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eddiessidegirl · 2 years

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Hell Bent for Leather

Chapter 7

Masterlist: x

Summary: You’re just now learning about what your little brother has been up to over the years post earthquake, and that formerly thought to be dead people weren’t

Pairing: Eddie x Henderson!Reader

Reader is a plus size Female with female genitalia, she/her pronouns

Slight Vol 2 spoilers but this is a fix-it fic

Warnings: General 18+ warning as this is an 18+ blog, this chapter in particular is fairly fluffy with (if you squint) some angst

Chapter word count: 1711

This chapter has not been Beta read

A/N: I struggled with deciding to post this chapter since my engagement has been down. But I love this story so much. I didn’t want to let myself and anyone who is following along down.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Chaos ensued when the four of you returned to the cabin, Nancy and Max fretted over the state of your clothes, your hair not noticing how swollen your lips still were from earlier with Eddie. Steve was continuing to stare at the backs of yours and Eddie’s heads you knew he knew what happened but you also prayed he would let it be. Everyone else clambered around asking a multitude of questions that made your head spin.

Joyce on the other hand went straight into mom mode and ushered everyone inside, telling all the kids that their questions can wait until you were both clean. Eddie went to his room to change while you stood there shivering still covered in mud and wearing Eddie’s battle vest. You knew there wouldn’t be anything that fit you in Janes room so you didn’t ask her. Joyce must have realized you were uncomfortable and told Hop to go find you something.

He produced a T-shirt for his favourite beer company Schlitz, “I won it in a contest!” He told Joyce who had a very disapproved face, and a pair of pj bottoms that still looked new. You took them gratefully and followed Nancy who offered to help you clean your hair.

“Where did you go?” She asked you the second the door closed behind you and she had the faucet on. Before you could even answer the door swing open and Robin was shoving her way into the already cramped room. “Robin! Couldn’t you have at least knocked?!” Nancy chastised.

She mumbled something about emotional support and locked the door behind her sitting on the floor “it’s fine, Nance, really, I’m just grateful it’s you two with me and not anyone else. You told her, giving Robin a soft smile and gesturing for her to join you two in the de-leafing of your hair.

With the running water muffling you from everyone in the living room you explained that when you woke up to no one but Erica in the cabin you’d panicked and taken off. “I fell at one point and sat under a log when it really began to rain… it didn’t let up and I thought I’d be stuck there all night. I didn’t want you guys out on the lake when it was thundering but I couldn’t move very well with all the mud. Didn’t realize how far I’d run either or how late it was until it started to get dark.”

Robin assisted you out of your clothes which she put in a pile by the door. You slowly sat at the bottom of the tub and let the water rush over your body, Nancy took it upon herself to aid you in washing your hair but allowed you to wash your skin. Everything ached and mud had gotten into every crevice thanks to yours and Eddie’s extracurricular activities, a flush lit along your cheeks as it came to the forefront of your mind. Once the dirt and grime was out of your tendrils, Robin and Nancy began cleaning up the floor.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Nancy reach over to grab the vest Eddie had given to you to wear but you shook your head, “No, please… leave it there,” until you were in the same room as him again this was your lifeline. “Y/N, it’s dirty I’m sure he’d want it to be washed…” eventually she relented and left it on the counter for you. “We’ll add it to the next load.” A soft smile across her lips.

“So, I understand some of the dirt and stuff, but why were both of you looking like Bog monsters?” Robin asked casually, her features showing every bit of her curiosity, you flushed harder “Wait…oh my god, Y/N, did you two…?” You head fell into your palms and you were grateful for the water because Robin let out a squeal that was deafening in the small room.

“Oh my god, Robin, please! Shhhh!” Embarrassment shaded your tone of voice, “could you be any louder?” A large smile spread across your friends face, “you totally did. I’d ask for details, but you know, men aren’t really my thing.” The three of you giggled for a bit, your soul feeling lighter and then when it was time for you to rinse off they left you alone, door cracked just ever so slightly so you didn’t feel claustrophobic in the bathroom. When you’d finished you slid into the pj pants and pulled the shirt over your head, grateful that Hopper hadn’t thrown out all his clothes from before he was stuck in the Russian prison.

Stepping out of the bathroom, vest in arms, the sound of the television and a few voices could be heard, it was late. Very late. Janes dad had driven the bulk of the kids home, only Dustin, Mike and Will remained. Joyce was seated in the recliner, Jane and Mike were sitting at the new counter hopper built sharing a bowl of popcorn, Dustin and Will on the floor discussing something you couldn’t quite catch. Wills mom waved you over to sit near her on the couch.

As you sat you pulled a pillow into your lap, feeling self conscious being in clothing that wasn’t yours “you doing ok hon? I know it can be overwhelming and then getting lost in the woods…” it was clear she was having flashbacks to when Will went missing, you felt horrid for doing to it her even if it was an accident. All you could do was nod, a lump caught in your throat.

After a few moments you turned to Joyce, her face still youthful but tired after so many horrors over the years, “I’m really sorry, I just freaked out and the first reaction I had was to go look for everyone. The older woman understood, she’d had done the same thing.

You inquired after Eddie, Dustin looked up at this moment, “Steve was driving Nancy and Robin home so he took Eddie with him to shower at his place then he’s bringing him back.” You nodded at your brother, thankful he didn’t press further. You turned your attention to the television, an episode of Cheers was on the sound was dull, but comforting. After a few moments you drifted off on the couch, Your arms holding Eddie’s vest in a vice grip. Joyce told the remaining kids to be as quiet as possible as she covered you up, ever the mother.

A dreamless sleep was had but that didn’t stop you from waking up in a cold sweat. Your movement caused the springs of the couch to creak. The room was slowly filling with light, morning was arriving. On the floor was Dustin, Mike and Will sleeping in sleeping bags across the kitchen, Joyce and Hopper were no where in sight, but you figured they were nearby. Janes bedroom was shut more or less, the door open a few inches. Eddies was wide open. Confused you made to get up and turned your head more than you had previously and that’s when you noticed him sprawled out in the recliner. His hair a birds nest, mouth wide open and making soft snores.

Gently you nudged his arm, pulling the piece of denim out from behind you where it had ended up, he awoke with a small start, his eyes wild with disorientation until they settled on you. He smiled, and the butterflies awoke in your tummy, “hey..” he whispered “hey to you too.” Quietly he got up, motioned for you to follow him and lead you to his room, his fingers searching for yours and when he found them he didn’t let go.

Once inside his room, you pushed the door until you hit the house limit, turning to face Eddie you held out the vest, which he promptly took and threw across the room. Before you could say anything, his long arms wrapped your body up into an embrace and held you close. Lips pressed against the top of your head, you took this opportunity to return the hug and burrowed your face in the crook of his neck.

He chuckled, “you prepared for the inquisition later today?” You shook your head, not looking up. “We still have a few hours before they wake up, let’s get some more sleep, princess.” Gently he pulled you to the bed and you paused. Confused, you could just sleep on the couch. Your head and body turned to the door “we’ll just sleep, promise.” Eddie soothed you, one hand on your back, and helped you get comfortable before sliding in beside you, pulling his comforter over the both of you. His arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close holding you by your stomach. Eddies body cupping yours acting like the big spoon. You eventually melted against his body, the closeness relaxing your muscles and your brain quietened. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“G’night sweetheart,” he muttered against your skin, already falling asleep, you followed suit soon after, whispering a soft “I love you” that you didn’t know if it would reach the depths of his mind as he slept as you drifted off. Your fingers locking with his that was holding your tummy. The line of questions could wait, right now all you wanted was to be here with Eddie, warm in his blankets and his arms.

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Tag list: @alicefallsintotherabbithole | @tssf-imagines | @eponaartemisa

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddiessidegirl #stranger things spoilers #st4 spoilers #eddiemunson #eddie x reader #eddie x henderson!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x plus size reader #st fix it fic #hell bent for leather

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stray-kaz · 1 year

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Three Day Hire : a Leo Grande x reader FF : three

A/N: Gif doesn’t fit perfectly for this chapter, but there are limited gifs for this movie where he is actually fully dressed. Is anyone actually complaining lol?

Bit of 18 and up, y’all.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and Leo opened it just enough to keep you shielded by it, still lying on the bed. Millie stepped right up to the threshold and batted her lashes at him. He blinked plainly back.

“Would you like to take a look at the grounds?” she asked him. “They’re quite lovely this time of year.”

Leo nodded and then looked over his shoulder at you.

“Your sister can show me” he told Millie. “I’m here for her, after all.”

Prone on your back, you grinned at the ceiling. You heard the door click shut and looked up into Leo’s face as he stood over you. He held out his hands and pulled you up abruptly, ending with your nose pressed into the hard centre of his chest. On impulse, he dropped a kiss on your hair and then took a step back, gesturing broadly at the bedroom door.

“Show me around.”

You led him into the hallway, bypassed your fuming older sister, and made your way outside onto the porch. Reginald and the car were gone, leaving the way clear to look out over the golden fields and the winding white drive.

“This place is beautiful” Leo said, staring as he held your hand. “How long have you been coming here?”

“Since I was five. I know every inch.”

The two of you wandered down the porch steps and turned left towards the field and forest area beyond.

“There’s a hut in there that my dad helped Derek and me build when we were kids” you said as you stepped over the nature threshold into the woods.

The air cooled immediately and you tread carefully, mindful of fallen logs and treacherous undergrowth. You were hyper aware that Leo was still holding your hand; it engulfed yours completely, and made you feel warm and safe. He kept you from falling more than once, his fingers tightening their grip.

“You’re not very stable, are you?” he laughed, after preventing you landing on your backside in a pile of pine needles.

“That’s me in a nutshell” you muttered. “Unstable.”

He grinned and you looked away, chewing at your lip.

“You’re very boyfriend-y, you know” you told him, picking your way in the direction of the hut.

“Thank you. I aim to please.”

You blushed and glanced back at him.

“I bet you do” you retorted, and that was when your feet slid out from under you again.

But this time, you took Leo down with you. You landed hard on your back, the breath knocked clean from your lungs. Leo stopped short of headbutting you, but his whole body pressed the length of yours, and you felt like one bright live wire beneath his weight.

He scrambled off you in a hurry and helped you sit up, both of you now just sitting in the dirt, fingers locked together up to the first knuckle. The air slowly burned back into your lungs and the concern slowly faded from Leo’s eyes, the crease in his forehead smoothing away. His eyes glinted green in the light that filtered down through the leafy canopy.

When he leaned forward to carefully, almost tenderly, remove a leaf from your hair, your eyes flickered to his and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist. His breathing slowed to quiet pants and you gently touched your lips to his pulse point, feeling it flutter and leap, blood surging. The soft inner skin of his wrist bloomed warm beneath your lips and you felt an ache to touch more.

Leo raised his eyes from your mouth on him to your face and saw your darkened eyes and widened pupils. He’d seen that look many times before, but never with such a plea behind it.

He wasn’t sure if he moved first or you did, but from one second to the next, you were in the dirt and leaves and then you were in his lap and his mouth was under yours and his lungs were stealing your air. Your hands pushed into his shoulders, kneading desperately at the muscles they found, before reaching into his short curls and getting lost. You were lost, his mouth hot, hands firm as they held your upturned hips a hair’s breadth from his own.

Leo pulled away and lifted his chin so his mouth was right by your ear.

“How long has it been?” he whispered throatily, and a tremor shook down your spine at the sensation of his breath on your skin.

“Since what?” you breathed out, trying not to let your eyes roll in your head.

He nosed along your jawline, breathing you in.

“Since someone kissed you like they meant it” he murmured.

You released a shaky breath and shook your head. He chuckled quietly and gently gripped your chin, holding you still as he ghosted his lips over yours.

“I can fix that for you” he said softly, and promptly swallowed your answering whimper.

And then there was only heat, sensation and the quiet sounds of denim brushing denim as you ground down in his lap, chasing any friction, any reward.

A twig snapped and you jumped, careening off of Leo and propelling yourself to your feet. He followed, taking in your disheveled hair, flushed skin and the wide stripe of skin on show due to your tank top having been rucked up in the tussle. He tugged it down without a word and pulled a few more leaves out of your hair before adjusting himself to look a little more presentable.

You didn’t run into anyone else on your way out of the woods, but Millie was sitting on the porch, drink in hand, when you emerged and made your way inside, both of you looking a little worse for wear and covered in dirt.

“Have fun?” she asked you archly, her perfect eyebrows raised.

You wanted to smack the derisive smirk off her face, but instead you just sailed past, Leo’s hand firmly gripped in yours. Millie twisted in her chair to yell after you, her words raining against Leo’s back.

“Remember the rehearsal dinner tonight! You have to at least appear presentable, little sis!”

You rolled your eyes and muttered a few choice words under your breath about where she could shove her presentable, and Leo squeezed your hand.

“Ignore her” he said quietly. “You’re lovelier than she is anyway.”

Warmth fizzed through your veins in the wake of his words and he smiled when you leaned a little into him as you walked slowly back to your room.

Just before eight that evening, you came out of your bedroom’s en suite bathroom, dressed to the nines and finding Leo waiting for you on the bed. He was leaning over, elbows on knees, hands clasped loosely, but when he saw you, he sat back, legs spread, breath leaving him in a whistle. You blushed and twirled, making the tulle skirt fly up around you in a haze of nighttime blue.

He stood up and placed his hands on your bare shoulders, rubbing his thumbs up and down. He glanced down your back and saw an expanse of bare skin, crisscrossed by corset laces. Essentially backless, and you were going braless.

“You look beautiful” he said softly, bending his head to trail his lips across your left shoulder to your neck; you arched it slightly, making him smile into your skin.

“Thank you” you said, swallowing as you looked him over.

He wore pressed slacks that, miracle of miracles, matched the blue of your dress, and a white short sleeved linen shirt tucked in past his belt. He raised an eyebrow at your appraisal.

“Well?” he prompted, biting back a smile.

“Very handsome” you murmured, eyes alight. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”

Leo’s cheeks warmed and the faintest flush became visible against the caramel of his skin.

“Thank you” he mumbled, teeth tugging at his bottom lip. “Shall we go?”

You nodded and slipped your hand into his outstretched waiting one. You directed him to the guest dining room, which was bigger than the main one. Your family were all already seated, plus a few of the guests, but Derek’s bride-to-be leapt to her feet when she saw you enter and ran to you. She threw her arms around your neck and you hugged her back one armed, your other hand still in Leo’s.

“Hi, Abigail” you murmured, smiling quietly. “This is Leo.”

She stuck out her hand and he shook it politely.

“Congratulations” he said, and she beamed.

“Thank you so much! I have been hearing all about you from Derek and Millie. Publishing, too, right?”

Leo nodded, a faint wry smile on his face.

“Yeah, that’s right” he answered.

Abigail beckoned to you both.

“Come sit next to me” she said, ushering you away with her.

“What about Derek?” you asked.

She waved a hand dismissively.

“He’s a big boy” she said. “He can cope.”

You grinned and took the seat beside her, smiling up at Leo in thanks as he pushed it in under the table for you before he sat on your other side, right opposite Millie. He ignored her coquettish smile and let his hand wander underneath the tablecloth and onto your thigh. You jumped a little, but he held his position and you soon calmed, his hand anchoring you in your seat.

Guests came and went, conversation ebbed and flowed, food and drink arrived. You accepted the compliments on your dress from your parents and even the grudging one from Millie, who looked as if she was chewing on a particularly sour lemon when she said it.

You tried to listen to what Abigail and Derek were talking about as you ate and sipped at your non-alcoholic sparkling, but Leo was proving how well he could eat left handed while the dexterous fingers of his right were hazing your mind and clouding your judgement.

Finally, you laid your left hand over his and gently moved it around so that his palm was resting where his fingers had been and he got the message loud and clear, casting you a sidelong grin.

“Thanks” he murmured.

“Any time.”

He proceeded to work you into such a state that you had to stutter out an excuse to leave and then drag him with you out into the corridor, where he finished you off with his hand between your legs.

A hum still beneath your skin, you stood quietly next to the bed in your room with Leo behind you, carefully untying each lacing that tied the corset back of your dress together. He brushed his fingertips over each patch of skin as it was revealed, taking note of the goosebumps and shivers up your spine with each gentle touch. He finished the last one and lightly kissed the nape of your neck as he let the dress fall, rustling around your bare feet in a shower of blue tulle and loose straps.

You closed your eyes and breathed heavily, waiting for something to happen.

Smiling behind your back, Leo knelt and helped you to step out of the puddle of fabrics, quick kissing the backs of your calves as he did so.

“Off you go now” he murmured. “I’ll be waiting.”

You padded away, your only covering the scrap of lace and cotton sales reps liked to call underwear. Leo waited until the bathroom door had closed before slowly undressing himself and climbing under the covers, suddenly feeling bone tired and too heavy to move.

You wiped your makeup off and showered, fighting off the temptation to retreat to your room in only the towel you had wrapped around your body. But instead, you pulled on an old oversized sleep shirt, the neckline gaping around your shoulders, the appropriate underwear beneath.

Leo was half asleep already, but he rolled to meet you when the mattress dipped under your weight, and curved around you, his left arm hooking you between your breasts, his knees pushing in behind yours. He rested his head on your pillow and closed his eyes again, snuffling slightly as he settled in around you.

You lay perfectly still for a while, not wanting to disturb him or force him to move away, but eventually you relaxed into his hold and shut your eyes, a sleepy smile curving your lips.

You could not believe your luck.

Tagging: @fineanddandy

#leo grande x reader #leo grande #Good Luck to You Leo Grande #liss writes

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icewindandboringhorror · 1 year

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Daily Log 3

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Not too much, stomach kind of upset today and my chest muscle aches/shoulders/etc. are still too irritated for like typing a lot or anything.. grr... At least it was less hot than yesterday, still not feeling great symptoms wise though.

Worked on painting the tapestry thing and getting more of the basic design down. Still don't have the Avirrekava text fully translated.

Recorded another sims episode for the let's play series on my games/side youtube channel because I just realized that I definitely won't be able to in the summer since it gets so hot in my apartment that my computer runs hotter too and I can't even play games lol, so I should get a few recordings out of the way as a backlog before it gets warm. I'm always so caught in the bliss of winter (favorite season, best season, ultimate season) that summer kind of sneaks up on me and I have a moment of realization like "OH gOds I only have like one month to get a bunch of things done that are way harder for me to do in the heat!!'' , and then scramble lol..

Wrote down a script for calling a few doctors.

Thought more about the religions and other cultural systems that exist in certain elven cities in the south, where the story I mentioned in the first Daily Log takes place. Drew the basic sketch of an outfit for one of their primary religious figures (kind of like priest robes?).

Put together a load of clothes but didn't actually wash them because by that point I didn't feel good, but at least I have them out for tomorrow lol.. hashtag ultimate productivity win

Notable sights: Found 19 four leaf clovers and 1 six leaf clover that's actually kind of a double clover? Like there's a clear spot on the stem where it's two 3 leaf clovers not entirely all the way merged. Saw 4 cats in windows, one cat actually outside roaming, and a rabbit in a tennis field. There was also a pile of rocks outside that was very nice, resisted the urge to pick one up and take it home for my rock collection. Watching a show about tudor monastery farms and there was a sheep on there that looked round and funny.

Goals moving forward: Same as yesterday basically lol.. especially post the poll adventure thing that has been sitting in a draft for weeks (I thought I would get it done today, but alas.. I don't even have to do much, just proofread and post it, I just keep having no energy/being preoccupied with other things/hurts to be on computer.. grrr.. I want to continue the story >:T.. for the second day in a row, nothing has changed lol..).

Notable foods: Not much of interest, but had salmon, my favorite fish. Also had a chia seed fruit snack sort of thing which was in a squeezy pouch, and I love anything in that sort of packaging so, very fun.

Really craving spicy udon, chicken wings for some reason (which I don't even like that much), and something like lasagna?? I'm probably vitamin deficient again from my weird diet and it's making me yearn for hearty savory foods.. evil... chronic anemia cravings lol..

#just posting these publicly since it feels more like I'm doing something or easier to hold yourself accountable if you make public #declarations of goals and progress or etc. .. perhaps.. for now..#It's clover finding season apparently #so many good patches of clovers with lots of mutuation in them. Most of the 19 I found today were right next to each other spread among jus #t a few groupings of clovers. I think it runs genetically or something - so if you find one you're much more likely to find another #somewhere closeby. Or at least this is what I have found as someone who has like 150+ special clovers collected #I also really need to bleach my hair again before the summer but that's such a process...#I'll probably have to bleach it two more times to even get it light enough to dye it so. It's just like.. I wish I could have it done #all at once. I think anything that has to be done over multiple days makes me able to put it off more in my mind.#Actually just so so so so many things to do and it always feels like no time to do them..... AUghhhhhGG *collapses to my knees #in the rain like a dramatic character in a movie. wisps of rain soaked hair cloaking my face as my fancy velvet cape billows #in the stormwinds behind me. after a few moments you realize I'm also eating a little square of cheese whilst I sob #but am trying to hide it behind the hair that is flopped in my face and fumbling bc my evil vampire claws are too long*#ANYWAY #daily log

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legolas-is-a-himbo · 2 years

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Well I've finally put my The Amazing Devil obsession to use and uploaded some fic for Witcher fandom...

Title: get away for a while

Summary: It is now or never, Jaskier tells himself - at one point, he had always said he would wait. He could wait longer, keep putting it off, but then what? He would end up waiting until some dire moment, and then Geralt would fall into one of his moods, and they would both end up fighting and parting on a bad note - likely not seeing each other again for far too long of a stretch of time. That is the last thing Jaskier wants. He breaks the silence. Or, Jaskier doesn't wait until Caingorn to talk to Geralt about how he feels. It goes much better this time.

Read on ao3:

Full text below the cut:

The sun is just beginning to creep down behind the horizon, filtering through the branches and leaves of the trees surrounding the small clearing Jaskier sits in. He has always loved this hour; not quite night, but not quite day either. Maybe it is just the poet in him, but it feels like anything can happen, like he and all people are free from the bounds of society, if only for a moment each day.

He fiddles with a leaf, crinkling it between his long fingers. His lute is beside him, but he does not play - the silence is loud tonight. He dares not fill it. The only thing he wishes to hear, besides the gentle fluttering of branches in the wind, and the growing buzz of insects, and the little noises made by creatures scampering in the underbrush and birds flying overhead, is the sound of feet crunching over the forest floor. Soon, Geralt will return. He waits.

He is not very good at waiting.

“Oh, where are you, you great glorious bastard?” He mutters under his breath, picking up another leaf and crushing it in his fist.

As if on cue, footfalls in the distance make themselves known to his ears, winding a path through the forest to reach their little campsite. He hopes all is well with his companion, that a routine hunt for their dinner has not turned into a fight with a monster. It has happened before, far too many times, and Jaskier’s heartbeat picks up its pace as he realizes the sounds rustling through the brush are heavier than usual. It would be bad for something to go awry, he tells himself, especially today.

But he exhales his held breath when Geralt comes into view, whole and healthy and with a deer slung over his shoulders. Such a bounty has been rare of late, and the part of him that believes in such things sees it as an omen of good fortune to come. A sign from Destiny herself - they both are blessed tonight.

“Geralt!” He exclaims, picking himself up and beginning to pace back and forth next to the fire. “This is perfect! I have everything prepared like you’ve asked - I’ve even collected extra wood for when these logs burn out. See, it’s right over there -” he gestures emphatically towards a pile set off to the side at the edge of their camp - “And I fed and brushed Roach earlier, so you need not worry about that, and I set up our bedrolls on the smoothest part of the ground I could find.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts, “Are you alright?”

“What?” Has he picked up on Jaskier’s nervousness already? Surely he cannot be that perceptive.

“Normally you just… sit and play your little songs. But you were quiet when I came back. And you’re… helping.”

“You noticed? But no,” he adds quickly, feigning offendance, “I don’t just sit and play my little songs , thank you very much! I do plenty of things! I help all the time! And my songs are of great importance - they are not little !”

“Hmm.”

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

Geralt heaves a sigh, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. Or maybe discomfort isn’t the correct emotion - Jaskier can’t quite place it. “Thank you, Jaskier,” he says, finally.

Jaskier’s heart skips a beat, and he feels something warm up inside his chest. Perhaps his plans for tonight will go better than he thought.

“You’re very welcome, my friend.” He tries to keep up his jaunty demeanor, but his voice goes soft at the end. Color rises in his cheeks, although Geralt’s back is already turned, and he does not see.

The two remain on opposite ends of their camp, Geralt busy preparing their meal and Jaskier pulling out one of his many notebooks. He does not pay attention to what he writes; his pen flows easily across the page, words spilling out as he lets his mind slip into the clouds floating overhead in between the tree branches. Somewhere tucked away in the space between two other pages is a scrap of paper detailing his reckless daydreams, hastily written out on a corner table in some tavern, the moment he first realized he wanted some kind of future with Geralt. He knows what it says - he does not need to look again to remember.

“Jaskier!” Geralt calls from across the clearing, unusually tentative.

“Yes?”

“Do you think… Do you think you could play? Your songs?”

Jaskier’s face lights up with delight. “You want me to play?”

“You always do.” Jaskier is good at reading between the lines. Geralt is used to his constant strumming and humming, and he misses the background noise. He likes it.

Before he can blurt out something stupid and ruin the moment, Jaskier picks up his lute and plays a few chords, pondering over what to sing. He decides on a completely made-up ballad about a princess fleeing her castle and finding love with a band of outcasts she meets on the road. It is not about Geralt - not explicitly so, anyway - it is safe for the moment, but for Jaskier, it is more introspective than he would like to admit. He wonders if his companion will pick up on it.

As Jaskier plays, he notices Geralt’s shoulders relax, and he allows himself to relax, too. In their little clearing, just the two of them and Roach and the sky overhead, he forgets about the troubles of the world, of Nilfgaard and Cintra. In their little clearing, he pretends that everything is perfect.

Geralt cooks some of the meat over the fire, and Jaskier watches him. Watches the flames reflecting in his eyes and the way the muscles shift as he moves his arms and the strands of hair falling over his face and the tear in his right sleeve that Jaskier himself repaired a few weeks ago. He doesn’t know when he let himself become so far gone. But it is nice, like this - finally, he is sure that whatever is between them is something strong enough that won’t dissolve.

And so after they have eaten their fill, after they have tidied up their camp and begun to cure the rest of the meat with the salt kept in one of Jaskier’s glass vials, he sends a prayer out to whatever gods are listening. He hopes Destiny will stay on his side.

After their usual chatter and banter and small-talk, they have fallen into a silence; not one that speaks of bitterness and distrust, but one of comfort. Understanding. Peace. It is now or never, Jaskier tells himself - at one point, he had always said he would wait. He could wait longer, keep putting it off, but then what? He would end up waiting until some dire moment, and then Geralt would fall into one of his moods, and they would both end up fighting and parting on a bad note - likely not seeing each other again for far too long of a stretch of time.

That is the last thing Jaskier wants. He breaks the silence.

“I have been thinking,” he says, “I hope I have established myself as a worthy travel companion, by now.”

He pauses, letting Geralt reply, if he wants to. “Yes,” he mutters, and Jaskier tells himself it is both an “I agree with you and you are a more than worthy travel companion” yes and a “you can go on” yes.

“You know, for a long time, I have been wanting to go somewhere else, to see new things. But I don’t want to go anywhere without you. Not even back to Oxenfurt, if I’m being honest. And - well - I was just wondering. Hoping. That you would want to come with me? We could both use a break - we could head to the coast, get away for a while…” He trails off, letting the weight of his words fill the silence, letting them occupy the space between them until the space is no more.

Geralt says nothing, but his expression is not one of annoyance or disagreement. If anything, it’s the opposite. Jaskier realizes, all too suddenly, that his face looks remarkably similar to how it does when he’s looking at Yennefer. He continues babbling on before he can focus on that too much.

“It’s like something I remember the older professors would say when I was at school. Life is too short: do what pleases you. So many people in this world, like you and I, are struggling and suffering because they don’t, or can’t, let themselves do what is important to them. I do not want to be like that. I want to follow my heart.”

He finally allows himself to look at Geralt again, whose face has grown to become unreadable. His eyes shimmer in the firelight. “Composing your next song?” He says, quietly. Jaskier knows it is a deliberate deflection - he could take it, he could pretend he meant nothing by what he said, that it was all just fodder for his art.

He does not. “No,” he says, as he forces himself to retain eye contact with Geralt. “Just trying to work out what pleases me.”

Geralt nods and remains quiet for a while, but he moves his body closer so he can lean against Jaskier. And Jaskier is fine with it - he knows the witcher is not one to speak so freely, as he is. He can wait.

After all light has faded from the sky and the clouds have parted to let the stars watch over them, Geralt speaks again. “I am not sure if I can travel so far yet. But - ” He pauses to draw in a breath - “I can promise not to leave you.”

“I can work with that,” Jaskier says, his wavering voice betraying his emotions. It is not everything he wanted, but it is more than he ever expected. Before he goes to sleep, he wanders over to Roach when Geralt isn’t looking.

“Hello girl,” he whispers into her mane, gently scratching her head, right where she likes it. “I might be sticking around for longer this time. You know him best - what do you think?”

The horse nuzzles into his side appreciatively, and he takes it as a sign of hope.

The next day, he remembers his absent-minded writings in his journal. As he reads over them, the wings flapping in his stomach quicken and grow in their intensity.

It's what my heart just yearns to say

In ways that can't be said

It’s what my rotting bones will sing

When the rest of me is dead

It's what's engraved upon my heart in letters deeply worn

Today I somehow understand the reason I was born

He smiles to himself and gently shuts the notebook, tucking it back into his jacket pocket. But before he puts it away, he folds down the corner of the page. He will be coming back to it.

———————

After that night, neither Geralt nor Jaskier mention their conversation for some time. But Jaskier notices subtle changes - and less subtle ones - and he lets himself continue to hope.

Geralt no longer complains about Jaskier’s singing, and sometimes, if he does not need to go out and complete a contract, he stays in the tavern when Jaskier performs, rather than heading up to his room. When they are on the move, he lets Jaskier keep up his chattering, and he even begins to join in sometimes. One evening, he tells Jaskier about Kaer Morhen, and his brothers Eskel and Lambert and Coën, and Vesemir, who raised them. Jaskier is fascinated, and he implores Geralt to keep talking. It is a window into his life that he never had the privilege to access before, but now something fundamental has shifted between them. Jaskier talks, and also, he listens.

Sometimes, they find themselves sleeping in the same bed. It’s hardly a new phenomenon, but it is different now. Geralt has stopped shying away, and Jaskier has stopped pretending like he doesn’t care. As the sun filters in through the rusty windows of some tavern in a backwater town somewhere in Temeria, the world wakes oblivious to the pair pressed up against each other, Jaskier’s arm slung around Geralt’s chest, Geralt’s hand holding his own.

Jaskier does not utter the phrase again - We could head to the coast, get away for a while - but it replays in his mind almost constantly. More nights than not, he finds himself smoothing open the worn sheet of paper folded into his music book, where he wrote down all the details he needed to leave for the ocean. The fastest, safest route to take, where they could build a cottage, all the paths they would need to remember in order to get back into proper cities. He has not shown it yet to Geralt, but one day he will.

Geralt knows what Jaskier meant by it, and Jaskier knows that he knows. Neither one of them have been good at grand proclamations - Geralt telling people how he feels too little that the meaning is hard to create, and Jaskier too much that the meaning is almost lost. But that statement, that conversation, that night in the woods. It was a declaration of love.

Everything comes to a head when they end up staying an extra night in a village not far outside Hengfors, and Jaskier notices Geralt growing anxious.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, cautiously.

“Not sure,” Geralt says. Jaskier doesn’t press further, but he can tell that there is more than Geralt is letting on.

He finds out soon enough, though, that something is wrong - or perhaps, very right.

They are staying in an inn; due to extra coin made from a series of Geralt’s successful hunts and Jaskier coming out with a new batch of songs that have gained even more appreciation than his old ones, they have spent less time sleeping under the stars. Jaskier appreciates the fresh food - although it is not always good food - and the privilege of sleeping on a real bed, but, as much as he hesitates to admit it, he has realized he enjoys the open air. He still longs for the ocean - not for Oxenfurt, but for somewhere far away from everything.

He is walking back to the inn after performing in a festival for a crowd of delighted children - the song, the one he wrote about rotting bones and words engraved on hearts, has become quite a hit once finished, although he has not let Geralt hear it yet - and pondering these thoughts, when something stops him in his tracks. As he swings open the door, he spots a familiar violet-eyed sorceress sitting at a table, deep in conversation. With Geralt. Fuck .

Cautiously, he approaches where they sit, trying not to be seen. He knows that Yennefer must notice him - what with her magic and all - but she continues speaking in those lovely hushed tones of hers. Geralt should notice too, his witcher senses must be good for something , but if he does, he doesn’t do anything about it either.

“- think if you are ready, you shouldn’t hold yourself back. He’s right, and you know it.” Jaskier manages to pick up what Yennefer is saying, but he doesn’t understand. Not until Geralt replies.

“I know. I want to… I want to do what pleases me. I just don’t know how to tell him.” They’re talking about him .

His heart drops to somewhere beneath his feet, and he feels his hands begin to shake. Oh sweet Melitele , he thinks, they’re going to abandon me . He knew his luck was running out, that Destiny would soon have her fill with him. Geralt was going to forget all their progress from the past few months and run away with that beautiful sorceress of his, the one who saved Jaskier’s life. He would go right back to where he started, lonely and heartsick and without any sense of direction.

“Why don’t you tell him right now?” Yennefer says, her slippery voice carrying over the sounds of the room and making his fingertips tremble even worse. He wonders if she’s doing it on purpose. She probably is. “Turn around.”

“What?” Geralt replies, confused, but he’s already turning. They lock eyes, and Jaskier’s heart finds its home somewhere down in the dirt.

He approaches the table, feeling like he’s walking over shards of glass and somehow stepping on all of them.

“Hi,” he says, sheepishly.

“How much did you hear?” Asks Geralt, his tone grim.

“Um, well, only the last bit. About you not knowing how to tell me something - it’s okay,” he carries on quickly, his words all running into each other, “It’s okay if you don’t want to stay with me. I’m sorry if I’ve asked too much of you, it’s fine, I’m fine, I’ll be fine. Really, you don’t need to worry, I’m sorry if I’m too difficult. I’ve been trying, I swear, but I’m sorry.”

He watches Geralt’s face fall, his eyebrows knitting together and his mouth turning downwards, lips parted in dismay. He does not let himself look at Yennefer.

He does not let himself look at Yennefer, but she is the one who cuts him off somewhere in the middle of his tirade of apologies.

“Jaskier,” she says, laying a hand - such a gentle hand, but a strong hand - on his forearm. “For the love of all the gods, shut up.”

“What?” This is moving faster than he thought; at least, he assumed, they would give him an ounce of decency, a moment to at least finish his own sentence. He feels the tears pooling in his eyes, and he looks to the ceiling to try to calm himself. This cannot be happening, not now.

“AARGH!” Yennefer screams, slapping a hand across her forehead. Jaskier reels backwards, snatching his arm away. “Fucking men! You’re all fucking useless , you know that, right? No wonder it’s taken you fools this long - you jump to conclusions like you’re a horse at a race! For fuck’s sake, why can’t you just talk about your feelings ?”

Jaskier and Geralt remain silent, waiting for her to finish her rant. She isn’t wrong, they each suppose.

“Geralt,” she continues, “tell him what you mean.”

He takes a deep breath, and, to Jaskier’s surprise, reaches for his hand. He lets him hold it.

“You haven’t asked too much of me. Don’t ever say that again.” Now this is a surprise. Geralt has never been defensive in such a way before; not about Jaskier. “I… I have been trying to work out what pleases me, like how you said. I think I’ve… found it.” He pauses, and both wait for him to continue before speaking. “It’s - well, it’s you. And Yen. Both of you - I don’t want to have to choose.”

Jaskier’s heart plummets upwards from the ground, passing by his chest and landing somewhere in the sky. He thinks he must be hallucinating - one moment, he thought Geralt was leaving, now he wants both of them?

“...What?” He blurts, frozen in place.

“Is that not what you want?”

“No - no, I just. You’re not joking?”

“Why would I joke about that?” Geralt’s voice is serious, much to Jaskier’s surprise. He forces himself to snap out of it, awkwardly fidgeting his hands.

“I always feel so unbalanced. With you, it’s… better. And with Yen.” He had been speaking just to Jaskier, but now he turns so that he faces both of them. “What pleases me is you. I don’t want to run away. You balance me out.”

“But she hates me,” Jaskier says, aware of how he’s killing the mood, but he’s too disoriented to care. He turns to Yennefer, driving home the point. “You hate me, witch .”

To his surprise, she laughs. “I don’t hate you, bard . You hate me.”

“I - what - well - I only hate you because you hate me ,” he splutters. “And you take Geralt away from me.” He figures if they’re pouring their feelings out everywhere, he might as well say that, too.

Geralt looks uncharacteristically sad, and Jaskier is suddenly filled with the desire to hug him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I want to fix this. I want to make our life work.”

“Yeah?” Jaskier realizes he is still holding Geralt’s hand, and his heart stays up in the sky. “Well. Okay. I… I would like that. I can do that.” He feels like not just his heart, but his whole body, is floating. How has his life come to this?"

“Let’s move somewhere else,” Yennefer cuts in, patting Jaskier on the arm again. He tries and fails to be disturbed by how much he likes it. “People are starting to stare.”

He realizes they make quite an odd little group, and they pick up their belongings and move towards the stairs. They end up settling in Geralt’s room, all of them perched on the bed.

“What now?” Jaskier asks.

“We go on with life,” Yennefer says. Her hand is resting on Geralt’s thigh. “It will be easy.” Jaskier has never seen her like this - without her prickly exterior, she’s rather… nice? In sudden clarity - or, if he's being honest, it hasn't been at all sudden - he sees what Geralt sees in her.

Geralt, who sits between them, is holding Jaskier’s hand again - or maybe he never dropped it. “I want to make things right between us.”

“So you’re not going to treat this like you did when you first met Yennefer? Or are you?” Jaskier blurts out, immediately regretting it.

“What do you mean?” Geralt says, although they both know he knows what Jaskier means.

“You know I saw that, right?”

“You did? ” Geralt looks embarrassed now, casting his eyes downwards at the floor.

“Oh I knew, alright.” Yennefer gently tips Geralt’s face back towards her, a wicked grin on her face. “I didn’t mind it,” she says with a shrug.

“Oh. Hmm.” Jaskier’s breath falters when he sees the color rising in Geralt’s cheeks, and the way his mouth tips up at the edges.

“Well?” He asks, his voice soft.

Geralt sighs, but it is not a sigh of frustration. “I - Jaskier,” he begins, and the way he says his name makes Jaskier’s heart melt. “I know I am not good at… this. I’m not good at love. But, I love you. I want you by my side. I like it when you’re around. Just like Yennefer, but I seem to have already told her this. I know I am… brooding, as you say. And sad and gloomy and everything else. But you help take the edge off. You make me happy. I care about you.” It is more than Jaskier has heard him say at once about his own feelings in a long time, possibly ever.

Jaskier halts his words by gently pressing his lips against Geralt’s. The moment it happens, Jaskier’s world shifts on its axis. He doesn’t know how he has survived this long without kissing Geralt, but now that it’s started, he doesn’t want it to ever stop.

Geralt’s lips are surprisingly soft, and he takes his hand - the one that isn’t already holding Jaskier’s - and lays it gently on his cheek. Jaskier’s arms wrap around his waist, and one of them, or maybe both of them, lets out a breathy sigh. It feels so natural, so… right.

At some point, he makes the mistake of opening his eyes, but in that moment, he meets Yennefer’s over Geralt’s shoulder. She doesn’t look jealous - she looks entranced . It sets something off inside Jaskier, his heartbeat quickening into a storm. He attempts to give her some kind of signal with a slight move of his head, and apparently it works, for Yennefer wraps herself around the other side of Geralt, and lays her hand overtop of each of theirs. Jaskier could get used to this. He definitely could get used to this.

———————

Sometime later, all three of them are laying in a heap, and Jaskier is playing with Geralt’s hair. Yennefer rolls over, propping her head up on Jaskier’s chest.

“You know,” she says, “Earlier, Geralt told me about your wish to go to the coast. I’d come with you, if you’d have me.”

“Really?” Jaskier’s heart, still somewhere up in the sky, somehow soars higher. “I would - I would like that. But, Geralt? Does this mean you’re agreeing to it?”

“Mm.” He stretches his arms over his head, conveniently placing one around Jaskier and Yennefer. “Yes. We could all get away for a while.”

“I really do love you,” Jaskier says with glee, finally able to express himself openly. “But now you’ll have to see all the details. I maaaaaay have already planned everything out.”

Both of them begin laughing, and Jaskier finds himself joining in. Somehow, everything will be okay.

Absent-mindedly, he starts to sing.

I've seen enough, he says, I know exactly what I want

And it's this life that we've created

Inundated with the fated thought of you

And if you asked me to, if you asked me, I would lose it all

Like petals in a storm

'Cause darling I was born

To press my head between your shoulder blades

Just to let you know I'm old, waylaid and feels like I am wading

Into carpet burns and carousels

You'll be the death of me

And calm throughout his melodrama

She will turn and say, Dear heart, it's me...

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer #geraskefer #ao3 #fic #my writing

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merryrogue · 2 years

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dad coming in on his mighty tractor to save the day

I’d asked my mom to come sit and keep me company while I moved some more dirt after I recovered from the heat. When dad came down to ask her something he saw me lugging dirt quite literally by the bucket full from the dirt sifter to the beds and back.

I did not have time to get pictures. It took him roughly 5 minutes to move the entire pile in the last post to the beds via the “one tractor bucket load a bed” method, and bring down a bunch of pallets that have been sitting around, and to park the log splitter where it belongs beside the huge wood pile.

I guess right tool/right job? Mom and I are going to pick up the sheet plastic pins and the soil testing kit tomorrow, and I’ll probably put a bunch of the leaf pile compost into the beds. Maybe I’ll get some mulch, but honestly old leaves are one of the better mulches for vegetables.

#the Garden of Iron and Stone

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specialbrewbutterbeer · 2 years

Text

Turning My Back (Sirius Black x Reader)

Word count: 1135

TW: none

AN: I loved writing this and I reckon I could do a part 2 if anyone wants it? (Let me know please! And suggest anything you want!) But I'm in need of requests rn! So they're open and very welcome, as is any feedback!

REQUESTS (OPEN)

MASTERLIST

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

These woods were cold and quiet. No amount of dappled sunlight and rich autumn colour would warm them today. The summer had turned weeks ago, all the heat in the air was faded and all the heat her cheeks had faded long before that.

Between the trees, sat an old cottage. It was well looked after, but moss and yellow lichen grew on the stones and leaves crowded on the doorstep. Even the slate tiles of the roof had tufts of long yellowing grass growing from between them.

This was where she lived. She lived quietly, unwilling to be disturbed by the chaos of the world, nor contribute to it. She liked it, her kitchen with it's old cast iron stove and table, small sitting room with a plush armchair and sheep's hide rug, and her bedroom, piled with quilts and books and comforting things. There was a fireplace, two sided, between the sitting and bedroom, that kept the whole place warm. The floor was flagstone and above were thick wooden beams. It was a small, cosy space. Nearby there was a small outhouse, behind the cottage and through a small crop of trees. In front of the house there was a small water pump. She never had to see another soul for months at a strech out there.

She stood in the kitchen, having just lit the stove and the smell of warm smoke hitting her nose. She leant back on the heels of her palms onto the big table that sat in the centre of the room. It was smooth from years of being worked on; kneading dough, chopping, stirring, reading, writing, eating.

She breathed in, a deep hearty breath of air that saturated her lungs.

She craned her neck and looked at the clock on the wall. The morning was still young. The windows were still misted with condensation and dew as she turned her attention to them. She gazed out at the forest floor, the leaf litter and grass that scattered it. The chickens were up, pecking and scratching for any insect or morsel they might find but they stuck close to their coop, and were quiet this morning.

Deep in the pit of her stomach, something about the morning felt different. The stagnant air and the silence didn't help.

She shook it off and went to work making her breakfast. She didn't feel like eating much, the strange feeling she had put her off, but with the work she had planned to fill her day, she needed something.

She brushed a strand of hair from her face and placed a slice of bread on to toast and some milk in a saucepan to heat up.

She rubbed her eyes as she waited, and stood over the stove, warming her hands over the hot top. Quickly the milk heated, and was poured into a thick ceramic mug, which she gripped her hands around keenly for the warmth. Soon the toast was done too, and with some butter and blackberry jam was enough to satisfy her.

She went through her day working, wrapped in a woollen shawl. By dusk, she was done. She crouched by the fireplace and scraped out the old ash into a tin bucket. Soon it was full and she took it out of the backdoor, pulling her shawl over her shoulder as it fell and a chill overcame her.

She emptied the ash onto the compost heap and turned to the woodshed. Once again she crouched and filled the bucket with split logs, making sure each was bone dry before she placed it with the others.

When she stood again, heading back to the house, she felt eyes looking at her. She didn't want to look over her shoulder and yet couldn't resist as she felt the tension rise up through her body and stiffen her spine.

When she did, she saw the eyes that she had felt upon her.

She didn't relax, though these eyes were familiar, the face they belonged to being one she had once known.

She blinked and turned her body toward the figure that stood far into the woods, looking back at her. She thought about stepping forward and meeting them but decided against it and instead tentatively turned back to the cottage.

She pushed the door open and looked back quickly. He hadn't moved. She left the door ajar as she slipped inside.

In knelt before the fireplace and arranged the firewood suitably. She struck the flint and lit some kindling, blowing gently on the glowing woodshavings to ignite a proper flame. This would have been easier had she used magic, but she had abandoned that many years ago. Soon the flame was beginning to creep up the sides of the logs and eat them up.

She heard leaves crunch underfoot outside, and the door creak open slowly.

Quickly she again stood and hurried into the kitchen, avoiding him. She reached the basin and leant over it, clutching at the side of it as if it were keeping her from drowning, as if she were going to be sick.

She heard the door close behind him, and his footsteps approach the doorway between the sitting room and this one.

She felt a pang of nervousness. She didn't want to see him. She had wanted to for such a long time, but she was so used to being alone now, never thinking about anyone but herself and her little home, the chickens in the yard and the goat.

The only thing that flickered before her eyes as she squeezed them shut and she held herself up on the basin, as her legs went to jelly, was that glimpse of him she'd seen out in the forest.

"You're not still shy are you?" He asked and she felt her body tense up even further. She turned, holding her breath and leant backward on the edge of the basin.

Now he was close she saw his scars, more tattoos than she remembered him having and everything about him changed.

Under his eyes were dark circles, under his coat his was skin and bone and his lips still were squewed into a small smile.

She shook her head at his question.

"I was shy when we first met." She felt her eyes fill with tears and her lungs begin to burn as she held her breath to keep them from falling down her face. "Not now."

He recognised that look in her eyes. That glistening, shiny gloss over them, that looked at him not tenderly, like they used to, but with fear and apprehension.

"I had to tell you myself." He started, not wanting to worry her anymore he didn't get closer, though he wanted to. "I was never a traitor. You've got to believe me."

#hp fanfic #hp imagine #sirius x you #sirius and regulus #siruis black #sirius #sirius imagine #sirius and james #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders era

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nightowlwriting · 3 years

Text

summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.

#critical role imagine #c2 imagine #cr imagine #fjord stone imagine #fjord imagine #fjord stone x reader #fjord x reader #fjord stone / reader #fjord / reader #campaign 2 imagine #critfic

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1a-imagines · 4 years

Text

Forget me not

Fairy!Izuku x reader

A/n: It’s here!! The post I've been making every one worry about for the past week, I hope you all enjoy. :)

This is Day 3 of the Izumonth collab!! You can find the announcement post here.

If you squint there is angst.

Word count: 5500+ words.

Overview: You've waited years for him to come back, when you find him again; what secrets will you share under the moonlit sky?

Laughter echoed in the open air, the sun peeking up over the horizon signalling the start of morning. Most of the world was asleep, but this back garden was as lively as ever. Little feet raced around the garden with purpose. A child, no older than 10, chased a ball of green light around the grassy terrain.

You jumped over toys, crawled under the slide, hid behind trees and bushes to trick your opponent into a false sense of security. Anything to win this game he had challenged you to.

You stood as still as you could from behind the tree trunk, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Finally, a green glow entered your peripheral vision and you jumped for it.

Your chubby fingers outstretched, both hands clasping around the light as you captured the target.

"Gotcha Izu'!" You laughed, opening your hands as you brought them up to your face. The glow from his wings bounced off your skin, accentuating your cute, childish, features.

The fairy rubbed his head sitting in the middle of your palms, giggling, "I was going easy on you!"

He flew up, getting level with your face. You hummed in a mocking tone, not believing him. He pressed his lips together, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Well, if that was so easy for you then how about you try catching all of us!" He exclaimed.

More glowing lights emerged from beyond the bushes in your garden. Each one a different colour, red, blue, yellow, white. Only when they got up close could you see the outlines of their bodies. You had expected fairies to be smaller than they were. They were about the size of your palms and according to them, they were still growing. You wonder how they would compare to you when you got older.

You huffed, stomping your foot on the floor with a pout. "Fine! I'll do it! But after we're paying hide and seek, ok? We only have one hour until my family wakes up!"

Izuku nodded, flying over to his friends with a grin. "I promise! Now come catch us!"

You smiled at the memory. Remembering how that night was filled with laughter and games. Even as a ten year old staying awake all night, you never got sleepy. Whenever the moon was up, you and your friends went out to play. It was the only time they came to visit you. All night you would be awake, laughing, singing and playing with them in your secret garden.

It surprised you, the memory was so vivid in your mind, like it had happened merely a day ago. As time went by, childhood memories started to fade, making them feel more like dreams than reality.

You bent down, your eye peering through the door of the little mushroom house. Just as you had expected, it was empty. You sat back on your knees, letting out a hefty sigh.

The handcrafted house brought back so many childhood memories. Memories that in one way made you happy, and in another way stung your heart like a thousand wasps.

You used to see the fairies everyday, hiding around your garden, in bushes, behind mushrooms. They particularly liked your flower beds and vegetable patches. It was where you often found them sneaking around, as if playing a never ending game of hide and seek.

Eventually, they approach you, and they become your mystical secrets. There was one in particular, your little forest haired fairy. Even before you became friends he would smile and wave at you from behind flowers and leaves.

He was too shy to talk to you at first but with time he made his way to you. His friends soon followed his suit and began talking and playing with you. As much as you adored all of them, there was just something about Izuku that made you feel more attached to him. He came to visit you almost every night, sometimes flying through your bedroom window, where you would read him stories or vise versa, until you fell asleep.

There were so many fond memories he had left you with.

You reached out a hand, caressing the petals of a nearby snowdrop, more memories flashing through your mind.

They always adored your garden, how it was filled with different flowers and vegetables. In honour of them you continued to upkeep it. Never a day went by that you weren't in your garden, pulling out weeds, watering the colourful array of flowers, tending the vegetable patches. You wished to create the perfect human-made fairy garden in the world, for them to come play and relax, laugh and dance just as you used to in your childhood days. You even went as far as making houses for them, each one filled with miniature furniture you had hand crafted yourself.

You had dedicated so much time to them. Put your heart and soul into everything you made, not a leaf out of place in your perfect garden.

So why haven't they come back? It has been six years and you haven't received so much as a goodbye from them. They just stopped coming to see you.

Your family had always brushed off your claims of fairies visiting the garden as just your childish imagination running wild, but you were much older now. Your obsession was starting to worry them. You mother thought it was nice you had such a big imagination, the rest of them called you crazy and childish.

Despite their words, you couldn't bring yourself to believe that it was all just mere imagination. They were real, you talked to them, you played and danced with them, and you were going to prove them all wrong!

Your beliefs had stood strong for six whole years, but after reciting the same old routine of tending your fairy garden and checking the small mushroom houses, everyday single day. Your beliefs were dwindling.

Where had they gone? The more days that went by, days without signs of your magical friends, days that consisted of you being mocked and ridiculed by your family. You couldn't help but lose a little faith. Fears starting to invade the cracks left in your heart, fears of never seeing them again, fears of them never having existed in the first place.

Despite the ever growing shadow on your face, you continued your weekly routine of cleaning the mushroom houses. Even if they never came back, it would be a waste to let all your hard work catch dust. You couldn't even begin to guess how many hours you had spent on this project.

You grabbed a cloth and unclipped the roof from the walls so you could clean all the nooks and crannies, Beginning with the first house you had ever crafted. It was rounded like a fat mushroom, the roof was a dark green with lighter green polka dots decorating it. It was your favourite design, Made carefully and with a little green haired friend of yours in mind.

It had taken you months to finish this house alone, your face scrunched up remembering all the cuts, bruises and burns you had gotten in the process. It hadn't been easy, and a few times you almost gave up completely. However, seeing the fairy-sized bed, with small sewn duvets on top of it, an actual working fireplace, a kitchen with running water and a stove. It was all worth it. Who else could say they had tiny, fully functional, homes in their back garden?

You wrapped the cloth around your index finger, it was slightly damp, you used it to clean the floor first. Removing some of the furniture so it would be out of your way.

You picked up the couch, but once it was out of the way you noticed the floor was shining. Not from your careful cleaning but it looked like tiny green glitter had fallen to the ground.

Your heart stopped.

Tiny green glitter? Could it be? You used your finger to poke at the glitter, it clung to your skin and you brought it up to your eyes. How could something so small feel so familiar? They were like tiny green sparkles of hope.

Had he been here recently?

Your head shot up and you looked around for any more signs of life, rummaging through the other houses, the flower beds, the vegetable patches, anything you could think of.

As usual, you didn't find anything, yet you stood, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of not being crazy after all. Maybe they had been coming back and you hadn't noticed!?

You placed all the furniture back and put the roof on top of the house. If he had been coming back, then you had to find him! Just like when you were younger, you were going to play a game of hide and seek, but this time you were serious.

You were going to prove to everyone that you weren't crazy. You were going to prove that fairies are real! Most importantly, you might get to see your old friends again!

That very night you sat, curled up, by the window. The log fire offered a dim glow across the room, you didn’t want the lights to be on, fearing it could dissuade them from coming back. You draped a blanket over your shoulders, watching the mushroom house, your eyes not daring to move away in fear you would miss something.

Your family had tried to talk you out of this, telling you it was unhealthy to be so obsessed over this after you shared your findings over dinner. You still remembered the twisted frowns on their faces, even your mother looked worried for you. You sighed, head dipping down. Maybe they had a point, but after dedicating years to these fairies how could you just give up on them? Especially not now that you had a sign of their existence.

Hours went by, the log fire burning out along your hope, leaving behind nothing but a pile of blackened ash.

The moon was high into the sky, illuminating your garden. It looked exactly like it used to when you would stay away with the fairies all night. Except now, instead of toys, there were more vegetable patches and flower beds scattering the grass floor. As you looked out at it, ghosted memories flooded back to you. You could almost see your childhood self running around with them again.

You felt your eyes droop. What time was it? You weren't sure, all you could do was battle with your body for the ability to stay awake.

Your head was snug in the crease of your arm, the blanket falling from your shoulder. When the blanket finally fell off and hit your feet, it startled you awake. You gasped, your body jolting up as you slapped yourself awake. How could you almost doze off?! What if you had missed something!? You pulled the blanket back around you and leaned onto the window. The cold glass against your skin made you shiver, but it helped keep you awake.

The moon disappeared above your house, but your garden stayed illuminated by its light. It looked enchanting, like there was a spotlight on your garden and the audience was the universe. Through the beam of light your eyes caught sight of something, you rubbed your eye, wondering if it was just your imagination.

You gasped, diving behind the couch, your eyes the only part of you peeking out behind your cover, like an animal waiting to pounce on its prey. A trail of green dust danced in the wind, enticing you to follow it. You shot up from your seat and walked to the back door, as you pulled it open you prayed it wouldn’t creak too loudly and alert your visitor. You bit your lip, creating a gap just big enough for you to slip out of and walked across the garden, the grass tickling at your bare feet.

Your eyes widened, seeing the lights in the house on, you knelt down. Your legs were shaking so you steadied yourself with your hands. The door was shut, you knew this was your only chance to know the truth, to prove you weren’t crazy, and if it really was him, you could finally get some answers as to why he left. your hands were shaking as you were overcome with emotion, you hesitated to move, what if the answers weren’t going to be what you were looking for. Ignorance is bliss as they say.

You sat there, unmoving, knees tucked under your body and the chill of the night air caressing your skin. You could hear the sounds of pot’s clanking from behind the door. Had you any courage you would have peered in already, but your anxieties were holding you back.

After taking a shaky breath and mentally hyping yourself up, you curled your index finger, it hovered above the doors surface as you pushed against an invisible barrier. You closed your eyes and knocked on the door. Everything went silent. The feeling of wanting to slap yourself grew as the seconds ticked by and not a movement was made. The pit of your stomach churned, it felt like you had been sat there for an eternity.

Much to your delight, the door was pulled open and out poked a familiar face. “Izu..” You breathed out, tears pricking at your eyes. You hand flew up to your mouth as you choked back a sob. He hadn’t changed much, he was bigger now, but still only around the size of your palm. His jade curls fell around his face, sticking up in all directions as if he had just rolled out of bed, his rounded eyes filled with inner conflict. The door wasn’t opened fully but you could still see his wings peeking out from behind him, glowing brighter than ever.. Leaves were sewn together to create clothes on his body. A creative yet uncomfortable way to avoid nudity. His eyes were staring up at you like you were a three headed monster, come to end his life. He was frozen in place.

Your lips parted, words threatened to spill from them. You weren’t sure what to say, you had thought about this moment so many times, about what you would say, and yet your mind was blank. As you wrecked your brain to form a sentence a slam brought you from your thoughts. You blinked, the door was shut before you even got to say anything. It felt like a giant slap to your face. After years of imagining the moment you would see your friends again, this was never an outcome you expected. Your hands slipped from your face, trembling in front of you.

You didn’t understand, didn’t he remember you? You still lived in the same house, your looks hadn't changed that much apart from getting taller and your chubby child features melting away, you were practically the same! Maybe he hated you? Maybe that's why he stayed away from you all these years. Thoughts swirled around your head like a whirlpool, your bottom lip quivered, tears rolling down your face.

No matter how much you were hurting, you were insistent on having a conversation with him. You finally had him back, the least he could do was give you some answers. You lifted your hand to knock again, but before your finger could tap on the wood it opened, revealing a much more bashful looking fairy than before. Instead of his usual green glow, he was now glowing pink. How strange...

“Sorry, I panicked.” He chose to look at his feet instead of your face, he couldn’t see. You let out a dry laugh, you tried to relax now he was in front of you again, but you could barely hold back the sobs. “Do you remember me?”

He nodded, his curls bouncing as he did so. You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It felt like a dream but you knew it was real. The cold night air on your exposed skin, the sound of his voice as he admitted to panicking; Not even your imagination could be this vivid, he was here, in front of you.

“How could I ever forget you Y/n?” He rubbed his arm, holding himself for comfort. The blanket fell from your shoulders when your body finally relaxed. “You are real.” you breathed, gaze fixed on him.

Your outspoken confirmation had sent yet another slap to your face. You felt like you were being thrown into a frenzy. You swirling thoughts were making you dizzy. They were real, if your family could see him they would finally believe you! All those jokes about you being crazy would be put to an end! You’d be free from ridicule! All you would have to do is take him inside, “I- I have to show you to my family! They think i'm insane! But you’re real! You were all real, and-” You shot up from the ground, stumbling in the process from the erratic movement. “Please! You have to come with me-”

“No!” He panicked and flew up from the stone steps on the mushroom house to be face level with you. It had been so long since you were able to see him up close. “No one can know about us!”

“But-” You wanted to argue but one look in his eyes and you saw how scared he was. You looked down, biting your tongue from saying anything else. His eyes had always reminded you of the forest on a sunny day, peaceful, filled with warmth. So seeing them filled with sorrow had, theoretically, stabbed your heart. “Why did you show yourselves to me then?”

He expected you’d have many questions.. He sighed and slowly fluttered forward so he was closer to your face. It felt like you two were in your own personal bubble, the rest of the world trapped outside of your secret space.

“When we were children, my friends and I found you playing alone in your garden. Our parents never found out about it, we were interested in humans and didn’t see the harm in approaching you. We watched you for weeks, you were always alone but you seemed so nice. We were only going to do it once but, eventually, one day turned into everyday but what we did was stupid and very forbidden by our people. We had to stop before our parents found out if they had, they would have erased your memory using their magic. I didn’t-.. We didn’t want you to forget us.” He corrected, mentally kicking himself for the slip up

You hadn’t caught his slip up, your brain was trying to process the new information. At least you finally had the answers you had been looking for. It finally made sense, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You sat back down on the grass, pulling your legs to your chest. They felt like jelly, and you didn’t trust them to support the rest of your body right now. Izuku flew down with you, hovering just above your legs. He took the break of silence to study your features. You looked a lot more mature now, as he assumed he did to you. You were both only 10 last time he saw you, now it had been about 6 years, a lot had changed yet you were still just as beautiful as he remembered you to be.

You remained silent, did you really have nothing to say to him? Or perhaps you were mad? The look on your face said otherwise, your features were relaxed yet your eyes seemed so distant. As if you were in another world to his. You weren’t sure how to feel, you had more questions now than ever before.

“Did you make these?” He finally found a way to break the silence, he gracefully glided down to the mushroom houses you had hidden amongst the blooming flowers. It was the perfect height for him, which was surprising. It was a beautifully designed house, he noted all the little details you had, each carved design was a pattern of passion. The fact you placed them into your flower beds made it even more perfect, it kept them surrounded by nature and beauty just like fairies loved to be. He wasn’t sure how you were able to know all of this, but it was the perfect fairy home, he really wished he would stay and live here in your garden. Not only for the beautiful environment you had created for them, but to see you everyday, to play and dance just like you used to do.

Your head lifted, a smile gracing your lips. “Yeah, I made them for you guys in case you ever came back.”

Your words struck him through the heart without the intent. He was facing away, his hand placed onto the frame of the door, caressing the hand carved design. He was guilt ridden, he had been for years but seeing this, how you waited for them to come back, it tore him up inside. He knew he should’ve said something before leaving you, he really tried to. His friends convinced him that he should be the one to deliver the message, you two had always had this unspoken bond as children.

However, when the time came, he couldn’t do it. He was nothing more than a coward. The words wouldn’t come out no matter how hard he tried to force them, like there was an invisible force squeezing at his neck, trapping the words in his throat. He didn’t want his last image of you to be a sad one. He didn’t want to have to fly away to the sounds of your cries. The thought crushed him, so he ran away from it, and now he was stuck regretting it for the rest of his life, he knew he couldn’t make up for what he did to you.“You have to leave again don’t you?”

Your voice ripped him from his thoughts, he dared not turn around. The sorrow in your voice was enough to make him wince. Just like the day he had left without warning, his voice failed him. He could barely manage a nod but you caught it. “For good?” Another nod, his head hung low, shoulder trembling. Suddenly feeling grateful for being sat down you hunched over. Your hair covering your eyes as you breathed out. Perhaps you would’ve been better off if this was a dream after all.

Another silence hung between you two, it was painful. The air felt heavy, a pressure weighing down on both of your shoulders that had built up over the last six years. Izuku shook his head, he couldn’t let things end like this. He couldn’t do it to you again. He may not be able to stay but there was something else he could do.

Tear’s silently escaped your eyes, falling onto the grass floor beneath you like sorrowful raindrops. You kept your eyes and mouth shut tight, you didn’t want him to see you crying before he left, but how could you not be upset by such a cruel fate? He had always taken up such a big part of your heart, and now he was telling you he was going to leave and you’d most likely never see each other again.

A pair of smaller hands cupped your cheeks, lifting your face up. Your tears soaked his hands but he didn’t mind. He smiled, rubbing at the wet trails on your cheeks with his forearm. Without a word between you, he flew down and grabbed one of your hands with both of his. He tugged at it and you stood up, allowing him to silently guide you. He took you out of your back garden and into the forest that resided on the other side of your fence. The thought of going into a forest at night scared you, even with a trusted friend guiding you. The further you strayed from home the darker it got, trees obstructing the moon's light as you stepped into the forest. Izuku's green glow acted as a torch, keeping you safe from darkness.

After 5 minutes of walking in silence, your lips pulled into a frown, “Where are we going?” You finally asked with a bit of hesitance, one of his hands held onto your index finger, pulling you through the maze of trees with expertise. You stumbled and winced as stones and twigs poked at your bare feet like tiny needles. You had to rely on the glowing of your friend and what little of the moon's rays peaked through the trees to light your surroundings.

He didn’t reply to your question, but he didn’t need to. He guided you around a giant oak tree, and once you did your jaw dropped.

Fireflies danced around the open space between the trees, gathering together to create a soft golden glow in the cloud of darkness, like a million little lanterns floating in the sky. Flowers and vines decorated the trees wrapping around like snakes. There were no more stones and twigs for you to worry about as your feet hit the grass. It felt like a soft blanket under your sore feet. It was a grassy stage, the moon hit down on the open area like a spotlight, much like it had back in your garden. There were no overhanging branches that blocked it's path with shadows. It was enchanting, like something right out of a fairy tale.

Subconsciously you stepped forward into the light, your breath knocked out of you. You were so entranced by what you were seeing that you didn’t get to see the way Izuku was staring at you. It was something that you would never be able to see again. The way his lips curled up, eyes sparkling with fondness for you. The moon's light hit you perfectly, giving you a white glow, like an angel. Maybe you were an angel in disguise, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“It’s… amazing.” That was an understatement, but how were you supposed to put this into words? It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. He smiled and flew in front of you so he could take in your expression, your lips were parted and slightly curled at the edges. He could see the reflection of dancing fireflies in your doe eyes.

He couldn’t care less about the fireflies behind him. In his eyes, you were way more breathtaking, and to see your smile again after so many years, it made his heart melt.

"There's something else." He brushed past you, making you finally snap from your trance. He flew over to a particularly large tree, there was a small circular hole in it, showing its hollowed out insides. He disappeared into, and when he came back he carried a vial with a strange blue liquid inside. "I was saving it for something special and I suppose there's nothing more special than being here, with you, right now." He pulled the cork out and drank the strange liquid.

You watched silently as a blue light circled around him soon engulfing him in a blinding light. You turned your head away and closed your away in fear of being permanently blinded. You didn’t know when it would be safe to turn back, so you waited until a hand cupped your face.

A much... larger hand. You opened your eyes, gasping when you saw your fairy was human sized, he was just a touch taller than you. The increase in his size made his features more prominent, you could finally see how handsome he really was. You could admire his freckles, the way his hair brushes against the top of his eyes, you even got a closer look at this leaf clothing. They were skilfully stitched to fit his body, you wondered if he did it himself.

He smiled, watching you lean into his hand, nuzzling into his hold.. "Care to dance?" He asked softly, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheek. Such a simple action, yet it held so much love, you felt breathless. Your heart was beating too fast for your lungs to keep up with.

You nodded and stepped forward. His hands placed themselves on your waist as your hands went up to his shoulders. His hands trembled, his touch feather-like, as if he was scared to break you.

The lack of music didn't bother either of you, with the orange glow of the fireflies, the moon's lights shining down on you, and the blissful sounds of nature, it was perfect the way it was. You followed his lead as you swayed back and forth together, this offer to dance had been nothing more than an excuse to hold you close one last time. It didn't matter that neither of you knew how to slow dance, or that you were in your nightgown, barefooted. You were in each other's arms and that was all that mattered.

Before he knew it, your head was resting against his shoulder, a melodic light humming filled his left ear. It sent shivers down his spine, his wings fluttering behind him as you hummed a secret song. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against yours, your hair tickled his nose as he tried to memorise your scent. He wanted this moment to be engraved into his brain forever.

You slow danced for so long, he had lost track of time. Neither of you were willing to let go, it was too hard to do this again. Everything felt so perfect, so tranquil. like you were the only two people in the world.

He finally got the willpower to peek his eye open, the sun's rays peeking over the horizon and disturbing the moon's glow. The stars, that were witness to your dance, were disappearing from the sky. It was time to go, yet you were blissfully unaware of this as you continued to hum into his ear. You hadn’t opened your eyes a single time since you’ve been in his arms, you were too scared to open them and have to face reality.

With every ounce of strength he had in his body his hands trailed up to your shoulders, memorising the feeling of your skin, he hesitantly pushed you away. He held you at arm length, your eyes opening and staring into his.

You looked scared.

He smiled at you, moving forward to rest his forehead against yours. "Close your eyes." He whispered, and without hesitation your eyes fluttered close. Your hand gripped onto his, as a way to make sure he wasn't going to disappear.

He released a shaky breath as he took your hand into both of his. Cupping it protectively. After a few seconds of nothing but shuffling, you felt something being placed into your palm. It was thin and light, you almost peaked an eye open but one hand came up to cover your eyes.

You patiently stood there, not daring to question what he was up to. A few seconds went by before you felt a feather-like kiss being placed onto your lips. You sharply inhaled through your nose. His kiss lingered for a long time, silently telling you he loved you. His hand squeezed yours when you kissed back, eagerly leaning into the affection. Lips moulded together, with no haste to pull away anytime soon.

When his lips reluctantly left yours, the hand covering your eyes didn't move. You smiled, your heart racing at the sweet gesture. His hand fell away, but your eyes remained closed, you felt another kiss be placed on top of your head, his nose bumping against your skin.

“I love you.” He whispered, a quiet confession confined to your shared bubble.

He pulled away, his hand releasing yours. You waited for him to do something else, to tell you to open your eyes now, but there was nothing…You figured he was done and so you opened your eyes. You gasped for breath, placing a hand over your heart. It felt like a knife had stabbed through your chest.

He was gone.

The fireflies had disappeared, the moon had disappeared, and so had your beloved fairy. The only sign that he had really been here was the lingering feeling of his lips on yours, they tingled with leftover electricity.

Looking down to the gift he had left you, you found a flower, a forget-me-not to be exact.

You swallowed, eyes stinging as pools of tears gathered in the corners. You used your fingers to gently caress the petals. It figures that he would choose to leave you with this of all flowers.

You held it close to your chest, staring up at the newly lit sky, the sun cast orange hues over the forest, it was beautiful, but you couldn’t admire it, too bitter at the star for ruining your night. You wanted to see the moon again, to dance under the stars for hours more,

"As if I could forget you." You let out a breathy laugh, closing your eyes so you could pretend it was still night. "I love you too."

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Shades of Pink

Request: Hi! Can I request a Harry Potter x reader oneshot where the reader is a metamorphomagus (sorry if I mispelled) and her hair changes to a certain color when she's around Harry bc she's in love with him? preferably set during their howarts years, thanks in advance!

A/N: I love this request, I love writing for Harry so much bc he’s so awkward and bumbling! I hope I’ve done it justice and that it meets your expectations! ALSO! Two fics in one night! I’d like to thank the Mamma Mia soundtracks as well as the Moulin Rouge! soundtrack for making this possible. It couldn't be done without you <3 I’d like to take the time it apologise to my taglist for another notification from me, please don’t hate me too much. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy reading! Love to you all! Banner by the incredibly talented @peachesandpinks

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing and fluff - lots of fluff.

Word count: 1.9k

In the mornings your hair is a warm brown as the heaviness of sleep still lingers.

By breakfast, it’s turned to a neon pink that draws attention from all tables in the Great Hall. It only gets brighter as you sit down next to Harry.

As a young metamorphmagus, the changes were still unpredictable, and the added combination of hormones and first love made it all the more difficult to hide your feelings.

Falling for Harry felt entirely natural; as if your love for The Chosen One was part of your genetic makeup. It had taken one smile, that was all. He smiled at you in Third Year as you were arguing with Ron, and you were a goner. That had been three years ago; now in your Sixth Year, it was safe to say you were half way in love with the messy-haired teenager.

“What’s caused your hair to change colours this morning?” Hermione asks, taking a bite of her toast, “It was brown when we woke up.”

You stare at your plate as you mumble, “It’s when I get overwhelmed by my feelings. I’m still trying to control it all.”

Hermione’s eyes cast over the two boys sitting with them, clueless to the conversation, “Do you have a crush on someone?” she whispers.

You bite your lower lip, nodding. Hermione has to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep the happy squeak from leaving her lips; she spent so much time with Harry and Ron that it was nice to be involved in a conversation that didn’t revolve around Quidditch.

“Who? Who is it that’s turning your hair pink?”

You let your eyes slip to Harry, sipping at his morning pumpkin juice, nodding along with whatever Ron was saying, without a clue to your feelings. Hermione catches on immediately; they don’t call her the brightest witch of her age for nothing.

“This is perfect!” She almost shouts; ignoring your wide eyes.

“How?”

“He likes you back! He told me the other night!”

You don’t get a chance to reply. Harry’s hand lands on your shoulder, pulling all of your attention to him. If possible, your hair gets even pinker. He smiles at you, “Come on, we don’t want to be late for Potions, it isn’t worth the looks from Slughorn.”

You sigh, taking a last drink of your orange juice, “I suppose not.”

Hermione and Ron strike up a conversation behind you and Harry; Hermione pestering Ron over whether he plans to complete his homework for this week or let it gather dust.

You and Harry walk close together; hands brushing every now and then and you can’t ignore the jolt of electricity sent up your arm sending your heart racing. Alongside your hair changing colour when feelings overwhelmed you, it would also grow at unprecedented rates.

“(Y/N)?” Harry calls.

“Yes?”

“Is your hair supposed to be growing that fast?”

“Merlin’s beard!” You shout, your hands flying to your hair where it was now cascading down your back. You sigh, “No, Harry, it isn’t supposed to be doing that.”

“Oh… alright. Do you need to go sort it out? I’ll tell Slughorn that you’ll be late.”

“That’s sweet of you, Harry but no, I’ll be fine, I just need a minute.”

He nods, stopping in the corridor to wait with you. Ron and Hermione also stop with you; all watching you as you close your eyes and begin to calm yourself down.

Hermione grabs your hand and squeezes once, understanding your current predicament. you were finding it to concentrate with the very reason for your distraction watching you with concern written all over his face.

You refuse to open your eyes as you ask, “How does it look?”

“It’s still neon pink, if that’s what you were concerned about,” Ron says.

You sigh again, opening your eyes, “It’ll stay pink for a while. I was more concerned about the length; I didn’t want to be tripping over it as I walked to class.”

Hermione smiles, squeezing your hand once more before letting it drop, “It’s back to your shoulders.”

“How do you do that?” Harry asks, voice somewhat breathless with wonder.

“It starts to grow out when I become overwhelmed over something. I try to control it by taking deep breaths and thinking of calming things.”

“You’re wonderful,” He blurts out, blushing once he realises what he says.

Ron claps him on the shoulder, failing to hold in his laughter, “You’re proper smooth, you, Potter.”

Hermione smacks him on the arm with her book, “Shut up, Ronald! He’s smoother than you at least.”

Ron splutters as Hermione continues to look at him unimpressed. Harry hasn’t taken his eyes off you.

You clear your throat, ending the argument between the two of them, “We’re late for Potions.”

The four of you fall into silence as you run to the classroom where Slughorn greets with you with five points from Gryffindor each for tardiness and a look of disappointment.

Sitting in your assigned seat, you try to focus on the lesson that Slughorn is delivering but your mind keeps flashing back to the moment that happened not even ten minutes ago. To the look on Harry’s face as he watched you change your appearance.

Catching sight of your face in the glass cupboards, you’re pleased to see that your hair has faded to a baby pink. Much better than the neon pink you were sporting as you entered the classroom. Taking a deep breath, you turn away from your reflection and try to focus on Slughorn and recognising the side effects of Amortentia.

How fitting.

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

The Gryffindor common room is quiet as you lounge on the couch in front of the fire. Your History of Magic essay laid out in front of you. You read over your words, hoping they form a convincing argument surrounding the witch hunts of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and whether it was a purposeful event triggered by other magical creatures to keep muggles off their scent.

You yawn as you read and reread your conclusion; hoping that it sounds strong enough for Professor Binns to mark it as Outstanding. Giving your eyes a break, you look around the common room seeing a few students here and there, all focused on their own work.

You catch eyes with Harry as he lands on the last step of the staircase leading to the dormitories. The way his eyes move upwards tells you that your hair has turned to the neon pink that you’ve become so familiar with these past few years.

Harry smiles at you as he joins you on the couch. You chide yourself as your heart begins to race and your hands become sweaty.

“History of Magic?” Harry asks, reading over the title of your essay.

You nod, moving the pile of parchment so he has room to sit down, “I wanted to get it done while I had the motivation.”

“I should probably take a leaf from your book.” He laughs, thinking of the pile of essays he has yet to complete.

“It’s not a bad idea, Potter. I don’t mind helping you, you know that.”

“I know,” He says, softly.

You turn away from him, focusing on the roaring fire in front of you. Your eyes follow the imaginary shapes the flames make as they devour the logs beneath them.

“I meant what I said this morning,” Harry whispers.

“You did?”

“You’re wonderful and entirely colourful.”

Your feelings start to be too much; your feelings for the boy sat next to you become too much.

“I think I’ve seen your hair about a thousand shades of pink, but I have no clue what it mean.” Harry murmurs, reaching out to grab a strand your hair, curling it around his finger before letting it drop back to your shoulder.

It’s such a loving move that you almost internally combust.

Harry looks you in the eyes, “What does pink mean?”

You cough, clearing your throat, “Truthfully?”

“Truthfully.”

“It means love.”

Harry’s eyes widen, “Love?”

“Yeah, it means love. The brighter the pink gets, the more overwhelmed I am.”

“It’s pink when you talk to me.” He says, making the connection at last.

You start to play with your fingers, refusing to look him in eye, “Yeah, I know.”

“You love me?” He asks, one of his hands reaching to grab one of your hands.

You take a deep breath, meeting his blue-eyes head on, “I do.”

He releases a breath, “Thank Merlin! I’ve liked you for so long.”

“You have?”

Harry nods, wildly, “Since Fourth Year – after the first task in the Triwizard Tournament when you were ready to duel Dumbledore after you saw how injured I was.”

“I would have as well if you’d have let me. I’m still pissed about it.”

Harry grins, “What about you?”

“Since Third Year. It sounds silly, but you smiled at me over breakfast when I was arguing with Ron and I was a goner.”

“It’s not silly at all,” Harry says quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You smile at him, happy that you had finally told him how you felt. You were ecstatic that he felt the same way.

He shuffles closer to you; his thigh now lining up against yours. “I want to try something, if that’s okay?”

You whisper your consent, not daring to speak any louder. Not for the fear of someone hearing, but for the fear of breaking the bubble you find both of you in.

His hand cradles your cheek; his touch soft, as if he’s not entirely certain this is happening. You lean into his touch, savouring the feel of his hand on your face.

His eyes search yours for permission; you nod, a small movement but it’s enough for him. He leans in and presses his lips to yours hesitantly; testing the waters. He doesn’t expect you to gasp against his mouth; your body reacting instinctively to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you. Harry gets more confident, relishing in your reaction to him. His mouth becomes more insistent, and he starts to press you into the couch. His body hovering over yours; lips still connected. There was nothing but raw emotion in the way Harry’s hands began to travel down your body; committing to memory every dip and curve in your body.

Some distant part of your brain knew that you would have to pull away soon before things could go further, but the feel of his hands and his lips were distracting you perfectly. And you soon found yourself not really caring whether you were creating a scene for the whole common room to watch.

Someone clearing their throat has you pulling away from each other, gasping for air. Looking over the back of the couch, both Ron and Hermione stand a few feet away from the couch; the look on Hermione’s face tells you it was not her that had interrupted.

Ron grins, asking, “Were you enjoying yourself, (Y/N)?”

“I was before we were interrupted,” You frown.

“I love this colour on you by the way, it suits you.” Ron chuckles, pointing to your hair. He pulls Hermione away before you can reply, but she offers you a wide smile as she follows the Weasley out of the room.

You groan, “It’s neon pink isn’t it?”

Harry barks out a laugh, “It is, but guess what?”

“What?” You asks, peeking out from his neck, where you had hidden your face.

Harry kisses you lightly – once, twice, three times, before replying, “It’s my favourite shade of pink.”

*********

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @slytherinprincess03 @mischiefsemimanaged @soleil-amaryllis @masterofthedarkness @bforbroadway @chaotic-fae-queen @peachesandpinks @nebulablakemurphy @haphazardhufflepuff @siriusly-addicted-to-writing

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journalofimprobablethings · 3 years

Text

@taznovembercelebration - Day 23 - Cooking

Angus reminds Taako so much of Lucretia, sometimes, it hurts.

It’s the intensity of his focus, the earnestness with which he watches Taako’s every move whenever they have a lesson. That endless curiosity.

Today, Taako is teaching Angus how to make French onion soup.

Taako is teaching Lucretia how to make French onion soup.

“The key,” he says, “is to cook the onions low and slow. You get impatient, crank up the heat, the onions will scorch and get bitter and your soup will be ruined. You got that?”

“Got it,” Angus says. His tongue pokes out between his teeth as he carefully writes down Taako’s instructions.

Lucretia nods, scribbling furiously in her notebook.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing this down.”

“This isn’t part of the mission, Creesh. It doesn’t have to go in the log.”

“But I want to remember it.”

“You gonna remember this, Ango?”

“Yes, sir.”

Taako sets Angus to chopping onions while he gathers the rest of the ingredients. He shows Angus how to hold the knife at the base of the blade for better control, how to cut off the root end of the onion in order to have a flat surface to balance it on before cutting it in half.

“Are you sure you want to trust me with this knife, Taako?” Lucretia asks. “I don’t have the best track record with this sort of thing.” She looks down at her hand, and the place on her fingers where the scar should be from a knife slipped while peeling potatoes.

“You’ll be fine. Just take it slow, and curl your fingers in so your knuckles act as a guide for the knife. Like this.”

Angus looks excited and terrified in equal measure as he takes the chef’s knife and slowly, carefully, begins to slice the onions.

“Why does this feel scarier than magic, sir?”

“I’m more scared of this knife than I am of half the spells I’ve learned,” Lucretia says.

She bites her lip in concentration as she slowly, carefully, slices the onions.

“You’re just not used to it yet. You’ll get it.”

The onions are sliced, tossed into a pan with an obscene amount of butter. (“Butter makes everything taste better,” Taako says.) Angus hops up to sit on the counter next to the stove, watches Taako as he stirs.

“Sir, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why are we having cooking lessons today instead of magic lessons? I’m glad to learn this, too,” he says quickly. “I was just wondering.”

Lucretia stands next to him at the stove, leaning on her elbow to peer into the pot at the slowly reducing pile of onions.

“Even without your transmutation, cooking is a kind of magic, isn’t it?” she says.

“Cooking is magic, too, Ango,” Taako says. “Transmutation by means of heat and time. Turns this pile of tearjerkers into sweet, sweet caramelized goodness.”

Angus peers down at the mountain of onions in the pan.

“If it’s transmutation, sir, couldn’t you just magic them? Then we could have soup now instead of in a couple hours!”

Taako shrugs. “I could, I guess. But they don’t taste the same. It loses something. Some things, it’s just worth taking the time to do it right.”

This soup, they do right.

Forty minutes later, the pile of white onions has reduced to a mess of deeply browned, caramel perfection. Angus steals one from the pan, and his eyes go wide when he tastes it.

Lucretia tastes an onion from the pot and closes her eyes for a second in sheer pleasure.

“Taako, this is--

--delicious, sir!”

“What did I tell you, Ango? Magic.”

They deglaze the pan with white wine (“don’t worry, Agnes, all the alcohol cooks off”), add broth and thyme and a bay leaf, and leave the soup to bubble on the stove.

“Is it almost ready, sir? I'm--

--starving."

“Patience, young grasshopper. It’ll be ready soon.”

“I never would have thought that you would have the patience for something like this,” Lucretia says.

“All my patience goes into my cooking,” Taako says. “I don’t have any left for anything else.”

For the final step, Taako shows Angus how to float thick pieces of toast on top of the bowls of soup, piled with cheese, and slip them under the broiler to melt.

And finally, finally, they are sitting at the table with their bowls, topped with golden, molten cheese. Angus blows carefully on his spoonful before he tastes it, and then lets out an involuntary sound of delight.

“This is amazing, sir!”

“Of course it is. We made it.”

Angus grins.

"Look at that," Taako says as he pulls the bowls out from under the broiler.

Lucretia takes a deep sniff and grins, and her smile could light up the room.

They are about halfway through their soup when Angus asks,

“Can I take some of this to the Director? She’s been working late a lot and I think she forgets to eat.”

Taako’s spoon goes still, and he looks down at his bowl.

“You don’t have to call her that anymore, Angus.”

“I know. It just feels strange to call her anything else.”

Taako laughs softly. He thinks of all the names he used have for Lucretia--Lucy, Luce, Creesh, Keesha, Lucy-loo. Do any of them fit now?

“Yeah.”

Angus hesitates, pushing his toast down under the surface of his soup, then letting rise back to the top.

“Taako, do you…do you think you’ll ever be friends again?”

Taako sighs. Angus has always had a talent for asking the hard questions. “I don’t know, Ango. It’s like the soup, you know? It’s just going to take time.”

He pauses, his mind on a different kitchen, a different cooking lesson.

“Go ahead and take her some,” he says finally. “She likes French onion soup.”

Taako and Lucretia sit at the kitchen table with their bowls of soup. Everyone else is still out on recon missions, so it’s just the two of them.

Lucretia blows on her spoonful of soup—just like Angus, or he is just like her—and takes a bite. She laughs.

“That is some damn fine transmutation magic.”

“That’s how we do,” Taako says, and digs into his own bowl.

Angus appears at Lucretia’s office door, holding a bowl covered with a cloth carefully in both hands. She looks up at the sound of his footsteps and smiles when she sees him.

“Madam Director—I mean, Lucretia, ma’am. Taako and I made you some transmutation magic!” Angus uncovers the bowl with a dramatic flourish that would make Taako proud. “Otherwise known as French onion soup.”

He doesn’t understand why Lucretia starts to laugh, and then almost immediately starts to cry.

#taz november celebration #taz balance #taako #taz lucretia #angus mcdonald #the stolen century #wee experimental formatting #tbh this might be a little angsty for tnc #sorry #it's mostly cute but sad at the end because taako and lucretia make me sad #bittersweet #scribblings

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sammystep · 3 years

Text

No One Lives Forever- CH11

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

The sky is painted bright orange and red by the time the pack arrives at the next camp site. The fall colors on the trees make the world look like it’s made of gold and rubies cemented to black cast iron trees in silhouette. The path to the camp ground is narrow but still large enough for the truck to navigate as Avdol drives carefully down the one lane trail. Kakyoin had kept in mind the need to be able to transform at will tonight and found a private campsite that promised a ‘true survival experience’ according to the reviews online.

Your attention is dragged away from the fall scenery outside as Jotaro shifts in his sleep, his head resting in your lap as he lays sideways on the bench seat of the back row. You adjust the hoodie you’d thrown over his sleeping figure and gently brush back his hair before returning your hand to rest on his arm. He’d been exhausted after the last fight and started nodding off almost as soon as you had set out. After the third time he leaned too far forward and jerked himself awake you gave in and decided to risk the embarrassment of the others teasing -or worse, Jotaro’s rejection- and offered to let him lay down. He looked confused for a moment but you patted your lap in invitation. He snuck a quick glance to the rest of the pack before shifting and laying down. You were both tense at first at first but you hesitantly ran your hand over his hair and he loosened up considerably. Soon he was fully asleep on you.

Joseph and Polnareff also seem to be sleeping, or close to it in the middle row seats, but a particularly rough bump in the road shakes the truck enough to wake everyone. Jotaro grumbles as he sits up, sweatshirt falling off and revealing the tank top and bandages on his shoulder. He looks it for a moment before handing it back to you with a gruff ‘thanks’, his voice raspy with sleep.

“It’s no problem. Feeling better?” you ask as you bundle the sweater on your lap.

“A bit. Still sore as hell.” He tries his best to stretch in the confined space. Another bump in the road almost causes him to bump his head on the roof and he slumps in his seat to avoid it happening again as the bumps and rocking get more extreme.

“Ah, that must be the camp site ahead.” Kakyoin says as he looks up from the map on his phone and points to the clearing now visible after cresting a small hill. The truck is barely still for a second before Polnareff jumps out and starts stretching. The rest of you follow his example, the cramped car ride after transforming and fighting not doing your muscles any favors. Like the site you just left this one was also empty but located much deeper in the forest. Perfect for keeping off the grid until morning.

The last campers had left some firewood under the cover of a nearby pine tree so you work to quickly clear the ashes from the fire pit. With the help of Jotaro’s lighter, a good size fire crackled happily to life just as the sun set. The rest of the pack had split up to investigate the clearing and into the woods beyond while you built the fire, but the rustling of bags draws everyone back in. Joseph makes his way over carrying as many bags of snacks as he can, “Dinner time! Looks like the choices tonight are beef jerky, chips or candy.” You all gather and take a seat on the logs laying near the fire and start passing around the bags.

While a meal of snacks wouldn’t be filling for long, for now it was enough to leave you all satisfied. Joseph is sitting with Polnareff and Avdol across from where you are seated between Jotaro and Kakyoin and sets off the first contagious yawn. You can hear his back crack as he stretches, your own eyes watering from the strength of your yawn. Polnareff laughs and slaps Joseph on the back, “Ha, looks like it’s past the old wolf’s bed time!” Joseph can’t refute this as he goes to reply and gets caught by another epic yawn.

“We should go over sleeping arrangements though. The truck is too small for all of us to sleep in and we only have a fire because the last campers left some wood.” Kakyoin says as he leans forward toward the fire and rests his head in his hand. He moves his sharp gaze around the clearing looking for any other supplies or natural resources that could be used. He heaves a sigh and drops his gaze back to the fire.

Jotaro hums in though as he looks around as well. “With all the encounters we’ve had just today I think we should take shifts on patrol. The truck can probably hold two people if we fold down some seats. The rest of us will have to spend the night transformed, for safety and for warmth.” The rest of the pack nods in agreement. “Avdol, are you ok driving the rest of the way tomorrow?”

Avdol tilts his head at the change of subject. “Yes, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good,” Jotaro leans back and stretches a bit as he explains, “you and the old man can sleep in the truck tonight, the rest of us will pair up and patrol in shifts.”

“Well wait a moment Jotaro, I can patrol too!” Joseph slaps his hands on his legs as he leans forward toward Jotaro. “I know I joke about it a lot but I’m not that old!”

Jotaro sighs as he closes his eyes and crosses his arms. “One of these days your age will catch up to you. Besides, you’ll need to be well rested to navigate for Avdol tomorrow. And you need to manage whatever is going on at the new headquarters once we get there.” He opens his eyes again and fixes Joseph with a steely gaze. Joseph scratches at his beard and looks away, not ready or willing to challenge Jotaro on this. You can’t really make out what he grumbles under his breath other than ‘not that old’.

Polnareff laughs and slaps Joseph on the back, “Ha! I’ll remember you said that next time you try and get out of trouble using that ‘frail old man’ card!” Joseph just grumbles more as everyone chuckles; you see a small smirk on his face as he turns away though.

“Fine, fine. Us old guys will sleep in the car while you young whippersnappers brave the cold out here. But don’t come knocking on my door in the middle of the night!”

Jotaro grins at his grandfather’s antics before turning his attention to the rest of the ‘youngsters’ in the pack. “I think we’ll be fine if we spend the night as wolves. The temperature shouldn’t be so cold that we can’t handle it. As for patrol and watch,” he pulls out his phone to check the time, “we’ll pair up for the night and morning shifts, that way all of us get at least a few hours of sleep.” Just the word sleep has Jotaro suppressing a yawn. “I’ll take one spot on the morning patrol, anyone else have a preference?”

You nod and speak up, “I’ll stay up for night shift, I’m not an early riser.” You blush and turn away from Jotaro as you realizes he’s seen you in action- or inaction- two mornings in a row now.

“I don’t really have a preference.” Kakyoin says from your other side, he must have interpreted your movement as looking for his answer, not just avoiding Jotaro.

“I guess that makes me the deciding vote, I’d rather stay up for the night watch than wake up early as well.”

With the patrols figured out for the night everyone starts to prepare for bed. It turns out though that you’re the only one with rough camping experience as the guys watch perplexed as you start gathering a pile of leaves to make a more comfortable spot than just the hard ground. “What, you guys never camped without gear before?” Three sets of eyes look away, embarrassed as Joseph starts cackling in the background.

“You’re going to have to show these city boys the ropes (Y/N)! I’m sure you can handle it.” Joseph says as he climbs into the cleared space in the back of the truck and shuts the door behind him.

“Wait, seriously? None of you have camped out without tents before?”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Joestar is right,” Kakyoin explains as he takes a step forward to better observe what you are doing, “is it really more complicated than just transforming to stay warm?”

“Well, that will keep you warm but it won’t make it more comfortable to sleep on the ground. Help me gather up some more leaves, we’ll make a two-person pile to use as a mattress. Then I’ll help you guys bundle up some pillows out of clothes so they don’t unravel overnight.” Jotaro raises an eyebrow but just shrugs and does as you instruct, the other two falling in line as well. Soon a pretty decent leaf pile is collected and you spread it out large enough for two adult males to fit comfortably. After showing the guys how to roll up pillows tight enough to withstand the tossing and turning that comes from sleeping on the ground you all scavenge the area for branches and sticks to keep the fire fed overnight. “Excellent! I’ll make campers out of you guys yet!”

“How is it you know all this anyway? You said you traveled a lot, but is this how you normally got from place to place?” Kakyoin asks as he drops off the last pile of sticks from his arms.

You wave off the comment, “Oh no, I usually had enough money to get a motel room or something. In a pinch I could sleep in my car for a night if I absolutely needed to. I actually learned all this camping stuff from family reunions. I have a lot of family when you start counting cousins and second cousins, and every year there is a reunion at the beginning of summer. We spend the whole weekend as wolves, hunting, racing, sleeping, occasionally fighting…” you smile and slap your hands free of dirt. “It’s really a great time, living wild for a weekend. Gets a lot of pent-up energy out, you know?”

“That sounds like a rather nice tradition.” Kakyoin gives you a kind smile, “Perhaps we should consider adopting it?” he turns his head towards Jotaro who just hums contemplatively before nodding. Another wave of contagious yawns overtakes the pack and you all decide its time to get some rest.

You all quickly shed your human forms for wolf fur, your senses sparking alive as your form shifts. Colors dim as your new sight allows for better night vision at the cost of reduced variation. You inhale deeply, expecting only the smells of woods and campfire but something slightly sour hangs in the air. Closing your eyes and lifting your nose to the wind you try and follow the trail but it’s gone as suddenly as it appeared, the wind chasing it away from you through the trees. You shake your head and snort to clear your nose. It was probably just some trash or something a previous camper forgot in the area.

Jotaro and Kakyoin get situated on the bed of leaves and Polnareff motions for you to join him at the edge of trees for your first patrol. The journey through the woods is slow going at first, both of you slightly on edge, not knowing what to expect. While you had more experience ‘living wild’ as you called it, Polnareff obviously had more experience hunting and tracking. He makes it a point to stop often to mark your trail with scratches on the trees and brushing up on other shorter bushes to leave his scent. He laughs at you a bit when he catches your curious gaze on the tree he just mauled, “What’s the matter? I thought you were used to camping out in this form?”

“Well yeah, but… I was always stuck hanging out with the pups. My dad and uncles split up patrol duty.”

“Ah, well in that case let me show you. I usually do this when I’m on a job to find someone in the city; its much easier to follow your nose back rather than loose track of a target because you were looking at a map.” He gestures to a tree ahead, “Go ahead and help out. It will probably help keep other animals away too if they smell too many predators in the area.”

“I was wondering why I didn’t hear anything moving around tonight. You think we scarred everything off?” you sniff the air again; you could tell some deer and rabbits had been through recently but only their scent remained now.

“Probably. They’d have to be pretty ill equipped to stay in an area with a bunch of wolves roaming about- or humans for that matter.” He lifts his nose and jogs ahead a few paces to a large boulder, “Here- this is where we started at. Now we just turn left and we’ll be back at camp.” You blink perplexed, you hadn’t really thought about how many turns you’d taken during your walk. Perhaps you were more tired than you thought.

The fire is burning low when you get back to the camp so you feed it some of the branches collected earlier, keeping the coals burning hot enough to reach the sleeping men and keep them a bit more comfortable. You take a seat next to Polnareff and grab one of the drink bottles from the snack pile. It’s a little tricky with your hands being larger and less dexterous than you are used to but you manage to open it and hand it to Polnareff before grabbing one for yourself. The lack of animal sounds around the campsite is still a little unnerving but you’re soon distracted when Polnareff turns to you and starts telling you about the time he had to covertly chase a target through an office building while dressed as a mailman, trying to catch the target in the act of cheating with his co-worker.

You take turns trying to one up each other with ridiculous stories, keeping an eye on the fire and the woods at the same time. You can’t help but let your attention drift every so often as Jotaro or Kakyoin move around in their sleep. Polnareff’s pointy elbow is suddenly nudging your side as he laughs at you, apparently, you’d been staring at the alpha long enough for Pol to notice. You quickly turn away even though your fur would cover any blush on your face. Standing up and moving to the woods again you initiate another patrol round, Polnareff snickering as you follow the trail left last time and refresh the scent marks.

The rest of your night on watch goes smoothly, and by the time your last patrol comes around you’re feeling a bit sleep drunk, playfully pushing Polnareff around on your walk as he teases you for being so concerned with keeping the fire warm and setting aside snacks for Jotaro and Kakyoin when they woke up. Really you were just trying to keep Polnareff from eating all the good snacks. You laugh and give a shove and he makes a show of exaggeratedly falling into a tree.

“Such violence! Just wait! I’ll tell on you to Joseph; we’ll see who’s laughing then!” the large wolfman throws a hand to his forehead like a swooning southern lady and points an accusing finger at you.

“Tell on me? What, you’re going to admit you can’t hold your own against me? He’ll just laugh and call you a spoiled pup again.” You continue slowly on the patrol path and wait for him to catch up.

“No, I’ll just tell him how you were making googly eyes at his grandson all night. You will never have another moments rest!” his triumphant smirk is infuriating even in his wolf form so you shove him off the path again and race back to camp, laughing as he playfully shoves you off course as he passes you.

Back at camp your eyes immediately go to the sleeping wolves and you have to admit maybe Polnareff has a point about you making ‘googly eyes’ at Jotaro; he and Kakyoin are tangled up in what would be a puppy pile if they were younger. You’re very tempted for a moment to not worry about waking them up for their patrol shift and just join the pile yourself, but your rational mind overcomes your instincts and you carefully wake them. Kakyoin wakes up quickly and makes his way to the remaining snacks near the fire. Jotaro however looks half asleep still so you keep him seated for a few moments longer on the leaf pile as you check the wounds on his shoulder hadn’t opened up or gotten too dirty in his sleep. You help him brush some crumbled leaves from his fur and you both make your way to the fire and sitting logs.

You grab a few packs of jerky and some drinks to help Jotaro wake up and you can’t help the startled yelp as he grabs your hand and pulls you down to sit next to him. You’re almost uncomfortably close, your side brushing against his any time either of you inhales. Jotaro doesn’t seem to notice how tense you are, he still looks half asleep as he mechanically eats the snacks you offered him while staring into the fire. You ignore Polnareff’s snickering and Kakyoin’s knowing looks from across the fire pit and hand over a drink to the alpha at your side. His arm brushes against yours as he takes it and you shiver as the contact marks you with his scent, even if it was accidental it is a highly intimate thing, usually reserved for very close pack mates.

“Did anything interesting happen while we were asleep? Anything we should know about?” Kakyoin tries to draw in Polnareff’s attention before he can start teasing you or Jotaro.

Polnareff is hyper focused on the opportunity to tease you though, “Non, non. In fact, you are witnessing the most interesting thing to happen all night,” he gestures to you both. Jotaro must be more awake as he looks back over his shoulder in confusion before he realizes what Pol is implying. You hear him mutter something as he shifts away from you, but only by a few inches so you were no longer joined at the hip.

“Seriously Polnareff?” he yelps and fumbles with a water bottle you throw at him. “But really, it has been pretty uneventful. We must have scared off everything around here.”

Jotaro tenses next to you and you look at him with a questioning tilt of your head. “You haven’t seen any animals around? Not even on perimeter patrol?”

“Uh, no. we just assumed we scared them all away.” Polnareff scratches his head, also confused by Jotaro’s concern. “Isn’t it natural to flee a place is a group of hunters moves in?”

“Maybe at first, but at least the animals in the trees should have come back by now…” Jotaro rubs his eyes and lowers his head with a huff, “Whatever, I’m probably over thinking it.” You glance around the camp site again, the peaceful quiet now more ominous as shadows cast from the fire dance behind trees and bushes.

“Oh, thanks a lot Jotaro. Giving me the creeps right before I go to bed.” Polnareff’s fur is standing on end making him appear comically fluffy. “I’m blaming you if I get no rest tonight. And after (Y/N) and I did such a good job on our watch.” He huffs as he attempts to smooth down his fur again.

The red wolf next to him just chuckles and shakes his head, “Well no one said you have to go to sleep. You’re free to stay up and keep an eye on camp if you want.” Kakyoin stands up and stretches as Polnareff mumbles to himself about needing his beauty sleep and shuffles over to the leaf bed.

You and Jotaro rise from your seats and you give another skeptical glance around at the trees before grabbing hold of Jotaro’s arm as he starts to walk away. This may be becoming a habit for you, grabbing onto his hand for reassurance. He faces you and tilts his head an you search for words as you make eye contact with him. “I…um… just…” you glance away and refocus on his face when he gives your hand a squeeze “Be careful?”

He nods and his stoic features soften slightly as he smiles, “We will, don’t worry. Go get some rest.” His hand lest go of yours and trails up your arm and around to your back to nudge you in the right direction. Too tired to put up any resistance, you follow his order. You’re asleep almost as soon as you lay down next to Polnareff in the leaf pile.

Kakyoin waits patiently at the entrance to the patrol path you and Polnareff created as Jotaro checks around camp. Avdol and the old man still asleep in the truck, the coals of the fire still hot enough that the heat reaches your sleeping spot, and there should be enough wood to keep it that way till morning. He’s satisfied with the state of things and casts one last critical glance to the shadows beyond the tree line before joining Kakyoin on the path. The silence of the forest is unnerving but easy to ignore, Polnareff was probably right about the animals keeping a wide berth around a group of predators.

His concentration is pulled from the surrounding woods by Kakyoin. “(Y/N) seems to be really fitting in well with the pack.” The red wolf faces ahead with a straight face, but there is a glint in his eyes as he glances back to Jotaro to gauge his reaction. “I don’t think I’ve seen you warm up to anybody as fast as you have to her. It’s a bit shocking you decided to trust her so soon if I’m honest.” He tries to keep his face neutral, but Jotaro can see the beginnings of a smug smirk.

“You saying I shouldn’t trust her?” Jotaro throws the statement back at him, years of experience turning Kakyoin’s teasing comments on their head coming into practice.

“Ha, no, not at all. She more than proved herself today.” He pauses, a more serious look on his face as he continues, “But even you have to admit, you’ve been acting very strange since you met her.”

“It’s… complicated. I don’t really want to talk about it.” Jotaro shakes his head and continues moving on.

Kakyoin stops in his tracks, “You know I wouldn’t push you unless I was worried about you. This may be your last chance for a while to get it out in the open. No audience, just us and the trees.” Kakyoin gestures to the woods and waits as Jotaro stops and contemplates his options.

He heaves a sigh before continuing to walk and Kakyoin grins knowing he’s won. “It’s complicated because I don’t really understand what’s going on myself. I know I don’t really know her yet, but at the same time I don’t care about that at all.” Jotaro ruffles his hair in frustration and embarrassment. “The old man thinks its my instincts trying to tell me she’s my mate, or potential mate at least. Logically, I know I should take it slow and get to know her first like a normal person, but…”

“But we’re not normal people Jotaro.” Kakyoin nods sagely, the internal issues clearer to him now. “But she’s not a normal person either. From what I can see, she’s just as eager to get closer to you too.” He can see Jotaro’s shoulders slump in relief as they keep walking the path. “You do have options here, but you need to figure out what you want first. And you don’t have to take Joseph’s words to heart. We’re not going to have the same thoughts on pack bonds and mates as the full wolf members of the pack do.”

“True.” Jotaro sighs again, “Maybe it’s just my human half making me over think this. Gramps and the others don’t seem to have a problem just following their instincts wherever they lead to.”

“Well, that doesn’t always work out perfectly either. That’s what my father did all his life and you know I only call home for mother’s sake these days.”

“I don’t think that’s a trait limited to wolves in that regard.” There is more of a growl in his voice than Jotaro intended. He clears his throat and continues, “Some fathers are just like that.” The rest of the walk back to camp is silent and Jotaro makes himself busy tending the fire when they arrive.

Kakyoin is equally subdued and takes a seat on the log next to Jotaro after raiding the drink selection. He hands over a bottle of beer and Jotaro quirks his head in question. Kakyoin just shrugs and pops the cap off his own, they each take a long swig and stare into the fire.

After a while its time to walk the perimeter path again, the red and black wolves moving quietly to the edge of the camp. Jotaro can’t help but sneak one more glance to where you and Polnareff are sleeping before giving the whole area one last critical look. He joins Kakyoin at the entrance but is stopped by Kakyoin’s outstretched arm before he can continue on the path. The red wolf has his nose tilted to the air so Jotaro follows suit. A slightly sour smell, like a mixture of garbage and deer musk assaults his nose before a breeze makes him loose the scent. Kakyoin must have lost it too based on the way he opens his eyes and searches the woods around. Nothing seems out of place, all the trees around silent and still. The animals have still not reappeared and the silence makes each footstep loud and clear as a bell. Another strong breeze makes the trees creak and groan, leaves shifting and rattling on the ground.

The soured smell is back again as they reach a landmark tree indicating they need to turn left soon, but as they pass it by, they are met with unfamiliar woods in front of them. The trees groan in the wind again, but Jotaro notices no leaves shift from their spots on the ground. They both freeze and turn in place, Kakyoin barely catches movement from his right where the landmark tree is, the roots undulating and creeping like snakes before quickly resettling.

“Jojo, the trees…”

“Yeah, I saw it. Not just the trees though, look at the branches on that bush.” The shrub in question was undoubtedly larger than it was a few seconds ago, its branches and twigs looked like they were caught in the wind but were using the movement to disguise how they grew and stretched themselves towards the wolves.

Jotaro’s fur stands straight up, there was no telling how far off the path they’ve been led. Were they even in range of the camp to hear if anything was also going wrong there? They’d have to rely on the scent trail to get back before… The sour smell from earlier is suddenly overpowering as a few trees about fifty feet away move on their own to make way for a giant creature lumbering towards them. Its beady eyes are focused on them and it grins, revealing jagged teeth as it lifts its arm. The plants around them writhe and tangle themselves at the leshin’s command.

Kakyoin growls loudly as he cuts away reaching branches with his claws. Jotaro focuses on the creature before them, looking for any obvious weaknesses. Its body is gigantic, probably twelve feet tall even though it was hunched over and dragged its knuckles like a great ape while it walked. Rough textured skin peeked out between ragged pelts and tufts of mossy hair on its body, probably the most vulnerable targets at a glance. On its head it wore a deer skull like a helmet, the antlers scraping branches above it with each bob of its head.

It’s distracted with pushing a tree out of its way to make room for its body and Jotaro uses the moment to rush forward, Kakyoin following right behind him. They quickly close the distance and lunge at the beast leaving deep gouges in the creature’s skin. No blood rises to the surface of the cuts though, in fact, the leshin makes almost no note of the injuries. They repeat their attack, but the rough patches only splinter like tree bark as they make contact. It retaliates and swings a fist at them but it’s too slow to connect.

They quickly fall back out of range to regroup. Jotaro growls lowly with his hackles raised, “Its skin is too thick to break through.” The leshin raises its arms again and they cut away the creeping branches.

“We can out run it though. Get back to camp and get everyone out of here.” Kakyoin pants as he slashes at vines threatening to anchor them to the ground. Jotaro nods and turns towards the woods, Kakyoin leading the way back to camp. The creature catches onto their plan though and with a chilling wail the trees in front of them weave into a solid wall before their eyes.

Roots spring up from underground and snare their legs too quickly to cut away. The creeping vines quickly climb up past their hips and tangle their claws when they come close enough. Their struggle is fruitless and the leshin lumbers closer to them making up for its speed handicap by totally immobilizing its prey. It reaches for Kakyoin and its massive hand is large enough to completely wrap around his torso as it plucks him from the ground.

Jotaro’s eyes widen and redoubles his efforts to get free as Kakyoin is lifted towards the creature’s mouth. He glances around desperately looking for something that can aid him before it’s too late. The trees and roots are still undulating wildly, rocks and dead branches pushed out of the way for the living plants. Living plants. Of course, it was only able to control living things! He’s finally able to free one of his arms and grabs a rock laying near his feet. It flies free of his grasp and shatters the nose of the dear skull on the leshin’s head sending shards of bone into the creature’s forehead and eyes.

The leshin howls in pain using its free hand to brush away the shards and lowers Kakyoin towards the ground. Kakyoin had been scratching and clawing at the gigantic hand still squeezing him but uses the opportunity to grab onto a large rock as he’s swung low to the ground. The creature recovers and swings Kakyoin back up towards its mouth. The rock Kakyoin is holding slams into its face as he swings his arms with all his strength and the creature wails in pain again.

Keeping hold of the large rock, Kakyoin quickly shoves it into the mouth of the screaming leshin, sinking his arms up to the elbow to lodge the rock in its throat. He’s barely able to withdraw before the leshin snaps its jaws shut. Its wails and cries now reduced to gurgling choking as its eyes begin to bulge and look franticly around the woods. Panic is starting to set in as it’s unable to draw in air, its grip on Kakyoin finally releasing and control over the plants waning. The drop to the floor is jarring and Kakyoin scrambles to regain his footing, one arm braced across his stomach where the leshin’s grip had tightened painfully.

Jotaro is finally free of the vines and roots that kept him bound in place and sprints over to where Kakyoin is hunched over, grabbing him under the arms and dragging him away from the creature as it fumbles and thrashes. Its gnarled hands grasp at its throat, clawing and scraping away at its own bark-like skin. It rises to its full height and stumbles backwards, beady eyes rolling in their sockets and tongue hanging from its gaping mouth. One of its arms flails wildly before making contact with its mouth, pushing fingers into its own throat to try and dislodge the rock but only pushing it deeper. The lack of air finally makes it loses consciousness and it falls back into the trees with a crash.

Kakyoin stands, panting as they watch the leshin twitch in its death throws, both he and Jotaro winded but thankfully just bruised from the encounter. The woods around them are again still and silent, trees and roots creaking and groaning in protest to their new locations but no longer moving on their own. They keep their eyes locked onto the creature as they catch their breath but as soon as they recover, they turn back to the path. The markings on the trees can’t be trusted to lead them so they rely on smell as they run through the woods back to camp.

They burst past the line of trees into camp and take stock of the scene. The fire is burning low, but everything else seems to be just as they left it. Jotaro motions to the truck and Kakyoin nods and makes his way over to wake Joseph and Avdol. From where he’s standing, he can see you and Polnareff are still sleeping, your face pushed into the white wolf’s back for warmth and Polnareff has wrapped himself around one of the makeshift pillows. Jotaro shakes you awake first; you grumble and reluctantly roll over to look at him. “We’re leaving early.”

A kick of adrenalin feels like ice shooting through your veins, fully alert and stiffly sitting up to look around the camp for danger. Nothing seems out of place so you turn your attention to Jotaro. He’s panting slightly but seems fine other than some random leaves and twigs stuck in his fur. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” you ask as you stand up from the leaf bed and keep a careful eye on the woods.

Polnareff is grumbling as he’s woken up too but Jotaro turns to you and answers, “We encountered a creature, I’m not even sure what it was.” Another spike of adrenalin rushes you, “We took it down but I don’t want to take any chances that it had friends out here. I’ll explain more in the car when we’re out of here.” You and Polnareff nod and help him to quickly pack up camp.

Joseph and Avdol make their way out of the truck just as you finish smothering the fire, Kakyoin behind them and once again in his human form. Jotaro drops his transformation as Joseph approaches him and claps his hand to Jotaro’s shoulder as he looks him over for new injuries. A few new scrapes have appeared on his skin but you were correct earlier when you didn’t see any serious ones. He huffs as he completes his visual check and pulls Jotaro into a tight hug. “We’re really having some shitty luck lately, aren’t we son?” he pulls away with a grin as Jotaro mumbles out his trademark ‘good grief’, but you see the small smirk on his face too. “Kakyoin told us the… thing… out there is dead?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather we get out of here as soon as possible. We don’t know if it was the only one here.” Avdol nods at the order and gets to work arranging the seats and loading gear into the truck. You and Polnareff are the last to drop your transformations and the chilly morning air causes you to shiver. It’s still a few hours till dawn, but soon you are all ready and seated in the warm truck, Joseph is acting as navigator as Avdol drives carefully out of the woods, the last leg of your journey to New York City now underway.

Author’s Note:

I just keep falling further and further behind, don’t I? I try to write for at least an hour a day on my lunch break, but between this chapter being SOOO long and my lunches being shorter lately... well better late than never!

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p-isforpoetry · 3 years

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"The Waste Land" - The Fire Sermon by T. S. Eliot (read by Sir Alec Guinness)

The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

A rat crept softly through the vegetation Dragging its slimy belly on the bank While I was fishing in the dull canal On a winter evening round behind the gashouse Musing upon the king my brother’s wreck And on the king my father’s death before him. White bodies naked on the low damp ground And bones cast in a little low dry garret, Rattled by the rat’s foot only, year to year. But at my back from time to time I hear The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring. O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter And on her daughter They wash their feet in soda water Et O ces voix d’enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

Twit twit twit Jug jug jug jug jug jug So rudely forc’d. Tereu

Unreal City Under the brown fog of a winter noon Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants C.i.f. London: documents at sight, Asked me in demotic French To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting, I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea, The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food in tins. Out of the window perilously spread Her drying combinations touched by the sun’s last rays, On the divan are piled (at night her bed) Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays. I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest— I too awaited the expected guest. He, the young man carbuncular, arrives, A small house agent’s clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sits As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire. The time is now propitious, as he guesses, The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caresses Which still are unreproved, if undesired. Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; Exploring hands encounter no defence; His vanity requires no response, And makes a welcome of indifference. (And I Tiresias have foresuffered all Enacted on this same divan or bed; I who have sat by Thebes below the wall And walked among the lowest of the dead.) Bestows one final patronising kiss, And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .

She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed lover; Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass: “Well now that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over.” When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.

“This music crept by me upon the waters” And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street. O City city, I can sometimes hear Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, The pleasant whining of a mandoline And a clatter and a chatter from within Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls Of Magnus Martyr hold Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.

The river sweats Oil and tar The barges drift With the turning tide Red sails Wide To leeward, swing on the heavy spar. The barges wash Drifting logs Down Greenwich reach Past the Isle of Dogs. Weialala leia Wallala leialala

Elizabeth and Leicester Beating oars The stern was formed A gilded shell Red and gold The brisk swell Rippled both shores Southwest wind Carried down stream The peal of bells White towers Weialala leia Wallala leialala

“Trams and dusty trees. Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.”

“My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart Under my feet. After the event He wept. He promised a ‘new start.’ I made no comment. What should I resent?”

“On Margate Sands. I can connect Nothing with nothing. The broken fingernails of dirty hands. My people humble people who expect Nothing.” la la

To Carthage then I came

Burning burning burning burning O Lord Thou pluckest me out O Lord Thou pluckest

burning

Sir Alec Guiness reading more poetry

#The Waste Land #The Fire Sermon #T. S. Eliot #Eliot #Sir Alec Guinness #Alec Guinness #poem #poetry #audio #p-isforpoetry

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avengerscompound · 4 years

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Bartoned - Chapter 34

Bartoned - A Hawkeye Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Rating: E

Warnings: None for this chapter

Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1741

Summary: Clint’s name has become synonymous with fucking things up. When you have a one night stand with him, your whole life gets Bartoned.

Chapter 34

Moving out to the compound in upstate New York made you hyper-aware how important the women in Clint’s life were.

While most of the staff had their little apartments in the main facility, Tony had created a little section of the compound which was basically a little village for the Avengers. It was quite cute really. Just a group of ten little houses set around a circular road. Each was unique and had its own yard. Tony’s was a log cabin with a large glass attachment to the side with his own private lab. He had a little rambling garden and it looked out over the water. Natasha’s was modern and two stories with lots of glass and sharp lines. Her garden had roses and a pool out the back with a hot tub. Steve and Bucky’s resembled a Brown Stone, Wanda and Kari’s house was a half-timbered house that looked quaintly out of place. Their garden was a rambling mix of wildflowers and vegetables.

The house you and Clint were moving into was two stories with a flat roof that Clint immediately said he was going to put deck chairs on it. It was white brick with lavender trim and had a little playground with a sandbox out the back.

Everyone moved out in a staggered wave. Tony had gone first to get his house exactly how he wanted it. Next went Natasha and Hill. Hill needed to go early to make sure that the new facility was running smoothly before the complete switch over. You and Clint were next along with Bruce and Sam.

Natasha, Bobbi, Katie, Wanda, and Kari were all at your house now helping you bring boxes in from the truck parked outside while Doreen kept an eye on Nattie. The house was positively filled with women and all of them loved Clint and Clint was completely happy with them all there.

He and Natasha were doing all the heavy lifting. Clint had taken his shirt off and you had the feeling it was because he was showing off. He was a good looking man, even with all his scars and band-aids that covered his fresh cuts. He knew almost everyone there liked looking at him. Unfortunately for Clint, Natasha stole the show in her tank top, carrying large boxes two at a time on her shoulders.

The rest of you unpacked. You didn’t want to be living in a house full of boxes. Not anymore and especially not now Nattie was cruising along using them to keep herself up.

She was doing that a lot during the move-in process. Boxes got put down, Nattie would pull herself up on the edge of a box, if she could look in it she would pull as much out as her little arms would let her, and then when a new box got put down she’d walk as far as she could using the first box to keep her up before falling on her butt and crawling over, or she’d grab the pants leg of someone walking past and use them to get where she was going.

“You’re being very helpful pulling all the pots out of the box for us, Nattie,” Kate said as she picked them up from the scattered pile Nattie had been making on the floor. She spoke in that patient baby talk tone people affected when they spoke to infants but there was a little snark to it too.

“She’s very helpful,” Wanda said, waving her hands so all the pots and pans flew up and stacked themselves neatly into the drawer.

Nattie squealed and clapped her hands, which made her lose her balance and fall down on her butt.

“She’s very close to walking by herself,” Bobbi said as she unpacked the dishes into one of the cupboards. “You’re going to have her running around causing chaos in no time.”

“Thus why we’re so adamant we get things unpacked right away,” you said. You were in the living room messing with the cables for the entertainment system and wishing that Tony was here to help you and not over helping Bruce unpack his place. “But she’s been doing the whole ‘cruising from one thing to the next’ for months now. I’m not sure there’s any way to tell from that if she’s going to walk.”

Bobbi turned and crouched down holding out her hands. “Come here, Nattie. Come visit auntie Bobbi.”

Nattie rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled over to Bobbi as fast as she could go. Bobbi picked her up and threw her up in the air. The little girl squealed with delight and wriggled around like she wanted to do it again.

Clint came in with another box, this one marked master bedroom and he paused in right on the spot that separated the kitchen with the living area. “Pepper just drove up to Bruce’s house,” he said. “Then she and Tony came outside and went to his house together.”

“Bozhe moi,” Natasha cursed. “I guess we better go check on him tonight.”

Clint nodded. “When she leaves I’ll go over and invite him over for the dinner we were going to have here.”

Natasha shook her head. “No, I’ll go to Bruce now. He’s only got Thor and Rhodey helping with the unpacking now.”

“Aww, man,” Clint whined. “Only? There’s nothing only about Thor.”

“Quit your complaining. You have Wanda and a small army,” Natasha said. “I’ll see you all tonight.”

Bobbi put Nattie down again and she crawled out of the kitchen into the living area where she pulled herself up on another box. This one was still taped shut so she just started hitting it with both her palms as she bounced on the spot. Clint came back downstairs and as he passed Nattie she held out her arms and started babbling. “Bababa blah dadada,” she said. When Clint didn’t stop she scooted around to the other side of the box and then took three wobbly steps after him on her own.”

“Oh my god,” you yelped.

“Way to go, Nattie!” Doreen cheered at the exact same time.

Clint turned and looked around confused. “What? What just happened.”

“Nattie just took a few steps after you, Mister Barton,” Doreen explained as you rushed over to her. Everyone else turned to see too and soon all packing had halted and a small circle had been formed around Nattie.

Clint offered his hands to Nattie and she grabbed them with her chubby little hands and pulled herself back up to standing. “There you go,” he said as he slowly pulled his hands back. She kept balancing on them as long as she could and when he pulled them away she picked up her pace running towards him and falling into his arms.

There was a cheer from everyone and Clint rolled back and held her above his head. “Look at you!” He said, excitedly. “Running around like a champion.”

She squealed and flailed her arms around before starting to babble again.

“See I told you she was going to walk any minute,” Bobbi teased.

“Yeah, yeah, Bobbi, you’re very smart,” Kate snarked.

“Man, Nat is going to be so annoyed she missed that,” Kari laughed.

“Especially considering she was being nice,” you added.

“Oh well,” Clint said, sitting back up and putting Nattie back down. She crawled into his lap and started climbing him.

“Honey, daddy is so proud of you but I have a bunch of stuff to bring inside,” Clint said, tickling her tummy.

She squealed and giggled, flopping back on his lap.

“I’ll take him, Mr. Barton,” Doreen said picking her up off his lap. She whined and threw her head back. “Come on, silly billy. Let’s go play in your new sandbox.”

With Clint and his group of friends, you were able to get the house almost completely unpacked by dinner time. Nattie was even able to sleep in her own bedroom in her own crib for her afternoon nap. Clint drove into town and got a huge stack of pizza and beer.

The other Avengers all showed up to share it and you all ended up eating over at Natasha’s place so they could use the pool. Nattie took to the water like a natural, splashing around while Clint (or one of the others) held her up and swished her through the water.

“Think we’re going to be really happy out here,” Natasha said, taking the deck chair next to you and stretching out like a cat.

“Mmm, Tony did good. I think you guys might have earned some happiness,” you agreed.

“You too, tiger,” Natasha said. “You’ve earned it too.”

You smiled at her and took a sip of your beer. “What happened with Pepper? Tony seems fine.” Tony was in the water with Clint, Wanda, and Bucky and they were each taking turns having Nattie swim to them. The little girl was loving the attention and hadn’t stopped smiling and giggling.

Natasha did that little half-smile of hers and shook her head. “Apparently this -” Natasha waved her hand around, gesturing around her. “Has made her think he’s turning over a new leaf. She wants to give it another go.”

“And?” You asked.

“And he’s pretty excited,” Natasha said. “I think he’s always thought she was the one. Just haven’t been able to get on the same page.”

“Aww,” you said. “I hope it works out for them.”

“Yeah, me too,” Natasha agreed. “I heard that Steve and Bucky have registered to foster kids.”

“Wow,” you said. “Everyone is getting super domestic.”

Natasha laughed. “You know, I think that’s partially on you. Or well, Clint and you. They saw you guys doing it and have started to think maybe they can too.”

You smiled softly and looked over the large group of friends relaxing and enjoying time together. Something that you’d never really seen them do outside of big events. It was good seeing them taking the time to enjoy the peace. “She wasn’t such a bad accident was she?”

Natasha laughed. “Nope. As far as accidents go, I’d say she was the best kind.”

“What about you, Nat?” You asked. “Think you might grab some of that happiness for yourself?”

She reached over and pushed you gently. “Don’t worry about me. I’m getting there. Besides, I am happy when they all are.”

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #bartoned

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twilights-800-cats · 3 years

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<< Allegiances || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 12

It was dusk by the time that Mothwing returned to the RiverClan camp, her paws muddy and aching and her heart feeling as if it had been wrapped in thorns. Her stomach roiled as she recalled the image of the rabbit’s torn-open stomach, and she knew the smell of vomit clung to her pelt.

No Clan should have to suffer like that, she thought. How long can WindClan last without rabbits, and with Twolegs driving away what prey remains?

She ignored the curious looks and mews of her Clanmates as she padded across the clearing towards Leopardstar’s den. She would tell Mudfur everything, but right now some part of Mothwing wanted to talk to her mother, to be comforted like a kit.

Leopardstar looked up from her nest as Mothwing padded inside of the hollow willow log. “What’s wrong?” she asked, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Mothwing took a deep breath before spilling all that had happened in the WindClan camp – the destruction of their territory, the death of Graytail, the poisoned rabbits… it all tumbled from her mouth like the waterfall in the gorge, and Mothwing felt like she was lashing herself upon the rocks as she spoke.

Leopardstar was silent for a long moment after Mothwing was done. Then, in a quiet tone, she meowed, “I am sure you did your best… I’m proud of you, Mothwing. That had to be difficult.”

“It was,” Mothwing rasped.

Leopardstar got to her paws and brushed her muzzle against Mothwing’s. Mothwing leaned in, taking comfort in her mother’s clean, fresh RiverClan-scent, untainted by hunger; but she felt the tension in the dappled she-cat’s muscles and knew that the sympathy wouldn’t last.

“Are you certain that all the rabbits in the forest are poisoned?” she asked.

Mothwing sighed. “I can’t say for sure,” she admitted, “but even just one or two…”

Leopardstar nodded in understanding. “Come,” she meowed. “We must tell the Clan.”

Mothwing swallowed and followed her mother out of the den. Already every warrior seemed to be gathered close, as if anticipating a meeting. How would they react to the news? WindClan wasn’t exactly an ally these days. Mothwing caught sight of Falcontail in the crowd, who leaned over and whispered something to Leafwhisker and Blackclaw, both of whom curled their tails in aggression.

What if they want to attack WindClan? Mothwing shivered, glancing at Leopardstar. The RiverClan leader was making her way up the Clan Root, sitting herself down at its peak to look over her Clan. There was no need for Leopardstar’s signature call – all were present to listen, eyes bright and curious.

“Mothwing has returned from WindClan,” Leopardstar announced, “and the news is not good.”

“What happened?” hissed Mudfur. Mothwing flinched at his tone as he slid into position beside her. “Why didn’t you come to me first?”

“I’m sorry,” Mothwing whispered back. Leopardstar was already launching into a brief explanation of what had happened in WindClan territory. “It all happened so fast…”

Mudfur sighed, giving Mothwing’s ear a lick. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “But come to me first, next time.”

“… and I have come to the inevitable conclusion,” Leopardstar meowed on. “RiverClan cats can no longer risk hunting rabbits.”

“What?!” gasped Heavystep. “All because some WindClan cats got sick?”

“It’s not a risk we can take!” Mothwing insisted, getting to her paws. “You didn’t see how sick it made them – Graytail died from whatever was in those rabbits, and Bristlepaw might still die!”

“Rabbits cross the border all the time,” Tawnypelt reasoned, facing the Clan with her chin high. “It’s not a risk I’m willing to take, either. RiverClan has never needed rabbits to survive anyway; it’s not a huge loss to our fresh-kill pile.”

Mudfur sighed. “StarClan, what is happening to the forest?!”

“Are you sure it was Twolegs that did it?” asked Brackenflight. Her striped tail lay still where it was, wrapped around her paws; but the senior warrior looked disturbed. “And their territory… could the Twolegs be trying to kill WindClan?”

“Why?” wondered Frostsplash. “I’ve never seen Twolegs do stuff like that; I’ve lived around them for long enough…”

Mackerelpaw looked confused, too. She hung her head helplessly. “I don’t get it…”

“First Fourtrees, now WindClan,” mused Mosspelt. “I think it’s clear that the Twolegs aren’t something we can ignore.” The tortoiseshell queen looked up at Leopardstar, her eyes hard. “They’re clearly a danger.”

“And WindClan needs help!” Mothwing chimed in, looking up at her mother too. “There has to be something we can do! They’ll starve to death without rabbits! There’s hardly any other prey on their land!”

Leopardstar’s ears flattened, her eyes troubled. Mothwing gave her most pleading look, beseeching her mother to do something. It can’t be StarClan’s will that WindClan starves! Please, Mother!

“Twolegs are one thing, but why should we aid WindClan?” snapped Leafwhisker.

Blackclaw grunted in agreement. “They’ve done nothing but steal from us – first our water, then our prey. What’s next?”

Mudfur curled his lip. “We gave them water to combat the dry spell,” he reminded. “And we have a duty to aid the other Clans in times like these.”

“You do.” Falcontail’s voice was sharp and cold. Mothwing stared hopelessly at her brother – she wasn’t at all surprised he was speaking up about this. “Medicine cats have their own code. The rest of us follow the warrior code, in case you’ve forgotten – and the warrior code strictly states that Clans do not share prey.”

Leafwhisker was bristling. “You think we’ll be able to survive leaf-bare if we let WindClan hunt on our territory?” the tabby warrior hissed. “And what if those Twolegs destroy their land? Where will they go?”

“Not here!” Blackclaw sniffed. “I won’t stand for that!”

The Clan clamored. Mothwing looked up at Leopardstar, hoping and praying that her mother might say something to soothe the tensions – but found that Leopardstar was staring at Falcontail, looking just as hopeless as Mothwing felt. Was she shocked at her own son’s words, too?

“RiverClan has starved in the past!” Shadepelt yowled over the din, her voice hoarse with age. “The other Clans helped us then. I think it’s time we paid that debt forward.”

“I agree,” Tawnypelt meowed, raising her voice firmly. “A lot of us wouldn’t be here today if ThunderClan hadn’t helped us when the river flooded seasons ago.”

Falcontail bristled. “WindClan has always had problems like these, and they’ve pulled through on their own.”

“You wouldn’t be here without WindClan’s help!” Mudfur snapped, bristling. “If they hadn’t come with medicine when you were a kit you and Mothwing would’ve died of greencough, and who knows how many more would have joined you! How can you throw that debt away?”

Falcontail’s ears pinned in response, his eyes blazing with hostility. Mothwing stared at her brother – why did he have to look like he was ready to attack Mudfur?! She edged herself forward, shielding her mentor with her younger, stronger body.

“Tallstar should ask ThunderClan,” Blackclaw stated firmly. “They’re the ones that like sticking their whiskers into every Clan’s business!”

“Definitely,” Leafwhisker agreed, nodding. “Tallstar and Tinystar have always been friends. Neither have respected the warrior code much!”

Mothwing trembled, watching as her Clan parted like a river with a stone thrown into it. Both sides looked ready to raise their claws to defend their opinions, and Mothwing’s stomach churned even harder.

What do I do? She thought, looking up at the sky. The stars that sparkled there were silent. StarClan, tell us what to do!

It wasn’t StarClan, but Leopardstar, who called an end to the debate. Her sharp, wordless yowl cut through the fighting like the roar of a beast, causing the entire Clan to fall into a shocked silence and turn their eyes to where she stood upon the Clan Root.

“That is enough,” Leopardstar stated firmly, her eyes passing over the Clan. Many looked embarrassed to be caught in her gaze. “At this time, RiverClan cannot aid WindClan – that is the end of it.”

Mothwing stared up at her mother, shocked. How could she say that? “Leopardstar, why?” she pleaded. “They need our help, and with the Twolegs-”

Leopardstar silenced her with a hard glare and a sweep of her tail. “The Twolegs are temporary – they will do their business and then be gone, and all will go back to normal. RiverClan cannot afford to share hunting rights with WindClan with leaf-bare right around the corner, especially when we cannot trust that they will give those rights back.”

“But-”

“I have made my decision,” Leopardstar declared. “And I will not change my mind. Tawnypelt, ensure that no rabbits are on the fresh-kill pile, and make sure everyone in the Clan knows not to touch any we find. Send a message out to ThunderClan about the rabbits – hopefully they can spread word to ShadowClan before any of their own cats fall ill.”

Tawnypelt blinked. “Of course,” she meowed. Mothwing stared at the Clan deputy. She didn’t look happy with Leopardstar’s decision either, so why wasn’t she saying anything? Tawnypelt, speak up, please! You can make Leopardstar see reason, if no other cat can!

“As for the rest of you…” Leopardstar’s piercing gaze scanned the clearing once more. “You are dismissed.”

The Clan dispersed into groups of muttering cats, eyes flashing everywhere. Mothwing felt their gazes on her, and when she saw how many looked doubtful, hostile, even, she felt like retching.

Mothwing sank her claws into the earth, looking up at the stars. Why didn’t StarClan send a sign? Why were they so quiet? What did they have to gain by letting WindClan starve without aid?

Please, tell me! She begged. How can you watch as we fall apart?

#tb au #tb moonrise

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