#wives come to my aide

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Sometimes you just have to listen to the live version of a song and feel like you're ascending to godhood...

[sillylotrpolls]

(Credit and a truly absurd amount of context below the poll in case you don't know who the Old Took is.)

Today's poll looks at a question posed by @sindar-princeling:

Bilbo barely passed Old Took's record lifespan after having a supernaturally-life-extending ring for 60 years. which begs a question. what the hell did Old Took do

In the notes on that post, the most popular theory by far was espoused by @mitsuhachiinthehive, who posited that Gandalf hooked up with a hobbit at some point and [some of] the Tooks are his descendants. This idea was further spread thanks to @the-haiku-bot.

Additional theories which I cribbed for poll options:

The diamond cufflinks were magical in more ways than one @elodieunderglass

He drank an ent-draught courtesy of the missing ent wives @betterofflost

He got hold of a random magic elven ring @morgulscribe

If you would like some a lot of context from canon so you can decide for yourself, more information about the Old Took is beneath the cut.

First off, it's established multiple times in the books what a big deal it was for Bilbo to beat Old Took's record. From The Return of the King:

He opened his eyes and looked up as they came in. 'Hullo, hullo!' he said. 'So you've come back? And tomorrow's my birthday, too. How clever of you! Do you know, I shall be one hundred and twenty-nine? And in one year more, if I am spared, I shall equal the Old Took. I should like to beat him; but we shall see.' [...] Little Elanor was nearly six months old, and 1421 had passed to its autumn, when Frodo called Sam into the study. 'It will be Bilbo's Birthday on Thursday, Sam,' he said. 'And he will pass the Old Took. He will be a hundred and thirty-one!' 'So he will!' said Sam. 'He's a marvel!'

Here's a biography on the old hobbit from Tolkien Gateway:

After the death of his father in 1248, Gerontius became the twenty-sixth Thain of the Shire. He was a friend of Gandalf, who gave him a pair of magic diamond studs and performed firework tricks during Gerontius' midsummer-eve parties. Gerontius Took reached the impressive age of 130, which made him the oldest Hobbit until his grandson Bilbo Baggins celebrated his 131st Birthday. He also held the record of most offspring, until Samwise Gamgee bested him with Tom's birth in S.R. 1442.

And from Tolkien Gateway's page on the Took Family:

Tooks were mainly of Fallohide Hobbit stock, and had quite a reputation for unusual behavior (among other things being more adventurous than the other Hobbits), a quality not valued in the Shire. For this they would be seen as less respectable, but those traits were "tolerated" thanks to their large numbers and wealth. An absurd legend among other families, was that one of the Took ancestors married a fairy. The Wizard Gandalf was a known, if disreputable, associate.

Here we have Gandalf introducing himself to Bilbo in The Hobbit. Note that Belladonna Took is one of the Old Took's 12 (!!) children.

“Yes, yes, my dear sir—and I do know your name, Mr. Bilbo Baggins. And you do know my name, though you don’t remember that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me! To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!” “Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never came undone till ordered? Not the fellow who used to tell such wonderful tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of princesses and the unexpected luck of widows’ sons? Not the man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer’s Eve. Splendid! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!” You will notice already that Mr. Baggins was not quite so prosy as he liked to believe, also that he was very fond of flowers. “Dear me!” he went on. “Not the Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures? Anything from climbing trees to visiting elves—or sailing in ships, sailing to other shores! Bless me, life used to be quite inter—I mean, you used to upset things badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had no idea you were still in business.” “Where else should I be?” said the wizard. “All the same I am pleased to find you remember something about me. You seem to remember my fireworks kindly, at any rate, and that is not without hope. Indeed for your old grandfather Took’s sake, and for the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give you what you asked for.”

And for context, Sam was 102 when he sailed West, Merry was at least 103 and almost certainly older when he died, and Pippin at least 95. The uncertainty is because Tolkien describes their last years thus in the Appendices:

1484 In the spring of the year a message came from Rohan to Buckland that King Éomer wished to see Master Holdwine once again. Meriadoc was then old (102) but still hale. He took counsel with his friend the Thain [Pippin], and soon after they handed over their goods and offices to their sons and rode away over the Sam Ford, and they were not seen again in the Shire. It was heard after that Master Meriadoc came to Edoras and was with King Éomer before he died in that autumn. Then he and Thain Peregrin went to Gondor and passed what short years were left to them in that realm, until they died and were laid in Rath Dínen among the great of Gondor. 1541 In this year on March 1st came at last the Passing of King Elessar. It is said that the beds of Meriadoc and Peregrin were set beside the bed of the great king. Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf. And when that ship passed an end was come in the Middle-earth of the Fellowship of the Ring.

[jnnul]

falling in love at first sight (x3)

a/n: so i woke up in cold sweat and i had to write this. there's like 30k i could've written about this but tbh, i needed to get this out lol. also taesan has been living in my head rent free so this is his eviction notice. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 6.3k

tags: college au!, basketballplayer!taesan x nurse!y/n, honestly it's just a fluff piece, idiots in love, dongmin is DOWN BAD and falls in love with the same girl 3 times, uhh y/n is a feisty nurse warnings: taesan is called dongmin, uhh alcohol + memory loss involved with getting shitfaced lol

HAN DONGMIN DIDN'T REALLY BELIEVE IN SUPERSTITIONS. to him, things like 'knocking on wood' or 'not opening an umbrella inside' were just old wives' tales that didn't have much substance to them.

but after dongmin had shattered his bedroom mirror this morning (he'd accidentally launched his alarm clock across the room after sleeping too late last night), nearly every single thing in his life had gone wrong.

he'd put expired milk in his cereal because kim donghyun (his roommate) hadn't switched out the milk like he'd promised to the day before. then he went to take a shower, only to be burned by scalding hot water since the landlord refused to change the heating system, even though they'd been suffering through the sticky heat of august for fifteen days already. as if all of that wasn't enough, he'd accidentally torn his favorite hoodie trying to clean up the fragments that'd fallen on the floor. and when he was trying to salvage his hoodie, he scraped his forearm against the fragments, meaning he had a nasty gash along the long side of it.

which meant he'd have to go to the hospital to take care of this stupid bloody mess instead of going to class.

that was how han dongmin found himself sitting in the waiting room of the urgent care center of the hospital, a shoddy rag wrapped around his forearm, his essentials hoodie covered in blood, expired milk, and mirror dust.

needless to say, dongmin had gotten more than a few strange looks from the other people in the waiting room in the last four minutes he'd been there.

"han dongmin!" the receptionist calls out, and dongmin launches himself out of his chair, impatient to get this over with as soon as possible.

something about hospitals just gave dongmin the heebie jeebies. the fluorescent lighting, the smell of rubbing alcohol, the tangible feeling of sickness that wafted through the air.

ugh. dongmin hated hospitals. in fact, he was so sure that he would never even step foot in a hospital after this. if he needed to wrap himself in bubble wrap to do so, then so be it because he hated hospitals and he would never come ba -

dongmin stops dead in his tracks, right next to the recovery bed that the receptionist had led him to. standing in front of him was the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen in his life.

you were smiling at something the patient in front of you was saying, leaning over to bandage the patient's scrape with a little bandaid that had cartoon ryans all over it.

fuck that.

dongmin was ready to break his leg if it meant that he got to stay in the hospital and stare at your beautiful face all day. before he could find something big and heavy to knock his leg into, however, you make your way over to dongmin, clipboard and first aid kit in hand.

"hello," you say with a soft smile. "my name is y/n l/n and i'll be taking care of you today. is there anything i can help you with?"

"will you go out with me?" the words escape dongmin's mouth before he can even process what he's saying and you immediately lean backwards, a disproving wrinkle between your eyebrows.

"excuse me?" you say, and it's clear that dongmin's not gonna be in your good graces if he hits on you. he really hoped you were like this with everyone and not that you just found him super unattractive or anything (donghyun swore up and down that dongmin was not ugly - especially now that he'd dyed his hair! but donghyun also never had to chase after a girl in his life so...). or worse, if you already had a boyfriend.

but before he can ruminate about your affronted stance too deeply, dongmin rushes to fix his mistake. "i mean, hospitals really freak me out. the ethanol smell and the lighting and everything kinda gets in my head, you know what i mean? do you think you could just slap some gauze on outside?"

the tension in your shoulders immediately relaxes and you take a step forward once more, setting the first aid kit down next to dongmin.

"oh yeah, that makes sense," you say, sounding relieved. "unfortunately, i can only provide care while inside the hospital to make sure that the instruments and gauze are sterile to prevent any contamination. i promise i'll be as quick as possible so i can get you out of here!" you explain, a slight pout tugging your lips down in the most adorable way as you seem genuinely sorry for dongmin.

it was official: han dongmin was in love.

"no, don't worry. take your time. i mean, the cut is pretty bad and i don't wanna leave any mirror guts in it," dongmin says. as quick as possible, my ass, he thinks to himself. i gotta find a way to make this last for as long as i can.

"of course!" you assure, before looking down at the clipboard. "so i assume you cut yourself on a broken mirror? does it hurt when you apply pressure?"

what was the answer that would keep you here longer?

"yes?"

"are you asking me or telling me?"

"telling?"

"very convincing. i'm gonna need to apply pressure and confirm for myself then, if that's alright with you?" you look at him in a way that seems to be somewhat apprehensive and dongmin has never wanted to reverse time more than in this very instant.

until he doesn't because your hands are on his forearm, examining the wound gently and applying pressure around the open gash.

"does it hurt when i do this?" you ask, eyes trained on the way that his forearm muscles ripple and move as you apply pressure in different places.

dongmin's not the most buff guy on the planet, and you checking out his muscles was definitely not for your own pleasure, but at least all of his time on the court and in the gym has paid off in some way.

"uh...no. not unless you're super close to the cut," dongmin says and you nod with a gentle smile. it's in that moment that dongmin decides that he would kill anyone and anything just to see you smile like that again,

"that's good to hear. well, i guess that all we need to do is 'slap some gauze on' after disinfecting the wound and making sure we don't have any 'mirror guts' in it," you say, a hint of cheekiness in your tone. dongmin doesn't know what it is about it but it makes him blush, regardless.

"yeah. that sounds good," he says dreamily, trying hard to compose himself once more when you flash him a questioning look.

you work carefully on his arm, making sure to give a tiny little stress ball to dongmin to use when you descend upon his wound with some antibacterial medicine and rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball.

"so, uh, you look pretty young for a doctor...?" dongmin says, trying very hard to focus his attention on you instead of the stinging pain that came with every touch of the cotton ball on his wound. the more he looked at you, the more he began to wonder if he'd seen you somewhere before.

dongmin wasn't the superstitious type, and didn't exactly believe in 'love at first sight', but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't place you anywhere in his memory.

"that might be because 'm not a doctor," you say somewhat distractedly. "i'm a nursing student."

"oh. oh! you're a nursing student?" he asks. student. that means that you were either his age or just a few years older than him. and it also probably meant that you were a student at a university near by - maybe his?

"yep. a second year. although, don't worry, i've completed all of my first aid clinicals last year itself," you explain, leaning back in satisfaction when you finish cleaning up the wound.

"my school has a pretty famous nursing program, you know. maybe you've heard of yonsei's nursing program?" dongmin asks, eyes shining with hope.

it's only then that you look up at dongmin with an excited look in your eyes, turning to throw away the used cotton balls.

"i go to yonsei as well! i'm just starting my second year. it's a little strange because the nursing program runs through the summer, which is why i'm working clinicals right now. i'm almost done though, so i'll be switching into a field i'm more interested in," you say and dongmin swears he hears wedding bells in his mind. beautiful, kind, intelligent, and the same age as him? it was like god was basically handing his soulmate to him on a platter. maybe love at first sight was real after all.

"me too! well, i'm not a nursing major, but i'm a second year electrical engineering major," dongmin says, watching you turn back towards him with a clipboard.

"mhm, well, i've gotta tell you to be careful for the next week or so. no heavy lifting, sports, and definitely no cutting things. we don't want to make the wound worse, now do we?" you say chidingly, scribbling instructions on the clipboard of how to clean the wound with rubbing alcohol and how many pills of ibuprofen to take per day.

"of course," dongmin says half-heartedly. as much as dongmin hated the feeling of pain, the was the only way that he could think of to get to see you again was to somehow hurt himself again.

"how about you come back in a week to just make sure that it closed up well? make sure it didn't get infected or anything?" you ask, handing him the sheet of paper.

god was real.

dongmin swore he was going to go to church and donate at least 10,000 won for the blessing after blessing he was receiving today.

"oh sure," he says, a mischievous thought popping into his head. "but is it ok if i find you on campus? i have a lot of labs over the next week and i can't miss them if i can't even participate in them, so i can at least get the information. i won't really have time to stop by the hospital," dongmin says carefully, watching your expression to ensure that it wasn't changing with every word that escaped your lips.

technically, it wasn't a lie. dongmin did have a lot of labs next week but that's definitely not why he wouldn't have time to stop by the hospital.

"i don't see why not. i don't need any sterile instruments to just check quickly, so that shouldn't be an issue," you say slowly, nodding to yourself as you look around the little station to make sure you wouldn't need any of the equipment.

"perfect," dongmin says, shuffling out of the bed that he was sitting in to leave before turning around nonchalantly. "do you think i could get your number? so i know where to find you?"

you look up at him, and dongmin tries his best to seem sincere and genuine rather than as calculating as he felt, trying every tactic possible to see you again.

"yeah. yeah, here let me type it into your phone."

he hands his phone over to you, and it takes every single fiber of his being to keep himself from looking excited about any part of this transaction. you were already suspicious enough of him; you definitely didn't need more reasons to add to the list.

you're frowning slightly when you hand the phone back to him so dongmin pockets it without a second thought, to prove that he wasn't trying to be weird.

"thank you so much again." dongmin waves as he leaves, flashing the award-winning smile that he usually reserves for aunties and restaurant owners for free sides. oh, and for his fans.

you don't blush and trip over yourself when he does like his fans do - although you offer him a soft smile in return.

although, dongmin muses, i guess it would be weird if a nurse who met me for the first time would be anything like a college basketball star's fan though. maybe.

he shakes his head, opening the door to the hospital, looking down at his arm wrapped in gauze. yeah. there was no way that dongmin was taking a break from basketball. season started in less than three weeks and as yonsei's point guard, he had no choice but to just power through the injury.

it might work out in his favor after all. at least it would give him more chances to see you.

+++

turns out, the universe gives him a chance less than two days after he sees you for the first time. and in any other case, dongmin would be incredibly excited to see you again. he'd probably be ready, waiting with freshly showered hair and clean clothes and nice smelling cologne.

instead, when he sees you again, he's wearing raggedy shorts, a stained shirt, and holding a basketball that he definitely should not be holding.

dongmin knew he was fucked the moment you walked in through the double doors that opened up to the indoor basketball court of yonsei, light spilling in from the outdoors, along with the chatter and excitement of students returning to university.

you walk in wearing white, along with six other people dressed similarly, the basketball team's physician (dr. moon taeil) at the head of them all. dongmin hopes that you don't recognize him - or at least don't see him actively playing but of course, you manage to turn your head to see dongmin throw the ball out of his hands in a random direction in panic.

the ball, then of course, managed to fall neatly through the hoop, as though dongmin had intentionally thrown it there, causing him to want to die on the spot.

so he couldn't do that during a game with korea university, but now that he was doing everything in his power to keep you from seeing him play basketball, now he manages to throw it in the one place it shouldn't go.

your eyes narrow when dongmin turns to face you, your gaze falling to his (poorly) wrapped forearm. he offers you a trembling grin, which slowly turns into a frown when you look away, shaking your head as you start talking to the girl next to you.

at least you wouldn't say anything to coach about how he wasn't supposed to be playing right now, dongmin thinks to himself. even if i've effectively ruined my chances of her ever believing me about anything ever again. uh. not that i've had more than one conversation with her. or might have more in the future.

dongmin shivers, jogging over to where the basketball had fallen to pick it up and return to his place at the three-point line and continue shooting practice.

he returns to where he's supposed to be practicing, so that his back is facing the group of people who'd entered - namely, you.

"i forgot coach mentioned that we've got new on-site medical staff," dongmin mutters to himself, dribbling the ball before lining up his shot. "i didn't know that she'd be a part of that though - she can't be the sporty type if she didn't recognize me from the hospital."

dongmin is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even feel the dark presence looming over him until the ball is released from his hand.

"HAN DONGMIN!" someone yells, right next to his ear, and dongmin scrambles to attention, wincing when the basketball bounces off the rim and into the cart of basketballs he was practicing with with a resounding clang!

he turns slowly, eyes closed, as if that would make you go away.

"i cannot believe that i bandaged you up so carefully just for you to start playing again! how could you be so careless? do you not want to be able to play during the season? you're yonsei's ace and you're being this irresponsible!" you're heaving by the end of your rant and dongmin blinks, trying to come up with a response.

you definitely didn't know him well enough to yell at him like this - much less in front of all of his teammates - but for some reason, that's not what stuck out to dongmin.

(much to his chagrin, you being angry was hot. like really hot. especially since he'd thought you'd be the soft and cozy type, not the impulsive and quick to anger type. he really liked this side of you.)

"you know who i am?" he asks slowly.

"OF COURSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! OH, YOU ARE GETTING ON MY NERVES. YOU ASS, I DIDN'T BANDAGE YOU UP THAT NEATLY FOR YOU TO BE WALKING AROUND SHOOTING THREES!"

you're yelling at him, and for some reason, dongmin has never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. he'd never though he'd be this attracted to someone that he's just met yelling at him, much less in front of his entire team and her own entire team. but for some reason, as dongmin looks at you waving your hands all crazy and annoyed, all he can think about it how much he likes you.

it wasn't just physical. of course, he thought you were beautiful - possibly the most beautiful person he'd ever seen in his life and he would die on that hill - but it was more than that. it was as though he'd genuinely fallen in love at first sight.

you could tell him that you were a serial killer and at this point, dongmin would just admire your bloodlust.

"uh. dongmin?" coach jung says behind him, hands crossed over his chest. "do you guys need a moment to step out and come back?"

even coach jung seems a little bit intimidated by your livid state of being and dongmin has to cough to cover up his life.

"no coach. we're done here," you say, turning dramatically on your heel to turn back to your friends. but dongmin moves quicker than even his own mind can process what happens.

before he can think, his hand is wrapped around your wrist, spinning you closer to him, almost as if the two of you were ballroom dancing.

you look up at him, shocked, but dongmin is slow to let go of your wrist, not wanting to lose contact with you.

"no, we need just a moment," dongmin says, his eyes never leaving your own. it's clear that you neither expected this nor were used to this kind of behavior from anyone and before the fight that's building inside of you bubbles out, dongmin tilts his head toward the door that leads to a hallway extending to the equipment room, practically begging you with his eyes.

you aqcuiesce - or at least, dongmin thinks you do - from the way that your shoulder melt just the slightest and you let him pull you into the hallway.

"what?" you snap the second the door shuts behind the two of you. "okay, maybe i didn't let on that i knew you from our encounter, but that's irrelevant. i didn't need to tell you that i knew you. and besides, as your healthcare provider, it would have been extremely irresponsible on my end for me to let slip that i'm a fan - or that i know you personally at all."

dongmin can't help but let a small smile slip. "personally? we know each other personally?"

you fluster in that moment, looking anywhere but at dongmin, bringing a large smile to his face. he'd never thought that the feisty, quick to temper and quick to lose it, loud type was his type but he was starting to enjoy it very much.

"alright, well i know you personally enough, alright?" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "we've met before."

now it's dongmin's turn to look flustered, as he wracks his brain, trying to come up when or where the two of you have met before. he wasn't the one-night-stand type, so that couldn't be it. he also didn't have an insane amount of friends outside of the basketball team and donghyun's friends, so that wasn't it either.

"i'm really sorry - and i'm definitely trying to hit on you, just not right now - but i don't remember. i'd definitely remember someone like you," dongmin says, and he's well aware of the fact that his tone does not sound any level of displeased, and rather dreamy.

you roll your eyes, looking down at the ground. "we kissed once. twice actually. but um. that's not my point."

you clear your throat, as if you hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb of the century on dongmin, shaking your head. "why the hell are you playing basketball on an injured arm anyway? i specifically said no sports!"

dongmin raises an eyebrow. "you say you're my fan and yet you're still asking me why i'm playing when we have our first game in a week. and hold on. i'm not letting go of that first part; we've kissed? twice?"

you shrug, but it's clear that you don't think of it as nonchalantly as you're trying to make it sound when you speak. "yeah. in freshman year. once in spring semester and then once in fall. it's not a big deal. to you at least. clearly you kiss a lot of girls, if you don't even remember us kissing at all."

"now that's not fair," dongmin pouts, but he's well aware that he's not conveying this well at all. suddenly, a flash of a girl wearing a red dress, looking up at him with big eyes and a pouty lips crosses his mind.

good god. were - were you dongmin's mystery girl?

+++

"what do you mean dongmin finally found his mystery girl? the one he's been crushing on for a full year?" myung jaehyun says incredulously, instantly pulling out his phone to look you up on instagram.

dongmin sits in the middle of his friends, all sitting at the same table as they were supposed to be eating lunch, his head resting in his hands.

"you mean the one that he swore was the love of his life? god, he wouldn't shut up about that for at least six months," lee sanghyuk says, shoveling noodles in his mouth.

"try a year," donghyun groans, rubbing his forehead in pain. "do you remember the state of this kid when he woke up the next day?"

"good god, it was horrible. all he could say for a full week was that he wanted to jump out of the window because he'd lost her number and that he was never going to find true love because he couldn't remember her name, number, or even what she looked like," sanghyuck adds.

park sungho, the newest addition to their friend group, blinks, looking at dongmin, who's head is still in his hands.

"you were down bad, man," he muses and jaehyun on the side of him snorts.

"down bad doesn't even begin to describe it. it got to the point where we had 'girl in the red dress' and 'true love' jars because he would talk about her." jaehyun sighed, looking at dongmin pointedly. "he'd put enough money that we'd bought alc for the rest of freshman year. just in spring semester."

"that's what you get for trying to prove that you could drink a 4lokos without getting shitfaced," donghyun says, nose crinkling as he recalled the hours he had to spend making sure that dongmin wasn't going to die by choking on his own spit. "and he went and did it twice. it took us months to get to the point where we could invite this guy anywhere so as long as he swore not to bring her up again."

dongmin looks up, almost excitedly. "do you think that if i drink another 4lokos, we'll kiss at another party?"

sungho leans over, smacking him upside the head. "you're so fucking dumb. and i can tell just by these stories. you're not allowed to drink until season's over, idiot. and she's on your medical team. why don't you start by making a good impression while you're not so drunk you're going to start insisting that spongebob is hydrophobic."

("you were there when that happened?")

("you idiot, you thought i was spongebob. you kept throwing my drinks away because you thought i was going to disappear into them if i drank them. which makes no sense because that's not what hydrophobic means.")

("oh. sorry man.")

"yeah. just go to the med clinic tomorrow, apologize to her, and bring her flowers or something. women eat that shit up!" sanghyuk says with a mouthful of noodles and jaehyun nods, pointing his chopsticks at him excitedly.

"they do! my girlfriend always feels better with food and flowers," he says, cheeks stuffed to the brim with carbonara.

dongmin's mind races with all of the implications of doing so, but every single one of his thoughts fade away in light of the fact that he could redeem himself in your eyes. he slams his hands down on the table, swinging his legs over the bench to run to the nearest flower shop.

"i'll be back before practice!" dongmin calls out over his shoulder, waving a quick goodbye as he sprints towards the florists.

he makes it to the edge of the courtyard before he hears the yelling of his friends behind him, turning to see them waving at him (and waving some very rude fingers at him).

"YOU FORGOT YOUR WALLET, YOU IDIOT!"

+++

dongmin's friends were useless. absolutely useless.

he'd went and bought the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find, a nice meal from his favorite bento place, and had even bought three different types of ice cream bars because he didn't know which one you'd like.

he'd walked right into the medical clinic office, his apology gifts all in hand, ready to apologize to you, redeem his honor, and become your own true love.

the last part probably wasn't going to work anyway, but the first two should've been foolproof.

instead, he manages to prove that he was a fool.

as it turns out, he wasn't the only person who thought that the flowers were beautiful; dongmin had managed to bring the queen bee as a secret surprise in the bouquet, which meant that the rest of her hive was NOT very happy that he'd committed royal kidnap, as far as the bees were concerned.

"HAN DONGMIN WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" you yell from underneath your desk, where you were hiding from the sudden swarm of bees that had followed dongmin in.

he doesn't respond, too busy opening the window to drop the flowers out of, hesitating when he sees the number of people that were lounging around the courtyard that the medical office looked out of.

dongmin lines up the bouquet, sending a prayer to god (any one that would listen) as he shoots the best three he's ever shot in his life, so that the bouquet (and all of the bees that accompanied it) landed far away enough from people to prevent them from getting hurt.

of course, a few brave souls had stayed behind to exact revenge for their queen on dongmin, resulting in upwards of five bee stings, before dongmin finally evaded the great medical bee disaster once and for all.

he turns sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"i don't suppose i could find medical care in this clinic, could i?" he says, and he's well aware of the fact that he's flushed bright red, as he always seems to when he's made a fool of himself.

thankfully, there are only four or five people, including you, in the office to witness this disaster - although, dongmin can see the girl you were talking to yesterday surpressing a smile.

"yeah, of course you could. but we're all headed on break so unfortunately, y/n is the only person who's gonna be able to give you medical care. you know, since you've already brought lunch for her," your friend says with a knowing grin. she ushers the rest of the medical staff out of the office, closing the door behind her with a telltale click.

"you can come out from under the desk now," dongmin says, and despite the situation, he finds it adorable that in the case of a bee swarm, your first instinct had been to hide underneath a desk.

"i was going to," you grumble, slinking out from your hiding spot and dusting off invisible dust from your pants. "what were you thinking, bringing flowers with bees in them?"

dongmin blushes, tilting his head as he tries to look anywhere but where you were. "i wanted to apologize to you. in my defense, i kinda always thought bees were made up. i mean, they're so fat! there's no way they should be able to fly. that directly violates like every law of aviation in the world."

your eyebrow quirks upward as you look at the ice cream and lunch he had set down on your desk in his bee-induced panic. "i can't believe you're quoting the bee movie at me right now."

"i can't believe you know i'm quoting the bee movie. i should've known the love of my life was an internet connoiseur," dongmin says with a sigh, examining the bee stings on his arm. how did these bees even manage to crawl underneath the sleeves of his shirt?

"excuse me?" you bark, hands on your hips. "did you just call me the love of your life? when you couldn't even remember who i was like yesterday?"

"okay, wait. you don't understand. first, i need you to help me out by getting some ointment on these stings because they're starting to burn and i don't know if that's so normal. and then, i'll explain everything, trust me."

you reluctantly reach back into a cabinet that reads 'insect stings' and grab the kit for bee stings, pulling a cream out of it, beckoning dongmin to come closer so that you could treat it.

"do you remember what happened that night? or those two nights, i guess?" you ask softly, eyes trained on dongmin's arm so that you don't have to look him in the eyes and he nods.

"i remember. well, as much as i can, anyway. i was blackout drunk both times. and from what i remember, you weren't exactly sober either, so i don't know how you remember me but trust me, whatever you think about me is not true. i was - i was so down bad that my friends had to make a 'no y/n' jar!" dongmin yelps the last part when your hand on his arm presses a little too hard.

"i'm sorry! sorry!" you gasp, immediately leaning over to blow cool air on the place you'd accidentally put too much pressure. "what do you mean by a no 'no y/n' jar though? i thought you didn't remember my name."

"i didn't! and it killed me! i don't remember exactly what happened those nights but i remember how much i liked you. i remember thinking that i'd never meet a girl like you in my life. it still frustrates me that i lost your number - although, i do remember the part where you smacked me over the head the second time that we met. i think i suffered permanent brain damage from that.

"but i remember glimpses of that night. like that red dress you were wearing and how much you were rambling about stars. you were giving me an in-depth explanation about how black holes work and something about how rockets look like they're stuck in time in black holes. not the point. but the point is that i genuinely fell in love with you that first night we met.

"i've got this horrid habit though, when i get drunk - i become either super scared of water, or super infatuated with it. it's honestly a coin-toss. so imagine my feeling the next morning when i wake up with a dissolved piece of paper in my pocket that's supposed to have your number on it, semi-wet clothes, and a raging migraine.

"i thought i met the love of my life and i couldn't even remember her name, number, or even her face. it drove me and my friends absolutely nuts. me because i didn't know how to find you when i couldn't remember anything. my friends went insane because i would talk about you so much that they bought me those swear jars for every time i mentioned you.

"of course, i didn't know your name so you were just 'the love of my life' or 'girl in the red dress' but i think i dumped at least 300,000 won in those jars by the end of the semester. and then as if the universe was out to make my life living hell, we met again and i was shitfaced again. i swore to never touch a 4lokos after that, if that's any level of redemption.

"anyway. i brought you flowers and all this stuff because i wanted to tell you that - that i've liked you for a lot longer than even i've known! i remember most of the conversations that we had, even if i couldn't remember exactly who you were. when i saw you at the hospital, i genuinely thought i was falling in love at first sight. but i guess, that's kinda not true. cause that would be my third time falling in love at first sight."

"why, though? three times? i mean, i don't think i'm ugly or anything but three times? yeah, i mean i guess i kinda also had a thing for you after those two nights. god. i wish i remembered what we talked about for us to get this attached," you say, mumbling the last part. dongmin turns to you somewhat confused, watching you as you open up the bento box he'd bought you.

"you don't remember what we talked about? besides the black holes and stuff?"

"nope. but i've also got a horrible reputation amongst my friends for how much i talked about you. the worst part is that i remembered you but not what we talked about. it was so stupid because no one believed me that han dongmin, yonsei's point guard was the guy i'd had my heart for the past year." you instinctively smile the moment you take a bite of the food and even though it's so small, dongmin's heart swells with pride.

"why didn't you ever come up to me? i mean, this whole year of pining could've been avoided if you'd talked to me," dongmin says, accepting the ice cream bar you handed him. how the hell did you know that was his favorite ice cream?

"i gave you my number once, and i kissed you twice. i figured you were just ghosting me at some point if you weren't going to reach out to me. and besides, nursing really picked up right after basketball season so...i kinda just ended up torturing my friends for the past year," you say, somewhat sheepishly, but dongmin is barely even listening anymore.

after all, how many people can say that they fell in love at first sight with the same person three times?

"well. we're here now. will you go out with me? i promise i won't even touch a 4lokos!"

"deal. as long as you promise to tell me everything we talked about that night. i still can't tell why i fell so hard for you that i chased you down a basketball court in front of your whole team."

"my stellar looks? my killer smile? my stupidly handsome personality? my superb basketball skills?"

"try your stupid attraction to water molecules."

"i have a feeling i shouldn't have told you about that."

+++

freshman year, spring semester.

"really? you've never fallen in love before?" you ask incredulously. you and dongmin are sitting on the balcony of some random friend who decided to throw a party, feet dangling over the edges in between the bars.

"nah. i don't think so," dongmin says, leaning backwards on his palms. "i don't think i've ever met someone who's ever made me feel like my entire heart is their's to do whatever they want to do with."

"then let's play this game," you say, clumsily pulling out your phone. "that one thing on new york times, where you fall in love with someone within 36 questions."

"why? you want me to fall in love with you?" dongmin says, leaning over with a cheeky smile. you push him playfully, focused on trying to pull up the questions list.

"you'd do that whether i told you to or not," you fire back. "and besides, i think i'm a fantastic kisser. so you're probably already in love."

"you're right," dongmin says with a sigh. "i think i am."

freshman year, fall semester.

"question 36. i can't believe we never finished all the questions last time," you say. this time the two of you are sitting so close, dongmin can still taste the watermelon chapstick you're wearing. at this point though, dongmin might as well be the one wearing it.

"to be fair, last time i think we were otherwise preoccupied."

"get your mind out of the gutter!"

"i was talking about how many times you kept getting distracted by the dog."

"anyway. we're on question 36; are you in love with me yet?"

"i should be asking you that. i've been in love."

"han dongmin! i thought you weren't the superstitious type?"

"i'll be whatever you want me to be."

[avis-writeshq]

05 — enchanted

summary: “please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, no use of (Y/N) warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk lmfao), jealousy, slight miscommunication, austin (aka: bartender girl from s4), special mention to special people wc: 4.9k a/n: everyone say thank you @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH ilyvm zara <33 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Although you haven’t been a part of the BAU for more than one year, it didn’t stop you from maintaining the connections that you had in all your years of working there. Sure, the scheduling times could be better, but that didn’t stop the team from spending their rare day off to spend time with you. After all, the adjustment of seeing you every day to once in a blue moon was a difficult one to make. 

O’Keefe’s has been the main victim of the team’s shenanigans, its doors open for the seven members of law enforcement, all eager to get their hands on some well earned rest and relaxation. Drinks are passed around the booth and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Derek get his ‘groove thang on’ with a few girls in the bar. Today is one of the rare occasions when the team didn’t have a case, an even rarer day when the team didn’t have to take on any new or incoming cases. 

“How’s life treating you?” Emily asks cheerfully, sipping at her strawberry daiquiri. You gather that tonight is one of those nights.

You smile, sipping at your own beverage of choice. “Good! Way less stressful than working at the BAU, that’s for sure. And the hours are good, too.”

JJ snorts from beside you. “Yeah, well, can’t say I’m not jealous. How’re the kids?”

“I can’t say much because of confidentiality and all that, but they’re doing well. A lot better, thank goodness but it just goes to show the aftermath of the things that you guys deal with. I mean, I still think about all the victims we’ve helped and it sucks that we can’t do anything to help them further.” You finish your tangent with a long sip of your drink before leaning back against the booth. “Anyway, how are you guys?”

Penelope comes shuffling past carrying a series of cocktails, her absolutely monstrous platform heels not aiding her in her slightly tipsy task. “Do not even get me started on work. No work! None! We’re having a fun day. Ergo, no work talk.”

You laugh in response, moving to the side to allow her room to sit in the booth. “No, Penny, you’re right. No work talk.”

The drinks are dispersed and your gaze shifts to where Spencer is standing, laughing awkwardly as he tries to follow along to Derek’s dancing and socialising. He looks incredibly out of place in his brown argyle sweater vest, navy tie and freshly pressed slacks, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt. 

“Nah, Spencer could definitely be a ladies’ man if he plays his cards right. And I mean that literally,” Emily says, bringing you out of your daydream.

Your head snaps in her direction, trying to calm your facial features and microexpressions. Regardless of your attempts, after a year of not practising, you don’t do as well as you hope. “What?”

JJ grins at you, her eyes lighting up knowingly. “We’re just talking about who’s the biggest hotshot in the BAU.”

“Wouldn’t that be David?” You ask meekly, your finger swirling along the edge of your glass. You had met David Rossi on occasion, once by accident when you were having a night out with the girls and the other during a proper introduction two weeks later. “Didn’t he have, like, five wives?”

“I had three thank you very much,” Rossi intervenes swiftly, holding his glass of whisky on ice. 

“Sorry, my bad,” you respond jokingly, snickering as he shakes his head and stalks over to where Hotch is sitting and drinking his rum. 

Penelope lets out a loud laugh. “I think we’re forgetting the obvious: our very own Chocolate Thunder.”

“Well, fine,” Emily drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “but Spencer has that innocent vibe to him, y’know? The kind of guy women go crazy over.”

JJ clicks her fingers in remembrance. “Didn’t a bunch of prostitutes try to pick him up in that one case?”

“What?” You ask again, albeit a little shrilly as you try to dismiss the surprise in your tone. 

“He didn’t take them,” Emily says quickly in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “But he did pick up a girl a few months ago. Austin?”

Penelope nods at that, putting down her cup. “Oooh, yes! I remember her. He showed me a picture. She’s pretty.”

“I mean, he did pick up Lila too.” JJ reminds the team, shooting you a sly smile. “You remember her, don’t you?”

You force out a laugh and bite the inside of your cheek in the process. “Yeah. Who’s Austin?”

“I think I still have a picture!” Penelope says, brandishing her phone from her coat pocket. She types something in before sliding it in your direction. “Pretty, right?”

Austin is certainly pretty, even in the uncoordinated selfie Penelope shows you of her and Spencer. He’s slightly out of frame, his lips set into a sweet smile while Austin practically glows. Her brilliant green eyes flash in the camera and her dark hair frames her face perfectly. She and Spencer are close in the photo, with him holding the phone clumsily and she has a hand on his arm. 

“Uh huh,” you murmur distractedly, averting your gaze from the photo as an ugly feeling creeps into your chest. “Really pretty.”

Emily looks at you curiously. “You didn’t know about her?”

You shrug in response, the smile on your face insincere. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about Spencer.”

The group exchange a couple glances at your tell-tale body language, watching as you scoot past Penelope and out of the booth, making your way to the bar. You’re all too grateful for a reprieve from the teasing as you order another drink and take a seat, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your mind goes through all the interactions you’ve had with Spencer over the years. Were you really that foolish to think that he would feel that way for you? Maybe you were reading too much into it, you try to reason, running your fingers through your once styled hair. Maybe, in some stupid and twisted way, all of Spencer’s interactions were platonic.

You scoff inwardly to yourself. Right. Because picking someone up at two o’clock in the morning is entirely platonic. Sleeping in the same bed as someone because of nightmares is totally normal between friends. In any case, you could have sworn that he–

“Trouble in paradise?” 

An unfamiliar voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and you turn to the man who takes a seat beside you. “Uh… something like that.”

The man hums, a smile on his handsome features. His dark brown hair is fluffy and, in its own charming little way, suits him. He reminds you a lot of Spencer, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles along with the timbre of his voice. He’s also very different to Spencer, especially with his sweater that has a bright orange pumpkin on it, paired with a matching orange scarf. A pair of red tinted sunglasses hang on the neckline of his sweater, and you doubt that it would do much good to block the sun.

“I’m Matthias,” he says good naturedly, beaming. “I’m with my sister, Laura,” he explains, gesturing to a lady sporting dyed auburn coloured hair, and she waves with a matching smile.

You introduce yourself, pointing to the booth. “My friends are over there.”

Matthias nods, undeterred by your company on the other side of the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”

*** 

After what felt like hours of dancing (it was really only fifteen minutes), Spencer and Derek make their way to rejoin the group. The feeling of sweat matting his skin is one of many reasons as to why Spencer hates dancing. That, and the fact that there were far too many people on the dancefloor. What’s worse is the fact that he’s sure that none of them have ever heard of the word ‘deodorant’. He cringes at the thought of all the germs that could be festering on his skin as he sits at the booth, his eyes shifting to wear your bag lays haphazardly on the red cushions. 

“Where is she?” He asks instantly, turning to Emily and placing your bag so that it’s in a safer and less hazardous position.

She hums, pointing in the bar’s direction. “Getting a drink. She’s just cooling off.”

“Cooling off?” Spencer echoes, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean she’s ‘cooling off’?”

Penelope offers an apologetic smile, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. “We… might have told her about Austin?”

“You what?” Spencer can barely believe his ears as he looks at the group incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” JJ says hastily. “We didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“React like what?” Spencer’s voice is strangely stern, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the rest of the team. “I don’t like Austin. She’s nice but I don’t like her.”

Derek’s brows lift in surprise and confusion. “Did you go out with her after the case?”

Spencer’s ears burn in embarrassment and he turns to his friend in offence. “I asked her for help. I don’t like Austin like that. I needed advice.”

“Advice,” Emily repeats, turning in the direction of the bar. “You mean about…?”

Spencer doesn’t stay long enough to head the rest of Emily’s sentence or to answer it, making his way over to you are. Part of him wishes that he stayed put, especially when he sees what you’re doing. In an instant, his nose is scrunched up in distaste as he spies the random stranger chatting you up. His eyes lock with yours and he relishes in the way they light up as you wave him over.

“Hi,” he breathes, standing beside you. 

“Hi!” You gush, beaming at him. “Saw you on the dancefloor.”

“You’ll never see it again,” he says honestly, stealing a sip of your drink. It tastes like vodka and the strawberry lipgloss you use (he only know what it tastes like because of its very on the nose packaging: a giant strawberry. He wishes he knew for other reasons).

You laugh, bright and loud, before you gasp excitedly. “Oh, Spencer, this is Matthias! He��s been keeping me company.” Then, you lean closer to him, your voice a very exaggerated whisper as if the person you’re talking about isn’t in the seat next to you as you tell Spencer, “he’s a director.”

Matthias waves off the statement, chuckling along. “Nothing famous though.”

“He’s a liar,” you tell Spencer enthusiastically. “Did you know he went to New York University? Crazy, right? Like, the school of arts or something. Oh! And he’s also from Vegas! You two are so alike.”

Spencer nods half-heartedly as he tells you, “you know, I went to MIT and CalTech.”

“Well I know that, silly!” You say with a drunken laugh, poking at his cheek. You turn to Matthias with a proud grin before reaching for a shot. “Spencer’s a genius. He’s a super smart genius.”

“That’s what ‘genius’ means, angel,” Spencer reminds gently, prying the little cup away from you. “No more. You’re drunk and we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Your face falls and your lips curl into a frown. “But Spencer I’m thirsty!”

“You have water in your bag,” he prompts, squeezing your shoulder and helping you off the barstool, not paying this Matthias person any mind. “Okay? Let’s go back to the others.”

You nod eagerly, stumbling a little as you wave goodbye. “Bye, Matthias!”

“Uh huh,” Spencer dismisses, leading you back to the table by the small of your back. He leans a little closer to murmur in your ear, “why did you leave the others?”

You shrug dismissively, leaning into his side. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, angel, it does,” he says carefully, “tell me?”

You huff in your own clumsy drunken way. “You should ask Austin. Or go pick someone else up. Emily says you’re turning into a ‘ladies’ man’.”

Spencer resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. “I don’t like Austin,” he tells you in earnest, holding you close to his side as you stumble back to the booth. “I mean it, angel.”

“Bet you call everyone angel,” you grumble under your breath. “Bet you let everyone call you ‘Walter’ too.”

“No,” Spencer says immediately, a hand on your waist. “I only call you that. Besides, why would I let someone call me by my middle name if it isn’t you?”

You huff again, slumping in the booth as Penelope shuffles inward to give you more room. Your arms cross over your chest in annoyance and frustration and  you turn away from Spencer’s direction. He doesn’t need to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed off at him. Somewhere in your hazy drunk mind, you’ve made it out as him being the bad guy.

Spencer shoots the other girls a pointed glare, gesturing at you as if to say ‘This is your fault’ because, in reality, it is. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t be mad at him. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself drunk with some random guy who went to New York University. Spencer mocks Matthias in his head. Stupid Matthias and his stupidly good hair. Spencer runs a hand through his own growing locks, grimacing when he realises that it reaches his shoulders now. Maybe he should get a haircut later.

“Angel,” Spencer tries again, kneeling down next to your chair. “Let’s get you home, alright? Please don’t be mad at me?”

You mutter something incoherent, not bothering to look in his direction.

“I’m not in love with Austin,” he tells you, his tone a mix of firmness and gentleness. “Really, I’m not. We’re just friends, angel, I promise.”

“Liar,” you mutter under your breath as you get out of the booth. JJ guiltily passes you your bag and you take it out of her hands as Spencer grips your arm with one hand, the other on the small of your back. 

“Not a lie,” Spencer says, walking you to his car. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Not after Lila.”

“Lie-la,” you say bitterly as you get into the passenger seat. “Stupid actress.”

He laughs at that, getting behind the wheel. “Yeah, angel. Stupid actress.”

“You kissed her in a pool,” you continue as you fumble drunkenly with the buckle of the seatbelt. “You don’t kiss me in the pool.”

Spencer’s cheeks burn at your words as he puts your seatbelt on, his fingers grazing yours. “It never came up. Besides, I hate pools, you know that.”

“Germ-y,” you respond knowingly, a silly giddy smile on your face. “I know you the best.”

“Exactly,” he hums as starts the car, his words flowing smoothly as he considers how drunk you are. There’s no way you’d remember this, right? “Why would I find another girl when I have you who knows me best?”

Your cheeks glow with pride at his words and you laugh. “Exactly.”

*** 

It’s late. Far too late and you toss and turn in bed. Your eyes are heavy but your brain won’t shut up, swirling with the memories of the previous night. You’re not really sure what happened after you got to the bar, only remembering snippets of the night. The entire time was a blur: you remember getting upset at the girls (or rather, at the information they were feeding you), meeting someone– Mason? Matthew? You can’t even remember– and then downing three shots. It’s awfully stupid of you, yes but then somehow you got home safe and sound with a note on your kitchen counter from Spencer.

You felt a little silly upon the finding of the note. Of course Spencer would take you home; it’s not like the girls were particularly sober by the time you wanted to leave. Regardless, reading the note made you feel incredibly stupid, more stupid than usual, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself six feet underground. 

‘Hi angel,’ it read in Spencer’s messy scrawl with chaotic lettering and swirly g’s. ‘You’re probably really hungover right now so there’s a Tylenol on the counter and a sandwich in the fridge. Please drink water; I’m sure you’re also severely dehydrated from the alcohol. I know you’re upset at me but please just forget about what the others said about Austin. I don’t like her like that. Be safe and call me when you wake up.’

The note was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, just Spencer being his usual ridiculously lovely self. You didn’t mind that he took care of you, either. It’s more-so the fact that you genuinely could barely remember what you said that him. You’re betting on it being something exceedingly dumb (you’re making a habit of it, much to your own chagrin), especially considering how much you had to drink that night. Maybe you should start abstaining from drinking from now on, especially if Spencer was in the vicinity. 

The note is now pinned securely to your cork board, a pretty lavender thumb tack holding it in place. Your gaze drifts to it for a moment then to your clock and you groan into your pillow. This is dumb. Sleep is dumb. Your clock blinks with the numbers ‘02:01’ in red mocking letters and you resist the urge to scream. After blindly searching for your phone, you step out of bed while rubbing your eyes. 

The lingering question keeps you up as you pace back and forth beside you bed. If Spencer doesn’t like Austin, who does he like? It can’t be Lila. You would have known if they kept in contact. Then again, you had no idea who Austin was so who knows what secrets Spencer is keeping? What if there was another girl? What if your entire friendship with Spencer was exactly that– friendship. You slap the palm of your hand to your forehead. Were you really that stupid?

It’s in that moment when your phone begins to ring. The tune plays through the room and you know it all too well; the Doctor Who theme song that you spent a whopping two dollars and thirty-seven cents on to add it as the custom ringtone for Spencer. 

“Hello…?” You answer quietly, your voice choking. “Walter?”

“Angel,” he murmurs, and you can hear shuffling in the background. “Why are you still awake?”

You hum, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I could ask you the same question.”

He laughs quietly on the other side of the line, scratchy from the lack of sleep. “Can I come over?”

“Always.”

He hangs up after that and you press the pads of your fingers into the corners of your eyes again. You’re exhausted, far too exhausted to be hosting guests, but this is Spencer. How can you ever say no to him? So, instead of sulking around and spending far too long doing nothing, you fashion yourself a cup of tea and flick the lights on. The book you were reading is thrown haphazardly onto the cushions of your couch but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up. 

The jiggling of the door handle brings you out of your little mood, and Spencer lets himself in with the key you gave him, locking it securely and taking his shoes off to reveal his sock choice of the day: one bright green and the other in fuchsia with buttercup yellow spots. He’s wearing a crinkly white t-shirt that hangs over his gangly frame and grey sweatpants. For something so basic, he looks absolutely criminal in it. You pinch yourself as punishment for thinking such a thing. 

“Hey,” he breathes, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a little. “Do you think I should get it cut?”

You laugh, almost spilling your tea. “You came to my apartment at two in the morning to ask what I think about your hair?”

“Yes,” he agrees before laughing, “no! Of course not. I just thought of it.”

A hum leaves your lips as you curl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I like long hair on you. Besides, you’d look good in any hair cut.”

Spencer preens at your words, enjoying the feel of your touch in his hair. “You’re a liar. I know what I looked like four years ago. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” You insist, beaming at him as you poke his cheek. “You were really cute back then. Like a baby.”

He flushes again at both the compliment and the contact, his mind committing the way you say ‘baby’ to memory. He thinks it again and again; baby, baby, baby. 

“I was not a baby,” He tells you, half in jest. “I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” you quip, the sleep deprivation making your head go loopy. “Barely. Doesn’t matter, you’re still baby.”

Spencer scoffs lightly, poking your side. “If I’m a baby, what does that make you? A foetus? A zygote?”

You let out a quiet scream in protest, whacking him over the head with a throw pillow. “Ew, Spencer what the hell?”

He snickers in response, shielding his face with his forearm. “If I’m a baby and you’re younger than me, you must be at an earlier stage of development. So? Which is it, are you a foetus or a zygote? C’mon, angel, you passed eighth grade biology.”

“You’re an ass,” you chastise jokingly, rolling your eyes as you look up at him. Sometime amidst the commotion he must have gotten closer to you. Your noses are almost touching and your breath hitches in your throat. 

He smiles sweetly, his own cheeks warm and flushed with embarrassment as he maintains eye contact. “I thought I was ‘baby’.”

What the hell? Is this really Spencer Reid? Silly, awkward, nerdy little Spencer Reid? This must be a very convincing body suit and an even more convincing voice altering machine because this is not Spencer Reid. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks and ears so quickly that it’s enough to make you go dizzy. Maybe you’re a lot more sleep deprived than you thought. 

“Are you drunk?” You croak out meekly as he cages you in, his forearms on either side of your head as he leans you against the couch. 

He laughs– he has the actual audacity to laugh– and he shakes his head. “No, angel, I’m not drunk. You know I don’t drink enough to actually get drunk. Besides, I drove here.”

“You drove here,” you repeat, a little dazed from how close he is. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Almost three now but yes,” Spencer agrees, smiling. 

“You hate driving,” you remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Especially at night.”

He hums in agreement. “I do. But I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

You kick yourself internally. ‘Oh’? Who the hell says ‘Oh’? This is it. Your life is over. Maybe you should move to another state. Change your name, shave your head, and get a different degree because you’re almost certain that it’s the end of the line for you.

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago?” You say it like a question and you suddenly feel yourself sweating. It definitely got hotter in here. 

He murmurs your name, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw gently. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“I ran into you four years ago and almost gave myself a concussion,” you say, averting your gaze as you tried to calm yourself down. 

“I’m so glad I met you,” he repeats softly, his nose brushing against your cheek. “Look at me, angel.”

You wet your bottom lip nervously as you look at him, his hazel eyes a little greener in the low light of your apartment. His legs are on either side of your hips and he brushes his thumb against your chin. 

“I want to kiss you,” Spencer says lowly, albeit a little breathlessly, and you can hear hoarseness in his words. “Can I?”

You’re dead. You’re either dead or asleep, that is the only explanation you have for this entire situation. You’re either dead and in heaven or asleep and dreaming. It is that plain and simple.

“What?” You croak out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs. 

“I know you wanted to do it in a pool but I’m pretty sure your apartment gym is closed now, angel,” Spencer says, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I kiss you?”

The only thing you can manage to do is nod, your eyes flickering to his lips for a split second, watching as the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Your brain barely has any time to comprehend the words he said (since when did you say that you wanted to kiss him in the pool?) because in a rush of confidence, Spencer cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a tantalisingly slow kiss. His eyes are closed and his hands are eerily soft, the gentleness in which he holds you reminiscent of one holding porcelain. 

He pulls away after a moment, his cheeks burning and a smile on his face. You can’t even breathe as you just stare at him, lips parted in surprise. What do you even say to that?

“Thank you?” You manage to stutter out, heat creeping up your neck.

He laughs again, breathless and beautiful, as he kisses the side of your face. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer brushes an eyelash from your cheek, beaming at you as he does. “It’s late,” he tells you, getting up from the couch and freeing your limbs. “You should get some rest.”

“Uh huh,” you respond, your head  spinning. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says back, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m free next Friday. Do you want to go out?”

“Go out?” You echo, “we always go out.”

“I know.” He smiles at you again as he makes his way to the door. “I meant– you know. We can go out.”

A beat passes and your head is awfully slow, whether from the kiss or from the sleep deprivation, you’re not entirely sure. “We can go out.”

“Great.” He pauses, taking a step towards you before kissing your cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“You’ll–” you gape at him again as he opens your door to leave. “You hate texting.”

He nods, slipping on his shoes. “I also hate driving at night. Your point?”

“Right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course I will, angel,” he promises, “get some rest.”

Get some rest? How the hell are you supposed to get some rest after all that? With one last wave, Spencer leaves your apartment, leaving you hoping that this wasn’t just some thing. Maybe this was the very first page of your story– a very embarrassing start to your story. There is one thing for certain though: Spencer is not in love with someone else.

*** 

It’s a Tuesday when Penelope calls you. You had just finished up with a client when your phone begins to ring. 

“Penny!” You gush, unable to stop the smile from stretching onto your face. “I am stupid, I said ‘thank you’? Who the hell says thank you after someone kisses you?”

“Who kissed you?” Penelope asks, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own tangent you would have noticed that she sounded tearful. 

“Spencer did!” You exclaim, slapping a hand to your forehead. “He’s sitting there and he looks amazing and he smells really good and I am stupid.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Penelope says quickly, and you can imagine her waving her fluffy pen around. “He kissed you and you said thank you?”

“Yes.”

“Well that was very polite of you,” she says, trying to sound happy before her voice cracks.

You frown immediately, taking a seat in the wheelie chair in your office. “Penny? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“It’s about Spencer,” she says woefully, sniffling. “He wanted me to tell you something. It’s not looking good, honey, but– but he wanted me to give you a message.”

“Penny–” You stop short when you hear Spencer’s voice. It’s a recording from his phone, and you can only really tell because of the crackling audio on the other side of the line.

“Is it on?” Spencer asks before clearing his throat. He sounds breathless, his words breaking off at some parts and you know that it’s not from the bad audio quality. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter. If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

Through the recording you can hear a shuffle, like the sound of a sliding door being opened, along with a quiet, “Prep the victim for transfer,” before the recording cuts out, leaving you with Penelope on the line. 

She calls your name quietly, choking on her words. “Are you okay?”

You hang up. 

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full masterlist

reblogs are always appreciated!

[abbyzins]

microfic inspired by an interaction with me and my bf today

"Feelin' alright, love?" Soaps hands brushed across broad shoulders, squeezing gently as he kissed Ghost's head, patiently waiting for a response.

He could tell Ghost was...off. Quiet and tight and barely managing to nod as his Gran and Aunt Pat went on and on about making the New Years dinner, and how much they appreciated the two of them coming round for the afternoon.

"Fine Johnny, just excited to be home."

Soap leaned away as the women re-entered the room, more confused by Simon's statement than by the sentiment that he didn't want to see his own family for the holidays.

Home??

What home was Ghost even referring too?

Surely he couldn't mean the flat they shared in London? They hadn't spent enough time in to even make it look like life existed there, not a crumb in the pantry or a tea bag in the whole place.

Was he talking about base? With the cool gray wall, and goldilocks beds, and the shower with the too low head that they hated with a passion, together, because there was a shared understanding that they weren't fighting a war so they could to duck to rinse the shampoo from their hair.

He couldn't be talking about Soap's childhood home. There was no way. Even if they'd been staying for Christmas, it was filled with family, and Ghost hated family.

Sure, he had enjoyed the babying from Soap's mum, because she didn't care if he was a soldier, a scraped knee needs a transformer shaped band aid. And maybe he'd enjoyed the small talk from soap's dad over war movies and news, that turned into comfortable silence over cans of guinnese and a shared pack of cold deli ham and cheddar slices. Maybe he hadn't hated playing rugby with soap's plethora of brothers, nephews and cousins, because there's nothing that represents Christmas more than 23 grown (or almost grown) men tackling each other in the back garden while wives and girlfriends cheer them on.

Ghost couldn't possibly be calling Soap's childhood home, the slightly cramped, pieced together hodgepodge that it was, Home? Could he?

But then he smiles when they walk in the door, and takes off his mask, and limps around as soap's little nieces sit on his feet and hold onto his calves and giggle as he carries them to the den. He sits with soap's sisters, going on about how they met their husbands, and tells them the story of how he and Soap started dating.

Ghost stands out on the back stoop, with the other spouses and partners adopted into the family, and holds up a toast as John MacTavish Sr. gives Simon Riley permission to marry his son.

And Soap could almost cry looking at his family and friends, dancing and drinking late one summer night in the back garden of the house where he'd grown up, surrounding his husband, who begged to have their wedding at home.

Because to Simon Riley - no- Simon MacTavish, this place had been his home since the first time he stepped through the front gate, and saw an entire family of people so willing to love him, all waiting just over the threshold.

[xxsabitoxx]

How the Pillars react to your death

Important note: all of these deaths occur during the infinity castle arc, heavy and implied spoilers. Rengoku’s reaction to your death takes place before Mugen Train! Reader’s gender is unspecified.

Warnings: this post contains spoilers for the final arc of the manga. This includes implied spoilers for various characters. Please do not read this if you don’t want to be spoiled and don’t blame me if you go ahead and read it anyways lol

A/N: I wrote this whole post in my head while showering last night and I’m honestly offended it took me 3x as long to actually write it.

Giyu 

“CAWWW! DEAD! KOCHO SHINOBU AND L/N Y/N ARE DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER A CONFRONTATION WITH UPPER MOON TWO!” Giyu’s body comes to a screeching halt, Tanjiro shooting past him before falling to his knees as violent sobs wracked his body. Giyu, on the other hand, is frozen in place, a sob stuck in his throat. Shinobu’s death was a punch to the gut, but you? For the first time since Sabito had died, Giyu felt tears burning at the back of his eyes. Yet, nothing would come out, those tears wouldn’t break the barrier and slip down his cheeks. His tight throat would not let the sob escape. There was no possible way you were gone, you promised him you’d be okay. Though, childish beliefs like that reminded him of his own faults. Once again, he couldn’t protect the people he cared about. Rather than wallowing in sudden grief, he began moving again, past Tanjiro who was struggling to get back up. He needed to keep moving, if he didn’t stop, he was certain he would collapse entirely and never get up again. He couldn’t let your sacrifice go to waste. 

Shinobu 

Her feet barely hit the ground, body manoeuvring through the endless castle with one destination in mind. “CAWWW! DEAD! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER ENCOUNTERING UPPER MOON TWO!” She stumbles, shock hitting her like a bucket of ice water being dumped over her head. Her mind is racing, not willing to believe what the crow had just said to be true. You had steered away from the plan. In a desperate attempt to save Shinobu’s life you tried to defeat Upper Two yourself. Hot, angry tears are spilling down her cheeks, hand clutching her heart as she tries to understand. “Why would you do this? Why wouldn’t you take my word for it and go with Tomioka? Look what you did… you went and got yourself killed,” Yet again, Upper Two had taken something precious to her. One word flashed through her mind, alongside your beautiful face. Revenge. She would get her revenge, not only for Kanae, but for you. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll be with you soon.” 

Rengoku 

It’s quiet, too quiet even. You should be back by now, the sun has fully risen. Kyojuro’s heart is hammering in his chest, doom creeping up his spine. He has an unshakable bad feeling about your late arrival. His worst fears are confirmed when your crow arrives without you. “No…” breathless, as if all the air is being ripped from his lungs. “Don’t say it…” his knees are giving out as your crow lands on the wooden porch. “T-they’re gone…aren’t they?” he chokes it out, the words are as bitter and burning as bile. Your crow only caws, soft and full of sorrow, unable to share the proper message as Kyojuro begins to sob. He’s curling in on himself, crying so loudly but unable to hear it due to the intensity of the ringing in his ears. It’s a panic attack manifesting in the most intense form. He can’t fathom a world without you, nevermind having to live in one. Senjuro is rushing to his brother's aid, seeing your crow gives him more than enough information to know as tears well in his eyes. 

Tengen

He’s kneeling dutifully outside of Nezuko’s room, Shinjuro by his side. His wives are inside, too stubborn to sit out and not help at all. Their excuse being that Nezuko saved his life, they owe her the same kind of protection now. You on the other hand, were too determined, leaving your retirement to fight the battle against the demon lord himself. Nothing Tengen nor his wives said could convince you to stay on the sidelines. His heart is sinking the moment your crow appears in the distance, he’d recognize it anywhere. “N-no… don’t you dare…” Tengen’s voice is cracking as it lands, Shinjuro is turning his head the other way, knowing what is to come. “Don’t you dare say they are dead…” his voice is rising in his panic, he knows the answer. The commotion has Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru running outside. The moment Hina’s eyes land on your crow, a violent sob escapes her chest, falling to her knees as Makio and Suma come to the same conclusion. “T-they’re dead…aren’t they?!” Makio sobs, Tengen can’t raise his head as your crow delivers your final message. 

Mitsuri 

She’s frozen in place as a crow comes directly for her, fear is ebbing through her body, a cold sweat forming on her brow. She knows the message before the crow can even utter it. “No! Go back! I don’t want to hear it!” Obanai is frozen beside her, grabbing her arm so she doesn’t collapse. The crow circles around her, cawing woefully as she begins to cry. “I-I don’t want to know! Don’t tell me!” she’s hiccupping as Obanai tries to pull her forward, they need to keep moving. “Mitsuri…” his voice is surprisingly soft, the crow is still circling overhead. “We need to hear the message…” she shakes her head, hands coming up to cover her ears as tears slip down her cheeks. The crow caws again, Obanai signals for it to deliver the message. “CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER AN ALTERCATION WITH UPPER MOON ONE!” The crow continued on about who lived and who died, what was important is that upper moon one was dead. That didn’t matter to her though, no she couldn’t even hear the rest of the message over the ringing in her years. Mitsuri let Obanai tug her along, they needed to keep moving at whatever the cost. 

Muichiro 

“CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD!” He keeps running, uncertain as to why he feels a tightness in his chest at the crow’s message. “THEY DIED DURING A CONFLICT WITH UPPER TWO!” He’s still moving, more so concerned over his unexpected and overwhelming sadness. Why am I sad? I don’t even remember that name… but then your kind smile is flashing before his eyes and the world is crashing down around him. He comes to a screeching halt, eyes wide as he finally pieces together the message. “y/n…” how could he ever forget? Before he realizes it, he’s sniffling. Tears blur his vision for a moment before he blinks them away. He begins to move again, the sadness gripping his chest is slowly fading, fading until he can’t even remember why he got teary eyed in the first place. He needs to remember the task at hand… where was he heading again? 

Obanai

The flapping of wings catches him off guard, head craning upwards as the crow begins to caw. The noise is full of sorrow, which can only mean it bears bad news. “Obanai…” Mitsuri is watching the animal circle above them, her heart pounding erratically at the endless possibilities of the message it may share. “CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED IN BATTLE AGAINST UPPER MOON ONE!” Obanai’s feet are slowing, hitting the floor beneath him with a little too much force as the message rings through his head over and over. “N-no… oh… Iguro I…” Mitsuri is crying, staring at the man beside her as the world seems to cave in on him. It’s as if everything is in slow motion for a few beats in time. The words the crow uttered felt foreign, your name paired with ‘dead’ didn’t make any sense in his mind. It was impossible really, there was no way you were dead. You had gone to face Upper One with Gyomei, Sanemi, Muichiro… four hashira against upper One and you didn’t make it? You were so strong… no the message can’t be correct. “Kanroji… let’s keep moving.” he’s turning it off, every swelling emotion is being suppressed as he takes off again. Mitsuri is left with no choice but to wipe her tears and follow. 

Sanemi

Upper Moon One is standing before him, Gyomei at his side. This battle needed to be won, if not, everything would be lost. The demon before him needed to be put down, there was no other option. He’s talking, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen. Rather, Sanemi is gauging every vital point he can strike and how to go about doing it. “CAWW! I BRING A MESSAGE!” he doesn’t glace up, nothing that crow could say would be able to break his focus. “L/N Y/N IS DEAD!” except for that. Sanemi inhales deeply, eyes widening significantly as he debates on if he heard the message correctly. “THEY DIED DURING AN ALTERCATION WITH UPPER MOON TWO! UPPER MOON TWO IS NOW DEAD!” it feels as if all the air in the room had been sucked away with the crow’s flapping wings. Upper One no longer seemed smug about the message after the addition of Upper Two being defeated. Beside him, Gyomei is crying. Sanemi doesn’t realize it, but so is he. He’s oblivious to the hot, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. Still, his patience remains intact, waiting for Gyomei’s signal to attack the high ranked demon. Now, he has absolutely nothing to lose. Kagaya is gone, now you are gone, it is likely the rest of the Hashira wouldn’t make it out of this… he has nothing left to fight for. 

Gyomei “CAWWW! L/N Y/N IS DEAD! THEY DIED AFTER ENCOUNTERING MUZAN!” Tears flow freely as he fights, part of him wishes he hadn’t been able to hear the message in the first place. You had met the unfortunate fate of encountering Muzan himself. It was likely that you were alone, if you weren’t, you were likely the strongest in your group. It pained him, knowing you likely died a brutal death. That pain fueled his attacks, taking every ounce of heartbreak and despair out on the demon before him. You didn’t deserve that, nobody deserved a fate that cruel. He keeps moving, mind reeling yet completely focused. It’s as if he is fighting in a bubble, the world muffled around him yet perfectly clear all at once. Too many emotions are raging through his soul to really pinpoint just one of them. He can only hope you’ll wait for him on the other side, he can only pray you’re watching over him at this very moment. Guiding him, giving him strength. “I’ll meet you again soon, don’t worry. I promise I won’t keep you waiting much longer. Wait for me, please? You will, won’t you?”

[intheheartoftheking]

Painting The Roses Red

Jacaerys Velaryon/Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader

canon divergent, mentions of war/ptsd, a lot! of fluff, yearning, forbidden love, mentions of death and infidelity, dragonrider!reader

summary: HEAVILY INSP by this HC from @enviedear Reader is restless from nightmares of the war and Jace soothes her back to sleep by reading stories of Targaryen History while reminiscing on their past. Jace wonders how their story will fit into the future of Targaryen History.

word count: 1,566

a/n: It started off short because I was inspired by @enviedear 's head cannon (THIS ONE IS FOR YOU BABE) about Jace reading you to sleep with Targaryen History but then it became a whole thing of its own since I crave fluffy Jace and I love forbidden love. I want to write the wedding so pls let me know if a part 2 with memories of their wedding or any other of their war adventures would be interesting.

You threw off your sweat-drenched sheets and found solace in the cold breeze through the window. Your sleep had been restless all through the war, and you thought once it was over, you would finally have some peaceful rest, but the fear had settled into your bones, and you would never be the same again. Tears welled in your eyes as the memories of the past two years replayed in your mind. You didn't even realize that soft sobs had begun to leave your body as you stared out at the sea; however, Jacearys did notice. His coarse hand wrapped around your wrist, startling you out of your trance as he pulled you into his chest. "We're safe, you're safe," he whispered into your hair, rubbing soft circles on your back. This had become a routine for both of you since you found yourselves back at Kings Landing, and both of you constantly had to pull one another out of the distant memories of war. "I know," you murmured, "but that still doesn't change the chill in my bones and the fear in my heart as I watch you die over and over again." you whimpered as he tightened his grip on you. "Jacearys, you almost died. I fished you out of the water and watched you come and go from consciousness. The maesters believed you dead." He sighed. "But I am alive, and our victories will be written in the histories. The greens will only grow to be a stain, but a footnote in the rich Targaryen history." He pulled away from you to grab a large leather-bound book containing the tales of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters wives before settling back on your bed. "Come," he beckoned you over softly, "we shall be the rulers our descendants look upon with admiration and seek guidance from just as we look to our ancestors."

You shook your head, offering him a sad smile as you climbed alongside him, adjusting yourself in his chest. His voice was a lullaby that warded off the fear that threatened to destroy your peace, and with the vibrato that escaped his chest, you could feel yourself being pulled by sleep. Your eyes are heavy as you cling to every word of the stories of Rhaenys and Aegon. As Jace looks down to see you opposing your rest, he aids the sleep process by entwining his hand in your hair, softly running his fingers along your scalp. 

You can feel yourself losing your battle, and Jace knows he's won as he hears your soft snores in his embrace. He looks down at your peaceful face in admiration and sadness. It was rare to find you so calm. It had been years since he had seen you so happy and carefree. 

The war had taken so much from you, your home, your family, and most importantly, it shook your lineage. You were a firstborn daughter, a lady created for more domestic pursuits, the beauty of Highgarden. You weren't fire and blood, or so you thought. However, when the war made you a dragonrider, the garden's secrets became revealed as your mother had to uncover the truth of an affair your great-grandmother had with a Targaryen prince during the rule of King Jaehaerys. The gods were merciful, and this child bore only a tiny resemblance to the Targaryen prince who fathered him, and your grandfather, the heir of House Tyrell, would pass his Targaryen blood to you. Amongst learning to ride dragons and fight for the rightful Queen, you learned the news that your home and your family had been taken and slain. You were now the Lady of Highgarden, thrust into a position you were not born for and fighting to make your place in the world while also trying to preserve whatever you had left of the life before the war. 

Jacearys wasn't supposed to fall in love with you, and you weren't supposed to fall in love with him, but you two were drawn to one another, bound together by some invisible string. He thought that he knew what love was supposed to feel like. After all, he and Baela were affectionate and devoted to one another, but with you, it was different. He felt electric when you accidentally brushed your hands against his while adjusting your riding gear. Or the way that it felt that the air had been sucked out of him when you gazed into his beautiful ember eyes. The way that your laughter filled the room and made his heart sing. Being with you made Jaecarys feel like the world had stopped and only you two were transceding through time.

It was only a short time before Rhaenyra noticed her son became fond of roses and would always request them no matter how difficult the import may be to Dragonstone. She also noticed how their newest dragon rider began to shed the colors of her house in favor of the colors of House Targaryen. It was hard not to notice the late hours you spent with Jace in the library, desperate to learn the language and customs of old Valyria as you both filled the castle with laughter into the hours of the night. You and Jacearys trained together, constantly pushing each other to your limits as you both developed a dance, a routine where your motions almost mirrored the other and your fierce devotion to one another became unmistakable, as when one of you was assigned to a mission, the other was desperate to go along to protect the other. This devotion would make you the woman who saved the heir to the iron throne, Prince Jacearys Targaryen.  

Once you became the Lady of Highgarden, Baela came to Queen Rhaenyra requesting to end the betrothal between herself and Jacearys. "He loves her, Your Grace," she stated, "and I do not believe he will ever stop loving her nor she. As we have witnessed, they would give their lives for one another if necessary. It would not be fair to Jacearys to watch the woman he loves marry another man; he is far too honorable to take her as a lover. Instead, he will be trapped with me, always longing for someone he can't have. Wondering of a future that could have been."

Rhaenyra sighed, knowing all too well what comes from loveless and forced marriages. She knew her son's behavior, and Baela was right. Unlike herself, Jacearys was far too honorable to lie with another woman, but he may never bring himself to love Baela. Instead, the two young rulers would be forced to be yearning gazes at court with Baela caught in the middle of an unspoken desire. Rhaenyra sighed. "I will grant your request." 

Queen Rhaenyra announced the end of the betrothal that same night, causing mixed uproar from the lords and ladies at court. Jacearys looked at his mother and Baela in horror and confusion as one of the lords called out, "Who shall be the bride of the prince now, Your Grace!?" "Shall we all present our daughters?" "I have a girl of marrying age!" Jacearys eyes searched for you and found you staring back at him, hopeful. He felt guilt as he looked back to Baela, who only nodded at him. A small smile crept on her face, and her eyes gestured at you. "Go to her," she mouthed. Jacearys blinked in confusion as his emotions raged inside him, and he felt his body begin walking toward you as his mother tried to quiet the unruly crowd. 

The crowd hushed as they noticed the prince making his way to you, the court, holding their breath as the realization dawned on them. The prince had fallen in love with the most beautiful but thorniest rose in the Highgarden. "My prince," you whispered, "they are watching." 

Jacearys only hummed in response as he lifted your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back. Hushed whispers rang through the crowd. "The Highgarden girl?" "There are rumors that they are a love match, but the Prince was promised to the princess." "She saved the prince's life; I, too, would fall in love with any woman of the sort." Jacearys chuckled as he caught some of the whispers and looked at his mother, who gave him a permissive nod.

"I have decided to marry Lady Tyrell, the Lady of Highgarden, if she will have me." Tears welled in your eyes as Jacearys publicly declared for you. "I will accept your proposal, Prince Jacearys." You nodded, a smile covering your face. Your heart overflowed with your love for Jacearys; you had spent so much time holding back due to duty and scrutiny. He laughed heartily as he kissed your forehead, pulling you in for a hug. "A love match!" someone shouted out, causing the court to erupt in applause and cheers. This union would promise peace amongst Westeros, for the people would know that the dragon prince and his thorny rose would furiously protect each other and their people. 

Jace shook himself from the memories and kissed your head, closing his eyes to breathe you in. "I love you," he whispered before shutting the book and drifting off to sleep. He staved off the nightmares from both of you for just another night and dreamed of what tales they would write for you both. 

[lostintransist]

Tomorrows From Before | Part 2

CW: Mentions of sibilng in rehab, rude pranks, crying from frustration. LMK if something else should be noted.

AO3

“Lynx!”

The shout of your call sign caused you to spin. One of the civilian aides ran after you in her smart heels and slacks. You waited between the buildings, the neatly cared-for grass on either side of the concrete. You didn’t envy the women who worked on base and had to wear business casual clothes. You could get away with fatigues or workout clothes in and around the gym.

“Hi, can I help you?” The neutral tone was one you had perfected for dealing with superior officers and unwanted male attention.

The woman’s high ponytail swayed as she held up a finger and rested one hand on her hip to breathe.

“You walk really fast, did you know that?” She said between breaths.

“I can’t say I’ve noticed, sorry.” You offer a half smile.

“Ivy mentioned you would be interested in hosting a workout session for any of the ladies who would like to attend, is that right?” She straightened, heels pushing her head above yours in your boots.

“Yes, I like hosting classes when I am on base, I get bored of lifting weights and have noticed that even wives and admin staff enjoy a bit of workout from time to time,” you shift your weight to one foot and slide your thumbs into the edge of your pocket.

“I can make that happen. I schedule most of the training and things around here and can schedule a few tentative evenings for a workout. I’m Tana,” she offers her hand for a shake.

“Lynx but you know that,” you shake her hand with a smile, thumb returning to your pocket. “Schedules can be a bit wonky for me because of the task force, but I think a few tentative nights would probably work out best. Would emailing or texting work better?”

“Email for this,” Tana nodded affirmatively.

You rattle off your .gov email address and confirm the spelling when she turns her phone back to you. Parting with a smile and a wave you continue your trek to the conference room with the small table that served as the office for the 141. You had the worst seat, back to the door, because the guys hated you and you had joined last. The refrain in your brain when you sat to work at your laptop was ‘I could ask Price to work from his couch, he would let me.’ You didn’t though. It felt like losing ground to cede the empty chair to them.

The rattle of the fan blowing the damp air around the room muted the sounds of breathing but not the slow peck of fingers on keys. All of them did that, the hunt and peck, though Ghost was the worst. Man stared at his keys instead of his screen.

Letting the front legs drag against the floor you stepped around it to sit. Gaz sat back in his chair arms crossed as he stared at his screen. The report sat empty, cursor flashing as if reminding him it existed. Roach played minesweeper on his. Did computers even come with that installed anymore? Dropping into your chair gravity took a swing at you.

Without even time for a short shout, you wheeze out a breath as you lay on the floor. The back of the chair digs into your spine, metal bends carving away at your flesh. Soap and Ghost stand from the opposite side of the round table to stare down at you from on high as Gaz and Roach share a look before snickering.

Insult is added to injury when Price opens the door directly into your head. The laughter stops, confirming your suspicions.

“Whatcha doing on the floor Lynx?” His mustache twitches as he peers down at you.

“Guess my chair just gave up the ghost Cap. You need something?” You wince as you put more weight on your back, pulling your legs off to one side and roll to kneeling.

“Yes, let’s head to my office,” he holds the door open for you.

Standing you ignore the eight eyes on your back. Let them wonder.

Safely behind the shut door of Price’s office, dimly lit and covered in paperwork, he looks you over.

“It’s started hasn’t it?”

“The hazing? Yeah, I imagine this is the first blow,” you reply as you rub a hand over every sore spot you can reach.

With a sigh that would rattle the dead, John, for he is John behind closed doors, gestures for you to sit.

Glancing at the chair you wince.

“Think I’ll stand John. Thanks though.”

He shrugs as if saying ‘Your choice,’ and pulls out a stack of sticky notes from below one file centered on his desk.

“I got a call from your mother today.”

The chair looked much more inviting now.

Your mother was, in the nicest of terms, a narcissist. She play acted as the role model and the perfect mother, burdened with so many daughters spread across the globe. Most of your sisters talked to her still, you did not. The relationship had never recovered from her confirming that she loved you, she just didn’t like you. Not liking the way her love suffocated you under passive-aggressive comments about weight, or smartness, or lack of makeup, or any number of superfluous or petty things you had found peace with distance. If she was one of the reasons you took the job-based in England with the 141? Well, your mother never needed to know that. She must have gotten in quite a bind to dig out what base you might be on and convince someone to patch her through to your CO. And that said nothing of the time difference.

“Did she say what she was calling about?” You ask carefully.

Not that she wouldn’t break contact for any number of lesser reasons but the gravity by which John’s words fell worried you. Could it be your grandmother or any of your aunts or uncles? It couldn’t be anything with your sisters, most of them would text you the moment they heard something going down. You weren’t close, but the trauma bond of trying to escape the house alive kept you in contact. Well, that and discussing what batshit nonsense your mother got up to.

“She asked that you try and call your sister Sari.” John glanced down at his note, “She said and I quote, ‘She’s trying to leave and you’re the only one who can talk her down.’ Do you know what she means by that?”

His captain’s face is on when he looks back up at you, calculating. This is the face you see when he is thinking physics in form and function if not equations.

Working your jaw back and forth as you swallow down your nausea. Your sister Sari, the oldest of the six of you, turned to drugs to deal with the constant belittling, backbiting, invalidating, and general hatefulness that lived between breaths of your childhood home. Everyone else had cut her off. Your mother still talked to her but of the siblings only you spoke to her on a regular basis. The payments for her expensive in-person treatment to get clean came from your account. Sari couldn’t burn a bridge she couldn’t reach and with you always being scheduled on bases far from home she couldn’t steal, bribe, or threaten you for drug money. This was her fifth time at rehab, and the last you could pay for. The few dollars left in your account after each payment wouldn’t even get you a good beer out here.

“In the simplest terms, my sister is attempting to leave rehab and my mother thinks I can somehow fix it from several hundred miles and a few too many time zones,” you stare at him as you answer.

“Would you like to take some time to handle this matter?” John questions carefully.

The snort is involuntary.

“With what money?” You mumble under your breath.

Before John can pounce on that comment his desk phone rings.

He glances from it to you, face neutral as he lifts the receiver to his face.

“This is John.”

His eyes go distant as he focuses on the call in his ear.

“Patch her through.” He holds out the molded plastic over the desk, “It’s for you.”

Dread settles in the fluid between your cells. Taking the phone gingerly from him you stretch the twisted cord as far as it will reach.

“This is Lynx.”

“Hi, sis.”

Sari, with tears in her voice, reaches across an ocean to caress you with her needs.

“What’s up Sari? I’m working right now.”

“I’m so tired. I want to go home,” her voice breaks on the word home.

Rage should never be the first reaction to pain, especially to others. You also want to go home, somewhere that love lives, but you can’t. Neither can she.

Silence lingers on your end. If you open your mouth now all the vile, hateful, evil thoughts that have slid through your mind will come rocketing out. You’ve completely forgotten your captain is staring at you as he watches you fight back all the training from childhood about how to inflict emotional agony.

“I think I’m gonna leave sis.”

It’s too much.

“Leave then Sari. You’ve never cared enough about anyone to get clean. I won’t pay for another shot at this. Leave now and the next time you get clean will be because you’re in prison or you’re dead. Either way, it won’t be on my dime anymore.” Even poison dripping off your tongue couldn’t feel this vile.

Sari stutters on the other end of the line. You cut her off, “I am nearly dying on a weekly basis to keep you from dying because everyone else gave up on you, even Mom and Dad. If you leave I won’t be stuck in hell for you. Tell the front desk to call me if you walk, I want to see if I can get a refund.” You slam the phone down into the cradle. God bless bureaucrats who refused to update from hard-lined phones.

You stand, feet apart and lungs sucking in air as if you had just escaped an altercation with an enemy.

“Care to tell me what that was about?” Price asked carefully.

“No,” you bite out.

“No?” His brow lifts with the upturn of his question.

“No, sir.”

“That is not what I was asking for. Sit down.”

You sit, hands braced against the armrests as if you could rip them off and use them to fend off his questions.

“Lynx, I need to know if something in your civilian life can compromise you. Now, tell me about your sister and how you ended up paying for her treatment.”

The silence stretched to the point of snapping.

When you open your mouth all that escapes is a sob of frustration.

TFB Masterlist | Masterlist

[1-800fandomqueen]

And I Will Live Forever

Vladislaus Dragulia x fem!reader

Part One

WC : 16.2K

SW : No usage of "Y/N," physical appearance and details are left completely ambiguous and are up to interpretation. Mentions of violence, canon-typical, this fic follows the chronological events of Van Helsing (2004). Everybody lives AU! because I am first and foremost fruity, and want to slum it with Dracula and his wives.

If there are any more warnings to be added let me know!

Story Notes :

For reader's bride dress, I imagine the "Melora White Maxi Dress And Collar" but with a very light blue gradient.

All sentences in this formatting are flashbacks from part one.

This is a re-post, all of my old accounts were deleted.

‘He was truly my dearest friend, albeit a little strange, I owed everything to him.’

You wait on the steps of the Monastery, seeing the horse approach from across the courtyard, your dearest friend, Gabriel - The Great Van Helsing - was returning from France today. He had been sent on a mission to capture and bring back Dr. Jekyll, alive. But word sent the day before his return showed that he would be returning empty handed. You walk down the stairs to greet him as he slows the horse and dismounts, “Gabriel!” arms tossed around his stiff body squeezing until he moves to return the sentiment. After you deem the hug long enough you let go, quirking an eyebrow at him, a slight frown overtakes your features, “You know how much trouble you’re in right?” You’re immediately met with a sigh and an eyeroll, Gabriel beginning to walk away.

“I don’t understand how you managed to mess this up, the Cardinal is extremely angry.” furiously pacing yourself to keep up with his long strides, the brim of his hat pulled low to hide any sort of expression upon his face. “Van Helsing are you even listening to me? The Cardinal is going to throw a-”

''I don’t give a damn what Jinette thinks, I got the job done didn’t I?” his tone unwavering and final, holding the door to the monastery open for you, following after. You decide not to answer as you walk through the glittering hall, making your way down to the confessional, standing in front of it as he enters. 

You waited outside the door, the conversation between Gabriel and Cardinal Jinette fading in and out with the fluctuation of their volume, the Cardinal remaining the loudest. You hated the way that Jinette spoke to him sometimes, Gabriel never failed to provide results, and had done everything in his power to fulfil every deed given to him by the church.  He was good at what he did, that was undeniable, but he was truly a good man at heart. 

He was the only reason you were allowed to stay within Vatican City, having shown up on the Ministry doorsteps only a few years after he did, you however were significantly younger when you did arrive. You’d been abandoned, living in the streets, when a rowdy group of men chased you all the way to the doors of the church. He had immediately come to your aid and ever since then he had somewhat taken on the role of the older sibling you never had, convincing his superiors to allow you to stay within the ancient building. He always had this air of guilt surrounding him whenever interacting with you, claiming that you reminded him of someone he once knew, but never explaining further than that. 

He taught you how to fight, how to defend yourself if the situation ever arose, he made you carry a small vial of holy water and a collapsible stake on your person at all times, telling you that you never know when you may need it. He was your only companion besides a friar named Carl, who was somewhat closer to your age, a madman when it came to inventing. 

Hearing the scrape of the sconce as the Cardinal opens the secret door, you slide into the booth next to Gabriel right before the metal gate slams into place, quietly taking your spot behind your friend as you begin the descent down into the order. You listen as the Cardinal gives the same spiel about being the last defence against evil, zoning out as you watch the monks move about the place. You snap back into focus at the sound of the projector whirring alive, Jinette giving Gabriel his newest assignment. “We need you to go to the east, to the far side of Romania. An accursed land, terrorised by all sorts of nightmarish creatures.” You watch Van Helsing's face go slightly pale as the image changes, an even more grim look taking over the one that usually resides upon his features, “Lorded over by a certain Count Dracula.” 

You slightly zone out once more as you study the painting, you can hear Gabriel speaking but are unaware of what it is he’s saying. You can’t help but feel a strange mixture of happiness and sadness take over your body as you look upon the man - The Count - in the image, you could swear to all that was holy that he looked familiar. Like you’d met him before. 

You’ve decided by what little of him you could see, that he was still undoubtedly handsome. Slightly taller than you, possibly 6-foot, dark hair, and shockingly blue eyes. 

You don’t notice the looks Gabriel throws your way, the realisation hitting him that you're lost at the sight of the photo. 

When the Cardinal changes the image projected, you rejoin the conversation, looking up to lock eyes with your friend, giving him a wary smile as you fight off the sudden emotional pit forming in your stomach. Listening as Jinette lists off members of this royal family, watching as Gabriel becomes starstruck at the sight of Princess Anna, giving him a smirk and a hard elbow to the ribs, him responding with a slight stomp onto your foot. 

You stop listening again when the insignia of his ring is mentioned, the pit returning to your stomach as you walk away to find Carl. You find the aforementioned man yelling at someone in a pedalling machine, gasping slightly as the person on said machine is electrocuted. “Carl what are you doing?” you’re met with a few mumbles of “Almost had it,” and “Maybe next time,” as Carl shuffles towards you, giving you a small pat on the arm and a crooked smile. He turns his attention to Gabriel as he approaches, automatically beginning his line of chastising and questioning. You follow as Carl begins putting things into a bag for him, Garlic, Holy Water, amongst some weapons. After he causes a viscous fluid to erupt into sparks upon the ground, you giggle as he turns with his inventors' goggles down, magnifying his eyes to a ridiculous level. He gives you a sour look, “the air is thick with envy” he says, rolling his eyes and walking away as you continue to giggle. 

He shuffles around to grab more weapons, going on about some substances that can emit light equivalent to the sun, telling Gabriel to use his imagination with it. “No Carl, I’m gonna use yours that’s why you’re coming with me.” “Oh hell be damned I am!” letting out a dramatic gasp as you clutch your chest, “Carl! You Cursed! Monks aren’t supposed to curse.” You watch as a smug grin takes over his face, leaning in close to you as if to tell a secret, “Well actually I’m still a friar, I can curse all I want. Damn it!” giving you a wink as he shuffles back to his original spot. 

“The Cardinal has ordered you to keep me alive as long as possible.” he continues, about to walk away before you grab his sleeve, “Wait, what about me? I want to come along as well.” You’re met with a stern look, the both of you completely ignoring Carl's mumbles about not being a field man as you follow Gabriel out of the Laboratory, “No, that’s entirely out of the question.” “Why not? I want to come to Transylvania, I’m always left behind when you go on missions. You know I get bored easily!” “You’re always left behind because you don’t have the training to go on missions, it’s highly dangerous-” You stop him once more, “You trained me Gabriel, remember?” cutting him off as he goes to respond, “You’d rather let a friar, who has no fighting experience what-so-ever join you versus someone who can actually hold their own?” Giving him the best pout you can, “Please Van Helsing, let me come with you.” applying a slight shake to the arm still in your grip. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him, whether it be the determined look in your eye or the idea that maybe he could use you as help if all went south, but with a strong reluctance coating his words, he agrees to let you come along. 

‘It was the longest trip of my life, a battle through storms and cold only to be put right in the face of death.’ 

You were tired, aching, surrounded by an angry mob when the first one swooped in from the sky. 

The woman, Princess Anna, yelled for everyone to run inside, to find shelter, as Van Helsing shot at the circling Vampires, while Carl was leaning against the wells’ edge, whimpering. You follow the woman as she takes off running - right after landing rather promiscuously on top of Gabriel - eventually shoving her down a cart as two out of the three vampires reach for you. 

You pant for breath as the sun comes out, everyone in the town coming out with it. You walk towards your friends, reaching for the stake sheathed at your side as a noise emits from the well. You scream as the sun goes back behind the clouds and the orange haired vampire bursts up, grabbing Anna by the shoulders. The black haired one not far behind her, not even looking at you as she grabs you and tosses you through the roof of one of the houses. 

You lay there for a moment, paralysed with pain and fear that overtakes your whole body. You snap to attention as the door in front of you bolts shut, muscle memory leads your hand down to your stake sheath, only to find your weapon missing, cursing as you realise you must have dropped it somewhere along being thrown into a building. You let out a sigh of relief when you see Anna, the woman dropping to your side to check on you. You’re about to let her know you’re okay when all of a sudden the orange-haired vampire lowers herself from the rafters of the house. 

You point up weakly, eyes going wide and letting out a yelp as Anna immediately stands and turns to come face to face with her. “Hello Anna” she hisses out, completely dropping and transforming into her regular facade. You do have to admit, she is rather pretty. “Nice to see you too Aleera,” words doused with Venom. You make a move to help her, but when a sharp pain shoots throughout your whole body as you lean forward, you have no choice but to flop back down to the ground. “Did I do something to you in a past life?” Anna backs up slowly, the Vampire, Aleera, following her every move. “Don’t play coy with me, princess,” somehow teleporting to be in front of Anna, “I know what lurks in your lusting heart.” “I hope you have a heart Aleera, because someday I’m going to drive a stake through it.” You watch with bated breath as Aleera literally smacks Anna out of the window, then turns to gaze down upon you. 

She tilts her head at you, studying for a moment. A look that almost resembles recognition passes her features before she dives out the window after Anna. “Fuck.” you murmur, beginning to wiggle your limbs as you try to fight off the searing pain travelling through your body. When you’re able to move once more, you make your way out of the house, down the stairs and through the door, like a perfectly sane person, grabbing a large shard of glass from outside, watching as Anna bursts into another home. 

You weakly run, limping every step, attempting to follow her in case she needed what little assistance you could provide in your current state. Bursting into the house to see the two Vampires over her, mouths gaping open, fangs sharp and extended, their faces taking on slightly demonic forms. You watch as they suddenly scream, twisting and writhing as they turn back into their winged counterparts, flying out of the house.

You offer her a hand, no words passed between the two of you, only pained smiles and grateful expressions, lifting her up as the adrenaline leaves your body, limping out into the street with her. Walking towards the church where your friends sit on its steps, you pass by Gabriels’ hat, turning and grabbing it for him, gently brushing some of the dirt and snow off of it. Bringing it to him and sitting down, you’re met with concerning remarks from both him and Carl, hell, you’d be concerned too if you also saw your friend be thrown into a roof from 40 feet in the air, but you were just too tired to form any words. Letting your head thump back against one of the top steps as an angry crowd of Translyvanians forms around you. 

You’re thankful when Anna jumps to your defence, the revealing of Van Helsings’ identity forces the crowd to back off. You raise your head at the mention of a drink and somewhere to stay, muttering a ‘yes please’ before you slump back against the stairs. Feeling arms come around both your sides, both Carl and Gabriel help hoist you up, supporting your weight as you begin your trek to where Anna was staying, at the old Governors’ house. 

You can’t help the strange sense that washes over you at the sight of the building. 

“But soon, the final battle will begin, I must go and find out who our new visitor is.”

‘It was a restless night, full of aches. Visions of you and a man dancing through your head, along with visions of great pain and sorrow.’

‘Don’t do this Gabriel… Please let go of my wife.’

You could hear screaming, a woman falling through a window. Great agonising pain filling your senses ; grief, sadness, anger, all equally coursing through your veins. 

‘I’m sorry… But you broke the oath.’

Flashes of a happy couple pass through your mind, ending as you turn to be stabbed through the heart by Gabriel-

Shooting up with a gasp, feeling every bone in your body protest at such movement. You take heaving, gulping breaths, the fear seizing your muscles making it hard to intake oxygen. You can feel sweat running off you in rivulets as you try to equal out your heartbeat. What did you just see? This hadn’t been the first dream you’d had of this scenario, with Gabriel killing you, you’d had a dream eerily similar to this one when you first met him all those years ago, except in that one you were the woman falling through the window. 

Bringing up a hand to wipe absentmindedly at your forehead, trying to cease what you assume is a river of sweat. It’s only when your hand comes back covered in a fluid that’s smelling and stringing to your skin, it’s within that moment when you’re able to register the low growling do you look up, and come eye to eye with a werewolf. 

It pounces the second you look at it, giving you only a moment to roll out of the bed and scream as loud as you can. Dodging as best you can as the creature lays havoc to the room you’re in, ducking for cover as leaps for you, watching it crash through the window. You turn as your room door is opened, Gabriel looking in with features clouded by fear. He calls your name, coming around to rest his hands upon your shoulders, “What happened?” “Werewolf,” a shaky hand coming to point towards the shattered window, “Went that way.” Grabbing you by the shoulders he directs you to a ripped up armchair sitting in the corner of the room, sitting you down and handing you your stake, huh, where did he find that? “Stay here, I’ll be back soon.” 

You don’t stay, waiting a few moments after he’s left to get up. It’s only when yelling and crashing resonates from downstairs do you hurry your pace. You arrive at the sight of Gabriel running out of the estate and Anna standing in a catatonic state, staring off in his direction. Disregarding the broken window, you already have a feeling of what broke it to begin with, you turn to Anna, gently grasping her elbows and directing her attention to you. 

“Anna? What happened?” lifting one hand up to her neck, gently tilting her head from side to side, looking for any signs of pain or damage. “Are you alright? Did it hurt you?” That seems to do the trick as her glossy eyes fill with more tears, finally spilling over as she looks at you, “My brother. It’s my brother.” You say nothing, cooing slightly as her tears fall faster, pulling her into a hug. “He’s going to kill him.” Words murmured into your shoulder. “Who’s going to kill who, Anna?” “Van Helsings’ going to try and kill my brother.'' And with those words she takes off out the door. 

You grab a pile of fabric off the back of a nearby chair, knowing that the cold would be too severe for what Anna, and yourself, were currently wearing. You saddle up the horse you came into town on, going off in the direction of several sets of footprints. When you approach where Anna and Van Helsing stand in the graveyard you catch the remnants of what was undoubtedly a heated conversation. “He has taken everything from me. Leaving me alone in this world.”  You quietly dismount, grabbing the blanket you brought and throwing part of it over Annas’ shoulders, slightly startling her with your sudden presence. You say nothing as you resume your previous embrace with her, watching as Anna all but crumbles into the affection. 

“To have the memories of those you have loved and lost is perhaps harder than to have no memories at all.” his words spoken with a guilty glance towards you, an unexplainable rage filling you at the idea of whatever he could possibly be implying. “Alright, we’ll look for your brother.”

“It was obvious that Van Helsing was wary of this man, but when he turned to me I felt no fear. He looked at me in what could only be sheer reverence, and I felt my mind settle.’

The Castle was looming, with electricity zapping to and fro from the top tower. Hanging behind as to give Anna and Gabriel some time to talk. If the fate of Anna's family wasn’t at stake you would take the time to poke at his lovesick behaviour, but until everything was over you held your remarks at bay. 

Entering the dusty manor, pushing cobwebs out of your way, the three of you make your way into a room filled to the brim with sacks hanging from the ceiling, reminding you of very slimy chrysalides. “Have you ever seen these things before?” you aim your question towards either of your company. “No. What do you think they are?” Both of you turn to Gabriel, “Offspring.” “What?” spoken at the same time. “A man with three gorgeous women for 400 years-” “Yes, vampires are the walking dead, it only makes sense their children are born dead.”

Pushing your way through to reveal a grand hall filled with even more of the pods, electricity crackling down the hall and into the room you are in. Watching as the pods begin to pulse and wiggle. “Van Helsing don’t-” exclaiming in exaggerated disgust as he sticks his hand into the sack, throwing the slime substance out of his way. 

“So this is what you get when Vampires mate-” not given the time to finish his sentence as it comes to life, both you and Anna screaming out in disgust. Another blast of electricity barrels through the room, bringing with it a shiver up your spin and the jolt of a static shock. The three of you run as they begin to drop from the ceiling, faintly aware of voices coming from somewhere above you.

Despite Annas’ pleas, you watch as Gabriel exits out of your covered spot, entering the desolate hall once again to begin shooting at the vampiric offspring still flying around the room. He looks up somewhere in the room, a slightly smug look upon his face, “Now that I have your attention.” A giant winged creature falls from the sky and begins to pursue your friend. The gust of air it brings knocks over decorations, items falling all around you. You don’t even register Anna rushing up the stairs behind you, nor the beam and chandelier falling after her, blocking anyone from following. You do, however, register the doors at the end of the hall slamming closed, locking you in here with Van Helsing and the creature. 

Crouching down next to some crates, watching as the creature swoops down, turning into a man. Turning into the Count from the Cardinals’ slideshow. “I can tell the character of a man by the sound of his heartbeat.” A deep accented voice lilting, “Usually when I approach,” clapping his hands together in a slightly off-rhythm staccato, “I can almost dance to the beat. Strange that yours is so steady.”  Hands ending their sporadic clap as he continues to walk forward, all noise ceasing except for crackling of electricity.

When Gabriel drops down and stabs the man you can’t help the sadness that fills you. A strange sense taking over you, making you want to walk over and kill your best friend where he stands. “Requistat in pace” words uttered with an arrogance. You stand up, beginning to make your way towards them, “Hello Gabriel,” freezing in your steps. Did he know this man?

“Is this your silver stake?” pulling it out of his chest and tossing it over his shoulder. “How long has it been, 3- 400 years? You don’t remember, do you?” “What exactly is it I should be remembering?” The two of them begin to slowly circle around one another, “You are the Great Van Helsing! Trained by monks and mullahs from Tibet to Istanbul, protected by Rome herself! But like me, hunted by all others.” 

“The Knights of the Holy Order know all about you, It’s no surprise you would know about me.” “Yes but it’s much more than this” the man laughs as he takes a step towards Van Helsing, the two coming full circle. “We have such history, You and I, Gabriel. Have you ever wondered why you have such horrible nightmares, horrific scenes of ancient battles past. Horrific scenes of betrayal? Would you like for me to refresh your memory a little, a few details from your sordid past?” You shuffle slightly, the heel of your boot scraping across a loose tile in the floor, drawing the attention of both Gabriel and the Count. 

He gazes in disbelief. Freezing for a few moments before taking delicate, hesitant, steps towards you. You knew that you should probably flee, run for cover or to your friend, but instead you stayed put, Standing your ground as he approached you. He walks until the two of you almost stand toe-to-toe. An ungloved hand reaches out towards you and you can’t help the flinch that runs through your body, heart rate picking up in fear. He looks pained at your cower, hand still moving to brush lightly against your jaw, freezing cold fingers solidify his true nature to you.

 “Do not fear me.” 

‘I hope you’ve learned by now that I mean you no harm.’

Words spoken in such a hushed whisper that only you could hear with your proximity. And for some strange reason, you find yourself calming at his words, the fear leaving your still shellshocked system, heart rate slowing. You pay no attention to your friend who’s currently sneaking up behind the man, completely enraptured by the Count. 

He mutters something that you can't quite catch, his hand beginning to drift down your neck, brushing against the necklace round your neck. He picks up the chain and lets it run through his fingers, getting steadily closer to the ring that resides on the end of it. A small silver wedding band that never seemed to tarnish rested along the chain, you had no idea where you had gotten it, it had been in your possession for what seemed forever. It was obviously valuable and you could never seem to part with it, in fear of it one day sliding off your finger during your work you ran it onto a bare chain, deciding to wear it as a necklace. 

Before he can reach the ring at the end of the chain the sound of something clicking into place takes the attention of both of you, him whipping around to grab the silver crucifix Gabriel thrusts into his face, screaming in pain as he makes contact with the holy item. Jumping away as the crucifix bursts into flames within his hand, beginning to melt. He tosses the remains of it away, regaining his composure at a lightning rate. 

“Perhaps that is a conversation for another time.” He takes a few steps back, walking a few feet past you. “Allow me to reintroduce myself, I am Count Vladislaus Dragulia. Born 1422, Murdered 1462.” 

‘Vlad’ rings through your head, the memory of glass shattering and screaming echoing through your mind. You don’t realise that the screaming has become real, Van Helsing grabs your hand and pulls you away with him, still in a dissociative state you don’t realise what’s happened until you both make your escape through a dumbwaiter. 

The two of you make your way to the roof, running into a frantic Anna. “I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Words rushed to you and her, Gabriel grabbing one arm each and launching off a line, extending all the way over the rushing river below, to the nearby mountain. The three of you speed off, almost making it halfway across before the line suddenly shakes. The werewolf from the house, Anna’s brother, suddenly hitches a ride on the back, sliding a bit before one of its claws slices the line in half, taking you and the half closest to the Castle, down.

You can’t help the deja vu that washes over you as you fall, the freezing cold river below you. The sound of Van Helsing and Anna screaming for you is drowned out by your own. 

You can faintly see the outline of someone looking over the edge of the castle railing, a yell of ‘no’ reaching your ears. The person disappears from the edge, only for a winged beast to take their place and jump from the roof. ‘It’s the Count’ you realise somewhere in your mind, closing your eyes in what could only be described as… relief? Even though your heart was beating out of your chest, deep down you knew you’d be alright. The wind is bitterly cold, nipping at your back, whistling in your ears. 

Until suddenly it’s not. 

Your body smacks into the water, cold overtaking all your senses as your body freezes. You can faintly feel yourself moving, arms weakly flailing to break the surface of the water to no avail. The current of the roaring river continuously pulls you under, giving you no chance to save yourself.

Right before you pass out from either shock or adrenaline you’re faintly aware of being pulled from the water and into the air. You’re held against something much larger than you are. One minute you’re plummeting, falling down and then sinking to your untimely demise and then the next you’re going up, soaring through the air. 

And with that, you pass out. 

~~~

You drift in and out of consciousness. You can remember being placed in front of a hearth, someone’s lap laid under your head, rough fingers running through your hair. Then three sets of hands and whispering voices, belonging to whom you believe were women, placing and pulling different layers of clothes upon you. You heard conversations about a creature and tracking it down, followed by being picked up by something much larger than you, a hood being pulled over your head, and the flap of great wings. 

When you fully wake, it’s to the feeling of flying. Slowly blinking your eyes you try to adjust to the darkness. You realise you’re being carried by a large creature. Pointed ears, flat-bridged nose, and a maw that contained razor sharp teeth. Its wingspan had to spread to at least 15 feet or greater, and had to be at least 12 feet tall. And you realise that it oddly resembles a bat. 

You hadn’t realised it was looking at you. Too busy in your observative reverie to notice the slitted dark grey eyes that had snapped your way. The large bat lets out a strange rumble when you make eye contact with it, beginning its descent. You’re laid down on what you assume is grass, watching as the creature soars back into the sky, transforming midair. That’s when you remember the last few hours of your life; officially meeting The Count, and all the strange emotions that came with the introduction, all of the rage, anguish, and nostalgia. And the fact that he had saved you, throwing himself off the top of the castle to rescue you from the river. 

He drops back down to the ground with a certain grace and elegance to his actions, slightly bowing with a hand outstretched for theatrics. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he was doing it to lighten the air, immediately throwing you a smile and small chuckle as he does it. You can’t help the smile that overtakes your face as well, accepting the hand he offers you, pulling you off the ground. Finally taking in your surroundings, you realise you’re standing in front of a semi-dilapidated building. It looks to be a small fortress of sorts, surrounded by mountains on either side, along with the faint sound of a rushing river a great distance below you. 

“Where are we?” words muttered, turning to gaze at him. 

“Poenari.” 

‘He can lie and claim to be a hollow man all he wants. But when I finally realised who he was and what he meant to me, I could see the pure emotion overtake his face, and for once I swore I could hear a heartbeat that wasn’t my own.’

The two of you walked silently through the building. 

The dank remnants of the castle smelled foul; stagnant. The place reeked of death and sorrow, everything was covered in thick layers of dust. The Count walked quietly behind you, offering no explanation as to why you were here. Walking aimlessly through the corridors, footsteps echoing all around as you turn a corner, a loud gasp ripping its way out of the back of your throat. 

The hallway leading to a set of winding stairs was the embodiment of death. Dried blood and half decomposed skeletons line the path,  the stale smell of decomposition lingering in the air. You hadn’t realised you’d stopped until a hand placed itself upon the small of your back, gently pushing you forward. You observe the destruction around you, noticing baskets of mouldy, moth-eaten linens, and cleaning supplies next to some of the skeletons. “Servants.” rings out Dracula’s voice behind you, his hand still upon your back. Coming towards the end of the hall, right before the stairwell, you notice a bare spot. There was dried blood in an outline that shows it obviously pooled from someone’s body, but there was a lack of a skeleton, or any sign that one had been there, at least. “What happened to that one?” pointing down at the spot on the floor. “Agnes was buried.” is all he offers. 

You kept Agnes with you, after all she’d been one of your closest confidants since your mother had died.

He nudges you up the stairs, guiding you through the dark. At the very top of the stairs was a thick wooden door in the middle of a small hallway. At the end of a hallway was a painting. Unlike everything else in this place the painting was spotless. It looked brand new, not a speck of dust on it, like it had been visited often. 

That’s not what captured your attention though. What captured it was that the painting was a portrait of a man and woman. Happy, smiling, loving,

And they looked just like the two of you. 

You step forward, shoes lining up in the dust-free imprint of feet much larger than yours; a well-worn spot. Reaching a hand out, fingers gliding across the woman in the painting, your other hand coming up to brush against your own features. Same hair colour, texture, same eyes, same birthmarks and scars. Her hands crossed gently across her lap, upon her ring finger lay the ring you wear around your neck. 

Gasping, taking a stumbling step back, you whip around to face him. You can feel your heartbeat pick up, confusion and fear starting to take over. “Why-” breath uneven, “Why did you bring me here? What is this place?”

He brings a hand up to the door, pushing it open and stepping back, a slight sweeping gesture to show you go in first. 

“Our home.”

Entering the room, you’re met with what you assume was once a very luxurious room. A dilapidated four-poster bed sits in the middle of the wall that the door is on. The room is stagnant like the rest of the place, but like the painting, free of dust. There’s a dresser, a writing desk, and a gap, from floor to ceiling, jagged shards of glass still remaining around the frame of what was once a window. Torn, mouldy, moth-ridden curtains billow in the light breeze, the stone floor is covered in moss and mould, years of rain pouring in through the opening had made it so. 

In the middle of the room is a dark stain on the floor, a trail trickling from the window to it. You don’t want to believe it’s blood, the colour of it is black, too dark to resemble that which was under the skeletons in the hall, but you know. You know that it’s blood and whatever left the puddle wasn’t human. At the thought you cast a glance over your shoulder to the man who brought you here to begin with, he stands in the doorway, and goes no further than that. You take a step towards the gaping hole in the wall, mindful of any shards of glass on the floor.

You can hear the churning of fast moving water, you can hear the wind whipping in the wind, and as you bend slightly to look out, you can hear screaming. 

“Who are you?” 

“Who I am is of no importance at the moment,” 

“Well everything was lined up perfectly, but now, the Voivode has added a new term to the treaty. Your hand in marriage.” 

“I hope you’ve learned by now that I mean you no harm.” 

‘He always treated you with a gentle hand, was never harsh, never cruel, and he never-ever raised his voice. You were his wife, and you should never need to fear him’

You failed to notice the dark figure in the corner of your room.

 “Don’t do this Gabriel,” “Please let go of my wife.” 

And with that, he pushes you out the window.  

And then everything went dark. 

You stumble violently away from the window, knees collapsing under your own weight. A firm presence makes itself known behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist, holding you up. Your vision is spotty, head pounding with this newfound knowledge of a past life and your eyes well with tears. You tilt your head up, making immediate eye contact with the man holding you. Your voice comes out scratchy and choked, “Vlad?” as the tears begin to spill out of your eyes. Vlad gives a pained smile as he turns you around and pulls your body towards his. 

The embrace is emotional as you reduce down to nothing but shaky limbs and heart-wrenching sobs. He holds you strongly, there’s not an inch of his body that doesn’t touch yours, and you could swear that in that moment, you could feel another heartbeat alongside yours. 

The sound of sizzling breaks you away from the hug, looking up in time to see a singular tear make its trek down his cheek, burning the skin it slides down. You quickly bring up your hand, sleeve pulled around your fist to dry it before it causes anymore damage. As you make a move to bring your hand back down he moves quick as lightning to hold it to his face, head tilting to place a delicate kiss upon the skin of your palm. “I missed you,” the words are soft, your throat still scratchy. “Not as much as I missed you, my darling” and with that, he kisses you. 

The kiss is soft, yet powerful. With the force of almost 200 years worth of lost time fueling it. Vlad pulls you even closer, if it were possible. You can still hear the light sizzling where tears are undoubtedly still falling from his eyes. His lips are as soft as you remember, his movements still the same as well. The only difference was his temperature, a constant reminder that you were no longer the same. 

A reminder of the reason you were in Transylvania to begin with. 

Before you can say anything, Vlad pulls away from you. His left hand continues to hold you firm at the waist while his right moves from your cheek to smooth over the top of your hair, coming to a stop at the nape of your neck, cradling your head. There’s a furrow in his brows as his eyes flit across your face, “What is wrong my darling? Why does your heart panic so?” you close your eyes and gently shake your head.

“What about Gabriel, Vlad?” 

“What about him?”

“The only reason we’ve come to Transylvania is so he can kill you, Vlad. He’s vindictive and will not stop until he sees you turn to ash before his feet. Oh this is all my fault,-” 

“Do not say these things.” His right hand tilting your head to look at him, “How is any of it your fault, my darling? Fate is not your fault. You were meant to come back to me one day, and now you have.” A delicate kiss placed upon your forehead, “And as for Gabriel. I will handle him myself. Now come, we have somewhere to be.” Taking your hand and gently pulling you back the way you came. 

When you make it outside, there's three women dressed in lavish silks, gossamer, and fine jewellery. You find yourself subconsciously clutching his hand harder when the three women outstretch their arms and move towards you. There’s almost an ethereal echoing coming from somewhere as the women surround you, cooing their praises. Delicate hands with thin, claw-like fingers move across you. One hand pats your hair, another down your arm, with a ghosting touch on your back. The women skit around, their movements are graceful, like a dance of sorts, and you find yourself in a trance like state. 

“Oh Master,” says the red-headed one, who you recognize as the one Anna called Aleera, “She’s just as perfect as you said.” You find yourself blushing at the statement and the attention that’s being showered upon you. Two cold hands scoop up your face to bring you directly in front of the long black haired one, “You are absolutely stunning, my dear.” “Thank you” whispered quietly, your face practically engulfed in flames. 

Casting a glance towards Vlad only to find he’s already looking at you, a gentle smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. The women stop their parade of affection with a singular lift of Vlad’s hand. “Have you taken care of what you needed to?” His voice echoing out with a seriousness to it as he reaches his hand out towards you. “They tricked us with the carriages, master, and escaped with the monster.” You can see the second that the anger forms in his eyes so you pull yourself away from the women to walk towards him, taking his hand and rubbing your thumb upon the back of his knuckles in hopes to sooth him. Your efforts work as he tilts to look down at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“No matter. Van Helsing is heading straight for Budapest anyways. Aleera I want you to go and follow them, Verona you go with her.” and with a gesture of his hand the two turn into their other forms and fly off into the night, leaving just Vlad, yourself, and the black-haired woman. “Marishka, take my darling and get her ready for tomorrow evening.” You hear a quiet ‘yes master’ as Vlad places a small kiss in the middle of your forehead, before releasing you to a now winged Marishka. “Don’t worry my darling, Marishka is a gentle flyer.” And with that you’re lifted into the air. 

~~~

You’re at a glorious castle in Budapest, a summer home, you remember Verona briefly telling you when her and Aleera finally catch back up. She works quietly and carefully to do your hair while you sit in front of the vanity, slightly nerved by the fact that you wouldn’t even be able to tell she was there if it wasn’t for her brushing and pinning your hair, the lack of a reflection startling. She makes small and polite conversation with you, including an apology for throwing you earlier in the town, as she admitted to not looking to see whom she had grabbed before she picked you up. 

“We are truly very excited to have you within our presence, for many years we have all heard stories of you, the heartbreak Dracula felt at the loss of you and your child never truly went away, no matter how we tried to quell it.” Her accented voice lulls quietly through the dim candle-lit room, and you're briefly hit with a burst of guilt and sadness at the idea of them trying to do everything they could to make Vlad feel better, only for him to rebuff their attempts. You can’t help but offer her an apology.

 “What for, my dear? You are here now and that’s all that matters, everything is as it should be.” and with that she finishes your hair, which has been gently pinned to your head, curls looking defined. Before you could say anything else she walks away as the two other brides enter the room. Aleera is the first to reach you, lithe fingers gliding down both sides of your neck as her cold hands come to lay delicately upon your shoulders. “You look magnificent,” words cooed to you, “truly stunning.” Finishes off Marishka, taking a seat next to you on the bench as she leans forward to reach for the jewellery. 

You hear the shuffling of feet, what you assume to be Verona returning from wherever she had gone. When Marishka is finished clipping in earrings for you, you turn your head to find Verona holding a light blue dress in a style much like that of her and the others dresses. It’s complete with gossamer sleeving that opens up around your wrist and trails all the way down to the floor, a form-fitting partially transparent torso and a loose skirt made of a layered sheer chiffon material. “And now for the final touch.”

~~~

You look and feel like a true goddess as the girls lead you down a hall, you’re conscientiously aware of the ethereal echoing that has returned as they giggle while taking you down to the ballroom. The music grows louder and louder as you approach a large set of double doors, half of a masquerade mask is quickly slipped onto your face as the doors are open and you’re thrust into the room. 

There’s hundreds of people in the room, ranging of all ages as you spot children up in the rafters. There’s people dancing, people performing on silks and with fire, and so many other things that it makes it hard to take in the grandeur of the room all at once. You’re aware of how you must look to all the others, jaw dropped and head constantly turning to take in your surroundings. When you turn your head to look back in front of you, you’re met with the sight of Vlad. He’s in his usual clothing, just with a gold cloak tied around his neck, a mask the same chromatic colour to match, with his hand outstretched towards you. 

You wordlessly take his hand and allow him to pull you closer, his hands gently begin roaming, one hand quickly lifting the mask to take in your features before dropping it back down to rest on your face. “You look absolutely stunning, my darling.” A cold kiss pressed upon your lips, “May I have the privilege of dancing with you?” Eyes boring into your own, he quirks up the corner of his lips into an ever arrogant smirk. “Why yes you may.” Words whispered towards him quietly, acutely aware of all the eyes that are upon the two of you. 

Vlad takes your hand and leads you to the spot directly in front of the platform in which a veiled woman stands upon. The rest of the guests clap as whatever piece of music is being played comes to an end, partners taking their places on the dancefloor. You quickly grab Vlad’s arm as a sudden realisation hits you, “Wait, Vlad, I can’t dance.” eyes wide with fear at the notion of making yourself look like a fool in front of all these refined people. He turns to you with a somewhat reassuring smile on his face, “Don’t worry my darling, you’ve danced this dance many times before. You know what to do.” A look of sheer disbelief covers your features, you open your mouth to throw a sly retort back to him but are promptly cut off as the woman on the stage begins a beautiful aria. He lifts your hand up delicately before softly spinning you outwards. All of a sudden you throw your arm out in a slow and graceful manner, the steps of the dance flooding back into your mind. When you spin back towards him there’s a certain look of, I told you so, overtaking his face, as he grabs your waist and pulls you towards him firmly.

He takes off his mask, then your own, before placing a kiss upon your lips. “I told you that you knew it.” as you both fall back into step with the others, “Of course,” smiling at him softly, “How could I ever forget the steps to the music of our first dance as husband and wife?” A puzzled look quickly takes place upon your face, “Is that the same singer?” question asked as you look back and forth between the veiled woman and Vlad. “You’ll find that many of the faces in this room, once unmasked, will appear very familiar to you.” He spins you until your back is to his front, subconsciously tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck for Vlad to place a cold kiss directly over your pulse point. 

The tempo of the music picks up and you, on instinct, fall into a faster spin with Vlad. He dips you in front of a mirror, eyes snapping over to look at your reflection, the way it appears that you’re floating, Vlad nowhere to be found, none of the other guests can be seen either. You come to the sudden realisation that you’re a mere mortal in a room with hundreds of vampires, your mind begins slipping, remembering the fact that you’ve been choosing to ignore to instead relish in your past; Vlad is dead.

An undead creature who never grows old, who feeds on other humans, you realise how temporary your situation with him is in comparison to the rest of his life. This one minute moment in a sea of others that are sure to come, and all of a sudden, your life pales in comparison. You can feel your stomach turning with the sudden acknowledgement, a wave of nausea hitting you. As if he can sense where your thoughts are going he quickly scoops you back up, continuing the dance. “It’s alright my darling,” the hand upon your back quickly sweeping up and down in a soothing gesture. “There’s no need to fear, nothing is going to happen to you, everything is going to be alright.” He stares into your eyes, his own translating the sincerity of his words. 

You feel yourself relax with the reassurance, head coming to rest just under his own, your eyes closing as you gently press your face into his chest. “What’s going to happen to me?” you don’t feel the need to elaborate, as you’re sure Vlad already knows what you’re asking. “Nothing that you don’t want. If you choose, it will be one brief moment of pain, and we can be together forever.” You pull your head away from him, your eyes still closed as he dips you once more, his hand skating up the front of your dress to rest upon your neck. “What if I choose yes?” “Then it would be my honour, my love.” A deep breath taken in, then he screams, dropping you in a blaze of fire as the cape he’s wearing begins to burn. 

You stand up quickly, worriedly making your way towards him before you’re swept off the ground. All the air is knocked out of your lungs as you tumble onto a balcony, slamming straight into a door. Disoriented, you can make out someone saying your name and shaking your shoulders. “Wake up!” You gaze confused into the eyes of Gabriel, as you hear a voice from down below. 

“Gabriel…” his voice is even, words spoken slowly. “Oh Gabriel…” you stagger towards the bannister in time to see Vlad step into the middle of the room, the cloak that he was previously wearing off to the side in a smouldering pile. All the guests have cleared a wide berth for Vlad as he stops and gazes upwards, a certain fear emanating from them. “Oh Gabriel, welcome to my summer palace.” A smirk thrown up towards him before he turns his eyes towards you, giving you a subtle nod as Igor bursts into the room with the Frankenstein monster in tow, screaming his revenge. 

“Now that everything… is as it should be… Ladies and Gentlemen, I give to you; Van Helsing!” The hundreds of vampires in the room unmask themselves, faces morphing into their sinister counterparts. The sound of screaming and screeching fills the room as you cover your ears, eyes cinching shut. Gabriel takes this as his moment to wrap an arm around you, pulling you away. You protest, squirming in an attempt to get out of his grip, which only causes him to hold you tighter and lift you off your feet. 

He burst through the door that you ran into, where you’re met with Anna right next to the door and Carl at the end of the hall next to a stained glass window. Passing Anna she grabs your arm, beginning to pick up speed with Van Helsing, causing you to squirm more, “Gabriel put me down!” But the protests fall on deaf ears. He strides with purpose towards Carl, a walk turning into a run. “O-Oh where are we going?” Carl stutters, dropping a device onto the floor, “Out the window!” and before either you nor Carl can protest, you shatter the probably thousand year old stained glass as you jump through. 

As you drop towards yet another river, a light equivalent to the sun fills up the entire palace, shattering all the other windows. The only thing you can think to do as you hurl through the air is to scream for Vlad, worried that he was caught in the blast of light, and then you once more drop into water. 

As you resurface you can hear the echoing of screams in the aether, your head continuously goes up and down as you struggle to get your bearings and to reorient yourself. Once you come up for good you take gasping breaths. Gabriel floats next to you, panting for breath with a certain ecstatic look upon his face, “Carl, you're a genius!” “Yes, a genius with access to unstable chemicals.” 

You watch as a boat with Igor, the Frankenstein Monster, and a few other strange looking creatures depart from the port, Van Helsing furiously swimming towards him, Carl and Anna following after. But you remain still. You can’t help but allow yourself to be consumed by the water for a moment, dropping back beneath the rippling current. The water is cold, all consuming, sending a shiver down your spine. You open your eyes, gazing up to see the moonlight cutting through the water and shining down to where you float. You watch the bones and remains of the vampires sink down to the bottom of the moat, the realisation that Vlad or any of the brides could be amongst them fill you with such an overpowering sense of loss. You clench your eyes shut and with the last little bits of breath in your lungs you scream. The air bubbles out of your mouth, floating upwards, you follow them, still screaming when you break the surface. 

The scream gains the attention of Gabriel, Anna, and Carl, who now hold onto a portcullis that had come down from the castle. Your voice gives out, eyes going blurry with tears, choked sobs making their way past your lips. You hear Anna call your name in a worried tone, beginning to make her way over to you. “Stay away,” voice so quiet that no one should have heard it, but Gabriel gives a sharp “Why?” You lift your head up to look at him, trying to blink the rain and tears out of your eyes. You’re about to say something but you see the half-circular red mark that had welted and scabbed over peeking out of his partially unbuttoned shirt. You’d recognize that mark anywhere. Years of pouring over all the books on the supernatural that you could find in the Abbey, hearing stories from Carl about the creation of monsters. 

Van Helsing had been bitten by a werewolf. 

Sensing your gaze upon the mark he places his hand over it. You continue to stare at him, not saying a word as Anna reaches you to place a comforting hand upon your shoulder. You hear her quietly ask what's wrong, turning to look at her, you see an abundance of understanding and hesitancy in her eyes. Could she know? Know that you felt your allegiances slipping to the other side? It was certain that Van Helsing knew, given by the anger in his eyes. 

You open your mouth to say something when the echoing sound of laughter comes through the air. You’d recognize that laugh anywhere. Three light shadows move through the sky, followed by one large dark shadow. You gasp as all 4 come swooping down towards the water, edges of wings slicing across the surface sending sprays arcing into the air. You watch as Carl and Van Helsing duck, Anna following their actions as well, her hand that was still on your arm tries to pull you down with her but before she can Vlad follows behind his brides, swooping down towards the water and plucking you from the surface. 

He makes a sharp turn upwards almost grazing the portcullis before flying higher and higher into the sky. He then straightens back out as you hang below him, Vlad holding onto you under your armpits as Aleera slows down to allow him to pass her before she places herself directly in front of you. You turn your head to look at her, noticing the ball of dark fabric within her arms. Watching as she unfurls it to reveal a cloak, placing the hood on top of your head before fastening it in place just below your collarbones. When it’s on you she gives a sharp grin before letting out another laugh and speeding up to resume her spot with Verona and Marishka. The wind whips at your back, causing the cloak to wrap around your front, you feel yourself being pulled up and jostled around until you’re almost in a position that resembles a bridal carry. Vlad uses one hand to pull the cloak all the way around your body, nestling you against him. You pull the hood further over your head before wrapping your arms into the cloak, balling it into your fists to hold onto the fabric, you turn your head until the wind is at the back of it, and at no risk of blowing the hood off. 

You shiver from the cold of your wet clothes, from the cold of the rain that is still falling, and from the wind that gets stronger from how fast you’re going through the air, the shivering leads to you being pulled impossibly closer to the creature that carries you, looking up to find sharp eyes already upon you, bat ears swivelling back and forth, listening for any signs of danger or discomfort. You can’t really read his expression, not in this form anyways. 

“How is it that I always end up falling from dangerous heights into water?” giving a half-hearted smile to convey that you’re telling a joke, and that you’ll be okay. You’re not given a verbal response, just a deep chuckle and the slight digging of sharp claws into your back, almost like his little way of jokingly warning you to ‘knock it off’. You let out a small giggle, laying your head against him once more, before closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep. 

~~~

‘The peace that I felt, the sense of homeliness within the presence of Vlad and his Brides. The comfort of having these people who loved and cared for one another begin to love and care for me was something that I cannot describe in its entirety to you.’ 

There was no telling how long you were into the flight or where exactly you were going when you woke up. Your clothes were dry and the rain had stopped, although the clouds wherever you were out hovered ominously in the air with the promise of more. You let out a yawn, trying your best to stretch out your limbs while not trying to move so much that you felt like you’d fall. You feel a large hand about three times the size of your own smooth itself over the top of your hooded head before a deep rumbling voice lets out a curt remark of “Almost there.” 

It’s then that you see a large castle, much bigger than Castle Frankenstein or the one in Budapest. It has a bridge that leads nowhere, broken off not even one-fourth of the way across, surrounded by a deep abysmal ravine and peaks of snowy mountains for as far as the eyes can see, offering no way in, and no way out. 

Unless you had wings of course. 

The wives drop down around the halfway mark of the crumbled bridge and Vlad follows suit, dropping down effortlessly, transforming mid-descent, all with you still in his arms. He sets you on your feet slowly as the other three come towards you, their steps almost floating, the ethereal echoing filling the air around you once more. Hands come out to pat your hair and your clothes, various questions being thrown about; Are you alright? Are you cold? Do you need anything? You can’t help but fluster under all the attention, feeling your face grow warm. You go to answer their question before you’re caught off guard by a sneeze, which makes you shiver and bundle back into the cloak. They’re immediately sent into a panicked frenzy, going on about you falling ill from all the rain and cold, mumbles about a warm bath are the last thing you hear as they all disappear towards the castle doors, leaving you and Vlad standing there by yourselves. 

You turn to look at him, only to find him already staring at you, not that you’re surprised. He has this soft look in his eyes, one that you saw many times throughout your marriage in your previous life, there’s a smile on his face and you could swear that there was colour in his cheeks. 

You gaze around at your surroundings and are met with the sight of skeletons impaled on posts lining the bridge, giving Vlad an incredulous look you’re met with a look of sheer innocence. “Well I’ve seen this decor before.” laughing as you speak, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Vlad instantly responds without pause, wrapping his right arm around your shoulders, walking you towards the castle doors. “Oh really? So you’d have me believe that this is the doing of your brides?” feigning ignorance as you gently hit your forehead, “Oh silly me I had almost forgotten that you were married to Verona the Impaler.” sarcasm drips from your every word as he turns his head to look at you from under his brow. 

The walk remains silent for the next few minutes as you make your way inside the castle and begin traversing up the stairs. “Vlad,” met with a small hum, “How did you find this place?” You’re met with silence, watching as various emotions subtly twinge his features. “I didn’t find this place. I was banished here.” He doesn’t elaborate as you come to a set of doors, arm leaving your shoulders to hold it open for you. It opens to an expansive room, with another door in the room that is currently open with gentle wafts of steam billowing out of it. You’re met with the brides, who are finishing up drawing you a bath. You thank them repeatedly, stating that they didn’t need to do that for you, but are quickly silenced as they leave the room, except for Verona. 

“I’ll take your dress for you so it may be cleaned. The water has muddied it.” Giving a nod, you take off the cloak and move to drop it next to you before a hand swoops out and grabs it, throwing it over his forearm. Vlad then moves behind you to untie the laces of your dress, loosening it enough for you to drop it down your shoulders, where it is then promptly taken by Verona who leaves the room soon after. 

You make your way to the tub, trying to throw a leg over the edge in a very ungraceful manner before a hand is quickly placed on the small of your back, stabilising you as you lower yourself into the water that was at a perfect temperature. You move to take off all your jewellery, realising that you’re still wearing your wedding ring on a chain. Taking off the chain you remove the ring, acutely aware of Vlad’s eyes on you, sliding it onto your finger where it rightly belongs. 

“Are we still technically married?” question thrown thoughtlessly, “If I… you know, died.” growing quiet at the acknowledgement of your death, looking down and frowning to yourself. “Oh of course we are, my darling.” A cool hand tilting your chin back up to deliver you a kiss before pulling your head back some more to wet your hair. “Do not think otherwise.” 

You sit in a calm silence as he gently washes your hair before you decide to address what was really bothering you. “So, you were banished? By who?” He’s quiet for a few moments, the only sound in the room being the gently scraping of his claws as he swirls your hair around. “My father.” he says, voice nothing but a whisper, “after you and I died, I had a vision. The Devil had come to visit me to offer me eternal life, on the one condition that I would have to feast upon the living. I didn’t want it at first, I knew you were already gone, and the thought of living eternally without you was too much to bear, but the Devil told me that I’d be able to get you back if I agreed, so without thinking I made a pact with him.” 

Listening quietly as he rinses your hair and moves onto your body.

“When I awoke, I was in our home, in a pool of my own dried up blood. I saw the wreckage of the room and the rest of the estate and had no other option but to travel back to town. I walked on foot until I reached the Village where I was then met with the frightened looks of all the townspeople. When I arrived at the home of my father he was so disgusted by me and the demon that I had become that he had his men clap me in irons and walk me to a door of which there was no return, banishing me to this castle. I laid weak at the very edge of that bridge for many weeks, hoping that someone would come to let me back through, but when it was obvious that no one was coming, and that I was growing hungrier and weaker, I called upon the Devil once more, and he gave me wings.” 

You turn to look at him when the sound of light sizzling reaches your ears. “Oh, Vlad.” Reaching forward, the water of the tub gently sloshing with your movements, you place your hands on both sides of his face, fingers swiping carefully under his eyes to stop the tears before they can cause anymore damage. You pull his face towards you, placing your forehead against his own, closing your eyes and basking in the comfort of his presence. “I’m so sorry.” “You have nothing to be sorry for, my darling.” Leaning forward to kiss him, you move one hand upwards to push the wayward strand of hair out of his face. His own hands come up to cradle your head, smoothing down over the back of your neck. “You would not imagine how torturous of an existence it was without you.” Voice hoarse and deep, his eyes darting back and forth across your face. “I think I could.” Leaning back up to kiss him once more, this one lasting longer than the previous one. You press your lips impossibly closer against his own, letting a soft noise of content escape your throat, that draws a hum from Vlad in return.

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.” Pulling away and giving him the most sincere look you possibly could. The droplets of water on your back had dried and left you chilled, quickly dunking your body back underneath the surface of the warm water while Vlad reached for a very soft linen, gathering up all your hair and gently patting it dry. “No, no, it’s alright, my darling. After the Devil gave me wings I travelled to feast and rebuild my strength, then I went looking for you. Your body had washed up on a bit of shore quite far down the river, the shore was connected to a small alcove of trees and flowers. I buried you there, along with Agnes, where no one would ever be able to bother you.” He finishes with your hair, moving to grab another linen which he holds out across both arms. You take the initiative and lift yourself up and out of the tub, grabbing onto his shoulder for support as he wraps the soft and plush fabric around you, before helping you out. 

When you reenter the grand bedroom you find that a fire has been lit in the fireplace across from the bed, the flames roaring and flickering, filling the space with a comfortable warmth. You also find, to your shock, that your dress is sitting dry on the edge of the bed, cleaned and looking brand new. “Help me with it?” gesturing your hand to the dress, moving towards it as Vlad does the same, continuing with his story as he laces it up for you. 

“My existence trudged by slowly and painfully for many years after that. Even though I no longer feel emotion the way I once did, I can still feel hints of it, little tuggings of yearning or sorrow. I needed something to fill the loss, and that’s when I found Verona. She was a princess, if you couldn’t tell, she had regality and poise and she was stubborn in a way that reminded me of you. Then Marishka, who was a dancer in a travelling show, and then Aleera, who lived in the Village with Anna.” You raise your eyebrows, even though he can’t see it. “I didn’t realise that Aleera was that young.” a taunting lilt in your voice, remembering that you were only twenty years old when Vlad married you in 1460.

He pulls a little tighter on the strings, causing you to gasp and whip your head around to give him a look that simply says ‘Seriously?’  You open your mouth to say something when your stomach lets out a sound that rivals that of the fire blazing in the room, a heat filling your face as you slightly pucker your lips out of embarrassment. He laughs at this, tying off your dress. “Come, let’s get you something to eat.”

~~~

You spend the next two days relaxing in the company of the Brides, the more time you spend with them the more you come to love them. Marishka is witty, Aleera is a gossip, and Verona is a scholar, and their varying personalities make for a refreshing change throughout the day. You had, however, indulged all the girls in stories of what Vlad was like when he was still alive, the wistful look in all their eyes making it hard to deny them anything. You didn’t leave out a single detail, telling stories that made the girls cry, giggle, and blush, saying things that Vlad would surely deny if he was ever asked about them. 

Vlad had disappeared, to where exactly in the castle, you weren’t sure, but you were fairly certain it had something to do with the Frankenstein Monster and reviving the undead children. Even though the girls could keep you distracted you couldn’t help but have that nagging fear at the back of your mind; Van Helsing was still out there, and he wouldn’t stop until Vlad and the Brides were dead. Gabriel is vindictive and persistent, and you’ve seen what happens to those who test him. You’d expressed these feelings to the Brides, who had immediately began comforting you, the ethereal echoing and cooing bouncing off the stone walls as you were hugged and held while you spilled your every thought to them.

When you’d told them that Gabriel had been bitten by a werewolf, they all grew deadly quiet. The cooing had quickly turned into scared whispers that sent a chill down your spine before Verona quickly jumped up, changed, then flew off, presumably to pass this new information along to Vlad. 

“Vlad can control the wolves though, right?” A look passes between Marishka and Aleera, before the latter turns to you, “Only after their first full moon, before that they pose so much trouble.” “We can be killed by stakes, holy water, and other things, but Vlad is the first of us, our master, and he cannot be killed so easily.” chimes in Marishka before also leaving, quickly following after Verona. “There is only one thing in this world that can kill Dracula.” words spoken softly, timidly, Aleera sliding a hand down your arm before she moves to leave. “Can you guess what it is?”

Yes, you could guess. A werewolf. 

~~~

‘The final battle was beginning. I could feel myself being split in two, the half that was loyal to Anna, Carl, Van Helsing and the Vatican was fighting the half that was loyal to my husband, Verona, Marishka, and Aleera.

You had spent the rest of the night alone, sleep not finding you as you retired back to the bedroom, only to pace back and forth, nerves and nausea tearing at your stomach. It was later on during the witching hour when the door quietly opened, a dark figure making its way inside. “Vlad!” Crying out his name breathlessly, rushing to him to throw your head into his chest and your arms around his waist. His arms immediately find their way around you, pulling you so tight against him that there is no way to move, a gentle kiss pressed against the top of your head. 

He bends his knees, one arm lowering to rest right beneath your butt, hoisting you up effortlessly into his arms before walking over to the bed and laying down with you atop him. Your head lays on his chest, yet the room is absolutely silent. There is no noise beneath your ear, no gentle pulsing of a heartbeat, just hollow silence. The two of you say no words, and truth be told you don’t really think any need be spoken. You both understand what is to come, the battle that is no doubt making its way towards you. Vlad just holds you, a hand atop your head, lithe fingers running through your hair in a soothing manner. You feel yourself drifting to sleep, eyes growing heavy. You can hear him mummering to you in a language long forgotten in your dreary haze, making out a few words here and there. 

Another kiss is placed gently upon your forehead as the heavy covers of the bed are pulled up and over you, protecting you from the bitter cold of the castle. And with that, you sleep.

~~~

When you awake it is to the sound of thunder, and the view of lightning and pouring rain. There’s just the tiniest hint of light filtering through the rain, but the ever-prevalent darkness tells you that it’s almost nighttime, meaning that you’ve woken up just before everyone else. You step out of bed, stretching, before making your way over to the door. As you step out you’re met with the sight of the Dwergi roaming through the halls carrying various tools and papers. They don’t speak to you, they don’t even look at you, they just continue bustling down the hall as if you weren’t even there. You go the opposite direction of the Dwergi and make your way down the flight of stairs that leads to the connecting hall of the castle that will lead you to the wing where Vlad and the girls sleep. 

It’s then that you can hear the frantic blubbering of Igor from the main entrance. “How did you- how did you find… it’s impossible!” Quickly peeking out from around the corner of the door, you’re met with the sight of Igor hanging from the wall, blubbering some more as the person in front of him throws a hand around his neck. 

Van Helsing was here. 

You quickly try to think of a way to get around them so you can warn Vlad that they’re here when a loud shriek fills the entire castle, reverberating off the walls so loudly that you have to cover your ears for a split moment. You can faintly hear Igor, “my master has awakened,” and you take that as your moment to quickly sprint across the hall when the attention of everyone is taken by the Frankenstein Monster. 

You run up the stairs, following your instinct of where Vlad would be. You know that usually when he awakes he goes to the overseeing of the Dwergi working on bringing the children back to life, so you run as fast as you can to the Laboratory. Making your way up the spiral staircase that leads to the top of the tower you’re hit with the strangest sense of Deja Vu, ignoring the pit in your stomach that tells you the last time you went up a staircase like this you died. 

The doors open as you approach them, the Dwergi ever diligent in their appeasement of the masters of this home. You quickly stride across the room, dodging sparks and Dwergi before making your way to Vlad in the middle of the room. “Vlad! Vlad he’s here, Van Helsing is here.” words spoken in a panic, eyes wide open as you gasp for breath. You’re sure he can feel your fear, your heartbeat pounding wildly out of control, the whooshing of blood in your ears making it hard to hear anything else. 

His eyebrows furrow before his facial features morph into one of sheer rage, face partially transforming as he lets out an inhuman screech. Not even a split second later, Verona, Marishka, and Aleera appear before you, awaiting word from Vlad. “If Van Helsing has truly been bitten, they will go for the cure, I want you to go and stop them. Stop them and bring the cure to me.” They disappear as fast as they arrive, flying off in a mixture of shrieks and laughs. 

“And as for you, my darling.” Turning to look at you before you promptly cut him off. “No, I’m staying right here.” He protests, but you shut those down as well. “No, Vlad. You remember what happened the last time Van Helsing broke into our home and we were both apart from one another.” The question was rhetorical, and it seemed to garner the reaction that you wanted, Vlad seeming to be in deep thought. He slowly nods his head, but points back over to the door. “Fine, but you stay over there. Out of the way, you forget that you are still human, my darling.”

You wait anxiously by the door like Vlad told you, watching as lightning strikes and fills the room with an eerie green glow. Throwing your arms over your head for some form of protection as you hear a shout of “Give me life!” echo through the room. “One more bolt and my young will live!” You watch as Vlad suddenly becomes enraged, flying through one of the glass windows of the room. 

Moments later Van Helsing drops through the open tower that leads into the middle of the room, setting a few Dwergi on fire as he bursts through machinery. He stumbles as he stands back up, face twisted in confusion and pain, looking around the room. He spots you by the door, in your dress, covered in jewels with your hair done, looking every bit the part of one of Vlad’s brides. He looks betrayed, and for a moment you feel a sharp pain in your chest, wishing that you could say something to him, but before you could even think of what to say, Vlad drops back down, quietly behind Gabriel, sneaking up on him. 

“You are too late, my friend! My children live!” Vlad exclaims, stalking towards Gabriel, “Then the only way to kill them, is to kill you.” Nodding his head with a loose hand gesture, “Correct.” This causes Gabriel to laugh as he moves in front of the window, “Then so be it!” dropping his coat off as the clock strikes midnight. He transforms into a wolf with each toll of the clock as Vlad gives you a quick look before feigning surprise, maniacally laughing. 

“We are both part of the same great game, Gabriel! But we need not find ourselves on opposite sides of the board!” Quickly changing himself as he and Gabriel begin fighting one another. You duck down quickly next to a barrel as they traverse the whole room, explosions following their movements. 

You watch as Vlad throws a board off of himself, walking towards the middle of the room. “You are being used, Gabriel, as was I, but I escaped, so can you!” Before quickly flying off as Van Helsing jumps for him. You gasp as Vlad is thrown to the ground in a sound of extreme pain, revealing a broken wing. Watching as he jumps up to a platform, before falling, rolling over to his side to reveal that he is covered in blood and scratches. Van Helsing extends his claws before dragging them down a pillar in a threatening manner, jumping up to Vlad.

“Don’t you understand?” Backing away from Van Helsing, there’s a very obvious limp in his gait, causing you to step out from your spot, moving closer to where the two are. “We could be… We could be friends! Partners! Brothers in arms!” trying in vain to get away as Van Helsing catches him by the neck. You scream out his name, moving towards him before an arm is quickly gestured in your way, a sign for you to stay away. 

“Did I mention that it was you who murdered me? It must be such a burden, such a curse, to be the left hand of God.” Quickly appearing behind Van Helsing, “All I want is life, Gabriel. The continuation of my kind.” He throws a look towards you before holding up his hand, ring finger suddenly missing, “And perhaps the return of my ring! Don’t be afraid Gabriel, don’t be afraid. I shall give you back your life, your memory.” 

You miss the rest of what happens as a vial is placed in your hand. Snapping your head around your met with Verona, her vampiric face covered in scratches and bloody marks. “Give it to him, we must finish holding off the monster and the girl.” Flying back off to wherever she came from, you turn around right as Van Helsing jumps across the room, pinning Vlad to a piece of machinery, catching him off guard. 

He struggles to fight him off, Van Helsing's mouth getting closer and closer to Vlads neck. Vlad is using both hands to try and keep the werewolf as far away from him as possible, so giving him the cure is out of the option. 

There’s only one thing that you can do. 

Running across the room you’re able to make it to the pair right as Vlad’s arms give out from the effort of keeping Van Helsing away. He goes in for the finishing move but before he can your shoe scuffs against the floor, gaining his attention. He turns around, growling, pouncing on you without even a second look. You gasp as you’re hit, vaguely registering Vlad scream as you fly through the air with the wolf, quickly sticking the syringe into his side as you hit against a pillar, landing limply on the ground. 

Eyes wide open, but not seeing, slowly clouding over as you breathe your last breath, leaving nothing but a corpse on the floor. 

~~~

“No! What have you done!” words screamed throughout the room, Dracula making an ear-piercing shriek as he made his way across to you, pulling you into his arms, gently cradling your head. Cries of pain and shock are heard throughout the room as Gabriel turns back into himself, dropping to his knees before the dead body of his friend. 

Dracula is muttering words to you that Gabriel can’t understand as the three brides come bursting in through a window, one of them grabbing him by his shoulders and throwing him out the window onto the bridge that connects to the mirror they came through. On the bridge he is met with the sight of Anna, Carl, and the Frankenstein Monster slumped against the reflective surface. He approaches, shaking the shoulders of Anna and Carl to wake them up. Anna awakens first, groggily, “What is it? What happened?” placing her hand atop of Gabriels, the fog of her mind clearing away as she realises that Gabriel is crying. “What is it, Van Helsing, what has happened? Is Dracula dead?” He shakes his head, mummering your name quietly. “What about her? Is she alright?” He makes eye contact with Carl who is now also awake, watching as the realisation hits Carl, lip quivering “She’s dead.” Carl says with a finality, hanging his head and also crying. 

Van Helsing places his hand and quietly murmurs the word that will get the door to open before standing up and limping his way through. 

Damn the Vatican, as far as they’ll know, Dracula was defeated.

~~~

“No! What have you done!” words choked out through his injured throat. He lets out a shriek that will summon his Brides to him, running towards you before swooping to his knees, grabbing you, watching as your limbs remain limp, head flopping on a broken neck. He can feel the tears come, feel them burning tracks through his skin but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s vaguely aware of Verona riding the room of Van Helsing, before all three of his brides drop sadly next to him, all of them holding onto you. Cries echo throughout the room, his pain is their pain, but their pain is also their own, given all the bonding they had done with you over the past few days. 

He places one hand upon your chest, right over your heart, and that’s when he feels one faint, barely-there swoosh of blood travelling through the organ. 

It’s not too late.

Ducking his head down immediately to latch his teeth onto your neck, draining you of your blood. He holds his arm out, feeling a nail slice down his wrist, not sure who’s but it really doesn’t matter. He holds his hand to your face as he continues to drink your blood, watching his own trickle into your mouth. He pulls away from you, leaning his head towards his shoulder to wipe his mouth off, waiting for the cut on his wrist to heal itself, deeming that enough of his blood had been shared. 

You remain eerily still. Not a twitch of the muscles, a blink of the eye, nothing. “Normally there would be a reaction by now.” words murmured to himself, but are met by the supportive whispers and touches of his Brides. “Oh, my Lord.” Verona speaks, running a gentle hand across his face, “It takes some time, you remember how long it was until it took with Marishka. We waited almost all night.” Marishka murmurs her agreement, remembering the words spoken to her when she had awoken to her new life, ‘We thought you weren’t going to make it.’ But she had made it, and surely you would too. 

“Let's move her to her room, master.” Aleera standing up and moving towards the door, “She will be more comfortable there.” Vlad can’t help but agree, moving his arm that wasn’t cradling your head under your knees and scooping you up, making his way towards the door. He walks quietly through the halls, dropping you gently on the bed before making his way to the bathroom to retrieve a damp linen to wipe the blood off with. When he arrives back in the main suite he notices that his Brides have already removed all your jewels and undressed you, finding a soft shirt that Vlad briefly recognizes as one of his own to take the place of the dress you were wearing. 

He quietly wipes down your shoulder where he bit you, small flakes of dry and crusted blood coming off with ease. He then tosses the linen off to the side and takes a gentle seat next to you on the bed so as to not jostle you around. 

Vlad is a patient man, and vows to sit and wait for as long as you may need. 

~~~

You wake up in the room that belongs to you and Vlad. Sunlight shining in through the large windows, filling the room with tiny fragments of rainbows. You turn your head to the side and gaze upon your husband sleeping peacefully beside you, not being able to help the soft smile that overtakes your face. Leaning back down to place a flurry of kisses along the warm skin of his face, giggling quietly to yourself. 

The quiet romanian muttering as he stretches all his limbs at once alert you to the fact that you have succeeded in waking him up, watching as he cracks one eye open for only a split second before it closes again. “It is far too early, my darling.” His arm comes to pull you back down towards the plush surface of the bed, wrapping you up snug against himself. “Too early? Vlad, it's daytime.” “Still far too early for my taste, and besides, you should be getting all the rest you can.” A finger poking gently at your stomach. “It will be good for you both.” 

You don’t argue, cuddling up to him and placing your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

Wait, Vlad doesn’t have a heartbeat. 

You snap open your eyes, the room is no longer sunny, it’s stormy and reeks of death. You’re covered head to toe in blood and Vlad’s dead body is laying in the centre of the room, hand clutching his chest, a pool of blood surrounding him. 

You spin around, breathing, panicking, turning towards the doorway when a hand of claws snatches you up by the neck; Gabriel. He walks you to the window before throwing you out, you fall, plummeting towards your doom, when all of a sudden you stop.

You stop mid-air, something catching you. Turning your gaze upwards assuming you’d find something holding yourself, something that was preventing you from falling, only to find nothing but clear sky. You hear the gentle whooshing of wings, grey clipping through your line of sight out of your peripheral vision. Frantically looking around, slightly panicked you realise that the wings are yours. Looking down at the rest of you only to be faced with the sight of ashy grey skin, hands lifting up revealing lithe fingers with monstrous claws. 

You don’t panic, no, instead you revel in it. Smiling to yourself as you launch yourself into the sky, wings working furiously to move you higher and higher, and you bask in the feeling of freedom that it brings you. You move up towards the clouds, white filling your vision. 

And then you wake up. 

~~~

You open your eyes, overwhelmed by everything you see. 

It’s as if the whole world has changed, everything is so much more clear than it used to be. You can see everything; the intercrossing of the fabric of the sheets that lay overtop of you, the various colours of the flickering flames in the fireplace across the room, the detail of each individual snowflake that falls in front of the window. Turning your vision to the left, finding Vlad sitting on the edge of the bed facing the wall. 

Moving a hand from where it lays across your chest to place it gently on his arm. He jumps in surprise as you snap him out of whatever melancholic reverie that he was in, head snapping around to gaze at you in pure disbelief and relief. He scoops you up into a sitting position as he pulls your torso against his own in what should have been, quite literally, a bone crushing hug. “I thought it hadn’t worked.” words muffled from where his head lays pressed against the crook of your neck. “You were so still for so long, I… Never, never leave me again, I couldn’t bear it.” 

Pulling your head back slightly, Vlad doing the same, the two of you hold eye contact for a moment, opening your mouth to say something you instantly grimace, closing it back and reaching a hand up to grasp your throat, a searing pain now making itself known, a pain that you recognize as thirst. “Are you hungry?” Nodding your head to him at the same time the door to the room bursts open, Verona, Marishka, and Aleera pouring into the room in a symphony of ethereal echoings and giggles. Aleera is carrying a cup of a viscous red fluid which she then hands over to you. “Perfectly aged, to tide you over until we can get to the village.” 

Taking the contents of the cup with greedy gulps, you find that it doesn’t taste as metallic as you would’ve thought, in fact it’s not metallic at all, it’s actually rather sweet. It helps the pain in your throat enough that you can pretend it’s not there, at least until you get some more. The other four people in the room watching your reaction, and as you tilt the cup all the way to the ceiling to try and get the last dregs from it there’s a deep chuckle from Vlad. 

“Don’t worry, my darling, we’ll leave for the village and then you may sate your thirst.” 

The girls grab you, pulling you up from the bed, once the sheet drops you realise that you’re back in your dress, fully looking the part of your new life. There’s giggling and excitement filling the air, and you can help but practically vibrate in place from the joy that’s coursing through your veins. Once you’re up you all prance out the door and into the hallway. 

Vlad watches on in contentment at the billowing of green, yellow, pink, and blue fabrics through the hallway, the four of you radiating sheer joy and happiness. 

You’re not exactly sure where you’re going, but you follow the girls willingly. They lead you to a large room with dramatic arches on the ceiling, and large, sheer drapes hanging down from various spots. There’s a thick stone coffin with no top lying in the dead centre of the room surrounded by tall candelabras and you assume that it’s Vlad’s, which leads you to wonder where the girls sleep. Across the room there’s a carved out arch that leads to nothing but a solid wall, and you wonder what it’s even there for. When Vlad finally does catch up to you he throws his arms out wide, welcoming all four of you to him. When you’re all together you begin to slide across the floor towards the wall, the second you come into contact with it, you seem to almost melt through it, coming out the other side to a room that you remember being in Castle Frankenstein. 

It’s a portal. 

There’s an open skylight in the room that it leads out into, and when the girls begin to transform you know that’s your exit to the village. They fly up, leaving you and Vlad alone in the room, but hovering over the Castle, flying around in circles until you’re ready to join them. 

You stand awkwardly for a moment, turning to look at Vlad. “Um, how do I, you know,” arm coming up to gesture loosely towards the sky. “There’s really no way to explain it, you don’t think, my darling, you just do it.” Transforming himself, lapels melding into wings before he too, takes flight. 

“Oh yes because that advice is so helpful.” mumbling under your breath even though you know that he can hear you still, nevertheless you try to take his advice, willing yourself to fly, closing your eyes tight and balling up your fists to focus. When you hear cackles of laughter close by you open your eyes back up, realising that you’ve lifted through the skylight and are in-fact flying. Your skin grey to match the wives, equipped with claws and teeth of your own. 

You fly in a few test circles before giving a reassuring nod to them all. Then, you all take off towards the village. As you fly, you notice three horses racing through the mountains out of the corner of your eye, your newfound heightened senses allowing you to see miles ahead of where you used to be able to before. 

Upon one of the horses, is someone in a shaggy brown cloak; Carl. On the second, someone with a head full of curls, bouncing behind them with the movement of the horse; Anna. And on the last, someone who wears a leather coat and a hat, someone who with all his training surely recognises the feeling of the eyes that lay upon him as his head turns to look back, someone who notices that there is one more bat in the air than there used to be, someone who ignores this fact as he turns back around and continues on his way.

And so do you. 

~

Originally posted April 14th, 2023.

[gaysindistress]

Never Love an Anchor

Pairings: gn!Tav x Zevlor

Summary: a ship can never love an anchor so Zevlor cut you loose but kept the love he held for you in his heart, hoping that maybe that might change.

Warnings: talks of cannon violence in bg3

Word count: idk man I wrote this in my notes and it’s more than a Drabble but not a fic so somewhere between? 🤷🏻‍♀️

I highly recommend listening to ‘never love an anchor’ by the crane wives. I read something from @gnomishcunning awhile back about the things that Zevlor deserves and that’s what inspired this so give them love too 💕

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The great Hellrider Commander. The new leader of the exiled Tieflings. An old and broken paladin with no faith to draw strength from. A man who’s been charged with the protection of his people and expected to do right by each and every one without fail.

Commander Zevlor.

Or simply Zevlor as many of his people call him.

You’ve heard many stories about this famed man but never have you laid eyes on him. Elturel isn’t far from Baldurs gate so it wouldn’t be completely unimaginable to say that he somewhat of a hero to you. What happened to the city struck both fear and sorrow into your heart. The worst part, however, is knowing that the tieflings would be the ones to suffer the consequences of actions they had no part in. It takes a selfless soul to take on the duty that Zevlor has and this only adds to the respect you have for him.

The first time you meet is during the fight in front of the Grove. Arrows and spells are flying around as you battle the goblins with people you don’t even recognize. One goblin in particular has evaded your attack almost every time and has moved into a lethal position. Their arrows are landing successfully every time on the tiefling guard above the stone door, nearly sending him to an early grave.

Vaguely you hear someone shout his name as he stumbles backwards when an arrow lands in his shoulder,

“Zevlor!”

Shadowheart is doing what she can to protect you as your world seems to slow. Lae’zel ’chk’s at you when she notices your faltering movements and cuts down a worg coming for you while Astarion sneaks behind the remaining 2 goblins. The one that shot at Zevlor and has been dodging you also notices this and makes to attack you next. Your blade is faster than their bow.

They fall to the ground as you throw your last healing potion at the fallen tiefling and order Shadowheart to use her last spell to heal him.

The battle is won soon after and you’re finally able to meet this hero of yours for the first time. Rather than reducing to a star struck mess, you keep yourself composed as you approach him arguing with Aradin. Somehow you manage to convince them to stop fighting before yet another battle breaks out. You direct Aradin back with a simple point of your finger before turning to the Hellrider. It’s then that you realize there was one important detail missing from his legends; his striking beauty.

His horns stretch and bend far beyond most tieflings indicating both his age and wisdom. The infernal ridges that line his cheekbones and forehead bring attention to his entrancing eyes. Glowing like the enteral torch, Zevlor’s eyes study you with caution as you marvel at his appearance. Moving from his face you take in the worn but cared for chain mail armor that sits upon his strong shoulders that carry the burden of thousands. His chest, board and equally strong as his shoulders, seems to move in time with your own breath; adrenaline filled but calming all the same. It’s a testament to the seasoned paladin that lives within him, his reassuring strength that does not waver in the face of danger. It’s proof of the well trained commander within him that strategizes his every move as well as others.

Whatever words you thought might aid you in introducing yourself seemed to disappear and all you can offer is a half smile. Zevlor thanks you for your help but it’s not without a lingering gaze that cuts through your confidence. It seems he’s mistaken your shyness for indifference towards his people. Regardless he still asks for your help in getting his people to Baldur’s Gate. Your immediate acceptance causes several of your companions to be upset with you. Frankly Shadowheart is the only one who has an inkling about what’s truly going on. That night at camp, she brings whatever wine she could find to your tent and slowly drags the truth out of you.

“I couldn’t help but notice your fascination with Zevlor,” she muses from behind her chalice before adding, “well I could but there’s no fun in that.”

You chuckle at her as you take a sip of your own wine. It’s bitter and foul but it’s something to sooth your nerves no less.

“My fascination? And what exactly did I do for you to notice such a thing?”

“You stared at him as if he were the most beautiful piece of art work you’d ever seen. That or he was a feast after starving for weeks on end.”

“I did no such thing!” You try to defend yourself but it fails horribly when neither of you can stop laughing. “Fine maybe I did but can you blame me? He is a beautiful man.”

Rolling her eyes, Shadowheart finishes her chalice and turns to face you. It’s startling to have her full attention on you like this but the wine has lessened your concern.

“Tell me truly; do you have feelings for him?”

You stare back at her and hope that her goddess might have mercy on enough to smite you where you sit. Alas you have no luck and are forced to answer.

Your eyes find the empty chalice in your own hands as it dangles from your fingers between your knees.

“I think..,” you start with a sigh, “I think that my feelings are irrelevant in our current situation. A relationship, a romance has no place among the fight we’re facing. Matters of the heart have no relevance when making decisions the lives of many.”

Your strangely beautiful yet sobering confession renders the cleric speechless for once. She glances to between the moon and you before nudging you with her shoulder.

“Do not be so quick to cast your feelings aside. You never know when matters of the heart may take precedence.”

Some months later after the nether brain fight, everyone has settled into their lives and gone their separate ways. Wither’s gathering has already passed and this would be maybe a few weeks later. lakrissa and alfira have gotten married and theres to be a small reception in the city at the Elfsong. Of course the heroes of baldurs gate are invited seeing as without your party, the couple wouldn’t have survived this far.

Zevlor and the tieflings have made amends following the finale battle so he’s in attendance as well. He’s still cautious and honestly probably a little scared that they will change their mind and shun him for what happened at Moonrise so he’s a wall flower. He makes his rounds and keeps up polite conversation but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome so he plans to leave pretty early on. The rest of the party has arrived; Karlach and Wyll are the current stars of the hour as they tell fabulous tales of their time in Avernus. Gale and Lae’zel have sent their regards while Astarion and Shadowheart keep their chalices full and their gossip hushed. The only ones missing are you and Halsin.

Everyone knows that the two of you had something special but no one could ever figure out what. Shadowheart swore herself to secrecy and Astarion charmed the conversation to something entirely different. As for the others, no one knew why you chose to follow Halsin to the former shadow lands, only that you had and seemed to be content. Zevlor hasn’t seen you since the last fight and it created a deep rift within himself to think about it.

On one hand, he had nothing more than your conversations and the one near kiss to use as evidence of your affection for him. On the other, he remembered your tears when you found him the mind flayer colony and how you whispered a promise of forgiveness to him before you left to fight Thorm. He recalled in excruciatingly vivid detail the feeling of your tear soaked lips pressing to the corner of his as you pulled away and the utter devastation that filled your eyes.

“They will understand and they will forgive you if you give them the chance, Zevlor. You are their commander, their leader, their champion. You are not at fault for this and they will see that if you let them. Promise me that you will try. Promise me that you will not forsake yourself.” You whispered to him in a cracked and pleading voice, “promise me you’ll try. You deserve it.”

His heart pounded against his ribs as he forced himself to look at you in the eye. His knees buckled as your lips brushed against his. His voice wavered as he agreed to your promise. His strength cracked as you smiled at him and left to face almost certain death.

Zevlor isn’t so foolish to believe that you would’ve chosen to follow him after the finale battle but his heart yearned to think about that possibility. The chance, no matter how small, still felt real even as he anxiously waited for your arrival.

Like a goblin’s arrow, the sight of you walking into the Elfsong arm and arm with Halsin pierces Zevlor’s heart. You do in fact look content; your skin is glowing from being able to eat your fill and sleep as long as your desire. Your hair has been released from its strict hairstyle; bouncing around your face back in soft waves and shines in the pale evening light. Your eyes, while they’ve always been stunning, have a new spark of warmth and joy. No longer are you clad in armor but instead you’re wearing a white and blue patterned outfit that flows around you like water. Your figure has also changed but in this new attire, it becomes even more apparent that you are healthy, happy, and a feast yourself. The smile that blesses his dreams widens as you begin to notice your companions and former allies.

Zevlor casts his gaze to the ground when Halsin presses a kiss to your hairline. This confirmation is too much for him to bear and he finds anything to occupy his mind.

As the gathering quickly turns into a celebration, Zevlor attempts to make his exit. He quickly bids the couple farewell and congratulates them before trying to slip out without being noticed. A deep sigh leaves him as soon as he’s outside the doors and it’s not one of relief.

Frustration maybe.

Anger perhaps.

Or is it shame that forced him to leave without even acknowledging you?

“I knew you were not one for crowds but this I did not expect.”

He halts and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s been caught.

“The city has been treating you well, I take it. You look…” you trail off as you allow the tavern doors to close behind you, “good. Not that you didn’t before but… a life of ease agrees with you.”

Zevlor doesn’t face you, a choice that pains you more than you’d like to admit. He’s almost frozen in place as you approach him.

Coming to stand just beside him, you murmur his name and all but beg him to look at you.

With great effort, he does. A hint of blood woven pain flashes in his infernal eyes as he gazes down at you.

“But how have you been treating yourself, hm? Have you forgiven yourself or have you forsaken yourself to a life of solitude?”

He says nothing but it’s an answer enough; he’s not kept his promise to you. He crosses his arms over his chest and attempts to look more casual about the whole situation.

You begin to say his name but he cuts you off, “go on and enjoy the celebration. There are many people who have been waiting for a chance to speak with you.”

“what about you?”

His thick brows knit in confusion, “me?”

“Is there anyone else out here?” You tease for a moment, “I did mean you, Zevlor. What about you? Were you one of them?”

He wants to pretend that he wasn’t but he can’t, not when he’s been agonizing over this moment for months now. A particularly loud shout draws your attention back to the tavern and when you’re not looking, he can’t help his gaze. Almost immediately he finds himself staring at your revealed chest and the way your shirt does little to conceal the vast plains of your torso. A lump grows in his throat at the thought and he barely swallows it before you look at him again.

“I’ve thought of little else but what it would be like to see you again these last few months,” you say after taking a deep breath, “Halsin finds it difficult to not tease me about how ‘preoccupied’ I seem most days. On our way here, he told me that I better say the words I’ve been pondering all this time or he would do it for me.”

At the mention of Halsin, Zevlor unintentionally stiffens and looks over your shoulder towards the tavern. You follow his line of sight and step in front of him once more. It’s a bold move but no bolder than what you’re about to do.

You place your hands on his folded arms and gently pull, asking him to step closer and to give his attention.

“I know of the rumors about Halsin and I. I’d hoped that you hadn’t heard of them but it appears that you have and now I fear you won’t hear what I have to say.”

Zevlor stares at your hands for a moment before letting his eyes flutter closed. “Speak plainly, y/n.”

His words are uncharacteristically short and cold, a stark contrast to the person you’d come to know. You go to drop your hands and step back but one of his shots out and grabs your wrist, keeping you in place.

“I need you to be clear and precise right now. There cannot be any doubt or confusion from this moment forward.” he tells you in a low tone, one of authority and of a Hellrider Commander.

The hand on your wrist shifts to grip your bicep and pulls you impossibly closer. Your own breathing quickens when your feel your chest press against his and you find yourself leaning into his grip, relying on his strength to keep yourself upright.

Your voice, usually strong and confident, wavers as you whisper, “Halsin and I….we are no more than friends.”

Zevlor stays silent, only searches your face for any tell that you could be lying. The hand on your bicep flexes and his claws press into your skin. You hold back a hiss from the sting, pushing aside the pain to become fully absorbed in his presence. He goes to apologize however your lullaby words silence him, “He is not the one I’ve longed for since we first met.”

His hand tightens and tries to hold you in place but his strength fails him. Your hands drift from his arms to his chest and come to rest on his jaw. The tiefling’s eyes flutter closed at the contact and he takes a deep, sharp breath.

“Y/N,” he warns.

“I’ve admired you from the moment I first heard your story. I’ve known that you were going to be someone deeply important to me from the moment we fought side by side in the grove. I’ve yearned to learn everything about you since you reject my advances at the celebration, claiming that I could have anyone I desired. I’ve cared for you since learning of your fate in the Shadowlands. I realized that I loved you when I found you in moonrise in that awful colony but I’ve loved you far longer. I’ve loved you all of this time but yet I couldn’t find it within myself to tell you for fear that you wouldn’t feel the same.” Tears begin to flow from both of you as you whisper your confession to him and he keeps his eyes closed, “Zevlor I’m in love with you and I want nothing more than to be with you if you’ll have me.”

His tail wraps around your waist, keeping you close while his hands slid up onto your neck and tilt your head up. With a shaky deep breath, he musters the strength to open his eyes and look at you. The old paladin has forsaken his forgotten god many months ago and promised to live in your honor. He’s swore an oath to you that you know nothing about but it would seem that you have done the same.

“My love for you knows no bounds and no rivals,” he whispers as his lips brush against yours, close but not close enough. “I’ve waited long enough to hear that you feel the same. Promise to me that this is not some cruel joke, a drunken confession but the truth. Promise to me that you truly mean that you love me.”

“I love you,” you hastily whisper before finally capturing him in a passionate kiss. A groan slips from him at the feeling of your desperation to convey your feelings but it’s returned tenfold.

It seems that Shadowheart was right all those months ago.

[hyuckkaiji]

my love - ominis gaunt x f!reader

summary; pt.2 to only mine. Ominis has loved you since the moment he met you. He found the universe cruel to give him such a love yet allow you to love his best friend. But now you're his, and he can never let you go. Not after all he did to get you in the first place. Ominis!pov up until the actual smut then it's kinda dual!pov pt.3: ominis , pt.3 sebastian

word count; 5.1k

warnings; 18+, explicit sexual content, dark themes, dubcon, porn with a plot, dark!ominis, sub/dom dynamics, mentions of cheating/infidelity, manipulation, obsessive behavior, controlling behavior, If I'm gonna be real with y'all ... yandere!ominis

note; in love with this man, need him to treat me like this. idc if he locks me up in his basement as long as I'm with him. maybe went a lil overboard. Second ever smut 🥴🫶 also ik I didn't specify but the spell he used locked her in the house so she couldn't run away 🤪

The memory of meeting you is ingrained in Ominis' mind, every part of you is. The sound of your laugh, the smell of your hair, the feel of your skin against his. You are undoubtedly irrefutably the most beautiful creature to have ever walked this earth. He's known that since he was fifteen.

But you didn't love him back, much to his dismay. Although he could understand it. Who would love him? Not even his own family did. No, he didn't fault you for not loving him. He faulted you for loving Sebastian Sallow.

He would tell himself he understood, of course he understood. He loved Sebastian too, Sebastian was one of only three people he had ever loved. He understood it, he did not blame you, he understood it, he did, he swore he did. But he didn't, not really, and as time went on, his lack of understanding only furthered.

And he began to blame you, such an intelligent witch, and yet you continued to be fool when it came to Sebastian. You watched him make all the wrong decisions, for merlin's sake, aided him in those decisions. You not only stood by but stood with Sebastian as he delved deeper and deeper into the dark arts, all in hopes of saving Anne.

Constantly defending his decline into utter insanity, "If it were my sister..." But you didn't have siblings, Ominis did, and he would never do what Sebastian was doing. It wasn't right. When would you stop being such a fool? He told you and told you and told you some more how bad the dark arts truly are. But you always did favor ignoring his warnings.

Did you just not care about what he had to say? No, you cared, you told him you cared, and he knew you spoke truly, but you cared about Sebastian's happiness more. Even when he couldn't take it, even when he begged you to speak some sense into Sebastian, you defended your lover. "Would you not use the unforgivables to save a loved one?" For you he may, but he had pushed that thought away, doubling down, telling you under no circumstances would he ever.

His last straw was the killing curse, the bloody killing curse. There was no coming back from that. He could no longer stand by his friend, his brother, really. The only family he had, he couldn't stand by Sebastian when he wouldn't even stand by his own blood for using such heinous magic. He had expected you to side with him. You weren't that much of a fool. His heart broke when you didn't, Sebastian it was always Sebastian. You begged him not to tell, Sebastian had good reason for his actions. No one need know what he did.

According to you, Sebastian always had good reason, and you begged so prettily, the word please sounded so right coming from your lips. Until he remembered why you were saying, "please," why you were begging. But he agreed none the less, agreed to keep Sebastian's secret. But that was a lie, a lie he swore to take to his grave. Sebastian had gone too far.

Ominis hadn't slept. In fact, he was on his fourth cup of coffee. Tea, tea, you had told him, with some of the other ladies, wives, of Feldcroft. But tea does not take all night. He had opened up a book when you left, opting to read until your return.

He had wanted to beg you to stay in with him, wanted to let his hands roam your bare skin, wanted to drop to his knees, and hike your leg over his shoulders then and there. But he is a gentleman. So he decided to wait until you got back home to satiate his desires, you wouldn't be long and he's not an animal, he could wait.

Waited he did, waited until the book began to bore him. Waited until the moon hid away, waited until the vibrant colors of dawn began to paint the sky. You were like this sometimes. He had learned to work around it. So, like the good husband he is, he waited. Other men would have demanded you stayed. Other men would have gone out and dragged you back home, beat you bloody perhaps. But he isn't like that he loves you and he'll work around your moods. You always come back to him any how.

He knows it's just one of your moods or moments as he calls them. Those times where you think you want to leave him, where you think you'd be able to. But you know and he knows, he's all you have and you'll come back. He'll wait until you feel better, but he'll not sleep without by his side.

So there he sat, swirling a fourth cup of coffee, with just a hint of milk and sugar. He didn't like it too sweet. The sun not yet fully in the sky when he hears you shuffling your way to the front door. Perhaps you thought he'd still be asleep. He did enjoy extra time in bed on his days off. Perhaps you thought you could climb into bed with him and pretend you hadn't been out contemplating running away, again.

You did that semi-often. He would pretend to be asleep, he would pretend not to notice you'd walked your night away, lost in that pretty head of yours. But he knew, he knows everything about you. It doesn't bother him the way you feel, not really. He would love it if you loved him back. Hell, he'd be over the moon about it, but it's not important. You can hate him, he doesn't really care, as long as you're his, your feelings don't really matter.

As long as you sleep by his side at night, as long as you have breakfast with him every morning, as long as you welcome him home with false kisses in the evenings, as long as you quiver when his cock enters you, he's perfectly happy letting you have your little day dreams about leaving.

Something about tonight had felt different, though. He had felt off. It was not long before dawn when he let his worries get the best of him, the sky more dark than light when he cast his spell. His intuition was right, it always was.

Sebastian Sallow was in Feldcroft. Ominis should have been more diligent with his wards, he knew he had been getting slack. It had been so many years now, he thought surely Sebastian would have moved on by now. But no, he supposes, had roles been reversed, he would not have moved on either. It's his own fault, he should have never slacked on his wards. He would need to remedy his mistake.

Perhaps you hadn't run into Sebastian, perhaps it had just been a normal walk for you. No, Ominis knows Sebastian, even after all these years, he knows him. He found his way to you, his perfect little wife. Gods help him if he has touched you in any way.

How to deal with this dilemma? Oblivate maybe. No he doesn't feel right casting such a spell on you, a good husband would never. He needs more information before-

"Husband." Merlin, how he loves hearing you say that. Yes, yes, he is your husband, you needn't ever speak his name again. Only call him husband, stake your claim on him, call him yours. Yes, your husband. Your good husband, your sweet husband.

"Wife." His voice is calm, he looks over in your direction. Wand in one hand, coffee in the other. "You did not sleep, darling." A statement. "You did not come home, I couldn't sleep without you." True.

"I-I-" You didn't continue, letting the awkward silence settle, thick and heavy. "Come sit, my love, I was worried when you did not come home, but as you said, this is Feldcroft, so I did not necessarily worry for your safety." A lie, normally true, but tonight had been different, "Do not take that the wrong way. I always worry for your safety, I only meant-"

"I know what you meant, husband." You tossed your coat over an armchair before sitting next to Ominis. He set his wand and coffee to the side on a small table, uncrossing his legs, patting his lap for you to rest your head. A common gesture, he enjoys the way your hair feels like woven silk between his fingers. You obeyed, such a good wife, his wife.

You wiggled a bit before finding a comfortable spot on his lap. He was still in the same outfit. Though he was only in his dark blue trousers and his white button-down shirt. "Where were you?" His fingers started their routine, your hair was knotted, more than usual. His fingers gently worked out the knots regardless.

"Walking, I'm sorry, I should have come home. Should have come back to you." Liar, his fingers twitched, wanting to grab you by your hair and force you to speak the truth. He knows where you were. He always knows where you are. Just as he always knows where Sebastian is.

It was one of his main reasons for becoming an auror. Of course, he enjoyed his job and enjoyed taking down dark wizards, scum of the earth. But his main reason was to keep Sebastian away from you, to keep you all to himself. You, you have been his reason for everything, his reason for living. His need for you is insatiable.

Before he met you, had Sebastian went down this dark path he might have mourned his friend, would have left his life but never betrayed him, never turned him in. But after you, you his sweet wife, his one true love. You're the reason Sebastian is on the run, this is really all your fault. If only you had loved him to begin with, he would have never needed to get rid of Sebastian.

Never needed to do all that he has done, for you, he did it all for you. Do not misunderstand, he regrets nothing but still it must be acknowledged, he is no betrayer by nature, he is only what you have made him.

"Speak the truth, y/n." He has no tolerance for liars, your falsities he could deal with but blatant lies, he could not. You shot up from his lap, moving to look in his face. Though his eyes could not see the worry etched into your features, he could feel it radiating off of you.

"Ominis." He perfers when you call him husband, but his name has never not sounded heavenly on your lips. "I speak the truth. Why do you accuse me otherwise?" Do you think him a fool? Blatant lies, by the gods, he never took you for a liar, yet here you are. He is a fool. He stands quickly, grabbing his wand.

"Ominis." You sound afraid, your voice coming out in a slight whimper. You've never sounded afraid of him before, something about it sends a jolt to his cock. You should sound afraid. He is a powerful wizard, after all, one of the most renowned aurors of your time. Him and his partner are responsible for putting almost half of the new prisoners in Azkaban, several he managed to capture on his own.

You should be afraid of him, you should respect him, you should love him. After all this fucking time and everything he has done for you, given for you, why don't you love him? Why is it still Sebastian. You would rather live a life on the run, a life of a criminal, than be with him?

He casts the spell while you still cower before him, one of his own creation. One, powerful witch you are, even you could not take down. "What...what was that?" Still whimpering, he'll give you a reason to whimper, a reason to beg.

Too long he has been the gentleman, the good auror, the perfect husband. Clearly, you crave something different than what he's been providing. "A spell."

"Cleary." You snap, fear gone, back again is his angry little wife. He loves you, anger and all, but dear, this not the time. His hand connects with your cheek, the sound of the slap vibrating in the silent house. He can smell the tinge of blood in the air, he must have broken your lip. He does not know his own strength, he should not have struck you so hard. No, you deserved this, he needs to teach you a lesson. He grips your face harshly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He knows it's bothers you, makes you squirm to look a blind man in the eyes.

"You will not speak to me like that again. Unless you enjoy being struck?" You did not respond, at a loss for words he supposed. He's never been harsh with you, never even raised his voice at you. He can be a cruel man, truthfully he is a cruel man, just never to you. It's a side of him he has made sure you were never subject to.

He leaned down, until your noses were almost touching. He could feel your eyes scan his face, hear your short rapid breathes. Fear or anger? He wished you would speak. "Do you understand, wife?" He could barley hear you and he has superior hearing to most men, "yes."

"Yes, what?" He did not know what he wanted more, for you to anwser correctly or incorrectly so he could strike you again. Feeling you tremble beneath him, it was exhilarating. You need to understand how good you have it, need to understand all the leniency he gives you is a courtesy, one he will rescind unless you learn to behave like a proper wife, the wife he deserves.

"Yes husband." Such a good girl, his good little wife. He should be kind, he wants to be kind to you. But making you bleed, making you afraid has awoken some animal instinct in him, unchecked need.

He tilts his head letting his tongue dart out to swipe away the blood building at your lip, letting the metallic taste settle in his mouth. A part of you he is only tasting for the first time, a taste he wants more of. But he pulls back, he needs to control himself at least some what, at least until you beg him to continue.

He crouches before you, his hands against your knees, face tilted up towards yours. "My love, I know where you were." You shake your head, "I was walking, I just needed to breathe, needed to be away from the house for some time. I-" You let out a choked sob, fighting back your tears, he wants to comfort you, he hates when you cry, "I just wanted some time alone, sometime to feel like my own person. Not just Ominis Gaunt's wife."

His wife, his wife, his wife. Those words made his cock twitch, not the time. He stood and struck you again, this time you cried out, this time you brought your hands up to shield your face from another blow. His hand snaked into your hair, wrapping the loose strands in a fist, yanking your head back painfully.

"Speak the truth woman, unless you wish for me to forcefully extract the information." He was a master at such tactics, an empty threat when it came to you. He would never harm you in such a way, but you needed to believe he would.

"Ominis." Tears streamed down your face as you pleaded, but the way you said his name didn't have the intended affect on him. "Truth." Was his only response.

"I was with..." A hiccup, a sob, "Sebastian." The truth. Ominis released his harsh hold on you. Taking a seat next to you, pulling you into his chest, gentle hands stroking your head, rubbing your back as you continue to cry. "There, there my love. All I needed was the truth, if you had only been truthful to begin with." That only made you sob harder, but you did not pull away, instead burying your face deeper, holding his shirt tightly in balled fists.

When you finally calmed down, the only remnants of your break down being dried tear streaks and the occasional hiccup, Ominis held your face in his hands running a thumb over your busted lip softly. "I did not mean to hit you so hard, my love. I apologize."

"I-I can forgive you husband. Can you forgive me?" Did you mean it? Do you regret the night you spent with that fugitive? It doesn't matter, as long as you're in his arms, his wife, his love. "Tell me why you did it? Why you are not happy with me?" You face snaps to his, shocked at his words.

You stutter, unable to form a reply. "Yes, I know, I've always known. I just," He paused, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, "hoped you would learn to eventually." A shiver runs down your spine.

What made you do it, he isn't sure, but you lean in, closing the distance, locking your lips in a frenzied kiss, hands coming up to bury in his sleek blonde hair. Guilt? Best just to enjoy the moment. He kissing you back just as hurriedly, hands tearing your clothes off in a manor of disregard he has never shown before. Slow and loving has always been his way .

In a matter of moments both of you are naked, your kiss a mess of teeth and tongues, hands gripping hair and nails raking across bare skin.

His teeth bury into your neck, sucking and biting an angry red mark into your skin. You moan in response, using his shoulders to steady yourself, nailing digging into his pale flesh. "You're mine, my wife." His mouth is back on yours before you can respond.

This feeling is new for you, this way that Ominis is treating you. But you can't help the spark you feel, the tingles making their way through your body. You rub your thighs together to ease some of the friction, to feel some sort of sensation where you need it most. Where you need him, your husband, Ominis.

He slowed down, feeling you shift around, kissing soft chaste kisses, his normal kisses, into your skin. "Are you feeling needy, my love? Tell me what you wish." You always come first, "Your mouth, fuck, please Ominis."

Normally he would, as soon as the words "your mouth" left your lips he'd be down on his knees lapping away at your juices, swirling his tongue around your clit just the way he knows you like, the way that makes you come undone and shake beneath him. This is not a normal day.

He forces you down on your knees, your face aligned almost perfectly with his waiting leaking cock. "Ominis?" You're confused. He looking down, looking into your soul again, it's sends a shiver down your spine. But it's different this time not kind, not loving, but angry, hungry, a beast in a man's skin.

"I always give you what you want, I do my best to make you happy, I fuck you the way you want to be fucked. And still you have the gall to shut your eyes and imagine Sebastian while it's my cock you come undone on." His hand is in your hair, firm but not painful, "No more love, you're going to start being a good wife to me. You're going to listen and you're going to learn."

For the first time you want to, you stare up at Ominis' face, taking in every minute detail, the way his hair clings to his damp skin, mapping out the moles the scatter across his body, the ridged muscles he gained from years in the field as well as the scars he's got in battles, you've never cared to notice all this before. But right now I this moment, you can't deny, he's beautiful.

"Lesson one," He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your waiting lips, "use that pretty mouth of your for something other that talking back to me."

"How do you know my mouth is pretty when you can't even see it?" He sneers at you, holding your hair a little tighter and it sends a wave down to your core. With his other hand he grabs his cock directing it down to press again you're lips.

In the four years you've been married to him, you've never done this. Sex has never been about his pleasure, only yours. Time and time again he had delved between you legs until you came apart on his tongue, yet he never asks for anything in return. You're not quite sure what to do, not sure you want to, not sure you could make him feel good if you did.

He taps your lips once more, "Open." His voice is gruff, he looks like he's barely restraining himself. You open hesitantly, but he's pushing his way in before your ready. You moan around him in protest, hands shooting up to push against his thighs, to no avail.

He's using his grip on your hair to make you bob around him, your tongue wrapping around the underside of his cock almost instinctionally. His head in thrown back, his chest rising and falling in rapid pants. "Fuck, pretty girl, I always knew your mouth would feel like heaven." He's jutting into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, making tears well in your eyes as you gag around him.

He keeps at this, holding you in place until he find his release. He lets go of your hair, moving both his hands to hold your face in place as he fucks the last few thrusts roughly into your throat. Your nails claw into his thighs at the assault. He doesn't pull all the way out, forcing you to swallow his load, the salty flavor settling, not nearly as bad as you would have imagined... almost pleasant.

He pulls you up, peppering kisses on your face. "You did so good, my sweet girl, my lovely wife." You don't know what to say but you feel an odd sense of pride, having made him feel so good, having made him come undone as he has you so many times before.

"Do you want me to touch you?" He's nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin. You hum in response, "Please husband." You can feel him smile against you, one hand grips your hips and the other trails up and down your spine.

"Good start, my love. But I know you can beg a little better than that." He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. "Do you remember how you begged me not to out Sebastian, you almost got down on your knees, you were on the verge of tears, begging me, it was so pretty, you were so pretty. I used to touch myself every night to the way you sounded that day." He chuckles, "Ominis, Ominis, please, I'm begging you Ominis, please. Fuck I can never forget how you sounded." He groans.

"Be a good girl and do it again. Beg me to touch you." Your face flushes, a mixture of anger at him for bringing up that situation, embarrassment at his mockery, plus an overall heat radiating through your body at his confession and demand.

You don't give in at first, you need not be at two men's mercy, allowing two men to abuse your body in such a way. But Ominis' hand shoots out, wrapping around your throat, your breath catches, unable to successfully suck in another. "P-lease." The word is rough and broken. "Atta girl." His grip loosens and you suck in a greedy breath but he doesn't let go all the way, "Go on, love, beg."

"Please husband." Your tone is soft, low, testing the waters. Ominis says nothing. "Please, Ominis..." You debate, will you really lower yourself to this, begging your own husband to have sex with you? But he struck you, forced his cock down your throat without permission and you still stand here, aching to feel his long slender finger burry themselves inside you. You need it and you will grovel to get it.

"Please touch me, please husband, I'm burning up, I feel as though I will combust if you do not touch me soon. I need to feel you inside me, please Ominis." He moans, actually moans at your words alone and without missing a beat his hand is between your legs.

"Fuck." He groans, leaning in to nip at your neck, "You're so wet, pretty girl." He run a finger between your lips, gathering the fuilds with his fingers, bringing it back up to circle your clit. You buck at the contract, electricity coursing through your veins as his slender fingers circle delicately, the pace and pressure teasing.

"Is this what you want, wife?" You grab his hand, trying to force him to put more pressure, how you like it, how he knows you like it, what will make you come undone in a matter of minutes. But he only tsks at you catching your hand with his free one, pulling it away as he continues his teasing ministrations.

"Yes, husband, yes, please" You whine, moving to grip his shoulders for balance. At your surrender, Ominis moves his free hand back to your hips, holding you in place.

"Did you beg Sebastian like this?" He doesn't stop touching you, "Did he make you this wet?" The teasing is becoming too much, you really do feel like you'll combust, "Does he know how to touch you just the way you like?" His fingers adds more pressure, pace quicking and in mere moments you're putty in his arms. Body tensing and convulsing against him as his strength only is the only thing to keep you upright.

His free arm wraps protectively around your waist, his other collects your juices, giving one final swipe over your clit that makes you jump in hypersensitivity. He brings the his wet fingers to your mouth, forcing them in with little resistance. "Do you taste that, pretty girl?" You hum around him.

"I did that to you. Not Sebastian. Me, your husband. This," his arm slides from your waist down to your bottom, grabbing the flesh roughly, "is mine. You are mine." He pulls his fingers free of your mouth with a pop, a thin string of saliva still connecting you two.

Before you can prepare yourself, Ominis' hand is back between your legs, three fingers buried deep inside you, curling at that spongy spot that makes you jump, that spot he always knows how to hit.

"This." Another curl of his slender fingers, "is mine. Only I get to touch this, taste it. Do you understand, wife?" That sensations is building in the pit of your stomach for a second time, it's too much you think, you always stop after the first one, he never pushes you further. You try to shove at his chest, he doesn't budge, but it's more so that your arms are too weak to actually push.

"Who do you belong to, my love?" You're so close, you can feel your resolve snapping like an old rope, string by tedious string. He stopped when you don't respond and you cry out in protest, trying to rock your hips against his still fingers. "Who do you belong to?"

"You, Ominis, I belong to you, my husband, my beloved. Fuck, please, I'm so close, please Om" His pace is punishing and in all of three strokes you feel the coil snap, see white behind your. You hold onto Ominis, trying to ground yourself to this reality as his fingers continue, drawing out your orgasm.

You couldn't stand if you tried, couldn't move a single muscle. But Ominis isn't done with you yet, no, his plan is to break you. You are his, only his, today is the day you finally get that lesson through your thick skull. He picks you up, carrying you in his arms to your shared bed.

He lays you down and you give an appreciative moan, your bed is so soft, familiar and welcoming. It smells like him you realize in your haze, you've never stopped to notice how his scent clings to everything in this house. How his scent gives you a feeling of safety, of home.

Ominis lines himself up with your entrance while you aren't paying attention, half gone nuzzling your face into the comforter. You moan at the intrusion, a mix of pain and pleasure and total oversimulation. You screw your eyes shut, trying to adjust to him inside you.

"Over my dead fucking body." Ominis grabs your face, forcing you to look at him. "Keep your eyes open, I want you to watch me, look at my face as I fuck you. Remember who's cock it is that's inside you." You nod, or you think you did, your body is so heavy, so far out of your control. All that exists is the overwhelming pleasure and Ominis face.

Ominis, you watch as his jaw clenchs, his head falling into your chest before picking back up just so you can see him, his brows scrunch together in pleasure, his eyes screwing shut. His hold on your waist is brusing as his hips jut against yours. Once again your struck by how beautiful he his, how consumed he is by you. You feel that pride again. You make him feel like that, why has it taken you so long to see it.

You reach a hand up, just as his trusts become erratic, your own body falling in sync with his, you pulls his face down just just enough to let your lips meet his in a ghost of a kiss. You finish for the third time this morning just as you feel him shoot his load inside you, he pulls you up holding you tighter against him, burying his face in your chest as he rides out his orgasm.

You rest your head on top of his, running a near limp hand softly through his blonde hair. "I-" the word catches in your throat, "I love you, Ominis."

He pulls away at that, bringing you into a gentle kiss. "I knew you would. I knew it. That's why I had to get rid of Sebastian. My wife, my love, you're mine."

[darkestspring]

Hello. Can you write for Dark Platonic Father!Maegor Targaryen x Daughter Reader?

one word. oof.

You're the only child of maegor, so of course he's going to be overprotective of his daughter.

maegor would most likely be distrustful of everyone when it comes to her, he'd even criticize the way his daughter's mother cares for her and eventually only he would be allowed to care for her once she got to the toddler stage. Only him and his mother are allowed to see her.

he distrusts his wives greatly and refuses to allow them to be near his daughter. he'll leave his daughter's care to his mother and if he catches his wives with his daughter, he'll punish them harshly.

growing up, maegor favored you greatly above everyone else and he would not hesitate to give you everything he could. jewels, books, daggers, swords, dresses, etc. whatever you desired was yours.

maegor most likely keeps you near him at all times and acts as your father, biggest supporter, and guard all in one. like is aid, he doesn't trust anyone with your safety, not even guards.

the only other person allowed near you is his mother, he won't even let his father near you if he's still alive.

he gets you all of the best lady's in waiting but they have go through at least a week of vetting and three days on interrogation before they can tend to you.

my personal headcanon but I think maegor would give his daughter the nickname of little dragon, along with little heart and dragon's heart.

super overprotective, do not recommend to mess with at all.

rip to ALL of your potential suitors.

[crazyunsexycool]

A love as sweet as honey

Chapter 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 4.1K

Warnings: Some fluff I guess, angst, Steve being 🙁, reader's family.

A/N: So here we go with chapter 1 for this series. So this is set three months after the semi ending of My little love so I'm keeping some aspects of that series that are mentioned in this chapter vague. We are going straight into Honey's family and they are the worst. I kind of wanted to show the difference in Steve and Honey's worlds. I really hope you like it. Also kind of nervous for this chapter...

If you're reading this or come across my series for the first time, I do recommend reading My Little Love first because characters from that series will play a big roll in this one.

Series Masterlist

You glared at the messages popping up on your phone. It was bad enough that both Bruce and Tony forced you out of your lab in order for you to get some rest, now you had to evade your family. They had persistently called and messaged you about the weekly family dinners. The thing was you hated those gatherings. It was just your father, your two brothers and their wives. Even though you were family you had nothing in common with them, so having to endure their company for an evening was dreadful. It wasn’t like they liked you anyway so you didn’t understand why your presence was required. You much preferred to be in your lab working on one project or another. Watching paint dry was preferable to Sunday night dinner with those snakes. 

“I hope you don’t glare at my messages like that.” Steve’s voice broke you out of your thoughts but you still scowled in his direction. He just chuckled in response.

Steve looked so handsome as he made his way towards you. His golden blond hair was slightly disheveled and his workout clothes fit him perfectly. You’d never let on that you were attracted to him. It still baffles you that he willingly hangs out with you even when you don’t make it easy to be your friend. Although it’s mostly during work hours, which is almost always, or the few parties you’d been dragged to. His presence is soothing and it bothers you that he can ease you out of your bad moods without much resistance.

“Depends on what you messaged me about.” You watched as he took a seat on the bench next to you. “Did the science bros send you?” 

“Science bros?”

“Yeah, Stark and Banner. They kicked me out of my lab. Said I needed to rest.” 

“Can you blame them? Especially after that whole issue with Lottie forcing half the medbay staff to come to your aid because she saw you unconscious in a vision?”

“I just fell asleep.” You grumbled as you turned to watch other employees go about their day. Thinking back on it, the situation was now slightly funny. Although poor Charlotte was incredibly worried about you. 

“Yeah well, everyone needs to rest.” 

You give Steve a sideways glance and frown. “Remember this conversation when you go on back to back missions.” 

Steve gives you a lopsided grin. It made you swoon which forced you to be very self conscious of your staring.

“What are you still doing here anyway?” 

“I’m resting.” 

Steve bent forward and turned his head to get a better look at you when you turned away from him. His eyes squinted in suspicion but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. It was overwhelming to have all of his attention sometimes. To have anyone’s attention on you at all made you uncomfortable but to have Steve was something else. He always managed to make you feel something other than annoyed. You were baffled by how easily he did that. 

“Stop staring you weirdo.” You mumbled. Steve chuckles but doesn’t take his eyes off you. 

“You don’t really believe you’ll get away with trying to go back up to your lab when you didn’t go home to rest, do you?” 

You sigh and your shoulders slump. Steve’s eyes drift down to your pouting lips and for a second he thinks he could kiss that pout away. That’s how it had been since he met you. The attraction was almost immediate and you seemed to always have a pout on those pretty lips of yours.

“I’m just so tired. I don’t want to drive.” 

“I could take you if you’d like.” 

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.” 

“I’m offering. But if you don’t like that then you should really reconsider taking one of the empty apartments.” 

He’s right. Some of the apartments have been empty for a while and one had even been offered to you. You just weren’t sure how you felt about living in the compound. 

“Just imagine, you maybe can’t sleep and you get an idea. You don't have to wait until the next day to come in. All you have to do is walk across the building and you’re at work.” Steve offers. 

“Enticing but also I like to separate my personal life from my work life.” 

Steve shrugs and gets up. “Still, think about it. I have to go but text me when you get home so that I know you’re safe.” 

“You care too much.” 

“Can’t blame a guy for caring for his friends.” He says before starting to walk away.

“Wait, we’re friends? I didn’t agree to that.” You joke. 

Steve turns around and walks backwards and raises an eyebrow in your direction. You give a small smile in return. 

“Go home.” 

You roll your eyes in response before he waves and walks away to do whatever it is he did. With a sigh you get up and head to your car. There was no way you’d even be able to get into your office so you actually went home. 

Steve had an open invitation into the Barnes home. He was there all the time. His best friends’ home had warmth and laughter and love. It was all of the things he craved. 

When he was first woken up from the ice and realized that he was no longer in the 1940s, Steve decided that the man that wanted a family and love died the day the plane went down. Instead he found solace in fighting alongside the Avengers and his friendships. He was closest to Mrs. Barnes or how he affectionately called her, Magnet. They’d been working side by side since he’d moved to D.C. their friendship bloomed and now they were more like siblings.

 The only thing Steve envied was his best friends’ relationship. From his point of view they had everything, all more than well deserved of course. He was more than happy that after being tortured and used by Hydra, Bucky was able to find happiness even when he found out he had children. Steve wanted that. He wanted his kids to grow up with the Barnes kids and that they be best friends the way he and Bucky were growing up. He never voiced it of course but Mrs. B could read him like a book. So when he walked into the always busy house he knew he’d be asked something.

“What’s wrong?” Mrs. B asked the minute she looked up at him. She was rocking the youngest Barnes in her arms. The newest addition to the family and only three months old.

“Nothings wrong.” 

“Steve-“ 

“Steebie.” Charlotte ran out from the playroom down the hall and straight into Steve’s arms. 

“Here’s my best girl.” Steve soaked up all of the love Bucky’s daughter gave him. “How are you sweetheart?” 

“I’m good. Do you wanna play tea pawty?” 

“I would love to. I’ll be there in a minute, ok?” Steve sets Charlotte on the floor and she runs back as she yells that she’ll get the party ready. 

“Steve? Are you sure you’re ok?” 

“I’m fine Magnet.” 

She gives him a sympathetic look. Steve knew that she knew what he was feeling. They’d have long conversations about the thoughts of having families and falling in love. Those conversations seemed so long ago. They were both different people now. Still at its core their friendship remains the same, just like with Bucky. 

“Saw you talking to Y/N earlier.” Bucky says as he walks in from the door that leads to the garage. “You have to ask her out.” 

“Why would I ask her out?”

Steve’s best friends look at each other as if they knew some big secret. Well they did although it wasn’t a secret but something Steve was refusing to acknowledge. 

“Because you like her.” Mrs. B says.

“It’s so obvious that you do.” 

“She’s a friend.” Steve defends himself. 

“I used to look at Sugar that way. Still do.” 

“Aaww baby. That’s so cute.” 

Bucky sends a wink in his wife’s direction. It was so cute it made Steve sick sometimes. Again he was happy for them but he wanted that too. Steve was ashamed of the envy he felt sometimes.

“That would be like me asking you out, Magnet.” 

“Eeww.” She scrunched her face and Steve was taken aback by the instant reaction. Then she laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just I see you as family so the thought of dating you is weird.” 

“Exactly my point. Asking her out would be like that for me.” 

Bucky looked at Steve with disbelief. “I know you’re stubborn but this is a whole different level.” 

“Give him a break baby. It’s not like you asked me out when you realized you liked me.” 

Bucky had sat down by his wife and took their youngest child in his arms. He smiled and cooed at his baby before looking up at Steve. 

“Just think about it and once you admit that you like her, ask her out.” Bucky said and Mrs. B nodded in agreement. 

“Steebie, tea pawty is weady.” 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a very important tea party to attend.” 

“Are you staying for dinner?” His best friend asked over her shoulder. 

“If it’s not too much trouble.” 

“Never.” 

**** 

Lottie poured nonexistent tea into Steve’s plastic teacup. She had immediately draped him with fake jewelry, clip on earrings and placed a plastic crown on his head. Steve then sat on the floor at the table the kids had in their playroom. Henry had been playing with legos in the corner and started giggling at the sight before him. He stopped laughing when a plastic tiara was placed on his head and he had to sit at the table too. Across from Henry sat a Lottie’s beloved pink teddy bear.

“So then the ogre tries to stomp on all of the King’s knights.” Steve was telling the kids about the last mission he’d been on. He made it seem like a fairytale though and the kids were hooked. 

“Oh no.” Lottie whispered. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart. The king’s knights were ready and they had a dragon.”

“What? No way.” Henry exclaimed, hanging on every word. 

“Yes way. The dragon came down from the sky and with his magic powers and BOOM! The ogre didn’t stand a chance.” 

Lottie has a hand on her chest while pretending to sip tea. Henry resting his head on his hand while waiting for Steve to continue. 

“All of the other knights joined the dragon in fighting the ogre’s henchmen. When they finally finished they got the treasure and that treasure helped a lot of village people.” Steve finishes. 

“I wanna be a dragon when I grow up so that I can help people.” 

“Yeah me too.” Lottie agrees with her brother. 

“Dinner’s ready.” 

“Alright, you heard your mom let’s go wash up.” Steve says as he gets up and starts taking all of the accessories off.

“Steebie will you sit with me?” 

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” Steve grabs Lottie and throws her over his shoulder before he reaches for Henry and does the same. They’re both laughing and kicking. “But first we wash our hands.” 

Steve can’t help but smile. The ache that sits heavy in his chest from wanting this life dulls while he sits amongst his friends. Their conversation distracts him from the loneliness he’ll find once he goes back to his apartment.

You’d gone straight to bed once you’d made it home. There was nothing else for you to really do so taking a nap seemed the best option. You’d taken off everything but your panties and plopped down right in the middle of the bed. Tony and Bruce had been right. You did need to sleep, you’d never admit it to them though. Just as you were drifting off to dreamland, obnoxious knocking pulled you away. You grabbed the robe that had been hanging over unpacked boxes and put it on, tying it while walking to your door. 

You’d never bothered unpacking because you move so much. So you zigzagged through all of the boxes holding your personal things in order to get to the front door. Before opening the door you looked through the peephole and froze at the sight of who was at the other side. But that feeling of dread turned into anger as you yanked the door open, startling the three women on the other side. 

“What?” You snapped, your tone harsh and unwelcoming. 

The last thing you were expecting was to see your stepmother and sisters-in-law at your apartment. Especially since you never gave them your address. Your stepmother being front and center schooled her expression first. 

“Now is that anyway to answer the door? I’ve taught you better than that.” She admonishes. 

Rose came into your life when you were a baby. She’s the only maternal figure you’d ever known. You hated her. She was your father’s lapdog and a snitch. The moment you were able to leave his house you did. You tried to be around them as little as possible. Somehow they always managed to drag you back in.

You sisters-in-law were no better. Elizabeth was married to your older brother Richard. Alice was married to your younger brother Charles. They were the picture perfect family. The men ran the family and the women well, they did as they were told. They were the perfect stepford wives and then there was you. 

In their eyes you were the rebellious middle child. The one who they said couldn’t just sit down and do as you were told. You just had to question everything and fight back. It didn’t matter that at 18 you left your father’s home and never lived there again. He wanted to control you because he had an image to maintain. And if he had someone track you down that meant he needed something.

“Well aren’t you going to invite us in?” Rose asked as she tried to look over your shoulder. The only thing she could see was the hallway.

“No. Because I didn’t invite you. As a matter of fact I never even gave any of you my address so I don’t know why you’re here.” 

“We’ve called and texted you multiple times and you haven’t answered..” Alice said. “We were worried.”

“No you weren’t. Besides I have nothing to say to any of you. If I wanted to have any sort of relationship with you I’d answer. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” 

“Y/N please, we are only doing what’s best for our family and that’s keeping everyone together.” Elizabeth adds. 

You roll your eyes. 

“So what does Conrad want now?” 

“Your father,” Rose says. “Would very much love it if you joined us for dinner tonight.” 

“I don’t give two shits about what he would love. Who is he trying to impress?” 

Rose huffs, annoyance creeping into her normally well composed face. You loved riling her up. 

“It’s not about who he’s trying to impress, we haven���t seen you in a while. We’d like to catch up.” 

“And we would be catching up in whose presence?” You push for information. 

“A possible investor in his business.” 

“Mmm.” You nod slowly. 

“So you’ll come?” 

“Nope.” 

“I wasn’t giving you a choice. We’ll stand out here until you’re ready.” 

“I’ll call the cops on you if you don’t leave.” 

You saw the flash of red hot anger flash in Rose’s dark brown eyes. She placed her hand on the door and leaned in to be as close to your face as possible. 

“Remember what happened the last time you tried that.” The threat was there and it all but crumbled the bit of resistance you had against them. 

You blinked back tears as memories rushed to the forefront of your mind. Suddenly you weren’t the person you’d worked so hard to become, you were the little girl that had been neglected her whole life. And that little girl did as she was told if she knew what was good for her. 

“I’ll give you thirty minutes. We’ll wait out here.” Rose had straightened her posture and fell back into the loving wife and mother character she’d perfectly crafted.

You sat quietly in the dining room of the family home. Conrad Bramford, your father, sat at the head of the table. Rose was to his right, your older brother and his wife to his left. That left Charles your younger brother sitting next to his mother and his wife next to you. At the other end of the table, and closest to you, was the investor your father was trying to impress Ezekiel Stane.

“I’m so glad you decided to come.” Alice leaned in and whispered. 

“I didn’t decide, I was forced too. Why do you even give a shit?” 

Alice patted your forearm and smiled as if you were the best of friends and were up to no good. 

“You’re so bad.” She giggled. 

It dawned on you that she really thought you were friends or worse that you were like those families where the in-laws saw each other as actual siblings. 

“Oh you sweet summer’s child.” You murmured. 

“Come on, these dinners aren’t so bad. I mean we’re your family. It’s nice that we get to spend time together.”

“Alice, I’m going to be very clear because you seem like a nice person. I hate every single person sitting at this table.” 

Her smile drops just a little. “But you don’t know me or Elizabeth.” She mumbles. “You should give us a chance.” 

“You’re married to my brother, that’s all I need to know. Besides you've only been married what, a few months?” 

She nods.

“Maybe we can get together on your wedding anniversary and you can tell me how much you still love this family.” You give her a tight lipped smile. 

“Well on our anniversary we’ll be celebrating but I’ll still accept that invitation to talk.” Alice smiles again. 

“So Ms. Bramford. I heard that you work in the science field. How is that working out for you?” Ezekiel asked, pulling your attention away from Alice.

He was handsome with blue eyes and chestnut colored hair. He was tall, fit but not too muscular. 

“It’s great. I really love what I do.” 

“Which is?” 

“Research.” 

Ezekiel put on his most charming smile but it felt off putting. Although him willingly spending time with your father should have been the first sign that he wasn’t a great person. 

“What kind of research?” He asks.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss.” 

“Because she isn’t important enough to know.” Charles said, getting a laugh out of everyone at the table, except for you, Mr. Stane and surprisingly, Alice. She just gave you an apologetic look.

“Forgive us Mr. Stane, it’s just an inside joke.” Richard, your older brother, says with a chuckle. 

“Last time I checked a joke is supposed to be funny. Also might I remind you that I work outside of our father’s company so that I can have my independence. Tell me Dick, what is it that you do?” You stare at him expectantly. “Oh that’s right, you’re too busy kissing his ass to actually have a job.” 

There were gasps all around the table as you stood suddenly. The chair you had been sitting in, scraping along the floor before falling over. 

“Sit back down and apologize, you ungrateful brat.” Your father slammed a fist down on the table causing the plates, glasses and cutlery to clatter together.

“I won’t apologize, I don't want to be here in the first place. I‘ll be leaving now. Let’s do this again, never.” You say and start heading toward the living room where your purse was.

You fiddled with your pearl necklace as you raced through the hallway. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. 

“Well I don’t remember seeing anyone as pretty as you in a long time.” The deep voice froze you in place just as you reached the living room. 

You turn around to find Rose’s brother at the drink cart. His eyes rake your body and you shudder. You turn and grab your belongings and quickly turn towards the door.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving so soon? I was hoping we could catch up. You can tell me where you’ve been hiding.”

“Eat dirt and die, asshole.” You say before exiting into the hallway. 

You’d made it to the door just as your father stepped into the hallway. He called your name and a few other choice words but you were already running down the steps towards your car. You managed to lock yourself in and speed away to be as far from this place as possible before he could get to you.

Your phone had been buzzing nonstop from everyone in your family trying to call or text you. It got to the point that you had to shut it off because it was too much. When you finally make it home you take a shower to hopefully rid yourself of the crawling sensation you get from being back at the family home. 

After a lot of pacing and debating you send an email to Tony and wait. It takes about a minute but you get an answer. Even though it was around three in the morning. Now you can breathe slightly easier but your whole body is thrumming with adrenaline and now it is slowly starting to calm down but your hands are shaking. You would spend the rest of the night going over everything that happened that day until you finally passed out.

Steve had checked his phone a ridiculous amount of times. He even got teased for it by his best friends. But he was genuinely worried because he never received a text from you. He was restless wondering if he should reach out to you or not. Reluctantly he opted for the latter as he opened the door to his apartment where he was met with movers. They were taking things into the apartment across from his which belonged to Bucky when he first moved into the compound. He’d forgotten that someone was moving in and that he’d finally have a neighbor again. 

“Hey Rogers.” You said quietly as you made your way from down the hallway where the elevators were. 

“Hey Y/L/N. What are you doing here so early? And in the residential area. I thought you hated this part of the compound.” 

Steve was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“I used to but considering this is my new place, I thought I’d have to get used to it.” 

Steve’s face lit up at the new piece of information. He even stands up straight and watches as the movers take in a few more mixes in. 

“So you’re the one Tony told me was moving in a few weeks ago.” 

You shake your head. “No, I asked him last night if the offer was still good and he said yes. Although I feel bad that the person taking this spot is being moved. I think he said it was Sharon? She was supposed to move here but she’s still out of the country for a few weeks and this apartment is ready so he let me have it.” You look up at him and then at the apartment you’d be living in. 

“Wait so this was a last minute decision but you had your things packed already?” 

“Well I was going to be moving closer to the compound anyway. I just decided that I would prefer my apartment to have security guards at the entrance.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed at that. “Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?” 

You saw the muscle in his jaw tick. 

“It’s a long story and I’d rather not talk about it.” You moved toward the door of your new apartment.

“Wait, if someone did something to you I’ll help you. They shouldn’t get away with whatever they did.” 

You look at him thoughtfully for a moment. “I wish I would have met you a long time ago, Rogers. Maybe you could have saved me then.” You gave him a sad smile. “I’m gonna get settled but maybe we should have a movie night or something soon. We can even do it at my place since you know where I live now.” 

Steve smiles but you could still see the worry in his eyes. 

“I’ll let you go, Steve.” 

“I’m here for whatever you need, ok?” 

“Thanks, I’ll see you later?” 

“Absolutely, neighbor.” Steve grins. 

“Ugh, don’t make me regret it.” 

“It’ll be the best choice you ever made.” He says confidently. 

Truer words have never been spoken. You just didn’t know it yet.

Ch. 2

Permanent taglist:

@rebekahdawkins

@cjand10 

@nalny5 

@Sturchling 

@angywritesstuff 

@seitmai

@writing-for-marvel

@goldylions 

@almosttoopizza 

@littleseasiren 

@pono-pura-vida

@talesofadragon

@midnightramyeoncravings

@bunnygirlwriter876

@pandaxnieenke

@kandis-mom

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@braveclementine

Series taglist:

@ozwriterchick

@nekoannie-chan

@5upersoldiers1xt

@buckystevelove

@pumpkin-babydoll

@haruvalentine4321

@rebeccapineapple

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

@capswife

@vicmc624

[agentrouka-blog]

Accidentally stumbled into a Sansa anti (well they call themselves an Arya stan but they apparently think those things go hand in hand)blog and am now baffled and a little disgusted at the amount of vitriol these people have for..a little girl, honestly they had reblogged a post about how Arya being believed to be a hostage to Ramsay galvanised so many people in the North, etc and the difference between that and Sansa being the Lannisters hostage/Tyrions bride, and like..so this little girls life being worthless to these men (whether that's true or not) is somehow validation for you? Honestly it's a little disturbing (there's also a pattern of most of them hating Alicent as well which seems..meaningful)

Ah, yes, the fantasy that they have that the North uniquely loves Arya and somehow instinctively rejects Sansa, and that this would be a good thing rather than screaming misogyny. 😊

There's exactly one group in the North agitating for Ned Stark's daughter herself (the one within reach of them, mind) and that's the mountain clans, for two reason:

Distant family loyalty, alongside Stark loyalty. (A Liddle also aids Bran in the mountains.)

A culture that encourages them to seek death, not survival, at this particular time where Stannis comes knocking.

His father's mother's mother had been a Flint of the mountains. Old Nan once said that it was her blood in him that made Bran such a fool for climbing before his fall.  (ASOS, Bran ll)

It was a tale that any northmen knew well. "My father's grandmother was a Flint of the mountains, on his mother's side," Jon told her. "The First Flints, they call themselves. They say the other Flints are the blood of younger sons, who had to leave the mountains to find food and land and wives. It has always been a harsh life up there. When the snows fall and food grows scarce, their young must travel to the winter town or take service at one castle or the other. The old men gather up what strength remains in them and announce that they are going hunting. Some are found come spring. More are never seen again." (ADWD, Jon X)

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned's little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue." (ADWD, The King's Prize)

Let's not overtly romanticize the North. Manderly's money is on Rickon the son. There's a sizable faction actually supporting the Boltons (Dustin/Ryswell and Karstark). No one lifts a single finger for "Arya" until Jon gives Stannis the advice to gather support in the mountains with his army, and those are the ones with comparatively little to do but die and "bathe in Bolton blood".

The main aspect here is opportunity v. cost.

But more to the point, just as you point out, if it was Sansa that Jeyne was pretending to be, it would be the same. It's not the girls (within their actual reach) they specifically care for, it's Ned and House Stark.

The specific (small) subset of Sansa Anti/Arya stan that pushes these takes is, indeed, less interested in Arya, the actual books and the political dynamics therein, than they are in a distorted Cinderella fantasy where Arya is uniquely chosen and loved over Sansa. The rejection of Sansa is as central to that fantasy as the elevation of Arya, because the Mean Girl needs to be vanquished and punished in order to destroy the very notion in the world that Their Projection Surface was ever not The Prettiest And Bestest, deprived of the admiration she rightfully deserved by the cruel machinations of a middleschool bully.

You know, that's the complex philosophical, political and literary themes and interpersonal dynamics that GRRM is known for. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[vxsellie]

okay so i talk abt loving hozier all the time but i never rlly delve into how fucking significant his music is. and i think, in light of the recent election, it’s time to do so

so here’s my analysis on hozier’s song “swan upon leda”

(ignore if some things are worded weirdly, this was initially written for my sister & my sister only. so it might seem like i’m talking to u as a friend, that’s why!) also if there are any inaccuracies in the myths' interpretations, PLEASE lmk!

anyway here it is!!!

So, before we get into the lyrics themselves let’s take a little peeksie at the song’s background!

Not only is this one of his most political works, but it was also published three years after he literally ghosted the world. And that only makes its debut so much more significant seeing as he’d taken the time to make sure he’d have everyone’s attention when releasing it.

Also, the title is so so so fucking important to take into account when studying this piece of fucking ART. It’s based off of the Greek myth ‘Leda and the Swan’. In this tale, Zeus is heavily attracted to a woman named Leda and transforms her into a swan before raping and impregnating her.

In turn, Hozier connects this story (and also the overarching theme of Zeus being the most powerful god despite being a rapist and child predator COUGHTRUMPCOUGH) to the way women are denied their reproductive rights & how these horrid occurrences effect all of those involved, not just the woman who bears the burden.

A husband waits outside A crying child pushes a child Into the night She was told he would come this time

He paints a picture here, putting an unnamed protagonist into a modern-day tale of patriarchally inflicted torment. The waiting husband symbolizes Zeus in the ancient context as well as an unnamed rapist in modern context. He waits and waits, never acting. He stands outside, so very close to where the problem lies and yet does nothing.

The crying child is inspired by Leda & made into the song’s protagonist, depicted as underage and therefore not able to give her full consent to this outcome. The child she pushes is the one that had been forced upon her, it going into the night symbolizing an untold future. Something she hadn’t asked for and yet is thrusted into doing. Her fear means nothing to the waiting husband & means even less to society as a whole. So, she does it scared. She does it with tears streaming down her face because deep, deep down she knows she has nobody to aid her in this despite having been promised to have help; having been promised that he would come this time.

Without leaving so much as a feather behind To enact, at last, the perfect plan

This illustrates the parallelism of Leda having been turned to a swan and the unnamed child having been forced into the life of a mother. Not leaving a feather behind, to Leda, represents the lack of proof she’d had to Zeus’s cruelty. He’d simply found her, transformed her, impregnated, transformed her back, and left. Now, had a feather been left, she’d have had proof. She’d have been believed. But that kind of miracle never happens for rape victims, now does it? No, instead she was forced to carry a ton more children by a husband that didn’t believe that she’d been raped by Zeus. This, in many ways, connects to real day occurrences that I don’t believe I need to digress on each individually. Though, I happily would if it proves my point mores.

The perfect plan he speaks of is the men getting away with it. In every tale, in every real-time situation, the men get away. They get what they want from the woman, leave her (and their newly formed fetus) to rot, and leave to return to their wives. The perfect plan, is it not?

The gateway to the world Was still outside of reach of him Would never belong to angels, Had never belonged to men.

This. This is why I love Andrew Hozier-Byrne, ladies and gentlemen.

As he speaks of a “gateway to the world”, he’s referring to childbirth. To bring a child into the world is a gateway, correct? It’s a bit of inexplicable divinity, pregnancy. To create an entire being with naught but your own bodily organs and cells? Those of which had been made by a woman before you? Yeah, it’s pretty fucking insane to me. Anyway.

Okay back on topic. The point is, this amazing occurrence he discusses is said to still out of reach to “him”. This unnamed male figure can be both Zeus in the myth or the husband in the modern altercation. This means that, despite them having forced themselves upon these beautiful souls, they haven’t a say in gateway. They don’t have a single fucking important role to play in the birth itself. They’re just the sperm.

And then Hozier goes even further. Not only does he say that the rapists are unfit for the sanctitude of childbirth, but heaven itself is unfit. The angels up above. Zeus. God. Whatever religious aspect you want to praise; it doesn’t hold a candle to the divinity that is a woman. As are the men. All men. Mankind itself, if you will. Regardless of your role or title or holiness, you’re all fucking useless when it comes to the sacred act of conceiving, creating, then bearing another human.

After the first chorus, the image alters to another scenario:

A grandmother smuggling meds Past where the god-child soldier, Setanta, stood dead Our graceful turner of heads Weaves through the checkpoints like a needle and thread

This shows a grandmother stealing medicine for an abortion, likely for a daughter or granddaughter. This shows the generational struggle to make the right choice. As it feels both revolutionary and also something she’d been doing her whole life. Fighting for rights.

Now, Setanta, as referred to in the song, is based off of an Irish myth. In this myth, Setanta is the name of a child who had killed Culann’s guard dog in self-defense and therefore felt guilty. In a fit of grief for the life he’d stolen, Setanta offered to take its place and thereby became known as the “Hound of Culann”. His story is actually really interesting to read about, but I won’t go into too much detail on every depicted myth. As Hozier refers to the checkpoint soldiers as Setanta, he claims they’d “stood dead” at their watch — which goes to show that these soldiers are young (as Setanta had been) and he therefore protests against the way they’re surrendering their full lives to this ruined system of oppression that they enforce.

Someone’s frightened boy waves her on She offers a mother’s smile, and soon she’s gone. The gateway to the world The gun in a trembling hand

This right here is absolutely fucking amazing. Hozier connects both oppressor and oppressed, humanizing the grandmother to be retrieving meds for an unplanned pregnancy & also personifying the young boy as someone’s child who needed something so simple as a mother’s kindness to keep him going.

The way he does this goes to show what a talented person he is. Being able to make your audience sympathize with both the boy and the grandma is fucking magic. Rather than making the soldiers wholly evil and merciless, he made them children. The same children the lady is trying to prevent bringing into this world.

When nature unmakes the boundary The pillar of myth still stands The swan upon Leda Occupier upon ancient land

While the first chorus is a reminder of childbirth’s right to be protected and not put in the hands of religion or men, the second chorus ties it all together by showing the repetition in history and how it’s bound to repeat itself so long as man remains lustful for power. This shows that greed and brutality is an undeniable way to keep this horrid pattern living on. He laments that nature did not intend to have one rule over another (men over women; society over youth). And yet, somehow, it’ll forever remain unavoidable.

The pillar of myth still stands. That crumbling foundation it had been built o remains, standing tall as more and more men come to repeat it. And, in all honesty, I doubt it’ll ever end. The child will continue to push the child. The husband will continue to wait. The grandmother will continue to smuggle her rights. The boy will continue to tremble. And mother nature will continue to watch with a frown on her face as mankind sets more pillars atop her divinity.

All in all, Hozier is awesome sauce!!!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bright Eyes | 2

Part 1 2 3

Prince Aemond's marriage was borne out of necessity and political advantage. Let it never be said that he did not know duty, for duty was what kept Aemond Targaryen grounded. But in truth, the prince felt cheated by the match, for he felt his wife was getting scraps as her dowry. After all, she was chosen for him because of her family's wealth and resources. It was then rather scandalous when the icy prince became temperate to his bride.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, arranged marriage au, reluctant lovers ig, angst, family problems, typos, etc.

A/N: i'm finally posting the next parts because I finally finished p3 T_T HAHA This is part of the 'house of the dragon big bang celebration' that's also available on AO3 and my art was made by @ewanmitchellcrumbs <;3 yuh

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

I rap on Aemond's office door and rub my hands together as I wait.

"Enter."

I turn the knob and walk inside, "lord-husband."

Aemond lifts his gaze from his table. He spares me a second glance and turns back to his papers, "mmm."

I make my way towards him, hands clasped together in front of me. I stand there for a second, craning my neck to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. I could not make out his task and so I keep my silence, waiting for him to finish.

"Speak," he urges impatiently.

I flinch.

He apparently does not like that.

Aemond does not lift his gaze from documents.

I clear my throat, "I wanted to tell you that my mother and aunt will be visiting."

His brows furrow. He turns to me, "again?"

I lick my lips and rest my hands by my belly, "they've sent a raven. They are to bring me herbs to aid with conception, amongst other things. I suspect they wish to give me a lesson on mothering as well."

"Mothering?" Aemond's expression turns sour, "why in gods' name will they come here to do that?"

I purse my lips before answering, "it's been a month since we've wed. They were rather disappointed to know of the arrival of my womanly bleeding, and so they wish to help."

"And will they put a babe in you, wife?" Aemond raises a brow.

I turn to my feet then back to him, "they are concerned for me, my prince."

"Their concern is overbearing. They were here seven days ago," he gathers the papers and places them in a leather folder. He then stores the folder in his cabinet, "before they've even settled back in their houses, they've come again."

I release a breath and rub the back of my arm. That was the truth, plainly spoken. Still, I did not want to speak against my mother or aunt, nor did I want to stoke Aemond's annoyance. Instead, I smile and explain, "I will make sure to entertain them so not to interrupt you."

Aemond knits his brows and stands from his chair. The sound of it skidding back makes me cringe. He walks over to me as he says, "I've already been interrupted."

I suddenly feel guilty for bringing this up at this moment.

"When are they coming?"

I take in his annoyed features as he comes to my side. I rock on the soles of my feet and mutter, "later today."

Aemond's lone eye widens, "what?"

"They..." I sigh, "they did not yet leave King's Landing and booked lodging nearby."

Aemond's face falls. He releases an exasperated breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. He gives me a look, "and when did they send a raven?"

"... last night."

Aemond mutters something I've learned to be a curse word in High Valyrian, though I'm not sure exactly what it translates to.

I follow after him when he walks out of the room. I do not say anything, though I was rather agitated because of his reaction.

I wanted to explain to him that my mother and her sister has been this way since I was younger. They needed everything to be perfect, for wives had to be perfect. I grew up trying to uphold their standards, so the idea that I've simultaneously disappointed them to a point where they have to over and do something about it, as well as upset my husband because that they are coming to me, makes me want to retch.

"How long will this mothering lesson take?" Aemond asks.

I rush to his side and give him a look, "if I am careful not to trigger their sermons, an hour or two."

Aemond blows air out of his cheeks, "then I will go for a ride on Vhagar."

I purse my lips at the thought but nod, "I shall see you off."

"As you'd like," he mutters, not once looking at me.

"Aemond."

Aemond and I stop at the end of the hall.

I bow and smile at the man before us, "Lord Hightower."

"Grandsire," Aemond addresses.

Otto looks at the two of us and nods in regard, "I was heading to your office to see what's become of the plans I've entrusted to you."

I turn to Aemond when he does not respond immediately. I watch him purse his lips and huff through his nostrils.

"I'm nearly done. I simply wished to clear my mind a moment and get some fresh air," he motions to me, "my lady-wife is going to see me off on Vhagar."

Otto turns to me.

I offer his grandsire a smile, "he's been working tirelessly as of late. I think it will be good for him to take a break, my lord."

Aemond flattens his lips and nods.

Otto shifts his gaze back to the prince. He nods and gives a smile that does not meet his eyes, "I do hope you enjoy your ride, prince Aemond."

He nods, "thank you, my lord."

With that the two of us walk away.

Aemond sighs, "be sure not to trigger your mother and aunt's--"

We freeze when we hear women's voices laughing and chattering from afar. I turn to Aemond instinctively. He looks at me like he was ready to jump out of the window. My face falls when he actually walks towards the window and opens it. In my panic, I grab his arm and repel his movements, "my prince, please!"

Aemond shoots me a look then turns to his arm. He takes a moment before speaking, "what are you doing?"

I stare at him.

There is a sound of a passing carriage. Aemond's mind click, "I'm not going to jump," he says with annoyance.

Upon hearing this, I release his arm and take a step back from him.

Aemond shakes his head, "do you honestly think I would risk my life merely to avoid those women?"

I press my lips together.

He narrows his one eye, "you are aware I ride Vhagar, the largest dragon in all of the kingdoms."

I nod quickly, "yes. Indeed, my prince-"

"Then why do you insult me by insinuating I would jump out of the window to flee my-"

His words are cut short when he hears voices calling out my name. I stiffen and look over my shoulder. I reach out to Aemond's shoulders, urging him away. I turn to him and mutter, "you should go the other way."

Aemond raises a brow, grumbling, "and why would I do that?"

"You remember last time. They made you come with me to the maester and watch the whole time I was being examined."

"Well," he grunts, "that was a necessary occasion. I would not have known that you have unpleasant reactions to lavender and citrus had I not."

The thought gladdens me for a moment, but then I am overwhelmed by dread when I hear footsteps and louder calls of my name.

Soon enough, my mother and aunt are upon us.

We greet them, they greet us.

I allow them to coddle me then give me backhanded compliments. Aemond watches the whole time, then finally excuses himself, saying he had to attend to his dragon, but the ladies dug their nails into his arm, literally. I watched as the prince was cornered into staying with us. Mentioning that the Queen had endorsed this meeting really tied Aemond's hands behind his back.

Now, we were both imprisoned in the solar, listening to the two matrons muse about things that could help with conception, none of which were methods we had not already heard of from other people.

Aemond tuned out the blabbering, opting to stand by the window, looking out of the keep where he could have been right now had he just jumped from the window.

"And we've bought you some oranges," my mother says.

I watch as she motions to the last pouch on the table that I had not yet opened.

Aemond knits his brows. He remains leaned by the window but averts his attention inside the room.

I straighten from my seat and pour out the contents of the brown bag onto the table. There were various objects before me: teas, herbs, oils, clothes, toys, and now fruit.

I turn to my mother and smile. I say for the twentieth time, "thank you."

"It's all the way from Dorne, niece," my aunt says with a smile, "I saw them in the market and bought some for you. I remembered how it helped me during my time carrying your cousins."

I smile at her, "how kind of you, my lady."

Aemond straightens from his spot as the two older women begin to reminisce. He recognizes the story; it was one they had told the last time they were here. He watches as I smile and nod regardless of this. He wonder how many times this story must have been recounted.

I smile at him when he walks over.

My aunt's story is cut off short when Aemond reaches for a vial on the table. He uncorks it and gives it a whiff. He turns to me, "lilac?"

Before I can respond, my mother does so for me, "lavender."

Aemond turns to her and corks the vial. He places it back on the table and hums, "lavender."

We lock gazes for a second then he walks back to his spot by the window.

A whole hour passes before my mother and aunt leave.

When they do, I am wholeheartedly relieved.

"You're going to eat this?"

I turn to Aemond as he walks over to table and grabs the orange. I spare him a glance and begin to tidy the table, "no."

"Then why did you accept it?"

I knit my brows, "my aunt troubled herself in procuring it. How could I say reject?"

"How could you accept, knowing you body rejects it?" he places the orange down and motions, "and the lavender. From your own mother."

I instinctively take the vial and push it aside with the oranges, "she does not know."

"Then why didn't you tell her? What mother wants to harm her child?"

"She does not want to harm me. She did not harm me," I turn to him, "I'll simply give the oranges and the lavender away. It'll be as though I was never given it."

"But you were," he retorts, "and you did nothing. What if someone had done the same to our child? Would you not say anything then either?"

"That's not the same."

"If you can't protect your body now, how will you protect it when you're carrying my child, or when they are born."

I take in a breath, "evidently, I am unharmed, my prince. And even now you are here also caring for me."

Aemond scoffs, "you think I can coddle you like they do?" He leans down, "I have an entire kingdom to look after, and I do not have time to mother the woman who should be mothering my children."

With that, he pulls back and walks off. I watch him as he heads for the door, "where are you-"

"I wanted to ride Vhagar, and now I will," he mutters just before exiting the room.

I huff and turn my attention back to the table. I tidy everything up and place the oranges and lavender into a separate pouch. I gather everything and head to my chambers.

I stop when I hear my name get called.

I smile at the approaching man and curtsy, "my lord."

Otto walks over to me, brows furrowed, "what is all of that?"

"My mother and aunt brought them for me."

He raises a brow, "have the servants bring them to your room." He immediately calls out to the hall for a servant then turns back to me.

I offer him a smile and thank him.

"Where is your lord-husband?"

"He is... still on dragonback."

Otto looks at the pouches in my hand and takes them from me, "you wouldn't happen to know about the plans I tasked to him. I need them now, finished or not."

"He keeps them in a file in his office, my lord. Did you check?"

Before he replies, a servant girl comes forward. She greets us and Otto immediately hands her the pouches. Once his hands were free, he turns back to me and says, "I did, but I've not the patience nor the time to find which drawer it's stored. If you know where it is, I would appreciate it if you brought it to me."

I bow my head in regard, "of course, Lord Hightower."

Otto nods, "good girl," he walks off, "I trust that you do so in haste."

"Oh, my lord!" I grab one of the pouches from the servant and check its contents.

Otto turns to me.

I hand him the pouch of oranges and lavender, "I cannot have these, so you should have them instead."

The man eyes the pouch and takes it from me. He checks its contents then nods in regard.

I nod back and smile, "I will find your plans at once."

I instruct the servant girl to take my things to my chambers and I head to Aemond's office.

It doesn't take much for me to find the plans Lord Hightower required because I remember where Aemond stored them away.

I glance upon the files and realize it was a list of complaints from lords and what the crown would offer to do for them. Some of the proposals were rather farfetched, some of them were effective but expensive. I take a separate piece of paper and write down some of the solutions I could think of, especially in parts where Aemond did not put anything.

I do so as quickly as possible and head to Otto's office. Before I do, think of leaving a note in case Aemond heads to his office looking for the papers.

When I get to Lord Hightower's office, he was preoccupied with his work so doesn't spare me a glance when I come in. He does mutter a quick thanks when I give him the plans.

Later, when I was about to get ready for bed, Aemond finally comes back. He bursts into the room and immediately barks, "you gave my grandsire the plans?!"

"He asked for them. He said he needed them, finished or no-"

"But they were not finished!"

"They are finished," I correct.

Aemond is about to speak but then he stops himself. He shakes his head, "what?"

"I wrote some alternative plans on a separate piece of paper."

Aemond's eye widens, "you what?"

Before I can explain any further, he is out the door again. I huff and follow after him, "Aemond!"

"You meddled with official business of the crown," he hisses, "and you've posed as me while doing it!"

He quickly makes his way down the hall. I have to sprint to keep up with him and gather my skirts in my hand.

"Grandsire," Aemond calls the moment he opens the office door.

I release a breath and heave through my nostrils, following after my husband as he walks into the room. I watch as Otto barely lifts his eyes from his paper, "yes? Need anything?"

Aemond stops in front of his desk, "the plans. My wife said you asked her to give them to you, finished or not."

"Yes," Otto says simply, "they're here," he flips a page, "well done."

It takes a moment for those words to register, and when they do, Aemond's eye widens. He stands in disbelief.

I look at him and his grandsire. A moment passes and I decide to take his arm, muttering we shouldn't disturb Lord Hightower anymore.

"Wait, the plans were well done?" Aemond asks.

Otto stops what he was doing. He looks at Aemond then sighs, "they were rushed but better than what I've gotten from others."

Aemond's lips part.

Otto raises a brow, "do you expect a prize for it?"

The prince turns to me then back to the man, "I didn't do those pla-"

"Don't be silly!" I cut him off, "you did the plans as well as you could."

Aemond eyes me as I pull him close.

"Prince Aemond attended to a lot of husbandly duties, which was why he had little time to attend to that," I smile, "I am glad to hear that his plans are still well done regardless."

Otto turns to me, Aemond, then his papers, "you should continue to direct your efforts into producing children."

I give a chuckle that no one reciprocates. I tug Aemond back, "good night then, my lord."

Otto hums, once again not sparing us a glance.

I release a sigh once we exit the office.

"What kind of proposals did you give?" Aemond asks.

I turn to him.

I do not get to respond when he presses, "why didn't you let me say it was your doing?"

Though his questioning was rather hostile, I offer him a smile, "they were proposals you would have thought of anyway. Your grandsire was pleased. Why change that?"

Aemond pulls his arm out of my grip. We stop to stare at each other in the middle of the hall.

"Whatever it is you think you're doing-"

"I'm not doing anything besides doing my duty as your wife."

Aemond's jaw hardens. He looks me up and down, "what did you do with the lavender and oranges?"

"I gave them to Lord Hightower."

Aemond furrows his brows. He stares at me for a moment, debating my words as he did, then walks off.

I allow him a few paces head start before following after him.