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kurimiaki · 2 years

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Just as I can be so cruel

Malleus Draconia, Twisted Wonderland

tw: yandere, forced marriage, female reader, implied kidnapping, posessive behavior

You wonder how many marriages are built on the foundation of fear.

Lilia had told you it was only natural to be scared, to be hesitant in going forth with the dress fittings, to cry and resist and fight back against your inevitable nuptials. “Buck up,” he had whispered in your ear, tightening your corset before squeezing you into a gown, “you’ll never want or need for anything. Isn’t that ideal, for humans like you?”

You take great trepidation in dealing with your fiancée. As cautious as you are around Malleus as of late, you also fear for him, in a way pitying him. As confusing and overwhelming as it is being with a powerful creature such as he, (unwillingly, at that), your betrothed had always seemed somewhat foreign in the experience of romantic love and relationship.

In friendship, those many months ago at Night Raven College, he was wholly alien to your casual outings and terms of endearment. It became endearing, after a while, how amused and jilted he became in lieu of your impromptu nicknames and friendly asides. Perhaps it was because you weren’t initially disillusioned by his rank or identity, didn’t view him as superior or as someone to be feared.

If he was initially so estranged from friendship as a concept, surely he had no prior examples of marriage to go off of, not in any healthy sense. He was vastly intelligent, powerful and adept in the field of magic, wise beyond how he appeared in years, but seemed so stunted and ignorant as to connection and propinquity.

It wasn’t as if Malleus was lonely. By your standards, at least. Sebek showered his young master in such adoration and attention that you wondered how Malleus didn’t suffocate, and Lilia always gave way to how deeply his affections ran for his pseudo-son, as you used to call him.

This is what made it so strange that you were proposed to in the weeks after you returned home, an eagerly wide-eyed graduate, hopeful for the future you had worked towards arduously for many years. The instant your parents had received a letter from the crown prince’s esquire, formally asking for your willing hand in marriage, such dreams were smothered out. You were whisked away to Briar Valley without a single say in the matter.

Malleus is your friend. Never your lover. He’s only misconstrued what sort of commitment you were willing to pursue with him, and it’s on you to amend this misconception, isn’t it?

But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to justify and redirect your friends’ actions when he does things like this.

“At least let me see my parents before you delude them into thinking I’m your willing bride,” you fluster, storming after Malleus’ towering form down the winding castle halls. Portraits and tapestries line aged cobblestone walls, leering down at you as you pointedly ignore their existence. It’s cold, dewy, abysmal weather outside, and his mood isn’t any better. He doesn’t respond, and it scares you, but you refuse to relent.

You tug on the loose fabric of his coat, as if he’d feel such a small action. “Malleus, please. Why must you be so difficult? I just need to-“ he turns, suddenly coming to a halt, finally uprooted from his indifference by your taunts. You bristle, clenching your fists and steeling yourself— but he’s still so frigid, so monotone, maintaining apathy that stings worse than anger —and continue with your tirade.

“Can we just sit down for a moment. You wanted to discuss the particulars of the guest list, didn’t you? We can work out all of the kinks.” He considers you, bright green eyes tearing into you, as if you were live on a vivisection table, and relents. He always does.

Your bedroom is the only modicum of autonomy you have to cling to, at present, and he invades it by his presence all the same. You’ve made it your home, these past months, arranging and rearranging near ancient pieces of furniture. You fume once more as he casually lounges on an ottoman, never uttering a single word, making you appear so dumb and flustered standing before him. And you are, admittedly and rightfully, furious with him.

Your fiancée raises his brows, expectant.

“I found out that my mother was kept from entering the castle yesterday morning, and by your orders, she’s been sent home. Can you first give me an explanation for that?” you cross your arms, keeping a passable distance from him. Malleus sighs, brows sharply furrowing, as if he was frustrated at being caught.

But he knew you knew, that your family had finally made attempts at contacting you, perhaps hoping to make up for the unceremonious decision to acquiesce to Malleus’ proposal without your consent. If only to ensure that they’ll be the ones to receive your supposedly hefty dowry. Even when you get yourself out of this, you can hardly imagine ever forgiving them, but you were more so disturbed by the revelation that Malleus had also been keeping your mother’s letters from you. You had stumbled upon three month’s worth, kept tightly bound upon his desk.

“And you’re sure of this?” He begins, crossing his arms and regarding you, and you know you cannot rat out the fae who had lay bare this information to you. Malleus frowns as you nod, and rises from his seat.

With a slow, ominous pace he approaches you, lifting both hands to rest on your shoulders. It’s difficult and annoying to have to crane your head so sharply, but you’re adamant on keeping to his gaze all the same. Your neck burns. “Malleus, I’m not angry. I just don’t understand it. You were so accommodating and kind to them back in my village, so why this…?”

He smiles at your words, in a manner you interpret as blatantly condescending. As if your concerns were so simple and unfounded, and his actions easily dismissible. “It’s not totally untrue, I’ll admit to that. Your mother showed up rather early in the morn for a human, disheveled and demanding to be let in…” he trails, tutting and frowning down at you in mock disapproval, as if to perform genuine emotion.

You don’t speak, allowing him to continue. At this, he strokes a strand of your hair affectionately. You flinch, but if he noticed, he doesn’t show it.

“To relieve you of your confusion, my dear, you must understand that I had to turn your mother away in an act of self-preservation.” You gape, openly guffawing at his statement. Before you can refute his words, remind him of his standing as an all-powerful sorcerer of this world, he continues. “She was quite up in arms as to my treatment of her daughter, speaking so degradingly of you, I had to assume that she was jealous of your luxury.”

It’s a ridiculously fabricated lie, you tell him, near frenzied by an onslaught of rage. Childish liar. You call him as such, as he impresses his ridiculous concerns upon you, as if villainizing your mother further will serve to justify his behavior. Now fuming and unwilling to listen further, to hear him droll on about how he’s only protecting you once more, you tear from your betrothed, and supply him with a steady glare.

“You don’t want me around anything that is not you,” you seethe, glowering at Malleus from across the room, “as if i’ll begin to stink the moment I so much as look at another person.” You point and gesture to him in a flurry of frustration, airing your every grievance without filter or fear, naming him a captor rather than a lover, insisting that he just let you go.

He remains unmoving from where he last stood, malignant green eyes trailing your every movement. And he begins to frown, after a while, when your words turn more brutal and accusing, when spit flies from your mouth as you squawk and scream and bawl your ireful allegations. You shut up when he approaches you, at least, eyeing him now with specks of fear and trepidation in your glimmering eyes.

Malleus was never one to be loomed over or missed, standing as tall as he does, his presence so all-consuming and numbing, you often forget yourself, when by his side. It’s different, you suppose, being his lover, to be subjected to the mild affections of a creature that hardly ever acted in the interests of his peers. You could barely conjure the idea that he would lay a harmful hand to you, the weak human he works so hard to protect and constrain to his side.

He raises a hand to your cheek, gently, and you flinch as his nail grazes your cheekbone. You feel yourself falter and freeze as he encloses his arm around your waist, pulling you to him so intimately, so much closer than you’d been with any person before. Malleus sighs, stroking your cheek languidly, distracting and diverting you from your fury, albeit momentarily. You fluster, blush, but don’t forget yourself, and begin to struggle, swatting away his loving caresses.

At once, he becomes volatile. Your cheeks are snatched in a vicious grip, sharp, black nails threatening to puncture soft skin. You struggle to inhale from how sharply and strongly he holds your waist. “Hurts,” you blubber, grappling and clawing at the fabric of his coat desperately, but he only smiles. His hand squeezes, digs, pries into your cheek, and you cannot bear how cruelly he leers down upon you, this creature who used to be your friend.

Malleus was closer than touch, crushing you to him, basking in your apparent dread and terror. Like a cruel child, you distantly muse, who’s gotten a toy after beating it out of the hands of someone younger and weaker, a baby whos too scared to tattle.

“You’d do good to be a little nicer to me, you cruel little thing,” he starts, so chiding and so terribly infuriating that you almost disregard your fear once more, but his grip is still iron-clad and crushing, “I don’t know how much more I can tolerate from your degradation.”

“Everything I’ve done, my every move thus far, I have done for you. I’m not blinded nor jaded by my love, as you presume to think— in fact, I’m thinking quite clearly.” He inches closer, too close, close enough that you can see how his irises are more reptilian and slitted than you had though, so inhuman. His lips are furled, and you can feel your eyes gloss with tears as his edgy breath wafts over your face.

“So misguided, so silly you are, to believe I’d ever take you as my bride haphazardly. That we were nothing more than acquaintances.”

And he pulls away, finally allowing you to breathe, though you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to grace this bedroom without feeling the phantom of his crushing touch. His hand lingers on yours, thumb tracing over the delicate band of your engagement ring. No longer is your mind clouded with worthless euphemism and foolish hope— this is Malleus, laid bare and exposed on his back, stripped of all niceties and facades, demonstrating for you the brunt of his love.

He raises your cold limp hand to his lips, satisfied with your pliant, lamblike mien. Rid of all nasty hatred, instead flushed with fear, which he accepts as gracefully and warmly as he would your love.

#yandere tw #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland #malleus #malleus draconia #twst #yandere twst #yandere fic #my writing #subtle jareth referencing 🧏🏻‍♀️

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voidpetrova · 8 months

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quick rinse — jeremy gilbert x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: swearing, suggestive content, reader is a cliché car girl — fluff

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: jeremy will do everything he can to keep an eye on the girl at the school's car wash

✧.*

under the scorching sun of a late spring afternoon, the grounds of mystic falls high school buzzed with anticipation. the annual charity car wash was in full swing, with colorful banners flapping in the breeze and clusters of students bustling around buckets, sponges, and hoses. the air was filled with the scent of soap and the distant laughter of teenagers eager to contribute to a good cause.

amidst the organized chaos, you stood beside a gleaming sedan, a determined grin on your face as you attacked a particularly stubborn smear on the windshield. dressed in a pair of faded denim shorts and a vibrant bikini top covered by a light, sheer tunic, you radiated energy that seemed to rival the sun itself. your friends worked on cars nearby, sharing laughter and shouts across the makeshift wash station.

across the lot, jeremy gilbert, a brooding yet attractive figure, leaned casually against a tree. His eyes were fixed on you as if you were the only person in the entire schoolyard. day after day, he had found himself inexplicably drawn to the car wash, captivated by your grace and determination as you tackled each vehicle with an unwavering enthusiasm.

he watched the way the sun glistened against your skin. you had one leg on the ground, the other bent against the surface of the car's hood as you scrubbed away at the windshield. he could feel his breath hitch as droplets of sweat and cold water dripped down your thigh, forming a small puddle under your feet.

“jeremy, seriously, you've been lurking here every day this week,” elena teased, sauntering over with a sly grin. “if you're going to stare, at least make it less obvious.”

jeremy tore his gaze away from you, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “i can't help it. she's just—she's something else, elena.”

she chuckled and bumped his shoulder playfully. “well, lucky for you, i happen to know her. that's (y/n), my friend from way back. she's just as amazing on the inside as she looks on the outside.”

jeremy's interest was piqued, and a mixture of nerves and excitement danced in his eyes. “do you think you could introduce me?”

elena's grin widened. “of course! in fact, why don't you help out at the car wash? it's for charity, after all.”

he hesitated, his gaze flickering back to you as you expertly wrung out a sponge. “i guess it wouldn't hurt to pitch in.”

a sudden heat crept up his cheeks as you peeled your tunic off, revealing the vibrant bikini top that had, unknowingly, become the star of his daydreams. he swallowed hard, his fingers unconsciously curling around the edge of the car's roof. his heart raced as you wiped a bead of sweat from your forehead, the gesture both casual and intimate.

“elena wasn't exaggerating when she said you were committed to this,” jeremy finally managed to say, his voice betraying a mix of admiration and bashfulness. you chuckled, shooting him a playful grin as you wrung out the sponge in your hand. “well, it's for a good cause,” you paused to meet his gaze, eyes twinkling as he stared at you. “you're elena's baby brother, aren't you?” the soft breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of soap and the faintest hint of blooming flowers. he found himself unable to tear his eyes away as you worked, your every movement seeming to flow with an innate rhythm that held him captive.

jeremy's eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “yeah, that's me. the one and only.” you shook your head, still smiling. “i've heard so much about you from elena. she talks about you with this mix of exasperation and affection that's pretty endearing.”

his lips quirked up in a fond smile, his nerves slowly easing in the warmth of your presence. “she's something, isn't she?”

“she is.” you resumed your scrubbing, your attention split between the car and keremy. “so, what made you decide to join our little car wash brigade?”

jeremy leaned casually against the car, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a thoughtful expression. “well, besides the fact that i can't resist your car-washing skills, i wanted to do something different. and helping out for a good cause seemed like a great way to start.”

you raised an eyebrow playfully, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “oh, so you're saying my car-washing skills were the main draw here?”

he laughed, a genuine, unguarded sound that resonated through the air. “can you blame me? you make it look easy.”

as the sun continued to dip below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over everything around you, the conversation flowed effortlessly. the transition from strangers to acquaintances felt natural, the ease of your interactions comforting and exciting all at once.

jeremy leaned in slightly, his eyes focused on a particularly intricate part of the car's engine. “it's a nice engine belt, huh.”

you couldn't help but smile at his attempt, appreciating his genuine interest. “close, jeremy. it's actually called the serpentine belt. it's responsible for driving various components of the engine, like the alternator and the power steering pump.”

he nodded, a mixture of fascination and curiosity evident on his face. “wow, you really know your stuff.”

you shrugged modestly, a faint blush rising to your cheeks. “i've been working on cars since i was twelve. my dad used to own a small auto shop, and he taught me a lot.”

his admiration was clear in his eyes, and a warm smile spread across his lips. “that's seriously impressive, (y/n). i mean, most people my age would probably struggle to change a tire.”

you chuckled, appreciating his honesty but shrugging nonetheless. “i don't like to flaunt my knowledge, guys don't really like it when you know more about cars than them.”

his gaze lingered on you, a newfound admiration dancing in his eyes. “it's really cool that you have that kind of knowledge. it's— attractive, honestly.” the sincerity in his words sent a delightful shiver down your spine, your heart skipping a beat. “well, thank you, jeremy. i'm glad you think so.”

as the conversation flowed, you found yourselves delving into the intricacies of car mechanics, each exchange strengthening the connection that was forming between you. the sun had now fully set, and the car wash area was illuminated by the soft glow of overhead lights, casting a cozy ambiance over the scene.

jeremy's curiosity and genuine interest in your passion were evident as he asked questions and soaked in your explanations. with each topic you covered, he seemed more captivated, more drawn to the depth of your knowledge and the enthusiasm with which you shared it.

as the night wore on, you both stood by the car, the faint hum of conversation and laughter from the other students providing a soothing backdrop. the world seemed to narrow down to the two of you, lost in the exchange of ideas and stories. and in that shared space of learning and connection, jeremy and you continued to build a foundation, one that held the promise of something more—a connection fueled by mutual admiration, respect, and a growing attraction that neither of you could deny.

as the car wash event wrapped up, the two of you found yourselves caught in the magnetic pull of continued conversation. the stars were starting to twinkle in the night sky, and the idea of extending the evening seemed natural. jeremy cleared his throat, his gaze a mixture of nerves and excitement.

“hey, (y/n), i was thinking— maybe we could grab a drink or something? there's this bar not too far from here.” you smiled, touched by his invitation. “that sounds like a great idea, jeremy.”

he fumbled for his phone in his pocket. “i can call us a cab if you'd like.”

you shook your head with a playful glint in your eyes. “actually, i've got something better. follow me.” jeremy didn't know what exactly he was expecting—a personal car, perhaps? maybe a limo or personal driver? curiosity lit up his face as you led him towards a sleek, parked yamaha motorcycle nearby. he looked at you in surprise, his eyebrows raised. “you ride a motorcycle?” you nodded, a grin playing on your lips. “oh, yeah. i'm a bit of a car and bike enthusiast.”

his astonishment was evident, and his eyes sparkled with a newfound intrigue. “you never cease to amaze me.”

after a few quick instructions, you handed jeremy a helmet and swung your leg over the motorcycle. he followed suit, fitting the helmet onto his head and securing it in place. you could feel his arms wrap around your waist, a warmth seeping through your clothing and sending a shiver down your spine.

“ready?” you asked, your voice carrying a mix of excitement and anticipation.

“absolutely,” he replied, his voice close to your ear, sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

with a gentle rev of the engine, you set off into the night. the wind rushed past you, the cool breeze making the air feel electric. as you navigated the streets with the precision and confidence of a seasoned rider, jeremy's grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, his body pressed against yours.

the city lights created a vibrant tapestry as you weaved through the streets, the familiar rumble of the engine blending with the distant sounds of nightlife. the two of you communicated in a language of shared adventure, every twist and turn a testament to your unspoken connection.

at a red light, you stole a glance at Jeremy through the rearview mirror. his hair was tousled by the wind, his eyes alight with a mixture of excitement and exhilaration. it was a sight that stirred something within you—a sense of newfound intimacy, a shared moment that felt suspended in time.

when the light turned green, you accelerated smoothly, the motorcycle responding to your touch. the sensation of the open road, the freedom of the night, and the presence of jeremy behind you created a symphony of emotions that resonated in your heart.

as you approached the bar, you gradually slowed down, bringing the motorcycle to a graceful halt. jeremy dismounted, his movements fluid and graceful. removing his helmet, he looked at you with an expression that held a hint of awe.

“that was incredible, (y/n). i had no idea you were this extraordinary.”

you chuckled, a mixture of pride and affection in your voice. “well, now you know.”

hand in hand, you walked into the bar, the world around you seemingly aglow with the magic of the night. the romantic adventure you had just shared on the motorcycle had deepened the connection between you, creating a foundation for the evening ahead—an evening that held the promise of laughter, shared stories, and a budding romance that seemed to mirror the stars above, bright and infinite.

inside the cozy bar, the atmosphere buzzed with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. you and jeremy settled into a corner booth, the dim lighting casting a warm, intimate ambiance. as you exchanged stories, it felt like a natural continuation of the connection you had built at the car wash earlier.

jeremy leaned back against the cushioned booth, his eyes locked onto yours as he listened intently to your tale. “so, you've been into cars since you were twelve, huh? that's impressive dedication.”

you nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “yeah, like i said— my dad owned a small auto shop. he taught me everything i know about cars. we used to spend hours working on them together.”

jeremy's gaze softened, a hint of understanding in his eyes. “i can relate to that. my dad was into cars too. he used to tinker with them in our garage. i learned a lot just by watching him.”

a shared sense of loss lingered in the air, unspoken but understood. you fiddled with your fingers, letting the moment settle between you before continuing. “he passed away a few years ago. it was tough, but working on cars has always been a way for me to feel connected to him.”

jeremy's expression grew solemn, a mix of sympathy and camaraderie in his gaze. “i lost my parents too, in a car accident. it's been hard trying to move forward without them.”

“i'm so sorry to hear that,” you said softly, reaching across the table to place a reassuring hand on his. “losing a parent is something you can't replace. but maybe we can find a way to honor their memories by carrying on their passions.”

he gave you a small, appreciative smile. “yeah, i'd like that. you know, maybe you can teach me a thing or two about cars. it would be nice to feel that connection again.” you returned his smile, a warm spark of enthusiasm igniting within you. “absolutely. i'd be happy to help you learn.”

the conversation flowed seamlessly as you talked about cars, shared memories, and traded anecdotes about your families. as the night wore on, jeremy's curiosity about your preferences took a playful turn. “what can i get you to drink?”

you leaned back, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “surprise me.”

he chuckled, looking amused by your response. “alright, how about a cocktail?”

you tilted your head in consideration before shaking it. “actually, i'll have a beer.”

his eyebrows lifted in surprise. “a beer? i didn't see that coming.”

you grinned, your expression unapologetic. “gotta keep you on your toes, right?” the corners of his lips curled upwards in an affectionate smile. “you certainly have a way of doing that.”

as jeremy headed to the bar to fetch your drinks, you watched him move through the crowd with an air of newfound familiarity. the warmth that had blossomed between you felt like a promise of something more—something built on shared experiences, mutual understanding, and the undeniable attraction that had drawn you together.

as he returned to the table, the clinking of glasses marked the continuation of your evening together. the laughter and stories flowed, creating a tapestry of connection that seemed to erase the boundaries of time and space. the bar's ambiance seemed to echo the sentiment, with its soft lighting and cozy atmosphere cocooning the two of you in a world of your own.

as the night deepened, you couldn't help but reflect on how this chance meeting at the charity car wash had unfolded into something far more significant. the shared passion for cars had been the catalyst, but it was the genuine connection that had truly set the stage for the enchanting evening.

with every glance, every laugh, and every story shared, it became clear that your encounter with jeremy was a turning point—a moment that held the promise of a new chapter in both of your lives. and as you raised your glasses in a silent toast to the future, you knew that the stars above weren't the only things shimmering with potential that night.

under the bright morning sun, jeremy awoke with a sense of anticipation in his chest. the golden rays filtered through his curtains, casting warm patterns of light on his bedroom walls. stretching languidly, he let out a contented sigh, his mind immediately wandering back to the previous day's interactions.

as he made his way downstairs, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the distant sounds of chirping birds. the comfortable hum of morning surrounded him, creating a sense of coziness that wrapped around his senses like a familiar embrace.

elena was already in the kitchen, her brows furrowed in concentration as she stared at her phone screen. her lips curved into a smile as her little brother entered the room. “good morning, sleepyhead.”

he returned her smile, his curiosity piqued by the look on her face. “hey, what's got you so engrossed? elena let out a half-amused, half-frustrated sigh. “my car's acting up. it just won't start.”

a spark of realization lit up jeremy's eyes. “wait, didn't you use it to drive back home last night?”

elena nodded, her frustration palpable. “yeah, and now it's completely dead. i don't know what's wrong with it.”

jeremy's mind immediately leapt to a solution. “you know, I think I might know someone who can help.”

elena's eyebrow arched inquisitively. “oh, do tell. who's this mysterious someone?”

jeremy's cheeks tinged pink as he hesitated, his voice a touch uncertain. “your friend, (y/n)? i think she's really knowledgeable about cars. maybe she can figure out what's going on.”

elena's lips curled into a knowing smile. “ah, i see. you're hoping to impress her, aren't you?”

jeremy's blush deepened, but he couldn't deny it. “well, she seems to know a lot about cars. it's worth a shot.”

elena chuckled, her gaze filled with mischief. “alright, go ahead and call her then.”

taking a deep breath, jeremy dialed your number. after a few rings, you answered, your voice carrying a sense of energy even through the phone.

“hey, jer. what's going on?”

he cleared his throat, the nervousness returning. “hey, (y/n). i was wondering if you could help us out. my sister's car broke down, and i thought maybe you could take a look at it?” there was a brief pause before your voice chimed in again, this time laced with enthusiasm. “of course, i'd be happy to help. where's the car?”

as jeremy provided the address, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. he hung up the phone with a mix of hope and anticipation, unsure of what the day would bring but eager to spend more time with you.

when you arrived at elena's place, jeremy's heartbeat quickened as he caught sight of you stepping out of your car. dressed in a snug tank top and shorts, you looked effortlessly confident, a toolbox in hand, and an aura of readiness surrounding you. your hair was half-up and half-clipped back, a few front strands dancing in the gentle breeze.

as you approached elena's car, your attention was fully captured by the task at hand. jeremy watched in awe as you bent over the open hood, your fingers deftly navigating the engine components. you explained each step with a mix of concentration and clarity, making it easy for elena and him to follow along.

“—so, it looks like this wire right here came loose, which is causing a disruption in the ignition system,” you explained, your tone informative yet approachable.

elena nodded, genuinely impressed. “wow, you really know your stuff.”

jeremy found himself nodding in agreement, his admiration growing with each passing moment. your expertise was matched only by your ability to explain complex concepts in a way that was easily understandable—a rare combination that only deepened his intrigue. after a few minutes of focused work, you stood up, wiping your hands on a rag. “there we go, that should do it.”

elena eagerly hopped into the driver's seat and attempted to start the car. a victorious smile crossed her face as the engine roared to life.

“thank you so much, (y/n)! you're a lifesaver,” elena exclaimed, her gratitude evident.

you smiled warmly. “no problem, happy to help.”

as you turned to leave, jeremy's heart raced with a mixture of excitement and something more. “hey, (y/n), hold on a sec.”

you turned back, your gaze curious. “yeah?”

he cleared his throat, his voice a touch nervous. “um, would you maybe want to grab dinner with me sometime? you know, as a thank you for helping with the car?”

a playful smile danced on your lips, and you stepped closer. “well, that depends. are you asking me out on a date?”

jeremy felt a rush of anticipation as he met your gaze. “yeah, i am.”

you leaned in, your voice softening to a whisper. “well, then, i think i'd like that.”

in a heartbeat, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a gentle yet electrifying kiss. the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you connected by a magnetic pull that was impossible to resist.

when you finally pulled away, your eyes locked onto each other's, a shared warmth and excitement in the air. jeremy couldn't help but feel that this moment was like a scene from a movie—a serendipitous encounter that had blossomed into something far more significant.

with a final, lingering look, you stepped back, promising to text him about the details of your dinner. jeremy watched you go with a sense of wonder, realizing that what had started as a chance meeting at a charity car wash had turned into a life-altering connection—one that held the promise of shared laughter, deep conversations, and a romance that had ignited unexpectedly but brilliantly.

as he stood there, watching you disappear from view, he couldn't help but feel that the road of life had taken an unforeseen turn—one that had led him straight to you, a car enthusiast who had not only fixed his sister's car but had also fixed something within his own heart. and as he looked to the future, he was eager to see where this newfound connection would take him.

#tvd #tvdu #the vampire diaries #legacies #the originals #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries fluff #the vampire diaries angst #the vampire diaries smut #jeremy gilbert #jeremy x reader #jeremy gilbert x reader #jeremy gilbert x reader smut #jeremy gilbert fluff #jeremy gilbert smut #jeremy gilbert angst

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run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 2 years

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I go a bit crazy when I remember that article mentioning how Izzy wants to be owned, which could be taken as just sexually but also more like belonging to/with someone romantically. If you're ever inclined, it would be very cute to see Izzy melting when his SO calls by possive petnames. As their relationship progresses the more they call him 'my love', 'my dear', 'my darling', 'my sweetheart', 'my Izzy'. He secretly loves it, and not so secretly when it happens during more sexy, intimate activities. Also, your writing has only gotten better and better as you've published. Thank you for sharing your lovely work!

Thank you so much, I hope I'm always improving. There are so many talented people in this fandom! Sorry this is kinda short!

Warnings: short NSFW scene

Your Izzy:

Izzy knew that you were a possessive partner, he liked that you were a possessive partner. What he had to come to terms with was the difference between the possession you expressed and the form of possession that he was used too.

Edward, Blackbeard, had been possessive. Izzy was his first mate, his right hand, his weapon.

Yours was a tender possession, a requited possession. He was yours, fully and wholly, but you were equally his.

You had always been a fan of using pet names, ever since the two of you got together. Izzy wasn't used to it at first, wasn't used to hearing somebody refer to him with such sweet names, meaning it so sincerely. Whenever you called him 'love' or 'hun' or 'sweetheart', you would have this look in your eyes. Something incredibly soft and tender, downright adoring.

It had been a lot but he got used to it, came to adore it. To need it.

Then you had apparently decided that you needed to throw him off again, to make him need you more.

'Love' had become 'My Love', a small change that you never addressed but Izzy certainly noticed. And when you did it the second time, he knew the first hadn't been a slip of the tongue, and then you just continued with it.

All your usual endearments turned possessive. He wasn't just a sweetheart (though he would deny he was anyway), he was your sweetheart. Your love. Your dearest. Your darling. Yours.

It was already too much, more than Izzy thought he could ever deserve, but then you had to completely ruin him.

There you both had been, locked away in his cabin. You had long since stripped him of his clothes, had been edging him for god knows how long. He had lost count of the amount of orgasms you had drew him up to before denying him of it.

With you hand wrapped around him, you had lent in to him. You placed a tender kiss to his cheek, the softness almost making him sob, before mouthing at the shell of his ear.

"So good for me, my love," you cooed, "come for me now, my sweet. My wonderful, sweet, Izzy."

"My Izzy," and that's all it took, Izzy's vision whiting out as he spilled into your hand.

Once he came back to his senses, he was greeted by the sight of you cleaning him up and whispering words of love and care, smiling at him.

"Fuck..." Izzy breathed out, unable to find any other word to describe how he was feeling.

"I bet," you chuckled fondly, pressing a kiss to his lips. "My Izzy," your tone was only half teasing, clearly you had noticed how much it had affected him. And the little hitch of his breath gave it away all over again.

Izzy had nearly tripped over his own feet when he first heard you refer to him as yours to somebody else. It hadn't been aggressive or hostile, it was casual and that's what caught him the most off guard. Sure, if you were laying your claim that would make sense, but you just sounded proud to call him yours.

"That's My Iz, for you."

"I highly doubt My Izzy would have given you a break."

"No thanks, I'm having supper with My Izzy tonight."

You said it like it was the most natural thing in the word, but every time it felt like a declaration to him.

And whenever somebody refers to him as yours in some way, even if it's playful, he makes him feel some sort of way. Like Lucius calling him your Izzy teasingly when complaining about him. Or when you were speaking with Stede and he so sincerely called him your partner.

Izzy didn't think he would like it, thought he would feel mocked or something, but that wasn't the case. It just cemented everything, the whole crew knew he belonged too and he didn't care if the whole Caribbean knew. He might even like it.

#israel hands x reader #izzy hands x reader #izzy hands #ofmd izzy #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd x reader

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cosmickpopnotes · 2 months

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Txt react to when they do something normal but you find extremely cute

Warnings: None. Just cuteness, once more.

✿ ❀ ❁ ✾ ✽ ❃

‿︵‿︵ʚɞ『 SOOBIN 』ʚɞ‿︵‿︵

You and Soobin had decided to spend the day together, just enjoying each other's company. As you lay in bed, half-awake, you heard a gentle rustling sound. Turning over, you saw Soobin, dressed in his softest pajamas, quietly tiptoeing around the room.

Curious, you watched as he carefully arranged a tray with breakfast essentials – a plate of toast, a bowl of fresh fruit, and two steaming mugs of coffee. He had even picked a small bouquet of flowers from the garden and placed it in a delicate vase.

"What are you up to?" you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Soobin turned around, a sheepish grin on his face. "I thought I'd surprise you with breakfast in bed. Just something simple."

You couldn't help but find the sight incredibly endearing. Here was Soobin, the talented and charismatic idol, taking the time to prepare a cozy breakfast for the two of you. It wasn't an extravagant gesture, but the thoughtfulness behind it made your heart swell with affection.

As he brought the tray over to the bed and set it down, you pulled him into a sweet, lingering kiss. "This is the cutest thing ever," you whispered against his lips.

Soobin blushed, a bashful smile playing on his face. "I just wanted to make our Sunday special."

You spent the morning in bed, enjoying the simple yet delightful breakfast Soobin had prepared. The laughter and easy conversation flowed between you, creating a warmth that went beyond the physical comfort of the cozy blankets.

‿︵‿︵ʚɞ『 YEOJUN 』ʚɞ‿︵‿︵

The previous week had been hectic for both of you, so a quiet weekend at home was exactly what you needed. As you lounged around in comfy clothes, Yeonjun suggested tackling some household chores, starting with laundry.

Yeonjun, looking effortlessly stylish in a simple white t-shirt and faded jeans, gathered up the laundry basket and headed towards the laundry room. You decided to join him, thinking it would be a good way to spend time together while still being productive.

As you entered the laundry room, you found Yeonjun carefully sorting the clothes with a thoughtful expression on his face. He looked up and flashed you a warm smile, "Hey, babe. Thought we could get this out of the way and have the rest of the day to ourselves."

You couldn't help but admire how he managed to make even the mundane task of laundry seem like a romantic gesture. As he bent down to pick up a stray sock, you noticed the playful glint in his eyes. It was as if he found joy in the simplicity of domestic life with you.

While Yeonjun loaded the washing machine, you observed how he meticulously measured the detergent, ensuring each load was perfectly balanced. The concentration on his face was endearing, and you couldn't resist capturing a candid photo of him in action.

"Gotcha!" you teased, snapping the picture.

Yeonjun looked up, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "What? Laundry can be an art form too, you know!"

You laughed, finding his playful defensiveness utterly adorable. The two of you continued with the laundry, sharing light banter and stolen glances as you folded clothes together. Yeonjun even entertained you with a spontaneous dance move, turning a mundane task into a mini dance party in the living room.

‿︵‿︵ʚɞ『 BEOMGYU 』ʚɞ‿︵‿︵

The sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as you both enjoyed the comfort of each other's company. Beomgyu, clad in his favorite oversized hoodie and sweatpants, padded into the kitchen to make breakfast.

As you lounged on the couch, you couldn't help but admire how effortlessly charming he looked even in the most casual attire. Beomgyu had a way of making even the simplest actions appear endearing, and today was no exception.

He started humming a sweet melody while preparing pancakes, the rhythmic sounds of pans and utensils creating a cozy background symphony. The scent of breakfast filled the air, and you couldn't wait to indulge in the delicious meal he was whipping up.

As Beomgyu concentrated on flipping the pancakes, you observed the way his hair fell into his eyes, the gentle furrow of his brows in concentration, and the cute pout that formed on his lips when one pancake didn't cooperate. It was a scene so normal, yet so utterly adorable.

Unable to resist, you grabbed your phone and discreetly snapped a photo of him in his element, capturing the candid charm that only seemed to intensify when he was completely unaware. A soft smile played on your lips as you marveled at the sight of him making breakfast with such genuine enthusiasm.

When he finally turned around to plate the pancakes, he noticed the mischievous twinkle in your eyes. "What's that smile for?" he asked, a playful grin appearing on his face.

You showed him the photo, and his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "Why are you taking pictures of me making pancakes?"

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him, "Because you make even the simplest things look incredibly cute, Beomgyu. It's impossible to resist capturing these moments."

He chuckled back, giving you a gentle peck on the forehead. "Well, as long as you find my pancake-flipping skills cute, I'll gladly make breakfast for you every day."

‿︵‿︵ʚɞ『 TAEHYUN 』ʚɞ‿︵‿︵

It was a typical Friday evening, and you and Taehyun had decided to spend a quiet night at home. As you entered the living room, you found him engrossed in a book, sitting on the couch with his favorite blanket draped over his legs.

What made this ordinary scene exceptionally cute was the fact that he had pulled the blanket up to his chin, creating a cozy cocoon for himself. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the lines of concentration on his face as he turned the pages, completely absorbed in the story.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight, finding the whole setup endearing. Silently, you approached him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and peering over to see what had captured his attention.

"Hey, what are you reading?" you asked, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck.

Taehyun looked up, his eyes lighting up with a gentle warmth as he marked his page with a finger. "Just a novel I picked up today. It's really interesting."

As you settled down beside him, he adjusted the blanket to make room for you. The two of you continued reading in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging glances and sharing small smiles. The way he absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind his ear or the subtle way his lips moved while reading aloud certain passages made your heart flutter.

Eventually, as the evening progressed, you couldn't resist capturing the adorable scene on your phone. The soft click of the camera made Taehyun look up, and you caught his bashful smile as he realized what you were doing.

"What's that for?" he asked, his cheeks tinted with a hint of pink.

"Just capturing the cutest moment of my day," you replied, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek. "You, wrapped up in your reading nook, are absolutely adorable."

Taehyun chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection. "I didn't realize reading could be cute."

"Well, when you do it, everything becomes cute," you teased, snuggling closer.

‿︵‿︵ʚɞ『 HUENINGKAI 』ʚɞ‿︵‿︵

It was a lazy Saturday morning, and you found yourself cozily wrapped up in a blanket, scrolling through your phone in the living room. Hueningkai, your boyfriend, emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of cereal in hand. He had just poured himself a generous serving of his favorite breakfast, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of him.

"What's so cute?" he asked, noticing your amused expression.

You chuckled, setting your phone aside. "Nothing, just you being you."

Hueningkai raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "What did I do?"

"Absolutely nothing," you teased, but your eyes gave away your genuine affection. "It's just... the way you eat cereal is adorable."

He tilted his head in confusion. "Eating cereal is cute?"

You nodded, gesturing to the way he held the bowl close to his face, almost as if he was cradling it. "It's like you're protecting it from the world. And the way you focus on each spoonful, like it's the most important thing in the world. It's endearing."

He laughed, looking down at his cereal with newfound awareness. "I never thought eating cereal could be cute, but I'll take it as a compliment."

As the day unfolded, you couldn't help but notice more of Hueningkai's unintentional cuteness. When he concentrated on a video game, his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth, and his expressions were priceless. Even the way he tied his shoelaces seemed to have a touch of charm.

Later in the afternoon, you both decided to go for a walk in the park. While strolling hand in hand, Hueningkai spotted a stray puppy and immediately knelt down to pet it. His eyes lit up, and a soft smile graced his face as he showered the little furball with affection.

"That's it," you whispered to yourself. "You're officially the cutest person alive."

Hueningkai looked up, catching your admiring gaze. "What did I do now?"

"It's not just one thing; it's everything," you admitted, squeezing his hand. "Your everyday actions, the way you exist in the world, it's all incredibly cute. And I love it."

He blushed, a shy grin spreading across his face. "Well, if being myself makes you happy, then I'll keep doing it."

#beomgyu #hueningkai #kang taehyun #kpop #kpop reactions #soobin #txt #yeonjun #txt reaction

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itsmaferart · 2 years

Text

Spy x Family · · ·Ep 14 · · · A tragedy averted

Warning: This contains spoilers for the anime and manga.

Warning: this is a sad post, talking about tragedy. So you may need tissues Everything is written under my point of view, talking about the anime adaptation. So you are free to have a different opinion.

As I mentioned in a past post, something very interesting about the bomb dogs arc, is how it gives us a touch of reality, reaffirming the true sense of how the universe works within SpyxFamily.

SxF is a drama, disguised as a comedy, where we can see the adventures of a spy, an assassin and a telepath, forming a family for convenience to keep their secrets, obtaining a benefit. Everything is colorful, laughs, with charismatic and endearing characters.

But when we get into the story, we see that not everything is as "joyful" and as "cool" as it seems. SxF is a drama, trying to tell the tragedy that war brings, the political ambition the large-scale consequences, along with the collateral effects left in its wake: blood, tears and pain.

While, the bomb dogs arc, starts off as a casual arc, with a turn-based antagonist that the Forger family indirectly faces. With Twilight leading the way, being a spy, Anya getting in trouble for helping her parents thanks to her powers and Yor using her assassin skills to keep her daughter safe, and indirectly defeating her husband's enemy. This arc further deepens the tragedy, and how from one second to the next, a child's happy life can be destroyed, seeing before his eyes "his own world destroyed."

Visions of a tragic future

Just look at this sequence, and how the anime achieved such tension, showing how a small act could turn the tide. A happy story of a family looking for a new addition to the family, as a pet term unleashed in war.

The bells would be the last sound Agent Twilight would hear after a bomb exploded within seconds, ending his life. This was the spark for the newscasts to spread the news, and the drums of war began to beat.

In the midst of the rubble you hear a scream, a little girl looking through the rubble at her father, the man who took her from an orphanage, who saved her from kidnappers risking his life and his mission. Her unbeatable hero, the great Westalis spy, Twilight, was crushed lifeless in the rubble.

The way this scene is so dark, and shocking to focus on Anya's face, hearing her scream, conveyed an enormous sadness to me.

Knowing that Anya describes her father as "the agent dad, the all-powerful one" being the first father who doesn't get rid of her, who has strived to be a better father to her (even if he denies her affection) we can get an idea of the psychological impact it may have had on her.

This scene easily parallels what Twilight once experienced. Seeing her mother, dead in the rubble starting a war he never asked for.

However, Anya had something that (Redacted) did not have as a child, and that is the opportunity to change the future that lay ahead. Thanks to Bond, Anya decided to do "something about it".

I admire Anya's strength and resilience, perhaps her life inside the lab has made her strong enough to hold the image of her dead father in her head and not collapse from grief. Anya kept going, to change that future despite being "just a child".

As I said, I applaud Endo's ability to show the characters' desperation in serious and humorous ways, without it clashing with the pace of events.

Anya is clearly desperate, plus she was a second away from dying with Bond, if not for him reminding her that opening the door would blow them apart; or seeing that she doesn't know how to defuse a real bomb.

I think this explains a lot about Anya's psychology. She is a child hyper-aware of her surroundings, Anya really understands violence and the consequences, but far from being paralyzed like any other child, she continues with her innocent, optimistic personality, and this explains her fascination to action, adventure programs that show violence as Bond-man. Danger became so natural to her, but she digests it in a more innocent way. Even on the verge of collapse, she does not lose hope.

Now, pausing briefly with Anya. We have another important focus, which is Sylvia, vividly describing the calamity of a war: the smell of blood, seeing your family, lovers and friends dead, eating human flesh and tree bark.

These words can only be spoken and understood by those who have been through hell, and made it out of it. Some would say that they are "those who have seen the abyss straight in the eye, entered the darkness and have come out of it with a vengeance".

Understanding perfectly, Twilight's body language during the interrogation, someone jaded that humans need to live through war as to understand the magnitude, and how ignorantly, many continue to yearn for war, believing it will bring a glorious world, when in reality they are dooming themselves.

A little hope...

I love it, as Anya, feeling her point of collapse not knowing how to keep the bomb from going off, a small glimmer of hope opens up with the most insignificant object, "a bottle of ketchup."

This small act changed the course of their life.

However, if the WISE agent had opened the door, they all would have died. But fortunately, her father's suspicion was the last key piece in changing fate.

I'm impressed that even though I already knew this was going to have a happy ending, I jumped for joy to see that Twilight (Loid) was with his family back in Bond's vision. This scene is beautiful!

Demonstrating that small acts as a team can change the future we believe is written. It is our actions that can save someone's life.

Reflections

In this case SxF is not a shonen telling "the hero's way", and his way to be the "best". It is a tragic story of people who have suffered directly and indirectly from war. Tired of suffering, they want to change their own reality, but evil still prevails and this path in search of peace becomes endless. However, only love can really heal those old wounds, and the support of a family can be the salvation.

I see many people come to underestimate this story just for "being a comedy" when in fact it is a drama "told as a comedy."

While, I love that the story is always funny, fun, full of memorable and hilarious moments. Endo always reminds us that things can change, the fragility of peace, trust and love can easily be destroyed and turn to dust. Hence the importance of protecting peace, because once destroyed, there may be no return for many things.

I'm not saying, SxF will become a drama, with constant suffering for the viewer. But what makes this plot so special are these moments of change, and evolution, moments of tension that give us a more concrete look at what the characters are dealing with. Like Yor in the cruise arc, who was thinking about dying, or Twilight reliving her entire past in a dream.

Forgers are the key to peace

What I love most about this arc, and this story is how the Forgers are indirectly a team, fighting for peace. While, there are moments where they mutually hinder each other's goals. We've seen that indirectly, all three are indirectly saving or stopping each other's enemy. Yor confronting the terrorists, Anya saving Twilight, and Twilight coming face to face with the antagonists…or …. Similar to the arc on the cruiser, when Twilight stopped the bombs that could have gone off, sinking the ship; Anya warning the authorities of the bomb and returning the stiletto to her mom, and Yor confronting the assassins.

The Forgers are an uninhabitable force, and only together can they achieve world and mutual peace.

It really is a great chapter, and a great arc, which leaves me very excited for the next premiere this Saturday.

What did you think?

#sxf twilight #spy x family #twiyor #yor forger #loid forger #yor briar #loid x yor #sxf #anya forger #twilight #spyxfamily twilight #sxf anime #spyxfamily anime #thron princess #agent twilight #bond forger #sylvia sherwood

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yesihaveaobsession · 2 months

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A New Years Promjse

Alastor x female angel reader

Summary: it's been a few months since he's helped you escape from the place that you thought was home heaven, and turns out it was now an end of the year. New year and new you.

A/N: I know it's only the beginning of the year but shush, I thought this was cute. <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was surreal to realize that a new year had dawned even in the depths of hell, and here you were, spending it with the mysterious Radio Demon himself. The journey to this moment had been as unexpected as it was transformative. It all began in the chaotic frenzy of battle, where your paths first crossed. Alastor, with his sharp wit and keen gaze, saw beyond the facade of your celestial form, recognizing the duality within you—a blend of innocence and sin, an action that intrigued him.

Months passed, and casual encounters evolved into something more meaningful. Yet, amidst the growing affection, neither of you dared to label what was blossoming between you. There was an unspoken understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that tethered your souls.

As the revelry of the new year's celebration echoed through the halls of the hotel, you found yourself searching for Alastor. Instinctively, you ascended the grand staircase, guided by a sense of familiarity. And there he was, standing on the balcony, a solitary figure amidst the chaos, his gaze fixed upon the exploding fireworks painting the night sky.

"Hi," you said softly as you stepped out onto the balcony. Alastor turned, a smile stretching across his face as he welcomed your presence. You moved closer, standing side by side, captivated by the spectacle unfolding before you.

"It's quite the spectacle, isn't it, my dear?" Alastor remarked, his voice tinged with admiration. You nodded, sharing in his awe. "It's beautiful," you whispered, your eyes reflecting the vibrant colors above.

Another year had passed, marked by triumphs and difficulties, victories and defeats. Yet, amidst the chaos, you found solace in each other's company. "I'm glad you're here with me," Alastor confessed, his tone gentle yet sincere. You felt the sentiment, a small but genuine smile gracing your lips. Your arms brushed slightly.

As the fireworks continued to illuminate the sky, you found yourself drawn to Alastor's presence, his warmth a comforting contrast to the infernal landscape surrounding you. "Hey Al?" you began, using the endearing nickname that had become synonymous with your affection for him.

"Yes, dear?" Alastor replied, his attention fully on you. You took a moment to gather your thoughts before speaking. "I know we've only officially met this year, but I wanted to say... Thank you. For everything." Your words hung in the air, heavy with gratitude and unspoken emotions.

Alastor's smile widened at your heartfelt expression. "You don't have to thank me, dear. You know I adore you," he replied, his crimson eyes reflecting the flickering lights above. You found yourselves standing closer to each other, your shoulders brushing against each other gently.

The conversation turned lighthearted as you exchanged playful banter, finding comfort in each other's presence. Amidst laughter and shared moments, the countdown to midnight drew near.

As the countdown to midnight continued, the anticipation in the air was palpable. Sensing the moment's significance, Alastor snapped his fingers, conjuring a bottle of champagne and two elegant glasses. You couldn't help but blush at his gesture, marveling at his ability to command the very fabric of hell itself.

With a graceful flourish, Alastor poured the effervescent liquid into the glasses, the golden bubbles dancing in the dim light of the balcony. He handed you a glass, his crimson eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. "To new beginnings," he declared, raising his glass in a silent toast.

As the clock struck midnight, marking the dawn of a new year, you clink your glasses together, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. "To freedom," you whispered, your voice filled with determination and gratitude. Alastor's smile widened, a silent affirmation of the journey that had brought you to this moment, you felt a surge of emotion wash over you. With Alastor by your side, you embraced the unknown future, liberated from the constraints of heaven's expectations.

Together, you drank deeply from your glasses, savoring the taste of liberation and possibility. In that fleeting instant, surrounded by the chaos of hell and the brilliance of the fireworks above, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be—free, together, and bound by a love that defied all expectations.

"Here's to new beginnings," you murmured, raising an imaginary toast to the year ahead. Beside you, Alastor's laughter mingled with the echoes of the fireworks, a symphony of chaos and companionship that defined your journey together.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #i have an obsession

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earthnashes · 2 years

Note

How do the 4 Feathers & Flowers ladies react to physical affection? Do they have a preference for giving or receiving it?

Thank you so much for the question! ;w;

Aight, so the girls. For anyone who needs the reminder, here's the post that shows them in their most current designs! :>

-Kaela is a giver of affection. Her means of doing so is often in loving terms of endearment (she will often refer to anyone she meets "my love", "my sweet", or "sweetie") and casual touch. How she expresses her affection could be likened to being nurturing; it's not unusual for her to hold your hand or give you gentle pats, or give your forehead or cheek a lil kiss when she feels particularly sweet. Her affection is given freely but in a quiet sort of way. As for receiving it, she accepts it gracefully and with appreciation; it's rare for affection to surprise her. :>

-Mal is on neutral ground when it comes to affection; she doesn't initiate often but when she does it's very thoughtful, careful, considerate. Especially so as she learns human customs, which is distinctively different from her home culture. Some of her home customs does bleed through her behavior though, such as bowing and strong eye contact, a kiss to the back of the hand. A human would describe it as "gentlemanly", but it's her simply being polite. If she feels particularly friendly and close to someone you may be subject to the occasional headbutt and, far more often, gifts. As for her receiving affection, she doesn't mind it, enjoys it, but she also doesn't typically seek it.

-Sakura is the most openly affectionate and giver of affection of the girls. Unlike Kaela, Sakura gives her love like she does everything else; loudly. It's usually in the form of crushing bearhugs, back slaps, and crowding into personal space. She's very unafraid to give small but genuine compliments (I love your shirt, it brings your eyes out! Your laugh makes me happy! You look badass with your beard; like a king!) and she's no stranger to giving people nicknames. Her affection is so unrestrained that sometimes she may overstep on accident, but she usually can pick up on that and adjust accordingly. Worst case someone will simply ask her to ease up and she will without a fuss, or she will ask herself. As for receiving affection, she accepts it as freely as she gives it. She loves hugs, and holding hands, and wrestling, and being given a nickname and little endearments. The only time she ever really flusters to affection if it's toward her personality; she doesn't fully know how to accept compliments in that regard.

-Evangeline's show of affection is subtle and quiet. She very rarely ever initiates physical affection (she's far too anxious to) but she shows her love by doing little tasks or helping however she can, and being extremely attentive. She's the type to run for the usual coffee meet-up so she isn't late, remembers almost everything you'll ever tell her; any and all dates that are important to a specific person will be filed away neatly and will stay with her. This is likely why she's great at giving gift suggestions even for people who are notoriously hard to shop for. It helps that her memory is almost scarily accurate. As for receiving affection, she's quite starved for it actually, but is awkward about receiving it. As an only child with a single-parent, hard-working mother and very little friends in her youth, she isn't very used to anything outside the love her family gave her. Touching makes her tense up in surprise, nicknames/terms of endearments may make her heart skip, hugs usually leaves her a blushing mess, and kisses is typically enough to knock her off her axis for hours. She often must be warned before receiving affection.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand ye! I hope that answers your question, and thank you so much again for sending it! ;w;

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amchara · 2 years

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Effortless Ch. 7: Letters, Assessments and Endings

One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven (completed fic)

(Completed fic at Ao3, posting to tumblr with a few minor edits)

Summary: After moving to England to live with Tessa and Jem, Kit ends up attending a local sixth form college alongside his Shadowhunter training.

Featuring- a charming but slightly broken Kit, typical teen drama, mundane friendships, pop culture references, Carstairs-Gray family moments, a rotating cast of our favourite Shadowhunters as guest tutors and of course, some unacknowledged pining for one Ty Blackthorn.

Wordcount: 8,531 words for this chapter

Rating: Teen, cw this chapter: canon typical violence

CHAPTER SEVEN: LETTERS, ASSESSMENTS AND ENDINGS

February-May 2015

As he entered the shadowy training room, Kit could hear the thwack, thwack, thwack of knives being thrown. He was surprised to see it was Tessa, rather than Jem, at the far end of the old ballroom. Her long hair was caught up in a braid, its tail swinging as she leaned forward, catching the early morning light as it streamed through the high windows.

She half-turned as he came up behind her and in her hand he could see a small bo-shuriken being offered to him.

He shook his head. “No, keep going. Jem said you have an instinct for always finding your target- which I don’t. I’ll watch and see if I can pick anything up,” he said. He could acknowledge his weaknesses. Mostly.

Tessa flashed him a smile, and turned back, intent on her task.

Kit leaned against the wall watching Tessa as she finished, each remaining knife finding its way towards the centre of the targets. When he had first arrived to live with them, Tessa had been pregnant and then the first year after Mina had been born she had had enough to keep her busy. But once Mina grew older, every once in a while Tessa joined in on a training session with Kit. The first time she had absolutely demolished the obstacle course Jem had set up for him, Kit had remembered Tessa was not just a warlock- but she also had Shadowhunter blood from her mother.

“Respect.” Kit had whistled, eyeing the knife in the middle of the dummy demon’s forehead.

“I’m more than just an amazing warlock, mother and bookworm,” she had said, giving him a confident wink. Jem had come up behind her to give her kisses on her cheek, murmuring that she had forgotten talented and beautiful and other endearments. Tessa had let out a delighted laugh and Kit remembered the sheer happiness radiating from them.

He had wondered if he would ever find that kind of love.

This morning, Tessa seemed to sense his melancholy. Once she ran out of knives, she walked over to the raised platform and sat down, patting the spot beside her. Kit came over to sit beside her and she slipped a hand behind his waist, pulling him into a comforting hug. Once upon a time, this type of casual affection would have had him as skittish as Church but now, Kit just lay his head down on her shoulder and sighed.

She didn’t say anything, just waited for him. Kit looked down at his arms, the fading black marks and the whitening scars from older runes, and one - the Talent rune - which still glowed an eerie gold colour. He thought for a moment and slowly the golden light began to pool in his left palm.

Tessa watched the light grow and then fade away as Kit let out a frustrated noise. “That’s more control than yesterday,” she observed. It had been three days and Kit had been spending almost every waking hour not at college trying to get his magic to ‘turn on’ at will. So far it had been sporadic.

“Yeah, but I still have no idea what triggers it,” Kit said, straightening up and turning his hands over, as if searching for clues.

“I think I might,” Tessa said slowly. “I think we’ve been approaching your magic in the wrong manner. Warlock magic, it’s- a magic of distance, intellectual and esoteric. With Shadowhunter runes- the rituals of the Silent Brothers, the Iron Sisters - it’s based on devotion, a higher call to duty and heavenly grace. But Fae magic... it’s a magic that is based on life, of all things living and dying. I think it's driven by emotions.”

“Hmm,” Kit said. It made sense but also, kind of difficult to put into practice. He was in tune with his emotions, wasn’t he? “Okay sure but how do I use that?”

Tessa slipped her arm out from around him, and took out a bo-shuriken. Concentrating, she drew the sharp end of the blade across her palm, and immediately, a bloody line appeared.

Kit stood up in alarm. “Wait, Tessa, what are you doing?” He could feel a pulse of power shoot through his arm and an answering warm glow build in his own palm.

“It’s okay, Kit,” she soothed and reached out, her grip iron-strong on his arm. He allowed her to draw it up and hold it hovering over her own palm, the blood now a gathering pool, about to drip onto the ground.

“I’m not in immediate danger,” she told him, her eyes serious. He could tell she knew he was unhappy about this turn of events. “And I can heal this easily with my own magic at any point.” She gestured with her free hand. “But I want you to try and heal it. I want you - to think - no, to consciously feel what you’re doing- try to understand how and why you’re healing me. What that feels like.”

Kit breathed out and nodded, trying to tease out the swirl of emotions and magic building in his chest. Tessa let go of his hand and he held it above hers, the golden glow steady. He concentrated on Tessa and his thoughts- no, his feelings about her. How he was upset at being put on the spot but also feeling shy pride in how much she trusted him. How he was worried about the injury - it looked deeper than he initially thought. How he hated to see her hurt and how much- how much he loved her and wanted to fix it, however he could.

Unlike the pulse when Ellie had been hurt, this time his magic curled out, almost like a cat’s paw and caressed Tessa’s palm. As it cleared away, he could see the cut already healed into a faded scar, barely visible.

Tessa nodded, as he dropped his hand to his side. “It should get easier in time. But I think you’ll have to be deliberate about your intentions and feelings for the time being, if you want to have any sort of control around it. We can practice that, if you like.”

Kit looked down at Tessa, her face impossibly youthful but her eyes watchful and deep with the wisdom that came only from a lifetime and more of experience. He thought about the fact that she had lived several lifetimes already.

He nodded. “Sounds good.” He stepped away, and looked down at his hands again. While the rune was still glowing, there was nothing else to indicate his powers- his were again ordinary human- or more accurately, Shadowhunter hands.

“Do you want Mina to be a warlock? Or a Shadowhunter?” Kit asked suddenly.

Tessa looked unsure about the turn of conversation. “I… it’s not really about what I want. It will likely be up to Mina.”

“When did your other- when did James and Lucie choose?” Kit asked, curious. He thought back to his abilities and how they seemed to not only be tied to his emotions but also tied to his runes- specifically the Talent rune. “Did they choose, or were they kind of forced to be Shadowhunters?”

A sad expression passed over Tessa’s face and Kit felt like he had intruded on private grief. He had never really asked about the long-dead Herondales but Jem and Tessa had brought them up often enough- but only ever happy memories to share with him and Mina.

“It was a different time,” Tessa said slowly. “The Clave- and Shadowhunter society were barely accepting of anyone who was even slightly different.”

“As opposed to now, when they’ve been so open and accepting,” Kit said and she gave the look he knew meant he was being a smartass.

“If I had a chance to go back and do it again- despite the potential unwanted attention it might have put on them, I would ensure James and Lucie were able to understand and hopefully control the additional abilities they inherited from me,” Tessa said. “I thought when their first runes held on their skin, that was it, they were Shadowhunters. They could choose to turn away from the darker aspect of my family’s history. But it followed them anyway, and I…”

She took a deep breath. “I failed them. I don’t want to repeat that- so I will teach Mina to embrace both sides of her heritage. The choice will ultimately be hers- although I am hoping she might not have to choose. You’re showing it’s possible to do both,” she said, giving him a look he couldn't quite read.

She sighed and slipped her hands into her lap, clutching them. “I wanted- want my children to be happy,” Tessa said. “James, Lucie... you and Mina. But sometimes the need to protect overrides that happiness.” She looked at Kit directly and Kit knew without asking that she was now questioning their previous interaction. Whether she had pushed him too far.

He leaned forward and gave her a quick hug. “I’m okay- but please don’t constantly cut yourself if we’re going to practice. Jem gets funny about bloodstains on the training room floor, says they’re a trip hazard.”

Tessa smiled. “I promise. I’m going to go down and start making breakfast. You coming?”

“No.” He wanted to practice a few things. Tessa had given him some ideas. But as she began to leave Kit realised something. “Tessa, when I go to New York-,” he began. He hadn’t wanted to ask before but now he needed to know.

Tessa looked back, and shook her head if she knew his thoughts. “Kit,” she said gently. “You always have a home here in Cirenworth with us. Always.”

And Kit believed her.

Kit,

I should start off this letter by saying I should have sent it a few months ago. When I came back to the Institute and you weren’t there I thought maybe you’d send a text or call. But then I realized you had moved to a new country and would have had to get a new phone and maybe you didn’t have my number. And then I also remembered that I also had a new number because I had thrown my phone in the ocean after I needed to get rid of the evidence.

So I left a message for you at the London Institute with Bridget and she said she’d send it to your house in Devon.

I thought you’d reply. But now I’m thinking she never sent the letter. I guess I can’t blame her- she is over 150 years old and she probably forgot. Or maybe you did get it and you’ve chosen not to reply.

But then Livvy convinced me that it was worth re-writing this letter. Just in case. And when I was home at Christmas, Mark said something about how you had asked about me.

So I thought, maybe you’re no longer upset at me. I’m not mad at you. But I do have a lot of questions and I think we need to talk again about what happened at Lake Lyn. I hope we can do so soon.

Sincerely,

P.S. I know that I could have sent a fire message but my mom always said that the most sincere messages are those that are handwritten and so I thought that you’d appreciate the gesture.

“Who signs their ‘let’s get back together’ letter with sincerely?” Ellie asked, her eyes rescanning the letter, her lips moving over the words.

Kit resisted the urge to snatch the letter back. To distract himself, he took a big sip of his coffee, leaning back on the coffee shop's wooden chair. “We were never together- and it’s not a ‘let’s get back together’ letter at all. It’s just… polite.”

“It is oddly formal for a teenage boy,” Ellie agreed. And Kit realised what he hadn’t told her about Ty.

“Oh no, that’s just Ty,” he said quickly. “He’s- different from the other Shadowhunters.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows. “Different how?”

“Different as in, if he were a mundane, I think he’d be on the spectrum. Like- he’s brilliant and-” Kit said, starting to already defend him.

Ellie let out a small giggle. “Whoa- calm down, I was just asking,” she said. But her eyes softened. “He sounds really cool.” She turned her attention back to the letter and then frowned. “But I can’t believe you don’t have a photo of him. Are you sure we can’t stalk him on Facebook? Snapchat? Instagram?”

“Believe me I’ve already tried. I guess the special warrior academy in Romania doesn’t have internet.”

“Okay but tell me- he’s hot, right?” Ellie said.

Kit thought back to his brief encounter with Ty in London - and to before, even back to their very first meeting when he had thought Ty was the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. He still was. Kit tried to play it cool but was acutely aware of Ellie watching him with delight. He nodded tersely.

“Ooh, you still have it bad,” she said. “Tell me again why it all went so wrong?”

Kit paused. He had briefly filled her in on some details but wasn’t about to tell her about the necromancy attempt or its aftermath. “I uh- it’s complicated. But let’s just say that I tried to tell him how I felt and he just… brushed it off. Like I was nothing.”

Ellie pursed her lips. “Oookay, I see. Did he not-” she stopped, and tapped the letter on the table between them. “Wait… how soon was this after his twin sister died?” Kit had told her at least that much about Livvy.

“Umm,” Kit said. He was beginning to regret the decision to let Ellie see the letter.

“How soon?” Ellie asked, her eyes narrowing at Kit’s hesitation.

“… a few weeks,” he said.

Ellie sat back in her chair, and gave him a look. She muttered something that sounded like ‘clueless, emotionally stunted boys.’ And Kit squirmed but to be honest, he had also started to question some things about that time, so this wasn’t even the worst thing he had thought about himself.

“Right. Moving on,” Ellie said, seemingly taking pity on him. “That’s in the past so you’re going to write him back, right?” She handed the letter back to him and he tucked it away.

“Yes,” Kit said. “But let’s remember- he probably just wants to be my friend, not anything more.” He checked the time on his phone. “But I can’t talk about this now; I have to head to my therapy session. Time to get a grilling of a different kind.”

Ellie reached over and patted his head. He swatted her away, as he stood up. “Proud of you!” she said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. Kit’s third winter in Devon hadn’t been as bad as the previous two, but his mood had still slumped. His motivation had taken a nose-dive on most of his college-related activities and he mostly chose to spend his limited energy on getting a handle on his Faerie abilities and Shadowhunter training. Ade and Ellie had noticed, and rather than have any sympathy, in a moment of weakness they had managed to get him to sign up to the college’s free counselling service. It was alright, Kit admitted. The woman running it was kind and she didn’t force him to talk about anything he didn’t want to - which was a lot of subjects.

He suddenly realised Ellie was still talking “So- depending on how things go… you’re going to have to figure out where you stand with Eamonn,” she said.

“Okay sure, I will,” Kit promised. He started walking away before Ellie could offer any more ‘advice.’ “Oh- also, what did Ty mean when he said ‘had to get rid of the evidence?’” Kit put on another burst of speed. “KIT!”

With only minimal input from Ellie - Kit asked Ade to take her out to a film and dinner - he finished the return letter to Ty. He agonised over what to write.

Ty,

I didn’t get your original letter so I’m glad you wrote it again. No, I’m not mad at you anymore. We do need to talk but I don’t know when we’ll get a chance in person, given you’re still at the Scholomance (I assume) and I’m here in Devon. Maybe we can talk on the phone? Or text. In any case - here’s my new number-

Kit paused after he wrote down his number. How was he supposed to end the letter?

I’ve missed you.

He crossed that out.

Yours,

He crossed that out too.

Sincerely,

Kit

He hurriedly went to buy a stamp and posted it before he lost his nerve.

In addition to his final A-Level exams in May, Kit also discovered he’d have basically the equivalent for Shadowhunting; an assessor would be sent out to test his skills.

“In order to be a full member of the Clave...” Kit read the letter, the first part addressed him, the second to Jem. “Why do I care about being part of a bigoted council of- I mean, great,” he said hastily. If it meant he could go to New York and go on patrols... In the corner of his eye, he could see Jem smother a smile.

“So, who is my assessor?” Kit bounced from foot to foot, craning his neck to see the rest of the fire message. Jem ignored him and finished reading it before handing it to him.

Kit scanned the message. “Isabelle Lightwood?” He thought back to the New York Institute’s training room in December and her dark eyes watching him. While she had been around for the training, she had usually let Beatriz lead it.

Jem watched him. “Yes- is there a problem with Isabelle? She frequently does them for other American Institutes, and it’s not unusual that she might come to England to do yours.”

Kit hoped she wouldn’t hold the fact that he had nearly impaled her against him.

“Nope, that’s great,” he said. He read the last part. “Not until the end of March though.”

“It’s usually about a month before your 18th birthday,” Jem told him.

“I wonder if the test has changed a lot in 150 years,” Kit asked. “Can you give me any tips?”

There was a wistful look on Jem’s face.

“I never had one,” he said.

Kit paused but Jem shook his head. “But I’ll look forward to celebrating yours when you pass.”

“If I pass,” Kit said.

“When,” Jem replied firmly.

“You seem distracted,” Eamonn told him and he pulled away from Kit.

They were at Eamonn’s house, and Kit had carefully angled Eamonn away from the flat, staring eyes of the pro-footballers who adorned almost every surface of Eamonn’s small bedroom.

Kit sighed and sat up, allowing his shirt to fall back down. He had been enjoying Eamonn’s attention but he admitted it had been a distracted appreciation. “Sorry.”

“You stressed about exams, uni applications?” Eamonn asked, offering Kit a sideways glance.

Kit shrugged. “Nah, not really? I just have a lot on my mind.” On his upcoming Shadowhunter assessment, on the fact that he still hadn’t heard back from Ty, even though it was nearly a month later. He turned the question back to Eamonn. “You?”

Eamonn stretched back onto his pillow. “No, me either- I’ve decided on a gap year rather than uni in September, so I’m not even stressed about exams now. I have Exeter on conditional but I’ve deferred, so even if I don’t get the grades, I could always resit or re-apply.”

“Oh, right,” Kit said. There was an awkward silence and he could see Eamonn looking at him curiously. “Yeah- I uh, am planning on a gap year too.”

He suddenly thought back to what Ellie said, and his situation and Ty and… he needed to come clean to Eamonn. He didn’t want to lie to him, even if he didn’t know what the thing with Ty was, or even if it was going to be a thing. Which it probably wasn’t.

“Look Eamonn…” Kit began. He stopped.

Eamonn scrunched up his face, and he shoved himself off the bed. He stood, and Kit felt like he should stand too. So he did. “What are we doing?” he asked Eamonn, confused.

“I just didn’t want to be sitting on my bed when you broke up with me,” Eamonn said, a bit defensively.

“Oh,” Kit said inanely. “I mean- like, I don’t know if we have to break up, or stop doing this but there’s been- someone from my life who’s come back into it and I’m kind of-” He trailed off. No, he just had to say it. “So we should probably stop. I just don’t think it’s fair to you. I’m really sorry.”

He stopped, watching Eamonn’s face carefully. The other boy looked upset and Kit bit the top of his lip, worrying it with anxiety.

“Ugh, stop that,” Eamonn said. “Stop being so… nice and hot, Kit.” He returned to the bed, sighing. Kit followed him back but didn’t sit down again.

“So… I’ll just go?” he said, hovering.

“I guess so,” Eamonn said, after a minute.

Kit thought he should leave. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to yet. “I mean- I’m not actually seeing him yet, so I guess we could- if you uh, wanted, one more time?”

Eamonn’s gaze was on Kit’s face, as if trying to figure him out. “Yeah- all right,” he said, finally, still looking a bit miserable but a bit brighter. He held out his hand, and Kit allowed himself to be pulled down. “As long as I can have your full attention.”

Kit held himself up onto his elbows and looked directly into Eamonn’s big, hazel eyes. He pushed his thoughts about Ty to the back of his mind. “Absolutely,” he said.

“So… Mrs. McDonald is absolutely mental- there’s no way we have enough b-roll to finish that second edit before the end of the week...” Kit complained as he and Ellie filed out of the Film Studies editing suite. Ellie nodded distractedly. She was looking at her phone and Kit caught a flash of familiar words - UCAS and he hurriedly looked away to give her privacy.

Over the past month, he had been privy to the secondhand stress that came from getting the dreaded ‘A decision has been made on your UCAS application’ email. Kit didn’t know why the universities drew out the torture by making prospective students then log in to the website to find out the decision.

A few days ago, he had been tackled by a jubilant Ade who had waved his phone in front of Kit’s face. “London calling, mate! I got the Kings’ offer- it’s conditional on A*AA but you know what- if I can handle a fucking demon attack, I can fucking do this,” he had said, his body leaning on Kit, slack with relief and joy. And Kit had hugged him back, laughing with him and offering jokingly for Ade to come out on another patrol with him and Jem the night before exam period started.

But Kit could see almost immediately Ellie’s was a different outcome and he grew worried- he knew she had already had a few other rejections from other drama schools earlier in the month. Her colour high, he watched as she tapped and scrolled down and read the message quickly. Her normally expressive face was a blank slate as she clicked off her phone, and started walking away without speaking.

“Wait-” Kit put on a burst of speed and caught up to her. “El- what is it?”

She shook her head and he followed her as she plowed through the crowded halls, not bothering to pull on her jacket as they exited the front doors of the college.

The March wind whipped around them as she marched grimly over to her car. “I just- go back, Kit. I’m okay- I just need to-” she began but then stopped short and leaned her head against the driver’s side window and sighed. “Fuck my life.” Kit could immediately see the problem. Her car keys were winking on the seat behind the locked doors.

Ellie’s eyes were filled with tears, and Kit jumped into action. He hadn’t driven into Totnes that morning, (unsurprisingly, he didn’t have as many car privileges as previously) but he did have something almost as useful in his wallet.

He gently moved her aside and bent down and began to pick the lock. Similar to his pickpocketing skills, he had had fewer opportunities to use them since coming to Devon. But he had often found it relaxing to work on a couple of old locks while he watched youtube videos and Mina being a curious toddler, he had had more practice recently as she had insisted on hiding in old rooms of Cirenworth, which sometimes had sticky doors.

Ellie watched in silence until he popped the lock and opened the door. Kit swept a bow. “My lady- your carriage awaits.”

She gave him an assessing look as she sat down. Kit moved around to the passenger seat side and she didn’t ask him to leave. “Is that another Shadowhunter skill?” she asked, nodding as he tucked away the small cloth holding his lock-picking tools.

He shook his head. “No- this is from my previous life of crime,” he said lightly. Thanks to therapy, he had gotten better at opening up about his life before Shadowhunting to Ellie, so he knew she’d understand the reference.

She nodded and started the car. “I got rejected by RADA,” she said bluntly, after a few minutes of driving.

“Shit,” Kit said. He knew that was her top choice. “I’m really sorry.”

Ellie shrugged as they turned down the road towards her house. “Yeah, it sucks. Plus, after Falmouth’s rejection last week, I have one choice left- Bournemouth.” Her mouth twisted. “I’m not feeling confident.”

“There’s… always clearing?” Kit asked. He didn’t pretend to understand what clearing was and it sounded like a free-for-all hell but apparently it was how the English like to figure out their university cohorts.

Ellie let out a sigh. “Yeah, maybe.”

They pulled into her driveway and Kit followed Ellie into the house. No one else was home. “Do you want to call anyone- Ade? Your mum?” he asked.

Ellie shook her head. She flopped down on the living room sofa, tears starting to trickle down her face and Kit sat down beside her, trying to figure out how to best comfort her.

“Want to watch some trash tv?” he offered and passed her a tissue box. “Drag Race? Made in Chelsea? You choose- I won’t even ask you to put on the subtitles for Geordie Shore if that’s what you want to watch.”

She nodded and moved closer to him. Kit felt awkward for only a second before suddenly figuring out her cues. He lifted up his arm and she snuggled into him and he hugged her tightly. He carefully grabbed at the remote with his free hand, turning the tv on.

Later on, after their fifth episode of some hot people speaking in incomprehensible Northern accents, Ellie stirred and she poked Kit. “Hey- how old do you have to be to join your Shadowhunter Academy? Am I too old?”

Kit looked down at her, disconcerted. “I uh- don’t know. I think you have to be under 19?” He watched her carefully, wondering if this was a serious request. He both could and couldn’t imagine Ellie in the Shadow World. “Do you want me to ask?” He knew that Simon was a Recruiter for the Academy and was coming with Isabelle for Kit’s assessment at the end of the month.

Ellie considered the question, tugging on her pink hair. “Yeah. Yes, please.”

Kit looked at himself. He had put on gear already and he… wasn’t unhappy with what he could see in the mirror. Compared to even a year ago, he could see more muscle definition in his arms and his shoulders had broadened out, even if he wasn’t as tall as he had hoped he’d be. He looked a bit like Jace, he knew - the same curling blond hair, but his eyes were their own light blue that he shared with his long-lost Herondale ancestors. Above the dark gear, his face looked pale but resolute. He looked like a Shadowhunter. Even if he was also a bundle of nerves.

He eyed his stele lying on his bed, wondering if he should draw more marks - he had already covered his arms and torso with the more typical ones - agility, sure strike, balance, but he knew he had space on his calves...

There was a knock on the door. It was Jem. “Izzy has finished setting up in the training room and she’s ready-” Jem said but he paused as Kit opened the door fully and stepped out. Kit could see him take a quick breath. “By the Angel- Kit, you look...ready,” he finished.

“Time to face the music,” Kit said, smiling nervously as he edged past Jem and into the hallway. Downstairs he popped into the kitchen to quickly drink some coffee, while Tessa passed him a plate of toast and eggs and ruffled his hair. Across the table with his own cup of coffee, Simon gave him a reassuring smile and cracked Star Wars jokes that helped Kit relax a little.

“Kit-” Mina was tugging on his knee. “Good yuck! Fight good,” she told him seriously and passed him her favourite teddy.

Despite arriving at a late hour the previous night, Izzy had insisted that they start the assessment early. “That way, we’ll have enough time for your friend to still have a chat with Simon, we can do some sightseeing and then all of us can go out for dinner later on,” she had said with a friendly smile.

Isabelle Lightwood as Alec’s sister and Jace’s friend was fine, Isabelle Lightwood as a training instructor was intimidating and Isabelle Lightwood as the assessor who would determine whether he was worthy to join the adult Shadowhunter ranks was terrifying, Kit thought as he made his way up to Cirenworth’s training room. She was one of the heroes of the Dark War, she had grown up and trained with Jace- what if she compared Kit to him? He knew he was better than when he had started training with Jem two years ago…

“Hey Kit,” Isabelle stifled a yawn, as he entered. She was also in gear and held her electrum whip in one hand. “So- how about we start with the boring paper stuff first and then move on to the interesting part- aka the fighting and then you can invite all the others in for your special weapon section - sound good?”

“Perfect, sounds great,” he said and suddenly he thought about the training and studying he had been doing with Tessa recently and his hours and hours of perfecting Shadowhunter skills with Jem… he could do this. He straightened up.

The next few hours were a blur but before he knew it, he was wiping drops of sweat out of his eyes and Izzy was standing in front of him, a pleased smile about her lips.

“Okay, so the last section is not really important in the overall scheme of things but the Clave added it because everyone knows us Shadowhunters like to show off… Do you have your special weapon or a special skill that you want the Clave to be aware of?” she said, and Kit noticed she had said ‘us Shadowhunters’ and his heart pounded harder, if that was even possible after the cardio workout he had given it by leaping, fighting and yes, even dropping from heights. But then he realised what time it was, and a grin began to form.

“Oh yeah, I have a special skill,” Kit said.

Simon, Tessa and Jem, holding Mina, all filed into the training room. A fourth figure also joined them, pink hair catching the light. Ellie. She looked over at him and her eyes widened, and then a big grin crossed her face and she gave Kit a big thumbs up.

Izzy stepped back and she nodded at Kit. “Go ahead.”

Kit leaped up onto the raised platform where he had set up numerous targets. He looked back, and he could see Jem and Tessa smiling up at him.

He took a deep breath, and settled allowing what he had basically termed his ‘Jedi mind state’ - allowing his emotions to flow through him, and he felt the corresponding Faerie magic rise and flow down his arms and into his palms. Golden-white light gathered into his palms and once it had reached a certain height and diameter, he turned back to the targets and carefully, he aimed. Blasts of light shot from his palms found their way to each of the five targets’ centres. After the last one, he was starting to feel lightheaded from the concentration and he let go of the magic, the light quickly fading.

While he originally had intended to finish with a somersault off the platform, he was feeling shaky enough he simply hopped off and walked back to the small group.

“So,” he asked, resisting the urge to crack a ‘One with the Force, I am,’ joke and he couldn’t help but appreciate the shocked look that Izzy and Simon exchanged between them. “Did I pass?”

“Flying colours,” Izzy said quickly and behind her, he could hear Ellie whoop. Jem and Tessa were looking at him with such pride and happiness in their faces that he ducked his head in sudden shyness. Then they were all around and Kit basked in the glow of his success.

“How long does the talk usually take?” Kit asked, his eyes on the study Simon and Ellie had disappeared into a while back. He bit into the giant apple fritter Jem had picked up from the village bakery in celebration.

Izzy followed his gaze. “As long as it needs to,” she said but her look was understanding. “It’s not exactly an easy decision to make.”

“True,” Kit said, fiddling with the bakery bag.

Twenty minutes later, Ellie emerged. Kit was trying to read her face- he thought she looked happy if contemplative. Simon was relaxed and joking with her about something related to Lord of the Rings, which he thought was a good sign.

As he walked with her to the front door, she was uncharacteristically quiet and Kit didn’t want to press. “Ellie,” he started.

“Hmm?” she said and she was clearly lost in her own thoughts.

“What do you think?” he asked. “About the Academy?”

She hesitated and Kit wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. “I don’t know- I’m going to think about it, talk to my parents. The next intake isn’t until September anyway, Simon said. So I have time.” She looked up at him, her blue eyes serious. “What do you think?”

“I think you’d make a pretty badass Shadowhunter,” Kit said. “But- you’re also pretty badass on your own, just as you are.”

Ellie grinned. “Yeah, I am.” She gave him a quick hug. “I’ll text you later!” She gave him a look once more up and down. “You were pretty awesome yourself earlier, angel boy.” She winked and skipped out the door.

After Kit’s Shadowhunter assessment, the month of April flew by in a state of contentment he had never felt before, the only wrinkle being that Ty had still not sent back a reply to his letter. Kit tried not to feel too disappointed.

It was a quiet Saturday morning when it finally fell apart.

It was the week after Kit’s 18th birthday, and Kit was looking after Mina while Tessa and Jem had driven into Newton Abbot to do the weekly grocery shop.

They were in a room next to the conservatory that had been designated as Mina’s playroom. Mina was in front of her play kitchen, banging her tiny pots and pans as she prepared ‘tea’ for him. Kit was vaguely trying to revise for his English Literature exam, but wasn’t putting much effort into it.

“KIT!” A demanding Mina was suddenly in front of him, holding out a wooden teapot and cup. Kit took it, while also internally wincing at Mina’s loudness. Normally he didn’t mind but he was also slightly hungover from his previous night out at the pub with Ade, Ben and a bunch of other people from college who had already turned the legal drinking age. He pulled out his stele and surreptitiously drew an iratze on his left arm, and his headache started to dissipate.

He returned to his play with Mina. “Mmm, slurp slurp, tea! My favourite,” Kit said, pretending to drink. He held out the cup. “More?” Mina stared at him. “NO!” she said, her current favourite word. She whirled around and ran back to the kitchen, grabbing another teapot. “CWAFFEE.”

“Oh okay- yeah, I could totally go for some coffee,” Kit answered, also thinking that he could go for some of the real thing. His phone buzzed beside him, a message popping up and Kit leaned over to grab it. It was an unknown number- he clicked through to unlock to see the full message.

Suddenly, he was knocked sideways as an invisible shockwave slammed into him, while a giant gong sounded in his head. He could hear the tinkle of breaking glass echoing all around the house before it fell deathly quiet.

He didn’t know for sure but he would have bet a large sum of money the wards Magnus and Tessa had set up around Cirenworth had just been breached.

Immediately, Kit’s thoughts turned to Mina and whether she had been hurt in the blast. She was curled up in a ball on the floor, a small whimper coming from her but the next second she was looking at him with questioning eyes. “Wat that?” she asked.

Adrenaline was coursing through Kit’s veins as he tried to figure out the next plan of action. He reached down to scoop up Mina and she giggled into his shoulder. “Shh, Mina- it’s a game, we have to be quiet,” Kit told her, as he opened the door, and peered out. “Like hide n’go see?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. It looked like the coast was clear. “We have to be very quiet now while we go hide.” During the winter, Tessa and Jem had set up a Faerie-proofed panic room off the main staircase, its window-free walls covered in corrugated iron and its rowan door wreathed in dried leaves and branches of the same tree.

If he could only get to the room before whatever had breached the wards- he had to get Mina there…

Gritting his teeth, Kit started sprinting down the long hallway. He thought he could hear the murmur of voices coming from behind him, from the conservatory. He passed by the film room, and Tessa’s study without any interference. He paused to grab one of the ceremonial short swords off the wall beside the study and then quickly continued on, Mina still giggling in his ear, pleased at the game.

His luck ran out in the kitchen. As he entered, he skidded to the stop. The other side was filled with several tall men and women in dark green and blue uniforms, and even without looking at their ears, he knew they were Fae. But they didn’t seem to notice him and Kit suddenly remembered the additional warlock glamour he had on him. He began to inch out of the kitchen but then he heard a vaguely familiar voice say in a bored tone. “He’s here.”

Kit whirled around and about ten feet down the hallway he could see a brown-haired Shadowhunter dressed in shabby gear pointing at him. Beside him, a shaggy-maned man- no, warlock, was moving his hands in a complicated pattern and Kit felt a swift wind of magic swirl around him, and yanked. He was suddenly disoriented and he had to steady himself and Mina against the wall.

He could hear a clamour of voices behind him, and he cursed. Now the Fae could see him and Mina too. He looked at the sword in his hand, and realised that he had a much more potent weapon. He dropped the sword. As it clattered to the ground, he raised his hand at the oncoming group.

White-hot light erupted from his palm, punching a hole in the group and suddenly several of the Fae were no longer there. Kit ran towards the opening desperately, knowing it was a long shot. He had gotten them trapped between two groups of enemies.

Something caught at his ankle at the same time as a heavy weight thudded into the back of his head. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was trying to twist and protect Mina as he fell.

His first thought on returning to consciousness was that the pain behind his eyes was too much. The second was that Mina was crying and screaming his name. He desperately blinked his eyes open and he briefly saw Mina’s scared face close to his, before she was swept up into the arms of one of the Faerie warriors.

He was suddenly hauled up to his feet roughly, his arms pulled behind his back and cold metal snapped around his wrists. Kit tried to steady his breathing and get his bearings.

It wasn’t possible with Mina screaming and reaching out for him. The Faerie warrior put his hand over her mouth and she promptly bit him. He yelled but didn’t drop her but shook her briefly and her frightened cry had Kit feeling an overwhelming sense of rage.

“STOP- don’t you dare hurt her! If you fucking do-” he yelled, acutely aware of the situation but still straining against his captors. He kicked back and tried to headbutt whoever was holding him from behind. A slap across his head knocked him again into the wall and Kit slumped, his head ringing again. He saw the lion-maned warlock step up to where he and Mina were being held, and a spark of his magic flowed into her forehead. She collapsed like a rag doll.

“She’s sleeping,” the warlock said, his yellow eyes meeting Kit’s. “It’s for the best.” He pulled her out of the Faerie’s arms, holding her in his arms and he nodded as if to reassure Kit.

Kit was trying to think of a retort to that, when the Shadowhunter moved into his line of view. Kit recognised him finally - Manuel Villalobos, a Centurion and member of the Cohort. He had been Zara’s right hand man and had had some kind of alliance with the Unseelie Court.

Manuel gazed at him impassively. “Yeah, that’s the half-breed,” he said, meeting Kit’s gaze with a small sneer. “Christopher Herondale.”

Kit spat at him. It fell short but Manuel stepped back regardless. He looked around. “You’ve found yourself a comfortable setting to hide out in,” he said.

“How’s Idris been the last three years?” Kit challenged. “Have you resorted to eating your fellow Cohort members yet to survive?”

Manuel smiled coldly. “Oh- we have our own supply lines sorted now,” he said.

“This is the descendant?” One of the Faerie warriors stepped forward, her beautiful face moving close to Kit’s as she examined him. “He looks smaller than I would have thought.” Despite everything, Kit was especially stung by that - he wasn’t that short.

Manuel nodded again. “Yes, that’s him.”

A calculating look entered her face and she drew her bone dagger, stepping up to him. Kit tried not to flinch. This was it. He frantically tried to sort through his emotions in order to summon his powers again but he wasn’t sure he’d be in time, and he was still dizzy. I’m sorry Mina. Tessa. Jem. Ty.

She was stopped by another warrior, this one wearing a more elaborate sigil than the others. “No- the Queen wants him alive,” he said.

Kit blinked. He was being kidnapped by the Seelie Queen. Oh, this wasn’t good.

He continued to try and summon his power, and he could feel a warming glow rise in his manacled hands. Then, he felt a dagger graze his throat, and he was forced to look up. On the other side of the knife he could see Manuel shake his head warningly. “Any more glowy bullshit and we slit her throat,” he said, nodding at a sleeping Mina.

Kit felt another surge of hatred rise through him, and then a shot of horror filled him, as he realised his power had reacted. He frantically pushed it back down and he glared daggers at Manuel.

“You hurt her and you’re dead,” he told him, and Manuel laughed. “Like you can do anything about it,” he said mockingly, patting Kit’s head.

He looked over to the warlock. “Can you summon a Portal in here?”

“Better in the garden,” the warlock said.

“Let’s go then,” Manuel said, jerking his chin towards the back of the house.

Kit tried to delay the trip through the house as long as he could, employing Mina’s favourite bedtime trick of ‘sandbagging’. But the Faerie warriors simply picked him up and manually moved him through the house. It was oddly humiliating. The Faerie party that had come to kidnap was also smaller than he had originally thought. Other than Manuel and the unnamed warlock, there were six of the Seelie Queen’s guards - now he knew, Kit could recognise the sigil he had studied in his Faerie lore tutorials.

Kit frantically tried to think of clues he could leave for Tessa and Jem so they’d know where to follow them. He tried to grab at his phone but with his arms still trapped behind his back, he was unsuccessful. He looked over at Mina, and noticed that she had two bobby pins holding back her hair and Kit began to formulate a plan. If only he could grab them...

As they arrived in the garden, the Faeries dropped him on the ground and went to converse among themselves. Kit was still trying to figure out the plan when he noticed a small grey shadow creeping up behind the warlock, and his heart leapt in hope. Mina was in a little heap beside him, and Kit tried to move to cover her with his body.

Less than a minute later, a tornado of grey-ish blue magic came sweeping up, knocking the Faerie warriors over, scattering them to various parts of the garden. Kit could see Church leap and scratch at the warlock.

Manuel whipped around and suddenly a dagger blossomed in his chest, and then another in the centre of his forehead, his final expression frozen in shock and he slumped down as Jem stalked out of the cover of trees, his face filled with a cold, distant fury.

Kit could see Tessa out of the corner of her eye, her face a study of concentration and Kit could see the Faerie warriors suddenly grab at their throats, convulsing, as if they were drowning on land. One by one, they all slumped still, their faces a deathly grey-blue. Tessa began to run over to where Kit and Mina were.

A blast of Portal magic startled Kit, and he could see the warlock straining to keep open a small one, and he threw Church off him and dived through it. It closed with a pop and there was silence in the garden.

Tessa dropped on her knees where Mina was lying, her face in a familiar anguish that Kit had felt earlier. “She’s okay- she’s just sleeping.” Tessa nodded, her hands trembling as she drew her daughter to her. She held out a hand to Kit’s cheek, her expression not changing- the same fear on her face. Kit wanted to cry but he blinked back the tears. “I’m okay too,” he said.

He could feel Jem come behind him, helping him to his feet and then using his stele to unlock the Faerie manacles. He gathered Kit in his arms, quickly checking him for injuries and drawing iratzes. Kit clung to him, trying to steady his breathing.

Jem didn’t let him go but drew Tessa, cradling Mina in her arms, also into an embrace. They stayed like that for a few minutes, fallen Faerie warriors scattered around them like petals.

Kit raced around his room, grabbing the bare essentials. Tessa and Jem had given him five minutes and then they were going through a Portal to the New York Institute. As Tessa pointed out, they didn’t know if that had been an advance party.

Kit grabbed his stele from desk, feeling a pang of regret as he looked over his study books. The attack marked the end of his time in Devon, at least for the moment. Kit knew he couldn’t take the time now but when it was safe, he knew he’d have to send messages to his friends - to Ade and Ellie - explaining why he left.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Kit pulled it out, as he headed down the narrow staircase. He unlocked his phone and he scrolled back to the original unknown number.

Kit, it’s Ty.

They’ve found you. We’ll be there soon - hide if you can. Prepare to fight if you can’t

From about two minutes before the attack.

Kit stared at the message.

“Kit!”

Tessa was calling him. He headed out to the garden, his emotions swirling around him.

His phone buzzed again and a new message popped up.

Ahead of him, he could see Tessa, her face drawn with effort, as she started to open up a Portal. Jem was holding Mina as she clutched her favourite giraffe. Tessa had been able to wake her up easily, and after a few minutes crying and clutching at Kit, she had calmed down when she had seen all the others were gone.

Stop

It’s not safe in New York

How did he know?

“Wait,” Kit said. There was a shadow overhead and Kit’s frayed nerves snapped. Power built in him and he held his hands in a defensive position, ready, as two flying horses swooped down.

Kit stared. In front of him was Mark Blackthorn, dressed in Faerie garb and riding a white horse with flashing red eyes and golden hooves. Beside him on a similar black horse, in a Centurion’s uniform, was Ty, watching as a Kit lowered his arms.

“Stop. If you go through to New York, you’ll die as soon as you hit the pavement,” Ty said. “The Seelie Queen has also set a trap there.” Kit could see Jem and Tessa exchange startled glances.

Kit couldn’t help it. “Are you saying- come with us if you want to live?” he asked.

Ty’s grey eyes swept up to Kit’s face, his voice puzzled. “Yes,” he said, not understanding the reference.

“Okay then,” said Kit, fighting back a smile as Ty briefly met his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Notes:

I know it seems like I left the story on a bit of a cliffhanger but... it felt like the right place to end, as it concludes Kit's time in Devon and kicks off the events leading up to The Wicked Powers (or at least, my take on it). I never wanted to write my version of TWP so this story was mainly trying to figure out Kit's journey in that in-between time and also- a bit of a fix-it fic so that he can find the space and time to heal from the events of The Dark Artifices. Looking at it a year later- oof, it seems like I might’ve imagined too easy a time for Kit! Compared to what we’re getting in canon Secrets of Blackthorn Hall. Ah well- at least in this AU, Kit’s getting a chance to do a bit of healing.

I am going to apologise I left the Kit and Ty relationship mostly unresolved. Believe me, it hurts my Kitty shipper heart too! But in the end, this was story was mostly about Kit's journey towards becoming the Shadowhunter he's meant to be, embracing his Faerie heritage and finding his family with Jem, Tessa and Mina and his own friendships outside the Blackthorns.

If you enjoyed Effortless, I’ve written stories in the post-TWP period following Kit and Ty... and also including Ellie, Ade and others. Weather Change is the first of "The London Files" and the second main story “Herondales Don’t Fail” will start publishing this weekend.

#tsc fanfiction #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #kit x ty #the dark artifices #the wicked powers #isabelle lightwood #simon lovelace #jem carstairs #tessa gray #mina carstairs #found family #teenage angst #slow burn #my fanfic #effortless #alicantenet #secrets of blackthorn hall

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

Oh, what’s in a name?

summary: Geralt accidentally calls Jaskier by the wrong name and Jaskier finds out that maybe that's a compliment

pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

word count: 3k

AO3

warnings: none

„Can you hand me the whetstone, Roach?”

Jaskier, already mid-motion to turn and ready to do what Geralt had asked him to, froze. Slowly, and with the biggest grin he could fit on his lips, he turned back to face Geralt again.

“What did you just say?” He could barely contain the laughter in his voice. Raising an eyebrow, he exchanged a look with Roach – well, he tried to exchange a look with Roach, but as usual, she didn’t cooperate – and let out a tiny snort.

Geralt’s brows furrowed in confusion and he gave a small grunt, before saying, “The whetstone.”

Jaskier blinked, his mouth already half-open to tease Geralt about growing old enough to forget the name of his dearest travel companion, but then he stopped himself. He squinted at Geralt, trying to find any hint on his face that he had even realised that he had called Jaskier by the wrong name, but he found none.

For a moment, he contemplated being offended by being mistaken with a horse, but then Roach trotted over to Geralt and nibbled at his hair, making the witcher look up with the softest smile as he petted her neck.

The sight of Geralt so relaxed and free with his smile, made something warm and fuzzy grow in Jaskier’s chest.

He decided not to say anything. At least for now.

Jaskier’s plans to tease Geralt about the name-thing later failed spectacularly. Not because Jaskier didn’t dare tease Geralt, of course, but because all of his attempts to subtly tease him didn’t work, and Jaskier was too proud of his finesse with words to take a more direct approach to his teasing.

He tried singing songs in which he exchanged Geralt’s name or moniker with something else, which only earned him an amused hum.

“Is calling me the White Wolf not enough anymore?” Geralt asked when Jaskier had finished his little ditty. “I thought you needed one moniker for me for memorability.”

Jaskier huffed and nearly opened his mouth to tell Geralt plainly why he had gone with the wrong moniker, but then he blinked.

“You listened to me while I told you about that?”

Geralt shrugged and turned to tend to Roach. Jaskier was nearly fully convinced that he only did it to have an excuse to avoid eye-contact.

“It’s nice talking to someone who talks back.”

Jaskier snorted. “My friend, I’d say out of the two of us, I’m the one who’s doing most of the talking.”

Geralt didn’t reply, proving Jaskier’s point.

Oh, but Jaskier had been wrong. He didn’t realise just how wrong he had been about Geralt’s penchant for taciturnity, until they had to spend more than a couple of days in town.

Had Jaskier thought Geralt didn’t like talking all that much before, he was now fully taken aback by just how little Geralt actually said. Jaskier would have thought that a town with many people – most of which were even somewhat friendly towards Geralt – would get Geralt to relax, but it only served to make him clam up and become more quiet.

That is, he was quiet, save for when he talked to Jaskier.

In comparison to how he treated everyone else, he was downright chatty with him.

After that discovery, Jaskier made a point of talking more about things that Geralt seemed to like talking about. He let him explain the importance of cleaning his swords so often, lest they rust from his touch. He let him talk for hours on end about how to take care of horses. Once Jaskier got him to open up about his family, Geralt almost didn’t stop talking about his brothers, recounting how he and Eskel had once caught a giant bumblebee or reminiscing about how Lambert had tried to set fire to the instructors’ beds when he had been a trainee.

Watching Geralt talk like that was an experience. Every word that he entrusted with Jaskier made his heart flutter and every small smile Geralt gave him as he talked, took his breath away.

“I think you’d really like them, Roach,” Geralt said to conclude his story about his brothers.

Jaskier’s lips twitched upwards, but just like the first time it had happened, Geralt didn’t seem to realise what he had just said.

Jaskier’s grin turned into a soft smile and he leaned a little against Geralt, letting their shoulders touch gently.

“If they are anything like you, I’m sure I’ll like them.”

A couple of weeks later, Jaskier had to admit to himself that he had been wrong once again. He really needed to be careful not to make being wrong into a habit. He had always prided himself in being intelligent – after all, he was a master of the seven liberal arts and years ago, he had made the most intelligent decision of befriending one Geralt of Rivia – and being wrong about things just wasn’t something he liked doing.

But when it came to Geralt, there were always new things to learn, new facets of him to discover. And that wasn’t something Jaskier minded. In fact, every time he learned something new about Geralt – every time Geralt trusted him with new information about himself – Jaskier’s chest felt like it was expanding with that happy little flutter inside.

It was enlightening to learn that Geralt rarely ever cooked with spices, not because they were too expensive, but because his senses were sharp enough to not need much of them.

It was interesting to find out that Geralt liked making up the witcher-code on the spot, whenever someone asked him to do something that he didn’t want to do.

It was endearing finding out that Geralt had named all of his horses Roach.

But it was utterly shocking, when after weeks of having gone their separate ways, Jaskier finally tracked down Geralt to find him talking to Roach.

He froze to his spot and listened enraptured as Geralt spoke to his horse as others did to their friends. As Geralt did to Jaskier.

No. No, that wasn’t it at all. Geralt wasn’t speaking to Roach as he did to Jaskier.

He spoke to Jaskier as he did to Roach.

Jaskier’s eyes went wide at the realisation. How long had Geralt been alone before Jaskier had attached himself to his side, with only Roach as company?

Jaskier thought back to all the times Geralt had looked insecure when speaking with Jaskier when they had first started travelling together, as if he didn’t know how to talk to people. As if he didn’t have much experience doing so outside of negotiating contracts or the winters that he spent with his family.

Thinking of it, Jaskier realised that he probably was the only friend besides Roach that Geralt had.

Jaskier swallowed against the lump forming in his throat and continued walking to Geralt, announcing his presence with a cheerful, “My friend! I missed you!”

Geralt whirled around to him, an unreadable expression on his face, and Jaskier’s chest twisted uncomfortably, unsure if he had maybe been a bit too enthusiastic, but then Geralt’s eyes softened and he gave Jaskier the smallest but most beautiful of smiles.

That evening, as they sat beside the crackling fire and Jaskier plucked a soft melody on his lute as background noise, Geralt talked to him again, telling him with only minimal prompting about the contracts he had completed while Jaskier had been away playing at court.

When the fire died down and Jaskier got too tired to stay awake any longer, Geralt softly nudged him towards his bedroll.

“We can continue this talk tomorrow,” Geralt said, a little hesitantly, as if he still wasn’t entirely sure if his voice was welcome.

“I’d love to.” Jaskier pulled his blanket up to his chin and smiled when Geralt’s shoulders lost the little tension that had taken hold of them with his last words. “Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Goodnight, Roach.”

Jaskier pulled the blanket a little higher to hide his smile. The last thing he thought, before sleep embraced him, was that it really wasn’t that bad being called by Roach’s name.

Now, Jaskier and Roach had never gotten along too well. He had tried to braid her mane despite Geralt warning him that she didn’t like people touching her and she had tried to bite his fingers off.

Sometimes, when Jaskier got peckish, he stole the apple slices Geralt would buy for Roach. Other times, Roach would swat at Jaskier with her tail as if he was an irritating fly, while he was in the middle of composing a song.

Safe to say, they barely did much more than tolerate each other’s presence for Geralt’s sake.

Now though, with Jaskier’s newfound knowledge about how important the mare was to Geralt, Jaskier saw her in a different light.

Oh, sure, she was still cantankerous and stubborn, but she was also Geralt’s oldest companion and friend on the Path.

So Jaskier made a point of always putting some coin aside to buy her treats whenever they got into town and composing odes to her beauty. He wasn’t sure if Roach appreciated the latter, but there was no doubt she liked the treats he got her.

It didn’t take long, until she allowed him to pet her soft muzzle and shortly after, she started following Jaskier around or approaching him happily when he came back after having split from Geralt for a while.

At first, Geralt watched this new display of affection between them warily, but all too soon, Jaskier caught him smiling when Roach nibbled at Jaskier’s hair or Jaskier went out of his way to brush her down.

One time, while Geralt had thought Jaskier was too deep in thought composing to hear him, he had whispered to Roach how happy he was that the two of them got along.

“Remember when I said you would like my brothers?” Geralt said one morning, completely out of the blue, while watching Jaskier try to catch the falling red leaves from the air.

Distracted, Jaskier missed the leaf just by a hair’s breadth. It landed on his head instead. Seemingly without thinking, Geralt brushed it off Jaskier’s head, lingering just a little too long to be a casual touch.

“Y-yeah,” Jaskier said, his heart jumping to his throat. “Of course I remember you talking about Eskel and Lambert.”

Something lit up in Geralt’s eyes. “You remember their names?”

“Naturally,” Jaskier said softly. “They are important to you.”

Geralt remained quiet for a little while, just staring at Jaskier with an unreadable expression. “They are,” he said finally. Geralt’s throat bobbed when he swallowed. “I was wondering…if maybe you would like to meet them?”

Jaskier’s brows shot up. “Are they near?”

Geralt shook his head and turned away, clearly pretending to check over Roach’s saddle.

“You could meet them if you came with me to Kaer Morhen.”

For once, Jaskier was at a loss of words. He must have stayed silent for so long that Geralt began worrying, for he turned back to him with a frown.

Before he could take his words back, Jaskier surged forward and slung his arms around him.

“I would love to come with you.”

On their way up the mountain, Jaskier needled Geralt with questions about the keep, but Geralt refused to give as much as a hint of what Jaskier had to expect from a winter with the wolves.

Jaskier considered pouting, but the twinkle in Geralt’s eyes made it impossible to even pretend to be mad at him. Not when it was clear that Geralt was going back to his taciturn ways to have the keep be a surprise for Jaskier.

And a surprise it was.

When the walls of Kaer Morhen came into view, towering over them, Jaskier lost all ability to speak. His eyes raked over the massive doors, the towers that stretched high into the sky and every part of the courtyard that he just itched to explore.

A soft noise beside him made him turn towards Geralt again. His breath caught in his throat when he met Geralt’s gaze, soft and holding more fondness than Geralt had ever allowed himself to show Jaskier while they were out there on the continent.

Geralt hadn’t lied when he had said that Jaskier would get along with his family. It didn’t take more than one night of drinking together, for Jaskier to decide that the other wolf witchers were his friends now too.

Eskel showed him his poetry collection and his eyes lit up when Jaskier promised to discuss every poem in it with Eskel.

Vesemir was happy to have someone who listened to him with enthusiasm when he talked about monsters and fighting techniques for once.

Lambert was a little harder to get to warm up to Jaskier, but after Jaskier had beaten Geralt in a round of gwent – granted, he had cheated shamelessly, but a victory was a victory – Lambert had barked out a laugh and ruffled Jaskier’s hair, proclaiming that he should come to Kaer Morhen more often.

It was mid-winter when the inevitable happened again. Jaskier had started to look forward to it, but he hadn’t realised just what it would mean if Geralt slipped up again while at Kaer Morhen.

Lambert, Geralt and Jaskier were just shovelling snow near the stables, when it happened. Well, maybe calling it ‘shovelling snow’ was a bit generous. That certainly was what they were supposed to do, but after Lambert had thrown the snow to the side with enough enthusiasm to –maybe? – accidentally hit Jaskier with it instead, it had turned into a full blown snow fight, in which Jaskier constantly shifted sides from ganging up on Lambert with Geralt and throwing his arms around Geralt in a hug to keep him in place while Lambert put snow down Geralt’s shirt.

“Stop it,” Geralt laughed and wriggled in his grip, enough to be playful, but coming nowhere close to using even half of his full strength. “Let go, or I’ll throw you into a pile of snow, Roach!”

“I’d like to see you try.” Jaskier smirked and tightened his hold. “Lambert, now!”

But Lambert was frozen mid-motion of grabbing more snow. He stared at Geralt with the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

“Roach?” He asked with a snort. “Did you just call him Roach?”

In Jaskier’s arms, Geralt stiffened. “I-“

He broke off, throwing a quick glance at Jaskier over his shoulder, before looking away again. Yet, it had been enough for Jaskier to see the look that he had come to understand as blind panic on Geralt’s face.

Before Jaskier could ask him what was wrong, Geralt shrugged him off, easily freeing himself from the hold he had so happily endured before.

“Geralt-“

But Geralt didn’t even falter in his steps. He all but fled into the stables.

Jaskier exchanged a quick look with Lambert who shrugged as if he didn’t care, but followed Geralt’s flight with his eyes and a hint of worry in his expression.

Jaskier didn’t hesitate any longer and ran after Geralt.

Geralt must have heard him enter the stables and hid, for when Jaskier’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, Geralt was nowhere to be found.

Jaskier’s steps slowed and he rubbed his fingers together nervously.

“Geralt?” He asked uncertainly. The only reply he got was the huffing from the horses.

Jaskier’s heart sank, but he set his brow in determination. In two strides, he walked over to the box with Roach, who blew a breath of hot air into his face in greeting.

“Hello there, Roach,” Jaskier began, loud enough that there was no mistaking that he fully intended Geralt to hear him, even though he knew it was unnecessary to raise his voice since Geralt would have been able to hear him even if he had whispered. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, my dear lady. Did you know that Geralt sometimes calls me by your name?”

Roach huffed and Jaskier began stroking the white stripe on her face.

“Yes, I know,” he continued, “But I swear he doesn’t mean it as an insult to you. I for one am actually rather flattered. I’ve been called by the wrong name before, and usually it’s something that makes me feel like the other person doesn’t think I’m worth having my name remembered. Or as if they don’t respect me enough to learn it. But it’s different with Geralt.” His voice softened. “If he calls me by the name of someone who means so much to him, then that is the highest honour I can imagine. You have no idea how happy it makes me that he trusts and likes me enough to talk to me like he does to his other most faithful friend. And can I tell you a secret, dear Roach?” He got up on his tiptoes to get closer to her ear as he stage-whispered, “Geralt is really important to me too. And I really want him to know that I mean it when I say that he’s my best friend, whether he calls me by your name or mine.”

Behind him, straw rustled and the tapping of steps announced that Geralt was coming closer. Not only that, but the fact that Jaskier could hear Geralt approach, meant that Geralt put effort into not startling him. Jaskier hid his smile in Roach’s neck. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Geralt approach slowly, as if he was unsure about every step he took.

Finally, he reached them, standing on Roach’s other side. Jaskier heard him take in a deep breath and he already readied himself to listen to Geralt talk to Roach as he had just done, but then Geralt rounded Roach and came to stand before Jaskier instead.

In his eyes, fear and fondness fought a battle, that fondness won when Jaskier reached out a hand to softly brush it against Geralt’s. With a sigh that expanded Geralt’s entire chest, Geralt intertwined their fingers.

“I-thank you,” Geralt said, looking down at their joined hands. “For understanding. For not being angry at me. I – you are important to me too. More important than anyone outside of Kaer Morhen ever was.” He lifted his head again, giving Jaskier an intense look that sent shivers up his spine. With more meaning, affection and trust than anyone had ever spoken Jaskier’s name with, Geralt said, “You are the most important person to me, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes stung and he let out a small choked noise. Without thinking, he tugged Geralt closer and flung his free arm around his shoulders, holding him as tightly as he could and burying his head in Geralt’s chest. Geralt’s hand that wasn’t holding Jaskier’s still, came up to cradle the back of his head and Geralt’s cheek pressed against the top of his head.

“Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice got muffled but the low rumble in Geralt’s chest as he hummed in acknowledgement told Jaskier that he could still understand him. “You’re my most important person too. My Geralt.”

“My Jaskier.”

Over the years, Geralt slipped up less and less. Jaskier would have been almost disappointed, if he didn’t like the way Geralt called him “my Jaskier”, or “my Buttercup” so much.

Well. Jaskier had been wrong before when it came to Geralt and as it turned out, he continued to have this terrible habit, try as he might to get rid of it. Because, when Jaskier had assumed that Geralt didn’t slip up on his and Roach’s names anymore, he had been dead wrong.

The thing was, after years of having Jaskier at his side, of being close to him and loving him with his entire being, Geralt had gotten so used to talking to Jaskier, that one day, while Jaskier was plucking away idly at his lute and Geralt was brushing down Roach, he heard the most curious thing, that made him smile wider than he had ever smiled before.

“There you go,” Geralt said as he brushed down Roach’s flank and she kept turning her head, trying to get to the treats in Geralt’s pockets. “You’ll get the treats if you’re a good horse and stay still for once, Jaskier.”

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt #jaskier #roach #fic #fanfic #witcher #witcher fic #the witcher #my writing #i posted this a while ago on ao3 and completely forgot if I had posted it here as well #fluff

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