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j-pankratz · 3 years

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The Slumber that Creeps to Me

Geraskefer. 7208 Words. Rated T. Jaskier pulls an extreme all-nighter (read: 60+ hours) to finish a paper he procrastinated on, and finds at the end of it that sleep does not come as easily as he’d hoped. Tags for: Sleep Deprivation, Self Destruction/Lack of Self Care, Hallucinations, Nightmares, Overstimulation, Hurt/Comfort, Whumping the Bard, very loving partners, and a happy ending. <3 AO3 link in the reblog!

As with most disasters spurned by his own cockiness, Jaskier felt as thought that all in all, the situation could have been worse.

The idea to have Geralt and Yennefer spend the spring holiday break at Oxenfurt was, in his defense, ingenious. His students weren’t around, the weather was gorgeous, they all had varying degrees of business in the city, and they could fuck each other senseless at any hour of the day. In a bed. A nice one, provided he was a legitimate professor, now. Well, visiting. Well, it was complicated. But they were his rooms, and that’s what mattered.

When Jaskier gotten the prestigious offer to write the season’s main article for the Continent’s most respected Bardic Journal, he’d just sort of figured he’d… fit it in, somewhere. He had seventeen months, which was plenty enough for him. Then he’d just work with the editors, and have a centerfold piece. It was an honor. He was excited about it! He’d meant to get to it sooner, but decided the summer before that he’d devote the winter to it. But… he’d… he’d been distracted. It wasn’t often the entire family gathered at Kaer Morhen. So, he thought, he’d do it later.

But the first few weeks after winter were, of course, spent with Geralt. And the week after that, a trip to the coast, where he’d played a festival and met up with Ciri, who was becoming an amateur critic herself. And then by pure, absolute happenstance, after 3 more weeks of travel he happened to end up at an inn that he definitely hadn’t heard Yennefer was staying at. So that more time gone. And then he’d arrived in Oxenfurt, and he’d really meant to get to work on it, but there was so much to prepare for! He wanted things to be right for them.

And then Yennefer and Geralt had actually arrived, and the idea of anything possibly being more important than their presence flew his mind.

And now, here he was. If he wanted to get it in on time (unfortunately, that wasn’t a suggestion in this case, more of an actual, terrifying requirement,) he’d need to submit it in… gods above, less than three days. 60 hours, if he was doing the math.

There was no word limit, nor a minimum. But, ever the maximalist, he knew it was going to be… long, if he was going to do it right. They’d edit it down, but it was the focal point of the journal, they’d been leading up to it for ages now. Ahh. Well. There was only one thing for it, he supposed.

“I’m working through the night on my paper!” He’d announced that morning, sitting straight up in bed, jostling his sleepy lovers. “No one bother me! I will be at the dining table until further notice!” He swung himself out of bed and made for the door.

“Pants,” his lovers chorused together.

“Right!” he'd said, and marched back into the room.

He’d pulled all-nighters in his youth. In fact, he couldn’t count the times he’d worked through the night, deposited a composition or essay on his professor’s desk with some polite conversation and maybe a wink, and then promptly fallen asleep during the lecture itself. Just a 15-minute power nap, really! Then he’d be back up and at it again, working through another night just to sleep through the weekend. He’d done it before, he could do it again.

Well, it’d been 25 years ago, but that didn’t change much, did it? He still felt spry, agile, hearty— hell, he’d spent the better part of the last twenty odd years chasing after a Witcher, and later an additional princess and mage— surely he should be in better health now!

This was completely accomplishable. Admittedly, he could have written this sooner… but he hadn’t, and here he was.

Geralt and Yennefer both set out early on different errands, leaving the bard to some peace and quiet. Relatively.

He spread his work and references out before him. 7 books, 4 pamphlets, his favorite quills, a hundred fresh pieces of parchments, his lute at his knee. “Alright,” he said aloud to his empty Oxenfurt apartment, “Just sit down and write the damn thing. Sitting part, definitely done. Writing next. Just… write.”

He stared at the page.

“No! No, no, do not be impossible about this. Just start the thing.”

The page stared back.

“Ah, blast,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. This was fine. Just… do the awful, disgusting part of beginning, and then he’d be off. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d finish, after all! He took a breath, and put his pen to paper.

Yennefer returned a few hours later, a book and small parcel in hand. Jaskier looked up to see her sweep through the room, a commanding presence, though she didn’t acknowledge him yet. A few waves of her hands and a pot of tea was put on to boil, her hair was put in a bun, and three mugs were floating down from a shelf.

“Lovely to see you too,” he smiled as Yennefer poked through the tea collection. He could practically hear her fond eye roll. She neatly plucked two from one box and looked back at him in question. “Ah… peppermint, if we’ve got it?” and she turned back to the cupboard grab it.

“Any progress?” She finally asked.

“A bit, actually!” Jaskier said cheerfully. It didn’t look like much, but he’d done half a page with almost no errors, and he’d made plenty of notes in the margins of the books he’d need later. It was better than he’d hoped it’d be going by this point, at least. He was kicking academia’s ass. Or, he would be.

The kettle whistled and Yennefer poured the tea, bobbing all three of the tea bags up and down as they steeped. He watched her lean against the counter, casual, relaxed, gorgeous, before realizing she was staring back at him. “Um! Yes, no, definitely good. Got a lot of… those words, you know, they are definitely here. Looking very sexy. The words! The writing is looking… very sexy, very curvy… letters. Sensuous words, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sensuous words.”

“Yeah, yes. Like… contemporaneous… and… iguana.”

“Iguana.” She let out a little huff of a laugh and something in Jaskier’s chest tightened and loosened in quick succession. And in a moment she was there, sliding him a large mug with the carving of a rather playful looking bear on one side, batting at a butterfly.

“Oh! My favorite. Thank you, thank you.”

“Mmm,” she said before waving a hand to cool down their tea a bit. She took a seat opposite him, scanning an eye over the table. “Think you’ll be done by tonight?”

Jaskier laughed. “Darling, I’ll be lucky to be done by tomorrow morning.”

“You’re planning to stay up all night, bard?”

“Unfortunately.” He took a sip. “Should be done by tomorrow afternoon, if I keep steady at it.”

“After tea, of course.”

“Of course.”

Yennefer stretched out a bit, kicking her feet onto Jaskier’s lap and rolling her neck. They sat there a moment, sipping, pausing, drinking in each other. There was something nice about taking a moment of stillness with someone just as frenetic as he was, someone who was usually just as itching for something to do, even if she went about it differently. The grace of choosing stillness, he thought, was not something to ignore.

Yennefer reached the end of her mug and tapped its ceramic walls lightly.

“What’s next for you?”

“I have to refresh my potion stock, so I’ll be at the market for supplies. You sure you don’t want to take a break and join?”

Rat’s ass. He fucking loved the Oxenfurt markets. “I’m afraid I can’t. Academia calls.”

“Who does it call for, exactly? What’s that I hear…” She cocked her head and listened intently. “Who is it calling for… is that… V… Val… Valdo?” Jaskier hefted her feet off of his lap in protest, and she laughed. He plucked his quill from its stopper, and went back to hovering over his paper. Introduction mostly accomplished, now he had to really lead in to his point, give some proper context. He flipped through a book beside him.

Yennefer rose smoothly from the table and went to move her mug to the sink. “When Geralt gets in, tell him I need toadflax and bluebells from him? Might as well put him to use.”

Jaskier flipped through the pages, thumbing through for a note he’d sworn he’d made ages ago, when he belatedly tried to register his mage’s words. He could have his fun, too.

“Blue…Yennefer, you want me to tell Geralt that you need blue balls from him?”

“Bells! Bells, you absolute child!” she said. “Honestly. Blue balls? Really, Jaskier?” He was giggling. “I don’t need to ask to give either of you blue balls.”

“Exactly, Yennefer, you provide that service for us anyway, free of charge!” A balled-up napkin hit him in the head and he laughed joyfully.

“I can’t stand you. I’m leaving, you’ll never see me again.”

Jaskier looked up through his grin and met her twinkling, happy eyes. “Tonight then?”

“Tonight,” she agreed, and left with a quick ruffle of his hair.

“Still working?” Geralt said as greeting later in the afternoon. The desk was neater than Jaskier expected it to be this far in, only a few books open, dog eared and marked in colored ink. He’d written a page and a half since Yennefer left, and it was good, it was, but he’d need to go back and make edits later. His long empty mug of tea sat far across him.

“Mm,” he agreed, continuing to write. “Ah, Yennefer came through earlier,” giving a gesture to the waiting mug of tea on the counter. Geralt made his way over to the mug, and gave it a small igni to warm it. He smiled fondly down at the drink—what a terribly lovely sight he was. Warm here, and safe. Couldn’t it be like this always? The three of them here, comfortable and happy? No, he supposed, but gods how he wanted it.

“She’s at the market now,” Jaskier continued, “wanted me to ask you about...” He lifted his pen and squinted. “Ah, toadflax and bluebells.” He looked up at Geralt, smiling. “Blue balls,” they said together, sporting matching shit-eating grins, Geralt’s albeit much smaller. “I made the same joke myself,” Jaskier added.

Geralt snorted. “How’d she take that?”

“Oh, as well as you’d hope. We’ll never see her again, of course.” He turned back to his work, reading over the last paragraph. He could feel Geralt approach to stand behind him, and while he’d normally shoo his witcher off, he was too deep in concentration to bother.

How long was too long to linger on the progression of oral storytelling to bardship? It’s not like he could ignore it, (Geralt’s hand came to grip his shoulder, a thumb rubbing against it tenderly) as it was a crucial tenant of the argument— but there was plenty to be said for assuming the literacy and foreknowledge of the reader. (He leaned in to get a closer look at Jaskier’s page, the soft warmth of the tea in his other hand bouncing off his chest) But this was to be in a journal often referenced by first years, and he knew how much he would have loved a paper that had everything all in one—

“How’s it going?” Geralt asked softly in his ear.

Jaskier waved a hand over the mess before him. “You know. It’s fine, I’m just not sure at what point I’m lingering on points to excess.”

“Mm,” Geralt hummed understandingly. “Tell the story. Trust your gut.” He gave Jaskier a nuzzle and light kiss against his cheek before taking up the empty mug off the table and walking off further into the apartment.

“I always do!” Jaskier called back. Mm, if only this were as simple as telling a story. Well…Oh—if he spent this paragraph referencing the progression it would end up taking up more room, be a run of the mill lead-in, but if he wrote the actual history as a short story itself, now there was an idea, he could make his point and give the context. Oh, fuck, brilliant—

“Back soon,” Geralt was saying as the front door slipped shut, but the bard was too lost in his work to do more than give a small nod of his head.

The sun was falling, making a graceful bow into the horizon. Warm light spread out over the streets of Oxenfurt like the last pushes of tide, ebbing, and flowing, and sinking back into night.

“Ah, fuck,” Jaskier muttered, crossing out a spelling error with a snarl.

His shoulders ached, and his lower back was going to be the death of him. He was on page 7. All he could see was the work ahead of him, winding off ad infinitum. If he didn’t pick up the pace, he might have to go 60 hours straight—he shivered. Not ideal. He took a breath, stood up and stretched a bit, his muscles groaning in thanks. A quick bathroom break later and he was sliding back into his chair, still warm, his papers grinning up at him, sardonic.

He’d take a meal break at 10 pages, he told himself.

He stood to stretch and his head swam. Well. Plenty of reason to stay seated, he supposed.

Geralt and Yennefer returned at 12 and a half pages. He turned his head in greeting, and when he looked back he got the first real look at the table in hours—it was a disaster, crumbled pieces of parchment, empty quills, and little notes strewn everywhere. Some books propped open, the pile of parchment looking more like a mountain slope, an empty glass from when he’d chugged water hours ago.

His loves were clearly a few drinks deep as they came through the door, and completely unmarred by the woes of academia. Bastards, honestly.

“Hi, hello, hope you had a good evening, I—”

“Come to bed,” Yennefer said, suddenly right behind him. Two small but firm hands came to his shoulders, rubbing deeply.

“Ah! Oh, fuck—oh, yes, darling, right there—”

Geralt came to his other side, tipping his head up for a kiss, which he moaned into. His witcher’s tongue was soft, pleading, tempting him—his mage’s hands pushing almost painfully against his aching muscles. He wanted to cry, it was so good. It was so different than the last… however many hours it had been that he had been sitting here. Geralt pulled away, and Yennefer’s hands came to rest as well.

“So?” Geralt asked, his voice deep and velvety. “Bed?”

“I…” gods, who had he become? “I can’t. I want to, I just—”

Yennefer placed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s fine,” she said, and he knew it was, but he hated denying them something they all wanted. “Have you eaten?”

Jaskier frowned. “Fuck. Not really.”

Geralt sighed and went to the pantry. “You’re getting a sandwich,” he grumbled.

“Ooo, Geralt, dear heart, would you heat it up? Use some of your,” he wiggled his fingers “your witchery magic?”

Geralt turned and glared. “You’re getting a sandwich.”

“He’s so mean to me,” Jaskier muttered to Yennefer, “I can’t believe he’s so mean to me.”

His mage snorted a laugh into his hair. “You’re really staying up all night, then?” She waved a hand and the curtains around the room swept shut, and his lantern began to burn steadily.

“Looks like it,” he sighed. Geralt retuned a moment later, plated warm sandwich and glass of water in hand.

“Fuck. Thank you.” He took it and took a bite, suddenly ravenous. He looked up at both of them, staring down in fond amusement. “Fank—” he swallowed his mouthful of sandwich. “Thank you both, truly. I’ll be up a bit. If you need something, call, yes?”

They rolled their eyes. “He tells us to call if we need anything,” Yennefer muttered. “Don’t get into any trouble,” she said, and with a peck on the cheek from both of them, they disappeared into the bedroom.

He looked back at his work.

Okay. 12 ½ pages in. He could do this.

At 15 pages, he felt ravenous again, and made a second sandwich. Not as good as Geralt’s. Geralt’s sandwiches weren’t even that good, but they were made by Geralt, which added a certain kick, a novelty he adored.

He drank another glass of water and shook his head. Back to work.

At 17 pages, sometimes the world swam before him. He gripped the edge of the table. Fuck.

He was so tired. 23 pages. He kept writing.

It was terrible. The whole paper was a mess. Nothing made sense and people were going to laugh at him. 25 pages.

He heard a sound. Was that Geralt rising for the bathroom? Was it an intruder? Light crept in through the window. 27 pages.

There was a ringing in his ear. His writing was getting increasingly larger. 27 ½ pages.

Geralt gave him a soft nuzzle to the top of his head before padding through to the kitchen. Jaskier’s heart ached. His bones ached. Writing was hard but right then it felt impossible. 27 ¾ pages.

Geralt lingered, and Jaskier felt his nose twitch. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for him to leave. He couldn’t have any distractions right now. He shut his eyes tight until he heard the bedroom door close once more.

Yennefer entered hours later, sweeping the curtains over with a flick of her hand. Bright light flooded the room, painting the desk in all its full, disgustingly messy glory. “Well—”

“Could you ask next time?!” Jaskier snapped. “Some of us need consistency to concentrate!”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow, and they stared at each other. Some part of him wanted to slap himself but the rest was just so irritated. Who’d she think she was, anyway?

After a moment, the mage turned and left with a flick of her hand to sweep the curtains shut again.

“Headed out,” Geralt said at 30 pages. “Contract.”

“Good,” Jaskier muttered. “I mean. Good that you’re—fuck. Whatever.”

Geralt stared. “You need rest. It’s been more than 24 hours.”

“I need to fucking finish.”

“Yen said—”

“I’m sure she did,” Jaskier muttered, driving his heels into his eyes. Gods, his eyes burned. Silence hung.

“She portaled out this morning.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Great. Love that. I’m a fucking disaster, thank you for the reminder, Geralt.” He waved toward the door. “Don’t you have a contract?”

He turned back to his papers, shifting around to look for page 11, and didn’t think about how long it took before Geralt left the apartment.

His hand was shaking but he was at 34 pages. He still had so much to say. Fuck. But he was in it now.

He scarfed down some soup that was mostly broth at some point, and he’d under-salted it, but it was something. His eyes kept going blurry; traitorous things.

The bear on his mug was plotting his downfall.

38 pages and Jaskier felt like the gods themselves had gifted him with the knowledge he now bestowed onto meager commoners. He was a genius.

At 43 pages, he had stopped to lay out the entire essay on the ground, so he could see it all. The words sometimes swam before him, and he had trouble remembering what he was meant to say next. Once, he looked up, confused as to where he was. And then, at 44 pages, the guilt of snapping at his dearest loves, the weight of this behemoth paper he wasn’t even sure he could finish, and his own self-doubt crept in and seized him up, leaving him breathless and in tears for… awhile. Everything hurt. He had to keep going.

At 48 pages, he saw a griffon fly through his window, and he named it Kalvin. He turned whatever color Jaskier wanted him to turn, which was very considerate of him. Kalvin was his only friend now, and with a little convincing, might become his editor, too.

At 55 pages his chest seized, and it was hard to breathe for a moment. He closed his eyes but—no, no, couldn’t do that. If he fell asleep now, he’d never finish in time. He tried to relax, got some water, leaned against the counter. Everything was a mess.

He sat back on the floor, his work around him. Keep going.

“I don’t think there’s anything about anything that I have to be doing right now. Kalvin, you’ve… you’ve got to understand, this could be my finest work! It’s good. It’s pretty good here in… in this part, here. In that other part it’s just okay, but that’s why you come in with your big claws and you’re gonna. Rip up the bad parts. Don’t rip up the good parts. Right? Yeah. Do you think they’ve forgotten about me by now?”

He looked down. 57 pages. Took a long blink.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “That’s fair.

He had to write two extra pages so that he could skirt around referencing Valdo Marx’s work as anything other than a contradictory point. Maybe it would have been fun to use his own writing against him but he didn’t want to give the satisfaction of being referenced positively in a centerfold piece.

He lost the essay.

“Fuck—oh, gods, where did—”

He turned around, looked down. Oh, there it was.

“Thank fuck.”

The curtains were still closed and the charmed lantern was still burning, but Jaskier knew it was night by the time he reached 63 pages and Geralt came in.

Jaskier looked up from his spot kneeling on the floor. Geralt looked fine. He was a little dirty. There were some gushy bits. Probably blood. He was tired. Or just mad. Maybe he hated Jaskier.

“You’re still—?!” Geralt asked, looking at Jaskier like he’d just said a griffon named Kalvin had flown in the window earlier and now they were friends.

“I met a griffon,” Jaskier heard himself say. Geralt stared. “We’re friends now.”

“…You need to fucking sleep.”

“No.” Jaskier went back to the margin he’d devoted to drawing circles in. “Sorry ‘bout earlier.”

Geralt sighed. He might have talked but Jaskier didn’t hear, just kept writing.

“How often has that been happening?” he heard Geralt ask.

“What happening?”

“Where you fall asleep for a moment.”

“I haven’t! Fallen asleep.”

“Fuck,” Geralt said. He looked very nice, except for the goop all over him. Well. Even that wasn’t so bad, when the underneath bits were Geralt. His Geralt. Looked so warm, so strong, so able to carry him.

“Later,” Jaskier replied, and went back to his words. The familiar pop of a portal sounded in the bedroom. Their eyes lingered on the direction it came from, but Yennefer didn’t open the door. They looked at each other, and then back at the door which remained very much shut. “She’s mad.”

“Yep.”

“At me.”

“Yep.”

There was a pause. “Are you covered in blood?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh.”

“Not mine.”

“That,” he said pointing to the Witcher, “is good.”

“Mmm.”

“Sticky though.”

“Definitely sticky.”

Yennefer came out of the doorway, and Jaskier blinked. When he opened his eyes again she was much closer than she’d been and was in the middle of talking. Magic, he assumed.

“—yourself very lucky, bard.”

“Yeahh,” he said. “Sorry. ‘Bout… Sorry.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. There was a look in her face. Eyes? And her mouth. It was hard to name. Words were hard, when they weren’t the words he desperately needed to write.

“—for a while,” Geralt was saying. “Jaskier. How close are you to finishing.”

“Soon!” Jaskier said. “Soon! Soon. Due… 1pm tomorrow. What time is it?”

“10pm.”

“Fuck. Psshhh. I can… I can do it.” He looked up at Yennefer. “Sorry. Really. I… I’m just tired,” he admitted. “Shouldn’t have snapped. Not fair to you.”

Yennefer stood there, arms folded, emanating some emotion Jaskier had lost the concept of around page 41. Geralt walked further into the apartment, into the bedroom. Oh right. Blood armor. Ick.

He went back to writing and tried to ignore the desire to cry again, and then suddenly Yennefer’s shoes were in his line of vision.

“Let me read it,” she said.

“Oh.”

They stared at one another. She had such a pretty face. He might have been smiling. She rolled her eyes and then came to sit next to him. She quickly found the first page and began.

Halfway through it, he spilled ink on the bottom half of page 64, and wept. Yennefer gave him an attempt at a comforting pat on the back.

Yennefer had read the pages and risen; “It’s good. You need edits, but it’s somehow decent. Good. Whatever. A little… loose, toward the end, though,” made herself a cup of tea, and entered the bedroom.

Either a few moments, or 20 minutes later, Geralt emerged.

“What are you at now?”

“69 pages.”

“Nice,” Geralt said.

“Ha. Yeahhh,” Jaskier agreed.

“That’s not what I—” Geralt sighed the sigh that meant his face was going all pinch-y. “Close to the end?”

“Mmm. What is the end, really?” Geralt made a different pinch-y face. “Soon.”

“Come to bed tonight, Jaskier.”

“I’ll try,” he said. He blinked, and Geralt was gone.

There are a lot of words in an essay that are very hard to spell.

Jaskier ate the rest of a loaf of bread.

For a while, he swore he walked the streets of Oxenfurt while still warm in his professorial housing.

Kalvin’s accent changed three times and at one point he was on fire.

85 pages.

Geralt woke first, as always; There he was! That was his love. So much of his heart.

With shaking hands, Jaskier had brought himself up to sit in his chair, and sat staring down at his work. He looked up at Geralt with a lopsided grin. “I did it,” he said weakly.

“Need help putting it together?”

The tears fell so quickly he didn’t realize it was happening. “Really?”

Geralt sighed softly and knelt down, organizing the papers.

Yennefer emerged a bit later—There she was! His love, a chunk of him was hers entirely. He smiled. “Look!”

“Mmm. And now you can sleep.”

“NO!” Jaskier cried and leapt to his feet, “No, no, now… now is presenting time. To… the editors. Not Kalvin. But I turn it in… and then sleep,”

He had a sudden burst of energy, and tried to step over Geralt and the papers, but fell into the table instead, before the Witcher steadied him from below.

“Ohhhh, thank you dear. It’s time for… presentation! Mm.” He leaned into Yennefer’s warmth at his side, though she did not wrap her arms around him as he’d hoped. “Help me pick out an outfit.”

He blinked. Yennefer was in front of him now, looking at him with a frown, her hands around his waist. Geralt’s hand was against his forehead. “No! Stop that! I’m fine. I’m fine! See me! Fine. It’s action time. Let’s go!” and he marched off to the bedroom.

The floor was suddenly very close to his face.

“Did I—”

“You fell on your face.”

“Have I—”

“You’ve asked three times now, yes.”

There should have been fanfare when he turned it in, but there was only the grateful smile of Edmond, the young new assistant, a firm handshake, and a promise he’d hear back from them very soon, for a quick summarization of their initial thoughts. Or, he’d used all those words, Jaskier forgot which order they’d come in.

The three returned to the apartment, and everything happened very slowly and so quickly he found it hard to keep track. There was definitely a bath drawn for him—gods, it had been days, hadn’t it— oh, fuck, he was gross, wasn’t he—a full meal, and a celebratory drink. He’d made a few good jokes, and all he could see were Geralt and Yennefer, smiling at him. An empty glass. A bar of soap. A long quill. A messy table. A pile of books and an empty mug. They deposited him on the bed for sleep, and left together.

Jaskier lay there, waiting for sleep to take him.

It did not.

He was so tired he could cry. He did, a few times. He couldn’t think straight. All of it, everything, hurt. His body ached. He tried to soothe himself down alone, rocking himself in the hopes it would work. But nothing.

What if he could never sleep again? What if he would always be awake, forever? What if this was how he died?! Oh gods, he didn’t want to die! He still had edits to approve!

Eventually, he could feel himself getting closer. He adjusted himself, lay on his back and took deep, measured breaths, kept his eyes closed but relaxed. Okay. Okay. Sleep.

He was falling, so violently and so fast that when he jolted awake, he forgot he’d been lying on a bed in the first place.

Fuck.

He tried again. It happened sometimes, it was fine. He’d be fine.

He tried breathing deeply once more, trying to let the distant scents of Yennefer and Geralt now embedded in his pillows overtake him.

A fear so powerful it gripped his heart and twisted, whispered to him, ‘this is what dying is, you’re going to die’ and he once again jolted awake. He threw his head back against the pillow and winced; even that hurt.

Fuck. Fuck.

He kept trying. Over, and over, he’d get so close to sleep and then right at the precipice, something would yank him out of it.

Once, he saw Yennefer falling off a cliff. Another time, he saw Geralt stabbed through the chest. At some point, he saw Ciri screaming, and his hands flew out to pull her close, only to find nothing there. Sometimes it was himself falling, and sometimes it was the world below him falling instead.

He’d really done it this time. Stayed awake so long, sleep had abandoned him entirely.

It felt like twelve years before Yennefer and Geralt returned, slipping into the room quietly. He sat up in bed, startling them both.

“Please,” he said quietly, “I can’t. I don’t know why I can’t I just—I can’t. My body won’t let me, I want to but I can’t—”

“How the hell—” Yennefer started, walking over to him with a palm out to check for a curse, maybe? It didn’t matter. He wrapped her hand in his and clutched it to himself, desperate for her. She was so warm. So alive.

“Fuck,” Geralt sighed, “It’s been nearly 70 hours already, Jaskier.”

“Let me just put him down with magic,” Yennefer started, but Geralt put a hand up.

“We can’t. It’s a temporary fix. if he can’t fall asleep on his own without magic, it’ll get harder and harder for him. We need to get him to fall asleep without it.” They looked down at him. What a disgrace he must look like, how pathetic he was. He turned his face away in abject shame. He couldn’t even fall asleep right.

While he looked away, Yennefer tore her hand from his as she and Geralt discarded their clothes into heaps beside the bed, crawled beneath the covers on either side of Jaskier. They hated him. They must. How could they not?

“It’s fine, you don’t—fuck, sorry—”

Geralt shrugged. “Don’t be. I know how bad it gets. It’s different for a Witcher, but no sleep is the whole reason we met Yennefer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaskier said softly.

“As I recall, the solution then was to have vigorous sex on the floor.” Yennefer ran a finger along Jaskier’s chest. “Sound appealing?”

“I—yes, Yennefer, it sounds appealing.” He fidgeted, tried to focus on the feeling of Yennefer’s delicate touch. He was oversensitive enough that it felt like fire, but nothing… stirred, and each word he spoke felt like he was pulling honey from his tongue. “I don’t… much as I’d like, I’m not sure I’d be... up for it right now.” Yennefer’s head fell against the pillow and she flattened her hand, ran the palm up his chest to rest above his heart. Pressed a kiss there.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply, but they were looking at him, he could feel every inch of their gazes and it was all too much. He whined in agony. “I can’t do this. Fuck. I can’t, just put me out. We try it again tomorrow, I—”

“Jaskier. You can. Tell us what you need and we can help you,” Yennefer said, sweet but firm. And that was her, wasn’t it?

He couldn’t think. Wanted to. Wanted so much. Wanted to be asleep.

Jaskier curled up on his side, exhausted of being exhausted, when he felt Geralt slide up closer behind him. “Can I hold you?” he murmured into the bard’s shoulder. Jaskier nodded, and felt Geralt’s arm come around him and under his own arm, felt it slide up his chest and cross it protectively.

“Feel good?” Jaskier nodded, and then cracked his eyes open, met Yennefer’s, concern palpable.

He lifted one arm just slightly. “C’mere?” And she did, curled into his arms and around him, tucked her head under his, kissed the top of Geralt’s fingers. He held her close, and was held by the two in turn. Breathing, somehow, felt easier between them.

“Breathe, bard,” Yennefer urged him softly. Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair, took in a deep breath, and Jaskier tried to follow.

They breathed softly, all together, slow and safe. Soon, he was drifting into sweet oblivion.

‘You,’ Fear said, wrapped around his sternum, ‘will crumble, the moment you let go of wakefulness.’ It gripped him, and tugged him back to reality.

He jolted again. “Fuck, dammit, cock wringing—”

Yennefer pulled back to look at him worriedly. “Is that what’s been keeping you up?” she asked.

“It’s, I don’t know, something just pulls me back, I try to fight it but…”

“Mmm,” Geralt agreed. “Sleep starts. Happens sometimes.”

“The hell are sleep starts?”

“They’re… when you’re too on edge to sleep, or just haven’t in too long, brains… fizzle. Keep you awake. It’s a survival instinct—it makes you think you’ve got to stay awake to stay alive. Feels like falling? Or… a shock. Sometimes other things. Hallucinations.” Geralt pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “It’s scary. It’s meant to be. Your body thinks it’s fighting for its life.”

“I am never letting you doom yourself like this ever again,” Yennefer said, and while it was probably meant to come out angry, she just sounded worried.

Geralt hummed and agreement. “Try again, we’ve got you. We’re not letting go.” Jaskier took a breath. They had him. They had him.

Yennefer lifted a hand to Jaskier’s temple. “May I?” And he let her in, easier than breathing. She gave him Ciri laughing, wind chimes on the breeze, the soft roar of the coast. Geralt hugged him tight, ran his other hand through Jaskier’s hair, tried to keep the bard’s breathing aligned. Now, what had he ever done to earn these two?

Soon, sleep came to him again, and he could feel Yennefer ready to soothe anything that came for him in his mind, Geralt ready to defend against anything that dared hurt his resting body. The darkness crept in, and he felt peace.

Geralt was reaching for him, falling, bleeding, screaming.

“FUCK!”

“Shh,” the real Geralt hushed him. “We’ve got you.”

“Fuck, there’s got to be something else,” Yennefer groaned. “What’ve you tried so far?”

“I have tried… to fall asleep.”

Yennefer and Geralt both huffed small laughs. “No. Positions—”

“Only the good ones.”

“Meditating?” Geralt asked.

“Darling, I haven’t had a thought in my head in hours. This is meditation.”

“Drugs?” Yennefer asked.

“I will try the drugs!” Jaskier said with a drowsy cheerfulness, as Geralt replied “No drugs. No.”

“Ugh,” Jaskier groaned, and shifted to lie on his stomach. Oh. This was… better. He nestled into the pillows, and a soft contented sigh drifted from him.

“That feel better?” Geralt asked as he ran a hand up and down Jaskier’s back. “Mmm,” Jaskier replied. Yennefer’s hand joined Geralt over his chest. Oh, they were going to make him cry.

And then it was too much, too much feeling, like his brain couldn’t handle all the sensation, and he felt Yennefer come to pause, and a moment later, Geralt’s hand as well. ‘That better?’ Yennefer asked in his mind. Jaskier gave her the memory of his favorite hug with her, warm and happy as her legs wrapped around his waist, and his favorite with Geralt, crushing and firm and full of too many emotions to speak aloud.

“Could…” he said softly, “Just. Talk? Not to me. Just… to each other. Just wanna hear you.” He could almost hear their smiles, and felt as they settled in on the pillows beside him, arms and hands intertwining on his back. Yennefer’s head on his shoulder, the gentle planes of Geralt’s chest on his other side. “If you need us, Yennefer and I are here. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

He nodded into the mattress, cool and soft below him.

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

“G’night Yennefer.”

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

"G’night, Geralt.”

He started to fade into oblivion, but stopped himself before he got too far. Not fear, not anxiety, a conscious stopping. Somewhere above him, Geralt was telling Yennefer about the contract from… sometime in the past few days, and Yennefer was telling her own story about some town gossip with a woman and her hens, which, it might have been a metaphor, but he’d basically forgotten what those were by now. He breathed deeply, felt their words flow through him, and when he felt brave enough, he let go, trusting they would catch him.

He could have sworn he heard wind chimes, somewhere.

The small amount of light filtering in through the curtains was golden when he awoke. His head both ached and felt light as a feather, his muscles screamed and cried but half of it was in relief. He gave a small stretch and yawned. “G’morning,” an amused Geralt said to him, lounging in a chair he’d brought beside the bed, reading a book. His legs were propped up on the bed beside the bard’s and Jaskier stretched to bump their toes together.

“What time…?”

“You slept 13 hours.”

“Fuck.”

“You probably need more.”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Feel alright?”

“Like a real human being,” he said. “Hungry, though.”

“Mmm.”

Yennefer slipped in the door, but, noticing Jaskier was awake, rose a hand. “May I?” she asked, voice dripping in sarcasm, gesturing to the curtains.

“You may,” Jaskier offered, covering his face with his hands. “Ohhhh, gods, how bad was I?”

“Genuinely awful,” Yennefer said, as Geralt was saying, “There’s been worse.”

“Normally I’d withhold this,” the mage said, withdrawing a small envelope from her pocket. “But, under the circumstances…” she cleared her throat.

“To one Julian Alfred Pankratz. We were extremely pleased to receive your manuscript yesterday afternoon. Our editors are will have their notes to you by the weekend, but we wanted to reach out and extend our most sincere compliments on your work. It is—oh, a flood of adjectives, I’m skipping these. Etcetera, etcetera, sucking your dick, etcetera alright, here—and meticulous in construction. We can tell,” Yennefer said, dragging out the final sentence, “you made good use of your year of writing time to complete the work.” Jaskier and Geralt by this point were holding back true howls of laughter.

“And won’t you believe it, there’s more. Ahem; we have a number of suggestions and questions already, but encourage you to get your well-deserved rest as we prepare our feedback. We are grateful to work with you, and thank you again for your stunning entry. There’s a postscript,” Yennefer added. “As a quick and personal note, we cannot have helped but notice the nature of your penmanship; we mean no offence, but would encourage you to see a doctor of the eye to fit you with some spectacles.”

“My—my penman…? What’d—” and Yennefer, who had clearly been waiting for this moment, brought out a rather crumpled piece of parchment with an ink stain at the bottom—ah, yes, the original page 64— and showed it to him. His eyes were… gods, they were aching, but he was clear minded enough now to see that each line had become at least twice it’s normal size. The lines were far from straight, dipping and bending toward the edge of the paper, the letters changed directions at random points, and a fair amount of the words were smudged so completely they were hard to make out.”

Jaskier stared in horror.

“They. Is that. Is that what it looked like? Really?”

“It’s worse than most of the ones that made it in,” Geralt said, carefully.

“Most?!”

“You drew pictures on one of them,” Yennefer said.

“Oh my god. They…they must…”

“Adore it, clearly,” Yennefer said, setting aside the paper. “It wasn’t worth the strain, and you’ve definitely firmly embarrassed yourself, but they’re either embarrassing themselves by fawning praise on you,” she said, sliding onto the bed, “Or you’re actually just… very knowledgeable and talented, even when addled by sleep deprivation.”

There was a pause, Jaskier soaking this in; it hadn’t been worth it, exactly, but it wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was quite good, and Yennefer was complimenting him outright, so, very good.

“Or both,” Geralt added.

“Definitely both,” Yennefer agreed.

Jaskier groaned. “You can’t be mean to me. You’re in my house and I am extremely tired, which means that you, by law, must kiss me and tell me nice things about myself.”

Geralt laughed, light and free, and Yennefer slunk slower down into the bed. “You get no kisses,” she said, “You get sleep and rest.” She grabbed a pillow from under her head and plopped it delicately onto Jaskier’s face.

“Boo,” Jaskier said, muffled beneath the thing. He closed his eyes. Geralt muttered something, and Yennefer gave a snort of laughter, and then there was silence.

“Are you two kissing up there?!”

More silence.

“UGH,” he groaned, and sunk into his soft, sweet mattress. Oh, beautiful mattress. How he adored it, how he adored his two loves on top of it. He listened to their kissing, soft, and sweet, and knew he’d join them soon. But it was so warm down here. Even as one of them removed the pillow, he could only bring himself to open his eyes for a moment, to see them both leaning to kiss his face gently, before returning to each other. He took a long, deep breath, and listened to them swirl around him, until all he could feel was their love and the sweet caress of his pillow.

#Geraskefer #Jaskier Whump #Soft Geralt #Soft Yennefer #The Witcher #Witcher Fic #jaskier #geralt #yennfer of vengerberg #sleep deprivation #insomnia #hurt/comfort #Witcher Whump #Butterbard's Fics

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heytherejulietx · 4 years

Text

Precious ~ Bughead

Masterlists

Requests are OPEN (Bughead only)

Read on AO3 here.

Notes - Ahh I really love this one and I think it’s super cute so please let me know what you think! This is inspired by something me and @kpopgirlbtssvt were talking about yesterday so thank you so much for the idea love, I love you so much and I hope you like it!!!!

Warnings - None.

Word count - 1.7k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @happy-puff @teenloves

To join my tag list fill out this form

If someone had asked Jughead during high school on his thoughts about being a father, he would have completely sworn off of the idea. After his childhood trauma with his own father, Jughead was scared. He was scared he would end up as a horrible father just like his own dad was. It seemed like the Jones curse, almost. His grandfather had treated his father badly, and his father hadn't treated him well either. Even after his dad was back home and they were getting along, it was still something that scared him. Jughead aimed to be a lot of things when he was older, but a father was not one of them.

But nothing could even compare to the feeling of holding his little girl in his arms for the first time.

Juliet Elizabeth Jones had been born at quarter to eleven in the evening on the tenth of February. And since that moment she had Jughead wrapped around his little finger. He would do anything for his little girl; she had him entranced just as much as Betty did. Maybe even more so, being as small and vulnerable as she was. He had worried all through Betty's pregnancy about being a father, if he would do it right and give his child a good childhood - a much better one than he had went through. But almost a year after Juliet was born, Jughead couldn't wish for a better life. He was happy and proud to be a father.

On a usual day, Betty would be up and out of bed before Jughead was, making breakfast or taking care of Juliet to give him an extra few minutes of sleep in peace. Though on a rare day, Jughead would get up before her and take over on what she would usually do. Guilt often rested in his chest for Betty doing things in the morning, and although she assured him it was fine and she wanted him to sleep more, it still felt wrong to him. They were married and had a baby together, so he really didn't mind letting Betty get some more well needed rest.

His urge to be up and doing things before Betty could lead to him being stood in the kitchen with Juliet balanced on his hip, one arm supporting her body against him as he used his free hand to flip the bacon that was sizzling in the frying pan on the stove in front of him. One thing that he both adored and stressed over was that Juliet was extremely clingy. Of course, it was adorable at first. Jughead loved any time he got with his daughter, and the fact that she wanted to cuddle all of the time was just so precious to him. But when he was trying to do things like cook breakfast or work on his writing, it was harder to do so when having to hold his daughter. He had already tried putting her in her high-chair once before so he could have both hands free, but at the mere sight of his daughter's bottom lip quivering as her big round eyes filled with tears he lifted her up again and rocked her until she was content again.

One thing Jughead liked to do was constantly be entertaining Juliet in some way, even whilst he was holding her. When he had her with him when he was writing he would jog his leg every so often and make her giggle at the movement, when he was sat with her doing nothing of any particular importance he would tell her stories. But when he was trying to juggle cooking and holding her, which happened much more often than you would think, Jughead hummed to her. He couldn't sing well like Betty could (it melted his heart every time he watched his beautiful wife sing their daughter to sleep) but he could hum as good of a tune as anyone else could.

Juliet giggled into the crook of Jughead's neck as he moved around the kitchen, humming the tune of Green Day's Boulevard of Broken Dreams as he moved around. He couldn't have said he was too big of a fan of theirs, but JB's everchanging taste in music ended up in many different records that she had gifted Jughead and Betty for Christmases and birthdays. The most recent album, American Idiot, was one he had actually enjoyed; in comparison to the album before that (a Taylor Swift one that Betty seemed to enjoy quite a lot) it was a lot better in his opinion.

A slightly louder laugh left his daughter as he gently pretended to drop her for a moment, a squeal of giggles filling the kitchen as she clutched onto the collar of his shirt tightly. His own lips curved into a fond smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, her raven curls tickling his cheek for that moment.

"Please don't drop our daughter."

Jughead looked up and smiled a little more when he caught sight of his wife shuffling into the kitchen, visibly still half asleep. The upper half of her body was engulfed in one of his softer flannels that she ended up wearing more than him, and besides that the only other thing she was wearing was a pair of white fuzzy socks on her feet. Even though she still looked tired and her hair was a little messy, she was still beautiful to him. There had never been a moment where she wasn't. But she was more beautiful to him simply at knowing that she was his wife and the mother of his child.

Jughead kept supporting Juliet on his hip as he put the spatula down on the counter, holding out his arm for Betty to move into as she shuffled closer to him. Her arms moved around him to hold herself close as she mumbled a muffled "morning" into his shoulder, a kiss pressed to his exposed collarbone once she had spoken.

"Sleep okay?" Jughead smiled softly as he leaned down to drop a kiss to her hairline, watching as she reached up her hand to brush through Juliet's curly hair, the same colour as his own. Although she had his hair, he believed that the rest of her beauty was entirely Betty; from her wide green eyes and her rounder features. It was all her. Only she could make something so beautiful.

"Mhm." Betty hummed and nodded, leaning up on her tiptoes to gently press a kiss to his cheek before she pulled away from him to move across the kitchen to where the kettle was, grabbing two mugs for both herself and Jughead.

"I can do that." Jughead offered as he picked the spatula up again, though Betty just shook her head. Once she was doing something it was hard to get her to stop, being probably more stubborn than he was, though after years of being together Jughead still tried.

"It's fine, love. You have Julie." Betty smiled as she shook her head as she poured out a mug of coffee for Jughead, making herself a cup of tea instead.

"I think it's going to be a struggle to give her to Jellybean later." Jughead chuckled as he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his daughter's head, who was still gently clutching the collar of his shirt in tiny fists, her head resting into the crook of his neck again.

"What time is she getting here, again?" Betty's voice came from behind him, and before he could protest she had taken the spatula out of his hand and took over on dishing up the bacon and eggs. Deciding to just let her take over he gently touched her lower back and moved past her to grab his coffee instead.

"In about an hour. Gives us enough time to get munchin ready." He lightly poked Juliet in her side and caused her to giggle as she squirmed a little in his grip, though didn't let go.

Jughead took a seat at their kitchen table just as Betty walked over with the plates and sat them down on the surface. Once he was seated he shifted Juliet to be sat in his lap facing the table, smiling softly as Betty placed a small plate of sliced banana in front of her; he'd been so occupied with Juliet he hadn't even seen her cut it.

"Are we still meeting your dad for lunch?" Betty asked as she sat down beside him, smiling fondly as she watched Juliet munch happily on her banana slices. It was something she had always said to Jughead ever since Juliet was born, that she had his appetite.

"Yeah, but I mean we don't have to tell him if you want to wait." Jughead smiled at her softly, reaching a hand out to place it on her thigh, gently squeezing as he moved his free hand to shovel some eggs into his mouth.

"No, I want to. We'll have the scan picture. Plus it'd be nice if he's the first to know." Betty smiled softly and nodded, placing her hand over her husband's as she took a sip of her tea, the cold band of her wedding ring resting over his knuckle.

"At least it'll distract him from his favourite not being there." Jughead chuckled and gestured towards Juliet.

Ever since Juliet was born, she had meant the world to everyone close to their small family, but she was the world to FP. He had been so excited to be a grandfather throughout all of Betty's pregnancy, maybe even more so than Alice was to be a grandmother. Every time FP was with Juliet it was hard to separate the two. It was like they both were each other's favourites.

"It is quite a big distraction." Betty giggled quietly and nodded her head.

Jughead gently moved her hand up from her thigh to her stomach, flattening the material of his flannel against it to reveal the small bump forming there. He lightly ran his thumb along it softly, before leaning over to press a gentle but loving kiss to Betty's lips, warmth pooling inside him when he felt her smile into it.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too, Juggie."

#amber’s writing #riverdale #riverdale fic #bughead #bughead fluff #bughead one shot #bughead oneshot #bughead imagine #bughead fic #riverdale bughead #betty cooper #bettycooper #jughead #jughead jones #jugheadjones #betty cooper x jughead jones #jughead jones x betty cooper

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dulce-pjm · 4 years

Text

clean up on aisle seven!

word count: 3.3k

genre: casual fluff :)

summary: you really didn’t want to go on this grocery trip. and now you’re stuck trying to track down that last thing your mom needs while the clock is ticking before she checks out. but something (or someone) might just make you lose track of time.

This is your worst nightmare. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breaths were shallow and staggered, and you could feel droplets of sweat quickly accumulating on your forehead. You’d just suffered finals week and you could definitely say this was the most stressful situation you’d experienced in your life.

This might be where you die.

Actually, if you died now, your mother would drag you back from the grave and kill you again for being so dramatic.

You were standing helpless in the middle of the produce section of your hometown’s grocery store, desperately looking for the red potatoes. And while you frantically scanned for the vegetable- Are potatoes vegetables? Maybe they’re starches. Or a root. It isn’t important. What is important is that you have no clue where they are and your mom is currently in the checkout line, wondering what’s taking so long.

Onions, leeks, asparagus, radishes, cabbage. . .

Maybe you were looking in the wrong place. You circle the aisle, hoping you don’t look like a madwoman as you wring your hands and tug at your hair.

You were a STEM major, for god’s sake! You just crushed your sophomore finals (maybe. probably. you completed them, it’s all that matters), you were not going to let some stupid red potatoes and a fear of abandonment you’ve harbored since childhood distress you in this way.

Spinach, lettuce, carrots, celery. . .

You know, you never should have agreed to go on this grocery trip. Just an hour before now, you’d been comfortable in bed, sleeping in to your heart’s content. But it’s the holidays and you know your mom likes to run her errands with someone and the guilt was just too much. So you let her drag you out of bed and you barely got to brush your teeth before she was dragging you out of the house, too. You probably looked like a wreck. You sure felt like one.

Tomatoes, avocadoes, peppers. . .

Normally by now you’d suck it up and ask an employee for help like the adult you were supposed to be, but, just your luck, the entire section is void of any workers. Honestly, good for them. You’re sure they’re tired of dealing with hopeless idiots like you, anyway.

Garlic, strawberries, blueberries. . .

Who puts garlic next to strawberries? And how did you end up in the fruit section? Even you could do a better job organizing this place. Or maybe you have poor observational skills. You decide not to dwell on which thought is more correct.

You rush back to where you started, begging your eyes to actually work and help you with this one task.

And then: a miracle. Yellow potatoes! You scan the vicinity and...

No red potatoes to be found. Maybe there’s no such thing as red potatoes. Maybe your mom just wanted you to go away for a while. Well, no, that can’t be it. You’re certain you’ve had red potatoes before.

The stress was getting to you. By now, your mom was probably loading her groceries onto the conveyor belt, annoyed at your slow pace and mind.

You know, in many other situations you’d actually consider yourself good under pressure. Put you in a lab coat and in front of a titration and you were a goddamn genius, if you did say so yourself. But once you weren’t poring over textbooks or analyzing data, you felt completely useless. Ask you to cook and you’ll set the kitchen ablaze. Anything more athletic than a casual jog is off the table. Your friends often joke that you can’t even be trusted with a microwave. For good reason. How were you supposed to know those chicken sandwich bags can’t go in the microwave? They’re made of paper.

Other shoppers bristle past you to grab their own groceries, but all you can do is reply with a few murmured “sorries” and stand in the middle of the place looking like a lost puppy. To them, you look utterly distressed. A few shoppers consider asking if you’re okay, but little do they know there’s only one question plaguing your mind.

“Where are the motherfucking red potatoes?!”

You didn’t mean for it to slip out, but at least there’s no one close enough to hear-

A giggle rings from the other side of the waist-high aisle you’ve been staring at. Your eyes slide up to meet the gaze of a boy not too much taller than you- kind of cute too- but the important thing is that he’s staring right at you. Very obviously trying (and failing) to fight an uncontrollable grin on his face.

Your cheeks heat like a furnace. All you can do is stand and stare, caught red-handed cursing over produce at the corner grocery store.

The boy with full, boyish cheeks, twinkling eyes, and a very cute smile that you might consider infectious in any other scenario leans forward on the tips of his toes and peers at the side the aisle you’ve been intently gazing at for the past several minutes. To your horror, he lifts his finger and points just inches from where you were just looking.

“Maybe right there?” It isn’t said sarcastically or with even a hint of ridicule, but despite his genuine nature you only grow more sheepish. You wish you could shrink into your sweatshirt and never come back out.

You lower your eyes to the direction he’s pointing and lo and behold, there are several bags of red potatoes just under your nose.

“Oh. . uh. . Thanks.” You tentatively reach and grab a bag, your eyes not leaving the boy’s face. You can’t help but notice the line forming between his eyebrows and the way he cocks his head to the side. Now, that you think about it, there’s something distinctly familiar about him.

“Wait, Y/N?” Your eyebrows raise, and that seems to be all the confirmation he needs to know that you somewhat recognize him too. “I’m Jimin!” He continues when you don’t respond. “We were best friends when we were, what, six or seven?”

The memories immediately begin rushing back. Though many of your memories from back then have faded, you can remember very distinctly the elementary days full of you and a younger version of the boy across from you causing mischief. More specifically, the two of you thought up increasingly risky pranks to play on your parents and friends until one or both of you got the scolding of a lifetime. You’d nearly completely forgotten about him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you finally manage. “It’s been a while.” Jimin circles to your side of the aisle.

“Oh my god! When was the last time I saw you?” Jimin thinks for a moment. “Wasn’t it your birthday party? When we hid in the bathroom cabinet and it took them hours to find us!” The memory has the both of you giggling.

“Yeah! My mom would have grounded me for scaring her so badly if it wasn’t my birthday.” The atmosphere is comfortable. Almost as if it had been no time at all.

“I think if anyone was scared, it was you. Weren’t you terrified of the dark?” You blush despite the ridiculousness of his teasing.

“Hey! I talk to you for two minutes after all this time and you’re already back to making fun of me?” Despite their legitimacy, the words carry no malice and you’re grinning from ear to ear. A smirk plays on Jimin’s cheeks and you catch yourself studying his features. It should seem normal, but you’re slightly struck by how much he’s grown up. His baby fat is long gone, replaced with a striking and defined look despite his sweet and boyish features. His brunette locks are neatly cut, his bangs complimenting his cheeks and forming a slight heart shape on his forehead. He’s cute.

If you weren’t so caught up in your own embarrassment, you might have noticed the endeared look he’s giving you as he studies your face at the same time.

“What can I say?” he replies with a shrug. “You’ve always been easy to tease.” You scoff, shifting the bag of potatoes in your arms.

“Speak for yourself, crayon-eater.” Jimin’s giggle is infectious, drawing a snort or two out of you, though you desperately try to play it off as just a cough.

“Where did you end up going? I never saw you after that.”

“Ahh, we moved to the other side of the city. It was pretty sudden.” Jimin nods in understanding.

“I guess you moved again for college, too?” he asks tentatively, gesturing to your sweatshirt. You glance down at the university logo before meeting his eyes again.

“Yeah, I’m just back for the holidays. You?”

“I go to university in the city. Just picking up some groceries for my family. I tend to do our grocery shopping on weekday mornings anyway, since most of my classes are in the afternoon.” You learn that Jimin is a communications major, which you think suits his personality spectacularly. Jimin is not even close to surprised to find out you’ve dedicated yourself in chemistry.

“And to think, just yesterday we were making potions from mud in your backyard. You’re practically a prodigy. Can I get your autograph? You know, for when you become a famous scientist saving the world and all that?” You shake your head, noting that Jimin is just as ridiculous as you remember him.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you muse. “But I’m leaning more towards education. I’d like to teach high schoolers one day, maybe college students too.” Now that strikes Jimin as a surprise, evident by his shocked expression. You can’t help staring at the way his lips puff out in an unintentional pout.

“Really? You want to deal with those brats? We just left high school and you already want back?” If your mom thought you were a drama queen, Jimin had you beat tenfold. He’d always been a bit of a class clown, always supplying exaggerated expressions and stupid jokes to garner as many laughs as possible. You roll your eyes.

“They’re not that bad.” You pause. “Well, they are pretty bad but I think I could get through it if I knew I could make at least one kid excited about science, you know?” You inwardly cringe at your mini-spiel. Normally once you get talking about your love for chemistry, your friends zone out or casually change the subject to avoid massive boredom. But to your surprise, Jimin doesn’t seem the least bit annoyed at your sappy, nerd-ish outlook on your career. Instead, he’s nodding with you, attentive and interested.

“That’s. . . really nice.” You blush, stopping yourself from going on a further tangent, sure he has much better things to be doing than listening to you go on and on.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You twiddle your thumbs and Jimin tugs on the sleeves of his oversized sweater. “Do you still have that cat? What did you name him... Snuggles?”

“Chubbles!” he nearly shouts with a massive smile. “And yeah, I do. He’s still overweight as ever. And old as hell. But I love the grumpy thing to pieces.”

“He was so cute! I remember cuddling with him while watching cartoons together.”

“Oh my god, yeah! That was the only time my mom would let me eat in the living room. I swear those waffles tasted better in front of the tv screen.” The story sparks a memory in your mind.

“Hey, wanna know a secret?” Jimin leans in slightly, confused but definitely interested. You pause for effect. “My mom didn’t let us eat in the living room either. I only said that because you wanted to and I thought it’d convince your mom.” Jimin feigns a gasp, putting a hand on his chest.

“Are you serious? I was jealous of you for years after that and it wasn’t even true? You said your family always ate in the living room.”

“I may have exaggerated a lot of things back then in order to impress you.”

“No way. Then do I really know you at all? Was everything a lie?” You find yourself laughing again. Talking with him is easy, like being kids again.

You shrug. “I like to maintain an aura of mystery.” Now Jimin’s the one rolling his eyes at your antics.

“Hey, speaking of Chubbles, do you want to see a picture of him? My mom posted the best picture of him on Facebook the other day.” Jimin whips out his phone. While others might find a college student doting on his cat and his mom’s Facebook a bit dorky, you find it all too endearing.

“Um, of course!” You step towards him to peer at his phone. But instead of cat pictures, all the two of you see is an endless loading screen.

“Shit. My service sucks out here. I’m sorry.” He gives an apologetic look, but you’re quick to brush it off.

“No, it’s okay. You can just send it to me later.” The connotation of your words hit you like a freight train and you’re about to not-so-eloquently take them back, but Jimin beats you, a smile is plastered across his face. A part of you wants to reach up and squish his cheeks together, but you don’t need to create any more reason for the other shoppers to think you’re unhinged. Also, personal space.

“Oh, great. I’ll just get your number-”

“Y/N.” You freeze, your head whipping around behind you to where your mother stands. She glares at you with her hands set on her hips, no groceries in sight.

“Oh, um, oops.” You muster the best smile you can but your mother is anything but amused. “I found the red potatoes!” You hold up the bag that’s been making your arms ache, as if that would magically fix the situation. She scoffs.

“And while you did, I checked out, paid, put the groceries in the car, and realized that we’d already gotten red potatoes. They were just piled under all that sugary cereal you insist on-” Her eyes flicker to the boy standing awkwardly behind you when she lets out a scream of joy. “Park Jimin!” She nearly shoves you aside to wrap him in a hug, instantly recognizing him despite years of not seeing him. Though if Jimin’s mom is active on Facebook, you guess your mom has seen plenty of Jimin via social media. While you stare incredulously at your mother, Jimin is staring at you, internally laughing at your expression.

“How’s your mother? Is she well? Healthy?” Jimin nods with a charming smile.

“Yes, she’s great.” Your mom is clutching Jimin’s hands as if she’s in her seventies and not her forties. Jimin awkwardly shifts his grocery basket to his elbow, but your mom pays no mind to the uncomfortable position he’s in.

“Oh, you’ve grown so much! I can still remember the days when you two were taking baths together!” Your face blanches while Jimin chokes. Knowing the volume of your mom’s voice, you’re sure the entire grocery store knows your and Jimin’s history now. “You know, I was just thinking about your mother the other day. When we were pregnant with the two of you, we-”

“Hey, Mom.” You place a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you think we should get going? The groceries are in the car...”

“Oh! You’re right, sweetie,” she smiles. It seems that all it took was Jimin’s charm (and by charm, you mean standing there with that grin of his) for her to completely forget about your previous transgression. She turns back to Jimin. “It was lovely to see you, dear. Please tell your mother I said hello. We really should have a get-together over the holidays, don’t you think?”

“That sounds like a great idea, Mrs. L/N,” Jimin says, his eyes trailing to you. “Sorry for keeping your daughter. We were reconnecting and lost track of time.”

“You’re too sweet. I’m sure my daughter was the one babbling on about whatever popped into her head next. It’s no wonder she got lost looking for potatoes, she’s so easily distracted. You know, we had to put her on a leash as a child.” Your cheeks flush red while you get the sense that Jimin is enjoying this a little too much, despite his awkward smile.

“Oh...” You can tell he’s doing his best to spare you the mortification, but if anything his efforts to conceal his laughter only make you more eager to end the conversation.

“Uh... Mom... Groceries...”

“Fine, fine. You didn’t seem to care that much when you were flirting in the produce aisle.” Now that is the final straw.

“Mom! Oh my god, let’s just go.” You feel like a teenager again, embarrassed and at your mother’s mercy. “Bye, Jimin! It was nice seeing you!” You grab your mother by the elbow and nearly drag her out of the store, tossing the red potatoes back onto the aisle as you go. You barely catch Jimin’s weak wave as you storm out.

“He really is such a sweet boy, I’ll have to give his mother a call.” Call. That’s right. You forgot to give him your number.

On pure instinct alone, you spring around, abandoning your mother in the parking lot to sprint back inside.

“Y/N? Y/N! Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back! Start the car!” Your mother sighs and shakes her head. You imagine she’s pinching the bridge of her nose and wondering how her child still acts like a seven-year-old chasing after butterflies.

You find Jimin not far from where you left him, skimming through the juices. You do your best not to show how heavy you’re breathing or how you’ve nearly broken a sweat. And you curse yourself for not using the university gym more often. Upon seeing you reappear, Jimin’s face lights up, albeit somewhat confused.

“Oh, hey.” He holds up two jugs of orange juice. “Pulp or no pulp?” You freeze for a moment.

“Pulp. Obviously.” Jimin nods in agreement, putting the jug in his basket. He looks at you expectantly. “And I forgot to give you my number.” You quickly catch yourself. “For that Chubbles pictures.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Jimin’s hand rises to the back of his neck nervously as you punch the digits into his phone, making a contact for yourself. If your friends saw you now, they’d think you’d been replaced by aliens or finally gone over the edge. But something in you just had to do it.

“Send me that picture, yeah?” You hand him back his phone.

“Of course.” Jimin gives you a salute, making you giggle shamelessly again. With nothing more to say, you spin on your heel and speed walk out of the store to be mercilessly interrogated by your mother.

Jimin shakes his head and smiles to himself as he watches your retreating form. He makes a mental note to go through his mom’s scrapbooks to find a childhood photo of you two to use as your profile picture.

While your mom is berating you for wasting time and questioning your intentions with Jimin, you couldn’t be happier, grinning from ear to ear. Didn’t Jimin say he did the grocery shopping on weekday mornings?

“Y/N, are you listening to me?” You nod vigorously, which is enough for her when she switches to ranting about gas prices nowadays.

But in reality, you’re not listening at all. You’re planning your next grocery trip.

At least next time you’ll know where to find the motherfucking red potatoes. Though you doubt you’ll need to remember. Something tells you Jimin will remember this for a long time too.

#bts #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #bts scenario #jimin scenario #bts fluff #kind of boring but short and sweet (i hope)

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years

Text

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter seven: a little death

word count: 11.1k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: gore. so much gore. "a little death”? more like a lotta death. yeah it’s just blood and guts, and then john is kind of a fucker for like .0000005 seconds

notes: hi folks! we've got another big'un, a little more john/elliot centric with some plot threads starting to weave together. i'm really excited with where things are going and how things are shaping up, and i hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!

special thank you to @shallow-gravy for lending me her eyeballs to proof this chapter <3 dani and sylvia both are characters of @starcrier's beautiful talented mind and she was kind of enough to help me fill out the cast for the world i'm working on!

as always, thank you so much to everyone who reads/comments/kudoses/likes; whatever your form of support is, it really means the absolute most to me and it's the whole reason i keep going!

“Well, well, well, Mr. Seed!”

It was Sylvia’s cheerful voice that first put a smile on Elliot’s face. It was the ensuing expression on John’s face when he realized he’d have to slide into boots worn by at least twenty other people that kept it there. He grimaced as he set his own perfectly tidy shoes to the side and pulled the first Wellington on.

John had done the right thing by swapping out the collared shirt he’d been halfway through putting on into a black turtleneck—still, certainly, more expensive than perhaps any item of clothing Elliot herself had ever owned, but less pretentious than a silky button-up.

“Right size?” Via asked.

He forced the grimace into a smile. “Perfect fit.”

With a satisfied nod, the blonde turned back to Elliot and handed her the lead to the horse she was going to brush—a hefty Clydesdale that plodded out of his stall obediently. He nosed her pockets for treats, whuffling against her offered but empty palm before she started tying him to keep him in place for a good brushing.

“You look fit as a fiddle and ready to ride,” Via announced, clapping John on the shoulder once he’d gotten his shoes swapped out. “What do you think? Wanna climb on up?”

“On that?” John asked incredulously when the blonde indicated the bay.

“Yes sir. Hugo’s great for beginners.”

“Hugo’d be great to stomp me to death,” he muttered. “Ah, no thank you, Sylvia—I think I’ll stick with the ground for now.”

“Suit yourself.”

She gave Elliot’s shoulder a quick squeeze before setting off at a brisk pace. At the barn, Via always seemed to operate on a different kind of frequency—she was still quick to smile and quicker to laugh, but there was definitely something more businesslike going on. John watched her go for a minute, mouth downturned in a frown, before his gaze returned to Elliot.

“So,” he said, “what are we doing?”

“I’m brushing Hugo,” she replied primly. “You can...give him a treat, or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to do something?”

Elliot sighed, patting Hugo’s neck and giving him a scratch. The bay turned his head, regarding John for a moment before bumping his muzzle against her hip affectionately.

“Here,” she said, holding out a brush. “You can brush him.”

It was John’s turn to do the regarding, then, eyes darting down to the brush and then back up at Elliot. He did still look a bit ridiculous—walking around in the Wellingtons, brushing loose wisps of hay that had somehow managed to cling to his turtleneck, the normally perfectly-slicked back hair falling loose and unruly. As John weighed the brush in his hand like it was some kind of artifact, he gave Hugo an awkward pat on the nose and one stilted brush along his neck.

“Great,” Elliot chirped. “Just keep doing that, but...better.”

She stepped away, leaving John with the horse and heading down the main hall. She’d taken about five steps before she heard John go, “Wait, where are you going?” and she turned to look at him, brows pulling together in something close to pity.

He looked so uncomfortable. And it was so good.

“To brush another horse, honey,” she replied, voice dripping with sugar. “What, did you think we were going to hold hands while you made yourself useful?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve gotten mouthy,” he said, eyes on her as she clipped a lead onto her usual equine companion, a handsome palomino named Butterscotch.

“I’ve always been mouthy, John.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

A few minutes of silence lapsed between them, filled only by the occasional whuff of horse breath or John muttering a swear. Elliot had just gotten into the rhythm with the palomino, gliding her hands and the brush across his neck in slow, even strokes, when John said, “So, you’ve been coming here a lot then, huh?”

Elliot let out a sigh. “This is supposed to be my quiet time.”

“I’m just curious,” John replied. “What made you want to start spending time around big, smelly animals?”

She dropped the brush in a bucket, fishing out the comb and starting to work on some of the knots. “Doctor’s orders.”

John made a low noise, agreeable even though she thought that he might be burning over there. Back in Hope County, he’d been determined to know her—get inside of her, get in the nitty-gritty, dig his elbows up into her guts and gore and figure out every little thing about her and what it was that she was keeping from him.

It made her wonder if he had read the file Joseph had compiled on her. It had been given to him, after all, like a trophy. Like she was a trophy, a gift from Joseph to him. His reward.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Maybe that is what John thought; that all of his ragged attempts at convincing her that what they’d had, those fleeting moments, had been love. But she’d seen the way he’d looked when Joseph had praised him, the way he tiptoed around himself and his true nature, always with a foot on Joseph’s side and one on hers. Now, watching him stand awkwardly to the side of a giant Clydesdale, making an attempt at integrating into her daily life—it was almost sickening, to think that she had been the prize in some weird game for Joseph’s approval.

“Left him all alone with Hugo, huh?” Sylvia asked, jarring her out of her thoughts and reminding her that she’d been brushing the same spot in the palomino’s mane for a while now.

“Ah, yeah,” Elliot replied, clearing her throat and focusing on a different spot. You make me sick, she wanted to tell him, the warmth of the morning evaporating in the wake of her anger. You make me fucking sick, I won’t forget it, I can’t forget it, fuck you fuck you. “He could squirm a little. Builds character.”

Via’s eyes narrowed playfully, squinting at John as he gave the bay a hearty pat on the neck. “Not an animal person, huh?”

She felt her mouth twist wryly, wanting to say something vicious. Something mean. Something—

( I’m glad I didn’t break that wrathful streak out of you, )

“City boy,” is what she ended up supplying, to which Via went ahh, as though that explained a lot. In a lot of ways, it did.

“How’re you holdin’ up over there, buddy?” the blonde called down the hall, Hugo’s ears flicking in her direction. John glanced up and planted a smile on his face that was so canned Elliot thought he couldn’t have seemed like he meant it any less.

“Fine,” John said, like he was on automatic, and then quickly added, “Great, actually. We’re bonding, Hugo and I. The two of us.”

“Yeah?” Via’s head tilted. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Yes. A pair, he and I.”

“Good,” she replied cheerfully. “You can take him on a walk then.”

“Huh?” came the intelligent reply, followed by the unceremonious drop of the brush in the nearby bucket. “What?”

“Take him out, stretch his legs a little,” Via explained, her voice warm. “He’s a nice boy, you two are pals. Should go fine.”

John grimaced. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Elliot had to swallow back a laugh when Via asked, “You don’t know how to walk?”

The brunette sucked his teeth. A little smile was on his face, but it was the same kind of smile he’d given Elliot when she said something particularly mean-spirited—and though Sylvia West was clearly not a mean-spirited person, she had yet to find John very charming at all. Jury was still out, after all. Elliot was sure that bothered him.

“I’ll show you,” Elliot sighed, after a few seconds of Via waiting patiently for John to explain himself. “Just unclip the—”

“Don’t stress it, Freckles,” Via interjected gently. “You’re busy with Butterscotch. I’ll help John.”

She hesitated, feeling a sudden jolt of panic. Via was saying, take care of yourself. She was saying, put yourself first. She was saying, you don’t have to jump to do the stuff all the time. But it had been so long—so long of trying to prioritize herself and choosing other people.

You don’t have to Atlas this thing yourself, deputy, Jerome had said, like she wanted to let someone else handle it, like she wanted to be alone with herself.

But before Elliot could convince herself that it was more important that she show John how to do something fairly self-explanatory, before she could protest that Via was too busy, the blonde picked up the brush, put it back in her hand and crossed the hall to John with great purpose.

“Don’t worry, bud, I’ll make sure you don’t get trampled,” Sylvia chirped at John, unclipping the lead from the hook in the wall and setting it in his hand.

“Thanks, Sylvia.”

“No sweat, that’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”

“Lot of money, having people walk horses around?”

She flashed a smile that was all teeth. “Tons. I fill my pool up with hundred-dollar bills just for fun. Swim around in it and everythin’.”

John’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. He glanced back at Elliot, their eyes meeting for a moment—and maybe it did make her regret, a little, all of the poison she’d been thinking about him; maybe seeing him standing there and jesting with Sylvia and giving her that boyish smile made her regret thinking about how much she hated that he wanted to know her, all of her, all of the yucky, nasty bits of her that she wished didn’t exist.

Watching him walk out the front of the barn in the rubber boots, Hugo plodding along amicably behind him while Sylvia chattered, made Elliot wonder what it would have been like if he’d kept his word; if he’d meant it when he’d said that they would leave Hope County. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she and John were meant for each other like he’d claimed. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she didn’t want anyone else, maybe she wanted someone who kissed her when she was still covered in another man’s blood, who didn’t mind when her fingers itched and burned for acts of violence.

Yours must surely be the sin of Wrath.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he was it for her, Elliot thought while John and Sylvia walked the Clydesdale in a big loop around the snowy parking lot. Maybe she never would find someone who loved her, all of her grit and gore and venom, the way that John did.

The way that he’d looked at her scar, then a wound, with adoration, his hands red with her blood. The way he’d said, It’s going to look so good on you.

“That’s okay,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone, feeling the palomino’s velvety muzzle bump her hand impatiently for her attention. “I’m—”

Not ‘I’m’. It wasn’t ‘I’m’ anymore. It’s not just about you, anymore.

“We’re,” Elliot amended, swallowing thickly, “just fine being alone.”

If she said it enough times, maybe she would learn to believe it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You really never walked a horse before, huh?”

John glanced up, his gaze darting to the blonde that had been walking alongside him as they circled the parking lot. This is not what he wanted to be doing. When he’d said he was coming with Elliot to the barn, what he’d anticipated had been something closer to getting time with her—out of the house, away from the dog and her mother, and in a situation that was more comfortable for her. She clearly liked coming here, or she wouldn��t have strongly considered objecting to his tagging along.

Hm, something inside of him said, doesn’t that say something, that she doesn’t want you in a place she feels happy and safe?

No. Not really. Not in the least.

“I haven’t,” John replied after a moment, realizing that Sylvia was waiting very patiently for his answer, without rushing or prompting him. That was probably why Elliot liked her. “It’s funny, I grew up in Georgia and never seemed to be around a horse my entire life.”

“That is funny,” Sylvia agreed, without laughing or cracking much more than a polite smile.

His eyes narrowed. He pushed a smile onto his face, the rope hung loosely in his hand as Hugo trailed along beside him, content to brush at the ground with his nose once in a while. John thought, there’s got to be a way to figure you out. There’s got to be something. What did Elliot say to you about me, Sylvia? What did she tell you that’s making you this obstinate?

Just as John opened his mouth to say something, the blonde said, “You know, I don’t like you much, Mr. Seed.”

He closed his mouth, stopping at the far end of the parking lot. Sylvia turned to look at him, her gaze scrutinizing, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know what I did to disenchant you, Sylvia, but—”

“I spend a lot of time with troubled people,” she interjected, and infuriatingly she did it so kindly that it almost lost its insulting edge.

Swallowing, John’s brain scrambled rapidly, looking for some kind of footing before he began as amenably as possible, “I hear equine therapy is beneficial to plenty of people—”

“Doctors and therapists send folks here all the time to try and get some kinda relief. I don’t always know what it is, but I’ll tell you one thing: that girl in there—she came in looking more haunted than a cemetery, and the way she looked when I first saw her is the same way she looked when I caught y’all on the street.”

The polite smile dropped from her face. “I don’t like that she got that look back.”

John bit back his venom and said, “To be frank, you don’t know anything about our relationship.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Sylvia replied lightly. She turned to him, and reiterated with pointed firmness, “All the same, I don’t like it, and I don’t like you, John Seed.”

“You’re awful polite,” he said tartly, “for a woman who doesn’t like me.”

Sylvia sucked her teeth in a gesture that was reminiscent of going come on, shaking her head again and huffing out a sigh. “You strike me as a man that hasn’t ever been just plain old disliked before,” she said, planting a hand on his shoulder even though he easily had two or three inches on her. “Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless, John. Jesus Christ, people been givin’ up on you that fast, huh?”

John blinked rapidly. That was not the answer he had anticipated. The words rattled around in his head, clanging painfully loud, foreign and unfamiliar and scary in how it felt to have someone, Sylvia, look at him and say, people been givin’ up on you that fast?

Mentally scrabbling, he brushed her hand from his shoulder and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly fine. I just don’t understand putting yourself through the trouble of being nice to someone if you don’t like them, that’s all.”

“People can change,” Sylvia told him plainly. “After all, you said you’ve never been around a horse before, right?”

“Well—”

“And now here you are, walking a horse around an empty parking lot in Nowhere, Georgia. I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you?”

John snapped his mouth shut. There was something unsettling about the way Sylvia was looking at him; like she was seeing him, really, right then and there, after knowing her for so little time. It was the same—

It was the same way Joseph looked at people. Seeing them, for exactly as they were, with everything they brought to the table. So why did it feel different when Sylvia looked at him? Why did it feel different from Joseph when she looked at him and said, I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you? Why did it feel more real?

“You’d probably best head back in,” Sylvia continued after a minute, smiling at him brightly. “Hugo’s an old man, he doesn’t like to be out that long. Much rather prefer to be inside and warm.”

“Yeah,” John said after a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I’d better.”

He didn’t like this, not at all. He especially didn’t like the feeling of Sylvia, a woman who blatantly did not like him, seeing him.

Turning, John started back across the parking lot to the barn, the hefty Clydesdale trailing obediently behind. It wasn’t until he was nearly to the doorway that he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket; pulling it out with his free hand, John brought the horse to a stop and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, John.”

It was Joseph. Speak of the devil, something in him whispered as he glanced back over his shoulder at Sylvia beginning to trek down into one of the riding yards.

“Joseph,” John said, clearing his throat, “I’m so happy you called.”

“How are things going?” His brother’s voice maintained its typical serenity, but there was a strange idleness to it, like he wasn’t fully invested in their conversation. It was unlike him, to sound like this—to sound absent, or troubled.

“They’re good,” he began cautiously. He wondered if Isolde had told Joseph about him hanging up on her. It would be just like her. “Really good. There was a doctor’s appointment yesterday—” That Elliot didn’t let me go to, he thought, as Joseph made an agreeable noise to show he was listening, “—and the baby is healthy. Really healthy, and good, and next week we’re going to find out the gender. Elliot’s been going to these stables because the doctor thinks it’s good for her stress—”

Joseph’s voice cut in over him, sharp and impatient. “Do you know what’s going to be really good for the deputy’s stress?”

He shifted on his feet. “It’s just, she’s been talking to the doctor about it—”

“There will be bombs dropping, John.”

“I—know that,” he replied quickly, glancing back at the barn and seeing Elliot dusting her hands off on the top of her jeans, having put the palomino away. “I know that, Joseph, I promise, I—”

“There will be no baby to be worried about,” his brother continued, “if you and our sister are not here when they fall on us.”

Joseph bit the word out, sister, like it was a cyanide pill crushed between his canines. Just hearing his brother’s voice change like that made John’s throat feel tight. The anxiety of hearing Joseph’s displeasure was rising up high and hot in his throat, and Elliot was walking towards him, head cocked to the side curiously, and if she knew he was talking to Joseph she was going to go ballistic. She would, and he would be back to square one—and he’d only just gotten a little bit closer; the feeling of the soft skin of her throat beneath his fingers from earlier that morning still lingered, burned in his memory.

“I understand,” John said automatically, pitching his voice low. “I do, I’ll—”

“You have a week left. I won’t wait for you.”

“Joseph—”

“I’ve given you great freedom to fetch your wife and child, when I have every reason to have left her to Hell.”

His stomach wrenched. He knew it. He knew Joseph was angry about it. Regret flooded him; he should have stayed back in Hope County a little while longer, until Joseph was done in his solitude, to talk to him first. “I know, please, if you would—”

“The next life is something that has to be earned,” came his brother’s voice, sharpening as he spoke, “and your wife has done nothing but reject the absolution that I—” He paused. “—we offered her, at every turn.”

I know, John wanted to say, but could not; what would be the point? What would it matter? He’d said it a handful of times already, but Joseph was angry, he was so mad, so mad, and all that time spent back in Hope County felt very suddenly like it had amounted to nothing.

“The gates will be closed to you.” And then, his voice harder now: “Tell me you understand, John.”

He gripped the horse’s lead tight. For a second in time, the comedy of it all—trailing after Elliot into a stable, joining her and her friends that didn’t like him at a bar, listening to her mother expertly sliding in barbs—had been overwhelming. His life had temporarily become a rom-com, and by the season finale they’d make amends and everything would be fine.

This was a reminder that was not how things were going to go. He didn’t have the leniency to just take however long he wanted; there would be no time to make friends, even ones that looked at him and said, just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless.

Get Elliot and baby. Bring them home.

“John.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I understand, Joseph.”

“Good.” Joseph paused, and then after a moment: “And no secrets, John. I’ll know if you’re keeping something from me.”

The words washed a strange, cold sense of dread over him. For a second, John thought, have I been keeping a secret from him? Have I been lying to him about something?

Elliot had stopped a few feet away, her head tilted inquisitively. She was far enough that John thought she might not be able to hear him, but still he turned his head like he’d seen something interesting back in the parking lot when he said, “I would never do that.”

There was a little exhale on the other end of the call. “I know. You’ve always been good.”

Something frantically pleased lit up inside of him, rapidly firing the neurons in his brain. Good, they said, chanting, we’re good, we’re good, he said we’re good, Joseph thinks we’re good.

Just as John opened his mouth to reply, Joseph said, “We’ll talk soon,” and the line clicked. Call Ended, said the screen when he pulled the phone away from his ear and turned back to Elliot, who’d started making her way over to him again. Something in his chest sank a little; he quickly tucked it away, focusing his attention back on the task at hand.

You’ve always been good.

“Who was that?” Elliot asked as she came up, rubbing her hands together in the cold absently. John gestured for her to head back inside, and she did, letting him fall into step between her and the horse.

“Just a wrong number,” he replied with a little smile. “It’s a new phone. I’ve been getting them a lot.”

“Ah.” She didn’t sound convinced, but he supposed he never expected her to. “And how was your walk with Hugo and Sylvia?”

“You would be surprised to know I feel much the same as before I walked.”

Elliot’s mouth quirked up at the corners, tugged into a smile. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen that little smile on her face, but it was the first time that it didn’t feel forced, or driven by something sour or venomous.

John offered, “Sylvia has confessed she’s not fond of me.”

The redhead next to him made an inquisitive noise, though she didn’t remark on it. He imagined this was not news to her, given the way they’d been chatting when he’d come back from warming up the car the other night. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t spike a little bit of jealousy in him; that Elliot found it so easy to connect with Sylvia, even though they had history, even farther back than Eden’s Gate, if he was going to be a stickler about it. And he was. He wanted to be.

A little, he thought, maybe he was jealous that despite everything, Elliot still found some way to make a friend that defended her so fiercely.

Stupid, he thought, letting Elliot take the lead from him. It’s stupid. I have people who will protect me too. Jacob, and Joseph—

“But you already knew that,” he added after a moment, watching her. The redhead moved with a kind of surety around the horses; there were no darting eyes, no furtive glances out into the distance, searching for an invisible threat that only she could see.

“Well,” Elliot replied, “you didn’t really endear yourself to her. She met us in the middle of an argument, and then you proceeded to try and use your snake charms—”

“My what?”

“—on her, and that’s just not really her style,” she finished plainly, working to take the halter off and then sliding the stable door shut. “You don’t have all of your little cultists here to chant ‘yes’ at you whenever you please. You have to make a real effort with people.”

“I am,” John snipped out, “making a real effort.”

“Mm,” came the reply as Elliot slung the halter over her shoulder and started heading off down the hall without waiting for him.

“Elliot—”

“John,” she replied amicably. “I’m not going back and forth with you about this.”

He closed his mouth. Every single nerve-ending felt violently frayed from the onslaught; first Sylvia, then Joseph, and now Elliot. John could feel the headache blooming behind his eyes. Even though he’d felt that rush of adrenaline the second Joseph had praised him, there was still a knot in the pit of his stomach; just there, rolling tight and painful, reminding him that he still would have preferred that Jacob called instead.

Elliot returned, picking a loose piece of hay off of his shoulder and dropping it to the ground. “We going or what?”

Regarding her carefully, John said, “Only if you’re done. We’re staying however long you want.”

“Oh, are we? It’s all about what I want now?”

“It was always about what you want.”

She gave him a look. As she shrugged the heavier coat back on her shoulders, and he tugged the boots off, Elliot said, “You know how you’re always saying I need to find a new catchphrase?”

John pulled one of his shoes on. “Uh-huh.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Elliot continued. “The whole ‘I’ll give you anything you want, Elliot’ bit just doesn’t hit the same when you spent the whole time lying to me.”

“I—” He let out a frustrated breath, pulling his other shoe on. “I meant it when I said it, Elliot.”

“Fucking me,” Elliot replied, “does not amount to giving me anything I want.”

“But it is what you wanted,” John retorted.

“Among other things.”

“Among other things,” he agreed.

They stood like that for a minute, regarding each other with tight expressions and the sourness of their exchange still lingering in his mouth. John exhaled through his nose and passed a hand over his face. It was one thing to be on edge because Sylvia had come right out and said she didn’t like him; another to then follow-up with a conversation that reminded him of his existential dread; yet another to be putting up with Elliot’s vitriol.

“When I said,” he began, “that I l—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t fucking say it.”

“When I said it, I meant it,” he amended tartly. “I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, too, but I meant that.”

“Yeah?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “You didn’t mean to tell me that I’m never going to find someone that’s going to love me and all of my ugly too, is that what you’re trying to say? That whole ‘no one’s going to love you with all that red in your ledger’ bit was just a fun little jab—”

“No,” John replied evenly, feeling that petty little spike in his chest, “I meant that.”

His words seemed to catch her off-guard, immediately unseating her. The expression that crossed her face was bewildered; the animosity had fled it, and instead what replaced it was hurt—bright and blooming across her features, flushed under her skin in a gorgeous high color. It wasn’t unlike the flush in her cheeks from when she’d been frenzied by the killing of Kian, and it looked just as beautiful now, too.

John thought, I love her, just like this. Wretched and wicked and furious with me. Hurt and needing.

He had seen her in fury, in grief. Watched the remains of what happened when she sank her teeth in down to the bone, whether it was to kill or to howl in her sorrow. And he had loved her then, too.

I meant it, he thought, because no one is good enough to love you except for me.

“Well, it doesn’t fucking matter,” Elliot replied after a minute. Though her words carried with them the same cadence any other angry response would have, her voice sounded small, like he’d sucked the wind right out of her sails. “What you think, it doesn’t matter. You don’t know fuck all about me or what kind of person could love me, and—” Her lashes fluttered. “And fuck you, John.”

John watched her expression for any giveaway that he’d gotten where he wanted: inside. Before, he’d known her quite well—could gauge her anger and her grief and catch it before it exploded. Now, with the baby, things had changed a little.

“I think I’m familiar with exactly the kind of person who could love you,” he said after a moment. And then, gesturing ahead of him: “Shall we?”

The tension in her jaw tightened, flattening and flexing the muscle when she clenched her teeth. Those spiteful little eyes; he’d missed them, missed the way she’d looked at him. As of late, she’d gotten too comfortable withholding her attention from him.

Get Elliot and baby. Get home.

It was a mantra now, running its track in his head over and over until it wore a rut into his brain. As Elliot brushed past him to walk to the car, and he fell into step trailing behind her just a foot or so, he let the words sink in. He’d gotten distracted; strayed from the path—but he wouldn’t let that happen again. Joseph was right. He was good, and he would just have to make Elliot see that.

One way or another.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Staci Pratt was doing alright, all things considered.

The Veteran’s Center was empty. Had been for weeks, in fact—after a particularly tense call with Joseph, Jacob had evacuated most all of his Chosen except a select few into the bunker and locked it down. He’d grabbed his keys, looked Pratt dead in the eyes and said, “I want to see you sitting in that chair waiting for me when I get back, Peaches.”

How long was he going to be gone? That was a question that had been sitting on Pratt’s brain for the last two months.

It might have been more than that; it honestly could have been a little less, too. He had no idea. Three days after Jacob had left with his chosen, and left Pratt in the Veteran’s Center, the radio chatter had fuzzed out. Interrupted by something. A day after that, he saw strange convoys along the streets.

Well, he’d thought, Jacob did say to stay put.

So, stay put he did.

There was food, and water, and even though the snow was falling, the place stayed pretty warm. He hadn’t heard Jacob’s voice on the radio for weeks. He’d stopped checking it. He thought that since it had been so long, maybe Jacob and the others were—

“Staci,” came a sweet voice from the other room, “come here, quickly!”

Pratt pulled himself to his feet. His limbs felt heavy, but pleasantly so; like he’d been grounded to the earth, finally, at last. For a second, the floor seemed to stretch out under his feet, as far as he could see; the leaves, having blown in before the snow through then-open windows, folded and melded against his shoes. Like they were trying to be with him. What had he gotten up for again?

“Staci!” The sing-song voice came again. Dani, he thought, taking an unsteady step forward. Shit, Dani’s calling me. That’s what I got up for.

“Coming,” he managed out, taking a few steps and then catching his momentum and carrying himself into the next room over. The glossy-haired brunette was sitting with her legs tucked up at the desk, watching the security monitors avidly. Sheridan had come knocking a few days after the convoys had passed, and at the time, Staci had thought she was some kind of test—after all, Jacob had said to stay put. Sitting in that chair, waiting for me when I get back. That’s what he’d said. Getting up for a pretty girl at the door was directly disobeying him.

But he’d let her in, because she smelled good and smiled at him with pearly teeth and a cute accent he couldn’t place, and asked if he had room for her in the building, and said things like, You can call me Dani, if you want!

That was what—four weeks ago? Maybe more? She’d made herself at home, explained she’d gotten lost from her family and that she’d been worried because she saw strangers with guns running around. She had food, and water, and warm clothes, and—

Drugs. The “herbal” kind. It will open you to the influence, Dani had told him, giggling when he blinked owlishly at her. Brings you closer to the earth, Staci. It feels nice, I promise. Pratt thought it might have been Bliss, at first, but it was different; it didn’t jar him on his way down, the crash felt so much gentler, and Dani offered it to him to use whenever he wanted, and he just wanted to feel. Good. For a little while. That’s all. Just a tiny while.

It wasn’t hard, to feel good around Dani. It was like he’d spent all that time in constant fear and stress, listening to Jacob tallying body counts from Elliot. Sometimes the redhead would suck his teeth and say, what the fuck is my brother doing with that girl? and shake his head, and the idea that Jacob Seed wanted to turn Elliot into a perfect killer had washed him with a cold, ferocious dread.

Then, Jacob had left. No more body counts. No more radio calls, listening to the redhead’s urgent voice from the other side of the door. A tiny while had turned into four weeks, and now he was here: stumbling his way into the security room where she was curled up. Somewhere in the distance, a little alarm bell went off in his head. Jacob would be so mad, that alarm bell said. He would be so mad, so fucking mad, so so so mad.

But the thought was a small voice, easily washed out by Dani’s blinding smile when he got close.

“You remember I was telling you about my family?” she asked. She was tearing tiny bites off of a piece of fruit leather; Pratt reached blindly around in one of the drawers and pulled out a bag of beef jerky.

“Yeah, you said they’d be looking for you,” Pratt replied. That was weeks ago, he thought to add, but did not. “Did you find—?”

His eyes fixed on the screen. It was a stranger there, on the screen—which was to be expected—but she didn’t look like Dani. Not at all. They looked to be the same age only, but the woman on the screen had short-cropped, light-colored hair, and she was swathed in dark fabrics high up to her throat.

“That is my sister,” Dani told him excitedly.

“No way,” Pratt said, blinking at the screen. The woman on the screen was obviously not related to Dani by blood. He watched her move, wraithlike, a ghost skimming along the side path up to the F.A.N.G. center—one of the only places Jacob had left some of his Chosen out and about.

Oh, no, he thought suddenly. Oh fuck, this is bad. Oh fuck, Dani’s gonna watch her sister get killed, holy shit—

“We have to stop her,” he blurted out, starting to fumble around for one of the radio’s batteries—he was sure he could charge it up enough, he was sure, he was sure, slamming the walkie talkie on to the charger he’d conveniently left off because he didn’t want Jacob calling for him—when he saw the flicker of one of the Chosen coming out around one of the building’s corners, suspicious. “Um—that guy, he’s—”

“Shh, shshsh,” Dani said, waving her hand at him and watching the screen. “Do not be so noisy. I am watching.”

“Dani, you don’t understand,” Pratt tried again, more urgently, “that man is going to—”

The brunette made a sharp little noise, a quick tst, and planted a bit of fruit leather in her mouth, knee tucked up against her chest. It was like she was watching a movie. It was like—

Oh, God, Pratt thought, swallowing thickly as the figure of Dani’s “sister” came scooting around the corner behind the Chosen. She was going to get killed. She was going to get fucking murdered, right there on screen, in front of this nice young woman who’d been nothing but kind to him, and he was going to have to explain to her what it was he’d watched Jacob do and—

Something sleek and metal glinted on the video feed. Dani’s sister was not sneaking, anymore, but grabbed the chosen’s shoulder with one hand and drove the point of her blade straight into the junction of his shoulder and neck.

It was hard to make out expressions on the screen, details and nuances, but there was one thing clear from the woman’s body language: she was not troubled, fighting for her life, and she had done this before.

“Dani,” Pratt whispered, feeling his stomach lurch when the knife was pulled out of the Chosen’s neck, arterial spray coloring the ground in black and white on the computer screen. “Dani, what is—”

“You are going to miss it,” Dani told him, shooting him an annoyed look.

“Miss what?” he croaked. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see whatever it was Dani was afraid of him missing. The only thing he wanted was—

But she reached up, snagging his hand and squeezing it absently. She had been doing that sort of thing a lot—touching. She’d bring his hand to her pulse so that they could breathe in tandem, touch their foreheads like she was checking him for a fever, take his hand while she walked through the halls and looked around. Another thing Jacob would be furious about, if he found out.

When he found out.

Dani’s hand offered him little comfort now, though. She leaned in to the screen a little and murmured, something in a thick, rolling language that Pratt couldn’t quite make out, and said, “Oh, how many people do you think are there?”

“I don’t know,” he said, fixing his eyes back on the screen. “I don’t know, a lot, Dani, there’s probably a lot—”

There were a lot. There were a lot of them, crawling around the F.A.N.G. center, and he watched Dani; watched her watching the screen as her sister—“sister”—dispatched each one of them with distinct, violent ease. Like it was a dance. One, two, three, waltzing as she picked up whatever she could find and used it to incur blunt force trauma.

Blood, everywhere. Viscera when she shot both kneecaps of one out. Spray when she pushed yet another’s face into a broken plank of wood, falling off of the side of the building. The picture was in black and white, but even still, Pratt could see it: red, everywhere. Red in the snow. Red on her hands. Red on their faces, on their clothes, on her knife on the gun because she twisted it out of one of their hands and pushed it into his mouth and fired, insides painting the wall of the building behind him.

So. Much. Blood.

“What—” Pratt swallowed, his mouth dry as sandpaper. Suddenly, feeling like the world was a conveyor belt under his feet didn’t sit so well anymore. “What is—?”

“This is the important part,” Dani told him. “You have to watch her. Återfödelse.”

“What does—”

“Shh.”

He watched. He watched, and he wished that he hadn’t, because the woman on the screen shrugged out of her coat, pulled some black latex gloves out of her pocket, and snapped them on.

And then, she gutted them.

Like fish.

Stripped their shirts and jackets off. Cut them from the hollows of their throats down to the tops of their jeans—which she had enough generosity to leave on them—and then scooped their insides out like a butcher at home in her own work shop. Scooped them, dumped them, sat them up against the wall of the building. The woman moved with the unhurried but thorough, single-minded pace of a woman determined to finish her plate and lick it clean.

He was going to be sick. He was going to be fucking sick. He pushed the forgotten bag of beef jerky onto the countertop beside the computer. Dani must have thought he was offering it to her, because though she was fully engrossed in her sister’s work, she said sweetly, “Oh, no thank you. I am vegetarian.”

Pratt pulled away from the computer screen and the chair where Sheridan sat, admiring the bloody gore being laid out before her. The world pushed and pulled in his vision in time with his rapidly increasing heartbeat; he stumbled into the next room, reaching blindly out of muscle memory alone before his fingers found the edge of the trash can and he could bend over and throw up whatever was in his stomach.

He was wrong. This was worse than Bliss—Bliss was one kind of trip, and you knew immediately what it was going to be from the start. But this? This was a fucking nightmare. Each time he closed his eyes he kept seeing them, Jacob’s Chosen, entrails scattered in the snow and jaws lax and ribcages split open.

Fuck, he thought, breathing over the trash can as another wave of nausea hit him. Fuck fuck fuck, fuck fuck—

“Oh, Staci,” came Dani’s sugared voice, teeming with pure, unadulterated sympathy, rippling bright pink and blinding in his vision. How long had he been knelt over the trash can like this? “Are you feeling unwell? It can be a lot, you know. The first time you see it.”

“There—” Pratt lifted his head weakly, looking at the girl who’d happened to wander in here, just after he’d seen those glossy gray vans patrolling the area. Separated from my family, she’d said. “It happens more?”

His words came out in a wail, pitching almost into hysterical. Dani clicked her tongue, smoothing the hair back from his forehead in a gesture that was supposed to comfort him.

“Of course it does,” she told him, crouching beside him, bringing his hand up to her cheek. “Återfödelse. Rebirth. It will happen to us all. If we are lucky, Helmi will be the one who does it for us.”

The last thing he wanted was for that woman—Helmi—to do anything for him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, the exhaustion of his adrenaline and the crash of his high digging straight into his skeleton.

I have to get the fuck out of here, he thought. I have to get out of here and tell—tell the others—tell Jerome and Hudson and Elliot and—

“It is okay,” Dani murmured, planting her hand on the back of his neck and giving it a little squeeze. “She knows I am here. That was good thinking, to get the radio all charged up.”

It took every ounce of his strength not to moan in misery at that. The brunette smiled at him, radiantly and with pearly teeth, and he was suddenly filled with dread at the idea that there may be someone out there worse than the Seeds.

“You should lay down, get some rest,” she suggested gently. Coming to a stand, Dani glanced back at the monitors, and then back at him, lips still quirked in that pleasant little smile.

“You will want to be at full speed when she gets here.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Things in the car were uncomfortable. That is to say, Elliot was still nursing whatever wound his honesty had given her, and regarding him warily out of the corner of her eye every time he attempted to strike up conversation with her.

I’m not going to apologize, John thought resolutely, between the stop at the pharmacy and the house. I meant it. I’m not going to apologize for something I meant. And mean. I know I’m the only one meant for—

“What is going on?” he asked, slowing to a crawl when he came to the turn up the Honeysett’s driveway. It was packed with cars—lining the parking area in a little cluster. The redhead beside him let out a frustrated, agonized little moan, burying her face into her hands.

“It’s Tuesday,” Elliot replied tartly.

“Okay, and?”

“Tuesday’s the day mama has all of her debutante friends over.” She shifted in the passenger seat, gesturing with her hand. “Well, you gonna park or what?”

John’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Great. An audience, a crowd, for the impenetrable, unshakeable tension sitting just there, right between them. But even now, it was a relief; all of those weeks spent without her had reminded him that even when things hadn’t been the most ideal, when they’d been fighting constantly, at least it had been something. As long as she wasn’t acting like he didn’t exist.

“Can’t wait,” is what he said, pulling the Jeep down the long drive and parking it where no one would need to have him move it later. Through the glass, he could see gauzy shapes milling about, drenched in amber light; Southern women, hair curled and faces powdered and the flowy fabrics of their loose-fitted (and yet, somehow still miraculously tailored) clothes, martini glasses in hand.

Elliot said, “Stepford housewife does seem on-brand for you.”

He shot her a dry look. “I prefer my women with a bit more bite to them.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

So, it was going to go great, then.

As he made his way up the steps, Elliot paused, turning and looking at him before they could reach the door. He looked at her expectantly; eyebrows lifted.

“I don’t have to tell you to behave,” she began.

“No, you don’t.”

“But I will anyway.” Elliot’s hand rested on the doorknob. “These women are nicer than mama. They’ll want to know all about you, ask you tons of questions—I need you to give them vanilla answers. The most vanilla. You’ve gotta be as unthreatening as a wafer, John.”

Still recovering from the pleasant swoon of hearing the words I need you come out of Elliot’s mouth, John said, “Scout’s honor, Ell.”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. Loose wisps of ginger hair tumbled out of the half-pony she’d slung her hair in, and her eyes darted—unsure, wetting her lips, like there was something that she wanted to say to him but she didn’t quite trust herself to.

“I’m—” She stopped.

“They’re going to wonder why we’re standing out here.”

“I’m trusting you,” Elliot bit out. The words were almost as sweet as I need you, he thought. “Trusting you not to...take advantage of the fact that I may or may not have omitted important information about what was going on back home. I would really like it, John, if we could get through this evening without my life coming apart.”

The urge to reach up and brush the hair from her face, cup her cheek—it burned in his fingertips, itching. But he kept his hand at his side and said, mood instantly elated by the idea that Elliot needed something from him, “No nuclear bombs dropping tonight, my love.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We get in and we get out, no casualties.”

“Just like old times,” John agreed. “Sans the ‘no casualties’ bit, of course.”

Elliot’s mouth twisted. He thought she might have been trying to stop herself from smiling, but the expression was wiped so quickly from her face that he didn’t have any time to dwell on it too long before she opened the front door and he was hit with a blast of heat and floral perfume.

Oh, yeah, he thought, stepping inside after Elliot to the sound of bright, vibrant chatter cascading over soft music playing in the background, that’s debutantes.

“Is that Elliot?” exclaimed one woman, perhaps a few years older than Scarlet, coming to a stand and setting her glass to the side as she hurried over to wrap Elliot in a hug. “My goodness, look at you. You dyed your hair, didn’t you? I love it, it’s beautiful, sugar.”

“You’re home late,” Scarlet remarked as Elliot shrugged out of her jacket, perched on the couch. Boomer had come racing down the stairs at the sound of someone’s arrival, little feet tapping excitedly against the carpet as he begged for Elliot’s attention.

“We had to make a stop, mama. And—thank you,” Ell replied, clearing her throat, returning the embrace for a second before she pulled away. The interaction was an interesting one to watch—and gave him, perhaps, more insight into the dynamic between Scarlet and Elliot than his wife would have wanted. After all, it wasn’t Scarlet getting up to embrace her pregnant daughter after not knowing where she was all day.

Elliot turned and gestured to John with a smile that looked more like a grimace. Her hands had gone to Boomer, though, rubbing his ears—more for her benefit than his, it seemed. “Delia, this is—um, John. John, this is Delia, she’s—kinda like my aunt.”

The woman, Delia, turned bright eyes on him. “Well, um John, isn’t it nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, hugging him tight and filling his senses with perfume and chiffon.

“Pleasure,” John replied, beaming, “is all mine, I assure you, kinda Aunt Delia.”

She’d been right, of course. All of the women in the room regarded the two of them with nothing short of warmth, glowing curiosity—certainly, they gossiped, but nothing quite as scathing as Scarlet Honeysett’s own impression of him and even, to an extent, Elliot. For the most part, the matriarch’s disdain of him was carefully bottled, though she made no move to greet him or show him off like a mother-in-law ought to.

“John is Elliot’s husband,” Scarlet said lightly from the couch, where the other women made various noises of feigned excitement and disappointment alike. He could about hear Elliot wanting to crumple in on herself.

Delia left one hand on John’s shoulder, the other affectionately twisting one of Elliot’s coppery curls and letting it fall to the side. “Dyed hair, married—honey, is there somethin’ you haven’t been up to? And what about a weddin’?”

John had never seen Ell turn into such a shrinking violet before. She blinked owlishly at the women—even the one she claimed close enough to be her Aunt—and shifted on her feet.

“We didn’t really think about it,” Ell managed out shyly, cheeks flaring pink. “And no, I haven’t, but—well, except—”

Painful. It was painful, how much she was suffering through this. “It was an unconventional thing,” he supplied easily, flashing a charming smile. “We thought about maybe having a nice reception, but we’re just not in a rush right now. Can’t do anything nice in the middle of winter, after all.”

Instant relief flooded Elliot’s face. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“Finally,” Delia hummed, “a man who has some taste. You know, Scarlet, my boy’s been trying to find indoor places to have his weddin’. I asked him, what, does he think folks want to be sweatin’ like a sinner in church the second they step foot in there? It’s no less than—come here, John, honey, you can sit with me—no less than two hundred guests, and...”

John let Delia manhandle him into a chair nearby the fireplace. It had been quite a blow to his ego to have Scarlet regarding him with so much disgust, like he wasn’t even worth her time of day; even now, when his mother-in-law came to a stand, beckoning Elliot into the kitchen with a single elegant hand into the kitchen, she barely spared him a glance. Like he was nothing.

That’s where she gets it from, he thought dryly. Honeysett women.

“John, you ever been to one of Scarlet’s Christmas parties, honey?” Delia asked him, jarring him out of his thoughts. He planted a polite smile on his face.

“Unfortunately, I’ve not had the opportunity,” he replied lightly. This was easy—older women, dying to know more about him? Easy as pie. “Christmas is next week, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Delia replied, patting his hand. “You’ll have to come. I mean, of course you’ll come—Elliot will be there. Where are you staying? Scarlet didn’t put you up in a motel, did she? I’ll tell you what, I hear the most awful stories about that place. In fact, just the other day, Justine Adler was telling me...”

The woman launched into another bustle of gossip, busying herself with pouring a drink which was then promptly planted in John’s hand. Somewhere close to halfway into that, Scarlet and Elliot returned, the older woman resuming her spot at the center of the couch and Elliot sitting herself on the ground beside him, back to the fireplace.

He leaned over, as the women burst into glittering laughter, and said, “Wanted to sit by me instead of your mother, huh?”

“She told me to pretend like we like each other,” Elliot muttered back. “What are you drinking?”

John flashed her a grin. “Delia made it for me.”

“Elli,” Delia said sweetly from the chair, “do you want somethin’ to drink, too?”

Elliot flushed. “No thank you, ma’am. I’m alright.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

The conversation resumed, and John let a few beats go by before he leaned to the side again; this time, he pitched his voice lower, and he saw Elliot tuck the hair behind her ear. “I like when your accent comes out,” he told her, turning his head to look at her, and she did the same at the same time, putting them almost nose to nose. “It’s cute.”

“You’re on thin ice, buddy,” she replied, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t forgotten what you said.”

“I’m counting on that elephant’s memory of yours, Elli.”

“John, are you fixing to get glassed or what?”

He couldn’t stop the grin from hitting his face again. She had to behave here—she couldn’t kick up a bit fuss about it. But even when she asked him if he was trying to get his face bashed in, a little bit of wry amusement bled into her voice, like muscle memory demanded the jab be more playful than threatening.

“I’ll drink to your health,” John added amenably, “and merciful nature.”

She squinted at him, the corner of her mouth twisting into something close to a smile.

“Sure, John,” she replied. “You’ll need all the help you can get on that front, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time the last lady had left and the glasses and plates were cleaned up, night had fallen deep and dark over the Graves (Honeysett) home. Elliot thought she’d never been more tired her entire life than she had been sitting through that little gathering, listening to the women ply John with questions about what he did and what he was doing, and how did they meet, and wasn’t he just so happy to be down here in Weyfield? Wasn’t he so pleased to have Scarlet as a mother-in-law?

To his credit, John upheld his promise to behave. He took only one alcoholic drink from Delia and spent the rest of the time sipping it, engaging more freely with the other women than she’d seen him do with her own mother or even Sylvia—likely because they had no reason to dislike him. On a surface level, John Seed was a very charismatic man. Charming. Thoughtful. Perceptive. He laughed and he made the ladies laugh, and even her mother seemed a little pleased; not without her carefully placed jabs, but for a second in time, Elliot felt less like she was going crazy and more like a normal girl. A real girl.

It made her think about the night she’d first met him, almost two years ago now, and the way he’d looked at her and said, a lot can happen in a week, beautiful. She’d been a fucking fool back then, and in a lot of ways, Elliot thought she still was a fool—but at least she was on the defense. At least she felt comfortable with the idea that her baby might never know John, in any capacity.

She was ready to cut and run, if needed.

And why haven’t you? Something inside of her asked, as she moved up the steps and stopped at her bedroom door. Why haven’t you cut and run already?

“Elliot?” John turned to look at her, pausing when she did. His eyes were inquisitive. No, not inquisitive—prying. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in my bed?”

Lonely, another part of her replied. We haven’t cut and run because we’re lonely.

“I’m sure,” she said after a second. “Nice try, though.”

“You’re still mad,” he said, his voice rumbling teasingly. His eyes darted over her, lingering on her mouth before fixing on her eyes. “Didn’t I do good? Just what you asked?”

“You—did,” Elliot allowed after a moment. It was true. “But of course I’m still mad, you fucking idiot. You told me no one was ever going to love me, and that you meant it.”

John sighed. There was a brief moment where he neither said nor did anything, but after a second he reached up and swept the hair from her shoulder. The gesture made her skin prickle; anticipation curled at the base of her spine and began its stretch, luxurious and leisurely, up to her neck. Tight, tingling anticipation, when his fingers brushed the side of her neck.

Push him away, she thought.

“I do mean it,” he said, “because, I don’t think—”

Push his hand off of you.

“—anyone else is going to love you—”

He was closer now, much closer than before, like she’d blinked and suddenly he was there, in her space. Elliot felt her lashes flutter; the smell of his cologne washed over her, drowning out all of the alarm bells in her head, speaking to a creature inside of her that craved comfort.

“—the way that I can love you.”

John’s forehead brushed hers. So close, too close—but she thought about waking up this morning and the way he’d put his hand just there, in the same place, the way he’d murmured concernedly, you said you’ve been sleeping fine.

“Ell.” His voice was pitched soft, low, something safe and warm and just between them, his fingers threading into the hair at the base of her skull, and now their noses brushed, and John had crowded her up gently against the doorframe, just the way that he knew she liked. “I want to kiss you.”

Elliot’s throat felt tight. I want to kiss you too, that wretched, sad little thing inside of her said, but instead she thought of something else—she thought about John, holding her under the water, and John, saying enough of that sad little whimpering, deputy, you’re pulling on my heartstrings, and John, spitting mad, telling her he was never ever going to take her back even though no one was going to love her because of the things she’d done.

“Can’t,” she managed out, her voice hoarse. “You can’t.”

John exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting like he was trying to stop himself—from saying something, doing something that he wanted to do very much but would regret later. It took a second, but once she gathered herself, she reached up and gripped his wrist with her hand, applying just a little pressure—and that was all it took for him to drop his hand from her neck.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. It sounded more like a way to console himself rather than an answer to her. He passed a hand through his hair.

“We can’t.”

“Okay, alright. No kissing.” He lifted his hands in a show of innocence. “You’re the boss.” The brunette’s eyes glided over her face for a moment, almost ruefully, before he stepped back and started heading down the hall. “Goodnight, Elliot.”

She stayed put, up against the doorframe to her bedroom, fingers curled into fists. Everything in her felt like it was burning—rioting, that she had denied herself something that might give her some temporary relief, some temporary pleasure.

But it wasn’t just about her, anymore.

“John,” she said, waiting until he turned to look at her. “Why are you even here?”

He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she continued, hating the little tremble in her voice, “did you come here because you wanted to be with the baby and I, or did you come here because you were mad we left?”

Elliot watched the muscle of his jaw tense and tighten, flexing as he tried to come up with an answer. And he was, having to come up with one, because he was doing that thing where he wanted to say something that was true to him and would make her happy.

And she didn’t want that. She just wanted him to be honest.

“Alright, good talk.”

“Elliot, listen,” he started, and she stepped into her bedroom, shaking her head.

“Goodnight, John.”

She closed the door behind her, pleased to not hear any follow-up knocks on her door or John’s voice coming through the wood. It was five minutes of waiting before she finally dragged herself into her pajamas, put a sleeping pill in her mouth, and crawled into bed with Boomer curled into her knees.

That’s okay, Elliot thought tiredly, shifting and closing her eyes. That’s alright. It can be just you and I, baby.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Staci?”

Roused from his sleep, Pratt lifted his head. When had he fallen asleep? How long had he been sleeping? He struggled to a sitting position, clearing his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly to try and get them to focus. It was Dani’s face that came into view, then, her hair slung up in a ponytail and her nose scrunching up in an amused little smile.

“Good morning. You must have been exhausted, you slept for so long,” she teased him, and for a second he felt relief flood over him. It had been a dream. It had all been an awful dream. Now, more than ever, he was sure that he needed to get to the Resistance—take Dani with him and get out of this fucking nightmare of a building. Yeah. Then he’d feel better.

“Yeah, I must have been,” he said a little sheepishly, his voice rough from sleep. “Hey, d’you think we could—”

“Is he finally awake?”

The voice that came from the other room filtered straight into his brain, crisp and sharp and distinctly un-accented. The sound of footsteps echoed across the tile before an unfamiliar woman filled up the doorway, leaning one shoulder against it and regarding him with dark, scrutinizing eyes.

No. Not unfamiliar. Very familiar, painfully familiar, disgustingly, awfully—

“Yes, Helmi,” Dani replied warmly, “he is awake. It was his first time seeing Återfödelse.”

The woman, dark and swathed in fabric up to her throat, swept her eyes over him. “Dani told me you puked.”

“I-I-” Pratt tried to function through the panic in his brain, rioting bells going off nonstop. Helmi had washed herself of any blood, that did nothing to erase the image of her driving a man’s face into a splintered plank until he was skewered on it, or the way she had methodically emptied out Jacob’s own chosen and propped them up.

To get found. To send a message.

“You?” Helmi prompted, her voice flinty. “You what, boy?”

“He is still coming down,” Dani said, pouting her lips. She no longer struck him as affectionate on an equal level, but instead gave him the distinct feeling of a girl fawning over a cute animal. An animal she thought was also stupid.

“Why do you think he’s been holed up in the big one’s base of operations? He’s their lap dog,” the blonde bit out. She took a few steps over, leaning down—she was tall, but dextrous, her mouth curving in a smile that was distinctly threatening. She reached up, and when Pratt felt his body flinch, she grabbed his chin. “Aren’t you, doggy?”

“I-I’m not!” he said quickly, jerking his face out of her grip. “I’m not, I swear, I don’t even like the Seeds, I swear I don’t, Jacob was keeping me here and then he got everyone in the bunker and—”

“Wait,” Helmi said, eyes narrowing. “You know where the bunker is?”

“Yes!” Pratt said quickly. His eyes darted between Helmi and Dani, nervous. “I do, I know where it is, but—but no one can get in without Jacob now. Everyone in there is locked down until h-he gets back.”

“I told you,” Dani said to Helmi eagerly. “I told you he was helpful, Helmi.”

Helmi sucked her teeth, giving him one last scathing once-over before she planted a pleasant smile on her face.

“Come on, doggy,” she said, grabbing Staci’s shirt collar and hauling him to his feet. “You and I are going to make a little trip. And—”

She paused, thoughtful, even as Pratt scrabbled to push her hands off of him. They made his skin crawl—long and elegant, but he had seen what they could do. What they had done. Helmi shoved the walkie into his hands, as well as a heavy coat.

“Why don’t you tell me everything you know about our friends the Seeds on the way there?”

#fic: witching hour #john seed x female deputy #my writing #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #ch: helmi #ch: sheridan stark #ch: staci pratt #i have sated my desire for blood and now we can get back to getting these two idiots to fucking kiss already #far cry 5 fic #far cry 5 oc #john seed/female deputy #fc5 oc

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wreckofawriter · 5 years

Text

Pencil Sketches

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader

Warnings: Ummm none fluffy

Word Count: 2,738

Summary: You start receiving sketches of yourself and find out who the artist is in a very surprising way.

A/n: Hi this is my first Cedric fic. I dont exactly love it buuuut whatever.

You remember when it all started. It was four months ago. You had just had a particularly hard day, you were late to Charms and got 5 points taken from your house, you spilled ink all over your positions essay, you got pumpkin juice on your blouse and forgot about a very difficult quiz in DADA. You were heading to the back of the library to choose a book when something fell out of the large amounts of papers you were holding. You groaned bending down to pick it up as you did you glance at the contents of the page and your heart stopped.

It took you only a second to figure out what was on the paper. It was you. You were glaring down at a notebook, your eyes appearing to shine as you clutched a quill in your right hand. Your hair hanging in front of your frustrated face, your lips drawn into a thin line. It was the best drawing you had ever seen, for a second you thought it was a photograph. But it was a drawing, a drawing of you, a drawing of you that looked so realistic it almost scared you. The pencil marks were flowing yet sharp, shading was done in just the right places to give your face depth. It was like looking in a black and white mirror.

You stood in the middle of the hallway for what must have been a good five minutes just staring at the photo in amazement. You then realized what you were doing and continued to the library.

From there the drawings became a normal part of your life. You would usually receive five to six a week in your bag, waiting at your desk or even in your dorm room. You had no idea how they managed to swing that. Each one was more beautiful than the last and you swear that they made you look much prettier in the drawing than you really were. Most were done in pencil a few in quill and one in charcoal. Each one seemed to be a different mood, sometimes you would be scowling, sometimes smirking, sometimes smiling and one was even of you with your head down on a desk your eyes closed and your hair hanging in your face. The ones you received the most were ones of you laughing. Your lips split open in a smile and your eyes crinkled or just shut altogether.

Many times you had tried to find the artist who had drawn you without luck. They never left any notes or indications and it made it extremely difficult to find the culprit. You wished for nothing more than to meet and thank the person who had brought so much happiness into your life with their artwork. But they never revealed themselves even after four months, nothing. You began to worry, what if they never revealed themselves? It was your last year after all, you would be leaving in a few months. Eventually, you stopped looking and simply hoped they would reveal themselves.

“Ms. Y/l/n,” McGonagall called to you.

“Yes, Professor?” You asked your arms full of books as you made your way back to your common room.

“Could you please follow me? I have something we need to discuss.” She clipped, beckoning for you to follow her.

Your eyebrows scrunched together in momentary confusion before following the orders you had been given.

As you followed McGonagall through the castle you wracked your brain for what you could have possibly done wrong. Did they think you cheated on an exam? Did they find your stash of food in your dorm? Surely that wasn't that big of a deal. Then you remembered the bottle of firewhiskey under your bed and fear rose in your throat. What if they expelled you? What would you do? Your heart pounding you were lead into a room expecting all of hell to rain upon you, but when it opened you were greeted by Dumbledore's warm smile.

“Ahh Y/n, looks as if the last of you have arrived.”

You glanced around the room and easily recognized two-thirds of the famous fourth-year trio and a young girl you didn't recognize.

McGonagall went to talk to Dumbledore as you made your way over to Ron and Hermione.

“Umm do you guys know what going on?” You asked as you approached them.

“Not a clue,” Hermione responded with as she glanced around the room as if looking for clues on their current situation.

“Are we in trouble or something?” You inquired.

Ron snorted, “As if Hermione would ever get in trouble.” he jeered earning a glare from the bushy-haired girl.

“I think it has something to do with the next task.” Hermione guessed.

“Then why am I here?” you wondered.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer but she was cut off by Dumbledore.

“I assume all of you are wondering what is happening, well as Mrs. Granger pointed out it does have something to do with the task tomorrow.”

Everyone else seemed very excited you, on the other hand, were very confused, what did the next task have to do with you?

“Tomorrow morning your friends are going to have to rescue something of great importance to them from the bottom of the black lake. You, my friends, are those things.”

Hermione gasped. Ron raised both his eyebrows and the girl seemed a bit frightened.

“You will be put under a spell and not remember a thing until you break the surface again. I promise all of you will be fine. So if you could just take som-”

“Umm excuse me?” You asked cutting off your professor, “Why am I here?” His eyebrows raised in confusion. “I mean I get the whole rescuing someone that is important to them thing, I mean Hermione for Krum.” Hermione flashed red and Ron rolled his eyes. “Ron for Harry and I guessing she's Fleur’s little sister or something?” You said gesturing to the young girl, “I just don't get why I'm here.”

Now Dumbledore's face was filled with amusement, a small smile on his lips. “You don't know?” he asked.

“Know what?”

He started to laugh, “For such a bright girl I expected you had already found out.”

You were beginning to feel stupid, “Found out what?”

“Have you been receiving drawings for the past few months?” He mused glancing at Mcgonagall who also seemed amused.

“Y-yeah, wait how do you know about those?”

“It's impossible to miss,” Mcgonagall said sweetly, “Cedric is constantly pouring over as sketchbook in his classes, particularly the ones you are in, Ms. Y/l/n.”

You heard Hermione let out a giggle as your face flashed a brilliant red. Your head was spinning. Cedric was the one who was giving those to you? The golden boy of Hogwarts was spending his time sketching you?

“Cedric is the one drawing me?” You managed to get from your mouth, the sentence came out squeaker than you would have liked but at least you managed it.

“Yes Y/n, I'm quite surprised you hadn't noticed the boys admiration in you.” Dumbledore smiled as your eyes got impossibly bigger and your stomach began to fill with butterflies. “Now we don't want to waste much more time." He sighed, “Take some of this, it will put you straight to sleep, although I must warn you it tastes terrible.” He passed each of you a bottle full of a deep purple liquid.

You downed it quickly and almost immediately your world grew dark.

Cedric had grown exceedingly nervous as he stood on the docks in the middle of the lake. While the others around him seemed to be scared of what lurked in the dark of the lake he was concerned at where you were. He hadn’t seen you at breakfast, where he was planning to slip his newest drawing into your bag and now he couldn't find you here either. What if you were sick? Where you ok? Had you gotten hurt? He silently shamed himself for caring so much for a person who didn't even know he existed but he couldn't help it. He had tried to stop caring about you, but fate seemed to work against him as all he could do was see you no matter where he looked. It was as if you had been placed behind a glass case in a bakery, with a price tag much too high. So all he could do was look and wonder how your lips would taste against his own.

Finally, he gave up looking for you and looked at the challenge ahead of him. If you weren't here he wanted to make sure you heard from everyone else how he had won. Determination took over his features, he had a plan and he just hoped the others were less prepared than he. Just then the horn was blown and he dove into the water quickly casting a bubble charm around his head and begging to swim into the depths of the lake. He quickly located the singing he remembered form the terrible egg he had gotten and swum toward it. He almost choked when he saw what was waiting for him. You. Your ankles were tied with rope and your beautiful y/e/c eyes resting closed as your y/h/c hair floating in the water. The others tied around you suddenly meant nothing as he stared at you. He thought you resembled an angel floating in the water, all you were missing were wings. He then remembered he was in composition and swam towards you at a quickened rate. He thought for a minute, inspecting the rope holding you before muttering a spell. As the bounds broke he snatched you and began to swim upwards. He then saw Harry come into view, he nodded at him and continued upward.

Your eyes popped open and you found yourself gasping for air as you coughed up water. The first thing you noticed was how cold you were, everything thing was cold except an arm swimming you towards the dock. You looked up to see Cedric dragging you towards the dock his face full of worry. He glanced over at you and smiled and blushed.

“Are you alright?” He asked over the cheering of the crowd. You nodded still coughing.

When you reached the ladder you were helped up and quickly wrapped in a wool blanket as you continued coughing tiring to get the water out of your system, finally you were able to intake air and breathe normally and you saw that you were on a dock in the middle of the lake but you could hardly see anything over the crowd of people swarming you, well more swarming Cedric. You then realized that Cedric had his arm securely wrapped around you as he maneuvered you through the crowds and your face flushed red. Cedric led you to an empty bench overlooking the lake on the platform getting congratulated all the way. When you sat down he pulled you close to him in attempts to warm your shivering your form. You instantly leaned into his warm body, looking up at him to meet his grey eyes. He blushed bright red and looked away from you. Just then the crowd erupted into cheers and you looked up to see Krum emerge, Hermione, gasping for breath as she appeared to shriek a bit at his shark head before he quickly changed back.

“I hope Harry’s alright.” You murmured as you peered into the water.

“I'm sure he's fine, I saw him when I was getting you.” Cedric blushed a bit when he mentioned you.

“Did you see Krum?”

“Uhh no, I didn't,” Cedric answered.

“Why is he up here before him?” You questioned worriedly, your eyes scanned for the young boy in the water. You didn't know Harry well but you wished for no harm to come to him.

“I don't know.” Cedric seemed just as confused as you.

You both waited for Harry to show up as the minutes ticked down. Then suddenly you gasped. In all the excitement you had completely forgotten that Cedric was revealed as the mysterious artist.

“What is it?” The grey-eyed boy asked you.

You turned and looked at him. There was no denying that he was absolutely stunning. He was beyond handsome with his sharp features and kind eyes. You saw him blush a bit as you took in his profile, which only made him more attractive. But not only was he gorgeous he was amazingly kind, talented and smart. You opened your mouth to confess your knowledge on the portraits he had drawn of you. But you were interrupted by shouting and yelling and you both turned away from each other to see Harry emerging from the water, with not only Ron, but the young blonde haired girl as well. You sighed in relief and looked back at Cedric who was already staring at you. He blushed for the 1000th time when you met his grey orbs and looked away again. Then he turned back to look at you with something new in his eyes, determination.

“Hey Y/n I need to tell you something.” He said his voice a bit louder than it had been before.

“Sure what's up?” You asked.

“You probably have already realized this but clearly you mean a lot to me, I mean with the whole rescuing you think that was probably obvious but umm,” He paused then continued, “Imtheonewhosebeengivingyouthedrawings” He said quickly his face burning a deep shade of crimson.

If you had not already known what he was going to say you would have been thoroughly confused, but because of your recent discoverings, you had managed to gather about what he said.

“I know.” You answered simply.

“Oh ok- wait, WHAT?” He said his eyes wide his face getting impossibly redder.

You giggled rolling your eyes playfully.

“For how long?” he gasped.

“Umm, it's almost noon so about, I'll say 14 hours?” You guessed.

He blinked rapidly then smacked his forehead with his hand. “Of course you know, they probably told you before they put you in the lake.” He said clearly feeling very stupid.

“They're amazing by the way.” You complemented, “Although I'm pretty sure you make me look much better in the drawings than I am in person.” You giggled.

He looked at you and scoffed, “Are you kidding.” He murmured running his thumb along your jawline. “The most talented artist in the world couldn’t do your beauty justice.”

You flashed a deep red as you felt your stomach erupt with butterflies once more. You bit your lip, the exact place his eyes lingered.

He leaned in millimeters from your lips, “May I kiss you?” He asked his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

You simply closed the space between the two of you in an answer. His lips were warm against your cool ones and your hands found your way to his damp hair. The kiss was sweet and passionate, his lips moved slowly against your own making you swoon. As you pulled away you were for the second time in the past hour gasping for air.

“I have something for you.” He whispered turning to grab a bag next to him. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to you.

You couldn't help the small smile on your face as he looked at his newest drawing. You had your head thrown back your eyes closed and a smile wide on your face, it was clear you were laughing.

“I always loved drawing you laughing.” He said shyly.

“I still don't understand how you are so good.” You said in amazement.

“Thanks.” He blushed

“No, thank you. Thank you so much for all of these. They made my day so much better.” You said, “Just looking at them made me happy.”

Now as you looked at them you felt your world fall apart. Sobs wrecked your body as you stared at the drawings you had saved. You couldn't think, your head throbbed and you felt like you were falling into a deep dark pit but you could never hit the bottom. Your tears soaked the picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter and you were sure you would never laugh again.

Masterlist

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buckysmischief · 4 years

Text

wish you were here, part 1

Scott Lang x reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Falling in love with someone who lives one the other side of the country is a bitch, but can you make it work?

Warnings: language, long distance, a little angst, fluff

Prompt: Internet friends to lovers

AN: This is for @flowerymoonlight ‘s challenge 💙 also thank you to @saundrasays & @jillybeaner13 for reading over this part for me, I owe you both 💚

I will not be doing a taglist for this mini series

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Are you sure Sam won’t mind?” Friday’s were date nights for him and Wanda, so when she called that morning and invited you to dinner, you got suspicious. It had been almost a year since your ex found himself a new girlfriend and as your best friend, Wanda had made it her mission to keep your mind off of him - he was a coward and didn’t deserve anymore of your tears. You came home one day and all his belongings, and the huge flat screen that you paid for, were gone. You thought someone had broken in until you found a note in his hand writing that just read “sorry”.

“Date night got moved, he’s got a “business” call with his friend in an hour. It’s fine, really, ask him yourself.” she gestured to the front door of their apartment, Sam walking in seconds later. “Babe, tell YN that date night is cancelled.”

“Hi honey, my day was amazing, thanks for asking.” he said, following it with a kiss so she knew he was messing with her. “Yeah, a buddy of mine in California works in security and he sent us this new system and I have no idea how to work it. I figured with the time difference and our attention spans it would be better to move date night to tomorrow.” Sam didn’t bring up this friend often, you didn’t even know his name, but you were definitely curious.

While Sam cleaned up, you helped Wanda by setting the table. She insisted on doing all the cooking and you learned to just let her have it. It wasn’t long before the three of you were sitting around the dinner table, laughing over empty plates. Being around Wanda and Sam was always refreshing, the mood was always light and the conversation always flowed from one thing to another so naturally. Before any of you knew it, Sam was getting a FaceTime call, “SCOTT! Your friend's name is Scott! Ha!” Sam laughed at your excitement as he walked into his office to answer the call.

Instead of going home, Wanda poured you a glass of wine and decided you were staying, something about Sam always losing track of time when it came to Scott. You were looking through their collection of DVDs when you found an oldie but goodie, Jawbreaker. By the time it started playing, Wanda was back with snacks and blankets.

The movie wasn’t on for long before you had to go to the bathroom, Courtney was being a bitch again so you didn’t worry about missing the rest of the scene. As you were washing your hands, though, you thought you heard your name. You turned off the water and was about to brush it off when you heard it again… coming from Sam’s office?

After sneaking out of the bathroom and down the hall, you found yourself standing to the side of the half opened door, trying to figure out why your name would be brought up by either of them. You were just about to forget about it until you heard it again, “I just don’t think YN would be up for it..”

“Be up for what?” you bursted through the door, causing Sam to throw his phone across the room, coincidently, at your feet. Sam knew he wouldn’t get to it before you, so you quickly grabbed it up and bolted to the living room. “Oh look,” you smiled at the stranger on the phone, “he has a name and a face to match.”

“Ahh, you must be YN. Sam said you were a fallen angel, now I know why.” He was cute, funny, and definitely just winked at you.

“That’s not - I said she was the devil, and THIS is why! Who just bursts into rooms and takes their friends' phones!?” He was still chasing you through the apartment, meanwhile Wanda was laughing so hard on the couch she was almost in tears.

“Awww Sammy, you talk about me?? That- that’s so sweet!” you laugh, trying to dodge the pillows Sam is hurdling your way. He finally pelts one right at your head, causing you to drop his phone. You tried grabbing it, but Sam was faster, “YN, I love you to death, but I will body slam you into the couch the next time you make me chase you ever again.”

“That’s fine, I got what I wanted.” with a smug look on your face, you walked back to your spot on the couch to finish the movie.

Later that night after Wanda and Sam were asleep, you were still up scrolling through different apps when you got a few interesting Twitter notifications.

It had been a few days since you and Scott “met”. You only had a few conversations after that, but this was the most you’ve put yourself out there in a long time and it felt good. Even if he was just a friend, you sensed he was going to be important.

For some reason though, Sam still wasn’t super excited with how close you were getting. “I mean, I love Sam dearly, but he’s not the friend police.” Wanda only gave a shrug before opening her apartment door to the sound of Sam talking to someone on the phone.

“Hey babe,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek, “who's that?”

Before he could even answer you heard the laugh and knew it was Scott. “So, how is my first ex husband doing?” You tried getting a good look at his screen, but he kept it far from your reach. “You wish, he won't be your ex anything if I have anything to say about it!”

From Sam’s phone you could hear Scott laugh hard before replying, “Aw, Sam, that’s so sweet. We’re not even dating yet and you’re already fighting for us to make it. That's the best man energy I’m looking for.” Scott’s laugh was cut off by Sam ending the call, refusing to play along with whatever that was.

“How close are you two exactly?” Sam has always treated you like a little sister, but ever since Quill left it’s only gotten worse. He felt responsible since he introduced you, but there was no way he could have known that Quill was the biggest asshole in the galaxy. “Because when he asked about you, he called you his “future wife” so what kind of coincidence is that??”

Wanda rolled her eyes, knowing exactly where this was headed. “Babe, relax. They haven't talked that much. But, just thinking out loud...” she paused, “they do have a lot in common..”

“What are you getting at?”

“Nothing, It- it’s a shame he lives on the other side of the country because I think you two would be the perfect couple, but that doesn’t mean you two shouldn’t be friends.” She’d always been able to know what you were thinking without you even telling her, Scott was funny and cute and she was right, if he lived in NYC he’s definitely the type of guy you’d try to date. But he didn’t, and that’s okay.

As you got to know Scott better though, you learned that he was more than just the “funny” one. He was ridiculously smart and clever, more than he gave himself credit for. When he told you that he spent a few years in prison you didn’t believe him, he ended up just sending a picture of his mugshot and links to articles about the trial. Sam was surprised to find out you knew, it wasn’t information Scott just confessed to everyone.

“How did it even get brought up?”

“We were playing 21 questions and I asked him what the most trouble he ever got in, when he first told me I thought he was kidding but after he sent proof I was shocked.” Scott was worried that you’d look at him differently, but if anything it made you respect him more. It also meant that he trusted you, and you should trust him too.

It wasn’t long before you realized you were catching real feelings for him, and Wanda was right, a long distance relationship just wasn’t something you could do right now. You should have seen it coming, prevented it even. Staying up on the phone all night, texting him before Wanda when something random happens, the good morning/ goodnight texts.. You even told him about Quill, turns out Scott knew who he was, vowing to give Sam hell for introducing you to “that asshole” instead of him.

“Oh, so you think you’d be a better boyfriend?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” He became very flirtatious recently and you secretly loved it. Of course, you’d never let him know it.

“How’s a guy like you single, anyway?”

“It’s a funny story actually..” there was a strain in his voice that made you want to tell him he didn’t have to answer, but his tone told you that this was something he needed so say. “I was engaged to a woman, Hope, for almost two years. One day I saw a text from her boss and in one message I found out all the business trips they were taking were actually for pleasure, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, Scotty..”

“No, don’t feel bad. That was almost a year and a half ago, I’m more than over it. I just don’t trust as easily anymore.” As he changed the topic to something more light, you thought about what Sam had said before, how Scott told you things he doesn’t normally tell other people. For a second, you almost let yourself think that he might have some kind of feelings for you, too.

“So, what’s the plan again?” Wanda had insisted Sam’s birthday party be a surprise this year, even throwing it the weekend before his actual birthday so he wouldn’t suspect.

“If you’d stop texting Scott for two seconds you’d remember.”

“Bucky and Steve are taking him out to do whatever his heart desires, while we’re here getting ready. The food should be here in like, two hours, so we’ve got plenty of time. I told Steve they’re not allowed back before 7pm and that I’d text him when we’re done just to be safe. The slackers will show up whenever they please, I guess.”

By slackers she meant Pietro and Clint, they showed up just in time to help lay out the food. They definitely didn’t sample everything they put their hands on, that would be rude. Well, at least they brought alcohol.

Wanda finally texted Steve that everything was ready and not even 10 minutes later they were walking through the door. Sam was greeted to a loud “surprise” from everyone in the room and was quickly prepared to catch Wanda, who threw herself into his arms. It wasn’t until Bucky and Steve fully entered the apartment that you realized there was someone else with them.

“Scott?” As he made his way to you, time felt as if it were slowing down all around you. As silly as it sounds, you never thought you’d actually meet him, or maybe you just didn’t allow yourself to. It didn’t matter though, did it? Here he was, the man you’ve been falling for for months now, standing right in front of you like he had in so many of your dreams. “Is this real?”

Before he could explain, Wanda beat him to it, “I texted him a few weeks ago to see if he wanted to come out, he agreed on the condition it would be a surprise to everyone. He got in last night.”

“A whole day, Scott Lang. You’ve been in the city a whole day!? You were texting me the whole time!” He scooped you up in his arms for a hug, and when he put you down you immediately wished he didn’t.

“The look on your face was definitely worth it.” You’ve seen his smile a hundred times, but none compared to how contagious it was in person.

After that, he never left your side. At first you felt bad because he was Sam’s friend and he was only here because it was Sam’s birthday, but he told you that they just spent the last eight hours together and you didn’t feel as bad. “Besides, I’ll be here a week,” he quickly scanned the room to make sure no one was watching and began to whisper in your ear - it was soft, and deeper than you’ve heard before, “that’s plenty of time to get to know eachother better.”

Blushing, you playfully slap him on the chest and go to refill your drink. You thought it’d be a good idea to double the amount of alcohol that was already in the glass, but quickly decided against it and went for soda instead. There was no way you were going to turn into a drunk idiot in front of him, no way.

“So, do you like your surprise?” Wanda said. With Scott flirting teasing you, you almost forgot this was all her doing.

“Could have given me a warning, Wands..”

“I did, I told you to wear those shoes with that dress.” She pointed to the simple black heels you were wearing that went perfectly with the black dress that was just hanging in the back of your closet. The top was black lace, while the bottom half was silky and flared out. At first you wondered why you were getting so dressed up when you weren’t even leaving the apartment, but brushed it off when she told you it matched the dress code she gave to everyone.

“He’s leaving in a week, what am I supposed to do, seduce him into staying?”

“No,” she laughed, “but don’t ignore your feelings. Everyone knows he likes you too.”

“You’ll never stop meddling, will you?”

“Never.”

“Glad we cleared that up.”

She then wished you good luck and went off to find Sam, but as the night went on her words never left your mind. It had been a long time since you let the thought of Scott liking you back cross your mind, but now with your best friend telling you that he in fact does…

“Whatcha thinking about?” Green eyes and the smell of mint flooded your senses and every thought was lost.

“Nothing important. So, what are you actually doing while you’re here? I’m sure Sam is excited.” There was no harm in testing the waters, right?

“He is, but I was being serious before, I want to get to know you better.”

“The only person who knows me better than you is Wanda, and she knows me better than I do.” He began laughing, and just like his smile, it was even better in person.

“That’s all true, but I have two options for you: take advantage of the time that I’m here, or come back to San Francisco with me for a few days. Or both, I’d be more than okay with both.”

“I’m sure you would, but let’s take it slow? Lunch tomorrow?”

“It’s a date,” he smirked, “right now though you should come listen to the embarrassing story of Sam I’m about to tell.”

Permanent tags (49/50): @sociallyeneptbarnes @hopesbarnes @saturn-aka-six @stuckonjbbarnes @superavengerpotterstar @estillion14 @sleepingspacedragon @geeksareunique @infj-slytherclaw @imsoft-barnes @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @murdermornings @distractedgemini @screaming-fridge @readeity @whatinthyworld @my-drowning-in-time @valkyriesryde @starbxcks @buggy-blogs @hey-its-grey @pinknerdpanda @brokenthelovely @theannoyingnightmarecollector @death-unbecomes-you @rhymesmenagerie @ptrprkrss @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @mushyjellybeans @https-bucky @also-fangirlinsweden @goalexis123 @missmeganrachel @sunflowersandcherry @miraclesoflove @matsumama @reann-loves-sebstan @thinkoutsidethebex @thefridgeismybestie @niall2017 @maddope @imagine-all-the-imagines @thummbelina @m3ga1nsp1r3d @starspangledseb @thebadassbitchqueen @king-seb @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @bonkyboinkybucky

#celebratinguswriters #scott lang x reader #scott lang imagine #social media au #mcu fanfic #marvel #wish you were here #fluff #angst #pining #internet friends to lovers

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jumpship90 · 4 years

Text

Into the Multiverse!

“You can’t get any kind of connection with the lab?”

“Negative, Captain. Dr Welles’ terminal is not accepting transmission requests.”

Jaq swore under their breath. They really could have done with Phineas’ advice on this one.

One minute they’d been shuttling replacement parts for a generator down to the New Hope Centre, the next, they’d been thrown completely off course by a phenomena they had never encountered before. Since passing through the . . . what had ADA called it? Portal? Anomaly? Jaq wasn’t rightly sure what it was but the important point was their systems had gone haywire ever since they had been sent hurtling through, every alarm the Unreliable had (including a few they’d been previously unaware of) screaming at them until Parvati had gotten things under control. All was quiet now and that worried Jaq more.

They stared out the cockpit window at the ship before them – a mirror image of their own – and tapped their fingers against the arm of the captain’s chair, picking at the edge of the frayed leather.

“And you’re reading life forms aboard the . . . other Unreliable?”

“Correct, Captain.”

Was this some sort of trap? Another attempt by the deposed former Board members to undermine the new government in the system? Or something else? Something stranger?

“Transmission inbound. It appears to be from an alternate autonomous-digital-astrogator.”

ADA’s pixelated brows had disappeared upwards in surprise on the terminal. Jaq suspected their own expression was similar.

“Patch it through, ADA.”

There was a moment’s pause as the connection was secured and then a woman’s voice filled the cockpit, steady and authoritative.

“Am I speaking with the Captain of the Unreliable?” she asked.

“Correct,” Jaq replied, curiosity warring with caution. “And you are?”

Static crackled in the air and Jaq rubbed the back of their neck where their hair stood on end.

“I too, am the Captain of the Unreliable. My Unreliable, that is.” The voice sounded thoughtful now and tinged with what might have been excitement. “It would appear you and your crew have crossed into this Universe via a temporal rift.”

Right. Obviously. That made total sense, Jaq thought. They narrowed their eyes at the ship opposite, searching for . . . they weren’t really sure what. Markings from a mercenary group maybe? Or something off, something to mark it out as hostile. It really did appear, in every way, to be exactly the same as their own.

“You suspect a trap?” the unknown woman asked.

“Wouldn’t you?”

The alternate Captain hummed. “A reasonable assumption, to be certain, but not correct in this case, Captain . . ?”

“Evenshaw,” Jaq offered. “Captain Jaq Evenshaw.” There didn’t seem any risk in giving their name. It carried a little weight after all – or it did in their own universe at least, and if this woman was to be believed then that seemed unlikely to be the case here.

“And I am Captain Aethel Fiori de DeSoto,” she returned.

DeSoto? Was this some long-lost relative of Max’s? Well, at least that didn’t sound like the name of any Board loyalists Jaq had come across.

“Have you encountered the concept of the multiverse before, Captain Evenshaw?”

“Uhh . . .” It sounded like something Phineas might have mentioned once or twice but they couldn’t say they understood it.

“Not to worry,” the other captain offered and Jaq found her voice strangely reassuring. “If you are willing to meet – and I believe it may be mutually beneficial for us to do so – then I will do my best to explain. Though, it might be best, Captain Evenshaw, if you came alone. I think it would be prudent to avoid our two crews making contact.”

* * *

Jaq waited for the hiss of the airlock doors opening, their nerves tingling in anticipation. Their hands felt empty without the weight of a rifle but they had agreed to come unarmed. They tightened the strap on their body armour just for something to do.

“I believe you are making a grave mistake, Captain,” Max had said as they’d prepared to leave the safety of their own ship, and for once, even Felix hadn’t argued with him. Under other circumstances, Jaq would have been inclined to agree with the vicar, walking alone and unarmed into unknown territory wasn’t the brightest plan, nor the most strategically sound, but there was something about the tone of the other captain that set them at ease.

Still, Jaq was wary when they stepped through into the uncannily familiar confines of the alternate Unreliable.

“Aah, it’s you.”

Jaq froze just beyond the threshold of the airlock, taking in the striking woman before them. Her dark skin was framed by white hair and Jaq found themselves staring back into golden eyes that regarded them with curiosity. She stood a little over their own height, graceful limbed and with the confidently controlled posture that Jaq recognised as being that of a fellow soldier. They frowned and weighed her up, searching for any sign of hostility in those startling eyes.

“How nice to put a name to face,” Captain Fiori de DeSoto continued. “Or one of them, at least.”

Jaq’s confusion must have shone through their attempts to guard their expression as she offered a reassuring smile. “All will be explained. Please, accompany me somewhere we might speak more freely.”

With that she stood aside, welcoming them aboard the Unreliable. As Jaq stepped in, they thought they caught sight of a curious pair of eyes watching them from the hold before the figure skittered away. They followed Fiori de DeSoto up the stairs to the captain’s cabin, their hand hanging loose at their side, fingers just within reach of where their holster should have been.

“Tea?” the Captain asked upon entering the room.

Jaq nodded, staring about them, taking in the décor. This was the first real difference they had noted since boarding. Where their room was adorned with tossball posters, photographs and hastily scribbled to-do lists, this space was, though still distinctly homely, perhaps neater and more ordered. Jaq spotted the same drinks trolley that sat in their room, but rather than holding bottles of zero-gee and abandoned electronics, it was adorned with crystal and glass that appeared handmade, and there were stacks of books about the room that would not have looked out of place in Max’s cabin.

“Here.”

When they turned, Captain Fiori de DeSoto was offering them a cup of fine china painted with intricate patterns, the sweet smell of trip-teaze drifting from it. Jaq accepted it with a grateful smile. They’d seen enough to just about convince them there was no risk here, or, at least, not if they extended the Captain the same courtesy she had shown them.

“Now then,” the Captain said, taking a seat on the edge of her bunk. “Shall we talk?”

* * *

“So, you’re telling me I’m in one of an infinite number of alternate universes?”

Aethel nodded. “That’s right.” She’d been patient in explaining the concept of the multiverse, fielding Jaq’s questions without hesitation or any hint of frustration as they struggled to wrap their head around what was happening. Admittedly, they’d found accepting the idea they had slipped into another dimension a little easier than that Aethel was married to the vicar. . .

“And in this Universe, I – I mean the other me – is still in stasis aboard the Hope?”

“Most likely,” she replied. “Or perhaps you never boarded the Hope. We could not say without checking the personnel records. Anything is possible.”

Jaq fiddled with the empty tea cup before setting it down cautiously atop the polished surface of the desk beside the captain’s terminal.

“Of course, it would be best if you did not have contact with the other you,” Aethel continued with the same casual authority with which she had bestowed all her knowledge throughout their conversation. “Who knows what might happen should that occur. This reality could splinter at the anomaly of two Jaqs occupying the same space. Or you might become trapped here.”

Jaq had no reason to doubt her knowledge on the subject. They grimaced at the thought. It was probably best not to break time and space as they knew it if it could be avoided.

“Phin’s not going to believe this,” they muttered. They weren’t sure they’d be able to remember half of what Aethel had explained. They’d have to ask her to write it down for them so they could provide him with a full report.

“Phin?” Aethel seemed to turn the word over in her mouth for a moment, weighing it up. “You are referring to Dr Phineas Welles, I presume?”

Jaq gave a wary nod and realised they were running a thumb over the band of black ink etched into the skin of their finger. Out of habit, the ring itself sat safe in their pocket on its chain, in case of the need for sudden violence. It had been an unnecessary act in this incidence.

They noted Aethel’s gaze following the movement of their thumb. “Ahh, I see,” she intoned, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Jaq slipped their hand in their pocket.

“And you would like to return to Dr Welles?”

“As soon as possible.” And without inducing some sort of tear in the fabric of the universe, preferably.

Aethel cast them a warm look full of understanding. “Well then, let’s see what I can do to assist with that.”

Thank you to @autonomous-digital-astrogator for organising this exchange.

@jackalgirl I hope I got some way towards capturing the wonderful complexity of Aethel’s character. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know her and can’t wait to read more of her story.

#captain aethel #captain jaq #tow captain exchange #the captain of the unreliable

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justlookatthosesausages · 4 years

Text

“Lift the Spirit” :: a post-Frozen 2 Elsamaren fanfic

Chapter 4: On the edge of the abyss

“You are… Going to fight with those?” Muttered Ryder.

“Yep.” Smiled Anna with a proud pout.

“Those are… Yours, Kristoff’s and Eydis’ weapons?”

“Yep.”

“Should I be concerned if you three ever get angry at me?”

“...Yep?”

They looked at each other, then burst out of laughter.

“Come on”, giggled the Queen as he closed the chest. “It’s time to eat.”

He followed her to the spot where their extended family was relaxing, and Eydis was already serving lunch.

Ryder sat happily between Anna and Honeymaren, who had Elsa on her lap.

“Ahh, the powerful trio of the three strongest women of the country!”

The referred women frowned in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

The brown-haired man grinned. “Well, Maren is the tribe leader, Anna the Queen of Arendelle, and Elsa the guardian of Ahtohallan. So yeah, you three are the most amazing women I’ve ever met.”

There was a silence, and they exchanged unsure gazes.

Ryder blinked. “Unless one of you doesn’t identify with the term ‘woman’? It’s fine then, just ask me and I’ll change.”

Anna chuckled at his kindness. “I think we’re good with the woman appellation.”

He sighed. “Okay. Cool. Sorry for panicking. I’ve spent a lot of time with Olaf on last Yule, and he kept talking about genders and pronouns, and…”

Honeymaren tapped his shoulder affectionately. “You’re doing great, Ryder. Here, take some soup before you have a cardiac arrest.”

Anna and the brunette laughed openly, however Elsa remained quiet.

Despite her blatantly essential duty, she couldn’t help but think that she was less important than Honeymaren and Anna, who had game-changing roles that required more leadership than her. Also, they had to manage people, while Elsa had to manage magical beings. Those were just as stubborn as humans, if not more, but at least Elsa could feel their emotions and presence anytime. All of their exchanges were sincere, transparent. There was no way to be lied to in such a relationship. With the Northuldra and Arendelle, on the other hand… Not that the blonde considered them fervent liars, far from it, but one could never know about a human’s real opinion. Elsa had been Queen for 3 years, and in that experience, she had learned that people - especially male politicians - weren’t always trustworthy.

She got jolted out of her thoughts by Eydis heavily sitting down next to her, and the princess sighed longly.

“There. I hope you will all like it.” Smiled the little blonde, despite a clear stress, to the Northuldra present around them. “Bone at the teeth.”

They nodded, and Elsa chuckled discreetly. “It’s ‘bon appétit’.” She whispered to her ear.

Eydis frowned. “Isn’t it what I said?”

“Never mind.” Smiled her aunt.

They all drank their soup in silent content, and it was quite good, which they didn’t miss to tell Eydis.

The princess started to daydream, looking in the horizon at the beautiful landscape they could admire from here. She saw two Earth Giants smile at each other as they exchanged their positions, switching to watch over the Northuldra land and prevent any surprise attack.

“Auntie?”

Elsa stopped staring at Honeymaren to turn to her niece. “Yes?”

“How does the Earth Spirit works? I just saw two Giants communicate with each other without even saying a word.”

Elsa grinned, and followed her gaze. “That’s because they use magic, just like I do when I communicate with them. We could call that telepathy. The Giants even have a way faster system to talk between them, as they are parts of one and only Spirit.”

Eydis nodded longly. “So, it’s like a hive mind?”

The blonde smiled at her cleverness. “Yes, exactly. Well, I’d say more like… An archipel. Because the Giants are like the visible islands on the surface, who actually are connected to each other in one and only land underneath.”

Anna snorted. “You spend way too much time with Nokk. Water metaphors are heavy.”

Honeymaren intervened as well. “Nah, that’s just Elsa. She’s a bookworm and her metaphors are constant.”

“Uhm, I’m sitting right here.”

She indeed was on her lap, and the brunette held her closer for cuddles, proving that this was just tease.

“Anyway”, Elsa said, turning to the Giant who was guarding the place they were looking at on the horizon. “That’s Pebble.”

Anna laughed openly. “Oh gosh, sorry, but… Damn, the names you give them. See? That’s the proof you spend too much time in the water.”

“No, that’s the proof that he spends too much time with Nokk. They keep playing together. And in fact…”

She closed her eyes and frowned slightly as she focused, tying a mental bond with the Giant despite the long distance. Eydis watched as the magical being named Pebble turned a bit to their direction, like he got called.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Chuckled Elsa as she opened her eyes again. “He was hanging with Nokk before arriving for his shift.”

“That’s cute.” Commented Honeymaren, though the Snow Queen couldn’t tell if she was referring to the Spirits being good friends or to Elsa casually sharing a mind connection with a 12-meter tall being.

“Hey, Maren, speaking about bookworms, did you read the novel I gave you on last Yule?” Asked Anna.

“No, not yet. But it’s in the hut. On the nightstand, actually.”

Kristoff snorted at his wife’s intentions. “Are you turning the camp into a book club?”

The redhead laughed. “No. And no mockery! You know that the times I go to the Arendelle library on Wednesday nights are the only time of the week when I’m leaving you at peace.”

Kristoff smiled. “I love hearing you rambling about your recent readings on Thursday breakfasts, though.”

The Queen grinned lovingly.

Elsa was happy to see that Anna had made friends with townspeople. Arendellians were very open minded and knew how to forget that she was their sovereign to casually chat about novels with her in a public building.

“So, Honeymaren, are you going to join the book club once you’ve read her novel recommendation?” Laughed Kristoff.

“Oh, no, it’s not really my kind of thing anyway. I’m not much into reading.”

“Wait, what?” Frowned the redhead. “But you’ve finished several novels I told you about though.”

“I know. It’s because Elsa is the one reading them. She reads them aloud to me at night. I can’t resist it, she has the softest voice in the world.”

“Aaaaawwwww.” Melted Anna.

Elsa blushed, a bit pouty. That was a private habit…

“She does have a soft voice.” Admitted the redhead. “The kids want her to read a bedtime story everytime they can. Well, Isak at least. Eydis says she’s too old for stories now.”

She gave a look at her daughter behind Honeymaren and Elsa, and the young blonde grumbled.

“Though, the other night, she was listening to the one we told her brother. You’re still a fan, aren’t you?”

“Mooom!” Frowned Eydis, grumpy.

“Who wouldn’t be a fan of stories? You know, I’m certain that even animals love stories. You should see when we talk around the campfire. It’s like the entire Forest stops living to listen carefully.”

She even remembered the occasions when Elsa talks about her day to the reindeers, and the same phenomenon happens every time: rabbits, birds and squirrels gather near to listen to her from behind the bushes. Nevertheless, Honeymaren refrained herself to share this enchanting trivia with the others, because she realized that her wife was tense since she had talked about the reading sessions. She caressed Elsa’s back gently, and kissed her bare shoulder. The blonde looked down at her, and their eyes met. She gave her a forgiving sigh, but her azure blue irises sparkled as a warning. Honeymaren grinned, her lips stretching but still in contact with her skin.

They finished eating happily, until Anna stood up and slapped her thighs in both determination and excitement. “Alright! Let’s go scout around the camp.”

Kristoff blinked. “Can’t we take a nap first?”

“Heroes don’t nap.” Huffed the redhead.

Honeymaren giggled. “She’s kind of right. Also, I’m not saying we should tempt the devil, but if we walk around, it will give the possibility for Victor to attack, and we’ll catch him at his own game.”

They agreed and stood up along. “We’ll make two teams. I’ll go with Eydis and Elsa down the valley.” Suggested the Northuldra leader. “You two, with Ryder, across the woods.”

“Excellent.” Beamed Anna.

As they parted ways, she walked up to Honeymaren. “I trust you earnestly, but please make sure that Eydis is safe.”

“Don’t worry.” Assured Honeymaren, winking. “I’m responsible.”

Elsa scoffed sarcastically.

“What?” Frowned the brunette.

“The very first thing you taught my niece was to climb to trees, and how to hang up upside down with her legs without falling.”

Honeymaren gasped. “And isn’t that a practical thing she still uses today? That she could use in this very battle? It is, so stop staring at me like that.”

The two sisters eye-rolled. Eydis intervened to defend her aunt.

“I still thank you for that, actually. It’s not the kind of thing I’d learn from a princess royal training routine.”

“See?” Flinged Honeymaren.

“Eydis, you’re not helping right now.” Said Anna.

“I will keep an eye on your daughter, fire head. I promise.”

The princess turned at the nickname. “Hey, by the way, why do you call her ‘fire head’?”

Elsa giggled. “Because when she met your mother, it was the first time she ever saw someone with ginger hair. Nobody in the Northuldra tribe has such a hair color, you see?”

“Oooh.”

“This isn’t the only reason.” Precised Honeymaren. “When I have fight practice with Anna, her face gets all red from the effort.”

“My face doesn’t get all red. My cheeks are like, slightly more red than usual, at most. If you tease me one more time with that, Maren, I swear that we’ll have a training session right now and it will get very real.”

Ryder laughed behind them. “Liar. You secretly love that nickname. Because it sounds like a war title.”

Anna shrugged in admission, and Eydis grinned. It did have a ring to it.

She also noted how Ryder, Anna and Kristoff called Honeymaren ‘Maren’, while Elsa went for ‘Honey’. This family was really weird. She sighed.

“Shall we go, then?”

=======

“I just want to be a cooler uncle than Honeymaren to Eydis.” Insisted Ryder.

He never had gotten the chance to talk about that topic, because his niece was always around when he saw Anna and Kristoff in Arendelle. Now that they were in separate teams, it was the perfect time.

“Just tell me how!”

Kristoff laughed openly at his struggle. “It’s not something that we can advise you on, my friend. You’ll have to trust your instincts on that.”

“You know, the coolest aunt badge is already taken by Elsa.” Giggled Anna, sarcastic.

“Figuratively and literally.” Grinned the blond.

Ryder gave them a death stare as they all walked among the trees. “Can’t you help me instead of being sassy?”

Kristoff shrugged. “To be honest, Eydis is starting her teenager crisis years. So anything that we adults say to her is never ‘cool’ enough. She’s a bit indifferent to Elsa’s powers now.”

Ryder widened his eyes in shock. If she found the Fifth Spirit mundane, how could he ever compete?

Cogs turned in his mind as he thought of something.

“Having a digestive walk in the Northuldra woods, your Majesty?”

Suddenly said a voice behind them, and all three startled and turned around.

Someone was approaching, at a low and assured pace. It was a man, given his silhouette, and he seemed old, but also fit, like a retired guard.

“Are the Arendelle’s castle gardens too small for your taste? Not that you belong there anyway…” Said the mysterious man in a low voice.

He was wearing a dark purple cape, almost black. As he walked to them, and they were standing still, he took off the hood. Now they could see his face, that he didn’t plan to hide; Victor Eiglatson in person was standing in front of them.

“You…” Frowned Anna.

In her mind flashed images of his threats, his arrestation, his assaults described by Kristoff, Honeymaren, Elsa and the Northuldra, and, more importantly, the two innocent men who had died after his first attack.

“You will pay for what you have done!” Shouted Ryder, and he approached the old Arendellian.

Victor flicked his right wrist up to down in the Northuldra’s direction, and a dark slime blow hit his head from above. In a swift shock, the man groaned and fainted, falling head first in the grass.

“RYDER!!” Exclaimed Anna.

She then twirled to the enemy, her long red hair waving with her like a mane.

“I’ll have you killed for that!!”

Victor eye-rolled. “Calm down, Queenie. He’s only unconscious. I’m not gonna waste my magic on some random guy. You, on the other hand…”

Kristoff followed his gaze. He was strictly staring at Anna.

“Why are you interested in me?” Hissed the woman in question.

“That’s really obvious. You’re the Fifth Spirit’s biggest weakness. I’ll have her at my feet once I’m done with you.”

Anna frowned at his plan. She also wondered why he didn’t call her Elsa, but pushed that thought away to focus on clenching her fists.

“Well I’ll beat you up, you old--”

Kristoff’s arm stopped her in her momentum. She was strong, but he was even more muscular, so he easily held her in place.

“You’ll have to go through me first.” He threatened.

Victor didn’t even flinch at his sentence. “That can be arranged.”

He flipped his wrists, and a burst of dark slime spluttered out of his palms. Two liquid monsters formed on each side of him, and started running to them. He cackled like a maniac as they immediately ran for their lives before the creatures touched them with their long crooked fingers.

Kristoff was dragging Anna along his run, but soon understood that there was no need; she was even faster than him.

He gave a peak behind to check if there were safe, and saw to his biggest fright that the arm of the closest creature changed of form. When the goo assembled at the end of its fingers and solidified in the shape of a long blade, Kristoff’s heart leaped.

“WATCH OUT!”

He tackled Anna, and they rolled in the grass to dodge away from the attack. They stumbled to stand up, and he stared at the monster which had its blade planted to where they had been standing, now struggling to take it off. So it was solid.

Since when could they do that? Did they evolve? Did Victor learn from his past mistakes? Was he able to upgrade his creations, just like Elsa did? He gulped in apprehension.

The second creature quickly made him come back to reality; it used the same technique, but with both arms. Two black slimy blades cut through the air, whistling in the woods, and the two Arendellians jumped back to avoid being sliced in half.

They hadn’t plan this walk correctly, and Kristoff looked around to search for anything that could be used to repel the enemies.

The King then saw a trunk on the ground next to them, and he ran to it. He quickly valued his actions: he could use a fallen tree, right? He wouldn’t disrespect Nature, for this was a dead tree anyway. Kristoff nodded to himself and put his right foot on the trunk, then grasped with both hand the thickest of its branches. It was so wide his thumbs didn’t even touch his fingertips, but he managed to pull and pluck it out with a loud grunt.

Immediately, he twirled around and started to swung the branch in the direction of the creature.

He could effectively stop the left blade of the creature, but it got stuck in the wood, which surprised both him and the monster. It didn’t wait for another blow, though, and made its second blade sing in the air, aiming right at his throat. Kristoff frowned, and thought faster than light; he grabbed his stick with his hands in reverse order, and moved it towards the creature’s elbow moving in his direction. In a swift shift, the monster accidentally planted its blade in its other arm. Looking a bit dumb now, it had both arms tied together, and Kristoff pushed its body with a strong blow of the branch.

The monster fell on the ground. It then was confused on how to stand up now, with its arms like that, and it looked like it was punished and sitting with handcuffs on.

Anna grinned at the state of the enemy, and when Kristoff turned around, panting, his happy brown eyes suddenly widened in terror.

“What?” Said the redhead.

“Duck!!”

In any other context, Anna would have allowed herself a joke about the animal. Now wasn’t the time. She shrieked, curling down, and Kristoff jumped above her crouched body to slam the head of the monster who was about to spike his wife.

The racquetball-like move was given with all his strength, and the creature was stunned, losing its balance and falling backwards. Anna stood up slowly, looking at the two outperformed monsters. She breathed out with a gasp at the shock to have been close to death, and stared at Kristoff from head to toes. She made a pause to admire his muscles glistening with sweat, and his intense stare due to adrenalin.

“Gods I love you.” Sighed Anna, staring at him with arousal.

They stared at each other, and walked the meters separating them with their gaze lost in the ocean of the other’s, like the entire world had ceased to exist around them.

The approaching steps of the enemy brought them out of their reverie. Victor clapped his hands slowly with sarcasm. “Waow, truly effective, your Majesty. But you’re aware that you can’t beat them, right?”

He snapped his fingers, and the stunned creature toddled up, standing up again, while the other saw its arms vanish, then be created again. It went on its feet too.

Kristoff twirled his thick branch around, ready for round two. However, it now was covered with black magic ink, so he dropped it in a disgusted wince before he would get infected.

The Queen whinged at how they now were defenseless again.

“Why didn’t we take the weapons we brought?!” She exclaimed, blaming herself. “I’m so stupid, stupid, stupid!”

“Now is not the time for self-undervaluation, feisty.”

Anna grumbled, for he was right. She immediately placed her hands on each side of her mouth, lifted her head and sang the Spirits Call, as loudly and clear as she could. It rang in the woods and filled the air.

Victor burst out of laughter.

“What are you trying to do, nightingale? The Spirits cannot interact with my magic. Those are basic Nature rules.”

Anna gave him a side look that was overcharged with sarcasm. “I’m aware. Elsa, however, received Ahtohallan’s blessing. You’re screwed, Eiglatson.”

He shivered at her confident teal blue eyes. She wasn’t bluffing.

The old man looked around frantically, now fearing the worst. They had split up in groups, but Elsa could arrive in no time. He gritted his teeth and made his creations disappear with a hand flick.

“You’ll regret this. Deeply. Next time, I’ll have no pity.”

He stared at Kristoff and his wife, and turned around, running away. The blond frowned, not agreeing to let him escape. He ran after him, following his dark cape floating in his move, dashing through the woods. The King followed the man for a long time until the cape suddenly vanished, like it was made of the same goo than the monsters.

“Shit.” He muttered.

He had been fooled. This was an illusion. He grunted loudly, and punched the nearest tree in disappointment.

Anna helped Ryder stand up, and looked at where her husband had been running, wondering if he had managed to catch him. Though, she thought, Victor had magic, and if he was as skilled at Elsa, he would be able to disappear without a trace if he didn’t want to be followed. She knew how effective that was.

“Did he hurt your head?” Worried the Queen. “Did your skin get touched by it?”

“No, I’m okay. I had my hat on, thankfully. I knew that it would save my life one day.” Chuckled the Northuldra nervously.

Ryder retrieved his balance, when suddenly something blurry and white arrived at high speed right next to him, and he shrieked with a jump.

“ANNA!”

The blonde grasped her sister’s arms in less time that it took him to blink.

“Are you okay?! What happened? Why did you call?!”

Before Anna could even answer, Elsa counted only two persons out of three, and inspected the woods. “Where is Kristoff?!”

Gale arrived in a woosh, and made a noise, looking down at Elsa. Kristoff was okay, they said, but angry because he couldn’t catch the enemy in time.

“I’m fine, Elsa.” Assured the Queen.

“Okay, good. Good.”

“Can you please put me down now?”

The Snow Queen blinked in confusion and realized, in her panic, that she had been holding Anna by the arms like a clamp. The younger sister was stuck in her grip with her arms rigid along her body, her legs hanging in the air.

“Oh, sorry.”

She put Anna on the ground, and the redhead smiled sadly. She took Elsa’s hands in hers. “Breathe. It’s okay. He’s gone now.”

“But I couldn’t catch him!” Hissed Elsa, upset.

“I know.”

“Now we know how he looks like, and his fighting style.” Said Ryder, angry as well, so he switched his mind to an analysing mode. “Anna, tell me everything that had happened while I was unconscious. I’ll inform the warriors, and we’ll prepare.”

“Yes.” Encouraged Anna. “And this time, we will have our weapons at the ready.”

She put her hands on her elder’s cold shoulders, resolutely.

“Elsa, our next encounter with him will be the last. I vow to it.”

=======

Anna cracked her knuckles once they all gathered in the armory hut.

“Okay. Briefing the Northuldra, check. Updating their positions, check. Ours, check. Now…”

She rubbed her hands excitedly, and Elsa lifted an amused eyebrow when she recognized where she saw that expression.

“...Weaponry.”

With an excited - and a bit evil and scary - laugh, she opened the chest that they had brought on their wagon.

“Isn’t it a weird that a Queen who swears to be a pacifist and to never lead her kingdom to war is this thrilled about a battle?” Mocked Honeymaren.

“That’s because you haven’t seen my armor.” Winked Anna. “Also, a lady got to be busy. My hobbies include fight, what can I say?”

She opened the chest wide for everyone to observe, and took out weapons one by one.

To Kristoff, she gave his axe, and it shone in the soft light of the hut, its cheek and blade bright blue. The whole head that was normally made of the finest Arendelle metal had been crafted in ice, and could only had been done by one person. Elsa smiled proudly and admiratively, as her work of art got enhanced by the sun rays and floating dust that surrounded the weapon when Kristoff happily made it twirl.

“Perfectly balanced. As always.” He winked to the Snow Queen.

Elsa blushed. They bantered a lot about ice, and spend a considerable time talking about harvesting and such, but when he complimented her unique customizations, she felt a bit shy. But she deserved that praise; she had spent a lot of time on crafting the ideal addition for their weapons. She smiled bashfully and nodded, approving that her ice blade married perfectly with the wood haft. Victor’s monsters could be killed by her ice? Let it be so. But with some elegance, please.

Elsa’s eyes looked down at the grip that had Arendelle crocuses engraved on it, while Kristoff held the axe with both hands to inspect it. The blonde then congratulated herself on the density of the ice, which she could feel in the air from where she was standing. The back of the head, that had a hammer poll, looked more solid than anything despite its transparency. Since Ryder had laid eyes on the axe when Anna had showed it to him before meal, he couldn’t help imagining how Earth Giants themselves would be groggy if they got hit in the face with it.

Anna smiled and bent down again to pick up the next weapon. To Eydis, she gave her mace, whose numerous spikes shone so well that they seemed like sparks. Magically sharp, actually even sharper than razors, the blades glittered in the same way than Kristoff’s axe head, with a beautiful transparency that also scared by its density. Eydis’ mace had a classical grip, but all eyes were obviously staring at the top of it; it alternated between a blade and a spike, making it a fearsome item.

Honeymaren grinned. “So, your weapon of choice is a mace, uh? That’s a nice nod.”

“A nice nod?” Repeated Eydis. “To what?”

“Well, with what happened with Thor years ago. Did you pick this one because you’re at ease with hammers?”

The princess snorted. “Maybe. It’s handy in every meaning of the term.”

Just like her father, she spun the weapon in all ways once Anna gave it to her. She hit the air around in several expert ‘woosh’s, practicing her moves.

“I like the way it feels during fight.” Grinned Eydis.

Ryder widened his eyes at the sight. Yep, she was her mother’s daughter. However, when he saw the careful gaze that Anna was giving her, he could tell that Kristoff was definitely the one who approved on this mace. Nevertheless, Ryder would bet that Anna simply sighed and shrugged when Eydis asked for permission to make this her weapon.

The Queen returned to the chest.

Finally, she took the last weapon, hers, which was to no one’s surprise but to everyone’s honest impression, an enormous sword.

While the Northuldra siblings gasped in admiration, Kristoff sighed longly. “You had to bring your biggest sword, uh?”

“After seeing Victor Eiglatson earlier, I absolutely don’t regret it, dear.”

Honeymaren’s jaw dropped, and she came closer to observe it. Anna made quite a show when she tried it out. Obviously, the whole blade was made out of ice as well. Elsa smirked from where she was. It shone around as Anna wielded it, and even reflected on the wood walls of the hut. It was, out of the three weapons, the one with the biggest amount of ice, so it made a great impression.

Honeymaren was impressed as always by the beauty of her wife’s magic. Though, despite all of that, what impressed her the most was how effortlessly Anna was lifting the sword. It was an impressive work of art that surely weighed more than Honeymaren would even expect. How the heck did she make it seem effortless?

Eydis gasped excitedly. “Awesome! I never got to see this one close before!”

When Anna put it down against the wall of the armory hut to look for their battle outfits, the princess eyed the sword with envy, walking to it.

“Can I borrow it to try it out? With auntie’s ice blade, it’s gorgeous.”

Anna turned around and was about to give her answer, but Eydis, in her iconic nerve, already lifted the sword up. She rose it to see the cross-guard closer, but the blade was way heavier than she thought, and the weapon tilted. With a yelp, she lost her grip, and the sword fell forward to the floor.

“Holy hell!” Muttered the princess.

Anna smirked as she caught it. “I was about to suggest you to not lift it. This sword can’t be wielded by anyone, sweetheart. There is a reason why Elsa custom-made it for me.”

She approached her astonished daughter. “Only I am able to use it. It actually took a lot of training to master my moves. Also, see how long that grip is?”

“Yeah, it’s longer than any sword I’ve ever seen.” Murmured Eydis.

“That’s because it’s a two-handed sword. You lifted it with only one, so it was a foregone conclusion.” Smiled Anna.

She placed it back against the wall.

“So you put both hands on the grip?” Asked Eydis, curiosity and enthusiasm making her voice high.

“It depends on the move or feint you intend to make. Most of times, I place one hand on the grip…” She showed it to her. “And the second one on the pommel.”

Her hands now covered the pine green grip and the pommel proudly engraved with the Arendelle crocus. With its green hilt and its purple round hilt end in each hand, it gave the Queen an astonishing aura by reminding the flag’s colors. She demonstrated the easy twirls that this two hands position allowed to do.

“It’s the most beautiful sword I’ve ever seen.” Exhaled Honeymaren, in awe.

Anna smirked proudly while Elsa blushed with a soft smile.

“Elsa made it entirely for me.”

As if the entire ice blade wasn’t enough of a hint, the rain-guard - which, just like the grip, was made of high quality leather dyed green - had a embedded snowflake symbol. It was the upper half of the snowflake, and it gave the feeling that it introduced the upcoming blade to sight when one observed the stunning weapon. The scabbard, which Anna had discarded next to the chest after she proudly made the sword sing by taking it off, was breathtaking as well. All along were traced drawings that seemed to have been made by both Elsa and Anna. Honeymaren wondered if they had been crafting it together, and easily imagined them giggling as they did in a warm sharing moment.

“Why a two-handed sword, though?” Asked Ryder.

“I suggested it to her since that stubborn idiot refuses to use a shield.” Smirked Elsa.

“A really good suggestion.” Said Anna, who preferred to ignore the derision.

They went out of the hut for Ryder to show them the staff that he would be using. None of the Arendellians commented negatively on how simple his weapon was compared to them. First because they were nice and enough open-minded to not judge ahead, and second because all three of them actually knew the aching pain that followed a hit in the shins. Ryder didn’t train often, but had won a few rounds thanks to that. From what they had seen, Victor Eiglatson wasn’t wearing any armor, and that might even be the blow that would take him down. After all, the most effective attack is the one one doesn’t expect, and Ryder was an expert at sliding down to hit weak spots.

While they were outside and Elsa and Honeymaren started to chat a bit further, Eydis came close to her mother.

“Will auntie be okay? During the fight?”

Anna frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve never seen her truly be mean in her blows. She’s not very direct. She’s a bit scared to be offensive, no?”

The redhead blinked as she stared at Eydis, then suddenly laughed loudly, her head wiping back. “Oh dear, you truly have no idea, do you?”

“What?” Grumbled the princess.

Anna coughed as she tried to retrieve her breath. “Yeah. Right. Sorry. You can’t know, because Arendelle and Northuldra have both always known peace since you were born. So you’ve never seen her actually fight.”

Eydis was upset by her mother’s giggles. “What is so funny?”

The Queen smiled. “Let me search for an example… Well, you have a big snowball fight with her at every Yule, uhm? Remember last year when you asked her to stop holding herself back, to have an actual challenge, and you came back to the castle exhausted?”

Eydis scoffed. “It’s not that amazing, I remember I got to touch her once or twice with a snowball.”

Anna smirked. “Because it was a game. Now imagine what she does when it’s a fight. Did you see Elsa pick up snow from the ground when she, for once, didn’t force herself to slow down?”

The little blonde widened her eyes at that realization. Elsa had been crafting those snowballs out of thin air. “No.”

“Did you see her being out of breath, just for one second?”

Now Eydis gulped. She had been able to hit her aunt several times, but was panting once the game was over. On the other hand, her aunt was perfectly fine.

The princess got suddenly aware that she had been fooled all along. Elsa had only pretended to be hit to make her happy. How dumb was she to not have understood this before? Her aunt was astonishingly athletic, she knew it. Once, she had seen her race with Nokk on the fjord shore and she had been running faster than them. And they have the shape of a horse.

Eydis’ jaw dropped. “Okay, now that is just creepy.”

Anna nodded with a smirk. “You don’t have to worry any second of her abilities on a battlefield. She could kill us all in our sleep, trust me.”

Kristoff approached to put a hand on Anna’s shoulder and a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m gonna go train with Ryder, we’ll see you later.”

He was happy for such a context, and his wife snorted. “Don’t wear yourself out. It’s better if you’re in good shape for the upcoming fight. Be careful, okay?”

The blond man smiled at her care. “I will.”

He followed Ryder to the training area, and not even two full seconds later, he tripped over a root, and almost fell to the ground.

Eydis burst out of laughter as her father grumbled. Anna remained serious to not make him feel ashamed.

“Damn, I lost my ice harvesters reflexes.”

“Too many king activities?” Teased Ryder.

“If you want, I can show you how to use an axe again.” Laughed Eydis.

“Don’t mock me, you two!”

Eydis bit her lip to hide her smile.

“Sorry. Well, I’m not gonna lie, you taught me all I know about resourcefulness in the wild and how to be an ace at ice harvesting. So I can’t demean you.”

Kristoff gave her a smile, then rejoined Ryder.

Anna went to Honeymaren and Elsa, where the brunette was preparing her bow for the battle.

She was intrigued when she approached the leader.

“Wait, don’t you usually have a bigger bow? Where’s the one you hunt with?”

Honeymaren smirked. “Judging on sizes, your Majesty?”

Anna snorted. “Of course not.”

The Northuldra made the bow twirl left to right and back with her hand on the grip. “This bow is a warrior one, that’s why the size is different.”

“Uhm, excuse me, a what? As much as I love this name, I’m confused. Why ‘warrior’?”

The brunette smiled. “It’s the type of bow. You know, they come in all shapes and sizes, just like people…”

“Stop with the tease, dummy.”

She got a smirk in return. “The one you see me use during hunt is a long bow. Very long, in fact. It’s optimized for stealth, with a light wood and silencers on the string to be as discreet as possible. We also craft them that long because we use them from a very far distance. With those features, we do not frighten the animals, and therefore are respectful of Nature. We have a more tender meat as their death was quick and without fear.”

Anna gulped at the powerful statements.

“This one...”, said Honeymaren, lifting the bow she was holding. “Is quite exactly its opposite. Notice how its wood is way shorter and curved three times, even at the tips. It’s optimized for fighting. I’m not a fan of what it represents and the context it’s used in, but it’s very effective. As we stand closer to the target, we don’t need a long bow, and this size allows faster recharge.”

“A bow for warriors on the battlefield…”

“Yes. Its unique asset is its main default, however. As we can’t draw the bow very much because it’s shorter than the usual, it only is for close range.”

Anna blinked, retrieving from those incredible details. She then smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a window to shoot.”

“I count on it.” Smirked the brunette.

She went to pick up new material in the craft shed to change the grip of the bow and make it brand new. On her way, she passed by Eydis, who was staring at the stunning collection of bows all hand-crafted by the tribe.

“You don’t have those bows in Arendelle, uh?” Grinned the proud leader.

Eydis puffed. “Even if I did, I can’t buy a single thing in the kingdom without thinking of mother, anyway.”

“What, she scolds you when you buy useless things? A bow is far from being useless.”

“No, because there’s her face on every coin.” Snorted the princess.

They both laughed.

“She never scolds me for anything I buy. I could ask a chocolatier for my weight in candies and she would even encourage it.”

They laughed again.

She saw that Honeymaren had sit down at a table to extend a band of leather and cut the parts she needed. She would be using the dagger she had at her waist, and that all adult Northuldra were wearing constantly, for how multifunction it was a for a people living in the wild.

“Hey, could you do the trick again?”

Honeymaren, who was about to simply take the dagger of its sheath and casually use it, smirked. She untied the leather pouch, twirled it in the air, then placed her wrist under it to make it spin around, and took out the dagger with expertise and elegance. The whole movement had been smooth, and Eydis’ eyes sparkled.

“Never gets old.”

Honeymaren waved her eyebrows and turned the knife between her fingers before getting to work.

A few minutes passed, and Eydis admired all the weaponry. Several ice arrows were on a table near the wall, and she approached her hand.

“Waow, those are superb. Look at the very precise and intricate heads…”

“Don’t touch that!” Exclaimed Honeymaren, rushing to her niece.

Eydis’ admirative eyes switched to angry ones. “Damnit! Why can’t I touch anything?!”

“Language.” Scolded Anna from afar.

“Sorry, Eydis.” Said the Northuldra leader with a pout. “Those are extremely sharp. Elsa upgraded them since the last time I used them, and even myself have to be very careful when handling them.”

She slowly placed them back in her quiver, and wondered why she had been leaving them there. Northuldra children could have hurt themselves… When they joined a whole stack of others in her quiver, she realized that in fact, Elsa had been crafting new ones after their meal.

She admired her wife’s dedication and work on their weapons. Each of them had been enhanced with Elsa’s unbreakable ice. Their efficiency against the monster would be unprecedented. Even Ryder’s staff was covered with a thin layer of ice to strengthen it, keeping the traditional way of fighting.

When Elsa had announced that she would be using a spear entirely made out of ice, and she had crafted it under their eyes, Honeymaren’s knees had almost buckled at the flashing image of how attractive her wife would be when she would fight with it. The spear was blue - obviously - and had - as usual - intricate details, for Elsa couldn’t help being extra. The shaft had all the colors of the Spirits spreaded on it, with the four diamond shapes and their symbols proudly displayed along. The head of the spear wasn’t the classical one but a four pronged trident, inspired by the four Spirits’ harmony. The blades were long and placed facing each other two by two, forming a round cross and looking like the cardinal points. Anna had made the remark that if she crafted this quadrident spear while on Nokk, she would look like Poseidon, but Honeymaren didn’t get the reference.

The odds for the fight were really good. Honeymaren smiled proudly and positively when the two sisters joined them.

“With Elsa’s expertise, we will defeat Eiglatson in no time.”

Anna wanted to support her positivity, but she shivered. “‘Next time, I’ll have no pity’, he said. I just hope that we will be strong enough. May the gods be on our side.”

Elsa nodded, then suddenly widened her eyes. It was like she had remembered or realized something out of nowhere.

“We will be prepared, Anna, don’t worry.” Assured Honeymaren with a firm leader voice.

They all agreed. Anna suggested to help Honeymaren refine the Northuldra warriors’ strategy, and Eydis to sharpen their weapons.

Elsa was the only one not to move, and she remained oddly silent, staring down.

Anna turned to her, and lifted an eyebrow, about to ask what was wrong.

“I need to take a moment alone before the fight.” Said the blonde, forcing herself to smile. “I’ll take a break in Ahtohallan.”

Her sister nodded. Elsa certainly needed to recharge in every meaning of the term; as an introvert with a bubble of calm, and a magical being with the ancient glacier. She had noted long ago how better the Snow Queen’s mood was after meditating in the magical source.

Honeymaren watched her lover go, slightly suspicious. But she shrugged and walked with Anna to the hut where they had spreaded a giant map on a table.

“Okay… Strategy thinking…” Mumbled the redhead, and Honeymaren got amused by her pout. “Maren, do you consider yourself lucky?”

The Northuldra leader snorted. “Well, I got to marry a Spirit who also is the most beautiful woman in the world, so… I certainly am.”

Anna eye-rolled comically. “I meant, if we make a back-up plan based on chance, would that be in your favor or not?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The Queen stared at Honeymaren, because now she had been silent, and the distance separating them from the hut was long, so that would soon be awkward between them. Anna noticed that the brunette was fidgeting with something on her left hand, but didn’t get to ask.

“You must think that I’m a hopeless romantic, uh?”

Anna smiled. “No, not at all. I mean, yes, you really are, but I don’t mind it, if it’s what you’re afraid of. I find your couple adorable. And you know already how Elsa’s happiness deeply matters to me, so to know that she’s living a perfect married life with you fills my heart with joy.”

Honeymaren smiled. “I’m the thankful one, I swear. You know, she changed my whole world.”

She rose her hands, showing the woods surrounding them. “First, by freeing the Forest, and then, by teaching me on her first night in the camp that constellations had names. It was barely hours after I discovered the existence of stars. Imagine how overwhelming that was.”

“I easily do.” Grinned Anna. “She’s a real nerd. I’ve known her for such a long time - I can’t say my whole life, that would be lying - and she still teaches me stuff about science and physics. It’s crazy coming from someone who also defies those laws with magic.”

Honeymaren chuckled tenderly.

“Once, she crafted a sextant for a little girl in the village.” Continued the redhead.

“A sex… What?”

Anna burst of laughter.

“It has nothing to do with sex. It’s a navigation tool, based on the position of stars.”

“Oh, I see. Old Northuldra told me that our people used to watch the stars to find their way.”

“All people used to.” Smiled Anna wisely.

Honeymaren nodded. It was also true figuratively. Elsa was the brightest star that ever shone to her eyes. She could follow her everywhere, like her true north. The brunette fidgeted with her ice ring again at the image of her wife giggling when she ran after her stunning figure in the fields, and Elsa turning around with a smile that warmed her heart like nothing else did.

“Mareeeeen…” Called Anna’s voice, probably not for the first time, and finally succeeding in bringing her back to Earth.

“Oh, sorry, you were saying?”

When she turned to the redhead, she was smirking. “Uhm, correct me if I’m wrong, but the hut is that way, no?” She said, pointing the other way.

Honeymaren blinked and look at where she was heading. Three more steps and she would bump head first into a tree.

“Y-yes, yes, I was… I’m coming.”

She cleared her throat, and followed her smiling sister-in-law to where she was supposed to go.

=======

When they went out of the hut more than two hours later, Anna stretched next to Honeymaren, then she suddenly heard a neigh in the distance.

She saw a familiar horse, gleaming between the trees, and trotting through the camp in their direction.

“Oh, hi Nokk!” Smiled Anna, waving. “What are you doing here? Isn’t Elsa with you?”

She then saw that someone was on their back, but not seated like they rode them; that person had been picked up and transported.

Nokk stopped walking in the middle of the camp, about twenty meters away from them. Honeymaren’s eyes widened at the platinum blonde hair of the of woman.

“Elsa?!”

The blonde groaned, shook her head and massaged her forehead. She forced herself to sit up, but she clearly had difficulties.

“Elsa, are you okay?!” Panicked Anna, staring at the blonde.

Nokk neighed loudly.

“I’m fine.” Murmured Elsa, getting down from the Water Spirit with as much composure as she could.

Nokk neighed again, insistent.

“Okay, I may not be.” Muttered the Snow Queen, and only the horse could hear that.

She let go of Nokk’s neck and lurched along the path. Anna and Honeymaren had come close, sensing that something was wrong.

“Elsa, you’re usually pale, but now you’re white as a sheet. What happened?” Worried her sister.

“Do you need help to walk?”

“I can walk, it’s okay…”

Honeymaren didn’t insist, noticing how stubborn Elsa was. However, as her and Anna gave way for her to walk through the camp, her knees suddenly buckled.

“Elsa!!”

She collapsed to the ground, and Honeymaren rushed to catch her. The blonde fainted in her arms, her head dropping back, and Honeymaren lifted it up.

“ELSA!!” Screamed the brunette a second time, starting at her lover’s face with alarmed wide eyes.

She shook Elsa’s body desperately. She pressed her ear to her chest to hear if her heart was beating, but her own heart was beating so fast that she couldn’t focus on the right sound. To make it even worse, Anna had fallen to her knees next to her and was breathing faster and louder each passing second, inspecting her elder’s face.

“ELSA!!”

The Snow Queen didn’t respond, still unconscious, her eyes closed. Honeymaren kept her hand behind her head and fumbled at her belt with the other. She grabbed the knife at her waist and drew it in one swift move, then contrasted with that speed by delicately placing the blade under Elsa’s nose. Time seemed to hang in the air while both Anna and Honeymaren stared desperately at the metal, until it covered with condensation. Elsa was breathing.

They both sighed heavily, their shoulders slumped. They now were sitting on their heels, gripping the blonde’s body. Honeymaren shook her arms.

“Please, please open your eyes, Elsa. Please stay with me. Please stay with us.”

She shook her body again, and Elsa blinked tiredly, opening her eyes very slowly.

Honeymaren gasped and held her tight, muttering a long line of prayers and gratitudes to the world for bringing back her wife. As she hugged her, she felt the ice and snow clothes under her fingers, and she only realized then that it should have been the best clue to know that she hadn’t left them; the magic fabric would have melted away otherwise.

“I like it when you hold me in your arms like that…” Muttered the voice of her lover next to her ear.

The Northuldra leader detached from the hug, and kept her wife in her arms, but away enough to stare at her face.

“What happened to you??”

The Snow Queen’s weak features twitched in a smile. “I found the password, Honey…”

“What?” Blinked the brunette.

“‘Only time itself will tell’... Kronos. It was Kronos.”

Anna and Honeymaren remained silent in confusion. What the hell was she talking about?

“Kronos… The greek god of time…” Murmured Elsa with a weak, almost imperceptible voice.

She however had an obvious sly smile, and Anna blinked.

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

Had her sister gone mad? She sounded delirious.

Honeymaren, on the other hand, had connected the dots. She shook her head, as stunned as Anna, but for a different reason. She sighed at the brilliant mind of her wife.

“You’re incredible, Elsa, I swear… In all meanings of the term.”

The blonde allowed herself a grin despite her lack of strength.

“Would someone care to explain?” Frowned Anna, upset that she was missing something that clearly was important.

“The code word that would unlock the repressed memories of the previous Fifth Spirit… It was ‘Kronos’.” Said Honeymaren.

Elsa felt happy as the two people she cared the most about exchanged a gaze with huffed smiles. Though, when their eyes reverted to her, her forces left her; her eyes turned up again and she plunged back into darkness.

=======

When Elsa regained consciousness, she slowly opened her eyes, recovering her sight in blurry steps. She first saw the floating blue candle jars hovering just below the ceiling of the hut. So she was in her bed. At the idea, a feeling of warmth invaded her heart. She then saw, as her vision sharpened, Honeymaren looking at her in distress, then deep relief as she sighed when she saw her wife smile.

The brunette cuddled next to her and pressed her forehead to her temple.

“Thanks Ahtohallan, you’re alright.” She murmured.

“Actually, what happened is Ahtohallan’s fault…” Pointed out another familiar voice, filled with reproach but also concern.

Elsa’s smile went larger as she turned her face and saw her sister bent over her as well on the other side of the bed. Anna’s sarcasm left her face to quickly be replaced by happiness when she crossed her elder’s gaze.

“Hey you.”

The blonde winced. “Actually, it wasn’t entirely Ahtohallan’s fault.”

Anna sighed. “Yeah, once again you had to go to far, and now you regret it. Seriously, is she this alluring? Is the need to know the truth like a drug or something?”

Honeymaren and Elsa chuckled.

“Gotta say, the Spirits call can be breathtakingly beautiful sometimes. I can’t imagine how attractive it is when it comes from the source itself.” Admitted the Northuldra leader.

“And in addition to your dorky snoop personality…” Smirked Anna.

“Says the one who keeps asking me about gossip!” Gasped Elsa.

“Well, at least, I’m not risking my life when I ask!”

Elsa eye-rolled. The sisters grinned, and hugged each other warmly.

“You scared me a bit there.” Murmured the Queen against Elsa’s ear.

“It’s a good thing you’re used to my drama then.”

“True.”

After Anna detached from the hug, Honeymaren stared at her wife in a scolding expression.

“You really shouldn’t have done that! Don’t make me quote the song. When will you finally...”

Her frowned eyebrows suddenly shot up, the rest of her sentence vanishing in her throat as she realized what she was doing. “Oh no. I shouldn’t be angry at you. You could have died, and I’m lucky enough for you to be alive…”

Elsa’s hand quickly slid on the sheets to hold hers. “You’re my wife, Honey. That’s what married life does. You get deadly worried about the other.”

Anna winced at the word ‘deadly’.

“You care about me with all your soul, and you’re angry because you weren’t there to protect me.” Continued Elsa.

“So you agree that it was extremely dangerous.”

The blonde winced. “Yes.”

“Your hella curious personality will be your undoing, Elsa.” Grumbled Anna.

“Without my curiosity, we wouldn’t have known about Runeard’s plan!” Reminded Elsa coldly.

The two other women couldn’t deny it, and remained silent.

Honeymaren sighed in an upset way. She didn’t like how Elsa purposely went to Ahtohallan alone right when she figured the code word, because she would definitely have prevented her if she was accompanied.

She passed a hand in her wife’s hair, retrieving her smile.

“So the previous Fifth Spirit was a nerd as well, uh?”

Elsa frowned as she was sitting up with her elbows.

“Why do you say that?”

“Oh, don’t go ‘anyone could have guessed the Kronos password’. You know that none of us would have found it. Did you see memories of him making jokes about Orion’s belt?”

Elsa slapped her arm, and she grinned.

“Those jokes would be so bad that he probably put them in his repressed coded memories, though.”

She received another slap, and this one was stronger.

“Well, I’m glad to see that your regained strength.” Laughed Honeymaren, rubbing her bruises.

Elsa couldn’t help but smile, and shook her head.

“Can you stand up?” Asked Anna.

“I think I can.”

She however put her hand in Honeymaren’s stretched one, just to make sure that she wouldn’t fall if her knees buckled. Nevertheless, she could step easily through the hut, and even started to go outside. As a double reward, the Northuldra who were working near the hut turned to her and beamed to see that she was okay. Elsa smiled back, and she felt infinitely better. Now that she knew all the truth and was replenished, she felt ready to fight Victor.

“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised that Ahtohallan gifts each Fifth Spirit with sarcasm, drama and nerdiness.” Smiled Anna’s voice behind her as she and Honeymaren got out of the hut.

Elsa gave her a stare. “Don’t encourage her.”

The two women simply shrugged, amused. Though, Elsa’s sudden serious face changed the mood.

“Actually, let’s go back inside. We need to sit down.”

“Uhh, what? Are you okay?”

“I’m alright. But I have to tell you all the truth about Victor Eiglatson. And it’s best if we do it privately.”

The Northuldra and Arendelle leaders exchanged a worried glance, and followed her back inside, closing the door behind them.

Elsa then proceeded to explain that they got a lot of things wrong about him, as they sadly expected.

“He has been planning his revenge on the Fifth Spirit for years. Longer than any of us three was born.”

“This is a really spooky introduction, thank you very much.” Commented Anna, her eyes wide.

“I’ve had access to every single memory that the previous Fifth Spirit had been ashamed of and hiding, even to himself, and…”

Elsa shivered. That meant a lot coming from her. Honeymaren understood now that her weak state wasn’t only because going far in the secret past had impacted her magic; it was an emotional wreck as well.

“I’m gonna explain it from the very beginning.” Told Elsa. “So, first of all, Victor Eiglatson had a wife, called Niks.”

Her sister puffed. “How could a man like him have been married?”

Elsa gave her a stare.

“Anna, I love you with all my heart, but I’m begging you to not interrupt me until I’m finished.”

The redhead pouted in a sullen expression, and Honeymaren bit her lip with a smile. ‘Let her continue’, she said with a gaze.

“Victor and Niks both were merchants, who traveled around the country, and they both had dark magic.”

“What? How??”

“Anna…”

“Okay, okay, I’m quiet.”

Elsa resumed.

“While Victor kept it low profile, Niks kept using her dark magic for larceny. Robbery, bullying… She kept wielding her powers for evil ends. One day, they were delivering supplies to the Northuldra, and she had threatened the people during the night. The Fifth Spirit had noticed, and spied on her to see if she would do it again. He saw her doing it repetitively each night Victor and her had stayed in the camp, as they had asked for board and lodging for a week.

Two days before they left, the Northuldra leader told her that he knew what she was doing. He warned her, stating that the next time she would use her powers for such acts, he would have to punish her. She didn’t take him seriously at all. On the following night, she blackmailed a young mother and her child, saying that she would send monsters and hell on the poor family if they didn’t give her half of their crops by the next time they would do business here. The Fifth Spirit saw everything. On the morning after their departure, he followed their caravan, and…”

The Snow Queen interrupted her story. It was a bit sudden, so the others wondered what had happened.

“He…” Elsa stopped to gulped. She took a few seconds, then retrieve the needed courage. “He killed her. He killed Niks with his ice and snow magic.”

Anna and Honeymaren let out synchronized gasps. Anna’s hand flew to her mouth. Elsa closed her eyes and lowered her head.

“I saw everything. I mean, it was in ice statues form, but… Still. And as he used the same magic than I do, I could almost… Feel what I saw. He impaled her in one go.”

Honeymaren’s throat tightened, a ball forming in her throat, and she guessed that it was the same for Elsa. She placed a tender hand on her shoulder, and the blonde squeezed it tenderly. After a breathe in, she continued.

“Victor saw everything. He was boiling with sorrow and rage. He wanted to kill the Fifth Spirit right away, but he froze his lower body and walked away, returning to the camp. He said that it was what needed to be done.”

Elsa’s hands had returned in her lap, and she clenched her fists nervously.

“He didn’t even apologize. Victor had spend the day screaming and shouting until the ice melted with the heat of the sun. Once it had vanished, he realized that he had to bury his wife properly before setting off to the camp to murder the Northuldra leader. On her tombstone, he swore to avenge her, and built a plan. Only, when he came to the Forest days later…”

She looked up at the ceiling, like she could see the sky from where they were.

“The mist had fallen.”

She shrugged sadly. “He tried all he could, poured all his magic into his efforts, but it was in vain. As you know, only Anna and I can open the mist. Only the Bridge can. Only the Fifth Spirit can. And the Fifth Spirit… Had just died in turn.”

Elsa looked at the wall absentmindedly as she remembered the ice statues. “Victor learned about his death through rumors as he came back to the kingdom. He noticed how some soldiers were hateful towards the Northuldra, and he enrolled in the army to train for the day the mist would lift. He planned and planned and planned, and his dark magic got better and darker each passing year. The only thing that separated him from his revenge was a wall of smoke.”

Her eyes lifted to Anna. “Years later, he learned that I was the Fifth Spirit. In fact, that we both technically were. He started to shout to everyone that we did not deserve to be Queens of Arendelle for that reason. You know the rest. He got sent to prison for such words, but he escaped with magic. His goo monsters slipped through the bars really easily…”

She once again couldn’t help but let out a little bit of admiration for his creations, despite some disgust.

“It was less than a month ago. He had trained a lot since. But… Despite hating the Fifth Spirit with all his soul, and his promise to avenge his wife’s death... He actually doesn’t plan to kill me.”

Honeymaren gave her a look that meant ‘Let me guess, it’s way worse?’

“His goal is to rip my magic out of me.”

The two other woman widened their eyes in utter astonishment. And to make things worse, Elsa kept going.

“He cleverly thought of that because with his research, he understood that the Fifth Spirit reincarnation is a cycle. Ahtohallan gives the ice and snow powers to a new person each time the previous dies, for them to be the only one to read her memories. And if he kills me, the chain would not stop, it would simply continue. However, by absorbing my magic, his revenge will be complete.”

Anna had at least a hundred of questions burning her lips at Elsa’s statements. Yet, the elder lifted a finger.

“Wait, that’s not all; I also saw a memory on his frieze that wasn’t there the last time we checked it with Honeymaren. It was the most recent one. From this afternoon.”

She gave a pause, and gulped. “He’s planning to attack Ahtohallan’s tonight, and rot it to the core with his goo magic.”

The two women let out the same gasp, quickly replaced by a deep groan. No one would touch Elsa, and no one would touch Ahtohallan. For Anna, the magic glacier was the source of her magic and who she was and had allowed her to be fully proud of her identity. For Honeymaren, it was this and even more; Ahtohallan was her deity, a representant of the sacred laws of Nature, and she would never let anyone profane the entity that the Northuldra worshipped since forever.

“We’ve got to unite all of our forces and prevent him from crossing the Dark Sea.” Stated Elsa with emotion.

A silence fell, and she looked at them with sad eyes.

Anna didn’t dare to react verbally yet.

“Uhm… Are you finished?”

Elsa sighed. “Gosh, I hope so. Yeah, you can talk.”

“Well, I don’t even know where to start.” Exhaled the Queen.

“The only thing I retain from all of these news is that I call dibs on the first shot to Victor’s heart.” Grumbled Honeymaren, fire in her hazelnut eyes.

“Honey, no.” Calmed Elsa. “Violence is not the solution. I mean, of course we’re going to fight him with all our forces, don’t look at me like that, but we’re not going to kill him. This is not who we are. He’s the murderer, not us. He will have to face justice.”

Honeymaren sighed in a pout. Elsa was right.

“M’kay.”

She didn’t seem so convinced, but admitted that shooting arrows at a human’s heart wasn’t really the way to show a good example.

Anna passed a hand in her hair, and tucked it behind her ear. “So… People with magic can… Rip magic out of other magic people?”

Elsa gave her a sad look. “I didn’t even know it was possible until today. And I’ve been exploring the abilities of my magic since the Great Thaw, so for nearly 20 years. Never would I have thought that I could extract magic out of someone’s soul…”

A silence floated in the room. Honeymaren and Anna exchanged a gaze, not daring to ask the question. Finally, Anna did.

“And… Do you think that you…”

“No. I would never do that. I don’t want to learn how to do it, and I never want to do it.” Stated Elsa, her voice firm and strong.

Her azure blue eyes had been so intense that the two other women got stunned by it, then they had grateful smiles. Elsa had god tier powers, but never would she commit such an act.

However, guilt roamed the Snow Queen’s body as she remembered that the previous Fifth Spirit, on the other hand, had come to a decision of this gravity.

She looked down as she passed her hands on her arms, curling a bit on herself. “First my grandfather… Now him… I’m tied to criminals.”

“Don’t say that!” Exclaimed Anna.

“He killed, Anna. My previous incarnation killed someone.”

“He’s not you. You are not defined by his action. You’re you own person, even if you have identical powers. You’re no evil, Elsa. Do you hear me?”

The redhead had been grabbing her sister’s arms for impact, but also to make her stop cowering.

“You’re literally the most gentle, nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Elsa blinked sadly. Honeymaren nodded firmly next to Anna, and passed a soft hand in her hair and along her face.

“Yes, you are, snømus. Would I have made a murderer my wife? I don’t think so.”

A snort escaped Elsa’s sad lips.

With the way her sister and lover were holding her, she could cry instantly, so humor was a good way to prevent that. She took a long inhale, and stood up.

“Yes, it’s no time to get emotional. Victor is cruel and reckless. Tonight we face him with all that we got.”

The Snow Queen walked to the entrance of the hut, opened it, and turned around to face the two women who looked at her in undeniable awe. With the light passing by the wood slits and the candles projecting blue hues on her face, she looked like a fierce Valkyrie on the warpath.

She gave their stunned faces a big grin.

“Let’s suit on.”

A second of impressed silence fell. Anna let out an amazed puff. “Waow, look at who’s all confident about conflict now. Who are you and what have you done with my forever insecure sister?”

The blonde gave her a judging look. She had just ruined her epic attitude.

“I’m not saying that negatively.” Assured the younger. “Only… Damn, you’ve become such a badass. What happened to you?”

Honeymaren put a hand on Anna’s shoulder.

“She married me.”

Elsa smirked.

=======

Anna helped Eydis to put her armor on, then Elsa helped Anna with hers. Sometimes, the redhead had so snap her sister back to reality, because she was admiring the beauty of some steel pieces and taking a lot of breaks.

“Elsa, you’ll get plenty of time to admire my armor once I have it entirely on.”

“Yeah, sorry. Am I too slow?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s actually touching that you love it so much. I like to have your opinion on those kind of things. But right now, I’m starting to lose my balance.”

Elsa hurried to place her boot correctly. She then asked for Anna to turn around to tighten her brigandine. Anna had a proud grin as she stood with her hands on her hips while Elsa was busy.

“With it, there’s no way those monster’s dark slime will touch my skin.”

She was about to turn to look at Elsa, when an annoying noise came from her neck. “Damn, my gorget keeps squeaking. Can you do something about it?”

Elsa turned once she was done with the bodice.

“Well, my magic may do a lot of miracles, however ice and snow are everything but oily. So I’m afraid I can’t.”

“I was talking about actual grease, dummy. Do you have some?”

“Oh. Yes.”

Anna smiled as Elsa went to get some in the shed. It was funny how, long ago, the Snow Queen would never have dared to use her magic for anything, and now it was her default option.

“A Northuldra is using it next door, he will bring it back. Apparently, Kristoff have the same problem.” Smiled Elsa. “I know it’s a good sign, but when was the last time you two wore armors?”

“It’s not that it’s rusty”, defended Anna. “They are pure work of art from Arendellian’s best craft people. But they need some… Restoration?”

The blonde grinned. She kept helping her sister place the armor’s pieces one by one, picking them up from the chest where only hers had remained. Her smile faded when she saw how red Anna’s face had gotten when she lifted the faulds and was about to place them.

“What is it? You seem uncomfortable.”

Anna looked away with a little pout. “It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s something. Your freckles almost are disappearing under your blush. What’s wrong?”

The Queen looked at the faulds. “They’re very large, aren’t they?”

Elsa blinked in incomprehension. “Uhh… Yeah, they’re meant to go around the waist and hips to protect them. So, by definition, they are.”

“No, I mean…”

She was unable to finish her sentence. Elsa frowned as she tried to understand. “You mean your hips and waist are very large.”

Anna looked away again, and nodded silently. The Snow Queen put away the faults in a brisk move, which the redhead interpreted as revulsion. That’s why she was confused when both her hands got seized in hers.

“Anna, look at me.”

The redhead had startled at the touch, and she turned to her sister. “What?”

“You can’t possibly be saying that you don’t like your body, right?”

The teal blue eyes went down. “So you agree. You think I’m fat too.”

“Oh Ahtohallan, no, Anna, hey, look at me.”

She quitted holding her hands to place soft palms against her cheeks. Anna looked at her, and she was on the verge of crying.

A silence passed, and Elsa’s gaze switched from one eye to the other.

“What if you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“What if you’re fat?” Said Elsa.

Anna blinked. It surprised her so much that her tears went away.

“Yeah, what if you’re fat. Does it matter?” Asked Elsa.

The redhead blabbered. “Well, of course it does!”

“No it doesn’t. Stop me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that Kristoff has seen you naked a couple of times or more, didn’t he?” She asked, half-teasing.

Anna blushed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Did he ever say anything negative about your body? In 10 years of marriage?”

“I… No, quite the opposite.” Muttered Anna. “But he could be lying.”

“Oh. Sure. So, allow me to ask: when was the last time Kristoff has ever lied to you?”

Anna was speechless. Why was Elsa so good at this? How did she knew exactly which arguments do use? How did she knew precisely what Anna had to be reassured about? The elder sister brushed her cheek with her thumbs to take her out of her thoughts.

“Anna. You gave birth to two beautiful, amazing children. Your body changed from that. There is nothing more normal in the entire world. Nature gave you the space to bear children.”

As if those touching words weren’t enough to wreck Anna’s entire soul, Elsa’s left hand went to Anna’s lower belly. “You carried life. Life is the most beautiful thing in the world. Don’t you think that life deserves as much space as possible? And you carried it with love. Love is the most important thing in the world. Don’t you think that love also deserves as much space as possible?”

The redhead’s lips trembled, and she could barely talk as they stretched in a smile.

“Y-- Yes.”

“Then cherish each and every single ounce of your body that fills that space today.”

Anna’s eyes closed and her tears fell, then she launched herself in Elsa’s arms for a tight hug. It was truly tight with her armor, but the blonde couldn’t care less. She closed her eyes as her little sister’s doubts faded away, and she could almost feel how lighter her soul was.

“Thank you so much, I… I…”

Anna had troubles breathing, and gasped over her shoulder.

“Hey, take your time. It’s okay.” Elsa said gently, rubbing the back of her hair.

Anna soon detached from the hug to rub her tears and sniff. “I should stop crying though, or this armor really will get rusty.”

Elsa smiled. The Queen stared at her resolutely.

“You know, you often say it for yourself, but I swear that I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Nonsense. You rule a kingdom. And are the most admired monarch of Arendelle’s history.”

A silence passed, and they looked at each other with sighs, until Anna stopped sniffing. Elsa picked the iron piece from where she had left it.

“Now, can I please put your faulds on?”

“Yes.”

They kept going with smiles, continuing component after component.

“Can you promise me you won’t tell anyone about what just happened?”

Elsa smirked.

“Sure, don’t worry. I’ll take your secret to the greave.”

Anna stared at her sister, then down at the piece of armor she was holding around her leg, then stared at her again, and this time in a judging way.

“Was that a pun?”

Elsa wheezed, not able to retain herself. “It was a good one, admit it!”

“I can’t freaking believe that my sister just made a joke about a grave. Oh my gods. Hey, stop laughing. No, don’t fall to the floor. Elsa!! Put the greave back on my… Ugh. You’re impossible!!”

She grunted as she placed the piece herself, shaking her head at her elder’s giggles. With the shake, the gorget squeaked, which made Elsa howl with laughter even more. Actually, the blonde’s laugh was so contagious that Anna laughed as well.

“That really was an awful joke. I hereby declare, Queen Anna of Arendelle, that you are not allowed to enter the kingdom’s territory anymore. We don’t tolerate this bad humor.”

Elsa snorted. “Oh, come on. Everyone knows how acclaimed I am in Arendelle. People would riot if they don’t hear my stupid jokes from time to time.”

Anna sighed dramatically. “Granted.”

“You wouldn’t get rid of me that easily anyway.” Smirked Elsa.

Anna kept going on her drama.

“I know. That’s my burden. Being stuck with you as my sister for my whole life.”

She turned to the door when she heard Eydis come in the hut to pick her gauntlets.

“Eydis, could you come over here please?”

“Why?” Frowned the princess, wondering what her mother was talking about from behind the changing screen.

“Would you grab your mace and kill me? I can’t stand Elsa anymore.”

The girl knew her mother’s ramblings enough to understand that she was joking, and didn’t even lift her head from the gauntlets she was tying up at her wrists.

“Sure. Do you want to be knocked on the head or in the face?”

The sisters laughed.

“Gosh, she’s a future mercenary.” Chuckled Elsa.

“She’s actually aiming for ice harvester mixed with sailor.” Shrugged Anna.

Soon, they were finished. “Come on, let’s go outside so I can admire it in the sunlight.” Beamed the Snow Queen.

=======

“So now you’re the one in need of a tissue. Do you need one?” Grinned Anna. “We probably packed some.”

Elsa breathed in and out heavily as she blinked to chase her emotional tears.

“You just look… So great, in this, Anna. I’m…”

She let out a noise that was a mix of a gasp and a squeal. “I’m really proud of you.”

The Queen of Arendelle smiled widely at the compliment. “Thank you, sis.”

Anna’s armor was entirely polished with a matte golden color, and it made her look like a stunning legend. The absence of reflections gave her a serious aura and the detailed finishing touches showcased her. Each joint of the metal and seam of the reinforced garment were engraved and embroidered with ivy motives. On both of her shoulder pieces were drawn Arendelle crocuses, one in green and one in purple. Her plackart proudly displayed the kingdom’s flag, and it married perfectly with the gold color of the whole outfit.

Gods, was it hard for Elsa to not burst into tears at the whole sight.

She approached to wrap her arms around the redhead. It was rare that Elsa was the one to initiate embraces, so it meant a lot to Anna, and it warmed her heart.

When they finished hugging, Elsa held the face of her little sister in her hands, sniffing at her beauty. “You’ve become a wonderful woman, Anna. A passionate Queen, a devoted mother, and a hero with a heart of gold.”

The redhead snorted modestly. “You’ve only seen me in that armor for like, two minutes.”

Elsa shrugged. “And yet, I can attest you that you would look way better on a Joan of Arc style portrait than I’ll ever do.”

Her younger laughed. “This might be the best compliment in the world.”

“Looking really good, Anna!” Approved a voice behind them, and they turned to see Honeymaren with a thumb up.

Anna giggled and thanked her with a comical curtsey.

“I’ll join you in a moment, I’m gonna suit up too.” Informed the Northuldra.

“Okay.”

She disappeared in the armory hut, and the Snow Queen smiled when her eyes landed on the redhead again. “With Kristoff and Eydis, you three look absolutely amazing. This really looks like the Arendelle flag was brought to life.”

Anna smiled. “Let’s hope that it will fly forever, then.”

The exchanged a gaze, their eyes sparkling with emotion.

Elsa looked over to where Kristoff and Eydis had been standing, and the sisters spent a long time talking about the specificities of each. Kristoff’s one definitely was a mix of a knight armor and an ice harvester outfit, while Eydis’ one seemed like a miniature of her mother’s, but in silver. With her blonde hair, she was really pretty. All the armors, in their own way, demonstrated how talented Arendelle’s craftspeople were.

“I like how we got those armors made to measure.” Said Anna. “It allows easy movements, while it assures efficient protection.”

“Yeah, it’s…”

The blonde’s answer vanished in her throat. Elsa suddenly disconnected from reality as she stared behind Anna, but it was like she was staring at nothing. Or rather, at something divine.

“Hey, are you with me?” Said her sister, snapping her fingers in front of her eyes. “Did your brain fry in Ahtohallan or what?”

Elsa didn’t respond. With a frown, Anna turned around to follow her gaze, and when she saw Honeymaren step out of the hut, it was like the Forest itself had stopped its activity to stare in awe.

The brunette was wearing a traditional war outfit only wore by Northuldra leaders, and it suddenly became very clear to Anna why Elsa hadn’t been able to make words. Anyone had to admit that Honeymaren was giving a stunning impression with that attire. Anna’s jaw dropped when the brunette took a few steps outside and looked over the tribe with a stare that made her aura matching the one of a falcon, except that her eyes were filled with pride and care for her people. The redhead then realized that she was looking for Elsa among the crowd that was staring at her, and when she finally recognized the platinum blonde woman behind Anna, her satisfied smile went larger in a beam. She made her way to her, and the Queen wondered if Honeymaren was ready to see up close the ravenous look that Elsa was giving her, and if Elsa was strong enough to not faint right when the leader would be breathing near her.

With amusement, Anna’s eyes darted from one woman to the other, and it was certain now that Elsa had never seen Honeymaren wearing that outfit. Which made sense, given the current peaceful times.

It was a mix of a tunic and an armor made of hard leather. The latter fabric clearly had been reinforced with an unusual thickness that was reserved to battle gear, and Anna was impressed by the details that however had been drawn on it. How much time did the Northuldra have spent on this? It required a lot of expertise and talent for a tribe that only used manual tools. Several bands of lighter leather crossed Honeymaren’s torso and fell from her shoulders to land on her hips, both holding her weapons and assuring that the flexible armor would stay in place. A large band of thick leather crossed the leader’s belly and juxtaposed her traditional belt, to which was still attached her usual dagger. Beautiful darker pieces were covering her forearms so she could easily protect herself from the blows, and Anna noticed the sames on her thighs and shins, tied above her tunic. Her left wrist was protected on the inside as well, the leather also serving as a guard to avoid any injury when archery is involved. The outfit was objectively magnificent with all its practical yet sophisticated pieces, all dyed with different natural colors that made it soar. Some were pitch black, others a deep brown interlaced with ochre bands - which highlighted her chestnut eyes - and others, especially her tunic, were bright beige.

Honeymaren had completed the outfit with her bow in her back and her quiver at her waist, and it looked like she was ready to slay. In fact, Anna was almost considering the idea to let her go to battle on her own and take care of everything. Who could stand up to her?

Elsa let out a noise when her wife arrived to her level, and it betrayed the fact that she had forgotten to breathe for a moment.

“H-- Hey-y… You.”

Both Anna and Honeymaren bit their lips to hide their giggle at Elsa’s rare fluster. For a very articulate person, she seemed to have lost all her vocabulary.

“H-Honey…”

She tried to say a full sentence, but was simply unable to.

Bruni trotted nearby and squeaked, and Anna smirked. Was it to admire the Northuldra leader and compliment her outfit, or to check that the Fifth Spirit wasn’t on fire?

“Are you okay?” Grinned Honeymaren, teasing, though a bit concerned. Now wasn’t the time for Elsa to faint again.

“I-- I’m beautiful. I mean… I’m not... I’m super-- I’m great.”

Anna giggled, but she managed to hide it behind her palm. Elsa was too busy staring deeply at her lover to even notice it.

“Breathe, love.” Smiled Honeymaren, passing her hand along the blonde’s cheek.

One could think that this would make her arousal even deeper, but the brunette actually succeeded in taking Elsa out of her transe. She gulped as she retrieved her normal behavior.

“Yeah, uhm… Uh… Let’s get ready, shall we?”

She coughed and turned around, inviting the others to follow her.

“Auntie, what will you wear for battle?” Inquired Eydis, running a bit to go walk next to her, her mace bouncing on her shoulder.

Her little eyes were sparkling as she imagined the most amazing armor possible. Elsa recovered from her fluster and looked at her niece with a smirk.

“Why, my work outfit of course.”

As she walked, and there was no need for her to stop nor slow down, she flicked her wrists up in unison. Gusts and twirls of glittering magic appeared from her palms and went in two ways. One move went down from her wrists and added layers of protection to the casual white tunic she had been wearing. The other move went up like embers of ice that floated in the air, which then deposited on her bright white outfit like petals. The magical dust formed new shapes on her shoulders, knees, chest, belly, hips and shins, creating the most perfect ice armor. It couldn’t be more custom-made, and it obeyed each and every motion she made, being comfortable and ergonomic. It also was incredibly beautiful with its breathtaking details and decorations, once again reminding the four other Spirits. Most of the parts were diamond-shaped. Despite the whole piece of art it made, its transparency didn’t fool anyone; the armor was sturdy, if not more than regular ones. Elsa admired her own work.

“...With a few additions, I’ll admit.” She smiled.

Honeymaren’s chestnut eyes got lost at the sight, having not missed any of the show while she walked on Elsa’s other side. That was, for the lack of any other word, a divine transformation. Her eyes filled with tears. Were they due to emotion or because the outfit was bright white and gave the feeling to stare at the full Moon herself? She blinked to dissimulate them.

“Not very stealthy, but I guess what we’ll have to deal with it.” Shrugged Honeymaren, to joke about it and switch her mood.

She giggled when she received a white-covered elbow nudging her ribs.

Elsa shook her head, then looked at the horizon. Her gaze now was more focused than ever.

“Okay, Victor. You wanted to face me? I’m not alone anymore. Here we come.”

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juliandev0rak · 4 years

Text

Holidays 🌟🍿

Twelve: Holidays – did they celebrate any special holidays/events? What was their favorite?

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes

Cam Giardini, they/ them

Western Venterre

13 years before the events of The Arcana, Cam is 12

Words: ~1800

Warnings: none

Note: Cam has eight siblings and it might get a bit confusing, so here’s a list of the important ones for this fic!

Cassia: 18

Calla: 16

Calanthe: 14

“Cam, let’s go!” Calla calls.

“Coming! Just a second!” Cam replies, trying to lace up their boots as quickly as possible.

“If you don't hurry up we’ll leave you behind.” Calanthe says snarkily, popping her head around the corner of the bedroom door.

“I’m coming, hold your horses.” Cam grumbles, now searching for their discarded cloak in a pile of clothing on the floor. They finally manage to find it and throw it on as they run down the stairs into the foyer where their siblings are waiting.

“Finally.” Their older sister Cassia mutters, walking through the front door without a backward glance. Calla walks over and links her arm with Cam’s, giving them a reassuring smile.

“Are you excited?” She asks, the two of them trailing behind the group as they leave the house.

“Of course!” Cam says, “It’s the best night of the year!”

It’s the night of the annual harvest festival, the one night a year that Cam actually enjoys living in their small farming town. Their parents, and a few siblings, have been in town all day setting up their family’s stand. There are sure to be plenty of exciting stalls to visit, Cam is looking forward to eating all the sweets they can get their hands on. The festival features food, shopping, and plenty of entertainment and Cam is ready to experience it all.

As their gaggle of siblings approach the bright lights of the town center Calla pulls Cam forward towards the excitement. There's music in the air and the smell of spices and Cam barely knows where to start. The rest of their siblings disperse into the festival and it's just Cam and Calla left staring at the inviting scene before them.

“Come on! Let’s go look at the stalls!” Calla grins, still pulling Cam along. They wander through the festival taking in all of the sights and sounds, stopping at various stalls to grab popcorn or cocoa. The weather isn’t too cold, but the beginning of autumn is near and Cam is glad for their warm drink. They spot their siblings around the festival, but luckily all of them are engaged enough in the festival to stop harassing them for a night.

Calla is excellent company, she asks Cam’s opinions about the trinkets she finds at the stalls and reminisces about past festivals, always managing to bring Cam into the conversation. With Calla, Cam feels like they matter. This is the last festival they’ll be attending for a while, their parents have finally gotten in touch with their Aunt Angela in Vesuvia, and she was willing to take Cam on as an apprentice. It had been Calla’s idea to ask, and Cam had been overjoyed when their parents agreed. They’ve been counting down the days ever since, and after tonight there’s only a week left to go.

Calla’s attention turns to a jewelry stall and Cam turns to watch the crowd. All night there have been various musicians playing jaunty music while the crowd danced, but now it seems there’s a different entertainer. Cam takes a step towards the crowd to get a better look and is surprised to see a magician on the small stage. The magician smiles as she lifts her hands towards the crowd and throws sparkling light ups in the air, manipulating them into various shapes, a firework show made of magic.

Cam watches entranced as the show continues, working their way through the crowd until they’re at the front of the stage. The magician weaves their light into miraculous forms, prancing horses and couples dancing, even delicate snowflakes which rain down over the crowd. The crowd oohs and ahhs, applauding after every display of magic. Finally, the magician pauses and turns to look out at the crowd.

“For my next trick, I’ll need a volunteer.” She calls, eyes sweeping over the mass of people.

“Ooh pick them!” A voice calls from behind Cam and they’re surprised as someone grabs their arm and lifts it into the air. It’s their older sister Calanthe. “My sibling is a magician.” She sneers, saying the word magician like it’s a curse. The crowd snickers, most of the town knows of Cam’s magic and their many failures. For as many spells as Cam has mastered, there are at least a hundred failed attempts.

“Oh yes, pick Cam, we’d all love to see what they can do next to a real magician.” Cam’s sister Cassia calls mockingly, stepping out from the crowd. Cam flushes and ducks their head, wishing they could just disappear. Of course their siblings had to ruin their night somehow. The magician looks at the crowd where more people are calling out to be volunteers and her eyes settle on Cam whose attempts to get their arm free from their sister’s grasp have been unsuccessful.

“You’re a magician?” She calls, not seeming to notice the taunting exchange that had just happened, “In that case you’d be the perfect volunteer, come on up here!”

“Go on Cammy, show everyone how talented you are.” Calanthe smiles cruelly, still gripping their arm.

“Let me go!” Cam cries. Calla appears at their side just in time and pulls Calanthe off of them.

“You don’t have to go up there Cam, let’s just leave.” Calla says, scowling over Cam’s shoulder at their laughing sisters.

“No. I’ll show them how talented I am.” Cam clenches their jaw in determination, a hand going to rub their sore arm where Calanthe had been gripping them.

“Come on up!” The magician calls again, encouragingly holding a hand out to help them up onto the stage.

“If you're sure,” Calla says, “Then go up there and show those… those... bitches!”

Calla never swears, she’s kind and gentle to even the rudest of people, so her use of a swear word shocks Cam into action. They smile confidently and nod at their sister, “I’ll try Calla.”

They take the magicians offered hand and stand up on the wooden stage, trying not to pay attention to how large the crowd is.

“Alright! We’ve got our volunteer!” The magician calls, “Now, I need you to catch this light when I throw it to you, it should be pretty easy for a magician.” Cam nods and holds their hands out, ready to catch whatever is thrown at them.

They can still hear the crowd below them and their older sisters heckling, but Cam tries to tune them out. The magician conjures an orb of blue light and tosses it like a ball, Cam catches it in the air between their palms. They feel the light wanting to pull away but they focus their energy and hold it suspended.

The crowd stops chattering and watches in silence as Cam decides what to do with the orb of light now that they have it. Perhaps they should toss it back? Or maybe they should turn it into something else, Cam thinks, remembering the magician’s light show. They close their eyes and focus on the magical energy they feel in their hands and coursing through their body. They picture the magic flowing from the orb of light, imagining the channels of light moving through their veins and out to the rest of their body. Cam learns later that the magic actually had flowed through them like that and the crowd had been speechless as they watched the glowing threads of light turn Cam’s skin a glowing blue.

They focus on the orb and imagine the shape they want it to take, the colors they want it to turn. Finally, Cam takes a deep breath and releases the light, opening their eyes to watch as it flies over the crowd. The light transforms slowly, changing from blue to red and elongating from a concentrated orb into the shape Cam had imagined. All at once the light shifts and turns into a dragon which swoops low over the crowd and breathes fire-colored light.

The reaction is instantaneous and the whole crowd bursts into surprised applause. The dragon makes another sweep over the town center before dissipating into sparkling light. The magician claps Cam on the back and says “Well done, that was some impressive magic!” and Cam beams, catching Calla’s eye in the crowd.

“That was amazing, Cam!” Calla says as Cam steps back into the crowd.

“I didn't think I’d pull that off to be honest.” Cam laughs, accepting the bag of caramel corn that their sister hands to them. It’s their favorite treat that the festival has to offer, but the best treat of the evening is watching Calanthe and Cassia staring at them in annoyance, finally rendered speechless. The older girls turn to leave and Cam smiles, they think maybe they’ll leave them alone for the rest of the night.

“You’re so talented.” Calla smiles, reaching into her bag. “I got you something else!”

“Ooh Calla, you shouldn't have! I know you were saving your allowance for that telescope.” Cam says, thinking fondly of their sister’s affinity for the night sky.

“It’s ok, you can just read the stars for me until I can buy it.” Calla laughs, holding out her hand. In her palm is a simple silver necklace with a dark blue gem hanging from the chain. “I got one too, so we can match.”

“Calla it’s beautiful!” Cam exclaims, gingerly holding the necklace up to the light.

“I’m not sure the gem is real, you know how the vendors here are.. but I thought it would match your eyes.” Calla grins, reaching to put her own matching necklace on.

“It matches our eyes.” Cam replies, feeling very touched.

“I’m glad we got to spend at least one more harvest festival together.” Calla says, pulling Cam into a hug. “I’m going to miss you. Ohh! I think I spot Calanthe and Cassia in the corn maze, should we go scare them?”

“Yes, I really think we should!” Cam grins in excitement and the two rush off together, arm in arm.

In the lonely years to come when Cam finds themself missing home they grab for their necklace and remember Calla’s sweet smile. They hope Calla is thinking of them too. Cam never takes the necklace off, and it’s the first thing they reach for when Asra brings them back after the plague without even knowing why.

The memory of that last festival night lingers in their memory, syrupy sweet food and the smell of hay, the way it felt to feel respected and confident in their abilities. The harvest festival has always been their favorite, and though Cam never returns to Venterre again to see it, the stone they wear around their neck tells the story of that early autumn night.

#arcana eotp #apprentice cam #lots of cam stuff coming up because their birthday is this week!#i love writing for them so this was fun #enjoy the venterrean harvest festival #cam certainly did #ooh get em calla

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stardancerluv · 4 years

Text

Off on an Andventure with Roman Sionis

Part 1

Summary: Unexpected trip!

Warning: none Arthur’s Note: a serious step in direction of Reader and Roman becoming what they are later.

It had been a dismal spring. It cold and rain. Barely any sun, which for Gotham was normal but right now you were feeling particularly cooped up.

Sitting back from your drafting table you were sketching for some pieces to build up your portfolio. You had a few jobs in the fire but one was on vacation, the other was in Arkham. Both of them promised to get things started with you the first moment they had the chance.

Sighing, you looked around your studio. The spray-paint had long since painted over, your bolts of fabrics were tided up but sometimes a chill came over you being there. Maybe you should let Roman, help you find a new place. That could be the change you needed. And perhaps the busy work of it would help him.

You had noticed Roman had felt that way too. He had been pacing the penthouse and the club more than usual. Of course, the construction in the penthouse, was probably not helping his mood. His usual massages and even acupuncture treatments had not helped.

Harley was working on his last nerve these last few days, tonight instead of her causing a scene it might be him.

You would wear something pretty to distract him. You knew how much he loved being a good host, the best host. You did want that little annoyance getting the better of him.

Going, upstairs you changed into one of your favorite summer dresses. It was a cute retro cut, a style you had always enjoyed but this particular cut, Roman convinced you to try and it had turned out to be a great.

The light blue of this dress was like a sunny day! Letting, your hair down, and combed it out. You smiled at your reflection, you turned feeling lovely you took the next taxi to Roman’s.

*****

“Zsasz, where is she?” Roman paced, and shook his head. “Go and put our suitcases in the car.”

Zsasz, shrugged his shoulders. “Sure boss.”

Roman, looked down at his watch. What possibly could be keeping you. At least he had thought ahead. He packed the items, of yours here that he liked and bought all the rest. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging a little in frustration. Going, to his bar he poured himself a scotch. He inhaled it. Leaning, there he debated about whether he should pour himself another.

Normally, he would have already have flown down. Most likely he’s lounging either on the beach or pool. He was grateful to have set that meeting. It was one of his biggest suppliers for alcohol and the finest foods.

He needed to get out of town! He also knew that you needed it too. You had been so on edge as of late.

Joker, had been really annoying you. One of these nights he could see him finally saying something and you would lose your cool. Which, to be honest it amused him. You were always so calm. You calmed him better than Zsasz ever did.

Maybe on the way to the airport, they’d swing by your studio. He knew that sometimes, you’d turn off your phone and work. That was probably why you had not called back of showed up.

The elevator dinged announcing it’s arrival. Breaking, into his thoughts. A pair of clicking heels, made a smile spread across his face. You were finally here! Now all of you could leave.

Coming out into the hall, seeing you he was very happy. He went up, easily lifted you and twirled you about. “Hi baby, about time!” He lowered you down. He pressed a kiss into your cheek. “Let’s go! Zsasz is putting the suitcases in the car.” He leaned over and pushed the button, it dinged and wrapping an arm around your waist he ushered you back into the elevator. Reaching into his pocket, he slipped his sunglasses on with a contented sigh. Time for a vacation of sorts to begin.

“Roman, it is so wonderful to see you this happy. But..” you grimaced. “what going on? I’m confused.”

“Baby, we’re about to fly off.”

“What?”

“I have a super important meeting and I’m bringing you with me!” He squeezed your hip. This was a big step for him, and he was incredibly excited if he really admitted it to himself that he was happy you would be at his side.

“Oh, this is great we need to get out of here!”

He smiled at you. “That was my thinking.”

Soon, they were down in the garage. “Get in the car baby, I need a word with Zsasz. He gave your bottom a pat.

Zsasz, was putting the last suitcase into the trunk.

“Zsas,” He took his glasses off. “Tell me something. Why did, Y/N not know about is leaving? I figured she would have at least checked her phone on the way here.”

Zsasz, he saw grow serious and grim. “Boss?”

“Yes.”

“I was so distracted by the suddenness of this. That I...umm forgot to message her.” He pressed his lips together, scratching the back of his head as he looked away.

“Zsasz...” Anger boiled up but then be swallowed it down and exhaled. It was a good thing they were about to leave. The rushing of the blood in his head calmed and slowed again. He inhaled before speaking. “Alright. We all make mistakes. She is here now and we can leave.”

“I’m sorry, boss.” He could see his regret.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

He turned and scooted into the Rolls beside you. He squeezed your thigh. “We will have a great time.” He said as Zsasz, came and closed the door.

*****

“Now as for you needing stuff.” He said to you, while he walked through the private part of the airport that led to the private jet. It belonged to his family. And he was grateful he could use it without fuss.

“Roman...” You cut him off in your excitement. “I could have packed super fast.”

He smirked and looked at you, his eyebrows raised above his sunglasses.

“What?”

“Baby, when I didn’t hear from you.” He tilted his head to one side smirking. “I went shopping. I bought you everything you could possibly need.”

“What!”

“I am sure you will love what I chose for you.” He smiled. “And we can always go shopping down there.”

The smile you gave him made him feel good. In this last two weeks of absolute frustration and irritation he realized more that he did enjoy having you about.

“Thank you, Roman.”

“Baby, nothing is too good for you.”

*****

Shock filled, never would you have expected this today. You glanced all around, this private portion of the airport. You had never seen it before.

You stopped for a moment, as you saw the plane. “Roman?” You swallowed.

He made a dismissive gesture. “Belongs to the family. Usually can’t always just use it. But my father is actually on good terms with this one particular partner of mine. So no issues, for once.”

“Ahh...well I...I..thank you for bringing me.” You gushed as he let you go up the steps to board first. You looked back down at him.

He smirked at you. “You think I could replace this view?” He chuckled. “Baby, you’re my girl. You’re the only one I want me with me.”

Zsasz, coughed behind Roman.

“We want you there too.” Roman, added. “You and I will some good hands at poker down there.”

“I’ve learned some new tricks, boss.”

“We’ll see about that.” Roman chuckled.

Getting up there then, Roman helped you to where the two of you would be seeing.

You looped your arm with his. “Roman, I am so excited. I’ve never done anything like this.” You kissed his cheek.

He took his sunglasses off and put them on the table in front of the two of you. “Get used to it. I got big plans, baby.”

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obession @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @whyisgmora @theblackmaskclub @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @top-rumbelle-fan @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @rosionis @queenofgotham800 @brookisbi @peachthatdrinkslemonade @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @guns-n-marvel @starwarsslytherin @proffesionalclown @chogisss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching

#roman sionis x you #roman sionis pov #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis #ewan mcgregor #black mask x y/n #black mask #black mask fanfiction #black mask x you #black mask x reader #part 1 #off on an andventure with roman sionis

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holidaywishes · 4 years

Text

It Had To Be You XLVIII

Chapter Forty Eight: Ruin My Life/Messages From Her

Summary: It’s been two days since you and Tyler were together and you try to Face Time him but Karen interferes.

Warning: hmm.. hopefully some fluff?

Author’s Note: So, this is another relatively short chapter but the next chapter is pretty long and it’s.. a lot. To say the least. I cried when I wrote most of it so it’s quite a ride and an interesting way to go. I hope you enjoy this small reprieve in these last two chapters from the angst to come and the angst that has been. So the title for this one is a choice, depending on how the mood you have while reading the chapter. I love both songs so much but they’re such different vibes and they both fit with the feel of the chapter. Ruin My Life is a bit more upbeat and cute while Messages From Her has that kind of melancholy, angsty feeling that the series has. So, I leave the song and the chapter title up to you for this one -- sort of like a choose your own adventure! I hope you enjoy it either way!

Song Credit: Ruin My Life -- Zara Larsson/Messages From Her -- Sabrina Claudio

masterlist

the other masterlist

It was Canada Day, which meant it was one day until you would be walking down the aisle to marry the love of your life. You and Tyler had agreed that he would spend the nights in Brampton with his mom and you would take the lake house; so you wouldn’t have to worry about bringing your dress or forgetting anything important. It also meant that you were able to have a big Canada Day party by the lake with some of your friends and family who had come to Ontario for the wedding. But you wanted Tyler there. You missed having him around so you snuck away to FaceTime him; listening to the chiming as you waited for him to answer

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Karen said from behind just as Tyler picked up

“Nothing..”

“Hello?” Tyler said

“You’re not supposed to see each other before the wedding!” She said as she made her way over to where you were standing

“There were no rules against us FaceTiming!”

“Yeah!” Tyler added, chuckling as he did so

“Goodbye, Tyler.” Karen said and he shrugged before hanging up

“Wow. He gave up so quickly” you joked

“Have you finished your vows?” She asked

“Yes.”

“You’re lying”

“I am not!” you countered, “I finished my vows but I haven’t written his note yet.”

“Note?”

“Yeah, Tyler said we should write each other letters and read them before we see each other tomorrow.”

“Oh that’s cute. I’ve seen those pictures on Pinterest.”

“Right?! I was surprised he wanted to do it but now I can’t seem to write the note...”

“Have you started?”

“I tried,” you sighed, “but I keep getting distracted.”

“Hmm” she hummed and you cocked your head to the side, furrowing your brows at her response

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Nothing. Here,” she said, sitting you down at the table and handing you some paper, “start writing. It’ll flow easily, I’m sure. When you’re done, come out and get some food.” You rolled your eyes at her, huffing as she walked away but you tried to jot some thoughts down; flying through memory after memory of your relationship with Tyler, filling the page with the ones that made you smile and left out the ones that brought tears to your eyes. It was a small thing but it truly made you feel closer to him.

“I love you” he texted, bringing a smile to your face

“I love you, too,” you replied, “I just finished my letter to you”

“Ahh, late with that huh? I thought you’d have that done earlier. I know I did.”

“You did not!”

“I did too! As soon as I suggested it, I knew what I wanted to say so I wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget any of it.”

“Wow. I’m actually shocked”

“I feel like I should be offended by that...”

“No! I love that you were able to write it so quickly. I miss you...”

“I miss you, too. I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow”

“What are you doing right now?”

“My mom invited some people over so we’re having a little barbeque with the family and some friends”

“Okay, I’ll let you get back to it. Tell everyone I say hi. I should probably get back to our little party as well”

“Will do. See you tomorrow, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You went back to the party, grabbing a plate of food and talking to everyone before Lucy put a Canada Day headband on you and forced you to take pictures and you took some shots on your own phone, about a million boomerangs included, and quickly posted them on your Instagram. It wasn’t long before you came across Candace’s story from the party, smiling as you watched Tyler cook steaks on the grill as Jackie and Cassidy danced in the background.

“Whatcha doin’?” Diana said as she looked over your shoulder

“Just checkin’ Instagram” you answered and she laughed

“You’re getting married tomorrow!” she exclaimed

“I know! It’s crazy right?”

“It is!” she replied while you continued to scroll through your feed

“I’m happy though,” you smiled to yourself, “like really happy. I’m a little shocked that he still wants to marry me, especially after that whole ‘postponing the wedding’ thing, but he said he wrote his letter as soon as he thought about it. He said he misses me.”

“The bar seems real low there, (Y/N)” she shrugged

“Hey!” you scoffed, “look I know how that sounds but you’d have to see the change that I see. He’s nowhere near who he was when we first met him”

“I know that,” she admitted, “and I know that he is so excited to marry you. I’m happy you’re happy and so in love.”

“Yeah,” you smiled to yourself, “I am.” Diana sat back in her chair, smiling at you and how happy you were while your face was still buried in your phone. Something caught your eye in one of Cass’s posts so you went back to check it out but you couldn’t get a proper look at it so you ignored it for now

“Hey!” Katie said, popping in front of you and taking your phone from you, “you can’t ignore all these people! They’re here for you”

“I’m sorry,” you laughed, “I just miss him. And I wanna see what he’s up to”

“He’s at a party. Just like you. Celebrate with us” she pulled you up and gestured for Diana to come to the dock to watch the fireworks. As soon as everyone sat down at the edge of the dock, feet dangling into the water as they sipped their drinks, you got a notification that Tyler was going live, so you opened the link quickly just to see what was happening, walking up to the house to be able to turn the sound on. You watched as Tyler scanned through the backyard surrounded by family and friends, preparing to go out on a boat to get a better vantage point of his fireworks. You listened as Tyler explained how he was getting married tomorrow and how happy he was to have so much support from those closest to him. Your heart was warm as he expressed how much he loved you, mentioning you by name as much as he could. You were about to close the video and head back to your spot on the dock when you heard a voice say something from beside the camera

“You’re going to be fully off the market...” Kate said and Tyler moved the camera to show her, “how does it feel? Knowing your whole life is going to change?”

“Honestly?” he questioned and you scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, “it’s the best feeling. Knowing that I’m going to be with the person I love most. It’s amazing.”

“Well,” she said, smiling directly at Tyler even though it just seemed like it was into the camera, “I guess congratulations are in order!”

“That’s what the fireworks are for aren’t they?” They both laughed and you finally decided to close the app and lock your phone. It was such a sweet sentiment but the fact that he didn’t tell you that Kate would be there left a weird taste in your mouth. You completely intended to put it out of your mind, because there didn’t seem to be anything going on other than friendly banter, but you found yourself going back to Cassidy’s story to see if Kate had been there all day or if she just showed up for the fireworks; noticing her in the background of one of the stories and you found yourself back at the table where you wrote your letter to Tyler. You scrolled through both Candace and Cassidy’s posts to see what you could see, resting your left elbow on the table and bringing your hand to your head as you continued to look through everything. After a while, you dropped your phone and put it to the side, looking around you to grab another piece of paper and your hand began to write, as if it were possessed, much more quickly than the original letter. When you had finished everything, you placed the pen to the right of the paper and read through the note; unsure of what you intended to do with it but hiding it in the drawer for the time being.

“Where did you go?” your phone chimed as Diana’s text came through

“You’re missing the fireworks!” Lucy’s text read

“You’re not checking in on Tyler again are you?” Katie asked

“Hey Bride to be! Come to the dock!” Chris sent

“If you’re breaking the rules, you’re in trouble!” Karen joked

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked and your head sank low, thinking about a possible answer to reply with, walking back to the dock when you couldn’t think of anything; Lionel running up to you when you came down the hill. He curled up at your feet and you dropped to kneel beside him, smiling at the comfort he gave before you looked at the group watching the fireworks in front of you.

“There you are!” Lucy called out and you shrugged as you walked over to her, making sure Lionel was with you.

“Here I am!” you replied, trying to keep a smile on your face so no one would ask where you were. So you wouldn’t have to say what you were thinking. So you wouldn’t have to mention a fear that everyone told you wasn’t real.

#Tyler Seguin #Tyler Seguin fic #Tyler Seguin imagine #Tyler Seguin series #NHL #Dallas Stars #imagine #series #masterlist #the other masterlist #it had to be you #It Had To be You series

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 5 years

Note

hello!! could i request a seteth x reader drabble where the reader likes to draw outside, and seteth happens to spot that they've been drawing him?? with the reader being,, so flustered,,

Pairing: Seteth x reader

Description: After Ignaz offers you some unsolicited advice for your love life, you decide its best to draw in the safety and comfort of your own room. However, it seems the fates had other plans for you today as you quite literally ran into the object of your affection on your way back to your dorm.

Word Count: 3428

Rating: sfw

Notes: Hello yes? I love Seteth? Also I didn’t expect this to be so long WHOOPS what can I say expect reader is super relatable so I went hard.

“What have you been working on lately, _____?” Ignaz stood over your hunched form, looking down at the sketchbook you gently tapped your pencil to.

“Ahh just… something personal…” You covered the page more, a bit ashamed to admit just what you were drawing.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Ignaz took a step back, flustered. “You’re usually happy to share what you’re working on, so I thought…” He shook his head.

“No, no it’s okay! You didn’t know better.” You shook your head and offered him a smile so he would know there were no hard feelings. “I’m just… a little embarrassed is all…” You took a peek at your picture, once more becoming flustered at the mere sight of it. You didn’t know how you would finish it, if when every time you gazed upon it embarrassment like no other took over your form.

“Oh? I understand.” Ignaz took a seat beside you and nodded slowly. “I have a few pieces like that, that are so precious to me…” His eyes closed and an easy smile hit his lips. “So don’t feel obligated to share with me. I just wanted to check in on you, since you seemed, well…” He paused, his eyes opening and his honeyed gaze meeting your own before he spoke again “you seem different, is all. As your friend, I guess I just got worried about you.” He smiled a bit sadly, still looking your way.

“Ahh, I… well…” You sighed and closed your eyes, shaking your head a bit before looking at Ignaz. “If even you’ve noticed, I suppose its obvious then…” Ignoring the little snip his way, Ignaz spoke again.

“Wait, what is it?” He cocked his head curiously and continued to watch you.

“Ignaz, I have a crush! A crush on someone I most certainly should not be crushing on!” You cried, shoving your head into your notebook dramatically. He was taken aback but your sudden outburst but shortly after an easy laugh left his lips and he spoke.

“Oh, _____…” Ignaz’s voice was soft. “That’s so cute!” He exclaimed, hands raising up in excitement for you. “I’m actually happy to hear that, I was worried something far more serious was wrong with you!” His laugh filled the air once more but you couldn’t help but sigh, lifting your head again despite not really wanting to face Ignaz after your explosive confession. “Surely it isn’t that bad! You’re a beautiful person, I’m certain whoever it is you’ve fallen for feels the same about you.” Those were easy words to say aloud, you thought bitterly but this matter was far more complicated than you ‘just having a crush’.

“It’s not that simple!” You groaned out, leaning against him. “Like I said this person is… very important. Far too important for me to be this madly in love over.” You sighed, pointedly looking down now. “I just feel like… even if I were to confess, my feelings would be a burden rather than a treasure…” You closed your eyes once again, frowning as you thought about it more.

“Well… I’m sorry you feel that way but… I think the only thing you can do in this situation is ctoonfess. At least, when you do that, you won’t have to live with the regret of never doing so.” He hummed, making sure you saw the smile he wore. “Love is a beautiful thing, _____ and I think you can only benefit from sharing that feeling with someone.”

“Yeah but…” You sighed. “Okay listen, don’t make fun of me Ignaz but…” You sighed again.

“I would never dream of making fun of you, you know that!” He laughed it off but you sill huffed, pouting.

“It’s Seteth, okay?” You cried out, hiding your face after the loud exclamation.

“Oh!” Was all Ignaz said, blushing some himself. “I… see what you mean…” He nodded knowingly, resting his forefinger and thumb under his chin in thought before he spoke again. “Still, I think the sentiment applies. Times are rough right now… you never know what a little bit of love can do for someone, even if the feeling isn’t reciprocated.”

“I guess so…” You looked down at your sketch– it was Seteth, of course, hard at work in his study. “Do you have anyone you love, Ignaz?” You asked softly.

“Anyone I love?” He repeated, somehow startled at this change of the conversation. “Well… there is someone, perhaps.” He laughed a little. “I’m… just not certain I deserve them, is all.” He said softly. “They’re so strong, and kind… They really deserve someone better than me.” You got the feeling you knew who he was talking about but didn’t speak up about it.

“Well… I suggest you take your own advice to heart then.” You smiled at him and despite the topic at hand ,he was glad to see you doing so. “You deserve happiness as well, I can’t have my friend regretting not confessing to someone.” You playfully bopped his nose and Ignaz pulled away from you surprised.

“Yeah but…” He stopped mid complaint, eyes widening upon the realization this was the situation he had just put you through. “I see what you mean. It really isn’t that simple, is it?” The two of you laughed together perhaps a bit too bitterly considering the situation at hand before Ignaz gasped. “Oh no, I was supposed to be heading to the training grounds! I’ll catch you later _____!” Ignaz quickly rose to his feet prepared to make a mad dash for the training grounds. “Really though, I think you should confess! You might be surprised at what happens!” he ran off right after his words, leaving no room for you to reply. Still, you called after his form.

“Only if you confess too Ignaz!” You were left giggling as he nearly tripped in his running; surely he was blushing now too. You could only guess who he was meeting up with in the training grounds…

“Perhaps I should move to somewhere more… secluded…” You frowned, looking around the officers academy. Five years had left the classrooms near abandoned leaving the area generally quiet. Perfect for hiding and drawing, usually. “I’ll just return to my room then.” You rose to your feet, prepared to make your way back to the dormitories on the bottom floor, near the fishing pond and green house. You were still lost in your thoughts, not really paying attention to where you were going until you ran into something and nearly fell.

“_____! You ought to be more careful, that could have been much worse.” Seteth managed to save you from falling on to the unforgiving brick of the monastery but not the contents of your arms. Fear seized your heart as you watched your sketch book fall, open now on the page you had just been previously working on.

“Y-yes, uhh thank you.” You nodded a little bit, eyes flashing from his face to your things on the ground. What sort of cruel joke was this that you would run into him of all people here after such a conversation with Ignaz? “If you’ll excuse me I um, told Hilda I would meet her for tea in her room soon so I really should be in a hurry.” You laughed a little awkwardly as you bent to collect your things, desperately trying to reach for your sketch book that fell past Seteth before he saw it. Damn him for being so polite though, he bent down as well to hand you the sketch book.

“Here, your…” His words died on his tongue as he got a closer look at the drawing, bringing it closer to himself. “Is… this me?” he asked softly.

“N-no!” You answered quickly. “I-I mean, yes it is but please please stop looking at it!” you went to snatch it from him but he rose to his feet, using his height to take it away from you. “Seteth please!” You cried, standing as well and trying to grab it from him. You reached up but didn’t make much of an attempt to get it, far too flustered at this point to get any closer to him. “That’s a private sketchbook I really don’t want anyone seeing what’s in there!” You whined, standing on your tippy toes now to reach it.

“It’s a drawing of me, surely I can see it yes?” He was a little surprised by how much you were reacting to this; in the past he recalled you happily showing off your art to others, himself included. What made these ones in particular so special. “In the past, you had no problem showing off your art.” He added, confused.

“T-that was different.” You huffed, eyes darting away. “This is different.” You added, refusing to meet his gaze. Seteth found your mannerisms to be strange no doubt; there was certainly something different this time and he wasn’t about to leave without finding out. “Please, may I have it back?” You finally met his gaze, face flush and form begging to be unseen. It struck him then, that, perhaps to you, this was a serious matter; even if it did seem like just a normal drawing (albeit of himself) to him.

“Ah… Yes, of course. You have my apologies.” Seteth placed the book back in your waiting hands, and you were quick to close it securely this time.

“Thank you.” you smiled softly at him, quickly turning your gaze back to the floor. Seteth had never seen you go through so many emotions in one sitting but he supposed he was glad to see you smiling again. “I’ll be off now, it’s best not to keep Hilda waiting for too long.” You took your first few steps forward, past Seteth. He stood by, watching you leave him only to watch with wide eyes as you tripped over your forgotten leather pouch of materials. Once more you fell, your sketch book falling out of your arms as you flailed in an attempt to catch yourself and once more Seteth was lucky enough to catch you (though in a much more questionable pose). While your gaze was caught up his green eyes, terror written in your features, his own eyes looked past you, to the mess of loose papers littering the ground now. It seemed every picture was of him; from him talking with Flayn, fishing, working at his desk or even more risque piece of him training with the knights of Serios, or working on weapon maintenance. It was flattering he supposed, if not confusing. Lucky for him, you were currently bent over in his arms, unable to escape his questions.

When he finally did meet your gaze, Seteth found your face flush in a mixture of shame and embarrassment. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit the pink tones didn’t make you even more attractive but there were currently more pressing matters at hand. With ease, he lifted himself and you back to your full heights but refused to let you leave his grasp. “So…” he began awkwardly, keeping his gaze locked on you. Your eyes seemed to want to fixate anywhere but his own; due to you proximity, they always seemed to find their way back to his own eyes. “I see why you wanted to keep those drawings private now.” He couldn’t help but crack a smile at your dawning horror, holding himself back from laughing openly lest he hurt your feelings. “But I’m afraid I have to ask you why you have… so many drawings.” He glanced back at a particularly intense drawing. “Of me.” Once more he studied you, watching as you went through a range of emotions to try and explain your way out of it. Seteth hoped you would tell the truth but frankly in this case he believed the truth would be as if, if not more, unbelievable than any excuse you can come up with.

In this moment, your feelings were quite literally unavoidable. They bubbled up in your eyes, in the way you found it hard to speak and difficult to maintain eye contact with Seteth. Surely Seteth knew now how more than anything you adored him, that you loved him more than you thought earthly possible! Why else would you have so many pictures of him, why else would you have worked so hard to hide them from his viewing? But still, he looked at your curiously, eyes dancing with the hints of mischief and lips upturned in amusement and bewilderment. “It’s, well…” Your words fought with one another, all of them and none of them begging to be said or screamed. It was confusing, vexing how close the two of you were yet how far away your thoughts were. “I just, I mean…” You were mumbling, you knew, looking down and trying your best to hurry through the words hoping Seteth might mishear you despite how close the two of you were. “I just really admire you and think you’re cool and like maybe I kinda really actually a lot love you?” You spoke the words quickly and in a mumbled mess but Seteth heard a phrase here and there. Part of him knew what you had said (or rather, knew what you were trying to say) but he had to be sure before he continued.

“I’m sorry, I understand this is difficult but I’m going to have to ask you to repeat yourself.” Bravely, he tucked a piece of loose hair behind your ear and watched in utter delight as you somehow manged to turn a darker shade of red. He knew he shouldn’t tease you anymore, you looked near to fainting with all the emotions passing through you at this moment. If it truly was too much for you to handle, Seteth would be sure to handle things but you seemed to be preparing yourself for your next words.

“It’s…” You sighed softly, looking at the space between the two of you; there was hardly any, now that you looked at it carefully. That thought alone would have been enough for you to grow confused and anxious but being held so close to him now had your feelings on overdrive. Even now, you hated to admit it but when your feelings became too much for you to handle, too overbearing for you to handle you and cry you felt the undeniable urge to cry, even if you weren’t necessarily upset or angry. You had to actively fight to control your voice, fight the overwhelming urge to let your tears flow lest you make yourself seem more a foll around the man you cared about more than anything. “D-don’t laugh at me, please?” With the sudden change of your tone and the sniffle following your voice, Seteth’s whole demeanor had changed; he of course hadn’t meant to upset you and was set upon fixing things now.

“_____ I apologize if I made you at all uncomfortable!” He was now acutely aware of how close he held you, how if other people saw they would think the two of your doing something wholly inappropriate…

“N-no it’s okay Seteth!” A break in your voice, a break in his heart. With every controlled sniffle you made Seteth felt worse and worse. “I’m not upset I just, I just uh…” You sighed again, clearing your throat out in order to properly say the words and meet his concerned gaze. “I just tend to cry when I feel any one emotion very strongly is all. I-I’m just embarrassed to admit that… that…” You stopped and looked away all the sudden, biting your bottom lip to contain the tears willing to fall and to try and find the courage in your well of fear to confess. “I… really like you. In fact I… I’m in love with you.” Your words had become so soft and so horse Seteth could swear it was just the wind passing through the monastery. But having already made you repeat yourself once, he did not want you to have to deal with that anxiety again.

You were a blushing, quivering mess in his arms and he feared if he let you go at this point your legs would collapse from beneath you. After you had gone through all that trouble to confess to him, Seteth found himself not knowing how to return the feelings. Indeed, it felt as if he were in a dream, or perhaps in one of his fables; truly it would be only there that you would feel the same as he? But he had to bring himself back to reality, back to this moment in time where you were waited with baited breath for any sort of reaction other than stunned silence from him. Your name left his lips as if in a dream; one word seemed to hold a million emotions some of which you knew and others you couldn’t hope to comprehend in this life time. Had you the will to speak you would beg Seteth to end this torment; you couldn’t stand not knowing how he felt about you any longer.

“_____… I feel the same. I love you as well.” The easy smile that met his lips, the adoration and care that clearly shone in his deep eyes was enough to put you over the edge. Without hesitation you dove into his chest, hugging him tightly and choking out a sob held too long. He was surprised by your sudden action but happily embraced you as well, soaking in on an embrace he had only dreamed of for far too long.

“I’m sorry,” were the first of many mumbled and muffed words to leave you. Your tears stained his shirt but Seteh found he didn’t mind so much if it meant he got to hold you. “I’m happy, I’m so very happy you feel the same but I just cannot hold back my tears any longer. There are too many emotions and I fear they must escape somehow.” You had pulled back just enough so Seteth could catch the glowing smile on your face and the cute laugh that left your lips. Fresh tears still glinted at the corner of your eyes and carefully Seteth rose his hands to wipe at them with his thumbs. Your cheeks were stained red from the tears that had already fallen but he couldn’t help but think you looked beautiful in this moment.

“It’s quite alright.” He couldn’t stop smiling, feeling as if he were on high now. “However… it think its best we clean up this mess before another person comes across it.” Seteth’slaugh filled your ears as your cheeks tinged pink for a whole new reason; you had completely forgotten about your scattered sketchbook around the two of you.

“Oh no!” Seteth laughed again as you rushed out of his arms now, bending down to collect the papers fast as you could. You were still intent he see as little of these pictures as possible. “Please, Seteth don’t look at these!” You whined, being careful with them while still hurriedly trying to collect them. Seteth of course, helped, taking his time to admire the art a moment before moving to collect the next one. By the end of it, you of course had collected more than he but still, he handed you a fair stack all with a knowing smile at your blush.

“You know,” he shook his head, still not believing he was going to admit the words aloud to you. “If it… makes you feel better I’ve… actually written some things about you.” His voice was small, and his cheeks a faint pink as he tried his best to be polite and look at you while also wishing he couldn’t be seen.

“It… does, yeah.” You smiled sweetly, accepting the papers from him. “Maybe… one day, you can show me some of that writing… and I can share some of this art with you?” You smiled a little shyly now, catching his gaze.

“I think… I would like that, yes.” Seteth smiled now too, helping you to your feet. “I was hoping we could spend some time together but if you had prior arrangements with Hilda…” He teased, catching your embarrassed blush.

“I-I’m sure she’ll understand. In fact, she might be more excited about this whole predicament than me…” You sighed but kept your hand enclosed with Seteth. You knew he still had work to be done, but even then, it would be nice to spend some time with him…

#blognotarobot #seteth x reader #fe three houses #fe 3h #seteth #fire emblem three houses #how upsetting that Seteth doesn't have a full name I can use

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