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huramuna · 4 months

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beware the sapphire peak - chapter 2.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different. a crimson peak inspired mini series.

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is(it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence

once upon a december - invadable harmony • reflections - toshifumi hinata

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of high valyrian

As you passed through the threshold of the building, you looked upon the tapestries that lined the walls– they seemed to tell a story, a story of dragons, war, betrayal and succession. The woven tapestries were over eight feet tall, hanging from old iron nails that pinned them to the stone bulwark. Beyond those, were the beginnings of many, many portraits of Targaryens long passed. They were all otherworldly looking, your eyes glazing over at their perfectly captured features.

Aemond’s gentle squeeze to your hand brought you back to reality, following the line of your gaze to the portraits. “Some people have said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than people,” he smirked, chuckling softly. “When we rode dragons and conquered land and sky, perhaps. But not now– we are merely mortals once again.”

“Ah, and here I thought I married an immortal being, what a pity.” you jested, your tongue poking in your cheek.

“A pity indeed– luckily I snagged myself a Goddess, hm?” he whispered lowly, craning his head to nose at your jawline, planting little kisses upon your soft skin. He was so close to you, his scent all consuming in your nostrils as you drank in the feather light touch of his lips upon you. You were surprised that you’d made it into the building without the both of you making love on the floor like rutting animals, truly.

The sound of heels clicking pulled you both from your stupor. As you turned around, you looked upon the woman that was in the window, the real one, atleast. She was tall, a few inches shorter than Aemond, but she still towered over you– they both did– her hair was pinned in a neat half-do, the slightly wavy tresses in a gorgeous, deep brown color, like freshly brewed coffee. Her eyes, a lively emerald green, blinked slowly as she looked you up and down, assessing you. She seemed to be more mature than you and Aemond, likely by fifteen or so years. The only indication of her age were the soft gleam of one or two errant gray hairs and the lines of her face, laugh lines, crow’s feet alike, were illuminated under the flickering light in the foyer. She wore a deep green dress, a similar shade to her eyes. “Lord Targaryen, Lady Targaryen,” she greeted, her voice deep and silky– it reminded you of the timbre of a wonderful cello you’d heard in an orchestra in New York City, instantly sending your heart aflutter.

“My love, this is Alys Rivers. She is the estate’s governess,” Aemond introduced, one eye lingering upon Alys before returning to you. “She’s been with us for many years and is more than happy to help you get acquainted with the ins-and-outs of the Keep.”

You suddenly remembered your manners, hand extended out to her. “Miss Rivers, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, your hand enveloped by hers. It was a bit cold, but warmed up quickly within your own.

“And you, my lady. I’m sure we will become fast friends.” Alys responded coolly, her mouth perking into a similar grin, her thumb lingering over the back of your hand for a bit longer than necessary as she squeezed it lightly before letting go

Certainly you didn’t imagine that?

“It is good to see you again, Alys. I hope to not be away from the estate for so long again,” Aemond hummed, watching as you and the governess’ hands lingered with one another, then turning back to face you. “Shall we get settled in, my dear?” he asked. You knew exactly what he meant by settling in– and it would be the opposite of what you would be doing.

“It is good to have you back, Lord Targaryen. Let us hope you won’t need to leave again any time soon.” Alys gave a wry smile, regarding you both before curtsying and flittering away.

Aemond led you up the stairs, up to the third floor, where the master bedroom lay. The hallways narrowed as you traversed the home, with Aemond pointing out a few of the key points of the estate to you on the way. Then, he stopped at a gilded pair of double doors, the handles were beautifully complex dragons carved from a deep brown and red cedar, their eyes fashioned from jewels. It was the height of opulence– edging on gaudiness for your taste, but you married into practical royalty, so you couldn’t complain.

Opening them, it revealed a large room decorated in black and green, with the occasional splash of red and gold. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, cornered by a soft reading nook with two plush chairs. The bed was spacious, twice the size of the bed you had at home, which was a king size– you didn’t even know what to classify this size as. Monarch size? Dragon size? It was huge, that was all you knew, furnished in a soft red velvet sheet set.

You walked to the bed, fingers glazing over the silken soft sheets. “This is… the softest thing I’ve ever felt in my life, my God.” you murmured, beginning to unbutton your outer coat and shed your layers. You wished to feel the plush silk on your bare skin.

“I hope it’s to your liking, love.” Aemond came up behind you, helping you shed your unsightly amount of layers until you were in your silken shift and undergarments. His hand began to wander, bunching up the fabric of your shift and pulling it upward, until he could rest his hand on your bare stomach.

The sensation of his warm hand on your stomach made you flutter slightly, pressing back against him. “Yes, I’d say it’s quite to my liking– though, I suppose we shall put it to the test, won’t we?” you teased, your arm coming up to caress his cheek.

As your hand touched his face, his hand rose up higher and higher, exploring further. His hand found solace atop your corseted brassiere, the tiniest growls of frustration escaping from his lips. His free hand began working double time to undo the series of laces. “You won’t be needing to wear these anymore, my love,” he grumbled, biting softly on your earlobe as he continued his race to undress you. “In fact, I’d like it if you didn’t wear anything at all.”

You giggled, shimmying out of the brassiere, to which he threw aside. “I’m sure that Miss Rivers would find that garish and uncouth, Aemond. I can come to a compromise, though,” you purred, switching around to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling him towards you by the hem of his shirt.

“A compromise,” he repeated, “And what sort of compromise would that be?” Aemond asked, kneeling down in front of you now.

“Perhaps I may not wear any undergarments at all under my clothes,” you whispered, craning your neck downward as you tilted his chin upward. “For easier access.”

The sound that came from Aemond could only be categorized as animalistic and primal, his lips melding with yours in a rising fervor. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, his hand pawing at your now freed breast, thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple– eliciting a surprised gasp from you. You’d never been touched in such a way and the little spark of pain that went through you mingled with your pleasure. You liked it, conveying this to your husband by increasing the fever pitch of your kisses, mouth parted as your tongues danced together in the most lascivious of ways, as if you were trying to eat one another alive.

“What did I do,” he breathed between your assaults on each other’s mouths. “To deserve such a beautiful wife, hm?” his hand had become permanently rested on your breast, rubbing your stiffened nipple like he was trying to elicit every moan possible from you from just this alone. “A beautiful wife who makes all of the most beautiful little noises?”

You were rendered speechless, your response coming out only as a whine as he pushed you back on the bed, pulling your underwear down. He made a noise of satisfaction at what he saw, seemingly pleased with how you looked, his hand grazing through your wisps of pubic hair before parting your soaked folds. You stared down at him beneath half-lidded eyes, your body heat emanating from you like a furnace, the heights of your cheeks red with pleasure.

Aemond was continually spurred on by your state of being, like you were clay within his hands, and he was the sculptor. He nudged your legs open more, his fingers spreading you open. You whimpered as the cold air hit your core, but it was immediately replaced by a warm heat– his breath fanning over you.

“Please,” was all that could come out of your mouth as you looked at him.

His pupil was blown wide, the blue usually there eclipsed by black as he dragged his tongue over your folds, testing your taste. Humming in contentment with the taste, he went back in for another, lapping over your wet sex, the cleft of his nose rubbing against your clit. You fought the urge to close your legs out of instinct, feeling a warm sensation barrelling toward you as if you needed to relieve yourself. Your eyes were more open now in a slight panic at the feeling, but Aemond just grinned, keeping up his pace and even quickening it.

You grasped at his hair, the white-blonde strands fisted in your hand as you moaned broken strings of his name as your first orgasm washed over you, and in turn, him. You felt a rush of wetness come from your body, which was now glistening upon Aemond’s maw, his mouth still twisted into a smile, like he had just had the greatest meal of his life. He came up between your legs again, unbuckling his belt and discarding his trousers and undergarments without much ceremony– you both didn’t have time for it now, especially when you could see the weeping need coming from him, dripping at the tip of his cock.

His lips found yours again, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You didn’t consider yourself a sexual woman really, but God, if this wasn’t the epitome of eroticism– you wanted this moment seared into your brain like a brand.

“I’ll go slow, love,” he breathed, lips barely parted from yours. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

You nodded in affirmation, not capable of forming words at the moment. You hope you'll become more adept at dirty talk, just seeing how one ‘Please’ spurred your husband into action like a horse at a derby. You felt the head of his cock swipe against your soaked core, then slowly easing in. The stretch alone, the flame of pain that was just there, right on the precipice, ignited that familiar feeling within you once more. It was goddamn delicious, the feeling of being full, full of your husband– the thought made your eyes roll back in your head for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt.

The cherry on top, however, was when you finally got a glimpse of Aemond’s face– both of his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape, hair strewn mess. He was concentrating so intensely on not bursting inside of you within seconds, as your tightness squeezed him like a vice. “Fuck,” he grunted, his use of foul language sending shocks of pleasure throughout your extremities. “You’re so tight– Christ above.” Aemond began to move then, thrusting back and forth, just to focus his mind on the motions and not to bust a moment in. He murmured praises in your ear, some in English and some in another language you didn’t understand, but it was primal and ancient, you could tell just by how he sounded out the words, and it was no doubt something dirty and more than likely downright feral. “Issa gevie ābrazȳrys, sīr ȳrda, sīr vok. Ry ñuhon, ry ñuhon.” My beautiful wife, so tight, so perfect. All mine, all mine.

Judging by how he pounded into you, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, coupled with your cacophony of whines and moans, he was close, chasing his high. His pace hastened and your legs fastened around his midsection to keep him as close as possible– a reaction your body made on its own, seemingly.

A sequence of unintelligible curses and erotic sweet-nothings came from his mouth as he gave one final push– a low, reverberating grunt coming from the depths of his chest as he stilled, spending inside of you. His lips smeared against your neck, nothing coming from his mouth but hefty pants.

You both caught your breaths and he softened inside of you, then cleaned you both up after– you would’ve helped as well, but your legs were jelly, and simply refused to pick you up from the bed. Aemond was more than happy to pick you up and tuck you under the covers, holding you close to him, as if you might fly away during the night.

You dreamed of dark hallways and pale visages looking upon you– you woke up several times during the night, seeing pairs of eyes staring at you, pity in their ghastly gaze. You would fall back asleep and think nothing of it.

–

“Looking at something, dearest?” Aemond hummed, his thumb parting another page further into the book he was reading, the room illuminated in candlelight. It had been a whole fortnight since you moved into the estate– you had been able to sit down and write even more, and Aemond had helped you send off your manuscript to a reputable publisher in London, who was a family friend of the Targaryens. You began your second novel, which was inspired by Dragonstone Hall and the odd dreams you’d had as of late, laden with peering eyes and ghostly figures.

You were perched on the window seat, the silk of your nightgown clinging to you like a second skin. Moving forward, you looked down upon the courtyard and beyond, seeing the moonlit horizon painting the sea, waves ebbing and flowing like beautiful clockwork. Glancing over your shoulder to your husband, his usual harsh features softened by the gentle flicker of the bee’s wax candles. A smile crept on your lips, which in turn, caused his own to upturn into a returning grin. “Just enjoying the view of the sea.”

“‘Tis dark, my love,” he closed the book, setting it aside. “Are you an owl and I did not know it? Seeing in the dark?” he got up from his position on the bed, making his way to you.

“Perhaps I am an owl,” you giggled, “But the moon and sky are especially clear tonight– a perfect view.”

He perched his chin upon your shoulder, looking out of the window with you. “A clear sky. That must be a good omen, hm? Alys has told me that it was storming constantly while I was gone.”

“A good omen indeed,” you purred, nuzzling your nose into his neck. Out of the corner of your eye, looking down into the courtyard, you could’ve sworn you saw two men, ghastly white, walking upon the green. But when you turned your head to get another look, Aemond enveloped your lips into a kiss, pulling you back towards him, and back towards your bed. You didn’t get another glimpse at the courtyard until it was cloudy and dark once again.

No one was there.

–

“Oh, hello, Miss Rivers,” you murmur softly, your voice still hoarse with sleep. You brush a few errant curls away from your face as you go to pour yourself a cup of tea, bare feet padding upon the tiled kitchen floor. “Good morning.”

“Just Alys is fine, dear,” she smiles, her emerald eyes shining clearly– she must’ve already been wide awake for a few hours. “Please, let me.” Alys sits up from her chair, moving near you and pouring water from the kettle into your cup before you could even grab it.

You glance up at her– she was much taller than you, like Aemond– a feeling of embarrassment coming over you. “Oh– thank you,” you manage to muster, “But it… it isn’t necessary, Mis– Alys.”

The older woman looks at you with an expression of curiosity, you had said something truly novel. “Ah. You aren’t like the others, then. Good.” she smiled, the sides of her mouth crinkling. Something about it made your heart skip a beat– what was going on?

“The others?” you asked, stirring your cup which was now steeping with a fruity, floral tea bag. You scooped a heap of sticky honey from a reserve of it on the counter, preferring your tea extra sweet.

Alys watched as you stirred in the thick substance, before lifting her eyes to you. “The other– former– denizens of the estate, my lady. Lord Targaryen’s other family. Excellent employers, but they always asked for me to do things beyond my job description. Pour tea, serve lunch, draw baths." She took a seat then at the small kitchen table, but not before grabbing the entire jar of honey, putting it in the middle.

You took a seat across from her. “As a… governess, your job is to care for and educate children, correct?” you crossed one leg over the other, leaning back against the wooden backing of the chair, which was carved with intricate depictions of dragons and swords.

“Correct, my lady. Sometimes the estate was bereft of children, thus no one to care for or teach. Between you and I, sometimes the adults acted as overgrown children, demanding and grabby,” she spooned honey into her own cup, which was a dark, swirling liquid you couldn’t quite identify. “As it is now– but more so. You, Lord Targaryen, and I are the only denizens of the Keep.”

You coughed slightly as you heard her. The only ones? There were only three of you at this massive estate– and… what of the faces you saw when you arrived? The men you saw out in the courtyard just the eve before? You placed down your cup with a shaky hand. “P-pardon me,” you sputtered, hitting a hand upon your chest to try and catch your breath. “We are the only ones?” you looked at Alys with wide eyes.

“Yes, my dear. But this building is centuries upon centuries old, you know. Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Targaryen?”

You perked up at the notion, the part of your brain that loved the macabre and weird firing off on all cylinders. “Oh, yes! They interest me quite greatly.”

Alys gave a lopsided smile, her brows perked as if surprised by your reaction. “I didn’t expect such… an enthusiastic response, my lady. Most women are afraid of such ghastly notions.” she leaned forward, propping her chin on her open palm. “The estate is haunted, you know, by centuries of Targaryens past and then some.”

“Oh, you must tell me their names and stories,” you leaned forward in turn, mimicking her interest in the conversation and then some, fully enraptured by the tales of tragedy, of love long lost, betrayal and beyond.

The two of you ended up talking at the table for hours, until the sun was high in the sky to indicate noon– you only parted with her when Aemond had come into the kitchen to request your presence in the gardens. He was quite amused that you and Alys had melded together so quickly– he quoted you as ‘two barn owls, flitting feathers in the rafters and sharing stories over a juicy mouse’.

It made you giggle.

–

From that day on, your days started and ended much the same. You would be excited, giddy, like a kid on Christmas morn, to go down and talk to Alys. You didn’t quite understand why you were so excited to be around her, why she enraptured you so– it felt good to entertain her and make her laugh, much in the same vein as you felt doing similar for Aemond.

You admired her, in a way, she was such a strong woman, yet unmarried and without children. But she cited that she didn’t need them, the husband at least. She had confessed to you that she had been married before, long ago in her youth. ‘Young, dumb and in love’, she had explained it– only to find out that she was unable to have children. Your heart clenched as she told her story, how she desperately wanted children of her own and went into governess work to have some semblance of it.

In turn, you opened your heart to Alys, confiding about your mother and the struggles with losing her at such a young age. You cried and embraced her, to which she returned wholeheartedly– but she didn’t cry.

Your nights would come to a close within Aemond’s grasp, whether upon the bed, prostrated on his desk, or in the reading nook. ‘Twas a dreamy life for you.

You woke on a particularly dreary morning, over three months after your marriage, the downpour of sodden English weather clouding the skies and dampening the moods of everyone involved. Lightning struck, thunder rumbling the ground thoroughly and without mercy. When you stepped out of your bedroom, Aemond was still asleep– he had worked through the night on a massive proposal to the Lord of the next town over, working out some trade routes to have fresh fruit brought up to the estate in exchange for the homegrown honey.

Your bare feet padded on the wooden floors, they were cold and the air felt… thick and slightly electrified. It sent your head into a tizzy as you grabbed the metal knob of the washroom door, feeling a sparking jolt go through you. It shocked you! Rattled, but undeterred, you put your hand on the knob again and attempted to open it, only to be met with another tremor of electricity, stinging the palm of your hand.

“Come on,” you groaned in frustration, practically crossing your legs by how badly you needed to relieve yourself. Electroshock therapy be damned, you wouldn’t be shut out of the privy any longer. You pressed your shoulder to the door, twisting the knob as it continually pestered you with numbing sparks, then gave the door a firm push– it gave away, opening and sending you sprawling to the floor at a high velocity. You landed on your knees, face inches away from the lip of the tub; you cringed as you imagined the sight of your face smashed to a jelly, bleeding out upon the floor. Small mercies.

Pulling yourself up, you glanced over the bathtub, using it as leverage to get up. Upon looking into it, you saw something you never expected to– a woman, nude and red haired with translucent skin was curled in the bath in a fetal position, her throat slashed and bleeding red rivulets, blending into the small droplets of water that lined the tub. You were too surprised to scream, pushing yourself back from the tub and once again sprawling to the floor, mouth agape.

You were going insane– surely…

Your heart was in your throat as you eased up, glancing back into the tub. The woman was gone, the porcelain lining of the tub clean as could be.

Mayhaps Alys’ ghost stories had gotten to you, more than you thought?

Turning around to finally use the privy, you were in awe that you didn’t piss yourself, you sat down on the toilet, your head in your hands as you emptied your overly full bladder. It was silent, save for the sound of the rain pattering against the stained glass window pane, the distant rumble of thunder and… heavy breathing. You stopped your own breaths– the sound consisted. It was right in front of you.

With shaky hands slowly moving away from your eyes, you looked upon who was in front of you. It was the woman you saw in the bathtub– her neck still bleeding, her eyes wide and bloodshot, her face stained with tears and blood. Her chest rose and fell heavily with her ghastly breaths as she stared right at you. Her jaw was broken, mouth off kilter as it was agape with her labored puffs, teeth askew and rotted. You still felt like you weren’t breathing, your heart pattering like a hummingbird in your chest, about to explode.

“Who. Are. You.” she asked, voice far away and broken, like a whisper on the wind.

“L-Lady Targaryen,” you responded, your head pounding in sync with your heart– you felt like you were about to pass out.

The woman looked at you, her already wide eyes widening beyond the point they should even be able to, the sclera eclipsed in pure red, tinging on inky black ichor. Her hand, gaunt and bony, raised to you, her pointer finger pointing at you, inches away. “You,” she hissed. “You. Won’t leave this place. You. Will die. And stay here. Bones and all. Sinew and muscle, pulled from flesh.”

“W-who are you? How can I help you?” you whispered frantically, your entire body shaking.

Her mouth twisted into a sickly smile. “You. Cannot help. For I– am you. Lady Targaryen. One. Of many.”

You blinked, eyes roving to think of something to respond– but when you looked up, she was gone. The air was normal and the storm outside had quelled. It was as if nothing had happened. You sat still on the toilet, eyes open until they started to burn.

What just happened? Are you truly going mad?

You rushed downstairs after, almost tripping and falling at least twice along the way. You rushed to find Alys, who you hoped would quell your mind like the storm had been.

“Alys,” you croaked, flying into the kitchen like a bat out of hell. “Alys, Alys,” you blubbered, you weren’t sure when you started crying.

She was sitting at the table, up in an instant. “My dear, my dear, what’s happened? Are you alright?” she crooned, arms around you instantly.

“I-I… please, promise you won’t think I’m mad–”

“We are all mad in some ways, dearest. You can tell me anything.” she hummed, sitting you down on your chair and fixing your tea for you, bringing over the fresh honey, the comb still attached.

“T-there was a woman,” you breathed, your finger slicing across your neck to indicate where her bleeding wound had been. “S-she… she… she said I’m going to die?” you took your tea with a shaky hand, sipping, but it didn’t help calm you. “I-I’m a horror author, I shouldn’t be scared of this sort of thing, Alys! What is wrong with me? I’m going mad.”

“Shh, shh, dove,” she instructed, pulling her chair around the table to sit close to you, arm still around you. “Just breathe– did you get enough sleep last night?”

“Y-yes– I.. I think so,” you murmured, hands still shaking.

Alys took your hand in hers, the other going to spoon some honey from the bowl. She roved small smoothing circles over the back of your palm. “You must get more rest, dearest. I’ll make you a tea tonight, it will help,” she whispered, her mouth close to your ear as she guided the spoon of honey, comb and all, towards your mouth. “Open.”

You had to chalk it up to the storm, the nightmare or whatever you could categorize your encounter with the ghostly woman as, but you recused yourself into Alys’ touch, eyes trained taut upon her as you opened your mouth. She spooned the honey onto your tongue, pulling the utensil away with a sticky trail of saliva and honey– to which she proceeded to lick off.

Your head was swirling– you had admired Alys and thought her beautiful from the moment you saw her and you always liked women. You thought them soft and warm and could fill a certain void within you left by the death of your mother– but you had never… thought of a woman in a romantic light, surely? Your heart skipped a beat as you were so close to her, mouth parted. You could smell her light perfume, a lovely scent of vanilla and floral notes.

The same feeling of elation that you felt when Aemond caressed you, kissed you, whispered sweet nothings to you was prominent in the pit of your stomach. You could count the speckles of light hazel in her emerald eyes from your close proximity. It was unsure who closed the gap first– but your lips melded to Alys’, tasting the sweet honey on her mouth, swiping your tongue across them to gather the syrupy nectar. Her hand caressed the back of your neck so tenderly as you pressed closer together, mouths parting to envelop each other’s tongues until the tastes of both of you were one in the same– saccharine, cloying, sticky sugar.

You had forgotten who you were or where you were, only enjoying the moment with Alys, when you heard the rumble of thunder off in the distance, it broke you from your union. Panic washed over you, your face going beet red.

What had you done?

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #beware the sapphire peak #alysmond #alys rivers #alys rivers x aemond #alys rivers x reader #alys rivers x reader x aemond targaryen

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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Can Anybody See Me Part 4

Yeah...I’m sorry for the long wait on this one. I’m like a crow, I see a shiny, I go after said shiny. But I’m back to working on this one. Just a heads up tag limit is 50 and it’s been reached, so I haven’t replied to you about being on the list, that’s why. I’m sorry. I don’t know how people can do lists of 100 or more. I just can’t.

But because it took forever, this part is longer than usual. And you get Max AND Wayne.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

It was the last day before winter break and Steve still sat by himself. It wasn’t that Eddie hadn’t asked him to sit with him and his friends but Steve was resolute in keeping his distance from the Corroded Coffin boys. His reasoning was he was trying to protect them from the popular kids.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but respected his wishes. After all he had the rest of the year to wear him down.

But not today. Eddie immediately sat down when Steve did.

Steve looked around him in fear. “You can’t keep doing this, man. I don’t them to pick on you, too.” Billy had hip checked him into his locker just that morning.

Eddie grinned. “I’m immune.”

Steve’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. “No one is immune, Eds.”

Eddie leaned forward. “Their drug dealer is, especially if they want to keep buying weed.”

Steve blinked. “Oh shit. You’re the one Tommy would buy from.”

Eddie’s grin turned feral. “And if I wanted to make their lives miserable, I could get up on this table and declare you off limits and all the bullying would come to a complete standstill.”

Steve’s mouth worked but no words came. He settled for blushing and going back to digging at his food.

“But that’s not why I’m here, Harrington,” he continued, gleefully. “I was wondering what you were doing for Christmas.”

Steve’s brain went off line and it took a bit to come back on. “Um...I don’t know. My parents didn’t come home last year, just sent me a check to buy myself presents.”

Eddie winced. “Ouch.”

“If they weren’t expecting to see piles of loot around the house, I would have blown the whole thing on booze and weed.”

Eddie scoffed. “How much did they send you?”

Steve looked down at his tray, poking at his food. He licked his lips and coughed, “$375.”

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “That’s a lot.”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t want fancy cars or piles of clothes I’m only going to wear once. Instruments I’ll never play. The latest movies and the biggest TV. I don’t want any of that.” He stabbed at his food again, this time with more force.

“You want them to care enough to come home,” Eddie reasoned. “When was the last time they were home?”

Steve scratched his cheek in thought. “Before Thanksgiving.”

“But not for Thanksgiving?” Eddie asked. The picture Steve was painting was starting to look pretty fucking grim.

“I think I ordered in,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, okay, dude,” Eddie growled. “If they don’t come home, you are coming over to my place.”

Steve put down his fork. “No, man. Please. I’ll be fine.”

Eddie jumped up on the table and slid across it. He planted both feet on the bench next to Steve and clasped his hands. “It’s not okay, dude. I know.”

Steve looked up at him in shock. “I didn’t‒I mean.” He looked down at his tray again. “That sucks.”

Eddie nudged him with his foot. “So you’ll come over if they don’t come home?”

Steve nodded. “I’ll give you my phone number, if you’ll give me yours.”

Eddie grinned. “And if you pretend that they came home, I will find out. I promise that.”

Steve laughed. “Whatever you say, man.”

“Munson!” the lunch lady screamed. “Get off the table!”

Eddie grinned. “And that’s my cue.” He jumped up.

“Exit stage left?” Steve asked.

Eddie laughed. “Drama’s already got it’s hooks into you, hasn’t it?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s been fun.”

“I’ll put my number in your locker later,” Eddie said.

“And I’ll get you mine after school,” Steve replied.

Eddie walked back to his table with his friends waiting for him.

“So what did he say?” Jeff asked.

Gareth huffed. “Let me guess, skiing in Aspen or even the Alps.”

Eddie shook his head. “His parents haven’t been home since before Thanksgiving.”

“But they’ll just send him a plane ticket to wherever they are, right?” Brian asked.

Again Eddie shook his head. “Last year they sent him a check to buy his own presents.”

The three other boys looked at each other in shock.

“What? Jeff squeaked.

“That’s what he said,” Eddie huffed. “I don’t think he’d lie. Not about that.”

“That is so messed up,” Gareth grumbled. “He loses his friends to fucking Bill Hargrove, his girlfriend to Byers, and now his parents aren’t coming home for Christmas? What the hell did this dude do in a past life to get fucked up so hard in this one?”

“I don’t know,” Brian said softly.

They all looked over at Steve who was pushing his food around his tray morosely.

“We’ve got do something for him,” Jeff said. “Eddie you know him the best.”

Eddie munched on a pretzel. “I guess. It’s not very well.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Brian pleaded.

Eddie dropped the pretzel he was holding. “Actually, I think I might have an idea on how to get more information on him without letting him know we’re doing it.”

The other three shared glances.

“Watcha got?” Gareth asked leaning forward.

“I’ve got a Max.”

They all looked confused as Eddie grinned.

Eddie had called Steve a couple of times over the weekend, but he was biding his time until his opportunity opened up.

It came that Sunday when Max slipped in front of her trailer while Eddie was cleaning off Wayne’s truck so that he could get to work.

“Whoa!” Eddie called out and jogged over to her. “Hey, you okay?”

She looked down at jeans and cursed when she saw a rip in the knee. “No. Those were my favorite jeans.”

Eddie winced. “I know how that goes.” He pointed to a rip in the knee of his own jeans.

“Yeah, but you make them look cool,” she grumbled. “I’m Max.”

Eddie grinned. “Well, Max, I’m Eddie.” He jutted his head over to the trailer behind him. “I live just over there.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know.”

“Which part?” he asked with a wink.

“All of it.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Fair enough.”

“Billy buys from you,” Max muttered.

Eddie grimaced. “Ah.”

She shrugged. “I get it, really. No judgment here.”

He stood up and held out his hand to her. She looked at it as if it would turn into a serpent, but sighed, taking it anyway. She slid a couple of times but he held her steady until she was firm on her feet.

“Want some hot chocolate?” he asked jutting his thumb behind him.

She looked at her trailer and then nodded. He opened the door and let her in. “I just need to finish the truck and I’ll be right in. And don’t worry about Uncle Wayne. He doesn’t bite.”

Uncle Wayne burst out laughing from inside the trailer. “Not hard anyway.”

Max smiled and went inside.

Eddie finished clearing off the truck of snow and went inside. He found Max at the counter with a mug in front of her. She had chosen the “Fuck Off Before I’ve Had My Coffee” mug. Eddie liked her already.

He picked the Garfield mug and went to cupboard, getting out the can of cocoa mix.

“How rich do you like it?” he asked, digging out a couple of spoons from the drawer.

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I like mine super rich, like half the cup is mix rich,” he said.

Max grimaced. “Not that rich.”

Eddie laughed. “About half that, then. You can always add more if you want.”

“Sure.”

He filled their mugs and went to the fridge. He pulled out milk and added some to his mug.

“That’s weird,” she said.

“Can’t afford to buy whip cream all the time,” he explained with a shrug. “So it adds a little creaminess to it.”

She scoffed. “Still weird.”

“Don’t knock until you try it.”

Just then the kettle went off and he filled their mugs with hot water.

“What grade are you in?” he asked after taking a sip.

She leaned over the counter. “How come yours is frothy and mine isn’t?”

Eddie grinned. “Should have had that milk, kid.”

Max thumped back into her seat. “I didn’t know it could do that.”

“Next cup,” he promised.

“You’re on,” she murmured.

“Still haven’t answered the question,” he said smiling over his mug.

“What are you the cops?” Max grumbled.

“I think it’s pretty obvious I’m not,” Eddie said with a chuckle.

She cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, I guess. Eighth.”

“You like it here?” he asked.

She scoffed. “No.”

Eddie laughed. “I hear that.”

Max frowned. “Weren’t you like, born here?”

“Oh hell, no,” Eddie said after drinking from his mug. “Moved out here when I nine or ten.”

Wayne came out of the bathroom, tucking his shirt into his pants. “You were nine. It was just before your birthday.”

Eddie grinned. “There you go. I can never remember if it was before or after.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Wayne said with a chuckle. “You came to me with a concussion.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Best day ever, though.”

Wayne just shook his head. He grabbed his coat and gave Eddie a kiss on the cheek. “Be sure to lock up if you go anywhere.”

“Waaaayyynnne,” Eddie whined. “I’m nineteen! I’ve got this figured out.”

Wayne just raised an eyebrow before waving goodbye to them both.

Eddie looked over at Max who was glaring at him. “I thought you were in Steve’s class.”

Eddie grimaced. “Yeah...about that.”

She raised both her eyebrows.

“I didn’t graduate last year when I was supposed to,” he explained. “So they’re making me do a do-over.”

“You suck,” she said and went back to her cocoa.

“How do you know Steve?” Eddie asked leaning on the counter. “Like you said, he’s in my classes. You, however are an enigma.”

She shrugged. “He saved my life from a pack of rabid junkyard dogs.”

Eddie blinked. “Come again?”

Again she shrugged. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

Eddie raised his hands. “Okay then.”

She wrapped both hands around the cooling mug. “He talks about you a lot.”

Eddie frowned. “Yeah, what’s he say?” He wrapped his arms around his waist.

“That you’re too good for your own good,” she said.

“That was not what I was expecting, I was honest,” he murmured, shoving his hair into mouth.

Max reared her head back. “Why?”

“You’re new so you probably haven’t heard,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but they call me ‘The Freak’. I’ve tried to turn it into a positive, but it still stings.”

Again she shrugged. “I’ve heard Steve used to be an asshole. But I have yet to see it, so...”

Eddie set his mug down and hopped up on the counter. “He keeps trying to protect me, it’s a little disconcerting to be honest.”

Max laughed. “That’s Steve for you. It’s like an honest to god superhero.”

Eddie hunched his shoulders up around his ears. “I’m older than he is. I really don’t need his protection.”

She huffed out a breath. “You’re going to just have to deal with it.”

“I’m starting to get that,” he said. “But I’m going to wear him down and befriend the asshole if it takes until graduation.”

She shook her head. “Good luck. Usually it takes trauma for people to break to down his unusually high walls.”

“And you know all about those high walls, wouldn’t you?” Eddie said with a sly smile.

“It’s safer.” She paused for a moment. “But it would be good for Steve to have friends his own age that don’t include his ex and her new boyfriend.”

He winced. “Tell me about it. He spends time with them, but I can tell it hurts to do so.”

“I could help,” she murmured. “I could tell you what his interests and hobbies are.”

“You’re on.”

Eddie grinned. That worked better than planned.

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tag List: @the-redthread @howincrediblysapphicofyou @lovelyscot @dangdirtydemons @jaywhohasthegay @whimsicalwitchm @xjessicafaithx @cr0w-culture @kohlraedirectioner @jinxjinn @be-the-spark-bitch @chasinggeese @reportinglivefromsoda @bookbinderbitch @awkwardgravity1 @shucks-yuckyuck @stevesbipanic @phantypurple @huniibee @ashwinmeird @justforthedead89 @emly03 @evix-syne666 @renaissan-vvitch @deadlydodos @scarletzgo @messrs-weasley @kodaik97 @thedragonsaunt @butterflysandpeppermint @gregre369 @nelotegreitic @sundead @artiststarme @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @thing-a-ling @anaibis @garden-of-gay @matchingbatbites @spectrum-spectre @winterbuckwild @steve-the-hairrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @babyblender @cursedfoxteeth @novelnovella @throwbackthrowaway @strangersteddierthings @shrimply-a-menace

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

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fruitcoops · 7 months

Note

So I was just watching Matty Healy’s “celebrity school run” interview from BCC Radio One, and my mind jumped right to imagining Sirius with a couple awestruck hockey kids in the back of his truck, navigating questions as he drives them around (maybe to hockey practice instead of school??)! Congrats on finishing finals!! <3

Fic O'Ween Day 9: Sugar Rush! Cap credit to @lumosinlove and fest credit to @noots-fic-fests <3 Cutie patootie start to the weekend!

“Ask him!”

“I don’t wanna ask. You do it.”

“Everything alright back there?”

A small boy in a blue shirt dropped an elbow into the side of his, equally small yet significantly blonder, companion. “How does the internet work?” the blond boy blurted.

In the front seat, Sirius Black frowned at the road. “Quoi?”

“I told you it was a dumb question!” a redheaded little girl whispered across the seat.

“The internet,” the blond boy repeated, twisting the pocket of his cargo shorts into a nub in his fist. “How’s it work?”

“Uh…”

“My mom said the government tells you on your first adult birthday,” the dark-haired boy informed him as he leaned forward onto the console. “So you’ve gotta know, ‘cause you’re totally an adult.”

“Your mother is right, Ethan,” Sirius agreed. His eyes darted to the small camera stuck on the car’s dashboard. “That’s—yes, you’ll have to wait until you’re eighteen to find out. I can’t tell you. It would be illegal.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “But you’re Canadian, so American laws don’t apply to you.”

“It’s international.” Suburban homes rolled past outside, surrounded by fresh spring foliage. “The UN decided on that rule.”

“Aw, man.”

“Are you really getting married?” the redheaded girl piped up.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Summer.”

“But when?”

“Summer,” Sirius repeated with a laugh.

“What day?” She poked her head between the front seats as well, bumping shoulders with Ethan. “Can we come?”

“Definitely not. Both of you, sit back, you’re going to get hurt.” Sirius glanced into the rearview mirror as he turned onto another narrow street. “Look at Jacob. He’s doing it right.”

Jacob preened, shooting each of his companions a Cheshire grin. “Lydia said you’re getting married to your boyfriend. Is that true?”

“Fiance, but yes.” Sirius reached back to shoo Lydia and Ethan back into their seats, one hand on the wheel. “Why do you know so much about my wedding? Aren’t you supposed to ask me hockey questions?”

“We have time. School doesn’t start for an hour.” Lydia folded her hands in her lap and squinted to look out at the road. “Also, my sister plays hockey and she was telling me that her team was telling her that you're gonna be the first married hockey player ever.”

“That’s…that’s not true.”

“Of course it is.”

“There are so many married hockey players!” Sirius laughed.

“Oh yeah?” Jacob challenged. “Who?”

“James Potter, Pascal Dumais, Sergei Ivanov, Adam Fox, Mika Zibanejad, Brad Marchand—I think most NHL players are married, actually.”

“Is the Earth actually round, or is the government lying?” Ethan asked, picking at the back of Sirius’ seat.

Sirius pressed his lips together for a moment. “Ah,” he began, coughing through a laugh. “Nope, it’s definitely round. People have known that for a long time.”

“My uncle says the government lies a lot.”

“Well, my uncle works for the government,” Jacob scoffed.

“Well—”

“Why is the Earth round?” Lydia butted in. “I think you’re lying. If it was round, everything in Australia would be upside down.”

“Oh god,” Sirius muttered. “Okay, new rule: no flat Earth discussions in the car.”

“Cause you’re lying?”

“Cause Galileo is spinning in his grave.”

“Isn’t that the bird from the movie with the girl and the volcano and the lizard and Russell Crowe and that one lady?”

Jacob gasped and turned to her. “My mom loves Russell Crowe! Y’know, Mr. Sirius Black, you kinda look like Russell Crowe.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“He kinda does,” Ethan admitted.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh—”

“Okay,” Sirius announced as he paused at a stoplight with a thousand-yard stare. “We’re not doing any ‘nuh-uh’s until you are safely at school. Do you act like this when your parents are driving?”

All three children stared at him from the backseat. For a singular second, their fidgeting paused. “Like what?” Lydia asked, clearly bewildered. “The lady with the camera told us to ask you questions.”

Sirius seemed to process that for a beat. His fingertips drummed on the steering wheel while they waited for the light to change. “I’m starting to realize I don’t spend enough time with kids to know how you’re supposed to act.”

“Isn’t your brother a million years younger than you?”

“Six years.”

Lydia gave him a skeptical look over her glasses. “I’m only eight, so that’s basically forever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“How come clouds have different shapes?” Ethan asked. “Is it because birds fly through them and turn them all thin after they’re fluffy?”

“No, the wind does that.”

“Why?”

“It’s the wind, it doesn’t have reasons.”

“How do you know.”

“Because I’m an adult. Hey, look, a pigeon.”

All three children lunged toward the window, straining at their seatbelts and booster seats. Sirius glanced at the dashcam with a small, pleased smile and made a smooth left turn onto Main Street. “Where is it?” Jacob asked eagerly. “Was it big? What color was it? I don’t see it.”

“Oh, I think it was in the parking lot back there,” Sirius said casually. “Keep an eye out, see if there are more.”

“I’m never allowed to ask adults this many questions,” Lydia gushed, swinging her feet above the floor of the car. “Do you pay taxes?”

“Yes.”

“How do they work?”

“Good question. I have no idea.”

Ethan, apparently tired of pigeon-spotting, sat up straight and began peeling a sticker off the side of his booster. “Do you speak French?”

“Ouais.”

“Can you say something in French?”

“Ouais,” Sirius repeated with a grin.

“Please?”

“I just did.”

“Way,” Ethan mimicked. “Ha! That sounds like a duck. Wah-wah-wah-wah—”

“Yellow punch buggy.”

A flurry of movement and stifled ‘ow’s followed on swift wings; Sirius winced, but didn’t seem particularly regretful. “So,” he tried again. “What do you guys like to do at school?”

“Have lunch.”

“Read.”

“Recess.”

He nodded with a light laugh. “You know what, that’s fair.”

Jacob cocked his head to the side. “Did you like school?”

“I loved school.”

“What was your favorite subject?”

“Math.” A simultaneous false gag from three different mouths made him jump slightly, glancing over his shoulder. “Jesus—”

“I hate math,” Lydia declared. “We started multiplication and it makes my head hurt.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Ethan’s nose wrinkled. “I like math, but it’s definitely not my favorite. Hey, do you have tattoos?”

“No.”

“Can we see them?”

Sirius’ brow knit. “I just told you I don’t have any.”

“You’re a hockey player, you gotta have tattoos. Thomas Walker has them, Cole Reyes has them, James Potter has them…”

“James doesn’t have tattoos,” Sirius snorted. “Where are you getting your information?”

“My brother. He knows everything.”

“How old is he?”

“Eleven.”

Sirius nodded slowly, biting the inside of his cheek. “A wise age.”

“How many teeth are you missing?”

“None, dude,” Jacob interrupted. “Didn’t you see earlier? He has perfect teeth. Hey, Mr. Sirius Black, did you have braces?”

“No.”

“Your teeth just grew like that?”

“Mhmm.”

“I just lost a tooth last week.”

Sirius stopped at the corner, looking over his shoulder at them. “Oh, really? Your first?”

“Nah, my fifth,” Jacob answered, as jaded as a third-grader could get. “It’s boring now. I got a quarter for it, though. My sister wanted to tie it to a doorknob, but my dad didn’t let her.”

Lydia nodded solemnly. “My cousin lost her first tooth when a piñata hit her.”

“I lost mine while I was eating a tuna sandwich,” Ethan added. “Then it was a blood sandwich. It was crazy.”

“Gross,” Lydia said with great approval.

Apparently satisfied with the direction the conversation had gone, the car remained near-silent for almost fifteen seconds. They headed past several gas stations (and their pigeon-filled parking lots) before stopping once again at a red light.

Ethan let out a loud gasp. “Tim Hortons!”

Sirius turned as if on instinct, craning his neck, before he seemed to realize the danger of the situation. Lydia slapped at the back of the driver’s seat with an excited hand, bouncing in her booster. “We gotta go, we gotta go, we gotta go.”

To his credit, Sirius spared a half-second to consider it. “Absolutely not.”

To his demise, Sirius spared a half-second to consider it. They fell on him like miniature wolves to a downed caribou.

“Please,” Ethan begged. “Please, please, their hot cocoa is so good, you don’t understand.”

“I’m Canadian, I understand better than you do.”

“Then we have to go!”

“There is no world where I get three kids on a Tim Horton’s sugar rush before school.” He shook his head and began turning off Main Street. “Not in this lifetime. Your teachers would hunt me for sport.”

“You’re Canadian! You’re—you’re Queb—” Ethan made a frustrated noise and turned to Jacob. “What’s the word for Quebec people?”

“…Canadians…?”

“Quebecois,” Sirius informed him. His eyes widened slightly. “Wow, is that the first question you’ve asked that I can actually answer?”

“You’re Quebecois,” Ethan continued, stumbling over each syllable. He made it there in the end, but not before everyone else in the car made a pained face. “That means you have to take us to Tim Horton’s.”

“No.”

Lydia’s eyes were fever-bright in the backseat, as if she had knocked back a handful of jellybeans and Red Bull. “Timmy’s, Timmy’s, Timmy’s…”

“Please, no.”

Jacob and Ethan brightened immediately, because of course they did. Sirius watched the road in mournful disbelief, like he was driving into his personal hell with no exit ramp in sight. “TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S—”

“I’ve never having children.”

“TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S, TIMMY’S—”

The shouting came to an abrupt halt. Sirius parked the car under the shade of a large oak tree and waited for several seconds, until all three kids started to exchange wary looks. The silence dragged on. Polyester and cotton rustled.

Sirius rested his elbow on the console and turned to the backseat, one eyebrow raised. “Are we done?”

“Are you gonna turn this car around?” Jacob whispered in quiet horror.

“Non. I have a deal for you, though.” Instant curiosity overcame their concern. Sirius held three fingers up. “One: don’t kick the back of my seat. Two: don’t yell in my car, it’s very distracting. Three: Count five pigeons by the time we get to school. I will ask your parents if I can bring you Timbits—”

Gasps of delight filled the car.

“—if you promise to do all three of those things.”

Jacob tucked his hands under his legs, all but vibrating with anticipation. “Can you get cinnamon ones?”

“Can you find five pigeons?”

“Of course I can,” he whispered.

Sirius nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Do you make a million bajillion dollars?” Lydia asked.

“Non. But I do have money for Timbits for nice kids who ask cool questions.”

Ethan’s mouth fell open. “We’re nice kids who ask cool questions!”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius gave a teasing hum. “I don’t know. Think you can prove it in the next five minutes?”

“What kind of dog do you have?” Lydia asked without hesitation.

“Oh, that is a good question.” The car rumbled to life, and they pulled onto the road without issue. “I don’t know. She’s black, and she has pointy ears.”

“How long do you want to play hockey?”

“Oof. A while. Maybe ten more years? We’ll see.”

Ethan finished peeling the sticker off his booster seat and reached over Lydia to stick it on Jacob’s. “Is being an adult fun?”

“Yes.”

“Is it hard?”

“Yes.”

“If you could get in a time machine and be eight again, would you do it?”

“No.”

Jacob frowned. “How come?”

“Because I like being able to make my own dinner, I would miss my friends, and I wouldn’t be able to get Tim Horton’s whenever I want to.”

Lydia started to kick the back of his seat in boredom, but quickly tucked her foot behind her other leg. “If you were eight and went to our school, do you think we would be friends?”

Sirius smiled, moving slowly past a wire fence. “Sure.”

“Can you say more French stuff?”

“Comme quoi?”

“Um—can you say ‘hello’?”

“Bonjour.”

Jacob chewed on his lower lip. “Can you say…this school is super cool?”

“Cette école est très cool.”

“Is ‘cool’ the same in both?”

“Ouais.”

“Okay, stop, stop, you gotta do English now,” Ethan said hurriedly, waving his hands. “I don’t speak French.”

“That’s okay, you can learn,” Sirius laughed. They rolled to a stop in a mostly-empty section of the parking lot; he waved to someone outside, and the children quickly followed suit. He propped his arm on the console again and raised his eyebrows. “I think your parents are ready to have you back. Any last questions?”

“Do you like books?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“What kind of Timbits do you like?’

“Have you been playing hockey since before we were born?”

“How does electricity work?”

“Do you kiss your boyfriend? Oh, yeah, how do cars work?”

“How come the sky changes colors but the ocean doesn’t?”

Sirius didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, blue, all of them, yes, I think it’s something with electrons and metal? Yes, engines and combustion, and because the sky and the ocean are made of different things.”

“Okay,” Jacob said with a decisive nod. “Cool! Thanks!”

“Thank you, this was lots of fun.” Sirius unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car, then came around and opened the backseat door for them. They spilled out in a pile, each meeting his gentle fist-bump with incredible enthusiasm that only grew when he feigned injury at the strength of their hands. Their booster seats came free with little finagling. “Alright, go see your parents. I can carry these.”

“Wait!” Lydia yelped, turning on her heel halfway through a step. “What about the Timbits?”

“Nobody kicked my seat or yelled,” Sirius mused, gathering the boosters in his arms. “Pigeons?”

“Two on the sidewalk, one in the parking lot, and two at the Gas ‘n Sip,” Jacob announced.

“Then they’ll be here when you get out of school,” he promised. They shook on it, tiny hands dwarfed by his palm, before they were off at a sprint once more. “Be safe! Don’t trip on the concrete!”

#sirius black #ocs #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #lumosinlove #fluff #lion pride #celebrity school run #fic o’ween 2023

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modelbus · 2 years

Text

Someone requested a romantic Tommyinnit x reader at a haunted house, but I accidentally deleted it, so here!

Pairing: CC!Tommyinnit x Gn!Reader (romantic)

Haunted Hause

"I'm scared."

Tommy mumbles it into your ear, pretty much wrapped around you. It's like he's hiding behind you with the way his arms loop around your waist and his head is laid down on your shoulder.

"I'm going in with you." You remind him. "It'll be fine."

You're staring at the scariest haunted house in all of Britain. Wilbur and George had to pre-buy tickets for it, that's how in demand they are.

The problem was that Tommy, to be short, didn't do well with horror. Neither did you, but you knew you had to be here so he didn't chicken out.

"Come on lovebirds! Let's go!" Wilbur yells.

"Tommy." You say, smile evident in your voice.

He takes a deep breath before standing up with his persona on.

"Right. I am scared of nothing, ever."

"Of course not." You respond easily.

You head inside, Wilbur poking fun at Tommy the entire way. Somehow the two adults didn't seem scared at all.

"You two go first." Wilbur says, grabbing you and shoving you in front with Tommy.

Immediately he grips your hand tightly. The anticipation was definitely affecting the both of you.

"YouTubers, huh?" The ticket lady asks when you show the digital tickets. "Well, good luck."

"Wilbur, hold my hand." George says.

"Of course, George. Anything for you George."

While following the line, not even in the true haunted house yet, it gets darker. There's a clear transition between the ticket area and the haunted house, light purple wallpaper transitioning to concrete.

Concrete that was smudged a suspicious red.

"Who do we have here?!" Someone crows on the other side of the barrier.

They're dressed like a scientist but with smudges of blood all over them. Honestly, they look like an experiment went wrong. Of course the haunted house would have good costumes.

"Two couples?" He asks, eyeing them. "The others will be so pleased by this..." He continues down the line, making taunts to others.

Behind you and Tommy, George and Wilbur laugh.

"Did he just mistake George and Wil for a couple?" Tommy asks you.

"I think so." You laugh, throwing a glance at the duo behind you. "You're such a cute couple guys!"

"Thanks!" Wilbur exclaims.

"Cheating on Dream already, George?" Tommy teases.

You relaxe a little at Tommy's nerves rescinding, happy to bounce off his teasing.

"Who's gonna tell him?"

"Wilbur's Gogy's boyfriend now, he should do it."

"All of you shut up." George grumps, making you all laugh again.

The bantering passed enough time to reach the front of line, where everyone quiets down a little. Even Wilbur, who you knew loved going to haunted houses, seemed a little nervous. Guess that's what happens when you go to the scariest haunted house in all of Britain.

"Two couples... yes... I can work with this..." The lady scientist says, and Tommy's back to gripping your hand tightly. "One couple in that elevator, the other in the second!" She suddenly yells. "Go! Go!"

You and Tommy don't hesitate to speed walk into the first elevator.

"What the fuck?" He asks. "I didn't realize we'd be separated."

"Good thing you and Wilbur are recording." You say, nodding to the camera he had to strap to his chest.

"I don't like it."

"I'm sure-"

You get cut off by the lady standing right outside the elevator that you had entered.

"The other scientists are going to love you two! Try not to die like the last ones, alright? Bon voyage!"

The door slides shut, leaving you both in complete darkness. After a second the elevator starts to shake, getting more and more violent while an alarm sounds.

"Run!" A voice screams. "They got out!"

"Containment breach. Container A, B, and C have been unlocked." A robotic voice reads out, monotone.

"Oh God, it's coming for us! Doctor Banner, take the research and run!" The first voice screams.

"What about the new subjects? Subjects 1 and 2 are headed into the containment sector while 3 and 4 are going to the lab!" A woman asks.

"Leave them! If we want to get out of here alive, we need to go now!"

The voices stop along with the shaking, that horrible alarm still sounding.

"I am not scared." Tommy announces.

The death grip he has on your hand says otherwise, but you don't call him out on it.

"Holy shit." You breathe.

The door slides open, making you both jump.

"You first." Tommy pushes you slightly.

"Fuck no, I came here willingly for you. You're going first."

"Please. Please!"

Goddammit.

Slowly, you take the first step out.

From there it's a shitshow. Constant jump scares, but a really good story. All of the costumes and scenery are really engaging, especially when there's little audio clips. It's really well put together in a completely terrifying way.

At one point an actor jumps out unexpectedly, causing you to flinch and cling onto Tommy's arm. He just clings back, scared beyond belief.

After what feels like forever, you meet George and Wilbur in some type of lobby. While you and Tommy came from one set of doors, they came from the other. George looks downright terrified while Wilbur looks nonchalant.

"I guess we just leave, right? Then we've escaped?" Tommy asks, motioning to the door with his free hand.

"Not so fast." Someone says from behind.

You all turn around to face what looks to be a zombie, blood dripping from his mouth. He stumbles closer, a crazy grin on his face.

"You're not one of us, are you? Not yet. Those scientists never got their hands on you... but I will."

He leaps forward, sending the group back a few steps in fear. The zombie doesn't stop advancing, grabbing your arm quite gently.

Right, you signed some contract saying they could grab you.

You allow yourself to be taken away from Tommy, his eyes going wide as your hands disconnect. If you really wanted to, you could get away. The zombie's grip on you was barely there, just enough to suggest the idea of taking a few steps backwards. Either way, you're scared and take the steps.

A flash of light fills the room, and the guy holding you lets go and vanishes.

"Are you alright?" A woman asks. She's dressed as a scientist, even more battered, bruised, and bloodied than the ones you had seen previously. Well, the living ones. "Damn zombies... get out of here while you still can. I can't leave until I get the research I need."

Then, she runs through the door you and Tommy had come out of.

Tommy wastes no time before grabbing you and forcing everyone out of the haunted house.

The sunlight hits your faces, a stark contrast from the dimly lit haunted house. You breathe in the fresh air for a moment, letting your eyes fall shut. Never again.

"I am going to kill you, Wilbur." Tommy chokes out, and your eyes open again.

"And that's my cue to get the car." He says, wisely sprinting to the parking lot.

"Tommy, that's the last time I let you drag me into something without telling me what it is first." George says passionately. "I saw things I don't ever want to see again. I'm going to the bathroom." Then, after a second, "It'll be a good vlog."

The second that they're gone, Tommy pulls you into a tight hug.

"Toms, you're shaking." You point out, hugging him back.

"The zombie took you."

Oh, fuck. To him it must've seemed like the actor had ripped you away from him.

"He was barely holding me, I'm okay." You reassure him. "I let go of you and stepped back out of my own free will."

"I didn't like it." He says bluntly, but at least he's stopped shaking. "I didn't like any of that fucking haunted house."

"Neither did I." You admit.

Suddenly, he pulls away with a smirk. "I deserve a kiss."

"What?" Startled, you laugh.

"You scared me, and now I deserve a kiss."

With a stupid smile, you lean up and kiss him.

"WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO SEE YOU TWO BEING STUPIDLY IN LOVE?!" Wilbur yells, pulling the car up. "I HATE IT."

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #dsmp #mcyt #tommyinnit mcyt #mcyt imagine #tommyinit dsmp

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blackbutler-mylove · 7 months

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Hello! I love seeing the Black Butler fandom come back from the grave and I feel like it will stay alive for a while until 2024. Unlike the time Queen Elizabeth died and brought it back to life for a few weeks.

Anyways, I have a Ciel x reader. Basically it’s Ciel with a reader that’s gets called “Lady of the Night” because of her dark and mysterious appearance that represents the night. She talks like she’s a character from Edger Allen Poe’s poems and looks like she came straight out of a Tim Burton film. It can be hc of Ciel before he made the reader his s/o and after. Or it can be a oneshot. It’s up to you!

Thank you and have a good day!

Thank you so much!

This headcanon takes place before the « big reveal » ;)

Ciel his still his canon age and reader is 14! (So a one year gap)

°Ciel met you during a very boring reception between the heads of some of most important brands in England. Tea, silks, furniture, land, cattle and well, his toy company.

°Small talk is something ciel is very good at, but absolutely despises. That’s why after his usual tactical greetings, he decided to just sit by a table with a small glass of champagne, Sebastian standing by his side.

°The only thing slightly amusing to do was to watch the other nobles go about their empty conversations.

°That’s where your father comes in. He’s been widowed for seven years, and was at the head of a very important jewelry and ornaments company. Ciel knew that he decided very early on to include the input of his young daughter in his commercial decisions, but the daughter in question was rarely seen.

°Ciel never met you, despite his numerous interactions with your father. Well, until tonight.

°He saw you walking at your father’s side, wearing a very deep and dark plum colored dress. Wearing an array of silver jewelry from your family’s company and striking eye makeup, that made your eyelids look like they were adorned with lace. An odd way for a lady to present herself…

°Ciel got up from his seat and got closer to the small circle that formed around you two, made by very intrigued nobles looking to poke and prod at you with their questions.

°As he greeted your father for the first time this evening, he noticed you were completely unbothered by the indiscreet questions thrown your way, answering with as much bluntness and a whimsy tone.

° « Pray tell my dear, have you found yourself a betrothed yet? » « It is not one of my priorities. »

°Here’s something he always dreamed of saying… He went to greet you and kissed your hand, but before he could say anything you perked up: « You have the most beautiful eye, my lord. »

°Sebastian chuckled under his breath as he saw his lord lose his composure.

°For the rest of the evening, you and Ciel sat down as you talked, and you even showed him the small sketchbook you carried around to draw down your ideas for new jewelry.

°You even started to draw a small portrait of him with a certain crow perched on his shoulder, which he didn’t even notice as he was hanging on each word you said. When he asked about the bird, you replied that « Sebastian made me think of one, it is a simple artistic liberty. Crows are very intelligent animals. »

°When you had to return home, you gifted him the portrait. « We will need to meet again soon, lord Phantomhive. You are truly an inspiration. » You said with a shier tone.

°He was blushing each time he thought of you on his ride back to the manor, and he would be caught dead before anyone knew he smiled while he was in bed that night. Much to Sebastian’s amusement.

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

I wrote about how they met! I can image that they kept meeting up after that, and the "lady of the night" might have gotten herself into a lot of the phantomhive's shenanigans!

#black butler #black butler x reader #ciel phantomhive

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the-everqueen · 4 months

Text

sneak peak of LA guard dog pt. 2 because i find it amusing that Coco reliably hits on milfs:

“Sure thing.” The Corinthian hands her the car keys while she jams her feet into sneakers. “Don’t worry, Rosebud, we can hold down the fort.” She laughs, bounces on her toes to kiss his cheek. Then she’s gone, and the house is quiet. Well, except for the dog. It scratches at the front door and looks up at him hopefully. Corinthian curls his lip at it, but the dog is too far removed from its more capable ancestors to read that as a threat, and it waggles its hips in response. Play? Out? It gives a thready whine. Need. He snags the leash from its hook by the door. The dog pisses as soon as its paws touch the scrubby front lawn, so Rose’s intuition was correct on that front. The Corinthian is tempted to just take the animal back inside, except then it darts after a crow with a surprisingly loud bark and, well, those are the kinds of instincts that should be encouraged. Of course, the crow takes flight, but the dog isn’t discouraged, just turns its nose to the ground and starts sniffing for new prey. The Corinthian follows behind at a leisurely pace. “Billie,” as Rose keeps reminding him, “she has a name,” except it doesn’t have legs, not really—Billie trots with single-minded focus. Its long sausage body is good for poking into gopher holes and under bushes. It’d be useful for ferreting out rats or foxes, if either of those were a problem here. As is, it manages to snag a half-empty package of fries and hork down a couple before the Corinthian can wrestle the bag away. “Puppies keep you on your toes,” says a raspy voice. The Corinthian turns. Gives a little wave. “Hey, Mrs. Moreno. You do something new with your hair? It’s looking good.” “Psh. Flatterer.” But the older woman pats at her curls, framed with a colorful headband. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Jackie?” She did, when he first encountered her during his initial scope of the neighborhood. He hasn’t taken her up on it, mostly because her greenish eyes sparkle whenever he drawls her surname or calls her “ma’am.” Jacqueline has the voice of someone who started smoking as a teenager and hasn’t stopped despite her doctor’s best efforts. She sits on her porch at odd hours but always spares a friendly word for Rose. If the Corinthian were hunting her, he’d take her out to Employees Only for drinks and K-town for karaoke. He imagines those honey-flecked irises taste like an appletini. His smile widens. “Now where would a Southern gentleman be without his manners?” Jacqueline’s gaze travels slow and deliberate over his body. “Mm, I’m sure you’d get by.” “Yeah?” She waves a hand at him. “I’m not gonna stroke your vanity unless you stroke something of mine—and I know you belong to that sweet Walker girl. Is that her dog? Doesn’t seem your type.” “What’s my type?” Her grin is all teeth. “Some kinda hound.” She clucks at the dog and it, idiot creature, runs straight for her, tail wagging. “What’s her name?” “Billie.” “Lady Day. I’m more of a Vaughn girl, don’t tell your friend. Though I’ve got some records if she ever wants to listen.” “I’ll let her know.” The Corinthian watches as the dog wriggles with joy at her attention. Jacqueline laughs at its antics, flops its velvet ears between her fingers. The lines at the corners of her eyes crinkle. “Her mom was a big Holiday fan, apparently.” He’s not sure what makes him offer this tidbit. Maybe the hope that a human will know what it means, clue him in to its significance. But Jacqueline just hums, moves her hand to rub the dog’s belly as it rolls onto its back. Her acrylic nails scritch gentle, gentle on that exposed flesh in a way that makes the Corinthian’s eye teeth ache.

#la guard dog #my fic #i'm imagining Jacqueline as like. Rosie Perez or Cecia Cruz.#lil old lady perm with insane highlights. nails to strip the skin off god.#a secret stash of edibles and cuban cigars #sandman #sandman fic

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wolfofwinchester · 5 months

Text

@casketdweller (beloved) asked: For Claudia to find tucked in among the gifts for the children, was a stuffed toy of her own. Shaped in the form of Gelert, There was a blue-green ribbon tied around its neck. There was obviously no, indication who left it for her, but it had her named written in that familiar script on the tag lovingly attached to the ribbon.

It was the boy that found it first, somewhere among the rain of paper and ribbon, and bounding black hounds chasing hollow wooden balls tossed by giggling maids. It was cleverly hidden, Vincent thought to himself, tucked behind the biggest boxes beneath the branches of the pungent tree (one's nose would clear right up if got too close!). The little canine was carefully retrieved and given an eyeballing, and the name tag, after a moment, earned something of a sly and smug grin.

Poke. Francis's new wooden sword jabbed Vincent right in the shoulder, earning a playful and muted 'ooow' as he drew a hand to clasp the spot. ”What are you smiling about over here?” She inquired suspiciously, twirling the wooden end side to side as if to dig in. “Bring it out. You are meant to open your gifts where we can all sight it.”

“It's not mine,” Vincent responded, wiggling the mini Gelert at his little sister who scrunched her brows curiously. “it's ma's. Let you have three guesses as to who it came from.” His grin only widened, knuckles crowning beneath his chin.

Down drooped the wooden sword as the young maiden examined it, eye quick to catch the tag dangling from the ribbon. Her brows scrunched deeper, tapping it up to the light. “How did he get in here? The morning has been too busy, someone should have seen him.”

“You are only asking now how he gets into the manor? Only now?” Vincent chuckled. “How many times have we spotted him and we hadn't the slightest clue where he popped from? He could be coming down the chimneys for all that we know. Would you be surprised if there was a secret door through the solarium?“

That earned a scoff and a roll of those blue eyes. ”Not in the least.“

”Ask not from whence Mr. 'Callows' came, my little sister.“ Vincent tapped at Francis's nose before giving it a buzz with a pinch. ”Ask where he is going only.“

”Beneath our pine?“

”Perhaps he is hidden amongst the ornaments, shrunken down to the size of a thumb.“

”You're daffy.“ The sword drew up and gave a gentle bonk to Vincent's noggin. ”Give mama her present, it is not polite to hold hostage gifts meant for ladies.“

”Since when is it that ma has enjoyed being treated with the courtesy of a lady~?“

Another bonk. ”Daffy boys are run through with swords and left outside for crow's pinochle, you know. National decree by the Queen herself.”

“Oo,” Vincent made a face, squinting his eyes at his little sister and pointing at her. “You, my sword maiden, are malevolent.” A swat at the sword and a rustle of his fingers through her hair with very audible protest, and Vincent rose up and wandered across the floor to Claudia at last. Francis was naturally tailing him, fixing her hair with grumbles beneath her breath and huffs. “Ma?“

Ma — Claudia — was somewhere on the nearest lounge buried beneath a long draped blanket, a shawl, a slumbering wolf, and fresh curly wood shavings, her wood cutter's blade fiercely at work shaping out the crude satyr. Her brows popped in acknowledgement, white-pupiled eyes flicking up from her work. ”Aye? Are we ready to move outside?” She inquired with a grin and squint of the eyes. Oh yes, despite the horrible fact that it was sheet upon sheet upon sheet of snow out there, Claudia would expertly drum up the interest of playing in it with the children. Just because she hated the blasted cold did not mean they needed to inherit her grudge for the season!

But lo, her eyes hooked onto the Gelert and lit up into a bloom. “Ohhh.”

“It's for you.” Vincent offered, hopping up next to his mother, never minding the wood chips. Francis flanked on the other side, very much minding the wood chips and sweeping them off before getting cozy and burying her face into Gelert's coat. “Hidden in the tree.”

Crooning with adore, Claudia abandoned her work to cradle the toy and bring it in close to embrace, stroking fingers over the head and tapping at the little ears, her expression completely melted with drooping lips and a matching hum. ”Did you fall asleep again? You got a pup now!” She remarked to the wolf, who only snored in response. Her eyes rolled and a hand clapped heartily at his side with affection before pinching at the name tag.

Ah, there it was. A knowing, twisting smile grew across unpainted lips. Her heartbeat skipped a few regulated pulses. Vincent and Francis both observed, sharing a look with one another that matched in thought before glancing back to their mother and her 'mysterious' unnamed gift.

“Isn't that the sweetest little wolf ya ever seen?” Claudia asked, winding both arms around her children to yank them in and hug them close, patting the small wolf to her chest. “Soft the touch, too. Either of you really felt him?” Her head tilted, wiggling it at Francis's nose and making it give her a kiss, which made her face scrunch, yet earned a small smile in its wake. “He's even got a ribbon! I don't know whether to keep it tied, or put it on one of you.”

“All the better to noose Vinny with.” Francis hummed, leaning her head into Claudia's shoulder and finally reaching up to actually pet the little wolf plush, stroking the top of its noggin. Claudia gasped with false shock, hand drawn to her chest.

“Ma, she is wicked this morning.” Vincent shot, fist pinning to his cheek. “I don't think Franny should have gotten any presents for such behavior. She's likely to turn green and grow warts with that very attitude. It's more fitting for a goblin.”

“I am deserving of them. I have dealt with you all this year, have I not?” Francis clicked. “You are utterly incorrigible and sneaky as a fox.”

Vincent fluttered his eyes at Claudia. “I?”

“You.” Claudia smirked, gently elbowing his shoulder. Her son only sighed defeated, shoulders slumped. “She does have a point, you know.”

“If I may say,” Tanaka spoke from his perch behind the chaise, a gentle but impish smile of his own on his face. “he has you for a role model, my Lady.”

A scoff! “I?!“ Claudia exclaimed.

”You.“ All three responded.

”Damn and double damn.“ She relented, holding mini Gelert up to her face and wiggling him. ”Am I worthy of this persecution, little Gelert?“

The toy wolf's eyes only shined in the light of the morning. While it held no opinion itself just yet, perhaps the stealthy gifter would be a fourth to agree.

#(( this is ur boy ur working with in the future. this is ur boy that is learning u like a book. ))#(( he lov u ))#(( francis does too but she is stubborn and will not admit it so easily unlike her daughter who is like 'THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND!!' ))#(( azzie having deep connections to the phantomhives that are given childhood depth!! ))#(( vincent messing with azzie and fully and /purposefully/ making the mistake to call him 'pa' at least once ))#(( at *least* once ))#(( this is so cute. thank u tickeroo. ;w; <3 ))#casketdweller #【 ic. 】 ¦ & with a wolfish grin.#【 v. the watchdog. 】 ¦ & the game begins.#【 &ship. 】 ¦ ní féidir le haon uaigh mo chorp a choinneáil síos; fillfidh mé dó.#special guest: vincent.#special guest: francis.#special guest: tanaka.#【 asks. 】 ¦ what all that howlin’s for.#inventory.#xmas 2k23.

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nezuscribe · 3 years

Text

bet to lose (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: Kaz Brekker relies on absolutes, and not hunches. But when you get hurt on his call, it all comes falling down.

"I don't bet on guesses, Jesper," Kaz snapped, looking behind his shoulder to throw a glare at the man behind him.

"You bet on me." You chirped up from behind Inej, and a couple of snickers were heard around, Jesper shoving your arm slightly as if he didn't agree with your statement.

Kaz didn't respond as he lead you all through the maze of the house, careful not to make any noise as he padded softly around.

"Remember, the lady in waiting sits two seats behind the main head, so be careful that she doesn't see you." Kaz softly reminded, his voice lowering the closer he got to the ballroom where most of the attendees were at.

"Right, I recall you saying that what," Jesper looking around, poking your side, a small laugh falling from your lips, "Twenty? Thirty times?"

Kaz's nostrils flared but he kept silent, sparing a small glance at you, feeling his tense shoulders ease a bit at the joyous smile on your face.

He couldn't recall the last time he felt this light when hearing the twinkling sound of a laugh, but he's sure that you must have been the first one to have caused his stomach to flip inside and out.

Kaz was never quite sure what he thought of you. He was quite sure, most of the time, that you were much too easy-going and playful for the business you were in.

But other times, however, such as this, he wasn't sure whether or not he just appreciated having you there with him. The mere sound of your voice settling his nerves down a bit.

The music that wafted down the marble halls echoed around the group, and you were quick to point out the songs being played, reminding Kaz once again of one of your many talents.

"There," Kaz stopped and everyone else followed in suite, looking around the corner towards the grandiose doors, the twirling ladies and men in suits and ball gowns signaling that they had reached their destination.

"Everyone knows their places," Kaz said, cocking his head, telling everybody to disperse and get in their positions, "The painting should be coming out soon enough."

You watched as Inej went towards the upper left balcony, jumping some stairs as she made her way through. Jesper ran down one of the halls, his guns clanking at his sides.

That left both you and Kaz standing silently near the doorway, studying the scene.

"Reckon the paintings not going to be here?" You asked him, hearing his deep sigh as he hung his head down, brows lacing with obvious annoyance.

"No," He bit out, looking at you from the corner of his eyes, "I told you, all of my sources are absolute. I don't bet on guesses." You eased against the wall, facing him, looking at the people dancing, oblivious to what was truly about to happen.

You watched as he glanced at the clock on the wall adjacent to you, his grip on his cane tightening with every passing minute.

"Wanna bet on it, then?" His eyelashes flickered up, the pertinent scowl on his face looking more menacing with the help of the shadows.

"Gambling is Jesper's things, not mine." He looked at the clock again, taking as the hand passed the minute mark.

"You could make it your thing, you know." He snorted coldly at that, looking away so you wouldn't see the dusting of pink on his cheeks.

"I'm serious!" You exclaimed quietly, crossing your arms in defiance. "You have your cane, the crows, and you could have gambling. And with you, I'm sure there's nothing you couldn't win." He hoped you wouldn't catch the upturn of his lips, the small and barely visible smile on his lips as you talked.

He didn't say anything, but you knew he wasn't tired yet of your chattering, so you made small conversation to fill the silence.

"Or maybe you could pursue drawing?" You offered, not missing the small grin he had as he looked down at the floor, studying his shoes.

"My hands are a bit too shaky for that, I'm afraid." He remarked back and you scoffed, not buying his words.

"What about cooking?" This one brought out a tiny chuckle from him, causing a smile to grow on your face. His thumb rubs the head of his cane, back and forth, and you feel back quiet again, not knowing what to say to make him ease up a little.

"Do you like dances?" You asked him after some time thinking, and he looked up, his eyebrows furrowed a bit at your question.

"Dances?" He looked back at the doors, shrugging a little bit, "The painting and jewelry, yes, I have a liking for. The actual idea, however, I can't say I'm a fan of." You rolled your eyes, his obvious answer almost pitiful at how much you knew he was going to say it.

"But the outfits are their own statement, don't you think?" You pointed to one lady who took up nearly three places with her extravagant hoop skirt, the red and gold satin shimmering and moving like waves whenever she walked.

"You like outfits?" He tried not to sound curious and imposing, but the gleam in your eyes as you described the lady's outfit was something he'd like to see again.

"Costumes, outfits, fabrics, clothing," You listed things off, "Didn't forget I was a seamstress, did'ya?" Kaz nodded slowly, trying hard to fight his smile as you bumped your shoulder into his.

You had told him this before, he knew this as well. But you forgot easily and he liked hearing you talk about the things you enjoyed.

You went to add something else to the story, but when the clock struck the midnight mark was when you noticed his change in persona, the small calmness he held tightened and his posture went rigid as he looked around the hall.

"It's late," He muttered, and you looked around, worry setting in, causing you to walk a bit closer to the double doors, trying to see what the guests were doing, "Too late-"

And that was the last thing you heard before the room exploded and you were sent flying back.

---

Your ear was a mess of dimmed-out noises, and the moment you opened your eyes the familiar glim of the Crow Club.

You could barely make out any other figures besides the small moving blobs who you assumed to be people.

Their muffled voices blurred together, and the sharp pain in your abdomen and back caused you to barely heard anything else.

You clenched your teeth, trying to sit up, cradling the spot the ache in your hands but hands were quick to lay you back down, the voices around you halting.

A cup was pushed past your lips, liquid falling down your throat and you shakily gripped it, finishing the rest slowly, your vision coming back to you, you hearing following not long after.

You found Jesper, Inej, and Kaz surronding you, their faces all solemn one way or another, studying your expression.

"Was I dead?" You asked groggily, words slurring together, but it got Jesper to flick your hand so you suppose it helped some of the tension.

"Nearly," Inej said warily as she quickly went to help the wound on your side, the slight sting of alcohol bringing you back to your senses.

You set the cup down, wrinkling your nose at the smell of blood and sweat, looking at Kaz who seemed to be avoiding staring at the blood staining your body.

"What happened?" You asked, the question rining around you, the awkward shuffling of Jesper and Kaz rubbing his tired eyes saying more than words could have.

"There were other people after the painting," Inej spoke up, looking at the two boys, "It seems that their plan didn't work out, however." You nodded, now understanding the large sound and the blackout that followed afterward.

Remembering just how close Kaz was to you you sat up, worry instantly taking over you.

"Are you guys okay? Did anything else happen?" Jesper shook his head, rubbing your head as he went to exit the room, no doubt going to get a drink to wash the night out.

"No, darling, just you." Had it not been for the topic of the situation you almost would have laughed.

Inej wrapped up your stomach in gauze after she finished cleaning and sticking the wound up, and after a small glance at you and Kaz, a small comforting pat on your shoulder, she too followed in Jesper's direction.

You expected Kaz to leave, too, and so you went to move off the table, only to wince in pain, feeling gloved hands halt your movements.

"It's best if you lay down for tonight," He whispered, and you were almost sure that his voice shook as he eased you back onto the table.

"Right." You muttered, laying back, fluffing the pillow underneath your, trying to make yourself comfortable.

You felt a small coin pushed into your hand, and you looked up at him, confused.

"What's this for?" You turned it over, the engravements too true to be fake. The shine helped.

"The bet," He answered, sitting at the chair next to you, putting his cane aside, "You were right, actually. The painting wasn't even in the building."

You laughed but stopped when your stomach sent alarms to your head to shut up, and you laid back down, oblivious to the hurt that etched its way onto his face.

"I guess you wouldn't be a good gambler after all." You teased but he didn't say anything back.

"Kaz?"

He didn't reply.

"Kaz?" He looked up this time, the eye bags under his eyes shining a light purple in the candlelight. His lips were stretched out into a thin line, the splatter of blood on his cheek still not cleaned.

"You alright?" He scoffed instantly, standing up as he paced around the room, something you noticed he did when he got apprehensive.

"You have a wound the size of a coin pouch in your stomach and you're asking if I'm fine? Yes, Y/n, I'm splendid. Great, thanks for asking. I couldn't be any fucking better!" He snapped, his shoulders shaking a bit, his eyes cloudy as he looked back at you.

Kaz truly didn't know why he had been so careful of you in the beginning, always making sure you were well trained and prepared. But he knew now, seeing you hurt in front of him was something he knew were lay behind his eyes when he went to sleep.

The sight of your blood staining his gloves, no matter how dark, seeping its way into his hand until he was sure it would color his skin red.

"Why are you so angry?" You retaliated, going to sit back up but groaning in quiet agony as your side seized.

Kaz almost ran to you if not for him limp, finding the small pack of ice Inej had brought earlier and quickly placing it on top of your bandages, hands shaking.

You silently took the pack out of his grip, looking at him with a raised eyebrow and he couldn't look at you properly without either feeling his eyes water or a sore ache bump in his chest.

"Kaz?"

You called him again.

In that same voice that caused his heart to swell and his brain to muddle together.

"Are you alright?" You asked him again, this time softer, this time placing his hand off of your, knowing just how much it must have been hurting him inside to do the act.

"Yes," His voice cracked this time, and he looked at you, truly looked at you, letting you see the red in the whites of his eyes, the wet glaze over them, the way his hands almost shook when trying to grip his cane.

"Yes, I'm alright."

And he gingerly took your hand off of the ice, putting his in replacement, doing everything he could to numb your pain.

He didn't need to say anything else or do anything else.

For in the silence of that room you two seemed to understand that neither of you was quite alright, but together you two seemed to be a bit better.

#kaz x reader #kaz x reader angst #kaz x reader fluff #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x reader angst #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows x reader #kaz brekker imagines #kaz brekker #six of crows fanfic #six of crows #shadow and bone #soc #kaz #brekker x reader #six of crows angst #six of crows fluff #kaz fanfic #kaz imagine

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sxlver-sweet · 3 years

Note

Please i'm begging youu i want to see more fantasy au for tokrev and that pirate would be so good i even have some idess on me already 😩

–🎴

I HAD A FUCKING FIELD DAY WITH THIS I WANNA HEAR YOUR IDEAS PLS SHARE

i’m currently sleep-deprived, so some of these are probably really basic and there’s most likely errors somewhere in here skdkcmdksk

also, requests may be closed, but discussions and more ideas are absolutely welcome.

faerie!kokonoi, who preys on the heartbroken drunkards at upscale bars, listening with a secretive smile as they spill their life stories to the bartender. silver-tongued and clever, kokonoi purrs his condolences, slipping their name into the conversation with ease and feigning oblivion when they, cloudy-eyed and ignorant, hand over their precious bank information and the locations of their valuables.

tailor!mitsuya unable to concentrate on stitching up a torn dress with the incessant clanging in the background and snapping at blacksmith!pah-chin, who’s busy forging knight!baji a new sword. mitsuya chastises baji for being so careless, but all baji does is grumble and turn away, black oil and dirt smeared on his flushed cheeks and long hair clinging to his sweat-stained forehead from his previous sparring session.

wizard!mitsuya spinning golems out of clay and shooing them away with an order to find him more materials to craft matching cloaks for his newest apprentices, luna and mana.

leprechaun!nahoya luring unsuspecting villagers into the forest with the promise of gold coins, only to send branches crashing down onto their heads when they venture far enough. they shout irately and scramble after him as he tumbles, laughing, into the shadows… but it’s no use. he’s too fast.

mermaid!yuzuha punching the shit out of pirates and dragging them down from their ships when they disturb and/or hunt the peaceful merfolk

knight!draken pledging his life to princess!emma

werewolf!baji, who appears to casually laugh off questions about his sharp, prominent canines; when in reality, when he’s secretly sweating bullets. werewolf!baji, whom the others wrinkle their noses at and tease when he orders his steak rare. werewolf!baji, who can’t hide the particularly ferocious, almost predatory glint in his eye that only appears during brawls after the sun has fallen. everyone laughs it off, mistaking his bloodlust for adrenaline. it’s only baji, he’s just intense, they reason.

half-blood!takemichi, who leaps through time with the protective blood of a phoenix coursing through his veins. half-blood!takemichi, whose blood aids him in resisting the beckon of death that pries at the empty body he habitually leaves behind and enables him to keep rising back to his feet no matter who knocks him down.

dybbuk!shinichiro, whose rage inhabits mikey’s body, only flaring to aid in crushing kazutora beneath his little brother’s fist. dybbuk!shinichiro, who plucks away at mikey’s sanity day in and day out, demanding for his death to be avenged. dybbuk!shinichiro, who is the reason that mikey can no longer set foot in his bike shop, because no matter how hard he tries, mikey can’t seem to shut out the eerie groaning of forgotten bikes as they rust away or the crackling squelch of metal colliding with bone that he’s positive he’s never heard before—so why is he hearing it now?

executioner!kazutora, who has no problem with the unjust slaughters that tyrant!kisaki approves, because his unchecked guilt can only be satiated by “cleansing the kingdom of immoral souls.” executioner!kazutora, who hums a crude tavern song as he takes his sweet time lining up his blade with the neck of the shivering woman hunched before him—the shivering woman whose only crime is swiping some bread to feed her starving family. executioner!kazutora, who only finds retribution in the twisted cycle of playing the role of god’s “divine” axe.

knight!toman forming a wall in front of their king to square off against an approaching army, a measly one hundred men with fire in their eyes and swords dripping with blood—a measly one hundred men fully prepared to offer up their lives to protect king!mikey.

jester!hanma, who flirts with the women of the court and openly takes cheap shots at tyrant!kisaki, regardless of whether or not he’s in the vicinity. still, it doesn’t matter how humorous the joke is. no one dares to allow even a twitch of their lips. how hanma hasn’t been executed yet, they don’t know.

pirate!nahoya, who cackles like a madman and jeers at an opposing ship from his place perched atop the crow’s nest

apothecary!souya meeting his future s/o in a field of lavender while he’s searching for fresh herbs. apothecary!souya, who’s mortified by the chalky powder spattered on his overalls and runs a hand through his hair, accidentally smearing a yellow dust through his blue curls. apothecary!souya, who blushes when you kindly offer to brush the powder from his hair. apothecary!souya, who offers you one of the dandelions peeking from his pocket as a gesture of gratitude.

ladies-in-waiting!emma and hina scurrying off to deliver empty dishes to cook!mitsuya, who leans forward expectantly to hear the latest gossip when they approach him with sparkling eyes and poorly concealed smiles.

adviser!draken storming into king!mikey’s private chambers without an invitation to shout at him for neglecting his duties and drag him by the ankle out of bed

sorceress!hina enchanting a four-leaf clover necklace with a spell to keep knight!takemichi safe in battle

spymaster!sanzu scaring the shit out of his scribe!s/o whenever he pops up in the windows of the library in all black with no prior warning

doll-maker!izana, who lives in a secluded area of the woods with his apprentice kakucho and obsessively lines his shelves with replicas of the older brother he wishes he had

knight-in-training!chifuyu working extra hard to impress knight!baji, who had recruited him and taken him under his wing

steampunk inventor!chifuyu, who’s never seen without his trademark goggles that kazutora always pokes fun at and threadbare overalls splattered with oil stains. inventor!chifuyu, who nearly has a heart attack when baji hobbles in on one leg, grinning at him with a face swollen with bruises while waving his detached prosthetic leg in greeting. inventor!chifuyu, who keeps wrenches on his belt specifically to hurl at his idiot friends whenever they come into his shop all beat-up with their bronze prosthetics severely damaged

steampunk!hanma, who has a glass eye with the word “pain” engraved on the iris. steampunk!hanma, who asks kisaki to hold something for him. when the latter holds his hand out with an exasperated sigh, hanma sets his replacement eye in his palm and cackles hysterically when kisaki promptly jolts with disgust and chucks it across the room

cyberpunk!sanzu, who’s already inebriated but continues to drown deeper in the neon lights of the club as he pops an array of glowing pills into his mouth, body numb to the robotic assistants that hum around him and intermingle with the equally delirious crowd in case someone were to collapse from overdosing

masquerade!mitsuya, who smiles at you with such kindness and respect as he guides you onto the marble floor that you immediately resolve to discover his identity at a later date

masquerade!kakucho, who does everything in his power to prevent you from uncovering his identity. masquerade!kakucho, who fears that you’ll be disgusted with his deformed appearance once you see his scar.

samurai!yuzuha, who rescues you from a band of thieves but is perplexed when you insist on repaying her goodwill. samurai!yuzuha, who eventually starts coming to you whenever she needs her wounds bandaged or a home-cooked meal. samurai!yuzuha, who refuses to let you touch her sword with your pure, unsullied hands.

potion-maker!ran, who always despises when rindou barges into his workspace for nothing else than to tip over a couple jars and poke fun at his craft. potion-maker!ran, whose skin and hair have been permanently imprinted with the scent of clove and allspice berries. potion-maker!ran, who concocts love spells and perfumes that grant increased intimacy for the lovesick women who visit him when their own assets aren’t working. potion-maker!ran, who smiles charmingly and calls his female customers “darling.” potion-maker!ran, who has no problem with allowing them to test his products on him in order to guarantee their potency—but only if they’re attractive and have a pretty penny to spare :)

gunslinger!mikey, who almost shoots his big toe off trying to impress the beautiful barmaid across the room

servant!baji, who isn’t the slyest but always makes sure he leaves out a saucer of cream for the stray cats that wander through the town during the night, regardless of how much trouble he gets in. servant!baji, who develops a forbidden bond with his royal!s/o due to their shared love of animals. servant!baji, who is ignorant of the ways of courtship but does his best to flirt with you, however flustered and awkward he may be. servant!baji, who sheepishly seeks advice from his mother about how to impress royalty despite him being unable to offer you any material items.

necromancer!takemichi who doesn’t know wtf is going on and is literally only a necromancer because he fucked up reading a recipe for garlic bread that was written in cursive

vampire!kokonoi, who looks wistfully upon his collection of dusty, old perfume bottles as he recalls how they’d been the most expensive items on the market centuries ago. vampire!kokonoi, who possesses splintered, wooden chests overflowing with outdated currency that will never again be utilized. vampire!kokonoi, who sits for hours and stares at the photo of the young woman that he’s preserved in mint condition for countless years, wondering why he can’t remember who she is

half-blood!mikey, who wonders why his legs are so much stronger than the rest of his body, why he’s always been so much faster than his peers, and why they’re always chock-full of energy. half-blood!mikey, who’s blissfully unaware that the blood of his ancestors is not as it seems. half-blood!mikey, who has zero clue that his lineage marks him a descendant of the minotaur.

farmer!chifuyu, who’s too shy to approach the seamstress’s daughter, so he resigns himself to only admiring her from afar until she makes a move herself. farmer!chifuyu, who’s beyond embarrassed when he accidentally bumps into her, the dirt and grime on his clothing soiling her pristine outfit. farmer!chifuyu, who tries to brush it off, only to panic when the dust on his hands stains the fabric. farmer!chifuyu, who shows up at your mother’s shop the next day to apologize and is nearly chased out due to his kind “not belonging there,” only for you to object and invite him in, claiming that he’s your friend.

jack the ripper!sanzu, who leans up against a dirty brick building with his head low, tongue clicking in rhythm with the slim hands on his golden pocket watch as he decides on his next victim. jack the ripper!sanzu, who dons a simple, shapeless white mask that contrasts sharply with the elaborate feather woven into his top hat. jack the ripper!sanzu, whom others eye skeptically when he skillfully, easily slices his steak into cross-sections with nothing more than a butter knife. jack the ripper!sanzu, who smiles so charmingly at women, basking in their ignorance as he lures them into a sense of false security with a few sweet words. jack the ripper!sanzu, who seals all of his letters documenting his crimes with a lipstick-stained kiss and giggles manically when it smears onto his cheek. jack the ripper!sanzu, who is taken aback when one of his targets whirls on him with anger in their eyes and a knife gripped in their hands, fully prepared to give him a dose of his own medicine.

achilles!izana and patroclus!kakucho. that’s all i have to say. y’all know what’s up👀

soothsayer!takemichi, who’s looked down upon by his fellow prophets because of his frenetic efforts to change the future. while the rest lounge beneath the shade of trees, sweet-smelling smoke curling from their ornate pipes and hazy eyes trailing after people who they know are supposed to die tomorrow, takemichi is doing his best to track them down to warn them of their fate. “he’s just a boy,” the others chuckle, “he won’t make a difference.”

victorian era painter!s/o, who finds seishu inui snoozing beneath a tree and resolves to capture his beauty on a canvas. seishu, who’s well-aware of what you’re doing but decides to let you have your fun. painter s/o, who’s mortified when seishu happens to “wake up” as soon as they sigh with satisfaction and requests to see the picture.

barista!izana, who mixes drugs into his drinks for certain customers while they discreetly slide a handsome wad of cash across the counter

archer!chifuyu, who accidentally spears his superior through the leg while struggling with his bow. archer!chifuyu, who meets kazutora in the dungeons and befriends him during the one night he spends there. archer!chifuyu, who is confused and hesitant when he is abruptly assigned to join the ranks of the prince’s bodyguards. archer!chifuyu, who is white with shock when he sees kazutora stroll into the room, a golden crown balanced atop his head and a wide smile blooming upon his lips when he spots his new friend.

ROBIN HOOD!CHIFUYU

potion-maker!souya, whose face always softens whenever you stop by his shop during your daily mail delivery route. potion-maker!souya, who’s ashamed of himself for having considered exploiting your trust in him and slipping a love potion into your drink. potion-maker!souya, who always offers to make you something befitting the occasion whenever you’re running low on energy, not feeling well, or are nervous about something. potion-maker!souya, who’s too shy to confess his feelings for you.

town crier!nahoya, who sometimes slips a swear word or two into his announcements and prefers to storm the town on horseback, disregarding his elaborate attire. town crier!nahoya, who has definitely snatched you off the street during his routes, leaving you to cling to his sweat-dampened clothes and shout at him for being such an imbecile.

shapeshifter!nahoya, who diligently keeps his eyes closed because he can change everything about his appearance, except for his distinctive eye color.

353 notes · View notes

bonelessghoul · 2 years

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the witcher and the sea (2)

Summary: A lot can happen in just one day. For the Princess and the Witcher, as a newfound trust finally begins to form between them, she only becomes more persistent in breaking every rule and challenging him. As Geralt adapts to Skellige and tries to find a plan to stop the Drowners with Moira’s help, more secrets of the Princess’s life come about and their new bond is put to the test when her friends are found to be in danger. But the Witcher soon realizes that one cannot say no to a Princess.

Words: 8.8k

note: heyooo not really sure how many people will read this but hope those who do enjoy it!! Please give your feedback, reblog, like, and all that fun stuff. I tried to make this a little longer and more packed than the last part so I hope you all like it :)

Part One |...| Part Three

The morning came earlier than Moira would have liked with Saorise and a few of the handmaids entering her room at the crack of dawn with gowns for tonights feast.

“Good morning, Princess.” Saorise chimed.

In response, Moira turned on her side to face away from the curtains that were drawn open and she pulled the thick, silky blue blanket above her shoulders as she braced for the chilly air that came in from the open doors to her balcony.

“The guests won’t be arriving til noon, Saorise.” Moira groaned.

“That may be so, but your brother Eist has returned from Cintra.”

While she still wished to catch a few more hours of sleep, Moira sat up in bed and rubbed her crusted eyes as they adjusted to the pale morning light from the overcast skies. She hadn’t seen her brother all week and part of her found the motivation to spring up out of bed knowing he was arriving earlier than expected.

Saiorise was grabbing her a subtle dress to wear for the day from the wardrobe opposite of her bed, but Moira’s eyes were focused on the ones the handmaids brought in that were resting over chairs. They were surely sent by Birna who, despite dressing like a crow, picked out dresses that resembled the Turiseach’s colors of blues and silvers alike. Her eyes had immediately found the one in the middle.

It was the least tacky of blues, resembling the color of the ocean that reflected grey skies in its variety of tulley and netting. The corset was a light shade of blue, but hardly noticeable underneath the gold and silver sequins over the dark blue floral like fabric that spanned across the bust and just below her waist. There was a cape attached to it, hard over her shoulders and neck but the sleeves attached to it were sheer and the same color as the dress itself. That too shared the same dense silver and gold embroidery as her dress, and short silver chains connected it to the top of her corset.

Every little detail of the gown that Moira took in only made her eyes widen more and more with admiration.

“If you want me to get out of bed, Saorise, I think I would like to put on one of those dresses now.”

“Would you like us to prep you for the evening now, my Lady?” one of the maids asked.

Looking over at her Mage as she slipped out from under the covers, bare fit hitting the icy cold floor, the woman shrugged at her.

“Well, at least you will be spared from Birna harassing you to get ready today.”

Moira took a quick bath to freshen up, the sea breeze that blew in through her open balcony surely waking her up when her wet skin met the chilled air. But once she slipped into the gown and took a seat by the vanity her late sister once used, it was easier to listen to the duties she would have today as the guests arrived.

The Mage sat beside her, occassionally stepping outside while one of the maids went over the schedule of events.

“You will have breakfast with the King and Queen, the Jarl, and your nephew Crach will be joining as well.”

The other two maids were poking and prodding with her hair and face which made it slightly more difficult to hide her disgust at her nephew.

“The nephew that only bothers his uncles for whenever he needs favors and conveniently forgot my birthday last year. Lovely.” Moira said, only able to roll her eyes.

Saorise quickly turned though and walked into the room, shooting her frown.

“It’s not polite to speak of your nephew that way in front of the maids, Princess.” Saorise sighed, but there was an unmistakable look to her Mage’s face that only showed she couldn’t stand him either.

“Ladies, you remember the story of my precious nephew tattling on me to my brothers when I first picked up a bow and arrow, correct?”

“Yes, my Lady.” they said.

Moira beckoned her hand out to the women. “See? They know he’s a little rat.”

A few of them giggled and Saorise couldn’t hide her knowing grin either.

“After breakfast, the Queen has requested you help her make preparations for the court and then you two will stand with King Bran and Eist to greet the visitors. It seems you will be the one guiding everyone to the guest rooms.”

As the maid went down the list of her tasks, Moira’s mind drifted elsewhere to the Witcher. After their conversation yesterday evening, it had been mulling over in her thoughts and she was intending on speaking to him today if she even had a second or more to breathe. He was a hard man to read, and she tried to imagine all the ways she could approach him after making such a fool of herself. But even still, she was eager to find him at some point.

“And Moira, please don’t find any excuses to miss your duties today. If you even get a fingernail dirty I will know about it.” Saorise said, drawing her from her thoughts.

Moira frowned at her. “I would never do such a thing.” she assured.

Only moments later, the pair walked downstairs to the throne room which seemed all too empty with just her brothers standing around and guards posted like statues not too far away. But when Moira could hear Eist’s voice, a smile spread across her lips as her pace quickened to try and sneak up on him from behind.

But to no avail, Eist turned around with open arms before she had the chance.

“My dearest sister!” Eist beamed.

Eist looked younger than Bran, his hair darker like hers and his face unscathed of any aging despite all the battles he lead Skellige through. He was certainly dressed like a royal of Cintra though and maybe it was being on the sea for his travels that made him seem lighter with every moment, but his smile certainly had everything to do with Queen Calanthe.

“Hello, Eist.” Moira said, embracing her brother. “Tell me, are you finally married?”

His smile remained as he shook his head and sighed. “Not yet.”

Bran had been standing there, waving them over. “Come on, let’s eat. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Are you implying we start drinking now, my King?” Eist asked, raising a brow at him.

Moira laughed as she followed behind the two of them towards the long stretch of the dark wooden table where they would all be sitting this evening looking down on the room that would soon be filled to the brim.

“I think that is the best idea you have had. Perhaps you should visit Cintra more often.” Bran replied.

Without any commands, the servants from the kitchen were already at their table before they sat down with a freshly cooked breakfast of eggs, bread, and fruit. The two men had large pints of mead whereas she had wine, which she wasn’t sure would mix well for her food but Moira would not deny herself a drink.

“Where is Birna this morning?” Moira asked, leaning her head slightly forward to glance at them.

Bran swallowed his food and put his hand up.

“She was speaking with the Witcher after I had introduced Eist to the man who will put our people at ease. I think she will be very thrilled to see you wearing one of the dresses she had made for you.”

Moira’s brows raised as she sipped her wine.

“I’m sure she would be. Why did she need to speak with Geralt, though?”

“I see you’ve already learned his name.” Eist mused, looking at her suspiciously before turning towards Bran. “I still can’t fathom why you brought him here, brother. Our men are well suited to contain this problem that may I remind you, happens every year.”

Moira opened her mouth to question why Eist would care if she called the Witcher by his true name, but her family had always been wary of those who possess such abilities with the exception of their Mage. She was even more curious to know why Birna needed to speak with him but she refrained from asking any more questions at all.

“Eist, you cannot deny there is something off about all of this.”

“Maybe so, but how much do those of his kind ask for with such simple tasks?”

“The Isles have never been at peace as they are now! Finances are not a problem.”

As the two bickered the political nonsense Moira never cared for, she raised her glass to one of the servants who went to get her more wine. If this was the forecast of her day, she knew she was going to need it.

“Well on a lighter note, Moira, I have a present from Calanthe.”

Moira’s face contorted slightly as she sipped the freshly poured wine.

“A what? From Calanthe?”

Before she could even move, Eist had pulled out another bow and a fresh satchel of brand new arrows from the empty seat beside him and Moira’s jaw hit the floor. Immediately, she jumped from her seat and rushed over to her brother, marveling at the strong wood it had been carved from, glossy and shining from the mere daylight at every angle.

“Calanthe had this made for me?” Moira asked, her voice light as a feather while the excitement that ran through her squeezed at her heart.

“She knows a warrior when she sees one. While she’s never agreed with how Bran and I have raised you, I secrelty think she adores it.” Eist chuckled.

Moira’s eyes didn’t leave the new toy she had been gifted and she started to turn away, walking to return to her room while the two brothers called out her name.

“Moira, we have things to do today!” Bran called out.

“Then he should have shown me this tomorrow!” she casually replied, glancing back at him.

As she left the court, Saorise had been walking in her direction and Moira had nothing but the giddiest grin upon her lips.

“Where are you going?” her Mage asked, pausing as she kept walking.

“I’ll be back in time for the guests, don’t worry.” Moira chuckled.

The exasperation from Saorise’s face did not go unnoticed, but everyone knew there was no stopping her from trying this out now and let her go on her way.

Once she returned to her room, Moira immediately picked up her old beaten arrows and gently placed the new ones from Cintra upon her bed.

There was the nagging thought of knowing she had to help Birna with the preparations for tonight, but she easily dismissed it when she picked up her new bow and went outside. From her room, she could see the tiny harbor village down below. It seemed so much closer than it really was with the ships docked and the roofs of every home and establishment. Her favorite part was how she could see the way this part of the Isle curved, the mountains surrounding them like they were extensions of her own arms. There was even the rocks just a couple miles out that stuck out from the water like the back of a serpent.

Sometimes she felt as if she could shoot an arrow and it would land right on its surface.

But for now, Moira leaned upon the stone barrier between her and a very miserable descent to the gardens beneath her.

Sometimes, she would shoot at nothing. Other times, she would simply aim for a particular tree or somewhere down below just to mess with the guards. Moira was tempted to use her new arrows as her old ones didn’t feel right with this newly carved bow, but she knew she had to get rid of them sooner or later and did so by freely shooting them from her balcony.

Even though the air was cold, her newly tailored gown kept her warm enough and didn’t hinder the focus she needed in every muscle and breathe she took.

But as she came down to her last arrow, Moira caught side of a white haired figure all the way down to the left. From here, she could not make out Geralt’s face as he stood at the near opposite end of the castle at the stables, but she could see the indivudal stacks of hay under the wooden structure that held his horse Roach. Birna was nowhere to be seen, and she was still curious as to what they spoke about earlier, but knowing that she was gone made her more eager to mess with the Witcher.

She wanted to talk to him soon, and she still drew a blank as she did since last night when it came to what she wanted to say. By the time she would make it down there while he was alone he would surely be gone.

As the gears turned in her head, Moira quickly turned away from the balcony to rush back to the vanity and she searched for a piece of parchment and something to write with while anxiously hoping Geralt would still be standing there.

Once she found what she needed, she quickly scribbled down a simple little note, tying it to her last dainty little arrow as fast as her fingers could before rushing back out to the balcony. To her relief, the Witcher stood there presumably feeding roach from what she could make out from here. Placing the bow and drawing back, Moira sucked in all the air she could fill in her lungs and narrowed her eyes upon the wooden post that was only a few feet away from the two.

Maybe this would be a bad idea if there was a sudden breeze that suddenly ended with a dead Witcher or a horse and she halted for just a moment.

But when Geralt slowly started to turn away from Roach, Moira didn’t hesitate when letting go of the bowstring and still held her breath as she watched it soar across the air.

From the stables, Geralt had caught sight of the Princess a few moments ago aimlessly playing with her bow and arrow. Of course, she was not looking as he occasionally glanced up at her, his mind unable to wrap around the freedom she had with her title. Geralt didn’t know the brothers that held such power of Skellige, but what he knew didn’t surprise him one bit with what he’s learned about the Princess over the past day.

Roach made a soft little huf and swayed her head.

“I agree, Roach. She is hiding something about the Drowners.” Geralt responded, feeding her one last apple before turning away.

The horse made another sound, a bit harsher this time but it didn’t diguise the sound his supernatural hearing could only pick up. It was like the hum of an insect, except more high pitched and in the seconds it took to come close enough, Geralt turned around to hear the head of an arrow sink its way into the wooden post not too far from them.

“It seems this Princess also has a death wish.” he muttered with a frown on his lips as Roach became slightly startled.

Moira winced, guilty for causing the beautiful creature to become scared and quickly turned away to her room.

But Geralt, curiosity hidden under his firmly pressed lips watched as the little piece of parchment slipped off of the arrow and into the dirt. When he walked over to it to read it, his eyebrows raised, lightening his face ever so slightly.

“I will tell you what I know tonight. Say a word of it to my family and the next arrow will be in your head, Witcher.

Moira.”

By the end of it, Geralt could not hide the way the corner of his lip ticked up just a little, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Maybe this would all be worth the coin after all, he thought.

~~~

The day passed rather quickly and people from all over Skellige soon filled the castle.

Moira’s usually empty home came to life and she loved every second of it. Ever since Bran became king, court was hardly as fun with how much work he put into keeping the peace between the Isles but when he did decide to make things more interesting, it never failed to be a wonderful time.

But Skellige, the rowdy bunch that never missed an opportunity to dress up and drink til the sun rose the next morning, still maintained a decorum of formality to impress the royal family that ruled it and Moira was not used to it. As a child, everyone greeted her like the adorable little Princess she was and she would run off with her friends in no time but now there was a growing discomfort with every man that kissed her hand and girls she once called friends already married and staring at her with looks that could kill.

“Keep smiling, Princess.” Birna whispered, nearly breathing down her neck.

Moira whipped her head back to look at her, wearing a deep navy blue gown that was almost as detailed as hers but much more delicate. Whereas Moira looked like she could run into battle with the tiara upon her head, Birna did radiate a certain elegance that she never knew possible in Skellige.

Together though, the two of them standing before the entire population was a sight to be admired as they all gathered to greet them.

“I am smiling.” Moira hissed the second another family had passed them.

Birna raised an eyebrow at her before she turned back around.

“The dress you picked looks very nice. It’s probably why every girl looks like they want to kill you and every man wants to get down on one knee.”

Moira scoffed, still maintaining her smile as one of the men from Ard Skelling took her hand. She had to force her politeness as she curtseyed for the man who was twice her age.

“It’s almost as disturbing as you complimenting me.” Moira said as the man went away.

Moira had to give some credit to the man her brother chose to love. What they had was genuine, something that didn’t happen often in this world. Despite their relentless fights, with the mother and sister she never truly got to know gone, Birna had done her best to mold her into the woman she was today even with resistance from Moira.

As her brothers, Birna, and Saorise turned to take their seats, she shared a secret grin with her Mage who had overheard her conversation.

“Who knew she could be so nice to me?” Moira said under her breath, wiggling her brows as they ascended the stairs.

Saorise laughed gently. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Princess. You know she will tear you to shreds over something so little at some point tonight.”

Moira agreed and just as she reached the top of the stairs, her brothers and Birna already at their seats, a new face had walked down the aisle of already seated members of the court,

“My king, you have one more guest tonight.” a guard said.

Moira turned around, Saorise still trailing behind her a few stairs below her, and just over her shoulders the Witcher himself entered and a similar feeling to the first time she saw him just yesterday evening washed over her.

She froze midstep, watching as he strode over towards them, and everything within her seemed to tighten like a coil.

Geralt’s eyes were as gold as the chandeliers above them, and she watched as they quickly scanned over her dress and suddenly she could feel every inch of fabric on her skin like fire. She wondered if he felt scrutinized by her when she looked at the hardened armor as black as night that he wore, curious about the silver pendant around his neck.

As every hair on her began to stand, feeling pulled into some world where she forgot that the entirety of Skellige’s most important families surrounded them, she was quickly drawn back to reality when her brother Bran breezed by her to greet the Witcher halfway.

It almost made her laugh at how short the Witcher made everyone look.

“Why is he dressed like that?” Eist asked, his voice low.

“He’s a mutant. Of course he wouldn’t know how to dress appropriately for court.”

Moira glanced back at them.

“That’s a rude way to speak of the man who’s going to rid of us our Drowners problem.”

They dismissed her easily and ascended the stairs to take their seats and Moira took one last glance at Geralt before following them with Saorise.

Once above all of the guests, she watched as every head in the court turned on the Witcher as Bran led him up to their table, their whispers hardly going unnoticed. After knowing how he could hear her heartbeat, she wondered if he could hear the things they were saying.

But when Bran picked up his pint, tapping one of the butter knives against it, every whisper and sound from the small band ceased.

“People of Skellige! I welcome you to this wonderful occasion which I am sure you are all wondering what it’s about.” Bran announced, his deep voice filling the hall. “I’m sure you’re all even more curious as to why we have a Witcher in our presence.”

Looking over at Geralt who stood there with a straight face, she could sense his disdain for the show her brother was putting on. Or perhaps he just always looked like that.

“As many of you may already know or have heard whispers about, An Skellige has been plagued by an uprise of monsters that have once kept quiet and has been harming the people of our villages. I want to do what is best for my people, even if those of you from the other Isles may not be affected, I want it to be known that everyone’s safety is a matter I take seriously which is what led me to my decision in bringing a Witcher here to prove that to you all.”

People began to clap, and Moira did too.

“But even in this troubling time where many of the people of An Skellige may be concerned, I want it to be known that the Witcher will slay the beasts that think they can attack people of Skellige nonetheless!”

The claps got louder, the men cheering now which brought a smile to Moira’s lips.

Bran then turned to the Witcher.

“Geralt of Rivia, I welcome you to Skellige and will provide anything you need to do what it takes. Now, lets eat, drink, and show this Witcher what it is like to celebrate amongst us!”

The Witcher had a smile on his face now, even if it seemed like he had to put it on for show. Her brother was always one to put on a show, so she was glad that he could at least pretend to enjoy such attention while it was all on him. To her relief though, he sat on the opposite end of the table from him and once food was served, her stomach was in too many knots to properly enjoy it.

“You think you could make it a little less obvious that you’re infatuated with him, Princess?” Saorise said.

Moira sipped her wine and glanced at her mage.

“You are imagining things, Saorise.” she dismissed.

The woman grinned at her, a taunting grin at that.

“I haven’t seen you look at anyone that way since Rotty came back from those long months at sea with the rest of the navy.”

“That was a pathetic little crush I had when I was fifteen!” Moira cried, laughing as she looked at the woman. “Plus, every woman here is oggling at the Witcher. I’m here to help him get rid of the Drowners and nothing more because he will be on his way traveling and slaying monsters across the Continent.”

“You like danger, Moira, and I fear that Geralt of Rivia is a very attractive piece of danger to you.” she said, sighing with exasperation.

“I don’t see a problem with that.” she shrugged, glancing across the table to catch another look at him.

The moment people finished eating, it wasn’t long before guests started to fill the open space of the floor to dance in pairs to the light music the band played.

After a couple glasses of wine, Moira even dragged Saorise out to the floor with her and they linked arms and danced together like she was a child again. Even Eist joined after forcing Bran and Birna to come down with him and for a moment, she forgot that she needed to speak with Geralt.

The one thing Moira adored about her family depsite all of their bickering was that they were not the type of royalty to remain seated and look at their people through their noses. They were more than ready to drink and dance amongst their people like they were all one big family which they all were more or less.

It was why she never feared being a traditional Princess.

Moira eventually backed away from the crowd, stearing more towards the open balcony windows so she could catch the cool air while still remaining in the ballroom itself.

As she stood on the outskirts of it all, admiring the crowd that sung and danced together, she noticed Geralt come up beside her out of the corner of her eye and immediately straigthened up.

Everything from the way he stood to the way his eyes seemed to scrutinize the guests gave her the impression that he didn’t quite know what to do, aside from the obvious part of how much he did not fit in.

“I sense you don’t really like big parties being thrown in your honor?” Moira asked, staring up at him as he scanned the crowd.

The Witcher heaved a sigh as he looked at her with a lighter expression compared to his unnervingly blank face.

“I never really have parties thrown in my name. Kings and rulers typically keep my presence hidden and the job they have for me secret.”

“I’m almost surprised by that. So, I assume you don’t typically like these royal parties then?”

Geralt looked back out at the people of Skellige and her family in particular, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“It is not necessarily my cup of tea.”

Moira snickered, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the column she stood near.

“I didn’t take your kind as the type who would drink tea anyway.”

“You’re right. We prefer to keep a stash of the blood of the monsters we slay anyway.”

She quickly turned to him, her mind letting her believe that he was serious for a moment by the way he didn’t even blink.

“Wait, really?”

“No.” Geralt said, looking at her with raised brows that seemed to pull up the corner of his lips as well.

Nervously, she let out a laugh, and Moira shook her head as she looked down at her shimmering gown.

“Well, speaking of monsters, I do believe I owe you an honest conversation about the Drowners.”

“It appears you do, Princess.”

Moira frowned at him. “Call me Moira.”

Geralt nodded. “Understood.”

Taking a deep breath, her memory of the Drowners unfolded as she tried to figure out where to start and still cover her tracks.

“We have a pretty skilled navy and army here on Skellige. So, when the Drowners started to claim more lives than they normally do in the winter, my brother decided to send them out to patrol the area. My best friends are in the navy and I grow restless in the castle so I decide to sneak out and help them.”

“That’s very bold of you.”

Moira glared. “I am very skilled with weapons. I grew up with two brothers who didn’t ever really know how to raise a little girl without putting a sword into her hands for fun.”

“Your aim with a bow and arrow is impeccable but I think Roach would disagree.” Geralt mused.

“In all fairness, I did not mean to startle your horse. It was mainly a jab at you for being so forward last night. Anyway, you’re getting away from the point!”

“Carry on.” he said, nodding at her.

“One night, we were patrolling one of the streams that go through the woods. It isn’t that close to the village, but it connects to the bay just off of Urialla Harbor where we’ve seen them the most and thought that’s where people have been getting snatched up. What we found out was true, and that they have been traveling from the bay in numbers I’ve never heard of.”

“That’s when you got attacked.”

“Yes.” Moira sighed. “The waters were covered in mostly ice, which is why we didn’t expect to see them, but since that night we’ve went back to that area and have probably killed about a dozen already.”

Moira knew she was keeping a major part of the story out, but it was a secret buried so deep that no one other than Saorise would ever know. But she was comfortable with what she told him and hoped he wouldn’t pick up on what she left out. Technically, she wasn’t lying.

“That bay you mentioned, has there ever been anything else there?”

Moira shrugged. “Just a couple of weird caves but nothing out of the ordinary. It’s a place where everyone goes in the warmer months.”

Geralt seemed to be trying to connect the dots in his head, but when he nodded, she was slightly relieved.

“Any ideas yet?”

“Not really. I can slip out tonight and try to find out more for myself.”

Nodding slowly, Moira wanted to interject and offer to come with him, but Saorise had been approaching them.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Witcher.” Saorise said, bowing her head towards him before turning to her. “You, Princess, cannot be seen hiding in the corners of a celebration thrown by your own family.”

Glancing at Geralt who seemed to be amused at this, she sighed heavily and started to walk with her.

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Moira said, glancing back at him.

“Thank you, Princess.” Geralt smirked.

Before she could snap at him, Saorise had pulled her to dance again and the two were back to how they were except this time, she looked at Geralt every chance she had as he still stood in the same spot she left him.

“It was only a matter of seconds before Birna scolded you for talking with him.” Saorise said, pulling her away again.

Moira shrugged. “You’re not wrong.”

As Moira danced with her family again, she had unlinked arms with Eist and thought she would be jumping into a dance with Bran but instead found her nephew Crach joining her and her mouth was instantly filled with a bitter taste.

“Oh, look who it is!” the young man boasted.

Moira smiled at him cockily as they continued the dance routine.

“How unfortunate it is to see you again, my dear nephew.”

Crach shared a strong resemblance to Bran with a face full of light colored hair and the same eyes the whole family had. But he had the brain of a boar and certainly embodied the arrogance of once. She never imagined how her fair sister could have conceived such a pest.

“You’re breaking my heart, Moira! We’re still family you know!”

“We may be family, but you are a royal pain in my ass who in fact, does not seem to care about family.”

They switched positions again, and she was eager to find another partner, her head on a swivel as she was practically flailing around and missing steps while she danced with him.

“What were you doing talking to the Witcher? You know Birna would have a fit for not speaking to an eligible bachelor.”

Moira rolled her eyes.

“Not all of us have the luxury of escaping to live with another family in the Isles, Crach.”

“Maybe you should finally marry and leave Skellige entirely. Ever think of that? It’s not like it’s hard, Princess—but wait, it seems you still think you can be a soldier.”

Striking a nerve in her, Moira snatched her arm a way from him, causing a ruffle in the flow of Skellige’s most traditional jigs as she now stood in the center of it aflame with anger spewing towards her nephew.

“Don’t judge me when you know all the women at every brothel in the Isles, you little rat.” Moira seethed.

Crach put his hands up in defense, giggling like a little boy as he did so.

“I mean no ill intent, Moira. Don’t get so riled up, you know that isn’t attractive.”

Moira stepped forward. “I’ll show you riled up when I shove my—”

“Princess.” said an unfamiliar voice.

Moira sharply turned around, her blood pumping with more heat towards the pest she called a nephew only to find Skjordal Drummon, the jarl of one of the clans that rivaled Crach and his family on Ard Skellige. The man was at least fifteen years older than her and it showed, but his mere presence made her go cold as he looked down at her with a hunger to his eyes that every man had tonight.

“What a pleasure to see you again, Skjordal.” Moira said, her voice strained as she straightened herself out.

“May I have this dance? My absence on this island has suited me well I suppose, and it’s an honor to have returned to witness such elegance and grace you have grown into.”

“She would love to!” Crach said, gently pushing her forward.

Moira’s heart was racing, unable to process the sickening comment her made to her still even as her hands became intertwined with his, making her skin crawl. Every fiber of her being wished to have whipped around and hit Crach with all her might, but instead, she was left with the repulsive feeling that made her stomach churn as Skjordal gleefully pulled her into the dance routine.

The seconds felt like long, brutal minutes as Moira kept her attention elsewhere as they danced, waiting for the song to switch by the band so she could run away from the way his hand squeezed hers and the other rested on her back. She was choking on her own breath as she kept her chin tilted up for formalities.

Skjordal had a daughter that was almost her age, having been sent off to the Continents a couple years ago with a new husband.

It sickened her that he was trying to pull her in every chance he got as the song continued on so much so that it began to make her dizzy.

As her gaze remained on anything else, she kept making eye contact with Geralt.

From the outside, he could sense her discomfort after being irritated by her nephew and shoved into the arms of a man old enough to be her father. She was looking for every chance she could to escape, and Geralt would be lying if he said the sight of it didn’t bother him.

But that was the fate of most princesses he encountered, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised to see it happening to Moira.

Before the song could even end, Moira had forced herself to pull back and she quickly put her hand up to her head to give the impression that she was exhausted.

“I must say, all this dancing has me feeling quite ill. I think I didn’t eat enough this evening.” Moira laughed faintly. “I appreciate the dance, Skjordal. We will have to do it again later!”

In reality, her face was as white as snow as it was slowly draining of its color as that of a truly ill person, but she was also flustered to finally have gotten away from the dance. If she continued any more then she would have surely fainted in the middle of it all.

Before the jarl could even answer, Moira slipped away, just catching a glimpse of the offense he took to her leaving, and she wanted to run to the kitchens for any water she could find. As she breezed through the dense crowd, she only started to feel more irritated from every drunken Skelliger that brushed up against her, every touch making her want to scream.

What nearly set her over the edge was a firm but dainty hand grabbing her elbow and pulling her back, bringing her face to face with Birna.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she yelled in a hushed tone, her eyes wildly angry, yet still perfectly shielding her body from any wandering eyes.

Moira was confused though, yanking her arm back.

“Do not grab me like that, Birna.” Moira said, backing away. “We may be family but you are still no more than my rotten sister in law and that doesn’t give you permission to—”

“Family looks out for family, you spoiled brat.” Birna snapped, stepping forward again. “What you did by running off from a member of the Drummond clan was embarrassing! Your brother has done nothing but bring the Isles together in no way that anyone has ever seen. What will they think when Skjordal runs off and tells everyone you made a fool of him that way!”

Moira was at a loss for words, her chest rising and falling as every possible curse flooded her mind.

“He’s a man, he wouldn’t admit to being made a fool by a princess.” Moira said, picking the softer of responses for the sake of the night.

Birna laughed darkly, shaking her head, a gleam of sadness to her desperate eyes.

“You don’t get it, Princess.” she scowled. “You don’t understand how brutal men can be when they don’t get what they want.”

Tears immediately stung her eyes. Little did the precious Queen know, Moira knew all too well how brutal a man could be even without doing a single thing to provoke it. It was something she was not shy to whether she acted like a Princess or not.

“You don’t know anything about me.” Moira said between gritted teeth.

“I know enough to know that your brothers have guided you to believe you won’t be married off someday, and it should have already happened! You cannot sit here and think you are exempt from this path, and you cannot let the men of Skellige believe that either if your brother’s reputation as king means anything to you!”

Moira was trembling, every word suffocating her more and more.

She felt helpless against Birna who knew all the right things to say to pick her apart and get her to listen.

But that frustration that built up in her was growing, so much so that the winds outside began to pick up. It was as if the tide was at her fingertips.

Her eyes immediately scanned the room for Saorise as the fear of her own strength began to creep in with that deep hum from her blood.

“Who said anything about marriage?” Moira scoffed, trying to downplay what was truly happening outside the walls.

“You are a naïve little girl, Moira. If you don’t think your brothers know you are overdue for starting your life as a true woman, then you are deeply mistaken.”

The tears that stung her eyes made the Birna and the chandeliers beyond her head blur. Blinking them away, she glanced outside through the windows and saw that snow started to fall.

Moira could feel the storm within her, every gust of wind with every breath and every word Birna spoke fueling her imagination that every snowflake was like ice shredding against her skin. It was dark, even for Moira, but it would be worth releasing the numbing buzz that ran over every inch of skin. She had the strength of a thousand oceans in her mind and if she even blinked the wrong way, Moira swore that the waves could swallow the whole island.

“If you think I’m going to whore myself out to any man of power that walks through these doors like you did, you are deeply mistaken.”

Without another word, Moira turned away, knowing that it would be too much for her to stay around and stormed out to the balcony where she prayed no one would bother her as she hid off to the dark corner that wasn’t touched by the light of the party.

The brisk air was welcoming to her, the gentle snow that seemed harsh with the wind calming as she took deep breaths. Her hand rested against the stone where ice seemed to have covered, and that bone deep chill seemed to bring her fuzzy mind back to reality.

Anyone would have guessed that it was a gust of wind bringing some extra snow off the roof of their castle.

“Moira…” said a gentle voice that belonged to her mage.

Looking down at her feet that stood in the small dusting of snow, she felt a single tear roll down her cheek from the waterfall she was trying to hold back.

“I just want to be alone, Saorise. I have it under control.”

Her knuckles were as white as the gentle coating beneath her from the way she was gripping the stone railing.

It hurt her to push her away, especially knowing that her mage was the one who helped hide this mysterious magic that flowed through her blood. But of all people she would understand and if she could convince her that she had it under control, she hoped that it would keep her convinced that her family would never know.

When Moira heard her footsteps walk away, she felt it was a little easier to breathe.

But then, when she heard another pair of footsteps return, she sharply turned around.

“I said I wanted to be—”

Moira paused at the sight of Geralt who was looking at her quizically.

“It’s you.” she sighed, a cloud of her air pushing through her lips before she turned back around.

Staring out at the forest that looked like a black abyss at night, she knew that she had very little chance of hiding from him now.

“That was quite a show you put on.” Geralt said, coming up beside her. “You’re lucky none of the members of this court are sober enough to put two and two together.”

Moira scoffed, chuckling humorouslessly as her head tilted back.

“I wish I could say I had no idea what you were talking about, but something tells me you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

Geralt leaned back on the railing her hands rested upon, arms folded across his chest, and he shook his head at her.

“Not a chance.”

They stood there in silence, and yet the chaos that stirred within her as she tried to come down from the events that occurred over the span of ten agonizing minutes somehow seemed to disappear with him being there. Maybe it was the comfort of someone who knew nothing about her. Either way, she was almost glad he found his way to the balcony.

“Did you freeze the waters in the Isle?” Geralt asked, not in an accusing way which took her by surprise.

Moira thought back to that night when the Drowners attacked her and her friends and she could still feel that rush of power that took over her when they became too much.

“There were so many, and they ran. I got caught up trying to fight them off and once the one lunged at me, it sort of just happened. The entire stream was frozen over in an instant, half of their bodies still crawling out just frozen in time.”

“Hmm.” was all he said.

She raised a brow at him. “Wonderful response.”

They stood in silence once more and the guilt started to eat her away.

“Did I cause this?” she asked.

Geralt shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Moira turned her whole body to face him. “I need more than a few worded answers, Geralt.”

He sighed. “The Drowners are simple minded creatures. The ice would turn them away, not bring more to fight through it. I do not think your seemingly unhinged magic caused it but something else. I just have to figure out what.”

Moira could sense that now that he knew all the pieces to the puzzle, he was slightly troubled as well trying to figure out what exactly the missing piece was.

“Did you just call me unhinged?” she asked.

“I don’t think I could call it anything else, Princess. How exactly does one in your position go her whole life hiding something like that?”

Moira scoffed at him.

“Did it ever occur to you that these things might not be welcomed in Skellige? That my family would ship me off to those cult like schools where girls become mages? Saorise told me of them, before she got lucky with my family she said it was hell.”

Geralt shrugged.

“There are worse fates.”

Moira crossed her arms, the cold finally seeping in through her dress now.

“And tell me, what do you know about fates, Witcher? You get to freely roam the Continent every day of your life, collecting money for risking your life. I am doomed to marriage and children and my people despise me because I don’t want any of it.”

“Like I said, there are worse fates.”

“You are truly a man of words.” she said mockingly.

They fell in silence again, which was more comforting than them speaking and she could find peace and their newfound trust. At least, she felt as if she could trust him a little more now after what took place tonight. It was such a shame it had to be ruined but she was relieved that she could find herself talking freely with someone other than Saorise.

“I’m going to take Roach out to the bay and see what I can find.”

Moira’s head perked up from where she stared at the dark ocean in the distance.

“I can help.”

Geralt’s head sharply turned towards her.

“No.”

“Did I hear you correctly?”

“Not used to being told no?” he retorted.

“That isn’t fair. I just told you everything. I deserve to help. I’ve been out there every night since before you came here.”

“And tonight you can peacefully sleep knowing I’m going to handle it.”

Moira watched his lips curve and she started to notice a pattern with the ways she could get him to crack that stubborn face of his, and it all seemed to be when he got a rise out of her. But even still, she couldn’t help but stare at him like he had two heads.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

“It’s Moira.” she said under her breath, watching as the Witcher left her on the balcony.

~~~

The following morning came with a heavy pit in Moira’s stomach from the moment she woke.

It was the calm after the storm following the events of last night, and the princess laid in bed staring out through the glass doors of her balcony, having left the curtains drawn last night by accident. It was another overcast morning and she could see the leftover dusting of snow on the stone and the mountains beyond it from where her head lay. But despite the echo of her terrible evening still resounding through her, there was something off about what today would bring and she couldn’t quite figure out why.

By the time Moira dragged herself from her bed, she slipped into more comfortable attire and hoped the guests were gone by now before making her way downstairs where she would hopefully find her brothers. If they weren’t already awake in the throne room discussing plans for the coming days, she had a few other spots in mind and wouldn’t be surprised if they had still been sleeping in.

As Moira neared the open doors to the throne room, she could already hear more than just her brothers voices.

Curiosity getting the best of her, Moira immediately entered the room without hesitation, finding her brothers, Geralt, and three men dressed in the Skellige navy uniform with one looking more wounded. A warning seemed to arise from her deepest thoughts before she even knew what was happening, and immense worry began to fill her as she made eye contact with the Witcher who didn’t look any more pleased than the rest of them.

“Ah, Moira.” Bran greeted, seated slumped in his throne while Eist shared a dismal look at his side. “It might be best if you come back later. I can have one of the guards bring you breakfast to your room, if you’d like.”

Moira raised a brow at him.

“You only offer me breakfast in bed when something is wrong.” She frowned.

Suddenly, one of the navy men turned around and she immediately recognized Arnie who stood there with a bruised face and his arm held in a swath to keep it stabalized after injuring it and her heart sunk. She could see a terrible heartbreak written on his face and she immediately approached him, hugging him carefully as her worst fears started to rise in her mind.

“Where is Rotty and Orin?” Moira demanded from her brothers, glancing at Arnie.

Eist sighed, looking down before turning his attention back to her. “Your friends, as well as three others from our forces were trapped on Undvik after unsuccessfully trying to fend off the ice giant.”

Two of her three closest friends were now missing, and she felt the crushing weight of it the way it was written across Arnie’s face.

“Will you be sending more men to try and rescue them?” Moira asked, her voice tight.

The thought of them being gone was not one she could easily believe. Maybe she couldn’t except it, but she felt it deep in her soul that it was not possible.

“Moira, dear…” Eist said, his eyes sad as they looked at her.

“No.” she laughed, shaking her head. “They are not only my friends but your men. How could that not be your first course of action?!”

“Moira, you don’t understand what happened. There was an avalanche and we got separated.” Arnie said, his bleary eyes looking at her.

The boy she knew as the weakest link between his brother and their friend Orin who might as well have been a brother too now looked strong. He was strong in his own ways compared to the two, but now standing alone, she could see just how much his face changed as he accepted their fate.

“But you’re not going to try?” Moira asked.

“We have plans in place but we need time to figure out our best course of action.”

There was not a doubt in her mind that she would go there herself to find them. Even if she had to go against her brothers wishes, Moira would not live with herself if she wasn’t the one to make the tough, irrational decision to go and at least try whether they were alive or not.

Turning on her heels, Moira didn’t even spare the Witcher a glance as she left the room in silence.

Once alone, her imagination got the best of her as she pictured Rotty and Orin buried under the snow, frozen to death by now or worse, torn up by an ice giant she’s only ever read stories about. Tears pricked her eyes, but she swatted them away as the plan unfolded in her mind. By the time she got back to her room though, she hadn’t realized she was being followed until she went to her wardrobe and saw the Witcher standing in her doorway.

“Nice room.” Geralt said, leaning upon the door frame with his arms crossed. “Do you really think you are going to take on an ice giant on your own and save your friends even if they’re alive.”

Moira wanted to ignore him, in no mood to hear a lecture that anyone else would give her at any given time. She raided her closet for the clothes she would often wear when searching for Drowners at night with her friends and goes behind the tall, wood bordered screen to change.

“I know Witcher’s don’t have many friends, and quite honestly, I do not have many myself, but I will be damned if my brother thinks he can take his time constructing a plan before sending another crew out. Hell will freeze over before I lose them.”

Aggressively, she switched out of her clothes and into her new ones, hands shaking as she did so and not wanting to think of what faces Geralt was making on the other side of the screen.

“I don’t doubt your ability to freeze hell over, Princess.”

Groaning, she peaked her head out from behind the screen. “Moira. And I could do without the snide comments.”

As she finished changing, she quickly added, “You can play hero and tattle to my brothers about me all you’d like, Geralt but I am going no matter what anyone else has to say.”

“I don’t have to tell your brothers because I already offered my services to solve this problem.”

Moira froze for a moment, stepping out from behind the screen, watching as he came further into her room.

“I suppose you didn’t mention I would be tagging along, did you?”

The Witcher frowned at her, arms dropping at his sides.

“You can’t fight a monster on this scale.”

“And you can’t sail a ship as far as I am concerned.”

Moira reached behind her bed to grab her sword, as well as her new bow and arrow which clearly impressed him.

“I suppose you’re not going to take no for an answer?” Geraly asked.

“You can’t tell a princess no, Geralt.”

There was a pit embedded in her stomach from the moment she woke up, and it made her feel sick now knowing that lying and sneaking behind her brothers’ backs to this extent was not something she’s ever done before. But as she stared at the Witcher, there was a mutual understanding and despite the way this tore her apart, Moira couldn’t help but acknowledge that this thrilled her more than anything.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x OC #geralt of rivia x OC #the witcher x OC

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loousir · 3 years

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Soulmates {Oikawa Tooru}

Oikawa Tooru x Male Reader Part One

Anime: Haikyuu!!

Warnings: I dont think there is any?

Masterlist | Part Two

AU: Soulmates can have a different way of finding their partner. Yours is after both partners are at least 18, on the youngers birthday, they will swap bodies. They have to share their first of something together in order to return to their respective body. (Ex. Sharing their first kiss, first drink etc.)(If one has already kissed or shared a drink, for example, it wont count as sharing a first) Oikawa's is knowing what their first words to you are.

Originally Posted on February 2, 2021

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Today was finally your birthday. That meant that you would get to find out who your soulmate was. You were nervous but knew about it so you were prepared. A little.

You were getting dressed to go to school today and thankfully it was the end of the week so you'd have all weekend to find your soulmate. What nice and convenient timing. You did your morning routine before getting changed into your uniform. After pulling up you striped brown pants and adjusting your white jacket, you slipped the red tie around your neck before grabbing your things and heading downstairs.

You said a quick goodbye to your mom after stealing a toaster waffle and your lunch. You slipped on your shoes and headed out to school.

On the way there, you ran into Iwaizumi and Oikawa. You were very good acquaintances but not close enough to consider friends, like hanging at each others houses kind of friends. You and Iwaizumi shared class together but the three of you almost always walked to school together.

"Happy birthday (Y/n)-kun! You're finally 18 right?" Oikawa asked, slinging his arm around your shoulder and leaning on your slightly smaller frame. He poked your cheek gently as you ate, trying to get a reply out of you. "Shittykawa, cant you see he's eating something? Let him chew first." Oikawa pouted slightly at his "nickname" and sighed.

You finished chewing and nodded. "Yeah, I'm 18 today. I'll find out who my soulmate is tomorrow and I really hope it isn't you." You said in a serious tone as the three of you continued walking to Aoba Johsai. Oikawa whined on the way there with Iwaizumi butting in to shut him up.

The trio finally made it to school and went their separate ways, aka you and Iwaizumi in one and Oikawa right next door.

---

The day started and went on normally til lunch.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa usually go to their practice but today they invited you to eat with them. You accepted not exactly knowing why.

"So (Y/n)-kun~ Who do you think is your soulmate?" You shrugged as you ate your bento, glancing up at Oikawa. "You really wanna know?" You asked taking another bite. Oikawa nodded as he ate his own bento. Iwaizumi smirked over to you as he ate his lunch as well. "You should tell him (L/n)-san."

"I hope it turns out to be Kageyama."

Oikawa practically snorted out his drink and stared at you in shock. "You cant be serious?! Him?!" You laughed at the water running down his face and shook your head. You grabbed a napkin you had and wiped the pretty setters face. "Of course not."

Oikawa let out a sigh of relief. "I'd want Daichi to be my soulmate." You said in a dreamy tone as Oikawa choked on his rice. Iwaizumi had nothing today besides laughing at the scene in front of him. Oikawa leaned on his good knee over to you and gripped your shoulders. He shook you gently as he cried, saying something about 'anyone but the wingless crows.'

Iwaizumi pulled him off you after a minute and scolded him. You finished up your bento and checked your phone. There was 40 minutes of lunch left when you looked to the best friends. "So, what did you guys invite me to hang for?" Iwaizumi looked over to you and tilted his head slightly. "Are we not allowed to invite a friend to hang out?"

You leaned back on your hands and closed your eyes, letting your head fall backwards. "You are, it's just, weird. The Cap and vice Cap of the volleyball team invite a lowly art club member to hang out at lunch together. Sounds a bit odd doesnt it?"

Iwaizumi nodded and Oikawa didnt respond. You lifted your head up to see Oikawa a bit of a distance away, surrounded by a flock of girls. "Its your turn to pull him away. I'm gonna go check something." You sighed and stood up.

"Hey, shittykawa." Oikawa instantly turned around at the nickname and his fan girls became upset with you calling him that. "(Y/n)-kun~ You're taking after Iwaizumiii~" He said walking over to you. "And we were supposed to be hanging out." You said acting all coy. "You promised me we would this morning..." You whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

The girls were jealous and talking amongst themselves as Oikawa just looking at you, shocked. He had a deep blush covering his cheeks as you folded your hands together in front of you and looked to the ground with a pout. "(Y/n)-kun..." You looked up to him with puppy dog eyes. He suddenly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug.

"(Y/N)-KUN! IM SO SORRY!" He said as if he actually forgot he promised you to hang out. You smiled and giggled, gently prying him off of you. You grabbed his hand and started to walk with him. "C'mon. Let's go back to our spot." You said as you watched the lady flock disperse. Oikawa followed along, apologizing for forgetting a promise he never made.

Once the two of you were alone you sighed and let go of his hand. "Oikawa." He shut up and looked up to you with teary eyes. "You didnt promise me we'd hang out. Its ok." You may be mean to Oikawa but theres something about him that you love. You just cant be mean to him all the time... Ok yes you can but sometimes you want to be nice to him.

Oikawa smiled and pulled you into a hug again. You cautiously hugged back and patted his back. The bell signaling lunch was over rang and the two of you pulled away. "I'll stop by the gym after school to say a quick goodbye." You said grabbing yours and Iwaizumis stuff. Oikawa nodded and grabbed his stuff as well. He had a big smile on his face for some reason but you just brushed it off.

The rest of the day passed by pretty quickly. You had told Iwaizumi about stopping for a quick bye and he said, "Just be prepared for Oikawa." You didnt exactly know what the meant because you always were but before you could ask he had left for practice.

Once you were ready, you head down to the gym and pulled open the door. The lights were off and you furrowed your brows. "I thought there was practice today..." You mumbled to yourself.

Suddenly the lights turned on to show they gym and the volleyball team to be all dressed in nice birthday attire. You only stared shocked at the scene in front of you as the all shouted, "Surprise!" Oikawa appeared in front of your vision with a wide grin on his face and a small gift in his hand.

You blinked a few times and looked up to his eyes before looking to Iwaizumi who was approaching the two of you. "Y-you guys... Did this for me?" You asked, still surprised by what happened. Iwaizumi shrugged and tilted his head to the side saying 'kinda.' "It was Oikawa's idea."

Oikawa smiled and grabbed one of your hands, putting the gift in it. Iwaizumi put a party hat on your head before walking over to a table full of sweets and a cake. "Can I talk to you outside for a second?" You asked Oikawa. He smiled and lead the two of you outside the gym and away from prying ears.

"What did you wanna talk to me about?" You held the gift in your hand and pulled him into a tight hug. He stood tense for a moment before hugging back. "What's this for?" Oikawa asked with a small laugh. You buried your head in his chest and started to tremble slightly. He demeanor changed when he felt his shirt get slightly wet. "H-hey, (Y/n)? Are you ok?"

You nodded and kept hugging him. He hugged back and gently stroked the back of your head. "No ones ever done something like this before. So it's kinda a lot." You said clearly, having calmed down from your previous state. Oikawa laughed and pulled the two of you away to look you in the eyes.

"Really? Well then I'll have to step it up next time!" You smiled up to him softly before sadly looking down to your shoes. "I'm nervous Kawa..." His smile fades away to a sigh. "Me too." You look up to him in confusion. "I... Really hope tomorrow, I'll wake up in your body, Tooru..." He looks to your eyes and he has tears in this.

Dont ruin this moment shittykawa

"Me too."

You look up to him and smile a little. "C'mon, let's go back inside and par-tay a little before it's too late!" Oikawa said with a smile as he dragged you back inside. You saw Iwaizumi standing by a punch bowl with a knowing smirk but you didnt think much of it.

---

Everyone had hung around and "par-tay"-ed till about 7pm. They decided to call it there and start cleaning up. You tried to help but both Oikawa and Iwaizumi stopped you. "Why dont you and Oikawa head back first? The least we can do is clean up."

"But you guys did all this for me, I have to try to help even a little." Iwaizumi put your things over your shoulder and pushed you to an already raring to go Oikawa. "Just head home. Its ok." Oikawa gently grabbed your hand but you stopped and addressed the whole team.

They had paused to look at you and listen. You bowed and thanked them, your bow hiding the tears in your eyes. You stood up straight and smiled to them before going with an impatient Oikawa.

---

The walk to your home was filled with comfortable conversation about the party. "Hey, (Y/n)-kun? Could we have a sleepover at your house?" You looked up to him and tilted your head slightly. "Like the whole team? That's a lot of people and I dont know if my parents would even let me since there away right now-"

"No, not the whole team. Just us." You blushed at what he said and looked away, slightly embarrassed for rambling. "Oh... J-just the two of us?" He nodded and you just shrugged. "I-I guess thats... Ok. I dont think they'll mind." You said rubbing the back of your neck. "Let's goo then!" Oikawa said, dragging you to your house.

Once you two arrived, you unlocked the door and let him in. "Your house is so much bigger on the inside." He said looking around. "Wow thanks." He laughed, "I didnt mean it in a bad way!" You rolled your eyes and walked upstairs to your room thinking, "How the fuck does this dude make me flustered so easily..."

You didnt even realize Oikawa had followed you, thinking he would just stay downstairs for the time being. When you turned around to close the door you jumped at his presence. "I-Im gonna change so you can just hang out downstairs till I'm done." He smiled and gently rubbed the back of his head before asking, "Do you think I could use your shower actually?"

"Oh, yeah, go for it. It's the door behind you." You said pointing over his shoulder. He thanked you as you got him a towel he could use. You closed the door to your room and got changed into some comfy pjs. The shower could be heard through your door but you didnt mind and decided to make yourself comfortable on your bed and watch some tv.

After a few minutes, the shower turned off and after another couple minutes, the door opening to reveal a shirtless Oikawa wearing sweatpants. You looked over only to look away just as fast. Oikawa smirked and jumped into the bed with you. You squeaked a very manly squeak as he hovered over you.

Your eyes looked up to his but couldn't be stopped when they looked at his chest. 'A tattoo?' You looked back up to him and asked, "You have a tattoo? Since when?" He just smiled and shook his head. "Since I was like twelve. Look what it says." He said sitting the two of you up. Oikawa was basically sitting on your lap but you didnt mind.

'You're in the way, stupid trashcan.'

It was written in beautiful cursive. You smiled and tried not to laugh but couldn't help it. Oikawa watched as the love of his life laughed at the first words he ever said to him.

"I said that when we first met! Did you really get it tattooed on your chest?" Oikawa rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Its illegal to get a tattoo when your twelve." You tilted your head slightly. "Then how did you get it?" He looked at you unamused before becoming nervous. This made you nervous too as he laid the both of you down in your bed.

"(Y/n)... Did you study soulmates?" You nodded and asked why. "Theres a chapter about two soulmates having different ways of finding eachother." You nodded again and tried to process the information but he spoke again. "Mine was the first words they say to you are tattooed somewhere on your body."

You looked at him and fully processed everything. It clicked. "Is that why you... Did all this stuff for me over the last year? W-why didn't you say something sooner?" He glanced out the window and seemed nervous again. "Theres a chance that you can actually have a different soulmate than me..." You furrowed your brows and sat up to look at him.

He didnt look at you and just glanced out the window. "What do you mean by that?" He looked over to you and directly in your eyes. "When we both have different ways of meeting our soulmate, theres a chance that you could have a different soulmate even though you're mine."

"That means when we wake up tomorrow... I wouldn't be hugging you, but your soulmate... And... I dont want that."

Oikawa looked away and you just looked at him shocked. "You're so weird out of character." You said leaning down and pulling him into a hug, laying on top of him in the process. "I'm being serious y'know..." You nod and nuzzle your face into his neck.

"I know. I dont want something like that to happen either." He shifted so that he could look at you properly and cupped your face. His eyes held clear care and adoration.

"Let's sleep now, and if I dont wake up to you tomorrow... I'll find you ok?"

--- 2552 Not proof read too well

#m4m #mxm #x male reader #oikawa x male reader #oikawa toru x male reader #oikawa tooru x male reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Text

Day 7: Free Day / AUs - Lies

To her left was Jade, and to her right was Crowley. Something was definitely wrong with this picture.

Awkward “family” dinner time~

jnjadaafiabasd I was not built to do timed prompts... Everything felt rushed or not fully proofread, but I tried my best with what little time I had! 🎉 This last week was a bit of a struggle, but I’m proud of myself for pulling through in the end!

A flurry of footsteps reverberated through the Crowley household. Raven hurtled down a stairwell and practically threw herself at the front door, flinging it open. Beyond the door, a masked man and his suitcases awaited.

“Uncle!! You’re back!!” she cried breathily—tired from the dash from the attic to the front porch.

“Hohoh.” Crowley lowered the golden key in his hand. “You’ve beaten me to the punch, it seems.”

“It helps when I’ve got a big window to spy from.” Raven grimaced as talons wove themselves into her hair and raked along her scalp. Her head was left a mess, hair sticking up at odd angles. “How was your trip?”

“There will be plenty of time for stories—you do so love those, don’t you? Just give me a moment to get settled back and have a bite first, little black bird.”

“Okay!” Raven chirped. She eagerly reached for a suitcase. “Here, I’ll he—”

“Please, allow me.”

Her fingers met only air, for the suitcase was snatched up before she could make contact. The other was claimed just as quickly, ending up in the hands of a slimy, smiling eel.

“... Jade Leech-kun.”

“Headmaster.” Jade lowered his head in mock deference. “It is a pleasure to have you back with us. I do hope your conference fared well.”

Crowley’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “You’ll not hear a single peep from me!”

“My, my. You’ve entrusted me with handling your home and your niece in your absence, but not with casual conversation? Truly, I am hurt.”

(Raven shot Jade a warning look, but it went ignored.)

“Leave my bags, and leave us be. Your services are no longer required,” the headmaster crowed. He dug into his pockets and produced a (wrinkled) checkbook and gold-plated fountain pen. “Name your price.”

“I believe that is a value that would be best negotiated with Azul—but worry not, I am not personally interested in your madol.”

... That’s obviously a sketchy thing to say, especially for Octavinelle. They always collect what they’re owed, Raven noted. What does he have up his sleeve now?

Jade’s shoulders suddenly sagged, and a sad smile made its way onto his face. “It is a shame, though... to be chased out before I was able to share my cooking with our esteemed headmaster. It brings a tear to my eye.”

Crowley’s ears perked up—while Raven’s stomach sank.

“Cooking, you say?”

“U-Uncle, don’t fall for it...! He’s baiting you!!” Raven hissed, tugging harshly on his cape.

“I had plans to prepare an extravagant feast, too,” Jade continued, “to welcome you home. A hearty wild game stew, garnished with garden herbs. Fresh baked bread, with a thick crust, perfect for mopping up excess stew. Braised duck in a bright citrus sauce, so succulent and tender that the meat falls off at the bone. Mint gelée on the side—”

“I’m listening...” Crowley’s beady eyes narrowed with vague suspicion. “And just how much would this hypothetical feast cost me?”

“Don’t listen to him, Uncle!!”

“Fufu. There is no need to concern yourself with such trivial matters. Consider it a gift from myself to you.”

“UNCLE!!” Raven screeched—but her frantic calls no longer reached him.

The headmaster was far gone, lured to the water’s edge by a siren’s song. Plastering a wide grin on his face, Crowley spread his arms.

“Jade Leech-kun, why don’t you join us for dinner?”

Raven slowly lowered her face into her hands.

To her left was Jade, and to her right was Crowley. Something was definitely wrong with this picture.

Raven glared into her platter of food, refusing to look at either of them. She poked at a slab of meat with her fork, watching the shine of fat dance. Did that glisten belong to a tasteless poison, or to a savory glaze?

Well, the other meals he prepared were safe. This should be fine too... right? Raven carefully inserted a corner into her mouth and tore off a chunk.

Crowley let out a delighted laugh from his seat. “Delicious! Simply delicious!! You’ve outdone yourself with this meal.”

“I am glad to hear that you enjoy it, headmaster.” Jade was handling his silverware a little too deftly for Raven’s liking, driving a knife into his steak with the skill and precision of a predator digging its teeth into vital arteries. And still, that polite smile remained.

She stared—and it did not go unnoticed.

While the headmaster continued to gush, Jade lifted his eyes to meet Raven’s. His smile turned decidedly less kind for a few moments, taunting her. How easily he had infiltrated the home and gotten her guardian wrapped around his finger. It was maddening.

“Miss Raven, you haven’t touched your food,” Jade pointed out.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I am merely advising that you look after your own health and wellbeing,” Jade insisted. “And to think you were so eager to consume my cooking when it was just the two of us...”

“Sh-Shut up...!! I... I can’t help that I’m not used to unwanted guests at the table!”

“Now, now, Raven-kun!” Crowley waved his fork at his niece. “Jade Leech-kun has provided a number of useful services during my absence. We should be more grateful to to have such a helpful young man with us!”

“Do I need to remind you that this same ‘helpful’ young man also ‘helped’ Azul enslave over 200 students?”

“That was then, this is now!”

... You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Yes, I do believe the headmaster is correct. Let us leave the past in the past.”

“As soon as you leave, I’ll gladly purge the events of last week from my mind.” Raven turned to Crowley. “Uncle! I’m no longer a child. The next time you need to leave, you needn’t call for a babysitter—I can take care of myself!”

“Hmm...” The headmaster glanced helplessly between his half-eaten dinner and his niece’s pleasing eyes. “We shall see what comes, given the circumstances.”

Raven sighed—still not fully satisfied with the answer, but unable to wean anything better out of him.

She jabbed her fork into a cherry tomato and chomped down hard on it. Her fangs pierced the red skin, sending some juice squirting onto her cheek. Raven wiped at it with a napkin, then continued to angrily munch on the tomato to vent her frustration.

The clinking of silverware filled the dining room. The air, stiff as stale bread. Crowley coughed—attempting to alleviate the tense atmosphere, but to little success.

“So,” the headmaster began, “did anything interesting happen while I was at the conference?”

“... We argued a lot,” Raven replied flatly. She tactfully left out several details, knowing that she would turn as red as the cherry tomato if she elaborated.

“I did learn quite a few interesting facts during my stay.”

Crowley glanced up from his plate, arching an eyebrow at the eel. “Such as...?”

“Oh, a great many things. For example, how a glittering object catches Miss Raven’s eye, the messiness of her quarters, her midnight musings, the odd manner in which she sleeps...”

Crowley (who had been peacefully inhaling his dinner up until that point) almost choked on a piece of bread. “E-EXCUSE ME?! I don’t recall granting you permission to enter the attic—”

“Wait, you didn’t?” Raven’s brows furrowed. “Then why...”

... Oh.

Another lie.

All along, it had been a lie.

Crowley’s panic, Raven’s confusion—neither seemed to faze Jade. He simply smiled, as collected as ever. Like he had planned this all along, she realized.

“I’m afraid that Miss Raven allowed me in of her own accord. Fufu. I am pleased that she has grown to trust my presence within her private quarters.”

“Is this true, Raven-kun?!”

“Er...” She shrunk back into her seat, wishing she could vanish into her feathered shawl. “I-It was an honest mistake... I didn’t mean to...”

“You know better than that, young lady!!” Crowley chided. “How many times must I warn you to keep shady characters out of your room?!”

“But Jade said--”

“Headmaster, you cannot blame her entirely,” the eel cut in smoothly. “Part of the fault lies with me, as well.”

He’s... confessing? That’s weird.

“I had to deliver her meal, since she refused to eat at the dining room table. Once I saw the state that the attic was in, I sought to return in the subsequent days to assist with cleaning it up. There were also times when I came to check in on Miss Raven, as she has a habit of staying up late into the night. They were all measures I took to ensure her health and comfort, at the cost of breaking a rule--and for that, I must apologize.”

“Oh?” Crowley rested his chin in a taloned hand. “Rule breaking aside, I must commend you for taking action. Putting others’ wellbeing above your own... Perhaps I initially misjudged your character, Jade Leech-kun!”

“I live to serve.”

“How very admirable of you! Yes, yes,” Crowley nodded enthusiastically, “I can rely on such a responsible youth to look after you in the future, Raven-kun!”

“H-Huh? No, no!! He’s definitely still every bit as shady as you thought he was!!” she protested, leaping to her feet and thrusting an accusing finger at Jade. “He’s just lying again...!! He always lies!!”

“Oya, Miss Raven... It’s not healthy for you to become so worked up.” Jade hid his mouth behind his hand--no doubt that his teeth would otherwise be on full display in a cruel grin. “Here, have some more mashed potatoes--I’ve infused them with garlic. This should help temper your blood pressure.”

“I don’t want your stupid mashed potatoes...!!”

Oblivious to the tension in the room, Crowley lifted his glass up and laughed. “Hohoh! It’s nice to see Raven-kun socializing with her peers.”

#twst #Dire Crowley #Jade Leech #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #disney twisted wonderland #twst oc week #Raven Crowley #my art

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vegalocity · 3 years

Note

Happier version of Tripsun, time travel nonsense where LMK Sun Wukong meets post-journey Sanzang with General 6?

Dialogue starters

6. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

ah hell yeah

Every time he’d be allowed to share moments like this with his former Master, Sun Wukong would say to himself that he could never forget how at ease he could feel. How warm his chest was and the faint sweet shivers that would crawl up his spine and make his fur fluff out could never fade.

And yet every time it was allotted to him again it felt like new.

Perhaps because of how long it had been since their journey, but those random times his Monkeys would inform him someone was nearing the mountain, and when he’d poke his head out in bird form and see that golden light, made his gut jolt and heat to flood his face and neck as though he were some adolescent with a crush.

Of course he’d roll out the welcome wagon (just modest enough that Tang Sanzang wouldn’t chide him for being a showoff even after everything, but could easily be passed off as his Monkeys being as excited as he was to welcome the monk back to the island) and lay out as much food as he could get away with without again, his master scolding him for extravagance and sparing him only a few small knowing smiles over the feast of mountain fruits.

And they’d catch up of course, over food, over tea, and then just sitting somewhere pretty, His master would extoll him the stories of his new students, comparing and contrasting them to his first merry band of disciples (usually a coy smile hidden beneath a sleeve as he said someone or another was just as hard to handle at first as he had been) but a strikingly proud gleam in his smile as he praised students he wouldn’t dare speak aloud to their faces to avoid the building of ego) And Wukong would extoll the current drama of his monkeys and how this or that dispute was brought to him over plums or some other such simple yet silly thing. Truly the stories he had left to tell weren’t near as extravagant as the battles he once went on five hundred years ago, but his master always responded to the comings and goings of Flower Fruit Mountain with as much interest and immersion as he would the mightiest of battles.

And then came the moments when the stories finally ran dry and the two were allowed to simply be in eachothers presence, usually spent meditating on his master’s part while Wukong simply lounged about or read or just sat quietly with his master, enjoying the company in a way the outside world had grown far too bright and fast and loud for.

But this visit was different.

He’d woken up on the mountain, which was strange granted they were li upon li away (Kilometers, they use kilometers now) and his Monkeys were rushing up to him shrieking in fear and panic, hooting and hollering and demanding his attention to an assumed intruder.

He’d been suspicious of course, he’d anticipated anything, the calabash, an illusion, something that would REALLY need his truth seeing eyes (using them had started giving him wicked headaches; his power was so close to gone) but the golden light had already faded when he came outside, ready to fight-

And his eyes fell upon a familiar figure on the sandy shore.

And then he could only hope this was an illusion, as the idea of somehow being transported back home right in time for Master to put himself so close to the danger of the Lady Bone Demon again made his hackles rise. So despite the pounding headache that started the second he summoned the power he gazed around them with golden eyes, gliding over his master’s buzzing cicada wings, his monkeys peering at him curiously, and focusing his gaze to the city-

-where there was neither the silhouette of the skull nor the grid-like patterns of an illusion’s edge. Nor even the city itself.

There was a town, sure, but not a city. A town that had been in the… sixteen hundreds or so? About a century after he’d sealed the Demon Bull King away and dropped in on master to tell him he was considering retiring, that he’d be on his mountain if he needed him, and he was always welcome if he wanted to visit.

And about a century after that, Tang Sanzang had taken him up on the offer. And there he was.

This was the first visit. The throbbing pain in his head proclaimed this as not a dream, the golden vision proclaimed this not an illusion or a trick. This simply… had happened. He had replaced his (slightly) younger self for a time, and this was where he was. The first time.

Maybe this wasn’t for him so much as it was for the others, being given a past version of himself with his powers still in tact, Maybe his past self could protect them all in a way he no longer could.

His monkeys were giving the monk a wide berth and he watched him look around, normally serene expression slightly crumpled as he looked for a path up the mountain. At this point he could easily appear there with a flick of the wrist, but his master never believed in the easy way (except when it came to riding Longma for the entire journey, but he bullied him enough about that as is)

He called a couple of his monkey generals to him and gestured to the beach. “We’ve got a treasured guest here boys, bring out some of our best fruits! The monk drinks no wine so our most potent teas as well!” The two chittered between each other and saluted him. Ah… he missed when his monkeys could much easier take orders.

“Why if my eyes don’t deceive me! Is this the virtuous Tang Monk I spy? The carrier of the Tripitaka himself? Why if any demon consumed his flesh it is said they’d become immortal!” He crowed, and watched as his master quickly covered his mouth with a hand, suppressing a laugh before schooling his expression back into the unimpressed line.

“It seems as though I've wandered to another mountain full of dangerous demons.” he stated, monotone and dry, but playful grin quickly betraying the tone. “If only I had some gallant disciple to protect me from the oncoming dangers”

Sun Wukong tumbled from the trees and gave a mock bow. “Say no more virtuous monk! No demon worth their salt can stand a fight against I, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven!” there was a pause.

And then his master’s laugh was all he heard. It took him a second to join in, taking a hairdsbreath too long to enjoy the sound, but soon enough he was escorting the monk up to his home.

He had barely been able to wait to tell his Master about Xiaotian, and yet here he was having to avoid the boy’s name entirely while he searched to remember stories and drama from the monkeys four hundred years ago. He mentioned briefly that he was considering taking on a successor but hadn’t decided on it yet. His master told his own stories and He found himself possibly enjoying it a bit too much, Master had only recently passed by his thousand year mark of being immortal and he had still not quite gotten the hang of it yet. All the same he was doing his best and it was nostalgic to watch him try so hard to maintain what came easily to him in the future.

Then the stories ran dry and he gestured for his master to follow him, and reached his favorite spot on the mountainside, it overlooked the town that would soon become a city and they’d have the best fireworks. He didn’t share that information with master, but it didn’t matter, just his presence was enough.

But before he could vanish into the ‘somehow always like new’ feeling, Tang Sanzang turned to him with a worried eye.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” It was a question he didn’t remember being asked on that first visit, one that took him aback.

“What do you mean, Master? I’m fine.”

“Bad Monkey, don’t bother lying to me, you keep wincing as though you’re in pain and you can take beatings that would make mountains crumble into ravines! You keep rubbing at your fur as though there are wounds that are still healing beneath when it takes so much just to pierce your flesh! Was your fight with the Bull King really so intense that your wounds act up even a century later or are you concealing other things from me?” damn those perceptive eyes. He didn’t USED to be perceptive, he used to fall for basically every demon trick!

Then again, he probably wasn’t doing too great at covering up the lingering wounds on his body either.

“I’m fine master, I’m sure everything will be back to normal when i’ve rested some.”

Well that was the exact wrong thing to say as he watched the Monk’s face pale. “Have I been keeping you from rest? Oh, you fool of an ape you should have told me!” Tang Sanzang turned to face him properly and for a moment Sun Wukong’s brain short circuited entirely as he placed soft hands on either of his cheeks to cup his face. “I can return at any time! If you’re injured you shouldn’t feel pressured to remain in my company!”

“I want to be in your company.” It came out in a way he wouldn’t have been able to mask the adoring warmth to, no matter how hard he tried. “Master, I enjoy nothing quite as much as I do our quiet moments together.” He had to go visit him himself upon returning to his time, he’d forgotten just how much he could miss the monk once again.

Tang Sanzang huffed and it seemed like that had at least turned his upset into more garden variety aggravation. “Bad monkey…” He shook his head, and in the dim light of sunset it almost seemed as though his master’s cheeks turned a pink shade of their own before he brought his hands down to take Sun Wukongs in his own, and stood. “Well if you feel so strongly about that then clearly I’m going to have to see to your recovery myself.” The monk looked off to the side and a small smile came with a featherlight chuckle. “How strange, a near reverse of how things once were between us.”

He chuckled as well at the irony and watched his master’s grin widen. “Indeed. Well, if you insist, I shall submit myself to your fucking fretting, baldy.”

Now THAT got a real laugh. and a soft 'Language!' between chuckles.

He’d get summoned back to his own time when Past Him was done doing whatever heavy lifting he’d gotten too weak to be able to handle no doubt. But for now he didn’t see the harm in enjoying the peacetime as it lasted.

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

and the void looked back to say i love you (Part One)

A/N: did i write a whole fic inspired by the time phil surfed the void in osmp and then soon after that kristin sent in a tts saying "i love you"? yes. yes i did. (I'm aiming to update this every saturday until its done)

Warnings: brief violence mentions, implied/referenced character death (none of the osmp members, just random people), kristin has some mild eldritch horror moments (but it’s barely that she’s just a spooky lady)

Summary: All Kristin had known was all-consuming darkness. Not that she particularly minded it, the Void was her domain. But then along comes Philza, and her life is filled with light in the form of laughter and twinkling eyes. (Alternatively, five times Phil visited Kristin in the Void and one time she came up to the Overworld.)

Masterpost

The first time Kristin met Phil, he was flying along the roof of her domain, laughing and cheering as a murder of crows flew close behind him, cawing in a cacophony of distress and elation. She was confused by the birdlike man- not by the fact that he seemed to be part bird, but by the fact that there was someone even near the void at all.

"Why don't we dip down and touch the void? Just for a second," she heard the man say to his crows, who responded with squawks of terror. She watched, intrigued as the man began to dive down with a hand outstretched, the crows cawing their dissent all the while. His fingers brushed through the inky nothingness, the darkness of her domain creeping up his wrist- and then with a powerful flap of his wings he wrenched himself free of the void's grip. Taking on a physical form, she poked her head up out of the void to gaze at the man with wide eyes. She had never seen someone escape the grip of her domain before. And if she hadn't been intrigued before, she was certainly intrigued now.

“I’m fine guys, see? The void didn’t-” the man stopped midway through consoling his crows as he turned midair and locked eyes with Kristin. He looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He nearly started falling towards the void again, but quickly caught himself and hovered above Kristin. The crows circled around the man, cawing in a mix of alarm and excitement.

“Hello,” Kristin called out, a little unused to speaking but excited to have the chance to. The man let out a startled squawk in response, nearly unbalancing himself in the air but still managed to stay aloft.

“You can talk?!” the man cried out in surprise. Kristin tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“You can talk,” she said pointedly. The man let out a laugh, shaking his head in mild embarrassment.

“Good point. I just… didn’t think you were real. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me or some shit,” the man replied, still chuckling a bit. Kristin laughed along with him, and the man’s expression turned into something both mildly terrified and hopelessly endeared.

“What’s that look for?” Kristin asked, head tilting to the side in confusion. The man flushed slightly, and the crows’ caws took on a more teasing tone.

“Your laugh is uh- kind of unsettling, echoing through the void and all. But it’s also kinda charming in a way,” the man said with a bashful smile. The crows’ caws grew louder as they seemed to heckle the man, and he swatted at them in annoyance, muttering something about how he was not blushing.

“I think you’re kind of charming too,” Kristin said sweetly. That sent the crows into a tizzy, and the man’s expression lit up with a grin. Kristin decided she liked seeing the birdlike man smile.

“My name’s Philza, most people call me Phil though,” he said, reaching out his hand for half a second as if he intended to shake Kristin’s hand, but then promptly realized that he couldn’t even see Kristin’s hands. She chuckled good-naturedly, then drew herself up from the void to be more level with Phil. He was much smaller than she had thought, in fact her hand was bigger than his whole body.

“I’m the Queen of the Void, but if I were to know any people, they’d call me Kristin,” she replied, holding out her hand to Phil. He flew back a bit in surprise, then gave a sheepish smile and reached out to awkwardly pat her finger instead of attempting to shake her hand.

“It’s lovely to meet you- hold on, let me find an opening up there to rest on, my wings are getting tired,” Phil said, beginning to glide away.

“You can rest on my hand if you’d like! I promise I won’t pull you into the void, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in… well, ever, I think,” Kristin offered, holding out her hand palm up. A few of Phil’s crows flew to rest in her hand, cawing up at her in greeting. Phil looked a little skeptical still, but seeing as his crows were alright, he flew down to sit cross-legged in her palm.

“Thank you. I get tired a little quicker when I’m away from the sky,” he explained.

“Then why come down here at all?” Kristin asked. Phil shrugged.

“I was exploring, saw an opening to the void and decided to explore. In all my traveling, I’ve never seen access to the void through the Overworld,” he replied.

“But you’ve seen the void before?”

“Yes, when I was very young. The place I came from was just an island in the void.”

“Then why are you here? In the ‘Overworld,’ as you put it,” Kristin asked. Phil frowned in thought, a dark, mournful expression taking over his face for a few moments before he shook his head. “It’s… a long story,” Phil said, something dark taking over his previous cheerful tone.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, I didn’t mean to pry,” Kristin said hurriedly, something in her stomach twisting uncomfortably at making her new friend upset. Phil patted her hand reassuringly, giving a weak smile.

“It’s alright, I just don’t talk about it much… mostly because I don’t have many to talk about it to. Anyway, something… bad had happened, on the island. I don’t remember much, but what I do know is that people had come in big ships and attacked my home. Myself and some others managed to fly away to try and escape through the portal the people had made to get to our world… but I was the only one that made it out before something happened on the other end, and the portal shut down,” Phil explained, the smile he had managed before slowly slipping off of his face as he talked. One of his crows resting on his shoulder hopped over to nuzzle his cheek, and Phil gently scritched the bird’s head with a wistful smile.

“I’m very sorry to hear that. It’s terrible, what happened to you,” Kristin said, wishing there was something more she could do than just offer condolences. Phil merely shrugged.

“Not your fault, not mine either. It just… happened, I guess. For a while I tried to find a way back, tried to relight the portal or find a different one- but no luck. Decided to just travel and explore instead,” Phil said.

“Sounds like a rather lonely adventure,” Kristin replied.

“Oh it’s not that lonely, I’ve got my crows after all. They just sorta started following me around- I’m pretty sure they think I’m a giant crow, since they call me ‘Dadza’ sometimes,” Phil said with a chuckle. The crows squawked indignantly, seemingly arguing among themselves and with Phil.

“They talk?” Kristin asked, frowning as she listened to the crows a little closer, but couldn’t make out any words amongst the chaos.

“I mean… not exactly, but I do understand what their caws mean,” Phil explained. Kristin raised an eyebrow.

“So… you are a giant crow, then,” she said with a wry smile. The crows ceased their argumentative cawing for a moment to look at Kristin, then back at Phil, before they started a ruckus of excited caws.

“Look what you’ve done, you’ve gone and encouraged their chaos,” Phil huffed, crossing his arms and looking very disgruntled as a murder of crows hopped and fluttered around him, cawing in excitement all the while. Kristin couldn’t help it- she laughed.

“Sorry. I did think you were a bird when I first saw you down here,” Kristin said sheepishly.

“Well… you’re not wrong, I am birdlike in some ways, but I think a giant crow is a bit of an oversimplification,” Phil replied.

“But an accurate oversimplification,” Kristin countered with a grin. Phil threw his head back and groaned, although it morphed into a laugh at the end, and Kristin couldn’t help but join in and laugh as well.

#mcyt #osmp #mcyt fic #osmp fic #philza #osmp philza #mumza #void!kristin #fluff #sage writes

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the-badger-mole · 4 years

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Traditional

“You scared?”

Zuko’s mouth pulled down slightly at the corners, but after years of practicing diplomacy and his uncle’s lessons on holding his temper, that was the only show of Zuko’s displeasure.

“I have no reason to be afraid,” he said. He quirked his brow at Katara and met her gaze pointedly. “According to you.” Katara shrugged, though it was difficult to tell under her heavy, fur lined parka.

“Well, Dad and Sokka already like you,” she reminded him.”It’s just everyone else you have to convince.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, wishing that the Southern Water Tribe was like...well any place else in the world. Having the Chief and his heir on his side would have been enough in literally any other country in the world. But this wasn’t anywhere in the world. This was the Southern Water Tribe. Their numbers were still small after all this time, and they were fiercely loyal to each other. Families were intimately involved in each others’ lives. Beside him, Katara nudged him gently. He felt the comforting pressure of it through his own thick parka.

“You’re going to be fine,” she promised, flashing him a reassuring smile.

Her eyes were full of trust and confidence, and it bolstered Zuko’s own. But only just slightly. After all, he was about to ask her entire extended family for their blessing to marry her. It was...daunting.

“What if...what if they don’t like this?” Zuko asked. Katara shrugged with a bravado that Zuko knew she didn’t feel.

“I already said yes,” she said. “I’m old enough to make my own choices. Dad, Sokka and Gran Gran will understand. If anyone else has a problem with it...well, we just won’t invite them to the wedding.”

“I don’t want to cause problems with you and your family,” Zuko lowered his voice, as if anyone could hear him. He and Katara had climbed to the ship’s crows nest, both for the privacy and to catch the first glimpse of Katara’s home. Katara sighed and rested her head against Zuko’s shoulder. “You’re my family,” Katara said firmly. “I love you, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Besides, we’ve been dating for two years. There were only two ways for this to end.”

Zuko sighed and pressed his forehead against Katara’s hair. She was right, of course. As Fire Lord, openly courting a woman meant that she was being seriously considered as his wife. He and Katara had spoken at length about the expectations before they decided to start dating. Then they spent another eternity talking with Iroh, Hakoda and Sokka about the expectations before going public with their relationship. If anyone was taken by surprise by their engagement at this point, then it was really out of Katara and Zuko’s hands. They had followed protocol more strictly than any Fire Lord and potential Fire Lady had in at least the last two centuries.Still...

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going to happen here?” Zuko asked. Katara sat up and shrugged.

“I’ve told you what I could,” she said. “You have to speak to my father, Gran Gran and Sokka about your intention. Then you present me with your gifts, and then my closest male relatives take you hunting.”

That was the part that gave Zuko pause. He knew better than to think Hakoda or Sokka would harm him (permanently), but Katara said that Bato and Pakku would likely be there as well. Zuko had interacted with both men a handful of times since the end of the war, and they had been courteous, if a bit cold. They grew even more frigid after he started dating Katara. He wasn’t sure how either of them would treat him out on the tundra. Away from Katara. Away from witnesses in general. It would be all too easy to arrange an accident...

“Would you stop worrying?” Katara reached up and poked Zuko where his brow furrowed over his nose. “It’ll be fine. You’ve been hunting before.”

“Not on ice,” Zuko grumbled. “And never while trying to impress my fiancee’s family.”

“Don’t worry, they already like you!”

Zuko recalled the last time he had interacted with Katara’s step-grandfather and waterbending master. He had given the Water Tribe elder a deep, respectful bow-something unheard of for a Fire Lord to do. He rose to find Pakku eyeing him critically and prepared with a comment on how sloppy the bow was, and how in the Northern Tribe, young men were taught to show their elders the utmost respect.

“We’ll be there soon,” Zuko said, casting his narrowed gaze over the horizon. “Are you ready?” Katara leaned up and pressed a kiss to Zuko’s cheek.

“I’ve been ready for this for two years.”

****

Per the Southern Water Tribe’s custom, Katara disembarked the ship first, on a dinghy, so she could greet Zuko with her family. As the chief’s daughter, all of the Southern Tribe was considered family, and so had the right to be there when Zuko came to ask for a blessing on his and Katara’s upcoming marriage.

For two days Zuko was left on his ship while the village prepared for his official arrival. Any representatives from the surrounding villages who wanted to be present would arrive during this time, and the family members who would be joining the hunt would make sure that their supplies were ready. Ordinarily, the suitor would have his own preparations to make, but Zuko had done everything he was supposed to before he left Caldera. All he could do for two days was drive himself, his uncle and his crew insane with last minute worries.

“What if she doesn’t like what I got her?” Zuko asked his uncle.

“I’m sure she’ll love your gifts,” Iroh assured him.

“Has the guest room been prepared in case her grandmother wants to come back with us?” Zuko asked the ship’s captain. It was a possibility that Katara had prepared him for. Usually, the mother of the intended went with her daughter to her future home to help get her set up and meet her future in-laws. Kanna might not feel up to the cross ocean trek, but she might decide to go after all. Zuko wanted to make sure the voyage was as comfortable as possible.

Then Zuko had inventory taken on all the supplies he had brought for Katara’s village. In the eight years since the end of the war, the Southern Water Tribe had slowly, but surely begun to come into their own power. Still, Katara assured him that the extra fabric, metal, and spices would be welcomed. When he was done with all of that, there was nothing left for him to do but wait.

Finally, at around noon on the second day, it was finally time for the Fire Lord to arrive in the village. Stepping off of the boat felt eerily similar to the first time he had first set foot onto the icy land eight years earlier. Things had certainly changed. He was no longer a desperate 16 year-old boy on an impossible mission. He wore practical wool and furs instead of slightly too large battle armor. The piers had been rebuilt in the intervening time, and Zuko had seen them himself several times before without the odd knot in his stomach. But like that first time, he was met with rows of solemn faces staring at him, uncertainly. He was once again an unwelcome foreigner come to disturb their peace.

There were some friendly faces in the crowd, Zuko had to remind himself. There a few Tribesmen and women he had gotten the chance to know over the past few years of peace. Some he had begun nascent friendships with before he had even allowed himself to hope Katara liked him the way he liked her. Nukilik, the village armsmith flashed him a grin and what Zuko could only assume were two thumbs up. It was hard to tell through the thick mittens, but it made more sense than the man balling his hands into fists.

Hakoda and Sokka were there, too. Zuko noticed with relief that neither of them seemed upset to see him. Hakoda smiled the placid, slightly tired smile Zuko had learned to recognize over the years. Sokka’s grin was slightly more disturbing- more of a baring of teeth than a smile, paired with a mischievous gleam.

“Welcome, Fire Lord Zuko,” Hakoda greeted him formally, but warmly grasping his forearm in the traditional Water Tribe greeting. “I heard your trip was smooth. I hope it was also pleasant.”

“It was,” Zuko said loud enough for the bystanders to hear.”We made better time than I’d hoped.”

“Of course you did,” Sokka declared, grabbing his friend’s arm the way Hakoda had. Then he pulled Zuko into a one armed hug, slapping the young Fire Lord hard on the back. “You had a master waterbender with you.”

“We should get going,” Hakoda said. “There are others who are anxious to see you’ve made it here safe.” Zuko blushed a deep red as a wave of laughter passed through the crowd. They knew exactly what Hakoda meant. And just like that, Zuko was accepted by them. The awkward suitor of a daughter of their tribe.

The crowd fell in line behind Zuko’s small entourage. He walked at the head with Hakoda and Sokka in an informal procession through the town. The buildings were nowhere near as ornate as those he had seen in the Northern Water Tribe, but Zuko recognized a bustling, prosperous town. The houses and shops were like the people of the Southern Tribe- practical, sturdy and possessing a unique grace all their own. In the middle of the village stood a long low hall that served as Hakoda’s seat of power, the village community center, and for today, a banquet hall.

Katara sat at a table on a raised platform with her Gran Gran and Master Pakku. She wore a parka lined with pristine white and grey fur. Her hair had been done in elaborate looping braids that had been fastened with bead and ivory combs.On her forehead had been painted a dark crescent moon. The mark of the brave she earned years earlier, she had once explained to Zuko. She was all Water Tribe today. To Zuko, she had never seemed more regal and queenly- not even in her Ambassador’s robes- and he wanted to stop and thank everyone present for giving rise to the most compassionate, strong, intelligent and beautiful Fire Lady the world would ever know. But he restrained himself. He hadn’t officially declared his intentions yet.

Hakoda and Sokka clapped Zuko on the back almost hard enough to knock him to his knees, but Zuko managed to stay standing. Then they left him at the foot of what he now recognized as a dias, and took their seats. Hakoda at the center with his children on either side of him.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” Hakoda addressed him in a somber tone. “Why have you come?” It wasn’t exactly a friendly start to this conversation, but Katara had told Zuko to expect this.He glanced up at Katara and found her watching him. She gave him a small, supportive smile and nodded slightly. Spirits, she was gorgeous. Zuko tried to swallow and unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and say the words Katara had told him to say.

“Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe,”he managed to say clearly.”Honored elders,” he bowed to Kanna and Pakku, “beloved family,” he turned to acknowledge the people gathered in the hall. “I have come to make it known that I intend to marry your daughter, Master Katara, and I humbly ask your blessings.” The room fell uncomfortably silent. After a moment, he risked a glance up. Hakoda was watching him with a stoney eyed stare. It wasn’t quite angry, but it wasn’t exactly encouraging, either.

“Here in the Southern Water Tribe a marriage is not to be entered into lightly,” he began after a long pause. “When a couple decides to join their lives together, they agree to protect each other. Each has their own duty to the home and family they will build together, and neither is more or less important. Can you promise to help her build a safe and sturdy home together?”

Safe and sturdy were so subjective. He could provide Katara a palace with loyal and well trained guards. Even with the Fire Nation’s funds diminished with the costs of rebuilding infrastructure, providing for the financially devastated poor and making reparations to the nations damaged by his family’s war, Zuko’s wife and children would want for nothing substantial. Still he knew that as beloved as Master Katara, the Water Tribe Ambassador had become, there would always be people opposed to a foreign Fire Lady, just as there would always be opposed to the Fire Lord who ended the war that made whole generations of Fire Nobility wealthy. But Katara had acknowledged those obstacles, and she had still chosen him- him!- in spite of the risks. Zuko wasn’t afraid for her or himself or their children. They had faced down worse odds together. Zuko met Katara’s eye once more, taking courage from the way they seemed to gleam in the lantern light.

“I promise,” Zuko swore. He knew what was coming next. He was neither surprised nor dismayed when Hakoda spoke again.

“Words are not enough. Words alone are empty and can be spent lightly.” Hakoda’s stone-faced expression broke slightly, and Zuko thought he saw the beginning of a smile. “You will have a chance to prove your ability to provide. Tomorrow you will join me and my son, Sokka on a hunt. If your kill is acceptable to my daughter, it will serve as your betrothal feast.”

With that, Hakoda stood and left the assembly with Sokka and Katara following behind him. Kanna and Pakku feel in behind them, followed by the village elders. Finally, Zuko and his entourage were guided to where they would stay for the duration of the trip. Iroh, who had been uncharacteristically silent for the ceremony, nudged his nephew in the ribs. He grinned up at Zuko excitedly.

“You did so well, Fire Lord Zuko!” he stage whispered. “I’m very proud of you. And so, may I add, was Master Katara.” Zuko didn’t feel that he had done much at all. He’d barely spoken- had barely had the chance to speak- and he would have to trek the icy tundra the next day and hope he didn’t embarrass himself too badly in front of his future in-laws. But then he remembered how Katara’s proud look when he’d caught her eye, and Zuko knew he’d go anywhere and accomplish any task if it meant he got to be with her for the rest of his life.

*.*.*.*.*

“I know Dad has to look strong and dignified in front of everyone,” Katara said. “But he could have at least cracked a smile up there.”

There hadn’t been an official banquet that evening. Hakoda had predicted that his guests would be tired after their journey, so Zuko’s crew had gone to dinner at the inn where they would be staying for this trip, and Zuko and Iroh, along with a couple of guards, were staying with Hakoda and his family. After dinner, everyone adjourned to their rooms for the evening, leaving Zuko and Katara the common room. They were curled up together on a pile of cushions and rugs in front of the fire, discussing the day, just like they had done almost every night for the past two years.

“I’m sure this isn’t easy on him,” Zuko pointed out in reply to Katara’s complaint. “You’re his only daughter, and you’re not only getting married, you’ll be moving across the world from him.”

“I’ve been the Water Tribe Ambassador for three years!” Katara reminded him. “It’s not like my living situation is going to change. Well,” Katara looked up and winked at Zuko, “not much.”

“It’s going to be a bigger change than you think,” Zuko said thoughtfully. “The Ambassador thing was always going to be temporary. Eventually, you would have decided to move on to something else, or get married and start a family-” Zuko allowed a small smile to cross his face as he pulled Katara a bit closer. “He probably assumed you would be a little closer to home when that happened. He’s going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss him, too,” Katara admitted. “And Sokka and Gran Gran and Suki and Pakku. But I’ll visit as often as I can. Besides, it’s not like I’ve ever been Daddy’s Lil’ Princess.”

“Katara, your dad is the Chief of the entire Southern Water Tribe,” Zuko chuckled. “You’re everyone’s princess.”

“I told you, that’s not how it works down here,” Katara huffed. “I’m not-”

“Officially a princess,” Zuko completed, rolling his eyes. “I know, I know. But you are still really important here. Whether you want to admit it or not, you pretty much are a princess.”

“I am not!” Zuko noticed with no small amount of amusement that Katara was blushing. He grinned mischievously.

“I think I should talk with your dad about getting you a crown,” he teased. Katara jabbed his ribs with her elbow.

“Don’t you start giving people ideas,” she chided. “If dad gives me a crown, Sokka’s going to insist on having one, and his head is swollen enough without adding the weight.”

“You’re going to have a crown soon anyway,” Zuko pointed out. “Maybe you should have one just to get used to it.” Katara hummed thoughtfully and nestled into Zuko’s side.

“Do I have to wear a crown?” she asked. “What if I just got some really fancy beads?”

Zuko reached up and brushed his fingers against Katara’s braids. The truth was he couldn’t care less about what she wore when she was Fire Lady. He’d made it clear to his advisors that she would be welcome to integrate elements of her own culture in their day to day life at the palace. Still..

“You should probably have one for formal occasions, at least,” he said thoughtfully. “But aside from that, you can do whatever you like with your hair. And your clothes.” Zuko’s fingers wandered away from her hair to the thick fur lining her hood. “I wouldn’t recommend fur, though.”

“I don’t know,” Katara shrugged. “I think showing up to a council meeting in a full fur parka would be a serious power move.”

“Most of them are already afraid of you. But whatever you want, my love, is fine with me.”

“Aw!” Katara twisted around and planted a kiss on the edge of Zuko’s jaw. “You’re so good to me.” Despite two years and many kisses, Katara still managed to make Zuko blush.

“Ick!” The pair turned to find Sokka cringing in the doorway. “You two are so gross.”

“Oh, please!” Katara snorted. “You and Suki are just as bad.” At the mention of his wife, Sokka’s face crumpled miserably.

“Suki!” he wailed. “Why’d you have to bring her up? I’d almost forgotten to miss her today.”

“She’ll be home in two weeks.” Katara rolled her eyes, unsympathetically. Suki was back in Kyoshi to visit her aunt. It was the first time she’d been back since her and Sokka’s wedding almost a year earlier, and Sokka had been supportive of the trip, but he hadn’t counted on missing her so much.

“It feels different being apart when you’re married,” Sokka lamented. “You’ll find out.” Then with a menacing smirk he added, “You know, assuming you come back from the hunting trip.” Katara felt Zuko tense up and she glared at her brother.

“Stop teasing him,” she scolded. She brushed her fingers across Zuko’s cheek. “He’s going to be fine.” Zuko turned his head and kissed the palm of Katara’s hand. Sokka shuddered.

‘Have you ever actually been hunting?” Sokka asked Zuko. “This is a pretty big deal. The entire village is invited to this party. It’s a bad look if you don’t bring enough food for everyone.”

“Sokka!” Katara sat up and fixed her brother with a warning glare. Sokka threw his hands up in surrender.

“Whatever,” he said. “But you really should go to bed soon. We’re leaving early tomorrow. Anyway, I’m turning in. Go back to being gross.” When he was gone, Zuko glanced down at Katara nervously.

“I have hunted before,” he said softly as if spilling some deep dark secret. “But it was just small animals. It was right before...before Ba Sing Se. Never anything like...” Zuko motioned around the room at the trophies from other hunts. There were large ivory tusks hanging from the walls and thick, furs trapping the precious heat. Everything came from animals at least as big as he was.

“Are you worried you can’t do it?” Katara asked. Zuko felt a rush of heat to his face.

“Well...what if I can’t?” he asked. “If this is how I propose, will we not be allowed to marry if I can’t bring in a...a...” Once again, Zuko gestured around the room. Katara sat up, pulling away from Zuko’s embrace so she could face him.

“First of all,” she held up a finger under his nose, “I’ve already agreed to marry you. All we’re doing here is telling people and giving you a chance to bond with my family. Second,” another finger joined the first, “Dad and Sokka are expert hunters. You’ll come back with something, I guarantee it. Third, I love you, and there’s nothing that can change that, so stop freaking out about this. It’s supposed to be fun.”

“Fun,” Zuko snorted, but he did feel better.

“Promise you’ll at least try to have fun?” Katara rolled her eye, feigning exasperation. Zuko kissed her forehead and nodded.

“I’ll try,” he promised.

“Great!” Katara resettled into her previous spot, curled up with Zuko with a happy sigh.

“I have to go to bed,” Zuko protested weakly.

“Fire more minutes,” Katara said. “I won’t see you for a few days, so I want my cuddle time now.”

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

#zutara #atla #atla fanfic #soft katara #soft zuko #traditional

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