#annette? god i just want to hold her in my arms

[thegayknee]

Just watched castlevania nocturne ahhhhhh!!!!

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Lavender and Starflower (Mobster AU) – Chapter 17

The Dekarios Clan reigns over Waterdeep as the city’s protector for centuries. Suddenly, the Clan gets challenged by Cazador, the head of the Szarr Clan that rules over Baldur’s Gate. Of course, such an attack won’t be tolerated and the intruder must be forced back and out of the City of Splendors. While fixing destroyed protection sigils, Gale, wizard prodigy and heir of the Dekarios Clan, meets a charming stranger called Astarion. And Gale makes the biggest mistake of his life; he invites the pale elf into his home.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, smut

This chapter's pure smut. These men deserve a good and thorough fuck after all the angst, panic attacks, stress, and other shit they went through in the past couple of chapters. And as we all know; there's nothing that can't be solved with good sex (or so the fanfic writers say ;)).

I was inspired to start writing this fic when I saw this artwork by @arczism

The first poem's inspired by Annette Wynne's "I think I'd like you better, star". The fictional poet's name's a tribute to hers.

The second poem's inspired by Hannah Flagg Gould's "The Stars and the Falling Dew".

This is obviously an AU that isn't related to my other work.

"Fuck me," he whispered against his lover's lips. "Break me, put me back together, and make me yours. Gods, please, my love. I want you so badly."

For the first time, words failed Gale, his verbosity gone out the window, thus, he wordlessly kissed Astarion again before leading him towards the bed. They crawled onto it, kissing and touching each other feverishly. Contrary to his words, the vampire spawn took the lead and manhandled the wizard into the desired position. The latter sat in the middle of the bed, with his legs spread and his arms slightly behind him to hold himself up. Astarion sat down too, threw his legs over Gale's, and scooted closer until their erections were touching. Now, Astarion leaned back on one arm and wrapped the other hand around the both of them. Gale inhaled sharply, his leg twitched.

Astarion smirked and teased: "Good?"

"Yes, very," replied the addressed sincerely, completely ignoring his lover's teasing tone.

Astarion found it endearing and tried to figure out the right pace. It was uncomfortable without lube, but then, as if able to read his lover's mind, Gale murmured a spell under his breath and the vampire spawn's hand was covered in grease. Oh. Now, it was lovely. Astarion lolled his head back with a moan, shamelessly thrusting upwards into his own hand and against Gale's hard-on. The latter groaned in pleasure, bucking up into the offered grip.

"'s good," the wizard slurred out between pants. "Gods, don't stop."

"Won't," replied Astarion, revelling in the feeling of cold skin on hot skin. "A poem?"

Gale chuckled despite their intimate moment.

"You're – nnh! – a menace."

"Old news, darling," smirked the elf before his eyes rolled back due to an especially well-placed thrust.

"I like you better, my little star,

when you're close to me

and finally free from Szarr.

You captured me so easily

with your beauty and light, as you should.

Even close, you're just as pretty and good,

not like some others that only are

pretty and good when observed from afar."

Astarion teared up. Gale had changed the lyrics for him. He'd added 'my little' in front of 'star' and had swapped 'and not away from me so far' with 'and finally free from Szarr'.

"You changed it for me," Astarion panted.

"Anything for you, little star," replied Gale and leaned forwards to pull him into a messy kiss.

The vampire spawn moaned, his undead heart hurt, and he sunk his unoccupied hand into the wizard's hair. It felt like he was drowning in Gale's love. His hand lost coordination and its grip on their joined erections, but the wizard took over for him, stroking in the same pace but gentler. Astarion came only seconds later, thrusting into his lover's hand while moaning into the kiss. Gale followed him over the edge quickly and the vampire spawn shuddered in delight when some of the hot splash of seeds hit his cold thigh.

They caught their breaths with their foreheads gently touching.

"Annelise Wynn," murmured Astarion. "She actually was an astrologist and physicist, not a poet."

"Correct, but she wrote this poem as a foreword for her book about astrology and star constellations," retorted Gale.

"You're such a nerd," snickered the elf and kissed the human again who seemed all too happy and smug about the situation. But said smugness quickly left his face when Astarion's hand worked its way down to Gale's abdomen to gather some of the sticky remnants of their orgasms. With a heated look in his eyes, the vampire spawn offered his fingers to Gale, slightly pushing them against his closed mouth in a silent question. Tentatively, the wizard parted his lips to lick up their combined spent. Then, he sucked Astarion's slender fingers into his mouth until they almost hit the back of his throat. The vampire spawn moaned, his flaccid member twitched in interest.

"Fuck, I want that mouth on me," Astarion blurted out and Gale blushed despite literally licking cum from his lover's fingers.

"Turn around, get down on your elbows and knees," the wizard ordered, surprisingly demandingly.

The vampire spawn obeyed immediately.

Gale wasn't Cazador nor a stranger coaxed from a tavern as a conquest. Astarion knew this, but still, for just a moment, dread overwhelmed him when the wizard leaned over him and placed a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck. Then, the warm lips travelled down his back, over the scars, joined by random licks of a hot tongue. Astarion sighed and moaned lowly at the gentleness of it all and wasn't even appalled about showing Gale his entire naked back. He trusted him. He knew Gale would never hurt him in any way.

The vampire spawn keened when the wizard's tongue lapped across his hole and slowly asked for permission to enter him.

"Yes, yes, gods, Gale!"

Astarion whined and pushed his ass towards the wizard's face who chuckled delighted.

"Patience, little star," Gale teased, before – finally – wiggling his tongue into him.

The vampire spawn moaned gutturally, automatically widening his legs more, and started drooling onto the pillow. Soon, greased fingers joined the tongue and Gale ate him out so enthusiastically that Astarion feared he might pass out, or come, or both.

"That's enough," he panted. "I'm ready. Please, Gale, please!"

The world spun when he was suddenly flipped onto his back and kissed sloppily. Slowly, the wizard entered him and the vampire spawn threw his head back with a loud moan.

"You're beautiful," said Gale with a look of adoration and awe on his face.

It took all of Astarion's willpower to not sob and break open in front of his lover. Instead, he wordlessly looped his arms underneath the wizard's armpits to hold onto his shoulders.

"Show me how much you love me," he whispered. "Love me, Gale."

A look of desperation crossed the addressed's face and he bent down to kiss Astarion tenderly.

"I thought I already showed you how much I love you, but it seems like you need another reminder before you're able to believe my words."

Astarion suddenly felt the urge to apologise for doubting, and therefore hurting, his lover, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Gale slotted their lips together and started to move. Thus, the vampire spawn moaned blissfully instead, reciprocating the kiss. He, again and again, was surprised how good Gale was in bed. The roll of his hips perfect, the thrusts at just the right angle, the handjob at the right side of maddening, kissing like he was starving. Astarion wasn't sure if he wanted to thank or murder the person who'd taught his lover all these things.

He wordlessly removed Gale's hand from his rock-hard cock, fearing he'd already come otherwise. The wizard's heart hammered in his chest, making the rush of his blood louder than usual, his calming, woody scent had turned heavy and musky with lust. It awakened the vampire spawn's urge to bite and feed, and his teeth itched. Astarion panted open-mouthed, drooling while he moaned, his fangs glinting in the candlelight.

"My little star," smiled Gale. "My little love."

He tucked his pointer and middle finger under the collar around his lover's neck and pulled him upwards. Astarion moaned, his head lolled back and exposed the long line of his throat. The wizard tightened his grip on the collar and lifted the vampire spawn off the pillow. The latter whined as his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

"I love you," Gale panted and kissed him deeply.

Mewling, Astarion climaxed and shook apart beneath his lover. He felt the wizard groan into his mouth and spill into his body. The vampire spawn dug his nails deeper into his lover's shoulders, drawing blood. Its scent filled the air and Astarion drooled for a different reason. Moaning, he kept kissing Gale. His teeth itched, his stomach growled, and the urge to bite and drink grew stronger. The wizard ended the kiss and leaned their foreheads together with a satisfied sigh.

"Gale..." groaned the vampire spawn, his teeth instinctively fully bared due to his hunger. "I need... Gods... may I –"

"Yes. You can drink from me, Astarion."

The addressed moaned in relief, digging his nails into Gale's shoulders to pull him closer, while the scent of the wizard's blood clouded his mind. He was grateful that his lover basically pushed his shoulder into his open mouth, and all Astarion had to do was bite down. He moaned again as his taste buds were flooded with the fresh, delicious blood. He gulped it down greedily, careful to not spill a single drop.

Suddenly, Gale took a shuddering breath and tensed.

"That's enough. Please stop."

After swallowing one last mouthful, Astarion let go reluctantly and licked his lips clean. Gale sighed in relief, his heart was galloping like a scared horse. The vampire spawn shushed him, sweetly, and licked up the last droplets of blood that still clung to the wizard's sweaty skin.

"You taste delectable, my love," he purred. "Like the finest brandy or a slowly-aged wine."

"That's... flattering," smiled Gale and finally relaxed again.

Astarion just had to kiss him. So he did. The wizard's lips tasted salty from the sweat, and residue of his blood still lingered on the vampire spawn's tongue. Despite it all, they kissed deeply and passionately, their tongues caressing each other.

"Did I show my love for you well enough to satisfy you?" asked Gale, looking a bit bashful. Astarion smiled softly.

"Absolutely, my love. You satisfied me through and through."

They kissed again before the wizard got off the vampire spawn and lay down next to him. Immediately, he lazily started running his fingers through the silver-white curls. Astarion sighed contently, took Gale's other hand and kissed his knuckles.

"I love you too," he muttered after a moment of comfortable silence. Gale simply smiled and kept caressing his lover's hair.

Astarion had slipped from reverie into actual sleep. He couldn't remember the last time, this had happened to him. Since his undeath, he'd never felt comfortable and safe enough to sleep, only doing so when completely exhausted and heavily wounded, and hence, not having another choice.

Now, Astarion awoke from a deep, restful sleep, blearily opening his eyes. He was greeted with the beautiful sight of Gale kneeling at the foot of the bed, three-fingers-deep in his own ass. The wizard had his eyes closed, panting quietly, while he worked himself open. The vampire spawn started to grin.

"My, my, what a lovely view to wake up to," he purred. "You could have woken me up with a blowjob."

"I thought about it," panted the addressed, "but I decided against it. When asleep, you can't give your consent, and I didn't want to do anything to you without your explicit permission. I won't violate your trust."

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread in Astarion's chest and he smiled at Gale, stating softly: "I love you."

The human smiled happily and finally opened his eyes to look at the pale elf.

"I love you too." After a small pause, Gale added: "I wish for you to take me. Only if you want to, of course."

Astarion raised a brow.

"Take you?"

"Yes."

The wizard blushed furiously, bashfully lowering his gaze. A devilish grin appeared on the vampire spawn's face.

"If you want me to fuck you, just say so, darling."

Gale turned even more crimson, it was spreading down his neck and towards his chest.

How cute, thought Astarion.

"I – I want you to – to fuck me. Please," the wizard whispered, trying to hide his face in embarrassment, and the elf had mercy on him. Smiling, Astarion sat up and reached for his lover to share a kiss with him.

"There's nothing that would bring me more pleasure," he murmured against Gale's lips.

"It's – uhm... it's been a while," confessed the latter, ducking his head.

"How long's 'a while'?"

"Seven years."

"I see... Then get on your hands and knees for me. No need to be nervous, darling, I know what I'm doing. I'm a professional, after all."

It wasn't a complete lie nor the entire truth. Usually, Astarion's male conquests preferred to fuck him, fooled by the vampire spawn's slender appearance. Usually, his marks didn't care about his preference anyway. What he wanted had never mattered to them. This is why it had been one hundred years since the last time Astarion had topped – and he was a bit nervous about it himself. What if he'd forgotten all the techniques and finesse? The vampire spawn pushed his worries aside in favour of focusing on Gale who was a nervous rack and almost vibrating out of his skin. Astarion shushed him softly and kissed the wizard's tailbone in the hopes of calming him down.

"Can I... I want to see you, Astarion. Please," Gale begged.

"It's easier to adjust in this position," the addressed reminded him. "As soon as we're sure you won't get hurt, you can turn around, alright?"

The wizard nodded frantically and took a shuddering inhale.

"Lube?"

Gale muttered the grease spell and Astarion's erection was covered in it. The latter straightened up, spread his lover's cheeks, and slowly guided his cock into him. Astarion's eyes rolled back in his head, he'd forgotten how amazing anal sex felt for the giver. Groaning, he couldn't help but bottom out. Under him, Gale whined.

"Too much?" the vampire spawn asked concerned.

"No, it's... it's fine. Just... Please, let me turn around."

"In a moment," Astarion promised and slowly pulled out before pushing all the way in again. He watched in awe and fascination how Gale's hole opened up around him and swallowed his entire cock. The stark contrast of pale skin against olive skin was beautiful. Gale moaned gutturally. Astarion pulled out again. A fine sheen of sweat covered the wizard’s long back and Astarion watched a single glistening drop running along the spine. The vampire spawn leaned down to lick it off and his lover gasped at the touch of his cool tongue. Fascinated, Astarion ran his fingers through the hair growing up Gale's crack and across his lower back. The elf was always surprised how hairy humans are.

"Uhm, what are you doing?" mumbled the wizard.

"Marvelling at all your hair, darling," answered the vampire spawn while brushing his fingers through the dark, curly hair that decorated his lover's hot, sweaty skin. Gale's blush crept all the way down his shoulders and the nape of his neck which had Astarion smiling.

"Don't make fun of me and stop staring. It's embarrassing."

"I'm not making fun of you, my love. I'm simply admiring your human beauty," replied the vampire spawn and bent down to lick across the hairy skin. Gale moaned lowly and involuntarily arched his spine more. It looked like he was begging to be taken.

"Astarion... please..." he pleaded, panting elaborately.

The addressed hummed in understanding, but couldn't stop his hips from rolling into his lover once more. Astarion threw his head back in bliss. He'd forgotten how hot, tight, and good it felt. The last thrust almost was his undoing. With a sharp inhale, Astarion paused, squeezing the base of his cock.

"Shit," he hissed. "I almost came."

"Would you like me to... assist you with that?" mumbled Gale.

"Yes," answered Astarion immediately and without thinking. His lover cast a spell and something appeared around his cock and tightened slightly.

"A cock ring?" the vampire spawn asked incredulously.

"Yes. It'll keep your orgasm at bay," explained the wizard matter-of-factly.

"Hm, handy." Carefully, Astarion pulled out. "Turn around for me, darling."

Gale did so with such enthusiasm that he almost hit Astarion in the face with his foot.

"Apologies."

He snickered nervously, but the vampire spawn didn't really care. Instead, the latter leaned over him, trapping his lover underneath him with his arms, and kissed him hungrily. When they parted, Astarion wordlessly gripped Gale's knees and basically bent him in half, before sinking into him again with one smooth motion. Gale's mouth dropped open in a long, loud moan, his head thrown back onto the pillow.

"Gods, you feel so good," groaned Astarion. "You're perfect, my love."

They kissed again. Astarion lacked the patience for any finesse, thrusting into his lover sloppily and a bit too forcefully as he chased his release. He couldn't muster up the brain capacity to wrap a hand around the wizard. He gave a little grunt every time he bottomed out, making Gale whimper in delight. The latter's face was flushed, his long, black eyelashes fluttered, his sweaty mane was splayed around his head like a halo. The wizard looked beautiful. The vampire spawn leaned forwards, letting their foreheads touch.

"It's been a century since –"

His confession was silenced by another hungry kiss, more spit and tongue than anything else.

"'s good," moaned Gale. "So good."

He got a hand around his neglected cock and stroke himself fast and hard.

"I'm going to come," he whined.

"Yes," growled Astarion. "Come for me, Gale."

The wizard obeyed, climaxing with a shout and spilling his seeds between their bellies. The elf smashed their lips together in a heated sloppy kiss and thought he'd lose his mind.

"The ring. Get it off," he pleaded. "Now. Please."

Even though still dazed from his intense orgasm, Gale immediately mumbled some words. As soon as the cock ring disappeared, Astarion was hurled over the edge, coming deep inside his lover. Gale mewled, shaking violently while his hole pulsed and tightened around Astarion's cock, feeling like it was trying to pull the latter even deeper inside. The vampire spawn moaned gutturally, circling his hips, and felt another spurt of spent leave his body.

"Oh, Gods, fuck..."

Astarion collapsed onto Gale's sweaty body, panting elaborately despite it being unnecessary. The wizard sighed contently and started stroking his lover's hair like the night before.

"That was wonderful," he voiced his thoughts.

"I wholeheartedly agree," smiled Astarion and turned his head to kiss Gale's sternum. The latter hummed happily and citied:

"Every night, the sun dies,

crimson and violet, in the skies

and thousands of stars are born.

They twinkle aloft,

bright but soft,

forming a tutelar dome until morn.

While the newborn sun washes away the night,

hope is born again from its ashes in dawn's light."

New hope... Astarion smiled into Gale's hairy chest. There truly was new hope, now, that they'd collected enough information to destroy Cazador. Absentmindedly, Astarion played with the sussur-induced collar around his neck, making the metal pieces jingle quietly. Soon, he'd be truly free from his master. Forever.

[lokifantasies]

Know You Better

Summary: Loki wants to get to know everything about you - good and bad.

Character(s): Loki, Eloise, Reader

Read the Glorious Life series here!

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Loki searches for apartments while you and Eloise sleep soundly – lounging on his sofa with his legs stretched out and feet on the coffee table as his laptop sits in his lap. He has a notebook beside him to write down the addresses of the apartment buildings that appeal to him.

A few hours after lying down, you find your eyes opening – a smile on your face when you remember you're in Loki's bed – his child growing inside you. It isn't a dream that your having – this is real life. You reach down to touch your lower stomach – feeling the slight baby bump that's begun to show itself – smiling at the tight feeling.

Once you manage to convince yourself to get out of the bed, you quietly open the door and walk out into the living room, where Loki is focused on his laptop. The God of Mischief doesn't see you approaching until you grab the computer and set it on the coffee table. You straddle his lap and capture his lips as his arms wrap around your waist.

"Hello," Loki smiles. "How'd you sleep?"

"Amazingly," you whisper – still trying to wake up completely. "Let me see your hand."

You grab the god's hand and guide it to where you had felt the small bump and the tight area. Once he feels it, his eyes light up, and the happiness on his face is the most you've ever seen.

"Is that?" he asks with a surprised gasp. "That's..."

"Our baby," you confirm – planting a kiss on his forehead while his other hand joins the one feeling the little area.

"This is...amazing," he grins – finding it difficult to move his hands from your womb. "I hate that I missed watching Eloise grow."

You grab his chin and look into his eyes. "You're the most fantastic father to her, and I know you will be to this one. Honestly, there's no one I'd rather do this with, but I just can't wrap my head around why this was even possible."

Loki purses his lips and shrugs. "I don't care how it's possible," he says. "The only thing I care about is Eloise, you, and our littlest one."

The two of you manage to have a passionate make-out session – holding either side of his face while his hand holds the back of your head – kissing each other as deep as possible – exploring each other's mouths. However, when Eloise begins to stir, you get up from his lap and go to pick up the little girl from her crib.

"Hi there," you coo at the three-month-old girl while you pick her up and place her on the changing table. "Someone's smelly," you joke with her. Loki watches on from the living room – smiling at how much you love and care for his daughter – his heart racing at the sound of both of you laughing while you clean the baby up. "There we go," you announce. Eloise has a fresh diaper on and a new onesie with little bunnies as the feet. You excitedly carry her into the living room, and Loki gets up to get her a bottle – knowing that she's always hungry upon waking up. The little girl begins to rub her face on your shoulder – her tears starting as Loki tries to hurry and make the bottle. You pull Eloise back and hold her up so she's standing on your thighs – chewing on her small hand to control her crying. "Daddy's getting it, sweetheart," you try to comfort her. Seconds later, the microwave goes off, and you look to Eloise with a shocked face. "Look, Ellie!" you exclaim – causing the infant to turn and look for her dad.

"One full bottle, not too cold, not too warm, for one Eloise Annette," Loki says playfully as you hand over the baby to let him feed her.

Eloise immediately stops crying, and she greedily drinks the formula. You watch on in amazement – wishing you were able to breastfeed her, but when you remember that there's a little one growing within, your hand unconsciously goes to feel your baby bump, and you smile at the thought of being able to bond with your baby in such a way.

"So," Loki says ��� interrupting your thoughts. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You cock your head and begin to stroke his cheek. "Talk about what?"

Loki gives you a sad smile. "What I saw," he says softly. "The...Chicago event."

"I don't know," you answer quickly and quietly. Upon hearing the words, your anxiety begins to race, breathing becomes hard, and your hands become sweaty. "Why do you wanna know about it?"

"I don't ever want those I love to be haunted by anything," he responds – looking back down to the feeding baby. "I know what it's like to carry a world's amount of weight on your shoulders." Loki extends his left hand, and he holds yours on the sofa in the space in between you. "And maybe...I want to...get to know you better. I wanna know everything there is to know."

You nod your head – your anxiety beginning to subside upon his gentle words and touch. "Okay," you finally agree. "Where do you want me to start?"

[kodzukyan]

the long way home (to you)

notes: happy belated birthday, rissa! cheers to our tokrev momster, the baby of group therapy, and the light of my life!! words can’t describe how much joy you bring to my life, and i’m thankful every day for you. thank you for putting up with all the dumb shit i say on the daily HAHA. i love you so much. 🥺💖 @seishue (also thank you to annette and ilayda for putting up with me as i overthink every thing HAHA 🥺) 

summary: the concept of home redefined through the years. - kokonui

wc: 1.6k

Home is an abstract concept, but it’s something Koko has always been able to define.

At eight, it was sitting in Seishu’s room and the sound of pencils scribbling on summer homework as the air conditioner hummed through the silence. At eight, it was the sound of his laughter as Seishu pouts about summer homework. At eight, it was Akane with her golden hair and sky-blue eyes as she brings in barley tea and snack cakes. At eight, it was the warmth that blooms in his chest as his heart thunders excitedly and recklessly at the sight of Akane’s pretty smiles and playful teasing.

At eight, it was the sound of fire crackling and tearing through the home he knew.

(All he sees is the painted reds and oranges of fire, burning, burning, burning through home as he knows it.

He runs into the fire anyway because he promised. He will save her, save love as he knows it. As if he’s running on autopilot, he just bulldozes through the building of burning wood and flaming memories because he purely has one end goal. He runs, runs, runs, and finally sees her, sees the promise he vowed to protect.

He doesn’t think because all he cares about is Akane, his promise, and he grabs her and runs. He sighs in relief as they make it. As he breathes in the fresh air, he sees light blue eyes staring right back at him, too light to be paired with the soft smile that flutters his heart, and he feels like he can’t breathe. He stares vacantly at Seishu, and as pain reflects back from his blue eyes, Koko hates himself for feeling upset that he saved his best friend instead of his sister.

His eyes drift from downcast eyes to the blazing building, and his heart stops. He’s breathing, but his body is frozen and his mind is dazed. The forbidding feeling in his chest swells into a looming shadow, and he feels crushed as it devours him whole.)

At eight, home burns. All he’s left with is Seishu’s hand clutching his as they stand in a white room. The love of his life laid still, and the steady beep of the heart monitor drowns out their cries.

-----

At fifteen, home was found through crimes and bonds built through money and blood. At fifteen, it was wistful thinking and forcing the image of Akane onto his best friend, hoping, praying that she will still smile at him all the same. But she doesn’t because all he recognizes is Seishu and his steady eyes as he looks forward. In contrast, Koko feels increasingly aware that he was the only one running in circles with no destination.

Seishu has constantly seen him, always looked at him as him. And despite conventional belief, while he still detects traces of Akane, he sees Seishu too. He cherishes him too, in a different way than how he loved Akane, in a way that reminds him that love is steady.

He loves Seishu in a way that he will always, always choose him. Like the consistent beat of his heart, love flows softly, tenderly, subtly. Unlike the blazing flutters of his heart he felt with Akane, it's more like the stars that twinkle night after night. With Seishu, he doesn’t have to be the Koko who exclusively knows how to break things and make money. With Seishu, he can completely just be Koko. A gentle lull, rest stop, a stronghold against the world where he doesn’t have to run, where he can finally sleep.

Seishu deserves better, though. He deserves someone who isn’t chasing after the image of a dead girl while being half in love with him. He deserves someone who isn’t running in circles, both mentally and emotionally. He deserves someone who loves him fully instead of his half-baked feelings that grow and surface with every moment, but he refuses to acknowledge.

(Because if he does, what will he have left? Who is he without money and his feelings for the one who commenced it all?

He’s a little more lost than found, so he just keeps on running, running, running in hopes to discover some answers, to finally reach somewhere he can just be.

(He doesn't know how to stop.)

Somehow, he thinks Seishu knows all along anyway with the way he still squeezes his hand and looks at him like he’s still worth it. He still enables him to lean in and tuck himself in between the crook of his neck and breathe in the scent of home.)

But home, Koko thinks, becomes a little more undefined when they part ways. Because he can no longer protect Seishu, who keeps on going and facing forwards while he’s still stuck on a repeated loop. Because he knows he’s gripping Seishu back from growing and becoming someone who can take on the world.

(Because he loves him.)

So, he lets go of home and wonders since when did it become so cold without Seishu’s hand holding his.

-----

At eighteen, he is completely lost. The sight of Akane’s smiling is long gone and the warmth of Seishu’s hand in his has gone cold. The looming shadow that has been following him is always ready to overtake him, but he fights on anyway because he has to see it through.

(See what through? He doesn’t know exactly.)

Ironically, it has incessantly been the bleakest moments when Seishu appears beside him. He’s still running loops on repeat, but he thinks an alternative path opens up when Seishu extends his hand out. He wants to take it, wants to altogether stop running because he’s so tired.

“Koko.” Seishu prompts as he holds his hand out, “I’ll give you half of my burdens, so give me half of yours too.”

He grasps Seishu’s hand, and Seishu pulls him up. Koko leans into the crook of Seishu’s neck like he did before, and as if all the years of exhaustion finally caught up to him, he cries. He cries for the loss of Akane, cries for the loss of what could have been, cries for the loss of home.

Seishu just stands still and supports him tightly in his arms as he breaks.

“I’m with you.”

He used to think he was the one who supported Seishu, but he thinks he’s been proven time and time again that it’s the opposite way around.

“We don’t talk about this,” Koko sniffles as he leans into Seishu’s hold.

“Okay,” Seishu promises and places a tender kiss on his temple.

Koko has never believed in God. God wasn’t there when he needed him; God still isn’t here when he needs him. But as their bodies press together, limbs tangled and eyes locked, he wonders if this is what heaven feels like.

("Koko," Seishu starts. A conversation that has been lingering in the back of his mind; a conversation that has to be said. He pauses, wandering eyes hesitant to confront black ones before he inhales sharply. "I’m not Akane."

Koko's teasing smile fades, intense eyes meeting crystalline blue ones that are slightly lighter than the girl he loved once. He used to imagine the boy in front of him as his sister, the one he swore he would protect, but he can’t even fathom the thought now. He can see her traces, but he thinks he never desires it to be her anymore. He just wants his best friend, his comfort, his home, him. "I know."

His callous hands reach for Seishu’s burn scar, caressing it gently before he trails down and brushes Seishu’s soft cheek. He cradles it for a moment before he presses his forehead against Seishu’s, softly, fondly. He’s earnest as his eyes staring straight into blue ones, a vulnerability in his gaze. A realization, a truth, something he’s long figured out but didn’t want to admit because he didn’t want to let go of all that he knew.

But he notes the man in front of him now, feels the warmth of his cheek and the softness in his glance, and Koko finally smiles and feels like it’s okay to stop.

“I only see you, Seishu. You, and only you.”)

At eighteen, he comes home after wandering the world, thinking maybe he can ultimately stop his journey to obtain something because he had someone all along.

-----

At twenty-one, home looks a lot like the one from his childhood. A modest one-bedroom apartment with an equally small living room and kitchen, but there’s still the sound of pencils scribbling as Seishu writes down the grocery list and the air conditioner still hums through the summer daze.

Life feels so calm that everything before this moment feels like a fever dream. He wakes up next to Seishu, drinks coffee — black for him, two sugars and heavy on the milk for Seishu — together before they part ways for work or whatever they have for the day. They take turns picking dinner or leave it to the roulette when they can’t decide, and sometimes they go out with their friends for drinks at night.

Within these four walls of the apartment, there are memories immortalized as pictures, and furniture far too expensive for a little place like this. Heels line up in the doorway, name-brand jackets fill the closet, a set of matching silverware picked out together.

A home meant for two, and love blankets every crevice in this small home and his heart.

Home, Koko thinks, perchance is a person all along as he stares at Seishu, who only smiles and holds out his hand as he catches his eyes. Koko reflectively smiles back and laces their fingers together.

“You ready?” Seishu asks, a grocery list in hand and his heart in the other.

“With you? Always,” he responds back with a grin, knowing he equally holds Seishu’s heart too.

Home, Koko thinks, is definitely Seishu all along. 

[blackacre13]

loubbie sickfic? 😁

I feel like our gals are both bad at being sick, but Deb is far worse so here’s a snippet of them both! 🤒

LOU—

“Louise Annette Miller, come in here this instant!” Debbie yelled, looking around the room and failing to see the blonde.

The window shifted slightly and Debbie watched as Lou appeared with a sheepish grin, a cigarette bobbing between her lips as she ducked back in through the window, throwing the cigarette out on the ground as she rolled over it with her heel.

“Boxers and a camisole?” Debbie sighed. “Lou, you have a fever. You need to be in bed with layers on. Come here.”

“Deb,” Lou groaned. “I’m fine. The blonde let out a sneeze, hitting her head on the window as she tried to climb back in. She rubbed at it, a furious expression on her face.

“Yep,��� Debbie laughed. “Perfectly fine.”

Lou grumbled something under her breath, but made her way across the room Debbie, furiously rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

“Cold, baby?” Debbie asked, her voice filled with concern. She reached out to feel the blonde’s forehead with the back of her hand as Lou nodded. “Let’s put you back in bed.”

Lou nodded again, and Debbie ran to catch her as she noticed her sway a bit with the motion. She helped pull back the covers and assisted Lou as she sunk under the sheets, signing as her back hit the mattress.

“Want one of your flannels?” Debbie asked softly, pushing back the blonde’s bangs and drowning with concern.

Lou shook her head no.

“Lou, baby, you need something,”

Debbie sighed. “You’re in a tank top for Christ’s sake and—“

The blonde gave her a shy look, her blue eyes pleading and Debbie was grateful, not for the first time, that most times, she was able to read the blonde’s mind.

“You want one of my sweatshirts instead?”

Lou’s face lit up. Debbie chuckled as she pressed a kiss to the Australian’s forehead between fetching one of her college sweatshirts out of her drawers and bringing it over to Lou, helping it over her head.

Debbie tucked Lou into the blankets and Lou smiled softly against the pillows, now comfortable, though she’d probably never admit it.

“I’m going to heat you up some soup,”

Debbie whispered, deciding that Lou wasn’t getting enough liquids on her own judging by the Gatorade that hadn’t been drunk and the only half-gone water bottle.

Debbie turned away to head into the kitchen, but she felt Lou’s hand stop her own.

“Stay,” Lou whispered. “Please, Deb.”

“But your soup...”

“I promise I’ll try later,” Lou smiled softly. “Just stay with me, please.”

Debbie couldn’t resist Lou and the blonde knew it, patting the sheets beside her. Debbie circled back, crawling under the sheets and sat back against the headboard. Lou snuggled into her side, using Debbie’s chest as a pillow.

“Thanks for taking care of me, honey,” Lou whispered.

“You’d do the same for me,” Debbie shrugged.

“Yes,” Lou nodded. “But you are a far worse patient.”

Debbie let out a scoff.

“Far. Worse.” Lou repeated.

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

DEBBIE—

Debbie tossed back the cup of NyQuil and made a noise, scrunching her nose at the taste of the green liquid.

“God,” she sighed. “Don’t tell me wife that stuff tastes like shit, okay Lou?”

Lou tried to hold back a laugh as she was Debbie’s wife and Debbie herself had in fact just revealed this secret to her.

“I won’t tell her,” Lou smiled. “Promise.”

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings,”

Debbie shrugged. “She’s just trying to help.”

“Medicine can help even if it tastes like ass, Deb.”

“That’s true,” Debbie sighed. “But she took away my list notebook. She won’t let me plan anything. Says I need to rest.”

“The nerve,” Lou sighed dramatically trying not to laugh again.

Debbie kept babbling to Lou, neither quite sure who she thought she was speaking to, until she tired herself out, leaning back against the pillow, snoring at a loud volume because her nose was stuffed and her mouth was hanging open so she could breathe. It certainly wasn’t the Met gala presentation Debbie or even one who wore stilettos for no reason, but Lou was still smitten with her wife, even if she admittedly was a pain in the ass when she was sick.

The brunette let out a particularly loud snore that made Lou jump. She studied her for a moment, deciding to make sure she had something to eat when she woke up.

She rolled out of bed, intent on warming up some leftover Chinese for Debbie and force feeding her the wonton soup if that’s what it came to.

The blonde was hoping that Debbie slept a little longer than the fifteen minute intervals of NyQuil dream napping she was doing, but she felt hands wrap around her waist a moment later which told her that Debbie was up again from another night of sleep gone wrong and turned miniature nap.

“Hey, sexy,” Debbie tried to purr in a sultry voice that turned into a cough.

“Hot,” Lou smirked.

“Whatcha doing, baby?” Debbie asked, peering over Lou’s shoulders. She was wearing one of Lou’s old sweaters that had fallen off her shoulder and a pair of Danny’s old sweatpants.

“Heating up some food for you so you can eat and get back to sleep,” explained. “Hopefully for the night this time. I don’t know anyone else who can fight NyQuil like this. It’s actually absurd.”

“The CIA trained me,” Debbie smirked.

“Ah,” Lou nodded. “Didn’t realize they recruited from their watch list.”

“Made an exception for me,” Debbie yawned. “Baby?”

“Mm?” Lou asked, pulling the plastic container from the microwave and opening the lid.

“If I’m a good girl for you, will you fuck me right here?” Debbie asked without breaking eye contact. A wonton from the soup Lou was pouring into a bowl for Debbie made its escape onto the counter as Lou lost her grip for the moment in shock.

“Deb,” Lou sighed. “You’re running a 103 fever.”

“Cause I’m hot for you, baby.”

Lou smacked her face into her palm.

“Deb, you know you need your rest,” Lou tsked. “We can’t get you all sweaty or accelerate your heart rate.”

“I can just do it myself you know,” Debbie hinted.

“Debbie, you need to go get in bed right now,”

Lou commanded. “If I come up with your soup and you’re touching yourself when you should be resting I swear I will bind your hands and feed you with the spoon myself.”

“Kinky,” Debbie winked.

“You’re relentless,” Lou sighed, exasperated, but she was laughing. “Go. Bed. Now.”

“But baby,”

“Deb,” Lou warned.

“Will you read to me?” Debbie yawned. “Like you did when I would wake up with nightmares. I just need help falling asleep better. And knowing you’re right there helps.”

“Of course, love,” Lou smiled. “Of course I can.”

“I love you,” Debbie whispered before scurrying up the steps.

“I love you too, dumbass,” Lou called up the steps of the loft.

[collecting-stories]

Shane pt. 2 - c. 17 - Daryl Dixon

Summary: Shane causes trouble but nothing that stops you from being with Daryl.

A/N: It's Norman Reedus’ bday so I had to get this posted tonight.

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

The first time you told him that you liked him, Daryl’s response had been instantaneous. He knew how he felt about you but he also knew that getting into a relationship with you wouldn’t be good, for you at least. He didn’t want you to deal with the way that people would talk about you, the way he already knew they were when you were just hanging around him. 

Going to your graduation party wasn’t his best idea, he knew that too. But he thought about that invite all night, the way you’d smiled at him when you got out of the truck after he drove you home, asking again if he would come to the party. He’d avoided any other invitation you had offered and yet, for some reason, he couldn’t avoid this one.  

And when you kissed him, he didn’t stop you.  

It was the only time in his life that Daryl could remember doing something simply because he wanted to. He liked you and when you kissed him, he let himself like you without thinking about everyone else. Which was for the worst obviously, because the second he let himself focus on only the two of you, everything went to hell.  

He couldn’t stand Shane; the guy was a loser and always had been. The fact that you had wasted your time on him was unbelievable sometimes.  

“Shane, just go back up...I’ll be there in a minute.” You tried once more to get Shane to leave, to halt the growing tension in its path.  

“So, you’re seeing Dixon now?” Shane asked, looking passed Daryl to you.  

“Not really any of your business.” You snapped.  

“I already told you, whatever’s going on with you, I still care. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of you.” He replied and you almost laughed.  

“Rich coming from you,” you muttered. “Just go back up to the house, Shane.”  

“You know what,” Shane said, obviously ready to get one more thing off his chest before he left, “my family’s lived across from the Dixons for a while now. I know all about ‘em.” He said it as if it was a threat, looking over at Daryl as if it could uncover some great secret that you didn’t know about.  

“Good to know.” You pulled on the sleeve of Daryl’s jacket, getting him to look at you instead of Shane, “can you just take me home, I don’t care about the stupid cake.”  

“That’s fine,” Daryl nodded, “go ‘head and get in.”  

Before he could move out of the way and let you get in the cab, Shane grabbed your arm, trying to pull you toward him, “hey! I’m not done talking to you!”  

Just as he yanked your arm Daryl shoved him back, the motion making you lose your footing and fall on the grass, landing on your hip. You pushed yourself up in time to catch Daryl tackling Shane to the ground, knocking him into one of the lanterns.  

He punched him, fist slamming into his nose and Shane practically screaming at the feeling of his nose likely breaking. He tried to push Daryl off him but it was no use, Daryl continuing to punch him as they wrestled in the dirt.  

Annette had the sense to mention sending Shane down to get you and Rick, who had stopped by with Michonne to congratulate you and hopefully get a slice of cake, asked exactly where you were, knowing things weren’t good between you two. He and Michonne were heading down the path just as Daryl tackled Shane. They picked up speed, practically running as Shane got the upper hand, locking his arm around Daryl’s neck in a chokehold. You had managed to get up off the ground, kicking Shane’s back and throwing him off enough that he let go of Daryl, who rolled away from him and stood up.  

Rick grabbed Shane, pushing him away from Daryl.  

“Walk it off Shane!” Rick snapped. You imagined that was his stern Officer Grimes voice.  

“We were just talking.”  

“Like hell,” Daryl said, “touch her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”  

“Hey,” you grabbed his arm again, pulling away from Shane. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” you promised, trying to put your hands on his face and turn his head to look at you. Your eyes met in the dark, “It’s okay.”  

“Daryl,” Michonne started to say and he nodded his head, already knowing where she was going.  

“I’m leaving.” He said, pulling away from you. “I’ll see ya.” He promised.  

You watched him swing the passenger door shut as he walked around the other side of the truck, climbing in and backing out the driveway. Michonne was standing with you, Rick walking Shane back up to the house and away from you, dissipating the tension of the moment and leaving you in the aftermath of it.  

“Looks like you keep finding me after fights huh?” You said, looking over at Michonne, trying to make light of the situation.  

“You sure know how to pick ‘em.” Michonne replied.  

“To be fair, Daryl’s the only one I’m ‘picking’. Shane’s a douche, he just can’t take a hint.” You said.  

“So you and Daryl are dating then?” She asked, putting her arm around you to help you walk up the path now that Rick and Shane were far enough away. “God, I can’t remember a time he’s ever dated anyone.”  

“I don’t know if we’re...dating but-” you groaned, pain shooting up your leg as you miss stepped.  

Michonne gripped your arm, helping you get your balance. “Are you okay?” She asked, trying to look you over. The light on the path was limited to the lanterns, not enough that Michonne could clearly see though, “let's get you up to the house.”  

You walked carefully the rest of the way up to the house, ignoring some partygoers as Michonne brought you into the house, pulling a chair into the kitchen and instructing you to sit down so that she could get ice. The screen door banged open, Maggie and Beth coming inside, “I saw Michonne bring you in here, what happened?”  

“I’m fine,” you lied, shifting away from both of them so that they couldn’t see the dirt on the side of your dress or the hint of a bruise forming that was visible under the hem. You knew you should’ve been focused on the throbbing pain that was running through your hip but all you were really focused on was Daryl and if Shane freaking out on the two of you would change anything that had happened moments before. If he had the chance to overthink the kiss would he regret it and go back to trying to avoid you?  

“We’ll be right out,” Michonne promised, managing to kick the Greene girls out of their own kitchen, closing the screen door behind them. She was no stranger to news in King County and how fast it traveled, the last thing you or Daryl needed was anyone hearing about the fight he and Shane had gotten in. “Here’s some ice,” she offered you a bag of ice cubes wrapped in a dish cloth, pressing it against your hip as you took hold of it, “should help with the bruising. Can you tell me what happened?”  

“This like an interrogation or something?” You asked, crossing your legs to relieve the pain in your hip, taking weight off it as you shifted in the chair.  

“I just wanna understand what happened,” she explained, grabbing another chair and sitting down across from you.  

“I was down at the barn with Daryl when Shane came down, said Annette sent him to get me for cake. I told him I’d be right up and he started saying shit to me and Daryl...he gave us trouble a little while ago,” you said.  

“What happened then?”  

“Nothing, I was at the gas station. We got in the truck and left.” You replied.  

“You were with Daryl again?”  

“Shane doesn’t like that I’m not still head over heels in love with him.” You said, “he’s got something against Daryl too, doesn’t think I should be hanging around him.”  

“I’m sure a lot of people are thinking that.” Michonne admitted, knowing what people said about her friend.  

“That’s cause they don’t know anything about Daryl, they just like not liking him.” You snapped, looking away.  

“I’m not arguing with you.” She replied. “I been friends with Daryl for a little while now, he’s one of the best ones. Look, let me drive you home?” She offered.  

“I’m staying with Tara this weekend,” you mentioned, “we drove here in my jeep, she’s got the keys.”  

“Okay, wait here, I’ll go find her.”  

Before Michonne could get all the way out the kitchen door you called her, catching her attention. You turned in the chair, twisting to look at her, “do you think Daryl will still talk to me? I mean, he’s been saying we shouldn’t be together and now we kinda...finally got together...and Shane fucked it up.”  

“I don’t think Daryl’s going anywhere.” Michonne replied. “I’ll be right back, you ice that hip.”  

-

Despite you most likely driving Tara crazy all Saturday night into Sunday morning, she didn’t say anything negative about you and Daryl. She suggested that you talk to him, look for him at the autoshop or his house and, technically, you knew that was the best solution but you were nervous. Worried that Shane losing it on the two of you would push Daryl away from you and now that you had him, now that he wasn’t fighting it, you didn’t want your relationship with him to be over before it started.  

You drug your feet over it until Sunday night when you finally drove to his house, parking on the street and walking down the short driveway to the carport. “Did I know you had a bike?” You asked, catching sight of Daryl crouched down in front of a motorcycle, or something resembling one, that was up on supports.  

He turned to look at you, standing up and wiping his hands on the rag in the back pocket of his pants. “Been working on it for a couple months, had ta finish yer jeep first,” he replied, glancing passed your shoulder to the jeep sitting on the curb.

“Are you building it?” You asked, noticing the absence of tires on it.  

“Yeah, trying ta get it up an’ running.” He watched you walk closer, stepping up beside him to look at the bike closer. Daryl didn’t give much thought to what he did next, he put his hand on your arm, just above your elbow, drawing your attention to him. When you turned your head he leaned in, kissing you. “Sorry,” he apologized when he pulled away, “just wanted ta do that again.”

“That’s fine with me.” You smiled, kissing him one more time. “I was worried you’d throw in the towel on me after that whole mess with Shane.” You admitted.  

Daryl shrugged, walking over to the mini fridge and grabbing himself a beer, “he’s a prick, always has been. Don’t bother me. Ya alright though? Michonne said ya got hurt?”

“I bruised my hip,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. “Think it was when I fell.”

“Ya alright?” He asked again, “ya want me ta look at it?”  

“You want me to take my pants off...”

“Ain’t what I was saying.” Daryl was quick to explain, the red tinting his cheeks.

“I know, I just like bothering you.” You replied.  

“Ya are a bother,” he said, taking a sip of his beer, “I’ll give ya that.” When he walked back over to the bike, laying his bottle on the ground near it, you dragged the chair over closer to him so you could watch, beginning to tell him about the cake that Annette had sent you home with, offering him the piece you brought with you. 

-

Taglist: @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @angelophany @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @mainokutan @sabertooth-potato @solllaris @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @meziah-48 @dietspriteaddict @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @guccicloudz @sapphire-angel @buzzybhee @alexbealee @elodieyung @its-evita-here @marvelfanatic @pulplorrd @shizukunora

[7-wonders]

Circling the Drain

Summary: It's a race against time...wait, why do people say that? It's not a race against some outside force, it's a race against a crazed back-from-the-dead mafioso with a vengeance.

Word Count: 3454

A/N: I tried something a little different for this chapter in terms of formatting, mainly because there was so much I wanted to fit in different POVS. Uhhhhh let me know your thoughts and like, comments and reblogs make my world go round. ALSO that second gif is exactly how I imagine a certain scene (you'll know it when you read it).

Warnings: Very torture heavy chapter. Blood, torture methods, guns, knives, kidnappings, talk of death. You should probably go pet some puppies or kittens after you read this.

Previous chapters of Memento Mori: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

Duncan

It’s difficult to know how much time has passed since Duncan was last outside of this small concrete room. There’s no windows to let light in, no clocks to denote the hour, and no sort of schedule that he can catch on to. Although, even if there were a schedule, he would be too delirious from sleep deprivation to realize that there was one. The only thing that Duncan can count on is the unending torture at the hands of his uncle.

All of the crisis training in the world wouldn’t have prepared him for the physical and mental torture that he’s been put through. Though he doesn’t know it, it’s been almost seventy-two hours of this absolute hell, of Bill beating him black and blue, taunting him, slowly ripping out fingernails one by one (somehow, he still has six, though one of the six is just barely hanging on), refusing to let him sleep, and tasing him back to consciousness whenever he tries to close his eyes. This most recent time, the throbbing of his head had begged him enough to where he finally closed his eyes, only to be jolted up with a rush of electricity running through his body and seizing his muscles.

“You still think you’re getting out of it that easy, huh? That you can fall asleep and bide your time until you’re ‘rescued?’” Bill chuckles. “No, it’s not that easy.”

“Just kill me already, if that’s what you’re planning on,” Duncan says through clenched teeth, glaring up at Bill through the one eye that’s not completely swollen shut.

“Is that what you want? You want me to kill you?” His obviously-fake concern would enough to make bile rise in Duncan’s throat, if he had actually had anything left in his stomach.

“You want me to beg for it, don’t you?”

“I guess I underestimated you. Turns out you do have some sort of critical thinking skills.”

Duncan defiantly turns his head, refusing to give Bill what he wants. Realizing this, Bill begins to walk towards the door. As he does, going to flick off the single light bulb in this place, Duncan’s chest tightens in anticipation of the claustrophobia he’ll surely begin to feel (most likely a side-effect of what he’s gone through, considering he’s never been scared of dark spaces before) and he scrambles to stall him. “So why are you keeping me alive?”

Bill stops for a moment before slowly turning around. “I already told you.”

“No, I know that you want revenge. But what’s your plan? Why waste your time? Surely you’ll at least give me the honor of knowing what I’m dying for?”

His jaw clenches, not pleased with that last question, but he doesn’t hit Duncan. Yet. “I’m taking back what’s mine, and then some.”

“And you think Mom’s going to be okay with that?”

“Your poor mother is going to be more than okay with that when she finds out that the Coven killed her only child.”

Slowly, it dawns on Duncan. “You’re the one that’s been killing people in the Coven’s style and leaving them in our territory?”

“Of course I am!” Bill holds his arms out as if to say ‘tah-dah!’ “Cordelia Goode would never be so bold as to do that! But after I kill you, drain you of your blood, cut your tongue out, dump you in the Potomac, and reappear into society, people won’t care about that little fact. Especially after I reveal that it was the Coven that prompted me to fake my own death and go into hiding for years.”

“How long were you planning this?”

“About a year before you stabbed me, when I realized that you were far too…” he grits his teeth, “charismatic to not end up with the family business eventually. That’s why I always made sure that the police and paramedics were well-paid, just in case the day ever came that I needed them to lie on my behalf.”

“You have it all planned then, so why not just do it and kill me now?”

“Well, there are a couple of minor issues I still need to work out.” Bill glances at Duncan slyly. “Such as what to do with that girlfriend of yours.”

In a flash, Duncan sees red. He lunges, forgetting the fact that he’s chained to the radiator and can only go so far until his ankle is jerked violently and he falls back to the ground. “You leave her alone, she’s done nothing wrong!”

“You’re right, she hasn’t, but (Y/N) knows too much.”

Duncan’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that Bill (predictably) knows more than he should.

“I’m thinking a suicide? It’s very believable, what with the grieving girlfriend and all.” Bill steps forward and, ever so slowly, places his foot on one of Duncan’s hands. “Maybe she slits her wrists in the bath? It’s very easy to overpower someone when they’re vulnerable. Or perhaps she overdoses? That’s not my preferred method, though, far too much room for someone to survive an overdose. Tell me, Duncan, how would you prefer that she die?” With each possible method, Bill continues to lay more pressure on Duncan’s hand until Duncan is moaning in pain.

“Don’t...hurt her,” Duncan pants.

Bill finally removes his foot, giving Duncan a moment to breathe before he stomps on his hand, digging the toe of his shoe in until Duncan is screaming and Bill is sure his hand is broken. “I think she’ll jump into the Potomac with a weight tied around her ankle. The poeticism--her drowning in the same river that your body will be found in--is something that’s just too good to pass up.”

“I’ll kill you. I swear to God, I’ll kill you again and make sure that it sticks this time.” Tears are streaming down Duncan’s face, though whether that’s from the physical or emotional agony he’s in, he can’t be sure.

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Bill smiles, walking to the light switch and flicking it off. “I’ll be back in a bit, and then our final act can finally begin.”

This time, Duncan doesn’t stop him before he leaves, barely letting the door close before his willpower crumbles and he begins to sob. Cradling his injured hand, he has to force himself to look at the now-mangled fingers. He gasps, attempting to straighten them out, but they refuse to even twitch in response. It’s now that Duncan realizes that the true torture is waiting. His mind and body shattered, he now has to be at the mercy of Bill Shepherd before he can finally die. He’s never wished for death before, but now, he feels a pang in his heart for every one of his victims that have had to wait, broken and bruised, for Duncan to kill them.

You

“Does this location have any significance to you?” Cordelia asks Annette, pointing to an address hastily written down on a scrap of paper. The address corresponds to a building, fairly nondescript, but obviously holding some sort of significance.

“No, it doesn’t.” Annette shakes her head.

“That’s because this is the location of the first school that I opened here in D.C. Bastard’s really going all in on trying to frame me for everything he’s done.”

(Y/N), who had previously been dozing off on Langdon’s lap (Langdon had already made her swear not to tell anybody or else he would kill her in her dreams like Freddy Kreuger), sits straight up at this moment. “What makes you think he’s there?” she asks.

“This car.” Cordelia pulls another paper out from the folder she had brought with her, this one a picture of a Mercedes E-Class. “It’s been back and forth from Umbra to the old school numerous times in the past two days. License plates are registered back to Umbra.”

“So it’s definitely Bill, then.”

“I’m not typically a betting woman, but I would put money on this. Surveillance indicates that this car has been parked in front of the Goode Academy for six straight hours now.”

(Y/N) doesn’t know much about hostage situations, but she has to assume that Bill being where Duncan is held captive for an extended amount of time means nothing good.

“We need to move now, then,” Annette says. There’s no question behind her voice; she’s going to get her son.

“Yes. Your team?”

“Myself, Langdon, and (Y/N).”

Cordelia glances warily at (Y/N). “Do you have combat experience?”

“Duncan trained me to fight, and also did some weapons training with me,” (Y/N) says.

“That’s good enough.” (Y/N) tries not to be offended. “I have myself, Madison, Misty, and Mallory.”

“We’re going?” Mallory, a brunette wearing a gold headband, says.

“I need my best girls, and you three have proven yourselves.”

“Alright then, let’s go.” Annette grabs a key from around her neck and unlocks what you thought to be a closet door, opening it to reveal a weapons cache large enough to rival a small government’s. “Stock up.”

“Which gun are you most comfortable with?” Langdon asks (Y/N), the two standing side-by-side after everybody else has had their turn.

“Uh, I don’t really know the names. It’s a handgun, and it’s black.”

“Probably a Springfield, then.” Langdon hands (Y/N) a gun that looks similar to ones that she’s handled before. “It’s already loaded.”

“Thanks.” She glances at Langdon after holstering her own weapon, watching as he selects numerous guns of different sizes. “What if we’re too late?”

“We won’t be.”

“But you heard what Cordelia said. Bill’s been there for six straight hours now. He could have--”

“You’re right, he could have,” Langdon interrupts. “But we can’t go in there assuming that the worst outcome has come true. We have to have hope. If nothing else, there’s always hope.”

“I have hope.”

“Good, because I do, too.” Langdon grabs a knife from the weapons closet, twirling the tip of the blade on his index finger. “Now let’s go get Duncan back.”

Duncan

Bill stands before Duncan, twirling the tip of a knife on his index finger. “I’ve held onto this for six years now. Do you recognize it?”

Of course Duncan recognizes the knife that he stabbed his uncle with. In his dreams, he can still feel the cool leather handle gripped tightly in his palm.

“It’s something of a treasure to me, although it certainly didn’t seem like it at first. I’ve come to recognize the significance of holding the thing that almost killed me, and I like to keep it as a reminder.” Bill holds the knife out to Duncan, knowing he’s too weak to fight him for it. “See that on the blade? Why don’t you read it for me?”

Cursive lettering is engraved on the blade, though it was not there when the knife had been in Duncan’s possession. “Memento mori,” Duncan mutters, trying to remember his Latin lessons from high school.

“It was an extremely popular phrase during the medieval period, specifically when it came to funerals. ‘Remember you must die.’ It’s a warning, a reminder. That’s what this knife has become to me, a reminder of the inevitability of death. It also reminds me that I’ve survived death before, and I’ll surely survive it again.”

“Quite the sense of humor,” Duncan remarks dryly.

Bill shrugs, bending down to Duncan’s level. “A little gauche, perhaps, but I enjoy the significance of the phrase.”

Duncan’s about to ask him what the point of this is when Bill shows him by shoving the knife into his abdomen. Duncan grunts in pain, gritting his teeth and glaring at him. “Of course you’re going to stab me just like I stabbed you.”

“Do you know how I managed to survive?” Bill asks.

“I’ve tried not to think about it much.”

“I survived,” Bill continues, “because you were too stupid to realize that you needed to pull the knife out. What do all of the medical professionals say when training civilians on dealing with stabbings? ‘Don’t remove the weapon.’ That’s the only thing keeping them from bleeding out, and it’s what kept me from bleeding out.”

“I had assumed I severed your abdominal aorta, what with all the blood.”

“Exactly, ‘assumed.’” Bill digs the knife around to watch the way that Duncan tries not to scream before pulling it out and watching as blood begins to pour out of the wound. For every beat of Duncan’s frantic heart, trying to pump blood to the source of the injury in an attempt to clot it, more blood pulses out. “Never assume things, my boy.”

Though his head is starting to spin, Duncan finds just enough rage to spit at Bill. “Go to hell.”

“From the looks of it, you’ll be there long before me,” he says almost gleefully before pulling out a gun and shooting him in the thigh. This time, Duncan openly screams. “Just wanted to make sure you actually die, if the stabbing wasn’t enough.” Bill’s extremely nonchalant, as if he’s discussing the nuances of the Nationals rather than talking about murder.

Bill grabs a key and unlocks the chain from around Duncan’s leg, knowing that he won’t have the strength to escape. “I’ll be back in half an hour to check on you.”

“Fuck you,” Duncan responds, but Bill’s already gone.

Duncan moans in pain as he stares at his wounds, feeling the stickiness of blood beginning to pool under him. Lifting a shaky hand, he presses it to his abdomen to try and slow the bleeding. As he swallows deeply, realizing that he very likely is going to die shortly, he thinks about a number of things, mainly regrets.

He wishes that he had realized earlier that his mom was just as much Bill’s victim as he was.

He wishes that he appreciated Michael more for the brother he had been to him.

He wishes that he had told (Y/N) that he loved her more often.

But most especially, Duncan wishes that he had just put a bullet in Bill’s head that night instead of stabbing him. Then, he wouldn’t be feeling this intense cold begin to settle in his bones as he’s forced to slowly die on the concrete floor of a basement. Facing the Grim Reaper head-on is not nearly as dramatic as he thought it would be.

You

Watching the Coven, Langdon, and Annette taking out the defectors is not nearly as dramatic as (Y/N) thought it would be. Wisely, they had requested that she stay behind until the perimeter was secured. It’s much quieter, and a lot less bloody; as it turns out, members of organized crime do have consciences, and chose to subdue those not directly a threat. After Langdon finishes tying those who had remained loyal to Bill together, Cordelia motions for (Y/N) to follow the group into the old school.

The proud sign that once declared this building the Goode Academy now lies in the dirt of the overgrown lawn. The doors are open, solely because the rusted hinges make it impossible for them to remain closed against a gentle breeze. The further that they make it inside, the more frantic (Y/N) is. She knows that they’re close to Duncan, she just doesn’t know what state they’ll find Duncan in. Before they can make it too far with Cordelia as their guide, Bill appears. Instead of holding a machine gun, which is kind of what (Y/N) had expected, he has a concerned look on his face.

“Annette, thank god you’re here! I know this must be confusing to you, but when I heard that Duncan was missing, I knew that I needed to save him from the bitches that had sent me into hiding years ago.”

Confusion blankets (Y/N)’s mind as she tries to figure out what’s going on, but Annette doesn’t feel the same. “Cut the shit, Bill. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Bill laughs. “You’re going to let Cordelia Goode manipulate you into believing her, after she tried to kill me?”

“You’re an idiot. You think I don’t smell the blood in the air?” Annette laughs viciously, a verbal slap in the face. “Where’s my son?”

Like a switch was flipped, the worry on Bill’s face falls into contempt. “You’ve always been too emotional for your own good, Annette.”

“‘Family over everything,’” Annette quotes. “Remember that? What happened to that?”

“That died the day that that--that mistake came back from boarding school and decided that our business, the empire we built from the ground up, was his birthright.”

“You never were good at sharing, were you?”

The siblings stare at each other for a moment before Bill sighs. “You could have just been complicit, but no. Guess I’ll have to think on the fly, then.” He pulls out a gun and cocks the hammer back.

Before he can fire, Madison and Mallory appear from behind him, having snuck into the back. Madison knocks the gun out of his hand, the weapon firing into the ceiling, as Mallory socks him in the face and drives him to his knees. Both women force his hands behind him, holding him still as Cordelia walks up to him.

“The door to the basement is in the kitchen, hidden behind the left wall of the pantry,” Cordelia says to the group.

(Y/N)’s off, moving as fast as she can while maneuvering through the unfamiliar house. “Wait, you can’t do this. Annette, you aren’t really going to let the Coven, of all people, do this to me?” Bill pleads.

“I can actually, and I will. After all,” Annette turns to Cordelia, “we have a deal.”

In the kitchen, (Y/N) throws open the pantry door, pushing and shoving and pulling at the left wall before it finally opens to reveal a set of stairs.

“Girls?” Annette calls just before she reaches the door. “Make it painful.”

(Y/N) runs down the stairs, hands scrambling along the wall until she comes across a light switch. Flicking it on, her eyes look around the room until she sees a lifeless figure on the floor that’s surrounded by a pool of blood. A cry is ripped from her chest as she falls to her knees beside Duncan, hands hovering above him as she tries to figure out what to do first.

He’s pale, scarily so, and he’s breathing so shallowly that she can’t tell he’s breathing at first. Somehow, with all the blood, he’s still breathing. All (Y/N) can focus on is the fact that he’s still alive (later, she’ll wonder how she didn’t even flinch at all of the injuries and the blood, oh, the blood) as she rips her shirt off and presses it firmly against the wound on his stomach, calling his name over and over again in increasing levels of desperation.

From behind her, she can hear Annette scream and yell for Langdon to call an ambulance. She can feel the presence of somebody next to her as they catalogue where Duncan’s hurt, but she can’t bring herself to look away from Duncan’s face. His perfect face, that she’s kissed over and over a thousand times and has taken immense pleasure in watching a blush rise to the surface. His perfect face that she’s now slapping to try and get him to at least show some sort of response.

“You don’t get to die like this,” she tells him, hoping that he’ll somehow manage to hear her. “You said that you didn’t want to be the reason I suffered, but look at you now, making me suffer. Don’t keep me suffering like this!”

Slowly, and just barely, his eyes crack open just enough that (Y/N) can see a hint of blue. His lips move, saying something without audible sound, and she brings her head down to his to try and catch what he’s saying.

“An angel.” She finally makes out what his reverent whisper is over the wail of the incoming ambulances, and laughs brokenly as her head falls onto his chest in relief.

//

@sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @ajokeformur-ray @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @michaellangdon @jimmlangdon @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonslove @born-on-stgeorges-day @xavierplympton @michaelsapostle @venusxxlangdon @wroteclassicaly @idespac @tcc-gizmachine @dyns33 @hexqueensupreme @hecatemacbeth7 @youngandfleeting @lambofcairo @myluciferiscody @anacerta @ladyren33 @ladyrindt @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @blakewaterxx @9layerdevilfoodcake @angelicmichael @takingback-thecrown @etherealsxnder

[boydiisaster]

I've been getting back into FE3H this past week and the blue lions have been living in my head rent free sdfkgjfj

As a fellow ace may I request some hcs of gn!reader coming out as ace to the blue lions boys? If you don't want to do all of them then just Ashe and Sylvain pls owo

The Blue Lion boys reacting to the reader coming out as ace

reader: gender neutral

fandom: fe3h

author's note: ah, i love writing these coming out things! they make me so happy. especially when they're mlm and/or ace :3

Dimitri

You nervously came out to him one day, fiddling with the cuffs of your academy uniform. You and Dimitri had been friends for a while, he should accept you... right?

Dimitri just blinked at you.

Poor Dimitri, there isn't a single braincell behind those eyes.

Please explain. He promises he won't hate you for it!

You tell him what asexual means, and Dimitri simply smiles. "That's wonderful, Y/N! I'm so glad you trust me enough to tell me."

If you two ever start dating, your relationship will consist of happy cuddles and lots and lots of kisses.

Dimitri is perfectly okay with not having a sexual relationship with you.

Dedue

Unlike his prince, Dedue understands as soon as you come out.

He's friends with Annette. He knows what asexual means.

He's very accepting. Smiles and offers you another scone.

You told him over tea time.

"Thank you for entrusting me with this, Y/N. It must have been very nerve racking for you."

You beam at him, accepting the scone. "Thank you, Dedue."

Dedue will be content in your relationship if the two of you ever begin dating. He loves holding your hands and having you around to give him encouraging kisses when he's stressed.

Please give Dedue love, he deserves love-

Ashe

You're asexual? He is, too!

You told him after a battle, hair wild and eyes tired. You were sore, covered in monster blood, and you just let it slip.

Ashe just smiled at you as you looked scared.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I am, as well."

He just doesn't see the appeal of sex. He thinks it's more romantic to just send your lover ripped, tea soaked papers with words conveying his love for them.

I do too, Ashe, don't worry.

Writing poems, baking cakes, cooking for your lover? All very romantic and sweet. So why do you need sex?

Cuddles are also very cool.

If Ashe ever becomes your boyfriend? Prepare for him to do all of the things I just listed. He'll wake you up for breakfast: fluffy pancakes coated with maple syrup, blueberries topping them, fresh milk, and anything else you want along side it. Gentle kisses against your temple, cheeks, and lips. Warm hugs, soft cuddles, and innocent touches against your back and arms.

He'll read you stories as the two of you cuddle, your head against his chest as his arms are wrapped around you, holding you close as he tells of exciting tales.

Gods, is a relationship like this too much of me to ask for-

Felix

Honestly, Felix also gives me ace vibes, if not mlm ones, so just like Ashe, he's asexual. Only not as romantic.

He's just never wanted that stuff, he guesses.

He's always been too busy. That, and what's the appeal? Pleasure? He gets that from besting someone in a sword match. Why do you need sex?

You came out to him by accident, yet again. The two of you were hanging out with Sylvain when he asked you if you thought Hilda was hot or not.

"She's pretty," you replied, keeping it simple. "I like her hair."

"Would you sleep with her?"

You blinked. "I'm asexual, Sylvain."

"I am, too," Felix grumbles.

Felix and you bond over your mutual lack of sexual attraction. Also, if you like swords and fighting, that's a plus, too.

If you start dating, Felix is sweet. A lot nicer than he is to his friends, but still just as mean sometimes.

"Felix, would you still like me if I was a worm?"

"No. Shut up."

He shows his love in weird ways. Buying you weapons he thinks you'd like, pointing out things that remind him of you to you. Sometimes he'll flick your forehead or punch your arm lightly. He'll bite you to get your attention in private. His love language is touch, but not gentle touches. More like sweeping your legs out from under you and then gazing down at you as you lay in the dirt.

Felix loves teasing you, partner or not. So be prepared for him to constantly make fun of you.

When he calls you a fucking idiot with no brain or common sense, he means it lovingly, I promise.

Sylvain

Another one that gives off major ace/mlm but closeted vibes. Like I know in canon he says that the only reason he's a playboy is because of his crest and how society sees him, but just??? Let me have my fun, okay??? :(

Anyways, he's surprisingly understanding when you come out to him. He'll give you a smile and pinch your cheek.

"Well one of us has to be the whore, so I guess it's up to me."

"Sylvain, wait, no-"

If you ever start dating, Sylvain will be extremely happy. All anyone ever saw in him was a crest: someone to give them a thrill, babies, sex. But you? You didn't want sex. You didn't see a crest, didn't see the wealth that he had, the fame you'd aquire by being his spouse. You simply saw Sylvain himself for who he is.

Sylvain will love you for eternity because of that.

His love language is gift giving and nobody will tell me otherwise. Dating or not, this man will spoil you. Oh, you want that new book? Sylvain's got you. Clothes, weapons, anything you need, Sylvain will buy you. Just ask him, he'll get it for you.

Probably the most physically affectionate towards you out of all the Blue Lion boys, right beside Ashe and Dimitri. If he gets too touchy though, just tell him and he'll stop. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable :(

[thewalkingdead-fan101]

In this hell Daryl Dixon X Reader part 10/??

Hey everyone, It has been a little while since the last update and I am so sorry for the delay, but part 10 has now been posted after a month and a half of writing, deleting and re-writing! 

I hope you guys like this part! Also this part does have smut! 18+ only please! I apologise if the smut isn't written well as this is my first attempt at writing it! I have put the smut sectioning bold.

Warnings- SMUT 18+, Blood, Gore, General walking dead depictions, slow burn, swearing.

Time had felt like it had stopped completely. Every noise, every heart wrenching sob sounded ten times louder. The pungent metallic odour of the blood invaded my nose, stomach churning at the sharpness of it. No one spoke, no one moved after the last gunshot rang.

Carols sobs grew louder, more desperate as time passed. “Don't look. Don't look.” Daryl spoke, pushing them both up, and turning her around, to save her from seeing the bloodshed. She fought Daryl’s hold, pushing him away from her, and ran off.

Beth’s sobs were the only audible sound, other than the cicadas beyond the trees. Beth pushed Jimmy away, moving towards the mass pile of walkers.

“Wait.” Rick tried to stop her, only to have his hands slapped away. She bent down near a small pile of walkers, moving the arm of the top walker off of the one on the bottom. She turned over the bottom walker, kneeling by its head. Her sobs turned into screams as the walker grabbed Beth. Its decaying hands had gripped her shirt and hair, trying to pull her down.

Shane had wrapped his arms around Beth’s mid-section while Glenn grabbed the arms of the walker. “Come on! Pull her away, pull her away!” Jimmy yelled. Rick, Jimmy and Shane successfully pulled Beth away from the walker, Hershel throwing his arms around his daughter and moving her away from it. T-dog started kicking its skull in, Andrea cutting in for the headshot, the sharp side of the scythe now protruding from the front of its skull. Andrea retracted the scythe from the walker and let it drop.

Hershel tried to shield Beth from seeing their turned Friends, Neighbours and Family. He had turned around, moving away from the scene, taking Beth with him, Patricia going to the side to help comfort the young girl, Maggie walking in line with them.

I watched as Shane shook his head, making a beeline to Hershel and his family as soon as they’d walked near the fence. Glenn was walking behind Maggie, I had made my way behind Shane, Rick also tailing him. “We've been out. We've been combing these woods looking for her and she was in there all along? You knew?”

“Leave us alone.” Maggie snapped.

“Hey, Shane, just stop, man.” Glenn tried to stop my brother’s interrogation.

Rick had put his hand on Shanes shoulder, trying to pull him back.

“Get your hands off me.” He pushed Rick off of him, pointing at Hershel. “You knew, and you kept it from us.”

“I didn't know.” Hershel finally stuttered. “Shane! They didn’t know!” I ran in front of him, planting my hands on his chest trying to push him back. Shane gripped my hands with his own and threw them aside, pushing me out of the way.

“That's bullshit. I think y'all knew.” “We didn't know!” Maggie defended her family. “Why was she there?!” He asked. “Your - Otis put those people in the barn. Maybe he found her and put her in there before he was killed.” Hershel explained, stopping at the steps.

“You expect me to believe that? What, what do I - Do I look like an idiot to you?” Shane asked.

“Shane, hey hey hey.” Rick put his hand against his chest and stood between Shane and Hershel. “I don't care what you believe!” Hershel stated, pointing towards Shane. “Everybody just calm down.” Rick had tried to calmly push Shane back, Separating him from Hershel. 

Hershel stood forward and glared at Shane. “Get him off my land!”

“Please. No.” Rick tried to reason.

Shane taken a step forward, to get closer to Hershel.

“Let me tell you something man.” He reached out to grab him.

Rick had tried to separate the two.

“Hey!” Maggie called out as her hand collided with Shanes face, causing him to take a step back, Glenn intervening as soon as she got involved.

“Don't touch him! Haven't you done enough?” She sneered, turning and making her way to the door, Hershel following.

As Hershel stood by the door, he turned to us all. “I mean it… off my land.” He spoke, nodding as he went inside after his girls. Glenn shook his head and entered the house after the Greene’s.

We all stood in silence, Rick staring at Shane, who’d apparently taken to looking elsewhere. 

“What are you doing? Hey, what are you doing?” Rick asked as he walked closer to Shane, who was now staring at me. “Daryl almost died looking for her, Rick. Any one of us could have. I'm gonna tell you right now.. that son of a bitch, he knew.” He looked towards the house and pointed. “He didn't know. He's not like that. He opened his home to us.” Rick gestured. Shane shook his head and started to pace. “Put us all in danger. Man, he kept a barn full of walkers!” he argued, getting more and more worked up. “So you just start an insurrection, hand out guns and massacre his family?” Rick responded. “His family's dead, Rick.” Shane nodded. “Well, he doesn't believe that. He thinks you just murdered them in cold blood.” “His family’s dead, ours ain’t. He put Lori, your boy, my sister and this whole damn camp in danger. So, no man, I don't care what he thinks.” Shane shook his head.

Both men took a step forward and started to get louder as the spoke.

“I was handling it, brother. I was handling it and you just-“ “You had us out in those woods looking for a little girl that every single one of us knew was dead!” Shane yelled over the top of Rick. “That's what you did. Rick, you're just as delusional as that guy.” He snorted. “You are handling it, huh?” He stormed towards me, grabbing my arm. “Let’s go.” He spat, dragging me towards the group.

Shane had pulled me back down to the barn, to the rest of our group. Throwing my arm down after passing through the gate. Andrea had covered Sophia up, kneeling next to the blanket that she had put there. T-dog was pacing through and watching over the dead. Lori had been sitting next to Carl, not having moved since the massacre occurred. She motioned for me to sit with them, so I did. I took my place on the floor next to Carl. “Hey buddy.” I softly called, pushing the hair from his face. “I thought I'd find her.” He whispered to us both. Lori and I both shared a look before she spoke up. “We all did.” She nodded her head at her son.

“I mean me.. that I'd be the one. Like maybe she was hiding somewhere in a cave or a tree.” He paused, looking between Lori and I.  “She'd be safe and I'd find her and bring her back. He did the right thing, shooting her like that. I would've done it too.” He finished Lori sat in silence, just staring at her son. I opened my mouth, my brain blocking any response I could’ve mustered. “Dale?” Lori softly called out, gaining the elder man’s attention.

“Yeah?”

“Could you take Carl up to the house?” She asked, pausing, looking at her son, softly grabbing his head turning him to look at her. “I want you to rest.” She finished.

“Okay.” Carl nodded, getting himself off of the ground.

I watched as Dale and Carl walked toward the house, Rick walking toward the pair with Carls hat, sitting it on his sons head as they passed one another. Lori stood first, reaching down to help me up, which I gladly took. Rick was looking around, as we all stood silently. T-dog was the first to speak. “You want us to start burying?”

“We need a service. Carol would want that.” Andrea looked between us all.

“Yeah, we all want that.” T-dog agreed. The group stayed silent for a moment.

“Let’s, let's dig a grave for Sophia, Annette and Shawn.” Lori starter to speak, looking between myself, her husband, Shane, Andrea, T-dog and Jimmy. “Over by those trees. And we'll need a truck to move the bodies.” She nodded, motioning towards the trees. “I’ll get the keys.” Jimmy sighed, stepping forward, only to be stopped by Shane.

“No no. I got the truck.” Shane stalked away.

“And the others? That's a lot of digging.” Jimmy motioned to the bodies piled around us.

“We bury the ones we love and burn the rest.” Andrea explained. “It’s what we have do.” I nodded as he looked at me.

“Lets get to work.” Lori sighed stepping forward, softly grabbing her husbands arm and leading him away to talk.

I followed Andrea into the barn, placing my left hand over my mouth as the smell got stronger. “Oh god.” Andrea coughed, signalling that it wasn’t only affecting me. “They were feeding them.” I shook my head, looking around, bloody chicken feathers thrown about. “This is messed up.” Andrea sighed, as she turned a corner. “It is.. This whole situation is.” I sighed. “He did the right thing.” Her voice cut me out of my thoughts. “Who?” “Shane.” She spoke, looking over to me.

I scoffed.

“You’re kidding right?” “No. He did the right thing. There was a threat. He took care of it.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t his decision to make.” I shook my head. “He saved us.” “He is the one that put us in danger, what he did was stupid. Not only was it stupid, it was incredibly out of line.” I paused, glaring at her. “He put that family through hell today. He put Carol through hell!” I continued. “He didn’t know that she was in there!” She argued. “I know that! But my brother doesn’t think.” I paused again. “Shane doesn’t think about anything, he doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions, even if they affect us all.” “He is your brother.” “And? Just because he is my brother, I am expected to see things the way he does?” “No-“ “I know Shane a hell of a lot better than you do Andrea. He only wants what is good for him.” “You need to realise that before he hurts you.” I spoke softly, patting her shoulder and walking away in search of anything that could be useful. Andrea had looked down, my words sinking into her brain. I heard something in the smaller stall next to haystack.

Going against my better judgement, I took a step closer to the dusty stall, the wooden panels bloody. To the left of me there was an old barrel with a dusty pritchel, I reached over and took it into my hand. I looked over the railing, to see a walker laying on its back, its arms reaching out and lazily falling again.

The walker had been ripped apart by the other walkers, the only leftovers being its deteriorated ribcage, chest, arms and its head. Being this close to it had awoken its instincts as it slowly started to move its arms more, and the snarling began. I moved over to where the walker had been propped up and leant over the divider, forcing the pritchel into its skull, its arms dropping instantly. “Are you good?” Andrea called out.

“Yeah. There was a walker.” I looked over to her, her brow furrowed. She made her way over, the dirt and straw crunching beneath her shoes. Andrea stopped next to me and looked over the wall and her nose scrunched up. “They’re eating each other now?” “Must be.” I paused, looking up to meet her eye. “Its the survival of the fittest.” I continued. We both looked down at the walker, I reached down and pulled the pritchel out of its skull, dark blood squirting from the cavity it was embedded into. “Lets go back out, take him with us.” She nodded down to him, moving to do another search. “I’ve got him.” I made my way to the small gate and attempted to open it, the gate not moving, I looked over to a pile of crates that had fallen from the rafters above blocking the gate. I walked back over to where I had leant over, standing on the wooden railing and swung my leg over, jumping into the stall. I moved my hands and placed them under the walkers arms, bending down and heaving it up. Despite being only partially a body, head and arms, he was heavier than expected. I pushed the walker over the top of the divider and was met by Andrea with her arms crossed over her chest as it landed in front of her. “What?” “You could’ve dragged it out of there.” She nodded to the gate, her hands falling to her sides with two blankets, “If only it wasn’t blocked.” I sarcastically muttered, climbing back out of the stall. I reached down and grabbed the walkers wrist and dragged it behind me as I exited the barn. “What happened in there?” Shane asked as he slammed the truck door shut. “Found this chewed up walker inside. He was harmless.” I joked with a slight chuckle, dropping its arm as soon as it was on the edge of the body pile. He stormed over and roughly grabbed my arm, making everyone stop and look at us. “This ain’t a damn joke.” He sneered. “You must be plain stupid to be laughing about that, what if it bit you?” “Shane-“ Andrea tried to speak. “Shut up. I’m talking to (Y/n).” “Im fine. It. Was. Barely. Alive.” I spat each word at him. “Shane, she killed it.” Andrea placed her hand on his shoulder to have him shrug it off. “Go get the shovels.” He growled at me as he threw my arm down. “Sure thing.” I stood chest to chest with him, matching his glare. Shane looked away first, moving to the back of the truck. I looked at Andrea whose face had a look of hurt, as she watched Shane, slam the tray door of the truck down and start to move our loved ones into it.

I turned and made my way to the house, my eyes making contact with Lori’s and Rick’s, both of them looking worriedly at me. I slowed down and stopped by them. “What?” I asked softly. “Are you okay?” Rick asked, taking a step forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, I’m cool.” I smiled softly. “What was that down there?” Lori asked, looking past me at Shane. “Wish I knew.” I shrugged, moving to go get the shovels. “I’ll come with you!” Lori called.I met everyone at the agreed burial grounds with the shovels, Shane and Andrea coming over with the truck and the loved ones we were to bury.

I met everyone at the agreed burial grounds with the shovels, Shane and Andrea coming over with the truck and the loved ones we were to bury.

I met everyone at the agreed burial grounds with the shovels, Shane and Andrea coming over with the truck and the loved ones we were to bury. Shane snatched two shovels and gave one to Andrea, the two of them started to dig the one hole. I handed one to Jimmy and started to dig my own hole. “Hey, hey, hey. Give me that there shovel.” I looked up to be met with T-dog’s brown eyes. “Oh no, T. It’s fine.” “No, I’ll do it.” He smiled. “Honestly, T, I can do this.” “Oh I have no doubt in my mind that you can do this.” He paused. “Im not doing this for you. Im doing this for me. You see, I gotta stay in shape.” He flexed joking.

I shook my head and chuckled. “Oh, well. If that’s the case, I’d better let you do this.” I rolled my eyes handing him the shovel. “You won’t regret this.” He smiled, starting to dig. I looked over and saw Lori watching the farm house. I quietly walked over and stood next to her. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” Lori sighed. “Do you think- Could you?” “Go and let them know that we’re burying their loved ones for them?” “Please?” She nodded. “I would, but I know that Maggie likes you.” She softly joked. “I mean, I am a pretty cool person.” I shrugged with a small laugh. “Ill go and see if they’ll come out.” I smiled, making the trek to the house.

As I got closer to the house, the more anxious I began to feel. I stopped at the bottom of the staircase and looked down at my hands, that had began to softly shake.

Closing my eyes I took a deep breath and tried to level out my breathing. I opened my eyes and walked to the door, softly knocking. I waited a few moments and placed my hand onto the door knob, gently pulling the door towards me, and looked up to see Patricia making her way to the door. “Hey.” I softly smiled. “Could I come in?” I asked. She nodded her head and led me to the living room, Maggie sitting with Glenn, Beth next to her father and Patricia standing behind Hershel and Beth. Hershel looked up from Beth and watched me intently. “You welcomed us to your property, and treated us with nothing but kindness, and for that I thank you. I am so sorry about Shane, what he did today was beyond out of line and I am disgusted.”  I paused, looking around the room, my cheeks becoming wet from tears, that I unwillingly shed. “I just wanted to talk to you about a burial. We found a nice little area, where we are digging graves for our loved ones, Annette, Shawn and little Sophia.” “We will be there.” Hershel spoke quickly, standing and vacating the room. Maggie nodded, as did Patricia, Beth sat staring ahead. “Im sorry.” I sighed, turning and walking towards the door to leave.

Once I made it on the porch I sat on the step and wiped my face, the light breeze tickling my cheeks.

I heard the door open and footsteps approaching me, stopping as they reached the steps, taking a seat next to me. “Thank you.” “You have nothing to thank me for.” I chuckled softly, turning to look at Maggie. “For coming, telling us about the burials, and apologising even though it wasn’t your fault.” “I know, I jus-“ “If you apologise for him again, im going to hit you.” She laughed softly, pulling me into a small side hug.

After an hour or so of digging, Lori looked over to the house and signalled that it was now time. We all respectively made our way to our funeral and watched as Andrea, Shane and T-dog put the bodies into the graves, and began to fill them with dirt.

Jimmy took his place by Beth, his arm wrapped gently around her as Maggie stood on the other side of her, next to her father. Hershel had made it clear to Maggie that she was to stand with her own people, not with the group who’d done nothing but ruin their lives. Carol had refused to leave the RV, ignoring everyone, other than a conversation with Lori and Daryl, that hadn’t been all that pleasant. I stood with Daryl, my arm wrapped around his as we stood by the graves in silence, Glenn, Andrea, T-dog and Dale stood in a small group, Rick slightly ahead of his little family, Shane in the back.

Shane had been the first person to retreat, the others slowly falling back as they left the graves. Daryl had looked down at me, and I moved my head to meet his eye, sadly smiling at him, making him nod his head gently, dropping my arm as he walked off. I sighed softly, making my way over to where the others were starting to pile the corpses into the truck. I bent down and grabbed one of the walkers under its arms, starting to drag it to the truck. The dead weight quickly becoming easier to lift. “Come on.” T-dog grunted softly, carrying it by its ankles. “I got it.” I smiled. “Nah, we got it.” He chuckled in response as we loaded it into the back. Andrea and Rick had also started to move the walkers. We all loaded up the truck, and wiped the sweat from our brows in the small breaks between. Andrea and T-dog picked up another corpse and carried it to the truck, heaving it into the back. “A few more trips.” Rick nodded to the left over bodies laying around.

“We got lucky. If that barn had any more, we could've been overrun.” Andrea noted.

“Good thing Shane did what he did when he did.” T-dog grunted.

“You can't tell me this was right.” Dale shook his head dumbfounded at T.

“It wasn't. It'll cost us with Hershel.” Rick was quick to answer.

“He's grieving. He'll come around, see we had no choice. Look, I shot too. This wasn't all Shane.” Andrea tried to argue once more for Shane.

“Look, I got no qualms about it. Walkers in my backyard? Hm-mmm.” T-dog shook his head.

“I’m not saying that we shouldn't have taken care of the problem, but creating a panic?!” Dale asked, looking between us all. “We could’ve handled it differently.” I nodded.

“There's no point arguing about it. It's done. There's nothing we can do about it.” Lori spoke looking between everyone. “Better get moving.” T-dog called out, getting into the drivers seat of the truck, the door closing with a slam. Lori took a step towards Dale and rested her hand on his shoulder briefly before passing.

The truck started and Andrea jumped onto the open tray, the two driving off to dump the bodies for burning. I made my way to the house, making a mental note to talk to Maggie. As I softly pulled the screen door open, I heard a series of clutters and breaking glass, and a heavy thud followed by A concerned Maggie. I swung the door open and ran inside to see Maggie kneeling next to Beth who was lying on the kitchen floor, Glenn standing by. I moved forward and carefully knelt next to Maggie. I reached out and checked Beths arms, my first thoughts being that of this morning when her mother had reanimated for a second time and attacked her. “What are you doing?” Maggie choked out. “Looking for a mark.” I replied, checking her scalp too. “Oh god.” She softly cried.

There wasn’t any mark on her torso, so I looked at Maggie and smiled softly. “Glenn, help me move her please.” I sighed, pushing Maggie away and hoisting her onto my left shoulder, Glenn quickly rushing to throw her arm over his right shoulder. “Her room is this way.” Maggie wiped her eyes and led us upstairs. Maggie pushed the dark door open, and stepped into the room. Watching as we gently put her onto the bed. “Im going to look for Hershel.” Glenn spoke, quickly leaving the room. “Thank you. For helping her.” “Maggie-“ “No, let me say this.” She sighed. “I, I didn’t think to check for a bite or a scratch. I was too lost in the moment.” She shook her head. “Maggie, it’s not your fault. She will be okay.”

We could hear Glenn’s heavy shoes hit the ground as he ran through the house on both floors, coming back to the room panting, shaking his head. “He isn’t here.” He mumbled, moving over to the window by the bed. Maggie instantly knelt on the bed next to her sister and softly moving her hair back. “Sweetie? Can you hear me?”

More footsteps sounded through the house and Lori stood in the door way. Maggie looked up and met Lori’s worried eyes. “Whats wrong with her?” Maggie desperately asked Lori. “She might be in shock. Where's Hershel?” She asked. “We can't find him anywhere.” Glenn shrugged looking at her, she turned on her heel and left. Lori had left to get Rick, and Shane who’d apparently been talking when she ran out to him. “Could you stay with her a minute?” Maggie asked as she looked at Beth. “Of course.” I nodded, a soft smile on my lips.

Maggie nodded, and left the room, Glenn following her as they left to speak with Rick. I looked over to Beth, who’d been in the same position since we’d carried her to her bed. I walked into the bathroom and wet a washcloth, walking back out and sitting onto the edge of the bed, softly dabbing the cloth to her forehead. “Im here for you sweetie.” I whispered as I continued to dab her forehead with the cloth. Beth had lost a little bit of the colour from her face, her neck covered in drops of sweat. I could hear Lori and Rick arguing in the hall about If him leaving was a good idea for the group or not. Maggie walked in and took the cloth from me. “Thank you.” “Anytime, im here.” I smiled as she sat on the seat near the bed. “(Y/n), can you help me for a bit?” Lori poked her head into the room and softly smiled. “Of course. Maggie, i’ll see you later.” I smiled. I met with Lori downstairs, she sat with her head in her hands on the double seater lounge. “Hey..” I softly spoke, Lori’s attention quickly landing to me. “Hey.” She nodded standing up. “What’s happening?” “Hershel has lost it. He just left.” She shook her head. “Can you blame him?” Lori opened her mouth and went to argue before I cut her off. “Don’t get me wrong Lori. He shouldn’t have left, he should’ve stayed with his family, but I can’t blame him. He watched our people, OUR people gun his family down. Albeit they weren’t his family anymore.” “They are going after him. To some bar in town.” “Who is?” “Rick and Glenn.” “And you’re worried..” “I am. The last time that my husband went on a rescue mission it was for nothing and we lost our people.” “It’s natural Lori, but you and I both know for a fact that Rick will come home to you. He knows that it’s you, Carl and the baby now. He wouldn’t do this if he didn’t think he would come back.”

Lori sighed, nodding her head. Rick, Glenn and Maggie all made their way down stairs.

Lori stood and glanced over to her husband who had opened his arms for her, which she accepted and strode over to his embrace.

I left the couples as they said goodbye to their partners.

I found myself searching the camp for Carol. Rick and Glenn had already left, and Lori was with her son. Daryl hadn’t come back from his walk and Andrea was still disposing of walkers with T. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement near the barn. I slowly walked closer only to see Shane kneeling in front of Carol by the water pump. I stopped under the shade of the tree and leant against the rough bark. I continued to watch from afar as he dipped his hands into the small water dish that was connected to the pump, before washing her arms down with said water. Shane continued to wash her for a couple of minutes before standing, reaching out to her and helping her stand. Carol walked away and headed for the hill. Taking a breath I walked down to where Shane stood, watching Carol retreat. Shanes hand instinctively reached for his gun that he kept tucked into the back of his pants as he turned, dropping his demeanour after realising there was no threat. “Is Carol okay?” I asked, stopping a metre away from him. Shane nodded in response, taking a step forward, sighing when he noticed my step back. “I apologised to her.” “She isn’t the only one who deserves an apology.” “What are you talking about?” He shook his head. “Hershel, his family.” “Oh come on, not you too.” He scoffed. “No, Shane-“ “You know what, everyone thinks that I’m some coldhearted son of a bitch.” “Shane-“ “No, just listen.” He cut me off, his hand in the air. “I did what I had to do to protect this group, to protect our family, to protect you. I was trying to keep everyone safe, while Rick was out there playing catch the walker with Hershel.” He defended himself. “I had no idea that little girl was in there. If I did-“ he paused, shaking his head. “I know that you think you did the right thing, and im sure that to you it was the right thing. But you need to think about Hershel and what affect that this has had on him.” “Yeah, how it affects him.” He scoffed. “He thought he was going to get his wife back, he thought that he was going to get his step-son back. And it was ripped away from him.” “He was delusional, it wasn’t ever gonna happen.” “He had hope-“ “And look where that got him!” He yelled, gesturing to the house. “Shane, what you did-“ “I did what needed to be done to ensure the safety of the group. I will NOT apologise for that.” He shook his head, leaving hastily.

Kicking the dirt beneath my shoes, I lean my head back and covering my eyes with my hands. I sighed and began to walk back to the house. “(Y/n)!” I looked over to see Lori making her way towards me. “Lori, what’s up?” “Can you talk to Daryl?” “What about?” “Just go talk to him.” “I would, but I-“ “He is at the old cottage near the windmill.” “The run down one?” “Yeah. I just spoke to him. I think he needs you.” She spoke, quickly evading my questions and running into the house. I shook my head and grabbed the water bottle from my tent, making my way out to the old cottage. The walk took all but ten minutes, until the ruins of the old stone cottage came into view. Daryl was sitting against the wall of the cottage, sharpening points onto sticks. He looked up at the ground crunched under my steps, his gaze following me as I got closer. “Hey.” I smiled softly, extending my arm with the water bottle toward him. He reached out and took the bottle, twisting the top off and bringing it to his lips, some water leaking from the bottle and running down his chin. My heart started to beat the slightest bit faster, watching as the water drips from his chin down to his chest through the open V-neck of his shirt. I didn’t notice when Daryl removed the bottle from his lips. “Are ya’ okay?” “Hmm?” I asked looking up to meet his gaze. “Are ya’ okay?” He asked again. My cheeks became warm with embarrassment as he looked me over, handing the bottle back to me. “No, you keep it with you.” I smiled. “What are ya’ doing ‘ere?” He asked. “Lori said you needed me.” “That bitch.” He shook his head. “What? What happened?” “She wants me to go lookin’ for her bitch, another rescue mission. I told her no.” “What rescue mission?” “Somethin’ ‘bout goin’ into town. Bringing back Hershel and Rick.” I scoffed shaking my head. “You’re joking right?” I asked. “Bitch had the nerve to call me selfish.” My blood began to boil as soon as those words left his mouth. “Selfish?” I asked. “Selfish?” I asked again, absolutely dumbfounded by what Lori done.

Shaking my head I stormed off, Daryl quickly catching up, stopping infant of me. “What do ya’ think ya’ doing?” “I need to have a few words with Lori.” I sneered.  I go to leave, only for Daryl to pull my back into his chest, his breath softly hitting the nape of my neck. “Don’t waste ya’ breath on her.” “No Daryl, this isn’t okay!” I shook his hold from me, turning to look at him. “Who does she think she is? Acting like you’re disposable?” I scoff. He stayed quiet, watching my every move as I paced in front of him.

“I mean, I get it, she is worried about Rick. But she doesn’t need to drag you into this!” “She says you’re selfish, you are anything but selfish, you went out and searched for Sophia everyday, even when others couldn’t! And she thinks sending you after-“ -18+ Below- Daryl cut me off by pressing his lips roughly against mine, his hands sneaking their way into my hair. My hands gently reached up and rested onto his cheeks. Daryl slowly began to walk with me, my back pressing against the rough stone wall of the cottage. My back arched as he ran his hands down my sides, reaching behind to grab my ass, grinding his hips into mine. He let out a low moan against my lips, pulling away and grabbing the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head and tossing it to the ground by our side.

My hands found the front of his vest and I began to unbutton it hastily as Daryl pressed his lips against my collar bone. I let out a soft moan as his lips sucked on my neck, Daryl pulling back, shedding himself of his vest, his hands moving to my back, unclasping my bra, letting it fall down my arms and to the ground. I leant into Daryls embrace as our lips once again connected, his bare chest against mine as his left hand reaches up and grabs my breast, his thumb rubbing over my sensitive nipple.

I whined softly as he moved his hands down to my hipbone, unbuttoning my jeans, sliding his right hadn’t into my underwear, his left on my waist holding me steady. “Look at ya’. Already a mess.” He smirked as his fingers teased my wet folds, inserting two fingers. I leant my head back and rested it against the wall as he slowly started to draw circles around my clit, each touch of his fingers sending a rush of heat to my core. I could feel Daryl’s hard length against my inner thigh, reaching down I move my hand into his jeans, softly stroking him. Daryl let out a moan at my touch, his lips moved down to my chest, softly sucking on the skin.

“I can’t wait, need ya’.” Daryl muttered against my skin.

I could feel Daryl move his hand out of my pants, quickly tugging at the hem, pulling my jeans off of my hips, watching them pool to the ground, along with my underwear. I gently removed my hand from him as he moved away slightly, pushing his own jeans down. His hands landed on my hips as he leant down and hooked my thighs over his waist, his arm over my head leaning against the wall. He moved his hand between my legs, rubbing his glistening head against my folds, causing my spine to shiver. His teeth brushed over my jaw and I whined as I felt my core clench around nothing as he teased me. “Are ya’ ready?” He asked against my jaw. I could only nod in response. Daryl lined himself up with my entrance and slowly pushed in, I dug my nails into his biceps as he slid further into me, letting out a low moan as I stretched around him. My back arched, pushing my chest further into his, consumed with the feeling of his cock inside of me. His cock dragged against my walls in slow strokes, leaving me feeling empty before filling me once more. My pussy clenching around him as he moved his hips into mine.

The sound of skin meeting skin, the grunts and moans from Daryl as he thrusted, sending waves of pleasure to my core.

“Daryl-“ I moaned, locking my heels together behind his back, pulling him closer with each thrust. “Ya’ feel so good, Always so tight.” He grunts, kissing behind my ear. The pressure in my stomach building more and more with every movement of my hips meeting his thrusts. Daryl started to pick up his pace, his hips now snapping up to meet mine as he snaked his hand down to my pussy, his thumb flicking against my bundle of nerves, eliciting a shriek from my lips. He smirked as he looked at me through his lashes, each hard thrust knocking the air out of my lungs. He pounds into me harder, his mouth attacking mine, his tongue entering my mouth as we both fight for dominance, a battle that is quickly won by him. The force of his thrusts pushing me further into the wall, surely leaving marks on my skin. The tension in my core was at boiling point, I closed my eyes as black dots began to cloud my vision, gasping as my chest heavily rose. Daryl groans as he looked down, watching as the base of his cock disappeared within my mound as he moved against me, his cock hitting the right spot. “Oh god..” I moaned, resting my head against his shoulder, I could feel his smirk as he hit the same spot repeatedly. “I got ya’ baby.” He panted, my orgasm close to erupting. He angled his hips slightly as he pulled out, thrusting hard into me, the coil snapping within as I pulled him closer by the neck, crashing my lips against his, moaning into his mouth. Daryl kept pushing further into me as I rode out my orgasm, gushing around him as he chased his own release. I look up at him through my lashes, pushing my hips to meet his own, my bottom lip between my teeth. “Ya’ perfect.” He muttered, delivering some harsh thrusts into me. His thrusts became sloppy as he bottomed out, resting his head against my shoulder, moaning as his orgasm hits, his cum coating my walls. His cock now soft, still buried in me, we stay in the same position, trying to catch out breath, he pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “I love you.” “I love ya’ too.” He mumbled, gently placing me down, his cock slipping out of me. We cleaned ourselves up and re-dressed. -End of 18+- The sun was descending over the paddock, illuminating the windmill. I reached down and grabbed Daryls hand, softly pulling him to follow me. “What?” “Lets go, get some dinner.” I smiled. Daryl let go of my hand and stalked back to the cottage, picking up his crossbow, putting it over his shoulder he walked back to me and took my hand, leading the way back to camp.

Series Masterlist Next part

[jynzandtonic]

So I’m the anon who was like “hmm I wonder what is under those button down shirts and suits that Maurizio wears” (spurred on bc of the Annette trailer that I still haven’t recovered from) and now we see Maurizio in a white tshirt?!! Gaah did you see his arms? Uuuugh. Goddamit Maurizio! I mean obviously I KNOW AD is a wall of muscle in general but to know all that is peeking through Maurizio’s goddamn fancy suits and all uuuugh. I just want to strip him. Sir, you look hot and uncomfortable and restricted wearing proper clothes for these rambunctious on the fly Italian sports, Sir you would feel much more comfortable naked. Please Sir.

(Ok also, so that I don’t spam you so much in separate asks, but on the topic of Annette, I don’t think I can recover from seeing McHenry on that motorcycle, in smoking slippers and shorts, flying through the night, SINGING, and cradling her hand to his chest protectively. Imagine that wall of warmth from his back pressed against you. Imagine resting your head against his wide shoulders, speeding through night, hearts racing. Swoon.)

WALL OF WARMTH. I AM DYING AT THIS PARTICULAR PHRASE. Anon, why aren’t you writing this shit? Why aren’t I reading your fics? I WANT. I HAVE NEEDS. 

Oh my god, that trailer has effectively ruined my life. All of the LOOKS he is serving. The tenderness with Ann. The CREEPY CRIME STUFF?! HOLDING THE FUCKING BABY IN ONE ARM? HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE THIS?!

Personally I can’t get this image out of my head.

And ya know, even though we’ve been so well-fed with the Annette trailer, I am STILL smitten with the Gucci BTS photos. There are so many shots where the buttons on his dress shirts are just straiiiining to hold it all in and I’m like... no thoughts head empty only Mauri. 

That’s all. 

Stay thirsty, my lovely friend.

[fellhellion]

Thoughts on the blue lions please 🥺

of course!!!! i love them sm aa (tho pls keep in mind ive only Just got to the big fancy ball)

Dimitri: Very interesting! Recent game developments have me very curious as to where his character is going. There’s a few conflicting support conversations that have VERY interesting implications for what he buries down deep inside himself that i’m really hoping will be explored fully. Specifcally him saying he couldn’t trust Byleth unless he knew they didn’t enjoy killing but then Felix’s first support being acknowledgement that he enjoyed battle. There’s a lot of trauma and rage buried in this spagetti hair blond and im really nervous to see what the tipping point for him is. dude should be in fucking therapy, not in the militarised church fjdksfhjkdlshfkj 

Dedue: god i have so many feelings about this man. the internalised self hatred is incredibly fucking tragic and it’s a relief beyond words to see characters liek Sylvain expressly push against it. Dedue is also an interesting character to me because he holds his tongue specifcally on topics w certain characters. You’d never guess from his first support w Felix that he’s been thinking and silently agreeing with what Sylvain deduced about the unlikeliness of Duscar taking arms up against the king. And so much of that works incredibly well w what we learn of the discrimination he’s faced; he doesn’t want to endanger Dimitri by inviting too much scrutiny and thus the academy is really the first time he’s had this chance to work through even an iota of what he’s going through, and w people who want to support him.  also the DEEPLY underrated hilarity of his supports w Byleth being the equivalent of two silent protagonists holding a friendship. 

Annette: She’s so sweet!! I love the visual of tiny women and massive axes which is always great. She’s a wonderful foil when interacting with the more serious members of the cast and I just enjoy how cheerful she is! I haven’t progressed her Support w Byleth enough to get more info on the story with her father but i am Curious

Ashe: sweet boi....SWEET boi i love him so much. I wish the conflict with his father got expanded upon tho dear god. Like, ur gonna tell me his dad was executed by a church sanctioned and politcally motivated battle and theres NO internal conflict that arises???? even just from the meta of Lonato being able to attack his son within that battle?? bro....i love how he plays off other characters but i genuinely feel, unless there’s more story coming up, it was such a missed opportunity for complex character development

Mercedes: I really love her! I really like that she’s this mini subversion of the passive, sweet and oblivious healer trope. Mercedes IS very kind but she’s also perhaps the most perceptive character of the house with very keen insight into how other people operate. She instantly recognises that Sylvain flirting is usually a sign that he doesn’t think he needs to connect w or take you seriously, she takes the time to ask Dedue about his culture and history specifcally because she’s intimately aware of being the legacy of a decimated family. I just like her a whole lot!

Slyvain: pls don’t look at me once again liking pretty boys with depth oh my god im embaressed already I like him! He’s very funny and a nice, lighthearted addition to the cast that contrasts very well with more serious characters like Felix and Dedue. I’m very curious to see if his understandable cynacism towards genuinely connecting w people on a romantic level gets explored for what it is. It’s an interesting bit of selfishness to his character but I really want to see the generalisations of his mindset unpacked, even if the root cause of them is understandable 

Felix: An asshole but a hilarious and interesting one. All jokes aside, his support with Demitri and Dedue in particular shine an especially good and interesting light on his internal conflict regarding strength/chivalry and how it relates so deeply to his past. It’s interesting to see where his mindset falters, what boundaries it has. Strength is valued, but not to the extent where he accepts or justifies the murder of innocents. Felix mocks the idea of chivalry but it’s in key part to what he thinks is worth dying for (insert me dying about what i got spoiled on lmao); he hates that his father saw Glenn’s death as of value simply because it was in service to idealism. I really like him a lot, his various supports really Really help flesh out his character so well. 

Ingrid: my GIRLLLLLL i wish you had more sapphic content oh my god why does this game hate me personally. Overall I like her! I just haven’t hit any content w her that’s grabbed me by the horns so to speak. I’m waiting to see if the conflict being teased w duty versus dreams w her comes to fruition because goddamn i really want ingrid to being genuinely torn on it!

[wontlastimokwiththat]

Witches Mates- Chapter 4

Chapter 4 of Witches Mates....

Warnings: Slight language, 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

After making the ring for Luke that would help him control his shifting, I went back to the house. The dogs had decided to explore the city so it was just me and Snow. When we got there, Snow jumped off my shoulder, telling me she wanted to stay outside. I walked in the front door and could hear the arguing.

"What do you have against her? She's been nothing but kind and understanding since we told her," Ashton said.

"She's a human, Ashton. She has no place in our world or our lives," Luke told him.

"She's our mate! Me, you, Michael, and Calum, we share her! She belongs with us, human or not!" Ashton yelled as I saw Calum walk down the stairs with my grimoire in his hands. I was thankful he couldn't see me where I was standing. Calum walked into the living room and I lost sight of him.

"She's not," Calum stated.

"What?" Luke asked. I moved a bit so I could see Calum as he held up my grimoire.

"I found it in her room. It's the real thing, guys," Calum told them.

"Why didn't she tell us?" Michael quizzed. I sighed and spoke, walking into the room.

"Maybe because if a witch has four mates, nothing good ever comes of it," I suggested, holding out my hand and willing the book into it. "This is off limits."

"I've never seen any of those spells," Calum stated.

"They're mine," I told him. "I've been creating spells since I was eleven."

"That's not possible," Ashton said.

"It is when you're a Firelight," I heard a voice say. I turned to see my mom walking in from the kitchen with Snow on her heels. "Mystia's gifted, always has been."

"Hi, Mom," I smiled.

"Hi, sweetheart," she greeted, hugging me tightly.

"How was Paris?" I asked.

"Boring compared to everything that's happened here. I saw Lejend and Shyla in the city, they told me everything," she told me. Lejend and Shyla A.K.A Damien and Annette.

"Uh oh," Snow said.

"Oh, hush. It's not like you weren't going to," I hissed down at her.

"Um, you're arguing with a cat," Michael stated.

"No, I'm arguing with my smart ass familiar," I told him as Mom took the grimoire from my hands.

"This is beautiful. Where'd it come from?" she asked.

"N-" Snow cut me off.

"Jonathan. He left it in her room," Snow told her.

"Another word from you and I'm sending you to London with Liam, " I said.

"Why can't we hear her?" Calum asked.

"I'm not sure she won't be rude," I told him, glaring at Snow. "Do you swear not to be rude?" I asked her. Snow raised her left paw. "Nice try, smart ass. Other paw." She squinted her eyes as she raised her right paw. "Okay. I'm trusting you." She said nothing as she trotted over to Luke, jumped in his lap, and laid down.

"Why is it touching me?" Luke asked, holding his hands up. My mom looked away from the book and at Snow sitting in Luke's lap.

"Oh, holy shit," Mom mumbled. "She doesn't even let me pet her."

"He's the warmest," Snow said without lifting her head.

"Oh, my God. It actually talks," Michael said. "I thought J was crazy."

"Joker and Harleen talk too," I told him. "And she's twenty-one, not seven."

"It's rude to tell a lady's age," Snow told me.

"You're not a lady," Joker said, walking in with Harleen at his side and Damien and Annette behind them.

"Mutt," Snow mumbled.

"That's offensive," Luke said, glaring at Snow.

"She was talking to Joker," I told him.

"Wait, do they know?" Annette asked me.

"Calum found my grimoire," I sighed. "Now, Snow has made Luke her bed and Michael no longer thinks I'm crazy because Snow actually talks."

"Well, okay," Damien nodded.

"You always give the best descriptions of situations," Harleen said to me and I knew by the look on the boys face that they heard her.

"Thank you, Harleen," I smiled, petting her head. "Why did Damien and Annette get nice familiars?"

"You're familiar reflects you. Both you and Snow are sarcastic, smart ass, assholes," Damien told me. I glared at him.

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep," Snow growled, jumping to her feet.

"You're three pounds of fur, good luck with that," Joker said.

"Enough," I said, knowing things would get heated if they weren't brought to an end quickly. Snow laid back down in Luke's lap and Joker lowered his head.

"Oh, can I see it?" Annette asked my mom, looking at the grimoire. Mom nodded and handed it to her. Annette flipped through it, stopping on a certain page. "I remember when you made this spell. It was when you broke your hand and couldn't write. We were, like, twelve."

"The enchanted pen?" I asked. She nodded.

"I use that one on a daily," Damien said, looking over Annette's shoulder as she started flipping the pages.

"Oh, Luke, I have you something," I said before walking over to Ashton and sitting in his lap. He was sitting in the recliner beside the couch. I pulled the simple black band from my pocket and handed it to Luke. He took it and looked over it.

"What is this for?" he asked.

"Ashton told me about your struggle with controlling your wolf side. The ring prevents the wearer from shifting. As long as you wear it, you won't turn," I told him. "You can wear it as a ring or put it on a chain, it doesn't matter."

"How does it work?"

"It's a spell from one of my grandmother's grimoires," I said as he slid the ring onto his right ring finger.

"Is that why you went to the shop?" Ashton asked, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Yeah," I nodded, leaning back against his chest. "I didn't have everything I needed here. Which reminds me, I need to restock."

"What do you need?" Damien asked.

"Um, sage, mint, and jasmine," I told her. Mom, Damien, and Annette raised their eyebrows and Snow lifted her head when I mentioned jasmine. "Not for those reasons."

"Sure," Annette nodded.

"What?" Michael asked.

"Nothing," I shook my head. "Mom, are you going to the compound?"

"Yeah, I have to get some manzanilla before I leave for London," she said.

"Why?" Damien asked.

"I'm helping to break a curse," she told him.

"No one's used curses in years," Annette mumbled.

"What?" Calum asked. "Two months ago-" Mom cut him off.

"It's an old family that was cursed many years ago that needs to be broken," Mom said. I raised my eyebrows at Calum, who was looking skeptically at my mom. "Anyways, I should be going. It was nice meeting all of you. Mystia-"

"I know, I know. The shop, the coven, I got it," I nodded. She frowned slightly before nodding and walking out.

"J, that was rude," Damien said.

"Something tells me J knows something we don't," Annette muttered.

"J, is there?" Damien asked.

"Come with me," I told them, standing up. "Give us a minute." The boys nodded and Damien, Annette, and I walked up to the study. I closed the door behind us and turned to look at them. The room was spelled so as soon as the door closed it was sound proof.

"Mystia, what's going on?" Annette quizzed.

"Look, I learned something about the Witches Council today and it seriously set off bad vibes," I explained.

"What did you learn?" Damien asked.

"The wolves in the wolf packs that are aligned with the Witches Council are forced to trigger their werewolf curse when they're thirteen or they're killed," I told them.

"What are you talking about?" Annette asked. "Those wolves voluntarily turn."

"No, Ashton told me earlier-" Damien cut me off.

"So, we just believe everything the vampire says?" he asked.

"That's not what she's saying. She's saying we need to figure it out," Annette told him.

"Exactly. Annette, take Michael and Calum to talk to the voodoo witch on Bourbon Street. Damien, take Luke and go talk to the wolf pack on Main."

"And you?" Damien asked.

"I'm gonna see if Ashton can tell me anything else," I told them.

"Mhm hm," Annette smirked.

[vickers-n-lickers]

Moonlit pt. 3

Trigger Warning: Unaliving thoughts, violence, zombies))

Six rounds left.

He thought about doing it right then and there.

Her first. Then him.

Jill warned him they always come back unless they get a bullet in the head.

Maybe she'd try to eat him if she came back.

I'd… deserve it.

Well, he thought he did.

Her ghost disagreed with the notion from the back of his mind.

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Hey Joan, it's Dad. It's about four in the afternoon. I, uh, I accidentally picked up Jenna from the Y. Sorry, I thought it was my night. You can have Brad call off the search. I bet you both have been worried sick. She's up here in Stoneville with me. She and the dog are settled in for the night, I'll drop her off at school first thing in the morning and him at the house. I'm really sorry, Joan. Hey, do give me a call back so I make sure you got this message, okay? Love you, Scooter. Bye."

"Do you remember when you fell in love with me?" Brad asked, a grin crossing his lips when nails drug low along his stomach.

Joan made a thoughtful sound as she lifted her head. Messy strands of brunette were carefully tucked behind an ear. "That's a secret." She giggled when he squinted and scowled suddenly at her.

"Tell me."

Long fingers swept back wild strands. "Nope. Never. Don't you dare do puppy dog eyes. Bradley! That is blackmail. That is a crime, sir!"

Holding in a laugh, he poked out his lower lip to match the mournful lift in his brow. He smiled when she laughed.

"Ugh! You monster. Fine…" Rolling off of him, she nestled into the crook of his arm. "During the last bad blizzard."

Brad blinked, rolling on his side to face her. "That was three years before we started dating."

The woman just shrugged, tracing the line of his collarbone in the dark. "So?"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"You had so many female admirers, I knew I couldn't compete."

Brad's brows immediately quirked in confusion. "Who?"

"The ladies that work in the records office."

His jaw dropped in horror. "They're in their sixties and I don't appreciate those catcalls every time Wesker sends me down there."

Joan wrinkled her nose, fighting back a snicker. "I bet they all have your sweet recruitment poster on their bedroom ceilings."

"Oh my God, Joan! Why would you put that in my head?" He pulled away when she started cackling.

"I bet they call the number late night hoping you'll answer. 'Is there an oral exam, Brad?'," She squealed with laughter when wagging fingers went for her hips.

"C'mon. Real reason." His smile was so warm and free in the slant of light peeking through the blinds.

It always melted the frost off her spirit. A long sigh escaped, her hand smoothed over his as it ran up her cheek. "The real reason? Because I come with baggage."

He scoffed. "We all do."

She shook her head. "Jack always told me no man would want me with Jenna being on the spectrum and me being a single mother. I…" Her shoulders lifted and dropped. "Part of me believed him, I guess."

Brad was quiet for the longest time. The clock on the nightstand read twelve in glowing red. Unmoving, outside of breath and blinking, he spoke barely above a whisper. "That is the cruelest shit I've ever heard in my life. There's nothing wrong with Jenna. She's a little girl. Nobody can control that. You didn't expect to be Mom and Dad… What the fuck is wrong with him?"

Joan bit her bottom lip. "I don't know. That's Jack. He thinks he has an answer for everything. 'Everyone leaves, Joan. Remember your mother…'"

Brad's stare turned hard as he propped himself up with an elbow. "I'm not fuckin' going anywhere." Short nails ran over where moonlight met her shoulder. "Hey… You know when I fell in love with you?" His lips turned up when she shook her head again. "It was when you said 'I'm Joan'." When her form rose and fell harshly from breath, his arms looped and pulled her fast to him. Kissing away tears, his nose pressed along the side of hers. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Joan, it's Dad again. It's about nine o'clock. I really hope you have a good reason for not calling me back. The news is a mess so I recon you're still stuck in traffic trying to get home. Before I forget, your brother and his wife are going to be here tomorrow morning so how about you two just come on up for the rest of the week and weekend? Your brother's been jabberin' my ear off about meeting Brad anyway. They can talk shop about helicopters and we'll go fishin'. Love ya, Scooter. Byeeeee!"

The office stunk sterile. Jenna's dirty shoes swung back and forth on the exam table as she waited, expressive gray eyes fixed on the man sitting next to her on a chair. She reached out suddenly, poking at the emblem stitched in blue with white stars on his shoulder. She smiled brightly when he feigned a scowl.

"Alright then, Miss Piper…" Annette's brows lifted as she closed the door behind her. "And who are you?"

Brad was on his feet in a second, offering a hand. "Brad Vickers, Joan is at soundcheck. So, I…" His brows lifted when the blonde woman stepped around him and took a seat at the desk next to the exam table. "…Brought her for shots."

Annette smiled fondly to the girl, fingers looping in the air as she spoke in total silence to the girl.

Jenna's hands suddenly were animated, signing away a response to her doctor.

Brad sat down quietly, watching the two.

Birkin nodded, her stare turning back to the man. "Do you sign at all, Mister Vickers?"

"Still learnin'… What did she say?"

A nail scratched along one of her brows as she began to take down some notes. "She said you're her dad and you fly airplanes."

Soft brown eyes lifted up to the little one on the table. A smile drew itself across his mouth as she fiddled with the buttons on her coat.

A clean needle appeared when the cap was removed, quickly jabbed into a vial of clear liquid. The Umbrella symbol stenciled in red the only color to show.

Brows lifting, the man offered a hand to the young girl. Fingers gently gripping, his stare met her spooked one as Annette prepared.

"Just gonna be a little pinch, sweetie…"

He frowned when Jenna winced one eye totally shut.

"One more and we'll call it a day. Good girl. You're so brave," Annette cooed, a Barbie sticker soon in Jenna's hands. Her stare turned to Brad. "Tell her mother she's due for one last booster in six weeks and I'll get the referral she needs in the mail tomorrow."

Brad nodded, pulling his coat back on. "I'll let her know."

They were almost out of the exam room when Annette called out. "Have you gotten your flu shot yet this year, Mister Vickers?"

Brad's eyes went wide.

Back in the room.

Jenna looked from her new sticker still on its sheet up to the man sitting on the exam table.

Brad just pursed his lips, letting his air out when Annette returned with the vaccine.

"Alright, your turn."

Jenna offered her tiny hand to hold onto.

Annette couldn't hide her chuckle at the pair.

Jenna was still smiling at her two bright pink stickers when they arrived back home.

"You've reached the Vickers! Please leave a message at the beep."

Beep!

"Scooter, it's Dad. It's about six-forty in the mornin'. Your brother just got in. I am assuming you and Brad went home and just crashed out. Please call me back, I don't think Jenna needs to go back to school today. The girls are here. How about I just call the school at eight and she play hooky so she can see her cousins? I heard helicopters flying earlier. What in the world happened last night? Call me, girl. Bye!"

The phone clicked back on the receiver as Jack turned away. "I swear that girl gives me more gray hair every day. Lookin' for the coffee, Son?"

Henry shook his head as he opened another cabinet. "Creamer?"

"It's in the pantry." Fingers running over thinning hair, Jack forced a smile as his daughter-in-law stepped around the corner. "Hey stranger, been a while." His arms opened as the curly haired blonde wrapped hers around him. "Mmmm! I missed you two. How's Seattle?"

"Cold, wet… I love it up there." Michelle replied, smiling as two little bodies pushed their way between her and their grandpa. "Girls, take your bags upstairs before harassing your grandpa." Their whines only made her smile wider. "We're going fishing later, hurry up!"

"Yeah, girls… Jenna is up there so keep it down, okay?" Jack let out a sigh as the two were out of sight. "It ain't like Joan to not answer me. Somethings off."

"Who knows, Dad. Scooter isn't the sharpest tool in the shed all the time," Henry said with a shrug, stirring dried creamer into his coffee.

"They might have realized they were baby free for a night and decided to start making the next one," Michelle replied, a wry grin on her face as her brows popped.

Henry feigned a gag. "Gross."

Jack let out a sigh. "For once in my life, I hope that's the case. Maybe I'll have a grandson next year and we'll all have a laugh at this."

Both smiled at the man seated at the kitchen table.

A bright flash suddenly filled all of the windows, and a minute later the entire house violently shook.

Henry slammed the car door behind him, ball cap fished from the back of his belt and slung low over his eyes as he strode in the direction of the red tinted sky. "Stay in the car, Dad. I got this."

"You sure?"

"It's fine. Stay in the car. I'll find out what's going on." So much screaming, so many people bumping into him as they fled down the narrow paths between cars. It was total chaos.

What the fuck is going on?

He managed to make his way toward the crowd gathered at the roadblocks. He hung back, eyes veering over the many armed forms behind the barriers.

"My husband is still in the city! When will we be let in?"

"I have to get home!"

"What was that explosion? Was that a missile?"

Ducking through the crowd, he made his way toward the end of the barrier. Green eyes clicked their stare from one body to another. From the guy smoking, to another checking his gear, his eyes narrowed as he frowned.

He was fastening his seatbelt as soon as the door to the car was shut. "Drive, Dad. We gotta go."

"What about Joan?"

"Dad, just drive. Let's get out of here before we're pinned in. You're clear still." He took a look over his shoulder to the rear window.

"What's going on, Henry?"

"Just get the car turned around! C'mon, Dad." He let out a sigh as the wheel cranked and the car was thrown into drive. "You're right, something is really wrong."

"What? What are you talkin' about?"

"None of those guys have flags on their shoulders. No unit patches. Nothin'. No name tape, no Army over their hearts. One guy had a grenade launcher out and was smoking."

"What does that mean, Henry?"

The pilot just shook his head. "I don't know. They're not Army though, Dad. They want us to think they are though..."

Jack looked frantic behind the wheel. "Maybe we should check the other roads going in? We have to be able to get in somewhere."

Henry shook his head. "No, no. The reporter back there said the city had been hit with a missiles."

"What? Oh my God…"

The raven haired man choked back tears, blinking them away as the car swerved. "Let me drive, Dad."

"He hasn't been home much since the riots began," Joan said quietly. Wrapped up in a housecoat, she coughed harshly into her elbow. "I uh… I don't know what to tell you, Jill. We don't talk anymore. He's hellbent on keeping his job. I don't think he understands how close I am to leaving him."

"I'm sorry things are rough," Jill replied, the coffee in her cup cold when she took a sip.

"If Forest where here…." The woman bit her lower lip, shaking her head. "God, ever since they were killed it's like he died with them. You know? He's not soft and gentle anymore. He's just… he's just dead but walking around."

Jill grimaced at the thought. "I don't really need to talk to Brad. I wanted to ask you about when you worked for Umbrella. What did you do for them?"

"I uh… I was told I was guarding these massive coolers full of vaccines that required being at a low temperature at all times. Then, well before he died, Albert sent me a disc with instructions to look at it if anything happened to him." She wiped at her eyes, red and swollen. "Those monsters you told us about? I was guarding something like them. He had manifests and notes that said exactly what was in the coolers. There were pictures…" Her thumbs brushed over the side of her mug.

Jill's eyes were enormous.

Her voice was flat, emptied out and hollow. "Did you know most of those things used to be human? They were humans and I helped them take those poor people… Jesus Christ…" She couldn't help but weep, a dish towel used to wipe it all away.

"Joan do you still have the disc?"

The woman nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah, yeah you can have it."

"It's going to be fine. The military is outside of the city. Help is here, Joan."

"That's bullshit and you know it! We're locked down. There's a curfew, there are more reports of people being attacked. I heard it on the radio!"

"Just drunks, Joan."

"No Brad! We both know that's not what's happening. We should have left town already."

Anger finally beat down the last wall he had, and it would be taken out on her. "If you want to leave, go ahead! I'm not going. My life is here. I might be able to sleep at home for once instead of at my fuckin' desk! I'm tired of this bullshit, Joan!"

"It's all bullshit, huh? Our friends are dead, Brad! They're all dead! That's not bullshit," her voice wavered. "I can't believe you sided with the prick who not only canned me, but is trying to lie about how all of your friends died!"

"It's your own fucking fault you got canned! If you hadn't been such a fuckin' idiot you'd still have a decent job!"

Her eyes were enormous at that, shoulders then squared… then predatory. A panther in the brush, she looked ready to rip him apart.

He looked ready to make a mistake as soon as she did.

The moment passed.

Joan took what dignity she still had and left.

A hand went to the pocket on his vest.

The ring went back on Joan's hand.

He couldn't bear the idea of another hand having it.

He locked the doors and made his way out the back. The alley was empty.

Uptown was the next stop. He was getting the fuck out of town by the end of the night.

She hadn't asked him to be brave.

She had asked him to survive.

[lokifantasies]

A Name (Loki/Daughter)

Loki has a successful first afternoon with his newborn daughter, but she still needs a name.

His– the baby girl that Thor had brought to Loki. His – the only thing he knew to call her. His little girl – the daughter he never knew he wanted but has quickly come to love more than anything. The baby that was created and born from lust but will now and forever be loved more than the God of Mischief ever thought possible.

Wanting to be able to let her lie on her back, Loki uses his magic to create a pink and gold nursery in the spare bedroom in his two-bed, two-bath apartment. It's a nursery fit for a princess – the bassinet a light pink with gold accents – a soft white mattress made of memory foam. Nervously, Loki slowly places the sleeping newborn in the bed – stroking her cheek as he places her on her back. A couple of small noises escape the little girl's lips, but she quickly finds a comfortable position and her little snores resume. Loki looks down at her – watching her drift off into sweet dreams – a grin appearing on his face. He goes to sit in the rocking chair across from the bassinet – staring at his sleeping daughter and thinking.

She needs a name, Loki tells himself – his mind going through every name he can think of – none of them good or beautiful enough for his princess. He doesn't just want a name that comes from nobility; he wants one that makes his heart smile – just as she does.

Loki loses track of time – busy thinking and watching his precious girl sleep – watching over her like a guardian angel. Before he knows it, she's stirring, and his attention is snapped back to reality.

"Hey you," Loki says softly to the now-energized baby as he picks her up from her resting spot. Once she's in her dad's arms, she begins to give small cries – the tears gathering breaking Loki's heart. "You're probably hungry, aren't you?" Loki carries her back to the living room and sits on the sofa – conjuring a bottle of breast milk in his right hand and bringing the bottle to her lips. Eagerly, the little girl takes it, and she begins to drink. The feeling of his baby daughter drinking from the bottle makes Loki grin – his heart doing joyful backflips, but then his thoughts quickly change. "I hope I can do right by you," he tells her. "Your dad isn't the best person in the world, but for you, I can try to be," the baby interrupts him by removing her mouth from the bottle – signaling that she's had her fill. Loki holds the newborn against his chest and leans back on the couch – chuckling as she lets out a small burp. "Because you, my love," he continues as he places a kiss on her small nose, "deserve the best life you can possibly have."

After a while of snuggling her on the couch, her eyes close, but Loki laughs as he smells her diaper being full. He eyes his daughter suspiciously before enveloping her in a green cloud – magically changing her into a fresh diaper and new onesie – a soft pink one with a bunny on the front – and destroying the old one. "Well," he sighs as he turns the television on, wanting some noise in the background, "I'd say we've done pretty good today, huh?"

Thor was right – she's a very good baby.

"You still need a name," he mumbles to himself as he looks at the paperwork and the birth certificate application on the coffee table in front of him – everything present but the baby's name. "Eloise," he says – smiling at the feeling of the name on his tongue. The little girl lets out a small noise – prompting Loki to laugh. "You like that name? Hm? Eloise?" Again, she makes a small noise. "Eloise...Annette Lokisdottir," he decides with a smile. "Eloise Annette Lokisdottir."

Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist!

[nicolewrites]

the impracticality of attractive best friends

@mishspelled​ why am i like this

Rating: G+ Genre: Friendship, Romance Characters: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Ingrid Brandl Galatea Words: 5,054

Ingrid is acting weird. Sylvain is determined to find out why.

AO3

Something is wrong with Ingrid. She’s been avoiding him for like four days and in the middle of a war when they’re supposed to be close companions that can watch each other’s backs, it makes Sylvain nervous. She still talks to Felix and Annette and Mercedes just fine. She even eats with Dimitri and the Professor one night, but she is certainly not talking to him.

The first instance of Ingrid being weird is when he finds her and Ashe in the library. They’re laughing together over some knightly tale which Sylvain is sure that he has read at some point or other in his life: he is friends with Ingrid after all. He approaches them quietly, making sure that he is sneaking up on Ingrid.

Ashe perks up when he notices Sylvain and he raises a hand in greeting. “Hi, Sylvain!”

Sylvain grins in return. “Ashe, Ingrid,” he greets.

Ingrid’s shoulders tense. She turns slowly to face him. “Hi,” she says shortly.

Sylvain pulls out the chair next to Ingrid and sits down next to Ingrid. He drops his arms onto the top of the table and rests his chin atop them, lowering his head to the height of the table. Ashe and Ingrid are both staring at him and he smiles at them.

“Don’t mind me,” he says lightly.

The corner of Ashe’s mouth twitches and his gaze darts to Ingrid, but then he drops his eyes back to his own book, reading the next passage aloud. Ingrid shifts next to Sylvain and her knee slides away from his where Sylvain hadn’t even registered that they were touching. He lolls his head towards her and sees that her ears are pink and her gaze is fixed determinedly on Ashe as their friend reads about Loog.

Slowly, Sylvain catalogues Ingrid’s reaction. She had tensed when he had shown up. Her ears are pink. She isn’t looking at him. She hadn’t seemed to want to touch him where their legs had been brushing. It really isn’t a typical Ingrid reaction.

He turns his own eyes to Ashe and, out of the corner of his eyes, he just barely catches the flicker of her gaze as Ingrid steals a tiny look at him. Sylvain presses his chin further into the cradle of his arms to hide a smile.

He’s not exactly sure what’s wrong with Ingrid, but from his perspective, it doesn’t seem to be an entirely bad thing.

-

The second instance of Ingrid being weird takes place in a small war meeting.

Dimitri and the professor have really synced up their plans since Gronder and the retaking of Fhirdiad, but that doesn’t make the impending task of taking Fort Merceus any easier. The battle map that they have of the fort, a parting gift from Claude and his spy network, is out-dated and there is no way to predict who will be present at Fort Merceus when they lead an all-out assault on the most protected Empire fortress. In retrospect, their plan is really quite stupid.

Sylvain points out a side gate over a lower part of the wall at Fort Merceus. “What about here?”

Dimitri taps the point on the map and frowns. “It’s not an ideal entry point for anyone except flyers, really.”

Sylvain looks at Ingrid. She is looking at the map too. Her mouth is set in a thin line and her green eyes are narrowed as she analyzes the proposed entry point.

“You could probably get two battalions over that point before enemy archers regrouped,” she points out.

“Yes,” the professor agrees. “Sylvain, how are your wyvern skills?”

He blinks at the professor. “Uh, I suppose they’re up to par. I don’t usually have a flying battalion though,” he points out.

She waves off the concern. “That can be fixed.”

“Professor,” Ingrid cuts in. “What about Seteth? He’s already established as a Wyvern Lord and he has the battalion already trained. We’ve taken on the aerial missions before.” Her eyes scan the map for something almost desperately and she relaxes after a second. “Here,” she says, tapping the other entry point, “you’ll need as many mages as you can over here and Sylvain has the Reason skill and the mobility on horseback.”

Sylvain studies the map. She makes a fair point. Having mages at that specific chokepoint would be incredibly helpful, as Ingrid had pointed out, but it is also extremely far away from where she, and Seteth in her proposal, would be deployed. Sylvain can’t help but feel a little hurt that she’d rather fight alongside Seteth than him, one of her oldest friends.

“Yes,” Dimitri agrees. “Sylvain, I do think that perhaps you should stay and watch mine and Dedue’s backs here.” He nods to Ingrid. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

The professor’s face is a schooled neutral expression, but her eyes land on Sylvain and he reads the summons in them without words. He rises from the table and nods to Dimitri and Ingrid before excusing himself. The professor trails after him and Sylvain waits for her just outside the Cardinal’s Room.

“What happened between you and Ingrid?” the professor asks as soon as the door closes behind her.

Sylvain blinks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about."

She looks unimpressed. “Sylvain, what did you do this time?”

He holds his hands up. “No! Really! I didn’t do anything. She’s just been acting strange lately.”

Something clicks for the professor and she sighs, an affectionate smile edging up her lips. “Right, well, you should sort that out. You two are one of our best pairs out there.”

Sylvain stares at the door to the Cardinal’s Room. “I don’t even know what happened,” he argues.

She pats his arm reassuringly. “You’re a smart man, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She turns to reenter the meeting room but pauses. “Thanks for the catch on that aerial entry point.”

Sylvain can only stare stupidly as the professor reenters the war meeting. At least he has confirmed his suspicions that Ingrid is acting strangely around him at the very least. He really hopes that whatever this is can get sorted out shortly.

-

Sylvain absolutely doesn’t intend to get into a conversation about marriage with Lorenz and Ferdinand, but they had brewed Seiros Tea and he isn’t stupid enough to pass on one of his favourite blends when Ferdinand is doing the brewing.

So he finds himself sitting in the courtyard as Ferdinand and Lorenz casually discuss the stronger hints of flavour in the tea, zoning out and staring towards the stable.

Marianne and Ingrid are both in the vicinity, grooming their mounts and chatting blindly about something or other and Sylvain finds himself watching them instead of listening to Lorenz drone on about the subtleties in the Almyran herbal flavours in the Seiros tea. Apparently, his distraction is unfortunately noticed and the other two noble’s attentions are snatched by Ingrid and Marianne as well.

“Two beautiful flowers, aren’t they?” Ferdinand says, a smile on his face. “And masters of equestrian arts.”

Sylvain stares at Ferdinand incredulously. “Hold on, what?” he questions.

Lorenz laughs, placing his teacup down. “Oh come now, Sylvain, I’m certain you’ve noticed the plethora of beautiful and eligible young women that frequent the monastery now. Half of them are courting your King after all, but it is undeniable that Marianne and Ingrid, with their titles, have a better chance than most.”

Sylvain blinks like an idiot and looks back over at Ingrid and Marianne. “Courting Dimitri?”

Ferdinand clicks his tongue. “No, no. Not Marianne for certain. There is no way she desires that sort of attention, but perhaps a smaller title might interest her.” His gaze softens a bit and Sylvain notices that Lorenz’s grip on his teacup tightens.

“I could certainly see Ingrid pursuing Dimitri,” Lorenz says, changing the subject off of Marianne, who Sylvain is now almost entirely convinced that Lorenz is enamoured with. “You all were childhood friends, were you not? That would be a most beneficial pairing for her house and it would be an easy match for His Highness as well.”

Sylvain frowns. “Dimitri and Ingrid?” He can’t really see it. Ingrid has only really ever treated Dimitri like a prince, not a potential spouse.

“Yes,” Ferdinand agrees. “Dorothea was telling me about the unsavoury suitor types that Ingrid has had to deal with in the past. I would have suggested Felix, but I suppose he’s already off the table isn’t he.”

Sylvain stands up, feeling uncomfortable. He’s not sure what’s worse between the allusion to Glenn and Ingrid’s engagement or the thought of Ingrid courting Dimitri.

“Speaking of Felix,” he excuses, “I do have to run.”

Ferdinand nods, completely oblivious, but Lorenz’s eyes narrow the tiniest fraction in suspicion. Sylvain stares down the Gloucester noble and takes a pointed glance at Marianne, daring him to voice his doubt of Sylvain.

Lorenz lifts his teacup back up and takes a sip to hide his annoyed expression.

-

Sylvain is on edge every time that Dimitri gets within a hundred paces of Ingrid for the next three days. Dorothea gives him a weird look over dinner and he quickly stops staring at his childhood friends where they’re eating with Ashe and Dedue. He stares down at his own meal, poking it with his fork.

“What is wrong with you?” Dorothea asks, not pulling any punches because of course she doesn’t.

Sylvain blinks at her. “What?”

She waves at him, gesturing to his whole body. “You’re all mopey and tense today. It’s like someone has been walking around poking you with a stick for three days.”

She turns and glances over her shoulder in Ingrid’s direction where Sylvain had been staring. Her head snaps back to him, her dark hair fanning out in the motion as she raises an eyebrow.

“No,” Dorothea says, a wicked grin spreading over her face.

“What?” Sylvain questions. “What are you on about?”

She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and cupping her chin in her hands. “Don’t tell me you have feelings for Ingrid.”

Sylvain stares at her blankly. “Excuse me?”

Dorothea smirks at him. “Oh my god, of course you do.”

Sylvain frowns putting his fork down so that he doesn’t drop it on the chance that Dorothea makes another outlandish claim. “No, I’m just trying to figure out why she’s been acting weird.”

Dorothea’s expression slackens into disbelief. “Oh,” she says.

They sit for a moment in silence, just staring at each other. Sylvain drops his gaze and picks up his fork, spearing a piece of pheasant. Dorothea sips from her goblet and the awkward silence lingers just long enough that Sylvain finally thinks of something just as horribly embarrassing for Dorothea as that last exchange had been for him.

“So, Ferdinand mentioned that you’ve been talking a lot.”

Dorothea’s head snaps up and her green eyes narrow so quickly that Sylvain is surprised she doesn’t reach across the table and stab him with her dinner knife.

“Not. Another. Word.”

Sylvain grins and takes a sip of his own glass. “Aw, come on. Don’t women love a man who is sensitive about his love of horses.”

Dorothea sneers. “Same way that you noblemen seem far too interested in a woman’s ability to love her horse with her entire heart.”

Sylvain pauses and lifts his goblet to her. “To our friends, the ultimate horse-women.”

Dorothea sputters at his classification of Ferdinand, but she taps her cup to his and they both drink heavily. Sylvain wrinkles his nose at the taste of the wine. “God, where did this even come from?”

Dorothea laughs, her head tipping back and her smile widening. “Claude, if I remember correctly. He offered the army Derdriu’s stocks.”

Sylvain scoffs. “Of course he did.”

-

The Ingrid weirdness does not, unfortunately, disappear with time. Instead, there are now six days until they march for Fort Merceus and Ingrid has started leaving rooms when he enters them. Sylvain just wants everything to go back to normal.

He corners Dimitri and Dedue first. They’re in the greenhouse, but Dedue has notably told Dimitri that he is not allowed to touch anything, so he’s just sitting on the edge of one of the gardens chatting quietly with his retainer.

“Your Highness! Dedue!” Sylvain greets brightly, walking into the greenhouse.

Dimitri turns to him immediately, but Dedue is hands deep in dirt and does not turn. “Hello Sylvain, what can we do for you?” Dimitri asks.

“I had a question for you actually, Your Highness,” Sylvain admits.

Dimitri looks surprised. “Oh, yes, of course. What is it?”

“Is Ingrid being weird to you as well?”

Dimitri stares at him. “Ingrid? Being weird?”

Sylvain realizes his mistake. Dimitri is one of the most socially oblivious people he has ever had the opportunity to know. He scratches the back of his head and prepares to backpedal out of this conversation to pretend it had never happened. Dedue brushes his hands off and stands up, turning to face Sylvain.

“Is this about her avoiding you and changing her assignment with Ashe or Annette or Mercedes whenever you two get partnered up for something?” Dedue asks.

Sylvain snaps his fingers and points at Dedue. “Yes! That!”

Dedue’s lips tilt into the tiniest smiles as he is obviously amused by the situation. “No, Sylvain, I believe that is only around you.”

Sylvain frowns. “Damn.”

“I think Ingrid and Mercedes and Annette were going to the Knight’s Hall,” Dimitri offers as if that solves all of Sylvain’s problems.

Sylvain nods. “Right, well, I’m going to go ask Felix.”

“I imagine you’ll get a similar answer,” Dedue says right before Sylvain leaves the greenhouse.

Sylvain decides not to dwell on that idea.

-

Felix is, of course, at the Training Grounds. He seems to be in some kind of strange sparring stand-off against Raphael and Lysithea. Sylvain pauses in the door of the Training Grounds and stares as Felix takes off towards Raphael, swinging his training sword with brutal efficiency.

Raphael blocks the blow on a training axe and uses his brute strength to shove Felix back. Lysithea then waves a hand and casts a spell, catching Felix loosely in a cage of Dark Magic. Felix groans in irritation and cuts the spell back.

Lysithea rolls her eyes and folds her arms. “You leave yourself wide open doing that.”

“Well, he’ll have back up on the actual field,” Sylvain chimes in.

The eyes of all three of his friends turn towards him.

“Oh, hey Sylvain,” Raphael greets brightly. “We were running some different drills.”

Lysithea huffs. “Apparently since Hubert uses Dark Magic like me, I’m the only one capable of helping out here.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “That was Raphael’s idea,” he reminds.

Raphael just grins his big dopey grin. “Hey, we gotta be ready, right? Hubert and Edelgard will be tough opponents when we get to the capital.”

Sylvain chuckles at Raphael’s endless optimism. “Right. Can I borrow Felix for a moment?”

Felix sheaths his sword and walks over to Sylvain. Sylvain turns so that Lysithea stops staring at him and throws an arm over Felix’s shoulders. Felix immediately shrugs it off and Sylvain smiles at the familiarity of their antics.

Keeping his voice low, he asks, “Is Ingrid being weird around you too?”

Felix just stares at him.

Sylvain frowns. “What?”

Felix grabs his arm and twists it just until the point of pain. Sylvain jerks his hand back, shaking it out and scowling at his friend.

“What the fuck, Felix?” he demands.

Felix scoffs. “Knight’s Hall.”

And then he’s turning around and walking back over to Raphael and Lysithea to resume whatever strange training regiment the three of them have developed. Sylvain stands there for a moment. He supposes that if Dimitri and Felix don’t have answers for him, his next best bet is probably Ingrid herself.

-

It’s mid-evening by the time that Sylvain arrives in the Knight’s Hall, but it isn’t any cooler than it had been in the afternoon. The torch sconces outside are lit and there is faint chatter that he can here from inside which means he is probably correct in assuming that at least one of his old classmates is still here.

He pushes open the door and is immediately assaulted by the image of Ingrid absolutely brutalizing a training dummy with a training lance. Sylvain stands there for a second just watching her smooth motions and the rippling muscles in her back, arms, and legs as she spins and jabs and tears into the dummy in absolutely brutal fashion.

Sylvain scans the rest of the Knight’s Hall and sees Mercedes and Annette sitting by the fire, flipping through tomes and exchanging whispers here and there. Ingrid seems so completely preoccupied with her training routine that she doesn’t even notice him. Sylvain redirects to the fire pit, plopping onto the couch next to Annette.

Annette jumps and snaps her book closed on her hand. Her brow twitches and she slowly reopens the book, shaking out her finger. “Hi Sylvain,” she greets.

Sylvain steals a glance back at Ingrid who has finished tearing up one dummy and is moving onto the next one.

“Why is she acting like Felix?” he whispers to Annette. “She’s not usually like this.”

Mercedes and Annette exchange a knowing look and Sylvain narrows his eyes as he looks between the two mages.

“She’s frustrated,” Mercedes offers as if he’s supposed to believe that’s all it is.

Sylvain sighs. “Fine, but why is she treating me like I’m horrible to be around right now? She’s not doing it to anyone else.”

Mercedes pats his arm and Sylvain feels pitied and a bit stupid. “She’s had a frustrating couple of weeks.”

Sylvain looks at Annette who is, historically, the worst liar he has ever met in his entire life. “Annette?”

Annette gives him a tiny grin which tells him that she knows something he doesn’t. “Why don’t you spar with her? Maybe that will be better for her frustration than destroying every training dummy we have.”

Sylvain pauses. It’s a reasonable suggestion, but Annette’s little smile still makes him nervous about anything related to Ingrid. Mercedes smothers a tiny giggle into her hand and Sylvain realizes that he is really not going to get anything out of either of them, so he stands up, heading towards Ingrid.

He picks up a training lance from the weapons rack and steps in front of her, catching her next blow and blocking it from hitting the training dummy. Ingrid immediately stumbles back, her eyes wide.

“Sylvain!” She looks completely startled to see him. “When did you get here?”

He chuckles and makes a loose, light jab towards her which she blocks instinctually. “A few minutes ago. Thought you might prefer a sparring partner to a defenceless dummy.”

Her lips purse, but she strikes back at him with a wider swing. “Fine, but you had better keep up.”

Sylvain grins and counters. He steps forward and she retreats, light on her toes, before she spins around him, trying to get behind him. While once Ingrid might have wiped the floor with him thanks to his lackadaisical ideas about training, he has seriously picked up his training during the war. He has her beat in the physical strength area, but Ingrid is seriously quick and it’s only years of training against her and Felix that allow him to read her movements well enough to block most of her strikes.

Still, Ingrid is coming at him with a vigour she doesn’t normally bring while training and Sylvain is quickly forced on the defensive. He locks the shafts of their lances together and slides in, closing the gap between them allowed by their weapons and Ingrid’s eyes blow wide with alarm. He’s not Felix, so he has no experience with grappling, but her lesser strength has her at a disadvantage here.

Sylvain, unfortunately, is momentarily very distracted by the candlelight flickering in her green eyes and she frees her lance, dropping the tip and sweeping his legs out from under him in a quick, fluid motion. The training lance catches in the material of his shirt as she draws it up to point at his chin and there’s a ripping sound as it catches on the ties of it.

Sylvain and Ingrid both study Sylvain’s now ripped shirt. From the fires in the sconces around the Knight’s Hall, the fire in the fireplace, the warm evening, and the exertion from the workout, Sylvain’s next action is done without thinking.

He pushes aside the tip of Ingrid’s lance and sits up. He strips out of his ripped shirt and stands up, kicking his lance back into his hands as he turns back to her, now shirtless. Ingrid’s lance is still pointing at the ground as she stares at his stomach blankly. Sylvain raises an eyebrow and she quickly turns her head away, her cheeks flaming.

“Round two?” he suggests.

There’s a smattering of laughter from over by the fire as Mercedes and Annette giggle at the scene.

Ingrid doesn’t give him the courtesy of a warning before she’s swinging her lance at his shins. She follows the blow with a slicing upward strike that Sylvain only barely deflects. His own weapon rattles from the force of catching her blow and he steps back. Ingrid follows, staying her course of what appears to be “incapacitate Sylvain as quickly as possible”.

Her blows are quick and rapid and Sylvain is barely agile enough to block half of them. When her lance's shaft smacks across his ribs hard enough to bruise, he lashes out with one of his feet to get her back. Unfortunately, the only thing he succeeds in doing is unbalancing himself as she hooks his foot with a grappling move he has only ever seen Felix use and takes him down.

Sylvain lands hard on his back in the sand, but Ingrid is not proficient in grappling and doesn’t realize that she has actually given him an advantage. Sylvain jerks his lance along the sang, sweeping her own foot and she comes crashing down after him, landing on top of him. She hadn’t been expecting the blow, so her weapon goes skittering away as her hands land square on his chest. Her legs slide around his hips and then Ingrid is sitting on top of him on the floor of the Knight’s Hall.

Sylvain stills, his chest heaving from exertion. Ingrid is gaping at him, but she isn’t moving off of him and Sylvain’s attention is unintentionally drawn to the iron of her thighs around his torso and the corded muscles of her forearms where she braces against his chest. Since they’re sparring, and Sylvain is still holding a weapon, he rolls, forcing her over.

Now he’s pinning her in the sand and he slides his lance up under her chin, effectively ending the duel. He expects Ingrid to laugh and shove him off because it’s so like them to devolve into grappling while sparring, but instead, her whole face turns incredibly red.

Sylvain pauses, staring down at her. She’s embarrassed? It doesn’t really compute why she’s embarrassed unless that she’s really ashamed to have lost to him.

There’s a scuffle of movement behind them which Sylvain dimly registers as Annette and Mercedes running out of the Knight’s Hall. He’s still staring at Ingrid like an idiot.

The redness in her face doesn’t fade, but she does shove him this time and he flails and falls back onto his ass. Ingrid doesn’t stand up, but she does curl her knees into her chest and bury her face her hands. Sylvain doesn’t get up either and just blinks at her.

“Ingy?” he says, testing out a nickname from back when they were children. “What’s up?"

“Nothing!” she squeaks out, lying worse that Annette normally does.

“Ingrid,” Sylvain says, growing more serious and a little more concerned. “What’s wrong?”

She drops her hands and tries to glare at him, but the lingering redness in her face makes it charming and endearing instead of intimidating like a normal Ingrid glare. “Nothing,” she says again.

Sylvain sighs. He stands up and dusts his hands off on his pants. He offers her a hand up and she takes it. He pulls her up and she stumbles into him before springing away as if he had burned her.

“Can we talk about why you’re being weird? We have an important mission ahead of us,” he begins, trying to defuse the situation.

Ingrid rounds on him, blushing again. “Oh my god, Sylvain, do you have any idea how attractive you are?” she snaps, obviously without thinking.

Sylvain feels his jaw drop. “Uh,” he stutters dumbly.

He knows he’s an attractive guy as the amount of female attention he had flirted with when he had been younger had been a very good indication of the fact that he is at least good looking. He had just never realized that Ingrid had noticed.

She spins away from him, burning her face back into her hands and groaning.

Sylvain’s eyes skim over her and he takes in her small, wiry form. She’s the picture of a lady knight and she’s an absolute badass. Sylvain’s brain immediately burrows into the ground as he remembers the feeling of her strong thighs caging his torso. Her hair glows gold in the firelight and her shirt clings to her from the sweat accumulated during her workout.

Ingrid is, as Ferdinand had unfortunately pointed out, incredibly beautiful.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asks. “Because you think I’m attractive?”

She turns back to him, glaring, but she is still red. “If I say yes will you leave me alone and we can pretend this entire conversation never happened?”

Sylvain runs a hand through his hair. That’s one possibility, but he kind of likes the idea that he can fluster Ingrid. He smirks at her and steps towards her. Ingrid tenses, but to her credit, she does not run away from him immediately.

“There’s nothing wrong with finding your best friend attractive is there?” he asks.

Carefully, with motions as though not to startle a skittish animal, he places a hand on her waist. Ingrid watches him do it, looking mildly alarmed. He steps closer to her again and the adorable blush creeps up her neck.

“Sylvain,” she warns.

“I mean we have a two-sided problem in that case if it is a problem.”

She blinks, processing his words. “What?”

He grins. “You’re hot, Ingy.” The childhood nickname feels weird paired with the compliment about her physical attractiveness, but he doesn’t regret it.

Ingrid’s foot kicks out and then Sylvain is falling to the ground again. He pulls on her as he goes down and she lands square on top of him again, this time settled over his hips. She presses an arm against the top of his chest to keep him down in the dirt.

“Shut up!”

He laughs. “I’d say you won round three, but you know,” he taps her hips with his hands, “I count this as a win for myself.”

Ingrid swallows visibly and then she leans down and kisses him. The kiss is hard and slightly awkward because she’s still pinning him to the sandy floor of the training pit and then because she jerks away after a second, flailing back as if she had just realized what she had done.

Sylvain grins lazily and tightens his grip on her hips so that she can’t run away from him. “That’s one way to shut me up.”

She bites her lip, looking uncertain, and loosens her grip on him. “Sylvain,” she starts.

He shakes his head. “Hey, you’ve been avoiding me. Can I talk first?”

She nods slowly and he rubs his thumbs over her hips, trying to be reassuring, but Ingrid just shivers at his touch and his mind almost immediately starts to wander back to the thighs of absolute steel bracketing his hips.

“I think you’re amazing,” he offers. “You’re badass and beautiful and you’re one of my best friends, Ing.”

She steals a glance at his hands on her hips and then looks back at him. Her green eyes sparkle and Sylvain’s heart flutters. “You think I’m beautiful?” she asks quietly.

“I do,” he agrees.

Ingrid’s hands loosen until they’re more of a touch than a pin and she shifts, her hips pressing into his. Sylvain’s hands tighten unintentionally and Ingrid freezes.

“Sorry!” she squeaks.

He feels himself flush a little. Ingrid continues on her previously decided path, leaning down as her hands flatten against his bare chest until she can kiss him lightly, almost hesitantly. Sylvain tips his chin up into the kiss and she responds by putting a little more force into the gesture.

Sylvain releases her hip and cups the side of her face as he kisses her back. Her lips are slightly chapped and warm and she tastes like the spicy meat they had had for dinner that night. He tightens his grip on her and considers trying to roll her onto her back, but then Ingrid’s hand shoves him down against the sand again as she runs a hand over his stomach. Sylvain grunts and deepens the kiss.

She opens her mouth to him without thinking and arches into the hand that he buries into her hair and the one on her hip. They kiss blindly and stupidly for a while until Ingrid tears back to breathe, her chest heaving as she stares down at him.

“Uh,” she stutters.

“Do you want to go for dinner with me tomorrow?” Sylvain asks before she can dig herself a hole. “On a real date,” he clarifies, just to be certain.

Ingrid’s awkwardness fades into a shy, cute smile. “I’d like that.”

She doesn’t move off of him and Sylvain glances down at their situation. She’s still basically sitting on top of him while he’s shirtless. There is no one else in the Knight’s Hall and there probably won’t be tonight since it’s getting later now.

“One condition,” he continues, his thumb tapping her hip lightly. She raises an eyebrow. “Kiss me aga-”

He doesn’t get the words out before she swallows them with a hard kiss.

[thezestywalru]

Kismet 3

Hey guys! So Donald Peak is an actual police detective in the GCPD, I believe he was introduced in the Gotham Central comics. Hope you guys like the update! It’s way shorter than I wanted it to be, but I should be working on something else anyway. Thank you to @messymessyml​ for showing me how to link the chapters. 

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Marinette quickly picked up her purse after checking Anthony’s pulse. He was dead, and rigor mortis would soon set in. Pulling the blood red clutch open, she placed on the blonde wig she had worn last night. Smirking, she walked out of the hotel room, briskly walking down the hallway away from the cameras.

Quickly pulling out her phone, she chatted aimlessly into it about the recent hookup. Pretending to talk to a girlfriend, Marinette chewed gum to alleviate her nerves, twirling the ends of her long messy blonde wig. 

She checked the phone as she left the hotel, trying to avoid suspicion but not seeming like she was trying to avoid suspicion. Ducking out of view of the cameras and removing the wig, she still kept her guard up. She reversed the jacket she wore over the short asymmetrical dress from last night. Tucking her phone into the pocket, she turned back to the direction of the hotel. The police would arrive soon, and no matter how incompetent they might be, she didn’t want to be there when they came. 

“Time of death 0300.” The underling reported to the head detective. “We’re currently reviewing all camera footage from last night.” 

“Alright.” Said Donald Peak, the lead on the case. “Gather ‘round, everyone!” The other four detectives he was in charge of joined him in a circle. “Our vic’s name is Anthony Jilani...” He paused to flip through a notepad.

“He was reportedly the ringleader for an underground fighting ring. They were notorious for human trafficking. He had no children, was married twice, the current wife being his mistress. Maybe the ex-wife hired someone?”

The detectives each began squabbling, talking over one another and offering up their own proposals, each less and less likely than the last. Don sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and surveying the crime scene. There was barely any evidence- the cameras were their only hope if they couldn’t get a hold of any reliable witnesses. 

“Sir!” Officer Xue jogged up. “I have a theory what happened.”

Peak was not amused. He crossed his arms, turning to the young man with an unimpressed look to his eyes. The detective faltered. 

“The MO matches Tyche, sir.” He hastened to explain. “There was iocane powder ingested by the victim by whiskey last night. He came upstairs with a blonde woman around 25, 5 foot even, 125 pounds. The camera didn’t get a good enough image of her face, but they both seemed pretty intoxicated.”

Tyche was the most infamous vigilante for hire on the streets. They- or rather evidently, she- had made waves of terror on the crooks of crime alley just three years before. She never targeted one caste, ranging from domestic abusers to high profile men such as Jilani. No one knew her identity or who she was. She always seemed to get away right before the authorities arrived, in a fruitless game of cat and mouse. A young detective had aptly nicknamed her after the Greek goddess of luck a few months after her first murder. 

Don looked at the blurry image of the laughing girl as she struggled to get him into the room. They immediately began to passionately remove clothes in the doorway. Giving them this image of her wasn’t careless. No, it seemed like she was following the footsteps of many killers that came before her by giving them one scrap of information, a shred of hope- the legacy of the Zodiac, Jack the Ripper and the Watcher. It was planned nearly perfectly, but Don swore on God that he would stop this woman before he would retire, even if it took to the rest of his life. 

-----

“Hello.” A young man greeted Marinette nervously in the coffee shop next to the Bat-Cave. He was tall, with the typical black hair and blue eyes befitting a Wayne. 

“Timothy Drake?” She emotionlessly confirmed, gesturing for him to sit down next to her. He cracked a small smile, sipping on a travel mug of coffee. He avoided her eyes, perhaps as a way of keeping her from discerning his secrets, or maybe in an act of anxiety. 

Marinette surveyed him quickly in a small once over. He was passable, and she could tell that his father had made all of his boys attend weight lifting and wrestling classes. She frowned as she noticed the large under eye bags that made his eyes seem sunken in. She extended her hand after a minute or so of silence. 

“My name is Annette Cheng.” She gave the moniker she had chosen upon her arrival to Gotham. “We have a lot to work on. But first, we drink.” 

Marinette picked up the flask from her hip. Nodding to him, she lifted in a toast. “Kismet.” She said, knocking back her head. 

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