#and even then they have been. repeatedly brushing off the tasks We Agreed I Would Do

[miodiodavinci]

there’s a more correct way of saying it though

[number-onekidqueen]

𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 - 𝙺𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚊

Isadora Quagmire x Klaus Baudelaire

Fluff

Warnings: none, let me know if you think there are though.

I inhaled a gust of stale air as I surveyed my surroundings and began walking, my footsteps bouncing off walls.

I was back in the V.F.D tunnels, where everything had started. For my parents, my brother, everyone. It felt so, well, intruding to be somewhere so silent.

Even as a V.F.D member, using the tunnels so frequently, every time I entered them, I was still surprised by the smell and the sheer silence of the atmosphere. It was like something I could never adjust to.

Perhaps it was because I hated the tunnels.

My literary mind thrives on motivation, and down in the tunnels I can't get any ideas or jabs of imagination to begin a poem.

All there is is darkness, and it is highly frustrating. Everything seemed so straightforward and ordinary, like nothing could be added to make it more interesting or nothing remarkable could happen in these dusty walls.

But my thoughts proved to be incredibly wrong.

To distract myself from my growing lack of comfort from the dim, flickering lights and dark, ominous stains on walls, I reminded myself of my task. 

I had to sneak into Prufrock Prep and steal the files of the detailed history of V.F.D, for V.F.D itself to gain a better understanding.

Well when I say V.F.D, I specify Quigley, Duncan and I as we are the last known and active field agents. The rest are uncertain, missing or dead. 

I spotted the sign marked Prufrock Prep and began ascending the rust-stained ladder, brainstorming how I could hide and smuggle the files out of Nero's office, or whoever is the Vice-Principal at present. 

As the trapdoor opened with a quiet creak, I rolled back the rug, and after a cautionary scan of the room, I crawled out onto the hard, scratchy carpet. I got to my feet and began walking to the filing cabinet. Rummaging through files, I found the folder I was searching for.

"Bingo." I muttered to myself.

"Of all people, I didn't think I would see you here, Isadora."

I nearly dropped the file, then stood, frozen on the spot, my heart pounding. 

It wasn't the nasal voice of Nero, the voice I expected. It was much different. 

It was a voice that pronounced every syllable correctly, a much softer voice, with a much more familiar tone to it.

The voice of Klaus Baudelaire.

"Klaus?" I said hopefully, turning on my heel.

And there he was, with his knitted sweater, collared shirt, ruffled brown hair, crooked glasses and heartfelt smile.

Just as he always looked. My heart sparkled a bit.

I beamed at him with the entirety of my world of euphoria upon seeing him.

"Klaus!" I yelled, dropping the file and charging for him, tackling him in a tight embrace.

"Issy! Oh, it's been a millennia!" He exclaimed returning the embrace, just as fiercely.

"I agree." I replied.

Finally we parted, and our foreheads creased together. 

"Where have you been?!" We cried at each other in unison.

We both reddened. 

"I was escaping the Great Unknown, then sorting out a few secret missions for V.F.D." I recounted.

"We were getting off the island where the possible creator of V.F.D, Ishmael, dwelled. Then we were completing missions for V.F.D, too. Though, why wouldn't we have crossed paths earlier? Odd." Klaus mused. 

I pondered the thought, frowning.

"That is rather strange." I replied.

Klaus brushed the thought off.

"Are you all safe though? How are Quigley and Duncan?" Klaus asked.

I rolled my eyes at the thought.

"Oh, well, Duncan was partnered with a certain auburn haired girl, we know as Miss Carmelita Spats for a mission. If she even deserves the title miss," I began.

Klaus scoffed.

"How's he coping with that?"

"Brilliantly actually. Last report I heard, Duncan is intent on changing her title to Mrs. Carmelita Quagmire." I said in light disgust.

Klaus spluttered repeatedly.

"What? What?! Carmelita? Carmelita?! The girl who sings her name at the end of every irritating and non-rhyming song?! Are you sure?! Really?! My goodness, what has this world come too?" Klaus exclaimed indignantly.

"My response was the same. Only Quigley remained unaffected because he believes everyone deserves a second chance. Utter nonsense. He's never met her." I replied grimly.

Klaus blinked the disbelief and horror out of his face, before changing the subject.

"How's-"

"Shh!" I whispered wheeling around at the sound of footsteps. They were headed towards us. I picked up the file and ran to the rug in the centre of the room.

Tossing the corner up, I unlatched the trap door and scurried down the ladder.

"Come on Klaus!" I whisper-screamed at his awkwardly-positioned silhouette hovering above me.

Quickly he hurried down the ladder, and rolled the rug back over the trap door. The trap door clicked shut just as footsteps began to pound above us.

Panting, we looked at each other and smiled.

"So, how's-"

I don't know what fuelled me to do it. Maybe, being in danger stirred my old feelings. Maybe the way he looked at me with admiration and happiness, just kickstarted my heart. Who knows, maybe I was just being a pubescent teenager. Whatever the reason, something inside me clicked. 

"I've missed you Klaus." I whispered, nearing him.

"Me too." 

Before I knew it, I instinctively threw my arms around him and kissed him. 

As our lips met, static electricity coursed through my veins, making me giddy. I felt starbursts of golden elation, flickers of surprise and tingles of excitement.

When we finally pulled apart I don't know what happened to me either.

Maybe I was confused with my numerous, overwhelming emotions. Maybe my first kiss provided me with weird side affects. Perhaps I just wanted to be humorous.

I guess I'll never find out. Anyway, the moment our lips parted I burst into laughter, alongside Klaus.

We laughed the merriment out of our souls, the joyous sound echoing along the tunnel walls.

It seemed a foreign sound to me at first, but slowly the sound became familiar, until I was only focused on the shaking of my lips and the warm tears of mirth, slipping down my cheeks.

After what seemed a euphoric eternity, our laughter ceased.

I beamed again at Klaus.

Then I felt cold panic rise through me.

Was this the end? Were we going to have to split ways again? Was I going to lose him? I couldn't!

"Oh Klaus, come with me." I whispered longingly to him.

"How could I refuse?" He teased, before he grinned, "I was about to suggest the same."

I beamed as our warm fingers tangled, and we began to walk back to V.F.D headquarters and begin a conversation of all the things we had done since we parted.

 As the lights flickered, we held each other, laughing at jokes we made and smiling and blushing at descriptive compliments we voiced.

And as I enjoyed this moment, I realised something.

How good it was to be "we" again.

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (19) || atz

You watch from the mast as Nassau comes into sight.

The past few days have been spent gearing up for the plan. To disguise the ship, you and the crew have all slaved away on your journey to Seonghwa’s hometown, taking down the distinct blue square sails of the ship and rigging the masts with patchy, torn sails grey from age.

Over the last few days, you and Wooyoung have gotten much closer from working together in the sails all the time. The head gunner had taken one look at your face after your incident with Yeosang and offered to sit with you in the crow’s nest until you felt better. Although you had been boiling over with fury, ready to push him away, he simply told you that he wouldn’t ask any questions.

He wasn’t smiling when he said that, so you agreed.

Yeosang never came to apologize, the coward.

The two of you had merely sat quietly in the crow’s nest, watching the sun set and the stars come out at night. Half the time you had expected Wooyoung’s mouth to open his mouth with some dumb question, but he had just remained silent the entire time, not even looking at you in the least. The two of you simply watched sky and sea become one, both melding into a single canvas of inky black, the stars both above and reflected beneath you. And you had thought long and hard about what you’d said to Yeosang.

I hate you.

You’d used the worst word you could have possibly have. You weren’t just angry with him. You didn’t just immensely dislike him. You had completely lost your damn mind.

Yeosang, one of the quietest and purest people to ever walk the earth and sail the sea. The silent, kind and all knowing navigator who you spotted talking to the birds in the harbor of Tortuga because he was so fascinated by them. The man who’d only ever shown you kindness and given you comfort. The one who never hesitated to help you no matter what your requests were and answered your questions about anything and everything. You’d told him that you hated him.

“I think I screwed something up.” You’d told Wooyoung, head resting against his shoulder. One thing you’d learned about Wooyoung was that he loved physical contact, craved it even, as long as you didn’t surprise him with it. His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you close to stay warm in the crisp night air.

“You just noticed?” The tone of his comment was anything but snark, and he didn’t say a word more. You’d fallen asleep against his shoulder, as if hoping his warmth could fend off the guilt and frozen anger in you.

The next morning when you had woken up, he was still there in the same position, one arm around you, watching the sunrise.

For the duration of the trip to Nassau, you hadn’t spoken to Yeosang once. Even though the two of you had bumped into each other rather frequently, Yeosang had just lowered his head and brushed past you like you weren’t there, and you had done the same.

You were still too angry to talk rationally to him.

I hate you.

You were still too confused to ask him why he would do this to you.

I hate you.

You were still too ashamed to face him for what you had said.

In an attempt to escape him, you’d simply juggled between staying in the rigging or cooking in the kitchens. San had asked you repeatedly about why your face had been so down during your lessons together, but you honestly didn’t know how to answer him.

So you simply hadn’t.

“Chin Hae?”

You turn absentmindedly on the yardarm to face Wooyoung as he makes his way to you, swinging between ropes as he settles next to your side. The two of you have finished your task in taking down the orange and black ATEEZ flag and carefully ripping holes in the sails, so you have nothing to do for now.

“Will everything really be okay?” You ask him quietly. You don’t like where this plan is going at all.

Wooyoung merely shrugs with a matter-of-fact smile as he glances at the dark shape that is Nassau begins to grow in size. “I trust captain. And even if it doesn’t turn out okay, I stick with the crew. They’ll never abandon us.”

You nod. Even if you’re not really very positive about where this plan is going, you’ll stay with the ship and its crew.

The plan, in fact, is to infiltrate Nassau as a merchant ship running from pirates. The cannons have been stowed in a special hidden space right beneath the main deck, and the weapons kept away in a compartment in the main hold.

But there’s a sinking feeling in your chest.

“Chin Hae! Wooyoung-ah!” Mingi calls from the main deck and you look down to see the quartermaster standing there. He looks equally as tense as you are, mouth pressed into a line. “Captain wants to see you to go over the plan one last time.”

You nod. Both you and Wooyoung leap from the rigging, sliding down easily with leather gloves on your hands and landing as lightly as a cat. If Yunho had the opportunity to see you instead of practicing his role in the plan, he’d definitely be proud of you.

The two of you move to the cabin, silently trailing the quartermaster quietly. There’s a tense silence over the deck as the crew merely watch the town of Nassau come closer and closer in sight. Everybody knows what the consequences are if the authorities see through your ploy.

The Treasure will be burnt to ashes.

The crew will be hung.

And yet none of them are backing down.

Your footsteps barely make sound on the wooden floorboards as you step into the captain’s cabin after Wooyoung. The door swings shut behind you and the two of you greet Yunho quietly, who’s seated on the bed silently rehearsing his lines.

Hongjoong turns from coaching Yunho and turns to the two of you. The first thing you notice is the dark circles beneath your captain’s eyes, as if he hasn’t slept in days, which is probably true. He’s carrying all your lives on his shoulders with this plan, and should it go wrong every single one of you will be strung up like dried fish in the marketplace.

You swallow uncomfortably at the thought and stand a little straighter in front of the captain’s desk.

The plan is scribbled down everywhere, on sheets of paper littered around the desk. Some you recognise as your captain’s calligraphy, some as Mingi’s scribbles, and the rest as Yeosang’s neat notes.

You force your eyes away from them.

“When we get to Nassau, it’ll be around evening.” Hongjoong jerks a thumb at Yunho, who’s rereading his script with the most haunted, terrified look you’ve seen. It’d make you worry, but you’ve already seen the careful construction that goes on behind this facade and know it’s nothing more than an act. “There’ll be an official coming to check the ship, so don’t be shocked when it happens.”

As Hongjoong and Mingi have discussed, the only literate people on this ship are Hongjoong, Mingi, Seonghwa, San, Yunho, Yeosang and you. Hongjoong is much too striking with his eye patch, so he can’t be the one the ship presents as captain when the ship enters the port of Nassau. Mingi’s out because of his deep blue hair.

San is needed on board as a healer, Seonghwa’s face is probably still on an arrest warrant in Nassau, and Yeosang simply doesn’t have a presence commanding enough to be a captain. You, too, have no idea how port authorities work, so the only one left to the role is Yunho.

It is strange to see your captain not in his usual red jacket, his signature look has been swapped out for a more unassuming white shirt and trousers. But no matter what he dresses in, he still exudes authority with every action and you hang on to every word he says.

“Yeosang and Seonghwa have done a map of where the official lives. It’s a small estate surrounded by a few houses in which the townspeople live. Do you remember his name?”

“Lucio Bartholomew.” Wooyoung echoes from memory. Hongjoong nods confirmation.

“You’ll need to infiltrate the estate from the back wall under the cover of night. Find out how many guards there are, where his office is and come right back.”

The head gunner inclines his head in understanding.

Then the captain turns to you, his eyes softening.

“Are you prepared?”

You nod. There’s a fear pulling at you from the inside, and you’re terrified as well.

Because you’re going on this mission too.

That’s why you’ve been spending so much time on the masts and rigging, learning how to move along ropes, to scale them as quickly and silently as possible. As the only other literate person on board who doesn’t have any outstanding physical traits for the town watch to recognize you by, your role in this mission is to read the plaques and clues around you to find Lucio Bartholomew’s room.

You’re also the only one light enough for Wooyoung to work with when using the grappling hook, thus you have been selected by the captain for this infiltration mission.

These five whole days in the rigging, you’ve memorized Wooyoung’s odd little cues and mannerisms, learning how to communicate with him silently without sound, familiarizing yourself with the way he moves. The two of you will need to move in absolute tandem, be of the same mind, before you can succeed on this mission.

The pressure is immense.

“This reminds me of those ninja I heard about before from Japan.” Wooyoung tries to smile, but it comes out more forced than reassuring. Hongjoong stands and inclines his head to the two of you.

“Thank you for doing this, Wooyoung, Chin Hae.” He says so seriously that you feel a lump growing in your throat. Everyone knows how risky this mission is, how dire the consequences will be if you fail. You won’t only be captured, but also jeopardize Seonghwa’s chances of ever getting to confront the official who’d killed his family.

“We’ll be fine.” You manage to lie through your teeth, trying to sound a lot more confident than you feel. Hongjoong’s eye shifts over to the head gunner next to you.

“Take care of Chin Hae, Wooyoung.”

Your captain’s care warms you for a short moment despite your mounting terror at what may be your a terrible fate. Wooyoung meets his captain’s gaze evenly.

“I will, Hongjoong-hyung.” No syllable is empty or void of intent. His words are a promise, a vow and an oath. “I’ll make sure he comes back alive.”

The captain holds the two of you by the shoulders, seemingly overwhelmed with emotion for a moment. “I wish you all the luck the world can offer. If my blessing could be of any use, I hope it will be on the two of you as well.”

The three of you fall silent for a moment, suddenly too aware of the fact that this may be the last time are seeing each other. Then Wooyoung looks up, sniffing the air once. You know what that means.

You’ve reached port.

Not a second later, the bell of the ship rings. You hear Mingi’s voice from the main deck, and Yunho stiffens uncomfortably, looking like a lamb that has just been sent to the slaughterhouse.

“We’ve arrived at Nassau!”

“Good luck, Yunho-hyung.” You say as brightly as you can, which isn’t much. Yunho smiles nervously, throwing the script into a drawer built into the captain’s desk as he fidgets uncomfortably, adjusting the collar of his silk shirt befitting the captain of a merchant ship.

“I’ll try my best.” With that, the four of you step out onto the main deck.

Wooyoung’s hand slips into yours as the two of you make your way to the bow. “Are you nervous?” He whispers out of the side of his mouth. You feel the cold sweat of his palm, the way his fingers seem to be locked in place, and you know that he is anything but calm on the inside. You decide to be honest.

“So much I want to dive straight into the sea and swim back to Tortuga.” You murmur back. Now that is no lie.

The Treasure has begun to enter the port, pulling up against a dock. Men working at the harbor catch the mooring lines your crew tosses over the side, pulling you against the wharf. Mingi gives the order for the anchor to be dropped.

The gangplank is lowered and the harbor official steps aboard, followed by a squadron of twenty soldiers, all armed with bayonets and flintlock rifles. His skin is pale, almost white as porcelain, and his hair is a shade of striking platinum blonde, his uniform neat and tidy. The way his fingers dance on the hilt of his cutlass tells you he’s a man who’s seen many a battle, and that the gold patches at his shoulders are not merely for decoration. A bead of cold sweat trickles down your temple as you take your place between Jongho and Wooyoung.

Jongho gives you a reassuring smile, but you can see that his eyes are dark with anxiety.

“Who’s the captain of this ship?” The official demands coolly, eyes scanning the number of seamen before him. Yunho steps forward, Mingi and Yeosang flanking him.

“I am. My name is Donghae.” He bows to the official, one hand over his heart in a sign of respect and honour. “I’m the captain of the Heron, this is my quartermaster Jiho and my bosun Sungjin.”

“I didn’t ask for their names. My name is Yoongi, head of port inspection and lieutenant of the Royal Navy.” The official replies curtly. His eyes remind you of a hawk’s, scanning the deck for anything out of place like a bird of prey. This man will be a difficult one to fool. “What is your business at Port Nassau?”

“My crew and I were threatened by pirates.” Yunho answers, inclining his head as if ashamed. “I could only let them take what cargo I had on board.”

The official raises a sharp, well defined eyebrow as he takes in the sight of the crew. “A rather merciful pirate ship if it let you go unscathed.”

“We did not put up any fight, good sir.” Yunho explains, sounding tired and defeated, as if he’s really spent the day before surrendering to a pirate ship. “They threatened us with cannonfire, but we hoisted the white flag before they could fire on us.”

“Is that so?” The lieutenant’s eyes rake every one of the crew. When his ice cold eyes meet yours, you feel a shiver travelling down your spine. “They didn’t fire on you?”

“No, sir.” Yunho confirms, nodding his head. The official’s eyes darken minutely.

“Then what is your purpose here?”

“To restock on provisions and freshwater, as well as mend the sails on board the ship.” Yunho says as honestly as he can. It’s technically not a lie, but it’s definitely not the whole truth either.

The lieutenant’s face remains unreadable as he turns away to face his men.

“Jungkook!” A young officer salutes and moves over to his lieutenant.

“Sir?”

“Register the Heron in dock seven. The rest of you, move back to your stations.”

You very nearly sag in relief, but you manage to keep yourself upright from sheer will alone.

“Yes sir!” The soldiers chorus, turning back and marching down the gangplank, boots thundering on the gangplank.

Yoongi gives Yunho a piercing stare. “Move your ship to dock seven. There is to be no one leaving the ship from between the evening bell and the morning bell for the safety of this town and its citizens. I hope you have a pleasant stay.”

He turns to leave, then pauses.

You see the lieutenant glance back at you for a moment, raising his nose to sniff the air. Then he whirls around and leaves.

Once the deck clears of the officials, you slump against Jongho, who pats you on the back comfortingly. You hadn’t even realised how terrified you had been until the ordeal was over, leaving you feeling boneless and weak.

The entire crew breathes a sigh of relief.

Yunho manages to shoot his captain a feeble grin, but he looks like he’s just been run over by a horse and then the cart the horse was drawing. “Phase one down.”

That night, you’re changing into a dark attire in your room with San’s eyes respectfully averted. You’re numb, what you’re about to do doesn’t feel quite real to you except for the terror slowly creeping up your legs. You fasten the clasp at the neck, before throwing a motley brown cloak around you to hide the bulge of the grappling rope tied at your waist.

“I’m done.” You breathe to San, and your master turns to you, passing you the silver hairpin in his hand. You tuck it in your belt, before looking at the healer. His face is completely unreadable, and for once, you find it difficult to interpret the look in his eyes.

Remember to smile.

You try to pull your lips upwards, desperate to ease the worry from his shoulders. “How do I look, master?”

Suddenly, San lunges forward, throwing his arms around you in a massive, rib crushing hug that seems impossible for a man so lithe. You can’t see his face because it’s buried in your shoulder, but you can feel the way his arms are trembling even as he tries to steady himself.

“Promise me you’ll come back to me safe and in one piece, alright?” His voice is just a little hoarse, cracking from raw emotion and vulnerability. You’ve never taken the time to fully appreciate how close you’ve gotten to San, what the green haired healer means to you. Your benefactor, your partner in crime, your master, your family. He is almost like flesh and blood to you at this point, your relationship as a master and apprentice nearly unbreakable.

But you don’t have the time to tell him what he has come to mean to you, so instead you return the hug as tightly as possible.

“I can’t promise that.” You’ve never lied to your master before, and you don’t intend to start making it a habit now. “But I will do my best to come back to you alive.”

The two of you stay like that for a moment, before someone knocks on the door gently. “Hey.” Jongho’s head peeks in through the doorway and the two of you slowly untangle from the hug. “It’s time to go.”

You give him the best smile you can muster and move over to the maknae, whose head is downcast. But something seems to weighing heavily on his shoulders, and you frown.

“What is it, Jongho-hyung?”

“If only-” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, trying again. “If only I could read… I could have gone in your place. I don’t… I don’t want you to be in danger.”

You feel a gentle warmth stirring in you in spite of your fear.

“Thank you, Jongho-hyung.” You press him into a quick hug. The young battlemaster stiffens slightly upon the contact, but then squeezes you back tightly before releasing you. “But I’ll be fine.”

He clearly doesn’t believe you, but nods anyway. “Stay safe.”

It’s with their well wishes that you make your way up the main deck.

Wooyoung’s waiting for you at the stern of the ship with the Captain, Mingi and Yeosang. He’s dressed similarly to you, all in black with a brown cloak thrown over his shoulders. Mingi gives you a black scarf to tie around your neck.

“Don’t get recognized.” He warns you, but you see the concern etched in his face. You take the strip of black cloth gratefully. Then you see Yeosang at the side, looking a little hesitant, still afraid to speak to you. Your heart squeezes painfully with anguish.

“Chin Hae-” He begins to say, but you turn to Wooyoung before he can finish his sentence. The navigator falls silent behind you.

You force yourself to concentrate at the task at hand. Wooyoung’s already thrown a rope over the starboard, the side of the ship facing away from the port and the prying eyes of the watch. You sling your leg over the side and look down into the inky dark sea, and for some reason, you don’t feel scared anymore.

This is just like the rigging lines. Just like you’re on the main mast again, playing around with Wooyoung and Yunho.

Maybe the adrenaline is finally kicking in. Or you’re just too scared to feel it anymore.

“We’ll be going now.” You tell them seriously. Hongjoong’s eye fixes on yours.

“All the best, the two of you.” Then he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “Come back to me alive. That’s an order.”

A small, fond smile twitches on your lips and the two of you echo together. “Yes, captain.”

Then the two of you slide down the rope into the sea, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

[mrs-takami-keigo]

Watch Me Burn

This is my second tile crossed off of my BINGO card for @bnhabookclub ! I had a little too much fun writing this. This may or may not have a continuation, we shall see but so far it will!

Taglist :@gallickingun, @honeytama, @hawks-senseis​ @thisisthehardestthing @joyousandverywarlike @shoutogepi @katsukikitten @prismaroyal

Description: During a mission Hawks saw you get a little too close to Dabi and you needed to be taught a lesson.

Pairings: Jealous Dom Hawks x Prohero! Reader

Rating: Explicit! 18+

Warnings: Bondage, Degradation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Spanking and lots and lots of Hawks cussing.

How long had your arms been tied up to the silver chains hanging from the ceiling? No clue. How many times has Hawks spanked you? You’ve lost count. You know nothing but the pleasure the man behind you is making you feel. The way his breath fans over your shoulder as a single digit delicately runs  down between your shoulder blades followed by a sharp pain on your ass when his hand comes slamming down slapping it. You can already feel the affected area begin to heat up, positive it is going to swell in the form of his hand.  

“You’ve been such a naughty girl haven’t you? Pressing yourself against Dabi like some common whore.” Hawks snakes a hand around your throat, applying pressure as he speaks. “Is that what you are dove, a common fucking whore? Were you going to spread your legs for him, you slut!”

Another slap on your ass in the same sore spot he has hit numerous times already. A muffled scream came out from your mouth because of the pain, the delicious pain. Others would think you were insane for liking this but you could care less. Hawks knows what he is doing so you weren’t in any real danger, but god does  this feel good.

You are a pro hero in his agency, part of his special task force. When you first met him you couldn’t stand his cocky, self absorbed attitude. Every day you just wanted to punch him in his sinfully handsome face. Until that fateful agency party where you both drank too much of a ‘special’ punch and before you knew it Hawks was plowing into you from the back while he was pulling on your hair calling you every name in the book.

After spending time with each other you've come to realise that Hawks was a jealous kind of man. But it is such a fucking turn on, you recall how on occasion you would flirt with a random hero or civilian in front of him, just so you can be punished for it later.

You were on a mission that required you to infiltrate the LOV and befriend Dabi, by any means necessary. It just so happened that today was Hawks’ day to keep tabs on you, making sure the mission was going smoothly and it was the first time you’ve seen him in about two weeks. When you heard his wings flap in the distance you felt your cunt clench at the thought of him seeing you with Dabi. For some unknown reason Dabi had this odd effect on Hawks, and you were gonna use that to your advantage.

You could practically feel his hawk-like gaze follow you as you grabbed onto Dabi’s long arm while walking down the abandoned pier. As if adding insult to injury, you pressed your breasts against him as you continued the conversation and Dabi never moved you away or made a look of disgust, no it looked as if Dabi enjoyed your flirtations. You just knew Hawks’ blood was boiling as he watched you walk into the abandoned warehouse with the other man.

Which led you to this very moment, naked, tied up, legs spread apart, cuffed to the ground and a ball gag in your mouth as he has his way with you.

“What’s this? You thinking of that burnt douche bag while I punish you? You sure are shameless aren’t ya?” Hawks now stood in front of you, bringing you back from your thoughts. Both of his hands run down your chest going towards your nipples. Taking each one of them between his thumb and pointer finger, Hawks pinched and twisted them. Another muffled scream soared through your mouth. The ball gag was causing you to drool all over yourself, water started to form in the corner of your eyes. God did you miss him, even if you weren’t in an established relationship. You both had agreed that your jobs were way too dangerous and complicated to involve feelings. Nonetheless you missed your birdman.

“Have you learned your lesson baby bird?”

You nod your head vigorously, hoping he would get rid of the gag. Stepping behind you Hawks began to undo the buckle of the gag that was behind your head, tangled up in your hair. As soon as the gag was undone you spit it out of your mouth, breath heavy.

“Please…” Your words came out as a croak. Your throat is dry from the ball gag and your constant drooling.

“Please what? Tell daddy what you want.” Hawks moves your hair to one side as he starts a trail of kisses on your shoulder. Each kiss feels like it is burning your skin, your pussy begins to pulsate even more.

“Touch me please.” Your head falls back in pleasure as he bites down on the junction of where your neck and shoulder met.

His hands start to graze down your sides, his nails slightly digging into you. “Like this?” Shaking your head as you try to hold in a moan when his hands grip your hips.

“Come on baby girl you gotta help me out, you want me to touch you here?” His chin is leaning over your shoulder, golden eyes peering at you. The scruff on his chin scratching your skin every time he opens his mouth. Those damned skillful hands make their way from your hips, down to the front of your thighs before finding their way between your legs, just below your now slick cunt.

He is teasing you, making you squirm. That's all you can do with these restraints he put on you. The sounds of the metal chains clinking echoes through the room.

“Not there, please touch my pussy Hawks.” You try to push your ass back into him, feeling his hard cock press against you through his hero costume.

Hawks wasted no time when you walked through the agency doors. He swooped you up in his arms as he flew through the lobby, heading towards the basement.

A short while after you had started this guilty pleasure of your’s, Hawks changed the old storage room into a sex room of sorts. It was made of thick grey concrete walls that just so happened to be soundproof. He had set up the chains, sex swing and all other pieces of furniture in the room up himself, seeing as it was his own agency who the fuck was going to tell him no.

“Why should I? You were so ready to bend over for fucking Dabi of all people. Why should I give you what you want, hmm?” His hands on your thigh start to grip you even tighter, Hawks is trying to leave marks all over your body. He wants to remind you exactly who you belong to.

“I promise I’ve been good. So please, please touch me. I wanna feel your hands slip between my slick pussy lips and play with my clit, I’m begging you.” You make sure to grind your bare ass against him one more time to get your point across.

“How can I resist when my baby bird is begging like the good fucking slut she is.” While still behind you, Hawks slips two of his digits past your wet folds, landing on your hardened clit. Pure ecstasy runs through your body as Hawks applies pressure while sliding his two fingers over it slowly and repeatedly. “Goddamn! You’re so fucking wet. If I'm not careful my fingers might just slide into that tight pussy of yours.”

His wet, hot tongue licks the shell of your ear, his canine teeth bite down on the cartilage. Hawks' free hand has come up to palm your breast, your nipple slipping between his fingers allowing him to pinch you again. Your mind is getting fuzzy from all the different sensations you are experiencing.

“Aah fuck Hawks!” Without warning he had slipped his digits into your core, stretching your walls.

“Oops, my hand slipped.” he chuckled, his fingers started to move in and out of you. “Mmm fuck baby girl I missed this pussy of yours.”

Hawks starts to grind his pelvis against your ass, his confined hard cock rubbing between your ass cheeks. “You don’t know how crazy you make me feel.” You have wrapped your hands around the metal chain, gripping it so hard your hands have started to cramp. With each word he speaks Hawks gets faster and faster.

“You know what I had to do while you were gone? I had to fucking touch myself. My hand pumped my cock as I imagined it was your tight cunt sucking me in. Shit, someone mentioned your name in a meeting and all I could hear was your voice, screaming, moaning as I pounded into you.”  

You can feel yourself about to come, the sounds of your wet pussy juices sloshing as he finger-fucks you. His voice, god his fucking voice. It’s so low, almost like a growl, it sends vibrations through your body.

Limbs start to shake as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde man behind you. With a smirk Hawks nuzzles himself into the side of your neck.

“Let me feel you cum all over my hand baby, I wanna feel it.” He sucks hard on your neck, delicious pain shot through you again.

“AAH!” That is all you can scream as your walls tighten around his fingers, cumming all over them. Your lower stomach convulsing against his sturdy body. When Hawks pulls his fingers out he makes sure to brush against your sensitive clit, sending shock waves to your system.

“Look at this mess you made baby.” He brings his fingers up to your face, showing you just exactly how much you came for him. Both his pointer and middle finger were saturated with your essence, it was beautiful.

“Good thing I'm starving.” Eyes watch his fingers as he brings them to his lips. That pink tongue making its appearance again, taking a languid lick of your juices before putting both fingers into his mouth.

“So fucking delicious. I will never get tired of the way you taste.” You feel your already sensitive cunt ache as he cleans off his fingers, moaning as he does so.

“Kiss me.”

Hawks looks at you with a slightly shocked expression. You may have had sex in almost every possible position, scenario and way but you never kissed. It was something neither of you had brought up and seemed very intimate, which is what this wasn’t.

“Kiss me Hawks please!” The desperation in your voice and the way you had light drool falling from your lips, hair sticking to your sweaty forehead, face flushed and your breath shallow. Hawks couldn’t hold himself back.

Gripping your jaw with his hand, Hawks holds your face as he brings his face closer to your own. Molten golden eyes never leave yours as your breath mingles with his. That's when he slams his lips against yours. The passion that ignites your body from his lips as they move against your own is intoxicating.

Hawks let out a shuddering breath when you arch your back, rubbing against him. He is losing himself in your kiss. Hawks had imagined what it would be like to kiss you more than once but fucking hell was this better than anything his imagination could ever come up with.  

The kiss turned from passion to carnal desire. Tongues fighting for dominance and teeth clashing, a kiss that would make aphrodite herself blush. Hawks breaks away from you, his breathing matching yours and now it’s his turn to have his face flushed and lips swollen.

“Fuck…” That is all he says, keeping his eyes closed, trying to burn the feeling of your lips on his, in his memory. You are still moving your hips, gyrating into his pelvis. Soon you feel large hands on your hips, ceasing your movements to a halt.

“If you keep doing that I'm gonna cum in my pants baby girl.” Your head was still turned to the side, leaning on his bare shoulder.

“Then fuck me Hawks.” You move your head forward kissing his neck, earning a low moan in return. “I want you, no, I need you.”

Hawks growls before backing away from you and bending down, using the key on his wrist to unlock the cuffs around your ankles. You relish in the feeling of your ankles being freed from the metal clasps. Hawks stood up after unlocking both, and began undoing the buckle and button on his pants.

“Aren’t you gonna unlock my wrists?” You shake your numb arms causing the chains to clink together loudly.

“Oh no I’m still fucking pissed. Your gonna have to use your upper body strength as I fuck you sweet heart.” His eyes are dark with lust as he gets rid of his pants, palming his hard cock.

“Grab onto the chains beautiful and lift your legs for me.” Doing as he said you grabbed the chains while using your core to pull your legs up, wrapping them around his waist.

“Now lean back.” Leaning back as far as you could, you watch in amazement as Hawks spat on his dick. “You ready?”

God were you ever. Nodding your head, Hawks wraps a hand around your waist as he positions himself against your throbbing hole.

“Oh! Fuck!” Hawks snapped his hips forward not giving you a chance to have your walls stretch for him.

Hawks coos at the feeling of you wrapped around his dick, at how wet you still are for him. “Hold on tight baby bird cause I’m not stopping til we both fucking cum, ya hear me?” You couldn’t even get a word in before he started to plow in to you.

The sound of skin slapping and your desperate moans of pleasure ring throughout the room. Hawks’ blonde hair that is usually pushed back is falling in his face, mouth open as his growls and moans mix with yours. A light sheen of sweat starts to form on his chest, glistening in the fluorescent lights of the basement. You aree still holding onto the chains but your arms are already weak from being up for so long that right now they are ready to just let go.

Seeing your arm shaking Hawks moves one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb. This action causes a shock to your system making you lose your grip on the chain, you drop slightly.

“SHIT! Right there, don’t stop!” Because of the slip it made Hawks hit that small bundle of nerves, you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck baby. You look so sexy right now.” He grits out through clenched teeth, sharp intakes of breath between each sentence.”I can see my dick disappear inside the tight cunt of yours. It’s so fucking pretty!”

You can feel that sensation coming back again, you are about to cum, you are about to cum hard.

“That’s it baby cum, cum with me!” his hips and thumb pick up their pace, your toes curl as you feel it.

“Fuck Keigo!” You don’t know what compelled you to say his real name but it's what sent Hawks over the edge and before he knew it, he was cumming inside of you. His hips falter as he empties himself inside of you.  

You both stay in that position, him holding you by your hips, his dick still buried deep inside of you. Chests moving rapidly, up and down.

“Hold on I’m gonna let you down now.” He slowly slides out of you, grabbing a hold of your waist, Hawks brings you closer to him as he unlocks the clamps on your wrists. Once free your arms came down like rocks, slumping themselves over his shoulders. Leaning your forehead against his damp shoulder, Hawks walks you towards the bed he had put down there.

Gently he places you on the bed, his hand placed behind your head, setting it down gently on the pillow.

“I’m just gonna get a warm rag for you okay?” His voice is so tender and warm, it makes you feel safe. He quickly throws on his pants and jacket, zippering it up before he flies out of the room. You assumed it was already late, meaning no one will really be around to see him flying around grabbing the things you need.

In a matter of minutes Hawks flies back into the room, his vermillion wings stretched out. He has a lot of items bunched in his arms. Dropping them on the bed Hawks shed himself of his jacket. Grabbing a rag that still had steam coming off of it, he walked closer to you.

“Thank you.” You reach out to grab it, only to have your hands swatted away by his.

“I’ll do it, just lay down.” Hawks pushes you back down to the bed softly as he begins to clean you up with the rag. You’ve never seen Hawks be this attentive before. Sure he’s cuddled you and would caress your hair as you fell asleep, but he's never cleaned you up.

“There we go.” He stood up straight looking at his handy work. “I brought you some icy-hot patches for your muscles and aleve if you need. And what else.” Hawks started to rummage through the pile of drinks, snacks, other pain relievers if you needed.

Sitting up you grab his forearm trying to grab his attention. Once his eyes met yours you spoke. “Just come and lay down with me please?” You tug on his arm, dragging him onto the bed.

Smiling Hawks climbs onto the bed. Turning to face him, you snuggle up against his chest using his arm as a pillow, his chin rests on the crown of your head. You can feel his arm drape across your waist, pulling you in, the arm you were resting your head on came up to play with your hair. Legs mingled together, a plush red wing coming across your body covering you like a blanket, your breath evening out drifting off to sleep.

“What the hell have you done to me?” Hawks' own eyes started to close, as he too drifted into a deep sleep.

[octupus-on-the-moon]

A table

~It's been done *laughs in Dr. Frankenstein*. After a lot of sweat, cursing and repeatedly flipping of my laptop and tablet. A new part of a nightmare is ready. It's a bit longer because of my absence and I hope I can keep my motivation up~

《 Previous - Masterlist - Next 》

Ninth part of nightmare

Word count: 1,814

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Warning: Non I guess. Just some fluff and a burned gratine.

Bucky opened the door, awaiting the cold, baldness of the walls. To end up being surprised by the green he saw everywhere.

He totally forgot the little plants, y/n bought for him. They really made a difference. A welcome one. His clenched jaw and frowned eyebrows disappeared.

After taking of his jacket, he took an empty glass and went around pouring some water in all the colorful pots. He cursed under his breath, after he spilled some water for the second time. Mentally making a note to buy a watering can. Without noticing that his dark thoughts lifted and the silence around him was a welcome one, rather than a threatening menace.

Barnes looked at his wristwatch. It was still over an hour, till y/n would come back from college. He felt a sting of joy in his stomach.

That was new, Bucky wondered. It was probably just the excitement of finally having something to look forward to, instead of enduring one day after the other with the same maddening routine.

In the meanwhile, he could be useful and cook lunch. Y/n would be hungry after college and he had promised to cook the next time. Bucky looked in the fridge and cupboards. Potatoes, cheese and bacon. Exactly what he needed

Y/n had 30 minutes of lecture left, till she was free. She really wanted to go back to her little room in James’s apartment after the first class, but Monday was full of important courses, so she somehow managed to convince herself to stay.

The short call with James lifted her spirits considerably. It was his stoic way of talking, as soon as she showed a bit of interest in him, that made her feel warm inside. Her thoughts wandered off. To him. To the unpleasant night and how she finally saw the scared child he was. But then they went off to his blue eyes and the little crinkles around them when he frowned.

He must have been quite a look back in the forties.

Of course she had seen the photos in the Smithsonian, but she pictured him in a classier way. With a fitted suit and a fedora hat, walking down the street stealing hearts. Maybe a girl at his side and his eyes constantly lingering around her, as if she were the whole world and more. At the thought of it, y/n caught herself picturing a girl just like her, beside his tall figure.

That made her stop and turn back to reality. It was not a good sign. Or maybe it was. It felt like forever, since she let someone into her life and James was pretty much the last person she would have thought of. But she also did not expect her father being a criminal and her whole existence a facade.

Life was full of twists and turns lately. Some good, some bad. Maybe it was time to let something good happen.

“Ms. y/l/n, could you resume the discussed topic?” The professors sharp tone ripped y/n out of her train of thought. This will be the longest 30 minutes of my life, she thought.

A quite knock on the door distracted Barnes from intensely starring at the oven. He decided himself for a simple potato gratin, that would hopefully suite y/n’s taste. With is heart beating a bit too fast he neared himself the door.

And there she was. Her hair a little mess. A bag casually hanging around her shoulder and a beam as bright as the sun itself.

“Will you let me in or just keep starring?” Her playful greeting made Bucky’s heart stumble and without wasting words he stepped aside. He made another mental note. His gaze is not to be trusted. “How was therapy?” she asked letting her bag slide to the floor entering the kitchen in on smooth motion “Who of you two bit off the other one´s head first?” It took Bucky moment to get out of his trance.

“I….. We…. It went good” Barnes cleared his throat closing the door behind him “But she got a little suspicious about me deciding to cooperate” Y/n was drinking a glass of water leaning against the counter and once again Bucky could not get his eyes off of her.

“I did not think about that. We should have done one thing at a time. But I guess it´s too late now. Oh! And it smells amazing” she replied signing over to the oven. The quick hand move, the way her voice floated in the air, that one fuzzy hair in her face, everything captured him. “I…” A sharp smell tingling his nose interrupted Barnes. It came from the hot oven in the middle of the kitchen. His concentration fully gathered again, let him act quickly, reaching over for a rug and rescuing his gratin in the last moment. The crust was now a bit darker than needed but it was still acceptable.

“It´s a burned potato gratin” Barnes darkly commented, placing the form in the center of the already ‘set up table’.

“Hey, don´t be so hard on yourself. It still looks amazing”

“I´m not being hard with myself, I´m blaming you. It wouldn´t have burned if you wouldn´t have distracted me” Bucky’s eyes were glimmering amused.

She gasped overly dramatic, laying one hand on her chest “Me?”

“Yes. You” He broke out into a smile, without wasting another thought he reached over to her, brushing that fuzzy string of hair out of her face. Y/n’s giggle stopped for a moment at the closeness between both, making place for a shy smile, her eyes searching the floor. Barnes retreaded himself, feeling a heavy stone inside his stomach, as he realized how intimate the gesture was.

She did not expect him coming so close, her heart was already fluttering and was about to explode at his touch. Then he moved away causing an emptiness inside her. The same emptiness she always felt since the day of the notification. It was the last time she felt truly fulfilled and at ease, she had dreams and goals. Then everything changed. Life suddenly was a landscape of grey. Every task dull and meaningless. Time passed. She soon enough noticed that the emptiness would stay and the grey would only flourish.

Then the nightmare happened. And the already grey landscape had now even dark shadows to be afraid of.

James moved away to cut and serve the gratin. Giving her a little time to calm down her heart beat and ‘take a seat’ on the kitchen counter. After another heartbeat of discreetly observing Bucky serve the plates, y/n decided to break the silence “James”

He looked up with a shy grin “Yes?”

“We really need to get you a table”

….

“Is it really necessary?” Bucky and y/n were standing in front of the furniture store. Bucky incredulously, Y/n exited.

“Well at least I am not going to keep eating on the floor and, or the counter. My back is literally hurting from eating the gratin”

“Yes, it’s true. But. I…” Barnes closed and opened his fists a few times weighting his options “Okey. I guess we can take a look around” She nodded enthusiastically leading the way into the shop, James sighted heavily and followed.

The store was more or less deserted, which relieved Barnes. He didn´t like being in a already overwhelmingly filled hall with an ever more overwhelming count of people in it. The exit routs were explicitly signed which calmed his anxiety a bit more.

The most urgent thing for y/n was definitely the table, which led them to the dinning room section.

“I feel like a mafia boss” Y/n declared sitting down on the front side of a heavy wooden table. The chair, throne-like, up-holstered in a red velvet.

“Yes. A very scary mafia boss” Bucky jeered from the other side of the aisle.

“Hey! I can be scary if I want to”

“Jupp, as scary as a teddy”

She got up from the huge seat and walked over to him “Have you ever started into the cold dead eyes of a teddy bear?”

Bucky thought for an overly long moment “No, I haven´t. What about this one?”

“James. That’s a plastic table and it isn´t even a good quality one. In half a year, you will need to buy a new one” grabbing his arm she dragged him away “Come on these place is gigantic, we can find something better”

Yet, they didn´t. Every table y/n suggested was rejected by Bucky and vice versa. It was mostly to big, to small, to pompous, to dull, to much seats, to little seats and so on.

Both had almost reached the end of the section, when y/n suddenly dragged Bucky over to another exemplar. It´s design was simple, a glass top and a blond wooden frame with matching metal legs. Four chairs coated in a clear fabric rounded the dining set.

“This one. It´s the perfect size and I think I saw stools that would match, for the counter” Y/n sounded near desperate. Bucky took his time to look around the table. He was searching for something specific on it.

The price tag.

Y/n had picked out the most beautiful and practical tables, but the price was often more then exorbitantly high, which led Bucky to refuse all her suggestions. And the same happened with this one, it was by far the best table she had found today. It would look amazing between the plants, near the window, the chairs comfortable to sit on, in the early mornings to drink coffee and read the paper. It was a shame the table was out of Bucky`s scarce budget.

“I don´t know” Barnes commented “The chairs will get dirty pretty fast” Y/n´s face dropped.

She really didn´t expect it being so hard to satisfy Bucky´s furniture taste. Y/n thought that given Bucky´s cloth taste, he would have somewhat the same taste for furniture. Modern, comfy and in style with the room. Yet, every piece he had found acceptable was old styled, plastic or just straight out in a horrible color “You really liked that plastic table didn´t you?” She sighted.

For the break of a second Bucky frowned disgusted, then he nodded convincingly. But it was enough for her to know, what was keeping them from agreeing for a piece of furniture.

Cheap.

Every single table he elected was not because of its design, colour or material, it was because it was cheap. For a moment y/n felt bad. It was selfish of her not thinking that way, even though she truly believed that she didn´t have a rich complex, sometimes she did forget that not everyone had unlimited resources.

“Maybe it´s time for a little break. I think I saw a popcorn stand outside” Bucky’s conflicted face lit up a bit at her words.

All rights reserved.

《 Previous - Masterlist - Next 》

Tags: @ginger-swag-rapunzel

[themurphyzone]

PatB: If I Can’t Love Him Ch 3

AN: I'm going to take a break from Nova and finish this fic. It's been 2 months since I last updated this anyway. 

AO3 Link

Ch 3: No Lesson Could Teach Me

The Beast's head throbbed like someone was repeatedly bashing his skull in with a hammer. Something cold and wet was wrapped around his right arm, which throbbed even more than his head. His front was exposed to wind and cold, his back against soft leather. 

He swayed from side to side, and a gentle hand pushed his shoulders so he didn’t lean too much in one direction. 

It was a strange touch, gentle and strong and graceful and frightening all at once. He didn't want the mouse touching him. 

Only infants and young children required physical contact. Not someone of his royal station, and certainly not beasts. 

Why save him? The mouse...no, his name was Pinky. It was the only thing he remembered as he slipped in and out of consciousness. Pinky had every right to leave him in the snow to be devoured by wolves or perish from exposure. 

A fitting punishment for all his failures to lift the curse and reclaim his throne.

The muffled clops from Pinky's horse gave way to sharp clacks on stone, sending a fresh wave of pain through the Beast's skull with each harsh sound. 

Then the horse came to a stop. 

The Beast opened his eyes and slowly pushed himself up. They’d arrived at the front doors of the castle. 

“Hello?” Pinky called. The Beast nearly tumbled off the horse in surprise, not expecting his voice to be so close to his ear. “We’re back!” 

An opening widened slightly at the door’s base, and Dot poked her teacup handle outside. Upon seeing them, her eyes lit up. Then she sounded the alarm, and a frenzy quickly arose from the servants as they threw the doors open as wide as they could, uncaring of any snow or debris that would blow into the foyer. 

It wasn’t just the Warners, who huddled together in shock and relief. Among the crowd, he spotted Hello Nurse off to the side, her range of motion highly limited since her harp form was rather heavy. Mindy, a porcelain doll, squealed in delight. Her purple dress was ruffled, skin slightly cracked from her misadventures around the castle. Buttons, her loyal dog turned footstool, made sure she didn’t get too close to the sharp hooves. The Goodfeathers, former pigeons who’d been caught in the curse as they roosted on the castle spires, hovered above everyone as featherdusters. Another footstool with scruffier tassels, Runt, wagged his rear dumbly. Rita, an angelic Christmas ornament, sat on him and surveyed everyone from her perch. Despite having an angel’s halo, robe, and wings, she was flexing her paws like she wanted to claw the Beast herself. 

 There were far too many eyes on the Beast for his liking. They didn’t have to stare. Pinky and the horse were alive, weren’t they? Isn’t that all that mattered? “I’m going back to the West Wing,” the Beast announced. “Don’t disturb me unless the castle’s on fire.” 

“Your arm is wrapped,” Hello Nurse said, like it wasn’t obvious already. Her arms were folded neatly in front, though she matched his glare with her own. “If my area of expertise is needed-”

“It’s not,” the Beast snapped. Hello Nurse was skilled in her trade, but he didn’t require anything except to be left alone. 

He just wanted to barricade himself in the West Wing, and either sleep or ponder a new plan for breaking the curse while ignoring that scornful rose. Because the whole ‘fall in love’ solution obviously wasn’t working, not that he’d ever lend it serious consideration.

“Hello, Hello Nurse!” Pinky waved to her. “Do you know how to treat wolf scratches, by any chance? Beast got clawed pretty badly.” 

The servants went into an uproar at that information. Individual voices were quickly lost in the cacophony, though there was much confusion, worry, and annoyance coloring everyone’s tones.  

“Don’t tell them!” the Beast growled at Pinky. 

Pinky folded his arms. “Zort! Well, it’s not like you were gonna tell them!” 

Though it was a true statement, he didn’t want that reflected back on him by some impudent rodent. 

“I would’ve explained eventually. And next time...” the Beast trailed off as his mind caught up to what Pinky said. “...did you just call me Beast?” 

Beast got clawed pretty badly. 

Pinky had said it so normally. Like it was any other name. 

Was it possible...oh, this was foolish. He knew better than to entertain fantasies. 

He’d lost the ability to read in the third year of the curse. And the year after that, he found it was impossible to invent. He snapped writing utensils with ease, whether by accident or out of frustration. 

If he couldn’t perform those simple tasks, then he didn’t deserve his old name. 

“Sorry. It’s just...um, you told me to call you Beast,” Pinky said. He seemed unsure for some strange reason. “Is that okay?” 

“It’s fine,” the Beast grunted. He wasn’t taking it back now. He was a prince, and princes, even former ones, never went back on their word once spoken. 

In the back, he saw Hello Nurse tap Dot’s rim. Dot leaned over as Hello Nurse whispered something to her. Then Dot pulled back and nodded firmly. Hello Nurse covered her ears.  

“EVERYBODY, QUIET!” 

Dot’s shriek echoed throughout the castle, rivalling his own roars in volume and intensity. It stunned everyone into silence, even Yakko, which was an achievement unto itself. 

The arguing servants stared at her. The only one unaffected was Mindy, who kept trying to touch the ‘pretty horsey’, and was barely being held back by Buttons’ wooden leg. 

“All yours,” Dot said to Hello Nurse. 

“Thank you, Dot,” Hello Nurse said, her voice somewhat unsteady from being so close to the blast radius. "May I remind everyone that there are three beings who are still in the cold, one of whom requires urgent medical attention?" 

"It's not that urgent," the Beast protested, but Hello Nurse ignored him as she organized the servants. 

"Yakko, light the fireplace and warm the room." 

Yakko saluted, a golden cap pulled low over his waxy head like a soldier's helmet. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" he shouted as he rushed away. 

"Wakko, fetch spare clothing and towels from the laundry room. Dot, run to the kitchen and ask Chef Flavio to heat some water, but not boil it." 

Wakko and Dot hurried out of sight, though Wakko quickly waddled back across the room once he realized the laundry room was in the opposite direction. 

“Goodfeathers, gather a cleaning crew and tidy up the entrance hall.” 

“Oi, do we look like maids to you?” Pesto shrieked as Squit and Bobby dragged him away by his dust-covered feathers. 

Before Hello Nurse could assign Rita, Runt, and Buttons to their tasks, a group of brushes and buckets skittered across the courtyard and came to a halt in front of Pinky’s horse, who stepped backwards with a nervous whinny at their sudden appearance. Pinky patted her side to calm her down, and the noises stopped. 

“We’ll take your horse to the stable, monsieur!” one of the brushes piped up. 

“We’ll take really good care of her!” a bucket added. 

Pinky shook his head, though he smiled gently at the disappointed stableboys. “Thanks for the offer, but I can do it myself. I don’t wanna trouble you or anything.” 

The Beast had seen Pinky frightened and defiant, but never smiling. It was strange. Somehow, the smile seemed like the most natural expression for Pinky to have. 

And now his thoughts were going off in a weird direction. The Beast quickly turned away, watching Buttons reluctantly hand off Mindy to a resigned Rita and a delighted Runt under Hello Nurse’s orders. 

“No trouble!” the brush said, and the brushes and buckets hopped in agreement. “None at all!” 

“It’s fine, really! Pharfignewton’s part of the family, so I’ve gotta take care of her,” Pinky said. 

Pharfignewton stomped her front hoof, her ears pinning back. She didn’t seem to agree at all. 

A blast of cold wind reminded the Beast that they were still exposed to the elements, and if they didn’t want to become icicles, they had to get inside now. 

“If I may,” Hello Nurse cut in before the Beast could say anything he’d probably regret later. “Pinky, I know you’re worried about your horse, but the stableboys are well-equipped to take over her care for now. I’d rather you warm up by the fireplace before doing anything else." 

"Well...if it's okay with you, Fig." Pinky carefully crawled up to Pharfignewton's head and down her long muzzle, quietly excusing himself as he passed the Beast. 

Pharfignewton nickered softly, and that seemed to satisfy Pinky. 

Buttons positioned himself on Pharfignewton’s left, digging his wooden legs into the ground as he waited for the Beast to dismount. 

“Move. I’ll walk there myself,” he said to Buttons, who adamantly shook his front end. Or what the Beast thought to be his head. It was hard to tell when the footstool had no visible face. 

And he wasn’t incapacitated. He’d recovered from his fainting spell just fine on the ride back. The offer was nothing more than an insult. 

A sudden bolt of pain traveled up his arm, and he clutched his injury with an agonized growl, almost falling off Pharfignewton in the process. 

“As for you, sir, you shouldn’t walk on your injured arm,” Hello Nurse said. “Unless you’d prefer to limp to your chair.” 

Limping on three limbs was even more humiliating than being carried, especially when Pinky was scrutinizing his every move. Slowly, the Beast slid from the saddle and onto Buttons, surprised that Pharfignewton was willing to bend down to make the transfer easier.

He tried not to think about accidentally cutting Buttons’ cloth with his claws. He didn’t understand how this accursed magic worked. Transforming living beings into inanimate objects made no sense from a scientific standpoint. 

Nor did having one’s insides become stuffing, brass, or wood or anything that didn’t normally belong in one’s body. 

It was somewhat nauseating if he pondered that concept too much. 

Pharfignewton gave Pinky a sloppy lick, and he hugged her nose in return. Then a spare coat rack took Pharfignewton’s reins and led her to the stables, surrounded by the entourage of stableboys. 

The Beast gripped a loose piece of golden trim to keep his balance as Buttons headed inside. The Goodfeathers arrived with the cleaning crew, who quickly set about cleaning all the dead twigs and snow that had accumulated at the entrance. 

Buttons pushed Hello Nurse across the stone floor while Rita and Runt herded Mindy in the direction of the servant’s quarters. Mindy was far too curious for her own good, too young to know her porcelain skin put her in greater danger if she strayed or touched something hot. It was a constant danger with Dot as well, who regularly insisted on keeping cushions laying around in strategic places so she could land safely. No amount of persuasion got through to her, not even from her own brothers. 

Pinky trailed behind Buttons. He still seemed to have trouble navigating the castle by himself. 

There was a loud crash behind them, and Buttons whipped around so fast that the Beast was nearly thrown off. 

“Gentle, Runt!” Rita scolded as Mindy recovered from being pushed too hard into a draconic gargoyle. But she popped up within seconds and giggled about silly puppies, so it wasn’t much of a cause for concern. There weren’t any new cracks on her porcelain. 

Runt whimpered and pawed the ground. “Sorry, Mindy. Bad dog. Definitely a bad dog.” 

Buttons growled a warning to Runt, who pressed himself to the ground in submission. Rita hissed right back as she patted the messy tassels on Runt’s head.  

“Aw, you’re not a bad dog!” Pinky ran over to Runt and embraced his leg. “It was just an accident.” 

“Eh, you ain’t bad. You’re just a klutz,” Rita said, which perked Runt up again. She flicked her paw dismissively. “Kiddo’s fine, Buttons. Take the boss to his brooding chair or something.” 

“It’s a pondering chair,” the Beast corrected. Everyone called it the brooding chair for some insane reason. He didn’t brood. He just used the chair to ponder ideas for breaking the curse. 

Really? You just stare into the flickering embers these days. Where are all your brilliant ideas now?

He really wanted to throw his internal monologue off the West Wing balcony. 

“Whatever you say, boss,” Rita shrugged. She flicked the tassels on Runt’s head, and they corralled Mindy to the servant’s quarters. 

Pinky waved goodbye to them, and Hello Nurse called for him to catch up to Buttons before he was left behind. Pinky barely looked as though his life had been in danger at all. 

Buttons crossed the threshold into the parlor, pushing Hello Nurse into a position between the fireplace and the stuffed armchair where she could easily supervise. 

The fireplace crackled with warm, orange flames. The heat alone was soothing to the Beast’s exhausted mind. Pinky stretched and basked in the warmth. Yakko preened in the attention his hard work received. 

Wakko and Dot stood on a side table next to the armchair. A bowl of warm, steaming water and a stack of towels was next to them. 

And most comforting of all, a wine-red cloak was neatly folded on the armchair’s cushion. Next to it was a pair of black trousers, one of the less ragged pairs he owned. For Pinky, a small, slender dress of fine pink silk laid a few inches away.  

"Change out of those wet clothes first," Hello Nurse advised. 

The armchair was made for humans, not rodents, though Buttons was thankfully the same height as the cushion, so it wasn’t difficult to transfer to an actual inanimate object. 

The Beast gripped the side of the armchair, placing his claws within the clawmarks he’d scored on the object when he became frustrated. 

Ripping away the destroyed remains of the cloak he’d worn during his fight with the wolf, he quickly donned the replacement and secured the collar’s golden clasp below his neck. But he didn’t bother with the pants. 

Maintaining some level of decorum, even with trousers that were too torn for even the best seamstress to repair, was absolutely necessary. 

Hello Nurse gave him a disapproving look, but he ignored it and sank in the back corner of the armchair instead. With his cloak surrounding him and his back pressed against into the corner, he felt more secure.

“Awww, this is a very pretty dress!” Pinky exclaimed, admiring the fine material that was ten times more expensive than whatever house he lived in as a commoner. “Thanks so much, Wakko!” 

Wakko grinned, his pendulum swinging faster at Pinky’s praise. Dot ribbed him playfully with her teacup handle. “Who knew you had an eye for fashion?” she teased. 

“Is it really okay for me to wear this?” Pinky asked. 

“Sure is! That color matches more with your name anyway,” Yakko said. “Unless you want us to start calling you Bluey. Color coordination’s a thing in fashion, right?”

“There’s hope for you after all, Yakko,” Dot said. Yakko held a candle to his chest in mock offense. 

Suddenly, Pinky shimmied out of the waterlogged commoner dress he’d worn since his arrival at the castle. 

And the Beast received a view of gleaming white fur on an exposed body. 

Lean, but with a fair bit of muscle. Slender. Beautiful. 

Desperate for something to do so he didn’t have to watch Pinky put on the dress, the Beast unwrapped the purple cloth around his lower arm, revealing four long scratches. Though the fur was stripped away and left the skin wide open, they weren’t deep. A trickle of blood leaked from one of the scratches, and without thinking, the Beast lapped it away with his tongue. 

It was neither sanitary nor dignified, but the Beast found himself tapping into instincts he usually fought to repress. To his horror, it was becoming more natural to lick his wounds like a creature of the wilderness. He was a prince in name only, no real power or respect behind the title. 

He lost himself in the rhythm for a while, only stopping when he felt something foreign on his arm. 

Pinky’s hand rested on his upper arm, just above his wound. 

Was he crazy? Why would any sane being touch royalty, or a monster, or him? 

Pinky wore the pink dress now, his long sleeves rolled up to the elbows. “You shouldn’t do that,” he said, bringing a wet cloth closer to the Beast’s arm. 

The Beast growled and stubbornly turned away from Pinky. Couldn’t this idiotic mouse just let him hang onto even an ounce of his pride? He held his arm out of reach, just so Pinky couldn’t have the satisfaction of getting it. 

It was Pinky’s fault he was injured in the first place. 

But Pinky wasn’t deterred, nearly falling onto the Beast as he reached up and tried to touch the cloth to the scratches. 

“Just hold still!” Pinky said, still not giving up even when the Beast moved his arm to avoid the cloth.

He could deal with this himself! What part of that did Pinky not understand? 

The brief tussle ended when Pinky finally managed to slap the cloth onto the Beast’s arm. Pain instantly shot through him, and he roared out of instinct and fury. 

“THAT HURTS!” he snarled in Pinky’s face.

“If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much!” Pinky retorted, his blue eyes piercing and intense with anger. 

It was strange. Pinky had cowered before him when they’d met face to face in the tower, and again when he’d been caught in the West Wing. 

But then, Pinky yelled back when he refused to dine with him. So it wasn’t completely out of the question. 

Regardless of what happened in the past, the Beast still needed to come out on top. After all, he was the Master around here. 

“If you hadn’t run away, this wouldn’t have happened.” The Beast allowed himself a smirk. 

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

“If you hadn’t frightened me, I wouldn’t have run away!” Though Pinky’s face was just inches away from the Beast’s fangs, he didn’t flinch. 

And just whose decision was it to break into the one area he’d forbidden? It was a generous rule when the rest of the grounds were open for exploration!

However, he couldn’t completely dismiss that while Pinky broke the rule, he didn’t deserve to be nearly killed twice over it. 

Regardless, he refused to let Pinky win this round. 

“You shouldn’t have been in the West Wing!” the Beast couldn’t resist leaning into Pinky’s space. Point made. It was over. 

“Well, you should learn to control your temper!” Pinky snapped. 

It was one thing to have living inanimate objects say it, many of whom had tempers themselves, but had never caused the destruction he’d dealt over the years.  

Never in his life had he heard an outsider say it. A peasant scolding royalty. A prisoner fighting their captor. A mouse challenging a beast. 

Impressive, but infuriating that he couldn’t refute how his temper caused this entire mess to begin with. 

The Warners tried and failed to stifle their laughter, and it was completely unfair that they were on Pinky’s side. The Beast huffed, placing a paw on his cheek as Pinky grabbed his injured arm again. Maybe it was childish, but he didn’t care. 

“Now hold still,” Pinky said. His voice was firm, but also gentle. “This might sting a little.” 

As promised, the wet cloth stung on his arm as Pinky gently ran it over the scratches. The Beast grimaced at the sting of the fabric, and though he succeeded in containing the roar that threatened to build, he couldn’t stop himself from growling at the pain. 

He had a brief moment of respite when Pinky changed the cloth he was using now that he was finished sponging the remaining blood away. The scratches were pink, raw, and painful, but they weren’t bleeding. 

Maybe he should be more cautious this time. Just so Hello Nurse wouldn’t give him grief over his carelessness causing an infection. Or Pinky for that matter. 

Pinky returned with a new cloth. The Beast tensed as Pinky reached for his arm again, not wanting to be touched even though he reminded himself that it was necessary in this situation. After being isolated with nobody but household objects for company, and even before then, when his so-called family shunted him off to a minor province because they didn’t want the evidence of an affair in their palace, physical contact was a concept that was foreign to him entirely. 

“By the way, thank you,” Pinky said, smiling gently at the Beast. “For saving my life.” 

A warmth blossomed in the Beast’s chest, a sensation he couldn’t identify. It was new, but pleasant. 

“You’re welcome,” the Beast replied. That was the proper response to gratitude, right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

But he tried to cooperate as Pinky carefully wrapped the wound with bandages, following Hello Nurse’s instructions to the letter. Pinky deserved that much, at least. 

Pinky didn’t try to cause any unnecessary pain. But worry clearly showed in his eyes when the Beast involuntarily growled and tensed up with each touch. 

“It’s not you,” the Beast grunted, and Pinky's shoulders relaxed. He didn’t want to put up with that strange look much longer. 

“That looks fine, Pinky,” Hello Nurse called as Pinky finished wrapping the bandage around the Beast’s arm. “You did a great job.”

Pinky stepped back and wiped his forehead in relief. 

“His arm looks like a mummy’s,” Wakko not-so-subtly whispered.  

Ignoring the comparison to dead Egyptian royalty, the Beast carefully lifted his arm. It didn’t hurt as much as before. 

Next to him, Pinky carefully picked up the scrap of purple cloth that once served as a crude bandage. The Beast had forgotten about it. But Pinky neatly folded the scrap, tucking the bloodied side inward. He held it close to his body, like it was a precious item. 

He felt an odd twinge of guilt for tossing it aside, though he wasn’t why Pinky was treating it like a valuable painting or fragile heirloom. Maybe peasants just saved every piece of fabric they could. 

Then Pinky yawned, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

The Warners were oddly subdued as well. 

It had been a long and eventful night for everyone, and despite the Beast's exhaustion, his mind was brimming with questions. 

Terrifying questions he didn't want to know the answers to. 

"Children, why don't you escort our guest to his room and go to bed?" Hello Nurse suggested. 

Yakko balked, crossing his candlesticks over his brass chest. "I'm a height-challenged candelabra, not a—Dot! Don't jump from there!" 

Wakko and Dot jumped from the table at the same time, both landing safely on a cushion. Dot pouted. “Oh, but it’s okay for Wakko to jump?” she muttered. 

“He’s not porcelain,” Yakko said as he joined his siblings on the floor. Buttons whined in sympathy.  

“For the last time, I’m not helpless!” Dot hopped out of the parlor, not bothering to wait for her brothers or Pinky.  

“I didn’t say you were! You’re just more prone to chipping easily!” Yakko shouted. He chased after her, only stopping at the doorway when he remembered he was supposed to be an escort. He glanced at Pinky and Wakko. “You coming?” 

“Narf. Okay, I’m coming,” Pinky said, gathering his waterlogged dress and fabric scrap. Carefully, he climbed down the armchair and joined Yakko. Then he turned to everyone in the room. “Thanks, Beast. Thanks, Buttons and Hello Nurse. Good night. Can’t wait to turn in myself.”  

“Good night, Pinky,” Hello Nurse replied. 

Buttons barked. 

Beast nodded awkwardly. He didn’t think Pinky would be wishing him a good night after all he’d done to him. 

Wakko said nothing and happily batted at Buttons’ tassels. 

“Eh, he’ll catch up,” Yakko said, leading Pinky away from the parlor. “We can drop your clothes into the laundry along the way, and we never finished your tour before the boss ran you out, did we? Now if you direct your attention to the flying buttresses over yonder…” 

His usual chatter faded away. 

Maybe someone else should’ve escorted them, just to make sure Yakko didn’t treat Pinky to a whole song and dance routine on Baroque architecture. 

“What do you think he’s gonna turn into?” Wakko asked. 

Poor choice of words, but the Beast reminded himself that it was just an innocent question and not curse related. 

“Hopefully, nothing,” the Beast sighed. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

“Go catch up with the others, Wakko,” Hello Nurse said. She opened her arms, and Wakko happily accepted the invitation to hug. They broke apart after a minute, then Wakko turned back to the Beast. 

“It’s okay,” Wakko said. “You’ll break the curse. I know you will.” 

And he scuttled out of the parlor, leaving the Beast before he could explain all the reasons why such innocent faith shouldn’t be placed on him. 

It was just the Beast, Hello Nurse, and Buttons now. And Buttons wasn’t much of a conversationalist. 

“He shouldn’t say those things,” the Beast quietly said, his claws digging into the cushion. 

It was nigh-impossible to break Wakko’s hope, even though plan after plan of breaking the curse failed. Hope was such a terrible burden to bear. 

Hello Nurse met his gaze coolly. “Hope does exist, whether you deny it or not. Pinky gave you a second chance. Maybe it’s time to use the original condition that was laid out for you from the beginning.”  

Love someone and make them love a monster in return. Yes, that made complete sense. 

“You caused a lot of pain, and not just to Pinky,” Hello Nurse said. The Beast wanted to argue that Pinky was recklessly defiant, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that Pinky only wanted to save his father. That Pinky only broke his promise because he feared for his life. That his servants shouldn’t have to suffer for his mistakes. “But he saved you. And we’re grateful that he did.”

Right. Because he was the only one who could break the curse. 

He didn’t deserve a second chance. Hello Nurse wasn’t forthcoming with a satisfactory answer as to why he was given one. 

“I haven’t learned my lesson. That’s not possible. I can’t just...change,” the Beast said. 

He’d been stuck in the same routine of planning and failing for too long. It wasn’t an option. 

“You’d be surprised.” 

With that final statement, Hello Nurse signaled for Buttons to help her out of the parlor and push her to Dr. Scratchy’s room. He was always woefully behind on any developments, mostly because the Warners couldn’t leave him alone long enough for anyone to deliver news. 

But more importantly, if it was possible for someone like him to change, then all he had to do was...try? 

Try to break the curse. Try to reclaim the throne. Always trying, never succeeding. 

Pinky had given him another chance though. Another opportunity. 

And Hello Nurse made sure he knew it. 

“Buttons, stop!” the Beast shouted. It came out harsher than he intended. 

Startled, Buttons stopped pushing Hello Nurse, who simply turned her metallic body as best she could with a harp stuck on her back. 

“I...wanted to thank you both. That’s all. Now leave,” the Beast hastily said. 

Buttons and Hello Nurse just stared at him, and the Beast growled. They didn’t have to act that bewildered about it. 

“Good night,” Hello Nurse smiled once she finally recovered. 

Then they were gone. 

Alone in the parlor, the Beast settled into a comfortable position that wouldn’t aggravate his injury. He touched the bandages on his arm, remembering Pinky’s gentle touch. 

The fireplace burned as he pondered an endless amount of questions, searching for answers that would never come. 

End AN: I'm sorry for excluding everyone's favorite squirrels from the castle staff. Personally, I can't picture Slappy living in a castle. She's perfectly content in her tree with her nephew. I did have an early idea for her and Skippy being transformed into nutcrackers though. They might show up elsewhere though.

Hello Nurse (or a lookalike of her) as a harp was taken from the OG Animaniacs segment The Warners and the Beanstalk, so that's where I pulled her transformed state from. Originally, Rita was going to be a harp, but I decided to change her to a Christmas ornament as a reference to her VA, Bernadette Peters, voicing the Christmas ornament Angelique in BatB Enchanted Christmas.

I imagine the Goodfeathers to look similar to Plumette’s birdlike design in the 2017 live-action, but less graceful and more pigeon-y.

Brain logic: Oh no Pinky is beautiful what’s a logical course of action? Lick my arm? Yes, licking my arm is a good distraction.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Here’s a silly little thing I did on request for @crunadh for the prompt “Healing”. What if love has actually healing powers – or at least Geralt believes it does?

2.183 words, Rated T, read under the cut or on AO3

"Oh. Oh! Yeah, right there. Go ahead, uh... don't stop... a little harder..."

"You're embarrassing," Emhyr muttered, but he actually didn't stop. His hands vigorously kneaded Geralt's back, and the latter's muscles responded to it like butter to sunshine.

"The word you're looking for is enthusiastic," Geralt replied with a groan. "Who knew you were so good at it? You're a natural. Oh, yeah, right there!"

"We have servants for that sort of thing," Emhyr returned.

But he still didn't stop. His fingers squeezed with just the proper hardness to relieve all the tension his spouse had gotten after his training. The same had probably been right by stating that even a horse needed regular exercise and that he needed to resume it. The comparison seemed somehow indecent to Emhyr, but in the end, it was probably apt – a witcher without exercise was useless, and if he had to compare it to anything, it was perhaps to a well-trained soldier, whose skills would rust without regular training. Oh, all these comparisons were useless because in front of him on the bed, completely naked and with tangled hair, lay his husband, and he knew exactly what this sight did to him.

"That's right," smirked the latter now. "But you like it. You like it so much that you..."

He uttered the last words in Nilfgaardian, another thing he had begun to practice again lately. This earned him a hearty slap on the backside.

"Your pronunciation of arse leaves much to be desired."

"Maybe so, but you have healing hands," Geralt growled delightedly underneath him. "You will find..."

He suddenly fell silent. Emhyr, who had noticed that even Geralt's buttocks were tense and had begun to loosen them with a vigorous kneading, asked irritably, "What?"

Deft as a snake, Geralt wriggled around under Emhyr's dexterous hands, accidentally presenting a first success of the latter's efforts.

"You know," he said, unusually serious, "you actually have the ability to make me feel better when you touch me."

Emhyr snorted. If there was one thing Geralt was not, it was romantic; and he had not for a moment supposed that this desire for a post-exercise massage had any meaning other than a new form of foreplay that his witcher loved so passionately.

"It's true," Geralt protested, "healing hands."

"Oh, really?"

Emhyr thought this was nothing more than a strange but somehow cute form of dirty talking, and wordlessly he brushed off his dressing gown.

Geralt's eyes lit up on his reply, "Let me show you what these hands can heal."

                                                        -:¦:-

A few days later, their breakfast was graced by Ciri's presence, who was now back in the palace more often and had begun to take a renewed interest in her future duties. Her morning greeting faltered when she noticed Emhyr's left hand resting on one of Geralt's thighs.

"I beseech you, at breakfast? You can't keep pulling the young married couple card all the time."

Geralt merely grinned, but Emhyr, on whose stoic countenance her insolence bounced that morning, calmly brought the teacup to his mouth and took a sip before answering.

"The leg is aching," he simply replied, and Ciri's expression became compassionate.

The effects of multiple fractures and magical healing were more noticeable some days than others, she knew this, and so Ciri asked with interest, "And that helps?"

"Sometimes," Geralt said. Then he grinned again. "I've told your father before that he has healing hands, but he won't hear of it."

Ciri screwed up her face as if he had made a dirty joke, but then she suddenly mused, "You know, there might even be something to it. I once read about how lovers can actually develop healing abilities when they interact with each other."

"That's nonsense," said Triss, who had just entered the room.

"Well, in this case, I guess you can talk about relief as a priority, but what if there's something to it? Love can release endorphins..."

"Healing is due to the body's own substances, which can be triggered with magic, but certainly not by love," Triss said, and thereupon a somewhat heated discussion broke out between the two, which soon encompassed utterly different topics.

                                                   -:¦:-

The matter was forgotten for a while as everyday life had a grip on them, but like flashlights, it brought itself back to mind repeatedly. Such as when Emhyr – which, given his idiosyncrasy of often poring over papers in an uncomfortable pose until late at night occurred not so rarely – experienced a headache. Geralt, who had already tried in vain hours ago to lure him away from this work to get some rest, had put his hands on his husband's cramped shoulders, pressed a kiss on the back of his head, and looked over his shoulders.

"That can wait until tomorrow," he said firmly.

And Emhyr, quite contrary to his habits of not being distracted from a task, had actually put down the quill, laid back his head, and let his spouse handle his shoulders. Geralt had to think of the countless times Emhyr's presence, his touch, the mere feeling of his hands in his had given him a sense of relief.

"There is something to it after all," he said thoughtfully.

"Hmm?"

"Healing hands," Geralt replied, "What if that really works? On both sides?"

"Don't be silly. There's nothing healing about it. Your fingers just happen to rest on neuralgic points and cut off the pain supply, that's science, Geralt."

Despite the pretentious tone, Geralt had heard exactly the essential point from these words. He leaned over, nuzzled his cheek against Emhyr's, and whispered, "That means you don't have a headache anymore?"

Emhyr looked at him in surprise but had to silently admit that this was true. And he, too, remembered countless occasions when it had been this way – Geralt had a talent for making a difference with a single touch, and no doubt it was the same the other way around. It was intuitive, something neither of them had ever consciously thought about. The soothing effect of a hand, even fleetingly placed on tense muscles. Fingers intertwined, untangling strained thoughts. A firm stroke over the back after a nightmare. The gentle touch on temples that were taut from endless brooding. As Geralt had said: the ability to make the other person feel better just by touching them. He had to admit that there was indeed something curative about it.

                                                       -:¦:-

The implications of these findings, if taken seriously, were remarkable. They both mulled over these considerations without actually talking about it, and almost unconsciously, the mutual touching increased. If the reason they were doing each other well with this was their mutual affection, it only seemed to strengthen it. In other words, Geralt and Emhyr could not keep their hands off each other. As if to regularly reassure themselves that their touches had the desired effect, they touched each other more and more frequently. It was undoubtedly an exciting boost for their love life, which had never suffered from too little attention, but now reached unexpected new heights. It almost seemed as if they wanted to combine true love's kiss with true love's touch, but if they were enchanted, this spell could not be broken.

Although they had rarely hidden their affection, it seemed even more apparent now, and they were seen holding hands in the palace more often than before. It seemed to lift the general mood. As far as Emhyr was concerned, it would have been an exaggeration to say that he displayed certain contentment. But overall, everything seemed as bright and rosy as it should be for newlyweds.

Nevertheless, everyday difficulties had not disappeared, as became apparent one day when Ciri accompanied a limping and cursing Geralt to the infirmary set up by Triss. They had been hunting together – a concession they had both wrested from Emhyr, for Ciri, too, needed a balance to the duties she had, after all, voluntarily accepted. It quickly became clear that this balance could not be found in the ever languishing Movran Voorhis, which had led to some disagreements and the latter's near resignation. After those waters were smoothed, Emhyr had agreed, to the astonishment of both Ciri and Geralt, that she could occasionally accompany him when he took on a contract – nothing too dangerous, nonetheless.

This time, something had gone wrong, and it was only thanks to Ciri's quick intervention that Geralt escaped with a dislocated kneecap and a broken arm, while she herself only suffered a few scrapes. As always, Emhyr had been notified immediately, and he watched the treatment of his court sorceress with a wary eye, holding Geralt's hand.

Ciri, observing that Geralt apparently used the touch to nearly break his spouse's hand between a string of juicy curses, which the latter stoically accepted, said at one point in surprise, "Say, you two, you didn't really take that seriously, did you?"

"What?"

"Me, rambling on about the healing power of love the other day. I was just teasing you, but apparently, I started a little something..."

Triss, who had just conjured up a magical ointment for the re-set kneecap with flowing hand movements, looked up at Ciri and replied, "Well, I for one took it seriously."

As all eyes turned to her, the sorceress could not prevent a certain blush from shooting into her cheeks.

"What? It's not so far off, even though I was skeptical at first. So if you were just making it up, Ciri, you were amazingly clairvoyant. Love may release hormones that can relieve pain, among other things – so, for instance, with a touch."

To everyone's surprise, Geralt started laughing, and even Emhyr showed a slight smile.

"It's clear you were messing with us," Geralt said to Ciri. "However, I have to admit; there was something rather stimulating about the idea..."

"Oh please, don't elaborate," Ciri moaned with a disgusted expression. "If I had known that you would become the purest lovebirds after this…"

"I guess you fell into your own trap there, girl," Emhyr opined. "When apparently it can be scientifically proven that there is some truth to your love theory."

"I didn't say anything about it being scientific," Triss interjected. "There are only a few writings by physicians on this."

"Doctors aren't scientific enough for the sorceress, that's it," Geralt sneered but quickly regretted it when she turned to treat his arm.

"We can test out which one you prefer," she replied calmly. "Traditional splinting of the bone as done by barber-surgeons, often with little accuracy, wraps of dubious hygiene and at most weekly dressing changes, as recommended in the now obsolete but still used publication Osseous Therapeuticus. In the meantime, you can try a lot of loving affection; it allegedly promotes the healing process and, in some cases, shortens it. However, some report that the pain is a bit detrimental to libido. Or we might do it my way. That hurts, too, but instead of hoping for a dubious result for about two months, you can move your arm again without any problems in a week. I still recommend holding hands with the other arm, though. "

The others stared at her, speechless, until Geralt, feeling quite powerless at the moment, finally inquired, "You made that book up, didn't you?"

Emhyr, on the other hand, stated, "In this case, I trust entirely in the healing abilities of truly competent hands," which, of course, settled the matter.

                                                      -:¦:-

That evening, however, when they were alone, and it was up to him to take care of his spouse, which essentially consisted of making him comfortable, Geralt couldn't help but remark, "And I still think there's something to it."

"Well," Emyhr commented rather dryly, "it's obviously some dubious science, but this thing about releasing hormones..."

"Not that," Geralt interrupted him. "It's only logical; you can find some writings about it at Kaer Morhen, though these days they might not be considered particularly ethical. Still, I think the idea that true love can heal..."

"That wasn't what Ciri was implying," Emhyr interrupted him, frowning. "Hold on. You knew about this hormone thing and all that all along? But you tried to make me believe in the power of love?"

Geralt made a somewhat embarrassed impression. Emhyr raised his brows – which, depending on his mood, could mean anything from mockery to skepticism to blatant rejection. This time, however, it was something else.

"I would consider that a touch of romance; however, I suspect you had some baser instincts."

With one arm in a sling, Geralt's shrug turned out a bit awkward.

"Well, it worked," he returned. "You were very affectionate lately."

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard lately," Emhyr blurted. "You don't think there would have been any other way to achieve this.... aim?"

"Oh yes, certainly," Geralt admitted bluntly. "But it was more fun that way. And healing it was in any case."

"You're such an idiot," Emhyr muttered, shaking his head. "Why do you think it was healing?"

Geralt grinned, and Emhyr instantly regretted his question.

"Sexual healing."

[cheryyori]

Red Thread - P. SH AU

pairing(s): seonghwa/oc

genre: social media au, fluff, angst, strangers to lovers au, college au, fantasty elements, past life/ reincarnation au, fated lovers au, playboy!seonghwa, hwa is a bit of a dick at first, sumi is still a nervous baby like in the sk8terboy au, lots of pinning on hwa’s end later on bc i’m soft

summary: Park Seonghwa—business major, son of the CEO to Park Corp. and an overall cold-hearted playboy dickhead—has to help his father’s company by finding a new graphic designer, after firing the last one, for the company’s upcoming project he’s tasked to work on in order prepare him for the future (and maybe highkey work on his people skills). So when Yeosang mentions a particular graphic design student in mind, he wasn’t expecting his world to turn upside down by a red thread.

word count: 3.1K

MASTERLIST | MOODBOARD & PLAYLIST

06. it’s just stress << | >>

To say that there was a tense and awkward air lingering around in the cafe was an understatement. Some could feel the air become suffocating as two individuals sat in the corner of the cafe. Sumire was shaking in her seat, making sure to busy herself with her phone as she eyes staring at her. 

Why, why, why, why?! She screamed internally as she wanted to repeatedly bang her head against the table. Why him?! She cried. Meanwhile, Seonghwa sat directly across from her, eyes staring at her in deep thought.

He was...confused, least to say. No once did he thought the cute girl that bumped into him yesterday would be the very same girl to help him with his dilemma. His eyes watched as she remained quiet, using her phone to distract herself and avoided any direct contact with him, her form closed off as she tried to make herself smaller by keeping to herself. 

Somehow it tugged at his chest to see her like this, a frown on his face at the thought that he was the one that made her felt like this. Then again, as he had been told many times before, he was him.

Although it made him even more confused as he had these thoughts, why did he felt like this towards someone he just met only now, he asked himself. A sigh escaped from his lips as he decided to push those thoughts away.

“We should get started,” he suddenly spoke up, clearing his throat as he ignored the nervous flutters in his stomach.

“R-right!” She squeaked, her back sitting up straight, “Um...” she paused, a small frown on her lips. He glanced back up, seeing her twiddle with her finger nervously.

“Yes...?” 

“Uh,” she paused once more sway side to side in her seat. Cute, he thinks again as a rosy hue was seen on her cheeks almost prompting him to reach out and pinch them before he realize the thought that crossed his mind and stomped them out.

“What?” He sighed out, although he winced as he saw her lips quivering.

“S-sorry, it’s just...I don’t know your name...” she muttered. Seonghwa sat up straight, wide eyes staring at her. Did she really not know who he was?

“...did Yeosang not tell you who I am?” He asked. For a second, he thought she was acting like this because of his many reputations around the campus.

“He only told me that you’re an acquaintance of his and that even though you can come off as...” she paused, trying to find the right words without repeating the exact words Yeosang used to describe him, “...that you can come off as aloof and intimidating, that there’s more to you than that...I’m just saying what he told me but nicer,” she confessed.

“...I see,” he mutters, “So he never once told you my name?” She shook her head in response, he carefully noticed that her nervous state was slowly diminishing as they continued to talk, her shoulders were still stiff but at least she wasn’t mumbling and stuttering like before.

“No, just...a lot of bad comments...” she shrugged. Seonghwa frowned, of course Yeosang would talk badly about him behind his back though he was amused by her honesty at least.

“Of course he would,” he clicked his tongue, “Well since he didn’t tell you...” he trails off, “It’s Seonghwa,” he said. 

“Oh,” she uttered, “Seonghwa,” she repeated slowly, her voice was soft as the fluttering feeling in his stomach erupted in his chest, “That’s a nice name,” she said, a small smile on her lips. He felt breathless as she smiled, even if it was small. He opens his mouth to speak when he hears a faint voice near his ear.

“I like it a lot. It fits you very much.”

He snaps his head, glancing around for a second. Sumire tilts her head, as she watched him glanced around suddenly, “Are you alright?” She asked. Seonghwa glanced back at her, seeing her staring back at him with confused eyes.

“No, it’s just...did you say something just now?” He asked. She scrunched her brows together, only becoming more confused.

"No, why?" She asked. He paused, furrowing his brows together before shaking his head.

"I thought I...” he paused, shaking his head, “No, never mind that," he sighed, "We should start working on the design now," he says. Sumire was still confused, but nodded her head as he pulled out some designs. Her eyes sparkled with interest as he laid them across the table.

“Oh, these are...?” She stared at them, grasping out for the one in his hand, their fingers brushed against one another. A sharp intake escaped from his lips as he felt a shock, causing him to suddenly jerk his hand away from her. She stared at him with wide eyes, her hands retracted as they were placed firmly in her lap, “O-oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t reached out like that so suddenly,” she said.

“No, it wasn’t that,” he said, “it’s just...you didn’t feel that shock just now?” He asked, his eyes carefully watching as she tilted her head at him.

“Shock? What shock?” She asked, sound more confused than before. Seonghwa frowned, wonder if it was all in his head. Perhaps the sudden stress of this whole situation was slowly staring to get him, though something in the back of his head told him otherwise.

“Forget it,” he says, “Anyways, these were some designs my...last partner made before leaving,” he says delicately. When he hands her the design, he noticed the corners of her lips twitch and brows furrowed together. After a minutes, she placed them down and stared back at him.

“Um,” she shifted nervously. He knew she wanted to say something, but held back her tongue as if she was afraid to set him off. He sighed, leaning his chin under one hand.

“Something you want to say?” He asked, raising one brow at her. She fidgeted nervously in response.

“Can I be blunt?” She asked in a small voice.

“By all means,” he replied, curious on what her answer would be.

“Well...no offense to your last partner...but these are pretty ugly...” she states. He felt his lips twitch into a small smile at her sudden declaration, “I-er-well,” she stuttered feeling her cheeks redden, “The colors don’t correlate well with one another either,” she added.

He hums, watching as she continued to nitpick at the design before speaking up, “I guess it is pretty ugly,” He agreed, making her cheeks even more flushed, “At least I wasn’t the only one that thought it was too,” he said giving her a small smile.

Sumire felt her heart heavy and cheeks burning as she pressed her hands against them, “Y-yeah,” she said letting out a small laugh. He fought the urge to smile as she glanced away nervously. He thought it was cute how nervous she seemed, how she fumbled with her fingers and bit on her bottom lips.

“I suppose we should get started on this right?” He said as he started to explain the original idea for the designs to her. She nodded her head the whole time, taking out a small sketchbook as she started making small thumbnail sketches that fit the description given to her. 

Once she was done, she would show him the sketches in hopes they fitted the original goal the company had in mind. And Seonghwa had to admit, they were much better than the original designer he worked with before that he had a bit of a struggle deciding which one was better before giving his input and opinions.

He watched as she concentrated on more sketches to improve on, her brows furrowed together as she tapped her fingers against the table to pause and think of more ideas. It was nice, relishing in the peaceful silence between the two, Sumire had been too focused that she didn’t noticed how he had been staring at her from behind his laptop.

A strand of hair fell out of place as she stared down at her sketches, without realizing his hand was already outstretched to place to lose strand back in its place when the door to the entrance slammed open.

“SUMIRE! I’M HERE! DON’T CRY ANYMORE!” A voice yelled, making the two jump in their seats. Sumire turned her head to see Rentaro by the front entrance, a bag in hand as a small furry tail poked out of it.

I’m going to kill him! She thought as she pressed her hands to her face. Seonghwa glanced over at the boy that came in and then toward her, noticing her expression. She sighs as Rentaro made his way over and pulled a chair next to her before plopping down in his seat.

“Uh...” He paused, glancing between her and Seonghwa, “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.” Both Sumire and Seonghwa said at once.

“O-okay?” Rentaro paused as he shifted nervously in his seat, before leaning close to Sumire, “I brought Iroha by the way,” he said as he opened his bag to reveal the small kitten.

She merely sighed before noticing Seonghwa staring at them, more so Ren in particular. A frown was seen on his face as Ren shifted nervously under Seonghwa’s gaze.

“Someone you know?” He asked, raising a brow at her.

“Yes, unfortunately,” she replied, she grabbed Ren by the ear and pulled him close, “What are you doing here?!” She hissed.

“I was bringing Iroha, remember? You know! Cuddles, because I thought you were going to have a nervous breakdown and cry?!” He answered, pulling away as he rubbed his ears.

“Well you can go now, don’t you have to come back later tonight for your performance?” She said. He merely shrugged, brushing her off.

“It’s fine, as a musician, I already have everything prepared, I’ll just have Yusung bring everything here then,” he added. Seonghwa’s ears perked up at their conversation.

“A musician?” He hummed, “That doesn’t mean much,” he says. Sumire sucked the air between her teeth, watching as Ren stiffened and frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  He asked, an annoyed look on his face as he stared at Seonghwa.

“Nothing, don’t mind me,” he said with a shrug as he went back to staring at some random documents, “Though, I’m curious on what your relationship is to one another,” he said eyes moving from Sumire then to Ren. 

He thought it was childish of him to engage in bitter feelings he felt towards this boy, especially over feelings he didn’t understand why he felt like this all of a sudden.

“Oh, Rentaro is my roommate-”

“Uh, I’m her boyfriend!” He blurted out suddenly. Sumire almost choked on air and stared at him with wide eyes. Seonghwa felt his fingers twitch suddenly in response, fingers crumpling the edges of the documents in hand.

“My what?!” She hissed, slapping his thigh in response as he winced. Ren kept his lips shut, not wanting to tell her that he wanted to tease her, but also he wanted to see how Seonghwa would react.

“You’re her boy...friend?” Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at him, a slight prick in his chest made him feel uncomfortable as the boy moved closer to her, one arm wrapped around her tiny frame. Irritation was the first thing he felt.

“No!” “Yes!” The two glanced at one another, eyes wide at one another’s answers.

“Yes?” Sumire asked, narrowing her eyes at Ren.

“No?” He echoed back, giving her a wide eye expression, one filled with mock hurt. She brushed him off knowing that he was messing around and glanced back at Seonghwa, who had been watching the two carefully.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Sumire insisted with a flustered face.

“I’m her boyfriend,” Ren started again, earning a harsh elbow to the side as Sumire turned towards him, giving the boy a nasty glare. He immediately shrunk back, “Kidding,” he said with a nervous smile, “I’m her roommate actually.”

Somehow, hearing that didn’t make Seonghwa feel better (though he wonders why he felt relieved when the boy admitted he wasn’t her boyfriend). The only thing he could do was sit back in his seat and let out a hum. A soft mew could be heard from Rentaro’s bag, gaining Sumire’s attention before Iroha poke her tiny head out.

“Oh, Iro,” Sumire crooned as she picked up the tiny kitten. She was thankful that Aurora was pet friendly and allowed pets inside as long as they behaved. Seonghwa watched as she coddled the kitten in her arms, a small pout on her lips as she kissed the top of the kitten’s head.

Cute, he thinks. Ren didn’t miss the way Seonghwa’s eyes softened as Sumire coddled with Iroha and had a thought.

Oh, Ren thinks before turning back to Seonghwa. 

“So,” Ren started, “Are you two friends?” He asked, eyeing between the two curiously. Seonghwa snapped out of his stupor and cleared his throat as he looked back at his papers.

“No,” Seonghwa sat up straight, eyes back on his papers in an attempt to focus his attention off of the girl before him.

“Oh,” Ren’s eyes widened slightly, “Is this a date?” He asked in a low voice, “If it is, I’m so sorry-”

“No!” Seonghwa snapped, his cheeks suddenly flushed at his suggestion, “We’re just working on a project together,” he said, straightening himself. His eyes went over to Sumire, watching as she was too busy playing with the kitten.

“Huh,” Ren paused as he saw how the other had a stiff posture, his eyes going back to the papers in hand, attempting to make them less crumpled as they were before.

Seonghwa felt slightly uncomfortable as he felt Ren was staring at him before clearing his throat, “Maybe we should end it here for today.”

Sumire glanced up, “Oh? Are you sure?” She asked, tilting her head slightly. He felt a slightly jolt in his chest and cheeks suddenly burning as she stared at him with wide eyes. He cleared his throat once again.

“Yes,” he said, “I have other things to do later on, plus we have been here for some time,” he notes at the time. Sumire pulled her phone, noticing the many messages from the group chat and that a few hours had passed. She wonders how did that happen.

“Oh,” she says, “I-I guess I didn’t notice,” she mutters before gathering her things, moving anything important out of Iroha’s grasp as the kitten stood on her lap and attempted to climb on the table. A soft mew was heard as Iroha moved towards Seonghwa.

His eyes glanced down at the kitten, seeing how they were staring up at him. He suddenly felt nervous as the kitten stared up at him with wide eyes, as if begging him to pet her. Hesitantly, he reached out and petted the small feline.

The soft purring Iroha let out made him relax as he smiled. As soon as Sumire was done gathering her things, she noticed Seonghwa petting Iroha, “Oh, she likes you,” she smiled as she petted Iroha’s back, not noticing how his finger stifled as they brushed against his.

“She’s...cute...” he said slowly, his eyes glancing back at her as he said that. She smiled before cooing at Iroha.

“She is, isn’t she,” she agreed, a sparkle was seen in her eyes as she continued to coo at the small kitten. Seonghwa smiled once again, his eyes lingering on Sumire before she picked up the kitten.

“Um,” he started, clearing his throat once again, “I’ll text you on when we can work on the project again,” he said. Sumire nodded and settled Iroha in her arms.

“Oh, alright then,” she said, for once she felt fully relaxed since upon entering the cafe. Maybe it was because Iroha was here in her arms, or maybe it might be that Seonghwa wasn’t as bad as she initially thought.

“I guess we’ll be taking our leave now,” Ren suddenly spoke up, reminding the two that they weren’t alone. Seonghwa frowned as Ren took her hand in his before leading her towards the entrance.

She glanced over her shoulder, a small smile on her lips as she waved back at him. Seonghwa felt his heart stutter as he hesitantly waved back, ignoring how there was a prang in his heart again as she left through the door.

As soon as she was gone, he sat back in his seat as his hands ran through his hair, “What the fuck just happened?” He asked himself as he felt his hands clammy and his cheeks hot. As he was deep in his thoughts, he heard a chair pull up.

“So?” Seonghwa glanced up to see Hongjoong staring at him with a grin.

“What?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the cafe owner. Hongjoong only shrugged, that stupid grin still on his lips.

“Nothing, just wondering if you enjoyed it,” he said with a wink. Seonghwa only grunted in response, slowly feeling annoyed by the other.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he glanced over at his laptop.

“Oh, really?” Hongjoong said, “So you’re telling me you didn’t try to reach out and fix her hair before her friend came?” 

Seonghwa slammed his fist against the table, his cheeks now red as he stared at Hongjoong, “Y-you saw that?!” He stuttered, making Hongjoong chuckle.

“You’re not as slick as you think you were,” he said, “I think you’re losing your touch against her,” he continued, “Hell even Jongho saw how hopeless you were being!”

Upon mentioning the youngest, the two turned towards Jongho who immediately looked away from his post behind the register, whistling as he did. Seonghwa huffed, running his hand through his hair again.

“Look, nothing happened, we were just working on the project and then her friend decided to show up,” he answered. There was no way he’ll tell Hongjoong the odd palpitation of his heart he felt whenever he saw her shift nervously in her seat. 

“Uh huh, sure,” Hongjoong grinned, “Whatever you say lover boy!”

“Shut up!” He grumbled, his eyes glancing to the side as he noticed a red thread in the corner, one end slowly floating down toward the ground next to him. His eyes followed as the thread extended out and saw it lead towards the entrance and outwards.

What the...?

“Seonghwa?” His eyes snapped back to Hongjoong, who seemed to have been trying to grab his attention just now. Seonghwa glanced back to where he saw the thread, only to find it gone. “Hey, are you alright?” Hongjoong asked, noticing how spaced out he was acting.

“Uh...” Seonghwa paused, before shaking his head. It’s just stress, he tells himself once more. “Nothing, just...nothing.”

“You sure, you seemed off just now,” Hongjoong said, giving the older a slightly concerned look. 

Seonghwa wasn’t sure what to say, his mind was already filled many thoughts of his own. “I’m fine, Hongjoong, thank you for your concern,” he told him.

It was all stress, he told himself, that had to be it. 

[julemmaes]

You marry me, Alas

"Stop eating all my popcorn, they're for the tree" AU

Thomas Lightwood and Alastair Carstairs Fluff Christmas Holiday AU

Okay I kept on writing because apparently it is fun, and I did a little something for my boo @tyherondaletrash who deserves the world and all the love we can give her. And tomorrow is Monday, so it’ll be a shitty shitty day for her (not for me, schools are closed;)) and I hope I can improve her mood a little.

Just gonna tell you that there’s a little angst, a lot of fluff and SHIT TON of sex references, but nothing too serious, hope you’ll enjoy it

Word count: 2,364

Thomas poured the last pan of popcorn into the biggest bowl and picked up the few who had fallen on the island before eating them. He left everything in the kitchen as he went up the stairs of their new house to go get a needle and thread.

Alastair would never agree to do such a thing, he would probably complain all the time about the grease on his hands or the fact that “food should be eaten, not used to make stupid necklaces”, but Tom really wanted to get him into the Christmas spirit. Because that would be the first Christmas they spent with their families and especially the first Christmas since Alastair and Cordelia’s father got out of rehab.

Thomas had found out from James. One afternoon, when only the two of them had gone out to make gifts to the others, out of nowhere he had asked how Alastair was taking it. Thomas had looked at him frowning, because he didn’t understand what he was talking about, and when James told him that their father was going back to London after all those months out of town, the sky fell down on him. Not because he was upset.

He had mostly panicked and text-bombing his boyfriend, who, busy with a business meeting, had not replied right away. And then Thomas had called him. Fifteen times. And when Alastair came out of the meeting he thought the other was dead. He had called back immediately and was slightly angry when Thomas told him to go home because they needed to talk. He tried to imply that he knew about Elias, but Alastair seemed too focused on the fact that he called him so many times, and so he had to be the one with the issue that needed resolving.

Tom sighed, remembering how he had had to pull every word out of Alas' lips, which eventually gave away and began to cry. He had rarely seen his boyfriend cry, but he had never felt so much hatred and anger in his sobs. It was difficult to feel affection for his beloved’s father at that time. A father who had taken away his childhood and forced him to protect his sister’s.

He found the needle in the drawer of his bedside table and took one of the little balls of white thread that Alastair kept in his drawer (for when the buttons fell from his shirts), and went down to the first floor again. He returned to the kitchen, and did not immediately notice that his boyfriend was sitting on the counter swinging his feet and eating his popcorn… his popcorn!

“Hey! I was eating those!”Alastair shouted when Thomas tore the bowl from his hands.

“Make them yourself, if you are hungry! These go on the tree. And you will help me.” he said, sulking like a child, holding the popcorn in his chest. Alastair shook his head sighing and, making a small leap to get off the island, gave his assent.

They went into the living room and sat on the carpet next to the tree. A tree that had been bought almost a week earlier and still didn’t have a single ball on it. This was due to the fact that since Alastair’s holidays had started, there hadn’t been a minute when the two of them hadn’t rolled around in bed.

Sometimes it was annoying to stay apart all day and then be too tired to do any other activity but sleeping, so as soon as the chance to spend some time together for their own business had presented itself, they had not been able to resist and had locked themselves in the house for a week, receiving complaints from Lucie and Christopher, who wanted to go out with them, but they both had repeatedly refused to make the famous double dates she loved so much and shut the door in front of a very confused Kit.

“So? How do we do these things?” asked Alastair by taking a popcorn and throwing it in his mouth.

“Certainly not like that.” muttered Thomas, taking two meters of thread for him and two for the other boy and starting to stick it in his needle, “First put the thread in the needle and then stab the popcorn, like this.” He showed it to him and continued undisturbed until a sound of frustration escaped Alastair’s control and Tom was forced to interrupt his work. Looking up, Thomas never thought he’d find himself in front of an Alastair red of rage with a twisted thread around his fingers, desperately trying not to prick himself again.

“How the fuck do you put something so big inside something so small?! It’s impossible.” Alastair’s hands were shaking from how focused he was, and that didn’t help with his task.

Thomas' eyebrows shot up and, refraining from laughing, he placed his necklace on the ground, gently taking his boyfriend’s hands into his own, stopping that tremendous trembling, “I don’t think you should make another joke like that, or I’ll be forced to leave this tree naked another day to show you how it’s done,” he whispered to him with a wink. Thomas heard him mutter something about being naked and that as far as he was concerned that tree could also burn in the fireplace. “Here.” passed the needle with the already threaded thread, “you have to hold it from here otherwise it slips out.” Alastair thanked him before he took a handful of popcorn and took it to his mouth. Thomas refrained from snorting and began his work once more. He still felt that the other was confabulating and a quick glance made him realize that he would never accomplish anything.

Not even five minutes passed before Alastair stood up and started yelling at the popcorn, which kept breaking and falling off. He stomped his feet on the ground like a child and at that point Thomas could not hold back any longer, bursting into a loud laugh, with his head pulled back.

Alastair took that laugh as an invitation to do something else and on his way to their room, took all the presents he hadn’t wrapped yet, wrapping paper and tape, before he sat down next to his boyfriend. He stared at the books he had bought for Cordelia for a whole minute before taking a deep breath and really started working.

Meanwhile Thomas seemed to have finished his first necklace and was starting the one he had abandoned. Alastair took the wrapping paper and began to rip it in half, so that he had enough for every book, but of course something had to go wrong and a sharp pain took over his finger. He looked at his hand and two drops of blood came out of his thumb, “For fuck’s sake.”

Thomas, intrigued by his boyfriend’s swearing, turned to him, giggling, “I agree. Today is not your day.” he told him, nibbling a popcorn, “Do you want me to go get you a Band-Aid? At least you won’t stain the books.” he proposed with a shy smile.

Alastair turned to him, to that boy he loved so much that sometimes he wondered how it was possible that everything was real. That Thomas was really his. That he could finally be happy, too, if he had someone like Tom by his side.

“Don’t worry, I can go by myself.” he bent down on the other, brushing his lips with his own, but the other took him by the neck of the shirt pulling him down towards him and the kiss became more intense. Alastair lost his balance, ending up on Thomas, that by now was lying on his back, his hands going up under the other’s shirt.

They split just to catch their breath, and when Alastair finally broke off, Thomas gave a grunt of discomfort at the lack of contact, “We said no sex today. And no sex will be.”

“That was a stupid fucking rule, then.” Thomas said, raising his hips against Alastair’s, making him feel how even that little contact between them made him feel. Alastair closed his eyes leaning his forehead against that of the other, laying a last little kiss on his lips. He stood up, resting on his arms and then helped Thomas, lending him a hand.

“Are you sure you want to go to the bathroom? Isn’t it that with your bad luck, you come in and the patches are gone?” Thomas joked on the way to the kitchen to get a drink. Alastair saw from the croner of his eye that he was adjusting his trouser and could not stop his mind when he thought “Stupid rule, indeed”, but they had to finish decorating the house, tomorrow would be Christmas Eve and all their friends and families would come here. Explaining to his mother that you hadn’t decorated anything because you were too busy fucking didn’t seem like a tempting thing to do.

“No you’re actually right. Could you take it fom me?” He took his finger between his lips and sucked it. At least there was no more blood.

“That shitty rule is ruining my day. At this point we would have finished everything.” he was looking at him like a lioness looks at a gazelle after a week of starving. Yet, that lioness had eaten, even too many times, wondered Alastair. He scoffed, knowing full well that they wouldn’t have done anything if it wasn’t for that one rule.

“Stop it, Lightwood, and hurry up so we can finish early and after we can do what we want.” He smiled greedily, swooped over the couch with an athletic jump and landed just two inches from him. He put the Band-Aid on him, insisting that he needed to touch him somehow, and for Alastair to take the piss out of him, those tiny displays of affection swollen his heart.

They both went back to doing what they had to do, until Alastair finished wrapping and then put all the balls there were to be put on the tree, and all the streamers. He also began to decorate the kitchen and the entrance, putting sprigs of mistletoe here and there at Thomas' request. If he had to be completely honest, that afternoon wasn’t as bad as he initially thought.

He was getting up on the chair to put the last twig on the front door, when a Christmas tune blew up the house at full volume, scaring him and making him almost fall, “Oh hell, no,” he complained softly, but he would never ask Thomas to turn it off. For some strange reason, Christmas made him ten times happier, kinder. Perhaps it was because his past Christmas had been spent with a loving family, in houses full of gratitude and happiness, while Alastair’s had all been spent hiding his father’s eggnog where he could not find it and to buy a gift to his sister at the last minute, because no one ever remembered to drive him to the mall.

He came down from the chair in silence and took it back to the counter, where he leaned with both elbows before burying his face in his hands. Stop it, he said to himself, or you will ruin Christmas to everyone, including Thomas. He took a trembling breath, trying to calm down. His father was fine. Cordelia had told him. Layla, his sweet little Layla, who had gone to see Elias alone because he had refused to see him. Layla, who had been forced to meet an alcoholic father alone after knowing a complete different person for a very long time.

He looked out the window, where the snow was starting to come down slowly. He did not notice the volume of the music being lowered, or Thomas looking at him from the doorframe, again, but this time with a hard, thoughtful look. He did not even notice him when the first sob came out of his lips and he cursed under his breath so as not to be heard.

He only noticed Thomas when he approached him with two big strides, and circled his shoulders with his arms, bringing him close to himself, cradling him as he had done every time. Alastair turned to him, hiding his face in his chest, as a liberating cry made its way into him.

Thomas lifted him from the ground and, holding him as tight as he could, went to the couch, where he sat whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

They were like this for hours, one next to the other. The forgotten popcorn necklaces on the floor next to the tree and the half-packed gifts to keep them company.

Alastair looked up at Thomas only when he was sure he was no longer crying and what he saw on the other’s face stopped his breath. There were traces of tears on Thomas' cheeks as well. Alastair sat up straight, still on his boyfriend’s lap, holding both hands to his face, “Tom,” he whispered passing a finger on his cheekbone. Thomas took his hand in his, taking it to his mouth and leaving a tender kiss on his palm, before resting it on his chest, on his heart.

Thomas looked him in the eye and as every time he looked at him his love grew and grew so much that for a second he was afraid he would explode, he was sure that he would die if he did nothing to let Alastair know his feelings. How much he loved him and how much this love grew every day. For everything that he meant to him and for everything he stood for.

Thomas had a completely crazy idea in mind, but he was sure, sure of that love. Sure that the only voice that mattered in the midst of the thousand that he heard every day was the voice of the man who stood on his lap at that moment. And he was not afraid when he opened his mouth and moved to speak, did not feel fear, only an indescribable emotion, while…

“Marry me.”

“You marry me, Alas.”

[capsicle13]

Bad Hair Day (Stony/Superfamily)

Hey, guys! I posted this on my AO3 page, but decided to post it here on my tumblr as well. This is my attempt at writing more fluffy Stony stories since a lot of mine are full of angst. I tagged it, but just to warn you, mpreg is implied here. Just briefly mentioned. Anyway, hope you all enjoy it!

*******

Having a child was a life-changing experience, but having a daughter was another experience all on its own. They had no clue how to be parents, especially when starting a family was something they never considered. They were Avengers and in their job, a baby just didn’t fit in the equation.

That all changed and they welcomed their baby girl, Morgan. She was everything they could have hoped for and more; she was their pride and joy; their entire world.

But nothing could have prepared them for raising a daughter. Before Morgan was born and before they learned they were expecting a baby girl, Tony had been hoping for a boy. He knew how boys worked, having been one himself at one point in his life. Boys could be difficult but their actions made sense. Steve on some level agreed, but if he was being honest, he didn’t care as long as their baby was healthy.

Then Morgan was born and everything changed. There was no disappointment or regrets; she was perfect in every way. She mostly resembled Tony with her dark hair and dark eyes to match, but there were bits of Steve in her as well. Where else did her stubborn attitude come from?

Like all new parents they struggled. The early morning feedings and lack of sleep were the hardest, but it had all been worth it. Morgan was the most important thing in their lives.

It got easier as she grew up. Whatever fears and doubts they had about raising a daughter began to diminish. They knew how to comfort her when she was scared or angry; they knew what made her laugh and smile. It became second nature.

But despite all of the things they got right, there was always going to be something to screw up on. They had just anticipated it would be later in Morgan’s life.

It’s a quiet afternoon in the Stark-Rogers residence, something that rarely takes place. Usually their private quarters were filled with some type of noise, whether that be from the sounds of Morgan playing or Tony working on a new project.

The silence is nice and for a change, Steve and Tony are able to enjoy their afternoon. For once they’re not needed to save the world. Morgan is quietly playing in her room, while Tony works on his Starkpad and Steve sketches.

“You know what tomorrow is, don’t you?” Steve asks, not even looking up from his sketchbook. Tony hums in response. One look his way has Steve rolling his eyes. “Tony, did you hear me?”

“Hmm?” Tony gives up on the schematics he’s working on, head snapping up at the sound of his husband’s annoyed tone. “Wait, did you ask about dinner because you know I can’t cook.”

Steve sighs in annoyance. “Tomorrow? Ring any bells?”

“Oh picture day! Yeah of course I remember. How could I forget?”

“Just checking. You almost missed her birth.”

“I said I was sorry!” Tony cries out. Steve can’t help but chuckle at the outburst. Although it had been five years since that day and all has been forgiven, Steve still liked to give his husband a hard time.

“I know,” Steve smiles and he leans over to press a kiss to Tony’s cheek. “I still love you.”

“I won’t screw up again,” Tony promises. They both know it’s a promise that can’t be kept. Screwing up was going to happen sooner or later.

“Daddy? Papa?” Comes the soft voice of their daughter. Morgan pokes her head out from the hall, almost as if she’s afraid to approach. Tony and Steve share a look.

“Come here, Maguna.” Tony waves Morgan over, smiling when she runs into the room and plops into Tony’s lap. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Tony asks, gently pushing back a strand of dark hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“I want to look good for school tomorrow,” Morgan says, her words only confusing her parents even more. They had spent a majority of the weekend getting everything prepared for her first picture day. Now they’re starting to wonder what they did wrong.

“What do you mean?” Steve is frowning now. He remembers Morgan already picking out her outfit for tomorrow. “Honey, didn’t you pick out something?”

“You picked the suit I made you, right?” Tony asks, getting a glare from his husband. “What?”

“She is not wearing the suit,” Steve warns, then his voice is taking on a much softer tone when he speaks to his daughter. “Morgan, what’s going on?”

“I just want to look good. I really liked the way Auntie Nat did my hair and I want…” Morgan pauses, glancing down at her lap and wringing her small fingers together in a nervous fashion. She mutters something both Steve and Tony don’t understand.

“What? Little Miss, say that again,” Tony tells her and Morgan lets out a small sigh.

“I want you to...do my hair…” Morgan glances up, brown eyes darting back and forth between her parents, nervously waiting for their response.

Steve clears his throat and speaks first, “Oh...um yeah. Yeah, honey we can...do that. Tony?” Steve turns to his husband for back up, nudging him in the knee with his own when Tony refuses to catch on.

“Yeah! But if Auntie Nat did such a good job on it last time maybe she can-” Tony is cut off when Steve shakes his head, clearly not impressed with the answer. “I mean, yeah we can do that.”

“Really!” Morgan’s face lights up and she wraps her arms around Tony’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy!” She pulls away to press a big kiss to Tony’s cheek.

Tony smiles. “No problem. I think Papa needs some love too.”

Morgan agrees and she jumps out of Tony’s lap, rushing into Steve’s open arms and planting a kiss similar to the one Tony received on his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”

She runs back to her room with a huge smile on her face. Steve cranes his neck, watching as she disappears down the hall, and when he hears her bedroom door close, he turns toward his husband, a small frown showing up in his features.

“What?” Tony questions. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“We can’t do her hair!” Steve hisses.

“Why not? We just told her we would.”

“Do you know how to do hair? Because I don’t!”

“I think you’re overreacting. It’s just hair. We’ve done it before.” Tony shrugs casually and leans back in his seat.

“Yeah once! Tony, there’s a reason Nat does the hair thing,” Steve reminds him.

“Okay well maybe it’s time we do it. I mean, we’re Morgan’s parents. How hard can it be?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. “Maybe you’re right.”

Turns out, doing their daughter’s hair is much harder than they anticipated.

With picture day literally hours away, there is no time to be wasted, and the once peaceful afternoon shifts into one of utter chaos. Maybe that was too dramatic, but that calmness that was once surrounding their home disappeared the moment they sat Morgan down in the bathroom and attempted to do her hair.

She had been so excited to have her daddies do her hair. Ever since Steve failed miserably when Morgan was two, it was always Natasha doing the styling. That was going to change, though. At least, that’s what everyone thought.

“Ow, Papa that hurts!” Morgan cries, squirming in the chair that had been set up for her to sit in. Steve sighs harshly, cursing under his breath when the brush he was using refuses to untangle from his daughter’s hair.

“Sorry, sweetie. It’s..a..little...stuck…” Steve says while trying to pull the brush free. He tugs a little too hard and Morgan cries out again.

A chuckle on his left reaches Steve’s ears and he turns toward the bathroom entrance, finding a very amused Tony lingering in the doorway. “Need help?” Tony asks, another chuckle escaping him when Steve glares.

“No,” Steve replies firmly, and he turns back to the task at hand. “It’s fine. Her hair is just super thick. Dammit, Tony this is your fault!”

“Are you referring to the idea or the hair? I did have thick hair as a kid.”

Steve sends another glare his husband’s way. “Shut up. Can you…” He gestures at the mess he’s made of their daughter’s hair, a sigh of frustration escaping him.

Not needing to be asked twice, Tony steps into the bathroom and comes closer to inspect the damage. “Yikes,” he winces at the mess Steve had managed to make in less than five minutes. “How the hell did you get it stuck?”

“It’s stuck!” Morgan cries, turning her head to try and see for herself.

“No, no!” Steve assures. “It’s just a little...Tony, do something,” he hisses.

Tony smirks. He goes in as gently as he can; his goal is to get the brush untangled from Morgan’s hair without hurting her or ripping any out in the process. “Damn,” he says through gritted teeth. “I did not know your hair was this thick.”

Morgan emits a whimper when her head is repeatedly tugged in every direction. “Ow, Daddy!”

“Sorry,” Tony apologizes. “Blame your Papa.”

Steve rolls his eyes. It’s tempting to fire back with a snarky reply, but Steve bites his tongue. He’s too focused on his daughter and the guilt of putting her in this situation.

“Almost got it,” Tony announces after a few more minutes of fighting with the brush. There’s a loud rip when Tony pulls a little too hard, and Steve’s eyes are widening at the sound. Tony, too absorbed in his victory, fails to notice that he had taken some of Morgan’s hair out along with the brush. “Aha! Got you!” Tony holds the brush up proudly, then he’s noticing the dark wad of hair attached to the brush. “Shit!”

“What!” Morgan’s eyes go wide and she scrambles to turn in her seat. Steve quickly steps in, rushing toward her and spinning her back around.

“It’s nothing, sweetie. Daddy is just...that’s just his favorite word,” Steve tries to assure, knowing that he’s failing miserably. Their daughter was no idiot.

“Is it gone?” Morgan asks, using one hand to reach behind her to feel for the brush. A small smile forms over her face in relief when she realizes it’s no longer stuck to her head. “Thank you, Daddy! You fixed Papa’s mess!”

“Sure did, Maguna,” Tony tells her, shrugging when Steve narrows his eyes at him and gestures angrily at the brush. “Let me try and comb it now okay? I’ll be gentle.”

And by gentle, Tony means cautious as hell. He goes as slow as he possibly can, praying each time he brushes through the dark strands that there’s not another repeat. It goes well, and soon Morgan’s hair is no longer resembling a rat’s nest.

“There! All done!” Tony leans down and rests his chin on his daughter’s shoulders, watching her reflection in the mirror. “Looks good right?”

Morgan frowns and their eyes meet in the mirror. “You didn’t do anything. It looks the same.”

“Actually, it looks better. You should have seen what your Papa-”

“Okay,” Steve intervenes, growing tired of the constant reminder of his screw up. “But Tony, she wanted it…” Steve pauses, turning toward his daughter. “Morgan, what did you want?”

“A French braid. Like Auntie Nat does sometimes.”

“What the fu-I mean what is French braid?” Tony asks, the question more so directed at his husband.

“It’s a really pretty braid. Auntie Nat did it for me one time,” Morgan smiles. She reaches up to play with her hair, oblivious to the confused looks her parents are sharing behind her.

“I think we better get Nat-” Steve begins to suggest, but Tony is quickly shutting that idea down.

“No way. We can do this French braid thing. Now hand me the brush.”

Steve sighs and grabs the brush, placing it in Tony’s hand. “Please don’t mess up,” he mutters to himself.

Tony of course messes up in the first couple of minutes. Luckily the brush didn’t get stuck again, but the hair ties were becoming an issue. Morgan cries out whenever Tony ties it too tight or when it gets tangled in a few strands of her hair. With a huff, Tony steps back.

“You give up?” Steve asks from his spot on the edge of the tub.

“Nope! I just need something,” Tony explains, then he’s rushing out of the room.

“Don’t get the suit!” Steve calls out, then he’s groaning and burying his face in his hands.

“Papa?” Morgan’s scared voice captures Steve’s attention and he’s snapping his head up in her direction. “Daddy isn’t going to be Iron Man when he does my hair, right?”

“God I hope not.”

Tony returns a few minutes later, thankfully not dressed in the familiar red and gold suit. “Needed my tablet.” He holds it up for a second before propping it up on the sink and typing something on the screen.

“What are you doing?” Steve grows curious when another voice fills the room and he comes over to investigate. The video Tony has playing shows a girl with a bubbly personality demonstrating how a French braid is done. “Does this work?” Steve asks, gesturing toward the screen.

“It’s supposed to. People watch tutorials all the time,” Tony answers, then he’s turning his attention back to the video. He watches the full thing, then he’s shutting it off, feeling confident that he can pull off the same look the woman demonstrated.

“That’s it?” Steve asks when Tony immediately jumps back in at styling Morgan’s hair. “You’re not going to watch it again or keep it playing and following the steps?”

“Honey, I got it. I’m a genius, remember? I only need to watch it once.”

Tony could not have been more wrong. He had felt his confidence surging within when he first started working on Morgan’s hair, but little by little it was starting to diminish, leaving him feeling that he was doing a worse job than Steve.

Separating the strands had been the easy part, but when it came to twisting and forming those strands into the pretty braid shown on the video, that’s when Tony lost it.

“What the hell?” He grumbles to himself, gritting his teeth in frustration when he fails to get Morgan’s hair just the way she wants. Morgan whimpers when he tugs too hard and he quickly apologizes.

“Daddy, maybe we can call Auntie Nat,” Morgan is starting to sound like Steve. Tony doesn’t know how many times Steve had suggested the same idea during the past ten minutes.

“Nope. Daddy’s got this, sweetheart,” Tony assures. “Give me another thing,” he gestures toward the sink.

“Another thing?” Steve questions, brows drawing together in confusion. “What thing?” he asks, when he fails to understand what his husband is referring to.

“The thing! The-the little tie things!”

“A hair tie!”

“Yes!”

“Daddy…”

“I got it,” Tony promises. He takes the little pink hair tie Steve offers and carefully ties together the strands of hair. “I think it’s working.”

“You think?” Steve is skeptical, craning his neck to get a better view of what his husband has been doing for the past thirty minutes. He frowns at the results. He doesn’t remember that from the video. “Tony, are you sure that’s right?”

“Yeah,” Tony sounds so sure of himself. He takes a step back to examine his work, humming as he takes in the final result. “Looks good to me.”

Steve frowns. “I thought she wanted a long braid. You have…” Steve counts silently to himself. “Three...four braids? And this one isn’t even. It’s-”

“Do you want to try?” Tony snaps. “Go ahead, Steve try! See how difficult it really is!”

“Maybe Auntie Nat-”

“No!” Steve and Tony both say simultaneously.

“Move,” Steve growls, nudging Tony out of the way. “I’ll do it.”

*************

The last thing Natasha expected was to hear her doorbell ring. It wasn’t terribly late, but no one rarely came to her door in the middle of the night, unless it was of course an emergency. She frowns as she makes her way toward the door, the confused expression only growing when she opens the door and reveals her two best friends and niece.

“What is going on?” Natasha asks, then she notices the state her niece is in. “Oh my God what did you do to her hair!”

Morgan whimpers, bottom lip jutting out and trembling and tears in her dark eyes. The hair atop her head is a complete disaster, twisted in some areas and tangled in others, colorful plastic ties decorating each strand of the dark locks.

“We tried,” Steve is the first to explain. Tony holds up the brush that they had been using, and Natasha’s eyes widen at the large hairball the brush had collected.

“Tried what exactly? What is this!” Natasha reaches outs and examines one of the failed braids. “Do you hate your child?”

“What? No! Of course not!” Tony exclaims. “Can you just help us out? We obviously suck at this hair thing.”

“Obviously,” Natasha says, then she’s directing her attention to Morgan. “Hey, sweetie, I’ll fix it okay? Go into the bathroom and I’ll be right there.”

Morgan sniffs and nods her head, then she’s disappearing down the hall toward the familiar bathroom.

“I swear we tried,” Steve tries to explain when Natasha is sending them another disapproving look. “It’s just...we’re…” He looks at his husband for help.

“We’re guys and we’re stupid. Please help us before our daughter really does hate us and wants to move in with you,” Tony says.

A smile breaks across Natasha’s face. “She doesn’t hate you. Though after tonight, she might want to live with me. I’ll convince her that she’s better off with you two morons.”

They’re invited in and they make themselves comfortable on the sofa while Natasha attends to Morgan’s hair down the hall.

“I think we think we’re horrible parents,” Steve says.

Tony hums in agreement. “I know we’re not perfect, but damn I thought we would get this right. This can’t be the worst thing we’ve ever done, has it?”

“I don’t know.” Steve tries to think back to anything they’ve ever done that could top this. “I don’t think so. Just wait, though. Something worse will come along.”

“Jesus,” Tony groans and he leans forward, burying his face in his hands. “Wait till she’s a teenager.”

Just that thought alone makes Steve sick to his stomach. “Oh God and boys. And other things I really don’t understand.”

“You’re dealing with that one!” Tony points a finger in Steve’s direction.

“I don’t want to think about it. She’s still our baby.”

“She’ll always be our baby.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees.

A few minutes pass before Natasha and Morgan are entering the room. Both Steve and Tony jump to their feet when their daughter approaches them. She no longer has tears running down her face, and instead she’s wearing a bright smile.

“Look! Auntie Nat fixed your mess!” Morgan spins around to show off her perfect braid.

“How the hell did you do that?” Steve asks and Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Seriously, it’s not rocket science.”

“You’re right,” Tony says. “Rocket science is much easier to understand.”

“You look beautiful,” Steve smiles down at his daughter. Morgan throws her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

“I know you tried,” Morgan stares up at him. “I still love you.”

“Hey. What about me?” Tony fakes being hurt and Morgan giggles, rushing toward him to give him a hug. Tony picks her up and she hugs him tightly.

“I love you 3000!”

“Hear that?” Tony says. “She loves me more than all of you.”

“Go home,” Natasha teases and she walks them toward the door. “You know you can always ask me for help, right? I don’t mind doing her hair. It’s fun.”

“We know,” Steve says. “We just wanted to give it a try.”

“Well, come by tomorrow and I can show you boys how it’s done.”

Natasha opens the door and Steve steps out first, but Tony lingers in the doorway. “Oh! Since we’re on the topic of help, can you help us with another issue?” He asks.

“What is it?” Natasha raises a questioning brow.

“We’ll let you know in seven years.”

[atths--twice]

So... this one is definitely NSFW. You have been warned...

The Ninth Month 6c/6

Chapter Three 

Mulder Lends a Hand 

The task continues to get the birth moving along.

October 29th- early evening

“I’m back with the food!” he called up the stairs as he walked in and set it on the table.

He opened the bags, took out their food, and tossed the bags out. He took the ketchup out of the fridge and set it on the table, as an idea popped into his head. Quickly grabbing the candles in the drawer, he put them in the holders he found on a shelf, set them on the table and lit them, waiting for Scully to come downstairs.

He heard the floors creak and knew she was heading toward the stairs. She appeared in front of him in her pajama bottoms and another one of his shirts. Her hair up in a ponytail and her skin flushed. He loved “just from the bath” Scully. She was so adorable.

“Oh, Mulder,” she said, walking toward the table as she rubbed her back. She ran her hand down his arm as they sat down, smiling at him and leaning toward him for kiss. He met her halfway, kissing a couple of times, before they began to eat.

While they ate, she told him more of what the doctor had said about the scheduled c-section. She said again how she did not want that to happen, so they needed to do anything they could to move this along. Not just sex, but being more active. The things she had been avoiding of late, like taking a walk. He nodded, finished his last bite, and stood up from the table.

He made a show of stretching, cracking his neck, bending low and standing quickly, running in place, then taking quick breaths through his mouth. Scully laughed at his antics and he smiled at her.

They cleaned up their mess and she suggested taking a walk outside. She slyly said they should go out the side door to avoid the porch witch, and he heartily agreed.

For a half an hour, they walked hand in hand around the yard. She laughed at his corny jokes and on their second time around the property, they sat down on the porch steps, looking up at the stars as they began to appear. She put her head on his shoulder and took a deep breath.

“I really hope all this works,” she said quietly.

“It will. Whatever we can do, Scully. Whatever I can do for you, I will. Anything, Scully. I am here for you to use in any way you need,” he said, as he put his arm around her waist, his fingers stroking lightly on her hip.

“Hmm, I like the way you think,” she said, putting her hand on his inner thigh and squeezing. He exhaled and stood up, reaching for her hands.

“Come on, Scully,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “We’re on a mission. We need to beat that deadline.” She laughed as he helped her up the stairs, into the house, and up the stairs. They stepped into the bedroom and close to the bed.

“You know,” she said, running her hands under his shirt and scraping her nails up his chest. “Another thing we could try is nipple stimulation.” She tweaked his nipples and he gasped. He grasped her waist and moaned. At her smile, he shook his head.

“I don’t see how you messing with my nipples will help you,” he said, sliding his hands under her shirt, scratching his short nails across her back. “But hey, if it gets you going, I’m all for it.” She chuckled and tickled his sides, causing him to jump and she laughed again.

“I clearly meant you stimulating mine, but I do enjoy the noises you make when I touch yours,” she purred.

“Hmmm,” he hummed and stepped back from her. He lifted her shirt off and stared at her breasts. They were so full and her nipples were already hard. He licked his lips and he heard her groan.

“Okay,” he said, taking a breast in his hand, bending down and sucking on a nipple, as he grabbed his hair and swore.

“I want to try something,” he said, raising his head and looking at her. She let go of his hair and stood there breathing hard.

“What do you want to try?” she asked him breathlessly, as he held both breasts in his hands and brushed his thumbs across her nipples.

“I want you to lay down in the bed and I want to make you come by touching, sucking, licking and nibbling at these fabulous tits,” he said, and she whimpered as brushed across them again.

“God, Scully, they are truly outstanding. I mean, I love your breasts, please don’t get me wrong, but damn, Scully. Damn,” he said, lightly pinching her nipples.

“Oh, god Mulder,” she breathed huskily, her head falling back; her voice shooting straight to his groin.

He bent his head toward her ear, squeezing a breast as he did. “Get in the bed,” he growled.

She lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were dark and he knew it would not take long, but he was going to take his time. If they were trying to stop a c-section, and orgasms were one way to do that, he was now on a mission to give her as many as he could.

He glanced at the bed and told her to wait. He pulled the blankets back and then arranged the pillows so she was able to sit back as opposed to lying flat. She slipped off her shoes and started to take off her pajama bottoms, but he stopped her. He pointed to the bed and he watched her breathe hard.

He loved when she was bossy and demanding, but he knew she liked when he was as well. The times she had come hardest was when he had been more demanding of her body or telling her what he wanted to do to her. If he had his way, tonight would be another one of those times.

She got in the bed and laid back. He took off his shoes and stood next to the bed. He opened her legs and climbed into the bed between them. She bent her knees as they lay on the bed, to give him more space, and he smiled at her. He leaned over her, placing his hands on either side of her body.

He could see and hear her breathing. Her eyes never left his face and he could feel the heat coming off of her. She was trapped by his body and he knew that alone turned her on. His height, when he used it to his advantage and encroached into her space like this, he knew it made her hot.

This position was going to be interesting. He did not want to push on her. His hands needed to support his weight and he was going to mostly be using his mouth. He looked at her face, before his eyes traveled down to her breasts. Watching her breasts rise and fall with the breaths she was talking, stirred his groin and made him start to get hard. He smiled. This was going to be fun.

He leaned down and kissed her, softly and then with more urgency. He sucked her lip into his mouth and bit it softly before running his tongue across it.

“Mulder..” she moaned, pushing up into him, grabbing onto the backs of his arms.

He smiled and kissed her neck, licked between her breasts, then kissed both nipples.

“Fucking hell,” she whispered, squeezing his arms harder.

He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking lightly and then harder. He opened his mouth and took in more of her breast, suckling at her and then grazing her nipple with his teeth.

“Mulder!” she cried.

He switched to the other one and she grabbed his hair. He took his mouth off of her and blew across both nipples. She bucked up into him, pulling his hair hard, unable to control herself.

“Hey, take it easy now. I’m not done yet,” he said, moving her hands down to the bed and holding them down firmly, before tracing his tongue around one nipple then moving to the other one. He knew that her hands being trapped and held down would add to her arousal.

She was panting and trying to grab at the sheets, but his tight grip on her hands stopped her. She moaned his name repeatedly, thrashing her head, as he kept up his attention on her breasts. He let go of one hand to cup and squeeze her breast as he lathed it with his tongue. She held onto his forearm tightly, whimpering and moaning.

He put his hand back down on the bed and used his other hand on the other breast. He circled his tongue around again and then flicked it back and forth. She gasped again and started moving her legs, squeezing his hips.

He raised his head and looked at her. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them when he stopped moving. She stared at him and he smiled slowly, looking at her lips while licking his own.

He kept his eyes on hers and held her breast, using his thumb to run across the nipple. Her eyes rolled back and closed as she whined.

“Scully, open your eyes,” he whispered.  

With great difficulty, she opened them and looked at him. He lifted her breast and licked her nipple, keeping his eyes on hers. He bit down and she cried out, closing her eyes.

He let go of her nipple and moved his mouth close to her ear while she panted. “You’re going to come, Scully, and I’m going to make it happen,” he whispered to her.

He gave her no chance to respond before he slid his tongue in her mouth where hers stroked along his and made him harder. He kissed her chin, down the column of her neck, before he landed at her breasts again.

He lightly scraped his teeth across an entire breast before arriving at her nipple and biting, licking, and biting again. He quickly switched and repeated it on the other breast.

She was moaning and squeezing him with her legs even more than earlier. She was panting out his name, gripping his forearms. He took a nipple into his mouth and at the same time, he moved a hand to her breast and twisted her nipple, as he bit down on the other.

“Oh, Jesus!” she yelled out, arching her back, pushing into him, and digging her nails into his arms.

He kept sucking on her nipple and twisting softly, as she fell back and relaxed into the bed. She grabbed his head and put it between her breasts. He put his hand back next to her and remained still.

He smiled with his face between her breasts. She held onto him and he could feel her heart racing and her lungs expanding with air. He was buried tightly in her breasts, but made no complaints, or attempted to move. Smothered by Scully’s fabulous breasts... what a way to go.

She released her hold on him and he looked up at her. Her cheeks were flushed and she was still breathing hard. He smiled as she smoothed down his hair.

“You okay?” he asked her saucily.

"God...so much more than okay,” she said, stroking his face, and smiling at him, still catching her breath.

“I’m glad,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. He nuzzled her neck, kissed her jaw, then came back to her lips. He grazed his fingers across her center. To no great surprise, he found her very wet. He did it again and she gasped into his mouth.

“Mulder, fuck! Pants off. I need you inside of me,” she panted, trying to push him away and get off the bed.

He chuckled softly and stopped her movements. He laid her back and scooted off the bed. He took off all of his clothes and stood before her nude and hard. He watched her watch him as he slowly stroked himself and it made him twitch. He loved when she watched him.

“How do you want to do this?” he asked her in a low voice. She licked her lips, her eyes still on his hand.

“Scully? Deadline remember? Focus,” he said and she growled in response.

“Get on the bed, on your back. I’m going to go for a ride,” she said brazenly, getting off the bed.

Fuck. He felt all his remaining blood rush down and knew he was in for it. He did as she said and she took off her pajama bottoms, letting them fall to the floor. She had no panties on and he shook his head. Such sweet torture.

She got back on the bed and straddled him. He held her hips while she steadied herself with her hands on his chest. She looked down at him and he stared at her.

“You ready?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she answered.

They worked together and she lifted up and then onto him. He held her hips as they became fully connected and they both groaned. She kept her hands on his chest and begin to move. Slowly at first, but then she went faster.

“Mulder,” she breathed.

He knew what she wanted and he obliged her. He held her hips and helped her move her body harder against his own. Her groans and cries aroused him and made him work harder. He wanted to please her, to make her come again.

God, he loved being inside of her. Feeling her around him always felt like the first time. Like coming home after being away for far too long. She was warm and soft and so Scully.

She began to speed up and he felt his release building. He looked at her face and her eyes were closed. He could tell she was not quite there yet and he needed to change that.

Her pendulous breasts were swaying above him. He moved a hand from her hip to her inner thigh. He raised his head up and took a breast in his mouth as his thumb found her center.  

Her eyes flew open and her movements halted for a fraction of a second. She began going faster as he bit her nipple and worked his thumb against her most sensitive area. She cried out as she came again and he moved his hands back to her hips, slamming her down on him a few more times, before he came hard inside her.

He cried her name as he held onto her and she kept moving slowly as they both came down. Her hands remained on his chest as they fought to resume their breathing. He put his hands around her waist and rolled them to the side. Her leg was over his, keeping them joined for the time being.

“Jesus Christ, Mulder,” she whispered, her head against his chest. “That was fucking amazing. I have never been so aroused by your mouth on my breasts before. You made me so wet, Mulder. God. We’re going to need to do that again.”

He exhaled a laugh and kissed her forehead. “Wet? What? I hadn’t noticed,” he said and she laughed. “And I agree completely. I will be doing that again. It was very.. titillating.”

“Mulder..” she laughed and shook her head. She leaned back to look in his eyes, gesturing to her stomach. “If that didn’t start something here, just know it definitely started and finished something here." She squeezed her internal muscles and he groaned.

“Jesus,” he exhaled, pulling her closer before he pulled out and then back from her. She whined and stuck out her lip. He kept going and grabbed the blankets, pulling them back up the bed. She smiled as he covered her with the sheet but then left the heavier blanket on the end of the bed.

He slid in next to her and pulled her to him. She put her head on his shoulder and grazed his nipples with her nails. He gasped and she laughed as they lay there for awhile before she spoke.

“I seriously want to do that again, Mulder,” she yawned. “I just need a quick nap.”

She took a deep breath and he could tell she was already asleep. He ran his fingers through her hair and she shifted a little. He kissed her head and closed his eyes. She was right, that was amazing and he was looking forward to doing it again.

A quick nap though, he thought as he pulled her closer and took a breath, that sounded good. He listened to her breathing and let it lull him to sleep.

[twdeadlysins]

Together

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3,981

Summary: The reader goes on a solo run and claims it’s important and it’ll be quick, that she’ll be back before lunch. When dinner rolls around, Daryl starts to worry and think of the worse, so he sets out to find his missing girlfriend with Rick and Glenn. 

Request: Requested by @leej2468 -> 6. “I almost lost you” - The reader (M/F) gets seriously injured and they haven't woken up yet. Daryl stays by their side, worried if they'll ever wake. When they finally do, he's relieved and hugs them and says #6 and cries. --- I hope you like it! Thank you so much for the request!

Warnings: Daryl’s POV, fluff, angst, then more fluff, established relationship, the usual walking dead violence, language, blood, and such with possible typos

Author’s Note: Another Daryl one-shot in the books, hella ya! I hope @leej2468 and everyone else who reads this likes it!! I have plenty more requests where that came from!

If you want to be tagged/removed for my Daryl Dixon fics, then don’t hesitate to send me an ask, message, or leave a comment! The same goes for any other fics! I’m in no way, shape, or form a writer, so um don’t attack pls. Any feedback is much appreciated! Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

The gifs I use aren’t mine, so all credit goes to their respective owners.

MASTERLIST

Daryl grumbled when he felt movement in the bed and forced his eyes apart once he heard the most angelic sound, Y/N’s laugh. She apologized for waking him up and started to run her fingers through his hair, making him nuzzle into her chest and tighten his grip around her. Y/N let out a content sigh and leaned her head on top of his, he wished the two of you could stay like this forever and it was like she read his mind. 

“I wish we could stay in bed all day, but we have things to do,” she softly reminded, gently rubbing the archer’s forearm before weaving herself out of his grasp. Daryl groaned missing her warmth already as he propped his arm up so he can rest his head in his palm to watch as Y/N got herself dressed. The hunter’s mouth quirked up watching her hop on each foot trying to wiggle her way into her dark skinny jeans. ‘Till this day, he still didn’t know how or why Y/N was with him. 

Daryl met Y/N at Hershel’s farm, she wasn’t a Greene, but she may as well be considering how close she was with them. She was one of their neighbors and sought them out when things went south at her house, leaving her the only survivor. Y/N was a skillful person and an all around badass, knowing how to fight, shoot, hunt, track and even mechanics… everything that Daryl knew as well. When his bike needing a fix, she offered to help in anyway she could, but was mindful that he knew what to do. Everyone in the past was always trying to one up him, show them they better than him, or belittle him, but she wasn’t everyone. 

Daryl had walked in with a heap of sticks and a log or two in his hands, going to throw them in the fireplace. The farm had been swarmed with walkers months ago and the group couldn’t find a permanent place to stay, so they had to hop from place to place and it was dreadful especially knowing there was going to be an addition to the group soon with Lori pregnant. 

After the archer tossed and lit the flames with his lighter, everyone huddled around the fireplace except Rick and Y/N. Rick had a scowl expression on his face as he leaned back on the wall with his arms crossed staring at the back of his wife’s head. Y/N, on the other hand, looked exhausted holding her jacket tight around her frame as she sat against the wall with her knees tucked in her chest. Daryl made his way over and sat next to her, but she didn’t react, not noticing since she was still staring off into space. He was hesitant at first, but ultimately moved some hair out of her face, making her move away slightly and look at him in bewilderment. Her eyes were slightly red and they were tired looking, he knew she wasn’t sleeping even when she wasn’t on watch duty and it made him sad to see her like that. 

“Y/N, go get warm by the fire,” his voice rasped in a whisper, but she shook her head and brought her hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, brushing his hand slightly in the process. “They need it more than me,” she muttered, glancing over at Carl and the corner of her mouth twitched up at the sight of him cuddling with his mother. 

Without saying another word, knowing she was stubborn, Daryl wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist and pulled her flush against his side. She didn’t show any sign of rejection as she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on chest and despite their bodies warming each other, his heart was warm as well.Carol had peeked over and grinned, giving Daryl a teasing look since she knew he liked Y/N and he just rolled his eyes at the woman as she went to lay down. 

The fire was slowly dying down and everyone was asleep except Rick, who was keeping watch and the younger Dixon, who was rubbing circles on Y/N’s waist. “Do you think Rick and Lori will be okay?” she questioned and it surprised him since he thought she had finally fallen asleep. 

“I don’ know. Hope so for the sake of the kids,” he mumbled, not feeding her a lie to make her feel better and she always respected that, so she had vowed to do the same. Y/N reluctantly pulled away and stared at him with tearful eyes that shattered his heart. “I’m tired, Daryl.” 

“Come here, I’ll keep ya safe,” he said, motioning for her to lay down in his arms, but she shook her head, making him furrow his brows. “No, I’m tired of running around. God, I feel so selfish and dumb for saying that because I know everyone here is tired too, but-” she deeply exhaled and shrugged, blinking off to the side to prevent her tears from escaping. “I don’t know.” 

“Aye,” Daryl softly called, rubbing her cheek when a tear streamed down her face. “Yer not bein’ selfish. Ya let ever’one take most of ya rations, ya stay up all nigh’ ta keep watch ‘n ya don’ take it out on anyone. Yer the mos’ selfless person here, Y/N.” 

She chuckled through her tears and lifted her hand to cradle his that was still holding her face. “I’m here for ya, Y/N and we’ll get through this together, okay?” She nodded and situated herself back into his arms, clutching his hand before lifting her head to peer at him. Before Daryl could process where her eyes flickered, her lips were on his, her other hand cupping his cheek and he wasted no time in doing the same even with his mind all fuzzy. Daryl was still in a daze when she withdrew especially when she smiled back at him. “I’ve been wanting to do that since we fixed your bike.” 

“Earth to Dixon!”

Daryl blinked a couple times before glancing up at his girlfriend that was now all dressed for the day. She had her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes, walking towards the bed. “Come on, I’m not leaving this room without you,” she said, grabbing Daryl’s hands and lifting him out of bed before getting his clothes. After he kept stalling with kisses and holding her hostage, she helped him put his final piece of clothing on, his winged vest that they both loved, and grabbed his hand to lead him out of their shared cell. 

With the Woodbury people now occupying the prison it helped a lot, but that didn’t mean Daryl and Y/N could stop doing their jobs. Y/N pecked Daryl’s lips and informed him that she had to go talk to Rick about something, so once she left, he went to tune up his bike since he’d have to go on a run soon. An hour or so went by and he noticed Rick, Carol, and Y/N talking near the gate with her motorcycle which confused the archer, so he dropped his tools and hurried down there. 

Y/N tore her orbs off of Rick and her eyes light up when they connected to Daryl’s. “I was just about to come find you!” 

“What’s this?” He questioned, pointing his finger towards her bike, not understanding what’d she need it for. 

“She’s going on a run,” Rick answered for her and that made Daryl snap his head to glare at him. “I’m goin’ on a run in the next day or so, can it wait?” the hunter inquired. Their best friend looked at Y/N and she gave him a look which made Rick peer at his feet before shaking his head at Daryl. “Well, then I’m goin’ too.” 

Y/N was quick to refuse and that made him even more confused. “It’s a solo run and it’s important. It’ll be quick, in and out, so I see no need in the both of us going,” she reasoned, but Daryl thought it would be safer if they both went. “Baby,” she softly said, going up to him and placing her palms on his face, stroking her thumbs. “It’s a quick run, I’ll be back before lunch. I can take care of myself plus Carol has a job for you anyways.” 

He glanced over at the two of his best friends and they smiled and nodded, so he sighed and agreed leading Y/N to kiss his face all over and repeatedly thank him. “I love you!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I love ya too.” Daryl playfully rolled his eyes, earning a wack in the chest before hearing a chuckle erupt from her lips. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss before she tossed her leg over her bike. 

“Ya be safe, ya hear!” 

She twisted her body and waved before revving the bike and riding off to her unknown destination. Daryl watched as she disappeared and he couldn’t shake the ill feeling he had about it all. Rick patted his shoulder saying she’d be alright as he walked off to leave Carol to get him to work. 

Daryl had already finished Carol’s task and even knocked out his bike to get his worried mind off of how long Y/N was gone. The sun was already starting to set and she had pleaded it would be quick, either she was lying or something was wrong… but she wouldn’t lie to him- would she? 

The archer asked around for Rick and once he found him near one of their vehicles, he looked as worried as he did. “Daryl, Glenn and I are going to go see what’s taking Y/N so long, let’s go.” 

Daryl was antsy, bobbing his leg up and down while chewing on his thumbnail as Rick sped down the road until he realized something. “Wait, yer meanin’ ta tell me ya knew where Y/N’s been this entire time?” he angrily questioned, earning a sideways glance from the deputy before he eyed the road, tightening his jaw as he accelerated. Daryl huffed and turned his head around to look at Glenn. “Ya too?” Glenn tore his orbs off of the hunter and looked at the ground giving Daryl the answer he was looking for. 

Rick parked the car on the side of the street where a great deal of stores were located and Daryl made a mental note to come back here at a later date. Once the three of them exited the vehicle, they approached a shopping center that consisted of grocery store, a hair salon, a jewelry store, and a pharmacy. Y/N’s bike was parked in front of the drug store which led Daryl to approach the place, but Rick said that she wouldn’t be in there as he headed towards the jewelry store… why would she go there? Daryl chose not to question it, his priority was finding Y/N. 

Rick withdrew his revolver, so Glenn wielded out his glock and Daryl handled his crossbow on alert for anything suspicious. The hunter meticulously maneuvered his way around the broken glass that was scattered across the floor, careful not to make a peep. After scanning the area and all the rooms within it, they came up empty and Daryl became even more frustrated and worried. Before the archer could lash and wreck things, they heard a loud crash that sounded like it came from the next building over. “Didn’t Y/N say she would scout out for supplies after she was done here if she had time?” Glenn inquired to Rick since Daryl knew jack shit why she wanted to go on a solo run in the first place. 

Daryl bolted out the jewelry store to race into the grocery store, but he softened his footsteps and opened the entrance quietly when Rick and Glenn were right behind him. The men were crouched and could hear multiple voices, so Rick signaled for Glenn to go left, Daryl to go right while he went down the middle. As Daryl grew closer to the commotion he could make out three male voices along with a female’s… Y/N. 

“Where’s your camp?” A gruff voice demanded followed with a thump mixed with grunts. Y/N coughed and told him to go straight to hell before he heard her yelp and his blood boiled knowing they were hurting her let alone touching her. Daryl peeked through a couple of can goods on a shelf and saw that one man was roughly holding her hair, forcing her stand up whereas the other two were in front of her, one holding a bat and the other a gun. Y/N’s lip was busted, one eye was severely bruised, and he couldn’t even imagine what else was underneath her clothes. He couldn’t get a clear shot of them, not without revealing himself and that wouldn’t be good, so Daryl decided to give Rick and Glenn some more time to get there since it was a pretty big marketplace. 

“Now I’m gonna ask you again, where’s your camp?”

Y/N gripped the man’s hands that held her hair and spat blood on the floor next to her. “And I’m gonna tell you again. Go. To. Hell.” Before Daryl could make out what the man was gonna do next, he, without hesitation, fired a single bullet into her knee making her scream and drop, clutching her leg while she bit her lip and hummed out in pain. Daryl sprinted in action and struck the guy that held the bat in the back of the head with his bolt as Rick and Glenn came out and shot three body shots into the other. Within that span of time, the guy who shot Y/N had her back flush against his chest and held the gun to the side of her temple. 

“Don’t fuckin’ move or I’ll pull this damn trigger!” he shouted, veins popping out of his face and neck making Daryl scared that he’d pull it anyways. Y/N had his forearm that was around her neck in her grasp trying her best to support her weight so she could stand. While Rick tried to reason with him, Daryl coldly stared at the man behind the sight of his crossbow, ready to release his arrow into his skull when he had a clear shot. The archer tore his orbs off of him for a second to look at Y/N and his glare softened, she was staring back at him with love and distress. She mouthed that she loved him before tearing his arm away from her neck and headbutted her attacker, he instinctively grabbed his nose in pain and Y/N managed to yank her spare knife out of her boot and sliced the guy’s throat. Daryl dropped his crossbow and sprinted to aid his girlfriend, but he froze when a shot rang out. The guy had enough strength in him to fire another bullet before going limp on the ground.

Y/N staggered back and clutched her abdomen as she peered down to see blood seeping between her fingers. She tearfully looked back at and over to Daryl in shock before falling back, but he was able to catch her before she hit the ground. “No, no, no!” 

Daryl was trying his best to hold his tears as he was desperately trying to cover her wound with his hands. Y/N placed her palms on top of his making him grab onto her hand and shout for Rick or Glenn to get him something to stop the bleeding. “Yer gonna be okay, baby, ya hear me?” 

Rick knelt down and instructed Daryl to carry her to the backseat of the car, so the hunter lifted her up bridal style, doing his best not to cause her anymore pain while Rick helped him by opening up the doors that got in the way. When they got to the vehicle, Daryl laid Y/N down and settled her head onto his lap, Rick hopped in the driver’s seat and started the engine as Glenn was running to the car with towels. He tossed the fabrics at Daryl and the car took off before he could place them over Y/N’s bullet wound. “Stay with me, Y/N,” Daryl ordered with desperation as he tapped her cheek when he saw her eyes flutter. 

“I’m tired, Dare,” she whispered, going to shut her eyes once more, but he didn’t let her… afraid she would fall asleep and never wake up. He couldn’t lose another person he loved, not her, he couldn’t lose her. 

“Aye, remember that nigh’ in that cabin? When ya said that ta me and I told ya I’d always be there for ya and we’d get through it together?” She hummed, placing her hand on top of his that was caressing her cheek and leaned into his touch. “I meant that for the rest of our lives, so don’ go quittin’ on me. I need ya,” he sobbed, rubbing her hair before kissing her forehead and asking how long until they would arrive at the prison. 

Daryl was anxiously waiting for any news along with the rest of their family on Y/N’s condition. He had sprinted out the car and up the terrain crying out for Hershel to save her. He didn’t have the energy to fight, to ask why she went out there in the first place, and why everyone let her… he didn’t even know why he let her. He just wanted to be there, to be with her, but he was instructed to leave the room and he hated having to wait, hated not being able to hold her hand. Rick did his best to comfort him- rubbed his shoulder, said she was a tough sonuvabitch and she would fight, she wouldn’t leave him. Daryl knew she would fight, but he also knew there was only so much she could take… he just didn’t want her to be in pain and if that meant for her to go someplace else- a place that wasn’t here, then he’d have to come to terms with that eventually. 

“I should’ve went with her,” Rick spoke up, rubbing his face with regret. “She’s stubborn and turned everyone downed who offered- she just wanted to do it alone, Daryl. It wasn’t you- trust me, you’ll understand why she didn’t want you coming along.”

Daryl rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he leaned his forehead on them, closing his eyes and praying to whoever not to take her from him. The door finally opened and Daryl lolled his head to the side with droopy, tired eyes waiting for the doctor to say anything. “It was a pain, but she was not ready to let go… she’s okay,” Hershel announced with a smile before Beth attacked her father with a hug. 

The archer began to weep in relief, shoulders moving up and down as he covered his face with his hands. Glenn and Maggie embraced each other as they cried, Rick sighed with a smile and patted his brother’s back, Carol grinned through her tears and hugged Carl, Michonne was elated, everyone was relieved. Hershel told Daryl he could go in the room, that Y/N should wake up soon… he just didn’t know when. 

When he entered the room, he inhaled a sharp breath seeing her beaten unconscious body laying in the bed with an IV sticking out of her arm along with bandages covering her form. Daryl carefully scooted a chair up to her bed as if he’d wake her, sat down, and held her hand to wait for her to come to. Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Carol, and Hershel each came in throughout the day to check on them both. Carol tried to get Daryl to get some sleep, but he refused, not wanting to leave and have her wake up without him there. She decided not to pick a fight with him and brought him dinner since he hadn’t eaten for the last two days.

He felt someone stroking his hair and he slowly lifted his head to see Y/N smiling at him, he must’ve fallen asleep since the light from outside was beaming in. Daryl jumped and smothered Y/N in a hug and began to cry. She tried instantly wrapped her arms around his torso, not caring if it hurt and tried to shush him, that everything was okay even as her own tears spilled. 

He pulled back with a look of regret as he surveyed her form, afraid he had caused her pain, but she smiled and grabbed his hand to assure him he did anything but. Daryl plopped back in the chair and held her hand in both of his, staring at them with watery eyes before looking back at her. “I almost lost ya,” he whimpered and her heart visibly shattered. 

“I’m sorry-”

“I shoulda never let ya go alone, why’d ya go there ‘n the first place? He sadly more than angrily questioned, he didn’t mean to get after her especially after she almost died, but he had to know. She was close to dying because of this run, so what was it for? 

“I-” She scanned around the room, and locked on a chair with her clothes on it before pointing at it. “Could you get me my pants, please?” Daryl gave her a puzzled look, but didn’t question it as he did what she asked. Y/N patted each pocket trying to find which one contained what she searching for and once she found it, she revealed two banded rings. One had diamonds littered around it and the other was just a silver band, it was so simple yet so beautiful.

Y/N smiled wide and stared at the two pieces of jewelry in her hand, rubbing them with her thumb. “I was a kid when my parents went to that very same jewelry store for something. I don’t know what for, but I remembered seeing these rings and falling in love with them. If I ever found someone that loved me for me and knew that I could spend the rest of my life with, then I imagined, no, I wanted these rings to be ours… and that’s you, Daryl. I had to get them, it meant a lot to me and… it gave me hope that I’d find someone to eventually give this ring to.” She bit her lip as she smiled and shrugged her shoulders before looking at him with hope. “So Daryl Dixon, will you marry me?” 

Daryl tried his best to answer, but he ended up choking on his words every time. He nodded his head since he couldn’t form words and Y/N’s smile went even wider as she went to slide the band on his finger and gave him hers so he could do the same. They embraced each other and when Y/N went to pull away, Daryl captured her lips with his. “Mhmm- does this mean we’re husband and wife instantly since the world ended?” 

The archer hummed to think about it and shrugged his shoulders as he smiled. “That’s up ta ya. Do ya want a ceremony?” Y/N brushed the loose strands of hair out of his face and caressed his cheek. “Everyone knows how much we love each other- we know how much we love each other, so shall we tell them the news, Mr. Dixon?” She teased, earning a chuckle from her husband. 

“I think we should, Mrs. Dixon.”

_____________________________________

MASTERLIST 

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! If you’d like to added or removed from the tags don’t hesitate to send me an ask or message! <3

Taglist: @jodiereedus22 @sourwolf-sterek32 @haleypearce @gruffle1 @lonewolf471 @dashesoflipstick @aristocracy-y

[nicolewoo]

Yo, Jamie!!! It’s almost done.

Pairing: King Roman Reigns X Female reader

Warnings: None

My average day was a controlled chaos. Everyone wanted an audience with the king, and I had to know what issues were pressing, which nobles I could and couldn’t talk to, and a million other details. All of these things weighed on me daily. Now, with my mother and the church pressing me to take a bride, I’d reached a breaking point.

 After I had yelled at a servant for no reason, Charles the Lord of Sussex and my most trusted advisor and friend, suggested we take a few hours to go riding this morning. He’d been right, too. A few hours away from the castle and the nobles was exactly what I needed.

 We’d tried to slip out before the sun rose so we could avoid anyone, but as we prepared to leave the grounds, the Captain of the Guard saw us. Christopher was a tall lanky man with almost no hair anymore and an unfortunate habit of rubbing his face when he was nervous. Now, as he insisted that the king should not ride un-escorted, his hand brushed over his face repeatedly.

 “Your highness, we have hundreds of nobles arriving this week. I’m afraid there will be more thieves in the forest. I’ve got plenty of guards on the road, but if you’ll be avoiding the road,” he eyed me suspiciously, knowing I never stayed on the road, “I insist you take a couple of guards.”

I begrudgingly agreed but told the guards to stay far back from us unless we encountered other people.

Charles and I enjoyed a very peaceful ride, stopping once for a cleansing swim in a river and to eat some bread and cheese Charles packed. “My friend, you’ve done me a great service today.” I said as I lounged shirtless on a patch of grass soaking in the sun.

 Charles cocked his head a bit as if surprised to hear a compliment. “It’s my pleasure, sire. You needed a break.”

 “I guess we should head back.” I admitted as I stood and finished getting dressed. Charles finished a minute before me and packed up the rest of the food. Once mounted on my horse, I hesitated to leave. “I wish I could do this every day, like we did when we were kids.”

 Charles smiled at me. “You were never destined to a life of leisure, Your Highness. God chose you to be a wise and fair king who is building a greater country and a greater world.” He whistled to the guards I’d forgotten were even with us, and they mounted their horses to follow us. “Besides, you’d be miserable if you lived a quiet, boring life.” We both laughed.

 Finding a slow trot, Charles and I continued talking, mostly about Charles’s sexual conquests. As a young, unmarried titled man, he had his choice of lovers in the court, and none of them ever kept his attention for more than a few months. Knowing I’d be married off one day in a probable political move, I’d chosen to be much less adventurous. I’d enjoyed the affections of a couple of women, but I never knew if it was because they liked me or the idea of becoming a queen. Now that I was king, I was too busy, too stressed, too careful. I noticed the ladies at court. There were a couple of fetching noble women, but none that sparked anything even close to passion.

 I knew it was time to marry. I wanted to get married, but for love. Instead, women from around the world were invading my castle, and I was to meet every single one of them in a week-long quest to find a wife. Not only would my attendance be necessary at every meal and every social occasion, I was to meet each potential candidate in person and in private (with a chaperone), a task I was dreading. Meeting after meeting of women throwing themselves at my feet trying to become the next queen.

 “Are you ok, highness?” Charles’s voice broke me out of my worry.

 “Just thinking about this week.” I admitted to him.

 Charles thought for a moment before talking. “I envy you. You’ll have your choice of women. If I were you, I’d bed whichever ones I wanted. You could have a wife and mistress by the end of the week.”

 Of course, he was excited about the prospect of more women at court. “My friend, I believe you’re going to bed many of them this week.” I chuckled.

 Charles laughed with me, “Not until Your Royal Highness has ruled them out as your future queen.”

 “Well then, I’ve finally found the worth of being a king. I don’t have to accept your discarded women.” I stopped my horse at a river so both of us could drink. Charles pulled up besides us and jumped off his horse too.

 Charles’s laugh rang out over the forest. “Would that be so bad?”

 “Your prowess is well known, and I’ve seen ladies after you’ve spent an evening with them. I’d be afraid I’d disappoint.” I said.

 Charles smiled shyly. “Sire, you know whomever you choose must be pure.”

 I laughed now, “Are there any pure women anymore?”

 “On my oath sire, I’ve tried to ensure there are no virgins in this country. That’s why we are importing new virgins from other countries to meet you.” Charles teased before becoming serious. “I have a great feeling about this week, sire. I honestly think you’ll meet a fetching young bride from some exotic country that needs an alliance with us and you’ll find some measure of joy in your marriage.”

 “An alliance?” I looked down in disappointment and patted my mare on the neck reassuringly. “I’m afraid that’s all my marriage will be about.”

 “I’m telling you sire,” Charles said as he bent low to fill his water skin, “I believe you will find someone who will give you a cordial marriage.”

 “Cordial? I guess love is too much to hope for.” I hopped back on my horse.

 Charles mounted his horse too and we began a slow trot through the woods. “That’s what the mistress is for.” I knew he was jesting, but the seriousness of the whole situation fell on me again as we rode.

 Why was I forbidden to marry for love? Why was I born to be king? “Let’s speak of other things. Our ride was supposed to distract me.”

  Charles was always quick to raise my spirits. “The delegation from the Arabian Peninsula is bringing you a dozen stallions when they arrive. It’s said their horses are the best.”

At my happy expression he continued. “As soon as they arrive, I’ll let you know. Maybe you can find a few free moments to go see them.”

That sounded great. “Thank you. Not just for letting me know when the horses arrive. Thank you  for today. I needed this.” Charles gave me a respectful nod as his answer. I inhaled the forest air, trying to etch the memory of it into my mind to carry me through this busy week.

“Care to race, Your Highness?” Charles challenged. I didn’t answer but tapped my horse’s side to gallop full speed. I heard Charle’s call of “Not fair.” As I took the lead. He caught up quickly and we raced for a long while.

Realizing I was only hastening my journey back to the castle and my royal obligations, I slowed us down again and we rode in silence for a few short minutes before we heard the ping of metal hitting metal.

“Let the guards go first” Charles suggested.

Metal on metal usually meant swords, so I agreed. I motioned to the guards, and they rode ahead of us for a minute. As we neared the top of a hill, one of the guards motioned that it was safe. I looked ahead and saw a carriage with a wheel off on the King’s Road. “Let’s go help.” I said to the guards.

Peter, a thin young guard with messy hair and a patchy beard answered. “Your Highness, I can take care of this.” He motioned to the younger guard next to him. “William can protect you on the way to the castle if you’d like.”

In that carriage was surely one of my potential brides coming to the castle to meet with me. Yes, I wanted to escape, but maybe I could sneak a peek. If she was fetching, it could go a long way to easing my fears. If she was unattractive, at least I’d be prepared for my meeting with her. I trotted closer to the guard and took in the whole scene in front of me.

Not only had the wheel fallen off; it was stuck under the now emptied carriage. The ladies in waiting and an elderly man I assumed was the driver were seated on a blanket off to the side while what seemed to be the lady of the carriage tried to lift the vehicle.

She’d managed to get a small log on a rock and was trying to pry the carriage up using her body weight. It wasn’t working, but from where I was standing, I got a full view of a truly amazing bottom swaying with her efforts. I was so amused, I pondered not offering her help just to see how she’d do.

 Just as I was about to speak, she defiantly stuck her chin out and looked around my guards locking her eyes on me. “Must I ask for assistance or will it be offered?” She spit the words out like weapons.

 She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, despite the dirt all over her and hair falling out of it’s restrains and trailing down her neck. Her dress was beautiful despite the oil and dirt covering it. It was wrecked though.  

 She dabbed at some sweat on her forehead with a ragged piece of cloth and ended up smearing dirt on her face.

 Charles leaned forward a bit, “It will do you well to watch your tone in front of...”

 I interrupted, “The Lord of Sussex.” I had stolen Charles’s title, and he gaped after me in confusion. I shot him a look that convinced him to keep quiet.

 She seemed more contrite now. “My apologies, My Lord.” She curtsied a bit.

 I smiled down at her. “Think nothing of it.” I looked at Charles now. “Mister Brandon, Shall we assist this damsel in distress?”

 Charles smiled. “Yes your Lordship.” We dismounted and handed the reigns of our horses to the elderly driver.

 We made short work of lifting and replacing the wheel. After a quick survey of the road, the guards found a missing bolt. With that in place, the carriage would be fine.  

 “Why have I not seen you in court?” I asked as I held the carriage still While Charles and the guards.

 She exhaled haughtily “I’m afraid I’m not very welcome at court, nor do I care to go to court.”

 I lifted my brow “And why is that my lady?” I tried to suppress a laugh. She was so direct, so plain-spoken, unlike most of the women at court. Court could probably do well to have some women with backbones like her. It would at least make court more interesting.

  “I have an unfortunate habit of telling the truth.” I laughed hnow. Seeing that I was genuinely amused, Charles relaxed and laughed too.

 “Well now, telling the truth is a virtue, even at court.” I smiled as Charles chuckled under his breath.

 “My Lord, I’ve seen many things in court, but virtue isn’t one of them.”

I leveled her with my gaze. “Are you saying The King lacks virtue?”

 I caught a brief glimpse of annoyance in her voice.  “I said nothing of the kind!”

 “Are you saying the courtiers are without virtue?” I asked.

She blanched when she realized that as a Lord, I could be a regular at the palace. “My apologies My Lord. No. I simply meant that matters of piety are not a priority to all who attend the court.”

 I glanced over at Charles who was laughing under his breath at her stubbornness.” This is a fun game and one I didn’t want to end just yet.

 “Well, gentle lady, would 2 non-virtuous gentlemen of The King’s Court offer their assistance to a lady in distress?” I asked as I gestured to her now repaired carriage.

 “I tell you truly, sirs, that many in His Magesty’s Court would not assist, but to serve their own purposes.”

 I walked a step closer to her in a show of power, but instead of looking away, she stared me straight in the eye defiantly. “And what, pray tell, do I have to gain from helping you today?”

 “My Lord, I didn’t mean any offence to you or your friend.” She nodded to our party. “You have indeed done me a great favor today.”

 Was she finally breaking? “And what have I asked in return?”

 She smiled now. She was breathtaking when she smiled.

 @mindofasagitarius   @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire

[kob131]

https://rwdestuffs.tumblr.com/post/625369121618640896/done-dirty-gods

I’d like to make the point that the light god, the dude who killed Oz repeatedly and abused Salem to the point that she became the villainous being that we know today, is somehow on the “Heroes Wiki.”

You know, not like she demanded special treatment, tried going behind his back and tried to destroy him and his brother all because she demanded that the cycle of death not apply to who she wants.

Because I guess abusers are heroes now.

Says the creator of the ‘Savivor Mom Raven’ series.

Oh, and also, I HAD TO USE GODDAMN SOUTH PARK AS PART OF MY OPENER!

Incorrectly might I add as both the Light and Dark gods are not portrayed as directly opposing each other. So you’re mad you ‘had’ to use a show’s meme...incorrectly.

Let’s get this out of the way for any of idiots out there: Salem was NOT responsible for Humanity 1.0′s death. She may have provoked these two asshats, but she wasn’t the one who

1: Loaded the gun.

2: Aimed the gun.

3: Fired the gun.

By the same logic, people say Yang murdered Adam. How does that go with you again?

What did Salem do?- She just stood up to them and, inadvertently, gave them a target. 

She directly lied to the first iteration of humanity after being punished for lying to the gods and being directly told she shouldn’t have done that all over demanding her husband be brought back to life even though God knows how many people die and aren’t brought back by the gods despite having just as much reason to want them back as Salem.

As far as I’m concerned, these gods were the villains of the story, and what I wouldn’t give to see Yang punch one of them in the face.

Probably because it’s a penis vs. vagina for you.

When making these “Godly” characters, it’s okay to give them flaws. In fact, that’s what makes the Greek Gods, Norse Gods, Japanese Gods, and Egyptian Gods so interesting. They have flaws, weaknesses, and more relatable personality aspects that makes it seem like we could have the guy responsible for the ocean’s tides as our next door neighbor, or the adorable little dog across the street as the one responsible for the sun coming up… and beating up a fish in a giant mech suit. Goddamn, I want to play Okami again.

I got off-topic. The point is, is that it’s okay for these Gods to give flawed advice… Provided that they gave advice at all.

See, Light God was insensitive to Salem’s plight, and in all likelihood, used the same rhetoric that her father used to lock her up in that tower as an excuse to just brush her off.

Salem: (falling to her knees) Please... Please, bring him back to me.

God of Light: I understand your pain, but you demand of me that which I cannot make so. Life and death are part of a delicate balance.

Such terrible rhetoric.

BTW, funny how you mention the Greek Gods. You want to know what the role of most Greek Gods are in their home myths?

Living Embodiments of Punishing Pride.

Helena Of Troy’s mother, Narcassist and Echo, Odysseus, Arachne, Midas-

Most of the targets of the gods were people who dared to act arrogant and like they were better/deserved more with the Gods smiting them for their fatal sin. Even the Gods themselves weren’t exempt from this, as many of them fell prey to their own pride and arrogance with the few (mostly) unscathed Gods being that way because they were significantly less prideful. Fuck, the Greek Gods came to be because Chronos was so cocky he could just eat his kids that it never occurred to him that his wife Rhea would trick him.

In fact, an always noteworthy story I remember was the tale of Orpheus and Euradyice, where a man traveled to the Underworld using his musical talents and demanded to have his wife brought back to life. It ALMOST didn’t work but he was just able to convince Hades on the condition that he not turn back on his way home. Spoiler Alert, he did out of a lack of faith in Hades, his wife WAS following him but he lost her because of it.

I bring this up because the Greek Gods were the INSPIRATION for the Brothers and I’d bet dollars to donuts that Orpheus’ tale was the inspiration for Salem and Ozma. You try to act like you know something about these things but completely ignore that hubris, the thing that fucked Salem over, was a running theme in the source of her backstory.

So when Salem goes to Dark God, and he does fulfill her request, it’s honestly like Salem is now picking a side. Except, it turns out that Dark God actually has to answer to the Light God.

God of Light: I know we have our differences, but I have not come here with the aim to control you. The same, however, cannot said for her. This woman came to you only after I denied her pleas – pleas that would have disrupted the balance that you and I created. Together.

The younger brother ponders this revelation.

God of Darkness: Then it seems I owe you an apology. Allow me to correct my mistake.

No he doesn’t. But nice cut context.

Does the relationship between the gods seem… manipulative to anyone? Like… The Light God (Fuck it, let’s call him “Lumin” for now, I’m not typing out that whole thing) is abusive to his brother?

Considering what I quoted above- Nope.

Acording to… I think it was Qrow, possibly in a WOR, the Dark God (Let’s call him “Ebon” because that’s a badass name, and I’m honestly not in the mood for “Light = Good, Dark = Evil” to be the underlying theme here) made his creations first. then Lumin was all “I can make something too!” and made humans to one-up his brother.

RWBY Volume 4 Episode 8 “A Much Needed Talk”

Qrow: They were two brothers. The older sibling, the God of Light, found joy in creating forces of life. Meanwhile, the younger brother, the God of Darkness, spent his time creating forces of destruction. As you can imagine, they both had pretty different ideas about how things should go. The older one would spend his days creating water, plants, wildlife. And at night, his brother would wake to see all the things that the elder had made and become disgusted. To counteract his brother's creations, the God of Darkness brought drought, fire, famine, all he could do to rid Remnant of life. Life always returned. So one night, the younger brother went and made something - something that shared his innate desire to destroy anything and everything.

Ruby: The creatures of Grimm.

Qrow: You guessed it. The older brother finally had enough. Knowing that their feud couldn't last like this forever, he proposed that they make one final creation... together, something that they could both be proud of, their masterpiece. The younger brother agreed. This last great creation would be given the power to both create and destroy. It would be given the gift of knowledge, so that it could learn about itself and the world around it. And most importantly, it would be given the power to choose, to have free will to take everything it had learned and decide which path to follow - the path of light or the path of darkness. And that is how Humanity came to be.

You misrepresent the show AND got it backwards. The God of Light created things first, then The God of Darkness and Humanity was a joint project.

Why should we consider you at all reliable, especially given how easy it would be to research this?

Like… Does that at all seem healthy to you?

No in fact, The God of Darkness is kind of a jackass. But nice job portraying your delusions as the exact opposite dumbass.

But regardless of that relationship, Lumin basically acted like that one abusive parent who destroys all of the child’s toys just because they went to the other parent to do something that the first parent was callous in denying them to do. Sorry if that brought up any bad memories for people.

More like they took the toy away when the child tricked the other parent into buying it even though the first said no.

Not to mention the relics. Outside of their purpose to resummon the gods, they don’t really do much. But these are literal artifacts left behind by said gods.

Plus, Lumin give Oz an impossible task of uniting humanity. It’s like he wants Oz to fail because he just wants an excuse to wipe them all out again.

How is it impossible when Humanity was united BEFORE SALEM?

Lumin treats humankind as an “experiment gone wrong” as if he’s just playing with peoples’ lives for his own amusement. If anything, Ebon is more sympathetic because he actually listens to their problems and wants to help them out.

Yeah-

The God of Darkness created the Grimm that make Remnant such a horrible place to live and was the one that killed all of humanity.

God of Darkness: My own gift to them... used against me.

The God of Light looks away in disappointment as the God of Darkness squeezes the sphere within his hand, creating a massive shockwave that envelops the world, smiting everything and everyone in its path. Humanity has been turned to dust, only Salem remains due to her immortality.

How is he more sympathetic?

Meanwhile Lumin is all “Sucks that your man died. Now get out.” at best.

We get it- You’re delusional.

Let’s take a look at another set of flawed gods in the form of The Norse Pantheon. Namely, Odin, Loki, and Thor. In myth, these guys were all given tasks that were basically impossible. Thor was tasked with drinking the ocean, and failed. Odin wrestled with time, and was brought down. And Loki lost an eating contest to fire. These flaws and weaknesses in regards to their hubris are part of them.

Meanwhile, Apollo lost a love to Eros because he said that he couldn’t shoot as well as him but I guess you’d assume Eros was the bad guy.

I mentioned this briefly in my “Done dirty: Oz” post, but Oz was basically brought back to cause conflict. Because… I guess Lumin was bored?

Or you know- a second chance to have the gifts of the Brothers again.

But the narrative wants people to see that Lumin and Ebon are “All good. All caring. And all knowing.”

Which is a load of bullshit. The narrative tries to paint Salem as some unsympathetic witch who couldn’t let go. When…

1: The woman was abused and locked in a tower until Oz came to rescue her.

2: She was willing to fight God to get him back. If anything, that shows true love. If you want my opinion, if you’re not willing to deck a deity in the nose for your loved one, then you don’t care about them (Take that, Abraham. Willing to sacrificing your own son just because your God told you to. Bet you wouldn’t see that from Amaterasu).

1. Doesn’t matter. There have to be people living just as bad if not WORSE than Salem and lost loved ones- it’s literally the rules EVERYONE has to abide by.

2. No, she tried to fight two gods because she was pissy. She never tried to fight them until AFTER lying to the God of Darkness and lead people to their deaths. All in the name of a legendary HERO, someone who WOULDN’T want to be brought back after all this death.

What I’m saying is that these gods are detached. Which would be an interesting aspect if the narrative had bothered to show that as being a bad thing.

So were the Greek Gods. Not the point of either one.

Then again, this is all being told by Jinn, a creation of the Gods (Namely Lumin). So maybe there’s some bias in there where they’re trying to make Salem out to be irredeemable while the gods are the undisputed good guys- and holy SHIT!- Jinn’s in on the gaslighting. 

i mean… I still want everyone to eventually realize that Salem was gaslighted into being the villain of the story. because that sounds way better than the “Abused woman lashes out and becomes evil” angle that they seem to be going at.

Yeah and Adam was branded. Guess that means you think Adam was in right to chop off Yang’s arm then.

Funny thing there- You literally can’t redeem Adam OR Salem and keep the other evil without looking hypocritical because they committed the SAME FUCKING SINS.

But given the writers’ ability to handle racism (or lack thereof), I don’t exactly have a lot of confidence in this.

Way to reference the plotline with the walking counter example in it.

Then again, the did call her Salem…

… But also again, they did write the WF plot as that horrible mess…

But they also looked into a lot of fairy tale aspects for their characters…

While you didn’t do a lick of research or else you’d know the shit about the Greek Gods.

Then again, you couldn’t even be bothered to confirm the shit about the Brothers even as you openly say ‘I don’t remember this clearly.’ So what really should I expect?

[zetalial]

Maria Ross (FMA 2003)

Hey, there’s nothing I love more than being requested to talk about FMA. This post is for @thornstone8773, who believes that Maria Ross needs some more love from the fandom. I agree.

Maria Ross is lovely. She’s introduced in Episode 18, which is while Ed’s studying Marcoh’s notes and she immediately gets into conflict with him. She sees Ed’s complete lack of concern for his own safety to be an issue when she’s been tasked with protecting him. 

But it’s not just her job that compels her to care for the Elric brothers. She sees them as lost children getting in over their heads and needing someone to look after them. And she’s fully prepared to step into the role herself - whether Ed likes it or not.

Throughout this episode, she and Ed conflict with each other, Ross gets irritated at his impulsiveness and gets angry when he insists on working in the library where she isn’t able to provide him proper protection. Ed refuses to listen to her and he’s not obliged to (due to his rank as State Alchemist). He’s been dismissing her and Denny Broche repeatedly and very much sees bodyguards as another hindrance to his goals - another thing forced on him. (Ed sees the Military as a necessary evil.)

 So, Maria talks to Hughes about it instead. And nice as Hughes might be towards Ed, consistently helping him where others wouldn’t, Hughes takes Ross’s side in their argument. 

Hughes is often bending the rules for Ed and Al, he told them about how Scar killed Nina, offered him case files when Ed was investigating Barry, and helped him fight the terrorists on the train. Ed was fully expecting Hughes to be on his side. And Hughes knows it too - he doesn’t like denying them. But he cares about their safety too and recognises that Maria Ross cares.

Ross inquires about why Hughes would let them chase after the Philosopher’s stone at all and Hughes offers some nice insight. Ed and Al would chase after it regardless of whether he let them or not. By helping them, he is able to better protect them and, uniquely among the military, has Ed and Al’s trust. (Because Ed certainly doesn’t trust Mustang at this point in the series.) 

Additionally, Hughes says that the State’s future is in their hands. That he and Ross have a duty to enable them to research into the Philosopher’s stone. Clearly, Hughes recognises the importance of their quest and is already looking into the bigger picture. Looking into it further is dangerous, as Hughes will soon learn though. Ross doesn’t like this but accepts it. From here, she’s more actively supporting their endeavours.

In the next episode, the Truth behind Truths, Ed has found out the secret of the Philosopher’s stone and wants to just give up. It’s practically what Ross was aiming for an episode ago but now she actively encourages him to continue searching, citing the importance of it, how it goes beyond their own personal goals.  

Like, Ed wanted to make a stone to save his brother but after learning the cost, he realises he can’t go through with this any more. But he’s also finding out a lot about the military’s corruption and how the stone has been used in Ishval. There is more to look into, namely Lab 5 and what lies at the heart of this conspiracy. Ross encourages Ed to continue looking even if they themselves won’t gain anything from it because there is more to learn. He can’t let himself be turned away because he doesn’t like the answers he’s getting. Ross recognises he’s scared and still essentially a child, but encourages him anyway. It’s a great scene.

When Ed finds his determination once more, Ross gives this smile, like she’s proud of them.

‘Course Ed and Al still don’t trust her fully yet, though he did share his conclusions concerning Lab 5 with her. Ross promised to use the military to look into it but Ed and Al decide to sneak out. 

I try not to bring up BH too much in comparison so... sorry. But the two different responses from their respective Maria Ross’s highlight their differences. When BH Broche and Ross discover the boys have snuck out, they’re comically worried and don’t want anyone to find out they lost track of the boys as it might get them into trouble. They’re concerned about the Elrics too, yes, but also themselves. 

Maria Ross in 03, meanwhile, looks betrayed to find they’ve snuck out and informs Hughes. He agrees to authorise a military sweep of the abandoned Laboratory, getting a bunch of other soldiers, including Armstrong involved even though it’s the middle of the night. Fuhrer Bradley actually runs into them and goes along with it (likely realising it would be too suspicious to deny their operation.) 

Upon entering Lab 5, Ross finds Ed in the red room and bravely wades into the room to calm him down. He had absorbed incomplete stone material and was in great danger of some sort of alchemic backlash as he was unable to control all that energy. Even Armstrong seemed to think it was too dangerous to go near him. Maria Ross calms him with a motherly hug, likely the first Ed had received in a long time. 

In the aftermath of Lab 5, Ross confronts Ed, slapping him when he tries to brush the whole incident off. She asks him to try and start trusting adults more and he agrees, apologising for some of his reckless behaviour. It’s a good start to an episode about opening up emotionally. 

Ed and Al leave for Dublith so Ross doesn’t show up much more for a while. In Episode 38, she spots Winry and Sheska eavesdropping in Central and helps them out against Sloth, where they reveal some of what they’re learning to them. Ross is quite observant to have noticed Winry there and this nicely leads into Ross’s next significant appearance.

When she hears Ed and Al are on the run from the military, she and Broche decide to have an abrupt ‘vacation’ in Risembool. She tells Winry and Sheska how Ed and Al are wanted by the military and how she doesn’t believe it. Here we see Ross actively going against the military she’s a part of. 

And then again, when she hears news that Ed and Al have been arrested by the military, she goes to break them out. That’s direct action against the military. It’s really the Tringham brothers she ends up saving but they run into Ed and Izumi again anyway and Maria ends up actively fighting against Archer, who pretty much represents some of the worst of the Military while she’s basically become a rebel.

The epilogue shows her working in the new Government now that the Military state has been overthrown. She seems fairly busy so there’s a lot being done. She’s clearly doing the best for the State’s future.

So, all in all, Maria Ross is a character who has the Elric brother’s best interests at heart. She’s a part of the military but she’s nice and goes beyond her duty for them. She represents the best parts of it - the good people working within it who care and want to protect others. Unlike everyone else, she still sees the Elrics as children and tries to encourage Edward to trust her. 

She is very principled and when she disagrees with something she will not stand for it. She does not let Edward get away with whatever he wants, she’s ready to question Hughes and she’s ready to question the Military too. Ultimately, her intentions are good and it’s a greatly encouraging sign to see her and Broche and Sheska working in the reformed State.   

[doomedandstoned]

FAMYNE

~Songs in the Night~

Interview & Photographs by Angelique Le Marchand

I am wrestling with all the crap in my pockets for ages as my mobile goes off on a London double-decker bus. I just missed a call, and it’s neither my bestie nor a robot calling to offer me PPI. It’s Jake Cook drummer for the band FAMYNE calling to finalise our plans to meet up for an interview in Camden, just before the band’s gig at The Black Heart. This proper phone call feels like such a good omen. It is refreshing to come across someone like Jake, who doesn’t solely rely on texts or emails nowadays.

As I had feared, my quest for a reasonably quiet room suitable for recording the interview is not fruitful, and the initial plan of booking a copacetic space ahead of time was impeded by the band’s busy schedule prior to tonight's show. As a result, all seven of us decide to make the band’s tour bus our "office" for the duration of our discussion. Parked outside the venue, it’s perfect -- quiet and well lit, with plenty of armrests to prop pints of cider on (the band’s drink of choice).

Famyne is:

Tom Vane (vox)

Jake Cook (drums)

Martin Emmons (rhythm guitar)

Chris Travers (bass)

Alex Tolson (lead guitar)

Justin Crouch (silent member and head roadie)

Famyne by Famyne

Origins

The Canterbury doomers were inspired by Opeth’s song "Famine" to name their band. The song is an extract from the pivotal album 'Heritage' (2014), which Famyne’s founding members have a predilection for, and although their taste in music stems from a variety of influences, all five share an admiration for the Swedish prog-metal legends.

At the time that Famyne were formed, Tom was studying the history of English as part of his undergraduate degree, which played a big part in personalising the band’s name. The spelling is a reference to orthographic variations in Old English, with the vowel "i" being interchanged with “y” depending on your geographical position across the country during the Early Medieval Period.

Like all bands, Famyne went through a great number of possible names before coming up with one that clicked. "It’s like naming a baby almost," says Tom. "You think of how people could take the piss out of it. In that case, no. Let’s not be called that." Their search had to be brought to a halt when the band was offered their first gig with Skull Tank and Death Truck Mutiny at their local bar. They already had a set put together, but they still hadn’t decided on a name. They needed to come up with one -- fast -- if anything, for the gig’s promotion poster. "Famyne seemed to fit," recalls Jake.

Famyne underwent several changes before progressing to their final line-up. The band was initially put together by founding members Jake on drums, Tom on vocals, and first lead guitarist, Wesley. Wesley departed the band after their first show in October of 2014, as he was unable to commit to an increasingly busy live schedule. Jake slowly met the other members of Famyne in local pubs, including bassist Chris Travers. Both admit having no clear recollection of their first encounter due to the consumption of large amounts of alcohol, although the legend goes that Chris may have been found headbanging on his own at either The Cherry Tree or The Foundry in Canterbury.

Jake also met lead guitarist Alex Tolson in a Canterbury bar. Alex was invited to one of the band’s practice after making a big impression at one of his early live performances. He was instantly enthused to becoming part of the project, interestingly bringing with him some amps specially built for Famyne by his father. Alex Williams and Alex Johns successively played rhythm guitar, with Johns serving as long-standing guitarist for two-and-a-half years, although he never officially committed as a full-on member of the band.

As touring and the release of Famyne’s debut album required a more permanent rhythm guitarist, it felt a natural progression for Martin Emmons to complete the line-up, and he made his first live appearance as official member of the band at The UCA Bar in Canterbury on the 29th of June 2018. Martin, who has known Jake since he was 14 years old, is another eminent musician on the Canterbury scene. His prog-punk band Witchdoctor shared stage with Famyne several times, and he stood-in for Johns at some of Famyne’s shows, enabling a very smooth transition. To date, Martin continues to play with Witchdoctor and they are currently working on new material.

Guilty Pleasures

Having a peep at somebody’s music collection is a quick way of breaking the ice and getting to know them better. But picking out unexpected pieces is even more interesting as it helps defining their quirkiness, so I am curious about surprising records that may be dotting the bandmates’ personal collections. Jeff Beck’s guitar play and the way he becomes one with his instrument are an inspiration for Alex. At the moment, he is also digging Funkadelic for their fusion of funk, rock and metal. Tom’s revelation that Cocteau Twins and The Cure -- with attention to Disintegration -- get a regular spin, is coherent with some of the discrete brush strokes of post- punk in Famyne’s outputs. In his own words, Martin likes a lot of "weird shit." Quite a range on the spectrum in fact, from math rock to Zappa and King Crimson, with Cardiacs being top of his list of weird.

Although the bandmates tease the head (and only) roadie Justin that he has no choice but to listen to Famyne, he manages to explain that he is also a nü-metal fan, particularly enjoying Korn and Slipknot. Chris cites "Voulez-Vous" by Abba as one of his guilty pleasures. A single that he does own and that gets blasted in his living room, together with a lot of doom. His disclosure is met with roars of laughter from the rest of the band, but a spirited approval from me as a fellow owner of Abba’s records. If you’re going to indulge in unpretentious pop, you may as well listen to the good shit. But Chris currently also listens to a lot of Uncle Acid and the deadbeats, as well as 1000mods, and some early Metallica. Time to turn to Jake and ask him about any records in his collection that may surprise our readers.

Jake: "I’ve become a very big Ghost fan."

The "office" erupts in a huge scream. I’m ashamed to say, I suddenly forget my place. I catch myself curled up in fetal position, repeatedly punching my knees. In stitches, Alex and Martin, have completely disappeared behind their seats, while Justin is crying so hard that he looks dangerously close to having a fit. Chris briefly recovers to come to my rescue with a sympathetic handshake and a piercing "Yesssss!!! Her, too!!!" Jake is a man who will stand by his convictions, and he calmly continues.

Jake: "I know there’s a lot..." (interrupted by more laughter).

Tom: "He’s always trying to play it at parties and stuff."

Jake: "Well, say what you will but they influence me, it’s a band I like. I can’t argue with the thousands of turns up at shows."

Tom: "Yeah, you can say that about Britney Spears."

Jake redeems himself by talking us through his boundless admiration for Opeth. Then comes the revelation that he also recently acquired a soft spot for The Darkness.

Chris: "Because you can hit those notes!"

Jake (grinning): "Of course, I’m a very impressive singer actually!"

Chris proceeds to entertain us with a superb impersonation of Justin Hawkins, beating Jake to it.

No Stone Left Unturned

It’s difficult to listen to Famyne’s debut album and pick just the one favourite song, and one that would remain such as set in stone. All of them sound so unique, yet they work harmoniously juxtaposed in an album. In just over four years in existence, the band have already created a signature sound that, within split seconds of a first listen, is capable of prompting inner-monologues running along the lines of: "Ah, I recognise this...it’s Famyne."

Describing their own sound and uniqueness is not an easy task for a band. Famyne are self-aware about revealing their personal thoughts on the subject as they are interested in their listeners’ interpretations without influencing them. "Famyne is Famyne," says Jake. "We all have one central point that we’re influenced by, and that is doom. That’s why we all come together." Doom may be the binding agent of their sound, but the bandmates’ varied musical influences prevented them from falling too rigidly within the frames of the genre.

Famyne EP by Famyne

"Everything gets thrown in and we knock each other’s ideas," adds Jake, "we’ll change this and we’ll add this, and it all gets messed around." "We do what we like to do," explains Chris. "What appeals to us and what we think sounds good. No stone is left unturned, for sure." If the bandmates agree on the importance of sounding different, their self-awareness guards them from placing this thought process before the quality of their songwriting. "I wouldn’t say we try specifically to sound different," Jake says. "We don’t do it at the expense of the song," adds Tom. "The song needs to feel right, it needs to flow."

Working in a super-tight collaborative way plays a big part in sounding unique, but Tom pushes the concept further by explaining how Famyne work as a true democratic band. "Let’s say someone is really passionate about how a song needs to be. It doesn’t matter how passionate they are if four of us disagree, it’s not going to happen."

"There is a good mixture of the heart and the head in the direction of the band," he adds. Tom’s vocals stand out as a distinctive piece of the jigsaw defining Famyne’s unique sound. "I know that my vocals aren’t the same as everyone else’s," he reflects. "It’s definitely influenced by a range of different artists. Every time I sing something, I kind of have a meter in my head saying: how predictable is this? I don’t want it to be so predictable, but I also want it to feel right."

With an imposing vocal range technically flawless on record, his precision on stage singes a lasting impression. As Tom reveals that he was stage trained, his ease suddenly makes perfect sense; he has been singing since the age of four, working in musicals in several different countries as well as in the West End. Having gained a lot of singing practice from such a young age certainly shows.

‘No one really knows the whole full story of how we got this album put together’

Famyne released their self- titled, first full- length in September 2018. The band recorded the album over four different studios, each chosen to craft a specific sound envisioned not only for the band’s vocal parts and own instruments, but also for guest string musicians Cat Ledgerwood (cello) and Karen Jolliffe (violin/ viola).

Every single detail gone into putting the album together was overseen by the band themselves. As there is a heartfelt abundance of detail, it’s surprising to hear that the album was entirely self-funded. Producing such an accomplished piece with no backing financial support strikes as a respectable tour de force, and a good measure of the passion that Famyne poured into their output.

While the bandmates pride themselves in their independence, discussing recording their new album also spurs on memories of considerable hardship. "We’ve gone to do what we do, we’ve just gone for it no matter what," says Chris. "No one really knows the whole full story of how we got this album put together and our struggle in places, especially financially, sometimes. But no matter what, we just spent the money to do it. If it needs to be changed, and that means another day in the studio for this little bit, it doesn’t fucking matter. We’re doing it."

Tom composed the lyrics and cites Neil Peart as influential on his writing process. He likes the way the Rush’s lyricist produces massive songs that develop into concept albums. Tom observes that he may be perceived as goobledegooking the lyrics, but he does in fact put a lot of thought into them. I suggest that the atmosphere and themes developed have a feel of the poètes maudits from the 19th Century, but the texts are in fact quite personal. "It’s a mixture of philosophy, and fear, and also just honesty. These three things are what are behind a lot of my lyrics, a lot of the time," says Tom.

The album comes beautifully presented with an ongoing monochrome theme. A refined band shot by photographer Phill Morgan adorns the inner sleeve, while Russian artist Vergvoktre was commissioned to create a dramatic tryptic, reminiscent of Romanticism and the engravings of Gustave Doré. Vergvoktre featured the city of Canterbury on the front panel as Famyne are close to their local roots and heritage, as well as being inspired by the Canterbury sound and scene.

This is a feel they wanted to represent in the album’s artwork. "We don’t know much about the guy," says Tom about Vergvoktre. "He’s somewhat mysterious. We had these ideas for four panels that were interconnected and when put together, provided a kind of 360 degrees feel, which is why they blend together if you put them next to each other."   "Like a Famyne lampshade!" Jake adds, prompting laughs and my comment that they could easily sell those in Ikea. "We could brand that," he adds, "We need to go to Stockholm, boys!"

On point with their natural attention to detail, the band put a lot of planning into the artwork’s commission, carefully assembling ideas and atmospheres inspired by different sections of Vergvoktre’s existing pieces. This resulted in a thorough brief emailed over to Vergvoktre, comprised of themes and pictures. "As well as stick man drawings!" photobombs Chris, with his customary wit. "If you looked at it, you’d see the difference. It’s like a very young child’s drawing and then we just said, do your thing, dude! He did it justice, I’d say."

"The best gig for me is when you see people mouthing the words as I’m singing."

Tom should be pleased with tonight’s show at The Black Heart, and both "Slave Ship" and "Grand Majesty" were particularly notable in prompting this very reaction in the audience. Slightly unusual for any band opening up on any night, but truly remarkable given that "Grand Majesty" hasn’t even been released. Enquiries on reasons why the empyrean song hasn’t been committed to record yet are met with a shroud of mystery: Famyne may have some surprises in store for us.

Film by Mathijs Kooij of VoidManiac

The band’s presence live has increased tenfold over the past couple of years, with Bloodstock already under their belt. Despite being a relative young band, Famyne are steadily growing a legion of converts thanks to their sterling musicianship combined with their trademark neck brace-inducing energy.

Over the past few months, on top of recording and releasing their debut album, somehow the bandmates found the time to play a sizeable number of dates in the UK, as well as across eight different countries on the Old Continent. Playing Into The Void last year in The Netherlands and Germany for the first time were highlights for them. "The thing that was good about the tour was playing in places we’d never played and being busy," says Jake. "Beautiful place, beautiful people -- really beautiful people. Everyone was really ready to get down. The set went really well," Chris adds about Karlsruhe. "We had space on stage so we got to do our thing a bit more." Witnessing Chris fiendishly jumping on stage twenty minutes later will enlighten on the latter detail being of importance to him. It comes as a relief that live, his bandmates have apparently become very good at dodging -- although Martin still has room for improvement.

Touring, Tiger Bread, and Transport Police

One of my favourite questions to ask a band is if they have any unusual items on their riders, as it usually prompts some interesting responses. "We like to have uncut tiger bread," Jake starts off. "It hasn’t turned up once," adds Chris, solemn. The band’s need for starchy food was once covered by their promoter in Austria. He once baked a Famyne cake for Martin’s birthday and decorated it with the name of the band. Two of the letters were missing, though, as the cake turned out to be quite small. It’s the thought that counts, as they say.

Film by Mathijs Kooij of VoidManiac

As the band’s reach progresses and their touring schedules grow, so do their riders. They are appreciative of folks putting them on in the first place, but they don’t expect anything outside of the essentials. "I think we don’t want to put people into too much trouble, as we don’t want to inconvenience them," Tom says. "It’s unnecessary crap for us. All we want is some food, we want some alcohol, some soft drinks, and a nice printed picture of Bill Ward," Jake adds, as a nod to Monolord’s response to this very question in a previous Doomed and Stoned interview. "I’ll wait for the day when we get some nice lemon scented towels," says Jake.

Famyne recently came across a band (which they will not name) who was asking for hot lemon-scented towels on their riders for when they came off stage. Although they initially laughed at the extravagant requirement, looking back some of them are finding the idea quite smart. "You know what? You’re a sweaty mess, you’re dying. Shove my face all over a nice, hot lemon-scented towel. That would be fucking nice, actually!" Chris muses. Famyne do love their cider, as I will discover at my expense while naively trying to keep up with them at The Dev in Camden following the interview. It's an experience that will leave me crucified by the cruelest hangover for three days solid. "I think double the amount of cider next time, never enough cider!" concludes Chris.   Terrifying.

Looking at the band’s social media feeds gives the impression that the band are striking the balance right between hard work and brothers-in-arms fun, especially on tour. "We’re in this band not only because we love the music, but because we are friends. We have a good time," says Jake. "We want to play music, we want to travel," Chris chimes in, "so we get to do the best of both while touring."

The band is planning to go back on tour across Europe in May, and they are looking forward to playing in front of fans who have wanted to see them live for some time. They are also planning to revisit places they travelled through in 2018, including Slovenia, where Chris and Justin famously jumped in Lake Bled in their underwear...in the middle of winter. Due to the freezing temperatures at the time, they had to abandon their plans to swim across to the picturesque Bled Island popping out of the lake, with its cliffs mounted by an opulent church and a medieval castle. But Chris is determined to give this another go. "I’m getting to that, I’m swimming to the middle man. I’ve got targets," he says, sparking laughter and cheers.

The tour went really well for the Canterbury doomers, aside from them being chased down the motorway by the Slovenian traffic police. The bandmates were unaware that they had to purchase and display a little sticker before jumping on the carriageway. As their rider was a little slower than the vehicle chasing them, it soon caught up with them, causing quite a fright with a yellow flashing sign demanding that they pull over. A distressing experience for those amongst the passengers who were chilling out by listening to some music, while consuming considerable amounts of alcohol. Fortunately, the incident drew to a close with the payment of a hefty fine then and there, and didn’t affect shows the band were travelling to.

Famyne’s album launch is one of their personal highlights of 2018. The band invited prog-doomer friends Garganjua to open up for them, and the event took place on The Golden Jubilee, a 240-capacity cruiser on London’s river Thames. Why go for the logical choice of Camden venues, when you could have a boat to doom on? Knowing of the financial struggles associated with self-recording their debut album in the months preceding the event, it is quite telling about the bandmates that they should decide to treat their fans to an unusual, lavish party. Not only did the bandmates chip in to book the boat, but they also hired a coach travelling from their home city to London, as they wanted to give something back to all their friends and fans from Canterbury.

On the trip down to London, the coach got packed with party-goers who got in the mood with a couple of drinks (or ten), further relaxed by the thought of safely returning home after the show. Karma must have heard the rumours. As the album launch was popular with fans, the memory wasn’t tarnished by a financial hangover that could have been the albatross dangling from the bandmates’ necks for months to come.

The party sounded like a hell of a lot of fun. Instead of being crammed in a stuffed venue, folks mingled around in the fresh air, admiring iconic London landmarks as the boat sailed on. It must have been quite a sight for those tourists perched on London bridges. Attracted to look over by waves of extreme music booming out of the boat’s lower decks, they were cheerfully greeted by a crowd dressed in black, partially composed of pirate-resembling hirsute gentlemen yelling at them while brandishing the sign of the horns. "We released our album in I think the best possible way," says Jake, "and we made..." "A SPLASH!" is yelled, of course, by several people at once.

I suddenly become aware that I have spent almost an hour with Famyne in their "office." The other bands billed tonight at the Black Heart are still playing, but I have lost track of time and missed most of their sets. I have become completely relaxed in the company of Famyne, to the point that I have lost the awareness that I was entrusted by our editor with a specific task. With time, folks who gravitate around lots of bands must learn to tell the difference between a genuine human interaction and a PR exercise. This is something that I am generally aware of, yet meeting the band for the first time strangely feels like catching up with old friends that you haven’t seen in a very long time. So many great stories, so much laughter -- and banter! -- some of which was at my own expense (well, most at my own expense). Also a great candeur, particularly in relation with some of the challenges that everyday life throws at folks making space to express their creativity.

In such a short space of time, the bandmates’ gentle manners and openness have enabled me to find out so much about this band. A band that, until now, had remained rather mysterious, other than through the medium of their music, and some photographs shared on their social media feeds. Jake had used these words to describe the sound of his band at the start of the interview, and as I press the stop button on my Dictaphone they resonate with a deeper amplitude: Famyne is Famyne.

LIVE & LOUD

Famyne, Serpent Venom, and Iron Void at The Black Heart

~Review by Connah Davies | Photos by Angelique Le Marchand~

The Black Heart is the scene of day two of the three-day jaunt for this ragtag gang of doom metal miscreants as they roll down from Coventry, having just played The Phoenix on the previous night. Their run finished the following day in Bristol at The Old England pub.

This is Iron Void's first London show in quite some time and it comes off the back of the release of a new album. Having originally formed in 1998, these guys are no strangers to the scene, and their 2008 reformation saw them release a string of interesting EPs and LPs. The band's latest effort, 'Excalibur' (2018), was released in October on Shadow Kingdom Records.

Serpent Venom are the only band on their home turf tonight. After regrettably having to cancel an appearance in early-October, they seem keen to get back out there and conquer the stage again.

Canterbury doomers Famyne recently concluded a spate of European shows following the release of their self-titled LP, before taking to the stage at Camden’s The Black Heart. With the venue's long history of incredible gigs, this would be a fitting place for tonight’s line-up.

Famyne

Famyne started the evening with a barrage of riffs as subtle and powerful as the turning of the tides. Drone-like at times, with subtle and nuanced variation and instrumental interplay, while at other times the riffs leap from the stage and forcibly bang every head in the room. Songs reach a level of incredible intensity before resolving, then the next song starts working its way over you.

Famyne by Famyne

The reverb-soaked vocals from Tom Vane coax and lure the listeners in, before infecting them all with the same brand of insanity he throws himself into throughout the performance. By the end of their set, one might swear the sound of his voice originated from within their own head. These guys have mastered the art of decelerating the tempo of a song in an exceptionally musical way, appearing to never really lose any steam and certainly never losing any bite from the insistently heavy riffs. This, combined with great use of dynamics across their set ensure that they never lose the audience's attention.

Jake Cook (drums), Chris Travers (bass), and Martin Emmons (guitar) are really locked in tight and allow the music to sway and swing about the room or stampede as they see fit. Famyne’s lead guitarist Alex Tolson uses his understated, but technically fantastic, leads sparingly. The ethos of serving the song could leave some listeners wanting more, but that’s quite the point. Never overstaying their welcome, the solos always lift the song exactly when needed before the weight of the riffs come crashing down again. All in all, an equally vital and menacing performance.

Serpent Venom

From the word go Serpent Venom were an altogether different beast. The guitar tones had a more metallic edge to them which, whilst being less atmospheric than the evening's opening act, did allow for more fist pumping from the crowd. The tone of the single guitar on stage added a real weight to the riffs, which came thick and fast, designed to force feed every ear in the room hot gravel. It really sounded like there was more than the one guitar on stage.

Of Things Seen & Unseen by Serpent Venom

Garry Ricketts’ vocals were well-delivered and came in a direct fashion, fitting nicely with the instrumental factions of the band. It could be said that the reverb on the vocals (ramped up to obscene levels) slightly drew away from the poignancy and edge of the vocal performance. A little less would have been a real benefit to this band. Despite this, Ricketts still commanded the attention of everyone in the room. There were a few moments where it seemed he might push into a slightly more aggressive delivery but that never came. If only to occasionally match the snarl, grunt, and crash of the guitar, bass, and drums, it would have been nice to see.

The instrumental sections of the songs often come in a relentless gallop of fuzzed-out madness. It’s during the shifts from these up-tempo moments to the slower sections where it’s genuinely apparent just how tight these guys are. This is accentuated further by the way Ricketts allows his melodies to drift around and in between the band.

One misstep from the engineer during the show temporarily took the wind out of the sails of the performance, when a request for no more strobes was mistaken for a request for no more reverb -- and for half a song that was the case. Serpent Venom didn’t miss a beat during this and the issue was soon rendered, but it did disrupt the atmosphere of the set.

Serpent Venom closed out with a Sabbath-inspired bombardment of riffs. When all was said and done it seemed that, despite being very good, they were capable of putting on a more compelling show under different circumstances.

Iron Void

Opening with "Dragon’s Breath" from their new album, you know where you stand with Iron Void almost immediately. They’ll do little to change one’s mind over the course of the set, but if they’ve got their hooks in and there’s no escape.

Jonathan Seale (bass, vox) and Steve Wilson (guitar, vox) really opened up the sonic range of tonight's show with their vocal harmonies. This lends their sound a more grandiose quality, with the vibe of Gregorian vocal chants thrown in. They use a good dose of pace throughout, with their average tempo being the fastest so far.

Excalibur by Iron Void

Wilson's blues-scorched guitar lines move both with and against the vocals, creating lifting counter melodies and sturdy reinforcements. The well-constructed riffs fit remarkably well with the lyrical themes of the material. The overall sound had a certain ‘70s hard rock twist, which is just as present on their recorded material.

Nothing bad can be said of the lead guitar parts, as they live to serve the almighty riffs they stem from. The new material was comfortably at home amongst their older songs and really added to the slew of fuzz-soaked guitar work and soaring vocals. The only thing that could be said about the performance is that it doesn’t come with too many surprises throughout. This was by no means a boring show, but perhaps with a more carefully curated setlist Iron Void could have kept heads banging more consistently.

Conclusion

All in all, a solid night of doom. With the headline act being the most niche of the three bands that performed tonight it was always a risk that they might experience some drop off in the room, but this wasn’t the case. The room stayed pretty much full, excited, and in motion throughout the night.

The only gripe one might have is the same one you would find in this venue during any gig. The FOH level is always pushed to the very limit of what the system can handle. This causes a degree of clarity to be lost during the fuller on moments. Fortunately, the roster tonight didn’t suffer too greatly from this and there wasn’t many of the issues this can cause for other bands.

Taking a genre like doom-stoner, the parameters of which are well defined, and having such different corners of it touched during a three band lineup really says a lot about the creativity of those who played tonight and love this music. With the same artists playing in Bristol the following evening, one can only hope that things went down as well there, too.

The highlight of the night came early on with Famyne. They had the right blend of strut and intensity, but also knew when to hold back. This may be relatively early days for the band, but it’s clear they’ve got an interesting future ahead of them.

More Famyne

More Serpent Venom

More Iron Void