#Both my mother and father scolded me for my desire to speed

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

You know what? The kids at my college may not have known how to drive but at least they drove fast (let's ignore the fact that this was a big part of the problem). The people in my hometown? Slow as shit. I have been here two weeks and I have illegally passed two people already because they are so fucking SLOW. Never done that before in my life. They drive like they were raised by police officers. I'm begging you to put your foot on the gas. The pedal can take it, I prommy. I fucking prommy. Jesus fucking christ.

[phoebeioelaraa]

The Tales of a Lost Prince and a Forgotten Daughter.

Chapter I. The Hogwarts Express

(note: hey everyone! I thought I could post my fic here too. You can read it too on AO3 or the Spanish version on Wattpad, under the same title and username!)

Summary: On the morning of September 1st, Cassiopeia Black is filled with excitement as she prepares for her long-awaited journey to Hogwarts. As the train speeds towards the castle, Cassiopeia finds herself drawn into unexpected conversations that will mark the beginning of her magical journey.

Nine o’clock in the morning. Cassiopeia Black revised for the last time that day the green emerald vault her parents had gifted her, looking that all the clothes and books stored there were in order. Today was the big day, September 1st. She spent all summer excited about finally attending Hogwarts and even though she had visited Diagon Alley multiple times before, this time felt different when she needed to buy her books. It was as if her heart knew about all the great things that were awaiting. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by her little brother, Regulus, who entered her room without knocking. 

“Mother desires to speak to you and Sirius downstairs, she’s waiting for you in the living”

Regulus not knocking couldn’t bring her humour down. She was finally attending Hogwarts today and that was all that mattered. 

She ran down the stairs and arrived at the living, where Sirius and her mother waited for her, sitting in one of the large sofas. 

“How many times do you need to be reminded that you are a lady and need to behave as such?” Her mother, Walburga, reprimanded her. Sirius stared at the floor, visibly uncomfortable. “And not just any lady, you’re a Black, Cassiopeia, have a bit of decency”. Cassiopeia nodded without looking at her mother, she sat next to Sirius, in front of her mother, as she indicated with a look. 

Walburga was an upright woman. Black hair, fair skin and blue eyes as those of her three children although they didn’t hold the same sparkle as her childrens. 

“In a while” continued Walburga “we’ll be leaving to King’s Cross and I want you two to behave, especially you, Sirius. You ought to understand that you are heir to the noble house of Black and that you must behave the same way at Hogwarts, do you understand?”

She spoke severely, as so that even after hearing the same tone all her life, Cassiopeia still couldn’t get used to it. Sirius nodded silently. 

“And you, Cassiopeia” Walburga looked at her daughter and she raised her head, finding her mother’s eyes “I expect you to understand that you are a woman and that is how you should behave. I trust you will follow your cousins Bella and Cissy’s example and that you’ll wear your last name with pride”.  The woman withdrew her eyes, clearly omitted Elena, the youngest of Cass’ cousins, and continued. “It is fundamental that the both of you wear your last name with pride. Salazar Slytherin will be proud of holding you in his house, just as your father and I. Understood?” 

Both kids nodded. Sirius still locking eyes with the floor, probably thinking of something else, just as Cassiopeia. 

“Now” the twins looked at their mother, the same severe expression on her face “give me a hug the both of you, I’m going to miss you dearly” 

Cassiopeia smiled and ran to her mother’s arms, feeling the impact of Sirius doing the same just some seconds later. She would definitely miss her mother, despite the constant scolding she gave her. She’d also miss her father and how he sat her on his knees when he arrived from work and would read to her. She’d miss Reggie terribly too, but still, the excitement about Hogwarts was bigger. 

They apparated at King’s Cross around 10:30 in the morning, just half an hour before the Express left, but before that, they had to find a seat and, obviously, say their farewells. Without any intentions of listening again to the Noble House of Black’s speech that her parents thoroughly repeated, she ran straight to the train before her mother could catch her. She found  an empty compartment for her and her brother although she suddenly regretted boarding the train by herself as she did not have the required strength to keep carrying her vault. 

“Need any help?” Cassiopeia looked to the hallway, where a guy was standing right beside the door. It was Lucius, a boy older than her, that she knew due to their families holding several dinners together although he usually would keep to himself or to chat with Cissy and Bella. 

“Oh, hi, Lucius. Yes, I do need help”. She smiled sheepishly, feeling a slight warm temperature on her cheeks. Lucius was a very handsome boy, blonde and of good bearing. Surely the kind of guy that her mother would wish for Cass to marry, but there wasn’t a chance. She was sure there was something going on between him and Cissy. 

“I saw your mom and Sirius at the platform, I supposed you’d boarded already”

Lucius lifted the vault with the help of his wand. Cass felt dumb after realizing how easy that could have been, though she knew she couldn’t use magic yet. “Are you nervous?” He asked. 

“Actually, quite the opposite” She smiled. “Is Hogwarts great?” 

Lucius laughed. “It is, though you got to beware of who you befriend. Wouldn’t want to mess with mudbloods, would you?”

Cass smiled sheepishly and nodded. She didn’t really understand all the fuss about purebloods and mudbloods but what she knew was that she missed her cousin Andromeda, she had been banished from the family when she married one of the latter. 

“I thought so” replied Lucius. “See you later, little one, I have prefect duties to perform”.

Cass sat down as Lucius left and, almost immediately, a redheaded girl arrived. 

“Hello, may I sit here?” The girl’s eyes were red and swollen, as if she had been crying, but Cass supposed it was due to the departure. She only nodded and the girl sat next to the window, separated from Cass who was sitting on the opposite side, next to the door. Some minutes later Sirius arrived, with the company of a messy black haired boy and glasses. 

“Do you mind if my friend sits with us?” Asked Sirius. She had never met the boy and was confused when Sirius called him a friend. 

“Who's that?” Asked Cass.

“Oh, just a friend i just met, his name is James” 

James then smiled widely and offered his hand to shake. Cassiopeia took the hand and smiled too. 

“Potter, James Potter, that is. Very nice to meet you” 

Potter, he said? She had heard her mom talk several times with auntie Druella about how the Potters were fouling their pureblood status by messing with half bloods and mudbloods. But her mother wouldn’t know who she hanged out with at Hogwarts, right?

“I am Cassiopeia Elara Black. Nice to meet you too” Both kids finally sat down. Sirius next to his sister and James in front of them, two spaces next to the redhead. 

“Is she your friend?” Asked Sirius in a whisper. Cassiopeia replied “no” in the same way. “I suppose she misses her parents or something” she continued. James surely listened as he introduced himself to the girl. 

“Hey, what’s your name? I’m James, everything alright?” 

The girl turned to him and smiled sheepishly, wiping her tears away with the back of her hands. 

“I’m Lily, Lily Evans. Nice to meet you.” She turned her sight to the window again and kept herself quiet for the rest of the ride. The other three kids decided to just talk between them.

“Well, I really like to play Quidditch and my dad thinks I’m quite the seeker.” James went on. “I’d wish they’d let the first years play, though. It’s not fair that I have to wait a year for a trial, "he complained. Cass thought he sounded spoiled. 

“I really prefer Exploding Snap” said Cass.”Sirius, Reggie, our little brother, and I play it all the time. Sometimes, my cousin Elena joins us too, but only when our aunt and uncle visit�� And if I tried for something I think I'd probably audition for the frog choir, although my cousin Cissy said they’re gross, but that’s just because she’s delicate.” Cassiopeia raised her head, nose in the air and batted her eyelashes, imitating Cissy. James and Sirius laughed. 

Suddenly, a kid that looked like he was lost entered the compartment without saying hi or even looking at them. He sat in front of Lily, next to Sirius. 

He had a strange look that, however, Cass got interested in. His hair was as black as hers and Sirius’, but his eyes were almost as black. His skin was even paler than hers, probably a reason why he looked malnourished, and had a somewhat large nose. She thought that was interesting. James and Sirius kept on talking, she got interested in the boy and Lily, who simply noticed him and returned her sight to the window. 

“I don’t want to talk to you” She said in a low but constricted voice. “Why not?” asked the boy. 

“Tuney h-hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore” 

Cass wondered who Tuney was. She turned her look to James and Sirius, pretending not to hear them. 

“So what?” 

“So she’s my sister!” Lily’s voice raised a tone. Cass restrained herself from looking at her. 

“She’s only a —” He caught himself, was he going to say mudblood? Cass felt weird thinking about that word. If Lily’s sister was one, that meant Lily was one too. But she seemed so different to what her parents had said about mud-, well, about them. 

“But we’re going!” he said with excitement. “This is it! We’re off to Hogwarts!”

Cass peeked at Lily. She was half smiling. 

“You’d better be in Slytherin.” said the boy. James then got into their conversation. 

“Slytherin? Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” he referred to Sirius and Cass with a playful look.

“Our whole family has been in Slytherin” replied Sirius without a smile. 

“Blimey,” said James, Cassiopeia had a frown on her face, “and I thought you seemed all right!” 

She was about to respond but Sirius then spoke. 

“Maybe I’ll break the tradition.” He said with a grin. Cass looked at him with a confused look. “Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?

James lifted an invisible sword. Cass was wary of liking him at first, now she knew that she definitely didn’t like him. 

“Gryffindor,” replied James “where dwell the brave at heart! Like my dad.” 

Cass heard the strange boy making a small, disparaging noise. James turned on him.

“Got a problem with that?”

“No,” said the boy with a slight sneer “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy —”

As Cass smirked, Sirius interrupted 

“Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as you’re neither?” Cass made a frown again as her brother spoke. Lily then stood up, looking at James and Sirius in disdain. 

“Come on, Severus, let’s find another compartment” 

James and Sirius imitated her voice and James tried to trip the boy, apparently Severus, as he passed. “See ya, Snivellus” he said. 

The compartment door was slammed and Cassiopeia stayed there, quite displeased with the boys demeanour as they laughed. 

“What on Merlin’s beard is wrong with you?” she reprimanded. “You don’t even know those two, why did you need to behave like that?” 

They stopped laughing. “What? You’re siding with that Snivellus?” laughed Sirius. Cassipeia only muttered “unbelievable” and left without saying another word, looking for Lily and Severus. She had to at least say sorry on behalf of her brother and James. She found them at a compartment where only the both of them were sitted and she knocked on the door before entering. 

“Uh, hi” she looked at both kids without any idea of what to say. “I just wanted to say sorry for what happened back there. Sirius tends to behave weirdly sometimes, mother always says so”.

They looked at her without understanding. 

“My brother” she stated “The one with the blue eyes? I just wanted to say sorry” 

Lily smiled softly and asked her to sit next to her. She did. 

“It wasn’t your fault. Although your brother’s a chump. No offense.” 

“None taken” Cass laughed “You’re Lily, right?” Lily nodded. “My name is Cassiopeia Elara Black —-”

“Do you always use your full name to introduce yourself?” interrupted Severus with what seemed like a slight irritation, he seemed surprised about the way he spoke, though. 

Cass shrugged. “Father says it’s essential if I want to make a good impression. What’s your name, anyway?” 

He folded his arms in front of him as he looked out of the window. “Severus Snape” 

Cass wanted to be civil so she offered her hand to shake and he obliged after what seemed too long. 

Neither of them had an idea of what that handshake would lead them to. 

[liam-cadmus]

The clouds are no where to be seen against the dark blue sky, the stars and moon contrasting in a different color. Various shades  ranging from light blue to dark indigo blends together under the streetlights of the compound, the Uchiha insignia stitched to their backs. A faint light glows from the main house, four faint shadows seen through the shoji doors, silent against the bustling noise of children and adults hurrying to come home. The air in the dining room is tense, no tinkling laughs from the youngest nor the fond scolding of the mother to her sons’ mischievousness.  Mikoto Uchiha takes another bowl of miso soup to give her youngest, as Itachi’s chopsticks holds on to a piece of seared fish, Fugaku gulping down water. Sasuke thanks his mother for the bowl before leaning forwards, listening intently to his father’s story. “You need to avoid falling for a Uzumaki or a Nara,” Fugaku murmurs gently to his youngest, as Mikoto smiles. His big dark grey doe eyes stare at them, attention captivated and memorizing every word they spout. Silence descends on the table as he collects his bearings. He knows, that his parents married out of duty, for the clan. He was able to hear it when he passed Daisuke-oji in the clan market, making him question his parents. He later asked his parents, prompting them to explain the arranged marriage, the clan needing an appropriate wife for the clan heir, later on deciding on Mikoto. She would tell them how she missed doing missions, and his father telling stories about their battles as teens. Sasuke was angry at first, knowing that his parents didn’t marry out of love, but the more time he spent to wrap it around his head, made it easier to understand. His brother is always there to clarify it, and they would ask their parents if Itachi can’t explain. They always reassure them, that despite being in an arranged marriage, it doesn’t change the fact they both love them with their whole hearts. His parents try to be subtle in front of him, but he knows. Being an Uchiha makes it impossible to not see their longing gazes, their schooled features masking their pining, their desire to be with their true lovers. They don’t regret having them, always trying their best to shower them with love, that he appreciates. ‘I couldn’t love Fugaku at first. But I learned how, even if I like girls.’ Mikoto smiles at him, ‘Fugaku found a way to be the only exception, he became dear to my heart to the point that it would break my heart if I lose him.’ Despite being the second-born, he’s a prodigy in his own right, sharp senses and lightning fast reflexes. He can see his mother’s discreet glances when they walk through the village’s streets, always trailing after the bright red hair of his aunt Kushina. ‘I love her,’ she once murmured when she was tucking him to bed, his six-year-old brain not yet aware that she’s hinting at the hot-blooded jinchuuriki. The powerful kunoichi was able to take his mother’s heart, with her bright smiles and fierce personality, while his mother aches for hers.   His father, even if he rarely accompanies him, was too obvious for him to figure out. His eyes would soften when he sees Shikaku-san, his frowns lessening and replaced with faint smiles, his cold and distant expression disappearing. ‘Clan heirs rarely get to marry another, after all, they are there to serve for the best of their clan.’ He follows his father’s gaze, seated beside him on the porch as the sun sets, ‘It’s hard to oppose the clan for your own desire. Clan heirships can be passed to the second-born, although, Itachi already took it. So promise me Sasuke, fight for whoever you fall in love with.’ He stares at his parents grim expressions in front of him, the names Shikamaru and Naruto unspoken, their gazes heavy on his shoulders. He breathes out heavily before nodding. “I’ll try not to.” he ducks his head, as Mikoto sighs at him, before deft fingers ruffle his hair. “You don’t have to force yourself not to. As long as you try.”  They’re only looking out for him, Naruto being the only heir of Uzumaki and Shikamaru as the only child of the Clan Head.  Mikoto claps her hands, before Itachi huffs in amusement, as they start cleaning the table. He wanders to his mother’s side, helping her with the dishes, earning him a fond laugh. Fugaku rolls his eyes before leaning on the doorway of the kitchen, watching the matriarch piles the plates on the sink as Itachi and Sasuke splashes each other with suds and water.  He was 8 years old when his cousin was rescued by Tsume Inuzuka in the river barely breathing, one of his sockets empty.  He was turning 9 when he arrives in their house with his parents were killed in front of his eyes, his Sharingan activating in his horror, the vision being imprinted in his mind with clarity, while his vision blurs with tears. He screams when his parents drop dead in front of him as the hooded figure runs out the window, scrambling to keep his parents alive. He cauterizes their wounds, trying to stall their death as his hands get covered in his parents’ blood. His chakra spiked hard, being sensed throughout the village as Itachi runs full-speed to the compound, Kakashi on his tail as they both sensed the abrupt spike. It was two weeks before his birthday when he is looking blankly at the white wall in front of him, dried blood flaking off his fingers as Itachi paces in front of them, his masked ANBU teammates murmuring faintly by the door. He doesn’t spare a glance when the door opens in haste as he stares intently at the sparkling marble of the floor, the memory repeatedly showing up in the forefront of his mind.  His brother was unapproachable, jumbled thoughts and distracted, while he’s detached, unresponsive as Minato shakes him out of his stupor, worried blue eyes staring back at him. “Sasuke, calm down, deep breaths. Focus on my breaths.” he follows his uncle’s breathing, the exaggerated breaths and counting making it easier to follow, as Kushina wipes off the blood on his trembling hands. He leans back on the chair, trying to calm down his pounding heart, as Kushina soothes him, kissing his temple. Itachi is being held by Hound, his brother still against the arms wrapped around his shoulders. Kushina tucks his head under her chin as she rubs his back, the Uchiha in her lap feeling numb. Shikaku burst open the doors as the medical-nin walks out with a grim expression, “We tried to stabilize and resuscitate. Unfortunately, they have passed away.”  Sasuke’s blood runs cold, as he chokes on a breath, staring down on his shaking hands. Itachi falters, staggering to his brother as Sasuke climbs on his lap, crying. He schools hisi features to hide his grief while he comforts his brother, burying his tear-stricken face in his Sasuke’s unruly hair.  He was nine-years-old when he blows bright red flames beside Itachi on the pyre, clouded onyx eyes watching the flickering flame. He doesn’t have anymore tears to shed as clan members kneel around them, making him lean on his brother on support as they let their hands drop, standing there until the flames turns to ember. “You need to avoid falling for a Uzumaki or a Nara.” he distantly remembers as he walks alongside Itachi back to the house, ignoring their sopping wet clothes. Sasuke links his fingers under his chin, averting his eyes to the window to hide his pained eyes. His knuckles turn white as he senses two males settle beside him, staying quiet and reserved as Naruto talks loudly with Shikamaru, watching them from the corner of his eyes. He hides the twitch of his lips as Naruto plans the prank on their sensei, Shikamaru scolding the blond for even attempting the ridiculous idea.  The door opens, making him glance at it tiredly, only to see Kakashi. He clenches his eyes shut, before following them out the door. You need to avoid falling for a Uzumaki or a Nara. He chuckles deprecatingly, hopefully it doesn’t resort to that. Part 2 of this AU Part 3 of this AU

[m-y-fandoms]

Korekiyo Shinguuji x reader fluff

Request: Hello!! ✨ Can i request something fluffy with Korekiyo (it would be nice if it would be with his pregame version (but original is okay, too))? Maybe he's having a sleepover with reader? Thank you in advance ✨ I really like your writing. Your oneshots and imagines make my day!!

Okay I’m gonna de pregame Korekiyo like you asked! So just a tall, lanky, beautiful man with a face mask. No incest and lipstick or killing game lmao. Also I’ll make him interested in anthropology but not the Ultimate/SHSL - Admin Kokichi

     “Are you sure? I really don’t want to impose…” your best friend, Korekiyo Shinguuji, stares at you from behind his black dust mask with a concerned gaze. His brows are furrowed deeply in the center.

     Korekiyo had gotten into a fight last night with his legal guardian, his older sister. Apparently, it had been a nasty one, unlike anything that’s happened between them before. It gotten so bad that she kicked him out of the house, with no word of when he would be allowed back in.

     “Yeah, of course, Kiyo! We are buds right? You’re my bestie! I can’t let my bestie just spend the. night alone in some hotel or sleep out in the street, now can I?”

     “But Y/N-”

     “Would you let me go sleep in the street if it were me?”

     “No, I suppose not, but-”

     “Then any argument you have in invalid. Case closed!” You closed your notebook on your desk haughtily as if to signify the end of the conversation. Korekiyo sighed, a slight blush on his cheeks as he placed his head down on his desk with anxiety.

     “You’re sure your parents are okay with it?” He mumbled, his black hair cascading down his back and shoulders and splaying out around his desk.

     “Well…”

     “Y/N…” he warned, scolding you like a mad mother.

     “They will be out of town this entire week. My dad always travels for work and my bitch of a stepmother has to stay attached to his hip like a leech at all times so-”

     “Then me staying over seems highly inappropriate. I’m sure your father would-”

      “Don’t make me guilt you into coming over. You’re my friend. You’re in need, and I love spending time with you! Please?” You reached over and pulled on the sleeve of his exorbitantly-priced sweater with eyes wide like a puppy dog.

     “You win this time, Y/N, but if your father finds out and becomes hostile toward me, I’m going to blame you…” he joked breathily, shaking his head at his stubborn best friend. He couldn’t help but give into your every want and desire, and you often pulled him into your schemes and plans. Well...he called them schemes, but he was just a goody-two-shoes, so anything not morally immaculate or life-enriching was considered foolish to him.

     “Then it’s settled.” You nearly squealed. You’d been waiting forever to have him over to your house, but he’d always declined. You’d known him for about a year, and still your humble abode had remained a mystery to him. He lived with his older sister who took care of him after their parents died, and she was extremely strict with him. He was never allowed to come over after school. You’d been to his place once or twice, but always with supervision and strictly for studying or some other educational activity. If you wanted to spend time after school, he had to lie to her about where he was going and why. Finally, you’d have your crush, your best friend over to your home.

     You had to admit to yourself, you did feel a little guilty about the whole situation. You were inviting him over for mainly selfish reasons. Yes, he was your best friend and you’d never let him go without a place to stay, but there was a large part of you that just wanted the boy you liked alone and to yourself for a night or...maybe two, if this first sleepover went well. Unfortunately though, your crush on him weighed heavily on you. You felt horrible for keeping this secret of your feelings from him, because he trusted you with everything. You were so scared that letting him know that you wanted to be more than friends would ruin the close bond you two had. Yeah...it would be way too awkward to remain friends afterward if he rejected your feelings.

~

     You both were let out after the last class of the day. Korekiyo walked you back home every single day since you’d become friends. At first, you found it a bit embarrassing, seeing as he was one of the kids from the rich neighborhoods around your school and you lived in a middle-class suburb a bit further away. Your fears about your class-difference with your best friend quickly faded as you got to know him. It became clear within weeks of hanging out that he would never judge you based on financial status, whether you lived in a trailer or a palace. That was just one of the many things you loved about him. And boy could you list a bunch…

     He was intelligent, a straight-A student and teacher’s pet. He had endless wisdom and knowledge of both practical things and useless trivia. He gave the best advice, and was so passionate about both his hobbies and yours. You could talk with him forever without the topic getting dry.

     His looks only enamored you to him further. He was tall and slender, with a perfectly built frame. Unlike your peers, he never got acne, and his complexion was pore-less and smooth like marble. He was pale, and his eyes stood out like flecks of gold against an ivory surface. His hair was healthier and more majestic than any female you knew. It was long, all the way down his back, and was the deepest, darkest shade of black with delicate bangs that fell across his forehead. He was absolutely gorgeous, but for some reason he still had self-esteem issues. For this reason, he always wore a dust mask over his mouth and nose that concealed his entire lower face. You could never understand why. Everyone at school either liked him or was jealous of him, and he had nothing to hide from anyone.

     He tried to lie to you at first, stating that he had a weaker constitution and because of frequent illness and hospital visits, his sister made him wear it, but once you got closer, he admitted he liked hiding his face and it made him feel comfortable. He customized his masks, or commissioned them to be specially made, having embroidery on them or patchwork and sometimes shelling out for the more expensive leather or designer masks...which you didn’t even know existed until you met him.

     You’d tried to convince him multiple times that he was beautiful and had nothing worth covering up, but he insisted upon wearing the masks in public at least. After knowing him for a few months, he let you see his bare face, but only at his house. And man...were you blown away. He almost...looked like a woman without the mask. But not? It was hard to explain. He was like some kind of gender-less, androgynous deity. He certainly had a strong, masculine brow and jaw, but then his lips were pert and plump and soft...soft-looking at least. They were gentle and the cupid’s bow dipped down low and rounded out. He had a wide, manly chest and slender waist, but long eyelashes. Large, veiny hands, but delicate skin and hair. He was absolutely heavenly to look at. That first time, when you’d seen him without his mask, you knew you were falling hard, and it made you sweat and your heart speed up. You were always so scared that you’d go too far or flirt by accident and he’d catch on and pull away from your friendship. It hadn’t happened yet, thankfully.

     It was raining, pouring down actually, and you two rushed down the street side by side, backpacks over your heads for protection from the downpour.

     “I apologize. As you know, I would usually have an umbrella but after she kicked me out last night, Miyadera has refused to let me go in and get anything that I didn’t have on my person at the time.” He was right, he was always prepared for any possibility, and his sister had now made that impossible.

     “It’s fine. I read the forecast this morning. I should’ve brought one as well,” you yelled, the rain pelting you both loudly. “We really should get a car or something. We’re seniors for fuck’s sake.” We? You didn’t know why you’d said that. He was his own person and probably could afford to buy you both cars with his own pocket money.

     Why did you even say that?

     “Ah, but walking is better exercise! It’s good for us! Besides...Miya won’t let me buy one... you know that. She practically controls all of my funds.”

     “Kiyo, you’re 18 now, get your damn money back!”

     “I’m scared…” he chuckled, only half-joking. It was true, you both had turned 18 recently and were about to graduate, but his sister still treated him like a little kid. Pretty ironic, as you wouldn’t kick a little kid out onto the street on their own.

     You passed his neighborhood, and he looked up at it longingly, raindrops substituting tears dripping down his cheeks. You could tell this was weighing on him. He loved his home, it was where he felt safe, and he hated fighting with his sister. She was a tough guardian, yes, but she gave up her life as a young woman in her prime to raise him.

     You were approaching your street now, both of you soaked down to your socks and hoping your bags didn’t also soak through. You both had many folders of homework and electronics inside that would all be ruined if so. You reached the curb, waiting to cross into your neighborhood, when an unruly teen in his beaten-up sedan screeched by, speeding past you two carelessly. You grabbed Korekiyo’s pale, cold hand, startled by the sudden volume of the law-breaking vehicle, and you both gasped as its wheels dug into the puddle in front of you just below the curb, and splashed onto you both like a tidal wave.

     “Fuckin’ asshole!” You yelled, charging forward after the car until a hand landed firmly on your shoulder, holding you back. You swore the rain would begin to evaporate and steam up into the air with how hot your skin was right now. You were royally pissed off.

     “Y/N if he’s the type of man to do that, what do you think talking to him would accomplish? Also, do you really think it’s possible to catch up to a speeding vehicle on foot?” Always the voice of reason. Always so calm and mature. You usually admired that in him, but right now you were seeing red, and his dismissal of your mood made you a bit ticked off at him as well.

     “But! I-gah! Aren’t you pissed? He just-”

     “Got us wet? We were already wet.”

     “But he did that on purpose!”

     “I know. Being irate changes nothing. Come on, once we are inside I’m sure we can get warm and dry off. I’ll keep you warm,” he smiled gently behind his mask, his eyes crinkling. Your cheeks would’ve heated up had your body not already been aflame from rage. You didn’t know why you were always so flustered when he was caring toward you or touched you or even mentioned touching you. You felt gross reveling in his platonic intimacy so much. It felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness. Yes, he could keep you warm once you got home. That was normal. You two always cuddled or held hands or leaned on each other. You were just that close. But it was all just casual, as friends...right?

     “Y-yeah. You can shower and I have some baggier, more comfortable clothes you can wear to hang out and sleep in. I think those should fit.” Korekiyo was taller than you and awfully skinny but you had some general sweatpants and oversized t-shirts that you were sure would fit anyone comfortably. You knew Korekiyo was used to the best and most expensive textiles and fashion, but for just hanging out at your house? It should be fine.

     “That’s very kind of you, thanks.” You were sure he was thinking: how could you put me in peasant-wear, but he would never say that aloud to you. “Why do you have that awful look on your face? Did I say something to offend you, Y/N?” He took your hand in his as you reached your front door and rummaged through your bag for your house keys, Korekiyo holding his phone’s flashlight over your bag to assist you.

     “No, I’m fine, Kiyo, why?” The keys jingled in the lock and you opened the door.

     “You know you can’t lie to me, Y/N,” his voice dropped into a low rumble, and you got chills down your spine. He was just so...sexy without even trying.

     “I just...sometimes I feel bad that you spend so much time with me or like I’m not enough, like the rest of our classmates who live in that bougie housing plan of yours...like with the clothes I’m giving you tonight. I feel like you deserve better or like...like what if those kids start to judge you one day because you’re hanging out with people that are beneath you.”

     “Y/N,” he stopped you, rolling his eyes as you both dropped your soaking bags and overcoats on the floor on your living room, “You’re my ‘bestie’ as you always say,” he chuckled dryly. “Do you really think I care what clothes I’m wearing when we are alone or what any of our peers think of my friendship with you? I know you know me far better than that… where is this all coming from? You’re unusually… emotional today,” he took your hand once again, leading you to the couch, but pausing before sitting down with you. “I do not wish to soak your couch. That shower would be nice about now,” you could see the pallor of his skin, coated like wet porcelain as he shook slightly.

     “Y-yes! Well okay, we have a bathroom in my parent’s master bedroom and one just in the hallway for guests and myself. You can take the master bedroom one, it’s much nicer,” you stuttered.

     “Why do you insist on babying me and always thinking I need pampered or require only the finer things in life? I was born wealthy, I don’t need all of those things. I think your house is wonderful,” he gestured around him, “just like you!” He encouraged you before letting you lead him upstairs. You ran to the bathroom closet then to your room, leaving him in the dark hallway alone for just a moment. He observed the photos on your wall, the paint, the carpet. Why would he judge you for any of this?

     You returned with the sleep-wear you promised and a fresh towel.

     “You can go ahead and use anything in there. My dad won’t even notice. B-but... if you don’t like his soaps and shampoos let me know. I have quite the skincare and bathing collection!” You were a little proud of that fact, and he smiled at the happiness finally leaking back into your attitude.

     “I’m sure it will all be fine. Thank you, Y/N.” He nodded, taking the towel and clothes from you before heading into your father’s room. You turned on your heel, fetching what you needed before taking a shower of your own in the hallway’s smaller bathroom.

~

     You sighed, but not in relief or relaxation, letting the hot water fall over you and loosen your tense muscles. You felt just so...fucked up. Conflicted. Confused. Guilty...love-struck. You didn’t know what to do and felt extremely overwhelmed.

     Tonight would be the best opportunity to tell him how you feel: alone, private, cozy and warm, cuddling up together? Yes, that was perfect...but at the same time, if he rejects you, then what? He leaves immediately and has nowhere to go? Or maybe he stays the night to be polite and there’s an awkward silence between you for the rest of your lives...what if he avoids you after school and no longer wants to go to the same university as you?! Your head was spinning.

     Why am I such a coward...you thought to yourself, tears mingling with the shower water.

~

     When you finally dried off and got dressed, Korekiyo was already waiting for you in your room, having turned on your electric blanket on your bed and sitting patiently waiting for you underneath it. His hair was damp and his mask was on your night stand. He acknowledged your entrance with a warm grin and patted the bed next to him.

     “Why are you in bed? It’s only like five, I was thinking we would go downstairs and cuddle on the couch and eat something-” you approached him slowly and he cut you off.

     “Goodness, Y/N, what’s wrong?” He stood to meet you, inches away and towering over you.

      “Huh?” He took your chin in his hands and tilted it upwards to meet his dandelion-colored eyes.

     “Your eyes are all puffed up. You’ve been crying? Why?” Wow…

     “You never miss a thing, huh, Kiyo?” You tried to change the subject or lighten the mood or...anything!

     “Only when it comes to you~” he hummed before leading you down the stairs and onto your couch. You dragged along behind him like a child being forced to the dentist. “Now, what’s upsetting you? You can tell me anything, you know that…” his eyes were full of concern and he but his lower lip, apprehensive.

     “Kiyo, I- well….it’s just...nothing’s wrong. Let’s go get some snacks. I know you love soup dumplings with white rice~” You smiled weakly.

     “First of all, that’s more of a meal than a snack, but anyway, you know you can’t lie to me, Y/N.”

     “I just...I just want...this is so hard.” You sighed, voice faltering.

     “What’s so hard? Me sleeping over, or your dad being gone? The rain earlier?”

     “No no.... I want you here and you know I don’t miss my dad...a-and I feel much better after washing up…” your voice trailed off. He took your hand one final time that night.

     And then...

     “May I kiss you?” Kiyo spoke so gently, so scared and soft, like he couldn’t even believe his own words. Your eyes widened in shock.

     “W-what?!” You pulled away from him, incredulous.

     “I want to kiss you, Y/N. Will you allow me?” You paused for a moment, your mind reeling, but then you nodded slowly, your brain taking over and deciding it knew what was best for you.

     Korekiyo leaned in, the couch squeaking a bit at the shift of weight. He clasped your chin with one hand, and guided you to him. His lips pressed gently into yours, as if he thought he might break you if he went any further. His lips were plush, surging with warmth, exactly how you’d always imagined them. After pecking you, he pulled back, looking for consent, looking for a sign that you enjoyed that, too. You nodded, getting the hint, and he pressed back onto you, a bit more liberal with his affection this time around.

     “Mmm…” you moaned into the kiss as you both tilted your heads at an angle to reach deeper, and his mouth slid open. His tongue trailed against your bottom lip and you opened up without hesitation, your heart going a mile a minute. His tongue massaged yours carefully for a long moment that seemed frozen in time, and then he pulled back. You both sat staring at each other, panting a bit, until a smirk teased across the corner of his lips, and a blush appeared on his normally-concealed face. “H-how...how did you know?”

     “I’ve always known…” you felt a wave of embarrassment and shame wash over you. “You’re not good at hiding it.”

     “Kiyo...I’m so sorry. I know we are just friends and I shouldn’t feel this way. I just- you are...I can’t stop feeling this way.”

     “Y/N...did you think I asked to kiss you out of pity…?” He saw something like realization register in your expression, and he reached out, pulling you into his chest.

     “You...you feel the same?”

     “Exactly the same.” You didn’t feel so guilty anymore. “And I suppose we both were just too afraid of rejection to say anything. But knowing you, I knew I would have to make the first move if I ever wanted you to myself…” he hugged you tighter with those words.

     “Y-yeah, I’m sorry about that...Kiyo, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you.”

     “And I should’ve told you, but there’s no use feeling guilty. We both want this.”

     “Kiyo, will you...be my boyfriend…?” You now knew his true feelings, but still felt a lump in your throat. What if he didn’t want a committed, serious relationship right now, or his sister wouldn’t allow it...?

     “I want that more than anything.”

     You spent the rest of the night cooking soup dumplings, then shoving your faces with the greasiest snacks money could buy and watching documentaries while snuggled into his lap on the couch. He pointed out little facts and trivia along with each documentary, his obsession for culture and anthropology unabashedly taking over.

[grimmjowkurosakidrake]

Can’t stay the same

Summary: Part five of my Time travel fic: The end is were we begin

Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke

Lenght: 2,024 Words

Quick disclaimer: This chapter was commissioned by the always great @birkastan2018​ who actually helped me with my grammar and spelling in the fic!

 @witcheswritings​ !

Feel free to DM Aquelarre if you want to commission a fic even if it’s not Naruto related

Previous

Sakura being trained by Itachi and Shisui feels wrong.

But Sasuke can’t deny that she’s getting stronger. Her stamina has increased under his cousin’s merciless training regime, and even her prior, almost inexistent tolerance to pain has developed in a way he could have only dreamed of under his (or even Kakashi’s) tutelage. 

Their sensei had always been far too soft on her; always hesitant to really push her because he was afraid that she’d get hurt.

Naruto and Sasuke always went along with the idea that they could protect their female teammate no matter what happened.

And they could, they were strong back then and Sasuke is sure they will become even stronger in the future.

But that was not the point then and it isn’t the point now.

Sakura is a shinobi, a kunoichi. If she at some point wanted to be the sort of person that needed to be saved or protected, she would’ve stayed a civilian. She wasn’t obligated in any way to continue her life as a Shinobi, Sakura didn’t have any ties to the shinobi world in the sense that she didn’t come from any clan.

She chose the life of a kunoichi.

It took years for him and Naruto to understand this, and allow her to bloom in her own right.

Kakashi is another story entirely. Sasuke could never understand the man, even as an adult the roots of his teacher’s trauma were always a mystery to him.

Maybe he just didn’t know how to train a girl. Or he probably didn’t even know how to train anyone if the rumours of him never taking on a team were true.

Maybe he simply wasn’t interested in training a young civilian girl with no foundation other than the academy’s sloppy teaching methods. Especially when he had the only survivor of the Uchiha massacre and the Kyuubi’s vessel to deal with.

Maybe she reminded him too much of Rin, his first teammate. A girl that was said to be bright and sunny; always happy and ready to help her team in whatever way she could.

A girl eternally in love with her cold teammate Kakashi, even though their loving and kind third teammate would have given her the sun and the stars if she so desired.

Whatever the reasons behind Kakashi’s negligence of Sakura, the truth was she could have never truly bloomed as a kunoichi under the care of their team.

It wasn’t until he left the village, Naruto followed Jiraiya to advance his own training, and Kakashi completely disappeared from her life until Naruto’s return, that she finally set out on her own path as a ninja.

Now she trains her stamina and speed with Shisui every other morning. She wakes up at dawn on the days she meets with his cousin to challenge her body to the brink. Shisui has her running endless laps and sparring with him, and even though she has no hope of pinning him in her current state - Sakura keeps going. Sasuke even found her carrying Naruto on her back as a way to build up her strength.

Or so, Shisui said with a smirk dancing on his mouth.

In addition to her training with Shisui, Sakura joins her team on small missions and sometimes works one-on-one with Kakashi, who has started to take a more serious approach to her development.

Maybe he is being possessive of his “cute little genin” as he likes to call them, or maybe he’s finally realized that he can’t just ignore one of his students.

Sasuke doesn’t really care about his reasons. The important thing is that his team is acquiring the tools they need to defend themselves, to survive, and to hopefully beat the odds they will face in the future.

Someday, he will take more time to consider Kakashi, the man who passed down his most powerful jutsu to him... just as his own father taught him their clan’s signature giant fireball.

But for now, with his brother safe and actually happy beside him everyday, Naruto and Sakura are his only worry. They are his most precious people; warm sources of light in his otherwise dark life.

Sakura also trains with Itachi when he has the time, but she doesn’t seem very keen on sharing what they work on.

“We’re trying to find her strengths,” shares his brother one night after Sakura leaves their house, refusing both his and Itachi’s offers to scort her home. “Something to make her stand out, like Naruto-kun’s Multiple Shadow Clone Technique or even our own Sharingan.”

Like her enhanced strength or her excellent chakra control.

“And have you found anything?” Asks the black haired boy, eager for results, “Her chakra control is excellent and I think she has an affinity for water.” he supplies, trying to sound nonchalant, but if his brother’s smirk is anything to go by, he’s not doing a great job of it.

Itachi shakes his head with a grimace. “Even thought her chakra control is better than average, her actual reserves are not nearly enough for her to sustain any form of actually damaging attack.”

Admittedly, Itachi was never really a teacher to begin with. He was a prodigy to his very core, and the only actual experience he ever had at teaching was with Sasuke (another prodigy) and Naruto, the host of the nine tailed beast.

“But there has to be something!” Sasuke recalls his wife’s monstrous strength, her unparalleled medical jutsu, her strength of a hundred seal... Sakura has so much potential.

“We are working on genjutsu at the moment,” concedes Itachi, black eyes looking at the koi pond their mother used to take care of before her banishment with the rest of the Uchiha traitors. Now, only Sasuke has time to spare for such things. “Not enough for her to be at an Uchiha’s, or even a Yuhi’s level. Just sufficient for her to break through one, or create a distraction for up to a minute tops.”

“That’s…” Mumbles Sasuke.

That’s not enough.

She’s stronger than she was at this point back in his original timeline, and she’ll probably be able to defend herself against the sound ninja better than she did last time. But her confidence is just as low as it was weeks ago. She still thinks she’s weak, and she still hesitates before every punch she throws at training.

She needs Tsunade, Sasuke finally realises.

There’s no way Itachi or Shisui can offer her the confidence or the tools that the slug princess passed onto Sakura as if she was her entire legacy.

Of course, for Sakura’s sake, Sasuke will make sure that the woman comes back.

But at the moment, there’s nothing he can do to force the sannin’s return to the village. 

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

Today, Sasuke wakes up later than usual. He has a mission at noon, sharp. But he knows that Kakashi will take a four hours long detour to visit his dead teammates, so he’s not worried about it.

He arrives at their meeting point, a quarter after one in the afternoon where a restless Sakura and smug Naruto are waiting for him.

Sakura is leaning against a tree, looking at him with clear disappointment. But she’s not bold enough to voice her thoughts.

Naruto on the other hand, would never miss an opportunity to scold Sasuke “Sasuke!” He screams running from his place at Sakura’s feet to stop right in front Sasuke’s face. “You’re late!” Accuses the blond pointing a finger at him.

Of course, Sasuke is unfazed. “Is Kakashi here?” He asks in his usual bored tone, his dark eyes boring into Sakura.

She blushes at his stare and breaks eye contact before answering. “No,” she sighs, letting her body fall to a sitting position on the grass. She tucks her knees under her chin and hugs her shins with her delicate arms.

Watching the boys growl and snap at each other like a pair of two misbehaving little puppies, she probably wishes her teacher will arrive anytime soon.

When Kakashi finally arrives is not particularly relevant, they end up doing some chores for people around the village. Memorably, Sakura manages to lift an entire barrel of beer for the owner of a bar down the street from Naruto’s apartment.

And when all of their work is done, she carries Naruto on her back as he complains about their day, even though he was the one who asked Kakashi for harder missions.

Sasuke can’t say that he would like to be carried by a girl like this but he doesn’t like seeing Naruto taking advantage of Sakura’s kindness.

“This is because you pushed yourself too much,” complains Sakura as Naruto groans once again from the pain.

“You can’t even take care of yourself?” Snipes Sasuke, grumbling from behind the pair as Kakashi ruffles his hair affectionately.

Immediately, Naruto hops from Sakura’s back and tries to fight off Sasuke. The girl, of course, doesn’t allow it and hold the blond by his right arm.

“Do you have to do this every single time?” She struggles to pull Naruto back. “You’re supposed to be friends,” she snaps, clearly annoyed.

It’s true, Sasuke thinks. They are friends, and nothing can break their bond. But Naruto is still a child, and Sasuke is supposed to be one as well.

“Your teamwork seems to be suffering lately,” quips Kakashi.

“It’s Sasuke’s fault,” accuses Naruto, “always showing off and acting like he’s better than us,” he complains.

Sasuke smirks. “Become stronger than me, then,” he challenges the blond, “if you want to stop me from making you look bad.”

This time around, is Naruto’s turn to smile at him, clearly pleased with his words.

Kakashi sighs, finally looking up at them from his book. “Ok, that’s it for today,” he declares. “I have to fill out our reports, anyway.”

No one complains as their teacher leaves them. They’re already used to Kakashi disappearing on them to fill out reports or attend meetings with the Hokage or other Jounin.

“We should train some more,” offers Sasuke, already walking in the direction of their usual training grounds.

Naruto and Sakura are obviously unexcited about this. They’re already tired from their morning training and the missions they completed that afternoon. But neither of them have the heart to deny Sasuke.  They know he’s right.

“Yeah,” sighs Sakura hesitantly trailing after the black haired boy “more training will do us some good.”

Naruto, never one to deny an opportunity to train, follows them promptly. “Of course!” He smiles, “Sakura-chan and I should fight Sasuke!” Exclaims the blond planting his right hand of her shoulder in a friendly manner. “I’m sure we can take him.”

Sakura, for the first time in a long time, ever since he left his wife back in his timeline, smiles confidently. “That could be fun,” she smirks. “I’m sure Sasuke-kun is up for the challenge.”

“I’ll tell you what.” Sasuke smirks, stops in the middle of the street and looks squarely at his teammates. “Loser pays for lunch.”

Sakura and Naruto grin at each other, ready to fight him as soon as they reach their designated training area.

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

Sadly, just like last time, they are distracted by the Hokage’s grandson and his little friends as the children try to rope them into one of their games.

Ninja playing ninja sounds ludicrous, but Sasuke knows this is exactly what they’re doing. Just a group of kids pretending to be adults.

As he senses the sand sibling’s chakra getting closer, with each signature more menacing and powerful than the one before - he realizes that they were never ready for this encounter. Up until this point, they were never anything more than children playing ninja.

They thought they’d already experienced the worst the shinobi world had to offer, but...

They couldn’t have been more wrong. They didn’t know it then, but even people like Gaara were nothing compared to the dangers that awaited them in the future.

As these Suna chakra signatures become stronger, Sasuke makes sure to stand protectively in front of his teammates when they finally come face to face with Temari and Kankuro.

Gaara’s bloodthirsty presence hides above them. I hope you like this chapter and I specially hope @birkastan2018 likes it!!!

[adelindschade]

Karma is a female-dog

Moroha found the dance between Setsuna and Hisui hilarious. Never one for romance, she enjoyed the awkwardness that surrounded the pair. The boy was much more in love in the half-demon than she was him. Inevitable heartbreak, Moroha predicted. She also relished in the red that overcame his face whenever she pointed it out. In front of her father, his father – anyone, really! And he’d lash out with his weapon of choice – just too slow to make a contact; she was too swift.

So, karma had to repay the favor.

One errand. That’s all. A trip from one village to the other for mere supplies. Of course, her mother insisted she wear something less conspicuous. A frivolous kimono borrowed from Sango. And no teeth. Be polite – don’t say anything smart. That part was uttered by her hypocritical father – though his intentions meant well, too concerned his daughter would be harmed by people propelled by prejudice. Not that she couldn’t hold her own…

Which is why she didn’t mind picking a fight with a demon that she came across attacking a procession of men. They were no match for the gigantic beast but she came prepared with her sword, hidden well. Not even her father spied the piece as she slipped off. Nor would he have said something because better safe than sorry. Her mother would have opted for a bow. Thankfully, she gathered that, too, having tucked it away out of her father’s sight and grabbed it as she rounded the hut.

A rebel through and through. Seventeen going onto forever. She was invincible.

Her hair was done in a much more mature fashion – much to her chagrin as she had to set aside precious seconds to tie it back. Another man had fallen from his horse; another slain. She raised her bow and shot it straight – piercing armor made of bone. The beast howled and glared down at the surprisingly small woman.

“You!” It thrashed, attempting to grab her. Her reflexes were keener than its own, evading capture with a simple jump back. She wielded her preferred weapon, a sword of strength and stealth that matched her own.

It screamed as its wrist was sliced clean up. Screw her kimono – she doubted it was the first time the fabric had been spoiled with blood. Sango would know how to clean it out. She made another slice, aiming at its neck. Blood was rampant in the air but she did her best to ignore the stench.

For a demon so large, it offered little fight. She was disappointed to see it cut down so fast. She wanted something more. With a heavy sigh, she yielded her sword and secured her bow back in place.

“Not even a bounty,” she lamented as she walked pass. A corpse or two lay in her wake; nothing could be done for them. Her father would’ve pitied them but moved on. The living would attend to the carnage. She had another mission. Her mother would have a fit if she did not come by sundown with the desired herbs.

“Miss! Miss!”

She paused mid-step, glancing back with curiosity. A man of noble tier scrambled her way, traumatized by the slaughter yet having not a scratch on his body. He must’ve been important to be protected.

“Yeah?”

“Miss! I must know your name to express my deepest gratitude!”

“Uh…” she mustered. If she said her name, it could come back to bite her. Yet, what harm could it do?

“Moroha,” she decided to oblige him.

“Lady Moroha? I am indebted to you. You have demonstrated great skill and bravery in face of true terror. As a reward for saving my life from certain death, I’d be honored if you would accept my proposal of marriage.”

“What…?” she stammered.

“I am Nobleman Akio Inoue, the youngest child and only son of Chieftain-”

“Sorry, but no,” she rudely interrupted. So much for avoiding harm. She just insulted some high-and-might-nobleman. Would her father care? No. Would he hate the idea of having to deal with the aftermath of a man’s wounded pride? Of course. But he’d rather deal with that than send his daughter off to a stranger. “My father would not accept,” she attempted to ease the brunt of the blow.

“Whom is your father?” he inquired.

“Uh…”

Myoga had called him a Lord. And her mother a Lady. But she had always known them to be called nothing more than a half-demon and a priestess. Informally, Inuyasha and Kagome. She always called them Mom and Dad. Yet, her heritage may claim more rank above the nobleman’s if she took into consideration the demon hierarchy. She wouldn’t explain such to him since she scarcely understood it herself.

“None of your concern,” she eased. “Your expression of gratitude will suffice. Carry on,” she dismissed hastily. Her steps fastened and she swiftly escaped out of ear shot, though she heard him call her out plenty in her retreat.

She nearly forgot the experience altogether, grumbling to her father about the scolding she received from her mother upon returning home later than usual and bearing blood all over the borrowed clothes. He laughed, patted her hair, granted her his usual line of “could be worse” before walking off into the village where she was certain he sought to converse with Miroku over their latest job.

Or tease Hisui over his crush on Setsuna. Inuyasha found it humorous a slayer was enamored with Sesshomaru’s offspring. ‘Kid is suicidal,’ her father would tease. Setsuna wasn’t as warm to Inuyasha as she was to Moroha – distrusting of the adult half-demon more so for his connection with her estranged father than anything else.

Talks of proposals were long forgotten until one unexpected visit from a nearby nobleman had Moroha hiding behind Kaede’s hut. Her mother was alarmed.

“I’ll be off!” she squeaked but her mother kept her cornered.

“Why are you so scared of being seen?” her mother questioned with crossed arms. “Shy is not a word I’d describe you as.”

“Uh…”

“Spit it out, Moroha!”

“I SAVED HIM FROM A DEMON AND HE PROPOSED TO ME AND I SAID NO!” Moroha breathed all at once. She was wide eyed and panicked, much like her mother who exhibited the same nervous expression.

“What?!”

“I DIDN’T TELL DAD BECAUSE DAD WOULD – WELL, YOU KNOW HIM! SO, I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING AND I THOUGHT IT WOULDN’T BE A PROBLEM BECAUSE I’D NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN BUT THAT’S NOT THE CASE!”

“Moroha, one trip by yourself and we’ve slighted a noble family! I don’t know if your father would be proud of you or furious!”

“Just hide me! I was never here!!”

“Uh, oh,” Kagome winced.

“What?” Moroha whispered.

“He’s caught the village’s attention.”

“No, no, no, no,” Moroha pleaded helplessly. She hid into her mother’s shoulder.

“I seek a fair maiden by the name of Moroha!” the man announced. “I was told she resides here!”

The demon’s ears twitched.

“Did he just…?” Setsuna asked, eyeing the stranger whose caravan arrived in their measly village.

“Fair? Is he talking about our Moroha?” Hisui chuckled. That earned a small grin from Setsuna.

“She must have hit him too hard on the head,” she replied. He laughed at her jab.

“She is cute… when she wants to be,” Shippo jabbed. “She’s a bit of a tomboy.” He spied an emerging figure from the nearby tree stepping onto the road. “Uh-oh…”

“What about her?” Inuyasha stepped forward. His voice was harsh and cautious.

“I desire to seek out her father,” he replied sternly. “I have business with him that requires immediate attention.”

“How so…” Inuyasha insisted, arms crossed and eyes set in a beady glare.

“It does not concern you, half-demon! Step aside!” the man cast with a strong arm to the left.

“It sure as hell does when it’s my daughter you’re talking about,” Inuyasha spat. His hand wavered over the sheath of his trusted sword.

“We don’t know a Moroha! He is confused!” Kagome intervened with lightning speed. She bowed incessantly. Inuyasha looked down with utter confusion.

“Priestess, you know this half-demon?”

Before Inuyasha could say anything, Kagome snuck a small glare his way. “Don’t say anything!” she hissed.

“Okay…” he grumbled.

“We know a Moroha!” Hisui spoke out. He was the recipient of icy glares from both parents and child alike. Setsuna was unmoved.

“What business do you have with her?” her cousin pitched.

“I desire to speak with her father at once!”

“He’s right here – what do you have to say? Get on with it,” Inuyasha spat, baring his teeth.

“Inuyasha…” Kagome whispered, tugging him back by his arm to no avail.

“In no way could a half-demon like you reproduce such a fine creature as she,” the nobleman sneered.

“Thanks for the compliment but get on with it before I part you head from your body, idiot,” Inuyasha snarled.

Kagome paled. Moroha shrunk in the shadows.

“Perhaps I can intermediate,” Miroku intervened. He stepped between the two. “I can attest my friend, though foul tempered, is indeed the father of the woman you inquire about.”

“I agree with Inuyasha – what business do you have with her?” Sango joined. Her hand was purposely placed on her weapon, ready to draw.

“She is my betrothed!”

“No, I’m not!” Moroha shrieked as she emerged from her hiding place. “I said no!”

“You said your father would not approve,” Akio mused.

“I said no and that he wouldn’t approve!” she raised her voice as an angry red overcame her features.

“Which I don’t!” Inuyasha joined.

“Get that through your thick skull! Move on!!” Moroha seconded.

“You are… partially demon,” Akio nodded. “That explains your strength and bravery. Nonetheless, I am indebted to you, and your heritage does not dissuade me from fulfilling my promise.”

“The hell you will! Hands off my daughter, you freak,” Inuyasha snarled, drawing his sword.

Setsuna chuckled. Hisui sputtered, doing his best to hide his amusement after a reprimanding look from his uncle, followed by his own parents who were worried by Inuyasha retaliating.

“This is one big misunderstanding,” Kagome waved off before retracting her daughter behind her.

“A priestess and a half-demon… such a peculiar union…”

“If you got something to say, pal, say it!”

“Inuyasha! Sit, boy!”

A thunderous thud followed, with her father planted on the road.

“Ow!!”

Moroha stiffened, never so happy in her life to be free of such damning beads.

“Sorry, Dad!” She squeaked.

“Why do you approve of such a match? Surely, I’d elevate her station, and bestow our children with a better quality of life,” he made the mistake of justifying. “They would exhibit a lesser degree of demonic energy as she or yourself. We could disguise that properly.”

“CHILDREN?!” Both daughter-and-father cried incredulously.

Kagome sputtered. “Excuse me, she’s seventeen!”

“He’s surely digging his own grave,” Sango sighed.

“Perhaps it’s best we let her father do the honors,” Miroku agreed. He wasn’t naïve enough to think he’d react any differently where his twins were concerned. They stepped out of the way in tandem.

“This will be a slaughter,” Setsuna theorized.

“I am not a cow to be bred!” Moroha squawked. “I’ll kill you myself!”

“No one is killing anyone!” Kagome disagreed. She breathed nervously. “I’m sorry you came all this way… but marriage is not in the future for you two,” she attempted to mediate.

“Is she already spoken for?”

“No! She’s seventeen and under my care!” Inuyasha growled with a raised fist.

“Oh, so you already prepared a match with someone of your likeness,” Akio accused with narrowed us. “I disagree – it’d be a disservice for your daughter.”

“That’s not your call to make and she isn’t marrying anyone anytime soon! Not if I have any say in it!”

“Yeah! Marriage ain’t for me, buddy!” Moroha copied.

“I wouldn’t turn it down so soon if I were you,” Hisui humored. “This could be your one and only chance.”

Moroha steered towards him with raging eyes.

“No one asked you, Hisui!”

“Butt out, you! Miroku! Manage your son!”

“Now is not the time, son,” Miroku meekly said as he approached his offspring.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Setsuna joined.

“With me…?” Hisui prompted, hopeful she was aligning herself with him.

“This one or perhaps, if he’s still enamored, the wolf boy, too,” Setsuna added.

“Enough!” Inuyasha bellowed. He nearly drew out his sword had it not been for Kagome who stepped in front of him, guarding him.

“Would you decline nobility and comfortability?” Akio asked Moroha.

“I do! I’m staying right here! Time to go! Good-bye! See you never!”

“Manners,” Kagome warned.

“Screw manners,” Inuyasha cursed.

“So be it,” Akio dejected. He pulled the reigns of the steed, prompting the horse forward. He passed by the family of three as he did.

“No offense has been taken, I assure you,” he calmly said as his eyes set upon Moroha. “I bid you good fortune, Lady Moroha, and you, too… half-demon, priestess…”

Inuyasha was tense, hands fisted, alongside his daughter who bore teeth as he passed. A real feral child – however cute she may be in her mother’s eyes. Kagome waved awkwardly.

“You missed your chance to marry rich,” Hisui teased as he joined the threesome alongside his parents.

“You handled yourself pretty well given the circumstances,” Miroku chuckled.

“Moroha…” Inuyasha warned. She felt his eyes burn into her skull. She trembled.

“Mom can explain!!” She squealed, running away.

“Not a chance! Get back here!” Inuyasha gave chase.

“I wonder what your dad would do if someone tried to ask for your hand,” Hisui joked to Setsuna.

“Kill him, no doubt,” Setsuna answered promptly.

The color on his face drained.

“Maybe we should pick our battles,” Sango warned – enjoying the terror on her boy’s face as she, too, foresaw his crush teetering on delusional.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

How to hold a sword - Geralt of Rivia x Reader - Part 1 of 2

Summary: You are bored with your life and want more. Luckily, Geralt of Rivia visits the town one day.

Requested by: @just-antiyou “could i request a geralt x reader where the reader is slightly wealthy but hates it and wants to be tougher than she looks so she hites geralt to teacher her and he slowly falls for her but she doesnt comprehend why HER? maybe this made no sense im so sorry i love ur writing pls an thank u stay safe” --> Hope you like it! I decided to make two parts out of the story! <3

Words: 2030 Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x fem!Reader Warnings: none

„Stop wasting my time. “

 „Come on! I can pay you!”

 “Sure you can.”

 “Yes! Don’t you believe me?”

 “Stop bothering me and go home.”

 “I have coin! Here!”

 Finally, the Witcher turned around when he heard the rattling of the coins in your small bag as you held it up. He quickly grabbed your hand, forcing it down. “Are you mad or do you enjoy the idea of being robbed,” he scolded you.

He was right. You were standing in the middle of a busy street, merchants and farmers passing you by as they made their way home from the market. The sun was already beginning to set and the first drunks stumbled out of the tavern to your right. Two working girls shrieked when a man fell against them, landing face down on one of the their bosoms, and angrily pushed him away.

 You let the small bag slip back into the pocket of your coat. “I have coin!”, you repeated yourself.

 “Where’d you get that?”, he demanded to know. “Did you steal it?”

 You snorted. Asshole. “My family owns half the town. Did you not recognize this?!” You pointed at your necklace with the family emblem brightly visible.

 His eyes only grazed shortly over it. “I’m not from here.”

 “Right, because you’re Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher, a famous one – so give me one reason why you would decline my offer?”

 “Teaching spoilt girls how to hold a sword is not in my job description.”

 “First of all,” this time you pointed your finger at him. “I’m not a girl, I’m a woman, so start treating me like one! And secondly, as far as I’m concerned, there is no monster to kill for you at the moment.”

 “There’s always monsters to kill.”

 “Witcher!” A frustrated sigh escaped your mouth. What was his problem?

 Geralt looked at you intensely, his eyes wandering from your face to your pocket, where the coins were stowed, back to your face. He pondered about what the offer would truly mean – letting another person come too close to him rarely resulted in anything good. People around him tend to end up hurt or heartbroken or dead. The last person to experience this had been Jaskier. Years of traveling together and it ended in Geralt chasing him away, blaming him for things that weren’t his fault. This happened a few years back and since then, the two of them had rekindled their friendship, but still. His point remained unchanged.

 However, this could be different. You didn’t seek him out to become friends. It was nothing more than a job. Not to mention that your comment about him not having anything better to do at the moment was true. He could really use the coin. Before Geralt was able to rethink this, he wiped his eyes in a tiring and annoyed matter. “Fine.”

 Your face lit up instantly and a big smile appeared on it. “Yes? Oh thank you!”

 “Ten days.”

 “That’s a good start!”, you exclaimed happily.

 “It’s not a start, it’s all I’m offering,” he corrected you. Were you always this cheerful or just when you got your way? “What do I get out of it?”

 “Three coins for each day.”

 The Witcher raised an eyebrow. There was far more in that bag of yours and you both knew it. “Eight.”

 “Four.”

 “Seven.”

 “Witcher!”

 “Six then.”

 “Five.”

“Deal,” he nodded.

 Your smile grew even wider. “Thank you! This is fantastic!”

 The only acknowledgment you got for that statement was a low grunt. He wasn’t so sure about it being a fantastic idea. “Meet me here tomorrow when the sun rises. Do you own a sword?”

 He let out a sigh when you shook your head. “Of course you don’t. Doesn’t matter. Tomorrow, when the sun rises! Understood?”

 “Understood!”

 ***

 You arrived early the next morning. The excitement for the days to come was too overwhelming so after hours of tossing and turning and occasionally falling into a half slumber, you decided to cut the night short.

 You nervously looked around you. Despite the late (or rather early) hour, the street was buzzing with people. Mostly drunks but no less intimidating. It was the second time you visit this part of the town as your mother would forbid you to come here. “It’s a dangerous place,” she always said, “nothing to find there except for criminals and whores.” Observing the people around you, she might had a point.

 Growing up in one of the richest families of the town was a blessing and a curse at the same time. Nothing seemed to be missing from your life – dresses and jewelry, parties and royal receptions – everything was there in arm’s reach. You never had to work a day in your life and never went to bed on an empty stomach. Still, you were unhappy. You were born into this world with no purpose. All you had to do was look pretty, agree to a beneficial marriage and produce heirs. Your father didn’t allow you to be something else, something more. You never asked for much, knowing he’d deny your requests, except for learning how to fight and defend yourself. It was a simple desire but you hoped it would give you something. What, you weren’t sure. A purpose maybe? Indubitably, he refused you.

 A sense of guilt and shame rushed through you. It happened every time as you were aware that the problems were nothing more than luxurary at best. After all, what gave you, a privileged girl with no troubles, the right to complain when there were people starving and dying?

 “Well, ‘ello there, aren’t you a pretty one.”

 You shrieked at the slurring words coming from your left. A man, smelling of beer and piss, reeled towards you. A disgusted look on your face, you took a step back.

 “What’s that face, pretty one? Don’t cha think I’m pretty too?”

 “Fuck off!”

 A second voice made you turn around in surprise. Geralt of Rivia was standing in the doorway of the tavern, glaring at the drunk. Even in his current state of mind, the man sensed that Geralt wasn’t someone he wanted to bother, so he spit out undefinable curses and stumbled away.

 “Thank you,” you said to the Witcher. He looked different this morning. Rested and bathed, you figured and realized his attractiveness for the first time since you met him. Last night you were more focused on convincing him to train you. Tall, broad, with his glooming golden eyes and white hair that fell loosely on his shoulders – only a blind person could deny his good looks.

 Geralt eyed you up and down. “Now why would you wear that?”

 You furrowed your brows in confusion and looked down at your blue dress and fine cloak that hugged your figure. “What?”

 “You want to learn how to fight, am I wrong?”

 “No, you’re not.”

 “And you’re gonna do that in a dress?”

 “I’ve seen women fight in dresses.”

 “But not in fucking ball gowns.”

 “This is not a ball gown!” You protested.

 He rolled his eyes and started walking. “Whatever, come on. We have a long day ahead.”

 You followed, struggling to keep up with him. He didn’t seem to care all that much. “Why do you sleep here?” You pointed back to the run-down pension.

 “What do you mean?”

 “With the money I’m paying, you can afford better … places.”

 “I like it here.”

 “You like sleeping around these creatures?”

 Geralt didn’t answer instead he shot you a glance that made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You knew exactly what he thought in this moment – he probably regretted taking the job and dreaded the fact that he was stuck with a spoilt girl like you for the next days. You didn’t blame him.

 You couldn’t have known on this day but you were wrong. Geralt didn’t have any regrets – not yet however. He saw you as spoilt, yes. He also recognized your will to change – or else you wouldn’t have come to him in the first place.

 ***

 One hour later and Geralt finally stopped in his tracks. You were more than thankful as your feet already started to hurt. The two of you had left the town far behind and had now reached a small clearing in the woods.

 With a sigh you sat down and leaned against a tree. Geralt kept his gaze on the ground and walked around the clearing, looking for something.

 You watched him. There was certainly something about that Witcher with his tall figure, white-hair and brooding looks. Only a blind woman would deny that. For a brief moment, you wondered if he had a companion or a consort, so to speak. What kind of woman did he desire? You had heard rumors about a mage he had taken as his lover. So probably powerful woman, fighters, he didn’t need to worry about protecting.

 “Here,” a stick landing in front of you catapulted you back into reality.

 You looked at the stick and back at Geralt. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

 “Fight,” only then you noticed a second branch, resting in his hand.

 “With a stick?”

 “Yes.”

 You grabbed it and got up in the same movement. “I’m not a child, I won’t play with sticks,” putting some force behind your words, you looked at him intensely.

 His face didn’t falter. “What do you suggest instead?”

 “A sword. I want to learn how to fight with a sword.”

 “You’re not ready.”

 “We only have two weeks though, we need to speed up this whole process,” you argued.

 “You’re not ready.” He repeated sternly.

 You kept staring at him, realizing that you wouldn’t win this argument. A sigh left your lips. “Fine.”

 A small smile appeared on his face. “Great. Let’s get started.”

 *** The first training was an absolute disaster. You were convinced that you spent the most time on the ground, face-down in the mud – the rest of the time you got your ass kicked. The exhaustion you felt when you were back in the tavern with torn clothes and leaves in your hair came close to nothing you ever experienced in your life.

 Geralt sat next to you, happily eating his piece of chicken, looking like he had just returned home from a lazy and relaxed day out of town.

 “You should eat something,” he said in between bites.

 You looked down at your plate where the food remained untouched. “I’m not hungry.”

 “Yes, you are.”

 As if your stomach wanted to agree, a low growl was heard.

 Geralt smirked but didn’t comment.

 “Fine,” you admitted. “I’m starving.”

 “But?”

 “Everything hurts.” It was true, you felt too exhausted to take one bite out of the meat.

 He shrugged. “Of course it does. You’ll get better though.”

 “I don’t think so,” you sighed. “Did you see me today?!”

 “I’ll tell you what,” Geralt said with a chuckle. “I promise that you’ll be able to fight and win against Jaskier by the end of this.”

 “Is he a good fighter?” You asked with narrowed eyes.

 “He’s not too bad.”

 “What if I lose against him?”

 “You’ll get your coin back.”

 “Deal.” You nodded in contently. Then you added after a brief moment: “Wait, who’s Jaskier?”

 “He’s traveling with me,” Geralt simply answered and took a sip from his beer mug. “You’ll meet him tomorrow. He knows people from this town.”

 Jaskier. You were curious about the kind of person a Witcher spent his time with when he wasn’t away, hunting beasts. Was he as calm and collected as Geralt? Always so serious?

 Another growl came from your stomach and you looked back at the plate. Well, maybe not eating at all would be a worse decision. After all, there were nine more days filled with exhaustion ahead of you. Slowly, you reached down to grab one of the chicken legs and bit into it.

 Geralt watched you carefully and a very small part of him began to like the idea of having to spend more dinners with you in the next days. Of course, he’d never admit it. Not even to himself.

***

My Masterlist

My Tag List: @just-antiyou​ , @sarah-midnight​ , @aspiring-ginger​ , @seb-owns-these-tatas​

Message me if you want to be added to my tag list <3

[queen18xo]

I’m Falling Again

Fic for @geraskierminibang for @patchwork-doublet ‘s art :)

A man with short, messy chestnut hair sits on a stool. Various patterned tapestries hang from the walls behind him. On his lap sits a light wood acoustic guitar. He flashes a charming smile at the camera, his baby blue eyes shining beneath the studio lights. The camera slowly zooms in, focusing on soft, agile fingers as they pluck expertly at the acoustic guitar strings, his fingers pluck out a gentle rhythm, his sweet, melodic voice ringing out above the soft strumming of the guitar. 

"I'm in my bed 

And you're not here 

And there's no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands." 

The man on the stool looked to be in his early twenties; he had a young blemish-free face, his face was well structured, his eyes sparkling with a youthful twinkle. His fingers were graceful and moved across the strings with well-practised ease. His chestnut hair complemented his pale complexion; his cheeks tinted pink as he softly sang. As the lyrics spilled from his mouth, his pink lips pulled up into an easy smile. 

He wore a threadbare black t-shirt, the worn hemline drooping to expose his prominent collar bones, the shirt hanging loosely from his slim frame. 

"Forget what I said 

It's not what I meant 

And I can't take it back 

I can't unpack the baggage you left." 

His strumming quickened, the familiar chorus approaching, his voice rising a few octaves as he sang, passion coating every word pushed past his lips. 

"What am I now? What am I now? 

What if you're someone I just want around

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling

What if I'm down?

What if I'm out? 

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling."

The final note rings out loudly; the man throws a disarming smile in the direction of the camera, one of his dainty hands running through his hair, pushing his fringe from where it's fallen into his eyes.

"Thank you for listening everyone; I'm Jaskier." Jaskier's eyes twinkled, his voice bubbles easily from his mouth, his arms flew around at his sides, their movements lightening fast, keeping up with the speed of the words falling from his lips. "So the song was one of my current favourites, Falling by Geralt Rivia" a shy blush coloured his cheeks as he spoke poetically about his favourite singer. "Yeah so for anyone that hasn't checked him out I suggest you do, it was a pleasure to entertain you, until next time." Jaskier threw a flirtatious wink at the camera, a slight blush still colouring his usually pale cheeks. 

The video ended, the screen turning black before several squares advertising other videos. Geralt stared at the screen slack-jawed, his mind reeling as he sat awed by the impressively diverse vocal range the singer showcased. Jaskier had a soft, sweet voice; however, beneath his voice's soothing sultry sound was a raspy quality that added a unique element to his voice. He effortlessly captivated people, his warm smile and bubbly personality were infectious. 

Geralt wasn't usually one to pay attention to others covering his songs; in fact, he actively tried to avoid listening to covers. A piece took months, sometimes even years to perfect, and he had no desire to hear others butchering his hard work. However, listening to Jaskier's cover of one of the least recognised songs he'd released became unavoidable when Cirilla, his 13-year-old daughter, demanded several times in the space of a week that he listened to the cover. 

It was rare to find genuine talent; everything was auto-tuned and over-commercialised, Geralt enjoyed the simplicity of watching a man and his guitar. The sight reminded him of when he had first delved into his passion for music. There was no doubt Jaskier loved what he was doing despite the struggle of being an unknown artist. 

"He's good, right?" A confident voice chirped from behind him; he felt the pressure of his daughter's entire body weight as she pushed down on his broad shoulders as she was bouncing excitedly behind him. 

"Hmmm, not bad." Geralt shrugged, chuckling at the affronted sound she released her mouth pulled down into a scowl. Geralt smirked, twisting his arm around to pinch the pink apples of her cheeks before removing himself from his desk chair. 

"Mum likes him; Mum says he's just your type." Geralt stops in his tracks turning to face his daughter, his eyebrows raised as he stares, shocked by her statement. 

He crouches down to Ciri's level, one knee on the floor as he watches her carefully "Cirilla, you and your mother need to stop trying to meddle in my love life okay, I am perfectly happy." His large hand cups her chubby cheek softly, he gives her a warm smile, settling the young girl with a fond gleam in his eyes.

~~~~~ 

Once Cirilla had been settled for the night Geralt sat at the kitchen counter, the stove’s overhead light bathing the spacious, tiled room in a soft glow. "Yennefer." Geralt growled in greeting, not bothering with pleasantries. 

"Geralt, polite as always." The woman snarked, her voice ringing loudly in his ear as she greets him. 

"Will you stop meddling in my damn love life." Geralt whisper shouted, his voice dropping an octave as he spoke. 

"What love life exactly Geralt?" 

Geralt growled lowly in warning his frustration with the woman steadily rising the longer she spoke, her voice, unlike Jaskier's, grating on his frayed nerves. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger drawing in a deep calming breath. "Just let it go Yennefer," Geralt breaths out suddenly tired, his shoulders sagging as he sits with the phone pressed to his ear. 

~~~~~~~

Several days later, Ciri came bounding through the front door, launching herself into her father's lap as he sat reclined on the sofa watching tv. "Dad, guess what?" She asked excitedly, the teen vibrating with excitement as she spoke. He didn't bother with a response just raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "Jaskier, the guy that covered your song, he's my new music teacher!" She squealed her face flushed with exertion from the excited screeching and bouncing she was doing. 

Geralt had watched several more of the man's covers since seeing the cover of his song, Jaskier was relatively successful on youtube, he had gained a large following in a short amount of time. "What happened to Mr. Marx?" Geralt asked. He hadn't been aware Ciri's usual music teacher had left the school. 

"Dad" Ciri groaned, rolling her eyes exasperatedly, Geralt chuckled slightly over the girl's dramatics. "Who cares what happened to Mr. Marx! Jaskier is my new teacher, dad this is great." She squealed in his ear the shrill sound causing him to flinch away from the irritating sound. 

"Cirilla, calm down and stop screeching in my ear like a damn banshee." Geralt ordered rubbing a hand over his suddenly tired face. Geralt found it peculiar to think that the beautiful stranger must not live far from their apartment, his heart began beating heavily in his chest over the thought of possibly running into the man one day. 

Jaskier uploaded a new video weekly, Geralt had just finished watching the most recent video. The man had covered another one of his songs; however, it was a slightly more upbeat, more popular song but still not one of his mainstream hits. Geralt found himself idly wondering if he'd made the connection between Cirilla and him yet. Geralt could see boxes and various small homely items scattered around the floor in the background of the usually empty room, indicating he had recently moved into their area. Probably for the job. 

"You're still picking me up tomorrow right dad?" Ciri called from her room, across the house, the teen knew how much it aggravated him yet that never seemed to deter her. 

"Yes Cirilla, go to sleep." He shouted back, his deep voice loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. Since his divorce from Yennefer it was only the two of them left in the apartment, the large space often feeling empty, two people not enough to fill it. 

~~~~~~

Geralt arrived at the school late; he rushed from the car over to the school's courtyard, where his thought process was promptly derailed. Standing beside Ciri, was Jaskier, her new music teacher and the man Geralt had developed a hopeless crush on. 

He approached the two who barely noticed his arrival, both lost in conversation. Jaskier had a massive grin on his face, his fringe hanging messily across his forehead, his clothes rumpled from a long day of work.

"Dad!" Ciri called loudly as if he wasn't standing directly beside her. She smirked up at him, mischievously a trait she had unfortunately gained from Yennefer. The witch still making his life difficult years after their separation. 

"Cirilla." Geralt scolded the girl quietly for her obnoxious behaviour, Ciri looked up at him apologetically, her amber eyes glowing as she looked up at him. 

"Hi I'm - Oh my god." Jaskier gasped out, his dainty hand flying to cover his mouth as his jaw dropped in shock. His bright blue eyes stared up at Geralt beneath thick black lashes. 

"I'm Geralt, Ciri's dad." Geralt offered out his hand for the teacher to shake, flashing the man a small reassuring smile. Jaskier reached out, his small shaky hand grasping Geralt's in a gentle grip. 

"I love you." Jaskier blurted out his cheeks colouring," Oh my god I can't believe I just said that." Jaskier stated mortified, his blue eyes watery as his eyes bore into Geralt’s. "This is so embarrassing," the man laughed hysterically. 

Geralt motioned for Ciri to make her way to the car alone, waiting until the teen is out of earshot before calming the hysterical man down. "Hey, hey, it's alright." Geralt hesitantly pulled the man in his arms, leaving Jaskier enough time to decline the physical contact, not wanting to cross a line. 

Jaskier’s laboured breathing finally began to calm, the man pulling his head from where it leant against Geralt's firm chest. He stays tucked beneath the older man's muscular arms; his head pulled back far enough to meet Geralt's eyes. "I am so sorry; this is so unprofessional." Jaskier groaned, burying his head back into Geralt's chest to hide his embarrassment. 

Geralt chuckles, finding the man in his arms delightfully adorable, he was used to fans being overwhelmed by him, but none were quite like Jaskier. "How about you let me take you out?" Geralt asks timidly, Jaskier's small frame held against his chest. 

"God yes," Jaskier breathes out his heart thumping heavily in his chest as he curls further into Geralt’s secure hold, his anxiety petering off the longer Geralt held him safely in his strong arms. 

[mrsrhys23]

Snapshots 2

So this one is a belated birthday present 🎁 for @desireepow-1986

I’m using some prompts from 40 slice of life prompts

Paring: Colt x MC

Word count:

A/N: all characters belong to Pixelberry.

Permatag: @cordoniaqueensworld @desireepow-1986

RoD tags: @troublemakerinspace @lovehugsandcandy

#2: Morning routine

5am was the time Colt and Elie’s mornings started. They got dressed into gym gear, packed a bag and out the door they went. They were that couple that went to the gym together everyday but like Colt and Ellie liked to remind everyone it took a conscious effort to look that good and besides with all the junk food they scoffed in a day it was a miracle they both kept their impressive figures. So like every morning, they headed on out.

When they arrived at the gym they locked their bags safely into a locker, grabbed their bottles of water, headphones and phones and headed in. They both got onto the treadmill, adjusting the settings so it was going at both of their desired speed after putting on songs that make the both of them feel motivated, ready to get started.

At that time of the morning the gym was completely deserted, it was only Colt, Ellie and a few others. The morning was the perfect time to do this, Ellie found something quite nice about doing something so active first thing in the morning, plus she was locked into a competition with Colt on who could do the most steps in a week. So far, Ellie was winning, yes, she’d attached the thing to a whisk when she was baking, but she was still winning nevertheless.

After the gym, the pair headed home, showered, got changed and then ate breakfast. It was Saturday which meant they were having waffles that morning, hell, they had waffles most morning anyway, it had stopped being a treat quite a while ago. It was the weekend they had nothing to do so after breakfast the pair of them flopped down onto the couch in the living room and switched the tv on to watch some ridiculously pointless day time television.

#3:Doing laundry

Three messy children and two adults did produce a hell of a lot of laundry. The kids were young, Mia was two and the twins were four so they were at that age where they like to make it look like a bomb had gone off…daily. Seriously how hard was it not to spill stuff down your clothes?

The twins had convinced their father to take them to the park so he did, taking Mia along with them too so Ellie could do some housework.

It was the weekend. The mess seemed to multiply on the weekends, the twins were off school so they played with all their toys and didn't seem to comprehend how to put them away.

Ellie had just finished hoovering the living room after putting away all the toys that once littered the floor, when she heard the door be pushed open and Colt and the children sauntered in. Maddy was yelling, something about her father being irresponsible.

Ellie stood with her arms crossed after she finished gathering up the wire attached to the hoover as they all clambered in. Ellie looked straight to Colt, seeing his shirt covered in blood and it down his face. “What the fuck Colt?”

“Language there are children around,” Colt scolded.

“We’ve heard you say it before,” Maddy huffed, “We know not to repeat it.”

“That’s not the point,” Colt said.

“What happened?” Ellie demanded.

“Well….,” Colt started but his oldest daughter cut him off.

“Daddy decided to get on the swing and then jumped off but didn't land properly and face planted the floor, then his nose started bleeding, Dad started screaming, Mia was crying, people were looking at us, Elijah didn't really care and went over to the slide,” Maddy explained.

Ellie shook her head in complete and utter disapproval. It was like she had four kids, all incapable of looking after themselves and one of them was in his late twenties.

“Right,” Ellie started ready to restore order to the chaos that was her household. “ Maddy and Elijah sort out your toys and put them away properly in your rooms, Colt give me your shirt, put a new one on, clean your face and then entertain Mia.”

Luckily the children did as they were told and Ellie took her husband’s shirt after he had insisted that there was no way that she would get the blood stain out, which just all in technicality made her want to actually do it.

Ellie waltzed into their bedroom after the kids were all in bed to see Colt laying on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Oi,” she called, getting his attention. He looked up to her as she held up Colt’s once blood splattered shirt that was now back to its pristine white.

“H-how did you do that?” Colt asked, bewildered.

“What?” Ellie asked.

“The blood. How’d you get it out?”

“Why?” Ellie asked, with a raised eyebrow as she tossed him the shirt as she headed into their conjoined bathroom to start her nightly routine.

“I swear this is how less women get caught for murder,” Colt mumbled as ellie disappeared into the bathroom.

#9: Grocery shopping

Ellie pushed the trolley along with one arm as her other hand was latched on to her daughter's smaller one.

Maddy thought she had been sneaky by placing things into the trolley, thinking her mother hadn't noticed but of course, she had. They had just walked down the sweet aisle, Ellie not missing Maddy randomly picking things up and throwing them into the trolley, trying to hide things under other items that were meant to be in there.

“Maddy.” Ellie started as they made their way through the supermarket, Ellie picking up items off the list as they went.

The young girl looked up at her mother, “Yeah?”

“I know what you’re doing.” She was fighting back a laugh, she used to do the same thing when she was a kid. Rita and herself were locked into a competition to see who could get the most items into the trolley without their parents noticing. Unlucky for Ellie was that her father was a detective, he noticed things, so Riya always won.

It was either Maddy was taking after her mother or Colt had taught her this. “I don't know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.

“Really? So what’s all of this?” Ellie asked gesturing to the newly appeared items that she knew she definitely did not put in there.

Maddy shrugged, still going with act dumb approach. “I don’t know.”

“Sure? You really don't know how this happened?” Ellie asked, as she stopped to pick up a loaf of bread.

“Nope,” she girl said, popping the ‘p’ as she smiled up at her mother.

“Okay,” Ellie said, letting a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. Lying was wrong, she had taught her children that but it was kind of funny. She watched Maddy as they continued around the shop. Colt was definitely going to be getting a talking to when they got back home.

#13: Putting on a special piece of jewellery- (Thank you to the Anon who requested this one.)

Ellie sat perched on the end of her bed, the necklace in her hand as she turned the little metal heart over, reading the little engraved message into the silver. It was a beautiful necklace that she knew she’d always treasure.

It once belonged to her mother, who unfortunately, passed away little over five years ago. She remembered sitting on her lap and playing with it when she was a kid, she always did find it gorgeous.

The necklace was special, before her mother, her grandmother owned it and her mother before her. It had been in the family for a long, long time and consequently when her mother passed it was given to Ellie.

“What are you doing?” Colt asked, as he leaned against the doorway. “You’ve been gone for ages.”

She didn't respond and just continued to play with the piece of jewellery in her hand. She felt the bed dip as her boyfriend took a seat. “This was my mom's,” she told him, holding it up so he could see. “I guess I'm just...reminiscing. She always used to wear this, I never saw her without it actually,” she said with a small chuckle.

Ellie leaned her head against his shoulder. “I really miss her, Colt.”

“I know,” Colt sighed, he felt something be placed into his hand. He looked down and saw Ellie necklace, her looked back up to her, his eyebrow raised.

“The clasp is really stiff. I can’t do it myself,” she explained. Ellie turned away from him and held her hair out the way. She felt the cold metal of the necklace around her neck and the metal heart lay over her chest.

Colt fiddle with the clasp for a minute, muttering profanities under his breath. At long last he finally managed to do it. “There.”

Ellie reached up to touch the heart as she turned back to face her boyfriend, placing a kiss on his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered as he pulled back. Colt just gave her a small smile in response.

#15: Getting a haircut

Change wasn't something that Ellie liked all that much. She preferred things to stay the same.

Ellie headed to the hairdressers earlier that morning, she was overdue a haircut, it was getting out of hand, too long so it was becoming a nuisance. Mind she thought having shoulder length hair was a nuisance too, it blew in her face when it was windy, it always seemed to get into her food somehow. Frankly, it was annoying.

Ellie had pondered over changing her hair for a while.

After a few hours of meaningless small talk, Ellie finally escaped the hairdressers. She slightly regretted it. Her hair was now short and rainbow.

She wasn't sure what had come over her, it was just an impulse, a strange one at that but one nonetheless. The weird part was she actually kinda liked it. She was just worried about what Colt was going to think. It was one hell of a change.

Ellie made her way home, pulling her bobble hat further down to cover her ears- that was going to be something to get used to. She had never had such short hair before, it had never felt like her ears were going to fall off before.

Soon Ellie arrived back home, slipping off her hat, scarf and coat and hanging them up then placed her keys on the table and into the pot on the table.

“I’m home!” she called, making her way into the kitchen.

Colt was sat at the table, scrolling through his phone and sipping at his cup of coffee. Colt mumbled a hello, not looking up from his device. That was typical behaviour from him.

Ellie made her way over to the kettle and flicked it on, putting two sugars into a mug, a tea bag and grabbed the milk from the fridge as she waited.

“Been up long?” Ellie asked. Her appointment was early and Colt was still asleep when she left.

“No. Where were you?”

“Hairdressers- I told you last night,” Ellie groaned.

“Oh,” Colt mumbled. She actually debated whether or not he actually listened to her sometimes.

Ellie turned back around after staring daggers at the back of her boyfriends head to finish making her drink.

After she was done she took a seat opposite Colt. After scrolling through his phone for a few more seconds he looked up, taking a sip of his drink that soon ended up over the table and some of it over Ellie.

“Colt!” she yelled. Luckily the coffee had been sitting for a fair while and was just barely lukewarm. She wiped her face with her sleeve.

“Erm… Don’t take this the wrong way but….why does it look like a unicorn barfed on you? I’m not saying that I don’t like it, it's kinda cool, but why?”

Ellie shrugged,wrapping her hands around the ceramic mug in front of her to warm her still chilly hands. “I don't know...it just kinda happened. I was talking to Janet about having a bit of change and then this happened,” she explained, pointing to her hair. Her now quite funky looking hair. “Does it look okay?” she asked, twirling a piece of her new hair around her finger.

“It’s definitely different but...Yeah, it looks okay.”

“Really?” Ellie asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Colt nodded, “I like it.”

“Good,” she said, nodding her head as she took a sip of her drink, “So you've got an appointment next week...are you going to go rainbow too?”

Colt nearly spat out some more of his drink again. He swallowed it then looked up at her, wide eyed. “No, absolutely not.”

“It was worth a shot,” she shrugged.

#21: Birthday

Colt had been asking his girlfriend about what she wanted for two weeks now. He liked to be prepared when it came to Ellie but all she had said was that she wanted to spend it with him. He wouldn't deny he found that quite cheesy and felt a little bit of sick making its way up his throat, however, he did find it kind of adorable. Anyway, that’s what he did, anything to make his girl happy.

That morning, Colt got out of bed before Ellie and headed down into the kitchen to make her some breakfast. Boiled eggs and soldiers- her favourite.

After breakfast in bed was out of the way, Ellie dragged their blankets and pillows down into the living, switched on the tv and looked for something to watch while Colt was in the kitchen making some popcorn. They both settled down on the sofa, watched movies and ate junk food for the rest of the day, Just like Ellie had wanted.

#22: Going on vacation / #14: Packing for a trip

“Colt!” Ellie yelled from the bedroom. A few moments later Colt came running in, leaning against the doorway, smirking as he watched Ellie trying to close her suitcase. She was now laying on top of it whilst trying to do up the zipper, however, it wasn't working.

They were going away that evening and Ellie had decided she didn't need to pack before hand, like the day before like most people.

When she caught sight of him in the doorway she wasn't happy in any sense of the word. “Help me!” she barked.

Colt shook his head and made his way into the room. He sat on top of the case as Ellie worked to close it.

After it was closed, Colt was sure that wouldn't be for long since it looked as if it was ready to burst at the seams, he jumped off, looking at the case quizzically.

“Do you really need all of that?”

She stared daggers at him, “Yes!” She asked, startling her boyfriend slightly.

“Alright calm down. It was only a question,” he said, putting his hands up in defence.

Ellie wasn't the most stereotypical girl, she didn't pack her entire wardrobe when going on holiday or any of the things guys thought girls do, however, Ellie didn't remember the last time she had been on vacation so she had panicked slightly after looking through her closet discovering she had literally no suitable clothes for this trip and may have brought a few too many outfits. They were expensive so she was going to get some use out of them, even if her luggage now weighed more than her.

They were going to Zante in Greece. Ellie had been once but that was a long, long time ago. She was just really excited, they had been saving for ages for this trip and at long last they were going.

[hollandroos]

The Price We Pay | Chapter 2

Summary: A one night stand was all it took for your entire life to change. You're shoved into unknown territory, agreeing to fake date the prince long enough for his parents and the media to get off of his back only there are a few issues... one of them being that you really can’t stand each other.

Series Masterlist | Wattpad | Playlist

Words: 2.8k - Future chapters will be a lot longer, I just struggled a lot with this one.

Warnings: None really for this chapter

A/N: This chapter isn’t as jam packed but it was needed for the storyline– good/interesting things are coming for these two!! enjoy the rather timid storyline while it lasts. Chapter three is going to be FULL! Also I did decide to keep the Royal AU in this just because changing it proved more stressful then I originally thought and this just... works better in the long run!!

Agreeing to that deal had to be the best and worst thing you had done in your life because within minutes, Tom had left with no more than a thank you and an ‘I promise I’ll get back to you later.’ That was enough to leave you wide-eyed and overthinking. Everything that had happened in the span of the last ten minutes sounded nearly insane.

You then had to think about the fact that ‘dating’ Tom came with meeting his parents, the king and queen as well as having to keep up an act in the public eye. Sure you dealt with him the other night but both of you were drunk and needy, now you were fully sober and despising the idea of having to be a full-time girlfriend to someone you’d known for a few days. You felt a pang of what could only be a distaste for the prince and maybe you were just being a grump. Anyone else would have been overjoyed to be in this situation but not you.

In your eyes he wasn’t a royal– though you never gave them a second thought— he was just Tom, someone you met in a bar and happened to go home with.

He hadn’t fully informed you about what you’d gotten yourself into, not yet warning you of the extent of the media and his responsibilities but he didn’t have time. He left with his hood thrown over his head once more, looking like robin hood or that arrow character you’d seen in comic books. His promise to get back to you was also a promise to sort out plans, dates to please the public and fittings for expensive clothes that would make you look good enough to be seen with him.

Now, maybe Tom should have informed you of the extent of the situation because then you wouldn’t be heavily debating between further destroying his reputation and becoming the worst thing for his image, or actually doing what he wanted and becoming the picture perfect girlfriend. But rules were made to be broken, right? Even when it came to the royals?

What the fuck was he doing?

It did mean one good thing, however, that you didn’t have to go to work that day, or the day after and not have to worry about losing your job. You close the door with a slam once you could no longer see his coat dragging across the ground and slide the lock as you chuck your bag down and trudge back into the kitchen. You were going for a second bowl of cereal.

Poor Mallery was still staring in shock, her rake now hard against the pavement and you only hoped that she wouldn’t pull her back out picking it up.

“Who was at the door?”

You look over, seeing your roommate wobble into the room. Milly’s hair was all over the place like a birds nest, a robe thrown around her plaid pyjamas messily and she yawned unattractively, heading straight to the pot of not so freshly brewed coffee. The girl loved anything to do with drama and gossip, insisting that nothing good ever happened around here and she would have eaten your story up with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

You shrug your shoulders, groaning when you see that you were out of milk. “Just those kids from down the road trying to sell us cookies again.”

“Again? Maybe it’s because we bought three packs last time.” She snorts and sips her coffee, burning her tongue within the first sip and curses. Though you hoped it was because she’d tasted the scolding bitterness of the coffee instead of spotting the paper sitting on the dining table.

“Hey, you know the prince?” You question, staring at the closed door.

“Tom? Of course, I do, he’s a damn snack.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes that was somehow tied with the desire to tell her all about your night out– she’d find out eventually.

“What else do you think of him? Like, seriously.”

Milly shrugs her shoulders. “He seems cocky but definitely has a certain charm, you know? I think he’ll make a good king one day, but he actually has to settle down first.”

Sober you felt that Tom was a complete and utter asshole for getting you into this mess.

Maybe you were just too blind and full of unnecessary hatred to see that you got into it the second you dragged him out of that bar.

-

Tom had raced back to a house at a speed like no other, dodging the townsfolks and had gotten oddly close to knocking over a stall of fresh fruits and vegetables– why they were up at only near seven? He didn’t know. However, Tom was spoiled and had his fruits brought to him fresh every morning served on a silver platter with matching forks and knives. The only work the boy had done in his life was preparing to take the throne one day, which wasn’t much work at all, he was born for this.

He raced up to his room but it was hard with the number of stairs and irreplaceable sets of furniture that scattered around the house. The last thing he wanted to do was break something and upset his mother. Everything was either gold, white or silver despite Toms advice that was to add a little dark blue or red, he really had an eye for those two colours– obviously. He mutters good mornings to the maids as he went with one destination in mind: his room.

Tom already knew Harrison would be there waiting nervously. The boy was always more on-edge than Tom was, even growing up.

He tears the door open and as he expected, Harrison was there and practically jumped up off of the bed the second he walks in, eyes wide and unexpecting.

“Your dad's up and he’s not happy.” Harrison hisses, helping Tom slid the coat off of his shoulders and hung it up for the boy who fumbled around the room to find an outfit that his parents would appreciate. Anything was better than the dirty riding gear. “I told him that you went out for an early ride before breakfast.”

“When is he ever happy?” Tom scoffs. “Look, I sort of fixed things. They won’t be able to stay mad at me.”

In the hour or so that he’d been gone his bed had been made, clothes that were scattered across the floor had been picked up and his desk had clearly been organised. Tom didn’t ask if the maids had come in or if Harrison had been the one to clean but he had a hunch it was the boy that had been nervously sitting on his bed in desperate need of a distraction.

“What did you do?” Harrison wasn’t actually sure he wanted to find out, knowing Toms track record with impromptu plans.

“Come have breakfast with us and find out.”

“You know I’m not supposed–”

“This is a formal invitation from a royal, you can’t say no. My mum loves you, she won’t care.” Tom tells him, checking himself out in the mirror. Tom runs a hand through his curls, fluffing them up a little. “Besides, don’t you want to hear my little less-than-fantastic plan to steal the public's gaze from those stupid photos?”

“I can say no and besides, your dad scares me,” Harrison utters, speaking honestly and rightfully so, the king would scare anyone.

“You’re a fool.” Tom stops, grabbing Harrison's arm and tugs him towards the door. The maids stop and nod their heads respectfully as they see the prince. “C’mon, we’re having pancakes.”

Maybe Tom should have stopped and taken another moment to regain his breathing or think things through more thoroughly because he was acting on a whim, pulling things out of a hat as he went.

Maybe deep down he was scared– at least anxious.

-

Tom and Harrison stepped into the room carefully, each taking care as they discussed Tom’s stupidity in harsh whispers that only made the boys feel more unsettled.

He had been growing bored lately and asked the lords for something but not this– god, not this.

Tom could lie to his father but not his mother, possibly the most pure-hearted woman he’d ever come to know.

He felt terrible but knew this was the best option, the only way he could still look his mother in the eye after hearing what occurred.

The table was thick with tension and it was obvious before they even sat down but the second he did, he wished he hadn’t. Harrison obviously felt the same, choosing the seat closest to the Queen whom he could never not feel safe around.

It was right there in front of him, an obviously thrown around paper as well as his father who was as red-faced and angry as ever. The last thing the King wanted right after being woken up was to find out that his son had been causing more trouble.

His beard was greying, but still trimmed as neatly as ever and the crown that sat upon his head even as unnecessary as it was at this time of the morning remained on a slight angle, bits of dark hair sticking out from underneath.

Tom was probably going to look like him one day. He just hoped he wouldn’t be as miserable a king.

He knew it was coming before it happened– like a volcano that spewed spurts of ash before it erupted.

“Do you know how bad this is? What it could do to you?” There it was. “You’re a prince, Thomas. You can’t just go around doing this. We finally fixed things after– after her and now this?”

The king sighs, rubbing his wrinkly temples.

His dad held the paper with a clenched fist, practically ripping the pages that had been handed to him by one of his men first thing. Tom had to swallow harshly, not wanting to stare at the pictures again– it had already been a long morning because of them and he was tired at only seven thirty. Plus, they were reasonably explicit photos and his parents had seen them.

Oh fuck.

Somehow his night of fun and games had turned into one he dreaded thinking back to. What really did make him feel an ounce of satisfaction was seeing that you still wore little pieces of it, like the marks scattered along your neck and he suddenly felt uncomfortable in his seat remembering the scratches down his back.

“Look, it’s really not that bad–”

A plate of pancakes is placed in front of the prince and he nearly forgot about the argument upon seeing large chocolate chips and a side of blueberries. Harrison’s was similar, but instead of blueberries, it had strawberries. He was allergic to blueberries, they made his throat swell up and if they didn’t get to him on time, well, one can imagine what would happen.

A fist knocks the table and the Queen jumps back in response, cutlery clatters. “Not that bad? You have a mind of your own, boy, I tell you.”

“I know it looks really bad and you’re right, it is but there’s another side to the story, I promise.” He rushes.

“I don’t know what you can do to get yourself out of this mess, boy.” Words slithered through gritted teeth like venom. Harsh.

A sullen silence sat around the dining room, everyone including Tom too afraid to speak up and even his mother sat still, clutching her cutlery set for dear life as the older man's voice hit each of the four walls.

“It’s just– it’s not what it looks like.” He hurries out, knowing that the older man's temper was only limited at this point. Tom swallows thickly, trying to ignore his clammy hands. Tom glances at Harrison who felt that with every second, he was being dragged more and more into this mess that he hadn’t wanted to know about in the first place.

“Your Highness–”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tom spills the words quickly, muttering them so quick he swore they were barely audible.

He watches his mother's eyes widen dramatically, her face shifting from stern to confused to slightly excited. Tom wanted to smirk knowing that he had at least one of his two parents in the bag. Of course it wasn’t too hard for his mum to believe it considering she’d been pestering him to find someone for months now.

“Your– your what?” His dad stumbles.

“You and Mother were right. I finally sat down and thought about everything you were saying and I realised that I need to stop wallowing in self-pity. I met her a couple months ago at an event and we started dating about two weeks ago.”

Tom grit his teeth together, knowing that the completely made up story sounded just that… made up. Would his father really listen to him?

His mother leans forward in her seat, sparing her husband a glance and Tom plays with a fork. “Why didn’t you tell us?” She speaks, soft voice resonating with his.

“I wanted to make sure things were right before I told you, but now you know.” Tom shrugs his shoulders, the clothing he’d thrown on just moments after he’d gotten back from yours hanging off of his body. To his family, it would’ve been classed as untidy but they were all too distracted at this point. “The media ruined the surprise I guess– she’s really lovely.”

“Harrison, did you know about this?” Derek directs his gaze to Harrison who nearly chokes on his pancakes. The poor boy had been trying to ignore the conversation, not wanting any part of whatever mess his mate was getting himself in but had no failed drastically.

He coughs repeatedly, dabbing his face with a napkin. “Huh– no, no of course not. It’s just as a big of a surprise to me as it is to you, your highness.”

His cheeks ran red, searching for a quick escape that wouldn’t come.

“When do we get to meet this… Y/N?” Anne's gentle eyes remained on her son, heart fluttering at the thought of her son finally finding someone that made him happy.

“I can invite her over if that would make you guys happy but I’ll warn you, she’s nervous about meeting you.” Tom offers, he also offers a warm smile, picking around at his breakfast with the fork.

He was nervous about bringing an absolute stranger to the castle, not knowing how you’d act and if you’d make this mess worse than it already was. He made a mental note to get you to come over a few hours earlier to get a suitable dress fitted and to learn only the simplest manners and rules because god knows the ones in the castle were much stricter than most out in the town. Plus, he couldn’t ignore the mental image of you in a fancy– near princess— dress.

The look of uncertainty his mother sent him didn’t go unnoticed by Tom. She was ever so observant and rightfully so bringing up a son that enjoyed to cause trouble and sneak around when he thought no one was watching.

“Two days from now we want to meet this girl that you’ve been hiding from us.” Derek reaches over and pats Tom on the shoulder forcefully making the boy jolt forward slightly. “I’m proud of you, Thomas. Not only for listening to us and admitting that we were right but also for finding a girl and keeping her around.”

“Thank you, I really think you’ll like her.” He wore a fake smile, lips pressed together firmly. It was a concoction of lies that would one day get Tom into a world of trouble if this plan were to go south.

It was one thing to lie to your parents, but it was another to lie to the King and Queen– where the stakes were high and reputations were cherished.

Tom knew that this would also come with a selection of public appearances with physical affection such as hand-holding and acting happy with a girl he’d known for a little over two days. The boy could do that because if he wasn’t a prince he’d want to act in those shows downtown but you, however, that was a different story. How did he know that you wouldn’t let him down?

“Harrison? Can you please pass the syrup?”

Harrisons' cheeks were still flaming red, his eyes wide an alert as he painfully passed over the saucer to the king. He was already balls deep in this mess too and Tom sends him a look that says ‘We’ll talk about this later.’

Good fucking lord.

Leave comments or asks, reblog if you wish!! let’s talk about this chapter!

Part three!!

Everything tags: @cosmetologynerd @holland-ish @smexylemony @thewiseandfree @zendayacolemen @dej-okay @hollandsletters @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell @liz-gayllen @marvelismylifffe @lovelyh0lland @tomhollandandmarvelsworld @woah-jess @southsidefandoms @justannothermonday @its-claire-louise @sophiatomlinson23 @mockingjaygirl1221 @joyfullyjenny @damnhisfaceisliketheskyatnight  @bride-of-loki-odinson @in-the-corner-coffee-please @futuremrsb-r-main @spideyyypeter @saturn-aka-six @c0prolalia @buckykinz @ashtonsbandannas @dennasaur @amyyleblanc1999 @fnosidam @randomfangirl1701@maybeandperhaps @acciorinn @marvel-language @micki-smiles @justmesadgirl @converseskyline @niall2017 @gavemylifetotomholland @tomuchmarvel @leslieandjensen @painted-soulss @practicallylivesonline @mischiefmanaged49 @its-the-unknownspidey @holyrose96 @for-my-mind @mlxbm @erindillon11 @captainbuckyy @shawnandhisroses @converseskyline @smitten0-0kitten @parkeroos @whileinparis @unicornio-vomita-mierdas @draqcnheartstrinq @rainyboo-posts @mikalaka @petxrpxrker @tony-starks-ego @thedaydreamingwriter @peter-quackson @kateelyse96 @lesbian-jesus-jr @wheresmyquill @elyshugh @hollanderheart @tomshufflepuff @marvelismylifffe @tomsh0lland @obsessed-fandoms @girl-in-the-chair @trashqueenbitch @dramatic-and-young @honey-honey-5644 @parkerluvs @chingonaconcha @captainbuckyy @jes-sica1 @tomsfireheart @Rainbow-marvel @spideysimpossiblegirl @spideys-gurl @thomasstanley-holland @mlxbm @ixchel-9275 @parkerssweb @peter-parkersbb @tom-hollands-eyelash @starlightfound @vldlvj  @paradoxparker @lustfulcry  @mlxbm @musiclover1263 @justatheatredork @peterparkerscamera @fandomnerdsarecool @thequeensardine @cutesy-angst @httplayer @mischiefmanaged49 @loca-lola @softboyparkerr @desir-ae @dangerousluv1 @t-hotland @laucontrerasv @peter-parkersbb @whatdafricklefrackle @thatblondebelgiangirl @fairydustparker @they-call-me-le @jamiemac26

The price we pay: @ambiibambi24 @thiccholland01 @writingisamood @mountainsforwords @joyfullyje @sithskywalkers @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @ohmyquackson @nerfariousporpoises @httplayer @myhopeisinfinite @omfgitscindyy @hollandfieldblurbs @incandescentflor @mlxbm @thescarsweleave @justmesadgirl @dramatic-and-young @thescarsweleave @ramen-tically @a--smallgirlinabigworld @spacedoutsher @thiccholland01 @in-the-potterhead-know @marvelousxtsh @popluckbih @ctrlyouthmendes @vldlvj @peruvian-bae @heaveninholland @jld20047 @nikkipea @darlingtommy @everythingeverywherelistening 

[burningbridgesblacknblue]

Growing Pains

Summary:  Michael and Emma were made for one another. When it comes time for Michael to begin his mission, they find themselves learning new things about each other they don't necessarily like. Things they never learned to cope with because they were always together. Distance leaves room for growing pains.

Word Count:  2,489

Pairing: Michael/OC

A/N:  So this is my first crack at AHS fiction. I got bit by the Langdon bug. Anyway I want to note ahead of time that this story will loosely follow the show by it's timeline. So long hair Michael will appear just not right away. Also my this story will be updated on my Ao3 first you can find it ----> here

Ever since he was young I knew Michael was strange; it never bothered me I liked all sorts of people and the poor boy needed a companion he could trust. I had been somewhat odd myself with being able to read auras and emotions, our oddities were what drew us together. Very much like a moth to the flame the devil’s son had ensnared my heart and everlasting trust.

None of it in vein however, as much as I needed him he needed me ten fold. Afterall he was by all means a child starved for undivided attention and affection. What with his grandmother being gone and his actual father a supernatural being who couldn’t be summoned for just anything; Mead and I were the only people he had.

Mead his mother figure and I his lover who taught him to appreciate everything his gorgeous eyes laid gaze on. Mead would say I was chosen by Michael for a purpose and while that may be true I was never one for all that wishful thinking. We were both lonely souls in need of love.

Love he gave like a flowing river all Michael knew how to do was to give such a trusting love that in the past led to his heart being shattered into pieces. One could almost describe it as suffocating if they didn’t know how to receive and reciprocate the intense feeling. I guess it’s an acquired taste my darling Michael and I shared. A flavor those around us seemed to understand. Whether they didn’t want to cross Michael or they truly believed I was some destined partner, they never interfered.

Such a strange family we made but a family nonetheless.

Until Michael’s destiny began to rear it’s impatient head in our faces. Michael was going to leave our comfortable dwelling to go to some nonsensical school where he would sow the beginning seeds of the end.

Which was all fine and dandy except for the part about me not being able to attend, oh and the indefinite amount of time we’d be apart. Mead did her best to give me some courage, you know the whole ‘hail Satan’ bit but I didn’t give a solid damn about the bigger picture when I only thought about myself and my loneliness.

It was the cause of my current mind clearing walk I was on in the woods behind the small town we occupied. Ms.Mead and Michael had left to attend to the preparations of his new home leaving me at the mercy my own insecurities; a terrible way to the pass the time quite honestly.

Everything that could possibly go wrong while we were apart traveled through my mind at warped speed. It so dreadfully stressed me out I had to light a cigarette. I’m sure I looked like an Edgar Allen Poe poem come to life, dressed in an all black dress that reached my feet and my witch brim hat, chunky boots completing the ‘I’m already dead’ ensemble. My aesthetic cleverly paired with my emotions for once.

I sighed out the smoke in my lungs; this blows.

I did whatever I could to shake these nasty thoughts away knowing the extent of Michael’s loyalty once given, it was just too hard to think about living in this sad little humdrum town without my own sunshine.

It had stumbled upon me to maybe pursue a goal of my own considering the minimal amount of time society had left on this earth. Perhaps get that bachelor’s in art I had always wanted. Why not? I looked at my phone surfing the web briefly to see if it would be easy enough to enroll this late in the game.

Money shouldn’t be a problem since my parents had plenty and it was all left to me.

Yeah this was good if we have to walk separate paths for awhile why not pursue something productive on my own?

I couldn’t wait to get started on my application; I nearly sprinted back to the average looking house. When I reached the backdoor I kicked off my boots, not wanting to get the scolding I knew I’d receive from Ms.Mead for tracking mud through the house. I raced up the stairs to my room and dive bombed my laptop.

Rapidly looking up schools for my desired major. I settled on Julliard, why not shoot for the stars when the end of the world was rapidly approaching?

When I submitted my application and old admissions essay I felt very confident. My intuition had never really led me astray before, a spot in this school was as good as mine.

“What are you smiling about?”

Ripped from my sudden happiness I gasped at Michael in the doorway. He looked handsome his golden locks well managed, and clothes Ms.Mead laid out for him that morning, a black button up and well fitting trousers. His smile mimicked my own and reflected in his blue eyes.

“Just accomplishing something I’ve been putting off.”

“Oh?” he chuckled at my enthusiasm, “And what would that be?”

“I don’t want to jinx it,” I closed my laptop and set it aside, “I’ll tell you if it really happens.”

Michael eyed me skeptically before he gestured me with a hand to go with him, “Ms.Mead says dinner’s ready.”

I nodded scrambling off the bed the sound of food much too inviting to ignore. As I passed by my boyfriend I linked our fingers together. Leading him down to dinner not once missing the look he gave my laptop. ***

I had checked the mailbox consistently the next two weeks like a mad person. Disappointment clouding over my mind every time the letter I was looking for wasn’t there. No news was good news but still I had to know if I made it in case I needed to take my secondary school seriously.

However on this particular day as I pulled into the driveway behind Mead, I just knew it was the day I’d find out if I made it. Slowly I inched the latch off the mailbox, with shaky hands, I grabbed the envelope I needed. My heart was thumping in anticipation as I ripped the letter open. With one eye open I read the news I so longingly wanted to hear.

With much excitement I let out a squeal.

“What is it?” Mead came rushing to the door her dart gun in her hand.

“I got in!”

“Got in?” she questioned taking notice of the paper in my hand, “Got in where?”

“Juillard!”

Mead’s face wasn’t as excited as I had hoped it would be, she looked at me like I had committed blasphemy. The light of my happiness began to dull when she read over the paper.

“Emma you didn’t clear this with me,” she said with stern disapproval, “Michael won’t be able to handle you going so far away…”

“Why can’t I go to school? He’s going to be gone.”

“We are the only people he trusts we are the only people who truly understand him,” She said simply, “He needs to know we can come to his aid at any time he needs us.”

“He knows that already.”

Mead firmly grabbed my arms, “School is a distraction from our mission, from Michael. He will stray from his path if he thinks you are going to forget about him.”

“Who said anything about forgetting him Ms.Mead?” I retorted haughtily, “I love him he knows that and if he needs me while he’s away then I will certainly go to him.”

“Honestly girl it’s not that simple…” the shorter woman replied on a sigh, “Talk to him if he says it’s alright than what objections could I have?”

The frown on her face really made me wonder if Michael really wouldn’t be happy for me. Mead knew him well sometimes even more than me and if her expression was grave then there wasn’t much hope that he’d go for this.

Which really wasn’t fair I was still largely independent and to be denied something so casual as going to school; there was going to be a fight I just knew it.

“Is he home?”

She nodded lethargically as if in thought, “He’s resting upstairs.”

With a quick thanks I took hold of the letter and proceeded to Michael’s room; separate rooms were a must. Not because we were too young to share but because his body heat was insufferable at times. Especially after he spent more energy than he should have.

The door was left open a crack and I could see those gorgeous curls billowing out on his pillow as he slept with the blanket covering just his torso. Pondering about what he may have done to become so tired I stopped myself, it wasn’t fair to wake him up over something this frivolous. I could wait until he got up.

My pride just wanted to prove to Mead that the big deal she was making out of this was in fact not an issue at all.

With an internal sigh I just scooted into the other side of his bed. Rearranging the blankets so that he could move freely and myself didn’t have to be trapped under them. I rested my arm on his naked skin and could feel through my long sleeve shirt the heat he was radiating. Just how much power had he used?

I had almost dozed off beside him when I felt him shift so that he was cradling me, “What is it?”

His voice filled with sleepy innocence, I smiled and snuggled into his warmth. It was highly welcomed for once.

“Mead and I had a small disagreement.”

He nuzzled the top of my head with his cheek, “About what?”

“I applied for art school and she told me I can’t go…”

His body stiffened beneath mine, “Well I’m sure she had a good reason Emma.”

I refrained from huffing rather disappointed that he wouldn’t take my side over Mead’s. I guess I just hoped he would’ve taken mine although all opportunity hadn’t been lost quite yet. He didn’t outright object to the notion.

“Not really,” I retorted with exaggerated sadness, “She said it’s because you’d say no…”

Michael’s sigh rumbled in my ear, “You never mentioned this to me how could I say no?”

With a smile I placed a kiss on his bare chest, “I didn’t want to say anything incase I didn’t get in.”

“So I’m assuming you got in?” he asked as if he were no longer interested in the conversation. He always behaved this way when things weren’t going his way. It irritated me a little bit, why was no one happy for me?

“Yes I did well almost,” I mumbled the last part, “They just want a current piece submitted.”

He only hummed in acknowledgment so I took that as my queue to continue.

“I wanted to use the one that was inspired by you. It’s my favorite.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Once I submit the painting Michael I’m as good as accepted,” I reminded him gingerly, “Are you okay with this?”

I felt him shrug, “It’s not as if you’re leaving the area.”

Oh man did guilt flood my insides at those nonchalant words. My self-centered need to preoccupy my time while he was gone tried to coerce my mind into just agreeing. Michael trumped Mead and if he said yes...I could always iron out the details later. My more thought out, organized self wanted to tell him the truth but I could feel Michael’s anxious state wrapping me up like a toxic blanket. Mead was right, as much as I hated to admit it. If I indulged this information about the school being in New York he’d rescind his noncommittal approval immediately. Against my better judgment I let the silence speak for me with a kiss on his cheek.

“May I go back to my nap now that you’re happy?”

With a quick hum of approval I allowed him to rest. I waited until he was deep in his nap before detaching myself. The aforementioned heat now unbearable, I quietly tucked him back in and tiptoed out of his room.

Mead was cooking something for dinner in the kitchen and looked at me as if I were a petulant child.

“You woke him up didn’t you?”

I only shrugged my shoulders as I nibbled on the stew she made, she scolded me for being impatient but then changed directions.

“Emma he used so much energy‒no so much power just for our mission today‒to wake him for such a trivial matter is childish…” she trailed off turning back to her cooking on the stainless steel stove.

“He said he was fine with me going to school Ms.Mead.”

She glanced over her shoulder at me with a small smile, “Did you tell him where the school was kid?”

“Yes.”

I did my best to hide any mannerisms that would give away my lie. Standing casually against the counter, my arms lax and holding my weight. She scrutinized my visage along with my body language but I sensed she didn’t buy it. She was apprehensive and on alert.

“I’m not going to get in the middle of this,” remarked gruffly wiping her brow, “I will say this though you know how fragile he his; lying to him will make him think something much worse.”

Pensively I bit my lip, “Why do I have to wait around here and think about being alone? The end is coming right? I want to get this degree before Julliard is a pile of rubble and since Michael will be busy why can’t I be too?”

“Emma,” Mead omitted a matermal-like sigh, “Michael isn’t leaving us out of spite so there’s no need to spite him. Besides who will keep me company while I wait on Michael to complete each step?”

I gave her a small smile, “Ms. Mead it isn’t to spite him‒”

She let out a snort, “I’ve been around long enough to know the signs of a girl who feels dejected.”

“Miriam,” I declared her name like a bargaining tool, “I want this for myself too. Call me human but I want to be able to achieve one regular thing before it’s too late.”

“I won’t interfere as I said.” She concluded flatly, “I’m warning you if Michael strays from his path you can kiss this school goodbye.”

I had won. Actually won, I was surprised and Mead was too. Her aura was predominantly blue, it only ever showed when she was near Michael. It meant she loved me too. It was perplexing she never truly thought about anything but our mission. I smiled my own aura inflamed with a playful yellow.

“Thanks Miriam.”

“Don’t thank me yet kid,” she commented, “You’re not out of the woods yet.”

[bantan]

JP FC Vol. 2 - My Biography with BTS: SUGA edition

BTS JAPAN OFFICIAL FANCLUB MAGAZINE VOL.2

Translation @kocchi Raws @szkvr For full images send me a follow request at @szkvr! DO NOT REPOST SCANS ANYWHERE

My Biography with BTS: SUGA edition

A corner to look back on how the members were raised. Volume 2 features the calm and fatherly presence, SUGA!

Growing from a cheeky child to a boy who loved books

I was born in Daegu, the third city of southern South Korea, and raised there until I moved to the capital. I was a very normal child when I was younger. I liked to fool around, so I don’t think my kindergarten teachers liked me very much. (laughs) I remember they’d scold me to “Be careful!” a lot. I liked sports and I was good at running. I was chosen as a relay athlete from primary school all the way to high school. Study-wise, I was above average.

I liked to play with my friends outside when I was young, but that changed as I grew older. You know how when most kids go out, they just gather in the park and don’t do anything in particular? I didn’t like that, so I stayed in my house on the weekends more often. My mother even told me “You should go outside with your friends once in a while.” (laughs)

I have an obsession for collecting things, and when I was young I used to collect tons of books. I wanted to become one of those refined, educated adults, and I was at that age for that kind of behaviour. I read novels, poems, essays, newspapers… mature genres that didn’t suit my age. Also, for some reason, up until middle school I had the habit of reading things from the last page backwards. Even now I read books on occasion. I can process lumps of text at once, so my reading speed is really fast.

My memory of my first love in primary school… doesn’t exist. I really don’t have one. The further you go from Seoul to the rural regions, the more conservative everything is. The boys and girls didn’t talk to each other in the school I went to. Just being near a girl was super embarrassing, so I really didn’t even talk to them.

Started making songs in middle school after meeting hip-hop

The first time I became interested in music was when I saw a Korean artist named Stony Skunk on TV. It was the era of ballads at that time, and on a music show of 18 groups you’d get maybe 10 ballads, 5 idols, and 3 other genres. They were one of those other 3. It was really cool how they were different from the others. I didn’t have any interest in music until then, but thanks to Stony Skunk I started listening to hip-hop and reggae music. I also received influence from Epik High. It was just around then that the MP3 player came out, but I listened to them on my Panasonic CD player.

At the same time I started listening to music like that, I also started to write lyrics. It wasn’t like anyone told me to, but for some reason I felt like I had to. I started making raps in primary school and started making music in middle school. Back then, there was no one around me that liked hip-hop… Now it’s really popular in South Korea again, but back when I started listening it was like an outdated genre from the past. I was probably the only one in the town that rapped. My friends would complain when I rapped at karaoke. You know how hip-hop has gestures where you move your hands? They teased me for that too.

But I’ve always liked hip-hop and I believe it was in my second year of middle school when I stood on the stage for the first time at the school festival. I performed Dynamic Duo’s “Go Back” with a friend. I didn’t like standing in front of other people, but for some reason I felt like I had to at the time. I wanted to show the rap I practiced too… even though I was really bad. (laughs)

I actually wanted to go to an arts high school, so I composed classic songs when I was in middle school. But the school fees were so expensive, I ended up going to a regular high school. I told my father “I’ve already done enough music, so I’ll study hard in high school,” but I didn’t end up doing that. (laughs)

Properly began rapper activities after joining a local crew

In middle school I only composed for my own benefit, as a hobby. I seriously started creating songs after changing my MIDI program. In my first year of high school, I gave my song to a person who was like a teacher to me to listen to, and they really liked it. That was when they introduced me to a hip-hop crew called D-town, which I joined. That song was like a new age beat, a hip-hop beat song like Nujabes. By the way, that teacher who praised me ended up going to Berklee College of Music and is now a music director for movies.

I started rapping properly once I entered the crew. While I had dabbled with rap from primary school, there was no one around me who rapped too so I thought I was the best. (laughs)

So that’s how I started activities in the Daegu underground. But even then I knew that I couldn’t feed myself by doing music underground. Many of the hyungs who did music with me back then were around 10 years older than me, some of them even in their thirties. The hyungs would do part-time jobs as they did music, and that looked really tiring to me. Even during our lives, it was difficult getting 100 people in the audience, and I hated that… I thought if I succeeded, I could be the bridge between the underground scene. There are so many cool people doing music in the underground, I wanted to become famous and put them in a better environment, I wanted the world to know about my hyungs music.

It was at this time that I found out Big Hit was holding an audition in Daegu. The only thing I knew about it was that it was a company the composer Bang Shihyuk had created, but I tried out anyway. The next day, I was immediately informed that I passed. From what I heard later on, he took one look at me and decided I passed right away. Even though I was really bad at rapping then too. (laughs)

An unexpected trainee life after first arriving at Seoul…?

I came to Seoul in my second year of high school on November 7, 2010. I remember it even now.

I joined the company not because I wanted to rap, but because I wanted to compose. That’s why I didn’t have to dance, could leave rapping to the people good at it, and just focus on becoming a producer myself. Yet it ended up completely different, huh? (laughs) Back then, the company planned to have a full rap group rather than an idol group, but that all changed. The members back then were RM, J-HOPE, and me. And also i11even and IRON. If we had debuted like that, I believe our rap would have been good but the group would have failed. (laughs)

The future SUGA aims for as a rapper and producer

The reason why I was able to pursue the path of music like this is hugely thanks to my brother, who is 4 years older than me. He started liking hip-hop because of my influence, but the only person in my family who didn’t oppose me taking the audition was my brother. They didn’t like the fact I was doing musical activities in the first place, and my relatives would say “You, doing music? Study more instead,” to me. That’s why the only one I let listen to the songs I made was my brother. I also told my brother first when I passed the audition. We really get along so well, like best friends. I normally don’t drink alcohol, but the only time I make the exception is to drink with my brother.

Of course, everyone in my family now supports me. The relatives who told me to study now ask for my signature. (laughs)

I still have a desire to do producing activities from here on out. I don’t have any greed towards the centre position, I just want to do music. I don’t have any interest towards the entertainment industry, so while everyone else wants to act or go on variety shows I don’t want to at all. (laughs) But first, I believe BTS has to become number 1 in both South Korea and Japan. And I want to aim to be the best in both rapping and producing. It may take some time, but we have to do it.

BTS JAPAN OFFICIAL FANCLUB MAGAZINE VOL.2

Translation @kocchi Raws @szkvr For full images send me a follow request at @szkvr! DO NOT REPOST SCANS ANYWHERE

[backtothestart02]

‘What do you mean you took the twins on a run?!’

Drabble 6 - The Flash Season 5 Countdown - 5 Days Left!

(OMG. This is the furthest thing from a drabble ever. Almost 2,000 words. Def going to have to upload as a one-shot too. Lmao. Enjoy!)

Iris stood at the kitchen sink doing dishes, a smile on herface as she scrubbed away and then set each dish on the nearby towel to dry.

It wasn’t that she was particularly in love with doing dishes– or cleaning for that matter. Barry didn’t excessively use his speed outsideof his superhero duties, but when he was home he often did do whatever cleaningwas necessary at super speed, and she was incredibly grateful for it.

He’d been gone all day though, and the twins were still inschool. They both had extracurriculars after school, and the sun was startingto set. She’d taken a step back long ago to being front and center in STARLabs, so she didn’t know what crimes or near-crimes had the Flash and BarryAllen stepping in that day. Regardless, his day was obviously a long one. Shefigured the least she could do was the household chores she usually left tohim.

And besides, her life was really good. She had anattractive, amazing, superhero husband who looked at her every day as if he wasfalling in love with her all over again. She had two beautiful speedsterchildren, who thankfully listened to their parents and didn’t use their speed publicly– at least not yet. And she had a thriving investigative journalism career. Shehad a handful of great, loyal, brilliant friends, and three amazing siblings,as well as the best father in the world. While she didn’t believe herself trulyin need of a mother any longer, Cecile West had become what felt like a veryendearing, protective older sister. Probably the closest thing to a mom she hadafter Francine died, and before that too if she was being honest.

Her life was so full. In quiet moments like these, it waseasy to smile.

The whoosh behind her caused her hair to float around hershoulders. She quickly dried her hands and turned around, eager to greet herhusband and plant a kiss on his weary face.

But that was not who she saw when she turned around.

“Don?”

His eyes were alight with excitement. Before he couldrespond though, his sister sped into the room.

Sped. Using super speed.

“Dad took us on a run!”

Iris’ eyes widened and then narrowed, because a beat laterBarry was in front of her, looking flushed with groceries in his arms.

“Hey, Iri-” His face fell when he saw the look his wife wasgiving him.

“Nora told her!” Don burst out. Nora smacked him. “Ow!”

“So, it’s true,” Iris said.

“Kids.” Barry gestured, and they both sped away.

“No, let them stay. They should hear what their fa-”

But the kids were gone before she finish her sentence,further infuriating her.

“I took them on a run,” Barry admitted slowly.

Iris’ eyes blazed furiously. She knew it already from whatNora had said, but she was hoping it had been a lie to get her father introuble. She should’ve known better. Nora was a daddy’s girl.

“What do you mean you took the twins on a run?!”

“Just to do a few errands,” he said hurriedly, setting the grocerybag down on the counter so he wouldn’t end up losing items from his armsflailing about. “No crime scenes or anything like that. Central City has beenpretty crime-free this afternoon.”

She glared at him. Hasit now.

“I was tied up at CCPD doing forensic stuff all morning, butthen I picked up the kids from school and thought I’d surprise them.”

“I thought they had extra curriculars,” she said.

He shrugged. “The kids said they were cancelled for the day.”

“Did they say this before or after you announced you’d bespeeding around the city all afternoon?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it, then aworried expression crossed his face, followed by a guilty one when he met hereyes again.

“Oops?”

She sighed. “Barry, we talked about this.” She ran a handthrough her hair.

“I know.” He followed suit. “I’m sorry. I thought it wouldbe fun.”

“What would be fun? The kids don’t have suits. If anybody –literally anybody – spotted them when they stood still for even a second andconnected the dots, the news would spread. Eventually your enemies would becometheir enemies, and our kids’ lives would be in danger.”

“I know, I know…you’re right.”

“Am I?”

“Yes…” He sighed.

“Then, why would you do this?”

He shrugged, not saying anything.

“No, you have an opinion. Tell me what it is.”

“I don’t know, Iris. It’s a…”

“Speedster thing?” She raised an eyebrow. He flushed. “I wasa speedster once too, you know.”

“Yeah, but like…for a day.And years ago.”

She crossed her arms, daring him to continue.

“Listen, Iris, I’m not-” He took a breath and tried again. “Youused your speed right away when you got it, right? Like, within the hour.”

She nodded. “Yeah, so?”

“I did too. And I didn’t do it just in private. I mean, whatcould I possibly do that would be that fun? Eat really fast? Vibrate my voice?Brush my teeth at mach speed?”

“I assume you have a point.”

“Nora and Don have had speedster genes since the moment theywere born. They’re seventeen, and they haven’t been on a run before. I know it’sfor their safety, and I don’t want anything to happen any more than you do. But…there’sa difference between running in circles in the speed lab at STAR Labs andracing through the city, feeling the wind in your face, aware of all of yoursenses. Just you and the road, it’s…paradise.”

Iris sighed softly, feeling herself caving.

“To be deprived of that for as long as they have? I can’timagine how…devastating that is. Especially when they see me not being deprivedof that on a daily basis.”

“You’re the Flash!” she burst out.

“And they’re the Flash’s kids,” he responded.

She said nothing.

He came to her, running his hands up and down her arms.

“Look, all I’m saying is that maybe…”

“We ask Cisco to construct them suits?”

“He’d love it.”

“I don’t want them getting distracted with being superheroesyet, Barry. I want them to graduate high school first. And can’t they like…Idon’t know, run where no one can see them?” She paused before adding, “That isn’tSTAR Labs?”

He grinned slowly. “Like out in the country maybe?”

“There are fields…hills… They could practice running onwater on the lakes out there.”

His smile was immovable. “Look at you wanting our childrento be speedsters in public.”

“In an isolated public!” she cried. “And I thought youwanted them protected too!”

“I do,” he said. “I definitely do.”

“But?”

“But I relate to them as a speedster too, Iris, not just asa dad.” He shrugged. “Just…imagine having the need to move all the time andbeing forced not to because everyone around you doesn’t share that feeling, andyou might be in danger if you try anything.”

She considered that.

“They don’t do anything because we tell them not to, buttheir insides are screaming. You should’ve seen how excited they were when Ijust suggested it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they were.” She pursed her lips. “Okay. Theycan go on runs in the country, every day if they want, but…they have to atleast have a mask. Just in case.”

He grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

She rolled her eyes and brought his face down to hers.

“You’re impossible,” she said, and sealed her words with akiss.

“Is it safe to come down yet?” Don called from the top ofthe staircase.

“Only if you want to make dinner!” Iris called back.

Neither of the children appeared.

“I guess you’re on your own, Mr. Allen,” she said, leaningback against the countertop.

“I think I can handle myself,” he said, piling all theingredients up that made for his wife’s favorite dish concocted by GrandmaEsther.

Her eyes widened, and he met them knowingly.

“Seriously?”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You are- You are-”

She pulled him to her and jumped onto him, wrapping her legsaround his waist.

“Was this your back-up plan if I didn’t cave to your wishes?”

He shrugged innocently. “This and one other thing.”

Her jaw dropped, and she laughed, then latched her lips ontohis again.

“Still impossible. So totally, unbelievably impossible.”

He smiled into the kiss, bracing them against the nearest hardsurface, which just so happened to be the fridge. Iris gasped, breaking away.

“Ah- It’s cold.”

He smirked. “I know what’s not.” His eyes darkened.

“Barry.” Her voice dropped. “The kids are right upstairs.And they’re not little anymore.”

He lowered his lips to hers. “Then you better be quiet.”

She gasped, but he swallowed it. Their kisses grew moreintense, until she was aching for him inside of her and any thought of theirchildren was the farthest from her mind.

Twenty minutes later, Don entered the kitchen.

“Hey, Dad, Nora and I were wondering when din-”

And then he was gone, breathing hard when he returned to hissister’s room.

“Well? What did they say?” Nora asked, scooting to the edgeof their bed. “Are you okay?”

She got up to go to the door, since he wasn’t responding,and frankly, she was hungry. He barred the exit with his arm, and she looked athim, confused.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t go down there,” he managed.

“Why?”

“They’re not finished,” he said, looking traumatized.

“With dinner?”

“With each other.”

Her eyes widened as his meaning dawned, and she sat back onher bed. She hadn’t seen what her brother had walked into, but somehow theimage was clear as day in her mind.

“Oh…my God.”

“Don? Nora?”

The twins exchanged horrified looks.

“…yeah?” Don shot out hesitantly.

“Did you want…take-out?”

The both sighed in relief.

“Yeah, that’s fine!” he called back.

A beat of silence, then from Barry, “You want to get ityourself?”

Giddy with delight, their parents’ compromising positionforgotten, both Nora and Don were out of there in a flash.

Iris scolded Barry as soon as they left, accusing him ofusing her desire for him against her.

“It’s the last time, I promise!” he said, laughing.

She smacked him, and he feigned hurt.

“I doubt it,” she mumbled, but they finished what they’dstarted and were fully composed by the time their children had returned.

As if their teenage son hadn’t caught them having sexagainst the refrigerator before Barry had so much as done anything besidestaken the ingredients out of the grocery bag.

“It’ll still be good tomorrow,” he reasoned.

Iris didn’t complain.

[hazbinextgeneration]

(Special thanks to @palettepainter  for the pic idea. Mimzy and Alastor belongs to Vivziepop.)  What was a mother? She had heard many definitions of the word by the time she was just a couple years old. Some said it was the one who birthed you or gave you life. Sometimes it was a silly woman at the orphanage who signed those silly legal papers. Some even said it was the person who raised you. In that case a mother could be your aunt, sister, grandmother, cousin, friend, stranger.... But it could also mean your father or another male could be your mother. Anyone could be labeled as a mother, father, guardian,....Parent. But sometimes a mother was simply the woman who married your father. But she didn't trust this woman... Oh yes. This plump little woman may have been older but she was truly the more powerful of the two. The blood of Kaycee and The Radio Demon flowed through her every being, her brain twisted but not broken. She was obviously the better one of the two in everyway.....Then WHY in all of Hell's nine circles would her father choose to cling himself to this sorry excuse of a mate? She had no powers, their same interests were very little in her eyes, and she obviously held no true status beyond her well off voice. Yet he coddled and fonded over her like he would her, but in a more spouse way. Anyone would fall for her father, and who could blame them? He was powerful beyond any mere mortal soul, tyrantical. And a loving father behind closed doors. For a long time Alastor had been her everything. Her father. Her mother. Her whole home and world. She never even laid eyes on her true birther. But oh well. He always said to smile through it all. She was going to be the next tyrant of hell alongside him. They would do a many wonderous things.... But that dream all but crashed the day he met...Mimzy. The woman who broke into her father's emotions and made him swoon over her. Like a love struck gentlemen straight from church. She would never stoop for someone so low like her. Then why did he? She couldn't understand it. Maybe it was because she was still young, not even ten years old yet. But this woman was turning her world against her. It got worse when he fathered two others like her. Not as powerful or perfect as her but just as twisted minded. Then all came crumbling down. Stories, lullibies, toys all for them. These two little deer that she shared half blood with...she didn't mind of course. She took care of one other also of her father's blood. Hannibal fit in with her. She wouldn't have minded these two.....If they didn't resemble her. The female was blonde and the male had her disgustingly pink eyes.....But they were still part of her.  SHE WAS STEALING HER WORLD. SHE WAS TRYING TO MAKE HER PART OF IT THROUGH THIS. IT WOULDN'T HAPPEN IF SHE DID SOMETHING. Killing wasn't an option. Despite seeing her father hunt, she still was too young for her mind to take a death by her hands. And he'd know who it was soon. Blackmail neither. She knew nothing that her father didn't like about this woman. Perhaps fake evidence? Hmmm. "Queeny, Sweetheart. Have you been digging through the dirty laundry again?" There it was. That sickly pink eyes insect with that sweet tone her father used with her. Why she bothered trying to confuse her was beyond her. She gave a chuckle at the sight of her wearing one of her father's oversized shirts. Queeny usually got anxious when Alastor went on one of his trips for days on end. And the nervous fawn would cling to something with his scent on it. It helped calm her knowing his scent was on her. Not many demons would dare try anything sending his scent to her. Usually it was an old shirt, but she looked absolutely adorable watching the toddler scamper around and sometimes falling over the big shirt when Mimzy tried to catch her. "You know you're not supposed to wear dirty shirts." "Father's dominant scent keeps me safe. It's this natural thing called survival of the fittest.~.....It's the reason he puts his scent on you." She said the last part with an undertone, but it didn't sound threatening with her little squeaky voice.  She chuckled and walked her way over towards her, "But that's shirt's dirty. Come on. It's nap time anyways." "I have no need for those I'm afraid. I can be awake for weeks on end." "I don't doubt that, but you're 'awake' needs a break now. Come on." "No. I  have no desire to." That didn't stop this woman from walking towards her. Amused smile and heels clicking. ......SH*T!! She quickly turned and bolted down the hallways like she did many times before. Her fawn legs easily giving her more speed, but unfortunately her father's oversized shirt making her stumble over half her steps and instead of a run, she ended up quickly stumbling about like a newborn fawn. Her father's mate didn't even have to run to be right behind her. Her amused smile never faded as the just casually walked behind the toddler waiting for her to just tire out or finally tip over like she usually did....But her smile quickly turned to a frown ounce she looked up. "Queeny, stop. Come here." "You are not my mother! Lady I am not leaving my safe haven for the likes of my you!" Who did this woman come off as thinking she could order her around. She was not leaving the only thing possibly keeping her safe without her father's presence. She continued to stumbled blinded by the shirt and the hair constantly floating around her face. "Queeny, I'm not kidding! Come here now!," she shouted voice panicking. "I want my fathe-" The world went around and a pain suddenly coursed through her left side. Followed by another hard blow to her head the second flip....and then something soft and firm gripping her and holding her up. "Why don't you listen to me?!" Mimzy quickly lifted the small fawn from mid air above the third step of the stair case up and into her arms. The small child stared up patheticly at nothing in particular. " You could've gotten hurt! What's wrong with you?! Don't you know to listen when I tell you-?" "I WANT FAtheR!!," she shouted in a distorted voice, "I W-WA-..NT FaTHEr NoW!!" The light above the stairs flicked above them as the child continued her tantrum in her arms. When Mimzy turned her around to scold the child, she nearly dropped her at seeing the red dripping from under her eyes. At first she thought the worst and somehow she hurt both of her eyes, but is became clear that she was just crying when those black n' yellow eyes opened to stare at her.  "I want Father!" "Alastor's not here right now.....You need to listen to someone he knows is going to take care of you," she said in a much more soft but firm voice, "Don't you think he'd want me to keep you safe?" "Father's scent keeps me safe! You're trying to take it from me!'' Well at least her voice went back to it's regular radio-ized  self. "I'm not weak! I will not submit to you!" Mimzy stared at the little girl in her hands with a new realization. "Is that what this is all about? Oh, dear." She was hoisted against the plump woman's shoulder and taken back up up hallway they started from. They didn't even go that far. Strange how far you think you go when you can't see where you're going. She really didn't have any other choice but to stay huddled against her shoulder as Mimzy carried her back towards the entrance way to her bedroom. Kicking it open with her foot before walking in. The child still sniffed but leaned back to look at her ounce she sat down on the bed. Her younger siblings were still sleeping in the corner of the sared nursery. How ironic. She was placed down on the soft bed and looked up at the taller demon. "There. You look tired." Queeny sniffed and reached one of her father's oversized sleeves to rub at her dripping face. "I-I'm not." "You wanna hear a story?" ".....What kind?" Mimzy smiled while reaching over to carefully grab her blanket and pull it towards them. "Well. There's a King of Deer- "Like Father?" "Mmm hmm." The blanket was pulled over the child as she continued to stare up at her. "And he had a little girl, and this kind fell in love with a human." "A human? Why would a majestic creature like him fall for a mere human?'' "Hmm. I don't know. Love is a strange thing." She got up from the bed and made to turn around- "Where are you going?" "Oh? I thought you weren't tired. You don't need a bedtime story if you're not tired." "I suppose a nap wouldn't be a bad thing." She smiled and sat back down on the bed when Queeny laid down on the giant pillow. "Tell me how this Deer King fell for the human. It doesn't seem logical." Her smile got wider. "Well. Once there was a Deer King, and his little girl. And one day humans came into the forest without them knowing-" ================================================ "-and so while she was never the true mama to the little fawn, she learnt that you should learn to accept love for what it was and not try to intervene when you know someone's happiness is gonna be shattered." The child lazily blinked her eyes up at her while battling the sand man it seemed. Mimzy smiled and rolled up the dirty shirt she managed to slip off her and stood up from the bed. "...Did you like the story?" "....Mmmm. Ok." Her mouth stretched far in a yawn showing off chompers that clearly resembled Alastor's. "It'll....do." She smiled and began walking towards the door. "Good. Now go to bed. It's late-" "Goodnight, Mama-" She froze. "What did you-?" Queeny was already asleep by the time she turned around. After a few minutes of standing there, she turned back around and went back out of the door. "MMMIMZY!!" The louder than life voice scared her as the taller figure quickly approached her from up the hallway. Smiling from ear to ear. "Mimzy, my darling, I just came back from the picture show debate and thought I would surprise you!" "Oh...Oh, what a surprise." "Mimzy...You're crying." He narrowed his eyes as he spotted the pink liquid running down her cheeks. ''Did something happen while I was gone?" ....She shook her head and smiled. "No. Nothing a mother couldn't handle."

[missingverse]

Virtue and Venom Chapter One

Virtue and Venom

Note: I took a poll as to what I should write for the HA fandom once Missing was finished, and the votes were overwhelmingly in favour of ye olde medieval romance. That's not to say I won't end up writing the other option eventually, but for now this is my project. Although it is quite heavily inspired by Ever After, it is very much its own egg. Also, the language used will be deliberately anachronistic, because writing in old/middle english is a step too far even for me (unless you have a strong desire to see 'Helge, wilt þū mid mē sealtian?' in which case, you may write your own fanfic and I will likely read it.)

Also, I would like to mention that I now have original work freely available on my archive.

https://ptlikestea.dreamwidth.org/

…..

Dawn had already broken by the time Helga woke up, the smoke from the mostly-dead fire suddenly bringing on a cough. Blinking sleepily in the dim light of the morning, she wondered why the cockerel hadn't crowed to wake her up.

Oh yeah...

She'd sold him.

With a groan, she got up from the floor she'd inadvertently fallen asleep on. Her smock was covered in blotches from the ash of the fireplace, and the one that was hung to dry in the pantry was still slightly damp. Still, she peeled off the soiled one and tugged the damp one on, lit a new fire in the stove and put on some water to boil. It would be a good two hours before anyone else in the house woke up, but there was no harm in getting things started early.

Her kirtle and robe hung by the door and she put them on, but didn't bother with a farthingale or even stockings and shoes. The morning air was just about warm enough, and it wasn't like anyone would see her walking around barefoot. No-one important anyway.

The Pataki estate was vast, even though it was clearly in a state of decay. As Helga walked the trail down to the hermitage, she took note of all the things that needed fixing.

Four fenceposts down.

Ragwort on the tilling soil.

Rotten oak tree near the barn.

New holes in the barn roof, probably rats.

“Hi!”

The cheery greeting came from just outside the hermitage. It shouldn't have surprised Helga that Phoebe would be up early, with or without a cockerel to rouse her.

“Hey Pheebs,” she said with a bone-tired wave.

“Do you need the rent today?” Phoebe asked with a little worried frown she tried to hide.

“No, no,” Helga said, waving her off. “Just bread, if you have any.”

“Of course,” Phoebe agreed, beckoning her into the hermitage.

It was crude, but Phoebe and her mother had managed to make it look homely in their own way. The cave was divided into three separate chambers by thick curtains and their old stove sat in a hollow near the entrance so that the smoke wouldn't billow around their living space. The sleeping pallets were stacked up in a corner with their pillows and blankets, and their looms along with the fabrics they wove took up most of the space during the day.

Phoebe reached into the stove and took out two loaves of bread.

“I churned some butter, too, if you want it,” she offered.

“No, it's wasted on them,” Helga declined. “Sell it, or eat it yourself.”

“You should take a little, for yourself,” Phoebe's mother called from her spot at the loom. “You're too thin.”

“If I had some, I'd have to explain where I got it,” Helga said. “Seriously, keep it.”

They insisted she take two eggs with her, and by the time she got back to the kitchen Helga could hear her father making noises from upstairs. She dropped the eggs into the boiling water along with a shank of ham and set about fixing her hair.

…..

“Where's your coif?” Olga asked when she finally made it down to the breakfast table.

“I have no idea,” Helga retorted.

“You're sixteen, you can't go out with your hair loose like that,” her sister moaned. “What will people say?”

“I don't think anyone will care that much.”

“She's right, Olga,” her father growled over a mouthful of ham. “You have to look respectable.”

Inwardly, she seethed. Somehow they were still under the impression that their breakfast had been delivered to them by servants they no longer had, and didn't raise any objections when Helga had been the one to bring them water for washing and help them dress, but suddenly they were concerned that she wasn't covering her head.

She had worn her hair tied up in two long tails since she was a child, and saw no reason to stop. The coif was itchy, and she wasn't a married woman so there was no real reason to cover her head when nobody stopped by the estate anymore anyway.

“I'll find it after breakfast,” she said, with no intention to actually do it.

“I think we should have duck this evening,” her mother said vaguely. “Tell the cook, won't you?”

Where am I going to get a duck at this time of year?

“Sure,” Helga mumbled.

Miriam would probably forget by noon in any case. They had one scrawny chicken in the larder, and lots of vegetables to stretch it out with. As if any of them could even tell the difference between chicken and duck once it was on a plate...

“I am to be introduced a week from now,” Olga announced over a dainty sip of her water. “My old friend Jane Pomfrey...she's Lady Jane Westbourne now....her husband has a friend who is not betrothed.”

“Oh, that's wonderful dear!” Miriam exclaimed with more enthusiasm than she'd been able to muster all month.

“Who is this guy?” Bob asked. “What's his title?”

“Lord Henry Barker,” Olga proclaimed proudly. “He's the second son of Lord Edward Barker.”

“Is he rich?” Helga asked.

“Helga! What a thing to ask!” Olga scolded, as though they weren't all thinking it.

She rolled her eyes as the rest of her family gushed over this latest possible fancy marriage in a long line of fancy possible marriages Olga had talked about since her debut at court. Helga occupied herself by mentally calculating how much she'd get if she sold off the candlesticks.

…..

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”

Arnold was staring at the portrait as if it was the second coming of Venus. Gerald tilted his head and squinted; as far as he could see it was an average portrait of a pleasant-looking young girl dressed in an austere black gown. Her hair was curled and pinned out to the sides in the usual Spanish style. The rather large white crucifix she wore was the key focal point of the portrait.

“It's nice,” Gerald agreed blandly. “But...that's a really big cross. Just sayin'.”

“I know, but she probably has to wear it for portraits,” Arnold reasoned.

Gerald sighed. Arnold had an unfortunate blind spot when it came to situations like this. First that entirely unsuitable Portuguese princess and now Infanta Lila of Spain, a girl who was notorious for turning down proposals from protestants. Supposedly she was so pious she wore a hair shirt to bed every night.

“She did write back,” Arnold said. “Almost all of my letters got a response.”

Arnold's optimism tended to cloud his judgment, 'almost all' likely meant the Infanta probably wrote back twice. All the same, that same optimism let Arnold's subjects accept Gerald himself as a close friend of the prince, despite his Moorish ancestry. Very few people could deny the prince something he wanted.

He was not going to get this princess, though. That was for damn sure.

“The commandant told me we can cross the border at the eastern vale,” Arnold told him. “After that it's not far to the abbey. She's going to be there for another week at least.”

“Arnold, no,” Gerald sighed. “Just no. She's going to scream if you just turn up at her door, and then all her ladies will scream too, and if we manage to make it back over the border the Spanish will turn it into a story about how you tried to kidnap her and compromised her virtue.”

“Oh, come on,” Arnold moaned. “I'm not going to creep in the window or anything...I'll keep a respectful distance.”

“No,” Gerald said, point blank.

…..

“So remember when I said this was never going to work?” Gerald hissed over at Arnold.

“Yeah,” Arnold admitted mournfully.

They hadn't even made it past the border before bandits on the trail picked up on two young men traveling together, one of them a Moor, both of them richly attired. Now they were tramping across the countryside, hands tied behind their backs, robbed of everything but the clothes on their backs.

“Okay look,” Gerald whispered. “They're going to stop soon, and when they do I'm going to make a break for it. While they're trying to figure out who goes after me, you run the opposite way. Then once you've ditched them, find somewhere to hide. I'll bring back some men to find you.”

It was a good plan; Gerald was well-known for having the speed and endurance of a horse, the same qualities that made his father such a renowned warrior. Arnold did not have these gifts, and was grateful that Gerald had taken his shortcomings into account.

Their bandit kidnappers were clearly unused to having prisoners, luckily for them. They didn't even think to tie them to a tree or something when they did stop, and so when Gerald made a run for it they panicked. While they were arguing, Arnold broke away too and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. Behind him he could hear the shouting of the men chasing him, and in his haste he tripped and tumbled down a hill.

When he finally lurched to a halt, he was staring up at the baffled blue eyes of a young girl. He'd fallen right at her feet.

“What the...” she exclaimed, before being cut off by his pursuers bursting through the undergrowth.

“Please help me?” Arnold begged, though how exactly he expected her to help him he didn't know.

To his surprise, she nodded.

In a movement that was astonishingly graceful, she crouched to pull him to his feet while simultaneously picking up a large rock and hurling it at one of the bandits. It caught the man right in the middle of his forehead, knocking him on his back. Arnold was barely standing before another rock went hurtling towards the other man, catching him in the stomach and bringing him to his knees.

“This way,” the girl hissed at Arnold, dragging him off towards the forest.

He let himself be dragged over a seemingly random expanse of hillocks, forest, streams and marsh. The  hem of the girl's gown and his own breeches were soaked and covered in mud by the time she judged it safe for them to stop and catch their breath. Arnold sank down onto a tree stump, gasping for air.

“The forest is a maze beyond the valley,” the girl told him. “They won't be able to follow us without getting lost.”

“Yes,” Arnold gasped. “Thank you...I owe you my life.”

“Yes, you do,” she replied, flipping one of her long pigtails over her shoulder. “And who are you?”

Despite himself, he grinned. He hadn't seen anyone with that hairstyle, or indeed uncovered hair, that wasn't a child. It was oddly charming.

He supposed she was a peasant girl, going by her familiarity with the land. Her gown was a faded pink, mended with patches and darns, and her kirtle peeked out over the gaps in the lacing. The skirt was shapeless, betraying that she didn't wear a farthingale underneath.

He hesitated to tell her who he was. If she knew he was the prince (and it was clear that she hadn't recognized him so she couldn't be a member of the court) she might turn up at the palace demanding repayment, and then Arnold's grandparents would find out what he'd been trying to do.

“I'm...Lord Arnold,” he said. His full title was His Royal Highness Prince Augustus Philip Joseph Arnold the Fourth, but there was no need to tell her that. “And how should I address you?”

“Helga,” she shrugged.

“All right, Lady Helga...”

“What were you doing out here?” she said, her eyes narrowed. “The borders are teeming with bandits, everyone knows that.”

Obviously not everyone.

“I was on my way to visit someone when my companion and I were taken,” Arnold explained. “He ran off in the other direction to raise the alarm. What were you doing out here, if this place is so dangerous?”

“It's common land,” she said with a scowl. “I've been walking it for years. Even the bandits know to stay out of the forest.”

“Well, Lady Helga, if you would be so kind I would ask you not to speak of this to anyone,” Arnold asked.

“Fine,” she shrugged. “It's none of my business anyway.”

He could have been insulted, but instead Arnold found himself feeling intrigued. At court the women fawned all over him and it was off-putting. It was refreshing to be around somebody who couldn't care less about who he was. Not to mention she had an excellent throwing arm.

“Well then, I'll be off. Thank you for your help, once again.”

He turned and walked in the direction he thought was north, only for her to call back to him.

“Do you know where you're going?”

Cursing under his breath, and with his back still turned, he shook his head.

“Fine, I'll lead you out,” she sighed.

[anavantgardener]

Frost and Mischief Ch. 5

Summary: The next installment of Frost and Mischief! Loki is learning more about Elska as he works to train her in magic.

Pairing: OC x Loki Laufeyson

Warnings: mentions of violence and abuse, fighting, swearing

Word Count: 4,000

-----

The Fight

-Loki's P.O.V.-

When Loki invited Elska to the Royal Library to learn his favorite spells, he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing. What he did know was that he wanted more time with her.

It was just after the midday feast; Elska would be just beginning her hand-to-hand combat training. Loki found himself sitting in his chambers, pondering which spells he would teach Elska this evening. As he thought, he realized he wasn't sure what she already knew. While he became aware of her "book borrowing" a century ago already, he had an inkling it had begun quite some time before his discovery.

She already knew how to turn herself invisible. He knew that much from the day she crept her way into the thief's sentencing, although he was still unsure whether or not Elska was aware of his knowledge of that incident. Perhaps she would benefit from a shielding spell that would hide traces of her magic.

Loki also remembered noticing her interest in the book on telepathy. Telepathy was how he first found out she had been taking things from the palace. It may not have been very polite, but she was the first person he practiced his technique for the spell on. She'd come in to clean the library in the mornings and he'd be there, waiting for her. As she milled about, he'd cast an illusion of himself that remained seated at his desk. He himself would find somewhere to perch, invisible, watching her, visualizing her mind opening its doors to him.

The first day he managed to read her thoughts, he was so pleased with himself he nearly exposed his cover by knocking over a pile of books. Thankfully, his illusion was convincing enough for her to believe that it was merely a little joke he had played, giving her a slight shrug and evil grin.

He found that reading thoughts was not what he believed it would be; rather than the mind acting as a book where the reader could flip to any page they pleased, it was more like a play. The reader watched and followed the thoughts as they flowed. Gifted readers could pick up on the emotions that accompanied thoughts. The better you knew who you were reading, the easier it was to pick up on the emotions. People were not necessarily "open books" unless the secret you were looking for was on their mind presently.

After that, he seldom read her thoughts, finding them dull and uninteresting. He crept into her mind every now and then, curiosity getting the better of him. She thought often of her friends and wondered what they were doing for the day. Sometimes, she wished she hadn't eaten her honeyed toast so fast. Other times, she would fret about what she would cook for the dwelling that evening.

So mundane.

Then, one day, he caught her planning her return to the library and take a book. That day, he remained in the library all day, just waiting to catch her in the act. He originally intended to expose her then and there, but something stopped him. So, he just watched her, running her fingers along the book bindings, looking for her prize. When she finally found it, a bright smile lit up her face with success. Tucking the book into her apron, his gaze followed her as she left, quietly closing the large double doors behind her.

After that, he peeked into her mind more often; she loved the imagination magic required, and flew through spells quickly. She was a master of healing magic, and wondered what ingredients would speed the work of her healing balms. Slowly, her research began delving into the history of magic. She hoped it would open her abilities to stronger, more defensive enchantments.

Admittedly, Elska's thoughts were much less bland than the others in Asgard. Even his own friends were consumed with thoughts of superficiality. Women, glory, food, family, friends - it all felt so trivial. Elska, though, she spent her time thinking of magic and history. Through his intrusion, he learned they shared certain affinities.

Once, Loki tried to read his mother, yet discovered the woman had an enchantment protecting her thoughts from masters of magic such as himself. This led him to his search for spells that would allow him to do the same thing, though he had yet to see if it worked. The only other person as gifted in magic as he was his mother, and he did not wish to risk letting her know he attempted to read her.

Teaching Elska how to read people would allow him to try this new spell out, to perfect it. This could prove troublesome, though. Loki worried that, if Elska was successful, she could learn far more than he was comfortable with. He'd have to be very careful in monitoring his thoughts, ensuring they didn't drift anywhere dangerous.

It is either take the risk or never know if your barrier works, he thought to himself, sighing.

Looking over to the sundial at his window, he noticed he had been lost in his thoughts for almost half an hour. After Elska's combat training, she'd be returning to her lady in waiting duties, so he truly would have to wait until the evening feast to see her again. He'd have to find some way to busy himself until then; perhaps he could try out the snake transfiguration with Thor...

Loki was excited by the idea of having a new friend. He hoped this didn't turn out like the Warriors Three; they'd begun as close friends to both he and Thor, but eventually became more loyal to Thor. He was a sort of fifth wheel when the group was together.

Regardless, Elska had agreed to meet with him, meaning he would get the time he so desired with her. Perhaps he would be able to grow closer to her, yet.

*****

After what felt like eons, it was time for the evening feast. After hours of internal combat, Loki continued to deal with his own self-embarrassment at his excitement to see Elska and to be near her once more. Striding into the main hall toward Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three, he was disappointed to find that she was not seated with them.

He also noticed that Sif seemed to be seething with anger, and a fresh cut decorated her left eyebrow. On her cheek, a bruise was beginning to purple. Peeking into her thoughts, they were swarming with rage stemming from Elska's combat training, though not directly from Elska.

"Damn noble weaponsmen," she thought, her voice in her mind a wispy sort of wind-like sound to Loki. "They truly felt the grotesque need to kill her, actually try to kill her."

Loki's mind began racing as he retreated from Sif's head, sitting down next to his brother. Taking every attempt to mask his building anxiety, he thought what the least suspicious way to the topic would be.

"Lady Sif, where did you get your fresh battle wounds?" He asked.

Fresh battle wounds? She's a warrior, you imbecile, Loki scolded himself.

"Those damned racist nobles, that is where," she snapped, concerned glances coming from those sitting around the group.

"You will have to excuse Sif," Hogun said quietly.

"She, Fandral, and Elska had a bit of a run in with-" Volstagg began.

"She was doing absolutely wonderful," Sif cut him off. "Yes, she was unbalanced and a tad goofy at times, but it was her first day training. Fandral had come along to help with her training. We had finally sorted out what weapon was best for her." Towards the end of her statement, she was more speaking to the air than anyone in particular.

Sif shook her head and took another seemingly violent bite of her chicken leg, ignoring the expectant stare from Loki.

"The weaponsmen came to the sparring arena about three hours into Elska's training," Volstagg took over once more.

"You know, the nobles who think because they have the gold for a sword from the merchants they spar better than the All-Father's personal guard?" Fandral jabbed his fork into a pork chop, clearly frustrated with the situation, as well.

Loki shook his head, pushing them to tell him more as he began eating the greens he had set on his plate.

"One of them recognized her as 'that Devourer filth' and informed the men that they should, how did he put it, Fandral?" Sif was waving her fork in the air, words laced with residual animosity.

"Rid the Nine Realms of 'that vile bitch,'" Fandral set his silverware down, taking a moment to calm himself.

Loki looked over to his brother; Thor had yet to place any food on his plate. Instead, he sat with one hand pinching the bridge of his nose, one in a tight fist on the table.

"For hundreds of years," Thor's blue eyes glanced over to Loki, his words coming out so only he could hear. "Hundreds of years, father looks at her the same way those men do. Yet she served our family so diligently. She would tell me stories when I was upset, sneak into my room as a child to play games with me." Loki had never heard about any of this. "She's been my friend, and yet I have allowed people to treat her this way. It will go on no longer."

Loki looked to his lap, setting down his own silverware. It seemed the group's appetite was dwindling.

"How is she?" Loki looked back to Fandral.

"She is fine, she held her own fairly well, for a starting warrior," he responded. "She took several deep gashes to her legs and abdomen, but nothing she will not heal from."

"She is very shaken," Sif looked absolutely dismal. "Right now, I doubt she wants to be anywhere near a nobleman of any sort." She glanced around the room, a scowl replacing her frown.

"We planned on taking her a plate after our time here, but I think it might be better for us all to take plates for ourselves and for her, eat together," Thor spoke loud enough for the group this time.

"I think she would like that very much," Sif gave a small smile.

"I can make her a plate," Loki offered, and the group began gathering their things to relocate.

*****

When Elska opened the door to her chambers, Loki saw just how much the fight had taken out of the young woman. Her shoulders sagged and her nose was red, raw from wiping it. Still she gave the occasional sniffle. Her puffy gray eyes were a tempest, and dark circles decorated her lower lids. Her hair, now messily braided to the side, was still wet and fingers had pruned, telling him she had likely done nothing but sit in the bath since she was released from the healing ward.

Fury bubbled inside Loki, burning in his mind. He wanted to find the men who did this, and drag his dagger through their skin.

In the corner of her room sat her torn leather armor. It was littered with holes, and he could only imagine the constellations that must decorate Elska's skin under her night gown. It always confused Loki, the way they gave beginner warriors the least efficient armor.

"My friends," Elska wiped a straggling tear from her cheek. "You must excuse my appearance. I was not expecting visitors." She sent each of them an apologetic look. "Please, sit where ever you like, I am sorry there is not more seating."

Elska walked over to her wardrobe, choosing out another gown.

"I shall return shortly," she walked into her bathing chambers, sniffling and clearly embarrassed.

The group sat in a sort of stunned silence, unsure of how to console their new friend. After a few seconds, they began debating the benefits of taking her to Thor's chambers. They would all be able to sit and eat in comfort there.

While they spoke, Loki muffled out their voices by peeking into Elska's mind. He pushed out the guilt that accompanied the action, telling himself it was to help him know how to make her feel better. Seeing her like this, her heavy heart's gravity seemingly pulled Loki down with it.

Her thoughts only pulled him down farther.

She missed Eira; she wanted to go home, to the dwelling; her efforts toward success in the palace felt futile. Everything spilled through the forefront of her mind in a constant flow. She felt unwanted, dejected, disastrous.

"I am a monster, the thing parents tell their children about to scare them into following the rules," she thought. Her thoughts were laced with her own feeling of disbelief, telling Loki that she was not accustomed to despising her own heritage.

"I hate for them to see me like this," her mind unknowingly spoke to him. "They are kind, yet they will soon learn to frown at me the way the All-Father does, the way those men did."

Loki put his head in his hands as Elska returned to the main room, not wanting her to see the pain he felt for her.

"We brought you a plate, El," Volstagg picked up the plate from Loki's side and brought it to the woman standing in the middle of the floor.

"El?" The corners of Elska's mouth perked up a bit.

"It is the name I have given you in my head, a sort of term of endearment," Volstagg smiled a big, oafy grin.

"I like it," she laughed gingerly, and the sound, while small, slightly eased Loki's troubled mind.

"We thought we would move this little dinner party into Thor's chambers," Hogun stood. "There is more room for us all to sit comfortably."

"Of course, whatever pleases you all," she shook her head, and Loki noticed that she was much more reserved when she was upset. "I will be right there, just going to put on my sandals."

As the group left, Loki stayed behind to wait for Elska.

"None of us will ever turn against you, you know," he said as she opened her wardrobe.

"Tell me, how do you read my mind?" she did not look at him as she spoke, and the question took him by surprise.

"Truthfully, I planned on teaching you tonight," he gave a cautious laugh, not knowing where the conversation was going.

"But you do not deny that you do it?" Elska asked as she finished lacing up her first sandal, looking over to him.

"No," he sighed after a few moments. "I do not deny it. I also do not deny reading Sif's mind, or Thor's, or Fandral's, or trying to read even my own mother's mind."

She remained silent as she laced up her second sandal, and it prompted him to go on.

"It is intrusive, I know, and I will not lie and tell you I feel guilty for the invasion of privacy, but you must know that I was doing it to find out how to best cheer you up," he explained.

"What about the times before?" Elska stood and held the door for Loki, and he felt a pang in his chest. When he did not answer, she continued. "Do you know how to keep others from reading your mind?"

"Possibly," Loki grit his teeth, now becoming annoyed.

"Good, you will teach me both tonight after dinner," Elska sniffled one last time before she began limping toward Thor's chambers.

Something told Loki she would not be accepting any help he offered.

*****

Dinner seemed to lift Elska's spirits, but she was still more guarded than Loki had ever seen previously. Their interaction in her chambers had left him baffled and frustrated. He was only trying to help, to learn her emotions enough to make her happy again, but his efforts were met with anger.

As she chatted away her sadness with their friends, Loki sat and sunk deeper into his own boiling annoyance. Despite her irritation with him, Elska chose to sit next to him on the lounger, and her closeness drove him mad.

First, he cannot for the life of him discern why his feelings push past platonic boundaries. Then, he feels the need to find a way to spend more time with her. And then, she gets hurt and he does what is in his power to lift her spirits, and she gets angry. And now, by merely sitting next to him, the tension in his body was reaching new levels. The man was reluctant to even set his hand on the cushion beneath him for fear it would possibly graze her own.

Even Sigyn never shook his emotions to the core in this way, yet this woman, who he had only truly known for a week and a half, was driving him up the wall.

Leaning against the arm of the lounger, he watched her as she listened intently to Thor's retelling of one of the battles he and his friends had fought in. Her hands were folded on her lap, legs crossed, back straight. The etiquette classes his father had ordered were certainly showing. Looking back to the group, Loki realized Sif had caught him staring as she gave him a raised eyebrow. Rolling his eyes, he looked over to Thor, pretending to be paying attention to the story he was telling.

Eventually, not as soon as he would have liked, the impromptu dinner party came to a close when Fandral suggested they should all go have a drink in the merchant district. Elska declined, telling them she was still quite uncomfortable with the idea of going out (which Loki did not doubt to be true). Loki informed them he had studies to attend to and would surely go out with them the next night.

Before he made his way to the Royal Library, Loki fetched his notes on mind barrier enchantment from his chambers. When he did enter the library, he found Elska waiting for him, sitting in the window nook. Their eyes met, and he could tell she felt guilty for her earlier words.

"While I refuse to apologize for my frustration at your actions," she began, posture perfect and proud. "I will apologize for my frustration with your intentions." Her shoulders slumped back as the words left her mouth. "I appreciate your care, your words brought me relief."

Looking at Elska, Loki found himself struggling to hold onto his anger. He wanted to be mad at her. He wanted to show her the notes that held the answers to her earlier questions and set them ablaze.

But he didn't.

He sat down next to her, looked into her eyes, and felt his feelings soften.

"And I am sorry for my intrusion, and for my blatant disregard for your privacy," he held his hand out for her to shake. "Still friends?"

"Always," Elska grasped Loki's hand in her own, shaking it.

"Well, now," he laughed. "I do not believe you will be able to tolerate me for so long."

"You underestimate me," she smiled, looking down at their still touching hands.

Pulling his hand away awkwardly, he began rubbing it slightly, as if her touch had burned him.

"Shall we get started, then," he tried to move through the strange moment.

"Of course," Elska smiled and stood, brushing the wrinkles out of her gown as she did so.

"Perfect, let us find a place where you may sit directly across from me," Loki began leading her to one of the larger desks in the library. Motioning her to sit down, he told her the basics of mind reading.

"It sounds much more simple than I would have thought," she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.

"I felt the same way when I discovered telepathy," he replied. "But you know as well as I, magic is a game of imagination, visualizing in your mind and forcing that vision into reality."

He watched her scribble down notes, the corners of his lips curling upward, and went on.

"I will inform you that you will not so much read a mind as you will listen to its progression," he said. "The mind is a stage, the person you are focused on is the actor. Their monologue is your goal." He leaned further into the table. "Now, look at me. Imagine doorways in my eyes, let the doorways become a version of myself if I was a door." She smirked a bit, finding his comment amusing. "You laugh, but giving each person their own door will make this process easier. Now, imagine my doors opening and yourself walking into them."

She stared intently at the man, minutes passing by. Loki had not yet put up his barrier; he needed to be sure she was successful first. After half an hour, she leapt from her chair, a smile plastered on her face.

"So you are not sure your barrier works?" she teased, very pleased with her work. She danced around the desk, and Loki watched as she beamed, a smile growing on his own face. Rather than reply, he just looked at her, wanting her to read his answer.

She accepted the challenge, seating herself across from him once more. Entering his mind this time only took her a few minutes.

"I have not perfected it, no," His thought echoed as he waited patiently for her to hear it.

"Your voice in your head sounds different," she smiled. "It is more musical, like an instrument playing a secret tune."

They continued this little game until she was finding her way into Loki's head in just seconds. Then, it was time for him to try out his barrier. He refrained from showing her his notes, wondering if knowing the enchantment before trying would allow her to break it.

"Now try," Loki envisioned a black wall made of stone encasing his thoughts. He gave the wall vines of ivy, believing that plant growth meant the wall had stood for ages, signifying strength. It was tall, and he imagined stacking another layer of stone on the top, just for good measure.

Elska looked into his eyes, and he could see her fascination in her failure.

"It is amazing," she exclaimed. "I can see the doors, I can open them, but I cannot enter them. There is a wall blockading my entrance." She sat for a moment.

"Truthfully?" Loki swelled with pride, thrilled.

"Truthfully! I wonder if one could envision breaking the walls, and if so, could the subject continuously fortify?" Elska asked, though not to Loki. He watched as she thought aloud, quickly writing notes.

"Here are my notes, if you'd like to see them," he laughed as she immediately grasped them, eyes darting through each word. He was surprised she could read his chaotic handwriting.

After writing, he watched as she sat and closed her eyes. She sat like this for quite some time.

"Now try me," her eyes shot open, and Loki could swear they had been red as they first opened.

Loki envisioned the doors he had assigned to Elska. Tall, wooden double doors, floral detail carved into them. The golden door knobs had once been shaped like roses, but after their conversation last night, they had changed to hellebores, a flower that grows even in the cold.

As he imagined himself opening the doors, he was met with something he hadn't seen in Elska's mind before - a wall of ice. Towering well above the doors he had created for her, as he got close he realized he could see his breath, as well as swirling designs glowing within the frozen barrier.

His admiration for Elska grew tenfold in that moment, finding a deep respect for her bold love of her heritage despite the fear others held for it.

"A wall," he whispered to the woman seated across from him, and she grinned from ear to ear.