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celtigxr · 26 days

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The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. ii : Familiar Strangers

Chapter Summary: The King and his family greet and welcome their guests of honour in the Throne Room, but someone is a bit late.

Word count: 3217

Sneak Peak: “My brother isn’t very competitive,” Aegon came to his side, the back of his hand hitting Aemond’s shoulder in jest before folding it in front of him. “Though, mayhaps that will change this season, eh, brother?” Aemond had to turn his head to glare at Aegon, “If you are competing, dear brother, mayhaps I will.” Aegon’s grin never faltered. That infuriating grin that haunts Aemond’s every insecurity was like the smile of a great white shark that approached its prey. Aegon extended his hand in front of them, “You remember Valeana—"

Warnings: Fatph0bic remarks.

T H E R E D S

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The Throne Room was just as Val remembered, though smaller. She had memories of towering ceilings, and a throne sitting on a mountain of swords, but perhaps that was a fever dream. The Iron Throne was still intimidating beyond all sense, with its sharp edges threatening to slice anyone who dare sit on it. Then there was the garden of swords that were smelted onto the ground around it. It made King Viserys a lot more frightening than he actually was.

When the Celtigars entered the Throne Room, it was led by Bartimos, his lady wife on his left, and Clement on his right. The three daughters and Arthor walked behind until they approached dais, where the four of them flanked their sides. The entire family all fell into a deep bow and curtsey before the King and one half of his family.

“Your Grace, we are filled with humility and privilege at your most honourable invitation,” Lord Bartimos spoke, his voice professional, courteous, as if he was not addressing an old friend. His eyes, however, were filled with nostalgia and conflict.

“Bartimos Celtigar!” The King sat up from the Throne, mouth in a wide smile, hand extended while his other used his cane to step down closer to the family. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Valaena turned to watch the exchange between her father and the King. She stood at the far right, after Arthor who stood next to Clement. Her eyes briefly roamed over the room, glancing at the green queen and her Hightower-Targaryen children. Well, two of them.

The corner of Bartimos’ mouth twitched, his face fighting to remain stoic and regal, but his nature was desperate to be familiar, as he once was with Viserys. There was so much tension in the room, that the rusted swords of the Throne cut through it. Valeana tried to keep her eyes trained onto the King, but she found herself glancing back at the fair-haired prince and princess, and noting that he wasn’t there.

Then Aegon glanced at her, and she pulled her gaze back onto the King.

“You look well, your Grace,” Bartimos’s eyes darted down and back up, “You’ve gotten…”

Viserys lifted his chin and eyebrows, the corners of his smile twitching upward, “...fat?”

“I was going to say you’ve gotten your hair back.”

“Wish I could say the same for you.”

The two men stared at each before breaking into a fit of laughter. The tension was lifted. Shoulders loosened, muscles relaxed, and breath was released from lungs.

After embracing in the way men do, King Viserys went down the line of each Celtigar, beginning with Lady Ursula, and then moving onto Clement, the heir, who Viserys had not seen since he was an infant.

“Gods, you are a giant,” Viserys clapped his shoulder. “The Blood of Old Valyria runs strong in you, my boy, I can see it. It’s like staring into the face of the Conqueror.”

“My Lady Floris, you have grown into a fine young woman. The spitting image of your beautiful mother.”

“And do my eyes deceive me, or is this little Shyla? Gods, I remember when you were just a little thing, dancing around my corridors like a butterfly.”

“Ah, you must be Arthor. You were just a babe last time we met, but I’d recognize those large brown eyes anywhere. I always knew you would become a strapping lad – you remind me of your grandsire, Lord Frey. He had a strong jaw like yours.”

When his lilac eyes landed on Valeana, his features seemed to change. There was some confusion, and then a tinge of pain and regret, but not until after he put the pieces of the puzzle together. Not until he realized who he was staring at.

“Valeana,” he spoke her name as if he was reading an epitaph etched on a tomb. His four-fingered hands reached to cup her cheeks, thumb running just under her eye, “I see your mother in your eyes.” His voice was wistful as his hands moved from her face to her shoulders, “Your presence has made me a very happy man. And–” He looked over his shoulder, to his children, finding that his one-eyed son was still not in attendance. His mouth fell into a firm line as the words were lost into the wind. He turned back to Valeana with a rueful smile, “Well, let’s not get into it now. I am sure you are all tired from your journey– you’ll be staying in your old apartments. I hope you’ll find yourself at home as you all once had in the past.”

Before the Celtigars were led through the familiar route to Maegor’s Holdfast, there were brief, albeit awkward, greetings with Queen Alicent and her two eldest children. They made no mention of Aemond’s absence, though Val preferred it and would have thanked them for it if it was appropriate. She politely stood between her two brothers, silent, demure and polite.

The Targaryens, who were once a second family to her, were now strangers in front of her.

The King, Queen, and the Lord and Lady Celtigar went on up ahead, catching up on years lost, and left the youth to their own devices in the corridor.

“It is good to see you again, Lady Valaena,” Heleana’s gentle voice reached her ears for the first time in ten years. She had memories of the princess sitting on the floor, examining bugs, or spending hours with Val embroidering. Helaena was not like her brothers or nephews; as children she lived in her own world, preferring the company of insects than to people. Val did not understand why until the day she preferred the company of stray cats and mice over people.

“It is a gift you’re still with us,” The princess added, and her choice of words felt intentional. They held meaning, they held knowing, and Val wondered what exactly she knew about what happened to her when she returned to Claw Isle.

Valeana’s mouth hung open, a complete loss of words for a moment. Licking her bottom lip, which felt dry, she gave the princess a small smile and a nod of her head, “I am glad to have reunited with you, my Princess.”

Aegon’s voice caught their attention; he stood nearby, having given obligatory greetings to each member, though his demeanor was blasé until he got to Shyla. His eyes sparkled with the shameless playfulness that Valeana remembered him for.

“Lady Shyla Celtigar,” he took the youngest sister’s hand and gave a kiss on her knuckles. Her cheeks bloomed roses, her eyes looked up at him like glittery topaz gems under the light of the sun. “You’ve grown to be the very image of the Maiden. I do not know who to thank more, your mother or your father.”

“Oh Seven Hells,” Val could not help the words from falling from her lips. She knew her sister, she knew how easily her heart sways, and the look Shyla was giving Aegon when he turned to look at Valaena was the same way a hungry cat would look at a fat pigeon.

Aegon regarded her like an old toy he was nostalgic over. Odd, considering he held no love for her, if anything he was the bane of her existence. While Aemond’s cruelty was from betrayal, Aegon’s was more blatant, brazen and frequent.

He stepped closer to her, hands pulled behind his back, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Little Val. Looking very little indeed.”

Val pursed her lips and lifted her chin in an attempt to level her eyes with his. “And how can I forget you, my Prince.”

“So formal,” he tutted, “We were friends once, remember?”

Val furrowed her brow, “No we weren’t.”

“Valeana,” Floris hissed, overhearing the conversation. She immediately turned to the prince, “Forgive her impertinence, my Prince. She has forgotten herself after all these years. Her injury forced her into isolation for such a long time– politeness and etiquette are lost to her now.”

“Oh, what a tragedy,” Aegon’s sarcasm wasn’t well disguised.

“You can thank your brother for that,” Val’s tone was dry in her jest. She had forgotten whose company she was in. Her siblings' eyes were on her as if she had just committed treason, but Aegon’s smile reached his eyes before he barked out a laugh.

“Why don’t you thank him yourself?” His violet gaze looked over Val’s shoulder, and that was when she felt an icepick go down her spine.

T H E G R E E N S

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When Ser Arryk (or Erryk, he can never tell which) had found him, drowning in his cups with a maid on his knee, with clear instruction from his father to meet the family in the Throne Room to greet the Celtigars, Aegon very nearly did the opposite. He thought of fleeing the castle, into the bowels of the Street of Silk, never to be seen until this Royal Conclave farce was over with. He was already betrothed to his sister (as far as he was aware), and should have long ago wedded and bedded her, siring silver-haired and purple-eyed Valyrian children, but King Viserys would not see it happen. With his health improving, his mind became less weak to the influence of Aegon’s mother and grandsire.

Viserys had his heir, and many grandchildren to inherit the crown and throne. Unlike what his mother wishes, what Otto Hightower alludes to, Aegon will never inherit the crown. He did not wish to… He had no taste for duty. However, if marriage to a noble lady of the realm was the extent of his duty, then all he asks is for her to be nice on the eyes. He supposed Helaena was attractive, but when he looked at her, he did not see anything other than his strange sister. He had no desire for her.

However, when the King had announced that the Celtigars would be one of two guests of honour at the Keep, Aegon had an unsettling realization that Viserys may have intentions to marry him to one of the Celtigar daughters. A shudder went down his spine at the thought. Perhaps Helaena would be the better option.

He was old enough to remember when they left King’s Landing, his memory far more crystal clear than any of his nephews or siblings who were younger at the time. The Celtigar sisters were not pleasant creatures. The eldest, the Grafton girl, reminded him of one of those preying-something bugs with large eyes that his sister carries in tiny cages. The youngest one had no eyebrows, giving her a massive forehead, and the third… Well, she was fat.

Aegon remembered her to be so robust that some thresholds were far too narrow for her to go through without her sides brushing each side. He even remembered the sight of her taking a fall down the stone stairs and how he couldn’t look away; it was horrifying, seeing the rolls of her thighs ripple as they flew over her head, flashing what might have been her twat, Aegon wasn’t sure. But it was also hilarious – of all fifteen seconds before he heard the snap. Then it went back to horrifying.

There was little news of what happened to little Val after that. Last thing he heard was that, despite the Grand Maester righting her leg back into position, she was still incapable of walking, and guards had to bring her around on a litter. Aegon doubted that her inability to move would have done anything for her size – so he fully expected to meet a whale on a settee when he entered the Throne Room.

Aegon for once in his life, was glad he wasn’t getting lost in the Street of Silk. As he stood on the dias before the Iron Throne, he found himself a little bit excited. His hands were clasped behind his back in an attempt to hide his fidgeting fingers. Floris looked the same as he remembered, only older, more pinched faced, but tall. He was surprised how much Shyla grew into her appearance – eyebrowless and all, she still flowered well. Though Aegon found himself at a loss of words for the fair-haired sister, standing at the end of the line, next to her two brothers.

Valeana Celtigar was still the shortest of her family, but she was no longer the most horizontal. Perhaps her breaking her leg was the best thing that could have ever happened to her.

When she caught his eye and immediately looked away, Aegon couldn’t help but grin to himself.

Oh Aemond, he bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. You fool. You poor, late, one-eyed fool.

“Why don’t you thank him yourself?”

The devil in which they talked about had finally arrived, his gait languid, unrushed like a billow of smoke. He had changed, as per his grandsire’s request when Otto intercepted him, which is why he had not made it on time. Though, truly, he was in no rush and had hoped that he would find them all gone by the time he got there. Yet Aemond caught their guests just as they exited the Throne Room, catching his brother’s eye over the shoulder of a fair-haired lass.

“Thank me for what?”

The faces that turned to him were familiar strangers. Clement, he hadn’t met, but knew of, and Aemond suspected the other lordling with the dark hair to be Arthor. He recognized Floris and Shyla immediately, since their most characteristic features had not dissipated with time. The young maid with the head of fair hair before him turned to him like a stone statue trying to move on its own. He did not recognize her at first, he did not regard her initially, not until viperous green eyes met a regal violet one. Aemond faltered, his eye widening from surprise. He immediately tried to cover up by relaxing the muscles in his face.

Eyes that once looked up at him full of warmth and fondness, ones that would light up a room and a space in his chest whenever he had said something that made her laugh. The last time he saw those eyes, they were wide, glossy with fear and betrayal before they disappeared into the back of her head.

Now they looked at him with something that set his hot Valyrian blood to ice.

Indifference.

“Prince Aemond,” Clement stepped to his sister’s side, then placed his shoulder in between the two. It was the only thing that pulled Aemond’s gaze off of her. When his eye was not on her, he was himself once more. “We didn’t see you in the Throne Room with your family.”

“A keen observation, Lord Clement,” Aemond tilted his chin up at the eldest. He found that he loathed having to look up at someone, least of all a Celtigar. “Nothing gets by you, I see.”

Clement’s tight lipped smile betrayed the boil of his blood, “Glad to see you still can.”

“Hm,” Original. “Pardon my tardiness. I was in the middle of training when I received word of your house’s arrival.”

“I’ve heard you’re quite the swordsman, Prince Aemond,” Floris approached her step-brother’s side. Her long-fingered hand placed on his forearm, a way to calm those clenching fists. “Will we see you compete in the tourney?”

Aemond’s eye flickered to her and then back at Clement, “I have thought of it.”

“My brother isn’t very competitive,” Aegon came to his side, the back of his hand hitting Aemond’s shoulder in jest before folding it in front of him. “Though, mayhaps that will change this season, eh, brother?”

Aemond had to turn his head to glare at Aegon, “If you are competing, dear brother, mayhaps I will.”

Aegon’s grin never faltered. That infuriating grin that haunts Aemond’s every insecurity was like the smile of a great white shark that approached its prey.

Aegon extended his hand in front of them, “You remember Valeana— Where’d she go?”

Sometime in the midst of the tense interaction, Valeana Celtigar had slipped away. Aemond had been actively trying to pretend she was a part of the tapestries, lest he get caught in her viper pit of a gaze. Then his brother had to bring up her name; he had to bring up the elephant in the room, the reason why tensions were high and why Clement was trying to spear him with his glare alone.

But she was not there.

Even her own siblings were confused by her disappearance.

T H E R E D S

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“Get away from me, you pig!”

It was a mistake for her to come. She knew this weeks ago, but her arms and legs were chained to duty, and Valeana had no choice but to let her father lead her into a den of dragons. It took all her will power to look at him, to keep her eyes trained to stare right through him, as if he was just another servant that filtered through the halls. If it weren’t for Clement stepping in front of her, she would’ve broken. Her eyes would’ve watered, forced to look away out of shame and fear.

Valeana had thought her feelings for him were long gone, replaced with resentment and dislike, but she was quickly reminded of how much she used to love him. With her needle and thread, she spent years trying to sew back her heart, and with one look, one reminder of the colour of his eyes made those seams break.

She heard of how he lost his eye, and at the time she found it truly fortuitous, until she found out what he had gained in exchange. Seeing it in person reminded Valeana of how she had yet to be repaid by the gods for what she lost. Aemond Targaryen did not pay for what he did to her, not truly.

These feelings came rushing back to her in those brief seconds, and Val needed to flee and collect herself. She took advantage of the discourse and the shield of her brother’s broad back, and slowly retreated until she was part of the shadows, where she shared a look with Arthor. Her half brother didn’t say anything when she rounded the corner, didn’t even regard her with concern or reprimand.

Arthor Celtigar, the forgotten son, was so used to shadows, he had grown accustomed to being a spectator. He never lived in the Red Keep, and held no nostalgia over childhood friends he never had. He was only seven when his sister returned with a lame leg and a cloud of despair over her head. Being bound to Claw Isle while his father and sisters remained at King’s Landing had made him indifferent to his siblings, particularly his sisters. He was raised by a Frey mother, in the mighty shadow of his half-brother, Clement. Eventually, he became one with the shadows, like a spider in the corner that no one sees.

But Helaena Targaryen saw him, and she saw his sister fly down the corridor like a bat out of a closet.

He supposed that he would no longer be the only spider on the wall.

Tag: @queen-of-elves

(if you want to be tagged for new chapters, just reply!)

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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rhine-gold-archive · 2 years

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Morax & Guizhong, first meeting.

He would always remember how they met in the fields of glaze lilies, where she made a PowerPoint presentation on why they should work together and insinuated that he’s kind of dumb.

Warnings: none, safe for view, can be read as platonic or a bit shippy.

A\N: I wrote this as a part of another fic, but in the end it didn’t fit the structure, so I’m posting this as standalone bc I like how it turned out. I hate that “Memory of Dust” is described as “dumbbell” in English when it’s obviously a puzzle, but I had to roll with it. Guizhong basically has nano-particles powers bc I think it’s fun.

Wordcount: 2,5k

Guizhong clasped her hands together, hiding them in her long sleeves. She tended to get jittery when nervous and it was no time for that.

“Lord Morax,” she said solemnly, watching him from across the field. He looked both as she imagined him and the complete opposite at once. He radiated power and confidence, but wasn’t huge or bulky as she expected. Of course, a god didn’t need muscles to fight, but from his reputation as a reckless, brutal fighter she thought he’d want to take a form boasting of warrior prowess. After all, the god of rock just kind of implied a mountain of a man. But he was very tall and sort of narrow, without any warrior regalia, intense gold eyes with red paint under them and long black hair, turning to burnt amber at the ends. She remembered that he was a dragon and perhaps this slim and sharp build made sense for someone used to a snake-like body. “I offer you my greetings. You probably don’t know who I am, so allow me to introduce myself, I’m…”

“I’ve heard of you,” he had a deep, calm voice and watched her with polite indifference. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Lady Guizhong?”

Okay, but how should she start? She had a list of arguments in defense of her offer that she thoroughly prepared, but she hasn’t thought of the openings. To be honest, she expected a loud warlord, not someone this taciturn and serious.

“I would like to propose an alliance,” no sense in dragging this out.

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“You are known as a wise and kind-hearted goddess. I would welcome you in my court.”

His expression barely changed. As she expected, with his reputation as a conqueror who never knew defeat and a fair ruler, he was used to people pledging their allegiance and accepted it as a given.

She took a deep breath and tried to sound calm and confident, though her palms were sweating inside of her sleeves.

“No. I will not join you as a follower, only as an equal.”

That finally got his attention. He blinked in surprise, then folded his arms, gold eyes focusing on her.

“And why would I want to share my power with you?” he raised an eyebrow, but his voice stayed calm, with just barely noticeable undercurrent of irony.

“I’m glad you asked,” she smiled and dragged the basket full of scrolls out of the lilies at her feet. Both of his eyebrows disappeared under the disheveled black bangs. “I’ve prepared a list of arguments. Though, I imagine, as a priority you’d like to know why you should take me seriously on the battlefield. Well, let’s get this unpleasant topic out of the way first,” she sighed and waved her hand at him. “Please make one of your stone spears.”

He watched her with taciturn amusement, head cocked to the side, then smirked sharply and made a brisk motion with his hand. A rock spear twice her height smashed into the ground precisely at her feet, not touching, but close enough that the basket next to her shuddered. Guizhong flinched, but stopped herself from stepping back and threw him a glare.

He wasn’t taking her seriously yet, but was willing to indulge her just to see where this is going, which was good enough for now. She had some aces up her sleeve.

She took a deep breath and focused on the spear in front of her. Rocks crumble into dust because they were always made of it, every stone is actually a collection of dust particles, densely packed together. And so, she knew how to call the dust within the rock to her will. It was the easiest with natural mountains, which already were weathered by time and ready to turn to dust without much resistance.

Stones created by Morax were different. They were unusually solid, called into existence by the power of a deity and so appeared wholesale, without internal fractures or inconsistencies, unlike stones that formed naturally. But she thought of it, visited the battlefields to study his spears and learned to call the dust in them too.

It wasn’t working now though. Spears on the battlefields were weeks, sometimes months old, they had time to be corrupted by wind and rains. This one was just created, and so was flawless, without any cracks for her to exploit.

Guizhong gritted her teeth, her fists clenching hard enough that her nails left the marks on her palms. She couldn’t fail right now, couldn’t show herself as a fool when so much was riding on this. She searched frantically for the smallest flaw to get in and unravel it, until the picture snapped into view, like an optical illusion finally coming into focus. It was a perfectly structured grid with no points of failure, but it was still a grid of dust. She didn’t need a fracture to claim it and had never needed it.

She smiled and extended her hand, meeting his gold eyes.

“Every rock turns to dust,” she snapped her fingers and the top of the spear started softly crumbling. “And I can always take what is mine.”

Morax visibly tensed up, now actually taken aback, then turned back to her, no longer looking amused. She smiled wider in triumph, while the spear was still turning to dust from the top down.

“I don’t have delusions of grandeur, I realize that I don’t have the firepower to take you on by myself. I mean, I do have a knack for war machines, so maybe with an ambush and the right strategy… No, but realistically, I’d make an alliance with someone else, who could strike hard enough when I crumble your defenses.”

“That’s a very convincing point,” his voice was flat, but eyes much colder than before. “Now explain to me why I should let you leave alive.”

“I don’t actually want to bring you down, I just thought as a warrior, you won’t take me seriously unless you believe I can be a threat. I’m not trying to blackmail you into an alliance.”

“Thrilled to hear,” he said dryly, still eyeing her incredulously. “What are you trying to do, then?”

Perhaps she miscalculated. She proceeded on the assumption that he would value combat strength above all and didn’t adjust her plans even though nothing in his actual appearance and conduct supported it. Now she had to tread lightly.

“I have much resourcefulness to offer,” she clasped her hands again and forced herself to speak slowly and choose her words carefully, keeping her tone neutral. ”You see, humans are as small and fragile as dust. Because they are so small, they know not when they will lose their lives to disaster or strife, and so they are afraid. Because they are afraid, they try so hard to become more intelligent. This I understand. So I thought that since there is such a gulf between us in strength, I should use technique and wisdom instead. With your brawn and my brains, this city would surely become a great one."

He let her speak with the same guarded expression, then looked away for a moment, and when he met her gaze again there was tension around his eyes she wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“My brawn? Is that why you sought after me, for military strength?”

To keep her people safe, she often had to deal with gods stronger than herself and in all of her experience, conquerors loved to hear their accomplishments on the battlefield being praised. But somehow he seemed so unlike anyone she’s ever had to deal with. It was clear, the neutral tone wasn’t going to work, she had to commit to either sticking to her initial plan of talking with a warrior or to instead treat him as… as what? She had no clue, aside from that it’s someone very different.

She bit her lip and took the risk of talking sincerely instead of diplomatically.

“I’m… No, not at all. I wouldn’t want to join just any warlord, no matter how strong. I heard that you are merciful and let even lost souls join you, and so your followers are loyal to you out of love and not fear. I heard that you spent many days borrowing the mountains in search of a blind dragon just because it was crying for help, and then granted it eyes and freedom. That once your people were plagued by the aquatic pests and you went door to door to every home and caught them all by yourself. This all tells me you are kind and fight to protect, not for glory or power. That you are building an empire to serve it, and not for it to serve you. And so from all this I thought no matter how different, we share the same dream.”

He kept silent, and as always when panicking, she slipped into overexplaining.

“By brawn, I didn’t mean just prowess in a fight, I meant your general strength. I think you’re used to choosing the most direct, straightforward solutions because you know you have power to back it up, so you don’t even start to consider other options. I’m, on the opposite, used to having little resources, so I’m very good at calculating cost-effectiveness. I think I could use more material basis and you could benefit greatly from my ability to optimize. Frankly, I decided to join you when I heard of the story of how you've dealt with parasites. I mean, personally going door to door? That’s so well-intended and yet so wasteful! How no one told you “Stop, no, what are you doing to yourself, there are so many other options”? I immediately thought, “I have to save this man”.

She forced herself to shut up, because that was probably too much sincerity and his eyebrows were disappearing under the bangs yet again. Under the desperate strike of inspiration, she raised her hand, and the rest of the stone spear crumbled down, leaving the small, intricately carved puzzle lock in the form of a dumbbell floating in the air.

“I think that by combining your solid foundation and my inventive precision, we can create something bigger than both of us.”

He eyed it, still looking impassive, and walked up to Guizhong, stopping a couple of steps ahead. Then he met her eyes and suddenly smirked.

“So you’re implying that I’m stupid?”

She blushed and smiled apologetically.

“I never said that. I only meant that when you have a hammer, and by hammer I mean giant rock spears, everything looks like a nail, and you could use some new perspectives.”

He actually smiled at that, a wide grin that showed inhumanly long fangs.

“But I do in fact think that I’m smarter with the currently present evidence,” she added cheekily. “But! The dumbbell I gave you is actually a puzzle lock. This is the mark of our pledge, and it is also my challenge to you. All my wisdom is hidden within this stone dumbbell. If you manage to solve it, I will admit that you’re at least as wise as I am."

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, chuckling, a deep rumbling sound, and she noticed that his gravelly voice could turn almost velvety when he was friendly. She could understand why he was so loved by his followers despite his initial stand-offishness. “So, are you going to finally show me these scrolls or are you planning to just keep insulting me?”

She fluttered her eyelashes with feigned innocence.

“I can do both. I’m very good at multitasking.”

Joking like that with the most fearsome conqueror in the land was objectively a dumb idea, but the difference between sharp, gilded intensity in his eyes to the interested, warm golden glow was almost dizzying. She’s never met anyone like him, but at the same time she felt like she knew him for a lifetime, knew that he was proud, but not arrogant, that his ego was not fragile enough to be hurt by friendly jabs.

“Okay, let’s start with agriculture, it’s honestly a basis for any great settlement,” she dropped to her knees and started rummaging through the scrolls. “Ugh, where is it?.. No, that’s the ballista schematics… the mining equipment…”

He sat down in the grass next to her and threw her a somewhat bashful glance.

“To be honest, in retrospect I do wish there was someone who stopped me from dealing with the pests like that. I now cannot stand even the smell of seafood.”

She clasped her hand over the mouth to stifle a horrified laugh, dropping the scrolls.

“Oh no! Oh, sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just the situation itself is so… You took preventative measures to make sure it’s not happening again, right?”

His smirk froze and his eyes widened, letting her know that he never thought of it and now was horrified by the idea. There was no monster or god powerful enough to brag about seeing the lord of stone scared, except for the goddess of dust who was now trying to stop wheezing.

“Oh no, you poor thing… Don’t worry, we’ll get to that, I won’t let it happen again on my watch. Now, where was I…Aha, here’s the agriculture scroll!”

She hesitated, because flowers were not the most comfortable surface to roll your scrolls over, but then he snapped his fingers and a small stone table rose up in front of them.

“Thank you! Oh, this is so convenient. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve thought “Ugh, I’d kill to have a block of stone right there.” I mean, I can create things by pressing dust, but it usually only works on small objects and if they are not supposed to be put under a lot of pressure. Which, in most projects I have, they are!... Sorry, I often get my thoughts derailed from the subject.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said with a dry grin and she blushed.

“You can interrupt me to get me back to the topic.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged, eyes still sparkling from laughter. “I think it’s interesting to hear you ramble.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so, because I tend to do that a lot… Anyway, agriculture! In my opinion, a well-planned and organized irrigation system is a key to…”

#guizhong is a nerd and has adhd send tweet #zhongli learned infodumping as a love language from her #zhongli #guizhong #morax #guizhong x zhongli #genshin impact #how do i tag this tho this has no filth #but i only have one tag for fics ugh #rhine talks #rhine writes filth

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jordanstrophe · 3 years

Note

i need more War Of Royalty 🥺

So happy you're enjoying it! Until the next chapter, I offer you this snippet (I say snippet, what I actually mean is bombshells of hidden lore regarding Eden’s past HEHE)

Masterlist: CW: Medieval whump, slavery, torture mentioned, searching for a missing whumpee, angst, talk of death

Godfrey's horse rode at the front of the line, his chest filled with worry as they traveled to Ravenhill as quickly as his horse would allow ... and Margrave, who constantly belittled him to slow down and ride with the rest.

"How can we slow down when we know Eden's getting tortured, or worse-!"

"-Calm down, we'll find him." Margrave groaned, one leg propped up on the horse's back.

Godfrey's horse came skidding to a stop, his helmet angrily snapping back. "C-calm down?! Have you forgotten the cruelty of Ravenhill? How could you not be concerned for Eden’s safety like the rest of us!?" He hissed.

"So I see you've let that boy smitten your heart as well. That slave did nothing but put a soft spot in his majesty's heart. Just look at us, he sent his finest warriors into the heart of our enemy kingdom just to fetch his lost puppy!"

Creaking came from Godfrey's glove as he squeezed the reins. "How could you be so blind to what's in front of you? Do you not understand why we celebrated when the King brought Eden home?!" Godfrey shouted. His voice caused the other horses to halt.

"... Why?" Margrave sighed, only really asking to get him to shut up.

"Because he made the King happy! I haven't seen that man smile since the death of his queen! This weakness you despise, that you loathe, did you ever think for a moment that mayhaps it was healing!?"

He quieted when he didn't get a response, turning his horse back as they continued. "I watched our king break. He lost all his compassion, his reasoning. This strength you see, it's only a mask of hidden sadness."

Margrave's chin snapped up at his words. "Do you know why I'm not running around in a blind panic like the rest of you!? It's because I know what Ravenhill is capable of! And I know the truth." He leaned forward for his voice to reach the man.

"That boy is already dead. No one survives Ravenhill. No one."

He smiled when he was met with silence, watching Godfrey's posture tense up like a statue.

"But I... I made him a promise..." Godfrey muttered under his breath.

"Mistakes happen. Live and learn, eh?" Margrave caught up and roughly patted the man's back. He only stared down at his gloves, questioning every move he had made up to this point, pondering what he could have done differently.

He was grieving.

Nothing but a small candle flame lit the room, the desk sprawled with letters stained in spots of ink. A servant came and replaced the scattered papers with a plate full of fresh fruit and bread.

"You must rest, my lord, you're losing your strength. It's late and you haven't slept since-..." Her last words got caught in her throat as she fell silent.

"Since they took him." King Arvend finished her sentence, seeing the woman take a shaky breath from the corner of his eye. "My lord, pray forgive me, but people have begun to ask questions, so I must ask... Why? Why did you choose Eden? Why did the high royal majesty pluck a wounded slave from the street and bring him home like his own?" She asked.

Arvend let out a fake pained chuckle, his fingers tightening around the quill. "Using flattering words, eh? That's one way to a king's heart, I suppose." He leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in his lap as he closed his eyes.

"... My dear lady, what I'm about to tell you does not leave this room." He spoke, feeling the room fall so quiet he couldn't even hear her breathing, but he did feel her hesitant nod.

"The queen and I never hid that we had no heir, a shame most royalty would hide and wallow in. But not us. No, we flaunted it with voices as high as the mountain." He cracked his eyes open to twist the quill between his fingers with a small smile.

"But in truth? It was all a lie. A lie to keep our most beloved thing safe from Ravenhill’s blade..."

"A lie that caused that very thing to become lost."

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ Thank you for reading!~ @tears-and-lilies @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @starnight-whump @bumpthumpwhump @whumpcreations @myst-in-the-mirror @heathenville @grizzlie70 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @thegreathowdini @kim-poce @digitalart-dwa @princessofonward @andwhump @sunflower1000 @kim-poce @lonesome--hunter @cupcakes-and-pain @as-a-matter-of-whump @nicolepascaline @neverthelass

(Here I go, cutting loose all my self control! Eden, lineart for an upcoming piece)

#whump #medieval whump #tw death #royalty whump #protective caretaker #missing whumpee #whump angst #the plot hath thickened

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Curious Travels - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader

- reader is part of my Of Monsters and Men series

Summary: Yet again has your humble bard dragged you and Geralt to another kingdom for whatever reason, though as the snow falls outside, you know just how to keep warm.

Warning: fluff, SMUT, some actual plot

Masterlist

Jumping off of your own horse you’re immediately greeted with the soft crunch of snow under your boots. Your pack of three mighty adventures have traveled all this way to the wintery mountainside kingdom of Turga for, as Jaskier would say, “food, festivities, and fun times to be had”. Not being one to ever walk away from such intriguing tidings, you’ve made it a point to accompany Jaskier on his trek to the kingdom.

Geralt on the other hand could absolutely not be bothered in the slightest to come for such “fun times to be had” but he loves you and begrudgingly decided to follow the two of you anyways.

The whole ordeal of traveling had taken about a week, through forest and fields, streams to pass and bridges to cross, until finally at last your horses had reached snow. And more importantly the wooden post naming the direction of said mountain kingdom, causing your bard to become even more chipper and talkative then usual.

Much to your amusement and Geralt’s silent moody frustration, though he would have liked to smack the bard across his head or quite possibly snap that lute in two. Watching your face light up at Jaskier’s jokes and stories from before he met both you and Geralt, so far has kept the grumbly Witcher to himself, just being able to see your beaming face is enough to make this trip all the better.

Though he’s still doubtful anything fantastic will actually come out of this journey in any way, considering most travels with the two of you end rather poorly.

You’re eyes grew big once they spotted the snowy glowing city of Turga sitting comfortably atop a silver hill in all her beautiful glory. Jaskier wasn’t fooling, this place is absolutely magnificent, it’s like a true winter wonderland.

Great evergreens stand tall at the large wooden gates of the town, two guards dressed in silver armor and a red sash over their breast greet you three with generous smiles of welcome tidings that take you more off center then you’d ever expected. How strange it is not to be looked down upon, or scrutinized by people who always tend to think the worst.

Jaskier simply grins, clearly knowing something you and your grouchy Witcher do not, but what could that possibly be, then again it isn’t exactly abnormal. Following closely behind, you and Geralt lead your horses along the snow covered streets as Jaskier leads the way to the stables.

The whole time your eyes have been wide in awe at the beautiful surroundings of the town, lanterns held up by steel chains hang in a line above your heads. Dashing evergreens keep watch from their various positions in the square. Oddly enough the stables look cozy, decorative pines are hung at the front doors, and from the opened windows you can see on the inside that there are rafters kept along with ornamental little flags of a hundred colors.

Soon enough the face of a dirt smudge stable boy races out of the wooden door, a wreath on the back of it jostles at the quick unexpected movement. Although on further inspection you realize he is a sylvan once you notice the two hooves peaking out from under his oversized cloak, he smiles brightly at the three of you while his big shimmering eyes shine a soft pink as he shuffles through the snow to Jaskier’s steed.

“Vallo Vaskier! Hove yuv bveen!” Exclaims the boy in a peculiar accent with a smile that could light up a room.

“Oh you know..” Shrugs the bard, “A bit of this a bit of that. But here’s something....I have made some loyal companions on my travels, they’re a real time, it’s been great honestly...although a tad bit dangerous at times but eh I’m still breathing.” He laughs, “So anyways, when’s the grand feast at the lady of winters hall?”

The boys face turns into a thrilled grin, “Are you performing?”

Jaskier glances to you before turning back to the kid, “Of course I am. Didn’t just travel all the way up here for nothing. So uh, when’s the feast?”

“Oh, right the veast. You hev to be invited first. But I vouldn’t vorry to vuch, vord alveys spreads vhen you’re here Vaskier.” States the stable boy with a curt nod.

“Boy you got any taverns close?” He snaps his head up to you, curls bouncing in the process as he gives a shy smile before nodding.

“Of course mviss. Vaskier knows ver they are.”

A smirk plays at your lips as you find the bards gaze, “I should have know.” You mutter, turning your head to find Geralt, “Now to find that tavern.” You add suggestively with a quick wink. Causing your man to hand you the smallest of smiles in knowing acknowledgment.

“Alright, Finn. Take this pretty lady to her home for the night. You’ve got two others who’ll need a stall.” States Jaskier as he nods to his horse, “And uh, the one with the scary face and white hair, be good to his mare. She’s very special to him, more then the half-vampire that rides with us and..Oh! Oww! Y/N don’t hit me woman!” Stammers the bard as you fold your arms across your chest.

A smirk upon your lips at his flustered reaction, “What was that about Roach being more special then me? You didn’t finish what you where going to say.”

“Well I would have if I wasn’t assaulted first.” Assures Jaskier, turning back to the kid, “Anyways, we’re ready to find our stead’s a place for the night. Well perhaps a couple nights, we may be here for a few days give or take.”

“A few days? He never said anything about that?” Grumbles Geralt in that familiar gravelly voice of his, “Y/N did he mention a few days?”

Grasping your horses leather reigns in one hand, you rest the other on Geralt’s broad cloaked shoulder, “Oh where’s your festive spirit? Come on love this is gonna be fun. I can feel it.”

Turning to follow Jaskier and the stable boy into the barn, Geralt tugs for Roach to start walking, rolling his golden eyes as he watches you swagger into the large pine rimmed entrance. Though a small tinge of excitement rushes throughout his body when remembering that subtle wink you shared with him only moments ago.

Your crimson irises light up at the colorful flags and cozy barn atmosphere, perfect for the tired horses that so desperately could use a good rest. You’re never this impressed by such festive decorations most times, but it’s been a long while since you’ve bared witness to such things. It feels rather nice, and anyways, another adventure with your boys is always welcomed.

The stable boy quickly takes Jaskier’s horse to get settled for the night, leaving yourself to find your own stable and Geralt to do the same. You turn, leading your own mare into a hay covered stall and doing what you can to help her feel more comfortable.

Taking off her saddle, you lay it off to the side, going now to brush her brown back, smoothing her fur down as you do. While so lost in your own little world you can’t help but begin rambling about your thoughts to the patient horse.

“Now since it’s come to mind...I think this place isn’t too bad, ya know? I haven’t really met any of the townsfolk so my true impression of the people here have yet to be determined. Although I’m not really getting a hostile feeling coming from this place so that’s good.” The mare snorts in reply, or at least you think she does, causing you to chuckle at the horses timely reaction, “Yes, my friend that’s exactly what I was thinking but you already new that and now I am talking to a horse.....and Geralt is standing right over there isn’t he.” You rush, whispering the last part to your horse.

Geralt leans his large frame against the wooden stalls door, a small amused smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you brush the mare. “Not strange at all. I think they understand, in their own way.”

“Maybe it’s because I travel with you too much, look at me, I’m talking to a horse.” You mutter with a small laugh, “Though I guess their company can be better then an actual persons. I have a feeling you know my meaning.”

He smiles again, looking around the barn until his golden eyes find yours once more, “Better then most.”

You gently tilt your head in a small nod, brushing the last of the mares ruffled hide before setting the brush down. Then reaching for your belongings that are hanging from a metal hook inches from Geralt.

He politely steps to the side as you take your cloak and sheathed silver dagger from off of the hook, bundling them under your arm you take a step forward past him, stopping for a moment to not-so-subtly trail your eyes up to his handsome face.

“See something interesting?” He muses, eyeing you up just the same causing a swarm of butterflies to make themselves know in your stomach.

Biting your lip you refrain from pushing him against the wooden wall and kissing him like your life depends on it, deciding to instead hug your things tighter and give him a small fangy smile.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Is all you can whisper out as you swiftly turn on your heel to go and find Jaskier before you change your mind and pounce on your Witcher like a cat to her prey.

It doesn’t take long to find him, the bard is casually seated on some blocks of hay as he gently strums on his lute while the stable boy brushes his horse for him. Jaskier is so caught up in his own world of playing that he neglects to notice when you’re standing directly in front of him.

“Jask!” You vocalize loudly, causing the entranced bard to jump and just about drop his prized lute if not for the strap.

“My gods Y/N, warn a man would you.” He sputters, setting himself a bit straighter once again as he gathers his bearings, “I could have dropped my dear lady just now.”

Taking a couple steps backwards towards Geralt, you chuckle, “In that case, I’ll try harder next time.”

Jaskier sends you a silent dirty look, causing Geralt to slip a couple hushed snickers out from behind you. “Alright bard..” Starts your Witcher, “where’s the nearest tavern? Considering it’s late and we’re all hungry.”

Jumping to his feet, Jaskier nods, “Right. Right. Of course, a tavern would be nice. Well my friend...and Y/N...let’s go find one.”

“Yes let’s.” Mutters Geralt, annoyance lacing his voice as Jaskier practically swaggers past the two of you, lute tightly in hand.

You turn to follow, nudging Geralt’s shoulder as you step past him, “Come on my White Wolf, let’s find that tavern. I could use a good rest, how about you?” The wink you send him is all but enough to fill his mind with wondrous thoughts for how his evening may truly end.

His heart admittedly fills with warmth and excitement as he watches you trail Jaskier out of the barn and into the wintery night air. Soft cool snowflakes kiss your warm skin as you stand in the silver wonderland, waiting for your Witcher to catch up.

A pleased smirk shows itself upon your face as you turn your head up to the dark clouds, enjoying the feeling of the small ice crystals as they float all around you. The night is absolutely divine, as you enjoy the small white puffs of air leaving forth from out of your mouth and nostrils.

You feel no chill from the harsh winter air, though you’re surprised when a certain someone unexpectedly attempts to throw a snowball at your back. Hearing the ball of ice swishing in the crisp air, you step inhumanly quick to the side.

A burst of laughter falls forth from your lips when the snow crashes into the shoulder of Jaskier as he looks from house to house trying to remember where the tavern is. He jumps back, his blue eyes wide as he snaps his jostled attention over to you, and the snowy haired man smirking from behind you.

“That was—was....Y/N!” Grumbles the bard with an angry pout before he begins to smile and eventually shake with laughter as well.

Chuckling still, you turn a raised brow to Geralt as he simply shrugs, “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yeah okay, Sir. I-Didn’t-Even-Want-To-Come...” Suddenly your eyes narrow causing Geralt to loose his amusement, “You tried to hit me with a snowball, you fucker.”

Geralt takes a cautious step closer to you, a pleading look crossing his features, “And now I know how well your reflexes are.”

“You already know how well my reflexes are.”

“Yes. But...” He pauses for a moment, trying to think of what to say next as you await an answer, finally he takes another step closer, bringing his hand to tilt your head up with the tips of his fingers. His face so close now you can feel his hot breath against your skin, “I’ll deal with your wrath all night long if that’s what you’d wish.”

Gently removing his hand away from your face, you lean in even closer, your lips practically brushing past his own, “I think that is a deliciously appealing proposition, my love.”

Geralt has no time to answer before you swiftly shift away from him, leaving the man with his thoughts and slightly tighter pants as he watches you walk over to Jaskier once again, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.

It took about a good fifteen minutes to actually track down the tavern of Jaskier’s choice, an admittedly large and homey hall appropriately called The Silver Faun Inn. Quite the name for quite the tavern, as per usual when walking into anywhere on the continent in a place like this.

Your marry band of three was immediately greeted with a multitude of cautious glares and many other intrigued excited glances. Though to your relief, no one dares bother either of you while you make to find a quiet corner for the late hour of the darkening evening.

Soon fresh food and tasteful ale is to be had, filling the three of you up just enough to be satisfied for the night, but not too much, you’ve got plans for later. Plans that are so obviously unnoticed by the titular bard who’s now decided the tavern is in desperate need of entertainment.

Leaning into Geralt’s strong side, a lazy smirk upon your face, you watch in amusement as Jaskier joyously strums his favorite lute. “Don’t think I’ve heard that ballot before.” You whisper.

Your quiet Witcher hums in reply, earning him a light friendly squeeze to his forearm that rests on the table next to yours, “The enthusiasm radiating off of you is just, astounding.” You chuckle, burying your face into his shoulder.

Geralt smiles affectionately at your adorable reaction to his less then impressive one, his heart swells with more silent joy when you pull away once again. Only to stop yourself from speaking, your scarlet irises so caught up in your lovers humored face.

You remain quiet for a moment, your face stoic though your eyes crinkle with mischief before you finally break out into a large beaming grin. Without a second thought, Geralt leans in to gently press his plush inviting lips against yours for a beautiful moment of love and lust.

He feels so lovely, you can tell just how much he truly wants you, but all to soon does he pull away, “I think we should find that room, what do you say Y/N?”

Biting your lip, you stare longingly into his golden eyes, “Fantastic idea. I got the keys so let’s get outta here.”

In a heartbeat do the two of you slip from the taverns quiet corner to wander past your oblivious bard as he belts out another marvelous tune that sends the crowd into fits of song and laughter. Soon all is forgotten and left to the back of your minds as you lead your Witcher up the steps and down to the end of the hallway where your room just so happens to be.

Quickly going to unlock it, you’re bewildered when the little metal key won’t turn left, huffing in frustration you try and force it as gently as you can muster. Geralt leans an arm against the doorframe doing nothing to help you focus on your new task at hand.

“Y/N just turn it left.”

“I am turning it left.”

“More gently.”

“I am turning it gently.”

“How much did you drink?” He chuckles.

Snapping your head to him you playfully make a face, “Same as you idiot, now if only I could fucking get this bitch open then we could...” Errreck. Crack. “Oh fuck me.” You deadpan.

“I’m trying.” Muses Geralt.

Smacking Geralt against his arm you take a step away from the broken lock, “Dammit. I broke the fucking key....and I think the lock too.”

“Can you open it now?”

Sighing in annoyance you raise a brow at your man, “Well uh, guess we’ll find out.”

Turning towards the thick wooden mahogany door with its freshly broken lock, you nervously reach a hand up to turn the golden door handle, sucking in a breath you twist the knob only to be met with resistance.

Pursing your lips together you lean your head against the door, “Whoever made these shit locks I’ll fucking cut their hands off cause apparently they don’t need them anymore with whatever kinda fuckery this is.” You growl.

All you wanna do is get it on with Geralt, this is not helping.

“You could just force the door.” Suggests Geralt.

“I’m not forcing the door love, I really don’t need a bounty on me for breaking a knob.”

“Well, guess we’ll just have to sleep in Jaskier’s room tonight then.” Replies your Witcher with a shit eating grin, he knows just how much you want him right now. And so help you god if you don’t get what you want when it comes to a night with Geralt of Rivia.

“No! No! I can handle the fucking door!” You sass.

Taking a step back into the hallway, he folds his arms over his chest, “Alright then. Open the door Y/N.” Smirks Geralt, urging you to create some chaos.

Huffing, you take a step back, readying yourself to charge the grand mahogany door. The smirk on your Witcher’s face is admittedly smackable or kissable, you just can’t bring it in you to focus on anything else but opening this door. He watches in anticipation as you charge, hands out and ready to force open the closed entrance as you make hasty steps for the tavern room.

Without warning the giant door swings opens, taking you off guard as you fly through the new opening and into the grand room before falling to the hard floor with a grunt. Your chin smacks the wooden floorboards with a thwack sound, your opened palms doing just the same when you land.

“Ouch.” You mutter, lifting yourself up from the ground, turning when your nose catches the scent of someone new.

Snapping to your right, you’re caught with big brown fearful eyes of a young maid, “Oh, uh....your room is ready miss.”

Not aware of the less then friendly grimace adorning your face, Geralt steps into the room before you decide to shove the girl out yourself, “Sorry. The lock wasn’t working, I think we may have broken it.”

Quickly snapping out of her frightened trance, the girl turns a nervous eye to your Witcher, “Um, that key you have there...it’s not the right one. I’ll just uh....leave then.” She whispers, her eyes never leaving yours as she hastily slips out of the room and down the hallway.

Geralt gently closes the door, shoving a chair under the handle to create a makeshift lock while you take a couple steps forward over to the large mattress, resting a hand on the bed. He turns to you, “Well that was...”

“Entertaining much?” You scoff, rubbing your split chin, “I think I’m bleeding....no yeah, I’m definitely bleeding.”

Geralt hums, nodding before walking over to find a small spare cloth on the nearby table, “Sit on the bed I’ll clean you up.”

Doing just as directed you sit, watching as your silver haired lover walks across the room to seat himself next to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Rolling your eyes you pout, “Funny is it? The things I do for you, and now my fucking chin hurts.”

Suddenly his eyes go soft, though there still remains a tinge of humor in them, “Y/N, you’ve already healed and the pain will die soon enough....here, let me just clean the blood away.” He mutters, reaching his arm up to press the pale cloth against your blood smudged skin.

Fine, ignore my pain you ass.

Though you’re still annoyed, the feeling of being tended to by Geralt is enough to dissipate away all your recent frustrations and brewing anger. Sending you into a blissful minute of staring lazily into your mans pretty golden eyes like a dazed lover.

Once he’s confident all the blood is gone, he sets the pink cloth in his lap, saying nothing as the two of you stare deeply into the eyes of one another, the sexual tension of the room rising by the second. You slip out a soft breath, the tiniest of smiles pulling at your lips.

“This is the part where you kiss my pain away. Right here.” You point at your chin, just below your lips. His golden eyes dart down, following your directions.

Ever so meticulously slowly does he lean in closer, the blood smudged cloth left and forgotten as it falls to the floor when his large hands go to touch your face. His lips press softly onto your chin, then cheek, then the other, and another two over your jawline. Earning a satisfied hum of approval from you, much to Geralt’s satisfaction.

Your own hands grasp onto his thick forearms, the rest of yourself feeling rather warm all over as Geralt kisses all over your face, slowly as ever.

“You know..” Kiss, “Geralt, mhmm....my lips are right here...” You mutter, just as he presses a heated one onto the preferred area you’ve asked. He tastes so sweet, like the ale he drank earlier in the evening, but this is admittedly much better then any ale you’ve ever drank.

Soon his hands fall to your waist and arm, then to many other places as he decides to explore your body with his calloused hands. Not being one to hold back, you do just the same, earning a low husky moan from deep within his throat when you palm him just to see what’s going on down there.

Fortunately he’s decently hard, the fabric of his dark pants are nicely stretched out from what pleasantries await you soon enough. Leaving him be for the moment, you gently break away from his sweet lips.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” You chuckle at the annoyed expression adorning his handsome features, “I’m just, rather wet down here and I’d like to get things rolling. Though don’t get me wrong I could kiss those lips of yours all fucking day.” You add, deliberately doing your best to give him your bedroom eyes.

He pauses for a second, his eyes trailing from your clothed nether regions all the way up to your shimmering lust filled gaze, “You’re already wet?”

Rolling your eyes you reach out to pull him further up the bed, “Oh fuck off, you’re already harder then a frozen ice cycle and that was before we even got into this room so shut uh uhh mhmm...” Is all you’re able to ramble out before he’s attacked your neck again with those beautifully plush lips of his, the rest of his body hovering just above you as he rests a knee between your parted thighs.

His lips leave a wet trail all the way down your throat until they reach the edge of your tops laced fabric, where a clear V is had that reaches down to the area between your breasts. He kisses once on the lace and exposed skin on your sternum, then another further down.

He’s just about driving you wild with the frustratingly grand lack of friction in certain areas that are so desperately craving such attention. Done with his teasing you lightly tug at his long white hair.

“Geralt just fuck me already.” You mumble, sucking in a quick breath when he gently squeezes your breast without warning.

Kissing your cheek, his face remains mere inches from your own as he stares mischievously into your crimson eyes, “We may need to take some clothes off first.” He chuckles, planting a quick kiss to your lips before sitting back on the bed.

Laying there, body hot and pulsing with pleasure unreleased, you hastily sit up and fumble as fast as you can to remove your grey top. Flinging it to the floor as your eyes find Geralt’s once again, though this time he’s completely shirtless.

Drinking up every last little piece of your muscular Witcher, you bite your lip as he smiles at you, “And that’s a sight I could look at everyday.” You just about swoon at his quick witted words, no doubt feeling a bit heated the longer he stares at you.

Winking at him, you swiftly shed the thin dark material calling itself an undershirt, a playful gleam in your eye as you watch Geralt quickly find your two exposed breasts. Beautiful and soft, your nibbles perked at the arousal coursing throughout your entire vessel.

Wanting to be bold, you wiggle a brow at him before confidently standing, your eyes never leaving his. He watches with an intrigued curious gaze before you begin unbuttoning your black trousers, earning another blissful smirk across the mans face.

Soon enough are all the buttons finally undone, with a spectacular dramatic bow do you then go to shimmy out of your pants, kicking them to the wooden floor in a rush as you’re now left in nothing but your small whole filled and slightly ripped underwear.

As to be expected, Geralt reaches a hand out to touch your exposed legs, getting nothing but a quick playful kick to his hands as you hum in disapproval. Instead you go to set a hand on your hip, nodding your head for him to remove his own concealing attire.

He hums in reply, standing to his full height as you unabashedly watch him fully undress himself, tossing his pants and undergarments to the floor ever so dramatically. He stares you down with those big beautiful golden eyes of his, you keep your sights locked onto them and painfully ignore his now exposed member that’s hard and dripping with pre-cum.

Biting your lip, you try your absolute best to keep from smiling, “Fuck me I love you so much.” You speak breathlessly, your eyes turning more serious again, “Now sit, please.”

Geralt hums, seating himself upon the soft billowy mattress just as directed, deciding to lean back on his arms and let his body lay open and ready for you. Blinking slowly you finally reveal a pleased smile down at him, just about mirroring the same one that he’s handing you so freely, just like his body.

Slowly you walk forward on the bed, your legs held firmly to either side of his lower waist as you kneel down, hovering your soaked womanhood right above his glistening member. You let out a breathy chuckle, resting your palms against his broad shoulders as he does the same action but with your bare hips.

“May I?” You politely ask, leaning your head against his as he gently squeezes the flesh of your hips in reply.

“Of course.” He mutters, low and gravelly in your ear as he patiently awaits your body, his very heart about to explode with how much he loves you right now.

Parting your legs wider, you remove one hand from his shoulder to quickly grasp his thick cock, “Alright let me just...” Bringing it to your dripping entrance you line it up perfectly, “I’m coming in..” You laugh, “literally.”

“Y/N you don’t have to say it...”

Digging your fingers into the side of his shoulder you quickly tilt your head to shut him up with a kiss, “Yes, but you laughed.” Pulling back to look at your face, Geralt’s mouth opens to reply, though his words are left on the wind when you slowly slide yourself onto him.

The new welcoming warmth of your core sending his mind swirling with nothing but a colorful bliss. Yours about the same, he’s big as he sinks deeper and deeper into your body until finally he’s completely filled you up.

Closing your eyes, your face scrunches up in slight discomfort at the new thrilling contact, this feeling isn’t anything new it’s just he’s quite large and you need a couple moments to adjust before the real fun begins. Sensing your slight displeasure, he keeps still inside you, trailing a comforting hand over your cheek as he watches your brows furrow together as you adjust.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t mean to hurt you.” Worries your beautiful Witcher as you open your glistening scarlet irises to find his concerned face.

Shaking your head you slowly roll your hips into his, “Never. Apologize for a big dick Geralt....you’re honestly about to work wonders so keep that pretty mouth shut and make me scream.”

Holding in his laughter, he decides to do just as you’ve asked, a second later do you gasp in surprise when both his hands dig into your hips. Pushing you down onto him even more as he pulls you with each roll of your hips against his. Creating a blissful synced rhythm that begins to bring a low pleasurable build into your soaked core.

He suddenly thrusts up into you as you bounce down on him over and over again, your chests rubbing against one another as you both attempt to hold each other’s gazes for as long as you can try. The room feels hot and sticky, the smells of sex, sweat, and Geralt filling into your sensitive nostrils that drives you mad with lust.

All that can be heard is the familiar slapping of skin on skin as you both move against one another in quick passionate motions. Without warning Geralt thrusts deeply into your sweet spot sending you into a flurry of moaned curses as he thrusts his strong hips into you over and over again.

Your body falls flush against his as you whimper and moan into his shoulder from the intense buildup of pure pleasure that he’s slowly filling you with by the second. He can tell you’re close and with that thought in mind you’re pleasantly surprised when he abruptly holds your back, keeping you against him as he quickly lays you onto the soft mattress.

You audibly moan at the new positioning, not being able to hold back any more whimpers of pleasure as he fucks you into the comfortable bedding like his life depends on it. You’re visibility sweaty now, the slickness of yourself and Geralt doing everything to increase your growing pleasure as he slides in and out of you like a crazed man gone years without a proper fucking.

Another moan escapes from your lips as Geralt bounds you into the mattress, hitting you with deep precise thrusts each and every time, leaving you with nothing to keep you steady but his bare back that no doubt is covered in fresh pink scratch marks.

He keeps flush against your body, his manhood buried deep within your parted thighs as he intertwines his fingers with yours, his lips so soft and inviting as they press against your neck and jaw. You can’t remember if you’re ever felt such pleasure from this man as he pulls you to the edge of oblivion.

He suddenly moans against your ear sending new waves of bliss deep into your core and just like that do you come, moaning his name over and over again as he relentlessly thrusts into you with all that he has left.

He grips your hands tight, his warm seed spilling into you a second later, causing you to squeeze your legs tighter against his, “Ugh fuck Geralt.” You moan, your lips brushing past his as he pumps into you for a few more blissful moments before he falls limp against your body.

Utterly spent with your heated love making session, you chuckle at his honestly adorable actions as he lays flush with you, his cock still buried deep inside. He may be a large heavy man, but you’re no common human woman who lays underneath this handsome Witcher.

It’s plain as anyone could see, though you’d cut the throats of anyone bold enough to take a peek at your secretive actions.

Humming in content, Geralt moves to lay at your side, bringing you along with him so that he can stay inside you for a bit longer. You smirk, holding him close as he does the same, “A little needy tonight are we?” You muse, placing a chaste kiss against his puffy red lips.

“Maybe I missed you in more ways then one.” He replies, his golden eyes finding your crimson ones, “It certainly doesn’t help that Jaskier is always with us when we set up camp. I never get a true moment to myself with you.”

Trailing a hand down his scar covered back, you smile once again, “Well you’re about to get a whole week with me if you’re lucky. And I’m looking forward to every single second of it.”

The way you make him feel cannot ever truly be expressed in Geralt’s mind, though you can tell he loves you deeply even when no words are said at all or perhaps when he gets flustered and stumbles on his tongue for the right ones. Though right now he seems to have you vexed, completely entranced and utterly opened and surrendered to him.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same, his eyelids close in content as you gently trail your fingers down his cheekbone, earning a low hum from deep within his throat that sends shivers down your spine even with something so innocent as this.

You break out into a grin, your fangs showing as you let out a couple chuckles once you realize he’s still inside you. His own lips curl into a tired smile, though he doesn’t open his eyes. “Y/N?” He mutters, wondering what on earth could be so funny right now.

Pushing a few stray hairs out of his face you blink, trying to contain yourself once more, “Oh nothing, you’re just being....dare I say, cute. And all things considered, you’re still inside me.”

Geralt shows you a lazy grin, “I like being inside you.”

“Yes and what if I have to relieve myself, or get a drink?”

“I see no problem when you’re lucky enough to be laying next to me.”

Fake scoffing you gently tug on his silver locks, “Geralt of Rivia you’re blessed enough I love you so much you ass.”

Finally he opens his eyes, the most adorable of smiles crossing his face, and only for you, “Well I guess someone has to.”

“Yes.” You smirk, “And I’ll make disappear the next confidant fucker who dare think to take you away from me.”

“So I’m assuming that last tavern wench we met a month ago went missing....not, under mysterious circumstances?” He wonders, a brow raised in humored accusation.

Rolling your scarlet irises, you give him a friendly pat over his bare shoulder, “I wasn’t appreciating that foxy look she was giving you, looked like a horny buck ready to pounce.” The look he gives you is enough to make you burst with laughter, “What? Don’t give me that face Geralt, I didn’t do anything adherently evil....all I did was leave her in the middle of the woods...near another town!” You protest, trying to make your little petty adventure sound less terrible.

“Well, at least you were nice about it,” Muses Geralt, “though I’m not sure if that’s better.”

“Oh shut it, I couldn’t help myself if you’d like to know alri...” Knock. Knock. Knock. Three raps against the thick bedroom door immediately draws your attention away from Geralt. Propping his head up by his elbow, he turns a protective glare at the mystery person keeping themselves on the other side.

Wanting to snap at the hidden individual who dare break you away from your rather pleasant evening, you push away from the soft comfort of the mattress, quickly pulling out of Geralt, you maneuver yourself into a seated position. “I’ll see who it is, can’t be anyone with a personal vendetta against us, well.....at least I don’t think so.”

Pursing his lips together in slight apprehension, Geralt silently watches you slip from the bed with nothing but a thin white sheet to keep your nakedness from any prying eyes. Your steps to the barred door are swift and silent as an owl in flight, just the same when you remove the chair from the door knob.

With one hand on the golden knob and the other grasped tightly onto the bunched up bed sheet, you turn a curious glance to Geralt who’s now seated fully upright on the mattress, a thin sheet covering his previously exposed manhood.

Finding your sights upon the door once again, you turn the knob, swiftly opening the door where you’re both greeted with the nervous wide eyed face of a young elven boy, who looks only to be about fourteen, dressed in lord-like attire. A suspiciously high status pose about him that sends your brows furrowing in confusion for this strange unexpected intrusion.

Wearing a soft purple scarf over a pure white thick fur laced jacket, his green eyes shift warily from you to your shirtless Witcher then back to you again. His cheeks most certainly reddening the longer he stares, mouth slightly agape, clearly this kid was not expecting the sight before him.

Deciding to relieve the awkward atmosphere, you clear your throat, “Well you certainly don’t look like an assassin, nor do you appear to be ready with coin for a wanted killing. So, do relieve us of this suspense...I was kind of in the middle of something important.” You state, the tone of your voice appearing slightly annoyed even when you try and hide it.

His big emerald irises flicker as he blinks, swallowing his nerves, does the elven boy in the fancy coat and purple scarf stand a bit straighter, “Hello. I am Venemyr of Rorym, messenger to Queen Allira and her husband King Gabriel of this winter kingdom of Turga.” He stammers, eyes shifting nervously from Geralt to you, suddenly he pulls out a folded piece of white and gold craftsmanship in the form of a beautiful card.

His hand shakes slightly as he reaches out for you to take the concealed letter, finding no ill intent from the boy, you fearlessly accept. Once in your hand does he finally begin his explanation, “I come to ask the Princess Y/N of Alkatraz and the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, if they will accept this invitation to the King and Queen’s eldest son’s banquet as special guests of honor.”

Oh, now things have just gotten very intriguing.

Not positive on how to correctly respond to this large proposition, the young elven messenger nods, “My adversaries had been made aware of you two by a bard named Jaskier who is thought of warmly in this kingdom, then it appeared that the eldest prince became very interested in meeting a lady dhampir and a Witcher of Kaer Morhen.”

Oh, Jaskier you motherfucker.

Smiling politely, Vesemyr watches with wide foresty eyes when he catches sight of your fangs, noticing his apparent change of demeanor, your face falls, “Uh, well, thank you for the message and this invitation? We’ll see to it soon, and without a doubt report back accordingly sometime tomorrow.”

“The banquet is in two days.”

“Is it now?” You reply in a knowing tone, your brows raising, “Good to know, now if you’ll excuse us...the hour is late and you’d better get to wherever you’ve come from before it gets any colder outside.” And with that said do you flash him a wink before slamming the door into his scared little face and high end attire without a second thought.

Looking down at the strange yet exquisite invitation placed in your hand, you turn it over and find the golden waxes seal of a house sigil. “Y/N come to bed, I think I’d like to have a look at whatever fuckery Jaskier has roped us into.”

Raising your attention back up to the naked man seated casually against the headboard, you smile, making swift steps to the mattress before launching yourself next to his side causing the bed to shift and creak at your jostling movement. Instead of finding his annoyed expression, you’re fortunately greeted with an arm pulling you flush against his side.

With the two of you wrapped up in the white bedsheets, leaning comfortably on one another does Geralt slowly take the parchment from out of your hand. He holds the letter up, studying it’s beauty in the side table’s candle light as you rest your head on his shoulder with one arm slung over his muscular waist.

His breaths are slow and calm, the rise and fall of his chest gently pushing you up and then back down again only ever so slightly while your Witcher carefully observes the golden wax of the houses sigil. “A stag, with a crown of leaves....should we open it?” Muses Geralt, fully aware of how much you want to see what’s inside.

Geralt I swear to god.

Gently giving his waist a loving squeeze, you nod, “If you’d be so kind.” Humming in reply, Geralt makes quick work of the letter, soon its cut open and pulled out for your eyes to witness its ink marked contents.

“Fuck.” Mutters Geralt dismally, “Guess that kid wasn’t fucking with us.”

“And I guess we’re going to a party.” You exclaim, much more excitement flowing through your voice then what Geralt could ever give.

He quickly turns his head down to you, “Y/N no. I don’t give a shit if this prince wants to speak with us, I have no interest in becoming involved in something like that.”

You lightly chuckle at his less then stellar mood before turning your face to press a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder, he sighs, meeting your crimson gaze once again, “Think of it, free drink and food, and this prince wants to see us....we’re practically the guests of honor and I cannot wait to see Jaskier tomorrow cause I’m gonna slap him for it...then I’ll thank him.”

“Ugh, fine.” Begrudgingly mutters Geralt as you press your lips to his.

Maybe a part 2 later on, idk we’ll see. Hope you enjoyed this :)

Tagged for series: @seninjakitey @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce @diegos-butt (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work) @a-girl-who-loves-disney

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt imagine #geralt x you #geralt x y/n

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cherry-gemz · 3 years

Text

Open Book: Part I

Summary: As the Assistant Librarian for a small town in Florida, you find yourself intrigued with an extraordinary little girl and her charming uncle. As each day goes by, you teach the girl about adventure and mystery with your love of books. Little do you know what's in store for you next.

Pairings: Y/N and Frank Adler

Rating: PG, all fluff

Word count: IDK, failed at the assignment 2k+ lol. So I split the fic.

Challenge Prompt: Write a story about someone trying to find the perfect birthday gift.

A/N: Happiest of birthdays dear @a-little-counter-esperanto. You are the bees knees and really a true gem! I'm so happy we've become friends - we have so many things in common it's cray. I'm wishing you all the love and happiness, sunshine! May you continue to have a fantastic birthday sleepover and enjoy being loved by all! Hope you enjoy the fic xx - Cherry

"Did you get the flowers?" Mary asked as she sat on the couch flipping through the tv.

Frank patted his chest and then his jeans in search of his keys.

"What?"

Mary kept changing the channels without a beat,"Frank. You're supposed to buy a girl flowers on the date."

Frank furrowed his brow, "Uh...no. Have you seen my keys? Really?"

Mary rolled her eyes, "She's not gonna kiss you goodnight."

He searched on the kitchen table and rummaged through old mail when a knock at the door interrupted his concentration. As he bee-lined to the door, Mary turned off the tv and hopped off the couch to grab her latest book she'd chiseled her way through for the week.

Frank swung the door open abruptly and started you as you stood at their doorstep.

"Hey! You made it, great!" Frank exclaimed. "Sorry, my head's a mess."

Mary now situated herself at the kitchen table and shouted over her shoulder, "It's because he hasn't been on a real date in over six months."

Frank turned red," What? No...I mean yes, but jeez, Mary. Remember we talked about how to read a room?"

He turned back to you, "Come in, come in. I'm just trying to find my keys."

You chuckled and nodded to the doorknob which held his set of keys and he smacked his forehead.

As you walked into the house, you noticed little knickknacks here and there on shelves. And books. Mountains of books everywhere. Piling on top of each other.

"Hi Mary," you smiled as she kept her back to you, nose deep in her book.

"Mary…" Frank scolded as he put his hands on his hips.

"Hi, Ms. Y/N."

You smiled as you approached her, "May I sit?"

She nodded in agreement and you pulled out a chair.

"I brought you something…" you say as you rummage through your canvas bag for your book on crabs. "Well, actually I was hoping you could help me...see…"

Frank smiled as he saw the two of you bonding. He caught himself admiring you more than he'd like to admit as he needed to head off to his date soon. He appreciated your assistance with babysitting Mary as the two of you first met at the local library. His date, Justine, was a waitress at the bar he would visit from time to time. While there was a chemistry between them, it was really just through vanity. With you, he had come to know you at a deeper level: the way you’d squint or furrow your brow when reviewing your clipboard. Or how adorable you’d look chewing on the cap of your pen when trying to finalize an email at your desk. He saw that you loved the color yellow, considering how many skirts and cardigans you’d paired together. And that you were a romantic at heart - the classics were your fave to read and how’d you get lost in historical facts when he had first asked you what your hobbies were. Seeing how a beautiful person you were, inside and out, he now regretted asking Justine out with you on his mind.

Mary's eyes scanned the books of quantum physics and mathematics. At first you thought perhaps she had another book instead, but as you watched her day in and day out, you were astounded at the tiny prodigy and her ability to ascertain such knowledge at her age. You'd correct the cataloging errors for the day and find her reading for enjoyment it seemed.

Then one day Frank arrived. Mary had always left on her own, but as if it were any old regular day, the handsome uncle came to retrieve his stellar niece. He had a warmness to him. His dark brown hair and beard complemented his face, one that was obvious in an overall attractiveness. And he was kind, he showed that by adopting his niece after her mother had passed away and truly nurturing her gifted talent. You learned he fixed boats for a living and lived not too far from the library. You smiled at the odd pair together, they somehow seemed to work however.

As you checked their books out, Mary tiptoed over the large walnut desk and glanced at you.

"You're pretty," she stated.

"Mary. What did we say?" Frank tsked, embarrassed, but didn't disagree with her observation.

"What? Frank, you told me that I need to state facts, rather than assumptions. And I am stating a fact that Ms. Y/LN is pretty. Do you think she's pretty, Frank?"

Frank coughed into his fist and blushed, you smirked, half wanting to know his answer, half laughing inside of how Mary was so blunt.

"Yes, Ms. Y/LN is very pretty," he replied and gazed at your eyes. He licked his lips and you had to turn away feeling flushed. You closed the last book and placed it in Mary's backpack.

"All set," you replied. "These are due on the 23rd."

Frank zipped up the backpack and slung it over his broad shoulder. "Thanks, we'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh?" You replied as Mary looked at you both attempting to assess the flirtation occuring before her eyes.

"Well, yeah, she loves it here, I mean. And we have a few other books to return."

"Yes, we'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Mary."

"Bye," Mary replied and skipped off.

Frank showed up every day after that. You found it endearing, but not wanting to read into something that wasn't there, you focused your attention on Mary. That only seemed to peak his interest further. While he had a knack for attracting women, his heart was never in it for the long haul since the minute they found out about Mary, they'd either run away from the possible responsibility, or Mary would run them off herself. But with you it was different. You were genuine and kind to Mary. Knowing quite well of her mathematical abilities, you would challenge her in other areas: art, zoology, history. You found that while she could read more college level books than any person you met in the small town, she still was a child wanting to learn about all other aspects of life. You'd sit together at a table: you, reviewing inventory spreadsheets for the latest book fair and her, immersed in some book that would put you to sleep at night.

"Frank, you should ask Ms. Y/LN out," Mary stated one day as the three of you sat at a table together. Frank practically choked and you shook your head, secretly wanting to say yes.

"Aw, Mary. Well, I bet Ms. Y/LN has guys lined up at her door every night."

"No, she doesn't," Mary replied as she turned a page of her book. Frank laughed and placed his hand on Mary's shoulder, pretending to shake her.

"Well, actually Ms. Y/LN…" he said as your heart skipped a beat.

"Y/N," you interrupted. "You can call me Y/N. I feel we're on a first name basis now considering you're here everyday."

“Y/N,” he smiled. His hair was more combed today. You had noticed that he seemed to be disheveled when you first met him, however either Mary’s tactics were rubbing off on him, or it was your pure imagination.

“Yes?” you piped. You haven't been regularly dating lately. There just weren’t many prospects these days. Not ones that could keep up with conversation, let alone intellect. So instead, you found yourself immersed with your favorite fictional characters in the sea of books you’d grown to know and love.

His brow furrowed, he seemed nervous and he picked at the edge of a book as he attempted to gather his thoughts.

“Do you have a favorite book?” Mary interrupted as Frank turned to her, but seemingly glad she saved him from embarrassment.

“Do I have a favorite book? Hmmm...” you thought and a childish smile appeared on your face. “I have many favorite books, Mary...The Velveteen Rabbit, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe…”

“Yeah, but what’s like your most favorite book?”

You extended your hand out to her and she willingly accepted. Frank perked up his interest as he watched the two of you scamper off into the fiction area. Curious, he stood up and decided to follow. The two of you giggled quietly as you made your way around the columns, your free hand lightly ghosting over the spines of the books. The subtle scent of paper and dust permeated Frank’s sense of smell. He was more of an outdoorsy person nowadays as he had left behind his scholarly days teaching in Boston. It’s where Mary learned most from, his appetite to keep learning, vernacular, and wit . You slowed down and perused a row until you found your favorite book.

“Aha!” you exclaim and hid the book behind your back as Mary jumped up and down with excitement. “Now, I’m not sure if this is something you’d be interested in, it’s more for ten year olds in my opinion. However, I know you’re a very mature young lady and I find that you’d quite enjoy the story if you give it a chance.”

Frank smiled, perplexed as to what book could possibly be your favorite. You pulled the book from behind and showed Mary.

“Little Women,” she stated. “By Louisa May Alcott.”

“Yes. It’s a beautiful story, really. About sisters and the trials they endure during the American Civil War. There’s friendship, love, and growth.”

Mary bunched her nose, you could tell she was on the fence about whether she’d enjoy a story about fictional sisters and yucky love stuff. You started to pull it away, however she grabbed it from your hands. You laughed and looked at Frank who leaned onto the columns and folded his arms.

“Seems someone is wanting to expand their horizons,” he chuckled.

“So it seems,” you smiled back as Mary skipped off to return to the table leaving the two of you behind.

“I’m more of a Lord of the Rings man myself.”

“Really?” you responded playfully. “The Hobbit included, right?”

“Of course,” he scoffed. “I think I actually just read that one to be honest, I just wanted to impress you. I spent my time reading Calvin and Hobbes more, probably how Mary learned my sarcasm.”

You laugh and touch his forearm as a reflex, but quickly realize and pull away. The spark that you felt when you connected was undeniable. You felt butterflies with him standing next to you and you hoped he hadn’t noticed your inability to remain calm.

“Y/N…” he started to say nervously. “Would it be alright if I called ya? Maybe we can get together sometime?”

“Oh, umm,” you replied, caught off guard. While you definitely had caught feelings for the handsome man, you never would have thought it’d be reciprocated. You stuttered, trying to gather your response.

Your hesitation threw him off, and he quickly replied, “I mean...like to sit for Mary or whatever. She really likes you.”

“Of course...yes,” you reply defeated in hopes that he would have asked you out. Instead of asking why he didn’t, you started to walk back to Mary. Frank scrunched his face in frustration in knowing he missed his shot with you and blurted out the most platonic question instead. He realized as well and quickly shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and followed your lead.

Frank watched as you comfortably plopped yourself next to Mary on the couch, dreading that he had to meet up with Justine. He’d much rather relax on the couch with you and the rugrat, enjoying some silly kids movie together.

You peered over the couch, “Is it okay if she has popcorn?”

“What? Yes,” Mary said flatly and jumped off the couch to the kitchen.

“Okay, miss. But not too much sugar. Bedtime is still at 9,” Frank replied as you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s the weekend, Frank,” Mary called out from the kitchen.

“Yes, but-“

“Will you be late?” you asked.

He looked at you in surprise, “Um, no. Probably before ten?”

“Okay, have fun.”

“It’s Y/N’s birthday,” Mary replied, carrying two coke bottles and a bag of jelly beans.

You shook your head in regret of ever telling the child when your birthday was. She was so inquisitive that day, asking about all your favorites: food, animals, books, and now birthday.

“It’s your birthday?!” Frank asked.

“Yeah, no big deal.”

“How old are you?” Mary asked as she set the drinks on the coffee table and then remembered how Frank would scold her about leaving water rings. She grabbed the coasters and placed them under the bottles.

“Mary!” Frank detested and placed his hands on his hips.

“How old do you think I am?” You tease, waving off to Frank that it was okay.

“Older than Justine, that’s for sure. She said she was 24, but looks 34. But she acts like she's 12. She hasn't even read anything on quantum physics, she thought wave mechanics was something Frank was working on with a boat,” she said coolly and popped a few jelly beans into her mouth. She nestled herself back into the couch cushions and wiggled her feet.

“Mary Elizabeth!” Frank’s voice boomed as he entered the living room.

Mary leaned over to whisper to you, “Frank says I'm not supposed to correct older people. Nobody likes a smart-ass.”

“And a busy body,” he huffed.

You nodded and laughed quietly, entertained at his expense.

“Well I am 32,” you smiled and looked at your watch, “As of one hour ago as a matter of fact.”

“That’s good. You’re much more mature than Justine and a better fit for him. Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Mary…that’s it. You’re on your last warning,” Frank bellowed. “Don’t make me let Y/N go home and then you’re stuck with me tonight.”

“What? No! Okay. I’m sorry,” she lamented and folded her arms.

Frank’s demeanor changed as he turned to you, “I hadn’t known it was your birthday. Don’t feel pressured to sit for her tonight if you have other plans.” Secretly he wanted to cancel on Justine and spend the night celebrating you instead.

“Oh it’s okay! It kind of appeared out of nowhere. I usually go back home and celebrate with friends and family, but my schedule didn’t permit it this year. Next year, perhaps.”

“What’s your favorite dessert?” Mary asked as she chewed on another handful of jelly beans.

“Red velvet cheesecake,” you smiled. “I have a sweet tooth.”

Frank couldn’t concentrate on his date with Justine. His mind was elsewhere. On you. Justine grazed her hand as they sat next to each other at the bar. He seemed unfazed by her gesture and looked at his watch, 9:14pm. Would it be too obvious if he cut the date short that he was into you? He coughed and took a swig of his beer.

“Do you wanna come back to my place?” She cooed and bit her lip in anticipation.

“What? Oh actually I was gonna head out. The sitter needed me home by 9:30,” he lied.

“Oh, sitter?”

“Yeah, Mary. Remember? My niece?”

“That’s right. How old is she again?”

“Seven,” He said, annoyed. He recalled they had met once before. The bartender approached them and handed Frank the receipt.

“Hey, do you have any desserts on the menu?”

Justine’s ears perked in curiosity of where he was going with asking about dessert.

The bartender grunted slightly and threw a mangled tri-fold menu and Frank grabbed it quickly.

“Buddy, ring me up for the red velvet cupcake.”

#Laurens birthday challenge #Lauren's birthday sleepover #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #frank adler #gifted #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fluff #♡ frank adler ♡#open book

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lazarettta · 3 years

Text

Misthios V

Pairing (Mother Miranda x Spartan!Reader)

Rating (T)

Word Count (1.9k)

Warning (Language)

You spend your morning with Alcina and her daughters while Miranda deals with Karl and Village business.

By the time the sun had begun to peak over the mountains you'd already made yourself at home on one of the balconies of the castle with a woven basket full of croissants and mason jar full of freshly squeezed orange juice. You'd been snooping in the kitchen looking for a snack when you found the partially hidden side door. It was shielded by produce crates and bags of potatoes—you guessed it was an old service door or something, and it was probably what the help around the castle used to sneak around the castle grounds while their Mistress sleeps.

You certainly did. You took a trip to town on a whim and you were bored. You didn't have anything on you in terms of currency but you weren't one to rely on some currency to get you by as there was always a favor or two to be traded. New era, same tricks and it never failed you once. Most of the village was still asleep when you strolled through but the few farmers you saw tending to their stocks gave you less than friendly looks but you didn't take any offense. You were new and places like this didn't take too kindly to a new face, especially a young new face.

Hell, the woman in the bakery shop by the church wasn't very fond of you either until you revealed that you understood every word that she said. She turned into a different person and suddenly you weren't much of a stranger anymore, by her standards anyway.

By the time you found your way back to castle Dimitrescu, you had bruised knuckles, a basket full of goodies you probably shouldn't be eating and a decent knife now warming the holster in your boot. It wasn't tactical or as balanced as you liked but you felt a hell of a lot better with it than you did a few hours ago without it.

You had no idea who's bedroom you'd invaded to get to the balcony though you didn't really care, you saw a plush chair that was only just covered in ice and the cushions were only just a little wet, shockingly.

And that is exactly how Alcina found you, and she wasn't alone. Trailing behind her bundled up even more than you with the hood pulled up over her blonde head was a young woman with eyes that matched Alcina's. Curious that she didn't get her mother's height though—she was probably around your height, give or take.

“You missed breakfast, dear.”

“Didn't think you'd send a hunting party for me,” you smiled but in truth you hadn't realized how much time had passed since you got back to the castle. Between stuffing your face full of bread you hadn't really had in years and well, yeah, you definitely lost track of time. Thankfully there were still a few pastries left in the basket for you to offer to Alcina and who you assumed to be one of her daughters.

The girl's eyes hadn't left you since she first saw you—you knew when you were being studied but for the moment, you were too tired to actually care but not tired enough to drop your guard with these people.

Alcina waved away your offering as she took a seat in the other chair, obviously as unbothered by it's less than ideal conditions as you were but her daughter graciously scooped up a buttered croissant before leaning against the rail, her back to the gorgeous view behind her. She was probably used to seeing it and you certainly weren't a stranger to such joys either but you never really grew bored of them.

“(Y/n), this is Bela, my eldest daughter. Also my successor should anything ever happen to me.”

“Mother, stop it. Nothing will ever happen to you.” You watched as Bela ducked her head, but she wasn't blushing, she turned to you, pushing the hood back from her face slightly but she didn't say anything.

Alcina pulled her cigar holder from somewhere on her dress she was currently wearing, and pointed down at the basket sitting on the small table between you three, “It's not safe to roam around on these roads at night.”

You shrugged, “I can take care of myself, Lady Dimitrescu. A few wolves don't really scare me.”

“There are far worse things out there than death, (Y/n).”

You scoffed, laughing a bit much to the dismay and surprise of the Lady and her daughter, “I've been around long enough to know how true and wise that statement is, but I'm far too old to be scared by it anymore.”

Bela looked at you curiously, “But you don't look a day over thirty, (Y/n).”

You bit back another laugh, picking at the pastry still sitting on the napkin on your thigh. Well. You weren't going to be getting any answers if you didn't give any yourself. “Who do you think Miranda got her skin care treatment from?”

You looked up when the other two balcony occupants were quiet for too long and you realized that they were both staring at you with equally unreadable but different expressions. Though Alcina's hat always made it impossible for you, or anyone else, to gauge her moods and reactions.

“What?”

“You're being serious?” Bela asked, both of her eyebrows disappearing beneath her loose hair.

“Yeah, seriously. I met Miranda back when she was ruling her first kingdom. She thought I was a fucking Viking for the longest time.” Miranda is going to murder you and find a way to make it permanent.

“You're joking. Mother, the mortal is joking...isn't she?”

“Mortal?” you finished your breakfast and wiped away the crumbs, “I haven't been called mortal for a very long time, but now that we've all established that no one on this balcony is of average stock...”

“We can really talk.” Alcina finished as you trailed off, taking a very long and heavy drag while giving you another once over, slower this time as if she was going to find the answers to whatever she was wanting to know. She glanced at her daughter and sighed when she saw her starting to tremble a bit.

“Bela go inside and get your sisters.” Alcina said softly but her tone still held no room for argument and you could tell that Bela wanted to protest against her mothers wishes, “Have tea prepared and brought to the study.”

“For everyone?”

Alcina smiled a bit, “Yes, dear, for everyone.”

When Bela was around the corner and well out of earshot, Alcina brought her attention back to you. And you looked back, waiting for her to ask or say what was on her mind.

“What era?”

“The Peloponnesian war. I'm the last living Spartan on Earth.”

Miranda neatly folded away the paper the moment she heard the ceremony doors opening. Miranda sighed heavily when she heard Karl’s mouth down the corridor—the man's need to chatter (and argue) never ceased and Miranda was positive she would be leaving this meeting with a migraine. She'd rather be doing something more productive with her time…working on her own research, cracking you like an egg or maybe even trying a new recipe for a change.

It wasn't long before Karl burst through the doors, his prized hammer resting on his shoulders and a cigar between his teeth and in his other hand was a satchel that was holding something it wasn't designed to carry. The grin he wore grew when his eyes landed on her and Miranda sighed inaudibly behind her mask.

“Well,” he purred, sitting on the bench he normally claimed and set his hammer down next to it, “If it isn't the woman of the hour! How kind of you to meet with me today.”

Miranda didn't care too much for his charming tone—his charisma was impressive but Miranda had never been a true fan of it, and Alcina outright hated him forcing Miranda to often play the role of a mediator every time there was a faction meeting which almost always ended in chaos and bloodshed. Thankfully it was only once or twice out of the month unless it was an emergency.

“Your message said that you have something of importance to show me, Lord Heisenberg, get on with it.”

“Oh, someone's testy today,” he mumbled under his breath but just loud enough for her to catch his words and Miranda's jaw clenched, “As requested, one head of a troublesome villager only searching for his beloved little girl. Maybe do your job and tell that supersized bitch to keep her brats on a leash next time.”

The satchel landed on the floor at Miranda's feet. Miranda's eyes narrowed in his direction, barely glancing at the satchel that narrowly missed touching her, and Karl felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise alarmingly fast, “Do not forget your place here, Heisenberg.”

Karl snarled but he quickly conceded—he's proved himself to be the biggest Alpha in the region time and time again but he wasn't stupid enough to think that he could challenge Miranda evenly. Miranda relented, accepting his surrender but she didn't buy it, she never did.

“All I'm sayin' is that we don't hunt in the village for this very reason—”

“I understand that, Heisenberg. And it's been taken care of. Lady Dimitrescu will see that it never happens again.”

Karl grumbled but thankfully he didn't push, this time, “There's something else too that I think you should know. There's a stranger in the village, probably owns that cute little camp my lycans tore apart a few miles outside of town.”

That caught Miranda's interest though she did not let it show—it wouldn't do to have a man like Karl have even the slightest bit of leverage over her. He was still too useful for her to kill.

“A stranger?”

“Yeah,” he smirked, relighting his cigar and taking a long pull, “Tall, real tall and quite a looker too...I'm here to officially claim her. If she's as tough as she looks, I'll—”

Miranda's wings fluttered when those words left his hairy lips, he didn't have to go into detail for her to know who he was talking about and Miranda felt the edges of her claws trying to grow beneath the veil of her dark wings.

“No.”

“No!?” he sat up quickly, setting both of his feet down on the ground, “What do you mean no?! Aren't those your laws for fresh meat?!”

“Yes, and that woman is off limits. Defy my word, it will not end well for you. If that is all Lord Heisenberg, I will see you this Friday at the faction meeting.”

“You gave her to that zombie in the castle didn't you!” he called after her when Miranda transformed into a flock of birds and left through the rafters.

Karl pulled his hammer to him as he jumped to his feet and he destroyed the bench he was previously sitting on but Miranda was already gone by the time the splinters where she had once stood, “I never get anything nice around here! Always scraps this and scraps that ever since that bitch took over!” he turned and threw his hammer, nearly slicing a pillar in half and he was half transformed before he caught himself.

Karl dusted himself off with one hand while the other brought another cigar from an inside pocket of his oil stained coat and picked up his hammer on the way out of the ceremony room, his temper simmering down. He took one last look at the damage he caused, and smirked.

“Have fun cleaning this up, mother. ” He didn't care what she said, the woman in the village he saw this morning was his game.

#resident evil 8 #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #assassins creed odyssey #the old guard #resident evil village #lady demitrescu #dimitrescu family #reader is a spartan

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lost-in-the-80s · 4 years

Text

Fake Date

Pairing: Dave Mustaine x fem!reader

Words: 1,965k

Summary: You and Dave have been friends with benefits since forever, but to help Junior out, you guys agree on pretending to be a couple, going on a double date with him. (smut)

A/N: I’m not sure if this is good or not because it has been in my drafts for a while, but anyway, I hope you guys like it :)

Warnings: Mature content (f i n g e r s)

“You want us to do what!?” Y/N asked, her eyes widened while Dave choked on his beer beside her.

“Just for one night, it will be just one hour, two in max.” Junior tried to defend his plan.

“No way!” Dave managed to say, still trying to calm down.

“I swear it’s the only time you’ll have to do it!”

“Why do you want us to do it so bad?” She asked, getting up and walking towards the ginger’s kitchen to get something to eat.

“Ah, you don’t understand.” Junior sighed.

“Then explain,” Dave instructed.

“Every time Julie comes around Y/N’s here, she confronted me about it and I told her she had nothing to worry about, but she wouldn’t listen to me, so I told her that she shouldn’t be worried because the two of you were dating.” He gesticulated with his hands, trying to make them understand his point.

“You said what?” Both of them said at the same time.

“Then she got all excited about it and said that we should go on a double date, and I tried, I swear that I tried to make her change her mind, but she fucking wants to do it.” He sighed, looking at the ground.

“If we do this, you’re gonna owe us big time!” Dave said, pointing his finger at the blonde.

“Exactly,” Y/N shouted from the kitchen.

“Come on, it’s not as if you guys had never kissed each other.”

It was true, and to be honest, the two of them had done many more things than just kissing. Y/N and Dave knew each other way before Megadeth, they met in 1980, and even though they were just friends, in the beginning, the sexual tension between them had always been out of the roof, so it didn’t take them too long to engage in a “friends with benefits” kind of relationship.

And even though both of them hated to admit, what they felt for each other stopped being just attraction a long time ago. Now they’d sleep together after sex, cuddling against each other and talking sweet nothings while doing it. Sometimes, they’d be doing something random, like talking, and then would start kissing, even in front of others. When one was sick, the other moved mountains to help, and they had even got into fights with strangers for each other, but the two of them were too proud to ever say anything about it.

And as Dave liked to think: “You don’t have a problem if you pretend it doesn’t exist.”

That was his excuse when Junior talked to him about Y/N a few weeks before the date. He thought the metaphor wasn’t the best, but he understood his friend, Dave always hated complicated things, mainly because he knew he was complicated himself, and he feared that if they spoke up about it, it would become complicated and it wouldn’t work out anymore.

And so here they were, Junior and Julie sat on a bench in front of Dave in a restaurant, all of them waiting for Y/N, who, as per usual, was late. The ginger played anxiously with the ring in his finger while he silently thought about how weird it would be for them to pretend that they were a normal couple.

Wait, a normal couple? His conscience teased him.

We are a couple…. I think? I mean, we hadn't seen anyone else for almost a year now… He tried to defend himself.

Then why are you so fucking worried? His mind fought back, but he had no time to reply because the center of his thoughts entered the place.

She was wearing a leather skirt and a white button-up shirt, with lots of opened buttons, revealing a lot of her skin and making it obvious that she wasn’t wearing any bra. She walked elegantly on her high heels until she reached the table, a warm smile on her lips.

Fuck, it’s almost as if she's teasing me. Dave thought to himself as he got up, adjusting his jeans to try to make his now-forming bulge less visible.

“Hey, baby.” She leaned in, giving his lips a quick kiss before she turned towards the other couple. “Hey guys, how are you?”

“Hey, Y/N! We’re good.” Junior answered, giving her a quick side hug before moving out of the way so that Julie and Y/N could hug.

“I loved your necklace.” Julie complimented, smiling before they all sat down, Y/N sitting next to Dave.

“Ah, thank you! It’s my favorite one. Dave gave me some years ago” She smiled, touching the golden accessory that she never took off.

“I’m sorry for dragging you guys here with us. It’s just that, we saw each other just twice?” Anne looked at Y/N, who only nodded in response. “And I really wanted to get to know you better.”

“Oh, it’s fine! Dave and I were actually thinking about going out tonight anyway.” She touched his thigh, asking for support on her story.

“Yeah, we try to always go out on Fridays.”

“That’s a nice tradition! For how long have you guys been together?”

Dave cleared his throat before answering. “Little more than a year. We were just friends before.”

“Aw, so it started with a friendship? That’s so sweet!”

A waiter showed up, asking what they wanted to eat.

“I’ll have spaghetti,” Junior said, handing his menu to the man in front of him.

“And for the lady?” The man asked, looking at her.

“I’ll have this chicken salad, please.”

The man nodded, turning towards the other two.

“Steak and fries,” Dave looked towards Y/N. “for you too right?”

She nodded.

“Two steaks with fries then.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Yes, bring us two cokes, please.” She handed him their menu before resting her back on the bench, feeling Dave’s fingers slightly playing with her shoulder as his arm rested on the back of the bench.

They knew each other well enough to ask for each other, in fact, they had the same tastes and thoughts on basically everything, and this similarity was the main reason for their feelings towards each other.

“And who spoke up first?” Julie asked.

“It was me,” Dave answered, making a small pause to find a story to fill in.

“We went to a party, got drunk and ended up spilling our guts.” She finished for him.

Pretty believable, coming from the two of us. He thought.

Soon the food arrived and they all started eating, talking about Megadeth and how excited they were to go on a second tour together, but as soon as the food was over, Y/N felt Dave’s hand resting on her thigh. It stayed there for a good while and she was almost sure that he had done it on reflex, but then his hand started to travel upwards, making her give him a glare, to which he just smirked.

Dave’s hands wandered underneath her skirt, finding her panties very easily. He ran his calloused fingertips against its fabric, seeing how a mix of despair and lust filled her eyes.

“And how did you two met?” Y/N asked, hoping that they would spend time enough talking, knowing that she would be too distracted to talk back for a while.

“Oh yeah, I was at this record shop…”

She kept on talking, but Y/N stopped listening to anything as soon as Dave slid her panties to the side and started running his finger up and down in between her folds, feeling how it soon started to get wet.

She sighed slowly, but upended her legs further, giving him better access.

“You know those things you put money inside? Damn, I forgot the name.” Julie asked, rubbing her forehead to try to remember.

“Cash register?” Y/N managed to say before one of Dave’s fingers entered her core, going slowly in and out of her, making her bite her bottom lip.

“Yes! Cash register!” Julie giggled, keeping on telling her story. “I couldn’t open it, and then David came and helped me, we started talking, and look at us now.” She smiled, looking tenderly to the blonde beside her.

“That’s a very good story,” Y/N answered quickly, one of her hands gripping on the table as it got difficult for her to talk normally.

“You know, Julie, Y/N used to work at a record shop too! Why don’t you tell Julie some stories?” Dave asked, his smirk growing as he inserted another finger inside of her, making her close her eyes tightly while her mouth opened slightly.

“Really?” Julie asked, looking really interested.

“Ye-Yeah! For an… for a year or so.”

As soon as she started talking, Dave curled his fingers inside of her, causing her a lot of concentration to finish her quote.

“Which record shop?”

Dave found her sweet spot, hitting it with his finger a few times, making her legs close tightly on reflex.

“Hm… which one?” She grabbed his free hand on top of the table, gripping tight at it.

“Yeah.”

“The na-… one with… I- I don’t remember the name.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Julie said before taking a sip of her water.

Dave hit her g-spot a few more times, making her close her eyes as she felt her walls clenching for the orgasm that was about to hit her, but he removed his finger before she could reach her climax, making her give him a mortal glare.

“Wow, it’s getting late!” Julie said, looking at the watch. “I should go, I have to work tomorrow.” She smiled.

“Yeah, let’s go. I’ll drive you home.” Junior smiled, getting up.

“What do you think, love? Let’s go too?” Dave asked.

“Yeah, sure!”

All of them got up going towards the cashier to pay, and when the others weren’t looking anymore, Dave sucked his fingers clean before turning towards Y/N and whispering in her ear. “God, I love dessert.”

She smirked, before looking down and realizing that he had a very noticeable bone inside his pants, and so she realized that he wouldn’t leave her hanging after all.

Exiting the place, Junior turned towards Dave. “Will you come with us, or….”

“I’ll spend the night at Y/N’s, don’t worry.”

They all said their goodbyes and Junior opened the passenger door for Julie, closing it when she entered the car before walking back to his friends. “I know exactly what you were doing.”

Y/N shrugged before Dave got a cigarette from his jacket's pocket while saying: “I couldn’t help it. Sorry mate!”

Junior rolled his eyes, but went back to his car, turning on the engine and leaving the parking lot.

“That was not nice of you.” She turned towards him, taking the cigarette from his lips and bringing it to hers.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause, it was damn nice to me.” He smirked, both hands circling her waist to bring her closer to him.

She put the cigarette in between her fingers, blowing out some smoke on his face, seeing the lust that sparkled in his eyes.

Leaning in, she whispered in his ear: “You won’t find it so nice when you’re the one being teased.”

Her words making a shiver ran down his spine. “Are you going to tease me?” He asked near her ear.

“Oh, I will…” Her voice an octave lower, soft like velvet. “But you won’t know when, or where, you’ll just realize it when it’s already done.”

He smirked, taking the cigarette from her hand and taking a long drag of it, he looked up, blowing the smoke away before leaning in and kissing her. Her hands finding the back of his neck while their tongues started a battle against each other.

“How about we finish this in my place?” She asked when they pulled apart, taking the cigarette to her lips again.

“Sounds like a plan.” He smirked.

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car @slashscowboyboots @ginny-rose-sixx @bigdaddylars @dynamitebabe @tuffduff @mitchgrassified @gamsbeans @i-wont-be-caged

Add yourself to my tag list :)

Thanks for reading <3

#harley writes #dave mustaine #dave mustaine fanfic #dave mustaine smut #dave mustaine imagine #dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine fic #megadeth #megadeth fanfic #megadeth imagine #metallica #metallica fanfic #metallica imagine #megadeth smut #metallica smut #thrash metal

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impalas-r-important · 3 years

Text

Branch Out - Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N left everything she's ever known, and Dean just wants to be left alone. With both of them trying to heal from heartache, they might just end up finding what they need in the last place they'd ever look.

Word count: 6219

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventually, maybe?)

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter, but if you think i should add one, feel free to let me know!

A/N: I started this series a long time ago and just barely had the motivation to start it up again. I really love this series, and have been enjoying writing it. Let me know if you want a tag!

My Masterlist

Branch Out Masterlist

Thank heavens for GPS, there’s no way you would have found this place without step-by-step directions. A narrow gravel driveway branched off from the worn mountain road and wound to a homely cabin. You stepped out of your old pickup truck and pulled out the key the realtor had given to you. Buying a house sight unseen wasn’t the smartest idea and you second guessed your impulse decision as you took in the dense woods that were so foreign to you. The seasoned wooden boards of the porch creaked under your feet while you made your way to the door and let yourself into your new home. Dust rested gently on every ledge and the frigid January air was lined with a twinge of must from sitting unoccupied for so long, but something felt so promising about the sturdy structure.

A modest kitchen and living room made up most of the house with a bedroom and bathroom on either side of a small hallway. A small, metal woodburning fireplace sat just next to the backdoor and you had a feeling you would end up putting that to good use if you ever figured out how to use it.

Your hand was subconsciously touching the bruise that was prominent on your forearm and when you realized, you pulled your sleeve down to cover it. The decision to leave your family and friends behind was a heart-wrenching one, but you knew you had to make a change if you wanted to heal completely. You needed to do something for yourself, and you wanted a fresh start. A small cabin in the freezing cold woods of Idaho was about as far from what you knew to be normal as you could have gotten, but a seed of hope was planted firmly in your chest.

When a job posting for the assistant city accountant had fallen in your lap a few weeks back, you applied without thinking twice. A few online interviews later, you had secured the job and things fell into place effortlessly, as if some external force was paving your path to this small town. You bought this quaint home with the help of a local realtor, packed your things, and left the only home you had ever known in Arizona, despite the protests of your family. Not knowing what your future held was scary, but something about this place felt right from the moment you pulled in.

You had brought only what you needed to in hopes of making a quick escape, meaning you had only a mattress, some clothes and a few personal belongings. After working for a few years, you had a built up a good savings account and figured it would be easier to buy furniture once you got here instead of trying to move big pieces by yourself. It didn’t take long to move your things inside, and you felt grateful that you called ahead to have the power and water turned on so you could shower once you had unpacked what you needed for your first day on the job tomorrow. Anxiety sat like a rock in your stomach, so you skipped dinner and went straight to bed, burying yourself under a mountain of blankets to shield you from the winter chill that had settled in your bones.

Your nerves woke you up well before your alarm went off, so you dragged your feet across the frozen floor and pulled your clothes on quickly before digging through your boxes for some granola bars for breakfast. You leaned against the kitchen counter and began to make a list of things you would need to buy since you were essentially starting from scratch. Double checking the email that you had received with instructions for your first day, you took a deep breath and headed out.

City hall was a historic, two-story red brick building that was shared with the fire department. It looked like something out of a storybook, but then again, this whole town did. You pushed the door open and looked around at the empty lobby, checking your watch to make sure you weren’t crazy early. Rustic chairs lined the walls by the door, and a few empty desks were placed behind the tall front counter.

“Hello?” You asked, turning your head left and right to look for any signs of life.

“Oh!” A muffled voice responded, and distant footsteps quickly scuttled your way from the back room. “You’re here!” A pretty, dark haired girl gave a few excited claps as she made her way to you. “You must be Y/N. I’m Sarah. Sarah Blake.” She eagerly pulled you into a hug which caught you by surprise and she chuckled a bit to herself before taking a step back. “Sorry, my boyfriend says that my enthusiasm scares new people away. I’ve just been so excited since I heard they hired you. I’ve been praying for someone my age to come work around here for a long time.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re the first person I’ve met in town so it’s nice to see a friendly face.” Her warm welcome calmed some of your nerves.

“That’s right, you just moved in yesterday, huh?” You tiled your head in question, wondering how she knew that. “It’s a really small town, everyone knows everything, especially when it comes to new people. You’ve been the talk of the town the past little bit.” She shrugged. “Well, I’m the marketing/PR girl here, and we all just kind of pitch in with working the front desk. Come on back, let me give you the grand tour.”

Sarah led you around the corner and stopped at the first office on your left. “This is Ellen Singer’s office. You’ll be working under her, she’s the lead accountant.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Hmm, she should be here by now. I bet her car is giving her trouble.”

A friendly voice called out to Sarah from down the hall and she motioned for you to follow her as she stepped just inside the end office which was significantly bigger than the rest.

“Y/N, this is Garth Fitzgerald, he’s the mayor. Garth, this is Y/N.” Sarah introduced you and he stood to shake your hand.

“It’s great to meet you, Mayor Fitzgerald.”

“Please, call me Garth.” You smiled and nodded. “We’ve been excited about you around here. I think you’ll make a great addition to our community.” His phone ringing broke the conversation. “Excuse me, ladies. Oh, and welcome to Wallace, Y/N!”

“Next up is Arthur Ketch, he’s the city planner. Sometimes he can be a little abrupt, but deep down he’s a big softie. Don’t let him scare you.”

He was on the phone, so he simply waved to you two as you passed. Sarah’s attention was drawn back down the hall when two police officers walked in. “Jody, Donna!” She hollered to them.

“Heya, kiddo! Who you got with you?” The blonde officer sent a warm smile your way.

“You must be Y/N!” The other responded.

“Oh, that’s right! I heard you were coming to town. I’m Donna and this is Sheriff Jody Mills. It’s so great to meet you.” She pulled you in for your second hug of the day.

“Everyone here is seriously so nice. I don’t know why I didn’t move here years ago!” You joked.

“Well listen, if you need anything, you can always come to me, okay?” Jody put her hand on your shoulder. “We’re all so excited to have a new face around.”

“Thank you. You’re all making this transition so much easier than I thought it would be.”

Sarah waved to the officers as they left and pulled gently on your arm. “Come on, let’s chat while we wait for Ellen.” She took a seat at one of the desks in the front and you sat across from her.

“Thanks for showing me around, it’s nice to know that I have a friend at work already.” Sarah’s eyes lit up when you called her your friend.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been dying for you to get here. I knew we’d get along.” She folded her arms and sat back in her chair proudly. “So, where did you move from?”

“Phoenix, Arizona.”

“And you moved to Idaho in the middle of January? Are you crazy? I would give anything to go lay out in the sun for an afternoon.”

“Yeah, I might be!” You laughed. “I guess I just needed a change, you know? It was just time to move onto the next chapter of my life.”

“I get that. I grew up here and couldn’t wait to leave for college, but as soon as I was gone, I missed this place.”

“I can see what you’re talking about. It has a good feeling to it here.”

“So, now to the juicy stuff.” Sarah leaned forward. “Are you dating anyone? Because there’s a whole pool of eligible bachelors I could set you up with here.”

“No, actually I just got out of something kind of messy, so I don’t think I’m really looking for anything at the moment.”

A sympathetic look was sent you way. “I’m sorry to hear that. But if you ever feel ready, you let me know, okay?”

“You will be the first. What about you? I heard you mention you have a boyfriend. Tell me all about him.”

A smile spread across Sarah’s face and she pulled out her phone to show you a picture. “This is Sam, we’ve been together since high school.”

She handed you her phone and you looked at the tall, handsome guy whose arms were wrapped around her. “He’s cute, nice work!” She beamed as you handed her phone back. The expression on her face was clearly one of adoration as she looked at the picture.

“We actually broke up before we went to college. He went to Stanford and I went to the University of Oregon and we figured it would be easier to break it off on good terms rather than fade away in a long-distance relationship. That lasted about two weeks and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Do you think you’ll marry him? You guys are so stinking cute together.” You weren’t sure if you had ever seen a better fitting couple.

“I overheard Sam talking to his older brother about buying a ring. I don’t think he knew that I was just in the other room, but I’ll let him try to surprise me.” Sarah giggled. Your conversation was interrupted by someone walking in the back door.

“Hey, Ellen.” Sarah greeted. “Your reinforcement has arrived.”

Ellen looked at you with relief in her eyes. “Oh, honey, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. Come on back here and we’ll get started.”

“Have fun!” Sarah left you to meet your new boss as she went up to help someone at the front desk.

“Y/N, you’ll have to forgive me for being so late. My stupid car has been giving me hell the past few weeks. You’d think with my husband owning the only mechanic’s shop in town, I’d have a reliable vehicle, but here we are.”

“No worries. It gave me a chance to meet some people around the building. I’m excited to get started though.” You sat in the chair across from her desk and she plopped down with a sigh as well.

“I’ve been begging Garth for two years for some help, so you are a light at the end of my tunnel. I’m hoping to retire in a few years and hand you the reigns, so let’s get to it, shall we?”

The next few hours were spent introducing you to all of the systems and procedures. After receiving a call from her daughter, Ellen decided to call it a day just after three in the afternoon and the two of you agreed to hit it hard tomorrow. You gathered your things and returned to the front area where Sarah was scrolling through her phone. She looked up when you entered the room.

“Hey! How are things going?”

“Ellen has to take off, so we’re going to call it a day and just work a little longer tomorrow.” You sat at the desk adjoining Sarah’s and set your things down.

“Take any desk. It’s just you and me out here. Charlie is the county IT girl and works out here sometimes, but she hops from building to building.”

“Well, I suppose this one is as good as any.” You unpacked a picture frame and a few supplies at the desk across from Sarah’s. “Hey, are there any places to buy furniture around here? I only moved with the bare essentials so I’m in desperate need of a few things.”

“So, what you’re saying is you need to go on a shopping spree? I’m in! I’ll drive.” Sarah grabbed her purse and coat and led you out the door.

She took you on a short tour of the staples around town before arriving at the only big box store nearby. You browsed up and down the aisles, pulling all the necessities off the shelf and tossing them in the cart. You’d have to order some of the bigger furniture pieces online since it was a small place, and they didn’t have anything like here.

Sarah had a basket and was creating a good-sized stockpile of her own. “Sam has been trying to put me on a budget for a while now, so I’ll have to hide this stuff before he sees.” A guilty smile pulled on the corners of her mouth.

“Just tell him you were shopping with an accountant and I approved all your purchases.”

“Hah! We’re going to be good friends.” She picked up a candle, smelled it, and placed it in her basket.

“Where does Sam work?” You asked as you looked through the bathroom towels.

“He’s the lawyer for Winchester Lumber, the sawmill in town. A lot of people work there actually, it’s kind of the main business that brings people in. Sam’s great grandpa started it and it’s stayed in the family. Sam’s older brother, Dean, runs the place right now, but I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to hand the throne over to their Dad when he gets back. He got cancer a few years ago and they moved to Kansas to be closer to medical treatment.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. How is he doing?”

“He’s doing really well, actually. He’s in remission and they’re hoping to move back soon.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent checking things off of your to-do list and grabbing dinner with Sarah. She dropped you off back at your truck and you thanked her for showing you around before you went your separate ways.

Back at home, it took you a few trips to unload your haul, but you were just happy to have a few more things to fill your empty home. Your first day had gone better than you could have imagined, and you were filled with confidence in your decision to uproot your life.

Sarah opened her front door and did her best to sneak her shopping bags past Sam and Dean who were sitting in the living room, sharing a pizza and some beers. She successfully stowed her treasures away in the hall closet and joined the boys.

“Hey hon!” She placed a kiss on Sam’s forehead before grabbing a slice of pizza and plopping down on the couch next to him.

“You’re in a good mood.” Sam noticed his girlfriend’s chipper energy.

“I made a new friend today.” She took a big bite and gave a smile.

“Don’t you already know everyone in town?” Dean’s voice sounded as pessimistic as usual.

“No, actually. There’s a new accountant at city hall, Y/N. She just moved in yesterday.”

“That’s great! You’ll have to invite her over sometime.” Sam placed his hand lovingly on Sarah’s knee. “Where’s she living?”

“She bought a cabin up in the mountains sight unseen, so we went shopping for some essentials. I think she might be kind of close to you, Dean.”

Dean frowned, trying to think of which cabin the new girl would have bought. He moved up there to be alone, so the thought of a neighbor was disheartening. “You mean that old shack just off of Placer Creek Road?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the one.”

“She’s got a lot of repair work to do on that place.” Dean shook his head, glad that it wasn’t him that put any kind of investment into what he was sure was a money pit.

You awoke early the next morning to find that it had snowed overnight. Growing up in Arizona, you had never really experienced snow like this before. Every breath you took felt like your lungs were filling with ice and you couldn’t help but cough, willing the warm weather to find you soon. Winter was one thing you didn’t think about when moving to a mountain town, so you wanted to give yourself plenty of time for the commute. After packing a few things for lunch, you stepped outside to find your truck buried in a mountain of frozen powder.

“Ugh!” You groaned and threw your head back, looking around for a stick to help you dig out your vehicle. You made a mental note to buy a scraper after work. Ten minutes and one soaked pair of shoes later, you had finally freed your car. You twisted the key, forcing the engine to sluggishly turned over, then blasted the heat on high while you ran inside to change into dry shoes and socks before taking off down the road.

The feeling of your back wheels slipping around on the frozen dirt road was so foreign to you, and you weren’t a fan. About two miles away from the main road, your engine began to sputter as it struggled to trudge ahead through the wet snow.

“Please don’t do this to me…” You steered towards the side of the road as much as you could while the truck wound down to a full stop. An annoyed sigh escaped from your lips. “Great.” You turned the car off and then back on, willing it to start up again, but the clicks of defeat that sounded from under the hood dashed your hopes.

You hadn’t had the time to buy a heavy winter coat yet, so you zipped up the light jacket that you had on and began walking. You didn’t want to make a bad impression on your second day of work by calling in sick, so you picked up your head and kept going. One of the points of starting your new journey was to be more self-reliant, and this definitely fell under that category. Ten minutes had passed, and your toes were so cold that you were sure they would snap off and rattle around in your shoes at any point now. The sound of an engine coming down the hill made you look over your shoulder to see a snowmobile barreling around the corner and straight towards you. You quickly side-stepped out of the way, but not enough to avoid the kickback of snow that was thrown into your face as the machine drove past.

“Seriously?!” You yelled as you shook the snow from your clothes. The snowmobile stopped and slowly backed up to meet you.

“What are you doing up here?” The man abruptly asked as he pulled off his helmet. If you weren’t so annoyed and cold, you might have thought he was attractive.

“Being buried alive by some maniac speeding down the mountain.” You retorted and brushed the snow from your hair with your fingers.

“I’m going to assume that’s your truck back there?”

“Lucky guess.” The wind-chill blew through your jacket and you crossed your arms. “I don’t think it likes the cold, and I don’t exactly blame it.”

His eyes assessed you. “Crappy shoes, thin jacket, and no gloves. I’m going to assume that makes you the clueless new girl.”

“What an ass...” You thought to yourself.

“I guess it does, Kowalski.”

“Kowalski? Really?”

You were surprised he got your reference to Clint Eastwood’s infamously crotchety main character.

“If you’ll excuse me, I gotta get to work.” You didn’t find much point in continuing on this conversation with such a smug jerk, so you continued on your path down the road and heard the snowmobile make a sharp u turn to climb back up the trail.

Ten more minutes later, you could see the main road just ahead of you had been plowed, and you were thankful that you wouldn’t have to be hiking through any more ankle-deep build-up. You could hear a vehicle slowly coming up behind you and you made sure to move as far over as you could to avoid being blasted with snow again. The truck slowed to a stop next to you and you looked over to see the same man from earlier rolling the passenger side window down.

“Get in, I’ll give you a ride.” His voice still sported an undertone of condescension and he rolled his eyes when a doubtful frown from you was sent towards him. “Just get in.”

Hundreds of episodes of Dateline should have taught you to not get in a car with some stranger, but you figured that even if he didn’t murder you, you’d end up dying of frostbite and decided to you’d rather die inside a warm truck. You opened the door and took off your damp jacket before getting inside.

The man’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel tight. You placed your hand by the heater on the dashboard in hopes of defrosting your fingers enough to feel them again.

“You shouldn’t drive a pickup in the winter.” His gaze stayed firmly glued on the road ahead.

“Uhm…” You dramatically looked around, “aren’t we in a pickup right now?”

“Yeah, a pickup with chains on the tires and a weighed down bed.”

“Well, I’m still pretty new at this whole snow thing…”

The man glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “I couldn’t tell. You’re Y/N, aren’t you?”

“Should I be concerned that you know my name?” You raised an eyebrow.

“No, no,” he must have realized how creepy that came off, “I know Sarah. She’s dating my younger brother and she was telling us about you last night.”

“Oh, it all makes sense now. You’re the grumpy older brother. Dean, right?”

Another eyeroll made an appearance, but you could tell he wasn’t going to make any further comments.

“Well, I appreciate the ride. I’m sorry if I screwed up your morning routine.”

“It’s no big deal.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that Dean wasn’t a man of many words, and you were okay with that. You weren’t really one for small talk either. Dean’s eyes moved to your arm that was extended towards the vent blowing heat.

“That’s a gnarly bruise. How’d you manage that?”

You pulled your arm back quickly, hoping that your sudden move didn’t come across as suspicious. “Oh, you know, just being a clutz. They never tell you that moving by yourself is a dangerous game.” You chuckled casually while watching his eyebrows knit together ever so slightly as he glanced at the bruise one more time. No further remarks were made so you assumed he bought your story.

Dean pulled up in front of City Hall and stopped as close to the door as he could get. Before you could reach for the door handle, Dean instructed, “give me your keys.”

“What?” Your face twisted in confusion.

Yet another fed-up sigh escaped from his chest. “Bobby Singer down at the auto shop owes me a favor. I’ll get him to tow your truck down and take a look at it.”

“Oh.” you weren’t expecting such a generous gesture from such a grumpy guy. “I don’t want to put you out any more than I already have.”

“Hand it over.” The tone in his voice remained gruff, but the bluntness was slightly faded at this point. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your key ring, sliding the truck key off and placing it into Dean’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dean’s eyes avoided yours and you took the hint that it was time to leave.

The wind blew flurries in the air, forcing you to quickly sprint to the door, meaning that you missed Dean watching you with curiosity. Sarah, who was observing from the front desk, didn’t miss his wondering stare. He quickly averted his eyes when he saw her spying and peeled away.

“Kowalski.” He muttered to himself with a half-entertained chuckle once he was a few blocks away. Dean would have never admitted it, but he quite enjoyed the witty nickname.

Sarah couldn’t stop the mischievous smirk that crept up on her face and leaned on the counter to greet you the second you stepped through the door.

“You look like you’ve had quite the morning.” She greeted.

“Yeah, something like that.” You hung your jacket up on the coat rack in the corner to dry and stomped the packed snow from the tread of your shoes.

“Am I going blind or did Dean Winchester give you a ride to work?” She quickly cornered you.

“Yeah. My truck broke down and then he tried to bury me in snow, so he gave me a ride.” Goosebumps covered your arms as you made your way to your desk. You had never been more grateful for heat.

Sarah crossed her arms and sat on your desk as you took your seat. “You know, people call him the Grinch because he moved way up the mountain to be all broody and alone.”

“I can’t say I don’t understand it. It’s kinda fitting.” You logged into your computer, but Sarah continued to press for details.

“Well did he say anything on the ride over or did he just glare at the road?”

“A little bit of both I guess. He told me I shouldn’t be driving a truck in the winter, but that’s about it.”

Ellen arrived and cut the chatter short. “Hey girls. You ready to get started, Y/N?”

“You bet.” You stood from your desk, but not before Sarah pointed an accusing finger at you.

“This conversation is not over!” She warned.

After lunch, Ellen had given you some expense reports to review and organize. It was tedious, but you didn’t mind the slow afternoon after a crazy morning. Sarah was helping you to punch holes in the stacks of papers and organize them into departments while the two of you chatted away. The snow had kept most people inside, so it was a slow day at the front desk. Just before it was time to call it a day, the bell of the front door dinged, and Sarah walked over to see who it was.

“Hey, Dean. You going over to Benny’s tonight?” She greeted.

“Not sure yet.”

Dean’s hands were shoved into his front pockets as he stared Sarah down, not wanting to give her any more room to speculate as to why he was here.

“Hi.” You smiled softly, trying your hardest ignore Sarah’s curious stare as you joined in the conversation.

He pulled a key from his pocket and set it down on the counter. “She’s all fixed up. Battery terminals were corroded so I cleaned them up a bit, but you’re going to need a new battery soon. That one doesn’t have much juice left in it.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that you worked at the auto shop.” You remembered Sarah saying something about Dean working at the sawmill.

“No, I used to. But I figured it would be an easy fix, so I took a look myself. I stuck some old grates in the bed for some weight. Take it into Bobby’s tomorrow after work and he’ll take care of the rest. He knows you’re coming.”

“Wow, I really owe you one. Thank you.” You slid the key from off the counter and fiddled with the metal ring.

“Don’t read into it.” Dean tapped his fist on the counter twice before swiftly leaving.

Sarah was biting her lip, and you slowly turned your head towards her. “Spit it out.” You gave permission for her onslaught of questions.

“You didn’t tell me he was going to fix your car for you!”

“He said he would have Bobby tow it back to the shop and take a look at it. I didn’t know he was going to fix it himself.”

“I’ve known Dean for a long time, he’s pretty much my older brother at this point, so I can see past all the grumpiness. He’s a really good guy, he’s just been dealt a hard hand the past few years that made him swear off people.”

That was a feeling you could easily relate to. “He really went out of his way to bail me out today, so he can’t be all that bad.”

“He’s all bark and no bite. Granted, it’s a big bark.” Sarah checked her watch. “Closing time! Hey, would you want to come back to my place after we clock out? Sam’s playing poker at a buddy’s house tonight so I figured maybe we could grab some take out and find some furniture for you online?”

“Yeah, that’d be great actually! It definitely beats the PB and J I would be making otherwise.”

After work, you ran home to change and Sarah stopped for some Chinese food, then the two of you met at her apartment.

Some crappy TV movie played in the background while mostly empty take-out containers littered the kitchen counter. You were sitting on the floor with your laptop on the coffee table, browsing through loveseats while Sarah lay on the couch behind you giving her input.

The door gently swung open and the man you assumed to be Sam walked through. Sarah stood up and stretched before giving her boyfriend a hug.

“How was the poker game?”

Sam tossed his keys on the counter and pulled off his jacket. “About the same as always. Benny won most of the games, Cas still has no clue what he’s doing, and I lost a little too much pride.”

“You’ll get them one of these days. Come on,” she tugged on his shirt sleeve, “I want you to meet Y/N.”

You stood when Sam and Sarah walked into the room. “Y/N, this is Sam.”

“Ah, the infamous Y/N, I’ve heard lots about you the past day or so. It’s nice to put a face with the name.” He shook your hand. “How are you settling in?”

“Honestly, the move has been a lot easier than I thought it would be. Everyone here has been super welcoming and helpful.”

“Including Dean.” Sarah gave a knowing look to her boyfriend, who was clearly confused.

“My brother, Dean?”

“The one and only. He gave Y/N a ride to work and fixed her truck up for her.”

Sam’s face read skeptical. “My brother, Dean?” He repeated.

“I found myself knee deep in snow and car problems this morning. I’m sure he helped me out of pity more than anything.” You tried to explain, not wanting to make a big deal of the situation.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Wow. I guess that’s why he was late to work today. Well, I hope he didn’t scare you off too much.”

You shook your head with a smile. “Not at all, he really helped me out. But I have to admit, I feel bad. He would barely acknowledge my thank yous. I don’t want to come across as ungrateful.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he heard you loud and clear, he’s just hasn’t been properly socialized yet.”

Sam finished off the rest of the Chinese and got to know you a little better while Sarah sat next to you on the floor, scrolling through furniture.

“Where’d you go to school, Y/N?” Sam stacked the empty red food containers together and set them aside as he pulled his feet up on the couch.

“University of Arizona. I didn’t originally plan on staying so close to home, but a full ride soccer scholarship is hard to turn down.”

“No way! That’s awesome.” Sam’s face lit up with an idea. “Oh! Every summer we do this obstacle course race thing here in town as part of the summer festival. Maybe you can be on our team this year?”

“That sounds super fun! Count me in.”

“Yes!”’ Sam made a fist in the air. “We’ve used to win every year, but we’ve come in second the past three times, so maybe you’ll be our secret weapon.”

Sarah joined the conversation once she’d had her fill of online shopping. “I was thinking, Y/N, I don’t know if you’re much of a baker, but if you wanted to say thank you to Dean, he’s a sucker for a good pie. I know he wouldn’t just brush that off.”

“It’s true. He’s a pie whore.” Sam nodded.

“Sam!” Sarah scolded.

“Noted,” you said through your laughs.

The clock in the corner of your laptop screen caught your eye and you realized how late it was getting. “I should probably start heading home before I hate myself tomorrow at work.”

“At least it’s not supposed to snow tonight.” Sarah teased.

“Wow, it’s going to be like that, huh?! It’s a learning curve, okay?” You stuck your tongue out as you gathered your things.

Sam stopped you after Sarah had said goodbye. “Hey, Y/N, I know Dean doesn’t make the greatest first impression, but do me a favor and don’t write him off just yet. He’s had a rough go the past little while and could always use another friend in his corner.”

“I won’t. I’m sure there’s a great guy buried under all that angst.” You gave a reassuring smile and Sam gave you a hug before you left.

The next day was Friday and between training and helping out with the front desk, the workday flew by. You needed to take your truck in to get the battery switched and Sarah had agreed to give you rides while you were without transportation. After work, you dropped off your truck at Bobby’s, and Sarah took you home. You were glad for a little time to yourself so you could clean up the house before the first delivery of furniture tomorrow morning.

On your lunch break earlier that day, you had gotten all the ingredients to make blueberry pie bars as a thank you for Dean. Time was in short supply, so you hoped these would be a suitable place holder in lieu of a regular pie. You quickly threw them together and loaded up a plate once they were cool enough. Baking had always been a stress reliever for you, and the way it filled your small cabin with warmth and sweet smells felt so cozy and charming.

Dean’s place was only a ten-minute walk from yours, so you bundled up and began your hike. You had finally gotten yourself a suitable coat and boots and couldn’t believe the difference they made as you crunched through the snow that was matted on the gravel road. His cabin was much newer than yours, and considerably nicer. A long staircase on the right side of the house led up to a wide porch. Smoke spilling from the chimney and lights beaming through the windows told you he was probably home, so you knocked on the door.

Clattering of locks being undone broke through the silence a few moments later and an expressionless Dean opened the door.

“Hi,” you began, “I just wanted to say thank you for helping me out so much the other day.” Dean stood silent and stone-faced, so you awkwardly continued. “I, uh, heard you were a big fan of pie, but I didn’t have enough time to make one from scratch, so I hope these will do.” You extended the plate of goodies and he looked at them doubtfully.

“Look,” a gravelly voice ended his vow of silence, “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not looking for any new friends or whatever this is.” He began to shut his door when you interjected.

“Listen, this is nothing more than a simple thank you for bailing me out when I really needed it. I’m not going to force you to eat them, but I’m also not going to take them home with me. Maybe just wait until I’m gone before you throw them away though.” You set the plate on a neatly stacked pile of firewood off to the side of the door. “Don’t read into it.” You echoed his parting words from yesterday and took your leave. A sneaky glance over your shoulder as you walked away revealed that Dean had picked up the plate and was looking at it with a half-impressed nod. You assumed that was as much of a reaction as you’d get from him and marked the trip to be successful.

Chapter 2

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean fic #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn fic #supernatural fanfic series

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michaelarowrites · 3 years

Text

Excerpt from Honor the Words

Akaryu Masaomi is drinking coffee when he feels the kick to his chest.

It knocks the wind out of him, causing him to drop his mug and instinctively crouch down, holding his abdomen as he tries to catch his breath.

“Akaryu-san?” says one very alarmed military analyst. Other onlookers have stopped what they’re doing in order to stare at him in concern, since by all accounts, he had collapsed for no reason. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Masaomi says, already straightening himself and forcing a smile. “I’m just fine. My apologies, I just got dizzy for a second.”

Damn it, Youji! he thinks as loudly as he can.

I’m sorry! comes a thought that isn’t his, loud and clear in his mind. I forgot!

It’s the fifth time this week!

Youji-san, I wish you would be more careful, says a new voice in his mind, familiar but still not his.

I’m sorry, Shi-chan.

Masaomi exits the military kitchen, moving towards the training yard where he knows he’ll find Yamazaki Youji.

Hey, you just left your coffee cup on the ground. A third voice appears in his mind. Go back and clean that up!

Make me, Masaomi fires back, abruptly slamming all thoughts down, doing his best to sever the unwanted connection he now shares with three other people.

The strange telepathic communication that sometimes shares thoughts and feelings between the four is especially frustrating because it’s not like the usual mind-reading Masaomi knows how to handle. From a very young age, he’s known how to compartmentalize his thoughts and keep them controlled, with mental shields and wards to prevent unwanted spies in his mind. Threats of mind-reading and mind-compulsions and otherwise dangerous psychic attacks were not that uncommon in his daily life of political intrigue in the Capital.

But this is different. It’s nothing like the magic he knew how to guard against, and it chafes against him like someone has put a collar around his neck.

That same bond pings again, and he looks to the left where the connection is coming from and sees Shiori sitting in the shade. This is enough to waylay his path, as he detours to talk to her. “Shiori, are you okay?”

“I am fine, Masaomi-san,” she says curtly. She stands up from her seat on the bench, and presses down the folds of her plain kimono. Shiori always did like to dress in traditional clothes, as was common in the Capital and in the main Estates, but once she wore silks and it pains him now to see her so low. She looks at him coolly, as if sensing his thoughts (which, all things considered, she might have) and then says, “You do not need to spare any thoughts toward my well-being.”

“Shiori,” Masaomi winces. “You can’t be like this forever.”

“Like what, Masaomi-san?”

“Mad at me. I’ve apologized, and you’re just being stubborn. I thought we were friends.”

“We were friends, Masaomi-san, and then left me to die,” Shiori says, smiling sweetly. “That sent a very clear message about the boundaries of our friendship.”

“I didn’t think they’d actually kill you,” Masaomi says, but he knows it sounds hollow. “At any rate, this absurd higher ground is ridiculous. You’d have done the same.”

And yet, strangely, I didn’t.

He hears her thought loud and clear, and she looks mortified once she realizes what she’s communicated. “Shiori,” he starts, his voice softer this time.

“Excuse me, Masaomi-san. I have business elsewhere.”

It’s a lie, and their new bond means he knows it’s a lie, but he doesn’t stop her as she walks away.

Masaomi finds Youji in the training yard, talking to the pretty gumiho woman he’s made friends with over the past couple of weeks.

“—stop dodging, how are we supposed to have a proper fake battle if you keep avoiding hits?”

“Sorry, Mi-chan, I guess I’m squeamish about being hit.”

“Uh huh. Oh look, your rich boyfriend is here.” Sakurano Michiru looks over at Masaomi and smiles. “Hello, rich boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Youji says.

“And I’m not that rich anymore, considering the other grand dragons froze my accounts,” Masaomi says.

“So you keep saying, but I’m not sure I believe you,” Michiru says, talking to Youji. “Although, you were making out with Corporal Toma last night. Get any?”

“He left early,” Youji says.

“He always does. I could’ve warned you. That man’s a tease.”

“I didn’t mind. It was an honor to be teased,” Youji says with a grin. Masaomi manages to hide his scowl but the irritation is probably communicated anyway.

Oh, so that’s where you were last night, Masaomi thinks, despite himself.

I was invited for drinks. You could’ve come along.

I wasn’t invited for drinks.

Out of the three of them—no, out of the four of them—Youji is the only one who is settling in nicely with the Magpies. Even Hinami seems irritated at how easily Youji is fitting in with the ranks. Just looking at the two of them, Youji would be the one people might think has been here for years, and Hinami the newcomer.

Then I’ll invite you next time, Youji thinks.

I don’t want to be invited, Masaomi snaps back, still irritated.

“See, and now you two are staring at each other intensely, which is a thing you two do a lot, and is certainly giving the impression to everyone on base that you guys are madly in love with each other,” Michiru says conversationally. Youji looks like he’s going to protest again, but Michiru just says, “I’m going to spare you the lie, which I’m sure will be very believable and convincing, because I have to go. I got a summons.” She waves her wrist, where the gold Cicada indicates a message received. “Be good, boys. Don’t do anything scandalous without me.”

“Lovely woman,” Masaomi says as she leaves, admiring the movement of her hips as she walks away.

“You’re staring.”

“That is the confident walk of a woman who clearly expected me to stare. It would have been impolite not to comply.”

“Uh huh. Well, behave. I like Mi-chan, and she would eat you alive. That was her kick earlier.”

Masaomi rubs his stomach, still convinced he can feel the dull ache. “Duly noted. You said you were going to be more careful in training sessions.”

“I got distracted, sorry,” Youji says. Hinami’s sparring sessions aren’t as intense, and she rarely gets injured. So far, it’s only Youji who keeps sending these inconvenient flares of pain through their unasked-for bond.

“Apologize to Shiori,” Masaomi says coldly. “She’s a court lady, and isn’t used to pain.”

“I did apologize to Shi-chan,” Youji says, his voice mild. “She’s very forgiving.”

Masaomi scowls, since there’s no way Youji doesn’t know what Masaomi and Shiori were talking about five minutes ago. “It’s all a front. Her grudges could freeze mountains.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. He likes harping at Youji, because Youji never seems to mind. But after his conversation with Shiori, he can’t help but be keenly aware that Youji is the only one on this base who doesn’t treat Masaomi like he’s an evil villain. Abruptly, he asks, “Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“For what?” Youji says, perplexed.

“For—you know. Leaving you to die, and what not.” Youji had already been shot by the humans. Masaomi left him thinking he was dead, or near-death.

“I had no expectations that you wouldn’t.”

“Ouch,” Masaomi says, surprised by the genuine hurt he feels at that statement. But then, he’d already betrayed Youji once before, so of course Youji would have expected that he’d do it again. It’s completely absurd that he feels hurt, when clearly Youji was right not to expect better of him.

“That’s not what I meant,” Youji says, frowning quizzically. His thick eyebrows move like silkworms on his face, and it actually makes him look charming.

“No?”

“I meant—I didn’t expect you to stick around. I didn’t expect anyone to stick around. Why would you have? We just met each other. You didn’t owe me anything.”

It’s everything Masaomi has been telling himself these past couple of weeks—I had every right to leave them! I owed them nothing!—but hearing Youji say it like that just sounds bare and false. “Well. It’s unlikely I’ll do it again.”

Masaomi hates how awkward that sounds. Youji just grins at him and says, “So were you worried when I didn’t come back to our room last night?”

“I wasn’t worried,” Masaomi says, bristling. “You’re my jailer, not my roommate.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

The fact that they’re sharing a military bunk is something that still chafes, because Masaomi has never shared living quarters with anyone. Much less a room that’s little better than a closet. But when they’d first arrived on base, Hinami had said, “I don’t trust you not to run away.”

“There’s nothing you could do to stop me,” Masaomi had said. But their bond was brand new at that point, and he didn’t know how to stop himself from automatically thinking, Youji would probably stop me from leaving. That thought had, quite embarrassingly, been transmitted to the other three. Youji had looked flattered, Shiori had looked coolly intrigued, and Hinami had said, “Good, then Yamazaki will room with you and stop you from leaving.”

The fact that Masaomi is sure that Youji could stop him from leaving—or at the very least, would be able to track him down and bring him back, if he did leave—upsets him more than the fact that he now has to share a room. Not that he plans on leaving, (he’s learned from that mistake), but he’d like the option.

“Maybe you wouldn’t want to leave so much if you made more friends,” Youji says helpfully.

“Stop that.”

“I can’t help it, you’re broadcasting your thoughts so loudly,” Youji says, his voice abashed.

“I am not. I have complete control over my thoughts. This is ridiculous. Call the divine Avatar and tell her to stop this stupid bond thing. I refuse to be a divine champion if I have to keep sharing my thoughts with the three of you.”

“I keep telling you, I don’t know how to summon her. She just shows up. I’m not sure why you keep thinking I have special access to Madhuri anyway.”

“Probably because you call her Madhuri like she’s a childhood friend and not a divine Avatar,” Masaomi says. He’s only known this man for three weeks, and he’s still not sure if Youji is purposefully evasive or if he’s genuinely bad at understanding subtext. Because it has certainly occurred to Masaomi (and Shiori, he’s sure) that Youji is the one whom Madhuri chose to rescue Masaomi from prison. Of the four of them, Youji is the only one Madhuri has talked to without the presence of the others. Masaomi doesn’t believe for a second that Youji is too dim to understand that makes him different from the rest of them.

“What else am I supposed to call her? She didn’t give a family name,” Youji says, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Masaomi gives up.

“If she shows up again, tell her to remove the bond,” Masaomi says, turning to leave. “Or I’m not helping anymore.”

#mikki writes #Honor the Words #The Magpie Chronicles #akaryu masaomi #yamazaki youji #kitahara hinami #nakahara shiori #My writing #exceprt

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that1girloverthere · 4 years

Text

Burning Sunflowers

Chapter 5

His steel grey eyes stare into mine and I feel breathless.

"Listen up!" He calls, his voice deep and commanding, and only as he moves to step off the ledge he was so precariously standing on does he look away from me.

Air finally renters my lungs and I vaguely here someone beside me speak but I pay them no mind as I push myself further forward in the group of initiates. My skirt gets stepped on once or twice and I only stop to fix it when I am nearly at the front.

"My name is Eric and I'm one of the leaders here at Dauntless. We commend you on your bravery thus far, but the real work has yet to begin. To join us you first have to jump."

A hand grips my elbow slightly and I face my Dauntless-born friend, "I'm starting to think they made this process just for you." I smile, thinking about how he may be correct, fantasizing about the feeling of the wind surrounding me again.

"Is there water at the bottom or something?" An Erudite asks from my left, his hair is a brassy red sporting a few small pieces of rock stuck in it from his landing.

Eric merely shrugs, his toned shoulders raising slightly with the movement. "Jump and find out."

This seems to send a collective chill down everyone's spine, creating a stunned silence throughout the group.

"Well?" The leader questions forcefully, "Who's first?"

Again, he's met with silence and I'm made to question my sanity as I raise my hand, speaking up.

"Me. I'll go."

He raises his eyebrows in both confusion and what seems like a taunt. Whispers break out in the group as they come to find me as I step away from the crowd. My red and yellow clothing making me stand out strangely.

"An Amity?" Eric asks, knowing full well that's what I am. Or at least what I was.

I nod, finally making it to the edge of the building, looking over with my hands pressed to the brick. A black void meets me, making my palms become slick.

"Are you scared, Sunshine?" A candor from the far back of the group calls out causing a few people to laugh. It makes my blood boil and forces my body to climb onto the ledge despite my fear, not wanting them to see me falter.

"Today, initiate." Eric says, and I can't tell what lays beneath his stare but it's anything but the boredom he seems to portray in his tone.

I put my back to the hole and fully face the group before me.

"Hey, Candor?" I speak, watching as the boy takes a few steps towards me in answer, his face becoming clear as he stands at the far front of the group. A smirk drags at my lips.

As we make eye contact I begin searching for something in the fabric of my skirt.

"Can you hold this for me?" I ask, the meek girl they assume I am.

He chuckles but even his laugh seems laced with anger and disgust. "Sure thing, Sunshine."

Eric growls to my left and I can tell he's quickly getting tired of both of us.

"Oh, here it is." I call out, my tone too cheerful for my liking. I lift my hand from the red fabric of my skirt and pull up my hand, my middle finger raised.

I manage to see his initial look of outrage and can't help but laugh as I let myself fall.

Air rushes around me and I again feel at peace, my laugh falling with me, only it's cut short when I land on something, making me bounce back up slightly. A net. I smile and stare up at the small square of light above, showing me just how far I fell. Hands reach out and grab me, lifting me as if I weigh nothing, setting me on my feet gently.

"What, did you get lost?" A tanned, handsome man says to me. I grit my teeth as I answer.

"No."

He lets out a breath, a smirk playing in his lips. "What's your name?"

"Violet."

This time he gives me a true smile, his eyes crinkling a bit at the sides.

"First jumper, Violet!" He screams and the people around me I had yet to see applaud so loud I feel the vibrations in my chest. As I move to step down from the concrete slab I was placed on he leans into me and speaks in a hushed voice, "Welcome to Dauntless."

+ + +

I'm left to watch the rest of my fellow initiates jump off by myself. A small group of Candor had formed on the ground quickly after me, not caring to make conversation, most likely still pissed at my display with their friend. It's only when a streak of blue lands in the net, a yelp coming with them, do I gain company.

She comes racing up to me and for a moment I wonder if she plans to hurt me.

"That was amazing!" She calls out, a broad smile on her face.

"It was a pretty nice fall." I offer up, watching as she struggles to fix her wind blown blonde hair that falls to her collarbone.

"What?" She questions, tilting her head slightly. "Oh!" She laughs a bit and from her perky attitude I start to wonder if she might have been better off in Amity.

"No, not the fall. What you did with Bryce. That was hilarious!"

Bryce must be the poor Candor boy that seems to still be on the roof.

"Yeah," I grin, proud of my actions. "I don't really take well to being called Sunshine."

"I can already tell we're going to be good friends," she laughs, "I'm Clare." She extends a hand out to me in greeting and for a moment I pause, having seen the gesture before but never actually participated in it. Amity normal hugged in greeting.

"Violet." I grip her hand in what I hope isn't too harsh of a grasp and shake it once, then twice, before letting go.

Just then a scream tears through the room as a body falls into the net. Only it didn't seem to be from fear but rather rejoice.

My black clad friend from the trip here climbs from the net on his own and only gives the man next to it a look before his name is called out.

"15th Jumper, Kai!"

He makes his way to me and I can't help but smile at the sheer excitement in his eyes. "There you are my little Amity."

"Ah ah ah, I'm Dauntless now." I say to him, giving him a playful glare.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, "Then what shall I call you, my lady." He bows before me.

Both Clare and I laugh loudly, earning us some stares from the other initiates.

"Violet will do just fine."

He raises from his kneel and smiles up at us.

"And you?" He nods towards the Erudite by my side and I can tell she's flustered by the attention.

"Clare," she responds, pink tinting her cheeks.

"Nice to meet-" Kai is about to finish his sentence when the man who helped me from the net claps his hands loudly, silencing everyone.

"Alright gather around!" We all scramble into place, no one daring to disobey him, leaving Kai to join the Dauntless borns with only a wink as a goodbye.

"My name is Four, I'll be your instructor for the extent of your initiation. When I'm not training, I normally work in the control room."

The group of us stays silent, watching him intently as he paces back and forth before us. Even just the way he walks seems intimidating. His body is lean but in no way weak, prominent muscles define his arms beneath the shirt he wears.

"Transfers will also be trained by Eric, the man who you just met on the roof, so expect to be seeing our faces often. Dauntless born, you're with Lauren." He stops his pacing and pauses.

"Transfers, follow me."

As he leads the way through dark hallways illuminated in faint blue light, I stare at his back. Lines of a tattoo peak over his collar. As if sensing my stare he stops abruptly and turns to face us, now walking backwards slowly. A light meets us as we reach an edge. The room is like nothing I've ever seen before.

A massive cavern, as if carved from rock, is filled with people, their voices loud and their actions free.

"This is the Pit, you'll eat and shop here. Nearly anything you could want can be found in this area."

We keep walking but I hear people within my group whispering.

"This is amazing," Clare mutters.

We're lead through more hallways before we reach a set of thick metal doors.

"This is where you'll be sleeping," Four says and pushes the doors open, the muscles on his back contracting with the effort.

It's an open room, well lit, with small trunks sitting at the foot of each small bed. In the center of the room is a table that seems haphazardly propped up, suggesting that they set it up only today. Atop it lays mountains of black clothing and underneath it a pile of boots.

"Boys or girls?" Someone asks.

"Both." He says with a smirk that says he enjoys our surprise.

"Pick a bed and some clothing for the week and head down to dinner." With that he leaves, banging the doors shut, making a few people jump.

"Shower anyone?" Someone jokes but even the comment seems half hearted.

I manage to grab a bed in a corner of the room furthest from the open bathroom, not wanting to be stuck next to people while they showered or worse. Clare joined me to my right.

"I can't believe they want us to live like this. All out in the open." She stresses, walking with me to grab our new clothing.

I nod my head but can't say I'm as repulsed as she is. "Amity was like this in certain places," I comment, digging through a pile of black long sleeve shirts to find my size. "No one really cared about being seen in vulnerable moments since the body is thought of as natural."

"That sounds..." Clare shivered next to me, coming away with a stack of now folded shirts and pants. We both bent over in unison to grab a pair of the thick combat boots available. "Terrible."

"It wasn't all too bad. Granted it wasn't something I'd like to continue experiencing," I felt a pang of guilt and sadness at the loss of that lifestyle but pushed on. "But it's not as terrible as you think, especially when everyone is raised to think that way."

We walk back to our cots, her taking to carefully placing the excess outfits in the trunk, me tossing the clothes in a heap on the mattress.

I grab a long sleeve shirt and a tight pair of black jeans and before I can consider an alternative I begin undressing. I start with my skirt, the fabric having bothered me since I put it on in the morning.

As I'm slipping my leg into the pants I hear wolf whistles over my shoulder and a few shouts of appreciation.

"At least the Amity's good for something!" A person yells.

I pull up my jeans, trying to pay no mind. My cheeks heat slightly, no matter the fact that I'm comfortable in myself it doesn't feel good to be targeted.

"Why don't you fuck off." A male calls from near me and I turn to look at him, appreciative of his support.

He has kind eyes and still has his grey shirt in hand. Makes sense. It'd only be an Abnegation who would step in, even Amity are too scared of confrontation typically to help in a situation like this.

"Thank you," I nod in his direction before hastily removing my shirt and replacing it with a new black one. My arms already warming from the thick fabric.

"No problem, I swear it's like they're animals."

I laugh and can't help but agree.

"Violet," I say, outstretching my hand.

"Owen," he says, shaking it with a tight grip before letting go.

"Sorry to interrupt," Clare says from over my shoulder, "But I could use some help." She'd taken the sheet off of her bed and holds it in her hands.

Moving into action, both me and Owen grip the sheet to cover her while she changes. When she finishes she makes it a point to remake her bed perfectly before we can leave. When me and Owen both give her a look she just shrugs.

"Bad habit."

"It's okay, Abnegation was like that too." Owen says, a soft smile on his lips.

Clare smiles back and puts a hand on her stomach. "If we don't eat now I think I might die."

We all laugh and, wearing our new faction's colors, make our way to the Pit.

#divergent #divergent series #divergent fanfiction #dauntless #divergent four #tobias eaton #amity #eric coulter fluff #eric divergent imagine #eric imagine #eric dauntless #eric coulter imagine #jai courtney #abnegation #candor #burning sunflowers

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skvaderarts · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth Chapter 51: Summation

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Fifty-One: Summation

Note: I had to cook dinner, so I forgot to upload this until 11 pm. I also forgot that it was Wednesday. Just like how I forgot it was one of my friend’s birthdays today. YIKES. My bad hahaha! Check the end-of-chapter notes! Hope you had a good day!

(-~-)

Varying degrees of confusion overtook the entire room as everyone present attempted to try and figure out what was going on. Aside from Magnolia and Lucia, everyone there had heard a great deal about Morgan from the time that the young summoner had described his harrowing ordeal up north, but none of them would have ever expected that she would appear before them, especially at a time like this. And as strange as this all seemed to be for them, it was apparently even stranger for the young summoner.

Standing just a foot or two from her now as he attempted to help her with her bags, she shooed him away, assuring him that she was perfectly capable of handling them on her own. She’d carried them all the way from where she’d been starting to the car, and she’d made it up all of the stairs in front of Magnolia’s house. This would be a snap in comparison.

“Really though, when didja get those wicked tattoos? They had to hurt like hell, right? I mean, how much of your body do they cover, anyway?” Morgan sat her bags down by the side of the stairs, eager to get them out of the way of the walking path. No need to cause anyone to trip. She then looked around the room at the rest of the occupants, nodding to herself as she seemingly considered something. “Sorry I fell out of contact, V. I know you were probably worrying about what happened to me. There was a lot going on back then.”

It occurred to V at that moment that he was wearing a long sleeved V neck sweater. She couldn’t see most of them, only the ones on his wrists and hands and the ones visible around his neck. She was in for one hell of a surprise in more ways than one. They had so much to catch up on despite the fact that it had only been about three years since he’d last see her. Where had that kind of time gone?

A small smile spread across V’s face for a split second as he leaned against the wall, folding his arms around himself. There was still a small part of him that couldn’t believe she was actually standing here in front of him again. She’d certainly gotten taller in the time since he’d last seen her. Not by much, but she had been so very short when last they’d met. Their height difference had always been comical to him. “Likewise. And please, think nothing of it. In all honesty, that is probably more my fault than yours. It’s a bit difficult to mail a letter to someone who is completely transient.”

Nero chuckled to himself from the other side of the room. “Yea, he kinda ran off and joined the circus or something like that. It probably does make it kind of tricky to track someone down when they don’t have an actual address. I don’t even understand how they paid him.”

Morgan blinked in surprise before bursting into hysterical laughter, leaning over to rest her open palms on her legs. She shook her head before looking up again, making momentary eye contact with V. The moment she saw the soft red blush that had spread across his face and the poor job that he was doing to hide it, she started to laugh again, this time even harder than the last time. “You know what, I’m not even surprised. So you joined the circus, hu?”

“As a matter of fact, I did not. It was a traveling theater. There is a distinct difference.” V’s blush deepened as he became visibly embarrassed. Still, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t find that response from Nero entertaining. After all, he knew that he was only joking. They had discussed this previously, and he was honestly pleasantly surprised that his brother remembered what he’d been up to during that window of time.

“Oh, you're totally right, V! One of them doesn’t have animals, right?” The sarcasm was evident in that statement. Was it possible to roll your eyes by speaking alone? Because if so, she had just done it. “So, I can’t help but notice that you're not the only one in the room with that fancy hair color anymore… Care to introduce me?”

For reasons that he couldn’t place, V’s entire brain ceased functionality as soon as she said that, unable to do much in the way of forming meaningful thoughts. Obviously, he knew that they were his relatives, but it hadn’t occurred to him until just then that he’d never introduced them as such before. Well, at least not as a group. He was genuinely surprised by how staggeringly uncomfortable he now was, especially when he barely understood why. Perhaps because she knew he had previously been an orphan?

“Yes, you're quite right. I should.” V gestured towards Nero, finding that it was probably more simple to start with him than it would be with his uncle and father. They took the same amount of introduction, but he had the feeling he knew which of them she would ask the most questions about. “The one you just spoke to is Nero. He’s my younger brother.”

Blinking in surprise, she nodded, giving the youngest descendant of Sparda a thumbs up. She then returned her attention back to V. “Cool. Good to see you’ve got someone in your corner now. Different moms or dads in the equation? If that’s not overstepping.”

“They have different mothers, yes.”

Morgan and V both looked over at Vergil, both seemingly surprised to hear him speak. He had been so quiet up until then that it was actually jarring to see him speak. When she looked back over at V, he gestured towards the older man, nodding in confirmation of what he assumed she had probably just figured out from that statement. “This is my father, Vergil. The one standing next to him is his brother, Dante. My uncle. And I believe you’ve already had some form of communication with Magnolia.”

“Is she your aunt or something like that?” She inquired, clearly noting the lack of a family resemblance. She then lingered on Vergil for a long moment in a manner that the Darkslayer couldn’t quite place. There was some emotion there that seemed familiar to him, but he genuinely couldn’t place the origin of it.

V pondered the question for a moment before nodding slightly, his head tilted somewhat to one side. He didn’t really know how to explain her relationship to him. After all, they were not related, but that didn’t really matter to him in much the same way that he imagined Lady and Trish not being related to Dante didn’t change anything. The only problem was that they didn’t have that kind of relationship, either. Perhaps something more familial, but not in a sibling sort of way. “Something more than that, but not by any blood or marital bonds.”

Magnolia blinked in surprise. She was clearly taken aback, but in a good way. And then that state of surprise instantly migrated to something else entirely. She was genuinely flattered, but she had to admit that the feeling was mutual. It was hard to place her finger on it, but V did indeed mean a great deal to her. She’d spend every moment since she’d helped bring him back from the space beyond death worrying that he would return there. She genuinely did care about him, and she was glad to see that he did, too.

Dante’s pupils dilated a few centimeters at the statement, a staggering amount of serotonin rushing to his brain as he seemed to physically process the fact that one of his nephews had actually just called him their uncle. It was true, after all. He was indeed their uncle… but he was certain that he’d never heard one of them actually say as much, and he was honestly expecting Nero to be the first one to ever bring it up. He felt a sudden urge to lay down. Or, at the very least, sit down. Something he did immediately.

Continuing to look at them both, Vergil joined his younger twin on the couch, seemingly pleasantly surprised that his eldest son had actually mentioned their relation to him and not just their names. He would not have objected if he had, either way, he was taken off guard by his son’s sudden moment of transparency. Morgan had clearly earned his trust.

“Nice to meet you all.” She said with a soft but pleasant smile as she looked at each of the people that he had just introduced. Especially you, Nero. Us annoying little siblings have to stick together, you know?”

“I think I like her, V,” Nero said, making a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. She reminded him of Nico in a way, except much less overtly chaotic. Well, at least so far. She had kicked a dude off of a truck and down a mountain to his probable death as a young teenager. That was pretty hardcore.

“And speaking of annoying siblings…” She made her way across the short space between her and Bren, only to pull her leg back and kick him full force in the shin. He yelped and hopped up and down, her foot clearing finding its mark with devastating force. She folded her arms across his chest, shaking her head as he regained his composure, clearly dissatisfied. “Brenowin Linquist! Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in right now? My High School graduation is tomorrow! What the hell did you do this time?!”

“Using the first and last name, hu? Looks like I’m dead already and I just don’t know it.” He shrugged in embarrassment, clearly genuinely ashamed of his actions. Morgan never yelled. She got excited, but it was rare for her to raise her voice in anger. “I thought you said you hated that preppy school full of rich kids and that you weren't even going to that graduation ceremony in the first place.”

“Oh, I’m not. But you still would have made me miss it if I wasn’t planning on not going.” She shook her head and sat down on Magnolia’s stairs. She seemed to watch everyone silently for a moment before shrugging and

“You know what? That’s a good point. I’m sorry about all of this. It’s my fault. Again. I really hope you can forgive me for it one day.”

Magnolia’s brow furrowed. “Wait… your graduation is in late September? That doesn’t seem quite right. I’m surprised that your school has a graduation ceremony at all.”

The young woman nodded in agreement. “Normally it would have been in June, but then Redgrave City happened and the parents of almost a third of the school died or went missing, so they decided to push it back and have us come back in September if we still wanted to do it. Guess it would have been a major downer to watch like half of the students and faculty cry hysterically on the stage, and they just have to keep up appearances at all costs, ya know?” She shrugged nebulously, but it was obvious that there was some sort of history there. None of them were going to ask about it, however. Especially not Vergil. He was too busy trying his level best to will himself out of the room, the reality of the indirect (and somewhat direct) results of his actions weighing down on him like a tin can in a hydraulic press. He really had done that to them, hadn’t he…

“Rich kids aren’t allowed to show that they have feelings. The school taught us that much. They would have probably waited to tell us our families died just so that it didn’t interfere with our test scores if the timings had coincided. The school has a reputation for having the best test scores or whatever. But the disaster just missed the testing period so they didn’t need to.” Bren folded his arms, shaking his head. He certainly didn’t miss that damn school. He had her beat by two years, but that didn’t mean that anything was different. The same teachers that taught his sister had probably taught him.

“... Why not go just to spite them? They probably say you leave and are expecting you to stay away, sure of their victory against you. I get the distinct impression that they weren't very welcoming to you during your time spent there.”

Everyone in the room turned and looked at V like he’d just grown a second head. That was something that they genuinely would have expected to hear come from Vergil’s mouth. And Vergil seemed to agree, his interest clearly piqued. It seemed that even V had his moments. It was almost humbling to know that he too felt this way about how others acted towards him from time to time.

“I get the feeling you're speaking from personal experience?” Bren said, raising an eyebrow. He seemed genuinely shocked that V had said that. He didn’t seem like he was that passive-aggressive, but then again, they had just met and he was basing that assumption entirely off of how quiet he was and how meek he seemed to be. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he was wrong.

“You would be correct,” V said simply, looking down at the floor for a moment. It hadn’t occurred to him until then that he’d never really told them anything about his teenage years. Everything that had happened between his childhood and the time that he’d met Morgan was difficult and not a topic that he discussed lightly. Perhaps one day, but not in front of a stranger, and certainly not right now. This wasn’t the time.

Realizing that this had the potential to become an incredibly uncomfortable conversation, they decided to change the subject. After all, they had more pressing matters to attend to. V’s curse and the situation that Morgan had unfortunately found herself in were going to be their top priorities. And it seemed that the easiest way of fixing both of those problems was to get rid of their pressure and go after Belial. At this point, it was the only thing they could do. But how to go up against an opponent that they couldn’t find or effectively do battle against? This was going to be tough, but they had been through tuff before. They could do this. They just needed more information and an actual plan.

“By any chance, are you the ones that everyone is talking about on the news? Because you look like them, and ya kinda look like you just got out of a fight. No offense.” Morgan chuckled to herself as shook her head. V just attracted crazy people and trouble like a moth to a flame didn’t he. “Everyone is saying that you keep showing up to save the day during these huge disasters. Were you there during the Redgrave incident? And as for the graduation… I just might. You make a good point.”

“Whatever brings you satisfaction,” V said in an almost sinister tone that took them off guard. Nero shook his head slightly and laughed to himself. Sometimes he forgot that V could be an utterly terrifying force of nature when he wanted to be. Perhaps it was best that he kept his older sibling away from a school filled with spoiled, rude brats. But somehow he had the feeling that V had prior with exactly that sort of peer group. That little peek into his past had revealed quite a bit, and now he could speculate. It would explain his lack of interest in social interaction. Children could be cruel.

“Actually… yea, you're not wrong. They’re talking about all of us. They’ve just never seen everyone at once. We kinda turn up to get rid of the demons during stuff like that.” Dante said casually. There was no point in hiding it. She was right, and they didn’t have time to waste on mysteries. “Me and Vergil weren't at the station just now, but Nero and V were. And Lucia. And… um….” He didn’t know the slightest bit about Flora. In fact, her name escaped him at the moment. Had they even met before? She’d been at V’s house the entire time, so he couldn’t be sure.

“Flora. I’m Flora. Don’t worry about me though. I’m with her” She said pointing at Magnolia,” And not with them. Well, I’m with them, but we're not related or anything. I just came to town to help out about two weeks ago. Field studies and all that. You know how it is. Or maybe you don’t. Look I don’t-” She stopped abruptly, deciding to chew her gum instead of saying more. Everything that had just happened had completely destroyed her will to live. She wasn’t good at introductions. At all.

V kicked himself internally for forgetting to mention Lucia. She’d been right there, after all. He just hadn’t really known what to say. “Lucia is an old friend of Dante’s. She’s not related to any of us, at least from what we know.”

Lucia nodded, giggling to herself quietly. If they’d only known. She was not, in fact, a descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda. But her mother and Dante and Vergil’s father had been close for years. For all they knew, it could have very well turned out differently should he had not met Eva. She couldn’t say. She only had her mother’s stories to go off of, and she didn’t particularly want to know those stories. Too much personal information, especially if something more substantial had occurred.

He looked down at his arm, noticing that he’d been rubbing it idly for a few minutes now. V wasn’t entirely sure what had made him notice, but he was inexplicably drawn to it all of a sudden. And when he did look at it, he felt his blood run slightly cold. He’d been gone from the house for entirely too long.

“Perhaps it is best that we head to my house. It would be a better place to discuss this… “

Noticing the slight hint of worry in V’s voice, Vergil nodded. It was best that they take both of them somewhere more secure. Well, all three of them, actually. They could keep a better eye on them all if they were in one place. “Yes, I believe it is time to give Magnolia her house back. We have matters to attend to.”

(-~-)

I’M BACK, EVERYONE! I’ve missed you all, but I am so very glad that you talked me into taking a little break! I didn’t see your wonderful messages until now, and I just wanted to say that I genuinely adore all of you, and your kindness was very much needed and appreciated. Your encouragement and compassion meant the world to me, and I’m happy to say now that I’m okay and ready to keep writing! From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU! I’m excited to see you all again in the comments and on Friday! Take care!

#Hiraeth #V #Dante #Vergil #Nero #Lucia #My OC's #My DMC OC's #DMC

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

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[LOTR AU] Carewyn “Carey” Cromwell-Took and Orion II Ellessar, Son of Arathorn and Heir to the Throne of Gondor Moodboard

Inspired by @drinkyoursoupbitch and @no-moon-nor-stars!! xoxo

x~x~x~x~x

The small band of travelers settled in a glen just outside the marshy Swanfleet. It would take some time to follow the river up toward Rivendell, so it was decided that it’d be best to take that journey at first daylight. One by one, the members -- Gwendolyn “Wendy” Copper, shieldmaiden of Rohan; her partner and Rider of the Mark, Benjamin; and the elvin twins Selene and Artemis Claire de Lune -- all fell off to sleep.

Orion lit his pipe, the tiny flame flickering in the dark. The campfire had nearly gone out and, he thought, perhaps that was best. With the rumors circulating about the cursed One Ring having been found, he deemed it wise to not attract too much attention.

The ranger called “Amari” had thought he was the only one awake at first, until the soft chirping of crickets and rustling of trees gained fresh accompaniment.

“Far over the Misty Mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old,

We must away ‘ere break of day

To find our long forgotten gold...”

Orion looked down, to see the final and smallest member of their group -- Carewyn Cromwell-Took -- carrying a small pile of wood over to the dying campfire. It was little wonder Orion hadn’t noticed her at first. He wasn’t impressively tall himself, but he still towered over the female hobbit. The thought had crossed his mind that she might even be considered small by hobbit standards, given that she only came up to his waist at full height.

“The pines were roaring on the height;

The winds were moaning in the night;

The fire was red, it flaming spread --

The trees like torches...blazed with light...”

Her singing had actually lulled Orion into a rather relaxed state of mind, like a child listening to an engaging story -- but seeing her putting down the stack of wood she was carrying and poke the fire prompted him to say something.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” he said very softly, “but given that we aim to travel with stealth, it may be prudent to let it die out, so as not to draw attention to ourselves.”

Carewyn looked up, startled. Then her blue eyes softened and her ruby red lips curled up in a half-smile.

“I see what you mean,” she said, “but given the rumors...well, might the Nazgul take notice?”

Orion blinked. “The Nazgul?”

“Yes -- from what I’ve heard, they’re slaves to Sauron, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” said Orion. “They were corrupted by the nine Rings of Power Sauron gave them, and so can only follow his will and orders. If the One Ring has appeared, as they say...I daresay they would be the most dangerous threat we could meet, while traveling at night.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Carewyn with a nod. “Their primary weakness is sunlight, so they shouldn’t chase us by day...but they’re also weak to fire, so...”

“...Keeping a fire lit until morning would be wise, in case we needed to defend ourselves from a Nazgul attack,” Orion finished.

His voice was very level, but he was actually quite surprised. He hadn’t expected a being of creature comforts like a hobbit to be so...well, resourceful.

Carewyn nodded and set about relighting the fire. She poked the cinders into an open flame, added a cluster of sticks and some leaves, and soon was able to bring it back to glowing, golden light.

Orion considered the tiny woman’s back with interest.

“...The song you were singing,” he mused, “is it from your homeland?”

“The Shire?” asked Carewyn. “No -- I learned it from the dwarves of Erebor. It’s the tale of how the dragon Smaug conquered their home, oh, many, many years ago...”

“You traveled to the Lonely Mountain?” Orion asked, raising his eyebrows curiously. He’d never heard of a hobbit traveling somewhere that far, let alone dangerous. He leaned forward, resting an arm on top of his crossed legs.

“Yes. My brother Jacob had apparently had dealings with the dwarves of Erebor...so I went with two of my friends from the Shire, Bill and Charlie Weasley, to meet them. The dwarves weren’t able to give me all the answers I was looking for, but they were kind enough to host us for a few days. Duncan, son of Dain and Prince of Erebor, sang the Song of the Lonely Mountain during one of their feasts, and I asked him to teach me the words. It was actually on that same trip that I first met Ben.”

“I see...”

Orion put down his pipe at last, his dark eyes trailing over Carewyn’s face with a marked interest. He hadn’t been sure what to make of the two Rohirrim who rode alongside a little she-Hobbit on a white pony when they first collided, but it seemed that this little Lady Took had far more grit than her pretty white shirt with the bow-trimmed collar and wide tan skirt would suggest.

Carewyn cocked an amused eyebrow at Orion. “Are you surprised, that I traveled to the Lonely Mountain?”

Orion inclined his head respectively. “Forgive me -- I can’t claim any intimate knowledge of hobbits...but my understanding was that your people aren’t the kind to chase adventure.”

“We’re not, for the most part,” said Carewyn. “Nor am I either, truthfully. But my brother was -- he always took more after the risk-taking ‘Took’ side of our family, out of the two of us...”

Her gaze drifted down to the fire as she settled herself down on a small stone next to it. The golden-red light of the flames passed over her face, leaving dark shadows around her eyes and on the apples of her cheeks.

“He left the Shire to travel Middle Earth,” she said softly. “But just as he was about to come home...his letters stopped abruptly. We tried to reach out to other towns close by, but no one had heard anything from him. Weeks turned into months, and then a year and still...nothing. So I finally decided to set out and find out what happened to him. And it’s that journey that’s led me here.”

“Do you believe your brother has a link to the One Ring?” asked Orion.

“I believe he was hot on its trail, at least. He tracked its last sighting down to a cave in the Misty Mountains. Apparently from there, it was rumored to have been stolen by a hobbit and taken back to the Shire.”

Orion’s eyebrows furrowed. Was Carewyn’s brother the one who’d found the Ring and supposedly brought it to the elves of Rivendell?

“How long ago was this?” he asked.

“I can’t say for sure, but it was definitely a long time ago,” said Carewyn with a frown. “I hardly know how it could’ve been so long without anyone in the Shire catching wise, considering how in-everyone-else’s-business they all are...but considering the One Ring has now been found, I guess we’ll find out whether what Jacob heard is true or not.”

“And you might have your next lead about what happened to your brother,” surmised Orion.

Carewyn nodded, her eyes still on the flames. She paused for a moment -- then, without fully raising her head, she looked up at Orion out the top side of her eye.

“...Amari...may I ask you about your homeland?”

Orion raised his eyebrows airily.

“I’m afraid I don’t have one to speak about, Ms. Took.”

Carewyn frowned. “Did your family also travel?”

“If they did, I can’t testify to it,” said Orion with a light shrug of his shoulders.

Carewyn looked confused for only a few seconds -- then her eyes softened in a sad realization.

“...Do you not have a family, Amari?”

Orion gave the hobbit a small, reassuring smile. “No. But don’t pity me too much, Ms. Took. I’ve created a family of my own over the years, out of the friends I’ve made across Middle Earth. Much like you have, from what I can see.”

He nodded to the two sleeping Coppers. Wendy had fallen asleep with her head on Ben’s shoulder, only for Ben to likewise fall asleep with his head on top of hers.

Carewyn’s eyes softened upon her friends.

“...Yes, I have,” she murmured, and her voice echoed with fondness.

She glanced back up at Orion, her ruby red lips curled up in a small smile.

“I’d say you have more royalty in your family than I do in mine, however.”

Orion looked down at Carewyn, looking a bit taken aback for the first time.

“...What makes you say that?”

His voice was as balanced as usual, but he watched her face very carefully, all the same.

Carewyn’s eyes drifted away, landing somewhere in the area of his shoulder as she smiled a bit more wryly.

“Your...affect, I suppose,” she said thoughtfully. “Something in the way you talk and hold yourself reminds me of Duncan...though, of course, Duncan doesn’t tower over me nearly as much as you do.”

Orion couldn’t fight back a soft chuckle. “I daresay the Prince of Erebor also doesn’t dress in the attire of a ranger.”

His dark eyes sparkled with amusement, but they still trailed over the hobbit’s ginger hair and almond-shaped eyes carefully.

This Carewyn Cromwell-Took was truly a very intriguing woman...

Her ruby red lips still curled up in a pretty smile, Carewyn got to her feet and crossed over to the large tent that Orion, Ben, and Artemis had put up earlier.

“Now then, shouldn’t you get off to bed too?” she said. “If you’re going to be helping us navigate tomorrow, your eyes will need to be in top shape.”

“Yes, but one of us should stand guard over the camp,” Orion pointed out. Seeing Carewyn’s reproachful look, he added a bit more gently, “I shall go to sleep once you have, Ms. Took.”

He suspected that she herself was also the sort of person to not go to sleep until everyone else had. It appeared he was right, since she crossed her arms and gave him a rather cool expression.

“I will go to sleep once I know you’re actually going to go to sleep, not just say you’re going to do it.”

Orion chuckled again. “All right, then.”

He leaned back onto the grass, resting his arms behind his head and folding his cloak into something of a pillow. Once he was lying down, he heard the flap of the tent move again.

“Oh...and Amari?”

“Yes, Ms. Took?”

“Please call me Carewyn. Or ‘Carey,’ if you’d prefer. I don’t let anyone call me ‘Ms. Took,’ unless they’re someone I’d like to remain a stranger.”

“I’m grateful that I’m not in that category, at least.”

Despite the lightness in his voice, however, Orion’s dark eyes softened slightly. He could hear the pretty smile in her voice when she spoke again.

“Good night, Amari.”

“...Good night, Carewyn.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #lord of the rings #au #carewyn cromwell #jacob's sibling #orion amari #fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #aesthetic #moodboard

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drunk-onsunlight · 4 years

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Day #2 of Promptmas

Chapter 2: I'll hold your hands (they're just like ice)

Summary:

Peter, Morgan and MJ go home to wrap some gifts for everyone but MJ has a huge bag full of money to hide while Tony and Pepper try not to ruin the Christmas decorations at their lovely home

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Beautiful what’s your hurry?

Chapter 2: I’ll hold your hands (they’re just like ice)

Concept: Decorating & Gift wrapping

Dialogue: “Your hands are freezing” & “That ornament doesn’t go there”

Peter, MJ and Morgan arrived to the apartment after their Christmas shopping with lots of presents for everyone. The whole gang wasn't going to get together for Christmas but they will send all the gifts to their respective owner. MJ's mom wanted to see her and MJ was definitely not hyped. She wasn't going to tolerate any discussions about politics, economy or her love life choices. Those topics were forbidden with her family. MJ wasn't physically tired, emotionally... Maybe a little. She was so used to Peter and Ned, but adding the Starks was another level, they were like Peter's family. If she wasn't good at managing her own family relationships, Peter's family relationships were just as complicated to interact too. And she just hanged out with Morgan, MJ have never met Pepper or Anthony. Peter knew her opinion on Stark Industries, the "privatization on World Peace" as Tony Stark once called it and many other things with the billionaire. That's exactly why she did all she did. She wasn't stealing anything from poor defenseless people, they deserved it. And seeing so many super heroes on the news gave her an idea a few months ago, actually one superhero and one article: The Bugle's accusations on Spider-Man. Was he actually a threat? He was helping people around and saving the city from a few awful looking monsters, but is it good to take justice in your own hands? Well, that was exactly what she was doing. The leather suit, the mask and the silver wig was just to not get caught.

The idea of using a closed mask like Spider-Man gave her terrible images of getting sick, chocking and dying without anyone knowing. Not thanks. She preferred the wig that made her look like a dream and the mask that make her eyelashes more visible, she even wore contact lenses, not common contacts, they were modified to see various ranges of the electromagnetic spectrum, she was also trained in martial arts. And the leather suit was very useful to distract people when she needs it. After they went inside the apartment, Morgan, Peter and MJ took off their gloves and jackets. Peter took a small package on his hand and left it on his room and then came back to help Morgan with the million boxes she had dropped on the couch. In that moment MJ knew she had to take her bag to her room and hide a few things, some legal and other not so legal. She managed to sneak out of the living room and when she locked the door on her room, she emptied the bag she was carrying. Two books, the silver wig, the cat mask and 5.000 dollars fell to the mattress. She placed the books on her night stand, the wig and mask under her bed and then took off her clothes to remove the leather suit. The money was a little more complicated to hide, a few shoes boxes will do fine on the top of her closet. After hiding everything she went back to the living room and found Peter and Morgan struggling with some gift wrapping paper. The scene was really cute, actually. Morgan was placing her little hands on the table to hold the paper in place and Peter was trying to fold the paper around a mountain of kitchen supplies. They were a mess. "Do you guys need some help?" MJ asked trying to hide her smile at the ridiculous but cute scene "oh, please! Peter is terrible at wrapping gifts" Morgan looked totally mortified but had funny expression "Me? You are not helping much little lady" Peter looked so troubled that MJ decided to take him out of his misery "ok. First of all, that's not the way to wrap a bakery set. Peter, why on earth are the bowls upside-down?" "He is terrible at this. Told you” "Do you have a better idea, Morgan?" "Nope. But MJ has. You do, right?" Morgan looked at her with pleading eyes "I do. Didn't this have a box or something like that? I can't think of a store just giving a full bakery set without a box" Peter and Morgan looked at each other on a silent conversation and if MJ was getting things right, Peter was on the 'I told you so' part. "You didn't bring the box, didn't you?" "Nope" Peter and Morgan answered at unison "Morgan thought it was better to wrap everything outside the box so it didn't looked so 'lame' if I recall correctly" "And you can't say no to Morgan. Ok, then we can find a nice way to place everything into the big bowl like a fruit basket but with kitchen supplies. Better idea?" "Oh, my god! Yes! That's perfect" Morgan was delighted and Peter relieved. MJ knelt between Morgan and Peter and started removing a few straps of paper that, somehow, Peter managed to hold to the mountain of supplies. She placed the big bowl on the center of the wrap paper and then started to place the different tools on it in the best way possible. When everything was placed on the bowl nicely, she stared to lift the paper around the bowl to hold it above the supplies, it looked like a big candy. MJ put her hands around the wrapping paper and realized she didn't have any ribbons close by to finish. "Peter, can you put your hands here so I can find a ribbon for this?" "Yeah, totally!" he instantly moved his hands to where MJ had hers. When their hands made contact she realized she was freezing or Peters hands were just too warm for her "MJ, your hands are freezing! Do you want some tea?" "yeah. That would be nice. Thanks. But after we finish this" Peter still had one of his hands over MJ's and after a second too long she remembered she needed a ribbon to tie the present. She tried to make a nice ribbon and to make the paper look decent after Morgan and Peter's attempts at wrapping the bakery set. Peter went to their kitchen and started the kettle for MJ's tea and then decided to make some hot chocolate for him and Morgan. MJ kept wrapping more gifts, those were easier to wrap, especially May and Pepper’s shoes, thank God they had those boxes.

Morgan helped MJ cutting tape and that made MJ’s job easier. She discovered that Peter bought a nice dress for May, a Netflix gift card for Happy, Spider-Man and Iron Man plushies for Anthony and a planner for Pepper. No gifts for Morgan or MJ, that she could see, he always made sure that MJ had a very embarrassing present, last year’s was a terrible Christmas sweater that he made her wear for a full day.

“MJ, bring the gifts you bought for everyone so we can wrap them!” How can you tell a 10 year old that you actually snuck off to steal some money from a bad guy and not to buy presents for her family and your friends?

“I want to keep those a secret because Peter is terrible at keeping secrets and I don’t want you, May, Betty or Ned finding out what I bought for them.” Perfect excuse, Peter was terrible at keeping secrets, he got too exited and started oversharing things he knew

“He is actually really good at keeping secrets” Morgan said after a few seconds in a quiet voice while holding the plushies MJ wrapped for Peter. She remembered the Iron Man plushie and realized Morgan’s Dad was Iron Man, he could be retired but if the timeline was correct, Peter knew him since high school and he probably knew other supers. Ned told all their class that Peter knew Spider-Man and Peter looked totally horrified because “he couldn’t speak about it” so yeah, maybe he was good at those big secrets, but little ones? Not so much

“Well, everybody has secrets Morgan, it’s up to us who do we trust with the big ones” MJ felt her leather suit was screaming at her from the room across the hallway, her secret was a big one. One nobody knew about, not her friends and definitely not her family. Just one specific person and he was hell good at keeping her secret

“and Christmas gifts are huge secrets, peanut” Peter said entering the living room with MJ’s tea and hot chocolate for him and Morgan. He was sitting next to MJ while Morgan was in front of them, they chatted for a few minutes when Peter got a call from Pepper.

“Hi, Pete!” Peter placed his phone on the table in the center so everyone could hear. It made MJ a little uncomfortable, she felt out of place, like she wasn’t meant to hear this conversation

“Hi, Mom!!!”

“Hi, Pepper” MJ didn’t say hi, she just kept listening to the rambling and weird noises in the background of the call

“Oh! Hey Morgan. I was actually calling Peter to let him know that Happy is going to get you. Your dad wants you back to help us decorate the house. Would you like that? I know you wanted to spend time with your brother but he saw a few festive decorations and bought a lot of things and now it’s freaking out because I don’t have creativity… his words, not mine”

“It’s true!! You can’t place those led lights on the fireplace, that’s terrible! And the stockings have to be there, so no lights!” MJ hear clearly everything Stark was shouting from not so far away from Pepper apparently

“Sounds like an emergency mom” Morgan was looking at peter trying not to laugh a loud

“I’m sending Happy to get you or your dad will drive me crazy! Tony!!! That ornament doesn’t go there!!!” This time Morgan and Peter shared a loud laugh.

“Nothing new I can see” Peter looked fondly at this phone with their exchange.

“Morgan, please come back” Pepper sounded mortified.

“It’s fine. She will be ready to go when Happy gets here, promise”

“and Pete, we would love to see you and your girlfriend on Christmas. Think about bringing her for some dinner or a lunch or just a coffee! I would love to meet her. Bye!” The phone went quite, just like the three of them. Morgan was looking the phone with curious eyes, Peter was bright red with big eyes and mouth open, MJ didn’t knew how she looked but surprised was a good start.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, you have a girlfriend and didn’t tell me?” oh, oh, Morgan sounded mad.

“What? No! I have no idea what she’s talking about! You should ask your mom where she got that terribly wrong information” Peter was trying to process the last two minutes while getting back his phone from the table

“oh! I definitely will! And after that we are having a serious conversation, brother. MJ, did you know something about this? After all, you guys live together”

“Actually no. I have no idea what your mom was talking about, this idiot can’t be normal so think about him dating someone... Totally unreal!” MJ wanted to ease the mood a little, Peter looked like he wanted to hide somewhere before Morgan killed him.

“ok, peanut! Go grab you coat, gloves and scarf while I pack the gifts back on their bags so you can place them under the Christmas tree” Peter helped Morgan up from the floor and took the mugs to the kitchen. The girl started to run around the apartment to gather her things. MJ saw her entering Peter’s room and a few seconds later running back to the living room and placing more packages next to the ones Peter was collecting. As soon as they finished packing, the bell rang announcing Happy.

“Bye MJ! Hope to see you again soon” Morgan said to MJ surrounded of bags with all the things she bought for everyone.

“Hope to see you soon too, Morgan!” She wanted to be more formal and send some greetings for her parents but she didn’t even knew them in person and she wasn’t going to pretend she cared enough for that formalities

Soon they were alone and MJ tried to avoid the conversation of the mentioned girlfriend, maybe Pepper hear something and took it the wrong way or she was speaking about Gwen, Peter’s ex. Maybe she didn’t know she was dead. Ok no, they were too close for Pepper not to know about her, probably Pepper knew more details of what happened that she knew. MJ needed to clear her mind so she decided to wear her leather suit again and went out without Peter knowing.

Notes:

Thanks for the comments and the kudos here and tumblr! Love you all :3

Find me in tumblr @drunk-onsunlight

Check more amazing wors in @spiderman-homecomeme

#spideychelle #spideychelle twelve days of promptmas #petermj #betty brant #ned leeds #pepperony #peter parker mcu #michelle jones mcu #morgan stark

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royalcordelia · 4 years

Link

Summary: Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn’t easy, but they’re more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story).

Note: Much love to @withlovegilbert and @js589 who gave me their thoughts about this chapter. You guys rock! ♥

At first, Gilbert thought he was dreaming of feathers—silky feathers trailing down his nose with effervescent softness in long strokes. Once, twice, three times...He scrunched his nose at the tickling sensation, unwilling to move away from whatever warmth he was encased in. The feather smoothed over his brow, trailing down in deliberate slowness to his upturned lips.

“Gil,” a familiar voice whispered, breaking into his dreamless slumber. “I’m loath to wake you up, but I have to get ready to go.”

Gilbert’s eyelashes fluttered on his cheeks as he stirred awake. His dopey grin was sunshine in the dawn-less room when he peered down at the young lady sharing his pillow. For a moment, he could forget that just an hour from now Anne would be gone. Her fingers still caressed the apples of his cheeks, lingering for a long moment. When her touch vanished, she tried to push out of Gilbert’s arms, only to be held against his chest.

“Anne, it’s four in the morning. Lay with me awhile,” he said, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“I have to make the five o’clock train,” Anne replied softly. “Thirty minutes to get dressed. Twenty to walk to the station. Leaves me a few minutes to spare to buy my ticket and board.”

“Take a later train,” suggested Gilbert.

“If I don’t arrive home at a decent time, Mrs. Blackmore will think I’ve been killed, or worse, eloped. Even then, she believes I’m visiting a female cousin on family matters.”

“It’s not too late to elope,” he teased, his lopsided grin finding its way to her jaw. His breath was warm against the morning chill, nearly enticing enough to convince Anne to throw caution to the wind and slide back into bed. Instead, she pressed a good morning kiss to his waiting lips and moved in search of her luggage.

“You should rest a bit longer. I’ll wake you before I leave.”

“If you think you’re walking by yourself to the station, then you are sorely mistaken,” grumbled Gilbert. He dramatically swung his legs out of bed and grimaced at the cold air.

“I don’t mind going to the station by myself. You’re probably still exhausted from the party,” Anne argued, but Gilbert heard none of it.

He grabbed some trousers and a fresh shirt from his dresser, then spoke in a gentle voice, “I’ll wait downstairs for you. Take your time.”

When he was gone, his essence still lingered about the room in the way it smelled and felt. Lovingly, she caressed the soft surface of his quilts, then the smooth wood of his table and dresser. The mirror hanging on the wall had already collected a few month’s worth of dust, but instead of wiping it away, she drew a heart and labeled her initials with her pinky. There might never come another time she could return to the comfort of this room, and as she crossed the threshold, she gave it one last indulgent look.

By the time she was presentable, Gilbert had cracked open one of his textbooks, reading it with sleepy eyes. When he heard her footsteps creak down the stairs, he gently closed the book and smiled wistfully. Anne fell by his side, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Can’t keep Queen Anne away from the island too long, can we?”

Gilbert was quiet the entire walk to the station. Any light topics Anne tested out failed miserably to lighten his mood. He met each of her hopeful smiles with unconvincing attempts of his own, every time turning his face away to the street lamps. The sky was still obsidian in the fresh hours of the morning, unpleasantly starless and cloudy, making Anne glad Gilbert had insisted on accompanying her.

He waited on the platform as Anne purchased her ticket, shoulders slumped. With the ticket in her purse, she came to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Anne’s heart dropped when his heavyhearted eyes met hers. His strong facade had finally fallen, leaving a troubled frown unveiled.

“Gilbert?” Anne asked gently. She couldn’t bring herself to ask what was wrong, unsure if she’d be able to leave if he told her. Gilbert’s gaze fell down to where she was reaching for his fingers.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” he admitted. Despite the bitter taste in her mouth, Anne schooled her features and nodded in encouragement.

“That’s okay. You can tell me now.” She meant it.

Behind him, a high whistle resonated within distance as the train slowly screeched began to screech to a halt. Gilbert caught Anne looking over his shoulder and a flash of panic washed over him. He followed her gaze where a handful of tired passengers boarded the train, but when he felt a soft caress touch his cheek, he whirled back to Anne.

“Go ahead,” Anne prodded gently.

“I really miss you,” he confessed breathlessly. Anne scrambled for something to say to ease his heart, but he rambled on before she could find the right words. “Bash asked you to come because he figured out how homesick I’ve been. It was never so bad because I’d always traveled to escape the realities of home. But now, with Bash and Delphine in Avonlea, and you in Charlottetown…”

Anne’s stomach twisted. “I...had no idea.”

“I tried really hard to hide it in my letters,” Gilbert muttered. “But one of them to Bash was too vague. He made me tell him what was wrong.”

“I should’ve been able to tell,” Anne lamented.

“No, Anne, I made sure you wouldn’t be able to tell. I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve got too much going on.”

Anne felt like she was caught in the undertow, floundering desperately for something to say that would take the cracks in his heart and mend them instantly. Yet she knew that nothing she said could change the fact that in a few moments they’d begin another month and a half of painful separation. She wished she had thought to bring a token of home, anything from the island that she could’ve stuffed into her luggage. All she had was a parting embrace, one that she wrapped around him like an old heirloom quilt. As Gilbert’s desperate arms came around her, she hoped that her warmth would linger enough to give him the strength he needed to see his heartsickness through. Anne could feel Gilbert’s breath on her throat as he heaved a sigh of relief, dissolving into her touch and allowing her to hold him up.

“Remember what I said, alright? You’re intelligent and brave. You’ll get used to life here. If last night was any indication, you already have,” she said, determined and kind.

He nodded against her shoulder, running his fingers over the softness of her hair with tender reverence. Behind him, the train master gave her the Time’s Up glare.

“I have to go,” Anne lamented. Gilbert squeezed his eyes shut.

Instead of asking her to stay, as he so desperately wanted to, he pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “Alright.”

A month and a half suddenly seemed like an insurmountable mountain, the end of which was deathly out of reach. Even though her limbs were weary with lack of sleep, she found the strength to pull away from him to memorize the lines of his cheeks and jaws. She’d never forget the way he looked the day she met him, or the day when he first kissed her, but she wanted to burn today’s Gilbert into her memory and save it for days that were stormy and punishing. Gilbert seemed to be doing the same.

Ever so slightly he tilted his face to her, and she met him, crashing a month’s worth of kisses to his lips until the feeling of it was unfading. His hands were under her cheeks, holding her to him until he had tasted enough of the sunshine on her lips to hold him together.

When they broke apart, Anne leaned down to grab her carpet bag and gave Gilbert one last beaming smile.

“How’s two letters a week sound?”

Gilbert let out a chuckle that was rough with stifled tears. “That sounds perfect.”

She took one step away, then two.

“See you at Christmas.”

“Safe travels.”

As she boarded, the door closed behind her blocking away the fresh air for the duration of her day long journey. When she found her seat, though, she found Gilbert was still there, watching and smiling.

Anne watched her beloved until the sight of him turned into a silhouette of shadow against the train station. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, but hope sparked in her chest as Gilbert heaved a sigh and stepped off the platform with a renewed strength in his shoulders. She imagined him trailing up the Toronto streets like they were Avonlea hills, sheltered in warm dew and residual moonlight. And then, she fell asleep.

It was the last days of November and several love letters from Anne later when Gilbert began to feel like he could actually imagine a future for himself in Toronto. It could never be a permanent future, but it seemed less daunting to imagine another four years in the city—maybe even seven if he wanted to obtain his licensure here. It also meant that he decided to stop living like each day was a battle to survive until Anne and Bash’s next letters arrived. He would have to start doing things here that he liked and turn this loud, boisterous city into a home away from home.

Gilbert went to explain all of this to Dr. Sullivan, who bid him to sit in a stiff leather chair upon seeing the young lad in the doorway. November had brought with it many dreary days of cold and early snow, but today the sun made a much needed reappearance. It filled Dr. Sullivan’s office through two small windows, drowning away the light of a small electric lamp.

“I bet you caught a few perplexed stares on your way here, a medical student wandering the humanities hallway,” Dr. Sullivan teased. He pulled his glasses from his nose and folded them into his breast pocket, peering at Gilbert curiously.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I was wondering if I might beg your help for something?” Gilbert replied, dropping his leather bag onto the ground beside him.

“No begging will be necessary. Your visits are always welcome. Besides, I’ve been marking freshman essays for nearly two hours and could use fresh company. What has you on the wrong side of school?”

“When Anne was here in October, you told her about the Women in Literature class you’re offering next semester. I wanted to add it to my class schedule, but the registrar refused. She said the class is already full, and even if I got you to sign me in, she’d refuse to forward the application to the dean of the humanities college.”

“That’s absurd. Did she give a reason?”

“Only that with fifteen medicine and biology credits, the last thing I’ll want to do is spend my nights reading George Eliot and Jane Austen.”

Dr. Sullivan leaned back in his chair.

“She does make a valid point. The class is a lot of reading—one or two texts a week. Emily tells me you’re already studying more than any other student she’s had. Are you sure you’re prepared for the extra coursework?”

“Anne is back home taking on two fields of study. What good would I be if I couldn’t handle one extra class? I’m determined to do it. I only came because there’s the matter of the class being full.”

“And Miss Eaglen in the registrar’s office taking your fate into her own hands.”

“That too.”

Pushing himself back from his chair, Dr. Sullivan ambled over to his filing cabinet and pulled open a raggedy drawer. He retrieved a stack of type-written pages and turned them toward the sunlight so that he might see more clearly.

“The class is indeed full, but half the seats will be free by the time we finish introducing the syllabus. If you come on the first day, you’ll have nothing to worry about. I’ll speak with Miss Eaglen.”

Gilbert blinked. “Pardon, did you just say that half the class is going to withdraw?”

Dr. Sullivan didn’t look up from his roster. “I did.”

“People can’t hate reading that much.”

“No, but they can and will despise a black professor enough to drop the class.”

Gilbert’s face fell. He couldn’t imagine being accepted into the University of Toronto, only to reject a member of its faculty based on such...asinine prejudice. A faculty member with a PhD, campus wide acclaim, and a kind disposition, at that! How could anyone claim to have gotten the fullest extent of their UofT education if they closed off their minds and only listened to viewpoints of people just like them?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a student so upset on my behalf,” noted Dr. Sullivan, interrupting Gilbert’s mental tirade. Gilbert looked up, only to feel his cheeks locked in a tight scowl. He straightened his chair, expelling his frustration with a small sigh.

“It just hits a bit close to home.”

Dr. Sullivan sat back down at his desk, waiting patiently for Gilbert to elaborate.

“My entire family is black,” Gilbert clarified softly. “My brother, my niece, his mother, my late sister-in-law, her son. It’s not the same, but it breaks my heart to watch them struggle in my hometown, the home that I shared with them. I had hoped that the cruel behavior they encountered could be blamed on the small-town mindset of our community. I didn’t expect to cross the country and find it here in the city too.”

“Every corner of the world has its own brand of enmity and unfairness. You won’t be able to escape it. You could take your brother and his family across the Atlantic and you would find this to be true.”

“I have,” Gilbert chuckled bitterly. “The states, Cuba, Trinidad, Spain. And you’re right, in each country they looked at Sebastian like he was living on the wrong planet.”

“I know the feeling.”

Gilbert wasn’t sure what to say next. Part of him wanted to apologize, but for what? What was some fruitless apology supposed to fix after a lifetime of enduring injustice? It wouldn’t make Dr. Sullivan’s students stay, it wouldn’t make it easier for Delly to go to school, it wouldn’t erase a lifetime of service from Bash or Hazel.

He shook his head. If Anne was here, she’d know what to say.

He must’ve looked particularly defeated, because Dr. Sullivan only smiled and said, “Alright, Gilbert. How about a proposition?”

“A proposition, sir?”

“I propose an independent study. You’ll complete the same assignments as your peers, but will report for class with me in my office twice a week. You’ll have to come prepared with topics for discussion and you won’t be permitted to cut class. And no asking Anne to summarize the books for you. You must complete all the reading yourself.”

When he was done, he extended a hand across his desk and waited for Gilbert’s approval.

Gilbert only had to ponder his options a moment before a grin blossomed on his face. He shook Dr. Sullivan’s hand more excitedly than was permitted for a gentleman and said, “Yes, I think that arrangement sounds wonderful. Thank you so much!”

“Don’t worry about the registrar. She’ll only change her mind with your advisor’s approval, but I’m sure Emily will be more than happy to give it.”

Hurriedly grabbing his things, Gilbert clutched his bag to his chest.

“I’m thrilled, sir. Thank you again.”

Dr. Sullivan chuckled, sliding his glasses back onto his face and leaning forward over the stack of freshman essays before him. As Gilbert rose to leave, he called out, “Gil, one more thing.”

Gilbert paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“What’s the real reason you wanted to take the class?”

The lad shrugged. “You know I love to read.”

Dr. Sullivan was not wholly convinced.

“And?”

“And it’ll give me something to talk to Anne about in my letters,” he confessed. Dr. Sullivan threw his hands in the air and Gilbert let out a loud laugh. “She’s an English major, I have to stay on my toes! But I really do like to read, I promise!”

“You better. You’ve got a lot of it next semester!”

There was no other explanation, except that she was in trouble—so much so, that she was about to be reprimanded by the oldest and sternest professor in the entire English department. Professor Wood was due any second and would no doubt deliver a fierce verbal lashing. Why else would this particular group of schoolmates be summoned into this dim classroom so late in the day? Anne scanned the room, counting three faces that she had...stated an opinion at. Sternly. Perhaps a bit loudly. It had only been a matter of time before her classmates banded against her and the day had finally come.

But who could blame her? It had long been established that Anne was anything but timid and demure, so certainly if they said obtuse things in class, it had to be someone’s job to correct them. If her professors were planning on merely nodding and humming “Hmm, yes, interesting point,” the task would just have to go to her.

“Do any of you know what this is about?” murmured Janie Paul, the only person in the group Anne hadn’t corrected in class. Mostly, though, this could be attributed to the fact that Janie Paul rarely said...well, anything

“We all know what this is about. Or who, ” lamented another classmate.

Four sets of eyes slowly turned to Anne, who leaned against one of the desks with crossed arms.

“It could be about anything!” argued Anne. “Unless you all have been conspiring.”

“Oh please,” scoffed Anne’s worst nemesis. “Like we’d even need to. I bet right now the entire faculty is gathered in the conference room deciding whether or not they want to allow you to remain enrolled at Queens. We’re only here because they want witnesses.”

“That’s preposterous!” Anne snapped.

“Why? You’re a disturbance to class and detrimental to the distinguished education we’re supposed to be receiving.”

“Having a bright mind and a quick wit is not a detriment, Georgie Beckham. Nor is having your opinions challenged. In fact, I’d say it’s rather good for you.”

Anne wondered that there were many things that would do Georgie Beckham some good. A change of heart, a swift kick to the behind, a bath. He was a shortish young man with flat yellow hair that stuck his head with sweat, grease, and dirt. The bottom of his chin was tan from always walking around with his nose pointed up, and he glided about as if he were Queen Victoria herself. Anne had decided with a fury that of all the disagreeable people she’d met, Georgie Beckham was by far the worst. She hated him more than she hated Gilbert the first time she met him, and Georgie wasn’t nearly as handsome or charming.

Georgie’s snobbish nose crinkled when Anne spoke, as if her very essence smelled too strong, like stale perfume or a full garden.

“When they kick you out of Queens, you’ll have to get married to escape ruin and there’s no way you’ll find someone who’ll want you,” he sneered.

For the briefest of moments, Anne wondered what would happen to her if Georgie was right. She supposed she wouldn’t have the money or credibility to attend a different school. Instead, she’d just help on the farm until Gilbert graduated college, then they’d get married. For an even briefer moment, Anne pondered what it would mean if Gilbert decided not to marry her. Such imaginings were too painful, and she pushed aside her doubt.

“I suppose I’m fortunate you’re full of hot air, then,” Anne stated bitterly.

Just then, the classroom door swung open and in walked Professor Agnes Wood, a creaky woman of ninety who still had the energy to teach British Classics and Senior Shakespeare twice a day. Upon stepping into the room, she sensed the restive atmosphere and gave Anne a wary look.

“Stirring trouble already, Miss Shirley?”

“No ma’am. We were just anxious to uncover why you’ve called us all today.”

“All will be revealed presently. Take a seat.”

The five wary students did as they were told, Georgie taking the seat furthest from Anne. Professor Wood moved to the front of the class, commanding attention in its rawest form with a domineering scrutinization.

“Thank you all for arriving in a timely manner. I’m sure receiving this summons has made you curious to the reasoning.” She paused, as if waiting for nods of agreement, but was met with five frightened faces—one especially freckled and pale. To prevent further trepidation, she continued.

“It is my pleasure to inform you of a potential opportunity that has befallen you. You five have been chosen from the entirety of the Education program’s long list of pupils. As you know, Queens is a traditionally education focused college. Many of Canada’s greatest educators have earned their teaching certificates within these walls, though the best of the best were granted this offer. Anne, you look as though you’re a second from keeling over.”

Anne’s head snapped up.

“Oh, I’m just full of suspense,” she admitted eagerly. “Please, continue!”

“Two of you will be granted the opportunity to assist real teachers in their classrooms for the duration of a month. As student teachers, you’ll be expected to aid the instructor in their daily lessons and perhaps lead a few exercises yourself. The assignment is planned for September of next year, however the application process may take some time. The chosen candidates will be announced finals week in May. ”

“If we’d be teaching in the fall, won’t that put us behind in credit hours?” the classmate at Anne’s right asked. Anne rolled her eyes. What were credit hours when there was real actual teaching to be done?

“As a full time hands-on assistant, you would be granted nine credits of your recommended fifteen. Your remaining two classes would be completed via correspondence until you could resume them October 1st. Though only two of you will be chosen, the rest of you needn’t fear. Other opportunities may arise in the coming years and you all are model candidates. I’m sure you have questions, however, and I’ll endeavor to answer them.”

Questions exploded out of the students the way volcanoes erupt after years of boiling. Yet, of the students bursting at the seams with questions, there were two who remained painfully silent. Anne was one, lost in the whirlpool of her thoughts. But in the madness, she realized with narrow eyes there was one more person who was just as quiet and determined as she was—Georgie.

My dear man, who is here with me in spirit and heart,

I would like to begin with a disclaimer: Your last letter had me blushing as much, if not more, than you surely intended. I see through your little tricks, Gilbert Blythe, and let me say, I delight at turning to mush upon reading your words. I will acknowledge them in due time, but first, a matter of utmost importance.

I. HATE. GEORGIE. BECKHAM. I can’t recall if his name has snuck its slimy way into one of my letters before, but here it has made a most unwelcome appearance. And yes, I know hate is a term that Marilla would reprimand me for, yet it cannot and will not be denied that he is the worst person I’ve ever met. Gilbert, I cannot emphasize this enough. I know that in the past, I have not been an excellent judge of character of the male sex, but Georgie has done more than tug my braid and call me carrots. He’s bitter towards women, worships himself in class, and once, I heard him say the most atrocious things about the people of the Bog. Billy Andrews has met his match. And worst of all, Gil-est of Gils, we’re competing for the same student teaching position!

I see I am getting quite ahead of myself. Allow me a moment to compose myself. There.

I have been chosen along with four other students to compete for an opportunity to assist a teacher in an actual school. Professor Wood even thinks that if our progress is satisfactory enough, that we’ll be permitted to lead exercises all on our own. Think of how much I could learn, how ahead of my classmates I’d be! Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, a bona fide teacher! Or, very nearly one!

Of course, there is the chance that Georgie could win the other slot if I receive the first. Oh, this troubles me almost as much as if he were to get the position instead of me! I would fail at the assistantship miserably if he were there, always criticizing every little thing I did. It can’t happen, Gilbert!

It isn’t entirely up to chance. I’ll just have to work very hard to put forth the best application Queens has ever seen. It’s quite involved too—essays, interviews, observations of my character. I’ll have to be on my very best behavior from now until May. Oh, and could I send you my first application essay? I’m writing about integration of community and its positive impact on children. I know you have plenty of reading of your own, so please don’t put yourself out.

Now! That is quite enough about schoolmate nuisances. How are you, my darling love? I’ve had the most peculiar feeling that you’ve had a very pleasant week since your last letter. Is that because Christmas holiday is very nearly upon us and it’s a mere fortnight until we’ll be reunited? That means we have precisely one week to devise our disguises, and I don’t mean fake mustaches and hats! My brand of deception is the flirtatious sort, involving carriage rides with you and promises to Marilla to not wander from Lover’s Lane. Except! We’ll wander off the road and find a place where even the most wandering eyes cannot amble. The falling snow will cover the evidence and I will have some much needed quality time with my ever-captivating suitor. How many kisses shall I reserve for you?

Oh, how easy it would be to spend the rest of the evening writing the world’s longest letter to you. Ten pages on the sweetness of your eyes, another twenty on how divine it is to be wrapped in your warmth, tucked tightly into your arms. Instead, I must direct the vigor in my hand to many drafts of this application essay and begin planning on the second. When the application process is over in May, I’ll have all summer to venerate every ounce of you. And remember, sweet one, I don’t do a thing half-way.

So for now, I’ll sign off. As always, I miss you dearly. I feel like Mr. Rochester did when he thought Jane was going to leave him. If I tug this cord around my rib, will you feel it in Toronto, tugging on yours? Are we still connected in heart, mind, and spirit? I believe we are.

Reader, I love you.

Anne

The two weeks until winter holiday passed with surprising ease. The winter sun, which had gained a habit of suspending over the sky for long hours at a time, seemed to make the days pass at a bearable rate. Anne was relieved to find that finals week wasn’t nearly as dreary as the sophomores had cautioned. She studied long hours by her window, and found her concentration honed to perfection under a bright sun. Exams came and passed, and though she was confident she’d championed them all, she couldn’t feel complete freedom until she was home at Green Gables. When the Carmody-bound train screeched off toward home, Anne leaned her head on Diana’s shoulder and let out a soft sigh.

“Tired, Anne?” asked Diana, leaning her head onto Anne’s hair.

“A bit. That sigh just now was one of relief. American Literature and Geometry may distract one from the strains of homesickness, but college is nothing compared to being home.”

“I daresay I could weather any sort of sickness if you were beside me. I’m so glad I’m only taking a forty minute train ride and not a forty day trek across the ocean.”

Anne hugged Diana’s arm, bringing Diana’s piano-playing fingers to her lips.

“If you had gone to Paris afterall, I’m certain I would have perished. Now we have all month to revisit our old haunts and relive at least some of our youth.”

The train pulled into the Carmody station, pulling Anne out of her light sleep. The world outside moved by slowly as Anne nearly leapt across Diana’s lap to look out at the train platform. Among the many faces of the waiting and leaving, Anne couldn’t find Matthew or Marilla. For a moment, she wondered if something had gone wrong.

“Is that Sebastian?” asked Diana, pointing to the far left of the platform.

Anne grinned. Sure enough, there was Bash talking to Diana’s father in a casual manner. He wore two scarves wrapped around his face to block out the chill, but his eyes were unmistakable and he was wearing one of Gilbert’s old hats.

Knocking into some disgruntled passengers, Anne scurried as fast as she could off the train and over to Bash. He caught sight of her fiery hair among the crowd and stopped what he was saying mid-phrase.

“Now there’s a sight for sore eyes! Hello Anne,” he beamed.

Before she could think better of it, she jumped into his arms and pressed a warm kiss to the scarves over his cheek.

“My, Anne, you’re still quite public about your displays of affection,” commented Mr. Barry, who glanced nervously around the scowls of nearby travellers.

Anne pulled back with a chuckle.

“I do wish you would forget you ever saw that, Mr. Barry. Your family is far too close to Rachel Lynde.”

“Forget what?” Bash asked, but Anne waved her hand.

“Nothing! Nothing!” Before he could argue, she picked her bags back up. “Are you here to pick me up?”

“If you need a ride back home to Green Gables, I’d be happy to drive you, but no, I’m not here for you. I’m here for Gilbert.”

Anne’s heart jumped into her throat.

“Gilbert isn’t due back until tomorrow,” she stated, failing miserably at getting her hopes up.

“No, you weren’t due back until tomorrow. Gilbert was due back today.”

“But I marked my calendar as soon as I got his letter. I wrote to Matthew and Marilla and told them today.”

“Your calendar can say what it wants,” interrupted Bash. His gaze drifted behind her shoulder. “But he’s right there.”

And he was. Marching through the crowd was a young man with snowflakes crowning his curly head and a blush from the chill on his dimples. The sight nearly brought Anne to her knees. She hadn’t realized how desperately she needed to see him, how dull the ache in her heart had grown in their separation. Because she was a woman of very little self-control, she cried out his name above the noise of the chatter with a delighted laugh. His attention snapped to her and he fumbled with his bag. He matched her elated laughter, walking as fast as he could through the web of people.

Anne shoved her bag into Bash’s arms and rushed to meet Gilbert halfway. When he was within reach, he made no greeting or polite salutations. Instead, he grabbed her face in his hand and kissed her in front of the entire train platform. He must’ve felt Anne’s knees go limp the second he tasted her bottom lip, because he quickly wrapped his arms across her back and held her to him.

Claiming the last bit of propriety she could, she pushed his chest and forced herself away. Gilbert chased her mouth, but sighed in resignation when she stuck a finger to his lips.

“Sorry, can’t help it,” he murmured. His breath was steam against her lips. “You just grow more beautiful by the day. Takes a lad off guard after a month.”

“Gilbert!” Anne chuckled, blushing.

“I’m serious! Exponential growth. I may have to start writing my will.”

“Stop,” reprimanded Anne, but her sweetheart knew she meant quite the opposite. “Where did you come from? You said you were coming tomorrow!”

“No silly, I said I was coming today . You were the one arriving home tomorrow. I even planned to pick you up tomorrow and surprise you.”

“Well, you’ve done that.” She froze. “Does that mean we were on the same train the entire time and didn’t know it!?”

“Probably,” Gilbert smiled, kissing her knuckles and earning a few doey-eyed looks from passing ladies. “We have nearly all month to make up for it. I was promised disguises and secret trysts.”

“So far, you’re getting the secret part all wrong,” a voice chimed in behind her. Gilbert rolled his eyes at Bash’s knowing smirk. “Say Anne, is this what Mr. Barry meant about public displays of affection?”

Anne tugged his hat clean over his eyes, making Gilbert laugh so loudly, someone beside him jumped.

“Alright lovebirds. Let’s fly on home to our separate nests.”

Christmas was a jubilant affair, the Cuthbert dinner table growing by two members for the third year in a row. When they realized that Hazel and Elijah filled the last available seats, Anne wondered who would stumble into their family this year and if they’d mind sitting at a separate table. With a child, a courting couple, and a spirit of song, the home was filled with endless moments of noise and joy.

But there were some quiet moments too. Anne and Gilbert particularly tried to find as many as they could together, but often found themselves interrupted by the baby, or by Bash’s halfway-intoxicated teasing. By the end of the night, Marilla had sensed her daughter’s frustration and taken her guests into the parlor where they could sit and converse. Anne stayed behind, tugging on Gilbert’s sleeve before he could walk away. He turned around, a happy smile on his face.

“Could you give me my Christmas present now?” asked Anne timidly. Gilbert’s face fell. His eyes focused on the cracks of the floorboards, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Anne’s disappointment.

“Love, I uh...I spent all my money on the ticket to come home. I don’t have anything for you, I’m sorry.”

But Anne shook her head, lifting his chin with a few fingers.

“I didn’t mean like that. You know I don’t mind if you don’t have anything for me.”

“Then what—?”

Anne revealed a small velvet pouch from behind her back. For a split second, Gilbert’s heart stopped, thinking that it was his mother’s ring she had found. For an even shorter moment, he realized if she had asked him to propose to her, he would’ve done it without hesitation and against his logical reasoning. There was a different swell in his heart when he realized that the bag didn’t contain a ring, but several scraps of paper.

“My letter,” he realized.

“What’s left of it, at least. Do you suppose you could piece it together?”

“I think so. I may not remember it verbatim, but the sentiment is impossible to forget.”

He spilled the torn pieces onto the floor, sorting out the words so he could see them all at once. Anne waited eagerly at his side, her hand finding its way to his hair as he began to piece the fragmented letter together. She tried not to read it as he strung sentences together, but couldn’t help but be drawn to the words affection and desire.

“You really did a number on this, didn’t you?” teased Gilbert when he found a few pieces with a stray letter or two, detached from its word.

“Whatever you did to mine must have been worse since it disappeared. ”

“Hey now,” protested Gilbert, smirking. “I can hardly be held accountable for something I never knew existed.”

“For all you know, it was on the bottom of your shoe, trekked into the mud and turned to mush.”

“Good thing it was short enough for you to remember it. I keep the second edition in my bedside drawer and read it before I go to sleep.”

“ Second edition ,” laughed Anne, leaning her head onto his shoulder. She turned her face to the fire and let her eyes fall close. Beneath her, Gilbert’s arm moved as he worked.

She didn’t realize she was dozing off until she heard, “Alright, Anne-girl. All finished.”

Rubbing the haze of sleep out of her eye, she peered down at the letter before her. It was pieced together like a puzzle with careful consideration with a few pieces from the sides missing. A quick surveyance of the writing told Anne that she’d still be able to read it, regardless of its inadequacies. With a steadying breath, Anne moved her eyes to the first line.

Dear Anne…

Gilbert pressed his lips to her cheek and rose to move into the other room.

“Where are you going?” asked Anne. Gilbert gave a small smile.

“I mean every word of that letter, but I’m still a bit embarrassed to watch you read it.”

“You write me love letters all the time.”

“But this is the love letter. The first. The ones I write you now are different because I’m well-practiced at it. But this one...It was my swan song, a last move of desperation.”

Anne bit back a smile at the rosy blush on his cheeks, anxious to finally see what all the fuss was about. Still, she mustered up some patience and reached out her hand to him.

“You don’t have to watch me read it, but stay by my side, will you?”

She didn’t have to ask twice.

“Alright.”

He settled beside her and took her hand in his, running his fingers over her knuckles and palm while she read. Anne, on her part, moved through the letter deliberately, letting every wash of emotion and reaction occur as it would. She’d forgotten that Gilbert had been longing like this, even during his involvement with Winifred. When the words became blurry with her tears, Anne read even slower and squeezed Gilbert’s hand in hers.

With love, Gilbert.

She read that line over and over, before glancing briefly at the postscript, then bringing herself back to the top. Gilbert was quiet beside her, letting her take the time she needed.

Anne’s heart was heavy, saturated with a million feelings she couldn’t quite place. She wanted to say that things would’ve been so different if she had read the letter when she’d found it in the first place, but what-if’s didn’t do her any good now. What mattered in this moment was the person beside her, whose heart seemed to beat in unison with hers. A person who was waiting very patiently for her reaction, even though it left him vulnerable and exposed.

Her palm found his face, and the second his hesitant eyes found hers, she kissed him slow and purposeful. She hoped that he could feel the years of longing she’d felt for him, the same way her letter had made her feel. She hoped it was electricity from the top of his head down to the soles of his feet, long and warm, unrelenting in its ensnarement.

When they broke apart, Anne gazed intently down at her hazel-eyed boy and counted the freckles around his nose. His heart was wide open on his sleeve, in his eyes, in his smile—beating and loving on full display without fear.

“I feel like I could take on the world just now,” Gilbert admitted blissfully.

“There’s two of us now,” noted Anne lovingly. “Let’s do it together.”

I hope you enjoyed! ♥ Thanks for reading!! Below are those individuals who asked to be tagged upon updates. If you’d like to add your name to the list or remove it, please let me know!

@pterparkcr @be-feminine-be-unique @firehaireddeamer @annabel-lee23 @beinmyheart @forcordelia @ladyofhousewaters @brookie-cookie3 @peculiarly-deactivated @mrs-shirley-cuthbert-blythe @lexfangirls @amoraeternusforyou @pastaismysignificantother @spellsandbells @instantknightartisanwagon @noctislightning @lonelyscreaming @lbhmoon @findurhappy @mynameisbluenotjane @sarahisatotalgeek @takemetoavonlea @shrillrule @doodlesfan @noctislightning @awaeforlife @neomikaha @cresmix @miacherries

#anne with an e #anne of green gables #shirbert #shirbert fic #tessa writes

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vegalocity · 4 years

Text

A Curse of Feathers and Mud

So y’all know how it’s implied that Eda was Stan’s Ex-Wife Marilyn? Well I was thinking some thoughts at work and was like ‘what if they stayed together’ So here we are

Ao3 link

Edalyn Clawthorne—or apparently as far as the human world was concerned, Marilyn Forrester—Was tired of the Boiling Isles and if she didn't still need to keep Elixirs on hand, she'd never return, throw the folding door and the key over a ravine and resign herself to never seeing her homeland again.

She'd had her curse for a little over a decade at this point, but had only recently learned the truth about it. A lump formed in the back of her throat at the memory of her Sisters shouting. Eda's bounty had just jumped another zero and Lilith had been 'lucky' to catch her while she was doing some self training on the Knee. And she... they'd gotten arguing and God-! She hadn't even SEEN Lilith since she'd ran from the Coven Ceremony!

And THAT was her pitch to try and get her in?! 'Hey I cursed you when you were fourteen! Come join this system you hate and could never be happy under and serve this tyrant that brainwashed everyone in the goddamn land to practically worship him so he can fix what I did to you so I don't have to do it and take responcibility for my actions! Everything will be fine!' Lilith was lucky she'd still been recovering from a curse flare up and she'd just ran, else she might not have been able to control herself.

She'd ran back to her cabin—she'd been considering making a House Demon for the place, but it would need to be more than two rooms before the demon would have enough space to thrive, Eda was a lot of things, but a neglectful demon owner was not one of them—packed a bag with some human clothes and an armful of her stash of Elixirs and left for the human world. She'd needed to get away and the furthest she could think of was the human world.

Which was, of course, how she'd met Hal.

It was just some stupid scheme of hers that ended up blending in nicely with a scheme of his own, the two of them had caught on to eachothers game and played off of eachother until they had enough to split a hot meal.

She did her best to seem as though she knew exactly what she was doing, and thankfully Dollars weren't too different in setup than Snails were. And she hadn't been overly hungry her gut still turning and churning from the previous day's discoveries, so she let Hal have most of the yellow salty sticks that came with the sandwich.

“So, what's your name?” He'd asked, a mouth full of tomato blood—well, not REALLY tomato blood, it was too viscous and salty, but it was the closest approximation she'd had at the time—and brown eyes flickering to her ears—thankfully still covered by her mountain of orange hair.

“Edalyn.” She'd answered easily. It's not like she was anybody in the Human world. Her name was only dangerous on the Boiling Isles.

“Marilyn...?” he fished, and Eda had been just about to correct him, before deciding against it. New world new her.

“Marilyn Blight.”

“Hal Forrester, nice to meet ya.”

So they'd ran some schemes together since it made it a little easier and eventually earned enough to hit the Casinos in town.

Maybe Hal was just lonely, in how quickly he'd taken to Eda, and maybe She was just desparate for the idea that she could actually do this, could actually run away to the human world and just drop back into the boiling isles when her Elixir runs dry. But eventually, high on adrenaline and the mutual sense of dispair, the two of them found themselves in a drive by chapel. He didn't have a ring for her, so He promised that that would be the first thing they got with their winnings once the stint in 'Vegas' was over.

Of course when they left Vegas it wasn't easily. The Goons for whatever powers controlled the human world in their screaming cars tearing across the road behind them, And for a moment, Eda was tempted to leave. To pull Owlbert from where she'd hidden him, take the Vegas winnings she had in her lap, and leave. Open the door while they were at this speed, say something snarky like 'I think we should see other people' and jump out, her staff there to catch her.

But if she did... where the hell would she even go? The Owl Lady had a hundred thousand snail bounty on the Boiling Isles, and she didn't want to return there unless either she HAD to, or she was READY to. And the last thing she wanted was the chance to somehow cross paths with her sister again. Eventually Belos would start actually sending agents out to find her, and knowing her Sister, Lilith would be the first to volunteer. And she was NOT ready for that yet.

“I have an idea, do NOT slow down.”

“Wasn't dreamin' of it, toots.”

Magic was harder here, this place didn't have magic pouring from its very core, it was a magic vacuum. Everything Eda made took almost twice as much magic as it would back hom- Back on the Boiling Isles. She'd probably need to chug an elixir a day earlier than normal. Damn things... She used to only need to take them once a month, but now it's come to a weekly basis. Maybe someday she'd have to guzzle the things like a morning apple blood.

Eda took a breath and drew a circle, the amber magic flashing only breifly before an Illusion was crafted, pulling away from them as the illusionary car stopped abruptly, the loud screech of tires against stone barely audible. The Goons behind them so startled as to not crash into their 'targets' not a one noticed the trickery for what it was.

Hal, for his part, didn't falter, she saw him startle slightly as he saw the illusion in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening and his hands scrambling over the steering wheel, but he kept his cool.

“What the hell was that?!” was the first thing out of his mouth when they'd crossed territories, into some place called 'Utah'.

Soooo maybe he didn't take it like a CHAMP, but he did take it.

Well, Eda was in it now. She had a fake name that was a wanted woman, she was in a marriage of convienence—Eda had always had a torrid romantic history but even she knew that this wasn't based in love, it was too soon, this was just mutual desperation for contact—with a human, and while she could return to Bonesbourough whenever she pleased, she found that, she still didn't want to.

“Edalyn is my real name, with an 'E'. Edalyn Clawthorne. Back home they call me the Owl Lady, I'm one of the most powerful witches on the Boiling Isles.”

And Hal had let out a nervous chuckle, Owlbert hopping down from Eda's staff and resting on his shoulder curiously. He took a deep breath and introduced himself as Stan Pines.

Though they both chose to keep the fake names for the next couple of states. A married couple looked better as an explination than just a pair of wandering people who decided to stick together after all.

Eda had barely realized a year had passed until she was on her... tenth run back to Bonesbourough for her next supply of Elixir, Stan had come with her—so long as he swore to keep the hood of his jacket up over his head so people wouldn't notice his ears—and ran her Human Curioscities stand for her as she did her business. And... okay, Stan was NOT a better salesman than she was, they were on pretty even footing, he'd simply grown up in the Human world while Eda had only been living there for a year. He knew more intimately how the curiosities worked so he knew how to better market them to others.

And HIS face wasn't the one on the wanted posters that she'd seen periodically around the marketplace. So the Conformatorium's Mooks left him alone.

When she came back, her newest crate of Elixir under her arm, over half of their stock had been cleared out, Stan humming a song about counting money to himself.

And you know... they weren't in love. Not really. Maybe on some level he was trying to replace that brother she'd heard him mention in passing with her. And maybe on some level she was just trying to prove to herself that her own sister hadn't ruined her life by making one of her own.

But they could maybe find a way to be happy. Just Maybe.

#I was talking about it on a discord group #and the best 'Why' we could come up with was #'Eda found out Lilith was the one that cursed her a lot earlier'#vega writes #The Owl House #Gravity falls #crossovers are neat #Edalyn Clawthorne #Eda Clawthorne #Eda the Owl Lady #Stanley Pines #Stan Pines #Staneda #I mean kinda? it's more of a pre ship thing #Stan Pines X Eda Clawthorne #Stan X Eda

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