#when will we have silver genuinely wielding a sword (i want him to hold a lightsaber)

[spindlebeforesunset]

As it is May the 4th in my timezone right now, I am once again (delusional) for a Star Wars themed event in TWST

#twisted wonderland #darth idia shroud when #also i still think it would be cute for ortho to wear a stormtrooper helmet as a little treat #listen i just want a lightsaber fight with ignihyde diasomnia and savanaclaw #when will we have silver genuinely wielding a sword (i want him to hold a lightsaber)

[monamourbladie]

The Man of My Dreams - Blade x Reader (chapter 4)

Who said that the man of your dreams couldn’t be real? After having dreams of the same mystery man for 2 weeks straight, the reader sets off on a journey to find the mystery man known as “Blade” that had been occupying her mind every single night. After realizing that he might actually be a real person, and not just a man she made up, she will finally discover parts of her past that had been long forgotten and locked away. (Originally posted on AO3, which can be read here. Also posted on Wattpad, which is here.)

Chapters Masterlist

warnings: slow burn, slight enemies to lovers themes, fluff, HEAVY angst throughout the entire story (not kidding.), soulmates, memory loss, mutual pining, eventual smut, pwp, renheng themes

"You have something on your mind - don't you, Blaide?" Kafka asked, leaning back in her seat as the Starskiff was being piloted remotely by Silver Wolf. Blade simply hummed in response, his eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest as he sat in his seat. "It's nothing," he replied simply. Kafka grinned, tilting her head to the side, "Doesn't seem like nothing. Are you anxious about the mission?" Blade shook his head no, letting out a light sigh. "It seriously is nothing, Kafka. It's just some dreams, that's all."

Kafka narrowed her eyes, wanting to learn more. "I didn't know you could still dream. You rarely speak of them." Blade looked up at her with an annoyed glance, "Of course I dream. What kind of comment is that?" he said with a snippy tone. Kafka let out a soft laugh, "I'm just trying to lighten the mood. Talk to me - I've missed you. What was in the dreams?" Blade scoffed, noticing his sword lying on the ground beside him. Kafka had managed to grab it from when he was arrested, keeping it safe until he could wield it once again. He picked it up and delicately dragged his fingers along the length of it. "It's of a woman."

This piqued Kafka's interest greatly. "It's always the same woman. She's in every dream of mine. It's almost as if we're connected in some way or another. We can hold conversations and remember previous ones, and pick up right where we left off as if she were real." Blade sighed when he saw his reflection in his sword. "I'm not used to such a sense of familiarity. It's beginning to feel... almost comforting, in a way," he added. "She visited me again last night. And for the first time, she told me her name. Y/n." Kafka could've sworn she saw Blade crack the faintest of a smile. "Aww... sweet little Bladie's got a crush," Kafka teased with a grin. Blade looked up and glared at her, "I do not have a crush on a woman from my dreams. Don't be ridiculous."

Kafka simply shrugged at him, her smile never leaving her lips. "I think it's sweet. You deserve some goodness when you sleep. I just assumed it was mostly memories and bad dreams." Blade scoffed, "It used to be. On the rare occasion I did not have a bad dream, there would always be someone there. I'm starting to think it might've been her there all along." Kafka let out a soft sigh, "That would certainly be interesting. Well, you said her name was Y/n, correct?" Blade nodded. "What does she look like? Perhaps I could speak with Elio, and find out more about this."

"I do not want the entire Hunters to know of my little dreamworld, Kafka. No," Blade said with a groan. Kafka crossed her arms, "Blade, you hardly get any genuine comfort these days. If this woman brings you the slightest bit of comfort, even if it's just while you sleep, I want to ensure you keep that. Just tell me about her. Who knows... maybe she's real?" she said to him. Blade rolled his eyes at the thought. A real woman that somehow was connected with his dreams? Yeah, right. "Sure. Let's say I humor this and she is real. Then what? I have to live with knowing she's out there somewhere and I have no idea where?" Kafka nodded, "Somewhat. Elio can help us locate her, certainly. So..." Kafka brought out her phone to write it down, "Speak up."

Blade grumbled, shaking his head as he laid the sword down beside him. "Fine." Blade began to describe Y/n. What she looked like, her hair, her eyes... even parts of her voice. Kafka couldn't help but smile seeing how much he remembered, and how gentle his voice sounded compared to normal. She wrote it all down and reminded herself to text Elio about this later. "I will speak to Elio about it once our job on the Luofu is finished, alright?" she said to Blade. He nodded, "As far as I'm concerned, it's not needed to be brought up to Elio. But fine." Blade crossed his arms, "Speaking of the mission... where do I fit into this?" 

The Starskiff docked, and Kafka and Blade began to exit it, grabbing their few belongings. "Elio has foreseen it all. It won't fail. Just follow my lead. For now... I have to be captured by the Divination Commission. Tonight, you will know the signal. Once you see it, you will come to the center, and rescue me. That is where the next phase of our mission begins. I just need to ensure that Stelle understands what we're doing here." Blade looked at Kafka with an irritated glance, "You can't possibly be still hung up on that... creation of yours," he replied. Kafka felt almost offended as she looked back at Blade, "That 'creation' is more important than you understand. It is vital that everything goes absolutely according to his will." Blade raised his hands in defense. "Fine. I just hope this will go by smoothly."

"It will..." Kafka replied, looking back at him with a smile. "Have faith."

The Trailblazers and Tingyun had met up again outside the Palace of Astrum and began discussing their move to locate Kafka. Tingyun had mentioned using a little creature called a Diting, which would help the group locate Kafka using her scent. The five set off throughout the Luofu, following the Diting as it worked its magic.

Y/n remained silent during most of the journey, which March immediately noticed. "Hey... are you sure everything's okay with you, Y/n?" March asked with a frown. She rest her hand on her shoulder as they walked. Y/n glanced back at March and nodded with a soft smile, "Yeah. Just... thinking. I spoke with the General for a little bit after he assigned us the mission. I told him about my dreams." March was intrigued and listened to her, nodding for her to continue, "Do you mind if I know what's in them? You barely went into details with Dan."

Y/n bit her lip, "Well, it's kind of embarrassing. But I have confirmation from the General that the Blade in my dreams is the one we're also looking for. Perfect, isn't it?" she scoffed. "Anyways, he and I have been in each other's dreams for a few weeks now. First I never saw his face. Then, only recently I saw him fully. And last night he told me his name. We've never been able to share anything personal with each other before. I guess maybe our 'bond' is strengthening or something, but that's what's been happening." March hummed in response. She was definitely surprised to hear about this, it was something extremely unique. "Well... I think It's kind of cool! Minus the whole being telepathically connected with a villain part, that sounds awesome! I wonder why you two are connected," she wondered. Y/n shrugged, "Hell if I knew. I wish I knew, anyway..." 

And damn him for being hot, she thought to herself.

"Hang on guys!" Tingyun spoke aloud at the front of the group. March and Y/n stopped talking and walked up closer to her, Welt, and Stelle. "The scent just... disappeared?" Welt frowned, kneeling down to the little Diting. "Did it break down?" he wondered. Tingyun shook her head, "No, he's still working just fine. But the scent just disappeared. Where did it go?" she muttered, looking around.

"When the trace of the hunted disappears, the hunter better think twice," a gravely female voice said aloud. The group turned around and saw a woman with purple hair lavishly dressed standing above them, with a haunting smirk across her lips. "It might just mean the tables have turned." Two Cloud-Knights stood beside her, holding their staffs firm. "Kafka!" March growled, glaring up at her. "These Cloud-Knights aren't Mara-Struck. What did you do to them?" Tingyun snapped, glaring at the woman. Kafka let out a soft chuckle, "Just a little persuasion to get them to listen to me. But you know all about that, don't you, Stelle?"

The group turned to look at Stelle, who just stood there in surprise. After a beat of silence, Kafka spoke up again, "This place is too far for the Diviner. I'll see you all up ahead." She turned away, the Knights following her as she waved to them goodbye. 

"No! After her!" Y/n yelled, and the group immediately began to chase after Kafka.

They ran for what felt like ages until finally they were met with the sneaky woman again. "Welcome, Astral Expressers. Looks like you caught me." Y/n glared up at her, "This was all a part of your plan, wasn't it?" she said to her. Kafka simply smiled at them.

"Admit it, Kafka. You planned for us to come here," Welt said, crossing his arms. She shook her head no, "I hadn't planned a single thing. It was simply the future. We interfere with countless possibilities, and this was simply the chosen path. You all speak too highly of us. The Stellaron Hunters are merely destiny's slaves."

"No matter," Welt began. "We're taking you to the General of the Luofu. You can profess your innocence there, but the General will decide your fate." Kafka laughed, her hand on her hip, "That's cute, but no. I can't stand moving at someone else's pace. We don't have much time now. If I were you? I'd make a move before it's too late." Kafka pulled out two guns, ready to use them. Immediately, everyone else pulled out their weapons, ready to fight her.

Before they could, a bright flash broke out above them. A woman dressed lavishly in pink descended upon them, standing between the group and the criminal. She looked at the woman with a frustrated gaze, "I am Fu Xuan of the Divination Commission. I'll be taking this criminal from here." March began to speak, but Welt raised his hand, "We've received an assignment from General Jing Yuan to arrest the Stellaron Hunter. Thank you, diviner, for coming to our aid; but we must escort the criminal." Fu Xuan crossed her arms, "This is unnecessary. I hold a proclamation from the General as well. Upon detaining the Stellaron Hunter, questioning and all further arrangements are to be done by the Divination Commission."

March giggled, "Did the General just spare us a walk with Kafka? I knew he was a good guy!" Welt let out a faint sigh, "I understand. However, he promised us that we would receive intel upon her capture. We have a right to know what Kafka reveals to you." Fu Xuan grumbled to herself and sighed. "Fine. You will accompany us to the Divination Commission. The time has come and we must leave immediately. Follow me." Fu Xuan waves her hands, and unbreakable cuffs materialize around Kafka's wrists. The group begins to depart and follow the Diviner.

Y/n begins to follow them when she feels a breeze brush against her skin. She looks around, confused as to where it came from since there was hardly any wind a moment ago. From far across the buildings, she saw a figure.

The figure's stature was that of a man, who wielded a long sword in his hand. He had long hair that flowed with the wind, and he seemed to be just standing there viewing what had just transpired. Y/n furrowed her brows as she looked at him, trying to figure out who he was. In the back of her mind, she felt a nagging feeling that she knew this man...

"Oh look! A pretty flower! Where'd this come from?" March commented, making Y/n lose her focus on the strange figure. She turned and saw March holding a spider lily. She felt her breath hitch when she saw the flower, and immediately turned back around to see the figure again. But, to her dismay, he was gone.

Was that Blade...?

#honkai star rail #hsr #blade #blade x reader #blade hsr #blade x reader hsr #yingxing #yingxing x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

[lubdubsworld]

A Tale Untold. ( Jungkook x Oc)

Historical Au! General Jungkook! x Princess Oc!

Warnings : Non con/ Dub con, Manipulation, violence.

Rated 18+

Summary : The King of Elvyra is proud of his empire and of his perfect family. But the truth behind his ascension, is a tale that remains untold.

“The palace is so beautifully maintained your Majesty. Truly, such opulent splendor …..” The envoy from the neighboring Kingdom stood slack jawed in the Grand Hall, staring around at the gleaming trophies, mounted shields and gold embossed portraits that decorated the walls.

The brocade curtains had been left open, tied together with silk braided ropes with jeweled hangings, the light from the late afternoon sun setting the whole place aglow. On ornate tables scattered across the large room, stood little treasures and trinkets that had been taken as bounty from successful military campaigns against smaller, weaker Kingdoms.

All of it a testament to the unchallenged power wielded by General Jeon Jungkook, the King of Elvyra. He was not like the other monarchs. He still commanded his army personally despite wearing the title of King.

Jeon Jungkook, who stood to my left, with his arm wrapped around my waist in a possessive grip that was just shy of painful.

“ You must thank my beautiful queen for that, I’m afraid, Sir Cha. She has been much occupied with setting the Hall and the Palace to rights after my ascension, and her efforts have paid off. Have they not, princess?” Jungkook whispered, turning around to brush soft lips against my ear and I felt physically sick.

The last endearment was a sneer. And insult. A reminder of what I was : a captive.

“Yes, my King.” I said softly, keeping my tone level. I wouldn’t dare act up in front of guests, because Jungkook’s punishments would be cruel and merciless. He would keep my sister away from me, or worse, he would forbid me from spending time with our oldest son.

Jihwan was only seven, but already he was being trained as the heir, spending hours on the training fields with his father and it took endless hours of begging and servicing Jungkook in his bed and out of it, for me to be allowed a scant few hours with the boy.

Jungkook drilled into his head the importance of power, the need to instill fear in his subordinates, raising him to be just as ruthless and cruel as he himself was and I had only those few stolen hours to speak to my son about the values that I had grown up with. My heart ached when I remembered the kind of monarch my own father had been : a kind, gentle man who loved his Kingdom. And my elder brother had been raised with morals , compassion and justice in his veins, only for Jeon Jungkook and his barbaric army to invade our home and destroy it all.

“Your beauty outshines all of this, my Queen.” A man simpered next to me and Jungkook’s eyes narrowed at him. I swallowed. Jungkook didn’t like others looking at what was his.

“The story of your ascension to the throne here, we would love to hear of it.” One of the women said and my breath caught in my lungs, Memories flooded my head, traumatizing and painful. My skin went hot and then icy cold and my husband laughed next to me.

“It was quite simple. I was offered the throne and the lovely daughter of the Kingdom, in return for saving them from ruin, was it not, my dear?”

Liar.

“I.. Yes.”

“Ruin? Was your kingdom is trouble, my Queen?” the woman asked.

~~~~~~

No. We were rich and thriving. Everyone was treated equal here. My parents ruled with a heart of gold and everyone was well fed and joyful. We held festivals every month, celebrated life and never deemed ill will to anyone else. We loved each other. The commonfolk dined with the royals in the courtyards and the King himself drank at the cavern down in the village. The oldest prince, my brother, he played with the boys in the village, taught them how to wield the sword and the bow and arrow and my sister and I… we spent our days in the meadows…. Making daisy chains and stealing kisses from the stable boys.

~~~~~

“ They were in desperate need of firm leadership. My father in law, may he rest in peace….he had a weak heart that gave out soon after our alliance. Her brother followed soon after leaving me no choice but to take over.” Jungkook’s voice held a note of genuine sympathy and I felt sick to my stomach.

~~~~~~~~

The sight of my father, kneeling in front of his throne, shackled and in chains. My mother on her knees, begging for mercy and Jungkook’s men held a dagger to her throat. My brother standing in front of me and my sister, arms spread wide as he stared right at General Jeon, refusing to kneel.

“What you’re doing goes against every law on earth, Jeon. The moment you attack a foe when he has his back turned you reveal yourself to be a coward.”

And Jungkook had laughed, loud and uncaring.

“And if I stab him through the heart when he’s right in front of me? What does that reveal?”

It had happened in a flash, the quick movement of his wrist, the flash of silver as he drew his weapon and then the sickening squelch of the blade as it sunk through skin and flesh. The hot wetness of my brother’s blood as it splattered all over my face, the dawning horror as I realized that he had run the sword right through my brother’s heart and the endless screams from my mother and sister as my brother died right in front of our eyes.

I had stood there, too stunned to scream watching the boy who had taught me how to walk bleeding to death in front of me and when I had looked up, Jungkook’s eyes had been trained on mine.

“Bring her here” He had said firmly, pointing right at me and my entire world had exploded in agony. I screamed in protest as his men grabbed me by the arm, yanking me forward with such force that my legs gave out, dragging over the rough stone floors as they pulled me to stand in front of the man who had invaded our home without remorse.

“General Jeon….” My father’s voice came from behind me , soft and yet firm. I could hear the grief and pain in the syllables, and I wondered how much my father must be aching at this moment. He had loved my brother with his whole heart “ We’ve offered to surrender, offered you the throne. Please. Spare my daughters and my wife. There is a summer palace at the edge of the kingdom . We will retire there and live our lives out in exile. Please… don’t hurt them. They are too young to understand what you’re doing.”

One of the men standing next to Jungkook stepped forward and I glanced at him, my eyes widening when I saw his face. He looked like an angel, pristine and flawless. And his gaze was trained on my sister . I felt my heart began to pound as he began making his way over to her.

“No!! No… Aline!!” I screamed and Jungkook’s hand shot out gripping my jaw and forcing my mouth closed.

“Hold your tongue, woman.” He whispered. “ My patience wears thin.” He glanced at my father and the smirk on his face grew bigger. “ I think that would be such a pity, your highness. A face like your daughter’s … it doesn’t belong in exile. It belongs on the throne…. does it not, princess?”

“Your daughters are beautiful , majesty. They deserve to have handsome, brave husbands, do they not?” the man who had gone to my sister called out, his fingers curled around her arm as he dragged her to the front and I felt my heart crack in two as Aline burst into loud, miserable tears.

“Lulu…. Lulu make him stop… tell him to let me go…” She whimpered , punching fruitless against the soldier’s armored chest and the man seemed amused as he stared at her.

“Please…she’s too young…” I begged, staring at Jungkook beseechingly. “ She’s only sixteen summers old… Please don’t hurt her…”

“Sixteen isn’t a child. She is old enough to bear one herself.” The man holding her snapped angrily and I stiffened.

“A fair enough point, Taehyung- ah…” Jungkook laughed “ but we’re not barbarians. Let her go for now.”

“What?” Taehyung growled. “ No. I want her. Jungkook I’ve never taken anything from any of the countless kingdoms we’ve ravaged but I want her.” He shook my sister like she was ragged doll and Aline looked catatonic with terror.

“Please , let her go, she’s shaking…” I begged , trying to yank my arms away from the men holding me and Jungkook growled.

“Shut your mouth or your father dies.” He snarled and I was too stricken, too distracted to register what he had said, too focused on my baby sister to listen.

“please Jungkook, don’t do this… She’s young and she’s scared….”

Jungkook’s snarl of rage made me go white as a sheet and I watched in horror as he pointed straight at my father with the sword that still dripped with my brother’s life blood.

“ Get rid of the old fool.” He roared and my heart ripped straight in two.

“NO!!!!!!!”

My loud cry did nothing to deter the men holding my father who showed not a moment of hesitation, raising their sword.

“Remember who you are, Iseul!!” My father said loudly and I turned my face away, closing my eyes as the sickening sound of the blade coming down rang through the place, my mother’s howl of agony following shortly after. I stared at the floor, going limp in the arms of the men holding me up, my body numb and throbbing in disbelief.

“Now look what you made me do.” Jungkook snapped. “ I was going to let the poor fool live, somewhere in the dungeons with your mother but your complete and utter disregard for my authority….it fills me with rage, Iseul.” He snapped.

I couldn’t breathe, my lungs constricting. They were dead. My father and brother, the only two men who had protected me and my sister all our lives, they were both dead. This man. No, not a man. A monster.

This cruel, heartless monster had butchered them in front of my eyes.

“Look at me.” He said suddenly, stepping in front of me.

I didn’t respond, keeping my gaze trained on the floor and his hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

“Look at me.” He said firmly. “ Come morning we will be wed. I will be your husband. You will belong to me. You will give me strong heirs and all of your wants and needs will be mine to fulfill. Do you understand what that means, Iseul?” He demanded.

I choked on a sob.

“Jungkook we need to get rid of the bodies. Give them a proper funeral at least.” Another man stepped out of the shadows and Jungkook sighed.

“Yes, hyung. Taehyung-ah… Why don’t we take our new brides to our chambers?” He smirked, “ I could do with some stress relief now that the hard part of this whole thing is done.”

“Took you long enough. Come here my pretty doll…” Taehyung grinned, dragging Aline away and I whimpered, stumbling to try and follow but Jungkook’s arm came around my waist squeezing tight.

“That’s her husband now. Think of it that way and it will hurt less. Your sister is married to a man who will love her , protect her and cherish her. He will give her nice strong children. What more do you want for her?”

I exhaled shakily, turning to him.

“ What do you know of love, you monster?” I whispered.

Jungkook hummed.

“Then how about this, my princess. Let me teach you what I know of pleasure, and you can teach me all about love.”

It was a lesson that I never forgot. A painful, humiliating excruciating lesson in his bed where he stripped of my clothes, my dignity and the last shreds of my honour.

I stared at the ceiling as he lay over me, the large expanse of his chest pinning me to the mattress, the slick drag of his member inside me making me ache and throb, his lips, pressing kisses against my throat.

“you smell like a flower garden, my angel. So pure and precious. Made for me, I see….” He whispered, hips pushing up against mine as he ducked into me with long, rough strokes.

I stayed still staring into nothing and he pinched my nipple, twisting the buds till I whimpered.

“Please…”

“please what?” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine, forcing me to stare into doe eyes that seemed to glitter like the clear sky on a spring night. What a beautiful monster.

“Please stop…” I whispered.

“Stop…” He laughed cruelly. He pulled out fully before slamming back in with more force. Pain lanced up my body. “ Now why would I do that?”

“Hurts…” I whispered, exhausted. My hands lay limp and tired next to my head, throbbing from trying to punch him countless times to no avail.

“Poor little love. It hurts because you aren’t used to it. I will do this often and well and soon, your body will know that I belong inside you. And then you will beg me to make it last longer… not stop.”

I closed my eyes, staring into my mind. Remember who you are? I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

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

“Of course, it was a pity that the royal blood came to an end that way. But some things can’t be helped.” Jungkook said firmly, arm still wrapped around me in a vice like grip. I glanced at the sun as it dipped lower in the sky. Was Jihwan done with the training? I wanted to see him. To hold him and remind myself that there was still some goodness in the world.

“But under your rule, the kingdom has thrived, your Majesty. So it was all for the best.” The man said brightly and Jungkook chuckled.

“That is true. Would you like to view the training grounds now?”

“If, I maybe excused?” I asked softly and Jungkook frowned.

“Is something the matter?”

“I feel a little unwell…” I said softly and the look on his face darkened.

But he didn’t protest, merely dipping his head lightly.

“Jihwan is in the west wing. He’s working on his scribing skills. You may visit him for a while and after our guests retire, I will fetch you from him.”

I bowed respectfully.

“Thank you, my King.”

~~~~~~~~

“Mother!!!” Jihwan’s loud cry rang through the hallway as he came barreling into my arms. I caught him too my chest, eyes stinging because soon he would be too old for me to hug and kiss and caress.

“My darling child, I’ve missed you..” I whispered.

“You saw me last night at dinner…” He laughed.

“And that is entirely too long ago.” I brushed the hair of his face. “ did you eat your meals? Have you been keeping yourself safe?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Auntie Aline and Uncle Tae bought me a new dagger.”

I felt my heart drop. A dagger?

“Darling, please be safe…Is it too sharp?”

“A little. But Uncle Tae told me I’m old enough to learn how to use it to fight.”

I closed my eyes, willing my self not to scream in frustration.

“Alright. But now unless your father is there to watch you, alright?” I whispered.

He nodded.

“Yes, mother. Mother…. “ He hesitated. “ Do Auntie Aline and Uncle Tae love each other?”

I blinked.

“What?”

“She looks so sad, sometimes.”

I bit my lips, willing myself to smile. Unlike me , my sister didn’t know how to put on an act. She had always been a delicate child and the trauma of our parents death and Taehyung’s cruelty had taken a toll on her. She was deeply depressed but her husband didn’t care. All Taehyung cared for was her body and the two sturdy sons she had borne him, a third child on the way.

“Of course darling. You do know, Han and Jiwoo are going to have a younger sibling soon? She must be tired from growing the baby inside her.”

“Will I have a sibling too?” He asked innocently and I opened my mouth to refute the idea when a shadow fell over us.

“Would you like one, my brave little tiger?” Jungkook’s voice rang over us and I stiffened.

“No.” I said swiftly, “ He enjoys having all of mama’s attention, don’t you darling?”

Jihwan wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t know. A little sister would feel nice.”

Jungkook hummed.

“I like the idea of that. If you give me a daughter then we can have her betrothed to Han at birth.” He said casually and I felt sick.

“Jihwan, you must go back to your lessons, now. Your mother and I will see you at dinner.” Jungkook said softly and I flinched when Jungkook gripped my shoulders tugging me away from my boy. Everyday Jihwan looked less and less upset at leaving me and I wondered if one day he would begin welcoming my departure.

Jungkook didn’t say a word, turning me around and leading me gently to the opposite wing, where our bedchamber lay. It was a path I traipsed a million times in the seven years we’d been married and yet, it felt just as unbearable as it had back then.

The sight of the King made the maids and footmen scramble away in a panic and I swallowed as he opened the large engraved doors , prompting me to go in. I stepped in only to have him press against my back at once. I stayed still, letting him untie the strings of my train, before moving to undo the button of my gown. He stopped halfway through.

“This is tedious. Strip for me and get on the bed.”

I didn’t move. What did he want? Surely he wouldn’t be thinking of humoring my son? The idea of bearing more children for him was abhorrent to me. I wanted to cry. But I did as he said, carefully stripping out of all my clothes ,m placing them in a neat pile, on the table nearby before moving to climb into the bed for him. Jungkook moved into sit against the headboard, before grabbing my wrists and pulling me to his lap.

“Look at me.” Jungkook said, once I sat straddling his thick thighs, the curve of my bottom resting against the hardness of his arousal. “ I was right, wasn’t I?”

I stared at him as his hands came up to pinch both of my nipples at the same time, playing with the hardened numbs till I began squirming on his hard length.

“ You were made for this weren’t you? To be my queen and my wife? Such a perfect mother too. I was right to choose you, wasn’t I?”

I stared at him, the handsome face that I wanted to hate., But it was hard. He had given me Jihwan. He had let me keep my sister at arm’s length. He had let my mother live out her years in the palace, although the grief had killed her two years ago. It could be worse, I told myself, lifting and moving to line the tip of his member against my body and sinking down on him. It could be so much worse.

“Fuck…yes. Just like that angel….” He gripped my waist, bucking up into me and my body caved, now used to the intrusion.

“Yes…” I choked out, when his thumb moved to press against my center, rubbing circles.

“I was right….I’m always right . Your body knows I belong inside you.”

He pulled me close, arms a vice around my body and I choked as he fucked into me .

“Say it… “ He demanded and I closed my eyes, sorrow and helplessness welling into tears and brimming over my eyes onto his shoulders and down his back. But Just as I was used to him inside me, Jungkook was used to the tears soaking him whenever we did this.

“Don’t stop.” I breathed.

The King after all was always right.

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

Author's Note : Would you guys like another part? But please tell me what you thought !!

#jungkook smut #bts jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere smut #bts smut #bts fic #jungkook fics #jungkook #bts scenarios #bts fics #bts fanfic #bts fanfics

[kodzukyan]

talking to the moon

notes: yoshiwara au featuring samurai!baji x courtesan!(fem)reader! some fluff? angst. tw death! song recommendation accompaniments: yoshiwara lament - teto kasane & talking to the moon - kream!

wc: 2.3k

summary: yoshiwara is not meant for love, but you think it's far too late for you when you meet baji keisuke.

For as long as you can remember, your world has been seen through the bars of the harimise. A display, a product, for hours you would merely sit there and hope someone buys you.

The endlessly same scenery: the temple up north, the colorful vibrancy of kimonos, the bridge that leads southwards. Yoshiwara is always the same hustle and bustle of the lively streets. A day of ethereal beauty and strategic deceit; a night of lust and hushed promises, a so-called love that dispels with the first rays of dawn.

Once upon a time, you wanted to be someone who blooms for one person only, to love unreservedly. A childish dream to be free, to love fiercely. But fate steals your freedom and leaves you in the embrace of men who look at you as just another woman who warms their beds. Each bleak night as you look wistfully beyond the faceless man above you, the moon and stars sparkle, despite your torment, almost as if it’s mocking you for being unable to shine as they do.

With each passing day as you stare at your dull reflection in the polished mirror, bitterness seeps into your hardened heart. As your lips become redder and redder with used paint, the light in your eyes becomes dimmer and dimmer with dull indifference.

As if Yoshiwara bears your profound grief, it’s raining tonight. On such a day, you encounter him under the deep veil of darkness. His navy kimono contrasts vividly against your crimson lips, and the rosy pink that dusts his blushing cheeks gently warms your heart. He’s adorable, you think, as he grumbles and his friend nudges him towards the birdcage. Your eyes meet his, and his friend laughs and jostles him again towards you.

“Sir, won’t you please purchase me?” you smile sweetly, softly.

“I -” he starts.

“He would love to!” a new voice injects. His enthusiastic friend with blonde highlights smiles wolfishly.

“Welcome, please come in.”

You escort him to a room upstairs as the rain pours outside. When he cautiously enters your room, it is nothing like you are used to. He stands there awkwardly and runs a hand through his long locks.

“Would you like to sit? Perhaps a drink first?” you politely ask as you pat to the spot next to you.

It catches you by surprise when you can see the grays in his eyes as he looks at you instead of past you. He sits gruffly beside you and starts promptly, “We don’t have to do anything.”

You tilt your head, not really sure how to naturally proceed from here. But you've merely learned to comply, to satisfy, so you nod affirmatively and agree politely.

“In that case, what would you like to do?” you ask softly.

In a night meant for lovers between the sheets, he tells you stories of his adventures under the moonlight. You learn his name is Baji Keisuke, and he’s a samurai serving his childhood friend and the young lord of the Sano family. The one who ushered him here is one of his dearest friends named Kazutora, and they’ve been together since they were little. He loves feeling the adrenaline in his blood when he fights and often feeds stray cats because he thinks they’re cute. He unintentionally made his mom cry once when he was younger, so he swears he will never make her cry again.

He has dazzling eyes that tell no lies and an enigmatical smile that illuminates your heart, especially when he flashes his sharp canines that strikingly resemble fangs in his boisterous mirth. Outside, the continuous rain slows to a drizzle before it promptly stops. In your heart, he ignites a small spark of attainable hope.

A free spirit that contrasts very deeply against your very being. Unlike a trapped bird, he flies through the unclouded skies and undoubtedly makes life his own. His hearty laugh and vibrant eyes gently remind you what it's like to have hope beyond these four walls, to dream of a life of consuming love. You smile softly as he makes wild gestures with his hands, and you feel every insistent beat of your heart fluttering, thundering as he smiles affectionately at you.

Over and over again, he returns and buys your time instead of your used body. Time and time again, he talks naturally to you like you are someone in this world and listens to you like you are still good enough to be heard. Like the sun that melts away the darkness in your heart, your days spark a little brighter when he’s nearby. Instead of staring bitterly at your reflection as you paint your lips, the girlish dream you abandoned returns back to you.

Love whispers in your ears and knocks on your heart.

"Will you return?" you ask softly into the luminous night when he visits again. Once, twice, countless times to where you think you know him enough to remember what it’s like to love again.

As soon as the night ends, he has to leave. He will soar into the skies beyond the scope of your vision, beyond realms of the world you can only dream of because he's meant for something grander.

Still, you yearn.

"Where else would I go?" he answers as his eyes meet yours.

He clasps his rough hand around yours, eyes earnest and heart genuine, as he brushes against your knuckles tenderly. A hand full of calluses and blood, a hand used to wield swords and destructive weapons, but he cradles your hand so gently, tenderly, fondly.

"I will always come back to you."

You breathe out a quivering breath. You’ve heard these careless words countless times before from many other men, but his affectionate eyes are constantly full of genuine promises and unmistakable sincerity. You know Yoshiwara is the land of foolish dreams and lies, that Yoshiwara is unmeant for lovers.

Yoshiwara is not meant for the undeniable truth that you are irrevocably in love with him.

Still, you hope. You want to believe him, so you trust. You trust him with your vulnerability; you trust him with your heart. Under the veil of the night with the moon as your sole witness, you cut off a strand of your hair.

"For safe-keeping," you tell him as you tie your hair around his pinky, "Until you safely return."

He blinks once, twice before he smiles radiantly, fangs glinting in the light. He tugs a strand of his hair out before he clumsily wraps it around your pinky.

“There is something important I have to take care of,” he starts hesitantly. His eyes are looking into the darkness of the night, and for a moment, you can see weariness cloud his eyes. You reach to cradle his cheek, and at your touch, he looks at you. He holds your hand and presses a soft kiss on your fingertips. Newly found resolve beams through the clouds of doubt in his eyes. “But after that… Will you come with me?”

You stare incredulity at him, wide eyes carefully looking into his promising ones. He squeezes your hand as he stares anxiously back at you. The world is silent, and all you see is his gray eyes that have been your silver lining since the very first day.

He can’t afford to buy you, you know, and the fear of the consequences of running away burrows into your heart. But he looks at you, clear and open, and Heaven is in his eyes. You squeeze his hand back and bring it towards your lips to place a tender kiss on his palm. You think you’re far too ruined to be this optimistic about it, to dream of happiness like this, but you grin and nod anyway.

“I would go anywhere if it’s with you,” you smile, eyes and words honest.

He instantly breaks into an infectious grin, and he hugs you in eager excitement. “Thank you. I’ll be back by the next full moon. Wait for me,” he whispers fiercely into your hair.

You nod again as you melt into his comforting embrace. The flutters of your heart bloom into warmth in your chest, and it feeds into your heating cheeks as you hold on to him. The moon that invariably seems to look down on you, the stars that always seem to twinkle in critical disappointment softens as the lights of dawn overtake the sky.

A new day, a new hope.

He holds his pinky up, your hair tied on and your heart in the palm of his hands, as he looks at you. When you meet his eyes, the first rays of light glows behind him. He looks beautiful, angelic, and he seems so ephemeral. You hook your pinky, with his hair tied around it, with his in hopes that these fleeting moments will last just a moment longer, that this will be more than just a dream when you wake up.

A lie, a promise, you’re not quite sure which it is.

(You hope it’s a promise. You want it to be a promise.)

So, you wait. Day after day, night after night, and all the moments in between. You miss him like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky, but he fuels a fire in your heart that keeps you warm on the nights he isn’t here. It hasn’t rained for a long time now, you think, as you glance at your pinky and sunshine fill your soul. During nights, you keep your promise close to your heart as you stare at the phases of the moon. Waxing and waning, but your heart holds steady as you dream of boisterous laughter and lively eyes.

On the day of the full moon, you wait anxiously as people pass by. You’re on high alert as your eyes eagerly scan the crowd for any signs of him - his navy blue kimono, his long hair, his hearty laughter. As the blue sky turns to brilliant orange before it fades into the darkness of the night, the crushing weight in your heart grows heavier and heavier before the numbing realization that he won’t come hits you.

When the full moon peaks in the unclouded sky, only silence surrounds you. You sit lifelessly in front of your mirror at the end of the night with the full moon as your sole company. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting here as you mindlessly keep brushing your hair.

The overbearing heaviness finally breaks your heart and breaches the dam that restrains your tears. You muffle your cries in your kimono because you should have known better, should have known that dreams are unmeant for someone like you. You glance wistfully at your pinky before you clutch it close to your shattered heart, and all the energy in your body just comes out as silent sobs. As you bury your face in your knees and hug yourself, each fond memory comes back and replays in your head.

A mistake. This is a terrible mistake because you know Yoshiwara is built of lies like these. But when you think of his sincere eyes, your heart breaks again. Baji Keisuke is many things, but he is rarely a liar. You want to believe in him, want to believe in the dream of a life with him beyond these walls.

Maybe it’s not this full moon, you tell yourself, but he will return one day. The next full moon, the one after that, and all these other ones after, you’ll keep waiting. You believe in him, believe in love, so you will hold on steadfastly, stubbornly, desperately because you don’t think your heart can handle it otherwise. 

In just another day of waiting in the similar scenery, you catch glimpses of a spark from the temple northwards. A new sight, but among the lively streets of just another busy day, it’s not a sight you focus on. The sparks are nice, though, you think as you suppress a giggle, because it reminds you of the fire in his eyes.

When it reaches dusk, the scorching winds blow from the northeast. The direction you watch him go from the confines of your birdcage, and when you still see the sparks, a foreboding feeling, a bad omen sinks into your heart as the sun falls.

The initial flare grows bigger and bigger until it bursts into a firestorm and begins swallowing the town. You run frantically alongside the chaotic crowd as the screams fill the air and fear fills your blood. You run, run, run until your legs are burning - from the fire? From fatigue? You’re not sure.

Your heart breaks with every step you take because death comes knocking. You keep holding on stubbornly because you still believe in your promise. But soon, your legs only carry you so far amongst the fleeting crowd and falling buildings and smoke fills your lungs and chokes you.

As fire devours you, you glance at the waxing moon. It ruthlessly tears through your skin and burns, burns, burns, but the pain of breaking your promise rips through your heart.

All you can think about are the moonlit nights under the same skies within the four walls you call home and the man you know as love. You think of his starry gray eyes and the promise you couldn’t keep, and you clutch your hand over your heart. Close, so, so close, but not quite another full moon yet. With sorry repeated on your cracked lips and lament in your anguished heart, your uncontrollable tears fall hopelessly.

(The news of the tragic death of a singular samurai, holding his bleeding hand to his heart, in the Battle of Valhalla never reaches you.

After all, fire travels faster than words.)

The deafening sound of crackling fire plays your requiem and ends the unfulfilled dream of love.

end notes: harimise is a viewing cage where courtesans were placed in, like products on display at shops. they sit there the whole day until someone buys them.

the act of cutting off your hair and tying it around someone's pinky is a lover's pact. basically, it's a vow of love between a courtesan and their customers, where they offer their hair, nails, and blood to seal the deal. it could be used to extort more money from the customer, but it could also just be a promise of love.

also fun fact: historically, yoshiwara did end up burning in a huge fire that originated in a temple! :")

#baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji angst #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #baji x you #baji keisuke x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers angst #i was working on another baji wip but then this took over LOL #one day we will have happy baji stories but today is not the day 😔 #but literally baji in his navy blue kimono/yukata and high ponytail plagues my mind #so here we are <3 #sometimes i write things #i hope this shows up in the tags lol #also i read somewhere that palm kisses mean i trust you #i hope hes not too ooc?? i feel like baji is awko taco when it comes to love tbh HAHAH

[marvel-and-mischief]

Purple Carnations

Part of my Floriography Series

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader   Words: 1700 Warnings: eating meat, preparing dead rabbits for eating, nudity but not sexual, a swear word Synopsis: You come across an angry stranger bathing in the river

Purple Carnations: capriciousness

💐

The setting sun could be seen through the thin gaps between the trees, casting shadows throughout the woods you were standing in. Birds were settling into their nests with their chicks and dogs were howling in the distance as you trod silently over roots and tried to stay clear of crisp leaves and twigs that would alert anyone, or anything, to your presence.

You fingered the bow in your hand, clenching and unclenching your hand around the wood and feeling the weight in preparation of its use. The few arrows in the quiver on your back slid against each other when you moved too quickly, it reminded you that you needed to make more after tonight.

The only other sound you could hear was that of the river running along the edge of the woods. The water was calm and you ventured closer in the hope that an animal was taking a drink. It would be an easy catch, you’d be able to get back home before the sky turned dark and the wolves began to roam the area. Luck was rarely on your side but what you saw was more than unlucky, it was downright cruel.

A man was bathing in the shallow end of the river, back facing you and his bottom half, fortunately, concealed underneath the water. You were unable to take your eyes off the silver scars that lined his skin and tense muscles that flexed under his movements. And his hands, they were scarily large as they carded through black, wet hair, and it brought you out of your embarrassing state when you thought of this man noticing you spying on him and using those hands in punishment.

You felt yourself flush and in your haste to quickly disappear unnoticed your foot caught on a wayward tree branch, causing you to squeak in surprise and reach out to steady yourself against a large rock.

“Hey you!” came an angry shout from the river and you knew you had been caught. You spun back around to see the man facing you, his teeth clenched and face twisted into a furious scowl. “You think you can spy on me you -“

“Spy on you?” you scoffed in retaliation, suddenly feeling brave in the face of a man that could definitely beat you in a physical fight. You pulled an arrow out of your quiver and notched it into your bow but kept the weapon lowered, a precaution incase he came towards you. You had the high ground and a weapon that could reach him from afar and that gave you the confidence to answer back. “You must think very highly of yourself, Sir, if you think I was spying on you.”

“Then what were you doing?” He eyed his clothes that sat in a bundle a few feet from where you stood. You caught a shine of silver in amongst the fabrics and you knew immediately that he wasn’t worried about his dignity, he was keeping an eye on the weapons concealed at the bottom of the pile.

“I am looking for my supper,” you wiggled the bow in your hand and gave him a look that said ‘isn’t it obvious?’, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“Says who? You?” he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest as if he only just realised he was naked in front of you.

“Yes, says me,” you huffed in frustration.

The man grumbled something under his breath but didn’t move.

“I saw some deer on my route here, a mile that way,” the man pointed in the opposite direction to which you came, “I will be gone by the time you get back.”

Part of you felt bad for making such a fuss about this stranger being here, you didn’t own these woods after all, but the other part of you knew that you couldn’t trust strangers travelling through the path you frequently used and was so close to your home.

You paused a little too long and the mans patience was wearing thin.

“Or you can stay here and continue to watch me bathe,” he growled, and you heard the underlying threat in his words: when I am finished here, I will fight you.

“If I see you again I will not hesitate to let my arrow fly towards you.”

“My knife will be in your back before you get the chance.”

You rolled your eyes at his quip, not willing to argue that an arrow can fly quicker than a knife or that you knew you were closer to his weapons than he was, and left to find your supper.

-

You hear his frustrated grunts before you see him. You crept closer to see the man you had stumbled upon in the river just the day before, struggling to light a fire. The sparks he was trying to create weren’t enough to light the kindling he’d bundled together in front of him, and the more he became annoyed the more he was hitting his thumb rather than the flint in his hand.

You noticed the dead rabbits at his feet and subconsciously licked your lips. Maybe you could both help each other out this night.

“Do you need a fire?” Your question had him pulling his sword from his belt and pointing it in your direction which was, fortunately, far enough away that he couldn’t hurt you with it.

“I am beginning to think you are not just a pain in my ass but also a bad omen,” the man lowered his sword slowly once he recognised who you were.

“I think this is rather good luck actually,” you countered with a small smirk. You crossed your arms and leaned against a tree just as a rumble of thunder sounded overhead.

“What do you want?”

“You have food, I have fire, we should work together to not go hungry another night.”

“No luck with the deer?”

You shook your head sadly. This man hadn’t been lying, when you reached the area he had told you about there was plenty of evidence of the animals having been there, but there had also been proof of people, other hunters that had gotten there first.

The man seemed to be thinking seriously on your offer, looking forlornly at the piece of flint and metal in his hand. Another crash of thunder had him making up his mind.

“We have a deal,” the man picked up his belongings, along with the rabbits, and motioned for you to lead the way.

“It is only fair you share what you caught in my part of the woods,” you failed to hide the humor in your tone but it had the desired effect. The man huffed next to you.

“I do not see anywhere that states these are your woods,” he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. The rabbits in his hand swung into your leg annoyingly, and you were sure he was doing it on purpose.

“What is your name?” you asked just as your cottage was coming into sight over the hill.

“Pero.”

You told him your name and walked the rest of the way in silence.

-

Your cottage was small, only one room with a bed in the corner and a fire that took up most of one wall. Baskets scattered the floor holding everything you had foraged from the woods, mushrooms and berries, plants for medicines, vegetables from your garden.

You headed straight to the fireplace to get it started but kept one eye on your new acquaintance as you got to work.

Pero was studying your little cottage from where he awkwardly stood by your door. With your foot you pushed a stool in front of the fire.

“Sit, get comfortable, ready the rabbits for the fire.”

You thought by giving his something useful to do he would feel more comfortable, and it worked for a while. He skinned the animals and placed them on the metal spit you passed to him and then hooked them over the fire.

“Why does your husband not hunt for you?”

The question took you by surprise. It was obvious you were the only person who lived in this cottage, the bed only big enough for one, hunting for your own food, and bringing him back to your cottage was more than enough confirmation that you were not married.

“Because he does not exist,” you replied bluntly.

Pero reached out to turn the rabbits around but said no more.

“Why does your wife not keep you in check?”

Pero’s dark eyes glared at you.

“She does not exist.”

You pretended to nod thoughtfully, only to receive a huff of laughter from your usually moody friend.

“You are not from this land.”

A thoughtful look crossed Pero’s features as he turned his attention back to the fire.

“I have not belonged to any land for a long time.”

There was a sadness to his tone that you couldn’t help but pity. You hid it well, you didn’t think he would appreciate pity from a stranger.

“Why are you here?”

“Looking for work. You ask a lot of questions.”

“You are the first person I have spoken to in months.”

You found yourself opening up to Pero over supper. He listened in genuine interest as you showed him the many plants you had found in the woods, telling him what each of them did for different ailments. He told you about someone he once knew who could wield a bow better than anyone. You argued with him then, promising to demonstrate what a great shot you were the next time you went hunting. However it went unspoken whether Pero would be sticking around to see that.

You were nervous to go to sleep that evening. Pero was your only friend in a long while and you had a feeling he would be gone by morning. Pero mistook your nerves for his presence in your home, so he crossed the room in a couple of strides and handed you his dagger.

“So you feel safe with me here,” he explained and moved to make himself comfortable in front of the door, covered in a blanket you had given to him.

Pero watched you lit up in the dying flames of the fire, a content smile on his lips as your breathing evened out and you fell asleep. He was undecided whether or not to leave before sunrise, but for now he would fall into the best nights sleep of his life.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @computeringturtle @anu-simps @bts17army

#Floriography Series #Pero #Pero Tovar #Tovar #Pero x Reader #Tovar x Reader #Pero Tovar x Reader #The Great Wall #Pedro Pascal

[lillywillow]

Paper Faces on Parade

Summary: A royal masquerade is being held with the purpose of finding you a husband, however, your heart is already being held by one man

 Word Count: 1457

 Square Filled: Royal AU

 Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

 Warnings: An assassination attempt

Written for @star-spangled-bingo

 From a young age, you were trained to take over the throne from your mother. You were taught everything from politics, to dancing, to sword fighting. Your mother wanted you to be fully prepared for anything a queen would be expected. When you came of age, she had been pushing you to find a husband, which was a royal requirement. Every potential suitor your mother set up ended the same way, a polite kiss on the hand and a broken promise to meet again. There was only one man you had in mind for your royal consort; your best friend and confidant; James Buchannan “Bucky” Barnes.

 Ever since you were children, the pair of you had been close. Bucky had trained to be in the knights and worked his way up from page to sergeant. He had taught you to wield a sword and ride a horse. Whenever you had dance lessons, you requested him as your partner. Every chance either of you had, you used it to be with each other. After he had lost his arm in the war, you spent every second you could by his side and went as far as to resource a mechanical one for him so he could resume his position.

 When your mother had announced that she was holding a royal ball with the sole purpose of you choosing a husband, there was no doubt in your mind who would be your choice by the end of the night.

The night of the ball had finally arrived, the night you had been partly dreading. It wasn’t that you hated these kinds of events per say, it was just that they were full of the same tedious characters you forced to mingle with. There were the clout chasers who were more interested in being seen with you than anything you actually had to say. Then there were the old blowhards who believed you should be seen, not heard and be grateful whatever man was chosen for you. In those cases you would oh so politely remind them that’s not the way your mother did it and you wouldn’t stand for it either.

 One of the things you did enjoy about these formal gatherings is seeing everyone in their finery. Fabrics shimmered and flashed and jewellery sparkled in the light. There was a certain magic about it, especially tonight with everyone wearing masks. Despite the fact their faces were hidden, it was easy to spot who was whom.

 Surrounded by a group of women was the inventor from the noble house of Stark. He was dressed in a metallic costume of gold and red, possibly one of his own creations.

 Then there was Countess Natasha Romanoff. Her dress was obsidian save for the silver stitching which was woven throughout the fabric like spider-webs. In her hand was a plain black mask on a stick which had the symbol of a red hourglass.

 You spotted one of the Asgardian princes in an emerald and gold costume with a feathered raven mask. He was speaking to Lady Wanda Maximoff. Her scarlet gown billowed around her like smoke, a lace butterfly mask daintily perched upon her face.

 You could see the Wakandan king in a traditionally carved African mask in the shape of a panther. He was wearing all black although there was something unusual about the fabric in the way it shimmered purple under the light.

 Throughout the night, you danced with many eligible bachelors. Some were sweet and genuine, others you found utterly droll but the one person you wanted to dance with eluded you.

 Eventually, you managed to sneak away to the veranda to steal a few minutes alone to yourself. You were enjoying the cool night air when you heard a voice behind you.

 “I thought I might find you here, princess.”

 Smiling, you turned around to face the person you had been longing to see all night. Bucky was clothed in all white with silver trimming, complete with a white wolf mask. You thought he looked rather dashing.

 “It was starting to get quite stuffy in there...”

 “Indeed,” he said, joining you and placing his hands on the veranda railing, his gloved fingers brushing against yours. “Have you danced with many tonight?”

 “Too many to count... none of them have reached my standards.”

 “You must have pretty high standards...”

 “That I do... in fact, I have already made my choice in who I want to make my consort.”

 “Is that so?”

 “It is... you may already know him. He’s tall, handsome, has beautiful blue eyes, he’s in the knights...”

 “I see... well I wish you and Steve a long and happy life together.” You playfully nudged him.

 “I think we both know who I’m referring to...”

 “I think I do too... but I’m afraid to let myself hope...” When Bucky heard you were supposed to be choosing the man you were going to marry, it broke his heart.

 “Then how about a dance?”

 “Shouldn’t I be the one to ask you?”

 “Do you want to dance with me or not?”

 “Yes, your highness,” his voice had a playful lilt to it. He offered his arm to you and escorted you to the ballroom floor as the music began.

 As you glided across the floor with Bucky, it felt like you were the only two people in the room amidst the swirling colours and glittering lights. There was no denying it. You were totally and hopelessly in love with each other. When the song ended, your lips moved closer to his but a voice interrupted you.

 “May I have this next dance, princess?” You turned to see a stranger fully clad in black with red tentacles embellished on the shirt and a mask in the form of a red skull. There was something about this man that sent chills down your spine, however, it was your duty to dance with every gentleman who asked. You knew almost everyone at this party but you couldn’t place him. He was clearly skilled at the waltz but his grip was tight and hurting you. Bucky watched his every move and stayed close by just in case.

 “I have been very anxious to meet you princess...”

 It all happened so fast. The stranger pulled a knife concealed in his belt and brought it down towards your heart. Bucky quickly ran over, managing to push you away and put himself between you and the assailant. The knife let out a sickening clink as it got stuck in the panels of Bucky’s arm. All you could do was stand there in shock, the palace guards rushing over to apprehend the attacker. The man tried to get away and in the scuffle, his mask clattered to the ground revealing his identity. It was Johan Schmitt, an enemy to the royal family and leader to a group of rebels. He screamed profanities and antiroyalist speech as he was dragged away to the dungeons to be dealt with later.

 “Are you alright, princess? Did he harm you at all?” a nearby servant asked. You shakily showed your bruised wrist and they ushered you to a doctor. You turned back to see Steve helping Bucky remove the knife from his shoulder.

 From that point on, the party was well and truly over.

...

 The following day, the palace was abuzz with gossip about the events that unfolded at the ball. There was only one thing on your mind. You went to your mother to let her know your decision.

 “Mother, I have made my choice... I want Sir James Buchannan Barnes as my consort.”

 “Are you sure you don’t have false feelings because he saved your life last night?”

 “No, Mother. I have been in love with Sir James since I was a teenager. He has proven himself worthy to be my partner time and time again, not just to me but to the kingdom. He is a knight of high status and by our laws; he is eligible for my hand. Nothing you can say or do will change my mind.”

 “This is your final answer?”

 “Yes, Mother.”

 “Then it is decided. I will make the appropriate arrangements. You may go.” You couldn’t stop smiling, having to stop yourself from running through the halls to go tell Bucky the good news.

 In the months that followed, you and Bucky were finally married. You finally got the man of your dreams and Bucky got the princess of his.

#ssb2021 #royal au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #Female reader #Princess #Knights #masquarade #queens #costumes #masks #Marvel #Marvel fic #Paper Faces on Parade #Royal Ball #assassination attempt #royal marriage

[corancoranthemagicalman]

@vencurial (it won’t let me tag you??) asked for some Jealousy, “he’s mine” and how could I not?? 5+1 (and I’ll eventually post all these drabbles to my AO3)

1.

The thing is, Jaskier does not get jealous. He evokes jealousy (spouses, betroths, etc, etc, the list really could go on, couldn’t it?) but he doesn’t get jealous. That is until Geralt, apparently. Geralt of Rivia instills many feelings in Jaskier, one of which is that green-eyed monster that is closely followed by the raging beast in his gut.

So when a busty barmaid with fair skin and red hair that falls perfectly over the swell of her large bosom proceeds to lean said bosom into Geralt’s arm, well, Jaskier becomes a jealous man.

He clears his throat, stage smile plastering across his face as he waltzes toward his lovely beau and the girl painted in red. “Hello!” He greets, happily leaning a palm on Geralt’s opposite shoulder as he reacher’s for the Witcher’s ale. “I see this tavern has some fair hands-on service, eh?” Jaskier teases, looking to Geralt. “You look tired from our far travels, though, Geralt. How about we retire for the evening?”

Geralt grunts, turning to face Jaskier with a silent expression save for the raise of his brow. Jaskier answers with a smirk, an unspoken promise of the hands-on service he can provide back up in their room. “Hmm,” those yellow eyes turn to his ale that is currently held in Jaskier’s hand. He snatches it from the bard before standing.

The Witcher is already pushing Jaskier bodily up the stairs as he looks over that large shoulder to catch the gaze of the barmaid. “He’s mine,” he mouthes the words to her.

2.

The thing is, Jaskier is apparently a jealous creature. He supposes that he should have expected it sooner. His heart has always fallen fast and hard. Now that it has spilled into the permanent fixture of his Witcher, why should he love any less deeply? So this time when it’s a young knight of Temeria trying to ask for sword practice, well, Jaskier has thrown around enough innuendos to know what that means.

“Geralt!” The bard shouts as he limps toward him, lute in hand. “I was wondering when we were going to be leaving? What Temeria has in beauty it lacks in action.” Jaskier pouts as he caresses the lute in his hold.

“Jaskier,” it’s almost a reprimand on his tongue, “you’re still not well enough for the trip.” Geralt’s eyes roamed over Jaskier’s figure, but not in that lovely and hungry way he knew so well.

Jaskier gaps for a moment. Huffing in indignation, Jaskier swings his lute to his back that way he can properly cross his arms. “Well, if I had known how to wield that bloody sword you had decided to throw at me, perhaps I could!”

It was almost a growl that escaped the Witcher’s lips. “You refuse all of my lessons.” Those golden eyes pierced Jaskier’s weak leg. “And now is not the time for swordplay.”

The bard chuckled a laugh, smirking. “I don’t need my legs to know how to play with a sword.” He allowed his eyebrows to dance across his features, purposefully ignoring the young man beside them.

“Jaskier,” came another warning from the Witcher, but the warning was short-lived as he sighed. “Come on, you stupid lark.”

While any other time, Jaskier might have resented the term of endearment, instead he kept his eyes to the young knight. A smirk of victory as if he had won that sword fight blossomed across his face. “He’s mine,” he mouths again.

This time it might be more of a whisper.

Either way, Geralt hears it.

Dammit.

3.

The thing is, Jaskier is fucking jealous. There’s a princess thrusting herself in dance upon Geralt unlike the barmaid or the knight ever had. Not only is it very unbecoming of the royalty, but it’s rather rude of her to throw herself at Jaskier’s Witcher. Still, he can’t exactly cut in so he keeps playing, strumming without his heart really being in it.

The band he’s playing with, the kingdom’s actual band that isn’t a famous bard invited, they seem to be invested in his plight. He tries to keep his eyes off Geralt lest he draws too much attention, but how can he not look at that man? Jaskier turns his attention elsewhere with force, playfully winks and sings stories about maidens and men, monsters and gold.

It’s when he’s switching songs that it happens. He looks up for a moment only to see the princess reaching for Geralt’s very well endowed self that he almost breaks the string on his precious lute. His eyes go wide and if his rage at the slight against his relationship was not enough, the genuine discomfort on Geralt’s face is enough to have him raise his voice.

“Excuse me, princess!” He shouts, the band behind him stopping and the dancers halting as he leaps from the stage, swinging his lute behind him as his steps quicken. “But I believe you’ve delighted yourself a bit too much this evening. How about you have a good sit, my lady?”

The princess guffaws for a moment, wine heavy on her breath. “E-xcuse you?” She begins before her brother, a handsome man and the soon to be king, comes to rest his hand on her elbow.

“Elise.” He speaks gently. “I think our guest is right. You’ve been dancing all night. Rest?”

“I dance!” She exclaimed, figure wobbling for a moment, “with whoever the fuck I want!” Princess Elise turned to face Geralt with a drunk-flushed face. “He likes my dancing.”

Jaskier feels himself bristle at Geralt’s defense that the Witcher does not even get to speak. “Perhaps your dancing, but not your roaming hands.” He points a finger, momentarily forgetting decorum. The prince seems more embarrassed than angry though, so small saving graces.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls. “Let’s go.” He commands them.

The bard wants to say more, but he can feel the tension in the room. Instead, he silently nods and follows Geralt out of the ballroom. He will not take a gig anywhere near here again.

This time, it doesn’t need to be said.

4.

The thing is, Jaskier thinks Geralt likes it when he gets jealous. Surely, it’s a very romantic notion. The idea of belonging. Jaskier can see the appeal in it. Perhaps not when he is the one blinded by jealousy and want, but he can see the appeal. Ideally.

This is not ideal.

An entire bloody fucking forest of nymphs with their hands everywhere is nowhere near ideal for Jaskier. Geralt, of course, is a very loyal man and does not reciprocate, but apparently, he is not above letting them touch. Their hands caress his arm, his bicep. One of them looks at his jaw with the tips of their fingers. Geralt is used to being observed, he was made after all. But this is different. They both know this is different.

Jaskier thinks, at first, Geralt is teasing him. Thinks maybe Jaskier is jealous that he too is not receiving this affection from the forest nymphs. But the thing is, Jaskier couldn’t give a shit about the forest nymphs. He would just like this perhaps consensual touching of his Witcher to stop right now thank you very much.

“Geralt?” Jaskier calls for him again. “I think I can hear Roach.” He curses internally at the terrible lie.

“I don’t hear her,” Geralt speaks truthfully and damn his Witcher hearing. He turns to look at the young nymphs (or perhaps old nymphs?) that worship his body like a love god. Oh, doesn’t Jaskier know that truth? But did they have to make it evident in their touching?

“Geralt,” Jaskier calls, this time his hands fall to his hips. “I don’t think we should spend the night, lest we stay forever?”

The Witcher grunts, shrugging his shoulders as he looks to the nymphs around him. “That’s a myth. Nymphs don’t-”

“I don’t care what they do, Geralt!” Jaskier shouts, throwing his hands in the air until he realizes who is surrounding him. He chuckles awkwardly, smile chagrin. “Not that you aren’t a lovely hosting party, really-” the bard begins to ramble before Geralt’s sigh cuts in.

Those large hands gently remove the reaching limbs and it seems that Geralt must swim through nymph to reach Jaskier. “We really must be going,” he tells the nymphs, or tree spirits, or whatever they are.

Jaskier raises his chin, nodding. “Yes, thank you.” He looks around them, nymphs growing agitated and dismayed as Geralt and Jaskier begin to step out of the clearing. “Uh, Geralt?”

Growling, the Witcher pulls his silver sword from his sheath, putting himself between the bard and the nymphs. “Run.” He ushers Jaskier with the command, but the bard can not help but pull Geralt with him.

“He’s mine!” He shouts as much as his exhausted body will allow as they run.

5.

The thing is, Jaskier needs Geralt. More than just a soft conversation over a bath might imply. Jaskier needs Geralt as in the other part of that very same conversation. As in the someone who wants Geralt. He wants and needs Geralt. More than his Witcher, but the forever love of his life. Even if Geralt does not want him or need him.

Geralt is still in Jaskier’s arms and the bard feels like cursing him. Cursing that stupid fucking Witcher who had taken his heart from the first. So carelessly fought. Too late had Geralt of Rivia finally realized he was not invincible, eh? Jaskier grits his teeth, eyes burning.

“He’s mine,” he sobs, “he’s mine. Don’t take him.” Jaskier cradles Geralt closer, feels the rain wash away the caked mud. “Please, if Destiny has brought me to him, don’t let Destiny take him. Gods, he is mine.”

The rain is not soothing. It is cold, and it makes Jaskier feel lonely even as Roach whinnies at his back. It’s not until a deep gasp for breath that shakes both Geralt and Jaskier that Jaskier feels warmth again.

This time, Jaskier does not need to say it for Geralt to know it.

+1.

The thing is, Jaskier apparently really loves when Geralt gets jealous. The Witcher is seething from the other side of the room, jaw ticking as he clenches his mug of ale. Jaskier winks, turning back to his playful conversation with one of several wanting suitors it seems.

He can’t really tell what they’re speaking about. It’s not that Jaskier doesn’t care entirely, he just has a greater game he’s playing. A game that only ends when those golden eyes burn so bright before stalking toward him. He grins, mouth full of teeth to match the bared canines of his White Wolf.

“The bard,” Geralt growls out and Jaskier is already standing, “is mine.”

#THIS GOT WAY LONGER THAN I INTENDED WHOOPS??? #I think you meant geraskier so that's what I wrote #geraskier #c writes #5+1 fic #no beta #this really helped my funk and I got distracted by it whoops

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness: I let you Die I

Summary: Diverging at the start of volume 4, Jaune reforges Pyrrha's weapons into a massive sword. He seeks revenge against the one who killed her, even if it costs him his life. With a different semblance, Limit Break, he will be the one to slay Cinder. FF7 Elements.

Cloud Strife is a character from Super Smash Brothers Ultimate for the Nintendo Switch and probably other things too. The comparisons between Jaune and Cloud are painfully obvious. So obvious, that this story is basically low hanging fruit.

This story picks up at the start of Volume 4 and continues with Jaune unlocking a different semblance, called Limit Break. You won’t need to know anything about Final Fantasy in general or VII in particular to read this story.

I think that’s everything so without further ado have some Lancaster stuff and nothing else.

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“There you go, son.” The horned smith heaved the heavy breastplate onto the counter before me. “It’s gonna be heavier than you’re used to, but you’ll thank me the next time you go up against a set of claws.” From the sound it made against the wood, I believed him.

I struggled briefly before conceding. The metal in front of me was a bit much to look at all at once. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t gotta say anything! Just put it on!” The smith turned towards the back and called over his shoulder. “I’ll go get the rest.”

“So... What are you waiting for?” Nora asked after only a moment had passed.

“Oh! Uh… Right.” I walked up to the counter and took the chest-plate I was wearing off. “Guess I was going to grow out of it eventually.” I set it on the counter.

I looked down. I’d traded my hoodie and jeans in for a blue cotton shirt that went up to my neck and a baggy set of black pants that went down to my boots. Mistral was honestly too hot with armor to put myself through my old hoodie, still had it, though. I still wore gloves, but I’d gotten new grey ones.

I was basically a new person.

“A sign of progress,” Ren agreed with me except he seemed genuine.

Well if Ren thinks so…

Progress. It was hard to argue that I wasn’t closer to being a huntsman now than I was before. The fact of being a huntsman and slaying monsters mattered dramatically less to me now, however.

I strapped the new piece to his chest. It fit snugly, no undue chafing at my joints was always nice. The new white with golden highlights looked good in contrast to my blue shirt. There was only one shoulder pauldron and I immediately strapped it to my left-hand side. I had found early on that no amount of lotion or baby powder could help with the constant rubbing of the metal over my fingers, so I’d taken to wearing thick finger-less gloves and developing callouses on the sides on my fingers. The gauntlets slid all the way up to my elbow. I stretched and flexed. They didn’t impede my range of motion and felt get this, comfortable.

“And we can’t have a huntsman without his weapon.” I looked up as the man set the newly forged shield and sword on the table. Qrow, Ruby’s uncle, had brought Miló and Akoúo̱ to me from the top of Beacon Tower when he’d found Ruby there.

Miló had been forged into my sword. It was longer now and broader, too, but not so big that I thought I couldn’t wield it. It was mostly white with the bronze trimmings and the deepest crimson of Milo had been turned around and spiraled into the dramatically longer handle and wider guard where it mixed with my own old blue and became a very dark, almost black purple.

Akoúo̱ had been melted down and added to my shield, much like its partner. The whole shield was more angular now. It was still symmetrical and was divided into two parts. It started off square before it tapered down to two separated triangular edges which left a narrow valley between them which ran only briefly before meeting white.

It was taller than before with the bronze of Akoúo̱ added mostly to the top and bottom and less to the sides. It would cover me better from ranged attacks. I’d found that without any range I would need some protection, so I was just free from a distance.

A gun was a great equalizer.

The taller shield had been Ruby’s idea, she pointed out how much my legs got shot at school a lot even before. Then she got the opportunity to do something about it and if you gave Ruby a cookie...

“Made all the modifications you asked for.” Yeah, my modifications. The shield and sword were linked together, forming a great cross shape. I reached out and held the shield in my hands, I strapped it to my left arm. It didn’t compact like it used too, but the sword still fit into the shield, I just had to carry the entire thing on my back now. I drew the sword from the sheath with a soft whisper. “That was some fine metal you brought me. Accents the white nicely. Where’d you get it from?”

I felt the new weight of the sword in my right hand. It felt uncomfortable but mostly because I was used to the old weight, not because I wasn’t strong enough. Time would change my preferences as I re-taught myself the muscle memory.

I was adjusting the memory rather than making new ones, so it shouldn’t take as long.

“From a friend.” I answered. The pommel was a bit longer than one would expect, long enough so that I could grip it comfortably in both hands with plenty of room to spare. I’d always found the amount of room to choke down and up on Crocea Mors to be lacking and when I’d mentioned it to Ruby, she flawless took it into the design.

I slid the sword into the shield until it clicked into place. Then I pulled the sword back and drew it with the shield. The shield folded over the sword and different sections of the shield began to slide over the length of weapon.

As I drew it, the motion it pulled parts of the shield with it, until I’d drawn a six-foot-long single edged broadsword. I brought the weapon around me and let my left-hand rest below my right.

It was heavy. Heavy enough that someone without aura couldn’t possibly have wielded it for more than few minutes, if that. I pulled my right hand back and extended my left, easily holding it with one hand. I let my fingers run down the edge gently.

“Well,” Nora demanded. “Is it or is it not also a gun.”

“I told you it wasn’t a gun every time you asked,” I insisted.

“So it doesn’t have another form.”

I shook my head and strapped the entire contraption to my back. “No, it doesn’t, it just has the two forms.” I reached over my head and drummed by fingers against the handle over my head. I felt confident I’d be able to draw either form quickly. Or if I failed to do so it wouldn’t be the sword’s fault or because of where it was.

I just couldn’t count myself out of things.

I’d have to practice sliding the shield onto my arm and back again to get the hang of it. 

I finally turned around and nearly bumped into Ruby. She scrunched up her face at the weapon behind me. Big silver eyes looking up at the weapon. “How does it feel? Do you like it?”

“Like it was made for me.” I rolled my wrists and flexed my forearms under the gauntlets again. “You’re a genius Ruby.”

“It’s so cool!”

I laughed a little. “You knew what it was going to look like.”

Ruby snorted before she covered her face. Turning slightly red. Generally more red. “Sure, on paper, it’s another thing to meet face to uh- face," she stammered.

“Face to face huh,” I smirked.

“Shut up. Stop looking at me.”

I audibly slapped my hands across my eyes and mouth and even though I was blind and mute she kicked me in the shin. 

“He cleans up alright." The smith smirked. “Don’t you think? Say, you kids sure you wouldn’t stick around? You’ve been good to this town.”

We'd run a few patrols and hunts for the city to work out a deal to pay for the new weapon. We'd stuck around a few weeks killing Grimm for the small village and running the occasional odd job besides. Even a mecha-shift weapon as simple as this one wasn’t cheap or fast to make.

Not well at least.

I opened my mouth and shut it, Ruby promised to hit me if I apologized for stalling them on it.

“Its not just some silly errand.”

She’d shoved a finger in my face, too.

“It’s important.”

Nora and Ren honestly didn’t seem to mind either not that I could always tell with Ren. It was like that with Ren.

Nora on the other hand couldn’t seem to hide that she seemed to have something to hide.

“Sorry, but we’ve got another mission-”

“-Make it to Haven Academy, no matter what!”

“We’ve heard the next village over has a working airship.”

The smith frowned. “No way to know for sure. Scroll signals were bad enough out here when Beacon Tower was still up. Haven’t heard from Shion village in a while.”

I looked at the village. Without global communication what would happen here? Could the kingdoms stay as they were?

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I was awake when Ruby opened the tent we shared. Whatever dream I was having slipped from me even as I tried to grab it.

I said nothing, even as Ruby half crawled, and half crouched around the tent. I wanted nothing more than to go back and ignore my shift.

It was slightly uncomfortable, then, when Ruby ignorantly tried to nudge me awake.

“Jaune," she whispered. “Jaune, wake up.”

“My shift?” I murmured back. I felt as much as I heard her nod in the dark. “Alright.”

I blinked forcefully until I’d wrung all the sleep from my eyes and rose from my sleeping bag. I maneuvered past Ruby. I stretched picked up my sword and added water to finish the process of waking up.

I waited in the dark while Ruby got comfortable and slunk back into her bed-bag. “It’s cold,” she moaned. I couldn’t completely stop myself from laughing. “I bet yours is warm.” She grabbed the edge of her cover and pulled it tight against her.

“Wear more layers.”

“Its not comfortable.”

“Put more covers on?”

I heard her move to ‘glare’ at me. It was like pitch a few feet from my eyes in the tent, though. “That’s not comfortable either.”

“Well what would make you comfortable.” I had to wonder. “This isn’t a hotel or Beacon. All you have here is me.”

“Ugh. You-I-“ I heard the sound of her rolling in her bag. “Ugh. Night Jaune.”

“Rest easy Rubes.”

Ah yes. Second to last shift.

It wasn’t so bad. When it became clear that first and last shift were most desirable, followed by second, it was intuitive that it was the shift for me.

Maybe it reminded me of me.

I stepped out of the tent into the absurdly early morning. The fact of the matter was that taking a shift as a huntsman was sort of subjective. Ren’s sense of danger was good, so he didn’t have to pay a lot of attention during his shift. He barely even had to be awake.

Which meant even a huntsman as mediocre as I was could still feel danger while training.

I held the broadsword out in two hands. First, I practiced my basic movements while holding the broadsword - attempting a few amateurish swings until I got a feel for the weight of it. The weight was a lot further forward than I was used to. I swept the blade in a wide arc and brought it back to neutral as quickly as I could.

I couldn’t help but grimace.

I was slow enough that I was seriously going to have to stand here and practice bringing the weight back around. I brought the weapon back into neutral and swung it again.

I practiced two different cross slashes until my arms burned. I had sweat running down my brow as I tried to control the tool. The weight really was enormous. It had to be heavier than Cardin’s Mace, even, and when I’d first arrived at Beacon I’d thought that thing was ridiculous.

When I brought that up to Ruby she just scoffed. She just reminded me that the weapon was still shorter and lighter than many such swords that I’d seen huntsmen smaller than myself use.

I rested against it and wiped my forehead. I’d need a drink if I kept this up. I groaned. I left my water in the tent. If I needed a drink, I’d have to gamble waking Ruby up.

Not worth.

I brought the broadsword around, the shield clicked into place around my arm and I drew the longsword out. I felt the new weight and changed my grip along the very long handle. It was light and easy to control compared to the broadsword form. My burning wrist were more than enough to handle it. The shield was easy to swing and large enough to hit something fairly hard with. I crouched down as though avoiding gun fire and mimicked peaking around the shield and made several wide jabs with the sword.

My arms throbbed with the motion, but we can’t all be winners and I was pretty determined to get a feel for the new weight.

Because people I like could die otherwise.

Pyrrha taught me a few forms to run through. Wide brutal swings followed by quick diagonal cuts before defensive posturing and foot-work. It didn’t sound like much compared to a real fight or even a practice match. It also really wasn’t. It was good cardio and weights, however, and it was familiarity with my weapon.

I mimed parrying with the tall shield before a thrust and two waist length sideways cuts with the sword.

Blocking with the shield was easy. Well easier than the small wrist movements required to block with the sword. Especially with the broadsword form, the last thing I wanted to do was commit to a block with any unnecessary movement. It was all in the wrists, small rotations that covered me just enough, or long enough for the shield to come around with the ‘ittle bastard.

I panted for breath, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from my eyes again. I really needed a drink. I had no choice, really. I turned back towards camp.

Maybe Ren left some water out?

The thing about that was it something I would do. Ren was careful and smart besides.

I blinked when I got near my tent, though, the water was out in the cool night air. I glanced at the tent and listened for Ruby’s soft breaths.

She was there alright. I picked the water up and took a drink.

I must have brought it out with me.

I shrugged and carried back with me, kicking my way through the camp fire and cinders.

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Birds flew, bees stung, and it hadn’t taken Ruby long to examine the new and improved weapon. Less than a day, in fact.

Ren was making breakfast over the campfire, eggs, cheese, beans and rice in a burrito. Ren, of course, unanimously had last shift for this very reason.

They were perfect.

When she asked to take a look at Crocea Mors 2.0, I handed it over and let the burrito and Ruby do their business without my interference.

“Well it is heavy,” Ruby murmured, it seemed like she was confessing some terrible sin and I had to restrain myself from chuckling at her. “At least heavier than it was before.” It was true. It weighed as much as Crocea Mors had before with the shield, plus Miló and Akoúo̱ and Pyrrha’s circlet and some of her armor. “Do you remember how to take apart and clean the mechanisms? I don’t remember everything about it.” Ruby admitted the last bit almost sheepishly. Like she was ashamed of having forgotten.

I choked on the precious food.

Ruby looked at me like I was being dramatic, but Nora mimed a heart attack and Ren reached out with the back of his hand like he was trying to take her temperature, so I felt not only justified, but moderate.

Ruby swatted his hand and turned her chin up at me.

“You did what?” I asked grinning.

Nora pointed at Ruby aggressively. “She’s an impostor.”

I managed to swallow. “They’re simple enough for me to understand so I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out again. I’ll show you later tonight, when we make camp.” I took another bite of burrito.

“We could also practice too, if you want," she offered.

I’d seen her fight and we'd occasionally sparred for Ms. Goodwitch at Beacon. She’d always tried to take it easy on me, she’d always won, though, super easily. She was faster than a sixteen-year-old had any right to be and swung her giant scythe around like it was nothing. She hit so hard so casually.

Her power made her spacing immaculate. She could rush her opponents down easily or escape to regroup at her leisure. She could totally control the pace of the battle, at least against me. She was a menace.

I nodded. “I’d be an idiot to say no.”

“It’s like some kind of fusion of swords now.” Nora looked the weapon over with Ruby who was pantomiming swings with the broadsword.

She’s already better than me with it.

I finished my food and set about helping Ren pack up. Leaving the girls to chat while they cleaned up.

I rolled up my sleeping bag and the tent and packed them together. I took my sword back from Ruby, trading her for her backpack. Ren and Nora joined us with their things at the road and we were off again.

Ruby walked with the map out in front of her, stretched between both hands. “So, the next town is… Uh-huh! Uh-huh…” She gave up. “We’re lost.”

“We’re not lost. The next town is Shion. My family used to visit all the time.”

“Oh, yeah! Don’t you have, like, four sisters.”

“I have a few of those, yeah.” I did my best to evade.

“Seven,” Ren helpfully pointed out with a subtle smirk. Thank you, Ren.

You fucking traitor.

Ruby just giggled beside me.

Nora had the sheer audacity to act like she was thinking, but I knew better. “Y’know, that actually explains a lot.”

I had to let out an enormous sigh, I had no ammunition and no defense. “Yeah.”

“So, what did you guys do there?”

I left the smirking Ren and Nora behind to step up next to Ruby. “Oh! All sorts of stuff!” I took the side of the map in one armored hand. “Over here is a great hiking trail, and over here is where we went camping all the time! I got my own tent because I was special.”

Ruby waited patiently for me to finish, somewhere between exasperated and amused.

“Also, so my sisters would stop braiding my hair.” I did.

“Didn’t like the look?”

“Yeah, they just kept doing pigtails, but personally I think I’m more of a ‘Warrior’s Wolf Tail’ kind of guy.”

“Isn’t that just a ponytail?”

“I’m not proud of a lot of things, Ruby.” I bragged. “But I can rock any haircut?”

Ruby stifled a snort. “Really, any haircut? I think that I cou-“

“Uh, guys?” Nora intruded.

“What-”

“Huh?”

I doubted we’d be able to rent an airship here.

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I was thinking about Shion. I had to decide, and they were looking at me to do it right here and now. They hadn’t asked yet, but they were thinking it. I could tell.

And not about Ren either, though his behavior was extremely erratic for what a Ren was.

It wasn’t like him, but Ren had never pushed me about anything, even when he’d been in the right to do so after initiation, so I can’t bear to bother him before he’s ready.

There was no communication. No one to let the village they had just left know that Shion was destroyed. Or the villages around that, for that matter, if they still existed.

“We have to head back then,” Nora asked. “But it took us days to get here. Can we afford to do that?”

Ren shook his head. “This isn’t about Lien. We have a moral imperative to let the area know about the destruction of this village. How they choose to handle it is their business.”

“Wait, don’t we need to let all the villages know,” Ruby pondered. “And what about the bandits and Grimm! We’re the best equipped deal with them!”

I stared hard at Ruby and when they finally all turned to look at me, I was still staring. I sighed.

I don’t even know if I can convince her to press on. Let alone if I should.

“We’ll set up camp here and wait, if there are any survivors they’ll have come out of hiding by then.” I hesitated. “Ruby if you ran there and back how fast could you spread the word to Gailong about Shion’s destruction?”

She hesitated. “I’m more for short distances than for long but uh…”

She’d still be faster than anyone else.

“I’d really need to rest afterwards, but maybe a few hours.”

Ruby was invaluable to their combat capabilities, if the bandits or Grimm struck again, we'd sorely miss her, even if we were able to win. The danger was everywhere not here, it seemed. Communication was just too slow.

I remember reading about what interstellar communication would have to be like and what old fashion communication was like. Experiencing it was miserable.

If Ruby got split up again from there, would I ever be able to find her?

Also if I sent her off alone and she got hurt I’d-

It must have shown on my face.

“I’ll be fast and safe.”

I was already shaking my head by the time she opened her mouth. It didn’t matter what she said. From the moment she left until she got back, I would have no way of knowing if the bandits had been waiting for us to do something like that or were just in that direction in general.

She’d be spending aura the whole time on speed and this whole thing assumed that she wouldn’t need to fight.

“Absolutely not,” I snapped. “We’re not splitting up.”

“Jaune I can do it.”

“You have to give me something beyond ‘I’ll be safe’ and ‘I can do it.’” I demanded. “Please.”

Her teasing glare completely absent, it was replaced by something cold and metallic. She would bow to my plan on how to help, but she wasn’t going to not help. It wasn’t in her nature.

“Where will we camp?” Nora wondered. Her left hand was gently touching the fabric of Ren’s sleeve. So small was the gesture that she barely manipulated the cloth.

“Here, in town.”

“You think we should?”

“Yes.” I did. I couldn’t bear the though of leaving survivors to die. Some child or infant could be tucked away and just waiting. “We’ll do some searching through the rubble.”

“Then what?” Ren demanded. “And if the Grimm and bandits come?”

“We have to destroy them.” I affirmed. “We’re the only ones who can possibly do so within any time frame that doesn’t feel like leaving people to die.” I waited for a beat for anyone of them to step in. “Then we’re going back to GaiLong tomorrow; all of us,” I insisted. “Together. from there we will search for the bandits and destroy them from GaiLong.”

Ren briefly considered it. “I’ll start searching, then.” He paced away quickly, Nora bounced to catch up with him.

Peer to peer communication with scrolls was good enough that we’d be able to contact each other from within the village ruins so I let him go.

“Jaune...” Ruby began. I looked down at where she stood beside me. I think she expected me to walk away like Ren did and I surprised her because she didn’t say anything else for an uncomfortably long time, or it seemed that way.

She managed to blurt out a, “thank you,” at the same time I said, “let’s start searching too,” and it turned into an unintelligible mess.

“What?” I wondered.

She shook her head. “Let’s go.”

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It was eerie, camping in the town square. By their very nature as search and rescue operations don’t try and hide at all, can’t, even. It set my teeth on edge, but it was necessary.

“We’ll be training a little too, but we’ll try and keep it down.” I let Ren know. He was scrapping some dinner together and some other meals. We'd found perishables that the bandits hadn’t bothered to take and would literally rot if we didn’t eat them.

Ruby had wondered if that made them better than the bandits but together the three of them convinced her otherwise.

From, “you can’t give it to anyone.”

To, “you can’t save it for later.”

And fervently, “all this in all these empty houses will be rat food if we don’t eat it now.”

She gave in but didn’t eat much.

She was stressed, they all were. Especially considering how far we just got set back in terms of our travel time. Money really wasn’t an issue. Huntsmen could make a living anywhere and with communication down…

With communication down the law of the land in most places was whatever the guy with the most fighting power said it was. Who were you going to call and how were you going to call them and what would they do by the time they finally arrived to do something, if they ever came at all?

Huntsmen will have even fewer problems making money anywhere. Perhaps too few.

I set another log on the campfire. There was a flare of sparks and the fire snapped a few times at me. I stared at them like the patterns they made would reveal something to me but there was nothing at all.

Nora was already turned away from the dim light in her sleeping bag. Ren being emotional had evidently exhausted her beyond her energy.

Ruby had found a clearing she liked as we’d set up camp and I followed her there now from the campsite. I hadn’t bothered to take my armor off at any point. I needed to get used to it and I’d do it by wearing it sixteen hours a day, more, probably.

“You’ll probably need a whole new fighting style, I mean, have you ever practiced with a broadsword?” She chatted as they walked.

“I haven’t but a sword is a sword.” What’s so hard to understand about swish-swish-stab? A lot, to be honest. “I’ll be able to figure it out.”

“I know some of my uncle’s moves.” Ruby continued. “Would they help?”

“I’m bad enough that they literally couldn’t make me worse.”

She looked like she wanted to hit me for that but couldn’t because she was about to hit me anyway.

I stared at her from the side, watching her lips move. She reached up while she was talking and brushed her short hair over her ear.

She was building up contained excitement like a diesel engine getting warmed up and I had to smile. Once she started talking it released like a wave and I found myself nodding and listening along as she carried on the better part of three conversations at once.

“A lot of his moves are horizontal, it’s hard to swing a sword that big upwards. The ground gets in the way. His most powerful attacks are usually ones that come downwards, though, using gravity. His weapon is different, you know?” I did, I was confident she’d told me, at least. I’d hear it again, though. "It’s a broadsword with a similar scale to yours but also turns into a scythe, and, unlike yours, it has a gun too.” She looked at me to make sure I was listening.

"It’s actually a lot more complicated than yours but you’ve always been simple.”

I agreed so, I nodded.

“I don’t mean simple like that. I mean simple like- well, you know.”

I did, so I nodded.

“But every person is like that, everybody is unique.”

“-what?”

“Weapon!” She corrected herself a tad-little loud. “Every weapon is like that.” She glanced at me.

She dared me to call her out.

I couldn’t possibly.

“I really don’t know much about fight with shields, though, I’m sorry I won’t be more help. But like I said, swing downwards instead of upwards and it’ll help.”

I grimaced. If I swung the broadsword down, I’d need to lift it up again. It seemed obvious but the thing was heavy now. I’d need to do it as little as possible to conserve energy.

I watched her spin away from me into the clearing.

It took me a second to realize she was waiting for me and I stepped opposite her and drew the broadsword from my back.

Ruby’s scythe extended and she reversed her grip on it, holding the weapon behind her back. I didn’t think for one second it was an opening. I couldn’t cross the distance between us before she would move.

Still, I knew if she were willing to spend ammunition on a sparring match, I would be the one forced to approach. In the spirit of that, I charged at her anyway.

I committed to an attack with Crocea Mors, swinging from my shoulder down at her. She danced out of the way, her footwork was tight and fast. She was able to stay just out of my range, dipping in to slice across my breastplate with her scythe before I could bring my weapon around again.

It was enough to buffet it me and I was encouraged further to back up when she rolled the sycthe around her body in an upwards diagonal arc.

It wasn’t where I wanted to be, backing up was so much worse than side stepping. On the back-foot your opponent could charge and stand and fight you.

Pyrrha had hammered that into me non-too gently. Sometimes she used her shield as the hammer.

Sometimes she hadn’t.

Ruby stepped with me, staying inside where I would feel comfortable with the sword.

I lashed out with my foot in a clumsy kick, balancing the sword’s weight with my own and all my armor on just one leg with little practice. The kick flat out missed and Ruby had the good grace not to laugh. She did catch the leg I was left standing on with her scythe and pull me off my feet.

I felt myself whirl through the air and land flat on my back.

“Sorry Jaune.” She smiled down at me sheepishly.

I got to my feet shaking my head. “I’ll get over it. I’m not afraid of looking like an idiot.” I leveled the broadsword at her. “I still have plenty of aura for you to beat out of me.”

She took that as a sign to continue and this time she rushed me.

I sidestepped lashing out with Crocea Mors into the space I had just occupied. It collided with Crescent Rose’s barrel with a heavy metallic clank. The weight was enough to stop Ruby’s momentum and she squealed as she strained against it and the noise she made was enough to distract me.

She retreated spinning the crescent behind her, before she reversed again, rotating once more towards me in whirlwind of red and steel.

“How are you not getting dizzy?”

She giggled at me for that like I was just being just so extra silly when I truly did want answers. It sometimes felt like I could barely stand up without my head spinning and here she was like a top.

I raised Crocea Mors and blocked the blade of Ruby’s scythe with a grunt. I turned my wrists to block her next attack when she came around the other side.

I like to say my efforts stopped her but really she just hit me three times anyway.

Her blade swept across my stomach, glancing off my armor. I threw out Crocea Mors to try and gain some space, but she simply stepped back then back in and hit me hard in the side of the head with the back of Crescent Rose.

I stumbled back but she was all over me sweeping her blade towards me and chipping away at my aura. I grunted lowering Crocea Mors to defend once again. I blocked then thrust my blade out and swung it upward, Ruby easily dodged the thrust but wasn’t ready for me to continue my assault. I rushed forward. She jumped, elegantly dodging the attack with her semblance.

She flowed to my right like water before she zipped to the left and seemed to hit me from behind as her scythe extended to a nearly impossible range. She threw me off balance, her scythe was a spinning blade of death that sunk deep into my aura, shredding away chunks of it. I stepped back like I was going to retreat but I whipped the blade out and I clipped her side.

She rolled with the attack to the ground to avoid me chasing her, but I had stopped.

The sword made meaty noise when it hit her, it was the first time I’d hit anybody or anything with it and I immediately regretted how hard I had swung it and that its first target was Ruby besides.

We were just training, and it wasn’t like she was out here swinging to hurt me. I winced slightly. She looked a little winded. Her hand dropped down a little. I shouldn’t just be throwing out haymakers at her.

Duh, Jaune, what a way to say thank you.

Her body shimmered with soft red light as she recovered, getting to her feet. I let her rise unassailed; in a real fight I’d be all over her; I wasn’t above hitting someone while they were down, after all, the world had no problems doing it to me, but this was just training.

“Are you alright.” I asked, my eyes roved her body, looking for any sign of injury. Her hand rose from where I had hit her, and she nodded.

I was sure Ruby could go toe to toe with nearly anyone, I’d seen her fight Yang and Pyrrha. But my sword weighed as much as either of them did, soaking wet in full gear. And unlike a potential Yang based weapon, Crocea Mors had all of that force condensed into a tight blade.

Ruby’s own weapon was spindly in comparison and for a moment I wasn’t totally sure that I wouldn’t crack her barrel in half if I came down really hard on it.

“I’m fine. That hurt, though, you’ve gotten stronger.”

“It's the new sword, it’s heavier,” I dismissed. “It’s easy to hit things hard with a giant sheet of metal.”

“Well, I’m sure that's true, too.”

I continued to look her over. I was thinking about her hit and run fighting style.

That old big kicker-why?

Why did she bother retreating when she was so strong? It wasn’t just a fighting style preference. I was beginning to suspect that she needed to. She needed to dodge rather than block and she couldn’t afford to tank hits like I could.

She wasn’t weak - it was impossible to think that, really. It was honestly weird to think about her as fragile, too, even with the evidence right in my face.

“How am I doing so far?” I managed between pants.

I decided I would give her a moment to catch her breath, if she needed it. It looked like I had knocked the wind out of her, even through her Aura.

“You need to move more, you stand too still.” It was familiar advice, and it brought me back to rooftop training sessions with another redhead. I changed tracks, not wanting to think about Pyrrha right now.

Thinking about Pyrrha only made me want to train. I wanted to train and fight until I was strong enough to kill Cinder.

It was fucking bullshit that Cinder got to walk around while I didn’t even get to bury Pyrrha. I shook my head, thoughts of revenge clearing. I had a long way to go until I could hold candle to the woman who killed my partner.

Besides I was training now, I couldn’t be more training than I currently was.

“Well it’s hard to keep up with you in terms of movement,” I deflected but made it clear I agreed. Standing rooted like a tree would only serve to cost me precious aura. Plus, now I had two sources telling me to get my ass in gear and move around the battlefield. Not that I’d ever ignored Pyrrha’s advice but sometimes lessons took a while to stick.

We started again. 

I slashed two wide arcs at Ruby, and she ducked under one and deflected the other. The large sword wasn’t cutting it for me right now, but the point was to train with the new form. My movements were telegraphed with the broadsword, much more so than with the bastard sword and the shield would also allow me to defend myself from her wild slashes better, but the point of training right now was to learn how to use the new length to my advantage. It was not necessarily to use the best weapon for the situation.

She hit me twice with Crescent Rose before I felt the blade swing around me. She traded places with it, swinging me and herself in a sort of orbit connected by her weapon. She brought me around in a wide arc before she used a tree to halt her moment and mine. I could only watch as Ruby effectively pulled the blade towards her and through my aura.

It clotheslined me hard into the ground and made a loud gonging noise as it her blade dinged off my freshly polished armor. I lay there on the ground with my chest flashed with soft golden light as my aura flickered. Ruby seemed to realize that I’d had enough and stepped back, folding her scythe behind her back as she did.

I tried to rub my chest through my armor for a moment before managing to puzzle together that it wasn’t helping. Even through the protection granted by my soul and armor it was enough to sting.

I sat up and just tried to focus on breathing.

Ruby sat down next to me. Plopping down in her skirt with practiced ease.

“Was it really okay to re-forge Pyrrha’s weapons like that?” Ruby asked. “I know I sort of talked you into this. I didn’t mean to make you do something you might regret.”

I understood the sentiment immediately, but this felt right.

“Her sword was in pieces and it would only have served as a reminder that she wasn’t actually invincible,” I began. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it. “And I’m sure that she would be fine with me using her shield to defend myself, too. And you know there’s going to be something satisfying about killing Cinder with a weapon reinforced with the one she broke.” I chuckled lightly at the thought.

“Well, I guess it’s okay, then?” She struggled to find something to say after that. “I’m sure you’re right.”

They sat quietly together in the forest lit by moonlight. It wasn’t a full moon, like the night before, but still plenty bright.

“Jaune…” She trailed off.

“Yeah?” I answered anyway, ignoring her hesitation.

“About Pyrrha…” She pressed on.

“What about her?” I could talk about her, with Ruby of all people, at least. I didn’t particularly want to, but I would.

“Did you and her ever…”

“No, we didn’t. I didn’t know until it was too late.”

“Oh.”

I realized my fingers were brushing my lips. The rough material of my gauntlets was nothing like Pyrrha’s lips and my fingers tasted like sweat and grime.

So soft.

I remembered the way she’d kissed me before she left. It had been desperate but with a certain finality. She’d known she was sending her valedictions to me at the time.

I’d known too.

“She was a really good friend.”

“The best.” I agreed readily. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“Would you have?” She grimaced looking pained. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know. Alright? I really have no idea. I don’t get to know.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Ruby slipped into silence and I watched her fight herself again for a long minute. “But she wouldn’t want you fighting Cinder.”

“Well of course not.” Hell, the last thing she’d done was push me into a locker and not give me the choice of dying with her. Which I wasn’t bitter about at all. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. So, I’m still going to.”

“But…” She trailed. Her concern was like a fire, it flickered out towards me but it there was nothing for it to catch onto.

“Hey look.” I pulled his sword over to where they sat. “You wanted to see how the mechanism works, right?” Anything for a change in subject, literally anything. It was weak but Ruby seemed to understand.

She just nodded and listened while I went over the weapon with her. I could tell that she remembered how the mechanism worked part of the way through his explanation, she’d helped design it, after all. She just needed the refresher, but that was it.

I explained all of it anyway.

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This is exactly how Jaune talks in my head.

-WG

#rwby #fanfic #motion sickness #pyrrha nikos #ruby rose #jaune arc #weiss schnee #nora valkyrie #lie ren #renora #vol4 #lancaster #jaune arc x weiss schnee #jaune arc x ruby rose #weiss schnee x ruby rose #whiteknight #war of the roses #white rose #limit break #ff7 #cloud strife #Aerith Gainsborough #cloud x aerith

[vampiregirl1797]

Hopeless: Chapter Six

Klaus Mikaelson x OC

GIF Not Mine

Click Here For Masterlist

‘I have a question.’ I said to Klaus when he finally joined Elijah and I in front of the house, where we had been waiting for at least twenty minutes.

 ‘Of course you do.’ Klaus rolled his eyes, loading the last of his things into the carriage.

 ‘Why are there only two horses?’ I asked, eyeing the beautiful creatures before us—Elijah was already sitting on a deep chestnut, while it’s companion, a stunning white mare remained without a rider.

 ‘Because you’re riding with me.’ Klaus said simply.

 ‘Why?’ I pressed, a little irritated, ‘I am perfectly capable of riding a horse on my own, thank you very much.’

 ‘I don’t doubt it love.’ Klaus smirked at my antics and stepped into my personal space, ‘but we only came with two and don’t have the time to commandeer another, so up you go.’ 

I opened my mouth to protest at his attitude but it snapped shut when he lifted me onto the horse in one swift movement. Klaus joined me after, sitting behind me. As if my back being flush against his chest wasn’t torture enough, I was encompassed with his scent and warmth when he leaned forward to take the reins. I don’t know how he managed it, but he always smelled intoxicating; the smell of the woods, rain and whiskey all rolled into one—it made my breath catch and made me want to bury my face into his chest and never leave. Definitely a normal reaction; I needed to calm down.

 It was going to be a long ride.

 Honestly, as soon as we started moving, it was a little easier not to be consumed by Klaus’ touch as I took in the sights around us. We were riding in front, with the carriage behind us and Elijah behind the carriage. It was incredible to see so many small villages when we passed vast fields, trees and flowers. It was breathtaking, even more so was watching the sunset; it was if we were racing toward it, desperately trying to catch it in time. When it was replaced with the moon, I felt my whole body completely relax and my eyes started to droop. We had been riding all day, without a rest, and surprisingly the slight rocking was therapeutic. I felt Klaus stiffen in surprise when I leaned my head back and rested it on his shoulder. He started to speak, but I was too far-gone to understand it.

 It took another two days of riding, including an eight-hour break for the horses, and us before we reached the house in England. Unsurprisingly it was even more extravagant than the last one and Klaus had ordered that I stay in his living quarters just like before. I’d settled in rather quickly, not finding the house to be vastly different from the last one, at least until I realised it had been a week since I had seen my family.

 As soon as I’d had the thought, my hand came up to my throat, fingering the silver locket that rested there. My mom and dad had gotten it for me for my sixteenth birthday, and I hadn’t taken it off since. I unfastened the chain from around my neck and opened it, smiling slightly at the pictures that rested there. One was of Jeremy, Elena and I and the other was Mom and Dad when they were graduating collage. My smile turned bittersweet as I stared at their faces, the prickling in my heart reminding me that the loss would always haunt me. But I shook that feeling away and refastened the locket around my neck. They would always be with me, no matter what, just not in the same way as before. I wiped the tears away from my cheeks and stood from the end of my bed, deciding I wanted some air. I made my way through the house and almost reached the front door when a strange sound made it’s way to my ears. It sounded like metal clanging and it was coming from outside. My curiosity got the better of me and, I pulled open the door and followed my ears, what I was met with shouldn’t have surprised me but it did.

 Klaus and Elijah were standing about ten feet away from the house and they were sword fighting. I almost couldn’t believe it—sometimes I forgot for a moment what century I was in, and moments like this slapped me in the face to remind me. I had no idea who was winning, but both of them were giving off an aura of strength and power in that moment.

 ‘It appears we’ve gained an audience.’ Elijah commented, amused.

 ‘It appears we have.’ Klaus’ eyes met mine for the briefest of moments, not breaking from his stride for even a second.

 ‘Are you doing this for practice or fun?’ I wondered, perching on a rock that rested close by.

 ‘Practice, mostly.’ Elijah said after he and Klaus shared a sad look that made me frown.

 ‘Well I want to fight the winner.’ I declared, cracking my knuckles, ‘so I can show you how it’s done.’

 Klaus released a genuine laugh that made my cheeky grin grow into a sincere smile. Elijah smiled too, but his amusement was much more restrained compared to his brother. It was both nice and strange to see Elijah have such clear affection and loyalty towards Klaus. I knew that in my time, he had worked with us because he believed his family to be buried at sea, though when Klaus had been on the brink of death he had admitted that wasn’t the case. That was when it hit me. The caskets—they were Klaus and Elijah’s family.

 ‘Have you ever wielded a sword before, love?’ Klaus’ teasing voice broke me out of my thoughts.

 ‘No, but how hard can it be?’ I shrugged, seeming more confident than I felt.

 Klaus and Elijah stopped fighting all together to fix me with incredulous stares; though it was clear Klaus was amused as well.

 ‘You’ve never wielded a sword and you think you can win in a fight against us?’ Klaus clarified.

 ‘Well… not realistically but I’m too stubborn for my own good.’ I smiled innocently.

 Klaus opened his mouth to reply, but one of his men joined us in the clearing.

 ‘Lord Klaus, Lord Elijah, the alpha of the werewolf pack that resides here has requested a meeting.’ Trevor said, his tone respectful.

 ‘Very well. Send him an invitation to dinner for this evening. I will go and prepare,’ Elijah told him, handing me his sword, ‘it appears Klaus is already engaged with an important matter.’

 Trevor looked confused, but didn’t question his words. I waited until they were both out of earshot before I spoke.

 ‘I don’t think I’ve even been called an important matter before,’ I snorted, standing from the rock and getting a feel of the sword in my hand. It was heavier than I was expecting, and I was sure that without my vampire strength I wouldn’t have been able to hold it upright for long.

 ‘Aptly said, if you ask me. You not being able to hold your own in a sword fight is a travesty that needs correcting immediately.’ Klaus smirked, gesturing for me to join him.

 ‘Okay, just to be clear I have no idea what I’m doing.’ I was starting to freak out a little now—I knew he couldn’t kill me, but that didn’t mean being stabbed wouldn’t hurt.

 ‘Relax, love.’ He smiled his dimpled smile that made my dead heart flutter, ‘I think you’ll find I’m an excellent teacher.’

 ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ I teased. We shared a grin before his expression turned serious.

 ‘The most important thing is to never take your eyes off your opponent. Their actions and movements can tell you their next move before they’ve even thought about taking it.’

 ‘Got it.’ I nodded.

 ‘Next, the sword isn’t an object that you are using. The best sword fighters think of their weapon as a part of them, an extension of their own arm.’ Klaus said, his voice seeped with power and confidence; it was impossible not to listen to every word he said with rapt attention.

 ‘Okay.’ I frowned a little, not sure about that; how was I supposed to think of a sword in that way?

 He smiled a little, ‘you’ll get it. The final rule, you learn better by doing and learning from your mistakes.’

 I barely had time to react before his sword came at me, I rose my own just in time and they kissed with a clank that echoed in the forest around us. I cocked my brow at him and pushed against his sword. I couldn’t help but smile at the expression of surprise on his face, though when he recovered and his devilish smirk took over, I knew I was in trouble.

 XxX

 ‘Alright!’ I laughed, holding my hands up because Klaus had somehow managed to knock my sword out of my hand, ‘you win.’

 ‘What was that, love?’ he cocked his head to the side, a faux expression of confusion on his face, ‘I didn’t quite hear you.’

 ‘I said you win, jackass.’ I smiled sweetly—he hadn’t known what that word meant, but in the course of our training session, he had quickly learned it wasn’t anything good.

‘I’ll overlook the verbal abuse as it’s quite clear your pride has taken a beating,’ Klaus teased, his eyes shining with mischief.

 ‘You, Klaus Mikaelson, have just issued me with a challenge,’ I carried on before he could speak, ‘I will beat you at least once before I go back to my time, and it will be so amazing that you will never underestimate any woman again. Especially me.’

 Klaus’ brows rose in amusement and I could tell he was biting back a laugh at my behaviour, ‘so be it love. I look forward to it.’

 ‘As do I.’ I replied, picking up Elijah’s sword from the ground, both of us walking back towards the house, but when I saw Trevor flashing from the house I remembered what I needed to talk to Klaus about.

 ‘I need to talk to you about something.’ I murmured, my tone going from light to serious and I could tell that Klaus noted from the frown on his face.

 ‘Yes?’

 ‘When the doppelgänger gets here, who are you planning to have watch her?’ I started, placing a hand on his forearm to get him to stop walking.

 ‘Trevor or Elijah are highest up in level of command. I was going to have them split the duty.’ He replied, his eyes flickering over my concerned expression, ‘I’m guessing you don’t think that’s a good idea.’

 ‘I was just going to suggest that it might be in your best interest to compel Trevor to watch the doppelgänger and bring her to you when the time as right. And you should compel Katherine not to run and to ignore anything about a ritual or sacrifice.’

 ‘That’s very clever.’ He complimented me, his head tilting in acknowledgement, ‘are you saying that I cannot trust Trevor or Elijah?’

 ‘I’m not saying you can’t trust Elijah.’ I shook my head firmly—I knew that despite his blossoming feelings for Katherine he remained true to his brother, ‘and I don’t think you should kill Trevor either, just compel him so you know he’ll remain loyal.’

 ‘Very well, I will take your advice.’ He smirked before he continued, ‘though I do hope you’re not leading me astray, Evangeline.’

 I rolled my eyes and shoved his shoulder, recognising the teasing lilt in his voice. But my merriment soon disappeared when I thought about having to see Katherine in the flesh again.

 ‘You know I’m only jesting, don’t you?’ Klaus asked, his smile gone from his face.

 ‘Yes.’ I offered him a small smile, ‘I was just thinking about how Katherine will be here soon.’ In four days to be exact.

 ‘You haven’t told me about how you know her.’ Klaus said, his hands clasped behind his back.

 We started to walk again and I followed him blindly, the journey was spent in silence as I pondered over what I was planning to tell him. I’d probably already changed the future so much, why start lying now?

 ‘Katherine, or Katarina as you call her, is or will be the vampire that turns me.’ I told him, my voice soft.

 ‘Is that how she escaped the ritual?’ he frowned, trying to put the pieces together.

 ‘It’s a very long complicated story.’ I sighed, taking a seat on the grassy bank overlooking a nearby river—I made a mental note of its location for the future.

 ‘I’d love to hear it. If you want to tell me.’ He flashed a dimpled smile that made my stomach flip but I just rolled my eyes.

 ‘Everything? You want to know everything that Katherine did in my time? How she evaded you? What you did when you ventured into my life?’ I sent him a challenging look that he didn’t waver under.

 ‘Tell me.’ He said firmly.

 I shrugged and I told him everything, starting at the beginning when Stefan and Damon came into my sister’s life. How I’d transferred collages to be closer to her, because I knew she needed me. How she had learned that Stefan was the one who saved her the night our parent’s car drove off Wickery Bridge. I told him about Katherine coming back into our lives, how she had played the Salvatore’s and Elena, how she’d hated me because I was respected amongst my friends. When I relayed that she had turned me out of spite, his fists had clenched in anger until I assured him that I was happy as what I was. I told him about how she had triggered both Mason and Tyler’s werewolf curses, how she’d also transformed Caroline. I told him that she was planning on gathering all the required ingredients and offering them to him in a bid to win her freedom. I told him about the arrival of Elijah; how we had planned to work with him until Damon got it in his head he couldn’t be trusted. Then I relayed how he had been daggered until we realised we needed him. I told him that Elijah was the one who informed us of how the past ritual failed; Trevor informed Katherine of Klaus’ true intentions and helped her flee. I told him that they had run for five hundred years and had bartered their freedom from Elijah in exchange for the doppelgänger. Elijah granted Rose freedom and murdered Trevor.

 When I reached the point of him arriving in town, I looked away from him, not wanting him to witness the sadness and anger in my eyes. I told him about possessing Alaric, him trying to kill Bonnie, him turning my aunt to use her as a vampire in the ritual, Elijah promising to help us stop him and his brother’s eventual shift to his side. I told him everything up until the point of Stefan leaving town with him so that Klaus would help his brother. I didn’t elaborate on why Damon needed help and I didn’t tell him that his blood was the cure, or that Elena was Katherine’s doppelgänger. I was sure to refer to her as “the doppelgänger” whenever I mentioned the ritual. I didn’t know if that information would make any difference, but telling him so much just made me feel stripped bare and vulnerable, I wanted to know something that he didn’t. Honestly I didn’t think it would make much of a difference, he already knew more about my life than anyone outside of my circle of friends back home and it scared me.

 ‘That’s a lot of information to take in.’ he murmured, and I looked over to him for the first time in a while.

 He wasn’t looking at me, he was staring into the river in front of us, and he seemed miles away from the conversation and me.

 ‘Tell me about it.’ I let out a breathy laugh.

 I started when Klaus’ hand was suddenly on top of mine. When I recovered from my fright, he had already entwined our fingers. I squeezed his hand and gave him a look of confusion.

 ‘I’m sorry for the pain you have endured.’ He said and I was blown away by the sincerity in his blue eyes.

 ‘You don’t need to apologise, Klaus.’ I offered him a sincere smile, ‘like you said, you haven’t done anything wrong and if I’m successful you won’t have when I return. If we completely fail, you can apologise in six hundred years.’

 He chuckled and shook his head, both amused and surprised.

 ‘You are like no one I have ever known.’ He murmured, his free hand brushing my curls behind my ear and caressing the side of my face.

 ‘I’m sure plenty of women before me have heard that very line.’ I teased, hoping he didn’t notice my blush.

 He smiled softly, but didn’t elaborate and I was glad. Klaus had this way of looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world, priceless and exquisite beyond compare. As you can imagine, being on the other end of that stare was more intense than I can put into words. But a part of me revelled in it, appreciated it, because honestly I couldn’t remember the last time anyone showed even a little bit of interest in me, let alone looked at me like that. I shook away my wayward thoughts and cleared my throat before standing.

 ‘We should get back. Won’t the alpha be here soon?’ I wondered quietly, standing from the bank and turning to cock my brow at him.

 ‘You’re quite right. I suppose we should,’ Klaus sighed and pushed himself up off the grass as well.

 He offered me his arm before we started walking. To his surprise, as well as my own, I took it without hesitation as I tried not to think about how… normal his touch felt. His skin underneath mine was warm and comforting, I realised with a start that Klaus made me feel safe. Definitely not something I thought I would ever associate with the hybrid.

 When we reached the house, I realised how long we must have been gone when we saw the servants starting to lay food out on the table. The alpha would be arriving a lot quicker than I thought. Both of us departed to our rooms to get ready after we shared a smile. I simply changed into another dress that didn’t have sword rips, dirt or blood on it—it was a deep green colour and honestly I was going to miss this kind of fashion when I returned to the future—it was incredibly comfortable. I would have had a bath, but there wasn’t any time; they literally had to fill up a massive metal tub with boiling water, it took quite a while. It was wonderful, but it also made me incredibly grateful for the plumbing advancements in the twenty first century. When I was satisfied with my appearance, I made my way down stairs, running my fingers through my long curly hair on the way, trying to free it of any tangles.

 ‘Ah, Evangeline there you are,’ Klaus said in a voice I had never heard him use before.

 I frowned in confusion until the smell of wolf invaded my nostrils, alerting me to the alpha’s presence. I assumed Klaus was in host mode, or lure-my-potential-enemies-into-a-false-sense-of-security mode.

 ‘Here I am.’ I forced a smile and took the empty seat across from the new face.

 He was kind of scary looking; he was covered with scars on his face, his shoulders were incredibly broad and I’m pretty sure that one of his biceps alone was bigger than my head. His dark hair and eyes seemed to heighten the aura of darkness that hung around him. Definitely not a guy you wanted to cross.

 ‘Now that we’re all here, the discussion can begin.’ The alpha said, his voice was deep and gravely in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

 ‘Absolutely. We are more than happy to live in peace with your kind while we are here, none of us have any aversion to werewolves, despite the rumours that are going around at the moment,’ Elijah’s calm voice relived some of the tension in my shoulders, but only a little.

 ‘How do we know if you’re telling the truth?’ biceps asked, his dark eyes assessing all of us in turn, I frowned at the disgust on his face.

 ‘Well if we weren’t, we could have killed you already,’ I smiled sweetly; his clear dislike for vampires was making me a little bitchy.

 ‘And what makes you think I would be threatened someone like you?’ he sneered.

 I cleared my throat and forced a small smile, ‘someone like me? I’m not sure what you mean?’

 I saw Klaus’ hand come up to hide his smirk—he knew how pissed gender repression made me and I was pretty sure this guy was gonna add the fact I was a vampire into it.

 ‘A woman like you has no business having an opinion in important matters, the fact that you’re a leech doesn’t make you more important.’ He growled.

 I pursed my lips and nodded, calmly reaching up to my neck and removing my locket. I took Klaus’ hand and dropped the jewellery into it—he looked a mixture of confused and amused but before he could question me I lunged across the table at the alpha, successfully knocking him to the ground with me landing on top of him. It was a few seconds before anyone reacted, I heard chairs scraping back but I paid it no attention and punched the alpha in the jaw hard enough to break the bone. He roared in outrage and tried to strike me back but I simply snapped his arm and was about to do the same to the other that rose to strangle me when I was pulled back by strong arms around my waist.

 ‘What are you doing?’ I almost yelled, anger still pumping through my veins.

 ‘As arousing it is watching you singlehandedly take on a werewolf, you need to clam down.’ Klaus murmured in my ear, his warm breath rising goose bumps on my skin. I felt myself relax into his hold, when he felt the fight leave me his arm wrapped casually around my waist but I knew it was there encase I acted out again. It didn’t stop me from leaning into the touch.

 Elijah had to restrain the alpha when he got to his feet, as he immediately tried to come after me. Scarface struggled against the elder Mikaelson’s hold but it was pointless; Elijah was much older and more experienced than him.

 ‘You’re dead.’ He snarled.

 ‘Very true. Wanna try telling me something I don’t know?’ I remarked, hardly registering Klaus’ snort of amusement.

 ‘When the moon rises next week, our pack is going to come for you. Mark my words.’

 At that, both Mikaelson men suddenly became eerily serious. Klaus moved me behind him, and noticing his demeanour I frowned, wondering why his conduct had changed so suddenly.

 ‘Do my ears deceive me, brother, or did this werewolf just threaten our guest?’ Klaus asked, stepping towards him, his arms behind his back.

 ‘You heard correctly, Niklaus.’ Elijah replied, releasing his hold on the alpha. He tried to go for me straight away, but Klaus pinned him to the wall by his throat.

 ‘You understand, mate, that while we were more than willing to play nice and negotiate peacefully, we aren’t opposed to doing this the hard way.’ His voice remained steady, but that somehow made it sound more threatening, ‘truth be told, the hard way is much more fun.’

 ‘I- I didn’t mean—,’ the wolf gasped out, but Klaus just gripped his throat tighter to stop his words.

 ‘You come into our house, insult our friend and dare threaten her in the span of ten minutes. Let me make myself perfectly clear.’ Klaus’ eyes darkened, ‘if you, or any of your werewolf friends come after her, it will be your head, and the heads of your entire pack. Do you understand?’

 The wolf’s face was turning purple but he managed a slight nod that had Klaus releasing him. He slid down the wall a little as he gathered some air into his lungs. He snapped his arm back in place, shot me a glare and then left without a backwards glance. I felt my face shift into a guilty grimace as both Mikaelson’s turned to face me at the same time.

 I bit my lip, wondering if I was about to get in trouble, ‘that went well.’

 ‘What were you thinking?’ Klaus asked, though there wasn’t any rage in his voice, just frustration.

 ‘I was thinking that he was rude and obnoxious.’ I rolled my eyes but the guilt in my stomach made itself known, ‘but I’m sorry that I messed everything up.’

 ‘I don’t care about that!’ Klaus snapped, running his hand through his hair, ‘he was never going to accept us being on his territory.’

 ‘Then what’s the problem?’ I frowned, confused.

 ‘The problem is that you have just made yourself an enemy, an enemy that could kill you with one bite on the night of a full moon.’ Klaus yelled, making me blink in surprise.

 Did he… care about me? No, he couldn’t, I shook that thought away and felt my defences rise at his tone.

 ‘Klaus I’ve faced plenty of werewolves on the night of a full moon. I can handle myself.’ I told him flippantly, ‘I think I proved that already.’

 ‘You’re not going to be of any help to me if you get yourself killed!’ he yelled, rage most definitely in his tone now, but I refused to back down or be afraid of him, especially seeing as my heart stung to have his lack of affection for me confirmed.

 ‘You can’t control everything Klaus!’ I matched his volume, standing toe to toe with him, ‘you most certainly cannot control me. So if I want to beat up a werewolf knowing he could turn around and bite me in the ass, that’s my decision to make—not yours!’

 ‘That is quite enough.’ Elijah’s calm tone interrupted our moment, ‘I suggest you both stop now before you say something you might regret.’

 ‘That’s a good idea, Elijah.’ I nodded, shooting Klaus one last glare before I stormed from the room and headed towards my chambers.

 I needed to be alone.

 But I had barely reached my door when I realised it wasn’t going to be enough distance. With that I flashed out of the front door encase either of them tried to stop me—it wasn’t like tonight was a full moon so if the alpha came back for me he wouldn’t be a threat. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going for a while, the fight Klaus and I had was running on repeat through my mind, fuelling my anger. This was how I usually worked through things; if I was angry I let it run its course and then I’d look at the situation without fury tampering with my judgement. By the time that had happened I’d reached a waterfall, and I felt any remaining anger sizzle out of me as I listened to the falling water.

 Klaus had a right to be angry with me, and he did have a point about making the alpha angry. But I had never let the fact someone was stronger than me stop me from standing up for what I believed in. I might have been in a century where women were viewed as less superior to men, but that didn’t mean I had to stand for it. I stood by what I did, and I wouldn’t change it. And I wasn’t mad at Klaus’ reaction, not really, I was mad that while my feelings toward him seemed to be changing he didn’t care about me even a little. He apologised to me earlier and he seemed to mean it, but what if he was just trying to manipulate me into trusting him? It wouldn’t have surprised me. All he cared about was making sure I stayed alive long enough to guarantee that this ritual was successful. But what did I expect? He said he trusted me, but that was a far cry away from caring about me. I was expecting way too much from him, and I was losing sight of why I was here.

 I’m here to make sure Katherine dies in the ritual so Klaus could break his curse and I so won’t have to worry about him coming to Mystic Falls to sacrifice Elena and kill those I care about on the way.

 I nodded with at my decision and stood, not remembering when I sat down.

 ‘Well, well what do we have here?’ I felt my whole body stiffen at the voice before I span around, facing him with a glare.

 ‘I could ask you the same thing.’ I retorted—if I still had a heartbeat it would have been racing in that moment.

 ‘You must be stupid to wonder into my territory after attacking me,’ He snarled and stepped forward.

 ‘You wanna do this again?’ I snorted in amusement, focusing my hearing to detect if anyone else was around.

 I could have screamed when I heard at least ten other heartbeats close by. One werewolf on my own, I could handle, a whole pack of them? I was fucked.

 ‘I have something I didn’t last time, honey.’ His lip curled into an ugly sneer, and in that moment several werewolves stepped out from behind the trees, inevitably surrounding me.

 My lips pressed into a hard line—I refused to look afraid, but there was a chance I was completely screwed. My only benefit was that without a full moon, they didn’t have any toxic venom in their fangs. Night was falling, and if that were the case I’d be dead by sunrise.

 ‘What is even more stupid is that you wondered in here on the night of a full moon.’ He smirked.

 ‘The full moon isn’t until next week,’ I argued, taking a step back. I knew for a fact it was exactly a week away.

 ‘There is a full moon next week.’ He nodded, stepping even closer to me and chuckling when I stepped back, ‘but there’s also one tonight.’

 Before he could reach me I flashed around and managed to knock out at least eight of the wolves before the alpha caught me. I had a moment to struggle and managed to break out of his grasp when everything went black.

I KNOW THAT FULL MOONS DON’T HAPPEN SO CLOSE TOGETHER, BUT FOR THE PURPOSE OF THE STORY LETS PRETEND THEY DO ;)

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #Klaus Mikaelson x OC #the originals #the vampire diaries

[diamondcamefromhell]

Pit Stop

fem!reader x jaskier [friend thing, not romance]

A/N: HIIIIII so i drank a bit today and this creation came to be, tried to edit all the mistakes, but there may still be some. i just wrote it from my heart, not really focusing on it being great to read, allowing it flow through me so it may be an aboslute mess and i might delete it when i wake up, but enjoy it while its here [even if it may stay forver]

Warnings: none!

Summary: [written in third person again] Y/N is a orphan who grew up in Kaer Morhen, and her basically-big-brother Geralt comes to visit with Jaskier and the two of them have a heart to heart

Word count: 2.592

as always, any feedback is appreciated, but on this one, pls keep in mind that i didnt write it entirely sober and its late and im sad lmao, but criticism is good and needed for every writer, so feel free to leave it even on this [or anonymously on my ask page] 

all the love <3

She lifted her sword just in time to block Geralt, parrying back with her other hand, hitting him with her other blade. The witcher grunted, pushing her with his swords, making her stumble back, a smile still on her face. She turned the weapons in her hands, both in a attack position now, as Geralt also smiled, gripping his sword tighter.

Y/N was able to duel-wield as well as you could possibly do it, it never occurred to her that she could fight with only one sword. In her mind, it truly seemed like a waste of opportunities, and she didn’t plan on contributing to it. While still young, she could stand her ground against Geralt, which was impressive on itself.

And Jaskier knew it. In his head, his friend witcher was the strongest-baddest-unbeatable Geralt, but now, in Kaer Morhen, his buddy was struggling holding back against this girls attacks.

��Well done.” Witcher spoke, lowering his sword. He hated to admit it, but he was running out of breath, and Y/N seemed to radiate endless energy. The girl laughed, straightening up.

“Thanks, Gee.” Geralt grunted at the nickname, smile still painting across his face.

The girl took a deep breath, looking up at the mountains that surrounded her home. She was an orphan, left in the woods. One of the witchers found her, and tried to get someone to take the baby in, but times were tough and Y/N was just an extra mouth to feed. She was taken here, to Kaer Morhen, at first it was planned to be short-term.

But she grew up with the boys, eventually picking her name herself. She never underwent the procedure to fully become a witcher, but she was a better fighter than some. She earned her nickname, the great Shewolf, who was as vicious and as strong as one. Someone who would die for her family.

Jaskier has heard about her from Geralt and some other witchers they’ve met on the road, but the bard knew the girl rarely left her home. Being abandoned by her parents, she took all the boys under her wing, providing some love and care to them during their strict training regimen.

Now, as wind played with her hair, Jaskier had to stop himself from breaking into a song. She was beautiful, in this mountain view, she truly looked like a she-wolf – majestic, wild and free. The girl felt the stare, glancing at the bard, offering him a smile.

“Jaskier and I,” Geralt spoke, getting her attention back on himself, “got you a gift.”

“Did you?” Her eyebrows rose as she glanced between the men.

“Something very special.” Witcher said. He never would admit it, but Y/N has grown to be like a little sister to him – he wanted to give her the world.

But all he could offer now, was two new swords. Light weight enough to make her duel-wielding possible and even faster than it was now. It was long, and sharp. The special thing about it was that one side of the blade was silver, the other steel. It was also enchanted with runes, so it would catch enemies on fire, at random.

They were beautiful, black handles and with a tree design on the blade itself. But for Y/N, that didn’t matter. It was the gesture itself; she knew how expensive weapons are. And not even that, finding a good blacksmith was nearly impossible these days. The trouble they must’ve gone through almost brought a tear to her eye.

She dropped her old swords, taking the new ones. They felt perfect in her hands.

“I am at a loss for words.” Geralt smirked.

“A thank you will do.” She fixed her gaze on the witcher, trying to swallow down the tears.

“Thank you. Truly.” She turned her eyes to the bard, who rose to his feet, coming closer to Y/N. “Jaskier, thank you too.”

“I didn’t do that much.” He muttered.

“You have never been to Kaer Morhen, have you?” Jaskier shook his head, and an idea came to the womans head. “Let me show you around. As a thank you. If not for a sword, then for keeping my big old Gee company.”

“Don’t you want to test your new swords?” Geralt asked before Jaskier could agree to the offer. Y/N shoulders dropped as she gazed into the horizon.

“We’ll have time for it tomorrow.” She finally decided, glancing at the witcher. “You seem tired. Are you getting old, Geralt?”

“Tired of you, little one.” He smirked, putting his sword in his scabbard. “But okay. I need to catch up with Master-“

“With Vesemir about Cirilla, yeah.” Y/N interrupted, remembering that they weren’t here to visit her – not exactly. Of course, it added to the trip, but their main goal was to talk to Vesemir about Cirilla and how she’s okay. Nothing in particular that Y/N found interesting, but she knew how important it was to Geralt. “Go and surprise that old bastard. He will be happy to hear the news.”

Bard watched his friend grin and turn around, going into the massive castle. The pair stood there in silence at first, and Jaskier began to worry that his lady friend would feel uncomfortable with just the two of them; but she was gazing at the sky. The mountains loomed over them, guarding this place, keeping it safe. It provided an impressive view, too.

“It’s beautiful.” Bard broke the silence, as the girl smiled.

“There is something so peaceful about this view.” A sad shadow loomed over her face. “But once all of the witcher disappear… this place will be abandoned. Hidden in these hills, deep in the woods.”

“But the Witchers won’t disappear.” Jaskier argued, although he knew that the population of withcers was dropping, as no new boys have been trained in years. He didn’t know why, and he was too afraid to ask. Bard was smarted than that, and knew not to open old wounds.

“Everything disappears, Jaskier.” Y/N glanced at her old swords on the ground, as they reflected the light. “But I am glad you find this place beautiful.”

“Precisely.” He muttered, as his head was working overtime trying to come up with something to comfort the girls troubled heart.

“Maybe you’ll write poems about it. That way, we will live on forever.” Girl spoke, turning around, waving the bard to follow her.

Which he did, with no hesitation. The sun was shining on them, but the weather wasn’t really that warm. Jaskier wrapped his arms around himself, watching Y/N in front, with her armour, that seemed to be too light to protect from the hold breeze that was picking up. But the girl didn’t mind, stepping to the training grounds.

They were now surrounded by dummies, most of which haven’t been touched in months. Her heart felt heavy, but she hoped one day soon new boys would come and train here. She would pray, but she didn’t believe in any gods.

“Training grounds, not used in… awhile.” She cleared her throat, sheathing her swords behind her back. She crossed her arms over, looking back at the bard, who was examining the dummies.

“These look new.” He pointed out and Y/N laughed.

“They got destroyed all the time. We would make new ones pretty much everyday, so they are new, yet to be destroyed.” She explained something in her heart lifting. It was as if there was new boy to train; even if the man in front of her was too old for this.

Though older, his eyes reminder her of that of a kid. So much joy shined in them, she almost allowed herself be fooled that he had lived an easy life. Traveling with a witcher was nothing easy at all, especially Geralt. While Y/N got to know his more affectionate side, sometimes he would hurt even her. he never meant to, but his comments would be daggers at heart.

And this man, was a bard, she also remembered, her eyes grazing the lute hanging by his side. Not a fighter, not trained. He could probably barely hold a weapon or protect himself, and with the contracts and helping citizens, she was sure this man has seen more than he lets on.

Maybe more than her.

But there were no shadows in his blue eyes, as he brushed his hair back, smiling at the girl, who was in deep thought, staring right at him. Her eyes pierced Jaskier, as he wondered what was going on in her head.

“A coin for your thoughts?” Jaskier decided to try and pry, figure out what world she was lost in.

“You have travelled with Gee for awhile now, but you don’t seem to be troubled by it.” Bard shrugs, his shoulders relaxing; he didn’t even realize that he has gotten nervous.

“He protects me.” Her gaze drifts ahead, as she sits down by the dummy. A shadow of sadness looms over her again, and Jaskier sits down too, their legs now touching.

“I wish someone would protect me.” Jaskier furrows his brows, staring at his hands.

“But you can protect yourself.” He speaks, as Y/N sighs. That was not what she meant, but the bard carried on. “You literally can hold you ground against Geralt. The Geralt.”

“That’s not the point, Jaskier.” She rests her head on the dummy behind her, staring at the mountains. Sometimes she feels like they are about to fall on her, swallowing her whole. “I still want to be protected. Someone to take care of me, too.”

“What about Vesemir?” She knows he is genuinely trying to help, but the mountains still double up in size as she feels small. She would feel like this when she was a child, isolated and alone. A sigh escapes her lips again, resting between them like a ravine.

“I meant more of a friend.” She finally clarified, after the silence began to grow uncomfortable. Jaskier stared at the ground between them, as if that ravine was actually there.

“I can be your friend.” She nodded. She already felt like they were friends.

“You and Geralt both are my friends. But…” Jaskier watched as her face changed, becoming more and more puzzled. He wanted to help her find the right words, express what she means exactly. Maybe that would lessen the pain in her eyes.

“I get it, I think.” He decided to try and put some clarity into her clear thought volcano. “We, and I bet some other friends, we come and go. But most of the time, you’re alone. And I bet you feel trapped, surrounded by these mountains and woods. No escape, as even the horizon isn’t clear.”

“Exactly!” She shouted, involuntary. “Everyone tells me I’m a shewolf, I can protect myself and thrive alone, and that’s correct. But I still want to have a pack.”

“Why don’t you join us then?” Jaskier offers and the girl closes her eyes. She wants to go, but what if someone comes here, some small boy, scared and alone. Ripped from their mothers crying hands. She has to be there for them, if it were to happen.

“I’m needed her.” Jaskier sighs, a sour taste growing in his mouth. He didn’t like the thoughts that filled his head, the words that were urging to escape.

“Ghosts don’t need to be cared for, Y/N.” His tone was soft, as if he was talking to a child. He even dared to reach out and place his hand on hers, which she didn’t shake off. “If anything, they need to be let go off. Laid to rest.”

“But if someone new comes-“ Jaskier squeezed her hand, making the girl stop mid-sentence. Their eyes met.

“If someone comes, Vesemir will find us. You can’t find a pack if you stay in this cage.” His words made sense, and she knew it.

But she didn’t want to listen. Her eyes gazed away from the boy, back to the mountains, who began casting shadows on the pair. Wolves howled in the woods and the breeze picked up again. She didn’t feel cold, but Jaskier shivered a little.

“I should show you inside.” She tried to avert the conversation, but the bard wasn’t having it. She rose to her feet, but he remained on the ground.

“The view from the top of the mountains must be amazing.” He said, gazing there. He did wonder if you could even reach it; these trained professionals probably could, but he, a simple bard, would probably slip and fall to his death. He shivered at the thought of that.

“You see endless fields and forests. But it is nice.” Y/N agreed, crossing her arms.

“So you see the opportunities the world has to offer.” He eventually decided, standing up. “Then this isn’t a trap – is a pit stop, before you go to see all that the sun touches.”

“Sure, poet.” She grinned, but his words settled in her heart. “Let’s get inside.”

So the tour continued, as they drifted from painful topics to more easy ones. Jasier showcased some songs, which she thoroughly enjoyed, and Y/N shared some fun stories from a better time.

But evening came, and something went wrong. Geralt ushered them to leave. The sun had set, and the only light was a few torches surrounding the group. Withcer didn’t seem worried, just in a hurry. Jaskier had his lute over his shoulder, saddened to be leaving so soon.

Y/N was painfully looking at her friends, wondering when she will see them again.

“We will visit soon. Ciri just needs me, I know it.” Geralt grunted, petting Roach. He was eager to get on the road.

“It’s okay. I’m glad I got to see you again, Gee.” Y/N forced a smile, but it didn’t fool the boys. They exchanged worried looks.

After hugs exchanged, she watched them leave – Geralt on Roach, Jaskier on a horse he borrowed from Vesemir. Y/N looked up once more, mountains blocking her view, but the bards words crept in, waking something inside her.

She whistled her horse, urging it to a gallop to catch up with her friend. Surprise painted their faces when they saw her, and both men stopped in their tracks.

“You said you’d visit soon.” She explained, slowing her horse to a canter, going ahead of them. “I can leave Kaer Morhen for a little bit. And these gifted swords need testing too.”

“You’re coming with us?” Jaskier couldn’t hide the joy in his voice, but he didn’t care. In the dark he and Geralt could barely tell that the girl rolled her eyes.

“Let’s go, boys!” She rushed to a gallop again.

They caught up to her in a heartbeat. They raced through the mountains, until they reached one of the peaks.

The fields in front of them offered endless possibilities. In this moonlight, shewolf took a deep breathe, and she knew, that for the first time in ages, she was breathing freedom. One last glance at her home, the castle glistening in the light grey light of the night was inviting.

But she knew she would always find a home here.

She could always come and rest, until she was ready to venture again. Now, she needed to go and find her pack.

y/N didn’t know, that Jaskier and Geralt both thought they just added a new member to their pack. They accepted her, racing in the night, to the rest of their pack, towards Ciri and Yen. Rushing into the unknown, leaving the pit stop behind.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier fluff #witcher imagine #jaskier imagine #drunk writing #not good but good #im also supeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer sad so hey #enjoy this #i needed someone to tell me what jask tells Y/N so ya kno #theres that #bye

[the-zodiacs-written-in-the-stars]

Writer’s Month Day 24: Betrayal

The story of how Libra betrayed Leo and Scorpio!

It had been on the first day of the year that Jamie and Babs found their gems. Scorpio and Leo joined their lives and Jamie and Babs started training hard. Physically and with their powers. While Babs immediately fell in love with hers – water! She could control water – Jamie hated his fire.

“Come on. Fire is strong. And you control it”, countered Babs.

They were off, away from people. In the mountains. Jamie had always liked the mountains around Los Angeles. They reminded him that this wasn't England. He glared as he balled a fist and summoned flames. They had put up targets against the mountain-side to hone their aim. It was... moderately working. They had improved the tiniest bit – in that they actually hit somewhere on the target by now instead of meters away. That was... progress. Or so the optimistic purple-haired magical girl next to him said. Jamie still couldn't believe Babs had gone full magical girl on her costume. Granted, according to Babs he had 'no room to talk!' because he had gone for the brooding hoodie and the all-leather outfit that showed off skin along the arms and legs. At least he had practical boots though. Babs just rolled her eyes at him at that.

“Oh my god, you are like me!”

Jamie and Babs startled at the sudden high-pitched voice. And they startled even more when they saw a woman descend from the sky. Jamie held tightly onto his sword, staring at her warily. She touched down on the ground with one bright-pink high-heel. She was wearing a light-pink dress that was cut incredibly high on the left side, with a deep cleavage. A silver bracelet on each hand, both attached to what looked like a fluffy boa. Red curls fell onto her shoulders as she landed.

“Who... what... are you?”, asked Jamie suspiciously.

“I'm like you!”, exclaimed the redhead excitedly. “I found a pretty pearl a few days ago and then I suddenly had a talking puppy! Oh, he's adorable! So endearing! And he told me to become a hero! And he told me there are eleven others like me!”

“And you just... happened to run into us?”, asked Babs, as cautious as her best friend.

“Oh no, that'd be a ridiculous coincident”, laughed the redhead. “I've been scanning the city for suspicious occurrences. The fire-hazard here has piqued my interest.”

She motioned toward the burning targets. And oh. Jamie furrowed his eyebrows at that.

“I'm Scorpio. That's Leo”, introduced Babs slowly.

“And one of you has fire-powers?”, guessed the redhead, while Jamie continued glowering at her. “I have... air-powers. Which include flying. Guess burning something down is more practical, huh?”

She laughed as she twirled a hand, causing a small tornado to whirl on her palm. Jamie narrowed his eyes at that. Though their companions had told them there would be ten others.

“I'm Libra, by the way. Or, we could just jump to real names right?”, tagged the redhead on with a smile on her cherry-pink lips. “We're a team, after all.”

“We are not a team”, stated Jamie seriously. “We don't know you.”

“What my partner means is that we have to... get to know you first before we can be a team”, interrupted Babs, resting a hand against Jamie's chest to hold him back.

Jamie sighed and rolled his eyes. Though he knew she was right. They were supposed to be a team of twelve, so it was good they already ran into another Zodiac. Still, she was a total stranger and he didn't trust just like that. He looked her up and down very slowly.

We... come here every second night to train”, offered Jamie slowly. “You could join us. We train together, get to know each other. Become a team.”

“That sounds like a reasonable compromise”, smiled Libra.

~*~

They trained well together. With Libra, Jamie could spar. He had a sword, she had a... he wasn't sure what it was, but it was sharp-edged on all four sides, with a handle at the center of one of the long sides. She wielded it like a knife, it cut from all ends. She was good with it.

After two weeks, they went out to fight their first criminal. A normal robbery, no aliens involved – Los Angeles was actually pretty large and both Jamie and Babs had jobs so they couldn't physically make it to most alien-attacks because by the time the news covered it and they could go and get there, it was already over. Still, they took out three robbers on their own.

“We're good”, stated Babs, laughing high-pitched as she collapsed.

They had returned to the mountain-side where they trained. Babs was laying sprawled out, staring up at the stars. Jamie offered the smallest smile where he sat next to her. Libra took her seat on Jamie's other side. She laughed softly and leaned a little toward him; not against him though.

“This was... exciting”, whispered Libra softly. We really are good. You know, this is... all I ever wanted. To help people. I've been through... so much already. I never want anyone to feel the way I did when I was growing up. No one should, so I want to help.”

Jamie smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Something about her words was shallow. Empty. He had been through so much and he never wanted anyone else to go through it, so there was something about the sentiment that he'd recognize if it was genuine.

“We could... We could exchange names now, right?”, asked Libra with a smile. “We're a team now.”

“No”, grunted Jamie and shook his head. “I can't... Not yet.”

“It's been three weeks”, countered Libra, something strained to her voice. “Come on. We just busted some bad guys. You have to trust me by now, right?”

Jamie narrowed his eyes. “You're so eager for us to reveal our real identities, but you never volunteer to go first. I just... I can't... Give me more time. I have-”

“Trust-issues. Yeah”, grunted Libra dryly, balling a first next to her hand. “Trust-issues and you'll never get over them, will you? I'm just wasting my time.”

Her voice was cold as she glared at Jamie. He shuddered at that. She always said exactly the right things, with the enthusiastic chipper note that was so familiar to Jamie from Babs. She even knew how to say things to make them sound more convincing. To appeal to Jamie. That was what didn't sit right for him. It was all too tailored. Even the things she had said just before, about the hard life she used to have. She knew how to read someone and how to appeal to them and that was what had rubbed Jamie the wrong way and left him to put her on hold. He screamed wide-eyed when suddenly a searing pain originated from his spine. The last he saw were Libra's dark eyes.

~*~

She hummed as she returned home, taking a couple tissues to clean her bloodied hands. Leo had made such a mess when she had stabbed him. Closing her eyes, she turned off the costume. She turned to look into the mirror, smiling as she straightened her dress.

“What did you do, Carry? You were supposed to turn them. Not kill them.”

“Oh, no one got killed. Not yet, anyway”, shrugged Carry with a smile while righting her red curls. “He irritated me. I had the urge to stab him. He'll be fine, probably.”

She turned toward her glowering guest and smiled delighted when she saw the Vogue on the glass-table in her living room, her own face smiling up at her. Oh, she looked good on it. Red Queen Records producing yet another brilliant singer and her, the founder and head of the company.

“Besides, it was pointless anyway”, sighed Carry dramatically before she sat down next to her partner in crime. “I have an eye for talent. They're not cut out for our line of work.”

#writersmonth2019 #Leo: James Saint John #Scorpio: Babara Burkhart #Libra: Carroll Lewis #Story: Written in the Stars #Project: Written in the Stars

[randomfandomimagine]

Here Comes The Sun. Chapter 3: Gimme Shelter

Fandom: Supernatural

Setting: Alternative Season 13/14

OC: Brooke Bishop

Pairing: None

Previous Chapter - Chapter Index - Next Chapter

WATTPAD - AO3

Snippets of terrible images flashed before my eyes. Two deep black eyes. Crimson red blood. White sharp teeth. A silver machete.

I panicked for a few seconds when I opened my eyes and violently sat up. I was lying down in a bed, in a strange room. I focused on slowing my breathing as I tried to remember what happened. Everything slowly came back to me. The black car. The two brothers. The bunker.

“I’m s-safe” I told myself as I slowly breathed in and out. “I’m safe here, it’s okay…”

I wasn’t alone either. I was with Sam and Dean, and Jack was there too. I was in a bunker, in a very safe place. And they wouldn’t let anything happen to me, they had proved that.

I put my feet on the ground and stopped for a moment to think. What would I do? Was I supposed to try and get back to my old life? Would Sam and Dean let me stay longer? I really didn’t want to bother, but it felt like that place was the only place I would feel even slightly safe. My old house definitely didn’t, and I didn’t really want to get back to it.

I got up, figuring I could just ask them, talk to them and discuss what my next step would be. It was nice of them to let me crash for the night, but I couldn’t stay there forever.

Since I felt a little bit groggy, I wondered for how long I had slept for. I was even surprised that I fell asleep on the first place, to be honest, I was scared out of my mind last night. I still was, but last night felt fuzzy and surreal, maybe because of the shock and adrenaline. After a good night sleep, I was a little better, but my stomach felt unsettled. Still, I walked to the kitchen in the hopes that I could at least drink a glass of milk.

As I approached the kitchen, I heard the noise of plates and glasses clinking. When I arrived I saw Jack, just then setting a bowl in the table and sitting down.

“Good morning!” He received me, greeting me with a cute smile.

“Hi” I approached the table, eyes focused on the bowl he put over it.

“I don’t really know how to cook. So I tried… to make you breakfast”

The gesture genuinely warmed my heart, and it was so unexpected and adorable that it made me chuckle. That alone made my morning better.

“Aw shucks, thank you so much!” I sat down in front of him, still amused by the simplicity of a bowl of milk and cereal. Living alone I kind of knew how to cook, so it was pretty funny that he made me cereal. “That’s so nice of you, Jack!”

His smile widened as he modestly shrugged.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked me as I started eating the cereal.

“I… Truth is… not really” I chuckled to make light of the situation.

“It’s okay, I have nightmares sometimes too” Instead of comforting me, his words, no matter how kind, saddened me. It made me think about his own situation, how he probably went through a traumatic experience like myself since he knew about the supernatural.

“So how did you meet Sam and Dean?” I paused, analyzing his expression, watching how he looked away in deep thought. I hoped I wasn’t being nosy, I just wanted to get to know him better. “If you don’t mind me asking…”

“They… found me” Jack looked at me and nodded gravely. “And brought me here with them”

“So sweet of them to take you in” I dedicated a smile at him, earning a tiny one from him too.

“Yes”

“Where are they, by the way?”

“Getting ready”

“For what?”

Jack paused, starring in the seat and deliberately avoiding my eyes now.

“Are they… working?” I guessed, assuming it was what made him uncomfortable, so I let him know I was aware of their job.

“Yes” His blue eyes fell over me again. “Hunting”

It felt like Jack was as intimidated about the supernatural as I was, so I didn’t insist. Even if I enjoyed chatting with him, my priority wasn’t asking him questions that would make him uncomfortable. I just wanted to try and get along with him, which so far turned out easier than I thought.

I suddenly heard footsteps and turned around just in time to see Sam walking by. He briefly stopped at the door, tapping in the doorframe, and smiled at us. When he continued walking, however, I quickly stood up.

“Excuse me, Jack” I left him and the bowl of cereal there. “I’ll be right back”

“Of course” He muttered in response, staying there waiting for me.

“Sam” I ran along the corridor and tried to keep up with his long legs. “Sam, wait!”

“Yeah” He stopped and looked at me, intently listening to whatever I had to say.

“I can see you’re busy” I motioned to his outfit, surprised that he was wearing a suit and not the jeans and flannel, but preferred to focus on the subject at hand. “And I don’t mean to bother…”

“What is it, Brooke?” Sam smiled at my polite manners.

“Could I please talk to you and Dean for a moment? It won’t take long, I promise”

“Sure, wait for us in the hall, we’ll be there in a sec”

“Thank you”

I assumed by ‘hall’ he meant the main room, the one with the world map table, so I headed that way. As I did, I rehearsed in my mind what I wanted to tell them. How I still wasn’t really ready to abandon the safety of my improvised new home but I understood that I didn’t quite fit in. That I was willing to leave if I was a nuisance and, overall, that I was grateful for all their help and generosity.

I leaned on the table, tapping my foot on the ground and playing with my hands. I could hear both Sam and Dean walking up and down at the other side of the corridor, getting ready and talking to each other from different rooms to make sure they had everything they needed. For a moment I wondered what things they packed to go hunting for supernatural beings, but then I came to the conclusion that I didn’t really want to know.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when I heard a fluttering noise not far from me. I caught a shadow with the corner of my eye and my heart skipped a beat when I turned and saw a man there. Where did he come from?! Heck, he seemed to have materialized from thin air!

“Intruder!” I shouted, leaning away from the table and frantically looking for something to defend myself with.

All I could think of was to throw the red circular rubber markers that lied on the table. They hit him in the chest, but he just frowned and stared at me, unaffected. I stared at the man as I backed away from him.

“Sam! Dean! Jack!” I called out, bumping against the table and wondering why the stranger wasn’t attacking me. He fricking broke in after all!

I was relieved to hear the noise of doors swinging open and people hurrying my way, calling my name.  

The stranger’s blue eyes pierced me as he slightly tilted his head to the side.

“You must be Brooke Bishop” He said with a deep voice, yet somehow calm and soft. “I’m looking for Dean Winchester”

“N-No!” I gathered enough courage to shove him as a warning, even if my heart began racing at the mention of my name. “You’re… You’re not hurting him!”

“Hurt him? There must have been a misunderstanding”

“Brooke!” Sam was the first to arrive, wielding a gun.

“He broke in!” I quickly held the stranger by the arm, tightly gripping his brown trench coat, so Sam could impair him.

The man tried to get away from my grip, apparently very confused, but I didn’t buy his act and kept holding on to him. Sam, however, saved his gun and ran to my side.

“No, no” He gently pushed me away from the stranger in the trench coat. “It’s okay, Brooke! He’s not an intruder, he’s a friend”

“I’m Castiel” The man introduced himself.

“Castiel?” I watched him, analyzing his serious expression and piercing blue eyes.

Just then, Dean and Jack arrived. Dean was carrying an actual sword, I had no idea where he got it from. Geez, did this bunker have swords?!

“Kid, Cas’s a friend” Dean said, watching me gravely as he walked over and placed a hand over his shoulder. “He’s gonna stay with you two while we’re gone”

“Oh, okay” I awkwardly cleared my throat, but politely smiled and offered him my hand. “N-Nice to meet you, I’m Brooke”

Castiel frowned slightly, observing my stretched out hand. After a few seconds of hesitance, he squeezed it and nodded.

“I’m… really sorry about that” I awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of my head. “I didn’t know”

“It’s alright” He nodded politely. “You were trying to protect Dean, I appreciate that”

“So, um…” I could feel Sam and Dean watching the scene, as well as Jack. “Are you a hunter too?”

“No” His voice was surprisingly deep. “I’m an….”

“Cas, wait” Sam tried to stop him, but wasn’t fast enough to cut off his sentence.

“Angel” Castiel finished, squinting his eyes and turning to Sam.

With the corner of my eye, I saw Dean throwing his hands up in frustration and letting them slap against his legs as they fell back to his sides.

“Well, she was probably wondering how he appeared himself like freaking Harry Potter, so…”

“Apparated”

“What?”

“It’s not appeared, it’s apparated” Sam corrected him, earning a glare from his brother.

“Whatever” Dean’s face of exasperation was so funny that I would have laughed if it wasn’t because I was still a little tense.

“Wait, you’re an… angel?” I repeated, feeling how my heart literally skipped a beat again at the thought that such creatures existed. “Literally an angel?”

“Y-Yes…” He turned to Dean now, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t understand, isn’t Brooke someone we can trust in?”

“She is, Cas, but…”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Brooke is just…” Jack piped up for the first time. “She’s still getting used to everything”

“Oh” Castiel straightened up his back and settled his blue eyes on me. “I’m sorry”

“I…” I let out a chuckle of pure disbelief. “I’m not trying to disrespect you, Mr. Castiel, but… how do I know you’re an actual angel? It’s hard enough that I’m starting to get used to the idea of vampires but… angels?”

Castiel didn’t say anything at first, but I noticed how Sam and Dean grew slightly tense. The first’s broad shoulders stiffened, so I watched the alleged angel, expecting a reaction.

I gasped when a high-pitched noise suddenly echoed around us. By the grimaces on the boy’s faces, I could tell I wasn’t the only one to hear it. And just as I wondered where the sound originated from, a blinding light emanated from Castiel.

“No way…” I whispered, watching how the supernatural and quite angelical light projected his silhouette against the wall behind him, except for a tiny little detail. There were wings on it too.

His whole face had been illuminated and his eyes shone with a more intense blueish tone. Once the light withered, the noise died down with it. Castiel’s face resembled a human one again as his eyes focused on me once more.

“Wow… Oh, my gosh…” I clumsily reached out around me, searching for any sort of support, feeling myself breathing heavily. Jack fidgeted around and restlessly positioned himself next to me, but I held on to the stairs railing.

“Brooke?” Sam asked me, and when I looked up at him I saw him staring. “You good?”

“Y-Yeah, I… I think so…” I smiled in spite of it all, suddenly overwhelmed by a warm feeling of safety and comfort. Angels were real! I literally had an angel watching over me and Jack. “I just have an actual angel in front of me”

“You’re not gonna faint on us, are you?” Dean squeezed my shoulder, making me look at him.

“N-No, I’m alright” I reluctantly separated myself from the railing, even if my legs were a bit shaky. “I’m fine, I promise”

“Well, thanks for coming, Cas” Dean patted his back in a familiar gesture.

“Wait” Sam watched how Jack and Castiel walked away talking amongst them. “You wanted to talk to me and Dean, right?”

“Oh, yeah…” I chuckled, watching them both. “I almost forgot after I met the angel”

Dean smirked, briefly looking over to Castiel. Then he rested a hand on the table and leaned on it.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I, uh… Well, I wanted to make sure it’s okay for me to stay here”

“Of course” Sam frowned, kindly tapping my arm. “We told you, Brooke, you can stay here as long as you need to”

“I know, I know, and I appreciate it” I shyly looked away, feeling like they were being too nice. “I’m just… not ready to go out yet? But I’d hate to be a bother and…”

“Look, kid” Dean cut me off, and I felt his green eyes intently watching me. “We don’t want you going out there either, especially if you’re scared”

“And you’re no bother at all” Sam shook his head a little. “We’re happy to have you here”

“Thank you, guys” I smiled at them, wondering what I did to deserve such treatment. “For everything, I mean it, I’m… I owe you”

Dean patted my arm effusively, making me wobble a bit. I still felt too shy to hold their glances.

“No problem, buy me a yacht and we’ll be square”

I laughed a little at his joke, and they were both grinning too when I looked up at them. I then noticed Dean was wearing a suit too. They looked quite different, almost like they were different people from the ones that saved me from a vampire attack.

“Can I ask why are you wearing suits?” I couldn’t really contain my curiosity.

“Know how to keep a secret?” Dean whispered confidentially.

“Duh” I had learned about vampires and stuff, but that didn’t mean I would tell anyone. Sam chuckled at my response.

“We’re passing as FBI agents” They both got something out of their pockets and showed it to me. Fake badges, even if as far as I knew they could be real. They had the logo, the names and the pictures and everything.

“Agents… Page and Plant?” I squinted my eyes as I read their fake names.

“Yeah” Sam eyed me strangely. “You don’t know who they are?”

“Not really, no…” Dean seemed almost offended that I didn’t. “S-Sorry…!”

“Do yourself a favor” He muttered with a scowl. “Go to my room later and put any vinyl that says ‘Led Zeppelin’ on the record player”

“I promise I’ll do my homework” I nodded, taking a mental note of the name of the band.

“Well, gotta go” Sam began walking towards the corridor, probably to get his bag from the room. “Be good”

“Sure”

“And do your homework!”

“When you come back I’ll have an essay about Led Zeppelin’s music”

“Atta girl”

As they went back to gather the last of their stuff for their hunting trip, I reunited with the rest.

  I was left alone with Jack and Castiel. The three of us sat down around one of the wooden tables of the library. While they were both incredibly friendly, I felt like I was out of place there with them. They smiled at each other with a certain familiarity and I sensed they had a special connection. In fact, looking at one and the other, they looked very similar, were they related? They both had blue eyes and that soft innocent expression. Could that mean that Jack was an angel too? Did angels even have children? There were so many things I didn’t know!

“Brooke, is something wrong?” Castiel asked me, making me realize I had been staring at him, tilting my head in deep thought.

“What? No, it’s nothing…” I sat down in the table, unable to stop staring at him. A real fricking angel! It was fascinating. “Actually, could I please ask you something?”

“Of course” He sat down and Jack imitated him. Even their gestures were alike.

“Do all angels kinda… teleport?”

Castiel showed me a kind smile, surely realizing I was about to ask more than that.

“Yes, they can”

“Cool!”

It felt exhilarating to know all that. Heck, learning about angels was probably better than anything I could find out about any other creatures. The fact that angels existed gave me hope, seeing that such pure and kind creatures were real just like those other aggressive creatures were.

“And that from before…” I waved my arms around, mimicking wings. “Was that… your angelical form or something?”

“It was my true form, yes” He rested his hands intertwined over the table. “Angels, like many others creatures, need of a body to be able to walk the Earth”

“A body?”

“A vessel, which has to consent to letting us in”

Welp, there went my theory that Jack was Castiel’s son and also an angel like him. Even if they both kind of exuded the same kind of calm and bright energy.

“So… that man is your vessel? Is he still in there?”

“He was… His name was Jimmy Novak, I… It’s a long story”

“Oh, sorry” Whoops, I thought I should change the subject. “So how long have you known Sam and Dean?”

“A long time” A new smile formed on his lips as he averted his eyes in deep thought.

“Let me guess” I grinned, exchanging a glance with Jack that only widened my smile when I saw he was smiling too. “It’s a long story too”

“As a matter of fact, it is” I didn’t think Castiel caught the joke, but I didn’t mind.

“So if angels are real… does that mean God is too?” Castiel fondly smiled at my many excited questions.

“Yes, he is my father”

“Whoo! Ooh, boy!”

As I thought of the next question I wanted to ask him, I looked over to Jack, who watched Castiel and intently listened to his every word. I related to the way Jack looked at him, because it was probably the way I looked at Sam and Dean.

Tagging: @thoughtfulcollectormaker, @xionroxas, @snowfire71

#here comes the sun #hcts #story #fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural story #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn story #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester #jack kline #castiel #oc #no reader insert

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

 "You should stay with him tonight," Thomas whispered in James's ear.

 James pulled back. "Oh? And where will you be?"

 "In our bed, sleeping peacefully, I should think."

 James gave him a long look. "You could join us, you know."

 "No," Thomas said, kissing behind James's ear. "Not yet. He's not...there yet."

 "But you are?" James held Thomas's head in his hands.

~

More summarized summary: Germs and pining. Snippetfic, silverflint/flinthamilton/silverflinthamilton. Angst, humor.

(snippet is over at AO3 too but like every other thing I’ve tried to post today anywhere on earth, the AO3 share function isn’t working correctly. wow this year! just keeps going.)

The knife clattering to the table punctuated the end of the paragraph Thomas was reading, and he sat his book aside.

"Carrots fighting back," he asked, "or are we about to be invaded?"

James was squinting out the window like he'd expected it to be sunny and fair instead of falling dark now for at least two solid hours. His posture was that of a man about to pick up the knife and charge at whatever attacker might kick down the door.

Of course it would be Silver arriving home for the evening. They hadn't seen him since the day before yesterday. He'd come home late and so had they. The sounds of him getting ready and leaving in the morning had been proof of his being alive and Thomas hadn't thought to worry. Before, anyway.

"What the hell happened to you?" James said the instant Silver had breached the doorway.

Silver paused in removing his outer garments only enough to throw him a puzzled glance. "Nothing?"

Thomas was puzzled as well, likely for different reasons.

James strode over and grasped Silver's shoulders, patting him down as Silver tried to finish unwinding his scarf. "Are you hurt somewhere else?"

The banked panic in James's tone would have amused Thomas if it hadn't been so plaintive.

Silver, for his part, continued to look baffled -- but also strangely younger than the last time Thomas had seen him.

"I'm not hurt at all," Silver said, shaking off James's grip. "Have you gone mad?"

"What the fuck happened to your beard?" James demanded. And then he hiccupped, as if hearing how histrionic his question had been.

Thomas took a sip of scotch and tried not to laugh out loud.

"I shaved it off two days ago," Silver said. He had hold of James's hands, to keep them otherwise off his body. "Well, the razor slipped, actually, while I was trying to trim one side, and my attempt to, um, even up the other side didn't really work, so anyway, it was just easier, in the end, to shave all of it off and start over."

James took back one hand to rub a thumb over the little scab low on Silver's right cheek. Thomas held his breath, watching the way that smallest of touches made Silver go utterly still, his eyes on James's as if they were negotiating the next salvo in some long-standing argument. Or: something else entirely.

Thomas could not quite believe how different the lack of beard -- well, the old beard of two days ago -- made Silver appear. Silver was young, younger than Thomas had realized; young with so little effort. It made Thomas feel desperately old, for reasons he could not begin to understand, while inversely the sight of James's hand cupping Silver's now only slightly rough jaw just made Thomas feel warm, like someone had snuck in and built roaring fires in every room, had lit three dozen candles in the kitchen alone.

James's voice was now tempered with something like wonder. "It's been a long time," he said to Silver, "since I have actually seen your face." He smiled, as though at some joke he and Silver shared.

Silver breathed out a small laugh. He still seemed a little confused, but game. "Well. It's been here the whole time." He broke the eye contact with James to wave at Thomas. "Good evening, Mr. Hamilton."

His eyes were exceptionally blue, Thomas thought. But he'd known that already, hadn't he?

"Good evening, Mr. Silver. Nice to see you."

James spent the rest of the evening glancing at Silver with barely concealed lust that far outpaced anything the lively debate over card games should have caused. (Thomas was officially on the record as finding lanterloo stupid.) Silver didn't mind James's attention, Thomas could tell. But within Silver's return glances were also an odd sort of timidity that ought to have been out of place by this stage in his relationship with James. Silver, Thomas deduced, was good at pretending, and in the absence of the need to do that he was being forced to confront the continual fact of someone's genuine desire. Thomas almost wanted to tease him about it.

That was not all Thomas increasingly wanted.

"You should stay with him tonight," Thomas whispered in James's ear.

James pulled back. "Oh? And where will you be?"

"In our bed, sleeping peacefully, I should think."

James gave him a long look. "You could join us, you know."

"No," Thomas said, kissing behind James's ear. "Not yet. He's not...there yet."

"But you are?" James held Thomas's head in his hands.

Well, Lord Hamilton, are you? In the corner of the kitchen Silver was putting away bowls and trying not to look like he was eavesdropping. Thomas felt a surge of affection for him.

"Soon," he told James. He picked up his papers and pen and bottle of ink. "Goodnight, Mr. Silver," he said on the way out.

"Goodnight, Mr. Hamilton," Silver called back.

From the hall Thomas could see James take Silver's hand, could see Silver's mouth just before James kissed it.

Soon, Thomas thought again, and closed the door.

~

James snuck in an hour or two before dawn and climbed in bed rumpled and positively glowing.

Thomas rolled over and grinned at him. "Exhausted, love?" James gave a noncommittal hum and rubbed his hand up under Thomas's nightshirt. "Ah. Would you like to be?"

James smiled, very wickedly.

~

The next evening, as occasionally occurred, Thomas and Silver's paths crossed in town and they made the walk home together.

"You returned to this godforsaken wasteland on purpose?"

When Silver spoke, his words echoed, both literally and with incredulousness. His disbelief was warranted, Thomas thought; the weather had turned brutal in the last hour, and the two of them were picking their way to the house on a path half snowed and half iced over, against wind cutting down through the trees like a sword wielded by an angry, clumsy giant.

"I missed the long hours of English sunlight," Thomas said, as though musing on it, and took pleasure in the sputtered laugh Silver made.

(What had he missed? Miranda, James. Mornings of woolen fog and tea served in delicate china; fat, inquisitive robins perched on branches, who would quirk their small heads from side to side if he whistled at them from an open window; the corner of the garden behind his father's house, where the cabbage rose bushes crowded out the cobblestone path; his sister Pene, and the way she jabbed -- not dabbed -- at her watercolors when enraged with one tutor or another, which had been most of the time. Debates with guests who raised their voices to argue for or against his points, sloshing wine out of exquisite long-stemmed glasses. The bustle on London streets, and the quiet in his old study where he had once gone to his knees and made James blush and swear and relent. The festive scent of plum pottage served by the old cook, Fiona; Fiona herself, and the jolly way she used to bang her wooden spoon on the lip of the iron pot, barely missing his fingers as he tried to sneak a bit of beef. He missed polished wooden floors, candles trimmed by servants, fussy hors d'oeuvres. He missed his life sometimes, and sometimes hated that he missed it, because much of it had been bought with more blood than he could ever atone for.)

An icicle from a tree branch stabbed itself into the snow piled to Thomas's left. At the same moment Silver slipped, and steadied himself by bringing Thomas to a fast halt with a hand like a vise around Thomas's elbow, which hurt. It would be worse if one or both of them fell: this logic led Thomas to put an arm around Silver's waist and haul him toward the house. By the time they were at the doorstep the idea had proven to be a regrettable one, since Silver was making a truly indescribable noise, his crutch was dragging the ground like a claw, and Thomas was exhausted.

"You sound like a mangy cat my grandfather once tried to bathe," James commented, upon opening the door for them.

Thomas pushed Silver at him, and slammed the door shut with a satisfying whump. "He is heavier than a cat."

Silver started, "I didn't ask--"

"Shall I put you back?" Thomas discovered there was no way to take off his coat and scarf without a spray of melting ice pellets flying from his body. Most of them hit Silver, which was gratifying.

James had stepped away, leaving Silver propped against the kitchen table, where he had enough balance to take off his own coat in as violent a manner as possible. Snow pelted Thomas as though he had not succeeded in closing the door.

"No biting," James called out from wherever in the house he had taken himself off to, the scoundrel.

Narrowing his eyes at Silver, Thomas advanced slowly. Silver did not cower; he pushed himself up to full height, everything about his expression a dare. Thomas took a second to be impressed, since he held no illusions about what Silver was capable of if threatened. Thomas wondered if Silver would be shocked at what Thomas was capable of -- he doubted it. They had seemed from the beginning to recognize something about each other, voiced or not; they were not men to be trifled with.

The lump of snow that had coagulated in a fold of Thomas's scarf created such a perfect weapon he was almost sorry to destroy it by crushing it on top of Silver's head, and the rules of genteel behavior should probably have dictated he not afterwards try to dash away. Nevertheless. Live for the moment, that was one of Thomas's mottos in his new life.

Possibly Silver had more experience putting such things into practice. He was far more talented with that crutch than Thomas had anticipated. The crutch did wind up under the table, but so did Thomas. Somehow. He'd lost a few seconds of comprehension in the descent. By the time James wandered back into the room Silver had sat down in the nearest chair and Thomas had regained the ability to take a full breath.

"Actually, maybe biting would have worked out better for you," James suggested.

The floor was hard against Thomas's back. When he stretched his legs out his spine seemed to crack in an agreeable way. "I was only trying to help." He reached over to unbuckle Silver's boot, on the theory that while he was down there he may as well make himself useful.

"By hitting me with a snowball?" Silver asked.

"By getting you into the house in one piece, before you caused us both to break a hip."

Silver wiggled his foot out of the boot. "Ah. Yeah." He held out a hand, and Thomas let him pull him up to a sitting position.

"Well?" Thomas said. He narrowed his eyes at Silver again.

"All right, yes." Silver scratched at his jaw. "Thank you, Mr. Hamilton, for your valuable assistance traversing the inclement elements," he muttered while looking anywhere but at Thomas.

"You're welcome, Mr. Silver." Thomas used Silver's leg as leverage to stand up. His elbow was still his sorest point, so there was a valuable lesson, he supposed. Why they weren't having Silver chop wood more often was beyond him.

It was easy, possibly too easy, to brush the last remnants of snow out of Silver's hair as he passed by. Out of the corner of his eye Thomas could see James watching him -- and not smiling but wanting to smile -- and Thomas flicked the snow off his fingers with as much nonchalance as he could muster. Thomas was almost out of reach when Silver wrapped one of his freakishly strong hands around Thomas's elbow again; Silver's grip was gentler this time. If the gesture wasn't exactly an apology, it was, Thomas thought, close enough to count.

Silver kept hanging on.

"Yes?" Thomas asked.

Silver peered at him. "Do you feel well?"

Bit of a bruised ego but all in all right as a line, Thomas started to say. James was beside him with a cool hand on his forehead, and a concerned wrinkle sketched between his eyes.

"You have a fever," James said, sounding shocked.

"Oh." Thomas patted Silver's hand, then kissed James's cheek. "That might why be I'm so bloody tired." He felt heavy and irritatingly hot, as if from nowhere: one minute hale and the next hobbled.

James said, "You should rest. I could bring you a bite to eat in bed. Do not say something lewd in response."

Silver let go of Thomas, smiling as he rolled his eyes at James. "May I assist anyone?"

"Hmm," James said, before kissing Thomas's cheek in turn.

Then he and Silver set to tasks as though able to read each other's minds, a thought that might have frightened Thomas more if they had not proven in the past to be so spectacularly bad at it when it came to certain things. Thomas took himself out of the kitchen and indeed put himself in bed. He listened to their knocking around each other as they chopped food and chatted and took what was surely a brief interlude for kissing, before Silver said "SHIT," and James -- it was obviously James -- raced from one point to another and the sound of a lid being thrown on a pot rang throughout. Thomas meant to stay awake just a while longer, just to see what they might bring him for sustenance. James laughed at something, and Silver said something in response that made him laugh again.

Thomas fell asleep against the pillows.

In the morning, he woke first, his fever discarded. James was plastered to his side in large part by Silver pinning him against Thomas, and neither of them stirred a bit. For some reason, from nowhere, he remembered Miranda's hair like iron gall ink spilt across a white sheet, her eyes sharp as she recited, "'Past cure I am, now reason is past care, and frantic-mad with evermore unrest.'" He missed her, oh; he missed their life.

Slowly the knife-edge of the memory faded, such that he could think of her without cutting himself on it. James spread his hand on Thomas's stomach; Silver made a soft trill like he was being surprised in a dream. Thomas watched them wake as dawn lit up the room, James blinking and Silver stretching, the bed creaking, everything muffled and warm. What would I pay to have the past again, Thomas asked himself. Would I be able to give this -- them -- back? There were no bargains to be made.

James said, "Are you feeling better?"

"None the worse for a good night's rest," Thomas said. He kissed James's mouth, and rose to start the day.

~

A few days later it finally happened.

"It's none of my business," Silver said, and like most people who said that sort of thing then continued, "but I am curious. What made you return to England? Flint's not really said." He was unwrapping a wedge of Dorset blue and held it up like he'd expected it to be something else. "I can ever tell when this sort of cheese goes bad. It smells like moldy feet even when fresh."

Thomas took the second comment first, trying to recollect the rhyme. "Something, something, 'covered with scales, not weepy, white, or blind, but weighty and firm with a crusty rind.' Something like that."

Silver looked at him like he was insane.

"I vote we let James eat a piece and if he lives the cheese probably hasn't gone off," Thomas said. "We came back to England because it seemed. I don't know. Like the right place to start."

Silver crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter. "You didn't want to forge another path in the new world?"

Thomas steadied the wood he'd been stacking by the hearth. "It was never going to be as simple as all that, not for me. Not after. Well."

He rearranged a few of the logs to make the ones at the bottom a more stable foundation for the stack. What he felt about England, the colonies, what England had done; what his father had done and how he had benefited from it-- What England was continuing to do; the new world; those roughly ten years of his life struggling to stay alive, to figure out a way to wrench himself free again-- His feelings on each and every topic seemed to change five times an hour, and the harder he tried to grasp something final on the matter the more they seemed to fly through his fingers like chaff. The escape had been one thing, the journey to England something else.

He had wanted to come back because he could not stay where he was; it hadn't meant he would stay in England forever, or that he would force James to. And eventually, Thomas thought, a path would present itself. Before, he'd considered himself tenacious. Bold, perhaps. He hadn't always felt brave. He had mostly felt compelled, destined; propelled forward to progress and for progress. He had been a man who marched forward, and the world had seemed to welcome his advances.

...Until it hadn't.

There were only so many truths he believed in his marrow now. He loved James; James loved him.

"I'll confess, I haven't quite figured everything out, nor what I hope to achieve now we're in England again. It has been a mercy, of a sort, to not have to have an answer right away." He slapped wood dust from his hands. "That could change eventually; for now, this is home."

And you are part of that, Mr. Silver, Thomas didn't say.

When he looked over Silver wore a thoughtful expression. "What?" Thomas asked.

Silver shook his head. "You're." He shook his head again. "You keep not being what I expected." He said it like he knew it was an admission of something. He cleared his throat a little. "In some ways."

"Thank you?" Thomas wondered which pieces of himself appeased some prior speculation Silver had made. "It's. Mutual." Thomas chose not to elaborate on that.

Silver didn't seem to mind; he'd returned to poking at the cheese with his knife-tip. Perhaps Thomas was imagining it but something bleak seemed to have washed over Silver's face.

"When you do decide what to do with the rest of your life, you mustn't not leave if you need to," Silver said quietly.

Thomas wasn't certain he'd followed that. "I--"

"Not that you need my permission either way," Silver said. "But if you ever need to leave, to storm the palace or what-have-you, leave. He'll follow you, without question."

Without thinking, Thomas replied, "I've no preliminary plans to start an insurrection, but if we ever leave, you're coming with us."

Silver stilled. When he looked at Thomas again, Thomas looked back with as much composure as possible.

He'd meant what he said, and he hoped Silver would interpret it as a simple statement of fact instead of a threat -- although, in a way, it was the sort of promise that could be construed as less than benign. Thomas was striving to be a good person, and on the other hand he would be, if not happy, then immensely capable of denying Silver a variety of God-given freedoms if it meant James would not suffer. And James would suffer, greatly, were he parted from Silver again.

Thomas could practically hear Silver running through various scenarios in his head, fast as a hare tearing through underbrush to escape a fox. He liked that about him, that mercurial cleverness, and had to acknowledge he would be foolish to suppose he could best Silver at any number of challenges, should it come to that. Thomas was determined to leave his own naivety as far in the past as possible and perhaps a wiser man would already have plotted the means by which to secure as much of a coveted future as possible; some might implore him to never assume Silver would fit, or could be corralled, into such plans.

But Thomas could see Silver's eyes. Those were the eyes of someone terrified at the mere thought of hurting James again. You are spending too much time, Thomas told himself, looking into those eyes. A smaller voice said, James isn't the only person he's scared of hurting -- and don't be daft, of course you know the others aren't only himself and Madi.

Silver blinked slowly. He'd seen something on Thomas's face.

"To clarify, I should say James and I have no intention of absconding with you to other places of residence at this time," Thomas said, attempting to lighten the mood, "but should our circumstances change you will be given plenty of notice in which to tie up any loose ends you may have here, write to Madi -- to let her know the rebellion's rendezvous point, since you know she'll want in on that -- make arrangements for the tavern, pack up the house, that sort of thing. No bolting in the dead of night for us." Charming, Lord Hamilton; you used to be charming.

"I look forward to appreciating your courtesy on the matter," Silver said, tone very dry, "when, as you say, such a time arrives."

Thomas picked at the spine of the book he'd brought home. Samuel Hooke, the local bookbinder, had demonstrated to Thomas that morning the sewing of end bands. Thomas mostly just wanted to know how to bind books so that he could make some for his own library. Samuel, aged 85, had been a teacher and took bookbinding seriously. His wife Ina was doting and chatty. Thomas liked them both very much.

(They had no idea who he'd been, and for the time being he rather liked that too.)

"Fables?" Silver asked, sitting down with a plate of grapes.

"Folk tales." Thomas opened the cover to show off the marbled end papers.

Further conversation on the subject was disrupted by James throwing open the door. As he came in he was chomping at the air, contorting his face as though possessed by demons, and tugging at his earlobes.

"What the hell," Silver said, eyes wide.

"You sound like you're in a cave," James said. He sounded like he'd spent all day screaming, which was not, as far as Thomas knew, a regular requirement of ship building. "My stomach itches."

It was such a bizarre thing for James to say Silver gaped at him like a fish.

Thomas took the lead, standing to help James out of his coat. "Oh dear. You're sick." He brushed James's hair back from his eyes. James's forehead could've cooked an egg.

"I hate being sick," James said as Thomas walked him into the bedroom.

After undressing and leaving most of his clothes on the floor, James was taking up the entire bed by lying across it diagonally. He was also shivering and writhing like he'd had too many cups of too strong tea. He'd been increasingly pitiful as the evening progressed. Thomas, sorting out the discarded clothes, was sympathetic and entertained both. He would not, however, be able to sleep in the tiny unoccupied wedge of mattress James wasn't flailing around on. Silver was coming to a similar conclusion.

"These pillows are prickly," James said. He punched at one with a weak fist and a few downy goose feathers puffed up into the air.

Silver gave Thomas a look. James's legs were twisted up in one of the blankets. It took a deal of strength for Thomas to unwind it out from under him, and James groaned like Thomas was doing him no favors. Silver left the room just as James tried to roll over and only Thomas prevented James's skull from being split on the edge of the bedside table.

"Could you help," Thomas said as Silver returned with more blankets and pillows.

Silver let the armload fall to the floor and plucked a pillow from the pile. "This one is softer," he explained to James, taking away the hated pillow and putting the new one under James's sweaty, irritable head.

James thrashed around some more and threw off his blanket. The chattering of his teeth could clearly be heard.

"We could just smother him," Silver suggested.

"Noooo," James said, as though anyone were seriously considering it.

Thomas toed the pile of extra blankets on the floor. "What are we doing with these?"

"Thought I'd sleep in here." Silver was trying to tie his hair back with string and his hair was behaving about as well as James.

Those delinquent curls were distracting. Thomas made himself focus. "Sleep in here where?"

"On the floor."

"Really."

"I've slept rough on far worse. Imagine you may have as well." Silver managed to get most of his hair pulled back, save one missed lock. Thomas's fingers itched to tuck it behind his ear.

James had thrown an arm over his eyes like a lady swooning in a terrible theatrical.

Silver took a patient breath and knelt down beside him in what had to have been an uncomfortable position. "Do you need some water?" he asked James. "Or perhaps some opium?"

James perked up. "Do you have some opium?"

"No." Silver's mouth was a line set grim.

"No fair," James said.

Silver stood up gracefully. "He'll be fine," he told Thomas, and then set about making a pallet on the floor between the bed and the room's small hearth.

Thomas busied himself fetching mugs of water and a wet cloth for James. When he arrived back in the room Silver had completely taken away the first pillow James had tried to mangle. Whatever had happened in the three minutes Thomas was in the kitchen had resulted in an isolated snowstorm of feathers. Silver gave Thomas another look and went back to raking the feathers into a pile, which he stuffed into the remnants of the pillow, before tossing the lot under the bed to be dealt with, presumably, another time.

"Please close your eyes and try to rest," Silver said, unfolding another blanket on top of James.

Thomas laid the cool wet cloth across James's hot forehead and patted him on the chest.

"Where are you going?" James asked.

"We'll be right over here," Thomas said, hoping Silver wouldn't be surprised they'd be sharing a pallet. "Try to sleep, love." He kissed James's cheek and James nodded, eyes already slipping shut, like he'd be dreaming soon.

"Hearth side, or bed side?" Silver asked. He was lowering himself to the floor.

"No preference." Thomas waited for him to stretch out in front of the hearth before sitting down beside him.

The wooden floor was not made appreciably softer by the padding of a quilt and a blanket but it would do. Silver was right: Thomas had passed more than one night on far worse surfaces. No good reason to dwell on it, Thomas told himself. Silver laid down, curled on his side facing away from the small fire. It felt oddly rude to lie down with his back to him, so Thomas curled on his side facing Silver. That one loose lock of hair proved too tempting -- he tucked it behind Silver's ear and took his hand back right away. Silver blinked at him, sleepiness showing in shadows under his eyes, and for a few minutes everything was peaceful.

Then: "'Of the same metals they likewise make chains and fetters for their slaves.'" A grumble as James scooched around on the mattress. "Listen, Thomas, go fuck yourself."

Thomas meant to explain, in an aside, that he was not the author of or reason for James's recitation. Before he could, Silver pinched the bridge of this nose and said, "Should we expect him to critique Utopia's shortcomings all evening, do you think?"

"Short," James said. Stopped up or not, he had ears like a bat. "Silver is shorter than I am and I am shorter than Thomas." He sounded fond. Thomas couldn't tell if he knew everyone else could hear him, but what did it matter. "Tuck tuck tuck, you can tuck Silver under your chin, you can nearly put him in your pocket." James cough-laughed. "But don't forget his enormous hands, ha. Which, mmm, made much more sense once I discovered his other, mmm, endowments. Blessings from the lord, ahh." He sounded fond and delirious.

Silver had put his enormous hands over his face by this point. Thomas couldn't really blame him.

"Thomas's is also, well, whew," James murmured, as though the topic required great thoughtfulness. Mournfully: "I missed him so much when he was dead." Less mournfully: "Also his prick."

Thomas and Silver looked at one another with stoic, somber expressions.

"Why are you on the floor?" James whined, because he had apparently just noticed where they were.

Silver sat up and looked at James with an expression of truly kind tolerance. "Mr. Hamilton and I were afraid the collective weight of our gigantic cocks would prove too much for the bed frame to bear."

What was breathing? Thomas didn't know. He was too busy crying with laughter with his hands over his mouth, as if that would stopper the sound. At some point Silver joined in, and it took them both several minutes to get themselves under control; they keep looking at each other in brief lulls and unhinged mirth would burble back up again like a newly tapped spring.

"Oh my god," Thomas whispered eventually, stomach sore. He was flat on his back, trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling until he thought he could go ten seconds without laughing. Silver seemed to be taking the same measures. In his peripheral vision Thomas could see him smiling and wiping his eyes.

Thomas counted to twenty and sat up to look over at James -- he was finally asleep, thank the saints. And not particularly pretty about it either, with his mouth open, his blankets wadded up again, and the last pillow somewhere other than on the mattress. Thomas let out a long breath, before going up on his knees to move over to the bed. He took the cloth off James's head and kissed him beside his eye. Satisfied James was in no further need of attention, he crawled to the pallet and laid back down.

Silver was curled on his side again, his gaze steady and soft. Thomas pulled their blanket up over both of them and closed his eyes.

James began to sing, off-key, "'Some cut their hats, and some cut their caps in the Neather-lands; some cut their hats, and some cut their caps in the Neather-lands, for to stop the salt-water gaps, sailing in the Low-lands...'"

It wasn't singing, per se. It was more like wallowing the words around in his mouth with a random Scottish accent.

"If he sings all forty verses, I'm leaving," Silver said, without opening his eyes.

Thomas sighed.

Five or six hours later he woke with Silver tucked up under his chin. It wasn't the first time Thomas had felt evidence of -- how had James put it? Silver's endowments? -- since the beds they often slept in were, after all, not very roomy. It was unfortunately too late for Thomas to will his body not to respond in kind.  

Someone dropped something in the kitchen and Silver jerked awake. He looked at Thomas for a only a second before scrambling to sit up. They blearily helped each other up off the floor. When they stumbled into the kitchen together they found James sitting there at the table healthy as a stable of horses, eating buttered brown bread and a mug of tea steaming away beside his plate. Silver ran his hands over his face while Thomas tried to stand up straight, to the absolute screaming fury of his lower back.

"You look awful," James said.

"Your fever broke," Thomas said, like it wasn't obvious.

"Yes." James nodded and chewed. "I slept strangely well."

There was a long pause.

"Kill him now or have breakfast first?" Silver asked Thomas finally.

"We'll try some of the new quince preserves," Thomas said, "before we decide."

~

James was fighting every instinct to be angry, and Thomas felt a swell of pride for him.

"Were you ever going to fucking grace us with your presence again, or have these last four days been your way of telling us to go and never look back?" James asked Silver.

Well. James's instincts were a work in progress. At least his tone had been mild. Thomas, as he often did, elected to not put himself in the middle, if only because he wanted to watch what would happen next.

(Also, putting away clean clothes was perhaps the only household chore Thomas liked doing. There was something comforting about a tidy drawer of freshly laundered shirts.)

Silver, for his part, did not seem ruffled, though he did seem off, somehow, and not just because he'd been like a ghost for the better part of a week, since James's one night of sickness.

"I thought the two of you might enjoy some quality alone time," Silver said. It was his scratchy voice that gave him away. That and how heavily he sat down on the edge of the bed, as though too tired to argue with James standing up.

"Are you ill?" James immediately knelt in front of Silver, frowning, reaching out to touch Silver's forehead.

"It's just a fever," Silver said, shaking him off. "We've all had fevers."

"Recently, even," Thomas said. "Apologies for that." It seemed whatever he'd brought into the house was determined to meet all residents.

Silver was wan, his eyes glittering. "Ada's also had this, and four of her five children." He waved a hand around. "Everyone's survived, don't be alarmed. We closed the tavern tonight and posted notices that we're staying closed for a few days out of an abundance of caution." He took a breath as if three whole sentences had exhausted him. "As they say."

James's hands were fidgeting; the effort he made to not touch Silver made Thomas's throat ache. "Do you need anything? Have you eaten?"

Silver shook his head. "I'm going to sleep, and no doubt will be better in the morning."

There was something in his manner Thomas could not place, something more than illness.

James had noticed too. He stood up to move to the mattress beside Silver, an arm around him as he nosed at Silver's hair. Silver was shivering. If he'd consumed anything in the last few days it had been a poor effort. Thomas felt again that pang of remorse, that while at most he had tolerated the malady for a few hours, it had intensified as it passed from him to James, and now, it seemed, from James to Silver. Finished in the bureau Thomas pulled the bedroom door shut and went to stir the fire.

Silver had his eyes closed tightly and held himself stiff, as if to blot out everything and everyone.

"John," James said very gently, "look at me."

Thomas laid the poker atop the mantel. He caught James's eye and felt almost as badly for him as for Silver. When Silver opened his eyes Thomas perceived some battle of wills, but couldn't for anything explain why it was occurring. The way Silver looked at James was so vulnerable it didn't seem a mere fever should be its origin. A creeping cold ran down Thomas's back. James had alluded to things he believed Silver might have endured long ago. Avicenna, that great thinker, believed fevers were 'kindled in the heart' -- a fine phrase, Thomas thought, and what he knew of Silver's heart was at once vast and minute. But Thomas knew longing, and fear, when he saw it.

"Do you want us to stay with you tonight?" James asked Silver.

Every second ticking by before Silver nodded seemed an eternity. He's this wary of our intentions, Thomas thought, because life has taught him to be.

And what has life taught you, Lord Hamilton? Pleated in the shadows Thomas could almost imagine any number of nightmares lurking, growing, ghouls he did not wish to confront. His wrists itched as if still bound. He thought of some of the men he'd known in the asylum, or in Savannah, their skittish eyes and resigned postures, their lonesomeness worn like a moskered cloak; how fragile they had seemed when he touched them, and when in their grasps how desperate his own release had been. It was much easier to simply refuse the past entry into this room where he was no longer being harmed, where James was alive and with him, where Silver needed them and the rest of the world could not intrude.

Silver said, "You have started wringing your hands the way Flint does. Or perhaps he learned it from you." His ruined voice was somehow tender.

It took Thomas a long moment to be able to look away from those burning blue eyes. "Come," he said to Silver and James, "it's too chilly in here to linger atop the blankets."

An hour later he wanted to kick himself for such a statement. Silver was asleep in his usual dead to the world sort of way, half curled on James, and James was sweating. Thomas knew better than to laugh about it. He sat on the mattress and laid a wet cloth on the back of Silver's neck -- just moving his hair aside Thomas could tell his fever had intensified, heat wafting off him like a sunbeam -- and another one on James's forehead.

"Thank you," James whispered, before wiping his whole face. He handed the cloth back to Thomas. "He's getting worse. Suggestions? And don't say Woodruff."

"Not sure bloodletting is required yet." Thomas laid a hand on Silver's back. Through the thin shirt Silver was eerily warm. "We could carry him outside. Or prop him up in the kitchen; without a fire burning it's almost as bad in there as being outside."

"Mr. Hamilton just wants to rub snow in my hair again," Silver rasped, pressing his face against James's chest.

"Yes, Mr. Silver," Thomas agreed. "Sounds like a plan." He kept his hand on Silver's back. "We didn't mean to wake you."

"Yes, we did," James said, moving around so that his sternum was being pierced by Silver's chin at a slightly different point than it had been. "You fell asleep mid-sentence."

"Sorry," Silver said, and then he was asleep again.

James fell asleep soon afterwards; Thomas went to the brisk kitchen with a blanket and read for another hour, returning when the words started to swim around on the pages like leeches. He tiptoed into the bedroom to find James awake again and Silver restless. Thomas took the washcloths away to rinse them. When he returned, he sat on the edge of the bed and wiped Silver's wrists and palms with a freshly wet cloth.

Silver was talking like Thomas had been there the whole time. "Everything Flint told me, there on the island. It all would have come true, you know," he murmured to Thomas. He was looking up, or back, at some invisible distance that must have been floating above the bed in whatever waking dream he was in.

What did he tell you? Thomas wanted to ask, curiosity flaring in his mind like a Roman candle, but as soon as he thought it -- and without even looking at James -- he could guess the sort of things James might have said. He wiped Silver's forehead. James sat up and brought Silver with him, such that Silver roused a little as James resettled them both. Thomas presumed James would have something to say; apparently not. Silver swayed against him like there was a tropical breeze lulling him back to sleep. James had on his determined-not-to-cry face, looking at Thomas helplessly. Thomas laid the cloth aside and moved up the mattress to sit with his back to the headboard. For lack of anything useful to do he rubbed Silver between his shoulder blades, keeping his touch light as Silver gave off a distressing amount of heat. Silver hummed, more a sigh than a note, and reached back with his left hand to clutch at Thomas's thigh.

Silver said something into James's shirt.

"Hmm?" James asked, smoothing a hand down his arm.

"A tether," Silver said. Or at least that's what it sounded like he said. There was also a yawn in there.

Thomas didn't know what tethers had to do with anything, other than the obvious fact of the three of them in the bed like drowsy links in a chain, day by day bound more tightly together by more than close proximity. Silver was looking at James with one of those lost, unfocused expressions that made Thomas feel short of breath.

"I miss her," Silver said. "But."

"I know," James replied, kissing his forehead.

"But. She knew because I told her," Silver said, as though it explained anything, "it wasn't them. The crew. But later. I didn't tell her... Because it was her, or I thought it was her. I thought. She would be enough."

He looked over at Thomas, like this was a lucid conversation they were having. "You understand," Silver said. His eyes glimmered with fever.

Thomas felt a rush of empathy for Silver strong enough to make it hard to speak. "It was James all along," he told Silver, "wasn't it?"

Silver nodded, closed his eyes, pressed his face against James.

"It what? All along what?" James said, sounding comically disoriented.

"He's loved you a very long time," Thomas said to James quietly.

"Oh," James said, before ducking his face into Silver's hair.

"He hasn't, of course, loved you as long as I have," Thomas said. "But we cannot fault him for having not met you earlier."

James gazed at Thomas. He laid his hand at the juncture of Thomas's neck and shoulder; it provided a restful weight. Tethered, Thomas thought. Silver slept against James and James was touching Thomas and Thomas kept his hand, still, on Silver's back. Thomas also kept his eyes on James, with James sweeping his thumb against his collarbone and James's dimple about to show.

"What?" Thomas whispered, almost certain he knew what James was thinking.

James kept gazing, pleased, but said nothing. Thomas had never been a good liar. There was a heartbeat beneath his palm that he already knew he would miss when he took his hand away. They stayed that way until Thomas lost track of the time, and sleep pulled them all down into its depths again.

~

"Are you all right?" James kneaded the back of Thomas's neck and sat down beside him at the kitchen table.

Silver's fever had broken in the last few hours. Thomas and James were letting him sleep.

"I have been thinking about the staff at my father's house," Thomas said. He threaded his fingers through James's. "They were kind to me when I was a child. They were supposed to be kind to me, of course. I was an Important Legacy." He laughed a bitter little laugh. "But do you know, I believed they loved me. Even now, even knowing what I know -- how complicated, how compromised that love might have been. They were servants, most from families of servants. It's all they had ever known or hoped to know of employment or advancement. They took care of me, not just my nursemaid or tutors, but the footmen, the maids, cooks, our butler William. The gardener and his wife Maria." He squeezed James's hand and James squeezed back, watching him as he spoke. "It was a lousy lot they drew. The house was safe, they were given the means to earn what they needed to survive, yes, but it wasn't-- None of it was theirs, and they had no real say in the matter. And yet. And yet, I believe they loved me, taught me, fed me, played with me, smiled kindly at me not because I was the eldest son of an important man, but because I was a child, an innocent child. I have never known a day when I was not loved. I knew love when I saw it, experienced it." James looked as ready to cry as Thomas felt. "I knew you loved me, that Miranda loved me; that I loved you, and her. I never once doubted either of you, all those years."

James waited a minute. He thumbed a tear out from beneath Thomas's eye. "Why have you been thinking about this?"

Thomas pictured Silver asleep in their bed, eyelashes dark against his pale cheeks. "Someone hurt him, didn't they? When he was just a child. And it shaped his whole life."

He didn't say Silver's name. He didn't need to.

Thomas sighed in an elaborate way. "And then, god help him, he met you."

"Hey," James said. But he was smiling, small and rueful. He held on to Thomas's hand.

"I'm glad we're here," Thomas said.

~

Silver had recovered in another few days. He moved more gingerly for a while, like his bad leg ached more than usual, and he was slow to regain an appetite. Otherwise he emerged unscathed. James fussed over him, and Thomas chose to leave them alone on the fourth afternoon, hoping that like the fever James's anxious grouchiness would burn itself out before Silver had to throttle him.

Thomas explored a patch of forest nearby, where the ice had dwindled to only a few scabby patches here and there and the ground was damp but not sloppy. He worked up a sweat hiking back up a brambly hill and scraped his arm against a pine tree trunk that had appeared from nowhere. (Pay attention, Thomas told himself.) When he was back on the road to the house he took a couple of deep breaths of cold air and felt more awake than he had in an age.

He returned home to find James thankfully in a less fretful mood and Silver looking brighter, with color in his features.

"That poor higgler Jean tells us the Adley farm is to be sold next week," Silver said in greeting.

This was news to Thomas. "Ina will be interested in that."

"She wants a farm? Isn't she's 107 years old?" James asked.

"She's a woman of a distinguished age. I believe their son-in-law may have designs on becoming a land owner," Thomas said.

"Don't we all." James kept sharpening his favorite butcher knife.

"Apparently he's done well for himself in Sussex." Thomas picked up a new purchase that was sitting on the counter. "Was our other masher inadequate?"

"I took it to the tavern and never saw it again," Silver said.

"Ah." Thomas rolled up his shirt sleeve and poked at his scrape. It looked like the sort of thing a youth would acquire falling out of a tree.

Silver and James each seemed abruptly to notice Thomas was injured. There was purpose in the way Silver picked his way over to the hutch wedged in the corner of the room. Items rattled as he searched for something; he moved a crock to a lower shelf and reached up to the back of the top shelf. A pestle rolled out and bonked him in the head. James joined him, though Thomas was certain he had no idea what Silver was looking for. Being an inch or two taller should count for something, right?

"I almost have it," Silver said, refusing to move aside as James crowded in.

"Here," James said, reaching over him.

It didn't work as well as he'd probably expected, because it knocked Silver off balance and Silver briefly stepped on James's foot with his peg.

"Could you not," Silver said between gritted teeth.

"Ow," James said.

Thomas joked, "No daylight between you."

James whipped around.

"Same cloth, same coin, same blade. I couldn't separate the two of you with a hatchet and a team of wild oxen," Thomas said, feeling uneasily like this wasn't an exaggeration.

James took a breath to respond -- maybe even to deny? -- when Silver groused, "What are you on about? Ah-ha!" He turned, a ceramic jar held out in his palm. He was smiling in triumph.

Whatever he saw on Thomas's face made his smile fade. He locked eyes with Thomas and Thomas felt his stomach lift.

"I could no more separate the two of you," Silver said, tipping his head to Thomas and then to James, "than I could pluck the sun out of the fucking sky."

Thomas blinked. "What--"

"You're his heart, Thomas," Silver said.

The words, so softly spoken, crashed over Thomas like a storm-driven wave. His eyes burned, for a moment, as he looked at Silver, looked at James; as they looked at each other and then him. Watching Silver now as Silver stared back Thomas began to smile. He bit his lip to prevent it from getting out of hand.

"Would you like some help?" Silver asked, holding up the jar.

"What is that?" Thomas asked, sitting down in the chair James had vacated.

Silver pulled another chair closer to Thomas. James poured himself a drink of rum, splashing some in two more mugs. After clunking his mug against James's Silver downed his rum in one swallow. Thomas, eyeing James, sipped his. Something had shifted, Thomas thought; they were coming to a precipice.

He turned his focus to Silver. "It's green," he said when Silver took off the jar lid. "It even smells green."

"Elder leaves," Silver said. His small grin was crooked. "Well, four parts lard and two parts suet."

"So, fat and fat," Thomas said.

"To three parts elder. Good for sprains and bruises and grievances inflicted upon one's person." Silver scooted nearer.

Thomas pushed up his bloody sleeve and bent his arm, still watching Silver.

Silver dipped his fingers in the ointment and smoothed a glob of it gently up Thomas's arm. Thomas winced and Silver mouthed, "Sorry." He ran his fingers along the scrape several times, until the salve had started to soak in. He sat back to survey his handiwork. Finding it satisfactory, he dipped his left middle finger into the jar to bring out a dab.

He scooted ever closer, until like a puzzle piece his knees and Thomas's were somewhat interlocked. With the pad of his finger he patted at something below Thomas's eye.

Thomas placed a hand on Silver's shoulder. "Didn't realize there was another scratch." The ointment stung a bit. He remembered being smacked in the face with an oak limb earlier, at the beginning of the day's walk.

"Only a little one. You likely won't go blind from it." Silver wiped his hands on his trousers and put the lid back on the jar.

Thomas saw it when Silver realized just how closely to Thomas he was sitting. The light cleared in Silver's eyes; his mouth parted as he inhaled. Oh, Thomas thought. Hello. He tightened his hand, then skimmed it along Silver's shoulder to slip his fingers into Silver's hair. (Oh. Yes. It was still the most luxurious hair.) Thomas leaned further into Silver, drawing their heads closer together. Silver did not pull away.

"Thank you, Mr. Silver," Thomas said, quietly thrilling at the way Silver's eyes had darkened.

Silver smiled at him without actually smiling. "You're welcome, Mr. Hamilton." He paused for a second, then brushed his mouth against Thomas's, the touch so light it could almost have been mistaken for something other than a kiss.

What Thomas returned to Silver was a kiss equally light, brief, and again perhaps someone, had they wished to, could have described it as accidental, or incidental, or merely friendly. Careful, Thomas thought. You must be careful. He kept his forehead against Silver's for a moment, letting Silver decide, and their third kiss was quick, practically chaste. But the fourth one: Thomas suddenly had Silver's head cupped in his hands and Silver was pressing ever closer, opening to Thomas on an almost silent gasp. Thomas had to close his eyes against the sweetness of it. When he slid his tongue into his mouth Silver made a quiet, wounded sound, and Thomas flushed hot as if he'd awakened on an island beneath merciless sunshine. He hadn't felt his own thirst so acutely since the moment he'd first seen James again. Silver's seemed to match Thomas's; his mouth was nearly painfully soft, his beard rough, and one of his hands was wandering lower. By the time he reached Thomas's--

"I am going into the bedroom now," James said in a loud, impatient voice.

Thomas and Silver broke apart to stare at him and pant.

James's left eyebrow said some very tawdry things. "I trust you'll both be joining me."

"Yes?" Thomas said, feeling astonishingly overheated. He mustered the courage to look at Silver.

Silver looked every ounce as bothered. He also looked unguarded, and kiss-bitten. He nodded at Thomas and then looked to James. "Yes," he said. He looked back at Thomas. "Yes."

Thomas took two seconds to say, "Oh thank fuck," before kissing him again.

#my continual struggle with technology and coherency #fic #silverflint #silverflinthamilton #black sails

[snowstcrm]

Bare Her Own Fangs

In which Jon encourages Daenerys to wield a weapon of her own.

He had expected a bit more reluctance on her part, but it had been surprisingly easy to convince the Dragon Queen to spare him just an hour of her time a night to learn the basics of weapon-wielding. Perhaps she would have put up more of a fight against him before Viserion had been ripped away from her. He didn’t know what lay in the recesses of her mind, however he could tell she was far more humbled and worried about her children than when he had first met her. She might even be scared for them. Maybe she didn’t want to depend on them too much. If she could hold her own even a little, then her children wouldn’t have to jump in and protect her for every single danger. Perhaps she didn’t want to be the reason for one of the remaining two being killed. There were many reasons why she could have accepted his offer, he was sure. Maybe it was something as simple as wanting to spend some time alone with him since they had both been overwhelmed with duties since they made it to Winterfell. 

The Army of the Dead was on the march past the wall and everyone was scrambling to prepare for the inevitable clash. Winterfell was the base of operations, churning out dragonglass weapons and preparing for an oncoming siege against the undead. Barrels of flammable liquid were prepped as well as dragonglass arrows to fight from the top of the walls, but Jon and his forces were hoping to cut the undead numbers before they even reached Winterfell. He and Daenerys were planning an attack further North in the oncoming days.

Jon knew Daenerys had her dragons to protect her and that they were the most powerful weapon of all, but it still didn’t sit well with him that she was willing to lead an army into battle without even the smallest of blades to use in self-defence. It just wasn’t a good idea, and the thought of Drogon being killed on the battlefield and leaving Daenerys alone and defenceless made his stomach churn in the most unpleasant of ways. Ideally Jon would be at her side, but large scale battles were unpredictable and you could lose your allies in the sea of people.

He heard approaching footsteps, glancing up to see Daenerys stepping onto the small training ground. The moonlight hit her silver hair in such a way that she appeared to glow. He almost forgot to breathe, such an ethereal sight it was. Not only that, but she had ditched the regal dresses for more practical attire. She donned northern furs, and some winter trousers that seemed to be made just for her. They suited her well and he suddenly wished she had made the change sooner. He liked the way she looked. It must have been the Northerner in him.

He realized then that she was walking closer to him, breaking his small trance as his gaze moved up to meet her eyes. She was smiling at him, a cheeky little quirk of her lips she often wore when she was amused. He seldom saw it since they learned that the White Walkers had breached the wall. He didn’t blame her. They both had trouble sleeping. 

“I said that it’s a beautiful night.” Her voice broke the silence, her eyebrows raising as her smile pulled further.

Gods, had she? “Aye, it is. The one good thing about winter is that all the snow on the ground lights up the place at night.” He felt a bit foolish scrambling for a response, but what he said was true. Not only was the snow reflecting the moon’s light, but he had lit several torches to illuminate the training grounds even more. Despite it being night, they could see around them just fine. He looked up, staring at the moon and stars that peeked through openings in the grey clouds, “Don’t know how long it’ll last. Winter will hit us without mercy soon enough.”

He turned away from her to pick up an obsidian blade, holding it with both palms as he turned back and closed the distance between them. He could see her eyes roving over the weapon, a small crease forming on her forehead.

His head tilted, eyes softening as he spoke in a more intimate tone, gentle and reassuring, “I had this made for you. A short sword. Small and lightweight-- you should be able to wield it with one hand.” He had mulled over what kind of weapon would suit her best, trying to balance between something strong enough and one the dainty queen could still swing around. She was small in stature and he could tell that her athletic ability was minimal. Something he had discovered though was that she had a grip of steel unlike anything he had ever seen. It was uncanny, but he supposed it made sense if she had been clinging on to dragon spines while soaring through the skies for years.

He sensed hesitance in her before she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the sword, lifting it off of his hands. She held it up, turning it from side to side as she said softly, “I’ve never held one before. A blade.”

“Never?” He asked, genuinely surprised for a moment. He then quickly realized that despite how ferocious she could be and the large armies she led, as a queen she must have never needed to wield a weapon herself. A strange thought. He had been handling swords for as long as he could remember and couldn’t quite imagine what it’d be like if he hadn’t.

She lowered the shortsword, looking almost offended, “Did you expect me a master of everything, Jon?”

“I suppose not.” Obviously he knew that she couldn’t be. It’s just that sometimes with the way she carried herself, you’d think that she was.

He walked over to the blade rack and picked up a dull training sword out of the bunch, returning to stand in front of her as he began his instruction, “We don’t have much time for anything too advanced. I just want you to get the basics down. Hopefully you won’t have to used that sword at all, but it’s better to have it than not.” 

She nodded in understanding and Jon was relieved to see that she seemed intrigued and determined to learn.

After getting her into a proper fighting stance-- with some cheeky hip grabbing in the process (he couldn’t help it), and demonstrating a few simple swings, he was readying to throw her straight into sparring. “Come at me with all you’ve got. I want to see what we’re working with.” He rolled his wrist, lifting his sword up as he prepared for her attack.

Her brows furrowed, “This blade is real. I don’t want to harm you.”

Her concern was honestly and truly endearing, a large smile pulling at Jon’s lips for the first time in days. He let out a chuckle, “I assure you I’ll be fine.” He was one of the most skilled swordsman around if he did say so himself. He already knew she wouldn’t be able to land a hit on him. Not at this level at least.

Her expression turned into one of slight disbelief, jaw dropping as she scoffed, “Are you insulting me Jon Snow?” There was an air of humour in her tone as she got into a (poor) fighting stance, eyes fierce as they were playful. He liked seeing her lighthearted like this. Perhaps they both needed this time to just step away from the world and be together in each other’s company. His time with her reminded him that despite all his duties and the hope placed on him, he was still human. He could still chuckle and joke and feel enamoured. He was allowed to.

“Oh I would never, my queen.” He replied, putting on the dramatics a bit as well. An equally playful glint in his eyes giving his intentions away.

It didn’t take much more egging on until Daenerys went on the offensive, swinging the shortsword around with ease. Good. The weight of it was okay and her arms would only get stronger with practice.

He matched every one of her attacks, parrying her blade away much to Daenerys’ frustration. He couldn’t help but admire the expression on her face and the light sheen of sweat forming on her brow. She was beautiful and he had trouble looking away since the first time he laid eyes on her back at Dragonstone.

Seeing her grit her teeth, grunting as she slashed at him gave him some peace of mind, for he knew that any wight facing her would be met with the ferocity of a dragon that had been restrained its entire life.

Fighting suited her, he realized. She just had never been given the chance to bare her own fangs.

#jonerys #drabble #my posts #( because everyone's been wanting this and I have too ) #( dany gotta hold a weapon by the end of the series or imma fight someone ) #game of thrones #daenerys targaryen #jon snow

[siverwrites]

A Helping Hand

Brief foray back into Trails land. Just a little thing taking place at some point in the first game, during all those times just doing school things we don’t see.

My first attempt at writing Laura and giving Machias and Laura some attention. They don’t really get much interaction time unless I’m forgetting something.

Of all the stupid things to happen. One misstep, one fall that went just wrong enough and now Machias was stuck with a possibly sprained ankle. He gingerly tried putting weight on it and hissed at the pain. Sprained was definitely seeming likely.

At least he was on campus. He didn’t have to go too far to get checked at the infirmary. He didn’t want to think about the longer walk back to their dormitory.

“Machias?”

Not the voice he expected. If anyone was going to find him in this predicament – and he was hoping no one would – he would have expected Rean. He always seemed drawn to everyone’s troubles. Instead Laura stood nearby holding a book.

She looked at him with mild concern. “I was on my way to the library, but you looked troubled. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He shifted his weight again. If he stood just so he could ease the ache to a degree. “I just… I had a bit of an accident. It’s nothing serious. I’m sure Instructor Beatrix can help in no time.”

She stepped closer and offered an arm. “I can accompany you.”

He winced. He’d be fine. He could make it without support; he’d planned to.

“You won’t help yourself by worsening your injury,” Laura said as if she’d read his mind. Was he so obvious? A sternness crept into her tone, but her gaze remained calm and steady.  

Foolish pride, Regnitz, he chastised himself. The quicker he could be past all of this the better.

He nodded with a grimace and took Laura’s arm. She took some of his weight and he marvelled at how strong she was. Of course she’d have to be to wield such a large sword. Another wince, this time out of chagrin, as he remembered the first day and their ‘orienteering’ exercise. The girls shouldn’t be alone. With all the grace and simplicity Laura always bore she quashed that notion. That was a day that seemed to keep getting worse. He was grateful they had all moved past it, Albarea aside.

Their walk was quiet until they reached the infirmary and Machias stopped, one hand on the door handle.

“I have a request.”

Laura gave him a curious look. “Yes?”

“Please don’t speak of any of this to Albarea.”

She blinked. “I hardly see that it matters. Accidents can and do happen to anyone.”

“I don’t need any of his comments.”

“However,” Laura continued. “I will keep it to myself. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” Machias said awkwardly and tried to bolster himself. “I’ve already taken up too much of your time. You were going to the library, weren’t you?”

“I need to return this book.” Laura surveyed him and Machias felt like he was being sized up. “I won’t be long. If you’d like company returning to the dormitory I’d be happy to meet you back here.”

Machias weighed his options. Instructor Beatrix was sure to make things easier, but a bad ankle was a bad ankle. Laura was pleasant company in her quiet way and he often found himself forgetting she even was a noble. Pride waged war for a brief spell before being shunted aside.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out…”

“It’s no bother. If we’re both going back anyway why not enjoy each other’s company?”

“Then I’d be happy to.”

And when Machias later exited the infirmary with a gentle warning to rest, he found he genuinely was happy to find Laura waiting for him. Some clouds did have a silver lining he thought as they made their slow way back to the dormitory, talking of various things from their classes to their respective clubs and anything in between.  

#trails of cold steel #sen no kiseki #machias regnitz #laura s arseid #trails fic #writing

[toku-explained]

The Other Knight Swordsman

Z: Before Juggler can begin whatever his plan is he gets attacked by Five King, and becomes Zeppandon to fight him off, Celebro accusing him of trying to steal the weapon he had created, Ultroid Zero. Z leaps in, deciding to help Hebikura. I believe this is the first time we've seen Juggler in Majin state but with his human face. Juggler apparently still believes he was 100% in the right to destroy the Tree of Life, and wants to use Ultroid Zero to prove it. Five King defeats Z, but is defeated by Zeppandon in turn, who moves to take Ultroid Zero away, but Five King is active enough to give an ultimatum. While Juggler chooses Ultroid Zero, he immediately goes back on it and attacks to save Haruki. It's like saving Natasha, but that was instinct, this is a choice, he's defeated and it looks like the Dark Z Riser might have been burned out. Haruki semi-conscious sees Kuriyama come and take the Belial medal. When he wakes up Yoko is being prepared for another Ultroid Zero test. When he remembers what happened Bako takes him. Kuriyama orders Yuki Mai to treat the other STORAGE members as hostile aliens if they act strange, then tells Yoko about his whole plan, before Celebro possesses Yoko, and throws Belial's medal into Ultroid Zero's core, and hijacks it as Yuki Mai demands she explain herself. Yuka alerts Haruki and Bako to what Ultroid Zero is doing, as it attacks Kaiju Containment Sites, absorbing Crescent, Dancan, Arstron, Bridon Satan Beetle and Majaba, and his heading for Red King. When Haruki explains he has to go Bako understands the truth. Red King desperately protects it's egg, but is killed and absorbed, Z manages to save the egg. Celebro triggers the final evolutions of Ultroid Zero in Destrudos. While Yuka is desperately trying to find the cockpit location, die to Yoko now also acting out, GAFJ arrive to arrest Yuka. Z uses Alpha Edge, then Beta Smash, then Gamma Future to face Destrudos, with little success, before Celebro uses D4, which overpowers Zestium Ray this time. Z tells Haruki that if they try to fight again Haruki will be killed. He awakens to find himself in the care of Hebikura, Yuka, Bako-san and several other former members of STORAGE, all in their old uniforms. With GAFJ failing to fight back against Destrudos, they need to take back the 1st SAAG base.

The Absolute Conspiracy: And now we enter into Part 2, this time starring Ultraman Belial in his Early Style (Longtime VA), this starts during the events of the legendary conflict known as the Great Ultra War, which I'm going to estimate for now as being 20,0000 years before the original Ultraman, but sources have placed it as much as 30,000 years before Ultraman, but it could also be less than 15,000 years before. Will probably get a better idea once we start. The introductory sequence narrated by Zero describes this as being 30,000 years ago, but this may be 30,000 years before Part 1. We see Belial face a Godola Seijin alongside Ultraman Ken (New VA as Ken), the future Father of Ultra, facing Nackle Seijin and Babalou Seijin, Ken's opponents surrender, claiming Empera Seijin forced them into this, but Belial executes them, to Ken's concern, as the two fly off Tartarus appears, noting Belial. On the surface of the Land of Light, Empera Seijin cuts down scores of Ultras. Present is Ultrawoman Marie (New VA as Marie), the future Mother of Ultra. Unlike Ken she already has her Silver Cross Corps medals and the Blue Mother. Ken and Belial arrive and tell her to run, Belial is into her. Ken and Belial fight Empera Seijin and are defeated when Marie returns, explaining that her family has for generations held the Holy Sword, the Ultimate Blade, which she offers Ken. Ken takes the sword and is powered up into the form of Father of Ultra, engaging and defeating Empera Seijin in combat, Empera is seemingly destroyed, and Ken reverts to his normal form. Belial is shocked at his friend's hidden power. Afterwards at the Silver Plaza Belial approaches Marie, and starts trying to impress her, but when Ken arrives it's clear she only has eyes for him, Ken reveals the decision to for the Inter Galactic Defence Force has been made, with Ken appointed as it's first commander. Belial, resentful, remembers the power of darkness. Absolute Tartarus communicates with him, suggesting he can change his fate, which points Belial's thoughts towards the Plasma Spark. Belial's resentment grows, and after Ken defeats him in a sparring match where he decides to go all out, Tartarus contacts him again, and as he contemplates power his eyes turn red. He attempts to claim the Plasma Spark but is overwhelmed by it, and stumbles out. Zoffy (New VA for his young self) tries to apprehend him and he lashes out, knocking down various Ultras. Ken tries to stop him with Zoffy, and he instead flees into space, where he is approached by Tartarus, who shows him his future, all the way until his death, and offers him a change to his fate, taking him to an inter-dimensional space where he meets Reibatos, Juda Spectre, Mold Spectre, Bat Seijin and Zett.

Saber: Megiddo plans have been delayed by the fire around the gate book. Desast tries to take Kurayami, only for Caliber to reappear as Jaou Dragon. Everyone at Northern Base is determined to stop the Megiddo for Kento's sake. Touma gives Needle Hedgehog to Ogami and Tri Cerberus to Ren, keeping Lamp Do Alangina for himself. In order to configure the book Daishinji is making for Rintaro's use, Daishinji borrows his books and King Of Arthur, leaving Touma, Ren and Ogami to face Legeiel, and Caliber appears as well. Saber uses Dragon Alangina, wielding Ikazuchi alongside Rekka, he and Kenzan hold Caliber pretty well. As the flames on the gate abate Storious and Zooous arrive to hold the Riders, allowing Caliber to make his way, but Saber gets through, as Slash joins the battle, the three share powers so we get Buster Genbu Bremen, Kenzan Ninja Jackun and Slash Hansel Butasan. The gate opens, and Wonder World starts merging with the real world. King Lion Daisenki is completed. Caliber manages to go through the gate. Rintaro arrives and debuts King Lion Daisenki, making short work of the Megiddo and using his Lion Change to destroy the pillar of Darkness, while Saber takes his books and King of Arthur and pursues Caliber.

Kiramager: Mabusheena, what have you done? So is it actually like physiologically possible for tea to have an inebriating effect on another species? They are living crystals, this just comes down to Muryo not knowing about things Takamichi could have told him at any time. I suppose it's good we're finally looking for the last Kanaema Stone, I genuinely don't remember if they used up the last one or not, but I do understand why they've not really been focused on since Yodonna showed up, since Mabusheena was saved. And hey it's Matsumoto, he just will not stop appearing in Sentai will he. Hi Yodonna. I am loving the drunk antics, but she did accidentally force a Monstone into Golf Jamen, and teach Yodonna the wonders of Ice Cream. We get a wonderfully ridiculous situation, a golf finisher, and Garza destroying Cart Hilldon after Takamichi has escaped.

#toku explained #kamen rider saber #ultraman z #ultra galaxy fight #mashin sentai kirameiger