#i ended up giving her some clothes my son had outgrown

[ponderingpathways]

Guys. GUYS. (Also ladies and gentlethems) I did. SO MUCH. Laundry today! Just, so, so much. Out washer has been unreliable for a while so it kept getting put off until mama didn't have no normal undies left and baby was scraping the barrel for un-food stained clothes. Papa wasn't doing to hot either. (We also had a comforter that the cats had puked on a whiiiiile ago but it is too big for our washer) I loaded up several heaping bags and went to the local laundromat.

Mega washers are the best for oversized comforters with dried cat vomit on them.

All that (plus the dryer in the lower right) are mine. I had already folded a few bags at this point but had more to go! My feet and my lower back were VERY UPSET WITH ME by the end.

This is it. The end. So much laundry somehow packed so it seems less so. Careful folding? Who knows? And honestly, there is far more at home that could have come with. .....I may need to do a clothing purge.

But anyway! I am starting the new year off with clean clothes and God willing, it will set me into this 2023 with my best foot forward!

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.36 - End

A Chance Meeting

08/08/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 10,158

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, creepy dudes

A/N: The end. 😭 I hope you’ve enjoyed it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs. REBLOGS are always welcome.

*pictures relay only style of clothing and not physical appearance/race

Silken sheets that are cool to the touch. A roaring fire. The heartbreaking smell of peony blossoms.

A wooden bucket—your wooden bucket—full of ice-cold water.

A chill warmed by a feverish heat wrapped around your back.

All of these thoughts-no. They’re more like memories.

All of them have come to you over the course of a year.

They grow more elusive as they come.

Before you thought you could almost see a garden with an ocean of pink peonies in varying shades of blush to wine.

Now, after months of having these strange visions, they have become condensed into single colors at random. The most frequent is a shade of gold. A circle of blue.

You think these memories might be important but you cannot grasp onto them long enough to make any sense of them.

There’s also the fact that you know they cannot possibly be memories.

You have never seen a garden of peonies.

You’ve had plenty of chill in your life but a warmth like the one you’d recalled at the beginning of the year when the winter cold had been at its worst is as unfamiliar to you as the looming manor on the hill above the village.

With a small groan, you stop and set the bucket down. Your arms are strong enough to carry it but after so harsh a winter, you’d be a fool not to take care.

You’d only just managed to make it out alive after devoting so much time to your little one.

You suppose the golden hue you keep remembering is similar to your baby’s hair. Just a shade or two off. Just as beautiful.

The estate sits looming at the peak of a hill that sits almost a mile away from the village.

The manor itself, you can see, has been expanded. It has the appearance of a small castle now with towers and battlements. The parapet walls that now surround the structure offer crenels to whatever guard the now small castle may need.

It had sat there abandoned for so long, the lord once given task to watch over it and Bright Rise as well as several other small villages in this part of the kingdom having left.t

With the primary building made of wood, the added masonry has really given the old place new life.

What magnificent furnishings must it have? Gilded and ornate probably. Chairs worth more than everything you own.

What type of person has taken residence there? Is it someone you’d know?

Someone beautiful probably. A handsome lord and his gorgeous lady. Both of them probably members of his Majesty King Anthony’s court.

Do they have children? A young little lord or lady running around causing mischief.

You find yourself smiling, made happy by the image you paint in your head.

It makes you only a little sad that you picture yourself there. Your baby in your arms. Your husband…

My husband?

Silly…You don’t have a husband.

But you yearn for something you very nearly miss. Something you know you should have. Something…precious.

“Hello there, little mouse.”

You gasp, startled out of your daydreams and turn on your heel in search of the horrible voice.

With a stuttering heart you spot Phin, standing with his grimy hands in his tattered pockets.

“What do you want?” You ask him, voice cold but wavering as you grow wary.

Already you’re searching with a quick glance for the nearest route of escape.

You hunch over, grabbing your bucket and attempt and fail to stifle your groan of effort.

Phin lunges forward, his hand thrown out towards you. It makes you flinch. You keep your eyes shut as you wait for the blow.

It never comes.

Slowly you peek, searching for Phin's extended hand and find it wrapped around the rope handle of your bucket.

“What are you doing?” You ask, confused and fearful. “Let go.”

“I can treat you right, little mouse. I can give you proper protection. I’ll even pretend that bastard brat of yours is mine.

“I’ve been patient. I may not be able to wait much longer.” His voice is like sludge, creeping down your spine raising chills of terror as it goes.

You yank on the handle, urging him to release it. You meet his gaze, matching his threat with your own angry stubbornness.

You will not give in to him. Not now. Not ever. Even with your little one…you can’t.

He keeps holding it, refusing to let go until you feel like you’d rather drop the water and come back for more later.

He drops the rope and you stumble back a step, not having realized how much you were actually pulling on the bucket.

Some water spills but you’re just thankful to be free of Phin and you rush away to be even further. A glance back when you’re close to your small home shows you Phin still standing where you left him.

He’s watching you.

You hate him.

Getting inside, you shut the rickety door tight, resting your forehead against the splintered wood as you wait for your heart to stop pounding.

From behind you a sudden “goo" chases the tension and fear from your body. Your shoulders relax.

With a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you turn in search of the cooing source.

Nestled into a bed of hay, covered with a thick blanket of navy fabric, is your little one.

A hair of golden hair and eyes as blue as the deepest ocean have enraptured you. Stolen your heart and changed your world.

“Are you finally awake?” You gush, moving to place your bucket by the crumbling and unlit fireplace before you make your way to him.

His chubby little legs kick away his tunic. A plain brown piece of linen you’d stitched together to keep him clothed.

At six months, he’s nearly outgrown it.

When you offer your arms, he throws his weight to his left until he can roll onto his stomach and then reaches for pivots towards you.

Sliding your hands underneath his arms, he grabs you and you lift him up then place several kisses to his chubby baby cheeks.

He's gorgeous, your baby boy. His smile is sun bright and the gleam in his eyes is sharp and observant.

The expressions he wears on his little face are familiar. They pull and tug at something too but you can’t focus on it long enough to care.

Your boy is your world and that’s all you need to know.

“Is my sweet boy hungry?” You wonder while moving for the bucket of water you’d lugged into the hut.

You dip your hand in and for a moment relish in the feel of the water on your hand. A sudden desire to be submerged in steaming hot water that smells like a spring garden overcomes you, but it’s gone by the time you gently swipe across your little one's face.

He protests you cleaning his face. Whining a little and twisting in your arms until you’re done and wait with both arms supporting him for his sputtering to stop.

He looks at you and after taking another moment to overcome his displeasure, he smiles again.

You chuckle and move to grab the swaddling blanket you’ve set aside for his use alone and sit with it in your lap as you lean back a little to expose your breast to feed him.

A song you feel you almost dreamt slips from your lips in a soothing hum. With your eyes shut you can almost see a beautiful gown sweep around your feet.

Strong arms hold you close as they lead you around a crowded room.

The image is like a dream too, part of the song you’re humming. You’ve never been in so vast a hall, tables laden with food and the satin gown you wear is softer than any rag you’ve ever worn.

No. You’ve never been bathed in such luxury.

This hovel is your home with its mostly dirt floor, loose cobblestones shoved around in spots you’d set aside to keep dry.

No windows. A door that hangs off its hinges. A straw bed. A patched roof.

As your son feeds and you allow your mind to put away the dream of nice things, you assess the hut you’ve made your home.

You’re almost certain that you’d had it in better condition before. The door had hung straight, the rickety fireplace had been sturdy and homely.

The floor had been more even. Your straw bed had been less lumpy.

You’d had another small shelf with your plates and cups. Your sewing kit safely stored in the cupboard below.

Your home had not been grand but it had been comfortable. It had been yours and you’d cared for it delicately and made it a sanctuary.

When had it changed so much?

As you attempt to remember when this place fell apart your mind is forced to confront several other unanswered questions that you seem to think on often but always forget.

It’s almost as if the thoughts are pushed from your mind until they are brought to the surface once more.

The one question that started it all…the one that had made you pause. You still remember the miller’s wife, staring at you at the small grocer's shop while you waited to pay for your bushel of potatoes.

“Oi, orphan. How much longer ‘til you have the babe?” She'd asked, her eyes narrowed as she considered your swollen belly.

You'd stroked it, smiling fondly at the little life growing within you.

“A fortnight.” You’d answered, happy and content despite your poor living.

“Ah, and who's the father?” She'd asked, then waited as your smile slowly fell.

You’d stood there for a few minutes, waiting your turn but lost in thought at the question that had never once occurred to you in the seven months since your belly began to grow.

“I…I don’t know.” You’d admitted to her and her eyes filled with a solemn worry.

“Looks like they finally cornered you. Didn’t get a look at ‘is face?” She'd wondered and it was then that you realized what she thought.

Your precious baby, your little growing bean, was the product of one of the village men forcing himself on you.

But it wasn’t true!

As you sit with your son in your arms, rocking him back and forth as he eats, you know without a doubt in your mind that your son was made with love.

You can feel it within your very soul. There was passion and love and devotion in his making.

A golden aura, warm and encompassing that gave you your own little ray of sunshine. But even though you know this you cannot see his father.

There is no father. Only your Joseph.

He stirs in your arms. You find him smiling, finished with his meal. And just like that, your thoughts are lost to his special allure.

“All done?” You ask him and he yawns.

You begin to wrap him up in the blanket you’d made for him and bring a basket from the corner of your hut.

It’s a decent size with straps sewn into the wicker so that you may put it on your back.

You place it before you, balanced between your legs and gently lay Joseph within. You make certain he's wrapped up tight and kiss his cheek before you fit a domed lid on top.

The lid covers his head and keeps him safe from the summer heat.

“We'll check the traps and then come right back.” You promise him and lift the basket onto your shoulders, listening as he coos long baby words that say nothing.

It’s like he’s talking to you, the quiver of his voice moving up and down with inflection as if he knows what he’s doing.

He takes a breath and then starts again, “Oooh-awhhhh-wahhhhhh-ooooohhhhhhh…”

You can’t help but smile, your skin greeted by scorching sun as you start your trek into the trees behind your home.

“Let's check the traps by the pond first, then we'll check the bog by the road.” Joseph coos along with you.

~~~~~~~~~~

The view is spectacular.

It’s downright scenic from up here so high on the hill. Even if the beautiful valley is slightly tarnished by the village below.

It’s part of the reason he decided to keep the purchase.

Several months ago, Steve had found the deed to the manor on Sunbright Hill.

He'd sat for nearly an hour while he'd considered the paperwork, trying to remember why he’d made the purchase of such a dilapidated plot.

The lord that had once resided here had apparently vacated when he'd married a lady of considerable wealth but she preferred the Capital city to Bright Rise below so, they’d left and never come back.

Slowly the manor began to rot and the village, without its caretaker, had also fallen into poverty and corruption.

The farms were all but dead. Only two were still in use and had the season failed once in the past few years, the village would have surely fallen.

“Steve?” Bucky sighs, moving into the renovated den.

Steve stands by the large arched windows behind his massive oak desk.

The chair is angled towards the glass, distracted as he's been lately, he can’t seem to get any work done.

“Steve?” Bucky says louder.

Steve blinks, pulled from his brooding to notice his friend. He turns and waits, saying nothing.

“She's here.” Bucky smiles.

Steve’s heart gives an eager stutter as his own bearded face breaks into a wide smile.

“Where?” He asks, moving towards his oldest friend.

“She’s with Nat in the dining room. She was hungry.”

Steve is already out the door, stomping with wide steps down the hallway, then another and another, down a staircase then to the east side of the manor towards the dining room.

It’s a long room, a table long enough to sit at least forty people takes up most of the center space.

Each wall has been adorned with tapestries and paintings, an iron chandelier with sixty candles hangs at the center of the room, currently unlit.

Instead, windows on both sides of the room sit open, a cool breeze blowing in to cool the manor from the summer heat.

As Steve thrusts the doors open, he spots a grouping of his closest friends. Sam, Wanda, Pietro, Peter who is actually squatting beside the chair they are all surrounding, and Natasha in the one beside it.

In the chair is a cherub. An angel. A literal princess dressed in pale pink. Her golden hair, a shade darker than Steve’s is pinned back on one side with clasp of small and ornate white peony blossoms.

“Maggie!” Steve calls, the honey in his deep voice soft and flowing as his heart swells in his chest.

The toddler turns her head, searching aimlessly as his voice echoes around the room. Her right hand full of jelly and toast as she’d sat munching, she now opens and holds her fingers wide as she isn’t coordinated enough to recognize when the food has fallen from her tiny grasp.

Everyone is watching her, despite the presence of their King and Steve cannot blame them. Her eyes find him and she releases a high squeal of excitement before she turns in her seat to take hold of the arm.

“Wait, Maggie, your hands are a mess.” Nat says, her voice full of amusement.

But little Maggie has no patience for cleanliness with her papa so close.

“Papa!” She screams, turning to look at him as she stands on the chair.

Her lips wrap around the name with a slur, her talking improving but still just beginning.

Nat continues to wipe her hands as Steve laughs and moves for her, arms extended.

Maggie bounces on her feet excitedly. Her pink dress swishing with every move.

As he reaches her, she allows herself to fall into his arms and he catches her, spinning her once as he presses a long kiss to her cheek.

Maggie laughs, her hands wrapped around Steve’s head so tightly that Steve wonders if her strength is increasing or it’s just his imagination.

“She has been asking about you all week.” Nat says, rising and then turning to Bucky as he approaches her to give her a kiss.

“We'll give you some space.” Wanda offers then moves around the chair towards the exit.

Steve stops his turning to watch her go, Pietro following.

“Will you be going back to Broklin?” He wonders, wondering if the twins only came to escort Maggie.

“No. We'll visit with Tony.” Pietro nods, then both of them stop at the door and bow before heading off at what must be Pietro’s run.

“How was the journey?” Steve worries, turning his eyes on Nat.

“It was fine. She was a little fussy last night but as soon as I explained that we were coming to see her papa, she converted her energy to enthusiastic impatience.” Nat chuckles. “She really has been asking for you. ‘Papa where?’, ‘Where Papa?’, ‘Papa, Papa, Papa…’. It’s almost as if it’s the only word she knows.”

“She’s never been away from him for so long.” Bucky observes, both he and Nat watching as Maggie places her little hands on Steve’s cheeks, her fingers exploring the edges of his beard while Steve admires her little face.

“I’m sorry, my treasure. I just wanted to make sure the manor would be ready when you arrived.” He tells her.

She seems to understand as she tilts her head to one side and throws her hand up, bent at the elbow as she babbles a string of words only she understands.

“Do you forgive me?” Steve begs.

Maggie giggles sleepily then leans forward to lay her head on his shoulder.

Steve strokes her tiny back, caressing her hair a bit as her eyes begin to close.

“How long will you stay, Nat?” Steve asks, his voice dropping a bit in volume to respect his sleeping toddler.

“Long enough for you and Sam to go and come back. Bucky and Peter will help me with Maggie.” She nods, looking for her faithful friend and Knight.

She spots him in another seat, head in hand, elbow on the table as he dozes lightly.

“He's been doting on her.” Nat explains. “Too much, perhaps?”

Sam huffs a laugh as he crosses his arms across his hard chest, tugging on the crimson tunic he’d quickly dressed himself in this morning.

“He’ll be angry we went to visit Morgana without him.” Sam observes and Steve can’t find it in him to deny it.

The romance that had bloomed between them had seemed to come out of nowhere for him.

In the back of his mind when he’s been laying in bed with Maggie beside him, he can almost remember a conversation about their eventual marriage. When he brought it up to Nat—he was fairly certain the topic had been discussed with a woman—she admitted to the thought never even crossing her mind.

She’d praised the match and teased Peter afterwards, but it has left Steve with another unanswered question.

So many…so many strings that he’s tried to pull on only to find the way blocked.

Maggie coos in his arm, another bout of baby babble in her sleep that pulls him from his pondering.

“We’ll head out in a few hours.” He tells Sam who straightens up and nods. “I would like to go now, but I want to spend a bit of time with Maggie before I leave her again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours with Maggie turned into thirty minutes.

The longer Steve sat with her in his arms, the more eager he was for her to wake.

He’s missed her but knows that she’s tired so in an effort to get the visit over with and return to his smiling princess, he tucks her into her crib in his bedroom then hands her care over to Nat who sits by the window while Bucky sees them out.

“How long will you be, your Majesty?” Bucky wonders, keeping pace with Steve’s quick and long stride.

“Not long. I’ve only to invite him to the ball in two weeks and we’ll return. I’m certain we’ll be back before dinner.” Steve assures him. “I hear you and Natasha are considering adopting a child?”

Bucky smiles. “There is another option, one that Natasha is most eager to try but I think I’ve convinced her to reconsider.”

Steve regards his friend skeptically.

“Truly, I think I have. She met with a witch a few weeks ago and apparently there is a way for Natasha to regain her ability to have a child.” Bucky explains, his expression a little darker.

Steve’s confusion is evident in the narrow of his brow. Despite his curiosity, he keeps his eyes fixed ahead as they move along the south hall to the stables.

The fall of their shoes echoes along the empty corridor, still only half decorated as it was only finished a few days ago. Steve can still smell the fresh clay between the stones underneath their feet.

He’ll have carpets put in to quell the sound.

“Isn’t that what you both want?” He wonders.

Bucky shakes his head. “I want her to be happy. She thinks I want a child of my own. Naturally my own. But I don’t care if the child is mine by blood. I just want to love her.”

“Magic like that of which she speaks comes with a hefty price.”

“That’s why I refuse to accept it.” Bucky sighs, the worries of his world evident on his shoulders.

“The price is too high?” Steve wonders, finally looking to his friend.

“We would be granted the ability to have our own child, but the mother would have to relinquish years of her own life. Five is what the witch told her. So, if it were Nat’s fate to die at the age of sixty, five years would be taken from that and she would die that much sooner.” Bucky laments, shaking his head in denial. “I cannot condone it.”

Steve sees his friend thinking things through, biting his lip as he wonders if he should speak what has consumed his mind aloud.

He gives in, “I know that it’s her choice. If she should want to do it, I only have some say in it. If having a child truly born of us both is what would make her happy then I would have no choice but to comply, but I would rather adopt a child who we will both love as our own anyway and have my wife for five years longer.”

Steve’s heart gives a painful ache.

Something in Bucky’s words makes him sad and breaks his heart.

My wife…Steve repeats in his head, the memory of feeling proud at that very thought overtaking his senses.

“Is it Margaret again?” Bucky wonders, stopping as they reach the end of the hall. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”

Steve reaches up to stroke the spot on his chest where he can feel his heart beating. Every thump it gives sends more agony into the pit of his stomach making his head hurt.

Is it Margaret? Steve doesn’t think so.

The first time someone had asked him if it was Margaret he was mourning he admitted it was because it was easier than to tell his friends that no, it wasn’t his dead wife he was thinking of. In fact, he wasn’t sure who it was he was thinking of.

He shuts his eyes now, overcome with the sweet scent of oils. Lilac and juniper. Peonies. Fields of them. A garden full, just like back home.

A smile flitters past his sense. The image nearly chokes him. A laugh. A pout. A tear stained face made blurry as he can’t recall its beauty.

Maggie in womanly arms, pressed gently to her breast.

These elusive images that skim his mind are not Margaret. Everyone seems to ignore that Maggie is too young to be Margaret’s or perhaps they simply don’t care?

It’s almost a silent agreement that Maggie’s mother is not Margaret but who exactly she is, no one cares. No one will think on the possibility long enough for it to matter.

Even Steve loses focus after a few second of torment.

Even now, as his heart breaks painfully, Bucky puts his hand on his shoulder and gives him a shake.

Just like that, the images that pained him only moments ago are gone.

Steve smiles, breathing in deep before exhaling in a huff.

“I’ll be quick. I want to be back before it’s too dark.” With a nod from Bucky, Steve hastens his way into the stable.

Sam already has his horse saddled and waiting.

He hops on, adjusting his posture as he takes the reigns then turns to give Bucky one final wave.

“Keep my daughter happy until I return.” He orders.

Bucky waves them off and watches until they clear the large gate.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your hands are shaking with rage. Yet another night with nothing caught.

All of your snares are in fact, broken. A deliberate cut made to the wire you’d spent so much money on.

You think you know exactly who it was that came out to ruin your work. There’s only one person who would benefit from sabotaging your efforts to feed yourself and your boy.

The image of Phin standing across the field from your home, staring at you is burned into your mind.

If it weren’t for Joseph, you would happily starve before you accept Phin’s hand in marriage.

As it is, it isn’t only you. In order to feed your son, you must eat. With no one coming to you for mending—which you are also sure is thanks to Phin’s interference as it has only been happening the past few weeks—you have no money to buy anything. No grain. No bread. No meat.

If you do not eat, your son will starve.

You clutch the broken snare in your hand, squeezing so tight you can feel the wire dig into the palms of your hand.

Were they not so rough, you may have cut yourself.

You take a quick peek at the basket carefully nestled between the rough trunk of tree and large berry bush. Your little one still dozing peacefully and safely covered by the basket’s lid.

While he sleeps, you know you must be quick with the snares by the bog. It isn’t too far so you decide to let him sleep in the shade and make your way through the trees to the road’s edge.

It’s a very short walk. Should he cry you’ll hear him perfectly and be able to run back to him in less than ten seconds.

The sun beats down on the road here and the bog is nearly dried over from the heat of the summer sun.

Normally the mud within is a thick sticky paste that one can easily be caked in. You even remember fetching a purse for the old woman who used to care for you when you were little.

As you stop by its edge, you wonder where the old woman has gone. You attempt to recall the last time you’d seen her but the last memory you have is fetching her purse from the mud pit.

Forcing her from your mind, you look to the two snares you’d set up between two trees and right at the edge of the bog.

The one at the edge has also been cut. You kick it angrily before you move to the other and find that it has also been tampered with.

“Fuck!” You mutter, hating Phin with every fiber of your being.

You try to picture him beside you, laying claim over you as his wife. You think on the life you will live, trapped in your home, and expected to fulfill his every whim, wish, and desire. He will rule you with a heavy hand, command you to obey, and take what he wants from you with violence if need be.

Terror roots you to that spot between the trees, hunched over as your hands shake with anger at the lack of options for you and Joseph.

There is the other choice, the one you’ve refused to make because where might you go? Here in Bright Rise you at least have a roof over your head.

Soon fall will come, then winter after that. If you choose to leave, you might be condemning yourself and your son to a death by freeze and you can’t do that. You can’t make such a reckless choice with him so little still.

You gather as much of the wire as you can, carefully wrapping it around an empty spool you’d kept just in case, hoping to keep your anger from shifting into sorrow.

As you work, you can hear the sound of hooves behind you. Two horses at most. Perhaps three? The sound of shifting gravel too close.

There’s the clearing of a throat before a steady voice speaks. “Excuse me, might I trouble you, miss for some directions? My guard and I seem to have become lost in these backroads by the village.”

You sigh, still consumed with rage with Phin, but rise and turn to face the man who addresses you.

He’s godly, this man with golden hair and a beard to match. His eyes are piercing. Storm blue as they stare you down and you fidget with the spool in your hand as your heart does a sudden and unexpected dip into your belly where it explodes into a flurry of butterflies.

Voice choked in your throat, you look away from the beautiful man and tried to clear your head.

“His Majesty, King Steven has asked you a question, miss.” His guard says, shocking your system into an automatic curtsy as you intentionally avoid their gaze now.

“I’m sorry!” You gasp, worried you might have given offense.

“Sam, it’s alright.” King Steven says, his voice soft and coaxing.

You take a quick peek at his guard, another handsome man with deep umber skin and a soft bronze glow. His gaze is a little sterner but kind all the same.

“We did not mean to startle you.” King Steven says, the gentility in his voice luring you into taking another look at him.

When your eyes meet, you find that you can’t look away.

“I-I was checking my traps.” You relay, feeling stupid suddenly for giving him information that he has not asked for.

“I can see that.” King Steven nods, a small smile tugging up half of his full pink lips.

He’s exquisite. His dress is fine, luxurious satin and silk. His tunic is a royal blue, a silver stitching along every seam in what looks to be a small wavy pattern.

It looks familiar and your hand absentmindedly moves with the pattern of the stitch as if it remembers how to make it though you’ve never sewn on anything so fine in your life.

King Steven’s eyes notice the movement and he watches your hand before you remember yourself and speak again.

“Forgive me, your Majesty, you asked me a question.” You gasp, dropping the spool at your feet and moving around the mud pit to stand at the edge of the road, much closer to where he and his guard tarry.

King Steven smiles again, sending your heart into a pitter patter.

“If you head down this road, you will reach a fork with three smaller roads. You’ll want to take the Eastern most road for nearly four miles before you reach a second fork of two roads. Take the left and follow that road and do not stray. You will reach the Capital before noon.” You say, pointing as you give instruction.

As you finish you drop your arm and bring your hand to tug at the worn leather of your belt.

King Steven stares at you, smiling for so long that you look down at your feet and are suddenly aghast by the state of your shoes and skirts.

You’re so dirty that you’re ashamed to be seen by them. With a bite to your lip, you turn and hurry back around the mud pit to pick up your spool.

“Thank you.” King Steve says, his wide shoulders relaxed. “Might I pay you for your assistance? What is the customary amount? Five silver pieces?”

You throw out your hand to stop him, embarrassed to take payment for so small a favor. “No!”

Gasping you watch as the spool flies out of your hand. It hits the front of his horse then topples onto the road where it rolls along further down the rocky path.

King Steven dismounts as you rush forward in chase of the wire.

Both of you reach it at the same time but King Steven is first to bend over and take it.

“Oh, please…” You gasp, worried about the dirt and muck that must be caked on the tool. “You’ll dirty your hands.”

As King Steven stands upright, he dusts it off then offers it to you. “A little dirt never killed anyone.”

Your senses are assaulted by him and for a moment all you can do is stare at his hand as he waits for you to take your wire.

He smells like evergreen woods and oranges. No…limes…You’re not sure! It’s a citrus of some sort and it overwhelms your mind. His voice is deep and smooth. It works its way into your bones and nearly turns them into jelly.

“Will you not take it?” He asks, shaking the spool a little.

You look up to meet his gaze but find that his smile has disappeared. In its place is a look of severe concentration.

Is he angry with you? Have you insulted him by waiting so long to take your property?

The look in his eyes is intense. He looks almost as if he’s trying to recall an elusive memory.

You know the feeling…

Quickly you take the spool, ignoring the moment your hand brushes his. He must notice how rough your hands are. He must mix with ladies whose hands had never once known the strife of physical labor.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” You curtsy quickly, avoiding his gaze and move around him.

A hot, vice-like grip takes hold around your wrist.

You stop, turning to look at his hand then up to meet his gaze.

Gone is the look of confusion, replaced by a furrowed brow and what can only be hopeful searching within his storm blue eyes.

“Steve?” His guard warns, confused by the moment almost as much as you are.

“What are-” You whisper, voice so weak you’re surprised you can manage to speak at all.

You clear your throat and search for the courage to say your piece.

You don’t like this. The way his presence almost consumes you. His touch is burning, and you’re not sure why you feel as if you’ve also been waiting a lifetime for it.

“Unhand me.” You plead, twisting your wrist in his hand but refusing to look away from his slowly shifting expression.

He smiles and your heart stutters, fear of what it might mean making you yank a little harder, but King Steven uses the momentum of your pull to step towards you. He wraps his free arm around your waist, dipping his head down as he presses fevered lips against your own.

You’re frozen in his arms, wide eyes staring at his own now shut. His lips are fierce, his kiss is hard. It hurts a little and it takes you a moment to feel the warmth of their touch.

He drops your wrist and wraps his other arm around you, hand pressed to the back of your head as he tilts his own to one side and coaxes your lips open with a gentle swipe of his tongue.

The taste of him stuns you, your body freezing as your mind is assaulted with images all blurred together into one precious life that you’d most assuredly lost and now found again.

Your eyes grow blurry, tears flooding from the corners as your lips finally respond to Steve’s kiss.

With a gasp you pull away, sobbing once as you gobble up the sight of him.

Steve’s hands caress the sides of your face, stroking your hair and cheeks as he also devours your visage.

“I found you.” He whispers, throat tick with emotion.

You sob once more, arms pulling him towards you as you give in to the shocking relief you feel to be in his arms once more.

Your heart breaks as you clutch him close. Over a year of lost time with not only him but…

“Maggie!” You exclaim, voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s perfect,” Steve assures you, pulling back to meet your gaze once more. “She’s growing bigger every day. She has your sweetness, your love of jams and jellies.”

Steve laughs, so happy that his own tears fall too. “She calls me Papa, and she calls Sam birb.”

You laugh, shaking your head already knowing that Bucky’s to blame for that.

“I don’t think it’s that funny.” Sam suddenly says, pulling both your gazes towards him.

“Sam…” You smile.

“I’ve kept watch over her, just as I promised.” The recognition in his eyes is heavenly.

“How did this happen?” Steve asks, continuing the caress of your cheeks. “How did we lose each other.”

You sigh, licking your lips as you prepare to explain when your heart suddenly drops, and you remember another pair of storm blue waiting in a basket. “Steve…”

Without warning you turn and race into the trees, running as fast as you can to make sure that he wasn’t a dream.

You find the basket where you left it and pull it away from its hiding spot before you remove the lid, happy to find your little boy still fast asleep.

“Y/N!” Steve calls, racing up behind you where he skids to a stop. “What is it, my flower? What’s the matter?”

He sighs heavily when he finds you, moving to place his hands on your shoulders, needing to feel you it seems.

“Don’t run away from me like that…” He pleads, and your heart aches for him but this is much more important.

“Steve,” You begin, and turn to reveal the six-month-old baby in your arms. “You have a son.”

The step back he takes you attribute to shock. The heartbreak and confusion on his face you have only yourself to blame for.

“How-?” He asks, shaking his head as he stares at the tiny prince in your arms.

“Steve…” You begin, suddenly fearful of what he might say when you confess the deal you’d made with grandmother.

“No.” Steve cuts you off, reaching out to trace the shape of your arms through the dingy dress you wear. “Not here. Let’s go home.”

“To Broklin?” You wonder, relieved that he’s eager to resume your lives together.

“No, I-do you remember when I asked you if I should purchase your little hut?” Despite speaking to you, his eyes are still trained on your son.

Slowly, as he speaks, his hand skates across your arms until he can stroke Joseph’s little cheek with one tentative finger.

“Yes.” You frown, disapproving of the purchase as it isn’t your land to begin with.

“Well, when you forbade me from buying it, I bought the manor on the hill instead.” He confesses, finally meeting your gaze.

“Oh.” You’re stunned.

“I thought that it would be nice to have somewhere in Malibia to call our own. Visiting your family is something that I wanted you to feel free to do. I wanted to give you a space you could come to, somewhere near your home.” He explains sweetly sending your heart into a tizzy.

“Steve…” You reach up, pressing your palm to his warm bearded cheek while keeping a firm hold of your little one with the other.

“Come on.” Steve urges you, leaning down quickly to kiss you then pulls away slowly almost as if he doesn’t want to. “Our princess is waiting.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She’s as beautiful as the night you’d held her close, memorizing the little wheeze in her breath as she’d drifted to sleep.

She’s bigger. She’s walking, unsteadily but moving. She’s talking, indeed saying ‘Papa’ but she says other things that you’ve already picked up on.

Her little chubby limbs have stretched a bit and you can’t believe you’ve lost so much time with her.

Tears are still streaming down your cheeks while you sit here, staring at her sleeping face.

Steve’s hands support her little back as he holds her to his chest, his back resting against the ornate wooden headboard of your bed.

“She’ll know you soon enough.” Steve assures you as you nod and quickly wipe the tears from your eyes. “She was so little.”

“I know.” You reach out, caressing her little head before you look down at the even smaller boy between you both. He’s chewing on his fist, little legs up in the air as he quietly plays by himself.

He’s so good at just being alone, you feel terrible about it because you know that it’s your fault. You’ve needed him to be independent as you worked hard to earn money for both of you.

When he meets your eyes, he coos those long wordless streams of vowel. He’s talking to you, probably relishing in the plush mattress all four of you lay on.

“Shh, my sweet boy. Your sister is sleeping.” You stroke his little chest and he takes hold of your hand as he kicks his legs in excitement.

“Y/N…” Steve begins, and you know it’s finally time.

“I’m ready now.” You sniffle, meeting his look of somber confusion. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

It takes you less than five minutes to explain. Grandmother’s vision. Her actions to see it in greater detail. The truth of his imminent death. You tell him that you begged for his life and that night when Grandmother had interrupted your sleep, she’d come to tell you that she’d found a solution.

“She said the magic would ask for payment. Something that only I could give.” You hope that he doesn’t hate you, his expression unreadable as he watches you with his brooding brow all scrunched and focused. “I thought that it would be my ability to see or walk. My hearing perhaps? Or being able to speak…I never thought that it would take you and Maggie from me.

“My life perhaps? But not my memories of you. Not knowing you.” You sigh, waiting for his rage to show.

What you get instead, is a calm conversation and a gentle pout.

“But it wasn’t only your memories. It was everyone’s. The magic wiped your existence as my wife and Queen completely.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Even the villagers in Bright Rise acted as if I’d never gone anywhere. How can magic be so powerful as to erase me completely from so many minds?”

Steve shakes his head, his hand still absentmindedly stroking Maggie’s back.

“It was such a risk for you to take.” Steve frowns, his gaze piercing, and the guilt you’d felt building since you’d stepped foot in the manor crests. “How could you make such a choice without consulting with me? I’m your husband.”

“I know.” Your lip trembles. “I’m sorry. It all happened so quickly, and I had so little time to consider the consequences of my choice. All I knew was that your future was certain. You would die protecting the world and I could not give you up to it. If I had the power to save you, of course I would use it. So long as I knew that Maggie would have you, I could stand any future I had to live.”

“Even this one? Both of us separated forever?” Steve counters, holding a mirror to the past year of your life.

You shake your head, new tears springing forth as you look down at your boy who has fallen asleep once again.

“I thought I would have to marry Phin.” You admit, voice quiet so as not to disturb your little ones.

“Why?”

“I’m fairly certain he was orchestrating it. No one in the village were taking work from me to mend their clothing and today, you found me checking my snares for small game, but someone has been breaking them. Cutting the wire or simply tearing it down.

“He wanted me to be hungry enough to marry him and the bastard knew that I would do it, for Joseph if not for myself.” Your anger taints your vision red, Phin’s detestable face a memory you wish you could forget.

Mentioning your son brings Steve’s eyes back down to him. He takes one hand and reaches down, placing his finger into Joseph’s tiny open hand. He grasps his papa’s finger, a tiny fist full of surprisingly sturdy strength.

“Now that we’ve remembered, I’m panicked by the idea that you might have found a new Queen in my absence.” You confess, chewing nervously on your lip.

“Bucky and Sam suggested it. They brought Sharon around me often to try and convince to take her on, but something prevented me from doing so.” His words send your heart into your feet, your head is suddenly splitting.

Glad as you are that he doesn’t seem to have found a new wife, the possibility of it make you feel almost sick to your stomach with anxiety.

“I think perhaps I knew in some way, deep down, that I was already married. The very thought of sharing my bed with someone else drove my skin to crawl. I felt guilty, as if I were committing some grave sin.” He admits, unrelenting in his stare.

“I would not have blamed you…” You whisper, almost fearful to speak the words. “…if you had taken a new wife. If you’d had another child with someone else. I would have had no one to blame but myself.”

“No one could ever take your place.” He assures you. “Even though I didn’t remember you, your presence was greatly missed. I may not have known what it was I was yearning for, but I was wishing for you every moment of every day.”

You shut your eyes, allowing the pleasure his words give you to soak deep down into your bones.

Even though he doesn’t ask, you’d also felt the exact same way. Something had always told you that somewhere was a home waiting for you to take your place. Never would you have guessed that it was a castle in the next Kingdom over.

“Were you frightened?” Steve wonders, drawing your gaze once more.

You find him watching Joseph once again, his thumb stroking the little one’s hand.

“Expecting him all on your own?” He clarifies.

“I was afraid of how I’d take care of him.” You smile, reaching to stroke the length of his little nose. “I knew I would be alright birthing him. It was long and taxing. But he was with me so suddenly. It was over before I even knew what was happening. The miller’s wife came to check on me and she helped me for a few days after, but I had no other choice than to push on. I was up and caring for him and myself before the week was out. That’s when my fear came.

“I knew that I had to feed myself in order to keep him fed and healthy and I wasn’t sure exactly how to do it with the village set so resolutely against me. An unwed mother with a bastard child?”

“I’ll have it burned to the ground.” Steve declares suddenly.

You smile wide, your heart melting as you watch the intensity in his gaze as new love blooms for his son.

“I wish you had spoken with me about Agatha’s vision before you made any decisions.” Steve laments, an anger growing in contrast with the new love.

It effectively wipes aware the happiness his love gives you as you regret having kept him in the dark.

“If I’d told you,” You begin, voice breaking and weak as emotion gets the better of you. The sound of it brings his gaze back to you and he seems to soften with it. “You would have kept me from doing what needed to be done. There was no question of saving you, Steve. I had only just found you. Our baby girl only just born. I could not lose you.”

Shutting your eyes, you let your head fall, burying your face into your pillow.

“Imsuhsawree.” You sob, muffled against the fluff of the bed.

The silence feels endless until you’ve just about made up your mind to look at him again when a sudden snort of laughter cuts the tension with ease.

You whip your head to face him, searching for the source of the laugh only to find Steve with his hand over his mouth as his body shakes with silent laughter.

“You’re laughing?” You gasp in disbelief; certain you must be seeing things.

Your husband cannot possibly be amused in this moment while your heart and soul are drowning in guilt and grief.

“I’m sorry.” Steve chortles, a whisper of giggles as he tries his best not to wake Maggie. “Forgive me, I…”

You frown at him, displeased with his humor but he reaches for you with his hand and hooks it behind your head in a soft caress.

“It’s not funny.” You insist.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “It isn’t. I’m sorry, my flower. I’m just…so happy you’ve returned. I’ve missed you so much.”

And just like that, he’s forgiven.

The four of you lay there in bed for hours. Though your stomach is empty, you refuse to bring your hunger to Steve’s attention. Even though you know very well just how much he will be upset with you for it, you can’t bring yourself to tear your little family apart so very soon.

The sun is only just setting when Joseph decides it’s time to eat. He whimpers, a soft murmuring of whiney breaths until the air takes shape and his cries begin to grow louder.

Beside him Maggie also stirs, staring around with wide eyes as the crying rises in volume and she’s brought out of her blissful slumber.

Steve wakes last, while you are already scooping your little boy into your arms and propping yourself up against the headboard to feed him, he rubs his face and glances at the window.

“It’s already so late.” He realizes, turning back to you and Joseph while Maggie twists her body until she can lay on her stomach and then throw herself back to sit on her bottom.

Her eyes are glued to Joseph as he latches to your breast and begins to suckle. Your breasts are sore, and the pain is worse than you remember it being with Maggie, but you have no time to focus on the pain.

You make sure he can eat easily, watching him for any signs of distress.

“Did you get her a wet nurse?” You wonder, letting your eyes drift to Maggie who still sits watching you feed her brother.

“I did.” Steve nods, lifting the girl back up onto his lap. “She was so little.”

You look away, a quiver in your bottom lip as you try to push past the heartbreak that you hadn’t been there for your daughter like you’d wanted to be. “Yeah.”

Steve is familiar with you enough that he knows you don’t want to dwell on it and changes the topic quickly.

“Shall we have dinner in here? I don’t want to share either of you yet.” He confesses, stroking the back of Maggie’s little head.

“Yes.” You nod, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically at the mention of food because Steve frowns.

“Damn it, Y/N.” He gripes and gently places Maggie back on the bed before he marches towards the doors. “If you were hungry, you should have said something. After your meal, I’ll have Natasha draw you a bath.”

The prospect of a full belly and a luxuriously hot bath which you hadn’t realized you’d grown so fond of is so dreamy that your heart gives a clench and once more you feel so very happy you just might cry again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“How’s your bath, my petal?” Steve checks, moving to the edge of the bed once more as the children sleep on.

After their dinner they’d quickly begun to play. They’d explored each other’s boundaries and Maggie had made Joseph cry only once for a few minutes before they were sharing Maggie’s soft cloth dolls.

They each sleep with one in their hands, huddled close together at the center of the bed.

“Is the water too hot?” Steve pulls over a small yellow footstool, sitting upon the soft cushion.

He doesn’t wait for your answer and dips his left hand into the water, testing the temperature as you lay yourself back against the large copper tub.

“Your hand is going to smell like peonies and rose oils.” You tease him, bringing your hand up above the fragrant water.

You take a peony petal and carefully tuck it behind his ear, gentle drops of water skirting down into his beard as the pink stands in pleasant contrast to the gold of his hair.

Biting your lip, you comb it back, tracing the shape of his jaw with damp fingers.

“Even though I didn’t know you, my heart and soul yearned for you.” You whisper, sliding your hand down to rest upon his shoulders.

“And I you.” He smiles, eyes shut as you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I wonder,” You begin, pulling back to examine and rememorize every inch of his face. “Now that we are together again, whether this will negate in some way the effect of the spell?”

This thought raises a new worry in you. A fear that by meeting again you have somehow doomed Steve to die.

“Even if it has, I will not part with you again. I won’t die either.” Steve promises, but how can you take him at his word.

Magic is wicked and it will take its price one way or another.

“I have to speak to grandmother.” You counter, your gentle caress of his shoulders turned into a desperate cling.

“She’s gone.” Steve says, sending your heart into a pit within your belly. “No one has seen her since all of this started. However, there is something that I found in my office back home.”

Steve rises, moving towards his cloak left to rest on the back of a chair at the opposite end of the room.

When he returns, he holds in his hand a sealed piece of parchment, folded twice to keep its contents secure. The wax seal is a deep purple, her insignia that of a cat, back arched and head tilted up as if to yowl towards the moon.

You reach for your towel nearby and dry your hands then take the letter as Steve holds it out.

“I’ve been carrying it with me everywhere I go, hoping it would yield some explanation as to why I have been feeling so…empty.” He tells you, picking up his stool and moving to place it a bit more near the head of the tub where you sit. “Scoot forward.”

You do as he asks, staring at the letter and consider what its contents might be.

Steve’s hands disappear beneath the surface of your bathwater and emerge with a small porous sponge. It’s rough at first but with water and under Steve’s heavy hand, it becomes malleable and he begins to stroke your back, cleaning the peasant grime from your body.

“Why haven’t you opened it?” You wonder, turning it over almost expecting it to billow with glittering smoke.

“I attempted to many times. I couldn’t. The seal would not break. See there at the bottom of the fold?” He instructs.

You turn it over to look at the side with the seal and spot the small loopy writing at the bottom. The penmanship is so exquisite, you’re almost certain now that grandmother had indeed once been of noble blood.

For the Queen of Broklin.

“For me?” You gasp.

“I think it will only open for you, petal.” Steve explains as he leans closer to get the tops of your arms and then following the flow of muscle over your shoulders and down along your sides slowly.

Eager now, knowing this letter is meant for you, you tear it open and the seal breaks without fuss.

“Can you read it?” Steve wonders, no note of teasing in his voice.

Like you, he must be wondering whether so long a time away from life at the castle has made you forget everything you’d learned.

“I think so.” And with bated breath, you read, glad that you’d tried so hard to learn and only slightly surprised that you understand every single word she’s written.

If you are reading this note, it means that I was right.

First, believe me when I tell you that every word I spoke of King Rogers’s death was true. There is indeed a threat that would take his life and that of your father’s and King Thor’s as well.

I thought that perhaps King Rogers’s death would be enough to convince you that what we needed to do would be necessary and I am glad to say I was right.

What I did not tell you is that I knew the price to be asked would be the life you’d built within the castle in Broklin. I could not bear to tell you that you’d spent all that time suffering and building a family with him only to have it ripped from you.

Somehow, I don’t think you would have changed your mind even if I had.

After you spoke to me of your connection with the Asgardian king, I was wary of what it might mean for your future as Queen in the kingdom. There was only one chance to break the curse dealt by the spell to save your husband’s life and that was if you and he were always meant to be together.

Soulmates, I believe they call it. Two halves of one whole, set at opposite ends of the world to meet each other in just the right way to create what we know as destiny. In this case, the opposite ends you were placed in were poverty and wealth.

Your husband had every advantage in life while you had none. You were given no loves in life and King Rogers was given one big enough to eclipse the pull you would have for him when and if you met.

At the time, I worried that King Thor might be your true mate. The two of you were so well suited and perhaps I’m right? But if you’re reading this, it means that you and King Rogers found each other once again.

By some miracle, he or you have lifted the curse, and you can once more be together to live your lives and King and Queen of Broklin.

A fate you might not have found had I not thrown my purse into that bog by the road. I hope you appreciate my efforts, girl. I have worked very hard to walk you through this life but must now leave you to shape it on your own.

Don’t worry. I might not be with you every day, but should you need me, I will come. You don’t need to send for me. I’ll know. And rest assured, your husband’s life is safe.

There will always be evil in the world and he will always rise to fight it but be content to know that his life you most certainly have saved. Take care.

-Grandmother

You read the letter at least three times before Steve’s chin finds your shoulder, the scruff of his beard pleasantly rough against your skin.

“What does it say?” He wonders, tilting his head to kiss your neck.

You fold the letter and toss it away so that it won’t get wet, then lean back until you’re relaxed and can turn to look and admire your husband’s storm blue eyes.

“It says that no matter what might come to tear us apart, you will always find me.” You smile, reaching up to scratch underneath his chin.

Steve’s lips curl up on one side, a dashing smirk if you ever saw one.

“Always.”

[kaimelia]

never be alone

a/n: okay! this was originally supposed to be part of enough for you, but got cut out and I figured I would still turn it into it’s own fic...I hope you enjoy it! thank you to everyone who helped me out with this one!

tw:references to drug use

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

"Link?" Her voice was quiet, so soft that for a moment, she wasn't sure that she had actually said anything; the only thing she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her chest.

"Yes?" His response was stern, the way he had spoken to her the last time their relationship fell apart, when their only communication was shared over patients at work, when Amelia had lost him for the first time. She sighed at the sound of his voice. It had only been a few days, but it sounded so unfamiliar to her that it took her by surprise.

"Link, I know you're mad at me, but I need you right now." There was a pause before she heard him sigh, her hand shaking on the phone as it was held up to her ear. "Please," she whimpered, her eyes darting around.

The bathroom was dark; she'd purposefully not turned on the lights in the hopes of avoiding the reflection of herself in the mirror. Between the bags under her eyes and the knowledge of the thoughts swirling around her brain, she knew that she couldn't bear to look at herself. The floor was cold, her pajama shorts providing no warmth as she shivered slightly.

"Where are you?"

"At Meredith's, she's out with the kids, and Maggie's still on her honeymoon, and I can't be alone right now, Link; I need to not be alone right now." Another pause, followed by shuffling from his end before he made some mix of a groan and a sigh, and she felt momentarily guilty. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

"Is Scout okay?"

"Link, he's fine; he's with Mer; I need you right now."

Her mind was filled with so many dark thoughts that she was surprised she was able to speak to him. The idea of feeling the relief from taking the one thing she had sworn away a long time ago was more appealing to her than anything, and if she wasn't frozen in place, she was sure her legs would be carrying her to somewhere she shouldn't end it.

It wasn't good. She thought of her son, her son who far, far away at the park, probably running across the woodchips where he often tripped and ended up in tears. Her son, who she had to stay sober for because she didn't want to ruin his entire life all because she couldn't be a good enough mother for him.

"I'll be there in five minutes," he muttered, and Amelia heard the sound of him picking up keys.

She wondered if it was his regular key ring, the same one that held his house key, the bright blue key he'd insisted on spending an extra dollar on because it attracted Scout's attention for so long.

"Okay." She breathed out slowly, her face dropping as she heard the sound of the call ending. She brought it away from her face and frowned at the black screen in front of her.

The air around her was so quiet that Amelia was sure the world had stopped turning on its axis. She leaned her head back on the wall behind her, staring up at the ceiling and trailing her eyes over the molding of the wall.

She heard the sound of rain outside as it hit against the bathroom window, finally filling the silence around her with something. She breathed heavily.

The sound of the door opening was jarring, causing Amelia to flinch as he burst through. She somehow hadn't heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs or the door unlocking downstairs when he came in. She glanced up at him.

He looked terrible, to put it gently. He hadn't shaved in the past few days; he was wearing the pajamas he almost always wore to bed, and part of Amelia knew he likely hadn't washed them since putting them on. His hair was disheveled, longer than she remembered it being, the strands falling straight down to frame his face.

Link looked down at her, his jaw locked and his eyes dark. He kneeled in front of her slowly, placing his hand on her knee wearily. "What do you need?"

"Hold me, please." Link sighed, maneuvering himself to sit behind her against the wall, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his body. She felt him embrace her tightly, pushing his arms into her body and applying pressure.

Amelia leaned forward as if about to heave, coughing loudly and choking on her breath, her body instinctively slamming back into his as she breathed heavily. He didn't loosen his grip on her at all, and Amelia was grateful for that.

He pressed his lips against the side of her head, and for a moment, she allowed herself to think that everything was normal. That she had a rough day, lost a patient, and came home to Link, who promptly wrapped his arms around her without any question. That she wasn't on the verge of ruining years of progress in her life, that everything in her life hadn't been flipped upside down, and didn't feel entirely wrong. His embrace was so warm that she finally stopped shivering, his breath hot against her head, his stubble scratching gently against her skin.

Shivering soon turned into shaking. She was no longer cold, but her body wouldn't stop moving, and she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but her voice was gone.

Amelia didn't even realize she was crying until she felt Link's thumb against her cheek, brushing away a stream of tears. His touch was soft and gentle, and she felt his other arm lifting her ever so slightly until she was sitting on top of his legs, her body sideways against him. She subconsciously leaned into him, pushing her face into the fabric of his shirt.

The fabric smelled like him, his cologne that she knew he managed to pack before he left their home, as it had already been gone by the time she arrived. She inhaled, and the strength of it caused her to cry harder, feeling his shirt damp against her cheeks as she realized how much she had missed his comfort over the past few months when he slowly slipped away from her and seemed to turn into a different man.

She shut her eyes.

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

She woke up to the feeling of his thumb grazing against her arm, his embrace just as tight around her as when she closed her eyes. The next thing she took in was the warmth around her, sweat dripping down her face, and the smell of her damp shirt mixed with his cologne suddenly nauseating. She coughed, finally finding the strength to move, and she quickly crawled over to the toilet before vomiting into the ceramic bowl. His palm rested on her back, rubbing a circular pattern as his other pulled back the strands of her hair fallen out of her ponytail.

Her vision blurred as she sat up, reaching to flush the toilet and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, slowly standing and spitting into the sink. "Can I get you something? Tea, maybe?" Link tried, pushing himself off of the floor and standing behind her.

"No, I'm fine."

"Amelia, you need to drink something. You look-"

"Like crap? Yeah, I haven't exactly been doing very well recently," she muttered, swishing mouthwash around and spitting it out. "Water, I guess." He nodded sternly, his hand dropping from her back as he hurried downstairs, returning soon with a glass of water. Amelia turned around and took it, attempting to hide the shaking of her hand as she took a drink.

"Can I ask what happened?" The glass clinked against the sink as she set it down, her hand running through her hair and an accompanying sigh leaving her mouth.

"I was worried that if I was alone any longer, I would," her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip, drumming her fingers against the edge of the sink. "I was worried that I might relapse. And, I know that you hate me right now, but I just needed a second to breathe and make sure that I didn't find some junky oxy dealer and screw him for drugs. Because I don't know if you've noticed, but these past few months have been absolute hell for me, and I'm not going to marry you when it takes everything in me to just stay sober."

"You didn't say anything," he muttered, leaning into the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. "I didn't realize."

"How the hell am I supposed to talk to you when every time you open your mouth, you start rambling about putting the clothes Scout's outgrown in the attic so that we can use them for our next kid! Link, I don't want to have another kid. I don't want to get married, and I couldn't say anything about it because you kept shoving your happiness down my throat when all I needed was a minute to breathe." Her mouth closed slowly, and she looked away from him. "You haven't noticed how I go to meetings almost every day? Link, I feel like I'm dying over here, and all I've needed was for you to be there for me." She took a breath before looking up at him, his gaze cold and his face hard.

"I don't hate you, Amelia."

"Then why the hell would you propose to me, at my sister's wedding, in front of the kids, when we haven't been talking about marriage. You stopped checking in, Link; you stopped giving me space to talk to you about things."

"I thought you wanted it. When Owen proposed to Teddy on Christmas, you looked happier than you had been in months; Amelia, I thought you were ignoring me because you wanted more. And you started working for longer and longer, and I didn't know what to do. How am I supposed to know what's going on if you don't even try to talk to me about it?" He had raised his hands as he spoke, and he now brought them down, sighing loudly. "Listen, I'm sorry. I did stop checking in, and I should've asked before I proposed; I just thought that-" He froze at the sound of the front door opening downstairs.

"It's Mer; she was only taking the kids out for an hour or so," Amelia spit into the sink again, wiping her mouth with a washcloth. "I can't fight right now, Link; I need time to think things through. I need to make sure that I'm okay."

"Amelia?" Meredith called out, and Amelia glanced up as her sister's footsteps approached the bathroom. "Can I come in? Scout just wants to be held, but I need to go ay down; I'm exhausted." She hesitantly moved towards the door, only opening it enough to take Scout from her sister's arms. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, go lay down," she began to shut the door before Meredith grabbed onto it and pushed it open, her eyes widening at the sight of Link against the wall.

"Oh, I'll leave you two-"

"We're not, god, Mer, just go." The bathroom door shut, and Amelia leaned back against it, Scout babbling in her arms as he tugged at the loose strands of her hair.

"Can I hold him?" She raised her eyebrows at Link. "I haven't gotten to see him in the past few days," Link muttered, walking towards them. "I've missed him."

"That's not my fault."

"I didn't say that, Amelia." He grinned at the boy, holding his arms out and happily taking Scout from her, the baby immediately settling comfortably in his father's arms. "Can I take you to a meeting or something? I'm not sure how to help."

She thought for a moment. The sight of her son so relaxed in his father's arms was both enraging and settling. He had been asking for his father ever since she arrived home from the wedding, and even though she knew he got over it the second she handed him a toy, it was relieving to see them interact so normally.

She didn't want to move on, find someone new and restart her family. But, she also wasn't quite ready to forgive Link.

"Amelia?"

"Yeah, a meeting would be good." He smiled for a moment, and Amelia almost did so herself as well. Link nodded, cringing slightly as Scout's hand slapped against his cheek.

"We should get going before this guy bruises my face," Link laughed, bringing Scout's hand up to his mouth and pretending like he was going to bite it. Scout shrieked happily, babbling nonsense as they headed down into the car, and he was placed into his car seat.

The car ride was silent and not the comfortable silence that Amelia was used to between them. She stared out the window, occasionally glancing back at her son, who had fallen asleep as soon as the car had started moving. She snapped forward as the car was put into park.

"Do you want me to come with or stay here?"

"Stay, I need to do this by myself," she murmured, opening the car door. "Thank you. For coming over, for bringing me here."

"Amelia, I'm always here to help, no matter what's going on. And, I'm sorry-"

"No, not right now." His lips pursed tightly, and he nodded. "Text me if he needs anything."

"I will." She stood in place for a moment, glancing between Link and Scout, breathing slowly.

"Alright. Bye, Link," Amelia whispered, waving to both of them in the car and shutting the door.

Maybe she was too optimistic for someone who had just been screaming twenty minutes ago, but part of her felt hopeful. The things that had weighed down on her for months were finally out in the open, and as she stepped towards the group of people, she finally allowed herself to smile.

[terminallydepraved]

Beyond the Pale (JayTim Vampire au)

Yo! My contribution to the @batsandbeasts Batman zine is now up on ao3 for your reading pleasure.

Read on ao3 here.

The sharp silhouette of Drake Manor against the pale, full moon cut a suitably somber visage against the autumn sky. A pervasive wind was blowing through the trees surrounding the overgrown ground, whispering like a poorly kept secret. Jason Todd lifted the collar of his coat out of habit, shielding the vulnerable flesh of his neck from its bite. He stared at the once-grand home while he let the wind claw and tug at his clothing as if in hope of beckoning him through the battered doors.

 In that regard, the wind seemed to be the most welcoming thing about the place. The windows had long been boarded up, the brick facade a patchwork of lichen and ivy so dried and desiccated that it looked black in the light of the moon. A once-impressive turret rose up to spear the bloated clouds overhead, appearing desperate in its struggle to stand straight while it slanted dangerously askew. Brittle, dead grass crunched beneath his heavy boots. No flowers grew in the planters by the wrapping porch. Only weeds that whispered alongside the breeze.

 If anything had lived here, it would have been decades ago. To an observant eye, that supposition would be the end of it. Drake Manor had been abandoned for years, the place left to rot and molder alongside the family that had owned it up until tragedy took them from splendor to the sepulchre nestled just behind the building’s sprawling expanse.

 “The whole family passed one by one,” echoed the memory of that old woman’s voice in the lilting chill on the wind. “It was… sudden. First the mother. Next, the father.”

 “And the son?” Jason had asked as he sharpened the stake by the hearth, staring at the small woman from across the tavern floor. She had kept her distance from him, like a rabbit smelling blood in the air. Everyone had. They might not have known they had a dead man walking among them, but something within them warned them of the danger of lingering too close to a Hunter seeking fresh prey.

 Wizened hands wound themselves with rosary beads. Jason’s eyes tracked them like pearls, reciting the words of her prayer silently out of a habit that hadn’t managed to die even after he had. Her eyes turned towards the rough wooden beams above their head. “We do not speak of it,” she said, talking to God more than the one that used to preach his word. “It is not the boy it once was.”

 No one would say what the boy was now, but that was fine. Jason had spent the bulk of his life—      both    lives—exterminating things better left unsaid. His hands roved over the holsters on his hips and the belt that held his stakes. Vials of holy water—freshly consecrated earlier that evening—studded the inside of his leather jacket. His shotgun was a reassuring weight between his shoulder blades. The small blade tucked inside his right boot pressed against his calve, more soothing than rumors could ever be.

 That woman had warned him to be careful; Jason had to think that the creature skulking away inside those dilapidated walls could use that warning more.

 The grass crunched beneath his boots as he moved towards the front door. In the dead of night the sound seemed deafening. Still, Jason didn’t try to muffle his approach. It already knew he was coming— in fact, it likely already knew he was here. A vampire couldn’t hope to steal six villagers from their beds and remain unnoticed in its lair. Humans were fragile, weak, and easily made victims to the shadows beyond the firelight— but that was where Hunters came in, evening out the playing field.

 Jason, for one, had long outgrown his fear of the dark.

 Pulling his shotgun over his head, Jason held it at the ready as he made his way up creaking, splintering steps, eyes narrowed for any sign of movement. He took care to keep his finger off the trigger; any other time he would prime himself to fire first and ask questions later, but the bodies of the stolen villagers hadn’t been found yet. Slim as it was, they could still be alive. He’d been trained too well to write off the possibility entirely, so his finger stayed flattened against the stock as he kicked down the front door with a resounding      bang!  

 The sound reverberated through the entry hall like a crack of thunder. Motes of dust rose in the air, stirring the spider webs hanging from the eaves and edges of practically every available surface. Jason resisted the urge to close his eyes as powdery flecks settled in his hair. It was quiet in the dead space, stagnant air heavy with the silence. Every step Jason took cut tracks into the layer of filth blanketing the wooden floor. If something had been in here, it hadn’t left a trail for him to follow. The dust was undisturbed as far as the eye could see.

 First course of business was to locate the missing villagers. They had been gone for at least a week, some of them closer to three. Vampires that took to creating larders tended to store their human pantry staples somewhere secure, contained, and without many options for escape. A place this big... no doubt it had a basement, maybe even a few cellars. He would need to find it before he went hunting for the vampire. Once the captives were out of the picture he’d be able to fight without holding back.

 Of course, that was all easier said than done. This place was enormous. Cavernous even, and Jason had spent a large part of his youth in a manor not that dissimilar from it. Maybe it was the lack of life in the place that made it seem so empty. The portraits on the walls had eyes, but their dead smiles were fixed in place, like spectral guides that escorted him through the halls. He paused outside a dark, rusted kitchen. Memories of his childhood flickered among the shadows.

 A board creaked behind him. Jason swiveled smoothly, body moving independent of thought. He pointed the barrel of his gun in the direction of a set of descending stairs just visible through a nearby doorway. His heart beat a little faster. That door had been closed a moment ago, hadn’t it?

 “Show yourself,” he called out. An old house like this would creak and groan naturally, but the timing was too perfect, too planned. Jason bared his teeth as he looked down the line of his gun. “I know you’re here. Stop hiding and let’s get this over with.”

 Another creak, this time further down the hall. Jason shifted without thinking, but this time he caught sight of movement just as it evaded his peripherals. A cold sweat began to bead on his forehead, the tiny hairs on his body rising in the wake of instinct telling him that he was sharing breathing space with a predator. It was in the area with him; of that there was no doubt. Hiding in the shadows and among the eaves above his head… Jason fought the urge to look up, knowing through experience that keeping his eyes forward gave him the best chance of reacting quickly when it inevitably came for his throat.

 Jason slowly backed into the kitchen, preferring a wider space for the fight that was soon to follow.

 “I’ve never met a hunter before,” a quiet, lilting voice remarked just as the silence began to weigh on Jason like lead. Again, he moved to face the direction of it, his shotgun slicing through the air with whisper. He found himself moving yet again though when that same voice spoke again from a different direction, “Are you truly as strong as the stories say?”

 “Stronger,” Jason grunted, knowing this game after playing it so many times. It would try to get close next, and he readied his finger on the trigger. “Even death didn’t stop me from killing your kind.”

 The words had barely left his mouth before the vampire made its move. Jason reacted with practiced grace, giving himself to his instincts as he twisted at the waist and fired at the pale blur rushing towards him through the kitchen doorway. The gunshot went off like a thunderclap, deafening in such a dead space. A spray of lead burst through a section of the door frame, ruining an enormous family portrait mounted in the hallway behind it.

 “Close,” an icy voice whispered in Jason’s ear. A pale hand wrapped around the smoking barrel. “But no cigar.”

 Jason recoiled, warning bells ringing like a cacophony of the damned inside his head as the gun was snatched free from his hands. He let it go without a fight—the creature could overpower him easily, so there was no point in wrestling for it—and darted back, hand reaching for a vial of holy water and lobbing it in the direction of the figure now standing in the middle of the manor’s kitchen.

 Jason’s eyes closed as the glass shattered; when he opened them again, the figure was gone, its voice still echoing around his head.

 The eaves. It’d gone for the eaves again, or maybe to the tops of the large shelves and cabinets scattered around the room’s upper edges. Jason scanned the ground for his gun, spotting it towards the door he had come through.

 “I know who you are, hunter,” the vampire crooned, smooth and melodic, the only warning Jason had before a pale hand descended from the dark to grab him from behind. Those lips met his ear once more as it hissed, “I know      every    trick in your arsenal.”

 White hot anger tore through Jason, overpowering the fear throbbing in his veins. “Oh yeah?” he spat, tearing free two more vials and crushing them in his bare hands. The glass tore through his palms, but that hardly mattered. Blood and holy water both sailed over his shoulders as he cast his hands back. The vampire let out a pained shriek, and the pressure on Jason’s back abated.

 The creature didn’t retreat far this time, giving him a chance to look, if only briefly, at his quarry. Even crumpled on the ground he could tell that the vampire was young and far more intelligent than the majority of the blood-starved prey he’d hunted in the past. Jason couldn’t look at him dead on for fear of being caught by that gaze, but what he glimpsed out of the corner of his eye was enough to tell him that the refined beauty spoken about in most vampire stories wasn’t a lie this time around, even with holy water burning black spots into his perfect, blood-flecked skin.

 That must be the boy. The woman from the tavern hadn’t spoken his name, but Jason had done his research, had seen that face staring back at him from the portrait sporting buckshot behind him. Timothy Jackson Drake, last of his line. He had been on the cusp of adulthood when he went missing, and it was clear now that he’d stayed there for decades after.

 Jason dove for his gun. Dust rose in the scramble, the vampire darting forward to cut him off. Inertia carried Jason forward as he committed to the move, his shoulder bearing the brunt of the impact as he slammed into the vampire and sent them both tumbling through the doorway and back into the hall. Sweat stung Jason’s eyes but he didn’t dare close them, not this close, not as he fought with every ounce of strength he had to pin the slighter body to the floor.

 “What did you do with them?!” Jason grunted, forcing his forearm against the vampire’s throat until there was no way for Drake to bite back. “Where the fuck did you put the villagers, Drake?!”

 Cold fingers wrapped around his arm, holding tight but not as tight as Jason knew he could. “You can call me Tim,” whispered the vampire through a smile. His eye teeth curved over his bottom lip, ruining whatever charm the expression might’ve held once upon a time. “Can I call you Jason?”

 Jason couldn’t smother his reaction, his shock. It widened his eyes, slackened his grip. Drake— Tim—      the vampire    took the chance it was, pushing hard and rolling them over, pinning Jason to the floor like a butterfly to tack board.

 He had to look at Tim now, and God, the stories had never been so true. Pale skin, startling blue eyes, and lips like roses, blood red and temptation incarnate. Those shy lips curled back into a revealing smile, but even that barely shattered the illusion. Jason shut his eyes as quickly as he could, scrambling for one of the stakes at his waist. He shoved upwards with every ounce of strength he had and barely,      barely    managed to roll them over.

 His elbow clipped a door frame, warning him too late that he should have aimed better. Jason lost hold of the vampire as they both tumbled ass-over-tea-kettle down a flight of rickety steps. The stake in his hand was lost along the way. Jason felt a few more splinter by the time he reached the floor.

 It wasn’t a graceful landing, and he knew without looking which of them would recover from it first. Jason hit the ground hard, his breathing rushing out of him upon impact. He forced himself to keep moving, rolling onto his knees as his hand reached for the knife he kept in his boot. The air was heavy and dank, his surroundings as black as pitch once the sound of a door slamming shut cut off the sliver of light just above his head. The dirt beneath his feet told him well enough that he had fallen into the manor’s lowest level, but without moonlight or a torch his options on finding his way back upstairs were worse than limited.

 “I waited for you, you know,” came that voice again. “Did you think it was strange how loudly that village called for you? I knew you would come, Jason. I know everything about you.”

 “You don’t know shit,” Jason snapped, swiping his knife into the empty air. The vampire was pitching his voice somehow, projecting the sound so it echoed all around him. Without light there was no way to tell where he actually was. A burst of paranoia had Jason twist on his heel, slicing wildly at the space behind his back. He met nothing but nothingness, and it pissed him off even more.

 “Jason Peter Todd,” recited Timothy Jackson Drake, last of his line. “Street rat turned hunter. Made apprentice to the best and fell victim to the worst.”

 Jesus Christ. “What the fuck do you want?” Jason snarled. He couldn’t smell any rot or blood, and this had to be the basement. Where were the villagers?

 “You said it yourself; death makes things stronger.” Something cold brushed Jason’s neck. Jason tried to lift his knife but a slender hand wrapped around his wrist, squeezing like a vice until he was forced to drop it. “I waited for you,” Tim whispered, soft hair and cold breath ghosting across Jason’s cheek. “I used to watch you, before. I watched you, and then you disappeared.”

 Right. Jason had died, slaughtered by that monster just to come back as one thanks to elements far beyond even his ken. The struggle had left his body, telling the logical part of his brain that Tim must be staring into his eyes right now, mesmerizing him through the darkness. He never should had let the vampire get close to him. He never should have come here alone.

 “The… villagers…” Jason forced himself to ask, even as his knees gave out beneath him. “What did… Where…?”

 When Tim laughed, it sounded like bells. “Back in their beds. I only needed a story to get you here. But that’s okay, isn’t it? You’re here, and you’re tired, aren’t you?” Jason felt an unnatural exhaustion begin to seep into his limbs in time with the lilting words. His eyelashes fluttered; he couldn’t seem to make his arms move. “Don’t you want to sleep now, Jason? You can sleep. I’ll watch after you.”

 That voice was just a whisper. Icy fingers ran through Jason’s hair. Lips as cold as death brushed his cheek tenderly as his body settled on the floor.

 “And don’t worry,” Tim breathed, those lips ghosting over his throat. “Even death didn’t stop me from wanting you.”

[lesdemonium]

romtober day 31: love confession with an audience

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2282 Summary: A tale of two hand-fasting ceremonies. One for Jaskier and Geralt, and one for everyone else.

AN: i just want to thank everyone who has read any of these fics! thank you for reading, thank you for your kudos, your comments, your reblogs, your everything. this was honestly exhausting and i don't think i'll ever do it again, but i don't think i've ever been so satisfied to finish a challenge before (maybe because i don't often finish challenges.... y'all are improving my work ethic by leaps and bounds let me TELL YOU).

this is technically a continuation of the bet but it also is easily a stand alone piece. reading the bet really just gives you maybe slightly more context for how dumb they are.

i'm gonna go take a quick nap before i start working on nano & gift exchange fics lmao.

read on ao3

Normally, Jaskier loved a party. He would take any excuse to dress up in all his finery, maybe play for his audience, and revel in the attention others bestowed upon him. And a party entirely about him? All the better. Jaskier was not ashamed to admit that he loved when others lavished attention on him, and he did not consider it a failing on his part. Who didn’t want to be noticed? Jaskier loved to be loved.

Geralt, however, did not. He was uncomfortable and prickly and often looked as if he wanted to be struck down by some force of nature right then and there. He could get by at a party if allowed to fade into the background and enjoy the food and wine, but being the center of attention was abhorrent to him. Jaskier didn’t blame him. So often, for Geralt, being the center of attention meant flattering idiot lords or treated as if he was an animal there for amusement. No, Geralt did not like parties.

A wedding for them, therefore, was not what either one of them particularly wanted. Geralt because he would be subject to scrutiny, and Jaskier because he wanted their wedding to be a happy memory for Geralt. Unfortunately, decorum demanded to be upheld.

 They were traveling. Jaskier wasn’t sure where they were, but it didn’t much matter. On the Path, forward seemed to be the only direction. They had just dispatched some monsters in some middle of nowhere town, and now they were about a two day’s ride from anywhere of note.

Jaskier could see the way Geralt’s shoulders relaxed. For a moment, Jaskier longed to touch him, then remembered with a start that he could, that he had permission now. He wrapped his arms under Geralt’s, pulling him into a hug, and pressed his face into Geralt’s shoulder blade. Geralt turned to press a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head. They stood there for a moment in their embrace, before Geralt disentangled himself to instead clasp Jaskier’s hand.

They continued on, nothing but them and Roach and the road for miles. The weather was beautiful, sunny and warm, and they were surrounded by wildflowers.

It did not take long, upon returning to Lettenhove, for Jaskier’s family to turn horrible. At first, they were restrained, and bestowed compliments upon the couple. Jaskier could see the fire burning behind their eyes. Their son? Marrying a Witcher? It was unheard of, unspeakable, surely it could not be so! And yet, here they were, and Jaskier showed no signs of letting up on what they were certain was a sick joke.

Jaskier stayed on guard at their polite, if terse, comments and questions about their travels. He was powerless to stop it once they really started in, though. He had prepared Geralt for this, but it still hurt to watch.

“But surely you won’t continue on your travels now that you’re married!”

“What sort of life is that for a Viscount? Really, Julian, we must ask you to reconsider. Stay in Lettenhove! We have a nice little estate you could take over…”

“You’ve killed people, haven’t you? That’s how you got the title of Butcher.”

“Don’t you find the bard thing a tad… overplayed? Really, that’s all well and good for young men with no other prospects. Haven’t you outgrown all that yet?”

“I mean no offense, Geralt, you seem lovely. But Julian, really. There are plenty of fine lords and ladies who would line up to be your partner! And far more agreeable!”

Jaskier cut off what he could, all the while holding Geralt’s hand and giving him tight-lipped smiles of what he hoped were reassurances. By the end, he was exhausted, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Geralt insisted he was fine. Jaskier spent the next morning recounting all the ways and reasons he loved Geralt, and loved their life together, anyway. Slowly, the tightness around Geralt’s eyes loosened.

They avoided Jaskier’s family as best they could.

 They stopped for lunch. Jaskier insisted they take their lunch to the wildflowers, and Geralt relented with an eyeroll and a fond smile. They ate in companionable silence as Jaskier leaned against Geralt. Overcome in the peacefulness of the moment, Geralt laid back in the flowers once he had finished eating. He dragged Jaskier down with him and Jaskier settled against his chest.

Geralt played with Jaskier’s hair and Jaskier fiddled aimlessly with Geralt’s shirt. They watched the clouds and Jaskier called out the shapes and figures he saw, while Geralt snorted unless he was particularly inspired to disagree with Jaskier.

“I love you,” Jaskier said, turning in Geralt’s arms to meet his eyes. He rested his forearms on Geralt’s chest, planted himself there, almost as if he expected Geralt to argue with him. It wasn’t the first time he had said the words aloud, but it felt different this time, somehow. “I love you more than I love being alive.”

Geralt snorted. “That’s not particularly romantic. I’ve already told you not to say you would die for me. This isn’t a far cry from that.”

Jaskier shook his head. He didn’t want a lecture about how reckless he was, not now (not ever, really). Instead, he wanted Geralt to see how serious he was. How mind-numbingly happy Geralt made him.

“I would live for you,” Jaskier said instead. “Sure, I would die for you, too. But I’d much rather live for you.”

Geralt was quiet for a long moment before he drew Jaskier in for a kiss. “Much better,” he said with a grin, and Jaskier laughed. “I would live for you, too.”

 Geralt looked out of place in his wedding attire. Jaskier thought he looked wonderful, covered in jewels and finery and bright blues. He did not, however, look much like he was comfortable. Geralt had little say in what he wore today, as Jaskier’s sisters had managed most of the preparations. They liked pretty, gaudy things, far more than even Jaskier did. As such, they had bedecked Geralt in an outfit that would have looked opulent on anyone else, but only looked suffocating on Geralt.

“I’d ask how eager you were to take that off, but as I’m sure your next step will be to burn your clothes rather than ravish me, I’d rather not know. Let me keep my narcissism,” Jaskier whispered to Geralt just before the ceremony.

For what it was worth, Geralt’s smile was genuine. The moment he turned to the hall they were about to have their handfasting ceremony in, however, his face grew tight. 

“I love you,” Jaskier reminded him, taking Geralt’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Curious. Jaskier had seen rings with the garment originally. Now not a single one graced the hand of his witcher.

“I love you,” Geralt repeated. 

He stroked his fingers along Jaskier’s cheekbone, stealing just another moment, before he offered his arm for Jaskier to take. It was time. There was plenty to be nervous about, but Jaskier wasn’t. This was simply a formality.

 “Marry me,” Jaskier said. He pressed a kiss to Geralt’s jaw to avoid his eye.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, taking Jaskier’s chin in his fingers and pulling him back up. It figured he wouldn’t let Jaskier hide. It was rude, though.

“Marry me,” Jaskier repeated, this time more firmly, and without wavering in his attention at all. A breath flew audibly out of Geralt’s nose. “I want you for all of my days, Geralt of Rivia, and then some. Marry me. Marry me. Marry me.”

Geralt’s fingers carded through Jaskier’s hair. Once, twice, three times, before Geralt pulled him back in for another kiss. Jaskier’s heart pounded away in his chest, so loudly he knew Geralt could hear it, too. He smoothed his hand over Geralt’s chest, and imagined that he could feel Geralt’s heart. He imagined it was beating faster, too.

“Yes,” Geralt answered against Jaskier’s lips.

 The ceremony was long and arduous. Somehow, it felt more like a business transaction, rather than the joining of two hearts. Jaskier went through the motions distantly, and would have felt guilty over it, if he didn’t know Geralt was doing the same thing.

Jaskier found he did not miss this. He did not miss being home, no matter how grand the rooms were, or how for the first time in ages he woke up without aches in his back. The food was delicious and hot every time, and he didn’t have to sing for enough coin to pay for it. For the first time in a long time, Jaskier was comfortable. He was not, however, happy. The Path called to him just as loudly as it called to Geralt, and he found himself comparing the grand estate his parents owned to the decrepit Kaer Morhen. Jaskier knew which one he considered home now, no matter how cold it was at night.

If he had never left, would he have been happy here? Would he have found romance in the words the officiant said? Would he have some pretty lady’s hand in his own, her head full of the same silly things that had always been in Jaskier’s?

Jaskier glanced at Geralt, and found him peeking back. They shared a small, secret smile, and Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s hand. Geralt squeezed back. No, he thought, decidedly. I would have been complacent. I never would have known there was more out there. He never would have found love, as he had with Geralt.

 “Geralt,” Jaskier said, stopping dead in his tracks. “Geralt, where are we?”

Geralt turned and eyed Jaskier curiously. He shrugged his shoulders. “About a two days ride from Carrera,” he answered.

Jaskier stared at him, then from the field of wildflowers around them. It had been two years since he had asked Geralt to marry him. Almost exactly two years. And here, they were, in the very same field as that day. The wildflowers were just as bright, just as beautiful, stretching as far as the eye could see. It was cloudier, today, and therefore a little darker. But still beautiful. Still perfect.

“Geralt, marry me,” Jaskier said.

 Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Jaskier, I already agreed to--”

“No, no,” Jaskier interrupted, waving dismissively at him. “Marry me now, Geralt. Here. Right now.”

It was a suggestion borne out of desperation. Jaskier had to send word to his family that he and Geralt were intending to marry, and they had insisted Geralt and Jaskier come to Lettenhove for the handfasting ceremony. It was going to be beautiful, resplendent, even. His entire family would be there, even the other witchers were invited. Jaskier had already implored them not to. It wasn’t a royal wedding, not by any means, but it was a noble wedding. It was going to be terrible.

But this. Right here, right now. This could be for them.

“Isn’t that what we’re going to Lettenhove for?” Geralt asked, confused. He crossed his arms.

Jaskier nodded. “We’ll hate it. It will be everything my family wants. It will be loud and long and proper and official. It won’t be about us at all.” He gestured broadly at the field. “But this. This could be our real story. This could be our real memory, to help us… survive Lettenhove and the duty there.” He stepped up to Geralt and took Geralt’s face in hand. “I would have you here, Geralt. As you are. As mine.”

Geralt searched his eyes for a moment, then nodded.

 Their hands were bound together. They proclaimed their love in front of a large, almost entirely captive audience. When the ceremony was completed, they were presented to the world together, and their audience applauded.

For the rest of the night, they fielded questions, comments both supportive and snide. They were prevailed upon to make speeches and dance and thank people they had never met before. Geralt insisted over and over, to everyone, that he loved Jaskier, and each time he sounded as if he meant it, and Jaskier squeezed his hand. Jaskier insisted the same back, and went on one tirade so long that word passed not to question Jaskier on the matter again.

 They found a ribbon in Roach’s saddlebag. They didn’t quite remember the words, the vows that were supposed to be made over their hands, but they made up their own. Tying their own hands wasn’t easy, but they did it together.

No one saw their ceremony aside from Roach. They interrupted each other, over and over, to laugh and kiss and declare their love. They set up their camp right there, and made love under the stars in the flowers. Jaskier didn’t think he had ever been this happy. He had a feeling he would be this happy for the rest of his life.

“I love you forever,” Jaskier whispered into Geralt’s hair, as Geralt rested his head on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Forever,” Geralt echoed, and pressed a kiss just over Jaskier’s heart.

 The evening was finally, finally winding down. Jaskier’s hand found Geralt’s as the guests began to bid them goodnight and a happy future. Some of them even meant it. Some of them were drunk enough to have some sincerity. Most were never going to welcome them, and that was fine by Jaskier.

He turned to look at Geralt, only to find him already staring. Their smiles matched and they shifted closer. They had survived. This night would soon only be a night. It would never be their wedding night.

“I love you forever,” Geralt whispered, leaning forward to say it into Jaskier’s ear and brush a kiss along the shell.

“Forever,” Jaskier echoed.

[zebrabaker]

Families Lost and Found; Part 2

SORRY!!! I got busy visiting family, and sort of forgot about this!!

By the time Marinette was out of the shower, she had come to a conclusion. She would keep Jason here at the penthouse under the pretense of him ‘recovering’ until she got a response from Auntie Talia. If she didn’t get a response in a week, she would send the man back to wherever he came from. If she did, and the man was trustworthy, she’d take him to the family compound at the outer edge of the city. The compound was a massive fenced in collection of housing, dedicated solely to keeping the younger members of the Family safe when they weren’t in school, and to house those who were…under Familial custody. Throwing on a pair of pajama shorts, a t-shirt, and her favorite fuzzy socks, Marinette wrapped her hair in a towel and sighed. What was she getting herself into?

Making her way back out to the living room, Marinette sighed when she saw Jason fast asleep on the couch again. There was a takeout container with traces of white sauce sitting on the table in front of him. From the looks of it, he had likely eaten and fallen fast asleep. If she let him sleep, he would wake up with a stomach ache, but if she woke him, he might try to attack her again. Then again, the threat of potential danger had never stopped her before. Shrugging, Marinette grabbed the trash and the container of her food and moved them to the kitchen, dropping the trash into the bin as she went past. With a sigh, Marinette stood at the back of the couch and reached out, preparing to shake Jason’s shoulder. His hand lashed out and grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip, making her yelp.

“So it wasn’t a dream.” He grumbled, sitting up and rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Nope!” Marinette chirped, tugging her wrist free of his hand. “You can crash later; we have a few things to deal with for now. We need to give you a background and a fake identity, and figure out why Auntie sent you to find me. C’mon, my office is this way. We can work on those documents, while I call someone to bring you a change of clothes and call for Doctor Yang. I never got a chance to check you for injuries, but you don’t seem to be in too much pain.” As she babbled (a nervous habit that she’d never outgrown) she led him to her home office, a large room with a bay of windows facing the Seine.

Jason paused at the doorway, assessing the room, probably looking for exits and possible weapons. Good, that was one point for him being who he said he was. The first thing the League trained into their recruits was an intense paranoia. Then again, he could be a spy from another Family. She’d need to keep an eye out; it wouldn’t be the first time one of them took a disliking to Mama’s method of mercy and kindness. With a sigh, Marinette settled into her office chair and clicked her computer on, before grabbing her phone from the charging dock.

“Aiya, who is it?” The voice on the other end answered after a few rings.

“An, it’s Eu-funh. I have someone from the League here, we need new clothes for him. I’ll text you his sizes. Put it all on the family expense card.”

“I understand. Your apartment or your home?”

“My apartment. He is still an unknown.”

“It will be done, princess. I’ll be less than an hour.”

“Good, see you then.” Hanging up, Marinette steepled her fingers and looked at Jason. “So, before I go to the trouble of making you an entirely new identity, who do you want to be?”

“Pardon?”

“What background do you want? I can make you the son of a rich CEO, or some random no one. I can make you a man with eight PHDs, or someone who barely graduated high school. So, what will it be?”

“Can I just be…average? If I’m gonna be working for you, I kinda need to be able to blend, don’t I?” Marinette smirked, full of teeth. For a moment, Jason was reminded of a shark.

“Excellent. We can give you a perfectly average GPA, some defense training, a false employment record at Family-owned businesses, and make you into the ultimate nobody.” Pulling up her digital contact book, Marinette quickly found the email of her preferred forger. True, they were an independent agent most of the time, but they were also incredible at what they did.  After firing off a quick email (encoded, of course) Marinette leaned back in her chair.

“So. What’s your story?” She asked, staring him down.

“I’m sorry, you have to reach level eight friendship to unlock my tragic backstory.” Jason snarked. Marinette smirked, trying not to laugh.

“Alrighty then. Guess I’ll start. I was a pretty normal kid, all things considered, until I was fifteen. I was being bullied by a girl in my class, some Italian brat. According to Family Laws, I couldn’t order a hit on anyone until I was eighteen, and I can’t order a hit on a child. So, instead, I got smart and asked my Mama for help. I hired some guys to infiltrate her apartment and plant bugs and speakers. I slowly started gathering intel on her, and eventually began to play sounds at night or when she was alone. After eight weeks, she had a psychotic break and was sent home to Italy to a mental institution. That was my first act as heiress to the Parisian Triad.” Jason sat there, processing, before letting out an impressed whistle.

“Well, I’m impressed. Personally, I would have just beat the shit out of her.”

“Eh. I had built the persona of a sweet, innocent girl. I also would likely have gotten caught, since I was still a total rooky.” Marinette shrugged.

“After that, I transferred to an elite private school with my cousin Bridgette, who you’ll probably meet soon, and my best friend Kagami. Attended that school until I graduated, and went to college for an associates degree in business. Currently, I’m going for a bachelor’s in Fashion Merchandising. I’ve lived in Paris most of my life, but I spend every Summer in China visiting family. Mind telling me where you’re from? Your French isn’t too bad, but you still have a faint American accent.”

“I’m from Jersey.” He eventually said, frowning. “I…I don’t remember where exactly.” His cheek twitched. He was lying to her. Marinette didn’t like lying, but sometimes people felt more comfortable with little white lies and half-truths.

“You know, I have family in New Jersey.” Marinette remarked, thinking of Damian. She was one of the few who knew where Damian was now, and who his father was. “A godson, in fact.” The computer dinged “I’ll have to see if you two would have ever crossed paths later. For now, we have a few identities to look through.”

@queen-in-a-flower-crown @goddessofthewestwind @tiny-goddess-of-chaos @marinettepotterandplagg @glasswolf @darkthunder1589 @abrx2002 @emotionalsupportginger

[worldwidemochiguy]

MFEEU! Second Generation Profiles 💕✨

↳ MFEEU! Tae Masterlist 

↳ Link to Yoongi’s MFEEU one shot and Hoseok’s 

↳ General Masterlist :)

The kids 

Jin

↳ No children (he’s happy being a godfather!!)

Yoongi

↳ Yoona 

Hoseok

↳ Seojoon 

Namjoon

↳ Namgyu 

Jimin

↳ Jihae 

↳ Jihyun

Taehyung

↳ Haneul 

↳ Haewon

Jungkook

↳ Minho

↳ Mina 

(wow i just realised i gave the rapline all one kid and the maknaes two kids huh)

When they’re born: 

first it’s Kim Haneul 

↳ the next year is Kim Namgyu and Park Jihae

↳ the next year is Park Jihyun and Jeon Minho

↳ the next year Jung Seojoon

↳ the next year Jeon Mina and Kim Haewon

↳ and five years after that... Min Yoona 

Profiles :)

Kim Haneul 

Tae and his wife’s first child

The eldest of all the mfeeu kids

Very protective of all her younger siblings, especially Haewon 

Minho has a crush on her for the loooongest time (she sees him as an annoying little brother) 

Abuses her privilege as the eldest to get all of her dongsaengs to do whatever she wants (apart from Jihae) 

She inherited her mother’s sincerity and tae’s determination 

Her and Namgyu are like the only responsible ones

Taehyung is very happy leaving the business in her hands once she’s old enough

As she grows older she realises the special feelings she’s always felt towards Jihae are different than how she cares for her sister

She loves Haewon of course, but with Jihae it’s different. She wants to always take care of her, spend every minute with her, kiss her. 

They start dating when Jihae turns 15. both Jimin and Jihyun tell her she better take care of Jihae or else. Haneul has no intention to do anything other than that.

Kim Namgyu

Namjoon and his darling’s first and only child

Strict with all of his dongsaengs but would let Mina get away with murder

He’d probably help her with it tbh

Haneul’s right hand man, slated to help her with the business once he’s older

He inherited his father’s intellect. He helps all his dongsaengs in their lil homeschool lessons and once he’s finished his work he’ll leave the classroom they have set up and go and sit with his father

(Namjoon is the softest dad ever oh my god 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺)

Namgyu has dimples that pop out every time Mina calls him ‘Namu’ 

Him and Minho have a brotherly relationship. He, along with Jihyun, help Minho to get over Haneul. 

He’s known that he loved Mina since she was 5 and he was 8, but of course he waited until she was 18 because of the age gap between them.

Mina had no such reservations. She asked him to date her when she was 14 and he had to gently turn her down because she was way too young to be dating a 17 year old. 

She would stubbornly ask him every year on her birthday if she was old enough to date him yet, and on her 18th birthday he finally answered with ‘yes’ and kissed her

That was probably the worst day of Jungkook’s life.

Park Jihae

Jimin and his girlfriend’s first child

Despite being one of the oldest, she is babied by the entire group, ESPECIALLY Haneul

She’s so soft like oml 🥺🥺🥺

she inherited her father’s stature so by the time they’re all teenagers she’s the most smol (along with Mina who’s only an inch taller than her)

(by the time Yoona reaches her teens she’s also taller than Jihae)

Jimin’s little princess

She barely leaves his lap for the first five years of her life

Shes so clingy as well 🥺🥺🥺

She follows Haneul around holding her hand bc she doesn’t want to get lost 

She really likes doing ballet. She tries to teach Haneul but they soon stop bc to put it lightly Haneul is hopeless

She is the softest big sister to Jihyun. 

The only time she gets mad at him is when he sometimes refuses to call her noona 

Once Mina and Haewon are born the trio has been completed

They are the unofficial maknaes of the group, along with Yoona who they treat like their own little dolly

They coordinate their clothes and everything. your squad wishes. 

She’s the most oblivious person though. she doesn’t even realise she’s in love w Haneul until her 15th birthday when Haneul kisses her. and then she’s like oh. oh.

they are the softest girlfriends ever bls i can’t 🥺🥺

Park Jihyun and Jeon Minho

Jimin’s second child and Jungkook’s first

I put them together bc they’re honestly inseparable 

They’re the troublemakers of the group, rivalled only by Mina and Haewon.

Jihyun was born two months before Minho, he insists that Minho calls him hyung

Minho refuses

Jihyun is the more responsible of the two, but barely. Namgyu’s kind of like their older brother, they both look up to him a lot. 

Seojoon is their dongsaeng who they lovingly bully

Minho has a massive crush on Haneul. 

He isn’t yandere for her, he just has a thing for noonas like father like son 

At one point he tries to have a rivalry with Jihae because Haneul likes her so much but it doesn’t work bc Jihae is so sweet she doesn’t even realise what he’s trying to do and also Jihyun is super protective of his older sister and he nips it in the bud

After that he resolves to get over Haneul because he doesn’t want anything to come in between him and Jihyun. 

Jihyun and Minho are definitely soulmates. Hoseok is convinced they will date at some point. There’s a betting pool which Jungkook refuses to enter bc he thinks its wrong to bet on his sons love life. Jimin on the other hand has lost almost a million won because he keeps betting that they’ll announce that they’re dating soon. 

Jung Seojoon

Hoseok’s pride and joy

He’s so similar to his daddy guys it’s adorable 🥺

He has so much energy all the time, it is common to see his little head popping over the edge of Hoseok’s desk as he jumps around the room

Namgyu loves him but he doesn’t understand him at all

Seojoon loves to play dress up with Mina, Haewon and Jihae

He is not trusted with Yoona bc, though his intentions are absolutely pure, she usually ends up crying 

Always breaking the rules. a loveable rascal we have here. 

He knows when to push boundaries but he’s largely well behaved bc his dad taught him well 🥰🥰 (unlike many of the other fathers who spoil their kids) 

Seojoon knew he loved Haewon since his fourth Christmas. Seojoon was hunting for the presents and when Haewon caught him, she joined him in searching instead of ratting him out.

From that moment on they were partners in crime. 

It was only inevitable they started dating, obvious to literally everyone except Taehyung who refused to believe his daughter was a rule breaker in any shape or form.

Jeon Mina and Kim Haewon

Jungkook’s and Tae’s youngest girls 🥺

I put them together for the same reason I put Jihyun and Minho together. They’re inseparable 

They were actually born within two days of each other. Haewon was born early and Tae always says it’s because she couldn’t wait to meet her best friend (besides him, of course)

Look Haewon even has his nose mole 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

They rival Jihyun and Minho in terms of general naughtiness 

Seojoon helps them out sometimes, and in that time Mina always giggles at how silly Seojoon and Haewon act around each other

but all Haewon as to do is mention Namgyu and Mina stops making fun of her and starts blushing

Haewon and Mina talk about Seojoon and Namgyu literally all the time

When they’re older they trick their parents saying that Haewon and Mina are hanging out together and Seojoon and Namgyu are hanging out together and then they swap

Namgyu would normally disapprove but it means he gets more time to spend with Mina so he’s not snitching 

Mina is sooo bitter when Haewon starts dating Seojoon bc Namgyu is apparently ‘too old’ for her so she can’t date yet

once Namgyu finally gives in on her 18th birthday and kisses her, she calls Haewon  up screaming with excitement (little does she know Namgyu at that moment is calling Haneul and freaking tf out)

when they get married to their boyfriends they have a joint wedding 🥰🥰 Namgyu was originally against it but Mina gave him her infamous doe eyes which she inherited from her father and he allowed it reluctantly

Min Yoona

Yoongi’s unplanned but very adored daughter

By the time she’s born, Yoongi is in his mid to late 30s

To be honest, Yoongi had been happy helping to raise his friends kids, i mean they were all practically his godchildren and there wasn’t a week where he wasn’t babysitting at least three of his friends children

But sometimes he would watch Tae teaching Haneul to dance standing on his toes, or see Hoseok playing hide and seek with Seojoon, and he would feel this strange ache in his heart

When they found out Yoongi’s wife was pregnant, they considered not going through with the pregnancy, but ultimately decided against it after one of the members let slip that Yoongi’s wife was pregnant and then all of the kids ran up to Yoongi with eyes as big as dinner plates, asking eagerly if they were going to have another little sister. 

As soon as Yoongi saw Yoona for the first time, he realised how stupid he was for not wanting children earlier. but he was almost grateful that he hadn’t had them earlier, because if he had then they wouldn’t be Yoona. And Yoona is perfect.

She’s babied by the entire group. Mina and Haewon are only five when she’s born and they love playing with her. She’s never left alone for a moment —  like Yoongi feared she would be since all of the other kids were so close in age and Yoona was so much younger. 

All of the children want their chance to play with Yoona and even the members love being able to play with a baby again after their children had outgrown it. 

If Yoona ever tries to start dating… oh boy. 

just to recap, the couples are...

↳ Kim Haneul and Park Jihae

↳ Kim Namgyu and Jeon Mina

↳ Jung Seojoon and Kim Haewon

[onewfantaesy]

Could you make minho meeting someone (doesn't have to be really-really dating). Could go fluff route like he meet someone from the past relationship that ended badly. She is so sweet with Taemin and Minho goes 'okey shes not that bad'. Or angsty route where someone introduced him to a super gorgeous person but she's so condescending to Taemin that Minho went 'girl, bye' in 2 seconds (To be continued)

(Continuing from the other ask) Or if you're not comfortable with those maybe about Minho lowkey wanting mini person when Key got Kai

Minho has dated a few people throughout Taemin’s life, but none of them are ever right for the little family Minho and Taemin have together. Some are too overly nice to Taemin (condescending), others are obviously not fond of him (“oh, you have a child?”), and Minho refuses to have a relationship with someone who won’t treat Taemin properly.

The first time Minho really was serious enough to let a woman meet his son, Taemin was about five. And she was sweet and nice and seemed okay, but something was off. They had dinner together, and Taemin was on his best behavior, and things went well enough. But Minho just couldn’t shake a feeling that something was wrong.

“Did you like Daddy’s friend?” Minho asks that night when he’s putting Taemin to bed.

“No.”

Taemin sounded so sure of himself. Hadn’t even really thought about it before he answered.

“Why not?”

Taemin only shrugs and clutches his favorite teddy bear.

“You can tell Daddy,” Minho says softly, sitting on the bed and playing with Taemin’s hair. “You won’t get in any trouble.”

“She was too nice,” Taemin whines, pressing himself close to Minho’s side. “And when she smiled at me it looked scary.”

“Her smile was scary?”

“Only when you weren’t lookin’.”

“Well if you don’t like her,” Minho says, “then Daddy won’t have dinner with her anymore.”

Taemin never had problems with Minho’s female friends or coworkers that he’d met. Never said they smiled scary or were too nice. If he didn’t get a good feeling from a date, then Minho was going to take it seriously.

But when Kai was born, Minho absolutely adored him. He loved being an uncle, he loved taking care of a baby and seeing how he grew in just those first few months. And he knew he wanted to be a father, that he was meant to raise a child, it was just part of him.

Then a few months later, Taemin is brought to the firehouse. And Minho is the one who first holds him, who promises the poor teenage girl who dropped him off that everything will be okay. And once he’s alone with the baby, once he looks into that sweet little face, he just knows Taemin is meant to be his child.

“It’s a sign,” he desperately tells Onew when he brings the baby inside. “Don’t you think?”

“I think you have baby fever because of Kibum’s new baby,” Onew says gently. “We need to get him to the hospital.”

“I want to adopt him,” Minho whispers, still checking over the baby, making sure he’s alright. “I think he’s meant to be mine.”

“You can talk to the social worker when we get to the hospital,” Onew says. “Come on, lets go.”

Minho stays and waits for the social worker. Onew stays with him. Changmin and Kibum have since been called in to cover for them at the station. It’s a difficult process, but Minho does eventually get to adopt him. Named him Taemin. And they were a perfect little family together.

“Are you sure about this?” Key asks once Minho brings baby Taemin home. He’s been helping Minho set up a nursery, and he’s currently holding a fussy Taemin and rocking him. “Babies aren’t always so cute and cuddly. They’re gross. They’re smelly little creatures. They puke on you all the time. Do you realize how often you’re going to be changing diapers? And you’re just one person.”

“I know it’s not all smiles and sunshine,” Minho says. “But I want a child. And Taemin needs me.”

“You know if you ever need any help,” Key says softly, “we’re just a call away.”

“I know.”

“Good,” Key says, handing Taemin over and going to grab a large bag. “So here are some of Kai’s clothes that he’s already outgrown. Look how cute these little onesies are, and these little socks, and he’s not even a year old yet and I already miss him being so small!”

“Can I expect a lifetime of hand-me-downs for my son now?”

“You absolutely can and it will be adorable.”

“They only have a six month age difference.”

“But Taemin is so tiny compared to Kai!”

“Well he was probably a premie! He’ll get bigger!”

“And until then, his favorite big cousin will share with him,” Key coos, rubbing a thumb over Taemin’s cheek. “Kai also wants to give a stuffed bear or three to his new favorite baby cousin.”

“Kai can’t even talk yet.”

“And yet he’s so smart and compassionate and perfect already.”

Taemin’s favorite teddy bear for years is actually a hand-me-down from Kai.

[katana-no-neko]

More of that Monarchy AU nobody asked for

Natsu groaned weakly as he leaned against the carriage window, looking a quite-unhealthy shade of green. Igneel just chuckled at his son's expense, patting a sympathetic hand on the boy's shoulder.  The king had had that same terrible motion sickness until he'd outgrown it in his mid-twenties. If Natsu was the same, he still had a good seven or eight years until then.

Hoping to provide some distraction, Igneel struck up a conversation.

"So Laxus is finally gettin' hitched."

Natsu grunted in response.

"I always thought he was far too brash to ever enchant a lady, and he was so stubborn as a teenager."

Natsu didn't say anything, only half-listening.

"And then when I met the Lady Mirajane? I thought she was still far too nice to ever have looked Laxus' way! But then I saw how he was with her, around her. Boy, it was like meeting a new man! I'd never seen him like that!"

"Mmhmm," Natsu replied.

"So..." Igneel continued. "What about you?"

Natsu hummed blearily. "What about me?"

"When are we gonna be planning a wedding for you?"

Natsu snorted. "It's gonna be a while."

"Awww, how come?" Igneel teased.

"I don't even have anyone to marry!"

Igneel laughed. "Yes, I suppose that's true. I fear my loud, obnoxious son will have an even tougher time catching a lady's eye than even Laxus!" he cried dramatically.

The comparison of him to Laxus ticked Natsu's nerves. "Oh please, I'm much more charming than that butthead!" he shouted before his stomach suddenly lurched.

"Whatever you say, Natsu," Igneel laughed.

oOo

Natsu sighed as he wandered around Fiore's capital city. There was nothing to do at the palace. They'd come a week early to help, per his mother's insistence, and everyone was busy with wedding preparations. Mirajane was constantly on a near rampage, and so he decided just to explore the city. He wasn't technically supposed to leave without guards, but since when did he follow the rules?

He'd spent a good chunk of time in Fiore, but not much in the Royal City, he realized. He was pretty much lost at this point, but he wasn't too worried. It should be easy enough to find his way back to the palace.

He turned another corner as he meandered the streets and ended up at some sort of square. There were a few people milling about, but it was somewhat quiet. In the center of the square was a fountain, gently spraying water into its pool. A crowd of children sat in front of it, listening quietly to a blonde woman sitting on the fountain.

Something about her fascinated him. She was beautiful, a trait Natsu rarely noticed about a person. Her voice sounded... Pretty to him, too, as she apparently read a story to the children. He watched her as intently as the kids did. Her eyes would light up at exciting parts of the story, she would lean real close to the crowd when something spooky was happening, and she talked in funny and unique voices for each of the characters.

This woman was special, and Natsu felt compelled to get to know her.

"-And they lived happily ever after. The end," she read as she closed the book. "Now, I believe it's time to go home, isn't it?"

"Oh please! One more story!" a little girl with pigtails cried, causing others to also shout out to share the sentiment.

The woman laughed and signaled for them to quiet down. "Now, now, I know some of you are gonna have to be back for supper soon! We can read more tomorrow, okay?"

There was a chorus of 'awww's, and Natsu watched as they started to begrudgingly leave. A few ran to her to get hugs, and Natsu found himself almost wishing he were that little boy with the messy blue hair she was currently hugging.

oOo

Lucy smiled as the children went on their merry way, leaving as some of their parents began calling from their doorsteps. She started packing up her books, placing them back in her basket. The pink-haired man was still lingering, acting as if he was going to leave, but didn't quite want to.

"It would be much easier to just say 'hello', you know," she teased, standing up and looking right at the man.

He flushed, apparently not realizing he'd been noticed. "I didn't want to bother you, you seemed busy."

Lucy chuckled lightly. "I'm not."

"Uh, 'Hello', then!"

The woman gave him a smile, and Natsu decided then and there that he wanted to see it more.

"Hello," she replied. "Was the story so enthralling to you?"

Natsu laughed, slightly nervous. "Well, something was enthralling," he mumbled. He'd never felt like this before! He'd interacted with the woman for only a short while and he was already beginning to be infatuated with her!

Perhaps she's a witch and she's enchanted you! His confused mind offered up as a ridiculous solution.

"So who are all those kids?" he asked, trying to strike up conversation before it was too late to talk to her.

She hummed as she idled with her basket. "Oh, they live in the neighborhood, for the most part. I try to read to them every day." She slowly began walking along the road out of the square, in a way that Natsu could tell he had permission to follow. "Some of them won't get exposure to books otherwise."

Natsu cocked his head in confusion. They turned a corner together, and the blonde returned a cheerful wave from an older woman standing in the doorway of a large building. Several children were clamboring inside, and it suddenly dawned on him.

"Orphans? They're orphans?" he asked the girl, turning back to her.

"Some of them. Not all.

Her face held an unreadable expression and Natsu really didn't know what to make of this situation.

"Why?"

She took a long breath before answering. "Like I said, the kids at the orphanage probably won't be read to otherwise. The director already works so hard to feed and clothe them all, so I help how I can."

"That's very kind of you," he responded. The woman shot him another smile.

They turned and came out of the narrow back road they'd been walking along and came to a much wider and louder part of the city. It was a market, one Natsu had been in not too long before coming across the lady and her reading. The busy hours for a produce market had long passed, however, and so the stalls were much more empty than when he'd been here.

"What are you doing now?" he blurted out, not wanting their conversation to lull, but feeling quite dumb after she looked at him with a smirk and he realized what he'd asked.

As silly a question, however, she answered him. "I'm getting groceries. I should've thought that would be obvious, Sir."

Natsu blushed lightly at her teasing. "Yes, well... I just thought I'd ask and be sure!"

"That's reasonable. It makes perfect sense. A fine excuse," she further teased with a smile, picking through a basket of apples for something decent left over from today's hustle.

"You know, something about ya just... Enchants me," he admitted. "Are ya sure you aren't a witch or something?" he laughed. Her hand was so close to his. He could feel the warmth from her fingers. It would be so easy to move that short inch and grasp it.

The woman giggled, and Natsu loved the sound. "Why? Scared I might turn you into a frog?"

"No," he answered, taking her hand.

Lucy smiled and flushed lightly at his sudden forwardness, but didn't remove her hand from his. "Well, I'm not a witch, no." This man enchanted her just as much as she apparently enchanted him. But... Her eyes flicked to the emblem on the chest of his shirt.

Natsu watched as the woman picked out a few pieces of fruit and vegetables and set them down on the salesman's booth. While the man calculated the cost, Lucy dug through her basket for her money. Natsu reached into his pocket for the bag of Fioran coin he'd been given and put it on the counter. "It's on me," he told the blonde.

She smiled to him again. "How chivalrous." Natsu noticed her eyes flick over his shoulder, but she was speaking again before he turned to look as well. "But I do believe it's time for you to go soon."

Natsu's eyes widened. "Go? Whad'ya mean 'go'?" He thought they'd been having a good time!

"Oh, I'm sure we'll meet again. I'd like to."

"But I don't even know your name! How can I find you!?"

The woman smiled as she took her hand from his and brought it up to his cheek. "Don't worry. I'm certain I'll be able to find you," she responded. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his other cheek, coloring them red. "Prince Natsu Dragneel."

Natsu was stunned as she leaned back, somewhat glad to see she was as affected by the sudden kiss as he was, her own face flushed pink.

"How-"

"PRINCE DRAGNEEL!" a number of guards cried as they finally spotted the runaway prince. Natsu turned to try and get them to go away, but they were quick to clamber around him and start to drag him back to the palace.

"You know you need an escort when you leave, Sire," one told him.

"Hey, wait!" he looked back to the cart where he'd been standing with the blonde, but she was gone now.

Natsu grumbled and complained, but stopped fighting as they went back to the castle.

oOo

"Dad," Natsu began as they sat down for a brief respite between helping set the castle up for the wedding, and supper.

"Hmm?" Igneel grumbled, close to nodding off.

"I think there's someone I really like."

Igneel popped an eye open and grinned when he saw the serious look on his son's face.

"Oh, reeaalyyyy!" He sat up and gave a strong pat to Natsu's back. "Tell me about her!"

"Well, she's from the city here," Natsu told his father. "I found her when I snuck out earlier, and, Dad, she's so nice! She was reading to kids, some of which were orphans, apparently, Just because she wanted to help out and make sure they got to see books!"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, and she's... She's just... She's so damn pretty, Dad, but pretty doesn't really give her credit! Her hair just- It shone in the sunlight and every time she smiled my heart skipped a beat and her eyes just sparkled every time I looked at them-"

Igneel chuckled, cutting Natsu's rambling off. "Yup, sounds like you've got a bona-fide crush on her," he commented, causing Natsu's cheeks to flush. "So, what's the dear lady's name?"

"Uh... I don't know."

Igneel blinked. "You- what?"

"I don't know her name. The guards came and found me before I could ask."

Igneel dropped his face into his palms and groaned. "Natsu, that's the first thing you do, is introduce yourselves! You're telling me you don't know her name, she doesn't know-"

"She does, actually," Natsu admitted. "Know my name. She figured out who I was and called me by my name right before we were separated."

Igneel chuckled again and shook his head. "So she's a clever one, too, eh?" Natsu nodded. "Well, at least she knows where you'll be if she decides she wants to see you again."

"Yeah... But I just really wanna see her now!" he groaned. "I wanna talk to her, learn more about her! I didn't get to be with her for long enough at all," he complained.

Igneel laughed, Natsu's words only further cementing the notion that his son was experiencing his first crush.

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 11/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Gold and Belle have a little moment.

Notes: Because I am me and I will write every possible version of this scene in every possible fic forever. Sorry this is so short. Christmas program at school and other activities limited my writing time so I had to bump some things to the next chapter. :( For the 31 Days prompt #12: tea

[AO3]

Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

“I told you so.”

Jefferson let out a withering sigh, and rolled his head back until he was looking up at the ceiling. “Who could have foreseen this turn of events.”

His flat voice made Gold frown. “You could be a little less disappointed that I’m not in pain.”

It had been two days since Jefferson had nagged Gold into agreeing to see Dr. Whale. While he was truly glad that his friend wasn’t in pain, and for the time being seemed not only well, but in a suspiciously good mood, he nevertheless felt that it was still prudent to see a physician. He said as much and received another scowl.

“Why would I bother with that?” Gold asked. Then he set his empty tea cup on its saucer and leaned back in his chair. “We agreed we’d give it a week, and in much less than that, I’m right as rain.”

He slapped his right leg as if to emphasize just how healed he was, and then stood up without the use of his cane. “See?”

Jefferson shook his head and moved the used tea cups onto the tray. The second cup he picked up had a tiny chip in the rim and he frowned at it. “What happened to this one?”

Gold’s face shifted strangely, and he looked away, towards the doors out to the garden. “Something must have fallen on it or something. Probably one of the kitchen staff being careless.”

Jefferson’s eyes narrowed, but he decided not to press the issue. “Right...”

“So,” he said a moment later. “I guess I’ll need to send word to Dr. Whale that we won’t be needing him until next month when this happens all over again.”

Gold turned around and huffed. “Jefferson, let’s -”

“All we are accomplishing, Cameron,” he interrupted, “is bidding our time. Your condition isn’t going to change, you know this, it’s the whole reason Lady Belle is even here!”

“Why is Belle here?”

Baeden’s voice made both men still for a long moment. Jefferson’s mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say, before he looked desperately at Gold, who looked like he was about to faint.

“You’re still sick, aren’t you,” the boy said. “You said you got better after you took the medicine in your tea.”

“Bae,” Gold started, “it’s alright, son. I’m not -”

“You lied!”

Bae’s face tensed and his eyes welled up, the tears spilling over as soon as he blinked. Gold went to him immediately, reaching out to hold him, but the young boy turned away and hurried back through the door. By the time Gold got there, his rapid footfalls could be heard at the far end of the corridor.

The library was Baeden’s favorite place to hide.

It was a dark, warm room that smelled of leather and paper, and had the perfect amount of nooks and crannies that a small child could tuck themselves into when they didn’t want to be noticed. The window seat was always cozy, even in the winter, and the leather sofa by the fireplace was big enough that his legs barely hung over the edge.

He pushed the door open slowly, and then closed it carefully, not wanting to slam it and alert his father or Jefferson to where he’d gone, though he doubted either of them were following. They knew he didn’t like to cry in front of anyone, and they usually let him sort himself out and calm down before they talked about whatever had happened. But this time he wasn’t sure that calming down or talking would help.

Papa had lied to him.

The one thing his father had always said if he had nothing else, he had his word, and so he must always be honest. If he was honest, and owned up to his mistakes, he didn’t get in trouble. Well, not too much trouble.

He knew Papa had been sick when he was little, but then he had gone to a doctor way far away on the other side of the kingdom, and when he came back he was all better. He had to take some medicine for a while, but he promised that everything would be alright. Except he hadn’t stopped taking the medicine, and Jefferson thought he should see a doctor again.

Bae sniffled and wandered over to flop down on the sofa, curling onto his side to stare at the fire.

“Are you alright?”

Belle’s soft voice made him sit up. He hadn’t noticed anyone else was in here, but he hadn’t actually looked around either.

“No,” he replied, rubbing his hand against his cheek.

Belle closed her book over her finger to mark her place, and climbed out of the window seat. She crossed the room to the sofa and sat down at the opposite end, giving the boy some space. “What’s wrong?”

He sniffled again and shook his head.

“You don’t want to tell me?” she asked carefully. He shook his head again, and she set her book aside. “That’s alright, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Bae turned around until he was facing her. His face hurt and his eyes stung, but he had calmed down significantly.

Belle raised one arm and gave him a small smile. “Hug?”

Bae immediately slid across the leather cushions to her side, sighing deeply as she wrapped her arm around him. He rested against her for a minute or so, and then sat up.

“Was it a thing or a person who upset you?”

He took a breath and said, “It was Papa and Jefferson.”

She frowned and took his hand. “Well, I’m sure they didn’t mean it. They both love you very much.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing at his eye, “but they lie and don’t tell me things.”

Belle bit her lip. “I’m sorry that happened. What didn’t they tell you?”

Bae wiggled a bit next to her and then leaned against her side again. “Papa isn’t feeling well, and he doesn’t want me to worry, but I’m not a baby!”

“No, you’re not,” she agreed.

The conviction in Bae’s voice made her take him at his word, but apart from whatever injury had given Gold his limp and the occasional pain in his leg, he appeared fine. He admitted to her that long trips and not being able to stretch his muscles made it worse, which she had seen with her own father as he aged, though Gold wasn’t nearly that old. But it made her wonder if there was more too it, and if that was part of why he didn’t seem to actually want a wife as a wife despite marrying her.

“How about...we go to the kitchen, and see if Ms. Potts has any of those little cakes left?”

Bae brightened a little at that, and she felt a wave of relief. For now, plying the boy with sweets was sufficient to distract him from his troubles, but she knew that eventually she’d have to figure out a better strategy than that, lest Gold start wondering why his son had outgrown all his clothes a season early.

“Can we have cocoa with them?’

Her eyes widened and she smiled. “Hot cocoa?” Bae nodded, and she laughed softly. “I think that is a fantastic idea!”

Dinner was an awkward but civil affair.

Neither Gold or Jefferson seemed to know to that Bae had talked to her, or that he had let slip something about Gold’s health, but she didn’t feel right bringing it up. She was afraid it would introduce more strife or cause a setback in the friendship she was building with Gold. It was, quite selfishly, the latter that held her back more than the former, for she couldn’t imagine father and son being at odds for very long. But Gold finding out that she had interfered could damage the tentative comfort they had between them, and she was loathe to return to the days of unsettling distance and discontent.

She retired to her room early, after a late even messenger arrived from Avonlea bearing her father’s seal. She had written him two letters in the weeks she had been at Thornhill, without a reply, and had begun to worry that there was a problem with the post. Sitting on the lounge by the fireplace, she read through her father’s words twice, frowning more and more as each line passed her eyes.

It wasn’t so much what he said as what he appeared not to say, and she had the unsettling sense that all was not well. She wasn’t sure if it was everything that had happened with Bae, and the possible mystery of Gold’s illness putting the thoughts in her head, but as she folded the letter closed the most powerful urge to welled up in her, urging her to return home. Gold had indicated he was more than agreeable to visiting Avonlea, but it had been barely a month since she had left.

A knock at her door startled Belle from her thoughts, and she quickly stored the letter in the table by her bed before opening it.

“Cameron.”

The name still felt odd on her tongue, but she was once again determined to get used to it.

“Belle,” he replied softly. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I - I wanted to thank you.”

Her head tilted. “You’re very welcome, but I’m afraid I know not what for.”

He smiled, and she stepped back, beckoning him into the room. It was the first time he’d been here since the night she arrived, and something about that made her take a steadying breath.

“I wanted to thank you for speaking with my son earlier.”

She frowned slightly. “Um...”

He waved a hand and gestured for her to sit, and they took up positions at opposite ends of the sofa. “We talked before he went to bed. I wanted to apologize to him, and he told me everything.”

Her hands curled over her skirt as she bit her lip. “Everything?”

Gold nodded. “That he was upset, that he went to the library, where he doesn’t think we know he hides, and that you calmed him down.”

“Oh,” she breathed, both relieved and confused that Bae had left out the part where he shared the news about Gold. “Please, don’t worry about it. It was nothing, really.”

“It was not nothing,” he insisted, reaching over to rest his hand on hers. “He likes and trusts you, and that is most certainly not nothing.”

She gave him a small smile, feeling the telltale sting of tears at the corners of her eyes, and stood up abruptly, turning away and she feigned a yawn. “I’m so sorry.”

Gold seemed to shake himself before rising as well. “Are you alright? Was your father well?”

Belle sighed. “I’m not sure.”

“How do you mean?”

She turned around and rubbed at her temple. The day and all her thoughts were weighing on her and if she didn’t get to bed soon she would likely end up with a mighty headache.

“Belle?” His soft voice coaxed her into replying.

“He didn’t say he was well,” she explained, though it sounded more ridiculous once she said it out loud. “He said everything except that, and it was just - oh, I’m being silly.”

His hand moved and found hers. “You’re not. If you feel unsettled about the matter, then you should find out for yourself whether all is well.” She frowned, and his mouth curved slightly. “You should visit.”

“I should?”

Gold smiled fully. “Maybe we all should.”

“We?”

He laughed and let go of her hand. “If you’d rather go along, that’s fine, I was only thinking that it would be good for Bae to get out for a bit before the heavy snows fall. His birthday is next week, but we could go the day after and still be back by the solstice.”

Belle’s mouth hung open for a moment before she snapped it shut and shook her head. “No, that’s - that sounds perfect. I shall write to him first thing in the morning and let him know.”

“Good,” he said, looking rather pleased. “Good.”

She watched him cross to the door, walking without any hint of a limp or aid of a cane, and wondered if Bae had fully understood what was being said.

Gold turned to face her and bowed at the waist. “Goodnight, Belle.”

She smiled and inclined her head in return. “Goodnight.”

[wolfalarik]

Control || Full Moon Solo #1

“Alarik, komm zurück!” The woman’s voice called out after him, as he giggled and turned left hiding behind the nearest building. His back was pressed up against the wood that made up the building and he brought a hand up to his mouth as he let out a few giggles so she wouldn’t hear him. It was his favorite game they played and it was their game. When Nicholas had outgrown this game a few years ago leaving it just for his mutter and him to play when his older brother was with his vater doing ‘big person stuff’. It wasn’t fair but his mutter promised him that one day he would be able to join them but for now it was just them, playing their game when the chores for the day was done. “oh wo oh wo kann mein kleiner wolf sein?” Another giggle left him before he jumped out from behind the building and let out a small playful roar. His mutter jumped and put a hand over her heart as if the small child had really scared her. It was also part of their game, he knew he didn’t scare her for real but one day he was going to! “Alairk,” she said smiling at her son before reaching out for his hand, the smile still on her face. Even at a young age, the boy knew that this mother’s smile was one of his favorite sights in the world. “Come along. Vater come home soon.” Her English was a bit rusty as the pack was learning it slowly before their big move in just a few weeks. The boy preferred his mother speaking the language she sang to him at night in, but he was also one of the ones that had to learn the new language, though he had picked it up faster than his mother had so far. 

“Mutter, do we really have to leave?” The boy asked as he held his mutter’s hand and let her lead him back through the village and to where their house was. Since Vater was the most important wolf of their pack, they had the biggest house in the village, which was something the young wolf was proud of. One day it was going to be his...okay it was supposed to be his brother’s but they were moving so it wouldn’t be any of theirs but he could imagine. Even at a young age he knew that one day he would come back and claim this land as his family’s, creating a new pack one where he could be the alpha instead of a nobody like Nicholas said he was. “I will miss my friends.” Glancing up at his mutter, he pouted some hoping that maybe if he looked sad enough that he could convince his mutter to convince his vater to let them stay in their family land. Where they are supposed to be. Catherine let out a small sigh, almost sad as she stopped their walk back to their house and bent down so her bright blue eyes could meet his hazel ones. Reaching forward he brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes and behind his ear. It must have come loose from their playing. “kleiner wolf,” little wolf was his nickname from her and only her, “we must go. We are no safe here. Vater will protect us across sea.” Her voice was calm and as smooth as the honey that he collected with his older brother sometimes from the bees in the woods. It wasn’t fair how she could make his worries disappear like that, but that was what mother’s were for, the little wolf just had no idea yet. “You friends come with as well.” She said with a smile on her face and the boy broke out into a big grin. “Really!?” He asked all excitedly, causing his mutter to chuckle and nod her head. Okay so maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. If his friends were going, maybe he could go with...but he was still going to come back when he was all grown up. That was already decided. 

Leaning forward,  she kissed his forehead and rested her lips there as she took in the moment, just two the two of them. Whispering so soft he could almost not even hear it she said  “Ich liebe dich, mein kleiner wolf.” --------------------------- Stepping off the ship he looked around and rolled his shoulders and inhaled the fresh air. He never got used to spending that much time on a ship and was starting to get sick of them. “Welcome to Havanna,” he muttered to himself before slinging the stachel that held his things over his shoulder and continued into the city. He hadn’t been to the city before, having island hopped over the years never finding a reason to go to the city until now. Keeping his head down he moved through the city with ease trying to blend in as he looked for what he needed. For who he needed. A wind shifted and a scent caught his nose, causing him to glance up as he recognized the smell. He didn’t know it personally but he know that it was who he was looking for. The lead he had gotten warned him about that. Moving through the city he eventually found his way towards the outskirts where it started to get darker and a bit more dangerous to those who couldn’t protect themselves. “Care for a drink, sir?” A girl called out to him and he shook his head, not even sparing her a glance. A drink was never just a drink for a girl who was dressed like that and normally he wouldn’t be opposed to taking up on her offer, buying her company for the night but tonight wasn’t a normal night. He shouldn’t even be out but he had only a few more hours before the moon was going to make its way into the sky and he had to be out of the streets by then. His body was already screaming at him, making him feel like an imposter in his own skin. Turning a few more corners and he was finally there. With a heavy exhale he reached up and knocked on the door waiting for a response. The woman who answered was darker skinned, her hair wrapped up in a colorful cloth but it was her eyes that caught his attention. They were bright orange. He was used to abnormal eye colors; his mother’s was a bright blue and his own were a yellow when he embraced the animal inside him, but he had never seen bright orange ones before. It almost made him a bit uncomfortable with the way she scanned over him, her eyes lingering a bit longer on the ring that now sat on his left hand. The jewel shining bright already as if it was begging to be seen. “You are here.” She said before opening the door for him to enter the house and headed into the kitchen not even looking to see if he would follow her. She already knew that he would. “Excuse me?” He asked confused but still ever polite. His mother would be proud of him for that...not much else she could be proud of him for anymore, sadly. Glancing around he took in the small house trying to figure out what he was getting himself into fully. She was the only one who could help him apparently according to his lead. Even if she had what seemed like a two headed snake floating in a jar… “I saw you come here. Took you long enough. Sit.” She demanded pointing to the chair by the fire. Not wanting to piss off someone who apparently had a lot of magic, he did what he was told and folded his hands in his lap just waiting. “You came to get a cure, no?” Staying silent he nodded his head to her question. “There is no cure.” His heart broke in his chest. Fuck. “However I can help...for a price.” 

“Price? What price?” Though if this witch could do what she said she could, Alarik would give up whatever it took. She wanted a finger? She could have it. Gold? His first born son? All of it was hers. Once upon a time as a young child he loved what he was, had plans and dreams of embracing the animal inside him and becoming who he was supposed to be. Following in his father’s footsteps and his older brother’s being an alpha of his own, but that story didn’t have a happy ending. Not anymore and he was ready to leave it all behind. The witch’s lips turned into a smirk, revealing sharp teeth that almost looked sharper than his when he was in full wolf mode “A vial of your blood.” Oh well that was easy enough. Shrugging his shoulder he held out his arm ready to give it up. “Eager are we?” She said laughing moving to grab a knife. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore...I don’t want to be this anymore…” He explained closing his eyes as she cut into his palm and turning his hand over so it could drip into the bottle she had ready. “I don’t want the pain of a transition, I don’t want to be hindered by the moon and letting it decide what I do and don’t do...This isn’t who I am anymore.” There was silence as the witch grabbed a strip of cloth and wrapped it around his palm, setting the vial of blood to the side to mess with it later on when he was gone probably. He had no idea what she was going to use it for and honestly he didn’t care, though he probably should have been concerned… “Shirt off now.” With a nod of his head he lifted it up over his head ready for whatever next came. “I will place it here.” She said tapping his chest over his heart lightly. “It will not cure you...only stun the effects of the transition. It varies between wolf to wolf.” Alarik stayed silent as she explained, nodding his head signaling that he understood. “The spell is an old old one. It must happen under a full moon and can not be tampered with.” “Full moon? Tampered?” Alarik asked, brows creasing in worry now. Hold on he was going to have to shift for the tattoo to work? The witch just nodded and grabbed what appeared to be silver chains and began to wrap them around his wrists, causing him to let out a hiss of pain as it felt like his skin was now on fire. Cursing, he wiggled some but not trying to get free this time. It wasn’t his first time being chained with silver, it just was never something he was going to get used to or find pleasure in. “If something happens to the mark, if the skin is broken at all, the spell will fail and you will transform next full moon. That shift will be extremely painful, some have not even survived it because of the pain.” As she spoke she grabbed her needle and ink, moving closer to Alarik and the fire both. “Okay...make sense.” All that pent up shifting all coming out at once? Yeah that would fukcing hurt like a bitch. “So don’t get stabbed in the chest, eas--FUCK!” He cried out as soon as the needle hit his chest. Clenching his fist tightly so he didn’t move, he groaned with every poke on his chest that was made. As the witch worked at what felt like an agonizing pace she muttered under her breath a language he didn’t understand but he didn’t try to figure out what she was saying. He was more focused on not passing out. As she worked he could feel the moon rise high above them, feel the wolf try to climb out of him. Nails dug into the wooden arm of the chair, growing into claw like features. His teeth elongated into fangs and his eyes turned bright yellow. The hair on his arms started to grow where the chains weren’t lying and he could feel his body begin to thrash in the chair, his bones wanting to break and reheal in ways that turned him into the wolf he was every full moon. “I need you to stay still,” she said that fell deaf on his ears as he let out a scream of pain, his body not happy that he couldn’t shift. That he couldn’t give into what was in his blood. He had done this transition over a thousand times now and it never got any easier. It actually felt like it got worse the older he got. “I am almost done!” The witch called out but he wasn’t listening. All he could focus on was the wolf trying to get out of him, pissed off now. But then it stopped. He could feel the moment the last bit of ink hit his skin, causing the wolf inside him to fall silent for the first time in his life. Taking a shaky breath he tried to open his eyes but when he did, he turned his head and threw up at the feeling in his stomach. “That is a common reaction,” the witch said almost pleased. Mostly because her work was done now and that it had worked on him. “I will get you some water.” He didn’t hear as she stood up and left the room. All he could do was sit there, panting in his sweat, head lulled to the side as he took in the silence. His stomach was nauseous, his head felt like it was being split open and the new mark on his chest burned but it was worth it... there was no more wolf controlling him. 

For once in his life he was in control.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Secrets Of A Maknae

Super Junior Kim Heechul x SuJuMaknae!Reader Characters: Knowing Brothers Cast, Choi Minho, Jay Park Summary: You are the youngest, and only female member of Super Junior, and throughout the span your groups hiatus, became a popular drama star. Today, you, along with Choi Minho and Jay Park, were invited to guest on Knowing Brothers, much to the surprise of Heechul. Word Count: almost 3k Warnings: Teasing, fluff, etc.

A/N: I just love knowing brothers and heechul so much okay. Also I skipped the spellproofing because I reaaaaly just want to post this

GIF IS NOT MINE

 "Aneoyong," Minho spoke confidently, placing his hands in his front pockets, after ripping the door open, stepping into the set like it was nobody's business.

"Ya!" Heechul said in a scolding tone. "Are you a thug?"

Suddenly, Jay entered with small and amused smirk on his face. Immediately, Heechul scoffed and went Ahhhhh, "Now that's a thug." making everyone in the room, his co-hosts especially, burst into laughter.

Minho chuckled as he made his way to the desk in front of the classroom with Jay. Meanwhile, in the background, the set door that was wide open was hastily closed by a staff member. "Hyung, I have a surprise for you."

"Mwo?" Heechul cocked his head to the side, "are you two going to recruit me?" he turned away and sucked in his breath, "No thanks."

Hodong laughed loudly at that as the rest gave out an amused sound.

That was my cue to knock.

With one final huff, I pulled the door open and hopped into the room with a small, nervous giggle as a greeting. "Yeobosayo."

The moment I stepped in, Heechul shot off his seat, brows high, mouth O-shaped. "JAGIYAAAA!!!" he shouted and ran towards me.

As quickly as he had sprang off, he sealed me in his arms. With a joyful laugh, I reciprocated and cooed, "Aigoo, aga. Did you miss me?" He did not reply and only pulled me even closer, stroking my hair.

It was nice to be in this man's arms again, and though I knew this was kind of over-kill since we were still recording, I couldn't really blame him for hugging me as long as he was, because I have been away from Super Junior for quite a while now.

For most part, everyone on set let us have our moment, until that long moment passed, and the hosts and guests started to stir again.

"Ya, hyung," Minho called with a soft chuckle, "let her go, she has to breathe!" he pointed and placed a hand on Heechul's shoulder, only to get side kicked away.

This caused a loud roar of laughter to ensue.

With the constricted view I had, and the knowledge of Minho's quick reflexes, it didn't really surprise me that the SHINee member dodged his sunbae’s sloppy kick.

"Yah, this is too much," Minho noted, cocking his head to the side and pouting in disapproval.

"Ya, Heechul is really going for it," Jang-hoon said to Sangmin beside him, making Soogeun laugh out a "Ya!" in hopes we two broke away.

 After a few more moments, I was the one who broke the embrace, knowing full well this was not going to end if I didn't. Before completely doing so, however, I cupped his face and gave him a peck on the cheek before rubbing his skin with my thumbs.

To all but the three of us from SM Entertainment, the display was extremely controversial.

“Ya... isn’t this supposed to be Korea?“ Jay spoke in surprise, eyes wide.

"YA MWO YA!?" Hodong shouted at the top of his lungs "Ya! Is this your public debut?" Soogeun asked with a slackened jaw before turning between all those gaping along with him.

Though Heechul was holding back a laugh and turned fairly pink as he went off to his chair, I knit my brows and walked towards Minho and Jay, "Have I really been gone that long?" I turned to the men in their seats, "I've always been like this."

To prove a point, I turned to first Minho, slapped my hands on either of his cheeks, then got to tips of my toes as I pulled his forehead to my lips. I then proceeded to do the same to Jay, minus the tip-toeing because, well, he wasn't really that tall.

Jay then pulled away, lips pursed in disbelief, looking at the camera for an explanation of sorts. Eventually, he just burst out laughing.

“Mwo ya, oppa?“ I scowled at Jay, “why are you making such a big deal out of this.

 "Ya! Don't tell them you do this with everyone, because I won't feel special if you do!" Heechul pointed and slightly scoffed as the rest of the hosts sat surprised at my actions.

“Ani, ani. It’s just that we haven’t hung out in a while and I though you’ve outgrown that habit.” Jay defended and waved his hand side to side.

“Alright, I’ll stop being sweet to you then.” I pushed out, flipping the hair on my shoulder that was by his side to my back.

Jay looked deflated and the rest gave a laugh.

Hodong called my name loudly, “Are you really like this to everyone?”

I hummed, “Well, not to everyone per se, just to those I am close with.”

There was then a chorus of ahhhs.

“How close do you have to be?“ Yeong-cheol asked.

“Uhh, I have to be familiar with them, like...” I trailed off.

“You have to have seen them in their underwear,” Minho offered. As the rest of them burst into laughter, I snapped at him and hit him on the shoulder.

I nodded in disapproval, “I don’t know, I guess it’ll just feel normal, y’know.”

“Okay, so if it were me, how long would it take before you kiss me on the--” SMACK. Heechul cut Yeong-cheol off before he could finish. “GAESAEKKI-YA!” son-of-bitch

The rest of the room burst in to laughter.

“Araso, araso,” Minho waved off, “let’s move on and start shall we?“

It was Jay’s last question and so far, we didn’t have much of an answer to it.

Jay called my name and chuckled, “Ya, you should know this one, you do this a lot.”

“Neaga?” I pointed to myself in confusion.

Heechul, who I was sitting next to, then sprang up the chair and blurted, “AH! ALL WOMEN LIKE PUNCHING THEIR BOYFRIENDS!”

Jay pointed the toy hammer at him, “Correct.”

“Ya! What rubbish!” I shouted in protest as all the men in the room broke into laughter.

Jay laughed, “Well, based on my experience, no matter where the girl is from, Korea or America, they like to affectionately hit their partner.”

I scoffed, “Ani, girls just like hitting you.”

Kang Hodong laughed the loudest out of all after Jay reacted the way he did at my cold remark. I bubbled into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, let’s give Jay a round of applause,” Heechul spoke, clapping his hands, “for enduring the sass of our SUJU’s maknae.”

Then it was my turn.

I knowingly threw Heechul a look, immediately making him shrink into his chair. “Shiro!” he yelled, covering his ears, making me laugh.

Minho laughed from his seat in front, “Ya hyung, you’re in trouble.”

“Okay. As I am the only female in Super Junior, my oppas treat me a little differently than the other members. For the most part, they treat me like one of the guys, but there are certain things I can make them do that they won’t ever do for the other members. With that being said, everyone in Super Junior is actually really sweet, and believe it or not, Heechul is one of the sweetest.”

There was an eruption of gasps at my introduction.

“Kim Heehcul?“ Kyung-hoon pointed at the man in front of him and I agreed with a loud yes.

Heechul now burried his face in his hands as the rest bickered amongst themselves, in a debate as if all that I’ve said was a lie.

“YA!” I shouted, hitting the hammer on the desk several times. “My question for you is, what was the sweetest thing Heehcul did to me?“

Minho sprang out of his seat, “I got it,” he said with confidence, “this is a trick question.”

I groaned out a laugh and charged at the man, hitting him on the shoulder with the hammer.

“He introduced you to a rich guy.” Soogeun said, making me give off an annoyed sound, “Ani!”

Heechul turned to Soogeun with a look of disbelief, making him laugh. “Ya, look at his reaction.”

“Ya, this is really hard because Heechul is a psycho.” Jang-hoon muttered, making the rest laugh.

I knit my brows deeply, “I refuse to believe you haven’t once seen Heechul’s soft side.”

Heehcul held back a laugh, “Waaahh, I have never been so embarrassed.”

Jay laughed, “Look at how red his ears are.”

“I DON’T HAVE A SOFT SIDE!” Heechul resorted to screaming.

I chuckled, “I’ll give you a hint, it happened just after we debuted.”

“Hyung, do you even know what it is?“ MInho asked, making Heechul burst into a fit, “NO! THAT’S WHY I’M SWEATING SO MUCH!”

The entire room exploded into laughter.

Yeong-cheol stood from the back, “He used to walk you to your dorm every night.”

I cocked my head a that, “Hmmm, he did do that, but so did the others.”

“I GOT IT!” Sang-min shouted, “He used to buy you food at night.”

I pointed the hammer, “It’s close to that but no. Whenever I craved something, I’d go out with Siwon oppa.”

“YOU GO SHOPPING TOGETHER!” Jang-hoon shouted.

“Ani!” I nodded profusely in disagreement, “He’s really picky and impatient, especially when he’s not buying for himself.”

Heehcul broke into a loud laugh.

“He bought you underwear.” Jay chuckled out, making me double down into heavy laughter. Heehcul scream profanities at him.

“You know what, one time my mother sent me a package, and because she usually sent food, Yesung oppa and Sungmin oppa opened the box immediately after it arrived without me knowing. And there was all sorts of food inside, but my eomma also sent me some clothes and underwear.

“Sungmin oppa was wearing one bra as a helmet, and was trying another on while Yesung oppa was flinging a bright red one around like a cowboy and laughing at Sungmin oppa for not knowing how to put a bra on. I caught them by the time Yesung oppa tried to help Sungmin oppa put the bra on.”

Heechul was already cracking up at the memory and Minho was cracking up because of him.

I rubbed my nape and make a crunching sound, “Ya, seeing them made me really angry, but it only lasted five seconds because the look on their faces were priceless.”

Heechul pointed at me and agreed with a big smile. We then proceeded to copy them like it was nobody’s business, painting a vivid picture of how surprised a double bra clad Sungmin was, and how caught of guard Yesung was at the shrillness of my scream.

“When I heard her scream, I thought there was a thief, so I ran out with a two hangers. I was so shocked to see her on the floor--- laughing.”

I laughed in recollection, hands falling on my knees.

“Honestly,” Heechul raised a hand, trying to stop me from further laughing, “it was a really scary moment. I thought something happened to you.”

Through tears of joy and a chorus of ahhs, mixed with some surprised violent reactions, I stood up and sighed. “I know.” I then slammed the hammer on the table, “Take note of this--” I motioned to Heechul who was sat back in his chair, “sweet Kim Heechul is a hint to my question.”

Janghoon stood up, “I got it, he saved you from a bad date.”

With a gasp, I pointed the toy hammer his way, “Close, close.”

“Ah,” Minho blurted, “He saved you from a fight.”

I jumped up and down, “YOU ARE SO CLOSE!” I squealed, “Who did he save me from?”

“Ya! This is probably made up! Look at Heechul’s face.” Soogeun laughed, pointing a finger at the clueless boy sitting in front.

Jay snuck a look and cocked his head to the side, “Mwo ya? How could you not know?”

“Heechul actually has a great memory,” Yeong-cheol added, making me chuckle.

“He has a knack for remembering rubbish.”

Minho lost his mind at my statement.

“But it really did happen?“ Sangmin asked. 

I immediately nodded. “I won’t ever lie to make anyone look good, even if they’re my sunbae.”

With that, everyone nodded firmly.

“Answer!” Kyung-hoon raised his hand and stood. “He--” he chuckled, “--he saved you from one of his ex-girlfriends.”

I pursed my lips and hit the table with a squeak, “Correct.”

There was a quite ruckus after that.

“WAH CHINCHA?” Heechul spoke, seemingly the most surprised.

I nodded, waited for them to quiet down, and then explained.

“Okay, so it was Heechul’s birthday at the time, and he made himself single for his birthday bash,” I snickered, making Heechul break down in laughter with a red face. “I always make time when it’s one of the member’s birthdays, so I can make them cake.”

Heechul and Minho nodded. “That’s true. She even made me a cake on my birthday.” the latter spoke.

“She made me a cupcake once“ Jay muttered, making Hodong who was next to him, slap his arm and shush him. “Clearly she doesn’t like you that much.”

Everyone on set burst into laughter as Jay hid his face in his arms, rested on the desk. 

“Ya!” I protested, “You know what, if you’re in town on your birthday, I’ll make you a two layered cake. I always end up making you cupcakes because our schedules always conflict and it’s easier to send a cupcake.”

“Now I perfectly understand why people like you so much.” Hodong spoke, crossing his arms.

I giggled, “If you want me to bake you a cake on your birthday too, just say so.”

Soogeon threw his head back in laughter, then stood up, walking towards me to shake my hand. “I respect anyone who can put Hodong in their place.”

“Anyway,” I cleared off. “At the time, Heechul had just broken up with his older girlfriend, and she came by at SM on his birthday.”

“How much older was she?“ Yeong-cheol asked.

“Uhhh, honestly, she looked ten years older than him.”

The room broke in laughter.

“Hyung, is this jogging your memory?“ Minho asked, making his hyung-nim nod is disapproval. “No, I just want to jump off a building now.”

I waved in disagreement, “YA! This story makes you look cool.”

Hodong agreed, “Yes, it’s no easy task to date someone ten years older than you.”

I wiped the tears of pure amusement out of the corner of my eyes. “OKAY! So at the time, I thought they were still dating and dared to greet her. I thought it would be proper to lead her off, since I was bringing Heechul the cake I made for him, and she was obviously here to see him.

‘Annyeonghasayeo,’” I bowed, “‘aren’t you Heechul oppa’s girlfriend?‘

Suddenly, she grunt like a bull then pushed my shoulder.

‘YA, ARE YOU THAT WENCH HE KEEPS CHOOSING OVER ME?‘” 

“CHAKAMAN, CHAKAMAN,” Soogeun blurted, “why did she say that?“ 

“Ahh, it was probably because whenever I called Heechul to hangout with me or help me with something,he’s always with his girlfriend, and he ends up ditiching her for me.” 

“Waaaah!”  Janghoon breathed out with a soft chuckle of disbelief. 

Heechul hid his face in his arms and I defended, “At that time, I was too scared to hangout with anyone else other than my members, and I was trying to be closer to him because he was who I was least close to during that time.” 

“Ahhh,” Sangmin nodded.

“I didn’t want us to be awkward, so I was really trying to put an effort.”

I continued, “So, at this point I’m walking back, and just scared because, “ I started counting on my fingers, “she looked like she was old as my mom,  she looked absolutely angry, and I felt that my cake was endanger.

Suddenly, she was all over me, shouting and pushing. I was hoping security would come, but someone better did instead.

‘YA! WHAT THE BLEEP!’” I spoke with an actual bleep sound, making everyone laugh. “Immediately, I just know it’s Heechul, but she doesn’t stop even after hearing that. She then pushes me so hard, that I fall back and drop the cake all over me.”

There are sighs all around, and it seems at this point, it seems, Heechul slightly remembers my story.

“After that, she mouths me off, and Heechul is running towards us.

‘Ya, who do you think you are? You’re no one to me now!’ Heechul screams at her, making my eyes pop out of my head. The woman is just as shocked. I was too stunned to move so Heehcul helped me up. Then SMACK, Heechul gets slapped so hard it actually bruised.”

Everyone’s jaws were hung low, and yet all Heechul could do was snicker and sigh in his chair.

“‘Ka. I know you’re seeing some other guy anyway.’  Heechul said to the woman, as he wiped the icing off my face.”

“Ya jjinja?“ Minho gasped.

I only laughed, “After that he was like, ‘don’t you dare lay a finger on her again,’ then pulled me away.”

As the rest gave off their own versions of a surprised sound, Heechul broke out in an obnoxious laugh, roasting himself by saying, “This is what I get for watching so many dramas.”

I chuckled, “After that he bought me to the bathroom and gave me the button up shirt he was wearing like a jacket. And can I just say, seeing it on me made me 100% sure he bought it at the women’s section.”

Everyone laughed at that..

“Waaaah, I never knew Heechul had a side like that.”  Hodong noted making me nod.

I nodded, “Yeah, he makes himself look like a psycho, but he’s actually all fluff underneath that.”

“Ugh! This is why I hate it when members come to the show,” Heehcul half laughed, half groaned, “My image is ruined now.”

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2019 - 5 (Fantasy)

Summary: lathbora viran - the longing for something you’ll never truly know. Cahel didn’t understand it before, but now in the dark of the night he feels it all too strongly. They talk about not knowing you need something until it’s gone, but what happens when you never had it in the first place?

---

“Quiet... I can see him.”

Nobody even breathed as they sat, waiting. A brook nearby bubbled and wind whipped softly through the trees as a large buck stopped to drink. It raised its massive head, large horns glinting in the light filtering through the trees. It was the first time it had stopped at all in nearly two days.

Slowly, an arrow slipped out of a quiver and notched into a waiting bow. Sinew stretched silently as its owner drew back, waiting. When the beast raised its head once more, the arrow release with a quiet hissing noise. It hit its mark, and the deer dropped like a stone, dead before it hit the ground. It was a clean kill.

“Perfect.”

Tamlen rose from his spot, bow still in his quiver. “You did it again, Cahel.”

Cahel was beaming as he stuck his head out of his hiding spot, the light catching the blue lines inked across his face for Mythal. “Wasn't about to let that one go, it'll feed us for ages! Besides, Ilen could use those horns for something.”

He put his bow back into his quiver and headed towards his prey. “Come on, help me get this thing ready so we can take it back to the clan.”

“And here I thought you told me whoever shoots it dresses it.” Tamlen was still smiling as he followed behind. “You're lucky you're cute, vhenan.”

And as he strode ahead to make it to the buck first, he lightly slapped Cahel's armored behind. That earned him a squeak and a blush as the successful hunter sped after his lover's laughter. This was why nobody let them on hunts together sometimes.

Luckily, nobody had seen them go off this time.

It didn't take them too long to get the deer ready for transport – after all, they were both skilled hunters who knew what they were doing. They soon had it all packed up and ready to go, with the antlers sticking out of Cahel's pack. What little they had left behind was their offering to both Andruil and the beasts of the forest. After all, they had to content with both: it was only right that they gave them a cut of their spoils.

“You couldn't have shot a smaller deer, could you?” Tamlen was already rubbing at a sore shoulder as they walked through the forest, following their mental path home. “Creators, this thing is heavy.”

Cahel chuckled at the display, forging ahead just a few more feet. “You know what they say about sons of Mythal, we don't go easy on anything.”

“I should've remembered that from bed last night, silly me.” He reached out to nudge his partner forward. “You're going to get it tonight.”

That's if he could keep up with that sore shoulder of his; Cahel knew plenty of ways to get the upper hand anyway, both in bed and in the ring. By the end of it, Tamlen would be begging for mercy either way. He was gorgeous when he begged, so that only made things even more fun. Now he had something else to look forward to, and he whistled an old tune under his breath as he walked.

After about an hour, they found their clan's statue of Fen'Harel, the one that they had once drawn on as children. Beyond that, just within eyesight, lay the aravels of clan Sabrae. Most of their fellow hunters were out, but other elves still milled about the camp doing their work. This made them pick up the pace as they closed the final stretch.

It was here they broke off, Tamlen to go deliver the meat, and Cahel to hand off some specific articles he had collected. He made a beeline for the aravel all the way in the back, the one that always set his teeth to twitching. Their Keeper's aravel was soaked in magic, and even though he wasn't a mage he could feel it. Damn thing practically dripped with it.

“You better not be doing anything stupid in there, ada, or Cherche will kill you.”

A head stuck its way out from the back, also with red hair and blue tattoos. Keeper Cahel Mahariel was starting to show signs of aging just from the extra white in his hair and how his steps were beginning to slow. Though at the moment, there was none of that. Magic always breathed life back into him.

“It's just some basic enchantments, da'len, nothing to get your sister in here on me.” He chuckled regardless. “Ooh, did you bring me a present from your hunt?”

Cahel the elder still had the voice of a child some days. His son shook his head as he dug into his pack. The deer liver and berries his father had requested a few days earlier were deposited on the small bench outside the aravel. What the man planned to do with them, he had no idea. It wasn't like he was a mage after all.

“Came off a huge buck, so I hope that does something extra.”

The older Cahel beamed as he came out from inside his aravel to collect them. On solid feet, the younger of the pair had finally outgrown his father. With similar tattoos and faces, they could have almost been twins. Of course, the clan's keeper had white in his hair, and his son wasn't all that fond of undercuts. Without those, and the fact one of them was able to keep a damn shirt on, some people might have had trouble telling them apart.

Ah, family was weird like that.

“I knew you could do it, da'len.” Elder Cahel reached out to ruffle his son's hair, getting a squawk from the young man in the process. “Oh, come on. You're never too old to be messed with by your father. Lighten up a little, you'll go gray before your time?”

The younger Cahel fixed his hair, but he smirked. “Oh, like you?”

“That came from your sister.” The keeper's cheeks still turned red as he bent to collect his packages. That was a point for his son. “Maybe you should go see her. She's been giving the young hunters a tough time again. They could probably use a friendly face.”

Knowing Cherche, she was probably trying to get them to become immune to low levels of poison; perish the thought. Cahel nodded as he left his father's aravel, walking through the busy camp to find his older sister. All the while, he had a spring to his step. It was a great day, they had food, and he had his evening pretty much planned out. Who could want more than that?

“Cahel-”

He could practically hear her vo-

“Wake up, Cahel.”

His eyes snapped open, showing the dark cloth ceiling of a human tent stretched above his head. Cahel slowly came to consciousness as he sat up, hair falling into his face. His mind was a fog as he glanced around.

Yep, definitely in a tent.

“What?”

Cherche's head was in front of him – she was looking into the tent. “It's your turn on watch.”

“Oh...” He shook his head, frowning. “Guess I forgot. Sorry about that.”

Cahel gathered his things quietly and crawled out of the tent. Outside it was quiet, with the only sound coming from the crackling campfire. There were a few other tents, containing the rest of his party. Right then, they were somewhere south in Ferelden, close to the remains of what had been Ostagar before the Blight had settled in. Just thinking about it made his body ache as he took his spot by the fire, dog in tow.

Just another night as a Grey Warden on watch.

“Wonder how Marethari is handling the clan going north...” He shook his head, frowning. It had been months since he had spoken with the keeper. For all he knew, they could have all died. “No... they're probably ok.”

It hurt, not knowing. He was already dealing with Tamlen's... disappearance. It hurt too much to call it anything else. Any other mishaps and his heart just might break it two. Of course, he may never find out with the Blight. He could die tomorrow and never know wiser.

And here he thought the Blight was supposed to bring people together.

“You should've seen the dream I had, boy.” He reached down, petting Tamlen the mabari's large head. “It had everyone in it. And I had vallaslin for once.”

He didn't have that while awake – Marethari had never let him take the hunt before his departure. He ha begged her for months, but her answer was always no or to deflect. Now he resented that she had; it was hard, being away from the clan without it.

“I saw my dad too... or at least I think it was him. Not that I know him or anything.” His shoulders sagged as emotions slowly crested, then crashed over him. Sure, he dreamed of home sometimes... but never like this. “Shit...”

Cahel was glad for the solitude of the night as tears welled in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. That brief moment in his dreams had been some of the happiest he had had in months. Now, in the dark of the night, he felt its absence more strongly than ever. The tears continued to roll down his cheeks as he stared into the fire, willing the night to hide them. In the morning, he might be red eyed, but nobody would be the wiser.

Whatever that dream had been, it was too much for him then. Whatever god had planted it in his brain had some explaining to do the next time he found time to pray. But that was then, and for the moment he was lost to tears and the aching pain in his chest.

So... this was lathbora viran, huh? Maybe the ancients had been on to something.

[dommomdeals-blog]

Christmás

Each year we spend more and more during the holidays. The month of December hits our wallets hard not only in the heating bills but also through parties, events, and of course the gifts. It seems the perfect time to start a 2019 resolution just a little early. A new blog on the art of thriftiness. Soon Christmás becomes Christmas again and our wallets fatten up instead of our waistlines. (results not guaranteed- those cookies will get ya Santa.)

This year we bought for 20 people. This includes all the trimmings for our preschooler who wholeheartedly believes in the magic of Santa. The total cost was just under $250. Here are are a few of my tips*

Combine Vacation Souvenirs and Gifting: Each year we go to a few new spots. This year was Florida and with a child this is almost a given that we spent a day at Disney. Every year part of our tradition is to get ornaments for each other and for our son. These often come from gift shops on our travels and this year is no different. the roughly $10 an ornament we spend allows us to have a memory to share and keep the house uncluttered. Plus it’s fantastic reminiscing while putting up the tree. If you have kids small memorable toys or clothing from your trips is another way to maximize. This year he is getting a monorail toy from Disney that plays to his love of trains and a memory of his mindblowing trip. I always enjoy the travel souvineer myself and have received ornaments and things from my family’s travels over the years. Thus if you see a scarf or a token that is perfect for so and so on your list you can pick it up and save it for this end of year madness. Which brings me to my next tip.

Buy Year Round: We buy on our trips but also through clearance sales and buy sell trade boards.(see below) By spending a little year round we end up getting the most bang for our buck. I keep a dresser in the basement to store the items I find. I will note though that I sometimes find I overbuy because of this so I end up selling a handfull of items at most at the end of the year at the same cost to me. This year’s examples include a Thomas Karaoke machine and a box of playdoh.

Shop clearance: This year we hit it big since Toys R US pranked us all with going out of business sales (They are bringing Geoffrey back if you haven’t heard) We looked for deals on the things you can’t often find 2nd hand or on sale. I.e. Lego, Thomas the train wooden trains, Coloring sheets, playdoh, and more. We spent about $30 here and I admit I over bought a bit, but because of the great deals I got I was able to resell the items on local BSTs for what I spent or more.Which would be the next tip.

Buy 2nd hand when you can: BSTs, Craigslist, Ebay etc. can allow you to get a wanted item for a fraction of the cost. This is something I do year round not only for Christmas and Birthday gifts but also for clothing and other needs (especially for the kids!) An example of such a find might be the Thomas puzzle from Ebay or the Paw Patrol toys in his stocking this year. I personally use the BSTs so much that I now admin a few. There are free groups as well which is where I sourced the items I filled both hubby and my stockings with. (Got to keep the magic alive folks) Then of course there are thrift stores which are fantastic for kids items or the random houseware item your MIL wants. Many items are donated still in original packaging unused! I can also promise you that kids care about the item not the package it comes in so it’s a great spot to update their wardrobe or find a gently used toy. My wonderful wool winter coat cost me $2 this year at the thrift! I personally like the local thrifts or Volunteers of America here. While you may not have a VOA there are often city/ state local stores like it. We personally find that some larger branded thrifts no longer compete in the pricing to the others nor do we feel the money is doing the most good in comparison. That’s a story for another day though. At the end of the day I always remind people to donate to charity where they wish and regard thrifts like you do any other business rather than a charity. The savvy shopper cares more about the benefit to them in this regard. Where are the best prices and selection?   

Bargain Stores: Outside the thrift store, (which is honestly where I shop most) the Dollar Tree, Five Below and I are the 3 shopeteers. These are the best spots for stocking stuffers. With young kids it’s even possible to get them items for under the tree. This year a few PJ Masks puzzles made their way under the tree as Five Below gets closeout deals on things. The Dollar store is great for things like close out books, washcloths that grow in water, treats, and more. They have character lines of most major kids shows that make it easy to fill a stocking and match your child’s interests. While on this topic this is also the best spot to get your gift wrapping. This year he has PJ Masks paper which is easily $3 to $6 in other stores. Reusing bags and tissues is always the way to go but also having a cheap source is handy. They will discount their paper the day after Christmas if you are like me and want a bigger discount. While I don’t shop them often myself I think it’s worth mentioning stores like TJ Maxx, Tuesday Morning, and Ollies. I suspect as he gets older I may end up at these spots more for their close out deals. Ollies had the remaining Toys R Us stock this year at steep discounts!

Black Friday: Lets get a few things out of the way. The only reason you should go out on Thanksgiving is because you haven’t had any other human interaction. I am 100% for companies moving back to 4,5,6 am Black Friday start times instead of starting some crazy hour on Thanksgiving. Now obviously I am talking shopping here in the States but for others I believe this is the equivalent of Boxing Day (Though I am all for some after Christmas shopping too.) A few tips to maximizing your deal. Shop Online- Most stores offer free shipping or they offer free in store pick up. It is also easier to Google the item and see who has the best deal. This is how I buy for most of the extended family. The best deals this year were a cardigan for my MIL and a set of monogrammed hand towels for my mother at Kohl's. Total cost for both was about $7 (originally $50.) I waited in no lines and was able to quickly pick up the items I ordered when the stores didn’t offer free shipping.

Get Crafting: What is your talent? I am definitely creative so there is always some sort of craft to be done. One that we do annually with our son is an ornament. We make one for each family so about 12 total. This year it was glitter glue (dollar tree) and Pine-cones to make Christmas trees. Age appropriate and cheap! I also bake lots of goodies so that there is enough to take a tin to each preschool teacher and some to fill whatever I find for the mailman (typically a thermal mug of some sort etc) using your creativity goes a long way in the savings game.

HAND ME DOWNS: My favorite. While we don’t really use this method yet ourselves (our son is the youngest of the cousins) we do benefit from it. Great example: Thomas Wooden railway (now known as Wood) is a timeless classic that many boys enjoy and that my son is obsessed with. Last year he received several special pieces of track and a few trains that were hand me downs. HE WAS THRILLED. The year before he received a hand me down Trackmaster set. I don’t think I can say it enough. KIDS DON’T NEED A PACKAGE!!!! This is a win win win because it costs you nothing, purges outgrown things out of the house, and the recipient gets a great gift! Which brings us to the next tip.

Santa Swap: I love this for so many reasons. 1- It costs me nothing. 2- It purges things before more stuff comes into the house. Here is how it works (there are several versions online) At the beginning of December I get a trash bag out. My son and I work together to fill a sack for Santa. We put these unwanted, outgrown but usable toys and clothing under the tree for his elf to pick up (no we aren’t a Elf on the Shelf family but there is a version of this if you are) I then host a meetup with other moms who bring their sacks and we swap stuff. Leftovers are donated to local charities who use the items for the less fortunate. This year Santa will be bringing him a Green Toys Fire truck which I got free from this type of swap. I also got the gifts for the cousins we don’t see often nor have a list for through this. I purged about 3 boxes this way and only brought in a handful of items. That is a mom win folks.

White Elephant: Have you thought about how hard it is to buy for Uncle so and so or even how hard it is to come up with a list for yourself? My husband’s family found the perfect solution years ago. Find like new items you aren’t using around the house and the adults can enjoy a fun game of White Elephant after the kids have opened their gifts. The game is a blast and we save on buying for about 5 people. This means that I can re-gift or purge and it costs me nothing! This is also great for work where I often re-gift something for our holiday exchange. There are many ways to play, a quick google search will give you tons of options. Another idea related to this is a Secret Santa. Everyone draws a name and you buy for that 1 person. A Secret Santa is a great way to cover lots of kids too by each child pulling a name. A friend does this so they buy 4 gifts and each of her 4 kids receive 1.

SELL: BSTs aren’t just for buying, it’s also a great way to purge and make a little cash for your holiday shopping! This year I brought in just under $100 from old housewares, clothing, and TOYS that we had outgrown or no longer used. That’s almost half of what we spent!!! I do sell year round as I purge and while I don’t keep track it brings in $15 to $100 a month for stuff I no longer need. It’s easier than a garage sale! Ebay, Poshmark, and other sites are also great for this.

So that’s our holiday saving habits. What things do you do to save?

*I do not own nor am I affiliated with any of the characters or companies mentioned in this post. None of these companies have sponsored or paid for this post. This is a personal post referencing companies I have personally used. This is not an advertisement or endorsement of any brand or company.

[laythornmuse]

Which Door?

Claire laid across the middle bench seat of her 2016 Chevy Suburban equipt with needles, thread, and a plan.

Her hair, captured in a hastily applied hair tie, curled around the head bands of her medical grade head lamp as she crawled forward on her belly and took hold of the offensive seatbelt buckle.

Enough was bloody damn well enough.

The afternoon’s plan had been simple enough: Take her two daughters shopping for school clothes while Jamie stayed home with their infant son. With only two store stops planned, and with only shoes and cardigans to buy, Claire had expect to spend no more than 2 hours away from their newborn. Her daughters, however, had different plans.

Claire chuckled darkly to herself as she threaded the needle and began her stitching, her eyes only flickering briefly as the overhead garage light turned on.

“Sweetheart?”

Claire’s brow twitched at Jamie’s voice, her lip quirking slightly as she thought to say something and then shut her mouth after a moment.

No. She wasn’t ready to be tranquil about the afternoon’s events. He could bloody sod off until she had this under control...

The passenger side door in front of her opened, and despite Jamie hunkering down in the door way until his nose was three inches away from hers, she refused to give in to his antics. Not yet.

“Christ, the belt buckle,” Jamie whispered, his brows drawn together in concentration. “Had I known you’d be performing such a perilous surgery, Sassenach, I would have wrapped your dinner for ye.”

Claire looked up at her husband, whose serious expression almost cracked her sour one...until she heard Faith shriek a room away.

“Murtagh’s watching them,” Jamie said, answering her frown and frustrated grunt, as she tied off her stitch.

“There. Now they’re both bloody easy buckles.”

“Claire,” Jamie prompted, meeting her gaze as he reached forward and turned off the bright lamp on her head. “This wasna about the buckle.”

“Can you please just let it be about the buckle for ten more minutes?” Claire sighed as she let her face press into the fabric of the seat, letting out a deep breath as his hand craddled her head and fingered her curls.

“If ye talk about it, yes.”

Since the girls had outgrown their boosters seats, the issue of the “easy” buckle was one that took much diplomacy, begging and pleading. Because of the way the middle bench seat folded, the left door buckle would often get caught closer to the fold, meaning the person sitting there had to finagle the clip more to successfully bucket themselves.

Thus, the right door easy buckle was born.

She and Jamie planned to fix the thing eventually, but with William’s impending and recent birth, the issue got pushed aside with all the other priorities like food, showers and sleep.

Until the fix occured, diplomacy prevailed.

Claire had stated the rules as they walked out the house: each child would alternate doors at each stop. Both girls had agreed with a nod until three stores and 5 stops later, the issue came to a head.

“Mama, I should have the easy buckle again because the last stop was so short.”

“What Faith?” The store was out of Bree’s shoe size and Claire and the clerk were both searching on their phones for the next outlet shop with the shoe in stock.

“The easy buckle! I should get it again because the last stop was just a two minute ride!”

“Faith, maybe if you ask Bree nicely she’ll let you...”

“Noooooooooo!!!!” Brianna howled, making her position on the matter well known.

“Brianna, don’t hunny...”

“Mame, the store at the mall has those shoes in stock for you.”

“Oh wonderful! Thank you so much!” Claire gathered the purchases and headed for the door, only looking behind her when she realized her daughters had come to an impasse.

“Girls come on!”

The two girls huffed but eventually Followed Claire to the car but didn’t move to enter.

“Which door?” Faith asked, her lip sticking out.

“Just get in on the left, Faith. This will be another quick trip too.”

“But she always gets her way! It’s not fair!” Faith screeched.

“This is the rule for today!” Bree screeched back.

“Well, I’m always nice to you! You could try it sometime!” And with that, Faith took off to the easy door with Bree following right behind her.

“NO! My door!” Bree screamed, now in the midst of a complete 6-year-old melt down.

“Stop it!!!”

Faith pushed her sister a touch too hard, something Faith had never done in all eight years of her life to any other child, and it almost ended catestrophically.

Bree had tumbled to the ground, right in the path of an oncoming car. Claire had raised her arms and run forward, and luckily, by the grace of good deeds, God, and some faiiry dust, the truck stopped in time.

All three of them shaken, Claire had angrily buckled both girls, now mute, into their seats, and proceeded home. The girls had silently proceeded into the house, awaiting their mother’s sentencing, not knowing they were sending their father in to take the brunt of the explosion.

Upon hearing that she had missed William’s feeding, Claire had immediately screamed at her husband, tore off into the garage and burst into tears before setting her mind to fix the belt. Her tears returned now as she finished her story.

“Do you think, maybe, you’re trying to do too much, Claire?”

Jamie had snaked his arm around her during the retelling and held her close as she sniffled into her shoulder.

“Oh...probably,” she sighed. “Why is this so much harder this time, starting again with William?”

“Because we aren’t the spring chicks we were at 24 when we had Faith. Because your a doctor now, and you miss your job despite pretending you aren’t checking your wee phone during feedings. Because...”

“Okay, okay,” she stopped him, but grinned now. “So. How do we make it better?”

“Well, I called Murtagh over for a reason, ye ken...”

*note: this is what we call a rough rough draft - see edits where Alex’s name has correctly been changed to William 🤣*

[greeneyedsnake]

Hello! I've seen loads of asks here about Daphne Greengrass,apparently she and Harry até being shipped a lot. Well,I think you made a wonderful job, since she doesn't appear in the books. I wanted to ask you what are your thoughts on the Greengrass sisters? You're an amazing writer! Have a lovely day!

Thank you! I don’t think I can take any credit for the shipping, though, since that’s happening entirely of its own accord...but I’m glad people like her!

As to the Greengrass sisters, oh gosh do I have thoughts! 

Okay, I’m going to put them under a cut because while I don’t think any of this technically counts as spoiler-territory, better safe than sorry right?

So first of all, this is my favorite Greengrass family headcanon I’ve ever seen. Much of my own Greengrass sisters headcanon stems from there, more or less. I mean it goes off on branches...but that’s where the roots started.

(Note that these are general canon headcanons that I hold for the Greengrass girls, and as such may not apply to the Green-Eyed Snake series...but for the most part, they do. For the most part, I’m using my general canon headcanons as my default for writing this AU, and only deviate when I think someone will specifically work better for this story. All talk about future events, however, should definitely not be taken as relevant to the Green-Eyed Snake universe, because I honestly don’t even know who’s going to live to the end of this story yet, let alone who’s going to end up with whom!)

So...my thoughts about the Greengrasses:

I see Daphne as being someone who was embarrassed by her family’s comparatively meager social standing and wealth (relative to the elite of pure-blood society), and who tried to hide it and compensate for it when she got to Hogwarts, and clung to girls like Pansy Parkinson as a shield even when they insulted or mocked her. She was someone who wanted out, who wanted to get away from Knockturn Alley and the apothecary and the very idea of working for a living. She wanted the dream of easy wealth and comfort and big sprawling manors with vaults full of jewels.

I see Astoria as being someone who never paid much attention to the so-called social stigma of being “in trade,” and who enjoyed playing with the plants and the growing and who never liked gossiping with the customers very much, but more because she’d rather leave her nose in her book than talk to them than because she was ashamed of her family’s situation. She didn’t mind living in Knockturn Alley or wearing her sister’s outgrown robes to school, and in fact made a deal with her parents that if she took hand-me-down robes she could use the money they saved there on her books and school instruments instead and get her better quality things than they’d otherwise have afforded.

I see Daphne as loving her little sister and wanting to look out for her, but also being convinced that she knows what’s best for Astoria, and trying to mold and shove her into being the type of girl she thinks they both ought to be -- gossipy social-climbers who care about how fashionable their robes are more than they do their grades -- and Astoria quietly resisting her sisters efforts, which puts a brief wedge between the girls in their adolescence because they don’t understand one another and neither wants to compromise; Daphne resents that Astoria doesn’t seem embarrassed by second-hand robes and shabby books, that she doesn’t try to hide their circumstances, resents that Astoria isn’t grateful to her for all her efforts moving them up the social ladder and won’t do anything to help. Astoria resents being told she has to act differently, resents being told that she ought to be ashamed of things she doesn’t care about, resents her sister bossing her around “for her own good” instead of getting to know her as she is.

I see Astoria as being the sort of girl who does not put up with that for very long, because while she at first valued her sister’s advice when she began her transition, it soon began to feel more confining and constricting than it did constructive, and there’s no wrong way to be a witch, thanks anyway Daphne.

I see the Greengrass parents as having met over plants: she liked herbology, and his parents had an apothecary, and they talked plants more than anything else and still argue about conflicting schools of thought on what to grow and how and what each plant should best be used for, etc. Financial and social strain has added weight to their marriage, especially since their children were born, and they aren’t the cheerfully and constantly arguing couple they once were -- but they don’t hate each other. They just always worked better as colleagues than as a couple, but by the time they figured that out it was too late, and now Mr. Greengrass maybe drinks a little more firewhiskey than he should because he feels ashamed for not being able to better provide for his family and recoup the lost family fortune, and Mrs. Greengrass yells at all of them more than she’d like to because she resents the fact that their situation never improved the way she expected it to...but they don’t hate each other. They just argue more about money than plants these days, which is much less pleasant and much less constructive, and they spend a lot of time in different bedrooms, and are too busy with the business to give their children as much attention as they say they would like to. Neither of them have ever found a long term side-affair; maybe they would both be happier if they did.

The sisters have some Chinese ancestry on the maternal side of the family, and their mother retains enough of her grandparents’ knowledge of Chinese magicks and herbology that she can use it to supplement her and her husband’s standard Hogwarts education, which has been a boon to the apothecary -- but still not as much of a financial success as she had hoped it would be. The British wizarding world is prejudiced against foreign magicks, after all, and so for every patron impressed with the novel and unique things offered at their apothecary, there are two more who turn their noses up at anything that has a tinge of “foreigness” to it, regardless of actual superiority or inferiority.

I see Daphne as being a little bit chubby all her life, with a round pale gold face and long thick black curls and a wide round nose and little round chin. She wishes she was tall and sleek, and occasionally tries really foolish diets in an attempt to get herself to look more like the witch she thinks she ought to be. Pretty, adorable, charming, cute, dainty -- those are all words that can easily be applied to Daphne. She doesn’t want those words: she wants lovely, she wants stunning, she wants elegant. Daphne’s biggest problem is always wanting what she doesn’t have. It drives her, needles at her, bleeds her. As she fills-out, ages, and lightens-up, she grows into her curves and if she ever let herself really own them she’d be a vivacious beauty, but Daphne will never be 100% comfortable with who she is.

I see Astoria as sharing the same plump proportions when she’s little, being a little bit chubbier and shorter even, but slimming out a bit as she gets older -- never to the point of being a girl that would be described as scrawny, but one who might be called delicate -- and being perfectly happy with her body, although she wouldn’t object to being a little bit taller if someone gave her the option. (Especially once she has to start craning her neck to look up at her son, as well as her husband and in-laws.) She has thick black curls too but as she gets older she tends to pull them back in simple ponytails and buns instead of the cascades of ribbons and headbands and twisted braids that her sister spends so much time on. Her complexion is a darker gold than Daphne’s because she spends more time in the greenhouses and thus picks up some sun, despite Daphne’s constant chiding to wear a hat or cast a sun-shielding charm on herself beforehand. She keeps her nails short for digging in the dirt and cleans them meticulously rather than varnishing them like Daphne.

Both girls favor cute, flowery, ruffled clothing, although as they age Daphne’s style grows more sleek while Astoria’s becomes more simple, but they both retain a very traditionally feminine aesthetic. Daphne wears more jewelry than Astoria does, but -- after her marriage, at least -- Astoria’s is higher quality.

Eventually Daphne grows out of being so concerned with appearances, with being who she should be and instead focusing on who she is, and in the end she marries a much subdued, slightly sullen, slightly gentler (but never gentle) Pansy Parkinson, which makes for some awkward family gatherings with the Malfoys. They give their daughter Daphne’s last name, because they want her to be spared Pansy’s minor but lingering infamy, and keep to themselves and their small social circle rather than striving for the prestige and influence that Daphne (and Pansy) always dreamed of having when they were young, and they’re happy enough...although they both still long for those old unattainable dreams.

Astoria and Draco never had much to do with one another growing up and only really start conversing over potions and plants in his seventh year and her fifth, which is a good thing because by then Draco has become much less of an arse when speaking to people, and if she had known him better earlier she probably would never have fallen in love with him later. They live an even more sedate and reclusive life than the Greengrass-Parkinsons, and they both prefer it that way, because Astoria was never an extrovert and Draco...well, he learned to dislike being in the center of attention. So they keep to themselves and dote on their son and try to find a balance between spoiling him and spoiling him rotten. Astoria and Lucius get along well enough through their bond over the gardens, because that was always Lucius’s hobby and he likes having a daughter-in-law who shares the interest, but she and Narcissa never really warm up to each other -- although Narcissa would murder anything that hurt Astoria because she makes her precious son happy, and she dotes on Scorpius as much as anyone; she just doesn’t care much for Astoria, personally. She’s too open-minded. But the little family is happy enough in the secluded, reclusive peace of their manor, safe from the dangers that almost destroyed them, and that’s as happily an ever-after as any of them can claim a right to having.

And fuck Cursed Child and it’s appalling, sexist, “we’re going to fridge a female character off-screen to give the male characters pain trope.” Astoria does not have some weird bloodline curse that kills her early, thank you very much.