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notquitecanon · 5 months

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Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until-

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond? an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket.

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already."

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold."

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us."

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack.

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could.

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!"

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you. Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you.

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed. Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared.

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing."

"No promises."

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt.

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more."

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern.

____

Ambushed in the night.

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept.

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow.

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest.

And Astarion? Their target?

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger. With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion.

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart.

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over. Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying.

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion. With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body.

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt.

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief.

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name.

"SHADOWHEART!"

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared. All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night.

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled.

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort. You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you.

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart. Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first.

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake.

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them."

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out."

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed.

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you.

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste."

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier."

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something.

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered?

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-"

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed.

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood.

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape.

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying.

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you."

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse?

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him.

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy.

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck.

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with.

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile?

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being?

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it.

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl."

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?"

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you.

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation.

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

#me when I can use both literal and metaphorical vampirism as an allegory of being consumed by love.#astarion x reader #astarion x you #Astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 fanfic #Astarion self insert

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saytrrose · 5 months

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Can we see More about your racing AU please?

Looks so amazing and i love It so much

I do suppose I could share the character design line up!

I really just need to finish designing all the go karts, (atleast most are done!) and then I can make proper cards for them and really get into the written details.

To be honest it’s a little hard to just ramble about info and details without specific questions to go off of, so I’ll try my best hhh

for starters, the tent? Not a tent!

It’s actually a stadium, the amazing digital race!

And rooms? Sort of tweaked, they are more like each character owns a personal garage, a large open space where they store their vehicles and then have a loft above that showcases their cozy safe havens. Bed, entertainment, basically a small room in a much larger one.

I haven’t revealed Ragatha, Zooble or Gangles karts yet but I’ll go ahead and just talk about all of them!

Caine:

Caine has a motorcycle, specifically one inspired off of the motorcycle I’m saving up for this summer, a Kawasaki Eliminator. It’s a cruiser, I’m thinking he has a 600cc model but considering Bubble is his right hand man and operates as the races pit crew- he’s definitely tinkered with Caines bike, making adjustments and improving the engine. God only knows what the little psycho did, but it’s a damn good bike that’s not supposed to rev as loud as it does.

Pomni:

Her kart is inspired off a Volkswagen Beetle, seemed very VERY Pomni to me. Her car mimics her outfit design a lot, I might do some color changes to be honest but it will be super minimal, it’ll be final when the cards are done! She definitely stops at the pit the most often despite her placement in a race, are my tires okay?? Do I need my oil?? I know you just filled it but it went down- is anything damaged?? Sweetie you did one lap..

Jax:

Jesus Christ he has a giant supercharger on the hood of his car, and he is absolutely one of those annoying mfs that reva their engine OBNOXIOUSLY loud all the time like he’s super cool. If you’re wondering who most of the skid marks on the track are from, that’s also Jax. Hes the best as drifting, and he loves to show that off. His car isn’t based too much on an actual vehicle?? I stared at Mario karts and pieced it together, but also gave it a very sports car look, the wing on the back fr fr I think Jax would dig that.

Kinger:

OHHSOSK I was so creative with his little wagon,,, it’s castle shaped!! And the best part? Operates like a rocket. In the back past the battlement (the crown looking thing you see atop castle pillars) ARE GIANT exhaust pipes and yes, they do spit fire !! Operates like a rocket. It’s very cool! (Also he has a great muffler because unlike Jax he’s considerate of others hearing 💔) Oh also, he has one of those silly horns, I forgot how to describe it but you can just look at how I drew it on his kart and you’ll know heheh!

Zooble:

Our second motorcyclist, owns a trike! If you don’t know what that is, picture a bike with training wheels but super badass. 3 wheels! It’s inspired off the Harley Davidson freewheeler, I like that design a lot but it’s def not actually a Harley because istg when you buy those bikes your just paying for the fancy name brand- expect it to be in the shop all the time, smh not good- BUT ANYWAY!! The looks are inspired off it though and I can’t wait for this one because it’s just as crazy kooky as Zoobles design is.

Gangle:

Her kart is based on my favorite car, classic style but not too cool because you can bet she has anime stickers on the back and a decal that says “please let me merge before I start crying.” It’s similar to a karmann ghia convertible, 1963. Cherry red (so so pretty) She always has the top down, unless competing because damn you gotta go fast. That car itself is really slow, top speed normally is 68mph, however people have modified them enough to get up to 120mph. Thats still pretty slow compared to others, but her kart only reflects the appearance of the ghia! It’s much faster and I assume Bubble works on all their vehicles if asked to.

Lastly, Ragatha:

Our 3rd motorcyclist. 4 Karts, 3 cyclists. Her bike is a futuristic style, if you want a good idea then look up “icare bike”! Not so much a straight forward posture, she leans over ofc, you’ll likely get the idea when you see her bike. I’ll be honest, I haven’t gotten too into her design yet because I haven’t started drawing but!! Dark blue leds,, everywhere yes yes so cool ❤️

Sorry that’s so much 😭 but yeah! Just need to finish 3 kart designs for you guys and I can make official ref cards 👀

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #Caine #tadc Caine #Pomni #tadc Pomni #Jax #tadc Jax #kinger #tadc Kinger #Zooble #tadc Zooble #gangle #tadc gangle #Ragatha #tadc Ragatha #tadc racing au

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wittysuns · 5 months

Text

𝓲𝓲. 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗮𝗻 | Aegon II Targaryen

which in Aegon II Targaryen runaway from King’s Landing with his dragon and founds love on the way.

masterlist ✨

Eva was scrubbing the dirty plates with half of the sponge. After she was done eating, she went over to the sink and started to wash the plates and knife she used during her cooking. One of the things that Eva hated about being a mother was that there was no one helping her. Leo sometimes helped his mother but it was tough on her.

“MAMA!”

Eva heard her son’s yells coming from outside and this made her panic. She dropped the plate that was in her hand and rushed out of her home.

“Leo!” Eva shouts looking at the front to see Leo jumping and his little tiny hand back and forward telling her to come.

Her motherly instinct kicked in and ran towards her son. Once she got to him and had to check on him. Eva kneeled to the ground and checked every inch of his body to see if there were any injuries.

“What happened? Are you okay? Turn around let me see.” Eva rammed as she turned her son around to see no injury.

“Mama! I’m not injured. He is.” Leo pointed at the side of him and Eva turned her head to see an unconscious man.

“Oh my!” Eva rushed to the unconscious man. She didn’t know whether he was dead or not.

Leo was right beside his mother. While his mother was checking on the man, the little boy turned his head because he heard a little growl and saw the beast. The beast stares into his eyes and nods at the boy before leaving further to the forest.

“Leo, why don’t you get Mama’s wagon? Okay, can you do that for me?” Eva tells her son and Leo nods and rushes away.

As she watches her son leave. Eva went back to looking at the man grabbed his shoulder and turned him to the side laying him down flat.

Eva looked at his stomach to see it pumping up and down which meant he was still alive. He is deeply unconscious. But she saw that his leg had a cut on his leg so she needed to treat that. Then she looked at the man and saw his face was covered by the cloak of a hood. She reaches out to take off the hood but hears the wheels of a cart and looks up to see Leo coming with the wagon.

“Mama I got it.” Leo parked a cart near his mother. “Good job baby.” Eva got up to the ground and patted his head.

The mother went over to the wagon and tilt a bit. Eva went over to the man and grabbed him under his armpit and Leo grabbed his two legs. She counted on three before she and her son lifted the man’s body off the ground. They both gently put him in the wagon successfully not injuring him more than.

Leo helped his mother push the wagon, it was hard to push but they got it. Took about 5 minutes to push the wagon inside the Stone’s house.

The closest chamber was her son’s room and brought the man inside. Eva gently placed the unconscious body on Leo’s bed and then told her son to go take back the wagon. Leo obeyed and took the wagon out of his room.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Eva sewed his wound to the man who had a cut on his right leg. She went over to untie the cloak slowly slipped it out of his body and gently lifted his head. His head flops onto the pillow. Eva walks over to the door and hangs his dark green coat in the door corner. Then she takes off his boots and left the room and Leo was already filling up a bowl with warm water in the sink. His adorable tipping toes.

“My sweet Leo, you didn’t have to do that.” Eva kissed her son’s forehead. Then turn off the water from the sink. She went over to the drawers and got a clean rag.

“Mama! Is he okay?” Leo asks his mother tugging on her long dress. Eva looks down at her son and gets on one knee.

“Yes, you know why? Because we are going to help him.” Eva responds to Leo making a weak smile.

“Now go play with your toys I made you.” Eva whispered to her son’s ear before kissing him and he let out a tickle-ish laugh.

She watches her son go running to the parlour room. Eva went over to the sink and grabbed the bowl with one hand and the other hand with the white rag. She walked over to Leo’s chamber and went inside.

Eva walks to the counter and sets down the warm water. She grabbed the chair from Leo’s desk and sat down. The mother looks at the man that was lying on her son’s bed.

The brown-haired woman looked at the man and saw the man had beautiful short silver hair. Eva had never seen this kind of color before this was her first time.

Her hands went above the man’s face putting small parts of his sliver hair at the side of her face. Eva saw that he had his face dirty and a little cut on the right side of his cheek.

She dumps the folded towel inside the warm water and twists it to get all of the water out of the towel. She puts it against the sliver-haired man’s forehead and starts cleaning his face since it is dirty.

When Eva was done cleaning his face, she put a little cream on his cut and a little wound dressing on his cheek. After all that cleaning she saw that the man had a handsome face.

What are you thinking Eva!? He is a random person!, Eva thought to herself.

The mother gets up from the chair and puts it back where she got it from. Then got the bowl of water with the wet towel and walked away from the unconscious man. Eva took one last look at the sliver-haired man before closing the door leaving a little bit of an opening.

#aegon ii fic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen love story #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon x oc #aegon x reader #tom glynn carney

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blues824 · 1 year

Text

Once Upon A Dream

Gender-neutral reader, a tad self-indulgent. References a train, but could reference a dress, tailcoats, a cape of some fabulous sort, etc.

Use of the word officiant, but I meant it in a way where he marries the two of you, and I did not use any religious traditions; just headcanon fae traditions. Also uses the word bridesmaids, but I did not describe reader as a ‘bride’.

Pricking of fingers on a spinning wheel, blood.

Malleus Draconia

It was a joyful day within Briar Valley. Everyone was rushing to put the finishing touches on their homes and stores, decorating with the most beautiful flowers anyone has ever seen. The whole town was bustling with excitement and magic. Farmers from the outskirts of the land were coming in on their wagons filled with even more flowers so no one would worry about running out.

You looked outside of your window in your silk pajamas to see all of the preparations being made for your big day. You took a huge whiff of fresh air, and you could smell the freshness of the floral arrangements. Someone then knocked on the door, and you smiled as you gently opened the door to reveal a maid and a manservant holding your attire. Just seeing the outfit brought joy to your heart and a smile to your face.

For years, you had been imagining this day: your wedding day.

The maid helped you bathe and moisturize and spray perfume on, before helping you into the wedding attire. It had a bit of a train in the back, so she had to call over the manservant to help hold the train in place. Your hair was arranged with a crown of blossoming flowers, and you were given a bouquet. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you let out a gasp at how different but similar you looked.

The servants who were helping you get ready were all very friendly and excited, despite you being human and they being fae folk. Actually, a lot of the citizens within the town and all of the land of Briar Valley thought you were beautiful and kind, just like your friends back at NRC did… just like your fiancé did as well.

Oh yes, everyone was making a big deal of the wedding that day because you were marrying Malleus Draconia, the Crowned Prince of Briar Valley. Queen Maleficia herself approved of this match, as she had never seen her grandson so in love and so happy with someone by his side, and said that after your wedding ceremony, she would relinquish the crown to the prince so that he would be King and you would be his Spouse and Co-Ruler.

Unfortunately, your bridesmaids would be some of the ladies you had made friends with here in Briar Valley. All of your family were still back in your world, a place you still couldn’t get to yet. It didn’t sadden you too much, though, because you could start a whole new life here in Twisted Wonderland.

You had already been through the training and lessons on how to be both a person of the court and a ruler. However, you did not see your fiancé for much of that time. Instead, you became quite close to both the current Queen and Lilia. You went through a lot of harsh history lessons, mostly consisting of the disagreements between humans and faes.

Your marriage would be one of genuine love between human and fae kind, not one of convenience or alliance.

The sentence was heavier on your head than the floral crown you were wearing, probably because of the truth it held. You loved Malleus with all your heart, which is why you dealt with walking with books on your head, with sword fighting, with saying hello to multiple different nobles within the kingdom, with not seeing him as you were in training…

You had no magic, and you were fully capable of doing all of this to prove your love and dedication not just to your husband-to-be, but the kingdom you were going to rule. It was enough for the people and the Queen to be proud, because you cast aside your differences and tried to learn.

Eventually, the maid that made her appearance this morning led you by the hand out to the castle’s entrance while the manservant followed behind, holding up the train of your outfit. The other servants were all at the sides of the corridors and halls as you made your way, congratulating you and wishing you good fortune. You would see them later, at the actual celebration once the ceremony had commenced.

One thing that was part of fae culture, specifically with weddings, was that the newlyweds had to prick their finger upon a spinning wheel so as to bind their beings together as one whole. You saw a wagon being loaded up with such a wheel. It was going to be the front of the procession, as you made your way to the meadow where the wedding was taking place.

The maid helped you onto the unicorn (yes, a unicorn), as it would have been a bit of a walk in the shoes you had on. You let out a gasp at how beautiful it was, and you ran your hand through its soft mane before you were joined by Sebek and Silver (dressed in the groomsmen attire) at your sides. They were on horseback, and they were there to make sure you made it to the altar safely. After all, Malleus and Maleficia would have their heads if you were kidnapped or harmed at all.

You looked and saw that Sir Zigvolt was close to tears, and you, with a smile, asked if he required a handkerchief. This just made a hint of a smile appear on his and Sir Silver’s face as he wiped away his tears. No matter how much pressure you were put under, you always managed to put your friends first as well as maintain a sense of humor.

Lilia rode up next to them and told them to straighten their posture. He was in his more mature form, taking you a bit by surprise. In all of the years you have known Lilia, you would never have described him as serious. But here he was, in his general’s formal attire, hair long and tied up in a ponytail, commanding a small battalion to trail behind you.

This was a bit much, wasn’t it?

Well, it was too late to ask, since now your handmaidens and manservants had taken their place right behind you and in front of the battalion. Then, the procession started. The castle gate rose to let you and your parade through, and all of the citizens of the town were making their way to the same meadow you were going to right now. All of the decorations upon the houses and stores were so beautiful up close, rather than when you saw them on a balcony.

Looking forward, you saw that you were coming upon the gates of the actual city where the castle resided. You forgot how big the entirety of Briar Valley was. It hit you extra hard when you realized that this meant that the lords and ladies would be there as well. Royalty, nobility, the gentry, and even the common folk. The entire land would be there and attending the festivities that would come after you and Malleus pricked your fingers.

On the side of the road, there was a little child who pulled at his mother’s skirt and pointed at you in amazement. You gave a small wave and he squealed in excitement, making you smile. But, you continued onward through the main street. It wasn’t too long before you reached the edge of the forest.

Inside the forest, there would be a green meadow where everything should be set up, aside from the spinning wheel. You’ve been there when you and Malleus were planning the wedding, and it was one of the few times you were actually able to see your fiancé. He looked very happy to hold you in his arms again… even if it was just for about five minutes.

Yeah, they were very strict on you both not seeing each other too much, as it could cause a distraction for either of you. You slept on entirely different ends of the castle just so the two of you wouldn’t be up to anything suspicious. However, you were able to dine with each other in the dining hall, as there were servants who were monitoring the both of you. It was very annoying, but once you and him were joined in matrimony, you would see each other much more.

The trees were beautiful, and covered with moss. The sun shone through the leaves in little patches of sunlight on the ground. Whenever you passed through the rays, it made you feel its warmth upon your skin. Seeing all of the green made you feel more and more excited about what was to come in a few short moments.

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

Malleus had to admit that he had never been more nervous than how he was now. He was standing, awaiting his fiancé at the altar. Everyone was making their way to their seats, excited for the reception after the ceremony. None of them could see how sweaty the prince’s hands had gotten in the short amount of time he had been there.

Perhaps you had second thoughts? It was understandable, considering this would be a huge responsibility placed on your shoulder as a magicless human, something you were kind of used to but also very tired of. But you expressed such excitement when he proposed to you, so that wouldn’t be very reasonable.

What if you were kidnapped or hurt on the way here? Oh, if something happened, someone would die. Whoever would have been audacious enough to rob him of his wedding day to his beloved would pay the hefty price. Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see his grandmother looking up at the sky to see a dark cloud that was forming. Malleus shook his head to snap out of it, when he heard the ‘all rise’.

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

You took a deep breath and stepped forward into the meadow from off of the path. The sun was shining bright, and you were fighting for your life to try and see where you were stepping. There were gasps as you got to the row furthest from the altar, which is when everyone stood up. The spinning wheel went first down the aisle and was placed on the left side of your groom. The wheel was followed by the groomsmen and bridesmaids.

Speaking of, your heart fluttered upon seeing Malleus waiting for you. You could feel yourself tearing up as the realization hit you once again: you were getting married. Suddenly, all of the eyes on you didn’t matter. All that mattered was Malleus, since you both would be bound together as one for all of eternity.

Then, you started walking down the aisle. More gasps sounded, and you laughed while tearing up even more. Your fiancé also started tearing up a bit, smiling. Queen Maleficia thought the scene was absolutely adorable, reminding her of her wedding to her husband oh-so-many years ago. She wished you both the same amount of happiness in your marriage that she had with her true love.

Once you made it to your spot at the altar, your very-soon-to-be-husband whispered to you that you looked like you were getting married, trying to distract you from the tears that were swelling up in his eyes. You giggled as you said that yeah, I’m getting married to you. His smile said a million more things than words ever could portray, and the officiant started performing the ceremony.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the joining of Crowned Prince Malleus Draconia to Y/N L/N, for the betterment not only of themselves but also for the Kingdom of Briar Valley. Now, without further ado, Your Royal Highness, if you wouldn’t mind taking off your gloves and pricking your finger upon the spinning wheel.”

You watched as the dragon fae removed his black gloves and leaned over to prick his finger. A spot of blood remained on both the wheel and his finger, and he brought his digit to his mouth to lick off the blood. He saw you watching him and gave you a wink.

“Y/N L/N, if you would please prick your finger now.”

Your hand was shaky as you reached it to the wheel. Memories of a certain film you watched in your childhood flashed in your mind, and you smiled as you recalled what happened to Princess Aurora when she pricked her finger. However, the two of you were living two completely different fairy tale lives. You see, your knight in shining armor was the dragon.

It brought a bit of a sting to your finger, but nothing absolutely painful. You also brought your finger to your mouth, before denying Malleus any look at you (with love, of course) as you turned back to the officiant.

To anyone else in the audience, you both were taking this relatively well for a couple who was about to be married. However, both your hearts were pounding against your chests. This was the most excited either of you have been, even more so than when Malleus first asked to court you and then proposed to you years later.

“This spinning wheel is magic, and it turns typical wool into gold. This is a metaphor for the memories you both will make from this point onward. Any injustices suffered before you pricked your fingers shall be washed away and never repeated as you go forward in your marriage and make golden memories. May your happiness and love be eternal.”

At this point, Sebek and Silver lifted up the spinning wheel and walked back down the aisle to load it on the wagon before going back to their spots behind Malleus. At this point, there were a few stray tears running down your face and your husband gently wiped them away. You then turned back to the officiant so that everything could be wrapped up.

“Now, you may kiss your spouse. Congratulations.”

Malleus wasted absolutely no time in dipping you down and kissing you with such burning passion, it left you breathless after. The fae folk and your former peers from NRC all cheered in absolute excitement before he pulled you back up and helped you stay balanced. Then, he offered you his arm for you to wrap your own around before he gently led you back down the aisle.

You were followed by a procession of people; Queen Maleficia was first behind the two of you, then the bridesmaids, and then the groomsmen. Everyone headed to the reception area, excited to dance, party, and eat. You were excited to have a dance with your new husband, and to see him dance with his grandmother. You would be dancing with Professor Crewel, since he was a close father figure to you.

However, once you reached the area, Malleus pulled you to the side to kiss you again. The excitement and pure adoration in his eyes made your heart melt, and you couldn’t help but kiss him back in return.

“My dear, I have waited many years for this. I’ve foreseen this once upon a dream, but I had no idea that it would come into fruition.”

“As have I, my love. Now, I believe everyone is waiting for us at the banquet table,” you giggled before you both made your way to your spots at the dining table.

#twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #malleus #malleus x reader #twst malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader #twst malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia

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sanguineterrain · 2 years

Text

Sweeter Than This

Summary: you and Steve take the gang apple picking.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: heavy dose of pining, kissing, the kids being little shits (affectionate), Steve being a dork!!! <3

Notes: first time writing for Steve Harrington! hope you guys enjoy this one. A reminder that Steve and the Reader are over 18 and that I imagine this taking place after S3.

divider by the wonderful s-tarksintern <3

The radio on your desk crackled briefly before a tinny voice rang through.

"Hello? Y/N?"

You pulled down your sweater, jumping up from the bed to answer. "Steve? Since when do you have a walkie?"

"Oh, I, uh, don't. This is Dustin's… we're, um, almost there. Nancy and Robin couldn't make it, so—"

Another voice interrupted. "Hi, Y/N!"

You smiled. "Hey, Dustin. Excited to go apple picking?"

"We all are!" he confirmed. "And my mom—keep your pants on, dude, you can talk to your girlfriend in a minute."

"She's not my girlfriend!" was Steve's instant reply, and you felt heat bloom up the back of your neck.

"Anyways," continued Dustin. "My mom said I could get a bag of their cider donuts. Isn't that awesome?"

"That's so awesome," you replied, genuinely excited. "I can't wait."

"Okay, come down! We're here."

You pushed the antenna down and grabbed your purse, flying down the stairs. You paused by the door, giving yourself a final onceover in the mirror before heading out. Steve was outside, leaned on the passenger side door of what looked to be the Wheelers' station wagon. He straightened as soon as you walked down the path. Dustin was next to him, waving.

"You can sit up front, Y/N," Dustin informed you cheerily.

"But won't you have to sit in the hatch?"

"It's cool," he shrugged, cheeks puffed into a grin. "You guys should sit up front together."

"O…kay. Thanks." You turned to Steve, crisp fall air sliding through your lungs. "Hi, Steve. Rockin' the Wagon, huh?"

"Unfortunately," he grimaced. "Nancy and Robin bailed, so Nance let me borrow her car to fit everybody."

"Bailed?" you wondered. “That doesn’t sound like them.”

He shook his head. "They both simultaneously came down with the flu, somehow. I think they're full of shit, personally, because Nance is religious when it comes to getting her vitamin C. She has, like, three oranges a day as soon as the temperature drops below sixty."

"Come on, all the good apples will be gone at this rate!" came from inside the car.

Steve rolled his eyes. You laughed, nudging his shoulder.

"Onwards, Harrington. The children have spoken."

"The children are brats."

But he got into the car. You did the same, turning your head to check that everyone was here. Max, Lucas, and Mike were in the backseat, while Dustin and Will had quietly accepted their fates in the hatchback.

"Seatbelts!" said Steve, and there were a few clicks.

"You too, Y/N," he added, lips quirked, and you pulled your belt across, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry. I ought to be a better role model, huh? Anybody want snacks? I have pretzels, kettle corn, graham crackers…"

"I'll take some pretzels."

"Kettle corn for the win!"

You passed out the snacks, taking care not to drop any when the car pulled away from the curb.

"Don't make a mess, we don't want to dirty up the Wheelers' car," you reminded.

"Hey!" Steve said, glaring at the rear view mirror. "I can literally see you guys throwing pretzels at each other. Cut it out."

"Yes, mom, yes, dad," mumbled Lucas, making all of them giggle.

Steve rolled his eyes. You cleared your throat.

"Steve, would you like a snack?"

He grinned, eyes bright and dark like mahogany.

"Sure, why not. What are my options here?"

"We've got Goldfish, trail mix, and grapes," you said, presenting the Ziplocs with a flourish.

"Oh, Goldfish, no doubt. Here." He took one hand off the steering wheel, tendons flexing as his left hand curved around the leather. His right hand reached towards you, and you opened the baggie, cupping it so it was easier for Steve to take the crackers. He glanced at you, swallowing.

"Thank you, Y/N. Guys, everybody say thank you."

"Thanks, Y/N!" chirped five adolescents.

"Anytime. Steve, you've got crumbs."

"Oh." He swiped at his mouth. "Good?"

"Not quite. Here—" you pulled up the sleeve of your sweater, gently brushing the corner of Steve's mouth.

He swallowed, the corner of his mouth tipping up. "Thanks."

You smiled, popping a grape into your mouth.

"Sure. So, Dustin," you started. "How big is the farm?"

"Four hundred acres. It's been around for almost two hundred years!"

"I hope they have apple taffy," said Mike.

"And pumpkins," added Lucas.

"Pumpkins aren't till next month, dude," Max corrected.

"They could have them!"

As the pumpkin debate continued, you glanced at Steve.

"Hey. Is that a new coat?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah. Bloomingdale's. Half off, actually."

"Wow," you said. "What a steal."

"I know, right? The inside is super soft. Here, feel."

You hesitated, eyes darting from the jacket to Steve. He was focused on the road, unaware of your hesitation.

"Okay," you murmured, touching the inside of the collar.

It was soft, thick like sheep's wool. You felt the heat from Steve's skin, see the summer freckles still prominent on his neck. The coat was big on him, making him look cozy. You forced your gaze away.

"It's nice," you said hoarsely, retracting. "Looks good on you, Harrington."

His answering grin was sunshine. Butterflies fluttered in your belly.

"Are we almost there?" asked Will.

"We've been driving for ten minutes," replied Steve. "Take a nap or something."

Will's face scrunched. "I'm too old for naps."

"After the year we've had? I don't think so."

To Steve's credit, Will and Lucas both ended up falling asleep in the hour drive it took to get to Berkshire Farms. Max quietly listened to her cassettes and Dustin and Mike occupied themselves with some game you were certain you wouldn't understand.

"Hey, Y/N?" Steve's voice was hushed.

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering, if, um… well, I know you're starting classes soon, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to, uh, do something."

"Do something?" you asked.

"Yeah. I mean, you'll be at school, but—"

"I'm only a half hour away," you reminded.

"No, yeah, right. And that's awesome, obviously. I'm… I'm glad you're so close. So, I thought we could, you know, do something together."

"See a movie?"

"Yeah, yeah. Like that. But…"

You turned your body all the way, facing him. Gravel crunched underneath the tires as you pulled into the parking lot of the farm. Steve's fingers drummed on the steering wheel. He didn't look at you.

"But what, Steve?" you prompted.

"We're here! Open, open, open!"

You blinked. Dustin jiggled the handles. Steve sighed, telling him to cut it out before unlocking the doors. You followed them out before they all scattered, corralling the group towards the booth to get bags for apple-picking.

"Everybody take a bag," you directed. "No pushing! Guys, come on. Okay, where do we want to go first? How about the golden delicious?"

"My mom wants me to get pink gala," said Mike. "I'll meet you after."

The others echoed similar sentiments.

"Wait—guys, I thought we were going to pick apples together. You're going to leave me by myself?" you frowned.

They exchanged looks before Lucas spoke up. "You won't be alone, Y/N. You'll be with Steve."

"Yeah, Steve's cool," said Dustin. “Don’t you think he’s cool?”

“Well, yeah, of course I like Steve, but—”

"He'll carry your apples for you!" he added and nudged Max, who nodded emphatically.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Uh, Steve's great. You guys would be great… picking apples together."

They stared at you with wide eyes, a few shifting their weight. You relaxed into a smile, finally understanding.

"Okay, okay. You guys want to spend time together before school starts, huh? I get it, we're old and we cramp your style."

"No—" started Will, but was effectively cut off with an elbow from Mike. "Ow, what the hell!"

"That's exactly it, Y/N," said Dustin. "Yeah, whew, we didn't wanna say anything, but we need to go over some plans for high school, you know? I mean, we're gonna be freshmen. It's a big deal."

"What's a big deal?" Steve asked, two apple bags tucked under his arm.

"Nothing. High school stuff. Anyway, we're gonna go pick our own apples. We have walkies," Dustin said, shaking his own radio. "Here, take this one."

He tossed Mike's walkie to Steve, who caught it with one hand. "Whoa, you're ditching us? Come on, guys, Y/N really wanted this to be a thing we did together."

"Steve, it's okay," you soothed, patting his arm. "They want to hang out. We're old and they have important teen matters to address."

"I'm not old!" Steve insisted. His eyes narrowed at Dustin, who was the picture of innocence. "What are you planning?"

"We're not planning anything, Steve. Is it so wrong if we split up for a bit and meet back for lunch?"

They were all beginning to back away. You shook your head fondly.

"Go ahead. Keep your walkies on, though. Will, watch out for bees!"

"'Kay! See ya! Have fun."

They scattered into the orchard, disappearing among the rows of apples. You turned to Steve, who had his arms crossed.

"Those little assholes," he muttered. "You're way too soft on them."

"Aw, they're kids. Besides, I knew they'd want to do their own thing at some point. They should have fun, you know?"

You bumped Steve’s shoulder, not wanting him to be truly upset with them. He sighed, melting.

"Yeah, okay. Guess they deserve it." He took the bags from under his arm. "So where do you wanna start? Golden delicious, right? For the pies?"

You blinked. You'd mentioned making pies for Mrs. Sinclair's bake sale weeks ago.

"You remembered."

"Well, yeah. Your pies are, like, the best thing there."

"Oh, so you only remembered to get free pie, huh?"

Steve's grin was boyish. "Maybe I'm just really dedicated to the Hawkins bake sale."

"Wow, well, good to know where your loyalties lie, Steve," you sighed dramatically. "But if you can be bought with free pie, I guess I'll make the most of it."

You stepped forward and picked a few apples, dropping them ceremoniously into the bag. Steve gently coaxed it out of your grip, dutifully holding it open as you snaked down the aisles.

"Hey, so… that thing I mentioned," he began as you prowled for good apples. "In the car. About us going somewhere?"

"Oh, right! What were you thinking? My school will probably have sports rallies and stuff. We could go to one of those together? Maybe with the others?"

"We could," Steve said weakly. He scratched the back of his neck. "But I was thinking, actually…"

"Steve—I'm sorry, keep talking—but can you get that apple up there for me? On the top branch."

"Sure, sure." Steve reached up, his arm longer than yours, and he plucked the apple from the tree, dropping it into the bag. You nodded, satisfied.

"Good. I think we've got enough. Let's go to the granny smiths next."

You headed down the path, watching for the little signs tied to stakes in front of the trees.

"So, Y/N? What I was saying before."

"Oh my God, yeah, go ahead. Sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off," you said. "So what did you mean?"

"Like, uh… shit." Steve chuckled slightly, cheeks red. "Damn, I used to be good at this."

"Good at what?"

“I, um…”

You were closer now, having entered Steve’s space to pick a pair of bright green apples. He opened the bag for you, never looking away.

“Hey, lovebirds! You there?”

The crackle of the walkie startled you apart. Steve fumbled to dig it out, pressing the button.

“What is it, Dustin?” he answered impatiently.

“Okay, okay, sheesh. We were wondering if you and Y/N are done, ‘cause we’re hungry.”

“I could eat,” you said. “Steve?”

“Sure,” he sighed. “We’ll meet you guys at the car.”

It wasn’t far to the parking lot. Steve carried your apples for you, despite your insistence you could carry a bag. You went to pay for your bags while he went to the car so the kids could get their lunches. You bought a pint of cider to share, smiling when Lucas lit up at the sight.

“Yes!” he said, pumping his fist. “Their cider is awesome.”

You unpacked your lunch—chicken salad—and dug in. Soon, everyone was eating… except Steve. Of course, you noticed immediately.

“Where’s your food, Steve?” you asked.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t bring any. I’m good, you know, I’ll eat tonight.”

Your mouth drew into a pout. “Steve, you should eat.”

“Y/N, it’s okay, really.”

“Dude, you activated her mother hen mode,” Max sighed.

You pulled out a second chicken salad sandwich, sliding it to him. “Here. Take it.”

“No, Y/N, I don’t wanna take your food—”

“You’re not,” you shrugged. “I packed extra just in case. Eat, Stevie, please.”

Steve relented, unwrapping the foil. You beamed, satisfied, and returned to your own food.

“After this, we should look at pumpkins,” announced Lucas.

“It’s not even October. They don’t have freaking pumpkins, man,” Mike sighed.

“Here we go again,” groaned Max.

“There are other fruits,” you offered, but they weren’t listening.

They started roughhousing then, and you reached to pull the food away from the edge.

“Guys, stop,” Steve said. “You’re too close to the table, it’s gonna—”

Someone bumped into the corner. The cider toppled.

“—spill.”

You hissed at the cold, standing. Eighty percent of the cider ended up on your sweater. The other twenty pooled on the ground in a sugary puddle.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” rushed out Mike.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Lucas winced.

“It’s okay,” you sighed, quickly wiggling out of your sweater before the liquid soaked through. “It’ll wash out.”

You grabbed a wad of napkins, patting your sweater. The cider had already begun to set, and you soon gave up, carefully rolling it into a ball. A particularly chilly breeze cut through and you shivered. That’s when you felt something soft being draped over your shoulders.

“Hold on, I think I have a scarf too,” Steve said, standing before you could protest.

You snuggled into his coat, pulling it around your arms. The kids stared at you, all with secretive smiles.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Dustin said in a voice that made it clear it was something.

Steve returned shortly with a knitted heather gray scarf.

“Won’t you be cold?” you asked.

“I’m okay. Still got my sweater,” he said, gesturing to his yellow pullover.

“Alright, but if you feel cold…”

“I won’t,” Steve laughed. “Promise.”

Your last stop, minus the pumpkins (which were not yet in season, much to Lucas’ dismay), was the gift shop. Will and Max made a beeline for the apple cider donuts. The others were fascinated by the apple-themed trinkets. You particularly were taken by the hand-knitted tea cozies.

“What do you think?” came Steve’s voice from beside you. He held up an enamel pin that said apple-y ever after. “Is this a babe magnet or what?”

You snorted. “Without a doubt. Girls love apple puns.”

“Yeah?” he grinned.

“Mmhm. I do, at least.”

You felt Steve’s eyes on you as you continued looking through the cozies. You held up another with a turkey on it.

“Hey, this reminds me,” you started. "My mom said you could come over for Thanksgiving. If you want. I don't know if you have plans, or…"

"I don't," Steve said. "My folks aren't, uh, much for family dinners.”

"Well, you're always welcome to ours. And I thought maybe it could be fun! I asked Robin and she said she might make it too, so…”

Steve smiled, nodding. "I’d like that. Jesus, wow."

"What?"

"Times like these, I'm, um—I’m really glad I pulled my head out of my ass.” Steve shyly ran a hand through his hair. “God, you probably couldn't stand me back then. I'm happy we met, despite the circumstances. You're the best thing in my life, Y/N."

"Oh," you said, overwhelmed. "Steve, I—well, that's not true. You had Nancy. Have Nancy." Their history was one you were well acquainted with.

Steve shook his head. "No. 'S not the same. She's great, don't get me wrong, but you're… it's like apples and oranges."

“Hmm?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, voice a whisper. “And I, uh… I really like apples.”

Your eyes darted to his lips. Steve watched them do so.

“Y/N! Can I get this? Suzie wants to try this science thing from camp.”

Dustin held up a lighter with tiny apples on it.

“Um, no, you may not,” you scoffed. “Your mom would kill us if you brought that home.”

“She won’t see it! I swear, I’ll be super cautious.”

“No,” you and Steve answered at the same time.

Dustin pouted, disappearing to put it away.

“These kids,” Steve mumbled, hands on his hips.

You hid a smile behind the tea cozy, scooting closer to him.

“Hey. You cold?” he asked.

“Kinda. There’s a draft,” you lied. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, putting an arm around your shoulders. “It’s okay.”

The car ride home was quieter, apple-picking having effectively worn everybody out. Huey Lewis sang about the power of love, only slightly muted from how old the car’s radio was. Steve had fastened the apple-y ever after pin to the collar of his sweater. You smiled every time your gaze fell on it.

You dropped Max off first, then Lucas, then Mike and Will, who were having a sleepover. Dustin was the last, living the closest to your house. He gave a little wave and a thumbs-up before racing up the steps. Eventually, you were in front of your house. Steve parked and got out for you, carrying your bags of apples to your doorstep.

“Thank you,” you grinned. “Again. You’ve been a huge help today, Steve.”

“Oh, well, y’know, gotta have somebody to tag-team those rascals.”

“You were great. You’re always great,” you added, heart thumping.

Steve’s expression was soft, eyes warm. “I had a lot of fun, Y/N.”

“Me too! I love hanging out with you.”

You stared at each other for a long moment before you turned abruptly, fidgeting with your house keys.

“Um, okay, well, I’m gonna head in. Oh! Crap, your coat. And your scarf. Uh—”

You dropped your keys and winced. Steve slowly retrieved them as you shrugged off his jacket and unraveled the scarf. As soon as he straightened, you tossed them over his head like he was an unsightly lamp.

“Shit! Sorry.” Pull it together, Y/N.

Steve’s shoulders were shaking as he bit his cheek to restrain his laughter. That got you giggling, and soon you were both breathless, snorting and wheezing. He pulled the coat off his head, tucking it under his arm. You couldn’t help another giggle at the flyaway hairs from the static.

“Here, lemme just—” you gently flattened Steve’s hair, hand lingering down his arm and finally falling back to your side.

His smile was fond. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Wouldn’t want you coming across any groovy chicks with hair out of place.”

“Groovy?” he teased.

“What! People say groovy,” you defended.

“Nobody under forty.”

“That does it,” you decided. “No free pie for you, Steve Harrington.”

“Aw, come on! Alright, how ‘bout this: we can bring groovy back. You’ll make it popular again.”

“Hm. Okay, fair enough. I’ll save you a pie.”

“Groovy,” he grinned, handing you your keys.

You snorted, turning and picking up your bags, struggling only for a moment before you got the door open. Steve kept a hand on the door so you could get inside and put the bags down.

“Okay. Good. Good stuff. So, uh…”

“Y/N?”

You turned back around. “Yeah—yes, Steve?”

Steve was close, closer than he’d been all day. Your heartbeat picked up as he leaned in, hand coming up to cup your face. You both paused, waiting.

“Can I–?”

You nodded, eyes already fluttering shut. Steve tasted like sugar and cider. Your hands curled into his hair, nose pressing into his cheek. His lips were soft, a little cold from the weather. You could feel his body heat through his sweater and you tugged him in.

The door hitting your butt made you flinch. Steve pulled back, concerned.

“Door,” you chuckled breathlessly, hands resting on the nape of his neck.

“Oh,” he said, thumb brushing your cheek.

“So…”

“So,” Steve echoed. “Was that, uh, okay?”

“More than okay. Really, really great, actually.”

“I can’t take all the credit,” he shrugged. “I am wearing the pin.”

“Oh, I see,” you grinned. “Well, what do you and your pin say to coming over Saturday and helping me make pies?”

“We would enjoy that very much, but I should warn you I’m incredibly accident-prone in the kitchen.”

“That’s alright,” you said slyly.

His lips were pink and slightly swollen. You felt excitement curl in your belly at the prospect of getting to kiss Steve Harrington again and again. You drew him in, lips resting on his.

“You can be the taste-tester.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #apple picking #stranger things #steve harrington

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thestartax · 3 months

Text

Eren Jaeger x Reader

Synopsis: You get injured attempting to help Eren

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, shared bed, nightmare comfort, found family (obviously with the others)

"That was one of the more stupid things I've seen you do," Levi comments idly as Hange lifts you into their arms and lays you in the wagon.

You wince and hold your arm, “I’ll say.”

"I thought it was very brave," Hange tries to reassure you.

Levi looks as bored as always when he says, "Make sure Eren stays in his titan form. We can't afford for him to bow out of the fight now just because he saw his little friend get hurt."

You lower your eyebrows in confusions. "Wh—" you gasp at a sharp pain in your arm but continue, "why would he stop fighting? He knows how important this is."

Hange and Levi share a look you don't understand, whether it be because of the pain or simply something you can't decode—you're unsure.

"You should wheel y/n to a scout we can trust. Eren needs all the motivation he can get. No need to risk cutting any loose," Levi says to Hange.

Hange nods. After they pick up the handles of the wagon and start to cart you away they look over their shoulder with a sly smirk and say, "You sound more like a commander than I do."

Levi looks at them for a moment before looking away and shaking his head, "Just go."

"Yes, sir," Hange teases before actually doing as he says.

As they carry you through the ruined town you can't help but start to ask a stupid and sort of selfish question, "How... how long do you think...”

Hange looks over their shoulder at you with a small, knowing smile. "How long before we might be able to get you back to the base and get you patched up? How long until this fighting might be done?"

You nod, feeling mildly ashamed and embarrassed.

Hange continues walking. "Not too much longer now, should we all make it out, and by some people's standards... win—if you could even call it that."

"Would you call it that?" You ask without thinking.

Hange shrugs. "What constitutes winning?"

You think for a long time—fighting through your pain to form a proper thought. "Being able to go home to the people you love and be proud of yourself."

Hange nods. "Well... are you proud of yourself?"

You scoff. "I'm being carted around in a wagon by someone who's well over qualified to be doing it. But... I guess... I guess l'm proud of killing that titan…”

"The one going for Eren?" Hange guesses. You nod, they can't see you but they know they're right. "Even if Levi thinks it was stupid... and most of the others probably do... I think it was noble."

You blush a little. "Wasn't trying to be noble."

“What were you trying to be then?" Hange asks.

"I was just trying to help Eren," you say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

"Eren was in his titan form. He could've handled it," Hange reasons.

You frown. "He didn't see it coming. It was nearly the size of him. It could've caught him off guard, it could've—"

"So you stepped in," Hange offers.

You nod firmly. "So I stepped in."

"And nearly got your arm taken off." Hange reminds you.

You go red in the face again. “A minor set back.”

Hange laughs. "Yeah, a minor set back that nearly got you and Eren killed."

You're confused again. "How did that nearly get Eren killed? He turned as soon as he heard the titan get ahold of me. He took it down in seconds."

"And was nearly over run by the other titans while he sat you on the wall," Hange counters.

You frown and your eyebrows lower again. "I guess I didn't notice that part."

Hange nods their head from side to side. "You wouldn't have. You lost a lot of blood real fast before Levi found you and wrapped that arm. You're probably going to lose consciousness here soon."

You gulp. "Is this a lose consciousness and never wake up kind of nap or..?”

Hange shakes their head. "Shouldn't be. More like a lose consciousness and stay down for a few days kind of nap—so long as someone survives long enough to get you back to a medic!"

You nod, not all that reassured but unwilling to admit that. "Who are you going to leave me with?"

"A new recruit. He just switched from the MP's. Name's Marlo. He's scared out of his mind right now but he passed Jean and Levi's tests so he'll get the job done," Hange explains.

You nod again.

After a little while longer Hange puts you in an abandoned house on the outskirts of the destroyed town and promises to return with Marlo. You don't actually see anyone make it back to you because you finally fall unconscious when the pain becomes too unbearable after the adrenaline wears off.

When you open your eyes next, you're in the infirmary. You look down at your bandaged arm in a sling, happy to still have it. You look around the room and see two or three other people still in beds, asleep. A doctor is walking away from you so you assume that's what finally woke you up.

The only other thing you notice is a weight on both of your hands and one, much heavier, weight on your legs. You look down as see Armin holding on of your hands between both of his with his legs pulled up to his chest and his head laying on them while he sleeps. Mikasa is laying her head on her crossed arms on your legs. Your other hand is being held tightly in one of Eren’s while his other arm lays across your waist and his head lays on your gut, facing you.

You shift a little so you’re sitting up. Immediately Mikasa wakes and sits upright. She smiles a small smile when you make eye contact.

“Happy to see you awake, y/n,” Mikasa says warmly.

“How long have I been asleep?” You whisper, not wanting to wake the two boys at your sides.

“Just about three days,” Mikasa answers.

“Three days?” You exclaim and then quickly slap a hand over your mouth.

Armin yawns and sits up slowly. He rubs his eyes and smiles at you. “Y/n! How are you? Are you in pain?”

You stop and focus on your arm. It’s a dull pain but shockingly less than before. Whatever they have on this wrap if very helpful.

You shrug. “It’s not too bad.” You shake your head. “Enough about me, what happened? Did we win? Did anyone… die?”

Armin shakes his head quickly. “Noone since before you left the fight. We all made it out. I’d… I’d say we won.”

You relax into the bed and nod. “Okay. Good. That’s… good. That’s great.”

There is a comfortable pause. You think it’s so quiet because your friends are letting you adjust to your surroundings and really take in that everyone is safe and whole. Really, it’s because they’re both trying to figure out how to tell you…

“Eren’s been pretty antsy these past few days,” Armin tries to say casually.

Your eyes snap open. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Mikasa and Armin exchange a look, another that you cannot seem to understand.

“You’ve been down for days now, don’t you remember?” Armin asked, nervous that you’d hit your head after all.

You nod quickly. “I know but why would that make Eren antsy?”

Mikasa narrows her eyes and titles her head slightly to the side. Armin smiles sympathetically. You look between them, still confused.

“Y/n, Eren has been worried about you. He hasn’t left your side. The only reason he is not awake right now is because he’s slept, maybe, twenty-four hours in three days,” Mikasa explains.

When your jaw drops Armin adds, “Recently, there was a bit of talk about the possibility of you not waking up if you were unconscious for much longer…”

You stare at them with wide eyes. Slowly you look down at the boy who’s head is on your gut. “Oh, Eren…”

At the sound of you saying his name he slowly stirs. For a moment his eyes flutter open and your eyes meet and he just smiles. Then, it’s like he remembers everything all at once. He jumps up and tosses your hand away—only to take it back a second later.

In mere moments he’s sitting on the edge of the cot and gently taking your bad arm in his hand slowly extending it in different directions to see if you bled through the bandage. Then he’s taking your face in his free hand and using it to tilt and maneuver your head around so he can examine it better to see if you really did acquire a head injury (as if the doctors or captains wouldn’t have noticed). He holds your hand all the while.

Once he seems satisfied with his inspection of your health he just looks at you for a moment longer. He slouches a little in his spot on the edge of your bed. He holds your hand between both of his and just looks at you. It’s like he’s trying to memorize your face. He has this gentle look on his face.

Then, as quickly as it came it goes.

He’s angry very, very fast.

He drops your hand and stands.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snaps. “Why the fuck couldn’t you just stay with the rest of the unit? Why would you put yourself in the direct line of fire? Did you want to test my reflexes? See how fast I can be? Was it Hange’s idea? To make you bait? That’s a low fucking blow, even for them. I’ve been very understanding about their research but if they fucking—“

You shake your head the entire time he speaks but that doesn’t do much to shut him up so you just shout, “Eren!”

His jaw snaps shut and he looks down at you from where he stands. He’s shaking with anger, his face is red, he’s breathing heavily—but he’s quiet.

“Will you sit?” You ask quietly.

He hesitates but he does as you ask.

You let out a short breath of relief before you start explaining, “Hange had nothing to do with my, as it’s been continuously called, stupid decision. They had nothing to do with it. No one did. No one knew what I was going to do. Not even me. I didn’t plan it, it wasn’t premeditated. It was just something I did. I saw, what I presumed to be, you in danger and I reacted. That was it. I couldn’t let you get hurt so I did what I thought would help. That’s what happened.”

“But you could’ve died! You came pretty fucking close!” He snaps again.

“I’m keenly aware, thank you,” you deadpan.

“So why would you do it? You can’t say it was to protect me because why would you risk your life just for that?” He asks.

“Like I said, it was like an instinct.” You shrug. “Besides, we all risk our lives for each other, even when it’s against our better judgement, all the time. What’s so special about this time?”

“You can’t just put your life on the line on a whim!” Eren shouts.

You startle backward in confusion. “It’s like you didn’t hear anything I just said.”

“Never do that again. Never. Do not risk your life for me. That’s fucking stupid,” Eren says seriously.

You scoff in disbelief and look to Armin and Mikasa to see if they are also acknowledging how hypocritical and crazy Eren sounds. They both avoid your eyes. Mikasa looks at the ground while Armin stairs at the ceiling like words of encouragement from Erwin are written on it.

“Eren, you are being the biggest hypocrite of all time right now. That doesn’t even make sense! Everyone can risk their lives for everyone but I can’t? How does that make sense! I’m fine! I made it! I’m okay! So what’s the problem?” You shout.

“The problem is that if you died out there, especially for something as fucking stupid as protecting me, I would never forgive myself! I would never forgive the world! It’s already taken so much from me! How could you possibly be willing to let it take more!” He seethes.

“Your life is worth so much! If I died to keep you safe I will have done my due diligence! If you died when I could’ve prevented it it would have been the most disgusting injustice the world ever faced, to have this world without you in it!” You counter just as loudly.

“You are worth 12 of me!” Eren continues.

“And you are worth double for every person on this expanse of the world!” You argue.

The room falls deadly silent. No one moves. No one breathes. Nothing happens for a long time.

Eren still shakes with rage. You pant with your own. Your arm aches suddenly. Armin and Mikasa have gotten closer together and seem to be attempting at an exit.

After a few moments longer, Armin gently squeezes your arm and you pretend it doesn’t hurt. He smiles warmly. “We’ll let you rest, y/n. See you soon, I’m sure.”

“We’ll let everyone know to visit you tomorrow. It’s late,” Mikasa says, to which you’re eternally grateful.

You nod and smile at them the best you can. “Thanks, guys. See you.”

They both leave very quickly, only sparing Eren a quick glance.

There is only silence for a long time. You won’t look at each other. Neither of you wants to be the first one to give.

He eventually sits in the chair next to your bed again. He holds up his head with his hand, shielding his face with said hand. This makes you feel safe enough to spare him a glance. He looks disheveled and distressed.

Shockingly, it is him who breaks. “You can’t…” he swallows thickly, “you can’t be careless with your life. Not for me or anyone.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” you counter sharply.

“I’m asking,” he says simply. “I’m asking you to care about yourself. To make yourself a priority. Be selfish.”

You shake your head. “That’s… that’s wrong. If everyone did that there’d be no Survey Corps. There would be so much fighting. It would be—“

“I’m not asking everyone else to be selfish, I’m asking you,” Eren cuts you off.

“Eren…” you shake your head again. “That’s… that’s…”

“Selfish and terrible. I know. But I’m asking anyway,” he looks up at you. You don’t think he’s ever looked so drained.

You lower your eyebrows in confusion but also worry. “Eren, are you okay?”

“Will you be selfish and terrible?” He ignores you.

“Eren—“ You start again.

“Will you?” He asks.

“Will you be selfish and terrible with me?” You snap.

He startles backward a little. “What?”

You sit up straighter. “Why should I sit out of the fight, off in safety, while you go and fight?”

He seems momentarily speechless.

“And don’t bring up your titan form. Mikasa could take out just as many titans as you in the same amount of time as you. Captain Levi could take out more. So don’t,” you say quickly.

He sighs. “Why is everything a fight with you? Why are you so stubborn?”

You choke on a laugh. “Me? I’m the stubborn one?”

He smiles and lets out a small chuckle.

You resolve dies in an instant. It’s like you were never angry, like you’ve never been angry once before. The boiling hot rage dissolves into a soft warmth that worms its way to your heart.

“Maybe I’m a little stubborn, too…” Eren admits almost sheepishly.

You scoff. “Yeah, like a bull.”

He laughs. Then, after a moment his face twists into confusion. He seems hesitant but clears his throat and slowly asks, “…What’s a bull?’

You immediately shake your head with wide eyes and laugh, “I have no idea! I think I heard Armin say it once!”

He laughs much louder now. You laugh for a long time. You both almost forget. Neither of you do.

When Eren stands you can’t ignore the way your heart all but jumps to your throat.

Hesitantly he says, “It’s late. I should let you sleep. I’ve been here for ages anyway, I’m sure the doctors are sick of me.”

You try to smile at his joke but it falls flat. You’re nearly sweating by now. Since the moment you saw that titan approach Eren from behind you’ve been in protective mode. The only thing on your mind was him, even while you slept you dreamt of him. You had nightmares of him leaving your sight for only a second and then dying as soon as you looked back. The idea of him leaving for the entire night brings a new wave of panic over you.

As he starts to grab his cloak off of his chair you quickly say, “Eren!”

He turns to look at you immediately. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You clear your throat and try again at a smile. “What if you— um… what if you just… stayed? Why don’t you— why not stay? It’s um… its late, like you said. Why head all the way back to the barracks. It’s ages away from here. Why not just… um… just stay?”

He says nothing while you fumble around for the right words. He only watches and does his best to keep a straight face. Really, internally, he’s thankful and reeling with relief. He had no desire to leave your side now. He’d been with you since the moment he could be—he wasn’t all that eager to part ways now.

When you finally stop and stare at him with a red face, glassy eyes, and shakey hands he pauses before nodding. He drops his cloak back onto the back of the chair and pushes it back out.

You feel this cold wave of relief wash over you that’s so strong it makes you lay your head down and close your eyes as you take a deep breath. “Thanks,” you mumble.

He doesn’t say anything about that and just asks, “Do you want anything? Food? Water?”

You shake your head and you go to say ‘no’ but for some reason you mouth gets ahead of your brain and can’t stop itself before saying, “No, just you.”

Eren had already turned to get water when he heard what you said, it makes him stop dead in his tracks. You smack a hand over your mouth and your face feels hot. He just stands there for a long time before walking away.

You think, vaguely, that he might not come back—just fetch his cloak when you fall asleep, but you know Eren better than that.

When he returns he offers you the cup of water he’s clearly been sipping on the way back from fetching and even though you rejected it before you gladly take a drink of it now. Eren knows you well.

“Have you slept in that chair for all three of the days I was out? Or did you sleep in your on bed for at least one of them?” You ask, trying desperately to keep him distracted.

He shakes his head. “No, I stayed here the whole time. I never left.”

You swallow thickly and nod. “…Okay. Well,” and for some reason you decide that you’ve already dug yourself so deep so why not go deeper, “I’m sure that’s uncomfortable and I mean… you’re staying another night, per my request, so um… I just— I wouldn’t want you to… to have to sleep all hunched over again… so um…” you clear your throat and refuse to look at him. “You could always sleep up here. If you, um, if you wanted.”

There is a long silence—or maybe it isn’t so long, it just feels that way to you.

When you finally look up at him he’s taking off his over shirt and kicking off his shoes. “Would you uh… would that make you feel safer?”

You clench your jaw and swallow your embarrassment enough to be honest and nod.

He nods too before climbing into the bed next to you. You throw the blanket out of the way to let him crawl under it and he does. It’s not the largest cot so you’re shoulder to shoulder—thankfully on the side of your good arm.

Shockingly, even though you’ve been unconscious for days, you’re tired. It’s likely all the energy excursion after having used none for days.

So you just roll onto your side, facing away from him and lift your arm up so you don’t crush it. “Thank you, Eren.”

“Anytime, y/n,” he says quickly.

You fall asleep quickly but it feels like you’re instantly met with a nightmare. Another of Eren being violently attacked. The two of you are running through the woods from titans but without ODM gear. You look behind you to try to spot the titans and see how far away they are for just a moment. As soon as you look back you see a titan cut in font of you and grab Eren.

Just before it can lift him to it’s mouth you’re being shaken. You wake in a cold sweat, panting, and with wide eyes. You grab tightly onto the figure in front of you, sitting up very quickly.

You look up and see Eren and relief washes over you instantaneously. “Oh, Eren…” you breath.

“Nightmare,” he acknowledges.

You nod. “Yeah… but,” you catch your breath, “you got me out before it got to the awful part.”

He nods too. “Yeah, I’ve gotten good at that.”

You run a hand through your hair to push it out of your face and look up at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “You’ve had a lot of nightmares the last couple of days, even while unconscious. We couldn’t figure out what it was at first. The first times were the worst. The most you’d say was… well… my name.”

You nod, too confused to be embarrassed. “Yeah, my nightmares are usually about you getting hurt or killed.”

He nods too. “I assumed as much. It was like if I could catch you before you got too far into it and you heard my voice you’d settle down again. It was hard to catch the signs fast enough at first but I figured it out. I’m just happy it worked even when you were conscious.”

“It definitely did,” you sigh. “Thank you, again.”

He shakes his head. “It’s no problem.”

You think about arguing that but decide against it. Instead you just lay back down. He follows right after you.

This time, you lay facing him and he does the same. You lay together with your faces inches apart. You can feel his breath on your face, warm and constant—it’s very grounding.

The silence is comfortable and it feels like it could go on forever, like it could lay over the expanse of the night.

Again, just as shockingly, it is Eren who breaks it.

So quietly, just barely audible, “Hi.”

You smile because it feels so juvenile, so secretive and small. “Hi.”

He looks over your entire face. He reaches out and so gently moves your hair from the side of your face and pushes it back to join the rest of your hair. “You’re so beautiful… like the sea.”

Your face heats up and it feels like you’re the only two in the world. “Would it scare you away if I said that I jumped in to help you because… because I love you?”

You think, at first, that he doesn’t hear you; because you said it so quietly but also because, for a short moment, he doesn’t react at all.

Then, very suddenly he pulls you to him. He holds you against his chest. His kisses the top of your head and just holds you.

For a long time, you lay there like that, wrapped in his arms, clinging to him like he’s the only thing tethering you to this earthly world.

Eventually, he says, “I love you. I love you. I love you,” over and over again like a chant—like a prayer.

#eren jaeger #eren aot #eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x you #attack on titan #hurt/comfort #bed sharing #nightmare comfort

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 1 year

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You're Ignorant

This is going to be a lengthy post. Or I will manage to short form this.

So it does not matter if you are on the left or on the right in the United States. However, over the past 15 years, the prominence of this problem seems to happen far more frequently with those that vote for Democrats. IT DOES happen with republicans, but it's not as frequent or with the same fervor.

So public perception of Bills that go through the senate and the house is normally based on the name, or what the people putting the bill out tell you that it does. However since around the time of the Obama admin, bill drafted by democrats have been getting longer and longer and longer, so much so that they are massive enough to be wheeled out on a little red wagon.

Bills that are quite literally 100's if not 1000's of pages long. The reason people that are "Blue no matter who" voters actually piss me off is because they don't care if the bill actually kills people so long as the NAME is good. To paraphrase someone from a different post when this topic came up. "A bill could come out called the "Don't kick puppies act". And when it goes through the legislative, some republicans will vote against it, and then Democrats and the media will come out saying 'X amount of republicans want to kick puppies'. What they don't tell you is that on line 2 of the bill, it says it will send 2 billion dollars to Brazil to teach gay dance theory."

And that's the point. It's not about what the bill is called. It's not about what they WANT the bill to do. It is about what the bill will ACTUALLY do. What does it say? What are the legal implications? Does the legal jargon of the bill do something other than what is specified in bill? But it gets a little worse than that with all of this. Politicians lie. Not only do they tend to lie, they normally do it by misrepresenting intent. This can be seen with both parties as well but happens far more often with people that vote democrat because they are far easier to manipulate.

Take the "Don't say gay bill". It literally had nothing to do with talking about gay stuff. What it did disallow was talking about sexual identity and sexual orientation as a class discussion or part of a curriculum. Funny enough that also includes talking about being strait as a point of class discussion, or curriculum. People kept talking about use of pronouns but that had really nothing to do with the bill. What the bill was actually even created for was because a teacher, behind the back of the parents of the kid, started to transition a kid, after convincing the kid that she was trans. During the process, the kid was not getting mental or emotional health help at all. The teacher helped the kid get on hormones I believe and was aiming to find a way to help with surgeries but the teen girl tried to kill herself. After the parents found out what happened, they removed the kid from the school and started getting her mental health help.

After she started getting the help that she needed she pretty much came to realize that it was just a combination of (initially) mild depression, pressure from her peers and, pushing from the teaching and administrative staff that convinced her she was trans.

So yeah. THE BILL IN QUESTION called the "Parental Rights in Education Bill", had nothing to do with "Not saying gay". Hell the bill did not even stop kids from talking to teachers or counselors about being gay in private. IT DID however stop them from hiding important things about their kids from parents.

Fact of the matter is, just because a name of something is good, does not in any way imply that is good. Just because the democrats LIE and say that something "should be called" something, does not mean that it is. Or we can talk about the Restrict act. Which YES was the spawn of certain Republican lawmakers but had some support from the democrats as a Patriot Act 2.0. Ya know another bill that would strip more freedoms from us and remove more of our privacy. All under the guise of "Banning TikTok". Which I agree with only the ban.

Mostly because the app is a spyware app, that is causing legitimate mental illness in today's youth. That and the algorithm used for the US's version of the app is actually pretty damaging over all to people. More so with the sensationalism it tends to spread.

Long story short. If your preferred reps push a bill over 100 pages long, you MIGHT want to believe that you are being lied to about its contents. Or understand that what you are being told about it is not the whole truth.

Because fact of the matter is this. You might think Democrats have your best interest in mind and every bad thing is the fault of the "EVIL MAGA REPUBLIANS", but look at California and New York. Rampant homelessness. Removal of several safety offices. Policies that claim to help minority communities but hurt them more and more every day. And excess spending and misappropriation of funds. And both of these states have been under full rule of Dems for YEARS. Meaning that ZERO republican influence makes their laws. HELL, California I believe tried to remove their own discrimination laws so that companies in the state COULD IN FACT discriminate in hiring practices.

It's time you start looking past the names of things, and start look at intent. You start looking at effects. You start looking at the results of. Get your heads out of the sand, and stop being ignorant. Your pursuit of "doing good" "being inclusive" "spreading diversity" yeah all of that is normally damaged more and more every day by people like you because the Dems and Reps (at least 90% of them) don't give a shit about you and only make you believe that they do.

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haveyouheardthisband · 3 months

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#Old-Time #Americana #Bluegrass #Alt-Country #Country #Progressive Bluegrass #2000s #2010s #USA #poll #Spotify

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 4 months

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Oldsmobile’s Experimental ’66 Toronado Station Wagon

What if Oldsmobile produced a Toronado station wagon? General Motors was intrigued enough by the idea to build a prototype or two.

It’s only natural that General Motors and its Oldsmobile division would seek out additional applications for the advanced front-wheel drive unit designed for the 1966 Toronado. Known internally at GM as the Unitized Power Package or UPP, the powertrain module was a tidy, versatile package, and surely a bundle had been invested in its development. The next application following the Toronado, of course, was the 1967 Cadillac Eldorado. And since one great benefit of the UPP front-drive system was that it allowed a low, flat floor, another use that easily came to mind was a station wagon.

By March of 1966, the GM design had a full-sized studio model ready for display at the Tech Center’s styling court (above). As we can see, this was essentially a European-style shooting brake adaptation of the production Toronado coupe. Sporty, yes, but the two-door wagon didn’t offer much more in the way of useful interior volume over the standard Toronado.

Taking a more practical approach, GM built a full-sized, four-door wagon prototype using the Toronado drive unit and front-end sheet metal. But at the time, Oldsmobile didn’t offer a full-size wagon—its largest wagon was the Vista Cruiser, based on a stretched A-body intermediate platform. So a Pontiac full-sized wagon body shell, from the firewall back, was merged with the Toronado front clip. As the photos show, the Olds/Pontiac mashup was more of a basic proof-of-concept rather than a finished prototype. The tail lamps fit oddly and the front and rear wheel openings don’t match at all.

Leading automotive historian Michael Lamm, writing in the late, great magazine Special Interest Autos (July-Aug 1978) reported that in fact, several of these experimental front-drive wagons were constructed. Mr. Lamm also noted that GM styling vice president Bill Mitchell raved about the flat, unobtructed floors, and he included this awesome Mitchell quote: “With the tailgate down, you could run a motorscooter into it.” But as we now know, the front-drive, Toronado-derived station wagon was never sent into production—though the UPP was later used to power the 1973-78 GMC Motor Home.

There was another Toronado station wagon, not that Oldsmobile had any direct involvement. In 1968-70, American Quality Coach of Blytheville, Arkansas produced the AQC Jetway 707 airport limousine. A Toronado with its wheelbase extended five and a half feet, it sported tandem rear axles, five doors per side, and a Vista Cruiser-ish station wagon roof. Somewhere between 52 and 150 of these behemoths were reportedly built, various sources say, and a number of them are still around.

1968-70, American Quality Coach

#Oldsmobile Toronado Station Wagon #car #cars #oldsmobile toronado #oldsmobile #Toronado Station Wagon #Toronado #station wagon #limousine

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ranchracoon · 4 months

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Feathers and Blood (Mother Miranda x Fem MC)

The roar of the market is deafening, people haggling the price of spices and garments while blissfully unaware of the secrets lurking further in. In the furthest part of the market is a stand set up at the back of a wagon, the table is lined with various exotic items and dried meats hang from the doors of the wagon. The man behind the table is short and stocky, his belly protrudes from underneath his shirt, the buttons strain to contain the rest. He hands a customer a green bottle with a green cross in the corner and DISINFECTANT in bold, black letters across the top. He takes the money from the customer then turns his attention to an approaching woman, he combs his hand through his hair that is oily enough to power a car.

The approaching woman is tall, taller than any average woman with platinum blonde hair and piercing gray eyes. She parts the crowd with her presence, people give her a wide berth and dare not glance her way. A wolf stalking through a herd of sheep, each one hoping another is chosen as this day's sacrifice. The man flashes her a friendly smile despite her cold, calculating stare unwavering as she halts on the other side of the table. She pretends to examine the artifacts in front of her, picking up an object to look it over before tossing it aside back onto the table.

"Miranda, pleasure to see you as always. What-"

The woman silences him with a wave of her hand but she still doesn't speak, instead she glares until she sees him swallow nervously. She cocks her head to one side, wrapping one arm around her torso and resting her other on top of it. A dark aura surrounds her, the other merchants bring their dull roars to a whisper, sparing glances at the poor man about to face his doom. They've seen her before, whispers of the things she has done, will do, and has yet to do navigate this market quicker than fire during dry season.

"Duke. Do you know why I am here?" The woman asks.

"Because I have all of your needs of course! Have I ever failed to deliver? Everything you want, everything you need, I can get. What is it today?"

"You could not be more incorrect, I am here in regards to my previous purchase. You said, and I quote, 'the most potent substance out there. Untraceable, undetectable, and can bring down a fully grown, bull elephant with a single drop.' Does that sound familiar?"

"Ah yes, the Tetrodotoxin I remember."

"Quiet." She orders, "that pathetic excuse for a toxin could not kill a newborn babe. I intended to kill you when I arrived but I concluded I would not be who I am if I was not fair; so, I'll give you a chance to remedy your mistake, then decide if I'll still kill you or not."

The Duke's eyes flash for a split second with fear, he knows she is true to her word. His eyes dart to the other stands but none of the sellers look his way, this is business as normal. There's a reason this street is nick-named the 'red-bricked road'; there was a time when the stone was pristine, but now sports a dingy, dulled, red from the copious amount of death it has witnessed. He swallows again and tries to think quickly, he's not one to give up money so easily so option 2 it is. He leans over and picks up the green bottle of medicine, sporting it in the air and flashing his best smile.

"This here is the world's most powerful disinfectant. I know someone like you could benefit from it, no matter the ailment this will fix it. It's not just a disinfectant but a cure-all for anything that ails you. The entire case, worth millions can be yours."

A bead of sweat runs down the side of his face, Miranda doesn't bother to look at the bottle but keeps her gaze on him. Normally he's very good at reading people, seeing the wheels turn in their head but not her, she has as much readability as a statue. Then his worse possible fears come true, the tiniest sound, a groan from inside the wagon catches her attention. Any human wouldn't have noticed over the murmuring of the crowds, but Miranda caught it instantly. Her attention targets the wagon, she straightens her head and tilts her chin up toward it, listening, and waiting. Duke stands there, unmoving and hoping she chalks it up to a simple creak, nothing more.

"What's inside the wagon?" She asks.

"What? Nothing. Overstock, my laundry of course, maybe a few mice here and there. Some inventory, trinkets, nothing that would interest you and certainly nothing as valuable as this here-"

"You love to ramble when you lie. Now show me." She interrupts.

He sighs defeatedly, setting the bottle back underneath the table before twisting to the back of the wagon and pulling the curtain back. The sunlight illuminates the interior to expose a woman with her ankles and wrists bound to the flooring. Miranda approaches the back and leans in to get a closer look; she must blink a few times to adjust to how dark it is for the woman blends in with dark flooring and walls. Her only clothing is a torn crop top, and pants with a tube going from her side into a familiar looking green bottle. Miranda scrunches her nose at the smell, it burns with every inhale and she brings her hand to her nose to block it out.

"Release her." Miranda orders.

"With all due respect Miranda, she-"

The Duke didn't finish his sentence before the air around him dissolves, he chokes and coughs to try and breath but there's nothing there. His face turns purple before he drops to his knees and claws at the collar of his shirt, then in a split second the air returns and he sucks in a loud, gasping breath. After a moment of struggling he stands, reaches into his pocket to withdraw a key before heaving himself into the wagon. His weight causes the wagon to lean back and the woman flinches from the sudden intrusion, he pants and grunts as he unlocks the chains then shuffles back out.

"Come out here." Miranda orders.

The woman stretches her legs, flexes her fingers and follows the order, she keeps her head down until she touches the edge of the wagon. She waves her hand blindly, looking for stability before settling on the wall to support her as she swings one leg after the other. Miranda watches the woman intently, seeing her clearly now in the sunlight. She no longer has the tubing in her side but there's a very obvious scar where the tube was but no open wound. Her hair is black and matted, it shields her face from further view so Miranda reaches over to move a large mat aside. The woman looks up and Miranda pauses, her eyes are cat-like yellow in their entirety with two large, black irises. The longer she stands in the sun, the thinner they become until they're thin slits, splitting the yellow down the center. She's an inch or two shorter than Miranda, her skin is darker than any human with speckles of white around her fingers and eyes, she's extremely malnourished but has visible abs and muscles on her arms.

"What's your name?" Miranda asks.

"Inanna." The woman answers.

Duke takes a cloth from his pocket to wipe the sweat away from his forehead when the woman speaks. Miranda's eyebrow cocks for a microsecond before falling to its original place, if the woman's eyes and skin weren't enough then her voice was a dead giveaway that she is not human. Her voice is gravely, most likely from dehydration but it is also low and muffled like someone had put a pillow over a speaker. Miranda cautiously reaches out to examine the woman's face but she startles back, her lips curling and causing her cracked lips to bleed.

Miranda retracts her hand then turns on her heels, "this will suffice."

"You're-wait, you can't take her."

Miranda turns to him warningly, making his swallow and simply nod in understanding as Inanna awaits further instruction. When Miranda turns back around she uses her index finger to signal for her to follow. She follows behind Miranda and stops when she does, Miranda doesn't look at Duke and instead examines her fingernails.

"Tell me Inanna, what would you do to someone who conned you?" She wonders.

"In my culture the punishments are direct reflections of the crime. If I was promised something and given another, I would return the favor." She answers.

"Hm." Miranda responds, mulling it over, "well, Duke here promised me an extremely potent, and rare poison but instead gave me something as common as nightshade. So, I say it's far I do something in return. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I don't care either way."

"Hmph. You're no fun."

With a snap of her fingers, the street below Duke's cart caves in and large, black roots engulfs the entirety before swallowing it below. The street restores itself as if nothing had been there, it happened so quickly that Duke didn't even get the chance to scream before disappearing from sight. Inanna bristles, this woman is obviously far more dangerous than Duke ever was and perhaps it would be in her best interest to behave, or at least play along. Miranda and Inanna cut through the crowd once more, the nearby vendors, swindlers, and customers bow their heads in avoidance. Inanna contemplates running, but after the display she just saw, she doubts she'll make it very far. The second they pass the threshold of the market place, a murder of crows flock around them causing Inanna to flinch away but she doesn't get far before her back strikes a stone wall.

She looks around in a panic, her hands grasping behind her for stability and blinks rapidly to adjust from the brightness outside to a poorly lit room. At least this room has light unlike the wagon. There are anatomy pictures of humans, and various animals strung up on the walls and bookshelves filled to the brim that line the spaces in between; a large workbench stands off to one side with two tables in the center littered with things she's never seen before. Inanna turns around to face the wall she struck, there's floor to ceiling iron bars with only a singular stone pillar in the center. Ianna stepped back from the bars, on the outside she appears calm and collected but, on the inside, she's panicking about being put into another cage. She should have ran when she had the chance.

"Can you read? Write? I know you can speak." Miranda states.

Inanna looks at the woman, she's now wearing what looks like a cloak made from feathers while walking around the room. Her face is covered with a golden bird mask that covers all but her eyes and hoops that reach to her collarbone, she has golden talons on her fingers that she uses to tap against a nearby counter. Inanna says nothing, instead opting to nod her head. She carefully examines her surroundings: she knows there's a cage behind her, but she sees no windows but she does see a door. She has no idea where she is, how she even got here, and she's far too weak to make an escape attempt now but it's good to orient oneself. Although, if this woman can move about wherever, and whenever she pleases then Inanna has no chance against her.

"At least you're literate. That's something I suppose."

Inanna takes mental note, this woman has no idea what she is and perhaps she can use that to her advantage. Inanna watches her pace around the room, anytime she moves too close Inanna scoots further away until she's trapped herself in the corner. Suddenly a cloud of feathers rises and surrounds the woman, when the cloud falls the woman is gone with only the pile of feathers in her place. Inanna peeks out from her corner, scooting across the cold, stone floor she picks up one of the feathers and strokes it between her fingers. It's been so long since she felt something this soft, she nuzzles it into her cheek before the woman appears once more. Inanna snarls and scatters to the nearest wall, clutching the feather to her chest in fear that the woman will take it from her.

Miranda kneels and places a plate with a cup of liquid on the floor, she then stands upright and takes a few steps back from it. Inanna and her stare at each other in silence, waiting for the other to make the first move but Inanna ultimately gives in. She slithers toward the food, crawling on all fours in a similar fashion to a monkey with a broken leg. When she reaches it she grabs the food with her entire fist and shoves it into her mouth then gulps down the liquid all within one go. Then she scurries back to her corner for safety, her eyes never leaving the woman as she does so. Miranda eyes the feather in Inanna's hand but says nothing as she stands there, unmoving, if not for the shallow rise and fall of her shoulders with each breath then Inanna would think she's a statue. After a pregnant pause the woman sighs forcefully.

"What are you?"

Inanna doesn't answer.

"You can answer willingly, or I can force it out of you. Take your pick."

"Excuse me for not being more forthcoming about myself just because you gave me food and water. Given my previous situation, I'm a bit cautious of the information I share and of your intentions. Also, I know nothing about you and you already know my name. It's only fair that I obtain an equal amount of knowledge."

Miranda narrows her eyes briefly, but Inanna cannot tell from the mask blocking the view. Miranda mimics the pose she had earlier, with one arm around her waist and the other tapping away at her chin.

"You can call me Mother Miranda." She finally says.

"Pleasure to meet you Mother Miranda." Inanna responds.

"I do not know what you are, therefore I do not have anything intended for you. However, once I figure that out, trust me, you will be the first to know what I have in store."

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"Then I guess I should extend the first olive branch and tell you that I did spike your food to knock you out so I could experiment on you. However, as you can tell, that didn't work."

"Wouldn't be the first time. Doubt it'll be the last." Inanna retorts.

"If you won't tell me what you are, can you at least tell me how you're able to consume enough flunitrazepam to knock out a fully grown male without so much as a yawn?"

Inanna shrugs, "fast metabolism?"

Miranda huffs in annoyance, "very well. Be like that."

Miranda disappears once again, leaving Inanna alone inside the enclosed room. She sighs heavily, although she wasn't entirely lying about having a fast metabolism the drug that Miranda slipped her did, in fact, work. Not to its full extent, Inanna is coherent enough to at least try the nearby door: locked of course. Then she wanders into the cell to find a cot and curl up onto it with the feather still firmly in her grasp. She wakes to every sound, on high alert for any possible intrusion by Miranda knowing that once she finds out what Inanna is, it'll be over. Perhaps she'll keep her alive like Duke did, or maybe she'll kill her. At this point, Inanna hoped for later.

After a restless few hours Inanna stirs awake to the softest whisper of a breeze, she flings herself up on the cot and flattens herself on the wall. Miranda stands in the open cell with another plate in one hand, a cup in the other, and something draped over the arm holding the glass. She sets the glass and plate on the floor, then tosses a blanket and what appears to be clothes onto the cot. She turns away and strides into the main room, shuffling around some paper and other various items before settling in one spot. Inanna sniffs at the plate curiously.

"It's not drugged. Not this time. Don't shove it all in this time, slow down otherwise you'll choke. No one is going to take it from you." Miranda states firmly.

Inanna picks at the food, her stomach betrays her hunger but she forces herself to eat it slowly to taste for any inconsistency. She drowns the water then scuttles over to the cot, she rummages through the clothing and begins to strip by taking her shorts off first. Miranda has given her some pants, socks, newer looking shoes, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. Inanna picks up a garment with two half cups and some straps, she's never seen something like this before and forgoes it.

"So you're a winged beast."

Inanna whips around, throwing the shirt in her hand only for it to flail onto the ground pathetically. Miranda looks at it then Inanna who stands there shirtless but unashamed, Miranda kneels and picks up the shirt then holds it out. Inanna stands there, eyeing the shirt then Miranda before taking a careful step forward and yanking the fabric away.

"How do you figure?" Inanna asks.

Miranda says nothing and instead her feathered cloak transforms into six black wings that stretch themselves out until they hit the ceiling and floor. No longer in her winged cloak she is now in a long black dress with a white and black piece of fabric around her shoulders, she also has a golden halo behind her head. Inanna hisses softly at the sudden change but stares at the wings, they don't look like traditional feathers; they look flowy, almost water-like while floating in the air and moving on their own. More importantly, Inanna wants to touch them very badly.

As suddenly as they appeared, they reform around Miranda and turn back into her feathered cloak. She stands there expectantly; she gave some information so now Inanna must give something up too. She ponders, how much can she reveal while still keeping her identity a secret. Instead, she'll dance around the subject, she knows what Miranda wants now and she can give her everything but that.

"I do have wings, yes. My name dates back to the Mesopotamian era, and I've been told it was the name of the goddess of the sky."

Miranda hums then leaves the entrance of the cell to return to her work, Inanna finishes dressing then pokes her head out. Once she determines that Miranda isn't moving from her spot she creeps up beside her and slides the feather onto the counter top. Miranda pauses her work and eyes the feather, she chuckles under her breath then scoffs a little.

"What use do I have for a feather?"

"You gave me something so, now I must give you something. This is all I have."

For once, Miranda takes pause. She picks up the feather and examines it, she has thousands of feathers but for some reason, she can't help but stare at this one in particular. She tsks and slides the feather back to Inanna.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice."

"Thank you." Inanna whispers before taking the feather back and holding it to her chest.

"You're welcome. You're being treated far kinder than I normally would treat the creatures I bring down here. By now you would have been cut open, examined, studied, and maybe I would even try the Cadou on you. However, you fascinate me more and, from how the Duke acted I would say you are very valuable, then perhaps you're better off alive."

"What is a Cadou?"

Miranda's eyes flash for the briefest moment, "want me to show you?"

Inanna nods and the corner of Miranda's mouth cracks into a smile before she turns from her reading and guides Inanna to a nearby cabinet. Miranda kneels down to open it and pulls out a large jar with a fetal looking mass inside. Miranda spends hours explaining what it is, how she created it, why she created it, and Inanna simply listens. Occasionally she asks a question that sends Miranda into another frenzy of excitement, it even gets to the point where Miranda brings out a chalk board and begins to illustrate her points. She shows pictures of past experiments which make Inanna tit her head curiously whereas most people find the graphic, surgical details disturbing.

"I see you're not phased by human experimentation." Miranda comments.

"Why would I? Humans are the reason my species is nearly extinct. Last I heard, there is only about five of us left. Including me."

Miranda contemplates Inanna's words carefully, so she's a winged creature with extraordinary healing capabilities, and her species would be classified as extremely endangered. She changes the subject and proceeds to continue her lecture on how she created the Cadou, how she experiments with it, and most importantly, how she intends to use it. Inanna barely understands any of it, mostly because Miranda keeps using words like: gene, allele, autosomal dominate disorder, and other phrases that Inanna doesn't know. However, she's content listening to Miranda ramble on about whatever it is she's rambling about. Duke barely spoke to her and when he did, it was often a command or order. It wasn't until Inanna yawned that Miranda finally pauses, the feathers on her cloak rustle.

"Oh my...I've been talking at you all day. I'm sure you're hungry."

Inanna eats her food given to her and Miranda bids her goodnight; now that she knows what Miranda is passionate about, she knows how to keep her occupied. Inanna asks questions, and over the next few days, or possibly weeks, it's hard to tell with no clock or windows, Inanna and her fall into a sort of comfortable routine. At one point, Miranda unlocks the door to allow Inanna to use a bathroom instead of a bucket, and to finally bathe. Since then, Miranda hasn't asked Inanna what she is, nor has she bothered to try and learn more about her. Anytime Miranda tries to flip the narrative, Inanna gives her generic answers or answers the question indirectly without giving too much away. Although, Inanna is slowly lowering her walls around the strange, bird woman because she enjoys how excited Miranda gets when speaking about her experiments.

Miranda caught on to how much Inanna enjoys feathers and slowly started leaving various kinds of feathers around her lab for Inanna to find. She sees Inanna stash them underneath her mattress and catches glimpses of her rubbing them against her face. Miranda briefly mentions her daughter, how she passed away and Miranda is trying to get her back. Inanna remains extremely quiet during this part, she fiddles with the bottom of her shirt while Miranda speaks but the conversation is short lived. Miranda doesn't speak to her over the course of a few days and seemingly avoids Inanna altogether by leaving her food, water, and nothing else. When Miranda finally returns to the lab Inanna fiddles with a tube of green liquid, she holds it up to Miranda who hesitantly takes it.

"What is this?" She asks.

"My blood. You shared something very personal with me, it seems only fair I share something with you."

Inanna doesn't bring up her daughter again, but this act seems to appease Miranda and she goes to work studying the blood sample. It's like no blood she's ever seen, or been documented but it shares the same markers as lizards and birds do. Her white blood cell activation is faster than the speed of light which makes her immune to all diseases and why she didn't react to the knock out drug. This is also how she's able to heal to incredibly quickly, and why Duke was selling her blood as a cure-all. It still leaves her with more questions than answers but now she has a new hyper fixation: what is Inanna, and how can she be used to bring back her daughter? Sometimes Miranda forgets Inanna is there until she suddenly pops up and startles the priestess.

It seems her blood sample did more harm than good because Miranda has been obsessing over it for days now and growing increasingly more frustrated. When Miranda seems in an especially sour mood then Inanna reads one of the books on the shelves and sits in her little cell. Today Inanna is stir crazy. She's finished all the books in English that line the shelves, she doesn't know the other languages and instead opts for pacing back and forth. Miranda tells her to knock it off so Inanna finds something else to occupy herself which only irritates Miranda more.

"How about you make yourself useful instead of fiddling with everything like a child!" Miranda snaps out, her hands slamming down on the table.

"Just how do you expect me to do that?"

"Get samples or something. Either help me or get out!"

Miranda points to a tray of empty tubes, Inanna picks them up and looks between the tubes and Miranda. Slowly she backs away toward the door, careful not to drag her feet as she nears it. Every so often she looks at Miranda then the door, this has to be some sort of trick right? She wouldn't let Inanna go freely. Hours pass and Miranda grows more and more frustrated to the point she flings the things in front of her onto the floor. She messages her temples and groans loudly then swivels in her chair to not see Inanna.

Panic sets in, as does the realization that she may have just allowed her most valuable asset to wander free. Miranda flies through the door, she checks every room she passes and every hiding spot in the area before she steps outside. She doesn't make it far before she stops in her tracks, before her is a very, large rainbow dragon. Not like Alcina's dragon; this dragon is more stereotypical with four legs, leathery bat-like wings, a tail that's whipping around, and a gigantic head with two horns that stick up. This dragon shimmers in the sunlight, its scales mimic the reflection of sunlight on water giving it a translucent appearance; and it is currently rolling around in the snow like a dog. It throws itself onto the ground, scrapes its back into the snow then uses its tail to flick it up into the air. It then rolls back over, grabs scoops of snow and throws it into the air so it can prance around.

Miranda clears her throat as the dragon is in midroll in the snow, it freezes with its legs up in the air before it tilts its head upward to look in Miranda's direction. They lock eyes, their golden ones staring back into her dull, gray ones. This has to be Inanna. The forest, once alive with the thumping and crunching of the dragon and the sounds of wildlife, comes to an abrupt halt. Inanna tilts her head and looks off into the distance, Miranda listens carefully but only can make out the soft crunching of footsteps in snow. The dragon flings itself to its feet, and arches its back up, their scales stand up like a cat fluffing its hackles or tail to appear bigger. In fact, the dragon mimics a cat perfectly from the way it twists to expose its side while maintaining the appearance of intimidation. Miranda covers her mouth to smother a laugh, what a sight to see a fully grown dragon with its scales puffed out.

Out of the forest wanders a lynx, it sniffs the ground before making eye contact with the dragon. It copies the dragon by arching its back, puffing its tail, and hissing loudly while the dragon curls up to make itself even bigger before it unleashes an ear-splintering roar. The intensity of it vibrates the nearby trees and makes the birds all take flight at once. The lynx huffs and retreats back into the forest, the dragon shakes its whole body to lower their scales then turns to face Miranda. Before her eyes the dragon shrinks, the wings fold into themselves, and standing there is Inanna.

"Well, that would explain the feathers."

Inanna suddenly makes a sound that Miranda hasn't heard in over a century; laughter. Inanna laughs hard enough that she doubles over while holding her stomach. Miranda raises an eyebrow then smothers another chuckle before settling and hugging herself from the brisk cold. Miranda sighs, she has enjoyed having Inanna around for she didn't realize how socially starved she was. She could easily drag Inanna back down to the lab, force her to stay, and study her further. Miranda didn't know dragons even existed, this would cause so many break throughs in the scientific community and possibly be the answer for bringing her daughter back.

Instead, Miranda returns inside back to her lab, leaving Inanna out in the snow to do as she pleases. She'll probably come to regret this decision, that is until she hears the soft pitter patter of feet inside the lab. An object clatters next to her. A dragon scale the size of her hand shimmers even in the warm lighting. Miranda picks it up to look it over, then rotates to face Inanna who is twiddling her fingers.

"What's this?"

"I read that crows like shiny things."

Miranda can't help it anymore. She throws covers her mouth to try and smother the snort she unleashes while failing miserably.

"Is this because of the horde joke?"

Inanna chuckles, "sort of but also, in my culture giving someone one of your scales is a sign of loyalty and trust because it exposes our underneath. You trusted me with your science stuff and your daughter, and you could have easily taken me even in my dragon form. Yet, you were willing to let me go. It's only fair that I begin to trust you. I...I want you to have this one."

Miranda holds the scale in her hand, "I see why you were hesitant to share with me what you are. Especially after giving me your blood, I could have taken the path Duke did and exploit you."

"Yet, you didn't. Even after you found out about my healing abilities, I'm sorry it causes you so much frustration."

"Hm. Well now that I know what you are, all the pieces are coming together."

There's a long silence between them before Miranda breaks it, "where will you go now?"

"I...I don't know. I don't have anywhere to go."

"What about, other dragons?"

"I told you there's only about 5 left including me. That was...years ago so who knows if they're still alive or not. All I have is my memories but even those are beginning to fade. I haven't seen another dragon since my parents died."

"How old were you?"

"Mentally and physically probably around 6 or 7. I was raised in orphanages until they started to catch on that I didn't age to the same degree then I was old enough to care for myself. That is, until Duke found me. You know the rest."

"You've been without parents...for how long?"

Inanna shrugs, "I lost count after 70 years."

Miranda watches Inanna and reads her body language, how shy and upset it makes her to talk about her parents. Miranda and her are not that far different from each other. While she's been without a daughter and failing at every turn to find a suitable host, there has been a young woman out there without a mother for close to the same amount of time. Miranda places the shell onto the counter next to her then stands from her stool in front of Inanna before she opens her arms with the palms facing out. Inanna looks her over, her initial reaction is to run but forces herself to take step after step until she hits Miranda's chest. Miranda wraps her arms around the girl and tightens until she can't tighten her hold any further.

"Thank you." They whisper to each other simultaneously.

#resident evil village #re8 #mother miranda #men and minors dni #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda x fem mc #mother miranda x fem oc #mother miranda & fem mc #mother miranda & fem oc #one shots

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