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adzeisval · 10 months

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Tragedy

(Izzy's tragic childhood story, this is going to be very very sad. TW for child death.)

Israel Hands was small for his age. He was nearly thirteen but his ten year old brother, Jacob, was already a few inches taller than him. He tried to make up for his size by being a hard worker.

Israel and Jacob were working with their father at the docks, doing odd jobs and running messages and doing whatever small task the men needed done as the men unloaded the ships.

Israel was standing in the shade, resting for a moment when something hit him on the back of the head.

“Wake up Israel!” Jacob laughed.

“That hurt, you ass!” Israel yelled.

“Aww I was just bringing you a treat!” Jacob pouted. Israel looked at what had hit him; an apple. He picked it up and cleaned it off on his shirt. Normally he would have devoured it on sight but…his stomach had been a bit sour all day.

“You don’t want my present?” Jacob asked, “You little shit.”

“Boys! Jacob, what did I just hear coming out of your mouth?”

“A swear word but papa Israel cursed too!”

“Did you curse Israel?”

“Yes papa,” Israel said.

“I won’t stand for that kind of language and you both know it,” he said sternly then, softer, “Are you feeling alright Israel?”

“I feel ill,” Israel admitted.

Papa came and put his hand on Israel’s forehead and sighed, “You have a fever. Run on home and tell mom to start some broth, I’m not feeling well either to be honest. Then do as she says which probably means get in bed.”

“Yes papa,” Israel said

Israel made his way a few blocks to their small two room home. His sisters, Hannah and Sarah were playing with dolls on the hearth while his mom bounced baby Seth on her hip while stirring a pot.

“Israel? What’s wrong baby?”

“I’m feeling ill, father too. He asked for you to make some broth.”

“You should probably get into bed, Israel,” Mama said.

Israel got into bed and wrapped himself up as tightly as he could. Within the hour he was shaking and his nose was stuffed and he started to cough.

Israel was vaguely aware that his mother was caring for him, that she was worried and that Papa and Seth were getting sick as well. Israel felt like he was burning, he felt like something heavy was sitting on his chest. He’d never felt so ill in his entire life.

Time passed. Israel couldn’t be sure how much time, but then a doctor and their priest came in and spent a lot of time with Papa and a little with him. He couldn’t focus on what was being said but he thought it wasn’t a good sign that both a doctor and priest were there.

Papa died sometime during the night. Israel had heard him coughing and struggling to breathe and then things went quiet. Until Mama started sobbing. Israel was too ill to move to say goodbye to his Papa and his body must have been taken sometime while he was sleeping.

The Hands household had three beds, mama and papas bed where Seth slept as well, Israel’s bed which he shared with Jacob, and a bed for Sarah and Hannah. But since he was sick Israel was alone. Until Hannah joined him on the bed.

Mama was crying again. Israel tried to focus enough to find out why. He saw Mama on the edge of her bed with baby Seth before her. He wasn’t moving. Izzy watched her wrap Seth’s body in a blanket.

Papa was gone. Seth was gone. Israel was sick with the same thing. Was he going to die? He didn’t want to die. Israel’s chest got even tighter and he started to cough. He couldn’t breathe…he was going to die. He was so scared. He desperately wanted to call out for his mama but he was coughing too hard, he could barely get any air.

“Shh, I have you Israel,” Mama said as she lifted him into her arms, “Just try to breathe baby.”

Israel tried but couldn’t stop coughing, just like papa had before he died. He clung to his mama as he hadn’t in years terrified that the end was near. Mama was praying.

“Lord, please help my baby, please don’t take him too.”

Israel felt dizzy and shaky and he still couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to die but…but at least he would be with Papa and Seth. He wasn’t going to be alone. Israel calmed down a little at the thought and suddenly breathing was easier. His coughing calmed down.

“That’s it Israel, you’ll be alright, love.”

Israel fell asleep in his mama’s arms. The next morning he felt a little better. He felt like he was burning a little less. He thought he might recover. He was still very ill and couldn’t stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time.

The next morning his fever broke. He was still so very weak and couldn’t get out of bed and had coughing fits but things were getting a little better for him. Hannah was still burning with fever beside him but so far Sarah and Jacob were well. For some reason no one was leaving the house.

“Mama what’s going on?” Israel asked, unsure how else to ask.

“This sickness is spreading through town. We have to stay home. They come by every morning to check on us and bring food. They took Papa and Seth to the cemetery.”

“Did I almost die too? Am I going to die?”

“I think you did almost die love, but it looks like you’re going to get better. You just need to rest and do your best Israel.”

The next morning he felt a little better than he had the day before and as his mind cleared Israel thought more about the fact that his Papa was gone. His baby brother was gone. Israel was now the man of the house and he was going to have to take care of the family. That’s what a man did, he protected his family and did his best to help them, that’s what Papa always said.

Israel figured he could go back to work once he was well. And Mama had her seamstress work and Jacob could work. Papa always praised hard work…Israel sniffled, he missed Papa already.

Beside him Hannah started coughing. Israel reached over and pulled Hannah closer to him and lifted her up so she could breathe easier.

“Izil,” she mumbled, at only three she couldn’t quite pronounce Israel yet.

“It’s alright Hannah, just rest,” he said.

Israel fell asleep cradling his sister and woke a few hours later to Mama speaking to their priest through the closed door, reporting what was going on and asking for some supplies.

Israel was able to eat, able to feed himself for the first time in more than a week. He didn’t realize so much time had passed. Israel was starting to feel better but Hannah was still very sick. And it didn’t escape his notice that mama didn’t look like she felt well.

Jacob and Sarah weren’t sick yet, just quiet and scared.

That night Israel heard Mama coughing in her sleep. Hannah was shivering and whimpering and Israel drew her close and told her everything was going to be alright. He was still holding Hannah in the morning, but Hannah was gone.

“Mama!”

“Israel? Oh…oh no Hannah…no!” Mama started crying as she scooped Hannah’s body into her arms. Soon everyone was huddled on the bed and crying.

When the priest came around the next morning they took Hannah’s body away, wrapped in another blanket just like Seth had been. There would be no funerals until the quarantine was lifted.

Mama seemed down and inattentive the rest of the day; and while Israel wanted to blame that on losing Hannah he could see the flush on her cheeks and heard her cough even though she tried to hide it. Mama was getting sick.

Israel was terrified of losing Mama. He would have to take care of Jacob and Sarah on his own. He was probably going to have to do so for a little while at least while mama was sick. The problem was he could barely get out of bed.

Israel tried to get up and out of bed if only to walk a few paces. He ate even though his stomach still hurt and he wasn’t hungry. He had to get his strength back. His family needed him.

Two days later his fears were realized.

“Israel?”

“Hmm.”

“Israel wake up.”

“Jacob? What?”

“Mama won’t wake up.”

Israel sat up so fast he felt dizzy and looked over to Mama’s bed. He could tell she was breathing, in fact she was shivering in bed. Israel’s heart was pounding and his legs felt shaky as he took a few steps over to the bed.

Mama was shivering and flushed. She had a fever.

“Mama’s sick?” Jacob asked.

“Yes. We need to take care of her,” Israel said. Israel knew where everything was in the house, he knew how to use the cookstove and make tea and he thought he could make food well enough to feed the family.

The priest came by and left some supplies and Israel reported that his mother was sick. He spent the day doing his best to take care of everyone while not overdoing it. Jacob and Sarah were helping as much as they could. Israel made food that didn’t quite taste as good as Mama’s but he managed not to burn anything or burn the house down.

Everything was a blur. Israel slept and then tried to keep everyone fed and things clean enough. He took care of Mama as best he could. Israel did for Mama what Mama had done for him.

Days passed. The priest came and went. Israel asked about the neighbors and the town. The sickness was everywhere. People were dying all over town.

Mama’s coughing was getting worse, just like Papa, just like Seth and Hannah. Just like Israel. So far only Israel had made it. He tried to push the thought from his mind.

Israel made porridge and got Mama to eat some. Sarah said she wasn’t hungry and she felt a little warm.

“Stay in bed the rest of the day,” Israel said.

A few nights later Israel woke to the sound of Mama coughing and retching. He got up and went to her bed and helped her sit up.

“Israel…”

“It’s alright Mama,” he said.

“Israel promise me you’ll watch over your siblings.”

“Mama?”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. Of course I’ll take care of Jacob and Sarah. I’ll protect them until the day I die,” Israel said.

Mama smiled, “You’re a good boy Israel. Remember that. You’ll be a good man someday soon. I love you.”

“I love you too Mama, you…you just need to rest and you’ll be alright,” Israel said but he wasn’t sure if he believed it.

By morning Mama was listless and burning hot. Sarah was burning with fever. Israel wanted to cry, he wanted help but there was none. He…he just had to do his best to take care of the family.

“Is Mama going to die?” Jacob asked.

Israel wanted to lie but didn’t, “I think so.” He was almost certain Mama was going to die.

Late in the afternoon Mama had a coughing fit and Israel propped her up. She tensed up and struggled to breathe. Israel prayed for Mama and a few minutes later she was gone. Israel sat on the bed for hours unable to do anything. Jacob was crying. Sarah was too sick to realize what was going on.

Early the next morning Israel wrapped Mama’s body in her blanket and waited for the priest to come by.

Israel walked over to the door when the priest knocked.

“Is there still illness here?”

“Yes. And a death. My mother is gone,” Israel said, “I can’t carry her to the door.”

The priest came back with help and took Mama away.

“Do you need help young Mr. Hands?”

“I can manage,” Israel said. He had to be brave and take care of his family.

Israel started to feel a little better physically. He was lost in every other sense but he was recovering so he had hope that Sarah might recover and Jacob hadn’t even gotten ill.

“What are we gonna do Israel?” Jacob asked.

“Go back to work at the docks, find someone to watch Sarah during the day. We’ll stay together and work hard and Mama and Papa will be proud of us,” Israel said. It was simple and yet it was going to be a challenge. Israel would work hard. He believed he could do it.

Israel said his prayers before bed and hoped things would get better, hoped he could create a new normal for his brother and sister.

Sarah was gone by the time Israel woke up in the morning. Once again Israel wrapped the body up and waited. Now it was just him and Jacob.

The next morning brought another blow; Jacob was getting sick.

“Am I gonna die, Israel?” he asked.

“I don’t know, you just need to rest Jacob,” Israel said, “I fought it off and you’re tougher than I am.” Israel put all his effort into helping Jacob. He made broth and porridge just as Mama had for him. He gave Jacob herbs and kept a cool cloth on his forehead. Israel prayed and made promises to take care of Jacob if he survived.

Jacob’s coughing got worse. There were several nights in a row where Izzy thought it might be over. Then, slowly, Jacob started to get better and it seemed like he would survive.

Israel and Jacob started planning their future. They would live together, they might be able to afford rent on their house. They were both young and once they recovered there were many jobs they could do. There were certainly going to be plenty of jobs to be had with so many lost to sickness. They would stick together and they would make things work.

“When do we get to leave the house?” Jacob asked.

“When you’re a little better, we’re almost there,” Israel said.

“I’m still tired,” Jacob said.

“I know. It took me a while to get my strength back. You’ll get there,” Israel said.

“Can you put apples in the porridge tomorrow?”

Israel chuckled, “I can and will. We should get to sleep. Goodnight Jacob.”

“Goodnight Israel.”

Israel fell asleep slowly. He was still worried, still stressed and grieving. So much had changed and so much more would. Most of his family was gone but he still had Jacob and they would stick together and they would be fine.

In the morning Israel slipped out of bed and let Jacob continue sleeping. He made the porridge with apples like Jacob wanted. The whole house started to smell of apples. But Jacob wasn’t waking up.

Israel frowned, “Jacob? Breakfast is ready, you need to get up.”

Nothing.

Israel stood still and didn’t want to move, “Jacob? Jacob please…” It took Israel a long time to move toward the bed. He didn’t want it to be real. It couldn’t be real. Jacob was getting better and they were going to be together and everything was going to be fine.

“Jacob?” Israel touched his brother, then shook him, “Jacob wake up!” Israel started sobbing and collapsed on the bed. Jacob was gone. Something had gone wrong during the night and Jacob was gone and Israel was alone. All alone.

Israel sobbed and sobbed. He didn’t understand. Why was he spared? Why was his family taken from him? What was he going to do? He didn’t have anyone or anything. The losses hit him all and once and he couldn’t do anything other than sob.

He was still sobbing when the priest came and took Jacob away. A few hours later the priest came back and took Israel away from his empty home. He never went back.

*****

Izzy wiped the tears from his eyes, “When I was well enough I went looking for work. A ship needed a cabin boy. I’ve been at sea ever since. Had just enough money for a single grave and a headstone.”

Izzy couldn’t bring himself to look up at the crew and the captains. He was so drained. But…but he did feel a little better. He swore he wouldn’t tell the crew anything; they didn’t need to know. Just because Lucius caught Izzy at the grave didn’t give him the right to know details. But he’d changed his mind after a few days. Most of the others on the ship had shared bits of their past trauma.

Finally he looked up when Ed approached him.

“Izzy, I’m so sorry mate,” Ed said and drew him into a tight hug. Fang was next to give him a hug and then Jim.

Izzy looked around at the crew and the captains and realized that even though he’d lost his birth family, he still had one. For better or worse the Revenge was home and everyone on it was family. He wasn’t alone.

#ofmd #izzy hands #sad fic #tw child death

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blixvoronin · 1 year

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dwc day 4: influence

read more about the daily writing challenge for this week here @daily-writing-challenge

summary: i had it all planned out before you met me / was gonna leave early and so swiftly / maybe in a fire or crash off a ravine / people would weep, “how tragic, so early”

word count: 1508

content warnings: suicidal ideation, completed suicide mention

Foreword: If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal ideation or planning to die by suicide, reach out for help by calling 988 in the United States, or by texting “HOME” to 741-741. Don’t wait. You’re worth it.

–

It wasn’t often that Blix did this, but she had to admit it was becoming more frequent. She sat, in a rare moment, on the roof of the manor and with her eyes trained on the sky – the sun dipped behind the clouds, and the stars were soon to make their presence known.

Some years ago, her life had been so different – an endless cycle of deployment, home, deployment, home, deployment, home, and she could swear she spent more time on the battlefield than in her own lands.

It scared her, the way those memories clung to her. The way the specific feeling of dread and helplessness she’d felt take root when she’d had half of her vision burned away off of the coast of Zuldazar never went away. Not completely.

Her gaze fell to a sheet of parchment clutched in her hands. Her own scrawl ran across the page, and Blix took a moment to reflect on the contents. She knew she’d never deliver this message to the person it was intended for. Some things were better left unsaid.

The rogue took a shaky breath, speaking in the softest voice she could manage, as if she were worried the wrong person would overhear. For all intents and purposes, the wrong people would. It was part of the curse, after all, despite the fact that – as Blix had heard, time and again, dead men tell no tales.

“Indy,” Blix croaked, forcing herself to start. Her therapist had told her that doing this – writing letters and reading them aloud – could help her process some of the trauma she’d gone through. Please, she silently prayed, Light, please, don’t let this open more wounds than it shuts.

“I honestly sat here and wrote this letter… four times? Maybe three? Regardless, it was a lot.” She pursed her lips, tempted to stop – no. This had to be done. She continued to read as a specter settled itself at her side, sitting and gazing out at the rising stars as Blix’s voice filtered through the Duskwood evening.

“There’s no one else I could think of to talk to about this other than you, but there’s been a lot on my mind. My life was really, really dark for a really long time – I mean, long to me, not necessarily long to you. But, I’m starting to realize just how bad it’d gotten. My uncle Jonathan – you know of him, I’ve talked about him enough – was the last person to carry the family curse before me, since he was eldest of my father’s generation. I talk a lot about how he lived – that he struggled with it, that it drove him mad – but I don’t talk a lot about how he died.

“Uncle Jon committed suicide when I was really young. Honestly, I don’t remember a lot from that time? I remember that I was a teenager, so my own manifestation was starting to pop up. I was scared. When he died, it took the wind out from under me, really. I remember feeling like I was alone in the world – now, you know, I was the only one in the family hearing ghosts, and I felt like I was going crazy. Like him. If I’m being honest, those were a few really, really bad years, if only because I suddenly had to learn everything on my own and – and deal with it. The military made it easier, I guess – I’d started to figure shit out, and it made more sense, and now I had this… structure. Telling me where to go, what to eat, what to wear, y’know. Easy stuff. Just show up and do.”

Blix paused, her eyes flitting away for a moment before she sighed heavily and continued. “Then… Kingsland happened, and I lost my vision in my left eye, and suddenly the world was so much worse. That kind of kicked everything off. I remember telling a friend of mine about what I was going through – that I was struggling – and the response was kind of to put me on the backburner on that deployment. Light duty and a watch over me constantly. I never really felt like I got help. From there, more people died, and the whole… all of second battalion was found in that awful camp, and I just – I dunno. I felt like there wasn’t a lot to hope for, anymore. My wife had fucked off to who-knows-where, and jumped off the deep end on necromancy. I felt like everything had just fallen to shit.

“The worst part was that, y’know, after we got back, I looked for help. I did all the things, I did the counseling, I did the emergency shit, and nothing – nothing made it better. More deployments, more damn combat deaths. Ceci died, and the light just completely went the hell out. There wasn’t a damn point, after that. I didn’t feel close to anyone aside from Kenorian, and what was I supposed to tell him, right? The guy’s an Illidari; he’s the epitome of ‘I gave up my entire life as I knew it for the sake of my mission,’ and he survived so much. I felt like I couldn’t talk to him, ‘cause he’d just think less of me.”

Blix reached up, wiping at tears she hadn’t realized had appeared on her face, and huffed a breath before coughing a few times as she refrained from a sob. “I had a plan,” she croaked. “The greenhouse was filled with all sorts of plants that’d kill you if you got near them without – without a respirator. Some of ‘em were quick, some weren’t. I knew which were which, and I was planning to just… accidentally make my way over there. I probably wouldn’t have been found until it was too late, and I thought it was foolproof, and I wouldn’t be leaving anyone behind, really. No one that needed me.”

Gritting her teeth, Blix’s brow furrowed as she recalled the memory. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before sniffing and clearing her throat to continue. “I, uh – I was just trying to find the right time, really, when I met you at that party. For a little while after, you know, I was still unsure. We had that first brawl in Darkshire, and that was… it was good to connect with someone. I felt seen, for the first time in fucking years. That talk we had in the inn… y’know, I put it off. I was like, ‘hey, let’s wait. Let’s wait a little bit, I don’t want to spoil the memory for her.’ Then one day – one day became another, and we s… started spending more time together, and all of a sudden, y’know, I realized I was developing feelings for you -”

Blix sniffled again, taking a breath. “I couldn’t follow through anymore. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and what you’d told me about your brother, how much you wanted to find your parents. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted to help with that. I couldn’t help if I were dead, really. So I – I stuck it out. Then… the most amazing shit happened. You saw something in me I hadn’t seen – you thought I was worth it, despite how broken I was and how much of a piece of shit I felt like I was – you made me feel like that just wasn’t true. I know it took me too long to really get into therapy and start unboxing a lot of this, but Indy, you gotta know, you -”

By now, the tears were freely flowing, and Blix folded the letter in her lap as she took a shuddering breath that didn’t stand against the urge to cry that overwhelmed her. “You saved my life,” she croaked, her voice breaking. “You saved my life. You healed me without even knowing it, and you still don’t know how much, and I just – I’m so glad that I have you, and Asha, and that suddenly, shit isn’t so scary anymore.”

Wiping at her face, Blix let out a few sobs, burying her head in her hands. She sniffed, taking a few deep breaths to center herself, and blinked hard a few times before the feeling of a hand on her back startled her so badly she nearly lost her balance on the edge of the roof.

Her head snapped up, and wide, tear-stained eyes met the phantasmal image of Jonathan Voronin, who looked on his niece with a small, sad smile. Blix’s lip quivered, and she leaned towards the ghost as if to wrap her arms around him, the pang in her chest all too familiar when she realized he wasn’t truly physical. His voice rang around her, despite his lips never moving.

“I’m proud of you, Al, and I love you. You did better than me, and that’s all I could hope for. Stay alive. The stars are a lot prettier to you than they are to me.”

And he was right.

#dwc #februarydwc2023 #februaryday42023 #blixvoronin #honestly this one was really difficult to write #if only because of how close to home it can be for a lot of people myself included :/#also i hope this fixed the tags kharris!!! theyre hand typed smdh tumblr TERRIBLE #indy

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partum-memoriae-muses · 4 months

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Name: Sora Tomino

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Faceclaim: Miyo Saimori from My Happy Marriage

Curse Technique: Tomino's Hell

Grade: Grade 2 (Up for review for Grade 1)

Age: 19

Height: 5'2"

Birthday: August 30th, 1999

Birthplace: Tokyo, Japan

Orientation: Bisexual

Species: Human

Occupation: Jujutsu Sorcerer / Barista (Public job)

Father: Unnamed (deceased)

Mother: Unnamed

Bio:

A recent graduate of Jujutsu High's Tokyo school, Sora comes from one of the Jujutsu sorcerer clans - the Tomino clan. A clan that has often comes in and out of near extinction due to the issue involving the clan's curse ability - Tomino's Hell.

Tomino's Hell is a cursed technique in which red threads will extend from the user's fingertips to be used versatility by the user, at a massive cost. The more this curse is used, the more the threads will wrap around the user until eventually they will reach up the users throat and strange them to death or surround the entire body to suffocate them to death.

This particular curse had killed many heads of the Toino family, including Sora's own father who died in 2001, when Sora was only two years old. This devastated her family, and left her mother protective of her for quite some time after his death.

That is, until Sora would be out with her mother and saw how curses affected people every day. She would watch as curses made people sick and sad, and her kind heart wanted to be like her father and save people from that. Without her mother's permission, which left them in a currently estranged position due to it, she enrolled into Jujutsu High using her lineage as future head of the Tomino clan.

She wasn't an excellent student and struggled to use her technique the way higher ups demand she use, which could lead to an early death, she still did well enough to graduate and is currently a Grade 2 sorcerer up for review for a possible grade 1 status.

Sora is polite and kind towards the students around her as well as her coworkers, but still fears dying due to her curse. During the Night of a 100 curses in 2017, when she was still a student, her threads were close to wrapping around her throat and scared her in just how easy it would be to die from this.

She still works hard to find a way to get stronger, and prays she will someday find a way to hold back the negative side effects of this curse so she can live a long life, unlike her ancestors.

Although Sora has a very average appearance; black hair a little past her shoulders and red eyes, she is noted for always wearing a Hanamusubi flower patterned knot on the right side of her hair. The Hanamusubi was a gift from her mother when she entered Jujutsu High, the last gift from her mother before the two of them stopped talking to each other.

Currently, although she makes her money mainly from being a Jujutsu sorcerer, she works in a cafe as a barista to make some extra money to help her afford her apartment in Shibuya.

During the Shibuya arc, Sora was actually one of the people who went to the massive Halloween party in the city with some coworkers when she saw the veil appear over the sky. When she couldn't call the other sorcerers, she knew this was trouble.

Throughout the arc, she is wearing a Halloween costume of a shrine maiden with a kitsune mask as part of a traditional yokai and priestess gimic her and her coworkers were going for.

Unfortunately, her friends would die during the Shibuya incident which leaves Sora feeling defeated and heartbroken that she couldn't save people she knew. This causes her powers to nearly consume her again, red threads wrapping around her body until she was rendered unconcious and escorted back to Jujutsu High by a surviving sorcerer.

During the Culling Games, Sora is isolated in her room on-campus, threads binding her to her room to wallow in depression and grief until she can calm herself down enough to keep going.

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thearvariblues · 3 years

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The Mysterious Case of Jaskier's Immortality

Word count: 3601

“So nice to see you again, Yennefer,” Jaskier says, putting on one of his many fake smiles.

“Jaskier,” she replies with a smile that almost looks genuine but Jaskier is pretty sure that it’s not. Which she confirms a few seconds later by saying: “Shouldn’t you be dead already?”

“I see you’re as kind as always, my dear. But don’t you worry, Geralt is doing a very good job when it comes to protecting me.”

“Hm,” Geralt sighs resignedly, clearly regretting his decision to spend the night in an inn instead of the middle of a forest.

To be fair, it was Jaskier who suggested it, claiming that he refused to be eaten by angry drowners, no matter how many times Geralt tried to explain to him that the probability of finding a drowner in the middle of a very dry forest is extremely low.

If Jaskier knew they were going to run into Yennefer in the inn, he would have risked the drowners.

“I don’t doubt that,” Yennefer smirks. “But seriously, how old are you, bard?”

“No idea. I stopped counting after fifty, I think.”

“You know, you don’t look fifty,” she says.

“Oh, well, my mother had an elf lover before I was born, so there’s a fifty-fifty chance that I’m not gonna age anytime soon. Sorry,” Jaskier smiles again, sweetly – and this time, it’s genuine.

“As if,” Geralt grunts.

“I’m sorry, dear?” Jaskier blinks.

“Come on, Jaskier, it doesn’t work like that. You’re a viscount, that means your father must have been a viscount, too.”

“You don’t know much about nobility, do you, Geralt?” Yennefer snorts.

“Hm,” Geralt grunts. “Still, he’s not a half-elf.”

“Let me guess, you’re a Witcher, therefore you could smell it if I was? I hate to break it to you, dear heart, but you’re going to have your nose checked.”

“You’re not a half-elf, Jaskier,” Geralt repeats. “You’re not immortal, you just… look young.”

“Yeah, right, you got me,” Jaskier shrugs. “I just look good because I moisturize. Happier now?”

“Much,” Geralt nods. “See? You can be honest if you want.”

“Yup,” Jaskier nods. “Honesty personified. Now please excuse me, I need to go and moisturize some more. Internally. With ale.”

“I’m actually a mermaid, you know?” Jaskier grins the next time he’s asked, this time by a very confused and very old Valdo Marx.

“A siren, Jaskier. Not a mermaid,” Geralt sighs, praying to Melitele to give him strength. “And you’d know that, of course, if you actually were a siren.”

“Just so you know, the term siren is actually quite offensive to my people.”

“You mean idiots?” Geralt chuckles. “You’re not a siren, Jask.”

“Can you prove that I’m not?”

“Well, last week you tripped and fell into this creek that was like… knee-deep, and you nearly drowned.”

“I was in shock!” Jaskier proclaims dramatically. “But I have a proof that I am, or at least could be a siren.”

“What proof?”

“Well, my lovely voice, of course!”

“Not as lovely as you think it is,” Valdo Marx snorts.

“Come on, Jaskier,” Geralt sighs, ignoring the old troubadour. “You have much better voice that any siren I’ve ever heard.”

“Geralt of Rivia!” Jaskier gasps, clutching his chest. “Was that a compliment?!”

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters. “I didn’t mean…”

“Really though, Jaskier,” Valdo says. “How?”

“That’s a secret I’ll take to the grave, I’m afraid,” Jaskier grins. “Once I manage to reach it.”

“Keep on with the bullshit, Jaskier,” Geralt growls, “and you can reach it tonight.”

“Fifty years traveling with him, and he still thinks he can scare me. Cute, isn’t he?” Jaskier laughs. “Oh, Geralt you could never.”

“Try me.”

“All right, I’ll tell you my secret,” Jaskier winks at Ciri, who lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve got this neat… magic ring.”

“Hmmm,” Ciri observes. “Looks like a normal signet ring to me.”

“Well… Yeah, well, it looks like it, all right, but actually–”

“Jaskier, I was born a princess. This is clearly a Pankratz family signet ring.”

“Damn,” Jaskier groans. “Like father like daughter, eh?”

“Sorry,” Ciri shrugs.

“I got myself cursed.”

Triss Merigold lifts an eyebrow.

“Somebody cursed you to live forever, is that so?” she asks and her voice is almost dripping with disbelief.

“More like cursed me,” Geralt murmurs.

“Oh, shut up, Witcher, you know you couldn’t live without me,” Jaskier smiles brightly, and Geralt has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling back.

“Hm,” he says instead.

“Eloquent as ever,” Jaskier nods.

“Would you like me to...” Triss clears her throat. “You know, try to lift the curse?”

“No!” Geralt yells before he can stop himself.

“See?” Jaskier beams. “You could never live without me!”

“A bruxa,” Jaskier repeats to a young man who claims to be his son, but looks older than his supposed father.

“You’re not a bruxa, Jaskier!” Geralt whines.

“Excuse me, and how would you know?”

“Because I’m a fucking Witcher?!”

“Well, you’re clearly a fucking horrible Witcher if you haven’t noticed until now!”

“I think I’d notice if you tried to sneak out of the camp at nights to feed,” Geralt comments, crossing his hands. “You can’t even sneak out to take a piss, Jask.”

“Maybe I do that on purpose!”

“Besides, bruxae are mostly women.”

“Mostly being the important word here.”

“Fuck’s sake, Jaskier. You won’t even eat a piece of meat if it’s not so well-done that it’s almost cremated.”

“Do you know how disgusting the blood is, Geralt?!” Jaskier groans, and then immediately blinks when he realizes what he just said. “I meant…”

“Case closed,” Geralt nods, satisfied.

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier mutters. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

“Uhm, my lords, if I may,” the young man says.

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but if you’re aging like a normal human, you’re probably not my son,” Jaskier shrugs. “Sorry. I get it why your mum might be confused, though. It was quite a night, with at least four–”

“And that’s enough,” Geralt says, grabbing Jaskier by the collar and pulling him away from the man. “You know, lifting the curse seems like a good idea now.”

“There isn’t really a curse, Geralt,” Jaskier laughs.

Geralt sighs, his lips curling into a tiny smile that Jaskier cannot see.

“Thank fuck.”

“You see, we were in a crazy mage’s tower and I saw this bottle and I thought it was slivovitz, so I drank it, but it seems that it actually was some sort of an immortality potion,” Jaskier explains to a lady at the ball, whose grandmother he’d apparently fucked once, when said grandmother was still a young, unmarried woman.

Geralt only blinks, because it’s the first truly plausible explanation for Jaskier’s mysterious immortality.

“Oh, that must be so horrible to watch everyone you love die!” the woman nods enthusiastically. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me about it in private?”

“Of course, my dear…” Jaskier smiles. “Just… wait a second. How old is your mother?”

“Forty-seven, why?”

Jaskier’s lips are moving silently for a few seconds while he counts, and then thy turn into a wide grin.

“No reason, dear,” he says, offering her his arms. “Shall we?”

When Jaskier and the lady flee the ball, Geralt pulls out his flask of White Gull and pours its contents into his empty tankard.

So, a potion…

“There is no such thing as an immortality potion, Geralt,” Yennefer shakes her head.

“How can you be so sure?” Geralt asks. “Maybe this mage really did find a way to at least make the human life longer!”

“And why would he do that?” Yennefer scoffs. She has been doing that a lot since she finally ended their relationship for good about twenty years ago. (He later found out that she had left him for none other than Triss Merigold, but Yennefer still doesn’t know that he knows, and he’s having way too much fun with it to break the fact to her. So right now, he is pretending he doesn’t notice that Triss is eavesdropping on their conversation behind the door leading to Yennefer’s bedroom, and that he absolutely believed Yen when she claimed that the loud thud a few minutes ago was caused by a cat.) “We are immortal, Geralt, unless killed. There is no reason for any of us to make a potion that would make a human live forever.”

“Well, perhaps this mage fell in love with a human and wanted them to stay with him!”

Yennefer pauses, inspecting Geralt from head to toe and back again, and then she sighs.

“Oh, Geralt. Really?”

“Really what?” Geralt blinks, genuinely confused.

“Oh,” Yennefer murmurs. “Oh, no. Really?”

“Really what, Yen?”

“You mean you don’t… Oh, dear gods. Really?”

“Yen, I swear that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Geralt grunts, frowning.

Yennefer rolls her eyes and tries counting to ten to calm herself down. She doesn’t even get to three before Geralt’s eyes go wide.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed, Geralt,” she nods solemnly. “Fuck, indeed.”

“I found a djinn, he granted me a wish,” Jaskier says when Geralt asks him, about five minutes after his meeting with Yennefer. (He agreed to use a portal to get to the bard as soon as possible. A fucking portal!) The bard is sitting in a tavern and eating his dinner, utterly undisturbed by the sudden appearance of an angrier-than-usual Witcher.

“You never mentioned a djinn,” Geralt growls. “And after your last encounter with one, I sincerely doubt you’d engage with another.”

“You clearly don’t know me at all–”

“Besides, Valdo Marx, as far as I know, had an apoplexy while fucking a young student on his desk, and I don’t think you’d ever let him die like that if you had a choice.”

“You see, that was kind of a my mistake, since I didn’t specify the time and the circumstances of his apoplexy in my wish, so…”

“What was your third wish?”

“Pardon me?”

“Your immortality, Valdo Marx dropping dead, that’s two. What was the third one? And don’t even try to mention the Countess de Stael, since you’d have to dig her up first.”

“That was disgusting, even for you, you know that, Geralt?”

“How are you immortal, Jaskier?!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Jaskier puts a piece of bread in his mouth and grins.

“Maybe some other time, Witcher.”

“I am a fae,” Jaskier replies a day later.

“You’re not a fucking fae, bard.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you fucking lie, Jaskier. All the time.”

“Fuck. Didn’t think of that.”

“You see, there was this artifact–”

Geralt closes his eyes, turning Roach around.

“Let’s consult Yennefer about this.”

“Oh, mother of…” Jaskier whines. “All right, no artifact, there was no artifact! Geralt, I’m telling you, there was no…”

“You’re not a succubus.”

“But it would be a perfect explanation, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re not succubus, because if you were, you’d know that a male one is called an incubus.”

“Oh, you and your stupid Witcher terms again.”

“You’re not an incubus, Jaskier, because if you were, I could never let you near Eskel.”

“All right… Explain, please?”

Geralt grunts.

“I’d really rather not.”

“A dragon,” Jaskier grins victoriously.

“No,” Geralt says, shaking his head.

“No,” Jaskier agrees with a sigh.

“You know you could just tell me the truth and be done with it, right?”

“Hm… No.”

“All right, enough is enough,” Jaskier growls that night in their rented room, tossing his doublet aside. “You’ve asked me three times today, Geralt. Why the sudden interest in my immortality?”

“As you said, enough is enough. You’ve been traveling with me for what, a hundred years?”

“A hundred and four.”

“Yes, and you still look the same as the day I met you in Posada!” Geralt growls. “And it drives me mad!”

“It wasn’t driving you insane for at least fifty years, so why the sudden change of heart?”

“Fuck off, bard. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t care.”

“But you do, Geralt,” Jaskier says, taking a step towards the Witcher. “Why?”

He’s standing in Geralt’s personal space, his chemise half undone, and he’s watching Geralt with those sincere blue eyes, and Geralt can’t fucking think…

“Because I love you, you idiot!” he snaps. “Because I fucking love you and I need to know if I can love you, or you’re gonna just drop dead one day without a warning!”

“Oh,” Jaskier whispers, his lips forming into a huge, happy smile. “Oh, fucking finally.”

“Fucking… what?” Geralt blinks, his arms suddenly full of an enthusiastic bard.

“I love you too, you silly Witcher,” Jaskier laughs. “I’ve loved you for a hundred years! Well, a hundred and four, but who’s counting?”

“You…” Geralt mutters.

“Silly, silly Witcher,” Jaskier repeats, pressing his lips against Geralt’s in a kiss that could be described as chaste, or at least the chastest Jaskier has ever been capable of. “We’re going to Lettenhove in the morning.”

“We are?”

“Oh, yes,” Jaskier whispers. “See, I’ve told you the truth about the source of my immortality once. But I think you need to see it to believe me.”

“Wait, you have? When?” Geralt asks. “Was it the artifact? Just tell me, I promise I won’t make you consult it with–”

“Shut up now,” Jaskier says, kissing Geralt again with way less chastity than before. “And in the meantime, believe me this – you can keep loving me, and I’m not planning on dropping dead anytime soon. Also, I’ve spent the last hundred years imagining fucking you senseless, so if you’re not opposed to the idea, perhaps we could, well…”

The kiss that this idea gets him is as far from chaste as one could possibly get.

And Jaskier definitely isn’t about to complain.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Geralt asks as they march towards the Lettenhove castle’s gates. He tugs at his doublet’s collar, way too tight for his liking. He’d much rather walk in there wearing his usual attire, but Jaskier insisted that Geralt must look presentable if he wants to meet his family.

It turns out that it only takes a single I love you to turn the bard into a manipulative bastard. Who would have guessed?

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jaskier replies, grinning cheerfully. “And stop frowning, you’re gonna scare the servants, love.”

“How long it’s been since your last visit here, Jaskier?” Geralt says, his frown deepening. “Who rules Lettenhove now, hm? Aren’t you only going to be a distant relative, a great-great-uncle risen from the grave?”

“I sure hope not,” Jaskier chuckles, stopping in front of the guards by the gate. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Viscount Julian, here to see the Viscountess Madeleine.”

“How can you still be a viscount?” Geralt blinks when one of the guards promptly disappears inside.

“We kind of decided to, you know, share the title,” Jaskier shrugs. “Seemed fair. Besides, father, well, the former viscount, insisted that I inherit the title, but he never mentioned anything about Mads not inheriting it, so…”

“How could your father have known who the viscount is going to be in almost a hundred years?”

“He really didn’t,” Jaskier chuckles. “See, it will all start to make sense once you meet her.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping for.”

The guard returns a few minutes later, telling them that the Viscountess will meet them in the garden.

Geralt, knowing a thing or two about nobility, think it’s a little weird, but isn’t about to protest. He only thinks he could have left the fancy clothes at the tavern.

“Oh, shut up, you,” Jaskier chuckles when Geralt voices this thought. “You look gorgeous.”

“I know. You’ve mentioned it a few times. But I didn’t have to look like that, because we’re going to meet the ruler of this land in a fucking garden, and–”

“Julian!”

A woman in a long white dress throws herself at Jaskier, who happily catches her. Geralt’s first instinct is to reach for his sword, only to realize that he (luckily) left it in the tavern – because Jaskier insisted, of course.

“Madeleine,” Jaskier chuckles. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“Oh, yes. Shocking, isn’t it?” she laughs, pulling away from him, and for the first time, Geralt truly looks at her.

The woman is shorter than Jaskier, slim, and her dress is much, much simpler than Geralt would have expected considering the fact that is supposed to be a viscountess. She has dark, long hair and her face is so beautiful that it almost – but only almost – takes the focus off her pointed ears.

“Lady Madeleine,” Jaskier grins, “may I introduce Geralt of Rivia, my Witcher. Geralt, this is Lady Madeleine, the current ruler of Lettenhove and my younger sister.”

“You’re…” Geralt blinks.

“A half-elf, yes,” she nods. “Julian! You haven’t told him?”

“Hardly my fault. I really tried,” Jaskier shrugs. “But he just wouldn’t believe me.”

“So you brought him here to prove it to him, rather than to visit your beloved sister? You are a horrible, horrible sibling, Julian!”

“Your… sister,” Geralt mutters, all his thoughts speeding through his head, colliding and falling down, one over another.

“Yes, we definitely share a mother,” Jaskier confirms. “Most likely a father, too, and trust me, it wasn’t the old viscount. Madeleine got the elvish looks, I only got the non-aging bit. Well, apparently.”

“But…” Geralt blinks. “Your father. The title.”

“Yen was right, dear heart, you really don’t know shit about nobility,” Jaskier snorts. “But I admit that even though our dear departed noble father knew that Mads wasn’t his daughter, obviously, it never occurred to him that I might not be his true son.”

“But you don’t age!”

“In his defense, that only became clear after his unfortunate passing.”

“And you aren’t going to start to age anytime soon,” Geralt mutters. “You really aren’t.”

“Told you so, didn’t I?” Jaskier winks, letting go of his sister and wrapping his arms around his lover instead.

“I… I…” Geralt stammers. “Fuck.”

“Maybe later, love,” Jaskier smiles. “Madeleine, my dear, wouldn’t you say that my return calls for a feast?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I have started the preparations the second my spies informed me that you have crossed the border.”

“Oh, so we have spies now?”

“It’s really only a net of nosy old ladies, but it works wonders,” Madeleine laughs. “I must admit, though, that I was only planning a feast to celebrate you coming home, but now I see we have a much better reason to party. Tell me, brother, did you finally get your stupid Witcher?”

Jaskier smiles brightly, turning his head to Geralt.

“Yes. I finally got my stupid Witcher.”

“Party,” the Witcher in question growls. “Is that why you made me dress like a pompous prick?”

“No, that was because while I find your usual self extremely attractive, you still look much better when your hair is properly combed and you’re not covered in monster blood.”

“Hm,” Geralt hums, but wraps his arm around the bard to hold him close.

“Oh, yes, about monsters,” Madeleine says with the most innocent expression Geralt has seen since Ciri broke Vesemir’s favorite vase at Kaer Morhen. “You see, we have a tiny problem with a cockatrice…”

“Right,” Geralt nods. “I’ll go grab my armor from the tavern.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have already arranged for your things to be brought to the castle. And your horse,” she adds before Geralt can even open his mouth. “You can leave for your quest as soon as the servants get here.”

“So much for you not being covered in monster blood,” Jaskier sighs.

“Hm,” Geralt grins. “Lady Madeleine, I suppose you happen to have a bathtub somewhere in the castle?”

“Of course. In fact, there is a private bathroom right next to Julian’s bedroom.”

“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier purrs. “You know me so well.”

“Yes, and I expect to get to know you even better. In another hundred years or so.”

Jaskier laughs, pulls Geralt closer to him and kisses him.

“Another thousand years, I’d say.”

“What… the… fuck?!” Geralt croaks, staring at the smouldering remains of the cockatrice that would have surely killed him if Jaskier… If Jaskier…

The bard looks at his hands, then at the cockatrice, and then back at his hands again.

“Geralt? I have a feeling that I’m not really… A half-elf.”

“No shit.”

“I think I might be… Uhm…”

“Oh, shit,” Geralt whispers.

“I suppose, uhm, you know…” Jaskier stammers, wiping his palms on his trousers like he could wipe away the feeling of literal flames shooting out of them mere moments ago.

“Yeah. We’re gonna have to consult this with Yen.”

“Splendid,” Jaskier sighs. “Can it at least wait after the feast?”

“After more than a hundred years of you not even knowing, I think one feast will be fine.”

“Thank the gods. Madeleine would kill me if I tried to leave now,” Jaskier chuckles. “Let’s go, then. We need to get the fried monster remains out of your hair.”

“You’re… I was fucking right! You’re not a half-elf!”

“Yeah, you’re a great Witcher,” Jaskier nods, grabbing Geralt’s arm and dragging him away from the monster. “Didn’t notice I was secretly a fucking mage, but otherwise a great Witcher.”

“Explains a lot, though.”

“Does it now?”

“Yeah. I always had a thing for mages, you know.”

“Oh, Geralt. You’re such a fucking idiot,” Jaskier chuckles.

“Made you laugh,” Geralt shrugs, smiling.

Jaskier shakes his head.

“I’m so, so gonna drown you in that bathtub.”

“My love,” Geralt grins, “you’re more than welcome to try.”

***

Tagging @lottelorelei - I’m sorry I always forget to reply to your lovely comments, but believe me, they always put a big smile on my face! :)

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #my fics #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #idiots in love #immortal jaskier #non-human jaskier #they're stupid your honor #they share a single braincell #and yennefer has the custody of it #also madeleine hyland is jaskier's sister in this

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jackoshadows · 3 years

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“You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be Knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.” - Eddard, A Game of Thrones

My featherbed is deep and soft, and there I’ll lay you down, I’ll dress you all in yellow silk, and on your head a crown - Arya, A Storm of Swords

“Aegon has been shaped for rule since before he could walk. He has been trained in arms, as befits a knight to be, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes, he speaks several tongues, he has studied history and law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Tommen has been taught that kingship is his right. Aegon knows that kingship is his duty, that a king must put his people first, and live and rule for them.” - Kevan, A Dance with Dragons

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So this is an essay of sorts on my speculation/theory that Arya is going to end up as a leader of the North by the end of the series. I will split this into several parts:

Arya and leadership

Arya and Northern leadership

Arya and Nymeria

Skillsets

Importance of being a Warg/Skinchanger

Succession

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

Arya Stark and leadership

“Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.“ - Arya, AGoT

Arya has always been a leader rather than a follower. Just like Jon at the wall, she initially chafes at having to follow orders instead of doing what she thinks is the right thing to do. Despite Gendry and Hot Pie being older than her, she’s the one giving the orders and making the plans. She manipulates or forces characters into doing what she wants – getting Gendry to leave Harrenhal and forcing Jaqen to help her free the Northmen.

Arya took the lead, kicking her stolen horse to a brisk heedless trot until the trees close in around her. Hot Pie and Gendry followed as best they could. From time to time Arya glanced over her shoulder, to make sure the two boys had not fallen too far behind, and to see if they were being pursued - Arya, ASoS

Like most of our protagonists, Arya is ambitious and interested in being an active participant at the top. She wanted to become a King’s councilor and build castles. That entire little speech that Varys gives about the ideal candidate for ruling fits Arya to a T.

Arya has gone hungry, scrubbed and cleaned, cooked and kept house, sewed and mended clothes, bound up wounds, been hunted, been scared for her life – and done all this with limited protection. Just survived on her wits. Arya can wield a sword, is fluent in several languages and has studied with a Septa.

We also see war torn Westeros and the suffering of the smallfolk through Arya’s eyes in ACoK and ASoS. It doesn’t matter if it’s Stark or Lannister, the smallfolk suffer the same – Septon Meribald’s ‘Broken Men’ speech in AFfC embodies what Arya observes. After Arya frees the Northmen using weasel soup and Vargo Hoat betrays the Lannisters, there are reprisal killings, torture and rape enacted by Stark bannermen and the sellswords. The smith, Maester and the head maid are executed for merely serving Tywin – something on which they had no choice. Gendry points this out to Arya and she feels guilty for her part in all this.

“I hate this lot worse. Ser Amory was fighting for his lord, but the Mummers are sellswords and turncloaks. Half of them can’t even speak the Common Tongue. Septon Utt likes little boys, Qyburn does black magic, and your friend Biter eats people.”

The worst thing was, she couldn’t even say he was wrong. The Brave Companions did most of the foraging for Harrenhal, and Roose Bolton had given them the task of rooting out Lannisters. Vargo Hoat had divided them into four bands, to visit as many villages as possible. He led the largest group himself, and gave the others to his most trusted captains. She had heard Rorge laughing over Lord Vargo’s way of finding traitors. All he did was return to places he had visited before under Lord Tywin’s banner and seize those who had helped him. – Arya, ACoK

"It’s not a village, it’s only black stones and old bones. “Did the Lannisters kill the people who lived here?” Arya asked as she helped Anguy dry the horses.

“No.” He pointed. “Look at how thick the moss grows on the stones. No one’s moved them for a long time. And there’s a tree growing out of the wall there, see? This place was put to the torch a long time ago.”

“Who did it, then?” asked Gendry.

“Hoster Tully.” Notch was a stooped thin grey-haired man, born in these parts. “This was Lord Goodbrook’s village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook’s son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn’t help the dead none.”

A silence fell." - Arya, ASoS

"Wolves, she thought again. Like me. Was this her pack? How could they be Robb’s men? She wanted to hit them. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to cry.” - Arya, ASoS

The smallfolk in the Riverlands are caught between the Starks, Tullys and Lannisters with no good choices. And on the ground level, Arya sees this, understands this and acknowledges this. Her actions benefited house Stark and no one else. She understands the cost of war.

Arya is also very keen on justice. In that she not only thinks that characters deserve justice, but she wants to actively participate and deliver justice. She considers the execution of Dareon from the NW as a just one.

Dareon had been a deserter from the Night's Watch; he had deserved to die. - Arya, AFfC

“Guilty!” Arya shouted with the rest. “Guilty, guilty, kill him, guilty!” …

Arya could only think of Mycah and all the stupid prayers she’d prayed for the Hound to die. If there were gods, why didn’t Lord Beric win? She knew the Hound was guilty… - Arya, ASoS

Her father beat her so often and so brutally that she was never truly free of pain or fear until she came to us.”

“Did you kill him?”

“She asked the gift for herself, not for her father.”

You should have killed him.“ - Arya, ADWD

Arya drew back from him. "He killed the slave?" That did not sound right. "He should have killed the masters!" – Arya, aDwD

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

Arya and Northern leadership

I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. - Hugo Wull

The North has famously never had a female leader in House Stark. So is it possible for valiant Ned’s precious little girl to become the first Lady Stark to lead the North?

In terms of personality, Arya resembles some of the other female leaders/members of Northern houses. She is bold and forward like Lyanna Mormont and Wylla Manderly. She has trained with the sword and learned how to use a bow and arrow. She proactively engineers her own escape like Alys Karstark. Characters like Ygritte and Alys remind Jon Snow of Arya.

Arya venerates Ned Stark. She follows his advice as much as Robb, Bran and Jon do. Even more so. She executes a NW brother for desertion. And that is important for the Starks.

I should kill them myself. Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. - Arya, ACoK

The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. - Bran, AGoT

“The Starks do not use headsmen. Ned always said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the blade, though he never took any joy in the duty.” - Catelyn, ACoK

“Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold.” Robb lifted the heavy axe with both hands. “Here in sight of gods and men, I judge you guilty of murder and high treason. In mine own name I condemn you. With mine own hand I take your life. Would you speak a final word?” - Catelyn, ASoS

The pale morning sunlight ran up and down his blade as Jon clasped the hilt of the bastard sword with both hands and raised it high. “If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them,” he said, expecting one last curse. - Jon, ADwD

Arya is one of the Starkiest Starks of the whole lot. She is also the only Stark to actually have the Stark look. She is stubborn and determined to do things the Stark way. She often uses her father’s advice to guide her way.

Her father used to say that a lord needed to eat with his men, if he hoped to keep them. “Know the men who follow you,” she heard him tell Robb once, “and let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.“ - Arya, aGoT

Arya had loved nothing better than to sit at her father’s table and listen to them talk. She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms.- Arya, AGoT

Whenever her father had condemned a man to death, he did the deed himself with Ice, his greatsword. “If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him go look him in the face and hear his last words,” she’d heard him tell Robb and Jon once. - Arya, ACoK

Now there are theories that it is future Bran who was communicating with Arya through the weirwood at Harrenhal, but she does gain strength from her father’s words when she prays to the Old Gods.

Gooseprickles rose on Arya’s skin, and for an instant she felt dizzy. Then, so faintly, it seemed as if she heard her father’s voice. “When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives,” he said. “But there is no pack,” she whispered to the weirwood. Bran and Rickon were dead, the Lannisters had Sansa, Jon had gone to the Wall. “I’m not even me now, I’m Nan.” “You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong. You have the wolf blood in you.” - Arya, ACoK

And while Arya is travelling incognito, GRRM keeps her connected to the North, house Stark and the Northern plot. She starts her journey from KL with a NW brother Yoren. She’s disguised as a boy like Danny Flint, Manderly requests a song about brave Danny Flint at Ramsay’s wedding with ‘Arya’. In the Riverlands, Arya’s plot intersects with her father’s bannermen, she participates in the capture of Harrenhal for house Stark and is there for Roose Bolton’s war council. She meets both Roose Bolton and Aenys Frey – our antagonists in Winterfell facing off against Stannis in ADwD. She meets Robett Glover – who is currently in White Harbor - when she lets him out of the dungeons. She gets Jaqen to help her father’s men.

“Vargo Hoat’s come back with prisoners. I saw their badges. There’s a Glover, from Deepwood Motte, he’s my father’s man. The rest too, mostly.” All of a sudden, Arya knew why her feet had brought her here. “You have to help me get them out.” – Arya, ACoK

Arya looked. She knew all of her father’s men. The three in the grey cloaks were strangers. Arya, AGoT

Twin towers. Sunburst. Bloody man. Battle-axe. The battle-axe is for Cerwyn, and the white sun on black is Karstark. They’re northmen. My father’s men, and Robb’s. - Arya, ACoK

Harwin?” Arya whispered. It was! Under the beard and the tangled hair was the face of Hullen’s son, who used to lead her pony around the yard, ride at quintain with Jon and Robb, and drink too much on feast days. He was thinner, harder somehow, and at Winterfell he had never worn a beard, but it was him—her father’s man. Arya, ASoS

“I bet there are Winterfell men too.” Her father’s men, the Young Wolf’s men, the direwolves of Stark. - Arya, ASoS

Arya is also involved in betrothals/marriage – first to Elmar Frey and then married off to Ramsay Bolton to hold the North. As a side note, her connection to all these bastards is indeed interesting - Elmar Frey, Ramsay Bolton, Gendry and Jon Snow. Is GRRM trying to say something here?

We now have the Northerners and Freys that Arya sees in Harrenhal transposed to Winterfell and ‘her father’s men’ rising up for Arya Stark.

Now, we can speculate and assume that these Northerners would have done the same for the other Starks, but that’s not the point here. In the books, GRRM has written this story to revolve around Arya. The mountain clans are marching for ARYA. The Northern houses are fighting alongside Stannis for ARYA. When lady Barbrey Dustin points out the anger of the Northmen at the treatment of ‘Valiant Ned's precious little girl’ she is talking about ARYA.

GRRM has Stannis wanting to rescue Arya for Jon. He has Mance trying to rescue Arya for Jon. He has Jon breaking his vows and dying trying to rescue Arya. A large part of what drives this plot forward is that it’s Arya, and her special relationship with Jon Snow influences a lot of what is happening south of the wall. The story only happens this way with Arya in the North. And that’s why it’s Arya’s story and not that of any other Stark. Superimposing this or that Stark in place of Arya to make a case for why they would be leader of the North makes no sense. GRRM writing in the marriage of Arya Stark to hold the North makes the case for why Arya is important to the North.

So, Arya has actively helped free Northmen in the Riverlands, engaged with important Northerners and Freys at Harrenhal and drives the plot to take down the Boltons in the North. With her leadership skills, her ability to wield a weapon and fight, looking like Ned, following in Ned’s footsteps and advice, her fierce personality, her loyalty to bannermen, her desire for justice and to help the weak and powerless, her huge direwolf - she would be like the Kings in the North of yore. I think the Northerners will be fine with Arya Stark being the Stark in charge.

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Arya and Nymeria

“What if the wolves come?” “Yield,” Arya suggested - Arya, ACoK

The direwolves are an important part of the books, and an important aspect of the Starks.They are as much a part of the Starks as Dany’s dragons are a part of her. They cannot be ignored as unimportant pets who will end up serving no purpose.

“He is part of you, Robb. To fear him is to fear you.” - Catelyn, ASoS

Ghost did not count. Ghost was closer than a friend. Ghost was part of him - Jon, ADWD

“Part of you is Summer, and part of Summer is you. You know that, Bran.” - Bran, ACoK

“Wolves and women wed for life,” Haggon often said. “You take one, that’s a marriage. The wolf is part of you from that day on, and you’re part of him. Both of you will change.” - Varamyr, ADWD

You have five trueborn children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord…The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,” Jon pointed out. - Bran, AGoT

“Roose Bolton has Lord Eddard’s daughter. To thwart him White Harbor must have Ned’s son … and the direwolf. The wolf will prove the boy is who we say he is, should the Dreadfort attempt to deny him.“ - Davos, ADWD

GRRM has mentioned several times that they are important.

The Lannisters are always likening themselves to lions, for example, and their motto “Hear me roar” speaks of a certain way of looking at life. But I think for the Starks it goes a little bit beyond that, especially in this generation, with these direwolves. It’s more than just a handy metaphor with them - GRRM, interview

"Wolves have been part of European folklore, of which America's descended, going back thousands of years. In Rome, Romulus and Remus -- there's always been this relationship between wolves and men." That relationship is seen time and again in Martin's series, and it's one that will Martin says will continue as the last two books are eventually released. Arya's wolf, Nymeria, in particular, will play an important role. "You know, I don't like to give things away." says Martin, a grin spreading across his face. "But you don't hang a giant wolf pack on the wall unless you intend to use it." - GRRM interview

The direwolves are important especially for Arya whose theme is ‘The lone wolf dies but the pack survives’ and there are constant mentions of the pack in her POV chapters. Nymeria is an alpha, a leader of her pack like Arya is a leader of hers.

“She says there’s this great pack, hundreds of them, mankillers. The one that leads them is a she-wolf, a bitch from the seventh hell.” - Arya, ACoK

Throughout ACoK and ASoS, Arya mentions the wolves in the Riverlands. They appear to be just ahead of her or behind her. In her chapters there are mentions of wolves eating people, of Roose going wolf hunting. It’s almost like the wolves are traveling with her. They even help her escape – the wolf howl giving the signal – from harrenhal. And it’s possible the pack was picking off Roose Bolton’s riders chasing Arya because they were following right behind.

She could hear the sound of her own breath, and the wolves as well, a great pack of them now. They are closer than the one I heard in the godswood, she thought. They are calling to me. - Arya, ACoK

Once, from the crest of a ridge, she spied dark shapes crossing a stream in the valley behind them, and for half a heartbeat she feared that Roose Bolton’s riders were on them, but when she looked again she realized they were only a pack of wolves. She cupped her hands around her mouth and howled down at them, “Ahooooooooo, ahooooooooo.” When the largest of the wolves lifted its head and howled back, the sound made Arya shiver. - Arya ASoS

Nymeria keeps amassing this huge wolf pack and Arya being a strong warg can sense this

She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. - Arya, ASoS

She dreamed of wolves most every night. A great pack of wolves, with her at the head. She was bigger than any of them, stronger, swifter, faster. And her brothers and sisters were with her, many and more of them, fierce and terrible and hers. - Arya, ASoS

In her wolf dreams she was swift and strong, running down her prey with her pack at her heels. - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

The wolf dreams also helps Arya connect to Bran, Jon and Rickon. We see Ghost able to sense the other direwolves and Bran trying to communicate with Jon.

Nymeria is a grey wolf and the stark sigil is a grey wolf on a white background.

“The rain had washed the guard’s blood off her fingers, she wore a sword across her back, wolves were prowling through the dark like lean grey shadows, and Arya Stark was unafraid.” - Arya, ACoK

“Arya had her father’s eyes, the grey eyes of the Starks.” - Reek, ADwD

What’s in a name? I have already mentioned in another post, the symbolism of the names for the direwolves and them being an indication of the future for the Starks. Arya’s direwolf is named Nymeria – a Rhoynish warrior queen who led her people to safety. Something that Arya may well do in the future when the North is under attack from the Others.

More importantly, Nymeria in Dorne changed the customs and rules of house Martell to follow those of Rhoynar and allowed for female rulers. Nymeria herself was the first female leader and was followed by her daughter. Nymeria changed the norm for Dorne and we could see the same happening with Arya Stark in the North.

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Skills and Education

Look with your eyes, Syrio had said, listen with your ears.- Arya, ACoK

Education at Winterfell:

Arya was mainly taught by Septa Mordane and received the same education as Sansa. She would have been taught history and about the Faith by the Septa, she can read and write, and is good with sums. She’s better than Sansa at managing a household. She can ride a horse like a Northman and is an excellent swimmer. She knows some high Valyrian. Besides the Septa, Arya also hangs around Ned Stark when he is teaching the boys. Many of his words of wisdom that she remembers is from when he is teaching the boys. She mingles with her father’s men, the cooks, the stable boys etc.

Kings Landing:

Water Dancing style of swordfighting from Syrio Forel.

Harrenhal:

Being incognito allows Arya to move around like a mouse or the ghost of Harrenhal and observe and learn things. She is privy to Roose Bolton’s war council and listens to them discuss the Northern campaign against the Lannisters. We get the first inkling of the Red Wedding in these chapters between Roose and the Freys.

Arya observes the different people, analyzes their movements and figures out how to approach them.

The night she was caught, the Lannister men had been nameless strangers with faces as alike as their nasal helms, but she’d come to know them all. You had to know who was lazy and who was cruel, who was smart and who was stupid. You had to learn that even though the one they called Shitmouth had the foulest tongue she’d ever heard, he’d give you an extra piece of bread if you asked, while jolly old Chiswyck and soft-spoken Raff would just give you the back of their hand. - Arya, ACoK

And as lords and ladies never notice the little grey mice under their feet, Arya heard all sorts of secrets just by keeping her ears open as she went about her duties. Pretty Pia from the buttery was a slut who was working her way through every knight in the castle. The wife of the gaoler was with child, but the real father was either Ser Alyn Stackspear or a singer Lord Lefford made mock of ghosts at table, but always kept a candle burning by his bed. Ser Dunaver’s squire Jodge could not hold his water when he slept. The cooks despised Ser Harys Swyft and spit in all his food. Once she even overheard Maester Tothmure’s serving girl confiding to her brother about some message that said Joffrey was a bastard and not the rightful king at all. “Lord Tywin told him to burn the letter and never speak such filth again,” the girl whispered. - Arya, ACoK

She aids in the escape of the near hundred Northmen imprisoned in the dungeons and even Roose is impressed enough to make her his cupbearer. And the next time, she conceives of, plans and executes their entire escape all by herself. She plans for the logistics – weapons, transportation, people, travel route, what to wear. She makes sure she is warmly dressed, takes the map from Roose’s chamber, uses her position of cupbearer to manipulate several men, manipulates Gendry into escaping with her, takes down the guard and leads them away. It’s an endeavor that showcases her intelligence, cunning, determination, ability to strategize and lead.

Arya also shows a lot of restraint and keeps her secrets. She doesn’t trust the Glovers or any of the Northmen in Harrenhal - and considering the Red Wedding, it’s a good decision.

Their captors permitted no chatter. A broken lip taught Arya to hold her tongue. Others never learned at all. - Arya, ACoK

Arya watched them die and did nothing. What good did it do you to be brave? One of the women picked for questioning had tried to be brave, but she had died screaming like all the rest. There were no brave people on that march, only scared and hungry ones. - Arya, ACoK

On the road Arya had felt like a sheep, but Harrenhal turned her into a mouse. She was grey as a mouse in her scratchy wool shift, and like a mouse she kept to the crannies and crevices and dark holes of the castle, scurrying out of the way of the mighty.- Arya, ACoK

Braavos:

Arya’s education here is not limited to killing for the Faceless Men. She is also educated in poisons and languages. She improves on her high Valyrian and is now fluent in Braavosi and other Essosi languages. She learns acting/mummery. Not showing emotions on one’s face, detecting emotions in another person.

“A man does not need to be a wizard to know truth from falsehood, not if he has eyes. You need only learn to read a face. Look at the eyes. The mouth. The muscles here, at the corners of the jaw, and here, where the neck joins the shoulders.” He touched her lightly with two fingers. “Some liars blink. Some stare. Some look away. Some lick their lips. Many cover their mouths just before they tell a lie, as if to hide their deceit. Other signs may be more subtle, but they are always there. A false smile and a true one may look alike, but they are as different as dusk from dawn. Can you tell dusk from dawn?”

Arya nodded, though she was not certain that she could. “Then you can learn to see a lie… and once you do, no secret will be safe from you.” - Arya, AFFC

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People skills

“I will remember, Your Grace," said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people's loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I'll make them love me.” - Sansa, ACoK

Arya’s ability to make friends wherever she goes highlights her people skills. And Arya is able to communicate and connect with people from all walks of life.

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody. - Sansa, AGoT

She had loved listening to the men on the benches too; to freeriders tough as leather, courtly knights and bold young squires, grizzled old men-at-arms. She used to throw snowballs at them and help them steal pies from the kitchen. Their wives gave her scones and she invented names for their babies and played monsters-and-maidens and hide-the-treasure and come-into-my-castle with their children., Arya, AGoT

Cat had made friends along the wharves; porters and mummers, ropemakers and sailmenders, taverners, Brewers and bakers and beggars and whores - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

Her girls were nice as well; Blushing Bethany and the Sailor’s Wife, one-eyed Yna who could tell your fortune from a drop of blood, pretty little Lanna, even Assadora, the Ibbenese woman with the mustache. They might not be beautiful, but they were kind to her - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

She’s also loyal to her pack. She doesn’t betray Jon even to her father. She helps free her father’s men. Despite Gendry talking of leaving Lommy or Weasel behind, she refuses. And despite the odds, she tries to help Gendry.

It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that they had Gendry. Even if he was stubborn and stupid, she had to get him out. She wondered if they knew that the queen wanted him. - Arya, ACoK

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Importance of being a Warg/Skinchanger

She was the night wolf, no scraps of skin could frighten her. - Arya, ADwD

Since this is a fantasy series, magic is a big part of the story with a magical existential apocalyptic threat on the horizon. The North is the first bastion facing this threat. Jon and Dany both have magical pets and prophetic dreams. Bran is the 3ER. They are leaders or will become leaders by the end. Arya is a strong warg/skinchanger. Apart from Jon and Bran, she’s the only other Stark to use these abilities so far. As GRRM as indicated, having a direwolf is going to be useful in battle – we are going to be seeing direwolves involved in the battle for Winterfell for example. Arya is able to warg Nymeria from all the way over in Braavos. She skinchanges cats and sees through their eyes, when she is blind. She is deft with a sword, knife and decent with a bow and arrow (she could be better now using her FM senses). She would be an effective fighter to have against the Others and her warging skills could prove useful in battle.

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Succession

I’m not a lady, Arya wanted to tell her, I’m a wolf. - Arya, ASoS

And finally we come to succession. This is the hardest part and entirely speculation and we need the next book to get an inkling of where GRRM is heading towards. I am also basing all of this on Hibberd more or less confirming that King Bran on the Iron Throne is GRRM’s ending.

So of the true born Starks, Arya is pretty much last in line. With the inclusion of Robb’s will, we have 5 Starks left. Bran is the rightful heir to the North. Taking him out of the running, leaves Jon, Rickon, Sansa and Arya. Assuming Jon ends up North of the wall – in his dreams the Old Kings in the North in the crypts reject him, maybe foreshadowing that he doesn’t belong in Winterfell - that leaves Rickon, Sansa and Arya.

As for Sansa, again there is a plot significant reason for why GRRM has put an obstacle in her path, allowing for Arya to jump the queue. Sansa is currently married to Tyrion Lannister, a marriage that cannot be easily annulled (With an enemy regime in KL) or ignored like the show did. Robb Stark has most likely disinherited/removed her from the line of succession and named a legitimized Jon Stark his heir and Lord of Winterfell. If he has the support of the Northern houses who want an experienced, older Stark to lead them, Jon Stark could well be the next KITN over Rickon Stark. I don’t think a 7 year old Rickon would object to Jon in charge. So that makes it Jon Stark, Rickon Stark and Arya Stark.

Does Rickon have to die for Arya to become Wardeness of the North? It’s possible Rickon dies, but it’s also possible he doesn’t. It could be that Rickon does not want to lead the North – by the end of the book, he would be 8 or 9. Of course there’s the argument of a regent doing the job for Rickon until he’s ready. Or, he could just give way to his sister because he wants to. Something similar to Aemon refusing the throne and it passing to his younger brother Aegon.

Or we could have the traditional situation where Rickon becomes lord of Winterfell as next in line, while it’s Arya who is involved in running the day to day affairs. However, that would very much be status quo - with Rickon at WF and Bran down south in KL, it would be men ending up in positions of power everywhere once again, except maybe Dorne. If this happens, then Arya would be a leader of the North, but the Stark line would continue with the male line.

It’s possible Jon Stark as King could change things for the North. Jon treats the spearwives the same as the brothers of the NW, he respects Val’s abilities, he trusts in Alys Karstark. If Rickon refuses the mantle, it could very well be that Jon Stark relinquishes his position to his favorite person ever, Arya Stark, to be the next Wardeness of the North. Thus paving the way for Arya Stark to be the first female leader of the North like her hero Nymeria in Dorne.

It would be fitting for the character who introduced Jon Snow to equal rights for women.

“The Lannisters are proud,” Jon observed. “You’d think the royal sigil would be sufficient, but no. He makes his mother’s House equal in honor to the king’s.”

“The woman is important too!” Arya protested. - Arya, AGoT

Could King Jon reverse Sansa’s disinheritance after her marriage is annulled when KL is in friendly hands? Sure. But we don’t know how the Sansa/LF/Vale group will react to Jon as KITN and whether they will mount a challenge in Sansa’s name. And if Jon has to choose between Sansa and Arya as to whom he wants in charge of Winterfell, we know who it is he will think is more capable and will always choose.

I do think Winterfell succession will not be as clearcut as many Stark fans are hoping. Too many factions supporting the different Starks. GRRM loves to write about dysfunctional families and the Starks are not anything special in that regard. TWoW will tell us of whether there will be any kind of Stark civil war.

Is Arya too young for all this? I predict that by the time we get to the end of the books, about 5 years would have gone by. At 14, Arya would still need a regent – one of the many lords of the houses in the North. But I think considering her experiences, skillsets, a huge direwolf, Ned Stark’s wisdom and strong connections to the North, she will be an able leader. As GRRM said,

“[Arya is] older than some of the 40-year-olds in the book.” - GRRM

Either way, whether she gets Winterfell or not, Arya will end up as a leader in the North. Either she rules for Rickon and takes care of the day to day responsibilities or she does so in her own right as Lady of Winterfell/Wardeness of the North. She’s not going anywhere or sailing off on a boat. The show’s ending makes absolutely no sense for a character yearning for home in 5 books after going on the nightmare ‘adventure’ from hell. She will be in the North, in Winterfell, being a leader and continuing Ned Stark’s legacy. She will counsel her brothers and build and her people will love her just like they loved her father.

So in conclusion, I think there is enough story, character build up, characterization and set up for Arya to go North and take over as a leader of house Stark to face the threat of the Others along with Bran, Jon, Dany and Tyrion.

#Arya Stark #asoiaf #TWoW speculation

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pen-observing · 3 years

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when the sun goes down

synopsis: you are a seelie spirit of the sun that once lived before Snezhnaya got the name oposite of your existance. you are part of the lost history and childe meets you when he is lost himself. promising to hold his hand was both a blessing and a curse.

warnings: mentions of blood, implied death word count: 1k MASTERLIST

when he was seven childe ran away from home as an act of blatant rebellion. looking back on it he is aware just how naïve it was; the idea and concept of being able to run away from problems. they never left him alone and he doubts anyone got a satisfactory ending from footprints in the snow and a door slammed in the face of others. his steps, his high belief and small puffs of air that appeared as he was running just mark naivety but also wonder for what came later on. the wonder that was you.

childe does not remember what made him turn left instead of right that day. unfamiliar roads simply had to mean his freedom back then even if there were stories created just to scare kids like him away. he is not a fool. he knows that the most this snow of his homeland hides is simply crime and treachery. he sees it in his father’s eyes. There is no groke* waiting in hiding – there is only hidden wounds.

that is the reason he ran away. others were unwilling to answer his questions even if he knew his fate was inevitable. he simply had to know the truth at that moment but in the next one – he wishes that he did not turn left because he was both lost literally and figuratively. what was there to do? sit in the middle of the snow, bring his chin to his knees and pray that others were not afraid to find him.

and then entered you. childe was so, so cold and when he felt your gentle hand on his head, he swears he started breathing again. he swears that it was made of sunlight just for him.

“do not be afraid.” what a melodious voice. “we all get lost sometimes.”

he knows your words were meant to be comforting and from that feeling of comfort he finally felt safe enough to cry. you stood still for a second but then he felt your arms embracing him and playing with his hair until he calmed down. and when he did; he moved away and simply grabbed your hand.

“did you know you glow?”

how charming. You looked at him and smiled, nodding your head. What a question. did you, the very spirit of the sun, know you glow? dis words were so comforting for your identity. childe’s eyes looked even brighter now that they were done crying and looking in your direction. the human eye has always taken in light; filled themselves with it.

“yes, i know. i am the spirit of the sun to put it simply.” “sun? ...in this land of snow?”

he was less foolish than you initially thought.

“did you run away because you felt wronged, boy?” “h-how did you know?” “because that feeling is connected to why I am here. I will tell you my story if you agree to go home afterwards.”

he agreed. and you told him what it meant to be a spirit of the sun in this cruel land.

“i am a seelie, not a spirit, to be exact. i hold the power of the sunlight. my kind has been on this land long before your kind came to us and long before it looked like this. when i came to exist, there was no snow.”

he took in all of your light but you did not mind it. he was a pure soul so unlike to the humans that were so greedy for light that meant your demise. they were so greedy that punishment came and the snow fell over everything. in a true tragic manner – it meant your end as well. but there is no reason for him to know that, right? Why should he?

“because of circumstance, i now only have so much power to show myself once a year for a day to see what has become of my own home. i am glad that i did it today to meet someone as pure as you.”

childe looked down for a moment, gazed into the snow that meant your end.

“does that mean...does that mean that when the sun goes down you will leave as well?”

“yes, that is why we have to hurry. i need to show you the way back so you can go to your home.”

he did not say anything after that. hand in hand you two walked the trail he came by. while he was not foolish, he was still a small boy and forgot that the snow showed his footprints. the weak sun was sinking but the lights of his house were already on; probably making sure he could see where to come to.

“hey!” “hmm? why aren’t you going in? you promised me.” “if you are a spirit, can you grant wishes?” “that depends on what your wish is.” “i want you to see me again and hold my hand like this when you get enough power back!”

how pure. how utterly pure. you promised him that you would and now childe curses himself for that because you shouldn't come and see him like this. you shouldn’t come and see him on the snow, in his own blood, because; because he is sure the homeland will hide it like all of the other secrets beneath a white veil. the being of the sun should not be in the presence of the man betrayed by his own affiliations. yet, you are. because the same thing happened to you eons ago.

childe closes his eyes when he feels your hand reach for his own as you lay down next to him – he is unable to look at you.

“i am here. i promised.” “i know.” “you just got lost along the way again. i swear, you are as pure as the first time i met you.” he knows that you are lying. he knows that your light should not touch his blood or hold his sinful hand like this. still, your eternal light is starting to slip from him; the warmth is slowly leaving – he holds your hand tighter than ever before.

the first time he learned to breathe from your touch; this time he is desperately fighting to recreate that miracle. you hold his hand as the sun goes down but this time - both of you disappear.

* groke - is a fictional character in the Moomin stories created by Tove Jansson. she appears as a ghost-like, hill-shaped body with two cold staring eyes and a wide row of white shiny teeth. wherever she stands, the ground below her freezes and plants and grass die. she leaves a trace of ice and snow when she walks the ground. anything that she touches will freeze.

#genshin impact #genshin childe #childe x reader #ajax x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #angst #reader is a seelie #tw: blood #tw: death #i am going through it and childe is my outlet for hurt in this fandom apparently #genshin impact x reader #childe #genshin impact scenarios #tartagalia x reader

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sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years

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Emotion (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: Kakashi again...can't get enough of this mans tbh. U r an empath due to your kekkei genkai and Kakashi has always been difficult to read. Friend to lovers. Sharing one bed folks, we got some steamyyy shit here. Angst warning as well.

Word count: 6000

He was always alone. Ever since his childhood, he walked the world completely alone with only a few people there to support him. No mother, no father, no mentor, no teammates. He was at the mercy of fate his entire life, things being stolen from him time and time again.

He just prayed that he could keep her. Y/N L/N, the only woman to have wormed her way into his heart and made a home there.

When they first met, Kakashi and Y/N, she cursed him for being such a weirdo. Apparently his mind was empty and his heart was seemingly full of sand. He was conditioned that way, and that is how he lived for the longest time. It wasn't a surprise for him to hear that.

But she thought it was stranger than anything she'd ever seen, and so she followed him. She would figure him out, bring him back down to Earth from his supposed high horse. That woman was determined, and frankly he didn't mind her being around. She was quiet enough that it didn't matter. Not to mention on the missions they had together, she was quite the partner.

Over time, she'd learned to read him like a book. It was part of her clan's kekkei genkai. The ultimate empath, I suppose. The ability to read a persons every single emotion and then turn that, if they so choose, into power.

She was never the greatest fighter, but her negotiation skills were the best they could possibly be. She would dive into the emotions of another and manipulate them backwards and forwards to get what she wanted.

It was overwhelming, walking into a room of people and immediately being bombarded with so many feelings coming at her all at once. Occasionally, if the situation was bad enough she'd have to take a seat and clear her mind, organizing each person in her mind like a filing cabinet of empathy.

But damn, did she try to weasel out every bit of feeling she could. It was just something that came so naturally, she couldn’t help but instigate whatever was brewing up inside him.

"Kakashi, if you're happy, you know you're allowed to express it. You don't have to hide it away," she told him, staring at the masked man sitting across from her at the table. He was watching as she sharpened her kunai, and she could feel the content running off his body in small bursts. He was feeling better. Better than he had in a little while. Of course she picked up on it.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. She was always reading him, he knew that. He just preferred when she refrained from mentioning it. It did, most times, feel like a bit of an invasion of privacy, how she could deep dive into the corners of his mind. There were things no one else could ever possibly know that she did. It was strange, but he was used to it.

"What? Want me to smile or something?"

"No, but you should let yourself go. Just drop the facade."

"Stop doing that. Getting into my head."

Quietly, she set down her blade and picked up the next one, taking a cloth and softly wiping away any dirt. Her eyes slide up to his for a moment, her all knowing gaze filling his vision. "It's basically impossible. Especially if you're the only one around. There's nothing else to focus on except you." He knew that. It wasn't like she had an on or off switch. That was the downside of this dojutsu. Unlike sharingan and byakugan users, hers was always pulling the strings of her brain.

"You've got that mission next week. With Naruto and a few of the other kids, right?"

"Yes."

"It's A rank, isn't it?"

She hummed in agreement. He had a habit of knowing about all her missions, more importantly being the dangerous ones. He wasn't necessarily scared for her, probably not. He was more cautious than anything. There was this nagging feeling in his head that he shouldn't let her go on these missions alone. That it was too dangerous for her to handle.

But he was wrong. She was stronger than he thought, and could hold her own in battle. He was just a worrier. He'd just lost too many, seen too many bodies in front of his eyes to trust. God, he wanted to trust her, but he couldn't. She was too vulnerable. His friend, one of the only ones who hadn't died yet. For all he knew, her days numbered, that's how paranoid he was about everything.

"You'll be careful?"

"That's a silly question." He gave her a look that said he was more serious than anything, and she sighed. "Of course I'll be careful. I have people that would miss me if I wasn't." He was one of them. She could sense his fear whenever she said goodbye and his relief when she returned. He really tried to remain objective, but his heart said otherwise.

And she would be a liar to say that she did not experience the same relief seeing him come home from missions, even if he was beaten and bruised to the bone, she was just happy he made it back. So many never got to come home. It was a sick world, they lived in, but she could relish in the little comforts.

"Don't worry about me. I'll always turn out fine. It's you and your dumb students we have to worry about."

"I hear you. Those kids are enough to drive a person mad." He rested his chin in his palm, the mere thought of those kids causing his blood pressure to rise.

"Thankfully my students never gave me any trouble. Sweet little things."

"Well, aren't you just lucky, Y/N?"

"What can I say? Kurenai and I got the luck of the draw with our students. You men had it rough, I have to admit," she laughed. It was funny that he was so unfortunate to have gotten assigned the Uchiha and the Uzumaki, two completely opposite but persistent forces. "Despite your perverted tendencies and your perpetual lateness, you still did a great job teaching them."

"Thanks. But do you really have to call me a pervert? I'm really not."

"Yeah? That explains why you read porn in public. Admit you're a pervert, you dumb old man."

"We're the same age-" he began to argue, but she just cut him off with her harsh words.

"Creep," she muttered, running the sharpening stone along her blade. He narrowed his eyes. She was being awfully annoying, and he knew she could sense his irritation building up. Yet she continued just to be a pain in the ass.

He warned, "Hey. Watch it, L/N."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop...Pervert." She ducked her head when his hand reached out to wring her around the neck for being so frustrating, and she continued to laugh. It was nice, having a friend she could joke with and be around without having to worry about what she said. He might pretend to be mad, but she could feel the happiness still rolling off his body thickly under all that fake neutrality.

He was happier than he'd been in a long while, and she found herself swelling with pride knowing that she might have helped make that happen. Her lips curled into the gentlest of smiles as she peered back up at him, and he found himself smiling back even if it was just through the mask.

He swore in that moment, he'd make sure Y/N didn't end up like all the others. She would live. He'd break this wretched curse just for her. He was sure of it.

______

"How could you be so reckless?! Do you want to die?" Kakashi shouted at his friend who could only stand there angrily, arms crossed over her chest and one foot in the other direction. She didn't need to be lectured by someone who took just as many risks every single mission as she did.

"Kakashi, I really don't want to hear it. You have no idea how it went."

"Yeah but Naruto does, and we were just talking."

She placed her free hand over her chest and exclaimed even angrier than before, "You're going to trust a kid over me? Naruto even?" It was just low to trust Naruto when she was right there to explain herself. Just let her speak for once, she wanted to say but he of course, had something else to say.

He waved his arm toward the ramen shop, eyes glaring. "Don’t be rude. He's right there. What is wrong with you?"

Indeed, Naruto was sitting inside Ichiraku with Jiraiya at his side, munching on pork ramen while the pair fought outside. Kakashi was eating with them, taking a break from his work to just relax with his master and student when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Y/N stumbling down the street on her crutch.

He heard when she got back home that she was in the infirmary for a couple days. He had no idea for what reason until Naruto explained to him what happened. She was being needlessly reckless on the battlefield, relying too much on her kekkei genkai and not enough on her brain. She threw herself right in the way of an enemy, for what reason, he didn't know. All he knew was that she could have died and she didn't seem to care one bit.

Rightfully so, he was mad. Normally he preferred not to make a scene in the open like this, but there wasn't anyone else around and he was red-hot.

She huffed. "He knows I don't mean anything bad by that. How could he not? I'm also his sensei, you know."

"Doesn't matter," Kakashi brushed off her words. "What you did was dangerous and you don't seem to care. Next time what are you gonna do? Run right into the arms of the enemy?"

"No, I would never. Kakashi, you're just being a jerk right now. I'm literally injured from the hip down and you have to yell at me? Jeez, just be grateful I'm alive, okay? Things happen," she tried to reason with him, but he didn't acknowledge it. He wasn't exactly feeling all that rational.

"Things don't just happen like that."

She groaned, "Well apparently they do, because it happened to me."

His eye narrowed and she noticed the way he clenched and unclenched his fists a couple times by his sides. Clearly he was just trying to channel his anger, but he really had no reason to be so upset. She hadn't done anything to him. He really needed to relax. "This is so like you L/N's. Always so emotional. Always thinking you're stronger than you actually are."

"Excuse you-"

"Get a grip, you aren't going to live forever."

"First off, don't interrupt me. Second, don't talk about my clan ever again, you hear me, Hatake? We don't live to please your dumbass," she cursed, how dare he say shit about her clan. That asshole. He was just being so...so unlike himself. She had no idea what had gotten into him, but she hated it and just wanted to continue on her way before he said something else stupid.

Normally, she didn't expect to be bombarded in the street nearly the second she leaves the hospital, but Kakashi never fails to surprise her.

"I've got to go. Don't bother following me." With that, she took off past him, rushing as fast as she could on her crutch, which was pathetically slow. Silently, she cringed at how ridiculous she must look waddling around like this in a fit of rage. Nevermind that. She had better things to do.

He huffed out the breath he had been holding to walk back into the ramen shop, taking his seat beside Naruto and slouching down into the stool. Immediately, Master Jiraiya met his eyes, wisdom about to drip from his tongue once again. "You need to go apologize."

"Why? She clearly doesn't want that right now."

"Well, to start, you insulted her clan which is a big no-no. Imagine saying that to an Uchiha. You're lucky she let you off so easily."

"Yeah, Kakashi. You kinda just attacked her out there in the street," Naruto added.

Jiraiya continued, "Mainly though, the longer you let her stay angry, the worse it'll be for you in the end. Trust me."

"She said don't follow her."

"And you're actually going to listen?" The older man laughed. "You and her fighting reminded me a lot of young Tsunade and I. And let me tell you, you don't just let a woman like that go. I sure did. It’s not a fun time."

"Yeah, Kakashi sensei, go find Y/N."

The jounin stood from his stool and slapped a ramen voucher onto the counter top to pay for his meal. This really didn't seem like a good idea, he had to admit. But he would trust the process. This was the author of his favorite romance series, after all. How could he get something like this wrong? To put blind faith into Jiraiya on realistic romantic matters was probably the not the wisest thing to do, but it was the only thing he had to go on. "I'll go, but this doesn't sound like good advice."

"If you let this go, she's might run into the arms of another man for comfort. Do you want that?"

Tch, there was no way she was gonna do that. She barely had any friends. If anything she would go see Kurenai. Still, he pulled back the cloth at the entrance and muttered, "I gotta catch up to her."

"'Atta boy," Jiraiya cheered, waving off the copy nin. "Another bowl, Naruto?"

"Yes, please!"

Kakashi walked down the streets, looking for the woman he was sent on a mission to find and apologize to. He searched through the shops and the stands for her, walked by her apartment no sign of her. It wasn't until he stumbled by the bookstore that he found her eyeing down the display out front, leaning comfortably on her crutch.

"Y/N," he called to her, and he watched as she tensed up without a second. He caught up to her, walking to stand beside her in front of the store windows. "I need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" She questioned, peering over at him with a quirked brow. He seemed calmed down by now. Thankfully. "Also, didn't I tell you not to follow me?"

"You did, but Jiraiya told me to apologize."

"So this isn't even on your own accord, you're doing it because Jiraiya told you so." He groaned. Of course she would twist his words and find some way to make things bad on his end. She was angry with him, what did he expect to happen? Her to accept him with open arms?

"Listen, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I was just overwhelmed."

"With what? I wasn't paying attention to anything but the anger." She picked at her finger nails in an attempt to remain casual, but really she was just itching to hear what he had to say. She was willing to give him a second chance, only because he was normally so sweet. This was just out of character for him.

He replied, "I was scared for you. Naruto told me about how you nearly died, and I was upset that you did that. I was upset because I could only think about what if you had been overpowered and the enemy killed you." His explanation was weak, but he hoped she would accept it as truth. He really wasn't lying. When he heard she was in the hospital indefinitely, he nearly had a heart attack himself. He worried for her every time she left on a mission without him. It just meant that if she failed, he wasn't there to protect her himself. He couldn't handle that thought.

"So you were worried?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's sweet of you, isn't it?"

"I'd miss you, you know. If you died."

She froze. That wasn't what she expected him to say. When she looked over at him, he was just staring into the storefront window, but she could feel the sadness in waves running off his body. She wobbled around on her crutch to face him, a hand getting coming up to rest on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"I don't want you going on missions without me because every time it scares the shit out of me thinking they'll bring you back dead. Every time. I don't know why."

"It's normal to worry for your teammates."

"It's not the same, and you know it."

"Ah." And she felt it. Even if it was just a little hint of something, she felt his infatuation roll off his body and she took it in like a drink of cold water. So refreshing. Was he attracted to her? She had no idea before this that he cared so much but from the sound of it, he had some strong feelings attached. She wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him it was going to be okay, but that felt too personal. Instead, she leant back and muttered, "You know, Kakashi, I worry about you too."

"It's good we both have someone who cares, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I should be on my way, but, uh, if you need some help getting up to your apartment-"

"I should be fine."

"Okay, good."

"Yeah, so uh, see you," she turned on her heel and started heading in the other direction toward her home when suddenly, his hand reached out to stop her.

"Wait, Y/N. I think..."

"What is it?"

"It's just that I need you. Please be careful from now on."

She stopped, turning around just enough to get a good look at his face. He only watched her, a glimmer of something she didn't recognize in his eye.

"As long as you take care of yourself too, Mister."

"Y/N, I…"

All she could feel was a rough fabric rubbing against her face for a second before the full picture came into view.

Mask to lips. I repeat, mask to lips.

She stared at him, as he kissed her right there in front of their favorite bookstore. When he pulled away after a second, he seemed just as shocked as she was. She pressed a hand to her forehead and struggled to find the right words to say.

Kakashi Hatake just kissed her.

And she definitely liked it. More than any other kiss she’d ever had before. She loved it. Mask or not, that was one of the best surprises of her entire life, and she honestly had no idea how to react. She settled for the easiest possible thing, running in the opposite direction, give herself time to think over what that meant for the two of them if anything at all. Kakashi wasn’t the type to have a girlfriend, he was always single. There just wasn’t room in his life for her.

There was plenty room in her life to fit him in comfortably. And there was more than enough room in her bed as well.

Flustered, with heat coming to sit in her cheeks and run up her neck, she turned and motioned in the direction of her home. She just had too many thoughts to sit here and pretend she wasn’t dying inside from the tension.

"I've got to run home now," she managed to say. "Well, not run, with these crutches and all, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I should be going too. I'll see you around,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck.

"See you."

And into separate directions they went, just as confused as ever.

______

"Kakashi, I swear to God, if you don't stay on your side of the bed, I'm gonna-

"You'll what? Hit me? Go ahead. You're the one that keeps snoring."

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, rolling over in the bed and planting her fist directly in the middle of his chest. He didn't even flinch, she hadn't meant to hurt him anyway. She was just so annoyed. You would think that the stoic Hatake would be easy to sleep beside but no, he was a pain in the ass. He was rude. He was way too hot under the sheets. He still smelled like dog even after taking a bath. Just overall a bad experience, definitely 0 out of 10.

"What? It's the truth."

She groaned, throwing one of her arms over her eyes, burying her nose in the crook of her elbow. "Whatever. Don't ever mention my snoring again. It’s embarrassing me." She was self-conscious. She was usually so good at maintaining a cool and calm presence and now Kakashi was seeing that all crumble. Great.

"Fine."

"Can't you just stay on your side so we can both sleep comfortably?"

"Can't you just stop snoring so I can sleep comfortably?"

What a bastard. She could practically feel him snickering beneath his mask, and she felt frustration bubbling up in her chest. He was annoying. The audacity of this man, laughing and causing trouble in the night when they clearly had a mission to continue tomorrow. She could actually feel the delight radiating off his form.

She jumped up from her spot and threw herself onto the man beside her, attempting to make a vicious grab for the throat so she could maybe shut him up for just a few seconds. He dodged easily, taking her wrists in his calloused hand and lowering them to rest on his chest. Still, he continued to laugh at her. She felt like an utter joke sitting there on his stomach, looking at him through loose strands of her hair.

She grumbled under her breath, her cheeks puffing out full of embarrassment, "Stupid."

"Me? Stupid? Look at you."

She replied swiftly, "What about me? You're the one with that ugly grin on your face." Quickly, she snatched her hands out from under his to cross her arms over her chest. She rocked back a bit on her knees to get a better look at his indeed ugly face.

Except he definitely wasn't ugly, and that grin was more devilishly handsome than anything else. And honestly, she felt herself starting to get flustered in the position she'd put herself in. Of course she didn't hate Kakashi. He was one of her friends and coworkers. It was just that sometimes he could be casually attractive and she found herself falling under his spell.

He just looked so fucking good lying there, staring up at her with a glimmer in his dark eyes. She could see the smile outlined under his mask. His hands had felt warm and firm around her own fingers. She missed his touch, there she said it, any touch on her body from Kakashi Hatake felt like heaven. He was far too cute, and the soft contact between them drove her crazy.

She wanted to punch herself for thinking such silly things. This was Kakashi, one of her frenemies. Not boyfriend material. Stupid. Silly.

If only he didn't look so good, Jesus christ. Get your brain out of the gutter, Y/N.

Little did she know, his mind was already waist deep in those damn gutters and he was loving it.

"You really think that?"

"What? That you're ugly?" She asked, tilting her head to the side just a bit as if to think about it. Only a second later, another mischievous smile crossed her lips. "Of course."

He lifted his fingers to slid along her waist and down to her hips, fingers curling ever so slightly around her curves. She shuddered as his hands slid down to hold the sides of her bare thighs in his hands, his warm, strong hands with the softest fingertips. She wanted to die.

Had they kissed before? Yes. We're they somewhat romantically involved? Maybe. Did that give him any good reason to rest his rough hands on her thighs like that? Probably, and her thoughts were running a mile a minute at this point.

"Kakashi...stop that," she said softly, her voice lowering from how it was before. She suddenly felt a lot smaller, scared even. Hooking up with Kakashi wasn't something she planned on doing anytime in the near future, if at all. He was her friend, and she felt strange sitting in his lap with his hands all over her. It felt so right but wrong at the same time, like she was breaking the law. Well, laws of friendship that is.

She cared about Kakashi, more than she wanted to admit. He wasn't just a friend, he was something weirdly in between and she couldn't exactly put her finger on how she felt about him. All she knew was that if she was going to have sex with this man, it would be the right way. They would have to date first. She wasn't just gonna sleep around this time. He was different.

She wanted to impress him, to make him smile and laugh, to take him out to dinner and hold hands on their way home, to kiss at her doorstep. She wanted all of that before any of this.

His hands dropped from her sides and she crawled away from him, grabbing her blanket and cradling herself in it. "Listen, Y/N, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I know, it's not your fault. Don't worry about it."

It was quiet. Just the sounds of both their breaths filling the air and the crickets chirping in the darkness outside. She shifted in her blanket to rest her head on the wall, leaning against it with her shoulder. He remained on his back, staring up at the empty ceiling tiles.

It was now so terribly awkward. Thanks, Y/N.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You, uh, don't snore all that much. I was just teasing you."

"Thanks," she exhaled. "You're not as ugly as I said."

"I know."

Wow, Kakashi. So modest.

Her words fell right into place as she spoke, emotions slipping out with each breath. She looked at his profile in the dark, the way his bedhead stood on end, his nose pointed upward and his lips sat calmly, the curve of his chin under the edge of his mask, the way his eyes just sat there unmoving and gentle, brows soft above the eye. She took in all of him as she confessed, "I just don't want it to be like this. I don't want to fall for you this way."

"I get it."

"I just think that you and I could be something different. You're not like the other guys to me, at least, I don't think of you that way," she took a deep breath. He still stared deep in the ceiling, and somehow it made her comfortable enough to confess everything she'd been feeling. It was as if he could just lay there and listen without words forever. "I don't want you to just fuck me before we really...well I don't know, we've never even been on a date. I...I think I'm ready to fall in love with you."

"Then let's do it."

She peered over at him, lips agape with surprise. She hadn't expected much at all, but certainly not that. "What?"

"When we get back to the village, I'll take you on a date, more if things go well. We can take it as slow as you want," he told her, turning to lay on his side, facing her. He watched as she cuddled further into the comforter, only a peek of her face in his view. She was actually kinda cute through all those worn and torn layers. "I don't think I can let you go this time."

"Really?"

"Anything for you."

She ducked her head down to stare at the hardwood beneath her feet. She was overwhelmed by how nice he was being. Normally, it didn't go like this. Things normally got sexual so quick there wasn't even a chance for these sorts of conversations. It was just different with Kakashi. She could say no to him and expect better, because she knew he could deliver. "No one has ever treated me like this before."

He smiled. "Well, it's about time someone did."

"Can you hold me?"

"Come on." He lifted his arm up with the covers attached so she could crawl over and burrow herself next him, tucked right against his side. He rested his arm around her shoulders and held her close to his chest. Things were looking good for the both of them. Better than they had in a long time.

He wished this kind of thing could last forever. The beating of her heart, the laughter in her voice, the shine in her eyes. He just wished he could have bottled it all up and held it close to him for the rest of his life.

But he waited too long, and the opportunity slipped from his grasp.

______

The pair fought hard. Kakashi was better than her, everyone knew that. The enemy targeted her for that reason. It was clear as day that she was important to Kakashi, and the enemy quickly caught onto that. He was quick to bring the knife to her neck, pressing the woman’s back tightly to his chest. The blade stung her skin, already piercing the flesh from the bit of pressure he applied.

She cried out, feeling a trail of blood begin running down her neck. Her nails clawed at his arm, desperate to get him to release her from his clutches, but he persisted. One hand held onto her chin tightly, keeping her face from thrashing, and the other continued to apply more and more pressure into the blade.

For the first time in a long time, she found herself feeling unrestricted fear. She was scared. Scared for her life. She’d never been in this situation before, feeling so completely and utterly helpless like a deer caught in the headlights. Kakashi was right there, she should have known everything was going to be okay. After all, she had the village’s strongest veteran on her side.

It wasn’t the pain that caused the tears to bubble up in the corners of her eyes, no, it was Kakashi. The way his eyes darted over to the them, and she could feel his heart beginning to race, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, and the fear creeping up into his heart. He never wore his heart on his sleeve. He was so closed off, sometimes she could only get a wisp of emotion from him, especially the ones that showed such vulnerability.

Now it all seemed to come tumbling out like a landslide. She was drowning in fear, his and her own.

“Let her go,” he called out, practically pleading with the man across from him, but it was in vain.

“Like I’d listen to some filthy leaf shinobi,” the spy replied angrily. He felt so hot, burning up with so much anger she wanted to throw up. What had they done to upset him this badly? Her jaw was starting to ache from being held so tightly, and she swore she could taste blood running down her throat. This was bad. This was so terribly, miserably bad.

Kakashi stood there, his hands hovering at his sides, unknowing of what to do. She was already bleeding out all over the collar of her shirt. If he made a single move, the man could easily finish the job with one fatal swipe. The copy nin felt cornered. Hopeless. What was there left to do? He’d let the love of his life fall in the hands of some petty criminal.

Come on, think of something. Anything. Just think of something.

“What? You upset I’ve got your little girlfriend here?”

God, he was so desperate. The man taunting him didn’t help at all. He just felt himself spiralling deeper into hopelessness. He bargained, “Please, just let her go. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

It wouldn’t work though. This man was set in his ways, and there was no changing that. He came into this fight knowing exactly what he wanted to do. And he was going to finish the job.

“This is for what you shinobi have done to my people,” he sneered before she felt the knife dip further into her neck, sliding painfully across her throat. He dropped her head from his grasp, and as soon as he had, her body crumbled down to the ground. She collapsed in a bleeding heap on the dirt.

The criminal quickly ran into the forest behind them, getting lost among the trees and the bushes within seconds. None of that mattered though. Kakashi could only run over to her limp body lying there on the ground, sputtering and coughing on thick blood filling her throat and lungs. Her cheeks and lips painted red now from spitting so much up. He fell to his knees beside her body, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a tear drip down his face.

She cried, hot tears running down her cheeks into the dirt on either side of her head. She cried for her pathetic self, having been attacked and injured in this way. She cried for Kakashi, feeling the pain and sadness, the panic, radiating off his form. She took in every emotion he was feeling, wanting to savor being with him for as long as she had, to fully take him in one last time.

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, his hands running over her hair and cheek, smearing blood on her skin and his fingers. “We’ll bring you back to the village. The Hokage can fix you.” His words were so soft into the air, like if he spoke any louder he would hurt her.

They both knew that none of what he was saying was true. She was as good as dead.

She lifted her hand weakly to sit on his other hand. “I…” The woman took a labored breath.. “Love you, Kashi.”

“No, no, no. Don’t say that,” he hushed her, feeling his heart grow heavier in his chest with every second that passed, every look at her bloody neck and face, her laboring chest as she took hopeless breaths. He was falling apart in this moment, desperate for fate to change, for her to magically be better. He choked, “You can’t die, Y/N.”

“It’s okay.” Her words were slurred and hard to hear, liquid bubbling up in her throat to the point she was almost incomprehensible. “I love you,” she confessed once again. She wanted those to be her last ever words to him, the words he would remember for the rest of his life. To know someone out there loved him more than anything else.

He had to know that he was her everything. He was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she was going to miss him so terribly wherever her soul went after this. She just wished there was more time to tell him everything she felt. Yet, time was passing faster than she thought, and all those words felt impossible.

“I love you, too. You have to live for me. Just keep breathing, it's going to be okay.”

“It...hurts.”

More misery erupted his chest, and he found himself wanting to scream. Tears dripped steadily down both his cheeks now as he watched this woman die in front of him, one of the only people he truly needed in his life. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry I let this happen to you.”

She nodded faintly, her eyes beginning to close. He was starting to panic. Was this his last moment to say goodbye? Their time together was so short, how was this fair? He’d already lost everyone he ever cared about, and now this? He felt like the gods were laughing down at him and his misfortune.

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know how I’ll do this without you.”

She didn’t respond, but she was still breathing.

“Y/N, please.”

And he watched as her chest fell still and her labored breaths were silent on his ears. He found himself gathering her form up against his chest, her head cradled in the crook of his neck, just sobbing into her hair, weeping for a long lasting love gone in an instant.

He carried her body home that day himself. Something he never anticipated happening, but should have prepared for. He always thought he was going to watch as someone else carried her home to him, death long gone before he had the chance to see. He never thought it would be right in front of him. He thought he could protect her, save her from the clutches of fate. He was so wrong.

Kakashi was alone once again.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto x reader #x reader #naruto #kakashi imagine #kakashi fanfic #kakashi one shot #naruto imagine #naruto oneshot #naruto fanfic #oneshot #fanfic #imagine #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x you

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immacaria · 3 years

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Eternity

Here comes the Day 3 with the prompt ‘Eternity’ from Beetober 2021 from @bloody-bee-tea! I took inspiration from this prompt of @mingcheng-prompts too and I kind od made myself cry a little but okay! Tears are mostly good, according to my sib and my mom. Anyways this is one is actually Mingcheng and it’s a reincarnation AU. The word count is 2504 words. This being said, I hope you guys enjoy this and stay safe and healthy!

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When it happened the first time, it was confusing and he was called crazy by some and a dreamer by others. Whispers that the gods had cursed him with the memories of the past went behind his back, ones that were sure that he had been too bad in his previous life and that death was a too easy escape for him. Not that Jiang Cheng didn’t agree with it all, he did, but he was angry at the gods nonetheless.

Because he had suffered in his previous life too, he had lost so many things already and now he had to live with the same memories as before. His siblings’ laugh and his nephew’s radiant smile, his best friend’s dramatic acts and his husband’s sleepy faces everyday in the morning right after he woke up. Now he had to live not only with the memories of his crimes, but with the memories of what could never be again. Maybe he had been too bad before and he did deserve all of it now.

But, as the lives passed, the memories built up, not fading or mixing as he expected them to. Jiang Cheng still remembered Wei Wuxian’s corny jokes that didn’t make sense anymore and Nie Mingjue’s little screams every time one of the younger disciples appeared out of nowhere and scared him. But, now, he remembered his mother in his second life, Liu Xiaotong, and her loud laugh and big hugs and the way his younger brother in his fourth life, Shen Yuan, had the bad habit of climbing trees to the highest branches and scaring the passersby with his screams too and he was happy did.

Every one of them had its happy moments and laughs, but they had hardships too, some more than others. He starved and suffered from the cold in some of them, always trying to give a more comfortable life to his younger siblings and cousins, and in others he was killed even before he could reach the adult age, sometimes for being rich and others as a punishment for his parents. All of them left memories behind, good or bad, and Jiang Cheng still prayed in every one of them that he would forget at least some of them.

He never did, though. So he tried to ignore them and more on with his life - or lives - until whatever sadistic and bastard god above tired out of playing with him and let him actually die. Or, at least, forget some of the memories. But, at some point,trying to ignore didn’t have any more effects and he was forced to face all that stayed behind, all the pain, all the despair and traumas.

But sometimes that countless memories came in hand, let it be as an instinct from a previous life or a memory from a historical moment he lived - because, yes, he ended up in some really fucked up moments - through and needed the knowledge. Even if he lost count of how many lives he had lived and the memories sometimes got mixed up, Still, every now and then, it was good to have the memories and Jiang Cheng almost thanked whatever sadistic god above for them.

Only, almost but if it was for him to thank anything it was the few times where he saw familiar faces around. Most of the time it was only one or two faces and he generally wasn’t connected at all to them. But, sometimes, he would reincarnate as a family member of one of them and his heart would always ache with the past memories and the hope of them remembering anything from the past. There was a time where he was born as Jiang Yanli’s older brother, Jin Zixuan was their neighbour and the whole time he was waiting for Wei Wuxian to appear too with his corny jokes and loud laugh but he never did.

It happened other times too, sometimes with both his siblings or just one of them, sometimes their dynamics changed way too much and others not so much. Everybody had appeared in his life one more time, from Yu Ziyuan to Jiang Yanli and Lan Xichen to Nie Huaisang, everybody minus Nie Mingjue. No matter how many times he searched, looked around and hoped, his husband would never be where he thought or even pass by him in the street just for him to see him one more time. But it never happened and, with his luck, it never would.

For example, this new life of his had everybody from his first life, but he was still to find Nie Mingjue. He was born as Jiang Yanli’s twin brother, Wei Wuxian’s older cousin - though the boy was raised as their brother - and the “second'' son of Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian because Yanli was born two minutes before him. Funny enough, at least for him, it was actually Jin Zixuan who had a crush on his sister first and acted like a fool.

Meng Yao was still Jin Zixuan’s brother, though he was raised as his cousin, and was the one to take his siblings out of their father’s reach. He and Lan Xichen were dating since high school and it was their fault that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji met and Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng were suffering now. Still, there were only two things that managed to surprise him in this new life: 1. After his parents divorced and his mother married Wen Zhuliu, of all people she could choose, she actually changed from that bitter and angered woman to someone happier and easier to deal with, someone that actually tried to understand others, and 2. There was something strange in the air, something off that he really couldn’t see, but if he had to guess, it would be the fact that literally everyone from his first life was there.

He discovered it soon enough, though. It was Saturday and they were making barbecue in his mother’s backyard - an activity he never thought he would see Yu Ziyuan participating in - when he discovered what it was. Unfortunately, it was hope. Hope that Nie Mingjue was among them and well, even if he didn’t remember anything, hope that this time he would at least see his husband dimples again. After all, this was too the first time that everyone from his first life was alive at the same time.

“Cheng-ge! Cheng-ge!” Wei Wuxian screamed from the other side of the backyard, waving his arms excitedly. He was near the pool Wen Zhuliu had built for Yu Ziyuan and was wearing a black swimming shorts with white little ghosts all over it with tattoo sleeves running down his arms. “Look at this!” He smiled and fear ran down Jiang Cheng’s spine as he realized that he was going to jump.

“Wei Wuxian, don’t you da-...” He said, getting up from the wood bench he was laying down on and going to the pool as his idiot brother did a black flip and almost hit his head on the pool edge. “Shit.” He took a deep breath, squeezing the tip of his nose.

“Did you see it, Cheng-ge?” He appeared near him, smiling widely and looking like a wet rat, a very cute one, but a wet rat nonetheless.

“You are looking like a wet rat and of course I saw it. It was rad.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and squatting near him. “Who taught you that though?”

“Lan Zhan!” He chirped, before disappearing under the water again and swimming again. Jiang Cheng looked over his shoulder to where Lan Wangji was helping his brother and Jin Zixuan on the grill with his ears reddening as Lan Xichen giggled beside him. Maybe another murder will make me finally die for real and the gods will be tired of me., he thought as he got up and started walking up to where the psychopath that Wei Wuxian called boyfriend was.

Fortunately for Wangji, his death was delayed as Nie Huaisang appeared from inside the house with a big and red thermal box in hands and screaming his name like he was being murdered. “Jiang-xiong! I’m so sorry I’m late, really, really sorry! But, look! I made moon cakes and baozi!”

“If you think you can make me forget and forgive your delay with food, you are…” He started before his sister interrupted him, coming from absolutely nowhere and taking the thermal box from Huaisang’s hands.

“Absolutely right! Thank you for them, A-Sang!” Jiang Yanli smiled, before elbowing him in the ribs and angrily muttering. “Shut up, don’t be rude. Or I’ll kill you if you make him go away with these buns.” He only scrunched his nose back at her, putting his tongue out as she walked to where her boyfriend was, with her face all scrunched up and tongue out too.

“Why are you late, anyways?” He said, rolling his eyes as Yanli’s giggles reached his ears and Huaisang smiled at him knowingly. The little bastard knew way too well that his twin would kill him if he was rude to him.

“I went to get my brother at the airport. Hope that you don’t mind that he came too. His apartment isn’t ready yet and I think it will be good for him to meet some new people.” He shrugged, pointing over his shoulder and completely ignorant to the way that Jiang Cheng’s heart missed a beat and hope threatened to grab his neck and suffocate him as he waited - No, prayed - for Mingjue to appear at the same at the same path his brother did with all his glory and hellish dimples that rendered him stupid whenever he smiled.

“You have a brother?” He whispered, hand fisting at his shorts as he tried to swallow down the knot on his throat.

“Yeah, his name is Nie Mingjue, he is my older brother. He was out to the United States these last years but he’s back now and doesn’t plan to leave any time soon again.” He said happily, lightening up at the thought of his brother staying and Jiang Cheng felt his head light as his vision went white.

When he could see again, the first thing he saw was Wei Wuxian's wet face staring down at him with wide and fearful eyes and dripping water on his face. If he was still able to, he would have scared himself, but instantly he just groaned and tried to move just to notice that he was leaning in the ground. He felt his face heat up as he noticed that everybody on the barbecue was around him and looking at him with worried eyes.

"What the hell, Jiang-xiong?" He heard Nie Huaisang say as he covered his face with a hand and got up. That's when he felt strong and oh, so familiar hands wrap up against waist.

"I don't remember you fading so easily, my heart." Nie Mingjue joked when he turned around quickly, both their eyes shiny with unshed tears and Jiang Cheng let out a laugh as he launched himself at him.

"You asshole! This is your fault!" His arms hugged his neck and he hid his face on his neck, taking deep breaths and relaxing against him. "Do you know how much I missed you? How much I waited for you?"

"I don't, but if it's half as I did, I can tell you that you didn't deserve to suffer all of this hurt alone." Nie Mingjue said against his hair, kissing his head. "But I think that first we have to explain to your family why you are crying and clinging to me."

"Oh! Right." Jiang Cheng sniffed, turning around to meet his sister's amused look, his brother's angry glare, his stepfather's inquisitive gaze and his mother's unimpressed face. "Well, shit."

"Well, shit, indeed, Jiang-xiong!" Nie Huaisang said, throwing his hands in the air before pointing at Mingjue's face. "Did you fuck my best friend, Da-ge? When did you fuck my best friend, Da-ge?!" Behind him, Wei Wuxian's glare turned downright murderous and Yanli's got a lot less amused and a lot more angry.

"What the hell, Nie-xiong? Shouldn't you be saying that to Jiang Cheng?" Mo Xuanyu said, looking over Jin Zixuan's shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

"No! Because I'm stuck with Da-ge, but I can still lose Jiang-xiong and I will not risk it because my brother fucked him." He waved his finger at him again. "Now, answer me, did you fuck my best friend?"

"Did you?" Wei Wuxian growled, making Jiang Cheng facepalm as Nie Mingjue leaned in his ear and whispered.

"I fear my life now."

"As you should." Jiang Yanli said and Jiang Cheng started to laugh loudly, hiding his face on his husband's neck.

♡

"So your mother is now married to Wen Zhuliu? The one that used to melt golden cores back in the day?" Nie Mingjue said, hugging his waist and leaning back on the headboard of his bed. After the barbecue, many explanations and threats to Nie Mingjue's life, they decided to go back to Nie Mingjue's apartment and just relax the rest of the day. And catch up with each other too. "And your father is still an asshole?"

"Yes, yes and yes. And I'm Yanli's twin brother. Fraternal. And Wei Wuxian's older cousin, though we were raised like siblings." Jiang Cheng said, putting his head back on his shoulder. "Meng Yao and Zixuan have only seven months of difference between them and Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji are identical twins, I think."

"And A-Sang is only three years younger than me. And my parents are alive, the three of them." He added, putting his own head on his. "How many lives have you lived, my heart?"

"Too many to count and too little to actually forget." He answered, closing his eyes and intertwining his fingers. "But I estimate something along twenty or twenty-two. What about you?"

"Same answer, but I could say that I had only fourteen or eighteen." He shrugged and Jiang Cheng squeezed his hands. "I guess that dying from qi deviation holds the reincarnation for some time."

"Oh, my soul." He turned around, sitting on Mingjue's thighs and holding his face. Slowly, he kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek, the tip of his nose, his eyes and finally his mouth. "We are together again. That's what matters." He whispered against his mouth, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs.

"Yes, we're going to be fine now." Nie Mingjue whispered back, hugging him tight and pulling him down to the bed. He was right, they were together now and they were going to be fine because even if he kept reincarnating and keeping all his memories, they would still have each other's memories to keep them going until they were together again. Because they would be together for as many lives as they could and, if possible, for all eternity.

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rainydaymiddleearthimagines · 3 years

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Destiny Calling: Chapter Eight

You sat on a rock, watching over the hobbits. You had been guiding them now, walking through what Gimli accurately described as "A labyrinth of stone.". There was one slight problem with your skills though. You were so unfocused it often led you to have to stop. The hobbits didn't mind it, they were just happy to have a guide leading them in the right direction. "Gandalf!" Frodo gasped, leaning up. You looked over, Sam also leaning up. "Frodo, are you alright?" You asked, your voice gentle as you did. "Yes... It was... It was just a dream." Frodo muttered. He laid back down, falling asleep soon after. You looked at Sam who was still sitting up.

"Sam? Can you not sleep?" You asked. He shook his head, getting up and sitting next to you. "What do the stones say?" He asked. "We're taking the right path... I'm only worried of the dangers ahead." You muttered. "Do you not know a safe way?" He asked. "There is no safe way to Mordor." you admitted. He gulped and you sighed. "I did not intend to add to your anxieties, I apologize Sam." you said. "Aragorn being so far away has affected you hasn't it?" Sam asked. You nodded sadly. "Is it foolish to say I miss him?" you asked, handing Sam Lambas bread. He took it. "I miss someone at home too." He said. "Who, pray tell, captures the mesmerizing gaze of Samwise Gamgee?" you asked with a smile. He chuckled.

"Her name is Rosie... Rosie Cotton." Sam admitted. "You seem fond of Rosie." you said. "I've not voiced my feelings... But when I get back, I will." He said. "The journey has changed you, hmm?" you asked. "Yes. Very much so." Sam admitted. "I wonder what it will be like when I return home." you pondered. "Aragorn will probably marry you." Sam said. You chuckled. "He's asked me before." you admitted. "You said no?" Sam asked. "I actually said yes, my father was the one who said no." you admitted. "Does Lord Elrond not like Aragorn?" Sam asked. "No, he does. But my father's relationship with him is very strained." you explained. Sam nodded, looking at the mountains around you. You looked at Frodo who was sound asleep. "Do you think Frodo will be alright after all of this?" Sam asked. You knew the truth was probably no. You didn't want to scare Sam so you simply replied with "I don't know Sam. I don't know."

Sam eventually went back to sleep, you waking them up as the sun rose. The walking annoyed you to no end, you internally questioning yourself of how much of this you could take. Sam tied a rope to a rock, all of you climbing down into the mist. "Can you see the bottom?" Sam asked you. "No! Don’t look down, Sam! Just keep going." You answered. A box fell from Sam's bag. "Catch it. Grab it Mister Frodo!" He said. Frodo grabbed it, just as your feet touched the ground, Frodo falling. He landed in your arms. "Careful!" you gasped. "Mister Frodo!?" Sam called. "Good news Sam, we found the bottom." you said making Frodo laugh. Sam climbed down to you and Frodo. "Bogs and rope and goodness knows what. It’s not natural. None of it." Sam muttered, looking at his surroundings. "What’s in this?" Frodo asked, holding up the box. "Nothing. Just a bit of seasoning. I thought maybe if we was having a roast chicken one night or something." Sam replied. "Roast chicken?!" You and Frodo asked in unison. "You never know." Sam shrugged making you chuckle. "Sam, my dear Sam." Frodo laughed. "It’s very special, that. It’s the best salt in all the Shire." Sam said in a "matter of fact" tone. "It is special. It’s a little bit of home." Frodo said with a smile.

You looked at Sam's rope. "We can’t leave this here for someone to follow us down." You said. "Who’s gonna follow us down here? It’s a shame really. Lady Galadriel gave me that. Real Elvish rope. Well there’s nothing for it. It’s one of my knots. Won’t come free in a hurry." Sam sighed. He yanked on the rope, it loosening and hitting the ground. "Real Elvish rope." Frodo snorted. You tried your best not to laugh but you couldn't resist. After all of you recovered from the rope incident you walked ahead, Frodo and Sam on each of your sides.

"So, what is the Shire like?" You asked. Sam perked up. "Oh it's much larger than most people think!" Sam said. "You've never been?" Frodo asked curiously. "No, me and Aragorn never saw reason to go." You admitted. "Well, Sam is not wrong, it is really big compared to what most people believe it to be." Frodo agreed. "But it's beautiful! Flowers everywhere!" Sam said. "You say that because you're the gardener." Frodo chuckled. "And a darn good one too!" Sam said proudly. "Is it true you live out of holes?" You asked. "More like we live in the sides of hills." Frodo corrected. "Can I ask you somethin' Miss Y/n?" Sam asked. "Of course Sam." You answered. "What is the other elven city like?" Sam asked. You sucked in a breath.

"Sorry-" "No Sam, it is quite alright." You assured. "it is quite large and the other elves are very pleasant... Unless you're not elven, in which case they tend to be quite hostile." You stated. "My uncle said it was beautiful..." Frodo said. "Oh it is. It is almost like it is autumn all year round though and unless you're gifted with the ability to speak with nature it is far to easy to get lost in the nearby woods." You explained. "Yes, Bilbo mentioned that." Sam nodded. "He's been?" you asked. "Oh yes. Though according to him, he was imprisoned there." Frodo said. "...And escaped? How pray, tell did he manage to do that?" you asked surprised. "Barrels." Sam and Frodo said in unison. "Barrels?" You asked. "He smuggled himself and the dwarves in barrels." Frodo said. "Dwarves- what in the world did your uncle do- Why was he out there to begin with?" You asked. "Uhhh... That's complicated." Frodo said. "eh?" You made a confused noise.

You all walked until nightfall, you looking at the stars. You wondered if Aragorn was safe, wherever he was. Your heart was practically aching, you missed him so much. You sighed, bringing your knees to your face as you sighed, poking the dirt with your fingers while the hobbits slept. The next morning finally came, you all walking through the sharp and dangerous rocks of Emyn Muil. You looked forward. "Mordor..." You muttered, seeing the dark lands. "The one place in Middle-Earth we don’t want to see any closer is the one place we’re trying to get to." Sam said with a sigh. "Do you think Gandalf meant for us to take this way?" Sam asked. "He didn’t mean for a lot of things to happen, Sam. But they did." Frodo muttered. "We cannot lose hope now you two. We must press on." You said to them. Frodo seemed to lock onto something in Mordor, collapsing to the ground. "Frodo?" You asked, kneeling to him. "Mister Frodo? It’s the ring, isn’t it?" Sam asked. "It’s getting heavier." He nodded. He clutched the ring, his breaths slowly relaxing. "What food have we got left?" Frodo asked. "Well, let me see." Sam said, going through his bag. "Oh, yes. Lovely. Lembas bread. And look! More lembas bread." He said, pulling out the bread wrapped in large leaves. He broke off a piece of it and threw it to him and threw another piece to you.

You bit into bread. "Say what you will about my grandmother but she has the best bread." you said, earning laughs from the two hobbits. "I don’t usually hold with foreign food, but this Elvish stuff, it’s not bad." Sam said. "Nothing ever dampens your spirits, does it, Sam?" Frodo asked, smiling. "Those rain clouds might." Sam said with a sigh.

You all walked, following a very odd, yet specific path before you stopped. "What in the world is that smell?" Sam asked. You felt like you were being watched and you remembered one other time you felt like this. "Let's... Keep walking." you muttered. It wasn't long that night came, Sam and Frodo both sleeping soundly. You sat on a rock, sharpening your blade.

Gollum.

You looked up, pretending to be oblivious to the creature climbing down the rocks as he spoke to himself. "They’re thieves. They’re thieves. The filthy little thieves. Where is it? Where is it? They stole it from us. My Precious. Curse them, we hates them! It’s ours it is, and we wants it." Gollum said, climbing down the rocks. Then he reached for Frodo and was met with a blade. "Lay a single finger on him and I will cut it off." you hissed. Frodo shot up, Sam and him scooching back.

As cruel as it may have seemed, you put the elven rope to use, tying it around the creature's neck due to Frodo's insistence that you leave Gollum alive. You walked, Gollum yelling and crying. "It burns! It burns us! It freezes!" You sighed at this yelling. "Oh by the Valor do you ever SHUT UP!?" You snapped. Gollum stopped walking, Sam yanking on the rope and making Gollum fall. "Nasty Elves twisted it!" Gollum spat, looking at you. He turned to Frodo and Sam. "Take it off us!" Gollum begged. "Quiet you!" Sam hushed. Gollum let out another yell. "It’s hopeless! Every orc in Mordor’s gonna hear this racket. Let’s just tie him up and leave him." Sam suggested. "I think Sam is correct, this is extremely annoying and my sanity is deteriorating very quickly." You said. "No! That would kill us! Kill us!" Gollum wailed. "It’s no more than you deserve!" Sam snapped.

Gollum rolled around, squirming to get the rope off. "Maybe he does deserve to die. But now that I see him, I do pity him." Frodo admitted. Gollum hushed at the sound of this, looking at Frodo on his knees. "We be nice to them, if they be nice to us. Take it off us! We swears to do what you wants. We swears!" Gollum pleaded. "There is no promise you can make that I can trust." Frodo said. "We swears to serve the master of the Precious. We will swear on…on the Precious!" Gollum said before hacking out a noise similar to his name. "The ring is treacherous. It will hold you to your word." Frodo said. "Yes on the Precious. On the Precious." Gollum said, inching closer to Frodo. "I don’t believe you!" Sam yelled, forcing Gollum back. Gollum attempted to run away, Sam yanking back on the rope and pulling Gollum back. "Get down! I said, down!" Sam shouted at Gollum. You sighed. "Sam!" Frodo yelled. "He’s trying to trick us! If we let him go, he’ll throttle us in our sleep!" Sam said. Gollum coughed, grabbing at his throat.

You stumbled, Sam looking over his shoulder as you dropped.

Visions bombarded you, war being the subject of the vision. It was Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn, fighting a battle. A banner soon filled your mind, one of a horse... Then you suddenly returned to your normal state, Frodo standing next to you. "War." you whispered. "What?" Frodo asked. "War is brewing in Rohan..." you muttered. Sam turned. "Do you wish to turn back-" "No... I-I promised you I'd help see this through." you muttered. Frodo looked over at Gollum. "Maybe he can lead us through the Marshes. You made a comment saying it was dangerous." Frodo recalled. "Frodo... I do not trust him." you admitted. Still, Frodo was right, even if you were being guided by nature itself you didn't have confidence in the marshes. "You know the way to Mordor?" Frodo asked. "Yes." Gollum responded. " You’ve been there before?" Frodo asked. "Yes." Gollum repeated, this time more anxious. Frodo removed the rope and you sighed, closing your eyes. Sam shook his head with a frown. "You will lead us through the Marshes, and anywhere else we may need guidance." Frodo said. Gollum nodded.

He was weirdly quick, rushing across the rocks as you all tried to keep up. He rushed off, taking a moment to talk to himself. "To the gate, to the gate! To the gate, the master says. Yes!" He muttered. Another version of himself seemed to take over. "No! We won’t go back Not there. Not to him. They can’t make us." He said, hacking out his name again. "But we swore to serve the master of the precious." He said, feeling guilty. "No! Ashes and dust and thirst there is and pits, pits, pits. And Orcses, thousands of Orcses. And always the Great Eye watching. Watching." He said. He turned to the group that was distant before screaming and running off. You all followed, running after him. "Hey! Come back now! Come back! There! What did I tell you? He’s run off, the old villain. So much for his promises." Sam sighed. Gollum popped up behind a stone making you gasp in surprise. "This way. Follow me!" Gollum said. You and Sam exchanged a look, sighing before following the creature.

You ended up taking a break. "Why we stop?" Gollum asked, looking at you who was sitting upright against a rock with your eyes closed. "Y/n watches over us at night, she needs rest." Sam sighed. Your face was so peaceful when you rested. If only Aragorn was here, you'd probably be sleeping better. Your heart missed him terribly, every time you closed your eyes you could see him. "I think she misses him." Sam muttered looking at your sitting figure. "Elfie misses someone?" Gollum asked. "A friend..." Sam sighed. "She misses friend?" Gollum asked. "Yes." Frodo muttered. Frodo too, thought of Aragorn. He always felt some sort of levity when looking at you and Aragorn together. You two were the sliver of light in a very dark time. Truth be told, you didn't need rest. You wanted to see if there was another vision. Another hopeful message or outcome. Instead you were met with darkness and silence.

It took about thirty minutes before you sat up. Sam looked over. "Let's go." you muttered, clearly deep in thought. You followed Gollum through the mountains before finally seeing the Marshlands. "See! See! We’ve led you out. Hurry, Hobbitses, hurry! Very lucky we find you." Gollum said. Sam passed him. "Nice hobbit." Gollum said to Sam. Sam walked alongside you, accidently slipping his foot into the water. "Ooh! It’s a bog. He’s led us into a swamp!" Sam gasped. "Swamp. Yes, yes. Come master, we will take you on safe paths through the mist. Come hobbits come. Real quickly. I found it, I did. The way through the marshes. Orcs don’t use it, orcs don’t know it. They go round for miles and miles, come quickly, swift and quick as shadows we must be." Gollum said.

You walked for a while in silence, trying to listen to nature to be met with silence. This unsettled you to no end. Nature was always talkative. Never this silent. "I hate this place, it’s too quiet. There‘s been no sight nor sound of a bird for two days." Sam muttered. "No, no birdses to eat, no crunchable birdses. We are famished, yes! Famished we are, precious!" Gollum said before picking a worm up out out of the ground. He ate it making you gag. "Here." Frodo said, tossing him a piece of Lambas bread. He took it confused. "What does it eats? Is it tasty?" He asked. He at it before choking and spitting it out, making you all jump. "It tries to chokes us! We can’t eats Hobbit food! We must starve!" Gollum wailed. "Well, starve, then. And good riddance!" Sam huffed. You had put it together earlier why Frodo was so lenient to Gollum. He was terrified the ring was going to turn him into Gollum.

"Oh, cruel hobbit! It does not care if we be hungry. Does not care if we should die!" He cried as you went through your bag. You pulled out a jerky like food. You knew Aragorn had a tendency of leaving somethings in your bag and this was definitely his. "Not like Master. Master cares. Master knows. Yes, precious. Once it takes hold of us, it never lets go." Gollum said. He reached for the ring but you stopped him, handing him the food. "It's meat. Not something any of us eat, maybe you'll like it." You said. He looked at it, taking a small piece and eating it. He seemed to actually like it and you handed him the rest. "Elfies gives us good food. We thinks the elfies is good." He said. You sighed and stood up, pulling your backpack back onto you.

You all made your way through the swamp, Sam looking into the waters around you. "There are dead things, dead faces in the water." Sam said. You looked in the waters too, seeing the armor. "Elves... There are... Elves out here." you breathed. "All dead. All rotten. Elves and men and orcses. A great battle long ago. The dead marshes. Yes, yes that is their name. This way. Don’t follow the lights." Gollum warned. Sam slipped, nearly falling into a hole before you gripped his cloak, pulling him up. "Thank you." He breathed. "Careful now, or hobbits go down to join the dead ones and light little candles of their own." Gollum said, unsettling you. Frodo wandered off, looking into the waters. He saw an elven corpse. He leaned forward, falling into the water. You gasped, sprinting over and yanking him out of the water. Gollum stood next to you. "Gollum?" Frodo asked. "Don’t follow the lights." Gollum repeated, this time more sternly. "Gollum." Frodo called. "Mister Frodo, are you all right?" Sam asked. He nodded slowly.

Night soon came, you sitting against a rock with your eyes closed. You didn't actually fall asleep, despite feeling strangely tired you were very alert with Gollum near. "So bright. So beautiful. Our Precious." Gollum said, making you open one eye. Frodo leaned up. "What did you say?" Frodo asked. "Master should be resting. Master needs to keep up his strength." Gollum muttered. "Who are you?" Frodo asked him. "Mustn’t ask us, not it’s business." Gollum said before hacking again. "Gandalf told me you were one of the river folk." Frodo said. "Cold be heart and hand and bone, cold be travelers far from home." Gollum sang in what you assumed to be an attempt to block Frodo out. "He said your life was a sad story." Frodo said. "They do not see what lies ahead, when sun has failed and moon is dead." Gollum sang. "You were not so very different from a hobbit once. Were you? Sméagol." Frodo asked, earning silence from Gollum. "What did you call me?" Gollum asked. "That was your name once, wasn’t it? A long time ago." Frodo asked. "My name? My name? Ss… Ss… Sméagol." He asked, genuinely not recalling his own name.

The smell of blood filled your nose and you felt the dread. You leaned up, opening your eyes. "What's wrong?" Sam asked, groggily before the loud scream from a Nazgûl. "Black Riders." You muttered. "Hide! Hide!" Gollum yelled. Frodo let out a yelp, grasping where he was struck with the Nazgûl blade.

You hid under a bush with Sam and Gollum. You motioned for Frodo to run. "Come on Frodo, come on!" Sam called. "Hurry, they will see us, they will see us." Gollum said panicked. "I thought they were dead." Sam said to you as Frodo laid next to you. "You cannot kill a ringwraith." You whispered. You watched the wraith fly overhead, your heart pounding. "Ah! Wraiths, wraiths on wings!" Gollum yelped. You noticed Frodo reach for the ring. "They are calling for it, they are calling for the Precious." Gollum said. You stopped Frodo from putting the ring on. "We're still here Frodo... it's alright." You whispered. the Nazgul flew away. "Hurry hobbits, the Black Gate is very close." Gollum said after you all climbed out from under the bush.

You all walked, following Gollum before you fell again, this time being sent into a shock. You were practically blinded, a white light filling your eyes. You heard a voice, barely audible at first. Distant. Very distant. "Y/n" It called. You knew the person's voice you just couldn't remember. "Y/n." The voice repeated. "Rohan is in danger. This is the start of many wars, people need you. Turn back now." it said. "I can't." You whispered. "You can. Reach the river on your own. A boat is waiting. If you run without stopping you can make it before the orcs do." The voice said. Then you realized who it was.

"Gandalf, how are you speaking to me?" you asked. "I am not yet dead my girl." He said, his face coming to light. You breathed. "You want me to go to Rohan, why?" You asked. "Because the further into Mordor you go, the more corruption kills." He said. "The corruption is killing you. Why do you think you feel exhaustion?" Gandalf asked. A good question. "Aragorn needs you. Rohan needs you. We need you." Gandalf said before your vision returned to normal, Sam hanging over you.

"Are you alright? You just fell back! I was worried." Sam said. "Gandalf is still alive." You said. Frodo turned around. "What!?" He asked. "He's alive... War is coming to Rohan and... Something bad is happening, I can feel it." You breathed. You wondered if you should turn back. "Go." Frodo said. You looked up. "What?" You asked. "If there is war in Rohan and Gandalf is alive, it's most likely that Aragorn will be in the center of all of this. You deserve to be with him through all of this. Go." Frodo said. "But-" "Y/n, he's right. You should go, you've looked more exhausted here than anywhere else... This is destroying you. You don't think we can tell but we can." Sam admitted. You sighed. "Any messages you want me to send to them?" You asked. "Yes. Good luck." Frodo said. You nodded. "Elfie remembers the way?" Gollum asked. "I do. Thank you." you nodded to Gollum before tossing him the rest of the meat. He took it before you hugged both Sam and Frodo. "If you two weren't so damn stubborn, I would've marched into Mordor with you." you said. "We know." Sam said before hugging you again. "Don't let us down Frodo. Fight strong. Keep your hope." you said softly. He nodded before you turned around, looking at the area you just came from.

"Alright." You told yourself. "Here we go again."

#aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn x reader

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alj4890 · 3 years

Note

I got an ask? What if we get Liams POV when Riley is with Olivia at the family vault? How did he even know the game doesn’t really tell us anything about how he found out.

A/N Hmmm. Interesting. You're right. How did he know where they went? Olivia took Riley through a secret passageway to avoid bumping into Mira and anyone else lurking in the hallways. Let's try and figure out how Liam did this without the use of x-ray vision or telepathy, LOL!

@krsnlove @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg

Masterlist

Down to the Wire

Lythikos...

Time rarely seemed to be on Liam's side. The more obstacles he encountered, the more he realized that everything he attempted only succeeded at the last possible second. His having to choose Madeleine at the final moment to protect Riley. Riley and their friends finding Tariq right at the moment before all hope to end his engagement was met. Drake diving in front of Riley to save her from being shot. His father pushing him out of the way from being crushed.

Everything in his life came down to a handful of finite seconds that held the very fabric of his fate.

He didn't particularly care that this was how his life would be. He wanted to be able to plan, have time to study every possible scenario and discover a way to combat the problems that could occur. Fate it seemed thought otherwise.

Olivia's festival was in full swing. As he walked around with Riley, it seemed that the horrors that had befallen Cordonia had yet to touch this wintery corner of the country. Madeleine's poisoning the night before wasn't spoken of. The few snatches of conversations he heard from nobles centered around the freezing temperatures and Lythikos ale.

Did no one care what was going on in the shadows?

When Riley left his side to try and draw the enemy out, he had to fight every single aspect of his personality to remain behind. He had come so close so many times in losing her, that the thought of placing her in this type of situation hurt horribly. If something happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

"I'll be fine." Riley had pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "I promise that nothing will keep me from marrying you."

He had hugged her close, almost wishing he could command her to remain in the safety of his embrace. Yet he knew that he never would demand such from her. His love was a brave, intelligent, and independent woman. He didn't want to destroy any part of her personality just to assuage his fears.

"Stay safe for my sake." He pleaded, kissing her once more. He raised a gloved hand to her cheek, eyes tracing the features he adored. "And knock Drake down with a snowball."

She laughed while hugging him tight. He watched her walk off toward the areas where snowy fields awaited those seeking a moment away from the crowd.

If that didn't draw their enemy out, he honestly didn't know what would.

Deciding to walk around alone and enjoy the merchant tents set up, he happened upon a heated conversation between Olivia and Lucretia.

"Humph. Your mother and father would have rather died than bow and simper before the king and court." Lucretia spat.

"They did die for not showing deference." Olivia snapped.

Lucretia glared at her for such a flippant response.

"To think that their only child would roll out the red carpet for our enemies is beyond disgraceful. Where is the Nevarkis blood? Why does it not boil with hatred toward Constantine and his progeny?"

"This Nevarkis blood does boil with hatred toward my enemies." Olivia responded. "Constantine might have been my enemy in the end but Liam never has. He's the best man I have ever known. He earned my respect and devotion years ago. I--"

"Spare me your lovesick musings." Lucretia waived off Olivia's compliments for the new king. "You've allowed this school girl crush to dilute what was once the pride of the Nevarkis name." Her lip curled in disgust. "To think our line depends solely on you."

Olivia's hands fisted over the insults. "Feel free to leave anytime you wish. That's all you've been good for."

Lucretia opened her mouth then paused at the set down she was about to give her niece. A slight smile formed on her thin lips.

"Still too scared to go to the family vault and see what your name, your very makeup, is, aren't you?"

Olivia's brow furrowed somewhat. "What does the vault have to do with--"

Lucretia held her hand up to silence her. She turned around and started to walk away. "The vault is no place for cowards. If I were you, I wouldn't dare step inside."

"I'm not a coward!" Olivia snapped at her aunt's back. Blinking back angry tears, she spun on her heel and disappeared in the opposite direction.

Liam stepped out from behind the tent he had been hidden. His eyebrows drew together as he thought over the unusual turn in their conversation.

What did the vault contain that Lucretia so desperately wanted Olivia to discover?

Wishing Bastien was here, Liam was forced to call Mira.

"Meet me over by the ice sculptures with schematics of Lythikos." He whispered.

***************

Olivia's home...

In an empty room, Liam studied the layout of the bottom level of Lythikos. His jaw clenched at what could be turned into a deadly trap.

"There appears to be only one way in and out of the vault, sir." Mira pointed out.

"Appearances can be deceiving." He told her, eyes narrowing at the lack of secret passageways marked on the blueprint. He knew from his visits here that it was similar to most of the castles in Cordonia. Each one had numerous hidden doors, hallways, and secret rooms.

There had to be at least one that the Nevarkis ruler would have used in the past to reach their treasured possessions.

"We'll watch from here." Liam tapped on an old storage room. "We will be well hidden and can easily see if anyone approaches the door." His eyes narrowed. "If Lucretia tries anything, we can stop her without anyone getting hurt."

"What about Lady Olivia?" Mira asked.

Liam didn't hesitate. "She is not the one attacking Cordonia."

"But, her parents--"

"She is innocent." He snapped. "Olivia has been my friend since she was five years old. She would never betray me."

Mira bowed her head. "Sorry sir."

He wished Bastien was here. He would have at least offered something more than accusations. "Once the court has retired for the night, we will take up our post."

****************

A little after 2 a.m.

It took all of Liam's willpower to not step out of his hiding place.

The sight of Olivia and Riley appearing out of the wall to calmly enter through the locked door leading down to the vault had made his muscles tense in anticipation.

Mira had silently questioned if she should save their future queen. He held his hand up to stop her. He could tell that Riley was not a prisoner. She had come willingly down here, most likely in support of Olivia.

It wasn't long though that he noticed Lucretia with a man that he knew too well.

"Is that--" Mira whispered.

Liam nodded.

He had finally found the link to every attack in the palace: Justin.

****************

"You should have stayed in New York, Riley." Justin said. "Why did you have to accept Liam’s proposal and come back?" His lips twisted in a bitter grimace as he leveled his pistol on her chest.

"Shoot her and get it over with." Lucretia snapped.

"No!" Olivia cried out trying to move in front of Riley.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Liam ordered as he and the King's Guards fanned out as much as possible in the narrow hallway.

Justin shook his head in frustration. "It is my time! I am the king Cordonia needs."

Lucretia maneuvered between Justin and Liam. Her evil smile formed as she pretended to stumble against the stone wall.

"If Olivia will not take her rightful place as queen, then she too must die with the rest of the filth."

Liam heard an ominous click as the entire bottom floor shook. His eyes widened at the charges exploding around the vault.

"Get out of there!" He screamed at Riley and Olivia.

He pushed his way through the guards rushing to stop Justin and Lucretia from escaping through yet another hidden door. His hands reached out towards them, praying he could reach them before they were trapped in the vault.

His mind refused to contemplate them being crushed to death by the heavy stones.

Riley grasped Olivia's hand and pulled her out. She went directly into Liam's arms, closing her eyes tightly as shouts filled the hallway and the floor finally stilled.

Olivia waved her hand through the dust in an attempt to see if they had caught the two who were behind this new wave of treachery.

Lucretia was handcuffed and held down on the floor by a guard while Mira cursed.

"Justin escaped." She told them bitterly.

Liam's arms tightened around Riley when he felt her tremble.

"At least now we know who our enemy is." She said, clutching him to her.

Liam placed a kiss on top of her head. "Yes, and he will never have another chance to harm you again."

Finally, he was given the precious time he needed to set into motion a plan to protect those he loved the most.

#choices the royal romance #king liam x riley #liam x riley #liam trr #choices trr #trr olivia #trr riley #the royal romance #trr #requests

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mystrangerfics · 3 years

Text

You Always Got Me

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Description: Anon: 3 , 100 , 57 , 77 crying bill??? Thank you angle 😘

Work Count: 1953

Complete Story Warnings: Language, Sexual Themes, Violence, Suicide

You were done. So done. You had been dating Billy for almost a full year and it had not been without hardships. His relationship between him and his father had always led to him acting out and being hard to understand but you had thought moving in together would help him. It was almost like things had only gotten worse. He drank constantly, he would randomly become angry and distant. You could have gotten past all of it but when you came home to find him with another girl in your bed, you were done.

"Baby, Baby, please?" Billy begged as you began packing a bag, his mystery woman quickly putting her clothes on behind you.

"Please, what?!" You hollered as you ripped your bag back from his grasp.

"I can fix this," he whimpered and shook his head. He stood before you in nothing but his jeans that he had quickly pulled on and hadn't bothered to button or zip.

"No, you actually can't this time," you argued as you continued to throw things in your bag.

"But," Billy whimpered and tried grabbing the bag back from you again. "We're meant for each other."

"Then who the fuck is that?!" You screamed, pointing at the woman who darted out of the bedroom.

"She's no one! You're the only one I want to wake up next to," he tried to pull the bag from your grasp again.

"You sure have a funny way of showing it!" You snapped and pulled the bag back again, getting the rest of your clothes in it that you would need for now. You headed across the hall to the bathroom and Billy quickly followed.

"You can't leave me," he brokenly whimpered, picking at your stoned heart. "You always got me."

"I'm not doing this, Billy," you said, holding onto your resolve. "I put up with your nightmares even when you hit me or try to choke me in my sleep. Your constant mood swings where you're happy one minute and mad at me the next. I put up with your being jealous and suspicious of everything I do and everywhere I go. And now to come home to this! Go fuck yourself!"

"I'll do better. I can do better," he pleaded as he followed you down the hall. He saw you going to the door and quickly got in front of you, holding your arms as he dropped to his knees. "Please, baby. I love you. I love you so much," he cried and buried his face against your stomach. "Please?!"

Your eyes watered and you clamped them shut, cursing yourself. "Billy get off me," you tried and pushed at his shoulder softly. "Let me go!"

"No! You'll leave me," he cried and looked up at you. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll fix us. Please just tell me what you want me to do?"

"I want you to let me go," you said quietly after a moment. Billy whimpered in a pained manner before he pulled his arms from around you. "I loved you, Billy. I loved you so damn much and you just let it all go," you told him, explaining how you were feeling. "I want you out by Monday. I'm going to stay with my parents," you said after a moment, no longer able to stand his sobbing that was tearing you apart.

"Where am I supposed to go?" He sniffled and looked up at you.

"Maybe you can ask the girl you were fucking if she needs a roommate," you countered before walking around him, doing your best to hold onto your anger so you wouldn't break and give in to him.

"Please don't walk out that door?" Billy begged as his heart shattered to pieces in his chest.

You stopped at the threshold, knowing this moment would determine how the rest of your life would go. You hung your head as your eyes watered up and your chest ached with Billy's pain and your own. "Goodbye, Billy," you muttered before closing the door in time to block his loud sob.

__ __

You returned to the house on Monday and debated going in upon seeing Billy's Camaro was still parked in the drive. You sighed before putting your car in park and getting out, you knew you were technically early. You hoped he was almost done packing and that you could avoid him until he left. You walked up to the door and walked in, glancing around a bit. Boxes were half packed around the living room, Billy's items appeared tossed in without much care or thought.

You quietly walked down the hall to the bedroom to find a box on the bed. Your eyes flared and you sniffled a little as one of Billy's denim jackets sat on top of the box. You reached out and gently ran your fingers over the material, having touched the jacket many times but you realized this could very well be the last. You looked away from it before you turned, seeing the light on in the bathroom and hearing the shower running. You slowly walked up to the door and rested your hand against it, trying to hear Billy in the room.

There was silence for a bit and you scrunched up your eyes. "Billy? Are you okay in there?" You asked, clearing your throat a little. "Billy? Can you hear me?" You asked when he didn't respond. "Bil-?" You were interrupted as you looked down, seeing water running out from under the door. "Billy?!" You hollered and violently shook the handle on the door, banging your shoulder against it. "Billy!" You screamed again before you backed up and kicked the door. You were glad it was cheap and gave on the third kick.

Your eyes landed on the tub and Billy laid in it, seeming to float in the water. A bottle of pills spilled over the floor and the water running over the sides. "Billy!" You tried as you quickly came over to the tub, stepping into it and hoisting his face out of the water. "Why are you doing this?" You whimpered to him as you held him against your chest and leaned back to unplug the tub, trying to drain it. You managed to fit your fingers into his mouth and pushed them to the back of his throat, wiggling them there. "Please, baby? Please?" You whimpered and when your fingers didn't work you felt for his pulse, finding a weak one. You jumped out of the tub and ran drenched through the house before getting the phone and calling for help.

You returned to the bathroom and knocked almost everything out of the medicine cupboard that was over the sink before finding the bottle you were looking for, Ipecac.

You crawled back into the tub with Billy, barely noticing the water still showering down on you both as you forced his mouth open and tipped the bottle into his mouth once you got off the cap. You held him to you while you waited and sobbed. You prayed he would wake up and you begged him to, hoping that in some way he would hear you.

When you had given up and rested your head down against his drenched hair you felt him tense before hearing a loud gag. A warm, thick substance covered your chest and you looked down to see Billy was throwing up the pills.

"That's it, baby. That's it," you quietly cooed and brushed back his hair, smiling in maddened relief. He groaned in a miserable tone before he weakly sat up and fell back on the tub. His eyes looked dazed as he stared at you, the water running over you both.

"Did I die?" He asked, seeming confused. "Is this my heaven?"

You sadly smiled at him and shook your head. "Billy you're going to be okay. The ambulance is coming," you explained.

He seemed stressed at this news and looked over, eyeing the pills that were scattered across the floor, wet from where the tub had run over. "You weren't supposed to be here til later."

"Well, it's a good thing I got here when I did. Billy, you could have died," you tried to explain, stressing the last word.

"What do you think i was trying to do?!" He asked, making you frown. "I can't move back in with my dad. I won't," he whimpered and you frowned.

"Billy, you could have told me. I can find somewhere else to stay," you offered.

"I don't fucking want that either. I just want-," he said before looking down, his eyes watering. "I just want you back." You looked down when his eyes came up, searching for yours. "I know I'm an asshole and complete shit to put up with but I love you," he tried. "I haven't loved anyone like I love you since my mom and it-," he cut off and shook his head.

You glanced back up to Billy now, he had never mentioned his mother or anything overly detailed about his childhood. He had always told you it wasn't your business and you had left it alone.

"It scares me. But the last thing I want is for you to leave me like she did," he whimpered and looked down, closing his eyes as they burned with tears. "I just need one more chance."

You frowned a little at him before you slowly crawled forward and rested your head on his chest, laying against his side. "You never told me about your mom," you said quietly and felt his arm wrap around your waist weakly. "What was she like?"

Billy was quiet for a few moments before a small smile came to his face. "She was a lot like you. She believed in me when no one did. She always loved me. She was really pretty," he said, his voice breaking down to a whisper on the last word.

"Well, wherever she is. I'm sure she misses you and she raised an amazing son," you told him, making him close his eyes and cry harder. He pulled you close to him and placed a kiss in your hair as you heard the sound of distant sirens.

__ __

Billy was allowed to come home after being under observation all night. You had stayed with him and watched him sleep, not leaving his side. When he was discharged, you were waiting outside in your car. You gave him a smile as he got in and you pulled away from the hospital.

"So I was thinking," you told him as you kept your eyes on the road. "About everything you said and everything that has happened." You saw Billy look at you out of the corner of your eye. You stopped at an intersection and let the other cars go. "Billy Hargrove you get one more chance to turn things around and if-," you couldn't even finish your sentence before his arms were around you, hugging you tight.

"Yes. Whatever it is, yes. I'll do anything," he told you as he kept his hold on you. "Thank you, baby."

You looked at him when he finally pulled back a little before pressing a small kiss to his lips, making him smile. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby. So damn much," Billy whispered, making you smile. He leaned in to kiss you again before the car behind you honked since you'd been sitting at the intersection for too long. "Fuck 'em," Billy said with a smile before his hand slipped onto the back of your neck and he pulled you into another kiss, bringing a smile to your lips.

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x reader #Billy Hargrove #stranger things #mystrangerfics #writing prompt #fic prompt #prompt request

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bodyswapmischief · 3 years

Text

The Crossroad Contract

Are you okay?

Yeah? What do you mean?

I don't know ... you have been distracted all night. Like you have been thinking about something. You been constantly looking at your watch. And, you keep looking around like you expecting some one to show up.

Okay, I get it, I get. I don't know ... I guess I just been stressed lately. But, it's nothing you need to worry about.

Are you sure? Because if I didn't know better it kinda feels like your trying to hide from someone. We been dating for a year now, so I know when something is wrong. Did you get into trouble?

No, it's nothing I promise. It just a lot is happening at the ... at the gym. In fact we are planning on creating some branches. I've been waiting to hear from Mark because we are expecting to meet up with some sponsors to help us expand. That's why I've been anxious. We should be having an online meeting, tonight.

What!? That's great! I know once they see how fit and hot you are, you'll have them eating out of your hand. You don't got anything to worry about.

Jason and Eric continued the rest of their date. Jason tried his best to act normal in front of his boyfriend, but inside the fear of what was coming ate at his mind.

Do you want to come inside?

No. I actually got the text from Marc. I need to rush home and get my presentation ready for the zoom meeting we are having.

Jason gave Eric a tight squeeze, as they hugged. Even though Jason was taller, bigger, and stronger than his boyfriend, he felt safe in Eric's arms. He loved this feeling. He loved everything about this past year. And, he wanted to stay in this moment for ever.

But, he knew he couldn't. It wasn't safe to be near Eric, as the night grew later. He gave Eric a kiss a turned back to get into his car. As he drove home, his strong musclar arms shook with the the growing intensity of fear.

Reaching his apartment he prepared himself for what was to come. As the time past, Jason did all he could think to do, pray.

Dear God forgive me for what I did. For give me for my sins. I need you now. I need your strength.

His isn't listening.

The room filled with an echoed laughter. Jason opened his eyes and noticed the room was even darker than before. Sitting on the couch across from him was a what looked like a man. He stretched out comfortably. He was extremely attractive, dressed in an all black suit. His eyes matched, as their were no whites. His eyes were pools of pure black. The expression on his face was one of twisted joy.

It always amuses me that people like you feel worthy of forgiveness.

The figure laughs. And Jason instantly started shaking with fear. He was sure that he head more time. Looking at the clock, 11:00 pm, he should have had an hour left

Do you need to be reminded of the 5 soul you destroyed to summon me? The poor souls you used to selfishly stir up this deal. The things you did to have the body of your dreams.

The man continued his laughing. Jason tried to speak up, but fear gagged any attempt at sound.

What cat got your tongue? Don't you remember how you stabbed your father in his heart, as he slept. What about your mother? She woke up to the bloody sight. Your father bleeding out. She started screaming. How many times did you stabbed her in the neck? And your poor sister, at first she thought you enter her room to protect her, but once she saw the blood she knew the truth...

Stop!! Shut the fuck up!!! I don't want to hear it!!!

Tears started streaming down Jason's face.

Wow, someone has major balls yelling at a demon. But, your right ... what you did to your two friends was way worst...

Please shut up! If I could go back, I would have never done it. I'm sorry... Take this back ... I don't want this ...

Jason collapsed on the floor begging to the demon he summoned a year ago. His heart screamed with the pain of what he had done.

It's a little late for that, now isn't it. We made a deal. Those 5 souls for your "perfect body." It's not like I can just recreate those 5 souls for you. That body is now permanently yours for as long as you live. Live... now that's a funny word. Because it brings me to my real reason for coming here tonight. You know what I'm talking about. It's been a year buddy ... and you haven't delivered a new souls to hell. Do I need to remind you about the second clause of our agreement.

No... I know.. In order to stay alive in my new body. I must continue to kill a minimum of 1 person every year, otherwise I'll be dragged to hell.

Jason wiped away his tears feeling of defeated. In a strange way he wanted this. He felt like he deserved it. The guilt of killing his family and friends weighed on him for the entire year.

Well then do it! Take me to hell.

The demon smiled as chains emerged from him. They snaked around the room and wrapped around Jason. The strung around him and stabbed into his skin. He screamed out in pain. And, painfully his body started moving on its own.

Tears started forming in his eyes, as he feared his fate. In the corner of his room, a figure started to take shape. The closer he got the clear the figure became and the more he tried to scream. But, all that came out of his mouth were moans of panic.

Standing in front of him was a monster. The creatures body was tall with stretched limbs. It's skin was pale and was patterned with sores and cuts. It stood on bended knees. It fingers were long and curled, in disfigurement. It's nails black and sharp, resembling claws. The face was long and sunken in at the empty eye sockets. The skin hung loose on the bone. Holes done by picking reveled deep layers underneath the skin. It lips were cracked and torn.

The demon laughed.

Do you still wish to go to hell?

Jason was able to regain his movement and feel to the floor. From the corner of his eyes Jason could see the creature lung down towards him. Expecting to be ripped apart by the creature he closed his eyes. But, seconds past and nothing happened. Slowly he open his eyes and looked up. The creature was also looking up. The Demon started to do a soft chuckle.

Jason slowly picked himself up, not sure what was going on. The creature did the same. The Demon's chuckles got louder. Jason started slowly walking backwards away from the creature. The creature did the same creating more space between then. The demon was laughing hysterically now.

How do you not see it it? Are you really that blind to the situation?

The words rang through Jason's mind. His faced turned to shock. And in a twisted way the creature face also turned to one of shock. As Jason looked at the empty sockets of the creature, his brain works 1 billion times per second. He was looking at himself. He looked down at his body and still saw the ripped muscular body of his dreams. But, looking back at the creature he could see it was also him twisted, stretch, tortured, and mutilated.

What the hell is going on? What did you do to me?

I didn't do anything. I'm just merely showing you your true reflection. Yes on the outside and to the world, you look like a beefcake. But, once you leave that vessel. Once you die, this is your truth. Your true form, this is how you really look.

Jason stood in shock. He lifted his hands to his face. Touching his features and the creature did the same.

This can't be.

What!? You sold your soul Jason. You couldn't think your soul would still look pure and beautiful. God has disowned you and cursed your appearance to match. You are scared of becoming a monster. But, you already are one. Let yourself be one.

Jason fell to the floor, sobbing, The adrenaline from the fear starting to wear off. He was tired and defeated.

So what now!? Your going take away my body and torture me for all eternity, while looking like some type of monster!

Well that's up to you, Jason. You signed the contract. You know the consequences. Either take a life and live in this extremely attractive vessel for another year, or lose everything and be tortured until that mind of yours becomes just as twisted as your soul. Either way you become one of Lucifier's pets. But, doing it the easy way, at least you continue to look hot and have some sense of yourself still intact.

But, this body won't last for ever. Eventually it's going to die... so. I'd have nothing eventually.

Jason!! What don't you understand! Your a demon now. You are basically employed by the devil. Once that body becomes obsolete, and you are in good graces with Lucifer, you will receive a new body, in order to complete the work Lucifer ask of you.

So if I make the devil happy ... I can live the life I always wanted... and more.

Now, someone's getting it. Let the monster within, be unleashed. Let your dark desires free. You've killed once and you can do it again. Deep down you know you crave it. But you better work fast. By the looks of the clock ... you only have 30 minutes left.

Why are you telling me all this.

Your my recruit... if you do a good job... it also make me look good. And, I'm looking for a promotion.

The demon winks and with a flash he vanished. Jason looked around the room and catches a glimpse of his reflection. For a split second, he saw the demonic reflection of his soul. And, in that moment everything clicked. He had to stop pretending. He had to let loose and be himself. Be the monster. He knew what he had to do. He couldn't let everything he worked for slip away from his grasp. The souls of his family and friends would just be wasted. He might be a monster but he didn't have to look like one. He still deserved happiness, right? He deserved power. He wanted more power.

Now, that he knew what was at stake he started to really think to himself.. if this body was just given to him for signing a contract, then what else would he be able to achieve if he continued to make Lucifer happy.

He went to his kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife he had and slid it inside the back of his pants.

He pulled out his phone and started texting.

Hey babe, the meeting ended and it went really well. There was no reason to be anxious, in the first place. You were right. I thought I'd come back to your place. So, we could celebrate and I can release this tension I been holding in all day. I'll be there in 5 minutes. I'm dying to stick it in you 😉

Wow, the meeting must have gone great! You're not usually this flirty and direct. But, I like it. It's turning me on. Hurry, I'll be here waiting.

Jason looked up from his phone and smiled as he walked to his boyfriends apartment, a few minutes down the street. The thoughts of ramming his knife, into his lover, turned him on.

#body #swap #mischief #transformation #tf #story #stories

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lebguardians · 3 years

Text

This will be the first “story” I’ve ever written. Woke up today kinda of wanting to write but definitely scared 😂. Don’t know if this would even go anywhere. I love Charles Brandon’s character development in the Tudors and there isn’t many fanfics on his character so I figured I’d give it a go? Maybe?

Warnings: angst, fluff, eventual smut, feel free to message me if you feel I should add some.

I don’t have a title idea, so if someone does after reading it let me know and I’ll definitely give you credit.

The Lady Y/N Windhelm was sent to court after the rebellion in the north to make sure her father, the Duke of Windhelm, stayed loyal. Y/N never agreed with the rebellion against His Majesty, she begged and pleaded with her father to stop his part in the rebellion. When the fighting was done and over, the only reason he wasn’t hanged as a traitor was because her father was good friend’s with King Henry’s father.

Forever branded as the traitors daughter, Y/N did everything she could to blend in with the crowd towards the back at some feast she was forced to attend. She was a shy girl, not that she had anyone to talk to if she could. No one wanted to be associated with her. It was no surprise she was unwed either. Standing at 5’1, she was a slim woman, dark brown hair that reached her bottom, fair skin, blue eyes. Currently she was pressed against a wall, almost trying to blend it with it as to not be seen, her long hair thrown up into a simple hairstyle, and wearing the plainest dress she owned. She prayed no one recognized her.

She looks around the crowd with a sigh. The king with his wife were at the high table laughing and eating, both of whom were surrounded by His Majesty’s counsel. All seemed to be having a good time besides the King’s best friend, the Duke of Suffolk, Charles Brandon. He seemed to be in the middle of another argument with his wife.

Feeling the air getting too hot, Y/N decided to take a step outside to get some fresh air and maybe sneak away back to her room. If she had it her way. She would stay there with her books and needlework. Y/N stepped toward the edge of a balcony and leaned over, enjoying the feeling of the cool spring breeze on her flushed face. She hated wearing these cursed dresses. They are so hot and uncomfortable. She lost herself in though looking out to the trees. She longed to return to the north. The rolling green hills, the sea, riding on her horse for hours, mostly until the moon was high in the sky. She smilied faintly at the memory of her father being so enraged when she came back way too late for his liking. His face beat red with anger and worry. Then the horror passing through his face when he noticed she was wearing trousers before shaking his head and letting out a deep laugh at his only daughter’s shananigans. Y/N missed him deeply.

Y/N was lost to her thoughts and lost track of time. She startled suddenly when a door slammed behind her. She quickly turned and saw the Duke of Suffolk. He looked very angry, his jaw clinched, fists balled up. He looks up and noticed that he startled Y/N. The Duke had brought her back to court on His majesty’s orders. Quite literally kicking and screaming for her father. The sound of her screams stayed with the Duke. The Duke sighed deeply and said,

“Forgive me, my lady. I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

Y/N curtsied, her body beginning to fill with rage at the sight of the Duke. She swore to herself that she would never forgive him for ripping her away from her home and family. “Your Grace.” She replied stiffly. “I was just leaving” she quickly walked past him, wanting nothing more than to run to her room and shake the memories away. The Duke stepped to the side letting her pass, a guilty look passing through his handsome face. The Duke let out a sigh, wiping a hand over his beard. The Dutchess informing him eariler that she was returning to Suffolk with their son and not returning. Rolling his eyes at their argument. He didn’t blame her. Not really. He loved her deeply but he know she would never love him again.

He walked to the edge of the balcony where Lady Y/N stood earlier. He know she was miserable. Who could blame her. He begged for his friend to reconsider bringing her here. He know court would not be kind to the girl. Charles heard the gossip about her around court. The horrids things said to her and behind her back. He heard her soft cries when he passed her room. Taking a deep drink of his wine, he stood straight and headed back into the hall.

Lady Y/N was making her way back to her room, praying no one would see her tears. She heard a group of the Queen’s maidens, laughing about her. Saying thing like she would never find a husband and eventually the King would be bored with her embarrassment and send her to a convent. She finally reached her room and quickly started shedding the layers of her dress, before dressing into something comfortable for the night. She fell asleep crying.

6 months later.

Charles Brandon grew increasingly worried about Y/N. It was noticeable that she has lost quite a bit of weight and that she barley eats a thing, only leaving her room when commanded. Her face has lost all its color and then circles under her eyes quite noticeable. The Queen, Jane Seymour, taking notice as well.

The Queen was kind to Y/N. Most mornings breaking fast with her in private as to not spark more rumors. She worried about her greatly and has tried to persuade the king to send her home with no luck. When she was finally able to get Y/N to open up and talk, y/n spoke often for her love of the north and how much she missed it and her father.

After eating his food, Charles decided to talk to the king about sending y/n back. He worried she would get sickly and die and didn’t want another death on his already heavy conscience. He walked to the king’s quarters.

“His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk”, he heard the groomsmen announce.

“Ah Charles, I was just going to send for you, come sit” the king stated joyfully.

Charles raised an eyebrow at the king’s joyful mood. “His majesty seems to be in a good mood today.” He noted. The king smirked before handing him a letter. Charles furrowed his eyebrows, opened the letter, quickly reading it. His head snapped up to the king, he ran a hand through his grown out curls, and then ran a hand down his face.

“Forgive me, your majesty, but I’m confused” his mind was racing. A million different thoughts running through it. The king finding a loophole, allowing Charles to divorce his wife and marry again if he so chooses. Catherine made it quite clear she wouldn’t love him again nor would allow him to bed her. The King was able to use this and allow for a divorce on the grounds that Her Grace wouldn’t fullfill her duties.

“What’s there to be confused about Charles, it’s clear your miserable. You don’t smile nor joke as you used to my friend. I worry for you” the King replied, taking a bite of some foreign fruit Charles hasn’t seen before. “In any case it’s done and now settled. You are no longer married to Catherine. Don’t think I haven’t already noticed you eyeing another. A certain lady of Windhelm” the king said with a smirk on his face.

A shocked look passed over the Duke of Suffolk’s face. “Your majesty, it’s not like that at all. I’m concerned for the girl. She’s gotten quite sickly and depressed. I came here today to beg of your mercy and allow her to return home.”

A very angry look passed over the king’s face as he stood up. “I’ve already made it quite clear to my wife that I won’t tolerate in meddling and that includes the you as well Charles. The girl is staying here as assurance her father won’t rebel again. They are both lucky I didn’t take their heads. The only mercy she’s getting is me allowing her to marry and not be sent off to some convent.”

Charles was getting very irritated and seeing where the king was going with this. “So what, you’ll force the poor girl to marry me, making her even more miserable? She won’t marry me. I’m the one who ripped her from her home and family and everything she’s ever known. She can’t even look at me without running scared. Forcing me to marry into yet another unhappy marriage? What game are you playing at?”

The king was enraged and slammed his fist down and began yelling. “You’ll marry the girl and that’s the end of it. You remember, you owe me after what you pulled with my sister, Charles. I may have forgiven you but I haven’t forgotten. You will marry her and ensure her loyalty to me and secure that her family remains loyal. The north looks to her family for whatever reason. If they stay loyal the rest will fall in line.” The king stood and stormed out the room. Neither of them realizing some of the Queen’s maidens overheard them arguing about this and decide to make their way to y/n.

Charles stormed out. Everyone moving out of his way seeing just how angry he is. He paced his quarters, his curls a mess from him running his hands through them so often out of frustration. How would he be able to break the news gently to y/n? What he didn’t realize was the women that overheard already telling y/n for no reason other than to be jealous over the fact they werent able to marry the handsome Duke.

Y/n was sitting under a tree working on a needlework, enjoying the sunny spring day for once. She decided to take the Queen’s advice and get out of her room. She was depressed and very home sick. She knew her dresses didn’t fit as they did before and she didn’t have much of an appetite. The Queen was very kind to her. She thought it was apart of a game when the Queen approached her. She quickly realized how kind of a woman the Queen is and began so slowly open up to her. She enjoyed the morning that they ate together.

Y/n heard footsteps approach her. She looked up and saw it was the Queen’s maidens and quickly looked down and picked up her work and stood up to walk away in hopes they would leave her be. She quickly remembered why she didn’t leave her room unless forced to. They called her name and giggled.

“Can I help you with something” y/n said politely. They giggled again.

“Have you heard?” The one on the right asked while the one of the left kept giggling.

“Heard what exactly?” Y/n asked cautiously.

“The king in mercy is allowing you to marry” the left one stated with clear amusement. Y/n grew pale and her hands began to shake.

The one on the right noticed her state. “Yes we heard the king arguing with the Duke of Suffolk not long ago. It seems the king has found a way for the Duke to divorce his wife and has arranged your marriage to him”

A cold sweat breaks out across y/n. She turns and quickly walks off all but running back to her room. Her mind is racing. How is this mercy? Being forced to marry the man that ripped her from her family? A part of her knew that it was on the kings orders and that he was the unfortunate one to have to follow. But she still blamed him.

She barley noticed the people she was passing, not even realizing she rushed past Charles so quickly he almost didn’t notice. She was beginning to hyperventilate, her breath coming in and out quietly, tears streaming down her pale face. Cursing the tight dress she was forced to wear she heard her name being called and a hand on her arm. She looked up to see none other than Charles Brandon himself.

“Let me go” she spit out. All she wanted to do was hide in her room.

“Lady y/n, wait, what’s wrong?” Charles asked very concerned at her current state. Anger flashed through her eyes.

“As if you don’t know what’s already wrong Your Grace.” Y/n breathing quickened. Guilt passed through the Duke’s eyes before confusion.

“My Lady, please I only just found out myself. How could you have found out so quickly. I was just coming to tell you myself”. Charles tried to reason. Y/n snorted

“You know as well as I that secrets don’t stay secrets for long in this hell.” She was beginning to see black edges in her vision. She was scared and panicking.

“My lady, you need to breathe” Charles told her as she began to wobble on her feet.

“No, I won’t do it, I won’t marry you” she gasped out, shaking like a leaf “I want to go home. I want my father” she cried before her eyes rolled back into her head and she passed out.

“Fuck!” Charles exclaimed, catching her before she hit the ground. “Go get a damned doctor and send them to my quarters” he cursed at a nearby guards. Charles picked her up and walked quickly back to his quarters, laying her down on his bed. He stepped out the room and allowed the doctor to look over her. He sat in his chair in front of the massive fireplace and stared into the fire. Not looking up as the doctor came out.

“Lady y/n will be alright and needs rest and nourishment. She is very thin and has been through. Shock”

Charles said nothing and nodded his head not moving from his spot. He let out a big sigh, running a hand through his hair. He hopes he can one day earn her forgiveness or they will both remain miserable.

Let me know what you think!

#henry cavill x reader #charles brandon #henry cavill #the tudors #fanfic

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