooking. But having a meal was not the top priority matter on the woman’s mind, no matter how lovely its fragrance was. Instead she remained standing, now mere feet from him.

“There will be rules,” Agatha stated emphatically. “Many if this is to occur.”

“Rules? Like a contract?” Dracula met the woman’s gaze with a mixed expression of amusement and slight shock. “You want to settle upon a guideline…over a baby?” When she remained unmoved, the vampire merely shrugged. “Alright,” he breathed, settling back in his chair. “Enlighten me.”

“No one dies for the baby. Or for me, if you’d even consider that. You survive as you normally would, feed as repulsively as you like, but no doctor is to be touched with the intent on gathering information on the child.” She inhaled, folding her arms over her chest. “Which means no outside medical help. We can learn from what is in books. No one else is to be involved.”

“I’m a count and a vampire, Agatha, not a doctor.” Dracula replied, the grin fading from his face. “Just because I love science doesn’t mean I am well versed in it enough to deliver a baby.”

“Then it’s quite a fortunate thing we have, at least I hope, months to educate ourselves before then.” Her lips parted into a sardonic grin, Agatha enjoying the man’s realization of the leverage she currently held over him. “Are we in agreement then?”

For a long moment, the vampire said nothing. It was only when Agatha opened her mouth once more, about to voice her conditions, that Dracula shook his head and clicked his tongue quietly.

“Even when I thought it no longer possible, you never cease to amaze me, Agatha Van Helsing.” He quietly snorted and met her stare. “You have my word. My, how intrigued I am to see how the roots of motherhood will snare you.”

“If you are even capable of feeling the emotions of a parent yourself,” countered the former nun. “I suppose we will see how our true faults form together.” She turned on her heels and began to walk away.

“Yes,” the vampire agreed, smiling once more as he looked on. “I suppose we shall.”

                                                                   XXX

“You’re reading that book again?”

Dracula peered up from his copy of, Tokology: A Book For Every Woman, looking almost slightly insulted as Agatha watched him from where she stood in the doorway. Her stomach had started to swell, and from both their rough calculations, she was three months, give or take a week.

“Well, you aren’t exactly allowing me to consume the blood of any physicians, so my grasp of understanding pregnancy is limited.” He waved the book in her general direction. “Just one man, that’s all I need and then I wouldn’t have to read about any of this. Or,” he lifted a finger in suggestion. “A woman? A midwife perhaps?”

“No,” Agatha said firmly. “I know I cannot stop you feeding, but we did agree that no one would die because of this pregnancy. No draining doctors, just books.”

“But what if something were to happen to you,” the vampire ventured, eyes following the woman as she moved to a seat nearest to him. “Do you really want to risk your life, Agatha?”

“Then forget about me and save the baby,” the former nun snorted, shaking her head. “Honestly, Dracula, when did book knowledge become less of a value to you?”

“You do realize you’re pregnant with a child who is half vampire, yes?” The man countered. “And yet, despite knowing everything I’m capable of, you show no sign of fear about what it could do?”

“Like violently tearing my vagina?” She grinned when she noticed the surprise on his face. “You’re not the only one who’s read that book.” Sighing, Agatha rested her hands on her stomach. “Women give birth every day and I will be joining their ranks soon enough.”

“I won’t let it hurt you.”

The words were so quiet that Agatha almost missed them. The former nun’s eyes flickered to meet the dark irises of the Count. For the first time since she entered the room did she pick up the severity of his mood. He seemed off, not that he wasn’t always pouring over medical texts and journals now. He, like she had, had taken to this idea of a child from such a scientific approach. Continuous research, needing to know more. And it was that that had been bringing them together. But now he seemed concerned, genuinely so, for her safety.

“You’re reading too much,” she finally responded, breaking the silence. Rising to her feet, Agatha walked over and gingerly took the book away from Dracula. “I’m a lot stronger than you think. I’ve survived you, yes?”

The two exchanged small smiles, a rarity that was growing more shared as time went on. Agatha glanced towards the stairs, arms folded over her chest. It was getting late and she was getting tired.

“I’m going to go turn in now,” she sighed, turning to Dracula. “If you must go out and-”

“No doctors, you have my word.”

“Then I’ll see you in a few hours?” Agatha inquired. “Unless you meet the sun or end up staked?”

“It’s a Tuesday,” he replied smirking. “It’s unpredictable.”

Without much thought, he reached forward and placed a hand on Agatha’s shoulder. Much to his surprise, instead of pulling away, the former nun let her fingers brush against his. They stood there for a moment, both equally silent. Agatha smiled softly and turned away.

“Good night, Count Dracula.”

The vampire watched as the woman went up the staircase and disappeared. The ancient vampire sighed before moving to smother the fire in the fireplace.

“Sleep well, Agatha.”

                                                               XXX

Agatha watched Dracula expectantly as the vampire moved around her. While she was curious about what the man was doing, her true wonder fell on the brown object in his hands. It was oddly shaped, sort of like an instrument. A horn. He hadn’t said much when he called her into the parlor, just to recline as best and as comfortably as she could in one of the seats.

“It’s called a Pinard horn,” the vampire answered before Agatha could ask. “It’s for listening to the fetus’s heartbeat and no,” he held his hand up in defense when he saw her express. “I didn’t kill or steal for it, you’re welcome. I bought it because I wanted to confirm that the thing I’ve been hearing is the baby’s heart.”

“You’ve been hearing its heart?!” Agatha’s tone was mixed with shock and aggravation. “I’ve been pregnant for six months and you are just now telling me that the baby has a beating heart! That it’s living, living?!”

“To be fair, you didn’t tell me immediately when you felt it kick for the first time.”

“Because it was the middle of the day and you were sleeping!” She exasperated, propping herself up on her elbows. “Do you realize how often I’ve sat on this exact spot and worried about if I was giving birth to an undead baby?”

“My apologies,” the vampire expressed, tone lacking actual sympathy. “But what’s done is done and now we can both be assured that the baby does have a beating heart.”

He reached to lift up her dress, but was immediately stopped when Agatha grasped his hand. Their eyes met and Dracula let out a long, irritable sigh. Releasing his hold on the fabric, he motioned to the horn with his free hand.

“It works best on bare skin,” he exclaimed.

“Perhaps you should put down the medicine books and pick up one on manners, Count Dracula,” Agatha expressed. “It isn’t very polite to lift a lady’s dress without her consent.”

“I’m perfectly fine not confirming my heart beat theory…”

“Just let me help,” Agatha grumbled, rolling her eyes as she hiked up her gown. “There, now do what you must.”

Choosing not to bicker further, the vampire eyed the woman’s distended stomach carefully. Her pale skin stretched to reveal roads of thin blue veins that had previously been hidden. Though he knew what flowed through them, he was surprisingly not tempted. Tenderly, he brought his fingers down to rest upon her flesh pausing only when he felt her shiver.

“Sorry,” he gave a half smile. “I suppose you could say I have low circulation in my hands.”

“Your humor died a long time ago,” Agatha smirked.

“And yet you still laugh,” Dracula replied, resting the horn right under her belly button. “Now give me a moment.”

The vampire carefully leaned an ear to the opening of the device. He didn’t need to look up to know that Agatha was holding her breath. Of course, that was unnecessary as the thrumming resounded almost instantly from within. There was no denying it. A heartbeat. A living, beating heart that had no reserves for making itself well known.

“You’re smiling,” Agatha’s voice pulling him from his concentration. “Is that a good or a bad thing? I can’t ever tell with you, especially if you’re being quiet.”

“I believe it is safe to say it physically inherited its mother’s heart.” When the former nun didn’t seem to put two and two together, he added, “…it has a beating heart.”

“There is a God,” she breathed in relief.

“Let’s keep religion out of this,” Dracula replied. “We can deal with opposing views when it’s actually born.”

Agatha’s arms unceremoniously wrapped around Dracula, the horn falling from her stomach and to the floor. Bewildered at first, he remained motionless. The woman wasn’t exactly one to show affection. Especially when it came to him, despite them learning to coexist with each other. But he too allowed his guard to slide and embraced her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Well it’s no gem encrusted necklace, but it proved its worth,” Dracula chuckled, looking down at the horn. “You’re welcome.”

They remained in each others’ arms for a few long moments before Agatha broke away. She was smiling, a genuine grin that held no form of hostility. But when she opened her mouth to say something to Dracula, she decided against it, leaving the vampire to wonder what else she had to offer.

“Agatha,” he ventured. “I was planning on taking a stroll through the castle. If you aren’t too busy being bothered by mortal things, I would like to offer you the invitation to join me.” He gave her a grin. “You can bombard me with all of your usual vampire inquiries.”

“I’d like that,” the former nun smiled.

“Then it’s settled,” the vampire said. “A walk around the inside grounds.”

Where there once would have been refusal, when Dracula offered Agatha his hand, she took it. Without a second thought, the pair began to walk down the stone hallway. For now, they would just enjoy each other’s company.

                                                           XXX

It was late into the night and she was already well into her seventh month of pregnancy when the craving first hit. Well, the craving had long been building up, she’d just had been ignoring it. It was midnight when Agatha was hit with an episode of sorts brought on by fighting the urge to consume blood.

Dracula had found her thrashing in her bed sheets, fingers digging into the mattress as she pressed her face into the pillow and howled. The thirst burned in her throat and twisted in her stomach. She was frustrated, miserable, and the idea of death seemed more and more welcoming.

“Please,” she whimpered, a hand falling to grip her stomach. “Stop, stop, stop!”

She could feel the baby more than ever as if it too was suffering from her infliction. That her ignoring her craving for blood was upsetting it. It jabbed, poked, and prodded. At this point, blood wasn’t needed for survival-if they had made it seven months in without it and were still present, then it wasn’t a necessity. Nevertheless, that didn’t make how it felt any better. Like detoxing from a severe addiction.

“Agatha?” Dracula asked worriedly, moving to her bed. “What-”

“Get out!” She screamed, biting down hard on her lip. The copper last of blood melted on her tongue, but hers wasn’t what her body wanted. “Get out! I can smell it on you! Get out!”

Of all the nights for him to have fed. He silently cursed himself as he moved towards Agatha. It frightened him really, seeing her like this. He knew something was off by the way she had been acting lately. Now he realized why.

“Agatha,” he said gently. “You need to drink.”

“No!” She spat back almost immediately. “No blood! We…we had a rule…no one dies…” Their eyes met and Dracula saw how red they were from tears. “I can fight this,” she whispered. “I can fight this…I can fight this…”

“You don’t have to,” Dracula insisted. “Agatha, one doesn’t even need to be killed for blood, there are-”

“I will not have my baby become a monster!”

The anger and fear that laced her words struck out at the vampire like whip’s rope soaked in venom. They hurt. It was such an odd sensation that he found himself staring absently at the former nun. Agatha had said things, proclaimed that he was the reincarnation of the Devil himself, and yet it was a single outburst about a baby no less that tightened the long dead muscle in his chest.

“So what if it is?” He asked coolly. “What if the baby is a monster? A full fledged vampire? Then what? You wish to kill it?”

“No,” Agatha swallowed thickly, still visibly trembling. “You don’t understand…”

“I don’t?” Dracula nearly hissed. “Because from where I stand, Agatha, your hatred for vampires has manifested even more so since we first became acquainted in Hungary! So due forgive me for becoming offended that your motherly concern is that our child will-”

“I just want to protect it!” The former nun screamed.

“From what?!” Dracula snapped. “Me?!”

“EVERYTHING!”

Once more the vampire found himself at a momentary loss for words. Agatha had now shifted into an upright position, her expression one of false stoicism. The way her arms wound around her middle, Dracula no longer saw a nun seeking to slay that of which was unholy, but a mother desiring nothing more than to protect her child.

“Crosses. Holy water. The sun…” She shook her head, a sorrowful smile crossing her features. “What is said to hurt you, to kill you, has it not occurred to you that this baby could be equally if not more vulnerable?” Agatha sighed and peered down at her swollen stomach. “I got so far, I hadn’t craved blood up until this point and now…” Her eyes flickered to meet his gaze. “If I’ve experienced one vampire characteristic, who knows…”

“Then we experiment with me,” Dracula said. “Tomorrow we’ll open the curtains-”

“No!” Agatha said sharply. “I don’t want…” The former nun seemed to struggle with the next words that left her lips. “I can’t lose you either.” Her eyes narrowed at Dracula’s silence. “Well, go on then. Make a mockery of me. Agatha Van Helsing who has spent most of her life trying to stop Count Dracula actually cares for him. The irony.”

Dracula was quiet for a moment. “Well, I suppose it’s true what they say. Lubirea trece prin apa, nu-i e frica ca se-neaca.” He smiled softly. “Love will go through stone walls.”

“What does that-”

Her words were captured by a kiss as the Count joined Agatha at her bedside. She didn’t fight back, nor attempt to protest in the slightest. Instead, she let his cool hands rest on either side of her face. Her mouth moved hungrily against his, the scent of blood still lingering off him. The last time either had shown this level of romance was the night their child had been conceived. Just as the nun let her hand trail down the vampire’s chest, he stopped.

“There is something we can try.” Dracula said suddenly, pulling away. “But you aren’t going to like it.”

“Then why even suggest it?” Agatha inquired irritably, secretly annoyed that the affection ended so quickly. “I told you, no humans.”

“It’s a good thing pigs are beast then.” He stated quite proudly. “Their blood is closest to humans-not that I can drink it. But perhaps the baby won’t require human blood. Maybe animals will suffice.”

“You want me to drink a glass of pig’s blood?” She asked skeptically.

“You’ve made it clear the alternative is a no,” he shrugged. “There’s a farm not too far out that breeds the loveliest hogs.” At Agatha’s frown, he merely smiled and gently touched the side of her face. “I’ll make sure to use a cup that isn’t transparent. Now try to get some rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

Dracula kissed her forehead and lovingly patted her stomach. Even after he vanished from the room, Agatha found herself wide awake with her thoughts. Nun vampire hunter to vampire, dare she venture, lover, who also was pregnant with his child. Just in a seven month span. If there was a God who accepted her for, well, her, she hoped he’d have a large allotted time slot set out for her to explain everything when she died.

                                                          XXX

“I think my water just broke.”

At first, Dracula wondered if he heard the woman right. They had been sitting by the fireplace together, Agatha on her second glass of hog’s blood, when the declaration was made so calmly. She was heavily nine months pregnant so it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it took the former nun nearly doubling over in pain from a contraction to snap the vampire from his trance.

“You’re water broke?!” He asked, sounding unnervingly panicked.

“Smell the amniotic fluid for blood and tell me,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now help me get to the bedroom. You’re going to need to get…” Agatha inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. “…You’ll need to get the supplies, I’m afraid I won’t be much use going up and down the stairs.”

Dracula had felt many things in his centuries of existence, but never had he felt such overwhelming worry and raw excitement. Diligently, he moved to sweep Agatha up-who protested that she could still walk-and brought her up the steps. She winced as he set her down, but the initial contraction seemed to have run its course.

“You should’ve let me drink a physician,” the vampire said, unable to pull his gaze away from the laboring woman. “Or even bring one here!”

“No,” sighed Agatha. “No, we’re fine. We’ve prepared. Stop being so nervous, you’re making me nervous and I’m the one who’s going to be pushing it out.” She sucked in a breath, trying to remain collected. “Go find some towels and fill a pot with water. It’ll need to be boiled, so maybe start with that. And a watch to time the contractions.”

“Perhaps you chose the wrong profession,” the Count responded. “Maybe the role of a midwife would’ve been better suited.”

“And you a librarian,” Agatha retorted. “You could replace the stones in your castle’s walls with books from how you collect them.” Her lips twitched briefly into a teasing smile before another grunt of pain abruptly severed the mood. “If you would be so kind and hurry back, I would…highly appreciate it.”

The more time he spent with her, the more Dracula found himself learning about humans. Especially when it came to women and their reproductive cycles. After getting everything Agatha had requested, he returned to find the former nun pacing around the room. Every so often, she’d stop and lean against a wall, her breathing heavy as she anchored herself in place riding out each contraction that hit.

“No,” she hissed, eyes squeezed shut as she waved him away. “Don’t touch me! Let it pass!”

As the hours wore on, it became clear that her contractions were not only getting worse, but growing closer together. And while Dracula did love the smell of fear, he was far from enjoying Agatha’s. No longer did she object to his closeness as he moved to where she knelt on the ground by the bed. She could feel the pressure from within her, the weight of it telling her body that it was time. And yet, Agatha felt very unready. She was scared. Terrified. Powerless.

“Breathe,” the vampire instructed softly. “I’m going to move you to the bed.”

“I’m perfectly fine right here,” but the weakness in her voice betrayed her. “I don’t think moving is such a good idea right now.”

“You and I both know that you don’t want to deliver this child on the floor.” Dracula tilted Agatha’s chin so that her wide, fearful eyes met his reassured stare. “So let’s get you comfortable.”

A pang of guilt hit the vampire as the woman let out a moan when he lifted her from the floor. Already strands of her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, exhaust looming over like a storm. With his aid, Agatha sat propped up against the headboard, a pillow cushioning her back. Towels were laid at the end of the bed towards her feet, her gown pulled up to her hips. She already knew before Dracula checked her what was happening. The pressure. The urge.

“The head,” he sounded so mystified. “You’re beginning to crown!”

Agatha was too exhausted to think of a snide remark in response. Instead, she tensed as another contraction hit, crying out as it reverberated throughout her abdominal region. Nine months she had planned, prepared for this, and now in the midst of bringing life into the world, confidence turned into dust.

“I can’t do this,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “This was a mistake!”

“You need to push,” Dracula instructed gently. “You can do this, Agatha. Let go, I’m right here.”

She didn’t want to. But the civil war she fought with her body to ignore the urge, the more intense they came. The baby was coming and there was nothing she could do about it. When the next contraction hit, she sucked in a sharp breath and bore down as hard as she could. No longer was there just pressure, there was burning. An extreme, inextinguishable fire. She screamed.

“Good girl,” the vampire coached. “Keep going, Agatha, you’re doing marvelously. Focus your energy, that’s it.”

Nothing sounded better than a stake through the vampire’s chest each time pushed. The agony. The burning. She felt the tearing. This had all been his doing. So she focused her energy on anger. An emotion that was suddenly forgotten the moment she felt something small slip out from her body. In seconds, an infant’s wail sounded in the room. It was the most beautiful sound Agatha had ever heard.

“A girl,” Dracula beamed, holding the squirming baby gingerly for her mother to see. “A perfect daughter.”

“Let me see her,” Agatha whispered, holding out her arms as he placed their baby into them. “Is she healthy?”

The two marveled at the tiny being before them. She looked exactly as any normal human newborn would look. Ten fingers and ten toes. A small crop of dark hair. Agatha gingerly opened the baby’s mouth with her finger to reveal two sets of toothless gums. Suddenly, every single thing that had ever gone wrong in her life was meaningless. Nothing mattered except the good that had led up to that moment.

“You were incredible.” Dracula grinned.

“I suppose you could say that I had some help,” she smiled, leaning into him when he sat on the edge of the bed. “She needs a name.”

The vampire seemed to ponder for a moment. “Someone so beautiful deserves a name that is just as equal. In my four hundred years of life, up until this point, the most beautiful thing I know of is something I cannot see.” He looked down and tenderly touched the baby’s face. “Sorina. In Romanian, it means Sun.”

“You want to name our daughter after something that could kill you?” Agatha asked, sounding slightly amused. “You don’t find that a little silly?”

“Or fitting,” the vampire mused. “Unless you have another idea?”

“Hm,” Agatha hummed, nodding her head thoughtfully. “Sorina…” With a smile, she gazed lovingly down at her new daughter. “Welcome to the world, little one. There is oh so much to tell you…”

A/N: So as I was writing this, I kind of realized that in this first part, if I ever wanted to make separate one shots based on events throughout Agatha’s pregnancy, I could. That’s why there were “snap shots” rather than make the whole story about her being pregnant. Not sure if anyone would be interested in that. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Part two shall have more romance. Reviews are greatly loved and appreciated! Until next time! -Jen

#Dracula #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula Netflix #Dracula x Agatha #Count Dracula

[trash-writes-stuff]

Metathesiophobia (Scriddler)

Gotham has seen its fair share of chaos in the past years, but nothing could prepare them for the trouble that started brewing when two certain rogues met under the not-so-loving roof of Arkham Asylum.

Chapter Three:

So When You See Me Come Up for Air Don't Try to Hold Me Down

(Warning for panic attacks)

Jon was slowly coming to regret ever offering Edward to sit with Harley and him. Day after day, Edward came back to sit with them. Day after damned day, this ridiculous, annoyingly clever man was getting further and further under his skin. Jon just couldn’t take it, because it wasn’t the near-constant bickering that bothered him, it wasn’t even how much Edward spoke. It was the very fact that those things, which would have usually made him gas or emotionally traumatize the person, now for some reason didn’t bother him at all. It was how much he enjoyed the gingers company that did the trick.

It also didn’t help that Edward had decided to join their little ‘Girl Talk’, which had been a strictly Jon and Harley thing until Nygma showed up. What was worse, Jonathan actually liked having Edward around. He was full of gossip about everyone and anyone, which was useful because even though Jon wasn’t very keen on blackmailing, it could come in handy.

From the fact that Jonathan was growing fond of Edward arose another problem. Jonathan was an introvert; he was famed for it. So, it was natural that after some time he would lose the energy he needs to socialize and turn plain miserable. It was at times like those he needed some alone time, some time to recharge and think stuff through. Harley recognized when he got like this and gave him space. Edward, however, seemed to lack the phrase ‘personal space’ in his vocabulary, and wouldn’t step off. It was almost as if the lack of Harley’s presence didn’t strike him as odd, even though Harley was always seen by ether Ivy’s or Jonathan’s side. Hell, he probably thought that Harley just wanted to spend more time with her girlfriend, but even when times like that did come, she talked to the ex-professor at least once a day.

Jon could not, for the life of him, find the strength to tell Edward to fuck off for a while, nor could he tell Eddie what was really happening. Usually, he would offend the person and throw gritty insults at them until they left, but he just didn’t have the strength to do it today. However, he would have to something as he was coming far too close to slipping into the Scarecrow persona. That would be unpleasant, for both him and everyone around him, and it would give the doctors just enough of an excuse to give him more pills to drink.

He hated the meds he was on. They made him feel so weak, so easily irritable at times, and the ones they added when Jon fell into the comfort of the Scarecrow made him have constant headaches and his whole body felt so heavy, he could barely move.

Scarecrow was a defense mechanism, one that the Arkham doctors wanted to destroy with drugs and therapy. You can’t destroy things like that, Jon wanted to protest, they are part of a person’s psyche and will never truly leave. But who would listen to an ex-professor with an invalid Ph.D. in psychology? Not the Arkham staff, he could tell you that much.

Jonathan had zoned out a while ago, as he was in no mood to listen to whatever the hell Edward was rambling on about. He was just so tired of talking, of listening others talk, and maybe if he ignored Edward for a while the man would get the hint. Jon could have stood up and left, but he would ultimately be unable to escape Edward as they were in the rec room, and him going anywhere would result in a whole lecture from Edward on how it was impolite to just leave whilst someone is talking to them. So, he just had to sit here for the next 15 minutes and tolerate the endless talking. So be it.

“-nd I mean it’s such a pointless…” Edward stopped talking for a second, turning his head to look at Jon who was currently curled up on the other end of the couch, looking somewhere in the distance. The sudden pause caused Jonathan to snap back to reality, as he turned to look back at Edward. “Jonathan, are you even listening to me?” Questioned the ginger in an annoyed tone. Jon looked at him blankly, his eyes dull.

He couldn’t even hear Edward properly at this point, so he just tried reading his lips. Looking at them, Jon realized how girly Edwards lips were. They were plump, the top lip being a little smaller than the bottom one, his cupid's bow was symmetrical and sharp. And if one looked hard enough, they would see the nasty-looking scar that the stitches left on and above his upper lip. They looked so soft too, he must have used chapstick. God, how perfect could a man get? Jon’s head was spinning at this point. Loud yelling snapped him out of his thoughts. It took a moment to recognize what the voice was saying and who the owner was.

“-athan! Jonathan! Earth to Jonathan! Do you copy?!” Edward was yelling at this point, waving his arms around his head, trying to signal the auburn-haired man in any way. Jon shook his head, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. God, he needed peace. He needed to be alone.

“Alright punks, rec time is over. Get moving.” One of the guards yelled. Jonathan thanked whatever spirit was out there, quickly stood up and rushed off to be taken back to his cell. Edward yelled after him, but Jon couldn’t even hear him. He needed to get out of there, he needed to get away and he needed to be alone. He was going to have a panic attack if everyone didn’t shut up immediately.

He was led back to his cell, and the rough treatment he always received from the guard only making the anxiety in his chest expand. His whole chest area felt so tight, and he felt like throwing up. He was going to snap the guard’s neck; he was going to whisper the most horrific things known to man into the fucker’s ear until he was nothing but a pathetic screaming mess on the floor. He was going to open him up and-

He was left alone in his cell. But the cell was loud too, each breath bouncing off the walls, the shadows beckoning for him to join them. The walls were so thin, he could hear everyone, god he could hear them, and he was going to tear his ears off if the noise didn’t stop. He would tear his eyes out if it meant that he wouldn’t have to see anything but the darkness at that moment.

They were screaming, the damn walls were screaming at him and he couldn’t do anything but curl up in the corner opposite of the bed and sit there praying for it to end.

It was these nights the screaming bothered him. When he wished for nothing but silence, the screams seemed to get louder, when he wanted nothing more than them to stop, they just louder and louder and-

His breathing was heavy, the air was heavy, his whole body was heavy and whether he realized it or not he was shaking. He was shaking hard. He wasn’t cold, he wasn’t warm either, he was just so numb, and his head was ringing, and he couldn’t even lay down on the pathetic excuse for a bed. He just sat on the floor in the corner of his cell, shaking and panting in the darkness of the room.

God, he could hear the crows, the crows, the damn crows. They were so loud; they were always screaming. He was in the chapel again; how was he back there again!? He killed the old woman years ago, yet he could still hear her singing ‘Amazing Grace’ just outside the door. The crows would get him again; they would come again; they would hurt him again. The chapel was so big but there wasn’t anywhere to run; they would smell him, and they would find him, and they would tear him to pieces until they reached his bones, until there wasn’t anything left but bones. Oh, the bones he could feel the bones of her hands on his leg; on his shoulder; on his head. On his throat. He was choking; he couldn’t breathe.

Sinful child, you thought I wouldn’t find you.

He wanted to scream but his throat gave up on him, all sound lost before it could leave him; he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t cry out for help. There was no help, no savior. The tune of ‘Amazing Grace’ was screaming in his ears. His eyes were watering, threatening to spill tears. He just wanted to be alone. He just wanted to be alone. He just wanted for it all to stop and he wanted to be alone.

He tried screaming again, tried to drown out the noise in his head with the one in the air but he couldn’t. He stayed as quiet as a mouse, so quiet that an occasional sniff, a shudder or a particularly deep breath were the only signs that he was even breathing.

Why couldn’t the crows just leave him alone?

God, just let him be alone.

-

He didn’t remember when or how he had passed out, but the only things he was currently aware of were his puffed eyes and wet cheeks. He wished he’d stayed awake. The night terror shook him to the core. His skin felt so itchy, the old scars on his back and arms were burning again, he felt like tearing his hair out.

At least the noise had stopped. There was finally silence. He crawled over to his bed. He passed out again.

-

Edward was confused. Had he said something wrong? He knew that his talking could get annoying, but Jonathan never minded it up until now. Hell, Jon always listened to him, sometimes he made his own comments, but he always listened like there was nothing more important.

Eddie had noticed that Jonathan was distant, more so than usual. In the past month, Jonathan had never looked so lost, never looked so blank. There was always something dancing behind his eyes. Now there was strangely nothing.

Edward slammed his head into the pillow with an exasperated sigh. He couldn’t sleep. He needed to know. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he did. The self-proclaimed ‘Master of Fear’ was really making his anxiety rise. The ginger stood up and made the decision to find out what was happening, and tonight.

-

Slipping out of the cells was easy enough, almost too easy actually. Navigating the halls of Arkham was also child’s play, given the fact that Edward memorized the entire building layout. Avoiding guards wasn’t too hard, because they were all asleep at this point and Edward had learned to sneak at an early age because-

He shook his head. Focus Edward, focus. He reached Crane’s cell, carefully opening the door, only to find the man with his face in the pillow, one leg dangling off. Why did he think this was a good idea again? It was the middle of the god damned night and he expected Jonathan to be awake? Sure, the man was an insomniac, but even this was too much. He was going back to his room.

Before he could turn tail and leave, however, he heard someone make a sound, unlike a whimper. Edward froze, not daring to move. After a few moments passed, he turned around to face Jon again.

That couldn’t have been him, right?

Oh, now he HAD to know. He waited for a few moments, and Edward saw Jon let out something like a pained whine. Crane’s whole body shook as the sound left his throat, and after a few more panicked sounds left the man’s lips, Edward realized exactly what was going on.

He didn’t think this through enough, but here he was, shaking Jonathan Crane, the man who had purposely run away from him a few hours ago, awake from a nightmare. It didn’t take much shaking really; Jon was a light sleeper. The auburn-haired man shot up from the bed with a loud gasp, blinking rapidly. Edward tried to put a hand on Jon’s shoulder as an attempt to comfort the shaking man in front of him, but Jon just jumped and cowered away from the touch.

Jonathan finally raised his head, thinking that he was going through another panic attack when he saw a pair of familiar green eyes. Edward’s whole face was soon visible to Jon, and his first response was to yell. Eddie predicted that Crane would yell, so he put his hand over the trembling man’s mouth, pushing his skeletal frame up against the wall for leverage purposes. He couldn’t afford Jon giving away his presence, he would get tied up and sent back to solitary before he could say ‘Riddle me this’.

Crane struggled against Nygma’s hand, and when he finally got it off his face, he smacked Edward right across the face.

“Nygma what the absolute fuck are ya doin’ in ‘ere!?” Jon whisper-yelled in the most honest southern accent Edward had ever heard. It made Edward’s chest flutter with something, but he was quick to brush it off because he had a feeling that if he didn’t answer Crane’s question now the man would pounce on him and skin him alive. Either that, or he’d force Edward to relive his-

“Looking for answers, and before you point out the obvious, I know that yes, it is currently some ungodly hour of the morning. But I really need to talk to you right now.” Edward spoke calmly. God, Jon was going to brutally murder this man one day, he had no idea. Jon did owe Edward for waking him up.

“As long as it has nothin’ to do with what my nightmare was, go right ahead.” Oh, how Edward wanted to pry into what haunted the ‘Prince of Panic’. But not now. Now he wanted to know what made Jonathan run off like demons were chasing him.

-

“All ya need ta know is that me runnin off was nothin’ personal.” Edward stared at Jon for a good moment or two, before burying his face into Jon’s pillow to stifle his laughter. Jon’s eyes widened, partly out of shock, and partly because Edward’s real laugh was the most angelic sound he had ever heard. His face was buried in the pillow for about a minute, and then he looked at Jon with the most honest and sympathetic smile Jon had ever seen Edward give.

“Oh Jon, you should have told me the moment I started getting too hot for you to handle.” Jonathan had three things racing through his mind at that moment. The first one was the fact that Edward had just referred to him as Jon, which had never happened before; the second was how adorable Edward looked (this one would need to be taken care of in the immediate future); the third was how he was going to put this man down if he didn’t stop his teasing. Crane smirked.

“Oh Eddie, I thought that you just wouldn’t understand.” Jon pouted at the end, blinking innocently a few times (Harley was rubbing off on him) before a genuine smile crossed his face. The nickname, which would have usually irritated Edward to no end, made his pale cheeks turn a bright rosy red. He rolled his eyes out of faux annoyance, before flashing Crane the biggest smile he could muster.

“Oh, shut up.” Eddie said, pushing Jonathan’s shoulder, and Jon couldn’t help but snicker at the childish behavior. “Since when are we on nickname terms, huh?” Asked Edward, almost challengingly, as his smile changed into a smirk. If he wanted a challenge, Jon would give him one. He grabbed Edward by his ginger locks, bringing his own face to Edward’s ear. Edward’s lime eyes shot wide open.

“Since you snuck into my cell.” He said in a low, almost husky voice, and Edward whimpered, his face completely red now. Jon leaned back. “Plus, you started it.”

Edward was frozen for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. What had just happened? He could blame it on it being around 5 AM, and because he could, he did. If only to ease his mind. He opened his mouth so as to say something, but quickly closed it when he realized he didn’t know what to say. So he just stood up from the bed.

“I, um, I should get going. You do need your alone time, no? So, uh, just start talking to me again when you feel ‘recharged’?” He said very awkwardly, pausing between every word, and making quotation marks with his fingers when he said ‘recharged’. Jon just nodded, and Edward proceeded to leave the room.

“Goodnight, Edward.” Eddie froze at the door.

“G-goodnight, Jonathan.”

He had never run faster in his life.

#scriddler #riddlecrow #riddler #zero year riddler #edward nygma #year one scarecrow #scarecrow #jonathan crane #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #panic attack #tw: panic attack #tw: mental health

[kindledspiritsbooks]

My Month in Books: December 2019

The Queen of Nothing - Holly Black

Power is much easier to acquire than it is to hold onto. Jude learned this lesson when she released her control over the wicked king, Cardan, in exchange for immeasurable power. Now as the exiled mortal Queen of Faerie, Jude is powerless and left reeling from Cardan’s betrayal. She bides her time determined to reclaim everything he took from her. Opportunity arrives in the form of her deceptive twin sister, Taryn, whose mortal life is in peril. Jude must risk venturing back into the treacherous Faerie Court, and confront her lingering feelings for Cardan, if she wishes to save her sister. But Elfhame is not as she left it. War is brewing. As Jude slips deep within enemy lines she becomes ensnared in the conflict’s bloody politics. And, when a dormant yet powerful curse is unleashed, panic spreads throughout the land, forcing her to choose between her ambition and her humanity…

Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson

Moving forward and backward in time, Jacqueline Woodson's taut and powerful new novel uncovers the role that history and community have played in the experiences, decisions, and relationships of these families, and in the life of the new child. As the book opens in 2001, it is the evening of sixteen-year-old Melody's coming of age ceremony in her grandparents' Brooklyn brownstone. Watched lovingly by her relatives and friends, making her entrance to the music of Prince, she wears a special custom-made dress. But the event is not without poignancy. Sixteen years earlier, that very dress was measured and sewn for a different wearer: Melody's mother, for her own ceremony-- a celebration that ultimately never took place. Unfurling the history of Melody's parents and grandparents to show how they all arrived at this moment, Woodson considers not just their ambitions and successes but also the costs, the tolls they've paid for striving to overcome expectations and escape the pull of history. As it explores sexual desire and identity, ambition, gentrification, education, class and status, and the life-altering facts of parenthood, Red at the Bone most strikingly looks at the ways in which young people must so often make long-lasting decisions about their lives--even before they have begun to figure out who they are and what they want to be.

Katherine by Anya Seton

This classic romance novel tells the true story of the love affair that changed history—that of Katherine Swynford and John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the ancestors of most of the British royal family. Set in the vibrant 14th century of Chaucer and the Black Death, the story features knights fighting in battle, serfs struggling in poverty, and the magnificent Plantagenets—Edward III, the Black Prince, and Richard II—who ruled despotically over a court rotten with intrigue. Within this era of danger and romance, John of Gaunt, the king’s son, falls passionately in love with the already married Katherine. Their well-documented affair and love persist through decades of war, adultery, murder, loneliness, and redemption. This epic novel of conflict, cruelty, and untamable love has become a classic since its first publication in 1954.

Dark Places by Gillian Flynn

Libby Day was seven when her mother and two sisters were murdered in “The Satan Sacrifice" of Kinnakee, Kansas. She survived—and famously testified that her fifteen-year-old brother, Ben, was the killer. Twenty-five years later, the Kill Club—a secret secret society obsessed with notorious crimes—locates Libby and pumps her for details. They hope to discover proof that may free Ben. Libby hopes to turn a profit off her tragic history: She’ll reconnect with the players from that night and report her findings to the club—for a fee. As Libby’s search takes her from shabby Missouri strip clubs to abandoned Oklahoma tourist towns, the unimaginable truth emerges, and Libby finds herself right back where she started—on the run from a killer.

House of Salt and Sorrow by Erin A. Craig

Annaleigh lives a sheltered life at Highmoor, a manor by the sea, with her sisters, their father, and stepmother. Once they were twelve, but loneliness fills the grand halls now that four of the girls' lives have been cut short. Each death was more tragic than the last—the plague, a plummeting fall, a drowning, a slippery plunge—and there are whispers throughout the surrounding villages that the family is cursed by the gods. Disturbed by a series of ghostly visions, Annaleigh becomes increasingly suspicious that the deaths were no accidents. Her sisters have been sneaking out every night to attend glittering balls, dancing until dawn in silk gowns and shimmering slippers, and Annaleigh isn't sure whether to try to stop them or to join their forbidden trysts. Because who—or what—are they really dancing with? When Annaleigh's involvement with a mysterious stranger who has secrets of his own intensifies, it's a race to unravel the darkness that has fallen over her family—before it claims her next.

Ask Again, Yes by Mary Beth Keane

A profoundly moving novel about two neighboring families in a suburban town, the bond between their children, a tragedy that reverberates over four decades, the daily intimacies of marriage, and the power of forgiveness. Francis Gleeson and Brian Stanhope, two rookie cops in the NYPD, live next door to each other outside the city. What happens behind closed doors in both houses—the loneliness of Francis’s wife, Lena, and the instability of Brian’s wife, Anne—sets the stage for the explosive events to come. Ask Again, Yes is a deeply affecting exploration of the lifelong friendship and love that blossoms between Francis and Lena’s daughter, Kate, and Brian and Anne’s son, Peter. Luminous, heartbreaking, and redemptive, Ask Again, Yes reveals the way childhood memories change when viewed from the distance of adulthood—villains lose their menace and those who appeared innocent seem less so. Kate and Peter’s love story, while tested by echoes from the past, is marked by tenderness, generosity, and grace.

Well Met by Jen DeLuca

All's faire in love and war for two sworn enemies who indulge in a harmless flirtation in a laugh-out-loud rom-com from debut author, Jen DeLuca. Emily knew there would be strings attached when she relocated to the small town of Willow Creek, Maryland, for the summer to help her sister recover from an accident, but who could anticipate getting roped into volunteering for the local Renaissance Faire alongside her teenaged niece? Or that the irritating and inscrutable schoolteacher in charge of the volunteers would be so annoying that she finds it impossible to stop thinking about him? The faire is Simon's family legacy and from the start he makes clear he doesn't have time for Emily's lighthearted approach to life, her oddball Shakespeare conspiracy theories, or her endless suggestions for new acts to shake things up. Yet on the faire grounds he becomes a different person, flirting freely with Emily when she's in her revealing wench's costume. But is this attraction real, or just part of the characters they're portraying? This summer was only ever supposed to be a pit stop on the way to somewhere else for Emily, but soon she can't seem to shake the fantasy of establishing something more with Simon, or a permanent home of her own in Willow Creek.

Oh My God, What a Complete Aisling by Emer McLysaght and Sarah Breen

Aisling is twenty-eight and she’s a complete ... Aisling. She lives at home in Ballygobbard (or Ballygobackwards, as some gas tickets call it) with her parents and commutes to her good job at PensionsPlus in Dublin.

Aisling goes out every Saturday night with her best friend Majella, who is a bit of a hames (she’s lost two phones already this year – Aisling has never lost a phone).

Aisling spends two nights a week at her boyfriend John’s. He’s from down home and was kiss number seventeen at her twenty-first.

But Aisling wants more. She wants the ring on her finger. She wants the hen with the willy straws. She wants out of her parents’ house, although she’d miss Mammy turning on the electric blanket like clockwork and Daddy taking her car 'out for a spin' and bringing it back full of petrol.

When a week in Tenerife with John doesn’t end with the expected engagement, Aisling calls a halt to things and soon she has surprised herself and everyone else by agreeing to move into a three-bed in Portobello with stylish Sadhbh from HR and her friend, the mysterious Elaine.

Newly single and relocated to the big city, life is about to change utterly for this wonderful, strong, surprising and funny girl, who just happens to be a complete Aisling.

Emer McLysaght and Sarah Breen, the creators of the much-loved Aisling character and the popular Facebook page 'Oh My God, What a Complete Aisling', bring Aisling to life in their novel about the quintessential country girl in the big smoke.

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern

Far beneath the surface of the earth, upon the shores of the Starless Sea, there is a labyrinthine collection of tunnels and rooms filled with stories. The entryways that lead to this sanctuary are often hidden, sometimes on forest floors, sometimes in private homes, sometimes in plain sight. But those who seek will find. Their doors have been waiting for them. Zachary Ezra Rawlins is searching for his door, though he does not know it. He follows a silent siren song, an inexplicable knowledge that he is meant for another place. When he discovers a mysterious book in the stacks of his campus library he begins to read, entranced by tales of lovelorn prisoners, lost cities, and nameless acolytes. Suddenly a turn of the page brings Zachary to a story from his own childhood impossibly written in this book that is older than he is. A bee, a key, and a sword emblazoned on the book lead Zachary to two people who will change the course of his life: Mirabel, a fierce, pink-haired painter, and Dorian, a handsome, barefoot man with shifting alliances. These strangers guide Zachary through masquerade party dances and whispered back room stories to the headquarters of a secret society where doorknobs hang from ribbons, and finally through a door conjured from paint to the place he has always yearned for. Amid twisting tunnels filled with books, gilded ballrooms, and wine-dark shores Zachary falls into an intoxicating world soaked in romance and mystery. But a battle is raging over the fate of this place and though there are those who would willingly sacrifice everything to protect it, there are just as many intent on its destruction. As Zachary, Mirabel, and Dorian venture deeper into the space and its histories and myths, searching for answers and each other, a timeless love story unspools, casting a spell of pirates, painters, lovers, liars, and ships that sail upon a Starless Sea. 

The Swallows by Lisa Lutz

What do you love? What do you hate? What do you want? It starts with this simple writing prompt from Alex Witt, Stonebridge Academy's new creative writing teacher. When the students' answers raise disturbing questions of their own, Ms. Witt knows there's more going on the school than the faculty wants to see. She soon learns about The Ten--the students at the top of the school's social hierarchy--as well as their connection to something called The Darkroom. Ms. Witt can't remain a passive observer. She finds the few girls who've started to question the school's "boys will be boys" attitude and incites a resistance that quickly becomes a movement. But just as it gains momentum, she also attracts the attention of an unknown enemy who knows a little too much about her--including what brought her to Stonebridge in the first place. Meanwhile, Gemma, a defiant senior, has been plotting her attack for years, waiting for the right moment. Shy loner Norman hates his role in the Darkroom, but can't find the courage to fight back until he makes an unlikely alliance. And then there's Finn Ford, an English teacher with a shady reputation who keeps one eye on his literary ambitions and one on Ms. Witt. As the school's secrets begin to trickle out, a boys-versus-girls skirmish turns into an all-out war, with deeply personal--and potentially fatal--consequences for everyone involved. Lisa Lutz's blistering, timely tale shows us what can happen when silence wins out over decency for too long--and why the scariest threat of all might be the idea that sooner or later, girls will be girls.

#queen of nothing #the cruel prince #the wicked king #holly black #the folk of the air #red at the bone #jacqueline woodson #katherine #katherine swynford #john of gaunt #historical fiction #historical romance #dark places #gillian flynn #gone girl #sharp objects #anya seton #house of salt and sorrows #erin a. craig #fantasy #mystery #ask again yes #mary beth keane #well met #jen deluca #faire #ren faire #oh my god what a complete aisling #omgwaca #emer mclysaght

[imagines-of-the-unknown]

Hii i want a thor fic where Kevin Beckman (ghostbusters) meet the r and they totally hot it off but thor the bestie of reader isn’t to happy and confesses his crush

I very highly recommend reading @yoinkszoinks fic based on this request. Loved it!!Word count: 1.2k

Today was going to be a really, really good day for Thor.  He could just tell from the moment he woke up feeling giddy for no reason.  But it took exactly 13 minutes for the god to find out why.“Thor, would you mind helping me out for the day?”  You had a list of things you had to do in one hand the other hand in your hair.  Clearly panicking a bit.  Must be a ‘Stark Mission’.“Of course!”  Thor said all too eagerly. “When do we start?”“About 10 minutes ago. But you can go get yourself some breakfast, we’ve got a big day ahead of us!” With the 2 pats on the back you gave Thor felt like a welcoming strike of lightening.  He could still feel your hand on his back well after eating breakfast and getting himself prepared.

For the most part of the morning you and Thor had been picking up several items Tony has requested you to personally pick up.  Thor has enjoyed every second of it.  He doesn’t get to spend time with you when he has to return to Asgard and even when he’s visiting Earth he isn’t graced with as much time with you as he wishes too.  So this time is beyond priceless.

“After dropping some stuff off we’ll be able to do whatever we want!”  You looked up from the list to Thor with an ear to ear grin.  It was almost as mischievous as Loki’s. What are you planning? “But before we could even think of doing that. We’ve got to see the ‘Ghostbusters’~” You said with a giggle and began to drive off.

Thor looked over to you to see the way your smile seemed to be fighting the sun in who could produce the most light and warmth.  He wants to just to see the smile all for himself, he wants to wake up each morning seeing that smile with you nestled in his arms, he wants to say something to you right now.

“(Y/N) I-”“We’re here!~” You cheered as you parked and exited the car. You went to the boot of the car and popped it open to take out the extremely heavy box.  Thor was quick to jump out of the car and grab the box from your hands and lift it with ease and a cocky smile.

“Don’t want you straining yourself.”“Ever the gentlemen~” You swooned jokingly. But it did make your heart throb every time he smiled at you like that or literally anything he did. “We’ve just got to carry the box upstairs and deliver it tooooo….” You quickly searched for the list. “JILLIAN HOLTZMANN!!” You shouted all too happily with a jump. “C’Mon let’s go, get this over with!” You pushed Thor towards the entrance of the building.

“What is it that you would like to do after we deliver this?” Thor asked as he carefully walked up the stairs with your hand lightly bushing against his elbow as if guiding him up.  Just hook you arm with his, he silently begged.“Wellll, I was thinking lunch.”

Upon finally making it to the top of the stairs you noticed it was quiet… and extremely messy and dusty.“Hmm odd, Tony said that Holtzmann would be making a lot of noise.”“Should we just leave the box here?” Thor watched as you carefully look around then fiddled with a few things on a table full of technology.“Can’t.  Tony told me I had to explain a few things to Holtz because it’s potentially very dangerous.” Thor sighed.  You quickly turned back towards Thor. “But I’ll be quick!” You paused and studied his reaction.  It was rather annoyed. “I promise!”  He couldn’t stay annoyed, especially towards you.

“WHO’S THERE!”  Someone shouted.  Thor dropped the box and pushed you behind him ready to put his life on the line for you.  You peeked out from behind Thor to see a tall blonde man walk out with black frame glasses, button up white short-sleeved business shirt and black business pants.  For his weapon, a vacuum hose.  You rubbed Thor’s back instantly making him calm down.“Hey!  We’re here to drop a package off for Holtzmann.  Are they out?”  You walked out from Thor’s protection to greet the man.“Yes. They’re out busting ghosts!”  He smiled charmingly.  He did look like the ‘Prince Charming’ type.  “I think I was told someone was coming today!”  He laughed quickly taking a glance at Thor and gave him the same smile.“That’s me!  Although I do have to explain a few things though…” You trailed off as you notice the man rub his eye through the frames.  You refrained yourself from laughing by quickly stealing a glance at Thor with a tight-lipped smile.  He didn’t look all too pleased.

“They should be on their way soon though!” He said.  “Hopefully they’ll buy me lunch this time, I forgot to pack my lunchbox.” He mumbled sadly. You raised an eyebrow at his attitude, it’s almost like a child and reminds you of someone you know all too well.“Awww, I’m sure they’ll get you lunch.  Maybe a large combo too!”  You grabbed his shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. It seemed to of work as his goofy smile returned.

A loud few slams of car doors stopped the moment and soon after was running heard up the stairs.“WHERE ARE THEY!?” A wild blonde haired woman shouted, must be Holtzmann. She shoved the grumpy Thor as she went to the prince charming in front of you. “ARE THE PARTS HERE YET?” She shook the man violently as she screamed the question over and over.“Holtz calm dooown…” Another woman walked in, this this time skinny and brunette.  There were two more women behind her and they all paused to stare at Thor.  He gave them his polite smile and a little wave but nothing more and went to pick up the box.“They just came in! Where would you like to put them?” You went to stand by Thor’s side and rest your hand on his lower back ready to guide him.“OVER HERE!” Holtzmann eagerly shouted shoving multiple things off the bench top. When Thor placed the box on the table you opened it up and showed the scientist how a few items worked.

After a painful hour you were finally able to leave the establishment.“They’re a nice group.  I see why Tony is giving them the scraps.” You started to ramble as you made your way to the car.  Thor would’ve loved to of listened but his mind was elsewhere.  He had to do it now.

Just as you were about to open the car door Thor’s hand landed on top of yours.“(Y/N), there’s something I need to talk to you about…”  He said gravely with desparation.  Thor quickly glanced up to see the group he just spent an hour with looking out of the window, they quickly ducked down for a few seconds.“Thor, what’s wrong?” You asked almost scared but at the same time worried.  You didn’t see how the group stuck their head up through the window again.  It’s now or never.

With a chorus of cheers from the window you found yourself between your company car and encased in Thor’s arms as he poured all his words that he was desperate to say into this single kiss. A little while after you returned the favor Thor finally parted to catch his breath.  The stars in his eyes once more.“Good thing I had a lunch date plan set!”

#thor x reader #thor odinson imagine #thor odinson x reader #marvel x reader

[sailorsolar12]

Heir of Prophecy - Ch 2 - ThorinxOC

Hey everybody. Here is the second chapter. I hope that you all like what I put in here for you. Here is a quick recap of what the story is about:

Summary: While Jasmine, daughter of Apollo, is fighting one of Kronos' minions, it sends her through a rift in the dimensional gate to the land of Middle Earth. More specifically: The Shire. She lands in front of the home of Bilbo Baggins as Gandalf the Grey is entering the small home. Clad in her normal wear as well as her weapons, the company of Thorin Oakanshield is hesitant to accept her. As the meeting drags on, she discovers a prophecy that lies on the map that belongs to Thorin. It is hen that Jasmine realizes that she is a part of something bigger than any daughter of Apollo has ever faced. As she travels all over Middle Earth in the company of dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard, she faces her fears and learns to rely on the help of unexpected friends. Through this journey she has become the Heir of Prophecy.

Rating: T at first. M later on for violence, swearing, and slight romance

Unofficial pairings: KillixTauriel and ThorinxOC

Please read, comment, vote, follow, and favorite. Thank you. Enjoy.

Note: I don’t own either one of these series! I mean come on guys…..I would be a billionaire and not have to worry about my finances all the time if I did! And Also here is a quick key that I will be using from now on:

Previously on HOP

*Flashback/Dream/Vision*

Song Lyrics (When i use them which will be scarecly)

Delphi’s Speech

Prophecy

(english translation of any Greek I use)

Previously on HOP Ch 1

Jasmine held up her hand to stop Gandalf from talking. She slowly drew a small dagger that she often used as a throwing knife, and with deadly accuracy, she threw the knife that embedded itself it the front door of Bag-End just next to Thorin’s hand making him jump back. "I may be a woman, but I AM NOT helpless!! I have taken down an entire army of telkines on my own. I have faced my worst fears to receive Achilles's curse. I am one of THE BEST warriors of my whole camp. I have far more powers than any child of Apollo ever known to man." She stared into his eyes her hard expression matching his.

Thorin was silent for a few moments. The air between the two of them was so tense you could cut it with a butter knife. "You will translate the prophecy. I will think on if you will join us. I will need to write a contract for-"

She held up her hand. "I don’t need a contract. I don’t need any payment. Understood."

"Fine." He turned on his heel and went into the house.

Jasmine sighed heavily closing her eyes. People could be so dense. She didn't understand what he had against her, nor did she want to. It would have made her mind hurt more than it already did. The child of Apollo wasn't even back to the dining room when Thorin seemingly came out of nowhere and gripped her arm tightly. She glared at the dwarf, her anger rising. "What is it Thorin," she bit out. Jasmine was honestly 100% done with his haughty attitude and wanted to sock him in the face, but she felt as though the Fates had a part to play in what she was doing here. She couldn’t punch him just yet.

Chapter 2

His blue eyes bore into hers and said, "What is your motive, woman?"

"Thorin I am not sure what you mean, but I was sent here by deep, old, dark magic that my world has long forgotten. An old enemy from eons ago is beginning to rise again….both here in Middle Earth and in y world. I am not sure which evil brought me here, but the one here may have known about this damn prophecy. That was why I was attacked by a weird monster. Unfortunately, it also means that, if I follow you on this quest, I will not be there in my home world for when the final battle takes place. I know for a fact we will lose many demigods, but in the end, I know that my friend Percy will change and save the world. What I mean to say is that I know you don't trust me, and I know we just met a few moments ago, but I can't help but feel that what will happen will be partially my fault. That is why I said I don’t need payment because this world being safe from harm is enough for me. But it also means that any friendships that I make will end when I leave this world….if I am able to return home. I hope that you and the others will learn to trust me Thorin. I know for a fact that you will need my help in some way." She gave a slight smile. There was sadness in her eyes from the pain of knowing many of her comrades may die.

Never before had he seen a human with such compassion. He swallowed the sudden forming lump in his throat, unable to speak. He couldn't understand how such a young girl had seen so much death and destruction. She knew what it was like to lose the ones you love. He looked down not knowing how to respond to her. "You may come with us. But if you die, it will not be my fault."

She simply nodded and went back to the dining room so the meeting could begin. A small smile graced her lips. She was glad that Thorin was allowing her to go. If he hadn't she would have gone anyway. She had a purpose here.

--------------------------- ((PAGE BREAK)) ------------------------------

Jasmine leaned against the window sill as Thorin and the others discussed the game plan. She narrowed her eyes as Gandalf pulled out the map he had mentioned earlier. She stepped up next to him and paled seeing Greek. As she let her eyes skin over the writing, she staggered back hitting the sill again. She looked as if she had seen a ghost.

"What does it say?" Thorin asked.

She swallowed and began reciting.

"With a stroke of Fate,

She will rise.

Gliding on wings

The sound of her voice sings.

Valar will see that

The Great Power

Will be relinquished

Love will form

In the most forbidden of ways

A stronghold in the East stands alone

As it waits for its King and Queen

Durin and Olympic blood shall mix

The scales of fire will die

As the Heir of Prophecy stands

A beacon of hope for All of Middle Earth.”

The entire company was silent as they stared at the young demigod. They couldn't believe that she was to be with Fili, Kili, or even Thorin. How was she? Thorin was the one most puzzled. Himself or is nephews would be with the demi-god. He looked at Gandalf. "How long have you known of this prophecy?"

The wizard was silent for a moment. He has walked Middle Earth for 2000 years and has always known of the prophecy, but he did not truly believe that the prophecy was set in stone until he read the map.

Jasmine looked at Gandalf wide eyed. She was frozen for a moment before shaking her head. The red head knew just by looking at the old wizard he had known about it for some time. It wasn’t being just being the Heir of Prophecy that shook her. It was also what it said about Durin and Olympic blood mixing. Jasmine knew from looking at Thorin, Fili, and Kili that they were royalty. However, because the prophecy mentioned a king and queen, Jasmine did not know if it meant Thorin or Fili. The green eyed 18 year old stormed to the room that Bilbo had let her use before sighing heavily. She sat there on her bed not knowing what to do. She was the Heir of Prophecy. She was supposed to marry either Thorin or Fili in the near future. She ran her fingers over her hair, exasperated. She had no idea what to do. The young demigod wanted guidance not excuses or justifications. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she flung back on her bed staring at the ceiling. She didn’t even care when her door opened and someone walked in. she didn’t even care when that person sat on the edge of the bed staring at her. She glanced at the person who had sat down on the edge of her bed. She had been expecting to Gandalf, but was surprised to see that Thorin had come in and sat down. She sat up and said softly, “What is it, Thorin?”

He looked at her and was silent for a moment. “I know I may not understand how you feel exactly, but I do know how it feels to feel as if you are the only one in the world. I wanted to tell you that I am willing to give you a share of the treasure that lies within the mountain. Although I will not be able to write an official document, do you know of any way in which we can make this official?”

Jasmine looked at him as if he was crazy. “There is a way, but I do not think that you will like it. It is the most common way for us demigods to make pacts or oaths.”

“How do we do it?”

“We must swear on the River Styx.”

Thorin was silent. “I see. If you don’t feel comfortable then we do not have to do it, but I wish to make the oath official and concrete if you will.”

Jasmine nodded and looked at her hands. She looked at the dwarf king and gave a soft smile. “Repeat after me: I, Thorin Oakanshield, swear on the River Styx that I will give everyone in my company a share of the treasure in the Lonely Mountain.”

“I, Thorin Oakanshield, swear on the River Styx that I will give everyone in my company a share of the treasure in the Lonely Mountain.”

There was a low rumble that shook the house slightly.

Jasmine smiled softly and looked up at the ceiling. “Ναι, Gramps. Θα σιγουρευτώ ότι η εταιρεία θα πετύχει, (Yes, Gramps. I will make sure this company succeeds),” she said in Greek.

Another rumble sounded that shook the house more.

Jasmine sighed. “Μην ανησυχείτε. Εντάξει, Gramps? (Don’t worry. Okay Gramps?)”

Silence was the only answer the demigod got. The temperamental god of the skies was always like this. She didn’t understand why he was, but at times it got really annoying.

Jasmine looked at Thorin and gave her signature smile that seemed to light up the room. “Now it is official. The Olympians have heard and I have as well. So if anyone questions this oath then I will give you a friendly - or not so friendly - reminder. It honestly depends what happens at the time when you are to give everyone a bit of the treasure.”

Thorin couldn’t help but nod. This girl was like sunshine, even when he had been extremely rude to her beforehand. He couldn’t understand why she was this way. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she was the daughter of the sun god. He mentally shrugged it off, not wanting to dwell on the matter. He stood from her bed and said, “There is some food left for you, if you are hungry. We leave at dawn. I am not sure if you would like to use your flying horse or one of our ponies. It is your decision. Have a good rest tonight.” He turned and left her room without another word.

Jasmine stared after the dwarf and shook her head laughing softly. The people of Middle Earth sure were peculiar, but she liked them. She was glad that the Fates made her the one to come here. She stood and slowly shed her clothes as she locked the bedroom door. She changed into short shorts and a cami. She laid in bed and slept, hoping that she would just have a normal dream for once in her life. Unfortunately, the Fates wouldn’t have that.

*Dream Scene*

Jasmine felt as if her spirit was floating. She furrowed her brow and walked around what seemed to be a Yacht. Where was she? What was she doing here? She landed silently on the deck and slowly walked around. She held in a gasp when she realized where she was: On Kronos' ship. Why in the name of Hades was she here? She swallowed and jumped flying in the air hovering outside the captain's room. She paled when Luke- no Kronos now- looked right at her and smirked.

"You stupid girl you shouldn't be here," he said. Somehow his voice was right behind her in her ear.

Jasmine whipped around seeing him behind her. She swallowed and went wide eyed realizing that it was in fact Luke who had spoken. "Luke how are you able to-"

He placed a dagger at her throat. "If you utter one more word I will not hesitate to kill you now. I know your weakness Heir of Prophecy," he hissed.

Jasmine went completely still and dead silent. Where had the boy that was best friend to her gone? How could he follow someone like Kronos? Why would he betray her? She felt tears well up in her eyes and closed them to try and hold them in. Ultimately that failed. She felt her tears spill over. She felt Luke lower his dagger in confusion.

Luke suddenly smirked. “You stupid girl. Do you honestly believe that I will have pity on you?” he brought the dagger up to strike the part of her neck that was her weakness, but an arrow stopped him.

Jasmine turned and froze seeing Thorin. How the hell was he here? He wasn’t a demigod was he? Why was he able to follow her?

“Jasmine, you need to wake up before he kills you,” he stated as he knocked another arrow to shoot at Luke.

Luke simply smirked and used his free hand to grab Jasmine’s arm and turn her to face him. His lips collided with hers as he began to raise the dagger again, but a bright light enveloped both her and Thorin sending the pair back to the world of the living.

*End Dream Scene*

Jasmine bolted up panting heavily only to see Thorin, Fili, and Kili standing around her with Bilbo and Gandalf. She stared at Thorin. “How in the name of my dear uncle were you able to go into my mind?!”

Gandalf chose to speak up at that moment. “I know a spell that allowed him to. What I want to know is, why did that dream seem more like reality to me. Why?”

Jasmine looked down. “For demigods, when we dream it is real. I was on that boat, but I know that Luke was an illusion that Kronos created to allure me. I....I almost fell for it, if you had not come Thorin. But I want to know how you knew to come?"

Thorin was silent. “I am not sure how I knew, but Gandalf expressed that there was a dark presence around your room, and we decided to see what was wrong.”

Jasmine nodded and held her head in between her hands sighing heavily. “I don’t even know why the Fates made me go there? I am not going to be a part of that battle anymore.” She groaned softly and shook her head. She looked up. “I need some air. I’ll be outside until we leave to gather supplies. Now all five of you out so I can change.” She shooed them out and changed back into the same outfit from before, strapping her weapons to her body. She snuck out the window after locking the bedroom door and sat in the garden inhaling the fresh air. “Gods, this air is so much better to breathe than that shit in New York. No smog, no pollution, nothing at all. I love it,” she said softly as she laid down in the grass. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day. That was for sure. She sighed softly and happily as sleep called for her once again. This time her spirit didn’t wander which was a good thing.

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Well that is the second chapter. I hoped that all of you liked this chapter. I hope that you like this story so far. I know it is not the exact way in which the movie or the book goes, but there will be MANY similarities as the story goes on. I will also look up the script for the movie online and make sure to put some of it into the story.

Thank you again. Please favorite, follow, and review. Thank you so much for reading and I do accept constructive criticism, but please no bashing.

Thank you again,

Sailor_Solar_12

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