#Halt needs some more stable adults in his life so I made some up

[mudpuddless]

Stablemaster and Castle Steward OCs ft. baby Halt for my King Halt AU

[celestialgaea]

write a fic(nsfw or sfw its up to you) with Ezio and a teenage girl who fell in love with him(i’d want it nsfw if you’re fine with it)

I'd love to do that! It has been quite some time since I wrote a request, so i’m so excited! Enjoy :)

Pairings: Brotherhood!Ezio Auditore x Reader

Warnings: Mature content, smut, age gap

Disclaimer: Ezio is at the age of 45 at the beginning of the Brotherhood serie as the reader will be the age of 19, so if you are uncomfortable with age gaps then i’d advice you to scroll further. It is not wrong to have feelings for an older man, however, it is wrong if an older person would use it to manipulate you and hurt you intentionally. This was written for the mere entertainment of the AC fandom!

A/N: I am so sorry for letting the requester wait for weeks! I hate to keep people waiting, I swear. But I have been able to finish this piece and I'm so happy! Let it enjoy you, loves

Along the horizon a blemish of darkness formed and began to spread itself along the, what seemed, infinite edges of the earth. The orange sky set her intentions to flee and slowly vanished, causing the natural state of the heaven’s to occur right in front of your eyes. It felt lonely yet so calming.

‘You seem so dazed by the upcoming nightsky, mia signora.’ The grumbling undertone of Ezio’s voice was vibrating inside of his chest and could be felt against your back. It was as though the vibration was spreading from his breast towards your lower abdomen as a warm and tingling flow. 'It's just beautiful.' You said.

'Just beautiful?' You didn't need to face him to know that he'd raised an eyebrow saying that. It was a very typical gesture Ezio always made, even unknowingly, and that small signal was just enough for him to add a subtle layer of promiscuity to himself. Ezio simply wouldn't be 'Ezio' without a touch of promiscuity. That was the secret to his unexplainable aura that made you taste life whenever you were in his prescence and yet all the flavour would get drained from your tongue if he'd leave, as if the gate's of heaven closed abruptly in front of your eyes as his back was turned towards you. He carried temptation and desire with him, to wherever he goes, and even makes the strictly chaste women beg him for a brush against their thigh, an intense look from his smouldering eyes, a hot and lingering breath against their open mouth.

'Yes, just beautiful, Ezio.'

'And what makes it beautiful, bambini?'

'The calm and enigmatic scenery. It's dark and unknown, and yet it's the most intruiging thing i've ever observed. Reminds a bit of you, just a little bit.' Small spots of flaming skin freckled the whole width of your face and there would be no point in turning the other cheek as Ezio's overtowering head already noticed your reddish feature underneath his gaze. He emitted a breathless laugh, a grumbling grin. There was a tendency that whispered in Ezio's ear. This tendency told him to make a teasing remark about your blushing skin. It would've subconciously stretch out his ego, add a bit of empowerment to his pride knowing that even at the ripe age of 45 he'd still be able to make the early flourished flower allow her sweet nectar to be tasted by him, just a small taste of enlightening in return for enlightment.

'And, again, what makes me a bit like that?' Ezio asked, repeating to raise one eyebrow. You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say, and just kept listening to the constant rips and breaks of small twigs and dried up leaves getting crushed underneath the horse's hooves. 'Am I really that closed, huh? I thought the whole of Italia knew about my reputation from waltzing to one flower to the other.' He released a breathless laugh again. 'Yes, they do. But that is because it's the only part of you they see,' You paused to subtly sniff up the drippling liquid that ran down your left nostril just in time before it reached the open door to your philtrum. 'Truly, you are an open book, but written in a cryptic language.' It was troublesome to hide the breath-heaving excitement that hugged your chest tightly as Ezio's body rubbed itself against yours with every gallop and bumpy cantering the horse made. Wether it be his upper thighs softly caressing the backside of your thighs or the warmth of his sweaty robes clinging itself onto your back, it was enough for your mind to wander towards more bare skin.

'Bambini, there are more parts of me that they have seen. And besides, you are still too young to be putting your nose inside of my younger years.' You grinned softly. 'I don't find you that old.' 'Oh?' 'How old are you? 40?' You asked. 'I wish,' Ezio said, almost daydreaming. 'But alas, I am forty-five.' 'forty-five sounds...' 'Old? Don't be shy, mia signora, I won't bite.' The soft rumbly undertone of his voice was melodic. His talk was never mundane.

'Forty-five sounds ripe.' If you were able , or rather, if you dared to face Ezio you knew that he would be taken aback. You continued. 'A perfect age where experience, wisdom and vigor is combined. Well, it depends on the individual, but you have the right combination; You have a lot of vigor,' His arms slightly embraced you tighter. 'You have experience,' He tugged onto the reigns, expertly, causing the fleshy stallion to prance, exposing the strenght and beautiful anatomy of the animal. 'And wisdom.' And he stood halt in front of his mansion. The mansion where he inhabited the role of mentor, brother, son and lover.

'I feel honored, truly. You may be young, (Y/N), but your mind is beyond your years. I have a friend whom you may like to talk to. Nicollo Machiavelli. Do you know him?' You shook your head. 'I have never heard of messere Machiavelli.' 'Understandable,' Ezio handed the reigns over to the stable boy, a meager young man whose hands had more capacity than his head.

The night might have brought a serenity with her for those whom were able to seek it, but for you there was none to find. The only presence that kept you company, sadly enough, was a bird who kept on singing its weeping lullaby. You just wanted Ezio to be here in this guest room, only him and you. It musn't be moans and brushes and kisses and touches, that enigmatic warmth and intimidation that was present around him was more than enough. How you would've regretted it to wake up the next morning, if you had found the will to sleep, only for this place to be without any trace of Ezio's presence.

An onimous silence brooded. Ezio couldn't be asleep, not yet. And you knew that well enough. You had silent hopes on Ezio coming through your door when you took a porcelain oil lamp holder in your hands and hesitatingly threw it onto the floor. The split second of the oil lamp holder being afflicted by deepend cuts that spread itself rapidly all over the object until it shattered into a mess of piercing shrieks made you shiver as the next second was overflowed by the complete silence of the night. It took less than a minute when you heard heavy stomping coming nearer and nearer. The door opened and exposed Ezio, whose chest was heaving and sighs were heavy, in only his loosened chemise and -Oh, how daring- open breeches. He locked eyes with you before turning his gaze towards the sharp mess on the floor.

'(Y/N), oh dolce madre di Gesù. What did you do now, kid. You could've hurt yourself.' Kid. His vague thinking had spat out the truth of how he truly perceived you. A child. A naïve and stupid child.

'I'm sorry, I just wanted to write but I accidently pushed the lamp holder away with my arm.' You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to hide the dispair that one word brought you.

Kid

'Well, don't let me interrupt your writing, then. And don't you make me worry like that again, understood? My old man's heart can't take that.' He grinned at his own words before silence took a hold again; for him it was a sign to walk away and so he did. He walked out, but you (Oh, you!) couldn't help but stay nailed to the ground, your eyes following the trails of wrinkles on the back of his chemise.

'Besides,' You said hesitantly, breaking the silence and breaking his steps. Ezio was not far from the door before heading back to you, awaiting your words at your door frame. He stood there and it was real. This all was real. You called him and now you were obliged to continue.

'I am not a kid. I am nineteen. I am an adult.' Ezio smiled -unknown if it was to laugh at you or to have pity on you-. soft rimples adorned the sides of his eyes. You had no idea of what to expect from him. And weird enough, Ezio came closer. 'I know. But you're still so naïve. Do not feel embaressed for being called a kid. Actually, forgive me, I should not have called you such. You are much more mature than a kid,' You didn't know how to respond, so you just nodded your head in acknowledgement, your lips curling into a faint smile.

'But do I look like a young girl? And I mean, like, a kid girl.' Ezio squinted his eyes faintly and his face was slightly angled to the side, mildly questioning you.

'In what context?'

'Physical appearances.' He couldn't help but laugh quietly, shaking his head. '(Y/N), Ragazza, Yes you look like a young girl, but not a kid,' Ezio paused in his words. And you couldn't help but stray your eyes away from his dilated pupils to the curvy pathway of thick eyelashes that hung like curtains underneath his bottom eyelids. 'Your skin is youthful and supple, your eyes look dull but they are filled with life. Why wouldn't you want these features while you still have them?' For some reason you couldn't fixate yourself on his words. At that moment you felt intoxicated by the subject and wanted to take it a step further. You yearned to fall into his arms for no reason but to feel him. If it was possible, you would've clung your body onto his. You weren't even able to process his words, your mind was to busy wandering towards sensing Ezio to the fullest.

'No. No, no, no,' You shook your head with every word, saying them vaguely and you felt like whining for comprehension. 'Not my skin nor my eyes nor my hair nor my ears. I meant my body. Does my body look mature?' Ezio's eyes seemed to hesitate, trembling, as if he feared to break an oath of chastity. He bit onto the soft tissue inside of his cheek, knowing that your gown was fairly see through; such was exposed by the protrusion of your soft nipples.

'You're wearing a loose nightgown so it's difficult for me to judge. Still I cannot judge from the formal dresses you wear, that would be perverse, (Y/N), you know that.' How willing you were to get an answer out of him. Just a comment on your hips or your soft breasts or the faint curvature from your elegant ankle. Nothing more. Allowing him to whisper it to your curves, letting the words embrace its soft skin.

You tugged onto the collar of your nightgown to push it down your shoulders. Ezio kept silent, unable to predict your actions, and yet, somehow, he was in awe. The cotton night dress slipped down from your body and the unexpected exposure of wind seared your skin. You noticed how he tried to quietly cover his breeches with his chemise. It brought you a sense of victory, knowing that his breath was unstable as he fought against his desire to hold you, to warm you, to love you. He nearly seemed frozen.

'(Y/N)...' Ezio pierced your eyes with an intensity of his. You took hold of his hand and unsurely cupped them around your breasts, insecure of his big hands not being delighted by the size -How silly it might've sounded to him-.

'Is my body mature? Please, Ezio, don't keep your thoughts to yourself.' You had to laugh while saying that, you didn't know wether it was to laugh away the scorching silence or your own slight embaressment of your impusliveness.

Ezio held the soft flesh underneath your breasts and tenderly touched them, sometimes his thumb caressed your nipples before replacing it with the soft touches of his incinerating breath and hunry lips. This feeling was new to you, new but welcoming. A heavy intoxication of his bodily warmth seared your skin, your veins, your blooming flower. Your womanhood was singing with passion, begging for him to make it reach her sweet melodious notes like the upper string of a lute. Ezio's lips traced across your collarbone and planting soft kisses with tenderness up to your neck. You instinctively opened your mouth for only a melodious heavy breath that whispered to Ezio for more.

'Your body is so mature, from your beautiful breast,' His handpalm enveloped your private part, slightly squeezing it before pressing two fingers against your humid crease and clit. 'To the carnal lust that hides inside of your fullgrown womanhood.' He whispered against the beginning of your cheekbone. With tender kisses he drew from your cheek to your lips, reddened and plumped by arousal. He sucked onto your bottom lip before taking all of you in. The meatiness from the kiss moved waves of heavily emotions inside of you. Before you'd know it you had your tongue caressing his. Ezio smothered a groan in your mouth. He tasted of wine, tons of glasses to drown the loneliness and create the illusion of a company that was just the two-sidedness of his tipsy subconciousness. His shirt was pulled over his head with an impatient tremble and you know how he slowly came to implode by all of the sensory goodness.

He carried you onto the bed. Ezio's body was fit for his age; broad, muscled an yet soft, but not that soft. His hands wandered towards the rim of his breeches to pull them of, but he came to a halt, leaking the trimmed hairs that led to his manhood. A realistion had hit him.

'Bella,' He spoke. 'You're a virgin, true? Pardon me if I'm incorrect.' You nibbled on your lip. 'Yes.' He hummed. The hum didn't seem one of desire nor out of regret. 'I don't want to put myself on display immediately because that would make you uncomfortable as it is your first time.' A warm sensation formed in your heart. He cared. He truly cared. It made you trust him even more and you were sure he wouldn't hurt you, not at all. His mouth opened, wanting to speak further.

'When was the last time you had your menstrual cycle?' He asked. You let out a breath as you thought about it. 'More than two weeks ago, why?' Oh, how limited your sexual knowledge was and how you were ashamed of it. 'To make sure you won't carry my child.'

Ezio came onto the bed to hover you. 'I'll make sure you never want to share the bed with no other man except for me.' He whispered. Ezio flowered blooming kisses onto your neck as his hand began playing with a single breast, giving love and affection to it. You expected the soft trails of his fingers to set its odyssey towards your womanhood, but he stopped, resting the palm of his hand onto your lower stomach. 'Calm down, bella, you are way to tense.' You didn't even realise how the muscles in your neck had moved against his mouth the lower his hand went or how your eyes counted every indivual speck of grayed out plasterwork that was spreaded across the ceiling as a way to escape the anxiety of the moment.

'I'm sorry,' You said with a breathless grin, trying to laugh away the strain that was poured upon your shoulders.

Ezio's fingers slowly slid down your stomach towards your womanhood as he murmered against you neck how it was okay to feel frightened by the idea of a man seeing her so bare and vulnerable. The first touch against your clitoris, so careful and feathery, had the small and swollen pearl craving for more of the sensational ecstacy. He began playing with it; rubbing, turning, licking and sucking. The closeness and scorching warmth of his mouth against your private part was as loving as it was undressing you from your shame. How you were so riled up that even the most repulsive persons could be seen as appealing if they'd stood in front of you as Ezio was making the tension inside of your folds build up. The warmth of his humid tongue against such an intimiate place felt unexplainable good, so good even, both to you as to him, that glistening streaks of Ezio's salive rolled down your fold onto the white bedsheets.

You gripped Ezio's hair. Your pelvis was raised and back was arched as you felt the sweetness of the upper snare of a lute being played on your womanhood. Your mouth opened and a long lasting moan emitted from deep down your throat as the shuddering sensation overwhelmed you.

Ezio's lips curled into a smirk. 'We are not done yet, ragazza,' He said mischievously. 'But firstly I will need to break your hymen, so it'll be easier for me to enter you.' And there was that small speck of anxiousness again, slowly growing. The flushed colour withdrew itself from your face. 'How will you do that?' You asked with a hint of concern in your voice. Ezio's body hovered yours again and he began sucking your neck with the moist of his mouth. '(Y/N),' he whispered against your skin. '(Y/N),' He whispered again. And again. And again. Ezio massaged your jaw with his hands and locked eyes with you. 'I will enter you with two of my fingers so your vagina will get used to penetration, then i'll slowly go in deeper until it will be a tad easier to enter you.' 'Will it hurt?' You asked, unsurely. 'It can feel a little bit uncomfortable, but not painful.' You gave an understanding nod. 'Do you feel ready, (Y/N)?' And You nodded again.

Ezio's torso embraced the side of your body as his lips found their way to the sweet spot at the end of your jaw and let it be overwhelmed by the humid heat of his mouth. You were pushed back on the crooked duvet with the utmost tenderness of his hand and you could feel how alive his erection was as it slightly sunk into the flesh of your thigh. Ticklish strokes were made by his fingers whom were slowly removed from the rounds of your breast to set its journey to bring itself in between your thighs. He opened them, slowly, and as soon as your womanhood was fully unveiled in front for his eyes -again- his warm hand squeezed your inner thigh before immediately cupping your bush.

Ezio's kisses kept growing onto your neck and breast as his other arm had been slithered underneath your back to embrace it, pushing your side closer against the heat of his body. Both his middle and index finger began to move across your slit, and he did that a few times, and then he twirled his fingers against your hot and naked flesh to cover them with your natural wetness. The sweetness of his kisses began to vanish as you were focusing more on the interaction of time and the distance of his fingers that slowly began to emerge into one puddle of subconscious fear and confusion -which you covered by an arbirtrary and unspontanious grin-. Ezio placed the tip of his fingers against your opening and slowly wiggled them not even half an inch inside of you. He looked at you. 'Are you hurt?' You shook your head, scared that an emitted word from your throat would ruin the state of false, but striking, serenity you were able to put yourself in. Ezio slowly pushed in deeper and wiggled his fingers slightly before taking them back to the beginning of your openening, but not out, to cover it with more lube that was the most present at your crease. And so he did that again and again until the feeling of pinched and uncomfortable skin had passed and his fingers had an open way towards the unknown depths of your body.

Ezio let his fingers return to the fresh air and kissed you passionatly on your lips. 'Good girl.' He whispered against them. And that was when it happened. Ezio stood up from the bed and began opening his breeches, the profits of plundered money slid down his toned legs and he pushed the trousers at his ankles of with his feet.

It was intimidating and...surreal. You had seen penisses before, but on statues which were a state of purity and modesty, but this. You were doubting if he was able to fit as the comparison of size between his fingers and his manhood was draconian. It stood erect and a few droplets of precum shone on top of his glans.

Ezio hovered you and his stubble tickled the skin around your mouth as he kissed you. His breath came in heavy and irregular parts through his nose and brushed your top lip as his hands had pressed you against his body. His erection was pressed against your body. Ezio gripped your inner thigh to place it over his back and you could see how his eyes were in a half open state of intoxication, his mouth -also- half open and forming a faint grimace. He took his penis in his hand and guided it towards your entrance and slowly put it inside of you, just a little bit. He used the same method as he did with his fingers until the uncomfortable pushes had vanished and he was able to enter you fully.

You felt filled, literally. At first, the slow thrusts were numb until your wetness had come much quicker and in a bigger amount which made the thrusts more rapid, rougher and painless. Ezio's mouth stood agape with soft grunts emitted from it.

And suddenly you felt it. A slow but emotionally overwhelming sensation of building up ecstacy was present the more he thrusted and the more the warmth and the nearness of his bare pelvis pushed against yours. You let yourself listen and observe the orders of your body and automatically widened your thighs for Ezio to thrust in deeper. He kept thrusting in, and with each thrust you gripped his thigh, underneath the fold of his buttocks, and tried to push him in deeper as the building up sensation became sweeter and sweeter and the private parts began to throb agressively. You felt that you were almost there and so did Ezio.

You arched your head back and the sweet sensation of Ezio's scorching body against yours, his lenght filling you and his face burried in your neck overwhelm you. You thought your womanhood was about to burst as so much power and energy came from it and you kept squeezing your eyes until Ezio's grunts vanished in your neck with the warm seed that had been spilled inside of you.

All of this was intense. Unbelievable even. You were in bed with an infamous murderer, the blood of tens and hundreds of people sticking in between his fingers and dried onto his armour, and yet he was naked and vulnerable and tired in your embrace. A man in his forties skin on skin with a sensitive youth. Both committed and so alive. You wondered if more days like this were going to come or if that would be an illusion for the pleasure of your mind and that this was just the only time Ezio was able to give in to your sensuality. But for the moment you didn't care. You were both naked, satisfied and intoxicated.

[thewhiteroseofvermilion]

Moving Forward

Hello everyone. It’s been a long time since I’ve last spoken to you all, and an even longer time since I’ve last updated this story. Over the months and years, my absence has saddened, frustrated, and even angered many of you. Despite my own valid feelings of how—to put it bluntly—I don’t owe any of you anything as this is something I do for free and in my own free time, I still recognize how it must feel for you all to see something you enjoy so much slowly lose momentum and eventually grind to a halt. Furthermore, my habit of making enthusiastic yet empty statements in between didn’t help either. 

As such, a proper and honest explanation is due, as anything less would be unkind. This will be lengthy, but please bear with me. 

For the past four years, it’s been increasingly difficult to find the time, energy, and motivation for me to properly sit down and write. Seemingly gone are the early days of this story’s life when I was able to publish a new chapter every month or so, or even every two weeks when I was at the top of my game in terms of activeness. Even though I had an immense workload due to being a double major in college, leading me to adopt the best work ethic I’ve ever had, I still led a sheltered lifestyle where I didn’t have to worry about the many looming, inevitable adult responsibilities that were ahead of me.

Those tranquil years of course came to an end when I graduated, and I soon felt immense pressure to shift my attention to finding work, living independently, and working on things that would further my career. While I received support as an aspiring writer from the majority of my family, those being my mother and sister, the both of them commented more frequently as time passed by that my “fanfiction” wasn’t something that I should be spending so much time on anymore. After all, it’s not like I could sell the work as my own, and the fact that despite fanfiction absolutely being a valid artform, it wasn’t something that the world of professional employers cared about. 

Nonetheless, when I did eventually find work as a film freelancer, I still tried to persevere and write on the side. My goal back then was to work in film in order to sustain my pursuit in writing. Film was something I went to school for, greatly enjoyed, and even saw a possible future career for myself in, but it was the writing aspect of it that I was truly after, that being primarily screenwriting. 

After two years of living at home, I felt the need to try and live independently as I outgrew my tiny room and my mom started dating a man that I didn’t particularly like. I knew it wasn’t financially smart of me to do so when my mom allowed me to live with her rent-free. But at the time I thought that it would help me to become more mature and productive, as I would have to force myself to work in order to put a roof over my head and food on the table—as opposed to living a sheltered life at home where everything was taken care of for me. Essentially, I was longing for the lifestyle I had in college, thinking that once I returned to it, I would be able to reacquire that once incredible work ethic I had. 

So, I became roommates with a friend from college and together we rented a townhouse together. Rent wasn’t terribly expensive, but it wasn’t cheap either. Regardless, I was able to make ends meet. My greatest challenge however, was to live up to my family’s spoken and unspoken expectations. On one hand, my mother was sweet and understanding, naturally giving me her full support. My father, on the other, always thought that it’d be better for me to pursue something safer and more lucrative, and to not risk being a starving artist. But the one I had to prove myself the most to was my older sister, who was wildly more successful than I was—financially and professionally. My pay compared to hers was like a drop in a bucket, and I felt both indirect and direct pressure from her to be more “professional” like her. Therefore, I threw myself into my work, which is when things slowly began to go downhill. 

As a film freelancer, my work hours usually averaged between 10-12 hours a day, and with my work taking me all over my home state of Maryland and even into neighboring Washington DC and Virginia, my commute time to and from work ranged anywhere from an additional 1-3 hours. It became incredibly common for me to wake up for work anywhere between 3-6 AM and not get home until 8-10 PM. 

Unbeknownst to me at the time, I slowly slipped into a routine where when I did have the “time” to write, I had zero energy or motivation as my work was so taxing. I reached the point where I had to drink two energy drinks with 300mg of caffeine to get myself to and from work. I saw less and less of my roommate and friends. I spent an alarming amount of money and gained weight from ordering take-out so often because I hadn’t the energy to cook for myself when I got home late from work. There would even be days when I fell into what felt like comas, sleeping up to two days straight at one point. My physical, mental, and emotional health was in serious decline. And yet I didn’t see it that way, as I had become obsessed with trying to prove to my family, my sister in particular, that I wasn’t a failure and that my pursuit of writing wasn’t a hopeless one.

During the first month of COVID-19′s outbreak last year, I finally had a much-needed vacation. This was undoubtedly the best time for me to have returned to writing—but I didn’t. At this point, so much time had passed since my last proper writing session that the few times I did try to write, I found myself completely unable to write anything. I was so out of practice and so out of touch with what I had written. This honestly frightened me, and I soon began to doubt if I could ever be able continue the story with the same quality that so many readers fell in love with. Regrettably, I fled from this revelation long enough for a full month to pass by, and I soon found myself busy with yet another distraction: unemployment. 

I was out of work for about 4.5 months, from the middle of March to the beginning of August. During this time, I had to rely on state unemployment, which earned me great scorn from my older sister. Our relationship had always been uneven since we were kids, but it was becoming increasingly toxic as of late since our college years. I felt so ashamed to tell her how much money I made in a year from my job as a film freelancer, and how I barely managed to move to a better position after four years of work. Riddled with guilt and disappointment in myself, when work became readily available again in August, I frantically threw myself back in harder than ever before. In the past where I had turned down the occasional job to give myself some time to relax or in order to make it to a social outing with friends, I now accepted every job thrown my way, only declining those that would make me double-book myself. I earned a lot of money during those months as a result, and I was so happy to finally distance myself from the stigma of being “unemployed.” However, I once again failed to see that I was yet again sliding back into the lifestyle that had been slowly poisoning me for the past two years. 

After essentially working non-stop from August to March, my body, mind, and soul soon returned right back to the brink of collapse. It wasn’t until then at my lowest point when I finally realized how I initially went from working to sustain myself in order to write, to not writing at all and only working to sustain myself to work even more. It was truly scary to see myself fall victim to a brutal cycle of unfulfilling work that could have trapped me for years to come if I hadn’t broken free first. That’s when I realized that my lifestyle was personally unsustainable, and that something had to change. 

Henceforth, I’ve made the difficult decisions to both transition out of film freelancing and to soon return home to live with my father. At the end of April, the homeowner of the townhouse my roommate and I had been living in for close to three years gave us our 30-days-notice to vacate, as they no longer wished to rent but to sell the property. As my roommate had been planning on finding a place of his own with his girlfriend for quite some time, we split amicably at the end of last month in May and I’ve since moved into a temporary apartment with a friend who has traveled back to Maryland for seasonal work. 

Regarding the change in my career, I’ve been looking into applying for writing positions for something that I’ve grown to enjoy over the past few years, which is to write reviews for media such as film, anime, and videogames. This of course is not what I truly want to do in life, but I think that because it actually involves writing, it would be both good practice in terms of practicing my writing and experience in terms of resume-building. Furthermore, a stable “9-5″ job as such would be good for me, I think, as it would introduce some desperately needed structure back into my life. Being a freelancer was definitely fun as I had the power to choose my own schedule, but it unfortunately fostered a lot of laziness and procrastination when I wasn’t completely burnt out. 

I’ve shared with you all this information, a great deal of it being very personal, in the hopes that it helps you better understand who I am as a person and what I’ve been going through these past four years. 

I understand that my word may be difficult to trust due to my history, but I sincerely wish to let you all know from the bottom of my heart that I do plan on continuing writing The White Rose of Vermilion until it’s completed. My fears and insecurities may have alienated me from that promise, but not once did I ever entertain the idea of fully dropping the story. And I promise you, I never will. It most likely will not further my career in any way, bring any revenue in, and will continue to consume a great deal of my precious free time—yet I still choose to pursue continuing it because I can’t see a future where I don’t finish it.

It is after all my most cherished project; the reason that I was able to truly find my calling as an aspiring writer, its success also ultimately being the proof to my mother that I had some skill as a budding writer, who then gave me her full blessings to pursue it as a career. But most important of all is that it’s the reason why I was able to experience first-hand one of the most important and beautiful discoveries in my entire life. That being the incredible phenomenon of how art is like a beacon—its bright light is powerful enough to reach out and inspire others to create art of their own. From Monty Oum to Nancy Phetchareune to myself, I was blessed enough to see readers create wonderful fanart to show me or tell me in a review that reading my story had inspired them to create something of their own.

I am officially leaving behind my prolonged hiatus and returning to working on The White Rose of Vermilion. While I am extremely hesitant to even estimate when the next chapter will be published, please know that I am genuinely trying to leave behind my habits of old and returning to a more consistent schedule. 

The White Rose of Vermilion will return in:

Arc II, Chapter Twenty-Seven: Stranger in the Night

[notchesandbullets]

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Art credit: @ mudubu00 on Twitter

Part 13: After Aizawa gets hurt, you and Shinsou speed over to the hospital to make sure he’s okay and yell at him for worrying you like that. Ojiro tags along to give his support as well as check in on the four of his classmates that were hurt in the yakuza fight. A week later, Aizawa brings you in, hoping that you can connect with the little girl that they rescued and encourage her to eat something. He didn’t expect it to go so well but now he has one more little joy to look after.

Word Count: 6.7k

“Dad, are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” You asked worriedly as you two came to a halt in front of the hospital. The two of you were officially skipping school for the day. 

But this white building sure was a familiar sight.

You hadn’t been with him when he and a bunch of other pros, along with Kirishima, Asui, Uraraka and Midoriya had infiltrated the yakuza and rescued the little girl called Eri.

You had watched it on the news in the dorms, on the edge of your seat, hands clasped over your mouth fearfully with the rest of your classmates as the events unfolded right there on the screen. 

How the press was able to capture a battle of that size in person and not be shaken with fear their core was beyond you. 

But after seeing how much they went through, you couldn’t help but sprint out of the dorm along with Shinsou as the media caught a glimpse of Aizawa being dragged out by Rock Lock. 

It was far away, but he was slumped over as if he was unconscious. 

You needed to be there. He needed you.

Ojiro chased after you just in time to see you crash into two teachers just outside of the dorms who were also beside themselves with worry. 

They were already on their way to where Aizawa was getting treated, and you didn’t waste any time begging Mic to let you see him while Shinsou won over Midnight. 

It didn’t take too long to receive their permission and Ojiro tagged along with the two of you because he was equally worried about his friends who were injured in the battle as well as how you were taking it.

Upon arrival, the hospital was so busy that both boys beside you made sure not to take their eyes off of you as they steered you through the crowd, following Yamada and Kayama as they weaved in and out.

Since you were legally Aizawa’s daughter and Shinsou held a special bond with him as well, it wasn’t too hard to let you both see him first when the nurses asked who wanted to see him first as soon as he woke up from the anesthetic.

Ojiro held you the entire way there as your body racked with sobs, wrapping his tail around you in the waiting area despite the numerous odd glances that passed through even though Shinsou did a good job of fending off the nosy civilians with a sharp glare. 

You sniffled, fingers tightening on the lapels of his school-issued jacket as you fought the urge to cry. “Why won’t they let me see him?”

Brushing the hair back from your eyes, he petted you gently. Your ears were pinned flat against your head in distress and your nose was blotchy, watery eyes staring up at him with such pain that he couldn’t help but feel it too. 

“They need to check up on Aizawa-sensei first before we can see him, Y/N.” Ojiro told you, sensitive to the conflicted emotions you must be going through.

You sobbed quietly, beyond worried since the doctors haven’t let you see him yet. They wouldn’t tell you anything except that he was alive and stable. Shinsou sat quietly, apart from the two of you, unable to bring himself to make small talk with Ojiro who was holding you gently.

Things were still a little awkward between them. They hadn’t talked to each other since their encounter at the UA Sports Festival. 

Now, it would seem that they couldn’t avoid each other since they both held an important place in your life.

This would need to get resolved. And quickly. 

It felt like hours, but when the doctors finally gave you permission for the three of you to step in and see him, asking for immediate family only, you nearly sprinted into his room.

Ojiro, who already suspected that was going to be the case, reassured you prior that it was okay for you and Shinsou to visit your dad. He was going to pay a visit to Uraraka, Midoriya, Asui and Kirishima, who were also in the same hospital, and meet up with you once you were done.

“Dad!!” You cried out as you flung the door open, racing over to where he was laying on the cot. “Dad!!!”

His head was wrapped in bandages and his shoulder was in a sling. There was a single window and no other patients in the room. That was lucky for you because you were bawling your eyes out.

Aizawa groaned tiredly, turning towards you and smiled softly as you hit his rail and yelled at him for being so reckless and not telling you where he went. “You’re so noisy, kid.”

Your body racked with sobs as you cried, not even registering when Shinsou caught up to you, Yamada and Kayama stepping inside quietly before shutting the door.

“You look terrible.” Shinsou drawled nonchalantly, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he tried to appear as if he wasn’t worried.

Aizawa rolled his eyes, peering past him to find his two best friends waiting for him to notice them.

He groaned more out of feigned annoyance than pain as Mic squished him in a hug. “Not you again.”

Yamada’s cry of outrage almost caused the windows to crack as he accidentally used his quirk. “Shouta, you’re so mean!!!”

 You and Shinsou shushed him so harshly that it evoked a giggle from Kayama.

“You better listen to them.” She teased a now guilty looking Yamada. “They’re his kids after all.”

“Nemuri~” He whined.

“Mic, quit being a baby.” She snapped, before marching over to Aizawa and scolding him for being so reckless just like you had done a minute prior.

After dramatically proclaiming how his pride was wounded, Yamada calmed down. Kind of. 

Nobody in the room said it, but you could see how his fingers shook as he latched onto Aizawa’s bedside rail and the click of Kayama’s heels as she paced back and forth, giving away her anxiety.

You and Shinsou exchanged a look, then left to go outside without a word. Aizawa didn’t stop you, already suspecting what the two of you were doing.

All three adults froze as the door clicked close and Aizawa sighed heavily. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you.” He told them quietly, his voice scratchy and Kamaya was immediately fetching some water for him from the sink, ordering him to drink before he said anything else.

Yamada crossed his legs as he sank to the ground, his eyes flitting up to meet his best friend’s. His insanely stupid best friend who had landed himself in the hospital yet again. 

“You’re an idiot, worrying us like that.” He mumbled and Aizawa cracked a smile.

“Yeah, I suppose I am.”

Outside, you sank down to the ground that was honestly probably not very clean while Shinsou leaned against the opposite wall.

He exhaled forcefully, rubbing the back of his neck in subtle relief. “Close call, huh?”

Your fluffy ears twitched and you nodded, causing them to flop back and forth. “Yeah.”

Thank goodness his injuries weren’t extensive. Other than a shallow knife wound to the shoulder and back, he was okay. He would be fatigued for awhile thanks to Recovery Girl’s quirk but that was all.

You hoped.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” You asked quietly.

Battles weren’t just about physical exertion, they were also draining mentally. You didn’t know how much of a toll this one would take on him or the repercussions that would follow.

Shinsou stayed quiet for a moment, thinking it over. If it was anyone else, he would’ve brushed them off or replied in his blunt, instinctual way but this was you he was talking about. He cared more than most others. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Da— Aizawa-sensei’s strong.”

A broad, toothy grin split across your features.

“You almost said ‘dad’~” You sang merrily, a teasing light in your eye and he rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” Shinsou muttered, ignoring you now that you had switched on your annoying side. 

“It’ll happen one day.” You stated firmly, hands balling into fists determinedly as you declared your stance. “And when it does, you can’t take it back. And I get all rights to boast about it in the future.”

Shinsou waved you off and an easier silence encompassed the two of you.

Kayama came back out to get you both after an hour approximately passed, a rare apologetic expression on her face as she apologized for taking so long. Shinsou brushed it off and you reassured her that it was okay.

You were all worried about him. Apparently, he had been dipping in and out of consciousness ever since he arrived due to the pain meds but he was going to be okay.

Yamada was slouched over Aizawa’s bedside and when Kayama came in after you and Shinsou, she planted herself down next to the unusually quiet loudmouth. 

You and Shinsou took up the other side, eyes growing heavy with how taxing today had been and it wasn’t long before you two drifted off, the adults following suit soon after.

When Aizawa came to and saw the four of you near him, he couldn’t help but smile tiredly. The sight was rare and no one was squabbling incessantly over something that wasn’t important. Instead, only the sound of silence filled his hospital room. 

Aside from the brush with death, he could get used to this.

Once he had fallen asleep again, you were being shaken away. 

Ojiro sent you a soft smile, kneeling down on the floor and rubbing comforting circles on your back. 

You bolted upright, your tail knocking into Shinsou and startling him awake as it thumped against his back.

“Mashirao?!”

He held a finger up to his mouth to shush you quickly, motioning to where Aizawa, Kayama and Yamada were all asleep. 

You followed him outside so that you didn’t disturb the three of them, Shinsou grumbling about how abruptly he had been woken up but trailed behind you begrudgingly. 

Once he closed the door behind him, you immediately burst out with endless questions on how your classmates were doing. Ojiro was quick to reassure you that aside from Kirishima, everyone else seemed to be doing okay, only sustaining minor injuries.

Seeing as how Midoriya was lumped in with that group, you were shocked that he hadn’t managed to get hurt too badly.

Grateful, but shocked.

Ojiro asked if you would like to see them and you eagerly nodded, inviting Shinsou to come along with you but he awkwardly declined.

It felt too weird still, he wasn’t used to people talking to him so easily, since his quirk was the main reason why so many people avoided him in middle school. 

Your ears drooped a little bit, having a feeling of where his head was at but gave in. You weren’t going to pressure him when he was so obviously uncomfortable. You could only hope that it faded with time because once he joined the hero course, he was going to have to deal with everyone in Class 1-A, regardless of whether or not he actually chose A over B. 

Ashido, Midoriya and Kaminari had been especially keen on getting to know him better. 

You extended your hand out to Ojiro without thinking about it, only to blush when you realized how easy that simple action was. You had gotten so used to it that you hadn’t realized how intimate the gesture actually was. 

But before you could retract your hand, his fingers wove with yours and he tucked you under his arm, making sure to keep you close while you walked down the hall filled with heavy traffic on the way to Kirishima’s room. 

Another hour and a half had passed. You had visited all four of your classmates, even meeting the Big Three for the first time since you were absent during the day that Togata laid pain on your class. 

Asui and Ururaka smiled when you entered with Ojiro by your side and you hugged them both tight, relaying how glad you were that they were okay. 

Kirishima was unconscious when you visited his room and you decided to let him rest, writing him a little note that wished him a swift recovery, leaving it on his pillow.

Midoriya was happy to see you, automatically asking if you were hurt. You had to rush to explain that you were visiting your dad and thought it would be good to check on them while you were at it. He gave you a brief rundown on what they were doing, what the news failed to cover, and your brow furrowed as he told you about the little girl that was the focus of their rescue operation.

That must have been so hard to go through.

“Are you okay?” Ojiro asked you quietly as you worked your way through the maze of the hospital, on your way back to the waiting room where Shinsou was undoubtedly waiting for you.

Ducking your head, you nodded but it was more out of instinct that actual acknowledgement. “Yeah, I just wish I could’ve been there. Maybe I could’ve done something.”

His eyes grew conflicted at the emotion in your voice and he inclined his head. He understood where you were coming from but you shouldn’t fault yourself for not being there. The four of them who were involved with work-studies were ready for this. They managed to save her.

“I know.” Ojiro finally whispered quietly, patting your head softly in reassurance. “But they’ll be okay.”

You heaved a sigh. “I hope so.”

As soon as you made it back to the waiting room, the sun was setting outside and your stomach rumbled with the need for food.  

Your hand slipped out of Ojiro’s as you left him with Shinsou, racing to the cafeteria with hopes that they would have some kind of meat for you to chow down on before it was time to leave. 

Kayama and Yamada were already waiting in the car for you three, knowing that you took a little extra time to visit your friends.

Shinsou rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and Ojiro’s tail drooped as he realized that they still weren’t able to hold a conversation.

“Erm, how’s Aizawa-sensei doing?” Ojiro asked tentatively.

Shinsou exhaled sharply. “He’s fine.”

The guarded tone he took with him made the tailed teen drop the subject, his heart twisting painfully as he realized that this wasn’t going to be as easy as he had hoped. Then again, he couldn’t necessarily say that he blamed him. 

Shinsou’s indigo hues cleared a tad when Ojiro’s tail fell limp and he closed his eyes briefly before they snapped back open.

“If you have something to say then say it before she gets back.” He grumbled.

Ojiro’s eyes widened at the opportunity handed to him before recovering quickly. Shoulders straightening, his eyes squinted a fraction, determined to follow through with what he wanted to say.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow when the other gestured for him to sit but did so without arguing. 

And without saying anything else, Ojiro began. 

When you approached them, smoothie and empty wrapper in hand from where you had inhaled the food you had bought with Uncle Hizashi’s credit card, you tilted your head curiously at the sight of the two of them engaged in a deep conversation. 

And as the day ended, the five of you headed back to UA, leaving you forever in the dark about what they were talking about.

Now, a week later, you were back at the very same hospital but for very different reasons. Nighteye had made a full recovery, thanks to some of your blood which had an advanced healing property no one was aware of before. 

After you quietly admitted to keeping it a secret due to it being one of the reasons the Quirk Traffickers took you, Aizawa told you that you didn’t need to apologize and had All Might keep the doctors who transferred the blood off the record so that it couldn’t be traced back to you. 

Even though Aizawa had been cleared and released within a day or so, thanks to Recovery Girl’s quirk, there was still something else he had to do.

He thought it would be a good idea to take you along when he visited the girl they saved. She got scared at everything that moved and was jittery all the time, which was taxing on her already exhausted little body.

He hoped that by seeing you, someone who had also been through something traumatic, you could help her by understanding what a lot of others failed to see.

Look, doctors were great, up until the point where they just couldn’t stand on the same ground as the little one. 

No one knew what Eri had gone through. Sure, they had the papers and the evidence, enough to lock Chisaki away for life, but that didn’t mean they really knew.

They didn’t know what it was like to live a day in her life. How traumatizing it must have been for her to get taken apart and put back together again, all for a drug that would only spread chaos in society.

She didn’t deserve any of that. And while they all knew that, no one could tell her that without it sounding hollow. Because they didn’t know what it was like to live in the same fear that she had felt for every single day of her life. 

Which is where you came in.

Yamada was covering his classes for the time being and you hoped no one questioned why you were also absent. 

“Yes, it’s fine.” Aizawa reassured you emotionlessly as he held open the front door for you to let you go in first. 

You stepped inside and blended in with those that milled about the hospital, following Aizawa until you came to a stop in front of a quarantined area. Inside a room, sat a little girl on the hospital bed. 

Your jaw dropped. “Is that—”

“Yes.” Aizawa answered without looking as he signed off on the agreement given to him by the police officers stationed by the door. 

After hearing from Holly when you had your playdate together and seeing how you interacted with any kids you came across, he was hoping that your energetic presence would help bring this traumatized little girl out of her shell. 

“She’s been through a lot, hasn’t she?” You asked quietly as you watched Eri fumble with the bandages on her arms and legs, your eyes shining with tears at how clearly it was stressing her out. 

Aizawa sighed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“That would be an understatement.” He mumbled.

And that was with only having a fraction of an idea of what had happened to her.

Aiawa motioned for the nurse in the room trying to feed the reluctant girl to step out and she did so with zero hesitation.

“How is she today?” He asked her once she closed the door and you looked around both of them so that you could observe Eri. 

The nurse’s gaze was sympathetic but it was clear she was at her wit’s end. “She’s stable and her quirk has not activated once, but she still refuses to eat anything. I’m not sure how much longer we should hold out, I think we should tube feed her unless her vitals are going to drop.”

“Let me try.” You piped up, an usually serious expression stark on your normally friendly features.

You glanced to your dad for approval but Aizawa merely nodded and after the nurse confirmed that it was alright for you to go inside so long as he was with you, she ushered the two of you in while she monitored things from outside.

Careful not to startle Eri, you knocked lightly before announcing yourself and coming in. She looked terrified at an unknown face but you didn’t blame her one bit, remembering what it was like when Ojiro first rescued you. 

Your heart had been filled with fear but the hand that he stretched out was warm and inviting. And you never once regretted taking it.

“Hello.” You greeted, setting down a tray of food that had one characteristic in common all around. All the food was sealed to ensure that nothing was tampered with. “Are you hungry, Eri-chan?”

She blinked up at you, staring at the food skeptically but you weren’t offended in the slightest. While you didn’t know what it was like to be exactly in her shoes, you certainly could empathize.

However, her eyes lit up with curiosity at the sight of your fluffy ears and tail. You were different from the others that came to visit and while she wondered if perhaps that was a bad sign, she couldn’t help but be in awe.

Aizawa was leaning against the door frame, watching you both. He had been in the room quite a few times during routine check-ups from the doctor and such but he never really interacted with the little girl. He wasn’t the greatest with kids, they tended to cry whenever they saw him.

Another reason why he was an underground pro where the contact with children was limited to professional interactions only. 

You tried to offer up her portion of the meal but she scurried back, her knees tucked up frightfully and you immediately let it go, drawing back to give her some space, murmuring soft reassurances.

Now Aizawa could see how you two really were similar. Abandoned by family and forced to do things you had no awareness of or couldn’t understand, it was sickening. 

“I know it’s scary.” You said quietly as you set down the spoon when she shied away from the foreign object. “I was scared too.”

Eri looked up at you with her big eyes, not daring to hope that you could understand what she had been through. Her knees trembled as she drew them up tighter to her chest for comfort.

You smiled reassuringly and kept your distance as you explained your own story, your history with dangerous people just like Chisaki and how you were healing from your own experience.

“It’s hard to trust people when you’re scared that they’re just going to do the same things that those scary people put you through, but trusting that guy,” You pointed over your shoulder to where Aizawa was standing. “Was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”

Eri blinked owlishly. “R-Really?”

Her small voice came out so fragile and shaky that you had to physically stop yourself from tackling her in a hug, knowing that it would only frighten her and not comfort her like you were intending. 

“Yes,” You nodded vigorously, your tail fluffing up the barest bit to emphasize your point. “And I know you don’t know me, Eri-chan, but I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe too.”

Bit by bit, you could see something changing inside her and hesitantly, she reached for the metal utensil, halting in place before she touched it and looked up at you for permission.

“You’re safe here.” You whispered softly, motioning that it was okay. “You can eat as much as you want.”

This time, Eri tentatively took the spoon and balancing the bowl carefully in her hands, she gazed at it curiously.

You were ecstatic at her progress. You didn’t think she would drop her walls around you so fast. While she looked at it, you picked up your own bowl. Showing her how to blow on the foot first so that it didn’t burn her tongue, you took a small bite, demonstrating that the food caused no harm.

Eri was timid at first, but she gradually grew more confident until she was eating with a gusto that not only surprised you, but also Aizawa.

You motioned him to come over after asking Eri if it was alright so that your dad didn’t spend the majority of his visit standing awkwardly by the wall. The little girl was hesitant but she nodded that it was okay and after a beat, Aizawa came closer. 

Once he was within arm’s reach, you scooted over to offer him a spot next to you on the bed. 

“Does it taste okay?” You asked her as your dad sat down beside you.

Eri halted, her cheeks bulging with food and she nodded slowly. Cupping her small hands around the bowl, she took in the heat.

“It’s… warm.” She said softly and your heart broke in two.

Sniffling, you managed a wobbly smile for her. “I’m glad.”

You were going to rip Chisaki a new one if he ever got within a ten mile radius of her again. 

Eri polished off her food in a little under an hour, her swollen stomach not quite used to taking in food so rich with nutrients and you fought to keep your tail from lashing back and forth angrily at all she had been through. 

Aizawa collected the empty bowls, placing them back on the tray and giving it back to the nurse outside monitoring Eri’s progress while you played with the little one.

Lowering your head, you let the tips of your ears brush across her cheeks, evoking a small giggle from the little girl as she latched onto them with her fingers, being gentle not to pull on them. 

Eri kicked her feet up and even though she didn’t smile, you could see it in her eyes; a light that wasn’t present before.

“They’re fuzzy...” She trailed off quietly before hastily retracting her hands, her gaze dropping down to her lap.

Your eyes softened understandingly at her reaction and you were careful not to move any closer. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Eri still flinched as you drew back slightly to give her some breathing room and you bit your lip to contain the snarl threatening to spill onto your face from where her hands trembled fearfully.

“I’m not going to hit you.” You told her gently, careful to be as soothing as you could to put her at ease. 

Aizawa was watching attentively from the doorway to give you both some space while you calmed her down, ready to erase her quirk if need be but so far so good.

“People hurt me too.” You whispered softly, rolling up your sleeves to show her the multitude of scars on your arms. “And I don’t know why or what I did wrong. But things get easier.”

You smiled encouragingly when she looked up at you, as though she was asking for permission to touch them and outstretching it slowly so you didn’t startle her, you let out a shaky breath as her fingertips barely skimmed over the marred skin.

Reminders of where you came from.

“Eri-chan.”

The little girl looked up at you as you gazed at her imploringly.

“I can’t promise that you’ll feel okay all the time, but when you’re ready, I’d like to show you what the world outside looks like.” You offered, standing up and curling your tail around your hip to beckon to her. 

Eri’s ruby-red orbs glistened and she swallowed hard. “Will... Will you be there?”

You nodded reassuringly. “For as long as you want me there.”

“I-I—” Eri looked down, struggling with what she wanted to say and you gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. 

The hospital gardens were nothing extraordinary but it would beat this room with white-washed walls everywhere you looked. A pop of color would be good for her soul and you hoped the fresh air would steady her heart.

You held out your hand, letting it be known that she didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to, the unspoken sentiment hanging in the air from where you regarded her empathetically. “What do you say, Eri-chan?”

She hesitated and for a beat, you weren’t sure what she was going to decide. But then she raised her head, her eyes shining with something that vaguely resembled determination and you smiled as her small hand slipped into yours.

“... Okay.”

Two months had passed by since then.

Eri had been moved out of the hospital and since Aizawa was the only one who could keep that quirk of hers under control until she learned how to do it herself, he was granted temporary guardianship of her. 

The authorities had entrusted her to UA but on paper, she was his foster child for the time being. 

Just like you had been, once upon a time.

Togata and Midoriya made the transition back into civilization easier for Eri, though the first week she wouldn’t leave their sides unless it was with you. You three were the ones she trusted the most. 

Though, Aizawa came really close.

You suspected it had something to do with the small cream-colored teddy bear he bought for her while walking past the hospital gift shop on your way out that first day he brought you to see her.

They always sold things to help comfort patients during their stay and while he hesitated buying it, he ended up getting it anyway and giving it to her during her last week at the hospital so that she would have something to hold at night. 

Eri had looked confused and it was almost funny how Aizawa tripped over his words trying to explain to her that he had bought this girl, who he didn’t know and wasn’t related to, a stuffed animal to bring her comfort because he was worried about her. 

You, and even Shinsou, teased that he was such a softie, earning both of you a towel to the face after training at his house. 

It was hours after school had let out and the sun was just starting to set. 

Most students had already gone back to the dormitories. You had promised Ojiro to stop by his room before you went to bed when you got back and with that, you two parted ways.

Aizawa had taken you and Shinsou to his flat for training once you sprinted into the teachers’ lounge where both of them were waiting for you, along with Eri. Even though all the teachers had their own dorm, courtesy of the principal, he had already paid off the mortgage on the flat and he was not keen on selling it for a number of reasons. 

Besides, Vlad King was allergic to cats so it wasn’t like he could just take Coffee with him.

So, while he lived in the teachers’ dorm, he went to his flat on the weekends and on their days off. 

Aizawa dodged his student’s punch with a slight smirk. “Too slow.”

You were in the corner of the training arena inside of his house, playing tea party with Eri in the corner. 

Aizawa had bought her a truckload of toys to entertain herself with so that she could bring things to keep herself busy when he was teaching at school. Luckily, she wasn’t fussy at all so it had taken barely any time to pick out what to buy.

Though you suggested it might have been a bit unnecessary to purchase nearly half the store.

It didn’t matter. Eri had been ecstatic once she had been told that these new toys were all hers to play with. Aizawa had to reassure her over and over again that yes, they really were hers and no, he didn’t particularly care if she broke something or decided that she didn’t want it.

She was honestly so careful in handling the neat little gadgets and play sets that he couldn’t even envision her breaking something.

You ignored the grunts and taunts coming from the middle of the room as the Shinsou and your dad sparred, flicking your tail to tickle the tip of Eri’s nose and she giggled, beaming widely at you when you exaggerated an eye roll when a thump reverberated through the ground as Shinsou was knocked onto his feet.

Eri had smiled for the first time at the school festival and you roped Midoriya into teaching you how to make candied apples so you’d always be prepared if she ever got up the courage to ask you for one directly. 

For now, you were just content to have some on hand whenever she came to Heights Alliance when Aizawa needed to put out yet another fire that Bakugou set off with his explosion.

While you and Eri were playing, Shinsou was practicing his hand-to-hand combat with his mentor but every time he struck, Aizawa was always one step ahead of him. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he wiped it off with a grimace before doubling back to strike again. 

Aizawa maneuvered out of range easily, shoving him flat onto his back.

“Concentrate, Toshi.” He urged strictly and the teen slammed a fist on the ground in frustration before popping back up to his feet and coming at him again. 

It had taken a while for Eri to get comfortable watching them spar, always worried that someone would get hurt but you had explained that Aizawa was helping her unofficial brother get stronger.  

Shinsou hadn’t necessarily been taken to the idea of being someone she looked up too, it was too much pressure. He never had to be an older brother to anyone and you didn’t count since you were the same age as him. 

Eventually, he warmed up to the idea, though he never told Eri that and he always denied it whenever Aizawa asked him straight out with a knowing smirk on his face. 

Eri could be very persuasive when she wanted to, with her doe eyes and bright, blinding smiles that could disarm All Might himself.

Cute.

Shinsou huffed at his mentor’s impromptu rebuttal, redoubling his efforts to be able to land one hit on him before this round was over. Moving faster and faster until they both became a blur, he measured each strike and kick until his burning limbs were shrieking for him to stop.

“C’mon, Toshi, hit Dad where it hurts!!” You egged on from the sidelines and Eri threw her hands up excitedly. 

“You can do it, Papa!!” She cheered. 

She had gradually grown more and more comfortable calling him that, it took almost no time at all after hearing you call him that. But you all figured she deserved to have a loving father figure after all she had been through so no one teased her about it. 

Even Monoma was surprisingly docile when it came to the little girl whenever you guys ran into him in the hallways.

Aizawa smiled slightly at the little girl’s encouragement but never took his eyes off of his student. Blocking his fist, he stepped closer, sweeping his leg at his feet, which Shinsou was able to dodge just in time. 

“That won’t work on me twice!!” Shinsou shouted.

Hooking his foot around the elder’s ankle the second he landed firmly on his feet, Shinsou yanked him down to the floor and he landed hard.

His breath knocked clear out of his lungs, Aizawa coughed a couple of times before flashing his student a proud grin.

“Good job.”

The rare praise was curt but it transformed the expression on Shinsou’s face into one of unbridled happiness that was rare and far in between to see. He didn’t say anything but he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading from ear to ear as his mentor acknowledged his victory. 

“Alright, way to go, Toshi!!” You cheered alongside Eri.

“Toshi-nii, Toshi-nii, Toshi-nii!!” Eri exclaimed repeatedly in that soft voice of hers as she scrambled forward onto the training mat, raising her hands up as an indicator that she wanted to be picked up. “You won!!”

Shinsou bent down to pick her up, bouncing her on his hip a few times in the way that he knew made her laugh, poking her on the nose and grinning when she scrunched it up cutely.

“I did.” He boasted, puffing out his chest ever so slightly to make him appear manlier and you sputtered out laughing at how ridiculous he looked, to which he shot you a glare.

Eri’s eyes were shining. “You were so cool!!”

“Hey,” Aizawa frowned, feigning disappointment as he patted the back of his sweaty neck with a clean towel. “What about me?”

“Dad’s acting like a child again.” You commented as you handed him a glass of water you had previously gotten from the kitchen when you heard their fight going on. 

On the way to the training area, you had run into Eri on the way there and invited her to come along so that she wouldn’t be alone. And also so that you could play with her.

Shinsou flashed you a grin. “It’s cause I kicked his butt.”

Aizawa flicked both of your foreheads to chastise you two for such an informal tone but it was light and even though you cried out dramatically and Shinsou rolled his eyes, you knew he didn’t actually care.

Much like Asui, who you found out what happened during the USJ incident had made her have a unique understanding with her teacher, you knew when to be serious and when to push the limits of your playfulness and cause no harm to your relationship in the process. 

Eri reached out for you and you took her from Shinsou, sticking out your tongue in the process. 

“Hah!! She likes me better!!” You gloated in his face.

He rolled his eyes, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with a rag as he echoed your words from before. “You’re such a child.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am—”

“Okay, and that is the last of that.” Aizawa interrupted before you could carry on into a screaming match and then he would have to be the one to somehow get you two to stop fighting all the while calming Eri down, who would be crying cause her siblings were arguing.

Much like you, she was sensitive to loud noises and raised volumes and he couldn’t always use pats on the head with her since her interactions with Chisaki mostly consisted of—

Aizawa shook his head. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. The things that man did to this child was horrifying. It almost made him wish he was a villain just so that he could have the satisfaction of killing him. 

But what mattered most was that Eri was out of there and that she was never going back. 

Gazing fondly as Eri petted one of your ears that you offered to her, a soft smile slipped onto his face. The two of you were damn cute. And he was so proud that he got to call you his own kids.

Sensing movement out of the corner of his eye, he quickly sidestepped Shinsou’s surprise attack, the shocked look that crossed his student’s face at his reaction time was priceless.

“C’mon kid, you can do better than that.” He smirked, balancing on his feet and drawing up his fists for another bout. “One more round before dinner.”

Shinsou nodded determinedly. “Bring it on, sensei.”

Needless to say, that one was a draw. But only because Shinsou couldn’t get out of his mentor’s headlock. 

Aizawa was too smart to fall for the brainwashing trick.

As they started to argue over who won, Aizawa clearly going to win the battle of words, you ushered Eri out of the room.

You jabbed a thumb over your shoulder as she grabbed her tea party set on the way out. “Want to help me start dinner until those two get over their ego?” 

Eri nodded eagerly even though she didn’t really understand what an ego was. All she heard was dinnertime and that meant food. 

“Yes!!” She cheered excitedly and you picked her up as she lifted her arms. 

A growl of annoyance sounded from the other room. 

“Y/N, I heard that.”

You could practically envision your dad’s glower and quickened your pace, holding in your giggles along with Eri.

It was rocky, but somehow in the midst of all the bad, you had come out with the perfect family.

[imagineabrighterworld]

Tenya Iida with a Princess S/O

You first meet him as a page

Tenya Iida was the second son of a family of nobles. There was no doubt that he would have a bright future ahead of him. You were the crown princess of the land, your brother instead opting to travel as an ambassador. This meant it was up to you to greet each of the noble families closest to the crown.

Bunching the fabric of your skirts in your hands, you wend your way down the spiralling staircase to the main foyer, your ladies in waiting trailing after you with varying levels of excitement. Today you got to meet the noble families of Florrum! It was scary, but it was also a little exciting. After your brother passed the crown to you, it was now your responsibility to make the people love you. A scary thought, but you were ready for it.

“Ooh this is so fun! I hear the Iidas’s and the Eijiro’s are coming today!” Your best friend and lady in waiting Ochako Uraraka squeals from behind you. “The Todoroki’s are already here too! Shoto was kinda cute don't you think?”

“She knows that silly.” Momo Yaoyorozu chides, pulling Uraraka slightly in order to fix a stray strand of hair out of place. While she didn't speak it, she used the excuse of managing Uraraka's hair to avoid speaking about the young white and red haired noble. "We just met them yesterday.”

You pause your trek down and pull the two girls to hide behind the banister as your father’s voice echoes in the room. Four voices accompanied his own, two of which you didn't recognize. Those must have been the Iida's. The third was a boy who had accompanied Shoto Todoroki, his name was Izuku. So either the fourth was Shoto, or it was the youngest Iida son.

Peeking around the corner, you scan the group of adults before looking at the younger boys following them. It was indeed Izuku Midoriya, and a boy who looked much like the eldest Iida.

His eyes flash to yours upon noticing the three of you crouched like spies. Immediately he rushes to his father’s side, grabbing his hand and chopping the air in your direction with vigor. “There are three strange girls over there!”

With an embarrassed queal, you duck further down and use the top layer of tulle fabric to cover your face. On the other hand, your ladies in waiting stand up to get a better look of the boy.

“So that's Tenya?” Ochako questions while nudging your arm. “He looks kinda serious.”

“ ‘Raka it is not polite to call strangers by their first names.” Yaoyorozu helps you up despite your tremblings. “Come on, my lady, let’s see him.”

He was overbearingly polite, but it was sweet

Standing in front of Tenya Iida you bulster up the courage to look him in the eye after being dragged by your friends to approach him. It wasn't queenly at all, and now you missed your elder brother more than ever. He was good with greeting people. This was still new to you.

The boy bows a perfect right angle, nearly flinging the glasses off of his face. You wouldn't be surprised if they weren't his first pair to go flying. “My apologies Princess! My name is Tenya Iida, from the prominent Iida family! It is an honor to meet you!” 

His father smiled crookedly behind you, looking at his son and back to you. He bows his head. “Princess, it is a pleasure to meet the future queen.”

Glancing back at your friends for strength you curtsy to the men in front of you, grateful your hair was blocking their view of your flushed cheeks. “Likewise. I hope you enjoy your stay here. My staff are ready to cater to your every need.” Was there something else you needed to do? Was there a piece of etiquette you were missing? There had to be, why would the young Iida still be bent at the knee if you did say the right words?

Your question is answered as the elder Iida taps his son on the shoulder. “That will be enough Tenya.”

The boy straightens immediately, his face pink with sheepishness. “Right!”

Looking him in the eyes, a smile creeps its way onto your face. 

He was cute. 

“Pardon me Tenya Iida-”

“Yes princess!”

“Would you like to join my friends and I for a game?”

He looks put off, but soon a look of excitement replaces it. 

“I would!”

Now friends, Tenya stayed at the castle to become a squire, and became somewhat of a guard

He was now a decent acquaintance, someone you enjoyed being around. Surprisingly he grew to like your little touches and was accustomed to how you would cling to him when you were afraid. It was endearing. But unfortunately it didn't last after your quirk finally presented itself.

Now at age 14, you couldn't see yourself without your friend by your side. Iida had fully integrated himself into your clique of ladies in waiting and squires. Your shyness seemed like it was finally out of your system, allowing you to bloom and show your potential as Crown Princess! 

Walking in the market place with Tenya by your side, you greet the people by name, having jotted down notes ages ago to help remember the faces of your kingdom. 

“Isn't this wonderful?” You question your friend as you examine a dressmakers shop, peering in through the window before the scent of honey bread pulls you away to the bakery. “Everyone is so lively and peaceful. After the contract with the Todoroki’s, everything has been tranquil.”

Tenya hums in agreement, his eyes glued on the dress you were staring at moments before. He moves along with you after you give his hand a small tug. 

The hand holding was a small rule of yours- of his. Ever since he lost track of you in a market place at the age of 8, he vowed to hold onto you whenever you two went out. He didn't want to risk losing the future queen. And his best friend. 

Suddenly you feel a warmth course through your body. In an instant you jerk your hand away from his and use it to. stable yourself by holding onto the table behind you. 

The baker screams. “Look at what you've done!”

“Princess!” Tenya reaches out to you before halting, looking at something on the ground.

In fear, you look at yourself, wondering if something had spilled onto your clothes, but there was nothing there. Next, you check your arms. It is from your arms that you realize what has happened.

Your quirk, after years of waiting, had finally shown itself. 

What used to be a simple wooden table with baskets of bread on top, was now solid gold. The metal had already begun creeping down to the ground beneath you and up your arms and legs.

You screech and back away, scared to touch anything else around you.

The townsfolk watch in amazement as the creeping gold stops in its tracks, slowly pooling back to the table where it stayed there. 

“Princess-” Tenya attempts to reach out for you only to be waved away. Your heart was beating out of your chest, gold hued tears spilling from your eyes. “Please- don't touch me- I don't want to hurt you.”

Slowly clenching his now empty hand into a fist, he nods. “Lets get you to the castle.” Removing his cloak, he drapes it over your shoulders and guides you back to the castle.

He doesn't touch you.

Your quirk was dubbed the golden touch, a blessing and a curse

Once news spread about your ability to turn normal objects into pure gold, you become the most highly sought royal of the nine kingdoms. This meant you would need even more guards than ever. It was not at all an ideal situation for you, as your parents now were questioning whether finding a suitor with a strong quirk would be better than simply hiring arms. 

You fought against it, not wanting your life to be dictated by a quirk you didn't want. For 14 years you were quirkless, for 14 years you were happy, why now did it choose now to ruin that happiness?

Learning that Tenya was a potential knight of your personal guard left you winded.. Or in your case, glowing

Now at the age of 18, often hiding away from the public and sometimes even your own friends, in fear that your emotions would stir up trouble, you are met with a letter that could potentially change the course of your life. Possibly.. if you could convince your parents. See, you were the Crown Princess, the future Queen. Queens weren't supposed to fawn over their knight.. but maybe you could be the exception?

Tugging open the heavy wooden doors of your room you walk across the lounge area to the staircase leading up the turret. It was from the turret where you sat at the balcony and watched the world from above. You didn't have much say in the matter on when you could leave the castle now that every thief and king knew of your quirk, but this balcony did offer some reprieve from your loneliness. 

“Don't get too close to the railing princess, we've already replaces it twice now.” A familiar groggy tone says from beneath you. You look into the tired eyes of the Captain of the Guard, Aizawa Shota. His scarf was partially bound around his fists as he pulled several of the knight trainees closer to him. “Turn it to gold again and you'll be signaling to every mercenary in the land which room you are in.”

With a sigh you step back and adjust your elbow length gloves to keep your skin from touching the metal bars. “I understand.” 

He mumbles under his breath before turning his attention back to the recruits in front of him. There was around twenty in total, some you recognized from your old travels in the town outside of the castle. But there was one that caught your attention and held on tight.

Tenya Iida. 

The same rush of warmth hits you as you run back into your room, holding the wall as you spiral downstairs. Unbeknownst to you, your golden touch seeped right through the gloves, turning the turret walls and steps pure gold. Only when you were in your room pacing back and forth with cheeks as red as a rose did you see the mess you had made. Nearly everything you came in contact with was gold, even your hands. 

Looking into a mirror, you whisper in horror as gold flecks spread up your neck like an expensive collar. “Why is this happening?”

Always the gentleman, Tenya came to your aid

“Princess?” A knock resonates through the room. “I saw you earlier- I don't mean to intrude but it would be dishonorable of me to leave a girl to cry alone!”

You pull the door open slightly, peering up at him with wet eyelashes and a pink nose. “You saw me cry?”

He halts his prepared speech, his mouth open as he tries to come up with the right words. 

“You.. You looked distressed. So I assumed..”

“You assumed I was going to cry.” You wipe your eyes, a teasing smile on your face. “That’s rather bold of you Sir Iida.”

“I-I-” He bows his head, “I apologize for my bluntness!”

He definitely had potential as a warrior, but you were also focused on something else

You had to admit, as you both grew older, you were more than twitterpated  He was charming and bluntly honest, unlike the suitors you were presented with that would leave you in tears of frustration. Did you need to lower your standards in order to make your family happy? You didn't think so. And beyond that, Tenya was a knight, one who came from a noble family. His pedigree wasn't important to you, but it would definitely help in getting your parents approval.

Observing the trainees from above, you take deep and slow breathes to keep your heart beat steady. With a few months of testing your quirk, you've realized it was emotional based. Rather than golden touch, it was more of a golden aura. It reacted with you. 

But it was difficult to keep your heart at ease when Tenya Iida came into the picture. 

Your heart skips a beat when the sound of his laughter raises to your turret. He was with Midoriya and Ochako, your lady in waiting most definitely there to keep her sights on the green haired knight. How you wished you could join them. Laughing with them. Talking like you had before. 

Tenya looks up at you from his spot below. He didn't have his glasses on, and his hair was slicked back to keep out of his eyes after his long training session with Aizawa. He smiles and waves. “Good evening Princess! How about joining us today? I can assure your safety.”

The tiles underneath you turn a rose gold as your heart stops. 

Could you join him?

Aizawa was the best wingman you could hope for

By some heavenly fortune, the Captain of the Guard saw your struggle and stepped in. Why he did it? He said nothing. Maybe it was because he could smell the desperation rolling of the two of you and grew tired of it.

“Just get down here Princess, I’m going to be here the whole time.” Aizawa motions you down. “If you don't join us he won't focus, and that will cost the head of whoever he spars with.” 

The blood flushes from the face of a blonde knight looking extremely uncomfortable at the prospect of sparring with the young Iida. 

“Ah- Okay, I'll be down soon.” You catch a glimpse of Uraraka giving you a thumbs up, missing the way Tenya watches you with a look of excitement mixed with dread. 

Of course he wanted you to join him and your other friends, but.. He hadn't been as close to you ever since your quirk presented, what if he stumbled or messed up while you were watching? Would you think less of him? Would you kick him off of your guard? Would you be ashamed of being his friend? Or were you no longer friends?!

His engines begin to smoke as he panics, his face blank though his mind was running a mile a minute.

Damn your shyness!

Taking the stairs two at a time, you scramble to your vanity to check your hair and add small touch-ups of makeup before launching yourself out of the room. You barely remember to inform the guards at your door of where you were headed before continuing your journey to the training grounds.

What did you do to deserve such a perfect vantage point to watch them? To have the opportunity to see your knights train? Or rather, to see Tenya, a boy who for the years you've known him, refused to train in front of you. 

And now not only was he inviting you to watch, but even the Captain of the guard agreed to it!

Finally at the front doors of the castle, you brush the tulle layers of your dress and do a once over. Everything was in place, and you had no spots of gold to rat out the thrumming heart in your chest. You looked fine!

Taking the left path to reach the training grounds, you can’t help but pick up the scent of smoke. It was odd, but you knew where the smell was coming from. It had to be Iida. He was the only one with a quirk that gave off the smell of smoking fruit. An odd combination, but you were used to it after all the times he short circuited as a child by bump in trees. 

What was he stressed out about?

Thats what you would ask when you found him, but instead, he found you.

Turns out he was just as shy as you 

Iida had spent a good five minutes pacing in a circle, pressing the fine grass into odd circles. He wasn't ready! He was definitely not ready for you to see him! You were his princess, someone he held in the highest regard, and someone he wanted to protect. Ever since he met you and discovered what kind of person you were, he vowed to become a knight so you could rely on him. You were infinitely precious to him, and so he worked hard every day so he could protect your smile. 

“Aizawa Sensei-” His engines were roaring to life, and he couldn't help but run. Where he was running to? He didn't know. But before his captain could order him back he was already running around the side of the castle to reach the front doors. He assumed you would get to the grounds by the side doors, but life had it out for him as he bumped into you and took a tumble to the ground.

Your golden aura was your second best wingman

When words failed to work, your quirk led the way. It was emotionally activated after all.

Iida’s eyes are as wide as dinner plates as he sees you laying underneath him, excuses were sticking to his tongue, unable to come out as he processed the vulgar situation. 

Which, wasn't as vulgar as he saw it. You were laying on the grass next to him, half underneath him as he used an arm to prop himself up in order to keep from crushing you. 

“Ah-!” He sits up swiftly, bowing until his head was pressed flat against the grassy floor. “My humblest apologies Princess! I didn't mean to hurt you!” 

You slowly sit up, plucking a blade of grass from your hair, seeing it had turned gold under your touch. In fact, gold was already spreading from your body to your clothes and to the earth below.

But this time, you didn't feel embarrassed. 

“Tenya?”

The young knight raises his head to look at you, his face tight with anxiety. 

You reach out your hand and cup his cheek, allowing a golden glow to cover you both. You smile and place a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “Its alright.”

[slygirl666]

Call me your love

The beginning

Fred Weasley x Lestrange!reader 

historical au: 1800′s 

warnings: none for this chapter, will eventually be an 18+ story. probably not historically accurate, I kinda don't care 

will most likely be on Wattpad too (might change the name please help me with it)

An eight year old Y/N Lestrange walked with her mother to their carriage. It was a rare time she was allowed out of the manor. They had stopped in a dress shop because Lady Lestrange needed to get Y/N a dress that was appropriate for a funeral.

The Funeral of the Mr. and Mrs. Potter, a well respected wealthy family. Though Y/N didn’t know them she did know that they were dear to cousin Sirius’ heart. So dear that their nine year old boy was left in his care.

Sirius had invited his own family seeing how the potters didn’t have any living.

Y/N sat as still as possible while an older lady took measurements of her and her mother looked at materials.

When Y/N had gotten back into her proper clothes she sat patiently waiting for her mother to finish. She played with the pendant that fell over her dress.

When her mother was finished she walked out to the busy streets of london she felt a hand on her wrist as she was pulled away from her mother.

She was pulled behind a shop where she was met with the dirty face of a young boy slightly older than her whose smile spelled trouble.

“Do you have money, miss?” the boy whispered almost ashamed. His eyes not meeting hers. She took a moment to take in his appearance. His trousers had holes in them, he was barefoot on the dirt street, his bright orange hair had dusty areas in it.

“No I don't,” Y/N almost felt bad for him. She looked for something to give him before reaching for her necklace. “Why do you need the money, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“My family has none, miss, see I have six siblings,” his hazel eyes finally met your tears in them with a hint of shame. “We might starve if my brothers and I don’t find away to get money for them.”

So Y/N Lestrange made the decision to unclasp the necklace and put it in his hand, “sell it, it can get you a few galleons.”

“I’ll never forget this, miss I’ll owe you for the rest of my life.

Y/N finally hears the distant yell of her mother, “i have to go.”

She walked off and the little redhead boy knew he would never see her again.

***ten years later***

An eighteen year old Y/N sat in a carriage with her cousin Sirius Black and the boy Harry Potter as the view of the Lestrange manor became smaller with each turn of the wheel.  

Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange had died of an illness that went undetected until it was too late.

Y/N sat silently in the seat of the carriage, her parents weren’t the most loving. She was mostly raised by a nanny, rather than being educated she was encouraged to do more ladylike activities like needle point and music. But they were her parents, her  blood.

Her aunt Andromeda had married poor and was disowned so she could not live with her, her aunt Narcissa’s husband was much too busy a man for another child to be around.

Her cousin Sirius said he had more than enough room for her to stay, with a cousin she didn’t know hours away from her childhood.

Sirius had fallen asleep an hour into the ride, Harry Potter finally spoke. “Miss Lestrange, I know it isn’t much but I do understand. Living with Sirius is an interesting time yes but I do hope we can be friends.”

“That would be nice and given the circumstances of our situation why don’t you call me Y/N” she tried her best to smile.

“Only if you agree to calling me Harry.” he smiled.

The two sat for the other hour of the trip with polite conversation between the two of them.

When the carriage came to a halt the redhead man came down to open the doors, Sirius laughed. “We aren’t normally so formal but we are trying to make a good impression here.”

Sirius waved his hand in the direction of the tall stocky man with his red hair tied lowly behind him. “This is Charlie Weasley, he is our driver, when he is not doing that he can be found in the farm.”

“Goodday, miss Lestrange it is exciting to meet you,” he helped her out by hand.

“That is very kind of you to say.” she smiled as she walked off with her cousin.

Sirius opened the door to Grimwald manner and yelled out, “Ginniveria!”

A thin girl in a simple dress that went to her calf walked in. she looked to be around your age which excited you. “yes Sirius, and you know it's Ginny.”

Y/N was startled at the lack of formality, but eased as Sirius laughed and apologized. “This is Ginny Weasley, she does a lot of the house keeping, she will be showing you around.”

Sirius dismissed himself as Harry said he must be off to study, nodding shyly to Ginny.

“Well miss Lestrange, I can show you around, your room is prepared, but the boys will be bringing your stuff up so we can see the grounds.”

Y/N followed the excited girl as she spewed facts about what was in the house and her family. She learned that all the weasleys but two worked in the house, her mother was the cook, her father repaired around the house with the youngest of her  brothers, two of them worked the stables and Charlie took care of the farm animals.

To Y/N it seemed like a lot of people doing so many things.

When they reached the stables Ginny called out for her brothers, “Fredrick, George!”

That's when all of a sudden a young man with bright red hair appeared behind them spooking his sister and Y/N in the process. Ginny hit him with her arm, “fredric you absolute pr-”

“No no sister,” he tisked at her, “we have to make a good first impression don't we?”

He gave her a wink she scoffed, “cause you're doing so well aren't you?”

“Feisty, ain't she?” she took her hand bringing it to his lips eyes locking with hers. “Frederick weasley Miss Lestrange, Happy to meet you.”

“Well Frederick. I do enjoy horses and think you will be seeing me quite a bit.”

“I'll look forward to it,” something in his hazel eyes was awfully familiar though she couldn’t quitte place why.  Ginny grabbed her wrist pulling her back to the house.

Ginny led Y/N to her room, multiple trunks containing her entire life were there. “Could you help me unpack?”

“Yes miss,” she smiled, opening one of them expertly making her way around the room. “You know other than my mother who hardly counts, I’m never around other girls. I do hope we can be friends.”

The thought of making friends with a girl who worked for her would have scandalized Y/N’s mother. But she had never had any friends her own age other than her cousin, “I think I’d like that, call me Y/N please.”

Ginny smiled and continued helping her unpack, Y/N looked around the room, some one had put flowers on the dresser that she recognized from the field outside. Y/N smiled knowing Ginny placed them there.

“I should go help Mum set up for supper, I’ll come get you beforehand.” Ginny walked out closing the door, it was funny she had only just arrived today and they treated her so warmly.

Y/N moved to the chest that she knew carried her more casual dresses moving to take off her heavily layered dress.

That in itself took a good amount of time, after redressing she moved to the vanity beginning to take out the intricate pins and overly done curls, running a brush through them. Struggling to put it up.

With a knock at the door Ginny entered the room. “Do you want some help?”

Y/N nodded letting Ginny take the brush before putting delicate braids on either side of her hair tying it back with a grey ribbon.

They walked together to the dining room. Y/N was surprised to see the large family of redheads also sitting at the large dining table. She knew her parents would hate it, she smiled to herself. Her cousin was so kind to the people who work for them she almost wondered why.

But she sat happily joining them for supper.

* * *

Waking up in a room that wasn’t her own was a strange feeling, Ginny opened the room's curtains before getting a simple shirt and long skirt for her to wear.

“You’ll be joining Harry in his studies today,” she made the bed as Y/N got out of it. “Your afternoon is free.”

“But i-”

“Hurry now, breakfast will be finished in a minute.” Ginny helped her get into her skirts, getting as Y/N buttoned up her shirt to the neck. Putting her hair back into a subtle half up style.

The two girls went down the stairs chatting. Like the night before the Weasley family was at the breakfast table.

Harry and the youngest Weasley boy were having a conversation, the twins, Frederick and George, recalled laughing at the expense of Charlie Who seemed annoyed. While Molly, Sirius and Aurther had a quiet conversation. Ginny sat next to one of the twins leaving an open space on the edge of the table. Y/N sat eating her breakfast quietly just observing the odd way everyone interacted.

“Miss Lestrange, how did you settle in on your first night?” one of the twins turned his attention to her. Taking a sip of her tea noticing the sudden silence.

“My first night was well,” she smiled at him sweatley. “You all have been very inviting, I’m grateful for that.”

“And your room?” Sirius smiled at her.

“It’s lovely, Ginny has lovely taste.” she laughed, winking at the redhead girl.

There was a knock at the door. Ginny excused herself to answer the door.  Behind ginny a tall man with dusty hair and a scared face walked in.

The adults greeted him with a warm ‘remus’ but the weasley kids and Harry called out ‘mr.Lupin.’

He smiled at everyone greeting them by name, “you must be miss Lestrange, i'm the tutor you will be working with.”

You hesitated before thinking better of telling everyone one about your education status.

When the Weasleys began to excuse themselves you spoke up, “cousin, may I have a word?”

“Of course Y/N what seems to be the problem,” sirius looked concerned as he set his tea down.

“Well, you see my mother was a bit old fashioned when it came to where a woman should stand in society,” you started as Sirius nodded. “They did not let my nanny educate me past basic reading, enough to write a simple letter even. I’m just afraid that I won’t be able to keep up with Harry.”

“Yes, I can see where that is a genuine concern,” he smiled warmly. “If you would like I could look to find you a different tutor willing to work at your speed. I would use Remus but Harry's studies take a lot of his time and he has other students.”

“That would be wonderful, cousin sirius,” you smiled sweetly to him.

“Y/N, given the fact we are family you could call me just Sirius.” you felt a wave of relief wash through you.

That's when Ginny ran back into the dining room, “Mum needs me to pick up more fruits from the store. May Charlie and I go?”

“Of course Ginny, Y/N why don’t you go see the town with Ginny,” you looked taken aback. To go into town unsupervised. “Charlie will be with the two of you.”

“We can go to mrs.Kranes,” Ginny turned her attention to Sirius. “Y/N doesn't really have any simple dresses.”

“That's great Ginny,” You watched as Sirius pulled out a key and unlocked a box. He pulled out a coin pouch handing it to you. “Enough for two dresses for you, and one for Ginny if she would like something.”

Ginny grabbed your hand pulling you outside to the farm, “Charles!”

The closer we got to the more we could hear the Squeal and heavy breathing of a pig, “what’s wrong Gin?”

“We have to go get things for mum from the town.” her voice flattered seeing charlie hold a small piglet. “Ask Fred, He shouldn’t be too busy and he knows how the carriage works.”

“All right charlie, tell us when the litter is born.” Ginny turned to the door leading you to the stables.

“Freddie!” you took note that Ginny really liked yelling when she called for her brothers. “Charlie said you were the driver while May was having her baby’s.”

Both twins walked out of stalls across from each other. “Okay, where are we going?”

“Nice try George,” Ginny smiled to the one on the right. “Fred get ready we'll be ready in an hour.”

Ginny once again pulled you back to the manor.

[s-creations]

Hatching Day

José wished he could say he was prepared to raise children. But his past life and self-doubt leads him to think he's not as ready as he promised he would be.

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros       Rating: General Audience       Relationships/Pairings:  José  Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: Self-Doubt, Depsression, These are minor but still talked about, Hatching, The babies are arriving!

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Hello there! I will say, as a bit of a warning, maybe(?), that I'm unaware of José's or Panchito's cannon family members or relationships with their family. There's a lot of creative liberties being used in this AU to match what I want to write. This is just a heads up.

Edit on 02/20/2021: I changed a few words and fixed a few sentences. Nothing major.

José was not much of a ‘family’ person. His own was small and very close minded. It was the father’s way, the man of the house ran the show. You kept your mouth shut or you would be on the receiving end of some punishment. José had left as soon as he could, at the age of 16. No matter how much his mother begged or his father threatened. He left them behind and was honestly better for it. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

 That didn’t mean any relation after this meant much of anything either. They never lasted long. José knew his looks attracted a lot of attention. Parrots were not uncommon. Even more so where he grew up and lived. But his plumage was eye catching and he knew it. Vibrant green was adored and sought after by many. So, while his appearance could draw anyone’s attention in, whatever relationship that could happen fell apart quickly.

 Apparently José’s personality wasn’t too pleasing. Once the charisma fell away, people weren’t thrilled with the parrot’s worries or morose outlook on life. They were expecting to have a carefree parrot with vibrant feathers and an equally blinding personality to cling to their arm. Not a burden. Which was something José had heard numerous times. He quickly learned to play the part of the charmer and leave as quickly as possible the next day. 

 That was how he lived for years. 

 Until he met Panchito. 

 The rooster had been drawn in by the bright plumage, just as others before. José, however, was truthfully curious about the overly friendly and energetic bird. One that seemed to have the parrot stay with him while Panchito soaked in the culture. Curiosity turned to a dangerous attachment that José wasn’t prepared for. One he thought was going to eventually fall away when the rooster realized he didn’t want the parrot around. Only to be taken by the hand, allowing Panchito to take him away from Bahia, back to Mexico where the rooster lived. 

 It was the first time the parrot had experienced someone truly caring for him. Panchito more than patient when José couldn’t carry the suave personality any longer. When he just wanted to hide away and not face the world. Panchito made it clear that he didn’t love the parrot for the facade. He just wanted José. And it was something the parrot struggled with understanding for a while. 

 Just as he was getting comfortable in their relationship and happily traveled around Mexico with Panchito, they attended a local bar that was playing host to the American Navy. Where they met a duck with an interesting accent, a short fuse, and feathers so white it was blinding in the proper light. The relationship with Donald did start as a friendship. But was something that changed to admiration when he showed how fiercely loyal he was. When, on a night out, a stranger had gotten a little too ‘friendly’ with José. It was an amazing show that only lasted a few seconds. The duck knocked the other down with one hit and was making sure José was okay before anyone could even blink. 

 It all turned to painful longing when Donald had to leave. As they watched the ship leave shore, José felt his heart breaking. Turning to the rooster to find a similar look of longing on Panchito’s face as well. It was a silent agreement between the two that, if they ever found Donald again, they wouldn’t let him go. 

 It was a few years later, in a small village in the middle of the jungle, when they found the duck again. Donald seemed to be there with his Great Uncle Scrooge McDuck (the heck!?) and his twin sister Della Duck. The three were there to hunt down some treasure that José doesn’t remember the name of. It didn’t matter as Donald was just as thrilled upon seeing the other two as they were to see him. 

 That evening was spent hidden in a hotel room. Avoiding the heavy rain and scrutinizing eye of Scrooge as they hung around his nephew. The water falling heavily outside hid the already quiet confessions. Tentative kisses were exchanged before they huddled together on the small bed, falling asleep with smiles on their faces. 

 José was shocked but extremely happy when Donald told Scrooge the next morning that he was staying with the parrot and rooster. The older duck was not happy with the idea of leaving his nephew with birds he’d had never met before. It could have turned into an all out fight if  Della hadn’t saved the day by saying it would be best for Donald to take a break from their normal, adventuring routine. Giving the duck a chance to explore the world in his own way. Let him live his life for once.

 If the glare from Scrooge held any indication, he was somehow aware of the budding relationship between the three birds. And was no doubt less than pleased that his nephew was running off with these strangers. But José couldn’t honestly care less. He was with the two people he loved the most in his life and who understood him. The following year and a half was spent traveling the world. Barely a penny to their names, doing performances at hole-in-the-wall bars to make sure they had food and shelter for the night.

  It was a time the parrot liked to reflect on when Donald had to leave them. 

 Their travels came to a halt when Scrooge contacted his nephew. Saying there was one final adventure he needed the duck’s help on. In turn, Donald bargained that he was only going to give up one year to help with this new journey. José still felt a worrying sickness when he and Panchito saw the duck off. Even with the number of times the duck promised he would be back soon. The parrot felt as if there was a dark cloud over the horizon.

 One year turned to two. Donald kept in contact as best he could. Saying the final adventure had a number of unforeseen hurdles. Two became three. Now there was talk of Della carrying. Frustration coming from Donald because his sister was still determined to finish this one final adventure.

 It was halfway through year three that José felt that storm finally hit. He and Panchito began to worry when Donald hadn’t checked in during his normal time. Which only grew when their calls went unanswered. Leaving message after message with someone named Duckworth in hopes that Donald would get back to them soon. It all came to a worrying conclusion when they found the reason for the sudden silence when they reached out to Fethry in a final, desperate act. Only to be hit in the gut when the scatterbrained duck explained what had been happening. 

 The spaceship that took years to build and perfect. Della’s sudden pregnancy, which caused an uproar among the Duck/McDuck family as she wouldn’t tell who the father was. While they’d been aware of Della’s determination of this final adventure, José and Panchito felt sick when they learned that she wanted to fly the spaceship. Even when carrying and finally delivering the eggs, it was all she talked about doing. Then she stole the spaceship the adventuring family had been working on for so long in the middle of the night and left. 

 Just left. No note. No message. Nothing.

 José felt a sickening furry slowly build up within. What kind of person just leaves their own unhatched children? This new adventure wasn’t worth it! The parrot was ready to tell Fethry to let them talk to Della, so he could give her a piece of his mind, wondering why she thought a late night cruise among the stars was okay, when they were told she was gone. An unforeseen obstacle bringing her untimely end. Scrooge and Donald were no longer speaking with each other and the younger duck taking over caring for Della’s unhatched eggs.

 José and Panchito were on the first flight to American they could get. In less than three months afterwards, they were all married, living in a comfortable apartment, holding well paying jobs, and raising three eggs. 

 And José was honestly terrified. 

 He didn’t regret moving, or marrying, or finally settling down. But raising kids? Was he stable enough for that? Donal and Panchito were comforting and supporting when the parrot wasn’t in his best form. But they were aware of what was happening, they were adults. José didn’t have to say anything and they understood. Children were too young to understand why one of their caretakers might be smiling one day and closed off the next. 

 Would José have the same anger issues like his own father? 

 He shivered weakly at the thought, his buzzing mind finding relief when Panchito shifted in his sleep. The parrot tensing as he waited for the other to settle back down before relaxing himself. Donald, who was clinging onto the parrot’s back, mumbled weakly as he nuzzled against the green feathered neck. Despite the comfort and warmth, José still could not fall asleep. Eyes wandering back over to the crib where the eggs were resting.

 They’d been warned by the doctor that the eggs would be hatching soon. Any day in fact. Donald went on full alert to duckling proof the apartment and having the nursery properly prepped. Panchito had been hit with sudden inspiration, pulling up numerous lullabies and stories he wanted to share when the eggs hatched. And José...started to silently panic.

 He shivers again feeling a beak gently preen over the top of his head. Which quieted the spinning thoughts. 

 “I can hear your busy mind.” Panchito whispered, José hearing the exhaustion in his voice.

 “Desculpe querido.”

 “What’s wrong?”

 José pressed closer. Hands slowly brushing through the red feathers. “...What if they hate me?”

 “Who, the eggs? Why would you think that?”

 “With my job, I am going to be gone for so many days at a time. Will they forget about me every time? Will I just be the stranger that lives with them? And you know that I am…” He swallowed, burying himself into the crook of Panchito’s neck. “...What if I do not love them? What if it is just a neutral relationship? What am I going to do?”

 “Shhh, cálmate mi amor. The fact you’re so worried about this shows me how much you care. You can’t judge on something that hasn’t happened yet. And do you truly think we wouldn’t talk about you when you’re away? They will know so much about you it will be like you never left.” 

 José sighed softly. “You make it sound so easy.”

 “Because it is. Now, calm your head and get some sleep.”

 “...Chito? Can you…”

 “Of course, get comfortable.”

 The parrot did as requested. Moving his head back down to rest properly on Panchito’s chest, Donald settled back down as well. José smiled softly when the beak returned to the top of his head. Smoothing through the feathers as José felt himself finally drift off to sleep.

 __________________________

 It was two days later when the eggs hatched.

 José was watching over them in the living room. Resting on the sofa while the eggs were in a cloth nest on the floor nearby. Donald and Panchito working on cleaning the kitchen after dinner. It was calm. The definition of domestic bliss. Until the parrot heard the first crack. 

 His eyes instantly snapped over to the bundle of fabric. Scanning over each egg, briefly wondering if he had just imagined the sound. Only to find a small crack forming along the top of an egg. That grew further pronounced as the seconds ticked by.

 “Hatching…” José was able to weakly force out, barely above a whisper. 

 “What’s wrong?” Panchito turned away from the soapy water. 

 “The eggs are hatching.”

 There was the sound of shattering porcelain. Donald had allowed the plate he was supposed to be putting away in the cupboard to slip from his hands. The duck’s eyes wide with shock. “What...did you say?”

 José was spared repeating his answer when another crack sounded. Louder this time and followed by small peeps. 

 “Oh, okay!” Donal turned only to falter over figuring out what he needed to grab first. “Oh Selene, it’s actually happening. Um-”

 “¡Cuidadoso! The plate! You don’t want to cut yourself.” Panchito advised, offering a hand to keep Donald balanced as he stepped over the pieces. 

 “Right, you’re right. Um, we just...we need… What do we need?”

 José faltered slightly when the egg cracked again, the frantic sounds coming from the kitchen were not helping his nerves. 

 “¡Acalme-se!” The two others froze in their spot, eyes traveling over to the parrot. Who was letting out a slow breath. “Alright, pay attention. Donald, get the broom and dusting pan. Clean up the dish then come out here. Panchito, I need clean towels and warm water. Warm. Not hot. If it is so much for you, it will be too much for them. We will need them in order to get them clean and dried. We also need towels to wrap them in once they are cleaned. Once you have that come out here.”

 Both nodded before breaking away to complete their given tasks. Still trying to calm his nerves, José sat back down, placing a hand on part of the unbroken shell while he picked away pieces. 

 “Hey little one, you are doing great. Just keep pushing. You are almost out.” The parrot let out a small noise of glee when a yellow face suddenly broke free from the egg. Feathers slick and matted down, sticking to the pink skin underneath. A small beak ‘peeped’ softly sounding before the duckling started chipping away again. “There you are… They are breaking out, I can see one!”

 “We’re here, we’re here.” Donald panted weakly as he set a bowl filled with warm water down with an arm full of clean towels. Panchito sliding into the other side of José, letting out small coos and words of encouragement as they watched. 

 That's how all three sat. Pressed together as they gave gentle words, the duckling continuously pushing its way out. There was a collective gasp as the egg finally gave way. The duckling falling out and landing on his stomach. Squirming in the blanket nest as they attempted to right themselves. Donald reacted first. Carefully holding the small form up as his free hand dampened a cloth. Wiping gently over the new feathers and clearing the gunk away from the duckling’s eyes.

 Once cleared away, the eyes opened to reveal a deep amber color. Looking almost brown in a different light. 

 There was no time to rest as the next egg began to break free. As it was closer to Panchito, the rooster grabbed his own cloth to prep. It took less time for this duckling to arrive. While the first seemed to be methodical with its freedom, searching for the best way out, this duckling was more determined to break out as fast as possible. In it’s excitement, the duckling flopped out onto his back. Arms and legs moving frantically as it tried to sit back up. 

 “Aguanta pequeño. You took a bit of a tumble.” Panchito laughed as he cradled the small form close. He cleaned the eyes, both opening to reveal bright blue. The duckling gave a small giggle as they grabbed their feet. “Awww! They’re so eager!”

 José laughed softly at the scene before his attention shifted to the final egg. As the seconds passed, worry started to grow. The parrot’s legs eventually started to bounce as they waited. “The color is still good… How long do we wait? Do we even have a small enough tool to help and not hurt them?”

 Panchito gave a smile and gently preened José’s neck. “It’s only. We just need to be patient. Let them figure it out.”

 That didn’t calm José in the slightest. It was a few more tense moments before the first crack formed. Even then, all three were on edge and it took longer for the first section shell to break away. With a break in the egg, the duckling still seemed to be struggling. Being cautious, the parrot reached forward to help break more away.

 “José…” Donald’s tone held worry and a warning.

 “I think they need help. If a duckling is unable to break free on their own, parents or guardians are allowed to help.” The parrot argued back, continuing his work. A small form flopped into the parrot’s open hand soon, giving a small peep of confusion as they clung onto the parrot’s feathers. Grabbing his own cloth, José continued to speak calmly as he could while cleaning the residue off. 

 Eyes of forest green were soon looking up at José. Head tilting as the duckling seemed to be determining what exactly the parrot was. “Someone appears to be the curious type.”

 The parrot flinched slightly when a cream colored blanket entered his field of vision. Donald gave a smile before shaking the blanket again. Giving a nod of thanks, José took it and easily swaddled the duckling.

 “That was skillfully handled.” The duck casually commented. 

 “I have watched a lot of videos about this. Covered as much information I possibly could. Even asked some of the mother flight attendance for advice. I...I just didn’t know what to expect.” José flushed softly when a kiss was placed on his cheek. Turning to look at Donald, who smiled back.

 “I knew you were ready for this. You were worried for nothing.” 

 The parrot huffed as his cheeks darkened. Feathers ruffled when he stared down a sheepish looking Panchito. “Did you tell Donald.”

 “If it keeps you up at night, then it’s an issue we all need to be aware of!”

 José’s retort was cut short when a disgruntled peeping sound was heard. The duckling in his arms had their face screwed up, legs kicking as best they could in the swaddle. “Oh, they...they are hungry.”

 “I’ll get the bottles.” Donald easily passed his duckling over to the parrot before standing and heading to the kitchen.

 Own duckling finally calming down, Panchito carefully closer to the parrot. He and José leaned against each other as they admired the small bundles they held. The first was in a state of just about to fall asleep. The middle was still wiggling around, but was thankfully staying in the swaddle. The third was still, eyes cautiously looking around as if trying to assess the situation. José marveled at how young they were and how their personalities were already coming through. 

 His heart swelled with absolutely adoration with every second that passed. Bending down to carefully move his beak through the fluffy yellow feathers. The green eyed triplet chirped, giving a wobbly smile as José pulled away. The parrot felt himself just melt. He was so unbelievably happy at that moment.

 “We need names.” Panchito suddenly said.

 ...Aw phooey. 

[imnotwolverine]

The Monster’s Lair - A Belle Tune

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

Chapter 1 - A Belle Tune | Chap 2 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - stalking, mild injury, angsty vibes

Author’s note: Here we go dear readers, a whole new series!! As I was setting out the plotline I kept saying to myself; “Let’s make this 3-5 chapters, a short series, okay, Wolfie?” ...Welp... Apparently I have many talents, but writing short series is not one of them. I’ve tried again and again to reshape the plot into a shorter, snappier version, but I just couldn’t. So, here goes; 12 chapters of broody vampire Henry and sweet Belle. I hope you are ready ❤️

Word count: 1.991

Reading music: Agnes Obel - Tokka 

(Link to my Masterlist)

-

It was the first day of Autumn, summer finally past, as a tale of old was sung anew.

The land was cracked open dry and dusty after months without rain, the crops starting to fail just before harvest season. It made the tensions run high amongst the town folk, their worried eyes aiming upwards. The air had been thick for days now, the clouds drifting heavy and grey on dreary skies, foreboding a long awaited storm that just wouldn’t break.

And yet, not all were worried. At this moment the morning air felt slightly cheery too, as a soft tune wove through the ancient pine tree forest that lay like a prickly blanket over the rolling hills. 

It was a familiar tune, sung by a familiar woman’s voice, her pale skin and dark braided hair a sight he saw often in these parts of the land. Before her, two mutts sniffled happily, their wet noses pushing through the fallen leaves and shrubs that covered the dry forest floor. 

From the shadows of that same thicket, he was watching her, watching her rosy lips curl up in that dreamy smile, her feet kicking her blue skirts with confident strides.

Belle, he knew her name by now, was one of the few who dared to wander so close to his grounds, his domain, her skirts rustling as she conjured a book from the depths of her pockets. Always reading. 

At first he had been somewhat surprised to see a woman of her position even owning a book, a proper book. Her father was but a poor horse handler and her family long deceased. 

But, indeed, she could read. 

With an elegant hand she brushed down her skirts before sitting down on that same fallen down tree that she used everyday; her hide-out whenever the weather allowed. Clicking her tongue she instructed her dogs to lay down, her hand flicking through the book, returning to the page where she had left off a day ago.

Away from the snarky remarks and jealous whispers of the town folk, here she could read as dawn cracked over the horizon, her presence welcomed by the listening embrace of the forest and its inhabitants. The birds quieted their song and the mice and squirrels halted their squabbling, just long enough to look and listen, bewitched beady eyes watching the pretty woman as she started to read aloud.

It was an old and leather bound rendering of Apuleius’ Cupid and Psyche, an ancient fairy tale, the book nearly falling apart as she brushed her fingertips over the yellowed, vulnerable pages. She had read it a dozen times now, and yet the monster couldn’t help but listen, his lips moving in a silent joined recital. He knew the words by heart at this point.

What exactly she did by the day time he couldn’t tell, his disposition making it impossible for him to visit town when the sun was out. And thus he would just imagine it. Perhaps she worked as one of the chambermaids for the Les Comtes. Perhaps she helped her father in the stables - he had seen the old man during the nights many a time, his rough hands being ever so gentle with the handsome beasts that belonged to the Les Comtes. In fact all was owned by the Les Comtes, the family so rich that almost all villagers worked for their estate and businesses.  

Far too soon Belle’s voice would silence again, her finger tracing the page she had ended on, memorising it before gently closing the book, her eyes looking up through the thicket of the tree branches, watching those looming clouds up above. He knew what she thought; it was going to rain and she probably couldn’t return to this spot for a long time.

After the rain would come hail, winds, winter. And as it goes with reading outside, her natural reading nook was simply not able to hide her from the elements, and, with her reading hobby sneered at by the town’s folk, this might very well be her last reading session for this year.

With a sigh she got up, calling for her dogs and making her way back to the village, long skirts kicking, her book hidden back in the depths of her pockets. Oh, how he was going to miss her. Even if it was just for a day. Here in the forest he was awaited by an eternal nothingness. No job, no destination, only empty days that wove into a long string of months, years, centuries.

Returning to the crumbling ruins of his castle, the grande structure long past its glory days, he wandered endlessly through its halls, dust collecting on items that shouldn’t ever run into such disuse. Plates, cups, the fireplace, the beds. For centuries now he could not feel the pleasure of the simplicity of life. The food ashen on his tongue. His eyes, though closed, never truly resting. His skin no longer feeling the comfort of a warm hearth. His still beating heart but a mousy whisper of its once roaring strength.

Watching those heavy clouds above the treetops, he knew that it would be long before he would get to hear her voice again. A storm was looming, the long dry spell finally coming to an end and taking with it the long awaited rains. He knew it was a necessity, the listening critters around him feeling desperate for food now winter was soon to arrive, but he couldn’t help but feel a deep disappointment all the same. Because with the dreary days would come even more dark hours for him, the last sparkle of joy ripped from his life until spring would probably come again.  

—

‘Another one dead.’ The hunter growled, heaving the dead dog’s body from his cart, the boneless heap of bled out sinew and fur unceremoniously dropping to the dusty ground. With the ongoing drought, food has become more and more scarce. Crops were failing, wild animals were roaming nearer to the village and despite their best efforts, the hunters had great difficulty to actually catch anything. Something strange was afoot in the forest and rumour was about; it was the beast!

‘So no luck then.’ Arthur said in a hushed tone, his old knees cracking as he squatted down to inspect the remains of the hound. And indeed. Neck cracked, jugular torn, the required strength for such an act belonging to no less than a bear..or beast..of sorts.

‘Twas a mad dog anyways. But still..’ The hunter squinted, looking out over the yellow grassed meadows, to the edge of the forest where that monstrous beast hid away. ‘..we must see to it. The darn thing must be done with once and ..for..’ He blinked, then looked at Arthur with mild confusion. ‘Is that Belle?’ He pointed at a figure that appeared from the tree-line, two dogs at either side of her light blue skirts.

Arthur pushed himself up with a groan and also squinted his eyes, his sight no longer what it had been. ‘If it’s a pretty thing with two mutts, a dress of blue and a smile for days, it must be Belle.’ He said, his vision too blurry to discern anything that resembled his daughter. The hunter gruntled his disapproval, though not denying that it was indeed Belle, his strong, broad shouldered frame turning back to his cart to bring out what few rabbits and pheasants he had managed to catch in his traps. ‘You ought to bring some sense in that girl, Arthur..’ He warned, bushy eyebrows frowning as he looked back at the girl, her skirts twirling as she threw a stick for the dogs to fetch.

‘She is just so very much like her mother.’ Arthur sighed, not fully agreeing with the hunter’s sentiments as his lips curled in an amused smile.

‘Tcould be the death of her, old man. The beast is out there, I know that much. In fact. There’s a meeting in the town hall by sundown, in case you wish to join.’

‘Good..good...’ Arthur nodded, only half-listening now, his eyes finally managing to focus on Belle as she kicked her legs over the wood log fence near the stables he worked, her face all smiles and skirts a muddy mess.

Oh..Belle!

--

The shutters of the barn-like town hall shuddered, the wind outside picking up and the torch flames dancing wildly in the draft. It was a busy night, the floorboards creaking as the town’s men got up from their benches to express their bewilderment and frustrations, loud “Aye’s” and “Nays” echoing in the air as the discussions roared.

Now the food reserves of the town were running low and people had to ration, the tension was near tangible. Winter was coming and the people felt as restless as the storm that was picking up outside. The pigs needed to be fed, the elderly were struggling, sickness was spreading and all fingers pointed angrily at the direction of that wicked forest. The Beast’s forest.

‘Dear people! My people!’ Old Master Le Comte stood up from the throne-like seat that was situated right at the head of the hall, his fatty fingers balancing a shiny cup of wine. He raised his hand to calm the uproar, old furrowy brows raising up to show two grey, beady eyes. ‘Say AYE and agree, that we must see to the end of this beast for once and for all. He threatens our livestock, steals our hunted bounty and his cursed evil talons bring us only disease and misfortune. This drought? I would not be surprised if it were by HIS design!’ He exclaimed.

The town roared up with enthusiasm, fists raised in the air as a loud ‘AYE’ resounded front to back. In fact only the old man Arthur sat quiet, far in the corner, thinking fingers pulling at his moustache. He had discussed the matter with Belle and all she had to say was; “It is indeed quite practical to make a simple minded animal responsible for all your sorrows. But is it right to kill it because you conjured an image of beastly proportion, fed by your own fears? From what I heard he only has killed those who came too close..far too close.” 

‘HELP HELP!! The church! A FIRE!’ The large doors of the hall swung open as a young man burst through, arms waving in despair, the discussions regarding the monster quickly forgotten as everyone made haste to stop the flames as they quickly swept around them, the simple wooden structures of the inner town feeding themselves like perfectly dried logs to the hellish bonfire.  

Arthur looked up from his daze and slowly followed the hastened crowd outside, his feet no longer so fast as he felt a sudden, surprising coolness in his neck. A wet coolness. With a question in his eyes he looked up at the darkened sky, feeling another drop on his wrinkly skin. Rain? Did the gods bless them just in time? Would all be well?

A conclusion made prematurely, as a new alarm was struck from the village’s heart.

‘THE BEAST! TIS THE BEAST!’ The loud screams came from the village square, Arthur’s attention immediately drawn back to the people that sped past him. Oh no..oh no...BELLE! She was alone, she was..

*FLUNK*

With a loud thud Arthur smacked to the ground, his eyes blinking in shock as he saw the person who had bumped into him rush passed, the silhouette of the person already fading from his vision as all he could do was claw into the dusty road, eyes seeing all black.

Oh no...he thought, his body now fading out of consciousness. Belle! She must be warned! She was all alone! The beast..Oh Belle..the beast..and...Belle...

With heavy blinking eyes he scratched and cried, trying to gain the attention of people rushing by, but failing. None could hear or see him as the storm drowned out his wails and the night hid him in unblinking dark, leaving him with little else but hope, hope that Belle’s joyful tunes would indeed not be ended at the slashing of beastly claws, like the hunter had warned him for this morning.

Oh Belle, dear Belle..

--

Chap 2 >

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly​

Vampire!Henry Tagsquad: @elinesama​ @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

If you want to be added to or removed from my tag lists, shoot me a message! 

[the-currian]

I am so excited and happy to present the debut writing project of me and my friends over at the A3! writers’ discord server! Since we’re all A3! content creators, it was probably inevitable that we do a collab ahaha. We’re here to bring you summer vacation vibes, courtesy of the Spring Troupe! My assigned member was Sakuya~ Please do check out the works of my fellow content creators and show them your support!!

My fellow writers this time around are @taruchinator​ @maidstars​ @seasidefallenangel​

Banner made by the lovely Yona!! @animaniachan​

- Jen

Summer Vacation with Sakuya

Sakuya wakes up to the hustle and bustle of the morning of a lively summer weekend. The past weeks of summer were quite the contrast to his previous summer memories. A sense of melancholy takes over him as his mind flashes back to the quiet houses he was shuffled around in his younger days, never quite feeling that he belonged or that he even deserved to partake in the summer festivities. Not that he wasn’t grateful to his relatives for taking him in his time of need, but he always felt like a stranger among his own family.

His thoughts are interrupted by Citron bursting through the door, calling him to the dining room for breakfast.

“Alright, just give me a minute!” Sakuya calls out.

“I will be going in front of you, then!” Citron replies, humming a lively tune as he exits the room.

As Sakuya gets ready to start the day, he grins, thankful for his days now filled with endless warmth and seemingly boundless energy he could bask in from the other members of Mankai.

When he gets to the dining room, Sakuya is surprised to see that all members of the Spring Troupe are present at the table – a rare sight since the Spring Troupe members are definitely not known to be the earliest risers in the company.

“Everyone, good morning!” Sakuya greets with a bright smile before sitting down next to Masumi.

“Oh, Sakuya! Good morning!” Omi replies, placing a plate full of piping hot food for Sakuya down in front of him. “Interesting to see that all of you are up and about together. Guess that covers Spring Troupe’s breakfast. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen cooking up the next batch.”

A chorus of “thank you” comes from the Spring Troupe, and Omi retreats back into the kitchen with a satisfied nod.

“Wow, everyone’s up so early!” Sakuya marvels, not used to having his fellow troupe mates altogether at one table. “What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing, really.” Tsuzuru says before taking a sip of his coffee. Sakuya catches a whiff of it and can tell that it’s strong and black, a potent scent he’s come to associate the tired college student with.

“Now that I think about it, it’s the last few weeks of summer vacation.” Izumi remarks, strolling into the room with a mug of coffee (which smells much sweeter than Tsuzuru’s) in hand. She greets the young men at the table then goes to lean against the kitchen counter. Masumi pouts at the empty seat next to him, but greets the director with his usual enthusiasm.

“Maybe that’s why you boys are up?” Izumi ponders. “It would be a shame to let the last days of the summer pass by quickly. You should all make the most of it.”

“We probably could if a certain yakuza wasn’t so stingy.” Itaru grumbles as he taps away at his phone.

“We can’t help the company’s circumstances.” Izumi chides. Taking in Itaru’s words, Izumi’s eyes close in thought. “But I guess it would be nice to have some recreational funds to use.”

“Actually, we don’t need to spend that much money to make good summer memories.” Tsuzuru cuts in, a gentle smile on his face. “There’s plenty of things we can do right here at the dorms. Growing up with a bunch of hyperactive younger siblings forces you to get creative with how to spend long summer days.”

Citron looks over in interest. “What kinds of things?”

“Paper boat races, fireworks, sprinklers, movie nights, ice cream making…” Tsuzuru rattles off, ticking off his fingers as if he has a memorized list of activities in his head. “The possibilities are endless, really.”

“Anything we do with the director would be a good summer memory for me.” Masumi asserts, earning a sigh from his roommate.

Citron clasps his hands in excitement. “Ooh! I would love to partake in the activities of summer one does in a household of Japan!”

“Hm. Well, if we’re at home with a stable internet connection, it wouldn’t hurt to participate in an activity or two.” Itaru reluctantly agrees.

Izumi turns her attention to the oddly quiet Sakuya. “And what about you, Sakuya? Any summer memories you want to bring to the company?”

At this, Sakuya goes still. “Ah, I – “

“Oh, that’s right.” Tsuzuru chimes in. “Since you’ve spent summer with different family members, I’m sure you have lots of unique summer traditions for us to try out.”

The occupants of the table all turn their attention to Sakuya, which has him breaking out into a cold sweat. “Well actually – “

“Please! Let Citron know all about the different traditions of the Sakuma summer!”

“I actually don’t have any good summer memories I can share. Sorry to disappoint you.” Sakuya admits with a sheepish laugh.

Masumi raises a skeptical eyebrow at his usually cheery schoolmate’s admission. “Hm?”

“Well, it’s just that since I moved from house to house so often, I never really made much of a connection to my relatives. Honestly, summer vacation would just pass by as a blur.”

The table goes silent as they take in their leader’s words, pensive looks on their faces. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Sakuya forces a grin. “But it’s fine – really! I was just glad that they would take me in. And now I can make summer memories with the company! Ah… that is, if you aren’t too busy with your own plans. Perhaps I’m getting too far ahead of myself…” he trails off, standing up from the table. “I’ll be going first, then. Thank you for the food.”

And just like that, Sakuya is out of the room.

The troupe members left behind stare at Sakuya’s vacant chair for a few seconds before Izumi speaks up.

“I’ll talk to Sakyo to see if we have some funds to spare. I’ll leave it up to all of you to come up with the Spring Troupe’s plans for the rest of the summer.” She says, levelling a commanding stare leaving no room for argument at each of the members before walking off to find Sakyo.

“We can’t let the director down.” Masumi immediately says once Izumi is out of the room, levelling his own stare at Itaru.

“Eh? Why are you looking at me…?” Itaru’s eyes narrow at the younger boy.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Masumi scoffs. “You’re the only working adult out of all of us.”

“Itaru! Pay for my summer activities, too!” Citron cheers, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You can be my honey daddy!”

“Your what– “

“Okay, okay, that’s enough!” Tsuzuru intervenes, pointedly ignoring Citron’s turn of phrase. “Like I said before, we don’t need to shell out that much cash to make good summer memories.”

Their impromptu meeting is interrupted my several voices echoing from the hallway.

“Sounds like they’re coming in for the next batch of breakfast.” Tsuzuru sighs. “Itaru, do you think we could continue this in your room?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Eh? But– “

Suddenly, Itaru feels a chill down his spine. Turning around, he is met with the dark glower of Masumi. “Let us in your room. The director wouldn’t want us to ruin Sakuya’s summer.”

Not one to easily back down – especially not to a little brat – Itaru glowers back. Taking advantage of the distraction, Citron grabs Itaru’s phone and runs for his life towards Itaru’s room with Tsuzuru in tow. “Itaru, you must make with the haste if you want to catch me before your SP replenishes!”

Itaru stares at the now empty table in disbelief while Masumi silently trails after the two. The situation suddenly registers in Itaru’s mind, and he springs up from his seat. “Conniving little – give me back my phone!” he shouts, speed walking after his traitor troupe mates. By the time he reaches his room, the three of them are already sprawled about in various places in his room. Itaru sighs, accepting his fate.

“Mess anything up and you’re dead.”

The next day, Sakuya walks into the living room, ready to kick back and relax with a good TV program. However, he is once again met with a surprise as he walks in on the other members of Spring Troupe arguing as they arrange various stacks of paper throughout the living room. Upon closer inspection, Sakuya can see that the colorful paper strewn throughout the room are actually flyers.

“Um…” Sakuya warily approaches the group. “Did I miss the memo or something? Were we supposed to clean out the storage room today?”

At their leader’s arrival, the members halt their actions, not accounting for Sakuya’s sudden appearance as they fixed the materials for the day’s activity. Citron dutifully steps up as the unofficial moodmaker and bounds over to his roommate, slinging an arm around Sakuya’s shoulders.

“Sakuya! Sakyo said we could do what we would like with these flyers. Please, teach me how to make a boat and let us captain our ships against one another!”

Sakuya appears even more lost as Citron’s words. Mercifully, Itaru looks up from his mobile game long enough for him to convey Citron’s meaning.

“Sakyo bugged us about getting rid of these old flyers, and Citron decided he wanted to try the paper boat racing that Tsuzuru brought up yesterday.”

“Ah, I see…” Sakuya says, turning his attention back to Citron. “I’m sorry, but I actually don’t know how to fold a paper boat myself.”

Undeterred, Citron leads Sakuya over to the center of the several piles of paper and sits down, taking Sakuya down with him. “Tsuzuru will be teaching us! Now that we are all here, let us begin with the shipping!”

Tsuzuru sighs, shaking his head in resignation. “Alright, so after you choose your piece of paper you fold it like this…”

Several failed attempts and paper cuts later, the Spring Troupe went over to the park to race their paper boats by a stream. Tsuzuru, acting as referee, crouched by his makeshift finish line made of twigs while a determined Sakuya and Citron, and a less-than-thrilled Itaru and Masumi took their beginning places with their paper boats at the opposite end.

“Alright!” Tsuzuru shouts, raising a hand. “On your marks, get set… go!”

As the paper boats float down the stream, Tsuzuru watches his members with fond interest. Masumi, true to character, merely watches the ensuing chaos that is the antics of his members from the starting point. Sakuya excitedly follows his cherry blossom-print paper boat closely, eyes glowing with mirth. Citron has already ran over to the finish line, shouting encouragement at his own garish multicolored paper boat. Even Itaru has joined in on the fun, calmly keeping pace with his own boat but encouragingly saying things like, “We got this. Let’s go.”, which may or may not have to do with the fact that he decorated his paper boat with doodles of his best girls.

Finally, the paper boats near the end and it the winner honestly could be anyone, what with how close the boats are to one another. Just before any of the boats can cross the finish line, however, a shadow passes over the stream. The paper boats are suddenly gone, and the figure had already left with a rush of wind and the faint cry of “triangles!” in the distance.

As one, the Spring Troupe stares off into the distance where the figure disappeared, eyes wide in disbelief.

When they get back to the dorms, they find Misumi showing off his triangles of the day. His eyes shone brightly as he proudly showed off the “pretty triangle boats” he found, claiming they were some of the best finds he’s had in a while.

A few days after what is now dubbed as “the paper boat heist”, the Spring Troupe once again decided to try their luck at making new summer memories for Sakuya. The entire company was holding a barbeque, and Spring Troupe was in charge of desserts. This time it was Itaru who brought forward his own idea for a summer activity to introduce to their leader.

“Chili ice cream…?” Sakuya wonders aloud.

“Yep.” Itaru confirms. “My senpai recommended it to me and even gave me a recipe. The base for the ice cream can be used to make other flavors, though.”

“I wonder if I can make a curry flavored ice cream…” Izumi mumbles thoughtfully, much to Tsuzuru’s dismay.

“Please don’t.” he butts in, ignoring Izumi’s pout and Masumi’s glare. “Anyway, Omi already agreed to help us freeze the ice cream so most of our work is going to be making the ice cream flavors. Let’s try our best to make something he can actually make into ice cream.”

“Alright, alright.” Izumi acquiesces. “No experimental flavors. Now, have you all decided what to make?”

“I’m making vanilla.” Tsuzuru asserts, leaving no room for argument. “If all else fails, we’ll at least have a good base ice cream for the barbeque tonight.”

“I guess I’ll make the chili flavor that senpai recommended.” Itaru sighs.

Masumi immediately snatches the chocolate from the cupboards. “It’s not Valentine’s Day or White Day chocolate, but chocolate ice cream for the director will still convey my feelings for the director.”

“I would like to try the green matcha of Japan!” Citron cheers.

“I’d like to try making black sesame ice cream.” Sakuya says.

Izumi nods in satisfaction at the troupe’s quick answers. “Alright, that covers a good variety of flavors. I’ll be supervising along with Omi, so let’s do this properly!”

Despite a few mishaps, the ice cream is finished with time to spare before it’s time for the barbeque party to start.

“Sakuya, here! Try the chili ice cream! It’s not curry, but it certainly is spicy like curry!” Izumi beckons over the Spring Troupe leader over, holding a spoonful of the light pink ice cream. “Say aah~”

A bright blush appears on Sakuya’s face, and several members look on at the scene of their director feeding Sakuya ice cream with jealousy. A few feet away, Tsuzuru physically restrains Masumi from rushing over to the duo and ruining the moment.

“Director, feed me ice cream, too!” Masumi cries out petulantly. As if triggering a domino effect, several other members clamor for their director’s special attention as well.

Sakuya, oblivious to it all, happily eats the ice cream that Izumi feeds him. “It’s sweet, but still subtly spicy! Delicious!”

Later, after most of the food is gone, Taichi and Kazunari bring out some sprinklers.

“Only for an hour.” Sakyo warns. “We don’t want the water bill going too high.”

Several of the younger members of the troupe quickly shuck off their shirts and happily frolic amongst the water sprayed by the sprinklers.

“Hey, where’s the director?” Sakuya wonders aloud, catching the attention of some of the company members.

“Tachibana went to go change.” Sakyo says.

“The director in a swimsuit…” Masumi mumbles, a dazed look on his face.

Seeing the looks on some of the member’s faces, Sakyo’s mouth twists into a frown, giving each of them a sharp glare. “Get your heads out of the gutter. Disrespect our director and I’ll bash your heads in.”

The men go still at Sakyo’s threat, but quickly perk up once more when they hear Izumi calling out as she approaches.

“Everyone! I found some water guns in the storage room!” Izumi calls out cheerily.

The young men let out a collective sigh of disappointment at their director’s attire of a dark t-shirt and swim shorts.

Nevertheless, the company’s summer barbeque is a resounding success. For a while, things at the dorms quiet down and the remaining days of summer pass by all too quickly, eventually leading up to the last night of summer vacation. The Spring Troupe decides to keep it simple with a movie marathon night, taking advantage of the last day the students are allowed to sleep in before school starts once more.

Together, the troupe meticulously put up a huge pillow fort in the living room where they all settled in and made themselves comfortable. Izumi periodically checked in on them throughout the night and was amused to see that with every movie, the members all gradually became closer one another, gravitating towards Sakuya who was in the middle of the fort.

The last time Izumi checks in on them, all of the members are sound asleep. The sight of them cuddling so close to one another in their slumber brings a smile to her face, and her heart feels full at the close family that Sakuya had found. Sakuya was lying down in the middle of the pillow fort, his right half sprawled across Citron. Citron was clinging to Itaru’s left leg as Itaru slept propped up into a half-sitting position against the couch. On Sakuya’s left was Tsuzuru, who was using Sakuya’s torso as a pillow as Tsuzuru slept perpendicular to his leader. Directly behind his roommate, Masumi slept in a similar position to Itaru, except he drew his knees closer to himself and rested his head atop his folded arms.

Silently, Izumi tiptoes over to the pile of young men and snaps a photo of them on her phone. She goes over to turn off the TV and leaves the room once more, shutting the door with a soft click.

Sakuya wakes to the booming of (most likely Summer Troupe’s) fireworks. He tries to get up, but fails due to the weight he feels on his body. Craning his head, Sakuya sees that he and his troupe members have formed into a mess of entangled limbs. Channeling his inner courage to bring out his Spring Troupe leader persona, Sakuya takes a deep breath before yelling, “Everyone, wake up! Let’s see the fireworks together.”

A chorus of whines and groans fills the living room, no one really wanting to get up, but at their leader’s insistence members disentangle themselves from one another, not deigning to acknowledge their previous positions they maintained as they slept. Sakuya directs them over to the balcony, and as the rest of the Spring Troupe leans over the railing to look up at the fireworks, Sakuya can feel his heart swell with affection for his troupe members.

Noticing that Sakuya was hanging back by the door, Tsuzuru calls out to him. “Sakuya, get over here and watch the fireworks with us. This’ll be our last memory of the summer together.”

Sakuya can feel tears well up in his eyes as Tsuzuru, Citron, Masumi, and Itaru turn back to him, affectionate grins on their faces. Impulsively, he runs over to them and launches himself at them, pulling them all into a group hug.

“Thank you so much!” Sakuya wails, finally letting his tears stream down his face. “I’m so grateful to everyone. You’ve made this my best summer vacation yet.”

The group huddles closer to one another, either ruffling Sakuya’s hair in affection or patting him on the back. Unbeknownst to them, Izumi watches them from a slightly ajar door.

“Happy summer, Sakuya.” she whispers, watching the smiles of the Spring Troupe.

“Welcome home.”

[wildedoves]

A Star Wars Story

It’s a new fic I actually had the guts to work on. Have some Anidala with a touch of angst, adventure, action, and of course the occasional comedy. Warning: it’s slow paced. 

Murphy’s Law with a Hint of Luck

Part I : Discovered

Padmé Amidala laid motionless on the pristine white bed, eyes closed and deathly pale in the center of the medical room. The monitors in the room indicated normal vital signs but Anakin, ever particular about Padmé’s well-being, noted her breathing was rather slow. Too slow, for his liking. He watched closely to the rise and fall of her chest, making sure she was still actually breathing despite the oxygenation levels indicating 99% on room air. 

“Padmé…” he trailed. His rising anger and mal-intentions increased as he swiftly made his way beside her. Whoever was bold enough to even lay a single finger on her will have him to deal with later. Oh no, he wasn’t just going to stand idly and do nothing. Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, was not one to take kindly when angered. Those that knew this, stopped arguing with him after realizing they were speaking to a stone wall. Others, well, last they saw was the blue lightsaber whirring to life. 

Someone was going to pay for this. 

As if sensing his rising hostility, Padmé stirred. He watched her eyebrows wrinkle in discomfort as she slowly opened her eyes, observing her surroundings with perplexion. Her warm eyes then gazed into his. Anakin reached for her frail hand, intense worry overcoming his prior mounting wrath— or rather momentarily halting his ire. 

“It’s okay Padmé. You’re okay.” He assured her, placing a small tender kiss to her forehead. 

“Anakin…” She breathed, “Where...where am I?”

“On the Vigilance. Obi-Wan and I were on our way back to Coruscant when we got a distress call from Ryloth.”

Padmé tightened her grip in his hand. Mentioning the planet seemed to remind her, a tear aiding itself to the corner of her eye and sliding towards her ear. Through the Force, he felt her pain, her sorrow, and her anger. 

When they had arrived on the planet, and to the apparently bombed village, Anakin noticed a droid fleeing on a speeder bike about 10 klicks away. Immediately upon landing, he hopped onto a speeder bike in hot pursuit, ignoring Obi-Wan’s instructions to stay instead. Capturing that droid took precedence since apprehending  the droid meant obtaining answers which can then lead to whoever was behind this attack. Besides, Obi-Wan and Rex had it controlled back there. What could possibly stop him from this chase? At that exact moment, his comlink lit green with Rex’s voice patching through. 

“Sir, you won’t believe this but it looks like we found Senator Amidala and she’s—well—you should come back here. General Kenobi has her now and is requesting your return.” 

At that moment, his heart had dropped into the pit of his stomach. Kriff! What was she even doing on this planet? Hadn’t she said a few nights ago she would be providing relief to a distant...planet—and the horrifying realization had dawned upon him. Of course it would be Ryloth. Since its securement from the Separatists for the last couple of years, the Republic had been sending aid to restore the planet’s several damaged villages with the help of his wife and at times, Senator Orn Free Taa, who was practically useless in his opinion. (Anakin had actually said that once and if it wasn’t for Obi-Wan’s careful maneuvering of the conversation, he would have lost some of his privileges of the Senate Building, i.e., entrance to the building for public—and secret— meetings with his wife). He turned his speeder bike and revved the vehicle full speed. 

His master had found Padmé alive under a pile of concrete rubble, including a Twi’lek family and a couple of clone troopers that were not so fortunate. From his description, and his master’s never failing reassurance, Padmé was gravely injured however, stable in the medical bay. 

The medical droid attending her prior to his entrance in the room informed Anakin she has internal damage but with time and adherence to the droid’s medical advice, she would regain her health.

“Ani...there were children here and—and then the bombs…” she closed her eyes, tears spilling at the corners. Anakin gently wiped them away with his thumb, listening closely to her whispering hoarse voice. “This war doesn’t spare adults let alone children...I watched those girls die in front of me Ani...they were only eight.”

“I’m so sorry Padmé,” Anakin began, “War is ugly and there will always be innocent people caught in the crossfire. I don’t know who’s responsible for what happened here yet but when I find them, I’ll personally make sure they’ll regret it.” His jaw clenched. The situation became personal when Padmé became involved. 

“Please don’t,” she pleaded. 

“You saw what they did. You’re my family, Padmé, and I’m not letting them get away with this.”

“And you’re my family and I won’t let you.”

“You won’t? Or can’t?”

“Both.”

Anakin snorted while Padmé watched him carefully. “This is serious Anakin.”

“Look, I love you but I’m not going to just stand by and do nothing. You know me.”

“You can do something by helping the people here instead.”

“Not good enough. I’m going after that droid and finding out their reasoning behind this assault. You can’t change my mind.” 

She closed her eyes and breathed a heavy sigh before looking up at him again. Exhausted, weary, and defeated Padmé painfully consented. “I can’t change your mind can I?” 

It was pure fact really. “Well yeah. Not only did they attack this village but they also attacked you. You’re my wife and a senator Padmé. The chancellor won’t be happy about this. I’m not happy about this.” 

She looked away and a momentary silence followed. It was obvious she was not fond of his plan and he didn’t blame her. His plans strangely seemed to go awry at times and Obi-Wan was (unfortunately) witness to this countless times. Padmé was still quiet. He glanced over at the monitors on the other side of her which were still rhythmically beeping without distress. 

Anakin returned his gaze to her and she shook her head. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

He graced her with his very well known Skywalker smirk. “I’ll take my chances.” 

“Ani, just promise me you’ll come back. I always worry about you when you’re away.” 

“Cmon Padmé, have a little faith in me. You know I’ll always come back to you.” He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “We’ll be heading back to Coruscant soon but until then I’ll be your personal guard. Once there, I’ll make sure you’re in good hands. How’s that?”

A small smile curved her lips. “I would like that.”

“Great, and besides, I think Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind.”

She chuckled and winced immediately. “I don’t know about that. He still doesn’t know about, you know, us.”

“I got this. You leave it to me and everything will be fine.” Of course, things usually don’t go according to plan and the worst typically tends to happen whenever he’s around but for her sake, she had to return safely to Coruscant. He absolutely will not risk losing her. If anything else were to happen— Anakin stopped himself right there and refused to imagine such a scenario. 

“Anakin,” Padmé murmured and broke through his thoughts. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

----------------- 

Anakin remained beside his wife until she fell asleep comfortably, still holding onto his hand for reassurance. His presence alone brought her comfort, a sense of security and for this reason Anakin had made it a habit to be there beside her whenever she needed him (if, of course, he wasn’t on a mission some parsecs away). The medical droid had entered twice, checked her vitals, scanned for possible worsening wounds, and administered medications. When it was done and had left the room once more, Anakin leaned forward and kissed her cheek before stepping out of the room himself. She’s safe in there, he mused. 

Then why did the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up?

He surveyed the corridor and observed every single passerby's actions including the medical droids robotic speech patterns. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Probably nothing. He was in Obi-Wan’s flagship which also happens to be one of the safest locations at this current moment. He shook the sensation off and headed towards the hangar where he felt his master’s presence the strongest. Probably still bringing down aid to the village before leaving the planet. 

Pressing the button of his com link, he paged his master. “Obi-Wan, you there?”

“About time Anakin.” Pause. “Don’t tell me you’ve been with the Senator this whole time?”

He rolled his eyes. Well duh. “I promised her I’d be her personal guard on our way back.”

“We have other skilled people for that you know.”

Beside the point. His soldiers are great but nothing beats a Jedi husband. “I know but a promise is a promise and I don’t plan on breaking it.”

If Anakin paid more attention, he could literally feel his master shaking his head in disagreement but knowing Obi-Wan, he wasn’t about to protest considering Padmé’s condition. Of course, Anakin was right.

“Very well.” Anakin hears Obi-Wan sigh in defeat. “If I may ask, how is she?”

“She’s holding up but she needs higher medical care back in Coruscant. How long before we head out?” 

“We’ll be leaving shortly. For now, meet me at the hangar. There’s something here I want to show you.”

“On my way.” 

“Oh, and Anakin.”

“Yeah?”

“Do pick up the pace. We’ve been waiting quite a while for you to appear.” 

Anakin chuckled and the com’s green light faded. 

[that-winged-rat]

Identity

Identity ~ Part 1

*not my gif*

Summary: Who knew that saving the life of a child, would lead to the death of dozens of people?

No Pairing.

Characters: OC Danielle Saunders, OC Michelle, OC David, a few minor OCs (these are just the characters for this part)

Warnings: Language, slight angst, mentions/descriptions of violence, mentions of  kidnapping,

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: New series! So I’ve had this idea for a series written down for God knows how long and I decided to actually do it and not put it off anymore. Also, this is the first thing I’ve written which isn’t a reader insert so apologies if it’s a bit meh. So... enjoy! :)

June 5th 1993 ~ Rochester, NY

“Okay, don’t get me wrong, I love you and all... but, Michelle, you can’t read maps for shit,” the man joked while he drove down the quiet road in the dark, his girlfriend sitting in the passenger seat, map resting on her lap.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, playfully hitting his arm. “Well, I am 90% sure that the town is coming up soon,” she said when she turned her attention back to the map.

“So... that means we’re nowhere near the town,” he said, earning a glare from Michelle.

“Hey, David?” She asked and he hummed in response. “Shut up.” He laughed. After a few more miles and a few more jokes from David, the couple still hadn’t come across the town they were seeking.

As they were driving, the headlights caught the outline of a shape, a lump on the side of the road, too large to be a rabbit and too small to be a deer.

“Hey, what is that?” Michelle asked, as she too caught sight of the silhouette.

David averted his eyes for a second. “Probably one of Jason Voorhees’ many victims,” he chuckled.

“No, seriously.”

“Alright, it’s probably roadkill.”

As they drove closer, the shape became clearer, and revealed itself as a person, unconscious on the side of the road. “Holy shit. David, stop the car,” Michelle mumbled.

“What?”

“Stop the car! It’s a fucking person,” she said louder than before.

David chanced a quick look back to the shape to find that his girlfriend was right. “Oh, shit,” he said as he slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt just beyond the body.

The two jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped, rushing to the body, only to find it wasn’t an adult. It was a child. They would’ve said that she was no older than ten at least, but the bruises and dried blood that littered her body made it near impossible to identify her age.

Her long, dark brown and matted hair draped over her shoulders, covered with a vintage gown, stained in red. They looked down to see that her feet were bloody and cut up; she must have been running.

“David, that’s–oh my God, David, that’s a fucking child!” Michelle exclaimed as she started to hyperventilate, for understandable reasons.

“Whoa, okay, just calm down. Take a deep breath,” he said, sucking in the cool night air through his nose and letting it out through his lips, getting Michelle to do the same. “Better?” She nodded, swallowing. “Good. Okay, I’m gonna check her pulse, and then we’re gonna take her to the hospital, alright?”

She nodded again before going to the trunk to fish out a blanket for the mystery girl. Luckily, she found one and brought it back to the girl, wrapping it around her delicately.

“She’s got a pulse, but it’s faint. We need to get her to the hospital. Now,” David concluded. They both decided that it would be better if David was in charge of the map instead of Michelle. They cautiously placed the girl in the backseat of their car, and drove to the nearest hospital.

About fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to the A&E entrance. David picked up the girl while Michelle ran in to give the nurses a summary on what happened. David came not long after, carrying her limp figure into the reception and placed her on a gurney that had already been prepared. The couple anxiously watched as she was whisked away.

“Are you the couple who brought the Jane Doe in?” A doctor asked the two after an hour or so.

They glanced at each other quickly before standing up, holding each others hands. “Yes–yes that’s us,” Michelle replied.

“Well, the good news is she’s stable,” she started, David and Michelle letting a breath of relief escape both of their lips. “She has suffered quite some damage; a few broken bones, some nasty cuts and bruises, blood loss and some internal bleeding. But in time, she’ll be okay.”

David nodded. “What’s the bad news?” He asked. “You said that’s the good news, so what’s the bad?”

“There is no record of her. No birth certificate. No record of any family. Nothing. As far as the world is concerned... this girl doesn’t even exist.”

“So, what does that mean for her? What happens next?” Michelle questioned, furrowing her brows.

“Well, we’ll wait for her to wake up and see if she knows who and where her parents are. If not then she’ll be put in the system, see if anyone’s looking for a foster,” she said.

“Thanks, doc,” David said, the doctor nodded and left. “You hear that? Kids got no parents.”

“Yeah, poor girl.” Michelle looked down at the ground and shook her head slightly.

“Well, what if... y’know, what if we take her in?” David offered, shrugging his shoulders.

She looked into his eyes briefly, before looking away. “David... It’s–it’s not that I don’t want kids, it’s just... look, I just don’t think I’m ready for kids yet.” David nodded and Michelle took his hands in hers. “And besides, we’re not even twenty-five yet, we’ve got plenty of time, right?”

“Right.” He smiled and lifted her hand to his mouth, giving it a quick kiss.

“Do you think we should stay?” Michelle offered. “Y’know, make sure she’s alright?”

“Yeah, I think that’s the right thing to do.”

With that, the couple sat back down and waited in the hospital seats, engaging in conversation. They were there for about a half hour when a hoard of doctors and nurses filed into the girl’s room. The couple looked at each other briefly before standing from their seats.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is she okay?” David asked one of the doctors who emerged from the room.

“She’s awake. Disoriented and confused, but she’s okay,” the doctor said, smiling at the two. “Are you two the girl’s family?”

“Uh, no. We’re the people who brought her in. We just wanted to make sure she was okay,” Michelle informed and the doctor nodded.

“Well, good thing you found her when you did. I don’t think she would’ve lasted much longer.” The doctor gave a thankful smile to the couple before he walked away.

Neither of them know why but they still stayed. In a way, they felt as though they had some obligation to stay, like she was their responsibility. They were the ones who found her after all.

“Excuse me.” They looked to see a police officer with a notepad standing patiently in front of them. “Hi, I’m Officer Jeffords. Are you the couple who found the girl?”

“Yeah, that’s us,” David replied.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Ask away, officer,” Michelle smiled. He took a seat next to them and flipped open his notebook.

---

“Hi there. I’m Officer Owen Kent. I’m going to ask you a few questions about what happened. Is that okay?” He asked, taking a seat in the chair next to the hospital bed. The girl didn’t say anything, but nodded in confirmation.

“Okay. Can you tell me your name, sweetie?” Once again, she said nothing, but this time she shook her head. She furrowed her brows and stared at her hands, which were folded in her lap. “Do you not remember?” He asked gently and she shook her head again.

“That’s okay. The doctors said you might be suffering from some amnesia,” he said and the girl looked at him, confused. “Right, uh, amnesia is just a fancy pancy word for memory loss. People normally get it when they hit their head real hard.”

She nodded again. “Do the memories ever come back?” She asked.

“Sometimes, yeah. It just depends on how hard you hit your head,” he said, tilting his head to the side to look at her. “What’s the last thing you remember, sweetie?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Waking up in here?” Owen frowned and nodded slowly.

“So you don’t remember where you were before? Or anything about your parents?” She shook her head again. “Okay. That’s fine,” he said, noticing how her eyes were drooping shut. “Alright, I’m gonna let you get some rest. I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

He left the room and joined up with his colleague who was talking to Michelle and David.

“Hey. Does the girl remember anything?” Jeffords asked.

“No. Kid doesn’t even remember her name,” Owen said and looked down to the ground.

“Damn. What about what happened, or any family of hers?”

“Nada. But whatever happened must have been real bad; she said that the last thing she remembered was waking up here.”

Jeffords shook his head slightly. “Well, the couple who brought her in told me where they found her. There’s an old cabin not too far from there.”

“First lead. We gonna check it out?”

“You read my mind.” Jeffords smirked before walking away, Owen following not long after.

“Do you think we should go and see her?” Michelle asked once the officers had left.

“Do you want to?” David retorted.

“I don’t know...” She said.

“We can go if you want to. I mean, we stayed to make sure she’s okay and we know she’s okay.”

She nodded her head. “Yeah, okay. We still gotta find that hotel.”

“Yeah, but this time? I’m taking the map,” he said, laughing. Michelle hit his arm playfully, chuckling a bit herself.

---

The Next Day

“Good morning,” the nurse said cheerily as she stepped into the room. “And how we feeling today?”

“Good. Better,” the girl said quietly, smiling at the nurse. She still had evidence of struggle, but the cuts were healing and the bruises had started to turn a dark purple, a sign of healing.

“Do you remember anything yet?” She asked as she checked the monitors and her vitals. She shook her head and received a reassuring smile. “Not even your name?”

“No,” the girl said sadly, looking down to her lap.

“How about we find you one?” the nurse suggested optimistically. The girl snapped her head up to look at the smiling woman.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” She smiled, as did the child. “Yeah, we can look on a website with a list of names,” she said. “I just gotta go and do something, but I’ll be back in a jiffy and then we can have a look, okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Thank you.” The nurse smiled and left the room, coming back not long after, just as she promised.

They looked for about twenty minutes before the girl found a name that tickled her fancy. “That one,” she stated, pointing at the screen of the laptop.

“Danielle,” the nurse said, as if getting used to the name. “It suits you.” She nodded, smiling as the girl did – as Danielle did.

---

“Oh, bed sweet bed.” David sighed as he flopped on the hotel bed. “I am exhausted,” he said, letting his eyes fall shut.

“I know the feeling,” Michelle replied, falling next to her boyfriend. They dropped their bags on the couch when they came in, not bothering to unpack or change out of their clothes.

They were just about to drift into a slumber when a knock sounded at the door, startling both of them. David sighed and got up when Michelle made no move to do so herself.

He opened the door to find a tall, skinny man with scraggy black hair and short stubble, decorating his face. “Can I help you?”

“Where is she? The girl,” he asked, clearly meaning business. His voice was deep and southern, not suiting his scrawny appearance.

“Uh, wha–” David started but stopped himself when he saw the mystery man pull a blade from his jacket. David held his hands up in surrender and backed further into the room as the man stepped forward. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay. There’s no need for that, buddy.”

“You’re right, there is no need for this,” he said, flipping the knife in his hand, a smirk tugging at his thin lips. “I could kill you both without breaking a sweat. But where’s the fun in that, eh?”

“Okay, just... let Michelle go. She doesn’t need to be a part of this. I can give you what you want, just please... let her go,” David pleaded. Michelle crept into the room just then, and her eyes widened at the situation as David held his arm out, stopping her from going any further.

He chuckled and put his knife in his pocket, David and Michelle sighing in relief. “What, and let her go running to the authorities while I miss out on the fun of two people? Now why would I want to do that? And even if you could give me what I want... I don’t think you will.”

They both took a step back as his eyes turned a purple of sorts; kind of like a galaxy. His whites, his pupils, there wasn’t a part of his eyes that wasn’t that entrancing colour.

They would’ve taken another step back if they didn’t freeze when his arms were engulfed in a flame. Before either of them could process anything, it was them who were engulfed in heat, screaming until they could no more.

The man smirked as he walked out of the room, leaving the two corpses – or what was left of them – behind. He continued down the long hallway, stepping over the burnt bodies that littered them as he did.

There were four more corpses in the lobby. A small hotel full of death on his hands. But he didn’t care, he had more pressing matters at hand. He casually walked out of the building.

He closed his eyes and looked up to the sky, letting the cool night breeze wash over his face. “I will find you,” he said. “No matter how long it takes... I will find you.”

[takingcourage]

Additions: Part 5

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 3,600

Summary: The adoption is finalized and everything seems to be settling into place, but what surprises wait in the new year?

February, 2028

The studio feels quiet.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, Arden knew today wasn’t any different from the usual. 

There was the ordinary hubbub as their team of writers chatted through overnight developments and new stories that had broken since their broadcast the day before. In the distance, Ellen was delivering a stern warning to one of the interns -- probably another reminder not to turn in work without proofreading. Errors had been running rampant over the past two weeks.

Arden sat up just a bit straighter in her chair as the coffeemaker beeped from the next room over. Her on-air coffee never tasted anywhere near as good as the first cup of the day, but she craved it all the same.  

Feeling Maggie’s brush strokes slow, she questioned when it was that the bustling studio had started to feel so calm. Probably around June of last year, she considered, allowing herself to relax back into the seat.

After the unpredictability of their household, work had become comparatively tame. At home, there were always footsteps rushing up and down the staircase or the strains of Sophia’s flute drifting through the house at odd intervals. Then there were Will’s uninhibited concerts in the shower, Opie’s claws tapping across the hardwood floors as he tried to keep up with all of the action, the quiet, unsteady rhythm of Alex sketching pictures on every scrap of paper he could find...

It was a special brand of mayhem that only families with three children could understand: families like theirs.

“Good day yesterday?”

Arden opened both eyes to see Maggie’s knowing smile. Noting the tiny brush in the other woman’s hand, she pressed them shut just as quickly. “It was wonderful. When you’re done, I’ll show you some pictures.”

Maggie started on her eyeliner. “I’d love to see them! That Will is such a cutie. I think we really hit it off when you brought him into the studio last week...You all must be so excited.”

“We are,” she confirmed, holding off her instinctive smile so the muscles of her face could remain as stable as possible.

When her makeup was finished, Arden swiped through the images on her phone before settling on the one lucky shot where no one had blinked or forgotten to smile. She and Jaime stood on the steps of the courthouse, Sophia and Alex leaning in from either side. Will was situated between them on the step below, back almost arched in his attempt to stand tall.

Even a day later, Arden had to check her emotions to keep Maggie’s work intact. It was incredible that she still had any tears left to cry after the waterworks that had taken place at the hearing, but she still felt the unmistakable prickle in the corners of both eyes. 

“It’s the first official Lewis Family photo!”

Maggie was right. Anyone who looked at the picture would know immediately that they were a family, even with the obvious differences in appearance. Their smiles, the way that Jaime’s arm was wrapped around Alex’s waist, the confidence in Sophia’s bearing -- all spoke of the connections that had been formed over the course of the past eight months.  

It was one of the most beautiful photos she’d ever seen. 

Still, if she’d gone a single picture to the left, the other woman would have seen another image -- one that was equally precious in Arden’s mind.

Sometime between putting on their pajamas and brushing teeth the night before, a folded page from Alex’s sketch pad had appeared under the door to the bedroom she and Jaime shared.

The outside of the paper read simply:

To: Jaime and Arden

From: Alex

Curious, they’d unfolded the thick paper, eyes welling again at the inner contents. There had been so few times in her adult life that Arden had truly been surprised, but this discovery caught both of them off guard. 

Beneath the short inscription, Thanks for taking care of us, they found a carefully arranged portrait. 

People weren’t Alex’s specialty -- he’d had much more experience with drawing dragons and other supernatural beings than he had with human features. Still, it had been obvious to both of them that the five figures he’d committed to paper represented the five members of their family.

Practiced or not, it had been enough to start another round of crying. Their son’s sketch was more than just a picture of a family -- it was their family. And it was starting to feel like something close to perfect.

Fate, of course, had other plans.

_____

June, 2028

The first sign Arden noticed was an acute tenderness in her breasts. It’s nothing, she reasoned, just a sign that my period is on its way.

When a full week passed and her cycle still hadn’t arrived, she began to be concerned. Looking back, she couldn’t say with certainty that it had come the month before either. May had been busy – going to Sophia’s band concert and Alex’s fifth-grade graduation, starting Will in a summer soccer league, covering all of school-related news items that always cropped up at that time of the year...

Until now, a forgotten period had hardly merited a second thought.

She nibbled the side of her thumb and stared at the plastic stick resting on the edge of the bathroom counter. Unsure as she was about the reliability of pregnancy tests, every instinct she had told her that the little plus sign staring back at her was accurate.

It wasn’t that she and Jaime had never thought about having a baby. They’d talked about it plenty during their first years of marriage. But they hadn’t talked about it lately. Since they’d started the adoption process, the whole subject had sort of fallen off their radar. 

Arden lowered her hand and pinched the test between her fingers. Holding it to the light, she fought another swell of trepidation when the intersecting lines remained unchanged. 

After the intentional, very deliberate way that the other three had come into their lives, an accidental pregnancy was blindsiding. And with a soon-to-be eighth grader, sixth grader, and fourth grader, it was just about the last thing she’d expected. 

A fourth child certainly hadn’t factored into the renovations they’d completed on the house little more than a year before. Or her career plans. Or the trip they’d just booked for Disney World over next year’s Spring Break.

With a mounting sense of panic, Arden wondered if a baby could really fit into their lives at all. They were a family of five.

A cold sweat broke over her forehead as she set the stick back down on the bathroom sink. Catching sight of her disheveled appearance in the mirror, she  raised a shaky hand to scrape the dampening hair from her brow.

She left the room, walking halls her feet had memorized years before. As she walked, she counted every room and every door -- desperate for some forgotten space that could be repurposed as a nursery. There was none, of course. 

Building projects took forever. Furnishing a nursery, sorting out things like maternity leave and childcare, getting used to the idea of starting over from scratch with a new baby -- each required the luxury of time. 

A luxury they didn’t really have. 

Her pulse spiked at the thought of the baby’s imminent arrival. She didn’t even know how long she’d been pregnant, but they had seven months, at most, before their world was turned upside down.

Half of her was determined to march into her office and begin shopping for baby furniture. Thankfully, the other side of her was more reasonable. 

I’ve got to tell Jaime. 

Last she’d known, her husband was collecting materials in the garage, hard at work on the summer project he and Alex had started the week before. In a true feat of creative genius, Jaime had turned the boy’s rough sketch into plans for an actual treehouse in their backyard. They’d been working on it almost every morning since. 

As Arden passed through the lower level of the house, she heard Opie pawing at the front door. Finding the garage empty, she made her way across the yard to her husband’s workshop. The whining tablesaw confirmed their presence long before the cloud of dust that assaulted her as she stepped inside. 

Neither occupant looked up at her entry, but that didn’t come as much surprise. The saw drowned out all other sound. Giving them several feet of clearance, she stood on the blank floor before them.

Jaime’s gaze flickered and he motioned for Alex to pause before handing him the next board. He finished with the piece of wood that was already on the saw, laying it aside as he allowed the noise to fade to a dull hum.

“Alex,” Arden began, speaking a few decibels louder than usual. The saw whirred to a halt. “Would you please take the dog out for me? I need to talk with your dad for a minute.”

She didn’t need her powers to know that he was counting to five and considering the consequences of refusal.

“Yeah.”

Arden wasn’t crazy about the edge in her son’s tone, but at least he hadn’t pushed the issue.

“Is everything okay?” Jaime stepped back from the machine, flipping up his safety glasses to reveal a furrowed brow. 

Arden nodded, bringing the pad of her thumb to her lips and biting down on the skin slowly. She couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, afraid that the fear in her own would transfer.

This isn’t like you, Arden. Tell me what’s wrong.

She looked up from the concrete floor with resolve, but still couldn’t bring herself to go any higher than his chest. “I'm freaking out and I needed to come talk to you before it got any worse.”

“Babe,” he interrupted. He took her by the shoulders, uncertainty swiftly turning to concern as he saw the tears in her eyes. “What’s going on?”

Finally meeting his gaze, she shared the worry that was foremost in her mind. “We’re gonna have to add onto the house again.”

Jaime stared at her, aghast. For a moment, he struggled with the strange expression, fumbling for meaning beneath her vagaries. Finally, he landed on the only necessary change he could imagine. “Did something happen with the boys? I thought they wanted to keep sharing a room...”

“Not for the boys,” she corrected, breath stuttering as she worked up the courage for her next words. “I think I’m pregnant.”

Deep brown eyes grew wide before dropping to her stomach. “Are you serious?” His hands clenched her shoulders a little too tightly, but she was grateful for the reality of his firm grasp. Her mind still swimming with fears and questions, it was a relief to have something stable to hold onto. 

"Uh-huh,” she confirmed with a sullen nod.

“You’re pregnant?”

Another nod. “The test says so, and I was pretty sure even before I took it -- but still. I don’t know what happened -- a mix-up with my birth control or something? I mean, it was an accident. We haven’t talked about babies or-”

Before she could finish the statement, Jaime’s lips were pressed to her forehead, his hands gently cradling her face. Tears flooded Arden’s eyes again at the tender promises in his touch, and her whole body was light with reassurance. Secrets between them had always been a burden.

“Arden,” he started slowly, swallowing against the onslaught of his own emotions. “If it’s an accident, then it’s the happiest accident of my life.”

“You’re sure?” Even in her momentary peace, it was impossible not to think of how much this accident – happy or not – was going to change everything.

He pulled back to see her, but still supported her face with both hands. “I’m positive. Try me. My mind’s an open book.” His eyes were still poring over her with the most intense look of adoration she’d ever known. But as he continued watching, that love turned to concern. “You’re not happy?”

“I’m too shocked right now to feel anything else. The past couple of years, I really hadn’t even thought about the possibility. I sure didn’t expect for it to happen without us planning for it first.”

“But it did.”

“Yeah,” she told him weakly, voice wavering as he combed the sweaty hair from her eyes. 

“Sweetheart, just because we haven’t talked about this baby doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. Sure, life’s going to be a little more complicated, but how could I not want to have a baby with you?”

Catching her lower lip with her teeth to keep from crying, Arden ventured  to ask, “We’ll make it work?”

His certainty told her that the question didn’t even bear asking. “You know we will. It’ll be just like it was with the other three – we won’t know how we ever lived without this one.”

She laughed in spite of the tears that still ran down both cheeks. “You’re probably right.”

Jaime gathered her into his arms again, long fingers weaving into her hair. “I know I am. I don’t even care if it means adding onto the house again.” 

“I love you,” she mumbled into his shoulder, holding tightly to the man who seemed to anchor her in any storm. 

“I love you too.” 

Several seconds later, she pushed away with a thought. “I should probably go. Alex will be back any minute and I don’t want them finding out like this.” 

“Good thinking.” Jaime pulled her back for a quick kiss. “But one more thing before you leave.”

She paused, looking to him expectantly. 

“I know I’ve always said it didn’t matter how we got our kids -- I’d love them whether they were ours from the start or not. That’s still true, but Arden? Having a baby with you is going to be pretty damn amazing.”

“It is,” she answered, finally holding back the tears as she attempted a smile. With a nod, she left him alone in the workshop, her hand resting against her stomach as she made her way back to the house. You’ll fit, little one. I promise. I don’t know how, but we’re going to make this work.

_____

Father’s Day, 2028

Melinda Gale had always loved babies. For as long as Arden could remember, her mother would coo at them in grocery store aisles, offer to hold them for family friends or relatives, and spend ages staring at them every time they attended a baby shower.

Arden had never had any such compulsions.

She enjoyed them, sure. They were cute and sweet, and she understood the desire to care for them. Holding them was fun, on occasion, though she’d always found it easy to look away when they were in the room.

But on this afternoon, keeping her eyes from straying to the small face in the infant carrier was impossible. They’d encountered the couple with the baby twice during their hike -- once at the bottom of the trail where they’d stopped for lunch, and now crossing paths again as they rambled upward through the hills. Both times, the pull had been magnetic, uncovering a desire that she hadn’t known existed. 

With a quick check of her husband’s face, she knew that he was met with equal difficulty. Though he was several steps ahead, he tossed a wink over his shoulder once the small family was out of sight. 

I can’t believe we get to have one of those.

Arden glowed at the excitement in Jaime’s thought. He’d been taking everything in stride, his positivity keeping her spirits up even on the days when all she could think of were the ways that having a baby was going to interfere with their plans. Despite her worries, his happiness was contagious.

For now, the new baby was still a secret between the two of them. They’d been hoping to wait for just a little bit longer -- at least until Family Day had passed. They’d agreed without much deliberation that it was best for this news not to overshadow the anniversary of the kids’ arrival.

Earlier in the week, they’d walked out of her first ultrasound appointment with a grainy picture and a projected due date for the middle of January. The car ride home had alternated between thoughtful silences and fits of giggles -- each of them still trying to wrap their minds around the fact that they would soon be a family of six. 

Smile growing as she matched Alex’s pace, Arden remembered the conversation that had followed. 

While Jaime put their lunch leftovers in the fridge, she gathered up the load of clean clothes that had finished in the dryer several hours before. She’d barely started folding before she sensed his familiar presence behind her. 

“You can’t feel anything yet,” Arden reminded as his hand settled low on her belly. 

“Neither can you, but that hasn’t stopped you from touching your stomach every time you think no one’s looking.” 

“Touché,” she relented, shying away from the tickle of his lips at her throat. “Although I’m fairly certain that I’ll be the first one to feel something. And I’ll let you in on it as soon as it happens.” 

“Still, if there’s any chance she can feel it, then...”

“Jaime...” Arden turned toward him, brushing her thumb over the stubble on his cheek. Though his lips were still curved into a smile, his eyes had turned serious. 

“This baby is never ever going wonder whether she’s loved.”

“No, she’s not,” she agreed as she tucked a wisp of hair behind his ear. “There’s absolutely no danger of that happening. But we don’t know that it’s a she. We could be having a boy...”

Arden turned back to the laundry, snagging a pair of boxers for emphasis. He grinned fully and joined her in folding. 

“I can’t help it. I keep imagining it’s a mini-you inside of there. A tiny little girl with your hair and your nose. Your narrow little feet...”  

“It doesn’t always work that way.”

“It did with you and your mom.”

They shared a look, hesitant to delve any deeper into that line of thought. The day had been too full of joy for them to sully it with reminders of sorrow.

“Even if it is a girl,” she continued, “I hope she gets your eyebrows and your smile -- probably your height too.”

Jaime grew silent, slowing in his efforts to shake one of Will’s socks the right side out. Both of his eyes narrowed to slits.

“It’s not selfish,” she assured in answer to his unspoken thought. “You’re not selfish to want someone else in the world who shares your DNA. It’s an instinct you share with most of humanity.”

“Yeah, but it’s been years since any of that mattered. I don’t know why I care again all of a sudden.”

Her own motions ceased. “Because we’re talking about an actual baby now. It’s not a hypothetical,” she suggested, trying to keep her tone light. “And it’s a baby who's going to have things in common with you.”

“I hope she only gets the good parts.”

“All of your parts are good, Jaime. Honestly, I almost wonder if this baby is some divine way of showing that the world needs more of you.”

With a snicker, he shook his head at her assessment. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You've known that for a while now.”

“I married you anyway.”

She raised her lips for the kiss that always followed such conversations, and they quickly found themselves getting carried away with something other than the laundry on the couch.

“Mom! There’s a rock in my shoe!”

The announcement startled Arden from her reminiscing, the flush of heat at the base of her neck the only sign of her wandering mind. 

Will was several yards ahead, continuing to limp along despite his obvious discomfort. Grateful that the brim of her hat cast a shadow over her rolling eyes, Arden lengthened her stride and caught up to her youngest son. “Let’s find a seat, buddy.”

“I can get it myself,” he insisted, still pressing forward.

“Then why’d you call for me?”

He shrugged, plopping onto a rock and yanking off one tennis shoe. Will offered no further explanation as she continued watching, too distracted with his inspection of the small piece of gravel that came from shoe’s heel.

Arden glanced up to see that the other three had stopped to wait for them. Alex had wandered a few steps ahead and was walking across a fallen log with his arms outstretched for balance. Jaime and Sophia were still talking animatedly about something, but Arden had lost the thread of their conversation long ago. As she watched, her husband nodded as if to encourage them to take their time. 

“Can I double knot it?” Will’s fingers were already poised to loop the laces a second time.

“As long as you do it loosely.” 

Will let out a disgruntled sigh before pulling the ties into a second knot. Finished, he hopped up and ran ahead with a sudden burst of energy. Arden hung behind a moment longer, considering the sight in front of her. 

Just days from now, they’d pass the first anniversary of bringing these kids into their home. Life ever since had been full of give and take. Challenging, but fulfilling. Busy, but fun. Heartbreaking, but rewarding.

These kids had turned their lives upside down in all the best ways, and Jaime was right: it was impossible to imagine where they’d be without them. 

Surely they could make it with one more.

[ladyspellwood]

Spellwood Week Day 3: Songs

Song: “Surround me” - LÉON

Zelda looked down at her now empty bourbon decanter and shot back the last of the dark liquid in her glass. Standing in their dark kitchen she stared out at the mortuary grounds, only seeing her own worries dancing through her head. Her head sank and she stubbed out her cigarette.

She groaned and stood up straight. To heaven with it. Buttoning her coat, she walked to the front hall and slipped her fur over her shoulders.

“Where are you going, auntie?” Sabrina called out. She and Ambrose sat together going through what looked to be Latin homework while Hilda worked on a puzzle beside them.

“Out,” she said not wanting to deal with her niece, she’d had enough of Sabrina’s drama this week and her frayed nerves needed none of her melodramatics.

An edge of annoyance entered Sabrina’s voice, “and where are you going out to?” Zelda opened the front door and faced her entitled niece.

“Last I checked I was the adult and you were the sixteen-year-old,” she stated with a strict finality before she slammed the door shut behind her.

Sabrina turned to Hilda, gesturing vaguely at the front door. “It’s better not to ask questions you don’t want the answer to, love.” Hilda had a decent guess where her sister was off to and what she was going to do or more specifically who. Sabrina dropped her Latin book and went to the front window. When Zelda reached the end of the drive she vanished and Ambrose called her back before any stupid ideas like following her aunt made their way into her mind.

Zelda apparated to his front porch and didn’t pause before knocking. While everything else in her life seemed to be in shambles, he remained constant and she needed something stable to cling to.

Faustus Blackwood opened the door and seemed surprised to see her, not that she could blame him.

“Zelda?”

“May I come in?”

“Of course.” He stood back to allow her to enter but something seemed off about her. Despite being well after midnight, her hair and makeup remained immaculate but she seemed almost unsure of herself. Something he had never seen before. As she stood in his study, he picked up his abandoned whiskey glass and waited for her. When she didn’t say anything by the time he finished it, he realized he would have to make the first move. Setting the empty glass aside he opened his arms to her and she gratefully stepped into them. Her arms wrapped around his waist and he could taste the bourbon on her lips as she kissed him slowly. It felt vulnerable in a way like she was cherishing it. An almost impossible notion and yet when she ended the kiss her eyes held a soft sadness that broke his heart.

Her hands on his back drew him closer and her dark eyelashes hid her eyes from him but she let out a quiet sigh as he held her tightly. He didn’t know what hurt her to the point of driving her into his arms but he felt a possessive need to protect her from it. Though when she looked up at him again her green eyes had darkened. Unsure if she sought him out for physical distraction or not, he slowly began to unfasten her coat making sure she watched and could halt him if he misjudged the look in her eye.

Instead of stopping him, she let the black mink stole slip from her shoulders and fall to the ground with a soft thump. Her coat followed soon after. The sleeves on Faustus'dress shirt were rolled up to his forearms but at least he'd already removed his stiff collar and his suit jacket. She pulled the shirt from his slacks and ran her hands up his chest, the feel of her nails grazing his skin made his slacks tight. Though desire quickly replaced the pain in her eyes when she leaned up to kiss him again her lips remained tender.

She divested him of his shirt with practiced ease and placed her hands on the tattoos in his chest. Normally she raced through undressing him and herself with animalistic intensity but once again she chose to slow things down and draw it out. He continued to hold her waiting to see how far she planned to go, he didn’t want to push her. Not when she walked into his house looking tired and helpless. She stepped out of her heels and kicked them aside before kissing him again.

His eyes closed when she deepened the kiss, enjoying the feel of her hands traveling up his bare chest. He trailed a hand along her back looking for the dress’s zipper. Despite his mounting need for her, he tugged the zipper down slowly so he could keep her there a little longer. The dress slackened on her body and she let him go to pull her arms out of it and toss it onto the pile. Left in only her lingerie he drank in the sight of her. The flickering light of the fire danced along her pale skin. She looked more herself now but he couldn’t forget the brokenness he saw on his front porch.

Instead of pulling off her underthings and setting her on his desk as they’d done a hundred times before, he stepped forward and held her head in his hands. He kissed her softly, but when she tried to deepen it, he retreated and began to kiss along her jawline. His hands roamed down her sides until they cupped her pert ass. When he moved his lips down her neck, he saw her eyes flutter closed and her mouth open in a wordless sigh. It seemed she was no longer thinking about whatever worries brought her over and for that he was grateful.

Pleased by her response, he forged a hot trail of kisses down her chest until he took the tip of her breast into his mouth and teased it with his tongue. A small moan slipped past her lips and he switched to the other and heard the delicate noise again. Her fingers wove into his hair while he moved lower, kneeling so he could nip at her hip bones before he kissed her through her panties. The sweet sound of her breath hitching brought him back to his feet to kiss her properly once more.

With her hands still in his hair, he kissed her hard and she returned the intensity with her usual fire. He lifted her and she readily locked her legs around his hips. Her lips moved and planted kisses on his face, jaw, neck, and wherever she could reach. He squeezed her ass in encouragement while he walked them towards the stairs. She paused, confused as to why she hadn’t been placed on his desk or some other vaguely horizontal surface in his study. He met her gaze and didn’t bother to hide the small smile on his lips while he regarded the gorgeous creature in his hands.

He mounted the stairs quickly and she resumed her ministrations. Making it to his bedroom proved difficult, it always did whenever she started nibbling his ear and sucking on his neck. They finally made it to his door and he nudged it open only to use her to shut it again. They shared another hungry kiss while he pinned her there before he brought her over to the bed. 

---

Afterward, she surprised him again and stayed next to him, even resting her head on his shoulder while she stared at nothing and traced small circles on his chest. Still worried about her he put a hand behind his head and looked down at her. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently

“Its nothing. Just the usual headaches of trying to manage Sabrina on top of everything else,” she sighed and glanced at him apologetically. He knew it would take more than just Sabrina's special brand of defiance to rattle Zelda but if she wanted him to know she would have told him. Besides pressing her for details would only make her less likely to show up on his doorstep the next time her world became too overwhelming so he conceded defeat. If by some miracle she stayed through the night she might be more forthcoming in the morning.

As though sensing his disbelief she apologized. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He turned off the light and they remained quiet for a while before she shifted on his chest.

“I missed you.” She whispered it quietly half hoping he might not hear it. While she wanted to tell him everything, she didn't think she could form the words.

“I’m glad you came.” The arm behind her shoulders tightened around her and she closed her eyes. After weeks of restless nights, sleep finally found her and she slept peacefully.

[calleo-bricriu]

1943

(( Larger resolution pics of the cards can be found here.  ))

@absintheabsence​

Of course, of course the first thing Calleo did when Grindelwald allowed him to have his deck of cards out was shuffle the deck a few times and offer a smile that could cut glass.

That likely left little doubt as to who Calleo was going to aim the damned things at. A stupid move, for certain, but one took petty revenge where one could while being kept locked in--admittedly, a tower room was nicer than a dungeon prison cell, but a cage is a cage no matter how nicely decorated it is.

Had he been sitting across a desk from Grindelwald, he'd have simply thrown the cards to  land in front of the other Wizard. In this case, there was no such desk or table. The Emperor had stopped in the doorway when he realised Calleo had started shuffling the deck.

"Kind of you to allow me to continue as the last time I left it, you were still consistently a sword filled tower." The first card Calleo flicked at Grindelwald came to a halt angled and facing him.

"Justice. Interesting start. Considering how consistent they've been in the past where you're concerned, I highly doubt you'll be the one dealing karmic justice and laying consequences onto others in the process." Calleo shrugged lightly, curling up into the chair he'd been occupying normally.

"Even more interesting..." the second and third cards, flicked toward Grindelwald in the same manner as the first, took their respective spots. The Hierophant next to Justice, and the Two of Swords next to the Hierophant.

"It's not a Tower, not yet at any rate, but you're being driven to a stalemate when it comes to this push toward what one might consider 'traditional values' from your own. A push for conformity from people who were set in their ways long before you met them."

Calleo's head tilted in its typical bird-like fashion, "And you don't know what to do about that, do you? They're under your control--or, rather, they’re allowing you to have that illusion for the time being--but beyond it at the same time and you've let it go too long to pull them back in line without risking the whole tapestry unraveling--so you're going to right on denying that such a rift could possibly exist, let alone that it's quickly moving toward at point in which you'll be caught right in the middle."

"Divided loyalties, torn between two relationships, the need to face your fears and the truth that goes along with it and a complete inability to do either."

Calleo's hand rested on the top card of the deck, "You could end it now or you could keep pushing forward." The glint that had been present in Calleo's smile, now fully lit his eyes.

"We'll go with the rational path first; the one where you realise this has all got way out of hand and you put an end to it." The card that ended up flung off to the lower left of Justice came up the Ace of Pentacles, followed by the Page of Cups and the Five of Cups.

"There, now, you see? You'll have some losses, but that's to be expected if you're putting the kibosh on a good number of your current staff's ideology and, overall, the outcome is a good one; prosperity, financial and political success, mended relationships--but you're not going to go that route, are you, Emperor?" There was an emphasis on the title that seemed...off. Not sarcastic or passive-aggressive, just...not right. "That would mean admitting fault, or that you'd made missteps, and Merlin knows that's not a thing you'd ever admit to anyone."

"More likely," three more cards were flicked in Grindelwald's direction, taking their places starting below the Two of Swords and extending out, "you're going to continue to assume that your creativity and inspiration will be enough to guide them and your assumption is that it will be successful and bring your little created 'family' back into one cohesive circle again, which it absolutely will not."

"As it begins and continues to crumble and you try to keep everything held together and appear as a united front to anyone on the outside, anyone on the inside will know better and you'll be overloaded, stressed, feeling taken for granted by those around you, and will end up picking up what others drop in an effort to keep it all from falling to pieces, which will only circle back and continue to drag you down to such a degree that you'd be willing to take any end in sight, even one--by this point--that would result in both your death and the death of your empire."

"Ah, there you are!" the last card Calleo flicked Grindelwald's way settled beneath the path Calleo thought more likely.

The Tower.

"And, as you always have in the past when this one has shown up, you'll try to take as much with you in the fall. Of course, the Tower always has an element of rebuilding around it, though most who get it can't see the forest for the trees when all they're staring in the face again is an inevitable and spectacularly destructive fall from grace."

Nobody in their right mind should or would have been as relaxed as Calleo appeared but, Calleo had been of the mindset for several years that if Grindelwand wanted to kill him he'd simply kill him, not keep him around for entertainment. And, arguably, he hadn’t been in his right mind for decades anyway.

Calleo waved a hand lazily, "Let's get rid of that branch we both know you're not about to take and see what gets rebuilt from the ruins of the Tower, shall we?"

The Ace of Pentacles, Page of Cups, and Five of Cups dutifully got out of the way and came to rest on the table next to Calleo's chair. The other cards shifted as a group to allow other cards room to build from the wreckage of the Tower.

This time, Calleo didn't stop at drawing six. As he drew cards this time, not yet showing them to Grindelwald, his expression changed from one of almost gleeful prediction of Grindelwald's downfall into confusion.

"That--hm. Apologies, you'll need to give me a moment."

This time, the cards were flicked toward the doorway in one large group of fourteen, seven on each row.

"Unexpected, but to pare it down, it looks as though you're going to rebuild yourself into something useful and stable. Eventually. Though, not on your own. The first three cards show that; regaining confidence and a sense of freedom, moving forward, personal growth--inexplicably that one also can indicate long distance romance, which makes a bit more sense when taking into account that that plus all the indicators of security, kindness, warmth, success, optimism, joy, good luck for a damn change, a renewed enthusiasm for life in general, becoming more open--all of that will come from within but will be lit by an external source."

Calleo's expression now was significantly more neutral. "And that source will be someone who is older--not necessarily older than you, just an older adult, who is stable, dependable, protective, practical, and wickedly good at business.”

“Reiterated by the King of Cups; someone who, in addition to the previous card's indications, is relatively calm, tends to be sympathetic and caring, tolerant to a fault, good at keeping things in balance, easy going, and devoted to those he's decided are worthy of that devotion.”

“And apart from the generally boring sort I just described, the Queen of Wands brings in independent, confident, chaotic, and passionate energy and who is amazing at handling a lot of tasks at once, keeping them all organised, and taking charge when necessary--and doing so without being overbearing or forceful about it.”

“They'll bring with them new ideas, new visions that stem from mental clarity and intellectual ability both of which come from everything else I just said," he squinted at the card, "Intense, focused, able to wield authority when it's needed to enforce what they feel is the correct decision, able to follow through and communicate, as well as shift focus and tactics if the original plans don't go quite to plan."

"More reiteration of the last row with the Empress,” Calleo now sounded almost bored at the cards’ repetition, “even more reiteration with Strength, though that one does give the indication that through the other apparently infinitely patient person's efforts you'll get the support you need to overcome crippling self-doubt and regain some level of inner strength, compassion, and self-control."

"Not that it'll be all that stable at the start," the Moon card illuminated itself, "you'll have a good lot of instability, anxiety, fear, misreading of whatever the situation is, and it'll all be fueled by deep seated insecurity centered around fears of being lied to or used."

Calleo shook his head and laughed while moving on to the next card, "I have absolutely no idea who could possibly have the amount of patience required to both get you to that point and past it but someone obviously does; whoever it is, it's someone you've got a lot of shared values with and who is likely a hell of a lot more like you than they'd ever care to admit but begrudgingly will as, all those other cards, give a strong indication that they'd never be able to walk away and leave you to whatever fate it is you land in that'll have left you an anxious wreck."

"Next one," the King of Wands waved his spiky club, "appears to describe--in this context anyway--a combination of personality traits of the two people already described; you know the drill: Confident, experienced, charming, easy sense of humour, largely fearless, highly motivated, passionate, dependable, protective, but can also be a little controlling or hot tempered and at a point in life in which neither of them necessarily cares if they're seen as odd."

"And nearing the end, I might normally consider this a negative as it can mean abandonment, however, in the context of the other cards, I'm inclined to think it means letting go of and walking away from the past, as tiring as that may be, the last few cards will have provided enough emotional strength and self-discovery to allow for it even if it is difficult."

"Knight of Swords seems oddly out of place," Calleo shrugged lazily and stretched while he kept speaking, "though it could simply be describing the sort of person you end up being after rebuilding what is hopefully not another tower; assertive, impatient, impulsive, daring, rebellious, ambitious, risk-taker, progressive thinking, all of that which," that knife-edged grin returned, "is how I suspect you already think of yourself now and know damn well is an illusion you've created for yourself."

“Funny thing is, that’s the same card that showed up describing you in--” Calleo blinked and caught himself, smiling politely and shaking his head, “--it’s not relevant. Yet.”

"We both know this deck has consistently described you as you are now with the Tower surrounded by the less pleasant Swords, and the fact that it’s changed to the Knight of Swords is...interesting."

"Looks as though you're going to cheerfully self-destruct, while taking as many people with you as you can manage on the way down, as this deck has consistently indicated only after this Tower hits, you'll slowly rebuild--with the assistance of someone else, it appears--into a reasonably decent person." Any of what Calleo had been saying could have been more than enough to earn him some sort of very likely very painful punishment for the blatant disrespect but, out of it all, that last statement may have easily been the one that sealed it.

[gerudospiriit]

Finding Fun

Handing over the reins of her mare to the inn’s stable hand was easily the most grueling task Nabooru had endured in all sixteen years of her life. More arduous than the training and punishments from Bruvi, the second in command and the best warrior the Gerudo possessed who had taken her under her wing and was well known for her harsh and brutal training regimens. More difficult than fighting off groups of raiders twice her size singlehandedly. She would even prefer when she nearly perished on the steps of the Spirit Temple at age eight in a pride-fueled exploit to prove her elder peers wrong over this.

She gripped the leather tighter as the boy reached out for them, her jaw clenched as she considered mounting her horse again and riding back to the desert to return to her normal regimen. Aveil and Vasi had already surrendered their mounts and chittered excitedly about the voe Vasi planned to meet up with again a few meters away. If she hopped back up on her horse now, she could escape easily. Camp out the next few days somewhere in Hyrule Field to avoid the inevitable, invasive questions that would follow her returning from basically an order to spend her free days in Hyrule proper (she needed to take it easy or she would burn out, they said). Anything would beat tagging along with these two while they flirted with any voe they could and likely ending up abandoned and sneaking back to their shared room at the inn alone, avoiding any and all those who would try to convince her to stray from that path to their room instead.

She sighed and continued her mental mantra of “it won’t be so bad” that she had taken up on the ride from home. A little too roughly, she handed her mount over and joined the other two Gerudo. She quelled her present and future annoyance with them by bolstering her pride, comparing the red garb of a warrior she donned (now for two years) to the purple of the lower ranking guards they still wore. A testament to her hard work over worrying about spending her free days cavorting with stupid Hylian boys or slacking off in general. Neither of them would wear those colors much longer, Aveil joining her in red and Vasi trading purple for orange, an artisan and seamstress under Nabooru’s mother. Their own initiation had been pushed back by Ganondorf’s coronation in the coming weeks. Nabooru had been grateful for her historic, early initiation; otherwise she would find herself in the same situation as Vasi and Aveil...not that either of them seemed bothered. She would have been furious, future king of the Gerudo or not.

The thought of Ganondorf did nothing to curb her annoyance either. When all this talk and her vehement complaints to him of the forced outing to Hyrule on her free days reached him, she thought that he would rally behind her, his own territorial nature taking precedence over all else at the very thought of other men trying to bed her (she hadn’t even slept with him yet, after all, though the promise of it loomed with the completion of his coronation). Usually, she would never even subtly suggest he use his position and influence to help her out of a tight spot, to vouch for her, or aid her in any way. She made a point not to, as she did not wish to take advantage of their friendship turned blooming relationship. This one time that she did, Ganondorf failed to take a hint, his mind occupied with his coronation, and he suggested she “try to enjoy herself” and “come back with fun stories.” But, she could not blame his distraction; she could only imagine being on the brink of ascending to the throne of their people. It was a heavy burden, one she knew he could handle if needed, but even someone as confident as him were not immune to the weight of duty.

An elbow to her side returned her to the emptying cobbled streets as the sunlight began to die. “Are you going to even try to enjoy yourself, Nabs?” Aveil asked, leading the way to their destination. Nabooru recognized the path and the alley they entered. The pub tucked away here was seedier than the rest, run down, smelled of all sorts of ungodly smells, and attracted the shadier sorts. To Nabooru, these sorts were far more interesting, and it meant she might at least get to witness a fight, if not engage in one herself. Thieves, gamblers, past and future convicts, and anyone else down on their luck flocked to this particular haunt and, as far as most Hylians were concerned, a couple Gerudo would fit right in. Nabooru was just grateful it kept the stares and whispers to a minimum. No one questioned their age there, either. While considered adults by Gerudo standards, Hylians only allowed those eighteen and older to drink.

“I don’t know. Are the two of you going to abandon me to the Wolfos again?” She narrowed her eyes at the two of them. Aveil only grinned, and Vasi had already thrown the door open to scan the area for the voe she had met last time and exchanged letters with in the meantime. Nabooru saw Vasi’s eyes light up before she flounced through the rest of the patrons. “Well, that’s one down. Want to make bets how long it will take you to disappear, too, Aveil?”

An eyeroll was all the response she received as Aveil tugged her over to the bar. She pushed her down onto a stool and flopped onto the one next to her. “Just try.” She waved the bartender over and ordered them both a drink. “That doesn’t mean you have to warm some voe’s bed, you know.”

Nabooru grunted and took a generous swig from the tankard set in front of her. She grimaced at the taste, but she supposed after two additional drinks, she would hardly notice or care. “This just isn’t my thing. I have better things to be doing than drinking and trying to avoid perverts. Like--”

“Training or reading or meditating or blah, blah, blah,” Aveil finished for her. “And that’s how you find an early death if the sword or starvation doesn’t get you first, Nabooru.”

She opened her mouth to berate Aveil for belittling the struggle of their people, but instead took the opportunity to drain the rest of her ale and order more. “Can’t die by the sword if you’re so good no one can touch you,” she grumbled, swiping up the new tankard and gulping down another large swig. A weak argument, she knew, and Aveil obviously wasn’t impressed either. It amused her at least.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you weren’t capable of having fun. I bet you couldn’t find something fun to do here if your life depended on it.”

Nabooru narrowed her eyes at her best friend in the face of her smirk. She knew exactly what game Aveil played. She issued a challenge, telling her she couldn’t do or handle something. She tried to resist, glaring into the bottom of her tankard as she drank. The tactic only further peeved her, mostly because it was threatening to work. She bounced her leg as her knuckles paled around the handle of her tankard. Really, in this situation she could not win. If she did not rise to the challenge, she proved Aveil “right.” If she did, Aveil was still right and she would be obligated to go through with the challenge.

Slamming the empty tankard on the bar, she stood. She would rather be seen as a fool than a coward. Aveil’s smirk widened. “I won’t wait up for you!” she called after her back with a laugh.

Weaving through the quickly filling tables of laughing drunks, arm wrestlers, and card players, she kicked open the door and wandered out onto the street, ignoring the curses of the man who would likely sustain a bump on his forehead where the wood smashed him. The sky had darkened completely, and torches burned to light the path. She entered the square as the last of the vendors and day walkers closed up shop, and the nightcrawlers took to the streets. The din of merchants hawking their wares and hagglers died down to make way for drunken laughter and the giggles of secret lovers as they sought private refuge.

Nabooru sought privacy of her own, the solitude of the room back at the inn. She could easily spin the bet in her favor; at that point, lying in bed and staring at the peeling paint sounded as fun as anything else. Aveil never said she had to find her particular idea exciting. Nabooru had nothing against winning on a technicality.

“--be the best in the guard someday. Watch me.”

Perhaps the ale had begun to affect her, halting her forward motion to eavesdrop on a pair of twenty-somethings. Trainees in the guard, apparently, if the snippet of conversation was anything to go on. A dusty blonde and dark brunette, both with the hair tied back in a stub of a ponytail, neither looked like they could hold a sword, let alone swing it. The brunette was too scrawny and weedy, and the blonde might have better luck handling the sword, but the extra weight he bore suggested likely not for very long. Even the well-seasoned members of the guard had some brawn to them. Brand new recruits, apparently, but she supposed size meant little in the way of the sword. Nothing she couldn’t test with a quick spar.

“Excuse me.” She approached the young Hylians, who both straightened up and rested a hand on their rupee pouches at the sight of her. Their paranoia didn’t keep their eyes from roving her body like a couple of starved Wolfos. She gritted her teeth and cleared her throat; bear it this time. “I couldn’t help but overhear. The two of you are in the guard?”

“Well, training so not—Oof!”

The dark-haired male glared at his cohort as a knobby elbow stuck itself in his ribs. “We are. You’re looking at future generals, Gerudo.” He smirked at her and pushed off the wall he leaned on, chest puffed out. The line was meant to melt her, have her weak at the knees and groveling for further flirtation. Unfortunately for them, she sought a different sort of fun that most girls did not request.  

“That said,” he paused inches in front of her (a mistake considering it only exaggerated the half a head of height she had on him), “if you’re up to no good, we’ll have to apprehend you and keep you locked up for the night. Right, Tarin?”

The blonde, Tarin, took several, awkward seconds to catch his friend’s meaning. “Oh! Yeah, heh. But we would take good care of you.”

Nabooru snorted, resting her hands on her hips. “Sorry, I’m not out making trouble tonight. Too bad, though. Would have looked good to your captain if you could apprehend a Gerudo up to no good.” Their smirks fell, and they exchanged a disappointed glance. She could feel them losing interest, so she had to reel them back in. What worked best with Ganondorf? He was the only male she ever really talked to, and likely a horrible example to hold a couple of horny Hylians to, but she had a challenge to win and a best friend to prove wrong.

“Tarin’s a nice name,” she blurted, earning raised eyebrows from both males. “Nice and, uh, strong. Perfect for a future general of the prestigious Hylian Guard.” She felt her mouth twitch as she held in her laughter. She knew ten-year-olds who could give some of the best Hylian guards a run for their money.  

Pathetic as her attempt seemed, the scoff of the ringleader suggested she had accomplished some form of competition between them. “General Saro easily has a better, tougher ring to it. Tarin could be a girl’s name.”

“What? I’m not a girl! Tarin isn’t a girl’s name!”

“Guys, guys.” Her voice thankfully reeled their attention back to her rather than each other’s throats. “Both of your names are great. So manly. Nabooru is the only girl’s name I can think of off the top of my head, and it sounds nothing like your names.”

“Heh...that’s a weird name. Na-boo-ru.” Tarin snickered, earning him a glare from the Gerudo and another sharp jab from his buddy.

“Excuse my friend,” said Saro, bowing reverently though with a playful air to it. “He’s a little...slow in the head.”

“I noticed.” Tarin grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms, and Saro rebolstered himself in his victory. Nabooru leaned to the side and nodded toward sword at the brunette’s hip. “You expect to be the best swordsman in the guard, right? How good are you?”

Saro didn’t miss a beat. “The best in all the land, of course.” Even Tarin had to nod in agreement. “My father has taught me how to swordfight since I was five. Even Lady Impa was impressed with me.”

Nabooru hummed in feigned admiration; she took note of the fact that men responded to stroking their ego. She could likely get them to pay her at this point. But rupees were not her aim. “That is impressive.” Fingers grazed the hilt of one of the blades at her own hip. “Care to test yourself against a Gerudo warrior? Just a friendly spar to test our skills.”

“Heh...well, that would be a decent test of my abilities...”

Tarin scrunched his nose, his round face screwing up in displeasure at the thought of his friend sparring with her. She started to suggest they could both spar with her, but the blonde expressed his true grievance before she could: “Come on, Saro. This is the only night we’re going to have to whatever we want for months. We can’t spend it doing the same thing we do every. Day. I thought we were getting drinks!”

“Hmph.” The shorter male pondered each proposal, his too pointy chin jutting out stubbornly as if to defy both of them. He tapped his thumb on the end of his sword’s hilt. “My friend here has a point, Nabooru.” Tarin’s grimace turned to a pleased grin. “But, perhaps after a few drinks, we can have that friendly spar. It’s not every day I get the chance to practice with a beautiful woman.”

The Gerudo wanted nothing more than to point out that the reason beautiful women never challenged him to a fight was likely because his society typically frowned upon the idea of women warriors, but her disappointment with their decision to choose alcohol over a good fight overpowered that particular desire. So much for her brand of fun. Perhaps Aveil had a point in some way: she could not find fun here because her interests diverged too far from that of most other people. She thought perhaps she had gotten lucky finding these two. Warriors with ambition (if not overconfidence). But, after this short exchange, they proved more Aveil's type of company than her own.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Saro suggested. “Be easier than trying to find each other later.”

The cynical part of her whispered she should refuse, their initial suggestive dialogue unsettling at best. She imagined the peeling, pea green paint in their room at the inn and succumbing to sleep on the lumpy, possibly bug infested mattress. Aveil waking her when and if she stumbled back in drunk, giggling and talking too loudly for the cramped space. She knew she would not see Vasi until they were ready to head back to the fortress unless she decided to abandon them for marriage and life out here.  

She inwardly sighed. “Alright. Sure. I’ll go with you.”

“Wait.” Tarin squinted at her, gaze critical over the lusty stares they greeted her with. “Are you even old enough to drink?”

“Someone already thought I was. So, sure.”

“Hey, she’s got confidence,” Saro snorted and started off, Tarin and Nabooru following. “That counts for enough. By now, everyone is probably too drunk to care. She can pass as old enough, anyway. I know a place where we can get free drinks. The barmaid is crazy about anyone in the guard. That’s what Franz told me.”

The rest of their conversation devolved into names she didn’t recognize and training stories she didn’t care about. She did glean from them that Tarin came from a noble family, his father shoehorning him a place among the guard’s trainees after he apparently choked at the initial try out. Nerves, he claimed, not a lack of skill. Saro was an only child to farmers and couldn’t stand the lifestyle. Thus, he left his parents to seek out the life in the Hylian army. Though his captains called his form sloppy and his style unrefined, he showed promised, which Saro translated to future general because he put the rest of the green trainees to shame in the practice yard.

Inside the bar, a much more relaxed atmosphere than the one she left and attached to an inn frequented by Hylian guards on their off days, Nabooru selected a table out of the way and waited for the trainees to return with the drinks. Elbow propped on the table and chin resting in her hand, she fought her restlessness with people watching. She recognized a few of the usual merchants sharing a drink over a game of chess by the fire, laughing instead of at each other’s throats for sales. Two of the inn’s maids taking a break leaned against the walls in the corner, drinking tea and looking unimpressed with whatever the drunk man speaking with them was pitching.  

“She must have had the night off.”  

Saro’s gruff and frustrated statement and the scrape of chair legs on the stone floor drew her attention from the man and woman awkwardly drudging through some mockery of conversation. Tarin slid her a shot of amber liquid and a tankard filled with ale (that she hoped tasted better than the stuff she had earlier).  

“I take it things didn’t go as well as you hoped with that bar maid?” Nabooru smirked as she dug some rupees from her pouch and slid them across the table to Saro. She ignored the scrunch of his nose and the twist of his mouth as he stared at the gems a moment too long. He finally added them to his own rupee pouch. “Or maybe that Franz guy was just messing with you?”

Tarin shook as he tried to maintain his laughter under Saro’s warning glare. “She told him he was the third and not the best-looking trainee trying to get free stuff tonight, and that if he didn’t plan to pay he needed to leave.”

Saro swiped up his shot and drained it, wincing and waiting for them to follow suit. Taking the tiny glass between her thumb and middle finger, she tipped it back into her mouth. Whiskey. It burned her tongue and throat, but it beat the ale she sucked down earlier that evening. She set the glass down and leaned back in her chair. She would have to limit the shots if she hoped to keep her wits for their spar.  

Or, so she thought. Saro had already finished his tankard and was waving down a maid for another while Tarin swallowed half of his in one swig. She frowned; at this rate, she suspected both of them would be far too drunk to offer any sort of challenge. Their flailing and falling over might prove amusing, but amusement paled in comparison to a fair and challenging victory.

She huffed through her nose and lifted her own tankard to her lips and waved the maid’s request for another drink or shot off with her free hand. She did not know which, but either the last, slim glimmer of hope or the knowledge that she may need to keep her wits about her to make an escape convinced her to stay sober.  

“So, what’s the desert like?” Tarin asked once they both had their drink refilled. “Hot?”

“Hot,” she agreed, setting her cup back on the table. “During the day, anyway. Cold at night. Sandy. It’s hard to navigate if you don’t know what you’re doing, but I think it’s beautiful overall.”

The maid brought around two more drinks for each of them. “How do you train in the heat?” Saro asked, paying the woman before she strode off, now empty tray beneath her arm. “I can’t even stand the summer heat here.”

“Well, when you grow up in it, you probably don’t notice it as much, idiot.” Tarin snorted and winced when Saro punished him with a blow to the arm. “Hey! That’s just common sense!”

In spite of herself, Nabooru couldn’t help but laugh. They amused her at the very least. “He’s right, I guess. I’m just used to it. What I don’t understand is how the lot of you fight in full, clunky, metal armor. Especially in the summer. Isn’t it hard to move in it? It seems restrictive.”

Saro nodded behind his tankard and finished it off, wiping his mouth with his forearm as he pushed the empty cup away. “Absolutely. It’s like a sweat swamp in those tin cans, and don’t get me started on trying to fight in them.” A shrug. “But I guess you just get used to that, too. Tarin still struggles, but he’s not the most athletic, as you can see.”

“At least I can wield a broadsword without nearly taking someone’s head off because it’s too heavy,” said Tarin, one of the fresh tankards brought to his lips. He slurped the ale down. “So, are the Gerudo really all women, or is that another lie they tell us trainees to get us in trouble?”

“Oh, that one’s true. But don’t get any ideas,” she warned, narrowing her eyes at the lascivious glance they shared. “Outsiders aren’t allowed passed the valley. Though one male is born every century. The one now is a few years older than me.”

“Whoa. Lucky guy. I’d trade him places, anyway.” Both males laughed and knocked their tankards together, earning them an eyeroll from Nabooru. She had to stifle a shudder and soften her sour expression at the thought of either of them taking Ganondorf’s place. They would make a mockery of the position for one, and she certainly would not harbor the same feelings she had for the prince for either of them. To take either of them seriously as a leader would prove difficult enough, but anything beyond a casual friendship would be nigh impossible. Her work ethic would likely drive them away from her in the first place, and she drank to the Goddess of the Sand for that.

She pondered her next words, a reprimand, for all of a few seconds: “Keep talking like that and you’ll never find yourself lucky enough to have more than words with a Gerudo.” A lie, almost; it just depended on who they managed to talk to. But, it ended their guffawing. And, if they listened, perhaps they would learn to treat the Gerudo and other women a bit more respectfully. “We have far too much pride to allow anyone to speak of us like that.”

The silence between them spoke volumes, a smug smirk on her lips. Saro finally drank from his tankard and cleared his throat. “I guess we shouldn’t argue with advice from a real live Gerudo.” He slurred his words some, a tell-tale sign that the alcohol he consumed would most certainly derail their plan to spar. She was far too proud to challenge him intoxicated. Where was the challenge in that?

The rest of the conversation devolved when the man-boys decided to turn their drinking into a competition. They slugged back drinks like water, and would shoot her a random question about herself or the Gerudo when they remembered her presence. At one point, Tarin asked her to flex her arm so they could test her muscles. She humored them, and their wide eyes and praise only boosted her ego, the odd request quickly forgiven. Soon, the maid cut them off despite their begging and sent them stumbling and giggling to the door.

Nabooru remained in her seat, snickering as she watched Tarin trip over the leg of a chair. A cleared throat raised her attention away from Tarin scrambling back to his feet as Saro pointed and laughed, nearly walking into the doorframe himself. Gold eyes met the olive green of the barmaid, the woman’s chestnut eyebrows pulled together in frustration. She rested her free hand on her hip and clicked her tongue.

“Are you not going to help your friends home?”

The Gerudo snorted. “They’re not really my friends, so I hadn’t really planned to, no.”

“Unless you’re going to buy more drinks,” she pointed to the door, “I suggest you leave me a generous tip since your not friends neglected to and get lost. Paying customers only.”

Nabooru stubbornly retained her seat and grit her teeth. However, after a few seconds of seething beneath the maid’s glare, she decided that the last entertainment this place had to offer departed with Saro and Tarin. Grumbling, she dug some rupees from her wallet and headed back out into the night.

Upon reaching the square, she grimaced when she found the trainees had not made it far. Tarin hunched over a planter, back heaving as he vomited. Saro turned around in circles, expression distant and making him appear confused and lost. As soon as they exited the bar (and left her to tip the maid), her business with them should have ended. Everything in her screamed to just return to the inn and get some sleep, as she would likely need to care for Aveil in the morning. But she stayed rooted to the spot, unable to peel her gaze away from the catastrophe in front of her.

Growling, she stomped over to Saro and seized his forearm, dragging him back over to Tarin. Once the blonde pulled his head from the planter and cleared his lips of any residue with the back of his hand, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Castle’s this way, idiots,” she scolded, leading them toward the walls and spires rising to stars above. She would escort them to the gate and dump them on the guard there. She refused to try and get them any further. “Damn lightweights. If you throw up on me, I’ll throw you in the moat, by the way.”

“Hey, Tarin.” He snorted as he shuffled along beside her. “Think she’s mad we left her?”

Nabooru simply rolled her eyes and tuned out the other trainee’s response and the rest of their drivel, knowing she would likely knock them both out if she listened. As she approached the gate, she shifted her grip to their upper arms and yanked them up, trying to help them show a little bit of dignity.  

The guard at the gate lifted the visor of his helmet, gaze shifting between the two young men and then to pause on Nabooru. “Tch, odd for a Gerudo to bring her victims straight to someone who could arrest her,” he sneered. She noticed his grip tighten on his spear. “Get them all liquored up before robbing them blind, did you?”

The protests from the trainees told her she had squeezed a little too hard in her aggravation. She released them and shoved them toward the guard (hard enough, but not so much that they would trip in their current state). Fiery words burned hotter in her throat than any liquor could as she swallowed them back. As much as she wanted to teach the idiot a lesson—either verbally or physically—she kept her composure.  

Gold eyes narrowed into slits as she scoffed. “You said it yourself: that would be stupid,” she snapped. “These two are your problem now.”

She turned on her heel and didn’t wait for a response, keeping her ears open in case he decided to make good on that promise to try and arrest her. She reached the Market once more without hearing footsteps, the clink of armor, or demands to stop a thief. Almost disappointed, as she still craved a decent fight, Nabooru strode back to the inn.

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

Finding Aveil stretched out on the bed upon her arrival surprised her and, judging by the Aveil’s arched brow, her best friend was equally stunned. She sat up, tossing the book she’d likely dug out of Nabooru’s things to the side. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you back here at all,” she admitted, crossing her legs. “Thought you might have actually found some fun after all.”

As she toed off her shoes and sat down on the edge of the bed, Nabooru considered telling Aveil about her misadventures. Finding Tarin and Saro boasting in the streets. Challenging them to a fight. How they dragged her to a bar, got too drunk to function, and she dragged them back to the castle. While she had had some semblance of fun, meaning she could easily win their little wager, the fact that a large part of her wanted to just forget the whole thing suggested that it all likely only amounted to an amusing distraction at best.

Nabooru untied her wallet from her hip and tossed what remained of her rupees into Aveil’s lap. “Sure didn’t,” she said, sliding the jewel from her hair and undressing. She pulled back the sheets and dove underneath them. “Guess I’m not cut out for the lifestyle out here.”

[jungnoir]

3.“Yes, they’re perfect, but…” with eunwoo in the same universe as "how to train your sanha" pls

all this and heaven too;

cha eunwoo | 3. “Yes, they’re perfect, but…” fantasy!au, royalty!au, how to train your sanha!au. | 3.7k words. | wow the angst, romance.

a/n: AHHHH u don’t know how excited I am to do a requested spin off of something else I did ok ok. you can read how to train your sanha for a lil backstory on prince eunwoo if you like :)


Prince Eunwoo was not a stranger to getting what he wanted. As the heir to the Kingdom of Caelum, there was not a thing out of reach for the royal family (it could even be argued that there was nothing out of reach for the common people as well). So, when Prince Eunwoo sprints into his father’s arms after a summer away at his uncle’s estate and tells him all about how Uncle Seunghoon has a pet dragon and all about how they just have to get one now, well... he gets exactly that.

The duties of the young prince had always been fairly obvious: classical training in several musical instruments, etiquette classes out of the wazoo, and socializing with every single person of noble and royal blood from age 8 to age 80. Eunwoo had no problem with the majority, but when it came to spending time with snooty lords and ladies seeking to betroth him to their bratty children, he preferred the company of dragons.

There was something unmatched about turning out of his royal garments and into the commoner clothing he’d acquired from the servants over the years (“Never for the king and queen to know about, understand?”), sneaking out into the night (past several guards. His ability had definitely matured over time), and spilling his thoughts to the creatures that lurked in the dark. Dragons, in the kingdom of Caelum, were a rarity amongst even the wealthiest of nobles. With their stubborn and independent natures, “owning” a dragon wasn’t the right term. No, it was more like Eunwoo was offering them a home to rest in when they so felt like it. In return? They gave him their undying loyalty and affection.

The amount of times servants had found the prince curled up in the tails of the dragons, fast asleep and unaware of the excitement amongst the servant’s quarters as they all bustled to get the young prince back to his room without raising any eyebrows were far too many to count on all the chefs’ fingers combined. As the prince got older and his... habits became accepted by the king and queen, the memories became humorous tales. Tales to keep in the past... once Eunwoo turned 21. 


“I know that this is upsetting, my love,” the queen’s voice had always been this gentle, but right now it feels so forced as he stands in the throne room with teeth gritted, “but it’s time that you start focusing on your princely duties... you are of age for many new things, after all.” 


Many new things, Eunwoo scoffs quietly as he thinks, they could only mean one thing. 


The king nods his head from beside his wife, chin rested on his fist with a neutral expression. His parents, Eunwoo notes, look like they’ve been raring to have this conversation for a long while now, but only now did they have a legitimate excuse to do so that Eunwoo couldn’t deny. He was 21. He was of age to take the throne at any time, had finished his studies with impeccably high marks, and was at the peak age to marry. There was no reason for him not to focus on these things. In fact, he should have been focusing on them years ago, but... he had hoped... a little longer, maybe. 


You let out a soft sigh from your spot near the entrance, a knight to your left and right who don’t dare make eye contact with you or anyone else in the room. You had been dreading this very moment since the minute you’d been handed the formal letter requesting Eunwoo’s daily activities be halted for an important meeting with the monarchs that morning. You had been dreading this moment since you’d become Eunwoo’s personal advisor, being made aware of Eunwoo’s current priorities and how they didn’t exactly sit well with the king and queen now that he was older. Eunwoo wanted to explore, learn of all that the kingdom had to offer, and the king and queen wanted him to marry and take the throne in two years time (less time was actually preferred; two years was the grace of God at this point). Watching this was torture. 


“I know you both well enough to figure there’s already a list of those many new things waiting for me to get started on right away.” Eunwoo tries to keep his sarcasm at its minimum. It doesn’t work.

The king sighs heavily, “Eunwoo, don’t start this. Honestly, you act like this is a shock to you.” 


Eunwoo wants to say that he always knew, that knowing it would happen and actually experiencing it were two very different things, that imagining this day was so much better than actually living through it. Yet, he can’t say a thing. Shouldn’t. Arguing with the inevitable was not an option, that’s not what kings did. 


The queen frowns, “It doesn’t all have to stop. The dragons will always be here, and when you have time, you can travel throughout the kingdom whenever you like. We’re just asking that you start to focus on your future. There are many nobles and royals eager to actually meet you, Eunwoo.” -and introduce you to their darling children to marry them off is what she means to add, but Eunwoo puts that together himself.

“Exactly,” his father chimes in, “they’re not villains. You would love some of these people. After all, they’ve been around us for a long time.” 


“Around us, yeah. But around me? Talked to me besides idle chatter? I don’t know any of them.” Some part of Eunwoo, despite having already given up about 90% internally, still clings to the need to at least make them see that this was the exact opposite of what he wanted to do.

“You had 21 years to get to know them, Eunwoo. Every time they were around, you’d disappear off to those stables and stay as far away from them as possible. Do not blame us or them for what you chose to do.” Unfortunately, the king had a point. Eunwoo was not an innocent player in this game. He had known of his future for a long time, so there was no excuse for distancing himself other than a childish hope that it’d somehow not come true. That hope was being extinguished now under an onslaught of icy cold waves, a wake up call of the least desired degree. 


You clear your throat, trying to be casual and discreet, but you notice the twitch in Eunwoo’s neck when you do. He just catches himself before he can look back at you, a habit he would soon have to grow out of. You had been his guide and sometimes life-jacket in royal matters since you both were children, and it was hard for him not to want to turn to you and hope you could fix this situation with your borderline magical problem-solving abilities. 


“...When do I need to prepare myself?” Eunwoo asks in a compliant tone, though the fire in his eyes doesn’t easily burn out. 


His parents are on edge still, but they look much more relieved by the new direction of the conversation. “You have until tonight, son. We’ll be welcoming a few suitors to court for your birthday celebration, but for now we want you to focus on strengthening relations between our kingdom and the nearby ones first.” The king explains.

Eunwoo decides he can handle that. He’d had intensive training to be able to handle that, after all. Without another word, Eunwoo bends at the waist and tucks a hand behind his back, another curving around his waist. Then he swiftly exits the room with you following quickly behind in swirling anxiety.

“Please say something, your highness,” you start, the smell of the stables for once going ignored by you in favor of deciphering this mess you’ll need to clean up, “anything is fine. Profanity is excused for today, encouraged even.”

You’d much prefer spoiling Eunwoo’s “proper” vocabulary if it meant that he would just say something to you. His silence was far scarier than his vocalization.

Your relationship to Eunwoo was a rather strange one, always bordering on the lines of advisory, friendship, and some other feelings hard to describe. Despite being around the same age, you had been trained since childhood to be several steps ahead of Eunwoo in everything. You were taking advanced royal training while Eunwoo was still learning his ABC’s, able to name every single one of the past kings of Caelum off the top of your head while Eunwoo hadn’t yet learned the first name of his grandfather.

Yet, at the same time, while you were years ahead of the young prince in knowledge and wisdom, you were still a child and you still were childish. The times when you would run off with the prince to the stables to admire the handsome dragons (only to then request leaving as soon as possible as to not end up smelling like dragon dung for the rest of the day) were some of the most fun memories you still kept close to your heart. Back then, Eunwoo had only one dragon, Eliatha, and Eliatha was only big enough at the time to carry both you and Eunwoo a few feet in the air before crashing into a nearby cherry tree and ending the festivities early.

Now, Eliatha’s tired eyes could only stare sadly at the adult prince, wishing to comfort him with a motherly hand rather than just brushing her snout against his leg, but the sentiment was not lost on you or Eunwoo.

Eunwoo continues to run his fingertips down Eliatha’s jade scales with care, a habit he’d found would soothe him whenever he and his father would get into scuffles about his negligence in his royal duties. If ever you were to need to find Eunwoo after a fight between the two of them, you always knew where to go.

“I’m not silent just because I’m angry. I’m watching my words, as all good kings do.” The last bit of his sentence is heavily sarcastic. You can practically feel the prickly words in your chest as you hear them. At least he’s talking to you, though.

You step forward some, stuffing your hands underneath your armpits to keep warm in the chilly air, “Thankfully, the only people good kings don’t need to hold their tongues around are their advisors and their lovers.”

Eunwoo snorts, sparing a glance back at you over his shoulder, “Is that so?”

“Yes! So please,” you check the ground covered in hay and grass for any signs of dragon droppings before taking a cautious seat next to the crouched prince, “spill it. It’ll do you no good to stay quiet.”

The prince looks reluctant even as he makes eye contact with you and holds it; something in those dark eyes says that he currently cannot find the words he wishes to use. Wheels turn in his mind as he assesses the moment before him, a mindful activity to ground him.

Here you are in your royal fatigues, legs tucked underneath you in this place you always either regarded as “smelly” or “nauseating”, just to listen to him... and he can’t feel any worse. 

“I don’t want to complain to you because it isn’t fair,” Eunwoo starts, catching the way your face pinches in puzzlement, “it isn’t fair of me to be upset.”

“I don’t follow...?” You press.

And of course you don’t, Eunwoo thinks; it is no more your fault than it is his own that you don’t know. “This... this isn’t even bad. It’s not what I want but my life could be much, much worse. Who am I to complain that I now get to secure my place as future king of Caelum? Who am I to complain that I’ll have to soon choose a suitor from some of the best of the best the kingdoms have to offer? Who am I, except a spoiled prince who got away with this gig for too long?”

You stare at him, unsure how to approach the conversation. In all your years of knowing the prince, you had never thought... never fathomed that he could feel so against his own emotions. The way he speaks is like he’s berating himself for even bothering to feel bad feelings, as if kings didn’t feel bad things because why would they?

“...Your... position, your highness... it comes with many wonderful things that you should always be grateful for, but it also comes with many burdensome things that you have the right to hate.” Eunwoo looks away from you as you respond, “You may live in a luxurious palace with the privilege of being waited on hand and foot, but you must also sacrifice yourself for the people you love and lead. This is a big thing to ask of any person. There is no easy way to be a good king, and with the good will always come the bad.”

“But look at Minhyuk,” Eunwoo mentions his younger courtier and the image of his kind and gentle disposition comes to mind, “he came from practically nothing and rose to the royal court with the utmost gratitude. He does everything that’s asked of him as a member of the court and never makes a fuss; meanwhile, I can get away with neglecting my birthright because I just “feel” like it. Don’t you think I’m...”

“A brat?”

Eunwoo’s eyes shoot open, then narrow into irritated slits, “...sure.”

You crack a small smile, “Sometimes, but you are one of the most wonderful brats I know.”

“You know more wonderful brats than just me?” Eunwoo’s eyebrow rises in amusement, “That makes me feel special.”

You scoot across the grass until your knees are just touching the prince���s, his face falling still. You extend your hand toward his chin and he almost flinches when your fingers brush the sensitive skin underneath, two of your fingers angling his face high up. His nose points out confidently at this angle, “Shall I say this, then, Eunwoo?” When you drop the “your highness”, you drown him in a sea of sobriety. He nods, entranced by what you’ll say next.

“You and Minhyuk are no different. You and any village boy in this kingdom are no different. You must stop looking at your life from such a negative point of view, always worried about what people will have to say about you, always worried about not looking humble enough or not performing at your most likable. You have been placed in a position from birth that would drive any twenty-one year old mad. You’re doing a great job; don’t belittle yourself so much.” You release his chin and smile when he keeps his head high, just where you left it. “You look so handsome when you have no worries.”

Eunwoo, by instinct, drops his chin toward his chest and flushes. Eliatha huffs a humorous breath at Eunwoo’s back when he does.

As if remembering where he is, Eunwoo looks at Eliatha in surprise before turning back to you, “Would you like to get out of here?”

You practically melt with content, “Yes, please and thank you.”

However, to your confusion and then mild horror, Eunwoo walks over to the set of reins hanging on the far west wall. He pulls down the one sized specifically for Eliatha and then comes back to the sweet dragon who is now bursting with energy at the thought of being ridden for the first time in so long. You immediately freeze when he starts to set up two saddles along Eliatha’s back. “Wait-” “Just a quick lap around the kingdom, ok? Maybe take a detour to that hill we used to go to when we were younger?”

“I didn’t agree to this, Eunwoo!” You push yourself off the ground as Eliatha begins moving out of her stall, stretching her claws mere feet in front of you in preparation for flight.

Eunwoo is already hoisting himself up onto the dragon’s back, grinning at you over her long neck, “Would you rather I go alone and disappear into the forest forever, you being the last witness and therefore responsible for my mysterious vanishing? Eliatha hasn’t been ridden in years, after all... anything could happen.”

“Are you... are you threatening me, your highness?” You stare up at him with arms folded in disbelief. Sure enough, he’s completely serious.

He lightly taps his heels against Eliatha’s sides and she begins to trudge forward, practically nudging you out of the way. In the same step, you feel your arm being tugged upward and suddenly your falling across Eunwoo’s lap, halfway on the dragon and halfway off, the front saddle just waiting for you to slip into. Eunwoo grins down at you with reins in one hand, the other wrapped tightly around your bicep, “Does that seem like the behavior of one of the most wonderful brats you know?”

Your kidnapping ride to the hill was, thankfully, not as dangerous as Eunwoo had tried to make it out to be in the beginning. Eliatha flew just as smoothly as she did always (except for the cherry tree incidents but those were in the past), and you were at the hillside in no time, propped up against the short, soft grass next to Eunwoo. The dragon had taken her perch at the very top of the hill for a well-needed nap which meant that there was no bribing the sleepy dragon to take you home any time soon.

The afternoon was cool, but the sunshine provided a warmth to both your skin that made you feel as cozy as Eliatha probably did. It had been so long since the two of you had escaped out of the kingdom for a heart-to-heart, so it was no surprise that the both of you began spilling your grievances and tales of mirth to each other without much prodding. You knew that moments like these would be few and far between from this point on, so you both knew, deep down, to get the most out of it.

It was also, to Eunwoo’s embarrassment at forgetting, still his birthday.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” He tries to protest, but his eyes are locked on the midnight velvet pouch that you slip out of your pants pocket. He can hear small metal clinking inside as you shake it. His curiosity knows no bounds as he immediately abandons his thing about you not having to get him anything, “What is it?”

You smirk, dropping the pouch into one of his upturned hands. You can see the eagerness in the way he works at the tie to the pouch, looking almost frustrated when it doesn’t untie under his miscalculated pulling. Finally, he does get it open, and into his other palm does he empty the contents of the pouch into.

Two metal bands, fused gold and silver like marble, lay in his grasp. He looks from them to you, suspicious.

“This is something I had Myungjun cook up for me. It was so hard to get him to keep it secret from you,” you grin at the thought of the eccentric court mage, “these... are rings. One for me, one for you. Do you like them?” You take one ring and slip it onto your pinky finger as the metal instantly resizes to fit it comfortably. You wiggle your hand in Eunwoo’s face as he tries to understand what your gift actually is.

“Yes, they’re perfect, but... they look like wedding bands.” Eunwoo murmurs, and you fluster. My god do you need to explain these quick.

“T-They’re not! They’re for your pinky, see? You wear one and I wear the other, and if you’re ever in trouble, just rub the surface and I’ll find you.” You demonstrate by shakily slipping the other ring onto his pinky, and with the aftermath of his wedding bands comment from earlier, this moment feels all too much like a secret wedding in the wild from those ridiculous romance novels you’d find being sold in town.

You then touch the surface of your own ring and rub back and forth. At once, Eunwoo looks like he’s been shocked, though you know the feeling is only a noticeable tingle running from his finger up to his heart. “Oh my god,” he whispers, “this is...”

“I figured that I’d get you something practical. There will be times that we’ll be stuck in meetings you want to get out of or conversations with stuffy lords and ladies that you’ll want to run away from, so whenever that feeling arises, just rub the ring and I’ll come swoop in to save the day.” You explain, watching the childlike wonder on his face grow. “And... if you’re ever in a situation with a suitor who just won’t get the hint, I can always make up some serious princely matter for you to attend to right at that moment: an absolutely unavoidable matter that includes stolen sweets from the kitchen on our way to anywhere else.”

“So you’re always there when I need you.” Eunwoo whispers, still staring at the ring in awe.

You swallow, the action feeling somewhat tough to do in his presence all of a sudden. Right when you’re about to add on how Myungjun had begged to add a snooping feature too (including a voice recorder that would give you the chance to listen in on any of Eunwoo’s private conversations. When you asked why you would possibly ever need that, Myungjun had flushed a thousand shades of pink and answered “no reason!”), Eunwoo looks up at you.

Expression full of gratitude. Expression full of... something else.

“And I’m always right where you need me.” He continues, holding the hand with the ring on it close to his chest.

Even when you’ll no longer need me like you used to, you think.

Even when I’m standing in a room full of people who want me for their own, yet all I can think of is being yours, he thinks.

You both don’t say anything else, though; you press your backs against the earth once more, fiddling with the rings on your pinkies, vibrations running up your sides to remind you that you both are never quite out of reach physically... but maybe in another sense.