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tavyliasin · 4 months

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ATG 6 - Lust? Love

In which rules of the heart and body are written and read.

Pairing: Astarion/Tav SPICE Rating: 0.5/5 Content Warnings: No sex, angst, consent discussions, hint of trauma and PTSD (no detail)

Spoilers Mid Act 2 Astarion Romance development Canon Compliance Canon Adjacent - The main canon events happen, but I wanted to add in some earlier discussion here about polyamory potential, and explore the idea of separating love and lust as 2 separate things particularly for these 2 characters and their dynamic. Other Notes This was originally longer with a rewrite of the canon discussion, but it didn't feel write to put that much emotion into this piece so here's your slice of sexless angst with a little hint at the future. Song/Mood

The Expanse by Juniper Vale "Don't don't breath heavy Leave behind your hurt, Get hit with the magic that overcomes this world. Holy, holy, holy is the love that saved me, Holy, holy, I believe in love that's lovely. Don't don't breath heavy, Open up your hands, The heavens are dreaming to give you the Expanse."

----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

The Shadowlands had held far more danger than Tav and her companions had ever considered possible. Their plan to find a cure for the tadpoles at Moonrise Tower had immediately been foiled as soon as they had arrived. A far greater threat had revealed itself to them, and at this point Tav was wondering exactly how many enemies they could possibly make across the Sword Coast.

However, they had also forged several powerful alliances, too. The legendary hero Jaheira had joined their cause, and Halsin had also become closer now that his business in helping to remove the shadow curse was almost complete.

And then there was the Guardian. Another dream, and Tav found herself feeling something between pity and a hint of affection for them. They did, after all, show a good deal of care for her, beyond some shared goal… A couple more times now, they had spoken in her dreams, and she found herself comforting them , too. She listened, let them lean upon her shoulder to ease the burden of the seemingly endless battle they were locked in within the artefact. A battle that kept them all from falling to the sway of the tadpole control, or to the horror of ceremorphosis that hung over their heads like a guillotine’s blade on a fraying rope. An ally perhaps only by circumstance, but wasn’t that how they had all begun together?...

Tav was finally roused from the last vestiges of sleep that her exhausted mind clung to by her favourite alarm, the musical voice of a certain pale elf.

“You saw them again, I take it?” Astarion peered into Tav’s still sleep-heavy eyes as she blinked in the flickering candlelight of the room they all shared in the Last Light Inn.

“Did you not see the same?” She replied, half yawning as she did, noticing that the rest of their companions had already left to get breakfast in the main area downstairs with the Harpers.

“Maybe, but I’m not certain we always exchange the same words, and the one who appears to me is no Tiefling. Unless they’ve hidden their horns exceptionally well, that is.” He laughed a little handing her a flask of fresh water. “Do you have any idea who they are?”

“Not yet… But they seem…” She paused, searching for what she meant. “They care , or at least put up an exceptionally good show of it. They don’t seem like they’re lying, though.” Another pause, as she tried to word things very carefully. “Why else would they appear to me during a nightmare? They sensed my heart rate and fear, and pulled me into their landscape instead, staying with me until morning.”

“You know, I would’ve stayed up with you if you asked.” He almost sounded a little hurt, but Tav was very reluctant to reveal the details of that particular dream to the pale elf, who was searching her eyes for answers even now.

“It’s…complicated. Had I woken, of course I would’ve talked to you. We have… Well, you tell me, Astarion.” She felt a little guilty for so deftly turning the tables on him, but it was beginning to confuse her, how his affections ebbed and flowed like a restless sea. One day the waves would crash around her, damn near drowning her in desire, but the next he would pull back, almost as if he was afraid she might shatter if he touched her the wrong way.

“Well…that’s…” He sighed heavily and echoed her words, sitting on the bed beside her.. “Complicated, darling.”

---

It was not an easy conversation to have, but Tav respected it. Who was she to judge how he processed…well, there was clearly a whole lot to deal with. It made her blood boil, knowing somewhere out there Cazador still drew rancid breath, that he was still likely doing the same thing to more people… At the end of the day, though, if Astarion wasn’t comfortable with a most physically intimate relationship for a while, then she was happy with that. In truth she had almost been surprised at how quickly they had been together, and the intensity of their encounters had been almost overwhelming.

“Take all the time you need,” she said simply, hoping to ease the worried look in his eyes. “I’m right here. I’m not going to leave you just because we aren’t sleeping together. Lust is lust, but love…is something entirely different.”

“Darling I couldn’t have said it better myself. So keep that in mind, should the opportunity to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh entice you. Let me keep your heart, for now, but your body remains your own.” Finally the hint of a smile broke through once more. “I’ve seen the way Halsin looks at you, I wouldn’t blame you for spending a night with his bare flesh. Or is it bear? So hard to tell with druids, these days, always shapeshifting when you least expect it.” He was clearly deflecting his pain again with the easy humour, but that was alright for now. Still, his words seemed genuine, and gave her pause. “You’re certain?...” Tav faltered, her mind leaping unwillingly right back to that dream, Raphael’s darkly growling voice almost physically echoing in her ear once more. It was also a little difficult for her to deny the longing, the unsated desire stirring at the most inopportune moments. “I don’t want to hurt you, to lose this. ” “You’ve trusted me, love, even when I could’ve killed you. So now, I suppose, it’s my turn to trust you.” He kissed her cheek softly, squeezing her hand reassuringly once more. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.” Another foolish word fell from her lips without hesitation, and had it been anyone else hearing that open offer she might have been in quite a lot of trouble. But the pale elf simply smiled wider, a hint of mischief beginning to sparkle in his eyes once more.

“Save your stories, write down every tale in here.” He handed over an old but empty book, the first few pages torn out, but otherwise intact. ”Tell me all about it. Every sordid detail. Don’t spare a single word, so that when we are ready, you can tell me all of your adventures~”

“If it’s stories you want, we’d be better off finding Volo when we reach Baldur’s Gate-”

“No, darling,” he cut her off, “I only want to hear about you, so I can share in your passions.”

“Who knows if I’ll even have anything to put in these pages?”

“Love, have you seen yourself? I’ve half a mind to buy several more just in case.”

Tav looked again at the sizeable tome in her hand, slightly intimidated by his expectations until she noticed there was a little writing in the cover. “What’s this?”

Rule 1: Survive. Do whatever you must to stay alive.Rule 2: Live. Find your pleasure where you can get it, remember what life means beyond survival.Rule 3: Take. If nobody else needs it, it’s yours, especially if the owner has more than they need.She paused and looked up at him quizzically. “What? You talk in your sleep, love, I thought I might as well record your wisdom.” “Are you mocking me, Astarion?” “Wouldn’t dream of it. I admire your wit, as well as your willpower. Amongst other things, naturally.” His eyes drifted back down to the page, inviting Tav to look again at the next line. “Hold on, I never had a Rule 4.” She raised an eyebrow, almost challenging him for the audacity to add to her life’s core tenets. “Do you disagree?” He smirked, a reassuring sign that despite all their woes he was still the same cocky vampire she had unwittingly fallen for. “Rule 4,” she read aloud, “Taste. Sample from any plate before you that is appetising.” “Why deny yourself? If you’re hungry, you eat.” “We aren’t talking about food, are we.” “We are not.” “I suppose I’ll just have to see what ends up on the menu, then…”

The aged floorboards of the stairs creaked, announcing the approach of one of their companions.

“Sorry to disappoint you but there doesn’t seem to be a menu here, but the Harpers have managed to make a palatable porridge at least.” Gale’s face appeared at the door, just after his voice. “Oh thank goodness you’re clothed, I wondered what I might walk in on-”

Tav glared a full armoury of daggers at the intruder…intruder in the communal area…still, he couldn’t have picked much worse timing. “Alright, I surrender - point taken. If looks could kill, eh?” Gale shrugged, an apologetic gesture despite his flippant words. “But we do need to go, and soon, so better to march on a full stomach and all that.”

Tav tucked the book into her pack, resolving to make it to the other side of the day so she might live to fill at least a page or two. Rule 4, indeed, she thought, challenge accepted, Astarion. ---

The vampire watched his lover leave the room ahead of him. She needed her strength, as she had allowed him to feed on her the night before. Foolishly selfless , he thought to himself, though if he were being honest he couldn’t be sure of which one of them he was referring to. He had meant every word, of course. Lust and love were separate entities, like night and day, really. Both could light the world, but the colour and intensity of their light, those were entirely different. The cool moonlight of lust brought the beauty of the stars as well as the dangers in the shadows, yet the warmth of love’s bright sun could just as easily burn as it could brighten a dark day. It’s all so bloody complicated. But somehow, she understands. It would be so much easier if she didn’t, if we could just call this whole thing off- He stopped himself in his own thoughts again, deciding that lying to himself should surely be beneath him by now. She accepted all that he was, without expectation, without judgement for his past, without trying to pry open every dark secret. Tav had opened her arms and heart, and he was all too willing to step inside. I should’ve known you were dangerous, darling, from the moment you stopped my blade. What a beautiful trap you have set for me, an open door and all the freedom in the world. I’ll try to learn your rules, love, they’re the only ones worth a damn.

----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- ----------- Roll credits, we have the very book that the title of this fic is based on making a cameo! Silly? Perhaps, but this is the premise of ATG at its core. Tav's rules of life, and how she applies them to the situations she finds herself in, along with the ways this develop further. You'll get my Astarion Essay someday soon, but that's not for the here and now. Side note - I'm a smudge behind on the schedule posting so I'm going to get on to that some more soon I promise you that much~ This was a chapter that's important to the core of the characters and their interactions from here on. It would be irresponsible to disregard Astarion's character development through Act 2, where he expresses a wish to be less physical, but for the fic there is the opportunity to allow a different understanding between him and ATG's Tav. Negotiating and agreeing on things are part of any healthy relationship, whether open, closed, poly, or monogamous. This is their way of expressing their boundaries between each other, and trying something different for themselves. There's a foundation of love and trust, and always will be. Although many chapters will move away from Astarion from here, he is still important and the story will resolve for him, the book is merely a part of how that story plays out.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #a tav's guide #fanfic #angst #the angst and fluff chapter #negotiating relationships #honestly yes this is an excuse for Tav to go and ho it up across Faerun and beyond #but there is still heart and feeling #ATG will be back tomorrow with the next chapter

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spice-chan · 3 years

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Yandere incubus bakugou please? But the reader is a bad a** nun exorcist?

Heavenly

Incubus!Bakugou x nun!reader

Warnings: yandere themes, religious imagery, dub/noncon, somnophilia, praise kink, incubus bakugo, nsfw.

Wordcount: 2 K

You were new in the field, but nevertheless, the best. You approached your work with certain fierceness that bordered on unprofessional, unethical, given your field.

You were a nun, an exorcist meant to banish creatures like Bakugo Katsuki, unholy, sinful creatures like him.

Ones who bathed in wrong doings, encouraged misbehaviours, got off and energised at the feel of being the cause of someone sinning.

Bakugo watched you, clad in white attire and bright eyes that seemed so honest, so pure, that they seemed almost translucent. Katsuki doesn’t belong in heaven, but he thinks it must look something like your eyes.

A creature like him shouldn’t hover in a place like this. A creature so devilish isn’t welcomed in God’s abode, isn’t worthy of staring at crucifixes, nor worthy of salvation. But most importantly, what right does a wretched being like him have to stare reverently at a blessed being like you.

Though, the both of you have some things in common, he mused. You were so fiery, that some of your elders seemed stiff at the sight of you, though what sort of stiff is ambiguous. You were so ambitious, rising up the ranks so quickly, his good girl.

Fuck, how did he grow so enamored with you? The only reason he can even enter the premises of your church is because he hasn’t come of age yet, hasn’t reached his full potential as an incubus, but a few days from now, he will take his first victim.

He will lay with someone, take them and become the creature of lust that he was meant to be, become the tainted person you preach against. He wishes it could be you, wishes he can take you and break your vows, give you a taste of the sweetness of the apple, get you addicted to the taste of debauchery, wishes he can taste your sweetness.

You had so much restraint, on lonely nights where you rubbed your thighs in need, slick starting to dampen your panties, Katsuki watching in anticipation, wondering whether today will be the day you please yourself painfully unaware of your audience. Leaving him with raging hopes that today will be the day you will be pliant enough to be taken by him but no, no, you just took a deep breath and opted for a cold shower, leaving him with a raging hard on that he had no choice but to stroke to your sleeping form.

You were so fragile too, like glass that he felt protective over, despite how foreign that feeling is to him, yet wanting to shatter you all the same, wanting to cage you with his wings, get you addicted to the delightful feeling he can induce between your thighs while your throat goes raw from moans and screams of his name.

He stalked you religiously, memorised you like the pope memorised the bible, his form which is invisible to you hovered around you like a lost puppy, drinking in all your expressions like ambrosia, his mouth overflowing with saliva at the sweet nectar you kept offering and offering to the point where he’s gotten too addicted to stop.

He glowered at every male that interacts with you, and if the wrong scent emanates from them, something to slightly suggest attraction, you can bet they greet death too early, the cause being a mystery. He enjoys mangling them all night long, only to put them back together and repeat the process. No one stares at his human like she’s theirs, when she's so woefully his. Although she doesn’t know it yet.

But his coming of age ceremony grows closer and closer, and Katsuki won’t be able to enter your premises anymore, his awakening means he also won’t be able to take you for that very ceremony, and perhaps never.

So, Bakugo started thinking smart. Using his influence, he gathered the most intense, the most powerful demons and made them inhibit people from a nearby village. A case severe enough that you’d have to leave in aid of those people. And stay for a few days.

Painfully predictable, you did just that. Donning your outfit and leaving swiftly. Not knowing what dark fate awaits you.

…………

Bakugou stood at the corner of the inn room you are staying in. You were so exhausted, you passed out as soon as you hit the mattress. Now, without the protective walls shielding you from him, your soft body will be all pliant for him. His body shook, the changes to it happening too rapidly. His wings are growing larger, bolder, and aside of the external changes, his scent was becoming more soft, relaxing, his body emitting pheromones that could easily induce lust. His saliva and touch will have a multiplied effect now that he’s reached his peak form. All that’s left now is to make love to a human, to make love to you.

He stepped closer to you, the room looking darker with each step he took, and your form appearing more and more defenceless to the enamored incubus before you.

He slowly took the blanket off you, admiring the slopes of your body in the form fitting night dress that you only adorned in the comfort of your room. He covered your body with his large one, covering you and his heat acting as a blanket, shielding you from the nipping cold. He took your sprawled arms, slowly putting them over your head and holding them in place with one hand while his other lowered the strap on your dress, freeing one breast to caress while his mouth pressed a feather light kiss over your own, so tender it was akin to a lover's touch.

You stirred in your sleep, his touch having the desired effect as you remained in slumber… his sleeping beauty. He kept kissing his way down, like a mad deprived of water for weeks finally getting to quench his thirst.

His wings lowered, shielding you from the moon light as he laved you up in his saliva, exposing your tits only to lay kisses on them before sucking harshly, pulling, tugging until they pebbled up. He squeezed the warm flesh, marvelling at the baby soft skin and its texture in his calloused palm.

Heh, if you were awake, you’d freak out so bad. Katsuki didn’t stop, he continued his journey downwards, kissing over every inch until he reached the heaven between your thighs.

He can smell it, God, he can smell the arousal coating your plain white panties. He moved his apart, movements stilling in the face of your womanhood, suddenly blushing and feeling nervousness enter his stream. He swallowed, pink tongue poking out of his tongue slowly and drawing a path from your slit to your clit. Feeling satisfied at your muscles spasming. He got cocky real quick after that, not even attempting to conceal the raunchy sounds of his mouth wrapping around your clit and eating it as if drinking from a straw.

You were the sweetest delicacy he’d ever tasted, and he’d be damned if he ever lets go of you.

His finger slipped inside you, feeling your walls sucking it in, tightness befitting of a nun. A second finger joined, your walls happily sucking it in and coating his fingers in slick. They moved in and out, thick fingers hitting sensitive spots and stretching you out in preparation for something bigger.

His hips were rutting into the bed, trying to alleviate the ache while his tongue goes for a final taste, the slickened muscle burying itself inside you and moaning. The room was filled with slurping sounds, tiny moans from your sleeping figure and his hips rutting into your mattress; anyone who stood outside your door for a second longer than necessary can tell what’s happening in the nun's room.

He can’t take this anymore. You were here now, pliant for the taking and he was going to take you. He’s going to take you in many many ways.

He freed his manhood, but before he can bury himself in you, he had to do something. He pulled out a shiny object, pulling your hand and slipping it into your finger. Now, the fun can begin.

He lined himself with your begging hole, desperate for something to fill it up after it was so delightfully full, after having its owner deprive it for so long.

With a moan, he quickly bottomed out, eyes watering at the pleasure, having to hold himself back from cumming on the spot as he groaned. Your greedy walls drank him in, welcoming him warmly as if he’s a soldier returning from war, as if hellfire wasn’t hot enough.

He put one of your legs above his shoulder, silently questioning whether he should go at the pace he’s going to, whether he should take you gently the way your body should be taken after years of abstinence. But one clench of your walls and the decision was made for him.

He started pistoning into you mercilessly, his gifted length not sparing you in the slightest. He was so loud too, moaning at the feeling of being one with you, slobbering like a dog as he pounded you, his tip reaching and massaging places you probably didn’t even know existed. Really, with how loud he was, he shouldn’t have been surprised when you woke up.

You squealed, in pleasure or repulsion, trying to push him away, however the pleasurable sheen in your eyes was unmissable to the avatar of lust.

“Ah—who are y-you?! You devil!” You kept stuttering, words breaking as he forcefully pounded the pleasure into you.

“Don’t ask if you already know, princess.” He pumped more pheromones in the air, successfully making you more docile as you gripped his humongous biceps, hands not even close to wrapping around the circumference of it, moaning and clenching around his member.

“Good girl.” He smirked as his statement made you clench even more, so his princess likes being praised.

Your moans were raw and throaty, as if unused to letting out such sinful and suggestive sounds, as if unwilling but painfully desperate to.

“But, if you’re so desperate to know, look at your hand.”

Your eyes glanced up, hazily making out a golden band resting on your ring finger. It had a red amber on it, its colour so red it was darker and bolder then the liquid spilled in a blood oath, it signified something that your foggy brain just couldn’t make out.

“Hmm, already fucked you silly?”

You grumbled something out, a protest too low to be considered a threat. His hand reached out and started rubbing circles on your button, causing an adorable mewl to leave your lips. His thumb kept up the movement until he felt your overly sensitive walls choking his length, gripping him so hard that his fucking falters. You really hadn’t touched yourself in a long time huh.

Some of the spit gathered in his mouth escaped, coating you as his tongue left his mouth lewdly, cheeks flushed an apple red while his eyes watered at the weight of doings. He pounded you so hard after that he reached ecstasy in a minute, not holding the handles on his pleasure any longer, only relishing in the intimate moment as he reached heaven with you. His movements were so passionate, it was as if he was seeking salvation for his very existence in your body.

He pulled out with a grunt, heart panging at the look in your eyes. You stared in horror at the white gushing out of you, so far from pure or holy, it was thick like the sin you allowed yourself to indulge in.

Tears soaked up your face, unable to believe that you of all people got taken by this god forsaken creature, by this tempting creature that symbolizes sin itself. His fingers had the audacity to reach for your face, trying to wipe away the tears he caused. Your hand went to harahly swat his before a red glint caught your eye, your gut sinking at the implication. You swiftly went to remove it, but the harder you tried the more it seemed to cling to your finger.

“What’s this?!” He rolled his eyes at you, before pointing at the ring in your ring finger.

“This-“ his intense, bloody gaze shifted to you”-this will make sure that wherever you go, I will be able to follow you, that we will belong to each other for eternity, because I, the incubus prince Katsuki Bakugou chose you as my mate, and there’s no way out if that.”

#incubus #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katsuki fanfics #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha bakugou #yandere bakugou #bnha imagines #tw: noncon #tw dubcon #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bnha #yandere katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugou

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cakers-2000 · 3 years

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Oop here's my first piece for the first day of the Konoha Simps anniversary server collab!

A piece written just for the lovely Xiao with the theme, fluff!

I hope you all enjoy.

Happy one year!!!

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Word Count: 1.1k

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As an adeptus Xiao didn’t need sleep. Many of his nights were spent sitting on the roof of the Wangshu Inn, staring up at the beautiful gleam of the moon resting in the sky. There was always a lovely breeze atop the building and Xiao always reveled in just the feeling of being by his lonesome. Tonight was the same as any other for the adeptus. He had enjoyed some Almond Tofu prepared specially for him by Verr Goldet and then made his way to that special spot near the roof to admire the glorious glow of the night.

There were many times where he did indeed forget that Wangshu Inn was, in fact, an inn. The sounds of the customers and other tenants for the night would startle him out of his stupor but only for a moment. He’d sit on edge. Momentarily panicking as he believed his spot to be revealed but it would shrink away as many times it was just a small child or young adult clamoring out of their rooms for a quick moment, leaving him completely unnoticed and alone with himself.

That is all but one.

You had never really learned how to leave the poor boy alone.

Tonight he had found a particularly bright star shining in the sky. Something about it had grabbed his attention. He was fixated on the bright light, eyes shining right back at the ball of gas. He was off in his own world. He hadn’t even heard the sound of feet behind him.

The only thing that brought him back to reality was the feeling of his sleeve being gingerly tugged backwards. He slightly jumped as the tug was followed by something pressing right up against the upper half of his back.

Though his breathing had become rather rapid from their scare it slowed again when he took in the familiar scent. You had always smelled the same. Perhaps it was your shampoo, or perhaps it was just natural. Either way it was a dead giveaway and he was able to calm his tense muscles and close his eyes.

“It’s late.”

One of your eyebrows slightly raised as you heard him speak. Was that… concern in his voice? Was the adeptus Xiao showing you some kind of compassion?

Your voice was muffled as you spoke against his shirt. “I can’t sleep. Can you come sleep with me tonight?”

He snapped his eyes open and crossed his arms over his chest. A small ‘tsk’ sound escaped his throat before he spoke. “You dumb humans have no respect for the ways of the Adepti. We don’t sleep.”

You slightly tilted your head to the side and moved your hands to wrap around his waist. He stared down at your hands, trying his best to conceal his emotions. “You don’t sleep because you don’t have to. But that doesn’t mean you can’t. Besides,” You nuzzled your face into him and let out a small sigh before continuing. “I had a nightmare.”

Another ‘tsk’ sound left him before he placed his hands on top of your own. He took them from around his waist and instead intertwined your fingers with his own. Although Xiao wasn’t one for intimacy he could make some small exceptions. “A nightmare huh?” He flipped your hands over so that he could stare at the top of your hand, fixated on your rather small fingers. He had been enjoying the stargazing but if your nightmare had really been that bad perhaps he could skip it for one night.

“I won’t sleep with you,” A small pout covered your features and a rather loud whine left your throat as he spoke to show your displeasure with him. He let out an ‘ugh’ sound and unwrapped your arms from around him and turned to face you, arms once again crossed over his chest. “(Y/N) enough. You didn’t even let me finish.”

You were quick to stop whining thanks to the stern tone in his voice. “As I was saying, I won’t sleep with you but,” His eyes met with yours and a small smile finally managed to crack through the corner of his lips as his hand fell to caress your cheek. “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. Fair?”

You knew this was as best you were going to get from him and quickly nodded before he changed his mind. “Fair, fair.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

He always forgot just how soft bed sheets were. He didn’t need sleep, but he could potentially see himself falling fast asleep wrapped in the warm embrace of your blankets. It had been a long, long time since he had last ‘slept’.

He slowly leaned his back onto the headboard and awaited your arrival. Slowly you stepped out of the bathroom connected to your room and slunk your way back under the soft covers. You lifted them in the air as an invitation for him to join you but all the boy did was stare back.

“Come on. It’s warm under here.”

He rolled his eyes as you patted the spot underneath before reluctantly sliding his way under the blankets with you. A small giddy laugh of joy left you before you practically latched onto him much like a koala to a tree. A small noise of astonishment left him as he wasn’t expecting your swift movement or the rather urgent way your hands gripped around his waist.

You were already feeling your eyelids droop. You were so tired. He hesitated for a brief moment before he finally rested his arm loosely around your waist. You scooted your way closer to him so as to press your face against his chest and let out a small ‘hmm’ of satisfaction. His embrace was warm and inviting. You could feel the overwhelming sense of safety and security emanating from him.

“I love you Xiao… Thank you.”

He stared at you for a moment before his free hand found its way to your hair. His fingers entangled with the soft locks and once again a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Though your eyes were closed you could feel his lips press a quick kiss to the top of your head. “I love you…”

The feeling of him playing with your hair was soothing and you were lulled into a comfortable sleep. Unbeknownst to you Xiao himself followed a few minutes after. The warm feeling of your body pressed against his own was enough to send him into a blissful sleep.

Perhaps an Adeptus could partake in human activities every once in a while.

#xiao genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao scenarios #xiao fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenario #genshin impact fluff

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mintymiknow · 3 years

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Trust Fall - ch. 14 | Lee Minho

summary | character profiles | masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Reader

Summary: After an eventful evening, you and Minho return to HQ to continue making progress on the case with the other agents. While things are starting to fall into place and answers are found, feelings seem much clearer now as well.

Genre: Secret agent/spy au, romance, angst, action

Word count: Approx. 6.9k

Warnings for this chapter: Death is talked about (but no actual death scenes), suggestive and highly implied content, the word “sex” is used (but nothing explicit or nsfw; I still kept things PG hehe)

A/N: After a loooong wait, here it is! I just checked my outline and realized that I’ve managed to shorten things by putting several chapters together so...I guess the series is ending soon! For now, I hope you enjoy this chapter with some...spicier content for our main couple (spicy but not explicit haha, don’t worry!). Have fun, and don’t hesitate to drop an ask for any questions or comments!

Last night’s sleep was good. Perfect. Much needed.

In the new hours of another day, your head still lay on the pillow, body wrapped up snuggly in the soft sheets as sunlight gently peeked through the closed curtains. It was quite chilly, but there was also a distinct warmth swirling about, making your slumber even better. Your breathing was even, and your mind at rest for once.

And, there were arms around you.

Minho awoke first, his body much more used to getting up at early hours. His eyes slowly peeled open, immediately landing on your sleep-filled expression. Upon hearing the soft snores puffing out of you, the male chuckles to himself - as quietly as possible - and scoots ever so closer, wrapping his arms around you tighter. You mumble something incoherent, making him smile in amusement.

He could stare all day.

The soft and tranquil expression on your face was something he wanted to relish in. Seeing you in constant stress and anguish throughout your time working with them has made him quite upset, so seeing you in a better state surely melted his heart.

It was unexplainable…the way he wanted to protect and keep you safe. To care for you. To make sure you were happy and satisfied. To love you, perhaps.

He did love Jiyeon, but the feeling bubbling in him towards you was something else, and whatever he had for Jiyeon could not compare to what he now has for you. The thought makes his lips quirk up into a small smirk, and he finds himself whispering to himself, “Look at what you’re doing to me, y/n.”

Minho places a chaste kiss on your forehead before carefully untangling himself from you. The male tries his best to not wake you as he slips out of bed and heads for the bathroom to freshen up. He decides to take his time to give you as much sleep as you needed, even silently going out to the inn lobby to grab a snack. There, Agent Ju greets him with a smile, “Good morning, Agent Lee. I hope you and Miss Song are feeling better.”

“Morning.” Minho smiles back, nodding his head once, “Yeah, much better. Thank you.”

Agent Ju nods her head before leaning against the receptionist’s table, “Well, if you and Miss Song are heading back to Seoul, I can arrange for HQ to send a car over.”

“It’s fine. We came by bus and we’ll go back the same way.” Minho says politely, “Thank you for the help, though.”

“Anytime.” Agent Ju laughs.

Minho then nods his head in permission before making his leave to return to the room you shared in the inn. When he unlocks the door, he’s not surprised to see you still fast asleep, now hugging the pillow he was laying on previously. With an amused shake of his head, the agent walks over to you and sits on the edge of the bed. As much as he treasured seeing you at peace like this, you both had to return to HQ.

The male gently shakes your sleeping figure, “Y/n, time to get up.”

You mumble yet another string of incoherent words, releasing a deep breath as you toss and turn in an attempt to stop the agent from shaking you awake. With a laugh, Minho gently crawls closer to lean over you, peppering your unguarded face with feathery kisses. His quick attacks are tickling, causing you to giggle; ultimately, you open your eyes after a squeal escapes your lips as a result of Minho nibbling at your earlobe.

The male laughs at your glare, “Hey, sleepyhead.”

Your glare melts into a small albeit sleepy smile as you respond, “I’m surprised you aren’t sleepy.”

“I’m used to this.” Minho chuckles, taking your hands in his so he could pull you to sit up. The right sleeve of the robe you had worn last night had slipped down to the middle of your upper arm, so Minho gently pulls it back to its place over your shoulder and offers a small smile, “Do you want to freshen up before getting dressed?”

“Yeah, ok.” you say, leaning forward to rest your head on Minho’s shoulder.

The male chuckles softly, allowing you to stay in that position for another minute or so. Afterwards, you take a good stretch and get up from the bed, making a beeline to the bathroom while Minho gathers both your things ready for leaving. After you’re both ready to leave, you gather your things and head to the inn’s main desk to say your thanks to Agent Ju. The woman bows her head and waves with a smile, “Take care, you two.”

You and Minho give her a smile before walking out of the inn. Thankfully, the wait at the bus stop isn’t that long, and a few minutes later, you’re both seated towards the back and are on the way back to Seoul. Minho allows you to sit next to the window, allowing you to watch the scenery as the bus drives by. The sun basks you in enough sunlight, but still mild enough to not make it hot or too bright. Minho sneaks a glance, resisting the urge to claim your lips in his as you preoccupy yourself with the said scenery. Instead, he gently slips his hand with yours, intertwining your fingers like lace.

This prompts you to look away from the window, eyes now focused on him. You crack a smile and chuckle, “Sorry, I dazed off.”

“It’s alright.” Minho smiles, squeezing your hand, “You can sleep until we get to Seoul if you want.”

You shake your head, leaning it on Minho’s shoulder afterwards, “I’m fine, I got enough sleep. I do want…” you trail off, using your free hand to draw patterns on the male’s hand that is clasped around yours, “...to hear your story when meeting the other boys.”

“Hmm?”

“I told you about how I met Hyejoo...and Hyunbin.” you slowly explain, “And you told me about how you met Chan and Jiyeon. How about the other boys?”

Minho chuckles, nodding his head in amusement, “Alright then.”

You let out a quiet “yay”, prompting another chuckle from the male. He then speaks, “Chan was my superior for a while, right? Well, after he convinced Jung to ‘elevate’ me into a more senior agent, Changbin came in, and Chan and I sort of became his superior and trainer until we became a team - not counting Jiyeon, since you know her story. Hyunjin came in a month after Changbin, and the two of us got along pretty well, so our team compositions would rotate between us four.”

“Surprisingly,” Minho chuckles, “Jisung and Seungmin were already in SKZ before I entered. They’re younger, yeah, but they finished college early for their age and started working in SKZ after some recommendations from science and medical professionals who got to see their skills. Jisung wasn’t ‘head’ of the lab department at that time, but he was a well-respected figure. So was Seungmin. I remember becoming friends with them because Jisung spilled coffee on me in the cafeteria, and he wouldn’t stop fussing even after I told him it was fine. Seungmin had the audacity to laugh at the situation, but I found it funny as well.”

A small yet warm smile forms on your lips as you stifle a laugh, “That sounds like a very normal occurrence in your group of friends. And Jeongin?”

Minho shrugs gently, a smile on his face as well, “He was the last to join, but he was usually assigned to team with me, so we bonded pretty well. You could say I taught him almost everything he knows.”

“Hmm.” you hum in a teasing manner, “Jeongin does remind me of a mini-you...or something like that.”

Minho chuckles at this, his lips curling with an amused quirk, “Until he actually becomes better than all of us. He has a lot of potential.”

“Imagine that.” you laugh.

The next few minutes or hour spent in your journey back to HQ is filled with idle chatter and light-hearted conversations about more personal things, such as non-work related hobbies and interests, life as teenagers or kids before, and a random game of 20 questions - all while holding each other’s hands and leaning against each other. Some people on the bus murmured that you and Minho were a lovely couple, and one old lady flashed a warm smile and said something along the lines of “I wish you both a long and lasting relationship”.

Of course, that caused you to burn like a tomato. Minho was calmer, nodding in acknowledgement and thanking the old lady; either he was playing yet another disguise of being a couple, or he actually did think you were a couple.

Were you?

What were you two to each other anyway?

You’ve showered together, slept in one bed, kissed, hugged - everything a couple would do. Something friends would do? No, you didn’t think friends kissed the way you did back at the inn. So...what were you?

There was an unnamed label or string between you and Minho, but perhaps deciphering that could wait until another time - when both your missions were over with.

For now, you were at peace knowing that the person who tore down your defensive and heavily-guarded wall was none other than Minho.

Once you and Minho arrive back at HQ, you both head straight to the labs where Jisung and Seungmin are already working. “Hey, welcome back.” Jisung flashes a grin, “How was the trip?”

“Some...bumps along the way, but…” Minho puts the case on one of the lab tables and explains, “Here are the samples you need to continue testing.”

Seungmin nods and gathers the various bottles and vials, “Well then, we shouldn’t waste any time on this.”

Minho nods his head, “I’m going to meet with the other agents to update them. I’ll call if Jung wants to schedule a briefing session.”

“Alright.” Jisung flashes a smile.

You nod in response, a small smile on your lips, “I’ll help Jisung and Seungmin.”

The eldest male nods before offering a smile at all three of you, turning on his heel to then make his exit. Once he’s out of the room, Jisung swirls around to flash a cheeky grin at you, “Something must have happened in that trip.”

“What are you talking about?” you question, trying to remain calm while helping Seungmin begin the tests and experiments.

Jisung chuckles, “I don’t know. It’s like...there’s been a shift between you and Minho. In a good way.”

“They probably confessed and made love or something.” Seungmin joins in the teasing, a rather funny contrast to how serious he was with the test tube in his hand.

“That did not happen!” you protest, quickly grabbing your own test tube and a vial, “We just...talked.”

“Yeah, right.” Jisung laughs as he conducts his own experiments now, “At least say you kissed.”

“That…” you trail off with a small pout, “...is confidential.”

“So you did.”

“Quiet, Seungmin.”

The next few hours are spent with the three of you conducting more tests and experiments to confirm or support your theories and other data. Thankfully, whatever results were being yielded were indeed looking towards the bright side. Although...Jisung did nearly spill his coffee into one of Seungmin’s lab flasks. Fortunately, the doctor was quick to react; who knew what would have happened if caffeine was mixed with these dangerous substances.

By now, the three of you were seated in one of the lab offices, going through sheets of paper with results and scribbled-down notes and citations while discussing all possible outcomes and solutions. Then, as somewhat expected, Minho called in, explaining that Jung wanted to meet with the team for a quick briefing of all current findings. With that, the three of you gathered your things and headed for the main building, footsteps quick as you made your way to the meeting rooms.

The other agents and Jung are already inside when you, Jisung and Seungmin enter the room. Chan, as usual, greets with a warm smile and nod of his head. Changbin mirrors the action, and Hyunjin gives off a playful salute. Felix and Jeongin aren’t there at the moment, probably still on break or something of the like. Jisung takes a seat next to Hyunjin, and Seungmin takes a seat next to Changbin while you settle down between Chan and Minho.

Jung clears his throat to start the session, “Alright, so, what do we have so far?”

Chan speaks first, fingers lightly drumming against the table, “At the culminating point, all investigations and intel have led to one definite finding. Cle is ready with their prototype serums, and by ready, we mean that intel tells us they are ready to start transacting and trading with other parties.”

“Hmm, I see.” Jung nods, “And how is our side responding to this?”

“Various teams have managed to dismantle various Cle facilities.” Minho begins, “This would either hinder their process by getting rid of their stocks for transactions, or getting these stocks for our own use; for the lab department to come up with a solution.”

“And how is the lab department?” the head of SKZ turns to you, Jisung and Seungmin.

You slowly piece your thoughts together, stringing the right words carefully. “I’ve...we’ve come up with a temporary solution. It’s...far from perfect, but all the tests we’ve performed with it have worked so far.” you answer, “I wouldn’t call it complete and functional though.”

Jung nods his head once more, “Do you think it’s safe to say that we can utilize this now? So that we can interfere with whatever trades and transactions Cle has in store?”

“I…” you look around the room before gulping, “No. I think we should still observe and test it out a few more times.”

“How long ago did you come up with the solution? Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Jung questions, “We could have made more progress earlier.”

You look away, shaking your head, “It’s science, sir. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to be 100% certain the solution was effective. Even now, I’m not 100% certain. Jisung, Seungmin and I are still working to see how credible it is.”

Minho nods his head as if agreeing with you, “It might have been risky if they weren’t completely sure that their solution would be effective. We can’t afford any mistakes on this.”

“I agree.” Jung clasps his hands together, “Good to know that everyone’s efforts paid off. Do you think the lab team can develop several stocks of that solution any time soon, Dr. Song?”

“We’ll do our best to finalize things.” you answer quickly, “Then we’ll see what capacity we can do to produce a large volume.”

“Very well.” Jung nods definitively, “I wish everyone the best of luck. Meeting dismissed. Good luck on your respective tasks.”

Jung is the first to exit the room as soon as his phone rings. Chan leans back on his seat and props his feet up on the table, “So...Minho says you actually have completed the solution, y/n.”

“I...sort of have.” you confirm, “I just want to be more sure of it. There’s no room for a single percentage of failure in things like this.”

Changbin hums, crossing his arms, “Good thing the teams were able to bring back a lot of Cle serums for that then.”

“The power of science huh.” Hyunjin spins his chair around, “Amazing what you can do in a lab.”

Chan chuckles at the long-haired male’s comment before his expression softens and he sits down properly. With a tilt of his head, Chan says, “Sorry to change the topic but...Minho did tell us about what happened in that small clinic with your friend and all...I’m sorry. How are you?”

You offer a small smile and shrug, “It still hasn’t fully sunk in, but...I’ll be ok.”

Hyunjin has an apologetic expression on his face as he speaks with a soft voice, “Well, whatever it is, we’re your friends now, alright? You got us.”

“I know, thank you.” you flash another genuine smile.

“What else happened back there?” Changbin inquires, his playful smile displaying his attempt to lighten the situation.

“Well...Minho told me about Jiyeon and how he met all of you.”

Chan looks at his friend with raised eyebrows and chuckles, “Did he now? That’s interesting. Minho doesn’t like talking about her.”

Minho playfully shoves Chan’s teasing face away from him and rolls his eyes, “She’s bound to find out anyway. I’m sure Jisung and Seungmin would have told her one of these days.”

“Hey!” Jisung protests, “I would not have done so without your permission.”

“You just agreed that you would have told y/n either way...just with Minho’s permission.” Seungmin laughs.

Jisung puffs his cheeks out, causing the other males to chuckle in amusement. You find yourself smiling at the situation too; having a circle of friends who managed to smile despite the existence of problems wasn’t something you were used to after all. Maybe dropping your walls wasn’t such a bad idea as long as it was these boys.

Soon, Changbin playfully salutes before getting up from his seat and laughing, “I’ll excuse myself first. I haven’t gotten any sleep since my last mission.”

Minho nods, “Sleep well.”

The buff agent smiles before making his leave. Hyunjin follows suit, stretching his tall figure as he stands, “And I will look for Jeongin to bug him...he owes me coffee.”

“Well, that’s my cue too.” Jisung hops up, “Felix and I are off to that new pizza place.”

The two males then wave and say goodbye before exiting the room. Chan looks at you and the remaining agents and asks, “And you guys?”

Seungmin stifles a yawn, “I think I’ll copy Changbin. I need some sleep...maybe just nap.”

“I’m not sure yet.” you answer next, shrugging your shoulders as you pout your lips in thought.

When Minho remains silent, eyes looking at Chan with some sort of bro-code message, the eldest agent chuckles softly. “Alright, you should all get some rest. If you need me, I’ll probably be snacking in the lounge.” Chan states before getting up.

With that, he and Seungmin leave the room, leaving you alone with Minho. The silence doesn’t last long for as soon as Minho turns to face you, you offer a small smile. and say, “Do you have a moment?”

Minho looks taken by surprise at first but eventually recovers with ease. “Sure.” he nods in response.

You both then leave the meeting room together, some sort of unspoken agreement to walk towards the living quarters. A few minutes later, you find yourselves in one of the rooftop decks of the living quarters’ building, the expanse of the sky greeting you. You walk over to the railing, leaning slightly to admire the view as a gentle breeze idly blows around. Minho joins in, falling into step right beside you as he props an elbow on the railing.

“Is something wrong?” he quietly asks, eyes intently studying your features.

“How…” you begin to say, but a sudden wave of emotions causes you to press your lips in a tight, flat line.

Your eyes dart to the floor a bit shakily, and Minho is instantly aware of whatever internal struggle you’re battling with. He then takes the initiative to help you, slowly reaching one hand out to intertwine your fingers together. While gently swaying your hands like a hammock, he smiles, “It’s ok.”

You give him a small smile in return, squeezing his hand in an expression of gratitude. Slowly, you manage to speak up again, “How do you get over witnessing death? Someone dying?”

Minho more than understands what your question meant - it was definitely about Hyunbin.

“You’re a doctor, y/n.” Minho starts slowly, “I’d assume death isn’t something new to you.”

At this, a small yet gloomy smile graces your lips as you reply, “I know. But the death I witness in hospitals is very different from the death...in that context.”

Minho stays quiet, analytical eyes still studying your behavior. You then add, “When a patient dies, it hurts, but we know it’s part of life - we can’t save everyone. I know that, and I’m accustomed to it. But when you...you witness someone dying in a much more gruesome way for intentions that are more twisted than you’d like...how do you forget about it?”

“You don’t.” Minho says flatly, a resigned sigh following after, “That’s just how it is. Hyunbin’s death will follow you for the rest of your life, y/n. I’d know because Jiyeon’s death did. You never really forget things like that once you’ve seen them. They have a way of sticking with you.”

“I see.”

“But…” the male trails off, using his other free hand to lift your chin so that your gazes met. He continues, “You can choose to wallow in despair and let that hold you back, or move past it and use it as a stepping stone to become stronger...better. They never leave you, but you can choose to focus on things that are living - things that actually matter.”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you look up at the male. The warm, orange hues of the setting sky paints Minho’s features with an ethereal glow, and his hair dances along with the breeze, making him look like a painting that has come to life - a very handsome, strong and smart painting. There’s a sharpness to Minho that is countered by elegance and refinement; he looks tired and worn-out yet is full of life and passion.

“You’re right.” you finally respond, “Thank you. Again.”

Without warning, Minho pulls you closer, circling his arms around your waist. As soon as you feel his arms around you, you nuzzle your face against his chest and take a deep, shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I’m being selfish like this.” you say quietly, “I’ve never had anyone to trust to this extent. It’s all...new.”

Minho chuckles, his voice low yet calm, “It’s alright, y/n. You’re not being selfish, don’t worry.”

You remain in each other’s arms for a few more seconds before Minho pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. “I know Hyunbin broke your trust,” he starts, “but I will never. I promise you that.”

“I know, Minho.” your gaze pierces his fiercely, “I know.”

You’re now both stuck in time, eyes trailing down to each other’s semi-parted lips, unmoving despite the breeze picking up. The sun sets much lower, painting the sky now a dusky shade of purple. You feel one of Minho’s hands reach up to your face, his knuckles gingerly grazing along your jaw; it sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, prompting a brief shiver.

“Minho…”

“I’ll be the selfish one right now.”

And it’s the last thing he says before closing whatever distance stood between you, sealing your lips with his own. It, however, isn’t just him that makes a move - you meet him halfway as well, very much wanting to be selfish and allowing yourself to indulge in something...more.

This kiss is slower and much calmer compared to the one you both shared in the inn the other night; that one was hungry, sudden and a bit rushed. This...this was much more intimate and deliberate as both you and Minho took the time to really relish and savor every glide and slide of your lips against each other. The way Minho kisses is gentle yet solid, patient yet passionate - it sends tingles in every fiber of your body as it does to his.

His right arm goes around your waist as his left hand braces the back of your neck to support it as he tilts your head back. You gasp out, arms flying up to coil around his neck. Your fingers play with the hair at the base of his nape as you allow the male entrance to kiss you deeper, melting in his hold as his tongue finds yours in a tango. It’s amazing - it feels amazing.

You’re 100% Minho has kissed many people, whether he meant it or not, but you...you’ve never. To experience such bliss and magic with a man like him was certainly something else, and it made you feel like no scientific or medical discovery could give you this ecstasy. It felt like with every second and every kiss, he took your worries away - your fears and ghosts away.

After a moment, you both pull apart for air, breaths labored as your foreheads rest against each other. Your face is extremely flushed as a tint of pink dusts Minho’s cheeks. The male’s lips curl into a small smile as he whispers, “Let me help you forget it all, y/n. Hyunbin, your past, your pain - everything.”

You nod and pull him closer to the point that not a single sliver of air could squeeze between your bodies. You kiss the tip of his nose and smile in response, “Please.”

And he kisses you again. And again. And again, until you’re both walking back down inside from the rooftop deck without a word, hand-in-hand as you take the elevators to the floor level of your room. Lips are on lips as soon as you enter your room, both of you hastily tumbling inside as the door shuts and the night creeps in.

But this time, you aren’t on your own.

You have someone to spend it with - physically and emotionally.

So when a moment of intimacy unfolds as the agent invades your space, you sigh contentedly. Every touch he administers, every kiss he plants, and every murmur of praise he utters fills you with not only pleasure but also the satisfaction and peace of knowing that Minho will handle you with care - that he won’t ruthlessly manipulate you like a doll but will instead hold you like porcelain ceramics - fragile yet priceless.

When a blanket of stars fills your eyes and a tingling heat explodes within you, you clutch at Minho’s back to draw him closer, feeling his warm skin against your own. You don’t even mind the sticky sweat between your bodies, refusing to let go of the male as if doing so would result in you being alone in the room once again. Like this with him, you feel like you’re home.

You feel the sheets comfortably pulled over both your bare and vulnerable bodies, and the male shifts around to gently lay beside you and pull you into his embrace. While you nuzzle against his chest, Minho traces small patterns down your spine as you both catch your breaths and come down from cloud 9. You feel safe.

But it’s when you feel him plant a soft kiss on your forehead and hear a hushed “I’m here” that you truly, truly feel a boulder lifted from your shoulders - from your heart, in fact.

Tonight, snuggly enveloped in Minho’s arms in the comfort of your bed, you fall asleep without fear of darkness suffocating you.

“Yeah, no.” Hyunjin snickers, “You two are definitely fuc - ”

“Hyunjin!” you hiss, waving your hands in front of the agent, “Don’t say that! That’s not what’s happening!”

The long-haired male rolls his eyes before smirking, “Let me see...you both have so much tension, look at each other with sweet gazes, Minho would kill to protect you, you showered together, kissed at the inn, slept in each other’s arms, made out yesterday, and slept with each other in your room again. You guys seem like great best friends then.”

“I’m not saying we aren’t more than friends, but that’s just it, isn’t it?” you start, “What...what are we? I don’t think we’re....romantically involved just yet. Flings?”

“Minho doesn’t do flings unless he’s undercover, y/n.” Hyunjin advises you with a smile, “Jiyeon was his last serious relationship before he vowed to never get attached to someone again. All the people he’s kissed, dated or slept with are for undercover purposes. So you gotta believe me when I say that he’s romantically and emotionally attached to you by now.”

You pout your lips and lean back on your chair, fingers fiddling with the stem of the cherry placed atop of the cake you ordered, “I’m...not even going to be with SKZ permanently. I’m...leaving after this case.”

Seungmin shrugs, his disposition collected and relaxed, “Then he’d just visit you off-duty hours. It’s going to be like some long-distance relationship. I doubt Minho’s going to let this be a temporary thing.”

“We can figure the technicalities out later. Did you and Minho perhaps...do anything more than sleep together recently? And I’m not talking about literally sleeping with each other.” Hyunjin wiggles his eyebrows.

You raise an eyebrow, “Why do you ask though?”

“I’m trying to assess the level of seriousness and attachment Minho has!” Hyunjin says a bit too seriously as if this were some sort of world-changing matter, “It’s crucial that I know this...as both your friends, after all.”

“Y/n, you were complaining about walking to this cafe instead of taking the bus, right?” Seungmin asks out of the blue.

“Yes, because as I said before we even left HQ, my legs have some sort of ache.”

Instant regret. Seungmin seems to put things together much quicker than you’d like, however. “Well, since you said Minho spent the night with you last night...and judging by how you have ‘leg ache’...yeah.”

“Oh!” Hyunjin gasps upon realizing the truth as well, “So you did have sex last night! Y/n!”

“Shhhh!” you hiss, cheeks now red and hot, “How are my legs hurting related to sex? You both haven’t considered that I’ve been running for my life each time I’m on a mission with you all!”

“For a doctor, you’re kinda dense.” Hyunjin teases.

You groan, shooting both males a glare before sipping your coffee, “I agreed to eat breakfast with you two so we could bond...not get interviewed about my relationship with Minho.”

Seungmin chuckles, his smile bright and happy, “Well, you could say that we just want Minho to...you know, be happy again. To be himself and not some agent hiding behind a stone wall of coldness. It’s apparent that he’s more himself with you.”

“But he’s himself with all of you too.” you point out.

Hyunjin nods, “Yeah, but that’s ‘cause we’re his closest friends. Other than us, Minho is either cold, apathetic or nonchalant. You’re technically part of his ‘close friends’ circle now, or maybe even more. You’ve managed to get him to get over that wall he built after Jiyeon.”

Seungmin laughs, “We’re not going to meddle. I guess what we’re just trying to get at is...be happy. Both you and Minho. Whatever happens, just...do what makes you happy.”

You offer a small smile to both males, “I’m...happy as long as you’re all happy and safe. Even after this case, I want you all to be happy and safe.”

“You have our word, y/n.”

“We promise.”

With that, the three of you shift your conversation to more friendly and light-hearted matters, laughing over breakfast platters and cakes and coffee. If this were a fictional novel, this was probably what the main character would be doing with her college best friends, living life as the sun shone above their peaceful city. And for now, you let yourself live out and play your little novel-like moment with Hyunjin and Seungmin.

The next few hours and days could change everything, after all.

Meanwhile, four agents drive to a high-end bar, dressed in suits and looking like expensive gentlemen. Once inside, one of the bouncers asks for their name. Chan, leading the group, replies, “Christopher.”

“Ah, very well.”

The bouncer then ushers the group to a private room in the back of the bar. Once he leaves them to be, the four males settle on the velvet couch and relax for a moment. Chan picks up the small menu on the glass coffee table and hums, “We’re technically off-duty, so might as well get something.”

“I like that.” Jisung chuckles from where he sits.

A few seconds later, a bartender enters the private room and takes down each male’s order before leaving to prepare the drinks. Minho leans back on the couch and crosses his arms, “He’s late huh…”

“Isn’t he always?” Changbin chuckles.

“Let’s enjoy the drinks while we wait.” Jisung grins, “We deserve it.”

“Agreed.” Chan laughs.

“Bet Hyunjin would have wanted to come with us here.” Changbin says.

Minho shrugs, “I mean, we did tell him. He just wanted to eat breakfast in a cafe today.”

“I think y/n’s with him and Seungmin.” Jisung adds, “Surprised you aren’t together right now.”

Minho smirks, “We were last night. She doesn’t have to be with me 24/7 you know? Y/n’s an independent woman.”

“Ok, yeah that’s true…” Changbin leans closer, “But back-track...you were with her last night?”

Minho shrugs casually, never missing a beat as he gives a knowing and very much suggestive wink. Chan gasps, holding in a laugh as he gently shoves Minho’s side. “Took you long enough to realize you love her!” the eldest male sighs in relief.

“Wait, you confessed?” Jisung and Changbin gasp simultaneously.

“Not exactly.” Minho clarifies, “But…I’d like to think I made my feelings and intentions clear...well, clearer.”

“And how exactly did you do that?” Changbin raises an eyebrow curiously.

Just then, the bartender knocks on the door again, opening it shortly after. The agents allow him to finish serving their respective drinks and make his leave before continuing their conversation. With the bartender gone, Minho grabs his cocktail glass and takes a sip before clearing his throat, “I kissed her.”

“No offense,” Jisung starts with a cheeky grin, “but y/n is not going to understand your feelings with a kiss. She’s super smart, yeah, but she’s denser than you are. She’s just going to think you’re showing her care or something.”

“True.” Minho starts slowly, calculating his next choice of words after another sip, “We also...kind of...did it last night.”

Changbin nearly chokes on his drink while Jisung chugs his in one go. Chan, on the other hand, sips his drink with a knowing smile. “Yeah, I’m sure she knows how you feel now. Impossible to miss the hints and signs if you had sex with someone as…distrusting as both of you are towards others.” the eldest male notes.

“Exactly. I’m sure y/n knows I don’t...do relationships.” Minho says.

Changbin smiles like a proud friend, “But you do know that you’re both going to have to properly and officially talk about...whatever you have going on between you two, right?”

“I know.” Minho shrugs, “I’ll address it after this case.”

“Good enough.” Jisung places his empty glass on the table.

A few minutes later, the door opens to reveal another man in a suit, greeting the four agents with a warm smile and a quick wave. Chan stands first, followed by the other three. They bow in respect before the eldest agent speaks, “Sir.”

The man chuckles and gestures for the agents to return to their seats. With a casual tone, the man speaks as well, “I see you already got some drinks.”

Chan lightly chuckles, “Would you like to order something, sir?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” the man responds with a smile before settling down on the empty space on the couch, “Just had coffee. Now, shall we?”

“Alright.” Chan starts, “Dr. Song has reported that she and her team are nearly finished with the solution against Cle’s serum. However, the truth is, she actually is finished with it.”

“So, in the briefing session you all recently had, she did not disclose this?” the man asks out of curiosity.

Minho speaks up next, leaning forward, “Dr. Song’s a very wary person; she doesn’t really feel comfortable telling people certain things. The only people who know the solution is actually complete are me, Chan, and well...our friends. Now, you.”

“I see. I believe it’s best if we keep it that way until Jung mobilizes teams to interfere with Cle business.” the man explains, “I suggest that Dr. Song and you all keep it a secret until we actually get a move on Cle.”

Changbin adds, “Sir, our latest intel suggests that Cle will start transacting with other parties very soon.”

The man nods, “I see. Well, if that’s the case, once we confirm a date or receive concrete data that a transaction is actually taking place, Dr. Song can reveal that the solution is complete. Agent Han, have you and Dr. Song produced an ample amount of solution?”

Jisung thinks for a second before turning his eyes to the man and answering, “Right now, we have about...three to four vials ready. Seungmin, Dr. Song and I are going to make more today and in the next few days. We hope to have more than 50 by then.”

“That’s more than enough for now.” the man smiles reassuringly, “Well, so far so good. Everything seems to be good for now. I guess that’s it. I’ll just remind you boys to be careful and wary the next few days since...as you mentioned, some Cle activity may take place.”

“Yes, sir.” the four agents nod.

A few minutes later, the man says goodbye and makes his leave, leaving the four younger males in the private room. Changbin looks to Chan and says, “I seriously can’t wait for this case to be over.”

“Same.” Jisung sighs as he slumps back on the couch.

“I do too…” Chan trails off before his serious expression turns into something more playful, “...but that would also mean y/n will leave and return to Gongjak. Guess who’s going to be sad?”

Minho doesn’t hear. Or at least, he pretends to not hear. The faint shade of pink on his cheeks betrays him, and the three other agents with him can tell that he heard Chan’s teasing. Minho looks up from his phone, trying his best to keep his expression neutral. “I’m not going to be sad. As I said, y/n’s an independent woman. She’s an adult with her own life.” he says.

Jisung pouts, “But you love her.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she has to stay.” Minho points out with a shrug, “If she chooses to leave, then she leaves.”

Chan offers a small smile before standing up, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, why don’t we drop by the cafe Hyunjin and Seungmin brought her to? Might as well have a little rest time before we get back to work.”

Changbin is quick to his feet, “Yeah, I’ve been craving that bacon and egg sandwich for a while now. Let’s go.”

And that was how your group ended up in the cafe where Wooyoung worked, your group of three now joined with another four agents. Wooyoung amusedly transferred your group to an area with a larger table as he served the newcomers’ drinks, allowing everyone to be more comfortable. On one end, Chan, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jisung sat next to each other. On the other end, it was you, Changbin and Minho.

While everyone was enjoying their food and coffee, Chan looks across the table, eyes flitting between you and Minho. You’re the first one to notice his gaze as Minho was too busy talking to Hyunjin and Jisung about the cake they were eating. You tilt your head at the older agent as if to ask if there was something wrong.

“How was last night?” he asks, the mischievous glint in his eyes now more visible.

Your brain goes into overdrive as your cheeks flush with color instantly. You gasp, staring at the agent with a flustered expression, “You!”

This causes Chan to laugh, catching the attention of the other agents. Minho looks at Chan before turning his attention to you, and instantly, he catches your eye when you turn to face him. Like magnets, you refuse to break eye contact, to the point that Jisung coughs a very not-so-subtle “get a room oh wait they already did”.

With a smirk, Minho leans forward to kiss your cheek before turning to Chan, “She thinks it was very good, don’t worry.”

“Minho!” you slap his arm before turning to Seungmin for assistance; however, the doctor just smiles and shrugs as if the green tea cake he was eating needed more attention.

Changbin stifles a laugh, “Not gonna lie, you’re both so cute. Perfect for each other.”

“Agreed.” Hyunjin sips his americano, “Such a lovely couple.”

“Well, there goes my peaceful morning.” you grumble, playing with the fork near your plate.

Despite your words, a small smile forms on your lips as the other boys giggle and get giddy over whatever you and Minho have going on. A small smile forms on your lips when you feel Minho’s hand clasping around yours from under the table.

“To be fair, your morning was going to be far from peaceful if you woke up naked next to a similarly naked Minho.” Jisung jokes.

“Eat your cheesecake, Han Jisung.”

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Late in the Night | Part Four

Previous part

Prompt: Friends have a bet how long it will take the ship to get together (Content Challenge Day 7)

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1602

Warnings: None

Challenge participants: @game-ofthe-company @grunid @themerriweathermage @errruvande @the-reformed-ringwraith @awkwardkindatries

^^ Hey! If I haven't commented on your post(s) yet, it just means I haven't gotten the chance to read them. School has been ramping up, but as I have free moments, I'll be going back and looking at all your challenge posts <3

A/n: You guys...IT'S THE LAST PROMPT OF THE CONTENT CHALLENGE! What?! Thank you so much to everyone who participated and interacted with our posts. I had such a blast creating this past week and getting to know each and every one of you. I think it would be fun to do something like this again in the future, so let me know if you would like to be involved in planning/get updates!

As always, I encourage you to check out the accounts tagged above and our masterlists! You can find the challenge masterlist here and my personal masterlist here. Okay, enjoy :)

Aragorn waits, keeping an eye on the trees.

The minute his friends from the eastern inn arrive, they will leave town.

He had a pleasant night — private room, hot bath, well-prepared meals — but is ready to get back on their journey. For all he knows, the brief rest he allowed them could have already cost them vital time.

That thought causes him to pace.

“Calm yourself, dear friend, they will be along shortly,” Gandalf councils.

Aragorn tries to heed the wise wizard’s advice. Sure enough, he soon hears the light sounds of feet crushing grass and twigs, and knows they are close.

The four of them break into sight at roughly the same time, and Aragorn notices two things:

One, Legolas and Y/n refuse to look at each other.

Two, Gimli wears a grin bright enough to rival the sun.

Aragorn knows he must speak with the dwarf as soon as possible.

Something has happened.

Merry, who doesn’t get enough credit for his observation skills, notices the oddities too, and elbows Pippin in the side. Their eyes grow wide, and it takes everything in them not to shout guesses as to what this means.

It is a good while before Aragorn, Pippin, Merry, and Gimli have a chance to convene and discuss the new development. All four of them, though of course dedicated to the task at hand, desperately want a resolution to their ongoing bet.

It had started innocently enough.

Merry made an off-hand comment about how well Legolas and Y/n seem to get along. Gimli noticed the lass was a clumsier fighter when Legolas was watching. Aragorn realized his friend seemed nervous around the human woman. Pippin saw how each of them smiled brighter when the other was near.

Somehow or other, the four of them had put together their observations, and the rest is history.

The bet was born.

Each of them had put down fifteen coins and a deadline, losing the coins if Legolas and Y/n did not become a couple by the deadline, and winning coins if they did. Knowing his friend’s shy nature well, Aragorn had given the two the lengthiest allowance — six months. Pippin and Merry recognized the bold nature of humans, and guessed it would only take four months for Y/n to speak her mind and Legolas to reciprocate. Gimli, on the other hand, thought the two were already head-over-heels for each other and wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it, and had given them only a month and a half.

Each participant, knowing his deadline was drawing nearer, had taken steps to push the two in the right direction.

The hobbit friends moved Legolas’ and Y/n’s bedrolls closer when they weren’t looking.

Aragorn put them on watch together. A lot. To the point where he actually felt bad about the bags under Y/n’s eyes.

But Gimli, perhaps, had been the boldest of them all, and proudly tells his friends so the moment they are alone much later that evening.

“Quickly, they are suspicious why it took four of us to gather firewood and herbs,” Aragorn mutters, darting a quick glance in the direction of camp.

“Yes, just get on with it,” Pippin squeaks, then throws a hand over his mouth, knowing he might alert Legolas with his volume.

“Alright, listen up lads.” Gimli grins and proudly tells his tale. “Boromir and I got to the inn first, as planned, and the innkeeper asked how many were in our party. I said two, and the innkeeper made a comment how it was good we didn’t have more folk waiting outside, as his inn was almost full. Well, that got me thinkin’, so I inquired how many more rooms were available. The innkeeper said two, not including the ones Boromir and I purchased. So I whipped out my velvet pouch and paid for another room, fibbin’ a bit and saying I might have a lady friend visiting and wasn’t sure if she would want to sleep in my room or not after our activities.” He wiggles his eyebrows in response to the stunned looks of his friend.

Aragorn shakes his head slowly, a bemused smile setting in his lips. “So you paid for an extra room just to force Legolas and Y/n into sharing?”

“Right you are,” Gimli grins, placing his fists on his hips. “It wasna even that expensive — I’ll make it back three times over, now that I’ve won this thing.”

“Ah, ah, ah, hold on,” Merry holds up a hand, halting Gimli’s gloat. “You can’t prove they did or said anything to start a courtship, so you haven’t won!”

“They won’t even look at each other and the elf’s as red as a strawberry, of course something happened,” Gimli practically shouts.

Aragorn, reliably a voice of reason, intervenes. “We shall have to inquire then, but be smart about it. We do not want to jeopardize their potential courtship with our game.”

The companions agree, then quickly turn to the forest, gathering firewood and herbs to supplement Sam’s soup and their cover story.

{***}

Back at camp, Legolas sits on a low tree branch, keeping watch over all his friends.

But mostly Y/n.

He cannot pull his eyes from her face. She sits on a rock, staring into the fire, absently cleaning the mud from her boots. Without permission, his mind goes back to the way he held her this morning, tucked against his chest, her leg wrapped around his. It was wildly improper, and he should be ashamed of himself.

But he doesn’t feel ashamed. Because the way they woke up this morning didn’t feel improper, it felt natural. With all his heart, Legolas wants to wake up like that every morning — his favorite person kept safely against his side. He wants to guard her and give her a wonderful life and bring her home and have his people adore her, too.

Legolas’ resolve hardens, because he knows he can no longer keep this to himself. Y/n has a right to know how he feels, because it affects her too.

He pushes himself from the branch, landing on the ground in silence. With four long strides, he stops beside her, reaching down a hand. “Will you talk with me?”

She looks up at him, nerves like she’s never felt before erupting within her. But she gathers her courage, forces what she hopes is a smile, and takes Legolas’ hand.

She wonders what he’ll say.

All day, she had been lost in embarrassment. Somehow in the night, she’d thrown her leg over his and practically attached herself to his chest — who does that?! And he’d said nothing when they woke up, only got up and went about his routine like normal.

So obviously, he doesn’t feel anything for her.

And that’s what this conversation has to be about.

Briefly, though, she allows herself to remember what it felt like to be in his embrace, and knows that she will cherish that feeling forever.

The warmth of his hand in hers helps her hold on to that memory and, to her surprise, when they reach a secluded spot, he does not let go. No, he takes her other hand in his, clutching both tightly.

Legolas nearly shakes with nerves, and he wonders if she can tell? Does she know how he feels like he might be sick? Oh, he has never felt anxiety like this before, and desperately wishes for it to be gone.

So he wastes no time in putting himself out of his misery.

“I want to be with you.”

Y/n blinks. Surely she can’t have heard him correctly? “What?”

Legolas sighs — her reaction gives him no indication how she feels either way. He bolsters his courage, and tries again. “I feel affection for each member of this Fellowship. But whereas I love the others as if they were my kin, I am unable to deny that how I love you is different. Elves live long lives and thus take matters of the heart very seriously. And, well,” he shrugs, all eloquence leaving him the moment he sees the shy, hopeful smile spread across her lips. “My heart is with you.”

Y/n can hardly believe her ears. She thought that he didn’t…that there was no chance of…but rather than dwell on all her miscalculations, or the myriad of dangers that haunt their future, she decides to just enjoy the moment. She throws her arms around Legolas’ neck, and he grips her tightly against him.

She turns her cheek to rest on his shoulder, unable to contain her grin. “You hold mine as well. I love you, Legolas.”

He pulls back only to rest his forehead against hers, head swimming from the joy of her acceptance and at being this close to her. “And I love you.” She lets out a giddy laugh and he closes his eyes, soaking in the sound. But then he focuses again, for there is something important he still must ask. “Will you accept my offer of courtship?”

Y/n can’t help herself from bumping her nose against his affectionately, and it feels so wonderful, so free to be with him this way. She has no desire for her future to continue without him, and so, her answer is found easily. “Of course.”

Relief settles in Legolas’ bones, the nerves finally leaving him and being replaced with happiness.

Just as their lips meet, the four friends break through the tree-line, back from collecting supplies.

Gimli’s triumphant shout can be heard for miles.

“Pay up, lads!”

A/n The end! This is the last chapter of this mini-series! Thanks for sticking with me as I had some fun with this one. I keep tag-lists, so at any time, just let me know if you would like to be tagged in anything. I’m in the planning stages of a Haldir x OC fic, and while I usually stay away from OC’s, I just cannot fathom typing “Y/n” for the length that I’m planning on making that story. So be on the lookout for that! Hope you all are taking care of yourselves and please know that my inbox is always open. Lots of love!

LITN tag list: @angelic-kisses13 @lainphotography @anangelwhodidntfall @sheriffgerard @themerriweathermage @k-llama-llama @hirokosoul @wellfuckmyexistence @ipsychosocial @anjhope1 @my-lotr-obsession-is-unhealthy

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asweetprologue · 3 years

Text

me lámh le do lámh - Part IV

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

They spent a few days in Oxenfurt, mostly for Jaskier’s benefit. The bard hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t prepared to head out. There was packing to be done, his rooms to see to, appointments to cancel with the university. Geralt was happy enough to wait. It wasn’t strictly a hardship to spend some time lounging in Jaskier’s rooms and wandering the university gardens during the day before following Jaskier to whatever tavern or hall he was to play at for the evening. Jaskier was away for the better part of most days, but Geralt moved his things to Jaskier’s rooms after the first night at the inn. Waking well before Jaskier in the same bed, he was greeted each morning to Jaskier’s arm slung across his chest, warm and comfortable in the predawn silence. His cheeks would be ruddy with sleep and their shared heat under the blankets, his hair flattened awkwardly to his skull where it had been pressed to the pillow.

He’d missed this. After months without Jaskier’s presence, it felt like he was drowning in it, shocked by the strength of his own reaction. With the golden light of the morning sun shining through Jaskier’s one window to fall softly across his brow and pick out the silver strands in his hair, Geralt wondered at how he could have ever misplaced this feeling in his chest. He loved him. He wanted to preserve each moment in fine amber, never to fade.

But finally Jaskier was finished making his arrangements, and they were able to set out from Oxenfurt towards their first destination. It would take them several weeks to collect the components that Ida had mentioned—weeks that Geralt would have to spend dancing around the subject of the ritual and its origins, as well as his traitorous heart. As he caught Jaskier’s bright smile from up ahead as they crossed the Oxenfurt bridge, he hoped that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

“So where, exactly, are these mysterious elven ruins?”

Geralt grunted, both in answer and in exertion as he swung his sword through another clump of heavy brush, clearing the path. Roach waited patiently behind him, and Jaskier less so. He turned to look back at them both, finding Jaskier giving him an unimpressed look. Geralt forced down the urge to grumble again. “They’re close,” he said, taking Roach’s reins to lead her through the cleared bushes. The path that they were following was barely a deer trail in places, clearly unused for decades. There had been no sign thus far that the area had once been populated aside from the occasional flash of white brickwork that told Geralt they were on the right track.

“Oh, really,” said Jaskier, who had likely not noticed the brickwork, based on Geralt’s past experience with his observation skills. “You know what I think, Geralt? I think we’re lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere, a day away from the nearest hamlet, and we’re just as likely to find a wyvern den as an elven temple out here.”

“Wyverns don’t populate the lowlands,” Geralt said automatically, kicking a large branch out of Roach’s path.

Jaskier made a strangled sound behind him that Geralt might call a growl if it had come from anyone else. “I know that, I was being hyperbolic, you ass. You’re avoiding the issue.”

“We’re on the right path.” Another glint of white stone caught his eye, this time the edge of an arch wrapped nearly over in vines and moss. Only fragments remained, large chunks blending in with the forest floor.

“As if you would admit it if you were lost,” Jaskier griped, shoving a branch out of his own way. “Remember that time near Spikeroog? We were lost in a boat for three days because you wouldn’t just admit that we went west for six hours—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, and pushed aside the last of the foliage.

Jaskier fell silent, and they both looked beyond the treeline into the clearing Geralt had revealed. Before them rose a silent, crumbling stone structure, pale as a ghost against the dark lines of the trees in the afternoon light. Much of its surface had been reclaimed already by the forest, but enough of it poked through to give a general sense of scale. It towered at least two stories above them, though the edges were uneven in a way that suggested it once may have been higher. The front facade rose in a flat wall before them, pierced by a line of arches, their edges decorated in fading but intricate reliefs. Here and there along the line of what had once been the path leading to the central arch, the occasional protrusion of a column could be seen. The path beyond the central arch was shadowed, too dark for even Geralt to see past after so long in the daylight.

Jaskier stepped forward into the narrow clearing, and Geralt followed. Wordlessly, Jaskier raised a hand to trail along the remnants of a low, circular stone wall, perhaps the remnants of an ancient well. When he looked up at Geralt, his eyes shone, two pieces of midday sky in the murky shade of the forest. “I stand corrected,” he said, offering Geralt a giddy grin.

Geralt shook his head with a small smile, drawing Roach further into the clearing. “Let’s set up camp here. You can explore when we have someplace to sleep.”

Jaskier agreed eagerly and they both launched into the process of setting up camp. They fell easily back into old patterns, Jaskier slotting seamlessly into Geralt’s routine. It was always easier to set up and break down camp when the bard was around, though Geralt thought it had very little to do with splitting the work halfway.

Within half an hour they had created a comfortable camp in the clearing and Geralt had Roach tended to, and they both stood before the dark archway into the ruins.

Jaskier hesitated over the threshold, his excitement over the history of the place apparently conceding to nerves. “Well, ah. After you, witcher,” he said, holding out an arm as if holding an imaginary door for Geralt to walk through.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stepped into the small hall beyond the archway, blinking a few times to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. “Come on, bard,” he called over his shoulder, amusement and affection swelling in his chest as he heard Jaskier mutter and quick footsteps follow after him.

The hall ended in a flight of stairs leading down, and they had to pause to light a torch when Jaskier ran directly into Geralt’s back and nearly knocked them both down it. A quick burst of igni had firelight dancing across the smooth white stones as they descended into the ruins.

Elves, Geralt had found, rarely built up. Though their cities had towered in ages past, their true magnificence had always lain below ground. The complex that they made their way down into was labyrinthian, huge open hallways with dozens of rooms and offshoots, archways that looked in on underground courtyards with pierced ceilings that let in the daylight, huge caverns expertly carved into cathedrals. Jaskier quickly brought out a bit of charcoal he often used for taking notes or sketching and began to mark their way with arrows pointing back the way they’d come, so they might not be hopelessly lost in the ruins. Geralt led them mostly by smell, at first; Triss had mentioned that any ritual chambers would likely be on the lower levels, as they were considered private and upper floors were generally public. He followed the cool, chalky scent of wet stone deeper into the ruins, down ramps and stairways until they were all but buried in the earth.

“I never knew the true breadth of them,” Jaskier breathed at one point, as they made their way down a winding spiral staircase that curved along what seemed like a natural cave shaft. “I’ve read, of course, about the scale of the old elven kingdoms, but it’s different to see it all. We’ve been walking for hours already and I feel as if there’s still miles to be seen.”

“Maybe not miles,” Geralt said, keeping one ear out for potential movement and one on Jaskier’s footsteps on the slick stone steps. “One’s I’ve been to before are usually somewhere around five and fifteen levels. We’re getting close to the bottom.”

Jaskier hummed in acknowledgment. “You could take an entire lifetime to study this place. Why hasn’t anyone surveyed it? How do you know the thing you're after for this ritual hasn’t already been taken?”

At that moment Geralt heard a gentle click, and he reached up just in time to pluck the arrow from the air as it hissed past his ear and towards Jaskier’s head. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder, finding Jaskier wide eyed behind him. Looking meaningfully down at Jaskier’s foot, he jerked his chin up.

Jaskier lifted up his foot, and the click of a pressure plate resetting filled the narrow space.

“That’s how,” Geralt said, tossing the arrow to the side.

“Of course,” Jaskier said weakly. “Of course the place is booby trapped.”

“And haunted probably,” Geralt agreed, continuing down the stairs. “Stay close. Wouldn’t want you to die before I can make you immortal.” The words were said as much in jest as he could make them, but he felt a brief strum of anxiety all the same.

Jaskier huffed in annoyance, but Geralt could feel him press even closer. He ignored the way that the air between them seemed to heat, the soothing warmth of Jaskier’s presence pressing back the dark more efficiently than any torch.

“Look,” Jaskier’s voice came from behind him. Geralt turned around to see Jaskier rubbing at a patch of the wall in the hall they were currently trekking through, the ancient slabs of stone crumbling a bit at his touch. “There’s writing here.”

Geralt stepped up next to him, feeling Jaskier’s warmth radiating along his side. Forcing himself to ignore the proximity, he leaned in to peer at the wall. “Elder, looks like. Can’t make it out.”

“It looks like one of the early northern dialects, closer to Laith aen Undod.” Jaskier scrambled in his small pack and pulled out his bit of charcoal and his notebook, handing the torch off to Geralt. Accepting the light, Geralt frowned at Jaskier as he made a few quick lines on the paper, referring back to the wall a few times. His tongue poked just barely out between his lips, as it always did when he was concentrating. After a moment he stood up straight, leaning towards the light to examine his own markings.

“Can you read that?” Geralt asked, genuinely surprised. He was fairly well versed in Elder, but his knowledge was more practical, learned from his interactions with the Scoia’tael and learning the Signs. The One Speech was well beyond his understanding, not to mention the various ancient dialects of Elder.

“Mm, I’m better at reading Elder than I am at speaking it, I’m afraid. Academic knowledge. Have to be able to translate the old poems and stories, after all.” He flashed Geralt a grin, the laugh lines deepening around his eyes. They sparkled in the light of the torch, turning the blue silver-gold. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat.

When Geralt didn’t respond quickly enough, Jaskier turned back to the notes he’d made on the paper. He muttered a few things to himself in Elder, the words sounding oddly musical—as if he’d learned to pronounce the language through song, which he probably had. Finally he scribbled a few notes in Common. “I think it’s a road sign, of sorts,” Jaskier said slowly. His tone took on the particular quality that Geralt had come to recognize as his “professor voice” over the years. He’d always found it rather amusing. “This complex must have been big enough to necessitate passage markers. See the sideways arrowhead under the top line? It says—well, I’m not sure, but I know the root has to do with the evening meal, so I’d guess it’s pointing to some kind of tavern or dining hall. And this one just says ‘sanctuary,’ I think. That’s a weird one, that symbol in more modern Elder just means ‘place’ but there’s a prefix here that adds a sort of defensive quality to it. Maybe ‘protected place’?” Jaskier frowned down at his own work. Already he had somehow managed to smudge charcoal across his cheek.

“Might be right,” Geralt grunted, impressed. “Triss said it would be in a safe place. ‘Ionad chosanta.’”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully. “Could be as good a translation as any.”

“Better than wandering around,” Geralt shrugged, and turned towards the hall the arrow pointed towards. Before stepping into the darkness, he paused, looking back at Jaskier. Without letting himself think too hard about it, he reached up and rubbed away the charcoal on Jaskier’s cheekbone. The sweep of his thumb pushed back the soot and revealed the pale skin underneath, still so soft even after so many years spent traveling out in the elements. That skin care regiment Jaskier was always going on about must be worth something, he thought faintly.

Jaskier was silent, staring at him with an expression that reminded Geralt of a hare staring down the point of an arrow. Clearing his throat briefly, Geralt let his hand fall and said, “Thanks. For the… You did good.”

Even in the dim light, Geralt could see the flush that lit up Jaskier’s face at that, spilling prettily over his cheekbones. He gaped at Geralt for a moment before his mouth snapped closed with a near audible clack. Geralt expected a witty rejoinder of some kind, perhaps a jab at his historical inability to offer praise. He knew he deserved it, even if Jaskier meant it in anger rather than jest. Raising Ciri had taught him the value of voicing his appreciation and affection for others, even if he still struggled for the right words to do so. Yennefer had painstakingly beat it into his head. Ciri hadn’t known that he cared unless he said so, and so he had no other alternatives. Looking at Jaskier gaping at him, he wondered how many times Jaskier had assumed that Geralt cared little for him for lack of a kind word. His chest hurt at the thought.

After long enough that the silence had grown heavy and awkward, Jaskier coughed lightly, ducking to hide his expression. The ribbing Geralt had prepared himself for did not come. “Not a problem,” was all Jaskier said, brushing past him. “Let’s get a move on, yes? Don’t want the torch to run low.”

Geralt stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and following.

The shrine, when they found it, was hidden behind a thick patch of rubble that Geralt had to blast out of the way with a few precise applications of aard. He slipped inside first, sliding through the small opening in the stone and landing lightly on the other side. His eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom, to his surprise, and he realized that there were several glowing crystals embedded in the walls around him at even intervals. There came the sound of cascading stones and a low curse from behind him, and he turned in time to catch Jaskier’s elbow before the bard fell flat on his face.

“Ah, thank you, dear witcher,” Jaskier huffed, reaching up to fruitlessly brush the dust from his jacket. Looking up, he halted in his motions, taking in the room around them in its soft, ethereal light. “Oh,” he breathed.

It was indeed beautiful, even in its decaying state. Like everything in the tunnels, the structures were unmistakably elven, but even so they appeared alien to Geralt’s eyes. The walls were covered in delicate mosaic work, in patterns that danced in the flickering light of their torch and that of the crystals. The center of the room was dominated by a blank circle of unmarked stone, with Elder runes engraved along the edge that Geralt could not even begin to decipher. The circle was framed by a delicate canopy of carved white stone, supported on four pillars of the same material. The carvings were so minute that for a moment Geralt thought the entire structure might be built not of stone, but of some sort of webbing or silk. It was delicate enough to be blown glass, but when he set his hand against one of the pillars it was as unforgiving as a mountainside.

Jaskier ran his fingers along one of the walls, tracing a twist in the tiny shards of colored glass. “It’s beautiful,” he said, voice pitched low.

“Triss said these places were sacred to the Aes Sidhe. They mark where the elves first arrived,” Geralt said. He found his own gaze drawn back to the center of the unmarked circle beneath the canopy. “Here.”

Set into the very center of the stone circle was a small depression, no larger than Geralt’s palm. He stepped into the circle and knelt down, peering at it. Within the shallow bowl formed by the carved out floor sat an oval stone, maybe three inches long at its widest point. Drawing out his trophy knife, Geralt set the edge of it against the lip of the facet and twisted it. It popped out surprisingly easily, as if it was meant to be removed by design.

Jaskier hovered behind him as Geralt picked up the gaes carraigh. It was cool against his fingers, made of a translucent white stone that became more opaque at the edges. The center was nearly see-through, and when Geralt held it up the light played oddly in its depths. His medallion hummed faintly against his chest, warning him of the presence of magic. “Is that it?” Jaskier asked, resting one of his hands on Geralt’s shoulder to lean in closer.

“Think so,” Geralt replied, trying to ignore the weight of Jaskier pressed against him.

“What exactly does it do?” Jaskier reached out his free hand to press a finger against the center of the stone, curious as always. Geralt allowed it, and forced himself not to flinch when their fingers brushed incidentally. He could feel his ears warm regardless.

“It… binds the words of the ritual, or something. I didn’t ask.”

“Gaes carraigh… promise rock?” Jaskier tried, dropping to lean his full elbow on Geralt’s shoulder, casually slotting their forms together. His fingers barely brushed against Geralt’s collarbone, and he took a slow breath to maintain control over his heartbeat. Suddenly the proximity was overwhelming. Here they were, in a sacred space where possibly dozens of couples had made their vows to each other, fingers both lingering over the stone that would bind their oaths. In another life, perhaps they could have had something like this—Jaskier resplendent in the light of the blue crystals, eyes shining, looking at Geralt with adoration as they made their promises to each other. He would want to dress up, like he always did for a big event, but this time it would be only for himself and Geralt. Would he dress in blue? Or perhaps black, a witcher’s color, his pale skin like moonlight against the night sky. Would he wear a crown of periwinkle and sage, as was the northern custom? He would lean in close, like he was now, and murmur his vows to Geralt in words that flowed as smooth as a song.

He hadn’t known it was possible to want something so badly it was like a physical ache. Geralt was a witcher; he did not allow himself to think on things he couldn’t have. But here in this place, with Jaskier so close and yet so far away, the force of his desire felt oppressive. Jaskier didn’t know what any of this meant, and Geralt had no right to it, no right to want it. It was just a ritual. The context didn’t mean anything, because Jaskier would never feel that way about him.

After all, Geralt thought, looking down at the oathstone in his palm, who would want to marry a witcher?

Jaskier was still talking, and Geralt wrenched himself out of his thoughts when the arm on his shoulder pulled back and Jaskier patted the empty space once, as if in parting. “—probably get going, don’t you think? I do not relish the idea of being stuck here overnight. Not that I am not entirely confident in your abilities, darling, but I feel it’s best not to tempt fate when it comes to ghosts of ancient elven sages. Do you think they would count this as stealing? Probably. Anyways, I don’t want to find out what angry centuries old spirits do to trespassers.”

Geralt grunted, still gathering himself. He felt sluggish under the weight of his own emotions, pushing himself to his feet laboriously. The oathstone was heavy in his hand, and he slipped it into his potions pouch in the hope that it would feel less burdensome there. Without a word, he stood and exited the chamber the way they’d come, Jaskier fumbling after him.

#geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #witcher #fic #fanfic #writing #my work #me lamh #multichapter #big bang #geraskierbigbang

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carolinedoesmagic · 2 years

Text

Mind healing 2/2

AN: Here’s Odeta. We’re soon to start simping.

Adriene calmly commanded the room. She greeted Myra and myself and didn’t miss a beat when the inn owner asked her to not take the dog - Benji - with her. She simply looked at her companion and I jumped, promising to look after him the entire time and pay for any potential damage he might cause - not that I believed there would be any. Myra frowned, nodded, and promised supper when the task was done, and I clumsily followed in the mind healer’s footstep upstairs.

When we entered the room, it seemed as though Odeta was awaiting this as impatiently as I had. There was a quick round of introductions, after which, Adriane told me to wait outside and enter if I happen to hear a scream.

‘I shall try to do this alone, but assistance might be necessary. I need you to focus fully and enter at the first sound that seems unnatural.’

I exited, with Benji at my heel, and sat with my back and head against the door. After around 20 minutes of listening intently while stroking his thick fur, there was a shrill sound from the inside, and I rushed in. The two were seated face to face, Odeta's eyes frozen in front of her, Adriene's fingers massaging her temples. I didn’t have the time to ask what had happened before she spoke.

‘Sit here and look at us. If there’s even a twitch, separate us the very instant, but do not touch our skin or look either directly in the eye. It’s dangerous, Caroline.’

I diligently followed the instructions while the two women sat facing each other, frozen like statues. Another horrifying sound filled the small room after many heartbeats, but neither moved or opened their mouths.

I grabbed them both by their clothes, pulling Adriane back while drawing Odeta closer to me. She fell back, landing on the mattress behind her, the head dangerously close to the wooden board. My eyes instinctively went to her to check for safety and my gaze locked with her frozen ice eyes.

I felt like I was being sucked into a tiny space by my forehead, and I was suddenly looking down my - not my - hands in black and white. I - not I - was holding a gardening tool in the middle of a field. A man was approaching me, swaggering and saying nasty things, and I - not I - instinctively picked up the tool as a weapon. I - myself - focused my brain power of reminding myself what was happening, that I was probably in Odeta's head.

The situation suddenly shifted, and I was sitting at a long table, with a smartly-dressed man with a goatee across from me. The memory was black and white again, but there were red details here and there - the wine in the glass, his bow tie - and my stomach was filled with dread. I focused again, this time much harder, and I blinked my way back in the room with two frozen women. Odeta's nose was bleeding. Using all my pathetic strength, I picked her up and seated her across from Adriane, and they seemed to connect again. My head was pounding but I didn’t move.

Some short minutes later, they both blinked. Adriane looked at me more sharply than I could ever imagine her doing and asked me what had happened. I told her about the hallucination-memory, which was met with a curt nod.

‘Well, the procedure was mostly a success. It’s not okay that you’ve seen her memory, but we had no better choice here. She should be getting back her personality tomorrow, the trauma is locked away now. If she seems strange or remembers things that didn’t happen, don’t question it. If she doesn’t wake up, contact me.’

‘Oh, and do tell her that you’ve entered her mind. It’s not good to hide such matters.’

Odeta was already asleep, and I was advised to do the same. Adriene took the money, rubbed her head some more, and left me for a solid nine hours of sleep, not a single thought about the implications of my intrusion having the time to reach my consciousness before I lost it.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd #dnd 5e #5e #adventure #campaign #one on one campaign #story #storytelling #writing #writer #original content #oc #fantasy #fantasy story #shadow sorcerer #sorcerer

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haruno-sakura-san · 3 years

Note

So I have a thought for an ItaSaku AU. Sakura gets some intel on where Sasuke is headed right before his fight with Itachi. She shows up after they've both knocked each other out. She goes to try and help Sasuke, but Tobi gets between them and takes Sasuke away with him. Which leaves Sakura staring down at Itachi. The man who is the reason for Sasuke's anger and hatred. But she's also a medic. She leans down, assuming that he is dead but she finds the faintest of heartbeats (1)

I’VE FINALLY WRITTEN SOMETHING FOR THIS!

Sorry this took so long to respond too. I love this AU idea and was thinking it over for a while. I knew I just had to write something out for it, the potential was too good! We MUST have more soft Itachi moments and this would be full of them.

Anyway, it strays a little from the prompt, its not finished and I’m not completely satisfied with the last bit (I swear I can’t write Itachi correctly anymore), but its something and I hope you like it! Feel free to send me thoughts, more suggestions or things you’d like different!

🌸🍡

Do No Harm - Part 1/2

Word count: 4,682

It happens so fast, within the time she takes to blink. One second she’s rushing toward Sasuke, the next Tobi is standing over him, then one blink – that’s it – and they are both gone.

“Sasuke!” She screams his name into the empty space, but its futile. They're long gone, and she did nothing to stop him from being taken.

She stops running, hand braced against the uchiwa painted into the only wall left intact from the battle. What is she supposed to do now? She has no idea of where to look for them, and if she goes back to her team and the village empty-handed... Either way, Kakashi-sensei will be pissed. She's such a failure.

Hot tears fall from her eyes, mixing with the freezing rain. She's standing over Itachi's body with hate in her eyes. She never thought in her life she'd have the capacity to truly hate someone like she didn't now. It was his fault. All of it. Her being here to save Sasuke, his fault Sasuke had left, his fault Sasuke had been injured enough to be taken, and his fault Sasuke had festered under his own hatred so much he couldn't love her.

Her hot tears drop onto Itachi's cheeks, and he flinches. He's not completely dead.

Her hands find his skin, still warm, feeling for any sign of life and - there - fainter than the brush of a butterfly's wings is his heartbeat fluttering along.

There's a rush to that discovery and the act of beating back death from someone, and in the face of so much uncertainty on what to do next, her hands automatically start to work. This she knows. This is the only thing she knows. The feeling of uselessness starts to fade away as she gains momentum and his heart beats stronger.

Later she rationalizes that he's the only one who might know where Tobi could have gone and the only one strong enough to face him should it come to that, but it's secondary to that intrinsic need to do and fix. She's so exhausted by the end, it's all she can manage to take them to an inn nearby. She collapses at the edge of his bed and sleeps for hours.

When she wakes, she's staring into the eyes of the man she hates most in the world. She stands quickly, and a blanket drops from her shoulders to her surprise.

"Sorry, did I wake you? You were shivering."

She doesn't expect an apology or that he isn't showing any signs of aggression at all. Her response is uncharacteristically rude, just a cold glare.

"You look familiar, but I don't know why." He says with a lost look, unaffected by her glare, and moving to sit up. He winces, and she's at his side again, checking his injuries even as she scowls. "I can't remember anything, actually." He continues without his eyes leaving her face.

"Excuse me if I don't believe you." And why should she? He was smart, and this could be his best chance at preying on her soft side.

"You don't.. like me." He answers slowly, only because it's written all over her face.

"No."

He looks down at her glowing hands, "But you're still helping me."

She clenches her jaw and doesn't answer. He's clearly tired, but he's trying to learn as much as he can by just observing. The room, her expression, her clothes. His eyes snag on her headband.

"You're a leaf Kunoichi." Her eyes meet his for a moment in confirmation. "I...am also a leaf shinobi." He says it carefully like he's tugging the memory loose from his head.

"You were. Not anymore." She corrects, offended he'd put himself in the same category as her. They weren't the same at all.

"Was? Hmm." He considers it some more. "I remember bits and pieces of my home, Konoha, but that's it. Nothing about leaving. Is that normal?"

"Stop talking so I can concentrate." She snaps, and to her surprise, he responds with a soft apology.

"Yes, of course. I apologize."

He’s healing more slowly than she'd like, mostly because of her own exhaustion and shallow chakra reserves. At the close of this checkup, he asks, "May I please have some water?"

Begrudgingly, she gets him a glass and press it into his hand. He winces again at the weight and almost drop it. Sakura catches it quickly and raises it to his lips, silently helping him drink. She removes it before he has his fill with an explanation, "Drink too quickly, and you'll make yourself sick."

He looks up at her, now much closer than before, and stare.

"What?" She barks.

"I can finally see you clearly." He says it without embarrassment. His eyesight was that bad, and he's just admitted it with the same even tone as one would admit the sky was blue. "You're beautiful for a kunoichi. You don't have any scars."

She stands up quickly, feeling a flare of strong emotion in her. Hate. She hated him so much. This all had to be an act. Playing on her softness and vanity. She stalks go the door.

"Where are you going?" He asks with a note of panic in his voice.

"I'm getting dinner." The first excuse that pops in her head, and closes the door behind her. He won't leave in this state, and even if he goes, good riddance.

Again she's faced with why she's doing this at all. She should be reporting back to the village, to Kakashi, but what would she say. She just revived a criminal and aided him in escaping capture instead of reporting back. But more than that, she was scared. What if they told her Sasuke had been killed? How can she face them after being such a failure? Naruto's disappointed face would break her.

There were too many scenarios to think through. Too many what-ifs, and that was paralyzing. But she did know if she left Itachi now, he would die. Maybe that was for the best anyway. He was destined to die anyway, right, so she should just walk out the door -

She stops short at the bottom of the stairs. At the inn's entrance is a giant man who's skin was ice blue and cloak covered in red clouds, darkened by the rain. Kisame, Itachi's partner. She darts back up the stairs before he can see her, hurrying back through the door to their room.

"Did they not have food-"

"We have to leave." She's already gathering her few supplies, shoving anything useful in the room into her pack. "Now."

She pops a soldier pill and helps him to the edge of the bed, threading his arms through the straps of her plack and dropping her traveling cloak around his shoulders.

"What's going on?"

"Just get on my back." She crouches in front of him, waiting to feel his weight leaning against her before she grabs the back of his knees and stands. They flew out the window into the rain as fast as she can manage.

The weather is awful for traveling but gives them lots of cover, beating away their tracks as she runs with no destination in mind other than away from the inn and the battleground to the north.

The longer she runs, the weaker they both feel. He needs rest and at the warm wetness seeping into her back, she knows he's reopened some injury. But she doesn't know where to stop. She has nowhere safe to take him.

"Miss?" She hears in her ear. She hadn't told him her name. She tilts her head, so he knows she heard him. "I think I remember something. A hideout from when I was a child."

Her gut tells her not to trust him, but what choice does she have? If she's walking into a trap, the worst they could do is kill her, and if Sasuke was dead, well...

"Head to the right toward that Maple tree with the twisted branches. There's a hidden door at the base."

She takes his direction and sees it almost immediately. It's been shaped from a sapling or through some Jutsu has a pair of lower branches twisting unnaturally together in a spiral. She inspects for a door but doesn't see one.

Itachi asks to be lowered, and she does, looping a weight bearing arm under his shoulders. On his hands and knees, his hands sink into the muddy grass, and she feels a flare of chakra. A door snaps upward. She doesn't ask any questions yet, just hurries them inside.

Uchiwas cover the room, including a faded tapestry on the far wall "Protect and Serve" in script at the bottom. It looks to be some kind of secret meeting room, but she figures it doubles as a safe house when she finds enough to last a full year in the back. She hopes they won't need them for that long.

Dragging out a dusty futon that smells like mildew, she makes a comfortable place for Itachi to lie back. No chakra left for healing, she has to treat his reopened wounds the old fashioned way, with antiseptic and stitches. After she's finished, she again hand feeds him water and a quick miso soup she found dehydrated in the back.

He thanks her more times than she can count, and not once does she answer.

Only when she's rinsing out bandages in a sink in the tiny bathroom does she finally stop to consider just what she's doing.

Again she had the opportunity to leave. She could have left him for his partner to find, but she took him and ran. Staring at his blood on her hands, she feels nothing but disgust for herself and confusion. She scrubs her skin raw.

Wandering back to the room where Itachi is sleeping, she props herself up against a wall, glaring at him until she loses the battle against her exhaustion.

His coughing is what wakes her, wet and deep. She pulls his hand away and sees dark blood. A curse leaves her. She'd check before she left for internal bleeding and broken ribs. There was no reason for blood in his lungs. None. Although it will have consequences, she pops another soldier pill and looks again.

It's a disease.

Her hands drop away, and she leans back on her calves. Another chance to give up and walk away. Another choice.

She stands and begins to pace. It was very advance, and this type was something he'd have been born with. Treatable now, but clearly untreated. She turns her back on him, staring deep into that tapestry with the uchiwa. A chink in the great protege's armor. In the strength of the Uchiha clan. Had they left it untreated to save face? Doesn't matter because she needed to decide whether it would be worth it to hide here and heal a man whose very body was fighting against him. A man she hated. An enemy. Should she stay even when she should already be headed back? When Sasuke could be in trouble?

His wet coughs pull her back, and she can't stay away. Her glare is hot on her face as she does what she can to ease his symptoms for the time being.

Team 7 and 8 would have already found the battle sight and have more information than her. They were a team designed for tracking. What would she even add to that? She'd be a spectator. Here at least, she was doing something. She was making an impact. And if Itachi lived, he could give them information they didn't already have.

She leaves to find tea and rationalizes some more.

The second wave of exhaustion from the soldier pills is worse than the first, as she knew it would be. She doesn't know how much time has passed, but Itachi is thankfully sleeping when she wakes. She'd die if he saw her in this state.

Her empty stomach lurches, bitter saliva filling her mouth. Staggering to the bathroom, her muscles tight from overuse and sleeping against a cold wall, she's sick several times. Nothing is I'm her stomach but yellow acid, and when that's gone, dry heaves for several minutes. The cool tile on her face is a relief. She's exhausted, and the weight of her loneliness hits her in full. Her friends don't know she's here. She can't leave. Even if it makes her the weakest shinobi in the world, she just wants to go home and see her mother's face again. She wants her mom to bring her peppermint tea and rub her back softly until she feels well again.

She's silently crying on the floor, holding her breath through the sobs, so they don't escape. Her moment doesn't last long because Itachi's coughs reach her again. She sits up, wipes her face, and focuses on the only thing she can.

She doesn't have enough chakra right now, but he's not coughing up blood this time, so she opts for traditional methods. A warm mug of tea in her hand, she slides behind him and helps him sit up, leaning his weight back against her smaller frame. His breath is less labored sitting up. She stirs him awake and carefully pours tea into his mouth, it's sharp herbal vapors opening and soothing his airways. Then she rubs circles into his back until he falls asleep again, thinking about her mother and her home.

It takes a week before he's well enough to stay away for any length of time. It's restless and agonizing for Sakura, who, left alone with her thoughts, rehashes all her options until she's shredded to pieces. None of it matters. Her life has become a series of reactions and that’s it. The moment he needs her, she's there nursing him without the desire to be. She still hated him with everything in her, and this place was covered with reminders of that. It was inescapable.

His lucidness was as welcome as it was unwelcome. A companion of any kind eased some of the loneliness, but his attempts at conversation left Sakura feeling angry and tired. He maintained that he didn't remember anything when she questioned him about Akatsuki, their base locations, and Tobi. It was very clever given she wanted him only for information at this point. She's sure he's just dragging this out until he was strong enough to run. Another inevitable scenario to worry over.

It's that theory that has her still being uncharacteristically rude to him. She gives one-word answers or none at all whenever possible.

Eventually, he stops asking, taking the hint that she won't answer, and just starts talking out loud, puzzling through any memories he can. It's little things: a particular drill he ran in training as a boy, learning his first Jutsu, the smell his mother had. Most are about training, to her surprise, like he'd spent most of his time doing only that, but his mother began to appear more and more. It didn't matter to her, she told herself. Just the sound of his voice alone grates on her ears, and she grinds her teeth and the monotony of it. She's never hated anyone this much that even that is irksome to her.

But one day, she wakes up, his words are drawn out, sloppy, and stop making sense at all. An infection kept up on them, and it bottoms out her stomach. If she lost him now, none of this was worth anything. She wasn't worth anything!

His words become very important

then because if he was speaking, he was surviving. She asks him as many questions as she can think of as she cares for him, though it's all delivered in a clinical tone.

Can you sit up for me? Yes. What's your favorite color? Pink. Think harder, please. Oh, right, blue. Do you have any persistent chills? Yes. What's your favorite food? Dango. How's your headache? Worse. What’s your birthday? Its in June, I think. Lay back down for me? Okay. Favorite birthday present? Breakfast my brother made me.

She stills at that, pulling the cool, damp cloth from his forehead. He'd never once mentioned Sasuke, and her surprise at him remembering shown was mirrored on his face.

"I had...a brother." He murmurs, his fevered face looking up at hers. "Sasuke."

For the first time, she nods in confirmation at a memory of his. He nods back at her as well.

"For my birthday one year, he made me breakfast. But mother wouldn't let him use the stove, so he took the rice leftover from dinner and pressed it into rice balls for me."

Sakura catches herself staring and dips the cloth in cold water again, wringing it out and dabbing it against his warm forehead.

"He woke me up by jumping on my bed...One of them rolled off the plate and ... onto the floor...We had to split the last one." He’s far away, speech slowing, and that scares her. His eyes slide closed.

"Itachi?" She says a bit too quickly. He doesn't respond. "Itachi."

He looks at her through heavy eyelids, making eye contact for the first time in days—her fault, of course.

"What else happened?" She asks softly, staring for the first time this intently into his depthless eyes. He blinked, and they turned glassy.

"I don't know, but... Suddenly I feel like crying."

Sakura bites her lip, dabbing the cloth at his temple, then over the trail of tears rolling from his eyes.

"I think I love my brother very much." He says, and she sees in his face that he does... or did.

"So did I." She whispers, and his brow furrows. The tense of it is another question she doesn't ask herself. Instead, she cooks the cloth again and asks, "Would you like to hear one of my stories about Sasuke?"

It's hard to maintain hate for someone whose wellbeing is the sole purpose of your life, Sakura finds. That or she was just growing to like him after all. The stronger he got, the more of a real personality started to emerge. He was polite and kind in a constant way that was becoming harder and harder to believe was an act. It was little things, really, like when he stopped her from killing a spider, and she had to let it outside instead.

After the night of fevered delirium, their conversation had become less stilted. He still didn't remember much about Akatsuki or his time after the massacre but learning about his childhood made him unavoidably human.

"My father and I didn't get along." He admitted one day in conversation. He couldn't remember details out of thin air, but once he started down a train of thought, things came to him in the same context. His father didn't often come up.

She nodded for him to continue, but his brow furrowed, and he looked away. Sometimes she knew he was holding back, like now, but why was still a mystery.

"Can you not remember?" She offers, adjusting her seat on the bed.

"That's not it." His eyes are trained on the floor. She waits for him to continue if he'd like but doesn't press. "We didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things. He had very high expectations."

"I can imagine. He oversaw your whole clan, so I'm sure the pressure was -"

"You don’t know what you’re talking about." Itachi cuts in, tone steely cold.

She stiffens. He'd never raised his voice at her once in the weeks they'd been here, and for the first time in a while, she feels wary of him.

"He made me kill a man at 7 years old." Rage sizzled in his voice, but Sakura could only see shame in his eyes. She leaned back in surprise. "It was a traitor among the Uchiha, one of my own clansmen. My father wouldn't tell me what he'd done to deserve death but placed the kunai in my had anyway. He said it was my duty to protect the clan at all costs, even from traitors inside of it. I begged him not to make me. Then he beat me until I agreed.”

Sakura felt sick and presses her fingers into her lips, wondering just what kind of man Fugaku really was.

“I was too weak to hold the kunai myself, so he squeezed his hand around mine. It felt so small in his. He'd only ever shown love to me with those hands. Small gestures like a pat on my back or head. But that day, he beat me and held my hand so tight it hurt and forced me to press a kunai into my own relative's neck until it bled, and he died."

His hands curled into fists that shook as the words finished pouring out of him. Sakura hesitates, unsure what to say to him, but her hand reaches out to cover his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He lets out a breath, threading her delicate fingers with his.

She wonders if he’s misremembering or rewriting his memories into something he can live with. He’d killed every one of his clansmen, so what if he was mixing two memories together? But the emotion in his face, maybe she was too naïve, but it felt too raw to be anything but the truth.

“The more I remember about my life, the less I want to. I’m coming to realize most of it was filled with regret.” His hand clenches hers. “ All I feel is powerlessness. I just want it all to end.”

“Don’t say that.” She commands, scooting closer toward him on the futon. Her purpose had become to keep that from happening, but she wonders if he’d already tried to sending Sasuke after him like he had. She wonders if he’d try again given the chance.

“Why shouldn’t I want to die?” He’s dejected, almost resigned. “I know I’m a murderer. How can someone redeem themselves from what I’ve done? I can’t even remember all of it, but I see the way you look at me and know there are worse things hiding inside my head.”

The pity in her face and the fact that she can’t meet his eyes confirms his suspicions. Itachi recoils from her at the realization, disgust marring his graceful features. This mouth draws tight at the corners, jaw jumping under his skin and he looks away.

"I don't think I deserve to still be breathing. I feel that more every day. I see your face and feel..." He breathes in through his nose and then out in a whoosh. He looks at her again and says, "So undeserving."

If she didn't know the whole story, she might have contradicted him, but she does. Many terrible things had happened because of Itachi Uchiha. But the man capable of doing those things and the man holding her hand now couldn’t be more opposite. She made the decision to be here, so he deserved something from her. The person she knew, or rather the gentle person he was without his memories, deserved to live.

So what if his story was true? What if this is who he was before whatever he had endured as a child made the way he was? Was there more to the story, things out of his control? If he was just a boy who’d suffered abuse until he snapped, Sakura knew she could forgive him for just about anything. She’d forgiven Sasuke for the very similar reasons.

Itachi shrinks a bit more into himself in her contemplative silence. All she can see now is now small and lost he looks, a little boy who just needed someone’s help. Her help. It tugs at her until her fingers curl around his cheek, and he leans into it. Her touch was familiar and comforting now after so much time caring for him. It is quiet for a moment longer.

"You should have left me in that inn and gone home." He finally says into her palm.

She shakes her head but realizes he can’t see it with his eyes screwed shut. "I couldn't do it."

From the way his brows droop, she knows he understands that she had tried. Shame clutches her stomach.

"Why not?" he murmurs, compelled to even if he believes the answer will be unpleasant.

She can't answer, but he gives her plenty of time to. What could she possibly say to that? Even to her, the truth was tangled together with the dozens of rationalizations she’d made so that she could look herself in the mirror every day without hating herself. And those were so impersonal, it would only hurt him more if she did.

He finally speaks again. "We've discussed many things but never how I fit into your life." Her hand drops from his cheek, but he catches it, dark eyes finally opening. This he's not letting this go as easily as the rest. "What are we? Colleagues? Friends?"

There’s an innocence to him believing they could have been friends that again has her stomach in knots. She doesn’t want to think about it or how far she’d gone for him despite what they were.

She tries to lean back. The space between them grown too small to fit his questions and the weight of his stare. He stops that too, hand coming to the back of her neck – firm, but not so hard she can’t break free if she wants. He’s constantly asking her closer so he can actually see her expressions. She tells herself that’s all this was.

"Why are you so invested in me, Sakura?" His eyes jump between her own. When he could see clearly, his eyes never stayed still.

Again, she doesn't have an answer but finds her chest rising and falling quickly, adrenaline tingling inside. It must not be from fear, because she doesn’t feel like running. She’s sure she should feel like running.

Instead she’s drawn forward.

"I can't remember you at all, no matter how hard I try." His eyes trailed her cheek, to the pulse hammering in her neck. His thumb brushes away her hair from the spot. Her cheeks heat. "There must be something, because I...feel something for you. It’s frustrating not remembering why or what you feel for me."

Feel something? What did that mean? She swallows, lips parting after. It catches his attention and his always moving eyes still. Reacting without thinking, her's fall to his now, and even if he hadn’t moved yet, she wondered if they would begin to dip forward. She wondered if with his thumb brushing her neck and his eyes on her lips if he was thinking about kissing her.

Finally, the missing instinct to run hits her full force.

"There's nothing to remember." She says quickly, stopping whatever it was he’d been considering. He finds her eyes again, questioning her. This was too close. She can feel his warm breath on her face, and as she inhaled she could taste the sweet and herbal he’d drank on her tongue. "We never met before I found you."

His forehead creases. "I don't understand. Why would you care for me like this if I was a stranger to you?"

"I don't know." A prickling pressure builds behind her eyes. She doesn’t know anything. Everything she was had spiraled so far out of her control that she was thinking about him without any hate in her heart. With something else in her heart entirely. "It just happened."

"Something like this doesn’t just happen.”

This? There is no this. There is nothing more to this than getting some intel and then going back to her life like it never happened. But she’s faced with the how impossible all that was now and her head spins.

She’d have to tell everyone where she had been. No lie she tried to spin could possibly explain her absence or Itachi’s reappearance for that matter. Sasuke would be furious. He’d never forgive her, let alone love her. And for what? For what was she doing all of this?

“I’m just your brother’s teammate. That’s it.” She breaks away from him, quickly shifting to her knees and springing to her feet. What the hell was she doing?

“I see.” He says in that quiet way he does when he’s sifting through his memories for more information. His hands fall to his lap. “Sasuke’s…”

Sakura turns her back and leaves. She was Sasuke’s, but she’s realizing not once in her life was he ever hers. At this point, she doubted he ever would be.

#do no harm au #part 1 #itasaku #will edit later!

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

A Thirst Like Flames

Part 6/6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

Ship: Gerlion - Rated: E (for smut) - Also on AO3

Rated E - for smutty reasons.

Dandelion shivered as he wrapped his heavy burgundy red cloak around his shoulders. Kaer Morhen had some of the most beautiful views in the continent but it was bloody freezing. It was his first day at the keep and he had yet to meet the other witchers, too exhausted when he’d first arrived, barely conscious as Geralt dragged him through the gates. One bath and a good nap later, he felt more like himself again. If not a little nervous, not too dissimilar to stage fright he’d experience in his youth. His heart felt like it was racing in his chest and his fingers tugged at his clothes, needing something to do.

The sound of his footsteps reverberated in the draft halls, the acoustics just perfect for a performance. Dandelion made a note to bring his lute down to dinner once they’d settled in. Geralt’s family had probably heard of him, maybe even heard his songs through other, less talented, bards, but Geralt was the only witcher from Kaer Morhen that he’d had the pleasure to meet.

And oh it certainly was a pleasure.

The scent of cooking venison filled his nose as he drew closer to the kitchens, making his stomach rumble in anticipation, and he could hear the sounds of laughter.

“Ah, found them,” he cheered to himself, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The feathered bonnet that was usually perched on his head had been left behind in Geralt’s room, instead the thick woollen hood was keeping his ears warm, and completely messing up his hair.

Dandelion had hoped that he would look his best when meeting Geralt’s family, but alas the cold had rather scuppered that dream. So, he took a deep breath and held his head up high before entering the room. As expected the witchers fell silent, Geralt’s eyes found his across the room, and it was easy to get lost in his gorgeous golden gaze. Dandelion winked at his witcher before turning to the rest of the room. There were more witchers there than Dandelion had been anticipating. Geralt had only told him about three other remaining Wolf School witchers, Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert. The silver haired witcher resting closest to the fire with a book in his hand was most likely Vesemir. Another golden eyed witcher who bore a striking resemblance to Geralt, aside from the vicious scar that ran across his cheek and his dark brown hair, was probably Eskel. That left a third witcher with golden eyes, who he assumed to be Lambert, and two others. One had long flowing dark brown hair, and startling blue eyes, the other bald with a thick dark beard and green eyes. The latter two both had dark tanned skin that was striking in comparison the chalky white skin of the Wolf witchers.

“Greetings, I am so sorry I’m late. I do hope that Geralt wasn’t too much of a grump without me,” he flashed a charming grin at the occupants of the room.

Lambert burst into fits of laughter and stood up, pulling Dandelion into a tight hug, lifting him off the floor. The air was forced from his lungs and he squeaked as his legs were suddenly dangling in the air, but warmth bloomed in his chest. Lambert was supposed the most prickly out of Geralt’s family, and Dandelion had apparently won him over purely by teasing his own grump of a witcher.

“I like this one, Geralt. He can stay,” Lambert laughed as he dropped Dandelion back to the floor.

“Ah, why thank you, Lambert.”

“Geralt was inconsolable, pacing the floor, pulling his hair out. If he hadn’t already gone grey….”

Geralt growled from the corner which set Lambert off again. “Shut up.”

“Oh bite me,” Lambert snapped back.

“Boys!” The elder witcher, who Dandelion was sure was Vesemir, barked and the two younger wolf witchers fell silent. “We have a guest, try not to act like animals.”

“Well-” Eskel started to say with a crooked grin, “-we are wolves.”

Dandelion giggled and strutted across the room until he reached Geralt’s chair. The seat next to his witcher was vacant but it didn’t matter. Dandelion fell into Geralt’s lap, pressing his lips to his cheek. “I think it’s sweet that you were worried about me, darling. Now then, are you going to introduce me?”

“They know who you are, Dandelion.”

Dandelion scoffed and rolled his eyes, running his hands through Geralt’s hair. It was surprisingly untangled, still soft and well conditioned despite the hike up the mountain. As he carded his fingers through the silver locks, Dandelion could smell the gentle scent of chamomile, the oil that he’d bought for Geralt on their first anniversary before their journey to Kaer Morhen. His usual lavender oil was too strong for Geralt’s heightened sense of smell, but the chamomile was subtle enough and helped to calm the witcher even when he was high on those blasted potions.

He began to separate the strands of Geralt’s hair, fingers working nimbly as he continued to speak. “They may know me, but I am afraid I wasn’t quite in my right mind when I arrived. I only know of your family, dearest, and unless I’m very much mistaken. I’m not the only visitor this year?”

“Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert you know,” Geralt gestured to the golden eyed witchers in turn. “Aiden,” he pointed to the blue-eyed man who had now settled onto the seat next to Lambert and was happily draped across the man’s lap. “Coën.” The green-eyed witcher smiled back at him. “And this is Dandelion, my bard.”

“I am absolutely thrilled to finally get to meet you,” Dandelion cooed at the witchers, not bothering to look at the braid in his hands. He’d done this so many times that he could probably do all but the most complex designs in his sleep. When he wasn’t playing his lute or scribbling away in his notebooks, he often needed something to do with his hands. Otherwise he felt restless. Geralt had noticed and suggested the braids. Dandelion had tried, and was still trying, to get his witcher to let him curl his hair, but Geralt was being stubborn about it. “Geralt has told me so much about you,” he lied.

Eskel chuckled. “That would be a first.”

“And probably a last too,” Lambert agreed.

“Fuck off,” Geralt grumbled and Dandelion giggled, poking his witcher’s nose with one elegant long finger.

“Be nice to your brothers, Geralt-” he chided before brushing his lips against Geralt’s ear, “-or else we won’t get to enjoy that fantastically large bed of yours later.”

The other witchers in the room all groaned, just as Dandelion had suspected they might, but he played innocent and smiled brightly up at them all, launching into a tirade of questions to divert their attention. Kaer Morhen was fascinating and Dandelion wanted to know everything! He was particularly curious as to why there were two witchers from other schools in the keep. There was just so much potential in just this one room! Dandelion’s reputation as the White Wolf’s bard and poet was about to get a makeover, he would be the barker for witchers everywhere!

The evening passed in merriment, music and mirth. Wine and liquor were spilled, and the roast venison was simply to die for. Dandelion kept a hand on Geralt at all times, in his hair, resting on his thigh, his arm, his shoulder. After a year together, Dandelion still couldn’t quite believe that he was allowed to love this beautiful, kind and generous man, and that he was loved in return, but Geralt showed his love and devotion every day.

It wasn’t poetry and roses like Dandelion was used to, but it was Geralt’s own unique language of love that Dandelion delighted in learning, and he’d always been a quick study.

No, Geralt’s love was more heartfelt than any superficial trinkets or flowers that would die. It was woven into the very essence of Dandelion’s lute, each note the instrument played, every word that fell from his lips. The love shone in the stars above their camp as they cuddled together for warmth, Dandelion’s chest pressed to Geralt’s back as their limbs tangled together. It was in the breath of each kiss, the swing of his swords.

Geralt’s love was all encompassing and it was his.

Or perhaps he was merely a poet in love.

What did it matter? The result was the same. They were happy together, despite the darkness in the world around them, there was light, like the flames that danced in the hearth as Vesemir began to snore.

Dandelion sighed, rubbing his nose along Geralt’s jaw and kissing his neck. “Time for bed, my love?”

Geralt grunted and swept Dandelion up into his arms. The world spun and Dandelion squeaked as he hurried to fling his arms around Geralt’s neck, not that he thought Geralt would drop him, but, well, it was always better to be safe, and it gave him an excellent excuse to continue kiss the pale skin of Geralt’s neck. The bruises never lasted more than an hour but it didn’t mean that Dandelion couldn’t try. He giggled as he nipped at the skin below the witcher’s ear.

“Would you two get a room?” Lambert groaned.

“Oi,” Aiden swatted his boyfriend over the head, “don’t be a spoilsport, we could always watch.”

Dandelion winked at the Cat witcher, making Lambert flush a deep red. “Out!” he barked.

“With pleasure,” Geralt chuckled, carrying Dandelion through the halls and back up to their room.

It didn’t take them long to disrobe, lips moving in slow languid kisses as they caressed and touched and held each other close. Dandelion’s fingers hooked under the chain of Geralt’s medallion, the only item left between them, and he held the silver wolf in his hand before kissing the cold metal. The witcher shivered as the medallion once again rested on his chest and Dandelion moved on to kiss the pale pink scars that covered his shoulders.

“I love you, dearest Geralt,” Dandelion hummed, and Geralt’s finger hooked under his chin, lifting his head so their lips once again met in a soft kiss.

They’d made love before, but this was Geralt’s room, not some shit-hole of an inn, or in the exposed elements of nature’s forests. This was a home, more importantly, it was Geralt’s home, and he was honoured to finally be a part of it. There was a whole new level of intimacy which warmed Dandelion’s heart, like the sun rising over the horizon, flowers blooming in the spring and fluttering cries of the birds to bring in each new day.

Geralt lifted him up, carrying him towards the bed and Dandelion could feel the anticipation, lust and arousal begin to cloud his mind in a dizzying haze. His witcher was looking at him with the utmost adoration and oh did that make his heart sing. As his back hit the mattress, Geralt stopped and stared at him, a calloused finger brushing against his cheek. It was almost too much, burning in its intensity.

Dandelion let out a nervous giggle, leaning into his lover’s touch. “What is it, my dear?”

Geralt just shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Poppycock,” Dandelion declared, reaching up to capture Geralt’s lips in a quick kiss. “Tell me, darling.”

“You look beautiful.”

Dandelion felt himself blush. His hair was fanned out behind his head and he was sure his face was the colour of the sweetest roses but he was nothing extraordinary, certainly nothing that Geralt hadn’t seen before. Yet this fire that burned between them felt entirely new, and his witcher’s expression was so tender, so heartfelt.

“You look beautiful,” Dandelion echoed, and then because he was a poet. “Radiant as the sun, and as ethereal as the moon, my darling, my dearest, my… hmmph!”

Geralt cut off his ramblings with a kiss and Dandelion wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, pulling him closer. They had time to savour every moment, every touch, every kiss. They had forever.

#the witcher #geraskier #gerlion #geralt x dandelion #geralt/dandelion #wolfie's witcher writing

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wordsablaze · 4 years

Text

4~ i’ll stand there so brave

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: so this took me a while to update but you can blame the sun for being too warm for me to function... yay summer (!)

@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @cloudspeck @in-love-with-writing002 @screaming-flapjacks @booboomuffin

previous chapter

They reach the next town a few hours before nightfall.

Jaskier perks up as soon as they see an inn, all but jumping to the ground and almost toppling over entirely in his haste. He manages to carefully take down his lute before Eskel has even brought Scorpion to a stop.

“I’ll get us a room!” he declares before promptly freezing on the spot, looking up at Eskel as if waiting for permission.

Eskel sighs inwardly but smiles as softly as he can make himself. “Sounds good.”

It’s obvious Jaskier was wondering if Eskel would even want to share a room with him and somehow, that thought stings more than most injuries he’s faced on the path. Because of course he does, there’s no reason for him not to.

He’s glad it’s almost dark because it means the stableboy doesn’t have a chance to be scared off by his scars, simply promising to ensure Scorpion is taken care of properly.

“Go find a corner, darling,” Jaskier whispers to him as soon as he enters the inn, gently pushing him towards one of the walls.

Before he can even think to ask if there’s a room available, Jaskier has started performing, his voice carrying perfectly across the rather large room and causing most people to at least turn to look at him, if not start smiling or singing along.

Eskel doesn’t recognise the song but it seems plenty of people do because there are soon enough drinks going round for one of the barmaids to place on in front of him with a smile. “Free of charge, as promised.”

“Promised?” Eskel echoes, frowning.

She frowns back for a split second before nodding her head at Jaskier, who’s currently moving around the room to take requests. “You’re with him, right?”

Eskel nods.

“Well then, as we promised him: food and drink with no charge if he can liven the place up.”

She disappears to serve someone else before Eskel can thank her so he just accepts the ale and sits back, tracking Jaskier as he switches songs after stopping by two young women who look like they’re on the verge of tears.

They’re laughing by the time the song - something about a princess slaying the beast instead of being rescued from it - has finished, as much to Jaskier’s credit as it is to Eskel’s amazement.

“Play the one about coins!” someone shouts.

“Yeah, let’s hear about the devil!”

“Go on, bard!”

Eskel bristles as Jaskier pauses, biting his lip hard enough to break the skin that had barely healed from before; apparently, it’s some kind of nervous habit of his.

For a moment, Eskel thinks Jaskier will refuse. But then Jaskier exhales slowly and grins. “Why, of course! A great choice to end the evening!”

His ale - both the first and second mugs - long since finished, Eskel focuses entirely on Jaskier.

“When a humble bard…”

Focuses on the way he’s the perfect picture of professional.

Focuses on how his fingers play the right tune but his heart so clearly isn’t in it, not that anyone seems to pick up on that as they laugh or sing along, a few of them even tossing coins Jaskier’s way as he passes them.

Focuses on how there's something so brave in Jaskier singing about someone who'd hurt him so deeply. And not only that, but he's doing it to support witchers despite everything - it seems only logical to be impressed.

“A friend of humanity… ” Jaskier finishes, bowing ceremoniously as he grabs his lute case from he’d propped it up to keep it safe.

Moments later, he rather unceremoniously collapses into the seat opposite Eskel.

“You okay there, bardling?” Eskel asks softly, once he’s sure there are no prying eyes left.

Jaskier nods, but the way he lets his head fall onto the table between them says otherwise.

He stays in that position until two plates of food are placed on their table, at which point he sits up straight and positively beams at the woman who’d brought them. “Our most sincere gratitude for keeping your promise.”

She laughs, glancing between the two of them. “The gratitude is mutual.”

Eskel smiles at her. “Thank you.”

“Is that basil?” Jaskier asks incredulously, surprising both Eskel and the woman, who nods slowly, as if expecting a complaint.

But Jaskier only grins cheekily. “I shall have to write a ballad in my gratitude to your hospitality and whoever is in charge of your skilled kitchens.”

The woman blushes before grabbing Eskel’s empty mug, muttering something about it being their pleasure before leaving them to their food. And as soon as she’s gone, Jaskier lets his head fall back onto the table.

“Jaskier?” Eskel asks, briefly worrying if there’s a hidden injury he should know about.

Jaskier groans softly but sits back up again with a small and oddly insincere smirk. “I believe that’s what most people call me, yes.”

This time, Eskel can tell exactly how much Jaskier is affected by having to relive Posada, even if he doesn’t always show it. But he doesn’t want to address it, knowing that it might mean Jaskier shuts himself off again. Or worse, decides not to travel with him after all.

Instead, he gestures to their plates. “Aren’t you going to try the basil?”

Jaskier blinks slowly before laughing, the shadows in his expression halfway replaced with amusement. “Only if we both do, darling,” he agrees.

And so they do.

It seems neither of them are used to taking their time, though, because the inn is still relatively buzzing by the time they’ve both finished their very satisfying meals.

“There’s someone with a siren problem that wants to meet you tomorrow,” Jaskier tells him as they make their way upstairs.

“What?” Eskel tilts his head to the right, confused.

Jaskier is immediately surrounded by waves of panic. “Oh, gods, I didn’t mean to assume you’d want to take the contract or anything. I was just- I mean, she’s the one that came to me and I thought you- But we can just, uh, decline if you already had plans or-”

“It’s okay, Jaskier, I’m not mad,” Eskel interrupts, placing a hand on Jaskier’s arm.

He doesn’t know what he’d expected but he hadn’t predicted that Jaskier would melt the same way his panic does, letting out a soft sigh as he leans into the touch.

“Which room is ours?” Eskel asks, not really wanting to continue this conversation, or any other one for that matter, where they could be overhead.

Jaskier instantly snaps out of his guilty daze and leads them to the room he’d gotten them, a smaller one with only a bed and a window. But it’s still better than nothing at such late notice and Eskel is grateful for it.

“Did she tell you it was a siren?” Eskel asks eventually, not liking the uneasy silence between them.

Jaskier looks almost startled to be addressed but then shakes his head. “Not exactly, but there aren’t exactly a lot of creatures that specialise in luring handsome men away with songs in the middle of the night, are there?”

Taking a risk, Eskel smirks. “You would know better than I, bardling.”

“What? I wouldn’t know more than you witchers even if- hey!” Jaskier’s confusion transforms into an affronted pout as he folds his arms. “I do not lure anyone anywhere. It’s hardly my fault if they offer me their company, is it?”

Eskel is just glad Jaskier hadn’t taken offence. He’s also pretty surprised that his idea of a joke had matched someone else’s idea of a joke but he’s aware it might just be Jaskier and his rather unique personality.

“If you say so,” Eskel settles for.

Jaskier grumbles and throws his doublet at Eskel, who barely manages to catch it despite his enhanced reflexes.

But as soon as he does, Jaskier’s eyes widen and he steps closer to Eskel. “Wait no, don’t crumple it!”

“You’re the one who threw it,” Eskel points out, bemused.

Jaskier pouts again, and Eskel swears that no other man would be capable of looking so childish in such a surprisingly dignified way.

But he throws it back anyway. Or rather, hands it back, since Jaskier is close enough to do so. He’s also close enough for Eskel to feel the surprised relief that radiates from him as he carefully folds the doublet and places it atop his lute case.

It hadn’t struck Eskel until now that Jaskier doesn’t have any other belongings with him. But now he feels self-conscious at having two bags worth of possessions where Jaskier only has a lute, even though he knows that he needs the potions and the spare clothes and the extra room for rations.

And Jaskier must have pulled the shirt he’d given to Eskel from somewhere , right? Eskel figures he’d stashed his belongings somewhere before they’d set off and resolves to ask him about them later.

“Are you going to keep your armour on all night?” Jaskier asks after a minute or so of Eskel being rooted in the same spot.

Truth be told, he was just wondering whether they’d share the bed again.

“You know, I’ve heard that sleeping is far more comfortable when you’re not covered in spikes,” Jaskier continues, smirking again.

Eskel makes a face at that but Jaskier only takes it as an invitation, helping him out of his armour before pulling him to the bed and flopping down onto it, raising an eyebrow up at him. “Care to join me?”

“No,” Eskel replies just for the sake of it, “move over.”

Jaskier laughs before doing exactly that, folding his arms under his head as he shifts his gaze to the ceiling and Eskel settles besides him.

“You don’t mind, do you? That I arranged a potential contract on your behalf?” Jaskier asks softly, still staring at the ceiling.

Eskel shakes his head, wondering how Jaskier doesn’t know that it makes life so much easier to have a middle man in the equation. But then he remembers that Geralt is probably responsible for Jaskier not knowing how valuable his social skills are.

Honestly, he’s never wanted to hit someone so badly.

“Of course not,” Eskel replies, wishing he could explain better but still not quite used to the whole talking-for-so-long thing.

Jaskier smiles regardless and turns so he’s facing Eskel, already curling closer to him. “And you won’t leave before I wake up?”

Eskel suspects Jaskier is either a little more tired or a little more drunk than he’d intended to be so he just humours him and shakes his head. “No, I won’t. I’ll be here,” he promises.

Almost like a child, Jaskier nods, shuffling even closer. “Thank you, Eskel.”

The warmth that spreads through Eskel is most likely due to Jaskier’s presence rather than his words because why would someone using his name be powerful enough to change his body temperature?

Jaskier is filled with so much trust, Eskel notes, that he falls asleep within a few minutes. And it amazes him as much as it saddens him for he can’t imagine why Geralt would give up someone so awfully kind at heart.

But he doesn’t want to think of his brother’s idiocy unless he absolutely has to, which he currently doesn’t, so he just wraps an arm around Jaskier and closes his eyes.

It’s definitely strange to have someone choose to be as close to him as possible, especially when they’re both at their most vulnerable, but he can’t deny the smile on his face that only the darkness will ever see.

He also can’t deny one of the best nights of sleep he’s ever had.

i lowkey feel they get more ooc every time i write them, oops. sorry about that...

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher sideblog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

#jaskel #jaskier x eskel #witcher eskel #jaskier the bard #the witcher #netflix the witcher #fanfic #fanfiction #slow burn #it seems that way anyway #soft eskel #hurt jaskier #post rare species #getting to know each other #fluff and angst #insecure jaskier #canon who?#my writing #tmypicta

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lantur · 4 years

Text

royai week 2020: day four, “crackle”

summary: The Colonel and the Lieutenant have an unusually candid conversation.

rated: t for teen

tags: pre-canon

words: 4384 | read on ao3

Identifying and interviewing candidates for the State Alchemist program requires travel all over the Eastern area of Amestris. A lot of soldiers - hell, even most of Roy’s unit - dislike travel. They’re reluctant to leave the comforts of home and put up with questionable accommodations and questionable food, not to mention the practical annoyances. The long rides in trains that are either too hot or too cold, and the inevitable delayed connections that turn a four-hour trip, one way, into a six-hour trip.

Roy loves to travel. He always has, ever since he had been a kid accompanying his aunt on trips outside of Central to meet with her network from outside of the capital city. The inconveniences are, well, inconvenient, but they don’t bother him much. They are considerably outweighed by the fascination of seeing the rest of the country firsthand; striking up conversations with locals (or overhearing conversations between locals) and listening to them talk about how they live, about what their thoughts and concerns are.

Employment is an issue in the northeastern sector of the East Area, and has been ever since the mines closed. Import of food and other necessities to the southwestern area is sketchy and unreliable. The farthest west areas of the Eastern region have a significant problem with drug-related crime, due to its proximity to Central. Roy notes all of this down in his travel journal during the train rides for later reference.

I like to keep my finger on the pulse of the people, he tells his unit. They agree that his phrasing is “a little creepy,” but also agree that this genuine interest in the populace is what makes him a good leader.

This month’s trip has taken Roy and his Lieutenant to Liore, near the border of the North Area. It’s quite a bit colder than it had been in East City, even though it’s hardly a week into October. Their appointment with this potential State Alchemist candidate - Robert Gotha - is at eight the following morning, leaving them with just about twelve hours of downtime when they check into their inn.

The rooms are side-by-side on the first floor. All Roy wants is a hot shower and dinner, in that order, but Riza insists on doing a sweep of his room first, as she always does, and making him wait outside for his own security.

“Nobody outside of Grumman’s office and our unit knew of our travel plans,” Roy points out, risking her displeasure by opening the front door a crack. Riza is inspecting the interior of the room’s small closet. “There are no explosives under the bed or under the sink. I’m willing to bet that there are no assassins hiding in the bathtub, either.”

She throws him a glance, and a frown. “You never know, sir. You remember Major Rosen. The bomb was strapped to the back of his nightstand. We shouldn’t take any chances.”

Roy does remember Philip Rosen, the Bone Alchemist, blown to bits a year and a half ago by a survivor of the Ishvalan massacre. He nods, somewhat abashed. “I appreciate your diligence, Hawkeye.”

“Of course, Colonel. Now, please close the door. You can wait in my room, if you want to set your things down somewhere.”

Riza’s room is even smaller than his. Maybe the reminder of the Bone Alchemist’s fate had set him on edge, but Roy walks the perimeter of her room, checking in the bathroom, pulling the closet door open. The last thing he needs is for someone who planned on attacking him to find Riza instead. Everything seems safe, but drafty, and he frowns, noting the lack of fireplace in the room.

Riza returns in a few minutes, and draws her coat closer around herself the moment she walks in. “Clear,” she says. “The locks are flimsy. I suggest bracing your chair against the door, just in case.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Your room is secure too.” He sees the surprise on her face, and he’s rewarded with a small smile. “It’s cold, though. You don’t have a fireplace. Do you want to switch?”

Riza shakes her head. “That won’t be necessary. I sleep better when the temperature is a little lower.”

“At least have dinner and do your paperwork with me, then.” Roy walks to the door. “Your food will go cold in a couple of minutes if you eat it here.”

Riza hesitates, and then nods. “Thank you. I’ll go get dinner for us now.”

He doesn’t have to tell her what he would like. She already has his preferences memorized, as he does for her. Roy gives her the key to his room, and the first thing he does when stepping in is to light a fire in the fireplace. It warms the room instantly, and he sighs with relief.

The shower has dreadfully weak water pressure, but at least it’s hot. Roy towels his hair dry, pulls on a pair of dark pants and a white button-down shirt, and then steps out, releasing a wall of steam into the small room. Riza looks up from her paperwork. She had changed into civilian clothes too, a long skirt and a white button-down like his, and settled into one of the armchairs near the fireplace. The warm glow of the firelight does lovely things to the color of her eyes and hair, loose around her shoulders. The heat brings a faint blush to her cheeks. It isn’t the first time he’s seen her sitting in front of a fire, but the sight never gets old.

“I bought kebabs with chicken, eggplant, and bell pepper.” Riza gestures to the foil-wrapped package in the chair across from her. “I had mine already. It was even better than the ones we had last month in Meox.”

Roy flings himself down in the chair, unwrapping the kebabs. They smell wonderful, and he’s glad that they had opted against the cold sandwiches sold on the train. “But are they as good as yours?”

Riza continues writing, and a tiny smirk touches her lips. “No.”

Roy wolfs down his dinner, making no effort to be decorous. “Why do I have all this paperwork on this table next to me?” he says, with his mouth full. “Isn’t it enough that I spent all of this morning and afternoon in meetings that could have been memos?”

“It’s because you spent all of this morning and afternoon in meetings, instead of getting any work done. And because you refused to make up for any of those hours while on the train, in favor of testing out that new long-distance radio with Havoc.”

Roy bites back a laugh at the memory of his and Havoc’s increasingly ridiculous codenames. “Right.” He balls up the foil packaging and tosses it into the garbage can in the corner of the room. “What are you working on, Hawkeye?”

“Figuring out your schedule for next week.” Riza taps her pen against the paper. “You have two weeks’ worth of meeting requests in one week’s time. I’m trying to make sure that you still have enough downtime to get your paperwork done.”

“Paperwork and downtime don’t go in the same sentence.” Roy picks up Breda’s most recent intelligence report and rifles through it. “Just plan on me working late on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. That should do it.”

Riza makes a note. “So, I assume I’ll be working late on those nights as well.”

“You assume correctly.” Riza gives him a displeased look, and Roy twirls his pen through his fingers, unable to resist teasing her. “What? Are you upset about missing out on the coming week’s date nights?”

“Hardly,” Riza says, impassive. “I figured that would be more of a concern for you.”

“It isn’t. I’m giving it up.”

Riza raises an eyebrow, managing, as always, to convey a great deal with that small gesture.

“I am,” Roy insists. “It’s all getting to be a little much. And it’s pointless.”

Riza raises both eyebrows, this time. “Pointless? With all due respect, this doesn’t sound like you.”

Roy shrugs, and the expression in Riza’s eyes softens somewhat. “I’m sorry if you had a bad experience, sir.”

She’s speaking to him in the gentle, pitying way one would address the recently heartbroken. The same way she talks to Havoc, for heaven’s sake. Roy runs a hand through his hair, flustered. “It’s not like that, Lieutenant.”

Riza tilts her head to the side slightly, intrigued without pressing, and he has to elaborate. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant. But the women I’ve gone out with know of my rank and reputation. The Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Ishval,” -- Roy’s voice takes on a faintly mocking air -- “and the youngest Colonel in decades. I’m practically guaranteed to be a Brigadier General by the time I’m thirty-five, if I continue to play my cards right. Do you follow me?”

He sees a flicker of amusement in Riza’s eyes. “If I understand you correctly, you’re implying that your dates would prefer to be more than just dates.”

“Exactly. They don’t just want a couple of nights out. They want a real relationship, Hawkeye.” Roy sighs, rubbing his temples. “They want to be a General’s wife, someday, and live in a fancy house with large, manicured lawns, and a couple of nice cars, and a couple of nice kids that will go to Central’s best private school.”

Riza makes a sound that’s almost a laugh. “The dream.”

“I can’t provide that,” Roy says tersely. “I have no intentions of living that life. I have no intention of living a long one, after becoming Fuhrer and implementing the changes that we want. If there’s any justice at all, I’ll be held accountable for what I did in Ishval. I don’t want to leave a widow and a couple of kids behind. That’s not an option.”

Riza inclines her head. “That’s fair.”

He shrugs, momentarily lost for words. “It’s starting to feel...wrong, to take what I want from these women, when I know that there’s absolutely no chance of them getting what they want. They want the third date. They want the relationship. They want to be the girlfriend, and then the fiancee, and then the wife. And I’ll never make that happen.”

“So, nobody’s happy.”

“Basically. Which is why I’m finished with that.” Roy leans back in the armchair, stopping the pretense of working, setting his stack of paperwork on the side table. He regards her thoughtfully. “What about you?”

Riza tenses up slightly. “What about me, Colonel?”

“Oh, you know.” Roy waves a hand casually. “You may not be as highly ranked as I am, and you don’t have the reputation that I do outside of military circles, but you’re a beautiful young woman. That carries its own weight. I’m surprised you’re not beating men back with a stick. Or your pistols.”

He had intended it as a compliment, but Riza glances at her lap, momentarily downcast. “That’s it, sir. That’s all that men see when they look at me. Just another blonde that they’d like to buy a few drinks for, and then take home for the night.” She sounds resigned. “They don’t see me. It feels a little dehumanizing.”

This is all news to him, and Roy stiffens. It’s stupid, it’s hypocritical, to be so stricken by men doing the exact same thing to Riza that he’s done to other women.

“Even the nicer ones, the ones that ask me out to dinner first…” Riza trails off. “They don’t know about Ishval, and the things I did there. They don’t know the burden I carry.”

“Hmm.” Roy considers this. There’s still a knot in his chest at the idea of anyone being foolish and shallow enough to see his Lieutenant - thoughtful, empathetic, kind, intelligent Riza - as nothing more than a conquest. “You could tell them.”

Riza shakes her head, at once. “They wouldn’t understand. Or they would think I was a monster.” She pauses. “Similarly, I doubt they would understand my goals, and what I’ve dedicated my life to.”

Roy feels a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I figure that most men would struggle with the idea that their girlfriend spends every day, and some evenings and nights, in service of another man’s ambitions.”

“Exactly.” Riza looks at him steadily. “Besides, I’m in the same position as you. I intend to be held accountable for my actions in Ishval as well.”

They’ve talked - argued; even fought outright - about this before. About the fact that he has no intention of prosecuting her at the same level that he would seek for himself and the other State Alchemists. Riza’s entire kill count in Ishval had been a mere fraction of what his had been. She had vehemently disagreed with his position. “Hawkeye--”

Riza gives him a quelling look, and Roy falls silent. “I don’t want to leave behind a husband or children, either,” she says. “I don’t want to be in a relationship that will go nowhere. That can go nowhere. It seems dishonest - like I would be holding the other person back from the happiness and uncomplicated life they deserve. I would rather dedicate myself fully to work.”

Somehow, with everything else they have in common, he’s not surprised that they share this perspective as well. “We’re both in a similar predicament, then.”

Riza exhales slowly, and then looks into the fireplace, at the flames crackling there. She looks so far away all of a sudden.

“What is it?” Roy asks, and she glances at him, startled, as if she had forgotten he was there.

“Nothing, Colonel. It’s nothing.”

That piques his interest, and he leans forward. “Don’t lie to me, Lieutenant. It violates our unit’s code of conduct.”

Riza narrows her eyes at him, but finally, she gives in. “You pointed out that my commitment to you and our cause doesn’t leave much space for another man,” she says, but then she hesitates, and stops entirely.

“Well?” Roy prompts, his curiosity getting the better of him. Over the years, they’ve come to know one another so well - as well as they know themselves, he would guess - but this is the one thing they’ve never talked about before. About serious romantic entanglements, and their lack thereof.

“I’d rather not say.” Maybe it’s just the fire, but Riza’s complexion is a little warmer than it had been several minutes ago.

“Come on, Hawkeye.” Roy gives her his most charming smile; slides into his most persuasive tone. “My curiosity is killing me.”

Riza sniffs. “That sounds like a personal problem.”

“Unfair, Lieutenant. I told you what was on my mind.”

She sighs again, exasperated, a little resigned, keeping her eyes determinedly trained on the fire. “Fine. You know, you’re like a dog with a bone sometimes.”

“I am a dog of the military, after all,” Roy says sardonically, and his Lieutenant rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a significant figure in my life,” Riza says, at last. “And you have been, for so long. I worry that would open the door to...comparisons. That wouldn’t be fair to whoever else was trying to find a place in my life. ”

Well, he hadn’t expected that. The words are so unexpected, so sweet and so sad, that Roy blinks, lost for words. “Hawkeye,” he says, trying to inject some levity into his tone. “I’m flattered.”

Riza doesn’t have a dry retort for him. She just looks at him with somber eyes, and Roy relents. “I feel the same way.”

He doesn’t tell his Lieutenant that when he’s looking into his dates’ eyes, he expects to see amber-colored ones looking back at him. He doesn’t tell her that when he leans over to tuck a lock of hair behind their ears, he’s expecting to see her blonde locks against his fingertips. He doesn’t tell her that when they laugh at his jokes (usually too long and too loud for what the joke actually warranted) he expects to see her small, wry smile instead. Or an eye-roll, or that look she gives him sometimes, the one that mingles exasperation with affection.

He doesn’t tell her any of that. But from the expression on Riza’s face, he thinks that he doesn’t have to.

Roy clears his throat, breaking their gaze, looking into the fire. “Well, Lieutenant. I think our close professional relationship has put us in an unfortunate situation.”

“As always, you have a gift for understatement, Colonel.”

It had been a typical Hawkeye deadpan, but when Roy looks back, he sees a tiny, reluctant smile on her face. It gives him a shot of courage, or recklessness; he isn’t sure which yet.

“You know,” he muses, “I have a thought exercise for us to work through.”

Thought exercises - running through hypotheticals, from the mundane to the far-fetched - are one of his favorite things about leading his unit, and they are at least a once-weekly event when the unit is together in East City. Riza sets her pen down for the first time, giving him her full attention. “Yes?”

“It would solve a lot of problems if you and I could...”

Roy trails off, his meaning clear, and Riza sits up straighter.

It’s bold, even for him. It doesn’t just cross the line; it sprints across the line. It isn’t the kind of thing he would have said if they were back in East City. But the sheer distance from the imposing figure of Eastern Command, from superior officers, from anyone else who knows them and might see or overhear something they shouldn’t - that has opened doors. That all feels so far away, here in Liore, sitting by the fire in his room.

Riza shifts in her chair - not in discomfort, but consideration, drawing her legs underneath her, tucking them to the side. “It’s interesting that you think that. I think it would create a lot of problems.”

Her tone is mild, though, and there’s no hint of affront on her face at the outrageous suggestion. Riza seems utterly unfazed by being propositioned by her commanding officer. Which isn’t that surprising, now that Roy thinks about it. He has discussed treasonous plans to overthrow and overhaul the existing government with her for years. Compared to literal, actual treason, the prospect of a sexual relationship seems considerably less shocking.

Additionally, she hasn’t yet threatened to shoot him in the foot, which is promising. She hasn’t stopped this little thought exercise that he had started.

“I argue that it would solve more than it creates. We’re both unable to pursue relationships, due to the barriers we’ve discussed.” Roy straightens his collar, feeling rather like an attorney beginning opening arguments in a case. “On the other hand, you and I understand our situation perfectly. We know where our lives are headed and where they will end. We know that we aren’t looking for marriage and children.”

He doesn’t have to say the rest. We know one another and what we’ve done in the past better than anyone else could. There are so many conversations we don’t have to have with one another, that we would have to have with others.

The truth of what they are striving towards and why, and their vision for their personal futures and the future of Amestris. The years in Ishval and what they had seen and done there. The ugly truth behind the harmless, bloodless epithets of Flame Alchemist and Hawk’s Eye. The nightmares.

Riza inclines her head slightly, wordlessly allowing him to continue.

“Pursuing anything with anybody else would distract both of us from our goal, which isn’t an option.” Roy studies her, trying to judge her reaction.

His Lieutenant’s expression gives away nothing. “What makes you think we wouldn’t distract one another?”

“Because I know us, Hawkeye,” Roy replies patiently. “I know that there’s nothing we’re more committed to than reforming this country. You and I both know where this work ends. We always have. Nothing and no one is ever going to make us change our course.”

“That’s all true,” Riza says, her voice steady.

He hears the rest of her sentence, and sighs. “But?”

“There’s one issue you haven’t addressed. The anti-fraternization regulations.”

“Oh, that.” Roy dismisses her point with a shrug. “It’s not an issue.”

Riza glances skyward for a moment. “Please elaborate, Colonel.”

“The anti-fraternization regulations prohibit personal relationships between officers and enlisted members within the same chain of command, as they are prejudicial to good order and discipline,” Roy recites, with no effort. He and his Lieutenant are both very familiar with the regulations, after all. “Romantic relationships, cohabitation, and marriage fall within the umbrella of personal relationships. We wouldn't be living together. We wouldn't be getting married. And it wouldn’t be a romantic relationship, Hawkeye. It would just be--” He pauses, searching for the most tasteful word choice. “Some companionship, as we need it. To help us make our way down the long road we have ahead. And we would be discreet about it. Nobody would ever know.”

Riza props her chin in a hand, mulling it over, and Roy watches the firelight flickering in her eyes. “No pressure, of course,” he says, with an easiness he doesn’t feel. The adrenaline and boldness has worn off, leaving him with an uncharacteristic case of nerves. “It was just a thought exercise.”

Riza glances back at him and then stands up, gathering her paperwork. “I think I’ll turn in for the night, sir.” She sounds so calm and even, as if they had been discussing the logistics of how to implement democratic voting in the most rural areas of Amestris.

Roy stands automatically and opens the door for her. “Good night, then, Lieutenant.”

“Good night.”

Roy watches until she closes her door behind her; until he hears the lock click safely into place. He closes the door, locks it, braces a chair against it, as Riza had suggested. Then he collapses onto the bed and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, all the breath leaving his body in a long sigh. Hughes has always called him a risk-taker and chastised him for being impulsive. That’s nothing new. Tonight, though, he had taken that to an entirely new high. Or an entirely new low, depending on how one looks at it.

They return to East City the following day. A week passes, and Riza gives no indication that their conversation in Liore had ever happened. She treats him the same way she always has, both when others are around and behind the closed doors of their office, after everyone else in their unit has left for the evening.

“I asked Elizabeth if she’d like to start something up with me,” Roy tells Hughes on the phone, on Saturday night. He’s supposed to be working, but it’s half past eight already, and he hasn’t been working with his full attention span for two reports now.

Hughes makes a strange sort of spluttering noise; it sounds as if he’s choked on his sandwich. “No way.”

“It’s true.” Roy winds the phone cord around his finger absentmindedly. “I don’t think she was interested in the idea, though. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. She's the only one I've ever really wanted."

“Roy--”

Riza walks back into the office then, carrying an armful of files from the archives, and Roy is forced to improvise. “I have no interest in your services, and don’t call this number again,” he orders, in his most forceful tone. He slams the phone down, before giving his Lieutenant an apologetic smile. “Telemarketers. I have no idea how they get their hands on the military lines.”

“Please give Lieutenant Colonel Hughes my regards before you hang up next time.” Riza sets the files on her desk, and then picks up her coat. Roy notices that she’s changed back into civilian clothes, a dark skirt and a silk blouse. “We could head back for the night, since we got quite a bit done today.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day, Lieutenant.” Roy stands up hastily, before she can reconsider, and picks up his coat. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

They live within a couple of streets of each other, about twenty minutes from Eastern Command. They pass the time in quiet conversation, speculating about how Breda’s undercover mission in Mouhed is going, and the upcoming joint training exercise at Fort Briggs. As always, Roy feels an irritating pang of disappointment when they reach the back parking lot of his Lieutenant’s apartment building. He spends every day with Riza, and many evenings and nights, too, and yet he never tires of her company.

“Sleep well, Hawkeye.” Roy throws her his most appealing look. “Any chance you’ll bring in coffee on Monday morning?”

“I could be persuaded.” Riza crosses her legs, and Roy tries to ignore the slit up the side of her skirt. She studies him for a couple of moments, and he catches the faintest flicker of apprehension in her eyes. “Would you like to walk me upstairs, Colonel?”

She’s never asked him that before. It takes the words - the offer - a moment to register. Roy shifts the car into park as soon as it does, more roughly than he should. “I would,” he says, realizing that he can’t remember the last time he had to fight back an actual shiver of anticipation. “Very much. Oh, and Lieutenant?”

Riza’s hand stills on the door. “Yes?”

“You should call me by my name, when we’re upstairs.” Roy remembers, then, that Riza’s apartment building doesn’t have an elevator, and they’ll have to make it up four flights of stairs like civilized adults.

“Of course, Colonel.” Riza holds his gaze, and Roy’s mouth goes very dry. “I think I’ll be able to do that. When we get upstairs.” She pauses and adds, almost as an afterthought. “You can call me whatever you want.”

Riza. It’s how he refers to her in his mind, but never out loud, not for years. It makes his throat burn, how much he wants to say it. To whisper it as he lets her hair down from its updo, and brushes his fingers against her collarbones. Roy exhales slowly. “We should go up. Now.”

Riza gives him a small smile. “Yes, sir.”

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

notes

Writing from Roy's POV is always an interesting and amusing exercise. I had a bit of a laugh while I was writing this because it's basically like

Roy: What if... we fucked... ahaha, just kidding Lieutenant, it was just a thought exercise, just running hypotheticals...unless...?

I hope you enjoyed reading; I'd love to know what you thought! Royai Week has been super fun so far, both with reading others' amazing and creative responses to the prompts, admiring the gorgeous art, and sharing my own stuff. I'm hoping to have Day 5's prompt posted sometime tomorrow, but it might be a day late if I don't get it up in time.

#royaiweek20 #royai #royai fanfic

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frostburnx · 3 years

Text

AngelFell part 13

Frisk woke up the next morning and looked over at Chara who was in a strange awkward looking position that you would think would be uncomfortable to her, but clearly isn’t. He kind of chuckled at the oddity of her sleeping habits. After a second she abruptly startled awake falling off of the slab onto the ground with a thud. Fisk’s eyes widened and he looked over the edge at her. She was just laying there with a wide smile on her face and bright eyes to complement it.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“Mhm!” She sat up grabbing Frisks cheeks in her hand but not too roughly so that she wouldn’t accidentally cut him with her claws, “Good morning!”

“Good morning! How did you sleep?”

“I slept great!” she exclaimed full of enthusiasm and excitement, “You?”

“I slept amazing! Thank you for asking.”

Chara let go giggling before she stood up and promptly stretched. She turned to Frisk about to say something when one of her fairy-like ears twitched for a second and she instead turned to the entrance to the cave.

Standing there was a knight. They had short brown hair with bright emerald green eyes. They were wearing light weight armor with red accents and a small flame emblem on their chest plate. Their complexion was a soft tan and unlike most of the people Chara had seen when she was on the heaven side, this was a human. Their eyes widened at the sight of the two and they sprung forward with a wide grin.

In a swift motion the knight picked both angels up and man handled them.

“So adorable!” They nearly squealed with excitement, they had a medium toned voice.

As soon as they had picked them up Chara stiffened and looked towards the cave entrance as a familiar looking knight stepped in. It was the fish woman from the other day and she had a wide smirk on her face flashing sharp teeth in Chara and Frisk's direction.

“Quick, take Frisk and let’s go!” She ordered.

The knight sprinted past their superior still holding onto both angels and began racing towards the barrier.

“Sam!!! What are you doing!?!?” She bellowed after the guard who was still running and looking down at the two with admiration.

“Hi! I’m Sam, what are both of your names?” They asked.

“I uh I-I’m Chara,” she said meekly, very confused on what was happening.

“Aw, that’s so adorable!”

Chara looked behind Sam too see the woman running after them with a sort of agitated look on her face. Soon after they reached the buried and the knight known as Sam put Chara on the ground before quickly crossing the barrier and placing Frisk down on the heaven side. As soon as Frisk passed the barrier however, suddenly a quiet whistling noise filled the air. He turned towards what it was and saw a couple of objects flying right at him. He didn’t have any time to react before the objects hit him. They went around his body to the base of his wings and clamped down tightly. A small beep came from them and Frisk was then thrown off his feet as he was being pulled away from the barrier with a strong force. All of it happened so fast he barely registered it and started to look around to see what was pulling him, but he couldn’t see anything. Whatever was pulling him, it wasn’t an object, it had to be magic.

Chara slammed her hands against the burier watching in horror as he was being pulled away from her.

“Frisk!!!!!” She cried out.

The woman crossed the barrier beside Chara and she only noticed after she entered her sight in front of her. The woman then grabbed Same by the plate of armor on their back and was dragging them away from the crossover.

Chara fell to her knees beginning to cry as she continued watching Frisk being pulled farther and farther away out of view.

Frisk continued to be pulled, he looked around kicking his feet uselessly trying to keep up with the force but it was useless. He looked up to see the familiar arch of the doorway into the castle and he soon after came to an abrupt stop. He sprung to his feet and reached over his shoulders and around to his back trying to pull the cuffs off, but they wouldn’t budge. In his blind struggle he hadn’t noticed someone approached him.

“Frisk...I didn’t want this, but the kingdom needs you,” a familiar voice full of sadness explained to him.

He turned to see Asriel standing before him and his eyes widened. Thousands of thoughts rushed into his mind, some were worried about Chara and others were that of betrayal. In the end the thoughts about Chara over ruled the ones he felt about Asriel.

“But she is there all alone!” He cried out, “The only reason I went over there this morning was to tell her I wouldn’t be there and you sent Undyne!”

“You said you would help me, b-but you weren’t there..” he paused before continuing, “I was advised to send Undyne after I volunteered to, they didn’t want me going!”

“So now am I a prisoner that is being kept here??”

“No..” Asriel looked away with an expression that said he doesn’t want to do this and he looked like he was barely keeping it together anymore, “You aren’t meant to be over there, you’re supposed to be here. I’m sorry!”

Frisk shut his eyes turning his head to the ground with a shallow feeling enveloping him.

Asriel just quickly walked away keeping himself together with just a thread.

It was silent in the throne room, the only sound was the soft crackling of the fire. Frisk clenched his fists for a second before releasing them. He would see her again, he knew it. He had to stay determined. One day he will get the cuffs off and go straight to her and stay with her for as long as he possibly can. It wasn’t fair that she had to be alone. It wasn’t fair that both of them were being held prisoner to their own sides. But for now he had to deal with it, for now anyway.

Frisk's thoughts were interrupted by the throne doors opening and someone running up to him. He turned his head with hope that it was Chara but instead it was a small squirrel like girl. She had yellow stripes going down her and bright yellow eyes.

“Oh wow! I really am going to be working with the angel!!” She exclaimed and did a small dance spinning around.

She stopped with a wide smile, “I am supposed to tell you what your objectives are. It will be chaotic now but I’m sure it will be a-okay!”

“Yeah..sure,” Frisk blankly said, still upset.

“I’m Elexis!” She held out her hand to him with a bright smile.

He slowly shook her hand before sighing sadly.

“Alright! Let’s go!”

Roughly 11,000 years later, Frisk was 10 and a half.

Frisk was just finishing repairing a roof and jumped down. He looked up at the sky and it was a gorgeous deep blue, with only a few clouds here and there. The nice spring breeze blew down the street putting a small smile on Frisk’s face. He then looked down and started walking down the stone street looking for any more work he needed to complete before the day was over. In front of an inn there was a woman talking to two guards. The guards were smiling wide and displaying outwards body language. He walked a little closer to see if he could overhear the conversation.

“Yeah, she came back with a black feather on her armor too!” One said.

“I can’t believe she managed to kill that fallen angel,” the other guard said with a surprised tone.

The woman put a hand over her mouth, “Reall?” She had a hopeful tone.

“Yeah, I want to be strong like Undyne,” the guard looked away like they were just imagining it now.

Frisk felt his heart drop in his chest and his eyes widened, “No way, Chara didn’t die.” he thought in denial.

He then looked in the direction of the barrier and started flying to it, after a few minutes he landed in front of it. There in front of him he could see Doug a little ways into the hell side huddled over a bloodied black feather. He was circling around it and Frisk could barely make out the sound of whining. From the feather on the ground there was a black bloody trail coming from farther away.

“N-No, she couldn’t have died! Maybe she was able to get to lava, or-or maybe she- She just can’t have died!!!” Shock overwhelmed Frisk and he went to cross the barrier. But the cuffs on his back glowed a little before he was quickly dragged away towards the castle like it always did everytime he tried to cross. When he arrived at the castle he got to his feet drawing in a breath trying to rationalize what that was and what he heard. Undyne walked into the throne room and went up to him wrapping an arm around his head giving him a noogie.

“Heya punk!”

Frisk wasn’t amused this time, instead he turned to her with a worried look.

“Were you on the hell side recently?” He began hiding his shock from her as to not seem suspicious.

“I was, I had a mission,” She smiled wide at him, “You still up for anime with Alphys and I later?”

“No, I’ll pass this time,” Frisk said, suppressing a quiver to his tone.

He then ran out of the castle and flew to the barrier once again trying to cross but being brought back to the throne room in a repetitive cycle of attempting to cross and being pulled back to the throne room. He couldn’t handle the thought of her being dead. It couldn’t be.

Soon after the rumor of the death of the fallen angel spread through the kingdoms of the heaven side which brought relief to everyone that feared the potential destruction of the heaven side. Frisk kept trying to cross for multiple days and for a few years was in constant denial and sadness, but he still felt that she was alive, she had to be. She couldn’t have died, they must be wrong.

(This was a little bit longer than a normal chapter because I had a lot to put in, and it was compensation for not writing the other day since I had gotten busy, this story is far from over. I hope you enjoy what’s to come. I will eventually start posting some of my art, I can’t promise quality as some of them are a little bit old and my art skills have improved a lot since some of these were made. So yeh.)

#undertale #undetale au #angelfell #chara #frisk #frisk and chara #asriel dreemurr #undyne #roleplay

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bisexual-bookman · 4 years

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A Ghosts Home

Fandom: D.Gray man

Pairing: N/A

Characters: Lenalee Lee, Allen Walker, Kanda Yu, Lavi

Sumamry: Stuck out in the rain, the small group has no choice but to hunker down in an abandoned church and wait for the weather to pass. What better way to pass the time than telling ghost stories?

[Read on AO3]

This is my secret Santa gift for @your-local-cryptic! I hope you enjoy it :) And thank you to @dgmsecretsanta2k19 for hosting this year! Happy Holidays everyone!

The rain fell heavily over the four travelers, their hair and clothes plastered to their bodies. They stood in front of a grand building, the structure large and imposing in the dismal weather. Once, it would have been a gorgeous building; the enormous stained-glass windows would’ve once been awe-inspiring, but now, they were nothing but shattered glass. The tall spires were nothing more than rubble along the ground.

The small group made their way into the abandoned building with care, skirting around the fallen pieces of the life-like statues above the dilapidated door. Once inside they looked around the vast area. Part of the roof had collapsed, a large hole letting in the heavy rain. Other parts of the roof looked like they would fall apart at any second, the large pillars holding it up nothing more than pieces on the ground.

But it had walls that would protect them from the wind, and some of the roof looked strong enough for them to camp out under.

“Well,” Allen said, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes, “At least it’s better than nothing.”

Kanda snorted in disbelief, his dark eyes rolling at Allen’s optimistic words. Allen’s scathing reply was cut off at the sound of Lavi’s off-handed comment.

“Ya know, I heard that this building is haunted.”

Allen tensed at Lavi’s words. Lenalee’s scolding ‘Lavi!” almost drowned out Kanda’s growl.

“Hey! I’m not saying that it’s true! I just heard someone at the inn talking about it!” Lavi held his hands up in a surrender motion. “Besides, it’s not like we have much of a choice. The train we were going to take broke down, and the inn was booked to the max because of this storm.”

“That’s true…but if something does go wrong, we are quite far from the village.” Lenalee said, tone worried.

“Yep! Almost a mile!” Lavi’s too-happy voice chimed in. Kanda snorted again, brushing past the others and walking up to the remains of the pews.

“Look, there’s no such thing as ghosts. Now, will one of you help me use some of this broken shit to make a fire? I don’t k now about the rest of you, but I’m not about to willingly freeze to death.”

Kanda’s gruff voice echoed slightly in the large space. Lenalee nodded, and setting her luggage down on the ground, set about helping Kanda build a fire.

“Well, looks like you two got this, so I’m going to go explore!” Lavi said, throwing his own luggage to the ground.

“I hope something collapses and crushes you.” Kanda’s dry words followed Lavi.

Lavi just laughed in response, picking his way gingerly through the rubble. After a quick mental debate on whether to stay and help or follow Lavi, Allen choose to go with Lavi, not wanting to spend any time with Kanda while the long-haired man was in such a foul mood.

----

Once Lavi had decided he had enough of wandering through the abandoned building, he and Allen made their way back to the other two. Seeing a small, but earnest fire going, Allen happily sat down next to Lenalee, holding his hands out in front of the flame in the hopes of warming them up.

At Lavi’s loud return and exclamation of ‘Yuu-chan! Did ya miss me,’ a quiet sigh left the long-haired man, followed by a muttered ‘damn.’

Allen rolled his eyes at the surly males’ attitude; though, Allen couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t looking forward to having to spend the night in the cold, dismal building.

The cold, dismal, potentially haunted building.

“Ya know, this seems like the perfect time to tell ghost stories.” Lavi’s abrupt words cut through the silence. Kanda’s long-suffering sigh was the only sound for a moment until both Allen and Lenalee started to protest.

“Lavi, I don’t think-“

“Really? You want to tell-“

Lavi waved off the two’s polite, yet adamant words.

“C’mon, like Yuu-chan said,” Lavi started, ignoring the light growl thrown his way, ”There’s no such thing as ghosts!”

“Still, this doesn’t really seem like the best place to tell them...” Allen’s hesitant voice trailed off. His eyes flickered around the room, briefly settling on the broken statues. Unnerved by the statues intense gaze, Allen shifted closer to Lenalee. She sent a hesitant smile his way, which he returned.

“Here! I’ll start! Besides I know the perfect story to tell. It’s something I came across in a book a while back”

Lavi crossed his legs, shifting to get more comfortable.

“There was once a gentleman by the name of Felix, and one night, in a little village near the town of Dieppe, he tried to book a room at the local inn. However, it ended up being too full for him to rent a room.”

A grin spread across Lavi’s face as he spread his arms wide.

“Kind of like our situation!” Lavi exclaimed much too happily for the other three’s liking.

“Great.” Came Kanda’s monotone reply.

Ignoring the long-haired man, Lavi continued his story. His words were spoken in a soft, almost dreamy tone; a stark contrast to his usual loud whines and exclamations.

“The inn offered to take his luggage and hold it for him, which he accepted, and told him about a place he could stay. He agreed, and a worker at the inn led him to the place. He begrudgingly followed, rightfully annoyed at having to sleep at a strangers house.”

“Well, now this doesn’t seem all bad.” Allen said quietly.

“He arrives at the house, which looked innocent enough; small, two stories tall, and,” at this Lavi’s voice dropped, nothing but a harsh whisper. He leaned forward slightly, the light from the fire catching the edges of his face,” all alone on the outskirts of town.”

“Oh, never mind,” came Allen’s even quieter words. Lavi snickered at Allen, continuing on in that same soft, relaxed tone.

“After knocking on the door, a woman answered, and stepping inside, Felix wandered into the kitchen, seeing that it was empty. At that, he realized that the woman must be the only one living there. Seeing him standing there looking very confused, she explained that she was often letting people stay the night when the inn was full, and would make sure to give him a very comfy room.”

“He decided that it would be best to just go along with everything. After relaxing in front of the fire, Felix soon grew tired. The warm glow from the fire and the monotonous actions of the woman sewing lulling him to sleep. Seeing this, the woman showed him to his room that was on the first floor. When he saw his room, Felix was shocked at how small it was; the tiny area barely big enough for the bed, with a scant few inches on one side. He also noticed a window sitting at the head of the bed.”

“He thanked the woman, and quickly settled into bed. He fell asleep promptly, having been travelling all day, and was exhausted. He wasn’t sleep for long though, before he felt it.”

“Felt what?” Lenalee asked. She was hugging her knees, leaning against Allen, who was sitting crossed-legged, hands gripping his ankles. They both stared wide-eyed at Lavi, hanging on to his every word. Even Kanda was drawn in by the red-heads story, the Japanese man watching Lavi intently.

“A hand as cold as death.” Lavi whispered. A soft whimper escaped Allen and he tucked himself closer to Lenalee. Kanda’s eyes widened slightly, and he shifted, almost imperceptibly, towards Lenalee. Lavi caught the subtle movement, grinning to himself as he continued.

“It caressed his face, from forehead down to his chin. A hand so cold it was as if a corpse was stroking him. Then, he awoke, and startled, bolted upright.”

Lavi suddenly straightened, throwing his arms out in front of him.

“Who’s there?!” Lavi yelled, his startling loud voice echoing in the large space. A flash of lightening shot through the sky, lighting Lavi up from behind. Twin squeals rang through the air, Lavi looking at the pair clutching each other with a grin.

Lenalee was gripping Allen’s bicep, in what Lavi knew from experience was a painful grip. Her eyes were blown wide, and her mouth was set in a thin, trembling line. Allen had his knees pulled up to his chest, his hand clamped over his mouth and his cheeks bright red. Even Kanda looked startled, his shoulder pressing against Lenalee’s.

Lavi placed his hands on his knees, face suddenly deadly serious.

“But, no one answered him, since no one was there.”

Allen’s face went white, the hand covering his mouth moving to clutch at Lenalee’s arm.

“He got on his hands and knees, feeling around the room to see if anyone was there.” A mildly panicked look came over Lavi’s face as he threw his arms out in front of him, moving them around as if he was the one that was trapped in the tiny room. “He felt along all the walls but found nothing. No one was in the room except for him, but he knew that someone had touched him.”

“Now,” Lavi sat up straight, crossing his arms. His voice had changed from the soft, airy tone to a confidant, almost quizzical one.

“You may be wondering to yourself, ‘why didn’t dear ol’ Felix try to grab this supposed ghost hand?’”

Lenalee and Allen nodded eagerly. Some of the colour had retuned to Allen, but he was still much paler than his usual pallor.

“Well, when he got startled out of his sleep, he did try to make a grab for it, but it was already gone.”

“You’re making this up.”

Kanda’s gruff tone cut through the air.

“Didn’t you hear him earlier, Bakanda? He said he got it from a book.”

Kanda growled, about to throw a retort back when a loud ‘shh!’ stopped him. He looked at Lenalee who was glaring back at him. She continued to stare him down for a few more moments before he finally looked away with a click of his tongue.

Lenalee looked back to Lavi, her eyes wide.

“Continue, Lavi,”

With a snort of amusement Lavi continued on.

“Now, at this point dear Felix was very confused, and more than a little exhausted, so he wrote the hand off as a figment of his imagination; nothing more than a dream. He was still nervous about this hand, but he settled back into bed. But before he was completely asleep, he felt it again.”

“The hand.” Lenalee whispered, tone fearful.

“Who’s there! What are you?! Speak or begone!” Lavi shouted. The others had been expecting the sudden noise this time, but still they jumped.

“This time he jumped out of bed in a flurry, feeling all around the room, trying to find the owner of this hand. But, yet again, no one was there. So, he stood there, in that tiny room, thoroughly confused. His calming thoughts of dreams and imaginations didn’t work this time. This time, the hand was too real, it had skin and bones like a real hand, and moved like one too. Yet, it was the hand of a dead man; ice cold to the touch.”

“Now, his heart was racing, his mind trying to keep up. He tried to come up with a reason, some explanation for this ghost. But he couldn’t come up with anything. He didn’t believe in ghost’s, never had, but this experience, this made him believe.”

A whine of discomfort was heard from Allen, both his hands clutching tightly at Lenalee’s arm.

“There was no way it was an intruder,” Lavi continued, “There wasn’t enough time to go to the door and escape, even if it had been unlocked. Which he double-checked. There also was no fire place, so someone couldn’t be hiding in the chimney, and there wasn’t a closet either. It was just him, and a bed.”

“After scouring the room, making sure there was absolutely no one in there with him, he went back to bed, thinking up some reason for all of this ‘till his head hurt. But it was to no avail. Overcome with exhaustion, he fell back asleep, and slept ‘till morning with no more disturbances.”

“When he awoke, he told the hostess about the events of the previous night. She listened intently, asking a few questions here and there. After he was done recounting his night, she suggested that it might’ve been her drunken brother. At his insistence, she explained: Her brother has been living with her since the death of their parents, and he had a terrible habit of leaving for weeks at a time and not telling her about when he was leaving, or when he was coming back. Her brother had most likely come home the previous night, and not wanting to disturb her, stuck his hand through the window, to see if some one was sleeping in the bed. He was probably too drunk to notice any exclamations Felix had made. And, after finding the bed occupied, her brother most likely went off to find somewhere else to sleep.”

“Hearing this, Felix was satisfied with the woman’s explanation. He never found out whether or not the brother was there, because after breakfast, he packed up and headed out.”

“The end?” Allen questioned. Lavi nodded.

“The end.”

A soft exhalation of air left Allen as he let go of Lenalee, tense body relaxing.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Allen said, shooting a nervous smile to Lavi.

Lavi grinned back, leaning back on his hands.

“See? It’s like Yuu-chan said, ghosts don’t- “

A thudding sound made itself known over the rain, Lavi cutting himself off.

“What’s that noise?” Allen asked, a slight tremble in his voice.

“It’s probably an animal or something.” Kanda said, though he didn’t sound too confidant. His eyes were glued to the large, broken doors of the chapel. The small group followed his gaze, able to tell that the sound was coming from that direction. A small squeak was heard from Allen as the sound grew louder.

“Kanda’s probably right,” Lenalee said. She shifted, making it so that she could jump up at a moments notice and activate her innocence.

“I don’t think so…most animals would be hiding from this weather.” Lavi said.

The group sat there, tense, as they waited for what ever was making the noise to show itself.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Kanda suddenly spoke up. He was still staring at the door way, though his expression was now more confused than anything.

“Of course we can BaKanda! Who wouldn’t be able to hear that awful thudding noise?” Allen said, shooting a glare at Kanda.

Kanda finally took his eyes off the door, turning to level a glare at Allen.

“Not that ‘Sprout,” Kanda spat, “It sounds like a voice.”

Allen went wide-eyed at that, his face paling.

“What!” He squeaked out.

Lavi strained his ears, trying to hear what Kanda had. Eye widening in disbelief, Lavi realized that Kanda was right. There was what seemed to be the sound of someone shouting over the rain.

“Yuu-chan’s right! I can hear someone yelling!”

“Exorcists!”

“I think it’s someone from the village!” Lavi exclaimed.

True enough, a soft yellow glow shown outside the doors, gradually getting larger until it was in the doorway, illuminating the strangers face.

“There you guys are! I have some news for you!”

The group of four stared dumb-founded at the dripping wet stranger in the doorway. Lavi stared intently at the man, not able to place his face.

Stepping closer, the man grinned as he continued talking.

“I’ve been looking for you four everywhere. They managed to get the train back up and running! Something about debris being stuck in the wheels. I knew you guys wouldn’t want to miss it, so I went out looking for you.”

“In this weather?!” Allen asked, incredulously. The man scratched the back of his head, grinning sheepishly.

“You guys saved my life; it’s the least I can do.”

Lavi suddenly shot up, startling the others. Snapping his fingers, he pointed at the stranger.

“You where on the train with us! Your village was attacked and you where coming here to work with your sister and her husband at the inn!”

The man gaped at Lavi.

“Uh, yeah, that’s right. How did you remember that?”

Lavi grinned easily, brushing off the man’s comment.

“It’s what I do,”

The man continued to stare, even more confused with Lavi’s vague answer. Lenalee stood, brushing off her skirt, Allen and Kanda following her.

“Thank you so much for coming to find us, we really are grateful.” Lenalee said, smiling at the man.

“Like I said, it’s no problem. Here,” He held up a lantern, the candle inside glowing softly.

“This is for you guys. The trail back can get pretty bad.”

“Thank you,” Allen said, taking the lantern from the man.

“Now, let’s hurry, the train will be departing soon, and you folks won’t want to miss it.”

Collecting their luggage, and stamping out the fire, the group followed the man back out into the heavy rain, grateful to be leaving the abandoned cathedral behind.

#dgm #allen walker #kanda yu #lenalee lee #lavi #d.gray man #dgmss2k19 #a bookmans writing

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thegoldenavenger · 4 years

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Chapter 2 of the kny fusion no one wants haha

Content Warnings: aftermath of death, uhhh some non named, non canon characters get munched, content warnings applicable to kny canon and to iron man canon. not beta’d we die like mne. mobile beware of read more cut.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Everything |

Steve asks Tony if they can return to the humble homestead where Bucky was turned. It's not a terrible idea to see if there are any clues as to the whereabouts of the Demon King there, and Tony understands the need to say goodbye.

The small house smells like blood. Tony sees Bucky's hand clench tighter to Steve's but the newly made demon doesn't react otherwise. Steve let's go of Bucky and begins the arduous task of dragging his family's bodies out into the night snow.

Tony does not help. He walks the perimeter, keeping his eyes away from Steve and Bucky's lonely work. He traces a long cold trail to the edge of the woods, traces it back to the house.

He traces it until Steve and Bucky are knelt, quietly over five unmarked graves, the freshly turned earth blemishing the white snow. Tony waits as long as he can before approaching the two, his footfalls intentionally heavy.

"Unless you want your friend to fry, we should get moving."

Steve makes a scoffing noise in his throat, but he pushes himself up anyway. After a moment's pause, Bucky follows. Tony leads the way, trusting his senses to let him know if the demon starts making a move.

The night is cold, it makes breathing difficult. He focuses on the sharpness of it, like the moon is holding a knife to his lungs, like it will freeze the shapes of five lonely graves from his mind.

He should have been faster.

The walk is too short and they arrive in a small, quiet town before the sun rises. Tony finds an inn, asks for a room, pays cheaply so they're guaranteed one without windows, and leads his two new charges inside before the morning light can touch them.

As the pre-dawn breaks he can see Bucky get fidgety, but the demon stills when he notices Tony's glance. Fine enough. He doesn't look like he's about to go feral, just like he's uncomfortable.

"Steve, get food," Tony tosses a pouch of money at the man, resisting smiling at his shocked face as the purse's weight settles in his hands.

"I'm not leaving Bucky here," Steve says .

"Then feel free to starve, because he can't leave this room today." Tony's tone brooks no argument as he shrugs out of his over jacket.

He unbuckles the belt his sword is attached to setting the whole mess on the small end table provided in thee room, and untucks his undershirt, finally collapsing into a pile on the tatami. Steve furrows his eyebrows at him, but Tony ignores the glare, instead stretching extravagantly and leaning back on his hands.

There's fight in Steve's eyes but Tony isn't in the mood to encourage it. He leans back his head and pretends to sleep, his eyes closed. A long second passes and Steve slams the door to the room shut on his way out.

Tony peaks at Bucky. He has retreated to a corner of the room, knees drawn to his chest. His hair mostly obscures his face, but Tony doesn't need to watch his eyes to see the way the fingers on his good hand tremble.

The hastily made bandage covering his left arm is still wet with blood. It should have dried by now. It should have healed completely by all rights. How many demons had Tony dodged limbs that he had just taken the liberty to remove? A demon's healing factor was one of the things that made fighting them so difficult.

But here Bucky sat, fangs peaking out of his mouth, claws sharpened, yet wound still dripping.

Tony sits back up, facing the demon. Perhaps sensing Tony's focus, Bucky raises his head to stare warily at him. His eyes aren't human but they don't look like a demon's.

"Does your arm hurt?" Tony asks.

Bucky does not respond other than clenching his fingers.

"Blood might help," Tony says before he can stop himself. The pupil in Bucky's eyes constrict. "But if you eat a human, I don't know if there's any saving you."

Tony isn't the one who studies demons, he designs swords and puts them to use. He's never regretted the distance between he and his fellow Pillars more so than now.

Tony clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "I don't know if saving you is even the question here. But if you're willing to try... I will stand behind you."

Bucky furrows his brows, creasing his skin in such a sad manner, but he seems to consider. Tony cannot tell how much Bucky can put together. He doesn't act like demons Tony has met before--fully sentient but capricious, murderous. Bucky is quiet, following where Steve pulls.

But this must be a decision made without Steve, Tony thinks.

"It's your life, you should decide how it's led."

Bucky doesn't answer, just sits in the corner, quiet, until Steve returns.

They travel at night so Bucky doesn't burn and so people are less likely to notice anything odd between the three of them.

Tony has drafted his letters and sent them. One to Fury, one to Bruce. He doesn't acknowledge his nerves as he waits for a response.

It's quite on accident when they stumble across a minor demon celebrating its hunt of a small caravan. Despite Tony's training, the first sign anything is wrong is the way Bucky stiffens.

"What's wrong?" Steve asks as Bucky trembles.

When the wind changes and brings with it the smell of blood, Bucky starts growling low in his throat. Tony's grip is loose, but steady on the hilt of his blade.

"Careful," Tony warns, lowly, and he doesn't know if he's addressing Steve or Bucky.

They keep walking, cautious now, Tony half distracted by Bucky. Still, he soon picks up the crunch of a demon chewing.

"Demon," he says, and Steve's confused eyes widen with dawning realization.

So enraptured with its meal, the demon does not sense Tony and his companions. Twenty or so meters away Bucky halts and refuses to move. Steve seems to be unable of taking his eyes of the demon and its meal. Tony tightens his grip on his sword.

He breaths in, falling into stance, picking one from Pepper's style. It is made to cover distance. Tony expands his lungs and launches forward, hearing the surprised gasps of his companions as he leaves them behind. His blade striked true, cleanly slicing through the demon's neck and its wrists where it held up a hunk of meat to its mouth.

The pain must register after its head slides away from its body because its head is already falling when it starts screaming. It's so loud he nearly misses the sound of steps on the ground.

He brings his sword up just in time to block sharpened claws coming towards him. Another demon? Tony narrows his eyes, swinging his sword. They don't tend to travel in packs.

These demons are far, far below his level and this one falls to his blade as quick as the first had. Nothing short of a Moon demon would falter Tony or his fellow pillars.

Steve yells and Tony whips around to see the shape of another demon attacking the two he'd left behind. He tenses to intervene, but a rough hand on his shoulder stops him. Even now, and Fury still manages to sneak up on him.

He abides only by Fury's insistence and they both watch Steve get bowled over. Steve is too small to put up a fight, he is reedy and thin. Still, he struggles with the small pack he carries and manages to bludgeon the demon enough to distract it.

Bucky takes a step but it is in the wrong direction. Towards the butchered bodies of the caravan.

Tony senses Fury's hand reach for a hidden blade, and this time Tony puts his hand on Fury. Asking him, silently, to watch.

Bucky shakes under the moonlight and Steve thrashes under the third demon.

"You brat!" The demon cries, Steve must have gotten lucky somewhere.

"Buck--Bucky!" Steve yells, not pleading but commanding from his position in the mud and dirt.

It's enough, and Tony isn't skilled enough to quiet his sigh of relief when Bucky flings himself at the demon on Steve.

He kicks it so hard its head goes flying.

“A demon,” Fury says, voice even. Tony still feels like it’s an accusation.

“He has a name,” Steve hisses, indignant. Bucky sits quietly behind Steve.

“He--Bucky,” Tony says in deference to Steve’s squawking, “doesn’t act like any other demon. You’ve seen it.”

Fury doesn’t say anything, only looks at Bucky over Steve’s shoulder. Compelled, Tony continues, “Demons aren’t social, they don’t process emotions the same was as humans. They follow different instincts. But Bucky hasn’t succumbed to his hunger even once, he blatantly prefers having company!” Tony gestures with his words, like he’s scoring his argument.

Is he arguing? Tony just wants Fury to see the potential Tony has seen.

“He’s my brother,” Steve says, “He’s the best man you can ever meet and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like he’s a monster! He’s not one. I’ll prove it to you!” His fists are clenched tightly over his knees, his back straight and determined. He’s short and thin but Tony feels like that wouldn’t stop him from fighting both of them right now if he felt like he had to.

“How can you prove it?” Fury asks.

“I--” Steve cuts off, looking angrily at the pot over the fire. “There’s demons who do hurt people, right? The one who did this to him, the one who hurt our family. We’ll find him and show you! That Bucky’s better, that we can help.”

Fury only hums in acknowledgment of Steve’s declaration, he doesn’t say anything further. Tony sidles closer to the pot and starts serving them all. The stew is thick and smells delicious. He doesn’t know if Steve has noticed, but Fury must have started on this early in the morning and he’s prepared too much for just an individual. He’d been waiting for them, all of them.

He ladles the stew and feels warmth spread through his chest when he notices Fury had added some of the hard to find wood mushrooms Tony had shown a preference for back when he’d studied under the Mist Pillar. Such a small thing, to show someone still had room for you in their life.

Steve takes his bowl, obviously still concerned about the conversation and not like being left without an answer.

As Tony pulls a fourth bowl towards the stew he hears an inquisitive noise and he smiles at Bucky, peaking around Steve’s shoulder. Tony fills the bowl, sprinkles a garnish over it, and puts in a shallow spoon before holding it out to Bucky.

No one has really had a chance to study demons thoroughly, Bruce is really the only one in the field, but it’s general knowledge that demons don’t need to eat proper food, though Tony is sure that they can. Since Bucky isn’t eating a demon’s preferred diet, he can’t imagine offering a substitute would be a terrible idea.

Bucky reaches out to accept the bowl, staring at it for a disconcertingly long amount of time. Tony isn’t sure Bucky realizes it’s for eating, but he holds the bowl with a sort of relish, and Tony surmises that at least he’s enjoying the warmth.

“Start eating,” Fury says abruptly, and Tony realizes that Bucky isn’t the only one not enjoying his meal. Steve startles at Fury’s stern voice. “You’ll need the energy come tomorrow morning.

Steve blinks, confused and Tony can’t stop the laugh that spills between his lips. The way Steve’s blue eyes reflect the fire remind Tony of fireflies over a still pond at night, and he thinks, perhaps the Breath of Mist may find a suitable successor tonight.

The morning comes quickly, perhaps because Tony insists on waking before the rest in the humble house. He gathers his belongings and is working on his shoes, sitting out on the engawa in the dawn’s pre-morning light. He hears shuffling and is not surprised to see Fury walk around the house to meet him. He’d never managed to wake before Fury.

“I thought you may want to watch your strays a little longer,” Fury says.

“They’re in good hands,” he replies, truthfully, but also to see the way Fury’s eyes soften. He turns his attention back to his feet, fingers tapping against them, stalling. “I can’t stay. I’ve got to relay everything back to the other Pillars, inform them about Bucky’s condition.” He smiles wryly at Fury, “Make it sound like he’s not an incredibly unstable, unknowable force of nature.”

“You could write a letter.” Fury says, but with an air that shows he doesn’t particularly think it a wise move.

“If you’re lonely, you can always write me, Nick.”

It’s not an empty offer, but they both know they won’t take it. Neither of them take particularly well to letters. Fury’s distaste comes from a life time of intercepting letters to gather information instilling a practical paranoia in him. If he must he will send a messenger crow with a missive so encrypted and vague it’s almost useless.

Tony finds it difficult to communicate with written words. His greatest strength is disarming people with his words, more than one person has accused him of wriggling his way into their lives, and that’s harder to do when his words come off as dry and clinical.

Tony sighs and stands, checking his sword on his side. “I think he’ll do good with a shield,” he says as he steps onto the packed dirt path through Fury’s small garden. “Don’t get him used to swords, because I won’t be making one of those for him.”

“Don’t tell me how to train the brats you leave on my doorstep,” Fury says to Tony’s back.

#tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #nick fury #kny #demon slayer au #kamaeteWRITES

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treatian · 4 years

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Dark Curse

Chapter 60: The Good Thing About Associates

The best plans involved as few people as possible, preferably himself and the person he was using. He'd found that the fewer people who knew about the plan, the easier it was to make it work for himself and himself alone. He didn't like to "need" people. Needing others was an idea born of society. All he needed was his magic, and in this case, he needed to make sure the other person who would be key in breaking Regina's heart wasn't doing it for him, but rather for himself.

"Not so fast…" he called after Jefferson the night after his spat with Regina. The boy had been out and about, gallivanting in some other realm filled with dead and diseased humans and other nightmarish creatures. Now that he was back, he wasn't about to be honest and send him on this mission without allowing the boy to get something in return. He wouldn't allow this to count as a favor, or for the boy to think that he was essential to his plan. Oh, deep down he knew he was, but that was the thing about knowing one's importance, it had a tendency to bolster the ego. Jefferson didn't need that, and he most certainly didn't need Jefferson to think that he needed him. They already owed each other so many favors he could barely keep up. This one had to be done carefully. "I have another job for you…two actually."

The boy paused on the stairs and then with a sigh dragged his feet back up into the tower. He almost felt bad for the poor lad, he had no idea what Jefferson did on these trips or if it was a trick of the hat, but whenever he came back he was always exhausted. He knew he'd been about to go below, crash into the bed that he used, and sleep for days. But this wasn't a time for sleep. This was the time to plot.

"I'd like you to return to Oz."

"For the shoes? You think enough time has passed?"

"I worry over what might happen if too much time goes by." He knew, his future wasn't to use those shoes, he'd nearly made peace with that, but there was still a part of him that wanted to try and possess them. Besides, there were other reasons for sending Jefferson to Oz and calling him back.

"I'll get on it in the morning, shouldn't take me too long to dig around and locate them," he shrugged before turning to leave again.

"Ah!" he cried, making the boy pause again with an irritated sigh. He turned, looking tired and irate at being held up…perhaps now he'd know how he felt every time Jefferson insisted on spending the night or occupying the same room he did. "I'd like you to have care about when you return."

"'Have care about when I return'?" he mocked. "Can you just tell me what you want me to do?"

"Alright. I want you to return…in the middle of a lesson with Regina."

"Aren't you always the one promising death and pestilence and famine if I interrupt your business?"

"Perhaps but this time around I'd like to have you offer her a deal. It involves a certain…talent that you possess and I don't."

"You want me to take her somewhere."

"No, I'd like you to offer to bring someone here for her. I'd like you to dangle the hope of having Doctor Victor Frankenstein from the World Without Color come here…and raise that dead lover of hers."

Despite his exhaustion Jefferson's eyes suddenly widened. "That?!" he exclaimed. "That's the plan you've been working on?! That's the reason you wanted me to take you to that land, to see that Doctor?!"

"Are you capable?" he questioned, ignoring his outburst.

"You know I'm capable I just don't understand why there's been so much back and forth! I could have brought him here before now and saved myself the trip!"

"Jefferson…" he sighed, putting his hands behind his back and stepping forward. "Despite what you may think, this castle…it's not an inn. And some situations are far too delicate to cut corners. Regina must be the one to ask for this. I can't do it on her behalf and nor can you. And with her jumping in and out of this castle nearly as frequently as you do…it has to look as though I've had nothing to do with it. My hands must appear clean in all this, and you! You must make the Doctor sound appealing so that she asks for you to bring him."

"Yeah, right, I got it I know what to do, I'm a good salesman, but…"

"But?" he questioned. He'd been halfway to his wheel when he'd come upon that awful word. He didn't like "buts" in his deals.

"What if he refuses to do it?"

"He won't," he assured him, sitting back down at his wheel so he could spin gold. He had found in the past, on those few occasions when Jefferson was wary of a task, it helped to remind him of the payment he would receive. And since spinning was so calming, he was hoping it might help him not murder the boy for his questions and steer the conversation back to what he really needed to discuss with him, and that was the matter of payment. "The deal with the Doctor has already been struck, and I think you'll find he's waiting for your arrival. I've already convinced him. Upon your return, it'll be your job to convince, Regina."

"I assume my wage will be the same as it always is?" he questioned finally.

"And more if you play your cards right!" he declared, spinning himself on the stool so he faced his companion once more.

"More? In what way?"

"Oh, I'm sorry…I thought you knew what to do!" he taunted.

Jefferson opened his mouth, but then closed it again as his eyes wandered in his sockets as if searching for something. Obviously, he wanted him to tell him what he had in his mind, but at the same time he didn't want to admit he didn't know what he was talked about as he'd stated. Rumpelstiltskin merely smiled. It was a low blow, but when it came to Jefferson, sometimes he couldn't resist the temptation to remove some of that smugness he held onto so dearly. Finally, he sighed and shrugged in defeat.

"I don't know what to say, and I'm exhausted. Can you just tell me what you are thinking, Mister Gold, Sir?" he questioned, batting his eyes like the small child he knew he was trying to make him feel he was. He refrained from laughing as he rose to his full height. It was just one of the many reasons he didn't like having the boy stay here. He knew their relationship was well defined, Jefferson was a Realm Jumper, he paid him to find objects of great importance, and in return, he turned a blind eye when the boy all but lived in his castle. But there were times that he worried Jefferson thought it was more. That was why what he was about to suggest made so much sense. It should work for Jefferson, but it should also spare him more of these fatherly conversations. He had a son. He wasn't in the market for a new one.

"Well, I'm the mastermind in this little project, dearie, but if you do make the sale appropriately, Regina will never know it! Which means you could potentially claim a little fee from her on your own."

"More money! I wouldn't turn that down."

He let loose a giggle at the simplicity of his thinking as he sat back down at his wheel and began to spin once more. "You need to think a little bigger, dearie! Broaden your horizons. Regina is the Queen of a very large Kingdom, one that does not permit Realm Jumpers to use their magic unlike…say…my Kingdom."

"You think I should ask for what? A change in the law?"

"No!" he hissed, rising to his feet again and dancing closer to him with every single syllable. "No, no, no! That would open the entire Kingdom up to your kind, that's the last thing you want for business if you want to be the sole authority on the subject," he explained as he circled, roping him in further. "No, what you want…is a royal pardon."

"A royal pardon…like forgiveness."

"Exactly!" he shrieked, moving back to step in front of him. "You want permittance to practice your craft and jump from realm to realm so that you are not so limited within her Kingdom. That hat of yours only takes you realm to realm. Aren't you tired of only ever hopping place to place, then beginning that long, long, long…long trek home each and every time?" he questioned. He knew the answer to that was "no", not recently because he hadn't been "home" in so long. Not being able to jump to any place he wanted in this realm was the reason he stayed at the castle so often! But everyone, even Jefferson, dreamed of having a home. And it was clear the moment Jefferson began to smile that he had missed that aspect as well no matter how much he might have claimed not to in the past.

"It would be nice. Wouldn't help me in King George's Kingdom, but hers is certainly closer to home than yours is."

"Indeed," he muttered, sitting back down at his wheel. And it would certainly benefit him. He might actually get his solitude back once more and not have to go in search of breakfast only to wander into his Great Room and find Jefferson waiting there for him.

"So, is this what you do all day?" Jefferson questioned, suddenly appearing at his side, leaning against the bookshelf by his wheel with his arms crossed over his chest and that smug look of interest on his face again. So much for beating that out of him. "When you're not with Regina, that is? You sit up here in your little tower and scheme; just think about deals others could make."

"Mmm…mostly," he answered as he began to spin the great wheel and work the wool in his hand into thread. There was something poetic about it, about individual fibers that had nothing to do with one another coming together, spinning into a tight, neat piece of workable thread. He supposed that Jefferson was right. Even when he wasn't spinning fiber into thread, he was almost always certainly spinning something or someone into something useful. And he always would, until the day that curse was cast and he was back with Baelfire again.

"And they come from everywhere? Just to have you take advantage of them?"

"All over."

"Regina's Kingdom?"

"Many."

"Maurice's Kingdom?"

"Few."

"The village in your own?"

"Oh, nearly all of them. Everyone always needs something…or so they think. And if they can't, they can always be convinced."

"Even the guy in the house at the bottom of the mountain? What did he need?"

The house at the bottom of the mountain?

"What?"

"The house, you know, the one at the bottom of the mountain? Sweet old man, offers me tea when I see him." He stopped his wheel as a shiver threatened to give away his confusion. There were no houses on this mountain. There were no homes at all beyond the village and certainly no houses at the bottom of his mountain. Who would have been brave and stupid enough to construct one so close to his domain? But the way Jefferson said it, without a hint of doubt...

"There is no house at the bottom of the mountain."

"Of course, there is. Maybe you didn't hear me. Sweet old man lives there. I've been inside when he offers me tea. Obsessed with sweeping, I assume he made a deal for a broom that never breaks. Or perhaps to keep his robe red."

A red robe.

He felt himself resist a shudder again and knew suddenly that it wasn't out of confusion as he'd initially thought. No, it was something far more sinister, something far deeper and more magical that gave him that feeling of…fear. He hadn't felt fear before, not since taking up the mantle of the Dark One. And he wasn't about to start now. It was Nimue, she was the Dark One that fear was born of. It was the images she had in her mind of a boy in a red robe following Merlin around like a helpless puppy; images of a man in a red robe that was eerily similar hunting her down, stealing away a box that contained what he knew to be a hat-the same hat he'd seen in memories from Zoso...protected by none other than an old man in a red robe.

The house at the bottom of the mountain…it would take a lot of magic to hide from him, to not even be sensed. The Apprentice, he could do it. But he wasn't the only one. There were maybe half a dozen other sorcerers in this realm who could muster the magic to do it properly. Whether it was one of them or the Apprentice, he didn't take kindly to knowing any of them were practically camped out on his front lawn, and he hadn't a clue! But still…he had to know. If the Apprentice was there, if the hat was there…he could think of one way to be sure. It had to be magic that wasn't his own, magic the Apprentice couldn't plan on, and fortunately he knew exactly where to send Jefferson to get it.

"There's one last thing I'd like from Oz; while you're there, of course."

Jefferson's brows furrowed, he could only assume it was in confusion for how quickly the conversation had shifted. Frayed as his nerves felt at the moment he dared the boy to ask him about it. Finally, Jefferson shrugged. "Okay, sure. What do you need?"

"Several times, you've mentioned a bauble the Wizard possesses, or possessed as it were, which allowed him to see people, situations."

"Oh yeah, that. It's in the Wizard's Chambers, at least it was the last time you sent me there. Easy grab so long as the guards are looking the other way and the witch isn't in town."

"Excellent," he snarled. "While you're there…grab it."

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Jefferson #Mad Hatter #Regina #Evil Queen #doctor frankenstein #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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