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devox2564 · 4 months

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In Your Heart

Jake Kizka x fem reader

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), first date fluff, corny as fuck Christmas references

Author’s Note: This chapter was very lightly edited, so please excuse any grammatical errors or less than stellar word choices, I reallly wanted to get this chapter out for you all.

Chapter Eight: Needy

The set itself has already improved tenfold since that first show in Nashville. Each song is tighter and perfected. Your technique has never been better. Watching the guys perform is like watching an animal evolve in real time, each show exhilarating but unique from the last.

Things with Jake have lulled into a sort of familiarity that is a little too close to be just friendly. Stolen kisses in tucked away corners and nights spent in deep conversation. He knows more about you than anyone alive on this planet. It's vulnerability in a way that you aren't quite comfortable with yet.

Currently, you're sitting in a hotel room all to yourself. Thank god they booked you all individually instead of doubled up. You loved your bandmates like sisters at this point but... some privacy is much appreciated. Grey sweatpants hang off your hips and your hair hangs in tendrils around your face. The Boston skyline is already twinkling in the purple of sunset. It's nearing Christmas and you see lights scattered far below illuminating the snow dusted streets.

Your phone rings. You answer without looking, knowing that it's Jake.

"Hello?" You answer.

"Hello dahhhling" his English drawl greets you.

"What's up?" You ask him chuckling a bit.

"Would you be able to pencil me in tonight? Sayy, 7:00? Drinks?"

"Are you.. the Jacob Thomas Kizka finally asking me out?" You prod him.

"Indeed madam" he replies seriously.

"Let me get dressed. I'll meet you in the lobby." You say and hang up on him before he can reply.

Shit. You have nothing to wear on a date. You pick through your suitcase and land on a pair of straight jeans and an oversized crewneck, praying he hasn't made any sort of fancy reservation.

The elevator ride down gives you a full view of the atrium of the hotel. Tall ceilings are strung with twinkling lights and Christmas trees litter the large room where people meander about. You spot him near the doors waiting. His long hair is pulled up into a messy knot at the back of his head, just brushing the collar of a dark brown leather jacket. He spots you and waves as you descend the last few floors and disappear from view.

He pulls you into a hug as soon as you reach him. "I missed you." He says squeezing you tight around your shoulders and lifting your toes off the ground.

"You saw me less than an hour ago on the bus." You say, your airway constricted.

"An hour too long in my opinion." He puts you down.

You laugh before asking "So where are we going?"

"You'll see. Come on." and he slips his hand in yours leading you outside.

It's very cold outside and you silently thank yourself for packing a decent jacket at least. The snow is falling lazily now, and the wind has slacked just enough to allow you some peace as you walk. Jake leads you down a few blocks and into a different hotel lobby and a different elevator. You ride up for what seems like an eternity. He's still holding your hand and tucks it into his coat pocket running his thumb soothingly up and down your pointer finger. Even in the cold this casual touch tingles more than usual, your body responding to an affection it has sorely missed.

You finally step off of the elevator and into a large room with walls of glass. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the view. You can see the whole skyline of the city from up here. Even better than the view from your hotel room. You glance over at him and he's grinning smugly as if he knew this place would be impressive to you.

You roll your eyes inwardly. He does know you very well then. You are in awe. Music plays softly, and dim lights sparkle and bounce off of the windows. He leads you to a deep sofa near the edge of the room and deposits you there. "Wait here I'll go and get us drinks."

After a few moments he returns and the two of you curl up and sip for a moment. Conversation is just as easy as it always is. The two of you spend quite a bit of time discussing the tour so far: your favorite cities, the best crowds, nicest hotels, and so on. After all the topics relating to shows and performances are expended, you sit for a while in comfortable silence admiring the city from your perch. His brown eyes shine in the lights of the skyline. "You know, I'm kicking myself for not agreeing to go out when you first asked me." You admit to him a bit unwillingly.

"Oh I knew you would be." He grins. "But I won't hold that against you."

"Oh well thank you so much Jacob" you really roll your eyes at him now.

"I'm kicking myself for not asking you out the second I knew that creep had blown his shot with you. If that makes you feel any better." He casually reaches out and intertwines his fingers with yours on the back of the couch.

"It does thanks." The mention of David in the moment doesn't even phase you.

"You know, I've never been with someone I had a real friendship with first?" You offer up.

"Yeah?" He replies.

"It was always right down to business. I've not gotten the chance to really know someone the way I know you. Not before things get serious at least." He's silent and you continue. "It feels... strange to for this to be so natural to me."

"Strange in a good way I hope." His smile is soft now, less goofy than before.

"In a very good way."

"I'm glad we've gotten to be friends. You help keep my head on straight. You steady me and knock me off kilter all at once." He's looking out at the sky while he speaks. "I was worried for a while that I'd never be able to move on, you know? Get on with my life."

"That's why I was so worried about this becoming more for us. I was afraid we'd fuck it up and I'd lose you altogether."

He seems amused at this comment, like it'd never even crossed his mind that this progression could complicate things.

"Do you want to know when I knew this was going to be something?" He asks

"Hmmm..." you think "it has to be the vomiting on your shoes thing. One of the highlights of our friendship for sure."

He laughs "Nope."

"Ok so what then? I don't know how I could top that for you." You joke, sliding your shoes off and swinging your legs up and across his lap to face him.

"That night I sliced my hand open in the kitchen." He admits still laughing.

"You're kidding." You giggle in reply.

"I'm definitely not. Watching you bandage me up, make fun of me for hating blood. We'd spent weeks scraping each other off the floor and then it just hit me all of a sudden." He pauses "I just felt something shift and from then on it was just different for me. I wanted to grab you and kiss you right then."

"Buttt you didn't." You couldn't damper your smile even if you'd wanted to.

"And then I heard you playing the piano the next morning. I really knew it was over for me then." He unlaces his fingers and reaches out to brush your cheek with his thumb.

You lean into his hand involuntarily. His calloused fingers burning against your still cool skin. He's studying your face like it's the first and last time he'll ever see it. That's how he's always looked at you, you realize.

"That was the first night I noticed things felt different between us. I didn't want to admit it to myself. But turns out I was right." You smirk. Leave it to you to interrupt a tender moment with gloating, but he doesn't seem to care.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, comfortable in the dimly lit space. The noise from the bar comes into the foreground.

"Is this Last Christmas?" You ask straining to hear the music.

"I think so." He says also listening.

"This is my favorite Christmas song." You admit to him with a laugh. "It's so fucking cheesy I know."

He tries to hold back his snort, but it comes anyways and he's full on laughing. You push his shoulder and he raises his hands up in mock defeat.

"Hey, as far as Christmas music goes, I suppose Wham! is an acceptable choice." He wipes at his eyes.

He moves your legs from his lap and braces his hands on his knees to stand from his seat. Turning around, he stretches out a hand to you. "Dance with me?"

"You're serious?" you ask him with a raise of your eyebrow.

"If it's your favorite, then I guess it's my favorite now too." He's being sincere now.

Looking around and deciding the bar is empty enough to avoid any embarrassment, you stand up and take his hand. In a second you're chest to chest swaying in time to George Michael's cheesy poppy voice.

You rest your head on his shoulder and drink the feel of him in. Warm, comforting, like home. Eyes closed, you listen to the music. It's impossible to peel the smile away from your lips. Your arms are draped around his shoulders like you're back at a middle school dance. His hands travel down to rest in the small of your back. This movement sends small tingles up your spine. You turn your head and gently brush your lips against his cheek, lingering there in the dim light.

"Hey." Jake says as the song ends and you pull away to look at him.

"Hey." You say back, looking into his eyes.

"Do you want to get out of here?" He asks, his hands still firm on your back.

You crane your head and kiss him in reply. Sweet and deep, but also with just a bit of urgency. A promise of things to come.

"Alright, let's go." He says, his eyes a little darker than you saw them last. He leads you away and into the elevator.

.....

Back at the hotel, he pushes the button for the elevator. "The top floor? We're all on 7."

"Just shush." He says smiling down at you mischievously

"You know better than anyone that that's physically impossible for me." You side eye him. "And anyway-"

Your lips are against his in a flash. It's like a dam inside him has finally broken and he's kissing you like the world has ended. You melt into his arms, no resistance left inside you. His tongue just brushes your bottom lip as the elevator slows and prepares to stop. He pulls away.

"The next time you want me to shut up, that'll do. Much less annoying." You say staring into his eyes, damning the elevator.

"Come on." He replies and grabs your hand.

Jake leads you down the hallway and slides a key card out of his pocket. In a flash, a door is open and you're standing in a hotel room much larger and prettier than yours. There's a king sized bed centered against the wall overlooking the entire city. Art covers the walls and a large white bathtub is snuggled in the corner next to a master bathroom with walls of glass. A true penthouse view, not dissimilar from the one at the bar. You glance to your left and spot a huge bouquet of white roses.

"What is all this Jake?" You're a little bit stunned.

He shuts the door and spins you around to face him. "Well, I figured if I was going to romance you I ought to do it right."

Jake's hands are on your hips and his eyes are dark and heavy lidded. You can't find the words to reply, letting the silence fill with the sound of your breathing. You reach up and slowly pull his hair down out of its tie, running your fingers through it and resting your hand at the nape of his neck. The other hand caresses his cheek, thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone and traveling all the way down to gently brush his lower lip. His breath hitches a bit. That's all you need.

Your lips find his again. This kiss is again different than the others. This one tests nothing, asks no questions, and needs no confirmation. It's hot and heavy with a need you've been denying each other for months. The two of you are entwined, a whirl of hands and lips and tongues. Your thighs hit the edge of the mattress, but you have no recognition of moving closer to it. Jake lowers you down onto the bed, settling overtop of you. Pulling away for a moment, he takes a long deep breath. His eyes rake up and down your still clothed form. You smile at him, letting out a breathy laugh.

He catches your lips in another deep kiss and allows his hands to roam up and down your body. His fingertips leave no skin untouched. Your neck, your face, your shoulders, before he creeps up the hem of your shirt and caresses the warm skin of your stomach. Up up up, cupping your breast in his hand. The nipple pebbles in response through the thin fabric of your bra, begging to be touched. You feel his full weight against you and urge your hips up to meet him.

"This has got to go." His voice is low and husky as he tugs your shirt up and you quickly pull it off, tossing it aside. You allow your bra to join it on the floor without hesitation.

He drinks you in, your breasts heaving with the effort of your breath. Your nipples hard and alert. Clear evidence of your arousal. You can feel as he looks at you that the warmth and wetness between your legs is growing by the second. The anticipation. The waiting, the wanting, the needing.

Faces only inches apart, he tears his gaze from your body to your face. There is clear desperation swimming in his expression. "I need you." He says.

"I need you." Your reply breathily.

His eyes grow dark, pupils blown, “Say it again.”

His order throws you off and you hesitate.

“Say it. Again.” He repeats, lifting your chin with his index finger.

“I need you Jake.” Your voice is a whisper.

Still fully clothed, he pulls away. Deftly, his hands work the buttons of your jeans and you're nearly bare save for your underwear.

"Your turn." you gesture a hand at him, regaining some of your composure before he can move closer again. The corners of his mouth creep up into a grin. Before you can protest, his lips are exploring your body. He does however, make the effort to remove his jacket and shirt, tossing them haphazardly across the room.

"Look, you're already wet for me." He teases, gently brushing his fingers against the thin cotton between your thighs just as his mouth closes around your nipple. His tongue flicks, and you gasp which seems to amuse him.

"You know," he says, pausing to trail lips and tongue down the flat of your stomach "I've been dreaming," over the curve of your hip "of tasting you" the tops of your thighs "for months."

You look down at him kneeling at the edge of the bed. He holds your eyes as he kisses the creamy soft skin of your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to the apex. He allows his nose to brush the fabric of your panties and you feel your clit already begging for a release. This is absolutely torturous.

You’re barely aware of the sensation of the cotton fabric sliding down your legs, or the soft trace of his fingertips on your ankles. Not until his mouth fully closes around you do you come back into your body and the fullness of sensation. Your back arches and he presses you down into the bed with one hand while his tongue dances circles around your clit, working you into a frenzy.

Another order rings out suddenly, his lips momentarily abandoning you, your cunt begging for release. “Look at me.”

You obey, desperate for him to continue.

“I want to see you cum. See it in those beautiful eyes alright?” It’s more of an order than a question. You’re more than happy to oblige. Maybe the only instance since you’ve known him that you let yourself concede.

His fingers curl into you, invited in gladly. His eyes never leave yours as his tongue resumes its previous endeavor. You feel the warmth of your impending orgasm rising from your belly and spreading out into your limbs. His fingertips brush that sweet secret spot inside and linger there, moving faster and faster in time with his tongue.

“Jake, Jake, please..” your voice is strangled as you struggle to look at him, resisting the urge to throw your head back as the feeling surges toward you. His eyes remain, dark and deep and endlessly staring into you.

You know you can’t hold on any longer. “Please, oh god, oh god, yes, yes, yes..”

You unravel on his lips, his tongue flicking and lapping as his fingers fuck you, hitting just the right spot to blur your vision and set you on fire. You cry out into the night as you ride the waves of this most intense pleasure.

“Mmm good girl.” He says, relieving his tongue but allowing his fingers to continue. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself oh so sweet on his lips.

“Who knew you could follow orders so well?” He says.

“Only for you Jakey.” You reply as playfully as you can muster through your gasping breaths.

He smirks, curling his fingers inside you just to watch your back arch.

“So meann.” You whine when he returns to his slow steady rhythm.

He chuckles deep in his chest and pecks your lips “I’ll show you mean if you want baby. It could be a very long night for you.”

You do not reply, but hope to yourself that it is a long night. A very, very long night indeed.

Longest chapter so far guys. And our first real taste of spice. Thought it might be fun to make their first date a little Christmas Special while I was at it. Don’t worry though, this particular interaction isn’t over. I just wanted to make sure you had something good to chew on before the holiday. ;)

-E

#greta van fleet #jake gvf #jake kiszka #danny wagner #sam kiszka #greta van fic #josh kiszka #slow burn #soft fic #smut

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danytherelentless · 8 months

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The Silent Wolf

Jon Snow x fem!reader

summary: winters are hard but Northern wolves endure.

warnings: implied/non descriptive smut

This is just a short practice piece whilst I get back into the habit of writing again. It's not that good, but I still wanted to post it.

It is winter, and there is not enough food to put on the table. Even during summer, you could find food to be scarce in the North, but in winter, the coldest of the Kingdoms suffered most from famine.

The snow had not fallen for three days now, a welcome reprieve. And in this reprieve, you decided it would be best for your family to have one less mouth to feed, an act not uncommon in the worst of winters, unfortunately.

You arose before anyone else, stepping over the three sleeping brothers which you shared a bed with, and began to gather your belongings and nothing more.

You leave before anyone has awoken, quiet and sneakily, and do not turn back as you walk beyond the clearing and past the treeline. It is dark, and you have no light, but you do not have high expectations of survival. If the cold does not pick you off, some animal will, or some bandit or other. Perhaps, if you lived long enough, you would starve if you could not find enough food. Alas, you had your pack with furs on your back and a bow strung across your shoulder, axe and knife at your hip so you would endure for as long as you could, and you did not simply plan to just give up.

It was four lonely months in the woods, enduring snows and storms a plenty, when particularly violent snowstorm hits. The most violent you'd experienced yet. You were as prepared as you could be and made camp in your small, lonesome tent, and spent days in the dark, nibbling at your food rations and water, pushing away the quickly mounting snow in your waking hours and going mad all the while. You already were mad, you supposed.

You fall victim to a fever and are unaware of anything happening around you anymore. But you do dream. A dream of spring and a giant wolf with white fur and red eyes. Of a handsome, dark haired stranger with stone, solemn eyes. There are younger ones as well, happy and smiling, and they look just like him. They laugh and run in the green field, the sun bright overhead.

You awake beneath a roof. Furs are stuck to your clammy skin, clothes no longer covering you. You feel panic and quickly sit up. Your head is woozy, dizzying as you try to make sense of your surrounding.

Two piercing red eyes are staring at you, a silent watcher at the foot of where you sleep. A giant mammoth creature of white fur. A direwolf.

You cannot breath in it's presence, cannot find the air to fill your lungs as it stares you down so intensely.

It is only when the cabin door bursts open allowing flurries of white snow in that you look away. A man dressed in the storm steps in and slams the door shut behind him, turning the few locks to it and baring it. A prison? You wouldn't mind a prison. Perhaps without the giant wolf, however.

The tall stranger pulls down the cover to his face, a handsome one. The one of your dreams. He pulls off his fur hood and shakes out his dark curls and slowly pulls away at his layers, unaware of your staring. He was sent by the Gods, surely?

He looks to you finally with those dark eyes, a solemn and tragically beautiful face. You try not to look shocked or guilt ridden. You try to speak then, but words cannot find you.

He turns away, walks over to the lit fire on the opposite side of the cabin and stokes it, adds some more wood. The albino wolf prowls over, remarkably graceful. The cabin is larger than the one you have lived in your entire life, and he seems to fit quite well.

Both wolf and master are silent, and ignore you as he sits before the hearth and heats food. He brings some to you in your weakened state once it is readied, before returning to his place, staring into the flames.

A day passes, and he has slept by side of the fire, leaving you to his bed unless he comes to give you food.

A second passes and you are well enough to stand up and slowly put on your own clothes once again, freshly washed, you notice. He watches you as you do so, the first man to ever see you naked, though you'd shared a bed and room with some of your brothers.

The third day, you dare to sit by the fire when the giant wolf is gone. You wait with bated breath for him to speak, for him to make a move towards you, and you struggle to feel any fear. Oh, you should, you know that. Men are vile creatures and you are at his mercy. Yet you have been deprived of any human contact for months, and it's made your rather careless.

You return to the bed in the evening, and it is after you have eaten that he prowls towards you, pulling off his tunic. You know he wants your body from that look in his eyes, that he wants you. And who are you to refuse? Has he not saved your life, has he not given you shelter? In times of winter that is as good as marriage vows spoken before the eyes of a weirwood tree.

He mounts you atop his furs and rolls his naked hips into yours with deep thrusts, and though it hurts, you cannot help but pull him closer. His flesh is warm and you so cold, a dragon made flesh. His head burrows in the crux of your neck and he bites down and you love it.

He claims you over and over again until you no longer feel any sense of loneliness. He sleeps naked next to you that night in his own bed for the first time since you'd awoken here.

The Old Gods must have granted you your dream of spring before winter has even met it's end. And perhaps with your handsome stranger, you would see the sun shine on a green field once again.

comments are looked upon fondly here, so don't be a stranger :)

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #asoiaf x reader #game of thrones #got #got x reader #got x you

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mirdance · 2 years

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Innamorati

Summary: Darling, even though you might be shared amongst all the Fatui Harbingers, remember who you serve and where your loyalties lie. Remember who saved you. Where this ice rests in eternal sleep, the gods cannot hear your prayers. Only I can. Pairing: Pierro x Reader Rating: NSFW. Implied sexual content, yandere, emotional manipulation, mind games, referenced non-con acts, religious imagery

Notes: This is part of a Fatui Harbinger collab where each Harbinger shares a darling. As usual with me, there will be smut later. Shoutout to Sunnie who created this beautiful header.

Recommended Music. AO3.

Fools preach the joys of worship. Within the Celestia I saw why the gods do not communicate with open arms. That moment judgment forces you to recount what has sat at the center of your soul, pried away like a newborn's first cry, you'll not talk of joy.

Pierro flipped the page. Stains and tears lined the edges, only a reminder of the cycle which fell to all. Each carefully turned page, the sound of ticking, and your soft snores were the only sounds that sailed through the chilled air of his study. An unfinished game of chess sat on the table between you like a forgotten memory.

Sleep. A rarity for any of the Fatui. The moonlight trickled through the window behind him. Cascading snowy shadows decorated the pages of his book. Though snow blanketed the landscape outside, the piles would never completely cover the ambitions of the Snezhnayian people. Like the weight of moonlit snow on pine branches, the soul held strength to endure.

What sort of things would you endure?

He’d thought the chess game before him would provide useful intel. Games and toys were worthwhile if they were useful. Take a children's slingshot, for example. While entertaining for the young, it also served the purpose of teaching survival. Dolls taught young ones the art of conversation. Stuffed animals provided some substitute for the innate instinct of touch. A proper toy also served as a tool.

Taking the toys away or losing them also taught important life lessons.

But the so-called toy that sat before him had yet to elaborate on its gifts. Striving to hone one's abilities was one of the beauties and curses of human nature. For each of the Harbingers, a toy's survival differed. For Pierro, useless toys were unneeded. While many collect toys to sit and look pretty, his toys needed to provide.

Another page.

"Who knows if the gods understand the greatness of the human soul, even while watching us prattle the secrets of our lives. Human suffering is a power in its own right, one they could never fathom. A god's memory reeks of apathy while treachery against the tormented lasts for generations. The people cry out in holy prayers--dirt embedded within the nailbeds of their crossed fingers--for rest. Yet Istaroth never provides the time for that peace, and prayers on one's knees only waste daylight. The cathedral words fade as a snowflake upon winter heaps until they are all but frozen as one beneath boot prints. Still, the gods demand that knee, as if they already didn't have the universe."

Another page.

Gusts of wind bellowed against the trembling window. Your eyes slowly opened and took a moment to process the setting like a mammal coming out of hibernation. Pierro continued reading while your brain and body took its time to catch up with being awake.

He'd spent hours playing chess with you. After all, the other Harbingers often put your body to its limits; it was only kind of him to provide you with what was probably a much-needed break. Falling asleep was not what he had in mind for that break, but he had a text to analyze, anyway. There was always something to do, and his toy didn't provide much usefulness in the things needing done.

Your upper lip moved in hesitation to permit words, an apology probably, but you quickly tightened your jaw. Some comrades did not enjoy being spoken to without speaking first. Pierro did not care unless the words were pointless. Of course, the meaning of words differed from individual to individual. What words a person provided told their story.

What was your story?

Words also provided layers like the blanketed snow above deadly ice above freezing waters. They veiled and masqueraded. Yet that, too, told a story in itself.

"The way you silence yourself reveals much of what you've had to endure," Pierro commented while flipping another page. "Speak freely with me unless I deem otherwise."

You bit your inner cheek and eyed the chessboard as if it would change design by sheer will alone. "Forgive me, but hearing you say that provides little comfort in this situation."

"I know we've gained little ground in terms of mutual trust, but what you provide for the Harbingers is paramount. In my presence, though, I've yet to see its fruition. Alone with me, you do not have to sit and look pretty, even if it is a pleasant side benefit."

You didn't bother with your next move even though it had been your turn before slumber reached. "Well," you croaked, testing the sounds against your alveolar ridge. "What book are you reading?"

"It’s the journal of a fallen soldier," he answered, which was not totally a falsehood. "A rather blasphemous book to many. Are you religious?"

You shrugged. "I suppose it depends on who's asking."

Smart. "I see. So, you are not religious. It seems we have something in common."

You shifted your legs. "That's a surprise, considering your loyalty to the Tsaritsa."

"Indeed. For her, I am devoted. One could see that in a religious sense depending on the perspective. Is there anything to which you are devoted?"

The chess pieces remained as thoughts circled your mind, reflected through your pupils. "Not anything I can think of at this time."

Bold. "Everyone is devoted to something, even if they do not see. Tell me, are you familiar with Mondstadtian theatre?"

You shook your head. Your eyes briefly flickered to his and back to the board again.

"For monarchs of old, royalty kept a court jester. Jesters had many vocations within their role. Comedic relief was one. The same goes for the jester of a play. Often these Fools would point out shortcomings within royal meetings or people and stories in humorous ways. Like a dance of death, teetering on offense yet accurate. The audience laughs, yet those with understanding know what lies beneath the surface of the hilarity. The Jester knows all, the story from beginning to end, as well as the enigmas of each character."

He flipped a page before speaking again.

"Some people might say the Fool not necessary for a good story. Why have a clown recite the story when the words are already presented to you in the form of dialogue"

He continued scanning his pages.

"Ah," you spoke. "Probably so the audience knows when they're being tricked and what they're up against. Maybe the interpretation is less convoluted that way?"

Interesting. "Some would view that as hand holding. If the Fool's words are even to be trusted, of course. Many a people make for unreliable narrators, and that includes Fools. Still, the importance of their position within the story is unlike any other."

"I didn't take you for the humorous type," you commented carefully, almost biting the words back as if you'd accidentally bitten your tongue.

He chuckled. "Maybe not, no. I am not necessarily devoted to any sort of typical humor, but the role itself is fascinating, wouldn't you agree?"

You nodded.

Dialogue, the art of conversation, would pierce through you yet.

“To circle back to your inquiry. Ah, before that, tell me,” he ran his fingers through his beard. “Are you literate?”

You nodded.

He waited a few beats for you to elaborate, but no sound came. Still, being literate at all was a feat in itself. Just how literate were you was the question. He stood from his chair with book in hand and knelt beside yours. With a flick of his thumb, his saved reading spot was open to your eyes.

“Care to join me in the pleasure of reading?” he inquired. “You can go first.”

With a careful nod, you cleared your throat to begin. “Waylaying the plans of a god might seem prideful to those without ears to hear, but what would man say if that same god took the innocence of their child away? I have reached the heavens, only to see a throne in name. The same throne that grants vision in the same breath that it snuffs them. Waning though I am, I can still remember the tiny fist of my daughter, stamping her knuckles against her game bored at her loss. In the same way, gods demolish the board rather than admit their wrongdoing.”

You paused in thought. The edge of your braid tickled his arm as you leaned to glean more of the book’s content. And then you spoke. “When I was a child learning to read, I remember my mother gifting me a fairytale. The tale featured a bear that couldn’t fish. Though the reading level was simple, the words confounded me. After many desperate attempts, I threw the book against the wall.” A chuckle softly escaped your lips. “My mother in the next room never even heard.”

“You seem to be doing fine now,” he noted.

“Yes, I’ve…had plenty of opportunity to study. Not to mention that little me was also very determined to pick the book up off the ground the next day and try again.”

“Do you think the gods in this story similar to your dilemma as a child?”

You pondered the question. “While I’d need more context, I’d say the message the author is trying to implicate here is that the gods in this tale act more like petulant children rather than trying to learn or grapple an understanding of their creation.”

Pierro hummed in approval. “Maybe the gods aren’t ignorant or weak as much as they are prideful.” Though every single being, including gods, had a weakness. Felling a god proved difficult, but once fallen, it was a matter of destroying the remaining shades.

“I would say that is the downfall of many,” you replied as your eyes scanned more words on the page. “But it could also be a strength, I think, depending on the context.”

Pierro shifted on his knees and beseeched you to elaborate.

“Well, taking pride in your accomplishments is one of the beauties that life affords us, I think. Feeling proud for creating something nice or doing well. Those are normal human emotions. With anything, it can become a burden if you allow.” You gestured towards your barely touched glass of wine. “Like alcohol.”

“Are you not one for wine? Or was it not to your taste?”

Your hands quickly gestured in disagreement. “The taste is delectable I just…have learned that having smaller amounts makes for more pleasant company.”

Or you were wary of what one might put in a drink, Pierro mused. Not to mention that clarity was vital when dealing with Harbingers. Not that Dottore kept such things in mind; wine was probably restful in comparison with whatever medications he played with. Pierro didn’t begrudge your slowness of drink. On the contrary, having such mindfulness of your surroundings was endearing.

“There is no need to worry.” He took one of your hands —cold to the touch— in his and rested it in your lap. “I am more curious about your mind. While wine is certainly one way into a person’s mind, I would prefer yours to be unclouded.” Gaining trust without the help of alcohol proved more useful in the long run.

You did not push his hand away. “My mind,” you whispered. Your gaze fell to the side along with a chuckle that puffed from your dry lips. “Would you dissect me like Dottore?” Pierro chuckled in turn. “Not physically, no.” “Why was I chosen to be here,” you quickly pleaded. Your hand trembled slightly beneath his own. “My talents are miniscule, even if all you people wanted was a fuck toy.”

Your brashness struck him as if you’d struck him with his book. “Interesting. So, you think you are nothing but a fuck toy. Tell me, don’t you take pride in anything?”

“I used to.” Someday you’d elaborate without being prompted. He was certain. “What was something that you used to have pride in then? If I might be so bold, I do not think it was chess.”

Now that caused a laugh. “No, but it was something similar. Fencing. The sport. Smallsword style. It is often said that fencing is like chess at the speed of light.”

That was news to him. Glancing at your arms and thighs, he could tell even through the fabric you wore. One bicep protruded more than the other, and even with one eye he could see the shapely tone of your legs that drifted down the plush chair as gracefully as a ballet dancer. While the sport itself was not one hundred percent in tune with combat abilities, it did prove useful for many instances. Were you competitive? Judging by the unfinished chess board, competition was not at the forefront of your mind.

“Fascinating. I have heard that such a sport is popular in Fontaine. Did it originate there as well?” He’d known the origins, of course, and he’d known that those origins were not the true origins. As with most things of this world, beginnings were buried within the surface away from prying eyes. To know the beginning would be to know the fragility of the world and its creators. Perhaps some would think it best to keep such things buried beneath the dirt so that those who could abuse such knowledge kept away.

“The origins are a bit complex, but the sport derives from many different cultures,” you chirped, pulling your hand away from his and to your chest.

Pierro encouraged you to go further. He wanted, needed, to hear what you could put forth. And as the words poured from your mouth, he was blessed with an output of excitement that slowly bubbled from your stomach to your esophagus to your tongue until it settled in the sporadic gestures of your palms. Endearing could certainly describe the scene, but only time would tell if the joyful glint in your eyes was simply because you hadn’t had a proper conversation in so long. Either way, the passion you bestowed pierced the very air like a perfume.

During a pause, Pierro spoke up. “Would you call yourself adept with the blade?”

The book had been long closed and set to the side, yet he still lingered by your chair’s side to follow your gestures and eyes.

A slow and steady grin graced your lips. “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m awful. Sometimes I helped the local children. There are many people better than I, though.”

“There will always be those that are better than we are, even with the things we are passionate about. It seems, though, that perhaps this is something you could take some pride in, hm?”

You exhaled. “Maybe so.”

Silence hung in the air with the unspoken; your arrangement did not provide you time for leisurely pursuits. Pierro doubted many of his Harbingers allowed for such times. He would find out, though, and with each piece of information he could understand where their mindsets lie. This was especially important considering the unrest that trembled through the Fatui. The unease that came with death and ranks and betrayal.

Pierro rubbed his thumb gingerly over the leather of his book, waiting to see if you’d continue your tantalizing speech.

You did not.

Instead, your eyes fixated on the chess board.

Pierro gripped the book in his hand and lunged his arm forward toward your chest. Surprise lined your features, yet your arm instinctively parried his attack to your right quarter. As if on instinct, you riposte with your hand to his chest. After a momentary victory grin, shock flushed your features; you stilled as frozen as a prey. Your hand stayed resting on his chest, probably unsure of how to proceed. Striking a Harbinger, whether a form of self defense or not, could be detrimental for you unless otherwise granted permission. Perhaps you’d become so wrapped in the conversation that you’d forgotten where you were.

Which was the idea.

Pierro bowed his head slightly forward and gently pressed his hand over yours. “It seems the touch is in your hands. The point goes to you.”

Your hand quickly retracted; you held it to your chest. “I didn’t know we were…sporting. I apologize.”

He chuckled. “Well, you didn’t seem interested in chess, so I figured the scene could use something you might be interested in.” “Why…” you stuttered. Your brows knit together as your jaw clenched. “Why would you care about what I’m interested in?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” Pierro replied calmly. He leaned his elbow on the armrest of your chair. “I’m interested in getting to know you.”

“Why.”

“Why does anyone want to get to know another?”

“To use them.”

“That could be a reason for some. But aren’t we all using each other, then? Even for love, comfort, contact, companionship. Basic human needs. One works for his employer to feed his family. Another works to surpass his employer. Each culture and society dictate which reason is more noble. Do you find one more noble than the other?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know anymore. Most might say love or companionship. But I…” You hugged yourself. “Food. Less pain. If that. If I can get those things, I’d do anything. Who gives a fuck about getting to know each other when I’ve hardly eaten in two days and my arms hurt from getting slung around? The bruises haven’t even healed.”

You winced before Pierro could even blink, most likely expecting a blow that never came. Pierro was not one to succumb to anger as easily as some of his Harbingers. Your anger only opened you up more, made you more vulnerable. In some ways, it was beautiful.

He gently took your chin between his fingers and watched water form into droplets that welled from the corners of your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks. He ran a thumb along one of the water trails and took a tear onto his thumb. Your lower lip shook as you tried to bite back the emotions. It had probably been many moons since you’d had a moment to allow yourself the time to anguish. To grieve everything you had lost.

“It’s okay to cry for now. The range of human emotions knows no bounds, and you may not get the chance to mourn later. But your basic needs. I will provide them. You will not be without food, shelter, or clothing. You will not lose your life here. In exchange, I need something from you.”

He continued wiping away the wetness of your face with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Become a Harbinger.”

“What?”

“I cannot promise you complete safety or status. But if you become my eyes, I can make things more bearable for you. All I need is loyalty and what comes with that.”

“That…that sounds too good to be true,” you croaked. “I don’t really want to be a Harbinger…what does that even mean for me?”

“When you’re on duty with another Harbinger, I need you to report every single detail to me upon return. You will receive a new name. You’ll most likely stay within headquarters, but that does not mean you will not ever go out into the field. This likely means bowing to their whims just as you do now. Possibly more so since you will be their underling. But along with your information comes my promise to provide you with more comfort.”

“So I’m just a spy?” You laughed. “Just another tool?”

“Do you have any other choices?”

You frowned at the floor for a moment, catching yourself about to speak and then slamming your lips shut. Pierro would allow you time, of course. Not that you knew that. It was easier to catch you in this moment than allow time to think. Either way, you’d take the opportunity. Pierro would probably do the same if he were in your shoes.

“I’ll do it.”

“Well, then,” he softly grabbed your clenched hand and leaned to place his lips against your knuckles in a kiss. “Your partnership is appreciated. Your name is now Innamorati, number twelve of the Fatui Harbingers. Though we bow to her Majesty the Tsaritsa, never forget where your loyalties lie.”

Number twelve and traitor to them all. Official ceremonies and authorization would be yet to come, but you didn’t need to know such things. What mattered was the power of the mind, how you viewed yourself, your choices, and your duty. All of which aligned with the stage he’d set to play. While the physical chessboard sat dormant to the side, a more important one laid in the palm of the hand that held yours.

#pierro #pierro x reader #pierro/reader #yandere fatui harbingers x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #mir writes

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george-weasleys-girl · 9 months

Text

North Star Series

Chapter 38 : The Proposal

Start here:

Summary: George makes a proposal

Warnings: none that I can think of

~•~

"I'M FINE! EVERYTHING'S FINE! WHY DO YOU KEEP ASKING ME THAT?!"

The last couple of weeks had been rough, with Fred pretending that he was okay and then blowing up anytime Y/N or George asked how he was doing. Or whenever they looked at him. Or breathed in his general direction.

It was all George could do to not start pulling his own hair out. "I don't know what to do anymore. The least little thing sets him off. He wasn't nearly this bad the first time he and Angie split," he'd told Y/N. "Oh, and speaking of Angie, any luck with her?"

Y/N shook her head. "No. Apparently, she's fine, too."

George sighed and flopped back on the bed. He'd postponed asking Y/N the big question. He just didn't feel right proposing while Fred was still reeling over his break-up. It felt like he would be somehow flaunting his happy relationship in his brother's face. It was a thought that weighed heavy on him.

And yet...

It wasn't the only thing weighing on his poor heart. With each passing day, George's resolve to wait crumbled more and more. Soon, he knew it would give way completely.

The point of no return.

"Got any ideas?" He turned to Y/N, who'd lay down next to him, her head propped up in her hand.

"Well..." she began. "It's the holiday season, so that probably isn't helping. Not much we can do about that, unfortunately. But we can do something about him being holed up in the apartment all the time. Maybe you could take him out somewhere for a bit?"

"Out?"

"Yeah, into muggle London. Just the two of you. A guy's day out kinda thing. That should be safe enough, I think."

George looked thoughtful. "It has been a while since he and I did something like that. Just us two. It's worth a shot," he smiled at Y/N. "Now all we have to do is convince him."

Proposing the idea was easy. Persuading Fred was a different matter altogether. But in the end, George won out, and the following Monday, the one day a week that they closed the store, he and Fred went out on their little adventure.

~•~

It was a rare thing for Y/N to have the place to herself. She spent most of the morning working in her lab, the hours flying by unnoticed, until her stomach started nibbling on her other organs for sustenance. Figuring it was best to feed it, she called it quits for the day and enjoyed a quiet lunch of leftover soup while relaxing by the window, watching the first snowflakes of the year fall.

As a child, she all but lived outside when it snowed, making snowmen, sledding, and getting into snowball fights with the neighboring kids. And while she still loved doing all that, as she grew older, she began to appreciate its quiet, calm simplicity. Her grandad had always said it was nature's way of saying, "Stop and rest. Enjoy this moment instead of trying to hurry on to the next one." It wasn't until now, with all the uncertainty and fear engulfing her world, that Y/N truly understood what he meant.

With that thought in mind, she yawned and stretched. Time to take those words to heart, she thought. It's been far too long since I endulged in a nice long bath with a good book.

~•~

Y/N almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of the boys apparating back home. She was no longer in the bath but was instead relaxing on the bed, so engrossed in her book, that she'd briefly forgotten she wasn't wandering down the streets of Kyoto.*

The familiar pop was followed by quite a bit of commotion and the sound of laughter. Sounds like things went well. She smiled and headed toward the living room, only to screech to a halt in the doorway as two tiny furballs zoomed across her feet. "What the -"

"Hello darling!" George sprinted over, giving her a quick kiss before gathering up two wiggly little kittens. "The muggle animal shelter was having something called an 'empty the shelter' event for Christmas. So we got these two rascals." He held up the black one, who, having now waged war on George's hand, was gnawing away on his index finger. "This is Smudge. He picked out Fred." Then he held up the orange and white one who'd quite happily snuggled up in George's other hand. "And this little purrbox is Jellybean. She chose me."

Completely enamored, Y/N reached her hands out to both kittens. Smudge immediately stopped attacking George's fingers and began sniffing Y/N's. Jellybean yawned and did the same. Within seconds, they'd both crawled into her arms.

"I think they like me," Y/N grinned.

"Of course they do," George slid his arm around her waist. "Now, c'mon, we've got a couple more surprises."

Y/N stepped into the living room and stopped, her mouth falling open.

"What do you think?" Fred asked with a gigantic smile.

Words failed her as she beheld the behemoth that was now taking up half the living room. The cat tower was nothing sort of awe-inspiring. Upon seeing it, both kitties leaped from her arms and scampered over to explore the mini forest.

"It's... it's amazing," Y/N marveled and moved closer to investigate it herself.

~•~

George lay awake that night long after Y/N had drifted off. Curled in a little ball above his head slept Jellybean and at their feet lay the second surprise, Madam Mim. She was an elderly cat who'd been at the shelter for almost seven months. She'd been there the longest and looked so sad and defeated that he and Fred just couldn't leave her behind. It took a couple of hours, but once she realized she was home, she burst out of her shell, cuddling everyone in turn and even playing with kittens and Nyx a little.

He couldn't help but smile. Things were finally looking up. Now that Fred had Smudge, George could already see his twin coming back to himself. He knew it wasn't an instant cure for his brother's broken heart, but it was a start. And that was enough.

He glanced up at his dresser and then back to Y/N. Now that Fred was on the mend, there was only one thing left for George to do.

~•~

*If you're curious about the book Y/N is reading, its 'Memoirs of a Geisha' by Arthur Golden

~•~

@milivanili99 @slytherclaw1978 @quackitysdrugdealer @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @fancy-pantaloons @samberriejams @totalwitch2 @aslanvez @mrsgweasley @morally-grey-obsessed @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @junerprsh @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @planetkt @thankyouforanonymity @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @smallsweetvanillabean @themaraudersslut @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @peachesgaeass

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x you #fred weasley x platonic #hp fandom #hp universe #north star series

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supernovafeather · 1 year

Text

No Future?

FO!Poe x Rebel!Reader

Content : enemy to less enemy, quick mention of sexual content (not explicit), only one bed trope and it's cold trope (?), angst.

Summary: Reader and Poe got stranded on an unknown planet and have been forced to cohabitate for several months and wait for a rescue team to help them out.

The cold attempting in vain to bite your skin refused to weaken and your own stubborness started to falter. After over a month spent at hiding in a lone First Order tent in the middle of a perpetual blizzard on this remote planet, you realized how much the microcosm constituting your present life had changed.

“I've known opinionated rebels but you still deserve to be considered as their queen. Congratulations.”

Poe himself wasn't the same anymore and despite his dark uniform that got affected by the frozen bitterness from the outside world a while ago, he could have passed for a tired – and tiresome – Resistance fighter that stranded with his co-pilot. But no, he remained the First Order guy that crashed down just as pathetically as you did. And whether he liked it or not, he didn't have the qualifications to keep on taunting you.

“At least I'm not the one on the verge of losing my hands with some stupid plan.” You spat at him as you watched the man digging on the hard and cold ground in a tent corner.

Over a month in his company in such a tight space could have driven you crazy much sooner. The only thing that managed to keep you sane enough to protect your survival instinct was the surprisingly good entente between the both of you. The dozen of blankets of different sizes you managed to bring back from hasted expeditions conducted in the nearby ghost town also helped a lot, even when it meant you had to cuddle with a sworn enemy every night.

“Here you go, another stupid plan of mine,” he grunted, “tell me when I get clever for a change.”

“I'm only human, I have to talk. I can't keep silent forever.”

“And then you complain whenever I say anything and yet you say something as blank and obvious as the mere fact that you are human.”

Discussions formed a seemingly eternal circle in such an uninteresting environment. The morning would start smoothly in a sleepy and warm atmosphere as you had all the time in the world to wake up properly. Then you would eat some animal hunted the day before and protected by a layer of snow right by the tent entrance as you complimented each other's cooking skills. Then you would complain about each other's cooking skills and how awful those kind of moles would taste like anyway. Then arguments would last for several hours as you tried to figure out a plan.

At last you would fall asleep both on your side of the island of blanket filling a good part of the tent before gathering at the same spot to share some warmth. That, every day without an exception for over a month.

At some point you started to pray a god you didn't even believed in to get a loophole even if that meant your new companion's death. After all he was a First Order pilot that killed countless of your pilots.

“Just shut up for five minutes, or even for the rest of the day,” you replied sourly.

“Then move your ass from there and come help me!”

“There is nothing to reach down there!”

This predicament was certainly starting to affect his sanity as well. For a few days he has had that weird obsession of using an old broken shovel to dig a hole big enough to create some tunnel. He never really explained anything but it seemed to be a matter of expending the living space in this recluded shelter.

“Do you have any idea of the amount of energy you are spending to get that done,” you asked with a sigh, “we are running out of meat and they're getting rarer outside, and you barely progressed.”

“Bad faith.”

Swallowing back the venimous insults that threatened to leave your mouth, you lied back into the blanket as you watched him digging desperately. After two weeks he barely managed to take off enough dirt for the ground to come up to his knee level. Poe's hygiene declined quickly between the sweat and dirt and lack of access to a shower, and fortunately you were starting to get accustomed to that part of him – not that you believed yourself to be in a better condition yourself and maybe he deserved some merit for his tolerance.

Instead of arguing any further, you did shut your mouth but his grunts and muffled swearings were getting seriously on your nerves. Sir Dameron woke up in a bad mood and got obsessed and frustrated even more than usual about his tasks.

“Going outside.”

The metal sound stopped as he watched you put some thick clothes above your own rebel pilot outfit. Two pairs of gloves, three pairs of sockets, a damaged woolen hat and some protective old school pilot glasses on and you were outside, crawling to the area preserved from the blizzard thanks to your two partially disassembled that took the shape of a wall surrounding the southern side exposed to the hostile elements. The noises it created worried you to no end during the first week, but despite the windy scream and the metal parts creaking and trembling you now felt relieved. Finally. Poe shut up.

It created some narrow court behind the grey tent. Cold, sterile if not for the tiny grass growing here and there under the thich layer of snow, but comforting. You gathered some to put it down all over the thent edges so the breeze couldn't infiltrate the gaps. Here you were getting too hot with your clothes but you had no will to go back inside.

You didn't hate Poe. It was quite the opposite actually but living the same thing without anything new to say didn't permit you to enjoy his personality at its full potential. Such a warm soul was surprising for a famous First Order soldier and it hurt. He would be the kind of guy drinking some strong alcohol with his friends while making fun of your brothers and sisters killed in combat befire falling asleep like a drunk baby with a stupid smile on his handsome face, maybe with a gorgeous woman by his side that found him amazing for being himself.

You couldn't believe it. Poe followed you and was now crawling against the ground to get out of the tent in his pants and shirt, his dark hair still wet with perspiration.

“Kriff,” you exclaimed with your arms crossed, “go dig your hole if that's so important to you but stop harassing me!”

“Please help I'm freezing.”

You did as asked because he remained polite, your teeth clenched as you got him back onto his feet. The poor bastard seemed to have been boiling inside and some steam spiraled up from his skin as he grimaced at the temperature difference, his hair covered in melting snow.

“Don't tell me I need to tell you to go back inside to cover yourself,” you growled.

“I saw you were consolidating that stuff so I wanted to help.”

“I don't need help to add snow. I just have to bend over and pick it up. Go back inside you're going to freeze.”

“No. I like quiet places,” he argued.

“Enjoy it then.”

You gave up and walked past the few chaotic layers of metal surrounding the tent and finally you reached your favorite place on this planet. The blizzard died down just enough so the violent twirling winds couldn't blind you completely, and the nigtmarish landscape beneath your eyes deployed its full beauty for you only. Around 9 miles high, the gigantic blueish and whitish cliffs dominated the desolated scenery where nothing could survive apart some resilient and almost unknown viruses you wished to never get infected by. Poe and you got lucky to crash so high and in a concentred spot, at around 8 miles high. Down there you would have died in less than ten minutes. You could distinguish some grass patches under the thick fog. You had no idea of where you were exactly. Gigantic frozen cliffs surrounded that place and the eerie atmosphere now started to freak you out. Maybe Poe wasn't such a bad company. You mourned your rescue a few days ago. No one could get onto that planet safely, and no one could get off of it, especially with no ship.

“Booh.”

The pair of arms snaking around your waist made your heart drop almost at the bottom of the cliff but at least got you rid off your anxiety rising at the view before your eyes. Poe put his own polar clothes on and held tight at you as he talked next to your ear.

“Come back inside, the radar warned of a...”

The sudden silence knocked the air out of your lungs and you followed Poe without complaining. Usually whenever a blizzard died down it was the sign of a bigger one coming, so intense that nature itself had to breathe in shortly to concentrate all its strength on this cursed planet. Breaks only lasted for a couple of minutes.

After a quick run you got to crawl next to each other to get some moles burried deep down, then gather snow to seal the tent entrance completely.

“Here you go, now that's better.” Poe sighed in relief as he lied down on the blankets with his clothes soaked with melting snow. “Now we only have to wait for it to end. Nothing like warm blankets and dubious squishy meat here.”

“It's going to be hard for a few days, there's not much.”

“Not that kind of squishy meat but no problem if you want some.”

It was part of your life now, to laugh at that silly joke while knowing that yes, you were going to have all the time in the world to warm up with him again. You were condemned on that cliff and didn't know how long that would last.

No one told you how long or short forever could be, especially without any hope for a brighter future.

- - - - -

Thank you for reading, please reblog if you liked it ! ☺️

@queen-of-elves @laura-naruto-fan1998 @thepowerthismanhasoverme @justmasblack

#oscar isaac #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #dark fic #fo!poe x you #fo!poe x reader #first order poe

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fionaosmvn · 8 months

Text

location: end of summer bash, the day after the rave for: @aidenxstevens

Fiona hadn’t slept more than a couple hours; after getting home at three in the morning, she’d spent until sunrise crying in bed, clutching her raggedy old gray wolf stuffed animal and letting her specifically-designed sad Submergence playlist run on repeat until she’d finally fallen into a shallow, fitful sleep around seven am. When she’d woken up three hours later she’d still had a headache and popped three maximum strength Ibuprofen before trying fruitlessly to sleep more, and finally at noon she’d gotten up and showered and tried to make herself feel better by determining to go out and walk around town during the festivities.

Even better, she'd thought as she was getting dressed, she ought to make Aiden go with her. And so she had.

Usually being around him would have instantly put her in a better mood, but even after meeting up with him near one of the booths in town square, she still can't seem to find her usual good humor. Two separate fights last night had emotionally drained her in a way that, generally, Fiona was too good at avoiding her scarier emotions to fall victim to.

"I'm not even hungry," she says mournfully, staring down at a melting snow cone she'd bought. "Last night was the worst night of my life, I'm serious. I've been sick to my stomach for like, almost twelve hours now." Releasing a heavy, burdened sigh, she asks, "Did you have fun at least?"

#chat #chat: aiden #with: aiden #closed starter #rave event

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lumiereandcogsworth · 8 months

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wait omg I don't have any specific asks abt young adam but I would love to hear any headcanons you have about him and his mom 🥺 I remember that lil flashback we see in the movie standing out to me so much, I just know she was the sweetest woman in the world

often for bedtime stories, his mother would tell him about her life before she became royal. about her brothers and her parents and their animals and playing in the sunshine and warm dinners and laughter. she’d always promise to take him there some day.

adam has early memories of sitting in her room while she got ready for a dinner or ball. he’d sit on her bed and play while her lady’s maid dressed her and did her hair and makeup. eventually, the maid would leave and his mother would sit at her vanity. the moment that happened, adam would slide off the bed and climb onto her lap. they’d spend every minute together until the nanny would come to take him away and the queen would have to join the party.

they played in the garden a lot, particularly around his mother’s roses. they’d run around and play hide & seek and tag. they’d also collect flowers for the vase in her room and sit in the sunshine and she would sing to him. they’d go for walks when the cherry blossom trees were in bloom and the pink petals would fall like snow and it always felt a little magical.

on his birthday (august 26th) she would always make a special little chocolate cake for him, a tradition she carried over from what her mother always did for her and her brothers on their birthdays. she would also often send lumiere and plumette to paris to find a present for him, if she would not be going there with the king around the time.

adam was very quiet by nature, even to his mother, but he definitely lit up the most around her. he never said much to anyone when he was little, but you could quite easily tell he was happiest in his mother’s presence. he’d kick his legs and shake his arms when he saw her. and he’d cling to her dress or hand when others were around.

many nights when there was either a storm or a bad dream, little adam would brave the darkness in order to run to the safety of his mother’s room. he’d run in and climb into her bed and nestle right in her arms. she would wake and hold him tight and sing soft lullabies to him to help him fall asleep.

winter and christmas were also a special time. adam’s father often spent his winters in paris or versailles, leaving his wife and son behind. adam and his mother Loved this, of course. they would play in the snow every day and snuggle in her bed every night, the whole castle always smelling of cinnamon and gingerbread.

one of adam’s core memories, which i’ve written this fic about, so i’ll only say it briefly here, is when he was around four years old and his mother woke him in the middle of the night to bring him to the stables. he got to witness the birth of his first horse, etienne.

adam was very prone to meltdowns, especially if any changes happened or if he couldn’t see his mother when he had been told he could, or if his father yelled or slammed a door or hit him. adam was very sensitive to his environment and it would often bring him to tears and/or tantrums. his mother was pretty much the only one that could get him to calm down eventually.

as he got a bit older and started studying with the private tutors, he took so much joy in infodumping about new things to his mother. she never had a proper education, her brothers taught her to read and write, so she was always so fascinated by what adam told her. he’d spend hours telling her things, sometimes. they’d walk around the garden or ride a horse together and he’d ramble on. (truly the only time he’s ever considered a chatterbox is if he’s infodumping. otherwise he was so so quiet and still is generally).

when his mother got sick and became bed-ridden, she told him to keep an eye on the flowers and horses for her. so every day he’d come visit her and tell her how they were doing. he’d also tell her about what he was studying and reading. he was getting very interested in books by this age (nine). many nights he would stay in her room and read to her. she’d fall asleep before him and he’d eventually close the book and snuggle next to her. he could tell she was getting weaker but he’d close his eyes and pretend they were at the farm with her brothers in the sunshine. hoping one day they’d get there.

#aughghshdjs 😭 thank you alex <3 #also for anyone picking up vibes by what i said. yes i headcanon adam as autistic!❤️#anyway. crying and sobbing on the floor #adam #batb headcanons #batb 2017 #beauty and the beast (2017)#beauty and the beast 2017 #prince adam #queen renée

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rose-pearls · 2 years

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Arrow - Part 7 (Last Part)

Summary: waiting in the snow was not the best idea but after a scare everything goes well.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

For the fifth time I took a look at my tracker to make sure that it was on and once again it was, my watch had stopped working due to the crash, so I don’t know how long it has been since Rooster and Maverick left to get back to the carrier. My clothes have been drenched because of the snow and I’m starting to feel cold. It has to be at least an hour since we crashed here and yet it feels like hours, sitting here against the tree putting pressure on my wound but the trees around me are becoming more and more blurry as I try to stay awake, knowing that closing my eyes and giving in would only make this worse.

I wonder what my dad would’ve done in this situation, but I can’t think of him in such a situation, Iceman who made no mistakes when he flew. I miss him, knowing that we won’t be spending any Christmases or birthdays together anymore breaks my heart and I feel tears in my eyes. Sometimes I wished that I was the one that had that cancer but deep down I know that it would’ve destroyed my dad to see any of us in a bad state.

“Dad?”, I blink my eyes a couple of times to see if I’m dreaming or hallucinating but all I can see is my father smiling softly towards something behind me. Does this mean I’m going to die? Some people hallucinate just before they die and even though I want to join my dad I can’t help but think of Fire, my mom and Rooster that are back on that carrier and that probably need me.

A small laugh can be heard behind me, and I see a little me running towards my father who looks younger now, she jumps into his arms and they both laugh in joy. I remember that day, it was my fifth birthday and we had spent the day at the zoo laughing and looking at the animals. The tears that were in my eyes are falling at the sight of it and I want to get up and join them, hoping that it will stop the heartache and the hurt all over my body.

In the background I hear a sound that seems like a helicopter, but I push it aside still looking at my dad who is looking at me with little me in his arms and an arm open willing me to join them in the hug. I go towards him, and I don’t feel any pain anymore in my chest, like the wound is gone but before I can go further, I hear a small voice.

“Hey Arrow, it’s me Rooster. It has been a few hours since they found you in the woods nearly frozen and blood around you.”, I hear him take a deep breath and the next time he talks I hear the tears that are nearly falling in his voice.

“They say you are in some sort of coma, and that there is a chance that you won’t wake up.”, I feel my heart break at the sound of his voice, it seems wrecked in sobs and for a moment I only hear him sobbing.

“I – I shouldn’t have left you there, I know that.”, I want to go towards him but as I look back, I see my father laying on the ground just like he was in his last moments looking at me with a pleading look. I feel myself going towards me until a whispering voice stops me, Rooster.

“You shook my world you know. The moment you came into my life I knew it was never going to be the same again.”, I can hear him smiling and I feel myself smiling.

“You were there for me, told me to get over myself when needed but most of all you believed in me. When Maverick pulled my papers, I thought that I wasn’t good enough but then you came in straight like an arrow through my heart and showed me that I was enough.”, Rooster is once again crying and I feel lost, between Rooster and my father who was there waiting for me. After a moment Rooster speaks again.

“Fire nearly lost it when they brought you back, she was screaming through the hospital wing that you had to wake up and come back. The whole squad has been a shell of themselves, even Hangman doesn’t seem to know what to do. I’ve been a mess since I left you in the snow and-”, Rooster’s breath hitches at his words and I feel tears on my cheeks.

“You probably can’t hear me but god Arrow, I love you.”, my heart jumps at his words just like it did before they went to get back to the carrier and I want to tell him that I love him too, but I can’t seem to be able to talk.

“I don’t know when I fell for you, but I can’t imagine a life without you. Every time I see something I think of you and how I’ve got to tell you about it. Every time I see a couple at the Hard Deck, I wish I could be with you.”, Rooster seems to be crying again and I want to hold him and tell him that I’m right here.

“Pleas – please don’t leave me, not you to.”, the tears are streaming down my cheeks as I hear his sobs and I can’t think of anything anymore.

“Rooster, you should eat something, she wouldn’t want you to forget to take care of yourself.”, Fire, she recognizes her sisters voice and for once she wants her sister to shake her to wake her up.

I can still hear Rooster’s sobs as I look back to where my father is and for once in my life, I know what to do.

“I’m sorry.”, I whisper in the air and the smile that my father gives me at my words is wide and is reassuring like coming home after a long trip. The next thing I know everything is black.

Rooster knows he should listen to Fire and go eat but he can’t leave her side, not when she looks so pale. Suddenly the machines are starting to come back to life and a doctor arrives pushing the both of them to the side.

Fire grips his arm, and he takes her into his arms trying to reassure himself and her at the same time, but he hears Fire sob in his chest, and he knows that neither of them will be able to calm down.

This is it he thinks, this is how I lose her after everything, but his thoughts stop at the sound of ragged breathing and coughing. Fire stills in his arms and looks back towards the bed, seeing her sister being checked up by the doctor while she coughs.

She feels tears streaming down her face but this time they are happy tears, glad to see her sister, to have her back on her side after two awful days.

Rooster seems to be rooted to the ground as the doctor finishes his check up and tells them to be careful.

Fire doesn’t waist a moment and rushes to her sister’s side taking her carefully into her arms and squeezing her hard.

“Never do that to me again, I was so afraid.”, Arrow murmurs soft sorry’s in her shoulder but Fire doesn’t care as she rocks them both.

“I’m glad you are here.”, she looks at her sister, who looks healthier than a few hours ago and Arrow smiles sweetly at her.

“I’m glad to have you here with me.”, Fire has to stop herself from crying at her sisters’ words. After another long hug she turns around and sees Rooster still looking at them like can’t believe it.

“I’ll go and tell the rest of the team that you woke up.”, she squeeze’s Arrows hand before leaving the room hoping that the two will talk.

“You’re alive.”, Arrow chuckles softly at his words and pats the space on her bed, which makes him move and sit down.

“I am.”, he lets out a deep breath before taking her in his arms.

“I was so scared.”, Arrow hugs him tighter and he feels himself relax at the feeling of her in his arms.

“I’m okay.”, Rooster stops hugging her to take her face in his hands and look at her.

“I shouldn’t have left you there, you-”, she puts her hands over his and he feels the warmth in them, reassuring him.

“I heard you, when you were talking to me.”, Rooster should feel embarrassed but as she looks at him with pure love and adoration, he can’t help but only feel love.

“I love you too Rooster, more than you know.”, he lets out a wet chuckle before taking her closer to him and kissing her softly. The kiss becomes deeper as she gets closer to him and Rooster can’t get enough of her, feeling her skin, knowing that she is here.

They break apart, needing air, looking at each other with love in each other’s eyes. Before a knock can be heard on the door and a shy Bob appears.

“Hopefully we aren’t interrupting something?”, Arrow shakes her head at the WSO and Rooster pouts before taking her hand into his.

“Are they naked Bobby?”, Bob blushes in embarrassment and shoots a glare at Hangman while the two love birds laugh at Hangman’s antics.

“You can come in.”, Rooster says loud enough to make everyone come in. The room is full of voices talking for the next two hours and Arrow finally feels at home.

The feeling of Roosters hand in hers and his bright smile, Fire talking with Maverick about Ice, Bob arguing with Hangman about a maneuver and the rest trying to talk over each other makes her feel safe, at home like she hasn’t felt for a long time, and she knows deep down that everything will be fine.

#top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster fanfic #rooster fanfiction #rooster x y/n #rooster x you

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extra-v1rgin · 5 months

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☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

Tanjiro knows everyone in his village. Despite his friendly nature and the admiration others have for him, the boy doesn’t have many true friends. His younger siblings are at the age where anyone within a year or two becomes a playmate. In the summer where trips to the village become more frequent they almost always tag along.

They run around while Tanjiro focuses on selling his goods. He’s often too busy to truly talk with those his own age. And while he doesn’t think badly of anyone, couldn’t even get one negative word out of his mouth, other children are focused on more frivolous things. Tanjiro is too busy taking care of his family.

Any downtime he does have is spent at home. It just falls in place that way. That time he spends playing with his siblings. Very rarely is he ever truly alone. Only when Takeo is sick or hurt and can’t join him chopping wood does he become truly solitary.

In the winter it’s quiet. Takeo is quiet but his feet still make the snow shuffle and crack beneath them. The scent of his brother standing nearby is often a comfortable reassurance too. Without him it smells like wet air. Only the occasional thump of Tanjiro’s axe against a tree breaks the silence.

He moves deeper into the forest as the sun rises. The boy isn’t due home for a few more hours and wants to find the best wood possible. Trees deeper within the grove tend to be stronger.

The scents moving around his body begin to thicken. Pine sap and damp earth float over his nose. If he focuses really hard he can detect hibernating creatures.

Thump. The axe hits the base of the tree again.

Behind him the scent of another animal arises. It’s vaguely unfamiliar, but not alarming enough to make him stop working.

Within a few strikes he manages to knock down the current target. The tree is a small thing, sturdy as it is. As the inside reveals itself it looks to be only a decade or two old.

Shrugging the basket off his back, Tanjiro begins to measure out lengths that will fit within the furnace.

So distracted by the task at hand he doesn’t notice the creature creeping up behind him until the stack of wood has been toppled over.

He’s met with the face of a boar, but the body of a man. It takes a few moments to realize the other boy is simply wearing a mask.

While Tanjiro is busy gawking at the newcomer, the boar-boy rushes towards him. Toppling over in the snow a warm chest crashes against his. Breath pushes against his neck.

“What’re you doin’ in my woods?” The words are clear despite the think layer of fur covering his mouth. There’s a gruffness to his voice, nearly a growl.

Tanjiro can’t manage to bring words forward at least the boy pressing down on him somewhat gently. His hands are still free, laying above his head.

Still shocked and staring, Tanjiro’s ear is tugged harshly. “Hey! Can’t you hear me?”

“Y-yea!” He tries to pry the hand off his soft skin.

“Then answer. You’re an intruder!” The red head’s ear is released, so a hand can squish Tanjiro’s cheeks together instead. “Tell me why you’ve invaded my territory.”

“Ish not ‘er land.” With his lips pressed tight he can hardly get any words out.

In further retaliation a fist smacks against his forehead. Of course Tanjiro isn’t hurt (in fact the small tug of his lips suggests the other boy might’ve bruised his hand slightly) but the action is still rather annoying.

“Who dares,” he roars, “Who dares to doubt Inosuke! I’m the king of the forest. This forest! You’re lower than a worm. You’re-“

Tanjiro drowned out the rest the insults. The boy, Inosuke, wasn’t really hurting him, but it was still rather annoying. The snow underneath was starting to sink into his clothes.

Pushing against Inosuke (who was still blabbering loudly about something) Tanjiro has to talk just as loud in hopes of being heard. “Well I’m sorry then! But me and my family have lived here for generations and I didn’t know there was any sort of king.” His tone was threateningly genuine, head cocking slightly to the side as he spoke.

It gave the other boy pause. His angry rant was cut off mid-sentence. “Well then you should introduce me! A king should know his subjects.”

Finally he rolls off of Tanjiro, straightening up. Brushing snow off his haori the boy offers a bright smile. “We should go back now then! My mother’s gotta know if we’re havin’ a guest.”

“Yea! Show me to yer cave minion!” Inosuke seems unbothered by the snow as it melts on his shoulders. Brushing some fingers through the fur on his mask he takes care of the snow there more than the white on his actual skin.

Tanjiro is trying to figure out how serious the other is about his harsh words. It pushes a light chuckle out of him. “I hope you don’t mind lotsa people though. I got 5 siblings! It can be hard to keep their names straight if you don’t know them, so I’ll wait to introduce you until we get there. Are you out here all alone?”

“Course not! I got all sorts of subjects. When yer a king it means everyone listen to you! All the mice and birds and shit do whatever you say.”

Tanjiro’s eyes widen. “Do they really? Oh- but you shouldn’t use such vulgar language around my siblings, they’re a lot younger than us. My mom might pinch your ears if you do.” He smiles wide. His mother can be quite a beast when it comes to keeping them in check.

Inosuke ignores his light admonishing. With his sight focused ahead he looks towards smoke rising in the distance. “Is that where you live? It’s a dumb place to build something. A monster could easily sneak up on you.”

“Oh w-well we don’t really have to worry about things like that.” The boy’s eyes have grown wide. “Do you deal with things like that?”

“Ha! I’ll tell you later, I’m sure you’re whole family will want to hear about my feats.” He puffs out his chest proudly. “I’ve traveled a long way y’know? I bet I know about all kinda of things you haven’t heard of.”

“Right! Well let’s hurry then. I bet my mom’s already finished cleaning.” When he starts running Inosuke outpaces him quickly. The winter air is too harsh against his lungs. With pink cheeks he arrives the front door. The other boy is banging on the door impatiently.

“Ah don’t be so loud! The little ones might still be sleeping. I can let you in myself.” He brushes past Inosuke to open the door.

Inside Nezuko waits just past the opening. “How come you’re making such a racket? Rokuta has been fussy all day and now he’s woken up again.”

“It wasn’t me! I brought a guest. He’s a boy I met while cutting wood in the forest.” Grabbing onto Inosuke’s hand he pulls the boar-man inside.

His friend stands there silently for now. It’s hard to tell where he’s looking or what he’s thinking when his eyes aren’t visible.

“Oh my!” Nezuko is shocked at his wild appearance. “W-why don’t you bring him inside? I’ll help mama with dinner since we have one more to cook for.”

The rest of the house has already noticed his presence. Hanako is pulling on her brother’s arm while they whisper about the “monster” inside.

“Is that really your head?” Shigeru seems horrified at the thought.

Inosuke cackles loudly. “Course not! This mask is a real boar.” To prove his point he proudly pulls is off his head.

Tanjiro is caught off guard. The boy is grinning, with pearly white teeth. His eyes are bright and triumphant. They’re also a beautiful green color, like the moss that grows in the spring. He’s never seen eyes so clear.

The rest of Inosuke’s face lines up perfectly with his eyes. High cheekbones flow into a small rounded chin. His pink lips are pouty even when he smiles. There’s a bit of pudginess that keeps his build from being too harsh.

“Brother brought a girl home!” Hanako immediately marches around the house, declaring the news.

Inosuke cries out, waving his hands in the air, “Who said that? Are you blind? I’m a boy dammit!”

The commotion only lasts for a minute or two. As soon as Inosuke looks like he may act, Kie steps into the room. Her natural state of calm takes immediate affect. Pale eyes, crinkling affectionately, focus on the boy. “Hi there, are you a friend of Tanjiro’s?” Kie’s soft voice is clear over the silence that has befallen the room.

Inosuke looks a little star struck in a way. He stays silent for a few seconds too long until Tanjiro gently pokes his side. He makes a barking sort of noise until he can form proper words. “I’m uh- I’m king of the mountain.” The boy can only muster up a fraction of his excitement from before.

“You must be awfully busy then. I’m glad you made time to visit.” She cups his cheek and smiles. It only last a second before she wipes her hand on her apron and pulls back. “Dinner will be ready soon, I hope you don’t mind the wait.”

When she disappears back into the kitchen the room has settled down. Some of the younger children run after Kie, chattering mindlessly and begging for attention. Nezuko follows her too, so she can help wrangle her siblings and make sure dinner actually gets done.

Tanjiro isn’t really sure what they’re supposed to do now so he gives Inosuke a tour of the house. It’s only four rooms total, with an outhouse right beside the wood storage, but has never felt too small. The living room takes up most of the space right at the entrance of the house. It works too as their dining room with a low table sitting in the middle. Around the floor there’s some stuffed dolls and wood blocks scattered. As they walk through the space Tanjiro picks up the discarded toys.

The pair only peeks into the bedroom. There’s futons lined up neatly in a row though usually they end up pushed together when somebody gets cold or frightened or just wants to be closer. He hadn’t considered if Inosuke would stay the night though that’d probably be the case. After dinner Tanjiro would look through the closet to find some of the nicer blankets.

As a guest he might want a bath too. The boy isn’t filthy but he is a bit dirty, particularly stray sticks and leaves getting caught in the fur that adorns his pants. Their bathroom is simply that, a tiny room that only has a small sliver of space to hold towels besides the tub.

Only the kitchen is left, which neither of the boys go into. The smell of cooking meat and steamed vegetables is starting to escape from the closed door. Inosuke gets a look on his face like he’s about to start drooling.

Tanjiro drags him down to the table and shortly after the majority of his younger siblings are kicked out of the kitchen. There’s still some lingering excitement from having a newcomer, prompting them to sit silently around the boy and listen to him talk.

He responds to any question with excited vigor. At the simplest prompting Inosuke is happy to go on a rant about his life. Tanjiro isn’t sure if everything he says is true. If it is he doesn’t know wether to be amazed or saddened. The boar-man proudly proclaims his animal lineage, patting the mask beside him. He lets Rokuta and Shigeru pet the coarse fur on the head covering.

The conversation flows easily until Nezuko comes in with the first tray of rice. The minute she sets it down Inosuke reaches a very dirty hand right into the bowl. Everyone shouts in a very comical way as he shoves the handful into his mouth.

Tanjiro is ready when he tries to gran another scoop. He interrupts the grabbing hand, and is quick to block the other as well. The boy is nothing if not persistent and they end up wrestling.

After Inosuke nearly topples the rice once more Tanjiro effectively has him pinned. “You have to wait until everyone’s ready to eat!”

“How come?! If it’s here now I should be able to have it.”

Hanako smacks his forehead and is quick to chime in. “Mama worked hard for this so you have to behave. We gotta make sure she can enjoy it too!”

After a few more wiggles Inosuke deflates under Tanjiro’s hold. Even after he’s released the boy stays limp on the ground. He doesn’t look up even when Nezuko brings out the rest of the meal, too busy grumbling.

It’s only when Kie comes in the calm the storm once more that he can be persuaded to sit back up. They have to show him how to clasp his hands together and give proper thanks.

Once he’s finally allowed to eat Inosuke goes right back to shoveling rice into his mouth. Crumbs scatter all over the table and floor. Tanjiro is stuck next to the guest while everyone else makes a wide berth around him. He doesn’t mind the mess or the fact that Inosuke steals half of his plate. It adds to his animal nature but in a cute puppy dog sort of way.

Dinner goes quickly. Perhaps it’s the new guest or how fast he eats the food. Everyone else talks like he’s not there. Which is fair considering anytime someone tries to direct a question towards him the boy answers with a mouthful. Some of his responses are vaguely intelligible, but only the short ones that have enough context to piece together.

Nezuko and Takeo always nod politely but the younger ones don’t know any better so they keep pestering him for the same answers. Hanako is just old enough to understand the flaws in Inosuke’s logic and points out each mistake in his tales.

Kie has to end things once more, prompting her children to focus on discussion amongst each other instead. She even cups Hanako’s face so she’ll stop staring at Inosuke.

Tanjiro expects him to leave a mess, after all there’s rice scattered within a good three feet radius of the table. He works like a vacuum somehow and doesn’t stop tearing at the food until the area is clean. It’s a bit of a miracle although there’s a chance Inosuke ate plently of grime tracked everywhere too. With his rugged appearance that doesn’t seem like it’ll hurt him however.

“Mama, can we do baths tonight?” Tanjiro’s already cleaning up his plates and chopsticks, collecting his friend’s as well. “It’s only a day early, and I want Inosuke-kun to have a good time here.”

“Of course. Why don’t you start fetching the water and I can help boil it. And I’m sure the rest of your siblings have already set up the futons for the night.” She says it with a pointed tone that sends every scrambling towards the bedroom.

Tanjiro laughs at their antics. Inosuke doesn’t seem privy to the intricacies of how a family speaks to each other. He has a wide-eyes look that only dissipates when Tanjiro offers out his hand.

The boar man puts him mask back on and is quick to rush outside. Tanjiro has to go through the motions of putting his scarf and overcoat back on. It takes a while to lace up his boots and by the time he’s outside Inosuke is covered in snow again from running around. The sun is just barely above the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything.

“Aren’t you cold out here with no shirt or anything? I can loan you something if you want.”

“No way! Shirts and people shit like that is way too uncomfortable. It’s dumb!” His voice drifts in and out as he shouts and scrambles around. With each wild step he kicks up snow.

Laughing lightly Tanjiro points east. “We’re going that way. Don’t worry, it’s just a short walk.”

“Course I knew that! I was checking the area for invaders.”

“Well in that case I’m grateful you’re here to help protect me.”

Inosuke flushes, he can only tell because it goes all the way down his neck.

It’s a short walk to the well, built specifically for their household. Tanjiro shows the boy how it works, who seems fascinated by how the water magically appears. Even when he explains that water lies at the bottom there’s no sign of understanding.

“Water comes from streams or ponds or lakes! If it were underground I’d know.”

Finding its best not to argue the other simply sighs. “I’m sure you’re right. Can you help me carry a bucket inside? It’ll go faster with both of us helping.”

Inosuke carries the buckets simply by their handles. He doesn’t complain of any soreness but Tanjiro knows they must be sore. He tries to show the boy how to balance them over his back with a staff, but Inosuke scoffs and lets the pole drop.

He runs back to the house, letting half the water spill in his haste. Tanjiro follows behind a much slower pace. When he gets inside there’s splatters of water all over the floor. He steps carefully around each puddle.

“Thank you Inosuke-kun, I’m glad you’re here to help out.” The boy basks in the attention. His face is covered but it’s not hard to tell he’s smiling.

As Tanjiro sets down the buckets Inosuke is already racing back out the door. It takes him longer in the kitchen, helping to tip the full buckets onto the stove.

Inosuke waits for him back at the well, but that just seems like it’s because he doesn’t know how to refill them. “Do your trick thingy again!” He cries. The boy is surprisingly patient while Tanjiro ties the bucket to the rope and carefully lowers it.

Again it comes up filled with clear cold water. Again the minute Inosuke has both baskets firmly in hand he runs off cackling. They cycle through the act a few times until Kie has enough to fill the bath.

“Whaddo we do now?” Inosuke stands in the middle of the bathroom.

“Oh well you do this part alone. Use the cloth and bucket to wipe off all the dirt and then you can soak for a bit.” There’s steam rising from the water. It’s sure to be a relaxing bath.

“And how do I do that?”

“You just… y’know scrub down with the rag.” He mimics the motion with his hand.

“Agh! Stay here and show me. You’re no good at talkin’.” The boy peels off his mask and fixes Tanjiro with a disgruntled stare.

He pauses briefly. There’s nothing odd about sharing a bath but the thought of sitting right next to Inosuke as they soak flusters him. “O-ok.”

It takes Tanjiro longer to undress. He has several layers that must be peeled off. Inosuke only needs to shuck off his loose pants and is finished. He squats on one of the stools and waits.

“Here turn around. Usually when people bathe together you’re supposed to wash each others backs. It’s supposed to help you bond.” Tanjiro drags another stool nearby and waits.

Inosuke seems paranoid about turning his back on the other boy. “Shit like this is stupid,” he declares. “I can get just as clean bathin’ in the river!”

Tanjiro hums as he dips the rag in lukewarm water and begins to scrub. “Don’t you get cold in the winter though? I can barely stand the ice even when I’m all wrapped up.”

“Ha! I got thick skin from livin’ in the moun’ins. I don’t get cold unless I wanna.”

“I’ve never heard of that, but then again I guess I’ve never met someone who really lived in the wilderness. There’s some hunters down in the village but they still return home often.”

“And that’s what makes me stronger than them. I bet I could beat up any of your phony moun’in men.”

Tipping his head back Tanjiro laughs lightly. “That’d be a sight to see. Here, you do my back now.” Both boys flip around.

“Ah- but don’t go too rough or anything.” It’s like he can already sense Inosuke’s clumsy hands.

“Course I won’t, ‘m not stupid!” Continuing to mutter under his breath the boy tries to mirror the way Tanjiro had scrubbed his back. It’s hard to tell if it’s working where there’s no dirt to actually scrub. He doesn’t understand the point of this but is still happy to participate.

Perhaps picking up on the poorly hidden nerves the redhead speaks again, “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? You’re really good at it.” It’s a partial truth, just enough honesty added so he doesn’t grimace at the thought of lying.

“I’m the best aren’t I? You’re probably the cleanest you’ve ever been right now.”

Tanjiro laughs. “That’d be impressive! If you’d like it’s probably fine for us to get in the bath now.”

Inosuke takes that as a sign to immediately drop his rag and climb in. It’s more of a jump though really, sending some waves that crash over the edges of the tub. “Ha, It’s hot! How’d that happen?” He waves his fingers under the water as if he can catch the heat.

The other boy steps in much slower. The warmth is a bit of a shock, especially after being in the cold all day. Immediately it paints his skin in a reddish tone. “It’s nice though right?”

“Mm it’s hot!” It’s not a confirmation either way but Inosuke seems pleased with the temperature. Soon enough his skin too is flushed.

Their pink knees touch in the small tub. Inosuke continues to splash around a bit while Tanjiro simply soaks. His eyes crinkle in amusement.

“And you do this every night?”

“Oh no! Only once or twice a week. Usually we just wash up briefly the rest of the time.”

“Huh, well if I hadda bath like this one I’d soak every night! You’re dumb for not doin’ that.”

“It’s a lot of work. I don’t like making mama do more than she has to.”

Inosuke nods in understanding. Even when simply mentioned he still seems rather entranced by Kie. “I’ll start doin’ it then. You can show me how you’re uh, tover works and let me use it to take hot baths every night… And I might let you join too sometimes.” He mumbles the last bit, looking down at his legs.

Tanjiro feels warmth spread within his chest, confusion clouds it though. “Tover? What’s that?”

“Y’know the- fire thingy on the table.”

“Stove?”

“That’s what I said! Stofe!”

The redhead laughs. “St-oh-vuh. Say it like that.”

“Stofe!”

Tanjiro opens his mouth wide, hoping it’ll make his pronunciation more clear. “Stove.”

Angered by the incessant nagging Inosuke’s hand slaps over the other boy’s mouth. “I’m saying it right! Stofe. Stofe stofe stofe!”

Trying a tactic often used on his siblings the boy licks the hand covering his lips. Usually the offender would jerk away and complain but Inosuke just grins.

“Ha, something that weak won’t bother me. You’ll have a try harder.”

Which he does. Tanjiro grabs the boy’s wrist and tries to wrench it off. It’s not surprise that it’s a hard task, looking at the muscles on him. Even with all his strength he can only peel back the fingers one at a time before they snap back over his face.

As their tussle gets more intense water is sent splashing over the sides of the tub. Tanjiro would’ve backed off long ago but Inosuke seems intent on covering his mouth even if the other seemingly gives up.

He rests for a moment before trying to give one last good attempt. Tanjiro springs upwards to grab at the boy. It’s a good jump that catches him off guard. As he settles on top of Inosuke the hand finally rips off his face.

The heat of the bath alongside the brief tussle leaves his chest heaving. They lean close together within the small tub. Inosuke is so close to him.

There’s a knock at the door. “Nee-san! I don’t wanna take a cold bath.” Takeo’s voice is muffled through the doorway. When there’s no response he knocks on the door, shouting louder, “Hurry up!”

Tanjiro sits back up. “We’re almost done.” Inosuke’s face is an even brighter red. They don’t acknowledge their closeness, just climbing out and pulling towels over their hips.

In a mixture of embarrassment and an unusual burst of anger (it’ll disappear in a moment) he rushes out the door quickly. “Be more patient,” he scolds. It’s spoken boldly but not in a yell. Though it’s the most outspoken he usually gets.

Instead of wilting Takeo just laughs. “Somebody wanted aloooone time.” Immediately after the rest of his siblings join in.

“Mama!” Tanjiro isn’t sure what else to do, he feels put on the spot. He shouldn’t be flustered but something grows inside his chest. “Mama they’re bugging the guest.”

“I’m not bugged!” Inosuke comes out with the towel barely clinging to him. It’s no surprise when it drops. Everyone squeals before running. It sets something off within him, some sort of predator instinct born from living in the wild, and the boy sets chase. Tanjiro has to then join the commotion, holding desperately to the towel around his waist.

It’s quite the sight when Kie finally does emerge from the bedroom.

#kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #inosuke #inosuke hashibira #tanjiro #tanjiro kamado #inotan #inosuke x tanjirou #tanjirou #non-slayer au

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jomiddlemarch · 22 days

Text

And thy mercy shall follow me

5. “He is worse,” Sugi said.

The maid spoke rarely, but observed keenly. An exemplary servant, she anticipated Mariko’s requests and Anjin’s needs, addressing them without comment, asking only those questions which were necessary. She had a tranquil demeanor which Mariko found restorative. In the few minutes Mariko had spent with Fuji, she had complimented Anjin’s consort for her choice of staff, and had received the pleasure of Fuji’s slight smile.

If Sugi chose to make a remark unbidden, her concerns were serious.

“Explain your reasoning,” she said.

“He wakes less often and when he does, he thinks he is somewhere else. He speaks mostly his barbarian language. He doesn’t eat, takes in only a little broth or tea. He’s growing too weak to bring up anything when he coughs,” Sugi said.

“He has a strong spirit,” Mariko replied.

Sugi was silent.

“He hates the priests,” Mariko said. To die without the Last Rites was a terrible end, but he would find no succor in the Latin prayers, the dark tonsure like a halo in his dimming vision.

“Would that hatred help him stay alive?” Sugi asked.

Mariko considered. There was a power in loathing, in spite. In the quest of vengeance. It was sinful, but there was so little to offer him. She thought of Anjin healthy, how curious he was and how animated when he spoke of his animosity. How quick he was to learn, how adamant in his purpose.

“I don’t believe so. His heart is not made in that way,” she said.

“Then perhaps you must pray for him. An easy passing if that is what he is fated to,” Sugi said.

I don’t want him to die, Mariko thought. She could not say that to the maid but she didn’t need to. Sugi knew. It did not take great discernment to see Mariko’s actions went beyond those governed by honor, by loyalty to Lord Toranaga, even beyond Christian charity.

“Tonight, I think, will be the crisis,” Mariko said. “I will stay with him. You may go. You have done more than you needed to.”

“With your permission, I will make a pallet in the room next to this one. I will be there if you have need of me,” Sugi said. Mariko nodded and Sugi left.

Anjin lay still for several hours. Mariko wet his lips with a cloth and tried to get him to swallow some water, stroking his throat, but she did not dare pour much between his parted lips and risk choking him. Mariko told herself that sleep would heal him, but he was in a stupor, not the refreshing rest that would restore him. Night fell and she lit only a single lamp, one within arm’s reach that cast a circle of light upon them both.

He grew restless as his fever climbed. She dabbed at his skin with a cloth to try and cool him, wished there was snow to pack around his feet and neck. She had never felt anyone burn so. He began to cry out, unintelligible words and phrases in English, her own name slurred, uttered as if he did not expect her to answer him. He trembled as one would when chilled to the bone, but she could not understand how he could want a coverlet given his temperature. He coughed and his breathing grew labored.

She knew he might not live to see the dawn.

She took the crucifix from around her neck and began with the rosary, because it soothed her and because she sought the intercession of a woman’s mercy. Ave Maria, gratia plenum, Dominus tecum…

With one hand, she rolled the beads of the necklace between her fingers, the words falling softly from her lips. She recited it once, twice, a third time. She stroked Anjin’s temple and bearded cheek with the other hand, hoping to calm him. She finished the prayer and held her breath.

He moaned, opened his eyes, struggled to focus on her face.

“John, I’m here,” she said, cupping his cheek. Drawing close, seeing him recognize her. Seeing how he wanted to speak and couldn’t find the words or the strength for them. “You are in the Lord’s hands. I am sorry I cannot pray with you in your tongue. Pater noster qui es in cælis…”

She spoke alone until nearly the end, when his voice, barely more than a whisper, followed hers. He must be reciting the prayer in English, words she could not learn. Could not forget.

“…thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever…”

“Don’t leave me,” he said, very softly. “Please, Mariko-sama.”

“I won’t leave you, John,” she replied. She let the crucifix fall into her lap and took hold of his hand with hers. “I will not let you go.”

She knew it was wrong but it was the truth.

#shogun 2024 #fx shogun #john blackthorne #toda mariko #john x mariko #mariko x john #hurt/comfort #angst #prayers #marikothorne #mariko makes a declaration

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greyfrey3 · 1 year

Text

Wolf tracks in the snow

[CW: mentions of blood, injuries]

A warning bell shrieked in Izuku’s ears as he stared down at the path in front of him. Pressed into the fresh layer of snow were several types of animal prints—rabbit, deer, snow leopard… at first glance, nothing out of the ordinary.

Those weren’t what made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck or his breaths come in short gasps. That was reserved for the heavy prints beside them, the ones belonging to a lone wolf.

They were easily the most massive Izuku had ever laid eyes on, as large as his own hand. The beast that had made them was easily three times the size of an average wolf, and based on how deep the impressions were, it weighed as much as Izuku, too.

Even more disturbing, the trail pointed in the direction of the village.

He was pulled out of his shocked state by a head butting against his thigh. Glancing down, Izuku wasn’t surprised to see his most stubborn ram preparing to slam against him again.

“Not now.” He gently shoved the creature away, urging it back to the others. The ram had taken a liking to him, shadowing the shepherd all day long and begging for attention. Soft spot or no, Izuku didn’t need it following him right now, not when it could put him or the rest of the flock in danger.

“There’s no way to tell when it passed through,” Izuku murmured quietly to himself. He was a shepherd who spent his days in solitude—talking to himself or the sheep he protected was commonplace. “Based on how the snow is falling, I’d guess not long… the village isn’t too far from here. It could be there by now.”

Wolves didn’t normally attack human settlements. Lone wolves were more unpredictable however, and one this big might be desperate for food. The smartest move would be to draw the flock away. They were the softer target, after all, with only Izuku and the dogs to protect them.

“The village isn’t too far from here,” he repeated softly, sliding the bow from his shoulder. He could see the smoke rising from behind the next hill, curling dark into the sky. “I should go warn them.”

He hated the idea of leaving his flock unprotected. But he was faster traveling alone, and they would be relatively safe here. In theory he could hurry to the village, alert them to the wolf’s presence, and return within the half hour.

Izuku let out a series of sharp whistles. He watched as his three sheepdogs herded the flock into a tight circle, taking up patrol around the perimeter. The flock was tired, more likely to stay put while he ran to the village.

“I’ll be back soon,” he called softly before setting off.

Izuku was no hunter slowly stalking his prey. He was a man on a mission, determined to reach the village quickly. Though he didn’t intend to follow the wolf tracks, he found himself doing so. That’s exactly where the animal was heading, following the same trail Izuku was on.

Thankfully, Izuku knew how to use his bow to fend off the occasional predator, which put him slightly at ease. Slightly. He’d never had to taken on something so big before.

“I won’t have to face it… probably,” he reminded himself. Still, his grip on his bow was so tight it made his hand ache.

Everything seemed straightforward at first, though terrifying. As he took the quickest path to the village, he was surprised to see the wolf tracks leading the way. His stomach climbed into his throat as the minutes passed. Every crunch in the snow made him flinch, anticipating the attack that would end him.

Then he spotted the blood… thick and red, lining one print. He stopped to stare at it for a moment before moving onto the next. More blood, bright and fresh.

Instinct told him the wolf was injured. That or it had snatched up a meal… except when Izuku searched, he didn’t find any other prints nearby.

“It’s still moving towards the village. A hurt animal is incredibly dangerous.”

Without a second thought, he sped up. Yes, if the beast was nearby—and it appeared to be considering how fresh the blood was—then he would alert it to his presence. But he had lived in that village once. His mother was born there. He’d rather risk himself than any of them.

“Aim for the eye or the heart,” he whispered softly, nocking an arrow. There were drag marks in the tracks now. They drifted as well, going one way for a few steps before straightening back out—as though the wolf was losing focus.

It was unnerving how fixed it was on its destination. Clearly, the beast was gravely injured. Why didn’t it slink off and lick its wounds? Why was it so focused on the village?

Then, suddenly, the tracks disappeared.

One moment, they were there. The next, they vanished. It was as though the wolf had suddenly sprouted wings.

Izuku paced around the last track for a moment, panicking. Did he miss it? Had it doubled back? His flock could be in danger! Sticking an arrow up in the snow, he used it as a center point as he widened his search. But it hardly seemed to matter, there were no wolf prints to be found.

He did discover a set of human ones… and whoever made them was walking through snow in bare feet.

A chill crawled up his spine, one that wasn’t caused by the icy breeze.

Izuku passed his days alone. He was used to the occasional odd sight or strange sound. He certainly never ruled out the possibility that there were things in this world that could not be explained. Still, that didn’t mean he was completely ready to face one of those things.

He followed the new set until he heard raspy breathing and saw the outline of a dark shape. Ahead of him, collapsed against a tree trunk, lay a person.

Shakily, Izuku started his approach, circling around so he wouldn’t be spied until he was within striking distance. Not that he intended to hurt anyone… He was just on edge, wildly unsettled, his pulse pounding in his ears.

As soon as he moved within sight, the figure’s head snapped up, tilting towards him. It took Izuku a moment to realize that he was scenting the air.

He’s not the wolf. He can’t be. That’s just… just…

The man was young, around Izuku’s age. And in a odd state of undress—it was as though his house had caught fire and he’d been forced to leave in a hurry, only bearing a thin shirt and well worn pair of pants. He had no shoes on, which made Izuku wince in sympathy. But the unfocused gaze, the trembling hand covering his ribs and the red that slipped between his fingers told Izuku there was another reason to sympathize with him.

“You’re hurt…”

A pair of bright red eyes flicked to his, the stranger’s upper lip curling into a snarl.

Izuku ignored that part of his brain that told him he needed to run, that instinctual voice that screamed ‘this is witchcraft!’. He’d always had a soft heart, and he’d never been able to stand seeing anyone injured… even if this man was really a wolf in disguise.

“Would you like my help?” he asked gently.

Those sharp eyes slid to his bow, narrowing dangerously. Immediately, Izuku slung it over his shoulder, holding his empty palms open.

“I can treat that,” he murmured, pointing towards the wound. “I’m a shepherd. I bandage cuts and scrapes all the time.”

No need to inform him that those wounds were typically self inflicted, a result of his clumsiness. Or that his hands were shaking so badly right now, he wasn’t sure how useful they would be.

He tried one final time, stopping just shy of him. “I won’t harm you.”

The only thing he could think of was that time Aizawa told him that when Izuku died, it would be because he did something stupid.

He wasn’t wrong. Izuku felt his face drain of color as he knelt down next to the man, forcing a smile onto it.

“You won’t harm me?” the man repeated, laughing dryly. His voice was as rough as pine bark. “As if you could.”

Izuku met his eyes, repressing a shiver. “Can I see the wound?”

“Do you know what I am?” he snapped.

“I’m not sure,” Izuku answered truthfully. Carefully, he reached towards the other man’s hand. When he wasn’t stopped immediately, Izuku took it as permission to continue. He uncovered the wound, examining it closely. “It looks as though you’ve been struck by an arrow.”

He must have removed it, too, as evidenced by the gaping wound left behind.

The man let out a grunt of agreement.

“I can help some, but it’ll need more than just a bandage, I’m afraid.” Izuku reached into the pouch on his waist, retrieving a small square cloth. “Is that why you were heading towards the village? To look for help?”

“I was heading towards that village to get my revenge. They were the ones who attacked me,” he snarled. “Damn humans. They all deserve to die!”

Izuku flinched, going quiet. He could sense how dangerous the other was, could hear it in the angry crackle of his voice. Like one of his sheep, his thoughts turned towards planning his escape. Exhaling deeply, he swept his nerves away.

In the face of a predator, the shepherd could show no fear.

“Is that so?” he asked mildly, pressing the clean cloth to the wound. “Lean forward, I need to wind this bandage around you now.”

“I ought to kill you, too.”

Izuku’s answer was more brave than he felt. “You can’t kill anyone in this state.”

“I can and I will.”

Izuku’s hands stilled. Calmly, he raised his gaze until their eyes locked. “I would stop you before you could. Even if it meant my life.”

And then something strange happened as Izuku tied the last knot, securing the wrap.

The man smirked.

“Or…” and Izuku could not believe he was about to say this; Aizawa was absolutely right about him. “You can give up for now and come back with me. I can help you get home.”

Was he really about to invite a wolf to come sleep among his flock?

The man arched a brow, his smile growing wider, incredulous. “Alright, shepherd.”

“It’s Izuku,” he replied automatically. “…And your name?”

“Katsuki.”

#bkdk winter au #bkdk #dkbk #bkdkbk

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haraways · 2 years

Text

SnowWolf

For @jonsaprompts Snow

This was originally a part of a much bigger story in which Sansa and Rickon are turned over to the Boltons earlier in the timeline, and the Boltons act as their wardens. Sansa runs away to the only place in the world she thinks they will not find her; beyond the wall.

There Jon was going to save her after she and Rickon have a run-in with a shadow cat; Ghost interfered and made that decision for Jon. It kinda’ of goes from there. In this, Jon was a Stark, and his mother ran away as well but died as well, so Jon does not know his heritage, but he knows his mother's name and that she was a lady. He was not raised by Mance. They find out much later, after they basically get married, who he is.

But that story will never be written by me, so here is the short bastardization of it. I'm so so sorry for grammar and spelling and shit; I'm so so tired.

SnowWolf

It was with great effort Jon hulled the deer onto the stretcher of branches. Without another hunter, he would be late getting back to the village, and his mother would have a fit, but she would be grateful for the week's worth of stew meat. It was worth the extra few hours away.

Lifting the end of the stretcher, Jon began his uphill walk home.

Across the moor and over a frozen river that Jon had never seen run, Jon walked on until night began to fall and snow began to swirl in anticipation of a storm. Jon felt foolish for not knowing the storm was upon him, and now the deer would freeze before a knife could even carve into it. The storm was likely to hit around sunset, only two short hours away. There was a small but dense forest between him and the village, and he could take shelter there on the edge before arriving in the morning. No Freefolk would wander into a storm unless they no longer wished to be a burden. Mind made up, Jon made haste, snow crunching under his feet.

The forest was dense, and Jon saw many branches littering the ground, perfect for a quick shelter. First, he found a thick tree with thick branches he could pass a rope over the haul up the deer, making it harder for animals to eat, not that Jon had seen any predators besides his own wolf lately. Likely fleeing as the Freefolk were, south? To the sea? It was difficult to say. After the hunters came back, the plan was the move South still until they came upon the Bridge of Skulls and Westwatch-by-the-Bridge. It was their best chance to cross the wall and away from the dead wraths.

Task done, Jon brought his hands to his mouth and let out a long, low howl. Even if he got no response, Ghost would come to him before night fell completely. Jon set out to find the lee of a thick tree. He picked up large branches on his search, trying to find those that were good enough for a shelter.

Through the quiet of the wood, Jon heard the tell tail sound of a beast lopping through snow headed his way. He was not worried. The beast leapt at him from behind some bramble, nearly causing him to drop his bundle of branches. With a yelp, Jon moved out of the way.

“Ghost!" Jon scolded before dropping his burden and embracing his friend. The great wolf had a red tint to his fur around his jaws. A hunt well spent it seemed. It had been two nights since Ghost had run off on his own, as wild things tend to do, and Jon had missed him.

The wolf bumped his head into Jons's stomach a few times before letting out a low-pitched whine. The noise startled Jon, as Ghost was aptly named, so little noise he makes even as a still-growing pup. Jon looked around them, feeling a stillness overtake the air.

“What is it?” he muttered to Ghost. Ghost did not answer him with another whine. Instead, he took up Jons's coat sleeve in his mouth and pulled. Jons's brow furrowed as he followed his wolf further into the thickest part of the quiet wood. This was…strange. Ghost did not act like this normally, and it put Jon on edge. Following Ghost, Jon pulled a long knife that sat on his lower back. He had not bothered to bring anything else.

Jon tried to stay quiet, but Ghost had no problem making noise to disturb that calm wood. They rounded a fallen tree when Jon spotted the reason for Ghost's behaviour. A bundle of fabric and fur was slumped against a tree, snow slowly piling up on it. A person, a possibly dead person. They would have to be burned lest they rise up for the army of the dead. It was little wonder Ghost brought him here, the smart wolf that he is. The fabrics and fur of the person were once rich looking but now bore the marks of the wild. Kneeler clothing Freefolk would not be caught dead in.

Ghost let a low whine at the person, butting his head against their shoulder gently. The person slowly raised their hand up from beneath the cloak to meet with Ghost’s broad neck. The hand was small and un-marred by toil and work, except the index finger and thumb.

Ghost sat down as the lady (because only kneeler ladies had hands like that) unbound herself from her cloak. The fabric shifted away and spread, and Jon could see the most brilliantly red hair spill from the hood, done in a loose braid. It reflected a glowed in the dying gry light. As she moved the fabric some more, the fabric exposed a small child sitting on her lap, curled as tightly as possible. The child was clenching at her chest as small ones do, not wanting to open his eyes to the cold world. He turned his face from the cold and let out a whine that could rival Ghosts.

The young woman had not noticed Jon yet, occupied as she was muttering to the wolf that towered over her. She showed no fear of Ghost as most would. Her other hand came up and clung to the back of the small boy.

“Rickon, my love,” She shook the boy slightly, “the SnowWolf has found us.” She muttered to him. Her voice was lower than Jon would have thought but non the less sweet. Her words were thickly accented, as most kneelers are, but she was a Northern Kneeler all the same. The little boy finally looked to the wolf at their side and gave an excited little giggle as Ghost's nose pressed into his ear.

“Did you bring us rabbit again?” the woman asked the wolf. Ghost betrayed Jons's presents by turning his head, the woman's head following. Her brilliant blue eyes winded, and she let out a gasp, clutching the child to her. She stood up clumsily, nearly tripping in her haste.

Jon dropped his knife in the snow and raised his hands. He did not want to startle the pretty woman, nor did he want to hurt her. He’d never seen a Kneeler this side of the wall that didn’t look like a Crow, let alone a lady. She stood with her back to the tree and took a step behind Ghost.

“Ghost, to me.” Ghost obeyed and trotted over to Jon, looking as though he’d done Jon a great service in finding the woman and child.

“He’s yours?” The little boy asked. Not looking at all sacred of the wild man.

“Rickon!” the pretty woman hissed.

“As much as a wolf can be to a person,” Jon answered honestly, Ghost liked to wander, sometime days at a time, but he was always with Jon when Jon needed him most. Ghost had been gone a total of three days this time. It was obvious that Ghost had been seeing this pretty woman and her child. Jon stepped forward.

“Please don’t hurt us,” the women pleased, knowing there was no way to outrun Jon. Her eyes kept shifting around, looking for an escape. She was making herself small, bending her knees and hunching her shoulders. The boy reacted to the woman’s words and frowned fiercely up at Jon. The woman's eyes stopped shifting and widened as Jon raised his hand up to her face.

She squeezed her eyes shut as though expecting a blow and flinched almost violently away as Jon’s hand rested gently on her cheek.

“I’m going to steal you,” he told the woman. She gasped at him, too surprised to be scared any longer. Jon knew he’d be stealing himself a Kneeler wife one day, and that kneeler wife would be useful once they crossed the wall and ran south. He was not expecting to find one so quickly and easily. But Jon noticed she clung the child closer to herself, and she did not seem to have any visible weapons. Jon frowned at this. It wouldn’t be a fair stealing if she weren’t armed.

“Once you get a knife on yah.” he stroked her cheek with his thumb one last time before reaching to the hand that was not holding up her child. He squeezed the hand before pulling her gently towards the bundle of sticks he had dropped.

The woman was still gasping at him as he picked up his fallen knife and replaced his hand in hers with it.

“Now, it's fair.” The woman looked down at the knife and back up at him, and she looked as though she did not believe him like he would snatch the knife away. He would do no such thing, but he knew that she would not believe him if he said he would not hurt them. He would simply have to show her. She was alone on this side of the wall, and he was surprised she had survived this long while also keeping her son alive.

“You,” She stared, voice lower now, not high with as much fear. “You can do as you wish with me.” She uttered before lifting her head and standing tall. Her eyes were vicious and fierce; predator eyes, the eyes of a wolf. She held up the knife to him, hand trembling.

“But you will not hurt him.” the boy was staring at his mother's face, eyes wide in awe. He raised his arms up and warped them around her neck in a tight hug, hiding his face away from Jon.

Jon let a little looped-sided smile spread across his face. Lady, this kneeler maybe, but her spirit was as fury as her hair.

Jon turned back to the woman, and she tried to take a step back, but Jon caught her wrist. He pulled her closer, drawing the tip to his neck. He could feel the blade dig in, but what was a little blood compared to gaining the trust of a fair lady?

“If I hurt you, or if anyone tries to hurt you or your son, you dig this knife right through their neck, right here, they will no longer be hurting you.” He squeezed her wrist one last time before letting go.

He turned around and began to walk back to where he wanted to make camp.

The women followed.

#jonsa #fanfiction #jonsa prompts #jonsaprompts #oneshot

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patheticbatman · 1 year

Text

Choose Your Own Adventure

Snow White - 04

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3

The Huntsman - “Please, princess, call me Stuart!” escorts you out of the castle for flower picking purposes. You, of course, must again kiss him a couple times before you go your separate ways, but you stomach through it all.

He leaves to find a deer heart, which he can fool Stepmother with and then disappear into the night. As much as you genuinely didn’t like this man, especially after all that convincing you had to do, you warned him of his possible death. You both agreed to meet back in this spot in six month’s time - you lied and said you were going to a cousin on your mother’s side for help.

You head off through the very nice path to the Dwarves home - the first time around, you had unfortunately gone the long way - and delight in seeing your forest friends young and alive again. To be honest, now that you were a queen and a princess regent, you didn’t get a lot of time to spend outside of the castle, so getting to play with animals was a rare activity.

Deciding to treat yourself, you a lot an entire afternoon to frolicking with the fawns, squirrels and other such adorable beasts. If all was truly the same as before, the Dwarves wouldn’t be home until late, and you didn’t intend to fall asleep in their beds again. So you spent the rest of the afternoon bounding across the meadows, climbing trees (you had brought britches this time) to get the juiciest fruit, and napping in the sun. You never burned but also never seemed to hold a tan, so it was quite comforting.

Once the sun started going down and you caught a slight chill, you escorted the little animals back to their dens and finally arrived at the Dwarves cottage. It was just as you remembered it, and you felt a deep comfort settle over your heart at the sight. Even through your toughest times, the Dwarves were such a good family to you.

And you rewarded them handsomely of course - you exclusively bought your gems from their mines, and helped set up the selling side of their business, both above and under ground. Their broker had been underpaying them for their stock, so you set that man straight and introduced them to better buyers.

Dopey, or D as he (now? In the future?) liked to be called, finally came into his own when he realized he liked making jewelry itself. He had an eye for detail when it was something he was really interested in, and enjoyed the craft immensely. He practically gave away a lot of rings (he was rich now, why not?) to many happy but poorer couples, and he made you a glorious ruby and diamond one for your wedding.

The rest were all happy too. Grumpy finally got a boyfriend, and changed his name to Grum, Doc quit work as a miner and became an academic (though he still helped out sometimes anyway) and the rest were semi-retired. Their children and niblings and young people they liked ran the business now, and they made a good percentage is the original owners.

Again, it was going to be a little bit of hell to redo all that over again, but oh well. As long as you didn’t have to do that a third time!

You set up a fire in their pit, and start laying out the food you brought. You weren’t going to break in, clean their house and then fall asleep on their beds this time, but you still needed to make a good first impression. So, a cooked meal it was!

After about an hour, just when the sun started setting, you look proudly upon the meal you made. Slightly spiced chicken (you found a couple plants on your walk here), with the citrons you foraged earlier on the side and a bit of mashed potatoes and bread you stole from the kitchen on the side. You wanted to eat now, but you waited until you heard “Hi ho!”.

Doc stopped when he saw you, and the others ran into him before they noticed too. He looked a bit frightened - Dwarf-Human relations were a bit iffy at this time - so you showed your hands to prove that you weren’t armed.

“Good evening to you all. My name is Snow,” - you didn’t want to make them feel like they had to help you because of your title, so you planned to tell them your full name in a couple days - “and I am looking for lodging for the next month. You all have a lovely house, and it is perfect for my purposes. Please excuse my forwardness, but would you allow me to stay here for a while? I can cook and clean, and pay a little.” You gesture to the food behind you. “And whatever your answer, you may keep the dinner, it is my apology gift for surprising you all.”

Sleepy, Dopey, Sneezy and Happy apparently didn’t need to hear anything more than that. They yelled, “Sure you can!” And then ran to the food, whooping for joy for finally having a hot meal waiting for them at home. Doc, Grumpy and to a lesser extent Bashful weren’t too sure.

Grumpy crossed his arms. “Why can’t you stay in the town? If you had time enough to cook food, you had time enough to get there before dark.”

“Indeed,” agreed Doc. “And what is a young woman such as yourself doing alone in the first at this hour? And how did you find our house?”

Before you could answer any of those questions, Bashful ran up, gave you a flower and ran away to the food. You had to stifle a laugh - at least last time he was able to talk to you!

You turn back to the two remaining Dwarves, who were clearly also eyeing the food. To save time and hunger pangs, you gave them short answers.

“I can’t stay in town because my Stepmother has basically kicked me out, and will rain hell upon any who help me. She is a powerful woman among the people,“ - they could interpret that as they wished, but it wouldn’t point straight to royalty - “and so I thought it would be best to stay out of town for some time. As for how I found your home, I stumbled across it years ago. Yours is the closest settlement to town, so I figured I’d ask you first, before trying somewhere farther.”

Doc laughed sadly. “Parents can be cruel sometimes. If your food is as good as it smells, and you can keep the house tidy and clean - it’s a bit of a mess right now - I don’t see why not. That sound alright to you, Grumpy?”

Grumpy harrumphed. “She isn’t getting my bed.”

“Oh, don’t worry yourself about that! I brought a bedroll.”

Grumpy harrumphed again, but brushed past you to the food. You supposed that was an answer.

Doc took your hand and patted it gently. “My name is Elias Thundergold, but everyone here calls me Doc because I enjoy reading. Let’s get you introduced to the crew.”

You all chatter companionably during the meal, and over the next couple days, they really warm up to you. You of course invite your animal friends to help you clean, and cook as much as possible. The bedroll isn’t bad, but Bashful, Doc and Happy must have noticed you walking around a bit gingerly, because they allowed you to borrow their beds for naps during the day. At the end of the first week, they hold a small party, and you end up dancing the night away.

After that, though, you cut off your hair. You asked the mirror before you left when Stepmother would ask about the fairest in the land again. Apparently, she didn’t think to ask again until a month later, but you wanted to be careful. The mirror told you that he based his ‘truths’ on Stepmother’s ideal of beauty, and advised you that going bald would make you ‘drop’ in her ranks.

Sleepy was kind enough to go into town and buy you some lovely print kerchiefs to tie over your head, but it felt so weird and a little saddening to have no hair.

After the party, you told the Dwarves the whole truth, even the part about going back in time. They believed you, as strange happenings such as this had happened before to dwarves of legend, and agreed to help you. Grumpy even carves you a bed of your own, and Bashful and Sneezy make you a nice mattress. You take the living room, and all in all it’s a nice arrangement.

In your free time, you disguise yourself and go to the library, and start researching successful revolutions - if you were going to depose your Stepmother, you were going to do it right.

And then you hear that the Queen is pregnant with the ‘True Heir’.

#Snow White #disney princesses #Snow White cyoa #Snow White Peggy Sue au #disney princess Peggy Sue au #I miss having baby goats around so that’s why SW gets to hang out with fawns :)#fawns are literally just goats if kids had enough leg to truly be spindly #I made myself hingry writing this lmao

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windfighter · 2 years

Text

Shot through the heart

”Are you done in there?” Kouichi called and knocked on the door.

Kouji stared into the mirror, looked at the pink scars on his chest. Touched his fingers to the round one over his heart. He took a shaky breath and wrapped the towel around his waist.

”Yeah, I’m coming.”

”They’re expecting us soon!” Kouichi said through the door.

Kouji pulled his fingers through his hair. He should probably brush it.

”Do you think I should cut my hair?” he asked.

”You don’t have time”, Kouichi answered.

”Geeze”, Kouji rolled his eyes. ”You’re acting like we’re going to miss the mating season of the cicadas.”

”...what?”

Kouji grabbed the brush on the sink and opened the door.

”Nevermind”, he said, ”forgot you don’t care about nature.”

Kouichi stared at him. Blinked. Kouji followed Kouichi’s gaze. The scar right over his heart. Kouichi lifted a hand to it.

”That one’s… new…” he said.

His voice was shaky. Kouji stepped to the side and looked away.

”Shot through the heart”, he said. ”Bullet got lodged in my spine.”

He turned around and gestured to a scar on his back. It wasn’t as bright as the one after the bullet and harder to spot inbetween all the other scars.

”They spent an hour trying to dig it out. Thought I’d get paralyzed for life.”

You should be dead, they had told him. Kouichi turned him around, looked at the scar over his heart again.

”Through… the heart.”

He looked at Kouji.

”You should be dead. How?”

”Weren’t we in a rush?” Kouji said with a forced laugh.

”Junpei and Izumi can wait.”

”You’re just jealous ’cause their kids like me better.”

”They only like you because of your fake leg”, Kouichi forced a smile.

”I’m the immortal pirate king”, Kouji said with a laugh and pushed Kouichi towards the bathroom. ”Go get ready.”

”I want to look at your journal”, Kouichi said and Kouji rolled his eyes again.

”Whatever makes you happy”, he answered and turned his back to Kouichi to head to the bedroom.

Kouichi closed the door. Kouji sank down on the bed and stared at his hands.

------

There was a loud bang, followed by pain. Kouji was slung backwards, his body skidded across the ground. Frenci screamed nearby, called his name. Kouji put a hand on his chest. Moist. He lifted the hand. Blood. A lot of blood. He let the hand fall down again. The pain was already subsiding.

So this is how death feels, he thought. He stared at the sky. Gray, filled with heavy clouds. Fitting, he guessed. He took deep breaths, hoped Frenci would help the family out of there, get away from the military. He always knew he’d die early, and hadn’t ever expected to live to fifty.

Life had been good to him, he assumed. He had seen a lot. Got stuck in a cave once or twice. Stepped on a very venomous snake. Saved the world. Saved people. Found his twin. Seen a lot of the animals on his bucket list.

He hadn’t seen a snow leopard yet though.

The military walked past him without sending him as much as a glance. He was just another casualty, another person they didn’t view as a human. Kouji held no adoration for any kind of military. If he had a pistol he’d use his last breaths to fire at them.

Perhaps, in some ways, he wasn’t any better than them.

He closed his eyes, waited for his heart to slow down and stop. He was tired, the loss of blood getting to him. He drifted off, the sound of gunshots echoed through the town.

Frenci was there, pressing their hands to Kouji’s chest. Kouji blinked and drifted off again. Frenci was always there when something went south. He was glad he was allowed to see Frenci one last time before death would drag him away completely.

Kouji was being carried through underground tunnels. There was barely any light. How was he still alive? He couldn’t move, couldn’t bring himself to try and speak. He closed his eyes again.

He was on his stomach. He could feel tools in his back, moving around and cutting through the muscles. His heart beat steady against his ribs. He tried to turn his head, see what they were doing and what was going on, but his head was stuck. Understandable, it was hard to operate on people who were moving around. He tried to relax. How hadn’t he died yet?

----

”You should be dead.”

Kouji pulled out a plastic jar from his backpack, stared at the bullet in it. He heard Kouichi get out of the bathroom. There wouldn’t be anything in Kouji’s medical journal about the bullet or the operation, he would have to explain the whole thing himself. He heard Kouichi’s steps come closer and stop in the doorway.

”I don’t know how I’m alive”, Kouji said.

He looked at the bullet, turned the jar around in his hand. Held it for Kouichi to look at.

”No one knows. It took half an hour before Frenci could get to me, even longer before I got to the doctors.”

Kouichi took the jar and held it up against the ceiling light. Looked at it as if it held the answers. Kouji looked at his hands.

”My heart never even stopped beating. I lost so much blood, but nothing happened.”

Kouichi gave the jar back to Kouji and sat down next to him. Kouji’s thigh protested when the prostethic didn’t quite move with the mattress and he closed one eye against the pain. Kouji laughed.

”Immortal pirate king”, he said.

”That’s just stories the kids are making up”, Kouichi said with a frown. ”Come with me to the hospital tomorrow, let me run some tests.”

”It was a month ago”, Kouji said and put the bullet away again. ”You won’t find anything.”

”I know, but… just to calm my nerves.”

Kouji sighed and patted Kouichi’s leg.

”Yeah, okay. I’ll do it for you.”

He hoped it would answer his own questions as well, but he didn’t want to admit that. He pulled the brush through his hair and smiled at Kouichi.

”We should probably get ready, or else Junpei might call the police.”

”Right, I’ll go get dressed. We leave in ten minutes.”

Kouichi stood up and left. Kouji took the bullet up again. He should be dead. Hopefully whatever tests Kouichi would be doing would give them some kind of answer to why he wasn’t.

#my writing #digimon frontier #kouichi kimura #kouji minamoto #implied junzumi #future fic #hurt kouji #tw blood #tw gunshot #me and jumper-zuzu has been talking about immortal kouji x3 #so I blame her for this story x3 #Future Kouji has been through a LOT of crap #most of it because of us #Kouji still doesn't have an apartment in Italy so he stays at Kouichi's or Takuya's place when he's there #He's welcome to stay at junzumi's place as well but while he likes the kids it gets a little too lively for him #♫ Shot through the heart and you're to blame. You give love a bad name ♫

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