#so that for some reason means he “came out the mud”

[sapphic-agent]

I hate it here.

[hischierhoney]

Dog Days

dog dad!Nico Hischier x dog mom!reader

masterlist

summary: a dog park meet cute with the potential to change your life. or: months ago, @theemporium & i went down a spiral ab that picture of Nico & the dog with the devil horns. this fic is what came out of it. 10.1k words

warnings: mentions of alcohol, doodle slander (adopt don’t shop)

There’s a guy in the dog park who’s staring at you. Really, you should be more nervous about it, because he’s a large man, and you don’t know him, and he keeps looking at you. But his dog- Bernie, you think he called her- is cute, and she’s getting along great with your dog, so you’re a bit inclined to let it slide. Besides, he’s not being creepy. He’s probably just checking to make sure you’re okay with your dogs playing together. He’s here often- you recognize him well, but it’s the first time the dogs have taken interest in each other.

You watch another dog join the fray, some sort of hypoallergenic doodle, if you had to guess. The type that costs thousands of dollars for no apparent reason. It’s wearing a Patagonia puffy jacket, which makes you laugh. You hide it behind your hand. You watch as the dog bows low between your dog and Staring Guy’s dog, and then the doodle rolls over in the mud, and-

“Excuse me!” Someone yells. “Excuse me- hey, you! Is that your dog?”

You turn and blink, realizing the woman is talking to you. She’s storming your way in her matching Patagonia coat, face red with anger. You stare, eyes wide. Staring Guy is looking, too, not even trying to hide it now.

“Um. Which one?” You ask.

She gestures wildly. “The- that black mutt,” she hisses. You frown. “The one who was in the mud with my Bessie.”

Staring Guy snorts from his spot twenty feet away. Your eyes flicker to his, and he’s holding back laughter. You chew on your lip to keep yourself from doing the same.

“Yeah, that’s Moose,” you say, turning to look over your shoulder. Moose and Bernie have abandoned Bessie in the mud, more interested in sticks. “Sorry, is something wrong?”

“Yes! My dog is covered in mud now!” The woman snaps, and you rear your head back. “I mean, honestly-“

“Oh, yeah, she really seemed to like that puddle,” you agree, nodding. “You know how dogs are.”

She shakes her head angrily. “Not my Bessie. She’d never do that. So.”

“So?”

“So are you going to pay for her grooming? And the dry cleaner for her coat, oh, that coat-“ the woman sighs. “She’d have never done this if she hadn’t been influenced-“

You turn to look over your shoulder, to where Bessie is still rolling in the mud. “I’m sorry. Are you trying to say my dog influenced yours to roll in the mud? And now you want me to pay for- you understand how ridiculous you sound, right?”

She huffs. “Bessie is a well behaved, purebred Bernedoodle. Yours is-“

She stammers, so you fill in the gap. “Moose is a rescue.”

“Right, so-“ she waves her hand. “You see what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” You say, incredulously.

The woman is so angry, now, that her whole face has gone beet red. She lurches towards you, and you take a couple steps back. Her hands are in fists at her sides. You’re not exactly afraid of her, but you hadn’t been planning on getting into a fistfight in the dog park, and she’s making you feel a little uneasy.

“Hey,” a deep voice says. You turn and find Staring Guy, walking up with his hands in his pockets, brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”

You widen your eyes at him, praying he gets the message. He sends you a smile, turning up the corners of his mouth softly. He has a kind face, warm brown eyes, thick eyebrows that arch over them. The woman goes off on her tirade again, about her precious Bessie and your awful influence of a mutt, and how you hadn’t done anything to stop them from playing in the mud. Staring Guy’s dog comes trotting up as she goes on and on, and Moose isn’t far behind. He winds himself in front of your legs, and you reach down to fix one of his ears, the one that always gets flipped inside out. Bessie isn’t far behind. You chew on your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at the sight of her, soaked in mud.

“Oh, that’s probably Bernie’s fault, actually,” Staring Guy says, dark brows furrowed. “She really loves the mud. She’s the one who started it.”

The woman splutters. “Oh- but- well- I’m not sure-“

Staring Guy shakes his head. He takes a couple steps forward, effectively placing himself between you and her. Your heart melts just a little. Moose looks up at him, and his ear flips back inside out. You sigh at the sight of him- he is covered in mud, and it’s going to be a pain to get him cleaned up.

“I just think she should’ve tried to keep them out of the mud.” The woman says, though she’s calmed down a bit.

Staring Guy’s deep voice and large stature seem to have calmed her down a bit. If you’re being honest, he’s calmed you, too. He’d make a good mediator, you think. He’s soothing.

“It’s a dog park, not a doggy day care,” he says, voice a little bit more tense. “You’re responsible for your own dog. Says so on the sign.”

The woman huffs and looks between the two of you. She seems to realize she’s getting nowhere, and she marches off, leash in hand, headed for poor Bessie, who’s likely in for the bath of a lifetime. You and Staring Guy watch her go, staring as she stomps across the park, to the gate, and all the way out to her shiny car. She steps in a puddle on the way out and splatters mud up her jeans. You hunch over and start to giggle.

Staring Guy lets out a laugh, too. “That was fucking ridiculous,” he says.

You nod, unable to speak as the laughter takes over. Moose sits down on the grass and stares up at you. Bernie sits down next to him and does the same. They both look incredibly concerned. You wipe tears of laughter from your eyes and stand up.

“I mean, she’s probably right, Moose is definitely a bad influence,” you say, cooing down at your dog. “I mean, look at him.”

Staring Guy laughs and tilts his head. “His name’s Moose?”

“Basic, I know,” you shrug. “They were calling him that at the shelter. I felt bad changing it, so here we are.”

Staring Guy shakes his head. “No, I like it. It’s a good name. This is Bernie,” he says, nudging his dog with his knee. “And I’m Nico.”

He sticks out his hand to shake. You do so, and introduce yourself, too. He repeats your name back to you with a soft smile. Bernie seems to take this as a sign, and she walks up to you, sniffing the air, tail wagging wildly. You crouch down to pet her, running your hands through her thick, sandy fur. She pants happily.

“She’s adorable,” you say, looking up at Nico. “Golden retriever?”

He shrugs. “Mostly, I think. She’s a rescue. I thought about doing one of those dog DNA things, but…”

“It never feels important enough,” you fill in. He’s scratching Moose’s head, and he nods, grinning. “Moose is a rescue, too.”

“They’re the best kind of dogs,” he says, finding the spot behind Moose’s ear that makes his left leg thump against the ground. Nico laughs. “No Schnoodles or Whoodles for me.”

You laugh and stand up, wiping your hands on your jeans. Moose looks between you and Nico, tail wagging happily. Not for the first time, you wonder what he’s thinking. You wish you could read his mind.

“Well, we’ve got to go,” Nico says, toying with the dog leash. “But it was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you both,” you say, giving Bernie one last head pat. “Thanks for your help.”

He shrugs. “Not a problem.”

…..

Weeks slip by, and Nico stays a constant in them. Wednesdays and Fridays, you find him at the dog park in the mid afternoon, Bernie waiting eagerly for you to let moose off his leash. The two of you chat and watch your dogs play and then bid each other farewell to go back to your own lives. It’s nice. He’s nice.

“Are you busy?” Nico asks one afternoon, shoulder nearly touching yours.

Moose and Bernie are playing in a pile of leaves, a week post Bessie-mud incident. You watch as the wind picks one up, and Moose chases after it. Bernie chases after him. You turn to look at Nico, feeling slightly confused.

“Like, now?” You ask.

He nods. “Now, and for a little while? There’s this dog friendly coffee shop down the street. I was going to take Bernie there. Though maybe you’d want to come with me.”

Your heart jumps. He wants you to come with? He wants to see you outside of this dog park, outside of the primary meeting spot. He wants to see you.

You nod. “Yeah, sure, that sounds sweet. You’re not gonna murder me, right?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m not. Has anyone ever said yes to that?”

“Nope,” you say. “And I’m still alive, so it’s working.”

The two of you gather up the dogs and head for the coffee shop. They walk together happily on their leashes- matching ones from the same brand. You and Nico chat about the leashes, and dog supplies in general, and your favorite pet stores. By the time you make it to the coffee shop, you’ve run out of dog topics and moved on to other ones. You talk about coffee and New Jersey and home- which is Switzerland, for Nico, which explains the accent. You order coffee and pastries and take a seat at one of the outdoor tables. The early afternoon sun is shining down. There’s an autumn chill in the air, but the sun takes the edge off.

Nico gets dodgy when you start talking about work. At first, you wonder if he’s some sort of politician- he has the face for it- or a business guy. He doesn’t seem like the type to work in the tall buildings in the city, crunching numbers and barking orders. You’re not sure what else would’ve brought him to the US from Switzerland, though.

“D’you watch hockey?” He asks, and you blink.

“Not really,” you shrug. “It was never my thing. A few of my friends are big fans, though.”

“Of the Devils?” He asks, nodding his head down the street, where, if you walked far enough, you’d find the Prudential Center, home of New Jersey hockey.

You nod and swallow a sip of your coffee. “Mhm. S’that what you do for work? You work for the Devils?”

He shrugs, then nods. “Basically.”

You let it go, then. Maybe he’s just trying to be careful- after all, he barely knows you. You’d done the same, been careful about not telling him where you work. He seems trustworthy enough, but you can never be too careful. The two of you move on to more important topics- which donuts are best, and what the best restaurants in town are. The afternoon slips away quickly and quietly, and you only realize you’re late when your friend calls you.

“Shit,” you mutter, standing up. “I know I said I wasn’t busy but- I have to meet my friends for drinks, and I’m probably going to be late-“

“It’s okay,” Nico says, softly. “I’ve gotta go too. But this was really nice.”

You smile softly. “It was. We should do it again sometime.”

You both wave goodbye and take off down the street in different directions- you, back towards your apartment to drop off Moose, and him towards his, you assume. You can’t wipe the smile off your face the whole way, and it’s still stuck there by the time you slip into the booth at the restaurant a half hour later.

“I’m so sorry,” you gush, as your friend Alyssa sends you a glare. “I was out at the dog park with Moose, and then I lost track of time, and-“

Your other friend Nora laughs. “Were you too busy staring at Dog Park Guy?”

Your face grows hot. “His name’s Nico.”

Both of them blink at you. “Did you actually talk to him?”

You let out a long sigh and launch into the story- Bessie and her bitchy owner, Nico’s rescue, the increased interactions, and the cafe today. Their eyes grow impossibly wider.

“Sounds like a meet cute,” Nora squeals.

“If he’s cute,” Alyssa adds.

You roll your eyes and ignore the looks they’re giving you. “We’re just friends. Because our dogs are friends.”

“Like I said,” Nora says. “Cute.”

Eventually they drop the subject. You have your drinks and catch up, and make plans to hang out again the next night. Alyssa wants to watch the hockey game. She’s the biggest Devils fan you know, could name every player and all of their stats. You and Nora agree to watch, as long as she provides the alcohol.

You show up just after the game starts the next afternoon, Moose in tow. You snag a plate and grab some snacks and join Alyssa on the couch.

“Can you grab me a beer?” You call out to Nora, who’s in the kitchen.

She returns with a bottle in hand, passing it off to you. You thank her and curl up further on the couch, turning to look at the TV. You wonder if Nico’s working, if he has to be at the games or if he does more of the behind the scenes stuff. Maybe he runs the charity branch. That would fit him. You take a sip of your beer, and then nearly spit it right back out.

You turn to Alyssa, who has the remote, and make a frantic gesture. “Rewind it.”

“What?” She asks, not looking away from the TV. “It’s a power play, I’m not gonna-“

“Rewind it,” you say again, reaching for the remote. “Lyss, just-“

“What’s wrong?” Nora asks, frowning at you. “You don’t care about hockey.”

“No, I know, I just- I thought I saw someone,” you say, staring at the screen.

“In the crowd?” Nora asks. You don’t answer, so she says your name. “Babe, what is going on?”

Before you can answer, Alyssa throws her hands up in the air and cheers. Goal. The puck is in the back of the net, and the camera zooms in on the player who scored- number 86, the name Hughes emblazoned on his back. One of his teammates comes skating towards him, nearly shoving him into the wall, and-

You gasp when the camera settles on his face. Number 13, Hischier. Nico Hischier, you would assume, unless Dog Park Nico has a doppleganger hanging around Newark. A doppleganger who also works for the Devils. You work for the Devils? Basically. Oh. Nora doesn’t seem to notice anything, but Alyssa turns to you slowly, eyes wide.

“Wait,” she says. “You wanted me to rewind it, to where?”

“It’s fine,” you mutter.

She’s staring at you, while you stare at the TV screen. “You said Dog Park Guy’s name was Nico,” she says, brows furrowed. “What’s his last name?”

You shrug. “Haven’t asked him yet.”

She blinks once, then twice, and when you see Nico on the screen again, you must react, because she leans over and grabs your face. She pulls you to look at her, then at the screen. She grabs the remote and pauses it, and Nico’s face fills up the whole picture. He’s grinning wide.

“What’s happening right now?” Nora asks. “Somebody fill me in.”

Alyssa points at the screen. “That man, right there, is the team captain. Hischier,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect. “Nico Hischier.”

Nora gasps. You shrink down into yourself. You can’t exactly tear your eyes from the screen. It’s definitely him. You’d know that face anywhere. You can see the smile, can picture it in the dog park as he pets your dog.

“Is that Dog Park Guy?” Nora asks. You nod, figuring there’s no point in lying now. “Oh my god, you didn’t mention he was hot.”

Alyssa groans. “I’ve never been more jealous of you in my life.”

“You’re engaged,” Nora reminds her.

“I know,” Alyssa sighs. “But god, he’s dreamy.”

Nora nods. You curl further in on yourself and reach for the remote to hit play. The game starts back up again, and you try to pretend you’re not watching for his number. Nora and Alyssa don’t let it go for the rest of the night. You have a feeling they won’t be letting it go for a while.

When you see him next Wednesday at the dog park, you greet him with, “Hiya, Cap.”

You’ve walked up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Bernie and Moose are rolling around in fallen leaves. Nico smiles at you at first, and then, as if he’s realized what you said, he jolts. His brows furrow, and you grin.

“You work for the Devils, huh?” You tease, grinning widely.

His cheeks go red, and he laughs. “You said you didn’t care about hockey.”

“I don’t,” you admit. “But my friend Alyssa does, and she had the game on when I was at her place the other day, and imagine my surprise when I looked up at the screen and saw you on the ice.”

He smiles sheepishly and shakes his head. “Honestly, I didn’t tell you because I thought it’d come off as bragging.”

Moose barks, and you both turn to look, but he’s just playing with Bernie. The two of them have found a stick in the leaves, and they’re pulling back and forth. Bernie has a leaf stuck to her nose, and it makes you smile even more.

“It’s pretty cool, though, isn’t it?” You ask. “Lyss said you’re like. A rockstar. Team captain, first round draft pick-“

“Oh, she went way back,” he teases.

“She’s a Jersey girl,” you say with a shrug. “You’re lucky she’s already engaged or she’d be here, too.”

He laughs louder at that, and his shoulder bumps against yours. Across the grass, your dogs roll around on the ground, happy as can be. It makes you smile wider, makes your heart warm.

…..

Early fall turns into late fall, a change that brings with it colder weather, something you’re already regretting not noticing. Nico frowns when he sees you in the park. He makes his way over as Bernie runs to greet Moose, and he has his brows furrowed. He’s wearing a beanie and a thick hoodie, and you envy him.

“Almost didn’t recognize you,” he says, tugging at the hood of your thin sweatshirt, which you have pulled tightly over your head. “Where’s your coat? And a beanie, maybe?”

You shrug and bury your hands deeper in your pockets- you don’t want him to see you’re not wearing gloves either. “I live on the third floor. It looked warm out, and by the time I got outside, there was no way I was dragging him back upstairs.”

You shrink slightly under the disapproving look he gives you. He sighs heavily, and you smile at him, like that’ll make it better. You want nothing more than to bury your face in his chest, press yourself into his body and soak up some of the heat. You’re sure he’s warm. He just looks like he runs warm.

You don’t stay long at the park, because your hands are freezing and so is your face. Nico bids you farewell with a little wave, and you rush home to your warm apartment.

Two days later, when you show up to the dog park, Nico’s already there. Bernie’s running circles around him, barking happily. She skids to a stop when she spots Moose, and you let him off the leash to join her. Nico waves, a big grin on his face as the two dogs take off together.

“Still no beanie?” He teases, shaking his head.

“I thought the cold day was a fluke,” you mutter grumpily, hands shoved in your pockets. “I worked from home today. I didn’t know it was this cold.”

Nico continues to shake his head. His next move is so unexpected you don’t quite realize what he’s doing until it’s over- he pulls a beanie from his pocket and pulls it onto your head for you, adjusting it carefully with narrowed eyes. You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. Then he slips his jacket off his shoulders.

“Nico-“ you protest as he wraps it around you.

“I wore layers, and I’m warm,” he says, holding the jacket around your shoulders and waiting until you slip your arms through the sleeves reluctantly. “Better?”

His jacket is warm and cozy, and you smile and nod. “Much better.”

He grins back, eyes crinkling at the edges. His cheeks are flushed, and it makes your face feel warm, too. You shove your hands in your pockets- his pockets- and turn back to watch the dogs, standing almost shoulder to shoulder with him. The very first flakes of snow of the year begin to fall. Moose and Bernie don’t seem to notice. If Nico notices the way you lean close to him, trying to shelter yourself from the cold, he doesn’t say anything.

…..

The next time you see Nico, he’s stressed. He’s got his beanie off, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. Bernie, as if she senses his distress, is sitting at his feet patiently, even though her leash is off. You let Moose run over. He sniffs at Bernie, then at Nico’s knee, and whines.

“You’re really bringing down the mood,” you call out.

Nico’s head whips up, bottom lip still tugged between his teeth. Something twists in your chest. You don’t like to see him upset like this, you realize. You’re growing far too attached. And yet. Here you are.

You cock your head questioningly. “You okay?”

He sighs. “Sorry. Yeah. Just- my usual dog sitter apparently moved and didn’t tell me until this morning, and I have to be out of town starting tomorrow, and so now I’m trying to find someone to watch her or somewhere to board her and-“

“I can take her,” you blurt out.

His rambling comes to a screeching halt, and he blinks at you. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, or…”

“Don’t be silly,” you say, shaking your head and smiling. “Her and Moose get along great, and I already know half of her routine. And I think she likes me alright, too. It wouldn’t be a hassle.”

Nico puffs out his cheeks, glancing up at the sky. “That would be… are you sure? Because. I mean-“

“Nico,” you say, softly. His gaze flickers back to yours. “I’d love to watch her. How long are you gonna be gone?”

He bites his lip again. “Friday through Sunday.”

You nod. “Easy peasy.”

You should probably be expecting it, just because it seems like something he would do, but you yelp a little when he hauls you against his chest. You hug him back, though, and laugh into his shoulder, and the dogs both bark at your feet. Then Bernie takes off running, as if she knows everything is fine now. Moose follows happily.

“Thank you,” he says, chest rumbling against you, and your breath catches.

“Anytime,” you respond. You mean it.

He drops Bernie off the next morning before you start work for the day. He texts you from the lobby of your apartment building to let you know they’re headed up, which is sweet. You hear Bernie before he knocks on the door, and when you open it, Moose perks up from his dog bed. He’s up within seconds, tail wagging, searching through his pile of toys for one to bring Bernie.

“Look at them,” you coo, watching the two dogs greet each other happily. “We’re gonna have such a fun weekend, aren’t we, Bernie?”

Nico’s smiling, too, when you look up and meet his gaze. He has a dog bed tucked under one arm, and a bag of other supplies in the other. You let the dogs play while he unpacks the stuff on your kitchen counter and tells you what little you don’t know about Bernie’s routine. When she eats, what toys are her favorites, and so on.

“Normally I tell people about the dog park,” he says, smiling sheepishly. “But you already know that.”

You nod eagerly. In the living room, Bernie is sniffing Moose’s dog bed.

“Oh, um. Sometimes for the first bit she won’t want to eat,” he says. “I got her when she was young, and it was during the lockdown, so. She wasn’t used to being away from me. She’s gotten better about it, but… if she goes too long, you can put a little cheese on her food and that usually helps.”

You nod in understanding. “Moose was the same the first time I left him. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her.”

Nico laughs. “I think this is actually the least worried I’ve been about leaving her, ever.”

You set up Bernie’s dog bed in the living room, a little ways away from Moose’s to give them each their space. Nico lays out her favorite toys for her, and a threadbare red hoodie that you’d bet used to be his. He wavers in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, watching as Bernie inspects her stuff. It makes your chest ache a little bit. He seems reluctant to leave.

“D’you have time to sit for a little bit?” You ask. “I have plenty of coffee.”

He turns over his shoulder and grins. “Coffee would be great.”

It should probably feel strange, to have Dog Park Guy sitting at your kitchen table, sipping coffee out of a big mug that looks small in his hands, but it doesn’t. It feels almost natural. Like this was always how this was going to go. He tells you about the away game he’s going to play, about their odds and the other team and how he’s stuck sharing a hotel room with Jack, who he loves but who also talks in his sleep loudly and denies it. You laugh and commiserate & complain to him about your work day, which is full of meetings. By the time the coffee is gone, he doesn’t really seem to want to leave, but he tells you he has to finish packing and get to the rink, and you’ve got a meeting anyways, so. You walk him to the door. He crouches down to pet Bernie one more time, and lets out a big sigh.

“I’ll see you all soon,” he says, smiling. “Have a good weekend.”

Bernie sits down and stares at him. You see his smile waver, so you step forward and pat the top of her head gently, then scratch behind her ears the way you’ve seen Nico do so often.

“Be safe,” you tell him. “We’ll be here waiting.”

Bernie does get a little sad just after he leaves. You feel for her, because you’re strangely sad about him being gone, too. You take most of your work meetings from the couch so she can curl up with her head on your lap. Moose keeps bringing over his favorite toys and dropping them off for her, but she doesn’t take much interest. Nico texts around lunchtime, just before he’s getting on a plane, and asks how it’s going. You send back a picture of her head in your lap, your work meeting in the background.

she seems very interested in Carol’s progress report.

Nico sends back a little laughing emoji, and then She looks cozy. Thank you again!

After work, you leash up both dogs and walk down to the dog park. You want to keep Bernie’s routine as consistent as possible. The two of them do so well together, walking happily, never tugging on the leashes. You snap a pic of them, and send that to Nico, too. He probably won’t see it for a while.

Once you’re at the dog park, you let them off leash to run around. They take off together, barking happily, kicking up piles of dead leaves like the always do. You sit on a bench and fight the urge to text Nico.

It’s just that in the couple of months since you finally spoke to him, you’ve found yourself really looking forward to your dog park chats. Venting about your days or catching up or telling fun stories about your dogs. It’s not the first time he’s been gone, but it’s the first time it’s hit you like this. It’s odd.

You take them both home eventually, calling them over and clipping on the leashes. Back in your apartment, it’s dinnertime- you heat up leftovers for yourself and give the dogs their food. You try not to watch Bernie like a hawk. Nico had said she might not want to eat at first. But when you do sneak a peek, they’re both eating happily. You breathe a sigh of relief- she must feel comfortable enough.

They wander off into the living room before you do, and what you find makes you stop in your tracks. Bernie’s got her dog bed in her mouth, dragging it over next to Moose’s. He sits on his bed happily, wagging his tail at you. Bernie drops the bed and immediately curls up on it, letting out one of her signature big sighs, the ones that Nico always copies. You let out a matching sigh, and she wags her tail.

You snap a picture of the two of them curled up next to each other and send it off to Nico.

He replies just before you roll over to go to sleep. Did she move her bed??

Yup, you answer. Ate all her dinner, too

He takes a while to type his response.

Adorable. Thank you. Again.

…..

You’re not a hockey fan. You know this about yourself. You’ve watched games enough times to know this. But when Saturday rolls around, you turn on the game anyway. Bernie should watch the game, after all. She should watch her dad play.

You cuddle up on the couch with both dogs, who are definitely paying less attention to the screen than you are. They both fall asleep halfway through the first period, and you roll your eyes. You could turn it off, but you find that you don’t want to. It’s suddenly different when you have a reason to be invested. Nico’s on the ice, at least for some of the time.

When he scores, you cheer so loudly you startle both dogs awake. They look around, bewildered. You snap a pic of the two of them with the tv in the background and send it to him.

Bernie & Moose say good job!!

He doesn’t answer until you’re in bed for the night, again. Time differences and media responsibilities and all that. He heart reacts to the photo, and then you watch him type for a couple moments, the little dots bouncing at the bottom of the screen.

How’d you like the game? He asks.

You waffle a bit on what to say back. You wonder if he’s paying enough attention to notice you’re taking a while to answer, or if he’s moved on.

You settle for sending back, it’s a lot more fun to watch when i’m cheering for you

He’s typing back nearly immediately. My good luck charm!

You laugh and lock the phone, setting it down on the nightstand. Bernie and Moose are curled up in bed with you, snoring away. You’re not sure why you feel so happy, but you hope it brings you good dreams.

Nico gets back into town late Sunday afternoon.

There’s a knock on your apartment door. From the couch, you call out “Come in!”

You hear him kick off his shoes in the entryway as he calls out a greeting. He pads towards the living room, and you lean up slightly to see him as he walks in.

“You should really lock your door, you know,” he says. “I could’ve been anyone.”

“But you’re you,” you lilt as he rounds the corner of the couch. “Besides, I’ve got my guard dogs.”

He eyes you skeptically. The dogs are in their same spots as the picture you sent him yesterday. Moose is curled against your chest, while Bernie is laid out over your legs. You’re tucked under a blanket, smiling up at him. Neither of the dogs have moved a muscle, from the knock on the door until now.

“Great guard dogs,” Nico teases.

“Well, they know you. Bernie, look who’s here,” you say. His dog lifts her head, wagging her tail slightly. You shrug. “Guess she likes me more.”

“Can’t blame her,” Nico says, stretching his arms above his head. “You guys look cozy.”

“And you look tired.”

You’re not trying to be mean, but he does. There are purple shadows beneath his eyes, his hair is a mess. The scrubs along his jaw looks to be at least a day old, by your guess.

He snorts. “Thanks. I am.”

You pout. “You could join us, if you want.”

You shift your feet slightly to open up a space for him on the other end of the couch. He eyes the spot with a tired gaze, scrubbing his hand against his jaw. You’re trying to ask casually, to pretend like it won’t make a difference to you one way or the other if he stays or not, but you really do hope he sits down. You’ve missed him- it’s almost embarrassing how much you’ve missed him.

“If I do that I’m definitely gonna pass out,” he warns, voice quieter. “Probably for an extended period of time.”

You nod. “I’d expect nothing less.”

He huffs and drops his car keys on the coffee table. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You laugh when he climbs his way onto the couch. He sits down at the opposite end, his legs side by side with yours. The dogs move to accommodate him, though not without their own grumbling about it. Bernie finally gives in and gets excited to see him, fumbling her way onto his lap. He wraps his arms around his dog and snuggles in, all while you watch, unable to pull your gaze away, heart pounding in your chest. He’s here, in your apartment, on your couch. He looks so soft.

When he falls asleep in no more than ten minutes, it makes you feel even warmer. He trusts you enough to fall asleep here. Bernie is curled against his chest, also falling asleep, reunited at last. You find yourself dozing off, too, brought on by how comfortable it all feels.

You wake up to Bernie pacing back and forth on the living room floor, and Moose standing on the couch, his nose in Nico’s face. You scramble to push the dog away with muffled words and limited success. Nico sniffles and raises his head, scrunching his eyes shut in the face of the sun coming in through your window.

“Sorry,” you whisper, fighting the urge to brush strands of his hair from his eyes. “They're getting antsy.”

He’s adorable when he’s just woken up, eyes barely open, cheeks flushed. He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand and pets Moose with the other. You get up and start to gather the dogs’ things while he continues to wake up. By the time you’ve got them both leashed up, he’s sitting up on the couch, brighter eyes than before.

“Best nap of my life,” he says.

You think of how much you wanted to cuddle up on his chest, and you wonder if that would take the winning spot.

Nico puts on his jacket at the door, taps his foot impatiently until you roll your eyes and pull on a jacket of your own, and then the two of you head out, dogs in tow. You keep your hands shoved in your pockets, but when you get to the dog park he hands you a pair of gloves, glaring playfully at you. You put them on, feeling warm and fuzzy, and not just from the fabric around your hands. You let the dogs off the leashes in the fenced in area, and you watch them run off through the light snow.

You bump your elbow against his. “You okay? You’re quiet.”

He nods, leans towards you until you’re shoulder to shoulder. “Yeah. M’good. Just tired.”

You nod in understanding. “C’mon, let’s sit.”

You head over to a nearby bench and sink down. He follows suit. And. It’s cold, so really, that’s probably why he sits so close, his thigh against yours, his side pressed to your side. But then he shifts slightly, and his arm falls to the top of the bench behind you. You try not to hold your breath. Across the park, Bernie and Moose bark happily. You lean your head against Nico’s shoulder, and he sighs happily, resting his head against yours.

He sighs. “Wake me up when they’ve worn themselves out.”

He’s joking- he doesn’t fall asleep, you’d be able to tell. You can feel his breaths, can feel him shift every so often, and he laughs when the dogs tackle each other in the snow. But he stays right there, curled against you, warmer than any jacket or pair of gloves could ever be.

…..

When people say it takes a village, you’re pretty sure it could be said about having dogs, too. You’re amazed at how much easier things are when you have Nico to help out. He’s insistent that he owes you one for watching Bernie, but it really turns into the two of you just trading dog duties.

You get held over at the office on one of the rare days you have to be in person, and he picks up Moose and takes him along to the park with Bernie. Nico gets stuck in traffic on the way home from a game in New York City, and you do the same, leaving a container of leftovers in the fridge for him, too. The dog park meetups and coffee shop hangouts keep happening, much to your benefit. You like spending time with him. Probably a bit more than is healthy, really, but you can’t exactly help it. He’s sweet, and funny, and handsome, too, to top it all off.

When you call him early on a Tuesday evening, you know he’ll pick up, because he’s done with practice for the day. He probably assumes you’re checking what time he’s going to be at the dog park, or letting him know you and Moose won’t be there. He gets nervous, now, if you don’t show up. Texts to make sure you’re alright. It’s endearing.

“Hello,” he says. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break Bernie’s heart and miss out on the dog park tonight.”

“Hi, no- my… my power’s out,” you say, sounding as frantic as you feel. “And like. It’s fine, I’ll survive, but it’s already cold in here, and Moose is giving me evil eyes. But I can’t find any dog friendly hotels, so I was wondering if maybe you could take him for the night-“

Nico laughs on the other end. “Come stay with us. Both of you.”

You pause your digging through the cupboards. “Oh, you don’t have to- that’s okay, Nico-“

“I mean it,” he says, firmly. “I’ve got a spare bedroom. And I just ordered way too much pizza, actually. Come over, bring Moose. Bernie’s bored, anyways.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you tell him.

“You could never,” he says. “If you’re not here within a half hour, I’m driving over there to pick you up.”

He hangs up before you can protest again, and you turn to Moose with a sigh. Then you start packing for both of you. 20 minutes later, you’re in the elevator up to Nico’s place, trying not to freak out about all of it.

He lets you in before you even have a chance to knock. Maybe it’s just the fact that your place was cold, but when he ushers you inside, it feels like he’s cranked the heat up a few degrees. Bernie comes racing to the entryway, whining excitedly at the sight of Moose, and you grin down at the two dogs. Then you look up at Nico and find him smiling, too.

“I’ll show you to the guest room,” he offers, nodding his head towards the rest of the apartment. “Pizza should be here any minute.”

It all feels oddly domestic, staying with him. You eat dinner together and watch the news- a habit he picked up from a roommate back in his days playing hockey in Canada, he tells you. Moose and Bernie cuddle up in the middle between the two of you, which you sort of hate. You want an excuse to lean into his side.

You get one when you get up to go to the bathroom. You come back, and both dogs have moved into your spot. Nico smiles up at you and shrugs, patting the spot right next to him. You take a seat without protesting, settling into the soft sofa. He moves the blanket he’s been using so it falls over your lap and rests his arm on the back of the couch behind your head. It probably means nothing, but being so close to him feels nice. Comforting.

When you start to doze off, he nudges you awake and towards the guest room. You fight the urge to lean up and kiss his cheek when he says goodnight. Moose follows you into the room, and you shut the door behind you.

You want to kiss Nico. This is becoming a problem.

It’s just. He’s nice. He’s sweet. He’s a good friend, he helps you take care of your dog, he’s letting you stay with him. But he’s an athlete, and they usually date other famous people, not their dog park friends. You’ve got no chance, probably.

You would roll over and scream into the pillow, but you’re afraid he’d hear it anyways.

…..

You’re standing in his kitchen early the next morning when the front door creaks open. You freeze in surprise- you’d assumed from the fan running in Nico’s bedroom, and the quiet of the apartment, that he’d still been asleep. Maybe he’d gone out for a run already, or had gone to take Bernie for a walk. Footsteps echo in the entryway, and you hear someone trip over a pair of shoes. The muttered swear word is definitely not said in Nico’s voice, and panic bites at your chest. You reach for one of the knives on the counter and hold it at your side. Moose, seeming to sense your anxiety, steps in front of your legs. Your phone sits too far away on the counter, and you swallow. You could yell for Nico, but then whoever is in his apartment would hear you, too.

The footsteps fall closer. The man appears in the doorway to the kitchen, and he jumps nearly a foot in the air at the sight of you, hand pressed to his chest. He looks familiar, with his almost shoulder length hair tucked behind his ears- one of Nico’s teammates. There’s a photo of the two of them hanging on the wall in the living room. You drop the knife on the counter discreetly when he isn’t looking.

“You’re not Nico,” he says, leaning on the counter.

“Neither are you,” you state, heart still racing.

He laughs at that and eyes the dog in front of you. “And that’s not Bernie, huh?”

He leans towards the dog, and Moose presses against your legs and growls. You gasp. Apparently, he hasn’t quite gotten the memo that whoever this guy is, he isn’t a threat. You reach for his collar.

“Moose,” you say in a scolding tone.

“Oh,” the man says, drawing out the noise, a look of understanding washing over his face. “Cool wolf. Is he gonna bite me? I have hockey practice later.”

There’s a flurry of noise before you can respond, and Bernie comes loping into the kitchen. She beelines for the guy, and at that, Moose lets his guard down, his tail wagging happily again. You roll your eyes. A great guard dog until his friend likes the guy, then all bets are off. Nico appears in the kitchen, scratching his head, and his eyes go wide when he spots his teammate.

“Jack,” he says, and the man turns to look at him. “What are you doing here?”

The man rubs his face sheepishly. Your dog scurries over to Nico, sniffing at his ankles excitedly. Your gaze bounces back and forth between the two men.

“You’re Jack,” you say, looking at the early morning intruder.

He nods.

You laugh. “I hear you talk in your sleep.”

Nico sighs while Jack tries desperately to deny it.

Ten minutes later, once Nico’s explained the whole situation, they head off on a run. They take Bernie and Moose with them, on Nico’s suggestion, because both dogs could use a bit of exercise, and, in his words, Jack could use a bit of motivation. While they’re out, you take a moment to tidy up your stuff, and you do the dishes from the night before. Nico had insisted you were welcome to any of the food in the house, so you whip up a light breakfast of cut fruit and yogurt, making sure to save some for him.

He returns a while later, both dogs in tow, minus Jack. He gives you a sheepish smile, sweaty locks of hair falling over his forehead. His t-shirt is clinging to his skin, damp with sweat despite the chill outside. You chew on a piece of strawberry and try not to stare at him.

“Sorry about him,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “I forgot he was coming over. He called, but I had my phone turned down and I slept through it.”

You shrug. “Nico, it’s fine, it’s your apartment,” you say. “Though I did have a knife ready, so he’s lucky he didn’t get stabbed.”

Nico laughs and takes a couple steps into the kitchen, leaning on his hands on the counter. “The Devils hockey organization thanks you for your hesitation.”

You laugh and nod. “I have breakfast, if you want some.”

When he squeezes your shoulder as he walks by, you try not to let it show how nice it feels.

“Thanks, schatz,” he says.

You don’t know much German, but you’re pretty sure that doesn’t mean friend.

…..

Nico goes to practice a bit later and then comes back. The power at your place stays out for the rest of the day. You keep checking, trying to make sure. Realistically, now, you could call Alyssa or Nora and ask to stay with them, instead, but when you offer, Nico looks offended at the suggestion.

He’s laying on the floor with Bernie and Moose both sprawled over him. “I mean. If you want to go, you can, obviously.”

“I just don’t want to overstay my welcome,” you tell him.

He shakes his head and lets it drop back to the floor. Moose shoves his nose under Nico’s chin. “You’re not.”

That’s pretty much the end of the discussion. The two of you take the dogs out to a nearby cafe for a late lunch, a place Nico tells you is dog friendly. He makes sure you’re both bundled up adequately for the chilly walk there and back. In the afternoon, you get some work done on your laptop, Bernie’s head on your lap, while Nico scrolls aimlessly on his phone and plays tug of war with Moose. The routine feels scarily easy to settle into. You make dinner together, pasta and chicken and broccoli. You move around one another with ease, like moons in each other’s orbits. The dogs wait patiently in the living room while you cook. Nico gives them pieces of chicken for their good behavior, and then you dish out dog food while he refills their water bowls. It’s nice. It’s so nice. You’re trying desperately not to get attached to this, to him.

You wake up the next morning to Moose and Bernie in your bed, a text from Nico saying he took them on their morning walk before he left for morning skate, and an alert from your apartment complex that the power is back on. You sigh, kiss the top of Bernie’s head, and roll back over in bed.

He’s gone for most of the day, today, between practices and media requirements and meetings with the team that he’d complained about to you the night before. You could pack up and leave before he gets back, but then you’d be leaving Bernie alone, and it feels weird to not say goodbye to Nico after he let you stay here. So you spend the day how you were planning to, and gather up your things bit by bit.

Nico comes home in the afternoon when you’re halfway packed, and he stands in the doorway of the guest room, seemingly hesitant. He’s frowning. Your heart lurches.

“My power’s back on,” you say quietly.

“Oh,” he responds. “Right. That’s, uh, that’s good.”

You nod. “Just realized I’ll probably have to clean out my fridge, and get new groceries, but yeah. I’ll be out of your hair.”

He frowns, nose wrinkling. “You weren’t in my hair.”

You blink at him. “I just meant… you can have your own space back. You must be sick of us by now.”

Nico wavers, shifting back and forth on his feet. You’re holding one of your t-shirts, and you pull it close to your chest. There’s something hanging in the air.

“I don’t think I’d ever get sick of you,” he says. A spark runs down your spine. “I liked having you here.”

You blink, unsure what to do with yourself suddenly. “I, uh, liked being here. You’re a great host, you know.”

He shrugs, then nods. He opens his mouth, closes it, repeats the motion. Then he releases his grip on the doorframe and takes a couple steps into the room. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, and you try to keep your breathing steady as he walks towards you.

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” He asks, looking hopeful.

You blink up at him, the corner of your lips tugging upwards. “Guess it depends on what we’re having.”

You’re trying to be brave about this. Trying to go with the flow, be casual. Maybe he’s just got a meal planned for two, maybe he needs your help to make it. You don’t want to read into it, even as he comes so close that you could reach out and touch him, that you can smell his shampoo and cologne. One of the dogs barks in the living room. You both ignore it, unable to tear your eyes away from each other. The air feels electric.

His hand comes up to touch your cheek, fingertips featherlight. You swallow. Your heart is pounding in your chest. He’s grinning, like he knows it. So sure of whatever he’s about to say.

“I thought maybe we could go out,” he says, casually. “Just me and you, somewhere nice. Let the dogs hang out here and keep each other company.”

You blink, take a breath, nod. “Okay. I can stay for dinner.”

“Cool,” he says, trying to be nonchalant about it. His wide grin gives him away. “Then it’s a date.”

Your breath catches in your chest, but you nod. “It’s a date.”

When he leans down and kisses your cheek, you swear the world stops spinning. When he pulls away it spins faster than it ever has before. You watch him walk away, dumbfounded, heart racing, skin burning.

All that worrying about it all, and it was that easy?

…..

At dinner, you both come to terms with the fact that you can’t really call this your first date. The two of you are too comfortable already, too at ease with each other. Nico claims the real first date was the coffee shop, months ago. You claim it was the day he came to pick up Bernie and took a nap on your couch.

“So I was asleep for half of our first date?” He says, nose wrinkled. “No thank you.”

“Well if it was the coffee shop, then I didn’t get your number for weeks after,” you retort. “So that would be weird.”

Eventually the two of you decide to agree to disagree. Maybe it happened somewhere in the middle without you even realizing. But now it feels official and real, over seafood and wine and warm bread. Nico’s face is lit by the candles on the table, and he holds your hand half the night.

Hours later, you stumble out of the restaurant, wine tipsy and giggling as you lean against his arm. He’s laughing, too, until he’s not, until he’s holding you by your hips on an empty sidewalk, waiting for a cab to roll by. You stare up at him, the dark night sky and city lights behind his head.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, quietly.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you reply.

Nico kisses exactly the way you’d imagined- soft and sweet, at first, in a way that makes you feel everything. And then his tongue slips past your lips and his grip on your hips tightens and you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life. It’s a bit all consuming, threatens to leave you breathless, sends shocks across your skin.

He gets you into a cab and gives his address, and then he leans against you, his lips against your temple, his hand intertwined with yours. He speaks quietly against your skin.

“I’ll follow your lead here,” he says, quietly. “If you wanna take Moose and head home, I completely understand.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Okay,” you say, deciding to leave him hanging. He laughs against your skin like he knows what you’re doing.

When the car pulls up in front of Nico’s apartment building, you step outside while he pays the fare. He grabs your hand again to lead you inside, through the lobby, and towards the elevator. He’s watching your every move, you can feel it- he’s trying to read you. You think he probably sees right through your little game, but that’s okay.

When the elevator doors slide closed, you turn to him, threading your hand through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“You should ask me to stay over,” you whisper, leaning up to brush your lips against his ear.

He groans softly, his hand falling to rest on your hip. “Yeah?”

You nod.

He swallows. “You want to stay over?” He asks, voice breathy. His stubble scrapes against your cheek as he brushes a kiss there.

You lean in to kiss him again. You think that’s answer enough.

The two of you tumble into his apartment a few minutes later, hands wrapped tightly in each other’s. You muffle your giggles with your other hand, and Nico does the same with his own. The dogs are curled up on their dog beds in the living room, snoring away. You take off your shoes carefully, and the two of you tiptoe through the apartment. If you wake Moose, he’ll be needy, begging for attention. Bernie will be the same with Nico.

You make it to the bedroom, and within seconds, Nico’s on you, pressed up against the closed bedroom door. He latches his lips onto your neck, and you sigh happily. His hands are already roaming everywhere, and your whole body is on fire.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks, between kisses, and you melt.

“Positive,” you say, already gasping for air. “Please, Nico.”

He groans into your skin, and you both start to fall apart.

Later, you lay in bed, your cheek against his bare chest. His hand sweeps up and down your back smoothly. You can hear his heart beating, feel the soft rise and fall of his breaths. There’s a lot of things you want to say, but they all feel far too intimate for a first time on a maybe third date, so you keep your mouth shut. You settle for drawing shapes on his skin until he shivers and laughs.

Seconds later, there’s a dog scratching at the door. Moose whines. Then, so does Bernie. You groan into Nico’s chest.

“They’re so needy,” you grumble.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” he responds.

He pulls away before you can retaliate, reaching for his t-shirt and tossing it to you. You pull it on as he tugs on a pair of shorts. Then he opens the door. Two fur covered, heat seeking missiles come shooting onto the bed, barreling into you, making themselves comfortable atop the covers. Nico crawls back into bed before he loses his spot, nudging Bernie out of the way so he can pull you back into his arms.

Moose rests his head against your side. You rub behind his ears as Nico does the same with Bernie. Something about this moment just feels right. The way the four of you all curl up together, around each other, held tight and warm and safe.

Nico kisses your forehead. “Goodnight.”

You kiss his shoulder. “G’night, Nico.”

In the dark, Bernie whines.

“And goodnight to you too, Berns,” you laugh, reaching over to pat her head.

…..

Nico stops in the parking lot, his arm around the back of your seat. You continue staring out the windshield. In the backseat, Bernie and Moose wag their tails happily. You hope he can’t see where you’re holding onto the seat tightly with your right hand.

“Hey,” he says. His hand brushes against your shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“What if they all hate me?” You ask.

Nico scoffs. “Then they’re all stupid.”

“Nico…”

“Baby,” he murmurs, leaning over, pressing his lips to your temple. “You met Jack, scared the shit out of him, and he still asks about you all the time. And you’ll have the dogs. That’ll win them over immediately.”

You sigh and wipe your sweaty hands on your pants. “You’re their captain. What if I don’t live up to the… I don’t know, Nico-“

He cups your face in his hand and turns your head towards his. There’s a soft, kind smile on his face. You bite your lip.

“You don’t need to live up to anything,” he says, firmly. “I want you there, that’s enough. And if you want to leave, you just tell me. We’ve got the dogs as an excuse.”

You nod. He pinches your cheek lightly, and you laugh. When he climbs out of the car, you follow suit. Moose and Bernie are itching to get out of the backseat- you each unbuckle one dog and get them ready to go inside.

In the stadium, he stops and helps you get the dogs ready- winter coats for them to wear, little shoes to protect their feet that you’ve been getting them used to for months now. Moose still glares at you a bit when you first put them on, but he gets over it quickly.

Nico laces up his own skates and helps you, too, and then it’s out onto the rink, under the lights, staring up at the big empty stadium. The dogs stay close at first, getting used to the slippery surface.

Everyone is here- his teammates, their families, their friends. When he’d invited you, you’d nearly broken down into tears- you know how much it means to him, how much he loves this team and this sport. You’re honored he wants to share it with you. You were the one who suggested bringing the dogs, too. Now, out on the ice, you’re thrilled it all ended up like this.

“Cool wolf,” Jack says, as he skates by. “Hey, Luke- you know what his name is?”

Luke shakes his head.

“Moose,” Jack says, and Luke sighs. “Which one of you is the cuter one, huh?”

“Definitely the dog,” Nico says, squeezing your hand.

“You all suck,” Luke says. He turns to you and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Not you. You seem great.”

Nico hooks his elbow in yours and nudges you gently. “Wanna do a lap?”

You smile and nod, and he starts to pull you around on the ice. The dogs follow happily, having found their footing. Across the ice, some of the kids point at them excitedly. You think back to the dog park, so long ago, now, and the lady and her dog Bessie. If she’d never gotten angry with you, would you and Nico have ever spoken? Or would you have just stared at each other from across the park forever? You’re not sure you want to know. You’re just happy it ended up the way it did.

“I love you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

He blushes and grins, dimple popping up on his face. “I love you too, schatz.”

He kisses you on the lips, then, a quick peck that still somehow makes your heart skip a beat. At your feet, Moose whines, and Bernie follows suit. You and Nico sigh.

“And we love you two, too,” you say, shaking your head at the dogs.

“So needy,” Nico says.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you tease, elbowing him.

He grins impossibly wider. You feel warm enough to melt the ice beneath your feet. He tends to have that affect on you, and you don’t think it’ll ever grow old.

thanks for reading!!

[youraverageaemondsimp]

“My darling.” // CelticSlave!Aemond Targaryen x VestalVirgin!Reader

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

MDNI.

block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to avoid seeing dark content from me.

Summary: Fetching water a little later than usual shouldn't really affect much of your life right? You're wrong, and you wouldn't find out until you found a celtic slave in a bad condition named Aemond.

WARNINGS: extreme noncon to dubcon, unprotected p in v sex, blood kink, degradation, breeding kink, violence, blood, murder, slight angst, stockholm syndrome(?), reader basically falls in love with Aemond even though he nonconned her, manipulation. not exactly historically accurate, this is just fiction so do not take it heart, hoping it isn't offensive, + not proofread // requested by @slytherincursebreaker !!

WC: 3.5k

You were an illegitimate daughter of a politician in your country, taken away from your mother to keep the scandal underground, you never had an easy life and your father only did the bare minimum, and to say your step mother and half siblings did not like you at all, they saw you as a pest more than anything, when the pontifex maximus was choosing vestal virgins to serve the goddess vesta, he had eyes for your family, specifically your sister but she did not want to go, and so they sent you instead, seizing the opportunity to get rid of you.

It did not mean you were fully free from their clutches however, as you grew in the monastery you were always slightly discriminated against but the other 5 priestess, having heard the rumours about your bastardised birth. But you still managed to get by, you remember how earlier this morning your half sister came to visit you, telling you that she is to be married soon, she came to rub it in your face because you were sworn to celibacy, and you could not engage in activities like such. She even bought her suitor along, who you swore looked at you with such lust, and you felt very creeped out.

This is why you deliberately didn't go and fetch water from the spring earlier today, he often came to visit the temple and watched you perform your duties to the goddess vesta.

Choosing to fetch water at such a late time shouldn't have any repercussions right? I mean, you did not do it earlier because you had a reason not to, not wanting to entertain the eyes of your half sister's suitor, so you're doing it now.

Wrong.

You didn't realise the threat back then, when you found Aemond being beaten up by a bunch of other men, kindness was something that came to you naturally, seeing him in such a state made your heart wrench, you shooed off the other men, reprimanding them for their behaviour and used your status as a vestal virgin to scare them off before looking down at the man who was covered in mud, and seemed to bleeding.

He had silver blonde hair, with only one eye as the other socket seemed empty, you wondered what had happened to him.

“Are you alright?” you ask and you he groans, turning over unto his back, you should leave, you shouldn't help him, but here you are picking him up, leaning his body weight against you and bringing him through one of the secret tunnels in underneath the infrastructure of the building, it was connected directly to another country, was made to use it in order to escape from war or to invade other lands, none of the common folk knew about this, and the people who knew didn't come here often either, as there was no such need for it anymore.

You sit him down in one of the 'rooms' which is just a big spacious squared tunnel, he plops down unto the ground weak and tired, breathing heavily, you quickly went back outside and fetched the water you forgot about and gave some of it for him to drink, you watched as he whimpered, swallowing in pain before he finally looked at you.

“T-thank you.” his voice was so weak, he was barely able to get any words out.

You gave him a gentle smile, and you realised that it was probably late, you had many questions for him but you kept it to yourself for now because you didn't want to bother him anymore, so left back to the temple where you resided.

“Why are you up so late?” you heard the head vestal ask, raising an eyebrow as she took in your appearance, mud covering your prestigious clothing, “I went to fetch the water head priestess, but I fell down on the way back.” you lie looking down, hoping she believes it, and to your surprise, she does believe it, she tells you to go to your quarters after putting the water down, so you do just that.

You visit the badly hurt person from yesterday once again, you knew you were not supposed to have any type of contact with a man, to remain pure as they will taint you, but you really could care less when its about helping others, you found him lying on the ground, likely sleeping, but your footsteps woke him up and he looked at you curiously, you gave him a small smile before giving him the bread you managed to sneak out without anyone noticing, along with water, you gave it to them and sat down, he reluctantly ate it before drinking the water. “Why are you doing this?” he asked you and you shrugged, “Is it so wrong to help a fellow human out?” you question back and he goes quiet, “You i never really got your name, or how you ended up in that situation.” you tilt your head as you watch him purse his lips.

“I am a celtic sex slave.”

You froze, he was a slave.

“My mistress threw me out, and I ended up on the streets without any shelter, and those men just wanted someone to mess with.” he sighs, swallowing the bread. You felt pity for him.

“Till you found me of course, I am extremely indebted to you my lady.” he says and you shake your head no, “I’m no lady, I am a vestal virgin that title is not of my belonging.” You said, and he tilted his head, not understanding what you had meant, he nodded but then his eyes widened “This is such an honour to be in the presence of such a being, sorry you must see me in this state, and… You had to touch me as well.” he apologises and you look down, you shake your head and tell him that it's okay and you did not mind.

You and Aemond had grown closer, he would tell you about his life before he became a sex slave, how he was treated, how you felt extremely bad, how your people treated the Celtics. And so you shared your problems in return as well, he provided you comfort which you lacked all of your life, for the first time you felt wanted, and you could not ignore the feeling that was starting to bloom inside you.

But you pushed it down, you are a celibate, you should not be feeling such things.

Aemond had taken a liking to you, you had a pretty soul as well as a pretty face, the way you looked in your white clothing, and whenever you would fix your scarf over the head afraid that your hair or skin would show made him more curious to see what is underneath the thick robes of clothing even more. He knows damn well that he isn't the first man to ever lust for a vestal virgin, there were many depraved others.

After Aemond recovered, you had showed him around the tunnels and dungeons, various routes that if something happens he can use them to escape, and you also showed the route which led to his country, and he noted it, telling you that he can use this to go back to his own people again and you gave him a small smile.

Though the thought of him leaving makes your heart wrench.

“Aemond, I have to go and attend to my duties now, I will meet you later okay?” you say quickly before leaving.

Though the later never came.

“She was caught sneaking around with a slave apparently, she kept him hidden, surely she committed adultery as well.” you heard the voice of the chief priestess tell the priest.

“That is utmost dishonourable, as a vestal virgin you are sworn to celibacy, how can you do this?!” He yells at you and you flinch, tears streaming down your face.

“I promise! I promise on the flame of vesta that nothing happened between us! I was just helping him out.” you plead on your knees.

“How can I believe you? That you are not ruined? You were helping a sex slave out? you want me to believe that?” he questions and you shake your head.

“Order her death by live burial, she will be buried underground with no food or water.” he commands, tone final.

You watched as one of the virgins who snitched on you, she smiled cruelly and your face turned into a scowl. She was the one who wasn't a virgin, yet you kept her secret knowing what would happen if others found out, but the moment she discovered something about you? She had gone straight to the chief priestess and told her, even fed her lies.

“No! No! Please listen to me! Nothing happened between us! You can check for my virginity if you want! Please.” you cried, at the priest and he simply dismissed you.

You were grabbed by his guards and were being led to your doom, dragged out of the temple forcefully and then the trial was processing when you heard a commotion, accompanied by panicked screams.

“There has been a rebellion! The celtics have rebelled against us!” You hear someone yell, and everyone panics, the guards that were holding you quickly let go before rushing off to fight, you run after them and go to the temple as well, eyes widening in horror as you saw the blood and how few of priestesses were being violated brutally by the rebels, their clothes were being torn by the celtic soldiers and you were spotted by two men who came over to you, grabbing you by your hands and shoving you onto the ground.

“This one's pretty, let me have her cunt first.” you screamed at them to let go and they fought against them, kicking one of them in the shins cause the man to stumble and fall, “This bitch–”

“Stop.”

They both immediately froze up and turned around, and you froze as well, recognizing the voice. “This one is mine, unless you want your heads fucking cut off, fuck off.” he spits harshly at them, and they bow their head before scurrying off and you furrow your eyebrows, Aemond looks at you with a smirk, the empty eye socket from before now held a blue sapphire in its place snuggly.

“This would not have been possible without you, I shall spare you for this.” he begins, pulling you up on your legs by the hair.

“W-why are you doing this?!” you asked in fear and Aemond shrugged before explaining, “For the benefit of my people of course, you Romans have treated us as nothing but barbarians, however I do not blame you for that, you are a kind soul.”

“I threw my life away for this, let myself get touched by filthy hands for this moment, and finally, it was all worth it in the end.” he chuckles cruelly, and you scrunch your face in a scowl, “The emperor—” you begun but you are quickly cut off by him yanking your hair and making you face where a body was laying, head detached from the body, he tuts, “This one?” he pulls out a head and shoves it right up into your face and you push it away, screaming, he lets gos of the head and it falls to the ground rolling away.

“He was nothing but a coward, running off in the secret tunnels, letting his people die, unworthy of ruling over the people, so instead, I became the new emperor.” he clarifies.

“If you are going to kill me, just do it already.” you spit, and he looks surprised at this.

“Doll, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it long ago, besides I said that I would already spare you, since you were a kind soul, and once again, without you, I would not be here.” he smiles cruelly and you feel your stomach twist.

His grip on your hair leaves before it's attached to your forearm, hand gripping the skin cruelly as he drags you somewhere, and you noticed that it was the head priestess room, the nearest one in the temple. You quickly realised what he wanted to do, so you started struggling, annoyed by this, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, before carrying and entering the room inside, securing the curtain shut before he threw you on the bed.

You try to get up and run away but he pushes you on the bed, gets on top of you, and yanks your clothes away, tearing at your robes harshly, revealing your body to him, you quickly hide yourself but he pins your hands to your side and takes in your body, he groans at the sight of your chest heaving up and down, you wriggle underneath him, trying to kick him off but he captures your legs and pushes them apart before planting himself in between them.

“No! Please! No!” you cry out but he shuts you up with one of his hands, the other one quickly undoes his breeches, revealing his hard cock, he gives himself a few pumps and lines it up against your entrance. His tip prods at your entrance, he doesn't wait a second before shoving his cock inside of you, ripping your walls apart, making you scream in pain as you struggled beneath him, he watches as your blood leaks onto his cock, and his smiles at that before he looks at you, watching tears stream down your face as he takes what he wants, he immediately sets his pace at a brutal one, ramming his cock in and out of you.

Each movement was painful for you, your cries and screams muffled by his hand, your body jolting up the bed as he brutally thrusts inside, traumatising your walls, the free hand grips your breasts cruelly before he pinches your nipple harshly, causing you to arch your back, and whine loudly.

Using the least amount of strength you have you push him heavily off, and to your luck it works cause he is caught off guard making him fall next to you, and before you could get up and run, he grabs your waist and pushes you back onto the bed again, getting on top of you and choking your neck with both his hands.

“I was going to spare you, but it seems you do not want that, take it or fucking die.” he spits on your face and you wince, crying out once again as he enters inside you.

Your body betrays you, you know it when it suddenly starts to feel good, his tip hitting a certain spot inside of you, and soon you're moaning as well, unable to process this foreign sensation. “Yeah, that's more like it, my brave girl.” he coos and bends down to kiss your neck and you whimper when he bites down at your sensitive area.

You grab onto his shoulders for support, and he hums in satisfaction, one of his hands travel down to your clit before rubbing fast circles it, and you felt your stomach tighten at that, before something snapped and you were moaning extremely loudly, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure hit you like a huge wave.

You cried out his name, and he hushed you and continued to thrust inside of you, grunting, you felt his thrusts become more sloppy before he halted, pushing himself into you as far as he could go, and moaned as his seed spurted out of him, he slowly rode it out, painting more of your walls white.

“I want to see you pregnant.” his hand rests on the lower part of your abdomen, as he caresses it gently with his thumb, before pulling out and leaning down to pepper kisses on the area, as if a kiss will ensure your pregnancy.

His hands fondle with your boobs, thumbs flicking the nipples as he massages the flesh, “they will be filled with milk..” he says in a daze.

You saw him getting hard again and your eyes widened, before you could get up on your elbows, he pushed you down once again again, holding your legs apart and pushing them up, making the knees bend, touching your chest.

He lines his cock before shoving it brutally inside again, he trapped you in a mating press while he thrusted above, your walls drummed with pain at the overstimulation, you were whimpering.

“Fucking it take it you slut, look at how your expression matches that of a whore.” he degrades you, hips snapping at each words, you felt a sting in your heart at his mean behavior.

“This is what you were made for, to be a fucking whore that men can use, not a vestal virgin, having this much of a perfect cunt and wasting it is unbelievable.” he groans and you feel tears start to fall down at his insults.

He pulled back and groaned at the sight of how there was still blood covered on his cock, your blood which coated him so perfectly, and he felt him nearing his edge, his hand gripped your cheeks before forcing your mouth open and then he spit into it, “Swallow, you whore.” he commands and you obey scared.

“Fuck, you're my whore aren't you? my pretty little whore who will let me fuck my children into.” he moans. “I can't wait to make you mine, my empress who will rule along with me, give me children, my darling- oh fuck—”

You felt the familiar feeling of heat arise in your stomach again, as he hits the same spot again and again, and soon enough, you're once again reaching your peak, arching your back at the intensity, he then finishes inside of you again.

That night was a nightmare, he took you multiple times, he made you take him in your mouth, and he did the same, lapping at your cunt for hours on end as he relished in your taste.

You remember passing out, unable to take anymore as exhaustion weighed upon you.

You woke up groaning, you slept like a baby, that's until you moved a little bit and your body aches like hell itself, and you get up, stretching to relieve the pain, you looked over to your side and spotted Aemond fast asleep, completely bare and then you remembered the events of the night prior.

You saw the sheets which were now covered in your blood, your virgin blood, and you were pure no more. You felt doom settle in your core but you felt relieved in a weird sense of way.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside, you gathered whatever was left of your robes before covering yourself with it, hiding your intimate parts and exiting the room.

You gasped as the scent of blood hit your nostrils, and almost threw up, but then what caught your eye made you surprised, you noticed how the head priestess, and all the people who have wronged you in the middle, tied up as the guards lazily kept them in check.

When they spotted you, they screamed insults at you and you winced, anger coursing through your veins at such an intense rate.

“My empress, look at them, look at the people who wronged you.” you heard Aemond whisper in your ear from behind you, and you got startled, you turned to look at him and you watched as he was almost naked except the sheets which were loosely held together by him on his lower body, hiding his intimate part, the same sheets which were covered in your blood.

“Look at them, see how they are still blaming you? What do you want to do huh? Does it not make you mad?” he asks and you turn your attention back to them again, it frankly does make you mad. “I would never treat you like that, I love you. My queen.”

“What do you want, my little empress?” he asks and you make up your mind.

You collect the water in a small dish and Aemond watches you in confusion, but then you make your way towards the flame of vesta, and pour water over it, putting it out and the head priestess' eyes widen in horror.

“Kill them all.” your voice was more clear than ever.

“Spare the head priestess, and that one, for they shall be buried alive.” you say coldly before you walk back to Aemond, who welcomes you in his arms.

“You heard your queen, do as she commands.” he orders his men before he escorts you away from the scene and into the room once again.

He pushes you on the bed and crawls atop of you, “I wasn't joking when I said I want you pregnant, doll.” he coos and you gulp.

“Impregnate me, my king, I want to carry your heirs.”

And that was enough to make Aemond go insane, before he took you once again.

And soon, you fell pregnant.

Giving birth to a girl, who Aemond adored.

Life seemed to be well and perfect.

Maybe you don't really regret this at all.

———

GENERAL TAGLIST ;

@watercolorskyy @cl-0-vr @chompchompluke @namelesslosers @snowystark @spookyaemond @sweethoneyblossom1 @this-isnt-madness @persephonerinyes @eltherevir @sidni3003 @aleidag1rly @cryingforlife @fan-goddess @hannaeditzs @grungegrrrl @thekinslayersswordhand @aemondsbabygirl

Bold is who I cannot tag, DM to be removed!

[lacollectionneuse1967]

remembering you - part 2

Theseus Scamander x Reader

summary: the truth of your and theseus's shared past comes to light at a very public venue.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: romance.

warnings: brief but GRAPHIC descriptions of gore (war flashback).

part one / part two

“I don’t think I’ve ever done anything that wasn’t expected of me.” The curse of the good son. The thought comes to Theseus unbidden. 

Even joining the magical resistance at the beginning of the war felt like some preordained line of reasoning that he only had to follow.

He’d vowed to his parents that he’d always do what’s right for his community. He’d been asked to help, so he did. In all realms of life, he tried to be helpful and do what was asked of him.

He didn’t have to think about it. 

But then: You.

Y/N swept into his life and spun his head around, turned his whole belief system upside down. He can only think of one other girl who struck him so profoundly, reached inside his chest and tugged him back into his body and the present moment, but that was years ago, and their encounter had been so brief… 

The principles by which Theseus lived his life were simple ones.

Restraint. Generosity. Order.

All dashed to pieces with the touch of your lips. When you'd asked him to kiss you his only thought had been "Mercy." He’d started undressing you by instinct. He’d taken you on his desk, it seems more like an unwieldy fantasy than a memory. 

He’s at home now. Dumbstruck at his kitchen table, glass of whiskey untouched.

He has the strangest desire to call his brother.

Newt, of all people! But he was probably galavanting around the world looking for Wrackspurts or trying to teach a Doxy to play fetch. They hadn’t spoken in so long, and Theseus had been negligent when it came to showing interest in his brother’s work besides that. He couldn't call on him now.

Theseus just needs someone to tell him what to do. 

He doesn’t know what happened in his office. He just wanted to put his hands on you and then, once he did, he started burning up inside and couldn’t stop. 

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N….

Your name was like a drumbeat driving him to insanity. A trance-inducing chant. 

“What’s become of me?” he thinks, helplessly, head in his hands. “I’ve gone mad.” 

He was supposed to marry well, unfussily and unremarkably. Find a respectable woman from a good wizarding family after building up his reputation as an Auror. He’d never touched a woman the way he'd touched you, so brazenly, so honestly, so entirely overcome with desire.

He’d never thought much of love. 

Even before today, he’d been distracted at work. Powerless, really. Writing to you occupied his every thought. Even when you took a little longer to respond, what he felt wasn’t impatience but agony. He hung onto your every word. His default daydream had become storming down to the Department of Magical Games and Sports and standing before you, making you see him, he loved you and he wanted you to deal with it too.

“Tomorrow,” he thinks and it eases some of the tension. He blows out the candle floating above his kitchen table and gives up on the whiskey, snatching the glass and pouring it down the drain.

Tomorrow he’s decided to tell you that he needs you, that he loves you, although he’s not sure what it means yet. Maybe that will help him clear his head, silence that roaring need. Confessing to you will be like letting blood. 

Yesterday your beauty had taken him by surprise, discomposed him, yes. But he reminds himself that he knows you. From your letters. 

He loved you then too.

And, aside from his feelings, he doubts there are any real secrets now between you.

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

You want to ask Theseus if he dreams about the war too.

You wonder how many people in Britain return there, to that same reeking, muddied place lit-up with gunfire, in their dreams every night. You wonder if you could meet him there.

But no, Theseus wasn't in the trenches. He wouldn't know about how the mud is different there. Evil. Cursed. You'd long given up on trying to describe it to your sister, make her understand.

No wizards, not even those a part of the underground resistance, were in the trenches.

Your powers were wasted down there, how silly and indulgent magic seemed with people dying everywhere, dying badly, with less dignity and honor than stray dogs.

You remember trying to use magic wherever you could anyways. You remember your hands and your medical knowledge being, shockingly, more useful. When a man's limbs are shattered in opposite directions, when a man's face has been shot off, when a man is bleeding out, when a man....

You remember that first night, after Theseus and your family had left you, the numb-shock of seeing a man's brains for the first time. The sensation that came over you was less startling and more like paralysis or ice water. They were grey and had splattered onto your face and the ground before you. The men shoved his body over the top of the trench, throwing him at you to save him, not realizing he had a hole in his head. You stared at the soft, grey chunks on the floor and your mind unfeelingly conjured up images from the kitchen: chicken hearts, boiled ground meats, uncooked egg whites. It was so random you'd almost laughed.

War made the grotesque banal.

And all for what? That pointless tract of wasteland. Bodies at various states of decay, laid out like a rotting carpet.

You wonder what Theseus did to get called a war hero, you didn't think there were any heroes in the Great War. To you it was a tragedy of gross political malpractice.

They made a grave of your home in France. You couldn't have returned there, not ever.

You only ever went back there in dreams, where you couldn't seem to remember that the war was over.

It made you feel guilty in a distant, half-realized way, how you never wanted to talk about it or think about it in your waking life. When your siblings wrote down your name in a tribute to the combat nurses at last year's Armistice Day, you'd been blind with rage. Inconsolable with a nameless, blooming betrayal. "Nameless" because you couldn't say what they had betrayed.

Which is why this year's Armistice Day, today, you'd resolved to avoid all grief celebrations and talk of glory and war and to think only of the future. Of happy things. Of Theseus.

Theseus.

Yesterday you'd slept with him.

You'd actually taken him into your arms and body and then just let him take and take and take. You'd only asked for a kiss, but you'd found yourself unable to say anything but yes and please to him.

This fact made you blush the whole way home. Made you unfold his "goodnight" message from days before and read it again and again just to see the ink of his writing on paper, just to prove that what existed between the two of you was real.

At work yesterday he'd kept writing to you, just like he promised. Afterward, at the end of the day, he came to your desk and walked you to the Atrium, kept his hands in his pockets and looked at you fondly when you spoke, with an attention like sweetness. He was a gentleman--what happened in his office aside--indisputably so. You'd felt good and safe by his side. Like you belonged there.

Until you got home.

It was your mistake to open up to your sister. It didn't help that she kept saying that she couldn't believe you, that she'd kill him, that "it's all so unromantic."

You spared her the details, but you wanted to just blurt out and admit that it was the both of you begging for the other at intervals.

He'd gotten down on his knees, for crying out loud! He didn't coerce you into anything. All he coerced were inappropriate noises from your mouth, but, no, you couldn't tell your sister that...

Your argument continues in the morning, picks up where it left off right after breakfast.

"I just feel like you gave up more than you bargained for, Y/N. Because you like him so much you're more at risk of-"

"I didn't 'give up' anything! God, I can't believe you."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No, it's fine, really!" You're grabbing your keys and shoving them into your purse with force, pointedly not fine. "For the record, he was the one who said he liked me. And I was the one who asked him to kiss me, again! I'm not a child. The only thing I'm at risk of is finally getting what I want."

Your sister cries easily, famously. You can see it mounting now in the tremble of her lip. It almost topples over into a sob when she whines, "I love you Y/N! I don't want you to get hurt."

"He likes me! He's my friend. We've been talking for weeks."

"What if he..." your sister hesitates and for some reason it humiliates you, her censoring herself for the sake of your feelings.

Your shoulders go rigid.

"What?" you snap. "What if he what?"

She shakes her head but when you don't relent she speaks grudgingly.

"What if he does this a lot? Casual sex. Spontaneously sleeping with women. Maybe even coworkers. I just want to be sure you're on the same page, Y/N. He means so much to you, I know that, and he always has. But he doesn't even remember you...."

Sick. You feel a swaying illness in your chest and gut. For a moment you taste bile.

Her words hurt so bad that you don't even feel pain, the fight in you just dies instantaneously.

He doesn't even remember you...

"Okay," you say, staring blankly at her. "Okay..."

"Y/N-" your sister stands from her chair suddenly, but you jerk away from her.

"It's fine. Theseus can do what he pleases. Thank you for your concern, but I don't want to talk about it anymore."

You leave for work.

------

The chaos at the Ministry mirrors the chaos in your head, which isn't any real consolation.

Whizzing baubles and streaming banners are still being put up in the Atrium, the center of which lies a hulking, rectangular platform, scattered hauntingly with red poppies. It sort of reminds you of gallows, though you doubt anyone else would appreciate the humor in your observation.

The Ministry always did some sort of luncheon or memorial for Armistice Day.

Speeches, honors, sometimes a little parade, sometimes, conversely, observing four minutes of silence. The thought of being asked to go on stage horrified you more than the Western Front had.

As you walk to your desk, you think about Theseus again. You think about the war. Both inevitable, given the circumstances.

You think about the service he rendered your father and your siblings that night. You think about the chivalry he demonstrated in letting you hold onto your girlhood for a bit longer, his hand framing your face as he left it untouched and denied you a kiss.

You think about him letting you stay for the Battle of Verdun, and how it never made sense to you and it still doesn't now...

You have to know.

"I'll tell him," you think. "I'll tell him today."

------

There's a memo waiting for you at your desk. It makes your heart patter in gross relief.

"He likes me. He likes me," you remind yourself.

Your sister's words this morning must've really gotten to you.

"Urgent matter for the Interdepartmental Liaison of the Department of Mysteries!!!"

You roll your eyes. You're smiling stupidly at the paper as you write your response.

"Theseus, you can't keep writing 'URGENT' at the beginning of all of your memos. It's cryptic and dishonest and it loses its intended effect."

"Okay, fine. I was just going to ask if it would be terribly uncouth if I asked you to meet me in my office before the memorial so I could kiss you a bit?"

The thought of him putting his hands on you affects you more than you'd ever admit. You look around the office, blushing, as if anyone could read the paper from so far away. This man was driving you insane.

"Well, that's one way to honor the troops. You are a veteran so I suppose there's no turning you down."

You want to see him, you do. But you have a mission today from your Department. It couldn't wait and he couldn't know.

You're hoping to use the Armistice Day events to talk to Mr. Bragg, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, or maybe sneak into his office. Too much time has elapsed already, you need to find out whether or not he is really betraying the Ministry for Grindelwald.

Theseus's reply is surprisingly earnest.

"Huh, I always thought today was more about honoring the fallen than honoring the veterans."

"True. Maybe no kissing until it's over?"

"Deal. I'll see if I can write you into my schedule."

"Not funny."

"If you want to see me so bad you could always commit a crime and I'll come arrest you?"

"Hey, you're the one who asked to see me!! And threatening me with a good time is beneath you."

You see a lone blot of ink fade-in from where his quill is pressed down onto the paper on his end. He's trying to decide what to write.

When the words come at last they are so simple and candid and enticing. Theseus has never been afraid of honesty or affection.

"I like you so much."

You laugh aloud. If he was here you'd kiss him breathless.

"Yes, you said that already."

"Forget the kiss, I'd kill even to hear your laugh in person. To see your face."

"I like you so much too."

-----

You're the last person from your level to make your way down to the Atrium for the Armistice ceremony. The noise from below sounds more like a motorcade than a memorial. Honking trumpets, trilling drumroll, applause. Funnily enough, you think your coworker Ana is the one speaking now, snatched the microphone from the Minister of Magic himself.

In fact, by the looks of it, you might've missed some of the ceremony already.

The Atrium is packed with people. Ministry workers brought their spouses, some their entire families. Well-dressed witches and wizards not affiliated with the Ministry have also come in droves.

You scoot along the edge of the room, moving sideways towards the stage, craning your neck to find Mr. Bragg.

The periodic sound of applause crashes down like heavy rainfall, the way it drowns everything out. It's a bit stuffy from all the body heat, and your clothes cling to your body uncomfortably.

As you approach the stage, you stop pushing forward and look up in shock to see Theseus's face. He doesn't see you, and you're glad for the chance to just look at him outright. God knows you could look at him forever.

He's waltzing down the steps of the platform smiling broadly. His gait is relaxed, he's comfortable in his skin despite the attention of being on stage, which is something you envy. There's a ribbon on his lapel and a red flower stuck in his suit pocket, a few men and women are trailing behind him.

They must have just honored the wizards who fought.

Next would presumably be some ceremony for the Ministry workers to honor their dead. Last year they'd done a magical memorial with floating lanterns. This year you'd been told it would involve stones, or maybe it was flowers? You didn't want to stick around.

It was painful enough carrying your losses inside of you, seeing loss and grief paraded and exploded all around you didn't feel therapeutic or healing for you the way it seemed to feel for the rest of the nation.

"Y/N!"

You turn without grace, neck jerking painfully. The sight of Mr. Bragg's face startles you, makes you feel found out. It's difficult for you to rein in your surprise. You have to shout over the sound of Ana talking onstage.

"M-Mr. Bragg!"

The older man smiles. He's with his department friends and his cheeks are rosy. Drunk, maybe. They're holding the flask between them like schoolboys, drawing more attention to it really.

It seems disrespectful to you. Most Ministry workers waited until after the memorial ceremony to start celebrating the end of the war and drinking to "peace."

But Mr. Bragg and his colleagues look positively jubilant.

"My girl! I was just telling these gentlemen how we have a real Unspeakable in our midsts now! Tell them how good the Department of Magical Games and Sports has been treating you, why don't you? Better than the Department of Mysteries, eh?"

The men he's with laugh and jostle him, they're about to turn back to the stage.

You're still reeling, sputtering from surprise, but you have to spit it out now, take your chance.

"Mr. Bragg! Wait!"

His colleagues' eyes go wide in delight, one of them looks as if he's about to bark an inappropriate comment. Mr. Bragg looks taken aback at your newfound attention.

It was nearly 1930 and some of the men in the Ministry still had such backward ideas about women, even coworkers, it took everything in you not to roll your eyes.

"Yes, darling?" Mr. Bragg's answering smile is eager and smug. Self-satisfied.

Gag.

"Um, I was hoping to talk to you in your office after the ceremony? About my position as liaison." He looks suddenly bored, turned off, so you give him your most flattering smile and add, coyly, "Alone. If you're not too busy, that is?"

That seems to gratify him. He adjusts his jacket impressively in front of his colleagues. One of them wriggles his brow indiscreetly and nudges him.

"Of course, Miss Y/L/N! It's about time you and I had a good talk, one on one."

Again, gag.

You smile, and it's a strain to, before bowing your head in thanks and moving on.

Well, at least that was settled. You could drill him with questions after the ceremony and, during the ceremony, you could poke around in his office for evidence of betrayal. It was perfect.

Too perfect.

It was your mistake for lingering near the stage. For coming at all, really.

It sends a jolt of liquid panic down your spine when you hear your name, magically amplified for the whole crowd to hear. It booms throughout the entire Atrium. It's bizarre to the point of feeling dreamlike.

"Oh, and is that Y/N? Miss Y/L/N! Please join us on stage! Everyone, how can we forget to honor our wartime nurses?"

This isn't real. If the crowd hadn't parted to stare at you after all of Ana's pointing, you would've continued walking away.

A man jumps off-stage to escort you to the staircase.

You're past the point of being able to speak or object.

Once onstage you stare out at the crowd unseeingly. The tops of so many heads. You'd rather be at the summit of some great height, looking out at some cloudscape. Your fear of heights seemed healthy, whereas your stage fright was a simultaneously useless and formidable thing.

You regret befriending Ana. You regret telling her about the war, telling her anything about yourself at all.

You are sweating.

And, impossibly, Ana is still talking.

"-and at only sixteen years old! As a volunteer wartime nurse, Y/N Y/L/N stayed for the entire ten months of brutal fighting at the Battle of Verdun in Northern France. 300,000 dead and 400,000 wounded. She saved countless lives, muggle and wizardkind alike, indiscriminately. These combat nurses were the foundation of-"

Her last commendation draws some uncomfortable shifting and impressed gasps from the crowd. It's a mixed reaction, as views of blood purity were equally mixed.

Ana, in an asinine but expected turn of events, is still talking.

But you're no longer listening. You can't.

There are so many people in the crowd, but your gaze locks on Theseus almost immediately. You see his expression change in realization, his eyes widen and his jaw flexes, almost undetectably.

When he tears his gaze from Ana to you, you turn away.

He knows. Even if he doesn't remember, he knows.

You only know Ana's finished talking because of the crashing noise of applause, like the shore breaking on a cliffside. Your ears burn. You keep your head low as you exit the stage.

This isn't how you wanted it to happen.

You're torn between wanting to explain yourself and wanting to escape. Heart hammering, cutting through the crowd, you choose the latter.

You make for a secluded alcove of the Atrium, far from the crowd at its center, and sit on a marble bench.

You never lied to Theseus. If anything he was the one who lied. He said he'd remember you. He'd promised.

"It's okay," you repeatedly run your hands over the material of your skirt, over your thighs. It's meant to be reassuring, grounding. You don't feel like it's working. "It's okay, Y/N."

You'd like to say it was the stage fright at work, but no. It was the way he looked at you that was so upsetting. He looked at you like the earth was shattering.

"Y/N!"

Your head lurches upwards from where it's bent over.

It's shocking to you, the sight of him. As shocking as it was to see him in his soldier's uniform, standing in your doorframe on that night all those years ago.

"Y/N," Theseus walks over with heavy footsteps. He looks winded and undone, like he'd run to find you. His voice is weak. "It's.... How can it be you?"

There's a desolate longing to your returning stare. Your chest hurts. You're shaking your head, trying to dispel some of that tightness in your heart.

"You said you didn't need a name to remember me...."

"Did you remember me?"

"Of course," you're speaking so fiercely, he doesn't deserve it but you can't help it. "Right away."

Why is it more embarrassing to be the one who remembers? It's even more embarrassing than being forgotten.

"That's why I stopped writing to you that day," you add pathetically. "After I saw your face at the Ministry, I'd put the pieces together. All it took was once glance."

Theseus sits down beside you on the bench, still looking adrift. At a loss of what to do with this information.

"You must be disappointed," he says at last. "And you must think me a fool."

"Well... I don't think you're a fool," you hope that doesn't reveal your disappointment, but his pained wince suggests the opposite.

"I should have known," he says with newfound vigor. "You really haven't changed, have you? Even after your coming-of-age, you're still as stubborn as ever."

That makes you laugh, dreary as the sound is.

"I didn't come of age I just sort of... came through."

He laughs at that. "You know, I've seen far more of your siblings."

"Really?"

"They didn't tell you?"

"No, not really..." None of you liked to talk about your father's death or the period surrounding it. Too painful.

"Well, I spent a good week with them. With your father too, obviously. I had to make sure he was receiving proper care."

"Did you speak to them?"

"Your sister didn't understand much of what I was saying, the same for your father. But I spoke with your brother often, his English wasn't half bad."

You groan. "What did you talk about?"

Theseus seems pleased. Eager to demonstrate to you how much he remembers.

"Of course I asked him if you really were a combat nurse, had to make sure I didn't just send a teenager to her death," Theseus explains. "So he told me about the first time you came to help out in the trenches. Some story about the men catcalling you, telling you ways to make yourself prettier, and you shouting 'It's not my job to be beautiful!' at them and tightening the tourniquet of the man you were working on. Your brother told me he yelped so loud that none of the other men dared to bother you again."

You laugh breathlessly. It's so strange to hear the memory come out of Theseus's mouth. Everything about this feels impossible. Ridiculous.

"Did my brother share any other anecdotes about me?" You turn to Theseus with a wry look on your face.

This is oddly pleasant. Doesn't feel so awful anymore, unearthing the past together.

"I wish," Theseus's smile is toothy and endearing. Sly look in his eyes. "Naturally I asked almost exclusively about you. When he talked about you he called you by some pet name? I tried to use it to find you after the war before I realized it was only a nickname."

That makes your heart stir.

It was stupid. Impossible.

An unhappy coincidence. Those were all that seemed to keep you apart.

Theseus had tried to find you.

But [your brother's name] was so young at the time, he'd only ever thought of you as [your nickname] and never "Y/N." It wasn't his fault.

"I was so curious about you," Theseus continues. "Although I was proud of myself for not kissing you... You were too young. And I was relieved it was me who left last and not one of the other poor sods who came along, who knows what they would've done if a girl like you asked for a kiss."

"I wouldn't have asked them!" you protest, and his smile as he shirks off your playful hit splits your heart, you love him so.

Theseus raises an eyebrow, still smiling. "No? I thought you just wanted your first kiss before the battle. Didn't matter from who."

You shake your head.

"No.... I didn't even think to want to be kissed until I saw you. And until I realized my life was going to change forever. I'm an opportunist, I guess..."

The last part is meant to be a joke but he's not reacting accordingly anymore, he's hanging onto your every word.

And he's definitely looking at you too seriously for you to admit that you found him severely attractive. And kind. Observant and receptive, like he saw through you. Mostly handsome.

"I just," you cringe at yourself. Cower away from his searching eye-contact.

"What?" he prods. His smile is teasing this time, like he's hoping to charm the truth out of you.

"I just wish..." you wince at the words as you say them. "That you would've remembered me. It sounds silly, but I used to think about that night a lot as a girl. I handed over my siblings and my father to you, and I would've given you my first kiss, and more than that maybe... I still don't understand why you let me stay and fight in Verdun. I suppose it makes me feel even more silly, knowing it didn't mean as much to you."

The more you speak the more you watch his expression dampen. Theseus purses his lips unhappily.

"I'm new at this, Y/N."

"New at what?" You don't know what he means.

"And I'm already messing it up, aren't I?"

"Theseus," you say. "I haven't any idea what you're talking about."

"I just," he dips his head back in frustration. "I have thought of you and that night, often. I just never imagined you as a grown woman, Y/N. During the war, you'd become something like a guardian angel in my mind. Forever sixteen. But when I met you two days ago, I knew..."

It's so difficult for him to find the words it seems. He keeps grimacing and shaking his head to himself.

"I knew when my body reacted that way to seeing you. Every part of me rejoiced when I saw you sitting at your desk. It wasn't like meeting you for the first time, it was uncanny. Like... immediate recognition. It felt like I was remembering you, Y/N."

You place a hand over his sympathetically. It's warm under yours. It still makes your head spin, touching him at all.

"You made such an impression on me, Y/N," he reassures.

"I was just a girl," you say, dismissively. "I was naive."

"You were courageous, more than me or any of my men. Braver than all the British Ministry. It shook me, meeting you. Reminded me why I decided to fight, I'd become so jaded."

You have nothing to say to that. He fills in the silence.

"So you didn't want to become a nurse after all then? After the war, I mean."

"I never wanted to be a nurse, I just..." Death all around you. You just wanted to stop feeling helpless. "I wanted to help."

"I never wanted to be a soldier," Theseus offers congenially. "I just wanted to do what's right. That night you reminded me why I was there in the first place. You reminded me to be brave. I was ashamed of how little I thought of the muggles. And there you were, going off on your own, risking your life for them. Before you, I just wanted to minimize losses. But you made me want to save people."

Your lip wavers. You're staring into his eyes, into that pure blue, that dark sea. It's entirely inappropriate, but you'd like very much to kiss him now. You won't ask this time. You'd like to press yourself against his suit, no words can articulate what you feel for him, but maybe you could show him.

But then he speaks again.

"Y/N," there's a guarded, defensive edge to his tone that makes you hesitant. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer this at all, but I have to ask. Was that your first kiss yesterday? In my office."

You can't help but bristle. You're embarrassed. The look on your face reveals everything, so there's no use in hiding it. Damn him.

"Yes," you admit, hotly. "Was it obvious or something?!"

He groans, looks pale. His reaction horrifies you further.

"I shouldn't have done that," he's saying, he looks like he's going to be sick. "Falling all over you like a dog---I should've made it gentle. Sweet. Demonstrated an iota of self-control-"

"It's fine," you raise a hand, made shy by his self-deprecation. "We didn't do anything wrong."

That does give him pause. Theseus stops mid-sentence, mouth hanging open. He has to recompose himself.

"You're right," he relents with a gentle shake of his head. "We didn't. I just mean... I would've made it good for you, Y/N."

"It was good," you insist. You're not sure if he's talking about kissing anymore.

"Let me try again, I'll get it right this time."

Your heart races.

You wonder when you'll get used to this, the knowledge that he wants to touch you, that he's going to give you what you want. Wonder when your body will stop reacting like a prey animal's every time you're near him, so strong is his effect on you. You want to run. No, you want to bare your neck, submit. Let love kill you.

Your sister's words from this morning are the only thing stopping you.

You have to close your eyelids before speaking.

"Theseus, do you...."

"Yes?" his smile is almost too dazzling for you to formulate a response.

"With other women... Do you do that sort of thing often? Not that it matters..."

For a stunned moment he doesn't react.

Then he is laughing at you. It startles you and hurts your feelings.

"Y/N, I don't--Oh, Y/N!" He hurriedly moves to reassure you when he notices the look on your face, reaching out and grabbing your arm. "Oh, no! I wasn't laughing at you, I swear."

"Theseus," you groan, hiding your face, humiliated.

"No, no," he says again, trying to gently pull your hands away so he can look you in the eyes. His hands are firm and persistent. He's still half-laughing as he speaks. "It's just that I've never done something like that before. Y/N, I don't know how to say it better, but I am dreadfully in love with you."

You look up sharply, instantaneously, to read his expression. It is serene and sincere.

No sign of a prank, no sign of a psychotic break.

Oh god. Your stomach plummets. He loves you.

He loves you.

"Theseus, I-"

"Y/N!"

Once again, Mr. Bragg has taken it upon himself to surprise you. You jerk away from Theseus on the bench.

Theseus closes his eyes and doesn't turn to greet him, his wrath is only barely veiled.

"Mr. Bragg!" You stand abruptly. "What-What are you..."

"The ceremony is over!" He seems annoyed that you don't remember, his pride bruised. "If I'm not mistaken you and I have a date in my office?"

Theseus makes a comically disgusted face, looking between you and Mr. Bragg in rude astonishment. If you weren't afraid of offending you might've been amused.

"He means an appointment, Theseus," you hiss in clarification. That seems to sedate Theseus if only slightly.

"And yes of course," you say to Mr. Bragg with a placating smile. "I'm all yours."

---

next part here

-----

author's note: part 3 (LAST PART) incoming! i had to break this part into two because it was getting too long :(

hope you enjoyed! more drama and smut in part 3

(spoiler: mr. bragg sucks + drunk!Reader and caring!Theseus)

[xxknockoutxx]

𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐏𝐈𝐌𝐌 𝟑

(𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝)

Dabi is a Sadist and masochist. I feel like he would have a thing for pain. Obviously inflicting pain because he's a villain that likes destruction all that shit. Buuuuut if you (his S/O) were with him alone oh my gosh it would be a different story some days he'll come a little angry from the league or if you guys live with the league he'll go to your room and bring you to his. He'll just go ape shit. Bruises, burns, marks, anything you can think of.

Deep down he does truly care about you but dabi hasn't found any healthy solutions to cope with his emotions due to the years of neglect and that he's an adult man he just assumes nobody gives a fuck about him. so that means most of the time you're the punching bag, only sexually though. He would never actively commit violence on you. He's just rough when he's angry. And when you guys finish he'll give you time for the both of you to chill out and then he'll visit you awkwardly with snacks and drinks and gives you the awkward: "M'Bad doll." Then you guys cuddle and he rubs your bruises gently and uses his warm hands to soothe your belly and whatever's under.

BUT ON SOME DAYS. He'll let you ride him and as you do he'll moan and tell you to slap him. Obviously being the sweet little S/O you are, you were concerned and didn't do it. But when he insisted you were like "Aight, Bet. Bop!" And right across his face was a slap.

"That was a bitch slap I know my baby can slap harder than that..."

To be honest that kinda freaked you the fuck out. Was this a test? Was he going to fold you in half and break you if you slapped him any harder? You didn't know but you were knocked out of your focus by his hips slamming into you.

"Hurry baby, slap me harder...."

You just thought of something that the asshole did and raised your eyebrow at his face it was almost.... Desperate? It didn't matter because you slapped him hard.

"Mmm~ again..."

"Don't have to tell me twice"

And you did it again and again and again. He was blissed out for some reason it didn't make any sense for someone with an ego like him to just be happy about being dragged through the mud. But it didn't stop at slaps he even liked when you choked him until a tear drop of blood came out his eyes. Or sometimes he'll let you pinch his nipples or... Wait till you hear this... He likes when you pull on his staples. It hurts like hell but it feels like heaven.

And after all of this when you guys already stopped fighting he seems more relaxed. Like it's almost therapeutic for him to just get hurt for a little bit. It concerns you but as long as you're the only one who gets to do it and he likes it. It's fine right?

(turned out way too long damn)😭

[yournightmary]

Streamer!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU, mentions of getting hurt

AN:: Another headcannons, who would’ve thought? Streamer!Ellie was literally the reason I started writing. Enjoy :)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who started streaming as a joke. Jesse was already a streamer and he constantly said she’d be good at it, so why not?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who at first had such a shitty setup. No webcam, mic barely working and her PC couldn’t handle minecraft with shaders.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who randomly went from 30 viewers average to almost 10k one day. Just blew up overnight.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets canceled at least once a week. She just says dumb shit without thinking and has to apologize after. and people are just fucking weird.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who lives off of snacks and won’t eat a proper meal if you don’t cook anything. She’s just always on that grind😎🔥

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who’s entire personality on camera is just a character. Screams and throws herself off of her chair on camera but goes non verbal every time she’s in private.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who mostly streams games, especially minecraft & fortnite. She might make an irl stream once in a blue moon, but don’t expect it to be good.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who loves her community and wants to talk to them more often but always ends up swearing and arguing with random people in chat.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets copyright strikes and warnings from twitch admins almost every stream. Most of the times she doesn’t even know what she did wrong.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who keeps your relationship a secret. She’s scared you’d get a ton of hate. (You would) ((Streamer fanbases are awful))

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who buys the most random things she can ‚for the lulz’. Whether it’s for her streaming room or bedsheets, she’s buying the weirdest option. (This made me think of her)



⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who is definitely a hey mamas girl.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who majorly fucked up and showed her personal instagram account (with your pictures) by accident. Her following went up by 10k almost instantly and she ended up deleting it:/

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who after that mistake took a hiatus for almost 3 weeks. I mean- logged out of every account she had and didn’t check any socials for that time.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who came back to streaming thinking she’d get all the hate in the world but people were just joking that ‚she’s too much of a loser to have a pretty girlfriend’.

they were also surprised she was lesbian. She never talked about her private life on stream, not even once.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ In my mind she’s the female version of 2019/2020 Quackity. Is he still relevant? idk

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who jokes about selling feet pics and bath water a little too often for your liking.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who once did a handstand for a 100 bucks. Ended up breaking her arm in two places and she couldn’t play games for almost two months.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets hurt on stream so often she got flagged for self harm. Apologized on twitter though:)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who definitely thinks loud=funny.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who finds out she’s in some kind of drama every single time she opens twitter. It’s always for something stupid too, like saying she’d win in a fight against some random streamer and their fanbase gets pissed.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who feels bad about having nice things so she just buys you a ton of gifts. Gotta spend that streamer money somehow🤑

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who showed you on stream once and the chat went crazy. People made edits of the 10 seconds you were on screen. Ellie watched all of them.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who streams cutting her hair every few months. She says ‚she’s cooking’ while chat drags her through mud.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who streams so much she started saying ‚chat’ in real life, even when she’s alone. Always gets embarrassed about it and apologizes.

Can you tell I was a dsmp kid during quarantine?

[one-flower-one-sword]

Hello I have a question everyone is going on about Hua Cheng hating Feng Xin despite being loyal to Xie Lian. What do you think of the reason Hua Cheng hatred towards Feng Xin?

Hey Anon! thank you for your question, I'll do my best to answer it :)

First of all, I think it's important to keep in mind that Hua Cheng has reasons to hate Feng Xin outside of his treatment of Xie Lian. Though out of the two, Mu Qing treated Hong Hong-er the worst - arguing that a visibly starved and abused child was lying about having no one caring for him and then later kicking him out of the army out of jealousy - Feng Xin really wasn't much better:

The young child shook his head, but Mu Qing said, “There must be. If he doesn't go back, his family will surely be worried sick looking for him.”

“No, no way! There's nobody!” that young child cried, sounding like he was afraid to be sent back, and he opened his arms reaching for Xie Lian. He was still covered with mud and blood, and Feng Xin couldn't stand it anymore.

“What're ya doin’, kid? Things were urgent earlier, so whatever, but shouldn't you know better by now? This is the crown prince. His Highness the Crown Prince. Do you understand?”

That young child's arms immediately shrank back, but he was still gazing at Xie Lian.

Vol 2, page 362

We see this treatment of Hua Cheng continue all the way to the reveal in Mount Tonglu's caves: because of what Hua Cheng is - a beggar child, a ghost king - he shouldn't be near Xie Lian - a crown prince, a god - and his adoration for Xie Lian and desire to be near him is openly treated by Feng Xin as inappropriate and disgusting, as something Xie Lian needs to be “protected” from at all cost - if Xie Lian wants to or not.

After walking for a while, Feng Xin spoke up. “No. I still don't think Your Highness should hold a strange child for everyone to see.”

“What's the problem?” Xie Lian asked.

“You're the crown prince!” Feng Xin exclaimed. While he spoke, he saw a worn-down handcart further up the alley and said, “Put the kid in the cart and pull it.”

Mu Qing immediately voiced, “Just so we're clear, I will not pull that thing up the mountain.”

”No one's asking you to,” Feng Xin said. He reached out and yanked the child from Xie Lian's arms, and the child started struggling again.

Vol 2, page 364

Because Xie Lian is nobility, in Feng Xin's eyes he shouldn't be seen carrying a child of the lowest class. Keep in mind that it was Xie Lian's own decision to carry Hong Hong-er himself and that the child had repeatedly made clear it didn't want to be carried by anyone else. But Feng Xin still takes Hong Hong-er away from Xie Lian, the only person that the child feels safe with and is being treated well by. Not to mention that he's yanking a child around that he knows has recently been brutally beaten, with no apparent care for its injuries.

Once Mei Nianqing divines Hong-er's fate, Feng Xin treats him like everyone else does except for Xie Lian - as if he's not a human being but some kind of dangerous monster that Xie Lian shouldn't even touch:

The Deputy State Preceptors blocked Hong Hong-er, and the State Preceptor backed away, yelling, “Make him leave the mountain, hurry! Don't touch him, I mean it! That fortune is too toxic; don't touch him!” The Deputy State Preceptors hurriedly moved aside, and Mu Qing and Feng Xin didn't know whether to act.

Seeing that everyone was avoiding him like he was poisonous vermin, the child was shaken and started thrashing even harder, biting and screaming with all his might. “I'm not! I'm not!! I'M NOT!!!”

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, encircling his small form. A voice came from above his head. “You're not. I know you're not. Don't cry, now. I know you're not.”

[...] A while later, the State Preceptor said, “I mean it. It's best if you let go.”

Feng Xin finally came to his senses and exclaimed, “Your Highness! Let go! Be careful of…”

Vol 2 page 380+ 382

So what we've established is that Feng Xin treated Hong Hong-er at best like a nuisance that Xie Lian shouldn't be seen caring for because of the class differences, and some kind of dangerous inhuman thing at worst. Now, since that was the way everyone but Xie Lian was treating him back then, I actually don't think it would stand out to Hua Cheng that much - but what would stand out to him was that Feng Xin, just like Mu Qing, repeatedly tried to separate him from Xie Lian, both through words and through actions, and that he went against Xie Lian's wishes in doing so.

Now we can tackle the other part of your question, Hua Cheng hating Feng Xin despite his being loyal to Xie Lian. And I think to answer it fully, we must first ask ourselves - was he loyal?

It's true that Feng Xin stayed with Xie Lian longer than Mu Qing did after the banishment, but his choices during that time tell their own story:

“Actually, it's… Your Highness, do you still have any money on you? Or something that can be pawned?”

Xie Lian was perplexed that he'd ask such a foolish question at a time like this. “Huh? Why do you ask?”

Feng Xin was sweating, but he replied boldly, “It's nothing… Just… If you happen to have some, can you… lend it to me?”

Xie Lian laughed bitterly. “Do you really think I have anything?”

Feng Xin sighed. “I didn't think so.”

After giving it some thought, Xie Lian asked, “Didn't I give you that golden belt?”

“That's not enough,” Feng Xin mumbled. “Far from it…”

Xie Lian was shocked. “Feng Xin? What exactly did you do? How could a golden belt not be enough to cover what you need? Did you beat someone up and need to pay them off? Tell me?”

Feng Xin came back to himself and quickly said, “Oh no! Don't take this to heart. I was only asking!”

Xie Lian pressed him over and over, but Feng Xin still swore everything was fine. Finally, Xie Lian said with worry, “Well, if there's anything, you must tell me. We can think of a solution together.”

“Don't worry about me,” Feng Xin said. “There's no way a solution will just fall from the sky. Your Highness, you just focus on solving your own problems.”

Vol 6, page 219

While superficially this might look like Feng Xin is trying not to burden Xie Lian with his problems, when we look at the actual context we realize that that's not why he is lying about what's going on. This is set during the time where they're barely managing to scrape enough food together not to starve, and are struggling to make enough money to buy medicine for Xie Lian's sick father. And Feng Xin knows this, knows that anything of value should go towards their continued survival - that's why he rejects Xie Lian's repeated offers of help and lies to him about there being no particular reason he's asking for money. Is that loyalty?

Soon after, he heard the Queen sigh. “If this keeps up, how will my son ever get better?”

Xie Lian could feel something amiss with those words, and Feng Xin replied in a quiet voice. “He's only like this because he's exhausted. Too much has happened lately. Will Your Majesties also keep a close eye on him? Please let me know as soon as possible if there's anything not right with His Highness, but don't tell him you did. Also avoid saying anything that might provoke him-”

Vol 6, page 220-221

Feng Xin told Xie Lian he believed him when he said that Bai WuXiang was back and was stalking him, but behind his back, it's a different story. Not only does he doubt Xie Lian’s grip on reality and his own mind, he urges Xie Lian's parents to also keep up the pretense and then report to Feng Xin behind Xie Lian's back. Is that loyalty?

And we need to keep in mind that this isn't a one time deal but a pattern of behavior that keeps repeating. Feng Xin keeps treating Xie Lian as too naive to be trusted to make his own choices, hence his trying to keep Xie Lian from caring for Hong Hong-er, trying to “manage” Xie Lian like an unruly child, and then all the way to conspiring with Mu Qing to kidnap Xie Lian away from Hua Cheng no matter what Xie Lian wants because they think they know better.

Xie Lian knelt by the stream and puked his guts out for over an hour, heaving until blood came up. After descending the mountain, he walked through the city for a long time, aimlessly wandering the main streets without a destination in mind. Suddenly, a hand gripped his shoulder and yanked him into an alley. Xie Lian looked around and saw an incoming fist before he even glimpsed the other's face.

“Where did you run off to for so long?!” Behind the fist was Feng Xin's furious expression, but by the time Xie Lian saw, he'd already been knocked to the ground by the punch. Feng Xin hadn't expected to knock him down so easily. Confused, he looked at his own fist, then at Xie Lian on the ground. Before he could think to help him up, Xie Lian had already crawled back up by himself.

Feng Xin's face changed, but in the end, his temper was still flaring. “You've got such an attitude! Dropping only a word before running away and disappearing for two months! Do you know how worried Their Majesties have been?!”

Vol 6, page 263

This is after Xie Lian ran away when he found out Feng Xin didn't believe him and was then lured to the abandoned temple by Bai WuXiang and severely tortured and violated. He was obviously not alright when he left and just from the fact that he disappeared for that long it should be obvious that something is seriously wrong - yet Feng Xin doesn't care about finding out, he's so angry at the way Xie Lian is “failing” to be the perfect image he's made up in his head that the moment he sees him again, he punches him in the face. Is that loyalty?

“Why are you being like this? When did you become this way?” Feng Xin mumbled. “I… I really don't know… I'm… Why did I follow you all this time - ?”

“Then stop following,” Xie Lian said.

Feng Xin couldn't wrap his head around that. “What?”

“I said, don't follow me anymore,” Xie Lian repeated. Then he slammed the door.

Four hours later, there was finally some rustling outside the room and low voices speaking. It seemed Feng Xin was bidding farewell to Xie Lian's mother and father. Feng Xin's voice was extremely low, the queen's voice was choked with sobs, and the king didn't say much, but there was a lot of coughing. The door opened a moment later, then closed. Feng Xin's voice vanished, and the sound of his footsteps grew more and more distant. Feng Xin had left.

[...] Before Feng Xin had left, Xie Lian had been afraid. Now that Feng Xin was gone, he wasn't scared anymore. But even though he no longer felt fear, he felt a deeper agony. Xie Lian had initially held a one-in-a-million bit of hope at the bottom of his heart. He'd hoped that Feng Xin would still stay even if Xie Lian admitted he had done things he shouldn't have, even if he became the worst version of himself. After all, the two had never left each other's side since he turned fourteen and Feng Xin was selected to be his personal attendant. They were master and servant, but more than that, they were friends. And Feng Xin had no one to care for aside from the crown prince either - or, at most, him, and the king and queen. But Feng Xin had really left.

Vol 6, page 273-274

And finally, as Xie Lian begins to crack under the weight of his trauma, Feng Xin leaves. Is that loyalty? Or, more precisely, we have to ask ourselves - who was it that Feng Xin used to be loyal to? Because from what we've seen, it was less Xie Lian the person and more the perfect image of a crown prince and a god Feng Xin wanted and repeatedly tried to force Xie Lian to be - a crown prince who doesn't behave inappropriately by carrying beggar children, who doesn't go against the orders of his Shifu, a perfect god who never falters and doesn't show mental or physical strain no matter what he goes through.

Xie Lian stopped eating and said gently, “But I can sort of understand… your feelings.” After a pause, he continued, “There was a period in my own life that wasn't easy. Back then, I'd always think about how wonderful it would be if someone could still love me for who I was, even if they saw me rolling in the dirt and couldn't get up. Though I don't know if there's anyone out there like that. And I'm scared of showing that part of myself too. But if it's someone San Lang yearns for… I think that even if they saw you at your worst, they wouldn't say something like, ‘ah, you're not so great after all'”.

His face grew solemn. “To me, the one basking in infinite glory is you; the one fallen from grace is also you. What matters is you, not the state of you. [...]”

Vol 4, page 182

This is why ‘what matters is you, not the state of you” is the foundation of Xie Lian and Hua Cheng’s love - they love each other for who the other is, not who they could be or should be by any given standard.

Now, someone might say this is all well and good but Hua Cheng wasn't present for the above scenes with Feng Xin and Xie Lian, so those can't be reasons for him to hate Feng Xin. To which I would say, 1. the above examination was about questioning whether Feng Xin really was as loyal to Xie Lian as that discourse seems to insist by looking at what the text actually tells us. And 2., Hua Cheng did encounter Xie Lian several times during his first banishment. And every single time, Xie Lian was alone, in increasingly bad mental and physical states, with no one helping or caring for him.

The first time they meet again, after Mu Qing has just left Xie Lian and Hua Cheng is a ghost fire:

“I won't forget. Your Highness, I am forever your most devoted believer.”

Xie Lian forced down a sob. “...I've already lost all my believers. Believing in me won't do you any good; it might even bring disaster. Did you know? Even my friend has left me.”

The nameless ghost declared as if swearing an oath, “I won't.”

“You will,” Xie Lian said.

The ghost was insistent. “Believe me, Your Highness.”

“I don't,” Xie Lian said. He no longer believed in anyone, especially himself.

Vol 6, page 136-137

After the failed robbery attempt, when Xie Lian gets drunk and falls into a grave:

“God fucking dammit!” He slapped the ground and yelled, “Is anyone there? Is there anyone who can help pull me out?!”

Of course there wasn't anyone. There was only a small ball of haunting ghost fire, blazing unceasingly as it flitted about. After Xie Lian fell into the pit, the ball of ghost fire rushed over, seeming to want to pull him up - but it would never be able to touch him.

Vol 6, page 175

When the group of heavenly officials and Mu Qing drive Xie Lian off the blessed land and Hua Cheng can't help him because he's still a ghost fire:

Xie Lian lay sprawled face-down on the ground in a state of disbelief, his eyes bulging. One of the heavenly officials had shoved him while he was standing there at a loss and made him take that hideous fall in front of so many eyes. It was too humiliating. There were voices all around Xie Lian, high and low, filling the air and invading Xie Lian's ears. He stared with eyes that couldn't be wider at the blackened ground in front of his nose, then he slowly raised his head.

Mu Qing was standing not too far away from him - standing among those heavenly officials, his head turned away, not looking at Xie Lian. Just like the rest of them, he had no intention of lending Xie Lian a hand to help him up. And thus, Xie Lian understood. No one would lend him a hand to help him up.

Vol 6, page 196

When Xie Lian is brutally tortured and violated by being stabbed over and over:

Unwilling to consider this any further, Xie Lian couldn't help but cry out. “Hel-”

Before the phrase “Help me” could leave his throat, the same icy black belt was thrust into his body once again. Xie Lian's eyes widened in horror. The razor-sharp sword was stabbed in, then pulled out. The next person followed without wasting a second, and the next stab was shoved into practically the same spot. The sound locked in Xie Lian's throat finally broke free, and a long, painful scream tore through his entire body.

Vol 6, page 255

And it doesn't stop there - Feng Xin and Mu Qing both ascend again while Xie Lian is lost in the mortal realm, and Hua Cheng is the only one looking for him. That Feng Xin spent so much time in the mortal realm because he was searching for Xie Lian appears to be entirely fanon, as I cannot recall a single instance where the text actually suggests this. And then when Xie Lian ascends for a third time, Feng Xin and Mu Qing are too cowardly to face him, and only seek him out in disguise. And again, they repeatedly try to separate Hua Cheng from Xie Lian:

After a moment, Feng Xin turned to Xie Lian. “If there's nothing else, you’d better hurry back to the Heavenly Court. Many of the heavenly officials have no idea what happened in that ruckus, and they're still waiting for news above. Jun Wu should have been informed by now. You need to report back and give them a proper account.”

Hua Cheng laughed out loud at his words.

“What're you laughing at?” Feng Xin demanded.

“And here I was marveling at how straightforward you are, but it turns out you like beating around the bush too,” Hua Cheng said. “You just don't want His Highness to associate with the likes of demons and ghosts like me, so why not say so openly? Think it's not your place?”

Xie Lian cleared his throat softly. “San Lang…”

“As long as you're aware that he shouldn't be associating with the likes of demons and ghosts,” Feng Xin said coldly.

Vol 2, page 261-262

So, to sum up, when we look at all this from Hua Cheng's perspective - why wouldn't he hate Feng Xin? He's had zero positive interactions with the man, repeatedly witnessed him going against Xie Lian's wishes, and had Feng Xin try and separate him from Xie Lian over and over again. From Hua Cheng's perspective, Feng Xin abandoned Xie Lian to his suffering and forgot about him, while Hua Cheng never wavered in his faith, and didn't give up on looking for Xie Lian even after hundreds of years.

Throughout the entire novel, Hua Cheng is the only one who consistently respects Xie Lian's autonomy - the only times he ever intervenes is when Xie Lian is about to do something that threatens his own physical and/or mental wellbeing. Many other characters, Feng Xin included, repeatedly ignore or even violate Xie Lian's autonomy and the novel makes quite clear how important and profound the distinction is between how Hua Cheng treats Xie Lian and how everyone else does:

Feng Xin glanced at him and couldn't help but say, “...I'm a little surprised.”

“What?” Hua Cheng replied, not turning or showing a single trace of curiosity.

Feng Xin scratched his head. “Since you're so biased against Mu Qing, I assumed you'd think he wasn't worth saving and wouldn't want His Highness rescuing him. I thought you'd prevent him from going.”

Only then did Hua Cheng spare him a glance. “Half-wrong, half-right.”

“Huh?”

“The first part isn't wrong - I certainly don't think he's worth saving,” Hua Cheng said. “I don't care if he lives or dies.”

“Isn't that a little too blunt?!” Seeing that apathetic expression made Feng Xin start to sweat; when he realized that this man definitely held the same attitude toward him, he sweat even harder!

Hua Cheng snorted, then after a pause, he added, “But only His Highness can decide what he wants to do. I will never oppose his decisions.”

“...” Feng Xin had never heard anyone say something like that before - not a man to a woman, and most definitely not one man to another. But he was quite sure that Xie Lian would only get all worked up and flustered again if he'd been here to hear it. “Ah… I see,” Feng Xin said, not knowing what face to make.

Vol 8, page 44-45

And just to make this clear - this is not me hating on Feng Xin. We also could probably all have lengthy but ultimately futile discussions on what loyalty personally means to each and every one of us, which is why when it comes to discourse like this I think we have to focus on what the text says. And I think through this examination it's become quite clear where the limits of Feng Xin's loyalty lay in relation to how it was tied less to Xie Lian the person and more to who he thought Xie Lian should be, and how even beyond Feng Xin's ultimate lack of loyalty Hua Cheng has many legitimate reasons to hate him in regards to how both he himself and Xie Lian were treated by Feng Xin.

Hope this answered your question!

[babybatss-blog]

A REUNION LIKE NO OTHER

totk!link x f!reader, 2600 words

authors note: Buckle in, it’s a long one! I went against the poll and wrote both the first and second voted pieces WHOOPS. Anyways, took a lot of creative liberties here due to my strong ass baby fever atm hope we enjoy :)

cw: reader is pregnant and married to Link, One used of Y/n.

summary: When your husband goes missing, you're determined to find him no matter what.

Things are never ordinary with your husband Link. Afterall, he is the hero of Hyrule, but from the moment he appeared bloody and battered on your doorstep things have never been normal. You followed him across the reaches of the world to save the society you love, settled in Hateno village together and eventually married there. You even fell pregnant with his child and was happier than ever. That was, until he disappeared.

Your husband was gone on another expedition with the Princess, yet this time he was more reluctant due to your impending birth date. You assured him you would be fine, giving him a sweet kiss on his forehead. Your charming husband, always so compassionate till the end.

Three days later you are knitting some baby mittens when a strong rumble knocks the cottage. Shrieks are heard from the village and birds erupt from the luscious trees, as a sturdy stag leaps out of the brush to gallop on your front lawn. Chaos ensues, but you have no reason to focus on the absurdities. Clutching your heavy belly as you burst indoors, you hide under the table for cover. The cottage still rumbles violently underfoot, but all you can think about is your husband and unborn baby. You can’t live without them, you just can’t.

But the earthquake is gone as fast as it came, and the small quaint town is quiet once again. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You’re safe, you’re fine and everything is normal. But of course, you can’t get up. You struggle and twist, trying to get up but you just cannot seem to. Going against the growing embarrassment in your mind, you call for help. After two hours or so of incessant yelling, Dantz the local farmer appears at your doorstep.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” He asks, after promptly helping you up. “Was that an earthquake?” you ask, expecting a nod or affirmation in response but instead, you are faced with an empty, almost regretful face. “What was it Dantz?” A long silence ensues, as he looks at his shoes, seemingly searching for an answer in their mud and holes.  

Finally, he looks up, meeting your eyes with an intensity and fear you have never seen before in the once solemn man. “The castle it… It floated…” Surely he’s joking right? Because Link just went there with Zelda and- “Link…” You realise, the emotions hitting you like a brigade. “What about him?” “He was at the castle with the princess! Are you sure that’s what happened?” He nods, and your heart sinks. “Yes, I’m sure. I was hunting up in the mountains when it rose, I had a view as clear as day. I swear the thing just lifted up, with the evil smoke joining it and the heavens opening up above. But he must be fine, he is the sworn hero of our land after all.”

Tears swell in your eyes. What does this mean? You’re no stranger to your husband’s strength and talent, but you can’t help but fear the worst in this situation. A few of the village women burst through the doors, surely knowing of your distress with the situation. “Oh sweetheart…” One empathises, sitting you onto a chair and wiping away the now gushing tears on your face as the other sends the man to find out more news. You were never really close to the people of the village, as you were in a strange in-between age and kept yourself in a quiet haven with Link. But in this moment, they felt like mothers to you, reassuring you and keeping you and the baby safe.

The next couple of days were agonisingly slow, with no news of Link or Zelda’s whereabouts. The women assured you that it’s because they are still exploring, but you had the wits to know otherwise. When Link had to go on the mission, he swore he would be back as soon as possible. “I’ll be safe, I promise.” He said, sadness in his deep blue eyes despite your assurance you will be fine.

But now you may never be fine. No one will let you leave the house, pampering you with food and gifts just like Link used to do. Whenever they come to visit you the first thing they say is “no news” because they know that what’s on your mind. So, when you gain wind of a group of people from the village going to Hyrule field to begin a search you leapt at the chance to join them, just wanting to find your husband and return to normality once again.

No one stopped you. You may be nine months pregnant, but you are still the woman who aided Link in his journey and have a piercing stare that could scare a bear into defeat. A complex woman you are, sweet but strong, empathetic but harsh. So, packed onto carriages with others hoping to find Link and supplies to set up a temporary camp your journey begins, just praying for his return to be soon. You’ve heard about falling rocks, sinkholes leading to the unknown and the resurrection of Ganon’s monsters, but it wasn’t until you laid your own eyes on them that it became real.

Multiple bokoblins and some sort of monstrosity lead bokoblin interrupted your journey, causing a few men to become injured. One of these unfortunate men fell into a satanic dark goop, which caused him severe immobility. You pray to Hylia that Link will know how to fix this once he comes back.

And there it was, the castle in all it’s infernal glory. As the others set up the camp, you sit starstruck at the sight above you. Not that you could help anyways, with a human growing inside you. Deep down, you already know what you are faced with. This is a great evil, worse than ever before and ever will be. If Link couldn’t prevent this, you fear no one can.

Although you desperately want to stay hopeful, the week following your arrival shows no light at the end of the tunnel. You can barely sleep, gathering information from those around you on all the recorded sightings of Zelda. No Link though. A chef at the lookout tells you that perhaps it’s just a coincidence no one has seen your husband, although you’re not so sure. He’s strong, so strong in fact that if he was alive, he would be with you right now. But he’s not, instead you are on your own praying for his arrival.

Two weeks have now passed, and you sit in the bunker where everyone sleeps at the dead of night. So many of your new friends have become sick from this substance you now call gloom, it seems as if an apocalypse is upon you. Purah has been making towers to survey the lands easier, which you hope sheds a new light on your expedition. If it doesn’t, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Staring at the goddess statue, you have nothing left to do but pray.

“Oh goddess Hylia, please grant me your blessing to find my husband. Our child will join us any day now, and I do not what them to live without him. Without knowing his smile, his voice or his warmth is something I would never wish on our child. What kind of mother would I be if I willingly raised a child in the pits of hell such as this? Please grant this grace to my child, if not to me.” Tears now stream down your weak face, such desperation you have never felt before this moment. You tried to stay quiet in your prayers, but at this point you just give up, wailing and choking on the force of emotion. A crowd soon surrounds you, failing to sooth your despair, but all it does it make things worse. If Link were here, he could calm you down. In fact, if Link were here none of this would have even happened, and you would be safe and sound at home. You are now filled with intense rage at this fact, because in the end he has left you all alone. How could he? He promised, he promised, he promised, he-

Thick wet liquid drips onto the floor, and your hyperventilation subsidies. Oh no… You’re giving birth! Another woman beside you also connects the dots, and jumps into action effortlessly. “Quick, get the nurse, she’s giving birth!” She says, as you pant at the pushing sensation that overcomes you. A couple of men lead your staggering body over to a bed, where you lie down. “Link…” You call, somehow expecting him to appear at your side. But he doesn’t, your alone, with no husband here to aid you…

You push and you scream and you kick, just wanting this Hylia forsaken thing to get out of you. Someone grabs your hand to soothe you, but you soon push them away. It’s no use, you feel as if you are dying, your insides splitting and spilling forth. Strings of curses leave your mouth as the final wave of pain subsides about three hours later, and is replaced by the piercing screams of a newborn baby.

“It’s a girl!” The nurse exclaims, which is followed by the ruckus applause of the landing members. You were never one to thirst for attention, and now is no exception, as you anxiously await holding your daughter in your arms. As the nurse is cleaning up, she asks what the babies name will be. “Navi. Link has always loved that name, it seems only fair that’s who she is.”

Baby Navi overtakes your life, almost causing you to forget why you gave birth so far from home and without Link. You don’t forget it though, because every moment you look to your side or call his name he isn’t there, and grief over takes your body. A month has gone by, and no one will let you join the search. Therefore, you spend most days sitting with Navi outside of Lookout Landing telling her about her father.

“He has blonde hair and blue eyes, just like you. They sparkle when he laughs like yours too, but he doesn’t scream nearly as much as you do. In fact, he’s quite the opposite. He’s a quiet man, but if you’re lucky he’ll tell you a story about his travels. I’m sure he will tell you everything soon, he won’t shut up once he gets to know you.” The sweet girl laughs, acting as if she understands what you are saying. At only a month old, she already is so cheerful and loud. You wish Link was here to see her.

You get lost in this thought, looking up at the castle. If only they let you join them, you could find him, surely. Although, they don’t have to let you do anything. If there is one think your husband taught you, it’s to do what makes you happy. Despite his great responsibility, Link found joy and determination in the littlest things. He would go on impromptu expeditions and quests, even if it made him seem insane because that’s what he like doing. Helping others, and having fun.

So why do you have to listen to them? You go inside to the camp and stride over to nurse who has been helping you with Navi. “Are you able to babysit for a second? I just want to go on a little walk.” You ask, a sweet smile plastered on your face. She graciously agrees, thus giving you a moment to yourself. Trekking up the hilled path of the castle, you go over in your mind exactly where he may be. If he was underground and the castle lifted up, would he still be underground or was he taken up in the ruckus? It’s most likely that he is underground, but he does often climb up to peaks to survey the land.

“Ma’am, what are you doing here?” Hoz, the leader of the expedition asks, with a group of men in tow. “Oh, I’m just here to help. And no, you needn’t worry about me. I’m perfectly fine to join you” You rebut, giving them no time to argue with you. “Are you, sure? I wouldn’t want you getting hurt, and neither would our hero Link.” “No, I’m fine. I know the most about Link, I even travelled with him. I am the most equipped to search.” “Okay then, if you insist. Well, we are all splitting up into different areas to cover more ground. Why don’t you go with my team to the east?”

You go with the group to the designated spot, leaving no time for pleasantries. Once you stop on an out perch, you deliver the needed instructions. “Okay men, here’s what’s going to happen. Five people are going to go to that section, five there and the rest with me. I think Link climbed to the top of the castle to get a view, and we may find some clues there. Otherwise, checking the armour room may be a good idea. If he’s been inside there will be some weapons missing. Any questions?” You scan your eyes across the group, but no one seems to be paying attention. Instead, their eyes seem to be lying behind you, with a bewildered look on their faces.

Rolling your eyes, you turn around. You should have just gone on your own, instead of with these boys who just want to- behind you stands a man, short in stature but with long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes piercing your soul. They swell with tears, a soft smile on his pink lips.

“Y/n.” The man says, who could only be your husband. You ponder the idea that he is merely a figment of your imagination, but once he says your name everything crashes down. Blinded by his face you sprint forward, as he runs towards you also. You throw your complete weight onto the man who stumbles backwards, but he doesn't seem to care as he laughs and you cry, spinning you around and around.

Finally he puts you down, eyes stuck on yours and the largest smile on his face. “Oh Link I was so worried! I had the baby and I missed you so so much!” “You, you had the baby?” He asks, stepping back to look at your stomach. You nod furiously. “She’s a girl.”

“Navi?” He asks, already knowing the name which causes another nod in response. Your just so happy, you don’t even notice the crowd forming around you. You grab his arm, looking down at your gorgeous husband to see…

“Link!!” You jump back, shocked by the sight of a green warped arm on his body. He nods, looking down also. “We were attacked. I don’t know where Zelda got to, but she teleported away and I woke up with this strange arm.” You look back up at his eyes. They’re full of regret and remorse, as if he somehow failed a mission from long ago. You know he didn’t fail though, because he tried so hard to keep both her and everyone safe.

It doesn’t matter though, because he is here with you. Your family is reunited, in a reunion like no other.

[aliesbienish]

A study of wolves: part six

chapter one ✩ chapter two ✩ chapter three ✩ chapter four ✩ chapter five

“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen Lauren. I’m not interested in you like that,”

“Are you kidding?” She hissed, “and you’re interested in her?” Pointing a sharped clawed finger in your direction.

You prepared yourself for a polite no, but when Paul opened his mouth you thought you had misheard him.

“Absolutely.”

“Absolutely?” You queried as Lauren gaudy heels clicked away. “You didn’t have to say that, I’d have understood if you wanted to see her. We’re done with dinner anyway,”

“Trust me I didn’t say it because we’re busy, my answer would have been a no regardless.”

“And the other part?” Paul cocked in his head in confusion. “Telling her you’re interested in me? Was that just to get her off your case?”

It was amazing how insecure you were feeling, but you couldn’t help compare yourself to the blonde who just departed. The girl, while maybe a tad over the top, was clearly your typical small town beauty queen. Her platinum blonde hair, shiny clothes and pointed nails were of a stark contrast to your mud covered khaki and plaited hair littered with twigs. It felt like you were back in high school and that thought made you nauseas.

Normally you were more sure in yourself, but despite knowing Paul only a few days he seemed to destroy your sensibilities. For some reason your heart, despite your brains best logic, seemed to think that Paul could change the course of your future. You weren’t sure you were ready for the answer.

“Sorry, sorry. You absolutely don’t have to answer that. We can revert right back to before Lauren came over and pretend none of this happened if you like! I totally understand I’m probably not the type of girl you are usually in to, so don’t worry no need to let me down gently,”

“[Y/n],” he stated ending your panicked rambling. Grabbing onto your hand, he used his other to turn your blushing face so you were making eye contact. “Why wouldn’t you be the girl I’m typically interested in?”

“I know you don’t know me very well but this is it. I don’t have a girly, giggly side. I’m not the typical girl guys go for, especially guys like you.”

“Like me?”

“Well yeah. Attractive, smart, funny guys like you. I’m not their go to type,”

“You are assuming a lot about me, while simultaneously undermining how amazing you are. You aren’t doing either of us any favours.”

“What assumptions am I making?”

“My type in woman. Why did you think I was lying? I said nothing but the truth to Lauren.”

“But that means you’re…”

“Absolutely interested in you.”

“Oh. Can I ask why?”

“You can, but just know that it hurts me that you think it’s a valid question. I am interested in you because you are amazingly witty, so much so prior to the last five minutes I haven’t wiped the smile from my face. I’m interested because you are so insanely intelligent and passionate about what you do. I’m interested because you are openly kind and caring, and I can see how interested you are while still carefully respecting my boundaries. And I’m interested because you are the most beautiful woman I’ve seen, mud and all,”

“Right, is that all?” You gulped trying to make a joke, but instead your voice came out shaky and high pitched.

“Not even close. So now that I’ve made it abundantly clear how I feel, just tell me if I screwed up by clueing you in.” It was Paul’s turn to look anxious as he tried to pull back his hand still locked in yours.

You grabbed onto it, linking your fingers together. “No, you didn’t screw up. Quite the opposite really. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since we meet. But don’t you think this is crazy, we have known each other for a few days? I’m not sure we should be feeling like this,”

“Just because it seems fast doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“I can’t imagine this ever feeling wrong,” You declared, biting your lips in anticipation.

“Me either, so who cares if some arbitrary rules say this is too fast. At risk of sounding like a cliche - if you know you know - and it sounds like we both know,”

“So does that mean we’re all in?”

“Absolutely,” Paul muttered as he placed his hand on the back of your head, gently pulling you towards him while giving you ample time to stop. Instead you leaned in pressing your lips gently to his. You could swear you felt sparks, and somehow kissing over discarded plates of chips in the corner of a small dinner was the best moment of your life.

“Well let’s hope we follow our subject matter.” You muttered as you reluctantly pulled away, “did you know wolves mate for life?”

Paul chuckled, you have no idea he thought.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"That's hilarious," Jared chuckled moments after Paul shifted for parole and his day came spilling out through their connection. "You couldn't even make it a day without falling head over heels in love with her"

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Hi all, sorry for the delay - but I hope this absolute sap will get me back in your good graces! I am finally finished with uni so actually have some time on my hands now.

Ali x

[foundfamily-connoisseur]

PUNCH OUT HCS CUZ I DONT GOT TIME TO DRAW THEM BUT THEY WONT LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

Something something the voices

This is so long I'm sorry

No I'm serious I started derailing I think

LITTLE MAC

Mexican-American! His ma is Mexican and immigrated to The Bronx, where she met Mac's dad (who we have nothing on lol, he dipped before Mac was born).

His ma? Oh yeah, she died :( He doesn't know how, just that he came home one day (latchkey kid) and saw the cops surrounding the apartment. Placed him in an orphanage but got into fights a lot and deemed him a 'problem child' (literally just an autistic kid grieving the loss of his mom)

As said, Lil Mac is autistic! For the most nonverbal and thus uses ASL, but also speaks English and Spanish from time to time(English from Doc, Spanish from his mother and childhood friends who helped him keep up). Spanish is his preferred language tho.

Narcolepsy haver. It usually doesn't interfere much with his actual boxing matches since he's learned to feel when they're coming and deal with them accordingly. Took him and Doc a while to figure out that he had it since they just chalked it up to his prior malnutrition(which also impacted his growth, capping him at a whole 4'9)

Affectionate(?): must be initiated by him. He's very much for hugging and holding hands but if someone else does it first he's like :/. Only people he's ok with is Doc Louis so far.

Trans: transman who figured himself out pretty early when he only played soccer with the boys out in the mud. His mom cut his hair super short as a 'punishment' for always getting dirt in his braids but jokes on her he loved it. Doc has been helping him with hormone blockers, and with the prize money saving up for surgery 🙏 you can do it maccie boy!!! No one else in the ring knows and he'd rather keep it that way thank you (both out of nerves but also why do they need to know 🤨 what are they the fbi???)

Fashion sense: if you try to get this boy in anything but a tank/shirt and shorts he will explode. This man rocks flip flops and sneakers for days and it's all that's in his wardrobe (maybe another hoodie or two). A lot of them are rather worn but he hates the idea of "wasting" money so he uses em till they're literally impossible to wear.

Very spiritual: believes in el Mal Ojo aka Evil Eye and such. (Mostly from his mother and the women on the block that took him in from time to time). If he thinks your vibes are off, he will do an egg cleanse and swears that they work (they do i can attest to that chat).

GLASS JOE

EDS HAVER!!!!! (Ie Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome). This man has glass bones and paper

he don't care he will fight till he's dead! That and boxing actually does rlly help him with his joint pains. He finds it kinda funny when ppl worry about him like "sorry guys i gotta lie down real quick i think my ribs went criss cross". He prefers to get around on wheel chair but can get by with crutches(to which he just lays on the bed forever afterward)

Cat dad!!!!: less him having an actual pet cat than him just tending to whatever feline that crosses his path. May or may not have some scratches on his hands don't worry about it.

Actually really good friends with Mac: (we're going to pretend that they aren't literally thousands of miles away shut up). One of the few to make an actual effort to learn ASL rather than pick it up slowly or have Doc translate. In turn, Mac has gone about learning bits and pieces of French, enough so that both can communicate in their respective language and the other can (mostly) understand them.

This man is such a critic like what do you mean the food lacked a certain "je ne sais quoi" or the movie "insisted upon itself". He really wants to be nice but if it has any touch of French, he is going to murder it because it isn't French enough or actually accurate.

Had an ex fiance to which they broke off for reasons he'd rather not elaborate.

VON KAISER

Tics: he has em. They worsen under stress, but occur randomly or if overstimulated

Served in the military before being discharged. He doesn't like talking about and his tics start acting up if the topic is brought up.

Widower: wife died fairly early into their marriage and he was absolutely distraught. They both always talked about having kids, and a part of him still wants that, but it won't be the same without his Engelchen.

Career: he had wanted to be an engineer, but after serving in the military couldn't bring himself to go into it. That, and being a boxing teacher let's him tend to kids, even if it means getting socked in the stomach. He always acts like a strict instructor, both from his own experience in the military and because he wants to keep the kids at arms length. Also his wife being a kindergarten teacher had nothing to do with it nooooo

Close friends with Hondo and Glass Joe. Bear Hugger is a friendly fella but his loud and boarish disposition gets him riled up. Gets along well with Little Mac and if Doc isn't present for whatever reason, he's good at helping Mac calm down if he starts getting overstimulated and vice versa.

He also totally doesn't have Lil Mac be a pseudo son to him and think about his kis could've been potentially his age who said that.

Emotional support animal: German shepherd called Hugo. That's his baby right there

Disco Kid

That man's a fruit your honor!!!! No but fr tho he's a queer man living his best life.

Also a drag queen! (Name pending). Doesn't really care for how others perceive him and goes with the flow really.

Definitely fought with his dad a lot when he was younger, but as he grew his father came around and now they have a pretty solid relationship.

He's a total mommas boy tho he will literally die for her. He also has a little sister who he plays dolls with. (And yes she asks him to say it in his girl voice iykyk)

Gets along with pretty much everyone besides Mr. Sandman really (Aran Ryan is an interesting case. You heard it from the grape vine but they have an on and off relationship).

An art major for sureeeee. Idk what kind but im sensing something

Really good with machinery though. Usually just so he can fix up his car and stereos.

KING HIPPO

He is for sure not human. I always draw him more beastly but he's probably closer to whales/hippos than actual people.

Like hippos, all that's fat is really just pure muscle. No cuz google up a hippo and remove their skin them bitches are SHREDDED!!!

Naturally very affectionate, although he prefers his pals in the minor circuit (and Lil Mac. Yes this is Little Mac supremacy everyone will be his friend).

Absolutely loves cocktails. They come with fruit how can he not. Funnily enough he despises apples though.

Has multiple wives: a primary wife and secondary wives. Has kids with most of them and naturally, the first born son will take his place when the time comes. (He does love all his kids and wives equally tho so don't worry about them).

Surpringly eloquent" while he can't exactly form human speech, his writing is impeccable, both in letter and in word choice. No one knows how he does it with those claws and big ass hands.

PISTON HONDA

This man has so much manga it's insane. This mf probably has a whole room dedicated to his collection. Yes most of them are Shojo and yes he has a lot of Sailor Moon merch and memorabilia. (although he does also enjoy other such Mangas like JJBA and Inuyasha. I'd say he's embarrassed about it but bro was reading Sailor Moon out in the open so id say he's at least fine with reading it publicly.

Has gotten some of the other boxers to read some of his recs and watch some animes with him (he will force you to watch Madoka Magica and Revolutionary Girl Utena. It's only a matter of time.) It's also how he got into other shows like Candy Candy (by Mac), The Golden Girls(by Disco Kid. He likes his oldies what can he say), and pretty much any and every telenovela ever created (Wow wonder who it could be).

Has a pet Shiba Inu that he loves to bits but DAMN does she test his patience sometimes. And he has a lot of it.

Also began learning ASL when he caught wind of Glass Joe doing it, although he practically forced Lil Mac to learn Japanese because damn it, sometimes the dub doesn't do the show justice!!!

Has two older sisters!!! He's the baby of the family lol and it don't matter if he can pick em both up they'll still pinch his cheeks and tease him.

BEAR HUGGER

Trans: a transgender man who's loud and proud. Never bothered with top surgery he ain't cutting off his girls!!! He could pick up the vibe™️ with Little Mac but he's not the type to try and force the conversation. He'll let Mac come to him on his own time, and if not then that's fine too.

Loads of animals: similar situation to Glass Joe, although now it applies to all animals. Bro is a Disney princess. He sticks his arms out and birds fly to perch on them. Can seemingly hold an actual conversation with animals and no one knows if he's losing it or if they are.

Family: an only child, but with loads of cousins who fill in that sibling role. He's actually really good with kids and takes care of his nieces and nephews from time to time. He has thought about being a dad from time to time (he'd really like to have a girl) but always decides against it.

Affectionate: to the highest degree. That man is always asking if ya need a hug and it ain't just a threat for a grapple/ear clap. He and King Hippo get along swimmingly as a result (if only they didn't die if they went to each other's respective home country 😔)

Prosthethic: ya cant tell cuz of his clothes, but he has a prosthetic leg! (Stops a bit below the knee). If he ever takes it off for whatever reason, he always goes "aw man, guess I'm on my last leg" and the crowd goes mild. Thinks it's the funniest shit ever tho and he won't stop making the joke (Little Mac made it worse by giving an actual chuckle. Mac you've doomed us all with your horrible sense in jokes. I blame Doc)

GREAT TIGER

Loves cats: absolutely adores them. This man has a cat onesie I can feel it in my bones. He hangs out with Glass Joe solely for the cat (also the baguettes).

Gossip: he has a horrible habit of gossiping that he's tried to curb but astaghfirullah sometimes he's gotta talk about Don's receding hairline😔 Mac isn't helping him pinche chismoso!!!

Doesn't like going to parties involving alcohol with the WVBA because almost always he's forced into designated driver. Usually he just teleports away because he's not dealing with that yall are calling an uber!!!!

Actively avoids searching up ingredients in things he eats (like gummies) because if he doesn't know it's not Haram.

Sneakerhead: very proud of his collection. Also really into rap music (we don't talk about his career...that never happened chat) and you will hear it blasting from his car.

Sister!!! Stealing this from a fic but he has a younger sister who works internationally. If she's there with him she serves as his translator.

Magic: not limited to clones or what's seen in the game, but it's his preferred type of magic. He can also transform things and people into other things/creatures. He accidentally made Mac into a rabbit and everyone had a field day with that one.

DON FLAMENCO

Chismoso: this man will shit talk anything and anyone. If you talked with him chances are you're part of a gossiping ring with the older ladies who work nearby. I think they're talking about how you're a puta but idk

Former womanizer: this man banged anything that had a beating heart and a pretty body. It wasn't until he met Carmen that he knew what love really was. Once they got together UGHHHH this man was a fucking loser for his Carmen. Took years to win her over but it was all worth it for his amor.

They talk about kids sometimes, but this mf childish that he sees it as having to share his beloved fiance. (They for sure have kids later down the line tho. Give them a minute damn!)

Beef: tbh he doesn't really get along with anyone; he just dislikes them all to varying degrees. He and Mac hate each other on the principle of one being Hispanic/Latino and the other being a Spaniard. Do NOT leave them alone for any reason. Last time they both argued about the spanish word for 'straw' and sent each other to the hospital where they argued some more.

Telenovelas are his life force. If you interrupt his showing of La Rose de Guadalupe, he will literally kill you.

Got Aran Ryan into it by accident: he was watching Teresa in the living room when Ryan was crossing to go to the kitchen for a bite. An hour later he's sat on the couch hand in heads. They both watch it together now.

Great cook: he makes a means paella and he knows it. Always makes it to show off 'Spain Superiority'. Little Mac hates his guts but he's not gonna turn down a free paella.

ARAN RYAN

People joke and say he has brain damage which is why he's so crazy, but he actually does have CTE so 💀

Family: aside from his general knack for recklessness, having a piece of shit mom and an even worse dad (who of course had to die in a freak accident at work) does not exactly leave you the most sound. He has loads of sisters and brothers, being the second oldest of the bunch (with one older sister of which the hate is mutual). It's a big factor to why he doesn't want kids; he's spent a big chunk of his life working to raise them.

Boxing: to him it was both an outlet for his eventually anger issues and a means to raise money in the same punch. It did lead to fucking him up physically, as after a particularly nasty bout with Mr. Sandman, an eye got knocked out of place so he's working with only 50%.

Very jittery: you can never catch this man staying still. Even in his sleep he either tosses or twitches a leg or arm. Trying to make him stay still just makes it worse.

Repressed Bi it's not even funny. His excuse for his on and off relationship with Disco Kid is "well he's basically a lady!" He'll come to terms with it eventually, but that's one hell of a long road.

Superstitious: biggest thing for him is luck. he breaks a lot of shit but mirrors are not one of them!

Low-key misogynistic: "my sister punches harder than ye, boy!" Like damn your sister must be knocking ppls jaws clean off the freak. If he ever finds out that Lil Mac is trans it's just gonna be him like "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT" cuz now he's gonna get canceled on Twitter dot com by Super Macho Man😔😔😔

SODA POPINSKI

Married!!! Has a tiny little wife that he loves to bits. She will scold him and he's just all :]]]] wife...I luv her sm... he's a total wifeman

They've been trying for a kid (bro you can't just say that...gross). Naturally this man wants a shit load of them god help that woman.

A major reason to why he's been making efforts to curb his drinking habits! Of course he still hits the bottle every so often, but he's for sure gotten better than his first time in the ring.

Cooking skills: surpringly decent believe it or not! Anything with meat he's killer with and he always makes ridiculously large portions. (Yes it's because he wants to make something nice for his lady let me make a wife guy!!!!)

Really likes Beyonce. Major fan actually he goes to so many of her shows.

Horrible with social cues. This man does not understand when he's being too overbearing (to the detriment of his friendship with many alas😔 especially Von Kaiser and Little Mac). Tries to apologize by offering them a soda like 🥺🥤

Speaking of Little Mac, he once tripped over him (6'7 vs 4'9...oh dear). Flash forward to them in the hospital. They both swear to never speak of this again (also Soda gets him authentic mexican cola so like...we're all good here).

BALD BULL

Anger issues galore: got his father's temperament(don't we all???) And in addition to being bullied a lot as a kid, he hasn't really found the best way to manage. Usually he just goes out to a secluded field or heads out to the sauna, but the press has done little favors to his mental sanity.

Cat magnet: not of his own volition. They are drawn to him like flies to honey. He doesn't really mind them and are a nice way to de-stress.

Music taste: while he usually listens to classical music and instrumentals, he loves himself some girlie pop music. You pull out his ear buds and just catch "Girls just wanna have funnnnn" Before he punches you into the sun

Cattle farm: Inherited from his family, he loves all his cows to bits. They are his pride and joy. He has Glass Joe come over sometimes for some cheese and wine.

Isn't particularly close to any of the boxers beyond Glass Joe and Soda Popinski. He spends some time with Lil Mac, usually just to go out and get some ice cream or something. He likes the kids company cuz he isn't as energetic or demanding in the same regard a lot of teens are.

SUPER MACHO MAN

He for sure has a purse dog named princess. It's a white pomeranian with a pink bow i just known it.

Was a child actor! His family got him into the world early, staring as the sweetheart of whatever show or movie he was in. In his later teens, he was the heart throb before he left the scene as an adult to focus on boxing. His parents were at first disappointed, but after seeing the money roll in? They had no problems after that.

Romance: as expected, nothing permanent. He usually just has loads of flings or one time hook ups that never amount to anything, and he doesn't bother looking for anything "real".

Probably has a kid out there somewhere but if he does, he's denying it till his dying breath.

Similarly to Don, he doesn't really get along with anyone. For him it's just a matter of his own superficial nature. He absolutely detests Mac, but is the only one to know ASL fluently due to a former childhood friend. He doesn't use it beyond wanting to be bitchy in secret.

I know he's super tan but I'm not allowing him to be white. He's a lil something...will figure that out later.

MR SANDMAN

Yeah ngl I don't got a lot for him. I don't think i have anything actually. Huh

He mains Kirby in smash.

He used to have a lisp when he was younger

Yknow how some parents will have kids super far apart? Yeah his parents did that what do you mean he was 22 and he got a new baby sister. What the freak.

He absolutely hates Macs guts but also can't take him seriously on account that he's 4'9. Whose child is this. Literally, when he first entered the ring, he asked whose kid was this and that children weren't allowed in the ring. Lo and behind this was the schmuck that knocked the lights out of 12 other fully grown men, and he was coming for your ass next.

BONUS

DOC LOUIS

Took Mac in when he was around 9, formally adopted him as soon as he could. Heard of a ruckus for a missing child some minutes away and when he came back with Little Mac, he thought he found his parents. Then he got the situation explained to him about how he didn't actually have anyone, everyone just agreed to look out for him. There he officially took him in as his son.

Put the kid back in school after learning he hasn't been in since his mom died. He's considerably behind for his age, but has taken great strides to catch up. He's now just a year behind.

Definitely a major learning curve when it came to raising a child, much less one who barely spoke english(if he spoke at all) and prone to outbursts. It's been years since then and he can't imagine a world without that kid.

Had a wife but they divorced after he found out she had an affair. Sent him on a downwards spiral but he managed to pick himself back up. Having a kid to raise really helps him out.

Close to his sister, but that's about it. She's who gave him pointers on how to raise a kid, as they were about the same age. He doesn't think hes have done as well if it wasn't for her.

Former coach of Bald Bull, but parted ways after arguments on what exactly that wanted to do moving forward. They're amicable now, though.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Jan behind the cut; "Superboys Switch". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Maybe even the same age, he thinks, and then forces himself not to think about it.

( they’re less than a day old, and they look THIS old. how many years is that? how much of a childhood did they lose? how much– )

Jon forces himself not to think about it.

“I really don’t think not committing murder is being a stick in the mud,” he says, and the kid snorts and then floats up a couple feet into the air, half-tucking their feet under themself as they do. Jon–frowns, for a second. That looks . . . something about how they’re flying looks a little off, for some reason. Like–different from how it looks when Dad and Aunt Kara do it, and different from how it feels when he does it. 

Then again, the kid’s two seconds into flying, so it’s kind of ridiculous of him to assume they’d do it exactly right straight off the bat. 

“Being a stick in the mud is just, like, a vibe, dude,” the kid informs him matter-of-factly, then floats over towards Jay and peers over his shoulder at the screen, then immediately looks bored by whatever’s on it and looks around the lab instead. They still sound nothing like Jon would expect someone made in a lab to sound, and his gut twists a little. 

But also, whatever’s on that screen already made Damian suggest committing multiple murders, and the kid just looks bored about it, one way or the other, so . . . 

So Jon doesn’t know how he feels about that, exactly. A kid who doesn’t sound like they came from a lab and doesn’t act like they came from a lab, but also doesn’t seem even slightly concerned by whatever made Damian seriously consider committing murder again and did not make Jay dissuade him from said consideration. 

It definitely makes him want to get said kid the hell out of this miserable excuse for a basement, though. 

“Just–you guys figure out the theoretical arson, I’ll figure out what to do about the staff, alright?” he says, sighing again. He can probably toss them all in a transport vehicle or two and then just carry those straight to the police while Damian and Jay watch the kid, he figures. Which isn’t great for a “you should send these people to jail” thing, admittedly, so maybe he should actually call the League and see who’s available to help Jay strip the data for damning evidence while removing any damning DNA or anything like that. Or, like, whatever they need right now. 

“I still consider what to do about the staff a fairly simple equation,” Damian mutters under his breath as the kid turns upside-down in the air behind him and peers at the heavy hood of his cape and the sword slung across his back. It’s a sakabato–a reverse blade katana, he means–and the reason that Jon is under pain of kryptonite not allowed to tell Batman anything about anime, like . . . literally ever. It just looks like a normal katana visually, though, especially when it’s sheathed, so he’s not sure why the kid looks so puzzled about– 

“Why’s your sword sharpened on the wrong side?” the kid asks, frowning in bemusement, and Damian pauses. 

Jon pauses, because Damian’s sakabato sheath is lead-lined. Mostly so he has a quick supply of lead in emergencies these days and less because he doesn’t want Jon to know what’s in it, but it’s definitely still lead-lined. There’s no way the kid could’ve seen through it, so how . . . ? 

“It allows the weapon to be used nonlethally,” Damian replies, watching the kid with a neutral expression that screams “suspicion” on a Bat. “As well as making the decision to slay a foe a more deliberate choice, as the weapon must be wielded backwards to cut.” 

“Doesn’t that mean the sharp side’s always pointing towards you?” the kid says, wrinkling their nose. “And like, isn’t it way harder using it backwards, if you gotta?” 

“Yes,” Damian says. “That is the point. The weapon is a handicap meant to keep me from inflicting a mortal wound any way but deliberately, and also to make that wound harder to inflict even once I choose to.” 

“. . . that is so badass, oh my god,” the kid mutters under their breath. 

Jon is still concerned about how the kid found out about Damian’s sword being a sakabato, since if Cadmus had told him he’d think they’d have at least had theories for why it was a thing, but also is now significantly less optimistic about his chances of ending up the kid’s favorite. 

Yeah, he should’ve absolutely told Batman about anime when he was still young enough to get away with it being an “accidental” slip of the tongue and embarrassed Damian out of ever using the damn thing in the field. Like, ever.

[bonkbobl]

beautiful fool

ROOSE BOLTON X READER | PART 2

a/n: wait okay i didn't mean to fall down this rabbit hole but roose bolton can get it i dont really care. genuinely sometimes i forget that hes a bad... bad bad bad man. he has that flavor of bad thats just so alluring though i cant resist. i forget that the boltons often torture people for fucks and giggles but rewatching the scene where roose just fucks with jamies head for no reason other than thinking it might be funny made me think to what lengths would he go for something he actually wants. warning that its unedited and unplanned and this is more or less a train of thought fic.

summary: he had to have you. whatever it takes.

warning: REALLY explicit, major dubious consent, honestly headed toward straight noncon. very problematic trope of being forced to fuck but then enjoying it. forced marriage. id say dark roose but lowkey this is pretty in character for this bad bad bad man bad man. bad man.

Your heart raced out of your chest, fear even threatening to bubble and explode out of your throat. You almost got away. You nearly escaped. And here you were, tackled into the mud just by the river by men who wanted to hurt you. Hurt you and whatever was left of your family.

The men who whispered taunts in your ear as they tied your hands behind your back laughed. These were the same men who just two days ago invited the woman who you call mother and the man who was like a brother to you into their home to feast and murdered them.

You knew they'd send out a hunting party after you. But you thought swimming in the water might throw them off your scent. You weren't so lucky.

And as they dragged you back, the words of those men rang ominously through your head, "It's too bad the lord wants her untouched. I'd very much like to touch this one."

A lurking feeling told you that you'd probably have preferred to fall into the river and crack your head open on some jagged rock than find out what use the Lord of the Dreadfort had for you.

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

"What happens if I refuse," You asked, lifting your chin in defiance, as much defiance as you could manage with your arms tied behind your back.

Roose tilted his head at you almost like he was amused that you'd even think you have a say in the matter in the first place. "Then I'll put a bastard baby in you," he responded, his frankness and lack of shame sending cool shivers down your back. "And once the bastard is born I'll put another in you."

You couldn't help the frustrated tears that pooled in your eyes and you ripped your gaze away from him, fear bubbling in your chest and making you feel sick.

"Whore of Winterfell, or Lady Bolton. It's your decision, love."

Ever since that conversation you had pondered how likely it is you'd make it even a few miles before you were captured, either by Bolton hunters or the Ironborn. Either would be unpleasant. You wondered if you could find a way to just be done with it all and join your ward family in the seven heavens rather than fight. But you knew you could never bring yourself to. You were one of the living, through and through. You had to run.

And plan, you did, but no opportunity came. It was only a matter of time before you were put in a pretty white dress and brought under a Godswood to speak your vows to the man who betrayed your true king.

All you could think was why. Why cant he just let you go. You have no legitimate claim that could threaten him. You're not a stark. You're just a girl. You don't come from a large family. Not one of influence. There are no banners to raise. No substantial actions you could take against the new wardens of the north. You were more likely to die trying to run north than you were to be any kind of threat.

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

It wasn't like Roose to hold affections for any particular person. It was rare for him to even feel a vague sense of fondness towards anyone. A person is useful and competent. If they aren't then at best they are a nuisance that he could do without, at worst a threat to the Bolton name.

But you.

You were every bit as much a fool as the man who took you in as a ward, and that same mans son who grew up with you. You fretted over honor and doing the right thing when your enemies would not pay a second thought. You argued in favor of the late Queen Talisa's insistence on helping both Northern and Royal forces, allocating countless coppers toward medicating the enemy.

You aggravated Roose to no end when you first began to speak out. And yet he found that his eyes would always meet yours, rake downward against his will really. And though it only added to his aggravation, he brushed those feelings aside as the natural desires of a man.

He, in no way, found you difficult to gaze upon. It was infuriating, even more so that you seemed to understand the effect you had on men, flirting about with the son of Karstark and joking crudely with the men as if you weren't a lady to be respected.

And yet he found a stirring in him when you'd make an innuendo that was a little too risque.

He soon found it difficult to not think of you. Especially when you, the beautiful fool, revealed yourself to be of a sharper mind than even the King in moments.

"I love Talisa, truly, but think about it, Robb. You may be winning battles right now. But if you become too close to her, your closest advisors may falter. You risk losing the war."

"We have little food to sustain the rest of the camp, perhaps it'd do the Northern cause some good to do something about the overflowing kennels. As distasteful as it is to execute so many."

"Karstark will be avenged if you go through with this, please Robb. His forces make up a third of ours. Think. Think about it, I beg you."

Roose was irked by the fact that he agreed with you on more occasions than not, but he was impressed nevertheless. And it only kept you on his mind more. No, it wasn't love, Roose was sure of it, it erred more on the side of an intrigue that escalated to the point of near obsession. You were, after all, young, beautiful, thoughtful, and you held a level head. More strong than his first wife, less stiff and rigid than his second. More alluring and exciting than both.

The way Roose saw it, Robb Stark was becoming more dangerous to the interests of the North, growing increasingly reckless as the war went on. It was really his duty to usurp the so called King in the North, whod surely lead all the great Northern Houses to extinction if this masquerade continued on. You, however, would be a great loss if you were to drown alongside the wolf.

A great loss, indeed. Not to any higher purpose, you were not from any significant house. No, you just deserved to live. It baffled Roose to know he felt that way about any one person. But he reasoned it's simply because he wants you for himself. His pretty little wife — you'd fit that role so well.

He even remembered the way the old Lord Frey cackled when he stated his intentions with you.

"Marry any of my daughters and I will give you her weight in silver, My Lord. An offer of good faith and my grandson shall become Warden of the North."

"I'm honored by the offer, believe me. But I already have a prize that I've set my eyes on."

Frey's eyebrows arched in amusement.

"The Stark Ward," Bolton answered the unspoken question.

And the old man laughed, harder than a man his age should be able to, and sure enough his joy was cut short by a few uncouth coughs. "Pretty slut. I cannot say I blame you, Lord Bolton. I'm embarrassed I didn't think to take that pretty thing as my spoils before you did."

Roose offered a polite smile and hum, "I'll wed one of your children or perhaps grandchildren to whatever child I will have with my new wife."

Frey chuckled, nodding, "Hm, expect me to remember such a promise, my lord..." Then with a sardonic smirk, the lecherous old man spoke again, "Eh, I assume you aren't the type of man to like to share, are you, Lord Bolton."

And Roose's smile dropped into a hard glare. Frey laughed again, waving him off.

"A joke," he reassured, "Alright. After we kill the boy and his mum, you keep the whore. I cant wait to see how you deign to tame the bitch."

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

The very same halls you grew up in echoed terribly as your husband led you to the chambers you would share. The Lords chambers. You remember running to this very room to pester your Lord and Lady, sometimes Sansa or her older brother running alongside you.

Lord Bolton hardly spoke a word to you. All the better, for you could not bear to look at him. All those months of sitting across him as both of you counseled the proclaimed King in the North, and you thought you knew the man. You even admired him, vied for his approval. You thought him to be intelligent, more clear headed than the men that are easily driven by anger or lust and other vices of men. You'd smile to yourself on the occasions he'd agree with you or appear to approve of your advise.

To be honest, you thought Lord Bolton had no such love or affection toward you, especially in the very beginning when he wouldn't even stop to regard you, or he'd clearly speak over you, brush you aside, advise your king the opposite of the words you'd spoken. You thought he saw you as a mere child, playing at king and hand like you and Robb would as babes.

Now you think he really must have hated you. You wonder how long he hated Robb, and all the Starks, all their allies. But you, he must have hated you especially. Why he would feel the need to subject you to the greatest torture of living with him, being bred by him, carrying child after child, you wondered why why why. Why does he hold so much resentment toward a young girl. He must be a sad man.

You suddenly realized he was staring at you, watching your teary eyes, your clenched jaw, your shaky breath. You stared him in his cold eyes, defiant. Though you knew it was useless. You knew what would come next. He made it clear.

Whore of Winterfell, or Lady Bolton.

Was there any difference?

For Lady Bolton, the children you bear him would be heirs rather than bastards. For Lady Bolton, you'd have a title, your "honor" in tact. But everything that mattered would remain the same. Youd take him nightly. You could only hope for him to cease his visits once a babe has taken to your belly

"Lady Bolton," your husband commanded your attention.

You faced him, inches away from the bed. He towered over you and you did your best at a feeble attempt to not let him intimidate you. You were scared. You wanted to be strong but the thought of what was to come next was scaring you. There's no escape.

"Lord Bolton," you replied, nothing but spite in your tone.

He breathed a humorous scoff, shaking his head slightly, "Undress yourself," he said, barely above a whisper, challenging you by tilting his head to the side. His eyes were so cold, barely feeling. You'd not be surprised if he told you he wasn't human.

Swallowing, you began unlacing your dress, attempting to remain hard as steal. But a tear finally trickled down your face when his hand reached up to cup it.

Your fingers stalled to a halt when he leaned in to kiss the tear, an action that would be comforting from any other man but you knew he meant to mock you. This was meant to be humiliating. He doesn't care for you. He kisses your tears away to remind you he doesn't care. He might even like it. Stop crying.

But you couldn't. You squeaked out a small sob as his lips came down to meet yours, hungry and demanding. Your shaky breath let out a heavy sigh through your nose and the feeling of fear strangely extinguished from your chest for a moment. Instead, your chest rose and you met him in his kiss.

His lips were surprisingly soft, his tongue felt dirty in your mouth but you couldn't explain why you didn't want to bite it off and spit it out. Instead you felt helpless and you let his tongue roam your mouth with little to no fight. When he pulled away from you, a string of spit tried desperately to keep the two of you connected but smacked against your chin after a mere second.

Your breath was heavy, cheeks wet with tears, flushed and probably looking a mess. You didn't want to imagine it. The vague sense of disgust with yourself remained but it just felt slightly different. You didn't know how to place it. It stirred rather pleasantly in your lower tummy and you felt really tense down there.

"I will repeat this command. But for the future, I want it to be known that I don't enjoy repeating myself. Undress yourself."

You heard his words clearly and allowed him to kiss you again. Your fingers clumsily and hurriedly worked at your dress. You stripped yourself bare as he did as he liked, kissing, nipping at your lips. His hands explored the new inches of your body as they became more and more exposed to him.

They roamed over your back, and back in front to cup your soft tits, weighing them, toying with your nipple... roamed back down your back, squeezing your firm ass. You couldn't place the feeling, you couldn't place it. You didn't like the feeling. You wanted it to stop. And yet if he pulled away you felt as if you might lean back into his touch inexplicably. You'd hate it but you'd go back for more.

Whenever he groped you a little too hard, you'd whine without even realizing it and Roose's pleasure would grow. Once you were fully naked, you grew awkward, not knowing what to do with your hands so you backed toward the bed. But he followed.

The rough fabric of his clothes felt harsh against your soft skin. You had nothing to do but whimper again and when you turned your head away, he simply let you, instead taking the opportunity to finally look at you, his little wife. Beautiful, clever, stubborn little wife.

You ducked your head, crying, confused at the way you felt, confused as to why you weren't fighting him harder. And that spurred you to begin.

Roose realized you weren't fighting him the second he kissed you and he shared your confusion for a second until he felt your tongue caressing his in reciprocation. He's sure you hadn't even fully realized your own actions as you had rushed to comply with his orders.

He half expected you to be a shy blushing bride but this reminded him that you were a little of a tease with Robbs men, cracking nasty jokes that a lady should not have been aware of. You were no blushing bride. In fact, you were a bit of a slut. A tease.

And suddenly, it struck him that the behavior hadn't so much aggravated him in the way that he thought. In fact the memory of you flirting with those men who were now burried in the ground or thrown into the river, gave him this strong sense of accomplishment to have you here.

Roose began undoing his trousers, unsheathing himself to your horror and you pushed him away, escaping the only way you were permitted, crawling on the bed and trying to get over to the other side. Roose was too fast, grabbing your ankle and pulling you down.

You fell but you kicked him in the chest and he laughed, dropping your ankle, but only so he could grasp your hips firmly and pull you back along the edge of the bed.

"Down, girl," he commanded, as if you were a dog.

You cried, clawing at anywhere to escape to. But he was right behind you and as you looked around, you knew it was hopeless. Still the fight burned on in your chest. Then you heard a smack and a sharp pain in your buttock, jolting you under your husband.

Another one came because you refused to calm yourself, then his hand slipped between your thighs and he spanked you again as another feeble warning.

"My lady," He started, waiting for you to calm finally before chuckling. Then your torturer informed you of something, no doubt to break your spirits, "Are you aware, Lady Bolton, how wet your cunt is?"

His rough weathered fingers rubbed at your entrance, barely pushing in and sure enough the sound of your slick being rubbed and spread around, filled your ears. Your fists balled the sheets under it and your legs helplessly kicked up, though with no purpose. You couldn't get away. From him. From your shame. From your body's betrayal.

"Your womb is begging me to fill it. You feel it, don't you?" He taunted, "You're confused, aren't you. Stupid, confused, little wife."

His fingers slipped away and you fought to catch your breath, fists relaxing because he stopped. But then his fingers were replaced by something thicker and hotter and your struggle resumed. Your hips squirming but all it did was slicken his cockhead for an easier entrance.

"Let me clear your confusion, stupid little wife." Roose cooed to you, the tone of his voice unfitting of the cruel words. "You are exactly where you belong. Under your husband, serving your husband. The Warden of the North. There's no need to fight your fate or fight your pleasure as you are exactly where you belong."

Then he began pushing into you and your toes clenched, back arching inexplicably. The new angle that you provided made it easier. You knew it didn't make sense but it made perfect sense to Roose, who chuckled behind you, smacking your ass, this time not in displeasure but as a praise. Your body twitched at it, cunt squeezing and pulsing around him as if it were trying to suck it in.

Your moans grew more wanton as he pushed in torturously slow. And of course it hurt, stung, when he forced past your maidenhead but you couldn't even bring yourself to squirm away from that. You were rightfully his.

When his hips met yours, he just held himself buried inside you for a few seconds and you continued to contract and twitch around him, small squeaks of confusion escaping your throat against your will. You couldn't stop squirming. The sensation of something so big filling you stirred you uncontrollably.

A hand trailed down your thigh, nudging it upward and you followed the movement, allowing him to prop your leg up on the bed. Then he began thrusting and your face heated up when you heard just how wet you were. Each time his hips pressed flush against you, youd feel the cool sensation of your slick on his balls.

It was all so vivid. Even if you couldn't see what was going on behind you. You knew. And the most shameful noises forced past your throat as your husband fucked you deeply and slowly.

"Listen to yourself," Roose muttered, hands coming up to grab your shoulders.

It allowed him to hammer deeper and harder into you, the sharpness of his thrusts contrasting the slow strokes he started with. You cried out, shameful but you were horrified to find that you did not want him to stop. Not when he was... oh his cock was hitting something inside you. Deep inside you.

"Keep making those noises, darling wife. I cant tell if I enjoy your pleasure more or your tears."

You cried out, a small sob at the end of it. And despite your better judgement, you turned your head to look at your husband. Your naked body contrasted so much with his garments, which stayed mostly unmoved. Only his pants and breeches were pulled down to his mid thigh.

His expression hardened upon evaluating your features. There was nothing more beautiful, your lips parted in a pleasure that confused you. The tears had dried by now but your hair was a mess and your eyes swollen and pinkish. Not to mention the way you were splayed out beneath him. He landed a firm spank to your buttocks again, aiming to leave marks.

You whimpered, eyebrows coming together as your pussy clamped down around him. Roose grabbed your hip that was propped higher than the rest of your body due to your leg that was positioned on the bed. And he used that hip as leverage to pull your body into him.

The confusion within you turned to fear when an unfamiliar feeling began building within you. You cried out loudly and involuntarily clamped down even harder around him, pulsing uncontrollably as he jackhammered into you ruthlessly, intensifying when his hands abandoned your hips for your neck.

You couldn't help but feel as if you were reduced to a little object. He could grab you wherever and however he wanted and pull you against his cock and you had nowhere to run and yet you couldn't even deign to lift your legs and kick at him. You surrendered to the smallness that he made you feel, cries and distress replaced by whimpers and submission.

You came to find your body shaking and convulsing with a blinding kind of pleasure. Even your moans died into a breathy, shaky sigh, back arching as you sank further into the sheets beneath you. Your lord gave no sign of stopping, another self satisfied hum rumbling from his chest.

"Good, so good, darling. I knew you would come to enjoy your new position."

And with that you were filled again with shame, though not yet strong enough to overshadow the stubborn pleasure which muted any feelings that might incite discomfort. You especially could not feel displeased when your husband firmly snapped his hips into you, releasing a grunt. He continued to pump into you, slowly but firmly. sighing along with his thrusts. It was the only compromise in composure that he allowed you to see and you were only sure at this point that he was finished with you.

Surprisingly the spilling of his seed didn't feel like much but your cunt squeezed him, as if it was aware. And you felt satisfaction wash over you, as if your body was also aware.

To your shock and shame, your ass gyrated beneath him, rolling itself against him to fully milk him for all he had to offer you. And you hid your face, pausing once you realized.

After recovering from his release, Roose watched you closely, appreciating the way you still squirmed, restless. You moved your leg back down to the floor and pushed back, hips meeting his and your cunt convulsed again around him due to the overstimulation. He stood like a barrier, looming over you a he rested his hands on the edge of the bed where your hips were and your restless little cunt continued to twitch and pulse as you tried to compose yourself desperately.

You breathed deeply but it was hopeless. You could not walk away with your dignity, fully aware of how Lord Bolton stared upon his Lady Bolton, satisfied with how you gave into him so easily.

You shivered and your breath hitched when he landed a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then you sighed, settling down again for him. And a needy whimper confirmed your submission.

Roose loomed over you, giving you another small kiss on your temple.

"You did well, my lady."

The approval got to you. Your days on Robbs counsel trying your best to say anything intelligent that would make him accept you as an equal. It all led you to this moment. But you never did accomplish your goal of being viewed as an equal, at least it didn't feel that way in this moment. His softening cock still inside you, the only thing stopping his spend from trickling down your leg. Oh the shame of it all.

"I'm pleased to find that you enjoyed it as much as I did."

"No," You protested but in your voice you could tell you didn't even believe yourself.

Lord Bolton merely laughed. And you whimpered again, willing yourself to sink into the bed and disappear. Then your husband pulled back and spread your ass cheeks apart, giving you a lengthy thrust. Though he was not as hard as he was moments ago, the movement was enough to make you shiver.

"Then we should try again in a half mark of an hour. I shall train my lady wife to welcome me into her bed."

You bit the inside of your mouth to prevent another whimper but it was ripped from you when Lord Bolton spanked you again.

Oh yes, Roose Bolton would commit a thousand betrayals and massacre a hundred false Kings if it meant he'd end up with you, here, to warm his bed.

[blackmistral]

Bound by Love - Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader/OC

Omg first of all - HI! so no one knows me here (😞) but if any of you ever wrote a fanfic about Alcina, i most probably read it bc i'm literally in love with her! I began writing this a long time ago for myself and decided to finish it to publish it here! My first language isn't english and I originally wrote it in french so I hope the translation isn't too bad! Please feedback for any mistakes! (it's so goddamn short ngl)

The path to the village was by no means hard to access. The only real dangers were the traps and the lycans - who nevertheless kept a relatively safe distance from the young woman. But on this day, there was no such danger.

   Laura made her own way to the village to go to the night market, claiming she didn't mind the task. Alcina Dimitrescu's three daughters, Bela, Cassandra and Daniela, had all offered to accompany her, but she had told them she'd be quicker on her own. So, she dressed warmly, given Romania's capricious October weather, and went out with nothing more than a sorrel basket and a small purse. She hadn't gone to notify Alcina of her departure, since she was still working in her office and wish not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency.

   So, she headed down towards the village, keeping an eye on her surroundings. The trees around her looked threatening, as if they were warning her off. As she went deeper into the forest and looked back for a moment, she noticed that she could no longer see the castle in the fog. Clenching her fists for courage, she started walking faster. Each step seemed to lead her back towards an uncertain danger; and she widened her eyes when she spotted a large shadow behind her. It must have been there for some time, but the bad weather had prevented the young woman from seeing properly. A hand came to rest on her right shoulder, and she jumped. Thinking at first of a lycan, she was, for a moment, calmed by the realization that the figure behind her was not a monster but a man. But when she looked at his dirt-covered face, she was astonished to discover that there was nothing human about his gaze. He was glaring at her bitterly, as if she wasn't really to his liking. A wry smile appeared after a few seconds, however, and she suddenly remembered that she was alone - and defenseless - against this stranger.

   “Did you get lost, pretty girl?”

   His voice sounded to her like a low growl, meant to be threatening. Laura tried to step aside and answer, but the hand on her shoulder moved abruptly to her throat and grabbed her neck. It was hard to breathe now, and the realization hit her once again. Not only was she alone, but she wasn't expected back at the castle for at least another hour. Alcina, she thought. She imagined her face until the grip around her neck tightened and the man pushed her to the ground. She tried to catch her breath, but her assailant came dangerously close, giving her no respite.

   She wondered how this had happened. Alcina had told her, warned her, that she shouldn't go out alone. Laura had found her reasons somewhat foolish before, until now.

   He threw himself at her, a terrifying smile plastered on his face. She began to cry now, her tears falling into the mud. The man grabbed her jacket and blouse and yanked them off, tossing the clothes aside. She was now in her underwear and bra, her face twisted in fear, trying in vain to scream for help. She felt naked, humiliated. He moved his fingers towards her chest, ignoring her pleas and cries, forcing one of his hands over her mouth to silence her. It was when he touched her breast that a ferocious growl was heard, stopping the man in his doing. He frowned.

   “What the hell?”

   Behind him, a shadow nearly ten foot tall made him break out into a cold sweat. He turned around slowly, and Laura recognized her. She'd recognized her by the rumble in her voice. Alcina. She now approached at full speed, growling again, and sank her outstretched claws into the mortal's throat. Blood splattered onto her white dress, but she paid it no mind, her gaze fixed on the one she was about to kill.

   “My wife. My partner. You dare lay your hands on her? Prostule!” she exclaimed almost breathlessly, the rage consuming her.

   He choked as he tried to answer, but she dug her claws into his chest, and he stopped breathing. Laura watched the scene before her, torn between relief and fear. Alcina dropped the lifeless body to the ground, seeming to regain awareness of what she had done. She rushed over - still with the same elegance that fascinated Laura - and knelt beside her, taking her in her arms.

   “My darling,” she murmured.

   Laura noticed that Alcina was trembling too and put her arms around her neck.

   “Alcina... Alcina,” she sobbed.

   “I'm here, comoara mea.”

   The vampire ran her gloved hand through the young woman's hair and embraced her, rising to her original height. Laura wrapped her legs as best she could around her broad torso and rested her head on her breasts. She was still sobbing, shocked by the events that had taken place in such a short space of time. Alcina stayed silent and walked carefully to the castle.

***  

   Inside, the oil lamps were still burning brightly. Laura's skin was pale, slightly bluish at the tips, and her teeth were chattering. Alcina went straight across the central courtyard and into the building where their apartments and luxurious bathroom were located. A bathtub, with gigantic dimensions to match the vampire's supernatural size, was set in a corner of the room, near a window overlooking the forest below. Alcina placed Laura gently on the cabinet and sat her down, then tried to pull away; unsuccessfully, in view of the small, trembling hand that held her by the sleeve of her dress.

   “I'll just run some hot water, darling. I'll only be a moment.”

   When the young woman nodded softly and let go of the cloth, Alcina moved to the bathtub and turned on the hot water tap. She added one of her wife's favorite foaming soaps, then returned to her. Laura had never looked so fragile. True, she was a “tiny” woman, but this was one of the only times she'd seen her so terrified.

   It was a sight she never wanted to see again.

   She approached again and slowly ran her hands over the marks on Laura's neck.

    “My beloved... Forgive me for not having been here before. As soon as I knew you were in danger...”

   The vampire lowered her face to her wife's throat and planted her canines delicately in the mark she had given her at their wedding. Laura stroked Alcina's hair as she kissed the bruises. The brunette took Alcina's face in her hands and gave her a tired but sincere smile.

   “I'm fine now. You saved me, as you always have.”

   Yet, despite her reassuring words, Laura was still trembling. Alcina stepped aside, undressed and removed Laura's remaining clothes with ease, then led the young woman to the bath. She placed her at the front of the tub and settled herself behind her before pulling her back against her chest. Warm and tender kisses were placed on the nape of her neck and Laura sighed.

   “For a moment, I thought... it was too late,” she whispered.

   The big arms around her instinctively tightened and Alcina nestled her nose in his neck.

   “I'll always be there to protect you. From anyone and anything. I sensed you were in danger the moment you came across that... horrible lucru stupid de om.”

   Alcina growled softly, then tenderly kissed the back of the young woman's neck.

   “When I sensed your fear, your anguish... the first thing I did was look for you all over the castle. The girls came to see me and told me you'd left... Why didn't you warn me? You know the risks of leaving my lands alone, my angel.”

   “I didn't want to bother you,” Laura admitted. “You're so stressed with the investors these days…”

   “Those stupid incompetents - and my wine - are not my priority. You are my priority,” Alcina whispered, turning the brunette's head to rub her cheek against hers. “I apologize if I let you think otherwise.”

   Hearing these words, Laura turned in her wife's embrace to face her.

   “I didn't mean it that way. Even though I often find it hard to believe, I know you love me,” she said, smiling sheepishly, her cheeks flushed. “And I'm enormously grateful. Without you and our daughters... I'd be nothing.”

   Alcina ran a hand through her companion's sleek hair and smiled back.

   “Just like us, darling.”

***

   When the water turned cold and Laura had fallen asleep, Alcina decided it was time for them to go to bed. Their daughters had probably gone hunting, and it was late in the night by now.

   Once settled comfortably in their bed and dressed in a light nightgown belonging to Alcina, Laura looked peaceful, the vampire thought. She lay down beside her and wrapped her arms around her again. Alcina was by no means an insecure woman. She was afraid of nothing and nobody. But in the presence of such a fragile being... She couldn't help wondering if she would ever be too late.    She frowned. “No one's going to take you away from me. I love you too much for that to happen.”

[rockingrobin69]

Want

Malfoy did this thing where he only used a finger and a thumb for crisps. He’d wade through mud without a second thought to retrieve Scorp’s ball from the hissing nettles, he put his arm up to the elbow in cold spaghetti sauce on a dare, he rolled down not one but three different hills with Teddy on their hikes, but when it came to crisps, he was his perfect lordly self. A finger and a thumb going in neat motions, barely even crinkling the bag. A dignified amount of crisps pinched tightly, brought slowly into his mouth. So careful and clean and entirely unintentional. He didn’t even know he was doing it.

Harry did.

Harry noticed everything about him. Hard not to when Malfoy was like this, weird and loud and awkward, pathetic and incredible and everywhere. When Teddy adopted him and Scorp (officially, with a letter he’d hand-written, signed with a drawing of, randomly, a horse); when they moved in, and Malfoy’s pyjamas became a recurring vision, llamas and tiny buttons following even in his dreams; when he found the stray cat, named her Nibbles for no earthly reason; when he was a menace, and Harry adored it. Him. Adored—the whole thing, how their lives suddenly became this, tight and uncomfortable and too warm and perfect.

Teddy was no help. He practically had love-hearts for eyes whenever Malfoy walked in the room. All these ‘Draco, look!’ and ‘Draco, can you—’ and ‘Draco, Draco, come sit next to me!’ that drove Harry spare. And Scorp was such a tiny little thing in all his Molly-made-jumpers, babbling with a look of utter importance and following Teddy around, and cackling with joy whenever he was in Malfoy’s arms. And the cat, fucking, cat, always getting kisses and—

No, Harry wasn’t jealous, that wasn’t quite it. He was… overwhelmed with how gentle it all was. Never really imagined life could be like this, didn’t think he’d want it. Discovered he did with such terrifying intensity, that he yearned for something that wasn’t quite nameable, that he somehow almost had. It kept him up at nights and filled his days with this weird, feverish joy. It was soft and itchy and all his. Almost his. So fucking close to being his.

And Malfoy was right there, sitting across from Harry with his ankle on one knee and the bag of fucking crisps and the way he was eating them, almost—decadently, and utterly, helplessly serious. On the rug, Harry realised he probably loved him.

Stretched, leaned slightly to his side until he was touching Malfoy’s knee. “Hey,” he said, swallowed.

“Hi.” Malfoy offered him the bag. “Want some?”

“You eat crisps funny,” Harry said for an answer. “All cleanly and stuff. It’s funny.”

“Oh. Well. Always happy to amuse you.”

He was so ridiculous, with the little stickers he let Ted and Scorp stick on his socks, on the sliver of his leg that was visible. It would hurt like hell to rip these out, all the fine blond hair caught underneath. Harry couldn’t breathe for a moment, it struck him so hard.

It was the middle of August and a really cold day. All the lights in the living room made it look like… something Harry wanted so badly. Instead of trying to make it into words, he leaned his head against Malfoy. Allowed the fingers threading through his hair. The movement so, so gentle.

“I’m picking Ted early from school tomorrow,” Malfoy announced some time later, in this awful voice he used for Scorp, or when Teddy had a nightmare. “He hates the dentist, so I promised to take him on a walk after. Maybe the hill where we went last month, the one with the waterfall.”

Harry hummed something delighted and heartbroken. Buried his face in Malfoy’s thigh, surrendered to the feeling of his hands, of his warmth.

“Harry… I meant, do you want to come with us? Sorry. That’s not—wasn’t quite clear.”

Buried his face tighter.

“Or—maybe we can go another day? Just us. You and me, I mean. There’s this place I think you would like. If you absolutely insisted, we could take Nibbles along on her lead.”

Brought his head up, pouted at Malfoy’s pretty face. “No, that’s…” stopped when he noticed the smile. When he realised that this thing that he wanted was already his. Pressed a tiny kiss to Malfoy’s shin, to a sticker of a star on his hairy leg. “You are,” Harry said, and meant it from the bottom of his heart. Breathed, breathed. Sat there and grinned to himself.

The bag of crisps crinkled. The afternoon went on, lit and weirdly warm. It was the life Harry didn’t know he wanted, that he ached for, that he had.

(If you enjoyed this, I've recently shared the first part of Wonderful on AO3. Consider checking it out for your pining needs).

[lokismischievousmusings-fanfic]

Ok… do you all remember when I said I was working on a Detective Loki AU where he’s hunting a serial killer? Well here’s the introduction!! Please let me know if you like it!!

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mention of murder, death, crime, cause of death. (Nothing gory and no details)

Characters: Loki, other OCs.

Summary: After living for some time on Midgard, Loki takes a liking to the small city he’s been banished to. Seeing the darkness of humanity day after day for almost a century has Loki feeling like he could make a difference. He joins the local detectives to solve the city’s violent crimes and comes face to face with his first serial killer.

Snakes and Daggers

The shrill ringing of his cellphone cut through the silence in Loki’s flat like a knife through butter. He grumbled turning over and grabbing the phone and answering it with a grumpy growl “This better be important.”

A moment of silence on the other end and then the voice of his partner “I think homicide is pretty important but what do I know?” Detective Fowler replies sharply. “Ah, hello Ethan, do you have more information for me or….?” Loki sits up and runs his long fingers through his messy onyx curls. “Yeah, we have a body, I’ll text you the address, get your ass down here” Fowler snapped back. “So grumpy Ethan, I’ll meet you there soon” Loki teased him before hanging up.

—•—•—•—

Loki arrived at the scene, officers and crime scene technicians bustled about. Camera shutters clicked, baggies rustled and Fowler barked orders that hung in the air with the fog of his breath. Fowler was young but he was no rookie, he had reddish brown hair and blue eyes with soft untouched skin to match. Ethan Fowler barely drank, didn’t smoke, ate healthy and dressed well. “Everyone relax, I’m here now” Loki joked as he ducked under the crime scene tape and approached Fowler “So what do we have?” he asked.

Fowler sighed deeply and his glance flashed to the right of them. “Young female, deceased. A man was walking his dog and it pulled him off the trail and straight up to the body” he describes solemnly. “How young Fowler?” Loki presses further. “Maybe 19 or 20, college age” Fowler answers. “Shit! This fucker is escalating. This is the third body this week” Loki growls deeply.

Then grass and gravel crunch lightly under their feet as Loki follows his partner down to the location. The scene was all too familiar for Loki now, an innocent young girl lying nude in the twigs and mud, dumped like trash. Loki squats down near the body “I’m sorry darling, I’m going to catch this asshole, I promise” he says quietly. “Why do you talk to them?” Fowler asks inquisitively. Loki straightens and faces his partner, hands in his pockets. “What do you mean?” he tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “I’ve been your partner for a while now, I’ve noticed you talk to the decea- to the victims, why?” Loki searched Ethan’s face for any sign of mockery but none could be found. “Because they can hear me, I am a god after all, even if I’m not their god” Loki explains as he takes his notepad out of his blazer pocket and flips it open. “Yeah that’s the other thing, what is a god doing on earth working as a homicide detective in this shit city?” Fowler laughs as he asks that question following Loki back towards the body. “Well originally I came here to hide from retribution for my so called crimes on Asgard. While I was here I saw so much of this violence and hatred you all have towards each other, innocent people being slaughtered by people they loved or trusted. After that I learned that many of these crimes as you call them, they go unsolved and well that really upset me. I have a gift with my siedr and I realized I could use it for good, to help with this, so here I am” Loki continued examining the body, at one point even taking a camera from tech and snapping his own photos. “Hmm, interesting reason” Fowler shrugs and snaps a pair of gloves on.

Loki looks up at Fowler, almost through his lashes at this angle “So are you going to interrogate me some more or actually work on solving this crime?” he motions to the murdered girl in front of them. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’ve been your partner for a little over a year and I realized I don’t really know that much about you or who you are” Fowler replies squatting down. “How about we focus on our victim? Find out who she is yeah?” Loki answers back raising his eyebrows. He reaches out and gently brushes the hair from her neck revealing bruising “Victim is a young Caucasian female between 19 and 25 years old, bruising around the throat suggests that the victim was strangled, there is no evidence to suggest that the crime took place here, location appears to be a dumpsite” Loki speaks into a recorder as a tech takes down notes. “Hey…. Lokes….” Fowler’s tone changed to that of concern. “What is it?” Loki looked over at his partner, he seemed paler than a ghost. “Isn’t this the girl who was talking with you at the bar Saturday night?” Fowler asks quietly so the others won’t hear. “Shit… yeah it is her” Loki goes even paler than he already is and stumbles back. “Well did you get her name?” Fowler asks him. Loki looks around at the other officers and begins to breathe heavily, he runs his fingers through his black tresses “Uhh no, we just talked for a few minutes at the bar” his voice was shaky. Fowler steps closer to Loki “Hey, no one is going to think you killed this girl” he assures him. “Obviously no one is going to think I’m a bloody killer Ethan!” Loki hisses at him through a clenched jaw. Fowler backed up a little bit with wide eyes “Whoa, calm down Loki. You looked upset or nervous or something Is all" he explains. “Well, I am upset, I talked to this girl and now she’s dead, was the guy watching her while she talked to me? Did he get her after I turned her down and she left the bar that night? How did this happen?” Loki rambled on a bit in his worry. “Loki this had nothing to do with you and doubt you could've stopped it, let's say you did take this girl home, there would be a different girl laying here in her place. You and I have been doing this long enough to know that” Fowler reminds him. “I’ll meet you back at the station, we’ll start looking into her last movements and see if she has anything in common with our other victims” Loki replies as they head back to their vehicles.

This was the 4th victim in two months, the killer had the same MO each time. The victims were left nude and appeared to be washed prior to being dumped, cause of death strangulation. Each victim was discarded near the lake in the tall brush near the woods, it wasn’t an easily accessible area. The bodies had to be carried to the location, the killer would have to carefully navigate the gravelly shore to reach it. Loki had no doubt that the killer chose the area because the rocks made it impossible to leave any footprints behind. The question was when he was leaving the bodies, it had to be at night since the lake was a popular spot during the day. These killings were eating at Loki, keeping him awake and consuming his thoughts as he tried to chase down the monster responsible.

Tags: @mischiefmaker615

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

I had a dream last night that Shadow and Bone cast was doing meet and greet out in the middle of the street in front of the building where I live. The street was closed of course and there were tents set up and stuff. Patrick Gibson was holding a protest sign for some reason. I couldn't see what it read from my window.

I hastily put on a red shirt and while I was putting shoes on I saw that they were already leaving. The girls had already left. (I was more excited to meet them 😭) Ben Barnes and Patrick Gibson were trying to get Archie Renaux to get into a car, but he was too busy splashing in puddles. I jumped out of the window to get to them in time. (It was a dream, so...I mean, if it was real I might've risked it if I lived on second floor.)

When I got to them Patrick Gibson was putting Archie Renaux in a car. I ran up to Ben Barnes and asked for a picture. We took a selfie but I was so nervous it came out awful. I apologized and he just laughed and we took another selfie. It came out alright this time. They acted exactly like they did in the interviews except Archie who acted a bit like Mal. Or maybe not like Mal but he really liked splashing in puddles and getting mud all over himself. Then he took his shirt off. Patrick was getting exasperated.

May this dream be a prophecy.