#i'll clean this up and post it on ao3 tomorrow probably

[astaraels]

Day 9 — Femslash February — Post-Finale

Sandy/Debbie, at the Alibi. (ao3)

@m4ndysk4nkovich @holymurdock @lovekenney

“I'm definitely not sticking around here. I'm going to Texas, day after tomorrow. Hopping a bus and getting the fuck out.” Heidi looked at Debbie and grinned. “You could come with me, you know. Bring your kid, too, if you want.”

For a minute, Debbie thought about the possibility—leave everything behind and start fresh. Get away from all the bullshit and find a new place she could go with Franny. She couldn't deny that it sounded tempting, especially with all the shit going down in her life lately.

But then she thought about Franny and the rest of her family—Carl, Ian, Liam, Mickey, even Lip and Tammi—and she knew what her answer would be.

“Thanks, but…I'm gonna stay here. Even with all the dumb shit going on, it's still my home. But thanks, anyway.”

Heidi shrugged, pulling the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Your loss, Debbie,” she said, nonchalant. “Maybe I'll see ya around sometime.”

Doubtful, thought Debbie, almost glad to see the back of the other woman as Heidi got out of the booth and headed for the door with a spring in her step. Debbie sighed and took a drink of her beer, wondering what the hell she was gonna do now. Lip probably still wanted to sell the house—her house, the only home she'd ever known—and in spite of everything he'd done lately, she was worried about him. Fighting with her siblings made Debbie's stomach churn, and she'd been feeling like shit since…well.

The day Lip took a sledgehammer to the wall had been bad enough—she remembered Ian holding onto her, both of them never expecting their brother to lash out like that—but then everything that had gone down with Sandy…shit. Debbie put her head in her hands for a moment before she took another drink of her beer.

Thankfully Franny had been commandeered by her uncles for dancing, and Debbie managed to wipe her tears away quickly when she heard her daughter call, “Mommy! Look at me, look at me!” as she and Mickey danced around with one of the Polish girls. Debbie waved at Franny and smiled, though it wasn't the easiest thing. But she didn't want Franny to know she was upset—this was supposed to be a fun night for all of them, not “Debbie wallowing in her own misery” night. She could drown her sorrows tomorrow while Franny was at school.

The door to the Alibi swung open, and Debbie looked up—and she had to do a double take. The woman who'd just walked through the door certainly looked like Sandy Milkovich, but…different. Whereas Sandy usually let her hair fall down all stringy and a little messy, now it looked clean and put together, pulled back in a low ponytail behind her ear so it fell over her shoulder. She wore her usual leather jacket, but her shirt and jeans were nice, no holes in the material to be seen. Even her high-tops looked cleaner than they should have from walking around the multiple construction sites nearby.

“Oh, fuck,” Debbie said under her breath, then hurriedly took a swig of her drink as Sandy caught her eye and walked right towards the booth where Debbie sat, climbing in on the opposite side. She looked—well, angry, but Debbie knew that was just Sandy's regular face. But she also seemed nervous, linking her fingers on both hands together as she sat there, not speaking.

“...what are you doing here?” Debbie finally asked, crossing her arms and sitting back. Sandy looked awkward at the question and didn't answer right away. It made Debbie roll her eyes in frustration, and she started to get up. Sandy reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her. “If you're not gonna say anything, then why the hell are you even here, huh?”

“I…I need to say something. To you.” Sandy's words were said through pursed lips, her voice strained. “...I'm an idiot. And I-” she stopped, frustration written on her face. “I'm sorry. I fucked up.”

An apology from a Milkovich was a rare thing, that was for sure. She'd spent enough time with Mickey and Mandy over the years to know that one of the first rules about being a Milkovich was never to say you're sorry for anything. And yet here was Sandy, admitting she'd screwed up. Debbie couldn't agree more.

“Damn right you did,” she said, an edge in her voice. So maybe she was still hurt from the whole thing, give her a break. Things had been really good with them, and then they'd fallen apart in what felt like an instant. Sandy had left her in one of the worst places of her adult life, and she'd spiraled, hard. “You didn't just put the knife in my chest, Sandy, you fucking had to twist it, too. So why should I listen to anything a deadbeat mom like you has to say?”

Maybe that jab was a little cruel, but at least it made Debbie feel a tiny bit better. Sort of, anyway.

“Look, it's…a bullshit situation. I never wanted to be a mom. You know my family. Mickey said you were around when he was going through all his shit. If they can't beat the gay out of you, they just get you married off and start popping out kids.” Sandy sighed, and started to reach for the bottle in Debbie's hand before she pulled back, fingers twitching.

“...I'll get us some drinks,” Debbie finally said. If they were going to have this conversation, they would definitely need something stronger than beer. She snagged two glasses of bourbon from Kev and went back over to the booth, sliding one across the table to Sandy.

After getting back into the seat, Debbie took a long drink from her glass. “Look. I get that things weren't easy for you. I saw some of the shit Mickey went through with his dad, having to marry Svetlana, all of that. But you have a kid, Sandy. You left him—and yeah, I do know what it's like to be that kid. And then you hurt me. You fucking…stabbed me in the heart, okay?”

“I was pissed off—I never asked for that kid in the first place. I tried to get an abortion, but I couldn't get the money in time.” Sandy took a drink, glancing away. “I figured…it'd be easier if he didn't have to deal with a mom who never wanted him.”

Debbie shook her head. “Every kid wants a mom. And you were always so good with Franny; why is Prince so different?”

“Because I knew Franny was part of the deal when we got together!” Sandy said. Her eyes were wide, now, almost scared. Like she was backed into a corner. “At first we were hooking up, things were really good…then that skank Julia showed up, and I got-”

“-punchy?” Debbie said with a snort of laughter. Sandy actually blushed a little, and Debbie felt it in her stomach. She pushed the feeling away, though; she didn't want to make this easy. If they were going to fix shit in any way, shape, or form, Sandy had to say what Debbie needed to hear from her. But…it was still nice all the same, to know that Sandy wasn't completely over her. And she could maybe admit to herself that she wasn't over Sandy, either.

“Yeah. That. And I guess, well—things were good. I didn't wanna fuck it up. I've…” Sandy trailed off in favor of taking another drink. “Shit. We really gotta do all this talking?”

Debbie nodded. “Yep,” she said, popping her lips on the last letter. “Might need to get some more bourbon for this conversation.” She paused to take a slow sip, catching Sandy's gaze with her own. “...I gotta get Franny home soon, but…we could always sit on the porch. Have a smoke. Talk.”

“Mickey was right,” Sandy said, finishing off her glass. “You Gallaghers really like talking a lot.”

Debbie smiled in spite of herself. “You'd be pretty amazed how good we are at it.” Sandy just laughed, and Debbie's heart ached.

Things wouldn't get fixed right away—it just didn't work like that. Debbie was still hurting, a lot, and the two of them were both broken, damaged people. She trusted too easily, and Sandy barely trusted at all. But there was a kernel of hope in her now. Maybe Sandy had left her, had ripped her heart out, but she'd also come back, and the fact that she was willing to talk was almost Sandy's way of holding her own heart out in apology. It took a lot of work to be with a Milkovich—Debbie had seen it fail with Lip and Mandy, and eventually succeed with Mickey and Ian. Maybe part of Debbie, deep down, wanted to make it work out for herself, too.

She and Sandy had been good together, all things considered, and in spite of Sandy's issues with being a mom, Franny had adored her. And sure, Sandy had screwed up big time, but maybe…maybe Debbie wanted to hear what she had to say. They were capable of having a conversation instead of a screaming match. And Sandy had gone through all the trouble of looking nice for her, too. At least that's what Debbie hoped.

So maybe they'd take Franny back to the Gallagher house, tuck her into bed, then grab some drinks and head out to the back porch. They'd light cigarettes and talk quietly, sitting next to each other on the wooden, peeling steps. And maybe Sandy would say enough, say the right thing that Debbie could forgive her. Maybe it would take longer than a night to get there. But she at least was willing to try.

#shamelessfemslash #sebbie #debbie gallagher #sandy milkovich #shameless #shameless fanfiction #femslash february #the things is that mickey invited sandy but she got there late after the big sing along

[romaine2424]

Daily Blog July 3, 2023

Not feeling chatty today, too many errands and chores to do. At least I don't have to buy fireworks this year for the 4th of July. They were just outlawed last year where I live. Before that, we were all out in the street shooting of aerials and and lots of other things. Neighbors around the corner always put on quite the show. Had a few scary moments over the years. But it was all fun until the clean up!

What I'm reading:

Oh wow Everybody Hates a Tourist by anon for the @hd-wireless fest definitely earned it's right to open the fic portion of the fest. It created quite the atmosphere in Brighton were we find one Draco Malfoy living the gay Muggle scene for the last 8 years.

Summary:

On a stag do in sunny Brighton with the Gryffindor lads, the last person Harry expects to run into is Draco Malfoy. After a glimpse of Malfoy’s Muggle life in Britain’s gay capital, Harry’s curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself returning to the seaside again and again, drawn to the city, drawn to this new version of Malfoy that Harry barely recognises from school. Meanwhile, Draco’s just trying to live his big and best queer life: working for the weekend, chasing hot men, getting lost in Brighton's nightlife, and making friends with the neighbourhood cats. Why does his former school rival and crush have to show up and spoil everything?

There was so much to enjoy about this fic given the summertime atmosphere and just hanging out in the pubs, having some smokes, and eating bits of this and that. Harry in this fic is going through some changes in his life but is still on solid ground physically and mentally. We think Draco is too, but there is a vulnerability there and, of course, Harry wants to fix it. One of my favorite things about this fic is Harry's innocence but also sense of adventure. Draco introducing him bit by bit to his lifestyle and the atmosphere of Brighton and Harry is wide-eyed but also enthusiastic. Very cute. Oh and asking for gossip about fellow classmates was a riot. Poor innocent Harry. :) A lovely feel-good fic with definite moments of seriousness. Read and definitely give MA some love with comments!

Everybody Hates a Tourist on AO3

Drarry Tumblr Fic/Art Resources

I know most of you are probably already following @thedrarrylibrarian, but not everyone goes to the home page of someone's Tumblr site. This is a must for @thedrarrylibrarian because there is so much packed into a few links. The first thing you should do is read the FAQ on the home page before you get started. Especially if you're looking for a type of fic. Some fic genres and tropes aren't covered. Also, if you're looking for a specific fic, this is not the place as noted. That is @lostdrarryfics, another great drarry fandom resource.

What is on here is a Card Catolog, which gives a plethora of subject matters to find fics under. Like Beach Reads, or Spy!Draco or Raising Teddy. And even better, they are being continually updated.

Also there is the Reference Section, which is extremely helpful. Here's a few examples: How to Tag your Fic, How to Gain Friends & Friends Writing Fanfic, and How to Write Fanfic Summaries!

The last category, I've mentioned before and that is Friends of the Library, which is a list with links to the collaborations with other writers/artists/reccers/friends, which includes The Happy Hour events.

And finally, you can always ask for a type of fic(s) to fulfill a certain want or need. :)

A lot of work has gone into the site. It's very easy to use, which I particularly am a fan of. So go play around and see what you can discover in the @thedrarrylibrarian!

Tomorrow is a holiday and I'm not sure I'll be making a post as we have some family plans. Hope everyone enjoys their week!

Rom

#romaine2424 daily blog #july 2023

[wings-of-flying]

cba with ao3 tags rn, so tumblr gets the fic today (i'll post it properly tomorrow and maybe check through it idk)

jay writes a letter to kira to try to deal with her emotions

Dear Kira,

You know, I didn’t think I’d ever have to write to you again. I say write to you like this’ll ever end up in your hands: it won’t. Just like all the letters before. The ones I scribbled back when we were teens; the ones I folded into impossibly small pieces and shoved in a box under my bed. (Note to self: make sure to burn those when I go home. If I go home. Shit.) Point is, you won’t ever read this. I’ll probably never look at it again. It might even end up dissolving in the ocean, who knows. But I’m writing this anyway, because writing helps.

You’ll never understand the feelings that erupted in me when I heard your voice again. The anger, the pain, the fucking joy all merged into this bubbling mess of untamed emotion. I thought I might explode. And you just looked so radiant. Almost angelic. Golden, perfect, beautiful. As you always are. 

Then you started talking about Navy bullshit and you fucking fought me and I just had this thought in my head the whole time, like “Fuck, I’ve still got feelings for her”. It threw me off honestly.

Cause what am I supposed to do, Kira? Leave them? Go home? Stand at your side, at my family’s side, while we rip the world apart? 

I was tempted. There, I said it. I was tempted to join you. To have all that again. To have my family back, my home back. You back. I miss it all. Minus the, you know, ripping the world apart thing. And the “No you can’t make your own choices, you’re a Ferin” thing. Aside from that though, I miss it. You’ll never understand what it’s like to look your father dead in the eyes and just know that any chance of returning to the past has gone. They’ll never understand. Which is reason number two no one will ever read this letter. It’s practically destined for the sea now.

But yeah. Turns out I still have feelings for you. Which sucks, honestly, cause crushes are only supposed to last, what, a few months at best? I think I was twelve when I realised.

We were at school, hidden under one of those bushes at the back of the playing field. Hiding both from the summer heat and the other kids. The mean ones like- shit what was her name? Was it Nora, or was she the weird one? Whoever it was had called you something horrid and I’d tried to do my usual bit of standing up for you, but she pushed me and my knee started bleeding. I was completely prepared to keep fighting (I think you said my hair caught flame. I laughed at the time, but now I’m wondering if that’s another weird thing my family just do) but you dragged me away. 

So we crouched in one of those bushes. The one with the flowers you liked. The pink ones. And I don’t know what it was. It could’ve been the light coming through the gaps in the leaves, the way it made your horn glint and sparkle. Or your gentle touch as you cleaned my wound (it was only a graze, but you treated it so seriously. Your tongue stuck out a little while you wiped away the blood.) Or the smallest grin you had even when telling me off for getting myself hurt again, because I think secretly you enjoyed me looking after you like that. 

It almost doesn’t matter what started it, because I started noticing all these things and my heart just warmed instantly. I was practically glowing inside. I hadn’t really had those feelings before but it reminded me of a song Mum used to sing about the sun as a symbol of love or something.

That’s when I first realised.

I pushed it down for years and years, pretending everything was fine and normal and I wasn’t crushing hard on my best friend. It died down after Ava… after that. And then I left, so it all sort of stopped. I forgot about it, as much as it pains me to say. I forgot about you. Or at least I thought I did.

But now you’re back and it’s all right back to where we started. It’s a beautiful place, but fuck it hurts. I don’t know whether I can do this again. The butterflies have grown into whole-ass birds, the size of eagles. And now everything’s so much worse because we’re on opposite sides. Gods, I wish I could explain it all to you. Get you to see how wrong the Navy is, how pirates aren’t what we were taught. Wouldn’t that be easier? Then we could have a chance. I could try to be brave and talk to you. 

You want to meet with me. Talk about things. Probably ask more questions. But you have to understand why I can’t do that. Not just logistically, with the chance of you tracking us or organising some sort of trap (gods I hate that this is something I have to worry about with you now). But also emotionally. I can’t. 

I can’t see you and talk to you and be so so close to what life used to be like. Because I’m scared. I’m scared I won’t be able to resist. And I need to resist. 

You wouldn’t understand, even if I did try to explain. So why bother? You won’t change, even if I wish you would. Just like you didn’t kiss me or ask me out those times I wished you would. You won’t change. So maybe it’s for the best that I try to forget you. I just wish it weren’t so fucking difficult. You’re pretty unforgettable, really.

I miss you. So fucking much. I love you, I think. You’re awful and you tried to kill my friends, but I love you. You mean everything to me. But I’ve got to move on. Else you’ll kill me alive. And we’re about to fight in a fucking war, so I kinda need to be alive for that. You get it.

I’m sorry. For everything I’ve done and everything I will do. If we cross paths on the battlefield, I hope you’re stronger than I am and you shoot. I wouldn’t blame you.

Goodbye.

Jay Ferin.

#jrwi jay ferin #jrwi kira #albatross writes #jrwi fanfiction #jrwi fanfic

[cellard0ors]

Tne second that wedding fic goes on ao3 know that I’m writing you the biggest sappiest comment detailing my utter love for it

Since I wrote all of this at work I'll probably clean it up tomorrow and post it then! Thanks in advance! 😘

#cellar answers #hackearney #travis x laura

[bleakcreek]

sleep tight

(nothing prompted this except for my own brain. this is 1.5k words of mostly-platonic bed-sharing. it is tooth-rottingly fluffy. this has not been beta’d and it’s almost 1 am so i can’t promise there are no errors.)

--

“Do you remember when we used to do this as kids?”

Rhett’s patting his freshly washed face dry with a hand-towel when Link says it, and he glances sidelong at the hotel mirror to get a good look at him where he’s fluffing up the pillows on his side of the bed. When his eyes meet Rhett’s, his glasses are already off. 

Rhett raises an eyebrow at him. “What, you mean when you came on vacation with my family?”

He tosses the damp towel back onto the bathroom counter before turning off the bathroom light, leaving the lamp on the bedside table as the only light in the room. With the room’s only light source streaming directly onto Link, his hair looks even more silver than usual. 

“Not that,” Link continues. He’s in joggers and t-shirt as he climbs into the room’s single bed.

It occurs to Rhett that when the concierge informed them that they’d been booked in a single, neither of them had even thought to ask about getting a second room.

“I mean when we used to have sleepovers.” 

He turns over on his pillow to face Rhett as he slides in beside him, and it occurs to him how much younger Link looks without his glasses, how vulnerable. “D’you remember — I think it was maybe the fourth time you’d come over? Or maybe it was the fifth. It was definitely at least the third though—”

“Light,” Rhett interrupts, as he rolls onto his side. He glances up at the lamp. 

Link seems to take the hint, because he moves immediately to turn it off, even as he keeps talking. “—Anyway, I think it was maybe a little after Halloween, ‘cause we had that big bag of candy that I hid under my bed, so my mama came in to make sure we’d brushed out teeth an’ weren’t eatin’ candy in bed.”

“And then Mama Sue told me she didn’t like me sleeping on the floor, so she put my pillow at the end of your bed—”

“—And then you thought it was funny to kick me all night!” Link’s voice ticks up at the end like he’s still irritated about it, but even in the dark, Rhett can see the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to fight a smile.

Rhett gives him a gentle little kick, barely more than a bump of his foot against Link’s, and says, “Yeah, I remember that.”

He expects Link to retaliate, to kick him back, to continue the story, to… something.

Instead, Link is quiet. He shifts closer to Rhett, so that only a few inches are separating them, and rolls around to face the ceiling. 

He’s so uncharacteristically silent for so long Rhett would think he was asleep, if he didn’t see the occasional fluttering of his open eyes against the darkness.

At last, barely audible, he says, “Why’d we stop?”

“The sleepovers? ‘Cause we were roommates, man.”

“Not that. I mean the,” he gestures vaguely at the air above his head, “the sleeping in the same bed thing. It felt like one minute it was okay and then the next it was like — it was only okay if we had to, and only if we pretended to hate it.”

Rhett remembers being eleven years old, remembers Cole tugging him aside in the hallway after Link’s mama came to take him home, remembers him telling him you oughta stop letting letting another boy sleep in his bed before people start sayin’ you two ain’t right. 

He didn’t know what his brother meant by that back then, but it was still enough to scare him back into bringing a sleeping bag over to Link’s house.

“Just outgrew it, I guess,” Rhett says instead.

“Mm,” is Link’s noncommittal reply. “Guess so.”

After thirty-five years of friendship with him, Rhett likes to think he’s gotten pretty good at reading Link. More importantly, he knows that on the rare occasion he’s gotten something wrong, they’ve always bounced back from it.

So when Rhett scoots in, closing the last few inches between them, and lifts an arm to give Link a chance to cuddle in closer, he figures — at the absolute worst — Link might get indignant and tell him to get back on his side of the bed, might maybe assume Rhett is just messing with him. Might even kill the conversation for the rest of the night, but nothing worse than that.

It turns out, thought, Rhett’s Link-related instincts are perfect this time, because he immediately feels the warm, solid press of another body next to his. One of Link’s hands lands lightly on Rhett’s chest, right over his heart.

Link makes an indignant noise at the back of his throat. “Man, why ain’t ‘chu wearin’ a shirt?” He doesn’t move to pull away, though, and even hooks one ankle over Rhett’s. 

“‘Cause I get overheated, man.” Rhett curls his arm to brush the pads of his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s hot in here.”

“You are basically a furnace,” Link grumbles. It sounds like he’s complaining, but from the way he turns his face into Rhett’s chest and presses his cold nose into Rhett’s collarbone, he has a feeling Link doesn’t mind it too much. 

“You like it,” Rhett counters mildly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t’ve kept tryin’ to spoon me while you were sleepin’.” He can feel the last of the tension eke out of Link’s shoulders as he keeps combing his fingers through Link’s hair. 

“...Wasn’t always asleep,” Link says. “That time I latched onto you and you said you couldn’t get me to let go so I just stayed stuck to you all night? I was awake for that one.”

“You coulda just told me you wanted to snuggle,” Rhett teases, he knows it’s a mistake the second the words leave his lips.

Right on cue, Link’s whole body locks up. “Yeah, I’m sure that woulda gone great back in our Campus Crusade days,” he snaps. “Or maybe you mean back when we were teenagers, when the only time we could touch without your dad or Cole shooting us dirty look was when we wrestled?”

“Hey, I’m sorry—”

“Screw you, you’re sorry.”

Rhett feels Link start to roll away and immediately locks his arms around him, pinning him in place against his side. Link’s legs go to move next, and Rhett immediately wraps one of his long legs around Link’s, his ankle tucked around the other man’s shin to keep him from pulling away. 

“Let go a’ me!” He keeps wriggling, but can’t get enough leverage to get away. Eventually, he settles for pressing his face into the side of Rhett’s neck and huffing. “I don’t wanna cuddle anymore, I’m upset with you.”

It’s a ridiculous sentence, like something Link might say to Jade for peeing on the carpet, and it’s a testament to Rhett’s self-control that he keeps himself from laughing at it. 

“You can cuddle and be mad at me,” Rhett says, voice somewhere between genuine and patronizing, as he reaches the hand not holding onto Link back toward the nightstand.

“Ugh,” Link groans. Still, he seems to have resigned himself to his fate, and starts to relax back into him. “Wait — what are you grabbing?”

“My phone,” Rhett says. He holds it in front of Link, like it will somehow ease any suspicions Link might have about what he’s up to rather than exacerbating them.

“And why—” Link grabs for it, but Rhett just holds it higher, fully out of Link’s reach, as he unlocks it one-handed. “—Do you need your phone?”

Rhett doesn’t answer, just clicks the shutter button once and lets the flash burst into the room, illuminating the blue of Link’s eyes for one brief moment before it disappears again.

In the picture, Link’s face is set into a deep frown, half-buried in the blankets and tucked neatly against Rhett’s chest. He’s never seen any one person look so adorable and pissed off at the same time. 

“What’re you doin’ with that picture?” Link reaches for the phone again, and Rhett holds it out above his head. “If you post that to instagram—” 

“I’m not putting it anywhere public, don’t worry.” Rhett has the New Message box open, gets about two seconds into typing C-H-R when Link starts struggling for the phone again.

“Oh, no, don’t you dare send that to my wife, she’ll never let me life it down—”

“—I was also gonna send it to Jessie—”

“—Oh, so she can post it to twitter to gain clout with our fans? That’s even worse than sending it to my wife!”

“Sent,” Rhett announces, his thumb making contact with the Send Message button just as Link finally manages to grab the phone out of Rhett’s hands. 

Jessie McLaughlin is typing… pops up onto the screen almost as soon as the message enters the cloud.

“Man, therapy has made you into an insufferable ass,” Link grumbles, shoving the phone back into Rhett’s hands before he can see Jessie’s no-doubt delighted response to his predicament. 

“I was already an insufferable ass,” Rhett says evenly. “Therapy just made me into an insufferable ass that’s okay with cuddling with my best friend. Now go to sleep, Link.”

#rhink #my fic #i'll clean this up and post it on ao3 tomorrow probably #this is the first thing i've finished in literally months oops

[aadmelioraa]

"I'll make some tea." + Aldhelm

This is for you and also for @aelflaeds who requested a fill for the same prompt. Enjoy!!

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, Aelfwynn x Cynlaef, Aldhelm & Aelfwynn, Modern AU, 1.9k, rated T.

Aelfwynn brings her new boyfriend home without warning, which is how Aethelflaed and Aldhelm discover she has a boyfriend at all. Luckily, Cynlaef knows how to break the ice (ok maybe not, but he's trying his best).

read below or on ao3

It had been a quiet and productive spring day for Aldhelm—unbelievably productive, actually. He’d finished grading the last of his term papers, cleaned the entire kitchen, and even reorganised the pantry. He couldn't reasonably ask more of a Friday afternoon.

He’s ahead of schedule, as Aethelflaed isn’t due home for another two hours, and just deciding how to make use of his spare time—begin reorganising the library, perhaps?—when he hears the doorbell. It’s probably a delivery person. He needs to get the post anyway.

But when he reaches the front door, the young man standing before him and holding a box is not in uniform. Furthermore, he appears tongue tied, opening and closing his mouth without saying a word.

Aldhelm frowns at him as he opens the postbox. “You can set that down, I’ll take it in a moment.”

The young man stares, his head tilted like a dog who’s been asked to wait for a treat.

“Did you need a signature?” Aldhelm prompts. The man—more a boy, really—doesn’t appear to have a clue as to how to do his job.

“No—that’s alright—“ the young man stammers.

“Aldhelm?” Aelfwynn appears at the bottom of the steps, a weekend bag slung over her shoulder. She removes her sunglasses to stare up at him, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

Aldhelm tucks the mail under his arm. He’s not sure what he’s done to entertain her, but he will no doubt find out before long. “Aelfwynn, hello. What are you doing here?”

The delivery man is still frozen in place, clutching the box to his chest as if he intends to take up permanent residence on the porch. Aldhelm shoots him a sidewise glance and wonders if he will have to forcibly escort him off the premises. He reaches out to accept the box, but the man looks to Aelfwynn as if for permission to release it. Perhaps it’s addressed to a woman. Aldhelm looks for a delivery label—he doesn’t see one.

“I do live here, technically,” Aelfwynn answers good-naturedly as she makes her way up the steps. “Gosh, it’s a nice day.” She gives a friendly smile to the young man with the box, but as she turns back to Aldhelm she furrows her brow.

“Your mother and I thought you were returning tomorrow, that's all,” Aldhelm explains. “Are you expecting a delivery?”

“Delivery?” Aelfwynn asks. “No, we came back a day early. Didn’t think you and Mum would mind.”

“We?” Aldhelm asks.

The man with the box has relaxed slightly now that Aelfwynn is beside him. Aelfwynn’s hand brushes his elbow. The space between them narrows. Ah.

“My apologies,” Aldhelm manages. “I didn’t realise.”

“You’re being so awkward.” Aelfwynn purses her lips. “Are you going to let us in?”

Aldhelm steps back, allowing them to proceed into the house. The young man hesitates on the doorstep until Aelfwynn finds his hand and pulls him in after her.

So they’re that sort of an “us.” Aelfwynn hasn’t brought a boyfriend home before. But it’s inevitable. She’s eighteen, after it. It’s completely normal—good, even. It means she wants them to meet him. That’s more than Aldhelm had expected, if he's honest.

Aelfwynn leaves her bag at the foot of the stairs, but directs the young man to bring the box into the kitchen, where he gently sets it on the counter.

“Your mother isn’t home yet,” Aldhelm says.

“I thought we might beat her here.” Aelfwynn reaches into the refrigerator for a pitcher of water. She pulls two glasses from the cupboard next, and pours a drink for her and her guest.

The young man is smiling, and un-smiling, every few seconds. He seems afraid to make eye contact with Aldhelm, instead he admires his surroundings and nods regularly at nothing in particular.

Aldhelm raises a hand in a commanding fashion, and the young man finally looks towards him. The simple gesture always works in the classroom, and it gratifies Aldhelm to know it works here too. “I’m Aldhelm, Aelfwynn’s step-father.”

“Oh, I know,” the young man replies earnestly, then stops himself abruptly from continuing, looking to Aelfwynn as if he’d said the wrong thing.

“Aldhelm, this is Cynlaef,” Aelfwynn supplies, a proud smile on her face.

“Hello, Cynlaef,” Aldhelm says, his eyes narrowing slightly as he extends his hand. “I assume you know Aelfwynn from university?”

“Yes, sir,” Cynlaef says, smiling eagerly. His handshake is firm—a little too firm. He certainly can’t be accused of not trying.

“Cynlaef’s my boyfriend,” Aelfwynn continues, jumping onto the kitchen counter behind her.

“I see.” Aldhelm raises his eyebrows. “And how long have you two been dating?”

“A few months,” Cynlaef says, gravitating towards Aelfwynn, still clutching his glass of water. “Her cousin Aethelstan’s a friend of mine.”

Aelfwynn rakes her fingers through Cynlaef’s hair in an absentminded fashion. “They’re both on the Rugby team.”

Rugby. Naturally.

Aldhelm smiles. “Cynlaef, would you excuse us for a moment?” He jerks his head towards the next room. Aelfwynn rolls her eyes but hops off the counter and follows.

They proceed into the living area, which serves as office, entertaining space, and the occasional interrogation room. Aldhelm leans against a bookcase. Aelfwynn sinks onto the arm of a reading chair, her expression equally expectant and defiant.

“I assume your mother isn’t aware of Cynlaef,” Aldhelm begins.

“Haven’t mentioned him yet.” Aelfwynn shrugs her shoulder casually. “It’s not a big deal, though, is it?”

Aldhelm briefly presses the bridge of his nose. Aelfwynn’s timing has never been worse, and that was saying something. “No, it's not, but she’s finishing a big case today—“

“Oh.”

“Notice wouldn't have hurt, that’s all,” he continues, keeping his voice as cheerful as he can.

Aelfwynn grimaces up at him. “I didn’t know about the case.”

“Right.” Aldhelm exhales. Aelfwynn and Aethelflaed haven’t talked much recently. Perhaps this is Aelfwynn’s way of making an effort to change that.

“You’re making a face. Are you going to lecture me about healthy relationships or something?” Aelfwynn asks, her expression souring.

“No, I’ll leave that for your mother,” Aldhelm says dryly.

Aelfwynn snorts.

Aldhelm glances back towards the kitchen. Cynlaef is standing exactly where Aelfwynn had left him, staring across the room, face blank. “He seems…”

“He’s really sweet, you’ll like him,” Aelfwynn insists. “And you should come to a match. He’s brilliant.” She crosses and uncrosses her arms. “I hope Mum isn’t too put out. I didn’t want to give her time to overthink it—“

“Well you certainly haven’t done that.”

Aelfwynn wrinkles her nose. “I know, I know. You could have warned me about the case.”

“If I had known I needed to—“

But before they can discuss further, there’s a noise at the front door.

“She’s home early,” Aldhelm says in a low voice, pushing off the bookcase.

“Oh, fuck.” Aelfwynn barrels into the kitchen, Aldhelm on her heels.

Cynlaef turns toward them, wide-eyed, then the door opens and Aethelflaed appears, perfectly composed despite being weighed down by a briefcase, a large tote bag, and a portable file box. She beams at the sight of Aelfwynn, then her smile fades slightly at the sight of Cynlaef—she quickly recovers, of course, and forces a brighter smile, albeit a more artificial one.

Aldhelm crosses towards her and relieves her of her bags and case files, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Aelfwynn’s home early, and she’s brought a guest.”

“I can see that,” Aethelflaed replies, the line between her brow flickering as she searches his face for an answer to her many unspoken questions.

He shakes his head, and she sighs, then turns back towards the young couple.

“Hi, Mum.” Aelfwynn slides towards her, allowing her mother to pull her into a hug. “Sorry to show up early. I thought you’d be happy about it.”

“I am,” Aethelflaed says warmly. “Who’s your friend, darling?”

“Mum, this is Cynlaef,” Aelfwynn says hesitantly. “My boyfriend.”

Cynlaef eagerly extends a hand, which Aethelflaed accepts. “Really nice to meet you. Aelfwynn has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Aethelflaed replies humorously, turning to Aldhelm.

It's then that Aldhelm remembers that he had anticipated a quiet afternoon, and nearly laughs. Aethelflaed narrows her eyes at him. “How was your case?” he asks. He’s sure it went well, based on her mood upon entering, so it seems a safe thing to inquire after.

“Good. Great, even. And we finished early.” She turns back to Aelfwynn. “So…pardon me…how long…”

“Oh, not long,” Aelfwynn says swiftly. “It’s sort of a new thing.” She worries her lower lip. “Not thatnew. I mean…I did want you all to meet. It’s…well…” She trails off, looking to Aldhelm for help.

Aldhelm forces a smile, shrugging apologetically. He has no desire to get caught in the middle of things any more than he already is.

There’s an awkward silence, during which Cynlaef attempts to drink from his now empty glass.

“It’s just a bit of a surprise,” Aethelflaed says, smoothing a hand over her hair. “No offence to the lovely young man, of course.”

Cynlaef appears unsure if this is a compliment or an insult. Aldhelm is again tempted to laugh.

“A nice surprise?” Aelfwynn asks.

Aldhelm lays a hand over his mouth.

“Of course nice,” Aethelflaed replies, her voice taut. “Well…I suppose it’s good we’ll get to know you, Cynlaef. I had thought we’d have Aelfwynn to ourselves for the week, but—“

“Actually, we’re going up to see Cynlaef's parents in Daresbury on Wednesday,” Aelfwynn says. “But we have until then. That’s loads of time.”

“Right.” Aethelflaed presses her lips together. “I suppose it would have been too much to expect a phone call with that change of plans either.”

Aelfwynn rolls her eyes. “It’s not the end of the world, Mum—“

“In no way did I imply it was—“

“You’re totally overreacting—“

“Aelfwynn, let’s not argue—“

“It’s really not a big deal!” Aelfwynn huffs. “Aldhelm was totally cool about it, why can’t you be?”

Aethelflaed shoots Aldhelm a look of latent irritation. Cynlaef has done his best to become one with the refrigerator. Aelfwynn has her hands on her hips, a stance Aldhelm has become quite familiar with the past few years.

“Oh!” Cynlaef suddenly springs forward. “I forgot about the gifts.” He opens the box he’d left on the countertop and pulls out a series of handmade mugs one by one, each one slightly more irregular in appearance than the last. When he’s finished, he gestures to the collection with a broad smile. “I made them in my ceramics class. Didn’t expect to like it, but it was a lot of fun, actually. Not too bad, right?”

Aethelflaed stares, her mouth slightly open.

“Isn’t that thoughtful?” Aelfwynn says, smiling up at Cynlaef. He grins down at her.

“So very thoughtful, Cynlaef,” Aethelflaed replies in clipped tones, gingerly picking up one of the vessels. “I’m not sure where we’ll store such a wonderful assortment—“

“Oh, there’s room in the cupboard, I checked,” Cynlaef says helpfully.

Aethelflaed blinks rapidly. “What foresight.”

Aelfwynn groans quietly.

Aldhelm clears his throat. “Right. I’ll make some tea, shall I?”

#the last kingdom #tlk fic #aethelflaed x aldhelm #aelfwynn x cynlaef #tlk modern au #kat writes #prompts #this was not in fact a drabble ooops

[phdmama]

How does 41 and 79 for Drarry strike you?

It strikes me quite nicely thank you!!! xox

41 and 79: First Kiss & Anger Born of Worry

I hope it suits you!! (I'll probably cross-post this to AO3 tomorrow)

This also happens to fit with the current @drarrymicrofic prompt: Dust/Ash

And clearly, I'm just terrible at following directions all around! It's not 50 words, and it's not a description of what I'd write.

(Drarry, 789 words, Teen, some mention of the aftermath of violence)

Draco’s not looking his best.

He’s got something, dust or ashes, smudged all over his face, and underneath, Harry can see the purpling knot of a bruise forming on his right cheek. Draco’s sleeve has been torn clean from his jumper, there are claw marks down one arm, and he’s holding his body in such a way that suggests cracked ribs. He looks exhausted, even as he stands tall in the midst of the chaos that surrounds them, shouting orders and directing the team to where he needs them.

Harry can’t decide if he wants to kiss him or punch him. Probably both.

Harry has deliberately positioned himself outside of punching range, just in case. He also doesn’t doubt that if he comes in swinging, Draco will take him down.

He’s done it before, Harry thinks fondly.

Draco looks, Harry thinks, exactly like who and what he is — a powerful wizard, one of the best Aurors in the DMLE, and a man who’d just completely ignored the fucking intel to apparate straight into an ambush, nearly getting them all killed. That he’d saved fourteen lives and managed to apprehend the bad guys is incidental in Harry’s mind.

Yeah, Harry is pretty sure he’s going to punch him.

There’s a lull in the activity swirling about Draco, and Harry makes his move, walking calmly up to Draco. Harry is taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth like Luna has them do in yoga, and he’s trying to unclench his jaw.

He is unsuccessful.

“You are a fucking idiot,” he snarls, getting right in Draco’s face.

“I was right,” Draco snarls back immediately.

Harry can see people around them slowing down to watch the fireworks, and he can’t say he blames them. He and Draco have been partners for years now, and their fights are legendary. It’s an unconventional pairing to be sure, and Ron had worried in the beginning that they’d hex each other into an early grave, but they’ve managed to work it out. They’re the best team in the department, and have the highest solve rate in thirty years.

Harry’s also been head over heels in love with Draco for as long as they’ve been partners, but Harry prefers not to think about that situation.

“You ignored every single piece of intel,” Harry continues, ignoring Draco’s glare. “You didn’t alert the backup team, and you fucking left me a note.” He shakes his head, wondering how to get through to Draco. “We’re partners, Draco. You cannot just do this. What if I hadn’t seen it?”

“I knew you’d see it,” Draco interrupts. “You always go for a cuppa in the afternoon. And I didn’t ignore all the intel. I listened to Carl. His info is almost always good.”

“You apparated,” Harry says through tightly clenched teeth, “into an ambush. You could have been killed, Draco. Don’t you get it?”

“It was worth it,” Draco insists. “They were moving the hostages, Harry. If Carl was right, and he was, we had no time.”

“You could have been killed,” Harry roars. “That barricade was two seconds away from falling, and then those spells? Those Incendios? Those would have hit you, Draco.”

“All right,” Draco concedes, “It was a bit close, but I knew you’d find the note. I knew you’d get here in time.”

“What if I hadn’t?” Harry whispers, closing his eyes against the remembered rush of terror. “Draco, what if I’d been too late?”

To his horror, Harry feels his eyes well up, so he resolutely keeps them closed, pressing his lips together to keep from saying too much. He feels the brush of Draco’s body as he moves closer.

“You weren’t, though,” Draco says quietly, and Harry aches with how much he loves him. “You always have my back, Harry.” There’s a long moment where they’re both silent and then Harry feels it, Draco’s hand gently touching his face. “Can you look at me?”

“No,” Harry says, his voice breaking. “I really can’t.”

“Harry,” Draco says even more quietly, and oh, there’s something in his voice. Something new in the way he says Harry’s name. “Just. Open your eyes. Please.”

It’s the please that does it. Harry takes a deep breath, gathers his courage, and opens his eyes.

Draco is standing so close, Harry imagines he can feel the heat of Draco’s body. Draco’s hand is resting on Harry’s cheek, and his eyes are studying Harry, his gaze solemn. He searches Harry’s face, and whatever he’s looking for, Harry guesses he finds it, because then Draco smiles. It’s a small smile, dusty around the edges, and his lip’s bleeding, but he’s here, and he’s smiling at Harry.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Potter,” Draco says, and kisses him.

#my writing #fanfic trope mashup #drarrymicrofic #not really a micro fic #gratuitous use of italics

[glimmerglanger]

Back Up Again (5/5)

Progress on the New Year WIP Clean Out Fest!

I posted the last part of the Obikin MMA AU, "Back Up Again," on ao3. Ended up being a fade to black situation, so I adjusted the rating accordingly.

One more never-going-to-be-finished-how-I-wanted WIP to post, I'll probably do that tomorrow. Probably on ao3, since it's 13k long.

#obikin #my writing #the mma au #new years wip clean out #very much recommend it's been a great relief

[mesangelique]

Part 1/2 of a story with a pairing no one requested : JOHN MARSTON/KIERAN DUFFY (I will post it on AO3 tomorrow)

Rating : R / 18+

Warning : alcohol, drunk sex, SMUT (but not in this part)

Thanks to @bluesilksilverspurs for the beta reading 🤠, I hope you will give this pairing a chance and like this first part ~

It's been a long day, an exhausting one. Arthur, John, Bill and Kieran went to Six Points cabin, hoping to find Colm O'Driscoll, but they found nothing spare a little cash, and Arthur's life had been saved by the « ex O'Driscoll boy » - otherwise known as Kieran Duffy. In doing so, Kieran had earned the right to be able to stay with the gang like any other member, doing chores and taking care of horses. Oh, he is well aware he won’t be able to disappear for days on end as Arthur or Micah do, but at least he won’t be tied to that tree anymore.

 

 When the group got back to the camp and were explaining to Dutch what had happened, Lenny had arrived, panting, terrified, babbling about Micah waiting to be hung in Strawberry’s jail. At that point, Dutch suggested Arthur take Lenny into Valentine to relax a little, and now, hours later, John noticed he himself was drunk as he stood up from the stool in the saloon. The world started to turn around as if he was on a roller coaster, but all he managed to do was order another drink.

 

 Arthur and Lenny had the great idea to invite John and Kieran to their little "having only one drink” thing. John was invited because he was standing there when Dutch suggested the outing, and Kieran mostly because that kid saved Mister Morgan's life - and desperately needed a bath. Hosea had also told Arthur that they had to accept him in the gang. John didn’t care much for stuff like that as long as this O’Driscoll was getting a good wash first.

 

 And speaking of the O'Driscoll boy - he had just taken a whiskey and sat right next to John, drinking thirstily straight from the bottle. John couldn't help but look at him, squinting his eyes. Now that he was clean, smelling of soap and tobacco instead of horseshit and piss, with his hair framing his thin face, he was not THAT disgusting… Actually, it was maybe the first time John was really looking at him; at his thin beard, his worried dark green eyes, his nose. John frowned. He shouldn’t be looking at him like that. But he was drunk.

 

 Yes, that's why.

 

 "Think ye can drink better than me, O'Driscoll boy?" He chuckled deeply, his laugh raspy like his voice. He didn't have to find anything else to say to have Kieran looking at him with his scared deer eyes, a rabbit about to run for his dear life. "C'mere I'll show ya how WE drink."

 

 Not giving him time to answer, he grabbed Kieran's whiskey bottle and brought it to his lips, taking big gulps, the whisky running right down his throat, burning and warming him up, and once he had run out of breath he handed the bottle back. John had to admit he was quite proud of his performance - he didn't choke or end up coughing.

 

 "Dare you to do better than that. O'Driscoll." He whispered, leaning a bit towards Kieran, smirking arrogantly. Why was he like this suddenly? Why did he suddenly want to impress that O'Driscoll boy? Ah yes, he was drunk, maybe he didn’t have to search further for a reason, maybe …

 

 Kieran’s eyes were wide, seeing his bottle being stolen like that. He was already tipsy, so he didn’t react like he normally would. Actually, he had been focusing on John Adam’s apple, the way it had bobbed up and down as he swallowed the alcohol… That ride earlier, where his body was fully pressed against the other man’s had made him look at John Marston differently.

 

 And here, now, he was mostly drunk, and his initial shyness was gone. He was just chuckling, cheeks red like a teenager, a happy one, the one he never was. Being alone like this with John should be quite embarrassing, to be honest, and at first he had been afraid. But now... John was so drunk he probably wouldn’t be able to walk straight. He was giggling and evidently really proud of his drinking performance.

 "Gimme that- you'll see I can!" Kieran retorted, reacting to John’s arrogant smirk and trying to avoid looking too long at the man’s lips and at that drop of whisky on his neck. Without much more thought, he took the bottle and emptied it. A delicious burning sensation in his throat, his head feeling so light he could float. All his anxiety, all his problems just drowned in the liquor, and so he laughed, pushing the bottle away, proudly looking at the other man.

 "Ah ah! See Marston? Was able to follow you on this!" Kieran chuckled, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows (or trying to do so at least). He closed his eyes for a few seconds and suddenly, a hot wave was spreading all over his body, thickening his saliva. Now he was looking at John, at his dirty hair, his three days old beard, his scars … How fascinating are these scars, how marvellous they are … That very one on his lips.

 "Pheeew, it’s so hot in here." The ex-O’Driscoll breathed out, looking at the ceiling, taking his dust coat off. He felt like he was on fire right now. He would love to jump naked in some river... or in some horse's trough. His cheeks were red and burning, and he could almost feel sweat droplets forming on the back of his neck. He continued, "So hot in here…. So, what we doin' now – ya know, since I finished the bottle" Kieran chuckled, trying to get rid of his neckerchief.

 

 Oh he is a mess, a fucking mess right now, unable to talk properly, babbling shitty stuff that is ricocheting about in his head. He must be mad - drinking that whole bottle hadn’t really been a good idea. Even if he thought it had impressed John… John had watched him emptying the bottle, mesmerized, in fact, by the sight of that boy drinking like he hadn't drank in days.

 

 "Ain'tcha a thirsty one, eh?" John had given a husky laugh when Kieran lowered the empty bottle and then started whining about the temperature. He can feel a warm feeling in his groin, spreading up his spine right now, and it is making him feel like he is burning too. That very same feeling he has when a pretty lady walks by and he pulls her onto his lap. The only problem is that he ain't looking at a pretty lady right now. He is looking at a very drunk O'Driscoll boy. Well, an ex-O’Driscoll boy. He is looking at Mister Duffy. Kieran. Kieran Duffy. What kind of a fool is he, John Marston, to be looking at a guy like this? The last time it happened was a decade ago. But he is drunk tonight, so that must be why. That’s obviously why.

 

 "I suppose you're pretty hot now what with all that booze you've been drinkin'. C'mon, let's get out of here and take some air" John grumbled, pushing away from the counter and bumping into some tables before finally making it to the back door. He opened it roughly, almost knocking an old man backwards while doing so. John could hear Kieran behind him, trying to act naturally, as if they hadn’t just been drinking like two sailors, and as he held the door open for him, he was able to clearly see that Kieran was having a hard time even walking straight.

 

 As Kieran drew level with John, he even tripped, and although John did not know how, or why, his reflex was to react fast, fast enough to grab him. The amount of alcohol in his own blood was sapping away at his strength though and ultimately he found himself pinning Kieran against the nearest wall with the weight of his whole body, his hands on each side of Kieran’s head and his face almost buried in his neck. His body felt spineless and he was suddenly very tired. Both of them were giggling like teenagers after their first beer. He couldn’t even feel his legs anymore. In fact, neither of them could feel their legs right now.

 

After almost collapsing on at least three occasions, they were both outside proper now. Navigating the tiny step outside of the saloon almost pitched both of them over, which was no surprise at all seeing as how drunk they were, but now they were here, leaning against another wall. How did they even make it this far? No one will ever know.

 

"You alright?" John asked in a thick voice, their noses nearly touching. They are close. Really, really close. Kieran can feel every piece of the wood behind him snagging on his shirt and scratching his back, he can feel how muddy the ground is, how cold the air is but how hot he feels, like he is burning inside. He tried to focus on everything but their sudden closeness. Because the problem is the ex-O’Driscoll is far more into men than the church wants him to be, than society wants him to be – it’s a problem he has known about for a long time, and has tried to hide for even longer… people get hanged for it. Kieran could hear his heart in his ears, his blood pumping roughly, and his lungs running out of air, his tongue heavy in his mouth but most importantly that warmth waking up in his lower belly, spreading in his groin, curling up his spine. Having John Marston, drunk, his nose almost against his, his body flush against him... He swallowed thickly, looking at John’s lips as though hypnotised, and managed to nod, his green, greyish eyes glancing over John’s scars.

 

"Y-es. 'Am alright, Mister." He whispers.

 

 John's breathing was suddenly deep and fast. He could feel Kieran's warmth mixing with his own. Strangely, he didn’t mind. He knew damn well he was already growing hard, mostly because of the  alcohol, of course. He always got so horny when he started getting drunk, so the fact that it was Kieran and not another cheap whore isn’t so surprising, right? The fact that he found Kieran’s eyes fascinating and his lips kissable right now, and his so thin, fragile collarbone beautiful – that was just the alcohol. This closeness wasn’t helping, creating friction on his - their - cock under his – their - pants, having him - them - hum deeply, both acting like they did not hear or feel the other.

 

"Yea? That's good then. Yea."

 

 There was a silence then when John met Kieran's eyes, and his mind was filled up with dark fantasy and desire and want and that need of possession. He rarely felt that with a girl, that possessiveness rising. But he had really drank a lot tonight, they both had really drank a lot, and Kieran looked like a lamb waiting for a wolf to eat him.

 

 "Thought you were hot? Gotta do something about that, right?" John whispered thickly, lowering his eyes to Kieran's throat, almost able to hear his thundering beating heart when his hands went to the collar of his shirt and started working on the buttons. The alcohol doesn’t help his fingers at all, but he was slipping one button free and then another…

 

"Yeah- I'm… I'm hot - but w...whatabout you ?" Kieran whispered back, trying to keep his voice steady, but freezing immediately, unsure. He could feel John’s hands on his shirt, feel his fingers working on opening it – the way his breath was coming quicker and his eyes had grown significantly darker. Kieran couldn’t help but bite his lip, and couldn’t decide if he hoped John would notice it or not, the way he himself has noticed John’s hooded lustful gaze and the way he is staring at his face, his neck.

#rdr2 #van der linde gang #read dead redemption 2 #kieran duffy #odriscoll #john marston #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #bill williamson #johnxkieran #Marffy? #i need to find this relationship a name #Duston? #rdr2 fanfic

[satanschild01]

No All Might? That’s Alright Prt3

Izuku Midoriya Fanfiction                                                          

A/N: In all honesty this took me way too long just to finish writing this chapter, but I pushed through so I guess it’s fine. I’ve created a AO3 account recently and I’ve posted all of my previous fanfictions there so if you want to check me out, you can find me as SatansChild

Hope you all stay safe and wear a mask if you can't physically distance.Hope to update soon!

Catch you on the flip side ~ Em

Photo used in this fic was referenced from original picture from anime, I did draw this photo jtlyk

Tags:

@random-fandom-girl-24

Tags for some wonderful feedback😘: @trashys-things @pink-imagines @marvelmymarvel @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @spaced-out-imagines​ @marvelmymarvelmain @writingfreakk

Trigger warning: Talk about death

Word Count: 2633

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3

After making sure all of the blood was no longer on his uniform, Closing his eyes, Izuku steeled himself to walk into the All Might shrine that was his room. Sure, he still wanted to be a hero, and he admired All Might’s strength, but he couldn’t stand to be surrounded by posters and figurines of a man who couldn’t offer any sort of encouragement to a child who clearly needed it. Izuku pulled some cardboard boxes out from his closet and started filling them with everything All Might. Oboro didn’t make a sound during the time he cleaned out his room, which he was grateful for. Even though he could just feel Oboro wanting to ask questions. 

“So what are you going to do about all this stuff?” Oboro asked as Izuku changed his All Might sheets with regular black ones “You seem like such a big fan...it just seems like a waste just to keep it all in boxes.”

Izuku shrugged his shoulders.”I’m not much of a fan anymore.” he lied to mostly himself rather than to Oboro, “I guess I’ll just donate the stuff later.” Once his walls were finally bare, Izuku stuffed the now full boxes to the back of his closet and flopped onto his bed. The room stayed silent for a moment until Izuku broke the ice, “I don’t want to intrude on your personal life…but can you tell me about yourself?” he asked

“Well for the fact that I witnessed and helped you with some pretty deep stuff, it sorta would be rude if I didn’t tell you something about my previous life,” Oboro said cheekily

“H-how long have you been...you know…” Izuku paused not really wanting to complete the question.

“...dead?” Izuku nodded “I was in my second year of high school when I died and I would be 29 by now so...close to 12 years I think?”  Izuku sat there on his bed frozen

‘12 years is a long time to be a ghost or spirit to not have passed on, that is if people actually pass onto another place once they die’ Izuku thought to himself

“I was patrolling around Tasomiya Ward with one of my best friends when there was a villain attack...I was working on saving some kids when debris fell on top of me...when I woke up I was like how I am now, I couldn’t find my body anywhere so I just...travelled around…” Oboro seemed to quiet down at mentioning that he never found his body to move onto another life, so Izuku thought of ways to change the current mood of the room.

“So you were a hero in training or something?” he asked, face full of wonder, Oboro hummed in affirmation “What school did you go to?”

“I went to U.A”

“Wait really?!” Izuku exclaimed excitedly, “that's so cool!”

They continued talking and asking questions back and forth, before falling into a comfortable silence. A few minutes past before Izuku took a deep breath

“I...I’m sorry,” Izuku said quietly, slowly curling into himself

"Why would you be sorry kid?" Oboro’s voice was full of confusion. But Izuku only curled in on himself further.

"If it wasn't for me you wouldn't be stuck here." As if anyone wanted to be bound to some stupid Deku...like him. And here he thought it was a whole coincidence that Oboro was with him. But instead, he just took whatever type of freedom he had to begin with.

"Hey, no! Stop that. Izuku that's not true! I'm here because I want to be!" The warmth spread all over him and he couldn't help but lean into it. “I said I'd make a hero out of you and I still plan on it."

Izuku looked up only to see the ceiling of his room, lifting his arm up to the sky and let it just float there (like what every kid does while laying on there bed contemplating on what to do next). "I wish I could see you again."

Oboro hummed. Seeming to think something through. "I don’t think there’s much out there since I was only a second-year when I died, but there could be some photos of me with friends or an article"

Izuku seemed to take that as a challenge as he went to his computer. "What did you choose to be your hero name?"

"Loud Cloud."

After scouring the web for a couple of minutes nothing showed up except for an old article from the Nikkei Shimbun newspaper, reporting the death of hero-in-training Loud Cloud. Izuku quickly exited that site choosing to search for something different. “What’s your full name Oboro?”

“Oh that’s right I didn’t tell you my full name, it is Oboro Shirakumo” Oboro replied

“Oboroshirikumo...oboroshirikumooo….here!” Izuku exclaimed pointing at the monitor’s screen. “This photo was tagged saying ‘Curry eating competition at U.A’s School Festival. Winner Hizashi Yamada from class 2-A!’ it also says the names of the people in the photo are; Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, and Oboro Shirakumo.” 

“Oh, I remember that!” Oboro cried out laughing “The curry was soo spicy I was freaking out because I couldn’t find anything to soothe my burning throat!”

“So that’s you in the back then?” Izuku asked pointing towards a teenager who seems to be freaking out.

Oboro chuckles “Yep, the other two were my best friends!”

“Yamada looks sorta familiar what’s his hero name?” Izukku asked, curious on why the 16-year-old looked so familiar to him

“Unless he changed it before becoming a pro, which he probably would not, his hero name is Present Mic.” 

Izuku sputtered “W-wait you were close friends with THE Present Mic?!” Oboro hummed in agreement while Izuku had his miny freak out “

“Oh my god that is socool!Ilistentohisradioshoweveryday,andhe’ssuchanamazinghero,likeevenifheisdeafduetohisquirkhedoesn’tletitbotherhiman-” He stopped hearing the sound of laughter coming around his room and his lamp flickering

"Aw jeez, that’s amazing Hizashi got to get that radio show he wanted." There was a quick blast of warmth flooding around his back and chest resembling a hug. "Well anyway, you should probably head to bed. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow and a long way to go before you can have a chance at being accepted into UA!"

"What are you going to do while I sleep?" Izuku asked, eyes slowly drooping.

"I'm going to see how far I can go without being next to you, and have a look around and exploring a bit. No need to worry. I'll make sure to be careful and be here in the morning." He seemed to pick up on his anxieties. Izuku felt warmth as Oboro slowly pet his hair back. "Goodnight, Izuku." 

The next morning Izuku woke up to warmth pulsing on his right cheek. "Hey kid it’s time to get up! You have training to do! Up and at ‘em!" Oboro’s voice was overly joyful and Izuku felt very unwilling to get out of bed.

"Mm...just a bit longeeeer." He groaned turning himself over facing away from where he guesses Oboro is standing (floating?).

"Fair warning Izuku my jokes are terrible, everyone at school would always runaway once I started and I haven’t been able to talk to actual people in so long! If spaghetti were to have it’s own action movie, what would it be called?.... Mission im-pasta-ble. What did the pot eat on it’s birthday?....pancakes. What do you call a camel in a drought?....A dry hu- "

Finally, Izuku jerked up, covering his ears. “Okay. Okay, I’m up! No need to finish that.” His face started to burn a light pink across his face, (knowing what the end of the joke was) as he started to kick the blankets off only to turn towards the window and see barely any light outside. "Wha- Oboro!! The sun isn’t even out yet!"

He turned glaring into thin air hoping to make contact with him.

"Yes, it is, Izu. It's just reeeally early in the morning. There is plenty of time for you to get ready and eat before we go out for a morning run!" He was being weirdly energetic about the whole ordeal, but Izuku knew he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Heading to the bathroom, Izuku ran a brush through his wild curly hair and brushed his teeth. Going back to his room, Obroro pipped up. "It's a bit cool outside so I suggest you wear some long sleeves."

The entire way to his closet Izuku muttered incoherent things. In the end, he opted to wear a plain black shorts and a long-sleeved shirt with written kanji saying 'tank-top' with his old dusty sneakers because his red sneakers were still on top of the roof.

Before heading out Izuku ate some toast and an orange. If he got hungry later on their run he could always eat more when they got back. As Izulu started to leave the apartment Izuku tripped over an unmarked box that was just left in front of the door.

"Ooo I wonder what it is!” Oboro seemed quite enthusiastic as Izuku went to open the box revealing his faded red shoes and yellow backpack.

"Wai-how-who found my stuff?" Izuku asked immediately putting the bag by the door and quickly changing between uncomfortable and comfortable shoes.

"I don’t know, when I got back from wandering around the package was just...there."

"Maybe someone found it and found out where I live from my contact info and address was written inside…?” Izuku wondered out loud.

“I guess so,” Oboro said looking to the bright sight of things.

‘But what if it was...All Might. Yeah, I’m glad that I don’t have to go back up there to collect my things but...I don’t want to have to depend on All Might to help me with my own problems.’

“Hey don’t think like that Izu! I know you’re not a huge fan of the guy, but you don’t have to beat yourself down like that. I know you’re better than that” Oboro spoke sternly trying to make a point, but that soon backfired as warmth spread through his body.

“Hold up- could you always hear my thoughts?” Izuku questioned as he started to jog away from the apartment.

“So far I can heat some things. Like your thoughts that way heavily on you emotionally. But it could possibly work to talk to me through your mind. So you don’t look like a freak talking to themselves.” Oboro quickly informs Izuku as to not worry him.

Sighed Izuku. That was true. Though he kept thinking about it as he jogged. As they passed Dagobah Municipal Beach, the sun had started to rise. Taking in a deep breath was the wrong reason as Izuku cringed from the awful smell of garbage. Despite the smell, Izuku took a break, taking a seat at the entrance.

"Oh gross. What is this place?" Oboro asked with a clear sound of disgust in his voice.

"Well," Izuku started."This is Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. It has accumulated trash coming from the sea for years, turning it from a beautiful beach spot into a trash heap for everyone's unwanted or broken belongings." It was really a shame. As a kid, Izuku recalled going to the beach. Lie under a beach umbrella, making sandcastles. But by the time he was tall enough into the water, it was already flooded with trash by then.

"That's terrible." Oboro seemed deeply upset about this actually. It made Izuku want to do something about it. But before Izuku could voice his thoughts Oboro spoke up.

“Hey Izu, could we make a quick visit to a convenience store?”

“Sure...what exactly do you want me to get?” Izuku asked, despite having an idea what Oboro was thinking.

“Well...you’re going to need to get some garbage bags and some gloves.”

Izuku then dashed towards the nearest convenience store with determination in his eyes. A frail-looking lady turned the key to open the doors as he walked by. Causing her to recoil in slight shock, Izuku realized that with his rapid approach he had frightened her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'd just come to purchase some garbage bags and some gloves.

The older woman seemed to soften something about his face as she smiled and opened his door. "Sure thing, they’re both in the last aisle on your right."

Before she went inside, Izuku thanked her and smiled back. He quickly found what he was looking for and brought a box of trash bags and a pair of workers gloves onto the counter.

"What's the hurry, son? Why do you need trash bags this early in the morning? You aren't trying to cause trouble are you?" the old woman pointed to Izuku with an accusing finger, and he shook his head quickly.

"Oh no, ma'am! I thought that I could just try and clean the beach up! I passed it while I was on my morning run!" Izuku assured, voicing Oboro’s plan

At this, the elder woman gently smiles while scanning the items. “Wow, is that right?” she said astonished, “ You know how long that place has been a mess? What makes you believe you can do it all by yourself?"

Her words weren't really painful, she was just being realistic. He knew she was right. He certainly had no obligation to clean up the beach. He could have just ignored it and easily went about his day. But he knew if he wanted to be a hero then he would need to start off the roots of how heroes came to be. How they used to work. Heroes in the beginning didn’t do what they did for fame. No. They didn’t care for the recognition they would get. They did it because they just wanted to help.

“That’s the thing, ma’am. I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s also a great way to work out, instead of having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership!” Izuku brightly smiles towards the lady as he handed her the money to buy his items.

“Well, I wish you luck, kid. I’m guessing that you’ll need a place to put the trash you collect.” She stated, Izuku smiling sheepishly at her rubbing the back of his head she continued, “There are two dumpsters in the alley behind the store, they get taken every Monday.”

"Thank you, ma'am!" Izuku said genuinely as he headed for the door. He didn't think too much about how he would dispose of the garbage, so it was good to have one offered.

Oboro began to laugh as Izuku jogged back towards the beach. "Cheaper than having to buy workout equipment or get a gym membership! Man, how true that is nowadays!”

The first garbage bags were packed very quickly. broken bottles, cans of beer, old and rotting newspaper, all of it was poured into the trash bag. Plastic, paper, glass, etc. Izuku could take them to a recycling center! He was already pumped about this new project when Oboro spoke up.

“Hey, Izu, before you toss that into the bag” placing his hand on Izuku’s making him feel warmth blossom closest to the soda, can packaging he was holding in that hand. “make sure you cut each circle so if they end up in wildlife again then animals won’t get their heads stuck inside.”

Izuku's eyes lit up as he started to tear apart each loop before placing it in one of the bags used for recycling. Soon Izuku had used up a quarter of the box of trash bags gone and only had 6x5 feet rectangle cleared of the beach.

#mha #bnha #midoriya izuku #oboro shirakumo #mha midoriya #bnha midoriya #mha izuku #bnha izuku #mha midoriya izuku #bnha midoriya izuku #mha izuku midoriya #bnha izuku midoriya #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha oboro shirikumo #bnha oboro shirikumo #mha shirikumo #bnha shirikumo #mha shirikumo oboro #bnha shirikumo oboro #mha oboro #bnha oboro

[permanently-exhausted-bitch]

The Beacon Activation

Also available here on AO3

Thank you @dapandapod for helping me figure this out!

RATING: Mature

PAIRINGS: Geralt/Jaskier, Geralt & Cirilla, Geralt & All Other Witchers

SUMMERY: Unknown to humans, the witchers have a what's known as a Beacon. The beacon is activated when something comes up that needs all witchers from all schools to stand together. It has never had to be used. Until now.

The Beacon is activated. The witchers are coming for their swallow.

It was secret to all surviving witchers of the sackings that a spell could be activated and witchers from all schools would come together in an emergency. So when Cirilla was kidnapped by Nilfgaurd, Geralt decided to use The Beacon. 

No one but Geralt and Eskel knew that Geralt was a very powerful mage as well. Many witchers thought Geralt's lack of powerful signs was a side effect of the extra mutations but that wasn't true. He kept them weak to not hint off that he's a powerful mage.

So, when Geralt felt Cirilla's tracking spell activate in Nilfgaurd, Geralt opens a portal close to where he scensed Eskel. To his luck, Eskel was drinking with Lambert. Geralt stepped out of the portal to see he was just outside of a town.

"Come on, Roach. Let's go see Eskel and Lambert. I can hear them in the tavern." Geralt mutters and spurs Roach forward. He arrives then to the post outside then goes inside.

"Another witcher! What brings the majestic White Wolf to these parts." The barman asked curiously.

"I'm here for my brothers." Geralt said before walking past him to greet Eskel and Lambert who had stood up. Geralt pulled Eskel into his arms and pressed his nose against his neck.

"Geralt's what's the matter?" Eskel asked worriedly.

"Nilfgaurd has the pup. I came to get you both so we could activate The Beacon. I'm sure we don't need the backup but I'm sure the others from the other schools will want a piece of the army that took our Swallow." Geralt said quietly. Eskel nods but Lambert looks at Geralt in confusion.

"How are we gonna activate it? Will Yennefer help us? The beacon was made when mages still resided in Kaer Morhen. None of us, except maybe Eskel, has that kind of power." Lambert said quietly. Eskel looks at Geralt who sighs and nods.

"There's something Eskel and I should probably tell you. Follow me." Geralt said nervously, before leading them out to the horse post. 

They got their horses and Geralt led them to a clearing where Geralt sighed and looked at Lambert.

"So, Lambert, there's something you should probably know about me. Before I say anything, I just- please don't think I didn't tell you because I don't trust you or love you. I haven't even told Vesemir. Eskel and Yennefer are the only ones that know and Yen only knows because she read my mind. Eskel helped me through it as children. Jaskier doesn't know, Cirilla doesn't know although she might be able to sense it, even if she doesn't know what it means. Anyway, I just don't like people being afraid of me or see me as less than a witcher. I-" Geralt started to ramble but was cut off by Lambert's hand over his mouth.

"Geralt, I know you like dick. It's fine. Just get to the point." Lambert said tiredly.

"It's not that. This is probably more that that. Truth is, I'm not just a witcher, I'm also a very powerful mage. My birth mother was a sorceress. I got that gift. My signs are even stronger than Eskel's but I always toned them down during training so I wouldn't be taken back again for more experiments. If they knew I could move things with my mind, they would have tried to take me for a third round. They would have tried to figure out how to recreate my powers in other witchers and more boys would have been subjected to experiments. I couldn't let that happen to them and especially you. I read their minds. They were going to try and take Eskel back for more experiments. I used a very powerful Axii that they had no hope of overcoming and made them forget about their plans for him. I used Axii on 5 different Master witchers at the same time, Lambert, I broke through their walls in seconds. I had them all under my spell and they never knew it. And I was 15." Geralt said quietly, looking down at his hands as he levitated a dagger in front of him before flipping it with his mind and sends it soaring across the clearing and into a tree, only for it to reappear in his hands a second later.

"Fuck. So you didn't tell them so Eskel and I wouldn't go through the extra trials? If that's the reason, why would you have kept this from me? Geralt, you saved my life, and Eskel's." Lambert said quietly before moving his horse over to Geralt's and pulled Geralt to him in as much of a hug as he could manage.

"I was scared." Geralt said quietly before hugging Lambert back. After a few second, Lambert pulled back with a determine look.

"Come on, let's go save our little pup." Lambert said, making Geralt nod with a chuckle while he opened a portal to the Kaer Morhen gates.

Inside, Lambert goes and gets Vesemir while Geralt goes to the beacon room while Eskel stables the horses.

Inside the Beacon room, Geralt familiarizes himself with the equipment and when the others arrive they see Geralt standing in the room with his arms outstretched and a potatent smell of ozone as they all felt the chaos pulsing from him.

While Chanting in elder, Geralt puts one hand on a stone and the other stretched out in front of him before suddenly they see all their medallions lifting up.and Geralt's face appears above them in a cloud of magic mist.

"My witchers brethren of all schools,  I have activated the Beacon in a plea to help us wolves rescue our little cirllia. Nilfgaurd has taken my daughter, your niece. I ask you all to aid me in storming the gates of Nilfgaurd to save our Swallow and to teach the kingdoms of the continent why they wouldn't go after someone who is under the witchers' protection. So, whose with us?" Geralt asked with a smirk. Using the chaos surrounding them all he hears almost 50 witchers respond with enthusiastic agreement.

"I thank you. I will open a portal to Kaer Morhen courtyard for all of you. We'll discuss our strategy here." Geralt said before taking a deep breath and looking at Eskel.

"Eskel, place your hand on my shoulder. I just need a little more energy. Lambert can you go get the dining room cleared out for about 50 witchers and Vesemir, can you fo get the gate open. I'm going to open the portals to the outside of the gates. Then have a few witchers go hunting so we have some food for tonight and tomorrow.  I'm gonna start opening portals but I'm running out of energy. If I pass out, just lay me down somewhere I'll only take a few hours and a good meal to regain strength." Geralt said tiredly as he lets out another pulse of chaos as Eskel crowds in front of him and presses their foreheads together. Eskel closes his eyes and presses his hand to Geralt's cheek and hip.

While Lambert goes to the dining room Vesemir walks out to the gates to see a single portal open and witchers come out in groups. Vesemir waits until the portal closes and then looks around ar the group.

"Coen, Adian, Terrent, Gabriel, can you please go hunt for our dinner? this is a very unexpected gathering and we don't have enough supplies. The rest of you, follow me, show you to dining room the barracks. Most of our rooms are unusable so you'll all have to sleep where the apprentices used too. I apologize for the state of the keep, us wolves try and keep it as clean and safe as we can but with only 4 of us, it's difficult. All of you are free to uar the courtyard and training equipment if you please during your stay." Vesemir said as he guided the group inside.

Eskel walked in with a semi-conscious Geralt hanging off him. Eskel sits Geralt down and sits beside him then lets Geralt lay down. Once Geralt was asleep in Eskel's lap, Letho speaks up.

 

"So, I think I can speak for all of us and ask how the fuck Geralt was able active the Beacon and portal us all here?" 

Eskel brushes his hand through Geralt's hair and looks at the group of witchers who have settled themselves around the room.

"Geralt's birth mother, Visenna, is a sorceress. Geralt has alway been a mage and mutations just made the connection to chaos stronger." Eskel said before looking at Vesemir.

"He said he kept it a secret because the Masters who did the experimental trials figured out that my signs are stronger and was planning on bringing me back for extra trials. So at age 15, he heard their plans and put 5 Master witchers under Axii at the same time and made them forget about their plans for me. He saw the future in one of his dreams, He saved mine and many other witchers' lives, including Lambert's." Eskel said nervously. Vesemir looks at Geralt in shock and pride, however before he could say anything, four other witchers walk in with 5 large elk. 

"We got dinner!!" Aiden cheered!

 

Later that night, over dinner, the witchers worked over the strategy for their invasion and rescue. And once, the plan was in place, the witchers sharpened their blades and looked to Geralt who was now fully energized again and was fully armoured. All the witchers then make their way out to the stables 

"Brothers, Nilgaurd has mages so I can't risk portaling straight into the castle but I can let us off a couple hours ride away. Let's go get our Swallow!" Geralt yelled, making everyone raise their swords and roar in agreement.

Geralt opened a portal and kicks Roach into a gallop and lead the witchers out of Kaer Morhen.

Pasty, as old as she was, had seen a lot in her long life. She had lost her husband and her sons to her Emperor's conquest for land and power, so she hoped and prayed that the war would end soon. She didn't realize that her prayers would be answered mere hours later. Patsy was tending to her little shop when suddenly the ground started to shake. 

The villagers around her look around in shock and fear then suddenly 50 terrifying looking horses run through the village square, all of them were carrying heavily armed and armoured witchers. And they were heading towards the palace.

"Why are the witchers here? They've never been seen in one place before." Lana, her daughter in law croaks beside her.

"I heard rumors that they took that white haired female that they say is the daughter of the white wolf. I assume that right there, that was an invasion force. The king took the white Wolf's daughter, its known he's very protective of her. He probably gathered all the others and is going to breach the castle." Adam, Patsy's youngest son said shakily. 

"Good riddance." Patsy sneers and hobbled back inside.

As Geralt and the others approach the castle, Geralt sends a telepathic message to Ciri through their bond and sends her flash images of the outside of the castle and his witcher brothers behind him. He smiles slightly at the thankfulness and love she projects back before frowning as she sends back images of a thought to be dead Duny 

"He wants to take me, dad, to bed. He says our future son will be all powerful and will be his heir according to prophecy." her fearful voice fills his head. Geralt snarls loudly before looking at the others.

"THE EMPEROR IS MINE ONLY! he wants to rape Ciri for a prophecies all powerful son." Geralt yells making everyone growl and hiss respectively.

"We're coming Pup, hold on. We're coming up on the palace gates. Are you able to get out of your bonds?' He asks through the mental link.

"I'm already out of them, I've just been keeping my arms behind my back. They didn't think to check me for weapons. I have my daggers and I can still teleport. They don't know I already have training."

"Good girl. Don't go after Duny. He can have you defiled in minutes. Leave him to me. He's mine. I saved his life at your mother's betrothal feast, I would like to correct that mistake. As soon as he leaves the room, portal yourself to my location. I have a sword for you, it was going to be a birthday present but you need it now." Geralt sent back as they arrive at the gate.

Geralt summons a strong blast and the doors blow off their hinges and rattle the entire castle as they fall.

 

Emperor Emhyr was sitting across from his daughter, trying to convince her to let him breed her when suddenly a loud expression rocks the castle. Cirilla states laughing manically and grins at her birth father.

"You pissed off the wrong people, Emhyr. You've sighed your own death warrant!" She crows in laughter as the sounds of screaming, roaring and laughter wind through the castle walls.

Suddenly a terrified and heavily injured guard barges in.

"SIR! Witchers! An army's worth. And they're pissed." The man pants before collapsing. Emhyr looks at Ciri who smirks but gets up and runs out the door, leaving Cirilla alone.

"Finally! Coming to ya dad!" Ciri sends Geralt before standing up, stretching a little and the disappearing in a flash of green light. When she arrives, she is standing next to Roach and Geralt is holding a sword. He hops down off Roach and hugs her tightly before handing her the sword.

"Wow, it's a shame it'll already see its first blood." She said, obviously not sorry at all. She and her dad, move with fluid grace as they fight back to back as soldiers run at them. 

Then suddenly Geralt senses other magic and puts Cirilla behind him and throws up a shield that covers all the witchers. He looks over to see a shocked and fearful sorceress.

"Impossible! Witchers cannot control chaos!" She cried.

"That's partly true, I'm the only mutant mage. And I'm a damn powerful one." He said before baring his fangs and shoots a spell at her to transform into a dandelion. She tries to block it but he's too powerful for her and sudden a small dandelion sat on the ground where she stood.

"Why a flower, wolf??" Lambert called from his left.

"Because of this!" Geralt replied with a grin and walked over, picked up the flower and held it to Roach, she knocked happily and ate it from his hand.

The soldiers and witchers gape at him as the court silences. The witcher had just fed Nilfgaurds most powerful sorceress to his horse and did it with a smile on his face. One by one, soldiers suddenly start dropping their weapons in surrender, thoroughly terrified at that display of magic.

 

Emhyr tries to run to a back entrance in the throne room when suddenly the door way in front of him glowed with a barrier. Emhyr looks to see a bloody but uninjured Geralt stalking through with an equally bloody and uninjured Cirilla by Geralt's side and with dozens of witchers filing in behind him.

"Tsk tsk tsk. I saved your life, Duny. And you kidnap and try and rape my daughter. Is this how you repay me?" Geralt sneers with a nasty smirk.

"She's my daughter, Witcher." Emhyr says coldly.

"That's where you're wrong, Geralt is more of a dad than you have ever been. Where were you when I was grieving my parents, where were you when I learned to play the harp? Where were you when I was lost in the woods for months, where were you when I was learning to sing? Where were you who I scraped my knees when I fell down some stares? Where where you when my kitten died and grandmother and Eist were to busy to help me calm down? ..mhmm. you were here. Hiding and planning my rape and probably subsequent murder. Geralt is the one who helped me learn to survive, to live. He taught me how to fight, he taught me what real love looks like. I was having a terrible nightmare a few months ago. Almost brought Kaer Morhen down with my screams. And dad helped me breath again and he told to bundle up and meet him outside. That he had a tradition to show me, an ancient witcher tradition. And when I for out there, he threw a snowball at my face. We had a snowball fight in the middle of the night and after, I fell asleep with a smile. He put away old rivalry and forgave old betrayal to bring all of the witchers together to rescue me. The wolves, cats and vipers have never been in the same room before without beating eachother bloody. Geralt is my dad, Vesemir is my grandfather, Yennefer of Vengerberg is my mom, Master bard Jaskier is my papa and Triss Marigold is my sister. The witchers of the continent are my uncles. I have my family. And you, emperor asshole, are not my family. I exercise my right to renounce my title as heir and princess. I renounce you, Emperor Emhyr var Emreis. I am not your daughter." Ciril rants before looking at Geralt with a smile.

"Let the record reflect that I, Geralt of Rivia, claim Cirilla as my own. She is now Cirilla of Kaer Morhen, our little swallow." Geralt said before picking Emhyr up with his magic and tearing the man's head from his body with a sickening pop. 

 

Geralt takes the head and guides out the witchers and they mount their horses again. Geralt pulls Ciri up in front of him and lead his brother out of the castle gates. They walk to the town center and toss Emhyr's head onto the ground infront of a crowd.

"Let it be known that anyone who hurts who is under our protection, the consequences are severe. Good luck to you all." Geralt before urging Roach down the road. Geralt opens a portal and puts them near Ban Gleán. They trot along quietly, revealing in the victory and the relief that Cirilla was safe but then Geralt heard strumming, familiar strumming. Geralt looks forward to see Jaskier walking in front of them.

"Jask!" Geralt yelled, making Jaskier look up and stumble in shock. He runs to Geralt's side and let's Geralt dismount Roach, leaving Ciri in the saddle.

"Why the hell are you all traveling together and soaked in blood?" Jaskier asked worriedly as he checks Geralt for injuries but Geralt just chuckles and pulls Jaskier to him.

"I'm okay Jask, we're all okay. The blood isn't any of ours. Nilfgaurd took Ciri, so we brought down Nilfgaurd." Geralt said as he nuzzled  against Jaskier's neck and jaw.

"Oh ok good I- wait. YOU TOOK DOWN NILFGAURD!!??" Jaskier yelled before looking at Ciri.

"Kiddo, I thought we taught you better? How on earth did you get taken?" Jaskier asked worriedly.

"Papa, I'm an 18 year old woman. Even with training, I can't take down 20 men by myself. I took 7 down before they got me though. And I bit one guy's finger off. He wouldn't go near me again when I was there" Ciri said smugly.

"That's my girl." Jaskier said before rounding on Geralt. 

The witchers behind them couldn't believe it. This little bard was ranting and raving and shouting that he should have been there, and how he could have made a beautiful song out of it and how dare Geralt not tell him that Ciri had be kidnapped. This bard scared them a little at his lack of fear but the sheepish smile on Geralt's face would surely result in teasing for years.

 

However, as the bard, continue to rant, one thing became evident. The white wolf had been tamed but he was not soft nor slow or weak, but instead, ferociously protective, loyal, and loving to those he loved. Yet, he was brutal and unforgiving in his vicious attacks if those he loved were threatened. 

Jaskier isn't his. He is Jaskier's.

#the witcher #the witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher jaskier #fanfic #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #witcher eskel #the witcher ciri #witcher cirilla #witcher lambert #lambert #witcher vesemir #papa vesemir #vesemir #wolf witchers #cat witchers #viper witchers #Griffin witchers #bear witchers #united stance #Nilgaurd took their Swallow #so they took Nilgaurd #Nilgaurd pissed off the wrong people #they done fucked up #lesson of the story: #don't hurt someone under the protection of the witchers. #they will tear you to pieces with a smile on their face