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thegremlincrowsnest · 4 years ago

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At your service Sir~

Originally posted on AO3 Aizawa/Reader/Hizashi Smut

CW: Aphrodisiacs used, lots of dirty talk, semi plot if you squint, AFAB language to describe reader bits

Hizashi led you to a new room. One you weren’t familiar with. Hizashi would pleasure you in several rooms in the mansion, sometimes with an audience even. But so far, he was the only one to touch you. Yet as he led you to a new luxurious room, you knew this was different. He gave you a new wine, one in which you enjoyed the taste. Without knowing the aphrodisiac, he slipped in. As you laid down on the silk and pillows, you could feel yourself getting hotter and begging for his touch. But he denied you and sat there watching, saying the longer you wait, the better it will be. So while you moaned and begged, Aizawa watched from behind a curtain, waiting and wanting you. Your hair disheveled, on your knees, playing with yourself to try and tempt him. You hear someone behind the curtain, but too far gone to be scared. Besides, Hizashi wouldn’t put you in danger. You continue to “sing” for Hizashi as you edge yourself, wanting to cum only by him. “P-please, Hizashi, I can’t take it anymore~ I feel like I’m burning up.”

“Hey, boss....” He teases as he sips his own wine. “Are you going to leave the dessert I prepared for you to spoil?~” he teases. Which has Aizawa finally step out from the curtain, his robe already looking disheveled as his face is flushed and his breathing struggles to stay steady. “I do like my dishes sweet....and this looks like it qualifies,” he assesses as he walks closer to you in the light. Making eye contact full of desire for you. “Will they take me over you tonight?” He asks. Hizashi chuckles and replies, “Songbird....tell the big boss man how much you’ve wanted him”. Your confused look turns into desire as you sit up, looking into his eyes. “Fuck..” the last of your usual composed and respectful demeanor dissolved as you see the tent in his robe. Slowly crawling towards him, you say, “so bad, sir~ you always look so beautiful in the morning. I just can never decide if I want to lay in the sun with you or beg to suck your cock.”

Kneeling at his feet, you were almost salivating at the small throbbing of his cock. “May I see it, sir? Oh please, I’ll do a good job!” Aizawa enjoys the view; he’s had so many countless sleepless nights over how much he wanted you. This was beautiful, seeing you such a mess kneeling in front of him for his cock. Even if the words were just superficial flattery, your intention went straight to his cock, making him throb even more for you. “Undress me yourself if that’s what you desire...” he says. Although the words may sound cold, the fingers he uses to caress your face lightly and push a strand of your hair back felt boiling hot against your skin. Your eyes flutter close for a minute as you lean into his touch. “Yes, sir~,” you say as you gently pull the ribbon holding together his robe. It falls open, revealing his throbbing cock. Your blush deepens as your eyelids droop. Looking back up at him, you stand, pulling the fabric down his arms, tracing your fingers over his muscles and scars. “You’re built like a god Aizawa-Sama~,” you say, gazing up at him again.

“Please touch me, sir~ My body is on fire, and my cunt throbs for your thick cock”

You look over to Hizashi quickly for a sign of approval, not wanting to push your luck and insult either of the two. The gods would be envious of your beauty, melting so quickly under his touch. He lets his shoulders relax, the robe falling into a pool around his feet. He grins and gives an appreciative growl as you call him Aizawa sama. He might just get addicted to that. He grabs your chin, tilting your face up to look at him, his cock nearly dripping with anticipation right above those sinful lips. “Are you going to savor them, boss?” Hizashi teases, massaging his erection through his gown as he thoroughly enjoys the show. Making sure to give you a supportive nod as you look his way. “Well...if they prepare my cock thoroughly, I might consider it...” Aizawa teases, pressing his cock against your lips. “Show me the skill that Hizashi has been bragging about Y/N.” Keeping your hands on your thighs, you part your lips slowly, suckling the tip before taking more. He tastes sweet, and it makes you moan softly. Moving your hands to gently glide up his thighs to hold onto his hips, looking up at him, you bob your head on his cock before slamming the rest down your throat, gagging softly as drool drips down your chin. Swallowing around it gently, you pull back to breathe for a second before going back. Completely lost in it all.

Feeling both of their eyes on you as you suck his cock. Stopping to breathe, you rub his cock gently. “Aizawa -sama, your cock is so big if I’m not careful, you could choke me with it~,” you say before doing just that, choking on his cock as you move his hips gently to face fuck you.

“Fuck, Hizashi has been holding out on him. He’ll punish him later for that. Cause god, why does their throat feel so good? Amplified by the beauty of the tears sliding down their cheeks. What a good girl.” Aizawa thinks to himself. “Then don’t be careful,” he teases before roughly grabbing your hair as leverage to slide his whole cock down your throat and to stay there. He enjoys the soft sounds of you gagging on his cock, and his eyes roll back before sliding out. Still hard and now dripping, it doesn’t compare to the puddle of juices underneath them. He’ll Apologize to the maids tomorrow. “Get to the bed. Now.” He commands. Hizashi moans softly at how stern Aizawa is. He knows right now is all about you, but he can’t help but fantasize about Shouta-sama being rough with him as he jerks his cock. You nod and climb onto the bed, laying back on the pile of pillows and silks, spreading your legs for him. Glistening and soaking wet, you present your entrance for him. “Please, Sir~ touch me~” you whimper. Looking over and making eye contact with Hizashi makes your body shiver. Watching him jerk his cock as you rub their sensitive clit edges you closer to orgasm. But you stop, taking a deep breath and gripping some of the silks at your sides.

“Am I acceptable for you, sir~ Hizashi always guessed you would be greedy with me,” You say.

He saunters over. What a beautiful sight you are. Spread open for him across the silk, already such a mess begging for his touch. And his touch you will get. He leans down and grabs your throat, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “You dare to speak of another man while you lie in my bed?” He grips a bit tighter to choke you a bit. “Apologize and beg properly; you slut. Otherwise, you’ll stay here for days aroused off drugs and tied up until I decide to forgive you” he can’t give in too quickly. He wants to break you to become his. Hizashi understands what’s going on, and he knows he’ll always get his share. Fuck he can’t wait for the day he gets to be Aizawas second bitch in heat. You squeal with glee and clench your thighs together to prevent yourself from squirting immediately at his grasp. “I’m sorry, Aizawa-sama, please forgive me and use my body how you see fit~” you whimper, grip the pillow they lay on. Looking up at him with the most endearing eyes. “Ravish me, please~ I live to serve you, sir,” you say as you spread your legs again, pulling your knees to your chest. You hear Hizashis’s breath gets caught in his throat, and it spurs you to continue. “Oh please, Aizawa-sama, fill me up with so much cum I get pregnant” “Look at you, squirm like a pathetic slut,” he growls, looking into those doe eyes. “Giving yourself to me so easily because of your whorish desires,” He says. He lets go of your throat and moves to fiercely grab your thighs, pulling you close to the edge of the bed and right up against him. He lets his cock rub against your wet slit, putting you on full display for him, teasing you with what is yet to come. “Are you sacrificing your body to me? For whatever I desire?” He asks. In response, you lift your hips so he could rub against your clit. “Y-yes, sir god, your cock is so big,” you say as you rub your breast. “I live to serve~ anything you desire is my command,” you say as you pinch your nipples. You loved the attention you were getting watching Hizashi pumping his cock to you while their boss stood above you. Moaning softly as you feel his cock grind against your lips. Growing restless with his teasing, you whimper softly, “Please, Aizawa-sama~” He grabs your jaw with one hand, keeping your focus on him and him alone. “I desire you. So now...you shall be mine,” he commands as he starts to push inside of you. Enjoying your expression change as you melt from the pleasure of his cock filling you up. Placing feather-light kisses on your lips, he says, “On this bed, I shall ruin you and use you as a sow to breed my heirs. As of today, you are nothing more than a tool for me to use for pleasure Lady Y/N.” You grip his forearm and only whimper softly at his words. You can feel just how thick and long his cock is. “G-gods above anything you wish Aizawa-sama~ I’m just a breeding tool~” you moan as you feel him bottom out inside of you. “I’m so grateful you chose me, sir ~ your cock is amazing. I’d be jealous if anyone else ever got your attention,” you say as you stare up at him, admiring the strong man above you. He smirks at your submission to him. “They’re going to be an excellent addition to his bed chambers,” he thinks to himself. He begins to thrust slowly in and out, teasing your insides with his cock. Gently he kisses down your neck and says, “If you want to claim my attention so badly, you need to show me what you can do slut. Ensnare me in your lustful trap.” You bite your lip with a groan as you run your hands over his shoulders, grazing your nails across his back. Tracing every scar with gentle fingers, you finally cupped his face in your hands, looking him in the eye, you wrap your legs around his waist, flipping them over, so you were on top. Bouncing slowly, you grind against his pelvis as you keep both hands firmly on his chest. “All you had to do was ask~,” you say as you begin to bounce faster, placing his hands on your hips. You lean back, moaning softly at the stretch of his cock. “Look at that Aizawa-sama~ your cock is stretching me so good. I had no doubts a man as handsome and experienced as you could make me feel so full,” you say as you move one of his hands over your womb, you could feel his cock.

“What a fiesty one.” He thinks to himself. Never has someone putting him on his back been so enjoyable. He chuckles and admires the view, watching how they desperately move their body up and down his cock. His hands stay on their thighs, his fingers savoring how soft and succulent they are. He leans up a bit to reach for their clit, teasing it gently with his fingers because they look so pretty as they cry out for him. “What a magnificent view you give me....” he looks up to their brilliant eyes “if you make me feel any better than this, I might reward you with whatever you please,” he says.

You would never deny the small glint of greed in your eyes as you leaned over, stopping and gyrating your hips gently as his cock pressed against your womb entrance. “Now now, Aizawa-sama~ I can be very greedy~,” you say softly as you slow your movements to a stop. Purring softly as you feel his cock pulse, you were able to skillfully pin his hands above his head. Kissing up his neck, you moan softly in his ear as you feel his hips start to buck up into you. “Your cock feels so good, Aizawa-sama~,” you say with a groan as you begin to slowly ride his cock.

This is a first, being pinned down with his hands above his head like this. He knows he has the power to overcome it, but there is a new thrill to letting them take control like this. It allows him to melt from lust so much easier. He gives them the moans they’re looking for. But their slow bouncing is too much torment for him. He leans in to softly bite their neck “either you pick up the pace, sweetheart, or I’ll make you,” he says with a growl. Letting go of his hands, you threaded your fingers in his hair. “Make me Aizawa-sama~” you whisper into his ear as you continue to grind against him slowly to a complete stop again. Looking over to Hizashi with a smirk as you kiss down his neck and jaw. “Unless you’re powerless against me,” you say. He chuckles at that challenge, his hands massaging down their sides to fiercely grab onto their hips. “You have a wonderful skill set....but not enough to make me powerless against you yet, my dear,” he says as he pulls out to slam his full-length inside of you. “Let’s see how long you hold out until you’re craving only my cock.” He teases as he grips his arms around her, thrusting at a faster pace, looking for the angle to make you go crazy. Squealing at his fast pace, you dig your nails into his shoulders as you felt him hit your sweet spot. Trying not to melt was a challenge as the aphrodisiac made everything 100% more sensitive. Your thighs twitch, and you feel your orgasm reach its crescendo.

“A-Aizawa- sama fuck, I’m so close fuck~” you moan out as you feel yourself coming undone. However, you decided to try and get under his skin one more time. Sitting up as Aizawa abused your sweet spot, you looked to Hizashi. “Hizashi~ his cock feels so good~ I’m not sure who will be my favorite!” Hizashi has been trying to keep himself respectfully in line, biting his hand to mute his moans as he comes. Yet his hand never off his dick as he goes from one orgasm to the next, watching his lovers fuck so intimately for the first time. But when you call out to him, he can’t help but moan loudly, even getting the boss’s attention.

That flipped a switch inside Aizawa, he sits up and turns them over, so his whore is underneath him. He pins your ankles towards your head and now pounds into you, kissing all of their sweet spots with his throbbing cock. “You dare to call out to another man again?” He digs his nails into your soft flesh “you both need to prepare for your punishment after this, you whores” he speaks to the two of them, your eyes glimmer with mischief as they take their pounding. Moaning and whimpering loudly as they look to the man over her, “Y-you’re not jealous, are you A-Aizawa-sama~” you purr out as you feel yourself squirt again. Your back arches, and your thighs shake as you cum around his cock, your mind breaks as you feel his cock kiss your womb. Quickly becoming a mess, babble, and whimpers for his cock, you hold onto his arms and look into his eyes as you slip further into bliss. More than happy to take any punishment that’s coming your way.

“Jealousy isn’t the game I play. You know now who owns this puss of yours.” He growls in your ear, gripping harder on your hips as he slaps against you again and again. From your moans and hearing Hizashi make a mess of himself, Aizawa knows he’s close. Kissing you passionately, he commands, “Beg for my cum whore. Tell me who you belong to now.” You can’t help but moan loudly as you arch your back for him. “Please cum in me, Aizawa-sama~ I’ll be a good whore, I promise just, please fill me up!” Strong, toned body thrust into you was intoxicating, and the thought of now serving two strong, beautiful men made a shiver rack through your spine. He smirks and continues to thrust into you faster, enjoying the way you unravel. As you get tighter around him, he knows it’s time. With another moan, he thrusts fully into you, filling you up. As he catches his breath, he pulls back, his cock sliding out, making quite the view as his cum dribbles out of your messy pussy. “Mmmm...good job whore” You whimper and sigh happily as you keep your legs up to show off your pussy. “Thank you, Aizawa-Sama~,” you say as you rub your clit softly. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir~?” You say softly as you watch him. He stands next to the edge of the bed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Such an eager slut looking for more already, aren’t you?” He rests his hands on your hips, “if you want more, then work for it”

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hs-devote · 4 years ago

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láthi: the unwritten truth

Moodboard * Content * Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

the completed series here

the unwritten truth

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“You don't have to ask twice.”

“Fine then.” it sighs, “ Who are you going to sacrifice?”

“She was the Goddess of the Moon. Selene.”

. . . .

One year later..

“It's so sad the Goddess died after a year of torture. Plus, her husband sentenced her to prison.”

“Do you know what caused the Goddess to die at such a young age?”

“I heard rumours that she was cursed?"

“How could she die from being cursed? No one in the realm could hurt the royal family.”

“Ladies, it would be respectful if you didn't talk nonsense about your God and Goddess.”

The maids wince, terrified when Harry's advisor caught them gossiping in the kitchen. Feeling embarrassed, they quickly return to their work and praying he doesn't report them to the God.

“You're lucky that I won't report you to His Majesty,” he announces, “Go get to work.”

The all women nod as the advisor leaving them alone. While they get back to their work, Arion, the advisor, immediately goes to Harry who's in his study. When he arrives, he sees the door slightly ajar and knocks on it, walking in when the God allows him.

“Is there any good news, Your Majesty?" Arion asks after he bends down, looking at the distressed God behind his oak table.

“Is that creature still exist?” Harry hums, his eyes never leaving the old book in his hand.

“What creature, Your Majesty?”

Harry sighs, closes the book tiredly and put it on the table. "I saw an odd mark on Selene's neck, and it disappeared just before the cremation ceremony began. It was an ancient mark that belongs to mythical creatures, according to this book." he points at the book, "As far as I know, the mythical creatures vanished when Centauri attacked Sicily far centuries ago."

“So, you think Her Majesty's death has something to do with them?”

“I don't want to think like that, but that mark makes me uneasy." Harry scratches his temple, "They should be extinct, right?"

“I heard one rumour, Your Majesty." Arion starts, "When the chaos broke out, some of the survivors chose to negate their physical and returned to where they were born. And some of them had extraordinary power."

“If what you think is true, you have to find them. If there are humans who know its existence, they will know the truth about our realm.” he adds, looking at Harry respectfully who's now listening to him carefully, “Whose mark is it?”

“Cerberus.”

“Belonged to the God of Dead,” Arion whispers, “Do you think it inherited its owner power?”

“I don't know, Arion.” Harry sighs, “But for sure, I have to find the truth.” . . . .

It never occurred to Ilitia that she would do such a thing like this the first time in her life, and she vowed to be last time too.

Right now, she was standing in the middle of a Parthenon, under the starry night of Corinth, eyes deadly looking at a figure that only she could see. A few meters in front of them, lay a woman on a stone table, looking beautiful and peaceful in her forever sleep. Looking at her dead granddaughter, she realised that she had travelled this far and didn't want her efforts to fail.

“It's my honour to able to see you again, Carmenta."

“It's been a long decade, is it?”

“I heard you were in Sicily,” its stepped closer, “What brought you here?”

“My granddaughter was killed by order of a Goddess–”

“How come?”

Ilitia bit her lips, not sure if she should tell the chronology. But if she refused, it wouldn't help her. Right then, she had to choose the right word.

“She was carrying the Goddess' husband child. Long story short, the Goddess found out and order her guards to killed my granddaughter.”

“She was impregnated by a God?” it raised its head, “You're not making it up, are you?”

“The Goddess couldn't conceive because of a curse, and her husband went down to Earth to find me. Instead, he met my darling Y/N and they fell in love. The God cheated behind his wife, yes, and.. they constantly having sexual intercourse until Y/N got pregnant." she starts, "We all do know that no God can impregnate a human. But, that was the fate."

“And when the Goddess find out about that, she was terrified that her husband would have an heir to the throne from someone else?” it continued Ilitia's story and was agreed by the woman.

“Is that the Centauri crown?”

“Yes.”

“How tragic.”

“Because of that, I came here to ask your help to bring my Y/N back because she doesn't deserve to die this way." Ilitia whispers, "I'll do anything for her, and help Centauri to have an heir to the throne. After all, the Goddess couldn't give an heir and my granddaughter has the right to find her happiness, even with a God."

“You know that the price isn't easy, do you? What do you prepare for this?”

“A life for a life.” Ilitia deadpanned, “It's a fair price to trade my granddaughter's life.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“You don't have to ask twice.”

“Fine then.” it sighs, “ Who are you going to sacrifice?”

“The Goddess of the Moon. Selene."

. . . .

This is the second time Harry has visited this mountain peak, a place where used to be the hideout of previous Gods and Goddesses, the place believed to be the hideout of the mythical creaturesor even a born place. The mountain is very beautiful when the sun shines on Earth, but quite scary when the eerie silent echoed after the night sky appears.

The God doesn't know where to start, and this mission reminds him of his arrival to Syracuse nearly two years ago, making him remember his darling Y/N. He misses her so much, and it hurts his soul. If he knew where Y/N's grave was, at least he could visit her and loving on her even if he only could touch her tombstone.

“Mount Olympus feels quite different." Arion says next to him, his eyes stare at the endless mountain slope.

For this chance, Harry decided to bring Arion with him because he knows this mission isn't easy. And surely as his advisor, Arion can help him and give him advise since the man has studied mythical creatures.

“Cerberus is a dog. There's no way it stays on the top of a mountain, right? Too risky if humans see it." Harry mumbles, "If it only visible."

“Let's get down to the ground then, Your Majesty.”

Harry nods, and in a split second, he's setting foot in the valley. Then, they begin to explore, hoping to find any sign of Cerberus. The two of them always checked every cave or spot that could potentially be a possible residence for that giant creature.

It had taken them nearly four hours and the night had almost turned to dawn, but they had found nothing. Harry is quite desperate, and thinking they have come to the wrong place.

“Any luck?” Harry asks after Arion appeared in front of him, only for Harry get another disappointment when Arion shakes his head no.

“Did we come to the wrong place?”

“I'm– ”

In all of sudden, the air around them feels stifled and the wind feels hot even though the sun hasn't yet risen. Harry also realises that the grass they were trampling on was shrivelled at once. Something feels strange.

“It's strange..” Arion looking around, “Something happened.”

“Something comes,” Harry corrects him, “Something comes closer, still hiding from us.”

“Show yourself!” Harry shouts, “We came in peace! Just looking for something!”

The hot wind getting stronger and stronger, until a bolt of red lightning swooped down in front of him. Now, Harry can see clearly what appears before him. A giant three headed-dogs, its body glows slightly reddish. It has a serpent tail, along with snakes protruding from it back. Its glowing red eyes look annoyed at being disturbed. The Cerberus looks intimidating than he thought.

“Why are you looking for me, Your Majesty?” it smirks, showing it canines coating with saliva, “Why are you bothering me at my stay?”

“I apologies if I disturb your sleep,” Harry answers, “I didn't know that you were survived and hiding here.”

“We don't want humans to see me, do we?” it argues, “Even though I'm invisible.”

“Why didn't you go back to Centauri?”

“My master was dead, I couldn't go back without an owner. Besides, it's more peaceful here if I go back to your realm." it scoffs, "What do you want? The sun is almost rising, and I can't let anyone see me."

“My wife has died, and I saw your mark on her neck.” Harry points out his serpent tail, “Do you have anything to do with her death?”

“Your wife died? How unfortunate.” Cerberus mocks, “If someone is destined to die, then she must die.”

“I just want to know why you killed her, Cerberus.” Harry seethes, “You have no right to the life of a God or Goddess.”

“Despite her death lightened your burden, Your Majesty?” Cerberus arches its eyebrow, “And set you free? You should thank me, anyway.”

“I know you inherited your master's power but you can't kill her like that. She has nothing wrong against you.”

“Yet she has done sins and be cunning." Cerberus nods, "And now if I may ask you, how do you feel after your manipulative wife gone forever? As far as I know, a God and Goddess cannot be divorced if it's not death."

“Your Majesty, he knows too much.” Arion mutters under his breath, “Do you– ”

“Advisor, I didn't ask you to speak.” Cerberus growls then averts its gaze to Harry, “You once planned to do annulment but it couldn't be done because the court said a ruler must still have a wife.”

“How did you know?” Harry challenges, “Why did you know everything?”

“A bird told me," it stares boldly at him, "And I started to think, her death is something I can be proud of because she's the rightest person.”

Harry frowns. Something feels out of place with what it said and bothering him. And those question being thrown at him, he could easily answer them. Yet, he couldn't. After all, he still loves Selene even though he also hates her. Selene is his wife who was always there for him. Of course he was sad to know that the woman died in prison after she had been sick for a year.

“What did you mean with the rightest?”

“A year ago, someone came and beg me to help bring someone's life back. They're family, tho. This old woman said that her granddaughter died innocently and wanted her granddaughter to come back to her life. It was not an easy task and there must be a price to pay. When she mentioned the sacrifice, I was quite baffled that she prepared another life. Well, I didn't kill the sacrifice right away, I tortured them first by sucked their life slowly before the death calling their name."

“Selene was being sacrificed? Who dared to do that? Did you not aware that you overstepping our rules?!" Harry's voice boomed, angry at what he had just heard. How could someone risk Selene's life just to bring back a dead person?

“You let a human order you to kill a Goddess? Really?" he hisses, "How sick of that!"

“She was right, you're quite stupid too apparently." Cerberus rolls its eyes.

“Cerberus, I order– "

“You're just an advisor, and you're just a guest in my stay. I do not belong to the Centauri so I don't take orders from anyone." Cerberus cuts Arion off, "You think I'm stupid enough to do that for humans? Have you forgotten that only your people can see me?”

While Arion stares at Cerberus confused, Harry begins to think and digest every single word that came out from the creature from the beginning.

No way...

“Carmenta came to me to help her with Y/N, and she traded her granddaughter's life over your wife's.” . . . .

His heart is pounding like crazy, almost like about to burst through his ribcage. He cannot believe it, his darling Y/N is back to life. His Y/N is safe and sound. His Y/N is free from Selene's torture. It feels so long from the last time he saw her, he really missed her and couldn't wait to see her. There are millions of questions running through his head for him to ask Y/N and Ilitia.

How could?

How is she?

Did she miss him?

Will Ilitia allow him to meet her?

When Cerberus revealed the truth, he couldn't think straight. All he had in mind was Y/N, Y/N, and Y/N only. He had to find her as soon as possible. Despite he had to beg on his knees to Cerebus which made Arion widened his eyes; asking where the last time it met Ilitia was, it was worth it.

And now, here he is, in Corinth. His long wait ends in one of the cities on the seafront of Greece. Of course, Ilitia couldn't possibly stay in Syracuse anymore, she started fresh in Corinth with Y/N. With Arion went back to Centauri, Harry feels freer to get Y/N.

Well, his search for his true love isn't an easy thing. It's been two days and he hasn't found her yet and plans to rent a house longer if it takes a long time because it's impossible to go back and forth to Centauri. Whatever it takes, Harry has to find her.

“Why is it so hard to find you, Y/N?" he mutters while looking endless of Corinth's sea, "I miss you so much, do you miss me too?"

She's here, Your Majesty

Your happy ending

Your long wait

Harry was enjoying the sea breeze so much that he didn't realise he'd been daydreaming on the shore for too long. He already spent hours tiredly finding Y/N and it seems that his efforts should be even harder tomorrow.

When he decided to leave the beach and return to his rented house, he swears that his eyes are playing a trick on him. About twenty meters away from him, he sees the woman he was looking for is staring at the open sea in front of her, both hands on her dress pockets with her bare feet in the water.

She looks even more beautiful.

She looks healthy.

She looks perfect.

And finally, he finds her.

Without a second thought, Harry runs to her – afraid that she will vanish like when he saw her in his castle. He doesn't want to be late, and he doesn't want to lose her again.

When his body crashes on her and his strong arms wrapped around her body, Harry feels home.

He's too happy because it feels real, he shed tears of happiness when he feels her warm and alive body. Then, he breaks the hug and cupping her face with both his palms, adoring the beautiful face in front of him. Admiring the woman who's staring at his teary green eyes.

“It' you. You're here.” he sobs, “You're here with me. You're back. You're alive. You're safe.”

“I miss you so much and it hurts my soul.” he gently strokes her cheek, “How are you, my darling?”

Yet, what Y/N said to him make his smile fade away, “Who are you?” . . . .

“You know, when someone's life is being exchanged, the life does return. But, as pure life. So, your granddaughter's will start a fresh life. She won't remember anything, but the basic abilities like speaking, writing, reading, and so on won't be erased. So, you will have extra effort to help her adjust."

“I understand,” Ilitia nods “She was pregnant before. Will the baby come back too?”

Cerberus shakes its head, "No. If you want her baby to come back, you have to prepare one more God or Goddess life to trade because he has a God's blood running on him."

“How do you know her child is going to be a boy?”

“Mythical creatures always know, Carmenta.”

. . . . “Why did you do that, Ilitia?” Harry asks.

After the shock he got when Y/N admitted she didn't know him, Harry couldn't believe it at all. Yet, he let out a relief huff when Ilitia approached them and didn't look surprised at all, and invited Harry to talk at their house. And along the way, he stole a glance at Y/N who walked next to Ilitia, looking so confused yet curious about his presence.

“Honestly? I refused my innocent granddaughter to be killed your wife, Harry. She had done nothing wrong, but you and your wife.”

“Me?” Harry frowns, his eyes looking around for caution if Y/N hear them since Ilitia asked her to wait in her bedroom, “I have nothing to– ”

“Your ignorance, your selfishness. If you're smart enough, you could prevent this all.” Ilitia scowls, “You couldn't choose between her and Selene, and you didn't want to lose one of them. Sadly, your behaviour made you lose both of them. Also, your future child.”

“I know you resent me so much, Ilitia. But, I truly sorry for all this mess. What I feel towards her is real." he gives her apologetic look, "I just want to fix everything."

“Of course, that's why you came here all the way from Centauri.” Ilitia shrugs, “Besides, this is my way to make her happy and help my old home to have a better future.”

“Centauri is always be your home, Ilitia." he reassures her, "After all, Y/N will needs if she comes home with me.”

“How confident of you.” Ilitia chuckles, “If so, you have to start over as if you just know each other since she doesn't remember you. And win her heart if you have chosen your destiny.”

Harry nods as Ilitia gets up from her couch, calling Y/N to meet them both in the living room. While waiting for her, Harry starts to get nervous and his hand begin to sweat, too overwhelmed by the happiness. When Y/N appears in front of him, Ilitia who's standing behind her granddaughter smiling to the old yet new couple, "Mia cara, this Harry. Maybe you didn't remember him but you were so close with him, he just come home from his overseas trip.” and strokes Y/N arms lovingly, “Just introduce yourself as the beginning, he would understand.”

“I haven't introduced myself yet.” Harry offers his hand for Y/N to take, smiling fondly. “My name's Harry”

The girl smiles and shakes his hand softly, “Hi, Harry. I'm Y/N.”

Just like the first time.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles writing #mythology #god harry styles #greek gods #romance #fanfiction #harry styles x reader

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for-i-am-dying-of-such-love · 4 years ago

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that time I watched Antony + Cleopatra

I don’t even know where to start with this one. Please don’t mistake my criticism of the episode with my hating it, because I actually think there’s a lot going on here with Xena (and Gabrielle too, but I am less focused on her arc) that’s quite nuanced and compelling. I love that Xena’s role in orchestrating Marc Antony’s downfall contributes to her moral and emotional conflict. What I abhor (and refuse to accept) is the suggestion that it’s born out of her falling in *love* with him, especially when there are far more consequential things in Xena’s life, past and present, fueling her angst in this moment. I have my own reading of what’s causing Xena’s uneasiness here, but more on that in a bit.

First: I think my greatest frustration is with the show itself. Like, THE FUCKING AUDACITY to foist a Boyfriend of the Week on us with just a handful of episodes left in season five. After everything, *everything*, that Xena & Gabrielle have suffered through (actual, literal HELL), and the continued devotion they show for one another, it’s just not believable that Xena would fall in love with someone else, let alone a ROMAN GENERAL. The emphasis here is important, but patience grasshopper, I’ll get to that.

Now, here’s where we start to get into the weeds with this notion of ‘Xena falling in love’ and there’s a lot to unpack around it, but before I do, let me just finish unspooling the threads of frustration I have with the show and it’s AUDACITY. Because it’s important to note that the show’s intention *was* to frame Xena’s attraction for Marc Antony as romantic - on top of whatever else she may have initially felt (indifference, intrigue, lust) - and not just sexual. And while I’ll concede that a story where Xena is forced to sacrifice her heart for the greater good by killing the man she loves is intriguing, it’s one we’ve already seen (Immortal Beloved). More than that, it’s a story that doesn’t fit with the Xena we know now, and the show, better than anyone, should have recognized this.

I know I’m being hard on the show runners here, so allow me this small tangent to give a little contextual understanding before furthering my arguments. As much fun as it is wrestling with the internal logic of this show (a surprisingly uphill battle all the time), I understand the unfortunate truth is that character motivations don’t always drive the story in the ways you would expect. Sometimes external factors complicate the stories XWP wants to tell and the ways it’s *allowed* to tell them. I get that.

I also get that Xena: Warrior Princess - both the show and the character - was expected to be sexy (hello, an easy win because Xena & Gabrielle). And that means, from time to time, it had to tease the audience with sex and seduction and romance (I guess fighting demons in Hell for the soul of your SOULMATE is not romantic enough, but I DIGRESS). What that often translated as on screen was a parade of Boyfriends of the Week for our two favourite Gal Pals, and by this point in the show, well, frankly it had been a while since Xena had had her a boyfriend (the Ares arc in season 5 doesn’t count). Simply put: a Marc Antony type was past due.

In this case, he wasn’t just past due, he served a dual purpose - fulfilling their Boyfriend of the Week quota, but also helping to re-establish Xena’s sexuality after she’d had her baby. I happen to think the latter take is overly simplistic and misguided (because, what, pregnant women are not also capable of being sexual creatures?), but it’s something Rob Tapert has commented on. So, ok, sure, fine whatever.

To be fair, I’m not sure if the show was deliberately signalling the return of Sexualized!Xena, or if it was simply a byproduct of the chemistry between the characters, and the inherent sensuality of the story’s setting. Regardless, the end result was certainly titillating. And I get it. I get why they want Boyfriends of the Week sometimes. Sex sells, and this episode was a blockbuster.

And before I return again to being hard on the show runners about dumb boyfriends, I just want to point out that my specific problem isn’t that Xena has been given a *boy*friend. Xena is bisexual, so men are always going to be an option when she’s considering a romantic or sexual partner. My issue is that she’s considering *any* romantic partner at all! By the gods, she’s essentially married to Gabrielle at this point.

Ay, but there’s the rub. Because the same expectation that dictated XWP should be sexy, also dictated that it should be heteronormative. The show can repeatedly double down on Xena’s & Gabrielle’s emotional and spiritual fidelity but it can never be seen explicitly to be sexual too (just a reminder, I haven’t seen S6 yet). That’s the unfortunate and uncomfortable reality of television in the late 90s and early 00s.

But this is where I take umbrage: XWP may’ve been limited (by studio notes) to giving us a chalk outline of what Xena’s & Gabrielle’s relationship really looked like, but they most definitely had the ability to control how they coloured the relationships Xena & Gabrielle had with their Boyfriends of the Week. And again, in ‘Antony and Cleopatra’ the show chose to frame it as a love story, a romance, when simply playing it off as Xena’s libido run amok would have satisfied the episode’s need for sex appeal, while also honouring the fact that her heart has long been spoken for (don’t worry: taking Xena’s heart out of the equation won’t lessen her moral or emotional conflict any - I’m getting there!).

Because here’s the thing: Xena getting caught up in the heady thrill of a seduction play, especially with a man as attractive and powerful as Marc Antony is totally believable. And really, Xena taken in by *lust* makes sense, especially at this point in her life. I mean, it’s been a while since she’s had to play this seductive cat-and-mouse game (Ares doesn’t count) and maybe she’s forgotten how easy it is to slip into this character, how much fun it can be. Maybe it’s even a little liberating - this return to form from when she was wild and free - because a lot has changed since she last had to do this; she’s changed and in ways she never anticipated. She’s settled down, even if she’s still travelling the known world. Made a commitment to Gabrielle to share a life together, had a baby, and now the three of them are carving out their own little domestic sphere. And all of this is happening while she’s still reconciling the person she was before with the person she is now. Maybe she’s a little itchy.

Because this… this tension, the cadence of a feint and parry charm offensive, it’s familiar. Comfortable in a way she didn’t know she missed until she felt it again. It would be easy to see her drunk with dark delight, to momentarily lose sight of her head. It would be believable. What’s not believable is that she - a pragmatist - would ever lose sight of her heart. Because the stakes of the game are so high, for Egypt but also for her. (And for you in the back who’s clearly read ahead on the syllabus and is about to point out Xena’s checkered romantic history and her self-proclaimed soft spot for Bad Boys Who Love Like Fools - don’t worry, we’ll get there too.)

What I’m taking a generous amount of time to say is this: if they simply wanted to give us a lush and sexy episode, they could have delivered on the sexiness without attaching it to a love story! We are long past believing Xena only kisses people she’s in love with, or that she’s in love with all the people she kisses. There’s no need to pretend her sexual agency is only relevant or operational within the confines of a romantic plot line. But more than that, throwing an unbelievable romance into the mix really only serves to threaten the integrity of Xena’s motivations, because it risks reducing the entirety of her turmoil to: Xena loses another boyfriend, how le sad. And that is absolutely not the point.

Because the point is this: Rome fucking corrupts and perverts everything it touches. And Xena’s motivations are built from her (and now Gabrielle’s) tortured history with the empire and the men who run it. And if you’ll permit me, like 4,000 words, we can get into it and, hopefully, you’ll agree that shit is heavy enough on Xena’s mind without a ‘star-crossed lovers’ storyline. Remember, it was only a year ago that they both were nailed up by Romans and left to die under a cold, grey sky at the foot of Mount Amaro. That cross alone, and the long shadow it casts, is more than capable of supporting the dramatic weight of this episode, never mind the crosses that came before it.

So, I can’t overstate the importance of Xena’s past connection with Caesar and Rome. It informed so much of who Xena was to become, as a cruel and bloodthirsty warlord, and then later, as a warrior fighting for good. Even now, after Caesar’s death, that connection is still informing her. It will never stop. And, Rome will never be absolved of its sins against Xena & Gabrielle. There’s simply too much trauma in that shared past. Trauma that‘s telegraphed onto every interaction Xena has with Rome and its strongmen going forward.

And it’s exactly the reason Xena would never fall in love with Marc Antony. She might well lust after his body, but she will never pine for his devotion. Because, even in that moment under the stars when he is just a man with his chest cracked open, offering up to her his heart, beating strong and hungry in want of her affection, she can’t help but see the hardened, black veins where the love of Rome - like a creeping scourge - has left its vile mark. Of course she recognizes it, her own heart bore the same disease. A gift from Caesar. The pretty boy with his pretty words and his pretty promises, who so subtly disarmed Xena and then skillfully stripped away her defences until she had bared her heart to him. Who didn’t hesitate to flay it with a knife of her own making, it’s blade poisoned with his love for Rome.

He did not take her heart - sometimes she wished he had - but left it to rot in her chest, slow and angry. And it nearly destroyed her. Nearly drained her of every ounce of humanity she had left, as hatred and spite and cold brutality filled her up instead. He had weaponized Xena’s affection for him and used it against her and she was forever changed. In that singular moment she saw Caesar, and Rome - because Caesar was Rome and Rome was Caesar and they were one and the same - for what they truly were: insidious and unrepentant in their calculated villainy. And she hated - not just the man who betrayed her, but the monster who nursed him with poisoned milk, and all the other strongmen who nursed at the same teat. Because in that moment too, Xena learned that all the men who kneeled before Rome and lusted after her glory were the same.

But she didn’t let her hatred go unproductive. She had been careless and imprudent in her dealings with Caesar, and nearly paid for it with her life. Except she survived and then thrived, in her own insidious, unrepentant, calculated villainy. And she never forgot what Caesar had done to her, how he had done it. She turned it over and over and over again in her mind. Studied it from every angle. Studied *him*. Until she knew how he thought, how he moved, where he was weak and unsuspecting. Until she knew every single one of his plays, and how best to counter them. Where and when to lay siege. A secret weapon she cultivated, not just to destroy the man who destroyed her heart, but to lay waste to all the fools who followed in his footsteps. She wouldn’t be taken in by Rome again.

And, to be fair, the episode doesn’t try to run from this history. It just doesn’t linger in it any longer than is necessary to give a brief nod to Brutus and the crucifixion (which is a shame, because it informs so much of both Xena’s & Gabrielle’s psychology, but we’re getting there!!!). Even still, Gabrielle’s first words are loaded with its legacy, if not also quiet resignation: “Are we really going to do this?” Because: Fuck! Rome, again? They’re only willing to go another round with Rome because of Cleopatra, only willing to embrace the ghosts this will stir up because they feel they owe it to a friend.

So, of course they’re going to do this. Only, it’s no longer about vengeance, at least not the white fury that once burned hot in Xena’s veins. This is different. Xena’s ire still seethes, but she doesn’t plan to wield it like a mighty sword, rather she’ll channel it with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel poised to excise a tumour, deliberate and clinical. The plotting is easy - Xena has a library of schemes stored away in the vast reserves of her grey matter - but made easier by the fact that she knows Caesar’s playbook so intimately. The man may be dead but he lives on in Rome and the hearts of all the faithful men who love her - proud and predictable. Puppets whose strings she knows she can deftly manoeuvre. The problem is that Xena’s too comfortable in her self-assuredness. Her plan and her assumptions of how Roman strongmen operate and her ability to manage everything is founded on her understanding of Caesar. And none of these men are the next Caesar. And it’s a problem, because this was supposed to be a quick and straightforward trip up the Nile to Memphis to do a little housekeeping on behalf of a friend and it’s been complicated by the fact that her pawns are not being cooperative.

This entire endeavour is not what she was expecting, Antony is not at all what she was expecting. He’s disarmingly handsome and charming, like many of Rome’s great strongmen, and their chemistry is electric - a bonus when you’re really trying to sell your part in a seduction play - but she realizes a little too late that the game she plays with him is not the one she had planned on. It’s actually much more dangerous.

And, I get that many fans believe Xena’s sexual attraction to Marc Antony is meant to telegraph an underlying romantic attraction as well. That as their physical encounters become more intimate and intense, so too must Xena’s feelings for him. And it’s easy to read it this way because Gabrielle’s own jealousy seems to reinforce the very idea, and Xena, herself, looks increasingly unsettled after each interaction. But I think it’s too simplistic an answer. Xena’s unease about Antony is growing because her plan has been frustrated by unforeseen hurdles, none of which include her falling in love with him. And Xena is frustrated in return.

We totally see this play out in Xena’s treatment of Gabrielle. She is curt and cool and dismissive (at least until their balcony talk), especially after Gabrielle puts a spectacular halt to Xena’s picnic with Marc Antony. But Xena’s distance here is not because she’s being defensive (at Gabrielle’s continued suggestions that she’s lost the plot), or because she’s angry for the interruption (ok, I’m sure there’s a very base part of Xena that *was* disappointed), or because she’s hurt (how could Gabrielle not have faith in her?). It may come across that way, but, really, Xena’s just acting out her frustrations.

Because this whole situation with Marc Antony, if a little intriguing at first, is irritating. And Xena’s frustrated. On many levels. The most obvious, and least surprising, being that Antony’s attentions have left her itchy and it’s distracting. And not because the chemistry between them has set off a chain reaction of romantic feelings for him - Xena is not spending her free time daydreaming about the man behind the General. It’s simply because there’s a kind of fire in her veins now that she wasn’t expecting to deal with this time out and it has the tendency to keep her on edge. And it’s not that she can’t handle it - spontaneous combustion is sometimes an occupational hazard when she’s playing at desire - it’s just that this particular element was not part of her plan.

That’s the real frustration: Xena’s not used to her plans being stymied. Her opening move - rolling herself, naked and chained, out from a carpet - though, brazen, should have been the perfect lure, should have painted her Cleopatra as an easy, if not unwilling, target for Antony’s ambitions. Because all Roman strongmen are the same: pretty boys with pretty words and pretty promises and pretty predictable tastes for cunning and seduction that they weaponize for the glory of Rome; heartless but for their love of res publica.

And so, this exact play is one Xena is confident any ambitious Roman would pounce on - remember: she knows their playbook, was once herself on the near-losing end of such a gambit, back when she was still a little naive and the right words could soften her heart; before her legs and her psyche endured the full force of Rome’s wrath. Except Antony doesn’t take the bait, like she expects, and it catches Xena flat-footed, a position she rarely finds herself in and one she isn’t particularly fond of. And so now she finds herself having to regroup and change tactics on the fly, which is fine - she’s used to that too - it’s just that her forward momentum is frustrated by the fact that she can’t get a good read on Marc Antony, doesn’t quite know his angle. He’s an unknown and unpredictable variable in a plot that already has a lot of moving parts and it introduces just the tiniest element of doubt into the equation.

Which is why it doesn’t help that Gabrielle is dubious of Xena’s motivations surrounding Antony. Not that Xena blames her for her concerns. She knows they aren’t really meant to provoke - that they come from a place of genuine anxiety, born from Gabrielle’s intimate understanding of Xena’s unhappy past with both bad-boy types and the ravages of Rome. Knows that Gabrielle, whose heart has traced all the scars of that past and let her love be a salve, is steadfast in her belief in Xena, even when the wheels are falling off. But Gabrielle’s questions do provoke. They pique Xena’s frustrations. It leaves her feeling cagey - like her back is up - and she hates it because it means she’s dangerously close to being on the defensive.

And really, by the time Marc Antony invites her to meet him under the pyramids, Xena is running out of options. Her back isn’t just up, it feels dangerously close to being backed up against a wall. She’s only playing this game because she’s confident she’ll win - that’s why she led with such a shameless opening bid, presenting herself to Antony as she did - but with each round Antony’ coyishness has forced her to up the ante while she waits for him to play his hand. Once upon a time she might have enjoyed and encouraged this slow, deliberate back-and-forth - would have been willing to play it out until she was out of chips (and her clothes) - but she no longer has the patience. Not that she’s entirely immune now to the thrill of what they’re doing - Xena has always enjoyed the hunt and then playing with her food - it’s just that she needs him to reveal his hand before he can call her bluff because there aren’t anymore chips to spare and she has too much on the line to go all in.

But Xena’s emotional conflict isn’t just being driven by her frustrations with the way her plan is playing out - it’s priming the engine, to be sure - there are other feelings at work here too. And chief among them is a deep and growing unease with the roles she and Gabrielle have cast themselves in and the very real consequences that will come from their interference. It doesn’t sit well with Xena, the way they’re toying with the futures of Egypt and Rome - as if they are just prizes to be won and Brutus, Antony and Octavius are the game pieces that need to be maneuvered around the board until a winner appears. As if there aren’t millions of lives at stake. She hates it. Hates that she has been somehow cast above it all, to dabble, like some unworthy god, in the lives of so many, and yet also stuck in the thick of it, an unwitting pawn herself.

And the longer Xena’s game is in play, the murkier everything becomes. What seems like a straightforward plan on paper, is actually a mess of competing interests, each as cold and ruthless as the next. And right at the heart of it all: Xena (and Gabrielle too), judge, jury & executioner. Because despite her business-like approach when they arrived in Egypt, Xena’s ability to remain detached and objective is under pressure, especially as all the players in her game reveal themselves and their motivations resolve into finer focus.

And there’s something about Marc Antony. He’s truly unnerved Xena. Because he didn’t play by her rules, the rules she owed to Rome - and he, a Roman no less. Maybe there would have been a time in her past when this would have endeared him to her, but now it’s left her uneasy. He needles at her resolve, the confidence she has in her plan. There’s a part of her that starts to wonder if she’s mis-read him completely, and that’s the start of a slippery slope into thinking she has mis-read this entire situation. And she doesn’t have the time for back-sliding.

But the problem is this: no matter how she looks at it there’s no clear answer, only devastating consequences if she’s wrong. For herself, for the lives she’s playing with, and probably for most of the known world. Because Rome and her strongmen will stop at nothing to take it all. And that thought never leaves her. Rome is a constant drum beat in her mind: Rome Rome Rome. Xena knows what Rome is capable of, what these three men jockeying for her power are capable of, even if Xena doesn’t know *them*. It echoes in her mind every time one of them is before her - even as Marc Antony’s kisses leave behind a fever in her blood - Rome Rome Rome.

And while her mind whirls constantly, turning over strategy and tactics, she’s tried to keep her heart mostly out of this affair. Left it unburdened by the machinations of statecraft and violent political intrigue. Except for a dull ache - when she thinks about Eve downriver in Alexandria, or when her eye catches Gabrielle in an unguarded moment - Xena could almost believe the desert sun had turned her heart to dust. Almost. Except that ache is there and, like her frustration and unease, it’s been growing more persistent.

Because Xena has more than herself to consider now. Sure, she’s spent the last five years dedicated to preserving the greater good - whether fighting for her closest friends or the nameless, faceless masses - but it’s different now, she’s different, and not just because she has a daughter who needs her to come home. She has Gabrielle too. They have a little family. And even though Xena has loved Gabrielle for years, she feels fiercely protective of Gabrielle’s heart and love now, in a way she’s never felt before, with anyone. But then, maybe it’s not surprising: they did battle demons in hell for each other’s soul. That sort of thing changes everything.

And Xena can see how this is affecting Gabrielle, even if she doesn’t say it out loud. Remembers the pierce of iron through the flesh of Gabrielle’s hands as surely as she remembers it through her own. Rome has robbed them both and Xena sees the weight of it in Gabrielle’s gaze. Sees, too, the way Gabrielle traps her bottom lip in her teeth as Xena smiles seductively at Antony. Watches the flush creep across Gabrielle’s pale skin when Antony’s kisses become more emboldened. Catches the dangerous flash in Gabrielle’s green eyes. The one that hasn’t gone away since they arrived in Egypt. Xena sees and it makes her heart lurch. To watch her beloved watch her take delight in the charms of another. And to know the sight of it is a white hot grip on Gabrielle’s heart. Xena feels the burning clench around hers too.

And this is the Xena we see when she meets Marc Antony under the pyramids. Frustrated and uneasy, heart aching. Tired. Tired of this game and her role in it. Tired of Rome, but mostly tired of all the horrible things that happen by her hand because of Rome. And then there is Marc Antony waiting for her. Disarmingly handsome and charming, unnerving in his refusal to play into her hands, a Roman above all: a pretty boy with pretty words and pretty promises. And like all Romans, she expects the promises to be lies. Except, there’s something in the way he’s played his hand, the way he’s held back all this time, that tells her there might be truth in his words when he tells her he wants her love.

She can sense his confession even before the words are out. Maybe on some level she always knew, had seen the inevitability of this moment even as she refused to believe in the possibility. But his words pierce the haze that has kept her from seeing her own folly. And it’s like lightning in a bottle. The way every frayed nerve snaps and jumps and arcs all at once - the rain of sparks illuminating everything that had left her mind and heart unsettled - in an instant of sudden, total understanding. It steals her breath and slices at her heart, this clear and unbearable realization. What she’s done and what she still has to do to bring this absurd game to a close.

See, she’s made a terrible miscalculation. Because in her mind Roman brutes are heartless. Capable of loving only Rome. And her seduction of Marc Antony was only ever meant to be a power play. How could it be anything more? She had weaponized lust and sex in the past to get the things she wanted, this was to be no different. Except that it was. And her hubris - her prideful overconfidence in her infallible, little plan, coupled with her resolute belief that all Roman men are Caesar at their core - has led her to overplay her hand. Not that she won’t still find a way to win. It’s just the cost will be much higher than she could have anticipated.

Because she has unwittingly weaponized Marc Antony’s affection for her and now she is going to have to deliberately use it against him. It is devastating. To see his chest bared to her so willingly, and to know that she must flay his heart with a knife of his own making. It shakes her resolve. It brings tears to her eyes.

But of course it brings tears to her eyes. She has done the unthinkable: she herself has become Caesar. The thing she hated most. The man who won her trust and her love and then betrayed her. Cold and hard and heartless. Brutal and ruthless and willingly so. In this moment she is Caesar. And soon she will become Rome, sacrificing another man, who might yet have been good, in the name of her unrequited love.

This moment under the pyramids is so important. Everything hangs on this declaration from Marc Antony, on Xena’s tears. I know people see it as confirmation of Xena’s feelings for him - and she has feelings to be sure - but they’re not romantic. Xena’s emotional reaction, and the genuine unease she wears thereafter do not hinge on her being in love with him. Xena’s humanity is enough to soften both her heart and her regard for Antony in this moment. Her compassion and regret are not dependent on attraction or attachment. And so the story doesn’t need to frame her tears for Marc Antony as a lover’s heartbreak, because her heart was always going to break for him, as it breaks for herself and Gabrielle and the ruin left in their wake.

And there will be ruin. Xena is certain of it. Although, for a moment, she might have held a glimmer of hope for Antony. This Roman who’s willing to give up his army for love. For love. Not that she wants what he’s offering. She just wants to believe he could be different. Not for her. For Rome. But then his sword is hilt deep in the belly of one of Brutus’ men and then slicing through the throat of another. And Xena knows - even as she and Gabrielle dance around the subject hours later, bathed in moonlight and disquiet - that any hope for him is misplaced. Knows exactly what he will do with Brutus’ army and Octavius if he prevails. Is keenly aware of what awaits if he learns of her deception and is allowed to live.

Because once upon a time she was the one who trusted and loved and was betrayed and lived. And thousands paid the price at the end of her sword for Caesar’s treachery. Xena can’t even imagine what Marc Antony, favoured son of Rome, might do. Can’t risk the chance. So he must pay the price at the end of her sword too. Xena wishes it weren’t so, tries to avoid the fight that will take his life - because now that she’s seen the humanity in her enemy she wants no further part in this madness she’s helped to orchestrate - only she doesn’t have a choice now. Alea iacta est - the die is cast, and her blade and her betrayal find Antony’s heart all the same. And when the end comes, there’s Xena, soaked in blood and rain and tears, in the middle of this fucking mess, the dead and wounded scattered about her. She can’t escape the truth of it then: she did this.

And it’s this! All of this - the many layers of trauma in need of reckoning and Xena’s tangled heart, twisted further by the part she is forced to play in Egypt and the goddamn fucking senselessness of it all - that carries the emotional weight of the episode. Who needs a Boyfriend of the Week when there’s already all this angst?

And, ok, I hear you say: Pattie, you’ve made some valid points about Xena’s state of mind, but why can’t Xena’s emotional and moral conflict be born from this fraught personal history AND from the fact that she *was* falling in love with Antony? Wouldn’t that make it an EVEN MORE dramatic and powerful story? Because she was specifically falling in love with a ROMAN GENERAL, the very epitome of the thing she has spent most of her adult life hating?

I would like to agree with you, dear skeptical reader, but the simple truth is that there isn’t room for both in *this* story. The reality is this: a 44-minute-long, action-focused show like XWP just doesn’t always have a lot of extra time to linger on the emotional beats. And this episode, in particular, already so busy with all the palace and political intrigue, has even less. So much of what we’re able to read of Xena’s psychological state - and *why* it’s so deeply fraught - doesn’t even come from this episode. It relies on past emotional beats to inform our understanding of her behaviour. (And, I don’t know, perhaps this is why a casual viewer might pass off Xena’s and Marc Antony’s interplay as romantic - because most of the horrible things that have happened to Xena by Roman hands are left unsaid, and surely, if we’d been reminded of them we would never accept that Xena would fall in love with a golden boy of the empire.)

As it is, there’s barely space for any kind of meditation on how either Xena or Gabrielle are feeling about the roles they are being forced to play and the seemingly callous and ruthless tactics they increasingly use to do so, let alone a tenuous romance. And the former is what this episode should be actively engaging with: the moral ambiguity that has been driving season five and will continue on through the end of the series.

Further complicating things with a love story, doesn’t make the episode more dramatic, it just takes up emotional bandwidth that could be better served elsewhere. Because, yes, Marc Antony is the epitome of the thing Xena has spent more than a decade hating! Xena’s history with Caesar and Rome (and everything they both stand for) is richly layered and devastating. It cannot be erased or ignored. To suggest that she is capable of falling in love with Antony (and to ask us to then believe it) without also deliberately exploring the tension inherent in that act is obtuse.

Those kinds of emotional beats need room to fucking breathe. And the episode doesn’t do this because there’s just too much happening. It tries - in broad, moody strokes - to capture the tenor of Xena’s emotional landscape, and it succeeds in wrapping us up in the same angst that drapes Xena, but the source is nebulous. Her haunted looks and tears - under the sphinx and when her sword finds Antony’s belly - can only telegraph so much, especially when we have been given very little reason to feel invested in her supposed affection towards him.

And here’s where we finally touch on Xena’s checkered romantic history - and her self-proclaimed soft spot for Bad Boys Who Love Like Fools (10 points to Ravenclaw for your patience) - because I’m sure you’re about to suggest that Marc Antony’s air of a Bad Boy is itself cause enough to garner Xena’s affection. Powerful, disarmingly handsome, and charming? Check, check, check. Capable with his ‘sword’? Bonus: super check. But just because her past is littered with dysfunctional relationships and Bad Boys - though I’m sure not all were bad, and some were definitely women - doesn’t mean she’s interested in repeating her mistakes. The Xena of old is vastly different from the one we know by season five, even if there are parts of her that are very much the same.

The principal driving force in her early adult life and formative romantic relationships was lust. It ruled over every part of her. Lust for: power and for violence and for blood and for riches and for infamy, and, of course, for sexual gratification. And so, she sought out partners - themselves driven by the same hunger - who could satisfy all of her desires, not just her (very) carnal appetite. She fell hard and fast and burned white hot until something, or someone, else came along and made her feel even more incandescent. In those early days, Xena wasn’t looking for *love*, she was looking for a good time.

Now, that’s not to say Xena’s past romantic entanglements were frivolous or lacking in genuine sentiment. At the very least, I suspect many were sustained by the warm affection that comes naturally from the intimacy of sharing your life with someone, whether they’re riding into battle alongside you or just warming your bed over a long winter. Nor is it meant to be dismissive of whatever fondness she felt for her lovers. Because: not all love looks the same. There are different kinds of love and different ways to love.

For Xena, though, whose heart had been so thoroughly and devastatingly mangled by Caesar’s betrayal, love was immaterial. At best, it was the unintended, if pleasurable, byproduct of a mutually beneficial arrangement. At worst it was a weakness that her enemies could exploit. Mostly, it was just a silly notion to scoff at. And the feeling Xena would come to associate with love - whether she acknowledged it as such, or not - was informed by both the dynamics of her relationships with Bad Boys and her own dark, irrepressible designs. It was selfish, and often cruel. Grounded in hot blooded impulses and savage desire, rather than growing out of an honest and patient connection.

And it became so thoroughly ingrained in her psyche. It was her overriding view of love. Even after she came to recognize how different love could be - and look and feel - once it was no longer centred in selfishness, when it was open and giving and kind, it was a struggle for Xena to undo her conditioning, to rewrite her love language. Because: first, she had to accept that she was worthy of this new kind of love, and then she had to actually accept it once it was offered.

But, old habits die hard, even for Xena, and I’m sure there were times - when she was just beginning to reframe how she viewed love and was learning how to reopen her heart - that she slipped back into her outmoded ways of thinking. Conflating lust with something else; allowing herself to be tempted by dalliances with partners who stoked her selfish desires, instead of tempering them. And maybe if Xena had crossed paths with Marc Antony then - back at the beginning of the series when her history with Rome was still messy but not nearly as tortuous as it is by the end of season five (you know after Britannia and its fallout which was the beginning of The Rift, and the deaths of Crassus and Ephiny and Pompy and the countless others who were the collateral damage surrounding those events, and, of course, Xena’s & Gabrielle’s own death on the cross) - I’d be willing to believe that she could love him.

Because, at one time Xena might have been interested in a man like Antony, might have been able to look past the Roman tunic and pursued him, taken in by his magnetism and allure. But by this point in the series Xena just isn’t interested, and not because her duplicity has made it impossible for her to be, but because by now her entire understanding of love - of being loved and giving love and nurturing it and making room for it to grow - has fundamentally changed. It’s been re-centred in selflessness, and everything that Marc Antony represents is antithetical to this new appreciation.

And I get that there’s an argument in here somewhere, that suggests Xena’s new approach to love might have softened her heart in such a way that she’s both able and willing to see the man behind the General, and be open to loving him too. But I would argue that the very things, the very people, whose love has transformed Xena’s heart are also the very things that would stop her from ever letting her heart go there. It’s not just that her point of reference on love has changed, it’s that she’s had years now of lived experience to break that cognitive dissonance between her attitude - knowing the kind of love she wants, the kind of love that’s *good* for her - and her behaviour - choosing that reaffirming, selfless love instead of the tempestuous, selfish one. She’s not blind to her past weaknesses, she knows exactly the sort of temptation Marc Antony offers - as surely as Gabrielle does the moment she lays eyes on him - but recognizing it is not akin to considering it. Because: Xena’s already found the love she needs and wants (and knows she’s earned and deserves).

Ok, but what of Xena’s admission on the balcony, when she cops to having a soft spot for Bad Boys Who Love Like Fools? I think it’s less about admitting (to herself as much as Gabrielle) that she’s developed romantic feelings for Marc Antony, as it is about Xena acknowledging a certain sort of fondness she feels for these ‘Bad Boys’. A fondness that’s born from a mutual understanding. Because: I think Xena sees herself in these men - at least an earlier version of herself - when she was ‘bad’ and foolhardy at love, and her heart tugs at the memory of it. Some curious mix of nostalgia and empathy, that softens her regard for them.

And she certainly sees herself in Marc Antony. The parallels between her story with Caesar and the story she’s now playing out with Antony are unavoidable, and if she’s cast herself as Caesar in this shadow play then Marc Antony is her younger self. Of course she would have a soft spot for him, she knows how this story ends. Knows, specifically, what it’s like to be willing to give your trust and your love only to be betrayed in return. And, of course, it’s made only more complicated with the knowledge that she’s the one who will ultimately be his ruin.

So, finally, exhausted and exasperated and, like 7,000 words into this, I hear you ask: what does it really matter? Xena doesn’t choose Marc Antony in the end, so what does it matter if it was lust or love or guilt or a fucking mid-life crisis that was driving her in this episode? Well, dear, patient reader: it matters because Gabrielle deserves better (THIS IS A BOLD STATEMENT, I KNOW, AND IT’S NOT AN INDICTMENT ON XENA’S CHARACTER EITHER, IT’S JUST THAT I FEEL VERY PROTECTIVE OF GABRIELLE’S HEART, OK! AND THE ONE THING THIS EPISODE DOES IS GIVE GABRIELLE THOSE LITTLE BEATS WHERE WE LINGER ON HER VISIBLE REACTIONS TO XENA’S TETE A TETE WITH ANTONY AND SHE’S CLEARLY JEALOUS AND HURT AND WORRIED AND SO, LET’S NOT LOSE SIGHT OF THE FACT THAT HER EMOTIONAL STAKES ARE ALSO INCREDIBLY HIGH IN THIS EPISODE, NOT JUST BECAUSE HER LIFE PARTNER IS SEDUCING SOME DUDE, BUT ALSO BECAUSE THE LEVELS OF BRUTALITY SHE’S INCREASINGLY HAVING TO EMPLOY ARE ALARMING. AND SO, SOMEONE IN THE WRITER’S ROOM WAS THINKING ABOUT THIS WHEN THEY WERE OUTLINING THE STORY - UNDERSTANDING THAT THERE’S AN UNDERCURRENT IN XENA’S & GABRIELLE’S RELATIONSHIP THAT WOULD MAKE SEEING XENA WITH ANTONY UNCOMFORTABLE, BUT THEN NOT ALSO RECOGNIZING THAT THAT SAME UNDERCURRENT WOULD MAKE IT EQUALLY UNCOMFORTABLE FOR XENA. AND IT’S JUST LIKE: TEAM, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO DO THAT TO GABRIELLE? HER HEART MUST HAVE BEEN IN A TERRIBLE STATE. AND WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE XENA COMPLICIT IN THIS?)

But, seriously, I’ve spent all this time diving deep into this episode and the ways it comes up short and why, and while I’ve alluded to it, I’ve mostly avoided the elephant in the room.

We need to talk about Gabrielle.

Because: Gabrielle is at the heart of why a romance between Xena and Marc Antony feels contrived and unconvincing. At this point in the show, it’s clear Xena & Gabrielle are fully and completely committed to each other (and, yes, I know that doesn’t necessarily preclude either of them from also seeking romantic or sexual partners elsewhere... I just don’t think they’re the sharing types, but I DIGRESS) - I mean, we *just* had ‘Kindred Spirits’ where they were nesting and talking about domestic bliss and privately teasing each other about their sex life in the most blatant way possible and failing miserably at breaking up but winning at being cute and married and adoringly in love. And I think it’s important to acknowledge the weight of Xena’s decision to very clearly have Gabrielle as her *life* partner - because implicit in the act of choosing to commit yourself to another person is a vow of fidelity, a bond that would be near-holy to Xena, whose word means everything.

But more to the point: Xena loves Gabrielle and Gabrielle loves Xena, and their love has been the beating heart of this show from the beginning. Gabrielle’s care and tenderness has been transformative - everything that Xena has come to understand about love, everything that she does to honour and protect it, is because of Gabrielle and the heart she’s so selflessly given of. And it’s this love story - and how the show has framed its slow and beautiful unravelling - that becomes the bench mark, the gold standard, for how all other love stories in this universe should be viewed, for how Xena, herself, now views love.

So, I guess what I’ve been saying all along is this: Xena can’t possibly be falling in love with Marc Antony because she’s already in love. Deeply, profoundly, bound-for-all-eternity in love. And no one, in this life (or any other, let’s be real) will ever compare. Not pretty boys with pretty words and pretty promises. Not Bad Boys Who Love Like Fools. Not even a god himself. There is only Gabrielle.

#xena #xena warrior princess #xwp #otp: for i am dying of such love #xena and gabrielle #S05E18: Antony + Cleopatra #pattie has some thoughts #the fucking audacity #i still cannot even

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auroras-blend · 4 years ago

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Do It For Her

Summary: Pastor John Marks and Emilie Marks reflect on what to do after the custody case is decided. Takes place between chapter 6 & 7.

TW: Past rape mention, miscarriage, infertility, crisis of faith

“Don’t lose faith,” her husband said softly, “This isn’t over.”

Emilie was numb, feeling emptier than when she realized she couldn't carry a child in her womb. Tears softly rolled down her face, her eyes turning glossy as they gazed out of the windshield and at her home. Just a few hours ago, Marilyn was here. “They took my baby,” she finally whispered.

“Mr. Holmes is already filing an appeal. It must be a mix-up, we’ll figure this out,” John insisted, “Emilie…”

She felt her husband’s thumb wipe away her tears as he pulled her face to look at him, and when she met his own brown eyes, she broke down. “She called me mommy,” she sobbed as she buried his face into his neck while he took her closer into his embrace, “She called me mommy, John.”

Her body heaved with sobs, “They took our little girl and are giving her to...to...that monster!”

She tried, she had tried so hard to speak no evil against other people despite the sins they’ve committed. But this man...the father...he truly was a monster and they were giving a child to him. Emilie had felt a surge of overprotectiveness the first night Marilyn came to stay with them and it only amplified when the nature of her father was revealed. When she heard of his crimes, she knew at that point she would kill for her daughter. Her soul be damned! For Marilyn.

“She’s in the system. She’s not with him yet. There's still time,” John said with religious fervor, trying to convince himself that things would be okay as much as he was trying to convince his wife, “We’ll get her back.”

Her shoulders shook as grief wet her husband’s shirt, and she felt John’s own pain as the first of his tears met the back of her neck. “It’s not over,” he whispered again.

God willing. Please watch over Marilyn.

***

Emilie was busy cleaning the house for the sixteenth time as they waited for Mr. Holmes's arrival to discuss their options. The house smelled strongly of lemons as she scrubbed each surface roughly. She didn’t particularly like cleaning, but there was nothing else to do except being alone with her thoughts and she did not want to do that. John, knowing she needed this time, was reading his Bible, or at least it looked like he was. Her heart ached knowing that he felt like he needed to be the strong one, that he felt he had to hide himself away as he cried in grief over losing their daughter. Every night, she heard Marilyn call out to her, saying “Mommy!” again and again.

The loss felt as strong as it had when she got pregnant for the first and only time, before losing her child in the first trimester. She hated that she believed that for a moment she was a mother, that she had a child. The pain was unbearable and she swore never to go through this again. No more trying after this. I can’t…

The door rang, startling her but she played the role of a good wife and wiped her hands on her apron before opening the door. She went through the polite motions of removing Mr. Holmes's coat and putting it on the rack before leading him into the kitchen for refreshments. John, for once in his life, was all business. It was alarming to see him get down to brass tacks rather than first ask how someone was doing. Well, he did, but it was too quick. Mr. Holmes seemed in no way offended though, bless him.

“I’d just like to say how sorry I am that we did not get the outcome we wanted,” he apologized his face flushing red.

“There’s no need to apologize. You did everything you could, but please, help us now to get Marilyn back,” he said, his tone being the one he used to comfort their congregants.

Emilie observed the portly man who had begun to sweat in his brown tweed suit while loosening his red bow-tie. She immediately knew how the conversation would go when he swallowed the water nervously and wiped the sweat off of his brow with his handkerchief. Dear Lord… “Before we resume, I have to tell you a little bit more about Marilyn’s father…”

What he revealed to her next made her sick and went pale in shock. Marilyn’s father was...oh it was so much worse than she thought and it made it all the harder for her to come to terms with the fact Marilyn was going to live with him. She was right in her assessment. He’s a monster. She tried to focus on her worry, as much as she tried to avoid it earlier, instead of the wave of guilt when she realized exactly how that precious little girl was conceived.

Patience was very much a social pariah, and Emilie had done her best to make her feel welcome and included as part of her job as the pastor's wife, but she never really made the effort to include her in her social circles. Patience never seemed interested, and Emilie eventually gave up and respected her space.“It’s just how she is…” but now she knew that Patience was made that way by...that man. She had her own petty and snobbish assumptions of Patience’s past, believing that she was made of loose character and partnered with someone of equal moral fiber, which resulted in an out-of-wedlock pregnancy and single-motherhood. She had condemned her for being so negligent towards Marilyn, because “she chose to have and raise the baby”, but no. Patience didn’t choose it at all. She had no choice.

Her heart broke for the woman, and finally understood the bitterness she had in her but for once was in awe of her overwhelming bravery. Emilie could barely imagine such a petite woman taking down the mob. The mob! She prayed for forgiveness, for Patience’s brave soul, and for her daughter. There was no excuse for how Patience treated Marilyn, but it certainly did explain things and she couldn't cast her down any longer. “Why was this not brought up in court? How is it even possible that he received custody?” John asked angrily, not directed towards Mr. Holmes but to the corrupt system that Leonardo Borghese had utilized to obtain his daughter.

“It’s very complicated...family court typically has a preference for placing the child with living relatives. Her father wanted her and has the means to provide for her,” Mr. Holmes explained.

“He’s a rapist!” Emilie said, venom seeping in the last word, “He didn’t get a parking ticket. He got convicted of felony rape and they’re giving a child, a little girl, to him.”

“It’s a miscarriage of justice,” Mr. Holmes said simply.

“Did you know about this?”

“I-I didn’t,” Mr. Holmes stuttered, “Well...I didn't know who he was, but…”

“We have to get her back. We have to save her from him, John,” Emilie wept and squeezed tightly when John reached for her hand.

If he hurts her...no. No, no, no. Please Lord, spare her. Don’t let him hurt her.

“We will,” he nodded at her before turning to Mr. Holmes, “What’s our next step?”

Mr. Holmes sighed and looked away briefly, trying to find the strength from the cross by their window to say what he had to say next. “Right now, it pains me to say this, but right now it’s in your best interest to...to drop the matter entirely.”

It was like an explosion went off because she could feel her world shake. “What?” John asked, grinding his teeth.

“Leo-Leonardo Borghese is a powerful man. A dangerous man. I’m sure that he still...he still has his hands in matters in the States while he’s in Italy. It’d be...be dangerous to try and cross him in this matter,” he stuttered.

“I don’t understand. You want us to give up?” she asked, unsure if she heard that right.

He wants us to stop fighting for our child? Against a rapist! “For your safety and well-being, yes,” Mr. Holmes said frankly.

“What about Marilyn’s well-being?!” Emilie demanded.

His silence was telling. Leave her behind. It’s not worth fighting. “No. The Lord tells us to maintain justice and do what is right,” John said firmly, “We won’t allow ourselves to abandon a child who is in danger.”

“Patience Winslow didn’t take him down just to have her daughter fall into his hands,” Emilie said without a tremor in her voice, “She won. We can too.”

“We all knew Patience. Did it look like she won?”

That question silenced her. Patience put Leonardo Borghese away, but she went away looking like she was the one who was defeated. Leonardo was a prisoner for five years, but Patience was a prisoner in her own mind and trauma for the rest of her life. And she died in that prison. “All the more reason we can’t leave Marilyn,” Emilie’s eyes beaded with tears.

We have to do it for her. She needs us.

“I apologize, I truly sincerely do, but I-I have a family. I-I won't go against Leonardo Borghese,” he said shakily, “You’re good people. Good Christians, so please take my advice and listen when I tell you to drop it. Please, for all of our lives.”

Emilie shut her eyes and she felt John breathe slowly next to her, his hot breath fanning onto her cheek. “We don’t want to put you in a situation where you don’t feel safe, so you are no longer obligated to continue this case, but…” John said kindly.

Emilie opened her eyes and looked at him, listening to him speak. “We’ll take your advice into account but we’ll still discuss if we wish to proceed.”

“I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors,” Mr. Holmes said warmly, “And I pray you find the resolution you deserve, but time is of the essence. Marilyn will be traveling to Italy in only a few days' time. Whatever you decide to do, do it quickly.”

The husband and wife nodded before showing Mr. Holmes out. The minute the door clicked, John spoke. “I don’t want to put you in danger, Emilie…”

Listen. Listen to him first. “It’s my job to protect you,” he said, placing his firm guiding hand on her shoulder and lifted her chin so her eyes met his.

“Who will protect her?” she asked.

If he says, God, so help me…Emilie’s maternal drive kicked in, blasphemously believing that no one could protect her child better than her. Not even God. She resolved to repent later. “You teach us to be brave, that God tells us to defend the weak. Is it not hypocritical if we stand aside and do nothing?”

Perhaps her tone was too challenging because John frowned but he must’ve not seen it as too much of an egregious act enough to correct her. “We stood aside and listened to people look down on Patience, speak evilly about her without knowing what she went through. She told no one, she didn’t look for glory or sympathy. John, we owe it to her to protect her daughter. We owe it to Marilyn to give her a good life.”

Her tone was pleading and even if it wasn't in Pastor Marks's moral fiber to agree, he’d do it anyway when he saw the desperation on his wife’s face. He moved his hands from her shoulders to delicately pick up her hands, holding them warmly.

“Then let’s get to work.”

#once upon a dream #emilie marks #pastor marks #me just churning out one-shots now that i've finished writing the childhood arc?#more likely than you think #my heart breaks for the marks

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 138 prt 2

“I don’t think I want to imagine that”

Mami would have rocked it. Keith imagined her sneaking her chocolates with a bottle of vodka giving the double finger to Sendak if she could have. Chocolates and her abundant supply of love were the only two things she zero self control over. Lance nodded, sucking down a breath, tone slightly dejected before levelling then growing wobbly

“Probably safer... but, yeah. I... the family gave me a lot of things that she’d left behind when we moved. I tried to go to the nursing home, you know, to thank them, but Coran made me stay in for observation. Luis cleaned her room out and took her things. He had the nerve to lose it at me for paying for her funeral...”

Lance started shaking again in his arms. Keith rubbing the top of his arm as if he was trying to warm him up

“Babe. Don’t go there. Luis isn’t your responsibility”

“I know, but without Mami... I won’t hear about them again”

That was true. Luis wouldn’t be rushing to call

“Pidge could change that. She can stalk down thin air and pull up all its credit card charges”

“I think Pidge would bite his ankles in real life if she knew. I wanted to... to be able to talk to them at the funeral, but Coran pulled enough magic to get me there as it was... and I wasn’t ready yet. She and Papi are together now. I wanted her buried in Garrison, but she’s in Platt. I’m talking too much”

Lance wasn’t talking too much. He’d held all this in as he waited for Keith to come home to him. He was glad Lance was telling him what he wanted in his own words instead of by letter

“You’re not. You miss your mum. From what you’ve said, you’ve made a lot of good memories”

“I suppose. I mean, I did. I know I’m very lucky I had all this time with her... really lucky considering all things. I wish I hadn’t broken my phone”

“Shouldn’t it back up?”

“I don’t know how it really works. It’s like one of your Blade phones but it’s pin locked instead of iris encoded. Laptop’s kind of the same. It’s a Coran special”

“We can ask him”

“I hope it’s backed up... I need to stop talking about this... I can’t... I’ve been so whiny. Even when I came back from Sendak, through to now, my mental health’s been shit and all I’ve done is worry everyone. Four months isn’t like long for a vampire but it is for a human”

“I literally think you’re entitled to let it out”

“I keep showing... I keep showing the wrong sides”

There were no wrong sides to Lance. Okay. Maybe 4 months wasn’t that long to a vampire but it was a fucking looooong arse four months. They’d barely had three weeksish before he was off to Rome... meaning... it was like 6 weeks he’d had quality time with Mami... and shy of a month since her passing.

Lance was allowed to have feelings. His feelings made him who he was. It wasn’t like Keith didn’t feel guttered over the loss of Mami too. He kind of wanted to just lock Lance away and cry until his head throbbed and the pain was gone

“Because I’m so much better?”

“You are. I haven’t asked you much about Europe. I haven’t asked if you’re okay. I haven’t asked how things went down. I haven’t asked about the court case or this thing about Lotor killing Zarkon. I... haven’t... even asked you... how anyone is...”

“Babe. I only got in last night. This is our first proper conversation. I want to know what you’re feeling and thinking”

“I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling. Running seems so much easier. But... then there’s all the things I’m waiting to hear back about. Mami’s will. Her accounts. What to do with her things she’a got stored at home. If the nursing home got the flowers I sent as a thank you for all they did for her. If I chose the right clothes Mami. If I did the right thing. If it wasn’t her time to go and I did nothing...”

Lance kept telling himself to shut up. To stop talking about Mami. That Keith had been through so much away from him that he was probably more tired than he was letting on. He tried to shut up but he couldn’t not think about Mami. She’d adored Keith. She kept a photo of him on her nightstand. Well, it was him, Keith and an ultrasound photo between them.

When Keith started leading him away from the kitchen, Lance didn’t want to move. He had to have breakfast, have his shot, then have something actual to eat. Instead Keith tugged him along, pulling him down to sit in his lap on the sofa. That Keith had come back was a miracle. That he’d stayed... Lance couldn’t describe how much he’d needed to see Keith. Then he went and ruined things because he couldn’t stop thinking about his Mami...

“You’re overthinking”

Geez. No shit. He’d expected a joyous reunion with Keith. Mami teasing them. Not Keith coming home to this. He wanted to feel happy so badly, but Keith... Keith made it too easy. He’d feared last night they’d never talk again as they had. Now he’d word vomit... after too much actual vomit

“I think I’m... not being strong enough”

He’d cried as he confessed his sins to his Mami. How he’d killed Sendak. His Mami taking his hands and telling him that it wasn’t fair for him to be blaming himself. She went to church with him. Before God he’d prayed. He’d confessed everything, as if it’d offer some absolution for his sins. He did feel marginally better when he didn’t burst into flames. It was hard to accept that the world was safer by taking a life. Mami pointing out that Sendak was the worst of everything a vampire could be, though she got it. She got that he grieved not for the monster he’d killed but at the loss of Sendak ever changing his ways. Vampires didn’t really work that way, but she... she got it because she wasn’t a hunter. She could see that he was worse than Nyma and Rolo, but she could see that he felt worse about the actual ending of potential than killing the monster inside Sendak’s skin. She was a better therapist than Coran.

They’d headed to the beach that morning, after his nightmare. Blazing hot sun didn’t exactly lure vampires out for a spot of sun baking and spontaneous combustion between snacking on the necks of tourists. Setting up the umbrella, chairs and fetching drinks, they’d settled down and Mami had told him about his first time swimming there. Rachel carried him everywhere. Made him a “hat” out of seaweed. He’d screamed and screamed, until Mami took it off his head. The sun had felt amazing. He wasn’t too pregnant looking, so he enjoyed taking his shirt off, only to burn himself for his efforts. Mami had laughed at him as she rubbed aloe vera on his sunburn.

It’d been hard to hear about times when they’d been so happy together. Just kids doing kid things. But a lot of Mami’s stories he hadn’t heard before, and some stories he heard over and over yet didn’t mind in the slightest. She was so proud of her brood. Making all these future plans and laughing over how he and Keith were going to be clumsy parents, but that was okay because no one knew what they were doing at first.

“You’re strong. You’re so strong”

Keith kissed his cheek. Lance knew he was starved of physical affection. He knew because he’d been depriving himself of it. He felt like “King Douche” that his boyfriend came back to this. That he needed to stiffen his upper lip and carry on. He knew he’d been a total dick not contacting Pidge or Hunk, but to begin with it’d been for their safety. He hadn’t let them see him at VOLTRON, though knowing they were also grieving Mami’s loss. Asking for more space on top of so much space already granted to him seemed incredibly selfish. He loved Pidge and Hunk, but it was like with Sendak again, he was scared of losing himself in his grief and hurting them.

He’d never wished he was more human than in the aftermath of that shit with Sendak. Lance knew if it was his friends going through this he’d be telling them it was okay. To let go. To grieve for as long as they needed and that he’d be there the whole time for when they were ready. But that didn’t apply to him. He had... he had o carry himself a certain way... anxiety fed paranoia that if he wasn’t the perfect friend they’d never speak to him again. Keith... Keith just... all he had to do was breathe and Lance was falling more in love with him. He’s tried building his walls back up when he set his mind to Keith never coming for him, but all his walls were sandcastles, crumbling under Keith’s feet as he trampled over Lance’s attempts and wrapped him up in love. He... he’d been so awkward and embarrassed how easily he’d caved into Keith. Now Keith was taking the time to fix his broken bits. His boyfriend hated the tourist masses but that was Varadero’s main source of income.

Placing his hand on his belly, Lance settled his breathing back down slowly. Keith didn’t hate his belly. He’d felt their twins starting to move. Like little has bubbly gas bubbles. When he’d spotted blood coupled with weird stomach pain, he’d thought he was dying but his Mami explained to him about things stretching and moving to make space. Coran was worried about his body not being strong enough to make it to term. Despite brewing in a vampire filled with vampire blood, both their kids returned human DNA. Never did he want another long arse needle in there again. Their babies passed their genetics tests. They just had to put up with him and Keith now

“Babe?”

“It’s okay. You said you wanted to see Cuba?”

“Well I came all this way. I’ve never been here before and I’m already madly in love with my tour guide”

Lance groaned at his boyfriend. If Keith turned that charm on everyone he’d probably be an unstoppable conman of the highest degree. His ego loved the flattery. He and it had many an mental disagreement. Now Keith was fanning it back to life

“You’re a menace. I have to eat. I’ve... been going through the motions but I have to eat before we go out. And... we’ll drive. I’ll drive. I don’t have much to hide this bump”

“I don’t mind it. I think it’s cute”

“The world isn’t ready for a pregnant vampire and his lover. This is Cuba. I’ve got a jumper I use if I absolutely can’t avoid going out...”

“In this heat?”

“You get the boyfriend with a covered outside or you get the boyfriend inside with the bump showing. You can’t have both”

“I definitely want both. I love your stomach. You looked so good bouncing on my dick with that bump showing”

Lance choked on air. Keith was a damn horn dog!

“I’m going to punch you in the dick if you don’t start thinking things through. I’m going to put you in “Horny Hunter Jail” if you don’t settle down”

Keith shrugged

“I can live with that”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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seokoloqy · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Who Will Rule?

➳ PAIRING: hoseok x reader x namjoon

➳ GENRE: royal!au, interactive

➳ WORD COUNT: 6.1k

➳ WARNINGS: some blood, nothing much

➳ SUMMARY: The king’s bastard son, Hoseok versus Namjoon, the adopted crown prince. Their kingdom is in shambles struggling to figure out who deserves to become their next king. You end up stuck in the middle of their dilemma, discovering new sides to both men as they learn to accept the truth of their birthrights.

➳ A/N: HEADS UP FRIENDS!!! this is an interactive fic!!! This means at the end of each chapter will be a choice and your choices will lead the story and shape your relationship w each character! So I hope you’ll enjoy this wild ride w me

—

“Something wrong?” Yoongi peers into the moving carriage as he walks alongside it, ensuring it’s safe arrival to your destination. He wears a face of worry, hoping you’re not too stressed about the visit to your neighboring kingdom.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, leaning your head against the cushioned seat. Your chest puffs out as you breathe in the chilly air, fingers absentmindedly twirling around each other in circles. “I’m just nervous that’s all.”

The carriage dips slightly when Yoongi stops walking alongside it and he hops onto the side step to lean in further. He rests his arms on the open window, taking a closer look at your expression. “Were you gossiping with your ladies maid again?”

You purse your lips, turning away from Yoongi with a pout and confess, “Yes.”

Often when you were getting dressed in the morning your ladies maid would do your hair and spill all the latest gossip spreading around the castle. The news of your neighboring kingdoms trouble seems to be the latest edition of gossip spreading throughout all the kingdoms.

“The bastard son or the adopted crown prince,” your ladies maid said in a foreboding, storytelling voice as she did your hair.

She spoke of the neighboring kingdom and its current king. With their king unexpectedly falling ill and no good news of his deteriorating condition, they need a king soon, even if the young crown prince, Namjoon, is still learning the ways to properly run a kingdom.

But, your ladies maid exclaimed, leaning in closely to whisper in your ear, in a fever-induced state the king revealed his longest, darkest kept secret—the truth of his secret affair with a maid and the crown prince's true identity.

The king had revealed to the entire court that Namjoon was not his biological son, automatically making Namjoon ineligible to rule the kingdom because he did not share the king’s blood. On top of that, the king also admitted he mistakenly had an affair with a maid who became pregnant and gave birth to a son, his first son, Hoseok. Apparently, the king didn’t divulge any more information than that before passing out.

Now you’re on your way to this broken kingdom to marry the crown prince…whoever he’ll be. This marriage alliance is the one thing that will unite your two kingdoms and now it’s on the brink of collapsing if they can’t come up with a true heir soon.

Although the coronation and wedding have been put on hold as they sort things out, their king gets worse and worse every day. They need to choose a new ruler now and they have no idea who it will be.

With the revelation of new blood and secret adoptions, your marriage alliance and the next ruler are uncertain. If the crown prince has been adopted there’s not a drop of royal blood that flows through his veins which makes him ineligible to rule and if they chose a Hoseok, who has never been educated on the details of running an entire kingdom, it spells doom for its people.

You’ve met the crown prince a few times as a child. Namjoon was groomed for this role since birth, and you could see the dedication he had for the position, along with admiration for his father.

What did it matter if he wasn’t blood? Becoming king is all he has ever known. His position is being threatened by the oldest law, only the king’s bloodline will rule, and you find it unfair for him.

As for Hoseok, your maid didn’t tell you much because no one really knew who he was before the news. They only knew he was raised by his mother and worked at the castle as a servant his whole life with no idea of who his father was.

How can they be choosing between Namjoon, someone who has the knowledge of running a kingdom, versus Hoseok, born out of wedlock and raised in a kitchen by the maid?

“Maybe if the king wasn’t such a whore they wouldn’t be in this mess,” Yoongi admits candidly. “Who knows how many more illegitimate children he has running around?”

“Yoongi!” You gasp, nearly shoving him off your carriage. “Don’t say that!”

Hitting his shoulder doesn’t stop him from continuing.

“Maybe if their king owned up to his mistakes the kingdom wouldn’t be in such shambles right now. Maybe he wouldn’t be dying for his sins,” Yoongi goes on, ranting about how foolish the king had been to let this secret continue till he was on his deathbed.

Your very opinionated and outspoken knight shakes his head in disappointment.

“I hate to send you off knowing how unstable things are there. Your father is too stubborn and irrational sometimes,” Yoongi grumbles his thoughts aloud.

Normally, Yoongi’s criticism of your father would never be uttered anywhere near him, but your bond with Yoongi gives him the confidence that you won’t go spilling his true feelings to your father.

“I mean, an arranged marriage with the crown prince when they don’t even know who it’ll be yet? He must be insane to think proposing marriage right now is the best timing! What if they chose the bastard son? Then you’ll be stuck with him for the rest of your life. Who knows how many daddy issues he has?”

Sometimes you think Yoongi acts more like a father figure towards you than your own father. He obviously cares deeply for you.

His tangent goes on for another minute as he explains all the possible negative outcomes that could happen if you were to marry the bastard son.

“Maybe he’s not that bad,” you shrug. Neither of you has met Hoseok yet. It wouldn’t be smart to make judgments and create biases.

Yoongi gives you a tired look, and asks plainly, “would you rather marry charming prince or the frog?”

“We haven’t met him yet. Don’t be so harsh on just him.”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes, “don’t get me started on Namjoon. I bet he has issues too.”

You’re beginning to feel another one of his long-winded rants coming along. You settle back into your cushioned seat and prepare to relax for your long journey as Yoongi begins his detailed explanation on why both of these men would never be good enough for his princess. It’s so detailed you feel like he had this speech prepared beforehand.

—

You arrive at the kingdom at dawn just as the yellow sun peeks over the horizon, casting everything in its golden hue. The warm smile, as dazzling as the rising sun, you’re greeted with when you ascend the long steps up to the entrance comes as a surprise.

Namjoon stands at the entrance, dressed in his formal attire, dark hair pushed out of his forehead to reveal his stunning beauty. You almost trip up the steps, distracted by his dimpled smile.

Beside Namjoon is a knight, dressed similarly to Yoongi, but in their kingdoms fiery red colors. He stands attentively by Namjoon’s side, watching as you and Yoongi approach.

“It’s good to see you again.” Namjoon’s forced greeting comes out strained and far away.

It’s those few words that make you realize he’s only smiling because he has to. He’s smiling because he can’t show his true feelings in front of you. It’s not hard to understand why especially knowing all that’s happened.

Namjoon even forgets his kingdom’s customary chaste kiss on the cheek because of how distracted he is. So when you lean towards him and he makes no indication to react, you awkwardly pull back to your place besides Yoongi.

“You too,” you reply, offering a close-lipped smile. His mind is elsewhere, and you don’t blame him for his robotic actions. “How is your father doing?”

Your question slips out without much thought, bringing him back to reality. You only realize your error once a glaze forms in his eyes.

Does he still call the king his father after finding out the truth or does it hurt too much to think about the years of lies?

“I apologize,” you bow your head, ears burning from embarrassment, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s alright. But my father is doing fine for now. His condition hasn’t gotten better, but it isn’t deteriorating.”

Nodding, you feel the awkwardness begin to settle like thick smoke.

Yoongi interjects with his blunt statement, “the other one isn’t here. Isn’t he a prince now too? It’s rude of him to not come to greet you. No wonder they call him a bastard.”

“My apologies.” Namjoon bows his head. “I would’ve liked to introduce you to Hoseok, but he isn’t feeling very well.”

You’re almost glad Namjoon interrupted Yoongi so he wouldn’t go off on another rant. But it’s regretful to hear about Hoseok. You’re wondering when you’ll get the opportunity to meet him. Hopefully, he isn’t as dreadful as Yoongi’s vivid imagination paints him out to be.

Namjoon rises from his bow and his eyes catch something behind you. The sound of hooves and wheels squeaking tell you another carriage has arrived. You turn to see the door being opened and two men step out.

“The advisors are here, your highness,” Namjoon’s guard says. “It’s time to go.”

Namjoon lets out a helpless sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, ”thank you, Jungkook. Please, escort the princess to her room.”

Namjoon bids you a quick farewell, promising to speak with you again soon and then descends the stairs to greet the two officials.

As Namjoon ordered, Jungkook leads you into the lavishly decorated castle with Yoongi following in flank. The castle’s grand exterior could never compare to the wonders on the inside.

The floor is lined with white marble and gold accents covering the entire wall. Statues of gods and goddess carrying candelabras stand in the hall facing the windows and the rising sun.

This castle is much more extravagant than the one you grew up in, even Yoongi eyes the decor in absolute amazement.

Once you arrive at your designated room deep in the castle, so deep you wonder how you’ll ever find your way back to the entrance, Jungkook takes his leave with a silent bow and gracious smile before you can even thank him.

“If you end up despising your husband it won’t be hard to avoid him in a palace as big as this,” Yoongi states, once Jungkook is out of hearing. He opens the door for you and the inside is just as well-decorated as the rest of the castle.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

The more and more Yoongi speaks, you find yourself growing anxious over this whole situation. What will you do when they finally chose their king? What if you can never learn to love your husband as Yoongi imagines? Doomed to live a miserable life, avoiding your husband and wishing you could flee.

You step into the room with drooping shoulders and grim face, hidden from Yoongi. Even if he can’t see you, he can sense your distress.

“I just…” he sighs heavily, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder to make you face him. Yoongi makes sure you’re looking him in the eyes before continuing. “Don’t want you to be let down or hurt in the end. That’s all.”

You know how much he cares and he doesn’t say this to harm you, he’s just worried.

You reach out to pull him into a hug, clinging to him as you relieve all of your worries in his arms.

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

—

It’s already past noon by the time you fully settle in. Unfortunately, you knew your time with Yoongi had to come to an end before dusk approached. He had other matters to attend to back in your own kingdom, but he entrusted your care to the knights here, threatening to return with a vengeance if you are ever harmed under their watch.

It was a tearful farewell and watching Yoongi depart on his horse, only made you want to return to your room to wallow. Now you have no one. No one to confide in or feel at home with. But you aren’t going to let yourself get caught up in these feelings and isolate yourself.

With Namjoon busy all day in his meetings and still no sign of this mysterious first son, Hoseok, you spend your time alone wandering the castle and exploring the gardens. All the hedges have been perfectly trimmed, the grass cut and immaculate, not a weed in sight.

Just over the hedges, you spy a group of knights sparring, armor gleaming under the sun each time they move to strike each other with their swords, clashing metal against metal. They go back and forth with one another like an intricate dance.

Your legs unconsciously carry you towards the action.

The knights who aren’t sparing, stand idly to the side of their made-up battleground, some bow to you as you approach. They don’t seem to mind your intrusion, much more interested in the two in the middle who continue to clash swords.

“Good morning, your highness,” one of the knights greet. “How are you doing? I hope our prince, Namjoon, isn’t too busy, but you’ll have to forgive him. With the King’s health declining rapidly there are lots of things to be done.”

You understand that Namjoon is busy with the revelation of his adoption and grieving over his father’s condition. It can’t be helped. However, you wish he would invite you to come along on his meetings so you can have time together. Even if you won’t be speaking much to one another, at least you’d be in his presence and learn more about him as a potential leader. You might be marrying him soon, yet you know nothing about each other.

During your time wandering you spoke to his staff and heard them go on about how much of a gentleman and wonderful person he is, and you don’t doubt them, but you’d like to experience that kindness yourself. It might be foolish to dream, but you’d like to actually be in love with the man you might marry.

“I’ve been good, thank you. I know Namjoon has been busy but I’ve been busy exploring the castle.”

“Well, you stumbled out into the training yard just in time! Sparring is always so much fun to watch.” The knight smiles, his eyes turning into crescents.

“Enough, enough! Are you trying to kill him, Hoseok?”

You’re brought back to the knights sparing, between your conversation with the knight and your thoughts, one of the knights managed to get his opponent on the ground, sword to his throat and cutting just enough for blood to pool.

You didn’t notice it before, being so absorbed in your conversation with the knight, but the man on the ground is Jungkook, the guard who you met earlier.

And they called the other one Hoseok. Could the man sparing be the king’s son? He doesn’t look sick like Namjoon claimed he was.

Jungkook grimaces, trying to shift away, but the sword follows his throat.

“Trying to kill him?” Hoseok, standing above him, muses, pulling the sword away and driving it into the grass close to Jungkook’s head. “This was just for fun.”

Jungkook lies still for a moment, stunned by the proximity of the blade to his face. Even you had frozen for a second when Hoseok drove the blade in the dirt, afraid he would purposefully strike Jungkook.

Glistening with a sheen of sweat as he turns his head to face the others gathered around, Hoseok spreads his arms as if presenting himself for a challenge.

“Who’s next? I can do this all day,” he boasts jokingly.

“I think they need you back to work in the kitchen, Hoseok,” the knight you were speaking to says, jerking his head towards the castle.

Back to work in the kitchen? If this is the Hoseok everyone is gossiping about, why is he not like Namjoon and swamped with royal duties? He’s eligible to become king, but he’s here bantering with knights and sparring.

“Well, this was fun, boys.”

Hoseok moves off Jungkook, offering a friendly hand to pull him up. Jungkook accepts Hoseok’s hand and stands, dusting off the dirt staining his pants after being roughly forced to the ground.

“Jungkook, go get cleaned,” their captain commands, then he gestures toward the knight you were talking to. “Jimin, you’re next.”

“It was fun, princess,” Jimin says, hand moving to unsheathe the sword at his hip. “If you ever need an escort around the castle, feel free to find me. I’m usually out here training or in the kitchen. They make the best cookies there.”

You smile at the generous offer, “thank you, Jimin. Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer soon!”

No one else is going to show you around. Namjoon surely isn’t with his busy schedule. You’d be thrilled to become friends with Jimin.

He waves you goodbye and meets his next sparring partner on the field. You watch as they ready themselves before their captain yells for them to begin. Swords once against clash.

Hoseok approaches you and you’re just about to wave hello, but he passes by without a second glance. Your hand awkwardly moves to fiddle with the pearls around your neck as you turn to watch him stride toward the castle. He pulls off his armor and leaves it to the side near the bushes and then enters through the service entrance.

Maybe he just didn’t see you. Though in a crowd of knights all wearing their armor and you in a simple pink dress, it would be hard not to notice. You’d like to introduce yourself anyway. You finally want to meet the man everyone has been whispering about. You want to prove Yoongi’s theory about him wrong.

You lift your skirts and begin heading toward the same door Hoseok just went through.

“Uh, excuse me, princess!”

You stop walking when you hear someone call out to you, the galloping of horse’s feet also grows close. When you spot the man riding on a brown horse he’s already dismounted and walking toward you, reigns in hand. He isn’t dressed up in any formal attire and smells faintly of the stables.

He bows, taking the brown cap off his head, fluffy dark hair spilling out, and clutching the hat to his chest. His hair is in disarray as he straightens himself, putting the cap back on neatly to cover it.

“Sorry to bother you, princess. I overheard that the crown prince is looking for you in his office. I just thought I’d let you know even though it’s not my official job,” he shyly chuckles, “my name is Taehyung. I’m the stable boy.”

The horse by his side neighs as if also saying hello.

“Ah,” Taehyung adds, patting the horse’s back. “and this is Yeontan.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” you grin, reaching out to stroke Yeontan’s snout. “I should go see Namjoon then.”

Introducing yourself to Hoseok will just have to wait. You don’t want to keep Namjoon waiting. You wave goodbye to Taehyung and head towards the other castle entrance.

—

Once you arrive at Namjoon’s office, after getting lost a few times and asking a maid for directions, you knock on the door twice. Inside you hear his tired, gravelly voice telling you to come in.

As you enter, you see the office is cluttered with books and papers. Every surface is filled with official documents or texts you can hardly find a place to put your foot without stepping on anything.

The mess almost reflects the chaos that must be going through his head. His whole future of becoming king has fallen apart right before his eyes and there’s nothing he can do about it. Also, dealing with his father’s illness, and coming to terms with the truth of being adopted must have him in a lot of stress. Work seems to be his only distraction away from it all.

The fountain pen in Namjoon’s hand spins between his fingers as his eyes concentrate on the papers laid out on his desk. He only glances at you briefly, offering you a tired smile, before going back to staring at the work in front of him.

“I was thinking after my meeting tomorrow we could go into the town and I could show you around personally.”

“Oh, you don’t have to if you’re too busy!”

You don’t want him to feel obligated to spend time with you. He has enough to do already. You’d just feel guilty for taking him away from any important business he has to deal with.

“You’re a guest in my kingdom and who knows, if fate allows it, we might be married. I’d like to get to know you better.”

He looks into your eyes causing your pulse to begin racing. He’s just so charming you can’t help but get flustered.

“Mmh,” you blush, averting your gaze to the floor. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“Perfect. I look forward to spending time with you tomorrow. I’ll see you tonight for dinner.”

That seems to be the end of the conversation and your cue to exit as he picks his pen back up and begins marking his papers again.

You shift your feet, averting your gaze to the floor to ceiling window which has a perfect view of the setting sun coating the garden in a wash of orange, hoping to say more. Maybe you shouldn’t bother Namjoon, but you can’t help but want to talk to him.

“Um, may I ask what you have planned for tomorrow?”

Namjoon hums in thought, looking back up at you and pressing the tip of his pen against his plush lips, “I think a stroll through town and a picnic would be very romantic.”

Your cheeks burn at the word romantic, a suppressed smile playing on your lips. You nod without a word, afraid if you speak your voice will give away how thrilled you are.

“Thank you. Goodbye,” you squeak, quickly curtsying and turning on your heels to exit.

You scurry out of Namjoon’s office. So giddy with excitement for what’s to come tomorrow you don’t notice the figure turning the corner carrying a tray. You two roughly collide with one another. Your shoulder knocks the silver platter out of his hands. The contents of the tray fall over and smash against the floor. Piping hot tea and shards of broken glass scattered across the immaculate marble.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologize, crouching down to pick up the large pieces of a shattered porcelain teacup.

The person you ran into tsks, crouching beside you to help clean up. “Damn it, watch where you’re going next time.”

“I’m sor-” You look up and realize you’ve run into Hoseok, the king’s biological son, the man you saw sparring on the field. His dark hair is pushed out of his face, allowing you to see his downturned brows, clear frustration painting his features.

You’re just about to finally introduce yourself when you feel a sharp pain prick your finger. You yelp and drop the glass back onto the floor when you realize you’ve just cut yourself with it.

“You’re really clumsy,” Hoseok sighs, grabbing your injured hand and inspecting the cut. Your blood seeps from your finger and drips onto the floor. You wince when he envelopes your hand in his. “It’s not that bad. Come on let’s bandage it up.”

Hoseok holds your hand in his and drags you down the hall, abandoning the shards of glass for someone else to deal with.

“I’m really sorry for bumping into you.”

“Stop apologizing to me.”

“S-” You stop yourself from apologizing again by clamping your mouth shut.

You trail behind him, staring at his back. He’s dressed in black like most of the servants, not the finely tailored suits Namjoon dresses in.

You thought Hoseok would be similar to Namjoon, stressed about discovering the truth and his new title as the king’s illegitimate son, but he’s out training with the knights and delivering tea instead. He’s still remaining in his role as the maid’s son.

“You’re Hoseok, right? T-The king’s son?”

Hoseok tenses, the grip on your hand tightening. You wince from the pressure it puts on your cut. Hearing the soft cry, his hand relaxes again.

“So what?” He answers dismissively, pulling open a narrow service door.

You glance to the floor, thinking of what to say. It’s clear he doesn’t like being addressed as the king’s son. “Um, I just wanted to introduce myself to you after I saw you sparring earlier. You were really impressive.”

“Yeah, I saw you out there.”

“Really? I thought you didn’t notice me when you walked by.” He must've been busy and wanted to get back to the kitchen quickly, you think to yourself. It’s reasonable that he couldn’t stop to say hello if that was the case.

“I just didn’t care.”

“Oh…” You murmur, defeated.

You didn’t think Hoseok would be so blunt, a little rude too. You don’t understand why he already seems to dislike you when you’ve only just met. What if Yoongi was right?

Your pace behind him lags and he takes notice, turning around to see your frown.

“Don’t look so glum,” Hoseok says, using his free hand to pinch your cheeks up in an attempt to make you smile. “They’ll think I made you sad.”

But he did make you sad. However, you wouldn’t want the staff to see you upset. It wouldn’t make such a good first impression.

“I’ll try not to,” you nod, attempting to put a smile on your face.

His gaze lingers on your fake smile, frowning slightly, but shakes his head free of his thoughts and pulls open the doors to the hectic kitchen.

Inside the staff is in full swing preparing dinner for tonight. The chefs and sou chefs work in tandem, calling out to one another, but that abruptly stops when the doors shut behind you and everyone’s attention is on you—mainly Hoseok.

Their eyes linger on him, unsure and hesitant as they wonder what to do or say. Do they bow to their new prince or casually say hello to the man they’ve worked with for years as if he were anyone else?

Tension builds as Hoseok drags you towards the back of the kitchen and they idly stand by. Hoseok ignores them, staring straight ahead without a care, similar to the way he ignored you outside. He must be used to the states by now.

“Princess! You’re here!” The familiar voice of Jimin calls to you, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You see him waving at you while leaning against a countertop covered in flour with cookie dough resting on trays. He has a stack of freshly baked ones in his hand and happily continues to munch on them.

Life slowly returns to the kitchen in hushed whispers when Hoseok lets your hand go to search for the bandages and you approach Jimin with your hand behind your back. You don’t want him to worry if he sees your cut.

“You found your way here and with Hoseok too. I’m surprised you've managed to warm up to him already.”

“Warm up? I don’t think he likes me very much,” you sigh, glancing back at Hoseok who’s crouched down and rummaging through a cabinet.

Jimin takes another bite out of his cookie, offering you some from the stack in his hand. You excitedly accept one and take a bite, savoring the chewiness and sweet taste of the chocolate.

“Oh, he’s always that way with royals. He’ll come around once he gets to know you. But he’s been even more on edge ever since the king's confession. Truthfully, we’re all a little confused about what’s happening or what to do.” Jimin looks toward Hoseok, an empathetic look on his face. “Hoseok says he’s fine and he doesn’t want the truth to change anything.”

You both look at Hoseok still looking through the cabinet, an annoyed look on his face as he struggles to find what he’s looking for. A staff member comes to his aid, but he shoos them off. He continues to rummage until he reaches his arm far back to grab the box.

Hoseok begins walking towards you both while searching the contents for what he needs.

It’s obvious that many of the staff are having difficulties adjusting to Hoseok’s new title from the silence that drowned the room when he walked in. It must be hard to continue his life normally, you can understand why he seems to be frustrated.

“Is that why he’s still serving tea?”

Jimin nods, solemnly. “Since he’s a royal now, we do as he says and if he wants to continue serving tea or sparring with us we let him.”

“Does that also mean you let me win sparring matches on purpose?” Hoseok muses, moving beside you, carrying the bandages for your cut.

“You won sparring matches before everyone knew you were a prince,” Jimin mutters sourly, turning his head away with a pout.

Hoseok’s smile turns from playful to a cold empty expression at the mention of prince, but says nothing, letting the commotion of the kitchen drown out the conversation. He turns to you, taking your hand without asking and begins cleaning up your wound with a wet cloth.

“Are you alright, princess?!” Jimin gasps when he sees your injured hand, brows knitted together with worry. “How did that happen?”

You smile to reassure him. “Just a little accident. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“It’s my job as a knight to worry about your wellbeing, princess,” Jimin says, continuing to wear a face of concern, watching Hoseok work.

Jimin reminds you of Yoongi. Always worrying about the smallest things. It’s comforting to have someone familiar around and you’re glad you met Jimin today.

Hoseok’s hand gently wipes around the cut, cleaning off any blood left. As curt as he is speaking to you, he’s gentle with your injury.

You watch his tense expression as he works. You’re wondering what he’s thinking. After your short talk with Jimin, you wonder how he really feels about his true birthright? Is he really fine like he’d like to convince everyone?

You’d certainly feel betrayed by the king for keeping a secret of such magnitude. How does he look Namjoon in the eye knowing everything Namjoon has should’ve been his?

Someone bursts through the doors right then, calling out, “Incoming, Hoseok! It’s the advisors again!”

You recognize the voice as Taehyung, but before you can check to see if you’re right, Hoseok grabs your wrist.

“You’re gonna have to run, princess.”

“Huh?”

Hoseok gathers all your first aid in one hand and with the other wrapped tightly around your wrist drags you out of the kitchen through the service hall just as two officials, the pair from this morning, come through the other door from the dining room.

One of them desperately pleads, “your highness, please stop avoiding this! Someone catch him!”

You lift up your skirts and try to keep up with Hoseok as he dashes down the hall with you in tow, pushing open unfamiliar door after door to escape the royal officials hunting him down.

They must be the same advisors that held a meeting with Namjoon earlier today.

Even when your steps falter his grip on you never wavers, occasionally turning his head to check that you’re able to keep up.

As you both turn a corner, you spot Namjoon emerging from a room, books stacked in his arms and the other hand holding a porcelain teacup. Your rapidly approaching footsteps alert him and he looks up over the rims of his dark-framed glasses, surprised to see you hand in hand with Hoseok dashing through the halls.

You manage to catch his eye, offering a small weary smile as you go by.

He stands stunned, unable to say much but utter your title under his breath in confusion, and watches you pass by in a flurry with your pink skirt breezing behind you.

You’d like to stop and greet him properly, but with Hoseok adamant to flee with you in tow, you doubt he’d like to stop and chat with Namjoon.

With your eyes focused behind you on Namjoon, you lose your balance in your heels, making you stumble out of them. You try your best to slip them back on quickly, but Hoseok’s sharp command for you to hurry forces you to leave them behind. You glance back seeing your white shoes lying on the ground with Namjoon standing just a few feet away still lost in his confusion.

“H-Hoseok, can we stop running?!” You let out an exasperated breath. You’ve already lost a pair of shoes and you’re sure the officials have stopped chasing him.

He pushes open one last door, swinging you into the room and shutting the door behind him. He presses his forehead against the door, breathing heavily.

You’re out of breath but as you observe the room, with its large glass ceiling, revealing the glittering night sky and crescent moon, you look up in awe almost forgetting to breathe. It’s difficult to look away from the sight of a thousand stars in the sky all twinkling brightly. You almost want to reach out and touch them.

“Wow,” you sigh, marveling at the night sky.

Hoseok ignores your wonder, muttering curses about the officials under his breath.

“Sit down over here. I’ll finish putting on your bandages.”

Hoseok moves toward the couch. You sit beside him offering your hand and he begins cleaning your wound again. The focused expression returns as he begins to apply healing cream on your cut.

Your cheeks begin to burn in the silence. Nothing but the ticking pendulum clock fills the room.

“You really didn’t have to help me. I could’ve done it myself.”

“Knights never abandon anyone who’s injured and neither will I,” he responds automatically, his eyes unwavering from his task.

Although you know he’s just a servant, Hoseok seems to spend most of his time with the knights. He seemed close with Jimin and really enjoyed sparing with the knights. He looked so proud just being around them and wearing their uniform. You begin to wonder if he has any desire to become one himself. He has the skill and the heart for it.

But now that he’s considered a royal they’d never allow him to put himself in harm's way and become a knight, and they certainly wouldn’t be okay with him continuing to be a servant. That must be what those court advisors were chasing him about.

“Are you okay with all of this?”

You ask because you’re curious about his thoughts on possibly becoming king, but you also ask because you’re worried about the facade he might be putting on in front of others. Jimin told you that Hoseok tells everyone he’s fine but is he really? Does he accept the truth of his royal blood so easily?

Hoseok looks into your eyes and grimaces. He releases your hand and stands up abruptly, gazing at the floor.

“I don’t need your pity,” Hoseok murmurs. “Don’t be so kind to me just because I’m suddenly the king’s son. If I were nothing more than a servant, you wouldn’t even look in my direction.”

“That’s not true,” you object. You aren’t as shallow as he thinks you are. You aren’t pretending to care about his feelings just because of his status. He’s just as human like you with feelings and you’d like to be someone he can trust and confide in. Bottling up his feelings would only make things worse.

“Just forget it,” he brushes it off, turning away once again. “I’m nothing to you, okay?”

“Hoseok…”

You can feel something in you nearly break from his soft-spoken whisper. He isn’t nothing. You want to find a way to convince him otherwise.

The door opens cutting the moment short, revealing the two court officials from earlier and surprisingly, Namjoon standing beside them as well. In his hands are the shoes you had left behind in your haste.

Hoseok scans the three standing in the doorway. Finally, his eyes settle and narrow on Namjoon.

“Your highness, please let us speak to you,” one of the officials beg.

“Don’t call me that,” Hoseok groans, then points his finger at Namjoon who looks to the floor. Namjoon refuses to make eye contact as Hoseok lets out his frustrations. “Why don’t you speak to him? He’s the crown prince. He’s the one the king chose to rule.”

“It’s not that simple anymore, your highness, you know that,” the second official speaks up in a more serious tone. “And if you continue to run, we won’t hesitate to call the knights to restrain you.”

Hoseok, visibly angered by the officials’ threat, lowers his hand, clenching it into a fist. He looks as if he wants to retort, scream at them to leave him alone. Instead, he stays silent and stares off to the side, neither refusing or agreeing to go with them.

Namjoon looks toward you, politely offering his hand, “Why don’t we go somewhere else and let them have their discussion in private?”

You look between Namjoon’s outstretched hand and Hoseok’s furious expression, conflicted on what you should do.

CHOICE: stay with Hoseok or go with Namjoon

—

PLEASE DON’T FORGET TO CHOOSE HERE!

REMINDER: your choices may affect your relationship with the characters. Please vote wisely :)

#bts #bts fanfiction #namjoon fanfiction #hoseok fanfiction #bts smut #magicshopnet #bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv

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emilianopavone · 4 years ago

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Self Para 003.

Though he questioned the choice as soon as he walked in the door, there were several explanations Emiliano could give for why he was going to church on a Thursday afternoon. The first was his mother, a reminder that if he was meant to be a practicing Catholic it might help to actually practice. The second was mere happenstance, a trip into town for business that made the pitstop convenient if not incredibly ironic. But the third, and perhaps most important reason, was Montgomery. He wasn’t sure why and he wasn’t sure when, but after the second sleepless night wrapped in the man’s arms, it was clear that his magic bullet for quieting his restless thoughts wasn’t so magic anymore.

Emil wasn’t worried about the lost sleep, a problem that had become as familiar as its many remedies, but he was worried about his ability to keep hiding it. Montgomery’s habit for noticing things he didn’t want him to was matched only by his penchant for worrying, so in the interest of heading off a host of questions he couldn’t answer honestly, he decided to take him up on his offer. He decided to talk to someone.

Father Rosario greeted him with patient silence from the other side of the thin black screen, a comforting lie of anonymity when Emil was certain he would recognize his voice as soon as he spoke. The symbolism, however, was not lost on him, and he had faith that if there was anyone in the city he could talk to without fear of repercussions — social, legal or otherwise — it was him. So he went through the motions of a ritual that held more meaning in its familiarity than its sanctity, crossing himself as he finally broke the silence.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two and a half years since my last confession.” It felt like a bad start, but at least it was an honest one, and whether he was out of practice or still searching for the right words, he paused long enough for the priest to prompt him gently along.

“What is it that you came to confess?” There was a neutrality to Father Rosario’s tone that Emil wished he could pin down so he could better emulate it, wondering how long he had practiced before he could ask his parishioners to bear their souls to him as if they were truly free of judgement. He wondered if he or Monty would ever figure out how to do the same.

“Well, I haven’t dedicated as much of my time to God as I should.” Or at least as much as his mother thought he should, and not enough to count time passed since his last confession in months instead of years. “I haven’t always kept the Sabbath or come to Mass. I’ve given into temptation. Temptations,” he corrected, trying to keep anything coy out of his tone when it seemed contrary to the point, “Drinking...a lot. A little less than before, but probably still more than I’m supposed to. Smoking — no drugs though — just the smoking. And sex. A lot of that, too. It’s just with one person now, so I’m not sure if that makes it better.” Emil was fairly certain it didn’t, and he opted to leave out exactly what kind of sex he was having when it was nothing he would apologize for.

“Honor your mother...I could do better with that one. Coveting your neighbor’s possessions, too,” he continued, ticking his way through the commandments and wondering if it was better to list the ones he was following rather than each one he wasn’t. “I’ve been trying not to lie, but I’m not sure that’s the same as telling the truth.” He paused after the words, sincerity surfacing in the midst of a shallow list that made him wonder if that’s what this was. A list of Catholic sins that were all true, but not honest. Stalling more than confessing, and it wasn’t surprising to know Father Rosario had practice with that as well.

“Telling the truth is hard,” he started, neutral tone replaced with warm empathy, “Confession is hard. We have to be at peace with ourselves and the world doesn’t make that easy, does it? It is filled with distractions. Temptations. Things that draw us away from God and make us feel shame. But God is never ashamed of us, that’s what we have to remember. He never stops loving us. Only we can chose to turn away from that love when we let shame block out His light.”

Emil listened quietly, gaze resting on his hands and staying there in the still silence that followed, a long moment that felt like a deep breath. There was a slowness in churches, a disregard for the passage of time that he needed right now. So far removed from the sharp, quick wit of his conversations, of questions that demanded answers, and quiet moments that spoke for him in ways he didn’t want when he couldn’t find the right words fast enough. He appreciated having time that didn’t tick, taking a moment to slip off the plain silver ring that hid his thoughts, playing with it between his fingers like he might have a chance to see them now, too.

“I don’t know if I’m a good person.” Another pause, another breath. “I think I am sometimes. I try to be. But I feel like it’s harder for me than everyone else and I’m not sure what that says about me.” It was a confession he’d already made, less painful the second time he said it out loud, but he wasn’t sure what that said about him either. An ebbing fear or a growing numbness to it.

“It says you’re human,” Father Rosario replied, “We are made in His image, but we are not divine. We see His image in us and we glimpse that divinity when we choose to do good. It is the choosing that matters, and choosing can be hard, even painful.”

“See I did that. I chose to do a good thing. I chose to save someone’s life, but I...” Emil paused, rushing in his explanation but hesitating in his confession, the scalpel feeling so much deadlier when it was in his own hand, “But I had to do horrible things to do it. I had to lie, I had to steal, I had to break laws.” It was another laundry list of sins, worse this time, crimes that felt foolish to disclose yet still didn’t feel like enough, so he cut deeper. “I hurt people,” he admitted after another moment, swallowing hard and pushing deeper, “A lot of people...mostly good ones. Mostly friends.” Messages he thought he’d see again every time he opened his phone, Isa’s number long since blocked when he only remembered a string of pleas. I miss you. Can we Facetime? Can you call? I just want to hear your voice. When are you coming back?

Emil stopped twirling the ring between his fingers, staring at it frozen for a long moment. “I think I hurt the person I was trying to save the most.” It was a cut deep enough that he could feel it, a truth both obvious and overwhelming, and whatever came next in his list was gone. Not sure if it was an argument or an apology that he’d lost track, but he did his best to reclaim the train of thought. “I chose the right thing — the good thing — that’s what matters. So when does it feel like it? When do I see that glimpse of divinity?”

He had looked for it. Some sign that blood could be repaid in gold. In honey-hued drinks and sun-painted skin. He looked for it beside him every morning and every evening, proof in his presence, in the warmth that wrapped around him. But there wasn’t enough comfort in the soft breath on the back of his neck, and he couldn’t find credit in a heartbeat that said Montgomery was alive. Too much blame stitched between still fading scars he was realizing might never go away.

“God never asks us to turn to evil for the sake of good,” Father Rosario said after a moment of careful thought, “He will sometimes ask us to make great sacrifices, ones we may not think that we can survive, but we will.”

“But isn’t that what this is?” Emil interrupted, remembering he preferred an argument to an apology, “I gave up everything. I sacrificed my job, my relationships, my safety…” God he was going to die. He remembered it the way he always did, with a sudden terrifying intensity that he had to ignore before it paralyzed him. “I made the choice to do something good, the choice that screwed me over and ruined all of it. And I don’t get to complain. I don’t get pity or comfort or forgiveness because I gave that up too.” And you know why. He knew why he couldn’t be trusted, why he couldn’t be angry, why he’d lost every argument before it ever started, and why the only person he could talk to was sitting behind a partition. No sympathetic ear he could convince to see his pain as anything but self-induced, no friend who would pity him more than they hated him, and at least it hurt less to hear his justifications picked apart by a man who barely knew him.

“I gave up the chance to be the hero because being a hero wouldn’t have saved him. I made all the hard calls, I made all the sacrifices, and what do I get?” Emil tried to hold onto some shred of self-righteousness, but he felt it breaking apart as quickly as he built it up. Disgust replacing indignation as his anger turned back inward. A poison he couldn’t stop from spreading, and every time he tried it just got worse. I just want you to be okay too.

Father Rosario waited this time, letting the brief spark of resentment burn itself out before offering guidance both harsh and kind. “God does not pity sinners, and he does not comfort them,” he stated clearly, “But God does forgive them, and in that forgiveness you may find comfort.”

“How?” The blunt question was met by a pregnant pause, the priest cautiously picking through its ambiguity but as soon as he started to articulate an answer, Emil cut him off. “How is God’s forgiveness going to make this feel better? How is anything going to make this feel better?” His voice wavered, not from anger, but a desperate despair that was left in its wake, ring clenched in a fist that slowly tightened around it, searching for an anchor. “When I think about it for too long I can’t breathe. It is this...overwhelming weight and it is all-encompassing and suffocating and so I have to put it away. I have to ignore it or I can’t function. And sometimes it’s hours and sometimes it’s days but then I feel it again and it’s worse, it’s always worse. Because I put it away and I shouldn’t get to do that right?” The question broke on a single, sharp laugh, more hysterical than humorous. “I should have to feel it, I should have to feel this terrible, sickening guilt all the time, but I can’t. I can’t. So I put it away, and every time it comes back, it’s worse and worse and--” it feels like it’s going to kill me.

Emil stopped short, words caught in his throat when it didn’t feel fair to say them out loud. Irrational, selfish fears that he pushed back down with everything else that came boiling over. Nails digging into his palm and holding his breath until he could let it out more slowly, waiting for something better than his heartbeat to fill the dead air between them.

“Do you know why God forgives us?” Father Rosario asked eventually, shifting on the other side of the screen to face him more directly, as if he might better impart his guidance if he could catch his gaze through cross-hatched holes, “God does not forgive us because he believes what we did is not wrong or that we have served our penance with a couple of prayers and a priest’s blessing. He forgives us because he believes we can do better. He knows we can. His forgiveness does not right our wrongs, and sometimes we can’t either. But his forgiveness gives us the grace to move forward without judgement. To do better.”

“What if I don’t want God’s forgiveness,” Emil replied, words heavy and numb when he felt too spent to offer anything but cynicism. A humanist boyfriend who might be proud of his skepticism if it wasn’t so self destructive.

“Then why have you come here today?” Father Rosario waited a long time for an answer, a practice of patience and of faith, but eventually even he was forced to offer a different kind of patience when Emil remained motionless and silent on the other side of the screen. “He offers forgiveness to all those who seek it. When you are ready, He will be, too.”

Emil cracked a crooked smile, not sure if he found the promise funny or just tragically ironic, but he could recognize a polite farewell when he heard one. Slipping the ring back on his finger, and standing up to leave, he was stopped by Father Rosario. One last question he asked as his professional persona dropped for something more personal. “Emiliano, why don’t you want God’s forgiveness? Is it because you’re not ready to ask for it, or because you’re not ready to receive it?”

Somewhere between a lament and a plea, Emil thought it was the kind of question that would impress him in a game. Brilliant but brutal and cutting close to something important. But he missed by an inch, and so his answer came easily. “It’s because nothing worth anything was ever free.”

Before Father Rosario could refute the claim, the door shut, and the confessional booth was empty once again.

#c: montgomery

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flutteringphalanges · 5 years ago

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Mirabile Visue

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Sister Agatha Van Helsing

Chapters: 1/7

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: So this is my first Dracula story and I hope I do the show some justice. It will be broken into three chapters just as the show, or first season, was broken into three episodes. Without further ado, let’s begin. (Oh, Mirabile Visu is Latin for “Wonderful to See”).

Transylvania, 1897

Count Dracula’s Castle

“You’re pregnant.”

Agatha could almost visualize the vampire’s wide grin as he spoke, her head turned towards the wooden bucket she’d taken to vomiting in. She hated him at that moment. More than usual. But she knew he was right. No matter how hard she didn’t want to believe it, she knew.

“I’m dying,” she inhaled, not moving to meet his gaze. “Just like all of your other victims. I thought you of all people would recognize the signs.”

“And I thought you of all people wouldn’t agree to sex after losing a game of chess, but I suppose we are all full of surprises.” Dracula watched with amusement as the nun turned to glower at him. He raised his hands in playful defense. “Now I am no man nor creature of God, but I must ask, exactly how many rules did we break with your sisterhood-”

“Shut up,” the woman groaned. “Just…how? I didn’t think this was even possible. In all of my research…stupid, stupid…”

She was mumbling to herself now, cursing her mind that had been so hellbent on knowing everything there was to know about Count Dracula that somewhere along the way she had been seduced by the beast himself. How could she have been so inattentive?

“While I am flattered you find me so seductive,” the Count’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “You are equally to blame Sister Agatha Van Helsing of St. Mary’s Convent, Budapest. Pointing fingers now is, well, how would one put it in Romanian? Frecție la picior de lemn? A rub on a wooden leg.” His smile was gentler now. “Useless, Agatha. Now, how’s about you get cleaned up and I’ll fix you something to settle your stomach? No blood, you have my word, and we can discuss things.”

The nun seemed hesitant as she watched the vampire from her spot in the room. She’d been at the castle for weeks now. First it had been against her will, seeing first hand what Jonathan Harker had. But it was this knowledge that had changed the castle from a prison into an exploration that she so desperately sought. Dracula and his companionship was a bonus in its own way. If he had yet to extinguish her life then, he most certainly wasn’t planning to now. Especially if she were carrying his child.

“Fine,” she agreed. “But if you think I’m going to incubate your spawn-”

“I was thinking peppermint tea,” Dracula interrupted. “But your sour attitude is saying…lemon?” When she didn’t respond, he nodded thoughtfully. “Lemon it is.” And with that he closed the door.

Agatha eyed the entrance way to the room for a few seconds before collapsing onto her bed. The bitterness from her stomach bile still lingered on her tongue as she looked over to a nearby night stand where a dress sat neatly folded. Whose it once was, she wasn’t sure, nor cared to dwell upon, but it appeared clean and warm. Her own religious habit had become dirty overtime, particularly because she chose to wear it in Dracula’s presence to spite him. But now graced with the sensitive nose of an expecting mother, she could hardly stand the smell. Body odor, mildew, and earth. Not that it mattered now having broken her vows with the Church. She was as good as excommunicated.

I’ll add it onto my ever growing list of confessions. The woman thought to herself as she began to change into the fresh clothes. I do hope God accepts memoirs.

Her fingers brushed carefully across the stone walls as Agatha made her way down the staircase and into the dining room. Halting in the archway, she found herself slightly taken aback by the display before her. Fat logs of oak lay aflame in the fireplace, the heat beckoning her closer from where she stood. The table was set for one, an ornate glass filled with some sort of fruit juice and a plate thickly sliced toast with scrambled eggs.

“See? No blood, as promised.” The unexpected voice caused her to jump slightly as Agatha turned to see Dracula watching her intently. “At least for now. We don’t know what they crave. You see, Agatha, in all my four hundred years of life, this has never happened to me.” He gave a small smirk that made the former nun’s skin crawl. “If I believed in God the way you mortals do, I’d say this is why fate brought us together. A blessing in disguise.”

“A curse,” she retorted. “A lapse in judgement. And now I am to pay for my sins apparently.”

“Again, it takes more than one to make the beast with two backs,” he smiled. “William Shakespeare’s Othello, have you read it?” Dracula waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind that or the arguing, sit and eat. Your food is getting cold.”

Though she wanted to fight it, Agatha couldn’t help but feel tempted by the meal before her. One moment she was nauseated like a sailor sick at sea and the next, the feeling was almost ravenous. With great reluctance, she walked over to the table and sat down. The woman tried her best to ignore the Count’s eyes as he watched her begin to consume her meal. Even more so when it tasted so delicious she could feel the corners of her mouth attempting to twitch into a smile.

“Good?” He inquired curiously, moving to sit across from her.

“Edible,” she replied, placing down the nearly empty cup. “So, Count Dracula has achieved something that no information speaks of. Reproduction of the sexual nature. You must be very proud of yourself.”

“Can’t I be for the both of us?” He shrugged, straightening up in his chair. “I mean, I’m not alone in this. You are its mother. Whether you like it or not, Agatha Van Helsing, my offspring is yours. And before you go threatening to throw yourself out a window or do something silly and stab impale yourself with a stake, we both know you wouldn’t do that.”

“End my own life?” Agatha snorted, eyeing him with slight amusement. “Why would I have any qualms about my own demise?”

“Because you aren’t just dealing with your own existence,” the vampire answered. “You have a weakness, Agatha, and it’s both charming and utterly annoying depending on the circumstance. You are a protector. A guardian. Someone who is willing to throw away themselves for the benefit of the rest. And that is why you won’t harm the baby.”

The baby. The baby. Her intestines seemed to writhe and knot at the very thought of it. She was pregnant, carrying the child of the one person on Earth she despised the most. A disgust that took her on a journey after him in the hopes of learning all of his secrets. Secrets they ended up sharing. Whispers and fingers intertwined, bare skin against fabric sheet, the copper taste lingering on his tongue. A Vampire’s Kiss without the bite. The forbidden act between Beast and Daughter of God. And now, growing in her very womb a product of that.

Agatha stood up so suddenly it caught Dracula by surprise. Mouth pressed into a firm line, she tossed her napkin onto the table and turned away. She was out of the room and halfway up the steps by the time the man had reached the bottom.

“Agatha,” he called after her, his voice mildly concerned. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Getting some peace and quiet,” she called back, swallowing thickly. He wasn’t to see her cry. No weakness. “I suggest you leave me be and go…go slaughter an old maid. I don’t care!”

Dracula was still attempting to hold some form of conversation when Agatha slammed the bedroom door in his face. For a brief moment, she half expected him to come barging in, proclaiming something that would surely upset her more. She listened carefully as if the vampire would even bother to make himself known if he was spying. Finally, confident that she was alone, the former nun retreated to her bedside and sat down. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair.

“I don’t understand why this is happening to me, nor am I sure if there even is an answer.” Her eyes fell down to her stomach as she spoke. “But for some reason you decided to come to life-if you are alive.” Tentatively, Agatha moved her hand so it rested just under her belly button. “I don’t know what you are, or who you are, but you made a mistake. You chose the wrong people to be your mother and father.” She paused before inhaling sharply. “Especially your mother. I left my family, you know. I left to be a nun. Gave up marriage and motherhood.”

Her eyes flickered down to the corner of her bed. Tucked just slightly from view, Agatha’s eyes set upon her old crucifix. She reached down and grasped it, studying the metal. Hungary. Mother Superior and her Sisters. So many people she cared about, loved, all dead. At least, she hoped they weren’t anything more than that. In that moment, Agatha Van Helsing, former Sister of St. Mary’s Convent, Budapest, made her decision. Setting the necklace down, she returned her hand to her stomach.

“Alright,” she exclaimed. “I suppose we can explore things. But if you are under the impression that I will kill and feed on human blood for you, you are highly mistaken.” The corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile. “I am a fan of meat though if that’s any consolation.”

Agatha stared peacefully down at her stomach, feeling a new sense of purpose she had yet to truly understand.

XXX

Two evenings had passed before Agatha finally chose to face the Count again. One would’ve suspected avoiding another in such an enormous palace would’ve been an easy feat. But no matter where she turned, the former nun could feel the eyes of the vampire following her. Silent, but ever present. A shadow of sorts. But unlike hers, it required no light.

She ignored Dracula’s inquisitive expression as she walked over to the embellished table he occupied. Steam seeped from a porcelain bowl filled with a soup that caused her stomach to rumble lowly. For someone who only consumed blood, the vampire was well versed in cooking. But having a meal was not the top priority matter on the woman’s mind, no matter how lovely its fragrance was. Instead she remained standing, now mere feet from him.

“There will be rules,” Agatha stated emphatically. “Many if this is to occur.”

“Rules? Like a contract?” Dracula met the woman’s gaze with a mixed expression of amusement and slight shock. “You want to settle upon a guideline…over a baby?” When she remained unmoved, the vampire merely shrugged. “Alright,” he breathed, settling back in his chair. “Enlighten me.”

“No one dies for the baby. Or for me, if you’d even consider that. You survive as you normally would, feed as repulsively as you like, but no doctor is to be touched with the intent on gathering information on the child.” She inhaled, folding her arms over her chest. “Which means no outside medical help. We can learn from what is in books. No one else is to be involved.”

“I’m a count and a vampire, Agatha, not a doctor.” Dracula replied, the grin fading from his face. “Just because I love science doesn’t mean I am well versed in it enough to deliver a baby.”

“Then it’s quite a fortunate thing we have, at least I hope, months to educate ourselves before then.” Her lips parted into a sardonic grin, Agatha enjoying the man’s realization of the leverage she currently held over him. “Are we in agreement then?”

For a long moment, the vampire said nothing. It was only when Agatha opened her mouth once more, about to voice her conditions, that Dracula shook his head and clicked his tongue quietly.

“Even when I thought it no longer possible, you never cease to amaze me, Agatha Van Helsing.” He quietly snorted and met her stare. “You have my word. My, how intrigued I am to see how the roots of motherhood will snare you.”

“If you are even capable of feeling the emotions of a parent yourself,” countered the former nun. “I suppose we will see how our true faults form together.” She turned on her heels and began to walk away.

“Yes,” the vampire agreed, smiling once more as he looked on. “I suppose we shall.”

XXX

“You’re reading that book again?”

Dracula peered up from his copy of, Tokology: A Book For Every Woman, looking almost slightly insulted as Agatha watched him from where she stood in the doorway. Her stomach had started to swell, and from both their rough calculations, she was three months, give or take a week.

“Well, you aren’t exactly allowing me to consume the blood of any physicians, so my grasp of understanding pregnancy is limited.” He waved the book in her general direction. “Just one man, that’s all I need and then I wouldn’t have to read about any of this. Or,” he lifted a finger in suggestion. “A woman? A midwife perhaps?”

“No,” Agatha said firmly. “I know I cannot stop you feeding, but we did agree that no one would die because of this pregnancy. No draining doctors, just books.”

“But what if something were to happen to you,” the vampire ventured, eyes following the woman as she moved to a seat nearest to him. “Do you really want to risk your life, Agatha?”

“Then forget about me and save the baby,” the former nun snorted, shaking her head. “Honestly, Dracula, when did book knowledge become less of a value to you?”

“You do realize you’re pregnant with a child who is half vampire, yes?” The man countered. “And yet, despite knowing everything I’m capable of, you show no sign of fear about what it could do?”

“Like violently tearing my vagina?” She grinned when she noticed the surprise on his face. “You’re not the only one who’s read that book.” Sighing, Agatha rested her hands on her stomach. “Women give birth every day and I will be joining their ranks soon enough.”

“I won’t let it hurt you.”

The words were so quiet that Agatha almost missed them. The former nun’s eyes flickered to meet the dark irises of the Count. For the first time since she entered the room did she pick up the severity of his mood. He seemed off, not that he wasn’t always pouring over medical texts and journals now. He, like she had, had taken to this idea of a child from such a scientific approach. Continuous research, needing to know more. And it was that that had been bringing them together. But now he seemed concerned, genuinely so, for her safety.

“You’re reading too much,” she finally responded, breaking the silence. Rising to her feet, Agatha walked over and gingerly took the book away from Dracula. “I’m a lot stronger than you think. I’ve survived you, yes?”

The two exchanged small smiles, a rarity that was growing more shared as time went on. Agatha glanced towards the stairs, arms folded over her chest. It was getting late and she was getting tired.

“I’m going to go turn in now,” she sighed, turning to Dracula. “If you must go out and-”

“No doctors, you have my word.”

“Then I’ll see you in a few hours?” Agatha inquired. “Unless you meet the sun or end up staked?”

“It’s a Tuesday,” he replied smirking. “It’s unpredictable.”

Without much thought, he reached forward and placed a hand on Agatha’s shoulder. Much to his surprise, instead of pulling away, the former nun let her fingers brush against his. They stood there for a moment, both equally silent. Agatha smiled softly and turned away.

“Good night, Count Dracula.”

The vampire watched as the woman went up the staircase and disappeared. The ancient vampire sighed before moving to smother the fire in the fireplace.

“Sleep well, Agatha.”

XXX

Agatha watched Dracula expectantly as the vampire moved around her. While she was curious about what the man was doing, her true wonder fell on the brown object in his hands. It was oddly shaped, sort of like an instrument. A horn. He hadn’t said much when he called her into the parlor, just to recline as best and as comfortably as she could in one of the seats.

“It’s called a Pinard horn,” the vampire answered before Agatha could ask. “It’s for listening to the fetus’s heartbeat and no,” he held his hand up in defense when he saw her express. “I didn’t kill or steal for it, you’re welcome. I bought it because I wanted to confirm that the thing I’ve been hearing is the baby’s heart.”

“You’ve been hearing its heart?!” Agatha’s tone was mixed with shock and aggravation. “I’ve been pregnant for six months and you are just now telling me that the baby has a beating heart! That it’s living, living?!”

“To be fair, you didn’t tell me immediately when you felt it kick for the first time.”

“Because it was the middle of the day and you were sleeping!” She exasperated, propping herself up on her elbows. “Do you realize how often I’ve sat on this exact spot and worried about if I was giving birth to an undead baby?”

“My apologies,” the vampire expressed, tone lacking actual sympathy. “But what’s done is done and now we can both be assured that the baby does have a beating heart.”

He reached to lift up her dress, but was immediately stopped when Agatha grasped his hand. Their eyes met and Dracula let out a long, irritable sigh. Releasing his hold on the fabric, he motioned to the horn with his free hand.

“It works best on bare skin,” he exclaimed.

“Perhaps you should put down the medicine books and pick up one on manners, Count Dracula,” Agatha expressed. “It isn’t very polite to lift a lady’s dress without her consent.”

“I’m perfectly fine not confirming my heart beat theory…”

“Just let me help,” Agatha grumbled, rolling her eyes as she hiked up her gown. “There, now do what you must.”

Choosing not to bicker further, the vampire eyed the woman’s distended stomach carefully. Her pale skin stretched to reveal roads of thin blue veins that had previously been hidden. Though he knew what flowed through them, he was surprisingly not tempted. Tenderly, he brought his fingers down to rest upon her flesh pausing only when he felt her shiver.

“Sorry,” he gave a half smile. “I suppose you could say I have low circulation in my hands.”

“Your humor died a long time ago,” Agatha smirked.

“And yet you still laugh,” Dracula replied, resting the horn right under her belly button. “Now give me a moment.”

The vampire carefully leaned an ear to the opening of the device. He didn’t need to look up to know that Agatha was holding her breath. Of course, that was unnecessary as the thrumming resounded almost instantly from within. There was no denying it. A heartbeat. A living, beating heart that had no reserves for making itself well known.

“You’re smiling,” Agatha’s voice pulling him from his concentration. “Is that a good or a bad thing? I can’t ever tell with you, especially if you’re being quiet.”

“I believe it is safe to say it physically inherited its mother’s heart.” When the former nun didn’t seem to put two and two together, he added, “…it has a beating heart.”

“There is a God,” she breathed in relief.

“Let’s keep religion out of this,” Dracula replied. “We can deal with opposing views when it’s actually born.”

Agatha’s arms unceremoniously wrapped around Dracula, the horn falling from her stomach and to the floor. Bewildered at first, he remained motionless. The woman wasn’t exactly one to show affection. Especially when it came to him, despite them learning to coexist with each other. But he too allowed his guard to slide and embraced her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Well it’s no gem encrusted necklace, but it proved its worth,” Dracula chuckled, looking down at the horn. “You’re welcome.”

They remained in each others’ arms for a few long moments before Agatha broke away. She was smiling, a genuine grin that held no form of hostility. But when she opened her mouth to say something to Dracula, she decided against it, leaving the vampire to wonder what else she had to offer.

“Agatha,” he ventured. “I was planning on taking a stroll through the castle. If you aren’t too busy being bothered by mortal things, I would like to offer you the invitation to join me.” He gave her a grin. “You can bombard me with all of your usual vampire inquiries.”

“I’d like that,” the former nun smiled.

“Then it’s settled,” the vampire said. “A walk around the inside grounds.”

Where there once would have been refusal, when Dracula offered Agatha his hand, she took it. Without a second thought, the pair began to walk down the stone hallway. For now, they would just enjoy each other’s company.

XXX

It was late into the night and she was already well into her seventh month of pregnancy when the craving first hit. Well, the craving had long been building up, she’d just had been ignoring it. It was midnight when Agatha was hit with an episode of sorts brought on by fighting the urge to consume blood.

Dracula had found her thrashing in her bed sheets, fingers digging into the mattress as she pressed her face into the pillow and howled. The thirst burned in her throat and twisted in her stomach. She was frustrated, miserable, and the idea of death seemed more and more welcoming.

“Please,” she whimpered, a hand falling to grip her stomach. “Stop, stop, stop!”

She could feel the baby more than ever as if it too was suffering from her infliction. That her ignoring her craving for blood was upsetting it. It jabbed, poked, and prodded. At this point, blood wasn’t needed for survival-if they had made it seven months in without it and were still present, then it wasn’t a necessity. Nevertheless, that didn’t make how it felt any better. Like detoxing from a severe addiction.

“Agatha?” Dracula asked worriedly, moving to her bed. “What-”

“Get out!” She screamed, biting down hard on her lip. The copper last of blood melted on her tongue, but hers wasn’t what her body wanted. “Get out! I can smell it on you! Get out!”

Of all the nights for him to have fed. He silently cursed himself as he moved towards Agatha. It frightened him really, seeing her like this. He knew something was off by the way she had been acting lately. Now he realized why.

“Agatha,” he said gently. “You need to drink.”

“No!” She spat back almost immediately. “No blood! We…we had a rule…no one dies…” Their eyes met and Dracula saw how red they were from tears. “I can fight this,” she whispered. “I can fight this…I can fight this…”

“You don’t have to,” Dracula insisted. “Agatha, one doesn’t even need to be killed for blood, there are-”

“I will not have my baby become a monster!”

The anger and fear that laced her words struck out at the vampire like whip’s rope soaked in venom. They hurt. It was such an odd sensation that he found himself staring absently at the former nun. Agatha had said things, proclaimed that he was the reincarnation of the Devil himself, and yet it was a single outburst about a baby no less that tightened the long dead muscle in his chest.

“So what if it is?” He asked coolly. “What if the baby is a monster? A full fledged vampire? Then what? You wish to kill it?”

“No,” Agatha swallowed thickly, still visibly trembling. “You don’t understand…”

“I don’t?” Dracula nearly hissed. “Because from where I stand, Agatha, your hatred for vampires has manifested even more so since we first became acquainted in Hungary! So due forgive me for becoming offended that your motherly concern is that our child will-”

“I just want to protect it!” The former nun screamed.

“From what?!” Dracula snapped. “Me?!”

“EVERYTHING!”

Once more the vampire found himself at a momentary loss for words. Agatha had now shifted into an upright position, her expression one of false stoicism. The way her arms wound around her middle, Dracula no longer saw a nun seeking to slay that of which was unholy, but a mother desiring nothing more than to protect her child.

“Crosses. Holy water. The sun…” She shook her head, a sorrowful smile crossing her features. “What is said to hurt you, to kill you, has it not occurred to you that this baby could be equally if not more vulnerable?” Agatha sighed and peered down at her swollen stomach. “I got so far, I hadn’t craved blood up until this point and now…” Her eyes flickered to meet his gaze. “If I’ve experienced one vampire characteristic, who knows…”

“Then we experiment with me,” Dracula said. “Tomorrow we’ll open the curtains-”

“No!” Agatha said sharply. “I don’t want…” The former nun seemed to struggle with the next words that left her lips. “I can’t lose you either.” Her eyes narrowed at Dracula’s silence. “Well, go on then. Make a mockery of me. Agatha Van Helsing who has spent most of her life trying to stop Count Dracula actually cares for him. The irony.”

Dracula was quiet for a moment. “Well, I suppose it’s true what they say. Lubirea trece prin apa, nu-i e frica ca se-neaca.” He smiled softly. “Love will go through stone walls.”

“What does that-”

Her words were captured by a kiss as the Count joined Agatha at her bedside. She didn’t fight back, nor attempt to protest in the slightest. Instead, she let his cool hands rest on either side of her face. Her mouth moved hungrily against his, the scent of blood still lingering off him. The last time either had shown this level of romance was the night their child had been conceived. Just as the nun let her hand trail down the vampire’s chest, he stopped.

“There is something we can try.” Dracula said suddenly, pulling away. “But you aren’t going to like it.”

“Then why even suggest it?” Agatha inquired irritably, secretly annoyed that the affection ended so quickly. “I told you, no humans.”

“It’s a good thing pigs are beast then.” He stated quite proudly. “Their blood is closest to humans-not that I can drink it. But perhaps the baby won’t require human blood. Maybe animals will suffice.”

“You want me to drink a glass of pig’s blood?” She asked skeptically.

“You’ve made it clear the alternative is a no,” he shrugged. “There’s a farm not too far out that breeds the loveliest hogs.” At Agatha’s frown, he merely smiled and gently touched the side of her face. “I’ll make sure to use a cup that isn’t transparent. Now try to get some rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

Dracula kissed her forehead and lovingly patted her stomach. Even after he vanished from the room, Agatha found herself wide awake with her thoughts. Nun vampire hunter to vampire, dare she venture, lover, who also was pregnant with his child. Just in a seven month span. If there was a God who accepted her for, well, her, she hoped he’d have a large allotted time slot set out for her to explain everything when she died.

XXX

“I think my water just broke.”

At first, Dracula wondered if he heard the woman right. They had been sitting by the fireplace together, Agatha on her second glass of hog’s blood, when the declaration was made so calmly. She was heavily nine months pregnant so it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it took the former nun nearly doubling over in pain from a contraction to snap the vampire from his trance.

“You’re water broke?!” He asked, sounding unnervingly panicked.

“Smell the amniotic fluid for blood and tell me,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now help me get to the bedroom. You’re going to need to get…” Agatha inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. “…You’ll need to get the supplies, I’m afraid I won’t be much use going up and down the stairs.”

Dracula had felt many things in his centuries of existence, but never had he felt such overwhelming worry and raw excitement. Diligently, he moved to sweep Agatha up-who protested that she could still walk-and brought her up the steps. She winced as he set her down, but the initial contraction seemed to have run its course.

“You should’ve let me drink a physician,” the vampire said, unable to pull his gaze away from the laboring woman. “Or even bring one here!”

“No,” sighed Agatha. “No, we’re fine. We’ve prepared. Stop being so nervous, you’re making me nervous and I’m the one who’s going to be pushing it out.” She sucked in a breath, trying to remain collected. “Go find some towels and fill a pot with water. It’ll need to be boiled, so maybe start with that. And a watch to time the contractions.”

“Perhaps you chose the wrong profession,” the Count responded. “Maybe the role of a midwife would’ve been better suited.”

“And you a librarian,” Agatha retorted. “You could replace the stones in your castle’s walls with books from how you collect them.” Her lips twitched briefly into a teasing smile before another grunt of pain abruptly severed the mood. “If you would be so kind and hurry back, I would…highly appreciate it.”

The more time he spent with her, the more Dracula found himself learning about humans. Especially when it came to women and their reproductive cycles. After getting everything Agatha had requested, he returned to find the former nun pacing around the room. Every so often, she’d stop and lean against a wall, her breathing heavy as she anchored herself in place riding out each contraction that hit.

“No,” she hissed, eyes squeezed shut as she waved him away. “Don’t touch me! Let it pass!”

As the hours wore on, it became clear that her contractions were not only getting worse, but growing closer together. And while Dracula did love the smell of fear, he was far from enjoying Agatha’s. No longer did she object to his closeness as he moved to where she knelt on the ground by the bed. She could feel the pressure from within her, the weight of it telling her body that it was time. And yet, Agatha felt very unready. She was scared. Terrified. Powerless.

“Breathe,” the vampire instructed softly. “I’m going to move you to the bed.”

“I’m perfectly fine right here,” but the weakness in her voice betrayed her. “I don’t think moving is such a good idea right now.”

“You and I both know that you don’t want to deliver this child on the floor.” Dracula tilted Agatha’s chin so that her wide, fearful eyes met his reassured stare. “So let’s get you comfortable.”

A pang of guilt hit the vampire as the woman let out a moan when he lifted her from the floor. Already strands of her hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, exhaust looming over like a storm. With his aid, Agatha sat propped up against the headboard, a pillow cushioning her back. Towels were laid at the end of the bed towards her feet, her gown pulled up to her hips. She already knew before Dracula checked her what was happening. The pressure. The urge.

“The head,” he sounded so mystified. “You’re beginning to crown!”

Agatha was too exhausted to think of a snide remark in response. Instead, she tensed as another contraction hit, crying out as it reverberated throughout her abdominal region. Nine months she had planned, prepared for this, and now in the midst of bringing life into the world, confidence turned into dust.

“I can’t do this,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “This was a mistake!”

“You need to push,” Dracula instructed gently. “You can do this, Agatha. Let go, I’m right here.”

She didn’t want to. But the civil war she fought with her body to ignore the urge, the more intense they came. The baby was coming and there was nothing she could do about it. When the next contraction hit, she sucked in a sharp breath and bore down as hard as she could. No longer was there just pressure, there was burning. An extreme, inextinguishable fire. She screamed.

“Good girl,” the vampire coached. “Keep going, Agatha, you’re doing marvelously. Focus your energy, that’s it.”

Nothing sounded better than a stake through the vampire’s chest each time pushed. The agony. The burning. She felt the tearing. This had all been his doing. So she focused her energy on anger. An emotion that was suddenly forgotten the moment she felt something small slip out from her body. In seconds, an infant’s wail sounded in the room. It was the most beautiful sound Agatha had ever heard.

“A girl,” Dracula beamed, holding the squirming baby gingerly for her mother to see. “A perfect daughter.”

“Let me see her,” Agatha whispered, holding out her arms as he placed their baby into them. “Is she healthy?”

The two marveled at the tiny being before them. She looked exactly as any normal human newborn would look. Ten fingers and ten toes. A small crop of dark hair. Agatha gingerly opened the baby’s mouth with her finger to reveal two sets of toothless gums. Suddenly, every single thing that had ever gone wrong in her life was meaningless. Nothing mattered except the good that had led up to that moment.

“You were incredible.” Dracula grinned.

“I suppose you could say that I had some help,” she smiled, leaning into him when he sat on the edge of the bed. “She needs a name.”

The vampire seemed to ponder for a moment. “Someone so beautiful deserves a name that is just as equal. In my four hundred years of life, up until this point, the most beautiful thing I know of is something I cannot see.” He looked down and tenderly touched the baby’s face. “Sorina. In Romanian, it means Sun.”

“You want to name our daughter after something that could kill you?” Agatha asked, sounding slightly amused. “You don’t find that a little silly?”

“Or fitting,” the vampire mused. “Unless you have another idea?”

“Hm,” Agatha hummed, nodding her head thoughtfully. “Sorina…” With a smile, she gazed lovingly down at her new daughter. “Welcome to the world, little one. There is oh so much to tell you…”

A/N: So as I was writing this, I kind of realized that in this first part, if I ever wanted to make separate one shots based on events throughout Agatha’s pregnancy, I could. That’s why there were “snap shots” rather than make the whole story about her being pregnant. Not sure if anyone would be interested in that. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Part two shall have more romance. Reviews are greatly loved and appreciated! Until next time! -Jen

#Dracula #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula Netflix #Dracula x Agatha #Count Dracula

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helly-watermelonsmellinfellon · 5 years ago

Note

I notice you post quite a bit about your family being extremely poor but also are an adult and seem to write a lot. Do you work to help out your family, or are you unable to? There are jobs out there that involve writing if that’s the extent you're capable of, like if disabilities get in the way of normal jobs. The level of poverty you describe your family dealing with is really depressing.

So...

I spent 11/14 years in one Christian School. There was a hiatus of 3 years of me trying out public school but I got shoved back into RBCS in 8th grade and stayed. I did not not want to go but Sperm Donor said it was a punishment for my behavior, so I’d be forced to be around Bible Thumpers every damn day.

Private Schools in America cost money. Tuition for this place was $1500 a year for kids over 10. I found out my mom’s brother John paid all my former years of education there to try and keep me close to the family(since my Nana was my school teacher) and make sure my mom didn’t go full broke.

Sperm Donor was in a pickle himself at the time. He was in the processes of being arrested for stealing nearly a million dollars from his clients(he was a financial adviser). He only took from the very desperate, disabled clients too. One died because her parents couldn’t afford her medication, because he was stealing their money. We were in a tight spot as a result, though I didn’t know enough until later. He didn’t pay my tuition or book fees($100+).

So he’s carted off to prison a month before 8th grade ends and I’m sent back to my mom’s custody. And my principal(also pastor) calls my mom to inform her that she has a $1600+ bill to pay for my schooling. She definitely does not have that and I certainly don’t either.

Next day at school I get cornered about how stealing is a sin and dishonesty is a sin(instead of blaming Sperm Donor because God forbid the man in prison for STEALING be in the wrong here). I’m offered a chance to lower the bill if I go candy-selling with the rest of the students every Friday. I will get half the profits made and it’ll be taken off my debt. So I told my mom I’d help her out and I went and did it. I ended up having to stay in the school another year where the money added on and I went candy-selling on Tuesdays too to try and make up for it. I’d earn about $50 each time so $100 a week was put toward the debt, meaning $400 a month.

The chick who was the school/church secretary however, was a bitch who had it out for us. Monthly we’d get notices about how much debt we were in with the school, and one month a student would have $457 and the next month on the first day they apparently had $890. If tuition monthly is about $150 for teen, how did the number shoot up so much? Mine kept getting abnormally higher and reaching into the $3,000s. And I told my mom who then bitched at the school.

The secretary barely finished high school and the only reason she was in that position that she was not capable of handling alone or at all, was because she was kissing the church’s ass. She had sex outside of marriage on school property and got pregnant and was forced to marry him to save her dignity the moment she turned 18. They kept her very close with guilt ever since. Instead of just leaving, she chose to stay and be a bitch to everyone.

My tuition issue plagued me the entire time no matter how much I did. I was so stressed constantly and letters from Sperm Donor who got to write to me in prison, said the school wouldn’t accept his tuition payments when he re-enrolled me. He said he even got his new fiance to monitor a fund he set up before leaving, and sent the money in monthly for the year he signed on. IDK who to believe because he’s a pathological liar, but the church has also been trying for 4 years to get me back into their fold, popping up at my mom’s house uninvited, trying to guilt trip me with Godly reasons, accusing me of being a ‘whore’ who needs to get right with God all because I wore pants, and using my terminally ill Nana as an excuse. They very much would and have actually taken payments without recording them in the logbooks.

I spent my HS years in debt, working hard to get out of it. My HS teacher actually helped me by letting me clean her house once a month and I’d earn $150 in two days because the house was pretty big. I ended up candy-selling more and more days a week and bringing candy boxes home to sell in the neighborhood.

And it seemed to never let up. The numbers did not match. Somehow my debt was always in the $2000s+ but I was making at least $300 a month? My mom finally snapped and said she’d call the cops on the school if something didn’t change. A month later we get the updates to our accounts and the numbers dropped drastically. My Senior Year and I only had a couple hundred dollars left. And the Secretary was suspiciously quiet from then on and kept to herself and left us alone.

Still, I spent the whole time doing candy-selling for them so much, and having to attend church activities for them, that I never got a job. Candy-selling actually brought in more money than what a teen would be allowed to earn anyway. At the time I was so up the church’s ass and scared to make my own decisions that they said I wasn’t capable of making because I was so young, I had already agreed to continue being the church pianist past graduation and they’d agreed to help me fund college so long as I went to the one of their choice with my friends. They had set up my future vocation(teacher in the their school, pianist in their church) and my future husband(Sam most likely) and I wouldn’t have to do anything but follow rules. And as I was scared, I planned to go along with it.

But then they fucked me over a week before Senior Year ended and when June 5th passed and I got my diploma, I peaced out. We changed our phone number, stopped coming to the door when they came by, and ignored their chances at re-connection. And it was months after I got fucked over when they found out they were the ones in the wrong and tried to half ass an apology to me. Didn’t work.

After graduating, my step-dad demanded I get a job finally. Mind you, his failure of a son dropped out of HS & moved to PA with us and proceeded to rely on daddy to do all his work for him. Daddy got him a job at Weis, he faked being sick so much he was fired. Daddy got him another job at Walmart, he took too many days off and he got fired. He moved out of our house and in with his new girlfriend(after milking 3 of their cash already). This one was a trust fund baby(Bree) who was adopted. Her parents paid for her apartment, her nursing education, and gave her a card with $1,000 on it a month for anything she needed. Step-bro moved in and they wasted that whole card name-brand candy in a week.

She started skipping classes to go out to eat with him. Her parents stopped by to see if she was doing well because the school became concerned over abnormal behavior. They wanted step-bro out of the apartment and the relationship to end because they said he was using her for her money(he was and admitted it to mine and my mom’s faces) and would get in the way of her goals in life. She refused. They said they’d take away her card if she didn’t. Well, they did. And another month went by with no changes and they withdrew the full payments for the schooling too. She dropped out. And finally the apartment a month after that.

So now she’s homeless and step-bro manages to swindle both of them back into our apartment. They have to sleep on the floor in the living room. Daddy got them both jobs at Amazon with him. The pay was pretty fucking good at the time. There was a year in between there where we had money and were contemplating getting our own house for the first time. Things were going well.

Step-dad didn’t try to help me get a job though. I asked for help because my search went nowhere. Those 3 got transportation every day and I was stuck with walking. We lived on a mountain and all businesses were at the bottom 2 miles away, so I applied to all available businesses within 2 miles, either in person or online. Never got any responses. As it was a bust, my mom just said, ‘help clean the house since they’re gone all day and help be my legs to watch your sister and I’ll consider that your rent’. So I did. Every day. And I hated it. And there are a lot of posts on here from then of me complaining about it.

So I asked him for help and he never did. But he would demand to know why I didn’t have a job yet or why the house wasn’t perfectly clean? And I’m like, “Dude, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere. You don’t take your dishes into the kitchen. I clean in the day, you get back in the evening and trash the place and by the morning when you’re gone, it’s all a mess. You only see mess because it’s all you 3 make all day with candy wrappers and soda cans!”

After year he had a seizure on the floor and had to be rushed to the hospital from Amazon. Epileptic issues meant no more work at Amazon because his job was operating heavy machinery and he kept having small seizures weeks later! Without him there every day to keep step-bro and gf on their toes, they started calling in sick together or skipping work with dumb reasons. They got fired soon after. The job hunt was a failure, but daddy was still getting jobs for all of them! Instead of over the table jobs, they now worked under the table, fixing up houses(sheetrock, spackle, insulation, etc...). Still didn’t try and help me get a job. I didn’t know how to do any of that, but gf didn’t either but they taught her how to do it.

Frankly, it got to a point of me being a live-in maid in exchange for me staying under their roof, while step-bro and gf made up excuses to not have to help step-dad. Sick, business, too tired, whatever they came up with. I remained home, handling my sister’s online education with my mom, cleaning the house, handling my sister’s bullies, handling our shitty inspector, and all that crap.

Step-dad takes in a friend of his who was evicted and homeless so he’s sleeping on our other couch at this time. Kind of easy to forget but we felt bad for his situation as it was his girlfriend who fucked him over.

And then step-dad and step-bro opened their mouths on something they should have avoided. In that place we kept to ourselves. There was shady shit going on. Murder, drug deals, drive-bys, etc. Mom and I left them all alone and turned the other way and they left us alone. 19 years in that place. If a cop came by asking questions of the only white person in the joint, she’d go, ‘we know nothing, we saw nothing, sorry’. But step-dad and Junior opened their mouths and one of the newer guys reported the son and gf because they weren’t on our lease. We got evicted after 19 years of good relations with management because someone inserted an opinion in something he should have stayed out of.

So 30 days to gtfo, no one in the house has a real job with consistent pay, we move in with my mom’s uncle for the time being. The house is huge with many bedrooms but to conserve space, I, mom, and my sister bunk in the same room. Mom and Bethy got the bed and I slept on the floor for 2 years. Step-dad don’t know what the eff he’s doing for months. We’re up in buttfuck Egypt. He and the Tweedle dimwits are still doing what they were doing before but now have to drive 3 hours to and 3 hours back just to make it. Mom is doing surveys online to make extra money. She’s trying to do her best while disabled. I’m helping clean the house as my form of payment. The car fails, money that was being saved up to move out, has to go to that. The next one fails too so that has to be handled and we’re in debt now! Christmases and Birthdays are nonexistent. Her Uncle’s new wife isn’t quite so open to us being there and complains a lot.

Step-dad manages to make a deal with a guy he’s working with. He fixes up a house the guy owns, and works for him on more houses after that, and he’ll get a considerably low payment for the rent monthly. He didn’t do much work and lied to mom about what was done and when all was said and done, we moved in and it was a wreck. Worse than it is now but it’s still pretty effin terrible. No kitchen, the bathroom is half-finished still, no insulation, power problems, you name it. It’s bad. But cheap because the lease shows we owe $20 a month instead of $200 because the guy forgot to add a zero when he was drawing up the contract.

Then step-bro and gf manage to convince step-bro’s grammy to move down to PA and rent a house for them to use. They still don’t have jobs, disabled grammy pays for everything. Step-dad’s couch-dwelling friend gets a new gf and moves in with her. Step-dad is driving 3 hours to work and by the time he gets back, he sleeps for 4 hours and then has to leave again. Finally he starts staying at his son’s place because it’s closer and less gas to spend, but that also means he’s taken the car. We’re stranded here with only a mini mart across the street as the only shop for miles! He makes excuses for why he can’t come up. Mom has so many health problems but hasn’t seen a doctor in 5 years because of this. I haven’t seen one in 6. My sister is the only one with regular appointments because they’re necessary for school. If anything, at least she remains unaffected by this crap.

I too have taken to doing surveys now. If I get 500 pts a day that’s a $5 gift card to target which delivers here. One of the few places that do.

I can’t even work at the mini mart because the man has 6 employees for each day of the day. 1 works with him each day but Monday where he works alone because there’s less rush on Mondays.

No matter how I complain it’s not like I can go anywhere. There’s still a roof over my head and I have access to the internet. Even if I’m cold every day, borderline ill, and miserable, it’s better than being on the streets.

Some poor people are very unlucky. We are those people. The ones where everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Step-dad’s been through 4 cars since coming here cuz they keep breaking down and needing to be fixed. My sister’s been sick every other month. Power goes out a lot.

I cope by whining online.

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cypher-of-the-night · 5 years ago

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How did the relationship between Yui and Yuuichi develop during the Dark Fate saga? Does Yuuichi know about the existence of the Founders? How did Yuuichi react when he first met Carla and Shin? I know he is an extremely powerful vampire hunter, but could he really kill two demons as powerful as Carla and Shin? And finally, how did Yuuichi react when he knew that the Founders' plan is to get Yui pregnant (and I suppose Naoki too) to save their race? By the way, I love your blog! ♡

Mun!Yuki: ALRIGHT! I WILL TRY AND ANSWER THIS AS BEST I CAN! I shall answer the development of Yui and Yuuichi’s relationship in the end, but thank you so much for asking these questions!!!

Does Yuuichi know about the existance of the Founders?

Of course he has heard of the existance of the Founders. For Vampire hunters, It's only common knowledge that they are up-to-date on information regarding vampires. That includes the knowledge that the First-Bloods were defeated by the alliance between Karlheinz and the Demon King, Burai; However, since it was so long ago, people have made rumors that they weren't just exiled from the underworld, but rather, they went extinct. By that logic, he technically did know that the Founders existed; However, it's been thousands of years since that tale was told, so even He would think that they would've gone extinct because nobody talks about them anymore since they were defeated by Karlheinz, the Vampire King himself.

How did Yuuichi react when he first met Carla and Shin?

Oh my god, I imagine it irritating. XD Actually, I became interested in the knowledge of Special classrooms that Carla and Shin go to. So when he is introduced to them by the principal to be their teacher and to help them get caught up to speed, Yuuichi is able to sense their aura being completely different from a vampire's, even a pureblood's; As the only teacher capable of making sure the vampires don't get too carried away in school, it's only natural that someone like Yuuichi becomes their teacher for the special classroom. He does get annoyed by the two of them, but even more so when they try getting involved with Yui, especially when the principal desperately asked her to be their 'caretaker'. But he was also heavily wary of them when they tried to target Naoki too; While at the time they both don't know the connection they have by blood, Naoki is still a human girl and a student that Yuuichi must look after too. Especially since she lives with the Sakamaki's and is together with Subaru.

Could he really kill two demons as powerful as Carla and Shin?

Let's see. For a normal vampire hunter, that would be near impossible. But as long as either of them is caught off-guard, then it's a possibility for two different reasons.

For Carla, he is sick with Endzeit. If he was caught off guard by coughing from overexerting himself, then that's when Yuuichi will strike him down.

For Shin, Yuuichi would need to catch him off-guard somehow. Perhaps pretend he is unconcious or dead make him lower his guard? Or maybe he and Yui fight him together, where Shin would seemingly have the upperhand against Yuuichi but gets killed by Yui who pretended to be useless from the training she recieved from Yuuichi. For someone as prideful as Shin who underestimates his opponents, it's easier to catch him off-guard compared to his brother.

It doesn't matter how powerful the first-bloods are in comparison; Strategy matters most of all in a battle to the death.

Ever since childhood, Yuuichi was raised as a vampire hunter and became an expert at his job. He has a high kill-count compared to the other hunters in the organziation. He may be a little hot-temper and a little impulsive, but Yuuichi is still a professional at what he does best, a hunter that is within the elite rank, and it is because of strategy that he's able to make it this far, alive.

Plus, Yuuichi is from the same clan as Naoki, therefore, a bit of Asher's blood run course in his veins too; Adding that, with his training and the strength he obtained as a vampire, I would believe he's very strong in strength; But regardless, that itself wouldn't be enought to kill the first-bloods unless he focuses on strategy.

How did Yuuichi react when he knew that the Founders' plan is to get Yui pregnant (and I suppose Naoki too) to save their race?

He'd be murderous.

Yui is the love of his life. He refuses to let anyone take her away from him, not even a first-blood. He doesn't care for what reason it's for. Yui saved him from a tragic fate and from himself. He'd rather let an entire race die out and go extinct than to give up the love of his life. :O

Oh, Naoki would definately be a target too. He would try and protect her too at first, due to being a poor human involved in the mess of vampires just like Yui; But once it turns out they're both related, Yuuichi will put his life on the line to protect Naoki from them. He has had so many of his family members taken away from him by vampires already, and he refuses to let Naoki be taken away too.

How did the relationship between Yui and Yuuichi develop during the Dark Fate saga?

During the Dark Fate saga, their relationship will develop upon how they will make it through their relationship. Yes, they have to keep it secret at school due to relationships between students and teachers are forbidden, but the bigger factor is when Yui is human and Yuuichi is a turned-vampire. If Yuuichi could, he would love to give up being a vampire (despite the fact he only chose to become one to keep himself from dying during a mission). This saga will open up the knowledge that, with Yui’s blood, Yuuichi can turn back into a human; However, things must be done first before that could happen, such as protecting her from the first-bloods, overthrowing and exposing Tsurara’s crimes, etc.Their relationship will also be challenged from when Seiji comes into the story, and you bet that Seiji’s not going to accept it with how it is right now.

Yuuichi still feels the need to protect Yui and to have her leave everything to him. In this Saga, Yuuichi will learn secrets from his family history and slowly open up to Yui regarding his thoughts and feelings, to allow himself to be openly vulnerable to her without breaking down in tears, especially when he is stressing over what to do after everything is dealt with. He is still burdened by the sins he committed from the awful truth behind what he’s really been doing, and coming to terms with it is difficult.

Yui will also try and learn to figure out how to overcome her hesitation to fight in order to protect herself while holding onto her beliefs, as well as figuring out what she wants to do and the choices she wants to make for herself now. Yuuichi has always given her a choice after they’ve gotten together, something she needs to get accustomed to again; She can’t exactly become a nun like she wanted to as a child. She also wishes to become a bride. But she also wants to help be there for Yuuichi, even if it meant bearing a sin.

Neither of them can live without each other. They need each other to keep going. But they need to hold a balance in order for it to work. Yuuichi has too much on his plate and is stressed out on what to do with the new information obtained from the MORE BLOOD Saga despite keeping a cool, collected face; Yui needs to learn how to equal to Yuuichi and be allowed to stay beside him instead of staying behind like she always has to by learning how to fight to prevent another incident like before from happening again to protect themselves.

Balance is key.

#yuuyui

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vvakarians · 6 years ago

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OTP in 5 songs

I saw @goblin-deity doing this and I figured I’d do it too LMAO. Songs are my life when I think about OTP’s. Because I’ve been talking about it with @trans-aloth , I figured I’d do it with Callie/Solas and Callie/Isi, just bc I love seeing their differences lmao.

Calliope/Solas

The Enemy || Andrew Belle

Out of the mire we were torn from, remember ||Out of the fire again, but I’m an ember || I hold a banner for you, but it’s upside down|| You got a question or two, but I’m tongue tied now

There’s an unwillingness in Solas to tell Calliope who he really is because it would muck up his plans for the future. He knows that Calliope would try to convince him to teach people rather than act out on his need to destroy everything to make it new. Not only that but he doesn’t want to reveal who Calliope is to them out of respect that “it’s not his secret to tell”, among the selfishness of keeping his own secret from them. Solas never liked the way the Dalish painted Falon’Din as a vain and petty god, in reality they were warm and caring. They had a love for those who had been wronged. Which is a double edged sword because he sees Calliope as misguided as Falon’Din was in the beginning of his revolution.

Wolves Without Teeth || Of Monsters And Men

I can see through you, we are the same|| It's perfectly strange|| You run in my veins|| How can I keep you inside my lungs? | I breathe what is yours, you breathe what is mine

Calliope and Solas both see each other as the same as the other, but in different ways. Calliope sees Solas as another elf, just like them, someone that is going to understand where they’re coming from. Or at the very least he’ll be accepting of it. Solas sees them as a hopeful ally in his plans to bring back the world to how it was before, just as Falon’Din helped him. This song is entirely them in almost every way, they see each other as the wolf tearing into the other with no teeth. A worse way to go than those with fangs, slow and painful.

Revival || Echos

I’m afraid that we won’t make it || We always run from all our conversations|| You and I we’ve both been changing|| But now our lives are so damn parallel, I think it’s worth it if we save this

Every single time Calliope and Solas have an argument, Callie attempts to bring back, they try to reign it in. Whether it’s over turning Cole into a human, keeping the Wardens with the Inquisition, or Calliope defending the Circle Mages. They always end up feeling as if they’ve overstepped their boundaries but they want to save what remains of their relationship. No matter what happens, they love him dearly and they want to make it work. Even if sometimes it’s hard to face him.

It Will Come Back || Hozier

I know who I am when I'm alone || Something else when I see you ||You don't understand, you should never know how easy you are to need

Again, this entire song is just rife with symbolism towards Solas being Fen’Harel, but this particular line rings true for the both of them. Solas changes the way he is towards everyone when their with him, but most of all Calliope. And in the end Calliope changes a few things about themselves when they’re around Solas. Both want the other and it’s easy to need their partner, but neither of them can find a way to make things better.

Heavy In Your Arms || Florence & the Machine

This will be my last confession|| "I love you" never felt like any blessing ||Oh, whispering like it's a secret || Only to condemn the one who hears it with a heavy heart

Eventually, Calliope has to come to terms with the fact that the two of them may have been in love --it was real and great sometimes-- but in the end it wasn’t healthy. Evil people can fall in love and do nice things for the people they care about, but ultimately there was a choice to be made and Solas walked away. He decided that their love wasn’t worth sacrificing for, and on the other side, Callie felt the same way.

Calliope/Isidoro ( @trans-aloth ‘s boyo)

Unworthy || Vancouver Sleep Clinic

You are so worthy of everything I have to give|| But I burn with feeble offerings Nothing to sustain, fan against the flame || Oh what I've made

Both of them on some level feel unworthy of the others love, but Isi most of all. He feels unworthy to call himself Dalish and he feels embarrassed at most notions of it. But Calliope reminds him that no matter what happened when he was taken he’s still deserving of the love he wants. He’s deserves to take part in whatever he wishes with his heritage. They help each other feel worthy of everything good in the world that’s been given to them.

Atlas: Two || Sleeping At Last

Sweetheart, you look a little tired || When did you last eat? ||Come in and make yourself right at home, stay as long as you need || Tell me, is something wrong?|| If something's wrong you can count on me|| You know I'll take my heart clean apart, if it helps yours beat

Isidoro and Calliope don’t start off as romantically involved, they start off as the best of friends. They both care about each other to a large extent and would do anything to help the other. When Callie finds out their pregnant with Athim, Isi drops everything to tell them he’s here for them. In this relationship they check on each other and make sure they’re happy, if they’re in need of something they always try to provide what they can.

I Get To Love You || Ruelle

I get to love you. || It's the best thing that I'll ever do. ||I get to love you, it's a promise I'm making to you: || Whatever may come your heart I will choose || Forever I'm yours, Forever i do.

Both of them make promises to each other to take things as they can, to provide for each other and raise their children with love. Even when things are hard and there’s not an end in sight, they figure things out. Together, and that’s what matters. Calliope couldn’t ask for anyone better to spend their days with and believe they chose the right person in the end.

All Of Your Glory || Broods

It's scaring the both of us, the things that we've seen|| The places we know we must go, but I've only loved one person through all|| Don't need an apology to make it right, I just need you as a whole|| Don't want an apology to make it right, I want you in all of your glory|| All of your glory

Trespasser was insurmountably hard, the things they had already been through had been more than enough and here they were going through tough shit again.They are frightened and angry at everything that’s happening, especially with little Athim being only two or three years old at the time. Calliope wanted to scream apologies at everyone for knowing most of all what was going on but not realizing that Fen’Harel was Solas. There were so many things they wanted to tell people and couldn’t, they were just so afraid. But the two of them held each other through it all, they would come out find in the end.

Can’t Help Falling in Love || Haley Reinhart

Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can't help falling in love with you|| Oh, shall I stay, would it be a sin|| Oh, if I can't help falling in love with you?

All in all, Calliope and Isi fell for each other while they were just best friends. Neither really knew if it was the right time to tell the other person that they wanted to be with the other. Calliope fell softly and gently in love with him, realizing that he loved them unconditionally. There wasn’t anything too hard, he wouldn’t just walk away if they needed the help. Isi was the one for them and they never looked back.

#x: wolves without teeth #x: you are worthy #calliope lavellan #isidoro rosetti

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lenezdansleruisseau · 6 years ago

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So, since I missed my deadline for posting my fanfic (again, what a surprise) I decided to post the first part here to make up for it, it should be completed and posted on my ao3 for monday. Enjoy this sneakpeek for now!

There was someone knocking at the door his bedroom. Whoever they were, Grantaire was going to murder them.

“Go away!” He exclaimed his voice still coarse with sleep.

“R, you promised me you were going to make me do a tour of the gardens and the light at this time of the day is perfect,” protested the disembodied voice of Jehan from outside the door.

“Prouvaire, you’re a poet, not a painter, you don’t need perfect light,” Grantaire reminded him even though he had already forced his feet on the cold floor. He knew that Jehan could win whatever argument when he wanted to.

“Light, my dear friend, it’s the nourishment of the soul. A poet needs it as much as a painter.”

“Still not a good enough excuse to wake me up at this devilish hour in the morning,” Grantaire noted opening the door.

“R, it’s eight o’clock, not the crack of dawn.”

“You must be wrong, my dear friend, I could have sworn that I felt the rose-coated fingers of Eos caress my cheeks just few seconds ago.”

“You would be so lucky to have the luminous Hyperion’s daughter in your bed,” Jehan snorted but he had an amused smile on his face.

“She’s not the offspring of rightful Hyperion and bright Theia whose embrace I long for,” Grantaire reminded him with a wink, but at those words Jehan’s face darkened and his smile dimmed.

“You ought to stop speaking of Enjolras in that manner. He doesn’t like it.”

“You’re the one who’s mentioned our fair leader, not me.”

“R.”

Grantaire laughed at the expression on his friend’s face while starting to change into something more appropriate for strolling in the gardens.

“I don’t understand the point in starting to worry about this only now, I speak about Enjolras in this way since the day my mortal eyes fell upon his celestial features,” he commented while fighting with a pair of trousers.

“Things have changed since then,” Jehan noted in a sweet voice.

“He’s being nice to meet just because he feels sorry for me, the moment we’ll be back in Paris and I’ll be back to my absinthe everything will go back to normal and you’ll have no reason to worry anymore.”

Jehan sighed shaking his head, he sounded sad for some reason and Grantaire could really not figure out why.

“This is not what I meant,” he explained while offering him the suspenders that Grantaire had left on the floor the night before.

“Don’t worry, you can stop the act, Louison already told me about your hidden plan.”

“I have no idea of what you’re talking about, my friend,” Jehan said and, Grantaire had to give him that, he sounded actually confused.

“You’re a better liar than I thought. I’m talking about yours and Louison’s plan to keep me away from Enjolras. You’re doing a terrible job, I must say.”

By then, Grantaire was ready to go and the two of them got out of the room and started descending the main staircase.

“Is this what Louise told you we’re trying to do?” Jehan asked worried.

“With no doubt.”

“Well, this is why I prefer not to give Louise the task of talking about sentimental matters, it is really not her venue.”

“What does this mean?”

Jehan opened his mouth to explain, but he was interrupted by Jaques shouting something somewhere near them.

“Isn’t that your brother’s voice?” Jehan asked worriedly.

“It sure is. It must come from the drawing room. I’ll better go and try to avoid another shouting match between him and Lizi,” Grantaire said in a tired tone while approaching the drawing room. The door was slightly ajar permitting the voices to travel loud and clear to the two young men.

Grantaire had his hand on the handle when he realized they were talking about him and he suddenly froze on the spot.

“I do not keep defending him!” Lizi protested indignant.

“Yes, you do. You are, for one, completely dismissing his alcohol and gambling problem,” her brother insisted with some urgency.

Lizi huffed.

“That’s because you see a problem where there is not: he is young and he’s having fun in the capital as every other young man of his age.”

“I don’t understand if you’re really blind or if you’ve just decided to close your eyes. Do you know he can’t sleep since he stopped drinking? He nearly punched me when he discovered I locked mother’s bottles away.”

“Not so surprising, I want to punch you now,” Lizi commented in a voice that sounded almost menacing.

“And did you know he asked me for money two times last month?”

At that Lizi remined quiet. Grantaire felt a sense of guilt washing over him like a wave. He had no problem asking Jaques for money, but the idea of Lizi knowing about that made him always feel slightly sick, probably because he didn’t want to let her know how much of a failure and embarrassment he was.

Grantaire felt Jehan’s hand on his shoulder, he turned towards his friend and noticed the inquiring look on the young poet’s face. He was asking what Grantaire’s intentions were.

He didn’t know.

He knew it was wrong to spy on his siblings, but at the same time he could not ignore the feeling that they were keeping something from him, something he wanted to know with all his might.

He gave Jehan an apologetic expression and turned his attention back to the fight, hoping that Jehan would take it as the invitation to stay that it was.

“I thought so,” Jaques gloated after the silence of his sister had made her answer clear enough. “And those friends of him, all traitors and conspirators. What do you think that kind of friendships will bring him? Jail or, even worst, death and despite knowing this well you invite them here and you let them inside our family and you encourage him to seek their company as if he hadn’t enough problems beside this sickening dependence from them.”

“This is so typical of you: confusing friendship with some kind of disease. It is not our fault if you’ve never had a friend in your whole life.”

“Please, Elizabeth, don’t become childish. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice his obsession with… what is his name again? Enjolras, right.”

“That is nothing of your businesses,” Lizi stated icily.

It is not your father business whose affection your longing for, Lizi had once told him, many years before. Even then, when Grantaire was old enough to defend himself, she was still protecting him fiercely. He didn’t know what he did to deserve a sister like that.

He shivered at the thought of what he had said to her the day before. She didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect, especially not from him.

“Yes, yes, it is, if this is the reason while I’ll have to bury my brother. And you should be concerned too,” Jaques pressed in an almost accusatory tone.

“Adrian is not like that,” she protested with passion.

“How can you say that? Is it only because he doesn’t wave his political opinions under your nose? Have you forgotten what kind of blood runs in his veins?”

“Lower your voice,” ordered Lizi hastily. “Someone could here you.”

“And what then? I’m fed up keeping mother’s shameful secrets, you know that lying is a sin, right?”

“It is not shameful. It is a necessary secret. She was married, when it happened, in the eyes of your precious God.”

“But keeping it hidden from him…”

“Was the right thing to do.”

“Well, go on then, keep building this ivory tower around him, keep telling him that everything is all right, that he is doing everything perfectly, that it was mother’s fault or Marcus’ fault. Parade him around twice a year when he’s not drunk and dressed with clothes you chose for him as if that was your real brother and not some pale copy of himself and when he will not chose the life you’re trying to impose on him, convince yourself it was all you could do while you retrieve his lifeless body from some firing squad.”

“I’m fed up, Jean. Fed up!” Lizi shouted indignant at the end of her brother’s speech. “I sacrificed almost everything for this family: Philippe was ready to wait for me to go on with my career before marriage, but, no, oh no, I had to marry to provide a second family to my siblings because they needed to escape. And when Marcus died who did tend to mother? I did. And who did take care of the house? I did. And still, despite everything, any time you need to put the blame on someone you put it on me: Marie’s fleeing, Angelique’s engagement and now whatever you’re trying to accuse Adrian of. I’m sick of it, Jean.”

“Whatever I’m trying to accuse him of? Oh, for the Lord’s sake, Elizabeth, for once in your life stop playing the martyr and actually try to make a good job of helping our family.”

“Get out. Get out of here now,” she ordered him with finality.

“No, I’m not finished yet but if you want to go away, I won’t stop you.”

“Now you listen to me, you ungrateful bother, I was here taking care of this house and of our mother while you were traveling around furthering your career so I get to decide who has to leave a room and besides, I’m the six month pregnant woman: if I tell you you’re the one who has to move, you are the one who has to move.”

In the room reigned silence for some long seconds and then, without any warning, Jean Alexandre stormed of with a dark expression on his face. Grantaire and Jehan had to kneel behind a dresser to not be seen.

In the moment his brother’s silhouette disappeared up the stairs Grantaire stood up and swiftly entered in the living room. His sister was still there, slouched on an armchair, one arm around her belly the other over her face. She seemed so tired.

“Lizi, is everything all right?” He asked her approaching.

“Adrian! How long have you been here?” She inquired instead of replying, uncovering her face and trying to straighten up.

“I just arrived,”Grantaire lied. “I was showing the gardens to Jehan. You seem quite unwell, Lizi.”

“Oh, it is nothing, my dear. Just another quarrel with our bother.” She said dismissing the subject with a shrug.

“You shouldn’t stress so much in your condition. Let me take you in your bedroom so you can rest for a while before lunch.”

Elizabeth moved to protest but Grantaire stopped her.

“Before you say anything let me remember you that you’re doing it for the baby not for yourself.”

Elizabeth let a long sigh escape from her lips and nodded.

She was asleep even before her head touched the pillow.

#les miserables #grantaire #exr #guest starring #jehan prouvaire #and also #Grantaire's siblings #my writing #meet the family #the one with a lot of family secrets

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xforeverweareyoungx · 7 years ago

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Sinful Nights

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst | Friends with Benefits

Word Count: 1891

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“Thank you for everything, but I can’t give you anything more than this..“

It was never meant to happen, never supposed to get this far. Not when you were aware of the fact that he would never, ever, develop any feelings for you, let alone consider you as someone he would like to share his life with..

New college meant new people, and new people meant new friends. That was how you were introduced to Park Jimin, the boy with the charming smile and the one and only heartbreaker of your college.

You were never interested in his charms, never liked the way he treated girls as if they were his toy he would like to play with whenever he desired. In your eyes, Park Jimin was nothing other than a playboy, the the person you never wanted to get involved with.

But just like any other person, you too, were a human being who was allowed to make mistakes. You were too emotional and drunk to care about what was going to happen and him, being the womanizer he was, didn’t even mind knowing who he was dragging to his bedroom, hands wrapped around your waist as he was whispering sweet little things into your ear.

So, what started as a drunken mistake had turned into something which even the two of you couldn’t understand, the nights you both shared in each other’s bed getting too addictive to stop before you both even realized what was happening.

The stranger you once hated with all your life turned into someone you now referred as your friend, the nights spent together making you both nothing more or less than friends with benefits.

He never liked the idea of settling down, and you never wanted to be in a relationship until you were sure that you found the love of your life. With that, you both decided to keep the facade of being enemies in the outside world, making sure that nobody knew about your complicated friendship so it wouldn’t be a barrier for your love life whenever you both found your significant other.

So, you watched how he flirted with every girl he laid his eyes on and made sure to look away whenever you realized that he was indeed dragging a girl in the direction of his bedroom.

The tugging at your heart was something you decided to ignore as long as you could, your naivety about your feelings being the reason why you felt so uncomfortable and slightly irritated.

Slowly but surely, the tugging turned into an ache and soon, you were more than heartbroken whenever you saw his arms wrapped around an other girl’s waist.

None the less, he would always come back to you at the end of the night, asking you about your day and making sure to cuddle you as much as he can before he left for his new ‘date’.

Soon, you realized that your feelings were getting out of hand, and as much as it hurt to admit, you decided that you weren’t going to say it out loud as much as your heart wanted you to do so.

So, you kept your feelings a secret for two more years, making sure to bury it deep down in your aching heart, until one day, when you realized that it was too late.

“I told you to not fall in love with me, Y/N..”

Weeks turned into months and months turned into years. Just like any other heartbreak, your aching heart learned to heal itself yet again and soon, you were just like you were three years ago, happy and peaceful.

Being a successful business woman, you were constantly busy with work, your life too hectic for you to remember the past and especially him. But life wasn’t a movie and therefore, you weren’t a heroine who would be able to control everything.

Just like you weren’t able to control the day you saw him again..

“Hey, can I get the regular please?“ You said as you smiled at the sweet little girl working behind the counter.

Smiling at you sweetly, she nodded her head once and turned her back to you, readying your cup of coffee just like every morning. Already knowing how much you had to pay for your drink, you reached out for your purse, taking the money out so you could leave as soon as you could before you were too late to your meeting.

Before you could hand out the money, you felt how your purse slipped out of your grip, and right before you were able to kneel down to pick it up, you felt a presence beside you, already kneeling down.

“Ah- You don’t have to- Thank you-“

Just before you could end your sentence, the person looked up and with that, you felt your whole body freeze the moment you connected your eyes with his brown ones. In that moment, you felt something brust inside your chest, the realization hitting you hard.

Without even taking your drink, you walked past him as fast as you could, your heart beat increasing with each step you were taking towards the door of the little café. Throwing yourself out of the door, you tried to ignore the voice, his voice, that was calling for your name, desperate to make you stay.

Only when you felt a strong grip around your wrist did you stop running, your body being forced to turn around by his strong hold. “Please wait..”

Yanking your arm away forcefully, you took a few steps back, the panting making it hard for you to speak. “What do you want?!”

As you were waiting for his answer, you watched how he observed your whole face with his dreamy eyes, the little teardrops forming at the corner of them making you feel even more helpless than you felt three years ago. “God, I missed you..“

Hearing those words, your breath hitched in your throat and slowly, you started shaking your head from side to side. “Don’t. Don’t do this to me, Jimin.“

“I wasn’t ready, Y/N..“

A sarcastic chuckle left your mouth. “So you thought running away would be the best way for you to get rid of me?“

“No, Y/N-“

“Every day, every moment, it was at every breath that everything hurt, Jimin.. I cried for days, even weeks, until I had no tears left to cry..“

You watched how he averted his eyes down to the floor, his tears rolling down his face and wetting the cement beside his feet. “I won’t tell you to ask me how I was or how I dealt with everything“, you said as you gulped down the forming lump in your throat, “because believe me, it’s too hard for me to remember that time of my life..“

The man standing in front of you started shaking uncontrollably, his sobs echoing through the slightly busy street. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. Tears were already rolling down your face as much as you tried to avoid them, making it harder for you keep your strong looking facade in front of him. “Do you know what it feels like to lose something you’ve got so used to, Jimin?“

“I’m sorry.. I’m really sorry, Y/N..“ you heard him mumble.

“No you’re not, Jimin. You never were! You knew how scared I was, you knew how unprepared I was but you still chose to run away!“

“I was scared too, Y/N!“ he hissed as he went his fingers through his hair.

“That doesn’t give you the right to run away the next morning you find out that I was pregnant!“

“What were you expecting from me, Y/N? I told you at the beginning that I wasn’t the type to settle down, to have a serious relationship.“

You felt how your blood started boiling, the anger engulfing your whole body. “I expected you to stay! I expected you to be by my side even though I knew that you would never have feelings for me! I expected you to be at least there for your child who didn’t even get the chance to witness the light of this cruel life, Jimin!“

Jimin’s head shot up the minute those last words left your mouth, his whole body freezing as he looked at your sobbing form. No, it couldn’t be true. He misheard your sentence. There was no way that those words were true.

“W-What.. What d-do you m-mean?“ he asked with his shaky voice.

You, on the other hand, were sobbing into your hands hysterically, the memories ripping your heart into a million pieces, making it hard for you to breathe probably.

Suddenly, you felt your whole body being shaken by him. Not being able to stand any longer, you kneeled down on the concrete, Jimin sitting right in front of you with his shaking body. “Answer me, Y/N! What are you talking about?!“

“I.. I h-had a miscarriage..“

Was this how it felt when you were being shot right in the head? Was this how a cardiac arrest felt? Because in that moment, Jimin felt like he was dying slowly, his body giving up on everything. It felt like the whole world stopped spinning, everything frozen except for him and you. Slowly but surely, the sobs turned into whimpers, and the whimpers were then replaced by silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me?“ Jimin asked with his hoarse voice, his hands still shaking as he stroke yours for comfort.

“You were gone. What was I supposed to tell you? You didn’t want the child in the first place so I thought it wouldn’t even be important for you to know how we were doing.“

It was silent again.

“I regretted leaving you the minute I left your house, Y/N.. You were constantly on my mind, heck, you were everywhere! I wanted to come back to you so badly! I wanted to come back and tell you how much I loved you and that I would be by your side no matter what! But then I heard that you moved away and were having a happy and peaceful life. I couldn’t ruin your life like that again, Y/N..“

You looked up into his bloodshot eyes. “I wish I had never known you, Jimin..I wish I had never fallen in love with you..“

“I‘m sorry..I‘m sorry for everything I have done Y/N.. But please, please give me another chance..“

Just before you could give a respond to his plead, you heard your name being called from the distance. Within a few seconds, you felt two strong arms helping you up, observing your whole body for any injuries with those worry filled eyes. “Y/N, look at me. Are you okay? I was so worried! What happened to you? Who is this?“

Turning your head away from the man who was standing beside you, you looked back at Jimin who was watching you with confused eyes. Standing up, he tried to get you out of the stranger’s hold but stopped midway when he noticed how you nuzzled your body further into the man‘s embrace. “Y/N, who is this?“

Taking a deep breath you turned your head back to the man who was standing beside you, your eyes observing his beautiful dark brown ones. “Jimin, this is Yoongi, my fiancé..“

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