#i can also see him being someone the villagers go to for dressing caught beasts

[heirbane]

I've considered gaius having a little garden at his place in Terncliff - something for allie and him to tend to, maybe a small passive income from growing fruits and vegetables in the immediate aftermath of Endwalker, when he's unable to do much mercenary work.

But I just also got walloped with the concept of them having a handful of Karakul sheep and Estinien having to teach them how to shepherd.

#cute. adorable. #i know there's a minion you can get from the v.aris tower that was his dog. and i do think if the wol was #close to g.aius that it would make sense for the dog to go live with him (if the wol didn't keep it themselves) #so there is Hilarity in a pampered flat-faced pedigree dog trying to learn how to herd sheep #i can also see him being someone the villagers go to for dressing caught beasts #most of the meat the wer.lytans eat involve fish and small game so i doubt many know what to do with big game catches #which. he's been living off the land for years. carving the meat from a boar or another beastkin isn't beyond him #ⅹⅳ tertius oculus ( hcs. )

[howlingday]

"Hey, Renny?"

"Mm?" Ren didn't turn from his position of cutting potatoes for tonight's meal. His childhood friend, Nora was tapping two meat tenderizers together, pretending they were lovers. She did this often in the stone kitchen, especially when the other servants were elsewhere in the castle.

"Do you think Jauney is happy?"

Ren blinked, then set down the knife. He turned to face her. Nora was sitting on the ground, wearing her black Ursa pelt over her shoulders, two meat tenderizers in her calloused hands. "What do you mean, Nora?"

"I mean, ever since Pyrrha," Nora made an uncomfortable face, "you know, Jauney has been really grumpy. Our fights aren't as fun anymore, he doesn't laugh at my jokes, and he's been especially angry at the people at his royal court."

Ren sighed. "Lord Arc has been under a lot of stress, Nora. He is the lord of these lands, and he doesn't have as much time to enjoy himself since winter is due in only a few months."

"Hm..." Nora tapped her chin in thought. "What if we buy him a whore?"

Ren blinked, then returned to his potatoes. "...No."

"Well, I'm stumped!" Nora stood as she exclaimed. "He has all this stress, but he can't get it out. It's not healthy!"

"I wouldn't worry about it, Nora. The harvest festival will be soon, Lord Arc will find have fun, and he will go back to his usual self." Ren grabbed the good potato slices from the cutting board and placed them in the pot of water. He slid the rest into a separate bowl with his knife.

Nora set the meat tenderizers on the stone counter. "Okay, but if he's still grouchy after the festival, I'm buying him the best whore lien can buy!"

"You're going to buy who what?"

Ren froze in place as the familiar voice spoke. He turned, facing the lord if this castle and his employer. He looked the same as he did when they first met; deep, blue eyes, under a mop of shaggy, golden hair and above a chin of golden stubble, and wearing a black Beowolf hide over his shoulders, hiding his muscular.

"Oh, hi, Jauney!" Nora jumped with joy.

"L-Lord Arc!" Ren gave a deep bow, hiding his blush from being embarrassed. "What a pleasant surprise! To what do we owe this honor?"

Jaune passed a glance between the two, silently judging them. He then smirked, reminding Ren that, though he was his lord, he was also a cherished friend. "What's this about buying a whore?"

Ren's face continued to flare. How much of the conversation did he hear? Ren lifted his head to face his lord, and saw his amused grin. Ren sighed before speaking once more. "We were just discussing our shared concern for your well-being, Lord Arc. Nora was simply providing a solution for your stress."

"By buying me a whore?"

"Yes!" Nora proudly exclaimed.

"N-No, my lord!" Ren countered.

Jaune simply laughed. "So which is it? Am I getting a whore or not?"

"I-" Ren choked out.

"Lord Arc," came a cry from another room, "are you here, sire?!"

Jaune sighed. "Sounds like more bad news. Before I leave, what do you think it might be?"

Nora answered before Ren could speak. "Maybe one of those creeps are coming for a visit again."

"Now, Nora," Jaune chided, "just because Queen Salem's Inner Circle are unlike us, it doesn't mean that they are to be treated any less than us."

"But they are creepy! Especially that stinger-guy!"

Jaune was silent for a moment of thought. "I suppose you're not wrong there."

"Perhaps, Lord Arc, the whores have caught wind of our plans?" Ren asked with a small smile.

Jaune barked a laugh. "Maybe they did!" He sighed before stepping towards the exit. "I'll go see about the shouting." He suddenly stopped a few steps from the door. "Oh, but before I leave, what is tonight's supper?"

"Tonight, you are having chicken stew with carrots, potatoes, and onions." Ren answered, filled with the confidence fitting of the Lord Arc's personal cook.

"Sounds good! Nora, are you coming with?"

"On my way, Jauney!" Nora skipped to Ren and kissed his cheek. "Bye, Renny! Jauney and I are gonna go get bad news!" Nora then skipped out of the kitchen, following her lord.

Ren sighed and returned to his task. One day, someone's going to have a problem with Nora's casual attitude. Until then, however, Ren would mind to his cooking.

Jaune made his way to the main hall, where the shouting was coming from. He walked in and found his messenger, Russel open his mouth to shout once more, only to shut it upon seeing his lord. The young man was wearing an undecorated black Grimm pelt, a sign showing that though he was a member of lord Arc's defense, he had yet to prove himself worthy of any notable position.

"Yeah, I heard you. Are we under attack?"

"Have the whores caught wind?" Nora asked as she stepped in.

"I- what?" Russel asked in confusion. He then shook his head. "No, my lord, I have just recieved word of a small force on their way to the castle."

"How small?" Jaune asked.

"Just three; a man and two women."

Nora scoffed. "Just two women? Please! I'm ten times worth any woman!"

"Y-Yes, but there's more."

"More?" Jaune asked.

"Yes, my lord. You see, the woman leading them is described as a raven-haired maiden in a red dress."

Jaune clenched his teeth, and felt his breath grow shallower. "What color were here eyes?"

Russel swallowed the lump in his throat before answering. "From whatever men survived their encounter with her, described her as a witch with amber eyes."

"Jaune-"

"Nora," Jaune interrupted, "alert the rest of the castle. I want everyone ready for whatever happens next."

Nora nodded. "Yes, my lord!" Russel paled further. When dame Nora, the most crass of Jaune's closest charges and his right hand, spoke formally to lord Arc, he knew the danger was real.

"Russel," Jaune spoke, breaking the messenger out of his stupor. "What did you mean by, 'whatever men survived their encounter'?"

Cinder yawned as she passed through the hamlet on her steed. The black beast bellowed smoke from it's ember-lit maw as it trudged forward. Emerald glanced between her lady and the people who cowered in their houses. Mercury grinned with delight as he watched people flinched at meeting his gaze.

When he saw a pretty girl, his grin shifted to a wide, predatory smile. They would weep at the sight of this, hiding behind their husbands, fathers, and brothers with the same amount of fear. He chuckled every time.

"Mercury," Cinder spoke, "what do you think you're doing?" She didn't meet his eyes when he looked up. She faced forward, her face as indifferent as it was when they entered the hamlet.

"I'm just having fun." He defended.

"Your 'fun' is upsetting our beast. Continue," her gaze finally met his, amber eyes alight with wrath, "and I will have my fun with you." Mercury flinched and faced forward. "Besides, you'll have plenty of time for fun once we reach Arc's hovel."

"Does he know we're coming, ma'am?" Emerald asked.

"I have sent more than enough messages to ensure that he will greet us personally."

"And if he doesn't?"

Cinder looked around. Every door was shut. Every window filled with at least one person. Every home with a family as small as two people or as big as four generations. She smiled.

"Then I'll just have to send a bigger message."

Nora stood outside the gates, the cold autumn wind biting her skin. She liked this, though. It reminded her that she was hardy, tougher than the supposed "ladies" who would rather hide and let someone else fight their battles.

She looked up and saw gray clouds combining, gathering together to choke out whatever blue and light remained in the sky. It was going to rain soon, but again, she didn't care. If she became sick, she would just power through it, like she did all things. Plus, Ren would wait on her, hand and foot, as he always did before. She smiled at the thought.

The sound of running footsteps returned her focus to the road leading to the castle. Another messenger showed up, this time with singed clothes. What was his name again? Duck?

"Reports from the nearby village; two-"

"Women and one man are approaching the castle." Nora interrupted. "Yeah, we heard."

"The woman leading them was also riding a black monster we've never seen before! What do we do?"

Nora looked him up and down. He was pudgy, kind of short compared to Ren and Jaune. He wore an unmarked Grimm pelt like the other one, except his was burnt, and slightly smoldering. She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "Go inside, get cleaned up, and get ready to fight."

"Yes, dame!" He rushed past her after giving a salute. She hated formality, especially getting them.

It has been three years since the day she "earned" her title. She remembers because it was given to her by the Black Queen herself as a reward for turning her back on everything she cared for. Two nights after she and Jaune surrendered to her after that monster murdered her best friend, Pyrrha.

Nora pulled out a spyglass and peered down the road. No one was approaching. Nora began grinding her teeth. She put away the spyglass and turned towards the castle.

"Looking for someone?"

Nora turned towards the voice. The voice of the murderer from that night. Atop a Grimm twice her size, sat Lady Cinder Fall in her red dress with golden accents. She had a wry smile on her face, like a tyrant out of a fairy tale after telling them their hero had died. Like she had after slaughtering her friends.

"No." Nora answered, glaring at the murderer. "I was looking for something, and then you showed up."

"Referring to a lady as a thing?" The assassin to Cinder's right said. "Sounds like treason if you ask me."

"No one asked you. Besides, what I was going to ask you was, 'how's your knees?' You know, after I broke them?" Mercury stepped forward, but a snap of Cinder's fingers brought him to heel.

The woman stepped forward instead. "We request-"

"Demand, Emerald." Cinder corrected.

"-Demand an audience with Lord Jaune Arc. Is he available?"

Nora eyed the woman carefully. She didn't remember seeing her. Was she there that night, or did she join after that? "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Emerald repeated.

"Uh-huh."

Cinder slid from her steed and stepped towards Nora. "There's no need to be rude." She checked her fingernails. "After all, we're all on the same side, right? We both pledged our loyalty to Queen Salem, no?" She lowered her head to be level with Nora's, smiling. "I mean, unless you feel another example should be made."

"Like burning more of our messengers?"

"Like burning another champion."

Nora reeled back a fist. Mercury crouched like a wound spring, while Emerald drew her twin, curved blades. As the Grimm began salivating a glowing red liquid from it's maw, Nora swung forward.

And Cinder kept smiling.

"Lady Fall!" A voice called from behind, stopping Nora from connecting her punch. Nora turned and saw Jaune walking out from the castle gates, arms wide open and a smile on his face. "I wish you had contacted sooner! The castle is an absolute mess, and there's only enough food for one helping for the four of us."

Cinder stepped around Nora and approached Jaune with the same gesture. Nora watched as they hugged. "I do apologize, Lord Arc, but our matter was so urgent, it had to be done without much warning. Why, I recieved the news before the crow of this morning's rooster!" The two shared a laugh. "And don't worry about dinner, we won't be long."

Jaune wrapped an arm around Cinder's shoulder and guided her inside. "And send you home on empty stomachs? Oh, no! I insist! Come, my cook was preparing a delicious chicken stew."

"Can you stew a chicken, Lord Arc?"

"I can't, but my cook can!" The laughter echoed from inside.

"Don't wait up." Mercury taunted as he stepped past. Emerald followed quietly. Nora eyed the Grimm as it stood there. She turned and walked inside.

She hated formalities, but she hated this even more.

Lady Cinder Fall, protege and student of Black Queen Salem, was impressed by the dinner. The dining hall itself, though not as large as her majesty's, was certainly large enough to house an army. And based on the large number of occupants currently eating before her, it did.

Cinder sat at a long table next to Lord Arc, her other side occupied by Emerald and Mercury, and Lord Arc's side occupied by his two lackeys, the girl from outside and some burly meathead he never met. In front of her were rows of soldiers, messengers, guards, and castle staff eating from their plates and bowls.

"More wine?" The young man in a green robe asked, holding a bottle of red wine. He looked as young as Lord Arc, and had a pink strip of hair in his bangs.

"No, thank you." Cinder presented a soft smile.

"I'll have some!" Mercury said, shaking his empty glass.

Cinder rolled her eyes and turned to Lord Arc. He sat quietly, looking out to his subjects with smile. His glass and bowl were empty, save for a few drops remaining of his wine and soup. "Lord Arc," Cinder began, immediately getting his attention, "regarding the important business we must discuss."

"Oh, of course. But can it wait until after dinner?" Lord Arc asked. "It's like my father once said; 'politics only aid indigestion.' And considering this is urgent news from her majesty herself, it could only be something political, right?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Her majesty, Black Queen Salem, has tasked me to deliver a message for you."

"Oh? And what might this message entail?"

"Queen Salem requests to know your intentions as Lord of the eastern coast."

"I... I'm afraid I don't understand the question." Lord Arc grew tense, she could tell. She could also see how close his protectors were listening in. "When Queen Salem graced me with the task of acting as lord of Vale's eastern coast, I thought I was to simply act as she would have me."

"Yes, but she's curious as to your endgame. Surely, you don't intend to simply live the rest of your life alone with no legacy; no songs of great deeds left to outlast you twice over?"

"...Lady Fall, I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I'm just not ready for your proposal to wed."

Cinder laughed. It was fake, but she tried to make it sound genuine. "Oh no, Lord Arc! This isn't a marriage proposal. But her majesty is concerned you may not be... up to the task."

"Is this a question of my loyalty?"

"Perhaps," she smirked, "but I feel a test is more appropriate."

The sound of liquid splashing suddenly caught Lord Arc's attention. He stood over Cinder and he gritted his teeth. Wearing her smile, she turned to watch as Mercury poured a third bottle of wine onto the servant's head. His hair was soaked and matted as he continued to bow.

"Damn, out again." Mercury said in a bored tone. "What was this wine called again?"

"The Rouge Rogue, sir." The servant replied. "Aged for twenty years from the-"

"Boring!" Mercury cracked the bottle over the servant's head. He fell with a thump, the bottle shattering and cutting his scalp.

"REN!" The girl screamed as she rose, unknowingly signaling the rest of the castle to not only rise as well, but rise with weapons in their hands. The soldiers and guards rose with swords and axes, while the servants, both too young to speak clearly and too old to stand without a cane, held forks and knives in their hands. "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU SONUVA-!"

"SILENCE!"

Everyone froze in place and stared as Lord Arc, master of this castle, roared his prominence. His face was red with rage, but his hands, held aloft, were stiff. The crowd was silent, save for Mercury, who just laughed. Jaune stepped from the table and approached him.

"Clean that up."

"Is this guy serious?" Mercury said. "I'm an agent of Black Queen Salem, the most powerful creature who ever lived, and he thinks he can give me orders?" He then spit on Lord Arc's face. "Touch me, and I'll burn this whole damn castle to the ground. Hell, might have some fun doing it, too!"

Lord Arc turned towards Cinder. She continued to smile. "Don't look at me, Lord Arc. It's as he says; he's an agent of Salem. Harming him will have consequences from her majesty herself."

Lord Arc faced Mercury once more. "Is that true? You serve only Salem?"

"Pfft!" Mercury scoffed. "No shit, dumbass! I don't serve 'Lady' Cinder, or you! The only person I answer to is Black Queen Salem herself."

"I see. That will make this so much easier."

"Make what easier?"

"This." Lord Arc backhanded Mercury and sent him sprawling to the ground. He spit out a tooth as he got to his hands and knees. "Apologize."

"Y-You can't hit me!" Mercury staggered to his feet. "I serve-!"

Lord Arc backhanded him again, this time sending him over the table. The servant named Ren stood by the table and watched silently, his hand covering his bleeding scalp. Lord Arc glanced to him. "Take some servants and return to the kitchen. Have your wounds tended."

"Y-Yes, my lord!" The wounded servant signaled to the other servants and five of then set down their utensils to before rushing to tend to his wounds.

Lord Arc returned his attention to Mercury. "Apologize." Mercury murmured as he rose to his knees. "Apologize." Lord Arc repeated sternly.

Mercury Black kneeled before Lord Jaune Arc, his head bowed. "I am sorry, my lord. I repent and beg that you forgive me."

"You are a murderer and coward. You attacked my castle, murdered my subjects, and aided in the assassination of my fiancee. I can't remember how many times I hit you that night, but it was never enough to make you stop. And now you come to my home again to commit the same crimes, only to bend your knee at only two strikes."

Cinder's smile had grown to a predatory grin as she watched Lord Arc pass judgement on Mercury. Her keen eyes saw what led to this moment as well. This was what she came here to see.

"Mercury Black, in your path of bloodshed to your current standing as an agent of the Black Queen, you have proven that you have only grown more cowardly and pathetic in your services." Lord Arc grabbed Mercury by his hair. "Return to Salem, and tell her of your failures. Only then will you be forgiven." He then pushed Mercury away, tears streaming down the assassin's face. He looked to Cinder. "I believe it would be best for you to leave."

"Must we, though?" Cinder replied. "You would send is back in the middle of the night, storm clouds brewing above as we speak, with only myself and Emerald capable of fending for ourselves?"

Lord Arc held a pained face of guilt. Good. That will make things much easier.

Jaune stood on his balcony and watched as the storm clouds rolled across the sky. As Lady- No, as Cinder predicted, the sky was black, with no moon or stars to shine. Thunder bellowed in the distance as lightning flashed in the clouds. No rain, though.

He sighed and looked to his land. Everything was dark, so he could not see far, but what he could see pained him. He saw the tree where he would spend his summer days napping. The same tree where he met her.

He stepped away from the balcony and into his chambers. He walked to his bed and glanced at his weapon to it's side. He nodded to it's presence and sat on his bed. He replayed the night's events in his head.

He started from checking on his longtime friend in the kitchen. His wounds were cleaned and treated. All that was left was for time to heal. When Nora stomped in full of rage, Ren calmed her as best as he could. He felt guilty allowing his friends to suffer as they had, even when Ren noticed and told him not to.

Before that, he had to see to his guest's quarters. Mercury had not yet broken from his adjustment, which Jaune felt neither pity nor shame. Perhaps the punishment will be enough to change him for the better. Cinder and her fellow female companion aided in bringing him to their room. What was her name? She was so quiet at dinner, but she was close enough to Cinder to sit next to her at dinner.

Regardless, Cinder stated the quarters were satisfactory for the night. Once confident in their comfort, Jaune exited to allow them to rest. He didn't care for their company, but as Lord of the castle, he would serve only to anger his queen by leaving her inner circle to fend for themselves in the storm and darkness.

A knock on his chamber door awoke him from his reminiscing. He hurried to the door and opened it, finding an unexpected visitor.

"G-Good evening, Lord Arc." The young woman of green hair from before spoke nervously in her white nightgown. Perhaps his display earlier had frightened her, or maybe his very presence simply put her on edge. Nonetheless, he greeted her kindly.

"Good evening," he replied. "I apologize, but I don't believe I caught your name."

"My name is Emerald. Emerald Sustrai, Lord Arc." She was nervous. Though, with Summer's End so close, it would not be surprising that she was cold as well. "I wished to have a word with you."

"This couldn't wait until morning? It's late, and it has been a long day for us both, I'm sure."

"Yes, but I wished to discuss what happened today with you, if you don't mind." Jaune looked around the corners, seeing no guards. Only torches lit along the walls. "May I come in?"

Jaune rubbed his chin, and felt stubble. He hummed to himself a little at the feeling. Had it really been so long since he last shaved. He then sighed, remembering his guest, and stepped aside, gesturing with an arm for her to enter. As she entered, Jaune caught a faint scent of lavender from her. He hummed once more, then shut the door.

"What did you want to talk about?" Jaune asked as casually as possible. It would be best to keep her at ease. "Your trip, your mission, or-"

"I wanted to ask about your semblance."

Jaune blinked. "My semblance?"

"Y-Yes. You used your semblance on Merc earlier, and I wanted to know how it worked."

"To find a weakness?" Jaune asked with caution. He stepped towards his bed, not revealing his back to her once.

"No! It's just..." Emerald gulped. Was she sent to spy on him?

"Just what?" Jaune repeated. "The only times people want to know about the abilities of another is to either gloat their superiority, or to exploit a weakness from a gullible opponent."

"W-What if I told you mine? Just to make us even?" Jaune seated himself on his bed. He then waved for Emerald to continue with his hand. Emerald sighed and held out her hand. Her eyes focused on it. Suddenly, as though from nowhere, a flower grew from her palm. It was a small lavender, in size and shape, but it casted no shadow as Jaune watched. Emerald stepped forward and help the delicate plant in front him. Jaune tried to pluck it, but it died in his fingers, fading away as he touched it.

"Illusion." Jaune stated. "Your semblance tricks a foe with an illusion you desire them to see." He chuckled. "It's certainly impressive, but judging by your breathing, it requires a lot of concentration to maintain."

"And... what of yours, Lord Arc?" She said, still catching her breath. "That was... no illusion... that made Merc bow to you."

"Supremacy." Jaune answered. "When I strike an opponent's aura, their will ebbs away, eventually forcing them to submit to me. Depending on how strong one's will is, I will either have to hit them once, or multiple times."

Emerald gulped. "I... I see."

"Now that I've answered your question, I have a question for you." Jaune stood, his frame towering over Emerald, his blue eyes squinting. "What are you doing in my room so late in the night, Emerald Sustrai?"

Emerald didn't speak. She didn't dare look in his eyes. Was her plan found out? It was supposed to be a simple in and out reconnaissance mission. All she had to do was get information on Lord Arc's semblance and report back to Cinder. She wasn't prepared to fight; she left her weapons in her room, concerned she wouldn't have been able to hide them from the man. Now, she was vulnerable.

"Are you going to answer me?" Emerald remained frozen, like a rabbit in a tiger's cage. "Would you like for me to answer for you? Nod if you do."

Emerald wanted to shake her head, if only to be given more time to think of a lie. But she didn't. Like a fool, she nodded.

Lord Arc circled around her. "I'll bet you thought you were clever. Sneaking in, taking what you came for, and then retreating to celebrate your conquest." He stopped in front of her. "But you made one mistake in coming here." Emerald shut her eyes, expecting the worst.

She heard the bed squeak. "I'm just not in the mood." Emerald opened her eyes and saw Lord Arc lounging back on his bed. "Don't get me wrong; you're certainly beautiful, and on almost any other night, I would have ravaged you until all I could think was lavender, but I'm just not interested."

Emerald stood there, blinking. "Er, so you're saying I'm here to...?"

"Are you not a whore?"

Emerald's cheeks flushed. "Wh- No!" She didn't mean to scream, but she couldn't control herself due to the indignity of it. True, she is a liar, a thief, and, in some instances, a murderer, but never a streetwalker. "I'm not a whore!"

Lord Arc sat up. "Then why are you here?"

Emerald cursed herself. Her pride got the better of her. She coughed into her fist as she spoke again. "W-What I mean is, I don't think of myself as a whore. I prefer the term... escort."

Lord Arc's cheeks flushed. "Oh, I am so sorry! I... I had always heard it spoken as- W-Well, in any case, I humbly apologize."

Emerald saw an opportunity. "W-Well, you should! I can't believe your friends paid me so well to 'entertain' you, only for you to insult me!" She turned her back to him and stepped towards the chamber door.

"Wait," Lord Arc called out, "before you go, allow me to apologize in full." Lord Arc reached into a location she didn't see and heard him walk behind her with a jingle in his hands. He placed a hand on her left shoulder and moved his right hand to in front of her, a hefty bag of coins in his palm. "I hope you can forgive me for my rudeness."

Emerald took the coins. "Hm, I'll consider it." She then kissed his cheek. "But only because you're so kind." She then stepped out of his chambers and down the hall, sashaying her behind for show, certain his eyes were on her until she turned the corner. She then sighed in relief.

"This better be worth the trouble." She whispered to no one.

#rwby #lie ren #nora valkyrie #jaune arc #rwby au #lord arc au #cinder fall #mercury black #emerald sustrai

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hey does nie huisang's mother ever come back? I really liked the part where she doted and bonded with mingjue. I think even though she's not human she'd be even more delighted with him and more or less adopt him all over again after seeing how he cared so fiercely for huisang (also I don't think she'd care that guangyao has given up. Try to touch either of her kids and your a dead man... or maybe just mingjue? Since he's human and a LOT younger than her maybe she just goes around killing the people that have the capacity and wish to kill him)

spontaneous sequel to this morning’s fic (ao3 link here)

-

Huli jing were pretty rare, as spiritual beasts went, and that was generally considered to be a good thing - when they were bad, they were very very bad - but Nie Mingjue faithfully followed up on every possible lead regardless, putting it out among the other cultivation sects that he had a special interest and would appreciate - with monetary remuneration, even - a heads up should one ever show itself.

Mostly this meant following up on a lot of false leads, including, in one somewhat embarrassing case, an actual fox that had stolen the local farmer’s prize goose.

Still: family was family, and so he kept it up.

He had to stop during the war, naturally, and in the period immediately following it when his health had gotten very bad for a while, although luckily the dragon managed to fix it back up, and he’d been doing very well ever since. Lan Xichen had wondered if it was Clarity and Jin Guangyao had refused to talk to him for a month for some reason, but that wasn’t that important.

He was feeling better now, so he started following up on leads again. Nie Huaisang was coming up on his first quarter-century very soon, and that was supposed to be a big event - his first tail! - and books were all well and good but someone, anyone, with experience was better.

Ironically enough, he found what he was looking for on a scheduled hunt that wasn’t anything anyone had identified as a huli jing, but rather what appeared to be rather a great deal of nu gui appearing all at once near Lanling, enough to make a notorious womanizer like Jin Guangshan start to sweat. They’d all been making the rounds, all the various Great Sects together - even Jiang Cheng had joined in, as well as Lan Wangji, recently emerged from seclusion with a scowl firmly on his face.

“Why do you think they’re aiming at the Jin sect?” Lan Xichen wondered aloud as they walked around the edges of an abandoned village very close to Lanling - one of the trouble spots. “It’d be one thing if it were one of them, but so many...?”

“My theory is that someone is murdering all of Sect Leader Jin’s outside women so that they’ll go after him,” Jiang Cheng said, then glanced at Jin Guangyao. “No offense meant, of course.”

Jin Guangyao waved a hand dismissively. He’d started loosening up in the time since he met the dragon, revealing a bit more of his sharper and nastier side in a way that made Nie Mingjue respect him more than all of his fake softness had, and for some reason that had made Jiang Cheng warm right up to him. All for the good, in Nie Mingjue’s opinion, since they were all but co-raising that nephew of theirs...

“Who would do that, though?” he asked. “It’s as if they bear him a grudge, but it seems like a roundabout way of going about -”

“Dumpling!”

Nie Mingjue stopped moving.

There was a woman standing in the door to one of the village houses. Like a nu gui she was dressed all in red, but her flesh was ruddy and her complexion vibrant; her luxurious hair looped in a widow’s braids but her figure just as gorgeous as it had ever been.

She held out her hands towards Nie Mingjue, smiling. “Oh, cabbage bun, meat pie, my darling! How have you been?”

“...did she just...”

“Right to Chifeng-zun‘s face?”

Nie Mingjue put Baxia away.

“Mingjue-xiong?” Lan Xichen asked, frowning. “You should be careful; we had heard that this village was abandoned of all human life.”

“No one who calls Chifeng-zun a cabbage bun could be human,” Jiang Cheng mumbled under his breath. 

“Second mother?” Nie Mingjue called tentatively as he approached, and ignored how the cultivators around him all abruptly went silent and slack-jawed. “Is that you?”

“Naturally,” she said. “You don’t think I’d miss my baby’s birthday, do you? After you did such a good job taking care of him, too! Oh, my little carp, I’m sorry it took so long. I had to cut one off to escape, you understand, and once you do that you’re really rather stuck until you gather enough power to get back to full strength...would’ve been a touch awkward, wouldn’t you say?”

She certainly talked about as much as Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue reflected.

“He’ll be happy to see you,” he said. If this was the wrong huli jing - and he wouldn’t be shocked if it was, what with the way they changed faces - and a trick was being played, it wouldn’t work on Nie Huaisang. “Were you planning on staying long? Just the birthday, or...?”

He wasn’t giving up Nie Huaisang to anyone at all, not even his birth mother.

“I hadn’t quite decided,” she said, nodding in a way that meant that she understood his meaning and didn’t intend to dispute it; he relaxed at the sight of her agreement. “I got a little distracted, actually. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what that nasty man tried to do to you!”

“Nasty man?” Nie Mingjue asked, puzzled. “Do you mean Wen Ruohan? That was ages ago.”

“Not him, my gooey little egg! That nasty Jin sect leader, all sly and underhanded tricks - not that I mind sly and underhanded tricks, of course, least of all murderous ones - but I mean, really. The gall of that man, thinking he could snap up my little morsel before I could!”

“...does she like Chifeng-zun or want to eat him?” Jiang Cheng whispered.

“Unknown,” Lan Wangji murmured back.

“Shhh,” Lan Xichen said. “A-Yao, are you all right? You’ve gone terribly pale...”

“Anyway, chicken wing, I decided to bring back all of his nightmares to haunt him,” she chattered on cheerfully, throwing her head haughtily, the eyes of all the men and women irresistibly followed the graceful lines of her neck and shoulders, though most of them were able to pull their eyes away a moment later. That was her mercy, rather than their strength; she was a strong enough huli jing to entrap a sect leader, and Nie Mingjue’s father had been no slouch, even if he had bad taste in bed partners. “It’s been ever so much fun.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. “Second mother,” he said. “I thought I asked you not to kill people? As a special birthday favor to me?”

“Oh, pork chop, I know! I haven’t forgotten - no killing people around you, I remember, I remember. I haven’t killed anyone...well, in connection with this, anyway. I just had a little chat with some of my underworld friends and brought the ones who’d already died back.”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes shot straight to a - by now - even more pale Jin Guangyao. “Uh,” he said. “By chance, second mother, did you happen to pass by Yunping...?”

“Such a sweet little tanghulu you are! I could pop you right into my mouth and never frown.” He was only a few steps away from her now, and she danced forward to pat him on the cheek. “Don’t worry! I know how much you care for your friends. I made sure not to send A-Shi anywhere those mean old cultivators could get her.”

“A-Yao! Oh, someone help me, I think he’s stopped breathing - come, sit down -”

“You really need to stop bringing back nu gui,” Nie Mingjue decided to say instead of dealing with...that. “They’re not getting past Jinlin Tower’s defenses anyway, and we’re worried about collateral damage.”

His second mother heaved a sigh. “I know, I know,” she said. “I had the same thought as you, meatball, about the defenses. You caught me just as I finished upgrading.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t like the sound of that.

“Of course, it isn’t working out right,” she added, pouting. “You’d think someone who got accused of being a demon so often wouldn’t be so picky about who he’s being asked to murder.”

“I already told you that I’m not a vicious ghost!” a surprisingly familiar voice retorted from inside the house. “I refuse to go around killing people!”

“Oh no - now Jiang Cheng’s fallen down, too! Wangji, could you - Wangji? Wangji!”

Nie Mingjue covered his face with his hand. “You brought back Wei Wuxian.”

“I brought back Wei Wuxian,” his second mother agreed. “I thought it’d be poetic justice - the wronged man come back for revenge. But he’s being persnickety about it, so I have half a mind to just let him go.”

“Good idea,” Nie Mingjue said, deciding to just - let it go. Someone else could deal with it. Possibly Lan Xichen, since it sounded like everyone else had fainted. “Anyway, you’re far too busy to pursue vengeance right now.”

“I am?”

“I know how much you like to throw parties. Don’t you want to help me plan Huaisang’s twenty fifth?”

“Oh!” She clapped her hands. “Absolutely! We can invite positively everyone that tried to get in your way and show off how good a job raising him you did!”

Nie Mingjue thought back over all the creatures he’d ever encountered.

“We’re going to need a bigger venue.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang's mother #jin guangyao #lan xichen #lan wangji #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #I literally just saw this ask and went HAVE TO WRITE THAT #so congrats #you win the fic lottery #mistkissedmoon #child development

[bookstantrash]

A/N: I can’t believe I’m staying true to my word and posting it before the year is over. My self imposed deadline was met, yey me!!

A little heads up for those who read my stuff: January will be a tricky month for me — I still have one exam left — so I don’t know if I’ll be able to post. Then there’s the acosf release, and I plan to avoid being in social media (aka tumblr, twitter) until I’ve read it at least two times lol. I’ll try to write in any spare time that I have, but I’m sorry in advance.

Now, let’s end 2020 with style!! I hope you enjoy the new chapter and wish y’all a good 2021 💜

In which she makes a friend, Part Five

Nesta woke up to soft knocking on her door.

She groaned in her pillow, wanting nothing more than to go back sleep. She was not used to waking up so early — the sun had barely risen on the sky — and she’d had a poor night of sleep, her latest nightmare still too vivid in her mind.

Nesta had a lot of those. Nightmares. Before, it was of Mandray. Of being beneath him again. Of not being able to scape. After being kidnapped by Hybern, they were about Elain. Of failing time and time again to avoid her sister being thrown into that blasted Cauldron.

Once the war had come and gone, it got worse. She’d dream of Elain in that camp, chained near the Cauldron. Would dream of Feyre failing to rescue their sister. Would dream of both of them dying while Nesta was unable to protect them. Another failure that’d hunt her through all of her miserable immortal life.

And she’d dream of him. Of his wings being broken and his screams piercing her ears, her soul. Of Hybern killing him in front of her eyes while she was held down by the evil king’s power. And once she got free, once she blasted that bastard to nothingness, she’d find herself in world without him. A world where she lived with a big nothing inside her.

Last night, however, had been different. She had been dreaming of failing Elain and Feyre again when suddenly she heard a voice. His voice, talking in that melodic and enthralling language, his voice a soft caress that eased her troubles. But as soon as she felt herself calming down, Nesta felt him go away. And so she desperately asked for him to stay with her. At least in her dreams she’d be less proud and afraid to say what she wished to. What she wished she had said to him two months ago.

Don’t go. Stay.

And in her dream he stayed. It had been so realistic that Nesta swore she could still feel his warm calloused hand against her skin, smell his scent, his voice a lover’s caress in her ears and—

She got up from the bed quickly, shaking her head. No good would come from going down that path. She willed her heart to behave and stay quiet in the cage she had locked it into. Wall after wall being risen, being toughened. Sometimes, feeling nothing was better then feeling too much or even anything at all.

Nesta heard knocking again, and quickly discarded her nightgown for the Illyrian leathers. She had struck a promise to train with Kaelin before the girl’s morning training and Nesta hated to be late.

“I’m awake, you don’t have to tear down the door Kaelin” Nesta said, opening her door and almost hitting her face in a leather clad chest.

Cassian was the one knocking on her door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked through clenched teeth.

“Good morning to you too sweetheart” he gave her a teasing grin “Last that I checked, I live here”

“One would wonder if that is true, given your long absence” she replied, knowing she had hit her mark when she saw a muscle twitching on his jaw “Where’s Kaelin?”

“Training has been rescheduled. The younglings start earlier now so those preparing for the Blood Rite can have more time on the training areas” Cassian managed to say.

“I see” Nesta was thinking about going back to sleep when the male in front of her interrupted her thoughts.

“Would you care to have breakfast with me?”

She opened her mouth to dismiss him when she caught the look on his eyes. Not angry anymore at her earlier jab, but anxious. She had never seen Cassian so unsure before, so difficult to read. It was as if his feelings were all over the place.

“It wouldn’t hurt to eat with him” she thought, recalling her dream.

“You are cooking” Nesta declared, moving past him to the kitchen.

“As you wish, your Highness” he did a mocking bow and followed her.

Nesta eyed the tall male in front of her. He cooked with expertise and seemed completely comfortable in the ambient, humming while he mixed some eggs in the frying pan.

He was so... domestic. Nesta almost smiled imagining him with a silly apron, an image so at odds with his usual scary General appearance.

“I talked with Kaelin yesterday” Cassian said after some time.

“And?” Nesta asked, raising an eyebrow

“He’s been training with you. And I was wondering....” he placed the food in front of her, clearing his throat “I was wondering if I could train you. Both of you. Kaelin is not so advanced with his training and there’s also the matter of—”

“The matter of what” she snapped

“Your powers” he fidgeted with a knife, twirling it on his hand, not scared to cut off a finger by accident “I don’t know where you were with Amren in regards to them, but it’s also important to have them in sync with any self defence moves you can learn”

“My powers are none of your concern”

It was a lie. Her classes with Amren had just grazed the surface of what she knew she could do. But she was scared of them. Of what she could do. Her powers were a wild beast that was she forced to live with, a constant reminder of the life she lost.

She hated it.

However, Cassian was right. If she truly wanted to be capable of defending herself — of defending Kaelin were her secret to be discovered — she’d have to accept his help.

“We can train after breakfast” she nonchalantly said, stabbing a piece of the scrambled eggs on her plate “I’m already changed either way”

“Brilliant” Cassian smiled, his whole face seeming to lighten up like the sky after a storm “Prepare yourself to be challenged sweetheart. I’m not one to go easy on my students”

~•~

Cassian did not lie. He didn’t go easy on her. Her whole body ached and she almost regretted her choice to not stay in the cabin, rereading one of her books.

But she had places to go.

“You’re late”

“I’m not late Esmée” Nesta stated, grabbing an apron by the tent’ side and moving to one of the tables “I’m exactly on time”

“You’re thirty seconds late. That’s enough to lose the boiling point for a healing potion and make it a poison instead” Esmée, the chief healer of Windhaven huffed “If I say you’re late then you’re late.”

Nesta only dipped her head and started to work. Esmée might come out as a grump and mean female, but she was only serious about her work, a work which left her with no time for idle talk or sugarcoated pleasantries.

Nesta liked her just fine.

Kaelin had been the one to present her to the healers. Once her period was over and it was safe for her to leave the cabin without someone noticing the change in her scent, Kaelin had taken Nesta in a tour through Windhaven. Nesta did not know anything else except the area around Cassian’s cabin, which included a solitary trail to the forest and the outskirts of the village.

Kaelin appeared to know everyone they passed by. The younglings — who were yet too young to train — happily waved at her when they passed, as did some females who were working. On the other hand, it was different with the males. They eyed Kaelin with distaste and something akin to betrayal in their eyes. Nesta had yet to ask Kaelin why. Was it because she was walking with Nesta, an outsider who not only was High Fae but also the sister in law of their High Lord? She had tucked the information inside herself, analysing everything and everyone they met.

And it was when they were nearing the end of the tour that they had come upon the healers tent. Nesta recalled helping them in the war, bringing buckets of water, doing bandages for the wounded and holding the most serious ones down while they were patched up. She had felt like she had a purpose back then. Like she was not a burden.

She tried not think how it also helped her take her mind off the fearless Illyrian who leaded the troops, leaving only dead bodies with whoever met his blade.

Esmée had remembered her, as did some of the other females that worked alongside her. They had not eyed Nesta with pity or distaste, something she was used to in Velaris. No, they simply gave her a nod of recognition and went back to work, mixing herbs, cutting straps of bandages and tending to patients.

“Are you going to help or will you stay all day there?” Esmée had snapped “If you want to, grab an apron and come here. We need more jambu to be ground so that fella over there can stop whining”

Kaelin had come still beside Nesta, fearing she had been insulted by the healers harsh words. But she simply grabbed an apron and rolled her dress’ sleeves.

“Which one is jambu?”

And from that day onwards Nesta began to help the healers in any way she could, going after her training with Kaelin in the morning and coming back in the late afternoon. Kaelin always walked her back, stopping at the tent after her training.

“It’s not safe for females to wander alone” the young girl had informed Nesta “Specially when it starts to get dark”

Nesta knew better than to dismiss Kaelin’s words. She knew what males were capable of doing to those they thought inferior to them.

“Charming as ever, don’t you agree?” Jacira said, appearing beside Nesta.

“Lovely” she mumbled back, the corners of her lips almost raising in a smile.

Jacira was one of the least shy healers around Nesta. She had beautiful dark green eyes, which contrasted with her dark raven hair and dark brown skin. She also had a very sharp and curious mind, and was teaching Nesta all she knew about what being a healer was like.

Nesta liked to think she had found another friend in Jacira.

“I see the General has come back”

“Really? I didn’t notice” Nesta replied, busying herself with her task.

“He had been gone longer than usual this time for the inspection” Jacira whispered “Word says it’s because some serious trouble has risen in other camps, specially Ironcrest”

Jacira was also a shameless gossiper. In the two weeks Nesta had started to work with her, she knew practically everything about anyone that lived in Windhaven. She said to herself that no harm would come to listen to Jacira’s blabbering. She was simply gathering information as to not stay in the dark.

It was not gossip. It was only intelligence material about the Illyrians in Windhaven.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Cassian had not spoken a word about it with her.

“I don’t know. I only know that the camp lords are whispering between them, and seem to be anxious about the Blood Rite.” she got closer to Nesta “In my opinion, they want it to arrive fast so any feuds can be resolved there”

For the Blood Rite was not only the chance for the Illyrians to prove their worth as a warrior, but a bloodbath. An event that allowed matters to be resolved without the laws of the war camps binding them.

“More work and less talk ladies” Esmée hissed at them “Those tonics won’t be done by themselves”

“Yes, m’am” Jacira replied, batting her eyelashes innocently, making Nesta snort. That girl had no fear of danger.

They kept to their work, Jacira talking when she thought Esmée was not looking, Nesta saying something now and then. The time she spent among the healers was precious to her. It brought a sense of normality back to her life. Even the wild beast inside her gave her a time out, seeming to purr whenever she dedicated herself to chopping herbs and making tonics or healing potions, the scent of all the ingredients calming her.

But the thought that something was amiss among the Illyrians bothered her. It was something that stayed on her mind all day.

Nesta was quieter than usual at dinner — she caught Cassian glancing worriedly at her when he thought she was not looking — the gears inside her head turning and going through every possible outcome.

She went to sleep still thinking about it, and came to a conclusion.

Something bad was coming.

And she would get Cassian to tell her whatever it was.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list}

#sarah j maas #sjmass #sjm fandom #sjm fanfic #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian x nesta #nessian

[root-admins]

SINoALICE x NieR Replicant - Weapon Stories

A complete compilation of all weapon stories from SINoALICE’s NieR Replicant collab... well, the ones that has lore to do with NieR anyways.

Whatever grammar mistakes/translation errors belongs to Pokelabo, and you will tell there are some. Most are stories are pretty self-explanatory tho.

Grimoire Weiss

We fought for what seemed like ages. To kill those things that took a twisted human form. To protect those precious to me, with my own hands. We were deceived for so long. Deceived by people in a land we've never been, whose faces we've never seen Issuing orders from a safe distance. We must have been in love. And despite the fact I couldn't save you, but I never got to thank you for saving me. These fragments glimmering deep in my depths... they seem to be the vague memories of people... the faded remnants of human wisdom... H-hold on! I’ll have you know my name is not “Booky Wooky!” You may call me "Grimoire Weiss" I am a great compendium of ancient wisdom. Treat me with respect!

Grimoire Noir

My name is the Black Book. Are you the king who will lead the world to salvation? Don't be so surprised, Your Majesty. For me, it is a simple matter to speak human words. I sympathize with your distress, Your Majesty. On this occasion, however, we have no choice but to let them deal with your sister. When sorrow overtakes you, you may come to me and speak of your tribulations. Reading is an admirable pursuit. Your Majesty--for me?? I shall peruse this volume if it comes on your recommendation... What is that? You think it odd for a book to read a book? Noir? I would prefer to dispense with this nickname. My name, Your Majesty, is the Black Book. I am a grand tome of human wisdom... thus, to refer to me by such a curious moniker is, dare I say, inappropriate.

Kaine’s Sword

She was slender, with smooth, white skin. The hint of a dark shadow in her expression highlighted her beautiful features. But something about the sword in her hand didn't seem to fit the picture. Anger, sorrow, hatred. When emotions overwhelmed her, she would swing the sword, so there was never a lack of blood to quench its thirst. The problem was that she couldn't put the sword down. A heart and body in constant conflict. No one in the world could understand her. And loneliness was eating her alive. The long war came to an end, and darkness devoured her. But her heart remained at peace. Because she faced fate in the arms of the one she loved.

Halua Head

File_25_10: Update Soon twins will be arriving. There is nothing at all in the white-walled, prison-like room except for a white bed. If only there were something to do in there... File_25_12: Update I went to look in on them, and the girl was kindly encouraging her anxious younger brother. The two of them had heavy expectations to fulfill. The weight of all humanity's hope bore down upon them. File_26_06: Update The day of the experiment, the girl passed me a letter. To the very end, she wanted someone to watch over her brother. Once I agreed, she quickly ran away. Report: Human Weapon Development Things seem to be progressing as expected with Experimental Subject A (Sister), but her condition has changed drastically. In her present state, she seems to have no sense of self. I am urgently beginning work on Experimental Subject B (Brother).

Devola & Popola’s Staff

－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Thanks for that soup recipe! My mom loved it!  －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ A note received from a child in the village. Does this mean they are developing a sense of self? －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Thanks to the medicine you gave me, I'm feeling a lot better, though I can't leave home yet. Just sending a note to say thanks. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ According to our records, humans wrote their feelings down on pieces of paper, and sent them to others. Where did they learn to do such a thing? －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, I like you a lot. Will you be my girlfriend? Waiting to hear back. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ I simply cannot understand the things they have written on these scraps of paper. I feel an unfamiliar feeling, my heart saying “no”… －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Dear Popola, Sorry I couldn't tell you in person, but I'm coming home late tonight. Go ahead and sleep if you're tired. －－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－ Ah, Devola. No need to worry about me this way. Tee-hee.

Favorite Pot

Yonah, I learned a special recipe! When you eat it, all your injuries will be gone! Oh! I want everyone to feed it to those they care about!

The ingredients are deer meat, sea turtle eggs, fresh veggies and herbs from the garden, and lastly tons of scorpion claws! Next, fill a pot up with all your ingredients, place the top on, and let it simmer overnight! The white steam rising from it is just so mesmerizing. ...Oh! I think it's ready! Smell for a soft scent when you take the lid off. That means it's done! I can't wait to give it to grandpa.

Transience

"Rule 0: You have the right to disband a rule by vote." I am the king's aide and second-in-command. Until now, all rules have be absolute, however, a "Voting Rite" was held where citizens could vote to change rules. Now, let's see what sort of ballots were made...

"Rule 451: Consuming alcohol is forbidden during the daytime." And stated as the reason is: because I like drinking... Because it's anonymous, all these votes are based off selfish desires. We need to improve the system somehow that reflects public opinion.

"Rule 356: Royal inquiries are limited once per day." And stated as the reason is: because I long to be with the King more...? Could this Fyra's vote...? No. Of course not. She's not the type to be interested in love. Moving on...

"Rule 68: The King's aides are to forever serve at his side" Reason being: Thank you for all your hard work. You deserve a break once in awhile... Could this be from the King himself? I'm honored to have stood by your side all these years. And the citizens of this country are proud of your work. There's no doubt of it.

Note: After rigorous deliberation, "Rule 451: Consuming alcohol is forbidden during the daytime", the most voted for rule, was repealed.

Grimoire Weiss ver.1.224

My name is Grimoire Weiss. I am an ancient tome of profound wisdom. After awakening from my long slumber, I traveled the world with my most beloved friends. She was a woman lacking respect for her elders. She'd continuously talk down to me, calling me nothing but paper and even set me aflame. However... Her rash words were also the driving force that moved us all. He was a compassionate and gentle boy who loved his friends. His manor of dress was odd, but his kind words warmed everyone's hearts. This I know to be true. I wonder if he, too had felt any relief from his sins. He was a cheeky guy, but not one you could just leave behind. We've been through a number of rough times together. I'd tell ya about it, but... I'm running out of time. If... If only I had an arm... Then I could have...hugged...him...

Grimoire Rubrum

It's the silk of fate. Knowing you, I shall begin living a life of truth. It's the forbidden fruit. Protecting you, I shall sink into wisdom's abyss. Those are the flames of anxiety. Thinking of you, I shall endure eternity's darkness. That is a reunion of bitter tears. Who are they? Why is it not me who's besides you?

Kaine’s Dual Blades ver.1.224

I craved it. Blind violence and blood-thirsty carnage. And I found it. I finally found it. A vessel stained with anger and hatred, seeking vengeance for the murder of her parents. I possessed that woman and gave her "power." That power turned the woman into a beast. One swing of her blade was enough to cut through stone and her grazes healed in an instant. She began downing every foe before her in the name of vengeance. I was delighted to witness the fruition of my desires. The woman's destruction didn't end there. After having her revenge, she continued to exert her "power" for the sake of her friends. Along her journey, her anger and hatred showed signs of waning, however, I gave it no thought. All I desired was to continue bathing in her bloodshed. Because her body has reached its limit, her power has lost control. Still, in the midst of the clashing of blades, I could feel her desire to protect her friends. Yes, this is the violence and carnage I crave. But why is it deplorable and empty?

Devola & Popola’s Spear

Upon hearing an old lady from the village caught a cold, I immediately collected my medicinal herbs with some boiled water, and rushed out from the library. I nursed her and remained by her side until her symptoms calmed down. She was extremely grateful for it.

I read a picture book to a group of children from the village. It was of an old tale about a brave, courageous man who triumphs over evil. I watched their expressions alternated between joy to sorrow to the story's pacing. I'm glad they enjoyed it.

Devola and I performed a song for the people at the village tavern. In addition to the regulars who drank there, elders and children were part of the audience. At the end of our song, the entire crowd smiled and cheered.

Every day Devola and I have been staying late at the library thinking of a plan to make life easier for the villagers. They're indispensable "vessels" for the project, so we need to do what we can for them.

Letter to the Postman

I was in a dimly lit cabin when I met a kind man. He taught me how to write a letter. What should I write on a blank piece of paper...? ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

Apparently, a letter should start off with the name of the person you want to give it to. Of course, I'd want it to be his. I hope he'll be able to read my sloppy handwriting... ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

At the end of the letter should be the name of the person who wrote it. Of course, that would be the name he gave me. Is it odd my chest feels warm writing it...? ―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans 　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Luiz ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

And in-between these two names, I'm supposed to write how I feel. And tell him what I want the most. I wonder if he'll be happy to receive this...?

―――――――――――――――――――――――――――― 　　Hans, Thank you　Thank you　Thank you Thank you　Thank you　Thank you　Thank you 　Thank you　Thank you. Luiz ――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

#nier #nier replicant #sinoalice

[marshmallow-phd]

Heart of Thorns

Genre: Beauty and the Beast!AU, Romace, Angst

Paring: Tao x Reader

Inspired by: These moodboards created by @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme (x) (x) and my absolute obsession with Beauty and the Beast

Summary: Lost in a forest during a storm, you find shelter in a crumbling castle that had been hidden away for years. The master of the house shut himself away, refusing to engage with the world. Too intrigued and running away from your own fears, you refuse to leave no matter how much he tells you to, wanting to try and find the heart within the beast.

Part One I Part Two I Part Three

**

The view of the country manor used to bring a smile to your face. In the past, you would take off in a run in order to meet it quicker. Its walls were like widespread arms waiting for you to enter its embrace. The garden outside had been your enchanted forest. The rabbits and deer that occasionally wandered in were your friends.

But the wonders of the home that had once been your shelter were no longer as welcoming as before. You wanted to turn back, to make your way through the thick trees, finding that blasted castle, and demanding answers from Zitao.

Why had he thrown you out? Why had he turned such a sweet moment bitter? You knew now that you could never give your heart to Gao. It had already been stolen by another. And even if you wanted it back, it wasn’t possible. You had left it behind in the forest to forever wander the halls in hope of the man in the mask coming for you.

But he wouldn’t be coming for you. As Mr. Chan brought the carriage to a stop down the road, you hopped down from your seat, careful to keep the hood of your cloak over your head. Mr. Chan stepped down as well. From the other side of the carriage, he pulled out two large bags and handed them to you. Odd. You didn’t remember having that much with you on your first trip.

“Take care, young miss.”

You were a bit shocked. You hadn’t heard Mr. Chan speak very much, especially directly to you. His tone implied a sense of protectiveness, a fatherly affection you wouldn’t have expected from him. There was still an awkwardness as he patted your shoulder and stepped back up into the carriage to ride away in the opposite direction that you would walk, but you were thankful for him, just as you were thankful for Mrs. Chan.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped tightly to the straps the bags, one in each hand, and headed for the house.

You heard Cosette yelling before you saw her.

“(Y/n) is back! She’s here! She’s back!”

By the time you reached the door, it swung open to reveal your entire family trying to squeeze through the limited space. Lu made it through first. He threw his arms around you, giving you the type of hug that you hadn’t received from since you were a child. The embraced caused you to drop the bags and return the affection with equal force. Your father came next as he squeezed between you and Lu to take your face in his hands.

“(Y/n). My (y/n). I thought I would never see you again.” His eyes were glossing over. You hadn’t seen him cry in years – since you were small – and your own heart was breaking for the pain you had put him through. While you were enjoying yourself with Zitao and avoiding the confrontation of your possible engagement, he was falling apart.

“I’m so sorry.” You sniffed back your own tears as you pressed your face into his chest. The hood of your cloak fell to your shoulders, exposing yourself to the cold.

You felt his chest heave with a sigh as he patted the back of your head. “Where did you go?”

“Yes!” Cosette screeched from the doorway. “Where did you go? Why did you run away and leave us to starve!”

You swallowed back a scoff as you stepped back. They would have hardly starved if you hadn’t come back. “I didn’t run away. The storm hit sooner than expected. The carriage fell into a ravine. I don’t know what happened to the driver. The horse wasn’t moving so I tried to get back here, but I passed out.”

“How did you survive?” Lu asked.

“I-” You bit down on your lower lip. For some reason, you were reluctant to share the truth. Would they even believe you? They rolled their eyes at the village stories as much as you had before. Being from the city, stories like that were considered beneath their intelligence. “I was found by an old woman who lives in a cottage in the forest. I was sick for a long time, but she nursed me back to health. It took several weeks before my strength came back.”

“And I’m so glad that you did,” your father smiled at you.

“As am I.”

Your eyes went wide as Gao stepped out of the home. He looked different from the last time you saw him. He stood tall, carrying around this aura of importance. His ivory jacket was lined with golden embroidery. His black hair was pulled back and tied with a matching ribbon. There was something about him that gave the impression he was always ready for his portrait to be painted. You had to stop yourself from taking a step away from him as he approached you, grabbed your hand, and placed a kiss on your fingers. The contact made your skin crawl. It was only pure will power that kept you from yanking your hand away and wiping the kiss away on your skirts. There wasn’t any logic beyond your response. Gao had never been unkind to you or anyone else in your presence. Perhaps it was merely the fact that he had wanted to trade helping your father for you being his wife.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Gao,” you whispered.

“Let’s get you inside and near a fire,” he replied with a smile.

“Yes, let's get you inside,” your father agreed. He was about to guide you inside when Gao placed his hand on the small of your back and led you inside instead. Lu picked up your bags and followed suit.

Gao sat you down on the couch and motioned for Claudette to add more wood to the fire. You weren’t that cold, but you didn’t protest. Lu disappeared upstairs with your bags before returning and taking a seat next to you. His eyes flickered in an unsure manner towards Gao. Your father took his usual spot in the armchair to your left, leaving the other side of you open for Gao. Cosette did not seem put out by the lack of propriety for her. In fact, she didn’t seem concerned with the conversation at all. She slowly walked around the room, getting closer to the stairs, but you hardly paid attention. Gao’s closeness was taking up your focus.

“Was the old woman kind to you?” Gao clasped a hand around your own. You quickly withdrew your fingers, hiding them in the folds of your skirt so he couldn’t try it again.

“Yes,” you nodded. “She was more than kind.” Mrs. Chan was motherly towards you. She made you laugh and feel comfortable. She also gave you the tools to open your heart to Zitao. She told you of his past. Because of her, you stopped seeing him as a terrifying figure in the shadows and began to discover the human hidden under the mask. You were sure she had a hand in his changed attitude towards you as well.

“You sound almost… sad to have left?” Lu said.

You blinked at your brother. “I-” You swallowed. “I know I will miss her. She’s my friend.”

“Of course, she would be.” Your father smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Gao cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to himself. “(y/n), I know you’ve been through a lot. However, I would like to form-”

“Look! Look at me!”

Cosette came running down the stairs, the force of her hurry causing her hair to flurry behind her. She was dressed in a silver gown with multiple layers, embroidered with green leaves that seemed to dance in the light. Jewels hung from her neck and wrists, sparkling on her fingers, and dangling from her ears. A small circlet sat on top of her head. Where did she get all of that?

As she came to a stop in the living, standing in the middle in the room so all could see her, she sneered in your direction. “Look! Now I can be as flighty and selfish as (y/n)! Her secret lover must be richer than Gao to give her all of this!”

You gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your bags were filled with more jewels and dresses like this!” Cosette held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Admit it. You didn’t get caught in the storm. And you certainly weren’t staying in a cottage, being looked after by an old woman. You went to see your lover! That’s what you were actually doing on all your walks, wasn’t it?”

Everyone was staring at you. Eyes were wide and mouths slightly agape. Your breath quickened. You thought it strange this morning that you were being sent away with two bags, but you were too upset over Zitao’s words to you and throwing you away to try to understand the possible reason. This only added to your confusion. Did Mrs. Chan pack those valuables to give you leverage against the marriage? Or did Zitao have it done since he felt sorry for you? You could feel the tears welling up behind your eyes as the confusion tore at your heart.

“I don’t have a lover,” you contended in a meek voice. You weren’t sure if any of them believed you, especially since you kept your eyes trained down on the floor. Streaks bounced off weakly off the wood in the sunlight. It wasn’t as reflective as when you left. Someone would have to clean it better.

“Then how do you explain the gifts?” Lu was frowning at you, but it was cast over with a look of concern and confusion. He wasn’t accusatory, simply wanting an explanation.

You shrugged. “I can’t.”

Gao stood up from the couch. Hands behind his back, he walked over to the window that overlooked the front garden and stared passed the glass. Perhaps you should have been feeling guilty, wondering what was going through Gao’s mind at the moment. But he was the least of your concern. It was your father’s judgement that worried you the most. Would he believe your half-truths?

Because you didn’t have a “lover”. You had someone who had stolen your heart and then shoved you away. You had fallen in love with Zitao. He had kissed you and made you feel warm but nothing beyond that. It had ended before it had truly begun.

No. You couldn’t accept the goodbye. Not in this way. You wouldn’t accept that he simply didn’t care for you. There were layers to him that you hadn’t reached. You refused to let go. Not yet.

“If (y/n) says that it wasn’t a lover then I believe her,” your father stated. You let out the air you had been holding in your lungs, the tension in your shoulders rolling away. “Perhaps this old woman is the heir of an old family who simply prefers to be away from others and felt pity for you. We can certainly sell some of the wares to keep our income.” His eyes flickered over to Gao’s back, which did not go unnoticed by your sister.

“Sell them?” Cosette scoffed. “And when that runs out, then what? We need you to get back on your feet, Father! Have you be respectable again!”

Knowing exactly what she was implying your father said, “It is still (y/n)’s choice. That has not changed.”

Without prompt, Gao turned swiftly away from the window. “I feel that this is a matter that should be discussed between the family. I’ll go back to the inn. Until tomorrow.” He bowed, hands still behind him, and left.

It was silence for a minute or two. You wanted someone to speak – anyone. Even Cosette’s screaming would be more tolerable than this pressing quiet. You would break it yourself if you had any idea on how to start. Thankfully, your father took charge of that task.

“Have you decided yet, (y/n)? Will you marry Gao?”

No. No, no, no, no.

“I haven’t decided,” you said as you shook your head.

Your father stood from his chair, grunting from the effort. “Well. Gao had said earlier today that he could only stay the remainder of the week. I wouldn’t be surprised if by that time he formally asks you for your hand. I hope you have an answer for him when he does.” He gave you a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m so happy for your return. My heart would have shattered if something had happened to you.”

You watched with your own broken heart as your father ascended the stairs. Cosette stuck her nose in the air and flitted up after him, possibly to go through the rest of your bags.

Lu scooted closer to you. His eyes were narrowed, but not in a suspicious way. He studied you the same way he would study his mathematics when he was still in school. “Are you sure everything is alright? Nothing happened to you in that cottage, did it?”

Your hands were trembling, but thankfully they were still hidden your skirt. You didn’t lie to your family like this. You had always tried to be open and honest, at least with your father and brother. But you couldn’t bring yourself to let out this secret. That castle in the woods was your burden to endure. Until you were able to figure out where each of you stood, that is. If Zitao truly didn’t care for you… then you would marry Gao. If you couldn’t have love, then you would help your family the best you could.

**

After a few days spent in the house, adjusting to being back in that space and making up the chores that had been neglected in your absence, you decided to take some time out of the house. Gao had been spending time with your brother and sticking close to you. If he felt that you were overworking yourself or doing work that was “below your station”, he would either call Claudette over or finish it himself. It was a gesture that made you smile out of thankfulness, but nothing more. At this moment, though, you wished his “chivalry” would come to a pause. He’d insisted on escorting you to town. The excuse was so he could eye what wares might be for sale in the market, but you had a feeling is to keep an eye on you, to make sure that you really weren’t sneaking off to see a mysterious lover.

Straw basket hanging from the crook of your elbow, you eyed the meat that was sitting out in front of the butcher’s shop. Mrs. Mooney was busy with another customer so you waited patiently to see if you could haggle with her on the price of a few slices that had caught your eye. Though you could have now paid full price for the items, you rather enjoyed the banter that came with the haggling.

Just Mrs. Mooney had finished up with the other customer, a group of young boys no older than nine came running through the streets.

“We saw him! We saw him!”

Mrs. Mooney put her fists on her hips as she eyed the boys. “What are you going on about?”

“The beast who lives in the woods!” one of the sandy haired boys exclaimed. “We saw him!”

“What on earth were you doing that far in the trees?”

“We didn’t mean to,” another pouted. “Our ball kept rolling and we couldn’t catch it! But we saw him! He was riding a giant black horse with a white spot on its head.”

You nearly choked on the air in your throat. That was Zeus. It had to be.

“He must be a vampire!” a different boy gasped. “Half of his face was stark white, and one hand was covered in scars.”

The first boy hit him over the head with his fist. “He can’t be a vampire, the sun’s out!”

“What is this talk of a vampire?” Gao chuckled as he joined the group.

“It’s not a vampire,” Mrs. Mooney said. “It’s the monstrous lord that lives in the forest, terrorizing anyone who gets too close.”

The grip you had on the basket tightened as you clenched on your back teeth. But you couldn’t say anything and possibly give yourself away.

“I haven’t heard of this lord,” Gao commented.

“He doesn’t exist,” you said in a strained voice.

“Yes, he does!” one of the boys argued. “My mum worked in the castle before he threw everyone out! She says his wife didn’t die because of the fire! She says he killed her! She saw the head wound herself!”

The head would? What was he talking about?

Then you remembered Mrs. Chan saying that there had been an argument the night of the fire. Zitao wouldn’t… sure he wasn’t capable of something like that. It had to have been an accident. Or maybe the boy’s mother was mistaken. Witnesses were always exaggerating what they’d seen.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Mrs. Mooney sniffed. “That boy did have a temper. I bet she found out that he was still sleeping with other girls, threatened to leave him, and he killed her.”

“What do you mean ‘still sleeping with other girls’?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

Mrs. Mooney sneered. “That boy was no prince charming. He chased skirts from here to the capital. It was a shock for us all when he came back engaged and in love. Perhaps it was all a show.”

You stepped back as if Mrs. Mooney’s story had grown a fist and swung at your stomach. Could that be true? Perhaps you were meanly another “skirt” to pass his time. He was probably bored, and you came falling into his lap like a shiny new toy.

Distracted, you left the stall and wandered down the street.

“(y/n)!” Gao ran after you, bringing you to a stop with his hand on your elbow. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No,” you lied. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just not a particular fan of Mrs. Mooney’s gossip. That’s all.”

He stared at you in a manner that let you know that he didn’t quite believe you, but he didn’t push. For another half hour or so, he continued to escort you around the market. You hardly paid attention to prices or the quality of the wares; your mind was far away, pondering on what was true and what had been a lie. Gao soon excused himself, saying that he had letters waiting for replies by at the inn. You were thankful when he left, giving you space to be alone.

Your feet knew where they were taking you before your mind was aware. The neighing of the horses caught your attention. If you were to rent one, you could be back before dark – if you found him, that is.

Mr. Seo, who owned the horses, was happy to watch your basket while you took the tan mare. You told him that you wanted to go riding for an hour or so, to feel the wind in your hair before it got too cold. You felt horrible for the story, but if anyone came looking for you, that seemed less suspicious.

You took the roundabout way to the woods, entering through the same space of trees Mr. Chan had brought you out of a few days before. You tried to think back to the path that Mr. Chan had taken to bring you home. The trees all looked the same. Most were bare of leaves, the branches looking like bony fingers pointing you along your way. In the distance, the sound thunder echoed. But there were no clouds in the sky. You followed the sound. The closer you reached, the more recognizable the sound became: horse hooves.

You urged the horse to go faster so the originator of the sound did not outrun you. Then, in the distance, you saw a black shape blurring past the trees. The forest broke. There was the castle.

Stopped in the field halfway between the forest line and the castle, Zitao sat atop Zeus, staring at you. When you were close enough, you brought your borrowed horse to a stop and slipped off the saddle.

“What are you doing here?” he growled down at you. His knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping the reins. The scars on his left hand stood out even more.

You breathed heavily, suddenly scared as you stood before him. “I have to know why you threw me out.”

“It was time for you to go.”

“That’s a lie. You wouldn’t have-” You stopped. The memory of that night, before the sweet turned sour, sang softly in your head.

But you didn’t need to finish. He knew what you were going to say. “You don’t know what I would and would not have done. I don’t need to explain myself to you. Now go back to your precious fiancé.”

“Did I mean so little to you? Will you really let me go?” You stared intensely, trying to read his features despite the mask giving him perfect cover. He stayed quiet for a moment or two. He kept your gaze steadily. For a make-believe second, you thought that he might ask you to stay. But your instinct was wrong.

“Why would I keep you here?”

He started to turn away. You ran around him to block his path.

“Did all those days really mean nothing to you?”

“Nothing means anything to me. All I want is to go back to my pathetic, peaceful existence in this castle. Alone. Go face your fate. Your family would be better off.” He urged his horse past you. As he galloped towards the stables, you willed for him to look back, to let you know that he didn’t mean the words he’d said.

He never even took a glance.

So, you did as you were told and mounted your horse, vowing never to think about this place again.

**

When you came back to the house, Gao was there as well. He was sitting at the table with your father and brother.

“I told you she’d be back,” Lu said he clapped Gao on the shoulder. He stood up and came over to you, taking the basket from your hands. “Did you have a nice ride?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“Good.” That was all he said as he took the basket into the kitchen. And didn’t come back.

Your father cleared his throat before rising from his chair.

Your pulse quickened as you were left alone with Gao. Without any inclination, you knew what was about to happen. The subtly of your family was nonexistent. Even leaving one by one wasn’t enough to cover up their expectations. A coat of cold sweat covered your palms. You wanted to run. You wanted to go to your sanctuary in the woods. But it was clear that you were no longer welcomed there. Should you do as Zitao said? Should you resign yourself to the fate that was in front of you? You had told yourself that you would if he didn’t want you. Now that you were faced with the choice, you found your resolution faltering.

Gao stood up, giving a quick clearing of the throat before taking the necessary steps towards you to close in the gap. His fingers, warm and soft from lack of hard labor, grasped your own. Any other woman would be swooning at the gesture, but you were already tainted with another’s touch.

If you had never gone through the forest, if the storm had never happened and you’d never gone to the castle, would things be different? Would you have come to love Gao? Or at least accept his love with mild interest? There was no telling of what might have been, only of what was in your heart now. The pieces left behind were marked with fingers that danced across ivory keys. They only saw one pair of dark brown eyes that couldn’t be eclipsed by the lighter shade looking at you now. But the owner of said eyes and fingers had thrown you away, had made it clear that you had not touched him in the same way. And then there were still the secrets of his past. Was he truly a murder?

No, you didn’t want to believe that.

“(y/n)?”

Slightly startled at how far away your mind had gotten, you returned your focus to the matter in front of you. “Yes?”

“I’m not sure if there is any hope in the question I want to ask.” Gao’s voice was soft, comforting, but there was something underneath it that made you question its sincerity. “We’ve known each other a long and I’ve always thought of you as someone special, someone to be cared for. If you would be so willing, I would like to be that person to take care of you.”

You stayed silent. Even now you weren’t sure as to which answer you were going to give. Would you stay firmly in one spot, hoping that he would come for you again? Or did you move forward, taking the necessary steps to go on?

“What I’m trying to ask,” Gao shifted his weight to allow himself to kneel before you, still gripping your fingers, “is if you would do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?”

Everything stopped. Nothing existed anymore. Not you, not Gao, not even language or time. If you could stay in that non-existence than maybe you could be moderately content. But you were a woman. A woman whose father had fallen into ruin, whose love had scorned her, and who’s family was falling apart. How you wished you could be selfish like Cosette. What a life that must be, to be able to one’s self first. But that was not who you were. In truth, was there really any another answer? Yes, you loved another, but love and marriage were not always intertwined.

You let out that single word quickly before you could think about it anymore. If given even a second longer, you would have changed your mind and ran away.

“Yes.”

**

You were going home.

Not your true home. The mansion with too many rooms and wonderful hiding spots had been sold off long ago. But you were going back to the city. It was the “proper place for Gao’s fiancé”. You must be reintroduced into society, your status now elevated.

It was hard to say goodbye. You would miss the space this home provided. You would miss the trees that outlined the town and the people who greeted you every time you went to market. The people here were friendlier than in the city. No longer would you go fetch the groceries yourself when Claudette was too busy to do so. You would be back to being waited on hand and foot. You didn’t want to go. But Gao had already sent out the invitations to the engagement party in a week’s time and all the important people of society would be there to watch him parade you around the ballroom rented for the occasion. His own home wasn’t big enough to hold such a party. Yet. Gao had already told you he planned on moving to a bigger house after the wedding.

Hood pulled over your head, you stepped towards the door of the carriage that was to transport you back to the city. Before Gao could help you up inside, you spotted a figure rushing down the dirt path. Your heart jumped in your chest.

Mrs. Chan.

Gathering your dress in your hands, you ran towards her, the hood falling from your head. As soon as she was within reach, you pulled her into your embrace. You hadn’t seen her since you left the castle. Tears trickled down your cheeks. As if nothing had changed, she tutted at you.

“Now, don’t be like that dear. You’ll swelled your beautiful eyes.” Mrs. Chan leaned back and wiped the tears away with her handkerchief. “There. That’s better. You didn’t think I would let you leave without saying goodbye, now did you?”

You couldn’t say either way. You hadn’t wanted to give yourself a chance to hope and then be heartbroken when it didn’t happen.

“I have to say, though, I am surprised at how things have turned out.”

“I didn’t want them to go this way,” you confessed. “I had hoped-” No. Best not to voice that out loud.

Mrs. Chan fixed the hood back onto your crown in her motherly way. “I know, dear, but the thing about hope, it never really dies or goes away. The smallest of embers can ignite it once again.”

You wanted to believe that. It was hard, though. Too much water had been poured on your fire. You pulled Mrs. Chan into another hug. “I’ll miss you.”

“Take care, dear. And don’t forget how strong you are.” She left you with one last pat on the cheek and then turned you around so you would go back to the carriage.

“Who was that?” Gao asked when you returned.

“A friend from the village,” you replied, your eyes on Mrs. Chan’s retreating back.

Gao simply nodded in reply before helping you into the carriage. It was stuffy inside with your family and Gao crowded amongst the seats. Your stomach flipped and churned with every bump. No storm was coming this time, so the driver took the main road, avoiding the forest. By sundown, you had made it the inn that was supposed to be your shelter on the last trip. Cosette filled the silence of your rented room with her talk of parties and what store she wanted to buy a new dress from as soon as you all arrived back in “civilization”. There was even a comment of having one of the dresses from your bags altered to fit with the modern fashion. You wanted to scream at her not to touch them, but the fight inside you was hard to find. Instead, you simply turned your back to her as you lied in the bed and blew out the candle to diminish the small amount of light she could see by.

The family settled into Gao’s two-story house with little difficulty. The servants fulfilled their wishes and took their orders. Most were familiar with your brother already, having been employed by Gao’s family for decades. You still tried to do things for yourself, like tending to the fire in whatever room you were occupying or collecting your laundry. The work was quickly snatched from your hands as soon as one of the servants saw what you were doing.

The head housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, was determined to mold you into the madam of the home. She would come to you with the preparations for dinner, for approval on new curtains for certain rooms, and for anything else she thought you should be informed of or have the final say on. Most of these things you saw as frivolous. She always approached you with the most uptight manners and wouldn’t leave until you made a firm decision.

You hated it here. How many times a day were you questioning your decision? How many different excuses had you come up with to break off the engagement? How many times had you considered running away?

The one thing that stopped you from following through on any of those ideas: your father. He was working again, already. His clientele was back, just as Gao had promised. You hadn’t seen your father smile like this in so long that you couldn’t bare to be the one who made it disappear again.

The day of the party arrived. All day you felt nauseous. Cosette flitted around your room, talking sweetly about the eligible bachelors who had been invited and how much missed dancing properly and not having to suffer through the less formal country dances. You sat perfectly still as one of the servant girls, Mei, pinned back your hair and colored your lips. You didn’t want to dance tonight. The dress you were to wear may have been a golden yellow – the color of happiness – but you felt more like a dark cloud in the night sky. You didn’t want to stand up in front of all those people and pretend to be happy. But you would do it. For your father.

Gao was beaming the entire ride to the ballroom. It was located near the center of the city, grand enough for the king and large enough to hold a hundred guests. You were thankful for the gloves that encased your hands as Gao escorted you inside. You didn’t want to feel his skin on yours.

Dozens upon dozens of people milled about the grand ballroom, drinks in hand as they laughed through shallow conversations. Some faces you recognized. Most you didn’t. Gao would stop at every other group or so and introduce you. None of the names stuck and the unknown faces were nothing more than blurs. When you finally reached the main center, Gao snatched two glasses of wine from a passing server, handing one to you before calling for the talking to cease.

“I would like to thank each and every one of you for coming out to celebrate my approaching marriage,” Gao said loudly as he held his glass high in the in air. The singularity was not missed. Did he forget that two people were involved in this engagement? You barely paid attention to his words, focusing on keeping the smile on your face. A tall figure moving in the back of the room caught your eye, but it disappeared before you could make out who it might be. “This has been a long time coming for me. Watching (y/n) grow into the beautiful young woman she is today was a privilege that I am honored to have been given. I know she will only grow more beautiful in our life together. To (y/n).”

“To (y/n)!” The room echoed. Glasses moved stem side up as the toast was declared finished and the band in the corner struck up a song.

Gao finished his drink as well before pulling you on to the dance floor, not even giving you chance to protest. He whirled you around the polished floor like a prized cow. You didn’t bother with the charade of a smile anymore. It was a relief when the first song faded to a close and Gao let you go. He said something about needing to conduct some business and walked away. You finally felt like you could breathe.

“One shouldn’t leave their fiancé alone on a night like this.”

You gasped as you whirled around. It can’t be. It wasn’t possible for him to be standing here, right now in front of you. But he was here, more elegantly dressed than of the other gentlemen with his blue velvet coat, his white mask shining in the candlelight. Without any explanation, he held his hand out to you. There was no hesitancy in taking it, even if you should have been more cautious.

He was here. Your mind kept repeating that over and over. He was here, he was here, he was here.

Zitao pulled you in close, his hand secured in the curvature of your waist. The other hand cradled your right as your left hand rested comfortably on his shoulder. With the grace of a ballet performer, he glided around the dance floor, making up for any misstep you might take. Now you wore a genuine smile. How could you not when he had come? But even in your joy, the obvious could not be overlooked.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered.

He did not wear the same smile as you. “I… I had to come see you.”

Your heart leapt at that answer. “Why?”

“You’re a hard person to forget.”

At that simple statement your throat closed in. Tears would have burst forth if you hadn’t fought to hold them back. Oh, how you wanted to wrap yourself up in his arms.

“You make no sense,” you said with a shake of your head. “You throw me out, yet send me home with lavish gifts. Then I’m told that you used to chase after women like a hunting dog after birds. Was I just another plaything to you? See if we could get the poor destitute girl before she has to go back to her miserable life?”

“No!” Zitao snapped. A quick glance around and then he lowered his voice, “I will admit that I wasn’t the most respectable person in the past. But I’m not person anymore. And you were never a game. You have always been more.”

You weren’t sure why, but you believed him.

“Why didn’t you come or me sooner?” you questioned. Sooner? Why didn’t he take you away that day in the forest?

“I thought you knew how stubborn I was already?” he said with a half-smile. It faded just as quickly as it had come. “I was content in being alone. I thought it was better for me. You can’t get hurt if you don’t let anyone in.”

“But you can’t live like that,” you urged. “Everyone gets hurt. Besides, you have let people in. Mrs. Chan cares about you like her own son.”

He sighed, the air contorting to a laugh near the end. “She said as much. But you must understand. The last time… the last time I felt this way, I was left broken, a monster—”

“You’re not a monster. This,” you bobbed the hand that he held up and down so he would know what you were referring to, “is nothing more than a scar. It doesn’t make you who you are.” But it did come with a past. “That night of the fire… did you kill her?”

Zitao’s Adam’s apple shuddered as he swallowed thickly. Fear was evident in his eyes.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I did.”

Your feet stopped moving. No. You didn’t want to believe it. He was just trying to push you away again. “Zitao—”

“And who exactly invited you.”

Unbeknownst to you, the music had stopped and all who were gathered in the ballroom were circled around you. Gao had cut through the crowd and now stood behind Zitao, his shoulders pushed back in an intimidating manner. He wouldn’t know that such a tactic wouldn’t work. Letting you go, Zitao turned on the balls of his feet, lacing his hands behind his back. He looked more like a powerful lord in this moment than you’d ever witnessed.

“No one in particular invited me,” Zitao said regally. “But as I’m the one who is going to steal away your fiancé, I thought an appearance was necessary.”

“You?” Gao sneered. “And who exactly do you think you are to attempt such a thing?”

“I am Lord Huang.”

“Lord Huang?” A pause. Then Gao laughed. “Ah. I’ve heard of you. From the dimwitted villagers who fear you. Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of vampire or hideous beast?”

“Countryside rumors are usually exaggerated.”

“Are you sure? Why else would you be wearing a mask like that if not to contain the beast?”

Zitao growled. “It is none of your business.”

“Come on, beast, show us what you’re hiding.”

You stepped around Zitao protectively. “Gao, stop it.”

“No, I don’t’ think I will,” Gao said mockingly. “This man is trying to ruin our party. The least he could do is give us some entertainment.”

“Gao, I said stop—"

Before you could finish, the mask covering Zitao’s scars was snatched off his head. Cosette had snuck up from behind and taken the chance to remove the mask. Zitao scrambled to cover his face. Gao laughed at the humiliation, showing you exactly who he was. Zitao ran from the room. Cosette enjoyed the moment, her eyes shining from the laughter she held inside. Taking the mask from her, you started after Zitao, but Gao caught you by your upper arm.

“Where are you going?”

You refused to answer. You stomped on his foot to make him let go and ran out the door. “Zitao! Zitao!” It was too late. He had already mounted his horse and was getting smaller as he raced down the cobbled road away from the ballroom.

“(y/n)!”

Your father and brother dashed out of the building. To no one’s surprise, Cosette was not to be seen. She was probably hiding, feigning shame from the scene you’d dare to cause in front of some poor sap who was falling for it. Lu stepped next to you, hand on your shoulder. “(y/n)?”

“I want to go home.”

Lu looked to your father, who simply nodded. You were led into their carriage and left the party. No questions were asked, for which you were thankful. You couldn’t do it. Even for your father. You loved Zitao. That wouldn’t change. Besides, after that display, you couldn’t be tied to a man like Gao.

Back at his home, you didn’t go to your room. That might have been the safest place to be, the one area Gao wouldn’t storm into because it belonged to him. No, instead you stayed bravely in the living room. You sat on the couch, hands resting in your lap, as you waited for Gao to return. It took almost an hour, but when he did finally come through the door, you knew that amount of time wasn’t enough to calm him down.

“How dare you humiliate me like that!”

“I didn’t humiliate you,” you said firmly. You looked him directly in the eye so he wouldn’t think that you were going to cower before him. “You did that to yourself.”

“You were carousing with another man!”

“I was dancing with him, nothing else. There was music and other couples. You had left me, so I danced with him.”

“It was him, wasn’t it?” You weren’t even surprised that Gao had put the pieces together. You would think him rather stupid if he hadn’t. Gao stalked towards you. “There was no old woman in a cottage, was there? Cosette was right when she said you had a lover. And here we all thought you were an innocent flower. You are no more than a weed in disguise.”

“And you are as beastly as you claimed Zitao to be!”

Infuriated by your words, Gao reached his hand back, palm flat, to strike. You closed your eyes to brace for the hit. It never came. Opening your eyes, you saw that Lu had intervened, catching Gao’s wrist before he could swing.

“You will not lay a hand on my sister,” Lu commanded through clenched teeth. He didn’t let go until Gao finally wretched his arm away.

“She is still my fiancé!”

“No, I am not.” You yanked the ring that had been drowning you like an anchor at sea off your finger and tossed it so it landed on the floor at Gao’s feet. It clanged and rattled as if angry at the abandonment. “You’re right. I do love him. And as long as he exists, I won’t ever marry you.”

“We will be out of your house by the end of the week,” your father stated from the hallway. You hadn’t realized that he was there. You hoped he hadn’t been witness to all that had transpired.

Gao marched out of the room, muttering under his breath. Lu gave you a look of pity before exiting on his own. Your father continued to stand there for another minute or two. Several times he opened his mouth, but each time he left the words inside. Eventually, he too left you alone.

You couldn’t stay here. You needed to get to Zitao.

You waited a few more hours until you were sure most of the inhabitants were asleep. Then, as quietly as you could, you changed into clothes more fit for a long journey and slipped out the front door. You were sure that Zitao would not stay in town. If he did, well he would just have to be surprised at your appearance at the castle. Mrs. Chan would let you in if need be. You paid for a horse and headed out. Towards your real home.

All night you rode, even when your eyes began to droop, you forced yourself to stay awake, slapping your cheek if needed. You had to put as much space between you and your family. Between you and Gao. When you came to the same small village as the inn that you stayed at, you didn’t stop too long to rest. It was already midday by that time. You switched out horses and ate a quick meal before starting again. You were too determined to be slowed down. It was dark once again when you reached the country manor. Close to midnight if you had to guess. Going into the forest at this time would be reckless. You needed to get to Zitao, but you didn’t want to die in the process. It could wait until morning. You still had a whole day on your family. You tied the horse up near a pile of hay outside then went through the back door that had been kept unlocked. The memory in your feet carried you up the stairs to your room. You didn’t even bother pulling back the sheets. As your head hit the dust-covered pillow you fell asleep.

When your eyes opened, it was still dark. Odd. You felt well rested – more than rested. Leaving the room, you went down the stairs to the living room, where a small clock still sat on the mantle of the fireplace. It read that it was eight o’clock. How?

No. Could you really have slept throughout the entire day? That was what you got for not resting during your trip.

Bang! Bang! Bang! “(Y/n)! (Y/n) are you in there!”

Mrs. Chan?

You rushed to the door to see the old woman looking terrified, her hair falling out in bits from underneath her bonnet.

“Oh, thank goodness!” She threw her arms around you before pulling back and grabbing your hand. “Come! You must come quickly!”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Pure fear ran cold through your veins. Was Zitao planning on hurting himself?

“Your fiancé arrived earlier today and started spouting nonsense around town. He started saying that Lord Huang had kidnapped you and that he would kill you like he killed his wife. I knew you weren’t at the castle so I hoped and prayed that you would be here. Your fiancé has convinced the villagers to go after Lord Huang. I’m afraid that they might kill him!”

“What?” What madness was this? Only one thing still gave you hope. “But they can’t find the castle, can they?”

“A few of the previous servants still know the way. Hurry, we don’t have much time!” Mrs. Chan scrambled into the open carriage. That would be too slow if you both rode in it. Hopping on to the other horse, you yelled at Mrs. Chan that you were going ahead. You knew the way now and you had to get to him as quickly as humanly possible. Branches and twigs pulled at your sleeves to slow you down as you galloped though the forest. You batted as many as you could away. Nothing could get in your way.

As the trees broke through to the field, you saw them. A mob of torches and pitch forks breaking through the front doors as they yelled in victory. You pushed the horse faster, up the stairs and through the doors. The villagers had surrounded Zitao in the front hall, shouting curses at him and calling him a murderer as others threw rocks at him as he sat on the ground, taking it.

“Leave him alone!”

Some of the villagers gasped in surprise. You jumped down from the horse and shoved them aside until you reached Zitao. You pushed his hair from his face. He didn’t seem badly injured. A drop of blood ran down his face, but it didn’t look dire. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he grunted as he tried to push away. “Get out of here. Before you get hurt.”

“No!” You sprang to your feet and stared the villagers all down. “You come in here, unprovoked, and call him a monster! The only monsters I see here are you for believing a man like that!” You point to Gao who showed no remorse for his actions.

“He kidnapped you!” a man from the circle yelled.

“No, he didn’t! I left the city of my own accord!”

“He killed his wife!” another argued.

“That is a lie!” The circle parted again as Mrs. Chan came into view. A fury burned in her eyes. “I was there that night. He didn’t kill her. If you have evidence against my word, then get the constable involved. But I will swear in court that he didn’t do it.”

No one could argue with a declaration like that. Murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. Glances were exchanged. Then mumble apologies as the villagers lost their fight. In groups of two or three, they began to head towards the door. Letting out a slight groan, Zitao tried to push himself up. You let him lean on you as he made it the rest of the way.

“Where are you going?” Gao shouted at the villagers’ backs. “He’s a monster! A beast! Just look at him! He’ll ruin your village! What about those he cast out? Left jobless through his cruelty? Are you all cowards?” No one even turned to look at him. Furious, Gao turned to the two of you. His eyes were full of hatred. “You will regret this.” He leveled his gun. Aimed at you.

“No!”

Zitao jumped in front of you right as the gun went off. He fell to the ground as he clung to his side. Blood seeped through his fingers. Gao ran off. The real coward.

“No, no, no. Please, no.” You dropped to your knees and forced Zitao’s hands away from the wound. There was so much blood that you couldn’t see how bad it was. Your hands were covered in seconds. Zitao was already beginning to sway back and forth from the loss. Mrs. Chan was by your side in an instant.

“We need to get him into bed so I can see to his wound.”

“Just let it go,” Zitao groaned. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

“Shut up!” you snapped at him. “Don’t talk like that. Now get up.”

Zitao stared at you for a beat before nodding and letting you get him to his feet. Mrs. Chan helped you get him up the stairs and to his room where he lied down on top of the blankets. He protested when Mrs. Chan cut away at his shirt, but a slap of her hand shut him right up.

“Bring me the pitcher,” Mrs. Chan ordered of you. Without thinking twice, you ran to the dresser and brought the pitcher to her. With a clean cloth in her hand, Mrs. Chan washed the wound to get a better look. She let out a sigh of relief. “It only grazed his side. He should be alright. As long as we get it closed and it doesn’t become infected.”

You weren’t sure if you could believe her. Zitao had drifted off, his eyes closed, completely still. Only his chest moving up and down as his lungs filled with air gave you hope. Mrs. Chan stood up and left the room. She came back with a needle and thread in her hand. She didn’t flinch as she pierced his side to stitch the wound closed. Zitao whimpered at the sharp pain. You moved to sit by his head and grabbed his hand. You kissed the back of his fingers in comfort. When Mrs. Chan was finished, she stood up and sighed.

“He’ll be alright. The wound is closed and wasn’t too severe. He’ll have a scar, but at this point….” She shrugged. With her hand crusted with dried blood, she brushed the hair off Zitao’s forehead. “The poor dear.” Then, she left.

Feeling brave and unwilling to leave him in case something else were to happen, you shifted so you were now laying down next to Zitao. He was more peaceful now; his face smooth, no longer revealing discomfort or pain. You rested your chin on his shoulder. With the tip of your finger, you traced the outline of his mask, down his nose to his chin. Then you sat up and let go of his hand to untie the mask. Zitao didn’t move as you pulled the covering from his face and set it down on the nightstand. You kissed his cheek before settling back down and falling asleep yourself.

**

You woke to a slight tickling sensation on your cheek. Letting your eyelids flutter open, you let out a slight laugh when you saw Zitao awake. He was smiling at you as well while caressing your skin. He hadn’t replaced the mask, letting you see the light, protruding scars on his cheek and forehead.

“Good morning,” he greeted softly.

“You’re alright.”

He nodded. A small tear fell down your cheek. With his thumb, he wiped it away.

Slowly, as if scared you might run away, he leaned in, his eyes drifting down to your lips. At first, the contact was so soft you thought that perhaps he hadn’t kissed you at all. But as the pressure grew, your eyes closed again, and you entangled your fingers in his hair. You were losing yourself in the kiss, happy that he was alive and that you were with him. But his confession at the party pushed itself to the forefront of your mind. You broke off the kiss. Sitting up, you turned away from him.

“What is it?” Zitao asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

You looked at him over your shoulder. “If I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly? Please?”

He reached out and grabbed your hand, bring it to his chest. “I swear.”

You turned to face him fully. As gently as you could, you placed your fingertips on his scar. He didn’t flinch back. “What happened that night? You said you killed her. But I don’t believe that.”

Zitao cringed as if in pain. He looked off to the side before coming back to you.

“I loved her. I swear I did. And I thought she loved me, too. But I was wrong.” He lowered the hand that held on to your fingers, keeping his focus there. “Soon after we were married, I found out that she had a lover, that she didn’t have any feelings for me. I told her I was going to put in a petition for divorce, that I was going to throw her out. That night, she slipped a sleeping potion into my wine at dinner, but I was too upset to drink it all. It didn’t matter. The servants who saw me thought I was drunk as I stumbled to our room. I woke up before she was expecting. Her lover was there, helping her start a fire. I’m sure they were thinking of killing me so she would inherit everything.”

He took a deep breath. You squeezed his hand to let him know that he hadn’t lost you.

“I fought with the man, trying to stop him from ruining my home. My wife tried to get between us, but… one of us – I don’t know who – shoved her away hard enough that she hit her head on the sharp edge of a dresser, falling to the ground. I called out her name. When I was distracted, the man hit me with something hard, knocking me out. I didn’t come to until the fire was put out. The fire had made it over to me. My left side was wrapped in bandages. The man was gone and my wife was dead.”

He didn’t kill her. You knew that in your heart. He didn’t maliciously set out for her to die. He was only protecting himself, his family’s legacy.

You threw your arms around him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I could have been the one who pushed her.”

Leaning back, you repeated, “It wasn’t your fault.” The memory of that final night came back to you. “Is that why you made me leave? Did you think you would hurt me?”

Zitao shook his head. “No. I was scared you might hurt me. When you whispered my name, I heard her again. I couldn’t go through that. I couldn’t risk being used like that again.” His eyes finally raised back up to meet yours. He caressed your cheek with his knuckles, the gesture absent of fear. “But you’re not her. It took me too long to realize that. (Y/n), can you forgive me for being so stupid?”

“Of course,” you said between your tears. “Of course, I can. I love you, Zitao.”

Happiness could not be enough to describe the elation shining from his smile. Encapsulating your face in his hands, he pulled you forward and captured your lips again. He kissed you deeply, wrapping his arms around you until you were pressed tightly against his chest. He ended it only to ask a single question.

“Will you marry me?”

You barely gave a nod before he resumed the kiss.

**

It was a beautiful day for an outdoor wedding day. The sky was a soft baby blue. A few puffs of white clouds floated through, but nothing gave you worry about rain. It wasn’t too hot or too cold and only a slight breeze interrupted the festivities every once in a while. The guests ran around the field, laughing and playing while you sat in a chair, a veil draped around your shoulders.

“You look beautiful.” Your father beamed with pride as he kissed the top of your head.

“Thank you.” Your face was aching from all the smiling, but you couldn’t stop. Happiness of this level couldn’t be contained or controlled. It needed to be shared.

Lu was standing a few feet away, talking to a baron who had been friends with Zitao’s father. Sitting in a chair with her signature fan in her hand, Cosette wore a snarl on her face. She was probably thinking about how hard it would be to outdo you in marrying a lord. Not that you cared. She would be taken care of, far away from here. Speaking of your husband, he came walking back up with a glass of wine in his hand after making the rounds of thanking guests.

“You will take care of her?” your father asked Zitao for the hundredth time. Your husband took it with stride, beaming in the sunlight.

“Of course,” he answered. “For the rest of my life.” Putting the drink down, he held a hand out to you, but kept his attention on your father. “May I steal her for a moment?”

“Yes, yes,” your father chuckled. “It’s your wedding day after all.”

Zitao tugged you to your feet and led you away from the festivities. He kept going until you were no longer insight of the others. The lone gazebo that sat near the lake on the grounds came closer. Within its walls, no one would be able to find you.

“Finally, I have you alone again.”

You laughed. “You will have me alone for a very long in the future. It’s rude to leave our guests in the middle of the reception.”

“I don’t care if it’s rude,” Zitao stated. You knew he really didn’t care. And ou couldn’t quite find it in yourself to care either. “Dance with me.”

“What?” You looked around but didn’t see a hidden band. “There’s no music.”

“Yes, there is. You are the music.”

You wanted to laugh at his sentimental statement. However, the way he said it melted your heart. So, you gave in, letting him pull you in and rock you back and forth across the wooden floor of the gazebo. He kept his eyes on you, never faltering for a second.

“I love you,” he said suddenly. He’d said it before but your heart still soared whenever you heard that phrase fall from his lips.

“I love you, too.” And you would make sure that he knew it, every day for the rest of your lives. He might not have had the fairy tale ending the first time around, but you were selfishly thankful. Because it gave way for you to meet him and heal his heart. And so, the two of you would live happily ever after.

#exo #exo beauty and the beast au #beauty and the beast!AU #tao x reader #zitao x reader #huang zitao #z.tao #tao #tao x fem!reader #exo x reader #exo x fem!reader #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo fairytale au #exo fairytale!au #kpop #cpop #mandopop #romance #angst #fairytale retelling #beauty and the beast #Heart of Thorns

[boushh2187]

The Festival - Rumbelle Secret Santa Gift

Title: The Festival

By: boushh2187

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Rumbelle :)

Rumbelle Secret Santa 2020 Gift for @peacehopeandrats​

Prompt: winter, fire, stroll in the snow

Word Count: 2220

Rated: PG

Author’s Note: @peacehopeandrats it was a pleasure being your santa! I hope you enjoy this little story. I really liked the prompt and tried going for something wintery and heartwarming. :)

Summary: A visit to a nearby winter festival continues the unusual relationship between the master of the castle and the caretaker.

“There you are!” Belle stood indoors at the top of one of the castle towers. The wind whipped through the open window where Rumplestiltskin stood. She had been looking for him for quite some time. It wasn’t terribly unusual for him to up and disappear occasionally, but overall he would let her know if he would be leaving the castle. Belle suspected that he knew she would get frustrated if she was alone in the castle and didn’t know it, especially if she expected to have a dinner companion. 

He stood by the window, and the wind blew at his frayed cloak and his hair. He looked quite human when he was silhouetted, and Belle knew that he must have been a man once. Even through his unusual sparkling, scaly skin, and odd eyes, one could see the man that was once behind the beast. He turned slightly so that she could see his profile more clearly and he nodded to acknowledge her presence.

She moved forward and stood next to him, trying to get a peek out the window. Something had caught his attention, and as usual, Belle was curious. “What has your attention at such an hour? Your dinner is going to get cold.”  He stood aside slightly, so that she could stand next to him and have a look out of the narrow window. She shivered and rubbed at her arms. Her peasant dress was not for this weather, at least not without a warm cloak.

Belle looked into the distance and she assumed she saw what had interested Rumplestiltskin. The nearby town was brightly lit, much more so than usual. There seemed to be much more activity. She could even make out more pillars of smoke when the moonlight shone through the clouds. She squinted her eyes and asked, “Is it… is it a winter festival?”

“Indeed.”

“Have you ever been? What am I saying, of course you must have gone. It’s so close…”

“It’s been many, many years since I’ve been to such a thing. I don’t have time, nor interest in festivals unless they serve to close a deal.”

“You’ve been to a winter festival in the past though?” 

“Of course. I am hundreds of years old, and my… and I knew someone who enjoyed these festivals very much.”

Once again, an allusion to his life before. Belle would get glimpses into his past, and even though she found his magic and his adventures interesting, she was even more curious about his life before… when he was an ordinary person.

“Come along now. You said our dinner was getting cold!” His cloak billowed behind him as he walked by. He took the stairs swiftly, and Belle followed with a final shiver from the cold. She found it worth noting that even with all of his magic, Rumplestiltskin rarely used it in the castle for mundane things such as traveling within the large estate. She supposed that’s why he needed or wanted a caretaker… well except for the obvious fact that he was lonely.

*****

Belle sat near the fireplace of the great room in the castle. It had gone out while she and Rumplestiltskin were finishing their meal. She set about arranging the logs and lighting the fire. It wasn’t a moment too soon as there was a chill in the air already. She watched as the kindling started to catch and the flame lifted upwards into a nice warm fire. She held her hands out to warm them. Perfect. 

Rumplestiltskin was nearby spinning, deep in thought as usual. This was around the time where she would bring out some tea and read for a while before it was time to turn in for the night. She walked up to Rumplestiltskin and watched him spin for a few moments. She enjoyed watching him spin. It was soothing somehow. “What is it, dearie?” His voice startled her out of her quiet reverie. He seemed to reproach himself immediately when he saw her reaction. 

Belle shook herself and replied, “Oh, I wanted to ask you what type of tea you would like this evening? The Greenleaf, perhaps?” 

“Fine.” He glanced at her briefly before continuing with his spinning. 

Belle watched the gold string fall softly into the basket below. Something was clearly on his mind. She smiled softly and set off to prepare their tea.

A short while later, she sat reading her latest discovery from the castle library, which was also her bedroom. She tried not to chuckle at that. If she was going to be stuck in this castle for the rest of her life, she couldn’t think of a better spot to call her own.

She closed the book with a satisfied sigh. The ending of this one was perfect, unlike the last one she read, which left her wanting to toss the book into the fire… not that she would ever really toss any book into a fire. Sometimes though, she wondered what the author was thinking with an ending like that! So many loose ends… but this one was wrapped up neatly and it was just perfect. 

“Enjoy the book?” Rumplestiltskin asked. He was standing quite close to her and she had been so wrapped up in the story that she hadn’t noticed.

“Oh yes.” She held the book out to him. “Would you like to read it?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled. “I’ve read every book in that library.”

Belle raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t considered that possibility.

“We need to get you some new books!”

Rumplestiltskin laughed softly. She enjoyed when he was so amiable.

“Perhaps you can do so tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?”

“How would you like to accompany me to the winter festival in town?”

Belle stood up. “Oh, I would love to! I haven’t been to one since I was a child! My mother used to take me and then the ogres began to act up and my father forbade us to go out of the castle walls without an armed guard. It just wouldn’t have been the same to visit with a group of soldiers following us around.”

“Then we shall go tomorrow. No need for an armed guard. I shall protect you from any foe,” he said it with a silly tone in his voice, but his expression betrayed him and she sensed that he was truly quite serious.

*****

They took the carriage late that afternoon. Belle convinced Rumplestiltskin to take the horses out for the evening and not rely on his magic to propel the carriage. In truth she did find the horseless carriage fascinating, but she also knew the horses needed a good work out and she loved helping get them ready. It was also something that the two of them could do together in companionable silence. She enjoyed moments like those. It was as if they were almost friends.

At the moment, they sat together in the carriage. He had draped a blanket over the two of them, as he had done on a few occasions where they had gone out. He still directed the horses using his magic, but at least the poor beasts weren’t idling in the castle all day. It was cold out, but the horses could handle it, especially since they were moving at a nice pace.

There was a light snow falling, just enough to look pretty. It would be nice to take a stroll in the snow at the winter festival. As they neared the village, Belle could make out the abundant candles lit throughout the village. She could smell the fresh bread and pastries that were being made in the kitchens too. 

Rumplestiltskin stopped the carriage just outside the village and helped her down. She shivered a bit as she stepped into the slightly snow covered ground. Perhaps this peasant dress and this floral patterned cloak that she wore weren’t enough to keep her warm outside of the carriage. She picked up the pace towards the village, and Rumplestiltskin followed. He was dressed more warmly than she was, in a heavy cloak and boots. “Hurry!” she called out to him. I think it would be nice to get some warm bread!”

They walked through the village pathways that were lined with cottages, smoke billowing through the chimneys. Both she and Rumplestiltskin had their hoods up, though Belle suspected that Rumplestiltskin did this so that he would not get any attention. She wondered if the villagers knew him at all? They stopped at the baker’s shop and Rumplestiltskin purchased a nice warm loaf of cinnamon bread. The village was now dark except for the moonlight that filtered in through the trees and rooftops, and of course the candles and crackling fire pits. They shared the warm bread as they browsed the shops selling trinkets, clothes, books, and supplies of all kinds. They purchased candles to celebrate the occasion and walked along the light crowds just like the regular townspeople were doing.

They went in and out of the shops. The snow had coated the ground and frosted up the windows. It was perfect timing for such a festival. Belle browsed the dresses in one of the shops and stopped to look at a red velvet dress that looked to be much warmer than what she was wearing now. Of course, it was something that was meant for a party, and not maid attire at all. 

“Go try it on,” Rumplestiltskin said from behind her. She jumped slightly. She had been so engrossed in running her fingers through the fabric that she had forgotten that he’d come in the shop along with her.

The shopkeeper was all too happy to usher her into a dressing room, and was chatting about coming in for fittings as Belle stepped into the room. The shopkeeper drew the curtains behind her, and she was alone there for a moment and about to hold up the dress to see how to loosen the fastenings, when it glowed and disappeared from her hands. She was suddenly wearing the very dress that she had held in her hands, and it fit perfectly. The garb that she wore from the castle was in a satchel at her feet. Rumplestiltskin, she muttered under her breath. How am I going to explain this? She couldn’t help but smile subtly as she stepped back into the shop. 

Rumplestiltskin stood there. His hood was down, and the shopkeeper looked taken aback. He held up a heavy, red velvet cloak with white fur trim. “To complete the look,” he said, and twirled his fingers for her to turn around. She turned her back towards him, trying to keep her small smile from turning into a full fledged silly grin. He placed the cloak on her shoulders and drew the clasps closed in front of her. “There,” he said. “Now your attire suits the occasion, and the weather.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Belle said as she turned to face him.

“Think nothing of it. I grew tired of seeing you dressed in the same old thing!” he threw a hand up in the air and stepped away from her. She watched as he emptied a bag of gold onto the shopkeeper’s counter. “Please, let my maid choose whatever else she likes. I will be waiting outside.” He glanced at Belle and smiled softly. Sometimes, he was something else, and certainly not the monster he appeared to be. She wished those moments were more frequent.

When she met him outside the shop a short while later she had something for him. She held out a package wrapped in brown paper and a red ribbon.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Just a little gift. You said that I could get anything else I liked in the shop. Well, I thought you could use this.”

The snow had stopped falling and they both had their hoods down. The cold air had turned Belle’s cheeks rosy. She could feel it. Rumplestiltskin placed their large candles down onto a nearby table, and opened the gift. As he unwrapped it, he looked surprised and touched that she had thought to give him something, even though he had brought up that very thing last night. His hands ran along the leather-bound book that Belle had chosen for him. It was a dark brown color and the title was stamped in gold foil. “The Unusual Affair”

“The shopkeeper said it’s brand new! The ink is barely dry, she said. I’m sure you haven’t read this one.”

Rumplestiltskin looked at her with a gentle expression. “I have not. Thank you, Belle.” He chuckled as he added, “I must say that it sounds rather scandalous.”

Belle laughed. “It does… And thank you for the new dress and cloak.” She looked down, suddenly feeling her cheeks grow warm. Hopefully, he would think it was just from the cold.

He reached down and took the satchel that held her everyday clothes. “Come along now. It’s getting late and I want to start reading my new book!” he exclaimed, as if she was holding him back. He held his arm out with a flourish for her to step ahead of him. She chuckled at his antics and took the candles from the table, lighting their way back to their carriage and their way home.

#rumbelle secret santa #peacehopeandrats #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle fanfic #my stuff #my fics #rss 2020

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

Destiny

Requested by anonymous:

‘Can I have a request where the Witcher is hurt and the reader finds him and she does healing magic and she is healing him and when he wakes up he adores her and cannot get her out of his mind and in a way he felt like destiny put him there to find her and decides to do everything possible to keep her with him’

Warnings: fluff, violence, swearing

Notes: FIRST WITCHER IMAGINE FOR GERALT MY BBY <3

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

“I think I figured out how we can slay it we just-”

“No need witch, I’ve hired someone else to do the job.”

“You - what?” *yn* exclaimed, her voice echoing through the large library. 

“Don’t look so surprised, you’ve had weeks to kill the bloody thing.” Zandah retorted back.

“Does the Mayor know? I don’t think he’d be too pleased to know his trusted advisor had gone behind his Mage’s back.” *yn* snarled as she stormed over to stand chest to chest with the man.

“No of course he doesn’t know, but this problem needs to be dealt with. The people are growing angry.”

“I told you I needed time, I don’t know what the creature is -” *yn* began, trying desperately to defend herself under the scornful eye of Zandah.

“Which is why I hired an expert in the field.” 

“An expert? What do-” *yn* cut herself off, her eyes widening in realisation. “A Witcher. You hired a Witcher.”

“Not just any Witcher. The white wolf, Geralt of Rivia.” Zandah explained as he moved past her to grab a book off the shelf causing *yn* to drop the numerous books in her arms onto the table. 

“Are you daft? The only thing the mayor hates more than Witchers are elves.” 

“Which is why I am going to tell him you killed the beast. That way we’re all happy, aren’t we?” Zandah explained as he stood up on a stool to reach for another book. “Sure you’ll live with the guilty conscious of taking someone’s credit and not being good enough at your job, but that’s a consequence I’m happy to live with.”

“And when is this Witcher coming to slay the beast?” *yn* huffed, forcing herself to ignore his scathing words.

“He’s already here and already figured it out what it was, he’s off to kill it now I believe.”

His words made her eyes narrow as she stared him down. Sensing her fierce gaze, Zandah turned on his heels to look down at her from his position on the stool. “Well? What are you still doing here? Don’t you have hymns to chant or something.”

Rolling her eyes she turned on her heel to exit the library. Not being able to help herself she flicked her fingers to the side as she moved towards the door. She smirked as the sound of the stool sweeping underneath Zandah’s feet followed by his shriek as he fell to the ground.

“I’ll get you for that witch!” He shrieked before the books off the bookshelf fell all around him with a satisfying thud.

“Sure you will.” She muttered under her breath, a satisfied grin etched on her face as she made her way outside and into the village square.

Once outside she began to make her way outside the square, towards her small cottage on the outskirts of the village. As she continued on the winding dirt path, she felt a sudden urge to come to a halt. 

The forest grew deathly silent around her once she came to a stand still. Turning her head, her eyes fell on the abandoned baker’s house a few hundred metres or so from her. The baker and his family had been the first of many victims. 

She didn't know what it was, but there was something inside her almost tugging her towards the small house. In all her decades of living, she’d never felt a pulling sensation this strong before. She may have abandoned the Brotherhood, but she still knew better to ignore a sign like that.

Giving her surroundings one last glance, she stepped off the path and began her way towards the house. As she grew closer she noticed a beautiful chestnut horse tied to a tree. A mare, she noted as she grew within a few feet of her.

“Hi girl.” She murmured, placing a gentle hand to the mare’s forehead. “Who’s left you out here all alone, hmm?” She continued, to which the horse whinnied gently and pushed her head against *yn*’s chest.

*yn* gave the mare one last pat before turning her attention back to the house. Inhaling sharply, she twisted the tarnished knob and opened the wooden door to step inside. From the outside it looked completely normal, but once you entered it was something out of a nightmare. Dried blood still painted the walls, floors and ceilings. The furniture was left abandoned and in complete disarray, adding to the evidence of the horror that had occurred inside the walls.

The vision of the family of five all piled in a heap in the living room with their entrails wrapped around their throats and their hands and feet completely severed, still burned freshly in her memory.

She was ready to hurriedly move past the living room, but the sound of a low moan made her freeze. She waited for a few moments in sickly silence to make sure she wasn’t hearing things when the same moan entered her ears.

Someone was here.

She edged towards the living room, curling her left hand into a fist in preparation to cast a spell, before peaking her head around the wall. The first sight that greeted her was a creature she had never seen before. It looked like a cross between a lion, a spider and an octopus. It was completely hideous and terrifying. A Svin, she realised.

It was also very much dead.

The next thing that caught her attention was a bundle of white hair peaking out beneath a layer of blood and guts. Another low moan.

She hurriedly stepped over the creature and kneeled down to reach the bundle of white hair, which upon closer inspection, she realised belonged to the very famous White Wolf - Geralt of Rivia. 

He was so caked in blood, she wasn’t sure what belonged to him and what belonged to the monster. What she did know was that he was injured and injured badly. 

“Fuck.”

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

The last thing Geralt remembered was lying on a hard wooden floor, the Svin he had just killed beside him, with a huge Svin sized claw mark embedded deeply into his chest. 

The first thing he sensed as he came too was that he was no longer lying on a wooden floor, instead he was lying on a comfortable mattress. He groaned as pain seared through his chest. His eyes opened but his vision was so blurry that he could barely make out his surroundings. He instinctively moved to touch his wound but was stopped by a grip on his arm.

“It’s ok, just breathe.” He heard a gentle voice say. “You need rest.” 

He blinked a couple of times as a figure appeared above him. He tried to speak but all that came out was a grunt of pain. “Don’t try to talk, everything’s going to be ok.” The voice reassured him. He breathed out deeply as he felt a wet cloth press against his chest and gently clean the area.

“It’s going to be ok.” The voice repeated as a soft hand reached up to gently caress his cheek. “I’m going to look after you.” Was the last thing he heard before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

*yn* smiled softly as she watched the White Wolf slip back into a peaceful slumber. She leant up and gently tucked a piece  matted hair behind his ear. She turned on her heel and grabbed her mortar and pestle to begin grinding up some more herbs for his injury.

A loud knock at the door made her jump slightly. Hurriedly she wiped her hands on her dress before making her way to the front door. She opened the door slightly and peaked through the gap to see a man with a mop of brown hair on his head anxiously pacing outside.

He looked harmless enough.

“Can I help you?” She asked him as she opened the door further. The man’s jaw dropped when his eyes fell on her. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous grin spreading across his lips.

“Oh yes hello! I’m looking for the Mage, she lives here apparently.”

“Yes, that’s me, I’m *yn*.” She smiled, sticking out her hand politely. “Oh wow, when they described you I was expecting someone... um...”

“Older?” *yn* suggested.

“I was going to say wrinkly and fat but sure, older works.” The man stated bluntly, causing *yn* to raise a brow. 

“Uh - sorry what I meant was - I’m Jaskier, song writer extraordinaire.” He introduced himself, grabbing her hand flamboyantly before pressing his lips to her skin.

 “I’m looking for a friend of mine, he’s about yay high, annoyingly muscly and looks like he wants to kill everything in sight.” Jaskier continued, pointing his hand well above his head to indicate his height.

“Wouldn’t be Geralt of Rivia by any chance?” *yn* asked.

“Yes! Yes! That’s the one, you see I’m sort of his best friend and I think he must be terribly worried without me.” Jaskier explained, causing a small chuckle to slip past her lips.

“He’s inside, he’s sleeping though. He needs time to rest so the potion can take full effect and heal him.” *yn* explained, cocking her head inside as she stepped aside to allow Jaskier in. 

“Oh thank god, Geralt.” He gasped as he wondered in to see Geralt asleep on her bed. “This is what happens when he doesn’t let me come, he’s just way to over protective, he let me sleep in so I wouldn’t get injured.” Jaskier scolded, crossing his arms as he sent the blissfully unaware Witcher a glare.

“I’m sure that’s it.” *yn* nodded, turning her back so Jaskier wouldn’t see the amused smile on her features. She had a feeling Jaskier was more of a hindrance than a help to the Witcher.

“He’s going to be ok, right?” Jaskier asked as he watched her grind up some herbs. 

“Yes. The cut was not too deep, this will clear out any toxins left in his bloodstream.” *yn* explained as she rubbed the ground up mixture into the wound, muttering a cantation under her breath as she did so.

“It’s weird seeing him so - un broody.” Jaskier commented which caused her to let out a laugh. “I’m serious, even when he’s sleeping he usually looks completely pissed off.” 

“You spend a lot of the time watching him sleep then?” *yn* smirked, looking over her shoulder to glance at the bard.

“Ok well-” He stuttered as a small blush crept up on his cheeks. “I am very much into woman but come on you have to admit it’s hard to not to stare.” Jaskier defended himself. 

*yn* laughed and glanced back down at Geralt, taking in his facial features, the bard did have a point - he looked like a damn God. 

“You have a point.” She agreed.

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

This time when Geralt came too, his vision was almost completely clear. He instinctively shot up, the pain in his chest dull compared to the burning sensation he had remembered. 

“Oh Geralt, thank heavens you’re alright.” The voice was not the sweet one he remembered, instead it was a very familiar one. 

“Jaskier?” He grunted as he moved to touch his chest. “Ah-ah-ah I wouldn’t do that. You’re not supposed to touch that... or be moving.” Jaskier spoke, hastily making his way into Geralt’s line of vision.

Had Geralt dreamt up that sweet voice and gentle touch?

He glanced around the small room, noting the numerous spell books and scrolls scattered around as he moved to heave himself off the bed. “You’re not supposed to get u- and you’re up anyway.” Jaskier sighed. 

“How did I get here?” Geralt asked. “Well-” Geralt turned to Jaskier once he detected the mischievous tone, to see an equally mischievous smirk on his lips.

“A very lovely Mage came to your rescue.” Jaskier grinned. Geralt grunted in response. “Her name’s *yn*.” 

"Where is she?” 

“See for yourself.” Jaskier spoke, still grinning mischievously as he pointed to the small window. Geralt followed Jaskier over to the window and peered out, squinting as the blinding sunlight hit him square in the eyes.

He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted. Once they did, he felt his heart warm at the sight before him. In the small pasture that was next to the house, stood Roach and the Mage that Jaskier called *yn*. 

She was patting Roach and saying something to her. He watched as *yn* took a few steps away from Roach before she turned on her heel and jogged away. Sure enough Roach followed after her, nudging her in the back before galloping off to the other end of the field.

“They’ve been playing tag for the last hour.” Jaskier mused, “figured I could work it into a song somehow, could add a bit of femininity to your brutish ballads.”

But Geralt was no longer listening. Instead he found himself mesmerised by the woman before him. Usually he detested the thought of any other living being touching Roach, but the sight of this made him want to smile.

He let out an involuntary groan as a sudden wave of pain shot through his chest. “Geralt? Geralt are you alright?” Jaskier asked, hurrying over to support Geralt as he doubled over.

“I’m fine.” He hissed, wincing as another wave of burning pain rippled through him. “Hang on, I’ll go get *yn*.” Jaskier announced, making sure Geralt was back on the bed before he sprinted outside. 

He could hear Jaskier’s voice in the distance, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. “What happened?”

The sweet voice.

“I’m not sure, he was fine and standing and then he just doubled over.”

Geralt looked up and instantly locked eyes with *yn*. Her face was flushed and her dress covered in dried blood, no doubt his, but that did not make her any less beautiful. 

Goddess-like, Geralt decided. 

*yn* felt her stomach do backflips as her eyes locked with Geralt’s. Seeing him lying down shirtless was one thing, but sitting up? *yn* had been on this earth for many many years, but fuck - was it possible for someone to be that attractive?

“Fuck.” The Witcher suddenly hissed as a stabbing sensation filled his chest. All thoughts, sexual and otherwise flew from her mind, now her focus was back on his pain.

“Well firstly, he was not supposed to be standing.” *yn* scolded as she put herself back in Mage mode and hurried over to her medicine table. “Lie down.” She instructed as she grabbed the herbs. 

“There must be some of the Svin’s poison still left in your blood system.” She explained as she pushed the herbs forcefully into the open wound and muttered a stronger cantation under her breath.

“Fucking hell.” Geralt cursed as the herbs sizzled under her spell, melting into his flesh. 

“Sorry.” She apologised, before moving to his face. Geralt felt his heart beat faster as she brought her face right down close to his, so close that if he moved upwards, their lips would meet.

“No green veins in your eyes. You’re definitely clear now.” She decided as her she peered intently into his amber ones. 

“Thank you.” The sound of his deep voice made her break out of her Mage mode and made her realise just how close the pair were. 

‘For godsake - you’re a powerful witch with decades of sexual experience - pull yourself together and channel your inner sexual deviant!’ She internally scolded herself. 

“Anytime, Geralt of Rivia.” She smirked as she pulled away from him. “Nice to meet you, by the way.” She continued as she moved to place the empty bowl back on the table. 

“Nice to meet you too, *yn* of....?” Geralt queried as he sat back up on the bed, surprised to realise that the intense pain he had felt only moments ago was now completely gone.

“Nowhere, I don’t remember where I was born, I just remember all the places I travelled to.” *yn* explained as she floated over to the other side of the room to grab clean bandages.

“Before Aretuza?” Jaskier piped up causing *yn* to glance over at him in surprise. “Yes before Aretuza.” She nodded. 

“*yn* of nowhere... now that’s a powerful song - you don’t mind if I use that do you?” Jaskier asked her eagerly. 

“No, go ahead.” *yn* answered, stifling a laugh as her and Geralt exchanged looks. 

“So, you’re in the brotherhood?” Geralt asked her as he watched her measure the bandages. 

“I was - I left that life a long time ago, I was sick of advising King’s who didn’t want to be advised.” 

“And now?” He queried as she began to delicately wrap his wound. 

“Now I do this. I travel from village to village, finding places that cannot afford a Mage and offer my services for free.” 

“That does not bore you?” He asked, immediately regretting the words as they slipped past his lips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No it’s ok.” She laughed quietly. “It does seem boring, but I’ve had three lifetimes full of excitement and adventure. I’ve been here for a few years now, the Mayor and all his subjects are very kind to me, well except his advisor.” She explained. 

“I’ve had my fill, I’m happy to just help people now. I’m sure that must sound quite pathetic to someone who hunts monsters for a living.” She sighed.

“It’s not pathetic, trust me.” Geralt comforted, placing a large hand on her shoulder. His actions made her cease her movements, glancing up from his wound to meet his eyes. She felt a blush creeping up on her cheeks as his fingers brushed against her skin. 

“I um-” She stuttered, breaking their contact as she pulled out of his hold. “You should be fine to travel now.” She murmured, glancing over at Jaskier sheepishly to see him staring wide eyed at the pair. 

“But... you’re more than welcome to stay the night if you need.” 

“Oh yes I think Geralt would absolutely love to-”

“No, we’ll be on our way.” Geralt cut Jaskier off, rising to his feet very suddenly, his face suddenly turning expressionless.  

“But Geralt-”

“Shut up Jaskier.” He hissed, gripping the bard by the shoulders and firmly guiding him to the front door. 

“Wait!” *yn* called, just as the two had opened the door. “Take this with you.” She said as she grabbed a small poultice off the table. 

“Apply it to the wound twice a day for a week, to ensure it heals nicely.” She explained, placing it into Geralt’s hand. Studying his vacant expression for a few moments, she leant up and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Safe travels Geralt of Rivia, and you too Jaskier.” She smiled, caressing Jaskier’s face briefly before dropping her hand to her side.

“Thank you, *yn* of nowhere.” Geralt spoke, and *yn* swore she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips before he disappeared through the door.

And just like a tornado, the pair had come and gone. 

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

“Ok I think I’ve finally perfected *yn* of nowhere version three hundred and one, do you want to hear it?”

“For the last time, I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Geralt snarled, warming his hands over the small fire. 

“Oh for fucks sake, you know what Geralt? I’ve just about had it with you.” Jaskier huffed, during his guitar to the side and rising to his feet.  “Why don’t you just admit the reason you’ve been a grumpy sack of shit for the past two days is because you got scared that you felt something real with *yn* and ran away like a little wolf pup instead of giving it a go.” He continued as he moved to grab a loaf of bread from his bag.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Geralt snapped back.

“Ok let’s not play that game Geralt. I saw that connection with my own two damn eyes. It’s like something out of one of my most popular love songs, like destiny.” 

“Fuck don’t you start with that whole destiny bullshit.” Geralt muttered. 

“No Geralt, don’t you start with that whole ‘destiny is bullshit’ thing, I know you believe it.”

Jaskier was right. Geralt did believe in destiny, whether he wanted to believe it or not. And there was something inside him, desperately trying to claw it’s way out that was trying to get him to go back. It was like he was being tugged back in the direction of the small village.

Back to her.

But Jaskier was right about more than that. It was true, the overwhelming feeling of adoration and fascination he had felt for *yn* had scared him. And the White Wolf was supposed to be scared of nothing. 

“Geralt... hello? Can you hear me?” Jaskier’s voice cut through his worries like a knife through butter.

“It would never work.” Geralt heard himself admit. 

“and why not?” Jaskier exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“You heard what she said, she’s had her fill of adventure and chaos, and that’s all my life is.” 

“Pfft.” Jaskier scoffed as he made his way back to sit beside him. “I saw the way she looked at you, if you’re trying to tell me that if you went back their right now and asked her to come with you that she would say no, then you’re out of your - ow!”

Geralt looked away from the fire to see that in Jaskier’s passionate flailing of his arms, he’d managed to cut the palm of his left hand. 

“Well that’s just great, the first scar I get happens to be from a bloody kitchen knife, can you pass the - why are you looking at me like that?” Jaskier cut himself once he noticed Geralt staring intently at his wound.

“I have an idea.” Geralt announced, a bemused smirk appearing on his lips.

“Oh no.” 

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

“Toss a coin to your Witcher, oh valley of plenty oh valley of plenty.” *yn* hummed to herself as she cleaned her medical tools. Ever since Jaskier and Geralt had left a couple of days ago, the song had been playing on repeat in her head. 

Sure, it was a catchy song but all it did was remind her of Geralt and she was thinking of him enough as it was. 

Surely she was not the only one out of the two that felt the connection? It was far too intense to be one sided. Right?

A knock at the door made her snap out of her deep thoughts. “Coming!” She called as she made her way to the front door.

“Geralt.” The name slipped out automatically as she stared wide eyed at the mountain of a man in front of her.

“Sorry to intrude, I think Jaskier needs your help and you were the closest village.” It was only when Geralt mentioned him that *yn* realised he was holding an unconscious Jaskier by the collar. 

“You’re not intruding, bring him and put him on the bed.” *yn* instructed, stepping aside so he could haul Jaskier inside.

“What happened?” She asked him as she hurried over to Jaskier’s side. 

“I’m not sure.” She heard him answer as she began to examine Jaskier.  

“How did he get this cut on his hand?” She asked him, noticing the small bloodied slit on his palm. *yn* glanced over her shoulder when her answer was met by silence to see Geralt dancing on the balls of his feet nervously.

“Geralt?”

“.... himself.” He admitted quietly.

“Himself?” She repeated, raising a brow once she was met with a nod. “And he’s unconscious because...?” 

A shrug.

“Alright, well I can dress his cut.” She answered, turning from him to hide her grin. Had Geralt really travelled all this way just so she could look at a small cut? 

The room fell into silence as she carefully wrapped Jaskier’s limp hand. “While you’re here I should look at your wound.” She stated, turning to Geralt who had now taken a seat on the table. 

He nodded and pulled his shirt over his head and *yn* was pleased to see that her dressings were still in place. She felt her heart rate increase as Geralt opened his legs for her to stand in-between them. She could practically feel the heat radiating from his body as she slotted in between his thighs. The pair fell back into silence as she began to work methodically on unwrapping the bandages. 

“Can I ask you something?” Geralt spoke up once she had begun to clean the wound with a wet cloth.

“Of course.” She murmured.

“How did you find me? Back at that baker’s house?” His words made her cease her movements briefly, glancing up at him to meet his eyes before looking back down at his wound. “I-I don’t know, I just felt like I had to go there. Like something was...”

“Pulling you?” He suggested. 

“Yes, pulling me.” She agreed quietly, avoiding his intense gaze as she manoeuvred around him to grab some fresh bandages. Her fingers brushed against his tanned skin and she felt his muscles shiver under her touch. She felt a sudden surge of confidence ripple through her and before she could question it, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Can I ask you a question, Geralt of Rivia?” She spoke, shooting him a small smile.

“Of course.” 

“Did you really come back here just for me to look after Jaskier?” *yn* asked as she finished tying the cloth around his chest.

“I think you know the answer.” His deep voice made her eyes flicker up to his amber ones, that seemed to be glowing even brighter than usual. 

“It would be nice to hear you say it though.” She murmured, taking a step closer to him so their lips were only a few centimetres apart. The energy in the room was so palpable, *yn* felt that her knees might buckle underneath her.

“I came back for you.” 

The second the words were uttered, *yn* leant forward and captured his lips in a kiss. The pair moulded together, as if they were always meant to be one entity, Geralt wrapping his arms around her frame to pull him closer to her. As the pair pulled away, *yn* swore she could feel her entire essence literally buzzing. 

A small smile appeared on his lips as he placed one hand on her lower back and another up to cradle her face. “Do you believe in destiny?” He asked quietly.

“I do.” She replied, swallowing nervously as he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. “And I think I was meant to find you lying half dead and covered in Svin guts.” Her words made a deep chuckle emit from the back of Geralt’s throat. 

“I know you said you were done with a life of adventure, but I think I could really do with a Mage, and a better travelling companion.” He added, cocking his head to a still passed out Jaskier causing her to giggle. 

She smiled and hastily pressed another kiss to his lips, “I’m in.” 

A loud groan caused both her and Geralt to swivel around to see Jaskier coming too, gripping his head as he sat up in the bed.

“Fucking hell, please tell me you two are together and Geralt didn’t knock me out for no reason.” 

“Don’t worry Jaskier, it was for a good reason, a very good one.”

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

As always, positive feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

#geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #reader x geralt #the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher oneshot #the witcher imagines #the witcher x reader #reader x the witcher #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia imagine

[bonbon-chan]

Violets of Spring

Pairing: TobiSaku

Rated: T

Summary: All he wanted to do was bring her flowers

Read on AO3

Spring in Konoha was the loveliest time of year. The flora bloomed, spreading delicate perfume via the gentle breeze. Leaves brushed against each other, creating the melody of the first equinox of the year. The sun shone onto the budding life, not yet heating as much as it would in the summer.

Uchiha Sumire gazed out onto her vast garden that surrounded her estate, basking in the contentment it brought her. Though she had at first disliked retiring from being a kunoichi, she knew her bones appreciated the reprieve.

There was an adjustment period after growing up during a seemingly endless war. The only thoughts in the Uchiha encampment for as long as she remembered was, “How do we defeat the Senju today battle?” But when she was nearing middle age, her leader Madara and Senju Hashirama established a peace treaty and founded Konoha. Many were disgruntled, but Sumire was mainly upset about the end of her shinobi career.

Since there was no longer the need for as many combatants, the older ninja were gently nudged to retire and shift their focus on building a future to pass on the will of fire. Sumire never cared much for the mumbo-jumbo, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that she enjoyed gardening. She helped cultivate the crops that the village used for fresh vegetables. Her contribution was crucial to the village in its infancy as agreements had not yet set up with merchants for necessary produce. The kunoichi had even started helping healers improve the yield for herbs.

As the village developed, Sumire found a meaningful venture that kept her busy and fulfilled her desire to make an impact on her community.

Sumire was enjoying her quiet Sunday morning sipping her magnolia tea when she heard it. Her eyes cut to the clock mounted on the kitchen wall. Nine in the morning, it read.

Like clockwork, she thought with an annoyed exhale.

The rustling in her garden and a head of white hair poking up from behind the hedges had become commonplace in Sumire’s garden. Every Sunday morning, a man would come and steal violets from her flower patch. The retired Uchiha let go of the first few passes. She then became curious at the pattern and how the stranger only went for the violets when there were prettier flowers around.

Now she was annoyed. Couldn’t he find flowers somewhere else? Her eyebrow twitched.

Gently setting her teacup on the table, Sumire rose from her seat and made her way towards the man.

At her unexpected movement, the man stiffened, and she saw red eyes—non-Uchiha red eyes—peer over the hedge before she even made it off her porch. She mused at how he reacted before she even made a sound. She didn’t think she was so out of practice that another shinobi heard her from such a distance. Her bones didn’t creek that loudly.

As she approached, the man did not back down or make to turn away to flee from being caught red-handed. She held back a snort. This’ll be good.

Though, Sumire was in for a surprise herself when she turned the corner of the hedge and was faced with the tall white-haired man with vermillion tattoos streaked across his cheeks and down his chin to match his eyes. She almost didn’t recognize the Hokage's brother dressed in plain black civilian clothing rather than the blue battle armor he was known for. His faceplate was also absent. Bundled in his hand were violets.

With a stiff spine, Sumire looked up at Senju Tobirama and barked, “Well, where’s the girl?”

That broke Tobirama’s blank expression, “Excuse me?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“The girl,” she placed her fists on her hips, “Clearly, there is a woman you are trying to woo if you keep coming here every week to uproot my flowers.”

With a clenched jaw, the Senju’s eyes broke away and fixed itself at a point over Sumire’s shoulder but remained silent.

Two can play at this game. She crossed her arm and started tapping her foot.

Tobirama, realizing this woman wasn’t going away anytime soon, unclenched his jaw and worked the tense muscle before meeting her gaze again, and bowing, “I apologize, obaa-san, this is the only place around I can find violets.”

Sumire’s foot slowly halted. She was shocked that the man knew which flower he was collecting, let alone the fact that he had searched for it elsewhere.

“Show me the girl,” she demanded.

Tobirama’s brow furrowed.

“If there is a woman so wonderful that you hunt violets down for her, I would like to meet her. Especially since it’s my garden, you are taking the liberty to use as the source,” she sniffed.

He opened his mouth to make a retort, but stunned Sumire yet again, by closing his mouth, turning away, and muttering, “Very well,” before starting his march.

//

The two traversed the evolving village, crossing the Naka River, skirting the market, and winding through streets approaching the village outskirts.

Along the journey, Sumire stole glances at the man beside her. She knew him to be the pragmatic right hand to the Senju clan head. Ruthless in battle and just as imposing outside the battlefield. And here he was matching pace with her, minding her advanced age. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. She never thought she would see the day where she—an Uchiha—meandered so calmly with a Senju through a village where both clans knew peace. Yet here they were.

Something that bothered her was his expression. Maybe it was the fact that she forced him to take her along, but the Uchiha thought that for a man about to meet the love of his life for a date, he would be more cheerful.

She was about to make a comment when Tobirama’s steps slowed at the last bend.

The pair stood before the gates to the Konoha Cemetery.

Sumire was a hardened kunoichi that had known war most of her life. She had never been nervous before engaging in battle because she knew whatever the outcome, she had given it her all. So, the creeping unease that settled in the pit of her stomach, worsening at every step that brought them closer to the memorial, felt uncomfortable and unwelcome. She did not have many regrets in her life, but her demanding to make this trip quickly climbed to the top of that list.

With a rigid spine and shoulders back, Tobirama continued, intent on completing his journey.

They arrived at their destination.

The grave simply read ‘Haruno Sakura.’

Like the rest of the cemetery, the space around the stone was tidy, but there were several dried purple petals gnarled in the grass at the base—proof of his repeated visits.

Tobirama’s fist tightened on the bundle of fresh violets before he exhaled the breath he had been holding in and bent down to gently set the makeshift bouquet before the tombstone.

Crimson eyes burning more fiercely than any sharingan, Tobirama righted himself and started, “Sakura was--” he faltered before taking a shuddering breath and continuing, “Sakura was my partner. In every sense of the word. In battle, I could always rely on her to watch my back. She rivaled me in tactics and strategy. And She—she cared for me. She let me be someone other than Senju Tobirama, right hand of the Hokage; I was just Tobi. Sakura is the reason my brothers Itama and Kawarama are alive today, and why the casualties of war were limited. She was able to crush someone’s arm and mend the fractured bone, all within a minute. She was always one to put others before herself. Until the bitter end,” his voice was wet, and the anguish rang clearly throughout the graveyard, only rustling leaves, and Sumire’s shattering heart accompanied his harrowing narrative. “She died protecting and envoy of villagers from a shinobi that lost control of a tailed-beast after an attempt to become the biju’s vessel. Her sacrifice wasn’t in vain. Everyone else survived the attack.”

Sumire remained silent, allowing the Senju to voice his sentiments. After several minutes, he resumed.

“She always liked violets. She explained the hanakotoba meaning to me, ‘a small love,’ ‘sincerity,’ and ‘small bliss.’ I thought I was able to make sense of it, but then she told me why it meant so much to her. During the war, we didn’t have much time to ourselves, but the moments where we were able to simply enjoy each other’s company in the nearby meadow were enough for us. She would call it moments of small bliss.”

“She sounds like she was a marvelous kunoichi,” Sumire finally broke her silence, “I will allow you free range of any flowers in my garden, if you allow me to visit Sakura-san as well, separately of course,” the retired Uchiha did not want to impose on Tobirama’s time with his beloved.

“I think she would like that. If your attitude is anything to go by, I think you both would’ve gotten along perfectly,” he jested, eyes clearing, crimson cooling to vermillion.

“Oi, mind your tongue, brat. I don’t care who you are; you still need to respect your elders,” she crossed her arms, tucked them into her kimono sleeves.

He turned to look at her, “Of course, obaa-san. And thank you,” he bowed, drawing her attention, “It was nice to share of piece of Sakura today.”

She bowed in return, “Thank you for sharing. And, uh, apologies for being demanding earlier, it wasn’t my place.”

“I shouldn’t have raided your garden,” he replied, lips upturned.

“Come on, kid. I’ll make us some tea.”

On this spring day, bumblebees worked to pollinate plants, birds chirped their harmonies of content, and purple petals rustled in the breeze.

A/N: From a few Google searches, I found out that Sumire is 'violet' in Japanese and in hanakotoba--the Japanese language of flowers--violets represent the meanings I listed in this fic. So Tobi borrowing violets from the garden of a woman named violet just worked for me hahaI hope you enjoyed the fic. Please let me know what you think <3

#tobisaku #angst #major character death #flowers with meanings #senju tobirama #original character #haruno sakura (mentiond) #my fic #fanfic #naruto

[lisinfleur]

Beast

Author’s Notes | This was something interesting to be done. I tried to take some inspiration not only from the Disney story but also from the original story of The Beauty and the Beast. I really hope this is good for you guys, cause I have to be honest, I’m proud of the final result! Universe | Vikings, Disney Crossover Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, produced for @tephi101’s Dark Disney And Other Fairy Tales Writing Challenge Words | 6244 ⁑ Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood and fire.

Some would say he was Jormüngandr himself, made flesh to wait for the upcoming Ragnarök among the men. Some would avoid even mentioning his name, afraid he was really the god many thought he was and the mention would bring him in flesh and bones into their presence.

More flesh than bones, indeed...

Ivar the Boneless was many times called "the Beast" in the circles your family used to be.

A ruthless Viking, hard commander, with iron fists that would admit no questions to his ways and orders; many were the histories you've heard about the heartless (or soulless, depending on who was narrating the story) man that was conquering every single piece of Christian land around your village.

It was a matter of time until his men arrived in your lands and that was the reason why your father was away for too long: he had left you among your sisters to try and find a new place for the four of you to live.

Your mother had died trying to give birth to a boy that, unfortunately, didn't survive, leaving your father with their three daughters to raise all by himself. As a merchant, your father gave you and your sisters a good life, however, it didn't last long. Because of Ivar and his attacks, your father's products failed in reaching their destination several times and it ended up breaking your father's business, forcing him to reduce the luxury your sisters were so mad about and now, forcing your family out of your house in seek of a safer place.

There was a pair of months since your father left and you were starting to feel worried. He left instructions pretty clear to be accomplished if he wasn't back home in two months and a week and now the time was about to be over and you were dealing not only with the imminence of having to start over without your father but also with your sisters' tantrums about leaving without him. Both of them were now engaged to men as useless as they were rich and despite knowing they wouldn't be men enough to protect your sisters in case of an attack (you could bet your younger soon-to-be brother-in-law would dress in your sister's clothes and flee screaming like a lady just to ensure he wouldn't have to fight the Vikings), they didn't want to abandon the luxurious lives their husbands were promising them, ignoring all your warnings about the forthcoming time to leave.

But the truth was that not even you wanted to put those plans of your father in practice. You wanted him to come through that door and say everything was alright so when someone knocked on your door, the last thing you expected was to see one of those Norsemen looking at you from the top of his tall height, with a crow landing in his shoulder and a fierce glare looking at you.

They have arrived earlier? Was your town being invaded?

Why the horns weren't sounding?

"Y/F/N Y/L/N's house?" the man mumbled with a hoarse voice and a strong accent, stepping into your door without being invited as, shivering, you just stepped back.

"D... Do you know my father?" you dared to ask as that strange man was looking around.

"He told us it was three. Three daughters, he said," the man grunted, causing you to freeze.

Your father spoke to him about you and your sisters?

"Where the others?" he asked, looking at you.

"Where is my father? And who are you?" you asked, walking back until your butt touched the table where you started discretely groping after your letter opener.

However, the man wasn't as distracted as you saw nor he was patient to wait for an answer to his questions.

"Fuck it... You serve," he growled, advancing towards you before your fingers could touch the letter opener, lifting you over his shoulder and walking out, away from your house, ignoring completely as you were punching his back with all your strength.

"Lemme go! Put me down, you brute! NO!" you yelled.

But all he did was to throw you over the horse and mount it, riding away from your house fast enough for you to think jumping out of that horse would be suicide.

With no other choice and tears streaming down your face, you tried to focus on the idea that, at least, you would know what happened to your father. Scared, you started whining a low prayer, begging God for a better fate than your father had.

  It was a long - and silent - way until your eyes landed in a huge camp. Dozens of dozens of tents were placed everywhere around fire pits and men like that one carrying you were walking freely around, causing your spine to freeze: the Norsemen were there... It was far from your house, but you knew a good army could cover that distance in a day or two, maximum. Your village would be no more in a few days.

You felt your heart clenching when the man entered the camp more and more until he was near the biggest tent of all. You then understood what was about to happen... Outside of that tent, a chariot made of red leather you've heard some people believed were human leather. It didn't look like human skin, but you had to admit it was pretty intimidating.

"Walk!" the man ordered, pushing you forward towards the entrance of the tent after taking you carelessly from his horse.

Stumbling on your dormant feet, you walked slowly into that place and your eyes landed on a man comfortably sat in a bed of furs where he seemed to be waiting for the two of you: Ivar, the Boneless. The Ruthless blue-eyed Viking everyone in your lands learned to fear.

He was tall and strong, imposing into those black leather clothes. And his legs were covered with a metal structure you didn't take time to observe. Your eyes landed on the space beside his bed where, on the ground and chained like a dog, your father was, kneeled.

"Father!" you wanted to run towards him.

But the man that brought you held both of your shoulders, forcing you back.

"So... You said three," Ivar said, looking at your father.

"The other two were nowhere to be found," the man holding you reported.

"They weren't home! They were with their grooms! Release me!" you forced his grip, having no success in moving forward not even a centimeter.

Ivar slid forward in bed, placing his two feet on the ground with those metal armors clanging when he stood, picking a crutch to walk towards you.

God... That man was a wall! The more he approached, the more you understood how taller than you he was until he was looking at you from upon your head and you had to look up to face his fierce and limpid blue eyes.

"Please... She's just a girl, leave her alone," your father cried when Ivar touched your chin, almost as if he was examining a new slave.

"What is your name, woman?" he asked with the same strong accent that first man had, but kinda different.

Somehow, his tone was... Intense... Alluring.

"I'm Y/N," you answered.

"Do you know who I am, Y/N?" he asked.

Your father was still begging behind him, chained like a dog, pleading for your life. You knew you had to be brave if you wanted to save him.

"You're Ivar, the Boneless. The most feared man our lands ever knew," you mumbled.

And for your surprise, he giggled, looking back at your father with an enormous and beautiful smile on his face.

"You well educated your daughter, my friend... I like the way you speak about me, woman..."

You mutely thanked God he, somehow, was amused by your words.

"You see," he continued, "Your father is my prisoner... I caught him around my camp, stealing flowers from some bushes."

Your father lowered his head and your heart clenched on spot: when he left, you remember your father asked his three daughters if they wanted anything from his trip. Your sisters asked for jewelry and dresses. You? You said a single flower would be enough.

God... You wish you were greedy like your sisters once in your life.

"Since he was stealing from me, I think he can stay and serve me for the time I think it's right to pay the flowers he stole from me..."

"Please, release him from your punishment," you asked, surprising Ivar with your audacity of cutting his sentence before he could finish, causing him to look at you with an ironic doubt in his face.

"Are you asking me to let the thief go without any payment for what he did?" he asked, and you nodded negatively.

"No. I'm asking you to release my father from his obligations so he can go and tend for our family. I'll stay in his place."

Your father tried to get up immediately, completely nervous with your words.

"No! Y/N, for God, I beg you, no!!"

But you ignored him and continued, knowing you were doing the right thing.

"And as a way to prove you I'll serve you in goodwill, I offer myself to fulfill twice the time would be my father's punishment. If he would serve you a day, then, I'll serve you two. If he would serve you a month, then, I'll serve you two. I'll pay his price twice. One for the flowers he stole from you to bring as a gift for me. Another for your benevolence to let him go back to my sisters."

Ivar's face changed from the irony to genuine surprise as your father whined behind him, crying your terrible decision, knowing the Norseman wouldn't lose a chance for such a good deal.

"Would you serve me twice his price simply to warrant I'll let him go?" Ivar asked, looking into your eyes as if trying to confirm your bravery.

"Noble commander, my father is everything I have. My mother left us for the sake of our Lord's call when trying to give birth to a brother I never knew. The man behind you gave his life to raise me and my sisters with everything he could give us that was the best. He fed me and dressed me from the sweat of his collar. Tell me, why wouldn't I do the same for him? I do, my lord. I'll serve you twice his price. Three times if you want. I just ask you humbly to let him go, for my sisters need him back."

His surprise was converted into doubt and you saw in his eyes he wanted to test your heart.

"Fine. I accept your deal. Release the man," he ordered and the man who took you walked forward to release your father that instead of coming towards you, fell on his knees near Ivar's legs.

"Please... I beg you! Don't listen to my child! She doesn't know what she says! Please don't take her! Don't keep her like this! Please! PLEASE!"

Your father's voice became louder and louder while that man was dragging him away from the tent.

"If any harm is done to him, I'll cut your hands, did you hear me Ulf?" Ivar said, and you hear that man grunting something between a word of acceptance and an intelligible mumble you couldn't hear.

"How can I be sure of your kindness and honesty, my lord?" you asked, causing Ivar to giggle.

"Believing my word. The same way I'll do for you, woman. You could kill me while I sleep or leave my tent and flee. Such as I could kill your father or order his killing before he arrives at your home. We'll have to trust each other, I think... It's a fair situation, don't you think?"

You were forced to admit he was right and with this, you silenced, praying mutely that God would take care of your father and promising you would fulfill your oath to that Norseman in order to keep his safety.

"Well," Ivar's voice woke you up from your thoughts and you noticed he was pretty near you now. "I have a beautiful servant... However, you're my servant, not my slave... So, I think I should treat you properly instead of asking from you the services a slave would do, right?"

You felt your spine freezing. The services a slave would do...You remember your father once told one of his friends those Nordic men had slave women for nothing but having sex with them all the time. You shouldn't have listened to his conversation, but it came to your mind immediately and you looked at the man who would now be your master, thinking you had to give him good ideas to use you without compromising your honor.

You still wanted to find a good husband and have a life after that horrible situation. So... You had to fight for your future if you wanted to have any.

"I know how to read, and to write, in English, of course. And something in French," you started.

Causing Ivar to immediately turn his attention from the apple he started to bite to look at you.

"French? From Frankia?"

"Yes, my lord," you said, and he smiled.

"My uncle is something like a king or a duke in Frankia. Some of these important positions you Christians created. I would like to have someone to teach me their language... Here is something useful you can do. What more can you do, servant of mine?" he asked, mimicking your pompous way to speak with a mocking smile in the corner of his lips.

But you kept the respectful tone, still avoiding to look straight into his eyes as a good servant should do to her master.

"I know how to sew, embroider, cook, and wash. I'm a good cleaner. I also know how to properly take care of cattle and animals. If you allow me, I saw you have a horse to pull your chariot, and I know how to treat his health and appearance properly for a king's horse..."

"Was you Y/F/N's daughter or his servant, Y/N?" Ivar asked with a legitimate curiosity in his face. "You do everything a common servant does..."

"I'm his daughter, master Ivar," you said, looking at him. "But I was raised to become a good housewife. And after your army arrived in our country lands, my father lost everything to raiders and his business was closed. So, we lost our servants and I started caring for the house by myself," you explained. "This way, I've learned everything a servant should know. And I also worked for some neighbors that paid me for some of my tasks in order to have some more money for my father's house, my lord."

"Ivar... or Master Ivar. It's enough," he said, sounding a little softer than you could imagine from a man like him with the stories people used to tell about him. "Well, as long as you're here, I'll provide you with food, clothes and anything you need. You shall take care of my horse as you said cause I'm curious to see what is it that you call 'treat his health and appearance properly for a king's horse'. This will be done in the main time when you're not teaching me your language's minutiae and the French you said you know. We shall speak in English for you to understand, but I'll teach you my language so you can understand the people around you when I'm not here or near you. These shall be your tasks for the moment. You respect and report only to me, no other is allowed to give you orders nor ask you anything. You're mine for now and you shall stay for two years for your father would stay one and you promised to fulfill his punishment twice. If these conditions change, I'll let you know."

"Yes, master Ivar," you said, keeping the submissive action that really got something in Ivar's eyes towards you.

He would observe...

Something was telling him that would be a good deal, one better than he thought.

  "Je suis venu parler... à ton roi?" he made a small pause, looking at you to be sure he wasn't speaking it wrong.

And you smiled. His accent was pretty stronger in the French language and you couldn't say you weren't charmed by this anymore.

After all those months of living as Ivar's servant, you were starting to doubt all those stories about his savagery. At least, while learning from the parchments you wrote for him, with his brows frown and those blue eyes looking at you, he looked like a curious boy, trying to discover the mysteries of a different language and culture.

"That's it, master Ivar. Très bien!" you smiled.

Getting his brows to relax and his lips to curl in a gentle and satisfied smiled you learned was your favorite expression in his face.

One that he only had for you in all those months.

Ivar was always so serious and full of that imposing energy that you could understand maybe nobody had ever seen beyond that bestial mask, but somehow, you managed to enter his shields and what you saw was a treasure hidden from everyone.

"It's almost a year now," he mumbled, coming to sit by your side. "You have been fulfilling your promise to me and living as a servant in my house without complaining. You followed me from those tents to this castle, you cared for my horse, for my food, for my pains, and everything related to me and obeyed me without a single question."

"That's what I promised, master," you said, but this time, he touched your chin.

"Ivar," he mumbled, looking at you. "I think, more than my servant, you became my friend... I would like you to call me by my name from now on."

You smiled, unable to deny what he was saying. Indeed, you felt like a friend for him and it was true that he didn't have many people that wasn't around him to talk about battles and incursions. You became kind of a safe refuge where he could rest his mind from his overcoming days or search for help when his condition was too harsh with him - something you've learned about him as well: those braces weren't structures to make him look more imposing as some of your people thought it could be. They were sustainers, supports for his fragile legs that you, during this year, found different ways to care for.

You made Ivar's life lighter. You became a spot of light for him. One that he didn't want to think would go away someday.

"I decided I'll give you a gift for this first year of your promise fulfilled," he said, and you smiled at his gentleness. "Tell me, what is it that your heart wants?"

You were never too hard to please. It was never needed too much.

"I think I have everything I want, except for one thing..." you answered attracting his eyes towards you.

"Tell me. Jewels, richness, dresses, lands... Anything will be yours!"

"I would like to see my family once again," you answered.

Swallowing dry when his smile faded and his eyes looked at you first worried, then, in disapproval.

"No," he sentenced, almost in an angry tone. "I offer you anything and the first thing you think of asking me is to flee?"

Your heart ached. He understood it all wrong!

"No, master Ivar, I just..." you tried, but his voice became harsher towards you and then, you knew nothing could be said anymore.

"Leave!" he ordered. "You won't go anywhere! You won't make me a fool! There is still a whole year of your punishment to be fulfilled and you won't find a way to cut it in a half! Leave! Now!"

You made a small reverence, respectfully. And left the room hearing his angry growls inside remembering you that inside he could be that sweet boy you were learning to like so much. But outside there was still a beast. One that didn't like to be counteracted.

  The days passed since your first year completed - and no gift was given to you, but it wasn't something you were expecting, after all, so you didn't get sad. You never wanted Ivar to be so mad at you for a simple ask and trying to soothe his heart, you searched among his clothes that cloak he told you his mother had done to him. One that he had sunk into the deepest part of his vault when a situation in battle had torn its tissue, causing it to be marked and destroyed. You could remember how sad he was when he lost that single memory of his "beautiful mother" and so, you worked on the fibers, slowly restoring the sewing and treating the cloak until it was remade. You fixed the embroidery taking care to use the same kind of lines and tones of color to warrant the work would be perfect in the end. And you polished the leather pieces she made for him to tie the cloak hood, making them look like new once again. You washed all the mud and dust from the cloth and with some effort, you gathered the right fruits outside to make the pigment to re-dye the tissue, washing it some more times until the dye was fixed and the cloak was new.

With your work done, you knocked on Ivar's door, asking his permission to get in, observing as he was still looking at you with an offended glare you never wanted to trigger.

"What do you want?" he asked, ready to deny any second attempt of yours to see your family and leave him as his heart was fearing you would do.

But you came closer, silently placing the cloak near him, catching his eyes surprised by the appearance of new the cloth had now.

"You... fixed it?" he asked, picking the cloak in his hands, looking at the restored tissue with tender eyes, smelling the cloth and feeling the scent of the dye - the same fruit pigment his mother had used initially.

You could swear his eyes were teary when he closed them to smell the cloth once again.

"I thought it would make you happy," you mumbled, keeping the submissive attitude that had won his heart for you before.

Ivar looked at you with a sigh, a heavy breath.

"I fear you'll leave me," he mumbled, justifying his denial to your ask almost a month ago. "I fear you'll go and never come back. I fear you'll leave me alone again. I fear the loneliness that ceased existing after you came."

He feared.

Ivar the Boneless was admitting he was afraid of something because of you. You sat in front of him and he placed the cloak aside, touching your hands.

"You're not my servant. Nor my slave. You became something more than that to me. I never felt like this before nor so close to someone as you became closer to me, Y/N. I fear you'll go away. And I'll be lonely again."

"Once I promised I would serve you for the time my father owed you. I told you I would serve you twice this time. And here I am, a promise fulfilled to this day without any questions nor failures. Do I have your trust, master Ivar?" you asked, your eyes in his.

And Ivar sighed.

Since the first day, you never gave him a single reason not to believe in your words.

"You do," he answered, caressing your fingers softly. "I'll let you go and see your family. But you must come back in a week. I'll be very lonely and sad without you here," he confessed, causing your lips to curl in a gentle smile.

"I'll be back in a week, I promise," you warranted, feeling when his hand touched your face, cupping the side of your head without difficulty.

Ivar was huge near you, yet his touches were so kind... You leaned your face into his hand. Your heart was long ago melted for him and you knew that.

"When you come back, I want to make you a proposal. But only when you come back," he said, looking at you.

"Just one more reason for me to come back soon," you answered, smiling at him.

With this said, he kissed your forehead and allowed you to pack your things and prepare to leave. Ivar borrowed you a horse with small bags on its saddle for you to take supplies and your clothes.

And before you left, he came outside, to say his goodbyes and insist one more time.

"One week," he repeated.

But instead of giving any chance to the fear you could see in his eyes, you smiled from the horse towards him.

"I promise," you warranted, leaving under his eyes that followed you until he could no longer see your horse going away.

If you could only foresee what was to happen, you would never be so smiley over that horse. Instead, you would have never left Ivar's castle nor his side that cursed day...

You arrived in your village to see it completely different. The walls were reinforced, the whole place was closed like a fortress. It didn't look like the pacific village you knew since you were born.

You were surprised by the guards' reaction when you arrived at the huge iron doors and you had to wait a lot until one of your sisters finally came to recognize you and allow your entrance.

"We thought you were dead at this point! How did you survive all this time with that monster?"

It pained you that Ivar was still seen like this for your kind.

"He's no monster, Y/S/N. Ivar treats me well," you tried, but your sister scoffed as the two of you were walking inside the town.

"For a slave, of course. We're glad you came back home. We thought you would never be able to flee from that man."

"I didn't flee," you insisted. "He allowed me to come and see you. Where is our father?"

"In bed, sick since you left," she answered, for your disgust. "Our father never surpassed your capture, he blamed himself for the tortures you should be facing and fell ill since them. I think you came on time to see him one last time, Y/N."

Your heart clenched in your chest and you ran back home ignoring everything around and all the changes you could see. At your home, you confirmed your sister's terrible words kneeling beside your father's bed. He was thinner, sadder, but his eyes filled with a glow of relief when they landed over you one more time.

"My sweet, sweet Y/N... That monster didn't kill you, my child," he mumbled, and you caressed his hands, sighing anguished.

"No, father. Ivar is no monster... He has been treating me well, respectfully. I have a good life by his side and he allowed me to come and see you for a week since I have been fulfilling my promises to him. He's no monster, my father. You didn't hurt me or left me behind."

"Your words are only to bring gentleness to my heart, my princess. I can only imagine what kind of horrible things that Norse demon did to you that your kindness is hiding from your old father's ears," your father sighed.

But you held his hands, caressing his face softly.

"There were no horrible things, father. I have been teaching Ivar how to speak French. And he asks me to sew, sometimes to clean for him. He's a sick man," you said, changing the cloth on your father's forehead, gently checking on his temperature and comfort, like the old times. "Ivar is a pained man, mistreated by god. His legs are wounded and those braces are what allows him to walk. But they hurt his legs for this and he has horrible pains. I think God had mercy of him by sending us in his direction, my father. My hands soothe his pain, my teas help him to sleep, my presence soothes his heart and the loneliness he was dipped into."

You had a long conversation with your father, gently telling him about your days, but your sisters' ears were attentively catching parts of your words that they spoke on their husbands' ears when you weren't hearing, about Ivar's pain, about Ivar's weaknesses, about how hurt he was, how fragile were his bones. They took from you what they needed and your brothers in law prepared their men.

You spent the whole week unaware of what they were doing but when it was time to leave, things unfolded in front of your eyes like a blanket of pure treason when your sisters stood in front of you.

"You cannot leave," said one of them.

"You'll go anywhere, Y/N!" insisted the other.

"You'll no longer serve that beast we'll care to take down tonight! Our men have his castle surrounded and we know how to take him down. It's a cold and perfect night! Without the fire supplies of his castle, he'll be weakened. The beast will fall down!"

It was a cold night indeed. And in the cold, Ivar was weak. You understood they took it from your words and your heart broke into your chest.

Your sisters ignored what you said, your brothers in-law wanted nothing but the glory of killing the beast Ivar was known to be. But you knew he was no monster. You knew there was a good heart inside that man. You more than anyone knew you were his only chance just as you were the door through where your family found a way to reach him.

Without a word, you pushed your sisters aside. And your brother in law who tried to stop you discovered Ivar taught you very well how to defend yourself from any man who tried to hold your body: a pair of kicks in his balls and you broke free to run to your horse, leaving anything you had brought behind and riding in a fast pace towards Ivar's castle.

The place was surrounded but Ivar had taught you the passages through the castle in case you and he needed to flee. You used them on the opposite side, getting into the castle through the trapdoor at the end of the tunnel in the forest.

The castle insides were stone cold! There weren't lights; yet you ran through the stairs, through the halls, begging Ivar didn't leave yet... Wanting he didn't have been caught.

When you broke into the room where the two of you had mounted a small library, you finally felt a breeze of warmth, but a cold shiver went down your spine when you saw the traces of blood on the ground, dragging itself towards the back of the library where a light was poorly illuminating the place.

"Ivar? Ivar!" you called, squeaking when a dagger crossed your way sinking itself on the wood of the shelves right beside you.

Your eyes saw him on the ground, near a small firepit he made burning some of your parchments and books the two of you were reading together.

"Serpent perfide..." he cursed in French, looking at you with fierce and hurt blue eyes. "Am I saying this right, dear Y/N? Or did you teach me the wrong words? Can I trust you, my dear friend?"

Your heart broke into pieces. He thought it was you!

Of course, he thought it was you! Your brother in law was outside with his men! Your village's standard in every flag! Of course, he thought it was you.

But it wasn't. Or was it?

"I didn't... I swear... God! You're wounded!" you tried to walk forward when you saw he had an arrow in his flank.

But even bleeding, Ivar threw a second dagger, this time, scratching your face before sinking itself on the wood behind you.

"Not a single step forward, traitorous snake! Or I swear I'll kill you! I'll die here... But I'll take you with me!" his potent voice sounded breaking your heart one more time. "You delivered me... You told them how to weaken me... They killed my slaves, wet my firewood, locked me into this cold castle where I can feel nothing but pain. They knew about my sickness... They knew about my weakness. You told them everything!"

There was so much anger in his eyes! But more than that, disappointment. You could see he really trusted you and was really feeling betrayed. But it wasn't your intention... You never wanted to hurt him like that.

"I didn't tell them anything. My brothers in law must have heard me when I told my dad about you. My father was sick in his bed. I told him about how you weren't bad to me, to soothe his heart. It was a mistake... I should never have left your castle, my lord. Please, allow me to help! Let me approach..."

"So, you can sink a dagger in my heart by yourself? No!" Ivar yelled back, bringing tears to your eyes.

"I can help you reach the tunnels. There is no one in the woods. They know nothing about the passages. I can help you to flee, Ivar. Please!"

"Why should I trust you, Y/N? Why should I trust you when you gave me to them like this?" he asked.

And so, you gave up your coverage, walking freely towards him, even seeing he was holding firmly a third dagger that could kill you.

It would kill you.

If he ever had thrown that on you.

"You trust my word... Such as I trusted yours. You said once you wouldn't hurt me... I know you won't. I believe in you," you cried, kneeling beside him, touching his hand with the dagger, knowing he could sink it on your heart whenever he wanted.

Instead, Ivar let you touch his hand. He felt your other hand caressing his face. And you saw him closing his eyes, so full of pain.

"Why did you tell them? Why did you tell them how to hurt me?" he asked, so hurt. "I was waiting for you to come back. I believed you would come back and I was waiting to ask you to stay forever. I was waiting to ask you to be my wife," he confessed.

And you sobbed, touching your forehead to his.

"I didn't tell them, I swear. I never told them how to do such a disgrace. But I'll help you, my love. I'll take you out of here and I'll be by your side, Ivar. I'll be your servant. I'll be your wife if you want me. I love you... And I won't let you end here."

Ivar leaned his face forward and caught your lips by surprise, kissing you passionately, deeply, urgently. And you answered his kiss with love and tenderness, knowing your warmth was soothing the pain in his heart.

With your forehead touching his, you removed the arrow from his flank, holding his grunt of pain against your lips in a new kiss. You burned the wound so he would stop bleeding and helped him to warm his braces and dress them so he could walk, even slowly, beside you and with your support.

You helped Ivar to come down the stairs and through the halls. And you helped him to reach the trapdoor through where you came into the castle, helping Ivar to go down the tunnel.

"Go... I'll be right behind you, my love," you promised.

And this time, he trusted you blindly, following the tunnel as you told him to do.

You went back to the library, feeding the fire he started, turning it into a huge fire that started licking every shelf, every piece of wood in the castle. You threw the furniture down to the fire on your way and took with you his cloak and blankets for the winter nights. A bag of gold and silver and nothing more. When you slid down the trapdoor, the fire was already hot enough to burn your skin, but you closed the door and fled through the tunnel, meeting your beloved Ivar near your horse in the middle of the trees.

"A part of my army escaped. We have a meeting point not far from here..." Ivar said, caressing your face. "I'll never forget what you did today, but you know I'll come for them, don't you?"

"Spare my father, that's all I ask. And If you can, let my sisters flee. But I won't take from you your revenge, my love. Until there, let us get out of here," you said, throwing the cloak over his shoulders and helping him climb up the horse.

The frustration screams from your greedy brother in law filled the sky when he finally broke into the castle to find nothing but the ashes you left behind.

Riding into the night, Ivar embraced your waist and you relaxed against his chest knowing your beloved beast was safe and your heart could rest in peace.

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

|| @bluearchersstuff​ || @ivarswickedqueen​ || @directionlessbuthappy​ || @akamaiden​ || @bang-kim-bap​ || @cris101071​ || @elysias-temple​ || @alicedopey​ || @captstefanbrandt || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ || @lol-haha-joke​ || @normatural​ || @readsalot73​ || @rekdreams247​ || @slutforasoldier || @naaladareia​ || @laketaj24​ || @therealcalicali​ || @grungyblonde​ || @arses21434​ || @honestsycrets​ || @rabeccablake || @2thequietone4​ || @blackspiritshake​ || @vikingsbifrost​ || @wallabieswisher​ || @sincerelysinister || @lyanna-the-giantsbane​ || @chinduda​ || @isthat-tyra98​ || @xinyourdreamsx​ || @littledeadrottinghood || @thiahilmarsdottir​ || @queenbeeta​ || @notyouraveragegirl17 || @winchesterwife27​ || @gold-dragon-slayer​ || @mzliterarydreamer​ || @youbloodymadgenius​ || @alwaysbenhardysgirl​ || @marvelouuse​ || @tgrrose​ || @lif3snotouttogetyou​ || @lordsexmachine​ || @deathbyarabbit​ || @ietss​ ||  @hissouthernprincess​ || @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ ||

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar imagine #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #shot #Dark Dysney and Other Fairy Tales Writing Challenge

[wheredostarsgowhenyoudie]

You'd never know what day your life would change. It could be today or tomorrow. It could be a day when the sun reigns in the sky or a day when stormy clouds rule. It could be a day you're happy or a day you're down. No one could tell. But when it happens, you'll know it, because suddenly everything is different and nothing will ever be the same again.

The day it happened, Merlin still wasn't convinced that Arthur wasn't lying when he told him he acknowledges that he has magic and that it doesn't change the fact that he's still an idiot.

The warlock wanted to believe him. He really does. But when one had been living in the shadows of lies, deceit and fear for as long as he had, it couldn't be harder to step into the light and accept that it was real.

Merlin hated that he couldn't be fully at ease with Arthur and the knights. He hated seeing the hurt in the prince's eyes every time he would wince when the royal would draw a sword or prepare to give an order. Merlin also noticed that the knights had been taking turns, keeping him company on his chores and going out of their way to ask him questions to learn more about his magic.

Merlin wasn't oblivious to their intentions. He knew that his friends were doing it to show him that it's alright to be himself around them. But as much as he appreciates their effort, try as he might, he still just couldn't erase the nagging fear at the back of his mind that Arthur would change his mind and decide that burning at the stake is where he belongs and that the knights would agree with him.

The worst part was that even if they do, Merlin would only understand their choice. They had been breaking the law by lying to Uther just to save his head. While Gwaine had no qualms deceiving the king, he knew the rest of the knights had their apprehensions. And Arthur, well it was him that Merlin feels most sorry to. What kind of friend does it make him if Arthur had to lie to his own father to protect him?

There's no question that Merlin couldn't have picked better friends. But what does that make him? For someone who has his secret out in the open, Merlin still doesn't feel free. Sometimes, he even finds himself believing that maybe he will never be.

It might just be so that for all the trials and tribulations magic had brought into his life, in the end, it will still be the one constant he can rely on.

Merlin barely managed to catch his breath on his way to Gaius' chambers when Gwen came running to him.

"Gwen?" he asks, instantly worried for the first friend he made in Camelot. "What's going on?"

"It's Arthur, Merlin!" Gwen answered. "Uther sent him and the knights to search what's causing the villagers' fright in the Forest of Merendra. Arthur sent me to inform you to take the shortcut and bring food and extra towels."

Merlin frowned. "When was this?"

"Just right after you left. They wanted to wait for you but Uther was insistent, and they couldn't tarry, else, Uther would be suspicious."

"I know that," said Merlin, knowing she was trying to assure him that they didn't leave him by choice. "I'll catch up with them. It should be no problem."

"Good," Gwen smiled before taking off the satchel strapped on her shoulder and handing it to him. "I prepared everything you might need. Now all you have to do is get a horse and leave." Then, taking the basket from him, she added, "As for the herbs, let me deliver them to Gaius. I'm sure he won't mind."

Merlin beamed, amused at her preparedness. "Thanks Gwen. I owe you," he expressed, clutching the supplies to his chest and running past her and into the stables. "And please tell Gaius I've gone after the prat!"

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Arthur couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the body lying still in the middle of the forest. He took a quick scan around the area just to see if they were being watched. It was a pity he got separated from the knights.

His own experiences with magical creatures had taught him to be wary, but he couldn't for the life of him, abandon the knight's code and turn away from a potential damsel in distress. And somehow, even if he wasn't willing to believe it at first, knowing that his idiot of a best friend has magic and could find him wherever he was, was a reassurance of its own kind. Not that he'll ever admit it to Merlin. The idiot would never let him hear the end of it if he does.

But just in case, he unsheathed Excalibur and prepared for an attack.

Carefully, he turned her so he could see her face.

"A princess?" he gasps, eyes instantly drawn on the silver tiara on her head. He had never seen anything like the pale blue dress she was wearing.

Arthur quickly reached a finger under her nose to see if she's still breathing. He couldn't help but worry what her presence here would mean if his assumptions were right.

To his relief, he had barely lifted her when she began to stir. He watched as chocolate brown eyes slowly blinked into awareness.

Gently, he helped her to sit up, making sure to support her back to keep her steady. The feel of his gloved hand on her back must have done the trick and she shrieked, jumping in fright of him. He would have laughed if she didn't look so scared.

"Oh, dear Merlin!" she exclaimed.

Arthur frowned. "You know my manservant?"

"Ahm," she started to say, and he easily caught onto her confusion.

"Forgive me, please," Arthur quickly apologized, making sure to step away to assure her that he meant her no harm. "My name is Arthur. I mean no threat to you, my lady, but I found you unconscious in the middle of Forest of Merendra. Tell me, where are you from? Do you remember how you got here?"

"Forest of-" she trailed, and he waited patiently as she finally seemed to absorb her surroundings. Her eyes widened in shock and she gasped, raising a hand to her forehead. "Oh, Hermione, what have you done now?"

"Hermione?" Arthur's face brightened. "Is that what they call you? What kingdom are you from?"

"I-…" she bit her lip in thought. "I'm sorry. Who did you say you are again?"

"Arthur. Arthur Pendragon, at your service," he reintroduced, waiting for recognition to dawn on her.

He didn't expect amused laughter to be her reaction. "Seriously, where are we? Is this some kind of a theme party? Are you in cosplay? Is that it? Well, I certainly can't remember drinking enough for this," she rambled. "Wait, I must be dreaming! That's it, isn't it? I'm dreaming, or I must be under a spell…A pensieve? But I don't remember…"

The prince listened to her patiently, mentally taking note of the words in her rant that he finds unfamiliar. Eventually, she stopped on her own and turned to him.

"Let's try that again, shall we?" she suggested. "Where are we?"

Arthur sighed but had no choice but to acquiesce. She still hasn't confirmed who she is and what she's doing dressed so thinly in this cold, or why she doesn't seem too worried at the thought that she might be under a spell. "We're in the Forest of Merendra in the Kingdom of Essetir. We're miles away from Camelot."

At this, her eyes widened and she pulled away from him. "Camelot?" Then, sounding fearful now, she asked. "And you're telling me you're King Arthur? As in THE King Arthur? Are you messing with me?"

"Well, no, it is my father, Uther, that is king. I'm only a prince. But I don't understand why you find this so hard to believe. Surely, you've heard of Camelot?"

She didn't get to answer though as the roars of the linen wrapped beasts finally caught up to him. Quickly, he helped her get to her feet and readied to defend.

"Well if you're Arthur, then what are they?" she asks, mystified. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd hit her head real hard that she still thinks she's dreaming.

But the pondering would have to wait as the creatures began to surround them.

'Anytime now would be great, Merlin.' He thought before he answered her.

"They're soulless animals' corpses being controlled by a sorceress."

"So they're dead? Like mummies?"

"You need to get behind me," he instructed, eyes at the beasts, only to startle when she stepped right beside him instead.

"How do we fight them?"

Arthur's first instinct was to tell her off for foolish bravery but one look at the advancing beasts told him there was no time for that. She at least needs to know what they're up against. "Fire, we need to burn them. But normal fire isn't enough. We need to-"

"It isn't working!" she was screaming before he could even register that she was holding a stick and one of the walking dead beasts was suddenly set ablaze.

"How did you?" he asked, before realization dawned on him and he turned to her in disbelief. "You're a sorceress!" he accused just as a lion jumped at him and he dodged, seeing her do the same in the corner of his eyes.

"What?" The girl, Hermione, scoffed, looking very much offended. "Flipendo!" she screamed before a light shot out of her stick and hit a tiger in the chest. "No, I'm a witch! Now, quickly tell me how to defeat them! Normal fire isn't working."

Arthur fought a headache from coming. Fate must be punishing him for treating his manservant so cruelly. As if dealing with one Merlin isn't enough…

"They're creatures of magic. The fire must be enchanted to destroy them."

"Of course," she breathed, eyes widening as though she'd just made a wonderful realization. Arthur barely moved his foot before he heard her say, "Stay back and don't move," and then, "FIENDFYRE!"

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Merlin had barely stepped into the forest when he felt it - magic both light and dark and so intensely heavy that he won't be surprised if he could touch it just by reaching out his hand.

He hurried his horse to the source of the screams and light, but nothing could have prepared him to what he saw.

A girl dressed like royalty was standing before a disgruntled Arthur, her arm outstretched and preventing the prince from taking any step farther as they stared down the army of mummified beasts advancing towards them.

His heart all but leaped out of his chest at the sight of the phoenix erupting from her wooden stick.

"ARTHUR!" he yelled.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

The frightened voice sounded very much like his manservant, but the prince couldn't keep his eyes away if he tried, gaping as the fire bird flew to devour the whole beastial army, leaving nothing but ashes on its wake.

He only breathed, alert and mortified when the phoenix started to turn on him. Before he knew it, Merlin had thrown his own weight to push them both out of harm's way and onto the ground, a move they soon found unnecessary when the fire bird released an ear piercing screech before drawing back and disappearing into thin air, leaving their eyes to settle on the lone girl standing in the middle of the devastation.

Legs apart, back straight, eyes ablaze and unrelenting, and with her hair crackling of magic - she looks like the perfect embodiment of an avenging female angel if they'd ever seen one.

No one said a word until she broke the silence.

"Is that enough?" she asked, eying them expectantly. "Are we safe now?"

"Huh," was the prince's unintelligible response, the only one he could manage after seeing what he saw. But he saw her brow lift higher and knew she was awaiting his answer.

"Yes," Arthur finally agreed, "I suppose that will do it." Then turning to the astounded warlock lying on his back beside him, he says, "Merlin, I think she just beat you in the most glamorous display of magic."

"You're-" she started to say, but the use of magic must have drained her and she began to sway.

Arthur hurried to help but Merlin signalled he let him instead, still feeling the lingering trace of unfamiliar magic in the air. It felt like his own and yet so different.

"SIRE!"

"Merlin!"

The voices came from the knights who arrived just in time to see Merlin carry the now unconscious girl in his arms.

"Who is she?" he found himself asking.

"I don't know," Arthur said, sounding as puzzled as he looked, staring at the sleeping damsel. "She seemed lost. She didn't even know who I am and yet, she protected me." Looking at his manservant, he asks, "Is she alright?"

Merlin nodded.

"Merlin, you alright mate?" Gwaine asked, seeing him look so perplexed.

This time, Merlin didn't nod, unsure of it himself.

He just witnessed magic unlike anything he'd ever seen.

But then she stirred on his arms, the tip of her stick accidentally touching his arm and Merlin's breath was caught at the feel of her magic humming and causing his skin to tingle with warmth.

"I think I need to speak with Kilgharrah."

A/N: Chapter 7 up! Read it here at...

#merlin #bbc merlin #hermione granger x arthur pendragon #hermione granger x merlin #merin and arthur pendragon #au #friendship #adventure #romance #fanfiction

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Guardian’s Oath, Part Sixteen

Here it is, my beautiful readers, the last part of this ongoing saga! This was something that I originally thought I’d complete around mid-October, so that I could continue with a couple of other Halloween-themed pieces I had in mind. Oh well... Christmas is traditionally a time for ghost stories, not that this is really a ghost story... anyway...

Thank you very much to those who have followed along with the story. If you’d like to get yourself caught up on what this is, you can find all the previous chapters linked in the Master List. But whenever you’re ready to find out how it ends, you can just click to “keep reading”.

(As always, what gets published here is first-draft, unedited, unchecked rawness. There are going to be spelling mistakes, grammatical mistakes, hell, you’re lucky if I don’t start calling characters by different names halfway through. I apologize for all that.)

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 3,115

Content warning: Honestly, if you’ve made it through the rest of the story, there’s nothing here that’s going to bother you. And saying more than that would probably mean spoiling the story. 

“Imagine my surprise when we got home and found out you’d run off on some servant’s errand,” he whispered. “What on Earth would have possessed you to do that?”

“I just wanted to get outside and do something to feel useful.”

“And then when you finally get home, you’re in another man’s arms.”

“That’s not true. He was helping me up the walkway and-”

He held my face in his hands and kissed me, hard. 

“Tell me, where else did he have his hands today?”

“Feargal, you’re being ridiculous,” I chided, but then cried out a little as he trailed his hand down my body, finding my nipple through my clothes and pinching it hard. 

“What else did you let him do to you?” He gripped my face in his hand and pushed me down on the bed before climbing on top of me. “What was it that left you so sore and weak that you couldn’t walk without his help?”

“You know perfectly well that-”

He kissed me, roughly pulling my skirt up and running his hands over my legs. 

“I haven’t been allowed to touch you in so long.”

I was stunned as I realized what he wanted, as I felt him tearing away at my undergarments. 

“You can’t be serious. The door is open. Susan could walk in! The children could walk in!”

He merely grunted and loosened his own clothing enough to free his erect member, the weight of it even more impressive than I remembered against my thigh. He kissed and bit at my neck, snarling softly like a beast, like a beast I knew all too well. He thrust inside me hard and immediately I knew something was wrong. The pain was sharp and overwhelming, and I almost cried out loud but for the fact that he placed his hand over my mouth just in time. 

“Please,” I sobbed into his hand, shaking my head. “No.”

As suddenly as they had started, his movements stilled. He stared at me wide-eyed and in shock. 

“My love,” he gasped. “I forgot that… I am so sorry.”

He withdrew from me and tucked himself away, stroking my hair with one hand. He continued to apologize even as I assured him that everything was alright.  He straightened his clothing and rose unsteadily from the bed, carrying himself out of the room and downstairs with an almost drunken gait even though I called after him. 

It took me a few minutes to recover myself enough to sit up and smooth my clothing into a more presentable state. I looked into the crib next to the bed and saw my son lying quietly, his eyes blinking and staring off towards the window. I hesitated to touch him in case he started crying but I could not resist the urge to place my hand on the blanket next to him, so that I could feel the heat of his body against mine. 

I moved to leave, meaning to head downstairs when it caught my eye: three scratches on the wooden frame of the crib, three parallel lines the like of which I had seen before. 

*

Once I had seen the Demon’s calling card and after Feargal’s sudden outburst, I knew that I had to do something. I had looked in the eyes of both my husband and the demon and now I truly believed that they were one and the same. I knew that the scratches I had seen on the crib were fresh because I had kept my eyes peeled for any sign that Balor might come to carry out his threat to take Michael away. No one could have snuck into the house and up to our room in the light of day. It was Feargal I had seen holding him. And I had experienced his bizarre behavior immediately afterward. 

I knew I couldn’t say these things to anyone else. Even saying them in my own head, they seemed insane. But my baby’s life was at risk and, by extension, the lives of William and Sophia, who I had sworn to protect. Although I had no confirmation, my instinct remained that getting Michael baptized would put him out of the Demon’s reach. Whether or not that would solve our problems, I did not know. 

My plan was to wait until everyone was asleep and then to leave with Michael. In order to avoid involving anyone else in the town, I resolved to walk the distance to the next village and to present myself to a pastor there as a young mother afraid for her baby’s health and insistent that he be baptized. There was no chance I would make it back before everyone awoke the next day, which meant that I would need an excuse to tell my family, something I had not yet worked out. I told myself that something would come to me because it had to. 

Every day I stared at the scratches on the crib and worked out the path I would take, what I would wear to keep us both warm, all of the details that I needed to know to accomplish my goal. I had not chosen a specific date but one night I felt a chill over my skin as I watched Michael sleeping and I knew that the time was at hand. 

I had lain awake every night making sure I knew every angle, every board, every nuance of the room so that I could get up quickly and access the clothing I had stashed for easy access. Feargal slept peacefully next to me and as I looked at the soft curve of his lips, my resolve faltered. He was still so beautiful, so much more than I ever could have imagined I would have as a husband. Surely I was mad to even think he could be a monster? 

Then I closed my eyes and forced myself to think of the ferocious look in his eyes when he was jealous, so pale and cold, just like those of Finn Balor. I thought of his touch, and how his hands and arms felt exactly the same against my skin. And I reminded myself that, as impossible as it might seem, this might also explain what had happened to his first wife. It pained me but I had to move forward. 

I slipped from the bed an inch at a time, freezing in place any time I thought Feargal showed a sign of stirring, and dressed myself in the clothes I’d prepared for the journey. Then came the most difficult part. Michael was asleep in his crib and I knew that picking him up would wake him. Ever so gingerly, I held a scarf against his face, so that at least the sounds he made would be muted. 

When I lifted him, however, it was like he understood that he should remain quiet. His blue eyes opened and looked around but he immediately curled against my breast and settled as if he was about to fall asleep again. I wrapped a blanket and my cloak around us both so that he would be warm and made my way to the stairs, walking to the rhythm of my own heartbeat. 

I had spent weeks memorizing where to walk on each stair to avoid making the floorboards creak under my weight and when I reached the bottom, I congratulated myself, for I had executed the descent perfectly. I hurried to the street door, confident that the rug would disguise any sound, and slowly turned the key to unlock it. It hadn’t been easy, but I had practiced moving the key so that it made hardly any noise, even when the deadbolt slipped back. What is most important to understand is that my plan had unfolded flawlessly to that point and that I had made so little noise that even the infant in my arms remained at peace. 

“Where are you going?” came the sharp voice behind me. 

I spun, biting down on my tongue to avoid crying out, and found myself facing William and Sophia, both in their nightclothes but looking almost unnaturally alert. I closed my arms tight around Michael and struggled to think of an adequate answer. After all, I had assumed that I would have the time to think of some cover story while I walked. I had nothing prepared to explain myself, even to children. 

“Where are you going?” William repeated, his voice rising. 

I held my finger to my lips in the hopes that no one else would overhear us. 

“What are you doing up? Go back to bed!” I whispered. 

“We heard you moving around,” he answered. 

I knew that that was not true. I knew how deeply they slept and I had not heard a sound behind me until he spoke. It was impossible that they had heard me and I had not heard them. It was more like they had already been awake and downstairs, lying in wait for me. But I couldn’t say that to them, so I tried to make an excuse. 

“Your brother is sick. I’m taking him to see a doctor.”

Sophia arched her brow at me. “Why not just send for the doctor to come here?”

I swallowed and once again motioned for them to stay as quiet as possible. “I don’t care for the doctors here. I want him seen to by someone else.”

“But that’s silly,” she responded sharply, although at least quietly. “It’s dangerous taking him outside, especially if he’s already sick. You should tell Father and have him go.”

“I don’t have time to explain right now,” I insisted, “but please, just go back to bed. We’ll have lots of time to discuss this when I come back.”

“No,” William pouted, “she’s right. You need to leave him here. As long as he’s here, we’re all safe.”

Sophia pinched him hard on the arm and he cried out, fortunately not very loudly. 

I struggled to understand what he meant, why he thought that having a sick baby remain in the house somehow meant that we would be safe. It was possible, of course, that he simply didn’t understand how sickness worked, but then it would make no sense that his sister had upbraided him for saying it. Was she embarrassed that he might look foolish? No, I thought, it was something else. He’d said something that she specifically didn’t want him to say. 

“Why do you think you’d be safer with him here, William?” I asked, focusing my eyes solely on him. 

He looked at his sister, who shook her head quickly. He continued to stare at her for what seemed like a long time. Finally, it was she who responded. 

“You promised you’d protect us. You can’t protect us if you’re not around.”

“I’ll be gone less than a day. You aren’t in any danger.”

She shook her head again. “We’re not safe from him until he gets what he wants. Michael needs to stay here and so do you.”

I blinked, not quite believing what I’d heard. They weren’t safe until “he” gets what he wants? Who did she mean? Was it at all possible that she knew of the demon and his determination to take the baby? And would her words not indicate that she wanted to help him? 

I stared into her dark eyes and felt a shiver go from my skin down to my very core at how cold they looked in the low light. William’s expression was impetuous but hers was more frightening because of its utter lack of human emotion. There was no hint of anything childlike or innocent about her. 

Somehow, I could feel that she knew that the demon Finn Balor was lurking and that he was determined to take this child, my child, the third child of the house, away to be with him. And she believed that letting him do so would protect the family from him in the future. Did she know that he had also threatened to take me? Did she care? 

Unable to come up with another word to say, I grabbed the door handle and opened it, motioning to the children one last, desperate time, to keep silent. 

It was no use. 

“Papa, papa, come quick, please!” William cried at the top of his voice as I stepped through the threshold. 

I scurried down the path to the gate and was shocked that as I reached to lift the bolt that Feargal came storming out of the house. He was still in his pajamas, but had managed to pull on his great-coat and boots in the mere seconds that had elapsed. I was so struck by his sudden appearance that I stood frozen in place for a moment until I realized that he was nearly upon me. 

I darted onto the road and turned to head towards the town and the main road there, only to be blocked by him as he ran through the gate and stood in my path. 

“Helen, what are you doing? Get back in the house this instant!” he exclaimed. 

I shook my head and retreated, back down the street, although there was only the beach and the ocean in that direction. 

“What’s gotten into you?” he persisted, following my every step but allowing me to maintain a distance between us. 

“He needs to be baptized,” I stammered, clutching tightly at the bundle in my arms as he started to stir. 

“Of course he does. I told you, I’m arranging it with Reverend Devlin.”

“No,” I snarled, “he needs to be baptized tonight. He can’t wait any longer.”

“Ok, I haven’t spoken to the Reverend yet,” he admitted, moving towards me as I continued to back away. “I’m sorry that I haven’t kept my word. But I’ll speak to him first thing in the morning, I promise. Just come back inside and come to bed.”

He extended an arm to me and I felt my heart breaking. How could I have thought such horrible things of him? But just as I was about to take his hand, a cloud crossed the moon and as it did, I saw the face of the demon, the shadowy skin and white eyes, the voraciousness and danger and I could no longer convince myself that this man was merely the gentle country pastor I had believed him to be. 

“You cannot have him,” I spat. And I turned and ran as fast as I could- not terribly fast, I will admit- even though I knew I was running towards a dead end. 

The thudding of footsteps behind me was my greatest impetus to keep moving and so when I reached the rickety stairs that lead down to the beach, I did not hesitate. I nearly fell and crushed Michael against my chest to try to protect him from the roughness of the descent. Once on the sand, I continued to scramble along as best I could, until I felt my arm grabbed roughly from behind. I spun away, tightening my grip on the baby and screamed in anger and fear. 

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” he shouted at me, struggling to be heard over the fierce wind off the sea. 

“I know you mean to take him, to harm him. I know what you are,” I cried triumphantly. “You think that I’ll let you steal him away and condemn him to hell with you?”

“For God’s sake, Helen, this is insanity! He’s my son!”

As he spoke, I once again saw the light of the moon obscured by a cloud and the hungry face of the Demon Balor was revealed to me. He reached forward repeating that Michael was his son and I started to run again, almost falling as I did.

“He’s my child and you will never take him,” I screamed, stumbling and barely regaining my footing. 

He advanced on me, and as he did his face shifted from the distraught, desperate Feargal Devitt to the hungry, demanding Finn Balor. I wanted to believe that only one of them was real. I wanted to believe that I could separate them. But why would God have favoured me with a perfect husband and happy life? Who was I to deserve to be Mrs. Devitt, wife of the country pastor? 

I backed away as fast as I could, careful to watch him for any sudden moves. 

“Is this what happened with Sarah?” I taunted. “It is, isn’t it? She knew what you’d do if she had a third child, knew that you’d claim it and take it away.”

“Helen, please…”

“But she tricked you, didn’t she?” I continued, trying to be mindful of the stones in my path. “When she found out she was going to have a third child, she went to see the woman in the village, Susan’s aunt. She wanted to get rid of it, didn’t she?”

“Stop it now, you need to come home.”

“And you must have been furious when you found out.” I found myself piecing the story together as I spoke, more upset with every syllable but unable to stop myself from continuing. “Did you attack her? Is that why she ran from your house in the middle of the night? Did she die trying to escape your wrath or did you smash her skull against the rocks of that cave?”

At that, he lunged at me, knocking me down as he tried to wrest the precious bundle from my arms. I landed hard but the sand was at least a little forgiving and despite being winded by the fall, I continued to struggle with him, to keep him from claiming my innocent child. 

I sat up, clawing at his face, which did force him back a little. I clutched my baby in one arm as I tried desperately to scratch and slap at Feargal, at Balor, at both of them together, until he fell back on his haunches, panting for breath. 

“He’s not moving, Helen,” he shouted at me. “Why isn’t he moving?”

I didn’t want to allow him to distract me, but I knew that the bundle in my arms had stayed unnaturally still. Looking down, I tapped at his face to revive him, my breath quickening when I could not get a response. A heavy hand landed painfully on my shoulder as I struggled to wake Michael from his slumber. 

“What’s wrong?” he shrieked. 

“I don’t know,” I sobbed, rubbing at his tiny chest with my hand. 

“What have you done, Helen?” he roared, shaking me by the shoulder. “What have you done?”

#wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #nxt fanfiction #nxt imagine #finn balor fanfic #finn balor imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wayward wrestle writing

[fantasticstoryteller]

Kingdoms ch. 82

Even the most hardcore fanatics of Ajax were nervous around their new god. The shiny, liquid-like black substance that surrounded the vessel (in no way could it be called a “man” anymore) with white patches on the forearms to the wrists and white markings on its face that made it look—skeletal. There was also something—inherently threatening about it, like it was a few moments away from killing everyone.

The only one who didn’t seem to notice, was the king of Ajax himself. “A god needs to be threatening,” he growled when someone (unwisely) brought it up to him.

This was more proof to Flash that the man was insane. He hadn’t needed the reminder—although the people that served the madman seemed to be in shock. It was amazing the lengths the servants would go through to not be the one waiting on their new god.

At this point Flash could have started a revolution against Francis, the new god being one disaster too many for the people, he could have—but he still needed to get his revenge. It wasn’t his fault the Arachnids were too hung up on tradition to understand the genius of his breeding methods. No, he needed to teach them a lesson, and the Ajax was his tool to do so.

Well, not all of the Arachnids were hopeless; there was this one girl back home who was willing to send him information. He’d had to convince her that he’d been framed for his father’s crimes, but it was worth it to give the information to the king of Ajax who then gave it to the Reaper “specialists.” He got grim pleasure out of the fact that his information was the reason his worst enemies in Arachne would die, and he was considered a valuable member of the court for his contributions.

He didn’t think twice about it when he was given a special mission—leading a force into Arachne and keeping them hidden from gossiping tongues until they made it to the castle. He thought it was a special privilege, not a punishment. A week into the mission changed his mind.

“No,” Flash said flatly as he looked around the group of warriors. “You cannot slaughter that village to the ground because a child saw your face.”

The soldier in question lifted his lips in a silent snarl. “We’re to leave no trace of our passing,” he argued.

“No,” argued Flash as reasonably as he could, “we’re to give no warning that we’re coming. Nothing screams ‘mysterious enemies en route to the capital’ quite like entire villages being slaughtered.”

“We could make it look like the work of wild beasts,” argued another soldier.

“There aren’t any in Arachne,” Flash said, much less patiently. “Look, Arachne has spiders, yes?” They reluctantly nodded. “The spiders eat beasts and are protective of people. There are no wild beasts in this entire kingdom capable of destroying an entire village!” He took a deep breath and modulated his tone. “Look,” he said firmly, “it doesn’t matter if a child in the village saw your face.”

“We’re dressed as people from Reaper,” argued one of the soldiers.

A headache began to bloom in Flash’s temples. “Yes,” he said firmly. “We’re dressed as people from Reaper—because Arachne is accepting refugees from Reaper. Anyone identifying the way we’re dressed will assume we’re refugees. That’s why we’re dressed like this!” They muttered rebelliously—but obeyed. After all, he was the native. They moved on.

He didn’t know if it was because they had been raised in two very different lands or if there was some other factor in play, but they were absolutely horrible to be around. Everything kept wearing at his patience; the way they hunted, the way they they fought, the way they couldn't silently walk through a forest to save their damned lives!

He consoled himself with thoughts of Peter. Memories of stolen glimpses from watching him with the temple children. Watching him weave in the courtyard of the temple when all the looms had been moved outside the temple for inexplicable reasons. Perhaps it had merely been a nice day. He’d fall asleep every night remembering slim, graceful hands passing the shuttle through the threads for weaving.

They reached the castle. They attacked. All according to plan. They had passed, unnoticed and unnoticeable, through the countryside. They had made it right when Flash was certain his pawn in the court was discovered. The rawest of the people with Flash had more training than most of the seasoned soldiers of Arachne. It should have been a slaughter.

It was. Waves of defenders fell against the onslaught, well within prediction. He was not surprised when more soldiers swarmed out of the castle, over the walls on the backs of their spiders—only for the spiders to fall to the poisonous arrows the soldier specialists carried.

There were several miscalculations. They didn’t have enough arrows for the spiders, as the poison didn’t work on spiders and humans—and it was necessary to cut through the oncoming human soldiers as well. Being born and raised in Arachne, Flash was inherently immune to the initial rush of fear that humans felt being face to face with what their minds insisted was a monster, no matter how much they knew better. The soldiers with him had no such insulation; they last a good third to sheer, blind panic to the first wave of rider spiders coming over the wall.

He had expected for Commander Osborn to run out, to personally protect his mate. He had expected to see the monster that had claimed Peter do the same and relished in the notion that he might take one of them down. He had not expected for the Queen of Arachne herself and High Priest Peter to come out and join the fighting.

He certainly hadn’t expected his own reaction to seeing it. Both Queen and High Priest were quickly surrounded. Flash’s gaze centered on Peter—watching him fight valiantly, but failing. Knowing he was going to be overrun, going to die.

No!

Then, out of nowhere, a whisper in the back of his mind. “I can help you save him.”

Flash looked out at the omega he loved, in danger because of him, and whispered, “Please.”

The transition was quick, and swift. He was shoved into the back of his mind as—something took over his body. He watched as as black, oily tendrils spun away from his core to stab through the bodies of those nearest him and then watched as his body raced towards the endangered priest. He was nothing more than a passenger now.

Freed from having to try to control his body, he watched what he could through the battlefield as his body fought to protect Peter. (It also, irritatingly, protected the Queen.) From the corner of his eyes he could see a menacing figure make it to the field wearing a suit so vibrantly red the blood that splashed against it looked dull in color. No, colors were starting to look dull.

The tide of battle turned, the attackers were beaten back, and the force that had pushed Flash out of his body suddenly let him take it back over. He collapsed in pain. Somehow, during the battle, he’d been stabbed several times and he was bleeding out.

He was caught, on his way to the ground, by a pair of arms. He looked up into a pair of swimming amber eyes. “Eugene?’ asked Peter softly.

Peter remembered. Peter remembered his name. “Hey,” he croaked reached up. His hands left a bloody smear on Peter’s cheek. “You okay?”

Peter smiled through tears falling down his cheeks. “I’m okay,” he whispered.

“I can’t fix it,” a voice wailed through their minds.

It was the last thing that Eugene, also known as Flash, ever heard.

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool #interlude #omegaverse

[diamondcamefromhell]

Fire

A/N: I got this request like a billion weeks ago and i am so sorry it took me so fucking long to get to it??? im incapable of handling resposibilites as you may know by now, lol, either way, since my third person thing seemed to be well recieved, i will do more now [hence, this] but will also stick to good ol’ first person, as i think some stories are better like that!

Summary: -summarized the request- Jaskier x reader where they both go on an adventure while Geralt is away with “some things” [wink wink] and they explore a cave, which ends up nearly collapsing on them

Warnings: swearing and just, fighting a cyclops

Word count: 2,493

Any and all feedback is GREATLY appreciated and can be left on my ask page anonymously!

They watched their friend leave, not sure what to do. Y/N sighed, tying her hair back, glancing at the bard in front of her. While Jaskier didn’t seem to worry, there was a shadow of something over his face. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy when Geralt went with some ladies, his mind drifting back to Yennefer. His fears were valid, and thus the girl knew she has to distract him.

“Hey, Jask.” She caught his attention, leaning over their table, a cheeky grin painting over face. “Want to go explore around?”

“It’s not safe.” Jaskier argued, glancing out the window. The dusk was coming as he could see the sun coming closing in to the horizon.

“I have Carabella and Wolf.” Y/N argued.

Jaskier glanced at the girl, as she pulled out her two swords.

Carabella has been with her for a few years now – it was her absolute favourite. It was steel, which wasn’t the most effective against monsters, and only single edged; Geralt didn’t approve of that limitation. However it was super long, curving a little bit near the end, a long handle made for comfortable grip. Her favorite part was that the sword was enchanted, and it would sometimes set the enemies on fire.

The Wolf, on the other hand, was silver. A gift from Geralt, hence the name. It was shorter than Carabella, and double edged. The handle was shorter, which helped having a stronger grip and better control. It was also enchanted, but Y/N wasn’t sure with what, as the witcher never confessed.

The pair were getting worried looks from the people, so the girl sheathed her weapons again, her eyes hungry for an adventure. Jaskier sighed, knowing too well that she will go with or without him. Reluctantly, he rose from the table, keeping his gaze on the woman, as she smiled, jumping up too. Bard helped her strap her steel sword on her back, and silver one on her side.

They left the tavern, Y/N throwing a pouch of coins to pay for their drinks.

The evening was warm, and the sun was highlighting the small village. A few pigs walked by, oinking at the pair. It was a peaceful day, the breeze barely picking up. Jaskier started at Y/N, wondering how he ever got so lucky as to meet someone like her.

Not only did she look beautiful in this light, she was painfully not aware of it. Her heart was one of the kindest he met, and her smile truly lit up his world. He could be caught dead staring at her, admiring the way she does practically anything; to say he was enticed with her wouldn’t do it justice. And whenever their eyes would meet, Jaskier would feel truly seen. Not for being a simple bard, or the great master bard, as some called him. She saw the deepest corners of his soul, not ever even trying to judge him.

She felt the same about him. He wasn’t there to judge her, or to scold her about how her sword skills are not ‘lady like’. She practically never wore dresses, and Jaskier didn’t seem to mind. They accepted each other truly, and in this lovely evening, they were comfortable in the silence between them.

They left the village behind, going towards the woods. Wolfs howled somewhere far, but Y/N hand still hoovered over her trusty Carabella.

“I will protect you.” She teased Jaskier, who rolled his eyes in response.

“I can protect myself just fine.” He argued, knowing full well that he couldn’t.

“Against a pack of wolves?” She lowered her hand from her sword, grinning. “I’d like to see that.”

“What, your favorite bard torn to pieces?” They both laughed, gazing ahead at the woods they were now in.

They both knew there was a cave here, but Jaskier wasn’t sure that it was where Y/N wanted them to go and explore. Geralt has warned them against it, apparently it’s occupied by a big angry cyclops.  If anything, that intrigued the girl, as these monsters were just big and stupid.

Once the woods covered them, they started walking slower, paying attention to their surroundings. You never know what lurks in these woods, just to be safe, the girl placed her hand on her silver weapon, walking closer to her friend.

“Isn’t this exciting?” She whispered, as Jaskier shot her an anxious glare, which she didn’t see.

“I don’t doubt your abilities, but no, this isn’t fun.” She scoffed, grabbing Jaskier’s hand with her free one. This send a blush to bards face.

“Does this make it better?” She teased, not glancing at the bard – hiding heat hitting her own cheeks.

“Sure.” Jask mumbled under his breath, not sure if she could even hear him.

But it didn’t matter, as they stopped, standing in front of a big opening. Jaskier felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he could not see a thing inside, but he heard some rumbling deep down. Looking at his friend, however, he saw nothing but excitement.

Y/N always had a knack for adventures.

She knew Jaskier would be weary, scared even. She also knew he will follow her, so fully readying Wolf for battle, she stepped into the darkness, her hand letting go of Jask. She felt a tinge of hesitation, but soon adrenaline washed over her, and she calmed.

Unlike witcher, she didn’t have heightened senses, nor did she have any potions that could help her see, but she stepped bravely. Soon enough, she heard stumbling behind hear, and a second person joined her. A bright, but dangerous idea struck her.

“Jaskier.” She whispered, not sure where he was in the dark.

“Yeah?” He was closer than she expected, making her flinch. She took her Wolf in the other hand, pulling out Carabella carefully.

“I want you to take Carabella, so be careful now.” She grew weary about handing him the sword blindly. “When we meet the cyclops, hit it if you see an opening, but be careful. The sword might set in on fire, providing us some light.”

“I can’t handle a sword!” He argued, still whispering. The woman sighed, nudging him. Jaskier understood her strategy, but still wasn’t eager to go with it, but his hand still lingered over where he thought the sword would be. His hand landed on hers. “Sorry.”

“’Tis okay.” Y/N mumbled, making sure he has a good grip on the sword. “The sharp side is facing left now, but it doesn’t matter. You stay back, only hit the thing if it’s safe. I’ll take care of it.”

“In the absolute darkness.” Anxiety rushed over her, but she rolled her eyes, even if the bard couldn’t see it, he knew that’s what she did.

“We’ll be fine.” She said, and she had to believe her words. Y/N was sure of one thing, she would sooner drop dead than allow anyone to hurt the bard by her side.

They ventured into the darkness, towards the noise. They took their time, allowing their sight to adjust, and soon enough ahead she saw a big shadow. Part of her wondered now, if she should duel-wield, leaving Jaskier out of danger; the thing was way bigger than she imagined.

But it was too late, as the thing probably spotted them too.

Jaskier was aware of how much hatred these things had for humans, but when it roared, he felt like running away. Holding Carabella with his shaky hands was his only defense, as well as some knowledge to avoid them.

“If it charges, duck to the side.” Y/N mumbled quickly, going around the circular cave, leaving Jask stuck in his spot. “Never try to run from it, you wont outrun this thing. But it is stupid, so roll, dodge, whatever, to the side.”

“Okay.” Jaskeir said, but they both noted he didn’t sound confident. A shadow of regret was looming over the girl, as she peeled her gaze from Jask-shadow, to their enemy in front.

Before the beast could figure out which one of them to rush, Y/N rolled in, aiming Wolf right at it’s calf. It yelled, slapping the ground – she barely avoided its fist. A cloud of dust made her vision even worse, as she stumbled back.

She heard Jaskier yell, fear striking her. She was yet to be aware that he was readying himself for his attack. He rushed the thing, barely grazing it, but the Carabella did what it does best, it set the beast on flame.

No, not the cyclops itself, but the shacks it was wearing.

Y/N vision unclouded, and she wished it didn’t, as she saw the burning cyclops loom over her. Her hands trembled, as the one eye stared at her. The cyclops had a scarred face, clearly broken and badly healed bones too. How many fights did this thing win, she later wondered. Now all she could do was stare at it’s balding head.

Only when Jaskier striked again, hitting the cyclops with the blunt end, she sprung to her feet, cutting it’s legs. In the corner of her eye, she saw petrified Jaskier stare at his sword. The clothes it was wearing were almost done burning, meaning their light was literally fading.

“Jaskier!” Her voice powered over the cyclops, who was yet to turn around. “Give me Carabella, now!”

“But..” the bard wanted to argue, but Y/N rushed to him, sheathing Wolf, grabbing the steel weapon. She winked at the bard, as if to reassure him things will be okay. He doubted either of them believed it.

With the last flames still intact, and the cyclops now facing them, Y/N waved the sword, running to the side, just as cyclops charged. Jaskier barely avoided it, but the girl wasn’t sure if he did, as a new dust cloud covered the air, last flames going out.

She attacked the thing, betting that her pure rage and fear that the bard might’ve been hurt will carry her through. And it did, after her fifth hit, the thing set ablaze again, but this time it was cyclops itself.

That send the beast on a rampage, as it started hitting anything and everything. The cave started to rumble, as the beast managed to land a hit on Y/N. She flew a few meters back, landing on her feet still. Her eyes finally met terrified Jaskier, who was running towards her.

She signaled him to go towards the exit, but cyclops had a similar idea. She saw that the thing was using its last braincell, targeting the only way out. Now she knew she would have to distract it.

“Go! I’ll catch up.” She yelled through the noise, taking Wolf out. She knew it was time to duel-wield.

Jaskier wanted to rush to help her, but he also knew he would be a distraction; so he listened to her, bolting for an exit as soon as he got an opening. He glanced back, to see his friend strike the beast with both swords, setting in on fire anew.

Then her beautiful figure appeared behind him, rushing towards him like a deer. The cave was moments from collapsing, he was sure of it, and they still had a long way to go.

With their lungs on fire, they raced to the exit, and out of sheer panic, once they were close, Jaskier launched himself on the girl, sending them flying out of the cave. He seemed to forget that she was wielding two swords, not thinking that they might get stabbed.

Luckily, she dropped the weapons out of sheer shock of getting sent flying. Part of her thought it was the cyclops, but once she nearly faceplanted, and Jaskier dropped on top of her, she knew it was the bard. She couldn’t help but let out a laugh, as the bard grunted on top of her.

“Not funny.” He managed, finally lifting the weight of the girl, who rolled around.

She saw a couple of scratches on Jaskier’s face, but nothing serious. Her heart eased, as she continued laying down, staring at him.

“You did well.” She finally complimented him, as he blushed, still pretending to be angry. “This was fun.”

“Fun?” Jaskier used air-quotations, making Y/N giggle, as she started at him. The sun has began to set and the most beautiful colors shined on this bard and she wanted to take it in. “The cave almost buried us alive.”

“Hey, we had plenty of time.” Y/N argued, gently nudging the bard, who let out a sigh. “It’s still standing.”

With that, the cave seemed to want to prove her wrong; it collapsed before she could even finish the sentence. The sound was horrible, but at least she was sure any wolves got scared away. Somewhere inside, they heard the cyclops wail, until it disappeared, as the ground shook. It send a dust cloud their way.

They both covered their eyes, staring at was once cave entrance. There was a wave of laughter that seemed to hit them both, as they both lent back, laughing.

It echoed, until silence struck between them and the dust settled. The swords were nearly crushed by the rubble, but neither Y/N, nor Jaskier seemed to care about it, as they gazed at each other, smiles on their faces.

“You saved me.” Y/N softly spoke, as the bard leaned in.

“What do you mean?” Jaskier asked, genuinely confused. All he knew was that he hit a cyclops – with the wrong side of the Carabella, and in his head that didn’t sound like help.

“I was blinded from the dust, when you caught it on fire.” She explained, gently placing her hands on his. “The thing probably would’ve crushed me, if you didn’t distract it and give me some light.”

“Well,” Jaskier puffed his chest, winking at Y/N, “then you owe me one, my lady.”

“How about this.”

Y/N leaned in, landing a kiss on the bards lips. It took him by surprise, making his heart miss a few beats, and then it tried to catch up to it -beating faster than he could manage. But when she pulled away, he was hungry for more, but too shy to ask.

She took her gaze from him, now shy, staring at her swords. They reflected the sunset nearly blinding her. Jaskier squeezed her hands.

“Should I pay back for all the times you saved me?” Jaskier managed to flirt, as Y/N looked at him, a laugh escaping her lips.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She winked at Jaskier. “I also take interest, since you are late on your payments.”

“I think I’ll manage.” Jaskier smiled, leaning in for another kiss.

The sun casted a shadow of a man behind them, that they were yet to notice. Geralt stared at the entrance, not really interested in his friends making out.

He was supposed to go in and slay the beast. Now the whole thing has caved in.

“Fuck.” Geralt muttered, lowering his sword.

#jaskier requests #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier one shot #jaskier fluff??? angst?? #idk #also i take ages to get to requests #woohoo im great writer #yeehaaaawww

[mother-snake]

promised story 1-

(this one is an origional and first chapter to a book im going over at  the minuet, any constructive critisism would be nice and anything you liked about or didnt like would be good for me so i can perhapse change certain things in future!) -if you guys like it enough i might post the other chapters as i work along them. and if youd like, i can tagg you in!-

UNLOCKED: kurbose words: 3641 warnings: small fight thing happens at begining.

chapter 2-  n/a

chapter 1 -I will eat this sandwich; fate just has other plans.

At least crows don’t judge people for doing the bizarre things they do, I suppose. For example; the fact that I was sitting down on top of the rather worn-down churches roof that lay in the dead centre of the village, slowly turning into a town. Very slowly... I’d blame me getting up here on my habit of using my, not so useful, skill of getting into trouble; but in all honesty that excuse’ became unreliable since the tenth time I’d deliberately made my way up here. Not that I minded much.

Ten or so crows were lined on either side of me cawing loudly at one another trying to get closer, hoping that they could snag some of the sandwich I was eating. It had been wrapped up and stayed in my pocket since the morning. I had always left then in the early hours and barely came back until nightfall. the murder was slowly becoming more and more agitated as they looked at the sandwich with a keen eye.

lunch I had to skip due to them… I don’t mean the birds of course. not the birds. Never. Ever. blame the birds.

the night air was always calming. The stars seemed to look down upon me with a curious gaze, as if asking why I was still in the melancholy village. Living in such a boring place for years. sometimes it felt like hundreds of eyes were on me. that’s why I always sat on top of the roof. And when I did, I couldn’t help but feel a form of freedom I couldn’t get anywhere else. Mayhaps that was because I wasn’t supposed to be up there in the first place. Alas. We shall never know.

sure, some people would enjoy the normal life. Not worrying about what would be around the corner. But I I’m not like that, when it’s all you know. You’d wish for something to change.

I surveyed the area in my line of vision. It was slowly becoming dark enough that everything was blending together. But I could still see the outlines of everything. the sound of the canal that split the village up in sections was only a couple streets away.

I could recognise some of the people lined up by their houses getting the final things ready. And those who were wondering the streets were making their ways home. it was fairly easy to remember everyone in the town. No one really moved here, and if they did, they would mostly stay till they were old and grey.

One of the many people I could see from where I was is Miss hazel. I could see her picking some of the herbs and flowers for her medicines and potions. She was our physician much to many traveller’s surprise.

Then there was Mr. jackal who was sitting on his doorstep. A small wooden pipe in hand, a faint smoke ring coming from the pipe. Sometimes I felt that I’d never seen him going anywhere without it.

The brother and sister, Lawrence and Catherine were running after one another, up and down the street below. They were five and seven. Catherine being the eldest. She was very much a saint in many eyes. Learning how to climb into small places for things we had lost.

Her brother Lawrence had been practicing magic as far as anyone knew. He was getting better as the year continued to pass. He had started in early spring and not seemed to have stopped since. He had a wizard’s soul, that’s for sure. Only one in thousands seemed to appear.

Mrs. Evelyn was looking around the streets from one of her windows waving down to everyone, looking up and spotting me, I gave a quick wave back. I couldn’t hear her but I could tell she was laughing as a crow hopped up onto my lap and stole a slither of meat from my sandwich.

Sometimes it was nice to see a familiar face, but when you know practically everyone who walks the street daily. It can get rather boring, their conversations tended to repeat with nothing interesting happening most of the time.

I was cut from my thoughts by an annoyingly familiar clink of something hitting the roof grabbed my attention. I quickly wrapped my sandwich back in its paper bag and placed it into my cardigans pocket. I turned my attention to the gutter, a small sharp stone that hadn’t been there before laid on top of some moss.

The murder realising what was going to happen fluttered away in a frenzy, cawing in disarray. Not wanting to be caught in the stupidity that laid below me in the church garden.

Preparing myself as best as I could, I looked around and caught sight of the gargoyle sitting perched slightly off from where I was positioned. If I miss this, well… I either die or break my legs.

The gargoyle itself had a monstrous face, baring fanged teeth and its wings spread out, poised to strike. another rock landed near my position. deciding to take the risk, I pushed myself slightly in the direction of the beast. landing with a small thud behind it, I let out a breath. Two more stones were thrown in my direction, the sound of them rolling onto the gutter caused me to flinch.

They were too close. One thing I could say is that the people below were getting better at their aim and way of throwing.

There was a slight warmth coming from the gargoyle, they were in hibernation. They would remove the stone shell around them late into the spring most likely. But they were still aware of what was happing around them. “sorry Mr gargoyle, I hope you can forgive me for using you as a shield…again,” I muttered as I sat behind it. it was hard to keep myself completely hidden. My height being the main reason. Why on this planet did I have to be one of the tallest people. Why? What reason was there for someone to be over six feet? What reason was there?

A couple more stones landed on the roof. I grumbled to myself and peaked over the wing, trying my best to be as careful as possible.

A rock soared over my head causing me to duck slightly. A small part of me was proud. That was the closest they’d gotten in a long time. After all this had been a weekly routine for a while now. A bit inconvenient when trying to eat. But at least it kept my somewhat self-preservation skills usable.

A small cackle came from down below. I rolled my eyes. If only they were as smart as their egos. Their rich snobbish attitudes had been like this for years.

“is poor goliath too scared to come down?” Jonathan yelled; the noise being muffled by the distance. “sorry! It’s not my fault I’m allergic to social interaction” I hollered back; I peeked back over the wing, slightly thankful for the small heat it gave off the cold winter air biting my exposed skin. Wearing knee length shorts in winter is not advised for a reason. That’s the joy of being a dysfunctional mess such as myself.

Anyways, as I peeked over the first thing, I could see was his obnoxiously blonde hair, it was almost three shades close to white. I would have easily called it fake if it wasn’t for the fact that I hadn’t grown up with him. the blonde hair was held in a ponytail today.

My eyes also caught sight of the two figures standing either side of Jonathan. Both recognisable by the way they looked. the ginger on his left was always known for her seemingly endless collection of silk blue dresses. Each one would have cost my family a year’s worth of food.

Then the boy on his right was a lavante, he had been one of the few to move here. His species are known for the fact their basically living lava, skin ossified by the oxygen. His eyes were pools of red lava. His hair was like living fire. the older they got, the bluer their hair became.

He looked a bit conflicted to what they were doing. He always did. We were mutual friends. He gave a weak smile and waved. To be honest I forgot his name years ago… too late to ask now.

“you’ll come down eventually!” blue dress screeched as she readied to throw a stone in her hand.

“you underestimate my pettiness, I've got food in my pocket, I could stay up here longer that you could down there!" I yelled back; my pettiness was something barely anyone was able to match.

Seeing her pull her arm back to throw, I ducked myself behind the wing one more time. soon one after another, a barrage of rocks was being thrown my way. one sailed over my head; I could feel the air move as it ruffled my hair. It rolled down and landed by my foot. I picked it up and threw it back as possible.

I looked down to my other pocket. reaching in I pulled out a bronze pocket watch. The lid had long since came off, according to my dad it was the day he met my mother. I chuckled to myself as I remembered the story.

 “what on earth do you think you’re doing?!” I sighed in relief as the voice of the father reached my ears; even if the malice in his voice sent small shivers down my spine.

Is wrath being something to fear. They could try anything they wanted. But as soon as the father got involved then they were very much screwed over.

I tuned out the shouting down below me, sitting in a better way that made my lanky legs sigh in relief. I looked into the gargoyles eyes and mouthed a quick thank you.

As the noise went silent, I looked over the wing to see them walking away out the garden and back to whence they came, a wave of ease flooded over me. At least I would be home in time. Hopefully.

I stood up, stretching and listening my bones crack as I did so. Clapping my hands together I turned around and climbed back onto the top of the roof struggling to get a grip as I did so. I shakily stood up, trying to balance myself in hopes I didn’t fall over.

I walked over to the edge of the building, I crouched down and grabbed the rope I had long ago tied to the building. holding on as tight as possible, knuckles going white in the process, I swung my body over the edge. The rope swayed from the motion. I wrapped my legs around the rope, hoping and praying I didn’t mess this up. taking a deep breath, I let slightly let loose of the rope. Gravity swiftly dragging me down, the rope slightly burning my skin in the process.

I quickly held onto the rope tighter as the ground came too close for comfort. it was that moment father Francis turned the corner. I gave a nervous chuckle as my body hung in the air. “what are you doing,” he groaned. “you know, just hanging around,” I responded, getting a smack on the back of the head causing me to spin slightly in the air.

Planting my feet firmly on the ground, I stood up and rubbed my hands on my shirt, getting rid of the small amounts of dust and mud that clung to them.

He began to walk away, waving for me to follow. I jogged to keep up as best as possible. He didn’t say much anymore. But he was one of the best people in my mind. before he had joined the church, he had been working in the north. He had been one of my inspirations growing up. the stories he told about dragons and monsters he had seen had filled m wonder and desire to see what was beyond here.

People would joke around that the reason he had grey hairs was because of me. I didn’t blame them really. “sorry about that father Francis… again…” I sighed as I averted my gaze. he let out a small chuckle and patted my back, “only a gentle giant like you could hie instead of bashing them in,” he gestured for me to begin moving, “only you goliath.” “why won’t you let that die?” I muttered. he let out another laugh. “I’ll walk you back to your home, make sure you dad knows that they were back again,” there were very few things that could make me shiver, but having my family know about this was one of them. “or, you don’t tell them?” he only gave a deadpanned look in response. I wasn’t getting out of it.

It withing a minuet we were out the garden and onto the streets. The greys and browns of the buildings seemingly blending together in the darkness. we walked in silence turning when needed. The sound of the canal getting closer. brass lamps were lined neatly on each side of the streets. Fireflies the size of a grown adult’s hand laid inside, buzzing away to one another. the people in their homes slowly turning of their lights in hopes of falling asleep. I’d never understood why it was always this time of night that they locked everything up. weather it was a habit or just a bizarre timing factor.

I reached up to my hair and pulled down the bobble keeping my hair up in a simple ponytail. My brown locks dropped down to my sides. I ran my hands through my hair grumbling. I stumbled for second after tripping on a rock. Barely stopping myself from tumbling over.

 The darker and closer we got to my home; the more noises filled the air. Small neon bugs lit up houses and other buildings. Small mice with glowing whiskers would scuttle past us as quickly as possible. The vibrant colours would almost leave a blur in their trail, making them easy to spot in the dark.

Small groups of night birds flocked around piles of litter left by merchants that had been wandering the streets. Nibbling or defending pieces of food, or guarding small shiny things they found on the ground. Like children defending their own things.

So much happened in the night, so much happened and I only get to see a portion of the neon lights, I wished I could have seen more sometimes.

Soon we were out of the main village turning town and making our way down a mud and stone covered path towards the farm.

 Soon enough, but not long enough to gather my thoughts and mentally prepare myself. we arrived at a metal gate surrounding what looked like a nearly collapsing house. I stepped forwards and opened the rusty gate, the hinges creaking with the movement. I had been needing to oil them for a while and had been putting it off for around two weeks now.

The house looked barely liveable. The roof looked both old and new in patches. the chimney looked cracked and ready to fall on the house. the porches roof looked close to caving in as well.

But sill it was home. I took a deep breath and made my way forward towards the door. Hoping with every fibre of my being they were all asleep by now for the sake of my sanity.

As I got closer, the porch light flickered before turning on completely and giving off a small hum. A small dread filling up. the light could only be turned on from the inside after all.

I quickly checked the time on the pocket watch. Oh… I was late. Not too late, but just enough that I was going to get chewed out at most.

The door swung open. A figure walked out and stood in the doorframe with an icy glare directed at me. “where have you been?” yeah, I wasn’t going to survive. the figure let out a sigh, “come in, you will have some explaining to do whilst Eric gets you both some tea.” “sorry for being late…again miles,” I chuckled as I rubbed the back of my neck.

He steppe bac and walked into the house. I let father Francis go in front of me as we made our way inside. I would have taken my shoes of if I had worn them today. I gave a small weak smile to Francis. If it were my dad that we had been greeted with he would have to only stay for five minutes. The twins on the other hand were another story… they had been like this for as long as I could remember. They had always been protective of me. I was sixteen. Yes, it was strange but the reason behind why they were so overprotective is a story for another time.

The entrance was small. Barely able to fit the three of us. Miles made his way up to the first couple steps on the staircase to give more room. I looked to the right; the lights were off witch was probably to save energy. I made my way into the left room. The fireplace warmed up the room, relaxing my body compared to the cold nipping air that was outside.

There was a figure identical to miles, the only difference being their hair partings. They had both their own unique skills, that was one other way to tell their differences.

The cardigan that I was wearing was knitted by Eric. It was at that moment I remembered what was in its pocket. I quickly reached down and pulled out a slightly squashed paper wrapped sandwich and sighed, putting it on the kitchen table that was one wrong move away from losing a leg.

The door at the back of the room shuttered. Looks like it was going to be a long night. the room was slightly crammed, but I didn’t mind that much.

Pulling out a chair and sitting down, I looked over to where the twins were arguing silently. miles had his parting on the left, the smaller part was cut off, it was the same for Eric except with his parting on the right. their hair was an inky black. they glanced over in my direction as I took a bite out of my crushed sandwich.

Red and green heterochromia. One eye green, the other a blood red.

“so, what are you two thinking about?” I said before taking another bite. “why we put up with your antics every day,” miles deadpanned at me. “you love me. That’s why,” I grinned as they sighed. “you’re ten minutes late Charlie, where have you been,” a voice forms the entrance. I looked up to see a scruffy looking man and grinned, “hey pops. And I think the pocket watch may be on the fritz again if that’s the case. It says I should be on time.” “either way, may I ask why the father is currently in our home? Again.”

“Jonathan and the other two again, I simply came to make sure she got home safely instead of running off.”

 They began to talk, leaving me to my own devices. The sandwich that had only one or two more bites worth lay on the table. A half-drunk cup of tea next to it.

Standing up and cracking by back, I made my way past the gossips and made my way to the living room. The light now on as dumbass one and two sat on the floor with cards.

Falling on the sofa backwards, the two who were absorbed in their game gave a little squeak and flung back. I let out a chuckle and stared at them with a curious look as the grumbled curses and words that would put sailors to shame.

“so, what has caused you to grace us with your company?” “if you were in the room with those two gossips, you would leave after a while too.”

Eric laughed and reached his hand over to the small wooden table in the middle of the room. “shift over goliath,” Eric muttered pushing me up. I swung my legs from the arm of the sofa and crossed my legs as I felt a pair of hands running down my hair before getting caught in a knot.

“I swear your hair is worse than ours on a good day,” he groaned before he began to brush my hair. “you do know I could do this on my own, right?” I said. “yeah, but it’s not like I’ve got much else to do in the first place.”

It was another fifteen minutes before I heard the noise in the kitchen slowly rise into the room. the three of us looked between one another with concern. They hadn’t fought before as far as we knew.

“she can’t know!” the voice I could clearly tell was my dad yelled. “she needs to know sooner or later, the sooner the better.”

I stood up from the sofa and slipped into the hall and peaked my head into the room. I could see my father’s face, eyebrows knitted together and eyes glaring at the father. His knuckled white from gripping the cup.

“look, I get why you don’t want to. But all your doing is speeding up the inevitable.” “I know… I’ll tell her soon. I promise.”

I walked into the room and locked gaze with my dad, “or you could tell me now instead of hiding it.”

“how much did you hear,” his face paled. “enough.”

#three book project #my side of the bet pt 1 #ill try and get a fanfiction written for wednesday #otherwise it will most likely be chapter 2 #origional stroy #unlocked kurbose #charlie scarlet #miles scarlet #father francis #eric scarlet #origional charachters! #not the book im planning now #i hope you enjoy!

[thecleverdame]

Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Six

Series Master List

Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo

Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.

Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.

Words: 40k

Beta:  ilikaicalie

This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Van Tassel House - Sam’s Room

Sam is startled awake, frightened and sweating. He lies in bed staring at the ceiling wrapped in the darkness of the night. There’s a candle flickering beside the bed almost completely burned down to the chamberstick and the smell of sweet salve, it’s a tell-tale sign. Dean must’ve dressed his head wound. He gingerly touches his forehead, wincing when he gets close to the gash and shakes sleep away.

It’s dark outside the window. The fall from the horse knocked him for a loop but now he’s able-bodied and not sure he’ll be able to sleep any more. He gets up, dresses and heads out to explore the house at night.

Entering the kitchen, he sets his lantern on the table and sits down to open his father’s ledger. It’s only as he settles in that he notices a faint light coming from down the hall. -

Most nights you retreat to the sewing room. There’s no one about the house at this hour and your bedroom can often feel like a prison. So after everyone is asleep you sit by the fire and read until the early hours of the morning.

You don’t hear Sam approaching, he’s quiet as a mouse until the door creaks open and you nearly jump out of your skin. For a moment you think it’s your stepmother, only to be met with the face of the handsome Constable.

Slapping the book closed and tucking it in beside you in the chair, you sit at attention, watching him inch inside the door. “You scared me nearly half to death.” “Pardon my intrusion. I saw a light.” He smiles softly, a wonderful, gentle smile you wouldn’t expect from such a beast of a man.

“It is no intrusion. I come here to read when sleep eludes me.” You can’t help but feel a thrill as he steps closer. “Will you sit with me, Constable Winchester?”

You pat the sofa beside you, watching as he bites his bottom lip. He bows his head in confirmation, then he takes a seat.

“How would your fiance’ feel about you being alone with me?” Sam asks, awaiting the answer with bated breath. He cannot deny his interest in you, especially to himself.

“I believe I told you Brom had proposed, not that I ever accepted.” Looking him over you scoot to the side, making more room. “I would expect more attention to detail from a man of the law, Constable.” “You must call me Sam,” he offers, leaning close to get a better view of the volume you hid away. “You come here to read books which you must hide?” he grins, tilting his head to read the spine of the book in question. “The Knights of the Round Table...isn’t that for children?” “Not everything is as it appears.” You pick up the large book, taking another, smaller volume from inside. “It was my mother’s book. My father frowned at them when they were hers, he would frown at me now. He believes tales of romance caused the brain fever that killed my mother. She died two years ago come midwinter.” Sam nods, “I am very sorry. I saw it written in the front of the family bible.” “The nurse who cared for her during her sickness is the new Lady Van Tassel.” “There was something else too.” Sam can’t stop the investigator inside him.  “Why did no one think to mention that Van Garretts are kit and kin to the Van Tassels?”

“Why because there is hardly a household in Sleepy Hollow that is not connected to every other by blood or marriage. I have more cousins than fingers and toes to count them on.” That thought seems to amuse him, cheeks rounding, dimples appearing. “What?”

“Dean is all the family I have the world.” He looks up, his eyes lingering for a moment too long.

A cock crows outside, dawn is coming soon.

“This land was Van Garrett Land, given to my father when I was in swaddling clothes,” you continue, eager to find any reason to keep him with you. Enjoying this sweet moment of privacy. “Given by the dead Van Garrett?” he inquires. “Yes,” you nod. “The Van Garretts were the richest family around these parts even then. When my father brought us to Sleepy Hollow, Van Garrett set him up with an acre, a broken-down cottage, and a dozen Van Garrett hens. My father prospered and built us a new house. I owe my happiness to him. I remember living poor in the cottage. Would you like to see it? I could take you there.” “Yes. I would like to see where you were as poor as I am.” He grins, unnaturally handsome and you want nothing more than to throw yourself at him.

Sam stands to leave and you stand too, revealing the book you had been reading. You give it a final look before handing it to him.

“Take this. It is my gift to you, Sam.” He carefully takes it from you, big hands curling around the spine as he reads the title: A Compendium of Spells, Charms, and Devices of the Spirit World. “I am grateful for the gift, but perhaps you should keep it. I have no use for it.” He steps closer to hand it back. “Are you so certain of everything?” You look at him, purposely holding his stare.

He inspects it, opening the cover and flipping to the back. There’s your name but in different handwriting is also the name Elizabeth Van Tassel.

“This was your mother’s?” He looks up, surprised.

“Keep it close to your heart.” You inch closer, nearer than you should be. “It is sure protection against harm.” His eyes narrow, looking from you to the book. “Are you so certain of everything?” “Almost always…” you whisper, tiling your head toward him like a plant hungry for the sun.

His lips meet yours in a single, longing kiss as his hand curls around your arm. He lingers for a fleeting moment, nuzzling his nose into your cheek before pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “I should go. It’s almost dawn and the staff will be waking. Being caught together as day breaks would certainly stir rumors.”

“I’ve never cared what people say about me.” You swim in the feeling of the kiss as he backs away.

“I will see you soon, Y/N.”

Sleepy Hollow Farmland

You and Sam make a pretty picture on horseback, riding slowly toward the ruins of the cottage you lived in as a child.

“I saw the photos on your desk,” you mention casually, watching him ride beside you. “Are they your family?”

“Yes, people I have lost.” He offers you a forced smile, hand tightening around the reigns. “My parents and someone I cared for.”

“A lost love?” you ask gently and he nods. “Did you lose her recently?”

“No, it was ten years ago now. But if I’m honest there are days when it feels as if no time has passed at all.”

“The heart heals slowly. There are days when I forget my mother is gone. Just this morning I had a fleeting thought. I wanted to tell her how excited I was to bring you here, only to remember that she is gone.”

“I know those moments as well.” He slows his horse as you approach the cottage. There’s almost nothing left but the hearth and part of a crumbling chimney.

Sam dismounts, turning to offer you a hand and help you off your horse. There’s a thrill at the feeling of his hands on yours and you’re about to let go when you notice little scars on his palm. You take his hand between your own, running your thumbs over the little dimples.

“These are strange,” you look up to him. “What are they?”   “I wish I knew. I’ve had them since I can remember.”

You inspect him for a moment longer, before taking his hand into yours and leading him into the ruins of the cottage. Sam's attention is caught by a red cardinal on a branch, much like the bird he had in New York. He reflects a moment, then turns to watch you crouching by the hearth. You look back at him, threading the stem of a flower into your hair. “I used to play by this hearth. It was my first drawing school and my mother was my teacher.” Unwittingly, you’re mimicking Sam's dream. You pick up a twig and start drawing on the hearthstone, just as his mother did. His blood runs cold but you’re unaware of the effect it’s having on him. Then he notices the few small wildflowers growing in the old fireplace and feels short of breath, leaning against the stones for support. “Oh, look! I'd forgotten this.” You smile. “See, carved into the fire-back, the Archer.” Using your fingers you clean off the dirt around a simple carving of a man with a Bow and Arrow. “This was from long before we lived here.” You look to Sam, who’s pale as a ghost. “Are you alright?” He nods but says nothing. You’re about to press him when you spot the cardinal too.

“Look there!” you point. “They are my favorite. I would love to have a tame one, but I wouldn't have the heart to cage him. “Then I have something for you.” Sam unslings his satchel, watching your face light up. You’re too beautiful and vibrant a creature to be stuck in a dark place like Sleepy Hollow.

It’s a paper disk with a red bird on one side and an empty cage on the other. Both ends of the disk are pierced by a looped string so that the disk can spin and twist. It was his mother’s gift to him many years ago.

“Come here, let me show you.” He steps behind you, indulging as he presses his chest into your back, arms reaching around your waist. You hum to life at the sensation of his large body curled over yours.

“A cardinal on one side, and an empty cage on the other.” You watch with bated breath as he spins the disk. “And now…” Once he moves it fast enough the bird appears to be inside the cage. You’re thrilled and excited, tilting back to look up at him. “You can do magic! Teach me!” “It is not magic. It’s optics,” he chuckles, lowering his mouth to the side of your head, he’s close enough you can feel his breath on your temple.  Sam gives you the toy and shows you how to spin it. “Separate pictures which become one when the picture spins. Like the truth which I must spin here.” He steps away, shifting to the side and watching while you spin the disk, the bird appears in the cage. “I may keep it?”

“Of course.” He confirms. “I’d give you anything you asked for to see you smile like this.”

His words send a flush to your cheeks and the disk in your hands is momentarily forgotten as you gaze at the handsome man before you.

“Anything?” you ask coyly.

“Anything.” His stare is unyielding, eyes fixed on yours.

“Another kiss?” you inquire, only to have him swooping down to pull you into his arms and his mouth close over your own. There’s a desperate passion that was not there this morning. This kiss stokes a fire in your belly, fanning the flame that his touch sparked in the sewing room.

You moan softly into his mouth, only to have him take advantage as his tongue slides past your lips, gliding, plunging, delving deeper and deeper until you’re breathless.

Before you know what’s happening his hand is on your stomach, pushing you back until you’re flush with the hearth, trapped between cold stone and the heat of his body. He pulls away with a pop, only to move down your jaw, drawing a breathless mewl from your lungs as he nips and sucks at the skin of your neck.

“Touch me,” you pant, fisting your hands in his hair.

Sam doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s wanted to kiss you, to ravage every inch of you, since the first moment he saw you. It’s a desire that’s only grown with time. He groans against the hot, sweating skin in the crook of your neck as his hand finds its way under your dress.

When his knuckles meet the soft skin of your thighs you gasp in response, pressing forward into his touch. Two fingers brush over the thatch of hair at your sex, scooping forward until he finds warm, wet flesh. You must want him as much as he desires you because you’re thoroughly slick.

“Sam,” you moan, spurring him on as those fingers thrust upward into the tightness of your channel. His thumb goes in search of your delicate pearl, sliding back and forth until you nearly squeal, two hands grabbing at his back confirming he’s found his target.

You can feel him inside you, two thick fingers thrusting in and out as he rubs your bud, bringing a wash of pleasure and wanton lust over every inch of you. You can also hear it, the sound of your sex taking his fingers and then the sensation of his mouth biting across the swell of your breasts.

If Sam had any less self-control he’d throw you to the ground and rip this ridiculous dress right off you. He’d fuck you here in the dirt, but he won’t. A woman as sweet as you deserves things like a bed and mattress.

He can feel it when you cum. You whimper, desperate cunt tightening around his knuckles, little sucking clenches that draw him deeper until you’re boneless in his grasp.

He pulls his hand from between your legs, sullied fingers on your throat as he hooks both hands under your jaw and kisses you again and again, swallowing every gasp and sigh until you’re lost in his mouth and his touch.

You spend the better part of the morning enthralled with each other, gentle touches and passionate kisses until the sun rises high overhead and you have no choice but to return home.

#sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester au