missing-aria-blog - Tumblr blog

missing-aria-blog · 3 years ago

Text

Invisible Chapter 6: Force of Nature

((AN: Please come read the rest of the story and vote for it on Wattpad! The only reason I’m even back here writing this again is because of all of you. Your comments and votes are what brought me back after this awful year <3 ))

Force of Nature

AN: Spotify playlist for this story is https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7AdVvD3a9cgdHT7nU3nUaU?si=5d463875e1da4d10

—-----FLASHBACK—-----

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to join me in visiting our family’s tenants this time [Y/N]! My little girl really is growing up so fast,�� your father beams at you from the saddle of his horse as the two of you make your way down the well-maintained country road towards a picturesque farmstead in the distance.

You are 12 years old, riding next to your father on your own horse. The very horse who was the dame of Vale in fact, though it was still many years until your beloved companion would be born, “This is definitely more interesting than-” you give an exaggerated shudder, “-etiquette lessons with grandmother.”

Your father’s rich, deep laughter booms across the rolling plains, “You truly are your mother’s daughter. Your grandmother means well though. Those lessons might serve you well someday. They give you more options for your future.”

It was a long exhausted conversation, even at your young age. Girls in high society were expected to start attending socials, tea parties, balls, and more fairly early on. That way they would be prepared when it came time to enter the ‘marriage market’. The very thought made you want to gag. As your father said, you were your mother’s daughter, wild magic coursed through your veins. It was all you could do some days to keep yourself from fleeing into the woods in search of adventure. The thought of becoming the wife of some prince or lordling… well you didn’t need to have years of wisdom to know it wasn’t for you. Though at your age you didn’t think you’d ever want to get married. An idea that suited your father right down to the ground.

“Yes father,” you say instead.

His answering grin told you more than words that he knew what you’d left unsaid. Not for the first time you wonder how you were so lucky to have him in your life.

“Even if you marry a dung collector… or go live in the woods alone except for fifty cats… I will support you. Your grandmother does not decide your path, only you do.” He reached across the distance and patted your arm gently before pulling his horse to a halt. You’d arrived.

You pull your horse up next to your father’s, dismounting with the ease of someone who was practically growing up in the saddle. With a gentle pat on the mare’s neck you lead her to a nearby hitching post where she could get a drink of water after the short ride.

Your father was talking to the mistress of the farm, a young widow who was beautiful, even if she looked a bit tired and worn down. He’d handed his own reins off to a young lad who was headed your way. The boy seemed to be about your age, though clearly wasn’t paying you any mind. He was too busy eavesdropping on the adult’s conversation.

It wasn’t anything new for you. Your father had filled you in on the situation on the ride here. The young woman was a relatively recent widow with a son about your age, likely the boy who was now tying up your father’s mount. The boy’s parents were childhood friends of your father’s. They’d helped him keep an eye on his properties in this region in return for their own plot of farmland. Now the task fell to the boy’s mother alone, so your father came here for reports now instead of her coming to see him at the estate.

Your father waves you over and you dutifully make your way to stand by his side, “It’s been many years since you’ve seen my daughter [Y/N]. She’s decided to take an interest in the business side of things this year.” The twinkle in his eye was the only reference to the fact that your interest mostly came out of a desire to flee the estate.

The woman smiled at you, her eyes bright in spite of the weariness, “Of course I remember you. I was there at your birth you know!” She had a thick, warm French accent.

“My father has said as much,” you smile back at the woman, “He speaks very highly of you and your family.”

“Yes, well, I find it’s difficult these days to hold onto true friendships,” your father sighs, “How is your young man doing?”

The gangly, blond boy in question quickly came over before his mother could speak, “I am quite well sir.” He bows towards your father as the adults exchange an amused glance.

You were confused, why was he talking like that? His accent was the same as his mother’s but his words were clearly chosen with care even as his voice cracks a bit with the changes of puberty. As if he were trying to sound… noble? How strange.

“None of that lad!” Your father waved off the bow, “Your parents and I have known each other far too long for such formalities, and I am every bit as common as dirt myself.” It was true. While your father might be known as the “Merchant Prince”, he had been born a common farm boy without a speck of noble blood. A fact that your grandmother clearly tried to forget, “Jack my boy, I don’t believe you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting my own daughter. [Y/N]? Introduce yourself my dear.”

At his words you curtsey, or at least try to. The movement lacks the grace your grandmother was trying so hard to instil in you, “Nice to meet you Jack! I’m [Y/N].”

His blue eyes lift as he straightens from the bow and, for the first time, they meet your own. The boy freezes, his lips parted as if he’d been about to return the greeting. You can feel a tendril of your magic slowly reaching out to examine him. Just as the silence stretches to the point of awkwardness, Jack’s whole face turns bright red and he bolts in the opposite direction.

You don’t think. You don't look at your father, or Jack's mother, you barely even pause before chasing after him.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re 16, sitting under a willow tree, on a grassy hill somewhere halfway between your family’s estate and Jack’s farm. It was the informal meeting spot the two of you shared, though you were currently sitting there alone.

You smile, remember that day three years ago when the two of you had met. The day he’d run from you… and the day you’d caught him. The two of you had been practically inseparable ever since, best friends. He’d never explained why he’d run from you. You used to think it was because he’d somehow felt your magic, but he’d never shown any sign of knowing you had powers since.

With a sigh you fall back against the grass. Where was he? It wasn’t like him to be so late. But then, farm life was filled with so many unpredictable emergencies, so she should just relax and enjoy the rare moment of freedom.

The gentle summer breeze lulls you into a drowsy sort of half slumber, only to be interrupted by the familiar sounds of footsteps approaching from the direction of Jack’s farm. You crack open one eye, only to sit up suddenly. An involuntary gasp slips past your lips, “What happened to you!?”

Gingerly, he sits down on the grass next to you, wincing as he does so. He looks like he fell down about five flights of stairs, “You should see the other guys…” he tries to grin, but the expression pulls painfully at his split lip and he hisses.

Without conscious thought, your hands fly over his injuries, your magic assessing the damage. Bruises, the split lip, a cracked rib, bloody knuckles, and a swollen eye that will probably be black the coming morning, “How…?” the question hangs in the air.

“How else? The village boys were… talking. I took issue with their conversation and got involved.” He reached out and took one of your hands in his, “Do not worry about it. They really did get the worst of it. They are all townies, never lifted a hay bale in their lives. They wanted a fight and they got one. Next time they shall think the better of it.”

It was more than that. Jack had always been good in a fight. A boy without a father in the countryside needed to be. There was always someone who thought they could take advantage of a widow living alone with her young son. According to your father, Jack’s father had always been ‘scrappy’ in a fight as well. People let themselves be deceived by appearances, and never knew their mistake until it was too late. Normally though, Jack didn’t come out of such scraps so poorly. Just how many boys had he taken on this time?

“Are you going to tell me what they said that infuriated you so much?” you try to subtly let your power reach out and heal his hurts, but he pulls hands away from him with another wince.

“The grocer’s son thinks he is something special, just because his father owns the biggest house in town. He… wanted me to stop talking to you. He thought a dozen or so of his friends could help persuade me.” He tried to appear nonchalant about the whole thing, he even managed a shrug, but his gaze flicked away from yours.

“...And?” You keep your own eyes locked on him. You were best friends, you weren’t about to let him get away with anything less than the whole truth.

“And… He says I am ruining your reputation. That if you are willing to dally with a… bastard farm boy… Maybe he could have a go.” You could see his neck flushing even though he was still firmly facing away from you. The fury in his voice was clearly evident. His skinned knuckles blanched white from the tension of holding them into fists.

“Jack…” you reach out once more, not letting him pull away as you place your hand over one of his fists, “They’re stupid. You know better than anyone save my parents that I’m never going to be a proper lady. I don’t care what any of them think. I only care what you think.”

He sighs, “I think you might change your mind someday about that mademoiselle. I do not wish for you to eliminate future chances with someone like me.” Jack turns to look at you, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears, “I want you to have everything. And I do not wish to be the thing that keeps you from that.”

“Mmmm…” you try your best to look thoughtful, as if there were any truth to those words. You press the fingers of your free hand against his temple, “Those morons must have hit you harder than I thought. You’re speaking complete nonsense, obviously your brains have been scrambled.”

He rolls his eyes, or tries to anyway, “I am serious [Y/N]. You can do better than me for a friend. Just because our parents-”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he winces a bit at your unladylike choice of words, “ about our parents! For that matter, my parents don’t care who you are, they only care that you’re a good friend to me. They want me to live my life in the way that I choose. And I choose you!”

“You cannot mean tha-” You cut him off, practically seething now, “Jack, don't you dare tell me what I mean and what I don’t!”

“You do not mean that the way-” this time he cuts himself off. You can feel him tremble with the effort of holding back beneath your fingertips. He bites his lip, apparently not caring if it hurts.

You didn’t need him to finish. You knew what he left unsaid. ‘The way that I do.’ The two of you have been the best of friends for years. But you’d also been growing closer that whole time. Your magic had drawn you towards him from the moment your eyes had met four years ago. But it took your heart some time to catch up. Both of you had been too young. It had been obvious for a while now that Jack’s own feelings had shifted, you’d only been waiting for him to admit as much.

“You’re an idiot Jack.” Before he realizes what you’re doing, you lean forward and press your lips to his. Power pours from you and into him at the contact, coursing through his body and healing his various injuries and then some. You didn’t really have complete control of your magic at the moment, and it has always worked best through kisses.

For a moment, the only sign that he is aware of what is happening is the immediate relaxation of the tension in his body. Then both of his hands reach up to cup your cheeks, and he takes control of the kiss.

All you can think of is a singular word… Finally.

#fanfic #fan fiction #red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #red shoes and the seven dwarfs #red shoes and the seven dwarfs jack #red shoes #jack x reader #wattpad #love story

14 notes · View notes

missing-aria-blog · 4 years ago

Text

“Invisible” Chapter 2: Stand in the Light

A year has passed since that night when your life changed forever. You fled the city of your birth and never looked back. You now lead a quiet life as a healer’s apprentice in a town far from your home. The prince of this region is a bit… odd, but his people were more or less happy and Prince Average had never met you so there was no chance he’d recognize you if you were to see him in the streets.

You lived in the attic above the shop that your teacher, Mistress Grey, ran. She hadn’t asked too many questions when you’d answered her help wanted sign. Your knowledge of herbs and slaves had been more than enough for her to take you on as an apprentice and the work suited you. You’d been getting on well enough that she largely left the general business of making remedies to you these days. Her daughter ran the shop below and was kind to you, even if she had no healing gift herself. She knew the stock and that was all that she really needed.

You step out onto the rooftop terrace where your herb garden thrives. Your assortment of healing herbs and flowers was probably half the reason your teacher had taken you on so easily. You smile as you trail your fingertips over the leaves and petals around you, each plant seeming to twine briefly around your hand as you pass over it. Pulses of joy and contentment at the morning sun’s rays filtered through their touch and into your mind. Good, you could enjoy your day off to its fullest.

Today was the last day of the local festival and your teacher had given you leave to enjoy the celebration. She was to depart the next morning to buy some of the rarer materials needed in the practice’s medicines, so you needed to enjoy the time off while you had it. She’d offered to bring you with her, but this particular trip would go a bit too close to your hometown for comfort.

Even in the short time you’d been with Mistress Grey you’d been able to travel all over the continent. She’d even taken you to the ocean! That had been a fun trip and she’d taught you all sorts of medicinal uses for various seaweeds. You’d miss her while she was gone this time. Her daughter, Marina, was your age though and was excellent company.

You left the terrace, closing the doors behind you before going to examine yourself in the mirror. Your hair was done up in a braided crown, silk flowers woven into it in hues of pink and white. Your green dress was well suited to the spring festivities and beautiful weather.

Taking your light cloak off of the hook by the door you make your way downstairs. Marina is packing jars of salves and pouches of dried herbs into a large basket, probably to bring out to the stall set up in front of the shop for the festival. She looks up and smiles at you as you peer into the basket.

“Are you sure you have enough for today?” you ask as you notice certain cures are looking a bit low, namely the hangover teas. Not surprising given the parties that went on during festivals.

Marina playfully rolls her eyes at you, “Yes of course! Mother is already working on packaging up what you two made yesterday. Go enjoy yourself. I saw the baker putting out some of those croissants you love so much. If you hurry you’ll catch them while they’re still warm.”

“Fine fine. But you will let me know if you need me, yes?” you pull a necklace out from the front of your dress. It’s a simple leather cord with what looks to be a plain white adder stone hanging from it. There was magic in the rock. If Marina or her mother activated their own stones it would let you know to return to the shop post haste. They’d been a pricey bit of magic, but completely necessary when emergency patients came through the door.

“You know I will,” Marina made a shooing gesture with her free hand, “Now leave before I tell mother that you need a whole WEEK off.”

You gasp in mock horror before giving her a quick hug and heading out the front door.

It was still a bit early and most of the stalls were only just finishing their set-ups, but the baker was already quite busy. Even so, he spotted you and waved you past the crowd, “I set one aside special for you my dear. You really helped me out of a bind with those herbs. I really thought we’d ordered enough but that boy must have counted our stock wrong.”

“Don’t be too harsh on him, he is your grandson after all,” you smile as you gratefully accept the offered croissant swirled with pink strawberry jelly, “He’ll get the hang of it.”

The baker sniffs but it’s obvious he isn’t actually mad about the situation. Just putting on a face, “Well, either way, keep me in mind if you ever have a surplus in the future. I don’t know how you grow such flavorful stock but you truly have a gift.” “I will! Thank you for the breakfast!” You wave and duck out of the way of the hungry crowd.

You munch on the pastry as you wander through the stalls, stopping here and there to browse and occasionally purchase items to be delivered to the shop later on. There are dancers, musicians, and other artists displaying their talents for everyone to witness and you stop here and there to watch and listen, your body swaying gently to the music.

As the day goes on the town square begins getting set up for the evening musical performances and the dance that will likely last until the wee hours of the morning. Multicolor paper lanterns are strung from cords above the square and lit with care. Vendors sell the springbell flowers that are the icon of this particular festival. It’s tradition to buy one to give to those you hold great affection for. A symbol of the hope that your bond will grow in the year to come. The flower is one that can sprout roots from its stem when tended with care, and it’s considered good luck if the flower you’re gifted with thrives under your care.

You stop at one of the carts, “Two please,” you reach into your belt pouch and pull out the required coins, handing them to the seller as she hands you back three of the blooms, “Oh, you gave me an extra one…” The woman shakes her head, “It’s the same price for three as it is for two. We had a good harvest this year. Thanks for that fertilizer by the way. It worked like magic!” “I’m glad! Let me know if you need more.” you carefully tuck the blooms away in a hardshell leather pouch, making sure the stems are properly wrapped before closing them up safely inside.

As you turn back towards the town square you hear shouting coming from one of the alleyways. Out of curiosity you make your way towards the sound. Whomever is making the noise is clearly moving away from the main street but you can still make out some words. ‘Hand it over’ stands out in particular. You hurry after the retreating sounds, reaching out with your inner magic to feel for the roots under the paving stones and the vines crawling up walls.

The alleyway makes a sharp turn behind a shop that’s closed for the festival, which would explain how no one else had noticed this happening in what was a mostly safe town. You press yourself against the wall before peeking around the corner. You see two men, clearly not locals, standing over something, or rather… someone. You can’t see whomever they’re harassing, but it clearly isn’t a friendly encounter.

“I can tell by your clothes that you’ve got money dwarf, so hand it over and we’ll let you go without TOO much damage.” the man’s companion chuckles darkly as he flips a knife in the air.

“Ah yes well, you see there’s the problem,” the responding voice is heavily accented, but speaks with a distinctly calm air. You aren’t sure if it’s confidence or stupidity, but either way you can’t stand idly by.

“Hey!” you shout as you step out from behind the corner. You can feel the magic in the earth below you responding to your anger. How dare these thugs try to ruin someone’s day like this! Your attention is locked on the two who whirl to face you, so you don’t really see who they were threatening before said person seems to blink out of existence. A fellow magic user? Well that would explain why he hadn’t seemed concerned. Of course that left you with two very tall, very buff thieves to deal with on your own.

They both narrow their eyes, then sly gins split their faces as they realize they’re dealing with a single, if a bit angry looking, girl.

“Well well, what do we have here?” the knife flipper takes a step towards you.

“You lost us our payday girlie…” the other growls, “You should have just kept going.” “Maybe so,” You can feel the roots under their feet pushing at the flagstones, “But maybe you two just picked the wrong town.”

You’re about to call the roots up to tangle their legs when a barrel lid comes flying out of nowhere, braining the knife guy upside the head. The other turns, confused, just in time for an invisible something to come crashing into his nose, causing blood to spray as it breaks. He sears as he looks around in a panic. His eyes land on you, “W-witch!”

You probably look just as confused as he does, “That wasn’t me...” You gather yourself and smile at the guy, “Looks like you’ve ticked off the town’s guardian spirit.” The lie rolls smoothly off of your tongue, you father was a master merchant after all. You knew your fair share of fast talking.

“G-guardian spirit? You’re lying!” he tries to help his dazed companion back to his feet with one arm while his other hand covers his bleeding nose.

“Well, I could be. But then, if I’m lying then you’re right and I’m a witch that you just pissed off,” you shrug, “Either way, I’d say you’re screwed.”

The man’s eyes widen, “You’ll regret this!” he drags his friend along with him as he flees into the surrounding woods.

“Doubtful,” you mutter as he disappears from sight. You send energy down the connected lifeforce of the woods, urging the very forest itself to trip up and otherwise hinder the thugs, lending credence to the claim of a ‘guardian spirit’. When you’re sure that they aren’t coming back you scan the alleyway, “Hello…?”

Silence greets you for a long while, then that accented voice answers you, “Merci mademoiselle, for the rescue.” ------------------------------------------------------ Fanfic “Invisible” is available to read on Wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/story/259956086-invisible-jack-x-reader

#red shoes #red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #red shoes and the seven dwarfs #jack #reader #jack x reader #romance #fanfic #fan fiction #story

18 notes · View notes