#and gods don’t really have to carry their children through the whole nine months | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years ago

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Live In Nanny

Villain!All Might x Reader

All Might raising baby Deku but is in desperate need of a nanny.

TW: Yandere themes, breeding kink (our villain is ready to make the reader a mommy), dub con

AN: literally just took Hero All Might and flipped him upside down. So baseline form is big buff boi and villain form is lanky but retains the strength.

Single father with a nine month old child, seeking live in nanny services. Negotiable pay. Negotiable time off/vacation days.

Toshinori was impressed with your interview. You had over 8 years of experience working with children between babysitting and working at a day care. Plus Izuku took to you immediately. It was just a bonus that you were easy on the eyes.

You agreed to begin immediately, trying not to let on that you were in desperate need of money and a place to stay. You didn't have much to move in. And, in comparison to the huge room you had been given, it seemed like you owned even less. You figured your new boss must get paid well. His house was huge, the largest you'd ever been in.

Your room was next to baby Izuku's. Settling in to a routine with the baby was easy. You weren't sure exactly what your employer did for a living, his schedule was sporadic, he would be in and out throughout the day. Whenever he was available he would stop by to love on the infant. It was clear that he was doing his best as a single parent, but house keeping wasn't his strong suit. You tried your best to help out with the chores and grocery shopping, after all he was paying you graciously and giving you a roof over your head.

The only bump in the road so far has been getting Toshinori's permission to take the little one on walks through the nearby park. According to the father, errands were one thing but what was the point of going to park? Izuku can't even walk, there wouldn't be any benefit. Eventually you convinced him, after rambling about how good it is for babies to be exposed to different levels of stimulation. You could show Izuku the ducks and dogs, plus he could see all the pretty spring time flowers.

The older man was worried, he feared that his child, and you for that matter, would be targeted by his enemies. Plenty of low life's would love to make a move against the notorious villain. But you wore down his resolve. So long as you would tell him before you went. Thankfully he could play it off as being a bit of a helicopter dad. He always has a spare crony he could send out there to watch over you two.

---

"What are you both doing," your bosses laugh filled the air.

You were in a very flattering position, palms on the floor stretching through your hips, ass hiked up with a tempting arch to your back. Then you pushed yourself forward, giving the giggling baby raspberries before returning to your original position.

"Baby yoga!" You smiled, oblivious to the growing bulge in the villains pants. "Right now we're doing downward facing dog and cobra."

He watched you cycle through the motions, hypnotized by your movements.

You took such good care of him and his baby. Ever since you got here you went above and beyond (very plus ultra of you). You even packed his meals to go when he had to rush off to a job. And you did it all with a smile and his kid bouncing away at your feet. The man allowed his mind to drift to the thought of you with his babies, Izuku on your hip and your round belly ready to pop.

You made an amazing nanny but you would make an even better housewife.

---

It wasn't until a week after Izuku's birthday that you learned about your bosses occupation. You were at the park and a stranger approached you to coo over Izuku.

"Such a little cutie, this is Toshi's kid, right?"

That caught you off guard, how did this person know Toshinori? You knew he was a protective dad and there something about this woman felt off.

"Well, either way, this is for you," she smiled as she passed you a manila envelope. "A little birdie wants you to have it."

You skeptically eyed the parcel as the woman disappeared through the park. You shoved it into Izuku's diaper bag before rushing back home.

You decided to peek into the envelope after settling 'Zuku down for the night. You curled onto the chair in his nursery, using his nightlight too sift through the documents. Various photos of Toshinori, your employer, amongst high profile criminals. Photos of the most terrifying villain among his infamous exploits. And finally a piece of paper with a single web address and access code. This was the most damning piece of evidence, All Might - the villain himself - joking amongst his companions before transforming into the man you knew as Izuku's father. Without this video you would have never even guessed. All Might was known for his unassuming nature, his slender frame concealing his god-like strength. Still he looked terrifying, like make children cry type terrifying. Toshinori on the other hand was massive but his sunny attitude made him approachable. For all these months you had been working for a criminal. A criminal with a child. You had been living with him, laughing and raising a baby, taking care of him and his family. Oh god, your late night fantasies of your boss, a total DILF, were fantasies of a sadistic monster.

The betrayal and shame brought you to tears. You should call the cops. Take Izuku far away from this place, from being exposed to his fathers atrocities. But you were torn, he was a good dad, he always put his son first and provided him with only the best. He would tear the world apart for Izuku even if he had to put a target on your back. You shook as you muffled your cries, trying not to wake the baby you cared so much for. Eventually you wrote yourself out, falling asleep in the nursery.

By the time Toshinori made it home it was close to two in the morning. As usual he tip toed into his sons room, shocked to find you curled up in the rocker asleep. He was quiet, surprisingly more so than in his slender form. As you made his way to wake you he was surprised to see your phone still unlocked, you had fallen to sleep with that video on loop. Underneath your phone was the envelope, he didn't need to look to know what was inside. He hadn’t woken either of you, managing to shut off your phone and pick you up with or so much as a peep. He decided rather quickly that he would wait for you to make the first move. At least in the mean time he could pretend you didn't care about his lifestyle and that you wouldn't try to leave him or his son.

"Toshinori," you mumbled as he was about to settle you into your bed. You were half asleep and groggy from crying.

"Go back to sleep, darling, it's late," he paused to sway with you, just like he did when putting down 'Zuku for a nap. He was shocked that it worked and finally escaped your room. You let him lull you back to sleep, further affirming his belief that you would stay.

---

The next morning you creeped downstairs. Izuku wasn't in his crib, meaning Toshinori was him. You found them both in the kitchen. The sight of the pair would usually warm your body but now shivers radiated down your spine.

"Look who's up, buddy, say good morning," he bounced the child, beaming like the happiest father.

Taking a deep breath you decided to rip off the band aid. "Mr Toshinori, I have to resign."

His pause was so long you wondered if he heard you.

"Did the video upset her that much, Zuzu?"

He looked at you with the same warmth he always did. "There's no need to be formal, you were fine calling me Toshi just the other day. Take a seat, I made pancakes, just like you like'em."

You complied, his unchanged demeanor intimidating you into submission.

"There's no need for you to quit," he started. "Nothing has changed aside from your level of awareness."

"I can't work for you knowing that you hurt people."

At that his smile faltered, "Darling, if you truly felt that way, you wouldn't be here. You would've slipped out early this morning."

You were silent. He was right, in a way. Trapped between what was right and what was best for Izuku. You'd never be able to do anything about your boss's criminal activity, even if you did and All Might was locked away, Izuku would suffer the most.

"Give yourself a few days to adjust, okay? If you still want to quit after that, we can reassess."

There's was a glint in his eyes that hinted he wasn't asking.

---

"I'll be back this evening," Toshinori told you a as he kissed Izuku's forehead. He was uncomfortably close as he returned the baby to your lap. "There's plenty of groceries so you don't need to go out today. I have a coworker out front, so don’t worry if you see someone outside."

"What are they doing?"

He placed a hand on the top of your hair, petting you like some cat.

"He'll just keep an eye on things. I need someone to make sure you stay put."

---

A week flew by with your employer pushing off the discussion of your resignation. He wouldn’t leave you unsupervised so just walking away wasn’t an option, besides could you really leave Izuku?

Then the child came down with some type of bug and was absolutely miserable for several days. You couldn’t get much sleep as a result, even if his father was home for most of the day.

---

Izuku finally fell asleep around three in the morning. You napped beside his crib out of fear he would wake up if you so much as changed positions.

Then you woke in Toshi's arms as he carried you down the hall.

"Where are we going," You whined, anxious to be away from the child.

"I told you to rest, instead I find you in the nursery."

"'Zuku is sick-"

"But he's asleep, there are baby monitors, not that he won't wake the whole city up with his cries. You've been up for nearly two days with him, time for bed."

But he wasn't taking you to your room. Instead he dropped you on to his bed.

"What are you doing?" You snapped.

"I don't need you sneaking back. I can keep an eye on you here. I'll take care of him if he starts crying." He rolled in next to you.

The bed was huge but so was your boss. "Stop wiggling."

"Well I can't get comfortable."

“Fine,” he said and pulled you into him, “now stop it and get some sleep.”

You burned with embarrassment, turning silent after several attempts at protest. Just as you began to drift off, Toshinori's hand moved to beneath your shorts. You shut your eyes, pretending not to notice. He probably didn't even realize what he was doing. Then his fingers grazed the spot where your skin met your panties.

"I know you aren't asleep yet, darling."

You didn't respond, opting to keep up the façade.

"Mmm, are we playing pretend? I don't mind."

You gasped, pushing at his hand, "I'm trying to sleep."

"I can see that," he chuckled. "I'm just helping you wear yourself out. You've been taking such good care of the baby, let me return the favor."

He jerked your hips, pressing you tightly against his bulge.

"You've been such a good mommy."

God the way you could feel your body responding made you hate that he was a villain.

"'M not-" You gasped as he did his fingers into your thighs. "His mom."

"You sure about that? I know how much you care about him. Always rushing to him when he’s cranky, never taking any days off. You make sure he's a happy little baby and you take such good care of his daddy. Isn't that's what mommies do?"

A moan slipped through your lips, "Stop."

"Are you sure? It seems like your having such a good time," he teased, sliding his hand to find your wetness.

Your body jerked involuntarily. He wasted no time tearing off your layers. Your determination quickly fading.

"I'm gonna take such good care of you," he pushed a finger in to your warmth.

You shivered at the sensation. Before you could register his actions there was another digit. He skillfully maneuvered his fingers to prep walls.

"What a tight like cunt," The man cooed. "So perfect and pretty. Just waiting for me to claim."

You gasped as he curled his fingers in you. Tears of pleasure pricking your eyes.

"Atta girl, I think you're ready to take daddy's cock."

You shouldn't be surprised when you saw how absolutely hung your boss is. There was no way the whole thing would fit inside of you.

Without hesitation All Might slowly began to press inside of you. The head of his cock already made it feel like you were tearing.

"Wait wait wait," You cried. "Too big."

He paused, reassuring you, "I know you can do it baby. You're okay."

You shook your head violently.

With a sloppy squelch he withdrew. He disappeared momentarily, give you much need time to breathe. Then he was back and you felt a cool, slick fluid rub against you. He applied a generous amount of lube knowing full well that if he played his cards right you'd happily be his forever.

Regardless there was still a painful pressure as he forced himself deeper.

"You're doing so good, taking me so well."

He was slowly increasing the speed off his hips. All you could manage was incoherent whines as his momentum bounced you back and forth.

"Toshi, Toshi," You panted.

"I don't think so baby girl," he slapped your thigh. "You know what I want to hear."

You couldn't be rational, not when he was pounding into you. All you knew was pleasure in this moment. How could you not give the man what he wanted when he was fucking you dumb.

"Mmm daddy, hurts so good."

"Ah- fuck yeah. I knew you were a little pain slut. You want me to fuck you like a whore and then treat you like my little princess?"

You nodded, gasping for air.

"You've been such a good little mommy, I think you deserve this little treat huh?"

You didn't respond, stubbornly refusing to tell the man what he was desperate to hear.

He shifted to a painfully slow pace as he would pull almost completely out just to slam back into your abused whole.

"And here I thought you wanted to cum, I can always stop here, finish myself later-"

"No! No no no, don't stop."

"Then repeat after me: I'm such a good mommy."

As you stayed silent until he began to move at a snails pace. So close to losing your high.

"O-kay, okay, I-I've been a good mom-mommy," You cried tried to buck against the giant.

And just like that your boss was pushing you back to the edge of an orgasm. You were sobbing from pleasure and frustration.

"I know,” He growled. “Fucking good girl, taking care of our baby while daddy's working. You're gonna look so pretty knocked up. All glowing and swollen. Bet your tits are gonna look so pretty when they get full. Gotta keep you stuffed with my cum so our little boy can have a sibling."

#bnha yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #mha yandere #smut #all might x reader #villain all might #all smite #toshinori yagi x reader

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unwantedtomost · 4 years ago

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it had been months — sebastian stan

sebastian stan x fem!reader

word count: 4,401 words

summery: it had been nine months since you and your first real long term boyfriend broke up. but as they say, time makes the heart grow fonder ... and it also made the lust build up.

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, cheating, kind of a breeding kink at the end, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

a/n: i have never actually posted a whole thing on here before, so i hope this goes well. i know my writing can improve, but it’s pretty good i would say. enjoy!

It had been months since you had broken up with your long-term boyfriend. Your first long-term boyfriend you had since you arrived to the Hollywood scene. Nine months, to be exact. The same amount of time it would have been to carry a child. A hypothetical child. The same hypothetical child that ruined your relationship in the first place.

“You don’t want kids?” Sebastian questioned as soon as you entered the shared apartment. The topic of children came up at dinner with your shared friends. You, offhandedly said: “God, no,” with a laugh, not giving it a second thought. Not till now.

“Not really,” you said as you unzipped your heeled boots. “I never really have, not since I was younger.”

“Never?” He asked, heart starting to beat heavier.

You looked up to him, concerned when you saw his face. It was the same face he had on every time you guys got in a face, mixed with disappointment, maybe even hurt. You smiled, trying to lighten the situation.

“Maybe not never,” you said, putting your shoes away. “But not at least for ten years, maybe even longer. I mean, I am only twenty-two. I would like a good life without children before bringing them into the mix.”

Your warm smile and calm demeanor did nothing to elevate the tension, something inside you saying it did the exact opposite. He looked serious and upset, a combination you never saw much.

“In ten years I’ll be almost fifty,” Sebastian states.

“So? Guys never really stop shooting out good rounds. All my parts will still be intact by that time too.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?” You were confused. Why was he acting like this?

“I shouldn’t be old enough to be the kid’s grandfather.”

Anger started to bubble up as well. This tone that he had made you pissed off. He was talking like you were stupid like you didn’t get what he was saying. The brassiness you had in general not helping your temper.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you started dating someone sixteen years younger than you,” you shot back.

Then the yelling started. Something that could have been a deep, meaningful conversation (one that frankly should have been had way before this point) turned into a full-blown fight. You both started going in at each other, picking at old scabs that you knew would hurt. That was the point, after all, you just wanted to hurt each other. Because you were mad and upset, you guessed, but by the end of it, you weren’t even sure.

The fighting ended two hours later, you sat, slumped on the couch, huffing. You tried to catch your breath from all the yelling. Your throat was hoarse, your cheeks sticky from dried tears.

“It seems like we’re not gonna work out then,” you said, numb.

“Seems so.”

And you left that night, grabbing nothing but your phone before making your way to your closest friend’s house.

After that, you cried for two months straight. You really thought that Sebastian was endgame. That you would be together forever. That you would be happy. Ever since you caught sight of him at your first audition, you felt that he was the one. Then the universe laughed maniacally as it showed you just how fucking wrong you were.

In the past nine months, you had seen him approximately sixteen times, most being in passing, a few being at parties, and one time being at a coffee shop that you both loved. You started to frequent it less after the breakup, too scared to bump into him. Little did you know, he was doing the same thing. The day you two saw each other was both of your first times in three months.

It was all stupid small talk until it wavered, forced laughs and fake smiles fading as the reality of the situation simmered in.

“Look, y/n—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted. You knew what he was going to say, and you didn’t want to hear it. You simply couldn’t. “It was nice seeing you again, Sebastian. I hope you have a good life.” You took a few steps before turning back around for a moment. He looked at you like he was expecting you to run into his arms and make everything go back to normal. “And I really hope you meet a girl that can give you what you need.”

He tried to reach out to you, but you wouldn’t let him. You simply walked away and left him, alone. That was the last time you had spoken to him.

It was five months after the breakup until you let your friends talk you into going out again. And that night you had run into none other than the Timothee Chalamet. Numbers were exchanged then the next thing you knew, you were naked in his hotel room. After that, you went through a bit of a “hoe stage.” Every two weeks you were on a cover of TMZ, E!, or any other celebrity gossip magazine that existed with a “possible new thing.” The people ranged from Tom Holland to Madison Beer, and no one knew what was true or not. After the first few batches came out, you stopped giving a shit. You were allowed to rebound with whomever or however you wanted to, and you were taking full advantage of that.

You were so busy juggling so many people that you hadn’t even thought about Sebastian. Not till right now. Your eyes catch his from across the ballroom that you’re currently in. Your pulse quickens rapidly, you feel like you might even faint. If it wasn’t for Timothee’s hand on your waist, you were sure you would have collapsed on the spot. You watched as Sebastian’s jaw clenched just like it did whenever you did something he disapproved of. Just like it did every time he gave into himself and read one of those stupid gossip sights and saw you all over whatever arm candy you had chosen for the week.

“I’ll be right back, okay babe?” Timothee said, kissing you on the cheek. He waited for you to nod before making his way to one of his friends.

You don’t know what to do and those beautiful blue eyes you fell in love with all that time ago refuse to leave yours. You feel like you want to cry, or scream, or throw up, but you know that you shouldn’t actually do any of those things. You’d draw attention and you don’t want any more people talking about you.

Luckily, one of your best friends, Elizabeth, pulls you into a tight hug and brings you back to earth. Her body feels warm and it makes you feel safe, the smell of her strawberry shampoo bringing you comfort.

“I know,” she said before you spoke. “I saw. Are you okay? I’ll leave with you right now if you want to.”

It takes you a minute to process everything, and even though you’re running everything through your mind, nothing really sinks in.

“I’ll be fine,” you say with conviction, though you don’t know if it’s true at all. “Leaving wouldn’t accomplish anything.” You stop talking for a minute before smiling at Elizabeth. “Now, let’s go give the people what they want and take some pictures together.”

It had been two hours and the event was finally coming to a close. No more than forty-five minutes and the place would be cleared out. With that knowledge, you went to go take advantage of the free bar stocked up with expensive liquor. After schmoozing with people you did not even want to interact with, you deserve it.

“Two shots of tequila and a rum and coke, please,” you say to the rather cute bartender, shoulders slumping.

As soon as the two shot glasses were in front of you, you downed them. It burned like hell and you could only imagine the ungodly face you made. You tried to chase it with the rum and coke, but it didn’t help much. You heard a gruff voice beside you order something, one that was very familiar. When you heard a chuckle, you knew for sure who was right next to you. You froze again, that same dizzy, sick feeling coming back. You turned your head slowly to see those big blue eyes for the second time tonight, your heart surely beating loud enough that anyone in a mile radius could hear it.

“You look beautiful tonight, y/n,” Sebastian said, leaning against the bar, facing you.

“You do too,” you blurt out. Face turning red after you realized that you’re fucking stupid. “I mean, you look—shit. You look very nice, Seb—Sebastian.”

You’re so flustered and red, you want to simply sink into the floor. For a moment, you wonder why he isn’t acting the same way. It could be that he had already had some to drink or maybe he was just better at controlling his emotion. And the thought that makes dread flow through you is that maybe he is just over you.

“Are you going to an after-party?” He asks, sipping from his glass.

“I don’t think so,” you say. You were supposed to go to one with Timothee, where you were finally going to announce that you two had become official, but now you just want to go home. “Are you?”

“Probably not,” he said simply. “I’ll just have a few more of these back home and go to bed.”

“Drinking alone is no fun,” you say, hinting. You know what you are trying to get across but you don’t know why. It’s like your mouth was moving before your brain could understand what you were doing.

“It’s not ideal,” he said. “But I really don’t have a date to drink with, unlike you.” He pointed towards Timothee talking to a director you hastily met.

“He’s not my date,” you shot out. “I mean, he is, but we’re not like, dating.” Why the fuck are you talking!?!?

“It’s none of my business,” Sebastian said. He didn’t sound mean, he sounded like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know … but we’re not … if you were wondering.”

He chuckled, placing a hand on your elbow. “It was nice to see you again, y/n.”

He turned to start walking away but you called after him, making him turn back around. “Wait!” Once he was facing you, you felt like you were in a movie. “I could go for a drink.”

Sebastian smiled but his eyes dismissed you. “What are you doing, sugar?” He warned.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But don’t shut me down.”

With a shared smile, he took your hand and you both left the party. On the car ride back to his apartment (that used to be your apartment), you thought briefly about how you would explain this to Timothee in the morning. Then you turned off your phone so you didn’t have to feel guilty if he decided to text you. Neither of you spoke much on the way. His hand never left its place on your thigh before you were finally there.

When he opened the door, you stumbled lightly into the apartment. Sebastian caught you by wrapping his arm around your waist. He lightly sat you down on the chair by the entrance (the same one you had sat at nine months ago). Once he had closed the door and put his things down, he came back to you to help slip off your heels.

“Are you already drunk?” He chuckled.

“No, just a wee bit tipsy.”

“Your ‘wee bit’ is usually a lotta bit.”

“Not this time, I really mean just a wee wee bit.” You suddenly burst out laughing at the fact you just said wee wee, giving away the fact that you are indeed close to being drunk.

“Maybe you don’t need anymore to drink,” Sebastian said.

“C’mon, Sebby, take that stick out of your ass,” you say, making him laugh. It makes you feel lighter like you weren’t fucking shit up again. Like you weren’t making a mistake you would regret in the morning.

You watched as he made his way into the kitchen, pouring both of you a glass of red wine. Your favorite and most expensive red wine, the one that you had left at the apartment after the breakup. You wondered if it was the same bottle, or if he had done the same thing he was doing with you with another girl. When he came back, he handed you the glass which you placed down on the coffee table, realizing you were still in a designer white dress that you didn’t own.

“Shit,” you muttered after your realization.

“What is it?”

“This isn’t my dress.”

His eyes wandered down your figure as he thought. “You can take that off and I can hang it up for you. I’m sure there’s something here you can wear.”

You nodded before he was walking towards the bedroom, the one you once shared. You followed after him through the small hall. You looked around the room, noticing how boring it looked now. None of your decorations you had were up anymore, but the small mural you once painted in the middle of the night was still in full view. Did he think about you every time he saw it? If he did, why didn’t he just paint over it?

Sebastian placed one of his shirts (that was your favorite one to wear) and a pair of shorts you had thought you lost on the bed.

“Well, you can get changed in here,” he stated before going for the door.

“Actually,” you called out, stopping him from leaving. “Can you unzip me please?”

He paused for a moment before nodding, slowly making his way back to you. The room went silent as he softly collected your hair and moved it to one side. Heat started to rise through your body at the close proximity he held. His hands grazed your shoulders momentarily before he steadily unzipped the expensive dress. You caught his eyes in the mirror in front of you, your cheeks immediately burning red. He finished unzipping the dress before helping you slide it off your arms. You had to cover your breasts with your arm since you hadn’t worn a bra. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen your body before, he knew his way around there better than you did, but not covering yourself just felt inappropriate. But, to be fair, the entire situation felt inappropriate. The dress fell to a pool around your feet, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lace black underwear, ones that Sebastian had bought for you one month before you broke up. You stepped out of the dress, eyes never leaving his. He bent down to pick it up, blue orbs never leaving your eyes.

“I’ll go lay this on the guest bed,” Sebastian said plainly before leaving the room and closing the door.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you let your arm fall. Even though you hadn’t even had a conversation with Sebastian in six months, being in that moment felt more intimate than anytime you had sex with Timothee—or anyone, for that matter. You pulled on the worn-out gray tee shirt that vaguely had ‘Coca-Cola’ printed across it before going out to the living room where you found Sebastian sipping on his wine, now dress in an old tee and grey sweatpants.

The next hour felt like a blur, it was filled with giggles and stupid comments. By the end of it, the wine bottle was empty and you two were officially wine drunk. Now, you were slumped on the couch (the one that you picked out), leaning towards Sebastian, hand dancing along the cushion space between you two.

“Have you realized we never had a goodbye?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” He asked, not wanting his guess to what you were talking about to be right.

“I mean, we had a fight and I left then we were done. There were no ‘this is for the best’ speeches or attempts at a goodbye kiss. One day there was an us and the next it was … nothing.” You looked up at him, an innocent yet quizzical look on your soft features.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” he said.

Not this shit again. “I know,” you said, “we don’t have to talk about anything. We’re not together anymore. We don’t even need to acknowledge each other’s existence anymore. But tonight, you did, and now we’re on your couch.”

“I don’t—” he started, but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“We don’t have to talk about it then. But, I do have another question. Did you ever fuck anyone here?” The words flowed out before you could think any longer, nothing but courage and alcohol running through your body.

“What?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory, Sebastian. I just want to know if you ever fucked someone in my—our—this place.”

His eyes bore into yours as he spoke, voice sharp and clear. “No, y/n, I have never fucked anyone in this place. No one but you.”

That answer made you happy. This place, your place, was still pure. No random hookups had tramped through the place where you lived.

“Good,” you accidentally said out loud, making him upset.

“Why does it even matter? It’s not like you weren’t fucking those young things you were all over in public.” He started to get angry at the thought. “Who are you to question me about my sex life after you broke up with me then pranced around tabloid covers for months with different people each week?”

“Because this was our house, I just want to know it wasn’t tainted by blonde bitches with names you didn’t even remember in the fucking morning.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you’re the only blonde bitch I’ve fucked.”

Suddenly, your hand was moving and your palm was connecting with his face. It shocked both of you, making you both freeze in place. It took ten seconds before Sebastian grabbed the wrist you hit him with, yanking it so you were closer to him. So close you could feel his breath on your face.

“Slap me again and see what fucking happens, I dare you,” he spit out.

Then your heart was in your ass as your stomach erupted with butterflies and your panties soaked with arousal.

It was almost like you lost all control over your body as you smashed your lips against his. Your hands went to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and tugging at the hair there. The intentional scruff on his face was harsh against your smooth skin, but it only elevated your pleasure. Sebastian’s hands went around the sides of your neck, one kind of cupping your face while the other was closer to the back to pull you closer. You felt like you needed to get closer to him, get as close as possible. You needed every single inch of him over every single part of yourself. Your leg swung, straddling him.

Without thinking, you rutted yourself against his thigh, a guttural moan coming from your lips as you did. It’s not like you hadn’t been touched in a while, you just got fucked a few days ago, but you hadn’t experienced something as hot as this in so long. It was rushed and needed, you felt like you would die if he stopped. Your hips absent-mindedly grinded down against his thigh again.

“Fuck, ride my thigh baby,” he ordered. You listened, slipping into your old ways. You continued to rut against his thigh as you kissed. He knew you were getting close by the moans you were letting out into the kiss. He pulled away from your lips, watching as you were losing yourself. “I want you to cum for me, sugar.”

Your hips slowed as your mind raced a mile a minute. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum from just his thigh. What would that do to his already inflated ego? It sounded like bullshit to give into him.

“No,” you mumbled out, your hips threatening to halt their movement.

“No?” He repeated.

You sat there for a minute, silent as his eyes frantically studied your face to see what the point was. He wondered if you wanted to stop, he would understand completely, but he knew that wasn’t what it was by the way you keep clenching your thighs together. Sebastian smirked as he realized what was really happening. He grabbed your hips and started to push you down on his thigh. The problem was that you wanted to cum, but you didn’t want to cum for him. Too bad he was determined on it.

You moaned loudly as he started to drag your hips. You were inching so close, the fact that you didn’t want to give in to the feeling made it feel like it was only becoming stronger. Your hands grabbed his old t-shirt as you frantically moved your hips back and forth. Your nose scrunched and your eyes shut tight, your mouth letting out a whisper of “oh fuck”s on a loop.

“That’s it,” you heard Sebastian say even though his voice sounded like it was miles away. “Cum like a good girl.”

Suddenly, all the pressure that was building up deep within your tummy snapped and you were on cloud 9. Your heat pulsed as you road out your orgasm, Sebastian's hands helping you immensely. It took a good minute of pants as you caught your breath before you opened your eyes and came back to reality.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you muttered to him when you finally made eye contact again.

“I know,” he smirked. “Now be a good girl, sugar, and take off your pants.”

You questioned arguing with him more, but you decided not to. You wanted him, you wanted him so fucking bad. You stood up and pulled down your shorts, doing a little spin so Sebastian could marvel at how wonderful you looked.

“As beautiful as those look on you, darling, they’d look better on the floor.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you stripped out of the underwear as well, leaving you in nothing but an old grey t-shirt. You went back to your place on Sebastian’s lap, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. You felt like you were melting into him entirely as everything snapped back into place. Your hands roamed lower, palming him through his grey sweats. You smirked to yourself at the realization of how hard he was already and at the fact he wasn’t wearing boxers. He lifted his hips to help you pull down his pants. Just as you were getting ready to place his member in the place you wanted him the most, he halts your movement by grabbing your wrist.

“Shit, I don’t have a condom, y/n,” he warned. You frowned, upset that he had stopped you.

“I don’t care.”

“But you still have that IUD in, right?”

You grimaced because no, you did not. Your five years had run out two months ago and you hadn’t gotten around to making an appointment for a new one. You shook your head slowly side to side before he sighed. He went to pull you off of him but you stopped him by holding onto his shoulders

“I don’t care,” you repeated.

“Y/n, you know why can’t.”

“Why not?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “Besides the fact you could get pregnant?”

“I don’t care,” you said one more time. “I want you.”

He looked into your eyes, trying his best to decipher your intentions.

“Y/n …”

“Get me pregnant, Sebby,” you said, meaning it too. “I want you, I want your kids. Fuck, I want us back. I don’t care if that means kids and a white picket fence. I just want you.”

“Are you sure?”

In response, you slowly leaned down and your lips touched. It was nothing like the kisses you had shared preferably, it was slow and soft. He pulled you closer, finally letting you lower yourself down on him. You both let out loud moans as you sink down on his member.

It was like you had forgotten what making love felt like, probably because you did. In the past nine months since you had split, you hadn’t made love with anyone once. It was all just meaningless sex or hot fucking, but there was no love behind it. You didn’t love Timothee, you hadn’t loved any of your flings. Maybe it was because you never stopped loving Sebastian—you were almost sure it was because of that.

You moved up and down whilst Sebastian thrust up into you. The room was filled with moans, grunts, and praises from both ends. He started to kiss your neck as his thumb started to rub your clit. The multiple amounts of stimulation only brought you closer to your climax.

“I’m gonna, fuck—I’m close.”

“I know, babygirl,” he cooed. “Look at me.” You looked into his blue orbs, feeling your climax inching ever so closer. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whined out as your hips moved faster. “Cum inside me, Sebastian. Get me—fuck, god—put a fucking baby in me.”

With your confirmation, he flipped you on your back, thrusting harder. The hand that wasn’t toying with your clit interlaced with yours. Your grip on each other squeezed harder as you neared your finishes. You wrapped your legs around him as his hips started to stutter.

“Cum with me, baby,” Sebastian groaned.

You finally let the coil that built inside of you snap with his permission. Moments later, he busted inside of you, making you both yell out. He collapsed on top of you, trying his best not to crush you under his weight. You both panted for minutes before you finally spoke up.

“I love you,” you said. He lifted his head, looking into his eyes. “I never stopped.

“Neither did I,” Sebastian said. “Did you mean it, you want to have kids?”

“I want to do anything if it means I can be with you. Anything.”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan smut #marvel smut #marvel men smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #fanfic #tfatws

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tender-rosiey · 4 years ago

Note

Last part! Maybe👀

But the latest post was so pure that I started to tear up😭💕💕💕

Thnx alot it really was a bless and made me smile from the the rough week I had lately🥺❤

Okay lets get down to business~

From giving birth to how they took care of the child to raising him/her or maybe twins👀💕to growing up u can divide it to parts if u want i won't mind😊❤

Same characters Atsushi/Chuuya/Dazai

❥ BSD characters as parents

Includes: Dazai, Chuuya and Atsushi

ᴀ/ɴ: I am really glad you liked it, dear; I am honored that you find my writing as such and I hope everything gets better for you. I hope you like this as well and my apologizes it’s late; this was so heart-warming to write oml 🥺💘

Dazai Osamu:

Dazai would be terrified I tell you

Like what if he does something wrong that leads them down the path he loathes :(

That’s why you reassure him alongside your beautiful baby

Let’s say you had a girl cause I think a girl would help in making dazai be more smiley and affectionate cause you know how most girls when young like affection?

That’s why

Anyways so, the first months of raising said spawn of satan are like hell for our little brunette

I believe that what would happen is that our little girl would see him as the vomiting stop

So like if you fed her and gave her to dazai to help her burp then she will take it as the cue to vomit to which made dazai think she hated him

“But y/n she keeps crying and screaming when I hold her, she must hate me; she never does anything with you.”

One fateful day however he had to take care of his lovely daughter for a whole day

Cause you had enough of the bullshit of the house and decided to go on a hangout with your friends

So let’s see how he dealt with this, she was not accepting of him AT FIRST and he was on the verge of giving up

But dazai then started humming a song and gently cradling her and swaying her in his arms

Your little girl liked his voice and held his finger while he was calming her down and smiled

That made dazai’s day a lot brighter, but he managed to contain his excitement so he doesn’t scare her

And when you came home you found them sleeping and she was in his arms clinging to his chest as strong as she can 🥺

Now cause I am not going through her whole damn childhood I am gonna talk about her first step and first word

THE FIRST STEP HAPPENED WHEN you two were chilling like the good bad parents you are on the couch

And your daughter wanted to join you people cause apparently she was put on the naughty corner due to somehow spilling pink dye in the shampoo of your husband

So like the determined baby she is, she tried crawling but found out it’s taking too long

So she tried copying how you sweeties walk

And she did :D

So when you looked to her side to check up on her, you saw her walking to you with her arms in the air and then pulled dazai by his arms and told him that she is walking

And he whipped his head SO fast you were afraid he would snap his neck

He took lots of photos and videos

Now her first word was basically a competition between you dummies

“She will say dada first!”

“No, she will say mama first!”

“kukida!”

“…”

Great job, darling

And you both lost to a handsome and respectful blonde

Chuuya Nakahara:

S/N means son name btw 😚

“OH MY GOD Y/N HE LOOKS SO HANDSOME!”

chuuya sweetie we don’t scream beside a newborn child and a woman who just gave birth

I honestly think he would be g r e a t with children

Like sometimes he does take care of Q I believe and he gets along fairly well with Kenji

Who wouldn’t get along with kenji

Anyways he would be so excited and proud of the child you gave birth to

And he was basically fangirling

Chuuya and his kid will get along so well, like your baby would just beam whenever chuuya comes home

Also fight me if you think Chuuya Nakahara wouldn’t take millions and billions of photos and videos of his children

A L L OF HIS CHILDREN

Be it eldest, middle or the youngest of them

He views them as treasures that should be valued every single moment

awie, I love soft chu chu

Now onto the memories

THE FIRST STEP

Yes you are only getting the two major events, deal with it you lovely people

As i was saying

THE FIRST STEP HAPPENED WHEN YOU AND CHUUYA WERE IN A MEETING

And your kiddo missed you two :(

So what did he do?

Be a champion like his dad said

Tried his best to walk to the meeting room and he did

Did the guards stop him?

They just went soft and opened the door for him like he is a damn boss

And then you felt something tug at your leg and giggle

I will let you imagine how the rest of the meeting went with chuuya carrying you both excited about his kid’s first step

The first word was not something with a good aftermath for chuuya however—

“Dazai that absolutely and utterly shitty shithead!”

“Shitheath!”

“Shit”

“Shit!”

“NO STOP REPEATING AFTER ME! AT LEAST SAY DADA!”

Cue you entering

“Hey S/N!”

“Shit!”

“WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT?!”

“Dada!”

“CHUUYA NAKAHARA I AM GONNA KILL YOU!”

“Oh shit! Dada!”

Atsushi Nakajima:

Nnnnnn

I believe he would have a girl

Cause he is such a girl magnet

Like kyoka and lucy

Reminds me of midoriya in that aspect

Anyways he would be so nervous to hold her but excited

Like “y/n I wanna hold her so bad but what if I drop her? :(“

He does end up holding her and crying tears of joy

What a cutie <3

Anyhow your daughter would cling to him like a koala and would only leave him when hungry or she absolutely misses you

He doesn’t wanna let go either honestly

BUT COME ON

YOU DIDNT STAY IN LABOR AND CARRIED HER FOR NINE MONTHS IN YOUR STOMACH TO END UP NOT HOLDING HER

Most of the time you would find them playing with each other

Your daughter also squishes his cheek a lot

That was a sweet introduction

Almost too sweet

Let me ruin it

THE FIRST STEP

The great uncle dazai had came to pay a visit to his lovely ‘nephew’ and subordinate

“Hello Atsushi and Y/N! I came to look at my beautiful and gorgeous nephew! :D”

Which brings me to the point that your daughter adores dazai with her whole heart

So she was sitting playing until she saw him and got so happy she stood up and walked towards him clumsily

The three of you malfunctioned

Dazai was so happy tho 🥺

She loves him that much? Plz that’s too much for his poor heart

He picked her up and spun her around

“AHHH SHE WALKED HER FIRST STEPS BECAUSE OF ME! YOHOOO!”

Meanwhile you and your husband are just staring at each other in confusion

Her first word was the classical mama but how and why she said it was absolutely heartwarming

So she was sitting in the lap of atsushi as he was showing her pictures of stuff so she can get to say anything

And then he reached the word queen with its picture

“And this is queen.”

“Mama!”

“Hehe, it’s a queen.”

“Mama!”

“Yeah, mama is a queen!”

“Yay!”

He was so happy cause he managed to film it and showed it to you

Let your reaction be of your choice <3

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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headheartbellarke · 4 years ago

Text

HOME | Charlie Gillespie

Requested by anon: "Hi! If request are open can you do a charlie imagine where him and the reader (she/her) met on a project a while back and have been friends for a while, but the reader kinda had a crappy home life so she gets overwhelmed by charlies family being so loving and perfect and she basically breaks down and feels like she doesn’t fit in and isn’t good enough for him? please and thank you so much, ur writing is amazing!!!"

PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x fem! reader

WARNING(s): mentions of abuse, trauma, anxiety, angst, fluff

WORDS: 2,036

SUMMARY: charlie takes co-star and girlfriend y/n home for christmas but that leads to self doubt in her (im so bad at these) [note: this takes place in 2021]

As Charlie pulls out the key from the ignition, I sigh, wringing my hands nervously. He unbuckles his seatbelt and faces me, giving me a bright, happy smile.

“My family is so excited to meet you.” He says, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“What if they hate me?” I whisper.

My boyfriend, Charlie, and I first met on the set of Charmed – we were both in the first episode, but I left it after that due to scheduling conflicts with my other show, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. I had been a part of CAOS since its first episode – I played the role of Sabrina’s cousin, Sarah Spellman.

Back then, we were just friends. After I left Charmed, we would text and call each other occasionally. Whenever we were in the same city, we would meet up – but that was hard considering we both had quite different lives. So, we didn’t think of each other as more than friends – sure I thought that he was attractive, but that’s it.

But, in 2020, after CAOS was cancelled, I got a call from the casting director of Julie and The Phantoms: she was the one who had previously cast me in CAOS, and she believed that I’d be perfect for the role of Julie’s British cousin who joins her school after her parents relocate to LA – I also play Reggie’s love interest.

I texted Charlie immediately after my manager finalized all the details for the new role. He had been excited and when shooting started in 2021, we were pretty inseparable.

After a few weeks, I had developed a major crush on him ad the rest of the cast had also picked up on that. They were also convinced that Charlie liked me (which I didn’t believe at that time but later found out that it was, indeed, true) and they used to tease us about it all the time. Finally, a couple weeks before production ended, he asked me out on a date and it’s been really, really great so far.

We’ve been dating for about nine months now and honestly, he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s my home – all my life I’ve always felt lost, but I feel like I truly belong with him.

Now, he laughs. “Baby. I promise you – they already love you. My mother’s been bugging me to bring you home ever since we started dating, and you’ve already met Megan, and she loves you.”

“If you say so.” I say, still not convinced.

He grins and we get out of his car and face his childhood home. I take a deep breath, shaking off my nerves. He knocks three times on the front door, and it opens immediately after.

A petite, blonde woman steps out, with a wide smile on her face. She opens her arms as Charlie yells, “Mamacita!”

“Mon chéri. Ça fait trop longtemps!”

“Je vous ai manqué!”

I have absolutely no idea what they are saying, but the scene in front of me is so heart-warming. Charlie’s mother is genuinely happy to see her son – one can tell by the way she’s holding him, almost like he’s a little child. Charlie is quite a couple inches taller than her, but he’s nestled his face into her shoulder.

I can’t stop a grin from breaking out on my face. It’s honestly rather lovely. But I also feel a slight pang in my heart knowing that no one ever greets me like this when I go home.

They separate from each other and she squeezes his shoulders, looking at him with so much love that I have to look away. I have never seen a mother look at their child like that, with such intense love. That’s dumb, I know. Mothers are supposed to love their children. But all my mother ever looks at me with is disappointment, anger, disgust, and – you get it.

She notices me next and claps her hands. “You must be Y/N!”

“Hi, Mrs. Gillespie. It’s so nice to meet you!” I extend a hand toward her.

“Aw, come here! You’re gorgeous.”

She pulls me in for a hug too, and for a moment I’m engulfed by the smell of white musk and the feeling of warmth.

We pull apart and I smile at her, genuinely. All my anxiety has washed away.

“My son is always talking about you, about how pretty you are and –”

“Let’s go inside!” Charlie quickly cuts her off, eyes widened as I laugh.

“But I wanna know what he says!”

Mrs Gillespie winks at me as Charlie turns scarlet. “I’ll tell you when he’s gone.”

***

Another roar of laughter erupts around the dinner table.

Honestly, I’ve never seen a family like this – a family so connected, so loving. All of Charlie’s siblings – from his three older brothers to his little sister are here for Christmas Eve, and all of them are teasing each other, telling childhood stories, and just having the best time. I was, too. That was until I suddenly realized how I don’t fit in here.

Everyone here grew up completely different than I did. When I was young, about two years old – my dad left my mom and I for another woman. I haven’t seen him since – although, he sends me a postcard and some money on holidays and birthdays. He’s travelling around the world with his new wife and is apparently ‘happier than he’s ever been.’

The reason he left is because kids ‘freak’ him out and he isn’t ‘ready’ for that kind of responsibility. I mean, it wasn’t like he was fifteen when he had me: he was twenty-seven, and already married to my mother for about two years then.

Naturally, my mother blames me for her divorce. I was born out of an accidental pregnancy, so my mother made sure to remind me every day that I was unwanted, and my birth was what ‘pushed’ him to leave us. Every single day, my mother told me that I shouldn’t have been born, that I was a mistake, that I was worthless, unlovable and so, so many more horrible things. She used to drink like crazy, and if I accidentally faced her in that state, she would sometimes hit me.

Years and years of abuse and all that childhood trauma led me to develop a fear of abandonment, trust issues, intimacy issues, anxiety, and depression. Throughout school, I had been closed off, unable to form relationships and friendships with other people. I had feared anything and everything – I couldn’t even maintain eye contact with people.

Of course, when I auditioned for CAOS and moved away to LA, away from that toxic environment, I got help and turned my life around. (My mother was incredibly happy to see me go since she had married another guy and now has a family with him – so I was the only thing left that reminded her of my father.) I learnt to accept, prioritize, and love myself – but I’m still working on that, of course.

But, I know, deep down, no matter how well I am, or how happy I am – there will always be a part of me that’s broken. I’ve grown to accept that, accept the fact that I’ll always carry the trauma with me.

But Charlie doesn’t. He’s lived a good life, and he deserves someone who can give him their everything – and that’s not me.

As much as I hate to say it, I’m not good enough for him.

He senses a change in my demeanour and squeezes my hand under the table. I give him a weak smile.

***

“Y/N/N, what’s wrong?”

I look up at my boyfriend. He has a look of concern on his face as he takes a seat next to me on the couch.

I sigh into the quiet. Everyone has fallen asleep, except Charlie and I – we are seated in his living room in front of the fireplace.

“Nothing. I’m just really tired.”

“That’s not true, Y/N. You were fine throughout dinner – oh my god, it’s the ice cream, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“The pistachio ice cream that Maman made. It was weirdly bitter, eh? It’s okay, you can tell me.”

I purse my lips. “No, Charlie. The ice cream was great.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been down since desert.”

“It’s not the ice cream, babe.”

“Okay, then, what is it?”

He looks at me expectantly, and I can sense that he’s feeling anxious.

“I just – I realized that I don’t fit in.”

He furrows his brows, but before he can say anything, I start speaking again. “Charlie, you have such a loving and perfect family. And you know how I grew up. What I went through. So, you know that I’m not used to this. I’m not – I’ve never seen love like this in a family, you know. And I don’t fit in here! While your mother was being so nice to me, I kept wondering when she’s going to scream at me. Or when your father was genuinely interested in me, I kept thinking that maybe he’s trying to find a way to get rid of me. It’s just – it’s just the way I grew up, and I’ll always be like this, Char. Your family is so nice, and it shocks me, honestly. And I think that maybe it’s better if you date someone who grew up the way you did, someone who’s like you. Because I have been broken my whole life, and I don’t think that I can give you everything that you need. I don’t think I’m good enough for you. You’re the best person that I’ve ever met, and I think you should be with someone who’s worthy of you.”

I whisper the last part, and feel a teardrop fall into the space between my collarbones. I look down because I’m too afraid of what he might say.

I hear him breathe out heavily and I feel him take my hands in his.

“Don’t you ever say that.”

“But it’s true –”

“Y/N. Don’t you dare doubt yourself. You are good enough. No, you’re perfect. You’re the strongest woman I know. I completely understand why you feel what you’re feeling right now.”

He scoots closer to me and cups my cheeks in his hands. “And it’s okay. It’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to feel shocked. That doesn’t make you a bad person, nor does it make you not good enough. In fact, it makes all the stronger – you went through so much as a kid, and still, you have space in your heart for me. You know, I never doubt the fact that you love me, ever. Because you always make me feel special, make me feel good about myself and always make sure that I’m happy. You always go out of your way to take care of me, and you always make me feel at home. I don’t want anyone other than you. I love you so much and I never, ever wanna lose you.”

I think I’m fully crying now, as Charlie continues, “It’s okay to feel that way. Take your time. But I’m never leaving you. You’re my person, and you’ll always fit in with me, baby. Always.”

“Charlie…”

I look at him properly, and I can see the pain in his eyes as a tear traces along the curve of his cheek. He sniffs, saying, “I’m sorry. I just can’t imagine being with anyone other than you.”

“Why are you so good to me?” I whisper, my throat still tight from the emotions.

“Because you deserve someone good, and I can only hope that I’m good for you.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shoulder as a sob escapes my body. “I’m so sorry, baby. So, so sorry.” I keep whispering that, while he rubs my back, saying ‘it’s okay.’

“I love you so much, Charlie. Honestly, thanks for being so good to me. You have no idea what you mean to me.”

I can feel him smile as he says, “I think I have a pretty good idea, yeah.”

***

jatp requests are open <3

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pastelsandpining · 3 years ago

Text

we’ll meet again

a rewriting to the ending of Ocarina of Time

words: 2347

warnings: angst. a lot of angst. read with caution

Masterlist

When the mangled body of the hog-like monster finally grows still, the sacred sword still hilt-deep in the crumpled corpse, Link knows then that it’s over. The years of sorrow, the loneliness of travel, everything that came with the heavy weight of pulling the world from the clutches of evil, is over. He withdraws the sword, but it takes an effort he didn’t think he had left. It’s heavier--or maybe it’s his limbs that are heavy, too exhausted to carry on any further. Adrenaline is a thing of the past and he takes two steps forward before his foot catches on a bit of loose debris. The Master Sword, his tool of time and of protection, slips to the soiled ground with a clang, and he’s following it. Part of him, the part too used to victories never meaning an end, expected the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

The only thing that wraps around him, catching him from hitting the rocky ground still levitating above the chasm of chaos, is a sea of gentle pink and purple tones. The touch is feather soft and strong enough to ground him all at once, and no longer is the world spinning, or burning in a sea of despair. It’s a comfort he hasn’t known since Saria—over seven years ago, but it feels like so much longer that he’s been craving it.

“Princess,” he greets in a hoarse, broken whisper. It’s swallowed by the fabric of her dress.

“Oh, Link,” she says, and it’s enough to make him lean his head against her chest. When her face finds his shoulder and he feels the warmth of her exhale on his neck, he chokes out a sob and digs his filthy, glove-covered fingers into the satin of the dress covering her back. He isn’t worthy of her touch or her comfort, but he’s too brokenly grateful to let her go.

Seven years of nothing and a mere two of shadow, of death and destruction and desolation, comes to an end, a result of nothing more than a man given too much power to handle, and Link does not feel the relief or the lifted weight that one would expect. All he feels is the suffocating fear that the body would move again, or that the crystal would encase her, and he would find himself stuck in a never ending cycle of heroic trauma.

But the arms of the princess are steady and she whispers another phrase, two of the simplest words that bear a heavy importance: “Thank you.”

He wonders what bit of her magic is responsible for how she still smells so good after running down several swirling cliffs and through burning, stuffy rooms. A vague realization hit him that he must smell awful, but he supposes it doesn’t matter when the world has been ending for the past nine years. His fingers are stiff when he tries to move them. He doesn't realize just how tightly he’s been holding onto her, or how hard they’re both shaking. He flattens his hands against her back, inhales her scent, loosens his arms, and relaxes his shoulders. His leg still stings from where Ganon’s blade had caught him, but it��s dull and doesn’t matter right now.

When he finds the strength to lift his head, everything around him is blue.

It’s a stark contrast to the dark skies that plagued Hyrule for months. It’s so different from the moody interior of blackstone walls and towering mirrors with grotesque mosaics of thirst and power. It’s too bright for his eyes, even if all he wants to look at is her. They’re still kneeling on the ground, except there’s nothing visible beneath them. Blue skies and cotton clouds stretch as far as he can see. The Master Sword is still there, telling him whatever’s holding them up is solid enough, and he reaches blindly for it when he finally retracts his arms. He drives the tip into the transparent (or maybe, reflective) ground and hauls himself up with a wince. It takes a minute for the spinning to stop. When he’s steady again, he extends a hand to her.

She takes it, gentle and promising, and Link helps Princess Zelda to her feet.

“Where…” he tries to ask, but her eyes soften and he no longer has a voice.

“Nowhere,” she replies. He feels her hold on his hand tighten. “We’re in a moment between time, a space away from Hyrule. I figured you, of all people, deserve an explanation.”

For all of his senseless meddling with time, he understood none of what she’d said. Thinking about it gave him a headache, so he didn’t. But why would he need an explanation?

“There’s no explanation worth saying,” he says, shaking his head.

“People go to great lengths when they have been wronged. You are one of them. I was so young, too naive to know what would happen. It was my plan that put you through so much and for that, I’m sorry.”

She looks so sad. It claws into his heart and tries to pull it out. Link shakes his head again, more desperately, and covers her hand with his.

“It’s an honor to help you, Princess,” he argues, as if he could make her forgive herself through the sheer force of will. “I would do it again and again.”

“Because you are kind and courageous. It’s in your blood, to be a hero.”

To be her hero, which was something he couldn’t say aloud.

“I feel empty,” he admits into the stretch of silence. “What happens now that it’s over?”

Because stories are not real. Stories that end with a suddenly happy life, like there was never any threat at all, never sit right with him. What’s a hero’s purpose once the villain is defeated? Princess Zelda, in all of her wisdom and power, is the only person who could answer that.

“What do you want to happen?” she asks.

Link frowns. If he’s honest, he’s never expected an ending. Logically, he knows he couldn’t go on forever. Either he would succeed or he would die trying, but it lasted for so long that the idea of a life after the war was nothing more than a fantasy. Now, with the prospect in front of him and just out of reach, he doesn’t know what he wants. He thinks of the forest, of Saria and of his friends, and knows that having it back is not an option. Even if it was, he knows it wouldn’t be the same.

He thinks about the contrast between the past and the present. He thinks about the lively people and colors and animals that once filled Castle Town to the brim, and the ghost town inhabited only by reanimated corpses that it’d become. He thinks of the civilizations he’s met—the Gorons, the Zora, and how devastated they were destined to be. He thinks of the woman in front of him, the princess with which this all started, and believes that she does not deserve to bear the burden of destruction alone.

He also doesn’t think he’s been asked that before. It’s always been, you must do this, and so he doesn’t know what it is that he wants.

“Is peace an option?” he asks, because he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to quiet the chaos in his head.

“That’s a complicated question,” Princess Zelda replies. Her hands slip from his and he aches with the urge to take them again. “Can you have peace without conflict? Are they really so easy to seperate? Hyrule was peaceful because a civil war brought about chaos. This moment in time is peaceful because you’ve laid to rest a terrible evil. I wish I could grant you what you seek.”

He wants to shrug, brush off her words like there was nothing profound or truthful behind them, but for all his courage, not even he could disrespect the princess. She does not deserve that. Instead, he asks,

“What do you want, Princess?”

Her reply comes fast, with a small and pained smile, “I’m afraid what I want isn’t something you can give me, Hero.”

He doesn’t like that title, Hero. Why can’t he be Link, nothing more, nothing less? For the same reason she can’t simply be Zelda, he supposes, and leaves it there with a frown.

“Is it that bad?” he asks. She shakes her head.

“I want, more than anything, for my people to be spared the suffering that Ganondorf-- that I have put them through. I want to undo my mistake, take back my meddling in something I was too young to understand. I want to restore everything that was, before the world ended.”

It’s a bold desire. Link understands where she’s coming from, because it was easier before the world ended. Back when his only struggle was wondering why he didn’t have a fairy like the rest of the Kokiri children. With all the power that Princess Zelda had, surely it was not impossible.

“You could go back to before,” he suggests, gripping the sword a little tighter.

“I could,” she agrees, “but I would leave so much behind.”

Link furrows his brows and takes a look at their surroundings. What would she be leaving behind? Did she not lose her entire kingdom? There must’ve been something he was missing, something he couldn’t see.

“I don’t understand,” he admits at last, turning his gaze to the Master Sword. “What’s left to lose?”

When he looks back up, Princess Zelda’s eyes are wet. He frowns again, wishing there was any sort of comfort he could offer her.

“I would lose you,” she says, and he feels his heart stop in his chest, “and the friendship we’ve built, and the lessons I’ve learned. Neither are worth giving up. It’s a difficult decision I don’t know how to make.”

Link doesn’t know what to say, so he extends a hand to her in a gesture he can only hope will provide some sort of comfort. When she takes it, he averts his eyes and busies himself looking around at what he could see of the ruined kingdom. He can’t pretend to know how she feels. Right now, he has nothing but her to keep him going. He’s outgrown his friends, his purpose has been fulfilled, what more is there for him to do? He could support Princess Zelda in whatever decision she makes, but even so, what could he do for her, really? Perhaps if there was any remnant of the kingdom that wasn’t fractured, they could rebuild, but at what cost? The expense of exhaustion and of the resources they didn’t have was too great. He knows nothing about governing, or anything else he might be required to do if he stayed with her--and gods, did he want to stay.

For her, he doesn’t think it’s much of a sacrifice at all. A kingdom of thousands of people is worth more than one lowly man. He does not know how to read. It was a silly thing, to be as old as him and not know how to do one of the simplest things. Navi’s done it for him for as long as she’s been around, and he doesn’t think someone who can’t read or write would make for a good companion in a time of need. He can be taught, but the time it would take simply wasn’t worth it.

He brings her gloved hand to his mouth, offers a kiss to her knuckles, and before he knows it, he’s pressing the Ocarina of Time into her hands.

“Your kingdom,” he says, “it needs you.”

“Link,” and she shakes her head and sounds broken but he presses further.

“You’re brilliant and just, and you deserve your fair reign over your people. Please, Princess, you deserve something for yourself.”

“Is a lifelong companion not good enough?” she asks. He feels her grip on the instrument tighten beneath his fingers.

“No. You have the chance to undo it all. Why settle with the cards you’ve been given?”

“I..”

She doesn’t look sure. Link has to admit that the idea is scary. Resetting the timeline was… difficult. It would undo everything he’s done up until now, reducing it to nothing more than a few years of bad dreams, and that idea made him feel sick. The possibility of never knowing her scared him more.

“We can get back what we lost,” he tries to convince her anyway. “You didn’t get to be a child.”

“Neither did you,” she argues, stepping closer. “Why should I get what you never had?”

“Then make it so we both get it.”

Her blue eyes narrow as she looks up at him. He doesn’t back down. The silence is pregnant and her gaze is intense, but he knows what he wants and it’s for her to get the chance she deserves. Backing down is not an option, no matter how much he wants to tell her that she can have whatever she wants from him.

“Link,” she says at last, freeing her hands so she could hold the ocarina to her chest. He thinks she wants to say something else, but she settles for, “Are you sure?” and he nods quickly, despite the tears he can feel stinging in his eyes.

“Go home,” he insists, lifting a hand to gently hold her face, “and I promise I’ll come find you.”

She smiles up at him, mumbling something about keeping the promise, and all he can do is smile back. When she lifts the ocarina to her mouth, Link decides simply to watch her until the arms of time take him back, away from her again but not for long.

When he comes to, in the Temple of Time, with the sword in the pedestal and his hands too small to hold it properly, that’s when Navi takes her leave. Link, renewed with the vigor of youth, turns around and runs towards the castle, as fast as his little legs can carry him.

#zelink #oot zelink #ocarina of time #ocarina of time zelink #my writing

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mindofharry · 4 years ago

Text

Garden Song

chapter 1 - motion sickness

It’s been two years since the divorce between Julie and Grayson. A lot has changed. Grayson wants Julie more than ever. Will she take him back?

TW: some of the stuff mentioned in this series might trigger some people. please don’t read if you get triggered easily!

“You need to leave before the boys wake up” Julie mumbled and Grayson nipped at her neck. It wasn’t meant to happen, not in this way. They got carried away — Julie was upset because of Ethan and Grayson just wanted to comfort her. So three episodes of Brooklyn nine-nine and a whole bottle of wine later, they ended up in Julies bed naked and somewhat embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time something like this happened, the night Ethan broke up with Julie, she went straight to Grayson. She didn’t even think which was why she was so frustrated.

Grayson put Julie through hell and back. With his cheating, drinking and just being a total dickhead. She’s been trying to distance herself in the nicest way possible. As you can tell, it’s not going very well.

“Hmm, i know you don’t want me to” Grayson hummed kissing down her neck.

“I don’t want you to leave, but sebastian knows what sex is. No lying anymore” Julie said with a smirk, Grayson groaned and rolled onto the ‘his’ side of the bed. It was weird for him to even say that, but he stays over here more than he does his own home. It’s safe to say, it’s his side of the bed. He wished Julie would let him stay in bed with her, instead of worrying about the boys. Julie is constantly worrying about Alexander and Sebastian, even more than she probably should.

She just doesn’t want them to get hurt again. And instead of talking with the boys and her therapist — she’s keeping it all inside and projecting it on other people. Luckily she’s made some good friends, so they know all the shit Grayson put her through. Julie met Sarah a couple months ago at a parent teacher meeting. Alexander bit her son — he’s going through a biting phase. Of course Sarah thought it was the funniest thing in the world, and now they’re both best friends. The same with Alexander and Sarah’s daughter Maria. Alexander gets all blushy around her which is the cutest thing.

Sarah would all kill Julie if she found out she was sleeping with the enemy (the enemy being grayson). Julie had too much whine, and sarah was talking about her divorce, and all it just sort of slipped out. It felt good to have another person to talk to.

“i’ll go make breakfast then?” he asked and Julie nodded getting up and pulling her silk dressing gown over her naked body. Grayson was sat up in the bed, watching her every move. “you’re undeniably sexy, you know that?” Grayson said pulling his boxers on.

Julie grinned and leaned against the bathroom door. “you’ve told me once or twice”.

Grayson sighed to himself in content as Julie hopped in the shower. He got up, only his boxers, all of his muscles and tattoos on show. He went downstairs and went straight to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. He had major deja vu. All the fights, the sex, the cheating — this kitchen had seen it all. Grayson is surprised that Julie didn’t just up and leave, he really wouldn’t of opposed at all. She deserved a happy ending, and Grayson really thought that was with Ethan.

Everyone thought that Ethan and Julie were meant to be after Grayson. That they would get married and do better.

But it was just so much worse.

No Ethan didn’t cheat or abuse her emotionally. But he promised. He promised Julie so many things, a happy life was one of them and that just didn’t happen. The first job that was thrown his way, he took it and left without so much of explanation. He just came home from the current job he had, ate the dinner Julie and the boys made him and then told Julie that night that he was leaving because he just couldn’t handle the pressure of being a dad and having a full time job he didn’t love. Of course, Julie was upset — she went straight to the person who fucking cheated on her, that’s how messed up she was after what Ethan did. And the fact that it wasn’t just for a job, it was because he wasn’t able to look after children.

Ethan promised marriage, more kids, a new home. And he gave shit, just like his brother. The Dolan twins were a drug, and Julie apparently just couldn’t get enough.

“Daddy?” a voice called out by the kitchen door. Grayson turned around with a big green to his youngest boy, Alexander. He had gotten so big after the last two years, his curls more prominent and god was he a tall five year old. Don’t get Grayson started on Sebastian — he’s like the tallest 10 year old Grayson’s ever seen. Julie always said they take after their daddy in that department.

“Hi, baby. You wanna help daddy make some pancakes for mama and Seb?” Grayson asked flipping a pancake over. Alexander nodded quickly with a smile and ran over to his dad, his favourite pink blanket now on the floor. He put his hands up, and Grayson lifted him up resting him on his hip. Julie raised such good boys, always wanting a cuddle, kiss or hug. Always listening and never fighting. The most mature boys ever. She a really good job, Grayson wished he was around more during those times.

“What are you doing up so early, little man?” Grayson asked and Alexander shrugged. “Heard you and mama” he said and Grayson pouted.

“Did we wake you?”

Alexander nodded resting his head in Grayson’s chest. “you can sleep some more” Grayson murmured kissing his forehead and continued making breakfast. About ten minutes later, alexander was up again helping grayson set the table for breakfast. “good job, buddy” Grayson grinned messing up Alexander’s hair.

Julie walked down the stairs hand in hand with Sebastian, she could smell the pancakes and coffee already. She missed having someone do this for her and the boys.

“Hey, honey” Grayson said as he saw Julie and Sebastian coming through the kitchen.

honey? that’s new.

Sebastian grinned and hugged his dad before sitting down beside his brother and digging into his pancakes. Julie walked over to grayson who was leaning against the island, drinking his coffee — still shirtless. She smirked and stood beside him.

“why don’t you stay over again tonight?” She asked and grayson smirked placing a hand on her hip. Julie bit her lip and tried to keep her breathing in check. “i’m going to fuck you so hard, Julie Dolan” grayson mumbled kissing her neck before walking off to the boys.

Julie blushed and placed her hand on her forehead. Was she flustered or nauseous? Maybe her period was on the way.

Her period..... shit. Julie opened her phone and looked at her calendar counting the weeks down.

She had missed her period. Fuck, this isn’t happening. Just went things with grayson were getting good. This has to happened — a pregnancy scare. God really was testing her. Everything was just going so well, there was no stress. They boys are happy in school and at home, they laugh and smile and they rarely cry anymore. Grayson is nicer, less stressed and such a good dad. And julie, julie is feeling amazing, like she was doing something good and right with her life. She had friends, she’s on the parents council, her and grayson have a good relationship and the boys are better than ever.

Why does this have to happen? They don’t need a pregnancy scare right now.

If she was pregnant, she knows it grayson’s as she’s only had sex with him for the past two months. Not consistently — but he is the only one shes been with since ethan.

“Mama?” Alexander called out making julie put down her phone and put on her biggest smile.

“Coming” Julie said taking the coffee Grayson made her over to the dining table where her boys are. Grayson was confused and gave her a look, but julie just smiled shaking her head.

“Eat it up, pumpkin” Julie said pushing Sebastians curls away from his eyes. Grayson smiled looking at his little family. Maybe this time, he’d get them back. No olivia, no drinking, no ethan and no surprises.

Nothing is going to get in the way of him and julie getting back together.

Sebastian and Alexander decided to spend the day with their friends down the road. They have their cousins up for the weekend so they’re having a bit of a party. Julie and Grayson want them to be out and making friends, so of course they let them go. Sebastian was a little clingy, but Alexander is a little heartbreaker. But once Sebastian saw the bouncy castle, he was ok for you and grayson to leave.

Meaning you and grayson had the house to yourselves for a couple hours.

“We’ve got the house to ourself” Julie said as she walked upstairs. Grayson followed after her like a lost puppy.

“Why don’t we take advantage of that?”

Julie took off her dress, dropping it to the ground before leaning on the bed only her matching underwear set, red, just how grayson liked it. Grayson raised an eyebrow and walked over to Julie standing in between her legs. He bent down and placed his lips on hers, Julie whimpered at his touch.

“I bet you’re already soaked” Grayson whispered dropping his hand to her panties, pulling them down. He hummed to himself as he saw her pussy glistening.

“I was right” He smirked as he watched Julie squirm. “touch me” she begged and grayson laughed to himself.

“You don’t tell me what to do” Grayson stated moving away from julie. “Now strip down and move up the bed” He said and Julie nodded quickly undoing her bra and kicking off her underwear that was already by her ankles. She felt herself down her thighs, god she needed him so much. Grayson took off his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his black boxers, he crawled up Julies body on all fours, when he reached her stomach he placed a kiss at her belly button, then licked all the way up to her breasts.

Julie felt so vulnerable, somehow Grayson could feel that. So he pecked her lips and whispered “you’re beautiful” Julie smiled and pecked his lips. Grayson kissed down her stomach and finally, he was paying attention to Julies sex. “Well, hello” He mumbled, his breath hitting off of her core making julie moan. He parted her legs even more and buried his head in between them, kissing your thighs and stomach.

“you’re so fucking wet for me, baby” Grayson moaned as he slowly ran a finger up her slit. Julie moaned and bucked her hips at his touch. Grayson smirked at julie as began to rub the smallest, softest circles on her clit.

“Please....” Julie moaned and grayson looked up with a grin.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me”

Grayson pressed himself further into julies body, julie felt his boner through his tight boxers. “i need you gray” Julie whimpered and that was enough for him. He pulled his boxers off, nearly falling off the bed to get the condoms from the bedside tables. Once he was ready, he smirked at julie teasing her nipples a little.

Grayson placed a kiss on her lips, before easing himself into her. Julie grabbed onto his broad shoulders pushing him deeper into her. “Fuck, Jules” Grayson moaned his head falling back. Julie took this as her opportunity to turn them around so she was on top.

“Always knew you were a secret dom” Grayson teased, making julie giggle. She eased graysons cock back into her, letting out a loud moan as she began to move up and down on his cock. “fuck, faster julie” Grayson moaned, his fingers digging into her hips. “so good” Julie moaned and Grayson nodded pulling her over so he was on top again. One leg was on his shoulder, the other laying on the bed. Grayson picked up the pace, making Julie scream out loud, becoming dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum” She moaned and grayson nodded pounding into her.

“Come on, baby, cum with me”

After both coming down from their climaxes, they both laughed and grayson was in Julies arms. “This is nice” Julie said running her fingers through his messy hair. Grayson nodded a kissed her chest.

“I miss us” Grayson admitted and Julie fit a sharp pain in her stomach, nerves? Butterflies?

No, she was going to throw up. She pushed grayson off of her and ran to the bathroom, spilling her breakfast into the toilet. No, No, this isn’t happening. She is not pregnant, she’s not letting this ruin her relationship.

Grayson picked up his shirt a brought it in with him. Julie was still puking her guts out, so he just put her hair up in a hair band (the best he could) and rubbed her back. She groaned into the toilet, sitting down fully. Grayson put the shower on and helped her in it.

“You ok?” He asked washing her hair. Julie nodded smiling “think it was your pancake mix” she teased and grayson rolled his eyes washing the shampoo out of her hair. He knew her full routine — she has a lot of hair and she likes to look after it. Grayson made sure her learnt it so he could wash her hair for her when she was sick or tired.

He knew it would come in hand one day.

“I think i ate something off, last night. Haven’t done the food shop yet” She explained, not completely lying. Grayson nodded and continued to wash her hair. “I have to head home tonight to get some work done, but i can help you with the food shop tomorrow?” he asked and julie smiled at the offer.

“That would be nice, gray”

They stayed in the shower for a little while longer, just enjoying each other’s company. Grayson had to leave, but he kissed her goodbye and promised he be here early tomorrow morning and not to move a muscle, he didn’t need her puking again. Julie had a glow about her, she smiled and wore her dresses again. Her hair was looked after and her skin looked amazing. And it was such stupid silly things, but it meant the world to her. Even last year, a year after the divorce, she still didn’t feel herself.

Julie felt amazing.

After getting dressed again, she picked up her phone and called sarah.

“Hey, i need you to pick me up something”

“yeah, for sure. What do you need?” Sarah asked and Julie closed her eyes leaning against the door.

“A pregnancy test”

Sarah didn’t say anything for a few second before, nodding to herself. “I’ll be there in 10. you’ll be ok, whatever the news” Sarah reassured before hanging up. Julie dropped her phone on the bed, sighing to herself. She found herself looking in the mirror, imagining how she would look with a little bump now after changing so much.

Stay positive - pun no intended.

Sarah arrived 10 minutes later as she promised pulling out a chocolate bar and a pregnancy test. Julie smiled pulling her friend into a hug. “Thank you for doing this” Julie said and sarah nodded squeezing her friend. “Of course, Jules, i’d do anything for you” She whispered and pulled away.

“Now go take the test. And i’m here, whether it’s negative or not”

Julie walked into the bathroom and took the test, setting 3 minutes timer on her phone. She remembers doing this with alexander and sebastian, she was 19 and 21 if she remembers correctly. And she had no friends, barely had a husband. She was so alone. This time, she has mountains of people and it really doesn’t make her feel any better. Julie was a only teenager when she felt pregnant with sebastian, she planned to go to college and get her dream job. Get a big, huge home and then get married. Julie took that pregnancy test in a gas station, by herself. And she cried all night after finding out, set on getting an abortion. But grayson convinced her to keep the baby — they would be a happy family, together.

Well, now she’s a mom to two kids, divorced, sleeping with her ex husband and had sex with his brother multiple times. Life really couldn’t get any better for Julie Dolan.

3 minutes ended and she was too scared to look at the test. “Sarah, can you please just read it” Julie cried and sarah quickly came into the bathroom and looked down at the test.

“You’re pregnant, Julie”

#garden song !#grayson dolan #motion sickness!#grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan x y/n #grayson x reader #grayson dolan oneshot #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan headcannon #grayson dolan concept #dad grayson dolan #dad grayson #grayson dolan series

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alice-in-wonderart · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request a pregnancy hcs for Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, Wei WuXian, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen? Thank you!!!

Hello, hello, dear. These turned out a tad shorter, since it's 5 characters, (and pregnancy is Xtreme to write) but regardless - I hope you enjoy ❤️ One fluffy request coming right up~

Lan Wangji

"I'm pregnant" "Mn"

It's not like he isn't happy, he just needs some time to realise what you've just told him. And boy oh boy, does he realise it.

*cue smol content smile*

Lan Wangji has already taken care of a child, he raised Lan Yuan. But a baby? That would be a novelty to him for sure. But a novelty he's more than ready for. Even if he doesn't think so.

Despite that, he'd take great measures to make sure he'll be the best father possible.

His excitement would be hidden, but fully noticeable to you. His eyes would sparkle more, he'd generally appear more relaxed, he'd spend more time with you. (as much as possible, that is) The only other person who'd see the excitement in his icy stare would be Lan Xichen, who'd be the second to learn of the pregnancy, right after LWJ.

Now, he isn't the #DreamHusband™️ without a reason. He'd be fully prepared with anything you might need during those 9 months. He'd talk to his brother, albeit reluctantly, for any advice on how to deal with any side effects of the pregnancy, so he could make sure you are heathy and happy.

He'd silently watch over you, always making sure you are not in harm's way. His cold glares would double towards anybody who'd dare approach you about anything, outside of Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian and Lan Sizhui.

He wouldn't necessarily stop you from going anywhere, although he'd want to but rather - he'd just tag along. You want to go down town? He'd escort you. Want to cook something? He'll help. Oh look, a puppy! Protective husband mode - on.

Sometimes, before the two of you go to sleep, he'd lay a strong hand over your stomach, gently rubbing your skin, basking in the joy, that you are carrying his child - the product of your love. And should the baby kick? A surprised, almost mute yelp would escape his thin lips, before he'd move to leave a gentle kiss on your stomach.

He never thought, never even imagined, that one day he'd have a family of his own, with a wonderful wife right next to him, and a child to call him papa. He didn't even so much as thought he could have one of those "happy endings". It seemed such distant a future, almost as if it was make-belief. Yet during those rare moments in the dead of night, he'd think, that perhaps a happy ending is possible. Perhaps he'd get to experience that normal, domestic lifestyle loving families have. And then sleep would come a little easier, knowing you'll stay by his side until the very end.

Lan Xichen

"Oh?"

What wonderful news! He'd be the most calm and collected out of everybody. He'd hug you, pouring all of his love into the hug, promising to be by your side until the very end, that he'll try his best to be a good father, to take care of you and your child and to love you unconditionally. (which he already does)

The two of you decided not to tell everybody just yet. It would be while before it became noticeable, so you decided to keep it to yourself to avoid unnecessary attention and possible bad omens or whatever. The only person who'd know would be Lan Wangji.

At first glance, nothing much would change. He'd still have responsibilities to get to, he'd still be your loving, kind, compassionate husband.

But every time he is left alone, his mind would immediately travel to you. In fact, such occurrences would begin happening while he's presumably busy too. Zoning out and day dreaming while working were pretty uncommon for Lan Xichen, yet the constant thought of you and your well-being would cloud his vision.

That, in turn, would be a dead giveaway that something was happening in his more personal life. The first to address this would be none other than Wei Wuxian, who'd turn to LWJ. Slowly but surely, more people would begin noticing the slight, yet unusual changes in Lan Xichen. He'd leave a little earlier, reply a little later and he could be spotted with you every second away from work.

When you decided to finally announce the pregnancy, a collective "I knew it" would be all but the response you'd expect.

Behind closed doors, he'd be so sweet and affectionate with you. And don't get me started on how much he'd play music to the baby you. He'd want your child to grow up with music, which included singing and playing different instruments around you before it was even born. And you wouldn't really mind - after all, Lan Xichen's music rivalled the gods' voices, or so it was said.

In fact, with time you'd realise, that your child would indeed react to his music. If the baby was exceptionally wild, kicking and moving around, Lan Xichen's calm melodies would put it at rest. (had this happen to a friend, it was crazy) Even his voice would act as a natural lullaby to the baby.

And you already knew, that the child would grow up to fall in love with music, just like his father.

Wei Wuxian

"Wait what? Really???"

*Happy pterodactyl noises*

The happiness. The joy. The love. The pride. Wei Wuxian would be beyond ecstatic! He'd be on cloud nine the moment your announcement hit his ears. He'd have the most OVER-THE-TOP MELODRAMATIC reaction to your pregnancy imaginable.

Imagine a tsunami. Now replace the water with joy. This is how EXTREME his happiNESS IS.

But then, he'd sit down and talk to you about it properly, about how this baby would change your life together, what you'd need to do, how you'd do it. Together you'd figure out your future, as much as possible that is.

He'd make sure both you and the baby would be well taken care of, well-fed, living a nice, domestic life. He knew poverty, famine and sickness. They were his old friends. He knew what is was like growing up without much on your plate. He knew of every struggle imaginable, which came with being less fortunate, so he'd be ready to do absolutely everything to provide for you.

Once he settled down, believing he's planned ahead well, the realization would finally kick in - Wei Ying, The Yiling Patriarch, Founder of Demonic Cultivation and the pinnacle of darkness and despair, was about to be a father. And with that came in the insecurities. He'd constantly worry whether he'd be a good father, whether he'd set a good example, whether his reputation would ruin his child's life. He knew how judgemental society is, how quick it is to draw conclusions and ostracise those, who stood out. In those moments you'd have to remind him of how far he's come and how much farther you'll go together - as a family.

And a family he's wanted all of his life.

He's had some practice when it comes to kids. After all, for a brief moment he'd taken care of little A-Yuan. But then again, he was already old enough to speak, talk and think completely on his own. Wei Wuxian had never had the chance to actually take care of a baby, a newborn. That thought both terrified and thrilled him.

He'd be quick to announce of the pregnancy to all of his closest friends, but try to avoid spreading the news. Even though he was no longer considered the villain™️, you can never know who's scheming from within the shadows. With that in mind, the Twin Jades, Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang, Wen Ning and the Juniors would be the ones he'd excitedly inform. Soon he was going to have his own progeny! Would it be a strong, fearless handsome boy like its father, or an intelligent, masterfully cunning and dangerously beautiful girl like its mother? Stay tuned to find out!

And boy, would he celebrate the pregnancy! You'd almost make him quit drinking just to sympathise with you. Almost.

Xiao Xingchen

"We're going to have a family? Together?"

Words wouldn't be enough to describe what he'd feel. Fleeting worry in between bouts of utter elation and delight, mixed with a hint of surprise and a whole lot of internally sappy thoughts occupied his better judgement. He'd pull you in for a gentle hug, before moving to rest a hand on your head, stroking your hair, whispering lovingly how delightful a family with you would be and how he couldn't wait to meet his child.

He'd want to teach his child everything he knows, everything he was taught and everything he believes in. You'd have to remind him, that there's still much time to go before he'd have a chance to do that. A toddler can only do so much, you see.

Of course, the question about his endless travels would come up eventually. Truthfully, Xiao Xingchen would be more than willing to set his travelling aside for the time being, at least until your child is old enough to travel with you. In fact, a domestic family lifestyle suddenly wouldn't seem so out-of-reach for him and that would bring him utter delight.

The thought of a having his own loving family with a wonderful wife and adorable children had rarely crossed his mind, seeming as nothing more than a distant thought. But as you stood beside him, with a small baby bump and a child on the way, he'd realise that indeed the gods had smiled his way in the best possible way.

He'd often rest his hands on your stomach, wanting to feel the baby kick. Of course, he'd also use that excuse to be ever-closer to you. Physical affection would double, as Xiao Xingxhen found himself attached to you whenever any of you had time.

You two would often joke around about the baby too, since laughter was something sacred to both of you. And Xiao Xingchen would absolutely never fail to make you laugh, whenever worry would overcome you.

" Maybe our child will be as tall as a giraffe" "A-Chen, my love, it's 3 in the morning. Go to SLEEP."

He'd never taken care of a child before, hell you were his first love, but you'd seen him around kids when passing through different villages. His caring nature and innocent heart made him a wonderful father.

He'd never expected to one day have a family, but the very thought that you were there and you were carrying his child, would make his heart swell with pride and love. After all, he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Song Lan

"..."

Tall, dark and handsome over here would be utterly starstuck. He never thought he'd get to a point in his life, where he'd actually become a father. He never thought he'd have children, who would become his legacy. And as all that raced through his head, worry swept over him. Did YOU want that?

"Are you happy...we're having a baby?" The first words he'd utter.

"Of course! Are you not?"

The moment he sees your worried expression, his eyes would soften and he'd pull you in, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. "I am surprised, worried, yet thoroughly overjoyed." he'd mumble into your hair and the world around you would melt away.

Song Lan is a man of a few words, but many actions. He'd become twice as protective, keeping a steady hand on your shoulder as you walked thorough town, going out of his way to make sure you're comfortable and content, safe and sound, and of course happy.

He'd try his best to spoil you, getting you absolutely everything you might want or need. He'd even cook for you! He'd put you as his number one priority. After all, you were all he had left.

Would he silently panic whenever your stomach hurt, or you were feeling sick, or just in general felt any discomfort? Yes. Has he read a ton about pregnancy to make sure he was prepared for anything? Yes. Did he imagine every worst-case scenario in existence? Yes. Did any of that happen whatsoever? No. But Song Lan - big scary, dark and broody Song Lan, would absolutely cower at the thought that something so much as MIGHT go wrong. Of course, he wouldn't show it.

Well into the later stages of the pregnancy, he'd try to spend as much time with you as possible, to make sure he was there when the baby was going to be born. You'd already have a few names planned out, no matter the gender. The two of you would be READY. Hands down the most prepared.

He'd often lie with you, imagining what it would be like, being a father. He'd wonder whether you'd have a girl or a boy, whether it would resemble you or him more, whether it would be quiet and stone-faced, or kind-hearted and cheerful. And your answer to all of his what ifs would remain the same. "We're about to find out."

And those exact words would make his heart swell, both with love and anticipation. Of course, he wouldn't show it. But you knew better.

Thank you for reading~

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swimfuel · 4 years ago

Text

okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

#humanstuck #vantas family #.

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iwillhaveamoonbase · 4 years ago

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Flowers

My lone submission for the Rayllum Valentine’s event. Warning: this fic contains mentions of post-partum depression. Canon-verse, but does involve Rayla still being ghosted

-------------------

Rayla growled in frustration as she threw the letter in the fire. “Ray-” Callum murmured from the side, holding their week-old daughter. Aisling was the most beautiful thing Rayla had ever seen, with her father’s green eyes and brown hair with ten fingers and ten toes. The most elven thing about her was the little horn stubs on the top of her head.

“Don’t, Callum. Please.”

“We’ll make them understand.”

“How?! You freed Runaan, Lain, Tiadrin, and many others from those coins. We saved Zym and reunited him with Zubeia. We defeated Aaravos and it’s STILL NOT ENOUGH. They will never unghost me and let me go back home.” Rayla felt the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and tried to hold them back, but they poured out. “And now I’m getting hormonal and just…UGH.”

She didn’t resist when she felt Callum come up behind her and wrap his arm around her waist. “I’m sorry, Ray. I don’t know why they are being so stubborn. You don’t deserve this, but no matter what, you have me and Aisling, and Ezran and Soren. You ARE home.”

“You don’t get it.”

Sighing, he moved away from her. “What don’t I get? Didn’t we agree that this is your home now? Didn’t we say that, no matter what, we are each other’s home?”

“And I stand by that. But you cannot possibly understand what I am going through. You still have your home. You haven’t been banished and you can come and go as you please. I need weeks of planning to not only go see my parents, but if I want to see my childhood homes, nobody can see me. My culture, my language, everything, is basically lost to me. You don’t get it.”

Callum was quiet for a while, perhaps minding their daughter. Rayla winced as she continued looking at the fire. Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt even more terrible. She didn’t feel like she had taken to being a parent nearly as well as Callum had. Maybe she wasn’t meant to be a parent. She loved Aisling with everything she had, had carried the halfling in her belly for nine and a half months and delivered the child for hours, but she was also crying more, angered quicker, and didn’t stop Callum from getting out of bed at night to tend to the baby. If anything, she hoped he would so she didn’t have to.

Callum finally came back to her and wrapped both his arms around her. “You’re right, Ray, I don’t get it. I cannot understand your pain and frustration. And now that we have a child, I’m sure your feelings have only grown stronger because you want to share all of those things with her. But I have to believe that we can make them welcome you back because I’ll hate them if I don’t. We’re trying to forge peace and hate doesn’t belong anywhere near that.”

“I haven’t even thought about how it would affect Aisling. Gods, I’m a terrible mother.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am. I gave her a Xadian name and she can’t spend time in Moonshadow territory? She’s cut off from half of herself and I’m sitting here thinking about how it affects me.” Rayla felt the panic rising in her chest. “Callum, what if she hates me? All I do is fuck up with her. I’m not bonding with her like I should. She already adores you more and I’m just there.”

“Look at me. Please.” Slowly turning, Rayla raised her eyes to meet his, shocked at the tears in them. “You aren’t fucking up. You’re having a hard time, but that’s not that weird. You heard Sabah and Amaya. Most new mothers feel like this, and if it lasts longer, we’ll get you help. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad mother or something is wrong with you. What did the mid-wife say?”

“That birth is traumatic for some and it takes longer to heal the mind than the body.”

“What else?”

“That, because I don’t have a support system from my home and my culture, I’m more at risk.”

“I’m so sorry that this is happening and I wish I could fix it for you. I would fly into Silvergrove now and make them take you back if I thought it would work. But you are not screwing up with Aisling. She’s not cut off from half of herself because she has you. If you want to only speak to her in High Elven, I will support that. If you want to teach her to read it, I will find books every time we go to Xadia and ask Janai for some. I’ll order ingredients from Xadia so she can have Xadian food. I promise, I will do what I can to give you both a connection to your home because, even though we are each other’s home, you do still need a connection your culture. Aisling does, too.” Wrapping her arms around him tight, Rayla’s shoulders shook as she silently sobbed in his arms. Callum kissed the top of her head and held her close, rocking her side to side as he so easily did their baby.

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Rayla rolled her eyes as she stared at the curtains Callum had pulled over part of their bedroom. He said there were changes coming to the garden and it was a surprise so she wasn’t allowed to look. It had been several months since the Council’s latest rejection of her return to Silvergrove and she was slowly starting accept that she would always be rejected. All four of her parents had visited Aisling and had adored their grandchild, promising to visit as often as possible and give her a connection to her culture. Lain and Tiadrin were even considering permanently moving to Katolis so they could be more active in Rayla’s life and make up for lost time.

Stroking Aisling’s cheek with the back of her fingers, Rayla held her bairn close. Sabah had been a big help in the journey into motherhood, visiting often and letting Rayla freely voice her concerns and fears. Months ago, Rayla had feared the judgmental eyes of others for not being close enough to her child, but she was slowly learning that it really was different for everyone. Tiadrin had shyly admitted she had had a hard time post-partum with Rayla as well; lying in bed for days on end and Runaan and Ethari and Lain having to check in on her. She still felt like a failure some days, but her child was healthy and growing with a flush on her cheeks. “I love you, even if you do wake me and your father up. We need to get you sleeping through the night, wee one.”

A knock of the door interrupted her gentle scolding, causing her to look up. “Princess Rayla?”

“Aye?”

“Prince Callum requests you and Princess Aisling join him in the garden.”

“We’ll be there.” Standing up, she held Aisling close and left her bed chambers. The trip to the gardens was a short one, but Callum had covered all the windows so Rayla couldn’t accidently get a peak at what he was doing. “We’re finally going to see what your father has been up to. I’ll bet you five whole jelly tarts he built a pond just to practice ocean magic.”

“I would take that bet.” She turned to the side to see Callum waiting for her. “Ready to see the surprise?”

“I’ve been ready.” She turned to the glass doors leading to the garden and waited for Callum to open them. He smiled at her and turned the handles. As the doors opened, Rayla was hit with the smell of moonlilies. She hadn’t smelled that scent outside of soap in years and her eyes watered in nostalgia and happiness. Callum had planted a whole field of them as well as having built a gazebo. “How did you do this?”

“Well,” running a hand through his hair, he gave her a sheepish smile, “it certainly wasn’t easy. The Council is being so stubborn with unghosting you, but I managed to convince them with a letter a day to let me have enough moonlilies to do this. I told them that it was the least they could do for the mage who had decoined several of their citizens. I know it’s not the same thing, but, at least, you can now have a piece of home right here in Katolis. Let me show you the gazebo.”

He led them over, hand on the small of her back, and Rayla marveled at all the flowers before her. Moonlilies only bloomed at night, but their scent was still unmistakable. The gazebo was wrought iron and featured multiple Moonshadow knots and symbols. There were cushions and benches for sitting on. “I could spend all day here.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you. This is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I love you, Ray. This is our home, and, I hope, I made it feel a bit more like home for you.”

“You did. I love you, too.”

The three of them spent all day in the gardens, having lunch and dinner in the gazebo and later joined by Ezran and Soren. Sabah, Marcos, and their child joined them as well, Sabah’s heavily pregnant belly leading the way. Rayla and Sabah chatted in their mixed High Elvens while Callum made his attempts and the little one in their group hung on every word. It still hurt Rayla that she couldn’t go home freely, but she did feel a bit more at home now. Maybe one day, she would get to show Aisling and any other children she and Callum had Silvergrove and other Moonshadow territories. Until then, the gardens would do quite nicely.

------------------------

This fic is something of an ode to my mother who had post-partum depression and had no real support system (family more than a 1000 miles away) besides my father and an ode to my grandmother who had her last child in a country and a culture that were not her own and who regrets not teaching her children more about her language and culture or about my grandfather's (English was the common language between them, so that's what they spoke in the house). I tried to convey their thoughts and feelings to the best of my abilities and to bring in the realties of raising a child in a multicultural, international relationship.

#rayllumvalentines #rayllum #rayllum fanfic #moonbase fanfics

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claybefree · 4 years ago

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A Letter to Josh Poteat

To be honest, I don’t know why I’m writing you this. It should have been the art I made for my ex-wife Mary in 1995, that she gave back to me in 2008 after I left her, that I later put in the trash. The art you told me recently got you working with shellac. It should be that I’m giving you, instead of this depressing thing about how I haven’t spoken with the oldest of my children in almost nine months, and the younger not since two Christmases ago.

I guess because when we talked about it before, I can’t remember exactly, maybe you asked in passing, “How’s the kids?” and I didn’t have an answer at the time. Maybe because I think you’ll understand me, like you always did. I haven’t been sleeping again lately, and this is when my mind wanders to the man I read about who died, trapped in a cave, but I don’t want to tell you about him. It’s too awful. If I find my mind lingering on him, I get seized by a whole body panic and I have to get up.

When I first got sober and couldn’t sleep, I went to war nightly with God. My mind was a scorched battlefield, blackened, shelled earth churned from trenches to craters. These days it resembles Zone Rogue in France, given back to nature and forbidden, saturated with ordnance, hundred year old arsenic lingering in craters. The toxic woods, wild and hoary, haunted now by deer and wild boar, trenches filled in with vines.

There is this vision I carry, not quite of myself- An old man alone in a mouldering trailer in the woods, bitter, childless and insane. No doubt, you have known such men. When I first got sober, he figured heavily in my mind- I considered this an alcoholic death even if I managed to stay clean.

It’s cold mornings like these- when I’m up early to feed the yowling cats, but again not quite early enough to manage to write, I wonder if perhaps he’s already arrived. I get on my worn out coat hanging by the leaky back door I haven’t fixed yet and head out into the frozen mud to free the chickens from their coop. The cracked tile floating underfoot like a shit-covered mosaic, and I remember to grab the screwdriver. I’m not using it to kill anyone, it’s to prize the eight little half-domes of ice from cups of their watering bucket. You know how this works. I always figured that, being a country-boy, you grew up with the same tales of horrors perpetrated against these birds, or else, like me, witnessed them firsthand.

Summer gets up and I finish my coffee with her as she tapes up my sprained hand. I try to get out the door before her kids wake. To facilitate quiet conversations that have a better chance of happening if I’m not around.

Pointing the truck toward Southside, it’s crossing the Powhite bridge where it really starts to bother me. Likely because it’s this point on the other side of the bridge, I’m only a mile away from their house. I ignore the river, bloated and steel grey, I’m looking for the nameless creek that empties into it there. I’m sure you know it, completely fabricated, it passes under Forest Hill and the train tracks. It’s cold outside the cab of my truck, but I’m not fooled by the last groan of winter. Studying the woods alongside the road, accessible as they aren’t yet burdened but the weight of all that green, I’m not sure what I'm looking for. Lost children perhaps. The sandy stretch where it emerges from snaking around behind the toll station is lined there with birches, flaking and slender, and shouldered with granite as it runs fast from a glut of late March thaw.

I’ve been going this way for a little over a month, filling a friend’s garage with sawdust from fabricating casework for bookshelves, paying particular attention to whatever happens to be going on with the creek as it seems to determine the flavor of grief for that week. Throughout the winter It’s been ever present, with me to the point I feel like there's something wrong, like a vitamin supplement I'm not taking.

Even though it’s been a string of bad days, the garage is warm enough, and I’ve been doing this work long enough I can rip down material on the table saw letting sadness wash over me without worry of losing a finger. I pay special attention to the music I listen to, so that I don’t have to take time and fall apart. At the end of the day I’ll sweep the dust-pile under the saw into a bucket for the chickens. There’s a ruined tire from the Harley I keep filled for them to bathe in. Which reminds me I haven’t told you about Greg the Bastard.

When Summer brought them home a year ago as chicks, they were unsexed, and as they grew, we inadvertently wound up with two roosters. Even though Greg is much bigger, he’s still number two and it’s made him skittish and unpredictable. Fierce Greg the Magnificent, Hen Raping Greg. He charges the dog as well as the kids now, and he’s even started to buck up on me. He stalks the yard like boys and men you and I have both known all our lives- insecure, large and dangerous. He doesn’t scare me, I’m more afraid the day will come when I will have to kill this animal.

In my twenties, Liz King, who you might know, got me a job after school let out with a woman I won’t name here. Another artist, she lived in an old farmhouse down Jeff Davis Highway and had been sexually assaulted by a man there. My job was to help powder and paint the place in order to put it on the market as she didn’t feel safe there anymore. We painted the whole inside. Flying the back roads in her pick-up to some Paint store way out Hull street, she told me how the man had befriended her dogs beforehand and how he threatened to kill her if she looked at him. I don’t remember asking her about it, just the image of her long legs in cut-off shorts clutching and shifting the small truck all over Southside. I made it most mornings, except after getting home late from a Rancid show in Hampton, I was too hungover and didn’t get to her place til well after noon. She was gone, but had worked the whole morning by herself. Later that day, when I called Liz to tell her how I fucked up, she fired me over the phone.

I bring all this up because she owned a lone rooster named Ajax, who hated me. Specializing in ambush tactics, I wasn’t safe anywhere in the yard from Ajax. The lady usually escorted me in from the gate, but heading out to the shed was dangerous. I can still feel him on the backs of my bare legs. Once, while rolling the living room ceiling and overwhelmed by the fumes of oil based primer, I stepped out on the front porch to dry heave a minute and catch my breath. Ajax heard and came stalking around the corner. Incapacitated, I cussed him, but head lowered, he came for me, creeping up the steps one terrible talon at time.

Later I made a six foot tall portrait of Ajax as best I could remember him. Crimson comb like a child’s depiction of fire out of control, waddles surrounding the beak blazing and reckless. The emerald of the sickle feathers a cyclone of green. Hock, shank and spur a series of harsh, black lines. Very Twombly-esque, it’s still hanging in my dad’s office. Based on this one hangover, I went on to make work for the next ten years depicting the Battle of Troy as a series of cock-fights. Achilles the Terrible dragging Man-killing Hector through the streets of Troy. That sort of thing. The drawing I made Mary came from that run.

I go home by way of the Huguenot bridge, because the Nickel bridge takes me directly in front of the house where my children live, which no matter how I’m doing, always threatens to cave my head in. If I go that way, I always think about stopping, and kneeling outside in the cold, perfect grass, with the thought if I wait long enough they might come out to see me.

I know it’s merely grief, the same garden variety of depression, that Chris Cornell said in an interview once was no less dangerous and could just as easily land a man on the end of a rope.

But that is not my way. I’ll drive home to Summer and her kids, help with dinner, watch TV and bed by ten thirty. Regardless. And if I find myself lying awake and the void comes, I won’t scream into it like the old days, I’ll sing to it. I don’t know why, maybe it’s a lament. Maybe I think my children will walk out of the darkness and into my arms.

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

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Heartbreak Hotel (d.s.) - Chapter One

A/N Hey there, ladies and gents! It’s time to be swept away into an alternate universe where 1950s LA is the place to be. This is my first ever soulmate au and it took a lot of planning to make everything fit just right so I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: It’s 1958 and summer has just begun, sending the teenagers of Los Angeles into warm weather freedoms and part time jobs. Eighteen-year-old Daniel finds himself spending his days trying to find his soulmate and he refuses to give up until he has her.

Los Angeles in 1958 was a thriving city of luxury and fame; housing many of the greats and certainly more to come in upscale Beverly Hills mansions with top dollar views. They lived in their own worlds in the coastal city; unbothered by the working class with 9-5 jobs and single-family bungalows in the suburbs. To the everyday person, life in Los Angeles was more than nice with the beach on one side, the mountains on the other, and enough cultural entertainment to hardly ever be bored. People were happy you could argue and, in a sense that was true. Happy that they were able to settle down in that warm American Dream with the one they were destined to be with. Their soulmate.

This wasn’t a world full of lonesome heartbreak – unless one would choose to live that way – as everyone was assigned someone that they were meant to be with. By their eighteenth birthday, strange habits started to arise where you could taste whatever your soulmate was eating at any given time. It started faintly the day of your eighteenth birthday, as just a light sensation on your tongue, sort of like what it feels like to have a craving for a specific type of food. As weeks progressed it became more pronounced until after a month or so you could taste nearly exactly what they were eating as if you were eating it yourself.

It was something to get used to at first, but it was reality, and everyone went about their day to day lives with this invisible connection to the one they were destined to be with. Some people never found their soulmate – after all, the world had a population of almost three billion, so the odds weren’t always on your side – but eighteen-year-old Daniel refused to let that be his fate.

The second the clock hit midnight on April 2nd, 1958, Daniel shut his eyes really tightly in his bed and swirled his tongue around his mouth to try and taste something. You see, he was in love with the idea of love for as long as he could remember, and he had been counting down the days until he turned eighteen since he was old enough to know what numbers were. His parents had that perfect love story; high school sweethearts in 1935 where his father knew she was the one from the first week he turned eighteen, married and expecting their first child by 1936 and had three boys with a baby girl on the way before his father was drafted into the war in 1942. His father returned home in 1945 just as in love with his mother than ever before and the rest was history. Daniel wanted a story just like his parents; one where it all just fell into place.

The two-and-a-half months from the day Daniel turned eighteen to his high school graduation gave him absolutely no clue as to who his soulmate was. He tried scrounging the cafeteria at lunch time to see if any of the girls were eating that turkey sandwich he could taste or drinking that cold bottle of Coca-Cola, but he was met with no luck again and again. His soulmate seemed to eat something different everyday for each meal, but he soon came to realize that the only consistent thing was strawberry milkshakes. Usually around the time Daniel got off the school bus at home he’d lick his lips with the sweet flavour of strawberry and whipped cream that was rolling its way along his tongue.

He was just glad it wasn’t chocolate. He hated chocolate.

On the first real day of summer vacation, after graduation and their final high school dance, Daniel was staring out his bedroom window towards the street, impatiently waiting to see his older brother’s shiny red Thunderbird turning onto their street. Sure enough, he got a glimpse of the shiny red sports car in the distance and with an excited gasp, Daniel took off for the stairs.

“Christian’s home!” he shouted through the house, hopping the last three stairs and whipped open the front door just as the car pulled into the driveway.

He jumped off the porch as his parents came out of the house behind him and Daniel rushed to set his hands on the pretty red hood of the car that was still warm from the long drive from upstate.

The tired nineteen-year-old stepped out from the driver’s side and pulled off his sunglasses to offer a dimpled smile to his family, “Hey, you guys. What’s shaking?”

“Christian! How was college?” Daniel asked with a grin.

“Just swell, little brother. Why don’t you come help me bring my things upstairs? I have something for you.”

Daniel absolutely idolized his older brother, so he didn’t need to be asked twice to carry his things. As Christian headed for the porch to greet his mother with a kiss to her cheek and his father with a handshake, Daniel opened the trunk of the car to unload the bags. Out of the four Seavey children, Christian and Daniel were closest in age; Christian was only four months old when their parents fell pregnant with Daniel; leaving the two boys at only thirteen months apart. This made them very close and they shared a bedroom up until their oldest brother Tyler moved out for college a few years before. It was safe to say that when Christian was next to leave for school, Daniel had a hard time adjusting to life in the house without him.

But he was finally back, dressed in his usual slicked back dark brown hair and finished with a leather jacket. Leather was never usually Christian’s choice and Daniel let his eyes linger on the back of his brother’s jacket as he helped him carry his things upstairs to his room.

Christian stopped in the doorway to the left at the top of the stairs, poking his head into the light pink painted room, “Hey, ankle biter, I’m back. Did ya miss me?”

Their younger sister, Anna - a moody force to be reckoned with at fifteen - glanced up from her magazine she was reading on her bed, her record player playing quietly from on top of her dresser, “Didn’t even notice you were gone.”

“Did you get that Elvis guy to marry you yet?”

“Oh, shut up, Chris.” Anna blushed, throwing one of her stuffed animals at him before getting up to slam the door in his face.

Christian glanced back at Daniel with a small smile before heading into the room adjacent to toss his bag on his bed. Daniel set his suitcase by his closet and leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

“What’s with the new getup?” Daniel finally asked.

“Oh, this old thing?” Christian grinned, pulling at the hem of his leather jacket. “A buddy in the dorms threw this little bash back in the fall and there were all these swell guys there talking about this new fashion tread. Said it was what everyone’s doing now. I think it looks pretty good, don’t you?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?” Christian scoffed. “Well something’s coming to you of this whole business too.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. The guys got me a job at the car shop upstate for the year, I made a bit of dough, fixed up some wheels, and I’m even transferred to another shop down here for the summer. But with the big bucks I made since the fall I can afford a new car.”

“That’s great, Chris.” Daniel said slowly, unsure of where his brother was going with that.

“So I want you to have my T-Bird.” Christian tossed over the keys.

Daniel tried to grab them in his shock but fumbled them and they fell to the carpet. He bent down quickly to pick them up, “Are you pulling my leg?”

“Nope. Car’s all yours. That or I’ll resell it but I know you’ve had your eye on it since I first got it.”

“Yeah! Oh, boy! Thank you!” Daniel grinned.

“Only thing I ask is that you tell me how your birthday went.” Christian smirked, flopping back onto his bed. He leaned back against the headboard with his hands tucked behind his head and his shoes resting up on his bag.

Daniel bit back a small smile, sitting gently at the end of his older brother’s bed, the car keys still in hand, “It was nice. Mom made me a cake. Vanilla, of course. And I had a few friends over to watch a movie on tv and we ordered a pizza.”

“You know that’s not what I’m asking.” Christian kicked him with the toe of his shoe lightly.

Daniel’s whole family knew about how excited he was to turn eighteen, solely for the purpose of finally being able to find his soulmate. The younger brother blushed lightly through a smile.

“I haven’t found her yet. But she likes strawberry milkshakes.”

“Strawberry? Well, thank God it’s not chocolate or you’d be miserable.” Christian chuckled. “Think she goes to your school?”

“I dunno. High school’s over anyway. But I want to try and find her this summer. She’s gotta be in the city, right?”

“It’s a big city, little bro.” Christian said.

“You’ll help me, right?”

“I gotta work.” Christian shrugged. “Besides, I gave up on that junk.”

“That junk? Finding your soulmate?” Daniel frowned over at him. He thought back to the late-night talks in their shared bedroom when they were nine and ten, sitting up facing each other on their adjacent twin size beds, talking about what it would be like to grow up and find their soulmates.

Christian hummed, sliding his tongue over his lips and in his mouth, an obvious unaware habit that meant his soulmate was eating something right then. Daniel wondered what he could taste.

Christian clicked his tongue and sat up with a deep inhale as if to pull himself out of his own thoughts, “Yeah, no use stressing yourself over it. Plenty of swell birds around to find, right?”

“I guess.” Daniel mumbled.

“I gotta unpack my things. Why don’t you take the car for a spin before dinner?” Christian suggested, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

“Sure.” Daniel stood up, glancing down at the keys in his hand. “Thanks again.”

Christian only sent him a dimpled grin and Daniel left his brother’s room without another word. He walked down the stairs and to the front door, calling over his shoulder to his parents that he would be back in a little bit before heading for the driveway. Daniel hopped over the door of the convertible and settled into the red leather seats with his hands falling gently against the steering wheel. He let a small smile come to his lips as the engine roared to life and the familiar taste of strawberry milkshakes grazed his tongue.

#daniel seavey #daniel seavey fanfic #why dont we #christian seavey #why dont we music #wdw #why dont we fanfic #seavey #au #soulmate au #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we imagines #🍓

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conaionaru · 4 years ago

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Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

The stupid, the proud

Synopsis: Name day gifts and the baby comes.

Warning: Ivar, Silas, toxic family, fluff, birth, angst, blood, gore, murder, drowning

Tags:

@didiintheblog @youbloodymadgenius @shannygoatgruff @xbellaxcarolinax @lol-haha-joke @heavenly1927 @queenbeeta

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3

The celebration of Vanya's name day took place when the sun went down. Her back and feet hurt, and the babe was restless. She was exhausted and wanted to rest, but she sat down and pretended to be happy for the sake of the people.

Many people from the village came to give her gifts, flowers, jewelry, children gave her toys, and healers gave her potions to recover quicker from birthing her child. Ale and music flowed through the busy hall as she sat next to Ivar, a hand on her stomach, hoping the child would calm down soon.

Her husband kept whispering pretty words to her and kissing her knuckles, but Vanya still felt nervous. "Alright, now it's time to give you our gifts, Sister," Hvitserk exclaimed, raising his cup of mead high into the air as everybody cheered with him.

Aslaug smiled from her position on Ivar's left as thralls carried in a box to Vanya's feet. They opened the heavy wooden chest to reveal a dagger with a golden handle and engraving on the steel. "It has protection runes on it. You keep it near you during birth, and both you and the child will survive. I had it with me during every delivery, just like my ancestors before me. Every mother passes it onto her daughter. And now it's yours, Vanya."

The ginger looked at Aslaug with tears in her eyes and hugged the kind woman. The Queen acknowledged her as her daughter in front of whole Kattegat; she was a Lothbrok now not only through marriage. The next to give her a gift was Ubbe. He put a small item into her hands wrapped in fabric. When Vanya revealed the present, she couldn't help but gasp.

The oldest son of Aslaug smiled down at her cheekily and nodded towards the butterfly pin in her hands. "You said you had a necklace like that once. So I thought it would be nice to give you something to remind you of it, Lillemor (Little mother)."

"Thank you, Ubbe. I love it." She grinned at him as he squeezed her tightly and kissed her forehead. The tall Ragnarsson also mussed Ivar's hair as the crippled boy glared at him for the affection his wife gave him.

"Jewelry, Ubbe? Really? How unoriginal. You make it too easy. I got you a better gift, Vanya!" Hvitserk boasted, passing her another wrapped item. This one was heavier and square. "I had one of the Saxon thralls write it down for you. It's stories about the gods and the greatest warriors to ever live. Father is in there, and mothers' parents as well. You said you wanted to learn everything. Floki also wrote some runes in there for you to learn."

Vanya thanked the giddy Viking and trailed her fingers over the hand cover of the book Hvitserk had made for her. It looked just like the ones the monks carried around the church. She had a feeling the one who wrote the stories was a monk too, and the book might have been either bought blank or had the pages remade. Whatever it was, she felt a little bit sorry for the author of the book. The slave learned how to write to eternalize God's word, and now he writes stories of foreign gods and warriors.

"And this is my gift. Much better then Hvitserks, I am sure." Sigurd jumped in with his oud in hand. It turns out the reason why the Ragnarsson tuned his instrument next to Vanya was to get it ready for a song he wrote for her. The music was beautiful; it started on a sad note that grew fiercer with every note, ending in a happy symphony. Everyone clapped the pretty song, and it's creator.

Floki and Helga gave Vanya their gifts as well, white Bjorn and Torvi gifted her with new furs. The last one to provide her with a gift was Ivar. His present was wrapped in fabric and heavy. "I made it myself. It's Jörmungandr. I already gave you Fenrir, so it would only be fair if you had his sibling as well."

The metal necklace was perfect despite the origin of the creature it held. Ivar had Thor's hammer; it would only be fair if she had something powerful too. And a snake that binds all the seas is truly brilliant. All the storms that Thor creates make the snake rage in the waters. "Thank you, Ivar. It's perfect."

The two shared a kiss while the babe inside her raged on. Maybe it would be like Jörmungandr, circling around her belly, waiting for it's time to escape. She just hoped it wouldn't be as disastrous as what will follow the serpent's escape. The Princess was in no mood for Ragnarok.

"I want to give you a gift as well, sister," Silas announced proudly, walking towards the sitting redhead. The item he gave her was heavy and bought in by two knights. Whatever was inside the ornamented chest, was a bad omen. Vanya could feel it in her aching bones; the gift wasn't made in good faith. "A reminder as well, just like another one of your gifts."

Ivar ordered Margrethe to open the chest, inside was a golden cross. It was large and ornamented with jewels. Everyone stared at the heavy rood that their father used to have in his study. It always stood on his desk before him when he thought of war, to remind him that God is on his side and should like it. But Silas didn't give it to her to remember Osmond; he gave it as a warning.

"I chose it, and Mother agreed it to be a good gift. You can melt it down and have jewelry made out of it, or give it to the orphans as treasure. Whatever you chose, dear little sister. The choice is yours."

Vanya kept staring at the Christian symbol, not knowing what to think or say. Her eyes slowly lifted to look at Silas, as Ivar fumed next to her. The Ragnarssons looked at the cross with disgust while Aslaug watched Silas, to find out his motive. "Why Father's cross?"

"It's not like he needs it anymore. And we have enough back at home; one missing won't do any damage, I hope. And I wanted to finish what we started when we were children. When Father discussed the Viking problem with the council, you wanted peace. And isn't it funny that you were the thing that bought it? Like you were destined to do it. Do you remember what you said?" He smirked at her mocking her comment during a council when she was eight. He didn't forget and maybe only offered her to Bjorn as revenge.

"We could give them something and ask them to leave us alone," Vanya repeated the words she said nearly nine years ago.

Silas chuckled and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, ignoring the agitated heathens around him. "I offered you, and they agreed. And now you are a pagan yourself with a child on the way, funny how you everything comes full circle. Father was right, I could have given them all our money, treasures, and crosses, yet they wouldn't be satisfied. Giving them you was a different story. They like you, adore you even, some think of you as one of their gods. This shall remind you you are nothing but one of God's sheep, no matter how misguided you are in your beliefs now."

Vanya swallowed the dry tasted in her mouth as her stomach knotted with dread. Sweat gathered on her brow as pain coursed withing her body. Something was wrong, very, very wrong.

"Blessed are the meek Vanya. Remember that; you may think that you have it all now, but you are the same stupid little girl you always were. Just fatter and stupider. Happy seventeenth name day."

"Vanya, are you alright?" Helga called out, seeing the girls state. The Princess opened her mouth to answer, but all that came out was a scream as the pain grew unbearable. Aslaug and Helga run to her side to check on her as her tights became slick. "The child is coming."

Aslaug's shocked words echoed around the tense hall as everybody sprang into action. Ubbe picked the ginger up and carried her to her and Ivar's hut with Helga, Aslaug, Ivar, and healers in tow. Silas watched them go with anger in his eyes. He wanted to see her reaction to his words, not the concern everyone showed at her pained whimpers.

Ubbe laid his panting sister in law on the bed as healers hoarded the room, throwing him out before he could say anything. The only man in the chambers was the child's father that crawled next to her, holding her clammy hand as Aslaug whipped her brow with a wet towel. The healers stripped Vanya off her black dress and put her into a baggy white one instead. They helped her up and made her stand as they removed the bedding until the only remaining was the wooden frame.

Aslaug stood next to Vanya as the girl leaned against the dresser grinding her teeth together, breathing thought the pain. She regretted ever wanting children; she should have stayed with dolls and not slept with Ivar. But it was too late for wishful thinking, the babe was coming, and she wanted to hit something. Maybe Ivar, he was the one who put the child in her after all. How come he did the fun part, and she is huffing and puffing while a little human is making its way out of her?

She unclenched her palms on the top of the dresser, her fingers hitting a solid item. Vanya lifted her heavy head and gazed at the wooden figure of Fenrir, that Ivar gifted her nine months ago. The ginger wrapped her right hand around the carved wolf and tightened her grip around it, swallowing her pained screams.

Images flashed before her closed eyes as she bends lower her forehead resting against the cool wood of the cabinet. She saw frozen water before her as her lungs screamed for air. Her eyes snapped out in fright till the next contraction hit, and another vision overtook her.

This time she saw arrows flying in the sky, aiming for something in the distance. With a deep exhale, Vanya forced her eyes open again, her hallucinations not making any sense to her.

Ivar watched from the bedside, Vanya's hunched trembling body covered in a thin layer of sweat as his mother and Helga stood on each side of her. "Vanya? Do you hear me? Love, we need to move again. Vanya?" His wife was deaf to his mother's calls, staring blankly at the floor with wide eyes.

"What is wrong with her?" Ivar called out, biting his nails and running his hand through his hair, reminding himself not to pull on it, or he might rip it out in worry.

The answer came from a healer who finished the bed so she could lay down on it to rest her feet. "The pain must be making her delusional. It would be better to move her before her give out under her."

Vanya saw splatters of blood fly her way as the axe swung up again, a spray of blood flying behind it. "Don't drown, Vanya." She regained her senses with a gasp, the eerie words the cloaked stranger spoke in her dream repeating in her head.

"What's wrong, Vanya. Talk to me." Aslaug's soft hand on her cheek made her look up to see the worried look in the Queen's eyes. She needed to tell her, Aslaug would know what to do.

"I am going to die. Please, you can't let me die. I have to protect my child!" She explained in a rush, her eyes wide and filled with desperation.

Yet the Queen of Kattegat only shook her head and stroked her cheek. "You aren't dying. You will be alright. You are in good hands, Vanya, the Gods are with you. Freyja, Frigg, and Freyr are all with you. You and the child will not die." Vanya hung onto every word her mother in law whispered to her, praying to each god that she was right.

They led her back to the bed, Fenrir still in her hand. A stabbing pain ripped through her, a scream leaving her lips as three women and Ivar crowded around her, trying to help. Ivar wrapped his hand around hers only to feel the carved toy he made her. Confused, he turned her fist towards him, his eyes wide at what he saw. Some of the sharper edges must have dug into her soft skin and broke it, as blood flowed from the wounds and down her wrist. Everyone was too focused on her bleeding crotch than her hand.

"Let go, Min elskede (My beloved). You are hurting yourself." He carefully pried the object from her hand and put his palm in its place. "Grip it as tightly as you need."

Vanya screamed again, her head thrown back in agony as Aslaug wiped her forehead again, Helga and the healer held her legs and waited for the head to show. The redhead looked at the calm Queen and begged her to listen to her and save her child. "I didn't see your or its death. You will be alright."

"But I saw it. Please, you have to promise me."

"Vanya, nothing is wrong."

"Please, promise me, Mother. Don't let my child die." Aslaug saw the desperation and pain in her eyes, so she nodded and promised to keep them both safe no matter what.

The healer lifted her head from where she looked between Vanya's legs. "Push, just a few, and the head will be out."

Vanya bore down, praying for the pain to be over and the child alive. Ivar squeezed her hand back, biting on his nails, looking as in pain as her. With every sob, scream, and whimper she let out, he felt worse and worse. "Ivar." Her eyes shone with tears as more sweat coated her pale skin.

"What is it, Min elskede (My beloved). Tell me." He pleaded back as she laid there is pain, sweat, and blood. For eight hours, she suffered to bear his child, who knows how long she felt the ache while they celebrated. Ivar prayed to the gods to let her torment end, and their child to cry out as it took its first breath.

Vanya stared into his glassy eyes, weakling glaring at him. "Fuck...You." She whispered as he laughed at her words—the total opposite of what she hoped to achieve.

"Fair enough. It's my fault, after all. I hope you will forgive me." Ivar whispered back, kissing her white knuckles and keeping her weak hand near his lips.

Outside the hut, people prayed as the princesses screams echoed over Kattegat. The Ragnarsson stood together, muttering between themselves as the torches flickered around them. "Does every child take that long? Or is it as difficult as Ivar?" Sigurd asked, wincing at the next scream tore through the filled streets.

"Some take longer." Torvi answered, holding onto Bjorn's arm, their children huddled around them with their daughter in Bjorn's embrace.

Ubbe grimaced at another scream, a nervous chuckle following after it. "Gods." The others nodded in agreement.

"One more push, Vanya." Urged Helga as the Princess grew weaker. She fixed her grip on Ivar's hand and, with one last scream pushed her child out. The next cry that followed caused everyone to sigh in relief.

Helga and Aslaug wiped the babe down as the healer helped Vanya deliver the afterbirth. When they bought the child to her, it was wrapped in a blanket. "It's a boy," Aslaug announced, laying the Ivarsson on her chest.

He had a few dark hairs on his head as he frowned at the change of places. Ivar looked at his mother in fear. "Is he?"

"He is healthy, Ivar. He is perfect." She reassured him, showing him the little kicking feet as proof. The child wasn't cripple like his father, and Ivar couldn't be happier that he was spared the same fate as him.

"He is perfect." Vanya agreed lovingly gazing at the face of her newborn son. He looked angry to be there, which reminded her of Ivar in a good way. A son. They had a son now. Finally, the worst part was over.

She nursed the child for the first time in front of everyone present, as the tradition wanted. When the boy was fed, Helga withdrew from the couple, the child lying on his mother's chest, soundly asleep. Aslaug made Ivar leave the tired redhead alone, asking him to inform everyone outside of his son's birth.

Vanya and the child were now the only ones inside the chambers lying on the hard bed as cheers sounded outside the hut. She smiled tiredly, stroking his cheek while the healer wiped her down with a cloth to get rid of the blood. The Saxon needed to sleep, and a staring Ivar asking her if she is alright, wouldn't have helped her. But she wanted him to bask in their son's glory just like she is right now.

"You are glorious, just like Ivar said you would be. You, my son, come from two powerful bloodlines. You are a Lothbrok, grandson of the most powerful man on earth, and a descendant of the House of the Raising Sun. You have dragon's blood in you, red hair or not." She whispered to him affectionately as he slept, content for now. She closed her eyes too as the healer sat by her bed, ready if something went wrong with either of them.

The next time Vanya woke up, it was three hours later, just before dawn. The sounds of the celebration of her son's birth could be heard outside. But that's not what woke her up; instead, it was footsteps and a gurgling sound followed by a thud. Vanya sat up in her bed to meet the silhouettes of an armed man. The healer laid on the ground by the door with her throat slit.

Vanya sprang from the bed and snatched her in furs wrapped child and backed away from the man. Despite being dressed like a farmer, she recognized his faces instantly. The quality steel also gave him away - one of Silas's knights.

With adrenaline running through her veins, Vanya made a dash for the open door narrowly missing the knight's outstretched hand. She jumped over the woman's dead body and ran towards the Great hall.

Another knight cut off her route aiming his sword at her child. She desperately screamed for help, but the music and laughter drowned her sounds from the Great hall. She was too far away to be seen by somebody, especially in the dark.

Changing her direction, she runs towards the only open spot - the sea. Whatever power stood by her, she managed to outrun the three knights following her and reach the shore with the fisherman boats tied there. She jumped into one of the furthest boats and untied it. Vanya pushed the wooden vessel away and rowed with all her might.

Her son laid on a heap of nets under her, her body shielding him in case a sword got too close. An arrow hit the side of the boat, startling the girl from her concentration. One of the knights was shooting arrows at the ship as it was too far away for them to reach. The others soon drew their bows as well.

Vanya lifted a shield from the side of the ship and covered herself and her child under it. Arrows rained around them as her child fussed in his furs, confused about what was going on. Vanya watched her son with tears in her eyes, fearing for his life more than hers. But she needed to survive as well. With her dead, he would starve out at sea.

An arrow embedded itself into the shield, nearly stabbing her in the face. Vanya stared at the sharp metal panting in fear, her heart ready to jump off her chest at any second. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her arms grew weak from the onslaught of arrows. She couldn't hold out any longer. She lowered her shield slightly to look at the archers. The flying bolts were missing the boat, some too far away to hit. But one of the knights run into the water as far as he could and notched another arrow. The other followed his example.

There was no other way to save their child; her son needed to live. So with her last bit of courage, she lowered the shield and suspended it above her child, making sure it wouldn't get hit. The archer's arrow pierced her shoulder, sending her falling backward over the edge of the boat from the impact. Vanya reached to grab something, but her body fell over the edge, hitting the chilling waters below, rocking the boat with the whimpering babe inside.

The water swallowed her up, her wet dress dragging her down. Water clouded her vision as her lungs begged for air. She reached for the boat over her head, trying not to lose sight of it.

The arrow ceased firing; the knights satisfied when the ginger didn't come back up. They lowered their bows as the knight who shot her climbed from the water. "Get changed and return to the hall. Don't look suspicious." He ordered them and looked back at the floating boat with a lonely newborn in it. "Long live Silas the Great." Stithulf mocked, walking away from the scene satisfied while the other knights cleaned the hut from the blood and got rid of the body.

#vikings imagine #history vikings #vikings #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x oc #ivar ragnarsson #original character #original female character

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bird-in-a-cage · 4 years ago

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Inspired by that prompt

012

It was August, 1986, when Billy was released. He didn’t have much. A bag of second hand clothes that had been donated to somewhere at some point, nothing of which had ever fit right or would have been anything he’d chosen to wear voluntarily. The keys to a basement apartment underneath a general store, two small windows up high near the ceiling the only natural light source. Basic furniture. Only enough to survive, nothing homely. A tracking bracelet around his ankle. A thick black box that weighed more than it looked, hidden by baggy jeans that were kept up by a belt he had to stab extra holes into.

It might have fit him properly last year. But that was last year.

He kept the letter they gave him pinned to the small refrigerator next to the sink. This apartment is owned by the US Government. You are not to leave Hawkins until we say you can under any circumstance. You are not to take off the tracking bracelet for any reason. You are to report in to the number below once every two weeks, same time and day. Failure to do these tasks will see you readmitted.

Neil’s abuse was fun in comparison to that possibility.

It had been a long year. The longest of Billy’s short life. A year of surgeries, rehabilitation, endless tests. Having his hair shaved off. Losing his muscle mass. Losing his tan. Being kept in rooms with no windows. Alone for weeks. Being stitched back together like a jigsaw puzzle made of skin. A sock with a hole in it. Being treated like an animal, an experiment. Being poked and prodded by miles of needles. Blood and plasma. Bone marrow. Lumbar punctures. Spinal fluid. Staring into bright lights for hours until he went temporarily blind. Patch worked with pads to listen to his brain. His heart. His lungs. His stomach. Every different face wearing the same masks, the same gowns, the same gloves. Never feeling anything real apart from pain.

Sometimes he still felt like a prisoner in his own body. What was left of it. What he didn’t recognise was his anymore. That thing still in his arm. In his head. Alone at night he would still hear it whisper. But it was different now. It had no power to control him. So Billy tried to ignore it. Just keep going somehow, this would get better eventually. If he did well in this test he’d be allowed a coke. If he did well in another he could sit next to a window. He could, and did, work his way out of the Building, away from being a lab rat directly.

He’d come out with 012 tattooed on his arm, just under the crook of his elbow. They must have done it when he was passed out at one point. Everything else about him had changed, it made sense there would be something new added as well in amongst the web of white scars that spanned his entire body. Thick like elm roots on his chest, the epicenter. Thin and fine on his arms and legs and the backs of his hands, a few up the back of his neck. He kept everything hidden under thick clothes. A donated Slazenger jacket became his best friend. Grey and waterproof. Sleeves that fell to his fingers. Old jeans that someone probably died in. Dirty white sneakers. Everything the opposite of who he was before. It felt right somehow. He wasn’t that person anymore. He’d never be that person again.

A government appointed talking person had advised Billy to take everything day by day. The world was very different from what was inside the Building and its grounds. The one tree outside to look at to guess what season it was. Doing too much at once would upset things. Getting drunk wasn’t an option. Getting high wasn’t an option. Working out wasn’t an option. Getting a job wasn’t an option. Walking was fine though, practically encouraged. Enough time had passed, there was a very low chance of being recognised. Legally he was dead. He should probably think of a new name for himself. The government would help with paperwork when he was deemed ready for phase three. It would pay for him to live, exist, in phase two.

Billy never saw her face. But she had a calm voice throughout. Hidden behind the two way mirror and through the phone that had no numbers to dial. No outside line. He liked to imagine she had green eyes. The closest thing he had to a friend, even though he never said more than yes or no in return.

It took two weeks before Billy went further than the store upstairs. Three weeks before he went more than two blocks. It was odd to feel a breeze again. Odd to feel a cold that didn’t come from within. Odd to feel hot from the sun. Odd to hear multiple voices and vehicles coming from everywhere. Odd to hear children. Odd to hear joy and laughter.

Odd not to hear beeping white boxes, the crinkle of sanitised plastic casings being unwrapped and opened. Hollow footsteps on a tiled floor. Count back from ten. Nine. Eight.

Hawkins didn’t look any different. It had the same amount of stop lights, stop signs. The same amount of parking spaces outside the diner and town hall. The same amount of benches in the park. The same playground equipment. The same graffiti under the slide. The same names scratched into the hard orange plastic, autographs of teenagers hiding out and getting high with their friends after dark. Billy thumbed over his own name. The night he and Harrington buried the hatchet over a joint and a half bottle of whiskey. Both hiding from home and wanting to just feel young and stupid again. Both tired of fighting.

That Billy had no idea what tiredness was.

Billy spent every day just walking. Retracing his steps over the whole town. Streets he used to drive down with abandon, screaming along to music or just screaming for the hell of it. Now he was ignoring how his lungs burnt when every step too far. Walking through pretty little neighbourhoods with white picket fences, perfect front yards. He felt like a ghost. No one looked at him twice. He really had died. There wasn’t a grave for him at the church. He didn’t expect there to be one, that required his family caring about him. They didn’t care before. Why would they care now he was the reason the fancy new mall ‘burnt down’?

The house was the same. At least from the outside on the other side of the street. 4819 Cherry Lane. The same broken steps. The same mailbox. The same windowed front porch. The same dead grass. The same dead trees. He could still be there but he couldn’t. Schrödinger’s Hargrove. A part of him wanted to go and knock on the door. Look through the windows. See what happened to his room. If any part of him and who he was still existed in those walls. The government wouldn’t like that though. He was dead. It was hard to accept it was better to stay dead. The box around his ankle felt heavier.

The centre of town was busier than the suburbs. Billy worked his way there last. Built up a tolerance for noise and engines and people over a few months. Step by step. Day by day. Getting used to being dead. Watched the stripmall from the other side of the parking lot. The auto repair shop he visited a lot for parts for his fallen camaro. God knows what they did with her. The arcade where he dropped Max off more than once. He tried not to think about her. About what could happen now he was gone. The broken great wall. He sat at the bus stop for a break. His lungs felt like they were about to tear open again. His chest was heavy and tight. Five minutes. Then he’d keep going. Keep carrying on.

Keep fighting.

A sharp scream dragged his head up from his sneaker laces. Two kids piled out of a BMW. A brown one that looked expensive. A shock of red hair that had been long but was now just short to shoulder length in a dramatic line. Jean shorts and a yellow t-shirt. A denim jacket. Billy’s denim jacket. The sleeves had been cut off. Someone had painted a skull smoking on the back panel. Probably the wearer herself. It wasn’t unlike Billy’s first tattoo. The one he used to have on his arm. The one they cut through and scars took over from both sides took over and removed.

Max. She’d screamed. But she didn’t look scared or worried or even sad. She was smiling from ear to ear. Sunglasses pushed into her hair. She looked taller. She’d screamed at a boy in a baseball hat. Billy vaguely recognised him from long ago, somewhere in the back of what was left of his old mind. He winced and made a show of fixing his ear with a finger. Probably complaining that Max was too loud. Billy had told her that before. When things were different. When he was different. When he was younger but old.

They both went to walk through the doors when the driver got out of the car. Harrington. Of course it was him. He looked exactly the same. Big mane of brunette hair effortlessly styled. Stupid mom jeans. He tossed forgotten backpacks at both of them. Sounded kind as he said he’d pick them both up in two hours so don’t be fucking around in there. He’d already been hat kid’s surrogate brother by all accounts, it looked like he just picked Max up too. Another lost duckling to add to his gaggle.

Watching them live out their lives made Billy feel even more in the ground. A part of him wanted to walk over, say hi, I’m not actually dead. But he knew that was a bad idea. The whole town had moved on by way of nothing changing. The mall had been brushed over. It was a building site now. All the people that Billy took, they had been forgotten too. Someone had planted a heather bush in the town square. She hadn’t been forgotten. But that was it. People just carried on. As if nothing ever happened. As if those people had never existed. As if Billy had never existed. Max clearly remembered him if her attire was anything to go by, but did anyone else? He didn’t expect to be remembered at all. But then he also wasn’t dead yet. But he was a memory now. Nothing more. Even though he was sat right there. The cold plastic of the bus stop bench sinking through his denim covered thighs.

Max smiled at Harrington. Really smiled. Said thanks and squeezed his arm before the two kids went inside, into all the noise and lights that even the thought of following made Billy panic. Not as much as fireworks did. Harrington yelled after them to not lose all their money and sunk back into his car. Watching it all was like watching tv. Billy couldn’t interact with any of it. His body wouldn’t let him. His mind wouldn’t let him. Stuck frozen on the bench. Stuck frozen in the past while the world moved on. Left him alone with his scars and memories and regrets and apologies to people who would never hear them.

He’d apologised to Max so many times in his head it wasn’t funny anymore. He had so many regrets they consumed him. Being alone for so long at the hands of the government, he longed to be out. To be given a second chance. He regretted not being nicer to Harrington. He was a good guy. Too good for this town. He regretted just not being an asshole to his sister. Wanted a chance to not treat her like some second class citizen. Their situation wasn’t her fault. He’d just been so blinded by rage and hate about things he couldn’t change he took it out on her. She didn’t deserve that.

It had just taken dying to truly realise it.

She needed someone to make sure she was okay, now stuck alone at Cherry Lane with no one to stop angry fists and hateful words. She had Harrington.

Harrington was better than Billy.

He watched the BMW drive away, the kids long inside. The scene resetting itself. Billy sighed shakily and got to his feet, rubbing over his chest where his heart ached behind inches of scar tissue inside and out. Starting to walk back to his basement.

It was better he was dead. Unmourned and forgotten. It's what he deserved.

#harringrove #if you squint #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #big sad #sorry not sorry #my writings

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babybluebex · 4 years ago

Text

marigold [david budd]

pairing: david budd (the bodyguard) x reader (Y/N)

summary: you are the PM’s daughter, and you get assigned to ps david budd, a man with more complications than you anticipated.

word count: 2500+

warnings: swearing, smut, all the good stuff

a/n: ok look, i had to tweak a thing or two in the bodyguard canon for this to work. so, for now, imagine that david never worked for julia.

“Aw, fuck off!”

“Y/N, please,” my father sighed. “It’s a protection measure. You know that I wouldn’t do this unless it was necessary.”

I pressed my hand against my forehead. My father really wanted to give me a bodyguard. “He’d come with me to uni and shit?” I asked. “Everywhere? Dad!”

“Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” Dad said. “It’s already in place. When you leave Downing Street, PS Budd will be with you. And everywhere else, for that matter. After the October 1 attacks, we can’t afford anybody to be a target.” “Me especially, eh?” I asked. “The Prime Minister’s only daughter! You’re taking the piss, seriously, and I don’t like it.”

At that moment, there was a firm knock at the door to my father’s office, and it opened to reveal a built man in a suit. He had dark hair with grey hair sprinkled around, a beard on his tan face, and alert blue eyes. He wore a clear wire in his ear that many security officers wore, and I sighed. “Is this him, then?” I asked my father, motioning to the security officer with my thumb.

“Yes, it is,” Dad said, standing up. “Police Sergeant Budd, this is my daughter, Y/N. I expect the two of you will grow close.”

“In your dreams,” I huffed. “Nothing against you, Budd, but I do not need protecting.”

“I beg to differ, ma’am,” Budd said in a strong Scottish voice. His hands were clasped in front of him, and the look of concentration on his face made me all the more angrier. “Terrorist unions might see you as a target to hurt your father. I’m only here to keep you alive.”

I set my jaw, a muscle in my temple jumping. “How long is this for?” I asked.

“Until the threat level to the country is lowered,” Dad told me. “Be nice to PS Budd, please, dear.” He put his hands on my face and kissed my forehead, and I sighed. “I cannot lose you like I did your mother.” Dad whispered to me, and I lowered my eyes.

“Alright,” I mumbled. “I’ll try it. But it’s over the exact moment I say. Yes?”

“As long as PS Budd agrees that you are no longer in need of protection,” Dad said. “Sergeant, take good care of her, yes? She’s the only one I’ve got.”

“Yes, sir,” Budd said with a solitary nod. He turned to me, his face still showing little emotion, and he gestured to the door. “Ma’am.”

I figured that he was only using the title in front of my father, so I let it go. As I walked past him, I heard him mumble, “Seven-nine, Marigold is a go.” I assumed that Marigold was a code name of sorts. I looked at my phone as I walked to the elevators, wondering if I had time to get a coffee before my next lecture, and I became very aware of a body close to me as I waited by the elevator. I looked to see Budd behind me, and I said, “You certainly don’t waste time.”

“No, ma’am,’ Budd replied, his eyes focused in front of him. “You don’t have to call me that,” I sighed. “I’m 19. And you’re, what, 40?”

“33, ma’am,” Budd replied. “And I am required to call you that.”

“Right,” I said. “Look, this is rather humiliating to me, so if you could find a way to tone it down around my uni mates, that would be spectacular.”

“This is the lowest level of security, ma’am,” Budd told me as the elevator doors slid open. “I am to be posted by the door of every room you enter, or within the vicinity of your person if I cannot see you from the door.”

“And the highest level would be...?” I asked.

“You would be confined to a safe house in a separate city,” Budd told me. “No internet or phone usage. I would be closest to you with my weapon in my hand, and at least three other officers in the room. Trust me, it could be far worse.” After a moment, he cleared his throat and added, “Ma’am.”

“That’s intense,” I mumbled. “Have you ever done that before?”

“No, ma’am,” Budd replied simply.

I pressed my lips together. “What do I call you?” I asked. “PS Budd doesn’t quite roll off the tongue, does it?”

For the first time, Budd averted his gaze from in front of him to look at me. “David would do just fine,” he told me.

“David,” I repeated. “That’s a nice name.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” David Budd said.

I studied David as we rode to my uni. He sat in the front, mumbling into his ear piece every so often, and I saw him look at me in the rear view mirror often. I pressed my palm onto my forehead, trying to figure out what to tell my professors that wouldn’t give any information to the public that would be harmful, and I faintly heard David say, “Are you alright, ma’am?”

“Yes, just…” I mumbled. I felt lightheaded by the anxiety, and I heard a few garbled voices before the car stopped and I felt the cold air on the side of my face. The car door was open beside me, David standing next to me, bent over to be closer.

“Ma’am?” David said. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes,” I mumbled. “Umm…” I began to grope at my side for my bag, where I knew my anxiety medication was, and David was quick to lean over me and get the bag. I could smell him in his closeness, and it nearly made me cry. Cologne; a nice one, but unfamiliar. I needed something familiar.

My hand was enveloped by warmth and I felt the clatter of pills in my hand, and my instincts kicked in and allowed me to swallow them. I knew it would take about half an hour for them to start working, so I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to even my breathing out. Anxiety attacks were common, hence the medication on me at all times, and I assume that the stress of the whole bodyguard situation triggered it. The world felt sluggish as I turned to see David, his eyebrows drawn in concern. His blue eyes watched my every move, and his full lips moved for a moment before I processed his words. “Are you feeling better, ma’am?” he asked. “Motion sickness?”

“Anxiety,” I breathed. I sniffled and raised my hand to my face to find tears streaming down my cheeks and onto my neck. I was crying, quite a lot. My hand shook as I pressed it to my running nose, and my hand was quickly filled by a handkerchief. I saw a tiny D.B embroidered in the corner, but I had no other thought of it.

“Do we need to go to your flat, ma’am?” David asked.

“No,” I sniffled. “No, just… Just to uni, is fine.”

David clenched his jaw. “I disagree, ma’am,” he said. “I think it would be best for you to go home.”

“Don’t call me that,” I said quickly. “Please, I don’t want that right now.”

“Alright,” David said, his shoulders lowering as his voice went softer. “What do you want right now, Y/N?”

My breath caught in my throat, and I gulped down air. My hand scrambled for his and finally found it on the seat next to me, and I squeezed his hand hard. “I don’t know,” I murmured.

A moment passed where I watched David’s eyes lower to the street, then lift up to me. I could barely focus on him through my tears, but I heard him say, “You need to breathe, Y/N.” Before I knew it, I felt strong arms wrap around me, and I found myself in PS David Budd’s embrace. His chest was flushed against mine and I could feel something hard and solid on him; a bulletproof vest, like many security officers wore. “Breathe when I do,” David instructed me, and his warm hand pressed against my back.

He took a breath in, and I did the same. My hands were shaking fiercely, but it only made me hold him harder. The handkerchief was now balled in my fist, almost forgotten, had it not been his initials that I had noticed. Did his mother make it for him? A wife, or a daughter?

“I think you should go home,” David said softly. “I don’t encourage skipping classes, but I think that this is an exception.”

The handkerchief stayed in my hand the entire ride to my flat, and David took the liberty of unlocking my door for me. He followed me in, a protective hand hovering over my back, and I sniffled away the remnants of tears as I stood in the den. “Thank you,” I mumbled. “I, umm…”

“I will be outside your door,” David said. “Call for me if you need me.”

“You’re my bodyguard, not my nanny,” I said. “Why are you…? Why do you care?”

David fixed his eyes on me. “A young lady like you should never have to know sorrow,” he said. “If I can be of any help with that, I want to be.”

“It’s not a duty to talk me down from an anxiety attack?” I asked with a half-hearted chuckle.

“No, it’s not,” David said. “But it is a privilege. Have a rest and we’ll reassess afterwards.”

I nodded, and I looked down at the handkerchief. “Thanks for this,” I mumbled. “Umm, I’ll get it back to you soon.”

David looked down at my hand, and he said, “You’re welcome to it, if you’d like. Don’t quite have a use for it.”

“You’re not wiping up some other girl’s tears?” I chuckled lightly. I heaved a sigh and sat down, and I looked at David.

“No,” he said. “Not anymore.”

“Anymore?” I said. “What does that mean?”

David’s jaw flexed. “The Heath Bank school attack several months ago…” he began. “Both of my children… My daughter said that dads had to carry one, or else nobody would know who was a dad and who wasn’t. Doesn’t really make a lot of sense, but she’s… She was ten, so she didn’t have to make a lot of sense.”

“Oh my God,” I said softly. “I didn’t know.”

“Not many people do,” David said. “I try not to make it a topic of conversation.”

“I am so sorry,” I mumbled. “Is that why you turned to PPO? To protect people?”

“I was assigned PPO,” David told me. “If I had it my way, I…” He looked down at his clasped hands, and he said, “Nevermind that. Lay down for a few minutes, please.”

I nodded slowly, and I watched as David turned to leave the room. My fist clenched around the handkerchief and, before it was too late, I called out. “David!” I said, and he turned back to look at me. I struggled for words, but I stood myself up and walked to him. We were both silent for a moment, my heart fluttering inside of my chest, and David took a step towards me. His hand reached out and carefully took mine, turning it over to look at my fingers, the skin wrecked from years of nervous picking and chewing. We were apart by only inches, and I could feel the electric energy between us. “You give good hugs,” I said. “Are you a good kisser as well?”

“I can’t do that,” David said softly. “It would be a violation of my duties.”

“Your duty is to protect me,” I said. “Yes?”

“In any way I can,” David replied. “Even if it means giving my life for yours.”

“So give me your life,” I said. “For even a moment, David. I believe the French call it ‘la petite mort’.” Our eyes locked, trying to see who would back down first, and I whispered, “Kiss me, David--”

Before I could even finish my request, his hands were on my face, and his lips were on mine. Our bodies crashed together like waves upon a shore, giving and taking and learning nature’s rhythm. He kissed me like a man depraved, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care when we fell onto my bed and he shed his jacket, but not his wire. I tugged it out of his ear, and I huffed out a laugh as we struggled to rid him entirely of it. I didn’t care when his jacket came off and I was confronted with the guns that lay on his hip. We were hurried, almost frantic, not bothering to fully undress. My trousers came off with my panties, and David pulled down his trousers just enough to extract his member. There was a rushed and whispered conversation about the technicalities of birth control versus pulling out, but, eventually, his hands went to my thighs and opened my legs, and he pushed himself inside of me.

His hair came undone as we fucked; mostly from my fingers pulling, urging him onward. The tie came off quickly, his shirt becoming undone, and I was disappointed to be faced with the stark white of the bulletproof vest. I had so hoped to see his chest and the hair that I knew was there. He kissed my neck and my mouth, and his hand snaked up my shirt to grasp at my bra. He gnashed his teeth together, and he mumbled, “Fuckin’ thing…” before pushing his fingers underneath and forcing his way in. His hand was rough against my breast, but the feel of it seemed to give him a burst of energy. His breathing was heavy in my ear, interrupted by quiet moans every so often, and he finally whispered, “Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna come.” I couldn’t tell him that I had already come; I didn’t have time. Soon enough, I felt him spilling inside of me, and I could almost see the little death on his breath before I took it in and made it a part of myself. He gave his life for me, no matter how small it was.

We breathed hard as we untangled ourselves, and I shed the rest of my clothes before I slipped under the blankets. I watched David get up from the bed and cross to where his jacket had been thrown-- by him or me, I couldn’t remember-- and he picked it up and studied it for a moment. He was frozen, staring at his jacket, and he only seemed to break when I hoarsely whispered, “Davie?”

“Nobody calls me that,” David said softly.

“Nobody calls me ma’am,” I replied. “But you seem to do that.”

“I do,” he whispered, almost to himself.

I could see how conflicted he was. “Davie,” I said gently. “Come to bed, please, love. Just for a few moments.”

David finally looked up at me, and he nodded carefully. He finished undressing, much like I had, and he came and laid down next to me. We easily moved close again, my leg pressing against his and my head on his chest. We seemed to fit like puzzle pieces; I loved it.

“Look,” I began. “I know what we did was wrong. It was… Bad. Not bad, but… Yeah. I know that you’re worried, but I’ll handle this. I’ll say that I convinced you to--”

“No,” David said. “You didn’t. I wanted it as much as you did. I wanted that the moment I saw your face.”

“When?” I asked.

“Four months ago,” David said. “I had just come home from Afghanistan and was trying to readjust to schedules. I was awake late at night and some gossip program was talking about you. You are gorgeous; I hope you know that. They called you the darling of Parliament.”

“And what do you call me, Davie?” I asked.

“A darling, yes,” David conceded. “And of Parliament. But also my heart. I loved you when I first laid eyes on you.”

“Love at first sight is fairytale stuff,” I mumbled, tracing my finger around his warm chest.

“Oh, Cinderella,” David whispered, and his fingers pressed against my chin, and he gently shifted my head up to look at him. “You simply don’t know how magical life can be.”

#richard madden #the bodyguard #david budd #television #fanfiction #mine #1917 #joseph blake #game of thrones #robb stark #rocketman #john reid #cinderella #prince kit #medici: the magnificent #cosimo de medici #scottish #actor

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