#he’s sending those ravens as reminders that no matter what she does he will always love and be there for her
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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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No Choice (Divergent)
Characters: Four x reader, Eric x reader
Summary: Four and Y/N were about to be engaged when she decided to call it off. Four won't stop at anything to understand why.
--
Tris and her friends sat next to Four, who was minding his business until he saw Y/N laughing about something your friend said. Four always found her laugh therapeutic, like listening to your favorite slow song on repeat as you watch the snow fall on a cold winter day.
Four and yoy were in a serious relationship since they initiated together and you made him feel something that he never felt before.
He felt loved and he felt like he was important to someone. And after all that, you broke up with him a week after he asked you to marry him. You couldn't bring herself to tell him why because you knew how he would react. You are dauntless born and belongs to one of the richest families in Dauntless history.
Your father was furious when he found out that you fell for a Stiff. He made sure you knew that, but you wouldn't budge. That was, until he threatened to send all of his hit men on Four. You knew hated how ruthless your father and his hit men can be, so you gave up.
You stand from the table with you tray and walked down to the dish collection station. On the way, you felt a pair of eyes on you and slowly scanned the cafeteria until you saw Four. Your heart stopped in your chest, making your body run cold as you two locked eyes.
You held eye contact for a few more moments before you left his gaze and walked away. "What's up with those Four and Y/N?" Tris whispers to Christina. "I can still hear you, and it's none of your business." Four drinks the rest of his water before standing from the table and leaving.
All you and Four would do is steal glances from one another. They both worked in intelligence but you are grateful that Four assists Eric with the first two weeks of initiation. You stopped by the training room to get a peek at the new initiates.
"Well look who it is," Eric announces, making everyone stop what they are doing and look at Y/N, including Four.
"These are the new initiates, huh?" Eric nods. "Who's the top of the class?" You sayna loud. "That'll be me," Peter says, raising his hand. "Egh, that's not saying much, is it?" You say, making Eric and some initiates laugh.
"No one told you to stop what you're doing," you snap and everyone resumed back to their take down techniques. Four was in the middle of helping Tris with her leg positioning by twisting her hips.
You noticed and heat built up in your chest. You makes your way towards Eric who is smirking at you with his arms crossed over his chest.
"What's bring me this pleasure?" Eric asks. "Curiousity. This bunch looks.." "Questionable, I know." Eric finishes. "You know that dude, reminds me of you." "Thanks, sweetheart," "Watch it," You warn, making Eric's smirk widen. "And it's not a compliment," you add.
"You want a piece?" "If I do, you owe me a meal because I'm on my lunch break right now." You negotiate says, pulling your Y/H/C, Y/H/T hair into a ponytail. "Deal," "I'll do it," Four says, standing next to Eric. "Aw, even after you dumped him, he's still looking after you." Eric snarks.
"Well at least he can keep someone longer than a night, which really speaks about your performance, doesn't it?" You snarks, making some close by initiates chuckle. Eric sends them a glare and they freeze in fear. "But I think they can learn more from me and Four than me and you," you tell Eric.
"Y/N," Four starts. "Come on, it'll be like old times. But I won't go easy on you," "I don't want to hurt you," Four says. "You won't if you keep it a friendly competition," you pull off your sweater, revealing your black sports bra and tattoos sitting proudly on your hips. Four loved kissing those tattoos.
Four eyes scans your body for a moment before rolling up his sleeves. "Alright, let's do it." "Look alive everyone, you're about the witness a pretty damn good fight. Pay close attention and learn from it." Eric announces. You and Four walk on to the ring and stand on both sides of the square.
You both get into your stances and Four makes the first move. You dodge the first two punches he made and launches a side kick to his abdomen. He stumbles back and smiles at you. He missed this. He missed you. He decides to get into your personal space and overwhelm you with hook and straight punches.
You blocks as much as you could but you took two hits to your jaw. You jump back and kicks his side with a roundhouse kick. A moment after you land, you glide your left leg across on the floor and trips him. "Whoah, how did she do that?" "They didn't teach us that." The initiates talk among themselves but couldn't tear eyes away from the fight.
You were on the ground now and tried to put Four into a choke hold. Four knew it was coming so he made sure to put his arms up close to his head to you couldn't get a grip on his throat. He pulled your legs open and attempted to choke you out with his forearms. You slammed your fists on the crooks of his elbows to break his grip.
When he does, you traps one of his legs with yours and thrusts your hips so he would fall on his back next to you. You used your forearms to jump to your feet and gave Four a hand to get up. He gets up and turns you around so your back hits his chest. He wraps an arm around your neck but you ducks your chin into your own chest.
You hold onto his arm and jumps up to use your momentum to throw him over you. You grabbed his arm and pressed your knee into his solar plexus. "Hi," you whisper. "Hey." They looked into each other eyes and you add," "That's all you get to see today, guys. Practice what you learned from the fight, you're going to need it."
"You heard her. Keep practicing," Eric commands. They both stand from the ground and Four says, "You need to go to the infermery," "Oh come on, I've dealt with worse." You say as you put on your sweater. "Y/N," Four looks at your with his eyes laced with pure concern. "You didn't hurt me. I'm okay." "We need to talk," he says lowly.
"My place after dinner," you say. Four walks away and you sigh. "I didn't reignite a flame, did I?" "You wish, play boy," you says before pulling your hair back.
Later that night, Four walks into your apartment. You was in the middle of making tea when you heard Four say, "Why did you do it?" "It's best if you don't know," "Clearly, that's not the case here." "It won't give anybody any closure," you say, turning around and pressing your back into the counter.
"Why did you spend three years gaining my trust and making me fall for you so you can just drop me like I was nothing!" He snaps, making you wince. "Four, I never meant-" "Tell me," he says more calmly. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes as Theo steps closer to you.
He leans his body against the wall and lean his arm above his head. Your eyes graze over the exposed skin below his shirt. His dark, raven eyes burrowed into yours. "My Dad threatened to put his hitmen on you if I went through with the marriage," you explain.
"Typical Y/F/N," Four says, clenching his jaw as he looks out the window. "He always gets what he wants. It's sickening." You say, your skin crawling with disgust. "Who did he set you up with?" "Some cousin of Max,"
"Did you meet him yet?" "I'm suppose to have dinner with him tomorrow night, but.." Your tongue darts across your lips for moisture.
"Don't go," "I have to, Four," "No, you don't. You're all I have, Y/N. And I'm not going to let you marry some random prick you barely know." "That's not worth your life!" "That's not your call!" "You can be so damn stubborn, I swear to God." "Yeah? Well right back at you,"
He walks up to you and you hold in a breath. He hands trail from your jawline to your arms and stops at your hips. He leans his forehead against yours and his breathing became jagged. "I know that I hurt you deep, and I'm sorry." You hold the back of his head and press a warm kiss on his lips.
His hand slide behind your thighs and lift you on the counter before burying his face into your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso as he pulls you closer. You slide your hands under his arms and rest your face on his shoulder.
"There's no one in this world that can hurt me like you can, Y/N." he croaks. "I thought that it was for the best. Your life matters to me more than anything else." You say as he rubs circles on the back of his neck. "My life doesn't matter unless you're in it." He pulls away from you just enough to see your face.
You brush away the tears from his cheeks and peck kisses all over his face. "What are we going to do about Y/F/N?" You ask. "I'm not leaving. I don't care if I die." "If you die, then I guess I'm dying with you." His lips tugs into a small smile as he tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear.
And in that moment, you had the greatest idea you've had in a long time. His eyes soften and he asked, "What is it?" "What do you say about knocking some hit men off the board?" You ask. "When do we start?"
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Eris has been thinking about Oryx.
This is what she tells the Vanguard, but it feels wholly inadequate. She feels half-consumed, again, burying herself in Toland’s letters and in the shorthand notes she’d carved into her armor down in the pit, contrasting her scraps of arcane knowledge with newly-classified Hidden reports of some alien brightness emitting from the depths of the Shrine of Oryx. All the information she has points her unerringly to that same place, that same desolate object in orbit.
She still has not been back to the Moon.
Ikora has not leashed her, but all of her missions have been strictly planetside, no more dangerous than the assignments of civilian intelligence agents. Eris knows this is because she is a civilian, now, no matter what Hunter-instincts still guide her. But she still feels stifled, trapped in the Tower, despite what the other agents whisper about healing and recuperation and trial periods.
Despite the hopes and fears of the Vanguard, she does not want to rush headlong into her final death; there is a reason she directed the Guardian like a blade across the surface of the Moon to hunt Crota’s brood. But something is stirring in the nearest seat of Oryx’s power, and she needs to see it for herself. They must learn more about the King before he sweeps into their little corner of the universe and kills them all.
After Crota there had been scarcely a night to celebrate, to sit quietly with her grief, before her work had continued. She can accept this if she can be of use once again, if she can follow her chain of vengeance up the royal lineage of the Hive until there is nothing left, no trace of the Hive left to burn.
The Guardian comes to retrieve bounties every morning, bringing Eris what scarce information she can find in the field. The Wolves are freshly escaped from their prison, and the Tower is in a frenzy. Crota is dead with his father a million lightyears away. They are of no importance, now.
“You destroyed the Shrine of Oryx,” Eris says over a handful of sticky idols. It is not a question: she has read the after-action report.
“Yes,” the Guardian says, her black hair hanging over her eyes. “Well— we did.” Her voice, always quiet, sinks lower. “I don’t understand why the Speaker had us chasing Osiris’ prophecies, after everything I’ve heard about the exile…” She is still newly-risen, but already she knows the value of a secret.
Eris leans in at that, curious. “Osiris?” There had been no mention of him in any of the mission data, though she can already guess that the Speaker had a hand in this. Few remembered Osiris’ prophecies about the Hive; they did not need reminding of their truth with Oryx hanging on the horizon.
The Guardian leaves shortly after, bond gleaming on her arm, promising to send her a recording of the mission in full. Eris suspects she has all the information she needs. There is, at least, one person she can trust as a traveling-partner.
She needs to get to the Shrine. The Vanguard are still fighting among themselves as to Oryx’s existence and importance, the Speaker furtively seeking information from the same man he exiled, so Eris considers her mission a Hidden matter. She sends Ikora a message and departs before she can ask too many questions.
It is still early enough in the day, so she takes her ship out of the hangar and flies it into the wilderness, somewhere she can sit without being bothered by any well-meaning Guardians passing by. She adjusts her radio until she finds the channel spitting out static cut through with the trill of a harpy. She hears numbers occasionally, two two seven…
Eris waits, but she is used to it. Eventually the static cuts, the harpy-song violently ended.
“Osiris,” comes the voice on the other end, brisk, like he’s still Vanguard Commander, fielding calls. As if anyone else could be on the other end, as if anyone else could be reaching out through the heavy curtain of exile to seek him out.
“Eris Morn,” she replies, then, “I have news of Oryx.” She is still newly-returned, still refiguring herself in the wake of her own personal catastrophe. Talking to Osiris is at least easier, because he leaves no space for anything but what is necessary.
She thinks maybe he has forgotten how to do anything but question, too, in an exile less excruciating but no less lonely. Here they both are, grasping at the edges of something.
“Oh!” Sagira gasps on the other end of the line, excited. Something in Eris, at the very back of her mind, shutters— not completely alone, she forgets. The emptiness over her shoulder aches in tandem with the ever-present burning in her eyes. Some things will always be only her burden to bear.
“Yes,” Eris says, pushing forward despite the feeling, because that is what she does. “The Shrine is awake again.” She suspects he already knows, may be watching it even now. “I want to know what we can learn from it.”
She knows they will find something. She also knows that there is more to this bone-deep desire for shared action, when she has been alone in her hunt since she and Eriana and the rest first sought Crota’s realm and died in the seeking. She is certain she would die before telling anyone. Some gnawing uncertainty of what may happen to her if she was completely, devastatingly alone in those tunnels again. All that blank terror and wordless desperation, still hiding somewhere in her mind.
Eris knows she is not mad, regardless of the whispers from the young Guardians burning shockingly bright. But her wounds are still seeping, not six months since she crawled out of the Moon. She still has nightmares of finding bodies in the dust, of being stripped of her Light, of being split open that first horrific night of the Great Disaster. These, she suspects, will never stop.
The thought makes Eris feel ridiculous, like a child that cannot take care of herself. But for this, for the fate of humanity, she is willing to submit to her own self-doubt. There is work yet to be done.
“The Shrine!” Sagira squawks over the line. “I told you it wouldn’t stay closed forever! That Guardian, what, shot at it? Eris, we’ll meet you in orbit. The signal!”
Osiris sighs, irritated. “Yes, we will. Bring any information you have.” The line cuts. Because no one can see her, Eris allows herself to think of Brya.
—
Sagira transmats Eris aboard their ship once she arrives. It is remarkable how utterly alien it appears, as if the Vex had terraformed it from the inside out. She has met with them a few times, in the search for Crota’s court, but never anywhere Eris could begin to grasp the full scope of Osiris’ obsession.
Osiris huffs something at her by way of greeting, splitting his attention between a terminal screen and an ancient book. Eris occupies herself with spreading her materials out on a little card table, conspicuous, next to the navigation controls: scrolls, notes and their translations, runes, her Ahamkara joint.
After a few minutes Osiris stands, tips his head toward her. “Toland’s things?” He asks, moving to sort through the Hive-lore Eris has managed to accumulate.
“Some of it,” she says, reaching for the book Osiris had been examining. It’s one she’s never seen before, a rambling theory about Hive communication logics. She digs through it in silence while Osiris and Sagira examine her own theories, Sagira occasionally making comments as she draws comparisons.
Eris tries to keep herself from growing too comfortable, too complacent, but in the dim light and the ship’s low static hum she finds it far easier to think. Especially in comparison to her place in the Tower, where even in the shadows she feels exposed, on display.
In time they go down to the surface of the Moon, the harsh architecture of the Hive looming over their heads. Eris expects herself to be more nervous, some paranoia still buzzing in her skull. Now, though, there’s only a sort of anticipation. Clarity in action, just as it had been hunting Crota.
Osiris enters the underground first, Sagira buzzing around his head. There are a few Thrall lingering around the moldering stonework of the entrance, all neatly dispatched.
“What do you expect?” Eris asks as they make their way down the long corridor to the entrance of the Gatehouse. It’s suspiciously empty, no acolytes making their rounds, no thrall kicking up rocks to search for worms.
“If the shrine is active again, it’s worth protecting,” Osiris says, stopping at the edge of the harsh cliff-face to glance at the stars above, the darkness below. “It would explain the lack of Hive on the surface levels.”
They continue, cautious, Eris stepping lightly enough that she doesn’t break the bones littered across the steps. There’s nothing as they creep ever downward, as the yellow glare of the lamps turns to the icy blue-green of the Circle of Bones.
Eris remembers such names from her first journey to the Moon, from when she and her fireteam were first racing screaming through these corridors. She wonders if they were translated or if Toland had made them up as he saw fit.
She almost startles as she sees a lone acolyte peering off its balcony, though she throws her dagger at it before Osiris can move to kill it himself. It drops silently; she goes to observe it, crouching down to retrieve her knife. The motion makes her knees ache.
Osiris comes up behind her, nudges its cleaved skull with his boot. “Not so graceful as the Vex,” he comments.
“But much more ravenous.” It has been months since she has killed any Hive, she realizes. In the tunnels, again, she feels almost as if she’d never left.
“The Vex devour entire planets without thought. They are less visceral, but no less dangerous.”
Eris stands, looks out into the dark hallways of the Hive to ensure they are not being ambushed. “And yet you live among them willingly.”
“Not so willingly as one may think,” he says, and then he’s moving again, trailing sparks, leading them both.
Some part of her wants to know what keeps him there, if it is anything like what draws her back to the Moon, again, after so much death and pain. But he has not questioned her motives, has not pitied her. She will not seek information she would not give.
The great tunnels of the Hall of Wisdom echo as they move through them, the sound distorting as it passes down the lengths of not-quite-stone. The answering echo sounds like something screaming.
When the shrine-room opens up around them, Eris expects something grandiose in its terror. But there is no immense shadow of Oryx looking down on them, only the simple cruelties of the Hive’s existence.
At the base of the shrine is a small coven of Wizards, all hovering above a lovingly-drawn spell circle. A half-dead Ogre, larger than any Eris had seen in the pits, lays bleeding oil within it. The room is, Eris notices, completely silent. The animal part of her brain, the part that kept her alive in the tunnels, wants her to run until she can see the stars again.
She drops to a crouch, scrabbling backwards to hide more fully in the empty tunnel. Osiris’ ambient Light goes out like a match as he joins her, surveying the ritual around a jut of stone. He looks at her, head tilted, a question. She shakes her head, presses herself flat against the wall.
After a moment, the chanting starts.
It’s not the overwhelming scream of the Deathsingers, but Eris wants to scream back, to chant the names of her fireteam again, to not lose herself in the dark. She grips the handle of her knife hard enough that her hand goes numb.
The wizards sing in turns, the shrine moving under the will of their voices. The ogre shudders as it dies, the circle glowing a sickly green underneath its hulking form.
Eventually, the wizards go quiet. Osiris reaches back against Eris’ shoulder, taps in Hidden shorthand: first opening wait for transmission. She doesn’t dare to move, to acknowledge.
They wait for a few minutes, still and silent in the half-dark of the tunnels. Then the great orb begins spinning, a low drone filling all the gaps in the room.
“Oryx,” Eris whispers, listening to the discordant hum and, through it, the great deep voice of the king of the Hive.
—
They spend the next four hours translating the message. The bulk is an edict on the new chain of tithes, now that Crota is dead.
The ending, though, is what she at once expected and feared: a declaration that Crota’s death will be avenged.
“We knew he would come,” Eris says, trying to stay composed. All the blood Crota spilled, a newborn in the eyes of the Hive, and now his father coming to rain devastation. “I’ve warned the Vanguard.”
Osiris scratches something out on the pad in front of him. “The Vanguard never listens in time. You know that.” It would be barbed, coming from anyone else.
“We have proof now. That might convince them that we are right.” She sighs. She had not expected to feel so drained, so completely bloodless, after such a short journey. “They are still focused on eliminating the rest of Crota’s brood, the Wolves. It will be a struggle.”
“This is not a battle that can be won alone. The Vanguard cannot ignore the Darkness to chase Fallen forever.”
“We may not need to fight alone,” Eris says. “The Queen of the Reef has opened their gates.”
Osiris snorts. “If you think she will listen.”
“Oryx is not just a threat to Earth,” she replies, too exhausted to bristle. She is learning the shape of Osiris’ knowledge, which lies in his challenges. “And we do not know where their knowledge lies. They may yet be able to help us.”
“It is an idea worth pursuing,” Osiris replies after a long few moments, “but it will be difficult to achieve an audience. First we must prepare.”
Eris has been preparing for disaster for as long as she can remember, has spent years guarding against some future ruin. She knows the shape of it, what is at stake if they fail.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Osiris card through Hive dictionaries and Eriana’s blood-stained research notes. She had given everything to make it out of the Hellmouth, had become something monstrous to carry her warning back to the City, had destroyed Crota through the stares and the whispers and the doubt.
But she is out of the Hellmouth, now. The City may not trust her, but she has allies beyond its walls, those that can understand this drive to step into the Dark to understand it, destroy it so completely that there is no memory of it left. She will not live to see the end of this war, but the mantle of her vengeance will.
“Tell me about the Vex,” Eris says, arranging her own papers. It is only fair to take on this mantle in turn.
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Two Faced | Chapter Two
↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it's all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared. for now at least.
pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader
genre :: royal au, angst, fluff, slice of life etc
word count :: 2.6k
→ click here for the next part !
You're apprehensive the first few days. Peering over your shoulder when you walk through the halls of the Duke's estate. You often find yourself fiddling with the only real possession you have remaining from the entire ordeal - a silver locket given to you by your mother, it hasn't stood the test of time, it's littered in small scratches and it's clearly seen better days. Neither does it shine the way it used to but you need it to feel at ease.
Currently, sitting in the estate's library you attempt to focus on reading the book in front of you. It details the life of an orphaned child, the rest of the plot is a blur to you as this task is not done with the intent of enjoying the literature but with the purpose of distracting yourself.
You've been avoiding Duke Ackerman for days on end now. He's made the occasional visit to your quarters, always politely asks if he's permitted to speak to you - allowed to take even a second of your precious time. You decline every single request, your excuses range from "I'm feeling particularly ill today." to"I would like to rest early.", He never inquires after you've responded. You do however find he communicates in a variety of different ways ; Meals of the finest standard, A luxurious place to live, the maids also offer you the opportunity to venture out into the beautiful gardens but you know he's asked them to do so.
Quite frankly, you're still petrified and are unable to fathom what happened that fateful day, you had never been one to put much faith in God especially after all he had put you through, but maybe there was a God or a higher being or a somebody who helped you in your moment of despair.
Eyes darting from your page to the door of the library, you swear you see the door knob twist and you hastily double take. Nothing looks out of the ordinary so you allow yourself to shake it off. Your eyes droop shut as you knead your shoulders attempting to relieve some of the tension you feel. Recently, you find it to be an ordinary occurrence for your muscles to seize at the worst possible opportunities.
"May I speak to you?" A beaming voice enters the room from behind you but never had such a cheerful voice made you freeze in fright. It's him.
At his appearance you begin to think of all sorts of scenarios and outcomes but the specific thought you've been actively ignoring slyly slips into view. What if the spell weakens?
Fate is an ever changing entity, one minute it may be in your favour, the next... you'd rather not delve any deeper into that alternative.
Jumping to your feet you don't look in his direction trying to keep the contact you have with him minimal.
He audibly huffs and just as you're about to scurry away he speaks again. "Halt your movements."
Something about his voice beckons you to do so and you anxiously face him.
"Did I come off too bold?" The expression he makes is unlike any other you've seen from him before. His eyes twinkle and it looks as if he's holding his breathe expectantly. It's almost comical how different he looks and you can't stop your cheeks from flushing. He's quite adorable under this spell.
But then a flashback is presented to you. The anger in his eyes, the cold feeling of his sword, if he were any closer he would have been swiftly slicing your neck open. Y/N, you were seconds away from becoming a corpse you remind yourself fiercely.
"I'm not doing very well at courting you, Am I?" He frowns as he asks but he's not upset, perhaps disappointed.
Looking at the floor you hear him bombard you with even more questions, he's crowding around you now like a swarm of bees - somehow he manages the job of an entire hive on his own. No one has ever taken such an interest in you.
Your conscience tells you that you will regret this later on down the line, it tells you this will come back and bite you incredibly hard, you will regret being so ignorant and trusting yet you yield. Is it so wrong for you to consider feeling affection? When the Duke snaps out of this spell he will promptly execute you and you're aware of that fact, so what reason is there to cower away in fear?
For all your life you have never experienced the true feeling of love. You had mother's maternal love, which hadn't lasted very long at all. Never would you have any other opportunity to experience the romantic intimate kind involving a significant other. If you were to die you may as well play the role of his wife for as long as this spell wills it. Perhaps he'll receive his memories back so late he forgets or simply no longer cares. Part of you hopes he doesn't remember at all.
"Would you like to..." you pause already regretting what you're doing but before you can continue the Duke cuts you off.
"Have tea together? Explore the gardens together?"
What really sticks out to you most is how he casually emphasizes the word together. He really doesn't care what activity you engage in as long as it's with him. You feel your heart twist in your chest. This is dangerous.
He's eager, leaning forward with wide eyes. It feels odd having someone care about your input, even more odd seeing that person smile at you with the same spirit of an elated child. It's bittersweet knowing his true character.
"Let's have some tea."
A few months have passed since then. Surprisingly you're still alive and the spell shows no signs of wearing away any time soon.
After the raid at your palace he's been nothing but sweet towards you. At first many people were against him courting you and a handful of his advisors attempted to steer his sights away due to suspicions and speculation that you were a "sinful witch" who had manipulated or even seduced him.
The day he had heard those rumors he caused an uproar and had fired the royal advisor who spread them around. "Impertinent fools have the audacity to make such comments about my Duchess." You would usually add in you were not worth such respect considering you were not officially a Duchess but the fiery blaze in his eyes had stopped you.
"Hey Lev, lets go have some tea they've learnt their lesson." You shot the gossiping maids a sympathetic look.
Being under the spell does not make him more tolerable towards other people is what you learnt that day.
Multiple women all with visuals worlds more appealing than your own approach him, some even sent by his advisors to set you up. They test if his love is strong enough to withstand the attacks of others. Time and time again he proves everyone wrong and doesn't think for a second to give up on you.
You're glad for that because through these few months you've ascertained how much you love the Duke for who he is. Well, who he's acting as. You want to slam your head against a concrete wall repeatedly when you think about the level of affection and tenderness you hold towards the man but you can not lie and say you hate him.
The fact that before meeting him you lived a life lacking of love and affection does not help your case either. It only makes it harder.
But it's painfully obvious to you that this is all truly one sided. You aren't really in love with the Duke but you're in love with the magic holding him hostage.
You share these thoughts to yourself as you take a short sip from your tea cup. Sasha has left the room to fetch some pastries and sweets. She takes her job seriously as head maid (you never address her as such because really she's just a friend to you). It's a chilly day hence why you've covered yourself up in a shawl, it coincidentally matches the beige drapes.
Suddenly a boy who you recognize to be one of the young apprentices by the name of Eren bursts through the doors of your tea room. His hair is all over the place and he's panting as he tries to formulate a sentence.
"Duke." Puff. " Duke Ackerman" Puff. "Refuses to return to the Imperial Palace and is threatening the Emperor stating he won't return to his duties!"
You ignore it and try to keep to your own affairs because who are you to interfere in military business? It's looked down upon to involve yourself in such matters.
You send him off and in the mean time Sasha makes her way back.
A few minutes later as the both of you are munching on a particularly sweet macron the palace's butler bursts in the same way as Jaeger and tries to get a word in but Sasha manages to interject first.
"My lady, perhaps you should check in on the Duke." she suggests.
You try to speak but the Butler cuts in abruptly.
"Duchess. I'm afraid he hasn't ate a meal in five days. Please talk to him."
"Mike there is no need to call me a Duchess when I hold no such title...wait the Duke hasn't ate for five days???"
You find it unbelievable that Levi has forgotten to eat or possibly starved himself for something.
Making your way to his office you enter with a speech prepared about how eating is one of the blessings you've been given and how it should be appreciated but instead you're met face to face with a trail of rose petals that lead to the Duke.
You stare at him in confusion. He holds a bouquet of roses in his hands and they kiss his chest, He gives you a look of admiration that can only be described as the look that is reserved for your one true love. His eyes glimmer and they shine along with his glossy raven hair. You look him up and down in astonishment.
He's arranged all this for you.
"I'd do anything to have you be by my side for all of eternity. Will you honor me with the opportunity of taking your hand?"
Just looking at this entirely different version of the Duke, you feel relieved and in the moment you recklessly accept his proposal. You know it's stupid, you know it's ignorant, you know you should be denying him but you can't make yourself ignore the will of your heart.
"I hope to live a long life. One with you present." he whispers into the shell of your ear, it tingles.
After weeks of the Duke's courting you accept his marriage proposal and the both of you quietly wed two months later.
He's so kind and affectionate that you're plagued with nightmares where the spell wears off.
In your nightmares he continues what he left unfinished. Every time he's about to plunge his sword into the depths of your chest he wakes you up and caresses your face in between his large hands. He wraps his arms around you after some time. Once your breathing relaxes he asks what has made you cry and you can't do anything to explain. It only hurts more seeing his concerned expression. The way his eyes flick between your eyes and trembling lips, you want to tell him the truth, instead you state that you"had a nightmare, and don't wish to talk about it." You don't want him asking questions over it.
It's another Wednesday and you're pacing back and forth in front of his office door arguing with yourself about whether or not you should enter. Finally, you decide to make your entrance and peek inside. You hear him arguing with his advisors as normal.
"Instead of blithering like a idiot and making excuses why don't yo-" he's midway through his sentence when he sees you at the doorway.
Dropping the previous matter he rushes over towards you and scoops you up in his arms. Smiling up at you, you smile back sheepishly ignoring the stares of his staff.
"Honey, why did you leave me? Where did you go?" He whines into your neck and you try to push him away shyly but he won't budge.
Everyone around you grimaces at his usual mood swings as well as the heavy flirting that he's targeting at you.
"You haven't come to eat dinner with me for three nights. You're the workaholic who left me." You swiftly retort his point and you pout at the end of your sentence. He pouts back and you can see his cheeks are tinged a blushed pink.
"Then we must dine immediately, you should have informed me that I had made you feel so neglected, my darling!"
After making your way to the dining room you and Levi are conversing happily as per usual when you spot his highly agitated secretary Mikasa. It settles in that she's been standing there for a considerable amount of time, time flies when you and Levi speak. She's clearly waiting for him to report back to duty.
The first time you had met Mikasa she was highly suspicious of you and would keep an eye on your movements at all times (literally) , you thought she perhaps fancied the Duke but later learnt that she was related to him and that was probably why she was on edge at the appearance of a new individual. Besides all that she's sweet really, sometime she joins you and Sasha for tea and you happily converse. She isn't much of a talker, more of a listener which works out well considering how extroverted Sasha is and how you love to story tell. You've shared many fond memories with her.
That's why you place a hand on Levi's shoulder and interrupt him.
"Why don't you return to your work? It's about time I send you back now." You suggest but he rolls his eyes in annoyance.
"Why do you keep on trying to get rid of me? I want to stay for a little longer. After all you are my wife. You count as one of my duties. If not the most important duty of all!" He's about to break out into one of his embarrassing speeches and you want to save Mikasa from that.
"Mikasa really needs you to complete your other duties. Do it for me Lev." You try and butter him up with the mention of his nickname. As expected he perks up and stands up to leave, not before placing a soft kiss on your cheek.
"Ah Lev, I'll be taking a short trip out today. Is that alright with you?"
You don't specify that 'out' means the Sunday Market place, he'll ask question after question.
He holds onto your chin with his thumb and leans in for a chaste kiss.
"Of course my darling. Be careful."
He giddily waves at you as he leaves and you wave back with the same enthusiasm. You giggle at the sight of Mikasa practically gagging at the two of you and glaring daggers at Levi.
The door then shuts and you're left alone.
All that accompanies you is silence and you purse your lips together trying to keep it together. Recently as soon as he turns away from you all you can think about is how this love of his is a hoax.
He doesn't really love you.
That doesn't stop all the sweet words he's ever uttered from flooding your memory.
"You're mine and I'm yours."
"My beautiful love."
"I love you I mean it." It hurts. He doesn't mean it.
But you'll keep the charade up. You'll find a way to keep him this way forever. It's selfish but you can't be blamed, It keeps you safe and happy.
Love is nice but you would prefer to live.
#levi ackerman#attack on titan levi#attack on titan#snk#aot#levi x reader#levi x y/n#levi aot#aot fanfiction#aot headcanons#levi fluff#levi smut#levi angst#duke levi#leviiattacks#levi fanfiction
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Any Other Name: Chapter 2
“Cordelia!” Her mother called up the stairs in a fake, chipper voice that held undercurrents of irritation Cordelia knew had nothing to do with her and everything to do with their company. “Our guests are here. Why don’t you come down and help me set the table for dinner?”
If she took to yelling up the stairs at her rather than walking the staircase or sending her father to come and retrieve her, she must be considerably uncomfortable.
“I’m coming!” said Cordelia so no one could come after her and find her kneeling on the floor over a removed floorboard with a secret letter in her hands.
Quickly, she folded the paper, stuck it back under the floorboard, and pushed the wood plank back into its place before pushing herself to her feet and brushed the dust off of her hands. She grabbed her black cardigan from off the bed and threw it on as she twisted the knob and opened the door and nearly walked right into Augustus Pounceby.
A small shriek escaped her as she fell back against the door frame, cursing in Persian, and clutched her chest.
Augustus smirked. The last time she’d seen him he had an impossibly round face, buck teeth, and a lisp that made it difficult to understand him. They’d been twelve years old at the time, but she didn’t think people could change so much in five years. He’d lost the roundness of his youth, grew several inches, and his teeth were a normal size. His dirty blond hair was cut short at the sides, long on the top, and perfectly coifed with products. He wore a black button-up t-shirt with the buttons done up to his neck, over dark denim jeans, and a pair of black and white trainers.
His smirk turned lascivious as his eyes roved over the length of her body, lingering on the bits her dress left exposed. She fought against the urge to close her cardigan around her.
“Pounceby,” said Cordelia by way of greeting. “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude and a bit creepy to lurk outside of someone’s bedroom door?”
“I was sent to fetch you,” he said, glancing over her shoulder into Lucie’s bedroom. “Your mother said that you’d give me a tour. I’ve always wanted to see the inside of the infamous London Institute.”
Cordelia unceremoniously closed the bedroom door behind her with a bit more force than necessary. Unfortunately, the movement made her step closer to Augustus. “No one’s ever invited you in before?”
“It wasn’t a matter of being invited,” said Augustus, not moving an inch to provide some space between them. “I wouldn’t have stepped one foot inside of this place with those demon-blooded Herondale’s living here. You can still smell their taint all over this place.”
Cordelia shoved her shoulder into his chest as she moved around him, fighting against the urge to also knee him in the solar plexus while simultaneously breaking his nose with her elbow. Her father probably wouldn’t appreciate her getting Pounceby’s blood all over the floor and he’d most likely make her clean it up, so she decided against bloodshed for tonight and keep things— cordial.
“Allow me to give you a tour then,” said Cordelia pointing to the walls as she walked towards the stairs. "This is the hallway and these are the--" She looked over her shoulder and realized Augustus wasn’t following her.
“What’s down this way?” He asked, nodding towards the other end of the hall.
She hadn’t bothered to wander farther than Lucie’s old bedroom. It felt wrong like she needed an invitation to go farther. There were two more doors at the end. One used to be a study and the other had been James’s bedroom.
She’d only ever been in there once the last time her family came to London for a visit. Lucie had gone on a trip to Paris with her Aunt Cecily, but James stayed home due to some punishment after an incident that happened at the Academy. James never told her and she never asked. Not that she could have, from a young age she was so enamored by James that she often found it difficult to form coherent sentences when she was around him. He was the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen. With his raven black hair, always unruly and curling at all ends like it’d been worked and shaped by the wind and his eyes, like golden flecks of sunlight framed by thick dark lashes. She remembered how they would crinkle at the edges when he smiled, and he always smiled at her.
They spent that entire week reading, wandering around the Institute, pretending to battle each other with the baguettes Tessa brought home for dinner. It'd started as the worst summer of her existence and ended as one she would never forget.
Warmth spread up her neck and into her cheeks at the memory of it. “There’s nothing down there. Come on, they’ll be wanting to eat soon.”
“The men are talking in the old, stuffy drawing room,” said Augustus as he turned on his heel and walked leisurely down the hall. “Come on, Carstairs. It’s your house now, you can do whatever you want in it.”
“I want to go downstairs and help my mum set the table,” said Cordelia, crossing her arms. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Wait just a moment,” drawled Pounceby. “Isn’t this goat eye's old bedroom?”
Cordelia glared. "Who?"
"James."
Cordelia bristled at the rude name he'd given James. “I don’t know. Why does it matter?”
“My interest is peaked is all.”
“Some infatuation of yours with James, Pounceby?” smirked Cordelia. “I’m sure he’ll be flattered, but somehow I doubt you’re his type.”
Augustus put his hand on the doorknob and tried to turn it but it wouldn’t move. “It’s locked.”
Relief swept through Cordelia. “That’s settled then. Let’s go to dinner.”
“Why is it locked?” Augustus tried the door again. “What’s in there?”
“How am I supposed to know. I did just tell you I haven't been there." Cordelia dragged her feet as she came beside him to try the door herself. It was, in fact, locked. “I’ll tell my father about it at dinner and he can find the key, or something.”
Augustus narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you hiding something in here?”
Cordelia’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”
“It was no secret you were a Herondale and downworlder sympathizer,” he said with a sneer that once again made Cordelia want to shove his face into the wall. “Is there a reason you don’t want me going in here?”
Cordelia’s empty hands clenched around the fabric of her cardigan to keep from swinging out against her will. “If you want to look stupid for claiming that my father has anything to hide from the Clave by dragging them away from their drinks to come up here and open a door that’s obviously been locked from the inside, only to find that it is as empty as all the rest?” She stepped aside so there was room for him to go around her. “Please, by all means, be my guest. I was really hoping for quality entertainment tonight and to see the look of disappointment on your father’s face will be well worth the wait.”
Augustus held her gaze for just a moment longer before he released his grip on the door and walked past her, whispering the word ‘bitch’ in a volume that was just loud enough for her to hear.
She’d been called worse.
When he was far enough down the hallway, she gave the doorknob another attempt, but just as before it wouldn’t budge.
Curious, she thought and tucked the anomaly away for a later time.
~ ~ ~
“Ah, there she is!” Her father said as Cordelia descended the stairs. Now with the lights all burning in their sconces from the wall, casting shadows from the chandeliers, they gave the Institute back some semblance of the warmth that Cordelia remembered when she would visit. It still felt odd without any Herondale presence; she half expected Will to come bursting through the door in a rage about the city traffic and Tessa to follow behind him with her genuine smile.
But the front door remained closed, much to Cordelia’s dismay, as she slowly sank from the last step.
“Cordelia, you remember Inquisitor Bridgestock?” said her father with a tight smile.
Cordelia looked to the tall man standing before her. He always reminded her of a toad with his round face, bulbous eyes, and thin mouth. He even had a rather large wart at the start of his right eyebrow.
“Well, Elias, what a beauty your daughter has become,” said the Inquisitor, folding his hands in front of himself, not even bothering to shake hers, because why would he? Perhaps he thought her dainty little hands couldn’t withstand his masculine dynamism.
She fought hard not to roll her eyes at her thoughts and plastered a smile across her face. “Oh yes, I remember him well.”
“And our new Consul, Marcus Pounceby?”
Her eyes shifted to the man standing beside the Inquisitor. He did offer her his hand, and when she placed it into his smooth palm, she could not feel a single callous on his fingers or palm. It made her wonder when the last time he trained, or patrolled, or held a weapon for that matter. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. A European custom and she was in Europe, but it still made her feel uneasy, small. At least, he wasn’t trying to kiss both of her cheeks like the French, which she didn’t mind, it just all depended on the person. Lucie and James’s cousin Anna was privy to that custom and with her, Cordelia didn’t mind it in the least.
“My son wouldn’t stop raving about you when he learned about your arrival,” said the Consul. “He spoke of your bravery, your skill, we are very lucky to have you back in England. He graduated from the Academy with top marks and has shown himself to lead a powerful squadron of Shadowhunters. You should speak to him about going out on raids together. He can show you around town.”
Her eyes flashed to Augustus, standing beside his father, looking rather bumptious. When she didn’t say anything for a good long time, her father nudged her with his elbow. “That would be delightful.”
She’d only used the word delightful possibly twice in her life. It tasted like poison coming out of her mouth, but it did its job. They both looked pleased with her which made it all the more difficult not to vomit on their shiny oxfords.
Only her father, who was attuned to her sarcasm and indifference after being the victim of it for sixteen years, noted the tone of her voice.
“Where is your son?” inquired the Consul.
“He stayed in Tehran to oversee the Institute until the new family moves in,” said her father. “He’ll be joining us just as soon as their settled.”
“Excellent,” said the Inquisitor. “Another student of the academy that succeeded with top marks. We could use him on the streets while this issue with the Downworlders is in effect and in meetings regarding demon and downworlder business. He had some dealing of his own with the Herondale boy, did he not?”
Cordelia looked to her father for an answer. She knew Alastair and James went to the academy at the same time and didn’t necessarily get along. Then some incident happened that resulted in James’ expulsion, but she didn’t know what that had to do with Alastair. He never told her even though she asked him nearly a hundred times.
Elias shifted a step so he stood closer to Cordelia. “Alastair only spoke of how troubled James was.” His eyes flashed to Cordelia. A warning and a plead not to say a word.
“Yes, well, with the filth that runs in that family’s blood it is no wonder he was capable of causing such a disturbance. He shouldn’t have been accepted into the academy in the first place,” said Inquisitor Bridgestock.
Cordelia bit the inside of her lip until she tasted blood.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Elias?” asked Bridgestock.
Elias breathed through his nose and straightened his shoulders. “Of course. Now that we’ve all been reacquainted, why don’t we move this discussion into the dining room. Sona has been slaving away in the kitchen for the better part of our move-in day to make this dinner special. Cordelia, please go help your mother.”
Cordelia gave them a half-hearted curtsy and dipped out of the entryway towards the hall that led to the kitchen. Upon noticing her angelic energy, the lights in the sconces along the walls flickered on with several distinct clinks and filled the space with a subtle glow. Cordelia put her hand on the swinging door that led into the kitchen where her mother, with a large ladle in hand, poured some kind of broth over the sliced pork chops lined neatly on a silver platter.
“I can’t do it,” said Cordelia as soon as the door swung shut again. “They are absolutely incorrigible. They called the Herondale’s filthy.”
Sona set the bowl of broth down on the crowded counter and started to pull the leaves off from a sprig of thyme. “You already knew they felt this way, Cordelia. This should not come as a surprise.”
“Yes, but to hear them say it out loud makes my skin crawl.” She picked up the serving fork and stabbed it into a pork chop. “I can’t even say anything to defend them. I just have to nod my head at all of their slurs. I might as well be stabbing my friends in the back.”
Sona wiped her hands on the cloth hanging over her shoulder as she turned to Cordelia. “Your friends know you, they know your truth, and they would want for you to protect yourself. If the situation was reversed and it was our family that had been banished, what would you want from James and Lucie?” After a moment, when Cordelia didn’t answer, Sona continued, “I knew Tessa well. She was a good friend. I know that if the situation was reversed, I would want Tessa to protect her family.”
“She was a good friend?” Cordelia emphasized the second word without looking at her mother. “Maybe I would want James and Lucie to protect themselves and not be banished like me, but I know I wouldn’t want them to stop seeing me as their friend.”
Sona opened her mouth and sighed. “Cordelia—“
“Let’s just feed the monsters so they can leave.” Cordelia picked up the platter of steaming pork chops and started towards the swinging door, leaving her mother to look as dejected as Cordelia felt.
Once in the dining room, still decorated in Tessa’s elegant taste with gold and white herons flying across the wallpaper with holly in their beaks, Cordelia set the platter of pork onto the center of the mighty oak table. The chandelier hung low with sphere-shaped crystals that cast rainbows across the walls when the light from the large arched window at the west side of the room hit them. The table was set for only six people tonight with Elias at the head closest to the window.
Cordelia had no choice but to sit beside Augustus, as all the other spots had been taken.
Sona followed in after her, free now of her emerald green apron and kitchen towels, carrying a plate of scorched rice and another plate of fresh-herb Kuku-- Cordelia’s favorite. A twinge of guilt went through her as she noticed the plates of comfort food her mother had prepared for no one else, but Cordelia.
“Sorry about the wait, gentlemen,” said Sona as she placed the food on the table. “I hope you’re all hungry and wish to expand your palettes. These are all dishes from Tehran. We thought you might like to experience something from our home.”
Augustus looked at the green pie-shaped dish placed directly in front of him as if it might come to life and attack him.
“It’s called Kuku,” said Cordelia, serving herself a large piece before anyone else. “It’s delicious.”
“It’s green,” said Augustus and looked to his father for help.
Consul Pounceby just laughed. “You didn’t have to go out of your way for us. We would have been happy with fish and chips or a nice shepherds pie.” He forked a piece of pork onto his plate with a small helping of scorched rice.
"What kind of pie?" asked Cordelia with a mouth full of Kuku.
“I thought it might be nice to have something from home for our first night here,” said Sona.
“It’s looks wonderful, darling,” said Elias.
The conversation took a small reprieve as everyone ate their meals. Metal forks clinked against plates and ice rattled around in glassware in the silence. Marcus Pounceby chewed with his mouth open and took a particular fondness to the Kuku, though his son took one bite and then refused to acknowledge it again. Inquisitor Bridgestock proceeded to take a drink of his wine after each bite to clear his throat. Cordelia felt a brief sense of satisfaction at the light sheen of sweat that coated his brow after having a piece of pork.
“We’re not used to such flavors here in England,” said Inquisitor Bridgestock, dabbing his face with his napkin. “It’s quite exotic.”
“I may have gone a bit heavy handed on the peppers,” said Sona as she soaked a piece of her pork in the sauce. “Can I get anyone some water or milk, perhaps?”
Cordelia forced herself not to laugh.
“Milk?” inquired Marcus. “Does that help?”
“It does,” said Sona.
“That won’t be necessary.” Bridgestock patted his distended stomach. “I’m quite finished as is. If I drink a glass of milk you’ll have to roll me out the door or call my wife and have her come drive me home.”
“How is Mary Beth?” asked Sona. “It’s a shame she couldn’t come tonight. I did look forward to seeing her again.”
Another easy lie from her mother. The last time Mary Beth and Sona met, Sona couldn’t stop talking about what a deplorable know-it-all with questionable moral Mary Beth was and how the Bridgestock’s may have not been the best family to adopt the young Ariadne girl. To go from such strong feelings towards the Bridgestock's to inquiring about her as if her absence was missed surprised Cordelia. Her mother’s ability to be so languid never ceased to amaze her.
“She’s well. She simply didn’t want to be present for a bunch of Clave talk.” Bridgestock wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Not when she had a previously schedules game of bridge with some of the other wives. You should go sometime, Sona.”
Her mother’s tight smile was all Cordelia needed to know. She’d been invited to a few bridge games and attended one thinking that at least Tessa would be there and she’d have someone to talk to, but when she got home Sona looked exhausted and explained that all the women at the bridge club did was gossip, smoke, and drink expensive wine. There was not one game of bridge to be played. She then went into a rather hilarious impression of the Inquisitor's wife, with her pinched face and animated hands that may have been slightly exaggerated, but had even Alastair snickering.
“Perhaps when things are a bit more settled,” said Sona and took a long drink from her water glass.
“That reminds me,” said Marcus as he placed his napkin on the table, “we’ve interrupted your move in day. We apologize. We’ll get out of your way just as soon as we finish some business with Elias. Should we retire to the study, gentlemen?”
“Yes,” said Bridgestock as he rose from the table. “There is much to discuss regarding this Downworlder business. We’ll need to brief you on some of the changes we’re making regarding the laws and how we are expecting those on patrol to be our inforcers. We’d appreciate your opinion on a few of these matter before we hold the official Clave meeting in two weeks.”
“Uh, yes,” said Elias as he stood from the table too. “Cordelia, would you mind helping your mother with the dishes and then come and join us—“
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” said the Inquisitor. “Our talk will just bore her. We can explain everything to her at the official meeting with the rest of the Clave.”
Elias’s grip flexed on his dining room chair. “My daughter will be one of those patrolling the streets of your city. I would like for her to be prepared and understand what is expected of her.”
“Kill demons and any downworlders that dares to step out of line,” whispered Augustus under his breath. “Not much else left to understand.”
Demons can take the shape of many things, she thought. Even privileged, annoying boys.
She might be able to plead her case against the Clave if she were to accidentally stab him.
“It will all be explained at the meeting,” continued Bridgestock. “Until then, Cordelia will not be allowed to patrol alone and will instead train with Augustus.”
Cordelia couldn’t stop the pinched look that took over her face. Her mother nudged her underneath the table before anyone could see her.
The men filed out of the dining room, leaving their half-cleared plates of food for Cordelia and Sona to clean up. They piled the dishes and separated the silverware in silence before carting everything back into the kitchen.
Sona turned on the faucet over the deep bucket sink and held her hand under it waiting for the water to warm while Cordelia continued to bring plates in and set them on the small island.
She glanced at the old grandfather clock that stood in the hallway each time she passed it. Only two more hours and she could find Lucie. Finally, there would be someone she could speak freely about all of this to and not constantly be shut down; told to smile, and bear it.
The large hand steadily clicked on, but not fast enough.
Not nearly fast enough.
A/N:
This chapter does include some artistic license. To make it relative to the times, I changed it from James having to stay home from a Paris trip due to being expelled from school rather than being sick with the Scarlet Fever.
I also made up Augustus's appearance. It is not canon. It's just how he looks in my head.
Also I have no clue what Inquisitor Bridgestock's wife's name is so I'm calling her Mary Beth.
Comments and hearts are ALWAYS appreciated!
Next update comes out in two weeks: May 28
#the shadowhunter chronicles#jordelia fanfiction#the last hours#chain of gold#chain of iron#cassandra clare#james herondale#cordelia carstairs#james x cordelia#lucie herondale#matthew fairchild#thomas lightwood#christopher lightwood#alastair carstairs
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The Honeymoon
So finally, a little late, this is my piece for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge that the lovely @oh-honey-styles, @andwhenshesays and @for-fucks-sake-h organised. For those of you who read my writing on Wattpad it's basically a peek at Harry and Jessi's honeymoon. Thank you to everyone who reads this. I hope you enjoy! x
Breathe me in, breathe me out, they don't think that they could ever go without.
Rated M for Mature. 4.5K words.
I stumble out from inside our private honeymoon villa and the bright sunlight stings my eyes. I flip down the sunglasses I’m using as a makeshift hairband - a habit I’ve picked up from my husband - so they shield my gaze. Our two weeks here are quickly coming to an end and if it wasn’t for our daughter waiting back home, I don’t think you could drag me away from here. We’ve barely left the confines of the villa but every detail has been perfect, from lazy breakfasts in bed, to curling up with Harry while he reads me poetry, some from books and some that he’s written himself, those are my favourites.
“Ah, there he is,” I whisper. Zeroing in on my target lounging on a giant heart-shaped pool float. He looks so still and peaceful that I wonder if he’s asleep but he flips the page in his book softly and my insides do a little somersault, I’d missed him during my nap - a consequence of the teeny tiny little one growing inside me. My feet tiptoe down the steps as I make my way closer.
He looks every inch like a tempting meal and I’m dying to taste him - another consequence of my pregnancy. Maybe not. He always looks like a snack. His hair is wet, indicating he’s recently been for a swim and his skin seems to shimmer under the sun's rays. His chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm and my gaze moves lower. The muscles in his abdomen are taught and defined and the tips of my fingers tingle as I imagine brushing them over his warm skin.
Something between a gasp and a moan leaves my throat as I spot the white, wet boxers, almost see through as they cling to every glorious inch of him.
“Mmm… you’re alive then?” The low rumble of his voice has me attempting to discretely rub my thighs together to relieve some of the pressure building there. “Thought I would have to spend the entire day by myself.” The accompanying pout on his face would usually be adorable but combined with the facial hair he’s so proud of growing all I can think about is how much I want his mouth. Hell, I want all of him. Immediately.
“Don’t be dramatic. I’ve only been gone a couple of hours.” I grin as I sit myself down on the edge of the pool, beside his glass of tequila.
“Feels like a lifetime!” The cheeky glint in his gorgeous green eyes make me shuffle on my bum. He quirks his eyebrows at me when I pick up the amber liquid and inhale deeply before sitting it back down. “I could make you a virgin mojito if you’re thirsty.” He offers.
“Just like the smell of it. Reminds me of you, of stolen little kisses, moments just for us while you work a room.” I have learned how to share my new husband with his many fans and admirers and the fact that he always makes sure I’m having a good time definitely helps.
“C’mere,” he growls. He curls his pointer finger in a beckoning motion but I shake my head.
“You come here!” I tease my fingers up my thighs and open them wide so he can see that I have no underwear on before quickly closing them again.
“Fuck!” His Adam's Apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard and a loud giggle escapes my mouth as he paddles toward me, looking like a man who can definitely give me everything I desire right now.
I move my head from side to side as he tries to make his way to the edge of the pool; I reach over and wrap my fingers around the pointy end of the heart and pull him over so he’s floating in front of me.
“Now what?” He smirks, sitting up on the float while his hands grab for my knees.
I giggle as I wag my finger at him, “Lie down!”
He blows out a huge puff of air as he sinks back onto the red heart, folding his arms across his chest and letting a pout rest on his pink lips.
“What’s the matter, H? Don’t you want to play with me?”
“That’s what I was trying to do…” his voice trails off as his green eyes fix on my fingers, slowly tracing up my thighs.
“You know, you’re pretty adorable when you get all huffy,” I smirk. I lean forward, making sure he gets a good look down his shirt to see that I’m not wearing a bra either. He lets out a moan as I softly scratch his thighs and I feel like throwing myself on him instantly.
“I’m not adorable. I’m rugged, handsome, sexy as hell.” He chuckles gently as I hook my hands under his knees and pull him closer. I drop his legs down on either side of my body and hope that’s enough traction, so he won’t float away.
“You look really shiny.” I place my hands gently against his swallow tattoos.
“Mmm… I might have put on a little too much sun cream.” His bashful smirk makes my heart race. “That’s what happens when you leave me to my own devices.”
I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from my chest. He’s such a dork. “Sort of reminds me of the lights up music video.”
“Ha. You hate that video.” He scoffs.
“Hate watching other people with their hands on what is mine,” I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I slowly run my fingers down his toned body before stopping just below his butterfly.
“Yours huh?” he teases.
“Mine!” I reply while confidently pointing towards my wedding ring. “Legally binding.”
“I like it when you get all possessive, Mrs Styles. Officially making you mine was the best day of my life so far, apart from the day Robi was born.”
“I’m still not used to hearing you call me that.” My hands inch a little lower.
“I love saying it. Mrs Styles. Mrs Styles. Mrs Styles.” His fingers wrap around my wrists before I can react, and he effortlessly holds me in place. “Now, Mrs Styles, are you gonna let me fuck you or are you planning to tease me all fucking day?”
“You know, our three-year-old displays more patience than you!” I snap, well aware of the fact that between his hands on my wrists and his legs either side of mine, he has me trapped. No getting out unless I can make him slip up, lose his focus.
“Patience? Is that what you expected me to have when you came out here and gave me a perfect view of your panty-less pussy?” His words hurtle at me in a low growl and I no longer care who is in control, I just want him to take me. “You’re very lucky I haven’t bent you over that sun lounger yet…” he trails off as a whimper leaves my throat, “is that what you want from me? Does my pretty little wife want me to pound into her so hard she can’t walk straight? Claim her as mine? Mark her skin? Would you like that, baby?” His green eyes have darkened considerably and I can tell from the strain in his white boxers that he’s just as needy as I am.
“Yes. Please, Harry?” I beg. Before I can process that he’s let me go, he’s climbed out of the pool and places a hand on my shoulder. He holds his other hand out in front of me and when I grab on he practically hauls me up off the ground. Despite his urgency his hand holds mine carefully as he pulls me toward the sun lounger which is more like an outdoor four poster bed. He stops at the bottom of the piece of furniture and pulls me towards him. His hands trail up my thighs as he presses his hardened length against me. He drags my clothing with him as his hands slide over my bum, giving a hard squeeze which sends shivers all over my body. “I love this arse,” he teases while giving it a playful tap.
I reluctantly take a step back from him and hold my hands above my head so he can easily remove the t-shirt.
“Now, who’s impatient?” He chuckles while effortlessly pulling the fabric over my head and tossing it away with a careless flick of his wrist. “Beautiful,” he whispers. His eyes drink me in like fine wine and I moan needily as his fingers trail from my collarbone, over the swell of my breast and down my stomach, pausing imperceptibly where the beginnings of my baby bump has started to show. His fingers dawdle where the edge of my panties would be and I try to wriggle higher.
“Harry…” I murmur as his hands move to grip my hips.
“Shh. I got you,” he says as he presses a kiss to the scar on my collarbone, sucking hard until he’s left his mark. His tongue pokes out to wet the spot, and he continues to trail wet, ravenous kisses down my chest until he reaches my breasts. He cups the left one in his hand while his mouth makes light work of sucking and flicking the nipple on the other.
“Please?” I beg as he switches. I need him to touch me or I will explode.
“Shh…” he coos and my hips buck into his hand as he slides a finger through my folds with a featherlight touch.
“Please Harry? I need more.” I whine as he presses his finger to me with a miniscule amount more pressure.
“Adore it when you beg for me, baby.”
We’ll see who is begging in a second I think to myself as I drag my nails up his muscular thighs.
“Fuck!” He yells as I trace the outline of his dick before sliding my palm over him.
“So… you gonna give me this? Or just tease me all fucking day?” I steal his words from earlier and a high-pitched giggle bursts from my mouth as he picks me up before quickly putting me back down again.
“Don’t want you on the bed,” he mutters out loud before grabbing my hands and pressing them against one of the posts, “lower.” He presses his hand to my head and carefully pushes my upper body downwards until I’m bent over with my arse in the air.
He hums as he drags his fingers along my spine and my entire body shudders with anticipation. “Look at you,” he coos while he caresses bum, “proper little work of art, can see how wet you are for me, gonna hold on tight?” I moan as his fingers slide between my thighs, circling where I ache for him before pressing firmly on my clit.
“Mhmm.” It’s the only sound I can manage as he continues to tease me, the exact way I like. I shuffle forward so I can hug my upper body to the post, the wood resting against my shoulder. A whimper leaves my lips as he slips a finger inside me and my cheeks flush as I can hear my wetness in the quiet of the secluded grounds.
“Shit! I need you, baby,” My husband’s voice is laced with hunger and I press myself further into his hand.
“I’m yours, Harry. All yours,” my voice is breathy and just as starved as his. His fingers slick with my arousal rest on my bum as he shuffles down his boxers and my skin tingles when I feel his tip pressing at my entrance. His right hand digs into my flesh as he stands perfectly still and my mouth falls open to tell him to get a move on but before I can make a sound, he slides inside in one smooth motion causing all the air to exit my lungs.
“Feel so good,” he moans and I agree whole-heartedly as my body accommodates him. I squeeze around him to let him know it’s okay for him to move and move he most certainly does. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into me with a force that almost knocks me off my feet. I grip the post tighter as Harry’s hands grip my hips, his second thrust more restrained than the first.
He shifts his stance ever so slightly and I let out a loud “OOHHH!” as his movements are now hitting exactly where I want them to.
“Know exactly how to take care of you, baby” he groans. I feel his fingers in my hair and a jolt of electricity shoots through me as he winds his hands in it and pulls, it’s gentle at first but as I moan louder he pulls harder. The pain mixed with the pleasure he’s providing feels so good that my orgasm is almost upon me before I realise it.
“Fuck me harder, H! I’m - god, I’m so close!”
“Jesus! Fuck! Me too!” He grunts. “Squee-zing me so - tight! Fingers…” the last word comes out as a sharp intake of breath and my fingers have moved to my clit before I even fully understand his instruction.
“Shit! I love you Love you! Love you!” I repeat the mantra over and over again until Harry’s loud moan drowns me out. Both hands now have a death grip on my hips as he holds me perfectly still. The wetness I can feel between my legs means we’re both going to need a shower but right now I don’t think I can move. The term fucked out is an accurate description and I’m sure if Harry lets me go then I’ll just fall to the floor in one satisfied little heap. I wish honeymoons lasted longer than a few weeks.
-----
“Is it time to call our favourite girl?” Harry calls from the kitchen as he gets us both something to drink. After our escapades by the pool, we’d moved to a relaxing bath which quickly turned heated as did drying off afterwards. We’ve just finished dinner and now is our usual time to call the little missing piece of our puzzle.
“Mhmm!” I yell back.
“You sure all you want is water?” His voice grows closer and I reach for my laptop which is open on the coffee table.
“Yeah, and you better put some clothes on,” I smile as my eyes roam his butt-naked body before taking the bottle of water he’s holding out towards me.
“What for? She can’t see me through a phone call,” he grins as he flops down onto the sofa beside me, the ice cubes in his Tequila rattle against the glass.
“Not calling. Your Mum asked us to Facetime tonight.” I straighten out the sundress and run my fingers through my hair as if my mother-in-law isn’t well aware that I probably spent all day in bed with her son. Lord knows she’d caught us together enough times. I press my hands to my cheeks as I feel the warmth spreading there.
“Facetime? I thought that was a no go after Robi had a meltdown on day one?” He places his glass on my thigh as he reaches for a pair of discarded boxers that lie on the floor.
“Apparently our girl misses us and is giving Grandma Twist a hard time so she’s hoping seeing our faces will help.” I explain while I watch Harry wriggle into his underwear. He reaches for a black hoodie that has sat on the arm of the sofa since we arrived here and pulls it over his head, he looks so soft and cuddly that I yank him back down beside me as soon as he slips his arms into the sleeves.
“I know seeing your pretty face would make me feel better,” he says as he presses a soft kiss to my lips and clicks to start the call.
“Such a charmer.” I grin and snuggle myself into his side as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. The connection stutters for a while before settling down and Anne grins as she says hello.
“Mummy!” Robin yells excitedly before she shakes her head and then buries her head in the crook of her Grandma’s neck. “Daddy, all hairy!” she wails.
“Am not!” He protests before running his hand over his facial hair, “oh, for fuck’s sake,” he mumbles as he pushes himself up from the seat.
“Where are you going?” I grip his arm tight. “She’ll settle down in a bit.” I didn’t want him to miss out on talking to her, I know he’s missed her. The two of them go almost everywhere together back home, I’ve even found her waiting impatiently outside the bathroom for him before.
“Just talk to her. I’ll be back.” He bends over and places a kiss to my forehead. My heart hurts as I watch him walk away.
I turn back to the screen as I hear Robin’s hissy fit get louder.
“Shut up!” she snaps at Anne and my anger fizzles over.
“Excuse me?” I exclaim.
“Grandma said I no have a cookie!” Her lips purse together in an angry little pout as she throws her arms across her chest.
“I don’t care what Grandma said, you don’t speak to her like that, it’s not nice and you hurt Daddy’s feelings.”
“Daddy sad? Where he go?” She says, her eyes focus on the empty space beside me while she leans in closer. “I WANT DADDY!” I can see her Grandma flinch at the volume of her voice and I feel bad that so far this call is doing nothing to calm my daughter, Anne must be at her wits' end.
“Robin, calm down. Daddy’s here.”
“Tell her I’ll be there in a few minutes!” Harry’s yell is barely audible over our daughter.
“Robin Ann Styles if you don’t quit screaming I’m going to turn this off and you can go straight to bed, are you listening?” Anne says firmly, and she quietens down. Her sniffling breaks my heart, maybe it was selfish of me and Harry to come on this honeymoon for two weeks, she’s never been away from either of us for more than a few days before.
“We’ll be home soon, just two more sleeps, sweetheart. We miss you.” My fingers stretch out towards the screen, wishing they could take the place of Anne’s which are gently wiping away her tears.
“Miss you, Mummy” She breathes, her tongue pokes out to lick away her snot, making me shudder.
“Hey, Daddy found you some pink shells yesterday!” I smile. It was the one thing she’d begged Harry for when he’d asked her what she wanted him to bring home. Every day, he’d disappear for an hour while he combed the beach for pink shells. He had found plenty of purple ones, orange ones, even golden coloured ones but none in the colour his little sweet pea desired. His dazzling grin as he arrived back victorious yesterday was enough to warm my heart for an entire lifetime.
“He did? I see?” Her mouth slowly turning up into a small smile.
I glance over my shoulder and still find no sign of my husband. “H? Where are you? Bring the shells for Robin, she wants to see them!”
“BE THERE IN A COUPLE OF MINUTES!” His voice booms through the house causing me to flinch.
“O-kay!” She yells back quietly and I watch as she lumbers back onto Anne’s lap. A smile settles on my face as I watch my daughter snuggle into her Grandma’s embrace, she cups her head softly against her chest, her thumb stroking softly over her granddaughter's cheek. It makes me feel warm because her Daddy holds her the exact same way.
“Judging by your tan, you guys have at least made it outside then?” Anne chuckles as Robin quietens down, so much so that I think she might fall asleep. “Wait, what the hell have you done to your shoulder?”
“Oh!” I can feel the blush creep over my cheeks as I glance at my right shoulder, the angry purple bruise had started to appear a few hours after Harry had fucked me against the bedpost. “I - uhm…”
“Did somebody want to see some shells?” His body bumps mine as he falls into the space beside me and honestly I want to smother him in a grateful hug for saving me from answering that question.
“Me!” Robin suddenly springs from her sleepy state, her wide dimply grin a mirror image of her Dad’s. “Oooh… they twisty like ice cream,” she coos. Her body leans in for a closer look and I rest my head against Harry as he throws his arm around me.
“Do you like them?” I snuggle closer when I hear the nervous wobble in his voice. Performing in front of 60,000 people. Easy. Waiting to hear if his daughter likes her shells. Bag of nerves. I let out a giggle before placing a kiss to his hoodie clad chest.
“Yay, you cut the whiskeys!” My head immediately snaps up towards Harry’s as my daughter's words ring in my ears. I cup my left hand to his cheek, my thumb brushing over his smooth upper lip.
“Hey, I liked that.” I blow out a slight puff of air.
“Uh oh, Robi! I think you got me in trouble with Mummy!” He smirks, quirking an eyebrow at me.
“No be mad, Mummy! He bootiful!”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.” I’m unable to stop myself smiling as my eyes continue to drink him in. My body tingles with desire as he leans towards me.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers against my ear. He presses a teasing kiss there before straightening up and turning his attention back to the screen.
“So… you like your shells then?”
“I wuv ’em, Daddy.” She’s cuddled herself back into Anne and her eyes are so heavy she can barely keep them open.
“I love you.” The tinge of sadness in his voice is obvious and as his fingers grip me tighter I know he is missing Robin just as much as she is missing him.
“Wuv you and Mummy.” She yawns loudly before falling quiet again.
“Okay, I’m going to let you guys go. Put this little madam to bed.” Anne smiles.
“Has she been that bad?” Harry asks.
“Oh, the past few days I’d swear somebody switched her with the devil. She stayed with Danny and Pam yesterday and decided Severus would be her new dress up buddy. Well, he didn’t take kindly to that, so he gave her a nasty scratch on her leg and that set off the tantrums. Didn’t want anyone to look at it that wasn’t you guys. Then she had a nightmare last night. She just misses you. She’ll feel better now she’s getting some rest. So will Grandma.” She chuckles. “Now go, have fun! Enjoy your time together before you have another little handful, they’ll be here before you know it.”
My fingers automatically press against my tiny bump. I honestly can’t wait to meet him. I have a feeling it’s a boy this time but maybe that’s just my heart ruling my head.
“Love you, Mum.”
“Me too.” I quickly add. “Thank you for taking care of our baby.”
“Are you kidding? Despite her moodiness I love having her here. She’s Grandma’s little sunshine.” She beams. “Now go before you wake her and she causes a minor thunder storm again!”
Harry closes the laptop once we’ve exchanged a last set of goodbyes.
“Baby?” he questions. His arms wrap around me and he turns me to face him.
“I know. I miss her too. You ready to go home, Mr Styles?” I press a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“I love you!” He exclaims, pushing me backwards so I fall down onto the sofa. “Do you know that?”
“I do.” I answer honestly as his body straddles mine.
“Make me so fucking happy -” he slides his hands up the side of my body, stopping on my ribs, his thumbs brushing the underside of my boobs, “-and horny.” His smirk makes his green eyes twinkle with mischief. “I can’t wait to watch this little bump grow.” He bends to press a soft kiss to the fabric of my dress, exactly where our little one is busy growing. “You know, I don’t think I told you this… no nevermind it’s silly.” he shakes his head before turning away from me and burying it in my side.
“Hey, no. Tell me, H,” My hand moves to rest on his head, fingers automatically combing through his messy curls.
“Promise you won’t laugh?” His right hand fists the material covering my bump as he presses needy kisses to my side.
“Course I won’t” My fingers scrape gently along his scalp and he presses into my touch.
“I was really nervous about this,” he breathes as he continues his trail up my side.
“About kissing me? Pull the other one, Styles!” I scoff as he nips his teeth against the side of my boob.
“No, well, kind of. I was nervous about the honeymoon,” his words tickle my skin as he slips the strap of my dress off my shoulder, “felt like everyone expected me to get you pregnant. I mean it’s not a secret we want more kids, and Robi is three now. I felt like everyone thought it was time and then when you told me you were pregnant at the wedding this giant pressure lifted off my shoulders. It’s been so good just to enjoy this time together, to enjoy you…” his words trail off as he presses a kiss to the sensitive spot below my ear.
“Sweetie, why didn’t you say something?” I turn my head to capture his pink lips in a kiss.
“You were already stressed about wedding stuff. Made everything perfect for us. Was beautiful. You were beautiful. Then you told me about this little one so it turned out all right in the end, didn’t it?” His hand presses to my stomach as his lips ghost mine.
“I guess it did. I love you.”
“Love you too. Now come on, there’s still one more place in this villa I want to have you before we leave. That outdoor bath has our names on it.” His deep chuckle makes my skin tingle. I will miss this place but I can’t wait to go home and begin my forever with Harry.
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all is soft inside chapter 7
a miragehound multichapter fanfiction
Also posted on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475064/chapters/67350442
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7. i carry more than you see
A gloved hand meets smooth steel and pushes gently, opening the door. The hinges whine for a moment before going quiet. Bloodhound exits their apartment, locks the door behind them, and heads for the stairs to the roof.
They know they can very well take the elevator and avoid the extra strain, but a part of them needs the burn. They need the dull scorch in their chest to keep them going. To keep them sane. To remind them why they’re here. After all, it’s only a few flights from their floor to the roof. They can manage.
They pass Octavio’s apartment on their way, and they smile. Loud engine noises beat through the walls as Octavio plays yet another racing game. Bloodhound was sure his pursuit of speed and adrenaline would slow to a crawl one day, but certainly not yet.
Reaching the stairwell, they pull out their phone for a brief moment. It’s a simple thing, not at all fancy like those belonging to their fellow Legends, but it does the job. As usual, the screen is blank and wordless, showing only the time in white numbers against a blank background. For a moment they wish that someone would send them a message, but who do they know that would? They stuff the phone back into the pocket of their thick outer jacket and sigh, annoyed with themself.
As they ascend the stairs, the familiar ache in the lungs reminds them of the first time they’d tried to navigate a stairwell after the accident. The steep, sturdy staircase leading up to their room in the loft of Artur’s home became a behemoth, an impossible obstacle to overcome for so long. They had made it up halfway before their lungs screamed at them to stop. They’d collapsed onto the steps, weeping brokenly, and abandoned their attempt, opting to burrow into a pile of warm furs on the bottom floor instead. The coolant in their lungs had frozen and damaged some of their lung tissue, and the village medics told them they were extremely lucky to be alive. The respirator they had found proved to be an essential part of their life, and they had used many over the years since then.
Now, as they near the top, their lungs burn but they do not falter. They scale the last few steps with ease, inhaling deeply. The air that passes down their throat to their creaking lungs soothes each protesting corner and calms the heat that circulates inside. Bloodhound places a hand over their heart, willing it to slow, willing it to return to its normal rhythm.Their blood pumps hard, flowing throughout their body, filling them with a sense of satisfaction. It had been many, many years since the accident, but they still felt a quiet sense of pride and assurance when they could scale a flight of stairs.
Quite ironic, is it not? Bloodhound thinks. They risked their life every day, killing and hunting and killing again, but the most meaningful victory was standing at the top of a staircase, knowing they had made it. But why? Why did that matter so much, when their prowess as a hunter was so much more important? They push at the door to the roof and it swings open with a heavy creak.
A cold chill runs across their skin and they stuff their gloved hands into their pockets. Bloodhound breathes deeply, letting the cool air tickle their throat on the way down.
“Um…”
They jump, and turn to their left. To their surprise, Elliott stands there in the corner, holding a bottle of beer, and the energy around him is suspiciously sad and forlorn again. His eyes are gleaming dully, and Bloodhound realizes they have walked in on a very private moment.
“Elliott,” they say, their voice coming out much too high, even through the modulator. They clear their throat, and continue. “My apologies. I do not wish to interrupt you. I will leave, if that is what you desire.”
“No, no, it’s okay. Really.” Elliott’s voice is quiet and tight, like it was the last time they had found each other here. He sniffs, and Bloodhound averts their eyes as he turns away, a hand going to his face.
“If you are certain…” Bloodhound trails off, waiting for a response. Elliott gives none, so Bloodhound crosses over to him, but leaves a respectable distance between them.
Neither of them say anything for several minutes. Elliott occasionally takes a drink from his bottle, and soon drains it completely. It clinks as he sets it down on the ground. He sighs and leans against the balcony, propping himself up with his elbows. Bloodhound runs their fingers over the rough stone. They let their thoughts wander here and there, but they occasionally glance over at Elliott. His expression is far away and glassy, but not from alcohol- he doesn’t seem to be drunk.
“What troubles you, félagi?” they ask softly.
Elliott snorts, a short sound filled with derision and a surprising amount of venom. “What doesn’t trouble me?” he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Seems like I can barely keep my head on straight these days.”
“What is it you need?” Bloodhound asks, and a strange desire to put their hand on his arm takes place under their sternum. They ignore it.
Elliott sighs heavily, and massages his temples. “I…” He breaks off, his voice giving out. His next words come out in a tangled, frustrated tumble. “I need to stop being such a useless mess in the Games, I need my mom to stop losing her goddamn mind, I need my dad to stop being such a dickhead, I need my brothers to come out of whatever fucking hiding hole they’re in and help me, goddammit-” His voice breaks again, and his jaw is set and trembling. The sudden surge of anger startles Bloodhound; he had not seemed to be quite so agitated when they arrived. His eyes shine again, and he shakes his head, staring at his hands.
Bloodhound moves as though they are in a dream, and before they know what they’re doing, they’re at his side. They touch his shoulder, and squeeze it gently. Elliott jumps, but relaxes into their touch. He stands straight for a few more moments, shaking slightly, then he groans. “God, I’m so pathetic, sorry,” he says, his voice constricted. “I can’t believe I’m actually crying right now. And in front of you, too. The last person I want to cry in front of.” He wipes his face angrily and shakes Bloodhound’s hand off as he walks away. His foot collides with the beer bottle, and it goes skittering across the floor, clinking faintly.
Their hand is cold as they bring it back to their side. Discomfort and rejection pool in their stomach, but they press it down, promising themself they will process it later. “You are neither useless nor pathetic, Elliott,” they assert. “Your emotions do not make you a lesser person. They make you strong.”
“Strong?” He laughs, and it hurts. “Strong? You’re kidding, right? You’re going to stand there and look at me and tell me I’m strong?” His words are scathing, and he glares at them, angry and in pain.
“Yes, Elliott, I am,” they shoot back. “Because despite your poor opinion of yourself, you are a worthy teammate. I quite enjoy fighting by your side.”
“But why?” he asks, his voice becoming more emphatic. He’s pacing, his hands knotting in his voluminous hair. “Why, Bloodhound? Nothing about me has been strong lately. I lose it every time I hear my mom’s voice on the phone and she asks who she’s talking to. I’m her son. She should know me!” he gasps, anguish working its way across his face. “And my useless shithead of a dad d- des- abandons us just as soon as things get shitty, only to come crawling back the second he gets wind of his youngest son being in the Apex Games. Everyone knows the only thing he’s after is the money- he can’t be bothered to step back in and be an actual dad. He wasn’t even that great anyway.” Elliott trembles as he speaks, spitting out the words like they’re poison in his veins, left by the gaping maw of some unseen, ravenous creature.
“And then my glorious, wonderful, perfect brothers all ran off to join the fight when the war started. They all had something to prove, something to hold themselves up to. Dumbasses just wanted to be better than their dear old dad. They just left behind their kid brother to grow up alone and wonder where they’d gone.” His voice breaks again, and Bloodhound has to resist the sudden urge to gather him in their arms. He turns away, and they avert their eyes once more as he shakes.
Bloodhound waits, struggling and grasping to find the right thing to say. They feel different- exposed, or scrutinized, even. They had always been a sympathetic person, but it had been a very long time since they wanted to hold someone the way they wanted to hold Elliott.
“You are very well within your rights to feel scared and powerless,” Bloodhound soothes, trying to quiet their intrusive thoughts. “All of this is enough to make anyone deeply upset.”
“I don’t have time for this!” Elliott yells, waving his hands wildly. “I don’t have time to process all of this. I need to focus on the Games. It’s been weeks since I came out on top. Every damn time I get close, something goes wrong. I slip up, or I make a dumb decision, or I just sit there staring at you like a dumbass because you’re so—” He stops abruptly, eyes going wide, cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red. “...because you’re such a badass,” he finishes lamely, and he turns away.
Bloodhound remains quiet for a moment, mulling over the implications behind the unspoken words. What was he about to say? It certainly wasn’t “beautiful”— anyone would agree that Bloodhound’s chances of being attractive had splintered like their skin all those years ago. Perhaps it was “skilled”? But no, why would he stop himself from saying that? They close their eyes and push the question away, resolving to think about it another time.
“My success does not invalidate your worth as a person,” they reply. “Elliott, you are a smart man. You are capable and strong. But if you do not allow yourself to feel these things, they will haunt you forever.”
“And how exactly do you propose that I feel things, huh?” he asks, exasperated and impatient. “This shit sucks, and I’m trying to get rid of it, not keep it around!” He throws his hands in the air and strides away, still fuming.
Bloodhound sighs. Elliott was many things, but a patient man he was not.
“Vinur minn. Do you trust me?” they ask, both expecting and dreading his answer.
Elliott stops, and turns around just enough for Bloodhound to see the frustration in his eyes barely give way to something softer. Kinder. “I mean… yeah.”
“Come.”
Bloodhound turns away from the city lights and turbulent distractions, heading for the opposite side of the roof. They pick up a pair of cushions from the chairs there, and place them on the floor. The sun is sinking in the sky, and gives the far off trees a golden aura. Bloodhound wishes they could be running among them, feeling the day’s last rays of warmth drain from the world. But it does not matter. Elliott Witt has lost his light, and Bloodhound is here to help him find it again.
They settle onto one of the cushions, sitting cross-legged. Elliott has followed them, but he stares down at them, confused. “Uh… what are we doing, H- I mean, Bloodhound?”
“Please, take a seat,” Bloodhound says, gesturing to the pillow next to them. They pause, then begin to remove their gloves. The scarring is not as severe there, they think. But why are they rationalizing? Why are they worried? They trust Elliott not to tell anyone, and they trust him to not ask any ill-willed questions.They lay the gloves in their lap and weave their fingers together, bringing their hands to rest as Elliott settles on the pillow, still looking bewildered.
“Please take my hands,” they ask, their voice nigh a whisper. Elliott suddenly flushes, but extends his hands nonetheless. A spark of warmth ignites where the first contact is made- his middle finger graces their palm ever so softly- but it spreads and matures into something much more familiar, much more intimate. His hands are bitterly cold. Bloodhound wants to wrap his hands in theirs and hold them until they’re both warm. Part of them retreats and cringes when his fingers pass over their scars, but they resist the urge to draw back. Elliotts emotions are rattled enough, and he does not need any more rejection.
“Breathe with me.” Bloodhound inhales deeply, and Elliott follows suit, looking more and more at ease as time goes by. Air swirls into their lungs, expanding and filling their chest to a comfortable volume. The spaces between Bloodhound’s ribs stretch and extend as they pull their diaphragm down, drinking in the air like it’s a fine wine. Their gaze locks perfectly to Elliott’s, and even through the goggles, Elliott makes direct eye contact. His deep brown eyes are tired, and the bags under them look purple and dark. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, even though Bloodhound knew that couldn’t be the case. He had very nearly beat them yesterday, after all.
The two of them breathe in tandem for a few moments more, and Elliott’s energy progresses from a writhing roar to a light buzz. “Better?” Bloodhound asks.
“Yeah,” he replies. “How-”
“Trust me,” they implore.
He nods.
“When we focus on the breath of life, we are able to filter out the distractions,” Bloodhound says. Their thumbs tenderly caress Elliott’s fingers in a calming motion, pressing soft arcs into his skin. “Tell me, what do you feel when you think of your mother?”
Elliott’s face falls ever so slightly, but he recovers. “I guess… I guess I’m just really… sad,” he murmurs. “I feel… helpless. Powerless. If it was a person causing all of her problems, I would have taken care of it a long time ago, but… this is different.” He swallows hard. “I can’t fight this. Not with a gun or my fists, anyway.”
Bloodhound nods. “And how do you feel about your father?”
A spark of anger returns to Elliott’s eyes. He grunts in annoyance, deep in thought for a moment. “He pisses me off. I’d punch him right in the face if he were here now. It would serve him right.”
Bloodhound smiles. The thought of Elliott socking his father in the face seemed amusingly petulant, but they hope they are around to see it one day. “And your brothers?” they ask. “How do you feel about them?
A mix of emotions runs through Elliott’s visage- happiness, fear, despair. “I…” he starts. “I really don’t know. I don’t know how I should feel about them. They piss me off, but… they’re my brothers. I don’t even know if they’re still out there.” He releases Bloodhound’s hands and begins to fidget with his fingers in his lap.
“It is all right to have complicated feelings towards those that have hurt us,” Bloodhound remarks as they settle their own hands onto their knees. Their hands are warm and tingly where he had been touching them. “Our emotions come for us at different times. Some are more devastating than others. Some feel as though they will last forever, but some are fleeting. They can make us feel insignificant. Small, compared to their weight and power. But their gravity cannot consume us unless we allow it to.”
“How do I stop it?” Elliott asks, his voice small and uncertain. “How do I keep from getting sucked in?”
“The answer is simple,” they reply, and they almost smile anticipating his response. “You do not.”
Elliott’s brow furrows, and he gapes at them, open mouthed. Bloodhound wants to laugh, but they hold it back, grateful for their mask for the millionth time. They are not too sure about how he would respond to being laughed at a second time. “Uh… what?” he questions. “You’re telling me that in order to stay in control, I have to… let go of it?”
“Yes.”
“How the hell does that work?” Elliott asks, his tone slightly accusatory. He shifts his weight so that he is leaning back on the palms of his hands.
“Imagine you are in a spacecraft orbiting a planet,” Bloodhound instructs. They gesture with their hands as they speak, weaving their story into being. “Think of that planet as an emotion. It has its own pull, its own gravity. If you turn off the engines, you will be stuck in orbit. If you leave, you will never know whether or not that planet had something valuable for you to discover.”
“So, you’re saying…” Elliott pauses, comically confused. Finally, he sighs, and rubs his eyes tiredly. “What are you saying?”
“Our emotions are not inconveniences, Elliott,” Bloodhound says. “They are lessons in disguise, planets waiting to be explored. We do ourselves a disservice by pushing them away and ignoring them. If we are patient with ourselves, there is much to discover.”
Elliott considers this, his hands still fidgeting. “You’re essentially saying that I need to let myself feel,” he says. Then, the realization drops on him like a ton of bricks. “Oh. Ohhh. You- yeah. Of course. Duh.” He blushes red again, and buries his face in his hands.
“Yes,” Bloodhound replies, smiling fully now. “Allow yourself to experience the emotion. Instead of pushing it away, explore it. Travel alongside it, and take note of what you see. The way may be uncomfortable at times, but you are allowed to feel the pain you bear.”
Elliott remains buried in his hands for a long time, clearly deep in thought. When he emerges, Bloodhound notices that he seems calmer and more level-headed. He looks up at them and smiles, and a strange stilted feeling skips through Bloodhound’s chest. It was almost as if their heart had lost its rhythm for a moment.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, his face red. “I can be a stubborn idiot sometimes. Doesn’t do me any good.”
“We all have our moments of difficulty,” Bloodhound soothes. “But they do not make us less worthy of assistance.”
“Caustic would disagree with you,” Elliott scoffs.
“Caustic would be incorrect,” Bloodhound assures, a flash of annoyance flitting through them at the mention of Nox. “That andskoti would benefit from a great deal of assistance.”
Elliott laughs, and his smile alone is enough to break through the gloom that has been surrounding him all evening. “What does that mean, anyway?” he asks, shaking his head in amusement.
“It most closely means ‘devil’ or ‘demon’,” Bloodhound answers. “It is… unkind, but Doctor Nox is-”
“An asshole, yeah.”
“That is not quite the word I would pick, but yes.” Bloodhound chuckles. “He is.”
They fall quiet, content to sit with him in silence. He’s not even looking at them, but for some reason, it doesn’t matter. Just sitting here with him was enough to still Bloodhound’s thoughts and bring a peace to their soul they had long forgotten.
“And one more thing,” they say, remembering. “The outcome of a match does not lay entirely on your shoulders. The team must work together to bring about a victory.”
“Yeah, but my dumbassery certainly doesn’t help anything,” he grumbles, rolling his neck. Several cracks pop through the air, and he sighs. “I’m sure you never have trouble.”
“We all struggle in the Games,” they respond. “Myself included. Your idolization of me does not improve or indicate my skill level. I am mannlegur, just like you. Human.”
Elliott’s cheeks flush, and he shrugs. “I definitely don’t believe that,” he mutters.
Bloodhound rolls their eyes. They want to take him by the shoulders and hold him there until he stops devaluing himself. “Elliott, the Games are not for the faint of heart,” they assert. “If you were incapable, you would not have survived the first season.”
“You can say I’m a dumbass, you know,” Elliott says, running a hand through his hair and stretching.
“I do not wish to insult you.”
Elliott rolls his eyes, but smiles faintly. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
“That is a shame, Elliott,” Bloodhound replies. “I would not consider you to be such.”
He is quiet for a few moments, deep in thought. “Then you’d be a r-rar- you’d be one of the few who didn’t.” He pushes back the sleeves of his sweater, and Bloodhound is momentarily captivated by his well-muscled arms. Something inside them freezes for a half second, then drops into their stomach, and they are very glad he cannot see their face.
“I am sorry you are feeling helpless,” they say, tearing their eyes away from his warm skin to look into his face. “That is a feeling I am familiar with. Please know that you are not alone.”
“I appreciate it.” Elliott smiles at them again, before getting to his feet and returning to the balcony. Bloodhound follows after putting the pillows back where they belong.
Several silent moments stretch out between the two of them. Bloodhound waits patiently, and gazes out over the busy city. The sun is just setting, and it leaks down past their view, painting the higher windows on the buildings around them in fiery orange. They used to wish they could catch the sun and suspend it right there forever, giving them all the time they needed to think and to grieve. But many years have passed since they were a child, and life does not see fit to slow down and allow them anything.
The last vestiges of the sun soon creep beyond the horizon, and a cold chill fills the air. Bloodhound is quite insulated beneath their thick jacket and woolen sweater, but Elliott begins to shiver, presumably because he is only wearing one layer of clothing.
“Yikes. This weather’s kinda crazy, huh?” he remarks, rolling his sleeves back down.
“I had hoped the seasons would delay their changing for a while longer,” they say, “but time waits for no one.” They’re already shrugging off their jacket before they fully register what they’re doing. “Here. Take this for the evening. I will leave you with your thoughts.” They hand their jacket to a bewildered Elliott, who takes it, unsure.
“Um, are you sure? You wear this thing all the time,” he asks, staring at them hard, his cheeks redder than ever.
“Quite. Leave it on my doorstep, and I will retrieve it in the morning.”
“Okay… if you’re sure.” He slides into the jacket with ease, and Bloodhound is pleased to find that it fits him perfectly. It complements his outfit well, and accentuates his features nicely. “What do you think?” he asks, and he does a slow twirl, examining his new look.
A strange leaping sensation in Bloodhound’s abdomen crackles through their body.
“It suits you,” they say, nodding in approval. Their eyes seem to be glued to his form, admiring his strength and the effort he put into his appearance. Finally, they break their gaze away, shake their head, and begin to move towards the door. “One more thing, Elliott.”
“Yeah?” His head pops up,
“Do not forget what I told you. You are-”
“‘Allowed to feel the pain I bear’, yeah, I got it,” he repeats, jokingly rolling his eyes. “Don’t you worry about me, Bloodhound, I’ll be just fine.” He gives them an exaggerated wink and a thumbs up, and they can’t help but smile.
“Have a good evening, Elliott,” they say, pulling the door open, making sure it would remain unlocked after they left.
“Thanks. You, too.”
When Bloodhound lays in bed that night, their fingers fidget with their hair, working it into twists and plaits and many stranded knots. Their thoughts wander, but always seem to arrive back at Elliott- Elliott smiling, Elliott laughing, even Elliott staring out over the balcony, his eyes shining. As they yank a brush through their hair, their chest pulses pleasantly with the memory of Elliott wrapped in their jacket, and they smile freely, openly, unobscured in the darkness of their room. Elliott Witt, they think. What a lovely person he is.
#apex legends#apex#miragehound#mirage apex#bloodhound apex#mirage apex legends#bloodhound apex legends#bloodhound#elliott witt#elliott witt apex legends#my writing#apex fanfiction#apex legends fanfiction
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Just a Taste (Updated)
Dafni x Astarion
Rating: M
Ao3
I’ve been reworking some of the first fics I wrote for these two now that I have a better idea of their relationship. I’ve updated them on Ao3 but there was some interest in me reposting them here as well!
Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series
Astarion passed along the far edge of the camp. A groan escaped his chest as he slumped down against the base of a tree. His whole body ached right to the bone. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the throbbing pain behind his eyes to disappear. He knew he needed to feed as soon as possible. He had waited far too long to make up for his little indiscretion with the boar earlier. The whispers of vampire among his traveling companions had, at last, died down. Unfortunately for him, his caution had left him weak and vulnerable. He clutched his head in his hands and took in a deep breath. His body tensed in an instant. The soft forest breeze carried the irresistible scent of prey. His mouth watered and the familiar, white-hot sting of thirst clawed at his throat.
He could see them all tucked into their bedrolls, spread across the little clearing. Sleeping. Helpless. His gut twisted with guilt at the thought but he was desperate and so very tired. Hunting would require far more energy than he had left and the food that slept peacefully around him was far more likely to quench the caustic burn he felt inside.
He would have to be mindful in the selection of his quarry. Lae’zel was the first to be struck from the list. She had a bitter, bordering on metallic scent that he found less than appetizing. And more importantly, he was certain she would slay him without a second thought should things go awry. Shadowhart was out next. Though her bouquet was much more appealing, she had a suspicious nature and seemed likely to be a light sleeper. Wyll had always seemed an alluring prospect - Strong, fast, and righteous. Despite the appeal, he would also be a dangerous choice, being a monster hunter by trade. Gale would due, he supposed, but as the wizard tossed in his sleep the delicate shimmer of a magical barrier caught his eye. That left him with one, final option.
Dafni slept in a heap of pelts beneath the cover of an old oak tree a few paces away from the others. Wildflowers bloomed in the soil around her as if the earth was reacting to her very presence. His gluttonous gaze lingered on the pretty cleric. He watched her chest rise and fall slow and even. He’d never known her to indulge in sleep, preferring to take her rest by way of trance. She must have been truly exhausted. With a silent step forward, Astarion took in another deep breath. She was floral, like lilac and primrose with just a touch of citrus. His pupils dilated as every fiber of his being shouted at him - Desperate for just a taste. It was a risk to be sure, feeding on a woman of divine persuasion, but of the options available to him she seemed the most delectable and least deadly.
“How cliche,” He thought, “a creature of the night- Driven by sanguine desire to drink from the lovely maiden asleep in her bed of flowers.” He dipped to his knees and with a delicate hand brushed her hair from her neck. He steeled himself, preparing to strike. Leaning in close just as her eyes shot open. “...Shit”
It was the cool tickle of breath on the back of her neck and the feeling of a light hand on her waist that pulled her away from her dreams. When she first saw him standing over her, ruby-red eyes wide, white hair tousled and untamed, she had assumed something must have happened during his watch. However, the guilt and shame that twisted across his handsome face quickly did away with such assumptions.
“What are you doing!” She hissed.
“No, no- It’s not what it looks like I swear!” His words were rushed as if they could not leave his mouth fast enough.
Dafi sat up in her bedroll, her eyes fixed on Astarion’s pleading expression, his hands outstretched in surrender. He reminded her of a wild animal backed into a corner facing down what was to be their demise. His bravado was all but gone and in the place of the cocky rouge she had come to know was a frightened young man. His eyes fixed themselves on the holy symbol that hung from a silver chain around her neck. At that moment the pieces fell together: the boar, his unique appearance, his eagerness to keep watch at night. There, in the dim glow of the fire, she saw him for what he was...
Vampire.
“Were you trying to kill me?”
“No! I wasn’t going to hurt you!” He promised, “I just needed - well…”
“You needed blood.” Dafni tried to keep her tone firm and fearless but her words shook none the less.
“It’s not what you think!” He pleaded, “I’m not some monster. I feed on animals! Boars, deer, kobolds - whatever I can get. I’m just too slow right now. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”
The last word was dripping in melancholy. His head hung low and his shoulders sagged. He had proven himself to be proud, even bordering on snobbish - never asking for help and turning his nose up when it was offered. His suffering must be great if he had been willing to admit his weakness and need.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She whispered. Against her better judgment, she reached out to him, placing a hand on his pale cheek.
“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs. I thought I could keep it to myself but tonight I felt so awful…” Astarion slumped into his hands unable to meet her eyes, “And… I wanted you to trust me. No. I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”
His logic was far more rational than her own. She was a cleric, sworn to the preservation of life. She should have set him alight with divine magic the moment she realized what he was. But, when she looked at Astarion it wasn’t a monster that looked back at her. She saw her friend. The man who called her Daffodil with testing endearment. Who always watched her back in a fight. Who’d come ever so close to kissing her not that long ago. Vampire, he might be but Astarion was no monster. Her heart ached to think of the fate he had been doomed to. He was an elf, never to return to Avandor. Was it not her very reason for existing to care for all of Corellon’s children? Why should Astarion, whom she had come to care for, be any different than the rest of their kin?
“I do.” She smiled, her thumb stroking his cheek, “I Trust you, Astarion. If you say it wasn’t your intention to harm me then that is the truth.”
How long has it been since he had felt a hand so gentle with such kind intention? She held his face so tenderly he thought he might melt. He had spurned her kindness on countless occasions. Thinking it had been a sign of weakness. Now, on the receiving end of her light and he felt a fool for having ever encouraged her to tamp down on her compassion. He leaned into her hand, savoring the warmth of her touch.
“Thank you.” He purred against her ear, “Do you think you could trust me just a little further? I only need a taste. I swear.”
He could hear the steady thump of her heart pick up. The sight of blood pumping through her veins was near irresistible. Her cheeks went flush and the intoxicating smell of her blood threatened to send him into a frenzy. It was no small effort to keep his vampiric instincts in check. He couldn’t remember wanting the blood of any creature half as badly as he found himself wanting her. But, no matter how badly he craved her he refused to betray the trust she’d given him- To prove himself the beast he swore not to be.
“Fine” She spoke in a little voice, “But not a drop more than you need.”
“Of course.” He promised, “Not one drop more.” Delicately, he guided her back so her head came to rest in his lap. He brought one hand to rest on the swell of her full hip and while the other cradled the base of her skull. His fingertips traced the hollow of her neck with almost loving reverence. “I will try to be as gentle as I can manage. It might hurt a bit- a sharp, cold feeling but the pain should fade fairly quickly if memory serves.”
She nodded her understanding, glancing up doe-eyed through her thick lashes. With that, he leaned in pressing a kiss over her pulse before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh. If her scent had been captivating her taste could only be described as transcendent, sweet, and perfect. Yet it was more than the flavor that had him completely delirious. It was the irresistible happiness that began to bloom in his chest as his heart fell in rhythm with her’s. She was a lush and colorful field, the feeling of the sun on his cheeks for the first time in 200 years - Spring incarnate and he was ravenous for more.
First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.
Cazador’s words rang loudly in his ears as the red ambrosian liquid gushed into his mouth. All those years luring food for his old master and he’d been forbidden anything but putrid rats. He’d assumed it was meant to demoralize his spawn. To remind them where they stood in the pecking order. Now he saw the truth of it. With every swallow, he felt better than he could ever recall feeling.
His grasp grew tighter on her hip drawing her into himself no longer satisfied with gentleness and charm. What had happened to the restraint he’d shown just the other day when he’d nearly stopped himself from kissing at the river? Hunger began to blend with desire. He wanted her, in both blood and body. A shaky gasp slipped from her lovely lips. She twisted in his lap, lancing her hand through his hair, tugging him closer. An invitation to drink deeper and indulge the amorous feelings her resplendent curves and needy sounds were insisting.
“Astarion, I’m starting to feel faint.” Her voice was shaky but it was enough.
“Of course.” He gasped. He removed himself with haste, realizing his hold on her body. Relief washed over her and Dafni allowed herself to crumple against him. Above her, Astarion was still struggling to catch his breath. “I was just swept up in the moment. But it worked. I feel good. Strong. Happy!”
He nuzzled at her neck, his nose running along the soft edge of her jaw. A small squeak passed her lips at the feeling of his tongue running over the aching wound. Prompting a satisfied purr from Astarion. He was warmer to the touch now and a faint rosy hue colored his cheeks. His arm once again wrapped across her middle, pulling her into him as if he’d done it hundreds of times before. Astarion was hardly the picture tender regard but his arms were strong and his slow heartbeat thrummed in time with her own.
“I’m glad” She yawned, “You deserve to feel good.”
He stroked absentmindedly through her hair as she began to nod off. Her sweet words overwhelmed him. Gods he wanted to kiss every inch of the strange, wonderful woman curled up in his lap, to taste him in other ways. He hadn’t expected the act of feeding to be so… intimate. He couldn’t be sure if it was always this way or if the elation he felt was a side effect of her being an eladrin. Either way, the temptation to hold her all night was undeniably present. A disheartening pang of thirst still lingered in his throat however and she was far too weak for him to take anymore. His other desires would simply have to wait.
“I hate to disturb you, darling, but you’ll have to excuse me.”
“You are not excused.” Dafni huffed, snuggling closer in protest.
He tried to suppress the laugh but it was no use. She stuck out her lower lip in his favorite pout as he untangled himself from her. She reached up for him, wrapping her hand tightly around his wrist as he turned to leave.
“Come now.” He teased, “You’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” He bent down placing a kiss on her forehead, “This is a gift you know. I won’t forget. Now, sleep, Daffodil. I’ll be back in the morning.”
#bg3 astarion#astarion#elf writes#sunshine & starlight#bg3 oc#dafni of gwynneth#repost#rewrite#eladrin elf#d&d oc
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Crash Course!
@chromium7sky & @deep-in-mind67 a tremendous Thank You for allowing me to borrow Cas ad Malik for some mayhem and destruction! They are terrific and you are both lovely and I hope you enjoy!
~~~*~*~*~~~
Damian al Ghul was a busy man, by nature, he wasn’t one to idly sit about, and he did have operations to run, companies to manage, people to train, a wife to love, and a son to raise. Life was never simple, and lately, Malik had been up to something.
Damian didn’t want to press his son, he did not want to be that parent, he had hopes that Malik would come to him when he was ready, but he was seriously concerned for his son. Malik may be the most mature, levelheaded sixteen year old that Damian had ever encountered. But his son was a perfect resurrection of the Lazarus Pit and a demon and he knew, after watching Todd, his mother, grandfather all struggle with the Pit, that it wouldn’t be this simple, despite Malik being a very good young boy. The sixteen-year-old was a sixteen year old boy in a twenty something year old body, and a demon, and Damian worried. He was a father, he worried.
And lately Malik had gotten very reclusive and very secretive, and he was very worried for his son, but he did not want to be an overbearing parent; he had seen how poorly that turned out. He just hoped that Malik would trust him enough to come to him when things got really bad for him. Damian hoped to any and every deity that Malik knew that Damian was in his corner no matter what.
~~~*~*~*~~~
Malik didn’t think it could be too difficult to do what Casmir was asking, it was not like driving was rocket science, and he had learnt when he was twelve; he was genuinely surprised Cas did not know how to drive. But apparently an incident with Raynor had had their father saying no to any and all teachings for driving until they were legal. Plus, like him, Cas portalled everywhere, but still, Malik could see the practicality in the ability to drive.
And since Casmir’s parents were out on a Justice League mission, all the Batlings were under Nos’ care and Malik didn’t think the feline would care if he taught Cas to drive. Besides, this version of his parents were why more… gentle, he didn’t think they’d get into any serious trouble if they were caught.
“Okay, I’m set,” Cas grinned as they sat in one of the zillions of cars the Waynes always seemed to own. Malik had talked Cas out of the Lamborghini, instead they had opted for the Aston Martin; it was the one that looked like it belonged in those bond films, and he rather liked it.
Malik had walked Cas through the check list for safe driving. They slowly drove to the Batcave where there was a huge track set up for some reason. Malik would admit he was impressed with this version of his father for having adapted a serious training regime here in the Batcave, back home most his training was in Nanda Parbat with his family. Until running into the Batlings he hadn’t really seen much of anything outside the compound, though he did dimension hop from time to time when his mother and father were not around.
“Break, gas, and watch your speed, we shouldn’t go super fast,” he instructed as they got to the track.
“Beak, gas, seatbelt,” Cas muttered as they started going. Suddenly there was a blast of light and it felt like Cas hit the gas too hard as they were both thrown back in their seats.
“CAS!” he shouted and there was a blast of light as a blackhole opened.
“MALIK!” Cas screeched.
They both screamed as they were dimension hopping too quickly to even slow down.
~~~*~*~*~~~
Cas would admit, admittedly, this was not his brightest idea, but Malik hadn’t said no!
For a hot minute Cas was not the oldest and therefore, so not responsible!
Plausible deniability was going to be great. Honestly, Cas had never had this! But he could see from the look of the garage they had crashed into again that they were so dead, so very, very dead. If he and Malik survived this, Lorcan and Griffith were dead when he got home!
It took one look at an unamused Jason Todd for Cas to know exactly which universe they had crashed into, as this was obviously the one with the Jason Todd who had taught Raynor to drive!
“Is that Todd?” Malik asked warily.
“Not either of ours,” Cas grimaced and smiled. Jason stood there staring blandly back with a mug of steaming coffee, the mug was a minion’s mug; and Cas was certain it was the one Ingo had gotten this Jay. This Jason was different from either his or Malik’s, with a J seared into his cheek to highlight the immediate difference.
“Hey Jay,” he called as he rolled down the window.
“Casmir,” Jason remarked. “I don’t know which one is beside you,” he stated.
“This is Malik, he’s from another, another dimension,” Cas explained.
“Mmm,” Jason hummed. “Raven!” he barked.
“What!?” she appeared.
“Control your other dimensional children!” Jason demanded.
“Mom!?” Malik gaped. Cas smiled meekly as she went to stand beside Jason, she was tiny still, her hair was now to her waist, long, thick, inky black, her eyes were now distinctly violet and her sharp features were schooled in indifference as she arched a delicate brow at both of them while sipping her tea.
“Oh, that is not a good look,” Malik muttered while paling.
“We’re so very dead,” Cas whispered as he sunk in his seat.
“You want to tell me what’s happening here Cas?” Raven asked idly as she appeared in their back seat having both the boys jolting as they twisted around.
“M-mom!?” Cas and Malik yelped.
“Not quite,” she chuckled humorlessly. “Now why are you crashing through the garage?”
“Malik agreed to teach me to drive,” Cas informed her.
“Mmm, and I’m guessing you’re Malik?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Nice to meet you, did the Batlings abduct another child I wasn’t aware of?” Rae asked blandly as she examined Malik.
“Um…” Cas looked at Malik and back at Rae who was sipping her tea.
“Not quite,” Malik answered. “I found the Batlings, I’m from another dimension,” he explained.
“Mmm, well, clean up and we’ll get breakfast then send you home. If you think to dimension hop, I’ll remind you I know where you live Cas,” Raven stated as she was enveloped by shadows and reappeared beside Jason.
“You know her?”
“Yeah, Ingo found her when we were babies, she’s family now,” Cas muttered.
“She does know she’s not the boss of us, right?” Malik asked.
“I am so not getting on that version of mom’s bad side!” Cas stated as he got out of the car.
“Why would we get on her bad side!?” Malik asked.
“Trust me, we don’t want to end up there,” Cas stated. “And this Jay can outcook Alfred!”
~~~*~*~*~~~
Raven was barely awake, and Jason wasn’t much better than she was at this point. Though Jay was prepping breakfast. It was a perfectly peaceful morning for her and Jason, none of Jay’s relatives were here for a change which had made life peaceful. Her own family was out of town as well. Rae had been texting Dean, Cas, Sam and Jack in the family group chat, and she had also had a call from Elijah to wish her a happy birthday. Her moms’ had called her from their European tour; which was apparently something Harley had always wanted to do, but they could never leave Gotham long enough to actually do it; but Rae was having breakfast with them tomorrow when she portalled over so she could meet up with Donna and Roy. Donna and Roy had plans for her tomorrow for a late Birthday dinner; it wasn’t easy to get time with the Queen of Themyscira. Vic had called her from deep space even, he was still helping the Lanterns. Kyle, Artemis, and Eddie were going to have lunch with her and Jason. Constantine was having dinner with her, Luci, Alice, Jack, Mary-Beth, Billy, and Jess tonight. But until her lunch, she had all the time in the world with Jason, and only Jason, which was something rare.
At least it was just her and Jason until there was a horrible crash in the garage.
Now though, after having the children clean up the garage, she found herself sitting at the island across from two sheepish looking boys. Cas was tall, gangly, and lean, his black hair was sticking up in odd directions, and his violet eyes were down cast. The other boy, Malik was huge, tall, thick and she sensed the Lazarus Pit in him. His eyes had the tell-tale green ring pulsing in them around the violet irises. He also looked a lot like Damian, high cheek bones, lean face, sharp nose, firmly set lips pulled in a grim line as he assessed her, his black hair was a bit shaggy.
“You want to tell me how you ended up in this dimension, again, Cas?” Raven asked as she set out two teas, she saw the other boy’s surprise as he cautiously came forward with Cas for tea.
“It’s Ingo’s fault.”
“Sure,” Raven waved off as she accepted the waffles from Jason. Jason served up two heaps of waffles for the boys as he pulled a cigarette.
“No smoking,” she said as she plucked the cigarette from his lips.
“Rae!”
“No! No smoking, you promised you were quitting, and I’m ensuring it. You’re Malik?” Raven turned her attention on the other boy who was cautiously cutting into the waffles with pristine manners, he was obviously Damian’s kid she thought.
“Yes,” he answered warily.
“And you’re from a different dimension?” Raven asked as she ate her own waffles, Jason finally sat and stole her syrup. “Hey!”
“You took my smokes!” he retorted.
“They’ll kill you young.”
“Jokes on you, I’m living to a hundred and two and then dying like the city of Detroit!” he sniped as he drowned his waffles in syrup.
“One of these days the Pit’s not going to save you from yourself,” she muttered as she swiped the syrup from him before he could have a sugar high. Jason rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I am from a different dimension,” Malik replied tentatively, clearly still absorbing the situation.
~~~*~*~*~~~
Malik was very confused. He’d been to a lot of different dimensions, which was how he had met the Batlings, and unwittingly befriended them, and been pulled into their antics. When he had agreed to teach Casmir to drive, he had not expected to be hit by a spell from Lorcan and Griffith, and somehow not controlling his own dimension hopping, which had been very unnerving. Then he had crashed into an unknown garage, which had not looked anything like the Batcave where he and Cas had been driving, to see a man who was clearly Todd but not his or the Batlings’ Todd.
This Jason stood there, lifted a scarred brow, his cheek had a J seared into it, and there were green pulses in his eyes, similar to Malik’s own. It was a mark of the Pit, and it was unnerving to see it reflected in his uncle’s eyes.
Then this Raven, his mom, had appeared, she stood beside Todd, and for the first time ever he truly noted how small his mom was. The Batlings’ Raven was lithe, delicate, his own mom had been small but not delicate, this Raven was small, petite, and almost delicate, yet her presence; like the other Raven’s he knew, was commanding. She was unnerving as well with how she had appeared, disappeared, and reappeared, he couldn’t sense her movement which was actually terrifying to him.
Now he was seated, in a warehouse, in a kitchen, before a plate of massive waffles, which were utterly divine in flavor, watching this version of his mother poke and prod this version of Todd and he was confused.
“I see, and in your universe, would your parents permit you to teach driving to a fifteen year old?” Raven asked dryly, turning her attention on him. It was unnerving how she had the mom look mastered and he felt this immense guilt about having agreed to just teaching Cas to drive.
“It’s not our fault we dimension hopped!” Cas protested.
“Sure, it’s not,” Todd muttered which had Malik glaring at this version of his uncle.
“It’s not!”
“Mmm, and how the hell did you get here?” Todd asked dryly.
“We were hit with a spell from Lorcan and Griffith,” Cas stated.
“We had no control of our dimension hopping,” Malik stated firmly. He was a bit annoyed with this version of his uncle; it was a bit annoying to have Todd of all people looking at them like they were reckless idiots. It wasn’t like they had intentionally dimension hopped!
“Mmm, should we be expecting the colony?” Todd asked dryly and Malik glared at his uncle.
“Um… no, I don’t think so,” Cas said.
“Good, little bird,” Todd turned to her. “Think you could get them home?”
“Not until I finish breakfast.”
“Obviously,” Todd snorted.
Malik did agree with Cas about this Todd’s cooking, it was very excellent! “Where’s father?” he asked as he continued cutting the waffles.
“The gremlin is at Berkley with his girlfriend,” Todd answered, and Malik’s head snapped up at that information as he glanced at this version of his mother then to Cas.
“Um… our parents are together in this universe,” Cas said.
“I do not understand,” Malik stated. His parents love transcended all boundaries he had encountered. Almost all the multiverses he had visited he had encountered his parents, together, they belonged together. “If mother is not with father…” he started.
“Your father is dating Irey West, and Jon Kent, depending on the day of the week and time of the month,” Todd chuckled as Raven whacked Todd up the back side of the head.
“In this universe, and in this universe, I do not date jailbait, which is exactly what he would’ve been if we had gotten together and it would have been disturbing, even for a demoness like myself.”
“So…”
“She’s with Todd,” Cass whispered.
“We’re not together!” Todd and Raven shouted as Cas. “Christ it’s like we’re twenty all over again.”
“Speak for yourself, it’s like I talked to Luci and Maze again!” Raven groaned.
“Just get the gremlins’ and other little birds’ spawns’ home and then we’re resume birthday plans,” Todd decided.
Malik blinked in utter confusion. This was a very strange universe. But these waffles were amazing, he wondered for the first time ever, if his uncle was as good of a cook as this version was.
“It’s your birthday?” he blinked at this version of his mother.
“Yes, it is,” she chuckled. “How do you like the waffles?”
“They’re delicious!” Malik admitted and stared longingly at his plate.
“Of course, he likes the fucking waffles, little bird, he’s your kid,” Todd stated as he nudged her side and started making more.
“This is the strangest universe I’ve been in,” he admitted to Cas.
“Yeah, me too, no one tried to stab, shoot or blow me up the first time I landed here!” Cas grinned in delight as Jason started serving them more waffles.
“You crash landed in the bouncy house,” Todd quipped.
“That was fun,” Cas chuckled.
“You dimension hop a lot,” he deduced from his brother.
“You have no idea,” Cas grinned.
“And I’m sure your parents will be lighted to know this in addition to you wrecking my garage,” Raven smiled.
“Do I at least get more waffles before my funeral?” Cas sighed.
#bluboothalassophile#fanfic#Part 1#deep-in-mind67#chromium7sky#casimir wayne#malik al ghul#jason todd#raven#damian wayne#batling#batlings#batlings universe#hopes for a bastard universe
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Crowns
Happy @naraweek my deers! I was going to wait till day 7 to post this but uh it kind of works for today's prompt too! Yay!!! I've never done one of those 5 + 1 things so I hope that you enjoy it!
A Nara's hair was a known and familiar symbol.
Prompt: Timeskip
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Crowns
1- Shikaku/Yoshino
“I got you!” Shikaku announced proudly. He might be considered a genius and excellent strategist but Yoshino managed to always demand the best out of him when they sparred. Ever since they were younger she was always one of the best at evading him and managing to just escape his shadow possession. Whenever he did catch her it was cause for celebration.
Yoshino frowned, annoyed at being caught. She may not have plans to become some great shinobi like him but she always pushed him hard during training. This was to help calm her worries for when he left on missions. Knowing that he was at his absolute best, ready for anything helped quell some of the fear.
Her frown turned into a grin as she looked at him curiously.
“What?” He asked aloud seeing the change in her expression.
Her hand reached up to trail her fingers along his cheek and up to his hairline. Her nails scored across his scalp sending shivers along his spine.
“Your hair.”
“My hair?” He asked curiously, reaching up to touch at his head.
“It must have gotten caught, your ponytail is coming undone.” She explained her hands working gently to remove the tie from his hair. Midnight locks fell through her hands and around his shoulders.
Shikaku just stared as her fingers played through the strands her eyes filled with amusement.
“What’s with the fascination with my hair?”
“Don’t act surprised it's been like this since we were kids.” She’d only seen his hair down a handful of times and just like now she became enchanted by it.
The dark locks gave his sharp features a sort of softness. She knew that a Naras’ hair was a familiar and known symbol of their family. It reminded her of the antlers of the deer that they cared for. His hair was strong and healthy. Very much like its owner. It annoyed her that her own hair wasn’t as well taken care of. Perhaps when she officially became a Nara she’d learn their hair care secrets.
“I’m just not used to seeing it down. You look very handsome like this.” She shrugged but smiled at the blush across his cheeks.
He caught her hand placing kisses on her palm. “Didn't realize how much you like it. Okay, for you I’ll leave it down more often.” She grinned biting her lip wondering if he knew how sweet the gesture was. Not just anyone got to see him like this.
Her hands tangled themselves in his hair to pull him down for a kiss. The strands acting like a curtain around them.
Just another day with her Love.
*
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2- Shikamaru & Temari
The first time Temari saw Shikamaru’s hair down she stomped off in a rush leaving him standing there perplexed. It was early morning and she’d arrived at his home with little warning or notice. He answered the door with sleep still in his eyes and his hair loose around him.
The view rendered her still and speechless causing her to forget just why she’d come by in the first place.
“What’s going on Tem?” Shikamaru asked with a yawn scratching at his scalp.
She felt her face heat up and looked away. “Uh..nothing I’ll see you later!”
He just watched confused as she ran off into the distance. He shrugged hoping that this wasn’t something he’d be punished for in the future.
Temari couldn’t believe her reaction. It was just some hair. Why did it matter that it made the already attractive Nara even more so? Just because she could easily see herself running her fingers through those loose locks wasn’t a reason to react that way.
She groaned shaking away images of sweat matted hair that fell around her as they kissed-
‘Stupid not so pineapple head ninja.’
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3- Shika & Tem
“Damn it! Can’t you tie your hair up?” Temari demanded slamming her hands against the desk.
Shikamaru looked up startled, pushing the long strands back. “What? Why? Does it bother you?”
“Yes, I’m not used to it down! It’s distracting.”
“My hair is distracting?”
Realizing what she admitted she stood up and gathered her things “Ugh, never mind.” She grumbled before she wrenched the ties from her own hair and dropped them in front of him.
“I’m going to work from home today.” Shikamaru stared at her retreating form a soft grin across his lips.
The next day he found a pack of hair ties on his desk.
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4- ShikaTema
Temari smiled to herself, tucking her head into Shikamaru’s neck. Soft strands of hair tickling her cheek.
“Have I ever told you that I love your hair down?” She asked curiously her hands gently brushing stray hairs from his eyes.
“Do you?” He asked with a grin.
“Yes as much as I hate to admit it. You’re annoyingly attractive on most days but when your hair is down you’re pretty irresistible.” He just grinned in response before placing a warm kiss against her forehead.
“I kind of had a feeling.” He admitted drawing her closer. His own face moving into blonde wisps.
“Really?” She asked with an amused expression.
“You could barely look at me if it was down. It was kind of fun seeing you so flustered.”
“What?”
“You didn’t notice that I was wearing it untied more often?” Temari pouted, annoyed and embarrassed that he’d noticed. The soft kiss against her shoulder shifted her thoughts.
Now that their relationship had changed she had unfettered access. She was the only one that would get to play with the strands and know the feeling of them through her fingers.
“Fine, you caught me. No more wearing it down in the village when I’m not here.” She demanded pushing a finger against his chest.
Shikamaru just chuckled, pulling her in closer. “Same for you my love.”
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5- Shikadai
“Ow. Mom it hurts.”
“Well if you could do it yourself correctly then I wouldn’t have to.” Temari explained and despite what Shikadai thought she was running the brush through as gently as possible. Her son's hair was naturally very thick and easily became tangled. She had to get hair care tips from Yoshino when she found out that she was pregnant. Knowing she would have to help her son with keeping up the tradition.
Shikadai would prefer to keep it loose rather than tied up so tightly. It was boring and troublesome but he was sure that one day he’d miss having his mom brush his hair.
“You have to keep your hair neat. A Nara’s hair-“
“Is a symbol of our clan and family.” He finished with a bored expression.
“Yes but you, my little fawn, have the added title of being our prince. So your hair is like wearing a crown on your head. It represents the role you’ll one day step into as the Nara heir as well as the role you'll play in Suna. Wear it proudly son.”
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5+ 1- Naras
Temari leaned her head back enjoying the warm water that cascaded through her blonde locks. Shikamaru was sitting behind her and worked the shampoo into her hair massaging her scalp as he moved. The action caused her toes to curl beneath the water.
“Mm… this feels amazing.” She sighed, sinking further into the water. Once her hair was thoroughly shampooed he began pouring the water back over. He watched as the rivulets trailed down along her neck, shoulders then down her spine. It created a golden waterfall along her back.
Like him, she rarely wore her hair down in public. Even at home it would often be tied up or pulled away from her face. When it flowed down her shoulders so gently it always did something to him.
He settled next to her in the bath before pulling her into his arms. Both of them with their hair wet and loose around them.
She’d found a silver strand amongst raven tresses the other day. It was a stark reminder that they were older now. Neither of them lamented that fact. Rather they were thankful that they were able to grow old together.
Temari’s fingers curled around a dark lock. Just as fascinated as she had been the first time she’d run her fingers through those strands.
Shikamaru gazed at her affectionately layering kisses along the crown of her head. Those precious locks tangled in his fingers.
“I love you Tem.” Her heart fluttered in a familiar beat. Through the trials and miracles of life their love endured. It would continue to do so even when all those threads turned silver.
“I love you too Shikamaru.”
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Hope that you liked it! I've been obsessed with the idea of hair down Shikaku ...ugh....and also Shikamaru one day being a silver fox! :D I have one more ficlet I could use for tomorrow and I don't know I have an idea for Shikamaru's bday but I don't know that I will be able to get it out in time. Either way, thank you all for reading my sweet fawns! Love you babeys!
#naraweek#naraweek2020#shikamaru x temari#shikatema#shikatem#shikaku/yoshino#nara clan#nara family#shikadai nara#fanfic#fluff#day 3#timeskip#the naras have the best hair in the village#although kakshis is pretty incredible too#naruto#boruto next generation
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A Day at the Academy
Backstory scene for Vasco (and Estella) at the Academy for Hidden Earth. I’m uncertain if I’ll ever actually use this but it does tell more about Vendiae species.
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"Tris, I just don't understand!" Pulsatilla groans, resting her head on the table. "He's doing fantastic in training! Top of the charts! But at any given time, he's somewhere by himself. I can't even tell he's trying to make connections and associations!"
"Have you considered maybe he just doesn't belong? He was a lower bred Vendia after all." Her red haired sister sips her tea with an amused glance.
"No, that's not it. He belongs. He's stronger than his peers on the spells despite looking like it just exhausts him. It's just..." She looks up. "Have you even seen him talk to anyone that didn't talk to him first?"
"Well, consider his background. Frigus is an arse to the bone. Probably drilled it into his head with a mallet."
Pulsatilla sighs and leans her head on her hand. "But how do you think we can fix that?"
"Put him on an assignment with Calandra." Trisopia then grins.
"Calandra? Why Calandra?" She looks at her. "What do you know that I don't?"
Trisopia takes a mirror from her pocket and waves her hand over it. The glass vaguely glimmers green before she hands it over. "Take a look at that. Tell me if you notice anything interesting."
Pulsatilla watches the mirror and sees Vasco sitting alone in a corner of the dining area with a small bowl of soup. There is a group of girls off to the side making their plates, Calandra is in the middle of the line. Suddenly, one of the girls in front of her slips and her bowl of soup is airborne above Calandra's head. Vasco stops mid bite. There is a quick glimmer of scarlet around Calandra. The bowl and the soup land around her and not a drop touches her. Vasco finishes his bite without another glance. Calandra and her friends laugh about how lucky she must be for the soup to have missed like that as they go to another table. Vasco smiles a little, his eyes briefly glimmer scarlet. A cookie floats from a platter some steps away and silently sits itself on Calandra's plate.
Pulsatilla blinks and hands the mirror back. "That happened last night?"
"Lunch today." Trisopia grins. "Bertramus apparently is just shy. His low confidence levels make him scared to approach her so he silently makes her life a little easier."
"And that must be why he's always so tired during his trainings." She sighs. "I'm so oblivious."
"You just didn't know what to look for. You're still pretty new at this yourself, Lia. A couple hundred years doesn't make you an expert."
"But what do you suggest I do about him?"
"Take him to the side, tell him women like confidence, and send him on his merry way. Then we sit back and watch if it makes any changes. If all else fails, you should pair them and send them on a research excursion."
Pulsatilla sighs and picks up her tea cup. "But maybe just telling him about the confidence will promote him to try talking to her at least. I doubt she even realizes he exists."
"Today is the big shift, right?"
"You mean the night they see what other form they naturally shift to? I had thought about it. Do you think they're ready?"
"I think in the case you need to send shy-boy and miss priss on an excursion they need to know their main shift to conserve energy." She quickly sips down the rest of her tea and gets up. "You want to ring the bell for training?"
"Of course I want to ring the bell, why would you even ask?"
Trisopia smiles to herself. "Because watching your excitement over something so simple never gets old."
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"Today we will discuss form shifting. Can anyone tell me the three types of shifting?" Trisopia looks at the younger wizards. "Calandra, if you please."
Calandra thinks for a moment. "Main, auxiliary, and emergency?"
"Well, close. The last is called mortem, but generally if you must perform a mortem shift you are probably in an emergency situation." She chuckles. "I know each of you has been trained on typical auxiliary shifting. It's time to discover what your main shift is. Can anyone remind the class what a main shift is? Bertramus?"
Bertramus looks over from where he had been watching Calandra. "Main shift is the least taxing form shift, usually as a means for faster transportation than just regularly walking. Usually this form is a sort of bird."
"Exactly." Trisopia sits down on a mat and motions for the students to do the same. "Now I want you to close your eyes and relax. Think of what qualities make you you. When you feel at peace I want you to start shifting, but keep your mind empty. Let your instincts take over the shift." She says before shifting herself into a quetzal bird and watches her students. "When you feel brave enough, open your eyes and look at the mirror Pulsatilla has set before you."
Bertramus opens his eyes and looks into the mirror and feels his heart fall into his stomach. The black feathers, sharp silver beak...a crow. An evil little crow. He wonders if a crow can cry as he feels the head rise in his face. He hears the murmurs of the other Vendiae around him.
"See! I told you! He's evil!"
He shuts his eyes and flies out of the room. The door shuts behind himself.
Pulsatilla gasps, but Trisopia only tilts her head. "I don't understand? What is so bad about ravens? It fits him." She murmurs and looks at her sister. "You handle them, I'll go talk with him." She then gently flaps from the room after him.
She finally finds him in his quarters, packing a bag. "Bertramus?"
Bertramus looks over at her. His eyes are red and watery. "I...I can't stay here, madam." He croaks. "It seems fate has its own plan for me...And if I'm going to turn out evil, I shouldn't learn how to control my magic so I'm not as dangerous."
"Bertramus, is this about your shift? Ravens are not evil creatures." She sits on the edge of his bed, watching him. "They're symbols of wisdom, and good luck in many cultures. Have you ever seen how masterful a raven can be if it has a goal in mind? Very resilient creatures."
"It's...It's not just that. Everyone knows."
"Everyone knows what?" She tilts her head.
"That I like Calandra. She doesn't know, but they're making her life harder because they know I'll go out of my way to intervene." His shoulders sag and he hangs his head. "I'm such an idiot."
"Bertramus..." She then sighs. "If you've made up your mind, I will not force you to stay here. But in the very least, you should tell her goodbye before you go. Better to have confronted one fear and flee the rest than to flee them all."
"I....I guess I can do that." He grimaces.
"Good." She pats his shoulder and gets up. "I'll go tell Pulsatilla. However, I'll give you twenty-four hours to fully decide, okay?"
Bertramus nods. "Thank you."
Trisopia nods and walks out, hiding a small smirk. "That boy isn't going anywhere." She mutters.
———————
Bertramus stops outside a corner room's door. He raises his fist to knock, but can't seem to force himself to follow through with the motion. He bites his bottom lip and instead drops his hand by his side and stoops down, sliding a note silently under her door. His eyes widen and he pales as the door opens and he finds himself staring at a pair of short black boots.
"Uh...hi?"
He slowly looks up and makes eye contact with the brow-raised boot owner. His cheeks start burning viciously. He opens his mouth to say something, but his tongue won't work, so he closes it again.
She reaches down and gets the note from his fingertips. "Were you sliding this to me?"
He nods, or he would nod if his head would cooperate. He can't stop staring at her which fuels his blush onward down his neck.
She then giggles, leaning against the door frame. "You can talk, right? You're in my classes...uhm...Berty? Bertramen?"
"B-Bertram-mus..." He finally stutters out.
"Oh right!" She nods and watches him. "So what's in the note?"
"Stuff..."
She raises a brow again. "Stuff, eh? My my my, how descriptive are we. Should I read it now?"
Bertramus manages to shake his head and looks away. "No...Not that it matters." He smiles a tiny bit and looks like he's preparing to flee. "Really, y-you can just throw it out."
"If it's trash, why don't you tell me the basics, then I'll decide if I think it's worth opening or not."
"It's stupid, spur of the moment, nonsense..." He slowly stands up.
"Is that so? Why would you be sending me nonsense?"
Bertramus starts taking a couple steps back. "Bye, Calandra..."
Calandra takes a step forward. "No, no, don't leave yet!" She grabs his arm and watches him turn from pink to red in the face. "Bertramus, what is it?"
"It's a goodbye." He then sighs. "I'm leaving tonight."
"Leaving? Where are you going?"
Bertramus shrugs and looks away. "I don't know...maybe if I plead enough my old boss will take me back...Or, or...maybe I can find some other out of the way jobs."
"But why?"
"Because apparently I'm just evil." He then spits out bitterly. "So why should a future villain stay here learning things he may use to hurt those he loves? No, it's better for everyone if I go."
"Do you really think you're evil?" She takes another step closer to him, but he avoids her eyes. "Because you don't look evil to me...I see a cute and caring misunderstood wizard."
Bertramus looks at her with widened eyes. "Huh?"
Calandra grins a little. "You seriously think I haven't noticed the little scarlet mist surrounding me all the time?" He starts to pull away as though ready to flee again, but she keeps a steady grip on his arm. "I don't want you to go."
"I don't want to hurt you..." The words slip out before he recognizes he's said them aloud and he presses his lips tightly together.
Calandra looks at him and manages to make eye contact. "Then don't go. That'd hurt me more than any prank the imbeciles pull." Her eyes shortly glimmer a rich indigo.
Bertramus finds himself unable to look away from her eyes. He slowly feels less tense though a strange feeling flutters in his chest. He then blinks as Calandra kisses his cheek.
"Let's have breakfast together tomorrow." She then smiles at him. "Promise me you'll stay?"
He looks at her, flabbergasted, but manages a small nod.
Calandra releases his arm. "Oh, one last thing. What's your common name? Mine's Estella."
"Vasco." He smiles slowly.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow, Vasco, and I'll read this little treat tonight." She winks at him and shakes the letter before going back in her room.
Bertramus stands there for a moment before walking down the hall back to his own room. He furrows his brow as he tries to make sense of what just happened. He opens his door, shuts it, and slides down it to the floor.
"Holy feathers!"
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The Way to a Man’s Heart Goes Through His... Cat? Ch3
AO3
As much as Jaskier adores the fact Roach seems to warm up to him, there's one thing he can't stand.
<I think the cat is planning to kill me>
<why>
Jaskier snaps a picture where all that's visible are glowing eyes in the dark, staring down at him and sends it.
<She keeps staring at me>
<And tries to sleep on my face>
<And licks my hair!>
<She won't let me drive her away>
<help>
<Maybe she secretly likes you>
<Then why won't she let me touch her?>
<I have to hide under my blanket so she won't eat my hair>
<yeah, i'm with Essi, you're on your own>
<think of it as a free haircut>
<Firstly eww>
<Secondly how can you be so cruel>
<Have you no mercy for my luscious locks???>
<absolutely none>
<screaming emoji>
<you are horrible friends>
<good night Jaskier try not to die>
<good dying>
<when you don't hear about me in the morning you will regret those were your last words to me>
<your thesis supervisor will drag you back from the grave to finish your thesis>
<don't remind me I'm trying to sleep!!!>
<sleep tight don't let the type errors bite>
<I hate both of you>
<kissy face emojis>
<zzz>
The morning routine is something Jaskier has learned to both love and hate. His alarm rings at 8 like every morning and like possessed Roach jumps on top of him and screams.
"Mmmm yeah, I'm awake, Roach..." Jaskier mumbles and tries to sleep just one more minute. Roach is having none of it. She runs over him, to the door and screams bloody murder and jumps on top of him again.
"Please... Roach... just two... minutes..." Jaskier tries to bury his head under the blankets but Roach walks on top of him and screams again.
"Ugh... you're heavy... Okay, okay, I'm getting up. See Roach, I'm getting up..."
He walks downstairs to feed Roach who keeps screaming and thrilling until her bowl is full and walks back up to brush his teeth.
Roach doesn't take long until she demands to be let in the bathroom, scratching and meowing making her demands known.
"One of these mornings I will get to brush my teeth in peace," Jaskier sighs as Roach curls herself into the sink. This is not one of those mornings.
He checks his phone over morning coffee and is surprised to find a message from Fiona so early.
<Help me out>
<Sure, swallow. What do you need?>
Fiona sends him a picture of her math assignment.
<What is it you're having trouble with?>
<I don't understand anything.>
<I asked uncle L but he was no help.>
<I usually ask uncle E but he's not here>
<What do i do?>
Jaskier looks at the math over and starts to explain it in detail. It's somehow endearing how much trust Fiona puts in him and he does not want to ruin it for her. Not that third-grade mathematics is hard, he suspects 'uncle L' just isn't that good at explaining things.
He can't help but venture to reread a different conversation entirely while he waits for Fiona to finish.
A picture of Cat Dad and Fiona. And actual texts after it.
<how is roach>
<She's very fine! Quite vocal about what she wants but still lovely!>
<good>
<let her outside>
<she enjoys it>
And on another day:
<thank you for the pictures>
Then another selfie with Cat Dad and Fiona, this time taken by Cat Dad. He is very bad at taking selfies, but somehow even that is endearing, despite the man looking like he's a member of a biker gang with the beard and all of the black leather. When he got the first picture, he hadn't even noticed. He had been too distracted by... other things. Jaskier really shouldn't feel this giddy just looking at a picture. Just rereading the texts. But he can't help himself.
<i like seeing roach happy>
The man is clearly crazy about his cat. And what's hotter than a person who loves their pets to the moon and back. Nothing, if you ask Jaskier.
<I'm glad you like the pictures! Like I told you, I'll send one or two every day!>
<tell me before you run out of cat food>
<i know a person at a pet store>
<dont feed her too many treats>
<I won't, I promise>
What Jaskier doesn't tell is feeding the cat cheese every single day to get her brushed. Little treats never hurt anyone.
Fiona sends him a picture of finished assignments.
<Very good! You did it on your own, I'm very proud of you!>
<Thank you, MrJ!!>
Jaskier thinks he will melt. While being a tutor wasn't in his job description he doesn't really mind. To him, it's evident what Fiona wants most of all is company and support and he's happy to provide. The family she's staying with is trying their best, Jaskier is sure of it. But from what Jaskier gathers through Fiona's texts, they don't seem to have enough time to look through her school work as much as she wishes they would.
How can two people he's never even met manage to occupy most of he's thoughts?
***
Jaskier has barely put the first forkful of instant ramen in his mouth when he hears the door open.
"Geralt, it's me!"
Jaskier scrambles to meet whoever just walked through the locked door using their own key, what the fuck.
"H-hello...?" he manages to greet through a mouth full of food before he even sees who it is.
Jaskier is not one to be intimidated nor is he one to be at loss for words.
Somehow, the woman in front of him manages to do both. She's gorgeous, her raven hair falling in curls over her shoulders, violet eyes staring straight at him like he's a piece of cheap meat and suddenly Jaskier is keenly aware of wearing nothing but pants and an undershirt, his hair a ruffled mess, hands covered in ink, pencil and pen marks.
"You're one of those... trainees. Melitele forbid, what sort of trash does Geralt drag in here, why aren't you with the old wolf?"
Jaskier opens his mouth to answer but is immediately interrupted.
"No, don't answer that. Where is Geralt, I need to talk to him."
"I... um..." Jaskier gets the feeling this is a person who gets what she wants. She quirks an eyebrow at him expecting an answer and when none come she sighs, a dramatic gesture Jaskier is not sure he could perform better even if he tried.
"Where. Is. Geralt?" she asks like he's an idiot and Jaskier things at this moment he really is.
"He, um... is not here?" Jaskier tries his best. He does. But something about the woman, no matter how beautiful she is, radiates power, like she could crush him without even blinking an eye.
The woman eyes him, up and down and glances behind him to the kitchen. And smiles. It's a small amused quirk of her lips, one that makes Jaskier spin around immediately only to spot Roach sitting on top of his papers, meticulously dropping every single pen to the floor.
"Roach, no!"
Roach meows and jumps down from the table with a mrrrp. She trots to the woman and rubs herself against her legs before she jumps up to her scratching post to stare at them.
Jaskier kneels to collect his pens, muttering curses under his breath.
"You know Roach."
"Um, yeah?" Jaskier mutters as he crawls deeper under the table to reach the pens.
"Soooo, witchers, huh? Interesting topic of research."
Jaskier hits his head on the table.
"Yeah... yeah I. I know it's not the most conventional one but I do find it quite fascinating especially when you look at all of the historical songs..." Jaskier crawls from underneath the table and is met with the woman standing next to him and suddenly he's keenly aware of being in his underwear on his knees on the floor in front of one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen.
He blushes.
He's sure he's never blushed as much as he is right at this moment and he honestly wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
"You're not one of the trainees," the woman says eyeing him, amusement still lingering on her lips.
"No, I'm not," Jaskier admits and tries to get to his feet in a somewhat dignified way. He fails and all of his pens scatter to the floor again. "Fuck..."
"And who are you then?"
"I'm the cat-sitter. Julian." Jaskier gives himself a mental slap. He is an adult person why does he introduce himself like a toddler? "Can I please go put my trousers on?" he pleads. Maybe clothed he'll have a chance to be on equal grounds with the woman.
"Sure."
A few minutes later he comes back down, fully clothed this time, to find the woman sitting by the table and reading his scribbles.
"Um, hello?" Jaskier greets the woman again. She looks up but does nothing to stand up to greet him in return. "Julian Pancratz, the cat-sitter." Jaskier extends his hand to her and she takes it.
"I'm Yen. Geralt is my-... we're... friends. Now, where has that grumpy bastard gone?" The woman - Yen answers and looks at him expecting an answer immediately.
"I honestly don't know, he only told me it's work-related. I've never even met him. I was recommended by a friend of his who is also a client of mine. He occasionally answers the texts I send him, maybe you could try to reach him by phone?"
"He answers your texts? What did you do, enchant him?" Yen sounds honestly baffled and it makes Jaskier feel bad. She obviously has some sort of history with the Cat Dad so the least he could do is answer her.
"He only answers every now and then. I don't think it was even his idea to reply."
Yen smiles, a true smile this time, not just an amused quirk of lips, "You're probably right." She picks up one of the papers again and taps it, "Ever met a real witcher?"
"No, I haven't. I've just always found the stories interesting... I have plans for real research for my doctoral thesis as soon as I manage to finish my master's degree, I just need to get around to figuring out... well pretty much everything outside of the basic structure. I already know all of the material by heart, it's just... just look at this, how can someone write something so vile about people who work to keep us safe from monsters? And this here..." Jaskier rummages through the piles of papers and pushes the ones he meant on Yen's hands, not waiting for her to answer. "And look, I even came up with this account of someone killing a witcher after he had finished a job for them, just the audacity of it all!" He glances up at Yen, suddenly keenly aware he is probably either boring her or making her uncomfortable with all of this talk about monsters and monster hunters. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't bore you with this..." He reaches to take the papers from Yen's hands but she holds them out of his reach.
"No, you're not boring me at all. Please, tell me more about your current paper?"
Yen proves to be a far better company than Jaskier first thought. At the end of their discussion and a few cups of tea later, Yen turns the conversation back to him.
"Why do you live here? Wouldn't it be easier to write in your own place?"
"Oh, you know, roommates..." Jaskier mumbles, avoiding Yen's eyes. No way in hell is he going to tell a complete stranger he sleeps in his friends' sofas and in the musicology society's guild room at the uni when he can't find anyone to room him between jobs. His parents already think him a failure, no need to add a complete stranger to the mix.
"Hmm," Yen agrees and stands up. "I feel I have held you long enough. Good luck with your thesis. Here is my number, call me if you get into any trouble while you're staying here." Yen scribbles a phone number on the edge of one paper with a bright red pen she picks up from the floor.
"Um... what trouble?" Jaskier asks, suddenly wary. "I have only told one person the address like was the deal? I haven't told them anything else, I'm not in danger, right? This isn't some mob bosses hideout or something? I'm in trouble, aren't I? Melitele's tits, Essi will kill me..."
"Calm down, no trouble. Just... if anything comes up, like bills or something and you can't reach Geralt. He can be unreachable for days." Yen smiles at him, an uneasy smile, not quite reaching her eyes.
"Oh, okay, yeah, that's. That's good..." Jaskier feels so stupid. Not only has he managed to be half-naked while Yen walked in, but now he has also made a complete ass out of himself.
"Take care of Roach," Yen says as a goodbye and walks out of the door. Jaskier rushes to say goodbye but when he reaches the door, she's already gone.
Come night Jaskier is surprised how much he has managed to work on his thesis. Talking about it with someone made writing so much easier, even when most of the talk was him ranting about the unfair treatment of witchers which will never end up in the final paper.
He grabs something to eat before bed and spots Roach. She sits facing the front door, waiting for someone to walk through it.
It breaks Jaskier's heart.
Roach has done it every night, giving up only after Jaskier has gone to bed to crawl on the other side of the bed to stare at him.
Jaskier snaps a picture of Roach and sends it despite the late hour.
<Roach misses you>
Jaskier doesn't expect an answer.
<tell her im sorry and i love her>
That. That is too cute. Jaskier can't handle it, he just can't.
"Roach, your owner is a big old sap and he wanted me to tell you he's sorry and he loves you, okay?" Jaskier tells her from a respectable distance away. Roach looks at him and meows pitifully.
"I know, girl. I'm sure he misses you as much as you miss him. Come on now, I'm going to bed, you can come and stare at me until I fall asleep."
#the witcher#the witcher fanfic#geralt of rivia#Jaskier#geraskier#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#cirilla fiona elen riannon#Yennefer of Vengerberg#frywen writes
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Think of this as kind of a bonus apology for taking a couple weeks off; I thought I could post two updates right in a row (even if for two different fics). Sorry this chapter was so plot-heavy but I hope ya like it!
=Chapter 30
When Kali returned with Mrs. Schnee, Blake still wasn't back yet, but they had barely started to ladle out the stew when she breezed in the door. At least she hadn't lost so much sense of decency that she would make both their mothers feel out of sorts by refusing to show up in time for dinner.
After they ate, Blake caught Weiss alone and apologised for losing her temper. She forgave her and they went their separate ways for the night… though she couldn’t help feeling the matter wasn’t entirely settled. Blake would have to work through her feelings more completely or it would just happen again, which neither of them seemed to want.
“She’ll get over it,” Yang said in a calm tone as she held her hand in the backseat. “But yeah, that was pretty scary. She really thinks you’re… doing that?”
Weiss knew Yang was being careful not to drag Kali into the conversation, since she was the one driving them. They had already dropped Willow off, but Weiss decided to remain behind a little longer to spend more time with her girlfriend; her mother had looked unenthusiastic, but tried her best to hide it behind a diplomatic smile. Scooting a little closer, she laid her head on Yang’s shoulder, both for the creature comfort and to enable them to keep their voices down.
“She does. But I’m not! I mean… I did ask about it once, but I asked. That’s it, I swear!”
“I believe you, Schnee. But why does she act like it’s a fate worse than death?”
“Are we going to openly acknowledge that you’re talking about myself and your mother, Weiss? Or not?”
Cringing, Weiss sat up straighter and looked into the front seat at their chauffeur. “Sorry! But I didn’t want to betray Blake’s trust!”
“It’s alright,” Kali chuckled as she turned the wheel, bringing them past the diner. “She’s been making a few snide comments about how much time I’m spending with Willow. Even though I assure her that it’s strictly platonic, Dragons business… well, I’ve had a few relationships go awry in the past. She’s more protective than she ought to have to be.”
Weiss frowned, staring down at her knees. “It would be nice if she didn't behave as if my mother is some kind of, of… leper! Why shouldn't she be good enough for you?”
“Sweetheart, it isn't about tha-”
“You know, it really starts to wear on a girl's confidence when nobody seems to want her or her family around. I'm a good person! I try my best to treat my friends fairly, to look out for my mother and my girlfriend, and everybody seems to hate me for it! What more do I have to do?”
When Kali had no immediate reply, Yang sighed. “Aaaaaaand now we're talking about my mom. Great.”
“I never said that,” she hedged.
“Didn't have to. But I want you around, okay?” She leaned over to press her lips into Weiss's cheek. “And I'm planning on it for a long time.”
That went a long way toward soothing her nerves. A lilting “awwwwww” came from the driver's seat, but both girls ignored it completely. They were too busy snuggling and comforting each other.
It was highly tempting for Weiss to simply drop Yang off at her home and leave it at that; they had a fairly good evening together, all things considered, surprising as it was given that they had just watched one of their own be brutally whipped. But it was that last reason that impelled her to stay. Even though Yang had never explicitly stated it, she had a gut feeling that having to watch that affected her girlfriend more than she was letting on.
This time, Raven made no comment whatsoever when she saw the other two women entering her home. She and Kali shared a brief nod before they passed by the living room and into Yang's bedroom.
“Do you think we'll always have to sit around in here instead of being able to use the actual living room?” Weiss asked as they settled on the bed.
“Who knows?” the blonde answered gruffly. “You ask that like I really understand how my mom thinks anymore.”
Kali sighed from her spot on the corner. Privately, Weiss thought it might be worth investing in one of those church folding chairs Kali kept in her house for future visits. “I do. Trust me, understanding her won't make dealing with her any easier. More importantly, are you okay?”
“What?”
“You had to bear witness when Neo got flogged today. That takes a toll on a person even if they don't want to admit it.”
The light in Yang's eyes seemed to go out at being reminded of the ordeal. “I'm fine.”
“Are you?”
“There's not really any point in being anything other than fine. Right? What's it going to change if I'm not?” Neither of them responded right away. Frustrated, the brute moved forward out of Weiss's arms and began to pace. “I know you guys are just checking up on me, and I appreciate it, but buzz off, okay? I'm gonna be fine.”
“Yang-”
“No, Weiss! I'm…” Clenching her teeth, she turned and folded her arms over her chest while staring at the curtain over her window. “It had to happen. She hurt you. Even if she didn't do it herself, she helped make the woman I love come closer to death than she ever has in her whole life, and I can't… I won't ever forgive her for that. Even if Salem will, I can't do it!”
“You forgave me.”
All eyes went to the doorway where Raven was standing, leaning against the jamb with her arms folded as tightly over her own chest as her daughter's were. Her gaze was as empty and dead as it had ever been, but at least her entire focus was upon Yang.
“Mom… that's different. We both know you were never going to hurt Weiss unless she gave you a real reason to - and a cream puff like her couldn't do that.”
“Hey!” Weiss protested - but Raven was already chuckling harshly under her breath.
“All right, all right, so you've got me pegged. Maybe you ought to fill me in on what happened to you today.”
The three current Dragons spent the next few minutes filling Yang's mother in on the events of the day and what had led up to them. She listened impassively, neither expressing outrage nor disdain for either side. Once she had the full scope of the situation, Raven spent another minute mulling it over.
“And none of you know the name this mute girl wrote down?” When Kali shook her head, her old friend sighed. “Figures. Salem always plays things close to the chest. Always found that irritating.”
“You won't hear me disagreeing," Kali said. "But I also understand her position; we already had one traitor, and she doesn't want to hand off information so easily to any other potential turncoats.”
Shaking her head, Raven stared down toward her work boots. “She's really giving the girl a second chance? I wouldn't.”
“I know you wouldn't,” Kali whispered. There was a flicker of recognition in Raven's eyes, but she didn't comment aloud. Then she raised her voice to continue, “Yang had to watch Neo be chastised. She's had to help Weiss heal from her branding, her arm got wrenched out of its socket… and got an eyeful of what happened to Cinder, which I promise is not for the faint of heart. Don't you have anything to say to your daughter?”
“Like what? That she's tough? I knew that already. Glad she's proving me right.”
Even while a small, fierce smile was coming to Yang's lips, Kali sighed in irritation. “That's all?”
“Great,” she chuckled harshly, shaking her head again. “Here it comes - a lesson from the moral high ground, delivered by Reverend Belladonna. All right, let me have it; I'd like to get this over with so I can get back to watching TV.”
Kali didn't respond. She merely stared at her former friend for a long moment, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Weiss had rarely seen her looking so out of sorts, even if she had definitely seen her that angry before.
“What?” Raven prompted.
“Doesn't matter.” Much to their surprise, Kali stood and walked to the door, waiting for Raven to move out of her way. “Weiss, I'll be in the car. I have a crossword puzzle to do.” Raven certainly didn't stop her, and the woman stormed out of her house.
“Mom…”
“Don't you start, Yang.” When neither of the girls spoke up again, she threw up both hands and snapped, “I don't like being told how to live my life, all right? Kali was always good at that. Just not something I care to listen to anymore.”
“Maybe she's wrong about… whatever point she was trying to make,” Yang told her earnestly, though her voice was trembling with mild anxiety. “But you probably oughtta stop acting like she's only saying this stuff to make you mad.”
Scoffing, her mother finally dropped her hands to rest on her hips. “What other reason is there? She made all the right choices, I made all the wrong ones. All that's left is for her to rub it in my face.”
“You really don't know her at all,” Weiss mumbled.
“No, I don't know you at all. Kali is someone I know extremely well - she hasn't changed much in the past twenty years.”
“That woman has been more of a mother to me than my own mother has these past years - and I'm nobody to her! Even if you two have some kind of past… that doesn't represent everything she's ever been or ever will be! Can't you try to get to know the woman she is now before you dismiss her completely?”
Finally, Raven strode into the room, hands flexing as if she were going to launch herself at her daughter’s girlfriend. A glance at said daughter seemed to change her mind, and she stopped a foot away. “You have no idea,” she snapped down at her, those hypnotic eyes sending doom and gloom at the young cheerleader. “I would have given her everything - and that big lummox, Ghira? He may not have been as flighty as my Taiyang, but he's still gone, isn't he? So where are we both now? Alone. Alone, thanks to her being too chicken to- forget it. Not that there's any reason for me to tell you any of this, you, you… rich little cockroach!”
Yang rose from the bed, a hand reaching out for Raven’s shoulder. “Mom-”
“Save your breath. Neither of you understand anything. Kali didn't, Tai didn't… and this little arm candy of yours understands even less. In a week, she'll let you down, too - and then you'll see. Can't trust anybody but yourself. That's all I've ever tried to teach you to get you through this miserable life.”
Though Yang looked stricken as her mother turned on her heel and stomped off toward her bedroom, slamming the door like a child throwing a tantrum, Weiss was smiling. It took Yang a few seconds to notice, and a few more to formulate a response.
“What? What's so funny?”
“Nothing's funny. Don't you see?” When Yang only looked at her dumbly, she paced over and grabbed her hand, whispering, “She's opening up! Sure, she still doesn't trust me and hates my guts, and that's irritating, but she's starting to reveal why! This is a positive thing!”
Shaking her head with a weak little chuckle, Yang glanced at her door. “You are really a 'glass half full’ kind of chickadee, ain’t you?”
“Not particularly. But in this case, I'll take what I can get; she's your mother. Whether or not either of us wants to admit it, her opinion is really important. If there's any sliver of a chance I can maybe show her I'm not so bad, or that Kali's not so bad… isn't it worth it to try?”
Instead of answering with words, she wrapped her hands around Weiss's waist and pulled her in for a deep kiss. The two of them let it go on for longer than they probably should have, given that her mother was in the next room, but they couldn't be bothered to care at that instant; they just needed the intimacy, the closeness. Physical reassurance that their love was worth fighting for.
Some five minutes later, they broke apart when they heard the bedroom door bursting open. Though she didn't look at them directly, Raven grumbled, “Shouldn't keep Kali waiting like that. Go home, little Schnee. Yang will still be here to neck with tomorrow.”
And then she left again. As Weiss got up from the bed and brushed down the front of her dress, Weiss favored Yang with a sweet little smile. “See?”
“See what?” Yang laughed, face still flushed from their indiscreet moment.
“She still cares about Kali. And she didn't try to tell me I'm not allowed to ‘neck’ with you in her house again.”
Rolling her eyes, the brute stood and gave Weiss another little peck on the cheek to send her on her way. “That's not exactly picking out China patterns for us.”
“True,” she sighed airily as she began to pace toward the door. “But progress is progress.”
----------------------------------------------------
It was the middle of the night when Weiss was jarred from a sound sleep by the blaring of a car horn. She was so startled that she fell out of the bed in her haste to try and stand up as quickly as possible. Going to the window showed Kali's car, Yang already sitting on the passenger windowsill to get her attention. The waving arms weren't all that necessary, but they did help encourage her to move a bit faster.
“What's going on?” Whitley yawned as she passed him in the hallway, still dressed in his pajamas while she had already changed into jeans and a peach-hued blouse.
“None of your concern! Just… just go back to sleep!”
“Is this somehow because of you and those hoodlums?”
Through clenched teeth, she told him, “Back… to your room… and mind your own beeswax, alright?” He did not persist.
Yang's and Kali's faces were both masks of grim seriousness as she approached the car. She tried to ask what the matter might be, but neither of them responded - they merely waited for her to get in the car, and then they were off into the night.
“So,” she began in a quiet, nervous voice. “Anyone care to tell me what this is all about?”
Yang didn't speak at all. It took Kali a moment to glance at her in the rearview mirror and say, “Our biggest lead has gone cold.”
“Oh. So Neo's information turned out to be wrong? Or was she lying?”
“Not exactly.”
Weiss continued to try to wheedle information out of both of them for the rest of the trip, but they remained tight-lipped. They both seemed as groggy and irritable as she felt, which she could understand; they were all supposed to be sleeping, obviously.
In some surprise, Weiss noticed they were heading toward the same flat where Watts had patched up Yang as best he could. What were they doing in Huntsmen territory? She half-expected one of their number to come out of the woodwork, driving them back to their own stomping grounds. But no such event ever came to pass. They found an out-of-the-way spot to park a block over and Kali claimed it as silently as the rest of their trip had been.
“Hey,” Sun greeted them with a nod as they approached the door. Blake was already standing nearby and chatting with him, likely waiting for them to arrive. “You can go right up. We’re just waiting for Salem.”
As they entered and climbed the stairs, Weiss pressed in close to Blake and whispered, “What's going on? Nobody will tell me anything!”
“Thought you already had everything figured out,” she snapped. When Weiss only scowled at her, she sighed. “All right, I'm sorry. I think it's my time of the month or something.”
“I'm not really angry. I just want to know what's going-”
By that point, they were entering the waiting room where she had spent so much time fretting over Yang's fate. There were quite a few more Huntsmen in there this time, including the huge, burly one that was to be Yang's opponent before she convinced them to race. Watts himself was dressed in scrubs, though he had apparently concluded whatever examination had prompted him to don them in the first place.
Weiss relegated herself to one of the corners, trying to seem unimportant. Lately, she'd had enough of everyone assuming she was partially to blame for everything that went wrong. They weren't going to do that to her again - or at least, she wasn't going to paint a target on her chest for them this time.
“We are just waiting on Salem and Sienna now,” said Watts when he noticed Kali there. He didn't seem to have any concern for Yang or Weiss at all, and even less for Blake.
“Very good,” Kali answered him. “Would you mind if young Wukong accompanied me in there to examine the body?”
“By all means.”
That did catch Weiss by surprise. Body? But she didn't dare speak out, simply watching as the blond boy escorted Blake's mother into the examination room. Everyone else remained somber and silent.
“Who died?” she finally asked Yang some five minutes later, trying to keep her voice down to the quietest whisper possible.
“Nobody you knew. Don't worry. But… it's still not great news.”
The next time Kali emerged, she was dragging Neo out by the waist. The girl was making the most horrible noises of distress, gripping the doorframe and fighting with all her might to stay in there.
“Come on!” she was grunting. “Don't… any of you know sign language? Tell this girl there's nothing she can do!”
“Leave her be.” That was the way Salem chose to announce her arrival. Instantly, Kali let Neo go and turned to face her leader. “I presume that the examination has finished?”
“It has,” Watts told her with a weary sigh.
“You're going to get it now,” growled a man with a missing tooth. “We knew your truce was fake, and now we have proof!”
“Shay, relax.” Straightening his tie, he continued to address Salem directly and ignore all others in the room. “You're either angling for even more power than I previously thought… or…”
“Or?” she prompted.
“Or this is not your doing. The slug is obviously from a police-issue pistol. You Dragons don't even touch guns unless it's absolutely necessary, so either this was intended as a message to us from you… or from them.”
Salem contemplated that for a long moment, tapping her chin where it lay in the shadows beneath her hood. “We wouldn't be above it if we had exhausted all other avenues. But in this case, you're right; this had nothing to do with the Dragons. Well…”
After the pause became quite pregnant, Watts prompted, “Well?”
“Well, it may have something to do with one Dragon.”
Every eye in the room turned to look at Weiss. She tried for a moment or two to pretend she didn't notice, but it was an exercise in futility. Shrugging her leather-jacketed shoulders, she said, “What?”
“This is your fault, isn't it?” Sienna said in a flat tone. “Can't resist poking the bear.”
“How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I don't even know who that is in that room - what possible reason would I have for killing them?!”
The High Dragon herself turned to face Weiss directly. “His name was Roman Torchwick. A relatively sleazy character, but also relatively harmless; selling his services to the highest bidder. Though burning down our safe haven is a new low for him.”
“Your Neo was smitten with him,” Watts explained dispassionately, finally peeling off his rubber gloves and shoving them into the pocket of his scrubs. “Whether or not it was Roman in disguise, or her, they probably conspired together to set the blaze.”
“And to drug Emerald,” Blake put in, just to connect the dots faster.
“Hey, you guys can lay off anytime,” Yang snapped angrily - and Weiss found herself falling in love with her all over again for coming to her defense. “Why would she pay somebody to stab herself? That's crazy!”
“Didn't say she did,” Blake protested with a weary sigh. “I'm only making sure we remember that they did both of those things. Doesn't that clear Weiss?”
“Yes, but not her family,” Salem answered immediately. “And I think we all know which member I'm thinking of at this moment.”
Throwing up both hands in resignation, Weiss half-squeaked, “What am I supposed to do about it? He already more or less admitted to setting the fire, and he didn't care! The man has no remorse whatsoever! I… I can't even see him as my father anymore!”
“Control yourself,” Kali said gently, but firmly. “Our next step needs to be determining how he's arranging for these ‘accidents’ from inside the jailhouse. Not throwing around blame amongst ourselves.”
“It’s obviously someone on the police force,” said Watts as if it were an understood fact. When he was greeted by blinks from the others, a single eyebrow hiked. “Really? You’re skeptical? There can be no other manner of his manipulation.”
“It is likely,” Salem admitted. “But Ironwood runs a tight ship.”
“Even a tight ship can spring a leak.”
“Alright,” Yang sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Let’s say it’s the cops. What do we do about it? I mean… call me a looney, but I think we gotta stop this now! He’s just gonna keep doing it. Maybe he would have stopped if Weiss quit the Dragons before, but now…”
Kali finished the thought for her. “Now, he wants revenge.”
From there, the conversation devolved into a discussion of potential methods of catching the mole in the police department. Weiss got a little lost; after all, she was no expert in such espionage. Besides, even if he had completely turned against the rest of the family… he was still her father. Her love couldn’t so easily be erased, even if it was slowly boiling down into hatred.
After a while, Weiss excused herself quietly and slipped into the examination room. Neo was crouched by the table, clutching the hand dangling from under the sheet and rocking back and forth. She started to call out to her — before remembering that would do no good. Instead, she crouched down by her side and touched her shoulder.
“Hey.” Neo didn’t catch that. She blinked up at her as if confused by her presence. “Can you read my lips?” She nodded, numb and distant. “I’m sorry. He was your friend?”
That started a fresh wave of crying that made Neo push her face into the corpse’s hand. Yet another situation in which Weiss felt more conflicted than she felt possible. This girl had caused her to suffer through the most horrendous injury of her entire life… but she was a human being, and in mourning for her accomplice. If Salem had forgiven her following the severe punishment…
Her hand began to pet up and down her back as she whispered “I’m sorry,” even knowing it would not be heard. To her surprise, the words were repeated — when Neo said them, they were more difficult to understand, but Weiss didn’t need her to repeat it again at all.
Once she looked up again for a response, Weiss said, “I’m sorry, too.” Neo made a fist in the center of her chest and moved it in a circle a couple of times. “Does that mean ‘sorry’?” When she nodded, Weiss repeated the action, and Neo pushed her small face into her shoulder, sobbing freely now.
“Great,” she sighed, embracing her tightly and beginning to rock. “Always wanted to make friends with an accomplice to my attempted murder.”
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Blankets made of Trust
“You have one night to decide”.
Jason felt the words thrum through the air on loop before slamming into him, nearly knocking him over as he clenched his teeth until the words in his mind became an indecipherable ringing in his ears. You’ve got to be kidding me. One Night to decide whether I want to become a zombie or an attack dog?! He thought furiously. He wrenched his head up and caught the warning stare of the Bat through the bulletproof glass - Who called him again, Jason thought scathingly - who raised an eyebrow. Careful, he seemed to be saying. Don’t talk, or I’ll take away all your options. Options? That was a fucking joke. There was no other option! The Lazarus pit’s madness had been growing more overwhelming by the hour, and if he went without some kind of spell he would become a mad serial killer. At the same time, what they were proposing was out of the question. Jason scoffed and turned to stare out between the thin bars of his cell. It was a damn miracle the idiots hadn’t been broken into already, most of their walls being made of glass, he thought sourly. It’s not like they leave a guard behind when they fight.
“Red Hood. Did you hear that?”
Jason snapped his head back and levelled his most threatening glare at Nightwing. The idiot puffed his chest out and gazed at him like he thought he was actually intimidating.
“Yes.” He gritted his teeth and forced out the next words; “thank you.”
Batman - you poor excuse for a father mentor, Jason thought bitterly - motioned for everyone to exit his cell and they left without a backwards glance. That self-righteous Bat, the lapdog golden boy and the rest of his fantastic five crew including his replacement left- how humiliating low, to be replaced and then judged, in every sense of the word, by both my brothers him, while he stood in a cell that only had a toilet, sink and bed - with that absolute bitch of a magician. When everybody had left, the door of the enclosed witness area clicked shut, the scrape of a lock echoing soon after. Jason’s head fell back against the wall as he let his breath out explosively.
“Anyway,” Zatanna had said, glancing meaningfully at Batman, “I can definitely block the Lazarus madness, but seeing as he is a criminal I think we should add a few rules to the spell.”
Of course, their pet magician would insist on a few more rules being thrown in; Jason would lose the ability to kill, there was a ‘code phrase’ to make him do whatever they say (paranoid old bat and his lousy replacement) and Jason would hold the spell up with his own energy stores, making him tired easily. Lap dog or Rabid beast. Jason grimaced, closing his eyes to stop the burning sensation just behind them. Doomed if I do, doomed if I don’t, he thought grimly.
A flash of purple light had his eyes snapping open in shock as a figure with an armload of objects materialised in the shadows of his room. Jason tried not to stare as the residual smoke revealed the objects to be a shiny diadem, an old - and well preserved, he noted approvingly - tome as well as a few bottles of what seemed to be softly glowing…somethings.
“Hey there, lucky little ravenclaw. You coming out? What's up your ass?” He inquired tiredly.The figure - Raven, he remembered- looks like a literal shadow, clad in a deep blue cloak that seemed to suck at the very light around her until she was little more than a barely discernible silhouette against the dark walls. All the same, the way she carried herself made him think of a sorceress or queen of old from the books he used to read. Heck, maybe even a goddess, like she’s saying ‘I have made a decision, and nothing you say or do will stop me’. Like she wasn’t thinking about how much care that book deserved or whether she should consider giving it away.“I’ve made a decision,” She answered in a low, musical voice. “And nothing you say or do will stop me.” Well. That was serendipitous.
“I’ve thought about what Batman wants Zatanna to do to you, and…” Raven hesitated. “I don’t think that this is right.”
Dully, Jason wondered if she would ever gain the courage to do more than just voice her disapproval with Batman’s methods. If any of these ‘heroes’ would. Probably not; there must have been a reason she worked here, after all.
“I’m willing to offer you an alternative solution; I can cast a spell on you instead.” Her words were delivered with complete certainty, taking an subtle breath and squaring her shoulders afterward. Pure unadulterated rage sprang to life within his veins. Jason’s face rearranged itself into a truly ugly, fearsome expression, his muscles tensing in preparation for a fight.
“So, what? You’re just going to put your own spell on me before she does?” Jason spat bitterly.
“No. I’m going to -”
“I’m not going to be your slave, or anyone else’s, for that matter. You can tell Zatanna that, too.”
“I don’t want you to be my slave. I want you to pick and choose the words of the spell that will seal the Lazarus away, so I can, with your consent, cast that specific spell on you.”
Jason’s eyebrows decided to try defying gravity to fly into his hair. After a startled second, he barked out a laugh. He crowded the female titan against the wall and glared down at her, clenching his hands. To his annoyance, she seemed apathetic to the point of boredom.
“Give me a break, sunshine. In what universe would the golden boy -”
“Don’t call him that.”
“The Bat’s loyal bitch-”
“Language.”
“-ever send you to free me without stipulations?”
“As far as I know, none. Which is why I am here of my own volition, without his knowledge.”
Raven swept passed him and laid her belongings on the bed. Jason’s eyebrows held an unanimous meeting and promptly decided to retry their earlier flight. “What?”
Raven paused her idle flipping of her book to spare a dry glance at him. “Are you hard of hearing, Jay-son?” she carefully enunciated. Jason scowled.
”Forgive my surprise, oh smart one. I’m just surprised you of all people would go against his back. You aren’t ruled by your emotions, and you always do what your leader says -” Raven twirled around to face him suddenly, something flickering in her eyes, gone before he could decipher it.
“I don’t do what Nightwing tells me to do. I do what I think is right.” she corrected, a hint of soft rebuke in her tone. She resumed her flipping of the books pages until she reached her goal and moved on to sort the eerily glowing crystal bottles.
“And helping a convicted criminal is part of your moral obligation, is it?” Jason slouched against the wall, raising his hands incredulously.
“Helping anyone and everyone who truly needs it is a part of my moral obligation.” Raven declared proudly without hesitation. Was this girl serious? One look at her face and Jason knew she clearly was. “I understand you heroes think all killers were beyond redemption.” He commented with wry amusement.“You shouldn’t stereotype.” She said coolly, “Or tell your assumptions to a hero, who happens to be a demon.” Jason paused, mulling that revelation over. It was common knowledge among those who fought in the same circles as him that Raven’s magic was uncommon. Several unscrupulous magic users he talked to had fearfully claimed that her energy was ‘demonic’. Jason silently apologised for rolling his eyes or dismissing these accounts as fanciful or exaggerations and resolved to buy any of them drinks if he happened to see them again. “Besides, it’s usually unwise to be so presumptuous of a person you desperately need help from.”
“What makes you say that?” He parried defensively, scratching his chin. “For all you know, I could have broken out and found another gullible magician to give me a few potions or something.”
“But you won’t. You’ve already tried, and none of them were powerful enough.” She supplied bluntly. “I..” She looked away, almost shamefaced, “I felt it.”
She… what? Ah. Right. Empath, he suddenly recalled, wincing. He was good at concealing his facial expressions, but nothing could have masked the sheer desperation he felt when he showed up at their door. Merde. He must have looked like such a fool for trying to seem like he didn’t need her help.
“I’m not trying to control you, Jason. The book is a dictionary; you can pick and choose the words you want me in the spell and I’ll perform it.” Her soft, persuasive tone urged him to believe her.
“Why should I believe you?” Jason snarled, lashing out with a feeling of vicious satisfaction upon seeing her take a step back. “What if this is one of Nightwing’s tricks to rummage around my head gathering intel?”
”I will not enter your mind - that’s not necessary at all in this circumstance - and if I do, you can easily overpower me while I am in a trance.”
“What use would that be? Then we’d both be in here, and I can add resisting arrest to my list of crimes.”
Raven looked like she was having difficulty stopping herself from rolling her eyes. She waved her hand, magically unlocking the cell door. “Are you always this paranoid?”
“No. Just when I’m in the headquarters of sworn enemies and about to be magically lobotomized within twenty-four hours - not to be rude, but at least a third of your colleagues have tried to send me to Arkham asylum.” Jason reminded her flatly, crossing his arms.
“Exactly! What do you have to lose!?”
“My life. Also, I’m doing fine. I could easily break out of here if I wanted too.” Raven looked pointedly at her spell book, exaggeratedly feigning patience. Jason’s lips twitched, satisfied. Annoying her was fun.
“Although I appreciate your sense of derring-do, I really must insist I block the madness trying to make you go on a killing spree before you leave.”
“While telling Nightwing all the extra little details you’ll happen to hear while we talk, huh?” Jason’s eyes bored into her, suddenly agate-hard. It really isn’t fair, he thought suddenly, that Raven could so easily try to deceive me like this. Life wasn’t fair. Jason knew this, and didn’t understand why he felt like crying right now. It must have been the stress. Or the Lazarus pit. It certainly couldn’t be anything else, since he’d been lied to so many times before and he’d generally been unbothered. In fact, he had started expecting certain people to lie about being on his side and had taken to wearing a doubly reinforced Kevlar suit. It had saved him from knives in the back - literally - more than a few times. The bruises still hurt like a motherfucker, though. Raven slowly took out her communicator - and slid it towards him.
“There. Now I can’t contact him in any way. Is that all?” He bent down and slowly picked it up. Jason thought about it for some time. He disliked any kind of spell on him, especially spells that would be permanent and affected his mind, however positive the effect might be. All the same though, it was necessary and Raven was giving him as much freedom that he could want. Something akin to grudging respect; or gratitude welled within him.
“Fine.” he complied gruffly, resisting the stupid urge to thank her. “I just have to pick out words in this book, right?”
He strode over to the tiny cot and picked it up, carefully not taking his eyes off her nor touching the freaky looking vials. “What’s the language - oh, right, English is this half of the page. Okay, this should be easy enou- no. Stay where you are. I don’t want you to move while I’m reading this book.” She threw him an exasperated look and disregarded his command, sitting beside him and leaning against the headboard.
“Of course, Jason. Would you like me to hold your hand?” she asked sardonically. “That should be reassuring enough, shouldn’t it?”
Jason ignored that, trying to concentrate on being irritated with her instead of the thought of his hands, warming and covering her tiny ones. He cleared his throat and tapped several words in quick succession to distract himself. “Would those words work?”
Raven, he learned, had a incredibly wide vocabulary and impressive command of tone. She could add inflections that added entire volumes of meaning of her words. On the whole, though, he would have preferred a less exhaustive running commentary of the kind of gruesome implications his miswording could cause. In retrospect, he realized that he should have chosen to ‘block’ the madness, instead of ‘concentrating’ it in his head, but Raven took great pleasure in describing the resulting explosion that would cause. Raven went on to describe - very unnecessarily in his opinion, the other various failings that would stop his heart, give him wings on the sides of his heads and cause his face to erupt in highly painful tentacles in glowing terms with apparent relish, never mind that any one of them was good enough reason to reword the spell. Raven tended to overdramatise certain things, he noticed. Especially things that would result in giving him a terminal injury, which, ha, he was sure wouldn’t be permanent this time over, either, especially if the Lazarus was still in his system. He said as such to Raven, who promptly whacked him over the head with her book - ow, it was heavier than she made it look - and told him to “focus, you leather-skulled domnoddy.”
“You aren’t afraid of me? I’m apparently a very unhinged serial killer, after all.” Jason grumbled half-curiously, rubbing his complaining skull.
“I could ask the same of you. I’ve never met someone who was so calm upon learning about my heritage. I’m practically a descendant of lucifer.”
That- That was something he had not considered. “If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization.” Jason quoted, shrugging.
“Well said.” Raven said after a pause.
“I’m afraid I can’t take credit - a quote by Robert Green Ingersole. I’m more than willing to share his belief when it comes to you, though.”
“That’s kind of you. Although, I think you give the serpent too much credit. I like to think we would have eaten the apple eventually anyway.”
‘We’ he mouthed. Not ‘you’. Interesting. “I can’t tell if your view is cynical or optimistic, little birdie.”
“Optimistic. I like the thought that we’re curious enough to try to better ourselves, no matter how flawless we may be.”
“Hypothetically, could it be said that the humans were truly flawless before they ate the apple?”
“No. If they were flawless, their faith would have made them invulnerable to tempting. Besides, their children became the first murderer and victim of the world; seeing as how humans learn from their parents, they couldn’t have been close to flawless.” Raven countered.
“Fair enough. If neither of us can accept that eating the apple was evil, and that faith isn’t our greatest strength, what is?”
“Perception. Just because one person sees it differently doesn’t mean either is wrong. It’s what makes us human and helps us advance - If Eden’s humans were perfect, it must have been a pretty bland place.” Raven smiled shyly, - cute - like what she just said had a special meaning for her. “And if you define perception as a type of knowledge, then it was gained by eating the apple.” Jason stared at her, a little in awe. His debating skills had been blunted by his lack of intelligent company since Alfred, but he had enough wits to recognise a superior orator. “You’re delightfully witty, little bird.” He complimented. There was a lull in conversation while she focused on reading the spell. Idly, he wondered if she was avoiding his eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he’d made her flustered (of course, he would want to make any girl flustered, Jason thought, consciously not questioning if that was true). “Thank you. This wording ought to do it.”
Raven withdrew a rod from within her cloak, upon which closer inspection revealed a point easily as sharp as a dagger. Jason felt the blood rush from his face and stumbled away from her, falling off the cot and sending one of the vials flying, shattering on impact with the wall next to the cot. Raven jumped and refocused her eyes on Jason, befuddled. After a awkward pause, in which Jason remained frozen with consternation half on and half off the bed, acutely aware of the foul-smelling concoction dripping onto the cot, Raven coughed, folding her sleeve over her nose and gingerly edging away from the liquid.
“Jason.” She scolded nasally, “I need to draw some symbols on your skin before I can cast the spell on you.”
“No way.” He refused flatly, surreptitiously putting the cot between them. “The last person to approach me with a piece of metal that big killed me and I’m not letting you inscribe stuff into my skin.”
“First on all, if you want to recover from that trauma, I know a couple of therapists who won’t care about your alter ego. I can accompany you if you really want help.” She spoke haltingly, turning away to dip her instrument in one of the vials while a curtain of hair shielded her expression.Jason’s snapped to hers in astonishment. That was not the response he was expecting. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was most certainly not that. “Secondly, I would never kill you, ever! If you can’t go with me, don’t you have someone else to accompany you to therapy?” Raven looked at him, fire sparking in her plum eyes. Jason sat back down on the cot and put his interlocked hands behind his head. “You saw how Bruce looked at me, little birdie. I don’t trust my brothers one bit with this and the one person who might go with me is back at the old Batman HQ. I can’t exactly pop in and ask him to come to therapy with me; god, what would he think anyway?” Jason scoffed, too jaded for tears.
“I believe you.” Raven admitted quietly. She sighed, her exhale sounding like branches rattling in the wind and Jason suddenly remembered Catherine, tired, Catherine, jaded, Catherine, with a sigh like branches rattling in the wind and a will like a dying ember. Jason frowned. That sound was far, far too tired to match one so courageous and lovely as her. If it was up to me, she’d never make that sound again. He thought firmly.
“You don’t belong there anymore; I know what that’s like.” Raven looked even more tired then, not angry, just… sad. Her eyes looked old. Her lashes fluttered, as though just keeping them upright was causing her effort, and Jason had a strange impulse to wipe that look of her face. “But.” Raven straightened, Jason mirroring her, and suddenly the formidable titan was back. “That doesn’t mean you have to cut off contact with that person. Dick’s told me about him - his name is Alfred, right? If what Dick has said about him was true, then you should write to him - he’s been worrying about you.” Jason looked down, wishing he’d had the foresight to smuggle in a cigarette with him.
“He wouldn’t welcome my letters, little bird.”
“Yes, he would! You’re so smart,” she protested. “How can someone as smart as you not see that!”
Jason felt the tips of his ears glow in an odd kind of embarrassed pride.“Alright. I’ll try.” He coughed, feeling foolish. Raven looked oddly proud, her eyes more tender than Jason felt was appropriate.
“Try to write about something you love or admire. It’ll be easier that way,” she advised, placing her rod - which emanated an uncomfortable burning sensation - directly over his heart. Jason tried not to flinch unsuccessfully. “What is that?”
“A toothpick of a giant.” Raven replied nonchalantly, focusing on her work. Jason blinked. “How?” He was unable to articulate further than that, but Raven must have gleaned what he was asking through his gobsmacked expression. After quelling a fit of laughter with a snort, Raven explained, ”We were sucked into another dimensions on one of our missions. Nightwing, in his infinite wisdom, took one look at the sleeping 30ft giant and decided to punch it in the nose, and then got us both sucked in it’s left nostril when it snorted.” Jason cackled wildly. Raven shook her head jokingly, smiling at him. “Honestly, if we hadn’t acquired such a valuable tool climbing out of it’s mouth -” Raven punctured her tale of woe with a horrified shudder, to Jason’s renewed cackles growing ever-louder. “I think I would have left him there when we managed to teleport back here.”
“So it was like a series of unfortunate events, huh?” Jason lilted flippantly. Raven swatted at him mock irritably, but he could see the hint of a grin on her face before she composed herself. Why did she do that? Jason immediately began running through his repertoire of book references for something that might bring that beautiful smile back. Woah. Beautiful smile? He questioned himself, mentally shooing away from that thought. Bad thought. Go back to wherever you came from, because you certainly did not come from The Red Hood’s esteemed intellect. Jason cleared his throat, his palms unreasonably sweaty for some reason and almost dropped the book he remembered he was still holding at the last minute. “Aren’t you afraid of Nightwing catching you red handed?”
Raven’s eyes dropped to the whitewashed floor. “No,” she uttered softly. “He’s much too busy fighting with Starfire right now to worry about anything else”. Raven met his gaze with a pained smile, her eyes soft with sadness. Jason’s stomach twisted nauseatingly and he suddenly regretted his question.
“Trouble in paradise?” he joked feebly, raising an eyebrow. He wanted to take back the words as soon as he said them. “Something like that.” Raven crossed her arms and blinked away any emotions that had been present in her gaze. No, no, dammit! Look what you did, he snarled inwardly, you made her close up!
“Starfire’s people are traditionally polyamorous but Dick-Nightwing refuses to talk to her about any options or - well, anything outside of work, now.”
Her words, although sudden, were unusually soft and tired compared to their earlier banter. Jason jolted up to look at Raven, who had apparently taken his silence for an inquiry.
“Uncommunicative as ever when it comes to love, those bats, I see. ah, lord, what fools these mortals be.” he blurted impulsively, wincing inwardly. Raven threw her head and her hood back - she has such lovely plump cherry lips! - and laughed. Her laugh was deep, and husky, he noted absently, as it quieted to infectious chuckles, and quite possibly the warmest thing he had ever heard in his life. Somehow managing to be on the quiet side, yet filling the room with her vibrant presence until he felt like he could hardly breathe. “Nobody who loves is a complete fool, and if it indeed foolishness, then it is divine folly.” She teased playfully, the tiredness in her voice vanishing like mist on a hot day, the corners of her mouth still twitching. Jason let out the breath he had been holding, a chuckle of his own beginning to rumble in his throat as he leaned back on the small cot.
Jason reached for a flask among the glowing vials, to find Raven curling protectively over it, calling it her Assam; her favourite tea. He had to release a few more chuckles upon seeing her so passionate of her tea - she’d get along well with someone he knows. After that, however, the tension surrounding them eased into something easy and almost familiar, almost distracting him from the complicated patters Raven was twirling over his bare chest.
“Do this often, little bird? Only artists like painters normally have this level of precision.” He commented.
“I don’t just do it for other spells.” She admitted reluctantly. “I make art of all kinds.” Jason tilted his head, curious. “I use paint to draw murals, I draw the stories I read about, and I draw the plants and animals I’ve seen from other, um, other-” She elaborated eagerly. Her eyes sparkled and she tossed her head, displaying a burst of passion Jason found himself unable to look away from. “Places?” He offered.
“Planets.” She finished wryly. “And sometimes dimensions, too.” She frowned, studying him closely. “Hold still. I need to kiss this seal in order for the spell to activate.” Without waiting for his reply, Raven swooped down and planted a light, soft kiss on her glyphs, which began to glow with the same light her vials had. Jason started, lowering his hand from behind his back to touch the place she had kissed him - and whacked her soundly on the nose as she looked up. “Ow!” Raven slid in his lap.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Jason yelped. “Are you okay, little birdie? Oh, god, I haven’t broken anything, have I? Deep breaths, Deep breaths. Should I call an ambulance - do you even have a doctor in this place?!”
Jason’s arms fluttered uselessly around her as she pressed against the bridge of her nose gingerly.
“I’m good.” She winced. “I have healing powers.”
Jason felt unbearably awkward. Would turning himself into the bat end the feeling of wanting to climb under the cot and never come out? Jason wasn’t sure, but he seriously considered it for a few, long silence filled minutes. Raven exhaled heavily, her breath touching his neck, and Jason suddenly became excruciatingly aware of their position. His heart kept banging against his chest like it was trying to reach her. Jason could have counted every single one of her eyelashes. Her brow creased. Oh, god. She could hear his heartbeats, couldn’t she? Geez, had they always been this loud? Ugh. Jason felt like he could die of embarrassment. Raven cleared her throat and gracefully stood up on the cot, moving around him to inspect the mess on the wall. Always so graceful. Jason stood up hurriedly and turned to face her back, rubbing his neck.
“The spell is complete; the pit’s madness will never affect you again. If you want, you can leave; There isn’t anything very interesting to do now,” she murmured, almost apologetically, beginning to clean the stain away with magic.
“Why would I? As if you could ever be boring.” he said reproachfully.She blushed, which shot a thrill up his spine that manifested in what must have been a thoroughly dopey smile on his face. God. What was she doing to him? Jason wondered. Whatever it was, it made his chest feel confused and happy and tight and yearning at the same time, so he pushed the feeling down and forced himself to smirk.“What is that, by the way? You didn’t use it, did you? That looks nasty.” Jason cringed as another drop of the mystery liquid reached his bedding.
“No, I didn’t. You didn’t choose any of the words that required it. It’s human blood.” Raven explained absently, rolling his eyes, at his disgusted expression.
“It was one of the men we were too late to save - he tried saving another man who had been framed who was imprisoned in his kingdom’s palace dungeons.”
“He was idealistic for trying to save someone in the government’s headquarters” Jason decreed firmly. Raven gave him an amused look. Damn, she was way too perceptive for her own good.
“Or perhaps he was honourable to not condemn the prisoner to an unjust fate.” She lilted, almost playfully. Did she just flutter her eyelashes at me?
“You know what I‘m implying. If robin figures out you did this, he could kick you out, little bird. I’d be happy to host you as a selfless citizen, myself, though.” Jason brightened, not at all selflessly.
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take. You should not have to suffer for his need to micromanage everything related to the Titans. Besides, he’s so emotionally stunted he’d never punish me in a way I can’t see him gloat over my misery.” Raven retorted pertly. Jason tried to choke back a cackle, staring at her incredulously. He ended up making what he imagined to be the sound a dog toy made when it broke, which was why he tried to stop imagining and change the subject. Did she really just say that? “And if he puts you in this cell?”
“I’ll tell him to stop sulking like a spoilt brat. He always looks like he needs to take a shit.”
Jason struggled to control the tide of snickers pouring out of him. Okay, he decided, she wasn’t just witty, she was hilarious.
“He probably won’t try anything too painful, with you long gone and I being as valuable as I am - oh!” Raven slipped off the bed, into Jason’s instinctive embrace. Sudden, burning fury roared within him, the type that threatened to lash out if provoked.
“And if he tries to hurt you like a spoilt child, I’ll cut off his cock and nail it to a sewer wall somewhere until he remembers his manners.” Jason growled fiercely. She stared at him from their close proximity, the laidback energy between them tightening and fraying with tension. Jason fidgeted, realising how protective that statement had sounded. What was she doing to him?
“Since you’ve been so good to me, and all.” He added hastily.
“That’s gross, Jason.” She said, relaxing in his arms - too close, too fucking close, her back was curving against his arm - and he set her down carefully, supressing a shudder. Jason’s eyes widened.
“Here!” He thrust her communicator back at her. She glanced at it, surprised, as if she had forgotten about it too. When she reached to take it, Jason impulsively clasped her hands with his other fingers.
“Would…” Jason licked his lips, steeling himself, noting how raven’s eyes traced where his tongue had been and drawing strength from it.
“Would you like to come to dinner with me?” he waited, breathless.
“I’d like that…”
She squeezed her eyes shut, and tensed her shoulders like she expected Jason to reprimand her or make her feel guilty.
“What convinced you?” he asked, curiously. She looked up in surprise and blessed him with a gentle smile. Jason found it oddly adorable.
“I hadn’t realized what a charmer you were.” she drawled.
Jason blushed furiously and rubbed his neck, glancing at Raven, who seemed to be more amused by the second.
“So, where should we meet? Your place? You don't exactly have a secret to keep, now.” She pointed out. Jason guilty thought of the red x costume in his condo.
“I do have a secret, actually.”
“I'm sure it must be simply dreadful.” Raven said placidly, reclining on the cot. Jason thought about the way she hadn’t hesitated to help him regardless of what her leader said. He thought about the look she’d given him when he had told her about not being able to go home. He thought about how she looked when he’d said he would write to Alfred. He swallowed and cradled her cheeks. If he was feeling particularly brave when remembering this later, he might have thought that she had nuzzled into the cradle of his hands.
“It might be, honestly. I can’t tell how you’ll see it as. But if you come to my condo next week, I promise I’ll tell you everything.” he whispered hoarsely - apologetically - in her ear.
“Everything?” Raven echoed. There was an unspoken question in her eyes, and Jason wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and rock away the doubt in her eyes until she felt secure again. He settled for wetting his lips. Later, he reminded himself. Later. “Yeah, Little Bird. Everything you want, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you. In our world, telling me your information means a lot.” She looked at him with growing respect and a touch of admiration in her eyes. “That must have taken a lot of courage.”Jason smiled at her. What a weird person. What a weird demon. She was simply wonderful, he decided. Absolutely wonderful. Jason stared into her amethyst shining with hope, and privately managed to gather enough thought to decide on writing to Alfred about her. He thinks that he’ll write that his lady (if it would not be presumptuous to call her that) is unapologetic when breaking rules, brutally honest, a real demon but that she paints for fun, is loyal to her ethics first and foremost, keeps her books in pristine condition, a true hero yet a gentle soul and would look terribly, terribly breathtaking if he can convince her to wear a flower crown and get her eyes to sparkle like they were again.
Ripping his eyes away from her reluctantly, he backed out of the door and looked back - to see a flash of purple smoke. Of course! He felt like hitting his temple with the palm of his hand. She has magic; she could have left or alerted Nightwing at any time without his knowledge! For some odd, indecipherable reason, this revelation caused him to break out in bouts of uncontrollable snickers as he jumped out the closest window.
He decided to add Assam tea to his shopping list.
Epilogue.
“Little Bird.” Raven spared a questioning glance at her - their - bed’s other occupant, who winked at her and waved lazily. Raven pursed her lips and aimed her gaze back at the novel in her hands, stifling a yawn. “It’s time to sleep.”
“One more chapter.”
“Mon petit oiseau, you know I adore a good book as much as you do. But I adore our bedtime ritual even more, love. Haven’t you finished that tea yet anyway?”
“Almost.” She turned a page and cradled her mug with both hands, draining it.“Awesome.” Jason stole a languid kiss to distract her as he plucked her book out of her hands and set it down on his bedside table.
“Mmm- Jason!” Raven protested weakly. He grinned at her and palmed her hips slowly. “What is it, darling? You know neither of us can sleep properly unless you do your ritual.” It had started about a year into their relationship, after a particularly bad nightmare. She set down her cup down with a mellifluous rap and squirmed to straddle his lap. Jason quickly draped a blanket around her shoulders and held her in a warm embrace. He'd quickly learned that she would get cold very easily and took full advantage of this fact to shamelessly encourage her to press every inch of herself against him whenever she was cold. Privately, Jason thanked whoever was up there that she hadn't caught him turning their 'broken' heater off yet. Raven exhaled as her fingers slowly caressed his face. Starting with his jawline, pressing kisses to his temple, lingering below his ears - he had to focus on not keening when she suckled beneath his earlobe -then combing his explosion of hair back, her dainty fingers travelling lower to his temples.
Three years onward and she still did this ritual every night, he thought fondly. “You have wrinkles”. she breathed abruptly. Wrinkles? On his gorgeous face? Jason thought. Oh, hell no. They were not wrinkles. They were the bags beneath his eyes. A few good nights sleep with his Raven and it’d clear right up. If not, the wrinkles had better pray for nothing more than skin lotion.
“Where?” Jason demanded indignantly. Raven touched the corners of this eyes gently, her eyes glowing tenderly.
“Did you know”, she began conversationally, “that there is one smile that cannot be replicated unless you are happy? It’s the only smile that includes the eyes - that’s where the saying ‘smiling eyes’ comes from.”
Jason sat back, wondering where the hell she was going with this, but happy to let her talk for as long as she wanted.
“If you smile that smile enough, well” she shrugged, tapping his wrinkles. “You must have been smiling a lot for some reason.”
“I wonder why,” Jason quipped, looking at her dimpling mouth hintingly. Raven let another of her low chuckles escape, curving her mouth invitingly - success! Jason rejoiced, part delightedly, part triumphantly - and leaned forward and brushed her lips against his - alright, fine - wrinkles then teasingly nibbling his lips before withdrawing, smirking impishly and batting her eyelashes coyly. Jason growled as she licked her lips deliberately. “I’m glad you’ve been smiling more,” she whispered earnestly, the look in her eyes taking Jason's breath away. He softened and swooped to capture her lips in a kiss that made her head spin and forced a swoon out of her mouth.
Jason wondered how she’d react to the information of her own acquired stunning wrinkles. Better not tell her, he decided lovingly, before Raven purred his name in his ear and he lost all coherent thought.
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“A series of unfortunate Events” - references a series of rather unpleasant, old children’s books.“Lord, what fools these mortals be!” - A midsummer’s night dream (Puck)“Nobody who loves is a complete fool. And if it is, then it is divine foolishness.” The squire, his knight, and his lady by Gerald Morris (Ganscotter and King Arthur)If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization. - Robert Green Ingersole.
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uhghhhhhhhh this was an absolute monster, @theplacewherebeautylies. “Let’s start writing! It’ll be easy! I can quit at any time” AND I CHOOSE TO MAKE A FREAKING 6341 word fic. IT’S 2AM. This is my first fic and I can already relate so much to those sleepless writer’s post. I hope you enjoy and thank you to @bluescove for beta-ing, I think it really helped!
#raex#redrae#raehood#6K#oneshot#jayrae#ow. ow. ow.#my writing#fanfic#lunar crow#so glad it's over#soft#how long will it take you to read? about as long as I took to write it I assume#teen titans#teen titans fanfiction#xrae#so many red underlines saying I misspelled something#I didn't#but still#very annoying#lots of quotes bc I am a bookworm @ heart#I gave up looking at a rainstorm to finish writing this#THAT'S HOW INVESTED I WAS IN FINISHING THIS STORY#6341 words#Gonna go stuff my face as a reward woo!#bluescove#theplacewherebeautylies
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