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mamamittens · 1 year

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Onsen Delights (+18)

Day#5 of December Event 2022!

Fandom: One Piece

Ship: AceXOC(Saki)

Warnings: Nudity, possessiveness, dirty talk, unsafe sex, filthy sex, creampie, mating press, and biting/marking. Not necessarily in that order.

Word Count: 4,134

@spitfire-of-the-sea

If I need to make any changes, let me know!

It happens from time to time that a storm system moves by the Moby Dick and makes efficient travel impossible. Usually, it’s more along the lines of a hurricane or thunderstorm—rarely staying longer than a few days. But surprisingly for once, it was an entire artic winter system. And they were visiting an island at the time.

In short, the whole ship was beset in ice before they could reasonably leave, which was very impressive considering the sheer size of their ship. So, until the ice was sufficiently melted (or one of the commanders or Whitebeard got bored and broke the ice without damaging the hull), they were locked in place. The fact that this didn’t happen immediately could be contributed to only one simple fact.

The island was famed for hot springs and onsens. As well as their booze.

And they certainly weren’t going to turn down good business.

To keep down in fighting it was decided that parts of the crew would enjoy the amenities of the island at a time. Commanders with their crews and a small portion of those that didn’t get to go with their division to keep the ship running properly. It wouldn’t be a good idea if the entire kitchen staff was let off at the same time, or the medical division after all. Ace was just glad that he happened to be off with a good portion of his old crew. It had been a while since they’d hung out as a group—their responsibilities keeping them elsewhere most of the time.

Thatch tossed his arm over Ace’s shoulder with a rough chuckle, handing him a pass with his name engraved on it. A keepsake the island gave out for their inn with private onsens.

“Don’t forget, your room will have your name on the left side of the door. It’s near the more secluded onsens too.” Thatch winked, “Commander privilege.” He explained. Ace scoffed.

“I heard you the first time, Thatch! Geez, I’m not that forgetful!” Ace shoved the older man away with a laugh. For some reason, several of his brothers had been very insistent on reminding him where his room was. It reeked of a prank of some kind, but Ace was never one to turn down a challenge.

And they couldn’t do anything too destructive since they’d have to explain to Whitebeard why damages needed to be paid. He’d laugh it off, probably, but everyone tended to be embarrassed when it came time to explain the more disastrous incidences to their captain and father.

Regardless, Thatch sighed, ruffling his hair, before shrugging.

“Alright, I got it. You’re a big boy and can handle yourself. We just want to spoil our little brother—is that a crime?” Thatch bemoaned with the most fake ass tears in the corner of his eyes. Ace briefly contemplated shoving his boot into Thatch’s face but decided the best response was to ignore the dramatics completely and get cleaned up for the onsen. “Ah! My concern is being brushed off like snowflakes! Marco! Our baby brother doesn’t love me anymore! What do I do?!”

“Die I guess, yoi.”

“Marco you ass!”

Ace cackled as he retreated into the building, finding the bathing section for the onsen marked on his pass. A kindly old woman presented him with a package for the bath and Ace made sure to keep his manners in mind, bowing deeply as he accepted the bundle.

“Thank you, ma’am. I apologize in advance for my rowdy crew.” Ace offered. She laughed softly, wrinkled skin bending around her lips in humor.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me, young man. You’re hardly the worst pirate crew I’ve served in our inn. Enjoy yourself, you hear me? That’ll be thanks enough for this old woman.” She declared before shuffling off to tend to something else. Ace smiled and did just that.

Making sure to wash himself thoroughly before grabbing a towel and heading into one of the private onsen. There were several small areas separated by walls for private parties or small groups in a larger party. Likely in case families want to enjoy the hot springs but didn’t want to mingle with in laws or children at the same time. It was hard to say, really. Snow fell in light flurries, melting inches before the ground from the heat. Paper lanterns were hung from the walls as lighting, giving off a hazy amber glow.

He didn’t notice the small figure in the mist above the water at first, focused on setting aside his hat and towel where it wouldn’t get wet. His devil fruit made such luxuries as this a… bit of a gamble. But thankfully with practice shallow pools were no issue for him. Aside from lack of access to his powers, he suffered no side effects from the waters. Glancing across the area Ace felt his heart stutter.

“Saki!” Ace instinctively cried out in joy, completely ruining the sight before him.

His old crewmate-turned-reluctant-Whitebeard-nurse jerked out of her relaxed state. Leaning against the far rock outcropping with a towel over her eyes, completely naked under the glow of the lamplight. Blond hair silver and gold against her bare, white skin. She hissed in surprise, gray eyes narrowed at him before pausing in shock.

“Ace? Ack! What are you doing?!” Saki yelped, arms splashing in the water to cover her breasts. Ace pouted, ignoring the throb of his dick.

“What a weird question, what’s it look like I’m doing?” Ace scoffed, brushing off the obvious issue with his presence. He treaded closer to his friend, eyes helplessly drawn across her damp skin.

So, he… may have a problem. A Saki-specific problem. Usually, it wasn’t that much of an issue. He hid it well… well enough. But found himself inevitably drawn to her anytime she was around. And it was really coming back to bite him in the ass.

Not that he was a perv or anything but… Saki looked really fucking good right now. Skin flush with heat and dewy, hair pulled back off her neck except for rogue strands that clung to her body, and the mist from the hot spring a hazy film that drew his eyes to her arms. Arms that mostly served to push up her breasts and begged to be touched, to see if they were as soft as they looked.

“Oi! Eyes up here, Ace!” Ace flushed, grinning apologetically in a way that usually earned him forgiveness faster from Saki, as he looked at her eyes. Dark mole under the corner of her right eye prominent even in the soft light.

“…Sorry, Saki.” Ace mumbled, reaching out to stroke her shoulder without thinking. A gesture he’d done countless times—a side effect of his ‘Saki-problem’. His fingers slipped over her damp skin and he briefly marveled at the sensation. He felt his core tighten as heat throbbed, familiar arousal teasing him for being a coward.

“Hey, you still haven’t explained why you’re here right now, Ace! You’re supposed to go to the section next to your room!” Saki explained. “This is the women’s area.” Ace whined, once again thinking only with his dick as he buried his face in her shoulder. Her soft, natural scent strong as she yelped, hands pushing against his chest to dislodge his weight.

“This place is so confusing! I thought I was in the right section! How was I supposed to knooooowwwwww, Sah-kiiiii?” Ace whined, lips brushing over her neck as he briefly forgot the situation. Mainly, his erection.

But damn if he didn’t remember suddenly as the tip brushed across her plush thighs. Ace groaned, shuddering softly as he wrapped his arms around her frame.

“Ace!” Saki hissed, poking his abdomen hard to no avail. “You! Are! Naked! Get off me!” It took all of his willpower to stay still. Uncertain if he’d be able to refrain from exposing himself if he moved.

“…soft.” Ace huffed, brushing his hands down her shoulders as he clearly felt her heartbeat through her back. She stiffened, breasts brushing across his chest.

It felt like a dream. Like the best dream—the kind he only seemed to get moments before he was rudely awakened for one reason or another.

“A-Ace! I can feel you, you know!?” Saki hissed, grabbing his hair and tugging, earning a sharp groan as he reflexively pressed against her body. “G-Get out and take care of it, damnit! Stop digging it in!”

Ace huffed.

“What’s the point? It’ll just come right back when I see you…” Ace groaned.

His eyes popped open in horror.

He just admitted to being turned on by his best friend.

Chronically hard at the sight of her.

Saki was also frozen, shocked and likely disgusted.

“…What did you just say?” Saki whispered, fingertips delicately pressed into his spine. Her heart fluttered under his palms.

Ace cleared his throat and nervously pulled back, flustered and horrified.

“Ah-haha! Nothing! Nothing! I-I just—you know what, you’re right! I’m in the wrong place! I should go—” Ace started to the exit quickly, “I’m an idiot, I can’t believe I got lost! I’ll n-never live it down! You definitely don’t want me here—why would you—”

“Why wouldn’t I?!” Saki barked. Ace froze, one foot on the stone pathway and ass totally exposed as he looked over his shoulder. She also paused, face flushed as she looked around desperately, hands waving around in embarrassment. “I-I mean, y-you’re here to relax! Not to b-b-bother with me—uhm, why… why would you want to be in here when you could be enjoying some alone time! Big ship! Big crew! N-Not a lot of space to be alone, is there! N-Not that I’ve thought about that—of course not!”

Ace slowly stepped back into the water; eyes locked on Saki as she floundered to cover her ass. Completely exposing herself to him in the meantime as he slowly began to grin.

So… maybe there was a mutual problem between them after all?

She only fell silent when she realized he was right in front of her. His hands planted on the stones beside her, caging her in as he grinned. Eyes burning into her.

“It sure is a big crew.” Ace began, much to her obvious confusion. “And a big ship… weird how I keep finding my way to you. Every time you walk into a room, I’m right there. When we eat. Party. Plan. Fight. If you’re there… I’m right beside you. I don’t even notice when it happens—it feels so natural. It feels natural being with you… don’t you think so?” Ace asked softly, still grinning a little wildly as his heart was pounding.

Maybe it was the heat and winter air mixing around them making him dizzy. Maybe it was how close he was to Saki’s everything right now. Her most intimate and soft places totally within arm’s reach. Or maybe his head was spinning because for the first time, he seriously suspected that she liked him too.

“Yeah… yeah it does.” Saki admits quietly, her words brushing across his lips as he leaned in closer. Her eyes glanced away anxiously. “…C-Cause we’re such great friends, right?”

“And we want to be more, right?” Ace echoed, enjoying the shock as her eyes widened, pupils constricting as she looked back at him. Then the gray shrank, turning into a slim ring of silver and gold, reflected candlelight.

His whole body tensed. Teeth clenched as the confirmation struck him down to his heels before she even said a word.

“Fuck yes…” Saki whispered, eyes wide still with shock. The sound of her voice going straight to his cock as he pressed his lips against hers, slipping his arms around her body.

He pressed his body against hers completely, hands rubbing over her skin and squeezing the soft curves. Her moan buzzed against his lips as her head tipped back. Leaning into his embrace eagerly. His cock nestled perfectly between her thighs, accidentally sliding across her hot cunt. Ace groaned, pulling back as they panted for air.

Testing, Ace gripped her ass and gently thrust into her thighs. Something hotter and more slick than water covering his cock as Saki gripped his biceps with a moan.

“Ngh.” Ace grunted, relishing the feeling a moment longer before huffing. “Too fast?” He asked hoarsely. Saki shook her head.

“N-No… but maybe we shouldn’t dirty the water.” Saki laughed, moaning as he thrust his hips forward harshly again, just to see her reaction.

“But you look good like this.” Ace groaned, gently grabbing a fistful of hair to pull her back, presenting her breasts to him. He eagerly took advantage of her willingness, still grinding against her as he tested the soft skin with his teeth and tongue.

Softer and more malleable than he ever dreamed of, the pale skin was easily marked under his teeth and lips.

“A-Ace~!” Saki whined, reaching back to pull his hair as she shook, her thighs trembling around his cock. “S-Stop! W-We might get s-seen!” Ace dug under her trapped breast with his tongue, popping the nipple into his mouth hungrily. Still fucking her thighs.

The blood was rushing between his head and cock, muddying his thoughts outside of how fucking good she felt. A delight to his senses—all of them.

But then he remembered that this wasn’t entirely a private area. Anyone from his division could come in at any time.

They could see what he was doing to Saki at any moment.

Huffing, heat building in his chest, Ace released her tit from his mouth and looked at her face. She was flushed and panting, eyes almost closed as she cried out softly with every thrust of his cock against her cunt.

Absolutely not.

No one was going to get to see this.

His cock screamed, on the edge of release as he pulled away completely. His hands gently guiding her out of the water.

“You’re right.” Ace huffed. “We should take this to my room.” Saki stumbled, legs trembling as they got out of the water. Partially because he wanted to make sure she wasn’t soaking wet when they walked to his room, Ace briskly patted her off with his towel. Unable to resist kissing her skin as he pressed the fabric against it.

He managed to mark her breasts without a word but Saki shoved him when he tried to do the same to her thighs. Ace scoffed but allowed it… for the moment.

He wasn’t holding back when they got to his room though.

Carefully tucking her dry towel over her body, Ace knotted the damp fabric of his at his waist, scooping up his hat and placing it on her head.

Ace didn’t bother with anything else, dragging her behind him as he looked for his room. Once he spotted it—having thankfully never run into anyone else along the way—he reached for the door.

“I-I thought we were going to your room?” Saki whispered. Ace glanced at her with a raised brow.

“We are?” Ace lifted up his hand with hers, the wooden plate reading his name as he gestured to the left side of the door. “See? It’s got my name.”

Saki reached out and opened the door.

“I put my stuff away before I went to bath…” Saki explained.

Ace looked into the room and, to his surprise, she was right. Her things were packed away neatly next to the large futon. Toiletry bag placed near the bathroom door with her hairbrush.

“…They told me to make sure I went to the right room. Thatch even told me twice to look for my name on the left side.” Ace muttered, slowly leading the two of them into the room. Suddenly, he laughed. “Hah! Hey, think they were trying to set us up?” Ace asked.

Saki chuckled, cheeks burning as she nodded.

“Yeah… I think so. I was told the same, but on the right side.”

“Huh… Anyway! Where were we?” Ace asked, scooping Saki up into his arms and tossing her down onto the futon. He kneeled over her, gently removing her towel with a grin. “That’s right… we were right here, weren’t we?” Ace kissed her breasts, reaching up to cradle them in his hands. Their plush weight spilling over between his fingers.

“A-Ace!” Saki moaned in surprise as he licked up at her nipple, worrying the bud between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth hungrily. Her nails dug into his shoulders and scalp as she cried out. He fed off of her reactions and the delightfully soft skin of her breasts in equal measure. Heartbeat pulsing on his tongue as he groaned. Not one to hold back, he gave the other the same treatment, leaving marks along her supple skin.

His erection ached fiercely, reminding him of how soft her thighs were.

And with that reminder, Ace moved down. Nipping at the soft skin of her stomach as he groped her waist. Restlessly, her legs kicked under him, catching on the towel and ripping it off. But Ace was focused only on one thing.

Her thighs spilled over his hands as he slowly pulled them apart. Sinfully soft under his lips and teeth as he nipped the plush skin. And as eager as he was to mark her thighs—that haunted him for months after he saw her wear a bikini once—his mouth watered for something… sweeter.

Ace’s tongue parted her cunt in a firm lick, Saki’s whole body jolting in surprise as he toyed with her clit. Lapping at it as he reluctantly released one of her thighs to play with her body. Slipping his fingers into the growing mess before dipping inwards. Stretching her out slowly. Her hands anchored in his hair as she cried out noisily for him. And he kissed her pussy like it would silence her mewling lips. Tongue forcing his fingers apart as he tasted her. Only driving her to cry out louder.

He knew he was likely bruising her thigh as he gripped it, but he only sought to keep her still under him. To fight off her instinct to buck against him. Ace grinned and panted against her cunt.

“Thanks for the meal.” Ace laughed before diving in, ignoring Saki’s embarrassed screech. Curling his fingers against her walls as she clenched down against him. His tongue dripping with spit and arousal. His cock ached and smeared precum on the bed, but he was far from done.

Finally releasing her thigh, Ace moved both his hands to her waist, lifting her body up for him. Eagerly eating out her dripping cunt as she squeezed against his face. It fell from his chin as he ate her out messily, the lewd sounds turning him on further as he thrust his tongue in deep. Curling up against a spot that made her tremble relentlessly.

“A-Ace! Ace! O-Oh Ace—y-yes! Ah~!” Saki moaned, arching up into his lips and hands, creaming on his tongue. Ace swallowed harshly, lapping up the excess and chasing it as it ran down her thighs eagerly. Cleaning up her soaked cunt, lungs aching as he caught his breath.

“You’re lucky I’m hard as a rock, Saki. Otherwise you wouldn’t get me off your sweet lips with sea stone.” Ace panted, wiping off his chin with a grin. Saki was flushed and panting, eyes wet with unshed tears.

“S-Shut the fuck up, Ace!” Saki whined. Ace pressed a cheeky kiss to her clit.

“The only way you’ll do that is if you let me kiss you.” Ace winked, licking her trembling cunt again. Saki reached down and pulled him up. Slamming her lips into his with a moan.

Ace chuckled against her lips, lifting up one of her legs to place it on his shoulder. Bracing himself on one hand, Ace let his cock slip against her cunt. Coating it in the mixture of spit and arousal before placing the tip against her. With his tongue dominating the kiss, he was treated to the intimate feeling of her moan as he split her open. Hotter than the water they left, Ace groaned as he slowly bottomed up in the tight squeeze.

Despite his aching cock, Ace kept a slow pace. Thrusting against Saki as he tasted her soft cries. Crowding her against the futon as she was pinned open for him. He made sure to reach deeply, panting into her lips as he started going faster. Harder.

“Ace!” Saki yelped, her ankle digging into his spine. Ace let go of her leg, now confident she would hold onto him. Roughly toying with her breasts as he slammed against her thighs, causing her whole body to jerk under him.

“I’m not too much for you, am I Saki?” Ace taunted, eyeing her bouncing tits and the many marks he made. “Not regretting letting me fuck you in half, are you?”

“No! N-No! A-Ace—ooooh! Ace! Ace!” Saki cried out, trembling around him as he kissed her exposed neck. Tasting her heartbeat with his tongue. Her other leg curled around his hips, pulling him closer as he bit down hard. Groaning as she clenched down on his thick cock.

“Fuck yes. Keep it up, pretty baby. Take it for me.” Ace groaned, bracing himself as he picked up her other leg and threw it over his shoulder. Now railing into her plush thighs hard. “Fuck! Look at you, fucked out on my cock. You like that? Like being split open on my cock, baby?” Ace growled.

Saki nodded, the motion stuttered under his rough thrusts.

“Yes! Yes! I-I love it!” Saki mewled, trembling and crying out for him.

“Then why aren’t you cumming for me? Do I need to fuck you harder, Sa-ki?” Ace panted, shoving his knees under her body to lift up her hips. “This is all for you. It’s only fair that you take everything that’s yours… and I take everything that’s mine. What do you need Sa-ki ba-by? Tell me what will make you cum.”

“O-Oh, yes! A-Ace please f-fuck me harder~!” Saki moaned. Ace eager to do so, slammed down against her, letting the bounce against her ass grow harsh as he fucked her. “C-Cum! I-I w-want it! Please!” Saki screamed.

Ace, startled, slamming down to the hilt and without thought, came. Pouring into her quivering cunt as she moaned, squeezing his pulsing cock. The both of them riding out their high.

Ace was stunned. She… actually came just from that... Slowly, carefully, Ace pulled out. Watching the thick mixture drip from her cunt. His cock throbbed as he grew hard again.

Ace grinned, effortlessly holding up her trembling body as he bit her thigh. Watching as she clenched down, more of his cum dripping from her. His. All of it his, as it should be. He smeared his finger into the thick stream and pushed it back in.

“Teasing me for months and now you waste my cum? Tsk.” Ace chided Saki softly. Lifting up her knees and bracing them against her breasts. Fat of her thighs and tits struggling in the narrow space. Ace’s cock throbbed. “I’m sure you’ll get it right this time.”

Ace speared into her cunt again, the slide effortless despite the tight squeeze.

Saki moaned loudly, struggling to arch her back against the pressure on her knees keeping her down and open.

Ace couldn’t help but give a lewd laugh, kissing her panting lips as he sank deep.

“We have so much to catch up on.” Ace promised. “So, you’re going to take it this time, right? Cause you’re mine. Right?” Ace whispered as Saki trembled.

“Y-Yours!” Saki cried out.

“Good.” Ace growled, fucking her into the futon with lewd, wet slaps. Saki’s voice slurring in a litany of cries and agreement to everything he said.

And Ace encouraged her debauched desperation with his own eagerness. Driving her wild and over the edge again and again until they were exhausted.

Saki looked good in the onsen, naked and wet. But she looked divine in his arms, thighs dripping with his cum and littered with hickeys. At this point, Ace didn’t care if he had to thank his brothers or his own poor sense of direction. He was just glad he finally got touch every inch of Saki’s soft body.

“… Love you, ‘ce.” Saki breathed against his neck, closing her eyes as exhaustion finally took her out. His cock throbbed but went ignored, slowly slipping out of her cunt as it softened. Ace grunted as it fell, resting heavily between her thighs in a lewd smear of cum.

“Love you too, Saki.” Ace whispered back, pulling the blanket over them both before following her into sleep.

#one piece smut #december event 2022 #one piece #fire fist ace #ace smut #AceXOC #rip their neighbors #hopefully the bros did everyone a favor and ensured no one shared any walls with them lmao #doubt they expected their plan to succeed this well tho

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philliamwrites · 2 years

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TDWC 08: Secrets of the Forgotten

Pairing: House Leaders x gn! Reader

Warnings: canon divergence, slow burn

Summary: “Please, don’t mind me at all,” Claude beams, his grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s. Dimitri’s scowl deepens more. His eyes turn into the blue of an icy-cold glacier dominating the coastline of Faerghus in the North. “I do, actually. I wish to speak with the Herald in private.” “Then get in line for an appointment. Our Herald is very popular with folks, as you know.” And with that, he closes the door in Dimitri’s face.

Notes: [01] | 07 | 09

Words: 9.7k

A/N: huge thanks to @raindrops-on-the-roof for joining me on this ride and being my beta-reader!!

i lived, bitch. it's been so long but after a year, i'm back with the next chapter and it was ton of fun working on it becase we're finally introduced to a new figure and get some original content. also claude's a menace and that's what we all want. enjoy!

08: Secrets of the Forgotten

But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch’s high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.

— Edgar Allan Poe, “The Haunted Palace”

The underground canals running through Abyss, like veins moving blood through the body, are dirty and smell of human waste and decay, but Balthus plays a hand much dirtier and everyone huddling around the small, crooked table in Wilting Rose Inn groans in unison. Except for Byleth. She shows her own cards, a Royal Flush, and earns a round of earnest applause. You try catching her eye to find out whether she has turned time back in her favour but her ever-steady gaze doesn’t betray anything.

“Okay, lesson learnt.” Balthus gets up and stretches, putting his taut muscles on full display. “I never imagined there could be someone worse than Yuri out there. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Is Yuri really that bad?” you ask, throwing your Flush on the table.

Balthus gives you a seldom serious look. “You have no idea.”

It’s certainly not that hard to imagine. He sometimes has this intense, piercing gaze in his eyes when he talks about knights patrolling too close to Abyss’ entrances for his liking, even though his whole body is a picture of relaxed serenity. He’s an amazing actor, you can give him that.

“Another round?” Byleth asks, already shuffling the cards expertly with her slender fingers. Apparently, part of being a mercenary also entails having an amazing poker face and constantly winning at card games.

“Oh, no, no, I think I’m on guard duty,” Marco, the Rogue, says and flees.

“I forgot I promised to check if there’s enough candle wax to … remake candles,” Ethan, the Marksman, says and bolts.

“These are the men supposed to protect us,” Barbara, the Smith, sighs. “Yet they fear their pride won’t stand after losing a game to a woman.” She gives Byleth a scrutinising look that is also approving at the same time and follows her comrades. The rest of the crowd scatters like butterflies fluttering away after being disturbed from their peaceful slumber.

“That Barbara.” Balthus shakes his head. “Can’t say I know anyone more capable of making grown men feel like little boys.”

“I like her,” you admit. “She doesn’t call me the Archbishop’s Lapdog.” Like most Abyssians.

“Just give everyone some time.” Balthus’ grin is part amusement, part pity as he gives your shoulder two hard claps to bid you good night. “They’ll see in no time you’re no church stuck-up.”

You aren’t so sure about that. You have been down here for a couple of days only, engaging in fights, defending the place against the mercenaries and bandits that wander into Abyss—on accident or on order still remains a question. It was obvious that fighting a few battles for them would not change their mind so quickly—a few good deeds did not undo the year-long abuse and persecution most of the Abyss dwellers had to suffer. You doubt you alone can heal those wounds, yet still there is a fierce fire burning inside you, a light blazing to banish all the shadows clinging to their pained hearts.

Not for the church’s sake, you’ve realised quickly, but for the Herald’s, for the first one loved Fódlan’s people; loves Fódlan’s people still. Every night you lie in your dark quarters, a single, tiny room with nothing but slatted frames and a thin blanket for a bed, nothing feels surer and more honest than this feeling Seiros’ Champion allows you to glimpse as if what it means to be the Herald is that simple.

And simple it is, for if you cannot remember your identity, your wishes and dreams and ambitions, you can take his on until you have figured it out for yourself; surround yourself with them just like you donned his ceremonial robes at the very beginning.

If Byleth questions your new-found vigour for battle, for tactics and schemes on the battlefield, she hasn’t voiced it yet. Or, maybe she is simply too occupied trying to understand the cards Fate has dealt her.

The Wilting Rose Inn clears out as the candles burn down until only a few loyal patrons remain in their respective, quiet corners. It becomes easier to talk to Byleth, since you cannot be sure who might be listening in, ready to forward information to Yuri and give him whatever reason to put your head on a stake. Not that he would actually do something like that. At least, you hope he would not do something like that.

You also realise how much you missed just being in her presence, and they become the only short moments during the day when you allow yourself to relax and droop your shoulders whenever exhaustion weighs you down.

Today, Byleth has made it her personal mission to teach you wood-carving. It goes as expected: you’ve cut yourself three times and have nothing to show for but a misshapen try at a cat that bears more resemblance to a stone you might find in one of Abyss’ gutters.

“I am,” you say as the sharp edge nicks your thumb once more, “a danger to myself and everyone around me.”

“Good thing I’m the only one here then.” Byleth gently takes the knife from you as if you are a toddler and only to be trusted with tools that are highly unlikely to chop your limbs off. Like a spoon. You’ll remind her of that next time she pushes a sword into your hands and demands you to participate in another sparring session. “I’m not as practised in magic and Tome wielding as Linhardt or Lysithea, but I am sure you still need all your fingers to conjure spells.”

“I could try it with my toes.” You wiggle your bloodied fingers at her like the boogie man. “Become the first Warlock that casts Dark magic with their feet.”

The smile that tugs at the corners of Byleth’s mouth is a greater victory than having chased off the bandits yesterday. It is followed by a frown though, one so light, the softest shift in her brows that you wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for the long hours during tea-time you spent studying the planes and features of her face like an artist might while studying their muse.

She leans back in her creaking chair and pockets her knife inside the hidden sheath strapped around her upper thigh. “We are making slow progress uncovering who is after Yuri and his friends,” Byleth says. “I know we’ve been through this already, but any guesses?”

“You’d think with how often we got rid of them by now, they would realise trying to drive the underground residents away is a waste of time. Whoever pays them must hold a serious grudge, why else would they spend so much money on sending mercs in here?”

A shadow passes Byleth’s eyes. “Unless these kids know more and are hiding the true reason someone would be after them.”

You understand her concern. You two have agreed to help, but your official duties and first responsibilities lie in taking care of the academy’s students and seeing that no harm comes to them. Which is no easy task as they so readily throw themselves into defending the Abyssians.

“I … I don’t think that is the case.”

Byleth simply lifts an eyebrow, urging you to go on.

“I can’t explain it very well. I just don’t think they have anything bad in mind. I don’t think there is a reason to doubt them.”

It doesn’t make sense, and yet you know Byleth is the last one to argue against a point like that. This quiet, strange connection that exists between you two is undeniable—just like the sun’s travel over the skies and that it lies to rest in the West and rises again in the East, day by day. Everything is connected, you just have to find out who is spinning the thread of your Fates together.

“I really thought they were trouble at first,” Byleth says and gestures to the barman to bring another round. “Especially Yuri. He is cunning and sharp, a dangerous combination for a leader.”

“I’d like to think he is hiding a warm, pleasant core beneath all that scheming and calculating,” you say, taking the drink the moment the bartender leaves it at your table. “Hiding it somewhere very, very deep.”

A corner of Byleth’s mouth twitches. She’s holding her own glass, lazily swirling the amber liquid in circles. “He is young, but I would not put it past him to hold ulterior motives. Promise me to be careful around him.”

“He and his lot helped me before they knew I was the Herald,” you concede, thinking back to Constance’s reaction after you woke up. “They simply saw someone in need of help, that’s all.” Since then, it has not occurred to you even once that they might be criminals hiding away under the church’s nose. You still think of Alfons and Briana’s small faces, their round button-noses and large eyes as they look up at Yuri in adoration. They deserve so much more than hiding away in some dark, rotting cellars.

You swallow your shot in one go, and instantly begin to cough and pound your chest as it goes down burning. Byleth knocks her glass back without any problem and swallows the burning liquid as if it were water. You still blink against the tears stinging in your eyes.

“You sound like you trust them already,” Byleth says and waves for another round. You try to share a mildly concerned look with the bartender, but he ignores you and slides two more shot glasses in front of your noses.

“Trust is maybe a little much,” you mumble, thinking of Yuri’s sharp smile, the way Hapi struggles and fails not to roll her eyes whenever you offer some insight with your Crest. “But I don’t think they’re bad. Or evil.”

Byleth nods, either because she has come to the same conclusion or because she puts trust in your decision not to doubt them. She downs another shot, looks at you expectantly. You scramble for another topic, anything that will save your throat from burning up a second time with this goddess-forsaken liquor.

Inevitably, your eyes fall on the sword strapped to her waist, only to call it a sword puts any blacksmith who has mastered the art of steel and iron to shame, and you have no desire to meet the one responsible for this craft, the one that bends bone and magic to their will. Byleth follows your gaze. Her hand rests on the hilt, hesitantly at first. You don’t think you have ever seen her hesitate before.

“The Sword of the Creator,” you mumble. “What does that even mean?” Has the Progenitor God truly wielded such a thing? What kind of goddess was she to come up with such a hideous weapon, to forge the Heroes’ Relics in such a portrayal and present them as gifts to humanity? It is like receiving an apple and only finding the core rotten and inhabited with worms after you have taken a bite. You wonder if this repulsive fascination is you or Seiros’ Champion, yet he remains silent.

Byleth stares into her glass as if the answers for all her questions lie hidden at the bottom and by drinking fast enough, she can unravel them. You are pretty sure that is how people become drunkards.

“Holding the sword … wielding it.” Byleth searches your gaze. “It felt raw. Unlike anything I have ever felt, and yet...” Her nimble fingers dance across the hilt once more, halt at the round socket where it seems that something spherical is missing. When she locks eyes with you, something tells you this is something she has not even told her students. Maybe she can’t tell them. Maybe, just like you feel with her, she feels that honesty comes easier when only you are around. You take a sip from your glass, welcoming for once the biting heat that forces you to shut your eyes and turn your head away.

Why can’t you tell her about the first Herald? Why do you want to keep his existence within you a secret? You listen for his voice, his opinion on the matter, but Seiros’ Champion is still silent, and you hope it doesn’t stay that way in matters of life or death. What is the use of an ancient dwelling inside your heart when he does not share in his unending knowledge and experience?

“And yet, it felt right,” Byleth finishes, cutting off your thoughts, and somehow you can easily imagine what she had felt—for the very same could be said about meeting the Herald. Right, natural. Like returning home. “I wonder … if there is any truth to the people’s claims that only a descendant of the King of Liberation would be able to use its power the way I did.”

You’ve read the historic texts on Nemesis, the King of Liberation. How the goddess gifted him the sword to use its power to save Fódlan from wicked gods over a thousand years ago. He liberated the people from their thralldom and thus was named King and Beloved of the people until the sword’s heavenly power, too terrifying and mighty for any mortal to bear, corrupted him and he turned to the darkness, waging war across the land and thus forcing Seiros to destroy him. It strengthens your belief that whatever benevolence the Goddess gifts her patrons, the price to pay in the end seems too high.

“I hope,” Byleth continues, “Professor Hanneman will have answers to that when we return. I still do not quite understand why Rhea has allowed me to keep it.”

“Is there any explanation as to why it was her sword inside the tomb and not the remains of Saint Seiros?” you ask. It would also beg the question where they are instead. But Byleth shakes her head.

“There wasn’t much time to go into details,” she says. Her fingers linger just a moment longer on the sword, before she withdraws them—a little reluctantly. “When you disappeared, we moved heaven and hell to find you. It was by mere luck Claude spotted one of the Abyssians disappear inside a passageway under the Abbey.”

“I hate how no one told us,” you say. “You would think a whole bunch of people living under the monastery is worth mentioning at some point after appointing us to our positions.”

“I’d like to think there was a reason for keeping silent about it,” Byleth says though even she doesn’t sound sure, and it strikes you as odd. Not Byleth doubting Rhea, but her not being sure about something. “A reason I can’t wait to hear once we’re back on the surface.” She reaches across the table, presenting her open palm to your hand holding your glass. You surrender and give it to her, watching a little too intently when her throat bobs as she swallows another round.

“Yuri expects another attack on the Abyss soon,” Byleth continues and rises to her feet. She stretches like a cat in the sun. “We should head to bed and rest up. I wouldn’t want a repeat of the last battle.”

“Oh, come on, it was not that bad.”

“You almost fell asleep from exhaustion when those two Grapplers advanced,” Byleth says, using her Professor voice on you.

You can’t help but grin. “And just like I predicted, you came and saved me.” Byleth’s mouth twitches into a flat line, but you can see that she is pleased. “Pulling an all-nighter to study the maps and outline of Abyss and the secrets it has to offer was a good idea. There are some interesting chambers holding traps and pitfalls. Whoever built this place really wanted to keep people away.”

“Makes you think what could be hiding deeper down in Abyss,” Byleth thinks aloud. “And maybe one of the next bandits will be kind enough to tell us.”

You nod. It was Claude’s idea to take someone captive and get answers from them, and hopefully shed some light on what it is exactly that their employer wants from Abyss.

Byleth escorts you to your chamber, your quiet voices bouncing off the damp walls in the dark corridor that stretch away into unprepossessing shadows. Unlike up in the monastery, the walls here are bare of tapestries and sometimes even of torches which makes traversing the tunnels difficult. You’ve let Linhardt show you simple fire spells to have a source of light on you.

“But it would be far easier if you learnt Light Magic,” he had commented as you two bent over scrolls and books, fighting a yawn. “Also much safer and highly unlikely to set yourself on fire.”

You had closed the tome he’d slid across the table to you, smiling stiffly. “Duly noted.”

The flame dancing across your palm now flickers but doesn’t waver, illuminating the corridor and painting Byleth’s face with a sheen of soft, amber light, giving her pale complexion a little colour. She is watching you conjuring the spell; how your fingers close around the flame as if it were a small beating heart, easily snuffed out whenever a breeze swipes through the corridors.

“I see your Magic Prowess is growing,” Byleth notes. “As is your ability to hold your own ground on the battlefield. You’ve grown used to fighting.”

That isn’t a compliment you had ever thought someone would tell you, but coming from Byleth, you know it is true. You have noticed it yourself—how with every battle it gets easier to see the enemy’s movements and abilities, their weapons and gear. Calling upon the power of the Herald’s Crest, usually a taxing and draining endeavour that left you resting up in your chambers, has become much easier since you have met Seiros’ Champion. Whenever he makes his presence known with quiet whispers of where to lead your students next, soft pushes as if he is placing his small child’s hand upon your shoulder to guide you to victory, his support is like wind in your sails, propelling you forward and lifting your courage.

“You are not as scared as you were in the beginning,” she continues. “You have never much wavered in your tactics, but you seem even more sure now.”

All that praise from her makes your ears scald with heat. Though praise it seems, you know that Byleth only speaks truth. “I have finally started to trust in my abilities. If people see me doubt, how can they follow where I lead them in battle?” you say, even though that is not entirely the truth, of course. Which is why you hastily add, “And I trust you. As long as you are by my side, we are invincible.”

“So it is,” Byleth says, turning her head so that her moss-green eyes dig into you like hooks. “And yet I wonder. This courage, is it just because you wish to defend Abyss? To prove yourself before Yuri and his companions. Or is there something else? Something that you want to share with me?”

You both pause in front of the door leading to your quarters, the silence smothering you like a heavy blanket of freshly fallen snow that puts everything into a deep slumber. No matter how much you dig through that snow though, you can’t find the resolve to tell her about Seiros’ Champion. Where would you even begin to explain?

It might seem that I have turned mad but believe me when I tell you the soul of the first Herald resides within me and sometimes, he whispers to me what I should do, and he likes to gossip from time to time as well. He seems fond of Edelgard in particular, and notices whenever she looks at you, but you choose not to see it.

You stare at her, not entirely sure what you are waiting for. Maybe that Byleth learns how to read your thoughts so you wouldn’t have to speak these outlandish things aloud. Instead, you say, “No. There is nothing.”

Byleth considers you for a moment. You make it a point not to shy away from her scrutinising gaze, as one would do with nothing to hide, you assume. In the end, she relents first, but not because she grants you an easy victory. You’re certain she knows when it is wise to return to a battle at a later time. “I see,” she says mildly. “Rest up, then. I will see you tomorrow.”

You watch her disappear down the hallway, the blade at her side peeking out from under her black robes like a sly wink; like a promise waiting for the right time to jump out of the shadows and strike you in the back. It occurs to you then, for the first time, that maybe the timely meeting with Seiros’ Champion and Byleth activating the power of the Sword of the Creator might be connected.

The Chalice of Beginnings. The way it all ties back to the Rite of Rising, the very same festivities used as a distraction to try and steal Seiros’ remains—unless the Western Church somehow knew what they would find inside the tomb would be something entirely different—and ultimately the reason you are all down here … calling it simply coincidence is like cooing at a fox shortly before it snaps with sharp fangs at you. It is hard to tell what play you are conducting on the stage unknown forces have set you upon. All you can hope for is that it doesn’t end up being a tragedy.

With the scrolls, papers and books Aelfric was kind enough to lend you spread over the make-shift workplace you’ve put together using crates, you’re spending the evening reading up on the Rite of Passing and the Four Apostles. Even though some of the texts are so badly damaged you can barely make out their content, it all matches with what Aelfric has already told you: the ritual is believed to have the power to resurrect a life that was lost using the chalice which only the Four Apostles had access to. After the ritual failed, they bound the chalice so that it would never fall into mortal hands. Capable of something that grand, it is no wonder whoever is after it throws ambush after ambush at the Abyssians in hopes to find crumbs leading to where this treasure of immeasurable worth might be.

But if that chalice really exists, where is it? To search for the Chasm of Bound below Abyss feels like trying to find a needle in a haystack. There is no telling how much time you have left before either Rhea demands everyone’s presence back or you are unable to protect the Abyssians any longer from the mob of greedy thugs.

“Knock knock,” a voice says from the entrance to your room.

You startle, too lost in thought to notice anyone approaching. Claude is leaning against the doorframe, having come up behind you as silent as a cat. He has changed out of his gear, wearing loose dark trousers tied at the waist, and a simple white shirt that stands in contrast against his tanned skin. The first buttons of his collar are open, showing the elegant curves of his collarbones. His dark hair is damp, curling against his temples and the nape of his neck.

“Did something happen?” you ask, moving in alarm to rise from your seat, though surely, he wouldn’t lean so leisurely and relaxed against the door if there was another attack. He confirms as much with a lazy wave of his hand, unhitching himself from the frame. “Nope, nothing to worry about. I just thought I’d drop by and say hi. Do you know how difficult it is to pin you down? You’ve gotten really busy since we’ve come down here.”

“You know, no rest for the wicked.” You try to restore order on your desk by organising the books and scrolls in one corner. You’ve completely lost track of time, and as it turns out, magical fire is incapable of burning candles to their wick, so there is really no telling how long you’ve been holed up in your room, studying the ancient texts. “Do you need something?”

“Just thought we’d have a nice, pleasant chat.” The smile flirting with Claude’s lips is dangerous for it tries to appear innocent, yet the way his green eyes glint with mischief, like the edge of a knife flashing as it is drawn from a hidden sheath, promises nothing good. “Been a while since we’ve had one of those.”

You can’t remember if you have ever had one with Claude. Maybe all those moons ago after you had awoken with your new power, which now feels like a lifetime ago. You lean back in your chair, allowing your eyes a break after all those hours of reading. Maybe this distraction might help.

“Okay, I’m all yours.” You stand up, waving at the chair to offer Claude a place to sit, and absolutely missing the way he shoots you an amused glance at your choice of words. Instead of taking up your offer though, he steps backward. Suspicion crawls up your back, feathery light like a spider making its way to new prey caught in its web.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Claude says and with a swift kick, shuts the door behind him. You stare at him, tongue-tied. Can students just do that with faculty members? Yuri’s voice creeps up from a dark corner in your memory: “You’d do well to keep in mind that the monastery rules don’t apply down here, Herald.”

“I just have a few questions, is all,” he continues, still smiling but anything pleasant in his voice has made room for an urgency that you can’t remember ever having heard coming from him. Claude crosses the room in quick strides, and leans his hips sideways against the table. His eyes flick over the remaining texts on your table, his head slightly cocking to one side to get a better angle to read them. When you clear your throat, he startles, and looks back up at you.

“Right, sorry.” He knows that you know that he, in fact, is not sorry. “The library here has some pretty interesting things, I gotta say. Books and scrolls you’d never find in the monastery’s library. There are some things that are hard to believe, though. There’s this funny book hidden inside a false cover that talks about a Distance Viewer and Flammable Black Water and a Metal-Hold Printing Machine. Imagine the technological advancement one of the nations would achieve if they could actually build and utilise devices like that.”

“Is that why you’re here?” you ask. “To talk about the Abyss’ book collection?”

“What? No. No, I—,” he begins, tapping his slender fingers impatiently against the wood. You don’t think you have ever seen this restlessness about him. Claude has always appeared as steady as his bow-hand, sure that wherever he aims the shot will land true. “I was just wondering if something happened after your fall down here. Something you can’t tell us.”

You feel as if ice water has been dumped down the back of your neck, shocking you to full alertness. Claude must see that he has caught you off guard; a look of hesitancy flashes across your face before you can speak. “And what would that something be, exactly?”

He lowers his voice. “I thought you might tell me.”

You stare at him, throat tight, the cold sweat sensation of anxiety spreading slowly through your limbs. “Nothing happened. Whatever gave you the idea that I’m hiding something from you guys?”

There is a moment of silence as you two trade a look that feels like a dare. There is something forbidding about the intensity of Claude’s gaze, the tension of his stillness. His fingers stop their rhythmic tap tap against the table, and now clutch onto its edge, his knuckles turning white. “I’ve always figured your reservation towards using your Crest came from the novelty of it. The foreignness of a power that isn’t yours. But in our recent battles, there’s nothing of that anymore.

“I thought maybe it’s because you met the Ashen Wolves and the people from Abyss, and you feel sympathy towards them and that’s giving you a little more oomph to try making use of the Crest. But that’s not it, is it? You’ve changed from despising the powers to fully embracing them. Wielding them as if you’ve never done anything else in your life.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips, and you don’t miss Claude’s eyes quickly jumping down to your mouth for a second. Or maybe it was just your imagination, the flickering shadow of the small candle’s light across his face. “Maybe I’ve just grown used to it,” you reply quietly.

“Herald, you grow used to balding or riding a new steed.” He looks at you sharply, his head tilted to the side. Something in his voice changes in that moment. “You don’t get used to something that changes your life from being a nobody to suddenly standing in the centre of the world. Not really.” His voice has a veneer of calm, but beneath you could hear the vibration of some very different emotion.

What changed for you, then? you want to ask. It doesn’t feel like the answer would be so simple as the appointment to the heir of the Leicester Alliance.

You shift, folding your arms in front of you for lack of a response. As much as you like to discount Claude’s tendency for plots and schemes, there is something disconcertingly earnest about him right now. The similarity is striking you all of a sudden, the shadow passing his eyes one you have already seen in Sylvain’s when he had tried talking about his Crest and its troubles.

“All I’m saying is,” Claude continues, and he takes a step towards you. Instinctively, you take one back. He takes another one. This goes on until it ends with your back against the wall. “All I’m saying is that maybe Teach finding her new shiny weapon triggered something in you,” he says now, propping himself up against the wall, his hand splayed beside your head. “Maybe a memory? Something like that?”

You hold his gaze, not shying away from his scrutinising eyes or the close proximity. So, you are not the only one thinking that the Sword of the Creator and the Crest of the Herald are connected in a way the other Crests are not. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Claude, of all people, is the first to have noticed it. You had simply failed—or underestimated him, rather—to anticipate that he would also act on that theory and corner you like a mouse to get answers. Literally.

“Nothing like that happened, Claude,” you say now, feeling like you’re walking on a lightrope, and a single misplaced word could send you plunging. And then, he is there, his presence like the light brush of soft flower petals against the back of your mind. Do not tell him yet. Do not tell anyone yet, I ask of you. I do not wish the world to know I still exist. Silly Champion of Seiros. You’ve already understood his feelings perfectly without him having to tell you.

“Somehow, I was given this power. I tried fighting it for so long, but there’s no way I can run from this. I realised that, so now I’m just trying to make the best out of it.” It is only half the truth, but that is something Claude doesn’t need to know. It is also something he didn’t want to hearyou realise as you watch his expression turn into something close to disappointment.

“I’m sure Lady Rhea would enjoy hearing this,” Claude says, his voice deep and thin like a knife’s edge—and just as sharp.

“You’re not very subtle, Claude.” You try to move past him, but he doesn’t budge. “What’s your problem?”

“Problem? There is no problem.” The mask of bored indifference slips back on his face, turning his eyes distant, and cold even. An easy smile stretches over his features, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I just enjoy teasing you.”

“And maybe I’ll enjoy sticking a dagger in your side.”

Claude laughs. “That’s not very Heraldy of you.”

You try to see if that laugh means you’re good, but his eyes are closed doors. Your face must be a question mark, because he says, “Herald,” and touches your cheek gently, grazing your skin with the rough pads of his fingers. You inhale sharply, gaze snapping up to his. Claude’s eyes widen, realising what he’s doing only then, and his warm, calloused fingers freeze against your cheek.

Just as he opens his mouth, knocks come from your front door. He lifts an eyebrow at you, asking if you are expecting visitors at this time. You just shrug. You certainly didn’t expect him, and yet here he is.

Claude pushes himself off the wall, allowing you to cross the room and open the door a crack wide. Through the narrow opening you see Dimitri standing in the hallway. When he spies you glancing at him, he gives you a shy smile that quickly turns into a scowl when Claude comes up behind you. He presses his chest against your back and leans an arm against the door frame above your head. “Oh, Dimitri?” Claude drawls.

Dimitri pales as he sees, and certainly misunderstands the sudden intimate proximity Claude is displaying. He presses his mouth into a thin line. “Pardon the intrusion, Herald. I thought maybe this would be a good moment to review the last battle reports. But I see…,” and here his eyes dart over to Claude and sweep over him as if he were a particularly unpleasant surprise he found under his bed, “… you are preoccupied.”

“Please, don’t mind me at all,” Claude beams, his grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s.

Dimitri’s scowl deepens more. His eyes turn into the blue of an icy-cold glacier dominating the coastline of Faerghus in the North. “I do, actually. I wish to speak with the Herald in private.”

“Then get in line for an appointment. Our Herald is very popular with folks, as you know.” And with that, he closes the door in Dimitri’s face.

You’re pretty sure Dimitri on the other side is wearing the same expression of dumbfounded surprise that is on your face. “What is going on with you, Claude?” you ask and turn to him, forgetting how close he is. When you almost bump into his chest, you take a hurried step to the side. “The way you are acting is unbecoming of someone with your station.”

Claude shrugs. “Don’t worry, Dimitri won’t take it to heart. It’s just that things have started to happen that don’t make sense, and I am all about making sense of the senseless.” He looks over at you, smiling. “Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

You’re spared the eye roll for an answer when distant bell ringing heralds another ambush on Abyss. Claude heaves a long, weary sigh. “No rest for the wicked, huh…” He turns to open the door, but except a little rattle, nothing happens, no matter how hard he shakes at the handle.

“Come on,” you say, unable to contain the urgency in your voice. “Open the door.”

“Well.” He turns around. “It appears that it is stuck.”

Your eyes go wide. “Then unstuck it.”

Claude throws himself against the door. It doesn’t budge. He curses. “My shoulder will never be the same. I expect you to nurse me back to health when this is over.”

“This is your fault,” you press out between gritted teeth. “Just break the door down, we can’t waste more time.”

“That’s what I’m—,” Claude throws himself once more against the hard wood, “—trying.”

There’s a loud crack and the door opens to the other side; not by swinging but by being lifted out of its hinges. Behind it, Dimitri is peeking around the frame, eyebrows raised to his hairline. “I thought you two might be in need of some assistance.”

“Yeah, I was … I was about to do the same,” Claude says.

You push him aside, hurrying down the corridor and waving them after you. “Lucky for us, Dimitri was faster.”

“No, really!” Claude calls after you. “I was just about to do the same!”

The fight lasted throughout the whole night. When you return to your chamber, drenched in grime and blood, you can’t even be bothered with your missing door and fall face first into your bed, remembering too late that it’s as hard as the ground.

After an hour or two of resting, you quickly clean yourself up and meet the others for a short breakfast of dry rye bread and mushy oats, letting them believe the red bump on your forehead is from the battle. There is a little spare time before the meeting to discuss your next course of action, so you head back to your room for some more shut-eye.

“Herald.”

A raspy whisper stops you, drawing your attention to a chamber you walked past on your way to the classroom many times. Not once has it been occupied since your arrival in Abyss. But now it is decorated with heavy velvet curtains and tapestries. Violet lights hang from lanterns on the ceiling, illuminating the heavy furniture and curtains in soft, misty light. You remember Constance mentioning something about a Wayseer’s room, usually empty, but now inhabited by an elderly woman sitting in an armchair too big for her behind a round, mahogany table. You can only see a pair of narrow, dark eyes staring up at you. Her nose and mouth are hidden behind a white veil.

“Please, do come in, Herald,” the woman croons and gestures to an empty, cushioned chair standing before the table. Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “There is so much we have to discuss.”

Something in your chest gives a sudden, sharp tug. Seiros’ Champion? No, this feels different. Somehow … It feels wrong. You shouldn’t be here. You hover within the doorframe, looking down the corridor left and right. It is like everyone except you two has left Abyss.

Curiosity taking you in its reins, you step into the room, your eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. “Who are you?” you ask, cautiously making your way across the room towards the chair.

The woman chuckles.

“They call me Wayseer, Herald. For I see the paths people have walked and how far they still have to march until they arrive at their destination.”

You pause, hand resting on the chair’s backrest. The wood feels impossibly cold against your skin. “You can see … the future?”

The woman chuckles again. It is the sound of dry leaves scattered by the cold autumn wind. “You mean do I have the same ability as you? Making Time bow to me? Oh no. Nothing of the like. I simply glimpse where I am allowed. No one else has what you wield.”

“Of course.” You sit, quickly swallowing your disappointment.

“Oh, but why frown like that, Herald.” The Wayseer places her hands to both sides of a translucent orb placed before her on a dark socket. You could have sworn it was not there a second ago. They were small hands with lithe fingers like spider legs. On each finger she wore heavy rings. “So many would kill for what you seem not to appreciate. Power. Glory. The chance to sit upon the throne of the world.”

“I would appreciate people not telling me how to feel about it,” you snap, irritation lashing out like a cornered beast. Taken aback, you lean away from her, your back pressed right against the cold chair. It feels as if you are pressing yourself against a solid block of ice. Where did this come from? This fury?

The Wayseer’s lip curls. If she’s taken offence at your irritation, she doesn’t show. She shifts in her seat like a child impatient to finally be allowed to play with a new toy.

“What can you tell me about my paths then?” you ask. There is little you hope for, really. If she tells you she sees you living in a nice house by the sea in twenty years or so, that is all you can ask for. A peaceful life. You would simply be happy hearing you will survive the next few years. And, if she can see where exactly you have come from, then maybe luck really is on your side this time and you can finally find some answers.

“Very well.” The Wayseer’s chuckle is drier than crisp autumn leaves. She holds out her wiry hand and says, “Close your eyes, Herald, and give me your hand.”

You aren’t too keen on skinship with a stranger, but just to humour both of you, you comply, and placing your hand into hers, palm up, you close your eyes. You feel her gnarly fingers dance over your wrist, brushing over your open palm as light as a spider’s touch. You fight a shudder.

The pain is so sudden and jarring like a lightning bolt. Before you can pull your hand back, the Wayseer grabs your wrist hard like a vice—surprisingly strong for someone this old. Her head darts forward and she sucks your bleeding finger into her greedy mouth as if it were water and she is dying of thirst.

“What are you doing?” you demand, fighting to free your hand. Finally, the Wayseer releases your finger with a wet pop from her lips, and for a second you believe to see razor sharp teeth before the veil obscures her mouth again.

The Wayseer smacks her lips and scratches her nails against the smooth surface of her orb. Maybe this is all a joke. If Claude and Hilda jump out from under the table any second and laugh about the silly face you’re making, you wouldn’t even be angry. But no one emerges, and you stay alone with this mad woman. She’s moving her hands in strange motions over the orb, and in response colourful clouds swirl inside the ball. First red, then blue, and golden until, like a storm rolling in, all of a sudden it becomes black.

The Wayseer recoils.

She tries to suck in air as if she is drowning, her eyes bulging like a dead fish’s. She spits on the ground and a shudder wrecks through her, one that has her falling from her armchair onto the ground, her body convulsing. She begins to cough, a horrible, rattling sound, as if there is something stuck deep inside her that she can’t get out. Clawing at her throat, digging her nails deep enough into the skin to tear, she kicks and wails as if set in invisible flames. As if something is burning her up from the inside. Like poison.

You jump to your feet, rounding the table to help her but she screeches and scrambles away from you, eyes ripped wide open. “Who … no, what are you?” she croaks.

“I … I don’t know.” Your voice is so quiet you don’t know if she can even hear you. “I hoped you could tell me.”

The Wayseer turns to the side and spits some more. It is so dark that it almost looks black, whatever that is—blood or maybe something far gruesome?

Did I do that? you think, horrified as you watch her climb to her feet, still shaking and shuddering. You are about to apologise, reaching forward to steady her by her elbow, but the Wayseer shakes your effort away impatiently as if you are nothing but an annoying fly.

“Oh, my dear, you seem forsaken to me,” she says, and you can’t hold back your surprise how easily she bears no mind or grudge to whatever has happened. Whatever you might have caused. “Just like—” She stops. Her eyes are fixed on her orb that is now swirling in undistinguishable shapes. She leans over it, her gaze pining you like a dead animal on a corkboard. “It seems to me that the answers you seek lie in the Shadow Library, Herald,” the Wayseer says now, her voice suddenly smooth like clear water. Or the satin concealing a sharp knife. But what makes your stomach churn is the way she purred “Herald.” Almost mockingly, and you realise the spiking fear in your stomach doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the first Herald.

“Why can’t you tell me?” you ask.

“Because it is not my place to tell you.” The Wayseer casts down her eyes now. Her whole behaviour doesn’t make sense. Making light of the Herald’s name first, now acting obedient. You listen inside for the voice of Seiros’ Champion and find one emotion burning like a beacon in the dark. Get out. She is the enemy.

You jump to your feet, almost knocking the table over. “I have to go.”

“Of course.” The Wayseer bows her head slightly, and from the way her eyes become slits, you can see she is smiling underneath the veil. “But don’t forget, the Shadow Library holds answers. Do not let anyone stop you from chasing the truth.”

You give an awkward nod, not trusting your voice.

When you quickly leave the room and throw a last glance back, you think you see the unfamiliar face of a man staring back at you from inside the Wayseer’s orbs, his eyes eerily white.

The Shadow Library is a dark, damp room tucked away at the end of a narrow hall that is seldom frequented by the Abyssians. When you take a look inside, relief fills you that only Linhardt is currently occupying a seat close to a wall, an uneven stack of books his only companion.

The Wayseer didn’t say specifically where to look, but you would start with records on the first Herald and see what you could turn up about him.

But first, you have to deal with Linhardt who’s napping away in his seat, cheek squished against the edge of an open book.

“Linhardt.” You shake him. “Linhardt!”

He jerks up. “I’m awake,” he lies, blinking sleepily against the dim candle’s light. He looks up at you, squints and seems to recognise who caught him. “Oh, it’s just you, Herald. Come to a late study session as well? Or early morning? It’s certainly hard to tell down here with no sun.”

“How long have you been awake?”

Linhardt thinks about that for a moment, his eyes losing focus, then refocusing again. “Forty-two hours, maybe?”

“Bed. Now.”

He leans back, considering the idea. “We can’t say for how long we’ll have access to this hidden knowledge. Did you know it was only with the founding of the Adrestian Empire that we have the calendar as we know it today. They used to call our moons ‘months,’ if you can believe something this extraordinary! You can’t find data like that up in the monastery’s library.”

“Linhardt,” you repeat. “Go to bed. Or do you want me to get Byleth?”

Linhardt doesn’t need to consider this. He raises to his feet, sways a little from exhaustion, and tugs his uniform in order. “Good night, Herald.”

He turns and moves to the exit, but you call him back. “Linhardt!”

He stops. You point at the table. His mouth twitches into an unpleasant line, the only sight of his disapproval, but he returns, drops the books and scrolls he’s hidden in the folds of his robes, and leaves for good.

Quiet settles, and you give it a minute or two to calm your beating heart. “I know you don’t like this,” you say out loud, hoping Seiros’ Champion might finally stop being so anxious inside you. “I don’t trust that Wayseer either, but if I find answers here, I’ll take anything I can get.” He doesn’t know what it is like not knowing anything. Are you even a real person if you don’t have a past; if you don’t have anything or anyone remembering you? “I have a right to know who I am.”

Unfathomable sadness spills at those words—his mixing with yours and you can’t say who started it. But he quickly recedes, leaving you alone. Somehow you feel even worse now. Lonely. You wonder where he left to where you can’t follow him.

You make your way along the walls of books, allowing your fingers to gently journey over the spines. There are so many stories in here that so few people get to read. This library’s collection appears larger than the monastery’s as well, solely for the fact that they don’t have enough space for all the knowledge cramped into every nook and cranny. Wherever there is even some small additional space, someone has made it their calling to fill that blank spot with a book—even when it doesn’t fit.

Without any idea to start, you continue down the aisle and pick whatever sounds interesting. Letters from heirs to noble houses, an antiquated note on what meat to use for a special dish prepared for the new emperor at ceremonies, a novel set in the Adrestian Empire with a date of removal and Seteth’s signature. So this is where the books end up that Seteth doesn’t allow up in the monastery.

You’d hoped to find more about the Herald down here maybe, but there are no records, no memoirs, not even discourse. Why did no one care to keep your records alive? you wonder, but wherever the boy has retreated to, he can’t hear you, or perhaps, chooses not to hear you.

Nothing sticks out as something truly worthy of Seteth’s scorn at first glance. That is until you find the burnt remnants of a report stating some details on a handful of noble houses, another scroll that talks about a False God and the children of men fleeing to the depths of the earth. One paper strikes you as particularly important, but the page is so old and worn that most of the text is illegible. The Truth of Heroes’ Relics. You wonder what it might be, what truth lies within the relics and their Crests that the writer of this paper finished with the words “I daresay the Goddess would not wish for me to learn more than I already have.”

You finally hit a breakthrough when a stack of papers falls to your feet, bundled together with a crumbling piece of wool. When you begin to read, you realise these are the fragments of a forgotten memoir of someone who had fought in the War of Heroes. With clammy hands, you begin to read.

__/15 - Ailell Forest It has been several moons since King Nemesis was defeated, and the tides of war have turned from bad to worse. I have received news that my friend Daphnel has fallen as well. Those zealots are after our heads, and those of our leaders. All that is left for us is to disappear into the muddy waters Seiros has created. My long life may soon come to an end …

__/2 - Itha Plains I somehow escaped with my life, but I fear the end is near. They tell stories of the Shadowlord’s execution and with him gone, what point is there for us, those who have survived? Those who remain and carry a broken legacy. People are worried, for their Herald has locked himself in his rooms, unwilling to speak to his followers or Saint Seiros. They do not understand how he could be so distraught over the Shadowlord’s death. They do not know the truth. Once more, Seiros has chosen to keep secrets, to play with her charges’ obedience and fear. But I know. The world will know the truth at some point and then Seiros will reap the rotten harvest of what she has sown. I misspoke and was driven away to the Fhirid River. They hunt us like animals. I considered leaving Crusher behind, hiding my trails. Maybe it is too late for that. I wish I could see my wife and son again … just one last time.

You read the content of the worn pages once more, trying to make a sense of it. Daphnel was one of the Ten Heroes, as was the author of this letter—if you remember correctly, the Heroes’ Relic Crusher was wielded by Dominic. It must be from after the corruption if King Nemesis was defeated, but from the way those words are framed, the author doesn’t strike you as someone mad for more power or revenge. It is strange but you feel pity for this person.

There is another name that stands out, of course, one that you have not heard in all your moons since joining the church.

The Shadowlord.

The name is like a brush of icy cold fingers against your mind, as gently as a snake grazing your ankle before it springs forward and sinks its venomous fangs deep into your flesh. A shiver passes your body, only it is settled so deep within your bones that you know this is not your fear rekindled.

But as you focus on chasing after Seiros’ Champion before he can disappear back into the murky depths of your mind, a cough comes from the library’s entrance. Your gaze snaps up to see Yuri standing in the doorway. The look of annoyance on his face is something that deserves its own painting to commemorate it.

“I hope you plan on putting that back exactly where you found it,” he says, strolling over as if he doesn’t have any care in the world but the tense set of his shoulders betrays him. “Wouldn’t want any of that to find its way into the hands of someone from the surface.”

“Don’t you get bored?” you ask, folding the papers back together and pushing them back between two books.

Yuri stops, quickly eyeing what you’ve put away to undoubtedly have a look himself once you leave. “Bored of what?”

“Pretending I’m still the villain and here to sell out your people?”

To your surprise, a look of unabashed amusement lights up his face for a moment. It settles back to a somewhat neutral expression, but the glee still remains in the soft dip of the dimple on his left cheek.

“Better safe than sorry,” Yuri replies, shrugging casually. His nimble fingers dance across book spines. “Though yes, even I must admit that your deeds for the people of Abyss are not what I have expected.” His fingers pause. Yuri leans forward, lilac eyes gleaming. His face is predatory, but his voice is gentle. “You are not what I have expected.”

His words feel like the warm flick of a candle’s light. You didn’t realise until now how much you cared for Yuri’s approval. To think he’s warming up to you slowly might still be an exaggeration, but maybe he’ll grant you the generosity of a looser tongue now that he doesn’t see you as the enemy.

Your eyes skim back to where you’ve returned the letters, fingers itching to take them with you until you know every word by heart. “I’ve … I’ve read about this person. Shadowlord. Any idea who that was?”

Yuri raises a slim eyebrow. “The Shadowlord?” He looks a little puzzled, his eyes roaming over the books. “It’s just a story. A boogie man living in the shadows that steals you away if you don’t finish eating all your vegetables. Grandparents used to tell their grandchildren that story so they wouldn’t be naughty.”

“So just the bad guy in a fairy tale?”

“Is what I’ve heard.” He gives a single shrug. “Who knows. All fairy tales have a spark of truth to them though. Maybe he truly existed.”

You’re sure that is what people thought about the Herald as well until the story became reality. You just hope this particular story remains one.

“Also, I would appreciate it if you don’t go around the monastery telling everyone what you’re reading down here,” Yuri says, waving towards the library’s entrance to signal your late-night reading has come to an end.

You hesitate only a moment before you follow him down the corridor, leaving the books and tomes behind. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Great.” He winks at you. “Saves me the trouble of sneaking into your room and slitting your throat.”

“Charming as always.”

Maybe one day you’ll be capable of holding a pleasant conversation with him without any death threats. Though it already feels as if a little of Yuri’s animosity has disappeared in favour of giving you a chance to prove yourself.

He drops you off at the door to your quarters, already flaunting down the corridor to whatever nightly escapade fancies his tastes without so much as a wave at you over his shoulder.

“That Wayseer,” you say before he can disappear into the shadows. “What’s her deal?”

Yuri stops. He turns slowly, his eyes flitting from the dark corners of the flickering lights on the walls to you. There’s a question in his eyes you don’t know the answer to. “What Wayseer?” he asks, and you can feel your blood run cold. “I know everyone going in and out of Abyss, and I haven’t heard about someone like that hanging around.”

“But that room next to the scrap chamber…”

“Hasn’t been occupied in years.” When Yuri answers this time, he turns around and looks at you a little sceptical but also impatient as if he doesn’t have time for whatever pipe dreams you’ve come up with. “I guess someone played a joke on you. Don’t let it get to you.”

You nod, but your mind still lingers in that room, with that person. It would be easy to brush it off as a joke. But this sense of wrongness spikes again, a kernel of goddess-awful flavour that the more you think about it has you gagging. You had felt an awareness. No. More than awareness, more sentient than that. It was recognition.

A/N: someone over at ao3 made fanart of the first herald and i'm absolutely in love!! check it out here!

if you're interested to join the taglist, please let me know! i want to resume uploads every month, so the next chapter should be up on September 15th. thanks for reading and take care!

#phill.tdwc #fe3h x reader #fe3h dimitri x reader #fe3h claude x reader #fe3h edelgard x reader #dimitri x reader #claude x reader #edelgard x reader #fe3h house leaders x reader #fe3h x oc #fe3h x gn!reader

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toaverse · 2 years

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Everyday Life

Summery: While Agustín still progresses everything that has happened, Bella and Lola get their first actual, proper meal.

Note: So I got inspired by @dragoneyes618 and the fic they wrote, so there's another fic of this AU! Enjoy!

Trigger warning: mention of torture, implied child abuse!

Bella is Isabela; Lola is Dolores.

“Three Bandeja Paisas?” The waitress asks Agustín, a bit flabbergasted at his order.

“Sí.” He answers, quickly thinking of a lie. “I have guests over.”

That isn’t entirely a lie…

The waitress simply shrugs, before writing down his order and walking to some other direction.

Twenty minutes-or-so later, Agustín walks through the hotel halls towards the room he (and now two lost kids) is staying in, carrying three boxes of Bandeja Paisa and two juice boxes while doing so.

All this…certainly wasn’t planned. The plan was to simply visit the city he was born in, maybe visit his parents’ graves, not take in two street kids. Not that Agustín is pissed about the situation, otherwise he would’ve thrown the girls in the first orphanage or back ally nursery he saw, horrendous living conditions and safety be damned. But Agustín isn’t cruel.

Those girls, Bella and Lola, deserve to live a normal life, or at least as far as normal gets for them…

Because they know nothing…

When Agustín asked them how old they were, they said they thought they were sixteen…

When he asked them where their parents were, they asked him what a parent was…

The girls looked at dead grass like it was the most interesting thing in the world…

They didn’t even know how to read a simple sentence…

The girls know absolutely nothing…

They obviously had been abused since they were six years old by four people too cruel and sadistic to imagine (Cesar, Daniela, Marco and Julio, are those devils’ names). The girls were never allowed to go outside, to talk with their peers, to do anything other than to be a punching bag for those four monsters…

They can burn in hell, all four of them…

Seeing his room number, Agustín grabs his key, balances the three boxes, two juice boxes and cutlery on one arm as he unlocks his room and steps inside.

“Bella, Lola, I’m ba- Oh…“ Agustín says, but cuts himself off once he sees the state of the room, nearly dropping the three boxes.

The bed that now only consists of a matras is shoved in a corner. Literally right next to it lays the blanks, sloppily folded with a pillow laying at the end, clearly looking like a bed. At the left side of the room lay two cloths, also sloppily folded, with Bella and Lola standing proudly next to it.

"Ta da!" They both cheer with smiles on their faces.

Agustín looks at the scene with confusion, not knowing what to think of it.

"What- what is this?" He can only ask.

"Our beds!" Bella answers proudly.

"We made one for you too." Lola adds.

Agustín can only stare at the "beds" that the girls have made. They clearly never knew any better. They have never seen a normal bed before. The girls clearly think it's normal to sleep on the floor. At least he has some sort of soft surface to sleep on that’s the matras with a blanket, but Bella and Lola only give themselves each a cloth as a pillow.

They have basically recreated the room they have been held captive in…

"It's...uhm…." Agustín doesn’t finish his answer, deciding to leave it at that. It’s disturbing, but better than having to share a bed to sleep in. He had to share one room with the two girls anyways, since all the other rooms in the inn were currently either booked or currently slept in. It wasn’t proper, but like this, it’s at least manageable. Though he will give them a blanket to keep them warm.

He quickly changes the subject. "I got food."

Hearing those words, the two girls light up, happy that they get food. Agustín goes to sit on the floor with them, and gives them a box of food, juice boxes and cutlery. The girls open it, only to look confused.

"What's that?" Bella asks, staring at her food.

"It's food." Agustín explains. “Bandeja Paisa.”

"A knife?" Lola suddenly asks, looking at the sharp object. After a moment, her eyes widen in horror, and looks up at the nice man. “You want me to…”

Lola doesn’t finish her sentence, as she protectively covers her remaining ear, with Bella already protectively hugging her sister…

That’s all Agustín needs to hear and see to get what the girl means…

His heart froze. There’s no doubt in his mind anymore that the girls have indeed been severely abused. They clearly don’t know what’s normal…

“No! No, I’m not!” He quickly says, instinctively grabbing both knives and forks from the girls before they have the chance to potentially hurt themselves with it.

Bella and Lola look quite confused, but also saddened at the same time, as if fearing they have done something wrong.

“We’re sorry…” Bella says, looking down at the floor.

“We will be good…” Lola adds, still covering her only ear.

Agustín quickly notices the odd mannerism. It’s always us and we, never I or me…

“I…I won’t hurt you.” He says slowly, having said that sentence back when they were outside in the city. “I promise.”

Bella and Lola look at him with big innocent eyes. Agustín is nice. He’s like Julio. Agustín doesn’t hurt them, he won’t hurt them, he just promised. He also tries to teach them new things, small things they don’t know about.

Agustín is like Julio, but he doesn’t leave them.

“You two should eat.” He says, giving the girls two spoons instead of a knife and fork. It may not eat easy, but at least they won’t hurt themselves.

Agustín begins to eat his own food with the knife and fork he has. As he does, he feels like he’s being watched, and looks back up.

He sees that both Bella and Lola are watching him eat, for one reason or another. The girls then look down at their own food, holding their spoons in their hands, and each scoop up some food before putting it in their mouths. They look at him as they chewed, as if silently asking if they have done it correctly.

Agustín feels his heart break all over again. Bella and Lola have clearly only ever ate with their hands, never having used cutlery to eat with, not even a spoon…

With the girls still looking at him, Agustín nods, silently saying that they’ve done it correctly.

That’s all Bella and Lola need to see before they continue eating, repeating the few steps in their head.

Pick up food with spoon, put it in mouth, chew and swallow.

“This tastes good!” Bella calls out with her mouth full, she and Lola now eating at a faster pace as if they haven’t eaten in days, not even acknowledging the juice boxes next to them.

Well, that may or may not be true…

Agustín can’t help but crack a warm smile, seeing the girls eat their their meals happily.

It reminds him of his oldest daughter and niece, when they were still with them, before they got taken away…

Maybe… Maybe Julieta won’t mind having two more daughters to take care of with him?

Agustín mentally berates himself. No, Bella and Lola aren’t…them. They are two lost kids who have been tortured through hell and back, and who are deserving of care and love a different couple will provide.

Tomorrow, will bring them to the Encanto. They will be so happy there. Alma knows everyone in the town, so she certainly knows a childless couple who’d love to take the two girls under their roof.

But now, he will teach the girls about everyday life, or at least as much as he’s able to in one day.

Of course, the girls won’t have it easy. They will have frequent nightmares, among other bumps on their road to recovery. Alma knows like no other.

But Agustín fully believes that things will get better for the girls once they’re in the Encanto. He’s certain.

#kidnapped isa and dolores au #isabela madrigal #dolores madrigal #agustín madrigal #answered ask #toaverse answers #encanto au

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leanstooneside · 3 months

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An idle man is the devil's playfellow

• ME OF THAT

• INN OF AVIGNON

• TIBORS OF MONT

• SPRINGTIME YEA OF WOOD

• GLORY OF TH

• UNDER LEONARDO TERRONE MASTER OF FENCE

• SYMBOLS OF ALL THINGS[10

• MORN OF MY

• BLUE WATERS OF HEAVEN

• KING OF ARAGON

• WAYS OF LOVE

• OUT OF MINE

• ALL ENDS OF THINGS

• PROUDEST GATE LIGURIAN GENOA CORNELIA OF COLOMBO

• HIS LACK OF POMP

• WANDERING OF MANY ROADS

• GHOSTS OF YESTER

• TURRETS OF BEZIERS

• MORE OF DIM

• ASSEMBLER OF SOULS

• JEWELS STRANGE SPELLS OF OLD DEITY

• PALE FLOWERS SLOWMOVING PAGEANTRY OF HOURS

• SOULS OF SONG

• CITIES OF NORTH

• SONG OF PEIRE

• ENSHROUDING CHALICE OF HARD THINGS

• BERTRAN OF BORN

• COLD MOSS WORDS LIP WORDS WORDS OF SLOW STREAMS

• COUNTESS OF BEZIERS

• MARCO LONDONIO'S ITALIAN VERSION OF NEL

• BORDER OF HER

• BEAUTY OF THY

• STAR FIELDS OF ARCTURUS

• TALE PART OF ITOF

• SPONGE OF GALL

• BOWELS OF VESUVIUS

• WRACK OF LIGHTCONTENDING

• WRY'D BROKEN OF ANCIENT PRIDE

• VOLUMEA VISION OF ITALY

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northeystreethouse · 4 months

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Northey Street House B&B A Charming Retreat in the Heart of Hospitality

Nestled in the heart of historic St. Augustine, Florida, the Northey Street House Bed and Breakfast stands as a testament to timeless elegance and warm Southern hospitality. This charming retreat seamlessly blends modern comforts with a touch of old-world charm, offering guests an unforgettable experience in a historic setting.

Historical Significance: Originally built in the late 19th century, the Northey Street House is a beautifully restored Victorian-era home. Its rich history is palpable as soon as you step onto the property, with well-preserved architectural details that transport guests back in time. The inn has been meticulously maintained, allowing visitors to immerse themselves in the stories of yesteryear while still enjoying the conveniences of the present day.

Accommodations: The Northey Street House B&B boasts a variety of accommodations, each uniquely designed to provide a comfortable and memorable stay. From cozy rooms for couples to spacious suites for families, every guest is treated to a blend of period-appropriate furnishings and modern amenities. Plush beds adorned with luxurious linens ensure a restful night's sleep, while the carefully curated decor reflects the inn's commitment to both style and comfort.

Hospitality Beyond Compare: What truly sets Northey Street House apart is its commitment to unparalleled hospitality. The innkeepers, known for their warm and welcoming demeanor, go above and beyond to make guests feel like cherished friends. From personalized recommendations for exploring St. Augustine to thoughtful touches like fresh-baked cookies in the afternoon, the staff ensures that every guest feels pampered and valued throughout their stay.

Gourmet Breakfast Experience: One of the highlights of a stay at Northey Street House is the gourmet breakfast experience. Guests are treated to a delectable spread of locally sourced, homemade dishes that showcase the culinary expertise of the inn's kitchen. The menu changes daily, ensuring that each morning brings a new and delightful surprise. Whether indulging in fluffy pancakes, savory quiches, or fresh fruit parfaits, guests can savor the flavors of St. Augustine with every bite.

Idyllic Gardens and Relaxation: Beyond the charming interiors, Northey Street House features meticulously landscaped gardens that provide a serene escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Guests can unwind on the veranda with a good book, stroll through the gardens filled with vibrant flowers, or simply enjoy a quiet moment in one of the cozy outdoor seating areas. The inn's commitment to creating a peaceful oasis for its guests is evident in every corner of the property.

Proximity to Historic Sites: Conveniently located near St. Augustine's historic district, Northey Street House offers easy access to the city's iconic landmarks and attractions. Guests can explore the cobblestone streets, visit the Castillo de San Marcos, or indulge in the vibrant arts and culture scene, all within walking distance of the inn. The central location allows visitors to immerse themselves in the rich history and charm of America's oldest city.

For those seeking a retreat that seamlessly blends history, hospitality, and modern comfort, the Northey Street House Bed and Breakfast stands as an exemplary choice. From its lovingly restored Victorian architecture to its gourmet breakfasts and impeccable service, this charming inn invites guests to step into a bygone era while enjoying the best of contemporary luxury. A stay at Northey Street House is not just an accommodation; it's a journey into the heart of St. Augustine's rich history and Southern hospitality.

For more info:-

Northey Street House

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dentalddssummitusa · 7 months

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Rolling into Another Year: Navigating Birthday Bliss in St. Augustine

Celebrating another year is a momentous occasion, and where better to unfurl the canvas of birthday bliss than in the historic and vibrant city of St. Augustine. Navigating the festivities in this charming locale involves weaving together a tapestry of experiences that resonate with the city's rich history, cultural allure, and scenic beauty. From planning unique activities to selecting the perfect dining spots, birthday transportation in st augustine offer a myriad of possibilities for creating lasting memories.

Setting the Scene: Choosing the Perfect Venue

The foundation of a memorable birthday celebration lies in selecting the perfect venue. St. Augustine, with its cobblestone streets, historic architecture, and waterfront views, provides a picturesque backdrop for birthday bliss. Whether it's an intimate gathering at a historic inn, a lively soirée at a waterfront restaurant, or a garden party in one of the city's lush parks, the venue sets the scene for the festivities. Consider the ambiance that aligns with the birthday person's preferences, ensuring that every moment is framed in a setting that enhances the joy of celebration.

Culinary Adventures: Indulging the Palate in St. Augustine's Delights

St. Augustine's culinary scene is a feast for the senses, offering a diverse array of flavors that cater to every palate. Birthday celebrations in the city become a culinary adventure, with options ranging from fine dining establishments to quaint cafes serving local delights. Consider the birthday person's favorite cuisine and explore the city's eateries to curate a dining experience that tantalizes the taste buds. From seafood delights to Spanish-inspired dishes, St. Augustine's culinary offerings add a delectable layer to the birthday festivities.

Historical Exploration: Unveiling the City's Past

St. Augustine wears its history with pride, and a birthday celebration in this city is an opportunity to delve into its rich past. Plan a historical exploration that includes visits to iconic landmarks such as the Castillo de San Marcos, the oldest masonry fort in the continental United States, or a stroll through the historic district with its centuries-old buildings and charming boutiques. Engaging in a guided historical tour or a self-guided walk allows birthday celebrants to connect with the city's roots and adds an educational and enriching element to the festivities.

Scenic Strolls: Birthday Bliss Amidst Natural Beauty

Beyond its historical charm, St. Augustine boasts natural beauty that beckons celebrants to enjoy scenic strolls and outdoor activities. The city's waterfront, parks, and nature reserves provide the perfect backdrop for a leisurely birthday celebration. Consider a sunset stroll along the Bayfront or a picnic in one of the lush green spaces. Embracing the city's natural beauty adds a serene and tranquil dimension to the birthday bliss, allowing celebrants to immerse themselves in the picturesque landscapes of St. Augustine.

Artistic Encounters: Inspiring Creativity and Expression

St. Augustine's artistic spirit is evident in its galleries, studios, and vibrant art scene. For a creatively inspired birthday celebration, consider incorporating artistic encounters into the festivities. Attend an art exhibition, participate in a painting or pottery class, or explore the city's vibrant street art. Engaging in artistic activities adds a unique and expressive element to the birthday celebration, allowing celebrants to tap into their creative side and create tangible memories.

Entertainment Extravaganza: Unleashing the Night's Vibrancy

As the day transitions into night, St. Augustine offers a vibrant nightlife scene that sets the stage for an entertainment extravaganza. Plan a celebratory evening with live music at one of the city's music venues, enjoy a performance at the historic St. Augustine Amphitheatre, or savor cocktails at a rooftop bar with panoramic views. The city's nightlife provides the perfect backdrop for an evening of celebration, laughter, and dancing, ensuring that the birthday festivities continue well into the night.

Conclusion: A Tapestry of Memories in St. Augustine

In conclusion, navigating birthday bliss in St. Augustine involves weaving a tapestry of experiences that celebrate the city's charm, history, and cultural allure. From selecting the perfect venue to indulging in culinary delights, exploring historical landmarks, enjoying scenic strolls, embracing artistic encounters, and unleashing the night's vibrancy, the possibilities for creating lasting memories are boundless. St. Augustine becomes not just a backdrop but an active participant in the birthday celebration, contributing its unique flavors, sights, and experiences to the joyous occasion. As another year is rolled into, St. Augustine provides the canvas for a birthday celebration that is as unique and vibrant as the city itself—a celebration that becomes a tapestry of cherished memories woven in the heart of this enchanting locale.

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your-dietician · 2 years

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Naples' Best Hotels: From Nautical to So Nice

New Post has been published on https://medianwire.com/naples-best-hotels-from-nautical-to-so-nice/

Naples' Best Hotels: From Nautical to So Nice

Naples has no shortage of hotels and resorts in all shapes and forms. Many take the form of high-end, full-service beach enclaves where no whim is left unattended. They regularly make it to best-of lists all over the place.

This list, however, expands beyond just the brand-name Naples resorts to let you in on a few of the lesser known gems, some of them away from the beach. For instance, you will of course find the beachfront Ritz-Carlton Naples, one of the most lauded in the brand, but also Park Shore Resort, which resides in a lovely Naples neighborhood and provides shuttles to the beach.

Two of the listings – Cove Inn and Naples Bay Resort – reflect the destination’s maritime reputation with marinas and other amenities for boaters. Another puts you up in the midst of downtown Old Naples actions, while yet another provides comfortable accommodations and easy access to the Florida Everglades.

The listings’ locations range from Bonita Springs to Marco Island, from beach side to downtown and bay side. You have your choice of the best in each location and setting. No matter if your vacation is a twosome getaway or a family destination gathering, the hotels and resorts of the Naples area fit your needs.

Photo courtesy of Chelle Koster Walton

A throwback to Naples’ early resort days, when fishing trumped luxury, this is a friendly place next to the Naples Dock. It resides in the town’s original community, Crayton Cove, circa 1915, and retains that neighborly feel.

The units – most individually owned – range from motel rooms to efficiencies and one- and two-bedroom accommodations with full kitchens. Each unit is decorated in individual style.

Because it has its own marina, Cove Inn welcomes boat-in arrivals. Everyone gathers at the chickee bar for happy hour then disperses to the property’s and nearby Crayton Cove restaurants – all with salty flavor. Its old-fashioned coffee house is a local favorite for breakfast.

Recommended for Best Hotels because: This place preserves the nautical, easy-going spirit of old Naples.

Read more about Cove Inn on Naples Bay →

Photo courtesy of Chelle Koster Walton

For visitors looking for convenience to Naples’ downtown but also neighborhood quietness, Trianon lies a couple of blocks from Fifth Avenue South. Modeled after the famous Trianons on the grounds of Versailles, it exudes European style from its marble lobby and its fireplace to the outdoor pool courtyard and its selection of spacious accommodations. Elegant furnishings and appointments decorate the rooms and one-bedroom suites, each with their own private patio or balcony. All beds are fitted with Tempurpedic mattresses. In the lobby’s library, guests can take advantage of morning continental breakfast, which many enjoy around the lushly landscaped pool, and evening beer or wine.

Recommended for Best Hotels because: Close to downtown’s shopping and dining scene, it is just far enough removed to feel privileged and pampered.

Read more about Naples Bay Resort →

Photo courtesy of Chelle Koster Walton

The biggest resort on Marco Island, which grew in 2019 with a new adult wing and 94 more rooms, also happens to be its best in many ways. It spans a long spread of wide, sugar-sand beach. It has the best swimming pool features, the most full-service spa, some of the island’s best shops, a full range of water sports options and great dining. It also offers two off-site golf courses. The new wing also added a video game experience and bar known as 10K Alley, Tesoro restaurant and terrace lounge, and an adults-only rooftop pool.

Guests feel the glam the minute they walk into the marble lobby with its sweeping staircases down to the pool and beach level. (Guests staying in the adult wing have their own concierge entry.) Families enjoy the slide pool, a pizza parlor, a game room with table tennis and a remarkable kids’ program.

Recommended for Best Hotels because: The biggest resort on Marco Island also happens to be its best in many ways.

Read more about JW Marriott Marco Island Beach Resort →

Read full article here

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awaystory · 2 years

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Chapter 1

The image of an off-white door is burned into my eyes. I still feel the humid outside air that settled on the back of my neck as I stood in a hallway, lit by buzzing lights. I placed my hand on the rusted knob that I told myself I’d replace so many times before, a shiver shoots down my spine. Something was wrong, without hesitation I burst through the door of my apartment. My noisy entrance was almost immediately dulled by the pre existing silence of the room I found myself in. In front of me, the silhouette of a woman. Hung by a belt over a dining room chair, my sweet Cherry…before I knew it, my knees hit the hardwood floors, my eyes swelled up in a tearful mess and my arms were pushed against my head in an attempt to comfort myself.

The rumbles of a train shake my body awake, my hands holding a journal and a pen. Back to reality. Cherry had died about a year ago, and yet the vivid memories of discovering her body haven’t left me to grieve. I tilt my head and look out the window near me, my eyes wander the bare hills as they pass by. My aunt had checked up on me last week, she found me in a distant and dissociative state. Because of this she practically forced me out of my apartment and into another, closer to the sea. She said it would do me some good, and who am I to argue?

“Attention all passengers, we will be arriving at Santa Taro station shortly.” The announcement breaks my train of thought.

I grab my bag from underneath my legs and quickly shove my journal into the front pocket. I didn’t know much about the town of Santa Taro. I knew that it practically lived in the ocean and that my aunt had spent her early years as a student here. When she told me about it, it sounded like a different world entirely. Then again- I don’t trust the memories of my aunt, especially in her younger years.

The train softly stops and my ears perk up at the anticipation of an announcement. “We have arrived at Santa Taro station.” I get up and take a large suitcase from above, carefully putting it down and rolling it out onto the platform. I stand and watch as the train departs, before turning around and being greeted by a small dark woman. She had a patch covering her right eye, dull blue hair and a green military jacket over a sundress.

“Marco?”

I nod.

“Hello, I’m a friend of your aunts and your landlord. People around here call me Oracle.” I stare for a bit, puzzled, she seems to be a bit young to be a landlord-

“I’m 29..” she blurts out, as if she was reading my thoughts.

“Um… right.” I awkwardly respond.

“Ahem, well follow me and I will take you to the complex.” she gestures for me to follow.

“Don’t we need a car?” I ask.

“Don't worry, it’s closer than you’d think.” she pauses “This entire town has everything within walkable distance.”

We spent the rest of the walk in silence, I took this time to give the town a good look. There was one convenience store with a flower shop built into the side of it. Down a bit further, a small clinic that didn’t seem the most reliable, an old-school pub and some inn hosted by a big hotel chain. The apartment complex I was staying in was adjacent to the ocean and sat next to a small house. The town was small, mostly consumed by the ocean. No shops, or boardwalk- just the sea and its blinding qualities.

We stop and head into my complex, climbing up 2 sets of stairs and down a hallway until the woman in front of me stops at a door. Oracle pulls a silver key from her pocket and offers it up to me. I took it, thanking her.

“Here we are, apartment 3B. I’ll leave you to get settled then.”

I push the key into the lock and rest my hand on the door knob, something about this seems familiar- the more I think about it the more my head throbs. I take a deep breath and focus on the sounds of the lock inside the door clicking and the footsteps of my landlord walking away.

Turning the knob, I exhale and enter my new apartment. It’s a small apartment, pre-furnished with things my aunt had sent me. The walls were painted a cozy shade of white and the living room was bathed in sunlight. The light came from the clear sliding doors that faced the ocean. To the left of me, an open kitchen with the basic necessities and to the right a door leading to the bedroom. I put my stuff down and sat in silence for a bit, taking in my new surroundings.

Being here reminds me of things, beautiful things, fleeting things. I think of the time Cherry and I moved in together. Before, we had lived in a similarly small apartment, out in the city. We moved in at a young age, since we had been together throughout high school. It felt right at the time, everything felt right. I remember unpacking boxes, wrestling duct tape, spending late nights sorting things out.

I snap back into reality after realizing that I had been standing at the door of my apartment a bit too long. The breeze here was different, It was lighter. This feeling of sudden weightlessness reminded me of the differences between now and then and at the same time welcomed me into a new part of my life.

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angelkarafilli · 3 years

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Crystal River Inn guesthouse/bed and breakfast,San Marcos,Texas,USA

#Crystal River Inn #guesthouse #bed and breakfast #hotel #San Marcos #Texas #vintage #old #decoration #atmosphere

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cyborg-franky · 2 years

Note

Hi hi!! If I can may request from your Jan prompt with Marco an angst of prompt 10 “you forgot about me” or if that’s taken may I request prompt 9 “you weren’t there when I needed you”

Thank you :D and stay safe! Have a good rest of your day :)

Thank you! I hope your day is going well too sweetheart!

Marco x GN Reader SFW ANGST Word Count: 560

Wano had been a nightmare and Marco was just glad that chapter of his life was over, he’d done what he’d set out to do, he felt a weight lifted off his chest. He’d completed what Ace had wanted, he helped to save the country, it managed to lessen the guilt he had in his heart.

He was walking around a small town, even in phoenix form there was a limit to how far how far he could fly without growing tired. Maybe he could stay the night? Get something to eat, get a goodnight sleep? The zoan hummed to himself and looked around the towns market, seeing various places open for dinner.

Marco had managed to sate his hunger and headed to the small inn he’d been told about just on the outskirts of town. He entered the building, a bell ringing as he did so, alerting your attention, you’d not expected a new patron this time of day.

You looked up with your ‘I’m dealing with a customer face’ and that’s when you dropped everything, the shock that ran through you when you saw the blond, your old commander, your heart sped up, he’d not even noticed you behind the counter yet.

That’s when you launched yourself over said counter and caught the man off guard, hitting him right in the gut, you weren’t very strong less so after years of retirement, but it was enough to catch him off guard. Marco looked down confused when someone get hitting him over and over.

His expression softened when he recognised the tear-soaked face that was yours, you sobbed and yelled curses at him. He took your hands in his, getting you to stop, he called your name a few times until you looked at him.

The angry expression still there as you huffed and tried to pull yourself from the blond’s grip, tugging your hardest but it didn’t seem any effort for him to hold you. You were trapped between wanting to cry because you’d missed him and wanting to knock that lop sided grin off his stupid face.

“Long time no see yoi”

“Don’t you dare act so casual as you waltz back into my life after so many years!” You grit your teeth, still pulling, this time trying to stomp on his feet, getting his toes.

Marco sighed and allowed himself to fall back into one of the chairs that occupied the foyer and pulled you with him, his arms around your waist, his long legs pinning yours, his arms getting yours crossed as he cooed into your ear “Shhh calm down, shhh you need to take deep breaths, count to ten yoi”

You struggled but the fight, the anger, the pain started to slowly eb away knowing you couldn’t get out of his arms. Sobbing louder now, you slumped against him, your heart hated you for feeling so safe in his arms once more.

“You weren’t there when I needed you” your voice came out so softly, but the phoenix heard.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, face yours as he took a breath, letting out a sigh, hugging you closer to his body now, his hands finding your balled up fists, you let him ease your tension out, unfurling your fists into hands he could hold.

“I know, I’m sorry” Marco sighed against you.

TAG LIST:

@undercoverweeeb @kaizokuwritings @slut4animedilfs @sanjithesimp @sugxrslushy @acesmarigold @fire-fist-ann @dxvilmanlev @aifozu @useless-potatho @saisei-no-hano @strawhat-bast @rae-vynn

#marco the phoenix x reader #marco the phoenix #one piece x you #one piece reader insert #one piece x reader #sfw #gender neutral reader #angst piece #marco x you #marco x reader #marco x yn

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leonhardt-simp · 3 years

Text

The Girl Who Wrote Me Letters. II

[post-canonverse/canonverse]

Annie x mute! fem! reader

CW/ major s1-s4 spoilers! violence!

intrusive thoughts! angst! blood!

insecurity! Slight plot changes! Injuries !

Summary: After the war, Annie goes on another search for a missing girl who was born without a voice. All she has are memories and a journal. Will she find her safe and sound?

Part I Part III

Pages upon pages, letters that formed sentences that brought Annie so much clarity. Every sentence and phrasing just gave Annie a deep hurt in her chest, she was the cause of the sudden shift in tone from page to page. The reason why the nurse began to question her self-worth and well-being. The shift that caused her to disappear… Annie was a direct cause…

She wanted to be accountable… Annie got off easy. She got everything she wanted… Why wasn’t she happy then? Especially after the expedition…

“Y/N! LOOK OUT!”

Annie’s eyes flinched at the sudden memory, her face leaning forward to rest into the book, covering her face in shame. The chair she sat on, creaked slightly. She was alone now in the Inn room. Alone... Just like Y/N was.

Annie had hurt her in such a way that made her feel nothing but angry with herself… Yet still... When she came to visit her that night, she still looked at her as if she was gonna hold her in a protective embrace…

Why?… What even will happen if she was alive? probably moved on? Maybe, she did die… She just wanted to… Annie just wanted to see her one more time even if it was her last.

Annie’s nimble fingertips slipped through each page, skimming over small events. She could see the small things webbed between pages, like old candy wrappers, small flowers she had decided to press. Annie couldn’t stop the little smile that etched onto her face. What caught Annie off guard was a page, folded and creased as if it was crumpled up before it was unraveled and folded back neatly.

With much curiosity, she slipped the letter out and rested the journal down, opening the letter to reveal her handwriting.

My Dear, Y/N

Since I am not that great at expressing myself… I think it would be best if I wrote my feelings down and let you decide how to go about this…

I have grown a fond attraction to you... We just finished training but.. Training was probably the best time I have had in my whole life. I would like to know if you feel that way as well?… The sly comments... The touching... Or am I just being delusional? Please come find me if you meant anything by them…

TRAITOR.

That 7 letter word was plastered on the bottom with watermarks that seemed to bleed into the paper.

Annie’s heart broke… She was a traitor… Marco… The expedition… Stohess… Whenever Annie fell asleep she just remembered her face. How the tears fell from her shocked face, eyes wide and mouth always gaped open… Speechless with no voice...

“SOMEONE GET THE HORSE OFF OF HER! QUICK !”

“IT’S HER LEG! WE HAVE TO RETREAT! JUST BREATHE, Y/N! WE’RE GETTING YOU OUT OF HERE.”

Why even bother at this point?.. Annie was surely a dummy if she thought she would be welcomed back into her open arms if she turned out to be alive...

Her vision blurred before a small drop of water fell onto that 7 letter word. Annie sniffled and leaned her head back, her eyes closed tightly. Now wasn’t the time to get emotional...

Once she regained control of her tears, she continued her venture through the journal. A mistake on her side.

‘She didn’t care about me’

‘Why did she leave me?’

‘She didn’t even say goodbye.’

‘Did I mean nothing to her?’

Annie felt nauseous. If only she could go back… no… She couldn’t even do that… She was stuck...

Annie sat up at the desk, flipping through more, her eyebrows furrowed down as she continued through the pages of entries. Some pages seemed to be ripped out, more candy wrappers. Without much patience, she skipped everything, going straight to the last page that was written.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me. I can’t do this. I failed you.

- Y/N.

Annie’s hands closed the book suddenly, She couldn’t have just let herself go off to die on a service mission. No. Absolutely not. Annie refused to believe that. someone should have seen Y/N, she couldn’t have ventured far from their group.. no way. especially not during that time, there was just… no.

Annie sighed, “What did you do, Y/N?”

———————————————————————

Annie came into the medical office, frantically looking at people and the nurses that helped patients get to rooms. She rushed on over to a medical nurse, grabbing them by their arms.

“Do you know where nurse L/N is?” She asked in desperation, her body was already shaking, Annie was never seen panicked before.

“Nurse L/N was admitted into 4-16. Please be cautious, she is very overwhelmed.” The nurse had expressed, his eyes seemed dull. Annie suddenly recalled seeing him beside Y/N in the formation before she ran through them unexpectedly…

The nurse pulled away to attend to more patients, making sure to attend to those who have died, and those who were delirious.

Annie didn’t waste time rushing to the room number.

building 4, patient 16…

Great wall of sina, the sight broke her heart…

there she laid, her head thrown back in pain as medical desperately tried to calm her, gripping the sheets and thrashing over touches that came in contact with her right leg. She was still in clothes from the expedition… a white gloves still on, a white bandana tied around her neck..

“Y/N. I’m here.” Y/N’s lips only sputtered out small voiceless gurgles of pain, her eyes in full tears that flowed down her face as she tried to hold onto the hand that was offered to her. Annie instinctually pulled the H/C girl closed to her chest, cradling her up to gently wrap an arm around her. “Shh, It’s okay… it’s okay… Just breathe..” Annie didn’t realize she had tears falling from her own eyes, her eyes wide in fear. She did this. She did this. She did this…

…

“I don’t think her leg will heal properly the same, Miss Leonhardt. She was not only crushed under the weight of her horse but she was bucked off her horse and landed badly as well..” The doctor said.

The room had finally calm, Y/N was resting due to the medication they had given her. Her body peaceful but her leg was wrapped up for healing, keeping it resting on pillows.

Annie stayed seated beside the bed, her hand holding onto the unconscious girl’s. “Do you think it will at least be to where to she can walk on her own?” Annie asked, her eyes dulling as she found herself lost in thought.

“Possibly… She might develop a little limp… If you can convince her to stay in bed for her full recovery then maybe she might recover better... She’s always so eager to help out.” The doctor let out a little laugh, holding their clipboard close to them. “I am needed elsewhere... If she needs anything, let us know... Also, when she wakes, let her know that everyone wishes her a speedy recovery.” The doctor bowed their head before taking their leave from the room.

Annie stayed there, resting her head against Y/N’s hand, kissing the palm with a firm kiss. She was so sorry. Annie’s eyes teared up again, however, she was caught off guard when the hand motionlessly resting against her cheek had suddenly moved its thumb to caress the skin underneath.

“Y/N…?” Her eyes darted up to see the worn-down girl, softly looking over at the blonde. A tired expression, her face still a little sweaty yet her breathing was much calmer than before. Her eyes were half-lidded and tired.

“You should be resting a bit more…Doctor’s orders,” Annie spoke softly, scooting her seat a bit closer to the bed.

Y/N’s eyes didn’t leave Annie, staring at her with so much uneasiness, discomfort, yet she still leaned her head over to her. Annie knew she was afraid… She wanted comfort…

“I’m so sorry..” Annie let that apology slip, her hand resting on the nape of her neck, gently rubbing the baby hairs there. Annie’s throat hurt, she wanted nothing but to confess to everything here and now, run away together? But, her love couldn’t run, not anymore…

Annie’s mouth opened to spill her secrets however she felt as if something started closing around her throat, covering her mouth. She was stuck… Here she had someone she loved so dearly but… Back at home, she had her father who was eagerly waiting for her return… Annie shouldn’t have gotten selfish…

That night, Annie did her best to just comfort the hurting girl, staying close until the morning where she had to leave to do her duties and continue with her mission.

‘Annie was right… She didn’t want me to get hurt and begged me not to go, but I did. Why? To sedate my curiosity? How delusional. I am now nothing but a useless mess resting in medical until I am allowed to leave… That monster still haunts my dreams even after the event occurred, my leg still hurts even with the crutches… Everyone died, countless bodies piled up, and I wasn’t there to help. I should’ve been more careful. I should have been more useful.’ - journal entry.

———————————————————————

Annie woke up to knocking on her door, her eyes groggily opening and wincing at the sudden shine of light that hit her eyes from the window in front. “ah, fuck- ow-“ She sat up in her chair, her hands rubbing her eyes.

She fell asleep at her desk, she didn’t even realize… haha, she was a mess.

knock knock

The blonde’s head turned to the door of her small Inn room, slowly lifting herself from the chair and walking over, almost tripping over her feet. When she opened it, her eyes were met with Reiner and Pieck.

“Ah, you weren't with us for breakfast... We wanted to see if everything was alright.” Reiner said, his eyes looked in concern. “Are you okay?” Pieck asked, her eyes softening at the appearance of the young blonde.

Annie sighed, leaving the door to go back into her room and clean up a bit. “I’m fine.”

Reiner and Pieck looked at one another before Reiner motioned his head towards Annie.

“well?… go talk to her.“ he suggested to Pieck in a whisper. Pieck’s eyebrow rose, “what?-“ she replied.

“I’m not good at talking about problems-“ Reiner sighed, slicking back his hair with his hand.

The obsidian-haired girl rolled her eyes as she entered the room, “Do you want to talk about it then? You seemed to have your mind full since we’ve been in Paradis-“

Annie just blew off the question, tidying up her room. Pieck noticed instantly, Reiner however didn’t.

He walked in shrugging his shoulders, “well- you heard she seems fine-“

“Zip it, go do something like think about Historia or something.” Pieck interrupted the big man, making him shut up and blush a little. “I- yes, ma’am-“ He stayed quiet, closing the door as he entered the room.

“Annie,” Pieck called to her blonde friend who was just freshening up for the day. Annie still ignored her and that’s made Pieck stand up.

“Annie!” Pieck raised her voice causing Annie to jump and turn her attention back to the older girl. “What is wrong?” Pieck questioned.

“Nothing is wrong, I am fine-“

“It’s obvious, you aren’t! We’ve been here for a good while and you’ve done nothing but dissociate at meetings and keep yourself locked up in this room !” Pieck argued, earning a scoff from Annie as she just wanted to be left alone. She was wasting too much time now, Annie needed action.

“I am fine, Pieck! I don’t need you to baby me!”

Reiner walked around the room as the two girls argued back and forth, his eyes traveled around the poorly paid room, his eyes judging the decor before landing onto the desk with the journal and displayed open.

He lifted the journal his eyes widening a bit at the sudden surprise. “Is this… Y/N’s journal, Annie?” Reiner asked and suddenly the book was snatched out of his hands.

“STOP GOING AROUND TOUCHING STUFF- I AM FINE, EVERYTHING IS FINE, OKAY?” The sudden outburst caught the former warriors off guard. Pieck’s expression softened a bit, looking over to Reiner with a questioning look. “Who is Y/N?…” She questioned genuinely.

Reiner’s eyes softened at the realization, he was speechless… He remembered how hard Annie took it when he heard that she came back and was told that her former love had gone missing and presumed dead… She just existed through that fight.

“Ah… I see then..” He had put together the dots, the splayed pages on the desk, the journal, the sudden outburst… He was that way when Bert had passed.

“Annie… I understand…I do…” Reiner sympathized, sighing softly.

Annie had her body turned away from the two, her eyes forming tears that threatened to fall however she refused.

“I just…” Annie trailed off, her voice cracking a bit due to how shaken she was feeling. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable… She felt gentle hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently before a warm tone spoke to her.

“Tell us… We might be able to help?” Pieck had advised, her head leaning in to gently nudge against the younger girl.

Annie’s shoulders slowly relaxed, her head falling forward. “She was…is…someone I care deeply about…” She explained, turning to face the two in the room.

“Annie… It’s been 7 years…” Reiner pointed out which caused Annie to sigh and shake her head, almost like in denial.

“I know that! That’s why I need to find her. She could still be alive somewhere… I plan on searching for her.” Annie rebutted, she was stubborn.

“What if she doesn’t want to be found though, Annie? Especially, after everything? or what if she’s dead?” Reiner argued.

“You don’t know that!” Annie grew in defense, stepping up to Reiner, her hands clenched, giving the journal more creases.

“You don’t either.” it was Reiner’s turn to step up, his chest puffed out to declare his confidence.

“Shut up, both of you.” Pieck butted in, pushing the two away from each other with both of her hands, wishing to not see the two fight.

“THE THREE of us are ambassadors, act like one! Reiner stop being an ass and Annie stop being so stubborn! It’s naive to think everything and everyone will be okay after what happened.” She reasoned, her hands dropping to her sides. Pieck was always so calm and collected compared to the other warriors, so this was a whole different light they were seeing her.

Pieck sighed, turning her head to Annie. “If you want to find someone you have to get out of this ugly room. Sitting in here and being stuck in memory won’t get you anywhere. especially since people are always moving.”

Annie felt a little tensed up after that, “I… I don’t know where to start… I thought if I just read through her journal maybe she would have left something…” Annie’s lips formed a tight line, her eyebrows furrowing down as she seemed to feel uncomfortable. Annie didn’t want help- but here she was probably looking pathetic while she sulked over a missing lover.

Annie suddenly felt a warmth touch her hands, her eyes looking up to see Pieck with a warm expression. “I understand… However…” She slipped the journal from the girl’s hands, trying to bend it back into shape. “You ruining your only lead to her is not the way to go. You have to treat this like a case. You getting overly emotional and pushing people away isn’t going to help you.”

Pieck was right, the more she dwelled on her emotions, the more she grew insecure and more sure that it would be best to just not look for her. The more she read, page by page, the more she was just reminded of how awful her actions were and how they genuinely affected those close to her. She could understand Hitch’s anxiety now. Annie wasn’t the only person who lost people she cared about.

“Annie.” Reiner rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground as he thought over his words carefully. “What is your plan if you do see her again?”

Reiner didn’t wish to see someone he grew up with get hurt, or get their hopes up. He also felt responsible. He often pushed Annie to do things that he couldn’t. He was sorry for that.

Annie’s lips opened to speak but then closed tightly, her head looking down at her hands. She could remember the blood and bodies that desperately tried to get out of her grasp. “I don’t know… I just… I want to see her again… Apologize… I just want to make sure she’s okay even if I am not allowed at her side anymore.” Annie revealed, looking up at the two with blurry vision, her expression looked of one in pain.

“what if she truly is dead?”

“Then I want to return the book to its owner…” Annie answered truthfully, she had no right to keep something important like that.

The room filled with silence, Reiner looked over at Pieck and Pieck nodded her head, pointing at the blonde. “I’ll help you get your start. After that, you need to hurry up and find her. Reiner and I can make up excuses for your absence at meetings.” Pieck walked on towards that desk that was filled with the folded letters and paper scattered.

“Once this search begins to form problems, however, you need to step down and continue your duties as ambassador... Armin wouldn’t want us to fuck up the alliances. His words can persuade but actions will always speak louder.” She finished, lifting a letter to see Annie’s little confession note, her eyes noticing the giant bolded 7 letter words. She felt for Annie, she did. Pieck couldn’t imagine the feelings that bottled up in her during that time, maybe she was still feeling that now.

Annie’s eyes widened a little, her eyes showing her vulnerability so clearly. “Really?-“ Her voice was filled with uncertainty.

“Will you really help me?-“

“Of course, I can see on your face that this matters a lot to you. Plus, who am I to deny that I am also curious as to how this mystery woman stole my little Annie’s heart?” Pieck playfully said as she folded that sorrowful note, placing it back on the desk.

Reiner let out a little breathy laugh. “You should’ve seen them, she was always holding onto Annie. Annie made it her mission to always carry an extra pencil on her just in case Y/N forgot hers… Annie was so flustered once, she came to me and asked me to tell her what it meant to be cute to someone.” Reiner smiled at the memory, it was a scary time though. Especially given the circumstances…

“Pencil? did she write a lot?” Pieck asked, she looked over at Annie.

“She can’t speak… Uh… She often wrote to me. That’s how she communicated with everyone, she is quite the writer..” Annie smiled slightly as she remembered the little notes they often passed to one another.

‘I swear every time the commander walks out into the sun, the gleam from his head always blinds me. Tell me I am not the only one.’

She recalled that note in particular, she remembered how she had a genuine laugh for the first time because of it.

Pieck and Reiner both shared glances as they saw Annie cover her mouth with her hand to suppress her laughter. “Sorry- I just remembered something-“ Annie apologized, waving off the two.

“It’s fine, take your time.” Reiner waved the fellow ambassador off, moving to take a seat in the chair at the desk.

“Well, now my curiosity has grown. She seems like a gem,” Pieck turned her attention to the journal, opening the journal to see more writing of adventures and small one-sided conversations. Pieck could understand the charm behind her wording. Would be a shame if their efforts turned to be fruitless.

“That’s one way to put it, she was very work heavy though, due to her inability to speak she was settled in Medical, she was quite impressive with her work as well.” Reiner huffed, shaking his head.

“Mmhm, lively as well. I remember Bert always reminding me to stay away, he was right. I forgot how my actions affected everything around me.. including her.” Annie spoke, trailing off towards the end.

A sudden realization made Reiner sit up in his chair, scooting forward towards Annie. “Wait. Annie, why don’t you go underground?” He started, “You may find more leads, someone down there has to have some information.”

“There is an underground? Like with buildings and stuff?” Pieck was surprised, something like that seemed very unusual. A whole city under a kingdom? What?

“Yes, it’s just an underground city. Mostly filled with bandits but information is always being distributed throughout that place. Someone down there has to have seen something or know something about Y/N.” Reiner expanded on that idea.

“You’re right but, I don’t think they will take kindly to me of all people being down there. It would raise flags to see an Ambassador down there.” Annie sighed, running a hand through her hair while the other rested on her hip.

“You’re right,” Reiner paused to think a bit before continuing his idea. “Wear a hood, or a disguise and keep your head down. You won’t need a disguise too drastic like last time. Just enough to make you look like you fit in.”

“What? Really? How bad was it?” Pieck asked, her eyebrows rising in curiosity.

“Pigtails and glasses. I got caught but managed to escape in time.” Annie shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose in. That time was so embarrassing, that was something she refused to do again.

“What?! I missed seeing An in glasses and pigtails?! Unfortunate, truly unfortunate.” Pieck handed over the journal to Annie, whining dramatically. Annie took the journal, moving over to the desk to start putting everything back in its place.

“Can we not bring that up again, please...It was worse enough I got caught.”

“Yeah, you really are bad-“

“I don’t want to hear that coming from you, Letter-Sniffer.” Annie shot back at Reiner before moving over to pick up her satchel that hung on one of the small hooks on the bathroom door.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t bring that up again?” Reiner scratched his neck nervously, turning away with a small blush on his face. Annie gave a little smirk at his reaction, pushing the journal into the satchel along with a pencil.

“You plan on heading out now, Annie?” Pieck questioned, watching the girl getting ready, pushing herself away from the desk.

“No, I want everything ready before I leave later on. As you said, I have to get back as soon as I find her. I don’t wanna be the reason for everything going to shit... Armin worked too hard for me to ruin that.” Annie turned her back to start focusing on getting herself back into that mindset of being on the defensive. Those 3 years of not fighting probably made her rusty, She knew that was gonna be detrimental.

“We’ll tell them that you are sick and don’t wish to spread it to the Queen.” Reiner stood up from the chair, dusting off his buttoned-up shirt and pants. “Shall we be on our way, Pieck?” Reiner asked.

Pieck gave a graceful nod towards the big man, the two beginning their move to the door. Pieck stopped one step out the door and turned back to Annie who was rummaging through her luggage.

“Annie.” Annie’s eyes shot up to the obsidian-haired girl, her eyes questioning.

“I wish you luck in your journey. Come back content and safe, alright?” She shot the blonde a quick wink, closing the door behind her.

Annie wasn’t on a mission anymore, She didn’t have to hold back on how she felt anymore. She could finally be honest, that stupid feeling of suffocation and that hand that used to cover her mouth whenever she wanted to be honest, was no longer there to stop her. There was no time to waste now, now was time for action.

———————————————————————

It was cold, the winter had grown harsh during their 2nd year of cadet training. It didn’t help that they lost someone too, a fool in her opinion. Annie kept herself close to the crackling fire, her eyes closing to try and move her mind off of something that wasn’t the cold.

Suddenly, she felt a warm bag press against her face, her eyes opening on instinct to see the source and there she was.

“What is this?” Annie question, taking the warm water pouch into her hands, about to open it up and drink it before the [h/c] haired girl stopped her.

Annie’s eyes curiously watched as Y/N wrote in her book, turning it to her to read.

‘Just hold it to keep your hands warm, I learned it from someone in my village. They say that it’s both good for blood circulation and to clean your water pouch.’

Annie let herself give a small amused look, watching the girl had given her a little smile back. “Is that so?”

The mute girl had nodded, reaching to cup Annie’s hands and bring the water pouch up to press against her face. Annie could feel the warmth emitting from it, making her feel quite better in the harsh weather.

‘See? Does that feel better?’ a written response that made Annie feel weird. She let out a cold breathe, it being visible in the air in front of her.

“Yes, thank you. What about you though?” Annie asked, tilting her head slightly as she felt those comfortable hands leave hers.

‘I’m cozy just being able to stop your shaking. You looked funny shaking so much.’

The girl teased, letting out a breathy laugh, shaking her head as she settled beside Annie on the log, her eyes turning to tend to the fire in front of them. Her lips kept that smile that Annie unconsciously always eyed. It was a sight to see.

Annie reached her arm wanting to wrap it around the girl sitting beside her, however, she felt her movement stop on its own. She couldn’t get too comfortable. She shouldn’t. Annie let her arm fall to her lap to hold onto that warm water pouch, looking down at it in reflection.

That’s when she felt a weight fall onto her shoulder, her face began to heat up just a little. Her eyes looked down as Y/N began to write on her page, her hooded head resting on her shoulder comfortably.

‘You seem lost in thought, what’s on your mind?’

Annie wanted nothing but for the time to stop just for this moment. Just the two of them. She couldn’t express herself clearly, that was frustrating. “I’m fine, I just… I worry a lot..”

‘Because of Daz?’

Annie let out a little breath, amusement filling her tone. “Absolutely not, just the future..”

‘Does graduation scare you?’

“not really..”

There was a brief pause between the two.

“Y/N… What is it that you want to do?”

Y/N lifted her head off of the blonde’s shoulder in surprise, their faces just inches apart but they looked at one another. Y/N took a minute to really think about it, leaning away a bit as she did. Annie watched her, taking in every little feature, every move of her wrist.

‘I wanna help people. People like me, people who don’t have a voice of their own, or people who just need to be helped up. Find me in a place never expected, I’ll surely surprise you one day with my big ol’ achievements and stuff. Trust. I already have plans.’

That childish smile that she received after such a response was just what filled her heart, the smile that caused her to hesitate so much. Annie couldn’t wait to see these achievements.

Wait…

———————————————————————

The underground city… The streets seemed so much more bustling than ever, people fighting, leaning up against buildings. Annie believed that after the war the underground had more to work with. However, it seemed more in the dirt than before. She wondered what had changed.

Annie had her set target already, she was gonna go around and sit in bars to see if anyone would say anything she found note-worthy. People at bars always babble on about things they did, what they saw, bragging, sometimes you will even catch them in a lie. She hoped to find that. Or at least hoped to find an important name. Annie made sure to borrow a shirt from Reiner, luckily the shirt he had given her made her look like she fit in quite well. The black hooded cape with a light blue button-up seemed to fit well in the look of being a rebel, not to mention the final touches of patched-up jeans and boots just added to her look.

Of course, she got a couple of looks when she walked into the bar, but it was mostly looks that sized her up incase she decided to become a problem. It wasn’t anything more than that. She made sure to adjust her hood over her eyes to keep her face hidden as she moved towards one of the corner tables, she wanted to make sure she had a perfect view of the place but not too far away to where she didn’t hear anything valuable.

The place was fairly popular from what it seemed, people either blacked-out drunk in a corner, some celebrating at their tables. Some even decided to burst out into little jigs. This place didn’t seem too scary to be in but surely someone had something interesting to say.

Annie took her seat and waited, soon she saw a brunette waitress come up to the table. “Hey sweetie, is there anything I can do for you?” Annie felt a hand gently brush onto her shoulder, her eyebrows furrowed downwards as she shook her shoulder to slip the hand off of her.

“A limeade, please.” Annie answered dryly, she wasn’t here to spend the night with a waitress. The waitress gave a playful little frown before pulling out a little notepad and writing the drink down.

“Awww, a little feisty. If you need someone to help you with that, don’t be afraid to call on me, cutie.” She placed a small bill onto her table for the price of the drink and Annie simply places the correct amount onto the paper and gave it back.

“I’m not interested. Thank you.” Annie didn’t spare her feelings.

The waitress just scoffed, taking the money and going off to get her the drink. Once the limeade had arrived, the waitress left her alone not wanting to waste her time.

Just like she planned, she had begun to put her hearing into focus at the table closest to her right. A table full of nothing but idiots who seemed pretty happy about something.

“Dr. Quil helped me out with my bent out leg. I’d recommend seeing her if you need a check-up.” a man at a table spoke, slamming his drink down.

“What? Really? That rusty thing on ya leg?” the other man said, looking down at his pal’s leg to see a metallic contraption that framed his leg up to connect to his waist, the contraption also seemed to connect to his boots.

“She calls it a caliper, A brilliant woman, she is.”

‘Not interested’ Annie thought as she turned her hearing to another table.

“Yeah so me and this girl both decided to meet up.”

‘That’s not it- no.’ Annie sighed, her eyes turning to see another table. This table seemed to have a couple of thugs huddled close together as they smoked cigars and talked amongst themselves. She wasn’t sure how to put it but it seemed like they didn’t have a cheery attitude like the other customers in the bar. Soon enough, another party arrived.

“Ah, Miss Fabel, You finally made it! We were just talking about you.” One of the scarier-looking men said, flicking his cigar a bit to take off any extra ash that built up.

“Is that so? Hopefully, you all were talking about the missing shipment as well? You know, the one that would arrive today?” The masculine female spoke, taking a seat in one of the chairs to join the rest of the boys. Annie made sure to pull out her journal and her pencil, getting ready for anything important.

The sudden among the three men spoke loudly for their defense. “There was a shipment missing?” The one with suspenders holding up his pants tried to play dumb however it was obvious in his tone.

“Don’t play stupid with me.” The woman warned as she reached into the middle of the table to grab one of those candies that were covered in a thin aluminum wrapper.

“But we counted for everything when it all arrived, that’s impossible!” The man with the cigar slammed on the table.

“Tell me this then,” The woman spoke. That’s when Annie’s eyes turned to look at what the black-haired woman was doing.

“A shipment, full of medical supplies for the people in need down here is suddenly missing, yes?” Slowly and with patience, she unravels the delicate aluminum paper from the candy as she explained the entire situation out loud for those at the table. “The crate that had arrived is filled with a Coderion however, this shipment is defective. The same stuff that is killing the people down here. The same stuff we needed the medical supplies for.”

Annie’s eyes widened at the girl’s actions, watching her slowly unravel the already creased wrapping before flattening it to show the wrapping’s complete logo and a perfect squared wrap.

Annie often remembered watching her unravel the candies this way, no one else seemed to do it. Her curiosity often got the better of her whenever Y/N did it so she did it with her whenever they went into town on their off days.

This specific wrapper only, Y/N never did it with any other candy wrapper, that’s just what made it so shocking to her.

———————————————————————

‘I finally did it!’

Annie gave a little smile, watching Y/N get so excited over the squared piece of trash but she didn’t mind, seeing her get happy as she placed it inside of her journal like some kind of memorabilia was just cute to her.

“I’m happy for you but what is the reason for that?” Annie questioned.

‘To prove patience and being delicate can make beautiful results. Besides, it’s just a habit I picked up from one of the elders from my village. It was like to teach us a lesson.’

———————————————————————

“And the medical supplies that we're missing is suddenly found completely destroyed and unretrievable.” She lifted up the perfectly restored wrapper between her middle and index finger to showcase it to the table.

“You three were the only ones on duty to make sure it got here safely... Therefore…” The black-haired woman placed the wrapper down on the table and pushed it to them. “You three are responsible.” Her elbows rested on the table, clasping her hands together as she waited for their response.

“So?” The woman’s hazel eyes squinted with her smile, a smile that deceived anyone who wasn’t at the end of that conversation. “Am I wrong?” She dared them.

The three men couldn’t speak, anything they said, they knew it would simply go through one of the woman’s ears and out the other. Besides, they had no defense. They were guilty. Everyone who listened in on that conversation knew that.

The woman nodded, standing up from her table. “I see then… I hope you boys have a lovely evening.” She let out a little laugh, shaking her head as she turned to leave the bar. The men seemed very scared at her attitude, their eyes suddenly widened when they realized their predicament.

However, Annie immediately stood up, after ‘Miss Fabel’ had completely left the bar. Annie could feel her heart beating hard in her chest at the questions that formed in her head.

‘Was this just a coincidence?’

‘How did they know how to unravel it perfectly?’

‘Do they have information?’

‘They are obviously very important down here so they know something, right?’

Annie followed the woman, her head lowered down to hide her face as they both went down an alleyway. Of course, Annie didn’t make immediate movements with this ‘Fabel’ character. She leaned against one of the brick walls, her eyes watching as ‘Fabel’ walked down into an empty alleyway.

With much eagerness, Annie walked down the alleyway behind soon enough the woman turned suddenly pulling a gun from her cropped black jacket, pointing it straight at Annie’s face. With a sudden adrenaline rush, Annie immediately went into her defense, hitting her wrist to loosen her grip on the gun, slipping it out of Fabel’s hand and into her own. Annie pointed the gun against Fabel’s jugular, “Don’t move.” She threatened.

Suddenly she heard running footsteps above her, guns cocking. Fabel stood there with her hands not even raised at a surrender, not afraid, just standing there confidently.

Many men and women in black masks and hoods all stood on the rooftops of buildings above them with rifles pointed towards Annie, a few men and women also blocked the alleyway exit, locking Annie in a pinned spot. She may have a gun, but she didn’t have the advantage.

“I do wonder…” The woman took a step back, her lips forming a mischievous smirk across her lips.

“What is an ambassador doing here of all places?”

Taglist: @the-camilucha

#TGWWML #annie leonhardt x reader #annie x reader #aot x reader #aot scenarios #annie leonhart x reader

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boxofbadaddiction · 3 years

Text

The Missing Piece

Fred Weasley x Reader

George Weasley x Reader(Platonic)

All I Wanna Do Continuation

Warnings: Swearing. Angsty.

A/N: I know this was only meant to be a two part series...but I'm hopeless. So I present to you; Part II of (?)

It had been a couple days since y/n ran into George in Diagon Alley, revealing the hardest of truths to her long time friend. That being of her secret child to one Fred Weasley, conceived only the day before his death. The one whom she kept secret from her whole old life in London, after running from it. Marcos was the Weasley no one knew existed.

It had been more than difficult when George discovered the truth, seeing a young Fred with peircing y/e/c eyes barrell towards the two adults during a casual conversation between old friends. It'd hurt George more than he thought it were possible to hurt, no injuries sting ever coming close to the one he felt that day. However, after a night spent bonding with his newly discovered nephew and multiple nights of y/n explaining everything to him. From the night before the battle; which involved a little too much information in Georges opinion, to the day they accidentally crossed paths, he'd found a way to forgive her.

He'd been so angry in the beginning but now that they'd spoke and he saw her side none of that mattered. He couldn't stay mad. Not really.

It turns out though that y/n and Marcos had been staying in a small Muggle Inn as y/n searched for a place to relocate whilst Marcos reddied to begin his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Something which George refused to stand for, and so that's how for the past 4 days the two had been living happily above the store of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, number 93 Diagon Alley.

George hadn't been happier in so long, to have someone else living within the flat with him. To have someone to come home to. A family no less. Y/n felt the same way. But that didn't mean the dread of letting the rest of the Weasley family in on her dirty little secret were any less prominent in her life. Even George had to admit he was nervous as to how they'd react.

Of course since Marcos had learned of the additional family members, he were yet to meet, he'd been pestering the pair as to when he'd finally get to see them. So, often y/n and George found themselves up late planning the right way to go about it.

They'd decided on a meal at the Burrow with the entire clan present. No exceptions - meaning Dragon Boy himself, as well as the Workaholic. They'd worked out all the kinks through countless Owls flown tirelessly back and forth and it was settled.

Tomorrow at 5pm, the three (two as the family expected) were to arrive via the Floo network, in accordance with the fact Marcos had never travelled by Floo before and was eager to experience it. Though if you asked Mr and Mrs Weasley the reasoning, they'd say the pair simply preferred that way.

At 4:52pm, the day of, Marcos could be found waiting eagerly and very impatient by the fireplace of the Twins flat. "Come ooooon, Mum!" He whined staring to his uncle and mother fussing over whatever he-knows-not, whispering seriously to one another by the kitchen counter. "In a moment, bud." George answered, receiving a huff in response.

George had his hands placed firmly on y/ns arms to steady her as he spoke sternly, eyes fixed directly onto hers. "Everything is going to be okay. I'll be with you the whole time. They're going to love him." "It's not him I'm worried about." Y/n croaked, voice thickly laced with emotion, "I know this is what's right and he'll fit in perfectly, that they'll love him unconditionally. But what of me George, I kept him from all of you. How could they ever look at me again. Let me in that house again. I know it sounds selfish but I'm not worried for him at all. Because it's what's right. But just because it's the right thing to do doesn't mean it makes this whole mess any easier. There wouldn't even be a mess if it weren't for me." Y/ns head dropped, picking at her nails in attempt to distract herself from the burning that set in behind her eyes and in her throat.

"Hey." Lifting a delicate finger to the underside of her chin, George pulled y/n's attention back to him, "You did what you thought was best for you at the time. What you did wasn't easy and I understand it now, just like they will. Once you explain and they meet him...there's no way they can stand against you. Okay? It's going to be okay." The whites of y/n's eyes burned red as she held back the tears which were ready to spill. All it took was a nudge, in the form of a tight comforting George Weasley style hug, to knock them over the edge.

"Can't you hug when we get there?" Marcos groaned, rolling his eyes in frustration this causing his Uncle chuckle. Y/n pulled back and looked to the clock on the wall, 4:59pm. Wiping the few stray tears still running down her cheeks she stepped toward her son. "Sorry sweety." She smiled sadly, fixing his hair. "Why are you crying?" her son asked simply. "It's just...it's just been a very long time since I've seen any of these people. It's got me a tad emotional. Don't worry, we can go now." "ALRIGHT!" The boy yelled excitedly, jumping into the large fireplace. George placed a hand to y/ns back, guiding her in next to Marcos as he grabbed a handful of powder and stood to the boys other side.

"Everyone ready?" George spoke with a wide-eyed, unnerved expression to y/n, "ready!" Marcos bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly while his mother, unknownst to him, offered back a grimace and shrug. "Yeah that seems about right" George spoke more to himself. Looking back out over his living room tight-lipped he grasped the boys shoulder, "The Burrow." He dropped the glittering dust in a swift motion and the three were quickly engulfed in vivid green flame. Here goes nothing.

This dinner would be the first time everyone had been together in years. Since the war if you were to include y/n in the family head count, which Molly did. So as you can imagine she had been fussing over every nanodetail to ensure the whole night went perfectly.

"Molly dear, you must try to relax. You've out done yourself, everything looks splendid and they'll love it." Arthur assured his wife, with a light kiss to her cheek. "I just haven't seen her in so long, not since...well-"

Y/n and Molly had shared such a close bond as she grew up alongside the Twins. The sort of connection Mothers dream of having with their daughters. Y/n came to her about absolutely everything; classes, grades, bullies, boys. There was nothing the two couldn't talk about. So when y/n disappeared after the War, well to Molly it were as if she'd lost another part of her family: the pain she felt neared that of losing another child. That day Molly Weasley very well lost a piece of herself.

It was no wonder her emotions were currently running ragged at the thought of finally seeing her again.

"I have so missed her." "As I'm sure she has you but that is no need to overwork yourself dear, come sit in the lounge." Arthur directed his Wife back from the kitchen to where the rest of their family were gathered.

"Jeez mum, wish you loved us that much." Charlie joked over his mother's flustered form. "It's just y/n" Ron groaned. "The house looks lovely, Molly. But Arthur is right. You must relax." Fluer spoke from her place beside Bill. Though she appreciated the sentiment, their words did little to soothe her excitement and nervousness over tonight. "I know, I'm sorry everyone I'm just so excited to have her back. It's been so long after all." Arthur had his arm placed over her shoulders, stoking her arm contently as she stared to the clock on the wall. 4:52pm.

The group fell into comfortable conversation as they awaited the final two guests, all far more excited to see y/n than they'd care to admit aloud. This would be the first time any of them had seen her in over a decade.

A loud crash and a flash of green from the kitchen alerted the family huddled within the lounge just as the clock struck 5:00pm.

"Oh! They're here!" Molly spoke excitedly. George was the first to step out of the fireplace, ruffling his hair to rid the ash which coated it's ends: appearing like smoke from a flame as it hung from the ginger locks. The family moved quickly from the room, essentially jumping from their seats, to come greet them, however they were suddenly halted.

"Before you all swarm us!" George declared with palms raised towards the group, "there's a little uh-...announcement to be shared first. Or rather an introduction. You see we've brought someone with us." He looked back over his shoulder to y/n who was staring up at him with scared eyes as she trembled slightly in fear of what was to come. She glanced back to her son, hidden by the corner of the large stone wall of the fireplace before looking back up to George as if to say 'it's now or never'. "Just...try to have an open mind." His eyes were pleading for his family to understand even if they hadn't the foggiest what was going on. All their faces contorted as they looked between one another in confused anticipation.

George lowered his hands with a nod satisfied no one was going to tackle them in a crushing embrace or otherwise hectic greeting typical to that of the Wealsey family. Turning to the side so he no longer stood infront of y/n and the wall of the fireplace he encouraged his friend to continue. Y/ns eyes barely left George, aside from a quick nervous flick back over the gathered audience.

Turning back determinedly she reached her arms out for Marcos to hold, helping support him as he stepped down from the slightly elevated floor. There's a kind smile on his face as he moves toward the sitting room where the family is waiting. George places an arm on the back of Marcos nudging him forward slightly, with a nod to y/n, who is staring teary-eyed at him, breath hitching as she starts to panic. "Everyone..." he turns back to his family, "this is y/ns Son, Marcos." "Hello" he says simply with a warm smile.

Everyone looks like they've seen a ghost. Staring silently with mouths agape.

Though covered head to toe in soot his firey red hair sticks out like a Dragon in a flower patch. The Weasley hair. Not just that, it's his face. His entire body. His voice. It's everything but his eyes.

Marcos is quickly becoming uncomfortable as everyone just stares at him, this wasn't what he'd expected. He looks back over his shoulder to his mother. She steps forward and grabs his hand, placing her other on his shoulder, looking to George for strength as she speaks quietly, "I know I have a lot of explaining to do" she swallows hard looking back to the pale faced Weasleys, "but this has been too long coming and it couldn't wait any longer. If George's reaction is anything to go by I know you all have quite a few words to say to me. And I'll hear them all. I deserve it for what I've done."

Marcos looks up to his mother confused, what had she done? For all he knew they hadn't met simply because they lived in different countries. That's no reason why she'd be in trouble is it? He looks back around the room then to George who smiles warmly to him in reassurance. "Sorry isn't enough I know, but I am. Truly. It's time though, Marcos needs you. He needs his family."

No one says anything. Though all silent there's a mixture of strained emotions held within the room. Many teary eyes. Some white knuckles and poorly hidden anger. But mostly it's shock.

Bill's looking around his family, worried, someone needs to say something. They can't just stand there any longer gawping. Dropping Fluers hold he walks forward, heads turn at his sudden movement. He squats infront of Marcos smiling as he shakes his nephews hand with both of his "It's nice to meet you Marcos. I'm Bill," he turns slightly on the spot to point towards his partner, "that's Fluer, my wife." She offers a small smile and wave, then Bill turns back to face him "I'm the eldest of your uncles." He states proudly, "And the coolest" he winks speaking the final line in a whisper. Marcos smiles, whispering back "But Uncle George said that he's the coolest" "yeah don't listen to him, or any of the others - there'll be a lot of that going around." Bill chuckles.

Marcos starts to relax at his uncles attempt in conversation. Y/n and George smile sweetly to one another but with nerves still evident in their expressions. "How did you get your scars?" Marcos asks abruptly. "Marc-" y/n warns, "ah, now THAT is a pretty awesome story" Bill grabs both his hands in his once more, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet etching ever closer to his nephew as he readies to tell the story, "you see there was this fight, at Hogwarts, before the War where I was up against this Werewolf-"

"Alright, alright, Bill, don't hog the boy with your boring old Greyback story." Another redhead interrupted, walking forward from the group to push his brother to the side, Marcs face contorted in confusion, brows furrowing and head falling to the side. Did he just say his story, with a werewolf, was boring!?

"I'm Charlie" the man knelt before the boy smiling widely "and I am by far cooler than these ones don't listen to them." "How are you cooler?" Marc asked "I work with Dragons." He widened his eyes in mock surprise before smiling again. "REALLY!? DRAGONS!?" Marc lit up like a Christmas tree. Charlie turned his head over his shoulder with a smug shit-eating grin on his face as he taunted his siblings for the reaction he'd elicited from such a simple statement. "Yep. Dragons." "Do you have one!? Can I see it!? Are they really as dangerous as everyone says?" Marc was firing questions at him quicker than his breath could carry, his enthusiasm endearing and contagious as the rest of the family made their way to make their introductions.

"Move it Charlie" stated a firey haired young girl "Merlins bollock!" "Marcos, Language!" Y/n warned but her son paid no mind to the woman too engrossed in the individual before him. "I know you! You play for the Hollyhead Harpies!" It was Ginnys turn to grin smugly to her brothers as they were pushed to the side. "It's lovely to meet you Marcos." She hugged him warmly. George and y/n stepped back a couple paces to allow the family more room for introductions.

Y/n was quietly crying as George had his arm placed securely around her back listening along to the excited conversation of everyone present, her son in particular, each time he was met with a new face. Until it seemed to reach a peak.

"YOU'RE HARRY POTTER!" "There it is." George whispered amusedly in y/ns ear. "The one and only." Harry smiled, "I must say, you look so much like your father. Except the eyes of course you've got-" "-my mothers eyes. Yes. So people keep telling me." Marc nodded with thin lips, this being maybe the hundredth time he'd been told so. "Sorry, trust me, I know that line gets a bit old." Harry smiled to himself.

Y/n was wrapped up in the various pieces of conversation that met her ears as more introductions were made. She always felt something had been missing from her life, she assumed it were simply Fred. She was wrong. This is what she was missing. They were missing from her.

They were her missing piece.

"Hello, my boy, I'm Arthur - your grandfather it'd appear" he stated warmly very much liking the sound of that. "What do you do?" His grandson asked curiously. "I work with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts in the Ministry. Tell me..." Arthur began in a firm murmur, "do you know how exactly a 'microwave' works? I've been told it is a box which produces heat a-" "Daaaad not now!" Ron had grumbled. "I'm Ron. I'm an Auror with the Ministry" "like Mr Potter?" "Exactly." "Wicked".

"Greetings, Marcos. I'm Percy" came the next, posh, voice. "Hello, what do you do?" "I work within the Ministry-" Percy began before being interrupted by a sarcastic voice, "yeah don't worry about that one, Mate. Percy is in no running for the favourite uncle." George had spoke loudly causing a wave of chuckles to issue through the room.

Everyone was so warm and inviting and excited, it made y/ns heart swell. Hand placed to her chest as the other muffled her quiet gasps as joyful tears fell from her eyes. It was perfect, until she noticed something.

Where was Molly? Her eyes scanned the room, she was here not a moment ago where had she...

George noticed her shifting gaze and tensed posture. "Something the matter?" He whispered before his own eyes scanned the crowd of people. She needn't say a word as realisation struck swiftly, causing him to straighten himself. Dread flooded his body. "Don't fret, love" he whispered once again, gently rubbing her shoulder blades before taking a step towards Charlie - the closest member of his family - tugging on his shirt sleeve. Charlie leaned himself back towards his brother, eyes not leaving Marcos, nor the smile leaving his face. "Where's mum?" George asked. Charlie shrugged in response with a slight shake of his head "no idea".

Worry set in across Georges face, caught by Ginny across the room, whose head fell to the side as she silently asked the question, mouthing a simple "what?" To this George mouthed back "Mum?"

Her gaze quickly fixed to the room, brows furrowing as she noticed her mother's absence. Ginny looked back to George, shrugging she mouthed "up stairs?" George grimaced. It wasn't like his Mother simply to disappear. He certainly hadn't expected such a reaction. Given the circumstances, she should have been the first greeting him. With a suffocating hug and some offer of food.

"One sec" Ginny mouthed, holding up a finger while she quietly ascended the Burrows staircase in search of Molly.

George placed a firm hold around y/n again as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Ginny returned a few minutes later, arms wide with a shake of her head to let him know her search came up empty. George nodded a thank you, turning his head over his shoulder toward the kitchen. Empty. But the door...the door wasn't latched.

With a final squeeze to y/ns shoulder and a light comforting kiss to the top of her hair line he left her side for the first time since they'd arrived.

Y/ns arms wrapped around her body feeling far too vulnerable in the moment without George by her side. But she knew he had to be the one to find her.

Charlie's attention had been turned to the pair as he noticed Ginnys shrug in their direction. Looking just in time to see George walk towards the door as y/n tensed, insecurities and anxiety setting in.

He was unsure how to react. On the one hand he was ecstatic to discover he had a Nephew, one which oozed confidence and joy. One exactly like the Brother he'd lost. He fit like a puzzle piece into their lives, filling a hole they thought would never be filled. Though the cracks were still there, and he could never truly replace Fred - not that they'd want or expect him to, Marcos was the missing piece they needed in their lives. More than any of them probably realised.

On the other hand, however, Charlie was angry. Worse than angry. He was full-fledged fucking furious. Not an emotion usually acquainted with Charlie Weasley, the most carefree and open minded Weasley in the clan. To think someone he considered a friend, no. family. For years could just up and disappear from their lives, hiding this boy from them, this part of their family from them for more than a decade...it was a thought that made him sick. Feeling his throat close over and stomach turn at the disgusting lie he'd been unknowingly living. Talk about hard pills to swallow. Could he look past this?

Staring at the girl infront of him he did what he's always done. He began to reason. As painful as this is he knows there's two sides to every story and lashing out in anger is not going to solve anything. So he looks at it from her perspective; she'd just lost the man she loved. Perhaps she didn't know at the time she was pregnant? After that she ran, he remembered the last time he saw her. She'd broke down saying she can't stay in England any more, he'd thought it was just the emotions talking but she was gone days later, once everyone who'd died were buried. So she ran, and found out she was pregnant. She was alone and grieving and terrified. Still he couldn't see why she didn't think she could come to them. That was beyond even his reasoning, he assumed she'd explain all of this in due time. Until then what she really needed was for them to be there for her.

So, swallowing all those festering venomous thoughts he stepped toward her. Placing a tentative hand to her shoulder with a brief half smile. She looked to him defeated, his name falling from her lips in a sigh the beginning of an apology followed as she trembled before him. He silenced her with a shake of his head, wrapping her within his arms in a hug to let her know everything would be okay. "We're here for you" he whispered simply.

As George stepped out of the house in search of his Mother, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the bright unfiltered sunlight beating down overhead, he scanned the hills and the veggie patch - where she wasn't. Walking slowly he headed for the back garden - where she was.

Sitting with her back to him on their concret garden bench, her posture was stiffly straight but her head hung low. The light sniffle of her nose told him everything he needed to know about her current emotional state. He had been fully prepared to find her seething with anger, afterall she had never been afraid to cry infront of the family before but anger was something she rarely liked to broadcast. Unless of course a scolding was in order for her children's bad behaviour. But here she was crying.

He placed a gentle hand to her shoulder unable to think of the words to make his presence known. She jumped at the touch before placing a hand atop his own. "Mum?" He asked hesitantly, she didn't speak, only wiped the fresh tears which had fallen from her eyes with the corner of her appron. George moved to sit next to her, hand not leaving her shoulder. He patiently waited for her to speak knowing it best not to force any conversation.

His eyes travelled over her face; eyes puffy and red, lip trembling slightly. Then down to her hands which both now played tensely with her frayed appron ending. He always hated to see his mother so upset, usually he had a joke to crack making her smile but since Fred he had trouble 'picking up the slack', as it were. Never able to break an awkward silence the way Fred had. He needed that first line from another to prompt any sort of sarcastic or witty remark. Hate to admit it but he were a tad envious of his twin in that respect.

After several long minutes Molly spoke. "Oh, George..." she sobbed defeatedly. His attention was immediately back on her face, waiting for her next strangled set of words. "He-he...he's..." "he's not mine." George nudged playfully in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere but it comes out a tad sad in his opinion.

"He's so much like him. Exactly like him if not for the..." "eyes." George spoke, smiling fondly at the thought, "he has his mother's eyes." Molly faced him finally, "Why'd you leave?" He questioned. Gingerly running a hand through the hair above her sons scar she replied sadly "It was just too hard." And more tears fell.

"It's hard for all of us Mum, I know it's a lot and this would be the last thing you'd ever expect to come from the fireplace but it's what came. And through all the bad and confusing you need to see the good. You have a Grandchild. Your first. What you've always wanted." "But George, it's not-he..." "he looks exactly like Fred, sounds exactly like Fred and acts exactly like Fred. But he's not, I know. He's not Fred. But he's a piece of him. More than what we had." Molly was shaking with tears now as George spoke with her. A similar burning taking root behind his eyes, but he had to hold strong. The family needed that right now. "I know it's hard, believe me when I found out I-well...let's just say some bystanders were scared they were about to witness a murder" he chuckled. "I'd never been so angry. But y/n explained everything. She talked me through it and she'll do that with you. With everyone. You just have to give her the chance."

Molly scoffed slightly as she let out a long breath. Looking up to her son her heart swelled to think she was able to raise such a strong, passionate and caring young man. She'd never been prouder of him. Seeing how, through everything; the war, losing Fred, finding out the truth about Marcos. How he managed to stay that compassionate and loving young man she always knew...it was beyond her how he could do that.

She'd lost so much during the wars. In the first she lost her brothers, and countless friends, then she lost a son to the second. When had she lost herself along the way? It was then she knew she needed to be the mother he deserved. That they all deserved, stronger than she had been before. She had to be with her family now. The family which just grew by a member. "What do you say, Ma, Ready to meet your Grandson? Cause you know I've been telling him all about how his Grandmother is the world's best cook. Don't know how much longer he's going to be able to wait for one of your homemade apple pies I've been telling him so much about."

Molly began to smile through her light tears before her face dropped completely. "Oh no!" She'd near shouted placing hands to her mouth, jumping from her place on the bench and startling George in the process. "I didn't cook any apple pies! I didn't think to! Usually we only eat those on very special occasions and- well, yes of course this is the most special occasion...but I had no idea!" Molly paced back and forth fussing over the fact she had no pies prepared "oh, George, you don't suppose he'll be too disappointed do you? I'm sure I can whip up a batch before dinner. Oohh but I haven't any apples! I'll have to run to the store".

George sat smiling fondly as his mother twidled her fingers together stressfully. It was endearing he thought, how quickly her priorities change. It wasn't till she started running her hands through her hair and down her appron he knew she needed to be calmed down.

He stood, placing both hands to her elbows to stop her pacing, looking down to her with a grin "Mum...relax." "oh George but the pies!" "MUM! How bout, first things first...you meet the boy." Silent laughter radiated through his chest as her eyes flew open "oh of course! How could I be so selfish! Do I look okay? I don't want to come across as some nutter" "doesn't matter how you look, you'll ways be a nutter." Molly smacked her son's arm as he laughed.

Slowly the two made their way back inside, his arm tight around her shoulder. He found it concerning at how slow she were walking but knew this was a difficult situation.

As the kitchen door swung open all eyes fell to the pair. Marcos was sitting on the small coffee table of the sitting area as everyone was gathered around, filling him in on anything and everything he wanted to know. Y/n was tucked closely under Charlie's arm on the sofa. Everyone went quiet once again as the two rejoined. Y/ns eyes flew to George who nodded at her, letting her know everything was okay.

Y/n was the only one to move as George and Molly approached the group. She stood, grabbing Marcos by his hands and moving him towards his Grandmother.

He stood straightly, smiling before her as y/n knelt beside him. "Marcos, this is Molly. Your Grandmother" y/n smiled sweetly but nervous up to Molly who only had eyes for the boy infront of her. She had a hand placed to her mouth as she held back glistening tears. "It's nice to meet you" he held out his hand for her to shake, but she didn't move to take it.

"Wait for it" George smirked knowingly. Marcos dropped his hand slightly, head falling to the side in confusion. Wait for wha-

Molly instantly swooped down, engulfing the young boy in a bone crushing hug as a heavy breath left her throat. "We're so glad to have you here, my boy." She let him go, leaning back to place his face between her palms smiling brightly through joyful, unfallen tears. "Bit peaky, what's say we begin dinner" she asked warmly. "That sounds nice" Marcos mumbled through squished cheeks.

"Come, this way Dear," Molly placed a hand to his back directing him to where they'd be eating, fussing over the boy more with each step.

George and Y/n watched on as her son happily seated himself at the table and Molly began piling various foods onto his plate as the rest of the family did the same from the lounge, basking in the small moment shared between Grandmother and Grandson.

'This is how it should always have been' Y/n thought with a heavy heart. There was a calmness in her mind as she watched on, replaying the way the family had greeted the pair as they entered. Things might just work out better than she had feared. Might.

#harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #George weasley x reader #fred weasley/reader

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