#when I read bread loaf my mind immediately jumped to a large loaf and a moogster that ate so much sand it became massive

[tailoringtay]

@xkuja and the mysterious lifeform

#xkuja #~ design ~ (art) #when I read bread loaf my mind immediately jumped to a large loaf and a moogster that ate so much sand it became massive #I loved the mental image so here it is xD #do you think the name should be Sandy or Stupid #Update: it is now named Sandwich

[boushh2187]

The Festival - Rumbelle Secret Santa Gift

Title: The Festival

By: boushh2187

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Rumbelle :)

Rumbelle Secret Santa 2020 Gift for @peacehopeandrats​

Prompt: winter, fire, stroll in the snow

Word Count: 2220

Rated: PG

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Indeed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We need to get you some new books!”

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

“Perhaps you can do so tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kohanayaki]

Jaime Lannister x Reader .:Fighting Chance:. Part 3

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3

You stood there as if glued to the floor, staring at the empty doorway long after Cersei had gone. You didn't even know what to feel. Fear was fairly dominant in your system, but the rage that bubbled in your stomach was unmistakable. The way she talked to you infuriated you. She belittled you with such enjoyment in her eyes, slandering you, your home country. How dare she? Just because she was born luckier than you, just because she happened to be a child to a good family in the right place at the right time. But then again, she was the Queen. Her word was law, or so it was for the moment. She could have you killed with a flick of her wrist, and after tonight you had no doubt she would do so if she found you here in the morning.

On top of all that, one thing was confirmed- the rumors about her and Jaime were true. 

There was nothing else that could have been about. You felt a twist in your chest as you thought about it and you cursed yourself for it. You had no business with these people. Jaime wasn't supposed to mean anything to you; you hated that he did. 

You glanced around the room and grimaced. You knew you Cersei meant what she said, you had to leave, and the sooner you did the better.

You started to slip on the various layers of your clothes, folding your cloak over the top to create a makeshift hood. You strapped your sword to your hip and grabbed your things, prepared to head home and then to the docks.

Knowing you wouldn't be able to force yourself to leave if you stayed a moment longer, you stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind you. You traveled down the stone steps to the first floor, about to make your way to the front door when you passed the dining room. A bowl of fresh fruit sat on the table, a half loaf of bread next to it along with a block of cheese, abandoned. A silver pitcher completed the array, no doubt filled with wine. 

You chuckled humorlessly to yourself. If you were being forced to leave, then. . .

You walked over to the table, grabbing one of the gauntlets from the place settings and filling it nearly to the brim with wine. You drank it like it was water, pausing only for a second before finishing it, slamming the cup down on the table, and swiping the food into your bag. You moved to refill your cup again when a voice spoke in the darkness. 

“Didn't take you for the type.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, drawing your weapon on instinct and whipping around to raise it to the voice's source, only to be met with the sight of Tyrion Lannister, drunk off his ass and lounging on one of the large chairs with his feet up. 

“How long have you been there?” you asked in a hushed tone. 

“Oh, only the entire time,” he replied nonchalantly.

He swirled the wine in his glass as he spoke, nearly spilling it every time the cup rotated in his hand, “Did you think a ghost was dining on cheese and bread at this hour?” 

“So are you going to rat me out for stealing from your family or what?” you glared, not lowering your sword an inch.

“You're our guest,” Tyrion said, “Which gives you the right to our food and drink. There was no crime that I could see. Besides, by the looks of the way you downed that wine it appears you needed it.”

“Your guest?” you nearly laughed, “Well, you have a funny way of showing your hospitality.”

“I assume you've met my sister, then,” Tyrion sighed, taking another healthy swig from his goblet.

“She's charming,” you remarked dryly, “and basically told me to get the fuck out of here by morning or she'll have me killed.”

Tyrion seemed surprised at that, sobering up at your words. 

“Did she now. . .” he trailed off. He knew exactly why she didn't like you, but he didn't think she'd go this far. Well, in hindsight perhaps he should have seen it coming. It was Cersei, after all.

“I should go,” you said, “I'll be able to sleep at home and pack my things, but according to our great queen I have to leave King's Landing by tomorrow night.”

“How are you going to manage that?” Tyrion asked, genuinely curious.

“I saw a trade ship docked at the bay with a Braavosi flag,” you said, your expression hardening, “I'll have no trouble sneaking on. My family still has a few allies there. I could teach sword fighting if it comes down to it.”

You grimaced slightly despite yourself. It's true you knew people who would let you stay with them in Braavos, but there was a reason you haven't returned to your homeland since you left. . .

“You could just go somewhere else in Westeros,” Tyrion said, reading your anxious expression.

“No,” you said firmly, “If I didn't leave here she'd know. She'd put a price on my head and knight whoever gives it to her in a sack.”

“She said that?” Tyrion quirked a brow.

“Actually she wanted my head on a pike above the Keep, if I remember correctly,” you said, “I was just passing through here anyways. I hadn't meant to stay as long as I already have. . .”

You trailed off as the realization that you had to leave everything behind once again hit you hard. You were always running, always moving. Why should this time feel any different? 

You felt a pang in your chest as Jaime's face flashed through your mind. This is why you promised to not make any connections on your travels. You always have to end up leaving them anyways. You'd never had a home, not a permanent one anyways. You knew you shouldn't have gotten comfortable. 

Tyrion seemed to read your thoughts, but to him they were written all over your face. He saw the way Jaime looked at you when Cersei wasn't around, when he thought you weren't looking. There was something beginning to be restored in his brother that hadn't been there since he returned. He was so much more. . . human- Humble, alive, and happy to be so.

“I should go,” you said, breaking the silence. You took your bag off the table and slung it over your shoulder. As you turned to leave you stopped in front of the door, looking back at the Lannister.

“Farewell, Tyrion,” you said with sincerity, “Thank you for giving me an opportunity and for treating me kindly.”

He smiled at that.

“You have a good head on your shoulders, (Y/n). Try not to get it cut off.”

_____________________________________________________________

Jaime listened to the waves crashing beneath the plateau as he sat in the clearing. He tried to relax but he couldn't shake the bad feeling nagging at the back of his mind. You had never been late, not once. Every time he'd been even close to late to one of your sessions you never let him hear the end of it. 

“If you're right on time, you're late,” you had told him, not giving him any time to react before lunging at him with a surprise attack, your sword already drawn. He smiled despite himself at the memory but it did nothing to quell his concern. 

His head snapped up at the sound of footsteps, hoping to see you, your sword at your hip, apologizing for being late so he could tease you about all the times you'd nagged him. Instead, he saw his brother walking towards him, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. Jaime knew something was wrong. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“Just admiring the view,” Tyrion said, “You can see the entire span of the docks from up here. You might want to take a walk there later.”

Jaime gave him a strange look.

“Tyrion, what's going on?” he asked, his tone serious.

Tyrion's face seemed to shift before he smiled up at him, extending his arms.

“Give your brother a hug, would you?”

“What?” Jaime recoiled.

“Give me a hug,” Tyrion said through his teeth, “Hurry.”

Jaime awkwardly embraced his brother, about to pull away when Tyrion spoke in a hushed tone. 

“Don't have any reaction to what I'm about to say,” he said lowly, looking over his shoulder before continuing, “Cersei threatened (Y/n)'s life. Westeros isn't safe for her anymore.”

Jaime felt his blood run cold, his arms numb as he felt his jaw go slack. 

“Now you listen to me,” Tyrion continued, “you have until nightfall to tell that girl how you feel before she boards a Braavos bound ship and disappears forever. You only meet a woman like that once in a lifetime, don't waste your chance. There's eyes and ears everywhere, be careful.”

Tyrion pulled away, looking his brother in the eyes.

“Got it?”

Jaime didn't have to be told twice. The mere thought of you being in danger made his chest ache, and his body seemed to run on autopilot as ran towards the stone ramp to the docks. 

He didn't care about the strange glances he received as he sprinted across the viewpoint, turning the corner quickly as he approached the main gates of the Keep. As he did he nearly ran into someone and they put their hands on his shoulders to steady him. 

“What's the matter?” 

As Jaime looked up he met the eyes of his sister, mock concern spread across her features. 

“I don't have time for this, Cersei,” he huffed, trying to restrain himself. He was absolutely livid that she threatened you and moved to push past her, but she caught his arm before he could leave, spinning him around. 

“Jaime, what's gotten into you? You're not feeling well, I'm sure. You need to rest or you'll-”

“Cersei, move,” he growled.

“Jaime, my love-”

“NOW!”

Cersei recoiled in shock, Jaime rarely ever raised his voice at her, but he paid her no mind as he shoved his way past and continued to run towards the docks before it was too late-

Before you were gone for good.

Cersei grit her teeth hard as she watched her brother run off, her jaw taught and a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“Guards!” she called out, a group of armored Kingsguards at her side in an instant, “That girl with the sword, (Y/n). . . I've changed my mind. Find her immediately, and kill her.”

The knights glanced at each other hesitantly and Cersei snapped. 

“Did I stutter?! I am your Queen, I gave you an order, and I expect you to deliver now!”

The guards nodded in tentative affirmation before taking off after Jaime. Cersei watched them disappear into the crowd of the dock's market before turning on her heels and walking back to the Red Keep, still steaming.

She wanted you dead, and Cersei Lannister always got what she wanted.

_____________________________________________________________

You sighed as you dragged another armful of your belongings out into the alleyway between your house and the tavern. You didn't own much since you were always on the move, just a small collection of essentials and things you'd picked up along your travels. You struggled to fit everything into the two large bags you usually carried, your eyes drifting to the dock every so often to make sure the ship you planned to sneak onto wasn't setting sail early. 

As you returned your attention to packing your things, the hair on the back of your neck stood up as you heard rapidly approaching footsteps behind you. Your other bag as well as your sword were still inside your house, and you tried to calm your heart rate as you quickly turned around to face the source of the noise.

Your eyes widened as you saw Jaime running towards you, out of breath and in the casual clothes he usually wore for training instead of his armor. His brow was furrowed in concentration that quickly turned into relief as you made eye contact. He skid to a stop in front of you and you took an instinctive step back.

“You can't be here,” you said, your eyes darting around you to make sure no one saw you two talking. 

“(Y/n), wait, just listen to me-”

“Stay back,” you said, trying to fight the waver in your voice, “It's not safe, you're not safe.”

Jaime put his hands up, staying where he was.

“(Y/n), please, I just need to talk to you,” he said. 

“I can't,” you said, “I. . . I can't tell you why, but I'm not supposed to-”

“I know about Cersei,” he said, disappointed in himself for not protecting you from her. He knew what kind of person she truly was, he was just too blinded by love to see or care.

“Then you know I have to leave,” you said, forcing your emotions down and refusing to let them surface, “There's a ship that'll take me back to Braavos, if I'm not on it by sundown. . .”

“You can't leave,” Jaime said adamantly.

“I don't want to, but I don't have a choice. Just go,” you pleaded.

Your eyes widened as Jaime suddenly drew his sword, making you take another step back.

“Jaime?”

“Get back!” he called out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind him just in time to block the incoming attack from the Kingsguard that was sneaking up on you. 

“Stand down,” Jaime ordered the man.

“I take my orders from the Queen,” he scoffed, lifting his helmet to reveal Grag, the knight you had fought at the royal banquet, “And besides, this is my rightful payback!”

Without warning he lunged forward, his sword outstretched. Jaime moved fast, pushing you to the side and parrying Grag's attack.

“Where's your sword?” Jaime asked you. 

“Still in the house,” you said, your eyes never leaving the knight.

“Get inside,” Jaime said. 

“Not a chance,” you protested, “This is my fight, he wants me, you shouldn't get involved!”

“Listen to your little whore, Lannister,” Grag smirked, “If you're good I'll yet you watch her die.”

Jaime's jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth would shatter, bringing his sword down on top of the knight with a great yell. Grag grunted as Jaime's sword made contact with his armored shoulder, narrowly missing his neck. Grag swung at Jaime, hitting the Lannister in the face with the hilt of his sword. Jaime recoiled as the impact broke the skin on his face, blood spilling over his cheek. 

Grag grabbed Jaime by the shirt and struck him across the face again, the hard metal of his gauntlet slicing into the skin of Jaime's face once again. Grinning at the sight of his handiwork, Grag lifted Jaime's body by his shoulders and slammed the back of his head into the stone wall of the alley. 

“Jaime!” you cried out, moving to run to him only to have your path blocked by Grag's sword.

“I told you him I'd let him watch, remember?” Grag sneered as he turned to you, “Perhaps I can get a few good uses out of you before I have to cut your head off.”

Your heart pounded in your ears as you felt the small dagger in your sleeve slip into your hand. Your grip on the handle tightened as Grag advanced on you. 

“Scream as loud as you want, whore,” he smirked, “no one will hear you.” 

Just as you were about to attack him, a gargled shout rang out into the alleyway. You instinctively shut your eyes as you felt a warm liquid splatter onto your face. When you opened them again Grag had his mouth open in shock, his eyes just as wide.

The blade of Jaime's sword was coming out the front of Grag's throat, every movement he made caused a fresh river of blood to pour from the wound. He gargled and choked before Jaime removed the blade, causing the knight to crumple to the floor in a pathetic heap. 

Jaime looked down at the man with distaste before plunging his sword into the side of his head. The choking sounds ceased, as did any signs of movement from Grag.

“What the hell did you do?” you said, horrified, but not for the knight's death, “Why would you step in like that? He wanted to kill me, you shouldn't have-”

“I'm sorry, I just got the pulp beaten out of me to save you,” Jaime said with incredulous sarcasm, “My face is my most valuable asset, a 'thank you' would be appreciated.”

You didn't know whether you wanted to thank him or hit him- his tongue was just as sharp even in a situation like this.

“Jaime, he took his orders from Cersei,” you struggled to explain, “You're the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, you could be killed for treason for this.”

“I don't care,” he insisted, exhaling sharply before looking you in the eyes. 

“Come with me,” he said, a pleading in his voice that surprised even him.

You attempted to stifle the bitter laugh that escaped your lips. 

“Where?”

“Away,” he said, “Away from King's Landing, somewhere you'll be safe.”

“I'm not safe anywhere,” you quietly admitted. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm cursed, Jaime,” you said, a tremor sneaking into your voice, “My mother and father were murdered by men with no faces and no names, and no matter where I go they always find me. People who get too close to me always end up dead, it's why I can never stay in one place for long. And now with Cersei after me. . . so long as you're with me you'll never be safe, don't you understand that?”

“I don't care,” he insisted again, taking your hands in his.

“Well you should!” you shouted, pushing him away, “you should care, because I'd never be able to forgive myself if you died because of me!” 

His expression softened as tears of frustration began to well up in your eyes. 

“It'll take more than a couple of faceless men to kill me,” he said softly.

“You don't know what they're capable of,” you said, shaking your head.

“And they've never met me,” he countered. 

Your heart swelled at his persistence, but you couldn't help the feeling gnawing at the pit of your stomach. 

“But, Cersei-”

“Is a ruthless woman,” Jaime stopped you, “full of hate and spite for everyone but her children.”

“Your children,” you said, your voice breaking, “It's true, isn't it? You love her.”

Your broken expression made Jaime's heart lurch painfully, but he told you the truth.

“I thought I did,” he said, “But everything is different now. . . Cersei and I used to say that we were the only two people in the world. No one else mattered. But now I see that Cersei's world really only includes herself. When I'm with her it's like I don't feel. . . anything, anymore. Not like when I'm with you.”

You searched his eyes for any trace of lie or doubt but found none. As the realization hit you, a smile crept onto your face as much as you tried to fight it. 

“Jaime Lannister, you are the most ridiculous man I've ever met,” you laughed lightly. 

He couldn't help but join in, your laughter a sound he wanted to forge into his memory. 

“(Y/n). . . I've made more mistakes in my life than I can count,” he said, the most honest and sincere you'd ever seen him, “I was arrogant and naive and I thought I was invincible. I didn't think I'd ever need someone else. But now I can see just how wrong I was. I promise, no harm will ever come to you as long as I'm here. Fuck whatever Gods are out there, I swear this to you. From this day until-”

You took him by surprise as you threaded your fingers through his golden hair, effectively cutting him off by pressing your lips to his. After recovering from his initial shock, his good hand instinctively went to your waist, pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss. It was as if all the pent up feelings were coming to light, and neither of you could get enough of it. After what seemed like eternity and a fraction of a second at the same time, you slowly pulled away from each other.

“For a pretty boy you sure do talk a lot,” you smiled weakly. 

A grin spread across Jaime's features.

“Well, feel free to shut me up any time,” he chuckled.

You smiled and shook your head, gently brushing your thumb across his bloodied cheek.

“It's going to be dangerous,” you said, still wary of what challenges you were sure to face if you were going to be together. 

“Well, I have the best fighter in all of Braavos to protect me, now don't I?” Jaime grinned. His grin only widened at your reaction.

You looked at him with disbelief but felt your heart soar. 

“How the fuck is this going to work?” you chuckled breathlessly. 

He moved to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as he looked at you with an expression that made you melt.

“It just will,” he assured you. 

And for some inexplicable reason, you felt there was truth to his words. 

You couldn't help but smile and lean in to capture his lips once again, and even if for just a moment, the whole world ceased to exist around you- Cersei, the war, the faceless men, the Gods old and new. 

It wasn't going to be easy, but so long as you and Jaime had each other, you had a fighting chance. 

#game of thrones x reader #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #tyrion lannister #jaime x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones

[boisoup-blog]

something more than a favour, chapter 2  /  READ ON AO3  /  CHAPTER 1 fandom: Assassin’s Creed Odyssey pairing: Brasidas/Kassandra additional tags: everyone lives au, fake marriage au, unrequited feelings, slightly nsfw, best read on A03 in case it gets flagged

Kassandra didn’t know where she was, when she got there or how she got there but, regardless. she was enjoying herself. Lying on her back on the surprisingly soft ground, her feet were planted, lifting her hips towards her paramour. She was too enthralled by pleasure to look who was down there but she’s had someone else’s tongue lapping at her clit enough to know what they’re doing. Kassandra is also sure she felt hair scratching the skin around her slit, like a beard.  

One of her hands heads down her body towards her lover, to grab at surprisingly short hair. One thing she deduced was that it was a Spartan down there, a braid prominent on the top of his head. However, her investigation was stilted by a finger pushing through her folds, instantly hooking and dragging along her walls. Her eyes squeezed shut, her hand tightened in his hair, probably messing up the braid, and she moaned, it wasn’t very loud but it was enough for her lover to growl. With that one sound, two things happened, her core tightened as she moaned again, and she figured out who was pleasuring her so.

This must be a dream, she thought to herself, although she ultimately did not want to wake up. Removing her hand from his head, both hands went to his shoulders as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, to look down at Brasidas of Sparta. His eyes were dark, hooded and predatory, the hair along his upper lip covered in her. Her hands slid from his shoulders, (unfortunately his cuirass covers most of his upper body, what a wet dream this is,) to his neck, then up to cup his face, beard soft beneath her fingers.  

Brasidas opened his mouth as if to say something, but instead of words, he barked. And barked again. Every time he barked, it became more and more dog-like, until her eyes shot open, Kassandra finding herself in bed and alone. Spurred by a chorus of dogs, she swung her legs out of bed and ran her hands over her face before she stood up and marched to the window. Two dogs were sat barking at nothing. Absolute. Nothing. Grinding her teeth and scowling, she reached out of the window, grabbed the shutters and slammed them closed.  

Aphrodite must be playing with her; she’s tired, angry and sexually frustrated. Gods watch over whoever angers her today because she’s in the mood to punch someone.  

After getting dressed, Kassandra stomped into the kitchen, Brasidas nowhere in sight, only a selection of fruits and a small loaf of bread sat on a plate. He must’ve thrown something together before leaving to do whatever it is he does in the morning. Stupid Brasidas of Sparta, he manages to make her feel better without even doing anything. Still, she took the bread and a few of figs and apples, managing to carry them outside so she could stuff them in the saddle bag she recently brought for Phobos.  

She wasn’t going to do anyone any good by sitting and letting her frustration fester like an infection in an open wound. Kassandra isn’t some helpless maiden who wallows in self-pity, instead, she’s the kind of woman who goes and beats the shit out of something with a stick. Alexios also happened to be taking care of the Adrestia whilst she completes her duty as a wife, (or deals with "malakas marital bullshit," as her beloved little brother liked to put it.) either way, she knows Alexios would be put for a little sibling rough housing.  

Kassandra rushes through Sparta, the wind nipping at Phobos’ heels as they rode toward Gytheion. Fortunately, the people of Lakonía know how to get out of the way of a pent up misthios and her horse.  

She finds the Adrestia exactly where she left her, Eagle figurehead standing proud (Ikaros also perched on his mirrors head, plucking feathers,) and Barnabas and his men running around the ship. Alexios, however, was stood at the helm leering over the bees working around him. If Kassandra had to guess, he’s been barking orders all day and not doing anything himself, but did she really expect anything else?

She dismounted Phobos and stepped over the gap between the dock and ship, Barnabas chirping at her happily, welcoming her back home. If life hadn’t gone her way and she never spared Nikolaos (and subsequently spared Stentor,) never found her mother and never spared Deimos, the Adrestia would’ve been there to welcome her home. Fortunately, fate, the Gods, whatever it was, smiled on her and everyone came home safe.

“Kassandra, what brings you to my boat?” Alexios greeted with a vicious smile, trying to egg his sister into confrontation as he did. Alexios is not Deimos but, he still clings to parts his former identity; Kassandra thinks it’s like a safety blanket, he has known nothing but violence and when all else fails, resorts to it because it’s what has the highest success rate.

Regardless, Kassandra crossed her arms as she responded, “firstly, this is my ship.” Alexios’ smile got bigger, his eyes narrowed on his sister, getting the rise he wanted. “Secondly, I need to hit something.” Alexios paused for a moment, smile faltering before being replaced by a booming laugh.

“Oh, you can try.” Alexios jumped over the railings from the helm to the deck, a large thud when he landed. One day, either Alexios or Kassandra are going to go straight through the deck down to the rowers. “Marital bullshit finally gone to shit?” He asked, shoving into his sisters' shoulder, forcing her arms to uncross as she grunted a reply to him. If she were anyone else, she would’ve gone flying into the deck. (“Gods blood,” Barnabas probably thought as he tried to usher them off the ship and onto solid land.)

The two of them had unspoken rules about sparring: no weapons, no hair pulling, no kicking private areas and, most importantly, no breaking bones, except noses. As misthios, both of them needed all their bones in working order to do misthios things, like hold a sword, kick someone, count drachmae, etc.  

On solid land, the two of them circled each other, Barnabas off to the side holding all their weapons. Alexios was still very impatient, looking like he was going to pounce any moment but, Kassandra has beaten him before and she’ll be damned if she lets him win today. A smug smirk on her face, she motioned for her brother to come at her with her hands before bawling them back into fists. Apparently, that’s all she needed to do as Alexios charged into her, knocking both of them on the floor.  

For a brief second, Kassandra felt all the air leave her lungs before she gasped for air, throwing her arms over her head to protect it. Alexios immediately tried to prize her arms apart, sitting on top of her so she couldn’t escape.  

“Stop. Being. A. Coward.” Alexios argued, his plans to break down her defences going nowhere. However, being so bull-headed and impatient to win, Alexios made the mistake of bending his head down. Kassandra immediately broke her guard, grappling her brothers head, the inside of her elbow pressing on his neck. Using his neck as leverage, she managed to shake his balance and roll them over so she could let go of him and stand up.

“I’m not a coward, just patient,” Kassandra finally teased, shaking her arms out as Alexios stood up, scowling at his sister. They started circling each other again, Alexios momentarily rubbing the front of his neck, leaving Kassandra snickering. “Did I hurt you, little Alexios?” she teased again, she knew he hated the idea of being belittled, and it spurred him into making mistakes.

As planned, he ran at her, flurrying hit at her as she ducked under his wider swings, jabbing him in the side. However, what she did not expect is him to swing wildly behind him, the backs of his knuckles hitting her straight in the eye. She tumbled to the floor, completely shocked and bewildered, her hands over her eye, as Alexios stopped, concerned before teasing, “Did I hurt you, little Kassandra?”

That's when Kassandra removed her hands from her eye and scowled at Alexios, every ounce of aggression in her body ready to come out at once. “I’m going to make you wish mater was here,” she threatened, “so you could hide behind her skirts!”  

It was sun set when Brasidas finally sat down on the edge of their bed, hands running over his face. It had been a long, long, long, long, long day. Training young Spartans at the ass crack of dawn, rushing off to a military meeting with Archidamos and Agesipolis, then rushing off to another meeting with other Spartan generals. He then had 10 minutes to eat before continuing with his schedule. What made this day so much worse is how he work up this morning.

Kassandra was sound asleep, tucked against his side, hair all across her face, occasionally snoring. At first, he thought he was dreaming but, the more he woke up the more he realised it was real and she was real. His heart started an unbearable pace that kept fading and reappearing at the worst times. He was mid conversation, listening to the young King Agesipolis when the image of Kassandra drifted back into his mind, near enough making his heart skip a beat.

Brasidas finally flopped back on the bed, my mind like an ocean just filled with thoughts of her. This has never happened before, both waking up with her against him and not being able to shake her from his thoughts. He’s always been able to be professional when working, pushing whatever thoughts back to the deep recesses of his mind. But Eros & Aphrodite seemed to making it their mission to plague him with thoughts of her.

He was unsure of how long he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts doing backflips, swinging from strategy and war to Kassandra, sleeping peacefully. However, he heard movement downstairs in the entrance, then thudding as if someone was stomping their way through the house. There was only one person who moved like an elephant when they think they’re alone.  

And there she was, Kassandra, with a black eye, looking exceptionally pissed off. Brasidas fought the urge to bolt up off the bed and interrogate her until she told him what happened, instead carefully rising up from his lying position, concern painting his features. “What happened?” he asked, standing up and moving towards her.

“Oh, you know, Alexios,” she said nonchalantly, folding her arms across her chest, as she did, “I felt like hitting someone but, unlike most people, he knows how to hit back.” She was posturing it as if nothing was wrong, however, as a frequent culprit himself, Brasidas knows when there's something wrong. Plus, despite Kassandra’s ardent belief that Alexios and Deimos are different people, Brasidas can’t look at her younger brother, without squeezing the wound on his leg and thinking of Pylos and he can’t even remember what happened at Amphipolis. (Kassandra continually ignores his question of what happened, glancing off to another topic.) Brasidas did not trust Alexios and would personally murder the man if he left Kassandra with any lasting wounds.

However, Brasidas took her word for it, although, he was intrigued as to why she wanted to hit something. He supposed that she is a misthios and fights on a near enough day to day basis, maybe she just wanted to keep herself sharp, just in case. “Let me go get a cloth,” Brasidas said, before briefly going down stairs, grabbing a cloth, soaking it in the bucket of clean water, ringing it out and returning to Kassandra. “Hold it over your eye, it should reduce the swelling.” He told her, folding the cloth and placing it over her eye until she held it herself.

“I could’ve done this myself,” she told him, herself sufficient attitude surfacing. He assumes it something that growing up on Kephallonia taught her, not to rely on others when you can rely on yourself. Whereas Sparta, for all it’s tough love, teaches camaraderie and protecting your fellow soldier. Brasidas sometimes wonders if their relationship would be different if she was raised in Sparta. What would they be? Who would she be?

“Thank you,” Kassandra said, taking the cloth off her eye for a moment, blinking and putting it back on, “for the cloth and for breakfast this morning.” Brasidas, sat back on the edge of the bed, taking his grieves off, looked up at her for a moment and smiled softly.

Between the two of them, they cooked a rabbit for dinner, Kassandra kept trying to tell him that it was going to burn but, Brasidas kept telling her that he had cooked hundreds of rabbits and has never burnt one. It was a little burnt. Throughout dinner, she kept telling him, “I told you so.”  

Brasidas went up to bed first, sitting under the sheets reading war plans to go over tomorrow at a meeting, the candle light making it only just visible. Kassandra soon followed, (her armour removed earlier that evening) and she sat next to him, reading over his shoulder, taking the cloth off her eye. “That’s... a lot of troops,” she said, sounding a little surprised, “are you going to be one of them?”

Brasidas put the plans down, “yes, Archidamos wants experienced Generals to defend Arcadia from Athens.” He knew, that for once, the weakening of Arcadia wasn’t Kassandra’s fault, it was some pesky mercenary that Athens hired. “With luck from the Gods, it shouldn’t take too long.” He sighed, knowing that it would be a difficult campaign, even with Lagos still Archon, but it would be a vital foothold for Sparta.

“Well, if you need help, you know where I am.” Kassandra offered. Brasidas knew how much she had helped (and hindered) Sparta in its conquests, mostly in Megaris, Pylos and supposedly Amphipolis. “For Drachmae, of course,” she teased, elbowing him in the side, chuckling.

“For all you joke, Sparta may actually need you,” he replied, a little seriously for what she was probably expecting. He looked over at her; the black eye, given to her by Alexios, looked as if it was starting to go down. “Let me have a look,” he said as he leaned forward, then looked back, having a different angle but a better look at her eye. “Archidamos will want an exciting story for that black eye,” he warned, a hint of teasing in his voice as he directed the conversation away from battle plans.

“And he’ll get one,” she started, a victorious smile on her face, “of me pommelling my malakas brother!”  

Brasidas let out an unexpected bark of a laugh, the look on Kassandra’s face went from amused to confusion. Was he not meant to find it funny? Did she actually beat her brother into the ground? Either way, Brasidas was sure the change in the look on her face was not a good one, so he asked, “What’s with that look? Was that not meant to be funny.”

Kassandra quickly put herself back together, a placid look on her face, although whatever she was feeling was betrayed by the blood rising to the top of her ears. She lay down, pulled the sheet over herself and abruptly said, “it’s nothing, good night.”  

Brasidas was the epitome of confusion, spending a moment dwelling on what he said, what he did before accepting that he’d never figure it out. He blew out the candle and settled to sleep himself.

#assassins creed fanfiction #kassandra (assassins creed) #kassandra/brassidas #brassandra #brassidas (assassins creed) #***ff

[gilorestel]

A sorta Demo from my book!

It’s a chapter from my upcoming novel that I’d like you to read, kinda like a demo, especially @promptoschocohoe and @neil-gaiman(If he’s interested). I don’t want corrections on stuff like grammar or spelling, just the overall feel and if the things I went for work. Genres are romance and a bit horror/mystery. Yes, the protagonist is a dude, but cmon. 

Darkness there and nothing more.

I sat in my rather grand room, thinking. I wasn't thinking about anything particular, my mind was just reviewing all the things that had happened to bring me thus far. My mind was someplace entirely else, when someone knocked on the door. I bolted up almost comically and went to see who it was. To my surprise, it was Morticia. She now had a different dress on, that looked a lot heavier than the one from before, but still just as gorgeous. The dress was following the same dark and cold motives as the first one, but with less detail and a lot darker and silkier. This dress, though, looked more like one you would wear to shield against the coldness rather than being a physical embodiment of it. Just as I was finishing my thoughts, I looked up and practically starred into her face. Morticia had a thin, lean face with a pointy chin. Her mouth was wide, but that did not make her overall appearance worse. She had bound her hair back with a kind of knot on the back of her head, but that did not elude from the fact that it was surprisingly short. Normally, women of royalty or of great wealth had no need to cut their hair for practical purposes. They usually let it grow. When I finally came to examine her eyes, which were just the same as Jacob's, I realized I had been starring at her for a few to many moments. I only smiled sheepishly and asked her what she wanted. Her answer cut into my question. I had apparently taken to long for her comfort. “Dinner is served,” and then she vanished in the darkening shadows of the corridor. Well, it seemed it was time to get ready. I looked suspiciously at the clothes Jacob had laid out for me. After inspecting each article of clothing, I decided it wouldn't hurt to at least try them on. My struggle was a fierce one, but after what seemed like ages, I was finally able to put everything on. But after looking at myself in the mirror and deciding I couldn't and wouldn't wear this, I practically ripped everything off of me and went as I was dressed. The shadows had grown longer, I noticed as I made my way toward the entrance hall. From there, Jacob had said he would be waiting for me to pick me up, so that he could show me the way to the dining room. Room after room I passed. Great God this house is gigantic, I thought to myself. But finally, after some more rooms, some twists and turns, one small staircase followed by more rooms, I found the entrance hall. Below me stood Jacob, to whom I hurried. “This place looks totally different from the other side,” I said and gave myself a inner facepalm. I hate saying obvious things. Jacob laughed and said: “Yeah, things tend to do that from different perspectives. What happened to the clothes I lent you?,” He inquired after realizing I didn't wear the things he had laid out for me. “Well...,” I began, but Jacob interrupted me: “It's okay”, he grinned, “I never liked the things myself. I just thought they might fit you better than my other stuff” With that he referenced the fact that I was shorter than him. I elbowed his side and only replied with: “Want to show me to dinner?”. Jacob laughed and said: “Follow me, Sir”. This time I elbowed him even harder, which made him laugh even more. Jacob lead me through a series of corridors that all kind of looked the same, until we came to yet another set of double-winged doors. He pushed them open and gestured me to go in first. We stepped into a huge hall with a very long table set in the middle of it. And this table was filled with the most delicious looking stuff. There were honey roasted vegetables next to a strange, yellow-orange-ish drink that looked equally good, but the most eye-catching thing on the table wasn't something to eat, but it was the candle-holder in the middle of the huge table. It was apparently made of pure crystal, reflecting its own light throughout the whole room, somehow making the foods on the table look even better. “Like it?”, Jacob asked me unnecessarily, since he, judging by that playful smile surrounding his lips, already knew the answer. As an answer simply raised my hands to his face, held it softly,  and looked him in the eyes. His gaze said all I needed, and so I stretched a bit toward his face and kissed it softly. He lowered his head a bit so that we could better engage in smooching. We stood like this for the next ten seconds, our faces pressed against each other's. Until we heard a cough. That kind of cough that respectfully wanted to tell you that you weren't alone in the room anymore. So, we parted from our long kiss, and looked to the big doors, where Morticia was standing. I could never really read her expressions, because she either always smiled politely or showed no emotions at all. Even her eyes rarely did, which, according to some, couldn't actually lie. Emphasis on the “actually”. Morticia had her “emotionless” expression on, but quickly switched to the polite smile. “Dinner,” she said softly, “Don't forget about dinner”. Her long, dark blue dress made no sounds at all, as she slowly floated to her chair on the far end of the table. Just as soundless, and very graceful, she seated herself. We did the same, with me sitting myself directly next to Jacob. I let my gaze sweep the table once more. Oh, the deliciousness! The agony of choosing! My decision- making was, as always, brilliant, that's why I simply chose a small loaf of white bread with onions baked in it, and a red wine to drink. Who needs exotic foods and drinks to choose from, when you only need what you always eat, right? Is that a thing... you say? But I digress. I bit into the onion-bread with a big bite. It was still warm. This was quickly eaten up and I reached for the next deliciousness. I now saw that Morticia still sat there, smiling politely. I wanted to ask her why she wasn't eating with us, but decided against doing that. If she didn't want to eat any of this amazingly good-looking(and smelling) food, she just didn't. I was not in a position to judge anyone for that. I let my eyes wander around the room once more, this time without limiting myself to the large dinner table made probably from the wood of an incredibly old and rare tree. The hall was even bigger than the entrance hall, but just not as high. A silvern chandelier hung up on the ceiling and distributed light nicely around the room. But the chandelier and the crystal candle-holder weren't the only light sources. On one side of the room there was a enormous fire place in which an equally enormous fire burned. You could probably feel the heat radiating from it in every corner of the room. And it was tall. Very tall. Presumably so tall that you could easily fit in a standing man. I returned my attention to my food. Just as I was about to grab a bowl of salad and place it next to me, so that I may take from it comfortably, a cat jumped on the table. The salad bowl was thrown out of my hand, and sailed across the room. There, it smashed on the floor and broke neatly into two pieces. I could feel all six eyes darting at me, and my face turned red very quickly. “How?,” Jacob started after a short while, obviously very amused from this whole situation. “Cheshire didn't slap you, she didn't even touch you!” My face turned crimson-red. “I-I have to go-”, I stammered and stood up. After shutting the double winged doors behind me, I heard Morticia say quietly, but clear enough for me to understand: “Well, that was an awkward... thing, that just happened” I stood there for the next few minutes, baffled about how foolish I had made myself look. Why couldn't I have just stayed in there and laugh it off? I sighed out of disappointment for my social skills. Going in there again would be hell, so I just decided to walk about and look at the house. I hadn't seen much when we arrived, not more than the way to my room and the dining hall. Well, and of course the way to the front door. I shivered. It was cold outside the living spaces, which were all lit up with bright fires. That's why my first stop was my room, where I put on more warm clothing. Also, I lit a candle, because what idiot would explore a house without light, I thought whilst peering out a window facing a dark forest that looked like one big entity in this darkness, expanding far beyond the visible horizon. It may not be very late, but it was autumn, with winter creeping up. I wandered down long corridors, with my footsteps and my breath being the only sounds I heard, and looked at creepy medieval paintings that depicted gallant knights and bored, but pretty looking ladies. The light I held made everything look possibly ten times creepier than they probably were. Suddenly, I heard a noise. It sounded like a creaking door. Obviously, it came from behind me. But against all my urges, I did not turn around, as I was frozen to the spot I was standing on. The creaking had ceased, but it was replaced almost immediately by other sounds. Breathing. Footsteps. Coming toward me from behind. It couldn't really be a human doing those noises, seeing as the breathing was to loud and the footsteps too fast to qualify as human. Closer and closer they came. My whole body froze into a state of neither being able to duck and hide, nor to run away. The candle flickered as the footsteps sped up and came closer still. Just as they were right behind me, they stopped. But the breathing didn't. In fact, I could feel its breath on my neck. Slow, but steadily. A few moments passed. The breathing had stopped. But not suddenly, it sort of faded away. Finally, I let out my own breath, which I now only noticed that I had held it in for that long. It took me a few moments, but then I decided to carry on doing my exploring, even though I was still very much frightened by the thing that just happened moments before.  Carefully I set one step before the other, not wanting to generate any noise myself to hear it coming... if it came again. But after a while I couldn't hold the tension any longer and almost bolted to the door nearest to me. While still walking toward it, I tried to grab the doorknob. And while I touched it, I forgot to turn it, so I ended up running against it. Now, this was certainly something. After a second attempt I finally managed to open the door. I stumbled into the room and closed the door behind me, still fearing something to spring out at me while I wasn't looking. Relieved I leaned against the door and allowed myself to breathe a bit louder. I looked around. I was in a very large room, apparently, since all I could see were shadows dancing on the floor, that was only partially illuminated by my candle. A large room, huh, I thought. So it must have electricity. Next to the door I found a switch. So this room had electricity! I turned on the light and flickering the seemingly hundreds of light bulbs on the ceiling were lit. I was standing in a library. I loved books, and especially the older ones had a very special aesthetic that I just adored. And this very library seemed to be a source of old books. I almost screamed out of excitement, but then I remembered what just had happened and I shivered about the thought of it hearing and watching me. Whatever that just was. A ghost, mayhaps? But no matter, I was safe here. Or at least I felt safe. I began to wander through the library, past tall and wide shelves almost bursting with books. My fingers were almost instantly gray of dust as I brushed them on the many books as I past by. It even smelled wonderful in here! Of old paper, dust, and dry wood. I took a random book from the shelf. It was a book about cooking. I slowly opened it and made the discovery that it was a spanish cook book. I didn't speak spanish, so I couldn't be sure, but it definitely looked like spanish. The book next to it was a book with tips for intercourse. I blushed and closed it almost immediately, and went to the next book. This book, on the other hand, was the bible. I made the assumption that nobody had ever cared to sort any of these books ever. Not even genres were consistent. I discovered this after I saw that a romance novel, a collection of poems, and a ghost story standing side by side on the shelf below the one with the cook book. After a few more books opened and closed, I came to the conclusion that there was definitely no order to these things. I took the book of  poem collections and went to a comfortable looking chair near a cold fire place. On the way there I passed a window. The cold of the night streamed in through the thin glass. I shuddered, lit a candle that was near the stove, turned off the lights to save precious energy(a room full of light bulbs must cost a ton to maintain) and seated myself with the candle on the chair. It squeaked and protested, and I could swear a moth flew out of it as I sat down, but I remained seated nonetheless. I put the candle on a little table near me, and began to read. The first poem I opened at was, “The Raven”, from a chap called “Edgar Allan Poe”. I doze off when I was about half done reading, and woke up in complete darkness, the word “Nevermore” was still echoing in my mind. The candle had expired and I only now noticed how freezing cold it was in here. I waved my hand in front of my face to see how much I could see. And that was hardly anything. I sighed and fumbled around on he small table if I had taken the lighter with me. Of course I hadn't. I wanted to sigh again, but I froze as I saw a light behind a bookshelf lighting up. It wavered up and down, left and right, never standing still. My first thought was that it might be someone holding a candle, but as my eyes adjusted to this new brightness, I realized. The light was glowing green. For what seemed like hours I stared at it, not having the courage of investigating what the hell that was. But slowly and surely I made the decision to do so. And just as slowly I uncovered myself and stood up. Just in that moment the window closest to me burst open which made the curtains flutter in the ice cold wind and I imagine large amounts of dust clouds and perhaps even a few lighter books being lifted off of into the air. In the split second this happened I ran over to the window and shut it almost as quickly as it had happened. As I closed the window, I could hear thunder rolling in the distance. My heart thundered as well. Now, again with silence dominating the room, I looked back at the light. It was gone. But there I saw it, in another corner. Again it remained hidden behind a bookshelf, so I couldn't  make out its source, but with new-found courage, I went to investigate. Slowly I stumbled my way to the light's source, hitting my knee against chairs and shelves that just stood kind of off as I proceeded. I was certainly still very self conscious about the noises I made, but I worried less and less about them the closer I got. But right before I could turn around the corner of the shelf and see what cast such a light, it fled. Again I slowly made my way to the light, but this time, it stayed. It was like a glowing orb of green light, wavering around in the air. It didn't have an exact shape, it just looked like it was shaped. My breathing increased as I lifted my hand to touch it. Just before my fingers came into contact with it, it vanished. I looked around, seeking where it could be next, but it was gone. Totally. Suddenly, something was screaming. It was an unnatural, high pitched sound, and it filled the room. My ears felt like they were bleeding, from all that and I covered my ears with the palm of my hands and sank to the ground. I wanted it to stop! And then it did. But right as the monstrous screaming stopped, I heard glass shatter. The light bulbs must've not liked all that screaming, I noted, as I felt and heard glass fall to the floor from a great height. Just in that moment Jacob burst into the room. He automatically tried the switch, but as no light turned on, he ignored it and began yelling my name in despair. I could hardly hear him, my ears were still numb, but I yelled back anyways, still curled up at the floor, eyes closed and ears covered. Somehow, even in this complete darkness, he found me. Even though there were glass splinters everywhere on the floor and on my back, he took me in his arms. Eventually he helped me stand up, brush all the remaining glass off of me and hugged me once again. “So, what happened?”; Jacob asked softly, “We've been looking for you. After your sudden disappearance at dinner I of course looked for you in your room, But after you weren't there... I asked Morticia if she would help me find you. And by God I needed her. This house is way to big for the three of us” “You think yourself the house is to big?”, I asked in surprise, “Didn't you grow up here?” Jacob shook his head, “No, I didn't. I grew up in a much smaller house. We only moved here when I was maybe your age. And even if I had, this house would still be to big”, he smiled at me in understanding, “So, what happened”, he repeated, this time expecting an answer. “I- I don't know, I was just... embarrassed-” “No, not that,” he smiled even brighter, in amusement this time, “I mean here, what happened here”. Still lying in his arms, in began my tale: “After that... indecent, I went exploring this house. This castle of a house,” I smiled back at him when I said this, “and then something... strange happened. I think I was almost molested by a ghost!”, Jacob laughed at this, looked around and then said: “Well, it looks more like the ghost took out a great wooden club and smashed all these lights.” “No, no, I mean-before that,” I gathered my breath and continued: “When I was on the way here it happened. I was walking down the hall, looking at these super old, super creepy paintings, and then it was like I was being followed. I heard noises, like footsteps, and then something was breathing on my neck... so I fled in here,” I swallowed, noticing only now how thirsty I was, “in here... there was this weird light, and I-I am scared!” And I was scared as I recalled those frightening moments. “Shush,” Jacob hugged me tighter, “I'm here with you, I'm here...” Slowly I relaxed. I was not alone. Jacob was here, with me. “So he is found?”, a voice called from the doorway. It was of course, Morticia. “Yes, he is here,” Jacob replied. “Good. Don't ever lose him again in this house,” she said and was gone. I looked at Jacob curiously and asked: “What-what's that about?” He looked at me strangely and said: “She meant the house. It's so vast... She worries you might lose yourself in it” “Lose myself in it? That's a weird way to say I might get lost” “Ah well, Morticia...”, he only replied and proceeded to help me get up. “Let's go,” he then said and we left the library in silence. For what seemed like the tenth time today Jacob led me through the house. We arrived in a small kitchen, where he showed me to a couch directly next to a large window. “Uhm, Jacob,” I asked, “why is there a couch in a kitchen? And where did all the food come from today? I haven't seen a servant at all. And if you don't have servants, then who made all of it?” “Whoa, slow down mister,” he said, looking taken aback, “Okay, so, the servants have already left for today, but there are still servants. Even though I plan on firing most, if not all due to our relationship. And those servants made the food, okay?”, he glanced over to the couch, and the couch is just there because why not.” “Rich people are so weird,” I stated and then asked: “And why are we in a kitchen?” Jacob sighed: “Questions about questions, huh? Because I thought it'd be nice for you to eat a bit more and also I wanted to have a bit privacy with you, without making certain sisters suspicious. So, now it's your turn to answer me some questions” I seated myself next to him and said: “I'm not hungry, thank you, but what for questions?” Jacob took a moment before he finally asked me: “Well, your backgrounds, for instance. I know where you come from and that you lived with your aunt, but hardly anything else. Like your parents” As Jacob saw my blank face I got after hearing his questions, he quickly added: “N-Not if you don't want to, honestly, I can handle not knowing quite well” “No, no it's okay”, I assured him and thought about what to tell him. “My life had always been a horrid one,” I finally started, unsure where to begin. I decided my birth would be a good place to do so: “Born with only one eye functioning, as you can clearly see, and a father that died on a business trip when I was only three or so, my life shaped up to be a glamorous one, overflowing with luck.” Neither Jacob nor I chuckled at this dry joke. We were both much to melancholic for that. “After that my mother fell into depression, yet she still wanted to care for her child, and so remarried, after maybe three years or so” I took a deep breath before I went on. “That lucky bastard didn't quite turn out how we expected, working hard and earning almost nothing, and he soon was injured by a speeding train ignoring the stop signals, while he was working to repair the tracks. Long story short, there was a major explosion and he was completely burned and paralyzed, leaving him to our care. At least, that's what would've happened if he hadn't stopped breathing in the middle of one night, next to my mother, who was still clutching their big pillow the next morning that was smeared full of burned skin and a bit of blood he must've coughed up during the whole ordeal, still trying to breathe desperately.” After saying this I looked at Jacob, trying to read his emotions. It didn't happen every day you revealed your mother to be a murderer. But Jacob didn't even look at me, starring glumly out of the window. Taking another deep breath, I continued: “Or that's what I figured, I was only seven back then after all. Nobody ever suspected her though, or maybe the people coming to mourn for him and our loss just took pity on us. Maybe no one just cared” Here, I stopped. The next part was going to be difficult for me: “But one day my mother came home announcing that she now knew how to care for us, and from that day on a lot of people came in and out of our house. They all slept in her room, and most were men. She told me they stayed the night because they worked here in this part of the city but lived some place else. I don't know how much of that was actually true, but the money came in, you know. At least, until she got sick.” Jacob turned and looked at me, not with disgust, as I had dreaded, but with pity in his eyes. I knew the look. Pity was the kind of thing you felt for others when you couldn't relate to those people, but you did feel sad for them. I came to hate seeing from strangers when they saw me walking down the streets with my obvious disfigurement. But in Jacob's eyes I could read he actually cared. Now, with a running nose and tears that appeared in the corners of his eyes, Jacob asked: “What kind of sick?” I paused and thought about it for a bit. Then I explained, or tried to, my voice shaking: “A lot of stuff. She bleed a lot through her nose and mouth, so places you shouldn't bleed from and couldn't move much. I cared for her. Made her food, made her fire extra large when she felt cold under the amounts of blankets she was under. She also had bruises everywhere, especially on her... well, buttocks and cheeks. I never said anything, even as I came to understand what they meant. The people still came though. But then... she died.” Anyone else might have started crying after having to face such horrible memories again, especially a memory as sad as the death of a loved one. But I only felt a familiar coldness spread in my chest. Jacob now had tears rolling. “The officials came and took me to live with my aunt. Life was okay with her, but I'm still very glad we met. I'd be fine with a better life, with you”, I finally said and hugged Jacob tightly. After silent moments of us gazing out of the kitchen window, Jacob simply said: “Yeah”

It was raining when I woke up. I could feel and hear Jacob's heart as it was pounding against my ear. We both were still nuzzled together in a very uncomfortable looking, but very comfortable feeling position on the couch next to the window. Outside gray clouds had taken over the early morning sun and the wind was soaring through the treetops, bending the branches and loosening the leaves. It looked like winter was tightening its grip. I lay my head down on Jacob's strong chest for just a few moments longer. “This moment seems like a dream”, I whispered, mostly to myself, but also to see if Jacob was awake. And sure enough he was, as he whispered back: “Then it is a good dream. Let the nightmare pass”. In that very moment, I felt my whole being fill with love, as strange as that sounded. His hand started caressing my hair and so did my hands with his beard. He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead and said: “Good morning, my love” I closed my eyes again and relished the moment. The noise of the rain drumming against the window, Jacob's heartbeat and warmth and my sleepiness made this moment perfect. A good dream indeed.

#gay romance #novel #horror #mystery

[writing-vibes-only]

4/21/21

Prompt: Tell the story of the witch who lives in the enchanted forest, misunderstood by the villagers nearby. 

Word count: 1,780

Celia looked up sharply from her gardening as she heard the sound of something crashing through the brambles. It was rare someone visited these parts; even more so that they weren’t hostile. Dropping her gardening shears, she reached a delicate hand for her wand. Though she wasn’t as young as she was in her adventuring days, she could take on whatever was coming at her. Right? She shook the uncertainty from her head and readied her stance. 

Just as she raised her arm to cast a spell, a trembling, dirty blur crashed into her feet. She blinked twice in surprise, and put her wand away. 

“P-please don’t hurt me! I didn’t mean to run through your garden. I h-have to get away, I can’t let her hurt me anymore.” 

Celia kneeled down and wiped the tears off the dirty, scared face of a young boy. He couldn’t have been older than seven. 

“It’s okay,” She said softly, “I wasn’t going to hurt you,” The boy sniffed and wiped his face with his torn sleeve. 

“Really?” he asked. She shook her head and smiled reassuringly. 

“Why would I hurt an innocent little boy?” The boy looked down. 

“Everyone says you’re a witch.” Ceilia laughed, but there was no malice in her tone. Instead, warm, clear notes filled the air. 

“I am a witch, but I would never hurt somebody. At least not without good reason.” The boy nodded, and stood up from the ground. He was scrawny, probably underfed, with clothes full of thorns and dirt. An unkempt mop of sandy brown hair, though it could have been any color, considering how dirty he was, sat atop his pale, tear streaked face. She noticed a rather large cut on his knee.

“Would you like to come in?” she asked kindly, “I could fix that cut for you. I have a loaf of bread from this morning and soup from last night if you’re hungry.” The boy paused, as if considering his options. Night was falling, and the forest would soon be too dangerous for a small child like himself. 

“Okay,” He replied, and Celia smiled as she led him into her quaint abode. Several cats milled about, and the boy was met with the smell of freshly baked bread and flowers from the garden. 

“Would you like to go into the washroom and clean that cut while I make supper? I think I have some clothes I shrunk on accident that might fit if you want to change.” The boy nodded eagerly at the prospect of a hot meal, and Celia smiled at his response. Both of them disappeared into their respective rooms, and Celia began to make various items float around the kitchen. 

Two bowls of soup and a bandaged cut later, the boy sat nestled into a large armchair by the fireplace. Celia peered curiously into the eyes of the child, who opted to look instead at the floor. 

“What’s your name?” she asked suddenly. The boy looked startled, but answered. 

“Luke.”

“Luke…” she echoed, trailing off. 

“Why were you running through the forest earlier? You said you had to get away.” The boy appeared even smaller in the firelight. He didn’t answer right away. 

“It’s… my mom. I had to get away from her.” Celia’s brows knit together in concern, but she nodded for him to continue. His eyes welled with tears. “She hits me… for no reason! I couldn’t take it anymore!” He sniffed again, then continued, “My dad is away, fighting in the war. I think my mom thinks I made him leave.” He looked up suddenly, and the expression on his face made Celia's heart break. “You’re not going to send me back, are you?” 

“Of course not! You know what?” she asked, leaning in. “I’m going to be your real mom now.” She said, pulling the child into a hug, which he gladly reciprocated. She didn’t stop for a long time, not until beams of moonlight shifted in from the slats of the window blinds and the fire had died to a soft, amber hue. She set the now sleeping child- no, her child- into the armchair again, and pulled a quilt over his tiny form. He shifted in his sleep, and smiled softly. 

“Sweet dreams, little one.”

10 years had passed since the evening Celia had found Luke, and she cherished every minute of it. Now a strong young man of age 17, the two could be found helping animals in the forest, planting trees, and walking along the river- when they weren’t practicing spells, brewing potions, or reading books. The older witch had finally allowed Luke to begin learning the art of magic, and he absorbed all the information like a sponge. Currently, the two were sitting in a huge clearing formed by a grove of trees, not terribly far from the village of so many years ago. The leaves of the trees rustled, but there was no wind to be felt. She was quizzing him, smirking, and holding a book in front of her.

“Quick! What is the rarest creature in this forest?”

“Unicorns,” he answered just as fast, “but some people think there might be dragons somewhere.”

“What is the most dangerous elemental magic?” 

“Ah- trick question! All of them are dangerous when used in different ways.”

“Finally- what are the three restrictions of our magic?”

“We cannot create something out of nothing, we cannot steal magic from others, and we cannot bring the dead back to life.”

Celia smiled and snapped the book shut. “I think you’re ready. Now, when I leave, the trees will look into your mind, and if they deem you worthy, they will present you with your first wand.” She stood up, and embraced her child. 

“I’m so proud of you, darling.” She stepped away and discreetly wiped her eyes as her son beamed down at her. 

“Thank you mom. Love you, wish me luck!” She smiled and stepped out of the clearing, and the invisible wind picked up. Stepping onto a faded, overgrown path, she immediately knew something was wrong. The faint scent of smoke came from the direction of the cottage, and what sounded like an army was rapidly approaching. Celia drew her own wand, and stepped into a fighting stance. Slowly, a mob of people she recognized as the villagers approached her. Each was carrying a torch, pitchfork, spear, or other weapon, and their faces looked like they were out for blood. At the front of a mob was an unruly, wild-eyed man wearing a uniform she knew came from the military. The man was followed by an equally unpleasant woman with a sneer on her face. Celia’s heart sank as she recognized the brown hair, pale eyes, and firm jaw of the people standing before her. These were Luke’s parents. 

“Witch!!” he shouted at the site of her on the path, “You evil old crone! How dare you!?! HOW DARE YOU STEAL MY SON!!!” 

Celia opened her mouth to speak, to explain the situation perhaps, but was drowned out by a horrible shout of “OPEN FIRE!!!” She raised up her wand and cast a shield charm, praying it would stop the spears and arrows, but her hands shook as she cast the spell. If only she could hold out until her son came, the ritual was not long! Perhaps they would listen to him. Perhaps-

She was interrupted by a gutteral screech coming from the soldier in front of her, and threw down her shield at the last second to dodge a blow from his sword. Sparks met metal as she tried to avoid his swings and shoot a blast at him. Tripping on a root, she fell back, but took aim and launched a spell straight into his chest knocking him backward 15 feet. 

“Mom!!” She heard a shout coming from the forest, as Luke ran over and quickly helped her up. “What is going on? What-”

“My son! Stand back from this evil witch, she stole you from us! Don’t worry though, I will end her for you.” Luke only glared at the man who was supposed to be his father. 

“Do not call me your son.” He spat icily, his voice absolutely dripping with venom. “You lost that privilege when you ran away to war and left me with her.” The woman who was his mother glared at him, but Luke was not the same scared 7 year old he once was. “Didn’t she tell you? How she used to whip me until I bled, or lock me in the cellar? Did she forget to inform you that I ran away? You…” He paused, as if searching for the right word, “You miserable, selfish, conceited bastards! You are not my parents! Never were, never will be.” 

“The person you claim to have stolen me raised me, chose to take me in when she found me. She is my mother. You are not my parents.” His ex-father’s face contorted into a cross between a grimace and a glare. 

“OPEN FIRE ON THE TWO OF THEM!!!” He shouted with the merciless bravado of a man driven insane. Celia didn’t hesitate. She ignored the mob storming back to the village after the attack, ignored the fire starting in the underbrush from a torch, ignored the whispering pleas of the sacred trees. All she saw was the scared face of her son, previously preoccupied by putting out said fire, staring ahead in horror as a spear plummeted towards his chest. She jumped in front of him and closed her eyes, bracing for the impact that would rip her life from her body, tear her away from her cherished son. 

In front of the grove of trees stands a grave, a monument of sorts for the person buried there. A statue of marble, veined with gold, stands strong and steady along the side of the path. It never decays, and many thieves have tried to steal it, but none can overcome the powerful magic keeping it there. The leaves of the trees may fall around it, as does the snow and the blossoms with the changing of the seasons, but the grave never changes. When you pass it along the forgotten path, stop and listen. The trees beacon you closer. 

“Look” the whisper in your ears, “look at the beautiful sacrifice.” “So sad,” they murmur, “The love of a mother remains strong even after death.” 

“So wasteful, that one has to die for another to live,”  

“Look.” they surround you. 

“Are you really so different?”

#writing #creative #stories #angst

[powerdragonmoon]

My Bread and Butter

While shopping at the local market, Adrien attracts some attention.

This oneshot was inspired by @ryuusadesu and some of her own venting! And of course my brain—every time I see something remotely cute, I think about how the situation would apply to the lovesquare/ML universe!!

(ao3 link)

Hope you enjoy reading!

Adrien walked down the market sidewalk, hands already slightly full of groceries he had already purchased. The morning sun lazily made its way through the slight overcast and streamed across the various overhangs and openings, making Adrien smile as he looked skywards, already noting the few breaks in the clouds.

Today was going to be a lovely day.

He shuffles some of the bags in his hands in order to glance at the list in his pocket. Just about everything on the list has been taken care of, and it’s then that a selection of baguettes at a nearby stand catches his eye.

Chatting briefly with the vendor, Adrien selects a fresh baguette, tucking it under an arm as he pays for it, nodding in thanks before continuing down the market.

As he walks, the grocery items on display are switched out for flowers, colours blooming and petals unfolding in the soft wind. Just before he really delves into the flower area of the market, a tug from the inside of his jacket gives him pause.

He looks up to see a cheese stall. Wheels of cheese piled high, samples displayed on a cutting board. A sharp smell overpowers the bouquets next door and Adrien chuckles before whispering down into his jacket.

“I already brought you Camembert,” he chuckles lowly, shaking one of the bags in his hand.

“But Adrien,” comes a voice from his jacket, “I have a very advanced palette! All cheese should be tasted!”

Sighing out a half-hearted sigh, Adrien walks over to the cheese seller, laughing at the excited wiggles in his jacket.

Once armed with another bag—this one carrying its own special scent—Adrien makes his way into the flower area of the market. Bright colours and sweet scents fill the air and Adrien pauses, wondering if he could manage carrying a bouquet all the way home, along with all the bags he already has.

He was pondering an arrangement of delicate lilacs and tulips when a sudden whistle from behind him causes him to jump.

The sound made him immediately blush on instinct. It had been years since he modelled professionally but still the attention and reaction it garnered from people left him embarrassed.

On instinct he lifts a hand up to scratch the back of his head, only to quickly realize his hand was much too full to accomplish such a task. Instead he stands up straight, masking his face with composure and finesse, as he was taught to do so.

He was an adult. He could most definitely handle himself. And besides that he was not an object to be objectified over. It had happened so many times before, a loud wolf whistle, followed by excited screams. Someone asking for a selfie or autograph…some people getting far too comfortable with touching him. At worst he would just have to politely excuse himself was all. He was fine.

Holding his head up high, and with some pink still staining his cheeks, Adrien turned around—

Only to burst out laughing at the familiar face the met.

There she stood before him, one hand cradling piles of flowers and the other holding a half-full basket. The small mischievous smile on her face bloomed as she joined him in his laughter.

“What?” She said as their laughter died down, “You are quite handsome! And all beauty should be appreciated, no?”

She stepped forward, the gentle light played across her face, causing Adrien’s smile to falter into sudden awe. The blush on his face reddens. He snaps himself out of it just as quick as she nears him. As she comes to a stop in front of him, she raises her basket in offer for Adrien to deposit the groceries into. He complies, setting down the various bags of vegetables, cheese, and fruit into the basket.

Tilting his head to the side, he stares at her. “Well, um,” he says, “I, um…thank you?”

He scratches the back of his head momentarily before remembering himself and reaching for the full basket. He grabs the handle from her taking the bulk of the groceries in hand.

She smiles up at him, and he gets distracted my the freckles on her cheeks.

Adrien clears his throat, suddenly he feels too warm. Trying to recover himself, he returns her smirk, trying to channel his alter ego. “I don’t think your husband would appreciate you wolf whistling at handsome men in public markets,” he says.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh, he appreciates it just fine” she laughs as she reaches to take the baguette from under his arm, lessening his load.

“Well…yeah” he chuckles, looking away shyly, “You’re not wrong.” Inwardly, he curses his lack of charm.

She stretches up towards him, her lips puckered and on instinct Adrien bends over slightly. His cheek meets her lips for a quick and playful kiss.

All of a sudden, a sharp smack on his behind jerks him forward. Stunned, Adrien turns. He stares at Marinette, who seems to be struggling to uphold a face of innocence. Behind her back, she holds the baguette, fresh from having struck him across the rear, like a weapon she wants to remain hidden. When she meets his wide-eyed expression, she looks ready to explode with laughter.

Trying to once again compose himself, Adrien straightens up, a sudden thought coming to his mind. He smiles.

“What,” he begins, “admiring the buns now?”

That does it. She bursts into giggles, her eyes closing tight as she shuffles the baguette into the same arm that holds the bouquet of flowers. Her now free hand covers her mouth. She nods lightly.

He smiles at her.

As her laughing subsides, she wraps her arms around the bread and flowers, the petals brushing against her face. She breathes in the fragrant smell and presses her lips together, as if she were trying to rein in any further giggles on her part.

With bright eyes she looks up at him, her own face painted light pink with blush. They stand there, a happy couple in the midst of a bustling marketplace.

She steps closer to him, a large smile breaking out across her face. In a quiet whisper, she says, “I loaf you.”

For a few long seconds, he simply stares at her. His heart is so full and he is simply overcome with happiness. Finally, the Chat Noir part of him scoffs, even as his flush reddens.

“My Lady,” he says dryly, “that’s a baguette.”

She pouts cutely at him. Her brows furrowing in mock annoyance.

“Well, it’s a bread product!” She counters.

He smiles at her. “I think you can do better. After all this time with me, you would think your pun ability would be more proficient! You’re not quite at my level of wordplay it would seem!”

She takes a step back, narrowing her eyes at him. “What?” she exclaims, “Oh please! I am just as good, if not better! Remember that time we were looking for a new couch? What was it I said…?” He chuckles. She’s rambling. “Oh! That one couch that was blue and orange! Ugh, do you remember? And I said ‘Oh! Well as long as it gives us compliments every time we sit down—’”

Laughing lightly, Adrien takes a step forward, cutting off her off with a kiss on the forehead.

She freezes. He leans back to look down at her, enjoying the blush deepening on her cheeks. She fumbles for a moment, biting her lip and looking anywhere but his face.

Finally she glances back up at him.

“Ummmmm…” she begins, and he leans back in close to catch her soft whisper. “I baguette you?”

He laughs freely as he leans down to cover her lips with his. Just before he closes the distance between them, he whispers, “I baguette you too.”

#adrienette #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #my writing #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #married au #aged up #ml #ao3 link #powerdragonmoon #longpost #^^

[mekers]

Error of his Ways

Chapter 2

After sprinting down the town's main street Frisk came up on her house. She lived with Toriel and Flowey. It was a medium sized two story house, with a nice patio and a large back yard. Toriel wanted to stay humble and keep to a small place.

She quickly pushed open through the front door and pulled her cell phone from her back pocket. She quickly tapped on the screen and went to send a message to Sans. Frisk: Hey Sans, I met someone really cool today...It's kind of funny he looks like you.

She didn't expect him to reply right away; she still had about fifteen more minutes before Sans would be on his break. She put the phone back in her pocket, and quickly kicked off her shoes and made her way into the kitchen to fix something to eat.

She spied a yellow flower at the window sill over the sink and it turned to face her.

"Welcome home Frisk.." He waved his leaves at her, and watched her pull open the fridge.

*Hello Flowey, are you hungry?* She pulled out some lunch meat, and some cheese. He nod his head, his petals slightly swaying as he did so. She set the items on the counter and went to the pantry to pull out a loaf of bread.

"You were out later than usual.. did something happen?" He stretched out his vines and pulled himself down on the counter. His pot making a light clank as he set himself down.  Frisk paused briefly but  quickly set out four slices of bread and started slapping the lunch meat on them.

"Frisk.." His voice was stern. She stopped opening the cheese slice and huffed. She set it down and turned to face him.

*I was just visiting with the Monsters in town.* It technically wasn't a lie, but not fully the truth either. She went back to opening the cheese packets and set a slice on each stack of meat, then set the bread on top. Flowey knew Frisk had been keeping to herself more often then not, and tried not to pry. They all had their secrets after all.

"What ever you say.. Frisk. Just try not to worry Tori-I mean mom.." He took the sandwich that she offered to him, and took a bite from it. It might have looked strange to anyone else. A flower eating a sandwich. She smiled also taking a bite of her sandwich..

Sans sighed while taking off his glasses to set them on his work desk. They had been working on a project to make magic the fuel for newer rocket ships. Only problem was finding out how to store large amounts of magic and creating a structure that would allow the ship to use it in bursts when needed with out running out too quickly.

"Geez.. my bones sure are tired.." He tilted his head to the side rubbing his vertebrae. "Break time.." He pushed his chair back and stood up shoving his hands in his lab coat pocket. He grabbed his cell phone and noticed he had a text from Frisk. He chuckled while tapping the screen. He had to cover his finger tips with his magic for the screen to register that he was using it.

He was just about to enter the break room when he read the message and his eye lights went out.

Kiddo: Hey Sans, I met someone really cool today...It's kind of funny he looks like you.

He re-read the message over a few times, and looked up and quickly ran over to the counter to grab a cup of coffee. His bones were rattling nervously, and he quickly poured some into a mug only spilling it slightly. He quickly blew on it then took a large gulp before going back to the message. He took a a deep breath and set the mug down before replying.

Sans: Hey kiddo, that's pretty cool.. how did he look like me exactly? The lucky devil must be swimming in the ladies.. ;P

He kind of chuckled, but quickly sighed wracking his free hand over his eye sockets. He hoped that this guy didn't look like him. Surely Gaster couldn't be back after all these years.. It wouldn't make sense.

Frisk was just finishing her sandwich when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She smiled and took it out and swiped to get to the message. She read the message and scoffed. Sans was always joking about his looks.

Frisk: Well he was a skeleton monster like you. He was different.. His bones were red, and he wore a jacket and shorts similar to you too. They were black though. He was nice.

Flowey watched her type away on her keyboard, and rolled his eyes. He knew who she was texting. She almost never texted anyone else besides Sans. "Smiley trash bag I presume?" He snickered at the name, and twitched his petals.

Frisk stuck her tongue out at him, and turned on her heel to exit the kitchen. Flowey huffed "Hey! Wait for me.. Frisk!" He called out for her, using his vines to walk himself and his pot into the living room where she was now situated on the couch.

Sans phone pinged and he hesitated before reading the message. After a few seconds the mug shattered on the floor, coffee splashing on the cabinets and tile. Sans held his phone, his bones were shaking and blue sweat was beading down the back of his school.

'It can't be.. It has to be a mistake..' He nervously replied to her, and ran out of the break room. His coat fluttering after him.

Sans: Heh well ain't that something. Guess who just got off the next few days.. maybe you can introduce me?

He ran into his office and shot Alphys an e-mail saying he had an emergency and would need to take off for the next few days and not to worry as he had plenty of sick time. The project was at a stand still anyway; so a nice break would help him to relax his mind. He shrugged off his coat, and shut down his computer and gathered his things before heading out of the office and locking it up behind him. He would simply teleport home, but he was too far away.

"Please kid.. don't do anything stupid.." He mumbled under his breath as he walked down the hallway to exit the compound.

Frisk read the message and clapped her hands together happily. It had been awhile since she had seen Sans! Flowey titled his head at her, and a small smirk graced his face. "Smiley trash bag coming home?" Frisk glared at Flowery.

*You know I don't like you calling him that!* She hesitated then smiled brightly again. She was always a ray of sunshine. And that's Ironic as he was a a bright yellow flower. *Yes though.. He's coming home! I'm so excited. It'll be nice to catch up.* She swiped down her contacts and looked at the newest addition. Error. Would he be upset if she texted him now? She chewed on the bottom of her lip her finger hovering over the message button next to his name.

"Guess the peace couldn't last forever.." Flowey remarked sarcastically under his breath. Frisk arched her brow unhappily at him and decided to ignore his comment.

She once again stared at Error's contact in her phone. 'C'mon Frisk..' She found her confidence and tapped the message button and began typing out a message to Error. Unknown Number: Hey it's Frisk.

That would be good enough for now. She sighed in relief and laid her head back against the couch. Flowey used his vines to reach for the remote control for the tv, and switched it on. "When's Toriel supposed to be home?" Flowey asked her while flipping through the channels.

She was about to sign to him, but noticed he wasn't looking and tapped him on the back of his head. He blinked for a second then chuckled under his breath and looked up at her. "Sorry.. I for get sometimes.." She frowned at him. *She should be home in the next hour. She had a meeting with Asgore..*

"Ah.. I see.." Flowey went back to watching the tv. The two of them often found themselves on the couch. Frisk would sometimes read a book, and Flowey would read the book from behind her or sleep curled up next to her.

After about an hour or so; there was the sound of the front door being unlocked and the door swinging open. "Frisk.. Flowey. I'm home my children!" Toriel walked through the door. Frisk and Flowey both waved at her from the couch.

"I have a surprise for the both of you! Look who I found hovering at our doorstep.." She covered her maw with her paw trying to hide her snickering. A familiar skeleton shuffled in shyly behind her. Frisk's face lit up immediately and she jumped up off the couch to run over to him.

He rubbed the back of his skull. "Heh, Heya Kiddo. Long time no see.. Were ya bonely without me?" He chuckled as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulling him up into a hug. His slippers falling off his feet as she lifted him into the air.

Flowey rolled his eyes. "Hello, trash bag.."

Toriel scoffed at Flowey, but quickly shut the door behind Sans, and ushered Frisk to carry him further into the living room. Frisk smiled and finally set him down in the middle of the room. He adjusted his blue jacket and coughed to clear his throat.

"Flowerpot.." He glared at Flowey but then turned his sockets back to the two women in front of him.

*Sans, how did you get here so fast? I thought you couldn't teleport from that far away. Please don't hurt yourself.*  She frowned at him and crossed her arms over her chest. Sans just shrugged his shoulders and looked at her through lidded sockets.

"I took a bus part way, and when I got close enough I just started teleporting until I got here." He said it as if it wasn't a big deal. Toriel giggled, and came up behind Frisk to rest her paws on her shoulders while gazing down at the short skeleton.

"Well, I am glad you made it safely, try not to use too much of your magic. Are you hungry? I was going to make snail pie for dinner tonight." Sans grin tightened; he didn't much care for snail pie, but he wasn't about to be rude. "Sure why not.. I'm just dying to have some." Toriel giggled, and Frisk puffed out her cheeks. "I mean c'mon, I'm all bone here.." He shoved up his jacket sleeves to show off his arms. He winked at them both, and Toriel walked off towards the kitchen still giggling under her breath.

He looked back to Frisk who seemed to have averted her gaze for the time being.

"So kid, how ya been holdin' up?" He walked over to slip his slipped back on his feet. If it's one that hadn't changed was Sans sense of fashion and comfort. His blue jacket had a few patches sewn on to it, and those pink slippers were really really ragged.

*I'm doing alright. What about you Sans? How is working at NASA? Is it everything you hoped it would be?* She motions him to come into the kitchen. He nod his skull and followed after her.

"It's everythin' and more kid. To be apart of a project that could change the way we travel to space, and possibly get us further and out there more.. It's..nnh.." Frisk looked back over her shoulder at him, and he has small blue stars in his eyes. She let out a raspy giggle and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. He stood there for a moment lost in thought, before realizing she was staring at him.

"Sorry.. didn' mean to space out on ya." He chuckled and sat down across from her, letting his gaze travel over to Toriel who was placing the pie in the oven. She pat her dress and turned to smile at him.

*How is Alphys taking to it? I know it must be hard on her relationship with Undyne.* Frisk looked sullen for a moment, before perking back up. The small clunk of a pot being moved across the floor caught Sans attention and he glared at Flowey.

"Yeah she complains a lot about long distance..They face time a lot though.. guess that 'elps." He drifts off as Flowey pulls himself up onto the table next to Frisk. Toriel hummed in response, and leaned back against the counter. "Poor dear, I can only imagine.."

Sans wanted to snort, but thought better of it. "So kiddo this friend you told me about.. what are they like?" He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Flowey looked to Frisk. She hadn't mentioned meeting a new friend. He scoffed and wiggled his leaves in annoyance.

Frisk grit her teeth, and tried to ease into the topic. Toriel seemed to brighten up at the mention of a new friend. Frisk had been so stand offish for awhile now, and anything to distract her would be a breath of fresh air. "You met a new friend my child?"

Frisk nod her head shyly and quickly signed with her hands. *He was standing in the field just at the edge of town, I had never seen anyone like him. So I approached him.* She paushed for a moment.

Sans brow bone arched. "What was he doin'?"

Frisk shrugged her shoulders, and turned up her lips in thought. *He had his hand reached out but that was about it. That was around the time I got his attention..*

Flowey titled his head and tried reading her expression. She was telling the truth from what he could feel from her. Toriel turned to check on the pie, and hummed happily when it was done. She put on an oven mitt and pulled it from the oven to set it on top on the stove. "Pie is ready!" She stated gleefully.

Frisk smiled, and was happy for a distraction. Sans hadn't stopped staring at her as she explained that they would be meeting again tomorrow. Toriel thought that it was a wonderful idea, and wondered if it was a human.

She set out plates and cut equal pieces for everyone. Sans still hadn't acknowledged the pie infront of him. "So ya say he looks like me eh?" He finally leans forward on his elbows and clasps his phalanges together. His stare was making Frisk squirm in her seat.

She nod her head and took a bite out of the pie. Flowey was using his vines to hold the fork while he ate and listened. It wasn't like Frisk to hide things from him, he wondered if this guy was bad news. Frisk was usually a good judge of character but she could be ignorant and naive to others intentions. The underground was proof of that. *Yes, he was a skeleton, but his bones were black and red..* Toriel paused at holding the fork to her mouth with her bite of pie. "A Skeleton you say?" She seemed perplexed. "My child are you sure?" Frisk shrugged and set her fork down. *That's what he looked like.. he also knew of Sans and Papyrus too.. when I asked him if he was related to you.* She was starting to feel uneasy.

Toriel pondered for a moment, and smiled, "Well there were thousands of monsters in the underground it is possible to not have known.." Sans rolled his eye lights. He knew that was a bunch of bull. Asgore and Toriel knew everyone in the underground.

*He agreed to meet me tomorrow, he seems like a nice guy.* She smiled and picked her fork back up. Sans sighed, and his expression relaxed. "Geez kid.. ready to jump his bones already?"

Toriel coughed into her paw at Sans comment and shot him a glare. Frisk stuck out her lip in a huffy pout. *Sans! I just met him!* Flowey glared at Sans as well.

Sans held up his hands in defense, "kiddn' kiddin.. geez tough crowd.." He finally picked up his fork and had to will himself to try it. He'd usually just douse anything he ate in large amounts of ketchup.  It wasn't so bad, but it could use ketchup.

"So Sans how long are you in town for?" Toriel asked a little more coldy, still slightly bothered by his previous joke. Sans chuckled and didn't bother looking at her. "Gonna be here for the next three days or so. Wanted to spend some time with my favorite human.." He winked at Frisk.

Frisk felt her cheeks turn pink, but she quickly looked down at her plate. *Would you like to come with me tomorrow to meet him?* She looked up at him apprehensively.She had always had a childhood crush on Sans since the day she met him, but over time she realized that he would never feel the same, so she never brought up her feelings and just enjoyed being friends. At times it was a bit awkward but she pressed on.

Sans shrugged and took another bite. "Nah, I wouldn't wanna be a third wheel. You have fun kid. Maybe we can hang out after?" Frisk smiled, and nod her head finishing her pie. She pushed back the chair and stood up taking her plate over to the sink. Flowey looked over at Sans, and sighed. He'd really hoped trash bag would have went.

"So what would that mean.. if he is indeed a skeleton?" Flowey finally spoke up. He wanted to know Sans opinion. Sans shrugged, his eye lights shrinking to small specks. "Not sure.. means we might have a relative we neva knew 'bout..Which would bring up a lot of questions.." Flowey's petals twitched. He could sense how unnerved he was.

"Well this has been lovely Tori. Thanks for dinner it was quite sans-sational." Toriel giggled and stood up to take his plate along with hers to the sink. "You are quite welcome, please do come back again before you head off. It was nice to see you again."

Sans smiled, and he stood up. Frisk was watching from the side of the counter. "Keep me posted kid.." He waved at her and he stuck out his tongue at Flowey before teleporting out of the kitchen. Flowey huffed and threw his fork down at the table. Frisk walked over and pat his head. He only tried to pull away. *One of these days.. I'll get you two to get along..*

Flowey looked appalled. "M-Me and Trashbag! N-Never!"

Toriel shook her head, and began to wash the dishes. "I believe it is time for bed my children. If you have an early day tomorrow, it is best to be well rested." Frisk sighed and turned to leave the kitchen to go upstairs and get ready for bed.

Frisk had quickly taken a shower and changed into a lavender night gown once finished.

She quickly picked up her phone to check to see if she had any missed messages. Sometimes not having phones at the dinner table was nice, other times it made Frisk's anxiety rise.

Her face lit up and she flopped down on her bed before swiping the message open.

Error: Didnt expct u 2 txt so soon

She frowned, she already didn't like the way he texted but pushed the thought of scolding him away. It wasn't her place. Frisk: I thought it would be best to set up a time to meet up tomorrow.

Error snickered at her reply.  "I'm pretty sure I told her same time tomorrow.." He typed away on the screen and hit send. He was already getting bored again. He had a nice nap, but it was always short lived. He waved his hand and blue strings lowered a Sans doll down to him. Then a Frisk doll. He would need to edit the Frisk doll to look like her now. This one was just her as a child.

He glared at the Sans plush and squeezed it in his hand.

Frisk face palmed, and her cheeks blushed a bright pink. He did tell her what time, man how could she be so dumb, she just wanted to strike up a conversation but now she bombed that big time!

Frisk: Right, just testing you! You passed!

Frisk hit send, and quickly regretted how she was digging her self into a deeper hole. She wasn't sure how Error would react.. she felt her cheeks burn at her embarrassment and hoped this wouldn't be brought up tomorrow.

Error read the message and ran his hand down his skull. 'She couldn't be serious?' He rolled his eye lights before replying to her.

Error: Im not a fan of pzzls.

Frisk felt her heart drop, did she make him mad? She chewed on the bottom of her lip and tried to think of something lighter. She smiled suddenly, and quickly replied to him. She pulled the covers to the side and slid in between them. She knew Flowey would be in later, he usually liked to keep Toriel company before going to bed.

Error blinked at her reply. She was asking him what he liked. Why did she care? He huffed and sat up in the hammock. "Guess I could indulge her.. a little bit. heh Heh heh."

Error: crocheting..and sewing

Frisk stared wide at his reply. She didn't think he'd be so honest! She wondered what he liked to make, her thoughts trailed off to him holding a sewing needled and patching up a pair pf pants, or maybe crocheting a blanket. She smiled to herself as she felt her eye lids get heavy.

She wondered how tomorrow would play out, and soon she drifted off to sleep before she could send a reply to him..

Error set his phone back down on his lap, he looked up, and sighed. He really needed some more color in this place..

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