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bookaddict24-7 · 2 years

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6 YA Books by Black Authors that I Saw On Bookstagram this Month!

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1. Your Corner Dark by Desmond Hall

Young Adult, Contemporary Fiction

“Things can change in a second: The second Frankie Green gets that scholarship letter, he has his ticket out of Jamaica. The second his longtime crush, Leah, asks him on a date, he’s in trouble. The second his father gets shot, suddenly nothing else matters. And the second Frankie joins his uncle’s gang in exchange for paying for his father’s medical bills, there’s no going back...or is there? As Frankie does things he never thought he’d be capable of, he’s forced to confront the truth of the family and future he was born into—and the ones he wants to build for himself.”

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2. Vinyl Moon by Mahogany L. Browne

Young Adult, Contemporary Fiction, Poetry

“When Darius told Angel he loved her, she believed him. But five weeks after the incident, Angel finds herself in Brooklyn, far from her family, from him, and from the California life she has known. Angel feels out of sync with her new neighborhood. At school, she can't shake the feeling everyone knows what happened--and how it was her fault. The only place that makes sense is Ms. G's class. There, Angel's classmates share their own stories of pain, joy, and fortitude. And as Angel becomes immersed in her revolutionary literature course, the words from novels like The Bluest Eye and Push speak to her and begin to heal the wounds of her past. This stunning novel weaves together prose, poems, and vignettes to tell the story of Angel, a young woman whose past was shaped by domestic violence but whose love of language and music and the gift of community grant her the chance to find herself again.”

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3. For All Time by Shanna Miles

Young Adult, Historical Fiction, Time Travel

“Tamar is a headstrong slave in Mali, a high school junior with a terminal illness on a last-chance trip, a young woman struggling for independence in a segregated train car steaming her toward an arranged marriage. She is a musician, a warrior, a survivor. Fayard is a soldier that must obey all the rules set before him, a charming high school senior who wishes to give his high school sweetheart a promise ring, a lost young man who runs numbers for King Fats in Chicago. He is a con man, a pioneer, a hopeless romantic. Together, Tamar and Fayard have lived a thousand lives, seen the world go through revolutions and civil wars, and have even watched humanity take to the stars. But in each life one thing remains the same: Tamar and Fayard fall in love. Tamar and Fayard fight to be with each other. Tamar and Fayard die. Over and over again until, perhaps at last, they learn what it will take to break the cycle.”

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4. And We Rise by Erica Martin

Young Adult, Social Justice, Poetry

“In stunning verse and vivid use of white space, Erica Martin’s debut poetry collection walks readers through the Civil Rights Movement—from the well-documented events that shaped the nation’s treatment of Black people, beginning with the “Separate but Equal” ruling—and introduces lesser-known figures and moments that were just as crucial to the Movement and our nation's centuries-long fight for justice and equality. A poignant, powerful, all-too-timely collection that is both a vital history lesson and much-needed conversation starter in our modern world. Complete with historical photographs, author’s note, chronology of events, research, and sources.”

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5. Kings of B’More by R. Eric Thomas

Young Adult, LGBTQ+, Contemporary Fiction

“With junior year starting in the fall, Harrison feels like he's on the precipice of, well, everything. Standardized testing, college, and the terrifying unknowns and looming pressures of adulthood after that--it's like the future wants to eat him alive. Which is why Harrison is grateful that he and his best friend Linus will face these things together. But at the end of a shift at their summer job, Linus invites Harrison to their special spot overlooking the city to deliver devastating news: he's moving out of state at the end of the week. To keep from completely losing it--and partially inspired by a cheesy movie-night pick by his Dad--Harrison plans a send-off à la Ferris Bueller's Day Off that's worthy of his favorite person. If they won't be having all the life-expanding experiences they thought they would, Harrison will squeeze them all into their last day. They end up on a mini road trip, their first Pride, and a rooftop dance party, all while keeping their respective parents, who track them on a family location app, off their trail. Harrison and Linus make a pact to do all the things--big and small--they've been too scared to do. But nothing feels scarier than saying goodbye to someone you love.”

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6. Juliet Takes A Breath by Gabby Rivera

Young Adult, LGBTQ+, Contemporary Fiction

“Juliet Milagros Palante is leaving the Bronx and headed to Portland, Oregon. She just came out to her family and isn’t sure if her mom will ever speak to her again. But Juliet has a plan, sort of, one that’s going to help her figure out this whole “Puerto Rican lesbian” thing. She’s interning with the author of her favorite book: Harlowe Brisbane, the ultimate authority on feminism, women’s bodies, and other gay-sounding stuff. Will Juliet be able to figure out her life over the course of one magical summer? Is that even possible? Or is she running away from all the problems that seem too big to handle? With more questions than answers, Juliet takes on Portland, Harlowe, and most importantly, herself.”

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Have you read any of these titles? Would you recommend them?

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Happy reading!

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slightlymore · 3 years

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¦ a doyoung collaboration ¦

¦ starting July 2021 ¦

OPEN TO READ AVAILABLE FICS BELOW!

MAD: let's pretend we're in love | @127-mile

genre: angst, unrequited love, best friends to strangers, fake dating

warnings: strong language

"doyoung is beautiful.

he is also kind, attentive, affectionate, smart and funny. he is charismatic and well-spoken. his voice could be mistaken with that of an angel, whether he is speaking or singing. doyoung is everyone’s dream, the one person you would not hesitate to introduce to your parents.

doyoung is also… mean.

doyoung has the face and the voice of an angel, in the body of a demon. doyoung tells his mother he is dating you after lying about his relationship. doyoung knows about your feelings,

but he doesn’t care."

BOY: 14 roses for you | @urlocalnctstan

N/A

ASHAMED: I want nothing on me but you | @slightlymore 50k

"how easy it is for another to kill you.

no force, no hands on the throat - just their mere presence suffocating you.

it was weird but you craved it.

as if you had a morbid attachment to death by his hand."

ADMIT: consider, if you will, our hearts on this road | @kyukyuhunnie

"If I can figure out how to write a paper about the Philippines in a class focused on the Holy Roman Empire, then I can figure out a way to teach you a semester's worth of knowledge in three weeks."

Doyoung looked at you, scepticism painted across his face, but nonetheless he slowly nodded. "If you think it's possible, then I'll trust you."

You smile in victory, a feeling of competitiveness suddenly arising in you. You pull the syllabus back towards you and look at the schedule of topics. Without looking at him, you say, "Pull out your textbook and turn to the fifth chapter." After a moment of not hearing movement, you look up at Doyoung whose ears were slowly turning a brighter red.

"I, uh, don't," he starts, fingers anxiously twirling the pen in his hands.

"Have the textbook," you finish, trying not to let out a sigh. "Go to Jaehyun at the desk; he can help you find it." Doyoung nods and heads away.

This was going to be much harder than you thought.

SLEEPLESS: cry for me | @babiesdreams 5.6k

genre: royal au, angst

warnings: death of a character, blood and mentions of violence, mental health issues

"what shall define a kingdom's faith?

if war brings hunger and death, illness and misery. and peace is meant for the weak ones... what is the real goal of a king?

is it power? trust? love? benevolence?

or is it all just an infinity war for a land of nobody, while people still die from hunger?

if a man cannot be trusted to make a simple task of protecting a kingdom, I shall do it instead"

MELTS: alone I cannot be | @sunflowerforhaechan

"he is your heart's desire, the light at the end of the tunnel, the missing puzzle piece.

so you give him a second chance.

because you're mad for the boy. and you love him—mind, body and soul."

genre: fluff, slight angst

FOOLISH: call me a fool | @soliverse 1.5k

warnings: one cuss word

"once doyoung calls, you’re ready to drop everything to be there for him.

pity that he only sees such efforts as a friendly gesture."

HEART: heartbreaker | @fullpoetrycowgirl

“you crossed paths with the one who ruined your only love”

ODD: bluest | @honeyedgloss 11k

"going to jaehyun's vacation home along with his other friends was supposed to be a formality. you wouldn't even have to make friends with any of them: in three weeks, you'd be back home and would never see them again.

what wasn't planned, was doyoung's appearance.

MISERY: F.U.C.K. | @moonctzeny

for the first time in your life, you manage to develop a friendship with someone you've just met - and for some reason, he seems to take pleasure in crushing your certainties: about yourself, the life you want to live, and your long-lasting love for jaehyun."

"if there was one person you’d imagine taking as a plus one to your cousin’s wedding, it definitely wouldn’t be doyoung - your definition of a sour know-it-all in flesh and bones. blame it on your friends that are never there when you need them, or your annoying curiosity for his cold demeanor, but there he is, downing expensive champagne with you.

one glass and you can still stand him.

two glasses and he’s not so bad after all.

three glasses and he’s in your bed.

does the boy drive you mad or are you mad about the boy?"

JOY: love you more | @notnctu

"doyoung has always been short with his words, oftentimes intimidating with his sharp chic stares and emptiness in his tone.

but his tough exterior melts away every time you smile at him and he wonders if you know the extent of how much he loves you."

previous: PRESENTATION POST

#collab: matb #mad about the boy #doyoung #nct

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licieoic · 4 years

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“Pour One Out” - Digital Oil Painting

Inspired by Suptober, theme: Pour One Out. Bartender/Patron AU! This one was actually inspired by a number of themes from Suptober including “Family Business” and “Favorite,” as shown in the ficlet below the cut. (It’s PG, though Dean is having some more adult oriented thoughts, LOL.)

Please see the pinned post at the top of my Tumblr for my links if you'd like to help support me in saving for a safe place to live!

“Hey.”

Looking up, Dean saw his brother, Sam, sticking his head into the brewing room. It had to be nearly time for his shift, he already had his abundant hair pulled back.

“Your favorite’s here,” he said.

Dean straightened up so fast, he nearly dropped the pitcher of beer he’d been pouring so carefully. “Trench Coat?” At least, that was the name he used with Sam; he didn’t want his brother knowing what he called the quiet man in his head. He’d never quite had the courage to ask the man’s actual name and since Winchester Bros was cash only, he couldn’t sneak a look at a credit card either. He’d considered asking for his ID, as that was perfectly acceptable in a bar, but since he was clearly over legal drinking age it would just make Dean look like he was stupid or an ass.

“Usual spot,” Sam answered before popping back into the main area of the bar.

He got up close to the shiny brewing vat in front of him and tried to check his appearance, but the metal didn’t make for a good mirror and left him looking deformed. Damn… He hoped there was nothing to worry about, like food in his teeth or crustiness in the corners of his green eyes, and that his light brown hair was just the right amount of tousled, leaning more toward ‘I woke up like this’ and less like ‘I use a lot of product.’ Then he reached into the pocket of his apron for the breath mint he always kept there, on the chance that his favorite patron would stop by.

It was easy to remember the first time he’d ever seen him, he doubted he would ever forget. Five months after he and Sam had opened the bar, they’d had to strike a deal with the Devil (Dean’s private name for their wealthy investor, Crowley) in order to save it from going under. It had always been their dream to start up a family business and they’d each quit lucrative careers (Dean as a mechanic, Sam as a lawyer) to open Winchester Bros. It had taken every penny of their life savings to do it, they just couldn’t give up so soon.

Pride still smarting with the knowledge that they’d be under Crowley’s thumb for the foreseeable future, Dean hadn’t exactly been the friendliest bartender that night. After being short with a small bachelorette party, Sam told him to concentrate on the solo patrons at the bar who usually weren’t the chatty types and leave the groups to him. Dean hadn’t argued, they needed as much patronage as possible, he could ill afford to turn what could be repeat customers into people who never came back just because he was in a mood.

Down at the far end of the bar, he saw a man with dark, messy hair hunched over the bar. He wore a slightly dirty trench coat over a deep navy suit and had a five o’clock shadow darkening his jawline. All in all, a fairly standard-looking barfly, if he were judging a book by its cover. Dean leaned both hands on the bar and tried not to sound too brusque as he asked, “What can I get you?”

Then the man looked up… and Dean forgot everything. He was lost in the bluest eyes ever to blue, bluer than the tie hanging crooked from the man’s neck. Dean’s mouth might have gone slack, he wasn’t sure. They were like angel’s eyes, almost too pretty to be real.

“I don’t know,” said the man, immediately dubbed Angel Eyes. He seemed kind of down, but that wasn’t unusual for a lone bar patron. “Do you have a menu?”

“W-we do,” said Dean, pulling over the list printed on laminated cardstock once he remembered how to speak. The line at the top read ‘Winchester Brews,’ which he’d thought damn clever at the time, now he worried it was corny. “Ahem… Everything on offer is brewed in-house, plus I can make you just about anything you like.”

“Anything, huh?” He looked at the menu, but didn’t really seem to be reading it. “I don’t know,” he said again, “surprise me?”

Something was really bothering this man, Dean could tell, his bartender instincts were jangling like crazy. His bi-dar, however, was all over the place. He never had a problem flirting with the ladies who came in, but it was always hard to tell if he was clear to make a pass at a man. That kind of thing could get dangerous, depending on who it was and what kind of attitude they had.

“Surprise you,” Dean repeated, reaching below the bar for a tumbler which he filled with a few ice cubes. “Well, you look like a man of… discerning tastes.” He followed this with a wink to test the waters. To his delight, Angel Eyes smiled. And Dean’s heartbeat doubled. He turned around and took a surreptitious breath in an attempt to calm it down, but it didn’t work.

From the back shelf, he retrieved a bottle of whiskey with a simple handwritten label on the front that read ‘Winchester Special #5’ and turned back to face him. As he poured, Dean said, “This here is our monthly special.”

“What makes it special?”

“It changes every month,” said Dean. “Afterward, we add it to the list of brews. And if you can guess the flavor, the inspiration behind it… it’s on me.”

“Has anyone gotten it right yet?” It was the nineteenth, he’d assumed correctly that some people had already tried Dean’s challenge.

He shook his head. “Not quite.” Gesturing at the tumbler, he quirked a brow and asked, “Care to try?”

Angel Eyes picked up the glass and took a sip. He tilted his head, appearing thoughtful.

“So?” asked Dean when he didn’t get an immediate answer. “What’s it taste like to you?”

“Hmm. Molecules.”

Dean laughed outright and Angel Eyes grinned. “Well, you’re not wrong!” he exclaimed. “Molecules, heh, can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before, but is that your final answer?”

Swirling the ice in the glass, Angel Eyes took a longer pull, maintaining eye contact with Dean as he rolled the whiskey slowly over his tongue. Dean’s mouth went dry as he watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallowed. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and those bluer than blue eyes followed the movement.

Angel Eyes clicked his tongue. “Blueberry…” he said, slowly. “But there’s something else… It’s sweet and… creamy?”

“No hints,” said Dean, but mentally he was cheering the man on, wanting him to make the right guess, and he was so, so close.

He took one last sip from the glass, finishing it off. “It’s good. I like it. It reminds me of a blueberry sour cream pie. Final answer.”

Dean grinned broadly. “We have a winner!”

He returned the smile with one of his own and it seemed like both of them had forgotten their problems prior to their meeting each other. “Really?”

Nodding, Dean poured him another. “On me. Since you’re the first correct guess.”

He picked up the tumbler and saluted Dean with it. “Cheers.”

Dean nodded, a little disappointed that he didn’t have an excuse to keep their conversation going, and turned to go back to work.

“Oh, and—”

Heart in his throat, he looked back. Angel Eyes hesitated.

“Thank you,” he said, finally. “This… really helped.”

“Yeah?”

He made a vague gesture. “I don’t want to get into it, I know bartenders aren’t therapists,” he said. “Just some family issues.”

Dean’s heart sank. He had a family. Of course he did. “Well, you’re not the first guy to come here to escape his wife for a while,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh, I’m not married,” Angel Eyes said.

“Girlfriend?” came out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop himself.

He shook his head. “One of my brothers is constantly going through a rebellious phase. Our father isn’t happy about it.”

“Ohhhh, well, I can definitely understand annoying brothers,” said Dean, aiming his thumb at Sam who was down at the opposite end of the bar, and forcing himself to swallow down any follow-up questions. He’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it, Dean wanted to respect that. “You should bring your family around,” he said, smiling. “It’s easier to open up after a few, you know?”

Angel Eyes chuckled. “I’m not sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. Besides…” He thumbed the rim of his glass before glancing back up, hitting him with that blue gaze all over again. “I don’t know if I want them coming around here. Maybe I want to keep you all to myself.”

Any thoughts of pushing for more patrons to offset his and Sam’s massive debt had flown away. Dean could only nod like an idiot, he knew what the man meant, of course, but the unspoken implications in the statement were pinging around in his head like a super ball. He might have squeaked out an ‘okay’ or a ‘yeah’ as he headed back to work, he didn’t remember. He did remember almost tripping over his own feet and not looking back, knowing his face would be bright red. He pretended to not remember hearing another chuckle.

Since then, Angel Eyes came in at least once a week, always sat at the end of the bar, and always ordered the monthly special, even though he paid for each subsequent drink following his correct guess. He was never wrong about the flavor either, which amazed Dean, he even got the lemon meringue right. He’d been so sure that no one would get it – he’d heard lemon-vanilla, toasted marshmallow, all kinds of other things because who guesses ‘meringue’ for a whiskey anyway? Apparently, a man with gorgeous blue eyes in a slightly dirty trench coat. Three months in, he was the only person who’d figured out that Dean based all the specials on his favorite pies and it only made his guesses come that much quicker.

As he headed out to the front, he dropped off the pitcher of beer and grabbed #15 from the shelf. He almost couldn’t believe it had been ten months since his favorite patron had first come in. Tonight was the night, he resolved, he would ask for Angel Eyes’ actual name. Maybe in another ten months, he’d work up the courage to ask for his number. Dean internally rolled his eyes at himself. He was truly pathetic.

Angel Eyes perked up at the end of the bar the moment Dean emerged from the back, yellow light from a nearby neon sign on the wall reflecting off his dark hair, almost like a halo. They smiled at each other and Dean’s heart was immediately doing flips, seeing how obviously happy he was to see him. Could be the Crush Goggles, but still…

“Fancy seeing you here,” said Dean, filling the glass with ice and setting it down on the bar. “I was wondering when you’d be in to try the latest special.”

“I’m just hoping it isn’t Pumpkin Spice,” said Angel Eyes. Being that it was October, it was a fair comment. You couldn’t go ten feet without encountering something bearing that smell and/or flavor.

“I do like pumpkin pie,” said Dean, pouring the whiskey. “But I think it’s more of a November flavor.”

Dark brows lifted. “A hint? This is new. What did I do to deserve that?”

Dean laughed. “Maybe I’m in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Me too. It’s a good night.”

“Hopefully, about to be better,” said Dean, nodding at the glass.

“I don’t need to drink to have a good time,” he said, but picked up the tumbler all the same to have a sip.

“Your continued presence at my bar says otherwise,” said Dean.

Angel Eyes swallowed. “There are other reasons a person might come to a bar.”

“Such as?”

“Good ambience.” He took a longer sip and let his eyes wander over Dean before traveling back up as he swallowed. “I like the company.”

Dean hoped he wasn’t blushing but he couldn’t hold back a goofy smile. “You do get to meet all kinds of people in a place like this,” he said.

“Yes, though I was referring to one specific person.”

“Yeah?”

He finished the whiskey and set down the glass, meeting Dean’s eyes head-on. “Yes.”

Mouth dry, Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh…” He gestured at the tumbler. “Any guesses?”

“Maybe.” He trailed one finger around the rim of the glass. “If I pay for the drink, can I have something else as my prize? If I get it right, of course.”

“Uh.” He swallowed hard. “S-s-sure.” He could hardly manage the one word; he couldn’t even summon the brain power to ask what it was he wanted.

Smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Angel Eyes considered his answer. “This is a good one,” he said. “Definitely not pumpkin, but it has sweetness… and a note of tart as well.”

“Are you a sommelier?” Dean asked suddenly. “That would sure as hell explain a lot.”

He laughed, the bright sound so incongruous with his gravelly voice, it had quickly become one of Dean’s favorite things about him. So much so, that he would go out of his way to come up with a corny joke or allow himself to be a little clumsy, just for the chance to hear that laugh.

“No,” he said, still smiling. “Disappointed?”

“No. I just can’t figure out how you’re never wrong.”

“I haven’t made my guess yet,” he pointed out.

“And?”

Deliberately, he reached into his glass and retrieved a small ice cube. Before Dean knew what was happening, Angel Eyes was popping it into his mouth and sucking on it while he thought about what answer to give.

Guh. He has to be doing this on purpose! Dean thought. How does he make everything he does so sexy?

Still keeping eye contact with Dean, he bit down hard. Crunch! If he kept this up, Dean would need to run to the bathroom and readjust his jeans. To try and diffuse some of the tension in the air, Dean attempted to make a joke like he usually would.

“You, uh, you know what they say about people who chew their ice, don’t you?” he asked, almost tripping on his own tongue.

“No,” he said, to Dean’s surprise. “What do they say?”

Well, this backfired spectacularly, thought Dean. “They, uh… that they’re, well, you know…” Those clear blue eyes wouldn’t give him an inch, Angel Eyes sat patiently waiting to hear the punchline of Dean’s naughty joke like they were talking about the weather. He had no choice but to quietly stutter, “That they’re… s-s-sexually frustrated.”

“Oh.”

Really? That’s all you have to say, ‘oh’? thought Dean, incredulously. While he watched, Angel Eyes fished out another ice cube and crunched down on it viciously, all while holding Dean’s gaze, as if to punctuate his statement. Heat creeping up into his cheeks, Dean took a steadying breath. Curse blushing, he thought. Curse the noun, curse the verb, curse the act!

“H-have I finally stumped you?” Dean asked when his tongue decided to work again.

“Caramel apple rhubarb,” he said, definitively. “Final answer.”

“Damn!” exclaimed Dean, pounding one fist on the bar. “You did it again!”

All he did was smile in response, the handsome bastard. As he reached into his coat pocket, he casually remarked, “You know, your freckles disappear when you blush.”

He blinked. “They do?”

“Then I get to notice them all over again when they come back.” Retrieving his wallet, he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and placed it on the bar between them. “It’s what I’ve been calling you in my head all this time. Freckles.”

“Well, that’s kind of rude, how would you like it if my brother and I were calling you Trench Coat behind your back?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, good, because that’s totally what we’ve been doing.”

They snickered together.

“Out of curiosity,” said Dean, “what were you calling Sammy?”

“Manbun.”

Dean snorted. “I’m absolutely going to call him that.”

“So, his name is Sam? You don’t wear nametags, so I’ve only ever known your last name.”

“Nametags are lame.”

“They are. What’s your name, then?”

“Is this what you wanted instead of a free drink?”

“No, this is something I should have asked ten months ago.”

Fair point. Dean held out his hand. “Dean,” he said.

His fingers were cold from the ice but his palm was warm and smooth. “Castiel.”

“Wow.” It wasn’t a name he’d ever heard before; surprise mixed with his pleasure over finally learning the name of his long-held crush. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Not sure. Probably something anti-climactic, like Steve.” He picked up the ten with his other hand. “I’ll get you some change.”

Castiel tightened his grip when Dean would have let go. “Keep it,” he said. “Consider it a tip.”

“Okay,” Dean said, slowly, tucking the bill into his apron pocket.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” asked Castiel.

“No.”

He grinned and it put all of the smiles Dean had received before to shame. It held a hint of mischievousness as he said, “That’s what I want.”

“You-you want—what? D-dinner? W-with me?” Dean couldn’t quite believe his ears. He’d barely been able to hope for a first-name basis tonight, he couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to score a date. But then, considering they’d been dancing around each other for ten months, maybe Castiel thought if he didn’t make the first move, it would never happen.

Bringing up his other hand, Castiel sandwiched Dean’s between the two as he said, very deliberately, “I don’t believe I’ve guessed wrong.”

Dean could be pretty dense sometimes, but he knew unequivocally that Castiel wasn’t talking about the whiskey. “I’m off in half an hour,” he said, smiling like an idiot.

“I’ll be waiting… Freckles.”

Okay… so maybe blushing wasn’t such a bad thing.

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mystic-shadows42 · 3 years

Text

Heart of Fire

Based on this request:

Pairing: Ubbe x reader

Warnings: None

Ubbe watched boats arrive at Kattegat with curiosity. He was the only one out of the brothers to still be there after Lagertha raided and usurped his mother. Surprisingly, Lagertha showed her mercy so now Aslaug was long gone.

It still made Ubbe bitter. The whole event dragged their family name into the dirt. People would talk but still respected Ragnar. Though nobody was fooled by his sons. The people thought they wouldn’t live up to their father’s name and would give in just like their mother.

Ubbe felt that this whole matter was because of Lagertha. She was everywhere and if she wasn’t there then her name would be. He felt that if Lagertha wasn’t so corrupt with power then their names would still be respected.

There was always conflict between the two. Ubbe never gives her the time of day. He was always a jerk to her while she’d just be irritated with him in general.

There were even talks of there being a rally against Lagertha.

A rally on Aslaug’s behalf. Ubbe wasn’t sure what he’d do just yet. Right now, he was just scouting and weighing his options. Fighting against Lagertha seemed promising to him even though she allowed him to stay in Kattegat.

She was wary of him, that’s why there were always scouts watching him. He didn’t know why he continued to stay. He just felt that he needed to for some odd reason.

He watched Lagertha welcoming her allies then he saw a woman emerge. Lagertha embraced her quickly and looked her over, all the while smiling.

Then it dawned on Ubbe that the mysterious woman must be Lagertha’s daughter. The daughter that nobody really knew of. She was beautiful and had a demanding presence. Before Ubbe could even think of what he was doing, he was already making his way towards you.

He would wait just out of sight until Lagertha left.

You on the other hand caught sight of a particularly handsome man hiding. He wasn’t hiding very well but just enough to not be seen by your mother.

It must be the man your mother warned you about. One of the sons of Ragnar that she couldn’t quite figure out if he was a friend or foe, Ubbe.

Strangely enough, as your mother talked to you, your eyes would glance over to him every once in a while. For the first time in your life, you weren’t listening to what your mother was saying.

You found yourself wanting her to leave so you could talk to him. It was the strangest feeling yet a welcomed one.

When your mother finally left your presence, Ubbe stepped out and lifted his brows at you. He looked you over in great eagerness.

“I thought you a myth. The daughter of shieldmaiden Lagertha standing just before me.”

“I thought you a fraud. The son of Ragnar and Aslaug, blessed with looks and skilled with a sword.”

Ubbe continued to move towards you slowly.

“No doubt about it. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His eyes were the bluest you’ve ever seen and they were looking at you. The sight was enough to make you speechless. This was your mother’s supposed enemy and you were ogling him just as he was to you.

You cleared your throat which was enough for Ubbe to change the subject. “So, what brings you to Kattegat?”

“My mother. She sent for me because she is unsure of you as well as your brothers.”

“You’re basically telling me that you could possibly be here to kill me.”

“Exactly, so watch your back,” you said amusingly. You stepped around him and started to head towards the great hall where everyone was gathering. The only thought going through your head was that some distance would do you good.

Ubbe couldn’t help but smile. He should feel threatened and on high alert, but he wasn’t. He wanted to know more. He was quick to turn around and jog up beside you.

“Lagertha’s probably told you all she knows about me, but I don’t know anything about you.”

“Maybe I like it like that.”

Ubbe nodded in understanding. He thought that was fair. Everyone seemed to know about him and his family, but that was just the surface of it all.

“Fine, I’ll tell you something about me personally rather than someone else feeding you false information. I don’t like fighting as much as my brothers. Someday I want to leave Kattegat and start farming to have a better life for my people.”

You were impressed. “You’re different than what I imagined.”

“Is that so bad? Did Lagertha taint your idea of me?”

“She doesn’t speak ill of you. She admires you but I think some of her isn’t finished with Ragnar, so she takes some of her bitterness out on you. I actually think you two could actually get along if you put your egos aside.”

“Friends with Lagertha. What would my mother think, better yet my brothers?”

“Do their opinions really matter?”

“They’re my brothers. Do you care what Lagertha thinks?”

“She’s my mother,” you replied in the same playful tone as he did. Ubbe simply smiled back.

“Perhaps Lagertha sent you here to coax me. Maybe even seduce me.” He mentioned as his eyes widened playfully.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You would like that wouldn’t you, but If I was trying to seduce you then you’d know.”

There was a peaceful silence between you both. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. Your exchange with Ubbe was far different than what you expected. Your mother had said he was stubborn and stuck up, but he didn’t seem like that at all.

“What about you? Do you crave power like Lagertha?”

“No. Having too much power is dangerous.”

“I understand. Being king changed my father. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I don’t like your mother.”

You were quite surprised by how open he was to express his feelings about your mother to you. “She tries to do what’s best for everyone. She’s not perfect but she does what has to be done.”

After your conversation with Ubbe, you excused yourself. It was eerie just how much you were starting to like him. The best thing to do is to distance yourself from him until he isn’t a threat to your mother.

So that’s exactly what you did. You purposefully stayed on the opposite side of the room, away from Ubbe.

You smiled watching the crowd of people having a good time. Your mother snuck beside you with her eyes only on one person.

“Why does Ubbe stare at you?”

You looked around then saw Ubbe. He smirked under your mother’s scrutinizing gaze. You slightly tilted your head as a hint for him not to stare. All he did was hold up his cup in the air towards you both.

It took all of your being not to laugh because you know your mother would be infuriated at the notion. He did it as a way to mock her.

“Ubbe’s eyes wander over everybody mother. There’s no need to worry.”

“I worry because I know the ways of men. I’m not blind, I saw you two earlier. Just be sure not to fall for him like I did with Ragnar.” You sighed deeply not wanting to hear any of this now. Everyone was having a good time but your mother was still on high alert. “I just don’t want to see you get your heartbroken over someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Trust me mother, my heart belongs to no one but me.”

“It’s just that... Ubbe doesn’t smile and he smiles at you every time.”

You grabbed your mother’s arms and looked into her eyes. “Mother, please try to relax. There’s no need to worry. There’s no fight, so stop looking for one. Just enjoy today.”

The big gathering of troops made everyone feel joyous and want to celebrate. People were playing music and dancing. You clapped your hands as couples got up and danced around in circles with their partners.

A man outstretched his hand to you to dance. You accepted before there could be any hints of doubt in your mind. You danced with the man and looked over to Ubbe to see him already looking at you.

Ubbe took a swig of his drink and stood up heading towards you. Once the man you were dancing with saw Ubbe he dismissed himself to find another partner to dance with.

“I didn’t peg you as a dancer.”

“You never asked.”

You didn’t know how long you were dancing with Ubbe for but time didn’t seem of the essence at the moment. Everything with Ubbe seemed timeless and easy.

Though when the thought of your mother came to mind, that changed. She didn’t trust Ubbe and she definitely wouldn’t like seeing you with him right now.

You dropped your hands from Ubbe’s. He got closer to you to see what was wrong but he stopped when you looked at him. “I better get settled in for the night.”

He cleared his throat and took a step back. “Right. Well goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Ubbe.”

Ubbe watched you leave fighting the urge to walk with you. When he looked back into the crowd, he saw Lagertha giving him an unamused look. He sighed loudly and knew he wasn’t going to hear the end of it.

He was making his way out of the crowd knowing Lagertha would likely follow. Of course, she caught up and tugged on his arm.

“I want you to listen to what I have to say Ubbe.”

Ubbe exhaled loudly trying not to become irritated after such a good day which was rare for him.

“By all means, go on,” he said sarcastically as Lagertha stood in front of him to block his path.

“I want you to distance yourself from my daughter.”

Ubbe began to chuckle making Lagertha become aggravated.

“I can’t do that Lagertha. I know how much your daughter means to you but you’re going to have to let her make decisions for herself. If that includes being around me, then so be it.”

“You’re a mirror image of my ex-husband, your father. You remind me a lot of him. You have his ambitions but you also have his flaws.”

“The flaws are all you see in me Lagertha. The difference between me and my father is that I won’t abandon my responsibilities. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I trust your daughter a lot more than you.”

“You’ve only just met her yet you speak as if you two are more than just friends. Let me remind you that you’re married Ubbe. So is she.”

Ubbe narrowed his brows. “You lie.”

“I may not like you Ubbe but I would never lie.” Lagertha circled Ubbe as he was deep in thought. “It seems that my daughter may not have been completely honest with you but you shouldn’t be angry with her. You have a wife of your own or have you forgotten? Now go on with your life and quit trying to get with my daughter to spite me.”

“Have you not been listening?! I’m not trying to get close to your daughter to make you angry. It’s genuine with her. I felt it the moment I saw her. So did she though she might be a bit prideful to admit it.”

Lagertha didn’t like it one bit. She willed herself not to reach for her weapon. So she gritted her teeth and would only leave him a warning.

“Keep your distance.”

Tagged: @belovedcherry @lordsexmachine @lol-haha-joke @mariaenchanted @ethereallysimple @bababasti @ir-abelas-telanadas

#Ubbe #Ubbe Lothbrok #Ubbe ragnarsson #Ubbe x reader #Ubbe imagine #vikings #Vikings fanfiction

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mldrgrl · 3 years

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Broken Things 1/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall Summary: The year is 1886, William Mulder owns a horse ranch in northern Texas. The widow of a neighboring landowner has something he wants. Notes: Please be aware that this fic will contain ‘off-camera’ references to violence and abuse of various kinds. I will not be tagging individual TWs on the chapters.

Prologue

Many years from now, when he tells the tales of his younger days, he will claim that this is the day that changed his life forever. If that horse hadn’t thrown a shoe, well then. His wife will roll her eyes at this, tell him that any number of events prior to that day had already changed his life forever. The decision to leave Massachusetts for the open prairie, for example, had changed his life forever. The fact that his father had sent him to live with his aunt in the countryside instead of keeping him in the city had changed his life forever. The pony he received for his birthday when he was a child had clearly changed his life forever.

All of that will hindsight one day. Right now, it’s just an ordinary Thursday, the 9th of September, 1886. The weather is mild, almost cool compared to the heat wave that had hit in the latter half of August. And William Mulder’s horse has thrown a shoe.

Chapter 1

Normally, Mulder (only his family ever called him William) sends his ranch hand, Melvin, to take care of small errands and menial tasks, but he hasn’t been to town in almost a month and he could use a change of pace. He hitches one of his more reliable horses to his wagon and takes one of the ones in training as well, one he’s just broken in, to see how he handles on the hour-long ride. Their first stop is Gray’s Blacksmith.

After tying the horses to the post, Mulder gives them both a good scratching about the neck for a job well done and receives a snort and whinny of appreciation. “Well done, boys,” he says. “Carrots and apples at home for both of you if you keep up the good work.”

The familiar sound of clanking and hammering and the crackle of fire greets Mulder as he steps into the open door of the blacksmith’s. He tips his hat to the striker, who nods a greeting. The blacksmith turns and nods as well.

“Mr. Gray,” Mulder says.

“Mr. Mulder,” the blacksmith answers, passing his tongs to his assistant and then removing his gloves to shake hands. “What can I do for ya?”

“Faithful Jenny’s thrown a shoe. Melvin’s fixing her up, but I figured it was a good time to pick up a crate of nails and shoes.”

“Come on back and take a look then. How’s business?”

“Doing well. We’re training up a half dozen draft horses for the postal service right now.”

“Is the rumor you pulled in a mustang a few weeks ago true?”

“Afraid so.”

“You ain’t got a broken neck far as I can tell, so you must be faring alright with him then.”

“You can see him for yourself when I take this cart out to the wagon.”

“You brung him with ya?”

“I did.”

“I’ll be.”

Mulder feels a surge of pride when the blacksmith comes out to admire the horse. He slides the crate of shoes and nails into the back of the wagon and then shows off his friendship with the four-legged beast by rubbing his belly. The horse scratches the ground with his front hoof and shakes his head.

“You sure got a way, Mr. Mulder,” Mr. Gray says. “If you got any stock you’re looking to sell I heard there’s a new homesteader a ways south that was interested.”

“I’m on my way to the mercantile. I’ll be sure to ask John.”

The two men shake hands once again before Mulder gets back in his wagon. He smiles to himself when the blacksmith watches him leave. He’s made a name for himself in the short while he’s been here breaking and training up horses. Folks in the area have said time and again that there isn’t a horse he can’t tame, that it’s almost downright spooky the way he seems to be able to talk to them.

There’s a man being waited on in the mercantile that Mulder doesn’t recognize, probably someone just passing through. He waits for John Byers to finish with the customer, browsing the Montgomery Ward & Co. catalog at the end of the counter.

“Mulder,” John says after ringing the man up at the till. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, John.” He pulls a shopping list from his pocket and unfolds it. “I’m sure you’re better at translating Melvin’s chicken scratches than me at this point.”

“I believe I can manage.” John chuckles and takes the shopping list. He pulls a crate down and begins to collect items off the shelves and William goes back to the catalogue, thumbing past the illustrations of ladies’ garments to find menswear.

“If I put in an order for denim trousers for me and the boys you think they’ll be in by winter?”

“I’d say it’s likely.”

“Mr. Gray mentioned there were some new homesteaders interested in horses.”

“He must mean Mr. Campbell. It’s oxen he’s after, I believe.”

“If you hear otherwise, send him my way.”

“I’ll do that. I suppose you heard about your neighbor?”

“What neighbor is that?”

“Jack Willis.”

“Haven’t heard a thing. What about him?”

“He spent all of Saturday night at the saloon in a poker game and was found dead in a ditch just outside of town on Sunday morning.”

“Robbed?”

“I should actually say he spent all Saturday night losing in a poker game and downing whiskey like water. I heard he stumbled his way into that ditch of his own accord and met an untimely demise.”

“I only met him the once, but that doesn’t surprise me much. Far be it for me to speak ill of the dead, but the man had a disagreeable disposition. He seemed like the type to get himself into trouble.”

“Well, the bank is soon to be after his widow. I’ve heard he’s in arrears. I’m actually surprised the Sheriff didn’t stop on at your place on his way out there to tell her about her husband’s death.”

“Didn’t know he had a widow. And you know Sheriff Doggett, he’s all business.”

“My Susannah saw them together, he and his wife, the day they passed through looking for land, and you know Susannah, she was beside herself at the notion of another woman come to town, but then no one’s seen hide nor hair of her since.”

“I still regret having been back east when Old Man Goodwin passed. I’ve had my eye on that land for quite some time.”

“Maybe she’ll sell it to you.”

Mulder rubs at his chin in thought. “You say the bank is about to repossess?”

“That’s the rumor. I don’t think Mr. Skinner would relish evicting a new widow, but there probably isn’t much he can do if the mortgage is late.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to take a ride out to pay my respects and assess the situation. Thank you, John.”

Byers nods and gestures to the items laid out on the counter. “I’ll have John Jr. load the cart for you. Would you like this on your account?”

“I’ll square up everything now, but go ahead and order those trousers.”

The hour ride back home gives Mulder time to think. He’s in a position to offer the Willis widow a handsome sum for his neighboring acres. The one and only time he’d met Jack Willis he was immediately soured on trying to form any kind of friendship with him. The man had been downright surly and abrasive and he sure hopes the widow is more neighborly.

Melvin takes over the wagon when Mulder arrives home and shows him the new shoe on Faithful Jenny. The older man is at least a foot closer to the ground than Mulder and proudly displays a life-long love of hearty biscuits around his middle, but there’s no better right-hand man that Mulder could ask for. He’s foreman and farrier, counselor and cook. There isn’t anything Mulder doesn’t trust him with. As they unload the wagon together, he tells him about what he heard from John Byers.

“Well, there’s no harm in asking,” Melvin offers as advice. “If’n the bank really is after her, she might be grateful for the offer. You should probably get out there as soon as possible in case anyone else might be sniffin’ around for them acres.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“You know if’n I’d heard about Bob Goodwin any sooner I’d have snatched up them acres for you before I could even send a wire.”

“I know, it’s not your fault. Do me a favor, old man, tack up Blondie while I try to make myself presentable.”

“That could take hours. Days even.”

“Decades, in your case. If it’s even possible.”

The two men laugh over their gentle ribbing of each other and Mulder claps Melvin on the shoulder. He parts from his friend to go wash his face, comb his hair, and put on a fresh shirt. His horse is saddled and ready to go when he comes back out.

“Good luck,” Melvin tells him.

A narrow, slow-moving creek divides Mulder’s property from the Willis widow’s land. It’s one he’s crossed many times when Old Man Goodwin was his neighbor. He knows where the shallowest spot is to lead the horse and where the shrubs are too thick and have to be avoided. He tries not to daydream about what he’ll do with an expansion, but he passes the spot he’d like to clear out for a better corral and where he’d like to add another stable and it’s hard not to hope.

The old sod house that Old Man Goodwin had slapped together is still standing, though it looks to have seen better days. The roof needs patching and the walls are crumbling in spots. He dismounts Blondie when he’s still a few yards away and leads the horse over to the post he knows is at the side of the house. The nearby trough which is usually full of water is empty. The chickens that were usually clucking and underfoot are nowhere to be seen.

Mulder knocks lightly on the clapboard door and moments later a woman with the reddest hair and the bluest eyes he’s ever seen answers.

↭

Katherine is expecting the knock when it comes, though it’s sooner than she thought it would be. In the days since her husband’s death, she’s racked her brain for a solution to her current predicament, but has come up empty handed. She doesn’t delay in answering the door. She may be on the verge of being destitute and homeless, but she’ll face it with dignity.

“Uh, Mrs. Willis, I presume?” the man asks. He stammers a bit but he has an easy, congenial smile that catches her a little off guard. She’d been expecting the Sheriff she’d met on Sunday, but perhaps the bank manager in this town takes care of evictions.

“Mr. Skinner, I presume?” she finally replies.

The man chuckles and removes his hat. “Ah, no Ma’am,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “I’m afraid I have a bit more hair than our dear Mr. bank manager.”

“Oh.” She should have known. The bank managers she’s had dealings with in the past were stuffy and pinched. This man is far too rugged and handsome to be a bank manager.

“William Mulder.” He holds out his hand to her and when she gives him hers, he bows slightly and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips lightly across her knuckles. Embarrassed, she pulls her hand back and closes it into a fist to hide her dirty and calloused palms from him.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asks.

“I know we haven’t met before, but I happen to be your neighbor just to the south. I heard about your husband and I’ve come to pay my respects.”

“I see. Would you...care to come in, then?”

“Thank you.”

He has to bend to step through the low-frame of the door. She has no candles, but there’s enough light from the open door and the unpatched holes in the walls that it’s unnecessary. She watches him look the place over and she can tell he’s not impressed by the shabbiness of it all.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to offer you,” she says.

He smiles politely. “That’s alright, Ma’am. I came to be neighborly, but there is also a matter I wanted to discuss regarding this land.”

“Oh?” Fear grips her suddenly. He may not be the bank man, and he may not be the sheriff, but he could be another kind of lawman. Even if he was telling the truth that he was her neighbor, he could still be there to turn her out, or worse yet, remove her to debtor’s prison. Unconsciously, she begins to tremble.

“Mrs. Willis?” he asks. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she answers, pulling the tattered shawl draped over her shoulders a little tighter across her chest. “A chill is all.”

He looks around again. “You’ve no chair to sit on?”

“No.”

“Would you like to come back outside? Perhaps it will be warmer. You could sit on my horse.”

The absurdity of the offer makes her laugh and eases her anxiety somewhat. He bites his lower lip almost shyly and tips his chin down as he turns the hat over in his hands again. She stares at his mouth, thinking about how the slight overbite he has seems to suit him well. She notes other things too, in the silence. Like how his beard is well-trimmed and his nails are clean. He presents himself as a cowboy, but she knows a city man when she sees one.

“Um, Mrs. Willis, I…”

She flinches at the name. “Katherine,” she says.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’d prefer you call me Katherine.”

He cocks his head a little to the side and smiles. “Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,” he murmurs.

She can’t help but lift her right eyebrow. It used to irritate her husband immensely when she pulled faces, as he called it. “Rather Kate the Curst,” she replies.

His eyes widen and seem to brighten. “You know Shakespeare?”

“You look surprised.”

“No, no, it’s just...I haven’t had much opportunity to discuss the Bard out here. Apologies for the Taming of the Shrew reference, but whenever I come across a Katherine, I can’t help but make the association. Especially when it’s not altogether untrue.”

She feels the heat rise to her cheeks with the compliment that she knows is entirely unwarranted. She was never very pretty. Her mother used to complain about how wild and curly her hair was when she was a child, not to mention the dreadful freckles across her nose and cheeks. It may have been quite some time since she’s been in the presence of a looking glass, but she doesn’t need one to know that her appearance is lacking.

“I suppose I could have just as easily been a Viola or an Ophelia,” she says, avoiding his flattery.

“Hopefully not a Lady MacBeth.”

“No.” The conversation stalls momentarily, but then she wets her lips and tightens her shawl again. “You said there was something you came to speak with me about?”

“I was away on some business when Old Man...ah, that is, when Mr. Goodwin, the previous owner of your land, passed on. I’d been eyeing this parcel for some time and had been planning to offer Mr. Goodwin a sum to sell it to me. I’d like to make you that same offer.”

“Ah.” She closes her eyes and chuckles mirthlessly for a brief moment. “I’m afraid I can’t take that offer.”

“Have you sold to someone else?”

“No, but I’m not in a position to sell. My husband leased this land and I have every reason to doubt he ever made good on the rent. He drank most of the money and gambled what was left of that.”

“I see.”

“I’m just biding my time now until the bank comes to collect and turn me out.”

“Do you have people back...wherever it is that you're from?”

“Virginia.”

“It’s not but a few days ride to Fort Worth, I could send a wire to someone for you.”

“You would do that?”

“Of course.”

“No.” She shakes her head slowly and sighs. “There’s no one back home, but thank you.”

He shifts his feet and tries to speak, but he says nothing. He looks dumbfounded in a way that almost makes her feel sorry for him.

“Was that all?” she asks.

“Ma’am,” he stammers. “Mrs. Willis...Katherine...I can’t...I can’t…”

She doesn’t know what compels her to do it, but she reaches out and puts her hand over his where it grips the brim of his hat. He falls silent and stops his fidgeting. She squeezes his hand lightly and lets her fingers rest against his wrist for a few moments before she takes it away.

“Since you seem familiar with the bank man,” she says. “I’m sure you’ll get your wish soon enough.”

“But…”

“Good day to you, Mr. Mulder. Thank you for coming.”

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 1 #AU #MSR

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james-joyces-right-eyeball · 3 years

Text

Absolute Favorite Books I’d Recommend to Anyone

This is a list of my top-tier favorite books that I would recommend/talk about endlessly to pretty much anyone (in no particular order). I know people probably don’t care but I just like talking about books I love so here we are.

Beloved - Toni Morrison

~ Based off the real story of Margaret Garner, a slave woman who escaped slavery and when captured killed her child in order to prevent them from ever being enslaved again, Beloved tells the story of a mother named Sethe, born in slavery who eventually escaped and is haunted by the figurative demons of her trauma and the literal (arguably) ghost of her dead daughter, who she herself killed. It is an excellent exploration of the horrors of slavery and of the haunting legacy of the institution for those who were subjected to it.

Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

~ If you’ve been on Tumblr for a while, you probably know what Lolita is. The story of the predatory Humbert Humbert who lusts after, rapes, and kidnaps the “nymphet” Dolores Haze. An excellent construction of how predators, unreliable narrators in their own right, hide behind fabrications, almost-believable excuses, and pretty words to make their actions seem maybe not so bad. In the words of the book itself, “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.”

Ulysses - James Joyce

~ Notoriously one of the most difficult books in the English language, Ulysses lifts its structure from Homer’s Odyssey to tell the story of a common man, Leopold Bloom, as he goes about his day. Yes, this book takes place over the course of only one day. We follow Bloom as well as Joyce’s literary counterpart Stephen Daedalus through their thoughts and actions, gathering details of their lives previous throughout. It’s a book that, in my own words, “is life”. It is sad, funny, strange, vulgar, disgusting, beautiful, revelatory, sensual, and nonsensical all at once. Joyce aimed to create a reflection of life through his stream-of-consciousness style which some people might find confusing, but I personally find absolutely beautiful and honest and realistic. The prose is also gorgeous, but that could be applied to everything Joyce wrote.

Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

~ The classic gothic book that tells the tale of Heathcliff and his ultimately destructive love of Catherine Earnshaw, whose eventual marriage to someone else and the general mistreatment of him by her family drives Heathcliff insane and he spends the rest of his life trying to take revenge by abusing and torturing the next Earnshaw and Linton (the family into which Catherine marries) generations. If I’m being honest, I like this book mostly because of how wild and dark it is, but the writing is also genius and beautiful. I think the book also carries an interesting view of the destructive nature of revenge, overzealous love, and othering.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith

~ A coming-of-age story at the turn of the century that tells the story of Francie Nolan, a young bookish girl growing up in a lower class family in New York City. It tells about her father’s struggles with alcoholism as well as her mother’s struggles to deal with that and at the same time raise Francie and her brother. Francie is confronted with a strange, uncertain world as a young girl, but tries to face it with bravery throughout childhood

Little Women - Louisa May Alcott

~ Another coming-of-age story, this time about four young sisters: Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy March. You are probably familiar with this book already; it’s had more movie adaptations then I can possibly remember off the top of my head. It’s the story of four sisters as they try to navigate growing up, love, and loss during the mid to late 1800s.

The Color Purple - Alice Walker

~ A novel that tells the story of Celie, a young black woman who is raped and then married young to a man who will go on to use and abuse her, through her letters to God. Throughout the novel she meets Shug Avery, a woman with whom she eventually falls in love and begins a relationship with. Through this and her eventual freedom from her abusive husband, she is able to gain at last her own sense of self and take back control over her life, a life no longer ruled by the abusive men around her.

The Bluest Eye - Toni Morrison

~ The tragic story of young black girl Pecola Breedlove, who wants nothing more than to have blonde hair and blue eyes just like the women she sees in the movies. Both a deconstruction of the whiteness of beauty standards as well as how these standards can utterly destroy vulnerable young girls, it is also an exploration of the people who allow these sorts of things to happen, including Pecola’s mother and father. The Bluest Eye, I think, showcases one of the aspects of Toni Morrison that I like the most, that I aspire to the most: her ability to enter the minds of all people, even people who you might despise at first. Her characters, especially Cholly in The Bluest Eye, are ones you might not entirely sympathize with, but they will always be ones you understand.

The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

~ Based off of the author’s own experiences as a young college student, The Bell Jar tells the story of Esther Greenwood, whose depression over her place as a woman in a patriarchal society as well as her inability to choose a life path for herself leads to a suicide attempt and a subsequent stay in a mental hospital. A very nuanced portrayal of mental illness, especially anxiety and depression, The Bell Jar is an extremely moving and relatable story for me and clearly is as well for others. It is a classic for a reason.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou

~ A memoir of Angelou’s childhood, this book tells the story of her experiences living as a black girl in the south with her grandmother and brother as well as her later years living with her mother. It also tells of how she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend when she was around eight or nine, and how she struggled to live with that and find her voice, both literally and figuratively. A wonderful book about overcoming struggles and the power of words and literature in such times.

Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison

~ Ellison’s novel tells the story of a young black man, never getting a name in the text, and his feelings of invisibility and his struggles to find a place in society to belong. His struggles only lead him further into despair, until he decides to “become invisible” as people seem not to see him as a person anyway. Invisible Man is an exploration of American mid-century racism and the isolation it causes to those subjected to it. Not only that, but it is surprisingly relevant to our times now, especially on the subject of police violence. (Personal anecdote: When I first read this book, when I got to the aforementioned police violence part it was right in the middle of the BLM resurgence last summer and I cried for a good twenty minutes while reading that chapter over how nothing had changed and it still hurts me to think about it. Embarrassingly, my dad walked in on me while I was crying, and I had to quickly explain it away.)

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man - James Joyce

~ The title basically says it all lol. This book tells of the coming-of-age of Stephen Daedalus (the same one from the later-written Ulysses). His sensitive childhood, his awkward and lustful adolescence, his feelings of Irish nationality and Catholic guilt, and his struggles to fully realize himself, both as an artist and a human being. It is a very hopeful story, and one that I love mostly because I relate so much to Stephen Daedalus as an artist and as a person.

One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

~ A magical-realist intergenerational family drama, Marquez’s book traces the various lives and loves of the Buendia family over the course of (you guessed it!) one hundred years. A beautifully written, at times extremely emotionally moving and chilling masterpiece, Marquez in a way retells the history of Colombia, of its colonization and exploitation.

Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

~ A classic Russian novel of society and love, Tolstoy tells the story of Anna Karenina, married, wealthy woman with a child she adores. However, she falls in love with another man, Count Vronsky, and comes to a tragic end for her love. The parallel story of the novel is that of Konstantin Levin, a wealthy landowner who also struggles to find fulfillment in his life and understand his place in society.

The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner

~ A novel that features an entire family of unreliable narrators, The Sound and the Fury details the fall of a once-prominent southern Compson family and always-present place of the past. There are four different narratives: Benjy Compson, a mentally disabled man who is unsure of his surroundings and of time and only knows that he misses his older sister Caddy; Quintin Compson, the eldest son and a Harvard man both obsessed with his sister retaining her “purity” and the fact that she failed to do so and had a baby out of wedlock, going as far to claim it is his baby in an attempt to preserve something of the family reputation; Jason Compson, who is the caretaker of Caddy’s daughter and believes her to be going down her mother’s “sinful” path; and Dilsey, the black maid of the Compson’s who unlike the people she cares for is not weighed down by their history. The narratives take place in different time periods and is in a stream-of-consciousness style. It’s a deeply dark and disturbing novel about the haunting nature of the past, a common theme in Faulkner’s work (see Absalom, Absalom! for more of this).

Song of Solomon - Toni Morrison

~ It is the story of Milkman Dead, a young black man growing up in the south and his relationship with his very complicated family. To say anymore would be to spoil the novel, but I will say that it is an excellent book about family, self-fulfillment in a world that tries to deny you that, and, like The Bluest Eye, exhibits Morrison’s excellent character work.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - Tennessee Williams

~ A play which takes place on the patriarch of a family’s birthday in the oppressive heat of the midsummer south, Williams’ play explores lies, secrets, and how repression only results in anger, frustration, and sadness. It’s a tragic but brilliant play that I think was very ahead of its time. If you’ve read it (or do read it) then you know what I mean.

Giovanni’s Room - James Baldwin

~ This book tells the story of a young man and his love of another man named Giovanni while he is in Paris. It is a book about love, queer guilt, and has what I would call an ambiguous ending. There is uncertainty at the end, but there does seem to be some kind of acceptance. It is a bit of a coming-out story, but more than that it is a story of personal acceptance and at the same time a sad, tragic love story.

HERmione - H.D.

~ An underrated modernist masterpiece, HERmione is a somewhat fictionalized account of the author, Hilda Doolittle’s, experience as a young aspiring poet dating another poet (in real life Ezra Pound in this book named George Lowndes) who is a threat to her both physically and emotionally. It explores her own mental state, as she considers herself a failure and falls in love with a woman for the first time (Fayne Rabb in the book, Frances Gregg in real life).

To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

~ People think about going to a lighthouse. They do not. A couple years and a war passes then they do. That may seem like a boring plot, and you may be right. However, To the Lighthouse is not much about plot. It is more about the inner lives of its characters, a family and their friends, on two different occasions of their lives: one before WWI and one after WWI. Woolf explores in this novel the trauma that results from such a massive loss of life and security. Not only that, she also explores the nature of art (especially in female artists) in the character of Lily Briscoe and her struggles to complete a painting. It’s a short novel, but it contains so much about life, love, and loss within these few pages.

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers

~ A southern gothic novel about isolation and loneliness in a small town. Every character has something to separate them from wider society, and often find solace and companionship in a deaf man, John Singer, who himself experiences a loneliness that they cannot understand. There are various forms of social isolation explored in this novel: by race, disability, age, gender, etc. A wonderful, heart-wrenching book about loneliness and the depths it can potentially drag people to.

The Waste Land - T.S. Eliot

~ A modernist masterpiece of a poem, Eliot describes feeling emptiness and isolation. The brilliance of it can only be shown by an excerpt:

“Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence.”

“The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear. “

(My personal favorite line from this poem is, “I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”)

The Trial - Franz Kafka

~ The protagonist of the novel, Josef K., wakes up one morning to find that he has been placed under arrest for reasons that are kept from him. Kafka creates throughout the novel a scathing satire of bureaucracy, as K. tries to find out more about his case, more about his trial, but only becomes more confused as he digs deeper. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the world he lives in, and the more tries to explain it the further the more that proves to be the case. An excellently constructed novel and a great one to read if you would like to be depressed about the state of the world because, though Kafka’s work is a satire, like a lot of his other work, it manages to strike a strangely real note.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - Tom Stoppard

~ An absurdist play that is a retelling of Shakespeare’s Hamlet from the perspective of minor characters, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who in the broad overview of the original play, do not matter. Throughout the play, they question their existence and the purpose of it and through that Stoppard dissects not only the absurdity of life, but how fiction and theater reflect that absurdity inadvertently.

As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner

~ The novel details the journey the Bundren family makes after the death of the family matriarch, Addie, to bury her. Each chapter offers a different narrative from the family members and those who surround them, revealing some ulterior motives to them “going to town” to bury Addie. The patriarch Anse desires a pair of false teeth, and the daughter Dewey Dell is pregnant and needs an abortion, as there is no way for her or her family to support it. It’s about the powerlessness of people in the impoverished south. The Bundrens are constantly subject to forces beyond their control, struggles which would be easily solved if they had the money to spare for it. There is more to the book, but that is my favorite reading of it, that of class. Faulkner’s ability to create distinct voices for every one of his characters shines through here.

And, last but not least:

The Collected Poems - Sylvia Plath

~ All the poems Plath wrote during her tragically short lifetime. The best way to demonstrate or summarize the book’s brilliance is just to show you. This is her poem “Edge”, which appears in the book:

“The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in the scrolls of her toga, Her bare Feet seem to be saying: We have come so far, it is over. Each dead child coiled, a white serpent, One at each little Pitcher of milk, now empty. She has folded Them back into her body as petals Of a rose close when the garden Stiffens and odors bleed From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower. The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.”

HOPE YOU ENJOYED! HAPPY READING TO ALL!

#dark academia #books and literature #toni morrison #james joyce #tennessee williams #virginia woolf #william faulkner #sylvia plath #plays #poetry #can you tell i like southern and modernist lit lol?

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alexhogh7137 · 3 years

Text

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four: The Final Warning

Word Count 4.5k

Warnings: some smut, slight angst, mentions of brutality, fluff in between

When you locked eyes with the love of your life for the first time in weeks, you felt whole again. It was like a huge piece of you has been missing these past weeks and now that you are whole again, you feel the power rush through your veins.

Daario "Wait..so this is your husband?" He looks at you, pointing to Ivar.

Ivar "And is that a problem?" He says, walking closer to Daario.

Daario "No, of course not-"

"Yes, Naharis..this is my husband, Ivar Lothbrok." Ivar looks at you, almost surprised that he did not hear Ivar the Boneless come from your mouth. But then again, he isn't surprised at all. He knows that you respect and love him more than anyone ever has.

Daario "Lothbrok..Hvitserk's brother-"

Ivar "I am me, myself and I..this is who I am." He says with open arms. Daario, does not know what to say. So you take it upon yourself and walk up to your love and lean into him for warmth.

"My love, can we go inside, it is getting cold?"

Ivar leans down and kisses your forehead softly, "Of course, my love. Come on, let's go." He takes one look at Daario before leading you into the palace. Hvitserk stays outside with Daario to make sure that the young girl stays away from you.

Daario "How the hell did he get here?"

Hvitserk "What? Are you stupid?" Daario does not respond, "His horse!" He points at Ivar's horse and carriage.

Daario "He said "thank gods..I made it" what does he mean by that?"

Hvitserk "Us vikings have these visions that we get pretty frequently. They foretell our futures. Whether it be near or far into the future, we can see it. Good and the bad."

Daario "So you are telling me that Ivar had a vision of the young girl, killing Y/n?"

Ubbe "On the contrary," he says, coming up from behind his brother, "I had the vision."

Daario "huh..and you are?"

Ubbe "Ubbe Lothbrok, and you are?"

Daario "Daario Naharis, the leader here."

Hvitserk snickers, "Barely a leader Naharis." He let his head fall but he did not let his smirk fade.

Ubbe "I see. So you will be watching over this place when the queen is gone aye?"

Daario "That is right."

Ubbe "Mm, good. Then I am glad that I could come and meet you in person before Y/n returned home to us." He says as he gets into Daario's face, "I will say this once, if you do anything to cause destruction or chaos to this kingdom, I will make sure that you pay for ruining the kingdom that my sister is trying so hard to repair. And secondly, if you ever do anything to harm or cause my sister any ill will, I will make sure that whatever you did to her, I will do the same to you but you won't make it out alive, are we clear?" Daario simply nods, "Good." He sniffles and pats his brother on the shoulder before leaving the two men outside.

Daario looks at a smiling Hvitserk, "Are all of you this friendly?"

Hvitserk "Oh, poor Naharis.." he walks closer to him so that he can whisper in his ear, "you just met the nicest one out of all of us." He pats Daario on the back before leaving him outside with his thoughts. And those thoughts, well, let's just say that he is more scared tonight than he has been in his entire life. He takes a look around him and sees Wessex flooding with Viking warriors. He gulps and rushes inside the palace, locking his chamber door behind him.

When you were finally alone with Ivar, you practically collapsed in his arms. He did the same, you both just fell to the floor and held each other so hard that you could hear Ivar's armor start to bend.

Ivar "Oh, my heart-"

"I have missed you so much." You look into his eyes and they were the bluest of blues.

Ivar "I have missed you more-"

"I did not know that I was so weak without you until I saw you.." his eyes sparkled, "When I saw you, it was like my life source just fled back into my body!" You force a giggle to lighten up the conversation. "You are my everything Ivar, you know that..yes?"

Ivar "Yes, my love. How could I forget your love for me? Y/n, when you were gone, I was nothing but a crippled man sitting on his throne." Your smile fades, "I need you just as much as you need me, my sweet. We are nothing without each other..I think that time has proven that, no?"

"No, you are right Ivar. I should not have stayed here this long, I'm sor-"

Ivar "No no no, do not apologize for being in your own kingdom Y/n. This is your kingdom, your first home. I expected you to stay as long as you did. But I am just glad that I have you back in my arms."

"You are my home Ivar. I am home when I am in your arms." He holds back tears and kisses you over and over again. Once his lips are on your own, the spark in your soul reignited. When your lips part, he smiles and rubs small circles on your cheeks, making you blush from the affection.

"I should say good night to my people, would you like to join me?"

Ivar "Of course, my queen." You both help each other up off of the floor and make your way down stairs, where you find Hvitserk and the rest of your people. You smile when your eyes lock to Hvitserk's, and once he had your attention, he silenced everyone.

"Today was eventful to say the least. But tonight was a surprise! For one, I almost died..again." you let your head fall but for only a second, "But thankfully, I am still here because of the Gods and because of Daario." He smiles and nods, "Thank you for saving my life tonight."

Daario "Always." He shouted just loud enough. Ivar did not like that, no. Nor does he like the way he stares at you from head to toe. That will be discussed tomorrow.

"And another surprise happened on this night, my beloved husband and king of Kattegat, has arrived!" Your people started to clap, making Ivar smile and bow a tad. "With that being said, I will be leaving Wessex in two days time. I belong with my husband, where he goes, I go. He is my true home." He takes your hand in his own when he hears you say those words to your people. His heart practically explodes in his chest. Hvitserk too, smiles as he saw his brother smile be so genuine.

"However, if any of you wish to speak to me, one on one, before I leave for Kattegat, please let me know. I will gladly talk to any of you. Good night everyone." They all shout their good night's and watch you and Ivar walk back to your chambers. Hvitserk walks up and makes his way to your chambers as well, waiting for his hug.

Hvitserk "Can't go to bed without my hug." He says with his long arms out for you to wrap your arms around his waist. Ivar smiles as he takes off his armor and made his way to the bed.

"Love you so much Hvitserk, thank you for protecting me tonight. I swear, I say that everyday, for that I apologize."

Hvitserk chuckles, "Do you ever not apologize, kitten?"

"Mmm, habit I suppose." You say as you look up at him.

Hvitserk kisses your head, "Bad habit to have love. I am glad that I am able to protect someone that I love. Now get some sleep, both of you."

Ivar "Good night, my brother."

Hvitserk "Good night."

"Sweet dreams." He smiles and walks out of the door and you shut it behind him. Ivar is in bed now, just waiting for you to be in his chest. He watches and admires your figure as you undress yourself. You know that he is watching because you can feel his eyes on your skin.

"Like what you see, do you?"

Ivar chuckles, "Like is not the word."

"Then what word would you use?"

Ivar thinks for a moment, "You are my weakness, my love. As soon as I see you, my desire for you is instant." You can feel your body temperature rise and the lust you crave is getting unbearable.

"So you desire me right now, hmm?" You say as you climb in bed, inches away from his face. "Even though I am as big as a whale?" He does not laugh like you do, he just grabs your face and holds you in the palm of his hands.

Ivar "You are carrying a beautiful human being in your core, Y/n. This is a miracle of life. A life that was expecting to not make it after all that you have gone through during this pregnancy. So do not call yourself a whale, you are the most beautiful woman that I have ever laid my eyes on...with child and without child. You are my wife, my queen, my every-" you crash your lips onto his before he could finish his sentence. He breathes in deeply with hunger, waiting for your lips to part so that his tongue can make its entrance. He gently rolls you onto your back so that he can be the dominant one.

Ivar "Now let me show you, just how much I have missed my queen." You breathe heavily with the anticipation. You watch him lower his body down to your core and your eyes roll back at first contact. Your fingers intertwine with his unbraided hair as he devours you. Once you reach your climax, your energy is completely spent. Ivar knew that your climax hit you hard, maybe too hard. So once he rises from his position, he rushes to your side before your head hits the pillow. He held you close and watched you fall asleep in his arms.

Ivar "Sleep well, my love. Tomorrow will be a good day." He whispers to you as he rubs your head, easing you into a soft and deep slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Ivar awoken with you in his arms. He does not know why, but when he awoke, he feared that you would not be there. He has realized that he has always had that fear ever since you were taken. But to his much relief, you are fast asleep in his arms. He kisses your skin, waking you in the kindest and most romantic way possible.

"Mmm." You hum, half asleep.

Ivar "Good morning, my sweetheart."

"It wasn't a dream after all.."

Ivar "It was real. I am here." Your eyes open then, looking at your handsome husband.

"I am so glad." He reaches down to kiss your lips before crawling his way out of bed. "It is early, stay in bed."

Ivar "Mmm, no can do."

"Why?"

Ivar "I have some business to take care of."

"This is Wessex, Ivar. Not Kattegat."

Ivar "Oh I am aware.."

"Then what business?" Ivar looks at you and you knew instantly by his facial expressions. His face can tell you stories that words do not necessarily have to be said. "This early Ivar?"

Ivar "Earlier the better, my love."

"Fine.."

Ivar "Hey," he struggles his way to you, "I am doing what any husband should do. I am sure that Hvitserk already had a talk to him, huh?"

"Of course he did...multiple times."

Ivar "My point has been made then. I will find you when I am done, I promise."

"Love you." You say as you watch him walk towards the door.

Ivar "So much." He said, then closed the door. You sink your body back down into the mattress for a minute or two before forcing yourself to get out of the warmth. You decide to leave your hair down today, with very little braids. Your dress of choice is a no sleeve one with dragon scales on the breasts. It is a very beautiful one at that. But the last time you wore this dress, you were not with child, still you wear it. It is tight but it is durable. You look down at your belly and hold yourself and sway your legs from side to side, while humming a lullaby. You can't stop thinking about the day that you will get to welcome your's and Hvitserk's daughter into this world. How beautiful she will be and how strong of a woman that she will become. She will make you proud, you just know it. And one day, you will find her dragon eggs so that she can have her own magical creatures. You have to do that task for your daughter, she deserves this wonderful gift, the only gift that your father gave you that gave your life new meaning. Then, when she is old enough, you and Hvitserk will give them to her as a birthday gift. Just as your father did for you, but you will do it with love, not as a strategy.

"You will live a long and happy life, my child. I promise." Just then, there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" You shouted. You watch the door open and a familiar figure appears in the doorway.

Hvitserk "Good morn- oh my.." he says once he took in your appearance.

"What is it?"

Hvitserk "Sorry I wasn't expecting you to be up this early..you just look so beautiful." You let your head fall to hide your blush.

"Thank you, Hvit."

Hvitserk "Of course, Kitten. How did you sleep hmm?" He said whilst pulling you into his chest.

"Very well, and you?"

Hvitserk "Probably not as good as you but it was not the worst sleep I've had."

"You did not sleep well?"

Hvitserk "Well not extremely well. I didn't have you in my arms for the first time in weeks, that's hard to readjust to." You nod because you understand completely. But instead of responding, you just look back down to your belly. Hvitserk gently grabs your growing belly and leans down to give it a bunch of kisses. You giggle at how much his scruffies tickle.

Hvitserk "How is our little princess, hmm?"

"She is well. I was singing to her a moment a-" you pause when she kicks inside of you, taking your breath away from how strong the kick was. Hvitserk had his hand right where she kicked, and felt the brute force with his own hands.

Hvitserk "Gods...are you alright?!"

"Uhm, fine. Just fine..wasn't expecting that is all."

Hvitserk "That was the biggest kick I have ever felt!"

"Me as well. She must be getting antsy..she must want out just as much as we do." He forces a chuckle and kisses where she kicked.

Hvitserk "Hey little one," he whispers to her, "Don't kick momma so hard, aye? She is fragile-"

"Hey.."

Hvitserk laughs, "okay, she is not fragile but she is special and you need to take it easy on her alright?" He pauses to kiss it again, "Everyone is excited to meet you, little one. Your mother and I especially. We love you so so much." He rests his head on you for a second, just in case she kicked again or to hear her heartbeat for a little while. Your eyelids get heavier as Hvitserk rests on you, and you hold his head on your belly. This is one of Hvitserk's favorite things to do, ever since you started growing, he would rest his head on you and awaits to hear the heart or wait for a kick. You remember his reaction when he felt the first kick. His eyes got big and his smile formed from ear to ear. Once it sunk in, he cried tears of joy, just as you did.

Hvitserk "You here?"

"Mm, yes of course. Just adoring this moment, aren't you?"

Hvitserk "Every moment with you, I adore. But I must say, I am going to miss these moments with you when our little one is born."

"I will miss this too. But when she is here, we can hold her together, play with her, teach her together. Isn't that exciting?!"

Hvitserk "Very exciting, love-"

"My queen, what would you like for breakfast?" A maiden asked.

"Oh sweet, it does not matter to me. Whatever you feel like cooking, I am sure that it will be delicious like always." She smiles and nods before leaving the room once again.

You sigh, catching Hvitserk's attention.

Hvitserk "What is it?"

"Ivar..he is going to talk to Daario."

Hvitserk "Is that where he has gone?"

"Yes."

Hvitserk "Should we go find them, or wait it out?"

"If we hear screaming, we go towards the scream.." he smirks, "but until then, let's just go eat hmm?"

Hvitserk "Sounds good to me kit." You smile and lead the way to the dining hall.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Ivar asks your people to find Daario for him, to make it easier on himself. So while he waited, he was thinking of how he would talk to this man. Will he be kind, will he be harsh? We shall all find out together.

"King Ivar.." he got up from his seat and started walking towards the maiden when he saw a man in the doorway, "Leader Daario is here."

Ivar "Uh huhh.." he says as he pauses right before him.

Daario nods, "You wished to see me, Ivar?"

Ivar "Yes, please..would you join me?" He nods and walks where Ivar pointed. He waits for Ivar to stand in front of him to speak.

Daario "So what is it that you wanted to speak about?"

Ivar chuckles, "My wife, of course!" He said in a high pitched voice to be dramatic. "You see, I have only been here since last night and I can already hear your thoughts, Naharis." Daario's mouth opens and he is stunned by what he is hearing. 'How can he know my thoughts' he asked himself.

Ivar "I am aware that my brother Hvitserk has already spoken to you, yes?"

Daario "Yes-" he clears his throat and tries again, "Yes. He has, on a few occasions."

Ivar "Mm. That is good, hmm?" Daario does not answer, "I suppose that my brother made it very clear that if you ever did any harm to her or this kingdom, well..you know you would not survive..don't you, Naharis?"

Daario gulps, "I bet that I would not-"

Ivar "Even if you ran, we would hunt you down until we found you in a ditch somewhere. Starving, dehydrated, clinging to life..but then that is when you would really suffer-"

Daario "I get it, Ivar. I have told your brother's that that is never my intent to harm y/n or this kingdom. I am simply here to guide, nothing else." Ivar's nose rises in a cocky way.

Ivar "Hmm. But that is not completely true, is it?" He does not answer, "Everyone who can see, can see your fantasies about my wife."

Daario "I will admit to you, I have had thoughts but that was before my life got threatened every day.."

Ivar "I see," he said with a smirk, "but you have to take things from our perspective, aye? Picture this Naharis, you are married to Y/n and she goes back to her home and leaves you to stay in your own kingdom, and she writes letters to you stating, your brother is very weary of the man that is supposed to lead her people. Lastly, your other brother tells you of his vision where you lose everything that you have ever loved. And once you get here, you see your wife but then you see the man behind her, staring her down like she is a fresh meal." He said with anger and hatred in his voice. Daario knows that he is not wrong. He has very strong feelings for you, to which he can never act upon because that would be a death wish.

Daario sighs, "I see your point, and my sincere apologies." Ivar nods, "You know..you're not as evil as people think you are, Ivar."

Ivar snickers evily, "No, I'm much worse." He said and then started to walk towards him even closer. "If you find me kind, think twice Naharis. This is your warning from me, you have been warned by my brothers, so this was my own warning. My wife is a kind and gentle soul who is the most powerful queen that you will ever bare witness to. She is a mother of dragons, carrying my child. Shall I go on..?"

Daario "No-"

Ivar "Shh…" he puts his hand in the air for Daario to silence himself, "Someone is watching us." He turns around and find you coming into the room with Hvitserk and two guards close behind.

"Hello, beloved. How has you two's talk been going?"

Ivar "Ahh my sweet, very well I think." You smile and then look at up at Daario who looks like he is about to projectile vomit.

Daario "Yes, very well, my queen."

"Good, that is good to hear. Now since my boys have talked to you, I figured that it would be my place to do the same-"

Daario "Are you serious-?!"

Hvitserk "Let your queen speak Naharis!" He shouted.

"Look, I mean no ill will towards you. Men like you are all the same: eager for power, perverted in the eyes of women, and puts himself before others..but that last one is not quite true for you, Daario. You treat my people very well, and I appreciate that very much, I do. But I see your eyes linger from woman to woman in this kingdom, one being myself and for that, I cannot allow. Sadly, I cannot be two places at once so here is my warnings: if you ever harm anyone in this kingdom, whether that being violently or sexually, I will have you skinned alive. If you ever endanger my people, I will throw you in the darkest, most horrid kingdom to my knowledge. I may be kind to those I love, but if you cross me, I will make my father's legacy look like child's play." Ivar looks at his brother like 'Holy Shit!' making Hvitserk chuckle a bit.

"Now I like you Daario, or else I would have not chosen you to lead my people when need be. But as a queen, I need to set rules and boundaries. You understand?"

Daario breathes out, "Yes, of course."

"Good. I hope that things have been cleared and the air can be lighter between all of us here. I only want happiness in my kingdom, no hatred."

Daario "No hard feelings, my queen. But can I speak now?"

"You can." Ivar tenses up and gets closer to you.

Daario "I accept every word that you all have said to me. I cannot say that any of you are wrong." He forces a defensive laugh, "I can speak for any man or woman that you carry a beauty that is unique. When I first saw you, I have to admit, I had thoughts. But I promise you that that will never happen again. I care for you, my queen. You carry a special presence within you that is hard to find. And for that, I would never disobey you or cause you nor your people any harm whatsoever. You put your trust in me Y/n, I won't let you down."

"I believe you." Hvitserk calms down and lets his hand fall from his sword.

Ivar "I do not. Until you prove yourself a loyal and noble man."

Daario "I accept that. You are her husband, I respect you." Ivar nods. "And for you Hvitserk?"

Hvitserk "I just want the best for Y/n and her people. The thought of someone ruining it after everything she has done to try to save it, infuriates me. I try not to hate you, Naharis. But you are foreign to us. We know your past and your intentions but only the gods know what your true intentions are."

Daario "I can't prove myself any more than I already have. I saved her life-!"

"You did. And for that, I now trust you more than I did when I arrived." He smiles and nods.

Daario "And I would do it again."

Hvitserk "As for my opinion on you, I think that you are genuine, but you are perverted." Daario shakes his head and chuckles.

Daario "Okay, fine. Call me whatever you'd like, anyone who knows Y/n can tell you the same thing that I told you here today. She is very beautiful-"

Ivar "She is indeed. But that does not allow you to act out on your fantasies."

Daario "I told you that I would not."

Ivar "Then we can move forward, yes!?"

"Yes, my love..breakfast is ready. Come join me and Hvitserk!"

Ivar "I'd love too."

"Daario, you are welcome to join us at the table."

Daario "Thank you, my queen." You nod and take Ivar's hand as you walk out the door. Daario swallows deeply, trying to hide his fear as he sits down at the table filled with Viking warriors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meal went well, no one went back and forth over today's discussion which pleased you. You finally feel lighter and that the matter at hand has been taken care of. Now, you can go home tomorrow with a clear state of mind.

Ivar "You are looking forward to coming home to Kattegat?"

"Mmm, more than you can know."

Ivar "Really?" You nod, "But why? This palace is luxurious, spotless even. More than I can offer you at home."

"Have you forgotten that I ran away from this place and came to you for sanctuary?"

Ivar smiles, "No."

"Kattegat is my home. It has been for over a year since I came to you Ivar. We've been through a lot together haven't we?"

Ivar "A little too much."

You giggle, "But it all made us stronger my love. We made it through it all and here we are..I'm home and you're with me! My daughter will be born any day now and that day will bring us all so much joy!"

Ivar "Oh so joyus!"

"I love you Ivar. You are my home and tomorrow we will go home to Kattegat!"

Ivar "I love you, my sweetheart."

"And I you." Daario smiles as he overhears yours and Ivar's conversation, to which Uvar notices. Ivar notices everything.

Ivar "What is it?"

Daario "Nothing, its just..you look good together. Odd. But good." You look at Ivar and he simply smiles.

You both, "Odd is perfect."

@astrape-the-weatherwitch

@heavenly1927

@youbloodymadgenius

@hvitserkmarcosource

@ivarsgoddess

@saldelys

@readsalot73

@houseoftoomanyfandoms

@dreamycream17

@a-mess-of-fandoms

@nevlahhh

@krissydclayton93

@conaionaru

#alex hogh andersen #vikings #hvitserk #ivar the boneless #marco ilsø #ubbe lothbrok #hvitserk lothbrok #the battle between love and fire

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jjofalltrades · 4 years

Photo

ARYA x GENDRY WEEK : Family Traditions

@aryaxgendryweek

Thank You -

According to school gossip, the new student was from Flea Bottom, who gained enrollment through a scholarship. People whispered about the patches on his uniform trousers and his shaggy black hair. Mr. Lannister placed him in the seat next to her when Joffrey complained about the smell. The first thing she noticed was the stitch on his blue blazer because it was a slightly different shade. The old lion had it out for the boy, scrutinizing him for being ill-prepared for his first day. It was a crime; one punishable had the teacher been a peer. No one appeared keen on interfering until she scooted closer and offered they share her textbook.

At the end of class, Arya handed him the book to take home for the night. Reluctant, he stared between her and it. As if it were a trick, he snatched the book and then rushed out. With his head bowed, he charged into the crowded hallway, much like a frightened bull. The other students rushed to move out of his way to make room, wasting more time on gossip.

They ran―well, she ran―into one another in the same hallway the next morning. The group of girls behind her scattered the moment his nostrils flared. When they were alone, he shoved the book at her, nodded, then stormed off in the opposite direction. The brunette thought him peculiar until a piece of paper stole her attention. Curious, Arya pulled the torn newspaper clipping and unfolded it to find broad, bold strokes written over the parchment.

Thank You

"Arya," she announced before class the same day. The new boy glanced around in question, which made her giggle. "Yes, you. I figured if we're going to be study partners this semester, we should at least get introductions out of the way, don't you think?" She held out a hand. "I'm Arya, and you are...?"

He swallowed with some difficulty, staring at her hand as if it was some foreign alien object. When he did lift his gaze to her face, a pair of the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. That was saying something given the Tully genes among her siblings. "Gendry," the boy whispered and cautiously shook her hand.

"Welcome to King's Landing Prep, Gendry."

Arya placed the textbook at the edge of his desk to share again today. She only let go of his hand once she slid in the seat next to him, deciding not to push her luck too soon.

Check Yes or No -

Every day of school for the last two years, Arya and Gendry made it a habit to pass notes between classes. It was an easy and simple way to brighten the other's mood or keep up-to-date with what happened throughout the day. Sophmore prom was around the corner, and she knew exactly how she wanted to ask her best friend. If they waited for Gendry to make a move, they'd be stuck in the friendzone until one of them died. Besides, modern problems required modern solutions, and she wasn't afraid to flip the tables on proper social etiquette.

Since they didn't share a lunch period this semester, she bribed one of the lunch ladies to slip the invitation on his tray with his favorite sandwiches. He would have a few hours to process the request and have a response by Chemistry. Though, a public romantic gesture by their lockers before then wouldn't be a bad idea, either. But, of course, Gendry was not one for anything that would draw attention.

A bundle of nerves followed Arya throughout the day until he quietly sat beside her at the lab table. Not a single word was spoken, no note, no sign. She wasn't the type to doubt her actions, but he didn't even acknowledge her! That had to be a bad sign, right? When the bell dismissed them, her shoulders sagged in disappointment. Gendry slid his textbook in front of her, half of the invitation stuck out. Excitedly, Arya ripped the invitation open. Neither option had a mark as expected; yet, he had added choices of his own at the bottom.

Prom? Check Yes or No

Friends or Couple?

She glanced up at him to see that he was every bit as nervous. Arya pulled out a red pen and circled the second choice with a dramatic twirl. The tips of Gendry's ears burned red, and he tried to contain the smile from reading her response. He leaned forward, taking the red pen, and added a checkmark on top of the first choice above. After, he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and tried to run off.

"Excuse you," she caught the tail of his blazer and tugged him back. Her new boyfriend swung around, confused by the offense. Arya grinned, stood on tiptoes, and pecked him on the cheek. Heat spread from his ears down to his cheeks. "Walk your girlfriend to the next class?"

Gendry's smile broke from its usual tight-lip style, the corner of his eyes and mouth crinkling. He was a handsome brood, but she decided this was her favorite expression. Their fingers entwined, and together they became the school's latest and hottest gossip.

Marry Me -

"Ah, this is where you ran off," a pair of strong arms wrapped around her middle. The sudden heat kept the chilly air at bay while they stood on the empty balcony. "Isn't there a rule against the guest of honor disappearing during their party?"

The music and laughter from the large crowd continued despite Arya's presence. Now that the speeches were over and the cake cut, no one cared. Let them drink, dance, and be merry. She mustered enough energy to caress his exposed forearms where he'd rolled the sleeves to his black dress shirt. "Our party," she corrected and leaned into his chest with a heavy sigh. "Exhausted, to be honest. Should have known mother had something planned. Had I known, I'd have skipped town after the graduation ceremony."

"We'd have skipped town," Gendry squeezed gently. "No way in all seven hells I would survive this much attention without you."

She smirked. "You've gotten better. Everyone enjoyed your speech today. It looked like your mother cried."

"That's cause she got the university's latest bill," he chuckled until she elbowed him. Gendry kissed her shoulder. "Nah, mum's happy for me."

It was no secret that many people doubted the boy from Flea Bottom for the past decade. Determination and wits helped him prove them wrong. Arya turned in his hold and wrapped her arms around his neck. She raised on her tiptoes. "I am, too, you know. Proud of you."

He held her close, lifting her just barely off the ground to make the innocent kisses more comfortable. Something might have started between them if she hadn't groaned. Scared that he hurt her, Gendry pulled away.

"I was thinking of all those gifts we'll have to try and fit into our apartment," Arya almost whined.

Gendry relaxed and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You haven't even opened mine yet."

She lightly slapped at his chest. "We said no presents!"

"Well, I already had this one. Tough luck."

From behind his back, he revealed a rectangular box wrapped in an old newspaper. "Where did you have that hiding." she ignored it for a moment to lean in and investigate how he could've hidden anything for that long. He rolled his eyes and swatted her away.

"Just open the damn thing."

Arya eyed him suspiciously, then eagerly ripping the paper. "I remember the first note you gave me in high school," she giggled and handed him the loose paper. "Mr. Lannister's textbook? What-" Something stuck out from the pages of the book.

When she went to open it rather carelessly, an item dropped out from the middle. Gendry bent to capture it before it touched the ground. Arya's attention went back to the folded piece of paper and opened it to reveal one last question.

Marry Me?

Tears prickled her eyes as she gazed beyond the book to see Gendry still on his knee. The item in his hand a ring for her."I meant to propose two years ago, but then you suggested we go for our Master's Degree. We promised no big decisions until...and then we..." He started to trip over his words again as he used to when they were teenagers. "I love you," this time with more conviction. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember. There isn't a whole lot I'm certain about in life, except for you. Marry M-"

Book forgotten, Arya lept into him until the momentum pushed them to the ground. She began to pepper Gendry with kisses, punctuated by a tearful "yes" for each one.

Grandma -

This year for the holidays, the couple knew exactly how to break the news to their families. Each mother received a blank scrapbook with materials to fill the pages as time passed. As mothers were when older, both smiled gratefully at the gifts and started to set them aside. However, Gendry cleared his throat.

"We have the first page complete," Arya told them and gestured to the yellow and grey books.

Cat and Maria glanced at one another, curious to see if the other had any clue. They opened the cover and stared down. The room fell silent as those around them tried to sneak a peek at it. Cat gasped and reached for Maria's hand, then the screaming began.

The couple separated long enough to be congratulated by their family members. Rickon, who had not caught on to the excitement, picked up his mother's scrapbook.

Grandma

Below the colorful title was the ultrasound picture. His mouth formed an 'O' shape.

Good Morning, Mommy. Good Night, Daddy -

Elyana wrote her parents a note every day since she was old enough to hold a crayon. The tradition started because of her dad, who wrote to her mom while she slept. They had opposite work schedules in the early years, using what methods they could to make the distance more manageable. Dad would wake up with Elyana in the morning and got them ready for the day. Their notes were placed in mom's lunchbox in the fridge. At night, before mom went to work, and dad came home, the girls would return the gesture.

Good Morning, Mommy. Good Night, Daddy.

Even when their schedules changed again, and they were allowed to be a family more than the weekends or holidays, her letters addressed them the same. It was tradition, after all. Something familiar and safe to start and end the day. But what she was most fond of was lunchtime at school, when she would open her bag and spot letters of her own. Words of encouragement, affirmations, and promises Elyana knew they'd keep.

"Did you hear about the new student?" Her friend, Joy, leaned in and pointed across the cafeteria. "Heard they're here on scholarship."

#gendrya #arya x gendry #axgweek #family traditions #late as always #tried a new format style #friends to lovers #school sweethearts

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sweetest-honeybee · 4 years

Text

Wels and Hels Become Smol

This s what I’m counting as a ‘First Chapter’ but let me know what you think! I’ll write more if y’all like it :D

Summary: Tired of his evil clone, Wels asks Beef to make a new machine to pull Hels out of history. Though....It doesn’t really work that way. Some malfunctions cause a bit of de-aging.

TW: Smoke, sparks, the kinda stuff in terrible machinery. Also brief blood mention but overall not a very triggering chapter.

Characters: Welsknight, Helsknight, VintageBeef, Xisuma

Enjoy!

—————————

It was inevitable. At some point, Wels was going to go back up to Beef asking if by any chance he could get rid of Hels. And at some point, Beef was going to comply and create a whole new machine to test out on the knights. And at some point, Wels was going to drag Hels out of his dimension to use the machine and Hels was going to dread losing his body that he only just got a couple weeks beforehand.

So, that’s where they were now. Underground in Beef’s testing room while Wels discussed the instructions with Beef and how the machine worked, which it probably wouldn’t. Hels on the other hand just sulked against the wall with his arms crossed. He had no sword, no armor, a wrapped arrow wound on his arm from having to be forced down there after being held at bow point.

Beef really wasn’t all too excited if he were being honest. Mostly since he didn’t have a lot of faith in the machine working but surely if he reversed some settings here and there, Hels would disappear and the Hermitcraft server would have one less evil doppelgänger to worry about. Though, his cloning machine was technically successful and Hels really hadn’t done any harm since he just stayed in his dimension. There wasn’t really a need for this.

But, either way, it came down to Wels, who made it very clear that he held such a distaste for his evil counterpart. That being said, Beef instructed both knights to step inside the machine at the same time holding a clock. Really, he intended for it to work like a time machine but without Wels going back in time. Essentially, if it was going to work, he would be able to pick and choose what did and didn’t happen on the day Hels was created and thus Hels would disappear and the whole thing would be forgotten.

Reluctantly, Hels shuffled inside the glass tube connecting from the ceiling to the floor with Wels and snatched the clock from the patiently waiting Beef outside of it. Weld rolled his eyes but who was he to judge. He certainly didn’t want to be erased from history more than Hels did but it had to be done if the evil hermit had ill intentions for their lovely server.

“And you’re really sure you wanna go through with this?” the butcher clarified before he handed Wels his clock. A bit of guilt emerged with what he was about to do, but again, it was Wels’s decision.

Wels hardly hesitated with his answer. “Yes, I do. If Evil Xisuma can escape banning then I’m not risking anything.” The knight eyed his counterpart as he said it, only earning a hard glare in return.

“You were better off just killing me,” Hels replied with a sneer. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Beef shrugged, handing Wels his clock. He took a last glance at Hels who made an obvious commitment to avoiding eye contact. Before the butcher could really dwell on it further, he shut the iron door on the machine and moved behind a newly mined out area in the back of the room. Thick layers of glass separated it from the machine for the sake of his own safety and redstone connected to a leaver trailed from the machine through a small hole by his feet.

“Alright, you guys ready? And again, Wels, you’re absolutely positively 100% sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” both knights dragged.

Beef sighed. “Okay, here we go then.”

The butcher took the lever and flipped it, almost kind of surprised that it even turned on. Lights and buttons on the wall flashed periodically, the smooth whirring noise lasted more than five seconds, and neither of the knights expressed any unusual discomfort from what he could see. Good signs, that meant that he could open the control panel and begin removing Hels.

Though, he must’ve spoken too soon when the whirring began becoming choppy, sparks replacing its paused seconds. Where the sparks came from, bits of smoke emerged and the moment the other two saw it, they, even Hels, sent Beef very worried expressions.

The malfunctions continued when various beeping voiced from the machine and the clouds of smoke grew larger.

“Ohh….that cannot be a good sign,” Beef muttered, pulling his hands to his hair. Admittedly, he should’ve just shut off the machine but he was too busy freaking out.

“Uh, Beef?” Wels began, his voice sounding muddled from the loud sounds in the room. Yet, Beef could hear him. The knight pointed at his clock. “I don’t wanna assume but I don’t think this was supposed to happen!”

That earned a smack upside head from Hels.

“Just give it a second I think it’ll figure itself out!” Beef decided, still ignoring the lever beside him.

“Oh for the love of- I’m breaking out!” Hels announced. Before his fist even made it to the glass, every light in the room shut off with a loud crack, the machine shutting down with it and the sound of shattering glass.

Startled, the butcher covered his face, only peeking through his fingers when all he heard was silence. No snarky comment from Hels, no attempt at an uplifting comment from Wels. He pulled his hands from his face, trying to look through the thick layers of smoke in the room on the other side of the glass. He couldn’t see the figures of either knight and at that moment, he began panicking, wondering if he had just erased both of them from history all together.

Quickly, he ran into the clouded room, glass crunching under his feet, muttering curses along the way. The entire tube was no longer there, just in shards on the floor. He waited for a second, watching the smoke thin a little more before continuing. Thankfully, some light from the doorway emerged, casting yellow rays into the room. Beef squinted into the used-to-be machine with the new source of light, seeing two much much smaller figures, not hardly a block and a half tall. One stood, wobbling for a second, then falling into the glass from tripping on a wad of something beneath its feet.

And at that moment, Beef heard a child crying.

Oh, oh no. Oh no, no, no, no.

He took off his apron, using it to fan away the smoke. He crouched down near the little figure, letting the light do its work for him. The crying continued, then another child’s cry began and now both of them were crying. As the smoke cleared, two of the smallest toddlers he’d ever seen looked right at him. Sets of the biggest, bluest and reddest, tearful eyes rested on him. The blue eyed toddler notably was covered in scratches from his fall onto the ground.

“Oh my….Wels?” He looked at the red eyed toddler. “Hels?”

For some reason, that only made the blue eyed one, which he’s now assuming is Wels, cry again. Probably since Beef was looking on the brink of a lot of external panic. Hels followed suit, sniffling and then choking on a high pitched sob. The butcher rushed to soothe the both of them, picking them up and moving them upstairs- noting how they were too small for their adult clothes and were now naked. They coughed and choked on the leftover smoke through their tears and that really just made him feel worse.

Finally upstairs, he opted to put the two in the animal farm room. He sat them down on the sandstone and it took a few seconds to get them to release their hands from his shirt. Hels complied, calming down to sniffles and moans. Wels on the other hand didn’t let go. The little knight simply tucked his face into Beef’s chest sadly.

“Wels, buddy, you need to let go so I can get the blood off of you, okay?” Wels moved his head, tilting it up at him. Who was he kidding, Beef’s heart melted at the little guy. Though, the snot running down his mouth was a bit of a pain since he now had it all over his shirt.

“Okay,” the toddler mumbled. Beef let out a sigh of relief, thank god he knew words. When did children even start speaking, he was unsure, but Wels understood him and that was all that mattered.

With that, he sat him on the floor next to his twin, Beef moving to grab some wool from the sheep for makeshift bandages. When he turned back from his crafting table, he found the knights staring at the pigs. Despite their still shared worry and obvious fear, they occasionally giggled at the pigs who squealed and oinked at them.

“That a piggy?” Beef tested. Just to see what they knew.

“Piggy,” the two said back to him. “Piggy, piggy, piggy, piggy, piggy!” At the word, they erupted into a fit of snorts and laughs, momentarily forgetting their previous moods. That was until Beef approached Wels with a bucket of water and the wool cloths.

“Be brave for me, okay? You’re a tough knight,” he ruffled the child’s hair and was pleased when he stuck out his legs to him. “Thanks, bud, won’t be more than a minute.”

With a patience he didn’t know a toddler could have, considering Wels didn’t hardly squirm away from his grip, he finished in no more than a couple minutes. He washed off the little knight’s knees while the other decided he was bored and went to stick his hands up in the glass pig pen. The butcher’s heart warmed at the sound of the little giggles from it when the pigs didn’t hesitate to lick his hand. Hels pulled his hand back with a squeal, grabbing his counterpart’s attention.

Wels pointed at the pigs, looking at Beef. “Piggy?”

“Sure,” Beef exhaled with a shrug. He left the knight to have his fun with his twin, and the pigs. Now, he needed to make them some clothes. Maybe armor? The thought of toddler sized knight’s armor made him chuckle to himself.

He went to the sheep, grabbing red and blue eyes from the chest. With haste, he sheered the newly died sheep of both colors and set off to the crafting table on the other side of the room while the boys moved to the cows. Sewing wasn’t hard, that was a skill he needed in survival. He knew how to make shirts so it was just like making tiny versions of those shirts and with leg holes and buttons. Easy onesies for the twins.

Momentarily, he was distracted by the two mimicking the mooing coming from the cows. He already knew that would get annoying very quickly.

Beef had a thought while he was making the onesies. We’re they potty trained? Did he need to make diapers as well? How on earth do you handle a toddler? Shaking his head, he opted to make some cloth diapers for the both of them, not wanting to be wrong if he guessed they were already potty trained. The last thing he needed was an accident.

Finishing the onesies and diapers, he whistled at the boys, catching their attention. He held up the onesies and they dramatically awed at his craftsmanship. Beef couldn’t help but to feel a bit of pride at that.

Eagerly, they stumbled up to him to put on their new clothes. One at a time, he clipped the diapers on the, with a safety pin. Then, he slid the onesies on the two and marveled at how they giggled at each other happily, poking at each other’s outfits. Gosh, it was so darn cute.

Now, the real question came to mind. What on earth does he do with them? He’s nowhere near fit for fatherhood at the moment and he needed a lot of alone time to fix that machine. He’d have to explain to Xisuma what happened, won’t he. He’s already imagining how that conversation would go. Hey Xisuma, I just turned two of your Hermits into children please help me. That would end in either utter confusion or laughter. Probably both, knowing the admin.

“Alright then,” he began. The knights looked up at him expectantly. “You guys wanna see Xisuma?” They tilted their heads in unison at the question.

“Is Suma?” Wels asked.

“Iggsooma,” Hels added, as if he were correcting his twin.

Beef grinned at their odd little relationship. “Yeah! Xisuma!”

He threw on his elytra from his inventory, dark wings spreading slightly behind his back. Again, the knights awed at him and he couldn’t help but to laugh. The butcher scooped them up into his arms, the two still weighing not nearly as much as he thought they would but working with sandstone was no easy task.

The trio made their way out of his desert village. He moved Hels to sit with Wels on his other arm so that he could fire off his rockets. As soon as he was in the sky, the knights were squealing with delight at the shrinking ground below them. It took no time to reach Xisuma’s jungle, but where the admin was right now, Beef actually had no clue. In chat, he said something about the iron farm so he flew into the landing bay on it.

Letting both toddlers down on the floor, he pulled out his communicator, letting his friend know that there was an urgent meeting they needed to have up there. It took no time for Xisuma to reply with a yes, much to Beef’s relief. Pocketing his comm, he turned to where the knights ran off to. Really, they were quite interested in the assortment of colorful shucker boxes laying on the floor.

Not to much of his surprise, he already heard another set of flapping wings landing on the bay.

“Alright then, what seems to be the- oh my goodness me.” Xisuma paused abruptly at the sight of the toddlers. Who he could only assume was Wels and Hels given Beef’s message. “Why are they children?!”

Ignoring his concern, they ran up to him happily.

“Suma!” the blond yelled.

Xisuma crouched down, meeting their height as best he could. They were just so small, he wouldn’t have ever expected this. They giggled at his silly looking helmet, the white feathers on the sides were certainly a sight to behold. He ducked his head to let them poke and prod as they pleased.

“Beef, what did you do?” the admin asked.

“Ah, long story. Wels created an evil doppelgänger of himself and in attempts to remove him with a new machine I made, I uh….” he gestured at the two. “That happened.”

“O….kay then. Well, what exactly do I do? I can’t really just change their ages through coding.”

Beef’s stomach sank. “You can’t?”

Xisuma chuckled at how Wels sat promptly in his lap, looking up at him with a snort. Hels copied him, sitting next to him. “Hm, no, I don’t believe so. You’ll need to fix that machine of yours.”

“Well, I uh, need alone time for that. I can’t take care of children at the same time.”

Xisuma nodded, wrapping his arms around the toddlers and standing, carrying both of them while they swung their legs. “Yeah, they’re adorable, I’ll admit, but I don’t have a place to keep em’ nor the time to look after them.” He walked over to Beef, plopping them in his arms. The other stumbled, concern spreading across his face.

“Who do I take them to, then?”

The admin tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I believe Cleo used to be a teacher in her older days, I think preschool might’ve been a part of that? If not, ask Stress or, I dunno, Joe? They seem fit for the task.” Finally, he shrugged. “Anyways, I’ll be off then. If there’s any trouble, you know where I am.” He waved, the knights waving back happily.

“Bye bye Suma!” they said. Xisuma laughed, nodding off to them before flying out of the landing bay. Beef in return huffed.

Why did Wels have to go through with such an idea.

#long post #my fic #welsknight #helsknight #vintagebeef #xisuma

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porcelain--roses · 4 years

Text

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑾𝑶: 𝑊𝐸𝐿𝐿, 𝐻𝐼 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸.

Angelique rolled her eyes, her annoyance manifesting itself in a heavy sigh that escaped her scarlet lips.

‘Listen, Damian—’

‘Derek, ma’am,’ her assistant — and intruder — interrupted.

‘𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳,’ the witch gnarled. ‘Do you think it’s excusable to come disturb me about “a group of eccentric hippies passing Collinsport”, as if that weren't an everyday event?'

She waved her hand in the air and returned to the files to which she had been tending before Derek, the moron, decided to come into her office yapping. ‘Now kindly scat. I’m in the middle of something important.’

‘Well, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 eccentric hippies seem to have decided to stay a while,' the man insisted. 'It seems they have been around the extremities of town for the last couple of days – a few RVs parked up next to each other.’

Angelique stopped in her tracks. 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 in Collinsport was odd news to say the least; people barely cared about visiting the town -- why would anyone be interested in moving there?

She finally eyed her assistant attentively, resting her chin on her clenched fist and quirking her eyebrows.

‘𝑶𝒉? Fresh meat, yes?’

The young man nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am. No one had ever seen them before.’

'Interesting,' Angelique muttered, nodding distractedly for a couple of seconds. ‘Well then,' she said, grinning, as she started from her seat, maybe I should pay our new neighbours a visit.’

𝘛𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, she added in her mind.

‘I'm sure a friendly little welcome won’t hurt.’

________________

The woman sat with her face stuck in a frown, poking at the remnants of last night’s fire.

“Another disappointment.”

It seemed that all that Collinsport had to offer her crew was more stories and local haunts— and that goddamn smell of fish.

Anyone who could’ve testified firsthand to the atrocities committed long ago seemed dead or forgotten.

How very odd, Rose thought to herself.

But as she sat in the summer’s heat, a shadow appeared, coming between her and the sun. “Back so soon from the grocer, Daddy?”

His Shine was a bit more powerful today, she thought. But of course, everyone had their good days... even her.

Curious to the occasion, she looked up. “𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍... 𝑯𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.”

________________

"𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘳, 𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺?"

The blonde gave out a low chuckle. That wasn't exactly the way to which she was used to introduce herself.

'I'm afraid 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 hasn't really come from the grocer,' the witch mocked, her eyes fixed on the mysterious figure.

She came closer. The brown-haired woman was hauntingly beautiful, and the eyes beneath the obnoxious hat, the bluest she had ever seen.

𝑰 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆, she thought.

'I'm sure you've mistaken me for someone else.' She offered the woman her hand. 'Angelique Bouchard. 𝘐 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵.'

________________

Rose laughed at her mocking banter, nipping at her bottom lip as the woman introduced herself.

With Bouchard’s hand graciously extended, Rose made a bold decision to 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆— instead, using her own weight. And once standing, she took in the figure standing before her.

Bleach blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and of course— a pinstriped suit that plunged further than most would dare to look. Of course, Rose did. She admired a power-suit... that is, one accompanied by an equally powerful woman.

Yes, Bouchard seemed up to par for the task.

“So you’re in charge of this little haunt? I do hope you haven’t received any complaints, 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔(?) Bouchard. Me and my 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 were just curious to the stories of this place.”

Surely the woman emanating Shine like an exploding star could tell her a story or two.

________________

The stranger's refusal to take her hand astounded Angelique, but she could not deny that the irreverence amused her.

She retreated her palm, eyeing the other woman from head to toe. 4

'That I am,' she responded. 'But I must admit I know nothing of these "stories" you mention.'

She hoped the deceitful tone of her words would pass unheeded.

'Anyway, I stopped by to bid you welcome, really.' A devilishly beautiful but menacing smile crept upon her lips as the blonde reached out to gently touch the other woman's arm.

Angie knew of her power of persuasion, and she liked to make the most out of it. She loved to see people giving in to her charms; which, of course the blue-eyed stranger would, too.

𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆?

'I'm afraid I haven't got your name.'

“That’s because I never gave it, ” was Rose’s most casual reply, placing her own hand atop Angelique’s.

With a polite squeeze, she wiped it off, eyes penetrating the blonde as if she were her next meal. “But if you’re so keen to welcome me to your humble town, I suppose you could ask me over dinner.”

A chance to spend some time alone with her next victim? Oh, Rose could hardly contain herself. So very rarely did they waltz up to her like this.

Not since 1852.

Angelique quirked an eyebrow, eyed the mysterious woman from head to toe, and scoffed amusedly.

The stranger’s petulance was rather entertaining.

‘Dinner,’ she muttered. ‘Well, why not? Seven o’clock tonight at my place, shall we?’ She smiled stiffly.

The witch either had too much to lose or nothing at all, but the latter option seemed more like it. After all, Angie couldn’t possibly come across anyone half as powerful and menacing as her, right?

The tilt of Rose’s head seemed wholly amused ( or somewhat flattered ) by the woman’s gesture. More-so by the permanent smile resting upon her newfound companion’s face.

“Should I assume we are dining alone, Miss Bouchard?”

That didn’t seem mildly suspicious at all.

But her thoughts were soon interrupted by the sights of the others. True Knot’s most devoted member (besides herself), Crow Daddy, stood in front of the rest.

Ignoring him, Rose returned to Angelique�� grin partly interrupted by a newfound look of worry.

Had they noticed too?

The blonde took a small step back when she noticed the eerie figures surrounding her and her new acquaintance. They did not look friendly — but Angie was never one to back down.

Especially not from newcomers in 𝑯𝑬𝑹 town.

Tilting her chin up, she shook the feeling of threat off, but the pearly smile was gone from her lips.

‘Unless you’d like your friends to join us,’ she purred as she glanced back at the brunette. ‘I suppose that’s... 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚?’ she taunted, eyeing the man who led the others.

Rose 𝒅𝒊𝒅 feel a tinge if embarrassment at the nickname she deemed her... 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓— as evident by the widening of her eyes as it escaped those pillowy lips.

“I’m sure I could escape them for a few hours,” she said, stepping forward to return the distance that had previously been between them.

“In fact— I would request that you 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕 that much, Miss Bouchard. I might dread any one of them 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 you from me.”

Especially if they had already detected her Shine.

But a grin had returned to her face, trying to save the moment with a final burst of charm.

“What do you say? Would you have me all to yourself?”

Angie easily recognised the tinge of flirt in the woman's words, but remained unfazed — even though on the inside she was savouring every bit of it.

She bobbed her head:— 'I think some 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒄𝒚 would do us good, yes.' A side smirk crept on her lips in spite of her wishes.

And speaking of privacy, the witch had no desire to let the meddling, ill-looking people around them know her address, and so she stepped closer to the stranger, leaned into her ear, and whispered slowly,

'My house is the only mansion in town. You shouldn't have much trouble finding it -- but if you do, just ask around for what was formerly known as the 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒔 residence.'

And then she simply walked away, not a single glance back.

________________

The way she walked away was with such confidence... it was hard to dismiss the small swing in her hips.

Yes, the blonde was certainly proud of herself, wasn’t she? Alas, there was no time to dwell on that, as her posse soon accompanied her.

“Who was that?”

“An acquaintance,” Rose replied in a rather innocent lilt. It was hardly a lie, that was for sure.

“She seemed full of 𝒊𝒕...”

“Hush, Crow.”

Unfortunately, her dark-haired companion didn’t take so kindly to this, taking Rose to the side and grasping her hand as if it was a threat.

( Even Grandpa Flick seemed to kiss his teeth in disapproval. )

“You’re not holding out on us, are you Rosie?”

“Of 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 not. You think I’d let all of us starve for some city bitch in high heels? I want to know if there are more of them here.”

He didn’t seem wholly satisfied with her answer, but it didn’t matter. Rose jerked her hand from his, stomping off to her RV.

“𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆...”

“I’ll drain that damn Shine from her fighting corpse when the time is right, but not before I get the information that 𝑰 want.”

The door slammed behind her, rushing to the sink to wash her face. After all, the Irish Rose would need to present her best side tonight. She’d need to be ready for whatever the evening brought.

And since it seemed like it would be a rather formal dinner, it was eventually decided that she could ditch her overtly Bohemian style for one night.

Searching her small closet, she fingered through every skirt until she reached a deep blue suit with a satin collar.

“Power suits,” she mumbled to herself.

“I do wonder if Miss Bouchard is accustomed to being the 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 big fish in her little pond. Such a 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 little thing... but a damn good waste.”

________________ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ༄

#rose the hat #doctor sleep #angelique bouchard #dark shadows #eva green #rebecca ferguson #f/f #femslash fic #crackship #crossover #roleplay #chapter two

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highflyingrayson · 4 years

Text

@corvidamned

Another night, another patrol. One may see that as nauseatingly repetitive, but for Robin, it was a new adventure every time. The villains would have new schemes, the logic behind their plans were always astoundingly bizarre and yet almost all of them had some sort of reason behind their madness that would occasionally cause him to question himself. Was it right to do this? Was it he and Bruce that were the true bad guys?

He wasn’t allowed much more time to ponder as his thoughts were halted by the booming voice of Batman. They had arrived and he had not a single recollection of the drive. No matter. He was being stationed to maintain surveillance over the Iceberg Lounge while his partner in crime went to investigate the disturbances nearby. Flying solo again, little bird.

Soft footsteps were muted by the hustle and bustle of the Lounge, per the usual on a weekend, and in the shadows he sat with a small tablet that had hacked into the camera system. The bar, the guests, the office, the front and back doors, repeat. When was it going to get exciting? That was when he saw something.

A less than manly shriek leapt from his throat and he nearly chucked his tablet away. What in the bluest of blue hell was that?! Down from the roof he went, now both frightened and intrigued, to investigate that figure. Going off of the camera feed, it was somewhere inside the club. Of course it would set off alarms if Robin went in there and Dick Grayson was too young to go in, so he had to get creative. Taking his cape and a few objects off his utility belt, he crafted a disguise of a waiter, not a very believable one, but a disguise nonetheless.

Into the back room he went, standing up straight to look at least a bit more believable. Everything seemed to be in order as he made his way into the club itself, carrying a tray up to the bar to ‘pick up drinks’. All he had to hope was that the bartender had an IQ of -2. This was a bad idea with, so far, no signs of succeeding. Especially when he accidentally locked eyes with the bartender.

He could feel his heartbeat in his ears as a chill overtook him, an unknown kind of fear rocking him to his core. If looks could kill, Robin would be in a pine box. It wasn’t of ill-intent, but more so of a seriousness they naturally held. Forcing himself to step up to the bar, he sputtered out his unrehearsed lie. “T-Table 7 is waiting on their, uh, their Jack and Coke.” A single droplet of sweat rolled down his brow. Don’t break, Robin, Everything is fine.

#IC - Boy Wonder No More

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jenovahh · 5 years

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Simple - Part 1

Summary: You've defeated gods, liberated nations, traveled across worlds...and yet you desire simplicity. Someone who simply loves you for you, who lives the simple life you dreamed of.

Your dreams lately, show that you are meant for something, and someone else.

ANONYMOUS ASKED: A situation where the WoL has a significant other, but starts getting vague flashbacks to Amaurot and being with Emet-Selch when around him?

Archive of Our Own Link

=============================================================

He means a lot to you.

Your Elezen (or rather Elven) lover is tall, handsome, sweet. His eyes are like the bluest of skies on a clear Coerthan day, smile as warm as a La Noscean sun. It is with a shaky voice and an outstretched hand that he offers you flowers, tied with a shimmering gold bow.

The Scions behind you are all in shock, watching as your steady hand reaches out for the bouquet. “These are...”

“A request for courtship...if you’ll have me.” His voice is trembling with nerves, hand jittering as your fingers brush against his own. Holding the flowers against your chest, you sniff lightly, their aroma pleasing without being overwhelming.

Looking up at the man, Audric, you remember, you smile and give your answer. “Of course.”

Audric was but a simple man of labor, able to repair your gear in record time. He had a lovely smile and an even lovelier voice, the sight of him working on your gear making your heart beat a little faster. Allowing him to court you seemed right; after all, when was the last time you had put yourself out there? Long enough ago, that you could not even remember.

He was normal. Not to say that you certainly didn't consider any of your fellow heroes unworthy of your hand, but you had come to respect them as your closest friends, more than anything.

Audric did not fight. He did not have the Echo, he did not lead, he did not rule. He was just a simple man, with a simple line of work, leading a simple life.

That’s what you wanted, right?

It’s what you tell yourself, as you shyly let him hold your hand, smiling at the warmth that seems to still linger even as you go to defeat Titania. It is that warmth that drives you, as sappy as it sounds, to bring darkness to a man who has never known it.

“Why...hello there.”

Golden eyes meet yours, stealing what’s left of your breath away. You can barely hear his offer to ally with you over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, lost in another time, another place as something struggles to push through in the back of your mind.

“Are you quite all right, hero?”

His voice snaps you out of your daze as you realize he’s addressing you, looking between the Scions for fear of getting lost in his eyes again. “I’m well. Merely tired...from the battle.”

Unable to resist, you meet those cool, golden orbs, finding yourself lost within them. You gasp as you find the condescension within them gone entirely, replaced with only a knowing quality, almost expectant. “Rest well, hero.” he murmurs. “You’ll need it.”

His words seem innocent enough, but he does not seem to be a man who is not careful with his words. The sound of his voice rolls through your mind as you sleep, sounding familiar, oh so familiar...

Ever since you had arrived on the first, there had been a nagging feeling of being homesick, though it was not for the shores of Eorzea. There was a longing so deep that it almost made you feel ill, your eyes always turned toward the briny waters of Lakeland, as if you wanted to throw yourself into it's murky depths and never surface again.

“Darling?”

Turning around, Audric is before you, hand outstretched with a small fruit. “I’m sorry I was,”

“You have a lot to think of, I’m sure. You are an adventurer after all.” he smiles warmly, watching as you take the fruit from his hands. “I had managed to get some fruit from the local market...it is so rare these days...” he trails off, watching as you lift it to your lips.

Biting down, it is sweet, it’s flavor light and different from anything you tasted from the Source. “It’s really good.” you grin, taking another bite. Leaning in, you place a kiss on his lips, chuckling as he goes bright red in the face. “Thank you, Audric.”

“O-Of course!” he stammers, wringing his hands tightly in embarrassment. “Warrior...might you spare me another kiss?” His cheeks are tinted a light pink, eyes sparkling with affection as he waits for your answer.

“I suppose.” you grin cutely, allowing him to kiss you once more. It is as sweet on as the fruit you can taste on your lips, a smile on his face as he pulls away.

“Thank you, my love.”

“Anything for you, my sweet.”

Your hand is entwined with another’s, walking through a city with buildings towering so high you can hardly see the tops of them all. The hand holding yours is warm, warmer than anything you have ever felt, and it matches the same warmth you feel in your heart.

“I must repay your kindness, somehow,” you speak, before being shushed by the figure walking beside you.

“Your affection is enough, even on the coldest of days.” They whisper, as if it is but a secret between the two of you. “You must only voice what you need,” with a twist of their hand, a fruit is conjured from thin air, “and I will do my best to provide it for you.”

Your eyes slowly open as you pull yourself from what must be a daydream, meeting Audric’s concerned eyes. “Are you well?” he asks, hands clutching your shoulders. Looking down at the fruit in your hands, you silently take another bite. “I’m fine.” you murmur, missing the golden eyes looking at you from afar.

The daydreams become more common, and seemingly from nowhere as time goes on. They are never at an inopportune moment, seeming to mostly occur in your times with Audric. It is only as time goes on that you can stitch them together to realize they are memories, though they are not your own. The Echo must be resonating with someone, but who?

Why are golden eyes at the back of your mind?

“Lost in thought, Warrior?”

You let out a small noise of shock as Emet-Selch stands before you, his lantern slightly warm in your hand. “I’m sorry, I,”

He leers as he shushes you, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You had been gone for so long, your little group of misfits had begun to worry. I thought it best I seek you out, before you hurt yourself in your attempts to find your friend.”

His taunting makes you red at the face, arm hurling the aether lantern at him which he catches with ease. “Come now, Warrior. Is that any way to mistreat the gift I lent you so that we might pluck your friend from the lifestream? Need I remind you every moment that passes, our chances of saving her lessen.” The lilting sound of his voice just flusters you more, hands fisted at your sides as you can do nothing but glare at him. “Need I remind you how to whistle?”

“I know how to whistle!” you huff, baring your teeth at him. “I was just...thinking of other things...” you trail off weakly, somehow losing your steam whenever you look at him.

“Forgive me for doubting you, but I feel I require proof now. Go on and whistle for me, if you would.” The lamp disappears from his hands with a light pop, his eyes focused solely on you. You freeze up suddenly with performance anxiety under his steady gaze, seeing an eternity in those eyes.

You’ve been lost in them before.

“Why do I...” you whisper, making no moves to keep him away as he comes closer.

“Perhaps, a demonstration will help.” The silk of his glove is soft as he catches your chin in his hand, his grip on your waist firm as his arm pulls you close. “Simply purse your lips together...” His head dips, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss.

You freeze for a moment, brain slowly processing the feeling of the Ascian's lips on yours. It feels wrong. It feels strange. It feels...

Divine.

You press back into him with fervor, gasping as he nips your bottom lip with sharp teeth, giving him the entrance he needs to ravish you further. He greedily drinks down your moan, arm pulling you painfully tight against him as your hands link around his neck. Pulling apart, you gasp for air, his lips kissing at the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your neck. Your mind is in a daze, the feeling of wanting to break free stronger than it has ever been, as if something within you is reaching for the man currently ravishing your neck.

So, you push him away.

He is only moved because he allowed it, this you know. A man with powers that he has is not moved unless he wants to be. You try to find it within yourself to be angry at him; for sneaking up on you like that. It is with disgust that you can find no one else to be angry at besides yourself.

“I find that was a suitable demonstration...” his grin is devious as his fingers run over his lips, a smirk so satisfied it makes you want to throw yourself at him in rage.

“I...I already have a lover.” you grunt, turning to stomp off in the forest.

“Do you now?” he laughs, the sound twisted and grating. “I was not aware. Forgive me then, hero. I could not help but sate my...curiosity.”

Flushing red with shame, you turn around to look at him, as if a force wants to keep pulling you closer to him. His eyes haven’t left your form, roaming across you as a predator would it’s prey. “The aether lamp...may I...” you mumble, wringing your hands together.

“But of course, my dear hero!” he bellows, all theatrics. With a flourish, the lamp materializes in your hand, soft and warm. “Off you go, to find your little friend. Unless, you desired my company?”

Finding yourself unable to say no, you opt to say nothing at all and storm off into the forest. Distancing yourself from him should keep this feeling at bay, at least you pray that it does. You can only be glad that no one was around for your slip up, the guilt already gnawing at you as your tongue runs across your lips, remembering the taste of him. It was only a kiss, you tell yourself. It was only a kiss. Nothing that you had to come clean about.

“You seem very tense lately.”

How did it end up like this?

Looking from your place near the vanity, your eyes land Audric’s worried ones as he lays on the bed. “That is to say...more tense than usual. For someone as busy as you.”

There was barely any hiding your importance from Audric, with your constant need for repair and the company you kept. That you were the Warrior of Light, or rather Darkness remained a mystery to him, but even he could pick up on that you were someone important.

Placing your brush down, you move to join him in bed, slipping under the covers. “Things have been...hectic. With the Warrior of Darkness bringing night back to us and all.” you lie, tongue feeling like ash as you look at Audric’s dazzling smile.

“Isn’t it amazing? The night sky? Never in my lifetime...” he reaches out to bring you into his arms, and you let him hold you close, the scent of the soaps and oils from his earlier bath filling your nose. It’s pleasant, but you can’t fight the increasing feeling of how wrong it feels.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. It’s just wrong.

“I’m glad you-- I mean we, get to see what the stars look like.” You smile, the happiness of doing this one thing for him the only genuine feeling you have lately. You hate that you can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting more. You should be happy with him. He cares for you, finds you pleasing to the eye, treats you well...still, you are so unhappy.

“I already had an idea of what the stars look like. Ever since I had looked into your eyes.” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you gently. You quickly return the kiss, sharing a few more before he requests entrance into your mouth. Your groan of displeasure is taken as one of encouragement, his hands reaching for the hem of your tunic.

“W-Wait,” you breathe, catching his hands in yours.

The hurt in his eyes cuts like a knife, and you run through your head for an excuse. “I just...want to wait. I want to take things slow, I’ve never...” His eyes widen in understanding, an warm smile gracing his lips.

“I see. Forgive me for rushing you, my love. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Then what would you call this welt, forming on my arm this moment?” You pout, shoving your hand out at your offender.

The hooded figure leans over, taking your arm in their hands, pushing back your sleeve. Immediately your heart stops, feeling their skin on yours as they brush across your arm. “T-This is highly inappropriate,” you stammer, trying to pull your arm away but to no avail. “W-Wait,”

“Now, now, don’t get all shy on me. You thought to lie to me after all. Me, who bears the burden of truth.” His grip is firm, but you could break it if you really wanted, this you could tell. You make no moves to pull away as they bend to press their lips against your skin, as gentle as a summer rain. You yelp as they give a playful bite, finally gaining the courage to yank your arm from their grasp.

“Now, you will have a welt.” They laugh, even as you tackle them to the ground, their hood and mask falling from their head. “Forgive me,” they chuckle, nearly out of breath. Golden eyes stare back into your own, full of mirth. A single lock of silver hair grabs your attention. “I could not help but sate my curiosity.”

“You know me.”

#Emet Selch #Solus zos Galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Shadowbringers #my writings

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ateliefloresdaprimavera · 6 years

Text

Our Little Eden

Note :I refuse to accept that awful ending that Ryan Murphy created. So, this is my take on the event after Michael “dies”.

Thank you for all the wonderful authors out there” You guys are my inspiration!

English isn’t my first language, I apologize for my errors.

. . .

The first memory I have of my life are not pictures, but a feeling, so powerful that stood by me for my entire existence.

Loneliness

Not by abandon or negligence; my parents were always kind and caring with me. Our home was usually filled with relatives. They came and went all the time.

And yet, I always felt like I was the odd one out. Like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit.

And, in time, the other pieces started to make sense to me; not thanks to my doctors my mom insisted on taking me every week, or the daily exams my dad made me do.

“How can she already know how to read?”

“How does she know that, Margot? Chess is a tricky game, even for adults!”

“Where did she learn how to count? She can barely walk”

No. It was from the conversations I picked on when the adults were in the rom. That’s where I heard from the first time words such as “study”, “immaculate” and “conception”.

What did they meant?

It was from during that time strange people start to come to our house.

After they left, I remember sitting on my window’s balcony and look at each face; not a single adult was looking at me, their focus was on my parents. Talking as if I wasn’t present.

“She’s such a delicate little thing.”

But I saw them. Every single one. Inside out.

That was when I realized. I was nothing like them.

. . .

It happened at night. It was pouring and the noise my window was making when the wind crossed it seemed like an howl. Except that wasn’t what woke me.

It was the first time I dreamt of him.

A little boy, same age as me. He was alone, like me, crouching on the floor, next to a bed, playing with water. I wanted nothing more than to go and play with him.

“Hi” Silence.

“I’m YN. Do you wanna pla…” I stood beside him, getting a full view of the scene. It looked like he didn’t hear me.

“You…” my bile went straight up. TI still remember it: It wasn’t a pool of water he had under his hands. It was blood.

There was a dead puppy under the bed, and he was just starring at it, still as a statue.

I shouted and yet, he didn’t notice me.

I woke up kicking and screaming from the top of my lungs. When my mother came to me and I told her about the little boy with bloody hands, she dismissed me, like it was something normal.

“You’re a very special child, YN. There’s a lot going on inside that pretty head of yours.”

Except, this wasn’t my creation. That much I knew. Which is why I couldn’t sleep on that room by myself after. I sat on the ground and, on it’s darkness, I kept staring the night sky from my window.

I don’t know how long I was there, just that I wasn’t moving .My body felt frozen, still my mind seemed to float.

“It’s alright YN”

A voice, that was coming through me. Except, it wasn’t. It wasn’t like any voice I’ve ever heard.

At same very same moment, a flash cut the sky and, if I had looked behind me ,I’d see a shadow of two silhouettes on my back.

. . .

I don’t like people.

No, that’s not true. I do. I’m just not interested on them.

That was much certain to me when things started to change.

To me was like an invisible pull and a whispering, showing me what people wanted me to do.

The first time, I was playing on our backyard while dad worked with the chainsaw. He fell, and when I got close enough, his body was in a weird position.

“Daddy?” That was my first contact with death.

”Help him” It said “You can help him YN”

My hands were drawn to his wounds and, instantly, it closed.

“You did good” the voice said.

But that was not what my daddy told me.

“What did you do girl?”

. . .

People are hungry.

No matter how much they have, still is not enough.

I could help people.

I wanted to help them.

Until, I didn’t anymore.

From terminal illness, wounds, broken limbs, to venereal diseases and paper cuts.

It was never enough for them.

My parents opened our doors 24/7 to strangers. And they just couldn’t stop coming.

“A gift” that’s what they called it “Must be shared”

I was exhausted.

And no one cared about me.

I was three years old.

. . .

If I didn’t have a moment to rest while I was awake, I had when my parents let me sleep. And dreamt with the little blond boy .It was reassuring, seeing him, there was something that brought me calm.

Even knowing that he hurted someone.

Every time I called, screamed for him, always. But he kept getting further and further away from me.

My worst nightmare was to never be able to dream with him. The little boy I wanted so much to call my friend.

Because, otherwise, I would be completely alone.

. . .

To me, it was something natural.

I went to bed as a little girl in my bed, and woke up with my parents screaming.

“WHO ARE YOU?!”

“Good morning daddy.”

“MARGOT,GET IN HERE!”

. . .

I was tall! Enough to reach thing on the top shelf; my legs allowed me to run faster through the backyard. I was even taller than my mamma!

And the voices keep whispering to me.

“What do you want me to do Lucas?” I heard my mom on the phone one day “Money? But we already charged…”

“Excuse me, missy” I got my attention towards the person in front of me. And the line that followed. Each day it got bigger and bigger, and the voices just kept pushing me.

“Be good. Have patience. Help them.”

It was as if I was stuck inside a wheel. Give and give and give.

And my parents charged from others?

I found out when I was speaking to a woman that didn’t want to admit that her husband left her.

“Ma’am, what can I do?” I didn’t understand any of that. How do I fix emotions?

“I paid good money for your results, young lady !You have to fix this!”

What?

. . .

Is that what you want me to do?

I wasn’t allowed to leave my room anymore “Too distracting” my parents said. Every moment there was buzz downstairs. Clothes delivery ,new furniture, desperate people paying a lot of money to talk to me about their “problems”. Futile and shallow.

It was all my parents wanted.

Is this humanity? Personal and immediate interest ?Material rewards?

I figured it out. The more I kept to myself, more I could absorb from others. It wasn’t just about mom and dad and their growing gluttony; it was everyone else. People were desperate about things that didn’t concern them; always blaming others for their faults; waiting for someone else to fix their mistakes.

Yes

I took one of my dad’s cigarettes, the ones he stashed from my mom. At night I could walk freely on the house without anyone disturbing me. They thought they could control me.

“Argh, this is horrible” Why do people use stuff they know is not good for them?

“Are they that dumb?” I stopped in front of their bedroom. Mom and dad looked so peaceful, swallowed by the materialistic opulence of everything they didn’t need ,but want. And me, their golden goose.

“This is not what I want” I whispered as my mom moved .She was still sore, plastic surgery does that to you, she said. And dad was also sore, from screwing his PA.

“You are all so little” How could God allow such people to exist?

“Don’t think about it ,YN. That’s not your job. Be good, help them” The voice spoke .Only, this time, for the first time, I noticed how it hesitated.

Fuck you.

. . .

I never looked back. That’s not where my life was going. I let go .Of everything.

My parents ,that house, people.

And then, my path was clear.

It was as if an arrow guided me to my destination. The little boy, only now he wasn’t so little .He grew ,like me. And he needed help.

Michael.

. . .

It was too late.

He was stretched out on the ground. Blood all over, his body twisted in painful angles. That wasn’t suppose to happen.

“No, no, no” I cradled his hand, leaning towards him. There was no one near .Please, please

“Please, Michael. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” I was sobbing uncontrollably. What was the point of all that violence? “Open your eyes, please”.

I don’t know who or what made it possible, but he opened them and, for a split second, I couldn’t breathe. They were the bluest color I’ve ever seen.

“Who…”He was choking on his own blood, and yet, something in his eyes said that he knew who I was. “I know…you”.

“Yes! You know me, Michael! You’ve always know me” My whole body was shaking, he was coming back! His wounds were closing and the color of his body was coming back.

“I couldn’t hear you. I wanted to. I saw you, but I couldn’t.”He was gripping me with such force, unnatural for someone who went through what he did, but I wasn’t letting go.

“I know ,I tried to reach you. All this time I’ve been so alone” My tears mixed with his. It felt like a weight has been lifted of my soul.

“So did I YN”

When he said this, it was as if the wheel was broken. There was nothing or anyone more important in this planet.

“Now we don’t have to walk alone”

. . .

Mallory’s POV

It was another sunny day, and my sisters and I decided to enjoy. Madison wanted new clothes, and apparently an entourage/audience as well. Reminiscences of her Hollywood days, I guess. It’s not like I didn’t mind to go.

Ever since I came back, I let go of petty things, fights that wouldn’t add up to my life. The world was safe, and all was well.

I never told anyone about it. And that’s fine, because I know that what matters is preserved.

I wasn’t really paying much attention to Madison and Zoe’s daily quarrel, nor Coco and Quennie wanting to go in a different direction, or even how bright and sunny it was.

“Hey, watch it!” I was so absorbed in my mind that I only realized Madison was cursing at pets when they crossed the street.

“It’s just kittens, Madison” A black and white one ran straight to a couple on the other side.

“Yeah, well, contrary to popular belief, not all witches like cats”

They’re an young couple. The man was tall, blond and wore black from head to toe. The woman was tall as well, long hair. She was wearing a blue dress. They walked gazing at each other, which is why I couldn’t see their faces, but from their body language, even a blind man could see they were in love. It seemed that the cats made wave for them.

“I hate those furry things.”

For some reason, I couldn’t stop to stare at them. The street was crowded, and it was not as if they stood out from everyone else. It looked like a simple sight: an young couple walking down the street.

It was their posture. From the way they walked together, I couldn’t see where one started and the other ended.

Something looked awfully familiar.

Shit

. . .

Third Person’s POV

“What’s the matter my love?”The man asked, tightening his hold on his companion’s waist.

“ You know what. The witch is watching us” The woman pouted. He loved when she did that. He loved everything about his love, and the fact she cared so much more about his safety than hers, only made him love her more and more.

“I know, wife .But really, does she even matter to us?”He asked, his her forehead.

From the moment Michael met YN, nothing else mattered. Not his so called family, whom never wanted him; nor his father, who left him at mercy .Not even his “great purpose”, to bring destruction to the world. Nothing.

Only his YN. His friend. His companion. His wife. His soulmate.

She helped him, accepted him as he was and loved him since they were children.

That’s real love .It’s what he always craved for, but never knew, until they found each other.

His true purpose.

Was to be with her.

“No” She sighed, leaning on him. Like always, words weren’t needed for the other to know what they were thinking.

“She doesn’t matter to us”.

#imagines #imagine #tv #ahs #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #michael langdon #langdon #michael langdon reader #michael x reader #michael imagine #michael one shot #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon one shot

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tybalt-tisk · 6 years

Text

Current Shallura WIPs

Now that Summer is here and I plan on writing a lot more. So here’s a list of things to expect from me over the next few months.

1) Only With You: Chapter 6.

Childhood!Shalllura AU. Allura and Shiro are best friends that meet as children and grow old together. Right now, they are about 4 years old. It’s full of fluff and humor. Also, it features Good Zarkon! He is Alfor’s best friend and business partner. Chapter 6 introduces Lotor, a person that brings out the jealousy in Shiro because he isn’t used to sharing Allura. I told myself that this was going to be a short chapter, but its already 11K deep...so yeah...Get ready for that...

Rating: G, then will eventually change into M when they are adults and realize their feelings. Here is chapter 5. Warnings: Fluff Fest. (And they were roommates.)

2) The Infamous Voltron.

Space Dystopian Mafia AU. (??) What if Voltron wasn’t the defender of the universe. What if instead Voltron was the codename for the deadliest gang in the known universe?

Based off of my headcanon. (That should tell you a lot more of each of their characters in this story. What makes it an “Evil Voltron” is that I want to take the darkest, most predatory elements of each of their canon personas and amplify them. By 1000x. It’s gonna take on a dark concept because of mental illnesses, blood, gore and such. I’m a slut for an evil version of literally anything, so this was something I’ve been thinking about for a while now. I just need to practice writing descriptive action scenes because I want this story to have a lot of action. I plan on having a teaser chapter up soon. Not sure how soon tho. However, I don’t have a plot for this story just yet. The only thing I have figured out is that each member has their vices.

Rating E. Oh yeah. It’a going to have blood, gore, extreme violence, and filthy sex. Pairings: Shiro/Allura, Keith/Lance

3) Mr. and Mrs. Shirogone

Assassin AU. Allura and Shiro live a simple life. A cute house in the suburbs that makes the upper-middle-class their bitch. After 5 years of marriage, they think they know everything about each other. For example. Shiro knows that Allura likes four spoonfuls of sugar in her morning tea, but only two for the cup she drinks before climbs into bed. He thinks its adorable how she thinks that waffles are superior to pancakes only because the “syrup pockets” give it the edge.

He also knows that it takes her exactly 43 seconds for her to pull up into the driveway and get into the house, leaving just enough time for him to put away his newly polished guns and clean the blood from his shirt. What Shiro doesn’t know is that Allura knows how to kill a man 3x her size without leaving a single bruise.

Life was more simple before they found out the person they vowed their undying love to was one of the world’s deadliest assassins, each with a 100% kill rate. It was also more simple before their competing agencies assigned them to kill each other. I have literally written nothing to make this plot become a reality. But I will. One day. Rating: M for violence and…things. Warnings: Blood, Gore, Spy Talk.

4) Hellooo Nurse!

Domestic AU. After a minor operation, Shiro is left high on drugs. Unable to remember much or control his tongue, Shiro falls in love with who he thinks is the nurse and uses cheesy pickup lines to gain her affection. Lucky for him she’s already his wife.

Rating: G. So much fluff. Warnings: Shiro is very much out of character for this. Shameless Flirting.

5) Not Over You

Breakup/Makeup AU. Just when Shiro finally thought he was over her, she came back into his life to remind him that he wasn’t. Two-shot. Rating: E. (They do the do, my guys) Warnings: Fluff and Smut.

6) Allura Whump.

I’m a sucker for hurt characters and their loved one needs to race against time to save them. So with that being said, Allura needs to get hurt. Badly. So its gonna happen. This is Shallura, but its mostly a team effort to protect and save her. But how can they do that in the middle of a war zone? Hmm...We’ll see. Rating: T Warnings: Blood. Blood everywhere. *evil laughter*

7) Chapter 2 of The Model and the Photographer.

“Lance was right, her hair was a mess and it looked like a bitch to get manageable again. The rain had converted it back to its naturally curly texture and it still somehow perfectly framed her face. Long, thick lashes, still coated with rainwater, surrounded the bluest eyes Shiro had ever seen. Her lipstick, that once painted her full lips, was now smudged across her chin and some even stained her teeth because of Lance’s harsh treatment. Her tank top rode up slightly and clung to her body in all the right places and he was pretty sure that one of her shoes were missing.

She looked a downright mess. She looked like she was out in the rain for hours instead of minutes. She was truly the definition of a disaster. She was - She looked - She-S-

She was fucking gorgeous.”

Chapter 2 of this is basically complete but its missing something. This one will definitely be up before Voltron S6 comes out on Friday.

That's all of my ideas I have for the summer. More will probably come and this list will get longer as time goes on.

#shallura #voltron #shallura fics #allura #shiro #tybaltwrites

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sarah-wants-to-write · 4 years

Text

I Dare You to Love; Part Six (Star Trek AOS)

Life on the Enterprise is as close to normal as it could be, and Shari and Jim settle into their lives together on ship. However, Jim wants to move things forward, and Shari receives some unexpected news that will turn their lives upside down.

God, but it had been a long week. Shari and Jim were all but collapsed into bed together, exhausted. A busy week full of missions, diplomacy, and inter-crew issues had Shari and Jim running around trying to keep everything together.

Though not a member of Bridge command, or the highest-ranking officer by any means, her status as Jim’s soul mate gave Shari an unofficial role on the ship as someone people could go to for help with anything, to talk to. In emergencies, her orders were followed as often as Spock’s, or Jim’s. Shari had been rather miffed at the breach of protocol, but Jim was rather happy.

“They respect you, and know that you know what you’re doing,” he insisted, smiling as she pouted about the situation “you should see yourself in a command situation, my queen. You’d definitely be at home commanding your own ship, if you wanted it.”

“And I don’t’,” she sighed, leaning against Jim as he stood next to her “you know my aspirations. Being a Captain isn’t one of them.”

“I know,” Jim replied, smiling as he kissed the top of her head “just trying to help you see why the crew holds you in such high regard.”

An entire week of basically co-commanding the ship and they were exhausted. Shari had fallen asleep the moment she was cuddled against her soul mate, but Jim was still trying to fall asleep. It was then that his PADD started ringing with a video transmission. He bit back a groan to keep from waking Shari up, reaching for the machine and looking at the screen.

Any frustration he felt went away when Jim saw the name, and immediately answered it.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Winona Kirk smiled at the sight of her sleep-deprived son “this is a bad time, isn’t it?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, voice still low “it’s okay.”

Like hell he was going to pass up the opportunity to talk to his mom. There was a lot he wanted to talk to her about.

“You look exhausted, baby,” Winona insisted, eyebrow quirked at how quiet he was being “are you okay?”

“Just a long week,” Jim replied “Shari and I have basically been headless chickens running around.”

“How is that dear soul mate of yours that I have yet to meet?” she asked, smiling “I take it we’re being so quiet so we won’t wake her up.”

“Pretty much,” he smiled, looking down to where Shari was snuggled into his chest “she’s not used to the role the crew has basically handed to her, but she’s really taken to it.”

“She’s your soul mate,” Winona mused “it makes sense she’d have a steady head on her shoulders. How else would she get you to take care of yourself, the way you’ve told me about?”

“Mom…” Jim groaned, smiling a bit “I love you, but were you calling for a specific reason, or just to talk?”

“Rude, Jim,” he looked down to see Shari blinking awake “she’s got a point about you neglecting yourself.”

“Woke her up, did we?” Winona chuckled “come on, let me say hello.”

Jim rolled his eyes, smiling, as Shari adjusted so that she was in frame with him. He knew she wanted to make a better impression, but Jim knew his mom wouldn’t mind.

“Commander Kirk,” Shari greeted, smiling tiredly “it’s nice to finally meet you. I’d apologize for my state, but like Jim said, it’s been a long week.”

“Please, call me Winona,” his mom replied “and don’t worry about it. This is refreshingly…real, if that makes sense.”

“It does,” Shari nodded “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while, ma’am, and we were going to arrange a call, but things got out of hand before we could do so.”

“I was Star Fleet, too, sweetheart,” Winona reassured her “believe me, I understand circumstances throwing a wrench into plans.”

Even after just over thirty years, Jim knew that the loss of his father-his mother’s soul mate-hurt his mom to mention. It was one of the reasons he was so protective of Shari, and so much more careful on missions.

“I’ve been told so, ma’am,” Shari declared, smiling for the older woman “Jim told me the story you told him, about how you and his father met. Spontaneity must be a Kirk bloodline trait. Something I fell in love with, with Jim.”

“The bright blue eyes don’t hurt, either,” Winona agreed, smiling “I’m glad Jim got those from George.”

“As am I,” Shari nodded, leaning up and giving Jim a quick kiss on the cheek “though I wonder just how much he’s told you about how we met.”

“Not much,” Winona teased “just that a beautiful science officer stood up for him to two bad-talking security team members, when she didn’t even know him.”

“That’s basically it, yeah,” Shari laughed “people are entitled to their opinions, but they really need to be mindful of where and when they talk about them. Especially if the subject of said opinion could hear it.”

“Smart, fierce, and lovely,” Winona mused “I can see how you caught my boy’s attention.”

“Even before I knew he was my soul mate, Jim grew near and dear to me really quickly,” Shari declared, smiling up at Jim “he helped me to become the more confident, outspoken person I am.”

Winona watched Jim and Shari look at each other, and her heart swelled at the knowledge that her son had found his fated partner.

“He gets it from his father,” she declared “you’re both shifters, so tell me; just what does my boy’s soul beast look like?”

“A handsome blonde wolf,” Shari replied, curious why Winona would want to know “with the bluest of eyes.”

“I’m not surprised,” Winona smiled “his father was the same.”

“You never told me that…” Jim spoke up, looking at his mother in surprise “you just said dad was the shifter of the pair.”

“I didn’t want you to feel more pressure to live up to his legacy.” Winona explained, giving her son a sympathetic look.

“I think George Kirk would be more than proud of the man his son has become,” Shari declared, earning surprised looks from both Kirks “a great captain, and a good man.”

“I’m glad my son found you,” Winona mused “he deserves to have happiness after everything he’s been through.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Shari nodded, remembering Jim telling her about his father, Tarsus IV, the Khan incident, and Altamid “and I promise I’ll do everything to make him as happy as he’s made me.”

“I know you will,” Winona declared, smile never leaving her face “I’ll let you two get back to sleep. You look exhausted. Call me once you’re fully rested, okay honey?”

“I will, mom,” Jim replied, smiling “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Winona turned to look at Shari, smile turning to a smirk “it was nice to finally meet you, Shari. I have to say, I always wanted a daughter.”

“You and my mom will get along great,” Shari chuckled “it was an honor to meet you.”

Bidding farewell, the call ended and Jim put his PADD back on the bedside shelf. Turning onto his side, he wrapped his arms around Shari and pulled her close.

“Well, that went weirder and better than I thought,” he muttered, nose buried in Shari’s hair “I’m glad you and my mom get along so well.”

“I figured we would,” Shari declared, smiling as her eyes drifted shut “she’s a wonderful, strong woman. I look forward to meeting her face to face.”

“We still need to call your mom.” Jim mused, already feeling himself fall asleep.

“We will,” She promised, pressing a kiss to Jim’s neck as she could feel his breathing even out “sleep well, my love.”

Shari had been feeling ill for about a week, and Jim was worried about her. She normally didn’t turn down his advances, even months now after Arian and their first night sleeping together, but she had reassured Jim that she was fine. She just wasn't feeling well.

Trusting her, after she’d promised she would go to Bones if she felt ill for any longer or got worse, Jim went back to trying to plan his next big surprise for her. They were approaching the final year of their five-year mission, and he knew it was the right time. He had the ring, a shield-cut diamond on a gold band, now he just had to figure out how to do it.

He wanted to ask Shari to marry him, and wanted to make it special. So much of their life together had gone well, but not to plan, and he just wanted this one thing to go the way he planned it.

Jim had discussed it with his mom, Bones, Uhura, even Chekov. The crew was their family, and he wanted them involved if they could be. Thanks to them, Jim was able to figure out a small plan.

He’d call Shari to one of the observation decks, under the premise of discussing a ‘promotion’ from command. When she was there, under the stars with him, Jim would speak from the heart, before asking her to marry him. A solid plan, one they would celebrate with their friends once it was done.

Though Jim still worried that Shari was ill. He really hoped she wasn’t.

“I thought you said you two were being careful?” McCoy asked, looking sideways at Shari as she sat on the bio bed in a private exam room.

“We have been!” she insisted “but we both know contraceptives aren’t 100% effective.”

“Not to mention that Jim would be just that damn lucky,” McCoy sighed, looking over the results of the test “and he still doesn’t know?”

“Not that I know of,” Shari replied, fingers laced together and squeezing tightly “I’m normally somewhat irregular, so I wanted to wait to confirm before saying anything.”

McCoy knew what Jim was planning, and couldn’t help wondering who would get to reveal their news first.

“Well, I can say for certain that you can tell him,” he told her, walking over and showing her the PADD and test results “congratulations, Lieutenant. You and Jim are gonna be parents.”

Shari looked over the results, smiling at the excited butterflies in her belly. She’d had a feeling that she’d been ill from morning sickness, and finally found some time to go to the med bay without making Jim worry even more.

“When are you planning on telling him?” McCoy asked, curious “and how?”

“I’ll have to figure that out,” she answered, smiling nervously “you know, in a strange way, things happening like this makes sense. Nothing in our relationship has been ‘by the book’, or really gone to plan, but that’s what makes it as unique and wonderful as it is.”

“Probably the only time any of us will see a relationship like that actually work out,” he chuckled “I’d tell him soon, though, so he can make sure we aren’t too far from a Federation base or station by the time you’re due, just to be safe.”

“I wonder who’ll worry more,” Shari teased, hopping to her feet “Jim or you? Thanks for your help, Leonard. I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, now get out of my med bay.” McCoy waved her off, smiling a little bit all the while as she left the room. Well, it seemed it was time to encourage Jim to put his plan into action.

It was only a few hours later, right before the end of Alpha shift, when Jim had paged her in her lab. He asked her to come to the observation deck, and he could feel the ring box as though it was burning a hole in his pocket. As confused as his beloved sounded, she agreed readily, saying she’d be there soon. Jim looked to the others who were gathered; Spock, Bones, Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, and each of them gave him a smile or gesture of encouragement. Even Spock gave a nod and had a vague semblance of a smile, which Jim knew was a lot.

A few minutes later, Shari entered the observation deck to see Jim standing in the light of the stars, and he smiled upon seeing her confused expression.

“Jim?” she started, walking over “what were you talking about over COMM? Something about a promotion?”

“I’ll get to it,” he promised, reaching out as she drew nearer and taking her hand in his “there’s something I wanted to say, first.”

Shari looked up at him, sensing the seriousness and nerves behind his tone, as he took their joined hands and kissed the back of hers.

“I’ll be honest,” Jim started, looking down at their laced-together fingers “I never, in my life, expected to meet you. Yet, on the day of the mixer, when I saw you tearing into those two security officers in my defense, you crashed into my life in the best way. You caught my eye, and soon wormed your way into my heart with your persistent friendship and sympathetic ear and shoulder.

“You grew to know the darkest parts of me, parts that most still don’t know,” he continued, free hand coming up to caress her cheek as he looked her in the eye “and still you remained. I still couldn’t tell you when it happened, but I knew I loved you after I had the first and only taste of what life would be like without you. It had torn me to pieces inside, thinking that we might not talk to each other again.”

Shari’s hand came up to cover his hand touching her cheek, and she leaned into his palm to give it a soft kiss. His breath caught at that, but Jim forced himself to continue.

“Loving you, being loved by you, my koroleva yaguara, made me into a better man, and I love you all the more for it,” Jim declared, smiling through the tears at her approving look of his Russian pronunciation of his pet name for her “I honestly couldn’t imagine spending my life without you now, my soul mate. So, there’s just one thing left to do.”

Letting her go, Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, opening it before going down on both knees in front of Shari. The surprised look on her face as tears came to her eyes was all the encouragement Jim needed.

“I kneel before you, my queen, as a man who wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life making you feel as loved and happy as you do me,” he repeated the words from memory easily, having practiced them for days “And it would be an honor if you would give me that chance. Shari Neilson, my love, will you marry me?”

Shari was quiet for a moment as a few tears escaped, though her grin belayed any worries in Jim’s heart.

“As though there was ever any doubt?” she replied through the happy sobs “yes, Jim. A thousand times, yes!” Jim grinned as he sprang to his feet, pulling her in for a kiss and tight hug as the others looking on applauded for them.

When he slipped the ring on her finger, a perfect fit of course, Shari leaned in even closer.

“Promotion, huh?” she gently teased “then I guess there’s one in store for you, as well.”

“What are you talking about?” Jim asked, giving her an amused look.

“Remember how I was feeling ill over the last week?” she replied, giving him a meaningful look “I went to see Leonard to see what’s going on.”

“And?” Jim prompted, somewhat worried “what is it?”

“A promotion for you in about seven to eight months’ time,” Shari answered quietly, smiling mischievously all the while “Captain Daddy.”

She could see everything click behind his eyes, expression morphing into one of excitement and shock.

“You’re…you’re pregnant?!” he whispered, grinning from ear to ear “we’re gonna be parents?!”

Shari grinned, nodding fervently, before laughing in surprise as Jim picked her up in a hug and swung her around in a circle.

“We’re gonna be parents!” he exclaimed in laughing joy, setting her on her feet before turning to the others in the room “she’s pregnant! We’re gonna be parents!”

Now that was news to everyone but Bones, and the flood of congratulatory hugs and handshakes was almost overwhelming. It was certainly a night to celebrate, and that was exactly what they did.

After the impromptu party, Shari and Jim were back in their quarters, cuddling together on the bed. Jim hadn’t stopped smiling all night, and his hand caressed her belly as they lay in bed.

“Never thought this day would come,” he muttered, leaning in to steal another kiss from her “thought I might be the captain who was married to his work, his ship. Yet here I am; engaged, an expectant father. It’s more than I could imagine.”

“I never thought this would happen, either,” Shari agreed, pressing herself as close as she could to him “but you know what they say about what life does when you make plans.”

“You’ve got a point,” Jim chuckled “I love you, my beautiful fiancée, mother of my child.”

“As I love you, my handsome fiancé, father of my child.”

Shari couldn’t have been happier with how her life was going. Their family was growing, and she absolutely looked forward to the future, and all the plans they needed to make.

#star trek fic #star trek aos #kirk fic #james t kirk #star trek kelvin timeline #i dare you to love fic #pregnancy TW #pregnancy mention

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