#in front of his daughter who is cradling the dead body of said child

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

ive been listening to the audio books for His Dark Materials and like. wow. little kid me was reading these without even blinking?? some of the stuff in these books is war crime shit

#his dark materials #the golden compass #yea this isnt dgr but i had to mention it bc. goddamn #spoilers for the golden compass but #a grown man just killed a child to rip open the border to another universe and has started making out with his morally corrupt ex wife #in front of his daughter who is cradling the dead body of said child #like??? really???? #also picking up on stuff i missed the first time around. the fascinating implications of childhood vs maturity and why people fear it #lyra you are everything to me and you didnt deserve any of that at all. even if you were annoying at times. even if you did do stupid stuff #you did it bc you were a kid and still are a kid and thats just how kids are and its not something that people should try and stamp out

[spacebarbarianweird]

Memories of Innocence

Synopsis: Astarion sees snippets of his own past through the reverie.

Tags: comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs, reverie, Astarion's memories

Alethaine's age: 3 days

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The newborn girl squeals demanding to be held and fed.

Astarion leans on the cradle where three-day-old Alethaine cries loudly stretching her arms and legs.

“So, what is it now?” Astarion smiles while taking a thick blanket to wrap around his daughter. He can’t allow her to feel cold—unfortunately, his vampire body isn’t really warm. “Your mother has just gone to sleep.”

Tiriel has been exhausted—first, labor and then a newborn who needs all her attention and also requires her body to survive. Astarion sees a weird irony in the fact that he first fed on Tiriel’s blood and now Alethaine feeds on Tiriel’s milk.

Astarion has been enjoying being a father so far. He loves being with the newborn all the time when Tiriel is asleep—and waking her up only for breastfeeding. He even likes the dirty side of having a child, and he is surprised at himself that it doesn’t annoy him.

It’s his child. His baby daughter.

Elves are so infertile every child is a blessing, and since the process is almost painless (well at least it’s a painless process for an elven mother—Astarion will never forget Tiriel’s cries). Usually, the birth of elves is welcomed by the whole community, and every member of said community wants to hold the newborn. And elves remember that moment even if their whole childhood is forgotten. 

Alethaine was welcomed to the world only by her parents and a halfling midwife. Will she remember her mother touching her ears, so different from her own? Or Astarion’s ugly crying?

Is she even an elf, after all, Astarion wonders.

Alethaine squeals again and Astarion carries her to the next room where, behind a shut door, Tiriel is fast asleep.

“Tiriel, love, I hate to wake you up, but she wants to eat.” Astarion enters the room and sits at the edge of the wooden bed.

Tiriel sighs, still half asleep, and takes Alethaine in her arms. Astarion is mesmerized by how Tiriel tugs the collar of her shirt freeing the swollen breast and puts Alethaine in front of it. How a nipple disappears in the baby’s mouth and how her ears start twitching with every suckling movement.

It’s the nineteenth time Astarion has seen it. 

And he wants to remember every one of these sessions.

“Are you tired?” Tiriel asks. Her eyes are half-open. “And when was the last time you ate?”

“My sweet, I can spend a few days without meditating and eating. I am a vampire-elf, after all,” he chuckles, but the next moment he realizes he actually wouldn’t mind to trance a bit.

Tiriel yawns. “Give me a couple of hours and I will take care of her,” Tiriel stretches her left hand to play with Astarion’s hair.

He closes his eyes concentrating on her touch. 

Sometimes he thinks that’s all an illusion. A cruel trick of his mind. He is still locked in the dungeon, or worse, buried alive in a tomb. But he opens his eyes and sees his beloved feeding their newborn child.

And they are both real.

“Do you think she is normal?” Astarion asks. “I mean… I don’t mind if she is a dhampir, not at all! But do you think she is a mortal like you?”

“Honestly as far as I'm concerned her current species is ‘baby’", Tiriel sounds exhausted. “I think we will know, sooner or later.”

Astarion leans to kiss Tiriel. She answers him with the same passion she has had for the last twenty years.  

He breaks up the kiss and pecks Tiriel’s cheek. 

“A couple more hours, all right?” she whispers.

Astarion nods and then picks up the blanket.

“Astarion, I understand it’s winter and she is a newborn, but don’t you think it’s too warm?” Tiril notices as Astarion wraps the baby.

“I am as cold as a dead man,” Astarion says. “I don’t want her to suffer in my hands.”

Tiriel nods as if suddenly remembering Astarion is a vampire. “If she falls asleep and you need to reverie, come to me. I suffer without your hands on me,” she smiles adjusting the shirt.

Astarion places the baby into the cradle in the other room. Alethaine stares at him with her eyes wide open. 

“I am very lucky,” he mutters. “You don’t understand it, but I am very lucky” he adds in elven.

He is lucky he was outside during the nauthiloid attack. He is lucky he was so paralyzed with fear he didn’t try to run away. He is lucky that the mindflayer, the Emperor, decided Tiriel could somehow benefit from carrying a tadpole in her head. 

He is lucky Tiriel didn’t push him away.

He is lucky they both survived. 

Astarion doesn’t believe in destiny, but it has been such a wild sequence of events leading to him standing in this nursery he finds it all unreal.

He notices stains on his once-white shirt, takes it off, and tosses it to the same pile of dirty fabric on the floor. Astarion will wash all these nappies and clothes later and, no, he isn’t going to let Tiriel do that.

Astarion sits on the floor, pressing his back against the wall. It seems like he can meditate to recover a bit. The last time he managed to do so was a few days earlier and it was interrupted by Tiriel’s muffled cry as she was pressing her hands to the belly. 

Alethaine starts squealing. Her little face is red and her toothless mouth is wide open.

“What is it now?” Astarion asks. It may be the first time he is really tired of hearing her screams. “You are fed and still pretty clean.”

Alethaine squeals again.

Astarion picks up the blanket to take the baby in his arms, but the moment the fur touches her she yells even louder.

“What do you want, Alethaine? You don't like the blanket? Too bad, I can’t hold you without it!”

Another scream. Gods, how is it even possible for such a small child to make such loud noises?!

“My hands are cold, princess. You won't like them. I am not warm like your mother.”

The girl stretches her arms to him. Astarion feels a wave of desperation—it’s just unfair to think about it. His life was taken away from him, his youth, his childhood memories, his family, and even his past lives, if elves are right about reincarnation.

And now he can’t even hold his own daughter.

“Princess, I am going to take you but don’t complain,” he lifts her tiny body and puts Alethaine on his own bare chest. “See? I am as cold as the grave I’ve dug myself out of.”

Alethaine stops crying.

Astarion stares at her in disbelief as the newborn buries her little face in his cold skin.

Alethaine smiles.

Astarion carefully sits back on the floor and takes the blanket to wrap himself. Alethaine is blissful and he concentrates on her heartbeat and breathing.

She is so warm.

“You… wanted me to hold you,” he whispers. “Without blankets or anything else?”

Astarion sniffs. This little bundle in his arms makes him…normal. What is more normal in this world than a father holding his newborn child? He was forced to do the most atrocious things, he had to crawl back from his own grave, and his body was used in the most disgusting ways…

And yet he is here.

In his own home far away from the Sword Coast. With the most amazing woman in the next room. With their child.

Alethaine is so delicate, so innocent… So small. 

“Well, it seems like you are finally asleep. Do you mind if I meditate?” He smiles, touching her baby hair.

He closes his eyes and lets the flow take him.

Astarion drifts in complete darkness. No, not this. Not the memories of being buried. He tries to run away from those memories but can’t. It's only a dream, he reminds himself. Whatever horrors he is going to witness it’s all in the past.

But why is it so dark?

Why does he feel so helpless?

He is still aware of his real surroundings and the tiny bundle in his own hands—but the weird memory takes a grip on his mind and he questions if he should have put Alethaine back in her bed.

The darkness shifts to light. Astarion can’t see anyone but he knows there are people around him. Quiet murmurs in elven reach to his ears forcing him to let out a cry.

Then a pair of hands take him and he hears a loud heartbeat. Long silver hair brushes his head and he sees the face of a tired elven woman whose smile is exhausted yet happy.

Tiriel looked similar three days ago.

“My little star,” the woman whispers to him.

The memory fades away. No more years to witness, no more light. Only darkness, misery, and cold—until he ends up in Tiriel’s arms that promise him safety and warmth.

“And you were afraid she wouldn’t want to be held by you.” He hears Tiriel’s voice as she kneels beside them, “I will take her, all right?”

Astarion, still half in his trance, lets her take the baby and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. “Oh, so now you like your dad more than me!” Tiriel laughs. “Was it all right? Your reverie?” 

Astarion finally returns to reality. Tiriel asks him that question any time she witnesses him waking up. Unless it’s obvious he’s seen something really bad and ends up crying in pain. 

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t?”

“I think I saw my mother,” Astarion finally confesses. “She was holding me like you are holding Alethaine right now.”

“Oh?” Tiriel touches his cheek. “I thought you didn’t remember anything”

“I still don’t. It’s like a glimpse.”

Tiriel tugs him, helping Astarion to stand up. “Do you think she is still alive? Your mother?”

“It doesn’t matter. I am a vampire, no one would want to have a vampire son.”

Tiriel nods—she knows when to stop asking. She knows when he feels uncomfortable and uneasy and never pushes his boundaries. And if she does, it’s by sheer accident.

“It’s already dark outside,” she notices. “You need to eat”

Hunger is too painful. Gods, he wishes he could feed on Tiriel—but they agreed he would return to his habits once she stops breastfeeding.

“If you go into the woods, kill something I can eat, too,” she asks. “I am fucking starving.”

“Of course,” Astarion puts on his winter shirt. “It seems like I am leaving the house as a father for the first time. I will be back soon, love,” he kisses her lips, and the moment he pulls away Tiriel points at their daughter. Astarion carefully plants a kiss on her forehead.

The winter night meets him with howling winds and piercing cold. Astarion is on a hunt, he is going to let his predatory nature take the lead once he is in the woods. He needs a lot of blood to compensate for the few days he spent with his wife and daughter, and when he returns to them his body will be temporarily hot.

Maybe it’s for the best that those who mattered to him when he was mortal think he is dead. There are three Astarions—a forever lost soul from Baldur’s Gate, a tortured spawn, and a free elf who fears nothing and no one, who has a home, who has people to love. It doesn’t matter what happened before he woke up on that spelljammer. 

Only what happens next. 

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids @ednaaa-04 @dajeong

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #alethaine ancunin #astarion being a dad #dadstarion #astarion fluff #spacebarbarian fics #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #astarion fanfic #tiriel of the sunset mountains #tiriel the barbarian #astarion x tiriel #oc tav: tiriel #dhampirs of the sword's coast

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Hello new here! I was thinking if you could an aegon and rhaenyras daughter but instead of Harwin being her father its criston cole because he did get her pregnant that night. This takes place after Luke’s death and instead of just killing aegon’s and readers son they kill her too because daemon hated her for being ser Crispins daughter and like rhaenyra is heartbroken and aegon is crazy on revenge for his wife and child.

pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Niece!Reader

summary: aegon and rhaenyras daughter but instead of Harwin being her father its criston cole because he did get her pregnant that night. This takes place after Luke’s death and instead of just killing aegon’s and readers son they kill her too because daemon hated her for being ser Crispins daughter and like rhaenyra is heartbroken and aegon is crazy on revenge for his wife and child.

Word count: 3,0K

Warnings: Angst, Rape, Murder, Child murder, Blood and Cheese, Fire and Blood spoilers, Targaryen Madness

"Come on darling, don't give Muña such a hard time" You teased your son with a smile. He giggled as your fingers tickles his tummy. His chubby fingers reached out to you.

"Will sleep my love or will you be keeping me and kepa up all night again?" You asked, leaning down to kiss his forehead. Viseryn let out another giggle as your hair tickled his cheeks, chubby and full from feeding regularly from your breast.

"My sweet baby" You whispered, swaying from side to side. Your back was to the door and facing your child's cradle. When you heard the door you did not turn assuming it was Aegon coming to see Viseryn off before bed.

"You're back early, my love" You said. You frowned when you did not receive an answer back, Aegon usually made noise or at least answered you to not startle you. You turned around and froze at the sight of two men standing in front of the door with daggers in their hands.

"Who are you?" You questioned, tightening your grip on your son. Viseryn whined as you mushed his face against your bosom.

"Prince Daemon sent us, princess" One of the two answered taking a step closer to you.

"My stepfather?" You questioned, cocking your head to the side. The man grinned evilly showing his rotten teeth.

"What do you want?" You asked, backing up. The two of them approached you. You remembered the dagger Aegon hid in the nightstand beside the crib in case of something happening.

"A son for a son, princess" The other man was the one to speak. You shook your head in denial, Daemon would never hurt Viseryn, right? Although you never had a good relationship with him you did not believe he was capable of hurting an infant, barely seven moons old.

"Over my dead body" You sprang into action pulling open the drawer while balancing Viseryn on one arm and pulled the dagger out. The two of them snickered at the sight of you, in your night gown a weak woman with no experience in the matter of fighting but like any mother you were ready to defend your little one.

"That can be arranged" The first man said. He attempted to step closer to your but you swiped your dagger at him, a fire ignited inside of you, a need to protect your cub. A loud roar echoed in the distance, Vermithor feeling your distraught but unable to help from outside.

"Sweetheart, do not make this harder for yourself" He taunted trying to grab you again. You tried stabbing him again but this time the second man intervened and grabbed your arm. He pried your fingers off the dagger and threw it away. You whimpered at the painful grip he had around your arm.

"Much better" He whispered pulling you back into him and wrapped his free arm around your middle.

"No, get away" The other man pulled Viseryn out of your arms forcefully. The little boy burst out crying at the jerking and being in unfamiliar arms.

"No let him go, please" You begged. The man behind you held you tightly.

"Who are you?" You sobbed. You tried getting to Viseryn but the second man had a tight grip around you. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath against your neck.

"I am blood sweetheart" The man holding Viseryn responded. Viseryn was trying to push him away but Blood was too strong for the small boy, his screams grew even more urgent, his head turning in search of you.

"And I am cheese" The one holding you whispered in your ear. Your body shivered with disgust.

"Please let my baby go, I'll do anything" You begged. Blood looked at you in amusement. He raised his dagger to Viseryn's neck making you let out a scream.

"Please! Anything!" You yelled. Cheese had to grab both your arms and held them behind your back to restrain some of your movement.

"Anything?" He taunted grinding his lower half against your behind. You felt nauses at the thought of another man other than Aegon anywhere near you but for Viseryn you would do anything.

"Please let him go and take me instead, kill me instead a son for a wife" You bargained. The two looked at each other chuckling as they communicated with their eyes.

"We can arrange that" Blood said, walking over to the cradle he placed your son down in it. Viseryn's cries did not cease for a second, he still sensed the danger. He would not calm until he felt your touch, until he felt your skin and heard your voice.

"Come on then, little princess" Cheese pushed you closer to your bed. Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this moment. Being a princess you never imagined for a second that you would be harmed in such a way by anyone.

"Good princess" Cheese teased pushing you to lay on your stomach. He pulled up your night gown to show your behind groaning at the sight.

"Look what the lucky bastard has" Blood's hand came down to smack your behind. You closed your eyes hearing shuffling behind you. You jerked at the feeling of Cheese's cock easing inside of you.

"She's so fucking tight" Cheese pointed out. He was brutal with his movement. You were in emense pain but for your boy your would endure anything.

"The Hightower cunt probably does not fuck her enough" Blood laughed. He pulled his cock out in front of you and began palming himself, up and down slowly to not spill just yet. Viseryn's loud cries were the only thing heard in the room along with the groans of the two men and skin slapping, you refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing your despair.

"Fuck" Cheese threw his head back as he spilled himself inside of you. He pulled out with a shit eating grin making way for blood.

"I like watching them squirm in pleasure" Blood turned you around to face him. He pulled your legs up and over his shoulder before pushing his cock inside of you. You wanted to scream from the pain but held inside. Cheese's cum worked as lube to let him in but it did not make it anywhere near pleasurable.

Your head lulled to the side unable to look at him as he fucked himself into you, an honour only meant for noble men to fuck a princess but here low lives were getting their fill. You looked at the cradle beside the bed where Viseryn was still screaming his lungs out, voice growing hoarse.

"Fuck sweetheart" Blood palmed at your breasts like some hungry beast. He let his weight fall on you as he orgasmed. You have never seen any men finish so quickly before in your life but yo were more than grateful so this torture could end.

"Look at the Queen so full of our cum" Cheese teased. Blood pulled out of you and moved to the side fixing his trousers.

"If only she were to live and have our bastards but alas this was good enough" Blood teased back. Your eyes widened in shock. Cheese was quick to pull you off the bed and hold you against his chest with your back to him and your front facing the cradle.

"What are you doing?" You questioned. Blood pulled Viseryn out of the cradle and held him in his arms again.

"I gave you what you wanted, please let him go" You pleaded. Blood smirked evilly at you.

"Not a chance princess" A scream tore from your throat as blood's knife came down straight into you boys neck ending his screams. Blood let go of your boy letting him fall the ground with a loud thud and you swear you could hear several cracks as well.

"Viseryn!" Your knees gave up on you and Cheese let you go. You crawled over to your son's mangled body. You picked him up and held him against your chest, his smashed face against your breast, the breast he was suckling on less than an hour ago but never will ever again.

"My boy!" Your throat felt like it was tearing open. Your heart was in so much pain you felt like you were dying and in fact you were.

"Shut her up" Blood whined, hands going up to his ears. You were shocked no one heard your and Viseryn's screams by now. Cheese did not waste a second to move closer to you and hold his knife to your neck. With one swift swipe his slit your throat open.

You chocked on your blood, gurgling. Your bed fell to the side with Viseryn still in your arms. Your body withered and shivered before finally falling limp, your arms growing limp around your son's corpse and your eyes wide open along with your mouth.

"Let's go" Blood pulled cheese out of the room before they could get caught. They were lucky thus far but they did not know for how long.

"Darling" Aegon whispered as he opened the door trying not to wake up his sleeping son, it was past his bed time after all. He froze at the sight of you laying on the floor, the blood still not visible.

"My love!" He yelled, sprinting over to your body. He fell to his knees beside you heart hammering in his chest. His eyes caught sight of your son's mangled body laying beside yours.

"Viseryn!" The scream that tore through his throat will forever haunt those who lived within these walls, a ghost of the memory many called it.

His hands shook as he pulled his son to his chest. His throat was torn open, his small eyes open staring into the void. His small hands no longer trying to grab at his hair. His chest no longer rising and falling with each breath.

"Wake up, please my boy wake up" Aegon begged, sobbing. His head fell on his son's chest in search of a heart beat but there was none. "Please" Aegon sobbed.

"Aegon?" His mother's voice called from the door. She had heard his scream from down the corridor and came running along with Criston.

"Mother, Viseryn won't wake up" Aegon turned to look at him mother. She gasped in horror at what she saw. Blood everywhere. Criston braced himself against the door frame by her side. The sight of his only child in such a state sent him into shock mode.

"Viseryn" Alicent whispered, stepping closer. Her first instinct was to take him from Aegon. Aegon let her in hopes that she will bring his son back to life. He turned to look at his wife and pulled her into his chest.

"My love, wake up, please" He hand moved to touch your cheek, smearing your blood there even more. Your eyes stared up at the ceiling with no movement. His eyes trailed down to the rest of your body pausing when he noticed even more blood on your lower region. Fury was all that could be described at when he felt in that moment, Targaryen madness was more than proven with this King.

"My beautiful wife" He sobbed, his head falling down against your chest, where he liked to lay and listen to your heartbeat whenever he was sad, whenever his mother shouted at him, whenever being king grew overwhelming but now he heard no comforting thuds and your fingers did thread through his hair, you did not scold him for forgetting to wash it. Usually you helped him with his baths and it became a routine at the end of the day for him to bath and you washing his hair and body before joining him for a round of love making.

Aegon looked up when he heard shuffling to find Criston kneeling down beside him, tears were streaming down his face. It was no secret who your father was, the uncanny resemblance, the black locks and brown eyes, the tan complexion all pointed to one answer. The soft spot Criston had for you as a child and the fury that seemed to burn him when your mother took you away to Dragonstone and away from him.

"My girl" Criston was over the moon when it was announced that you were to marry Aegon, you would be moving back to the Red Keep and he could be near you again. Aegon let Crsiton take you from him, let him touch you and hold you. Criston buried his face in your hair sobbing like any parent would.

"Where are you going?" Alicent asked, between her sobs. Aegon stood up from the floor and walked over to the door.

"To plan a war" Was all Aegon said without looking back at her and moved to leave in search of Aemond and Daeron.

"You motherfucker" Aegon slammed his feats into Daemon's face earning back a laugh.

"Is that all you got, boy" Daemon taunted. Aegon rolled his neck, sword in hand, he was never really good in the art of sword fighting, it was more Aemond and Daeron's cup of tea but this was a new Aegon.

"You killed her" Aegon accused. He attempted to pounce at Daemon when a loud dragon roar echoed in the skies. Syrax landed not far away from the battlefield and his sister slid down from the saddle.

"A son for a son" Daemon answered shrugging. Aegon let out a loud cry running at Daemon sword long forgotten, flew from his hand to the ground. Daemon was pushed onto his back with Aegon's hand around his neck in a chokehold. Daemon's hands snapped up to wrap around Aegon's wrists.

"Why did you kill them? They were innocent" Aegon sobbed. Tears gathered in his eyes. He could footsteps nearing them but did not look up. He trusted Aemond and Daeron to stop any attacks from behind him.

"She is Criston Cunt's daughter and he is your Hightower spawn" Daemon chocked. His face was turning red and some shade of purple. Aegon flinched at the feeling of something sharp pierce his side. He looked down to find Daemon holding the handle of a dagger wedged into his side.

"Die you fucker!" Aegon ragged. Daemon's eyes grew in panic seeing his attack had no affect. Aegon was running on pure adrenaline.

"Fuck" Daemon chocked. Aegon tightened his grip even more, he could feel his blood flowing out but his strength did not betray him, he had to hold on for her, for Viseryn.

"You killed an infant, you killed an innocent woman" Aegon hissed. His tears turned to ones of happiness as Daemon's eyes began to turn in his head and his withering grew weaker by the second. His hands that were wrapped around Aegon's wrists fell down to rest on Aegon's thighs digging his nails down by to no use.

"Daemon!" Aegon's head snapped up at the sound of Rhaenyra's scream. Aemond and Daeron both were holding her back as the battle resumed to rage around them. Her golden crown swayed and fell with her fighting.

"Do you sweet sister know what our uncle did?" Aegon asked. He raised Daemon's head up and slammed it down on the ground harshly. Daemon's legs kicked and fought but the fight in him was slowly dying.

"He killed my wife in cold blood. He sent his men to rape and kill her. He made her watch as they killed her son in front of her" Aegon yelled. Rhaenyra's fighting ceased and she fell to her knees. Her eyes wide in shock and her head shook from side to side in denial.

"I came back to my room to find my wife holding the broken body of our infant son, his throat slit open and his head half smashed, his arms in all weird angles and his legs broke, he was but seven moons!" Aegon yelled. His eyes turned to Daemon, Daemon's eyes were turning red as the vessels burst in his eyes.

"Die you piece of shit" Aegon hissed as the life flittered out of Daemon's body. He fell limp but Aegon refused to let go of his neck until he was sure that he was dead.

"He killed your daughter sister" Aemond taunted in Rhaenyra's ear. Daeron moved to the side noticing the maddened glint in Aegon's eyes grow.

"He killed your grandson" Aemond whispered in her ear. Aegon satisfied with Daemon's dead body, he stood up and turned to face her. Daeron's eyes widened at the sight of the dagger sticking out of Aegon's side, he ran to fetch a maester.

"Sunfyre" Aemond let go of Rhaenyra hearing his brother's dragon screech in response from a distance before landing near them, crushing men around them under his feet.

"ipradagon" Eat. Aegon ordered. The golden dragon screeched again before coming down to bite through Rhaenyra's middle breaking her in half.

Aegon's wound finally affected him and the blood loss making him dizzy, he fell to his knees. Aemond sprinted over to Aegon supporting him before he could fully fall.

"Hang on, Daeron will bring help" Aemond tried assuring Aegon. Aegon smiled as he held on to Aemond's tunic tightly.

"No, let me die" Aegon wheezed. One of his hands moved to pull the dagger out to assist the blood in flowing our faster and in a bigger amount.

"I will go to them, let me go to them" Aegon whispered. Aemond never thought he would feel pity for his older brother. He never thought he could feel love for Aegon after the bullying but in that moment he felt his heart shatter as his brother died in his arms.

"I'm coming my love" Was the last thing Aegon whispered before he took his last breath. Daeron paused a couple of feet away from his brothers, leaning down on his knees panting in defeat as the maester declared Aegon dead in the middle of the field and Aemond was declared the king after him.

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #game of thrones #aemond targaryen #aegon the usurper #aegon the second #aegon ii #aegon imagine #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x aemond #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon x you #aemond fanfiction #hotd aegon #house of the dragon aemond #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #aegon ii targaryen #request #requests

[misguidedasgardian]

The White Dragon (5)

5. Forced Landing

MASTERLIST

Summary: You arrival puts everything in place

Pairings: Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader

Warnings: cursing, medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs, alcohol consumption, a pregnant women drinking wine 😂 Here is mentioned that reader got a tan 😂this chapter is pretty tamed, might miss some warnings 

+ 18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4.0k

Notes: I am so grateful to all of you who follow this story ❤️ love you all and I love the interactions even if I don’t respond sometimes ❤️. Come on take it easy on Harwin 😂❤️

When you began to recover your bearings, you felt like you were trapped inside something. You were certain you had your eyes opened, but still you couldn’t see anything. but you were moving, not your limbs, but your entire body registered the movement, it was such a strange feeling. But then it stopped. The recognizable sound of something made of wood placed on the ground made you think that you were inside some sort of cradle. 

“What are you doing here Daemon?” even trapped in something you could hear your father’s voice clear as day

“I have a gift for you brother, don’t tell me I never do anything for you” you could almost see the shit eating grin in your uncle’s face, “I was told you were missing one of your greatest dragons”

Suddenly the lid of the box was opened, light suddenly hitting your face so hard it made you whine. You were still a little disoriented, but you recognized where you were immediately. He took you back to King’s Landing, more exactly, you were in the throne room. You heard gasps and murmurs because you found yourself in front of the court of the Red Keep, the Queen, Ser Criston Cole, and other members of your family were looking at you

“Daughter!” called your father

And there you were, wearing a tunic as a short dress, of your favorite color, in the most new Astapor fashion, but you made it your own with leather pants underneath, and boots both in a light beige. Your hair had been tied out of your face with simple braids, (the ones you could braid without help), and your skin presented a tan that wasn’t there before. 

“My King” you greeted, still getting your bearings, “Your grace” you looked at your uncle in anger, but then back at your father 

“Everyone out” he demanded

“But my love” started Alicent clearly not wanting to miss the reunion

“EVERYONE OUT!” your father screamed, the room was cleared in seconds, even the kingsguard left, leaving you with Daemon, and your father. HIs yes were set on you, and you were looking down at the floor in front of him, because you knew that for him, you had to beg for his forgiveness

“We thought you were dead!” he claimed, “where have you been?”

“In the free cities” you whispered, but the acoustic of the throne room make him hear you just well 

“You abandoned your home, you abandoned your family, your husband, AND YOUR KING!” You thought that he had never been this angry, at least, not towards you 

“I’m sorry father”

“You put The Strong house to shame, flying from your Lord Husband” he continued, his anger clearly dwindling by the second 

“I was angry” you muttered

“You are acting like a spoiled child!” he said firmly

“Brother…” muttered Daemon

“Shut your mouth!” he demanded, “You had instructions to bring her here 4 months ago” he muttered, and you looked at your uncle with a frown

“I brought her here as soon as she came to me” he responded

“They talk like I’m not even here!” you reasoned

“YOU DIDN’T TOLD US WHERE YOU WERE GOING!” you father exploded again, “you are going to make public apologies to your husband, and to Ser Lyonel, the head of your house” he continued, “You are going to take penitence, two fortnights without leaving the castle, not even the fucking gardens, and you are going to give me your word that you will never do this again, you hear me?” 

“Yes father”, you weren’t looking forward to begging for forgiveness, and especially towards your father in law. Lyonel Strong had always inspired respect, he was, as his family name would entail… strong, strong-minded, and with a strong presence whenever he stood. He was a man that inspired respect 

You certainly weren’t looking forward to looking him in the eyes and asking for forgiveness for abandoning his son. 

But you had to ask for your father’s forgiveness first

“I give you my word father, that I won’t abandon my family, ever again”, you said solemnly, “not without warning, at least” Daemon giggled 

“Go plead your forgiveness” he muttered, “And I will see you at the hour of the owl for supper”

No hugs, no warm welcome, but you expected as much, you did ran away and told no one about it, and they might have thought you were dead

You exited the throne room, and you felt your uncle following close behind, so you entered the first room you had at hand. It was a small meeting room, you guessed for private audiences, and then you turned to Daemon who had followed you in.

“You drugged me!” you screamed

“I drugged you” he admitted, 

“You kidnapped me! you brought me home!”

“I brought you home” he sentenced 

“You betrayed me too” you accused, “You traitor! bastard!”, you continued into spitting out every insult of the book you could think off, but the shy smile in your uncle’s face didn’t dwindle

“You are with child!” he muttered, his gaze lowered to the floor, “you have to be with your family, with your husband”

“Fuck my husband” you growled

“What about your family?” now you lowered your gaze, but your uncle placed two fingers under your chin and made you lift your face towards him

“You told me you could take me to release this anger… this fire I have inside of me, you said we could become mercenaries, and never come back, to drown in coin and wine, see lands no man has ever seen before…”

“I know what I said”. He said firmly, putting an end to your child-like accusations, “But I also said this, that a Targaryen, alone and betrayed in the world is a terrible thing, you cannot be left alone in the darkness…” you eyed him, still angry, “I know you must hate me right now, but in time you’ll see… that it doesn’t end well with Targaryens that believes themselves to be closer to gods than to men”

“I never believed myself to be closer to gods…”

“You said you were alone, you are with your family now, with your father…”

“But…” he interrupted you, putting his hand on your shoulder

“I tried to speak to Rhaenyra, but she won’t listen, I know you will, you are smarter, calmer than her…” you nodded, asking him to continue, “you need to stay by your father’s side, you can’t leave him alone with those green vipers, do you understand?” you nodded, slowly, “you need to accompany him, your father is sick, and nobody wants to see that”

“Why don’t you?” you asked then

“He doesn’t want me here… but you? He would burn the rest of the world to the ground if it means you’ll come back to him”, he said quietly, “make amends, rebuild bridges, and stay by your father’s side, you hear me?”, you nodded, barely. 

“How about you?” you asked

“What about me?”

“Will you mend your own bridges?” you asked

“Yes” he muttered, and then he left the room, probably to find his other niece.

You waited inside the small room for a few moments, gathering the strength to face everyone else. You had to pick the order of the people you were going to see next very carefully. But as you exited the room, that decision was made for you. 

Ser Steffon was waiting for you, his hands behind his back, and a easy smile on his lips

“Steffon!” you called, happy to see him. Truly happy to see your one true friend

“Princess” he answered, with an easy smile. You wanted to hug him, but it wasn’t proper, but as you saw both ways of the hallway, and there was no one there, you surrounded his neck with your arms. you felt his hand cradling the small of your back in greeting, and then you released him

“I’m sorry” you apologized, “I’m very sorry for leaving and not telling you”

“Well, I’m happy to say that if I was there the morning you left, you would have failed in doing so” he chuckled

“That is probably true” you muttered, you both started walking back to your rooms

“What happened while I was away?” you asked 

“Well, it was a shitshow when we realized you were gone, and the days after was excruciating, because we didn’t know if you planned on coming back or something had happened to you”

“I’m so sorry Steffon”

“You father was mad with sadness, so much so they brought in Otto hightower who moved his net of spies, and when we knew you were alive, we also knew you were in Essos, roaming around the free cities” he told you

“Are you mad at me?” you asked him

“I’m mad that you didn’t take me” he said jokingly, but you knew there was a sadness in his tones and in his eyes that weren’t there before. 

“Does anyone else hate me?” you asked

“Nobody could ever hate you” he said back… but there was an awkward silence, “we were all worried for your safety”

“And what about my husband?” you whispered

“He spent every day since you left in the wall of the Keep, looking east” he said gently. You stopped to look at him

“Does he hate me?”  you asked

“No” he answered, “he doesn’t hate you, if anything he feels terribly guilty, he has been sleeping in his old quarters, and keeping to himself mostly”

“I made everyone miserable” you muttered back

“Only those who deserved it” he chuckled, “If anything… I knew you were fine”

“Of course you did,” you giggled, “And how is my sister?”

“She is fine” your father whispered, “she is attending more small council meetings, the prince is quite cute, and calm” 

“I’m glad to hear it”

“She has missed you too” he muttered 

“Well, I’m here now, and apparently, I’m grounded, literally and figuratively”, you giggled

“it was really a forced landing, but, you are here, and that’s what’s important, that you are here and well” 

“Thank you Steffon, I think of all of them, I missed you more”

“Don’t let your father hear that” he chuckled.

He left you in your room, where, to your surprise, was your bag inside with your belongings you took on the trip with you. You put everything in order, and put aside little gifts you had brought for your father, sister, husband and nephew. Even after everything you bought them gifts

If you were going to see your father tonight, you'd give it to him then. 

You were sitting by the hearth in your room, when the door opened, you looked up to see Harwin, looking back at you like you were some sort of apparition. You stood up from your chair

“You are back” he said gently, before you could speak he took long steps to reach you, cradling your face to look properly at you, he saw you throughout, “Are you alright?” you nodded, “are you hurt?” he looked down at your body

“No, I’m fine” his eyes landed on the 5 month baby bump you couldn’t hide anymore, and he fell on his knees, placing his hand on your belly, “Harwin…” you begun

“Is the baby ok, how are you feeling?” he asked, looking at your body, and it made you uncomfortable

“Harwin”, you called again, and he looked up to you, “Please stand up” he did to his massive height above yours. “how do you know it’s yours? maybe I misbehaved in the free cities”, you ran away from him, pregnant, and now you were questioning the paternity of the baby in your belly and yet he smiled

“I know it’s mine, wife” he said, “the maester came to see me the day you left” but then his face turned serious, “you left with my baby in your belly” you lowered your eyes then. “You didn’t tell me” 

“Why would you care?” you asked bitterly

“You could have gotten hurt!” he explained, “you rode on dragon back, pregnant, something could’ve happened to you or the child!”

“It didn’t!” you told him, “the specialists in Essos said it is healthy, and growing properly” he took a long sigh

“If your uncle wouldn’t have brought you back you would have taken our child” he said, a deep, deep sadness in his eyes

“Why would you care?”, you said bitterly, “you already have a child” 

“He is not…”

“You lied to my face”, you answered, “So tell me, dear husband” you continued… “should I expect more nephews of mine that pop out of my sister that coincidentally look like you?”

“No” he said, but he didn’t look ashamed at your accusation. You looked at him in defiance, hoping that could break him 

“You gave her… a son, and you are unable to tell me the truth!” you condemned. He looked at you and sighed loudly

“We are going to Harrenhal” he sentenced

“What?” you asked, looking straight at him

“We are going to my family’s seat, my father is the hand of the King and cannot care for our lands properly, I will resign as a member of the city watch, and I will take his place”

“You cannot take that decision without me” you responded, but in his eyes was not the usual sympathy, there was determination, and also anger

“You are clearly not happy here” he told you, “I want to put distance between us and your sister and her son…”

“So you’ll hate me?” you asked, “I am the horrible person that is going to keep you from your son?” you asked then, “take you from your lover?”, he leaned over you, his hand quickly to cradle your face, calling your name, “I can’t move past this if you don’t admit it”

“If I say it outloud I make it true” he admitted, now in his eyes you could see true panic, maybe fear, “if I make it true, this is treason”, he continued, “You know what is done to traitors, what could be done to your sister, to the baby…”

“To you first” you muttered, looking down

“To me” he whispered his hands cradled your face, “Jacaerys is Laenor Velaryon’s son” he said firmly, and then he placed a hand on your stomach, “we made this baby, you and I, under our marriage vows” your eyes went to where his hand rested on your stomach, “the day before we got married I promised to you I would stop but it was already too late, but believe me when I say this, Rhaenyra and I will never touch again”, his thumbs caressed the apple of your cheek, his hot breath confusing you, throwing you inside a haze. Are you going to forgive him that easily?

“If you mean it, and you and Rhaenyra are never going to touch again,” he nodded, “I need to get past this, I need to forgive you”

“I’ll do anything” he said

“You never faced it Harwin, you are lying to me and pretended like nothing happened!” you spitted out, “you never faced me and you should have, if you wanted to see him you should have told me, so we can go through it together!” 

“What do you want me to say?” he said then, “tell me how can I make you happy, how can you look at me with longing and happiness? and not with sadness?” 

“You should have told me,” you repeated, “you treat me like I’m an idiot” you said back, “you never admitted to me, you denied it”

“Like I said, saying it outloud will make it true” he grunted, “But I do believe that we might never know for sure” he answered, “Only admitting it makes it real, and you know what can happen”

“If you want to spend time with my nephew you're going to look me in the eyes and tell me, I understand this happened before you married me, but it kills me!”

“I understand” he whispered

“Please Harwin, I… we cannot undo our marriage now”, you muttered, pointing at your belly, “And I will not place my sister and my nephew at risk” 

“I lied to you about seeing our nephew, and in regards to that I will never lie to you again, but what it remains true is that what I had with Rhaenyra is over”

“Are you sure? please Harwin…”

“It’s true”, but you couldn’t hold it anymore, you didn’t know if it was relief, or fear, or pain, but you started crying softly. 

“I feel like I’m a burden” you answered, “I saw you that day, at Rhaenyra’s side, holding her baby, and I…” a sob escaped your throat, and tears fell down your cheeks, “you should have married Rhaenyra instead of me” you cried, “you don’t want this, you’d rather be with her”

“That is not true” he whispered, “you are my wife” he said softly, “I was a comfort for Rhaenyra, she chose me but could have chosen another, only that, but you, you are my love” you dared to look up into his eyes, and what you saw melt your cold heart

“Are you sure?” you asked, with the hope of an innocent little girl, “please don’t break my heart again, I couldn’t bare it” 

“Yes, I’m sure” he leaned in and kissed you softly, “everyday you weren’t here was like a nightmare”. His forehead was against yours, his warmth warming your own.

“But we have to work for it” you muttered

“Oh yes we do,” he said back, “people are talking…”

“I will do what I have to, I will play my part” he leaned in and kissed your forehead, “I have to give you a public apology”

“There is no need”

“I will take your word for it, because I was not looking forward to it” you giggled softly.

“You must be tired” he muttered, “I shall leave you to rest”

“You weren’t sleeping here?” you asked, looking around and not finding any of his things around

“It didn’t feel right, without you here”, you looked down with shame

“Would it please you to come back to my bed?” you asked him, not looking him in the eyes because it embarrassed you, but he made you look at him, two of his fingers under your chin. Those eyes again, looking at yours

“There is nothing that would please me more” oh that voice. Again

You shook your head and broke the spell he put you under, releasing yourself from his grip. He had to come back to your bed to shut those rumors, you knew better than anyone how dangerous rumors and loose tongues could be.

“I’ll bring my things” he said quietly, sad that you broke the moment, and he left your chambers once again. 

But before he could come back, you were summoned for supper with your father. They called you to a small chamber next to the King’s, where Your mother, father and sister used to dine all together, it brought you fond memories. And you found Rhaenyra there

“You are back!” she greeted with a wide smile, you smiled back as he held you in a hug against her

“I’m back” you whispered against his ear

“We were so worried” she muttered, releasing and then looking at you

“I’m sorry for leaving just like that” you responded

“We never knew why you left”, you were alone in the small chamber, you knew it

“I saw you and Harwin” you confessed, “that morning he lied to me and then I saw you in your room holding your baby, and I couldn’t stand it, and I left”, she was worried, looking at you and then nodding 

“I’m so sorry” she whispered, you nodded. He held your hands in hers, “He did want him to see him but I swear there was nothing more to it”

“I understand that you both had a past, and that past did catch up to all of us, but…”

“That’s all it was, the past”, she whispered

“I’m certain”, you whispered, “I still have Harwin in the kennels, but…” 

“He is your husband” she said with a shy smile, “he is a great man, there is a reason why I encourage this”, you nodded

“We were always so close, I missed you Nyra”, you whispered 

“I missed you too”

“You are with child” she said, smiling brightly, you knew your sister like the back of your hand, and she was truly happy for you, “I’m so happy, Jacaerys will have a cousin of his age!” she hugged you again, and you held her tightly

“I’m so happy too, we are creating our legacy, sister!” you whispered in her ear, and she held you closer and tighter.

“Look at that!” you separated to see your father entering the room, “my girls!”, He was so pleased, and so happy. He had lost half his hand, his sickness eating him slowly, but he was still healthy, and you were thankful for that. 

You hugged your father, he might be the King, but in the intimacy of this moments, he was your father, he hugged you back, kissing the top of your head

“I missed you sweet girl”

“I’m sorry father”

“There is nothing to forgive girl, just don’t leave without notice again”

“I won’t” he released you so he could take a good look at you

“You are with child, we are going to dine, and celebrate, and you are going to tell me everything about your journeys, we heard you were quite busy”

“I will tell you father” you giggled, “of the wonders I’ve seen”

It was way past the hour of the bat when you managed to come back to your chambers, all giggly and happy on wine. You found Harwin sleeping peacefully, and changed your clothes to your nightgown and climbed on the bed with him. 

If he was awake he didn’t show it. And you quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, content, happy, feeling warmth in the chest and extrangely safe in Harwin’s arms. 

The next morning you were feeling a little hot, and you had trouble breathing, and you soon discovered it was because you had Harwin’s arm around your middle

“You have a heavy arm, husband” you complained, and he was already awake

“I wish to hold you close, for I fear you are going to leave me again” you released yourself from his grip, only to turn in the bed to look at him

“I’m very sorry” you confessed, under his loving gaze, “when I saw my own nephew, and his likeness to you I saw my future, a future in which you will father my sister many other sons, and I couldn’t stand it, to see the resemblance of them and our own children” you whispered, “and everyone would know…” he shushed you gently, washing away your concerns

“Do not think that because is not going to happen” he said gently

“It did happen, Harwin, don’t you think people will see that he is not Laenor’s son?” you whispered, “Imagine that poor boy’s life, and what is going to be”

“There is nothing we can do” he whispered, “it’s done”

“There is something” you said in whispers, “we are going to protect that boy, whatever it takes, we will protect him, you hear me?” he smiled to you, “the King, me, you, we are going to be so fucking blind everyone is going to question their own minds”

“Gods I fucking love you”, he whispered, and he leaned in to kiss you but you stopped him with a finger on his lips

“Not yet” you muttered, “And I believe that was the first time you told me you love me” you whispered

“It certainly isn't going to be the last”, he growled.

“Is it true? about Harrenhal?”, you looked up at him

“Is that something you would entertain?” he asked. And you thought about it, Harrenhal was an old and haunted place, it made you shiver, but if it was any other castle, you would have loved to move there, with Harwin, and your growing belly, you knew it. “I know the palace is a ghostly place…” he muttered like he could read your mind

“We can build a new one” you whispered like it was nothing. Looking at his big eyes, and in his face was a content smile. 

Taglist! ❤️

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Thank you all for reading! this is really amazing! I love when people comment, and interact with the story, it means THE WORLD to me.

The next chapter might take a while longer to come, and if you want to discover what happened in that dinner... I might write a one-shot about it.

I might say... how do you feel about long time-jumps? like in the series?

#harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong #ser harwin x reader #harwin strong x targaryen reader #harwin strong #harwin x reader #harwin breakbones #rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #misguidedhotd

[lemons3ason]

Vinsmoke Brothers React To You Coming Back After Their Father Took You From Them!

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

ICHIJI VINSMOKE

“How dare you bring that vermin here with you.”, Judge growled scowling down at his only living grandchild.

Once again he attempted to marry Ichiji off to some spoiled princess from a random kingdom but instead Ichiji would use his infant daughter Asami as an excuse to get out of the engagements. The red haired father simply scoffed as he made his way to the Phoenix Kingdom’s dining hall where the family waited. The princess looked so excited when he entered the room until she noticed the small baby resting his arms, her mood suddenly turned sour. Ichiji sighed and sat across from the girl as he cradled his sleeping daughter against his chest as the parents began to speak amongst themselves. The Queen seemed extremely interested in Ichiji’s daughter, something seemed so familiar about the small infant.

“Pardon me asking but Prince Ichiji does that child have a mother?”, The Queen asked.

“She did unfortunately she passed away due to some unforgivable reason after child birth. It’s been two months since I lost her and in all honesty I don’t intend to remarry so this is a waste of time.”, he admitted much to his father’s disgust.

The story furthered the Queen’s suspicions on the child, she stood up and walked over to him taking in the child’s complete image, she smiled for a brief moment and gently tussled the little girl’s soft (h/c) locks. “H-her mother didn’t happen to be a girl named (Y/n), did it?”, she asked her voice cracking as your name escaped her lips. Ichiji’s reaction was enough to tell her the truth, he tried to soften his body as quickly as he could but he had already been caught.

“You said she passed away, how?”

Ichiji bit his tongue not sure of how to truly word it without making himself cry, “My Father ordered her execution.”, he sighed. The Queen smiled and stood back up to her feet, “Would you like me to reunite you with my first born daughter?”, she asked softly as her husband came to her side.

Ichiji stared at them puzzled, how could they bring back someone dead? He quickly noticed red flames erupt from the Queen’s back and she smiled as her grandchild reacted to her abilities, her own little pair of flame wings flapping softly behind her. Ichiji stared down at his child in awe, your mother smiled and ordered Ichiji to follow along down to some chambers that seemed to be piled up with ashes. One room in specific held one small pile of ash, “It is said that the Phoenix bird was born a female, in our land there is a story that a Phoenix fell in love with a human and bore a child that would later become the first Queen of our land. All the females in the Phoenix kingdom are born with the abilities to be reborn, no matter how they die their body becomes ash and returns home where they choose to stay dormant or be reborn into a new life. These ashes appeared about a month ago and I knew that they belonged to my (Y/n), our kingdom was raided and she was kidnapped by pirates, for years I waited for her return but now I see she’s still needed. (Y/n) left behind a daughter and a man that loved her so that should be more then enough to bring her back.”, she took little Asami from his arms and kneeled down before your ashes. Asami’s little wings touched your ashes igniting them into flame, Ichiji watched in shock as Asami was lifted into the flame, he was worried but then he heard something. Your laughter, your laughter resonated from the flames, he watched them disappear and you remained with your daughter in your arms and tears falling from your beautiful (e/c) hues.

“My beautiful little girl. I’m so sorry you had to wait so long to meet mommy.”, you smiled kissing her small face.

“(Y/n)?”

Your heart skipped a beat to his voice, you looked up to see Ichiji staring at you in shock. You tears spilled faster as you raced to his arms, you cried into his chest emotionally overwhelmed to see him again after what felt like an eternity. His shock was quickly replaced by his urge to hold you tight, his arms wrapped around your shoulder holding your head closer to his chest as he cried your name into your head softly kissing your (h/c) locks until you looked up to kiss him on the lips. Your mother smiled seeing you so happy with your family, at least now she knew you were safe and sound with someone who loved you dearly.

“I’ve missed you so much Ichiji. I’m so sorry.”, you apologized feeling stupid for letting yourself die and leaving him to suffer parenthood alone.

“S-shut up. Don’t you dare apologize for this, it was my fault for not keeping you close. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but I’m so glad you’re back.”, he sighed kissing your face desperately as if he’d lose you again. Your hand cupped his cheek softly as you deepened the kiss making up for lost time. Little Asami started to cry from being crushed between you both, you apologized and softly cradled her in your arms softly hushing her back to sleep. Ichiji smiled, he was finally complete, you were back thanks to a miracle. Once you had all returned to the dining hall Judge spat out his wine seeing you alive. He dared to say something but Ichiji quickly wrapped an arm around you and activated his raid suit, “You will not take her from me again. She is my wife and I don’t give a shit if you approve or not.”, he growled receiving a kiss from you that made his anger quickly disappear. You moved back to the Germa Kingdom and everyone celebrated your return. A huge party was held for you and everyone drank till they passed out, with Asami in her crib next to your bed you stood in front of your huge window and looked out over the night sky and sea. You hummed feeling his lips press against your cheek and turned to kiss his lips once more, “I’ve missed this, I’ve missed you.”, you smiled staring up at your husband.

He picked you up in his arms and laid you in the bed, for once he’ll sleep happily in your warmth that he’s missed all this time. You felt safe in his arms and slowly drifted off to bed happy to be back home with your family.

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

Niji Vinsmoke

Niji was already the cruelest of his brothers but now that he lost the only woman that mattered to him his heart was frozen solid and broken. Even as he killed all these innocent fishmen he didn’t feel a shred of pity or remorse, yet when he was just about to finish off the elder of the group he was quickly stopped by a voice that only his heart could react to.

“Niji, stop don’t!”, you screamed.

He scanned his surroundings for the source of the voice and found a single woman with short (h/c) hair gasping for breath, “Child no run away.”, the old fish man cried out.

“Niji stop please. Not these people.”, you cried just feet away from the blue haired Vinsmoke.

He released the old fish man from his grip and stumbled toward you, the old man begged Niji to take his life instead of yours but when he came to a stop just in front of you he understood what was going on. Niji couldn’t believe his eyes, you were supposed to be dead and yet here you are. You didn’t fear him in the slightest, you opened up your arms to him for an embrace but he stayed where he was. Just a few feet out of reach taking in your appearance. Scars littered your skin, your hair now cut short, but still you smiled at him as if nothing had happened.

“Child get away from him!”, your grandfather yelled pulling you towards him with his shark tail.

Niji quickly snapped his neck towards your new position and growled at the old man for taking you from him. You calmed your grandfather down and he stared into your eyes looking for a hint of fear or lie in your words but he found nothing but love and let you go. You stepped towards Niji once again opening your arms for him, he raced towards you wrapping one arm around your waist and the other over your back burying your head in his shoulder with his hand as he whined your name.

“Y-You’re supposed to be dead.”, he stuttered.

You nodded your head gently pressing kisses against the skin of his neck that wasn’t covered by the scarf of his neck, “I know but I’m not. I should’ve been but my grandfather found me in the waters and patched me up and I didn’t drown because I’m a fish man hybrid.”, you explained.

He couldn’t believe it, he thought he lost you, he hugged you tightly even as you pulled down his goggles to look him in the eyes and gently brushed back his blue hair so you could enjoy his expression. His teeth gritted into a scowl as Niji tried to fight back his tears but the little kiss you pressed against his lips broke what little restraint he had. He kissed you roughly even through his tears, if you pulled away he chased your lips for more cupping your face in his hands to keep you in place. The battle had come to a standstill as everyone watched you both kiss away the minutes in your own little world.

“I thought I lost you.”, another kiss.

“All this time you were alive, I should’ve looked for you.”, another kiss to your cute plump lips.

“I thought you had died hating me for our fight. I’m sorry.”, another long passionate kiss until you had to pull away for breath.

“If you forgive me for being to afraid to go back then I’ll forgive you for the stupid fight. I can’t blame you for judge wanting to kill me it was obvious from the start that he hated me.”, you sighed resting your head against his chest smiling at the sound of his racing heartbeat.

He nodded kissing your face sweetly, he scooped you up in his arms like a princess and started carrying you away until your grandfather demanded he stopped, “Can’t you see I’m taking my wife back home.”, Niji growled in annoyance.

You smiled at your grandfather over Niji’s shoulder and reassured him that it would be alright, your grandfather allowed you to go. Niji’s troops quickly repaired all the destruction they had caused and respectfully buried the people they had killed while he returned to the small Germa ship with you. As soon as he had you in his quarters he sat you on his bedside and opened a drawer to return something to you, you smiled as he placed your necklace that Judge had taken from you back into your hands.

“I’ve been without you for a year, do you know how hard that was?”, Niji sighed resting his head against your knees.

His hands softly rubbed over your scars as he counted each one that he’d kiss as soon as you were home and safe. You smiled and leaned your head down until your forehead pressed against the top of his head.

“I’ve missed you, you jerk.”, you sighed.

“I love you.”

“I know Niji, I love you more. Come on get up here.”, you ordered opening your arms for him to rest in.

He smiled at you and tackled you into the mattress kissing your face, you had a lot of affection to catch up on but this time he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

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

Sanji Vinsmoke

The wedding was nearing but Reiju knew her brother wouldn’t be happy without you, after she had pulled your corpse away from his grasp she realized that you still had a weak pulse. You were alive! She quickly rushed you to the laboratory to let the doctors heal your wounds, she paid close attention to them to make sure they didn’t try anything funny with you, now as the day neared she watched your naked form in the healing tube softly breathing in the green liquid.

“Please (Y/n) don’t let Sanji go. He’s a good man with a good heart so please save him even if we die.”, she begged deactivating the machine so she could release you.

She quickly dried and clothed you before scooping you up in her arms and flying you back to the Thousands Sunny. Everyone was ecstatic to see you alright and to have you back, as their mission plan finalized you realized that no matter what you had to save Sanji. As everyone prepared for the wedding Nami presented you with short (f/c) backless dress that would stop just at your mid thigh. You put it on and quickly fixed your hair, you had to look decent since it was a wedding after all. You smiled finding the room that the Charlotte Children had locked away the weapons in and grabbed two handguns that would last you a bit until you had to use your devil fruit powers. As soon as the action began Sanji noticed your head of (h/c) hair and gasped, you were alive. From his place at the top of the wedding cake he screamed your name making it echo over the crowd, you smiled and blew him a kiss before returning to fighting the Big Mom pirates. Once everyone was on Bege’s fortress Sanji tackled you, your giggles quickly erupted in the room as the emotional blonde kissed your lips hungrily.

“S-sanji wait I can’t breathe.”, you whined playfully.

“You can breathe again when I’m done getting my fill of you, I thought you died.”, he sighed holding you carefully as if you were a fragile doll.

You smiled and held his face in your hands before slamming a kiss to his stupid lips, “I’ve missed you so much you idiot.”, you cheered smothering his face in your lipstick.

Sanji smiled, his eyes forming into hearts due to your affection but the fight wasn’t over yet. Until Luffy was back on the ship it was a battlefield on the sea, you worried until Sanji was back on the deck with Luffy. Once they were sailing away from Big Mom territory Sanji cooked an extravagant feast for all of you, his food was delicious as always and he looked so happy to be back in a kitchen. After dinner he found you staring out over the ocean and noticed the scar from your stab wound poking out from the top of your tank top he sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist before softly kissing the sensitive skin.

“Sanji.”, you called sweetly.

He smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your cheek before resting his chin against your shoulder. You laughed at the feeling of his goatee against your skin but calmed down once you felt content. You don’t even remember how long you had been out but you were more then happy to be back at Sanji’s side.

“I’m glad you’re back and safe honey.”, you admitted leaning your head against his.

“As am I darling. Don’t scare me like that ever again though.”, he whined.

You nodded and moved in his arms so you could see his face, and once more placed a kiss to his lips before returning to your quarters.

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

Yonji Vinsmoke

You really were just a puppet, Yonji was so heartbroken by your experimentation that he couldn’t even bring himself to look at you. Every time he stared into your dead eyes he was reminded of how he failed you but his brothers loved to play around with you. They’d take you on missions and would return with you cut up or bruised from the fights, but today as they walked to the dining hall Niji had decided to pick a fight with you and you simply nodded your head in agreement. Yonji’s body froze the moment Niji’s knee connected with your head sending his Henry’s Needle attack through your skull, blood poured from your ears and nose from the shock as your body was thrown into the wall. Yet despite your injuries you listened to Niji’s orders to stand up. Yonji’s stomach lurched in pain watching his brother’s fist meet your stomach but your killing instinct kicked in, you held his wrist tightly and pulled a blade from your belt thrusting it into Niji’s neck. The blade shattered of course due to his hardened skin but your attempt to kill him angered him, he slammed his hand against your face shoving your head into the wall over and over again until you fell unconscious. Niji chuckled once his hand was stopped by his younger brother, he let go both of them listening to the sound of your limp body hitting the floor, “A broken toy is no fun, guess we’ll have to get a new one.”, Niji laughed taking Ichiji’s side as they continued onto the dining room.

“You idiot!”, Reiju growled kicking her brother in the head.

Yonji took the hit he didn’t care if his sister was mad because nothing could beat the rage he had inside his heart, he picked you up in his arms holding you close as he walked back to his room. He ordered one of the doctors to come and heal your injuries immediately but the impact to your head was likely to cause a concussion if not a coma. Yonji held your hand in his remembering the good old days when you’d wake him up with kisses and cook for him but now it was all just a fading dream.

“Damn it (Y/n), please just say something.”, he sighed tears threatening to feel from he cold eyes.

“Y-Yonji my head hurts.”, you sobbed pulling him out of his train of thought.

The green haired man looked up to see you in tears with your free hand holding the side of your head because of the pain. Yonji gasped seeing the light in your eyes and smiled. He gently leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the side of your head before stealing a kiss from your lips. He wanted to scream and yell that you were back but if you were in pain then he had to keep himself quiet to avoid making your pain worse. Yonji quietly hushed you, he ordered for a servant to bring you pain medication before taking up the other half of the bed.

“Oh (Y/n) you’re back.”, he chuckled softly rubbing circles against your head in hopes that it would help the pain.

“Where...where have I been?”, you asked.

Getting to hear your voice again made Yonji so happy, Niji’s electricity must’ve reversed the effects of your experimentations. Why couldn’t he have been a jerk earlier?! Yonji insisted that it wasn’t important, for some odd reason you couldn’t remember anything but that morning when you baked him cookies but it was probably for the best because now you didn’t suffer. Once you had eaten the pain medication he pulled you right back into bed spooning you, Yonji was never this affectionate but you certainly weren’t complaining when he started peppering your head and face with kisses.

“I love you Yonji.”, you hummed triggering something in him.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“Yonji, I love you.”, you giggled kissing his rough lips.

He made you repeat that phrase over and over again until a new spark lit up inside both of you. Yonji wasn’t seen the rest of the day, it didn’t bother anyone really but Reiju was curious. The next morning she went to check on Yonji only to see you both passed out in bed and a new ring glimmering on your finger. Looks like everything had turned out for the best.

#x reader #one piece x reader #sanji x reader #sanji scenario #sanji vinsmoke #ichiji x reader #vinsmoke ichiji #yonji x reader #vinsmoke yonji #vinsmoke niji #niji x reader

[smelted-applejuice]

Left Behind.

Parings; c!Wilbur Soot x Reader Pronouns; she/her Desc; Wilbur Soot left too soon, way too soon.  TW: DEATH, MENTIONS OF DEATH, MOURNING, VANISHING TWIN SYNDROME, PREGNANCY.  

Requests are open, feeling angsty today  -

The ear-piercing scream that was heard throughout L’manberg was evident. If it wasn't for [YourName]’s brother-in-law, she probably would have hit her head and injured herself. Tommy gently set [YourName] down, in the same amount of shock as her, he watched [YourName] slam the ground and beg for Wilbur to be alive. 

“PLEASE! PLEASE OH MY GOD,” [YourName] sobbed, holding the ground. Her fingers dug into the ruined dirt, her nails getting covered in dirt and soot from the TNT. Philza’s face softened, he had murdered his son for a good cause, but to watch his daughter-in-law break down was just as horrible. He watched [YourName] push herself up and make her way over to the cave Wilbur had dug out for this operation, helping her up, and stood there watching [YourName] cradle Wilbur’s face. 

There, Wilbur laid in the lap of his wife with a smile on his face. The sword that was used to murder him remained in his body as it was hard for Philza to even think about yanking it out, that was his boy, his son, his pride and joy, and he just murdered him. Wilbur’s eyes remained closed no matter how much [YourName] whispered out begging for him to open them up. 

Philza placed a hand on her shoulder, gently forcing her up from her spot. She was too tired to fight back, she just laid limp reaching out for her husband despite the reassurance that he won’t come back- [YourName] believed he would. She just knew Wilbur would awaken and come join her in bed and hold her close just as he did twice before. 

But he never did. 

Wilbur never came, and Tubbo was assigned president while [YourName] mourned the death of her husband. Fundy couldn’t understand why [YourName] was so attached to such a person, but then he remembered she loved him and had a connection with Wilbur that he didn't have. As jealous as he was, Fundy remained around and built a home for himself and his step-mother. 

When everything was finalized, finished, and moved into, it scared everyone when [YourName] fainted in the middle of New L’manberg. Fundy was a moment too late and poor [YourName] had to get stitched for the cut on her forehead. She and Fundy had assumed it was just because she was mourning, but when Philza sat down in front of them after doing more research, they both knew it was way more. 

Fundy placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder and prepped for the news. “[YourName], you’re six weeks pregnant. Twins. I assume you didn’t know this?” Philza spoke, “S-Six weeks?! TWINS?!”  [YourName] repeated frantically making Philza nod. Fundy blinked a few times before letting out a soft scream of a fox, “I’M A BROTHER?!” he asked repeatedly pacing back and forth. “Six weeks, Wilbur died four weeks ago- oh my god, I haven’t been with anyone else, oh my god, Philza-“ [YourName] spoke sending herself into a panic, “That's great, you have a piece of his legacy no one else has..” Phil said gently holding her hands.

[YourName] began to cry, glad to have such a thing with her but mourned her husband. She looked up and realized the excitement had worn off and Fundy and now he was panic pacing. His ears were down and his tail was no longer wagging, he anxiously played with his jacket, so [YourName] dropped Philza and made his way over to Fundy to calm him down. She played with his hair, held his face, and hugged him gently, everything she could to ground and remind Fundy that it’s all okay. It just gave more proof how despite everything happening to her right now, she was ready to parent. And that’s what makes a good parent, a good parent.

Philza softly smiled and sighed out, “Despite everything you’ve gone through, you’re still there for Fundy. You’re a good mother, [YourName].” he explained with a smile. [YourName] glanced away from Fundy for a moment and gently smiled, “Oh, Uhm, thank you?” she said dropping her hands to her step-son’s elbows. Fundy hugged [YourName] while she was still distracted, just sucking in as much [YourName] time he could get before leaving and returning home. Fundy would admit, he’s worried about being left behind, but wouldn’t voice them until dinner. [YourName] thanked Fundy for the food and ate quietly until he spoke up, “You won’t leave me right?” he asked randomly. [YourName] was confused at first, but then it clicked, “Your father wasn’t the best at expressing love once he had a focus. I can do that, even with a new baby coming around- I’ll always have time for you, Fundy. You’re my son, doesn’t matter if I didn’t give birth to you or not.” [YourName] explained with a smile. That smile brought comfort to Fundy, instead of talking he returned focus to his food. For the next few weeks, no updates were given about [YourName]. After her stitches were taken out and things returned normal, she would begin showing- that’s how everyone found out Wilbur was going to have a second kid. Because of this, Tubbo made sure Ghostbur had zero access to [YourName], not wanting to trigger anything inside of him that would result in a negative reaction. Ghostbur wasn’t Wilbur and who knows the powers that ghost has hiding behind him. “I just want to see my wife! How’s [YourName]?” Ghostbur huffed, crossing his arms but quickly recovered floating around Tubbo who was working hard on some paperwork. Tubbo frowned for a moment, he was struggling harder and harder every day to hide [YourName] from Ghostbur. “She’s fine, she misses you too. Now, Ghostbur, go bother Philza, I need to make a few choices.” Tubbo mumbled watching Ghostbur rush through a few walls to return outside and find his father. Ghostbur floated through the top of Philza’s house where he had expected Phil to be, but instead, he was nowhere to be found. He gently floated downstairs, having yet to reveal himself, where he heard his wife’s voice and Philza talk. Joy rushed through his spirited body but halted when he processed that [YourName] was crying. 

“It happens, and luckily one of the twins remained. You didn’t cause this, it’s natural.” Philza comforted, [YourName] nodded “I just- I feel horrible, I didn’t even know that was possible! Wilbur would be so upset” she explained. “Wilbur wouldn’t be upset at you though, some pregnancies result in one twin absorbing the other- and this was one of the cases,” Phil explained letting [YourName] lean against him. She took the water in front of her and drank some of it, not even noticing Ghostbur watching from the steps. 

[YourName] stayed for a few more minutes, but left soon after. “[YourName] is Pregnant?” Ghostbur asked Philza, making him jump and nearly drop the glass he had in his hand. “GHOSTBUR!” Philza yelped, “Oh, hehe sorry, but my dear [YourName]. I-Is Wilbur the father?” Ghostbur asked softly. Phil debated on his next move and softly sighed “You’re the father, you were Wilbur before you were Ghostbur'' he explained gently, he didn’t want to make the ghost worry. “I should go talk to her-“ Ghostbur said, turning around and going to dash off, “NO-“ Philza yelled. 

Ghostbur stopped in his tracks, “Why not?! First Tubbo, now you, I just want to see my wife!” he pouted before pulling some blue out and calming down. Philza sighed, “She’s not ready, she's fragile.” he whispered toward his dead son “She probably will react negatively and confusingly, and we don’t want that or her to get hurt.” he added trying to dumb down their reasoning. Ghostbur just sighed, accepting it as it is. 

It didn’t stop Ghostbur from watching her though, he would go invisible and follow Fundy around the house and watched as his son helped out [YourName] around. “You’re coming up seven months, you need to be careful, I can hear dad screaming at us.” Fundy explained easing his mother into a chair and picking up what she was trying to get, “He’d have to suck it up, I can't be held down.” [YourName] jokingly pouted. Fundy just smiled and patted his mother’s hair, “I’m making lunch, I’ll be back.” he said leaving for the kitchen. 

Ghostbur sat there and watched [YourName] shift in her spot but gently place a hand over top of her enlarged stomach. The womb that housed his and [YourName]’s baby. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but from the observations he’s made, Philza was right. Every night she’d wake up and reach over, what he remembered, to be his side of the bed and proceed to cry on a bad day into his old L’manberg coat. He obviously left his mark on his wife and he didn’t mean the baby.

Around the time [YourName] was suppose to go into labor, her emotions did a one-eighty and she no longer searched for Wilbur’s side of the bed for him or found herself begging for her husband to be alive. She didn’t know why, but it began feeling as if Wilbur was there and holding her hand through every step of the way, and that's why when she gave birth she was more than ready. While Ghostbur took this as she no longer missed him, the reality was [YourName] was just trying to be mentally there for her child. She couldn’t be the one waking up in the middle of the night crying, she had to be stronger. Ghostbur was in distress but didn’t want to tell anyone he’s been stalking his wife and child. He would get scolded by Philza, he had told him to leave them alone. But he just couldn’t he gave into his curious nature and just ended up hurting himself more, he couldn’t speak to [YourName] or give her blue on the nights she needed it more and he sure as hell blamed himself for it. He blamed himself, not Wilbur, and it hurt even worse than he thought it would. 

The morning that [YourName] gave birth, it was hot and humid which added nothing good for the woman. Fundy was off the rails with stress, rushing around to get Philza. He didn’t know that Philza had taught Niki how to assist with labor, so now Fundy had to rush from Philza’s place to Niki’s place which meant an extra ten-twenty minutes of rushing around and leaving his mother in pain at the house. He didn’t want to leave [YourName] alone for more than he had to. By the time he returned to the house with Niki and Philza, [YourName] had managed to get into a spot and had everything right. Philza softly chuckled, “Might as well have the child on your own!” he said jokingly as he double-checked everything was there. Fundy hissed in surprise while [YourName] groaned, not really here for jokes just wanted this to get over with already! Niki shook her head, “It’s okay, [YourName], we’re going to give birth to this baby and the world will have another Soot on their hands!” she comforted patting [YourName]’s leg. The birth lasted HOURS, never in [YourName]’s life had she felt the pain she felt when giving birth to her child. As it was described by her mother, everything had been lifted off her shoulders and the pain was no longer there. The cries of her baby had rung throughout the home and outside she could hear the squeaks and excited yells from Techno and Tommy. They were just here for moral support- well WHEN did they get here? What the fuck? While [YourName] held her child, which turned out to be a girl, she thought back on the many conversations she and Wilbur ended up having before his death. Children were often a topic that was brought up when the future was mentioned, mostly after their marriage when Fundy was still younger. They had agreed on the name Fern, for ferns were pretty and it would- “Fit my perfect Princess,” Wilbur said placing a kiss upon his wife’s head. [YourName] giggled and grabbed Wilbur’s dirty L’manberg coat and dropped it in the water for washing. “You’re crazy, we’re not having a child while we’re at war, Darling.” [YourName] said looking up at him, “I know, but I think Fern would be the perfect name for our daughter, Rowan for a boy! Don’t they sound lovely?” Wilbur asked squatting across from his wife. Fundy had fallen asleep under the tree close by, this moment was perfect. “Absolutely” [YourName] replied leaning over the bucket and kissing her husband’s lips. “Fern.” [YourName] whispered gently rubbing a finger across her daughter’s cheek, Niki looked up from washing her hands and hummed “What?” Niki asked confused. “Fern. I think Fern would be perfect for her. Wilbur often mentioned that name.”  [YourName] reiterated, “Oh! That is a cute name, shall I let the boys know they’re able to come in now?” she asked making the new mother nod. Niki left and entered all the boys under the roof, they entered quietly as possible, Tommy nervously fiddling with his shirt sleeve. [YourName] smiled softly looking up, “Hello boys, meet your niece, sister, and granddaughter; Fern.” she said revealing the sleeping newborn in her arms. Philza smiled, had stepped out of the room, and let  [YourName] have more privacy as the birth went on. Fundy gasped at the smallness while Techno did his best not to melt on stop. Tommy was the first to speak, “It looks like him.” he whispered in awe, Techno nudged his brother harshly making [YourName] giggle. “It’s fine, Wilbur is her father.” she hummed. Finally, her family was mostly complete. A few months would pass, Fern would hit important milestones like eating, teething, crawling, all of those- but it didn’t feel the same without Wilbur. Wilbur must’ve had fox in him because after Fern’s first week, [YourName] and Fundy both noticed itty bitty fox ears and tail on the child. Fundy was beyond excited to show his sister how hunting works as a fox hybrid and how to pick the right berries, it was just a lovely sight to see. For each step, Fundy was there for his sister and his step-mother. For once, Fundy wanted to make Wilbur proud but in his own way. By taking care of his family, something his father couldn’t do. One day, [YourName] got away from Fern and Fundy. Today would be brother and sister bonding while [YourName] had a mother’s day off. She didn’t know what to do, but she finally sucked it up and got dressed. Today would be the first time [YourName] doing what she’s doing. It had been a year since Wilbur’s death and she had yet to visit his grave, and with no one home, she left to visit. To finally be His Visitor.

#dream smp x reader #wilbur soot x reader #c!wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #Wilbur soot x y/n #c!wilbur soot x you #c!Wilbur Soot x y/n #mcyt x reader #x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XVII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader and Zemo try to figure out what’s next.

Note: Hey, I banged this out quicker than expected. This part went longer than I expected to not as much happened as I thought hahaha. But here we go, again.(I will try to update the masterlist asap)

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Two Summers Later

The sun raised beads of sweat across your brow, even in the shadow of the tree. A gentle breeze rolled over the grass now and again, a soft sort of heat. You laid across the blanket in your thin dress, a subtle movement beside you, low babbling and grasping fingers. You breathed in the scent of pollen and watched the lush leaves sway above.

The footsteps were light but he was careful not to frighten you. The baby girl murmured, over a year old now. She stood, unsteadily, and he caught her before she stumbled too far. His shadow loomed above you as he lifted Elina and smiled at her round cheeks.

“How is my little baroness?” he cooed as he bounced her and her gibberish grew louder as she grabbed at his pale tunic, “my lady?” he peered down at you, “you look… serene.”

“She likes to watch the cloud but it’s much too bright today,” you sat up and grabbed your cane from against the trunk. Lord Zemo offered his hand and helped you to your feet, “so we have watched the bloom instead.”

“She is getting big. More agile,” he commented as she tugged at his beard. He’d grown it over the winter but hadn’t cut it even in the heat. She liked to pet it and you suspected that was the reason for his obstinacy, “how will you keep up with her?”

“I have learned,” you poked him with the tip of your cane, “still learning.”

“Very quickly,” he praised, “the accent is better,” he pinched two fingers together, “I almost believe you a woman of this land.”

“Sometimes I believe it myself,” you went to the bench and sat heavily. Your hip never healed quite as it had been before so you limped with the carved wood capped with silver and made the best of it, “bring her here,” you set the can aside and pulled the thin scarf over your shoulders, “she should eat.”

“I told you, a wet nurse would do her better,” he neared and handed her over after a final peck on her cheek, “and she is getting older. She eats at the table now.”

“She will have some proper food when we get in,” you covered her against your chest and unlaced the front of your gown, “I like having her close.”

He nodded and paced through the grass. He removed his silk cap and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He was anxious as of late, you noticed only because it was an unusual trait for him. He sighed as he tucked his hat into his belt.

“Would you tell me?” you asked sharply as Elina latched.

“Tell you what?” he tilted his head coyly.

“What makes you uneasy?” you urged.

The tugging in your chest calmed you as you cradled your daughter close. When she was born, that had been difficult. She reminded you of her father then but now she was yours. She was the only gift he’d ever given you.

“It is… complicated,” he said with a frown, “I think it best we put the child down before we talk on it.”

“If you wish,” you relented, “Werner says she is doing well. I went to him this morning.”

“And you?” Zemo crossed his arms, “does he say you are doing well?”

You kept one arm around Elina and unthinkingly brushed the scar that stretched from your hairline to your chin, a rippled line along your cheek, one of a dozen markers of that fateful day. You still dreamed of it but they weren’t so much nightmares as vague memories.

“I will need the cane so long as I live,” you said and dropped your arm back under the scarf, “the scars will fade but not entirely. I suppose none of that matters.”

He nodded and rubbed his chin as he began to pace again, “back from the dead,” he mused, “we have a legend here, about a woman, a queen…” he went on, “she married a king who did not love her nor she him. He wanted another and he was… quite intent on it. So he accused her of adultery and witchery and passed on her the harshest sentence; she was drawn and quartered, pulled apart by horses.

“We have since done away with such punishments, too savage, but the legend goes that they buried the parts of her and the king married his lover on her grave. The gods saw it as an affront, the lies, the trial held in their names, the death imparted in the same vein, and then a mocking marriage on the site of their sins…

“In her casket, her body reformed though she still showed the signs of her fate. She climbed out of her resting place and visited her king in the night. She’d never done that before you see because he had no love for her, he never even tried, and she tore him piece by piece, worse even then the horses. Fingers, toes, tongue… balls, every bit of him plucked little by little until he was nothing.

“The legend never did say where she went after that, her grave was found disturbed and her body gone. Those women who suffer with violent or cruel men, they pray to her, they burn candles for her, and even, they kill their men for her.”

“Why are you saying all this?” you interrupted as you wiped up your chest and clumsily tied up the laces of your dress as Elina slobbered down it.

“Because I see you are reformed like the queen but I wonder, where is your sense of vengeance?”

You were quiet as you fixed your dress and lifted Elina above the scarf to pat her back. Soon she would no longer take the nipple and you were stubborn to keep it up for so long but the time passed and the thought of separation frightened you. Soon she would be old enough to realise how odd everything was and she would ask questions. You weren’t sure if you could ever answer them.

“Take her please,” you held her out and he came to lift her. He set her down on her feet instead and held her hand as she took some steps. She grew more bold by the minute. He bent as he ushered her around. You planted your cane in the ground and stood, “vengeance,” you said carefully, “I remember you warned me not to trust you, is that why? Are you ready to use me against him?”

“I always knew you were clever,” he smiled as Elina bent her legs and bounced in place. He chuckled at her and suddenly scooped her up. He tossed her and caught her as she trilled in excitement, “the time comes closer but the path is not clearer.”

You watched him as he stilled your daughter and balanced her against his side, “I don’t know if I can ever face him again,” you confessed.

“That is not what I ask,” he said, “it is not what I intend but...the winds begin to blow and I must let them carry me.”

You followed him as he set off towards the castle, The Tower Zemo, a bastion of brick among the grasslands. It was so tall one could see for miles in any direction and it could be seen in turn from just as far. He was patient as your cane plunked down after each step and he made silly faces at Elina.

“You have bided me longer than I expected. And her,” you said as you approached the open doors of the castle. The stairs were another task but you’d learned to take them with your hip.

“Her? You think I forsake her her father? She is nothing like him,” he replied as he waited at the tip of the steps, “and she is all the good parts of you. All that he didn’t take.”

“I am indebted to you, I am aware of that, but you do not attempt to collect your dues,” you challenged as you came level to him, “it makes me wary.”

“Would it be too… ridiculous to say that she is payment enough,” he smiled at your daughter, “she has brightened many of my days here.”

“It is because I know how things are. How it works among you noblemen,” you countered, “there is something more you want.”

“Tess,” he called and the pudgy maid appeared, “she is hungry, see that she is fed before she is laid down.”

“My lord,” Tess took the child eagerly and poked her nose playfully, “come here, little poppy.”

You watched her go as she began to sing to Elina. Her voice carried through the corridors as her wide hips swayed and her white hair wisped from under her cap. The old woman had seen your daughter into the world and since helped keep her there.

“So what is it you haven’t told me?” you turned on Zemo.

“Wouldn’t you like to sit?” he asked slyly.

“You are welcome to recline, sir, but I would hear you now. I’ve waited long enough,” you insisted.

“Well…” he took a deep breath and walked ahead of you. He turned back and clapped his hand together as the summer flowed in through the open doors, “I must send you away.”

“Send me away?” you gulped and looked to the door which Tess had just taken your daughter through.

“You will have Elina, I am not heartless,” he said, “though I will miss the little baroness.”

“Where are we going?” you quivered in relief.

“I have a castle on the lake, Heinrich’s Creek,” he explained, “it is a lovely little place. My mother’s favourite of my family’s holds. It is far away from court, further than this, and safe. Only my blood knows where it lies and… so only me and those who I would have escort you.”

“And why? Why do we have to go? Why now?” you prodded.

“I have received a letter from your King Samuel, co-signed by my own king. A party is on the road already and I have been once more tasked with hosting the negotiations. Your people are persistent. They will come here and I will represent the kingdom in these meetings and hopefully I can appease them quick enough that I needn’t worry about them sniffing around,” Zemo bristled, “I have not been allowed the privilege to know of who I host but any in the capital for the tournament, they would know the woman who gave them such a violent finale.”

“And after?”

“We will see how it unfolds first. It will be a chance to gain a measure of the climate. I might even hear after your former keeper, then I will decide what needs be done,” his dark eyes narrowed as mischief ticked in his cheek.

“Why?” you asked, “why cling to it?”

“I am as stubborn as he,” he said carefully, “I was willing to set it aside but he could not. And, my lady, if you haven’t the fire left for your vengeance then I can simply take it upon my own wrath. 

“Perhaps it is low of me but how he treated me, how he chased me out even if it did prove convenient to my deceit, it cannot be forgotten. And your people, the war I fought against them, they come to us for help and yet they still boast of their victory. I was there, no one won those battles.”

“So it is all a game of war?”

“Oh, no, I do not long for another war but… retribution leaves few options for the wronged,” he said.

You lowered your chin and moved around him. You sat on the stool by the wall and leaned back against the stone. “And if it put Elina in danger?”

“That is the last thing I want to do. That is why I would send you away.”

“But you said it yourself, you will have need for me… what then?”

He sniffed and his sole scuffed on the floor, “I promised you Elina’s safety, her life. You knew yours wasn’t part of the bargain.”

“I know but… if you--”

“I have friends who can see to the girl. I have made arrangements for the little baroness.”

“But--”

“It was never a title I gave her lightly,” he intoned, “she has noble blood and I have no heir. She will grow, she will live, she will flourish.”

You gripped your cane tightly and ran your nails along your skirt, “when do we leave?”

“Within the month. The party will not be here so soon, their progress will be hampered by the heat. There are droughts in the west.”

“And we will be safe at the Creek?”

“Impenetrable,” he assured, “enjoy your time there with your daughter.”

“While it lasts, right?” you uttered.

He looked away grimly and brushed his knuckles against this beard, “we both knew this wouldn’t go on forever.”

“Yes, we knew,” you stood and held your hip, “but you can’t blame me for hoping it would.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #hue and cry #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #medieval au #au #medieval!au #marvel #mcu #captain america #spider-man #steve rogers #peter parker #sam wilson #falcon

[sour--disposition]

Little Limbs

This is inspired by an idea from the lovely @simp4sidemen, I hope I did your idea justice 🥰

-

Simon Minter x Fem!Reader

-

please check my masterlist to see if requests are open

The ring sat heavy on your finger. It had, after all, only been 2 months since Simon had presented you with the promise ring. 

After a beautiful date at a rooftop bar by the Thames, he’d pulled out a black velvet box, opened it and slid it across the table to you. “Is this what I think it is?”, you asked hesitantly.

“No”, Simon chuckled at the nervousness in your voice. “No, it’s not that. It’s a promise ring”, he told you, gently, nervously.

“Oh”, you were speechless, something that didn't usually happen around Simon, people usually couldn't get a word in edgeways around the two of you.

“It’s a promise that one day it will be what you thought it was. Its a promise that I’ll love you for as long as you’ll keep me. It’s a promise of me, to you, for you”, he said, fingers fidgeting over the box lid as his eyes held yours.

Tears sprung to your eyes and you quickly reached up to stop their flow. “Shit, I didn't mean to make you cry”, Simon panicked.

“No, no!”, you rushed out. “It’s not like that, that was just really beautiful and so is the ring and so was tonight. You just caught me really off guard”, you told him through your watery laugh. Simon instantly relaxed into his chair, relieved.

“Can I?”, he asked, nodding towards your hand. You nodded, and he reached over, picking up your right hand and slipping the ring onto your ring finger. “Perfect fit”, he smiled.

“Everything okay?”, Simon’s voice asked, pulling you out of your trance. You looked up to him, smiling softly.

“Of course”, you told him simply. “Can I wear this today?”, you asked, holding up one of his black Sidemen Clothing hoodies.

“Of course”, he repeated, a smirk dancing across his face. You huffed at him, throwing your night shirt, the shirt Simon had taken off when he got into bed the night before, at him as you got dressed. “You can’t throw my own clothes at me as an insult, Y/N. It just doesn't work like that”, Simon laughed.

“It just doesn’t work like that”, you mocked in a high pitched, whiny voice as you pulled your head through the neck of the hoodie, careful not to get any make up on it. Simon laughed at you, picking up one of the countless decorative cushions you'd plagued his room with, hurling it at your thigh. “Truce!”, you called, throwing your hands in the air to surrender, already knowing you wouldn’t win in a play-fight with Mr. Lanky-Long-Limbs in the corner.

You followed Simon out of the bedroom, down to the parking garage of the apartment building and into the car. “Are you sure we’re a team, yeah?”, you asked him.

Simon had roped you in to the Sidemen’s second parenting video. There was no host this time, just 4 teams trying not to kill a plastic, robotic doll in the streets of London. You’d agreed, of course, but only if you’d be paired with Simon. You’d throw the baby at JJ’s head in the first hour, guaranteed, and you weren’t here to lose.

“Yeah, and if not, I’ll just swap with whoever you’ve ended up paired up with”, Simon smiled simply, turning his eyes back to the road. The rest of the car journey was a comfortable silence, filled only by the sounds of your joint Spotify playlist running through the speakers. Simon’s hand rested on your thigh as he drove through the streets of London, occasionally mindlessly drumming along with the music as you waited in traffic.

Once you’d pulled up to Vik’s apartment, Simon parked the car. He squeezed your thigh softly before unbuckling his seatbelt. “Are you sure you’re okay?”, he asked you, voice tinged with worry.

“Yeah, I promise, Si. I just have a lot on my mind at the moment”, you told him honestly. His worry didn't subside, if anything it only got worse.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”, he took ahold of your hand, his fingers running over the band resting on your finger. “You know I’m always gonna be here for you?”.

“I know, Si. I promise I’m okay. We can talk about it later, yeah?”, you told him, twisting your fingers to wrap them around his and hold his hand properly. “I love you”, you reminded him, leaning over to kiss him. “Now, come on, let’s go get a baby”.

Two hours later, you and Simon were strolling through a baby shop, looking for an outfit for your new child. “Y/N! Look how cute this is!”, Simon yelped, holding onto a tiny grey onesie that had ‘I love my Daddy’ written across it. “I think Petunia needs this”, he told you seriously.

“No, Petunia needs an outfit fit for a little lady. She wouldn’t be caught dead in grey, Simon. Gosh, do you not know your own daughter!”, you laughed, leading him over to the aisle that held clothes better suited to the size of your doll.

“Is it something you ever think about?”, Simon asked you, sifting through the little pink dresses in front of him. “Us, I mean... Having one”.

“I do, yeah”, you smiled up at him, leaning into his side. “Do you?”, you asked him, chewing on your lip. Simon’s brow furrowed.

“I do. I know you’ll make a great mum. I mean, if you can look after me and JJ drunk, you can do anything. I just... I don’t think I’d be a good dad”, he sighed, hand stilling on the flowery dresses.

“Why?”, you asked him, tilting your head up to look at him. “The fact that you worry you wouldn’t be a good father already shows that you care. Nobody knows how to be a parent until they have to, Si”, you told him softly, slipping your arm around his waist to rest your hand on his hip. “I think you’d make a great dad”, you smiled.

“Really?”, he asked you, eyes lighting up as he looked down to your face.

“Yeah, I mean look how much effort you put into youtube and streaming and fan interaction. That alone shows you can commit to looking after something. Yeah, its different than like... a whole baby... but in the last 9 years, you’ve never given up on it”.

Simon didn’t say anything after that, just wrapped his arms around you and held you close to his chest, dropping a kiss to the top of your head, before you moved on to find Petunia some shoes.

“Y/N, she won’t stop crying”, Simon stressed. The two of you were finished in the baby shop, getting ready to make your way over to the tills to pay, when Petunia decided that it was time for all hell to break loose. “What do I do?”, he panicked.

“You go outside with her and feed her and I’ll get this”, you told him, handing the nappy bag containing all of Petunia’s belongings over to Simon.

-

You were quite sure that the footage of yours, Simon’s and Petunia’s day would be positively, mind-bogglingly boring. It turns out that the one pair that actually function as a couple 24/7 make a really good team, who’d have guessed it?

Back at Vik’s apartment, the student cards were sorted out so you could see how well you’d all performed in parenting. It was no surprise when Harry and JJ’s baby came last, given that it returned to Vik’s missing an arm, a few toes and an eye. Ethan and Vik came next, somehow managing to shut the baby off 20 minutes into their day so there was barely any information to even report back. Josh and Tobi’s baby had survived, albeit a bit hungry and tired. But Petunia... yours and Simon’s little lady had come out on top.

“Oh, I’m so proud of Petunia”, you and Simon had gushed, like real proud parents. You showed the boys the picture of Simon asleep on the sofa, Petunia’s hand grasped tightly in yours.

“You didn’t have to show them that”, he huffed, nudging your side.

As Vik retired the babies to a spare-room, the rest of the guys set to ordering take out. “Who wants a drink?”, Vik asked as he walked back into the living room and kitchen area. A chorus followed, all reeling off several alcoholic beverages.

“I’ll just have lemonade”, you told him with a smile. After managing to convince Vik that, yes, you were sure you only wanted lemonade, you went and sat back down with Simon.

“I got you something today”, you told him once all the guys had got their drinks and found a seat. “Here”, you told him, handing him over a small gift box.

“What’s this for?”, Simon asked, turning the box over gently in his hands.

“Just open it”, you told him.

Simon pulled the lid off of the box. His jaw dropped. “You’re...”, he trailed off.

Inside the box lay two positive pregnancy tests and the tiny onesie he’d shown you earlier on in the day.

“I found out last week, I didn’t want to tell you until I’d been to the doctors and checked properly”, you told him.

“Oi, what is it?”, JJ asked loudly. Simon’s only response was to hold up the little outfit to show the guys. “I’m gonna be an uncle?”, JJ asked, a lot softer this time. His face had split into a grin, as had the rest of the guys.

“Y/N’s pregnant”, Simon said softly, as if he was trying to convince himself. He looked over at you, and then down to the baggy fabric of his hoodie over your stomach. “Can I?”, he asked.

“Of course. It’s your baby, Si”, you chuckled happily. He reached out a hand, laying it gently over your side. “Are you okay?”, you asked him gently.

“Vik, can we borrow the balcony?”, Simon asked, turning his head to face his friend but not letting his hand leave your body. Vik nodded quickly, pointing in the rough direction of the door since he already knew that you and Simon knew the way.

“Should I not have told you in front of everyone?”, you asked quietly. Instead of saying anything, though, Simon dropped down to his knees in front of you, letting his large hands cradle your sides. He dropped a kiss to stomach, just below your bellybutton, and you instantly felt better.

“Hello, little one. Daddy loves you, too”.

#simon minter imagine #miniminter imagine #simon minter #miniminter #sidemen imagine #sidemen imagines #sidemen oneshot #simon minter x reader #miniminter x reader #sidemen

[smallblip]

Gift for @free-pancakes both because she drew me the loveliest thing for this au and also because I love her. The bed’s cold without you😔 please come back home🥺💖

A thousand burning suns III

A thousand burning suns III

Her parents named her Mikasa after the strong resolve of the Ackermans. If anything, Mikasa lives up to her namesake. After all, she’s what remains of her family. She thinks about this as her fingers skim the scorched wall of her family hall- the spot where Levi’s portrait once resided.

Her fingertips come to rest on a spot where the paint is stubborn- in it, she sees the greys of his irises.

I found your daughter. She’s grown now. She says, the last grain of anger slipping through her hands like sand. He had left her alone. Alone to bear the responsibilities of being an Ackerman. And yet, Mikasa finds herself wondering if his daughter looks anything like him. I will fulfil my promise to both of you…

—

The girl is a strange mix of of her father and her mother. Behind her smile, a resolve that can only be an Ackerman’s, and behind her calamity, a storm that can only be conjured by a Zoë. And Mikasa’s breath is caught in her chest when she realises the girl has eyes are that are grey like Levi’s.

Mikasa draws her sword before her- the girl with the fire that can change the world. And her tribe kneels behind her- with her.

I am Mikasa Ackerman. Princess of the old tribe of Hizuru. Sister of Levi Ackerman.

And I pledge my allegiance to you.

—

“You don’t look like my father…” the girl says. She has the bluntness of both her parents combined and Mikasa rolls her eyes.

“My father had two wives...”

“Politics?”

“Foolishness.” Mikasa corrects. She doesn’t yet know what to think of the girl. All she knows is that her place is beside her. She doesn’t dare second guess her own decision. To do so meant the destruction of her people. “Just like your parents…” she adds.

And the girl laughs. She understands- there’s no denying that she’s the product of said foolishness. But a foolishness so beautiful she grows up with stories that furnish her parents’ absence. The girl grows up on love that transcends the melancholic ache of loss.

And Mikasa sees this. She sees this in the way the girl speaks to her following. Gentle like her mother, with a strength only Hanji wielded. And she feels the guilt clawing angrily at her guts. She had hated Hanji. Hated her brother because of Hanji. She never understood how a princess from across the sea with wild hair and the most boisterous laugh she’s ever heard had managed to bewitch her brother. The Ackermans have always been loyal. They’ve always been. Her father- to his dying breath- had been loyal, even her mother who had charged into battle with him. But everything changed when the Princess from the port kingdom set foot on their shores.

She remembers Hanji’s smile, which she regrets not reciprocating enough. But Hanji never minded. Even when Mikasa’s scowl intensified as Levi continued to get closer to Hanji.

This woman will be your downfall. The words never quite materialised, but Levi hears it nonetheless- he sees it in the disappointment on Mikasa’s face when she catches him slipping out of the queen’s quarters in the middle of the night.

But she holds her tongue only because she’s never seen her brother quite so-

Alive.

Her brother who has only moved at the whims of the crown. Her brother who had never been selfish. Her brother who had taken the blame for all her mischief, her misdeeds since they had been children.

Mikasa holds her tongue.

—

“You are a pain… Just like your mother…”

Mikasa says to the girl one day. And the girl laughs, the same rambunctious laughter, so much so that Mikasa aches. But Mikasa maintains her frown, chides the girl when she rides off in front of her. She’ll have to learn that a leader follows their own orders.

And Mikasa can’t help but think of Hanji. Of her carelessness, her inquisitiveness, her insatiable appetite for the world. Of the bouquet of gardenias and hyacinths that Hanji had given her when they rode out to the valleys.

Mikasa learns gardenias mean you are lovely, and hyacinths mean please forgive me.

The supply routes have been compromised. The guards have overrun the underground but the girl insists on dropping supplies. “They won’t last the week,” she says, resolute, “we are doing this.” It’s a close brush but the girl makes swift work of the guard before he can swing his sword.

“Focus Mikasa…” the girl teases and Mikasa, past her own shock, shakes her head in annoyance, “you’re a pain just like your father!”

But the supply routes have been recaptured. The guards will try again, but for now the vigilante network can hold them off. The girl- her resolution- the reason people have sworn their loyalties. She demonstrates the brilliance of a thousand burning suns.

You are just like your mother… Mikasa says again later when the girl leans her head on her shoulder. Thank you…

—

Levi grew up in the underground. His father sent someone to fetch him and his mother when he realised Kuchel had borne him a son. He meets his step-sister for the first time at his parents’ wedding. Little Mikasa Ackerman, hiding behind her mother’s dress.

And Mikasa remembers looking at him- the boy from the underground- raven hair like hers, but eyes that have seen much, much more. She remembers the thirteen years between them. She remembers her hand in his when they had announced her parents’ deaths, and later, Kuchel’s death to an unknown disease. She remembers the smug lift of his lips when he had owned up to breaking one of the vases in the palace when it had been her. He was beaten. She sees the extent of the wounds this kingdom can inflict. And she knew it’s her and Levi against the world.

But he falls in love with the Queen, their Queen, of the crown her family has sworn to protect.

Hanji is expecting…

Levi says to her one day. And Mikasa waits in anxious anticipation. She doesn’t want the words to come. Because everything will change.

The child is mine…

The world stops spinning. Mikasa wants to cry. She lets a tear slip when he tells her she has to run away. When the baby is born she has to run away to her mother’s tribe. To fight their wars and serve as their Princess. And they will protect her. They will keep her safe.

But all Mikasa has ever known is her and Levi against the world. Her heart sinks.

And it aches when she finds Hanji alone one day, looking at the stars, and Mikasa can think of nothing but her own anger and Hanji’s impending doom.

But Hanji calls out to her, with a smile that has never wavered in her presence. And Mikasa goes to her, sits with her, and listens as she talks about the stars. But her eyes stray to the slight curve of Hanji’s belly.

“You want to feel her moving?” Hanji asks when she catches her looking.

She nods, and Hanji takes her hand in the warmth of her palm, placing it on the swell. There’s a smile that breaks on Mikasa’s face when she feels the baby move. This child, made with so much love that death will trail in her wake. This child can only be brilliant.

Mikasa looks at Hanji, and she realises she has never admitted how beautiful her Queen is. She understands why Levi would fall for her. There’s a certainty in her steps, comfort in her mannerisms, and a charm that comes easily to her. There’s a slight curve of her lips- this smile- just for her brother’s lover.

Hanji cradles Mikasa’s cheek in her hand and the warmth spreads and Mikasa will regret not apologising to Hanji. Not telling her she’s sorry for being so cold. For acting out. But the moment has passed and there’s jauntiness in the way Hanji smiles back at her-

“I hope you get to meet her one day…”

—

After they take the castle, people are shouting through the streets- the king is dead, the king is dead, the king is dead! And the kingdom thaws from its endless winter. The night begins with music, with a steady flow of wine, with dancing.

The three flags raised above the walls bear witness to the festivities. They represent the alliance of three kingdoms-

The flag of the Zoës, her mother’s people, who have sailed across the sea to fight her war, to fight in memory of her mother,

The flag of the Hizurus, a tribe revived and restored to its former glory by its Princess,

And the Wings of Freedom- the flag of the resistance.

The throne room needs to be cleaned out, but for now, Mikasa leads her inside, fetching her a crown from the vaults. The girl knows it was her mother’s. The crown now sits on her head.

Welcome home, Princess.

—

Your mother loved this place. She called it “Little Sea”.

Mikasa tells her when they are at the lake. The weather is mild enough to sit on the grass and they are talking about everything. When Levi and Hanji had been killed, their bodies were burnt so as to avoid attempts at martyrdom. But the servants had scattered their ashes into the lake.

I want to tell you about your parents- of Hanji Zoë and Levi Ackerman.

Mikasa says. And she does. She tells her how her father, who never had any interest in girls, fell in love with Hanji Zoë. Oh how terrible he had been at wooing her, how clumsy he had been. Oh the suffering of everyone who had to bear witness to her brother’s attempts at romance. But she fell for him regardless. And it feels nice to finally admit that it was a love that was meant to be. That had to be. It’s a good love, she thinks, and Levi deserved a love like that.

“Your mother… She made my brother very happy… I’ve never seen him so happy…”

“I heard he wore a perpetual frown…”

“The ugliest one…” Mikasa giggles, “but she made him smile…”

The girl beams, and Mikasa sees Hanji- her effortless charm and the sense of comfort that follows. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Hanji.

As the sun sets, the girl, the last of Mikasa’s family, reaches her hand out to her. Mikasa takes the girl’s hand, looking back only to set the bouquet down where the water meets the earth. For all the words left unsaid-

Camellias for admiration,

Blue salvias for I think of you, and

Hydrangeas to mean thank you for your forgiveness.

[all parts in Masterlist]

#levihan #Levi x hange #Levi x Hanji #Mikasa Ackerman #Levi Ackerman #Hange Zoë #Drabble #mine #blipcakes

[pleathewrites]

Candles in the Sun

chapter 1: the one who drives all evil away

When Ryomen Sukuna was born, the ground shook.

A weeping mother cradles her baby in her weak arms. The sweat cools off her skin with the gusts of rain-scented wind pushing past an open window. Her baby’s heart beats - she can feel it through the pads of her fingers - and she sighs.

Her eyes do not betray her.

She looks at her child and begs the Gods for mercy to be given - for this world to treat her child as kindly as she vows to because she cannot feel anything but infinite gratitude as her baby looks up at her with bright, red eyes.

Both sets.

Her child has been born with a gift - the blessing of 4 eyes and 4 arms.

*

When Itadori Yuuji is born, his first breath matches the last of his mother’s.

A weeping father holds his daughter’s baby to his chest and begs for the Gods to bring her back.

His prayers are futile, as his daughter’s unblinking eyes remain downward towards her belly, awaiting the arrival of a child she never got the chance to hold.

With the tips of his fingers, using the gentlest pressure, he lowers his daughter’s eyelids and lets her rest.

Her baby cries.

He prays for the strength to give this child the same love and protection he had for his own. He feels the ache in his chest, lungs rattling with every inhale.

He begs his body not to give up on him.

*

It’s an odd feeling, Sukuna’s mouth stretching over his cheek.

He was in the middle of packing up the extra things that had been left behind in his move to Jujutsu High when he had stumbled across the frame that had used to stand upright on his grandfather’s dresser.

“Oh, is that a baby picture? Let me see,” Yuuji feels the words before he hears them.

His knee-jerk reaction is usually to deny the curse, for whatever he’s asking.

“What, no -”

“Let me see or I won’t leave you alone this whole day,” The King of Curses demands, rather childishly.

Yuuji sometimes forgets this guy is supposed to be a thousand years old.

He stares at the picture between his fingers. It’s a capture of one of his earliest memories, a blurry thing that Yuuji only really has random flashes of. He doesn’t remember what the occasion was, but he remembers the exhibit of huge dinosaur fossils and the vibrant green of grass against a rough picnic blanket. He doesn’t remember what they ate for that lunch, but he remembers his grandfather asking an elderly to take a picture of them in front of the museum entrance.

This maybe-five-year-old Yuuji has his mouth open in laughter while his grandfather swings him up to sit on the concrete pillar of a staircase.

His heart mourns.

Sukuna starts to let out whining noises that pull irritatingly at the skin under Yuuji’s eyes. Yuuji grumbles and holds the photo up for the curse’s eye to see.

Sukuna lets out a coo, “You were so cute. Fat,” and just when Yuuji feels the side of his lips tilt up in a smile at the comment, Sukuna continues, “You’re so ugly now.”

Yuuji squawks, “Fuck you!” and slaps his hand over the offending mouth.

The sting against his cheek lingers, though the curse does not.

*

Sukuna is five years old the first time he levitates.

The boy had stomped into his house with muddy shoes, and his mother had asked him to take a bath. He said he didn’t want to. She told him to take one anyways.

He screamed.

And the next thing they both knew, he was 5 feet above the ground, his feet dangling uselessly beneath him, and the tips of his shoulder-length hair brushing the ceiling of their home.

He sees his mother’s eyes widen, and his own breath stutters in the childish fear that maybe he’s doing something bad, and just when he’s about to try and return to the ground, the expression on his mother’s face changes.

She’s laughing.

The first laugh is blurted shock, the second disbelief, and the rest are consistent peals of happy - proud - laughter.

On that day onward, Sukuna’s mother discovered her son’s curse energy bleeds into his temper tantrums.

*

Fushiguro Megumi makes Yuuji’s soul wiggle, Sukuna observes.

The first time Sukuna notices, they’re in an abandoned school and the brat is about to get himself killed by a Special Grade curse that Sukuna could pulverize with a flick of his finger.

He tells Yuuji as so, tells the boy that he could easily help him out, but that he won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in the way.

Sukuna’s no hero, after all.

When Itadori Yuuji tells Fushiguro Megumi to run away, the energy of Yuuji’s soul seeps into Sukuna’s domain and messes with the physics of the place - and for a split second, Sukuna feels breathless.

Sukuna smiles, ‘Could it be?’

After defeating the Special Grade, Sukuna decides to test something out.

He beats Megumi within an inch of his life, and when he has the boy’s full attention, he rips Itadori Yuuji’s heart straight out of his chest.

Megumi's soul cries.

Sukuna lets out a manic laugh, ‘So it’s true.’

His plan will succeed.

However, when Megumi begins to speak, he foolishly speaks directly to Yuuji about why he had saved him and Sukuna feels the same watery jolt of the brat’s soul and he is immediately sucked back into his Innate Domain.

*

Sukuna burrows further into his cloak as he rummages through the village market.

He huffs.

He hates the townspeople. They always gasp at the sight of his arms and chase him away with their brooms.

But his mother grows weaker every harvest, and the walk from the mountain to the village center takes her nearly half a sun cycle, whereas Sukuna can make the trip in a third of that time.

He tries to recall what was written on his mother’s list when he’s pushed roughly from behind, a gust of wind and scrape of cotton breezing through his side. When he regains his balance, he opens his mouth to yell in complaint only to stop when he notices the person who pushed him is another kid, perhaps around his age, sprinting.

He looks behind him to see an older man - horribly familiar, especially with that stick of his - running toward the kid’s direction.

Sukuna sends a small wave of curse energy aimed at the man’s feet and trips him.

When the man falls flat on his face, Sukuna hurries in the direction of where the kid had run.

It only takes him a few seconds to locate the other kid.

One glance around the area with his four eyes confirms their privacy. Sukuna brings two hands to cup near his mouth and yells, “Hey!”

The kid freezes, at both Sukuna’s voice and the fact that they were running into a dead end.

They turn around, and Sukuna swears his chest rattles.

Stone green eyes shine back at him.

Sukuna swallows, “I know a place you can hide, but we have to go now. That old man won’t stay down for too long.”

The kid nods quickly, and Sukuna leads them through several back alleys of the town until they reach a rundown temple on the outside edge of the village. The two climb up jagged rocks that stick out the sides of the temple, and they don’t stop until they reach the highest floor, climbing through the window into the building.

The kid slides down the wall and tips their head back, swallowing the much-needed air back into their lungs.

When their chest stops heaving, they turn their head towards Sukuna and narrow their eyes at him. Their voice cracks when they ask, “Why did you help me?”

“Why were you being chased by the tomato vendor?” Sukuna counters.

Their lips close and tighten in frustration.

A gust of wind pushes through the temple’s window and knocks back the hood of Sukuna’s cloak, revealing the face he forgot he was hiding.

Emerald eyes widen.

Sukuna’s heart jumps to his throat. He knows he should run, but he’s frozen in place, waiting for a reaction. He can’t help it - his mother told him, time and time again, to never care what other people think of him, and, usually, he listens, but something is rooting him down in his place, faint and inaudible whispers behind his ears, telling him to, ‘Wait.’

“So, you are the boy,” are the next words breathed into the air.

Sukuna doesn’t know how to respond. He both knows and doesn’t know what this other kid is talking about - yes, he is the village monster, but the words, ‘the boy,’ have never been uttered like that.

Like sanctity.

“My mother used to speak of you,” the other continues, using their hands and knees to crawl closer, and closer, until they are close enough to block out the evening sun from Sukuna’s view, “But, we thought you were a myth. In the past ten harvests, she’s never seen you, but she always stayed firm. How odd, that only a year after that she - that I…” they leave off, and Sukuna doesn’t even notice the hand inching towards his face until they stop themselves, their shadow-tinted hand hovering in the air.

He startles backward, head thumping painfully on the stone wall.

The kid retracts quickly, “I’m sorry!”

Sukuna rubs his throbbing head, and the motion lifts his cloak, revealing the second arm that rests beneath his primary, “I-It’s ok,” He tells them, watching the way their eyes stare at the two arms on his left side with something that looks like wonder. He continues after another moment of silence, “What - uhm, I mean… What did your mother…?” He doesn’t know how to ask.

When the child looks back up, kind emerald eyes greet him, “A blessed child, birthed eleven harvests ago. Born with a soul four times as bright.”

Sukuna gasps.

(“Why do I look like this, Mama?”

His mother pauses, before setting her threaded needle on the table. She beckons her son with an outstretched arm, and he follows all the way up to her lap. She smiles warmly as Sukuna repositions himself atop her knee to face her. He waits.

“Sukuna, my boy… You are blessed. A child born with a soul four times as bright.”

The ruddy pink of his eyebrows furrow, “... four... times?”

His mother nods and thumbs under his lower left eye, “Four eyes,” the same hand slides down in a quick movement, and when her fingers wriggle into Sukuna's side, he shrieks in laughter, the sight causing his mother to let out a few giggles of her own, “and four arms!”

“M-Mama, s-stop it!”

Her hand stills and she presses a kiss to the crown of her son’s head.

“A soul brighter than four souls put together.”)

The child assumes his surprise to be fear and reaches out to hold the hand of his lower arm.

“Do not worry, I will not hurt you, or decieve you. I… I would like to be your ally.”

Sukuna thinks he would like that, as well.

“What is your name?” He asks. His mother told him once that he could, ‘obtain a glimpse of a person’s soul by the way they wear their name.’

The child beams, a missing tooth mirroring the one he had lost himself earlier that year, “Chiyoko! You can call me Chiyo, though. I think it’s cute.”

Sukuna thinks so, too.

“My name is Sukuna.”

SUKU - NA: The one who drives evil away.

CLICK TO READ REST OF CHAPTER

#jjk #megumi #anime #ao3 #jjk fic #jjk friday #itafushi #itafushi week #satosugo #gojo satoru #sukuna x oc #sukuna x reader #sukuna #itadori yūji #fushiguro megumi #itadori x fushiguro #nobara #fanfic #fanfiction #soulmate au #reincarnation #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff

[stiltonbasket]

It’s 1 am and I can’t sleep. For the renouncement verse, does wei ying ever lay awake thinking of their little baby bun on the way? Maybe in the later months of the pregnancy? I imagine wei ying keeps waking up early as he did while he was acting sect leader, but does Lan zhan wake up even earlier and just *looks* at his growing family? 🥺 does wei ying also cool for the baby lan disclipes like he did in lotus pier? 🥺🥺🥺 it’s late and I’m feeling soft

Long before he was old enough to read or write, Wei Wuxian was painfully aware that the world was never kind to children.

He learned that fact when he was a child himself, picking through rubbish heaps for scraps on the streets of Yiling, and when he saw other street-children die of hunger and thirst around him. He learned it again when he was eighteen, watching the little bodies of his nine and ten-year-old baby shidis being laid out in Lotus Pier’s training courtyard for burning--and then a third time, though it felt like the hundredth, when Jin Zixun had thirty women and children shot to death in the woods of Lanling for nothing but his own pitiful amusement.

(Even twenty years after that day on Qiongqi Dao, Wei Wuxian will never feel an ounce of remorse for the way Jin Zixun died; the moment Jin Ling struck him out of the Jin clan’s records was one of the most satisfying moments of his life, and even Jin Guangshan’s name receiving the same treatment did not please him half so much.)

To this very day, it seems to be an unwritten law that the rich and the mighty have no obligation to care for the vulnerable, or the weak, and it was only due to luck and Lan Zhan’s timely intervention that their A-Yuan did not join the hundreds of babies who were left to die, forgotten, or killed for the crime of being born to clans who were disgraced or disbanded or somehow fell out of favor--and if Wei Wuxian had not been in Yunping last year at exactly the right time to find Xiao-Yu, who can say what might have become of him?

“A-Die,” Xiao-Yu mumbles sleepily, curling up against Wei Wuxian’s side like a hibernating squirrel. “There’s a big mouse in Xiao-Yu’s sock. A-Die, look...”

Anything could have happened to him, Wei Wuxian thinks, swallowing down a mouthful of bile as he cradles his son close to his chest. He could have been treated poorly in that children’s home, or beaten, or run away to find his father and ended up on the streets, or even--

After tormenting himself by imagining what Xiao-Yu might have suffered if Wei Wuxian had not found him, he presses a hand to the front of his robes and prays that wealth and the blessing of a good family will be enough to protect his unborn daughter from suffering as her two older brothers did in their childhood. But even little A-Lan was nearly murdered before her parents learned she existed, thrown into mortal danger to atone for the sin of being part of Wei Wuxian, and both of them would have died in that cellar full of fierce corpses if Lan Zhan had not reached them in time.

“Hurry up and grow strong, A-Lan, so that no one can hurt you again because of me,” he whispers, as the baby directs a plaintive kick at the spot where Xiao-Yu’s tiny feet are sticking into him. “I’m sorry that I brought this bad fate to you. But after  you’re born, your A-Die and I will both be able to protect you, and you’ll never have to worry about anything again.”

He often finds it strange to think about how deeply he adores the baby slumbering in his dantian. Being with a child has come with a host of uncomfortable changes to his body; he has to steady himself when he walks, and take care not to bump into things, and the nausea that made the first three months so miserable has returned now that he’s approaching the end of his confinement.

But he loves his little one so dearly that the idea of her being hurt brings him to tears at least three or four times a day, and even during the night if Wei Wuxian wakes before mao shi and imagines a tiny, fragile infant crying for her A-Niang in the Burial Mounds while an army of thousands charges upon the mountain to destroy her.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan’s hand is resting on his cheek, and Wei Wuxian leans into it with such desperate gratefulness that his tears trickle down onto his husband’s sleeve. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.”

“You are,” Wei Wuxian sighs, as Lan Zhan rolls over to wrap him and Xiao-Yu up in his arms. “Lan Zhan, I...after the baby comes, what are we going to do?”

His husband kisses his forehead. “Do about what, xingan?”

“I thought everything would die down after the wedding, but those cultivators from Zhoushan showed their hand only six months ago,” Wei Wuxian says, biting his lip. “Nie-xiong said he was certain that everyone who knows I don’t have a jindan is either dead or in prison, but he can’t have tracked down everyone who was involved--and Lan Zhan, it won’t matter if anyone comes for me, and nobody would bother going after A-Yuan or Xiao-Yu, but A-Lan--”

“We will keep her safe,” Lan Zhan says fiercely. “I will let no harm come to either of you, and Nie-zongzhu has over fifty men collecting intelligence in Zhoushan. He will not rest until this is finished, and neither will I.”

“But what if something happens to her anyway?”

If an answer to that fear exists, Wei Wuxian has no idea how to find it; but then Lan Zhan squeezes his hand, and reaches out to touch his cheek before tucking him back into his nest of blankets.

Lan Zhan must have comforted him well enough to lull him back to sleep after that, though Wei Wuxian was too exhausted to remember what he said; but he does remember that he dreams of his baby born and grown up enough to walk and run by herself, and wonders how such a darling child could possibly belong to him.

She’s half Lan Zhan, and half of me, Wei Wuxian muses, watching with his heart in his throat as the little girl in his dreams goes through her hours of work and play, and even climbs onto Lan Zhan’s lap and begs him to tell her a story before leaping straight into Wei Wuxian’s open arms. A-Lan, Lan-bao, my good Shuilan--be healthy and happy always, and live with no regrets. A-Die and Papa will be with you wherever you go, and no matter what you do--so you don’t need to be scared, all right? Don’t pay any mind to me.

He has often wondered what his daughter will be like: but when he opens his eyes the next morning, it seems as if he might have known her all along.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wangxian arranged marriage au #renouncement verse #my fic #rip long time no see for this verse huh #IT'S STILL OPEN FOR PROMPTS BTW #finishing tmaaf is 1 priority rn but prompts are open 24/7!

[let-the-dream-begin]

When the World is Free Chapter 8: Oh God, I Don’t Stand a Chance

Chapter 7

Read on AO3

John could not say why he’d woken up. He hadn’t been dreaming of anything that would jar him awake, there was no sound. Rather, there was a lack of sound. Claire’s light snoring filled his ears…but Jamie’s heavy breathing did not join it.

And then he noticed the crying.

John turned over, having ended up with his back to Jamie, who had fallen asleep with John and Claire tucked into his sides. When he could see Jamie in the dim moonlight, his breath caught in his throat. He was stiff as a board, every muscle clenched, eyes squeezed shut, whimpering quietly.

“Jamie…?” He sat up a bit, leaning on his elbow.

This was not unlike the nights he’d woken to the sound of Claire’s weeping, when Jamie was dead, a whole other lifetime ago.

“Jamie,” he said again. “I’m here. It’s alright.”

His mouth opened to exhale with a small sob, and John felt his heart cleave in two.

“Was it another dream?” John whispered, gently running his fingertips over the creases in Jamie’s face. He knew of them, having even heard Jamie wake with a cry from the next room when he still slept on the couch. But Claire had always been the one to bring him down from that terror. John had to fight the urge to wake her, to ask her what to do.

No, Jamie needed to know he could trust John, needed to know that he would carry that burden just the same as Claire would.

“Open your eyes, Jamie,” John beckoned softly.

Jamie shook his head violently, sending a shiver up and down his body.

“You’re in your bedroom, I’m here, Claire is here, Brianna is across the room. There’s nothing to fear.”

He shook his head again, and tears leaked out of his squeezed eyes.

“What are you frightened of, love? Talk to me?”

“I…” Jamie rasped. “I can feel him.”

“Who?”

“He looked me in the eyes, smiling at me while he blew up…he’s all over me.”

Hayes.

“No, Jamie. There’s nothing on you but this blanket. You’re in your bed.” He willed his voice to be calm, swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat when he realized what Jamie had dreamt of.

“I can smell it…burning, rotting flesh…I canna get it off…”

“It’s off. It’s gone,” John assured him. “I promise. If you open your eyes you’ll see.”

Jamie just sobbed again.

“Can you…can you breathe for me, Jamie?” John tried a different tactic, knowing that Claire had used this for both of them at various times when the ghosts of the war got the best of them. “You can keep your eyes closed. Just breathe, love. Please.”

Jamie obeyed, breathing through his mouth. John coaxed him into breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth, realizing that perhaps he was afraid to inhale too deeply through his nose, lest he smell more burning flesh.

“Can you smell Claire’s perfume?” John said. “That sweet vanilla, mixed with that herbal smell that follows her everywhere?”

He watched Jamie’s throat bob, his teeth grinding. He inhaled shallowly through his nose. “Aye…I do.”

“Good, that’s good.” John stroked back Jamie’s sweaty curls. “What about me? Do you smell my cologne?”

Jamie breathed in deeper through his nose. “Aye.”

“Good.” He continued stroking Jamie’s head. “And baby powder. This whole place always smells of baby powder.”

He could swear Jamie’s lips quirked up as if he wanted to smile, but the strain in his muscles wouldn’t let him. “Aye. I can smell it.”

“See? It smells like home, Jamie. You’re home.”

John coaxed a few more deep breaths out of him, and then Jamie’s eyes fluttered open, meeting John’s gaze.

“There you are,” John whispered, cupping his face.

“John…” Jamie blinked rapidly, his chest heaving.

“It’s alright.” John leaned down and kissed him sweetly, chastely, on the lips, then each cheek, his forehead, then his lips again. “I’m here.”

Jamie leaned up and kissed him back, wrapping his arms around him, hands splaying on his back.

“Christ…” Jamie breathed, eyes glistening. “I love you, man.”

John laughed wetly, still not used to hearing that. “I love you too, Jamie. So painfully much.”

The baby stirred, and only then did Claire wake up, more alert than she should have been for three in the morning. Miraculously, they’d all fallen asleep clothed that night, so she just slid out of bed and took Brianna in her arms, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand. When she was settled in the rocking chair, child at her breast, she finally noticed that the men were awake, and had frozen with their hands all over each other. Claire smirked, her eyes half shut.

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” she said wryly, her voice slurring.

John was looking over his shoulder at her, and he turned back to Jamie, laughing quietly through his nose, and delighted to see Jamie shaking with quiet laughter as well. Jamie finished pulling John on top of him, but did not ravage him with kisses as John had anticipated. He merely held him there, as if he were a human blanket draped across his chest, arms wrapped bodily around John’s smaller frame. John buried his face in Jamie’s neck, no kissing or suckling, just resting, breathing, savoring.

This somehow felt more intimate to John than any time their cocks had been inside one another.

They remained like this, holding onto each other for dear life, until the sound of their daughter’s drinking ceased, and Claire’s telltale sigh of relief announced that Brianna was finally back in the cradle. John felt the bed shift and heard Claire thud into it with a groan, lamp flicking off.

“Don’t be too bloody loud,” she grumbled, and then her snoring resumed.

John had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. Only Claire could get out of bed and breastfeed only half awake, acknowledge that her husbands were in the position to become intimate, and then fall right back asleep as if she’d never woken in the first place.

“D’ye suppose she ever truly woke up?” Jamie whispered into John’s ear, his voice dancing with mirth.

“Did she sleepwalk, you mean?” John whispered into his neck.

“Aye, I believe she did.”

John laughed softly and began kissing Jamie’s neck, laughing still between kisses. Jamie dragged his face out of the crook of his neck. “Come here,” he growled, kissing him deeply, swirling their tongues together. “I want to feel alive, John. Wi’ you, right now.”

John rode him, taking him in deeply, biting his own lip and Jamie’s lip to stifle his cries, lest they provoke the sleeping beast inches away from them. Jamie clawed at his back, then fisted his cock, until they were coming together, lips sealed together.

John fell asleep again, sprawled on Jamie’s chest, the scent of their combined sweat and seed swirling in his nose, all too aware of how blessed he was to be somebody that made Jamie Fraser feel alive.

——

On a brisk, foggy night in April, long after dark, Claire pushed Brianna’s pram along the sidewalks of London, trailed closely by her boys. Jamie had not stopped asking questions the whole while, very much not a fan of the fact that John and Claire knew what was going on when he did not.

They’d been planning this for weeks, she and John, ever since that night of the dinner party that Jamie had had to watch John and Claire go off to. Claire’s stomach was tumbling over and over, her heart lurching. Added to that anxiety was the fact that her fingers had not been bare for months and months, years if she just thought of Jamie’s ring alone. She kept going to twist the rings on her hands, only to come up empty, be reminded of why she was nervous, and then feel ill all over again. One of the pockets of her coat felt like it weighed fifty pounds, jangling as it was with two different rings.

It was late enough that not a soul lingered in the streets, save the occasional drunk stumbling out of a bar that wouldn’t remember them in the morning if his life depended on it. That was exactly what they’d wanted, what they’d needed.

She glanced behind her at the boys, dressed in fine coats over their button-downs and ties. She herself was dressed in her finest white dress falling to her mid-calf and trimmed with lace, hugging all her curves in a way she knew to be pleasing from the way Jamie ogled at her before she put her coat on. It wasn’t the wedding dress she’d imagined as a little girl, but neither was this the wedding she’d imagined.

When they arrived at the church, Jamie still didn’t seem to have gotten the hint. It was open, of course, being that God’s doors were always open, but it was empty, and pitch black, save for one electric light in a corner for any lost souls who needed entry.

“Her baptism isna fer several weeks yet,” he interjected as John and Claire began lighting candles. “Her wee nose is frozen, taking her out in the dead of night like this! What is the meaning of this?”

Claire and John exchanged a look as Jamie grumbled something about Sassenachs to his daughter.

“Really, now,” Jamie demanded. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You don’t realize yet?” Claire said, willing her voice to be steady. She unbuttoned her coat and slid it off, bearing the white dress to him once again. She reached into her coat pocket and scooped out the rings. John positioned Brianna’s pram in front of the altar and stepped onto it, and Claire joined him.

“I’m wearing white…” Claire whispered. “My hands are bare…”

“Yer...what…?”

“Come up here, Jamie,” John beckoned, and Jamie obeyed, his eyes narrowing. He dropped something into the palm of Jamie’s hand, and Jamie recoiled with shock.

“Why’re ye giving me yer ring, Sassenach?” His voice was laced with panic.

“I’m not giving it to you,” Claire said. “You’re giving it to me. Again.”

“What…?”

“It’s the Church wedding you always wanted, Jamie,” John said gently.

His face fell slack with shock, and Claire swallowed against a sandpaper throat.

“That’s....my ring, from you, for us to renew our vows,” she said, her voice small and timid. “And that’s a new gold band. For you to give to John.”

Jamie stared, unblinking and unmoving at the rings in his palm. Claire glanced nervously at John.

“These are from me, to you both.” Claire produced the rings she had bought. “They’re both set with amber.”

Jamie grinned crookedly, staring at them. “One fer each of yer eyes.”

Claire beamed. “Exactly. I...I remember you said when we were apart that you’d...you’d stare into your whisky and…”

“Pretend I was drowning in yer eyes,” Jamie finished for her. “I remember.”

He still did not look up, so Claire closed her hand around the amber rings and looked to John again.

“And these,” John took over, reaching into his pocket again. “Are for each of you. Claire’s old wedding band from the courthouse to renew our vows, and a new band for you.”

John placed the third ring in Jamie’s palm, and handed the other to Claire. “I got them engraved. I wanted Claire’s to mean something more now that our marriage means something more than it did that day. And of course yours had to be, too.”

Jamie squinted into the ring, his nose scrunching. “When I’m not with you…?” he read, confused.

“It’s...the second half. Claire’s is the first.”

He turned to Claire expectantly, who peered into her ring. “I don’t live at all…” Her breath caught in her throat.

“Hemingway,” Jamie said as it dawned on him. “Farewell to Arms.”

“Yes,” John said chuckling nervously. “‘Why, darling, I don’t live at all when I’m not with you.’”

“Oh, John…” Claire breathed.

“Either of you,” he clarified, though he hadn’t needed to.

“It’s beautiful,” Claire said thickly, handing it back to him. “So thoughtful. As you always are.”

Jamie wet his lips as he returned the ring to John, blinking several times. “So ye mean to…”

“To handfast,” John finished. “Yes.”

Jamie blinked, and then said, rather stupidly, “Ye need a witness.”

Claire couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. “You stupid, bloody Scot…” She cupped his face, forcing him to look her in the eye, look up from his palm for the first time in several minutes. “You and I didn’t have one the first time. You said God himself was enough of a witness. Isn’t that still true?”

Jamie nodded minutely. “Aye,” he said hoarsely. “Suppose you’re right.”

“And besides,” Claire added. “Brianna is right there.”

Jamie snorted, then sniffled. “D’ye ken yer daughter at all, Sassenach? She’ll sleep like a rock right through it.”

They all three shared a laugh at this, before sobering up rather quickly.

“Do you...want to do this, Jamie?” John said quietly. “It was Claire’s idea, and I...well, it would make me...beyond joyful to be married to you, darling. In the eyes of who matters.” Claire shifted one of her hands, and then she was cupping one of Jamie’s cheeks, and John the other. “Each other, our daughter, and God.”

Silent tears trickled down Jamie’s cheeks, and John and Claire each wiped them away.

“Will you marry us, Jamie?” Claire whispered, her forehead pressed to his.

“Aye,” he answered hoarsely. “Aye, I will.”

Out of sheer relief, Claire laughed again, and then kissed him fervently. John kissed his cheek as she did, and Jamie managed a wet smile at them both as they pulled apart. Jamie looked into his palm again, at the thistle ring that had lived on Claire’s hand for years, and at the plain gold band.

“I canna give ye this,” he said to John. “I had this one made fer Claire, chose every painstaking detail...this isna so much as engraved. I canna wed ye wi’ this.”

“Don’t worry about that,” John said quickly. “It’s my fault for that. We wanted to surprise you. You can replace it with whatever you want later.”

“Wait.” Something changed in Jamie’s face; the candlelight caught his eye differently, giving a little skip in its never-ending, flickering dance. He went for his right middle finger and twisted off the ring that lay there, and Claire’s breath caught in her throat.

“Jamie…” John breathed. “I couldn’t…”

“Yes, ye can.”

It was Brian’s ring, set with the ruby in a golden, ornate band. Jamie had proudly declared that one day, their first-born son would wear it, and Claire had mourned its loss along with Jamie, supposedly blown out of the sky with him, knowing that she could not carry out that promise with the baby they’d thought would be Brian.

“But your…your father…” John stammered. “He meant for it to be passed down…”

“Aye, and it will be,” Jamie interrupted, taking John’s hand in his. “To our son. A gift he can carry wi’ him when both his fathers are gone.”

Were the moment not so beautiful, Claire might have snarked that it was bold of them to assume she’d be carrying any more children. Besides, deep down, she knew she wanted to anyway.

Then, very suddenly, she could see it. She could see their big house, filled to the brim with their brood, brown and red hair alike, constant cacophonies of Da, Daddy, and Mummy echoing through the halls. She could see a little boy with John’s nose and Jamie’s eyes (though she knew this, scientifically, made no sense, her heart couldn’t be bothered correcting itself) sitting in John’s lap, fiddling with the ruby that would someday be his, while Jamie told stories of the grandfather that had once worn it.

Our legacy.

John sniffled, bringing Claire back from the future. His forehead was resting against Jamie’s, Jamie cupping the back of his head. Claire kissed both of their cheeks in turn, and then she lowered herself onto her knees, and they followed.

“D’ye remember?” Jamie asked, his eyes and face resembling those of a sweet puppy. “From the last time?”

Claire took his hand and squeezed. “I remember every single second.”

She reached with her other hand for John’s, and watched as they, too, laced their hands together. “We’ll both go first,” Claire said to John. “Repetition to help you remember, and all that.”

“Right,” John chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Claire inhaled and then exhaled with a tremor, and John and Jamie both squeezed one of her hands, both of them in tune with her nerves, her need to be soothed, at the same time.

“I, Claire Elizabeth, do take thee, John William, to be my lawful wedded husband. And I take thee, James Alexander, to be my lawful wedded husband.” She met each of their eyes in turn, and the roiling in her stomach gradually faded into gentle waves on soft sand. “With my goods, I thee both endow, with my body, I thee both worship. In sickness and in health, in richness and in poverty, as long as we all shall live.” Her voice caught at the last second, and she blinked away the salty blurriness in her eyes.

She sniffled and unlaced their hands so she could place each ring on their respective hands. “I plight thee my troth,” she beamed at Jamie, sliding the gold band on his right hand, “And I plight thee my troth.” She slid the other ring on John’s finger, and she very nearly burst into tears at the joy on his face. Never had he shone so bright.

Claire kissed each of their rings as she had seen Jamie do to her thistle ring more times than she could count, then re-laced their hands.

She swallowed thickly and looked up at Jamie. “Your turn.”

He cleared his throat. “I, James Alexander, do take thee, Claire Elizabeth, to be my lawful wedded wife. And I do take thee, John William…” Jamie blinked rapidly, pausing to collect himself, and Claire’s tears finally spilled over, albeit silently. “I take thee, John William, to be my lawful wedded…husband.”

Claire had thought perhaps it would sound strange to hear that coming from a man’s voice. But it didn’t. She supposed Jamie had anticipated it feeling strange as well, but given the way he seemed to glow, just the same way John was, Claire supposed she and Jamie were in agreement.

It was beautiful.

“With my goods, I thee both endow, with my body, I thee both worship,” he went on, “in sickness and in health, in richness and in poverty, as long as we all shall live.”

He mirrored Claire, producing the thistle ring once again, and his father’s ring. “I plight thee,” he slipped the ring back in its rightful place on Claire’s hand, “and thee,” Brian’s ring found its new home on John’s left hand, and the world seemed like it was falling into place, “my troth.”

He fervently and reverently kissed each ring as Claire had done, and then Claire and Jamie both looked expectantly to John.

He was weeping.

“Oh, love…” Claire croaked, taking his hand again and squeezing. “It’s alright…”

John nodded. “It’s just…I never…never thought…”

“Shh…” Claire brushed away his tears with her free hand, and Jamie nuzzled into the crook of John’s neck.

“Never thought I’d…have this…”

He was shuddering, nearly inconsolable.

“Oh, darling…” Claire kissed each new tear as it fell, and Jamie rubbed his back, whispering Gaelic.

“We’re right here, John,” Jamie said, in English. “Always.”

John took a deep breath before beginning in a hoarse, strained voice: “I, John William, do take thee, Claire Elizabeth, to be my lawful wedded wife. And I take thee, James Alexander, to be my lawful wedded husband.”

Claire could not even imagine the relief that John felt to say that after a lifetime of thinking, knowing he’d never have a true husband.

“With my goods, I thee both endow, with my body, I thee both worship. In sickness and in health, in richness and in poverty, as long as we all shall live.” Each engraved ring found their rightful place as he said, “I plight thee my troth,” to his husband and his wife.

Jamie beamed tearfully, glancing back and forth between them. “By the power vested in us by God the Almighty, with He as our witness, and…she as well,” he flicked his eyes over to Brianna, fast asleep in the pram, her sacred duty as witness clearly being taken very seriously, “I now pronounce us man, and man, and wife.”

Claire launched herself forward to kiss Jamie, lingering for as briefly as she could possibly allow herself before switching over to John. She pulled back to let her husbands share their first kiss as man and man, and then they were a tangled mess of limbs and mouths and tears and tongues, until Claire did not know who she was kissing and where.

They went on as long as they could in good conscious, being that they were, after all, in a church. They somehow managed to peel themselves away from each other and off the floor. They each blew out a few candles, and then they were off, Claire pushing the pram, her boys trailing behind.

“I told ye she’d sleep through the whole damn thing.”

John and Claire laughed out loud, and Jamie joined, the three of them caving into one another as they stumbled down the sidewalk, delirious with glee.

——

It was well past midnight, so the streets were empty, and even if they weren’t, Jamie did not think he would have given a single damn. He’d have held John’s hand anyway, swinging it between them, he’d have occasionally kissed his cheek anyway, he’d have kept his other hand over Claire’s on the pram anyway, kissed her cheek anyway. He was on top of the world tonight, renewed and reborn, baptized in that church the same way Brianna had been, wiped clean of sin by the strength of someone’s love.

There was nothing earthly to explain what he had found with Claire and John. Nothing explainable could possibly be applied to it. So Jamie reasoned it must have come from a higher power, and he had to believe that higher power to be the Almighty. So any man could spit on them, could curse them, could hate them. But Jamie knew in the deepest depths of his soul that they had no right.

What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.

Claire giggled in his ear, and John laughed heartily in response, leaning over Jamie to peck her briefly. Jamie pecked them each on the cheek, not even knowing what they were laughing about.

Never before had God created something so pure, so free of sin, as this love. And who was Jamie, or John, or Claire, or anybody at all to dishonor something so lovingly and thoughtfully given?

Claire spent far longer than was necessary getting Brianna warm, bundling her in four blankets, none of which had been used in the pram. There were moments where Jamie adored watching his wife fuss over their daughter, could sit for hours and watch her rock the swaddled bundle, coo and babble incessantly.

Now was not one of those times.

The very second Brianna was down in the cradle, both Jamie and John were upon her. Before she could so much as gasp, Jamie captured her lips with his, and John began suckling at her neck. She melted into them, and together they got her undressed and pushed her into the bed. In tandem, they kissed every delicious inch of her, and Jamie’s cock grew harder by the second, listening to her sweet noises, and John’s to accompany. It was one thing to savor her himself, but to hear another savoring her just the same was exquisite.

They alternated between suckling her breasts and kissing one another, and they both began teasing her entrance at once. Jamie grinned wickedly at John, who returned the smirk, but Claire stopped them, putting her hands on their heads. She shook her head, breathless.

“I want you inside me,” she panted. “Both of you.”

Jamie could feel his cock strain painfully. This…they had never tried.

Claire, in all her glorious, vulgar curiosity, had demanded, a few weeks ago, to be shown what the men feel when they have each other inside them.

“I’m ready,” Claire said, her amber eyes entirely liquid, dark, and hooded.

John and Jamie had experimented with her pleasure there with tongues and fingers, but never before had either of them taken her there.

Well, neither of them were capable of denying her anything.

They crawled up the length of her writhing body, shining with sweat like a pearl on the shore, and gave each other another lingering, smoldering kiss that sent Jamie’s head swimming. He reached into the nightstand for the grease, and allowed Claire to lather his cock for her, all while she lazily sucked on John, cupping and squeezing his balls. When Claire was satisfied with Jamie, he reciprocated, greasing her slit and entrance thoroughly and sliding a few experimental fingers in. When he was confident that she’d not be uncomfortable, he put the grease away, John slid his cock out of her mouth, and she laid on her side.

This was their most intimate position, lying together like spoons in a drawer, like they did when they slept, the two ends making eye contact, the one in the middle going back and forth, all three of them clinging to one another. It was fitting for tonight, Jamie thought. Their wedding night.

He caressed the lovely roundness of her arse, then ran his hand down the back of her thigh, gently pushing up. She wrapped her leg around John’s waist and bit her lip, looking back at Jamie. He maintained eye contact with her as he inched inside, and she gasped, immediately tensing.

“It’s alright,” John soothed. “You have to let your body relax, love.”

She moaned, a delicious, intoxicating sound, and it was all Jamie could do to not sheath himself to the hilt. But he would not hurt her, would rather cut the appendage off than hurt her. So he went slow, becoming more and more intoxicated with every inch, every cry she loosed, every heave of her breast. Jamie bit down on her shoulder, finally breaking eye contact as he fully sheathed himself, holding onto her breast as if for dear life. He was nearly certain his handprint would be there tomorrow.

“How does it feel?” Jamie growled, seeing stars.

“It’s…oh, God…” Claire whimpered, wriggling against him.

“Aye, mo ghraidh, feel it…”

She whined, grinding back against him, and he groaned, willing himself to remain still, to let her adjust her own way. He watched as John kissed her deeply, touching where Jamie was not, gentle and soft with his hands in all the ways Jamie was rough and uncontrollable. She continued to writhe against him, setting her own pace right up until Jamie thought he’d go mad if he didn’t start moving, however minutely. Then, she kissed him, then turned to look John in the eye.

“Go on, love,” she crooned, hiking her leg higher up on his waist, drawing him impossibly closer. 

Jamie exhaled tremulously, licking his lips as John lined himself up, feeling his cock twitch at the sound of his groan, at the ragged gasp that tore from Claire. In that moment, all of John’s gentleness was gone, and he gripped her arse with the same fierceness that Jamie braced himself on her breast. Christ, Jamie could feel John on the other side of that thin wall of flesh. He would not, could not last long this way. And judging by the sounds she was making, neither would Claire. And by God, he would take John with them.

And then, they were all three moving together. It was impossible to decipher who started. All Jamie knew was that they were one. It was tender, so beautifully tender. They all touched each other anywhere and everywhere, John and Jamie kissed over Claire, she kissed John, craned back to kiss Jamie. As they grew more frantic, Jamie planted his hand on John’s arse, sealing them all impossibly closer. Claire threaded one arm behind her, tangling her fingers in Jamie’s hair, and the other around John’s neck, fisting his hair.

“Oh, I love you…” Claire whimpered, kissing John sloppily, and yet tightening her grip on Jamie’s hair. “Oh, please…please…”

Jamie ground circles inside of her, hardly sliding out at all, and John hammered into her with growing ferocity.

“With all my heart, I love you,” John cried hoarsely, kissing one, then the other.

Neither of them specified which you they were talking to, but they did not need to. Jamie was unable to speak, and then Claire was climaxing, shrieking, every wall within her clenching so tightly that it immediately drove Jamie right over the edge, and by the sound of it, John as well. Jamie could not see anything but stars, did not know whose mouth he claimed, whose hands gripped him where. They were three parts of the same whole, falling into oblivion together.

The world came back to Jamie in pieces, starting with a tickle under his nose that he immediately knew to be Claire’s curlywig hair. The next piece was a heavy, feral panting, a sound he’d come to love nearly as much as the man who made it. Then his eyes fluttered open, and then he was aware of his softening cock still inside Claire, and John’s as well, still nestled inside.

Claire’s eyes were closed as well, her chest was heaving, her lips parted. Jamie ran his hand up her arm and traced two fingers around the rim of her beautiful lips, and she moaned quietly, closing her mouth around them, suckling sweetly. John brushed a frazzled mess of curls out of her face and kissed her forehead, then kissed the knuckles of Jamie’s hand that was half dipped in Claire’s mouth.

“You were made for me,” Jamie broke the silence in a hoarse whisper, as if hesitant to have spoken at all. “Both of ye. And I am nothing wi’out either of ye.”

Why, darling, I don’t live at all when I’m not with you.

He noted that John had tears lingering on his cheeks, likely having cried through this climax. Jamie wasn’t all too sure he hadn’t as well. He slid his fingers out of Claire’s mouth and brushed away John’s tears with his dry thumb. It would have appeared that Claire had already fallen asleep, had she not tugged insistently on John’s head, bringing him to lay on her breast. She sighed contently, never once opening her eyes, and stroked John’s arse with the heel of the foot still draped over his waist.

“My husband,” John breathed in disbelief, cupping Jamie’s face.

“Aye, mo chridhe,” Jamie answered, kissing his fingers and bringing the hand to rest on his chest. “And you are mine.”

Jamie draped his enormous, too-large arm over both Claire and John, able to splay his hand on John’s back even with Claire between them. And then, Jamie fell into a dead sleep, his cock still inside his wife, and his husband’s hand on his heart.

#outlander #outlander au #outlander fanfiction #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #John Grey #Lord John Grey #john x claire #john x jamie #john x jamie x claire #jjc #throuple #ot3

[gamergirllblog]

Not About Angels

Pairing: Kirishima x Fem Reader

Warnings: Angst

Word Count:1484

You look down at Kirishima’s body, still and unmoving. His hero costume ripped and frayed. That villain really did a number on him.

“I love you, Eijiro.” You place a kiss on his forehead, your lips lingering above the skin. Unusual coldness froze your lips. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. His skin was supposed to be warm and soft.

“(y/n), you know you can’t do this. You have no more time left.” Recovery Girl says next to you, watching over you and Kirishima.

This had all started when you needed to train with Recovery Girl. Kirishima made sure to stay close by during his training. Little did you all know that a villain with an air quirk was going to attack. Everything happened so fast, all in a blink of an eye, a beat of your heart. It was all so sudden.

By the time you understood what was going on the villain was caught and arrested, nothing more than a beginner. But yet… somehow that villain managed to get to Kirishima, stealing his air right out from his lungs. Why would they attack a student? What were they trying to prove?

“I have to do this.” You close your eyes, leaning your forehead against his.

“I think I love you, (y/n).” His voice trembled, his breath shaking against your lips. You pulled away from him, his arms loosening around you just slightly. With wide eyes you just stared at him.

“You think you love me?” You whispered. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it could stop any second.

“No!” He shouted, his eyes having gone wide. You leaned back some more, shocked and surprised. “I don’t have to think, I know. I love you.”

He looked into your eyes, his red ones searching for answers in yours. Slowly you started to smile, his words sinking in. A small, tilted smile danced onto his lips.

“You love me.” You sang out, a grin taking over.

“Yeah. I do.” His eyes travelled to your lips.

“I love you, Eijiro.” You said, your heart picking up speed.

His eyes found yours again shortly before both of your lips connected. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. There was no resisting the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling just as much, wanting more of him.

His lips were warm and soft. The kiss was passionate, yet gentle. Salty, yet sweet. Completely and utterly perfect.

“I need to bring him back.” You feel the tears start to build up, ready to break out.

“Not until we find a way to make your quirk last longer. You know if you bring him back you’ll use up the rest of your energy. You will di-”

“I don’t care!” You declare. “I don’t care as long as he’s back. He needs to come back.”

You didn’t know that the rest of your class had gathered around, all of them falling silent when they see you and Kirishima. No one had anything to say. One person stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“(y/n), he’s dead. You can’t use your quirk to save him.” Bakugou’s usual rough and loud voice was instead comforting and caring.

“No. I have to bring him back. I can do it. I have to.” You bawl, sitting up and turning towards Bakugou, wrapping your arms around him. You cling onto him, needing to feel something, anything. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer.

“You can’t bring him back. We can’t lose you, got that?” He asks softly into your ear. You quiver and sob against him.

“I need him!”

“Get a room.” Bakugou had growled as he sat down in the common room, book in hand. You cuddled closer to Kirishima’s side, planting a kiss on his cheek.

You two had come here to study together, but that didn’t last long. In just a few seconds he had pulled you closer, kissing your shoulder, then your neck. After a few minutes of trying to get him to focus you gave up and that’s how your make-out session started.

“What? We weren’t doing anything.” Kirishima had laughed, kissing your cheek quickly.

Crimson red eyes glared at the two of you, a disgusted look on his face. You felt embarrassed. Never had you guys kissed and acted like an actual couple in front of everyone. You weren’t used to it.

“You guys are eating each other’s faces. It’s disgusting.” Bakugou looked back down to his book, opening it up to the middle.

“Aw, look at them being so cute! Bakugou, leave them alone.” Mina cheered, sitting down next to you, nudging your arm. Your face turned as red as Kirishima’s hair. 

“I think he’s just jealous. (y/n) stole his man.” Sero joined in, sitting on one of the chairs. Denki was right behind him, leaning over the couch next to Kirishima.

“I just can’t wait to be a cool uncle, imagine little (y/n)’s and Kirishima’s running around!” Denki laughed. Mina was quick to reach over and slap him on the back of the head.

“Really, Denki?” She let out a heavy sigh.

“We were going to work together. We already talked about moving in together after graduating. I need him.” You sob more into Bakugou’s chest, your fists full of his hero costume.

Mina starts crying, Sero and Denki both trying to comfort her. The full realization hits everyone like a large wave, drowning them all at once. Kirishima was dead. If you brought him back you would surely die. There is no winning scenario.

“Heroes! Please someone help me. My little girl, she’s hurt really bad. Please! She needs help!” A woman shouts, rushing over to all of you guys.

“All of you, please stay back. I’ll be back in a minute.” Recovery Girl walks past all of you towards the woman.

Bakugou tightens his grip on you, hugging you close to him. As much as he gave you hell for it, he loved seeing you and Kirishima together. You made each other happy. He knew Kirishima needed that. He was never happier than when he was with you. Never did you guys fight, unless it was over stupid things like who got to have Denki charge their phone first, which Kirishima always let you win.

Seeing his best friend laying here, unmoving, is not something he was mentally prepared for. He knew the risks of the job, but he never could have imagined this. It isn’t possible. It isn’t meant to be like this. Kirishima never was supposed to look like this. It looks like he’s sleeping, going to wake up any second. His body is so relaxed, not a worry in his head.

“No!” A sharp, piercing scream fills the air. The woman.

You open your eyes and see the woman cradling a child in her arms, Recovery Girl shaking her head. It didn’t work. Her child is dead, you can feel it from here.

Pulling away from Bakugou, you stand up and shuffle over to the woman, stumbling over your feet. Recovery Girl looks up at you, a surprised look on her face.

“I can help her. Can you just bring her over here, please?” You tell the woman, whose red puffy eyes land on you. She looks like she’s been through hell and back.

“You can help her? But she’s de-”

“I know. I can bring her back to life.” You tell her.

“(y/n), you can’t. You’l-”

You turn and look at Recovery Girl. One look at you and she stops talking, mid sentence. That look said everything your voice couldn’t. There was no point in living. You couldn’t use your quirk anymore. You didn’t have the love of your life. There was no point.

Recovery Girl sighs and tells the woman to bring her daughter over. You walk back over to Kirishima, kneeling down next to him. More tears rise up, spilling over and pouring down your cheeks.

This quirk was a curse. Yes, you helped people, but at the cost of your own life. You knew that this day would come. At first it scared you, made you terrified, but now you fully accept it. This was an acceptable way to die.

“Can I please have you go find Mr. Aizawa and let him know the situation?” Recovery Girl asks your classmates, even tapping Bakugou on the shoulder. He stands and looks at you. There’s a hint of knowing in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, turning and walking away with the rest of the class.

You look up at the woman. “You can set her down over here.”

Without a word the woman lays the little girl down in front of you. With a deep breath you look at Kirishima one last time. I love you, Eijiro. I kn

#kirishima #kirishima x reader #bakugou #angst #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfiction

[funkyhanji]

Daddy's Perfect Cock-Slut [English | BNHA]

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia (@Horikoshi Kohei) Character(s): Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Shouto Pairing(s): EnjiSho Rating: E Word count: 3528 CWs: Shota, Underage, Extremely Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, Grooming, Mind Manipulation, Childhood Trauma, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Begging, Rough Sex, Large Cock, Cock Worship, Cock Cages, Cock-Slut Shouto, Creampie, Implied/Referenced Father/Daughter Incest, Dissociation, Dirty Talk, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Summary: - That green-haired runt [...] knew nothing about Shouto. Or about Enji. Or about their relationship and how it functioned. -

Enji's annoyed. That green-haired runt reminded him too much of All Might, with his self-righteous attitude and acting like it's his duty to go sticking his nose into someone else's business, unwanted and spewing corny bullshit. Did that kid even know who he was talking to in that way?

His Shouto doesn't need help from a kid who can't even properly control his quirk. He knew nothing about Shouto. Or about Enji. Or about their relationship and how it functioned.

[*]

It took two days for Enji to notice Shouto's catatonic state and lifeless stare. He'd been busy dealing with the paperwork necessary to hospitalize his wife after her psychotic breakdown and her attack on their youngest child. Also the press — keeping the nosy fuckers away from his family problems was of utmost importance. Good thing he showered his PR staff and lawyers in money.

It was a comment from Fuyumi which had clued Enji in on the boy's ghost-like presence around the house.

Shouto, excused from school for a couple of weeks after the incident, would be seen wandering the halls in a daze; he'd often gravitate to the kitchen or his mother's bedroom, and stay there for indefinite amounts of time. He only moved when someone nudged him out of the rooms.

His son, he also came to notice quickly, was very responsive to commands in that state. As if his brain was more than happy to be given directions or orders to follow.

Any sort of command.

«Stop right there, Shouto,» Enji ordered one day, seeing the boy walking down the corridor in front of his open studio door. Shouto did as told, making Enji hum, curiosity piqued. «Come in Shouto, and close the door.»

His son obeyed, standing just past the threshold, his face devoid of any real expression and a haunted look in his eyes. It was disconcerting, Enji had to admit, but the cooperativeness was pleasing after all the reluctance to follow directives Shouto had shown since they'd begun his training.

«Come to me, boy,» he said, waving him over. «And speak, I'm tired of you playing mute.»

Shouto slowly crossed the distance, halting beside the chair Enji was sitting in. «Father.» His voice was scratchy from disuse and a bit dull, but it was still an improvement over the contempt it held before.

Something could be bettered though.

«Call me 'Daddy', boy,» he ordered.

«Yes, Daddy.»

The word sent a shiver down Enji's spine. Something wicked and dark—a desire to claim what was his on the most base level — awakening inside him for the first time in months, maybe years. Rei wasn't here to stop him, this time; she wasn't here to distract him with her own body, or to send Fuyumi his way in her stead.

Shouto was all his for the taking, now.

«Your Mommy was taken away because of you, Shouto. And since you're the reason she's not here anymore, it'll be your job to do everything Mommy did for Daddy. Do you understand, Shouto?»

«Yes, Daddy. I'll do everything Mommy did for Daddy, because it's my fault she was taken away.»

The smirk slashing through his face was nothing but sinister.

«Good boy.»

They were in Rei's bedroom, alone and with the door locked. It wasn't necessary, frankly: his and his wife's rooms were on a different side of the house from his kids', and none of them were about to come looking for him, not after dinner anyway.

Enji had come out of the bathhouse to find Shouto once again in his mother's room, gaze lost like a kicked puppy.

Defenseless. Adrift.

And Enji was there, because it was easy to take advantage of a traumatized child when you use the excuse of providing him with an anchor, a grounding touch.

He spread out Rei's futon on the tatami mats — a half-empty bottle of lube rolled out of it as well —, sat down with his legs loosely crossed in front of him and reached out a hand toward Shouto. His other hand undoing the knot of the towel at his hips.

«Here, Shouto, come sit in my lap,» Enji ordered.

«Yes, Daddy.» Shouto plopped down in the circle his legs made, back straight and blinking slow, breath even.

He didn't protest when Enji took his hand in a gentle hold, brushing a large thumb over the white knuckles; he didn't protest when Enji cradled the bandaged side of his face in his other hand. He didn't try to back away, as Enji coaxed his jaws open and delved two thick fingers inside, the rough pads gliding over a soft tongue and gums. Back and forth, deeper at each passage and full of intent.

A flush began to creep onto Shouto's cheeks; his breath humid as it puffed over the back of Enji's hand, a spark flickering to light in his uncovered eye.

He brought his son's hand toward his groin, pleased to see him follow the movement, gaze focusing on the swelling cock nestled in dark crimson curls. A shiver coursed through Shouto's thin frame as his fingers made contact, a sigh escaping parted pale-pink lips.

«Daddy...» Shouto whispered, muffled by Enji's digits still in his mouth.

«Go on Shouto,» Enji said, letting his hand fall from the boy's face, setting it at his slim waist. «You remember what to do, right?»

Shouto nodded, too lost in the moment to respond verbally, but it was fine.

Enji picked up the lube, squirting some in the boy's palm. Cold fingers wrapped around his length — barely long enough to circle the girth of it even when limp — and stroked, the touch tentative, trembling but growing surer at each pass. The push and pull of the foreskin as it glided over the head, the stiffening of the cock under his fingertips seemed to entice Shouto. His pupil dilated the harder Enji got, the blush on his face darkening at each of Enji's pleased hums.

«Good, Shouto,» Enji praised. He groaned when his son's other hand joined in the stroking, the dual sensation of hot and cold enclosing his cock feeling nice on his burning skin. «Put more strength into it, boy.»

«Yes… Daddy,» Shouto whispered, sounding winded as his whole body shifted with his movements. Sweat started beading at his hairline from the extersion and the heat radiating off of Enji.

«Remember, Shouto, this is your duty now. Taking care of my needs, of my cock, is your responsibility.»

«… Because it's my... fault Mommy's not… here anymore...»

«That's right.» Enji smirked, dripping corruption and lust unbecoming of a hero. «Get your mouth down there, c'mon. Like I told you.»

Once the bandages came off his face and Shouto was cleared by the doctor to go back to school, the vacancy in his stare finally began to recede day by day. He no longer wandered around the house like a ghost and he talked more often, as stilted and curt as his sentences were.

A positive thing, according to the majority of people Enji spoke to — a phrase which never failed to make him raise an eyebrow. He could understand such naivety from Fuyumi, but from adults who should know better than to sweep PTSD and trauma under the rug? Bullshit. They were just trying to appease him, Endeavor, the #2 Hero.

They were lucky that worked perfectly for Enji.

He could do without the new-found sparks of defiance in Shouto's eyes whenever they crossed paths or trained in the dojo, sure, but in was worth it when all the fight bled out of his tiny frame at the first glimpse of Enji's cock. He knew playing his hand while the boy was in a malleable state would be beneficial in drilling some key concepts in his brain.

«That was weak, Shouto! Fuyumi could have punched harder than that!» Enji reprimanded, eyes narrowed in Shouto's direction at his poor attitude.

He received a glare from the other side of the dojo, Shouto then kicking the dummy in the dick with an angry yell. Enji almost rolled his eyes at the display, but a sudden groan caught his attention.

«Ah— nnh…!»

Shouto was squirming where he stood, face pinched in discomfort and the heel of one hand carefully rubbing at his groin. Ah, Enji thought, it's the cage isn't it. Of course it was — it'd been only a week since Enji had put it on Shouto; he wasn't used to it yet.

«Stop touching it, Shouto,» Enji said. «It won't help—»

«Shut up! Take it off of me!»

Enji stood up, growling low and stalking toward his son. He gripped a fistful of bi-colored hair and shoved Shouto's face into his crotch none too gently, grinding him against his clothed, soft cock. Any protest died quickly. A breathy moan warming Enji's bulge, which twitched in interest as Shouto nudged his nose further into the crease between his thigh and pelvis.

«I told you not to touch the cage, Shouto,» Enji said, looking down at the boy.

«Mmkay,» Shouto muttered into the fabric of his sweatpants; his tiny arms embracing Enji's waist. «Daddy… wanna…»

«What do you want?»

«Daddy's… Da— haa!-» Enji rubbed a knee over Shouto's trapped little dick- «cock! Nnnh— Daddy's cock! P-Please...»

Enji chuckled. «And what d'you wanna do with it, mh, Shouto?»

Shouto looked up at him, flushed face and eyes swimming with desire to please. Enji could imagine the boy's mind quickly being overtaken by thoughts of his cock; touching it, stroking it, feeling its weight and warmth on his tongue — the way he'd been primed to in the weeks after the incident.

«S-service you— ah! — Daddy… please!»

«Since you're being so polite-» Enji patted his head, then undid the pants' drawstring and pulled them down enough for his cock to bounce free- «go ahead.»

Shouto's eyes light up, a needy whine falling from pink lips. «Thank you Daddy!»

He delved right in, mouth parting to suckle on the head, tongue sneaking under the foreskin and swirling around it like an ice-cream cone. Popping off the tip, Shouto moved down the hard length, kissing and licking every pulsing vein all the way to the base; he coated Enji's cock in saliva to ease the stroking of his small hands while he nuzzled up to the sac under it.

«Suck on those, boy,» Enji grunted, a large hand on the nape of Shouto's head. «That's where you came from.»

Shouto's tongue lapped at his heavy balls with careful brushes, lips puckering over the sensitive skin, sucking gently. Over and over, he kissed Enji's sac with something akin to reverence in both his touches and his eyes. His breath was humid and hitching as he worshiped Enji like the all-consuming being he was.

A low rumble reverberated in Enji's chest, his palm caressing red-and-white hair in silent appreciation. «Yeah… like that, Shouto. You like Daddy's cock, don't you?»

Shouto moaned, long and trembling with need. «Ah! I… I-I— yes! Like-» his lips attached to Enji's cock-head once again, drinking up the pre-cum oozing from it and mewling- «mngh— l-love it Daddy!» He rutted against Enji's leg, no doubt trying to find relief for his tiny dick trapped in that cage.

«Good boy. Now back to sucking.»

Enji unceremoniously pushed Shouto's parted mouth down on his twitching cock, fucking into it fast but controlled, thrusts shallow as his son let himself be used. Flushed cheeks hollowing and puffing out in time with his movements, and small hands cupping his balls, it didn't take long for Enji to feel himself starting to cum.

«Here it comes, Shouto,» he groaned, fingers dipping into the boy's nape to keep him still. «My seed— shit! Ngh!— don't spill any!»

Shouto's muffled assent sent jolts of pleasure up his cock, pushing him over the edge until he was dumping a load of scorching cum down the awaiting throat. Shouto drank and drank, lips tightening around his length to coax out every drop.

The sight alone — of Shouto's still-developing Adam's Apple bob — arousing him enough he could go for a second round immediately. «Like mother, like son: she loved to guzzle it down too.»

«Quit your squirming, dammit!» Enji growled, a rough palm on his son's hip.

«Nooo…! Back— put it back Daddy! Too empty...» Shouto cried.

Enji ignored the whining and the wriggling hips, too busy trying to reach for the lube one-handed, to appreciate the desperation Shouto was showing. At last managing to pop the bottle open, Enji poured the lube over the boy's slightly puffy hole — a huff of laughter escaping him at the squeak it earned him — and sank a finger inside.

Shouto's body shivered, no longer fighting. «Daddy...»

«Yeah,» Enji said. His digit moving back and forth, taking stock of how prepped his son's ass was after pulling out the plug which had been stretching him. «This is better, mh? A minute without something filling you up is unbearable, isn't it.»

The only answer he got was a whorish moan and Shouto pushing back into his hand.

Enji had introduced butt plugs around three months into his molding of Shouto into his personal, perfect cock-slut. He'd been dreaming about fucking his son well before Rei had snapped and gotten herself locked away in a hospital, and after teaching Shouto how to pleasure him with his mouth, Enji had decided it was time he started training that cute, round ass to take his cock. It'd been a couple of painstakingly long years. Years filled of better and better blowjobs, thigh-fucking — and occasional Fuyumi-fucking, because sometimes he missed the familiar feeling of a cold and wet pussy soaking up his boiling-hot cum —, and the slow-increasing girth of butt plugs up Shouto's hole.

The wait was finally over.

Enji was already rock-hard at the prospect of sinking balls-deep in Shouto.

His son seemed eager as well; spine curving sharply upward, hands gripping the futon under his shaking body in a vice. «Hhhnggh…!! O-oh! Da-Daddy! More— aah!— moreee!»

Enji smirked, a second finger pushing alongside the first to scissor and loosen Shouto; a third was quick to follow, and a fourth, the blushing rim stretched deliciously around his fingers, shiny with lube and fluttering. Enji shifted his hand back a little, calloused pads prodding at his son's prostate, licking his lips at Shouto's shocked yell. He kept up the touch until Shouto's walls were quaking and he was orgasming with his ass, his little caged dick limp but twitching uselessly over the sheet.

«Look at that, Shouto, you mastered the art of cumming like a woman,» Enji praised, fingers popping out of the boy with a squelch.

Shouto was out of it, drowning in post-coital bliss. «… Like a wo… man… did good?... Daddy…?»

«Yes, you did good. So good, you deserve my cock.»

Shouto didn't have time to say anything, Enji lubing himself up quickly and thrusting inside the small body in the next minute. Both moaned, when he bottomed out, then he pulled the boy up to sit on his thighs. Hands at a slim waist — leaving bruises on the milky-white skin —, Enji began ramming Shouto onto his cock at a brutal pace, the slapping of skin on skin loud and obscene, a nice background to the gritty grunts and the breathless mewls they made.

«How's Daddy's cock, mh, Shouto?»

«Mmngh! Aaah! Oh— l-l-loooove it…! Daddy!! Oh! Hhhgaah— yes! Cock!! Co— AH!»

Shouto was a mess of snot and tears and drool, with barely enough functioning brain cells to form words while he was mercilessly bounced on Enji's cock. His guts were speared continuously, his stomach visibly bulging every time Enji thrusted into him; his prostate was brushed against over and over to the point of pain, but Shouto kept moaning and sobbing in pleasure like Enji had molded him to—a slut for anything Daddy's cock gave him.

And Enji made sure to tell him.

«What a... whore! Happy to be a— ngh— rag-doll in my grasp...  just to get my— shit!— cock. Ready to crawl— haa!— on your knees and choke on it! You're a bitch in heat, Shouto— my bitch. My cock-slut!»

«Yours, yes! Yesyes! Slut— AH! DADDY! AH! AH!»

Shouto orgasmed again, body like jello in Enji's hands as he shook and shuddered and pissed all over the futon. He kept up his onslaught anyway, fucking up into Shouto through his walls' clenching down on him until he was cumming violently inside, still thrusting while he rode it out, uncaring of the seed spilling down his cock and adding to the nasty mess.

«Thank… you… Daddy...»

«Mmh, good boy, Shouto.»

[*]

He sees his son walk towards him, on his way to compete in his first match. «Shouto,» he calls, «I'm expecting to see you use your fire today.» Shouto scowls, seeming determined to ignore him and that won't do for Enji. He steps in front of his son, blocking the passage with his large frame; this time it's him who ignores Shouto's gritted «Get out of my way». He bends at the waist until their faces are as close as can be with Enji's quirk active. «I put up with this defiance at home,» he says. «but here and now? It's going to ruin your performance and I won't have that.» «Fuck o—» Shouto starts, only for the words to die out as soon as he sees Enji unzip the fly of his hero suit and pull out his limp cock. He smirks. The change in demeanor is instantaneous: Shouto's pupils swell, black overtaking gray and blue irises; his jaws grow slack and his lips part; a rosy tint blossoms on his cheeks. Tense shoulders sag. In the next second, Shouto's on his knees in front of him. «Daddy...» he whines. «Aah, that's better,» Enji says. He reaches out, weaves his large hand in bi-colored hair. A low moan leaves his son's throat. He can practically see the saliva gathering on the boy's tongue in anticipation, can see him squirm on the floor as the seconds pass by. Shouto moves closer, nosing at the crimson pubes at the base of Enji's cock but not touching the half-hard shaft. He wasn't given permission to yet. «Need your Daddy's cock to calm down, mh?» Enji teases. «Like a baby with his pacifier-» with his free hand, he strokes himself, quickly growing fully hard at the sight of Shouto panting and sniffing at his crotch like a dog- «wanna be a good boy for Daddy?» Shouto nods wordlessly, slowly humping his boot and Enji can vaguely feel the chastity cage rub on him through Shouto's clothes. «Yes! Yes, please Daddy...! Please, your cock— oooh I want it! Daddy, please... pleasepleaseDa— mgahghn!» Enji grabs a fistful of white-n-red hair and pulls on it, shoving his cock past slack jaws without hesitation. «Suck Shouto,» he orders. Shouto moans around him. His hands grope Enji's thighs, blunt nails digging into the muscle as an anchor while he starts bobbing his head over the massive length. His tongue swirls around the shaft in just the right way to make Enji groan; Shouto's throat constricts as he's swallowed past his son's gag reflex, the vibrations from the mewls travel all the way up Enji's spine. His son's mouth is perfect. «Yeah, that's more— nngh— like it! Fuck, Shouto— you love my... cock mh? That's a good whore—» Wet and tight around him — it almost reminds him of Rei's and Fuyumi's pussies. «Cool yourself down a bit boy,» he grunts. When his son does as told, Enji moans at the feeling and fucks himself deeper, harder past Shouto's lips—they're stretched and puffy and red, with drool oozing down his chin. Shouto chokes on his cock yet keeps working it like the greedy slut he is. He ignores the tears running down his flushed cheeks and the snot mixing with his spit and Enji's pre-cum. His face looks dazed and Enji knows Shouto's brain is mush right now: the only words blaring in there are "COCK" and "DADDY" and "DADDY'S CUM". Exactly the way Enji wants him. It's what Enji's taught him ever since Rei had disappeared from the house, eight years ago-and his youngest cock-sleeve has grown up to be exceptionally great at giving head. The most talented at it since his mother. «Take Daddy's spunk, you slutty boy!» Enji says through gritted teeth as he feels himself getting close. He rips Shouto's mouth off him, gripping his cock and stroking himself quick and harsh until his balls draw up and he's throbbing in his own fist. «Open up and say— fuck!— thank you!» Shouto whines, swollen lips parted and tongue lolling out, waiting to be fed. It's enough to push Enji off the edge. With one last stroke, he's cumming, the thick ropes of seed landing on his son's eager tongue as well as on the bridge of his nose and his left cheek. He milks his orgasm to the last drop, staring down at Shouto with a dark glint in his eyes as the boy slurps up all the cum sizzling on his face. «Thank you Daddy...» Behind him, Present Mic's voice calls for Shouto's name.

#todocest #enjishouto #todoroki enji | endeavor #todoroki shouto #bnha #rarepair #funkys fics #guess who randomly decided to change theme of this blog lol #and to post the fics I've written since The PurgeTM #maybe #I honestly forgot how annoying it is to format here from AO3

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Chapter 2 Inukag angst

The surgery lasted for five nerve wracking hours, all the while the distress in the group building. They were kept semi-up-to-date by a nurse that the surgeons were struggling to control the bleeding in Kagome’s brain. When it was finally over, the primary surgeon brought the family into a separate room where he showed them scans to help in explaining the situation. It was the first time they learned the air bags had not deployed, and even though Kagome was wearing her seat belt, her head is believed to have struck the steering wheel, and the driver’s side window as she was jostled.

“We went in and repaired as many of the damaged blood vessels as we could, but as you can see here in this CT scan, there was some anoxia, erm, loss of oxygen to the cells, and the damage had reached the hippocampus. If you picture being shaken with a lot of force, the brain was essentially whiplashed. The good news is, the internal injuries are not as severe as it could have been and are localized to only one side, but the bad news is where the injured areas are.”

“Why is that?” Inuyasha questioned.

“The hippocampus is an important part of the brain for regulating the limbic system... when Ms. Higurashi wakes up, chances are high that she’ll develop what’s called retrograde amnesia. If her body heals well enough, it will only be temporary, which I believe will be the case. However, there is also the small chance her memory loss could become permanent.”

“Wait, so Kagome won’t remember anything?!” Panic-laced with Inuyasha's tone.

“Not exactly, and again, the memory system is very complex. We don’t know all the answers. But generally, people will remember long term memories, such as their childhood. She just may not remember the last few years of her life.”

“And if it’s temporary? When would her memories come back?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

“Generally, if her healing goes well, most recover in about 6-9 months with therapy.”

“Oh... no...” Inuyasha crumpled and fell to his knees, hands flying up to cradle his head in the realization— Kagome may not remember him, and along with her last words of hatred and tears as the only thing he had to hold on to... “No, no, no, t-this can’t be happening.” His heart started beating wildly in his chest and a sharp imagined pain dug into his temple as tears poured down his cheeks. “Kagome...” he whimpered. Inuyasha would do anything in to change what had happened. She didn’t deserve any of this!

Mrs. Higurashi too, kneeled beside the inconsolable man and hugged him. “We just have to hold out hope, Inuyasha, this is just temporary. I’m sure it’ll all work out, Kagome’s strong, so have faith in her.”

“I’m very sorry I don’t have better news,” the doctor apologized and gestured to the nurse who’d just arrived. “They’re moving her to intensive care now. The nurse will take you to the room.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Mrs. higurashi then turned her attention to Inuyasha. “Can you stand up dear? We should follow the nurse.”

He nodded quietly and staggered to his feet despite all the strength having left his body. Inuyasha always had an appreciation for Mrs. Higurashi, but it was in this moment he understood just how strong she truly was. Kagome’s mother survived losing her husband to an accident when the kids were little and now her own daughter was unconscious in a hospital. Yet here she was holding it together and comforting the man who’d played a role in it. Inuyasha allowed her to guide him by the hand like the scared child he’d become. She was for all purposes like a second mother to him, and he was grateful to have her in his life.

But the second they crossed the threshold of the sterile room, what little strength Inuyasha didn’t have left, dissolved at the sight of Kagome surrounded by the machines keeping her alive. He stared silently as the nurse explained further. A medically induced coma... breathing and feeding tube, catheter, blood transfusions... left distal wrist fracture, broken rib, punctured lung and chest contusions, cracked left eye socket... his mind zoned away from the woman’s static words, instead affixed to the visual’s confronting the group. The love of his life as if asleep, but with all those wires, and tubes, beeping machines, and face bandaged showing only a small portion of her right side was a real life horror movie scene. His eyes tracked the peaks and valleys of the heart monitor or piston-motion of the breathing apparatus beside the bed as of it tracked not Kagome’s vitals but his own life and the one, he had with her. Yes, there’s always the hope she’ll heal and bounce right back. Her mom was right, Kagome was strong, and Inuyasha loved that about her, but... humans are still such fragile creatures.

Inuyasha walked over to the side of the bed and gazed down through glassy eyes. “I already bought a ring...” he mumbled through the tears, “was just waiting for the perfect time to pop the question. I should’ve just... listened to her...” Inuyasha collapsed beside the bed with his head hung low and ears so flattened they were barely visible through his white hair. “I can’t even imagine not having her at my side.”

Miroku stepped forward and placed a hand on his friends shoulder. “Why don’t you let us take you home for now? There’s nothing you can do, and I’m sure Kagome would say you should get some rest.”

“I’ll stay tonight,” Mrs Higurashi added. “You should listen to your friend and get some rest.”

Inuyasha was just too exhausted to argue. He hugged Mrs. Higurashi and told her he’d be back the next day. Then he handed Miroku his car keys, while Sango would follow in their car. Frankly, he didn’t think he would be getting any sleep, but they were right. It wouldn’t do Kagome any good if he didn’t take care of himself too. The car ride was silent for the first half of the journey, but eventually Miroku started asking him more about what really triggered the fight. Inuyasha had already explained the reason earlier, so it was annoying to be grilled all over it again.

“But do you understand now?” Miroku pushed his friend. “Do you truly, and I mean truly understand why she was angry? Even I’ve seen your ex being rude to Kagome and you didn’t say anything about it.”

“Yeah,” Inuyasha growled back. “I get it. I was being a dick this whole time. But I can’t go back and change it now, so what’s the point of torturing me about it?!”

“Because you can still fix this moving forward. Look, I’m just trying to help you here, so cut the attitude. None of us are perfect—.”

“I’ll say, you womanizer,” Inuyasha rumbled under his breath.

“Exactly, but I changed once I met Sango, did I not, because that’s what you do when you love them. So, do you know what you need to do?”

“Yeah...” the hanyo sighed and slumped in the seat. “I gotta cut Kikyo off, just tell her we can’t be friends anymore.”

Miroku quirked an eyebrow based on the lackluster tone in Inuyasha’s voice. “Do you really mean it, cause it sure as hell don’t sound like it.”

“Look, man I’m fucking tired! I’ve got a lot on my mind! But I fucking mean it, okay?! If I have to choose between Kagome and Kikyo, I pick Kagome!”

Miroku parked the car and turned to his friend. “I’m glad to hear that. Now just follow through and don’t let Kikyo pull you back in.”

“You make her sound like a sorcerer or something.”

“The way she’s had you wrapped around her finger, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

The three friends bid each other good night leaving Inuyasha alone again in the empty house, and as he expected, he didn’t really sleep at all that night at home. He couldn’t even bear to sleep in the empty bed because it was a constant reminder of Kagome’s absence. How was he supposed to endure months of this, and that’s if the doctors predictions are correct? So, as he curled up on the couch, just staring out into the dark room, Inuyasha did the only thing he could do. Think. Without Kagome to elaborate, it fell onto his shoulders to fully come to grips with what triggered this event. Inuyasha meant what he’d said to Miroku about his choice, but it was a small lie about understanding her anger. He could grasp her frustration, but not the degree to which she’d snapped. Was it really that bad, and if so, how did he not realize it sooner? Needless to say, his haunted dreams that night left him stricken and tired come morning.

The house just felt so much colder without Kagome there, as if all the warmth and vitality left with her on that stormy, dreary night. Even after the first night, Inuyasha couldn’t bear to sleep in their bed all alone and stuck with the couch instead. Nothing made him feel better, despite the efforts of his friends and family who supported him as much as they could. Each day that passed by became a hollow routine. Go to work during the day, spend his evening at Kagome’s side, and home again to an empty house. He would sit there holding her hand, praying for just the smallest change that never came all the while nothing but his thoughts and the beeping machines to remind him he was alive. Because the longer this went on for, each time he’d look at her, it brought the opposite feeling of life. It was all in his head, but that’s what he felt like, dead inside, with the source of his soul lying in the bed in front of him.

Inuyasha never believed in the gods, but he prayed with all his heart they’ll hear his pleas. He squeezed Kagome’s lifeless hand. “She deserves to live, please, I’ll do anything,” his voice cracked, “anything to bring her back to us...”

#inukag #inukag au #inuyasha #inukag fan fiction #inukag fan fic #Kagome higurashi #amnesia prompt #angst #angst with happy ending

[izzielizzie]

Footnotes in the Story of Your Life

Nancy Drew never wanted to move from everything she knew in New York to an unwelcoming town in Maine, and she secretly refuses to enjoy her upcoming final year of high school, but that might not even happen when she and four Horseshoe Bay natives - Bess Marvin the socialite, Ace the stoic son of a single mother, George Fan the town foster child/screw up, and Ned Nickerson HBPD’s favorite ex-con - are accused of attempted murder. Nancy’s startled - when she said she wanted something interesting to happen she didn’t mean this - but soon she starts to notice that not everything is as it seems here (AU).

Title from “Tolerate It” by Taylor Swift

Nancy’s mother finds her sitting on her bed on the first day of summer with a framed photograph in her hands. Kate Drew softens at the sight of her daughter, her usually perfect posture long forgotten as she wilts into the bed.

“Nance,” she says quietly, and Nancy instantly looks up, her face crumpling. Kate crosses the bare room to sit next to her only daughter, wrapping a secure arm around her shoulder. “Moving must be hard, huh?” For the past month, the family of three had been packing up their New York home in River Heights, loading things into trucks as their friends came by with endless casseroles and ceramic dishes they didn’t know what to do with. Nancy, as social as her mother before her, had drawn into herself more and more as she made her goodbyes. 

“Liven up Nance,” Carson, Kate’s husband and Nancy’s father had said not too long ago as they ate the tuna casserole Helen Coring - Nancy’s best friend - had brought earlier that day as they put the contents of Nancy’s room into a U Haul truck. “We’re moving to River Heights Drive. Not that much of a change, right?”

Nancy had spent the rest of the night glaring at her father, resenting his audacity, and Kate had taken over with the reassurances. 

“Yeah. I just hate the idea that I’m missing senior year.”

“Well, you’re not missing it per say. You’re still going to school here.”

Nancy looks at the picture of her, Helen, and another friend named Burt at the junior prom, their arms around each other. Nancy sighs. She considers launching into a tirade about how New York and Maine are very different places and no she is missing school, the important parts at least, but she knows that this move is hard on her mother too, so she refrains. “I guess so,” she says, reluctantly putting the picture on the stand she had placed next to her bed. 

Kate kisses the top of Nancy’s head. “Good. Now why don’t you explore and I’ll see what casserole I can heat up.”

“Ugh Mom,” Nancy says, already grinning as she pulls her blue raincoat from one of the boxes on the floor in front of her.

 Nancy’s wanderings lead her to a small seafood restaurant with a great view of the Atlantic. Nancy’s not used to being this close to large bodies of water, and it’s making her a little nauseous. Her father, a native of Boston, assures her that she’ll get over the salt air smell, but Nancy’s not so sure. 

She looks up at the claw shaped sign, creaking eerily on its pole. The Bayside Claw Nancy reads. What a fitting name. And a fitting sign. Nancy’s about to turn and keep walking, since she’s not a big seafood person, but she sees a handful of well dressed men enter the restaurant. Nancy’s spent enough time in New York City to know when a well dressed person is just fashion conscious, or when they’re rich and up to something. These men are definitely the latter. Nancy pauses for a few moments to make sure that the men have had the time to settle, since she locked eyes with a young man with sandy blond hair and the beginnings of a goatee, and she doesn’t want him to think she’s following him.

Nancy is an unnecessarily paranoid person. 

She pushes through the doors of the restaurant and is nearly mowed over by a person the moment she steps into the dining area. “Whoah, I’m sorry,” she says, stepping back in time to see a woman with long black hair and an oversized cardigan stagger backwards, clearly discombobulated by well… everything. 

“Ugh, Victoria,” A girl about Nancy’s age in a green uniform grumbles. She catches sight of Nancy. “Sorry about that ma’am,” the waitress says, reaching down to haul the woman (presumably Victoria) off the ground. The waitress pushes Victoria out of the door that’s still held open by Nancy. “Go be drunk somewhere else!” The waitress - whose name tag reads George - turns to Nancy. “Can I help you?” 

Nancy freezes, not quite sure why to say she’s here now that she’s been spotted by this rather vocal waitress when she’s saved by another waitress, this time in yellow. 

“George, Mr. Hudson wants us to give his wife food,” the waitress says in a posh British accent. She’s holding a wobbly plate of fish and salad in one hand. 

George turns from Nancy to the new waitress, annoyance crossing her face. “Well what do you want me to do? Roll it onto a cart for her? Go bring it outside!”

“Mr. Hudson left his wife outside?” Nancy asks, without thinking. 

“Yeah, that fellow over there,” the waitress in yellow points to the sandy haired man Nancy had tailed into here. 

“And that fellow is both incredibly rich and able to give us a boost and my foster dad so maybe you should shut up and give Tiffany her food,” George snaps. Both Bess and Nancy flush. 

“Sorry,” Bess mumbles, stepping away and around Nancy to slip through the front door. Nancy’s a little jostled when Bess passes her, and she spins a little, turning towards the kitchen. She catches sight of a young man in a colorful Hawaiian shirt ringing the bell to signify an order. They lock eyes - ice blue on sky - and Nancy feels a wave of déjà vu pass over her, but she shakes it off. She turns back to George, who’s still looking at her, waiting for Nancy to say something. 

Finally, Nancy makes up her mind. If she’s going to be stuck in this tiny town she might as well do something to occupy her time. “Are you hiring?”

George looks her over. “Are you new here?”

Oh. So it’s that kind of tiny town. “Yes, my family just moved here.”

George nods. “Right. Well, we could always use a new waitress. We had one leave for college and Bess isn’t the brightest so…” George trails off, cocking her head. “Do you hear that?”

Both Nancy and George tilt their heads towards the front door of the restaurant, where they can hear muffled shouting. Both girls look at each other for a moment before Nancy spins and pushes the door open. George is hot on her heels, and after a few moments, a third pair of feet joins them. Nancy turns to see shaggy blond hair under a black cap and knows that it’s the boy from behind the counter.

Nancy stops suddenly when she sees Bess standing over a body, shock on her face. “Omph,” Nancy says as both George and the other guy come barreling into her. She stumbles, and George catches her around the waist. Nancy opens her mouth to ask the very obvious question hanging in the air- 

“Bess? What happened?” a decidedly male voice asks, taking the words straight from Nancy’s mouth. She looks up to see a tall boy with cocoa skin exiting a blue truck parked a foot behind Bess, the body, and the sleek car looming over the person Nancy can only assume is Mrs. Hudson. 

A strangled cry escapes George, and she rushes forward, dropping to her knees next to the woman. “Help her!” George says, looking up at the four of them as she lifts Mrs. Hudson’s head to rest on her knees. She cradles it in her hands like an injured bird. 

“What happened?” the Hawaiian shirt boy repeats. Bess is sobbing now. 

“I turned to go back to the restaurant and all of a sudden she cried out and fell! I don’t know!” 

Nancy, still not quite sure what in the world is happening, crouches next to George and Mrs. Hudson. She lifts one of Mrs. Hudson’s hands, feeling her wrist for a pulse. 

“She’s not dead,” she says as sirens come wailing towards them.

Fifteen minutes later, Nancy, Bess, George, and the two boys are sitting in the hospital waiting room with Mr. Hudson, George leaning against Mr. Hudson’s shoulder.

“The Hudsons have been her foster parents for the longest out of any of her homes,” Bess says, leaning over to whisper in Nancy’s ear. Nancy smiles at her. “I remember what it’s like being new. I only moved in with my aunt here in Horseshoe Bay last month. I used to live in London. I’m Bess by the way.”

“Nancy,” Nancy says.

“Welcome. Where did you live before?”

“New York.”

“City?”

“State.”

“Oh that’s nice. I love the city, did you go often?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” Nancy says as the waiting room doors swing open. She’s startled to see a man in a uniform striding towards their little group. He’s probably in his thirty or forties, and he’s got a no nonsense look on his face. 

“Are you the people found at the scene of the crime?” he asks in lieu of greeting. 

“Woah, woah, crime?” Mr. Hudson asks, standing up, startling George, who had been dozing on his shoulder. 

The officer turns to Mr. Hudson solemnly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “There was poison found in your wife’s system, Mr. Hudson, which means that someone had attempted to kill her.”

Everyone turns to Bess, except Mr. Hudson and the officers. 

Mr. Hudson stares at the officer for a moment before sinking into his seat, a look of genuine fear on his face. “Who would want to kill Tif?”

“Not me I swear!” Bess cries, latching on to Nancy’s arm. Nancy gently pries her fingers off her arm.

The officer shakes his head, ignoring the distraught waitress. “I’m not sure sir, but it’s our job to figure it out. Why is why I need to speak to these five.”

They all look at Mr. Hudson: Nancy, George, Bess, and the two boys whose names Nancy still doesn’t know. But Mr. Hudson’s face is ashen, like he’s going into shock. The officer motions at the young people. “Come along.”

The five of them look at each other uncertainly before standing and following the officer into the hall. Nancy catches sight of his badge: Chief E. O. McGinnis. 

Now, Nancy, being the daughter of a lawyer, should know her rights, and the right to remain silent is the biggest one, especially since she’s a minor, but she’s too confused and terrified to think straight. 

She’s being investigated for attempted murder. Attempted murder. God her mother’s going to kill her. 

The unlikely five line up against the wall. Chief McGinnis paces in front of them. “Alright. I’m looking at an ex-con,” he pauses in front of the guy from the truck. “The town screw up,” (this time he’s in front of George). “A city girl,” he’s in front of Bess now, who looks rather guilty in Nancy’s opinion. He moves to the fancy shirt guy standing next to Nancy. “An HBPD legacy and Nancy Drew.”

Except, that’s not what he says.

He pauses in front of Nancy, and tilts his head at her. “Who are you again?”

Nancy stares at him as the weird feeling of déjà vu hits her again. No. That’s not right. He knows who she is. 

But she doesn’t know who he is. 

Nancy feels her hands start to shake. Everything here is wrong. She should be sitting at the police station. She should know what’s happening. But she doesn’t because she’s being accused of attempted murder. 

But it shouldn’t be attempted. Nancy slides down the wall, her hands pulling at her skin where she can feel the ghost of a locket. 

My mother’s gonna kill me she thinks. But no, her mom’s dead. And Ryan isn’t George’s foster dad. He’s her dad.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t ri-

“Okay just give her space.” 

When Nancy comes to, she’s looking up into the face of the boy who had been working at the Bayside Claw. Nancy’s laying on the ground, her head against the cold tile. The boy gently slips an arm under her shoulders, helping her to sit up.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

Nancy doesn’t know the answer to that. He can tell, so he tries a different question. “What’s your name?”

“Nancy Drew,” she croaks. He smiles.

“Hi Nancy Drew. My name is Ace Hardy.”

“Hi,” Nancy mumbles back.

“And that’s Nick,” Ace says, pointing to the boy from the truck who’s hovering on the outskirts of the circle of people around her. “I hear you’ve met the girls.”

Nancy nods and Ace gently slips his other arm under her knees, lifting her up in his arms like she weighs nothing. He walks her towards the waiting room, talking as he goes. “That, Nancy, was a panic attack. Have those often?”

Nancy leans her pounding head against his muscular shoulder. “No.”

“Well, first time for everything. Got anyone we can call?”

“My dad,” she mumbles. Ace nods to Bess, who rushes forward with her phone out. Nancy recites her father’s number, and Bess puts it to her ear.

“Hello? Hi, yes, this is Bess Marvin. I’m calling about your daughter. She’s in the hospital, she had a panic attack.” Bess is quiet for a moment. “Nancy Drew, yes.” After a moment, Bess rattles off directions and hangs up. 

Ace puts Nancy down on a chair next to Mr. Hudson. Nancy looks at him sideways. She’s about to say something to him when suddenly - as if her brain has been reset or something - she forgets what she was going to say.

“Want some water Nancy?” Ace asks. Nancy smiles at the unfamiliar boy. 

“Yes, please,” she says. He stands and heads to the water cooler, Bess taking his spot. “What did the officer mean by Ace is a legacy?”

“Oh, that,” Bess says sadly. “Ace’s father was a Captain on the police force. He was in a chase once when Ace was a child. His car got hit, and he didn’t make it.”

“That’s so sad,” Nancy says. 

“I know,” Bess agrees. “His mother is all he has. She’s a librarian, but she doesn’t make a lot of money. They just get by with her salary and the pension from the state. That’s why Ace turned down MIT. To work at The Claw.”

“That must be so hard,” Nancy says. She can’t imagine giving up her dream of going to Columbia. 

“It is,” Bess agrees as the doors to the waiting room are pushed open. Nancy sees her father and mother being trailed by an annoyed McGinnis.

“You can’t just take a suspect home! She has to be fingerprinted! She has to give her statement!”

Carson turns on McGinnis. “Excuse me, but my daughter is a minor and she’s had a panic attack.”

“We’re taking her,” Kate adds. She spots Nancy and rushes to her, crouching to put her hands on either side of her daughter’s face. “Nancy, baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Okay, we’re taking you home, don’t worry, Mom’s here.”

It’s a simple statement, and normally Nancy would complain that it makes her sound like a child, but it relaxes her nonetheless. She slumps into her mom, letting the exhaustion and confusion sink over her. 

Kate runs her fingers through her red hair as Carson argues with McGinnis, who finally relents. 

“Fine, fine, you all can go if Drew is going. But I expect you back at the station at eight am sharp.”

Nancy is pulled to her feet by her mother, and before she moves, she puts a hand on Mr. Hudson’s shoulder. “Your wife will get better sir,” she says. Mr. Hudson puts his hand over hers. 

“Thanks.”

Nancy waves goodbye to everyone else before following her parents. As she falls asleep in the back seat of her dad’s car, all she can think is that something about this entire night is off. 

#cw nancy drew fanfiction #nancy drew #ace #bess marvin #george fan #nick nickerson #au #queued