#so it's a bit of a learning curve that i hope to conquer soon

[disenchantedif]

why are you alwaysss fucking sick?

[ootron]

i also thought i would post some process pics of going from my concept art to the actual doll with aria so i am gonna post some progress shots and some details below the cut! definitely a huge learning curve for me despite all the doll customizers i have watched but will take those lessons into the future... i am hoping to make signet next :^)

so i started with this licca-chan friend head (i don't know her name at all unfortunately, i thought it was a jenny head initially but it's definitely not) and completely rerooted her with some pink nylon hair... i chose nylon because i wanted to make it wavy but i may have picked saran in retrospect (to make the hair wavy and curl the bangs i had my gf braid the hair and wrap the bangs around a straw, then boil washed it! worked great)

then i repainted! or well, repainted some of her face after wiping off parts w acetone... i was hesitant to use mr super clear because it's quite toxic so i used brush on liquitex matte varnish which i am not going to use in the future because it truly gives no grip for pencils, and you can't use anything waterbased like gouache paint or watercolor pencils.... but i redrew her eyebrows, lips, and added some extra eye shine. i thought the face was the perfect retro anime look as is otherwise

then the accessories! i made her a little headset frankenstined out of two different doll headsets (including a very phallic looking mic part LOL) sculpted over a bit with some air dry clay and painted, and her heart shaped guitar which was entirely built from scratch using air dry clay, cardboard, and some string (you can also see the headset pre-painting). she also has some clear sci fi goggles but those were just a barbie piece i brushed some UV resin with glitter over to make it extra sparkly

(thank you kip for demonstrating size)

the arm was sculpted a bit with air dry clay as well, then painted silver... the gold ended up clashing too much w the outfit hence the color change. i also used dye to dye the joints black because paint would not stay on them

i also switched the arm sides someone despite checking SEVERAL times to make sure it was the right side. directions are not my strong point. aria left handed AU.

and finally the outfit! OH my god this was the part that made me almost quit and made it take so long. i had to figure out the jumpsuit pattern from scratch, and the fabric is stretchy which made trying to get the heart cut out to stay in place impossible. you actually can't put the jumpsuit on her without taking her head and arms off because i decided to have it close at the bottom for Some Reason. the boots were fun though! the bottoms are from a pair of jenny boots that i painted blue and then glue the fabric part on to.

and the jacket. WHY did i decide to work with such a crazy material (for aesthetics). it was essentially just slightly flexible fabric and not very good at draping at all, so there was a lot of frustration trying to attach the collar and shoulder pads (i ended up just using some extra strong clear tape haha). the jacket is literally why i stopped working on this for like 2 months. but i conquered it eventually

and thats the overall process! fun and i have learned my lesson in what kinds of materials to use. excited to work on another project soon :) !!

[peaceisadirtyword]

Fate (Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!🥰 As I said here’s the first fic I wrote about season 6B. I already loved Ivar but his evolution during this last season made me love him even more (I didn’t know that was possible). And I was dying to write for him (I even have a series planned, but I’ll wait until I’ve finished Move On and maybe Hate to post it. 

This one will only have 2 parts, next one will be posted maybe tomorrow! I really hope you like it, and that I have captured this “new Ivar” well enough! And, of course, this contains spoilers for season 6B!! so if you haven’t seen it yet don’t read it!😅 

I was going to post this one earlier this week but I had a pretty big exam today and I was exhausted. So next part will be posted maybe tomorrow or on Sunday!☺️

Also, thanks to @ivarhoegh for reading this before and telling me her opinion🥺🙏🏻 I hope y’all like it and enjoy the reading, thank you!

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol and violence, Ivar might be a bit out of character, my bad writing (?) not much! 

Words: 3459

gif belongs to @therealcalicali​

You knew he'd be back. The Ragnarssons would always go back to Kattegat. For some reason, you had the feeling he would be back soon and not with the Rus. 

A single boat, a Rus boat, which meant he didn't betray them or escaped from Kiev. Hvitserk came with him, of course, that made you smile softly. Hvitserk would always go back to him because he loved his little brother but didn't even know it. 

People booed, spat and yelled insults at them as you watched, silently, standing at the end of the crowd and rolling your eyes at the insults. You knew they'd be laughing and toasting while yelling their names very soon, as they always did with their father. 

Ivar had changed. He looked much more calmed, not so tense nor ready to attack to the first person that angered him. He had a huge scar on his angelic face, you frowned at it, angry at whoever dared to hurt his beautiful features. He had changed a lot. Of course, you had seen him at the battle against the Rus, but then you ran away from him, not even thinking about trying to fight him. 

You watched as Erik lead them to the Great Hall, where, you supposed, they'd meet King Harald. 

"Fucking traitors" someone spat next to you, making you raise an eyebrow and turn around to look at him "We should kill them and leave their bodies to the wolves" 

"Now that's no way to speak about the sons of Ragnar, is it, Einar?" You bit your lip to hold back a smile. 

"Their father would do it if he was here" he scoffed "They betrayed us all" 

Sighing, you started walking back to your little house, not far from the Great Hall. Seeing him again had been maybe too much, and you needed some time to yourself. 

Einar stopped you, though, taking your arm. 

"Will I see you tonight?" He licked his lips. You frowned softly, not really in the mood to see him. Some days ago, you'd said yes, opened the door to your house for him and then have sex until you passed out, but now Ivar was back and that changed everything. 

"I'm tired" you smiled apologetically at him "Maybe some other day" 

Einar sighed, but nodded. He was an asshole sometimes, but at least he respected you. 

Inside of your house, you started the fire on the fireplace to warm the house a bit as you took off your clothes. You had no intention of going back outside, so you'd eat something and get into bed. With some luck, you'd get some sleep. 

A part of you wanted to think you'd never see Ivar again. Even if it hurt, after seeing him every single day since you were both kids, it would have helped to forget him, but then again... Would you ever forget him? Not even so much time apart, since he left Kattegat when Björn took it until he came back to Norway with the rus army, had made you forget him. In fact, you'd swear your feelings were stronger than ever. 

But it was exhausting. To search for those ocean eyes, wishing and praying to have them look back at you even if it was for a second, to go to sleep thinking about him and wake up thinking his face was the first thing you wanted to see. You had always been there, looking at him when everyone else looked at his brothers, fighting alongside him to avenge his father, conquering York with him, and going back home with your king, he always was your king. 

Your parents were always worried about your unhealthy obsession with the youngest Ragnarsson. At first, they thought it was only a stupid crush, but as you kept growing and your feelings didn't disappear, they realized it was serious.

Then you heard that Ivar had sex with Margrethe, that pretty slave that had his older brothers pursuing her, and you were so devastated that you searched for comfort anywhere. And you found it on his brother Hvitserk's arms. 

You never regretted losing your virginity to Hvitserk, he was a good lover even if he didn't really remember your name the day after. 

Your parents left Kattegat when Lagertha was queen, disagreeing with the way she killed the former queen, Aslaug, Ivar's mother. You know how much he loved his mother, how close they were, and your heart ached for him as he lost both his parents at the same time. 

So you joined the army and sailed to England to avenge Ragnar. Always fighting by his side, always watching his surroundings, killing every single person that dared to get close to him. And learning that, like his brother, he'd never remember your name, because he was a prince, a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, fated to be a legend like half of his family was, and you were just a girl, the daughter of a seamstress and a warrior that learnt to fight for her prince knowing she would never become his princess. 

Then he became king, and took a queen. You still remembered how much it hurt to see him looking at her like that, how broken your heart was when he announced he'd marry her, and that they would have a child. You tried to hate Freydis, but you couldn't hate someone who made him that happy. You didn't want him suffering the same way you did for him. Ivar was special, and he deserved to be loved and happy. 

You could have left, escape Kattegat and never look back, but you couldn't. And it broke your heart when he did leave. 

Now he was back, and you were still the young girl in love that would fight an entire army of Christians for him. 

_______________________________________

King Harald was throwing a feast. It surprised you, as you didn't think the king would be so keen to throw a feast for Ivar the Boneless, former king and the source of most of his headaches. 

You wore a dark red dress your mother had sent to you, with your hair  barely braided and some kohl on your eyes. You never dressed for men, you couldn't care less about men's opinion about you, but you found yourself wondering if Ivar would notice you. It was like going back to being sixteen, trying to catch his attention without him knowing you were trying. 

It had been a long time since you stepped into the Great Hall for the first time. You didn't really attend the feasts when Björn was king, you were somewhat angry at him, at his family and his men. They were the reason Ivar left. 

And you probably wouldn't have attended this feast if you hadn't known for sure he would be there. 

He sat on king Harald's table, with Hvitserk sitting at the opposite side of him. The king, his wife and Erik sat facing the crowd. It was a weird feast, people didn't sit down and many chose to eat while standing. It was also awfully quiet, and everyone eyed the main table suspiciously, as if they were waiting for Ivar to stab king Harald at any second. It wouldn't have surprised you if he did. 

Einar drank horn after horn of ale next to you. Sometimes, he'd stop laughing with his friends and mutter some insults to the Ragnarssons, but not too loud. Not even Einar was foolish enough to insult the Ragnarssons in public, especially Ivar. 

You hadn't said a word. It felt familiar to stay silent, drinking and eating quietly and sneaking glances to Ivar sometimes as you had done your whole life. He had changed a lot, you could see he wasn't as defensive as before, his eyes didn't scan the room expecting to find someone laughing at him. But even if he was surrounded by people that probably would love to cut his throat and throw his body into the sea, he looked relaxed, making small talk with the king sometimes, as if he had everything under control. 

Suddenly, everything went quiet. Ivar looked at the crowd for the first time, his hands rubbed his lips as everyone stared at him and his brother. He could feel the resentment on their eyes and, for a moment, his eyes fixed on you. 

His eyes widened softly when he recognized you, but you looked away before you could see it, directing your glance to King Harald, who stood on his feet looking sternly at his people. 

A fake smile curved Harald's lips as he walked closer to the crowd. You barely listened to him, even if you kept your eyes on him, almost afraid of letting them wander around to find Ivar again. 

"Ivar regrets the way he ruled here" Harald pointed at him. Ivar didn't even try to look ashamed, looking directly to his brother. Neither him nor Hvitserk seemed to understand Harald's game "He was young, the responsibilities were too great, and he forgot the lessons of his father" 

You raised an eyebrow. Ivar had lost his mind for a woman while ruling, something his father had done too. Men could pretend to be all powerful and great, but women had the true power, the power to make them do unimaginable things out of love and obsession. 

"And his brother, Hvitserk, he never meant to kill Lagertha" Harald continued "How could he ever mean to kill such a goddess?"

Hvitserk never meant to kill her, that was true. You had been the witness to his illness, you had lost the count of how many times you found him, all drunk, drugged and wandering around Kattegat. You gave him food, but he never accepted your help more than that. He wasn't himself when he killed Lagertha, but he never regretted it. 

"They are who they are" Harald kept talking "But they are also sons of Ragnar"

Ivar looked at the people again, this time with a defying glare on his face, nearly asking who would dare to try and kick him out of his own home.

"I don't trust them" Einar clenched his jaw, and you felt his grip on your waist. He was half drunk and that gave him a false feeling of courage. Ivar heard him, and he narrowed his eyes. 

Then someone stood up. A man, whom you had seen drinking maybe too much ale, was standing bravely, looking at Ivar. 

"So tell us, Ivar, is it true you are a God, like you told us?" 

You tensed up, and gasped when Ivar stood up. Everyone was silent, looking at him. He walked until he reached the middle of the room, and he threw his crutch to the floor. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see him collapse on the floor. You heard him fall. And suddenly everyone was laughing. You opened your eyes to see him laughing too. 

Just like that, he won their trust again. The music started playing, and the mood in the room shifted quickly. Ivar was still on the floor, looking proud of what he just did, and letting his eyes wander around the room. He found you again, and this time you held his gaze.

__________________________________________

It was hot inside. Einar had reached the point of groping you, trying to make you sit on his lap to lift your dress. You managed to wiggle out of his grip and made your way out of the Great Hall. It was overwhelming, especially after all the tension of knowing Ivar was back. You barely slept the night before, and you weren't feeling like celebrating, what exactly would you celebrate? That you would be back to being the stupid little girl obsessed with a prince that wouldn't look at her twice. 

There was a couple of drunk men yelling and laughing when you walked down the streets of Kattegat while trying to get home. Hail Ivar, they yelled, making you raise an eyebrow. They were Einar's friends, and they had been cursing the name of both brothers a few hours ago. Men. 

But as you continued walking, your head throbbing from all the ale you had drank, a voice startled you. 

"I know you" 

You froze. You knew that voice very well, but had never heard it directed to you. 

Ivar was half hidden inside one of the barns. There was a torch next to him, and the dim light made him look even more handsome. You raised an eyebrow, and it took all of your willpower not to start running. 

"You know me?" You cleared your throat. 

"Yes" he pressed his lips together "You're Y/N, aren't you? You're a shieldmaiden" 

He knew your name. The fucking Ivar Ragnarsson knew your name. 

"Yes" you walked closer to him, trying not to stare at him too much. His crutch was leant against the wall next to him, and he had a wooden stick on his hands, in which he carved patterns with one of his knives "And you're Ivar" 

He smirked at you. It made your knees weak. 

"We fought together, didn't we?" His soft voice was like velvet, it was like a gentle caress when you were about to fall asleep "In England, I remember seeing you fight in York" 

You nodded. He tilted his head curiously, his ocean eyes looking you up and down. Those eyes you had always dreamt of. 

"I saw you on the Great Hall and I was surprised, I barely know anyone here anymore" he frowned, looking around "It felt nice to see a familiar face" 

"What are you doing here?" You blurted out. You didn't want to be rude nor make him uncomfortable, and immediately you bit your tongue. 

Ivar smirked again. 

"You mean here in a barn or in Kattegat?" He chuckled. 

"Both" you frowned. 

"I was feeling a bit overwhelmed in there" he shrugged "I needed some air and I needed to be alone for a bit... And, to be honest, I don't know why I am in Kattegat, I just needed somewhere to go, but it doesn't feel like home anymore" he looked at you in the eyes. It was so intense that you had to look away after a few seconds. 

You nodded softly.

"I'm glad you're back" you muttered. Ivar tilted his head with curiosity. 

"Did I kill any member of your family? Should I be careful in case you're planning to stab me?" 

It was the first time you smiled in front of him. 

"No, if you had killed someone I loved, I would have stabbed you long ago" 

He sighed, nodding his head. 

"Fair enough" 

"You did break my heart, though" you whispered, approaching him to lean your back onto the wooden wall next to him. Ivar narrowed his eyes, confused, but didn't say anything. 

"I just remember you were a really good fighter" he shrugged "And that you slept with my brother once" 

That surprised you. You looked at him, flustered. 

"I..."

"I wasn't... I wasn't spying on you or anything" he chuckled "I just saw you sneaking out of Hvitserk's room, I was sitting on the throne" 

"So I made a great first impression, didn't I?" 

Ivar smiled. A genuine smile, not a smirk, a real smile. 

"It wasn't the first impression, I had seen you training more than once, and I saw you when you came with your mother to see mine, I remember she made her dresses" 

Your lips parted in surprise. So Ivar did see you. You always thought he never paid attention to you, that he didn't know of your existence. Knowing you were wrong made you feel a strange warmth on your chest. It was nice. 

"You've changed" you pointed out in a soft voice. He had changed a lot, the Ivar you knew was very different to the one standing next to you. But it was a nice change. You liked it.

"Everyone says that" he raised an eyebrow. 

"Maybe because it's true" 

He shrugged, and his eyes went back to the piece of wood on his hands. 

"Why didn't you stay with the Rus? Why risk everything coming here?" 

"Did Harald pay you to ask me all of this?" He laughed. 

"No" you bit your lip to hold back a smile "I'm just curious" 

He looked at you again, with the ghost of a smile on his lips. His eyes shone under the dim light of the torch, and you felt the need to lean in to kiss his pouty lips. 

"I learnt a lot in Kiev" he muttered "I understood many things, and I met people that marked me forever" his voice had so much emotion that you wondered if he was talking about a woman "But my destiny isn't there, and I had to move forward" 

"So where is it? Your destiny" your eyes lightened up with curiosity. 

"I don't have a clue" he raised an eyebrow, smiling at you softly "I figured I'd come back to where I started, trusting the Gods would tell me what should I do" 

"Have you heard from them yet?" You giggled. 

"No, not yet" he chuckled. 

"Give them time" you shrugged "You're a favorite of the Gods, Ivar Ragnarsson, they'll guide you" 

Ivar looked surprised, and turned his head to look at you a bit better. He remembered seeing you around Kattegat when he was young. Once, after you had been in the Great Hall to give Aslaug a new dress your mother had finished for her, he had told his brothers he thought you were pretty. They teased him for days. He felt a small tug on his heart remembering the playful banter and the teasing. 

He had seen you look at him. At first it annoyed him, thinking you stared at him because of his legs, but then he caught you staring at him more than once the same way the girls stared at his brothers. It helped with his self-esteem, more than he'd ever admit. 

"What about you?" He shook his head. Any feelings you might have had for him were in the past, he was sure, he'd seen you with a man in the Great Hall. 

"I'm afraid my life isn't as interesting as yours" you giggled "I haven't left Kattegat"

"I know very well that things can happen without leaving Kattegat" he raised an eyebrow. 

"I just keep training, and sometimes I go to raids" you shrugged "And I work around here... Not much"

Ivar's eyes flicked back to yours, interested. 

"No husband, no children?" 

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. 

"No one finds me interesting enough to marry me" you sighed "And children? I can barely take care of myself" 

"I find you interesting" he muttered, and for a moment you thought you hadn't heard him right "I mean" he cleared his throat, chuckling "I'm glad to see you're well"

"Thank you, I'm glad to see you're..." You frown, looking at the scars on his face, that seem rather new "Alive" 

Ivar hummed, nodding when he realized you looked at his scar. 

"Thank my dear brother for this" he scoffed. You smiled at him. 

"You probably deserved it" 

He looked at you, surprised, but nodded softly. 

"Yeah, I kind of deserved it" 

Ivar the Boneless admitting he had done something wrong? Wow, you didn't know what had happened while he was with the Rus, but that was a huge change. 

Ivar turned to look at you when he heard you giggling. He liked you, he felt at ease with you. He felt like he didn't need to impress you, as you knew him too well already, but also didn't seem to be angry or afraid at him like the rest of Kattegat. 

His eyes hypnotized you again, they were even more beautiful from up close. 

Without realizing it, you leant into him. Ivar's eyes twinkled as he understood your intentions, and you'd swear he leant into you too. 

"Y/N!" Einar's scream startled you. Ivar turned his head to glare at the drunk man that stumbled down the street, with eyes half closed and looking around "Where are you?" 

You leant back with a sigh. You had forgotten about Einar and how needy he was when drunk. Ivar raised an eyebrow at you, and you took a deep breath, visibly embarrassed. 

"He's... Einar" you groaned "I should go and make sure he gets home"

Ivar nodded slowly. 

"It was nice talking to you then" 

"Same" you gave him your widest smile. Your first conversation with Ivar Ragnarsson had been very different from what you had imagined, but also better. 

"Good night, Y/N" he smirked. 

"Good night, Ivar" 

_________________________________________

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Okay I hope I didn’t forget anyone :( Tumblr doesn't send me notifications and sometimes the asks don’t even appear on my inbox💔 so please if I didn’t add you to the taglist tell me!

[six-sanctuary]

Homecoming (Will Miller x Reader)

Author’s note: I’ve never written a fic before but was HEAVILY inspired by all the amazing content @lucrezia-thoughts and @charnelhouse generate (Super hope that's okay!) and wanted to try my hand at it and contribute to Triple Frontier Fr-saturday. (I know I'm a day late whoops)

Also I suck at proofreading I’m so sorry for any errors and hope someone enjoys this. Lowkey proud of myself for not being obnoxiously shy and just saving this to my desktop somewhere for eternity.

Anyways here we go no more rambling this is the fic. If I still dig it later on I might write some more in this lil universe either with Will/Reader or throw in some Benny/reader. Maybe even Santiago/reader if I can get his voice right.

Below the cut is 18+ only please and thanks!

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

You’d always been there, and you always would. It was the sort of realization that crept up slowly on Will. Looking back he wishes he could count the times he counted on you. He wishes he could put it into something concrete like numbers, something that he could wrap his head around, but you were there even before the numbers.

You were there before he was shipped off to war, before he had to learn to count as he breathed, in… two… three… four… five… hold… two… three… four… five…. out… two… three… four… five…. You were there before he broke and crumbled, falling into a million little pieces he didn’t know how to put back together again.

He wished he knew the number of warm smiles you’d given him. He wished he knew what number it took for him to fall in love, whether it was the hundredth or hundredth thousandth soft smile. All he knows now is that so much time was wasted, and he didn’t want to lose a second more.

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

You’d moved to Colorado a few months ago. It had always been part of the plan but that timeline got moved up when Will’s parents announced they were selling the house in favor of something smaller now that they were empty nesters. For a solid week, Will hummed and hawed about it, flip flopping back and forth. The thought of giving up something that was so integral to his childhood, something that had always meant home for him, was hard.

After weeks of his thinly veiled discontent, you came to a solution. After one of his talks, you sat him down in the dining room table of your apartment together and laid out the documents one by one. Rather than explain right away, you let Will take them all in, grabbing each one and skimming it before moving on to the next piece of paper.

“This is…. To buy the house?” Will’s thumbs smoothed over the paper as if in need of a reminder that they were real, that this was real. “My parent’s place?” His voice was thick with emotion, which never failed to bring it out of you. Rather than answer in words and risk your voice failing you, you nodded.

From there it was a lot of packing, a lot of hard work, but with the Delta Force boys help you two managed to get everything packed up in a hauler, ready to make the trek halfway across the country. The thought of being holed up in the car for hours on end with Benny made you the slightest bit nervous. The younger Miller was a bundle of energy and while you appreciated that most of the time, you were wary about being stuck in cramped quarters with the lightning bolt of a man. In the end the cars were split with you and Santiago taking Will’s Ford and Will and Benny driving the Uhaul.

You had a week of the gang’s help, well the gang minus Frankie. He had to head back a few days early to his wife and daughter. The others stayed, even Tom, though he was quick to point out several “serious”problems with the house that you’d need to look into. Despite that, it already felt like home. Sure it needed your and Will’s touch on the place, and a number of things had gone into disrepair as the Millers got older. At some point it had become too much for them, but it was the perfect project for a newlywed couple.

Not once did you regret it. Not when you were lugging heavy boxes up the stairs nor when you learned the roof needed to be replaced. No, each problem was taken in stride because you knew with Will by your side, you’d get through it. There was nothing the two of you could not conquer.

Soon the novelty of the new house wore off and with Benny back at his apartment down the street and Santiago and Frankie back home, you and Will fell into a quiet domesticity. You lived in pieces, your life wrapped up in boxes while you made repairs to the house.

Will, though he meant well, was not as handy as he claimed to be. After the shower incident that required a late-night call to an emergency plumber, your big Delta Force husband was relegated to the simpler tasks, or the ones that required his muscle. If a dresser had to be moved, he was your man, rolling up his sleeves and making it look easy. The same went for anything that required reaching high places (the uppermost cabinets in the kitchen were a real bitch). In the end, Will ended up spending more time turning the side yard into a garden while you turned this old house into your home.

After a month, Will had to go back to work. He’d been requested to give a speech in D.C., back to the other side of the country. As much as you wanted him to stay, you knew that this was important to him. You knew how much it mattered to him to feel useful, to feel good about what he did and so with a kiss to the cheek, you promised him that you’d have the kitchen cabinets all painted by the time he came back.

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

Classic rock was softly playing out of the radio you had set up on the counter. Painting was boring work, even more so all by yourself. The radio made you feel less alone and so you hummed along as you worked. Stroke after stroke of paint was rolled onto the cabinets, breathing new life into the space. It was really mindless work and so your thoughts wandered as you painted. You thought about the home, what other projects you had in mind. If you finished the cabinets quickly enough you wanted to tackle the downstairs bathroom too before Will got back.

He'd called every night but it wasn’t the same as him being here. If you were lucky, you got him on FaceTime and got to see his face light up when you appeared on his screen. Even with the small image of him on your phone he was so handsome, golden and bright. You’d called him your Apollo once, god of the sun, and he’d found that funny. Ben was picking him up from the airport tomorrow and driving him home and then you’d have your sun again.

The opening of the front door snapped you out of your thoughts, your head whipping around. “Honey?” His gruff voice was unmistakable to you. Without a second thought your paintbrush was set down, dripping slightly off the drop cloth though that was a problem for later. Your feet carried you to him, flinging yourself into his arms when you saw him standing there in the foyer. “I thought you were coming back tomorrow.” You nuzzled into his neck, breathing in the smell of him as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “We finished early and I wanted to surprise you.” It was definitely a surprise.

His hand moved from the small of your back to your chin, gently lifting it to place a soft kiss on your lips. “I missed you,” you breathed before stealing another. “I know.” He always knew. He knew every time he left you would miss him and he would miss you. You’d play this game and then he’d come home and reclaim you. One kiss turned into two, which then turned into three and four. Your hands moved to his short blonde hair, moving to the back of his neck to pull him closer, ever closer.

Leaving his bags at the door, you two tangled, desperate for contact, desperate for two to become one again. He picked you up, something you’d normally protest as your feet worked just fine, but instead you let him carry you up the stairs, deeper into your home, to your bedroom.

With a playful grin he tossed you onto the bed, nearly chuckling at the way you almost bounced. His amusement only lasted a moment before lust and his need to have you took over. He descended on you on the bed, lips crashing into yours for a heated kiss as his tongue grazed against your lower lip. He was everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses as his name repeated over and over in your head like a mantra.

Will… Will… Will…

His large hands held your wrists above your head, somehow managing the dichotomy of being gentle but firm, while his lips retraced every curve of your skin. Every time he came back the routine was the same. Will wanted, no needed to learn you again, to cover every soft spot that made you sigh to ensure you were the same as when he had left. He needed to know and so he kissed you, his trimmed beard tickling as he slowly made his way down your body earning soft moans along the way.

He only left your wrists when he got to your legs, separating them and placing one over his shoulder as you laid back on the bed. There he paused, looking down at you so bare and exposed and wet beneath him. It was hard not to move under his gaze. “God you’re so beautiful.” You felt heat rise in your cheeks as you whined out his name. He placed a less-than-chaste kiss on your inner thigh before moving closer, breathing in your heady scent. Licking your folds, he let his tongue circle your clit, smirking at the sounds leaving your lips.

He knew your body like the back of his hand and it took no time at all for him to bring you to that peak of pleasure. Closer and closer, more and more you felt your body respond to him, your hips rolling up against his tongue, hands fisting in the sheets or his hair whichever was closer. “C’mon baby,” he coaxed, slipping a finger into your slick heat, curling it to stroke the soft spot that made you cry out and shudder around him.

“That’s one.”

And you knew your husband would follow through with another. He collected your orgasms like some collected baseball cards, counting each and every one. No night ended with just one, leaving you spent exhausted and so satisfied at the end.

Wiping the wetness from his face, he kneeled next to you, watching as your breathing rate came back down, waiting for the sign that he could have you again. As you blinked the haze away, his hands trailed up and down your side, drawing absent patterns against your soft skin. The look in his eyes of restrained hunger made your mouth go momentarily dry, reigniting the flames of passion within you. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you used your other hand to reach for him, pulling him over you.

It was all the encouragement he needed. After tossing his shirt away, his calloused hands move to your thigh, hiking it up over his hip. You had only a moment to take in the sight of him, the well-toned muscle, the scar on the left side of his stomach, before you two crashed together once more. Your hips ground against the hard bulge in his pants, leaving a dark patch in the denim. You needed more, more friction, more him.

He pulled away only long enough to unbutton his pants, kick off his boots and rid himself of the rest of his clothing. Standing at the edge of the bed, he stroked his impressive length a few times as he admired your naked form. Then the wait was too long and crawled over you, lining himself up and so agonizingly slowly pushing himself into you. You tried to be still but it seemed your body had something else in mind as your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him ever closer.

“Someone’s eager,” he breathed, both of you knowing full well that neither of you had the patience to wait much longer. Pressing his lips firmly against yours, he moved, hips snapping into you at a quick pace, his size stretching you in ways no one else ever could. Your body molded to fit around him, your leg wrapping around him once more in an effort to guide him ever deeper. He bottomed out in you before pulling out and pressing into you again and again and again. Each motion put stars behind your eyes, the fireworks building to another crescendo.

You felt him get closer, the rhythm of his hips losing itself as he continued to thrust into you, hips stuttering as the pleasure overwhelmed. “One more honey, I know you have one more.” His low throaty growl in your ear was enough to push you over the brink, your hands clamoring for purchase on his back and shoulders as you cried out once more. Your core clenched down on him and it took only a few more hurried thrusts before you felt his hot seed shooting into you as he let out a low grunt.

His forehead rested against yours as he remained where he was, not wanting to pull out of you just yet. A thin sheen of sweat covered the both of your bodies and despite that you didn’t think either of you were finished quite yet. You had a full week of time apart to make up for. Will pulled his head back from your forehead to give you another soft kiss, this one lacking the passion and lust but more than making up for that with the love and affection he poured into it. “It’s good to be home.”

[ikeromantic]

Can’t Make Promises

A mini-fic for @chaotic-coyote featuring Motonari, who is in fact, a very bad boy. For my 400 follower celebration!

June, Motonari, Spicy and Sweet The roll of the boat on gentle waves soothed Motonari in ways very few things could. It was the sensation of being out of control, immersed in the chaos of the unpredictable sea. Giving his power up to the whims of the ocean. 

He glanced to where the Oda princess sat, her knees pulled up to her chest, head down. If only she could understand . . . you had to let go of control to see the truth of the world. That nothing meant anything, nothing but what you did with your own two hands. But she wouldn’t even open her eyes to try to see what he did.

Motonari crossed the deck and pulled her up by her arm. 

She looked at him with wide eyes, still afraid, though he’d treated her kindly. Protected her. From his own men, sure, but it still counted.

“I wanna show ya something.” He smiled at her, but this didn’t seem to help. She just nodded mutely, still pale with fear.

He walked her across to the rail and pointed at the sea, still holding to her with his other hand. “Ya see that?”

“The - the ocean?”

Her voice was like afternoon sun. Warm and bright. He didn’t turn to look at her, worried she would clam up again. “Yeah. Ya know what it is?”

“Ummm . . . water? A lot of water?”

Motonari laughed. “It is that, princess. But it’s more. It’s chaos. Freedom. An’ it’s mine, or I’m its.” He had a sudden idea. A way to explain without clumsy words. With her arm firmly grasped, he pulled her up onto the rail.

“M-motonari, I - I’m afraid we’re going to fall in,” she whimpered.

“Nah, we ain’t gonna fall. We’re gonna jump.” He didn’t give her a chance to reply. He leapt from the rail, and took her with him down into the blue.

The princess shrieked for half a breath before the water covered them. He could make out her shocked expression in the clear water. Her eyes were closed tight, jaw clenched. She began to panic, flailing. 

Motonari let her bat at him as he guided her up to the surface. It didn’t really hurt and she looked pretty funny. He was laughing when their heads brok the surface.

She sputtered. “You - you! I hate you!” 

He pulled her tight against his chest, stilling her arms. “I don’t hate ya, princess. And that flush in yer cheeks makes me think ya don’t hate me so much either.”

The Oda princess pushed away from him, and he let her. “You - you don’t know anything. Anything about me!” Her eyes found the ship. It was still moving, leaving them in its wake. “The ship! Motonari! They’re leaving us.”

He chuckled. “Yep. They’ll come back soon enough. I do this all tha time.” He grinned at her. 

“Well, I’m not going to sit here and wait.” She looked toward the distant shore. “I’ll just swim that way.” 

“Wouldn’t do that, princess.”

“Pfft. I’m not listening to you.” She turned and began to swim. But the tide and current were pushing out from the land, and she didn’t make any progress. Her movements grew more tired as she fought the waves and the heavy, wet cloth of her kimono.

Motonari stayed with her, in arms reach. He didn’t want to drown her, afterall. 

She finally stopped struggling and looked at him. “I’m not getting anywhere. You brought me out here to drown me.”

“Nah. I just wanted ta swim. Cool us both off. And . . .” Motonari found he didn’t quite have the words for the rest. Or, more honestly, he didn’t want to say it. That he’d brought her out here to share something special to him. 

“Great. So I’ll drown on accident then.” 

He chuckled. “I’m not gonna let ya die, princess. Not on accident.” Or at all, but she didn’t need to know that. “If ya wanna swim easy, ya need to lose yer heavy clothes.” 

“My!” She glared at him. “My clothes?!” 

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him one way or another. Which it didn’t. If she wouldn’t ditch them on her own, he’d pull them off of her when it looked like her strength was fading. 

Her hot gaze didn’t leave him as she reached under the water to undo the ties of her kimono. “You better have something for me to wear when the ship comes back.”

“Sure,” his grin widened. He wouldn’t mind dressing her up. He had lots of expensive clothing, stolen from traders or bought at port. Some of it was bound to fit. 

Her kimono and obi floated up, bubbling for a moment before sinking again. She was left with nothing but a thin, white shift. It clung to her skin, nearly transparent. 

Motonari couldn’t help the way his eyes slipped down her figure. He could see her breasts under the water, her bare legs kicking. His hands itched to touch her and his chest felt tight and hot. This was lust, yes, but . . . something more. Something as wild and chaotic as the sea. 

The princess blushed, her hands trying to cover her chest and swim at the same time. Unsuccessfully. 

With effort, Motonari turned away. He cleared his throat before speaking but his voice still came out rough and low. “Should be easier to stay up now. Do ya know how ta float? That’s even easier.” 

“Is that what you wanted to show me? How to float?” He felt the water stir against his skin as she got closer. 

“Nah.” He swallowed again. Why had she closed the distance between them? He felt her leg brush against his. Was she trying to taunt him? Did she not know what a thin thread his control was held by?

“You know, now that I’ve stopped being entirely pissed off at you, this is kind of nice. The water feels good. The motion is nice. And it’s beautiful. Everywhere I look, endless blue.”

Her hand reached out, touched his shoulder. 

Motonari caught it and spun to face her. She was, perhaps, a handsbreadth away. Her face close enough to kiss. So he did. He caught her lips with his, loving the taste of salt and sweetness. The way her body tensed at his touch, and then clung to him. Her tongue playfully pressing against his. She was every bit as hungry for this as he.

He broke the kiss to look at her face. Would he see the same passion in her eyes that burned in his heart?

The princess looked at him with wide eyes. There was desire there, but still a frisson of fear. 

The blend was heady, intoxicating, but . . . he didn’t want to conquer her. He wanted - wanted - Motonari cut that thought off like a tangled net. “Ya taste real sweet, princess. Might have ta move yer sleeping quarters and make ya an official bed warmer.” 

This had the desired effect. She pushed away from him with an angry expression. “It was just a kiss,” she pouted. “And you made me do it. Don’t read anything into it.”

“Sure, sure princess.” He laughed, though it sounded more forced than normal. “So, ya want ta learn ta float?”

She sighed. “I guess. I’m not a very good swimmer so . . . yeah. Just, no more kissing, ok?”

“Can’t make promises, but fer you I’ll try.” He grinned at her expression, half hopeful, half anxious. “Come on then. First, ya gotta lay back. Like on a futon.” 

She tried to lay back, but flailed at the water. 

Motonari went to her, and put his hands under her back, supporting her. “Ya gotta trust me, princess. Me an’ the ocean. Ya may not know what we’re gonna do next, but ya gotta believe we got yer back. Like this.”

It took a few breaths for her to begin to relax. To trust him. But she did.

He loved the feel of her skin on his calloused hands as he slid one to her shoulders, and the other to her low back. He couldn’t help but go lower still, caressing the round curves of her hips and ass. Damn but she felt good.

“Watch where you touch,” she hissed, but she didn’t move. 

“I gotta support ya, right?” He grinned and obstinately went lower still, stroking the back of her thigh. She made a little sound of pleasure that stirred him, leaving an ache in his chest and balls. He knew he should stop himself but he’d never been good at impulse control. 

“Y-yeah, but I think - I think I can . . . just . . . let the water?” She sounded strained, and bit her lip. The expression sent a shock of desire through him. Like a bolt of lightning when it hit the water.

“Ya can,” he nodded, letting his fingertips draw little characters on the back of her leg. He didn’t miss the way she shivered, nor the way his body responded to it. He slid his hand to her inner thigh and up. He could feel the heat coming off her. The need. His knuckles brushed her delicate cleft, tempting. Taunting. 

And she, blessed beauty, made a choked half-moan. 

“I can let ya go . . .” He made the offer, her last out, as far as he was concerned.

“N-no, damn you.” She closed her eyes. “Don’t you dare. You started this, Motonari.”

“Mhmm. And I finish what I start.” 

[pomegranates-and-blood]

ἀλήθεια (Chapter 6, Vοσταλγία AU)

ἀλήθεια Masterlist

Pairing: Freydis/Reader, Ivar/Reader (past)

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: The usual, plus mentions/descriptions of war/battle. My endless swooning over Freydis.

A/N: So yeah, another one of these. It’s on the shorter side, and it doesn’t have much Freydis/Reader; but it is the last setup for the epilogue, so I needed to get plot stuff out of the way before we get to the good part lol. Hope you like it!

She loses count of all the months that go by, of all the flavors and scents she discovers, of all the stories you share and hear, of the vibrant and new colors she sees, of the people she meets and names she now remembers.

And she learns to speak your language of strange consonants and odd verbs, and you learn to speak hers of silent glances and smiles that feel secret. You learn to say the name of the man that you left without pain, and she learns to say the name of the man that you loved without resentment.

Oddly enough, these months teach Freydis to be almost thankful for Ivar.

Doesn’t mean she doesn’t still feel the ridiculous envy for a phantom, and that each time you and her argue about something regarding the past, she feels his mocking glare on her, as if reminding her it wasn’t him the reason she lost; doesn’t mean she doesn’t see him in every man in power she meets, especially those that linger too close to you, those that lose themselves in the curve of your smile.

She doesn’t blame them, but she hates them all the same.

But the ones she hates the most are the softer ones, the ones that are so unlike him that they make you laugh freely and don’t make you think twice about the easy affection you give away, the ones that are so unlike her that they don’t make you think of secrets and can offer you the world in a way only a man can.

But once again, Freydis is thankful for Ivar. For many things, because he taught her many things, because he brought you to her, because he freed her once. Most of all, she is thankful for what he taught the both of you about men in power.

Because when a prince in some cold land -colder than Kattegat, though she isn’t sure if distance is clouding her memories- presses a reverent kiss to your knuckles and looks at you with hunger in dark eyes, you smile with the same thing written in your own gaze; she is able to understand that your hunger isn’t for him, nor for all the worlds he offers you.

Because when she meets the last remaining man of your blood and he greets Freydis roughly in her own tongue -unaware she speaks Greek, but it is better that way, it is better they don’t know she knows many things- with a smile warmer than yours but eyes just as calculating; she can smile back and accept the warmth for a truth instead of searching for a lie.

Almost a year goes by and she finds herself enthralled in the way you make Sparta your own, the same way you did Kattegat: by letting the world around you change you just enough that you can force it to bend to your will.

And now there’s more definition in your shoulders, the lines of your back stronger, more defined; from a year training with bows and arrows alongside Lysander and Galla.

And now your anger is more subdued, the chaos kept at bay with cruel and well-placed words, but the fire is the same that makes her think of spring storms; from a year a woman free of everything except your ambition.

Freydis has changed too, she knows this. She finds herself standing taller on ground not her own; she finds herself just as aware as she always was of how they look at her, only now able and willing to use it against them; she finds herself finding certainty not in the Gods but in herself; she finds herself accepting that pain was never a gift from the Gods, and it may have marked her, body and soul, but she made herself.

And now here she sits by your side, trying not to let her thoughts linger on how you both said goodbye to Galla knowing she would return to him, to the man she supposedly loves, but here he is greeting you with a Spartan woman by his arm, a wife that isn’t the strong-willed and secretive woman Freydis came to care for in those months travelling together.

Your cousin eyes you with a teasing smile, “You are itching to return home, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know where my home is,” You correct, a tilt of your head, “But I do want what is mine to be returned to me, yes.”

“Some still say lands in Scandinavia are yours. To think you left Greece promised to a Thebesian and now you have returned, the wife to a Varangian King.”

You shrug one shoulder.

“Twists of Fate.”

“I’m still expecting him to storm our coasts to get you back.”

“You put a lot of value on my hand, Lysander.”

“Humility doesn’t suit you,” The man shrugs broad shoulders, and in the way he offers a side glance Freydis sees so much of you. “Regardless, if they do, we will be ready.”

“Of course you will be. I would hope you would ready for another battle, though.” You state, tone growing serious.

“We will retake Eleusis when the time comes.” Lysander reassures you, but you shake your head, and in your gaze all Freydis can see is…hunger.

“I am not speaking of Eleusis,” You promise, and when you smile your cousin returns the same mad kind of smile. She remembers Ivar and Hvitserk talking and boasting over the table during a feast after a victory, she remembers the mad smiles they shared with one another, and she understands seeing you and Lysander now, that there truly is a special kind of song to be heard only by those who share blood. You raise your chin, and offer, “Thebes is weakened, Lysander. And you know better than I do that to retake Eleusis we need to strike through land.”

Realization dawns on the man, who leans back and studies you in silence for a few breaths. You never lose the confident stance, though, staring him down as he considers your words.

Finally, he says, “We take over Thebes, settle your army there, and we can attack Eleusis from the North with the brunt of Attic forces, while Spartans choke their coasts.”

“And in controlling Thebes we control most of the silk trade in the Empire,” You finish, proud as you straighten in your seat, “Those priests are sure to miss their Byzantine Silk, are they not?”

Freydis is aware, in some part of her mind, that she is probably staring at you like a lovesick fool. Wide and lost smile, the faint warmth she feels on the top of her cheeks, eyes giving away every secret, if there ever was one.

You have eyes for the man across from you, gaze defiant in a way she knows well, in a way that her heart knows well too, for each skipped beat that gaze is responsible for.

Lysander tilts his head to the side, much like you do, and presses, “And who would rule? You?”

“Who else?” You retort, shrugging one shoulder, “You were never the conquering type, the Gods know you are Anax because you have no choice.”

He ignores the jab you throw his way, instead insisting,

“But you are Anassa of Attica, and I don’t think Boetians would take kindly to an Athenian woman ruling over them.”

Your mouth curves downwards, a nonchalant gesture that speaks of anything but that.

“They will, because we will be saving them. Attic or not, I am still Greek. Tis better than the alternative.”

“The Empire is not the enemy you thi-…”

“I’m not talking of the Empire. I’m talking of the Kievan Rus.”

“Oleg.” You start, and she lifts her gaze with a frown.

“What of him?”

“Do you trust him?”

Freydis scoffs, “No. And neither do you.”

Pressing your lips together, you look away for a moment, considering your next words. Freydis watches in silence, though her hands still follow the familiar motions of picking apart the flowers, stems, and leaves from the dried batch of yarrow.

“I think I do,” You start, voice quiet. “I think…I think that if nothing else, he is…direct. Reliable, in his own way.”

“He is unpredictable.”

You reach forward to correct a mistake she made, picking off a dried flower she left alongside the leaves, and say, “So was Ivar.”

“Not the same, and you know that.” She argues, leaning forward. For all the times she argued that you should have manipulated Ivar into doing your bidding, she never expected you to find the one man that outshines your husband in volatility, in chaos; and try doing so to him instead.

“He is smart, and he has ambitions that…align themselves with mine,” You insist, and Freydis accepts your words with a sigh. She doesn’t like where this is going one bit, but she will concede that this prince is a piece in the board that you shouldn’t rule out as a useful. “Do you think…?”

The words hang in the air between you, and her gaze meets yours, her answer unspoken.

“We will see,” She promises, and the smile that slowly curves at her lips is mirrored in yours. “Lust loosens a man’s tongue much more than wine, after all.”

The moment the words leave your lips silence reigns in between the people in the room, but Freydis doesn’t fail to notice how Galla is undisturbed by the mention, continuing her craving of a wooden block to make a building to add to the detailed stereographic map Lysander keeps of Eleusis. She isn’t sure if it is an act, if it is part of her pretense that she knows everything, or if she truly does.

Lysander’s broad arms are crossed over his chest, and he frowns as he looks at you.

“What are you talking about?”

Your smile is a secret in itself, but it speaks of something she knows well. Arrogance.

“A Prince from Novgorod will send an army to Thebes soon, they will be razing through Macedonia when spring comes.”

“How exactly do you know that?”

“I am a witch, I know things?” You tease with a smile, before sharing a look with Freydis and explaining, “There’s a man, a powerful man, interested in Constantinople, much in the way I am interested in Greece. He has agreed to send weak enough forces that we can overtake them and conquer Thebes, as long as we weaken the Empire for him.”

“Impressive woman as you might be, you cannot give the Rus Constantinople.”

You don’t miss a beat, answering, “But I can weaken it by taking Thebes, Athens, and Eleusis from them; and I can give the Rus standing ground on Athens when the time comes for them to invade.”

A sigh, and Lysander tries, voice strangely calming, “How are you certain you are not setting up the invasion of your own land?”

“I have other…safeguards.”

“Marriage?”

You shake your head with a scoff, “Nothing as fickle as that, no.”

“What, then?”

“Fear, awe. There are many things you can call it,” You state. When you speak next, there is a purposely false tone of innocence in your voice, and you shrug your shoulders, “You ought to remember, Lysander, that I am married to a Viking. And a famous one at that.”

“You divorced him.”

“But that is not a tale people will tell. Not there, for they fear his wrath too much to imply his wife has left him; and not here, for they fear the indecency of a woman capable and willing of ruling alone. As far as anyone knows, Ivar the Boneless has his eye set on the Mediterranean, and it is just a matter of time before his army gets here.”

“You cannot-…” Lysander starts, only to be interrupted.

“We courtesans are good at sharing secrets, you know?” Galla pips from her seat, dark eyes still focused on her project. “I can make sure my people spread the right secrets.”

Lysander’s eyes go slowly from the former courtesan to you, and he takes a deep breath.

“How much time will that buy you?”

“Enough,” You promise, unfaltering. “One like me never outlives a lie.”

____

The war takes a toll even on you. She sees it in the tired eyes as you offer a smile across a war table before returning your attention to the movements of the troops your commanders speak of, feels it in the loose hold of your hand in hers as you promise your goodnight wordlessly and slip away in the quiet of the night, hears it in the quiet prayers that leave your lips as you cut off a piece of your hair and let it flow with the wind that carries the ashes of those who perish in the battles.

But war, war like this, it is invigorating as much as it is debilitating. Freydis feels it, feels it in every victory that makes her smile a little wilder, feels it in every successful trick that makes Galla’s dark eyes shine with pride, feels it in every piece of land you claim for yourself that makes you a little more goddess than woman.

And before winter is upon you, the mark of battle is slowly fading from Eleusis, and you stand before a throne made of stone that they all pretend not to see the Norse runes etched on, and with your head held high, you claim the title you were born to hold.

Anassa of free Greece.

____

It is the sight in the night you offer a feast to honor the first families that are joined in marriage under your rule that Freydis notices something off about you.

Granted, a celebration in your home is almost nothing like the celebrations she participated in while in Kattegat; the games are very different and so is the music, the food is fascinatingly strange and the people less so, but still as fascinating; but she is unable to stop herself from comparing it to a feast in Kattegat, to the nights of music and loud people all around you, to the breathed laughs you’d let out and all the different smiles you would offer in the course of one night.

And while the world around you is familiar once again, and the people are warmer and kinder, and the music is more refined and the food sweeter; you…you remain distant. And your breathed laughs are mere chuckles for the benefit of others, and the smiles you offer do not stray from two varieties she sadly knows well: the false smiles and the wistful ones.

So, she approaches you. Quietly, you both know by now there aren’t words that need to be exchanged, she takes a seat next to you.

As who awakens from a dream, you turn your gaze to Freydis and offer a smile. A warmer one, a truer one, and that fills her hollow chest with something indescribable.

But instead of saying anything, or accepting the impossible calm in the midst of the chaos of the celebrations as you sit side by side, you stand up and extend a hand.

“Walk with me?”

Freydis doesn’t hesitate to take your hand, and when you don’t let go as you start walking through the balconies of the temple, she dares to intertwine her fingers with yours.

“You seem…different tonight.”

“It is strange, sitting there alone,” You tell her, an explanation, an answer to the question she didn’t need voice. “I never knew how to handle power alone. I had Narses, I had Ivar. I was never alone with power, with the decisions, with the…weight.”

“You don’t have to lose yourself because of it.”

“I don’t plan to, I just…if any of them were here, I could…ask them, I could…”

“What would you ask?”

“If hunger like this is to be expected,” You reply instantly, holding her hand just a tad tighter. You stop walking turning to look out at the sea from the stone balcony, and Freydis cannot help but feel you see much further beyond the horizon when you do. “I am not content with Eleusis, I want…more.”

Freydis smiles, proud and maybe a little mad.

“No one ever expected you to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“What is it you truly want, Freydis?” Galla asks, too convoluted of a question for this early in the morning. Though, Freydis has learned in these passing months that to what her is a morning to Galla is the middle of an afternoon.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

The other woman shrugs, full lips almost in a pout, “Everyone has ambitions. I wonder about yours.”

“If you expect me to name kingdoms, you will be disappointed.”

“I don’t.”

She adverts her gaze, pressing her lips together as she tries to come up with an answer, with a truth that doesn’t have the claw marks of her instinct that begs her to lie.

“Control,” She offers, before scrunching her face at her own words. It sounds wrong. So, she tries explaining, “I want to…for too long my life has been dictated by the choices of others.”

“Yet you follow a foreign woman to a world so far from yours, you accept her as your leader even if you aren’t of her people.”

“I need only have myself to have something to control. I’ve...learned that.”

“Will you tell me you truly do not hunger for more?” Galla insists, before being interrupted by the door opening with what seems to be a kick.

“I will kill Lysander. Mark my words, I will kill that man one day.” You complain loudly as you enter the room, shrugging off the himation with a frustrated grunt that just makes the task much more complicated for you, resulting in a little angry dance as you fight the piece of clothing that Galla snickers at.

Freydis watches you with a small smile on her lips, unable to keep herself from it. Quietly, she answers,

“We all want more.”

She searches your gaze for a few moments, before finding her words.

“If they were here, what would they say?”

“Narses would tell me to hold my ground, to wait for them to attack but ward them off by showing my strength,” You say, eyes unable to leave the blue of the sea as you continue, “Ivar would tell me to raze it all, to attack before they have time to realize I am a threat.”

“Would you do what any of them would tell you to?” She questions, even though she knows the answer.

She sees it in the curve of your mouth, feels it in the chuckle you let out as your head drops to her shoulder, hears it in the breath that leaves you.

“No, I wouldn’t,” You voice finally, quietly. “I would…I will lure them into attacking. They won’t think me a threat, no sane man would think a witch that stumbled her way into being a conqueror can protect a kingdom. When they step too close, we will attack, we will…reclaim.”

It isn’t what that fool you tricked into loving you would have done, for you aren’t standing tall like a man would and daring the world to come and stop you, because the world won’t hesitate to strike down a woman that dares do such a thing.

It isn’t what the man that offered you a heart and a kingdom yet lost you when he couldn’t give you freedom would have done, for you aren’t biting anger and bloodthirst at the helm of an army wanting to bring the world to its knees, because the anger that burns away at you is not one you will let turn you to ashes as well.

It is what you would do, with all the lessons those men and many others have left you with, but, more importantly, what all the lessons the women you have met and loved have left you with.

With your mother’s faith, with Sieghild’s resolve, with Valdís resilience, with Galla’s cunning.

Freydis doesn’t know what lessons, if any, she might have left you with. Yet as time goes by, and you both return to this same place, to this same home that isn’t the stone walls of the temple but something more, something more permanent than that; she realizes she never need leave you with any lesson, much like she refuses to acknowledge any lesson you may leave her with.

Because that would imply that one day you won’t be side by side. If Freydis accepts she leaves you with her loyalty, or her perseverance, then that means she leaves you, and she never would. If you leave her with your pride, or your strength, then there is a world possible where you are lost to her, and that simply cannot be.

I never knew how to handle power alone, you told her. But you never were. Alone, that is.

Her fingers intertwined with yours, her presence at your side, her shoulder for you to lean your head on as you both look ahead at the place where the sky meets the sea; and Freydis hopes you know that, just as she prays quietly, to whatever Gods may here, that neither of you ever know what it is like to be alone again.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it!

I’ll post the epilogue in a week or so, maybe earlier :)

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @angelofthorr​ @samsationalwilson​ @peachyboneless​ @1950schick​ @punkrocknpearls @ietss​​ @itsmysticalmystery​​ @revolution-starter​​ @the-a-word-2214​​ @fae-sedai​​ @crazybunnyladysworld​​   @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​​ @aprilivar​​ @msrawog​

[pixelfun20]

Flower Fields: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Notes: Again, all credit to @give-grian-rights (hope you don’t mind the tag!) for the concept! Thank you so much! Also almost forgot to post this on Tumblr rip.

No fighting wars, no ringing chimes

We're just feeling fine

Tubbo started out by building his starter base.

It was a concept he’d learned about while living with Xisuma, and it was quite a good one, too. After all, megabases worthy of Hermitcraft’s admittedly lofty standards often took months to build, and he’d need somewhere to live in the meantime. In Season 6, he’d neglected that fact, and had suffered his fair share of mob deaths before he put up four walls and a ceiling to protect himself, back when he’d left to live on his own. And that was with a small, quickly-thrown together base, not the project he was currently planning.

Still, even setting up the basics of his starter base took a few nearly sleepless days. Finally, the framework for the build, a treehouse spanning more than a few trees at the edge of the forest, was up, and Tubbo was finally able to place a bed down in safety and sleep for a solid fourteen hours straight.

Xisuma dropped by, quite literally, a day or so later.

Tubbo had been sitting in his quickly-expanding living room, sorting through the loot he’d gotten from yesterday’s day-long mining session when he swooped down through the half-finished roof. While he was still wearing his bee-themed armor, now there were two glider-like wings, shimmering purple, strapped to his back.

“Heya, X,” Tubbo greeted the admin with a wave, closing one of his chests. “You got elytra already?”

“Tango and I defeated the Ender Dragon yesterday,” Xisuma replied, touching down softly. Tubbo made an ‘ah’ sound, recalling the achievement he’d seen out of the corner of his eye the other day. Right; he’d forgotten about that. Trust X to be as efficient as possible and defeat one of the toughest monsters in the world just for the ease of travel.

“I’ll have to go endbusting soon, then,” he said, more to himself than X. Before the elder man could protest (ah, he was getting good at noticing when he was going to), he added: “Stress and xB have already asked me to go with them, so don’t worry , alright?”

“Good,” Xisuma sighed. “It’s never a good idea to go out on your own, especially since this’ll be your first time seriously exploring the End.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes good naturedly. To be fair, he hadn’t gone out to the End before it had been conquered before. He’d had a fair few trips last Season, mostly with X, but it was generally for the XP farm once it’d been set up. He’d never left the main island before. Now that he had considerably more freedom at the beginning of the Season, he was excited to go exploring.

“Anything bring you over?” He asked, changing the subject.

Xisuma nodded. “Yeah. A bunch of the others are getting together for some sort of wrestling tournament this weekend.”

“And I’ve been invited?!” He grinned, clapping his hands together.

“As the referee.”

“Ah,” he pouted. “Darn.”

“Don’t worry,” Xisuma chuckled, setting down a shulker box. “It can be a lot funner to watch sometimes; I’m just going to be part of the audience, too. I think Doc wanted you because he thinks he can bribe you.”

“He can not !”

Xisuma raised an eyebrow. “Area 77.”

“Oh, that’s not fair. I am completely unbiased!”

“And that was why you became their lawyer and not for all the cool experiments they had. I don’t think Cleo has forgiven you for defeating her in court.”

“No one can defeat Big Law,” Tubbo sniffed, faux-offended, and Xisuma laughed. “Well, I’ll show him!” He declared, crossing his arms. “I’ll just have to make sure he loses, then!” Xisuma blinked, and he laughed. “Kidding! Kidding!” Mostly .

“So you’re going?”

“Sure! It’s nice to see the Hermits all in one place, anyways. What’s in the shulker?”

Xisuma tilted his head teasingly. “What do you think? Someone had to get the supplies for our honey farm.”

Tubbo gaped. “You’re ready to build farms already?! Man, and I thought I was ahead of the game with just having my base halfway done.”

The armored man shrugged, looking about the partially completed build. “Well, you’ve certainly put more effort into this than me. Truly, your building skills are already improving. I love how you’re styling the roof with peaks like you are; it looks like it took a while.”

“My last house had a roof like that, too,” Tubbo reminded him, glancing up as well. It had become a tradition, of sorts, to build curved, peaked roofs onto his builds. Last season it had been one of the few things he’d built slowly to make look as good as possible. In all honesty, it was his own way of honoring the person who’d made it possible for him to come here, to have a life worth living once again. Rushing through the technique just felt disrespectful.

“Yes, but you’ve definitely gotten better.” Xisuma bent down over the shulker box, checking its contents. “Do you have any good ideas for where to make the bee farm? I’ll admit, I’ve been a bit too busy to scout out a good area.”

“Really? Then where’d you get these guys?”

“Tree farming in the desert.”

Tubbo snorted into his hand, and he could practically feel Xisuma’s embarrassment. “Well, you did say you hadn’t scouted out a good spot.”

“Indeed I did.”

“I can take a look around here and see what I can find. Meadows are supposed to be excellent places for farming bees, right?”

“Indeed it is,” Xisuma agreed. “Do you have plans for your megabase, yet?”

Tubbo nodded, grinning. “And trust me, it’s going to be awesome .”

............

Two days later, a chicken appeared in his base. Tubbo found it laying an egg in what was starting to become the base’s storage area, with one of his shirts nearly ripped to shreds in what appeared to be a makeshift nest.

There was a nametag wrapped around its leg. After some chicken wrangling and a few feathers to the face, he got a good look at it and realized there wasn’t a name written there, but a set of coordinates.

A set of coordinates rather far away, but who was he to turn down such an intriguing mystery?

With the chicken now renamed Wilbur and placed in a pen (he’d needed a chicken farm anyways), Tubbo set out that morning with a few supplies to find the spot he was looking for. After crossing a fair bit of forest and ocean, by the next day he’d found himself cutting his way through the underbrush of an overgrown jungle and wondering why in the world Stress had wanted to wait a week before going to get their elytra.

He pushed a few low-hanging vines out of the way, checking his communicator for the upteenth time. He was getting closer, now. This better be worth going out a few hundred chunks in the middle of nowhere—hey, wait a minute!

There was smoke in the distance. He could just make it out through the leaves, and now that he concentrated, he could smell it, too. Tubbo rushed forwards, pushing through the brush to see several man-made wooden pillars sticking out. As he pressed forwards, he made out a semi-stone floor, several chests, and a small fire in the middle, explaining the smoke.

“What is this?” He asked himself, looking around the place. The coordinates were right, and yet no one was here. Just this outpost in the middle of the jungle.

Tubbo walked around. There were some papers pinned to the wall, and a few dispensers lying around. Idly he pressed the buttons on them, already starting to form a plan to enact revenge on whoever made him travel over a day to get this place.

He pressed the button on the dispenser in the middle of the build and nearly got an arrow to the face.

Tubbo yelped, his reflexes, honed from a half year of training, the only thing saving him from a sudden death. A bell rang behind him, but it took him a few more moments to calm his racing heart.

“Not funny! You nearly took my head off!” He shouted to the jungle. Still, he didn’t leave, instead turning to the bell the arrow had his, examining it. Huh.

There were some cookies in one of the chests, probably left behind by whoever had actually built the place. He nibbled on it, only half hungry, as he tried to examine the place better.

“HERMIT CHALLENGES!”

Tubbo shrieked , dropping the remains of his cookie as the voice rang through the forest air. He looked around, trying to find the source, but found that he couldn’t.

“INITIATION!”

A diamond-clad figure dropped out of the vines above, landing with a firm thud on one of the ground dispensers. He nearly lost his balance before righting himself with a huff.

“Mumbo!” Tubbo exclaimed, a little annoyed but mostly impressed.

“INITIATION!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “HERMIT CHALLENGES! YOU ARE BEING INDUCTED.”

“How long have you been up there?! It took me over a day to get here.”

“No matter, Mr. Tubbo! Congratulations! You’re in!”

“...Thanks?”

“Of course, my friend! You have been inducted into Hermit Challenges! Of course, you could have eaten the entire cookie—” he glanced down at the crumbs at Tubbo’s feet. “But besides that you have acted perfectly.”

“Wait, what is Hermit Challenges?” Tubbo asked, blinking. What? This version of Mumbo was almost nothing like the Mumbo he’d seen at Spawn a mere week and a half ago. Who used chickens to deliver messages? Or perch in a tree for supposed hours on end?

Okay, he had to admit, that last one was pretty funny.

“Oh, it’s a game I’ve made up,” Mumbo continued. “Iskall and I have already had a go at it, and I figured I’d invite you next.”

“...Alright, then. How do I play?”

“It’s simple! Write down three challenges and put them in the dispenser. Then we’ll pick one at random from each other.”

Mumbo reached into one of the chests on the ground, taking out a sheath of paper and passing three to him with a pen. Tubbo looked at him, and Mumbo grinned.

“Go on! I’m sure you’ll have something fun in that head of yours.”

Ah, he was right. Tubbo gave in with a smile, leaning back and thinking briefly about what he wanted to challenge Mumbo. A few ideas came to mind, and he quickly scribbled them down, pushing them into one of the two dispensers on the side of the small build, Mumbo doing the same.

“Alright, then!” Mumbo announced with a smile. “You go first.”

Tubbo stepped towards Mumbo’s dispenser and clicked the button, causing a slip of paper to slide out. He unrolled it, then read it out loud.

“‘Steal everyone’s front doors for the rest of the season.’ What? The whole season?!”

Mumbo laughed. “Oh, that one! Man, you got the hardest one from me!”

“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you’ll get from me.”

“We’ll see,” Mumbo said with a chuckle.  He moved across the platform, and pressed the button the dispenser Tubbo had put his challenges in. The dispenser whirred, and then another slip of paper popped out. Mambo picked it up and read off of it, face contorting as he did so. “...‘Act like you don’t believe in the moon for the next two weeks, and claim the sky is a hologram put up by the SCA (Secret Chickens Agency) to keep us from seeing the real overlords- the sky chickens.’ What?”

Tubbo snickered at that, covering his mouth with one hand. Oh, he was proud of that one.

“No, seriously, this is awfully specific.”

“What? It’s funny!”

“Funny for you!” But Mumbo was smiling, and Tubbo grinned back at him.

“I’m going to be having a fun few weeks,” he giggled.

“So am I,” Mumbo agreed with a raised eyebrow, tucking the slip of paper away. He clapped Tubbo’s shoulder. “I suppose I’ll have to make up a good story to go with this prompt.”

“And I have some doors to steal!” Tubbo laughed.

“Whoever gets the first complaint in chat wins?”

“You’re on!”

[five-miles-over]

‘Aftermath’ Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky (Commodus x OC)

Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here

Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here

Read Part 3: Point of No Return here

Read Part 4: Look Down here

Summary: While in the palace, Caesonia ponders about her own test of courage and fidelity to her father. Meanwhile, Commodus finds himself attracted to his Pink Fairy when he learns about her past.

Warning: angst, obsession, and also a bit of fluff at the end.

People should know when they’ve been conquered, her father used to say. Caesonia looked out of her tiny window, watching the orange and yellow rays fall from the concrete and presumably into the horizon. Of course, when he said those words, he usually referred to Germanic barbarians, not young women.

Caesonia’s fingers dawdled near the cold wall, tracing abstract patterns against the grey material. Didn’t philosophers used to call life one big prison that houses all men? They spoke of a metaphorical one, while she was in a real one.

That wasn’t to say that her prison was akin to a cell in the palace’s dungeon - it was a bit more spacious and she had a blanket to cover herself with. Would you be proud of me, father? Being a dutiful citizen and serving my sentence as I must?, Caesonia thought longingly. Or have I disappointed you being a meek coward this whole time?

All Caesonia had ever wanted was to make her father satisfied to call her his progeny, despite never being the son he so desperately craved for. Perhaps he would’ve agreed that she did the right thing by remaining in her prison day after day. She didn’t seem to be giving the emperor or his guards any sort of trouble, and for a month, all was well.

Yet being the daughter of a general, had she failed the test of courage by never daring to escape her cell? Surely one of bravery would have done so, swearing to defy the emperor’s orders and fight back. The window was small, but she could’ve squeezed through and jumped out of it. Whether she would survive the three-story fall was a secondary question, but at least she would be free.

Ever since that Spaniard gladiator had arrived in the city, it seemed fashionable to defy the emperor - anyone who followed his orders was considered a weakling or a fool. Being a young lady, Caesonia never needed to worry about whom to side with; ever since she’d come of age, her father never encouraged her to delve into politics.

However, things were different now with the recent…change in dynamics. The emperor was back in power, and the Senate now in disarray, but the people were still deciding whom to give their loyalty to. From the conversations she could overhear in her cell, not even the servants were sure of their true allegiance. Only time could truly tell who would win this ultimate battle of leadership.

Her thoughts were adjourned by an announcement from a guard. “The Emperor of Rome is on his way, prisoner!” His declaration was interrupted by a quick slap. “How dare you call her merely a prisoner?” The voice was none other than that of Commodus’s. “She is a lady and must be addressed as such.”

Caesonia straightened herself, adjusting her toga so that she may be presentable before him. She saw him coming towards her, bearing a piece of pink cloth in one of his hands. Narrowing her eyes closer, she recognized it as her pink cloth - it was from the dress she wore to witness the Spaniard fight His Majesty.

The guards parted for him. “Good evening, my lady,” Emperor Commodus lowered his head for her, a rare honor for anyone, let alone a prisoner. “Good evening, your Highness,” she curtsied before him, her lower lip quivering as her eyes met his.

“Do you by any chance know of this, Lady Caesonia?” He offered her the cloth.

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Yes, it looks similar to a piece of a dress that I own. Except, my cloth was stained with dirt and blood; the one you are holding, Caesar, is clean.”

Commodus, relieved that he truly knew whom his Pink Fairy was, signalled for the guards to let her out into the halls. “I had the laundresses clean it, my lady. Would it displease you if I asked you to walk with me tonight?”

“Not at all, your Highness.”

He hummed in agreement, going outside of the palace and into one of the gardens in the southern wing. Surrounded by various species of roses, narcissi, and gladioli, it was quite the colorful ensemble. And in the center, there was a large fountain with water spouting from a statue of Augustus, the first Roman emperor in history.

It was quite dark, with the sky being surrounded by nothing but black, velvety clouds. Yet, the starlight and the faint glow from the palace was enough luminescence for them to see each other.

The emperor invited her to sit next to him on the marble bench. Noticing her silence, Commodus softly asked her. “Do I scare you, Lady Caesonia?”

“No. This is not the first time we have met, your Highness.”

“Where have we met before?”

“In Germania, Highness. I came along with my father on his battles.”

Commodus raised an eyebrow at the idea of a young girl being brought to a battefield, especially one of nobility. “But why? Surely a girl like you would’ve been entrusted to her mother at home. A battle camp is no place for a young lady.”

Caesonia closed her eyes for a moment. “My mother died during childbirth, Caesar. And I had no siblings.”

“My condolences to your mother,” the emperor nodded.

“Thank you, Caesar,” she forced a small smile.

“Did your father teach you to fight?”

“He did when I was young - until I was twelve, everyone called me Cassius Quintii,” her eyes twinkled under the indigo sky as she narrated. “I was raised as a boy, and I fought like any soldier’s son.”

“And then what happened?”

Caesonia continued, “My armor…my armor became too tight for my chest, and my father knew why. He stopped teaching me, and started leaving me in the company of various ladies present - concubines, noble ladies, and even…” Her voice faltered, hesitating to mention Lady Lucilla.

“My sister, no?” Commodus finished, “She used to leave you in my care and go off to speak with her lover.”

Looking further at Caesonia, the memory suddenly came back to him. When he came to Germania hoping to speak with his father about his succession and eventual coronation, he was given a girl to watch over. It was utterly humiliating, him - a prince - being brought to a battlefield to baby-sit. Until his father’s letter describing the four virtues, he thought there was no clearer of a way for his father to convey his opinion about Commodus.

Caesonia added, “All I’ve wanted was to please my father, but I think he’s still angry that I was never the son he wanted…and that I took away the chance of him having another child.”

“And yet you still plead for his life in court even though he made yours uncomfortable?”

“I love him nonetheless, and I think he deserves to live. Perhaps that was my mistake.” Caesonia looked down, placing her hands in her lap.

His expression softening, Commodus gently stroked her cheek, causing her to turn towards him. With those same fingers, he lifted her chin and brought his lips to hers. Caesonia held his forearm to steady herself as she attempted to reciprocate his kiss, having never experienced such intimacy before. She did not want to be punished for refusing him and she was afraid of angering the emperor with her boldness, but her touch only captivated him.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, lowering her onto the marble delicately as if she were made of glass. Commodus marveled at her submissiveness, having never felt so much power in his arms as he did in that moment. Her eyelids lowered and her lips parted slightly when he climbed on top of her, the heavy weight of his armor crushing her chest. He captured her lips again, and felt her arms encircle his broad shoulders.

As their kiss deepened, her muted sighs only strengthened a new desire surging through his veins. It was far too different than merely lust, Commodus thought, it was almost a feeling of jealousy, or hunger perhaps. In that moment, he was ready to kill anyone who tried to claim her, or touch her, or snatch her away from him. She needed to be his and only his.

Gasping for air, the two of them broke apart too soon for either’s liking, still lingering in each other’s embrace. It had felt like an eternity passed before the emperor rose from the bench. Commodus suppressed a chuckle as he watched Caesonia’s knees buckle when she tried to stand up. Lovingly, he wrapped the cloth around her neck like a scarf and strode away from the bench. Walking five steps behind him, she followed him out of the garden and into the palace.

The emperor could not help but glance behind as they made their way through the halls. She looked ethereal among the light of the torches. Her smooth hair and her cheekbones called to his fingers, clamoring for his caress. It was taking every fiber of his being not to roughly push her against the palace walls and kiss her again until they were both breathless.

He stopped before another empty bedroom, seemingly much more comfortable, and spoke to the guard, instructing him to keep her here for the time being. “Good night, Lady Caesonia,” he bent down to kiss her hand.

“Good night, Caesar. Thank you for your benevolence,” she nodded in return.

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

The next morning, Caesonia rose from her bed to find a plate of pink-bottled perfumes and creams, along with a little rouge, by her bedside. Perhaps a maid must’ve placed it while I slept, she thought. In the midst of the cosmetics, there was a folded piece of parchment. Carefully, she unfolded the note and read,

“If you ever asked me if I’d seen a rose blooming from another rose,

My reply would be yes, for my eyes have been blessed by one of those.

On the night your soft, finely curved lips met mine,

I witnessed your rosy cheeks bloom from that rose-like face of thine.”

[darknessisafriend]

The world will be ours Part 1

Commodus x Reader 

@stellargirlie your request and as I am super inspired it will be in several parts ;) 

You are the heir of a kindgom  conquered by Rome. To strenghen its bound to the Empire, the Emperor has made an offer your family can’t refuse... you will marry his son Commodus, but you are scared of him and he doesn’t want to marry

you, but Rome is hostile to Commodus reign, what will be your role in this, will you learn to love each other? 

You were the only child of a very powerful warlord in the Kingdom of Gallia, now under the Authority of Rome. It didn’t bother you, your family still had a certain rank within the roman society, and they brought so many things like the beautiful architecture, better trade and stability. Everyone was united under Rome, no more battle for a herd of cows or any other small offenses; of course some were opposed to Rome in your clan but not you. You smiled to yourself, to make it clear your life was perfect, you were safe and happy with your parents, you didn’t need anything else. But the peace didn’t last, those who disapproved of Rome created rebellions, bringing roman legions to your doors, until that day…

“Father? You wanted to see me?” you asked him curious as to why he wanted to see you so late in the night. You frowned as you saw him pacing in the room, pacing a trembling hand through his hair, you mother was there too, what was she doing here? As he saw you, your father approached you, taking your hand in his, your mother came standing next to him, putting her hand on your forearm, no this wasn’t a good sign.

“My darling daughter…you are my greatest pride and I would do anything in my power to protect you…” you grew worried, this wasn’t like him to start a sentence like this, what happened?

“The rebellions are making the Emperor upset, he doesn’t want it to grow into a war with our kingdom…I received an envoy from Rome…we have to strengthen our friendship with the Empire.” He paused letting you process what he had just implied, you looked at him in the eyes, then at your mother, no it couldn’t be…

“You give me to him!?” you exclaimed, fear gaining your whole body, he wasn’t a bad emperor, he had a good reputation, but he was old, and you didn’t know him, you didn’t love him or anything of the sort.

“Not to him my daughter, to his son Lucius Aurelius Commodus.” Your mother added, a compassionate expression on her face. You looked around feeling betrayed by your own family, the son was probably a worse decision.

“Please father no…”

“We have to, we have to maintain peace and good relationship with Rome.”

“I thought you cared about me…Commodus isn’t wise, you know it! Father, please I’m begging you don’t do this, he will kill me the second I displease him!” you whimpered tears running down your face, but your father didn’t let go, keeping his face emotionless.

“Then make sure to please him in everyway possible. The matter has already been taken care of. You will be leaving at the end of next week, the Emperor is in a battle a bit farther in the north, when it’s done, Commodus and Lucilla his sister will join him, and you’ll be sent there. It is a great honor for our family.” He spoke trying to prevent his voice from trembling with sadness, but you didn’t care about how he felt, he had sold you without asking you first, and now you had no choice but obey, the future of the kingdom and lives within it were in your hands now.

You clenched your jaw and fled to your bedroom, locking it so nobody would follow you there. You collapsed on your bed, burying your face in your pillow, muffling the sound of your cries.

The following week you barely got out of your quarters, barely eating or even sleeping, simply waiting for this day to come and get this over with.  Suddenly you heard a knock on your door, and someone entering, your turned to see who had entered without your permission. It was your mother, she looked tired, slowly she approached you and sat on the bed, resting her hand on your leg, you didn’t say anything, there was nothing to say.

“The emperor is dead.” She announced, shock was a poor word to describe your surprise, you finally met her eyes.

“So…what is going to happen to me?” you asked, faintly hoping that the marriage would be forgotten.

“Commodus is now Emperor, he will need his wife to support him in his new responsibility…you will be meeting him tomorrow and he will bring you back to Rome with him for a proper ceremony.” She explained to you softly. So you were going to be the wife of an Emperor now, it was indeed a great privilege, you hoped you’d be up to the task, if he doesn’t kill you first…

You didn’t sleep this night, thinking about meeting him, what does he look like?  is he as ruthless as people say? Or worse? Was he going to like you? As the sun started to appear, supervised by your mother, slaves came to help you dress up for the meeting. Your hair were slightly tied up with a tiara, two long strands of hair loose on the sides of your face. You were wearing a white silk stola, perfectly outlining the curves of your body. Your mother smiled, her eyes wet, she cupped your face.

“You are so beautiful my daughter, you are so brave…” tears prickled in your eyes at her words, you hugged her tight.

“You’ll see, I heard Rome is a wonderful place, and I’m sure that the Emperor will treat you well when he’ll see your beauty and kind heart.” She added fondly, kissing your forehead one last time.

You went alone in the carriage, your father on a horse, leading the cortege. A few hours later the horses slowed down, you could hear a lot of noises outside, men talking, horses braying, tools and swords slamming. You were nervous, scared even; you were going to meet him very soon. A legionnaire came to open to you, you got out to see a group of people coming in your direction, you looked at your father for comfort, he gave you an encouraging smile, you took a deep breath and focused your eyes on the people coming to you, there was woman, very well dressed, she was gorgeous, you felt a bit of relief to see a woman, you felt small among all these men and maybe she’ll understand how you feel. Your eyes drifted to the man next her, he had jet black hair, and green eyes so clear and intense, you felt intimidated by his presence and even more when you looked at his clothes and realized he was Commodus, the new Emperor.

You quickly bowed your head in respect, not meeting his eyes. You saw him stop at arm’s length from you.  Still it felt like his closeness was burning you.

“Lucius Aurelius Commodus, Emperor of the Roman Empire, I am honored by your presence.” You spoke your voice lower than you wanted to.

“Y/N daughter of Quincus warlord and hero of Gallia kingdom. I am pleased to meet you.” He spoke in a calm yet authoritative tone as he extended his hand for you to kiss his ring; you softly took his hand, the contact with his skin sending shivers down your spine, your lips coming into contact with the cold metal of his ring.

“You can look at me Y/N” he added his voice amused, you were so nervous that you hadn’t met his eyes and when you did you felt your heart stop, he had so much charisma simply by the way he was standing and looking at you, he didn’t smile though, you hoped it wasn’t because of you.

“Now brother, I think my future sister-in-law needs to rest before our departure tomorrow.” The woman voice said kindly, feeling your distress.

“This my dear sister Lucilla.” Commodus explained, looking at her lovingly, his face relaxing at her view. She smiled at you sweetly and took you by the arm to bring you to your tent.

“Do not worry, my brother can be intimidating but he is a loving man you’ll see.”

“Oh good, he doesn’t look really happy to marry me…” you muttered, uncomfortable at the whole situation.

“It was a surprise for him as well, my dear father told him a few days ago, he wasn’t expecting to have a bride chosen by father…but I’m sure he will come to appreciate you, you seem like a lovely woman to me.” She added nicely, squeezing your hand in reassurance. A small smile formed on your lips, you were glad she was here, you were sure she would become a friend of yours soon and her words on Commodus were reassuring.

That night you had dinner with her, your future husband didn’t join, he had a lot to do as a result of his new status. This gave you time to get to know Lucilla better and you got along with her very well, she told you about her dead husband, her son Lucius; her presence made you almost forget about your family, it was nice to meet a woman like her. After a bit you went back to your tent, tomorrow you will be leaving early to Rome. You took a little walk around the camp, you were getting closer to your tent now, but you suddenly stopped when you recognized the voice of Commodus, he was talking with Lucilla, about you.

“I can’t marry her Lucilla!” he argued.

“Brother, it is the will of our father and the senate, you need someone to take care of you…”

“But why can’t it be you then?” he complained, his voice almost childish.

“Because I am your sister and I can’t take care of you the way a wife would. Besides she will be good to you, I know it…”

“How? She doesn’t know me and is probably not interest to.” He grumbled

“Don’t be so sure brother, her cheeks blushes at the sound of your name and at your sight…She is one of the most kind-hearted women I have met, she’s selfless and that what’s Rome expects from the wife of the Emperor.” You heard Commodus sight in defeat, you pinched your lips together hurt by his words.

“We’ll see about that my dear sister…” he replied, his voice tired. You had heard enough, you felt like a disappointment, you were so worthless that you didn’t manage to capture his interest. You quietly entered your tent, upset that he didn’t see you the way his sister does. You had naively started to hope he would maybe fall in love with you at first sight, he was a beautiful man and when he interacted with his sister, he just looked so caring… maybe it will change… you suddenly felt tired and the moment you landed on your mattress you fell asleep, emotionally exhausted.

The morning after, you left when the sun started to appear, you climbed in the same carriage as Lucilla and Commodus. The space feeling even smaller as he sat next to you, of course he was going out on his horse from time to time, but when he was there you didn’t know what to do or say, and he wasn’t trying either. You didn’t know if he didn’t want to talk to you or if he was being shy, but it took him a few days to talk to you informally.

Lucilla had fallen asleep, you were reading poetry under the candlelight. As for Commodus he was drinking wine, he looked deep in his thoughts. You had gotten used to his presence, his silence, it was almost comforting now.

“What are you reading?” he asked softly, you blinked a few times not sure you had heard him talk, you turned your head to look at him, and he was looking at you expectantly, your heart fluttered, happy to be notice by your future husband.

“Quintus Ennius, the Annals.” You answered shyly, he raised an eyebrow.

“Poems of adventures, heroes and battles…I was expecting someone of your rank to read love poems…” you lowered your eyes, you had disappointed him.

“It’s interesting…did you advise your father in his decisions?” he asked, your head shot up, he was actually interested in hearing more, he had been surprised not disappointed.

“Yes, my mother is doing it too, but my father used to say I had a lot more perspicacity in politics and…I think it’s thrilling, trying to find who is to be your enemy, what will be their next move? Who is to be your ally? How to get people to join your side by other means than violence…” you explained a bit too excited, so you stopped talking waiting to see how he would respond to this. He was still looking at you, he released a smile, one of those he only had for his sister.  

“It is good, I’ve always been a man of action unlike my father…he was studying so much that he often forgot the people. But I won’t, they will see change, and the Roman Empire will be more glorious than ever before.” He declared, his eyes full of passion, you could see he intended on keeping his word, it was truly fascinating, and you were curious of what you will bring to his reign.

You weren’t sure if you had the right to express your views to him, but you felt like he was open to such discussion.

“The empire needs stability more than ever, it will bring peace and economic prosperity, it has been too changing…the senate is unstable, taking one decision and then cancelling it with the changes of senators…” His eyes met yours, surprised, he shifted closer to you.

“Exactly! I want to restore full power to the Emperor, no need for debate or waiting, the people will get what they need, I will bring it to them on a silver plate!” he whispered to you, as if no one should hear it but you, you could tell he was excited to be back in Rome, he wanted to be the best Emperor that has ever walk in this mortal world.

That night, the two of you talked for a long time, you were happy that he had the same political vision as you. With time you grew closer to him, of course not as a lover yet but as a friend, after all it will take 4 weeks to reach Rome, so it left time to talk. Lucilla could feel the change in his attitude towards you, and she was glad, maybe you were what his brother had always needed.

He would offer you wine, spontaneously smile at your sight, he was simply more open to your presence, maybe he started to think of offering his friendship to you. You spent countless nights talking with him, whispering not to awake Lucilla, and you had to admit you were starting to fall for him.

“I feel like I could trust you Y/N…I hope I can.” He had confessed to you one night, you had ignored the silent threat in the last part because he could trust you.

“You can Commodus, I am to be your wife and you my husband, but you are also my Emperor and I would never betray my Emperor…and my friend if one day you honor me with such title.” You answered truthfully, resisting the urge to take his hand to reinforce your words. These words seemed to strike him, he didn’t reply, probably still vigilant, and you didn’t hold it against him, already glad about the progress your relationship had made the past weeks.

You fell asleep not long after this talk, unfortunately you were not conscious to witness him slowly getting up and gently putting a cover on your body so you wouldn’t get cold. He watched you sleep for a few minutes, confused by how he was growing attached to you, it had only been Lucilla before…but not anymore. He lifted his hand and softly brushed the back of his index against your cheek.  

Getting full control of the Empire will be hard and probably deadly, you were not his priority at the moment, but it would be nice to have someone he could trust, love and be loved in return. You will have to prove it to him, prove you’re worthy of him and if not the blade will fall upon you.

If any of you want to be tagged in the next part, ask me !

[flutteringphalanges]

                                        Caught in a Riptide 

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  Hello Dracula fandom again! It's me, ya gal, who has way too many story ideas in her head. Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this one! This first chapter is very heavy on backstory so I promise future chapters won't be like that. I just wanted to set the scene. Alright, here we go! Feedback’s greatly loved and appreciated!-Jen

                                                Chapter One

Theology. Quite an expansive, intriguing study that, like a tree, holds many branches. Biblical, Systemic, Practical, all subjects that have been delved into for centuries. Perhaps one of the more fascinating topics centers around Renaissance theology-more importantly, the possibility of a love bond between man and demon. Outwardly, the aspect of falling in love with something deemed evil is seemingly preposterous. But can a singular trait be forced upon another? At what point can romance, love, conquer these barriers? Is it possible to find humanity in such dark things? These questions must be kept in mind as two unlikely paths cross, testing these uncertain waters. A riptide.

Agatha set down a plate of eggs and bacon onto the table. It was early in the morning-a school day, and getting her niece ready and out the door in time to drop her off before heading into work was a task in itself.

For nearly three years, Zoe had remained under her care. It had been a tragic car accident that took the lives of her brother and sister-in-law, and seeing as they had no other family, Agatha left St. Mary's Convent to take in the seven year old. There were no regrets to be held. The woman dearly loved the child. But returning to society and seeking out a new job had been difficult. That was, until she found the Jonathan Harker Foundation. Or rather, they found her.

"Zoe," she called out, pouring a glass of orange juice. "Come on, we can't afford being late again today."

"I'm hurrying, Aunt Aggie," chirped a voice down the hall. "I was getting dressed!"

A small girl skidded into the kitchen, her mismatched socks causing her to nearly glide into the counter. Agatha grabbed her just in time, the drink in her hand dangerously close to sloshing onto the floor. Zoe peered up at her aunt with bright, blue eyes and a toothy grin. Her hair, the same shade of chestnut brown as her aunt's, still tousled from sleep.

"Were you planning to go into school today with your hair like that?" Zoe merely shrugged, sitting down happily to her breakfast. Agatha snorted softly, her mouth curving into a small smile. "Well, start eating and I'll grab a brush. "We don't want people to think you live in a zoo, yes?"

"I wanna live in a zoo," the child replied, biting into a piece of bacon. "I like animals!"

"Then perhaps we can get a dog one day," the woman chuckled, booping the girl on the nose. "Now finish your food so we can get on the road."

The Van Helsing surname held quite a history to it, the most notable member Abraham Van Helsing. The man was a well accomplished doctor, respected by all who knew him. However, Abraham's interests extended far past the average medical background. In particular, his study and expertise on vampirism. On the infamous Count Dracula of Transylvania.

The legend had been passed down from generation to generation. Tales recounted of the dangerous beast. Yet, as time wore on, the words had become a mere myth. Silly stories meant to scare a child into being good. Nevertheless, Agatha found them truly fascinating. Memorizing. And even the slightest idea that they were possibly true sparked a flame within her.

For those reasons alone, Agatha found herself taking the three vows of a nun and joining St. Mary's Convent. A thirst to learn more by combining her own knowledge and the teachings of Christianity. If her great, great grandfather was correct, then her efforts would not be in vain. That she wouldn't seem so air-headed as her brother had claimed from the beginning when she invested everything into proving Abraham's legacy.

It was only years later that she finally found the one thing that tied the loose ends. The Jonathan Harker Foundation. The very institution that was right under her nose. An organization that shared the same ideals to her cause. If only she had learned about the mysterious medical facility with an underground secret from the start, how different things might've been.

Agatha pulled up to the curb in front of the primary school watching as other children hopped out of their cars and headed towards the main entrance like a school of fish. In her rear view mirror, she caught sight of Zoe freeing herself from the confines of her seat belt, humming a nonsensical tune she'd just come up with.

"Do you have your backpack?" Her aunt inquired as the little girl swung it over her shoulders. "Lunch box?"

"Mhm," Zoe nodded, gripping the fabric handle of the floral decorated bag. "I made sure not to forget anything this time!"

"Good girl," Agatha smiled. She really didn't want to have to rush out of another meeting due to a call from the school that she'd forgotten to bring her food. "Kisses." Zoe gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Remember Mrs. Avery will be picking you up today."

"But I don't want to go to Mrs. Avery's," the girl whined. "She makes me watch The Price is Right and it's so boring!"

"Maybe she'll have cookies," the woman replied. "You like her cookies."

"I guess," Zoe answered, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. "You won't forget to pick me up?"

"I promise as soon as I get off, I will head straight over there," Agatha said with a smile. "Before dinner. I'll make something nice. Say...pizza?"

The young girl seemed to perk up a bit. "Okay!"

"Now run along, I'll see you later," she said as the child opened the car door. "I love you."

"Love you too!" Zoe called out as she exited the car. "Don't forget me!"

Forget. The more Agatha thought about it, the more it stung. Zoe had only just turned four when her parents died. She, of course, had still been in Budapest at the time, unaware until a few days later when someone finally contacted her. Apparently the girl had been in nursery school when the wreck happened. She'd watched all of the other children go home, confused as to where her mother and father were. Hours she spent there, waiting to be picked up. Believing that perhaps her they had forgotten her. Abandoned her. Zoe had been forced to learn about death early on. Something no child should ever have to face.

It had been rough, those first few months together. She and Zoe hadn't exactly been well acquainted, seeing as the former nun lived in Budapest while she called England home. Agatha didn't have a lot of experience with children and it showed in the beginning. Things were awkward. She didn't know popular shows, toys, activities, but she tried her damnedest. For Zoe. And with time and the compassion she held, the two eventually grew very close. After all, they were the only family each other had.

The parking lot outside of the institution was semi filled as Agatha, finding her usual shady spot, fished her identification badge out of her purse. She frowned at the photo on the key card, noting how ridiculous wide and unnatural her smile was. Why couldn't she ever get a decent picture right? Shaking her head, she exited the vehicle and headed inside.

"Good morning, Joe," Agatha smiled, nodding her head. "Ted."

The two lobby guards looked up from their hot drinks, their attention turning to the woman. Things had been slow, relatively speaking. Not much excitement had happened since Agatha became a part of the Foundation. Which, she supposed, in a way was good. But she craved true confirmation of Dracula's existence. A need to have real, physical evidence on top of everything she'd gathered from her own exploration.

The long stretch of hallway leading through the locked doors and into the belly of the building was rather bare. Except for a single portrait-that of Jonathan Harker. He had a kind face, soft expression that was welcoming. And yet, each time she came across it and gave it a hard stare, something didn't sit right. A strange, unsettling feeling that despite the friendliness of it was almost off putting.

"Agatha!"

Just as the former nun began to slide her card through the reader, a young man hurried up to her. Dr. Jack Seward. He, like her, had been hired around the same time by the Foundation. Fresh out of medical school, Jack was a brilliant man paired with a caring heart. She thought very fondly of him, almost as if he were a younger brother.

"Hello, Jack," she greeted. "I thought you were taking the day off today. Weren't you supposed to visit an old friend…" she paused. "Lucy was it?"

The man visibly flinched and Agatha was momentarily taken aback. Had she said something wrong? Before she could ask, or rather, apologize, another researcher came bursting through the set of doors. Very winded. Very excited. Meg.

"Oh, thank god," she panted. "You're finally here!"

"I didn't think I was running late," the former nun replied almost hesitantly, glancing over at Jack. "Did we have a meeting or…"

"No," Meg waved her hand, shaking her head. "No, we found something! Off of the mainland!" The researcher's smile was wide, a look of excitement that one does not usually see that early in the morning. "They sent out a team! They found it, Agatha!"

"Found what exactly?" She still wasn't quite following the other woman. "What did they find, Meg?"

"The Demeter! The wreckage! We bloody found it!"

For well over a century, The Harker Foundation had been searching for the vessel. It was believed, as a few survivors claimed, that Count Dracula had been one of the passengers onboard the ship set for England. But disaster struck, and mayhem with it, and the boat never made it to port. No one had known of its final location. Until now.

"What?!" Agatha asked in disbelief. "Are you-are they quite sure?!"

"It bloody says The Demeter on the side of it," Meg laughed. "I don't know what else it could be!"

She might as well have been a child on Christmas morning. Finally something. Evidence. A missing puzzle piece to it all. Someone was laughing and it took Agatha a moment to realize the noise was coming from her.

"What else have they found?! Any indication of Count Dracula? Are you currently in contact with them?" Agatha began to bombard the poor woman with questions. "Is Bloxham out there?"

"It's been over thirty minutes since they last radioed in," Meg responded. "Bloxham says they don't exactly know the extent of it. But they've begun to put markers down. The news is calling for a storm, so we might be forced to come in early and return tomorrow."

A storm. One hundred and twenty three years since The Demeter disaster and they were going to let a bloody storm step in their way of searching? The corners of Agatha's mouth twitched into a frown and suddenly she found herself wishing she was out there along with them. Her impatience was not allowing her to rationally consider the safety of it all. What exactly did the ship hold? And more importantly, where was Dracula?

"I want to be kept updated," she finally said, in the same firm voice she used to scold Zoe. "If anything happens, even the most minute detail, I want to be made aware."

Meg gave her a nod. "I'll keep you posted," she promised.

"Thank you," Agatha smiled, turning to Jack. "I suppose this is one for the books."

As the day wore on, the former nun's restlessness only grew as she anxiously awaited for any word from Bloxham and the rest of the crew. To distract herself, she tried to focus on her notes. It didn't help much, but at least it was something. Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see it was nearly time for her to pick Zoe up. As much as she didn't want to go, she knew she must.

"Please keep me posted," Agatha said, gathering all of her things from off her desk. "I don't care if it's the middle of the night, wake me up."

"They'll be coming back in soon enough," Jack said, grabbing her key card before it fell to the floor. "I'm sure you won't miss anything."

"Nevertheless, I want to be in the loop," she replied, exhaling as she adjusted her belongings in her arms. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jack. Hopefully we'll have something."

Not in a million years would she have believed that her research on Count Dracula would've gone this far. Upon moving to England with Zoe, she wasn't quite sure what to expect until the day she received the life altering phone call. Evidently, it wasn't just Abraham Van Helsing who'd been hellbent on studying Count Dracula. Even more surprising was that he was at least aware of the construction of the institution and its purpose.

Bloxham had been the one to reach out to Agatha expressing her condolences. It was clear, though, that her intentions went further than mere well wishes. According to the head researcher, the Foundation had first contacted her brother, who immediately turned them down. He'd never believed in the existence of vampires and found the institution just as absurd as his sister. It was only when the former nun agreed to a position, that the Harker Foundation finally had a Van Helsing heir.

Agatha walked up to the front door of the tiny, blue house and wrapped three times. Almost immediately, it swung open and Zoe through her arms around her aunt's waist. She acted as if she hadn't seen the woman in years, much less a few hours. Old Mrs. Avery had just made it to the door by the time the little girl had grabbed her belongings.

"Aunt Aggie, I missed you," she exclaimed. "You didn't forget me!"

"I'd never forget you," Agatha smiled, patting the top of her head. "Were you good for Mrs. Avery?"

"She was very well behaved," the older woman smiled. "Why, we five episodes of The Price is Right together! I've never met someone who enjoyed it as much as I do."

"There were cookies," Zoe explained. "Can we go?"

"Tell Mrs. Avery thank you first," the former nun instructed, giving the other woman a smile. "Thank you, Jane."

"Of course. Anytime, Agatha," Mrs. Avery replied. "She's always a joy to have."

Zoe sang loudly, and off key to a pop song in the back seat as Agatha drove them home. At least she seemed to be in a pretty good mood. By the time she started dinner, the sun had already begun to set over the horizon.

"James Hopkins blew milk out of his nose today," her niece informed her as Agatha set a plate in front of her. "It was pretty cool. But then he got in trouble."

"Well I certainly hope you won't try doing the same," she exhaled, joining her at the table. "Did anything else happen today?"

"Hm…" Zoe pondered. "I painted in art!"

"Oh? What did you paint?"

"A toad," she answered, taking a bite out of her pizza. "I glued googly eyes to it."

Just as Agatha opened her mouth to reply, her cell phone rang. Excusing herself, she stood up and retrieved the device from where it sat on the counter. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw the name on the screen. Jack Seward.

"Jack?"

"Zoe," came the voice on the other line. "They found him. They found Count Dracula."

[quixotic-writer]

Kitchen Nightmare

Requested by: @gionline

Summary: Sal tries to prove to Q that he can learn how to cook, so for a date night Sal promises to whip up a meal for the two of them. With his ego high, Sal doesn’t realize he bit off more than he can chew.

———————————————————

“I can do this, Guy Fieri believes in me.” Sal says as he gathers all the ingredients on the counter. Quarantine was finally easing up and both Q and Sal felt as though it was okay to visit each other again in person without Sal wanting to shit a brick over the thought of either of them carrying unwanted germs. They finally decided on a date night tonight and Sal offered to cook so they didn’t have to go out. This naturally took Q by surprise and Sal was determined to prove Q wrong and that he can cook.

They both had decided and agreed on breakfast food, Sal would have made his infamous griddled peanut butter and jelly but he knew how Q felt about peanut butter. So after a little brainstorming, he settled on making omelettes for the two of them with hash-browns. Simple and easy, it’s gonna be very hard to screw this up. He dusted off the apron Joe had gotten him years ago as a joke gift and put it on wanting to fit the role, and Sal had to admit the apron boosted his confidence in a strange way. He finally felt like he fit the role and as though he could conquer the challenge.

He double checked the time and confirmed that dinner should be ready by the time Q had arrived. He decided it was time to get cooking and put his skills to the test.

He had his phone out on the counter and he read and re-read the recipes Guy had sent over to him to the point where he was sure he had it memorized step by step. He pulled out the potatoes, rinsed them off, peeled them, used the grater to get the thin strips, soaked them and dried them off.

“See Sal, you’re practically a chef already. You can do this!” He speaks positivity unto himself as he feels his confidence shoot through the roof and grins from ear to ear. He ducks down and cluttered through his pots and pans cabinet and finds a pan for the hash browns and another to cook the omelettes on the stove. He cranks up the heat on the stove and continues working, “Butter in, melt that bitch, and potatoes in. Let that sit and I can start my omelette!”

He turns around and grabs a bowl, his eggs, and the add ins. Feeling full of himself, he swiftly grabs an egg and hits it on the side of the bowl.

“Shit!” He hit the egg too hard not being mindful of his own strength and now it’s spilling all over the counter with yolk seeping down onto the floor. In a panic he quickly grabs paper towels to rid the area of the evidence of his mistake. With the area cleaned up, he attempts again, but cracks the egg just a little softer this time. He carefully cracks it open and the egg spills perfectly into the bowl with some egg shell accidentally sneaking its way in. “Crap.” He curses to himself as he takes his hand to take out the annoying bits of imperfection, he keeps fishing around the egg whites but the shells keep escaping his grasp as he grows increasingly frustrated at the time he’s losing.

Finally after cleaning that mistake up, his nose starts to fill with the scent of burning food, he whips his head around and sees a light grey cloud of smoke rising from the hash browns that were still cooking on the stove. In a frenzy he runs back over to the stove and flips the burning potatoes to see his worst fear: a mistake he couldn’t fix. The hash browns were a lot more than just brown on the bottom, they were as dark as the color on the pan and he knew he couldn’t salvage that piece of the meal. He places the pan back on the stove off the heat and sighs in defeat knowing he doesn’t have enough time to redo them.

“You know what, that’s okay. Still have the eggs!” Going back to the eggs, he sighs but isn’t quite yet defeated. He continues to stir in green onions, diced tomatoes, and a little sprinkle of cheese. As he whisked it all together he went back to the stove and in the other pan poured in the new made concoction. As the mixture touched the hot pan it made a sizzle sound. The scent of all the ingredients danced together perfectly to create a fresh smell that overtook the previously lingering charred scent of the burnt hash browns.

With his mood slowly taking a better turn again, Sal hummed away as he watched the omelette cook with spatula in hand. As he was distracted by what seemed to be his first successful attempt at cooking something outside of his comfort zone, Q had managed to quietly find his way into the house. As soon as he entered he was hit with a mixture of pleasant and unpleasant smells.

“No fuckin’ way.” He finds himself wandering more into the quiet house to investigate. As he got closer to the kitchen, the scent of food got stronger and stronger and made Q’s mouth water. The moment he turned the corner into the kitchen he saw Sal at the stove smiling and humming away with that stupid apron on. Though a little ridiculous and a bit extra for the occasion, Q still found it absolutely adoring that Sal took the extra step into the role. “Well look at you!” Q says loudly interrupting Sal’s focus. Sal jumps out of his skin at the sound of Q’s voice. Being halfway through flipping the omelette, his arms flail frantically sending the last remaining piece of his meal down to the floor with a ‘splat.’

“Brian! Don’t do that shit.” Q’s hand was over his mouth and he felt a wave of shame and guilt as he stared at the food that was now resting at their feet.

“I’m sorry babe, I didn’t think I would scare you that bad.” He kneels down and helps Sal clean up the mess. Sal was notably quiet and Q knew he messed up when he didn’t mean to. “I’m sorry you must have worked hard on this.”

“Bri. I tried, I really did. I just wanted to make you a nice meal after not being able to see you for so long. It all just went wrong.” Sal says defeated and 100% over cooking. Q looks over to the counter to see some left over ingredients, enough to make a whole new meal. As Sal stood over the trash can to dispose of the remains of his messy cooking attempt, Q grabs Sal’s waist and looks him in his sad hazel eyes.

“Hey, let’s try this again together. Don’t give up, it’s just a little learning curve. Besides that last mistake was entirely my fault anyway.” Q gathers up the materials and Sal smiles to him a little.

Together in the kitchen, Sal led and Q followed. The prep was twice as fast and this time Sal made sure to be aware of his surroundings and also to keep his eye on whatever is cooking on the stove. Soon they were sat at the table eating dinner and talking about their time in quarantine, poking fun at the other’s unruly outward appearance after going months without a hair cut and a shave. When their meal had come to an end they cuddled up on the couch stealing soft kisses from each other.

“I want you to know, chef Sal, that was pretty good for what I assume is your first attempt at something that isn’t a griddled PB and J.” Sal was all giddy and couldn’t stop smiling and the small compliment from his lover.

“Well it wasn’t just me, it was you too Chef Q who came in to save dinner.” Q rolls his eyes, he was never really good at taking compliments but it did make him feel good since it came from Sal.

“I hope this means maybe you’ll be cooking more often?” Q purposely avoids eye contact with Sal, focusing only on the TV to avoid laughing. But he can’t help it as the edges of his lips upturn slightly and he look to Sal who has a look of scorn that only made it harder for Q not to smile.

“Glad you think it’s funny Brian.” Guess that answered that then.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Twenty-One: Whispering ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]

“Did you hear…?”

“They say the princess was kidnapped.”

“By her own servant, no less!”

“I knew it was unwise to have a mage so close to the royal family…”

“There will surely be a ransom!”

“Whatever will the king do?”

“He has another daughter, you know…”

“You don’t mean to suggest…?”

“Shh, you never know who might be listening…!”

Pretending to fiddle the cinch of his horse’s saddle, Sasuke listens to the whispering. Ever since the princess disappeared, there have been all shades of rumors, and there’s no truly knowing just how much is fact, and how much fiction.

But he has a plan…

“Ready to go?”

“Of course. Just sampling the latest gossip.”

“Anything new?”

“No, the same old stories...kidnapping, ransom, magic…”

“Well, if it’s been repeated so often, there may be grains of truth to it.”

“Here’s hoping - I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like rescuing a princess just for the fun of it. I’d much rather have a sack of gold than a king’s good graces.”

Itachi can’t help a chuckle as he mounts his horse. “In an ideal world, we’ll have both.”

“I prefer to keep my expectations low as not to be disappointed. What about you? Any leads?”

“Potentially. Rumor has it they may be headed northeast. Vaguely-matched descriptions.”

“Hm...makes sense. It’s the nearest border. If the mage wants to drag her out of the country, that would be the way to go. And yet…”

“What?”

Sasuke gathers his reins, the pair of them slowed by city crowds as they head toward the north gate. “...that almost sounds less like a kidnapping, and more like…”

“A getaway?”

“Precisely.”

“My thoughts, as well. Something tells me we may find this tale to be deeper than the tales tell. But there’s only one way to find out: we’ll have to catch them.”

“Then we’ve no time to lose…!”

As soon as they clear the gate, the brothers urge their mounts to a swift lope, wanting to whittle down the miles before sunset.

It’s an odd situation. The eldest daughter of the king Hiashi has been - according to most - kidnapped by her lady-in-waiting. Hinata, the princess, was given a mage a few years her senior as a child to serve as her protector and servant. The elder girl had been a gift: a prize from the conquered lands Hiashi had recently obtained.

Sasuke had always found the notion repellent: the gifting of a human being like an object. It doesn’t help that he and his brother as mages as well, remnants of a kingdom long lost.

Hinata was, for most of her life, kept contained within the castle grounds. But any rare glimpse of her always showed the mage in her shadow, hovering in what did indeed appear to be a defensive, protective manner.

So why, after all this time, would a loyal servant suddenly turn on her mistress, kidnapping her for reasons yet unknown?

...it makes only partial sense. True, she was originally introduced to the princess as a thing, a prize, a slave. Perhaps resentment has only built throughout the years. But something in Sasuke’s gut tells him otherwise.

But for now...the truth doesn’t matter. What does is that the brothers are expert trackers, and like so many, are in pursuit of the pair in hopes of a reward in glory and gold.

“They have a few days on us,” Itachi then offers, breaking Sasuke’s thoughts. “But we can’t assume they have horses - if they’re so sought after, surely they wouldn’t be foolish enough to barter in the open.”

“But we don’t know what arts the mage is learned in - perhaps she can cast illusions as we can. Use that to steal what she needs.”

“It’s possible...but I doubt it. Even that would leave a trail. If she’s truly serious, and at all cunning, she won’t run that risk. We can neither over nor underestimate her.”

“A bit limited then, don’t you think?”

“Precisely. We’ll have to be just as cunning.”

“Did you speak to the ravens?”

“Of course. They’re scouring as we speak. But even then, word will take time to reach us. For now, we keep moving.”

“And if your lead is wrong and we’re headed in the wrong direction?”

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take. Either way, they’ll be getting further from us if we do nothing. And I trust my sources.”

“...very well.”

They ride until sundown, tethering their horses off the road and eating spare rations.

“So if this isn’t kidnapping...what do you think it is?”

“...I can’t afford to make assumptions. We’ll find the truth when we find them.”

“And if she lies?”

“The princess will surely tell us.”

“...unless she’s an accomplice.”

“A possibility, yes...but we’ll have to wait and see. I know patience isn’t always your foremost virtue, but we’re going to need it.”

The next morning, they leave at first light, coming across a simple mining town along the route. Itachi pauses to hear the gossip as Sasuke regathers their supplies.

“Have you had any women traveling alone? A pair of them, likely harried?”

Gathering his requested items, the shopkeep hums in thought. “...that does ring a distant bell, aye.”

“When?”

“Two days hence. Seemed rushed, hoods drawn. We see plenty a’ strange folk ‘round these parts, so I thought nothing of it. Friends of yours?”

“You could say that,” Sasuke mutters, handing over the proper coins with a nod. “My thanks.”

“Learn anything?” Itachi asks as they reunite.

“Sounds like they were here two days ago - the man at the general goods shop remembers a pair of suspicious women.”

“Well then, seems we’re on the right path. If that was only two days ago...they aren’t making good time. They must be on foot - or at least were when they arrived. I checked the livery - no horses have been sold.”

“Then we’ll soon catch them…!”

With a renewed vigor, the pair flee further north, pushing their horses as far as they dare. And then, midafternoon, a raven cries, swooping alongside them.

Sasuke’s heart leaps. “What news?”

“They’ve found them. Holed up in a cave...there’s a barrier at the fore.”

“A barrier…?”

“It’s not far - let’s go!”

Urging his mount, Sasuke keeps on his brother’s heels. They soon abandon the road heading toward a cliffside.

“See it?”

“...I think so. Dismount - we’ll go in on foot.”

They tether their horses, keeping weapons drawn - Itachi his sword, and Sasuke his bow. No matter their hypotheses, they can’t afford to assume anything.

“It’s just there...see it?”

A large crack in the cliff looks dark, but as Sasuke stares, he can see the faint glimmer of a barrier - otherwise unnoticeable. “...how are we going to get in?”

“By making another doorway...be ready. This is going to be loud, but they won’t have anywhere to flee.”

Nodding, Sasuke tightens his grip on the curve of his bow. An arrow rests, nocked and waiting to be drawn.

Sheathing his blade, Itachi presses a hand to the rock and soil near the barrier. Rather than dismantle it...he instead shifts the earth around it to make another entrance. And as promised, it’s loud. Stone grates and a faint rumbling builds.

...but no one comes.

Once there’s a slim but clear path, Itachi leads the way in, summoning a small lick of flame to his palm. The fire dances, casting shifting shadows against the walls of the cavern.

“Stay close…”

They creep forward, tense and ready for anything. It’s utterly silent save for their muted footsteps, leather boots quiet against the stone floor.

“...are you sure they’re here?”

“Yes, I’m s-”

With a flare of energy, another barrier blooms...and this time, it encases them both. Startled to a stop (and unable to flee), the brothers freeze.

Slowly, out of the darkness, comes a woman: hands raised and aglow with magic. Determination shapes her face. “...who are you?”

“I think the better question is who you are, rogue mage. Where is the princess?”

“She’s none of your concern. Did Hiashi send you?”

“No...we’re here of our own volition to get princess Hinata back.”

“She isn’t going anywhere...and certainly not back to that wretched man.”

The brothers exchange a look. “...you haven’t kidnapped her…?”

“No...she didn’t.”

Two pairs of dark eyes shift to look further back into the cave. Hinata emerges from the shadows, looking wary but calm. “...princess?”

“I wasn’t taken from my father. I was saved from him.”

“...well, isn’t that interesting…” Itachi muses.

“If you’re here to take me back...I won’t go. Not unless you force me…!”

“I won’t allow it, my lady,” the mage cuts in. Eyes narrowing, she in turn narrows the barriers around them. “We can’t trust them…”

“Wait! The king didn’t send us - we came seeking a reward!” Sasuke rebukes.

“Then you’re driven by greed rather than blind loyalty? Hardly better.”

“But so too are we guided by our morals,” Itachi offers, giving Sasuke a warning glance. “If you were indeed fleeing for your safety...we won’t usurp that. But that does beg the question of what really happened, my lady. Perhaps we could be of help. We’re trackers by trade...which means we also know how to evade them.”

Sasuke’s brows furrow. ...what are you up to, now…?

“We still have no reason to trust you.”

“Wait…” Hinata cuts in, placing a gentle hand on her companion’s arm. “...perhaps we should explain. If they are men of their word...it would only help us.”

The mage glances to her, clearly torn. “...yes, my lady. As you wish.” Her magic fades, and the barriers fall. “...but if they make one wrong move...I’ll crush them.”

“I know you want only to protect me...but we need allies. Perhaps we’ve found some.”

“As I said,” Itachi offers, gesturing politely to try and ease suspicion. “If returning you would endanger you further, we’ll not do so. We were under the assumption you were taken by force.”

“No...I fled. We both did.”

“But...why?”

“...to escape my father’s plot to have me murdered...and to place the blame on my closest friend.”

                                                       .oOo.

     Welp, this is...super random, and also has a really evil cliffy, I'm sorry! But it's late and the piece was getting long ;;;;; I'll try to do more soon if y'all enjoy it!      But actually, this is based on one of my very earliest RPs...which actually helped me in the early stages of developing my original fantasy verse! It's been...gosh...a looong time since that RP, and a lot has changed, but it was very nostalgic to revisit this old plot. It was VERY extensive, but this is (sorta) how it began!      Anyway, I'd say more but I am EXHAUSTED. I DID get another prompt up earlier today since I skipped yesterday and had some time today. So I'm a lil wrote-out, lol - so I'm gonna call it a night. Thanks for reading~

[gentlemanmendes]

Love You Goodbye

A/n: based off of the song love you goodbye by one direction. 

It seemed that it was inevitable, shawn had noticed y/n slowly slipping away from him but now it seemed she was just out of reach, soon she would be completely out of grasp no longer his.

He wasn't even sure if being friends with y/n was even an option anymore, not after everything they had been through. He couldn't bare the thought of seeing her and knowing that she was no longer his, wouldn't it just be easier if she disappeared out of his life completely.

All good things came to an end, why would he and y/n be any different?

Things had been better than good between them, the excitement and comfort she gave him was indescribable which made the reality of this situation harder than it needed to be.

The last thing she wanted to do was hurt shawn but she was giving him no mercy. He watched the cruel way she packed her belongings unable to move as his gaze stayed glued to her. With every shove she gave an item of clothing into her bag shawn felt as if she were doing the exact same thing to his heart, shoving it down with a harsh movement that made it impossible to breath.

The looks she gave him was a knife to the chest, the burning, intolerable, sensation of a deep wound being cut fresh open. It wasn't that she was glaring at him, he could just see in her expression that she no longer had love for him the way she once did.

All she had to do was twist that knife and pull it out and he would be gone, she would do that by simply walking out the door. He blamed himself for allowing her to have such an affect on him but he had never seen this coming to begin with.

When y/n had come in from outside he knew that something was off. She was still wearing the black dress that she had put on for their night out but now her hair was down, shoes were off, and make up smudged from crying. It was the look on her face that told shawn something was wrong. She had never looked like that after a fight. It was pure defeat, her eyes looked tired like she didn't want to try anymore and her lips slightly parted as if she had nothing more to say to him.

She hadn't even said a single word as she began packing. When shawn had panicked and asked her what she was doing she replied with 'I'm tired shawn.' As tears began falling from her eyes.

She was done packing and looked over to shawn with a sigh, as if giving him the chance for any final words before she left.

Their was so much he wanted to say but couldn't find the words.

She was just prepared to leave like this, over a stupid fight. Deep down Shawn knew that this had been a long time coming, she had grown distant along with the distance that came between them while he was on tour, this had just been the final flame that set the bomb off.

"Don't go." Shawn cried causing her to let out a long painful sigh.

He was making this harder than it needed to be.

"Shawn"

Shawn shot up and grabbed y/n's had in his hoping to light the spark to start up the burning passion that the two had shared over the past few years.

"Just stay the night, please, all I'm asking for in one night." Shawn had never been the type to beg which had made this harder for y/n.

Sh knew he was full of pride and for him to come to this she must be hurting him really badly. She made the mistake of lifting her gaze from the floor to look at him. The tears in her eyes were there, she still cared.As she looked into Shawn's eyes, those warm caramel eyes that always made her insides go soft like warm butter she knew she too would fall apart. This wasn't easy on her but she needed time, she needed to clear her head.

She and shawn had always been very secure over the past couple of years but over the last few months she began to doubt her relationship and love for shawn a lot more than she should have.

She couldn't turn her gaze away from Shawn's eyes, she was fixed in a trance and was sure she would break in his arms at any given moment.

"Just tonight."Shawn whispered, his hands were shaking and he was still crying but his voice was secure.

He was positive that if he could share this last night with y/n he could move on. He would worry about tomorrow when it came but for now he would savour every second he had with her because they were his last.

Y/n didn't agree nor did she give any indication that she didn't want to go any further.

Instead she stayed staring into Shawn's eyes knowing that there was  still a bit of red amongst the burning ashes of their relationship, their was still a chance for them to turn this back into a blazing fire, but the chance was slim and she wasn't sure if it was even worth trying anymore.

Yet when Shawn's lips met hers she felt butterflies stronger than she ever had before erupt in her stomach. She kissed back passionately because she didn't know what else to do.

Her emotions were everywhere.

She knew she should pull away, that it wasn't right to play with Shawn's emotions like this but she couldn't help it. She needed a release and right now the only thing that felt clear to her in this mess that she had created for them was the way shawn made her feel physically.

The distraction of kissing y/n had caused the pain that had been rippling through shawn on its quest to conquer him to stop. All he could focus on in those moments was they way y/n's lips felt against his, they had always fit and moved so perfectly with his and tonight was no different.

If y/n was going to leave him tonight then he would at least make it a night to remember.

His hands gripped on her waist firmly pulling her closer their lips never parting. When there bodies were so close that shawn could feel the heavy rise and fall of y/n's chest as she tried to breath while they kissed he moved his hands to her back. His arms cradled her as if he were her safe haven as he slowly undid the zip of her dress.

She pulled her lips away but her body stayed pressed against his as she clutched onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her from falling to her death, little did she know that tonight when she would leave it would be the cause of death of something inside of both of them.

"This doesn't change anything." She whispered hating herself for speaking the truth.

"I know." Shawn breathed out wishing she hadn't said anything for those words reminded him of what was really happening right now causing the aching inside of him to grow stronger.

He longed for more than whatever they had silently come to agreement on within the last few minutes but he couldn't have more than tonight.

Shawn peeled the tight fabric of her dress away from her body cautiously like a porcelain doll, scared that she would shatter right before him before he even got a chance to say goodbye the way he wanted to.

His hand started from her cheek as he cupped her face looking longingly into her beautiful eyes as he begged her for more but she didn't seem to understand what he was asking for, or she didn't want to understand.

His hand moved down from her cheek to her neck down the side of her body as he traced an imaginary line, his gaze following the trail his fingers led as he took in her body for the last time.

Her body was unforgettable yet he wanted to be sure he took in every curve, every edge, ever scar and mark. He looked at her knowing it would be the last time as he laid her down on the bed that they would share for one last time tonight.

His whole world was in his hands right now and it would be taken away from him soon.

As his lips moved slowly down y/n's body making sure to kiss every bit of skin he could see he couldn't help but remember every horrible thing that anyone had ever said about him and y/n being together. He knew the tears were hitting y/n's skin making her aware that he was still crying but he didn't care.

They had tried to convince anyone who said that they weren't good together wrong because no one understood their relationship but now all those people would be saying 'I told you so' which wasn't true. The time spent had not been a waste, not for shawn anyway.

He reminded himself of what y/n had said before. 'Maybe we just need time apart, when you get back from tour we could talk then, both of us would have had time to think'.

Maybe this wasn't a permeant thing.

But everyone who ever took a break never got back together.

Shawn couldn't remember when he had lost his clothes all he could focus on was that this was the last time he would hold y/n in his arms, this was the last time she would be his and he was positive he wanted nothing more than to spend these last moments loving her like it was the first time all over again, after all beginnings are usually better than endings- they held more hope.

Shawn's lips moved slowly along the curve of y/n's hips as his fingers latched onto the sides of her underwear and pulled them down her legs swiftly before discarding them on the floor. His lips then began to move lower until they attached to her heat y/n's back arching at the sudden contact that she had been awaiting.

It pained her knowing that she was putting shawn through this. She wanted to tell him to stop, it didn't feel right putting him through this when she knew that moments in time she would be walking right out of his life.

But She knew telling him to stop wouldn't be any better, this was his way of closure, he needed this last time together, to just love her goodbye, for everything to be alright.

With every tender touch of his lips and flick of his tongue y/n moaned out in bliss. She couldn't picture anyone else putting their mouth where shawn was putting his nor did she want to, shawn had learned every secret her body had to offer like it was a map written in the stars that only he could read.

"Shawn please." She breathed out.

She didn't want him like this on her last night with him. She wanted him to embrace her the way he did on the nights where she didn't feel like she was enough, she wanted to feel his body over her's protecting her from the harsh cruelties of the world. She wanted him to be slow and gentle as he moved in and out of her with his forehead against hers, his hot breath fanning over her lips. She wanted to feel the pleasure of his bare skin pressed against hers providing her with a comfort that would never come to her again.

Knowing exactly what she wanted, shawn always knew what y/n wanted without her having to say it, he gave one last swipe of his tongue up her folds giving her clit a long loving suck before moving to where his eyes could lock with hers one last time.

His hands slithered around her back to the clasp of her bra as her hands pulled down his boxers allowing his hardened member to spring out.

Shawn reached over to the bedside table to get a condom. While he moved he immediately missed the feeling of y/n's body pressed against his. Like a withdrawal even though the two had barley done anything yet.

Was that what it would feel like when she left or would it be worse?

Of course it would be worse.

His eyes locked with y/n's again before sliding himself into her immediately feeling her walls stretch around him. He loved these moments where they fit perfectly together like the final pieces in a puzzle coming together to create the perfect picture.

Weren't they the perfect picture? If so then why were they taking the puzzle apart?

He buried his face in the croak of her neck as he set a steady pace thrusting into her deep and slow enjoying the way her back arched pushing her body further against his every time he hit her g-spot.

It was as if he were seeing her for the first time, in all her beauty and grace wondering how he had found himself someone so perfect. But only now he was losing her, he had found her but she would no longer be his.

The taste of her lips was enough to bring him back to the present, he couldn't loose himself in the past not in his final moments with y/n.

The places they had been and the late night they had shared, he could reminisce on them tomorrow when she was gone but tonight he needed to end it right.

It was over but he had tonight, that wasn't enough but it was something and something was better than nothing.

[ssromanogers]

Kiss Me at Midnight

To: Fatima @cpt-stvngrntrgrs  (http://cpt-stvngrntrgrs.tumblr.com/)

From: Chrissy @xo-stardust720  (http://xo-stardust720.tumblr.com/)

Note:  Wishing you much happiness, health, and success for 2019! Hope you like this fic :)

—

Here’s the thing you should probably know about Natasha Romanoff.

She’s kind of a loner. And she prefers it that way.

It’s not that she’s anti-social. She just doesn’t mind being alone most of the time, okay? She isn’t like most of her fellow students. She doesn’t care about school dances, never wants to join the after school clubs, and she doesn’t participate in the school gossip concerning who was dating whom… That kind of stuff just typically flies over her head. Her mother always told her that she had an old soul, and that she shouldn’t be so serious all the time… but what was she supposed to do about it? She has a handful of acquaintances at best and most of her peers at school are just idiots anyway, so why bother interacting with them?

…okay, so maybe she is anti-social.

She’s often the one that’s on the outside looking in, and she’s absolutely fine with it.

She is.

—-

Natasha had been looking forward to graduating high school and going to college as soon as she understood what being independent meant. The freedom that had come with moving out and living her life the way she wanted was something that she had gotten used to very quickly, and she loved it. She and her family moved to the States when she was eleven, and though she tried hard to lose her Russian accent, there were moments when it just slipped out. If she was being honest with herself, it was one of the things that alienated her from her classmates as she grew up through her teenage years. One of the things that she loved most about college was the fact that individuality was accepted here. No one batted an eyelash if she sometimes let out a curse in Russian.

College is where she met Sharon Carter.

(Sometimes Natasha doesn’t understand how she and Sharon ever became friends.)

On the surface, they were complete opposites. Sure, they were both the same height… but where Natasha had red hair and was all curves, Sharon was petite and blonde. Not to say that she was dumb, mind you, because she wasn’t. Sharon was certainly gorgeous though, and was exactly the kind of person that Natasha actively avoided in high school, i.e., the typical pretty, blonde cheerleader that all guys wanted to be with and all girls wanted to be like. Girls like that were usually mean, so imagine her surprise when Sharon waltzed into her life and sat down next to her the first day of Psychology 101. Everything about Sharon screamed cheerleader and Natasha wasn’t surprised to find out that she did indeed cheer for SHIELD University’s football team. However, she had been astonished to learned that Sharon was genuinely sweet and actually cared about her well-being.

They became roommates after the first year was over and Natasha found that she actually enjoyed her company. The way Sharon went about her life though… that took some getting used to.

For one thing, the girl had a million friends.

Okay, that was a stretch. But there was no denying that Sharon was indeed popular. Being a cheerleader, it was pretty much a given that everyone on campus knew who she was and people were always coming by to say hi. And it was hard to say no to Sharon, so when the girl decides she wants to go for ice cream at 9:30 on a Wednesday night and wants Nat to join her, who is she to say no? She was persuasive. And if they happened to run into Sharon’s friends while they’re out? Well, it wasn’t like Natasha could just ditch her roommate. She wasn’t that terrible.

And… well…

It was nice to be included.

(To be honest, Sharon was probably the best friend she’s ever had.)

—

“Hey Natasha.”

She barely looked up from her laptop when she heard someone call her name, her mind too focused on the essay she was working on. It was probably one of Sharon’s friends anyway. She was starting to get used to the fact that they were always coming up to her now. “Hi,” she muttered under her breath. She continued typing, not paying any attention to this random person that had suddenly decided to sit down across from her. She finished and looked up– and froze.

Steve Rogers was smiling at her, his mouth half-quirked in the most adorable way. “Working on the English essay?”

(Here’s another thing you should know about Natasha, not that she’ll ever admit it out loud.

She’s been in love with Steve Rogers since the sixth grade.)

The day she met Steve is one that she’ll never forget for as long as she lives.

Newly immigrated and almost immediately alienated from her new classmates, Steve Rogers was probably (other than her teachers) the first person who had ever spoken to her and who didn’t treat her like she was dumb just because she was having a little difficulty understanding a new language. At eleven years old, Natasha was often kept inside during recess to practice her English while the other kids were able to go outside. Well, except skinny little Steve Rogers, who was often just as stuck inside as she was due to his asthma and small stature. That, and he was often bullied (not that he ever just took it laying down!). And on that first day, Steve sat beside her while she struggled and at the end of her session, he presented her with a drawing that he’d done of her while she was studying with her teacher. He’d drawn her as a superhero, complete with a flowing cape and determined expression to conquer the evil English language with all her might.

And that’s when the crush started.

(She still has that drawing to this day.)

They weren’t always in the same classes as the years went on, but somehow they were able to keep track of one another. Steve eventually grew up from the skinny, little boy she’d known and into a handsome football star that suddenly had all the girls tripping over themselves to get his attention. He’d changed in appearance but he still remained the same sweet-natured person she’d always known.

She wasn’t entirely sure when they started being on talking terms, but they’ve always been friendly. She never went out of her way to talk to Steve but she secretly delighted in it when he made an effort to say hi and she thought they were friends. Could she call someone she’d spoken to maybe a handful of times a friend? Either way, the whole thing was a moot point because Natasha was. in. Love. with. Steve. Rogers.

Steve Rogers, who had asked her a question and was still patiently waiting for her answer, while she just stared at him.

She felt like an idiot.

Ugh, she was an idiot.

(Why is she so awkward?)

“–uh, yeah,” she answered. “I’m almost done.” Pause. “Um, are you?”

Steve just leaned back in his chair, looking as relaxed as can be. This was one of the things that infuriated Natasha on another level while at the same time made her swoon. He looked perfect and well-put together. He always did. And how did he look so calm and carefree, while she was sitting there with her guts twisting on the inside because she was suddenly so nervous at his swift appearance. She wasn’t prepared for this! She glanced down at what she was wearing that day… jeans and a simple cardigan. Okay, not bad, but… not exactly how she wanted him to see her either. Her hair was probably a mess, but at least she had on some mascara and lip gloss? She could probably pass for looking somewhat cute.

Being in love with a guy that you’ve had a crush on since practically forever was really stressful.

“I’ve barely started,” he said easily.

She stared. “But it’s due in two days.”

Steve shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll get it done. Gotta finish off all my other assignments first.”

“Oh,” she nodded in understanding. And then there was an awkward silence.

Steve fidgeted. “Listen…” She watched as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. Natasha knew that was a move that Steve only did when he was unsure. Oh no, now she was starting to make him uncomfortable too. What was her life? “What are you doing on Saturday?”

Was he asking her out on a date? Did he somehow pick up on the signals that she was trying so hard not to drop? Her heart rate picked up and she tried to keep her breathing even. “Why?” Natasha winced inwardly. She didn’t mean for it to come out so… curtly.

Steve faltered at her tone of voice and she wanted to kick herself. “Well, a bunch of us were gonna go ice skating at Rockefeller… and uh, do you wanna come?”

She didn’t know how to comprehend this. Steve had never asked her to join any outing that he was a part of. Until now, apparently.  “My first final is on Saturday.”

His face fell and he pulled himself to a standing position. “Oh, okay. Maybe next time. Good luck on your final.” He started to walk away.

“Steve!” She bursted out. He stopped and turned to look at her. She bit her lip. “Uh, I can come by after? If you’re still there? My final should be done by noon.” Was she babbling? Natasha did not know how to do this. “I can get to Rockefeller by 1pm? Will you guys still be there?”

His face lit up and he grinned broadly. “We will definitely still be there. See you Saturday, Nat!”

She watched him walk away, leaving her to wonder what the hell just happened.

Well then.

—

“Of course it’s a date,” Sharon said later on that night in the privacy of their dorm.

“But there will be other people there,” Natasha protested. “A group of people. It’s a casual hangout at best.”

The blonde waved away her objections. “If he does it right, one can always turn a casual hangout into a date.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Oh hell no,” Sharon sat up from her bed and glared. “You. Are. Going.” She emphasized it for good measure. “I’ll wait for you outside of your exam room and drag you there myself, if I have too.”

(Like she said, Sharon is probably the best friend she’s ever had.)

—

Christmas time in New York was always a big deal. Midtown Manhattan was decorated lavishly for season and everywhere one looked, there was some sort of display proclaiming their intent to celebrate the holidays in style. Privately, Natasha thought that New York looked like Christmas personally threw up on it. 

Still, perhaps it was the holiday music playing everywhere or the bright shiny lights or the fact that her final exam had been a breeze…  Natasha found herself smiling as she walked towards Rockefeller Center. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what put her in such a good mood but she hoped that it stayed with her.

“That’s all bullshit and you know it,” Sharon told her as they walked. “You’re just excited to see Steve. It’s okay, you can admit it.”

True to her word, Sharon had been waiting for her after her exam had let out with two pairs of skates in hand. As it turned out, the blonde had been invited along to the ice skating excursion (because of course she was, Natasha wasn’t even surprised when she found out) and the redhead was completely relieved. There was some comfort in having a familiar face there, and one that she knew would be in her corner if she needed it.

“Whatever,” she muttered. “Just help me make sure I don’t make a fool of myself.”

Sharon threw an arm around her shoulders and laughed. “Count on it,” she promised.

(Again, she’s still not sure how they became friends, but she’s grateful.)

To her surprise, Natasha actually recognized a lot of the people that were invited to this event and felt some of her nerves flutter away. At least she wasn’t surrounded by complete strangers as she watched Sharon march up to Sam Wilson and give him a warm hug, a hug that he returned just as enthusiastically. The confidence that the blonde displayed was something that the redhead envied enormously. Natasha had actually known for quite sometime now that Sharon had been angling for a date with the football captain and it looked like Sharon was well on her way to getting that date she made obvious that she wanted.

Natasha sat on a bench and was tying up the laces to her skates when she saw a pair of black skates glide up to her. She glanced up and saw Steve smiling down at her from over the railing. “You made it!” He greeted her happily. His grin was wide and bright for all to see.

“Hi.” Her voice was soft and she wasn’t sure if he could actually hear her over the loud music playing from the speakers.

Natasha was glad that the ice rink was outside because she could feel her cheeks heating up and there was just no other way she could explain her blushing other than the fact that it was cold out. She wobbled as she stood and uncertainty filled her. It had been years since she had last gone skating, and she wasn’t sure if she could actually still do it. Steve reached out to steady her and she felt herself warm up even more.

Her first step on the ice was a little unsteady and it felt different from being on solid ground.  Natasha was a trained dancer and she was as graceful as can be, but the ice was slippery and she found she needed an anchor. Steve kept his hold on her and she reached out for his other arm– and she found that after the first couple of steps, she was much steadier.

She didn’t let go though and Steve stayed in front of her as they slowly moved about on the ice, she moving forwards and him moving backwards. It was almost… cozy and she was spellbound, Steve’s blue eyes looking impossibly bright as he continued to smile at her. And if she leaned in just a little bit closer… well… The feeling was slightly overwhelming because it felt like they were stuck in this… something that only the two of them could describe. And for the life of her, Natasha had no idea how she even got to this moment or how it happened.

Until it was completely ruined.

“INCOMING!”

Sam Wilson came sliding past them, grabbing onto Steve as he tried to regain his balance… which in turn disrupted Natasha’s balance and the next thing she knew, Steve was on the ground and she was on top of him as he cushioned her fall.

(“I am so, so, so sorry we cock-blocked you,” Sharon apologized afterwards. “If I could go back in time and redo that moment, I totally would. I would’ve totally shoved Sam in the other direction. Honestly, we were just fooling around and didn’t even see you guys until it was too late. Who knew Sam could be such a klutz on the ice?”

Natasha just screamed with frustration into her pillow.)

—

The thing was that Natasha still couldn’t be completely sure that the whole ice skating event was a date. Steve hadn’t really mentioned anything about it in the days that passed, so she was left to assume that it probably was a casual hangout. Plus, final exams were looming so she really couldn’t do anything other than put it out of her mind and focus on studying.

Except for the fact that Steve had suddenly started texting her.

S: Are you going to Tony’s party?

N: Hadn’t really planned on it.

S: But it’s New Year’s Eve! What were you planning on doing instead?

N: …sleeping?  

S: C’mon! Come to the party!

S: Please? :)

“Of course you’re going,” Sharon said in a matter-of-fact-tone of voice when Natasha showed her the text messages. “Finals are over, so you don’t have the excuse of ‘studying’. You’ve got nothing better to do. And I’m not letting you sit at home alone in your pjs. This is a time to celebrate with your friends.”

“…I was gonna watch the Ball Drop on TV,” Natasha protested weakly, knowing it was futile.

“Stark lives in a skyscraper. You can totally watch the Ball Drop AND see the fireworks from his balcony,” Sharon rolled her eyes. “You’re going.”

—

Natasha slowly sipped her vodka tonic as she watched the throngs of people roaming around the room, all of them laughing and enjoying one another’s company. Though she had half-heartedly fought against it in the beginning, she had to admit it now – coming to Tony’s New Year’s Eve party had been a good idea. She was having a great time, and watching Sharon get completely drunk and having the time of her life – if her laughter and giggles were any indication – was like finding gold in a pile of dirt.

Natasha was never going to let her live it down.

Looking up at the clock, she saw that it was close to midnight and decided to head to the kitchen to get herself some champagne. But when she turned, she was stopped.

Because standing right there in front of her was Steve Rogers holding onto two flutes of champagne, one of which he promptly handed over to her. “Hi,” he grinned.

She accepted the drink and took a sip. “Hi Steve.”

And perhaps it was the alcohol she’d already consumed earlier that night, but this was the first time in his presence that Natasha had ever felt a hundred percent comfortable. Nice and relaxed. She liked that he was there. Next to her. With her.

He stepped even closer to her, so close she could practically feel the heat radiating from his body. “You look like you’re having a good time.”

“I am,” Natasha nodded, making no move to step away. “I’m glad I came.”

“I’m glad you came too.”

“FIVE!.. FOUR!… THREE!…”

The background noises seemed to fade away as they stared at one another, vaguely aware that the countdown to midnight had started. A meaningful gaze that seemed to speak volumes without uttering a single word. Had it always been this way between them? Natasha couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t try to stop Steve as he invaded her personal space, leaning close and placed a hand on the side of her face.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The scene registered bit by bit, smaller pieces falling into place to form the bigger picture. His mouth was sweet and chaste as it moved against hers, then inviting as he touched his tongue to her lips. She pulled him closer, gripping onto his shirt as she eagerly kissed him back and parted her lips, all too happy to give him the entrance he requested. Warmth rushed through her body, a quiet sigh of pleasure escaping her throat while her arms circled around his shoulders.

He was a good kisser… No, scratch that. He was a really, really fantastic kisser. His tongue was exploring her mouth and his hands were pressing into the small of her back. She suddenly wished she didn’t have to stop kissing him, because (oh my god, she’s really kissing Steve!) this was already everything beyond her wildest expectations.

Slowly, they pulled apart and her heart was pounding in her chest. Her lips were tingling and she could still taste him on her tongue. He stared down at her and she stared back, their words a jumble in the air between them.

She grinned and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she was completely receptive to his advances. He held her to him  a little tighter. “Happy New Year, Nat.”

Unable to resist, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Happy New Year, Steve.”

—

Here’s the thing you should probably know about Natasha Romanoff.

These days, she’s not so much of a loner anymore. And she kind of prefers it that way.

It’s not that she’s suddenly a social butterfly… She has Sharon for that, and the girl is all kinds of outgoing in ways that Natasha is still getting used to. In fact, she’s not sure that she’ll ever get used to it. But she finds that she likes it, more often than not, and her life feels like it’s full of meaning now. The handful of acquaintances that she used to have…  have now become actual friends that she hangs out with on weekends, seeing movies and discovering new restaurants, and other normal activities that college students are supposed to partake in. It’s not so bad interacting with them on a regular basis. She’s no longer on the outside looking in, and she’s absolutely fine with it.

Oh, and here’s another thing you should know about Natasha, now that she can finally admit it out loud.

She’s been in love with Steve Rogers since the sixth grade.

They shared a magical kiss on New Year’s Eve that had her tingling all the way down to her toes.

…and as it turns out, he’s also been in love with her since the sixth grade. Go figure!

(In case you didn’t figure it out, they’re dating now.)

Sharon rolls her eyes when Natasha finally tells her the news two days later.

“Of course you’re dating. Anyone with working eyes can see you’re meant for one another. Now onto more important discussions… what are we doing next weekend? Wanna double date?”

—

[the-imagine-thot]

Nerves Michael Mell x Reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 1982

A/N: Sorry I haven’t posted in a while, but there’ll be a good ole smut coming out soon if anyone wants it.

TW: Nothing really, it’s pretty fluffy. A lot of anxious reader.

You were sitting in a chair about three rows back in the auditorium with your knees tucked underneath your chin. Your eyes were glued to the stage as though you’d be punished for looking away. Your breathing had gradually grew more shallow and frantic as all of the other students went up one at a time upon hearing their names. Your head had started to spin a little more each time a kid got up onto that stage, sang their audition piece, and returned back to their seat in the audience. There weren’t many people trying out for the musical this year, but it was still enough to make you nervous. It didn’t help that most of the soon-to-be-crew members were also sitting in the audience, watching everything unfold. Needless to say, you were an absolute mess, and you silently hoping that nobody would notice. You were never really the kind of kid that wanted to stand out, as you had always had a problem with social anxiety. You would get panic attacks often, but as high school went on, you’d learned how to better handle them. You’d even made a couple friends. You had also started to discover how to use creative activities as an outlet for all of your anxieties. Your favorite of these activities just so happened to be singing. And damn were you good at it. All of your two friends had told you about a million times in choir that it was what you were born to do. Of course, you’d always pushed their comments to the side - until the musical rolled around. Your friends spent forever convincing you to audition for your school production of Les Misérables. And now, here you were. A trembling mess in an uncomfortably cushioned chair, three rows back in the audience. You continued to reflect on the events leading up to this until a loud monotone voice interrupted your thoughts.

“(F/n) (L/n).” It took you a moment to register the words that had come out of the drama teacher’s mouth. Oh shit. That was your name. You immediately shot up from your seat, catching a few eyes as you rather awkwardly made your way up onto the stage. You stood there for a moment until you realized that you’d forgotten what to do. You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat and drown out the sound of your rapidly thumping heart as you called out with a shaky voice.

“S-sorry, what do I s-say again?” You looked out at the audience, noticing familiar faces from the halls. You started to panic even more at the thought of your peers hearing you screw up your audition. They probably didn’t even know you existed and now they were about to watch you fail miserably.

“Just say your name, grade, the roles you’re auditioning for, and the song you’re auditioning with.” You could tell by the tone of his voice that he’d probably uttered that sentence about a thousand times today. Your eyes continued to wander around the audience. You wanted to stop, but you couldn’t take your eyes away. You could practically envision every one of the faces in the crowd taunting you for the rest of the year about how bad your audition was. Giving up on your attempts to calm your nerves, you spoke.

“Oh, well… My-my name is (F/n) (L/n), I’m a junior, a-and I’ll be auditioning for the roles of Cosette, Éponine, and Fantine, b-but any role is fine. I’ll also b-be auditioning with the song ‘At the Ballet’ from A Chorus Line… so… yeah.” Your trembling voice started to trail off as you nervously cleared your throat in preparation. As you took a deep breath, your eyes kept frantically scanning the crowd. They continued to do so as you started to sing.

“Mother always said I’d be very attractive when I grew up, when I grew up.” You jumped a little in surprise. It actually wasn’t sounding that bad. You started wiping your sweaty hands on the back of your jeans as you continued to sing.

“‘Different’, she said, ‘with a special something and a very very personal- flair.’” You started to think that maybe the nerves were a good thing, as your shaky voice just sounded like some really good vibrato when you held out certain notes.

“And though I was eight or nine, though I was eight or nine, though I was eight or nine… I hated her.” You now noticed that the quiet conversations that were earlier heard further  back in the auditorium had completely dissipated. You had grabbed everyone’s full attention.

“Now ‘different’ is nice, but it sure isn’t pretty ‘pretty’ is what it’s about. I’ve never met anyone who was ‘different’ who couldn’t figure that out. So beautiful, I’d never lived to see. But it was clear. If not to her, than to me.” As you hit every note with a perfect blend of emotion and control, your eyes were still frantically searching the crowd. You had no idea what for, though.

“That everyone is beautiful at the ballet. Every prince has got to have his swan. Yes everything is beautiful-” Your eyes suddenly stopped as they met the orbs of someone who you never thought you would see in that auditorium. Five rows back sat Michael fucking Mell. You’d had a crush on him since freshman year, and just the sight of him made your heart stop. To you, he was so goddamn cool. But you never thought for one second that he was a theatre kid. Your heart started to hammer again when you noticed how invested he was in your audition. He was leaning forward, almost falling off of his chair, with his mouth loosely hanging open. His dark eyes were wide in awe as they made contact with yours. For that one fraction of a second, everything was still as you felt connected to Michael. He was staring at you and you were staring at him. That had never, not once happened before. And boy, did it send heart soaring. Suddenly, you remembered where you were and what you were doing. And- shit you had to sing the high note now. Luckily, your ‘connection’ scenario only lasted for about half of a second. It was also fortunate that that scenario also boosted your adrenaline and confidence by 80%, making the audition even more powerful. You kept eye contact with Michael as you went on went on to sing the high notes.

“At the ballet, hey.” you wanted to stop, but instead you maintained eye contact with the dark-haired geek while you finished the last line of your audition.

“I was pretty, at the ballet.” And just like that, it was over. There were a few beats of silence while the audience was trying to tell if you were finished or not. After the silence, there was an immediate applause and one or two whistles/hollers. After the short applause, you simply smiled sheepishly and stepped down off of the stage, heading back to your seat. You received  a few high fives as you sat back down in your seat, which you gladly accepted. At the moment, you were so unbelievably proud of yourself. You had just conquered one of your biggest fears, and you couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face as the drama teacher started to speak.

“Alright everyone, it seems as though that was our last audition today. I will have the cast list posted by my classroom by Monday next week, and our first rehearsal will be on Tuesday. Have a good evening.” After they were dismissed, everybody started to leave. Still grinning softly, you grabbed your backpack and started to make your way out of the auditorium. Before you could reach the door, however, you were stopped.

“Hey, wait! (Y/n), right? What you did back there was amazing. Seriously, I’ve never seen anything like it! How’d you learn to sing like that?” You turned around to see who was speaking only to find Michael fucking Mell (again). He started jogging to catch up with you as you nervously thought of what you should say.

“Th-thank you, so much, I um… I guess i-it was just years of practice y’know? But, really, it w-wasn’t anything special.” You stuttered while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. By now, Michael was standing in front of you with a big, dorky smile that instantly made your heart melt.

“Nothing special? Are you kidding me? Pardon my french, but you’re fucking incredible, I would kill for pipes like yours! Oh, and that vibrato, that was gold!” He suddenly paused nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

“S-sorry, do I sound creepy? I don’t wanna be that guy, I-I just…” You smiled up at him as he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself.

“You’re really good.” He finished, looking down at his shoes and mentally cursing himself for acting like a weirdo in front of a cute girl. You decided to be bold for the second time today and rested your hand on his left arm.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me.” You said sincerely as he sheepishly looked up to make eye contact with you through his glasses. A light blush crept its way up onto both of your faces. You bit your bottom lip a little out of habit and removed your hand from his arm before continuing

“Hey, I don’t think I saw you audition. Are you signed up for crew, or…?” You dragged out your last sentence a little as Michael seemed like he was in some sort of trance. He suddenly snapped out of whatever that was and answered.

“Uh, yeah I-I’m actually gonna working in the sound booth, so yeah.” He laughed nervously as he tried to memorize every feature of yours. From the shade of your hair to the curve of your nose. How had he never noticed you before?

“Oh, really? That sounds so cool.” You said, genuinely interested. This led to a full on conversation lasting for about twenty minutes. By then, everyone else had left the auditorium and it was just you two, sprawled out in uncomfortable chairs and engaging in a heated discussion about video games and weed.  Michael watched how your (e/c) eyes seemed to shine as the conversation went on and he grew to understand that he couldn’t let you slip. You were just too amazing and, quite frankly, adorable.

“Hey, so, can I text you? I might need your help figuring out this new PC game that I bought, y’know?” He decided that that was a good enough excuse.

“For sure! Here, gimme your phone.” You held your hand out and Michael placed his phone in it. You immediately input all of your information, but set the name as ‘The Best’, which earned a good laugh from Michael.

“So do you need a ride home? I’ve got a pretty sweet PT Cruiser parked out back.” He offered.

“I guess a ride couldn’t hurt.” You smiled and hopped out of the auditorium seats, grabbing your backpack and phone off of the ground. Not even waiting for Michael, you bounded through the auditorium doors and into the hallway, making you way towards the back parking lot. Michael ran to catch up with you and, upon finally doing so, he grabbed your hand to keep you from walking any further as he slightly bent over and desperately tried to catch his breath.

“Jesus could you not make me run across the whole school just to catch up with you?” He uttered between pants. You simply giggled.

“My bad.” After Michael caught his breath, you two headed outside to his car. You noticed that he was still holding your hand, but you didn’t mind at all, and neither did Michael.

[littleorphan-ani]

Solitary Style

Pairing: Freard, Ryden (mentioned)

Characters: Gerard Way, Frank Iero

Warnings: War, gay smut, mention of suicide, mention of death, cursing

Summary:

The American Revolution began with a small spark of defiance flourishing into a flame and a thirst for freedom soon to result in a flood of dedication.

With both fire and water, the Patriots were destined to win the war.

Gerard had believed this from the start, hanging up his pitchfork and ditching his life on the farm in favor of carrying a musket and the colonist's trust on his shoulders.

Frank, coming from a better off family, didn't believe the Patriots could win nor did he stand for what they did.  Regardless, he followed his teenaged sweetheart to keep him safe.

Six year, they served side by side, six years.  And in six years, people change.

The bond between Frank and Gerard only grew stronger, Frank relying more and more on his lover.

Now in Yorktown, Virginia, the last day of fighting would occur.  The Patriots would win and declare their freedom.

But what did freedom mean to Gerard and Frank?

Gerard would return to his home and would marry a woman while Frank would return to his posh life where he was destined to marry a fine rich lady he could never love.

Frank couldn't stand the thought of it so he would cherish his last night with Gerard and hold it in his thoughts forever.

October 16, 1781

My only piece of advice for fighting in a battle is not to let your gaze rest on Gerard Way for too long.

In former battles, he'd fight to my right, always to my right. He was graceful, a small smirk across his lips with every shot he fired. With the way his body moved when the gun recoiled and the way his eyes lit up when they drew near with bayonets daring us to fight, it was hardly my fault that I could never look away.

Gerard admitted that he was only fighting for freedom, but I could tell that he was addicted to the adrenaline rush he got from killing and fighting.

He couldn't go on forever though, I could see the energy draining from him before my eyes.  His genuine smiles were now far and few between, replaced with a smirk that could drive a man to madness.

It was driving me to madness and once, it had almost driven me to death.

I had been studying him so intently then that I completely disregarded the blood bath before me and the red coat drawing near.

Gerard had looked over at me a moment later, eyes widening as he stabbed the oncoming soldier in the stomach and another comrade of ours finished him by shooting him in the head.

Blood splashed onto my pants and I shivered, eyes still on Gerard.

"Be careful, stop looking at me because there will not be a tonight if you do not survive today."

So I survived and he survived and he spent the night in my arms, shaking because he had thought he was going to lose me to the monster known as warfare.

That had been quite awhile ago, at the beginning of the revolution even.  We had been here for a long time, it was a miracle that we have even survived this long.

But it was almost over, the plan was to win tomorrow.

The fateful town of Yorktown, Virginia would host a long battle in which we would conquer their base and win freedom.

Our attack had started three weeks previously to the date but it would all end tomorrow.

We were resting for the night, all of us sitting around a fire as we nibbled on the bit of food we had. Some nights, there had been silence, but not tonight. Tonight, despite all our friends who had fallen, we were alive.

Gerard was by my side, sitting on the dirt to my right, a piece of meat in his hand as he greedily chewed on it. We were shoulder to shoulder, his bright eyes looking over at me as I laughed at a joke another had told.

We were impersonating the British leaders, some men even standing up to complete the act.

At one impersonation of General Cornwallis, who was impersonated by someone I don't know the name of and never would, I clutched my stomach as my insides felt like they were about to burst.

"Kill, kill, kill!  Kill the pesky Patriots so I shall be favored by our king."

Gerard was laughing so hard that he burst into tears, leaning his head onto my shoulder as his body shook with laughter. It was the first genuine laugh I had seen escape from his lips in ages. I had almost forgotten how beautiful it was, how beautiful he was.

I supposed everyone either knew about us and didn't care or didn't suspect a thing because no one commented on the fact that we were closer than socially acceptable of two men.

It could go either way because two much more well-known people were tainting in an affair I had no part of and never would.

No one would question the intentions of Alexander Hamilton so why would they with the love of my life and me?

I think they just didn't care, because none of us really did.

When we entered the war and sold our souls to the musket, we became General Washington's bitches and did the dirty work without an argument.

We froze to icicles in the winter, we held our tongues. We hadn't eaten in a few days, we held our tongues. We lost our best friend during a battle, we held our tongues.

We fought until we couldn't fight any longer, and then they patched us up so we could fight some more.

But during this, I didn't learn a name of a single one of my comrades.

I knew their faces, the look of pure terror when their trembling fingers twisted the rosaries around their necks, and happy moments like these in which their lips twitched upwards to form grins brighter than the moon that shone above our heads that night.

I didn't know their last names, but I knew every curve of their faces. I would never know their wives, but I knew how they screamed in battle.

I didn't know a single thing about anyone other than Gerard, but I knew the deepest part of every one of them. What did it matter nowadays if they had a dog?

Gerard even had dreams, vivid hallucinations of the war.  But they weren't battles that happened or would ever come to pass.  His subconscious just knew our comrades so well in battle that his mind manipulated them to fit their characteristics so disturbingly accurate and have them fight.

He'd wake up screaming in my arms, crying silently into my chest so he wouldn't wake me or anyone else up.  But that was a side of him he didn't let anyone see and I only saw on the occasion he'd accidentally whimper too loud; it wasn't too often.

It was a side even Mikey hadn't seen before Gerard left, because he hadn't been like this.  Even if he had, Gerard cared so much about other people that he wouldn't let his emotions show if it caused anyone to worry about him.

But I love him enough to know, I love him more than any other could know.

"Frank," he purrs into my ear, whispering as if intoxicated but I knew it was just the high of the dark and the blood of those he had slain and shot only hours before, "shall we retire for the night?"

I felt a steady, calloused hand brush down my spine and my breath hitches.  The answer was yes, always yes. What else could I say to him?

I nod, feeling incapable of forming words when he distracted me with his touches.  Fire coursed through my veins and it was burning but it proved just how alive I was. I'll do anything to feel alive, especially if it's with him.

With those hazel eyes peering down at me, we both rose and waved everyone off.  We start heading towards our sleeping quarters but when we we're out of sight, we take a sharp turn and walked down our usual path.

There's a tree, a tree that was built high with sturdy branches and a thick trunk.

That's where we go every night, where I go to have my way with him.

Once our tree is in sight, I feel his hand slip to the back of my neck.  I turn ever so slightly to look at him and am unable to even react to him kissing me at first.

It's not with the fire and passion it normally contains, it was a blissful, sweet kiss. It catches me off guard but I love the man enough to adjust.

My fingers slip under his jaw, tilting his head down as our lips graze gently.

But I want more, the fire in my veins needed fuel.

So I stumble to the tree, dragging him with me before pushing him up against it.

I then bring my lips to his, kissing rough and with passion buried from the depths of my soul.  The fire is erupting from my mouth and it must have scorched his because he pulled away, taking a breath before laughing.

"Where did all this love come from?  Have you been holding back this whole time?"

"Watch your tongue, you must know better than to question my undying love for you."

He just smirks, rolling his eyes as he leans his head against the tree.

"So," he prompts, "tell me then why you are kissing me as if my lips were the last spring in your sight and you were dying of thirst."

"Because, fair gentleman, tonight," I whisper, "is the last night I shall be able to love you as I do."

"But I shall forever love you."

"And I you, but I continue to crave your body against mine; however, it is treason and we shall be discovered once we disband."

He thinks about this for a moment, one arm wrapping around my neck while the other rested on the dead space of my chest.

"A problem for another day, if you ask me."

"That day shall be tomorrow."

"Then we shall worry about it then.  Let us have this night to ourselves," Gerard says after pulling me closer by my neck, whispering into the shell of my ear as his forefinger twirled a strand of my hair.

"Tonight is ours then," I whisper, crashing our lips back together as I press against him forcefully.  No questions until tomorrow?  Fine, but Gerard better hope his throat isn't too sore from moaning so he'll be able to form a sentence.

I keep him pinned as my mouth works its way down his jaw, lingering over his neck to trace his Adam's apple.  I hear a soft intake of breath and my confidence rises.

I have him wrapped around my finger and I have barely done anything at all to provoke him. I know him too well but yet, I will never tire of getting this reaction out of him.

Trailing down his neck, I make sure to avoid leaving any visible marks that would raise questions. He keeps his mouth away from my neck so I return the favor. But his body is so goddamn beautiful and I can't help but press gentle kisses against it.

When I make it to his collarbones, however, I am allowed to get as messy as I please. Tonight, I feel as though I am a wolf eating away at the first meal he's had in weeks. I know Gerard must think so too by the sound of his sexual gasps of pleasure.

I am hungry and craving this, even if we had done this a few nights before. I am thirsty for him, I need him. I always do but I can't go long without having him. He's a basic necessity of mine; I need food, water, and Gerard.

To romanticize it, he's my lifeline and I know that as long as he lives by my side, I will live as well.

Of course he needs me as much as I him, but tonight, I'll finally show him how much that really is.

Biting beneath his collarbone, I look at the colorful array of red bruises from previous bite marks lined up like soldiers. I count them; there are eight, six of which haven't healed from our last time.

He may have been the artist but I am the musician who knows exactly how to play him.

His moans urge me to continue, desperation lingering in each and every one of them.

So I do, eyes sweeping over his body and with sturdy fingers, I pop the buttons off his uniform.  It's filthy, washed very rarely and more often than not, we lie down atop of our clothes to watch the stars in the sky after sex.

I fell in love with him like that, and I continue to fall in love with him every day ever since.

Yes, I had known him before but that was different.  It was a crush, a hopeless crush of a teenager that would draw my eyes towards him when he walked by.

Now, it's different. My love for him has matured and just like water, it will never fade.

He's always by my side, to my right side, and I am always watching him.  His laugh churns my stomach like it was butter, letting butterflies with broken wings flutter about, and I can hardly breathe when he smiles my way.

I don't just like him; him being away tormented me. That's what love is, I guess.

How will I be able to handle us parting after tonight?

"I-if you do not continue...I shall take over," he whispers in my ear, having caught me staring at his chest but not in awe. I was staring into space and my eyes just happened to latch onto the most beautiful thing they could find.

"You?" I almost laugh, letting my previous thoughts escape through my pores like beads of sweat.  He has my attention again and he doesn't plan on losing it.  That much was obvious.

"Now I need to prove myself."

"That is not necessary for you are staying against this godforsaken tree until you are left trembling against me and the only thing you can say is my name."

That had been far more dirty than I had intended for it to be but it seemed to work because he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth to silence himself. Good, submit yourself to me, my love, I'll make you feel good.

I can't help but smirk, letting my tongue slide over the array of bruises before finding myself in the most awkward position imaginable.

One of Gerard's legs was still around my waist to pull us together, but now I had to somewhat crouch to be level with his chest. He didn't mind, he would do anything to be pleasured that greedy bastard.

Bucking his hips towards mine, I have to press one hand to his side to hold him still and forcefully remove his leg from my waist. I am the one in control and he needs to know that, even if a bit of me shrivels up at the small loss of contact.

My lips brushes the crevice of his muscular chest, mouth trailing to his right side as my hand crept to the opposing.

My lips find their target and I take him in my mouth, tongue swiping around teasingly before I am pressing my mouth firmly against him.

His moans ring high into the air but they turn into whimpers as I keep his hips down. He craves my touch and my skin but I won't provide that for him. Not yet at least, because I crave him too.

My right hand fumbles with the opposing side of his chest, scratching and pulling before brushing lightly with my thumb.

His nipples are erect and hard, something that surprisingly doesn't just happen to women when they're turned on.

Not that I have ever done it with a woman, but Gerard had as an experiment. We talked about it briefly and I teased him, asking if the woman found a piece of bread to shove up his ass. I still can't picture him being able to do that to anyone, but he had and he never ceases to amaze me.

I finally move down his chest, hungry kisses permitting me to leave marks on his toned abdomen. From the war, we had become extremely in shape; our bodies are hot and our stamina is high, the perfect mixture for something like this.

I am soon on my knees, eye level with his crotch. I let his pants drop to his mid-thigh, not going any lower for the sake of him needing to quickly pull them back up if one were to stumble across us.

It had happened once before and luckily as it so happens, Ross had just wanted to fuck Urie.

So I guess I did learn the names of two others but the very next day, they had died hand in hand in battle so it hadn't mattered. I hadn't known them but I couldn't say my first thought had not been 'What if this had been Gerard and I?' The thought made me shiver and despite it having been three years ago, I will never forget the way Ross' bright hazel eyes had darkened and how the next night, we found them lifeless as he had strung himself from an old dying tree.

Love conquers all, and love's troops had stormed the skinny man's body until they had left him hopelessly in love. He hadn't been able to live without his lover as I would not be able to live without Gerard.

Tears prick my eyes as I think of the scenario being different, if it had been us. So I simply shake the thought away and figure that the beautiful man before me can be used to make me forget.

"Baby," I whisper while removing my hands from his body. I lift myself from my knees in favor of a low crouch, placing my elbow on my thighs as I cup my cheeks to rest my head on my hands.

"W-why aren't you touching me?"

"Baby," I repeat again.

"Yes?" he asks quickly in order to avoid stuttering.

"I want you to..." I trail off, looking up at him as I seductively lick my fingers.

"Myself?" he almost whined, the thought of getting himself off unattractive to him when his prime source of pleasure was right before him, eye level with his crotch.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to see it at least once."

He huffs, quickly shoving three fingers into his mouth. When they were nearly dripping with saliva, he moved them down his body. He parts his ass slightly, brushing against his hole. Biting on his bottom lip, he inserted a single digit.

He moans through gritted teeth, continuing at a slow pace until he was used to how he was squeezed around his finger. When he is able to move faster, another was inserted, then another.

He rocks his hips into his hand, knuckles deep in his own ass before I take him in my mouth.

He stops suddenly, breath hitching.

I pull away, looking up at him, "That was enough for a lifetime, but keep going, this is going to be the best night of your life."

Gerard whimpers again before slowly continuing. I lick his length, slipping my tongue underneath and teasingly licking his fingers. He shivers but doesn't stop, moving faster as I feel his throbbing cock above me. I move back, tongue swirling around the head before I take him again.

After a collection of probably hours on my knees before him, I had gotten pretty good and learned what Gerard liked.

I scrape him with my teeth before taking him all, my nose pressing into his pelvis.

He's trembling beneath me, begging for more. Of course, I happily oblige to his wishes and remove my mouth with a rather loud popping sound.

I am still attached to him by strings of saliva, which he stares at and what causes him to shiver again.

I stand up, my small frame not doing much to intimidate but regardless, he watches me with desire and almost a fear of how I am going to torture him next.

But I don't plan to, he had done a good job tolerating me. I tug my own pants down slightly, revealing my own hard cock and I shiver slightly as the cool air surrounds me.

I don't waste much time, wrapping his legs around my waist and lining myself up. When I'm in, he bites down on my shoulder to contain his cry.

My hands are soon against the tree, body against Gerard's to hold his weight as I move inside of him. He'a already panting, hands scratching down my back before he begins to place kisses all around my neck. He's strong, strong enough to pleasure me while being mercilessly pounded into. He makes me moan as he moans in return.

God, how much I love Gerard.

We don't finish quickly, we never do, and hours seem to pass.

We both finish relatively around the same time and we kiss softly when I remove myself from him.

We pull our clothes back on and use the inside of our shirts to clean ourselves up before lacing the sides back together. Finally when we could take standing no more, we collapsed side by side.

My arm is beneath his waist and his head is on my shoulder. I'm still trying to catch my breath and Gerard is practically wheezing as he squeezes his eyes shut so he could bury his head further into the crook of my neck. He is on his side and pressed against me.

I run my fingers through his hair, sighing as I begin to think. Thinking leads to dangerous topics for me and it is something I really try to avoid but find myself doing even during intercourse with the man that makes my world spin.

But the night sky is beautiful when I look up and as Gerard's breathing slows, I am lulled into the back of my own brain from the peacefulness of the setting.

I think of two dead bodies, pale boys with similar features as us buried. Seeds are sprinkled over their graves and crosses were dug into the piles of dirt.

I hold Gerard closer and question our fate. Tonight is our last together, that much is certain.

Why had it been decided that we were to never end up together? Why can't I keep him? If I die tomorrow, would it be better than living a full life without him?

As if knowing what I am thinking, which he probably is, he glances up at me and places a hand over my square jaw.

"Thoughts for tomorrow, I promise you it will all work out."

After that, I nod and let my eyes close for a brief time of rest.

-

We had made our way to the camp not much later, everyone in their small cabins still asleep.

Gerard and I creep in, him hoisting me up to the upper bunk before he slips into the bottom one. They're hardly beds, more like hard slabs of wood mocking a comforter, but we have grown accustomed in our three years.

I stare at the ceiling, not sleeping anymore than I already had because I am too caught up in my thoughts.

Guns firing. Death. Victory. Separation. No Gerard. No Gerard.

No, I can't allow this, but what I can I do to prevent it? Nothing, there's nothing to be done.

Soon enough, it is morning.

I grab my musket, biting the inside of my cheek as I lay it against the wall so I can clean up my appearance. It may not be too important in the midst of battle but this would be the last Gerard would see of me. It was vain, sure, but I want him to remember me better than what I really am.

Grabbing it again, we all head out for the final battle.

Men are practically bouncing around excitedly and were actually smiling; I almost never see their smiles, but I couldn't join them, not when the man on my right will slip from my tight hold of him.

We share a look before heading out to our last day of battle and it took all of my strength not to reach for his hand.

-

We wore them down, their troops broken in defeat when they finally surrendered.  They had been under siege for three weeks so it was amazing how they had lasted nearly a month, but we won, that's all that mattered.

Hats are victoriously tossed into the air as cries of excitement escape lips.

Gerard is grinning and despite that it was my last time being with him, I find myself grinning along.

I would have kissed him, I would have, instead, he just drops his musket and wraps his long fingers around my wrist. His long, delicate fingers that had- but my thoughts of the previous night were cut short as I am suddenly being dragged into the woods.

"We don't get to celebrate?" I inquire, glancing as he grabs two packs which I assume were for both of us.

"Oh we do, we'll celebrate tonight."

I smirk and upon seeing the look, he merely rolls his eyes, "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?"

He's silent, not in a mischievous way but he can't drop the smile that's across his lips.

"Gerard...how are you planning to spend your first day of freedom?"

"I'd like it to start as the first day of the rest of my life with you."

Color rushes to my cheeks as he continues.

"To be held in your arms, to hold you in mine, and to know you're not in the arms of another.  To explore the west but not too far away.  To build a cabin and live happily with the man I love.  Marrying you would be treason but if we create our own land, we can create our own laws."

I watch the man I love drop onto a knee without the purpose of sucking me off.

"I dare ask you to marry me."

He held out a ring forged from a small twig, a small circle that must have taken time to create. It was simply the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Of course, I let him slip it into my finger.

"To freedom."