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pure-kirarin · 4 years ago

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The rose left unwatered (Law x f!reader)

Heyo guys ! this is my first multi part fanfiction and I hope that you will all like it =w=. No TW for now apart for coming smut in next chapters~ This was originally a request by @soul-stealer-reaper . Thanks for requesting :) originally you asked for a scenario with rough NSFW where Law has a crush on a girl that the government is afraid of and that has high bounty. As this will have some parts, everything you asked for will come in the next chapters so no worries :’) ! I won’t hide that wrote quite freely tho, I hope that it’s fine. Synopsis : You have felt unwanted for so long that you forgot the last time you felt like you belonged. Quite paradoxical, when you are one of the most wanted “criminals” in the new world. You cross paths with Law after joining the strawhats at Fishman Island to “kill some time” and you both feel a weird connection from the moment your eyes met, curiosity, hatred or desire, did it really matter as long as feelings were involved ? ---------------------------

A rose left unwatered will wither, A heart left unloved will rot, A sweet dream left untouched will go bitter, A love left unspoken will be forgot. Nemo - Murder in Venice

The first time that Law saw you, he found you extremely annoying. He remembered that he saw your wanted poster somewhere, with one of the highest bounties that he has ever seen. Seeing such a high bounty made him raise an eyebrow at first, what could you have done to have the whole world on your back ? The second thought that came to his mind was that of detachement, then he flinched at that thought.

The first time that Law saw you in person was after his Allience with the strawhats. You stayed at the ship the whole time, you didn't even bother to follow others to punk Hazard or to help them with their plans. He thought that you were an extremely selfish person and you reminded him of the person that he hated most. That way you had of doing what you wanted without caring about others, the smirk you had on your lips at all times, never submitting, always acting so sure of yourself, it irritated him.

How could someone get such a strong reaction out of him ? He didn't even know, he always eyed you from afar and it was enough to know that you prfoundly, passionately got on his nerves.

You joined the strawhats in the Fishmen Island, finding your way to them and just asking to join. Luffy's simplistic demeanor meant that he accepted right away, not caring about who you were and not flinching at your high bounty.

You made it clear that you were just staying to be entertained, in fact, you didn't want to fight, you didn't want to help anyone, your curiosity was just peaked by Luffy, by that man that defied the world government, by that man that defied everyone at Marineford. You weren't impressed, but you just felt sympathy towards him and wanted to find some company.

You found what you were looking for, in fact, life with the strawhats was enjoyable, you didn't get along with Usopp or Nami. The former thought that you were « too scary » and would kill them in their sleep, the latter hated how little you were willing to cooperate.

You had your own reason, but nobody on that ship was able to grasp your personnality, you just had your own way of thinking, your own internal logic that nobody seemed to get. Who were you ? Why were you there and why was the whole world on your back ? All these questions were provoking Law, teasing him endlessly. His curiosity was growing day after day and you were always there, on a lounge chair enjoying the burn of the sun on your skin, not caring about anything else, not caring about him, not that he cared...did he ? You got on his nerves just by being there, he felt obseverd yet, he wasn't the kind of people to get flustered but your gaze was so intense, feline.

It was a soft night on the sunny, a few days before getting to Dressrosa. On this night, the strawhats decided to gather around after dinner like always. They enjoyed socializing and spending time together, telling stories and playing silly games. It was quite late so Momo was already sleeping. Everyone was on the deck enjoying some drinks and you were on the crow's nest, peaceful.

« Y/N-chaaawn~ » Screamed Sanji, making you look down. « Come have some fun with us, don't stay there on your own ! »

« - Yeah Y/N ! We're all having fun here. » Said Luffy.

You jumped gracefully from the crow's nest just like a cat. You then looked around circularly before taking place between Law and Robin as she silently made some space for you. The atmosphere was light and everyone was enjoying themselves. Zoro was drinking bottle after bottle as Sanji was screaming at him. Usopp was telling you all for the tenth time about how he took down a sea king with his little finger and Luffy and Chopper were captivated by how cool that was.

You were just silently enjoying that sense of peace till Nami asked you out of nowhere

« Oh true Y/N, I actually never asked but I am curious, why is your bounty so high ? What have you done ? »

For a second your expression changed and everyone's eyes were on you. You just decided to tell them some kind of lie and you said that you killed a celestial dragon. Everyone looked at you in awe, killing a celestial dragon means that you had to escape from admirals. You excused yourself then saying you were tired, therefore going to sleep.

After hours of partying Strawhats went to sleep. You got out of the girl's quarter wearing only a night gown. Your thoughts were waltzing since earlier's events and you were looking melancolically at the ocean. The sound of the waves was so calming, you got close to the board of the sunny, placing your elbows on the wooden surface. You didn't notice it when Law came your way, he wasn't sleeping either, his sleeping schedule was always herractic. He was still intrigued by the lie you told earlier and by your overall attitude, something about you drew him towards you like a magnet.

-(Y/N)-ya...You didn't kill a celestial dragon, did you?

His voice was low and hoarse, stealing a murmur out of your lips. Your eyes met his, gray, icy. It was the first time he said your name outloud, actually, you briefly ever interacted since he got on this ship.

-Trafalgar ?..

You were wondering why did he bring this up, he never ever showed interest in you and you in him. In fact, now that you looked at him more in detail, you could say that he was an exceptionally handsome male with soft dark hair and a gloomy but all the more seductive cast of demeanor.

He could obtain any female he wanted at a snap of his fingers. You looked away and added :

-I thought that you disliked me. Why do you even ask ?

He raised an eyebrow, but got back to his stoic expression almost immediatly. He didn't know that it showed. However, you were wrong, he was starting to get intrigued by you, by your high bounty, by the detached way you acted. He was usually the one to observe and analyse people, but something about you...He couldn't put a finger on.

-I don't like lies.

-I have my own reasons...I'm sure there are a lot of things that you want to keep secret.

You hesitated then looked his side. He seemed calm still and just shrugged, ready to go back to his spot but then you added ;

-I lied because I didn't want to involve anyone in this...When I was just a child, I was a part of a dozen kids that were selected to take part into a « government experiment »...I don't want to go into details but...you clenched your fist, eyes fixed on an imaginary point in front of you I am the only survivor of that experiment...Therefore I'm being tracked... We were given power...To this day I don't know its extent...But I know that with just a blow of my fingers I could...you gasped How could a child be granted such a power ? Why did they have to choose for me ? I didn't want any of this....I never wanted to fight, I don't want to fight. I just wanted to be normal, to have a family, to feel wanted...haha...your laugh was bitter I mean, I know that I am the most wanted person you probably met, but I didn't mean it in that way. I hope that this satisfies your curiosity, Trafalgar Law.

Your eyes met, he looked in them, deep, searching for traces of honesty. You were telling the truth, there wasn't a doubt. He liked the way his name sounded out of your lips, it was the first time that he heard these three letters murmured by you. It's as if his first name sounded different, you had that way of saying it, almost like a whisper. You looked so vulnerable in your nightgown, so fragile despite your usual arrogant carapace. The fiery tigress looked like a sweet kitten and he was surprised by the way he just wanted to reassure you. He brushed that thought quickly and added, stoic ;

-I see, why did you tell me ?

-You just asked me to, no ? I just felt like we were a bit alike...Ah. Also, quit asking me questions....This is starting to feel like a doctor examination...Now it's my turn to ask. Why do you even care ? I didn't think that the surgeon of death was such a curious person.

He scratched his chin, hesitating for a second, but then he just said bluntly ;

-The first time I saw you, I thought that you were extremely annoying.

- Ah ? you looked at him with a straight face, but still a bit offended If we're playing first impressions then...

-But I get it now.

He wasn't annoyed, in fact, he was just fascinated. It wasn't animosity that he felt but desire to know more about you. It wasn't that he was making sure that you're not endangering anyone, he wanted to look at you, it was just excuses upon excuses, rationalization for a case of irrational fascination. Now that the diagnostic was there, he could understand his emotions more clearly.

-You are talking in riddles but well...Whatever...Why did you form an alliance with Luffy by the way ? I wonder how you're able to handle all of his energy if you can't even stand mine haha.

-Let me correct you ; I don't hate you. He stops for a moment then he adds. There is a man that I would like to kill.

You turn now, back against the wooden border of the ship. You had an amused look on your face, wondering who was that man that he wanted to take down ;

-Now that's interesting ! Let me guess, who is it ?

-You are quite curious yourself, (Y/N)-ya...

He thought it was only fair, you opened up to him, he opened up to you, but telling you the details wasn't for now.

-So you are using the strawhats ?

-I am not sure who is using who. And what is your reason for joing the strawhats ?

-Luffy, you said with dreamy eyes, it's the D in his name...I have been drawn to people with this letter in their names like a magnet...I don't know...I just believe it's fate...

He was startled by your answer, so you knew about the « D » letter ? He also had this letter in his name...He just added then, with a face that didn't betray his surprise ;

-Oh , a girl like you believes in such romantic stories ?

-And what is a girl like me like ? You added, amused. I mean, apart from annoying.

-...Quit it already.

His tone was stable as always. He didn't show it but he thought that it was cute of you, how you insisted and played along. You faced him, your eyes looking right into his and you weren't one to look down, oh no. Irisis into his irisis, looking for him and digging something into him. He didn't even know what you meant by such a look, once again, feline.

The salty smell of the ocean's water mixed with the odor of your fruity perfume made that moment a bit more enjoyable and he wasn't even the type of person to enjoy chatting.

Check mate, you made up for that horrible first impression. You added then ;

-You avoided my question by the way, why wouldn't I believe in « such romantic stories » ? What do you think you know about « a girl like me » ?

You got a bit closer, amused, and he thought that it was getting a bit dangerous. You had a fake woeful look in your eyes. His limbs were filled to the brim with that ocean perfume of yours mixed with that sweet taste, and for a second it was as if that odor operated some kind of spell over him, because a surprising thought occured to his mind ; what would your lips taste like ? Certainly salty like the ocean and a tad like peaches.

Unsettled and unfocused he said ;

-Shouldn't you be sleeping ?

In reality, he didn't want these thoughts to make a nest out of his head and decided to cut the conversation quite abruptly. Your rocked your body back, almost like a child and rose your eyebrows in a semi-sarcastic semi-dramatic way.

-I'm a bit too old for a bed time don't you think, Trafalgar ?

-Just Law.

-Yes yes ! L-a-w...See you tomorrow ! You're not as uptight as I thought.

-(Y/N)-ya.

He just said your name in a strict way, probably indicating that you needed to go. His tone was firm, stop teasing already.

You looked at him with a diminishing smile, pronouncing every single letter so slowly, stretching his name on your lips so that these three tiny letters seemed endless. You tossed your hair, and something about the whole situation, about your feminine charm, something about the breeze of the night made the both of you feel unbearable tension. The type of tension that happens between a man and a woman at three in the morning, that tension that makes every little detail, every look in the eyes, every brush of the fingers feel indecent.

The eyes of a woman can't lie, his ego was stroked as he thought he had a glimpse of your hidden desire.You turned to go back to the girl's quarters, his eyes still hanged on your silhouette. ----------- I hope that you liked this first part. Please tell me what you think. It is a great motivator to know that I’m writing and being read. <3 I wish you all a nice day !

#law x reader #law #trafalgar law #onepiece imagines #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #Trafalgar law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #onepiece x reader

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siriushxney · 3 years ago

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: ̗̀➛ searing light | chapter two

— pairing ; darkling!dream x sun summoner!reader

— au ; shadow & bone

— wordcount ; 2.6k

— warnings ; fire, reader gets pushed around, rude soldiers/commanders

— note ; welcome to chapter two of searing light! I actually really enjoyed writing this part and coming up with how to twist the original story in my own little way — I hope you enjoy!

previous | next

when the moon was high and the sound around you was minimal, thoughts flowed easier — flowed into the streams of what if’s and premature regret and mourning. whatever happened the next day would either be a successful day — one to be celebrated with a feast unlike any other, or it would be another tick carved into the wood, next to the dozens of them that already were scratched in. you were sure that even those numbers were off, for when a certain number was reached without success, people started to lose faith.

this skiff however was designed for greatness — made by the hands of the second army, reinforced with grisha steel and said to be lighter — faster.

something wasn’t right.

if there is one thing that you had learned through your tough life growing up in ravka, it was that when your gut told you something — you trusted it. if your gut told you to avoid someone, you avoided them; if it told you to take a different path, you took the next path over; if it told you that no matter what anyone said, something was going to happen — you had to do something to stop it.

if not for yourself, for wilbur.

—

when the sun rose, and your boots were laced tightly — you made your way to the tent full of maps, careful to make sure your superiors were nowhere to be seen. the lot of them were seated in the food tent as they discussed today's trip and how long they thought it would last in the fold.

they had no shame when it came to talking about the failure of the second army when it came to this, and had even less shame when talking about the lives of their own people being lost. if ravka didn’t lose the war from the raging countries surrounding it, the fold was guaranteed to do the job for them.

walking into the tent that looked the exact same as it always did, despite being situated in a different part of ravka that you were used to. there were maps of different sizes displayed and thrown about, a rough and stained carpet laid on the grass and uncomfortable benches that you had known all too well pushed underneath tables.

quick feet brought you to stand in front of a cabinet which held map’s upon map’s — some of this part of ravka, and some of the ravka on the other side of the fold. the ravka that people on that side referred to as west ravka.

free from the royal blood on ravka’s soil that sat stuck behind the black barrier, west ravka sought out to become their own standing country — a hope that the fold would vanish, no longer clouded their minds. only the thought of independence and selfishness flowed through them.

“where are you…?” your tongue poked slightly out of the side of your mouth as you sited through the heap of yellow tinted paper, hoping to find anything and everything you could on what laid on the other side of the black wall.

beyond the fold - ravka

“aha,” the text at the top of the map caught your eyes. sifting through the numerous ones below it, you confirmed that you had found what you had come looking for. taking the maps in hand, making sure each was rolled up tightly so you could fit as many as you could into the small space, you rushed over to the trash bin in the corner.

with a look around the tent, and several peaks over your shoulders, you pulled out the box that weighed heavily in your pocket, despite weighing nothing compared to what you were used to carrying around.

what you were about to do would either get you a one way ticket to see the generals or aboard the skiff — either or, you could end up dead as a result.

a sharp flick of your wrist, a spark, and a light flowed from the tip of the match — the wood below it becoming charred as the flame ate at the wood with every second it burned bright. with one last look at the fully pieced together maps, and your ticket onto the skiff — you let the match fall — turning your back to it immediately, and not wasting any time as you fled the scene.

the sight of smoke wafting from the top of the tent, group’s of gasps and hurried feet rushing to it sounding from behind you.

blue eyes watching as you paced away hurriedly.

—

“well I don’t know what we're going to do.”

“we have to do something!”

“you think I don’t know that?!”

“we need to re-draw all those maps or the general will have our heads-“

“excuse me?” heads snapped in your direction, all your superiors looking at you with harsh eyes and deep frowns.

“what?”

you held back the scowl that wanted to cross your face at the women's tone, but for the sake of winning them over, you held yourself back. “If I may, I volunteer to go through the fold,” they looked at you with wide eyes. “i’ll re-draw everything-“

“you’re merely one mapmaker with thousands of miles to cover — we need more than one cartographer,” the woman shook her head as she looked down, her words directed at her fellow generals.

the other general thought, his eyes darting between you and the woman. “you’ll board the skiff shortly — alongside the rest of your squadron,” you fought to keep the look of shock off your face. “alert your tent of the decision immediately, you are dismissed.”

“sir, with all due respect-“

“you are dismissed soldier, that is an order.”

you couldn't fight orders — with a small nod and downcasted eyes, you shuffled your way back to your tent full of guilt and mind racing with second thoughts. all you wanted to do was get onto the skiff alongside wilbur, just you and youself alone — but in the process of doing so and with a selfish decision on your part, you had just put people who you had spent the last few years with in jeopardy.

it wasn't your intention at all.

lifting the flap of material that acted as a makeshift door to the tent, you walked in quietly, unsure of when to break the news or even how to start.

carey, a boy that you had gotten to know well over the years and someone who you considered to be one of your only friends alongside wilbur, stood at your arrival. his smile was bright and large.

“hey Y/N, do you wanna go for a walk? maybe watch the send-off together-”

“we have to board the skiff.”

heads around the tent shot up at your words, some eyes of questioning and confusion, others full of fear or anger.

luna shot up and paced to you hastily, giving you no time to react or prepare yourself as she grabbed you by the lapels of your uniform and swung you around so your backside was against the table.

with the force that she had shoved you into the hard wood, utensils and paper had gone flying — and your hands found purchase on the rough and spilled wood as you tried to steady yourself — jagged and pointed pieces pricking your skin.

“what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything-” you tried to pry her hands off of your uniform, but the sheer power she had was nothing you could fight with.

she was like a mouse who could kick a cats ass.

“luna let them go-”

“can it carey! they aren't into you so why don’t you just mind your own business and find someone else to fawn over,” it was no secret the boy had a crush on you — but in the heat of war and the constant fear for your life, there was no room for him or anyone else.

her fists still gripped your jacket harshly — your body jerking with every movement she made. “now, tell me what you did to get us all on that death trap, or saints help me-”

“whats going on here?” luna’s head had snapped over immediately, her hair whipping behind, and her hands disappearing just as fast as she turned.

tilting your head to the side, the first thing you noticed was the colour that stuck out like a sore thumb in the tent — bright purple. eyes trailing up the figure, you next noted the blonde hair that was draped over their shoulders. and lastly, the blue eyes that could hypnotize anybody they were simply batted at.

it was the grisha that you had made eye contact with a few days prior.

“nothing-” the grisha sent one look to luna and the girl immediately quieted.

“are you okay?” the grisha questioned you suddenly — the harsh look that once covered her face now melted into something more sincere — more concerned.

you pushed yourself up from your uncomfortable position that luna had managed to bend you in over the table, carey’s hands helping you in any way he could despite being brushed off. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern,” you stepped away from luna hesitantly — unsure of what the girl would do with her eyes still holding a deadly intent.

“I was sent here to lead you to the skiff — the group of you are running behind,” the girl mainly spoke to you, her eyes wandering as she spoke however. “I’d advise you to get your materials and get to the skiff immediately — anybody found at the camp who should be on the skiff will be punished.”

carey rushed to collect his things as soon as the words were muttered, luna trailing behind stubbornly, only leaving behind a glare directed at you, before her back was fully turned.

with the bag on your hip containing everything that you had needed, you made a move to exit the tent — the grisha following behind you immediately.

“you know I do have to ask — what were you thinking?” she asked as soon as the two of you had exited the tent.

“excuse me?”

“you exited a tent that had smoke pouring out of it, and didn't bat an eye when panic washed over everyone — I wanna know what you were thinking setting whatever was in there on fire-” you hand gripped her kefta quickly, your eyes wide and mouth opened in shock.

“be quiet would you?! I’ll explain everything if you just keep your voice down,” her eyes didn't meet your own, only observing your hand that wrinkled the tough purple fabric on her arm. you released it immediately with a short and quiet apology.

the blue eyed grisha looked up to you, to the skiff, and back to you — her eyes holding a glimmer of amusement. “I know you did it, and I have a feeling I know why you did it too — your lover boy is on the skiff.”

lover boy?

looking at the skiff, you could see wilbur, plain as day, looking at the two of you with confusion — or more to say confusion towards the grisha stood by your side, and anger towards you and your appearance.

“I don’t have a lover boy.”

“the tall curly haired one — it’s not hard to tell.”

you grimaced at that. you and wilbur were nothing more than friends, siblings to say the least — raised at the hip with minds so alike it was scary.

“that so-called ‘lover boy’ you speak of is wilbur, and I can guarantee there's nothing going on there.”

the grisha hummed quietly, her eyes bouncing between the two of you before finally sighing. “If you say so,” she offered you her hand. “I’m niki.”

as you went to introduce yourself, the harsh call of your name interrupted you — wilbur yelled your name as he dodged and squirmed his way through the crowd of people who made a move to board the skiff. you turned back to niki with a bashful smile.

“why am I being told that you're crossing the fold?” wilbur distanced himself from niki — unsure and untrusting of anyone who was gifted in the small science.

“because I am?”

“no you’re not.”

“yes they are.”

you knew wilbur wanted to snap back at the girl with a ‘I wasn't talking to you’ card, but the coat that adorned her body stopped him in his tracks. he had told you once before when the two of you passed a group of grisha women at your old camp that “grisha women were scarier then grisha themselves.”

wilbur was scared of the grisha in front of you.

“yes I am, and you can’t do anything about it,” you tried to bring the atmosphere to somewhere different — wilburs eyes coming back to you instead of the offput stare he was once giving niki.

“all aboard! skiff is leaving in t-minus two minutes!”

“well, that's our que,” niki gripped both your sleeve, and wilbur’s and dragged you to the bridge that led up onto the skiff. bodies rushing up, and some attempting to rush down — hands dragged them back on.

some people were in a frenzy to get off the skiff, while some stood stiffly looking out into what they were about to enter — eyes holding nothing more than fear and questioning.

questioning if they would return.

“you have nothing to fear, I promise — the new skiff was built by my colleagues and me. it was built to go faster,” niki spoke, her hand laying gently on your shoulder as she guided you and wilbur to stand on the side of the deck. “all you need to remember is to stay quiet, don’t light any lanterns, and most importantly — keep your head down.”

the squeak of the bridge’s hinges echoed throughout the skiff — the wood and steel alike being pulled up to close the entry and exit point. there was no way off unless you made a jump.

in less than a moment after the bang sounded from the bridge closing entirely, your body was jerked into niki’s — her hand coming to steady you, much like she did with wilbur as he swayed slightly.

every second you inched closer and closer to the fold, the unwelcoming and crip air nipped at your nose, ears, and cheeks — the sound of screeching and echoing howls the monstrosities that lived within let out, made your knee’s feel as if they would give out any minute.

being on the outside had been scary enough — but going in, head first was unimaginably more horrific. no nightmare or intrusive thought could have prepared you for what you were about to enter.

what you were about to experience.

the grisha and first army soldiers alike that stood near the front of the skiff disappeared into the black smoke when the skiff had finally breached the darkness, and second by second, that darkness had grown closer to you.

with her hands on your shoulder blades, and your wrist held tightly by wilbur — you took a deep breath.

the light disappeared and the air grew thick — breathing needing more forces, and your head beginning to pound due to the pressure drop.

you were in the fold, and there was no turning back.

—

crowds of soldiers and grisha gathered on the dock, watching as the skiff was engulfed by the black smoke — whispers of worry, reassurance, and mourning echoed about. they would wait for the news of the skiff not returning, or they would wait for a skiff full of allies and friends to return — goods in hand and smiles on their faces.

but he didn’t pay mind to any of them.

he stood tall against the harsh wind — the black cloak and kefta flowing with it, and hair blowing wildly. his eyes never leaving where the skiff had entered.

“general, the first army’s headman would like to speak with you before you leave for the little palace.”

“of course, tell him to meet me in my tent,” the grisha hummed in response and turned to relay the message to the leader of the first army. “oh and sapnap?”

“yes general?”

“tell george to keep his eye on the fold — I have a good feeling about this trip.”

if only he knew what would unfold inside of the darkness only miles ahead of him.

— authors note ; I didn’t want to put this at the start as to not spoil the meeting of a character, but I wanted to clarify that niki and wilbur are not love interests. strictly platonic. the dynamic will remain there however!

— taglist ; open

@dreamslittlebitch //

#🖇.dreamwastaken #searing light #sirius.request #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dream smp fanfiction #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x reader #dream imagine

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sp00kworm · 4 years ago

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Under the Old Oak (The Lord of Darkness x Reader)

Pairing: The Lord of Darkness x Reader

Warnings: Adult Content

---

The forest was vast in the Kingdom. The Princess had her champion, even if he was not truly hers, and the realm was restored to peace and warmth. The winter, however, still arrived, though it was not as brutal as it once was. The snow was light, and the air was bitter, but no gales battered the lands. It was almost a peaceful winter. You’d spent the winter mornings breathing the cold air, wandering the woodlands in search of foxes and squirrels as you scribbled ditties into the journal. Music was perhaps the only joy you had anymore, and even Princess Lili was amused by the folk tales. The winter, however, was gone, and so spring had overtaken the trees, bursting forth bluebells heavy with flowers and delicate snowdrops which swayed in the breeze. The trees were bursting with new buds of growth, light, new green leaves bursting from curled up shells, but there was not yet enough of them to block the sun and create a canopy. You let out a breath of warm air into the cool morning and watched it drift away into the trees before you avoided a fairy circle of toadstools and tutted.

“You are mischievous and rude.” You uttered to the giggling sprites which had laid the trap on the route they knew you took every morning, “And to think I bring you cakes!” You teased as you threw your lunch muffin in the air.

The sprites gasped and darted for the muffin, their sparkly magic light glowing as they each took a sniff and a nibble at the candied fruit decorating the top, “It was a joke!” They giggled as they dragged away the muffin into their mossy homes, “Thank you!” They jeered together as crumbs fell into your hair. You brushed the mess out of your hair before continuing down the mossy path, bouncing around the poisonous toadstools and circles of stones before you reached the stream. It was shallow with the lack of rainfall yet, and you hopped along the deep-set stones, wetting your boots as you went across to reach the soggy bank on the other side. The mud slapped against your boots and you laughed as you headed towards the old oak tree. It sat away from the bank; its roots protected from the constant onslaught of water which would cause it to rot in the silty dirt. With a sigh, you tugged your scarf tighter and sat back against the mossy bed at the base, breathing in the fresh air as the stream trickled on in the background.

After a few more moments of peace, you reached for your satchel and pulled free your journal from the leather bag with your pencil. Your hand harp came out next and you undid the cloth around it to play a little tune, filling the air with a simple set of scaling notes to check the tuning of the instrument. With a twist of one string, it was into the correct range and you opened your notes to look at the new song you have been working on. It was an old ditty, something that your grandmother had sung you as a child before she passed, and you were determined to rewrite the lyrics for the new legend. The old one was a sad tale, of the darkness being born and spreading sadness throughout the land, but you figured the new tale should be something joyful, with an ending that reflected the new era of light that had been bestowed on the world.

“What have I written?” You asked yourself as you opened the page the song was scrawled on, barely able to read your own writing half of the time. With a squint, you started to pluck at the strings, softly, letting the notes gently hang in the air as you opened your mouth to hum the words quietly.

“Under the old oak tree, boughs cast shadows of dark and silt.” You swayed softly, “In the shadow sits eyes of glittering green, watching a maiden of white and snow.” The harp sung with you as you gently continued into the old verse and rolled the words around in your mouth, thinking about how to change them.

“Darkness, temptress, wanted one true love. The Maiden’s honour was not his to tempt, and hero slayed him with the sword.” A couple of sprites listened quietly in the branches over your head before glittering and dashing down into the water to pluck at the new water clovers growing in the silt. With a hum and a flourish, you continued, “The fairest maid denied his request, leaving him in shadows and dust, only for her handsome champion, to part ways when the sun rose up.”

A rabbit snuffled at your boot as you continued, “Daylight blinds her heart, when demons sit afar.” With a soft whistle you continued on, tapping your foot to the beat as you blended into a soft, harp solo and finished with a gentle smile. The rabbit sat quietly, chewing on bluebells before it twitched, its eyes wide with fright as its ears flicked. It twitched again before bolting for the trees and its warren. You jumped with fright as a fox tore past you, hot on the creature’s tail, its teeth snatching at the cotton tail of the rabbit. With a gasp you looked away as the fox caught it by the back legs and tried to ignore the scuffle as it continued into the grass and plants away from you. There was a rush of fur and you looked on sadly as the fox carted its kill past you, dripping with blood. There were squeals in the brush and you tried to take solace in the fact that the mother was feeding her new pups.

Silence stretched out as you scribbled in the notebook, singing soft lines as the air grew warmer and warmer around you, stretching past midday. A few sprites came along to sit on your harp as you continued to sing about the end of the Darkness.

“Darkness sleeps in hearts of man, cruelty and hate combined he thrives.” You whispered, “Yet light blinds and he sleeps he sleeps.”

“A beautiful ditty.” A voice rumbled from behind you, “In details, however, it is wrong.” A beautiful timbre caressed your ears, deep and filled with wisdom of a thousand ages.

You clutched your handheld harp close and looked around the clearing, “Who are you? Where are you hiding?”

“Nowhere. I do not hide. You are sat in the shadows.” The voice purred, “Here I am.”

You flinched as you peered at the long shadows of midday, “The shadows? No creature is shadow.”

“I am no creature.” It purred, “I am the shadows. I am the darkness you are sat in.” It promised, “Can you not see me?”

You looked at the floor and then peered hard at the shadows of the roots before two burning green eyes appeared in the darkness followed by a great smile, pointed fangs snapping before the smile melted away again.

“I am weak here, but I listened to your song. I heard you speak of me, sweetest thing.” The green eyes burned as they watched you.

“Why are you listening?” You asked, fear clutching at your heart, “I’m singing a song of what happened.”

“And your song is beautiful. You speak of the Darkness. I am he.” The Darkness purred as though his mouth was pressed to your ear.

“The Darkness is dead and gone. He was destroyed.” You whispered to the green eyes, “Everyone knows he is dead.”

“Dead?” The creature laughed, “Darkness cannot die, for the folly of man is where I reside. Every human is cruel and foul, and so I will never see an end.” He promised with another hiss, the teeth snapping in the shadows and disappearing once again as he moved along the shadowed roots, peering out from another hole.

“Are you here to goad me…Am I to face the pits of your foul home?” Resolve held your words together as you peered into his burning eyes.

A great, deep chuckle resounded in your ears, and you felt the exhale against the hairs on the back of your neck. He laughed again at your shivering.

“Do you think me a liar? I have told you. I heard your song and came here to listen closer.” A black talon peaked from the shadow before curling back into the darkness.

“Isn’t lying your speciality, oh Lord of Sin.” You spat as you took a step back towards the sunlight.

“Lying? It is a sin, but I do not lie. Witches have pacts with me, I do not lie to them about power. I did not lie to the oh so fair maiden in your tale. She was to be mine. If she did that, she would have been a Queen.” He hissed from the shadows, “Do not twist my words, mortal. I too was lied to in that story.”

“Did you not deserve it? You corrupt the innocent and wanted permanent darkness and death. Those are hardly good things.” You took another step towards the light and the Darkness hissed at you with scorn.

“Think of another tale to sing. Your telling of mine is foul.” The eyes receded back into the shadowed roots before glowing, then disappearing, as the creature closed his eyes. There was silence. You rushed into the sunlight and peered around the clearing as you tried to catch a glimpse of the green eyes burning in the shadows. You rushed back for your harp and bag before making sure to run into the trees and back towards the town.

It got warmer as the week progressed, the leaves on the trees were beginning to unfurl properly and soak up the warming rays of the new sun. After a week you dared to enter the woods again, taking the same path you always did, jumping toadstools until you reached the base of the sprites’ tree.

“I brought you a biscuit.” You offered up into the branches, “They’re lavender and honey, you said you all liked that last time.”

The sprites chittered before taking the biscuit from your fingers and letting crumbs fall into your hair. You brushed at the crumbs and smiled.

“Have you felt anything weird lately?” You asked, “Anything untoward?”

The sprites paused in their eating to look at you confusedly, their little pointed faces confused, “We sense all manner of things. Black and white, light and dark. All are normal in our woods.” One sang before another grinned and tugged at your ear, “White as the unicorn, black as pitch. All is the same to the Fae.” She giggled and the rest sang a soft little rhyme about the fox and the hare.

“You’re all so useless sometimes.” You sighed.

The sprites paused in their dances, “We told you the answer. No lies we speak.” They sang again as they took the food and disappeared back into the moss and birdhouses.

You huffed at the branches, “Useless Fae and their riddles.” You kicked a pebble into the small stream as you slowly moved across the steppingstones.

The water had made new pond weed and sludge grow over the steps and you yelped as your boot slipped and landed in the stream, filling with icy cold water.

“Oh, by the Gods!” You cursed as you hopped along the rest of the stones. When you reached the bank, you hopped a little further, into the dryer dirt before standing on a great pile of moss and upturning your boot. Water splatted onto the dirt and you huffed again as you hopped to the oak and tucked your boot against the trunk along with your other, hoping the warmer air would dry the inside of it.

As usual, you opened your bag and plucked your hand harp from inside the fold, unwrapping the cloth from it carefully before listening to its gentle noise. The soft plucking of the strings rose up into the canopy and you smiled at the noise you had always loved. Your grandmother was the finest harpist you had ever met, and you wished you had her level of skill as you plucked at the notes for the song she had first sung to you as a babe.

“Darkness see the Light, on the break of day. Season turn cold to warm, with her never ending sway. Once the dawn doth break, the dreams are chased away. Darkness see the Light, on the break of day…” You hummed softly, plucking in a gentle cadence as the sunlight worked through the new green leaves, dappling across your face. Soaking in the glow, you let the song die on your lips as the birds sang high above, hidden in the mass of leaves from predators and prying eyes.

“Such a wonderous song.” A dark voice rang out from behind you. Once more, you startled and peered into the roots beneath the giant tree, “Sweet thing, have you come to sing for me again?” The Darkness purred from the depths, his green, burning eyes morphing into the burning orange flames of fire, “Or do you sing of me again to tarnish my name?” He teased as he raised a single claw before curling it back into the shadows, begging for you to come closer.

Fear curled along your spine, “I don’t sing for anyone. I sing for myself.” You promised as you turned on the moss to see the eyes burning into your skin, looking as though into your soul, “I would not sing of you if it were not the song’s lyrics. I have to play this for the town festival.” The confession ran like water and you covered your mouth with a gasp.

“Lies cannot be spoken to me.” The Darkness chortled, “Your songs are tales. Beautifully woven to enchant even the deafest of ears.” He complimented, “I would like to hear another, if you would be so kind?”

“Why should I play for you?” You asked, spitefully, “You almost ruined the world.”

The Darkness laughed again, “Ruined? I merely changed the order. There is balance in the light and dark, and one day that balance will be mine to destroy. The shadows will have their time once again. It is the order of things.” He observed mildly as you held your hand harp closely, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

“Would you destroy everything to have it?” You asked, curiosity burning away at the anxiety in your gut.

The Darkness hummed, “Perhaps. But perhaps it would be best to turn the humans to my own side.” He grinned, as though a new nefarious plan was forming in his mind, white teeth glittering in the roots of the tree before he spoke again, “Play for me little harpist. One more song, I beg of you. The sound is like nothing I have below.”

“And what is it you have below, Darkness.” You asked as you opened your book.

His smile faded, “Screams and bellows. The sound of the foulest torture. There is some music in my power, but it is not that of…” His mouth moved before he spat the word, “Innocence…or purity. There is little joy in it.”

“You do not lie…do you?” You whispered as the eyes burned.

“Why would I lie about such things?” He spat, “Sing for me, please. Play a song.” There was tiredness in his voice as his mouth disappeared into the blackness of the shadows and dirt.

“I can sing for you.” You nodded gently and sat before the shadowed roots, ignoring the burning orange gaze as you remembered the next line of the song.

“Behold the singing song bird, watch the bubbling stream. Before the dawn breaks, naught can be seen. Dreams of sorrows past, chased by the burning light. No more will they bother you, despite the aching blight. Darkness see the Light, on the break of day.”

The Darkness’ eyes lowered with the song, his gaze low and tired as his claws slid back into the roots, disappearing into the dark chasm of his own shadows.

Your voice came to an end, and you opened your eyes not to see the Lord of Darkness nor his gaze. There was silence as the leaves rustled over your head, flapping against one another as you sat, staring into the roots, wondering where the creature had disappeared to during your tale.

A groggy noise of discontent sounded, “Why did you stop singing, song bird?” He asked, a single eye peering out from the shadows.

With a smile you chuckled, “I thought you had fallen asleep.”

The Darkness smiled, fangs exposed as he laughed, “I was close. Your music is gentle, like a Mother’s song to a babe.” He complimented, “You surely sing for the court?” He asked.

A blush graced your cheeks, “No, I sing for myself.” You reaffirmed, “One day I will maybe share my songs with the world…but not for now.”

The Darkness watched you for a moment, “I could make it happen.” He tempted softly, “There would be no one that didn’t know your name.”

“I won’t fall for your temptation.” You huffed, “I would rather sing and make the children happy than be forced to entertain the King and his finicky court.”

“Then perhaps a world without a King is what you truly desire?” He asked with another purr.

“Don’t twist my words against me. I want nothing from you.” You told him as you laid your harp back in your bag.

The Darkness opened his other eye, “Nothing? After such a graceful performance…” He tutted to himself before he twisted a finger into the dirt and you watched your boots wiggle, as though there were invisible feet within them, “Consider this a small token.”

You watched as your boots marched their way over, under the influence of some sort of magic, before jumping and landing in your lap, cosy, lined with rich fur and utterly bone dry. They shined bright with wax polish and smelled as though they were new.

“I…” You stuttered, “I can’t accept these. They’re made for royalty.” You brushed the fur inside.

“Take them. It is payment for your music and for your craft. Wear them well, little bird.” He purred before you watched his eyes grow tired again, the orange turning green and disappearing into the roots randomly before he hummed and disappeared entirely, “I will see you again.”

“Yes…See you next time.” You whispered as the roots twisted and knotted back into place, the Oak hiding where the creature had once been beneath it, “Maybe I’ll have something new for you.” You pulled on the heavy boots and smiled at the warmth and the fit before rushing back over the stream.

You jumped from the rocks and smiled as you looked back into the trees. The sprites bolted from their homes.

“Darkness clings and darkness takes hold.” They whispered in your ears, hidden along your coat collar, “Temptation is the beginning of sin.” They rushed before ripping through your hair, “Careful little one. Darkness tempts in other ways.”

“What do you mean?” You asked but they disappeared up into their homes, leaving glittering dust behind them. You looked up and listened to the silence of the birds before rushing to make your way home before the darkness decided to set in. The sprites cowered in their moss homes as the night rolled in that night, and the wolves howled beneath their trees.

“Does the bird’s song ever wake you?” The Darkness asked from his shadowed hole, his eyes watching your fingers move over the harp, “You only come to sing as the Sun raises to its highest point.” He observed, “Does someone else occupy your time?” He asked with a hiss.

“No.” You plucked a string particularly forcefully, “I’m busy in the mornings.” You confessed, “I have to cook and clean for myself now.” You felt tears well in your eyes.

“What troubles you?” The Darkness asked, the tips of his claws peaking from the roots.

“My Mother passed.” You confessed, “She was all I had left.” You whispered and the Darkness reached out before recoiling from the sunlight with a howl, forgetting himself as his eyes flared with anger.

“Does her passing not anger you. Such sorrow is ill-fitting. I have heard your song in the night.” There was a flicker of something in the shadows, “Can I not offer you some solace, bird?”

“I want nothing of your tricks, Darkness.” You spat, “I want to remember her in her chair, not as a walking corpse.”

The Darkness recoiled at your spite, “I offer no such thing…Only my company. If you would have it?”

You did not keep your shock to yourself, “Truly? You won’t trick me and drag me away into your hellhole?”

He laughed, “No, sweet thing. Where would the fun in that be?” The creature teased before tugging at your bag, “Sing your sorrows. Soon, your heart will not feel the pain anymore.”

You took hold of your bag and took out your hand harp, tightening one string with a watery smile before you sung late into the afternoon, beginning the process of healing your own heart.

“Will you stay a little longer?” The Darkness asked as the sun reached to dip below the horizon. You’d been visiting for so long that you couldn’t remember the time before you did. Your days creating were much more fun with someone to critique your lyrics.

“It will be night-time soon.” You muttered over the rain which pattered against the Oak’s leaves. You were protected underneath it’s canopy, huddled in your fur, your boots tucked against you as you looked out at the rain. The stream bubbled with fresh new water, rushing harshly against the rocks.

“Night is just the day without light. What troubles you so that you cannot walk in it? There is nothing to harm you in these woods.” He offered, eyes flickering with green jealousy.

“There are wolves and mean sprites at night. Even forgetting that, I can’t find my way back without being able to see where I’m putting my feet.” You joked as the Darkness’ fingers tested the space outside of the roots, his claws curling into his own palm.

“Wolves are not after prey such as you.” The Darkness rebuked, “If I were here, no evil is greater than I. We would be alone, to enjoy the silence.”

You noted the whimsical tone of his statement, “Alone?” You asked gently, “Alone to do what? I have no songs about the night.”

He did not miss the joke, “All I would ask is that you sit, and talk with me.”

The rain hissed as it poured against the trees and greenery. You were both quiet for a moment as you digested his request.

“Perhaps not tonight.” You replied, “I…”

“I do not need an explanation.” The Darkness’ tone was harsh, “I understand that your kindness does not go that far.”

“This is not a kindness. I do not pity you.” Taking a handful of leaves, you began to peel them from their stems.

“If not pity, then why do you still come?” He asked with a snarl, his pointed teeth clenched.

Peeling another leaf apart, you wondered why you still entertained his request, “I suppose that I have come to enjoy your retched company.”

“You flatter me, harpist.” The anger seemed to dissolve from him, “Then why not come, entertain me in flesh, tonight?”

“Not tonight.” You smiled as you stood up, gathering your harp and shaking the sticks from your coat, “I heard there will be a storm soon.”

The Darkness moaned softly in the shadows, “Yes. Such a wonderous event. The fear, the agony and the unrest to the land. A time for my shadows to spread further.” He purred inside the roots before his burning gaze rested on you, “Meet me then, in the thunderstorm, I beg of you, my sweet.” His claws peered from the shadow before receding.

The taste of blood covered your tongue from biting your cheek, “When?”

“The day after next.” He whispered as you dipped your hand into the roots. The cold touch of the shadows made you shudder before there was a press of something to the back of your hand, “Wear something to dance.” The Darkness hummed before his lids grew tired and he disappeared into the roots. You jumped and took your hand back as the oak tree groaned and moved back its old roots, hiding the opening once more.

Thunder crashed for most of the next day before the real storm swirled over the land, black clouds twisting in on one another, rolling and spewing torrents of hammering rain. Wind blew down the mountainside for most of the morning. Carefully you chose and outfit in the afternoon, shuddering as the rain bounced off your windows, twirling in the fine silks and singing with the harp clutched in your hand about angering the mother of the skies. You watched the sun set as you ate, spooning your food into your mouth as fast as you could manage before you stole away into your room to grab at the large coat. The rain lightening as you stepped outside, your harp protected in your bag from the torrents. With a smile, you bounced into the woodlands from the cottage’s backdoor, mouth open wide as you sung once more.

“Rain and wind, thunder and howl, across ye plains. Birth of life, green and root, into the soil ‘gain. As the sun sleeps, douse the land, with water o’plenty. Watch and wait for Mother to sing, about when the larder was empty.” You sang as you rushed into the woods, listening in fear for the wolves as the rain slowed to a drizzle. Your hood flew from your head as you rushed beneath and over the homes of many animals, hunkered down away from the foul weather.

Suddenly, you were laughing, twirling into the stream as the rain soaked your hair and the water filled your pumps. A great thunderous crash made you face the sky, looking into the clouds as blue electricity singed across their surface. Another crash was accompanied with a flash of light and you grinned at the power of it before jumping from the stream and throwing your coat off, the silks attached to your shoulders flaring as you plucked your harp from your bag and played over the rain and thunder, spinning in the moss beneath the Old Oak.

“Sweet harpist.” The Darkness purred and you opened your eyes as black silk and cloth rippled in front of the tree, the roots closing with a groan of upset behind his giant figure. The clothing covering him draped over his giant, ebony horns, falling in waves that rippled with the wind. You peered into the hood and saw his orange eyes. His eyes watched you, panting, sodden with the rain falling from the sky. His clawed hand reached from within the cloth covering and you span from his reach with a gentle pluck of your harp.

“You tease me.” He offered before another thunderous crash sounded, along with his laughter. The cape hood and cape around him billowed again in the wind, the encrusted jewels clinking, and you looked to see as the silk around his arms in two cuffs ripple gently. His form was interchangeable, and you watched him float before two cloven hooves thudded to the ground from beneath the bottom seam of the cloth.

“Are you going to dance with me, my lord?” You asked as you span to play your harp away in your bag, thrown beneath the tree.

The Darkness nodded from within the hood and offered his red, clawed hands once more, “Let us celebrate this night.” He rumbled; his voice distorted as the thunder rumbled again overhead.

In his palms, your hands were dwarfed by his own, and you held onto them tightly as the Darkness drew you in closer to him, his silks blending with your own before he led you around in a small circle, one arm outstretched and the other placed at your hip. The cadence of the rain grew louder and louder as you both twirled past the oak tree and through the woodlands, trampling flowers and brambles as you span around in each other’s embrace. Rain soaked you as you laughed and ducked beneath his arms, and the Darkness howled with laughter as the thunder crashed and boomed overhead. A lightning flash revealed his red face, sharp, angular, and long with a mouth of white teeth, his incisors long and sharp. He leaned over and you reached to catch his face, pausing your dance in a great meadow which was soiled and boggy with water. Gently, you took hold of his cheeks, running your wet thumbs over his boiling skin. His hooves sunk in the mud as he leaned closer to you, staring into your eyes as the rain dripped from his great horns.

“I suppose you think me a monster?” He asked as the thunder rolled above you both, drowning his bitter laughter from your ears.

“You’re the Darkness. You are not man nor monster.” You whispered close to his lips, “You are balance and sin.” It seemed like your tongue was loosened, “The sprites warned me…about temptation but you have given me nothing but comfort. There has been no agony, only laughter.” You reached to his pointed ears and closed your eyes as the rain rushed over you both.

The Darkness raised his great cloak and shielded you both from the downpour as his lips pressed against your own. It was gentle at first, hot and intimate, before his teeth nipped at your lower lip and his pointed tongue pressed into your mouth, hot against the coldness of your own mouth from standing in the rain. The Darkness wrapped you tighter beneath his cloth, the silk brushing your damp skin as one large hand cupped your face, his thumb tipping your head higher, and his other skated down your chest before cupping the small of your back.

The kiss was long and passionate, filled with the decadence of the night, some things that the light simply could not offer to you. He pulled himself away from your lips, leaving you gasping for air as you recovered, wrapped in his great cloak.

“I feel…many things, when I am with you, little one.” The Darkness confessed into the folds of his cloak, his eyes looking into your own, meeting them with a confidence you had never seen before in an courter, “I would make you my ruler.” He confessed as he pressed your hand to his hot chest, underneath the cloth.

You looked up at him as rain dripped from his horns and over your own face, dripping down the bridge of your nose in speedy tracks, “I don’t want to be a master.”

“Then play for me, for all time. Play music and inspire my name into those once more.” He begged softly, clutching your hands before he hissed, the thunder crashing overhead once more.

“Can we be together?” You asked in a whisper, fear making your fingers tremble.

“For eternity.” He promised, “Beyond and after the ends of time. Sing songs of Darkness and Love for me.”

“Eternity…”

There was another rumble, and you took his hands again, before the lightning struck a tree in the distance sending fire and wood exploding into the sky. His hood disappeared with a gale of wind before the cloth and silk wrapped around you once more and the Darkness hefted you into his arms, bleeding black with shadows and darkness as the storm and its plight fed him power. You leaned back in awe of the sky, rain burning your eyes as the clouds rolled above you. A great growl sounded from your lover’s chest before he laid you back against a great stone tablet, made for the harvest ceremonies of the fae. Your back met the stone gently before the silks slapped and stuck to the rock and you moved backwards as a furred leg rested against the edge. Red and black merged on his skin as he took hold of the silk and pulled you to the lip of the table, his eyes hungry for a taste of you.

“Can we do this here?” You asked, breath escaping you as his huge form covered you, the black material shielding you from the rain as he stole another deep kiss.

“Yes. Anywhere. Whenever. I adore you.” He heaved as he pulled away, his words heavy in the air as he leaned back to tear as your clothing, exposing perfection to his gaze, “You are temptation.” He uttered with another heavy groan as lightning struck the earth again, “Glorious Sin.” He moaned as his tongue laved at your neck, tasting the flesh, “Surely this is what innocence tastes of. Purity and…” The Darkness broke off into another guttural moan as he kissed down your chest, pressing his tongue to your nipples, enjoying them as they hardened into sharp peaks. His hot breath pebbled your cold skin and he moved over your stomach, squeezing, and enjoying himself as he reached the dip of your hips. His tongue dipped to wrap around you, and you writhed against the table as rain crashed against the hillside.

#legend 1985 #darkness x reader #the lord of darkness x reader #the lord of darkness #the darkness #darkness #legend #reader insert #demon x reader #monster x reader #devil x reader #gender neutral reader #monster boyfriend #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #monster bf #monster x human

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the-fiction-witch · 3 years ago

Text

Mariée Au Mal

REAL LIFE X DEVIL / WITCHES COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: FLIRTY

I walked the stone streets hearing my boots against the stone. Hearing the movement of my dress almost touching the stone. I felt the chill of the wind around me. The darkness crept across the village as the sun set beyond the hill. Every step I took I could hear and see, children being ushered inside, doors being bolted, windows being shut and locked. The whispers of the name they had given me. 'mariée au mal' I knew what it meant. I knew their assumptions about me. I tried not to think of it.

I looked at my shadow walking down the path with the light from the sunset, I looked to my left to a shop the blind already down, but a few shutters where someone peaked out, those instantly dropped as I looked and the door bolted I saw my reflection my long purple dress, black petticoats, black corset, my black hooded cloak, my tall riding boots, my twisted y/h/c hair and blood red lips. I continued on my way moving my wicker basket up my arm a little more, checking on the lavender and honey I had gathered across the forest this afternoon. I walked quickly trying not to draw attention to myself before reaching the graveyard and the little river that ran beside it, perched on the graveyard gate sat a raven it cawed at me so I smiled and offered my hand letting it perch on my ring as I walked over the little stone bridge over the river pushing open the little gate to my house. The twisted metal whining as I did I walked the sweet path through my garden until I arrived at my little thatched cottage with leaded glass windows and the conversatory. I smiled and headed inside my little house though the glass conservatory door putting my basket down emptying out my herbs and honey into my apothecary as the raven flew off into the house and perched on the sofa on his usual pillow

"Hello my little princess" he smirked

"Will you just. One damn minute" I told him

"What? What have I done?" He whines getting up and coming over fixing his clothes a little but I did my best not to look at him

"I'm working" I said

"Umm working? I think your just being mean to me" he smirked into my ear untying my cloak and pulling it off me "come in you can work anytime, I don't get to visit to much anymore, not half as often as I'd like my sweet little princess" he cooed cuddling me from behind "and I have missed you, so badly" he smirked almost growing in my ear as he pushed himself against my dress

"Thomas. Five minutes alright, you've been gone six months five more minutes isn't going to kill you" I laughed

"It might"

"Nothing kills you"

"Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No."

"Good." He says kissing my shoulder "I'm sorry I was gone so long."

"Umm" I said ignoring him

"Aww? Is that why your so grumpy with me?" He laughs before turning me around to face him as he stood in my conservatory his golden hair reflecting the sunsets light, his red textured button down shirt undone half way down his chest, his tight black almost leather pants against him, black braces or suspenders on his shoulders to keep them up even if I don't think he needed them, stubble gracing his chin and the corners of his upper lip but nowhere near as bad as I had seen before when he's been away for longer his hands around me softly his foot between my own "I told you it was work, you know I wouldn't leave my little princess unless I had to" he cooes caressing my cheek "it's a busy job you know, I keep telling you I'll... Take you with me if you want?"

"No thank you" I said turning back to my work "I wish you wouldn't wait there"

"Where? On the gate?"

"Umm. Why not in the garden?"

"You might not see me, besides I like them knowing I'm here"

"You might I don't. It makes them nervous and when people get nervous they get scared and when people get scared they do stupid things." I explained

"Well... Maybe they need a little fear in them"

"I don't want to be feared, Thomas..."

"Don't you?" He laughs sitting in my work bench so I had no choice but to see him "you get off on it"

"What?"

"Oh come on" he laughs "riding boots with the six inch heels? The long purple dress? The black corset? Blood red lipstick? Long black hooded cloak? And you're telling me you don't want to be feared? You love it"

"It's fun sometimes" I admit

"I know it is princess, maybe you and me should go walking in the town sometime really frighten them" he smirked

"No Thomas. We're in enough trouble as it is" I told him

"mariée au mal" he smirked to himself

"Shut up" I sighed

"It's a good name for you"

"I said shut up Thomas"

"Bride of evil"

"Married to evil"

"Depends on your translation." He shrugs

"Why did I marry you?" I asked leaning on my desk to slightly glare at him

"I don't know, you asked me remember" he smirked, kissing my cheek and jumping off the desk going into the cottage "you coming to bed? Or do I have to drag my pretty bride down to hell with me to fuck her?" He smirked,

I smiled as I laid in my bed listening to the wind in the tree's, the sounds of animals in the woods, the babble of the river under the bridge, the quiet of this peaceful little town. I could hear Thomas Gently breathing, his arm around my waist spooning me as he often did wanting to keep me safe in his arms so if I even moved much less left his arms he would know and it would wake him. I couldn't help my mind flooding with the memories of the first night I ever spend on his arms.

I was young, but old enough to know better. I would go and play by the tall willow tree in the forest. I would go and spend hours and hours reading books and gathering flowers. Often times I would speak to the tree and many times it would speak back to me. I had always been a woman on the darker side of the world. I liked the grim and the spooky, I had a fondness for the darkness and what often times lurked within it. I had always been wary of straying too far, never leaving a door open, never offering things without consistency, never going too far if you won't commit to it. Rules I followed like laws, until one night. It was a blood moon, it hung over the willow and that night I decided I wanted to see just how far I could go.

I made an altar at the willows roots, with candles, herbs, a salt circle, flowers, and tools. I called out things but nothing answered. Each time I called out going deeper and deeper until someone answered me.

"Hello, aren't you beautiful" he smirked as he saw me "not often I get such a beautiful woman calling out to me"

"I uhh i-" stuttered in shock

"Shh, it's alright. I guess you don't get answers very often. No need to worry, sweet girl. I won't hurt you"

"I seek what is to be" I said

"Do you?" He smirked "clever girl as well as beautiful. Are you sure that's what you want?" He asks

"Yes"

"Then a smart girl like you understands the price it takes"

I nodded and took the cage from my basket of the small bird I had found he laughed at me

"You have been misinformed" he says taking the cage and letting the bird loose

"Then what is the price?"

"The price is different for everyone."

"Then for me?"

"For you?" He smirked "I can give you what you seek. But for you beautiful lady, the price is simple. Your utter love and devotion, swear your life and love for me, be mine and you shall have all that you seek"

"How do I do this?"

"... Be with me. And swear your devotion to me" he smirked taking my hands

"Yes master" I nodded

"Whoa... Just Thomas little princess, I'm not your master, and I won't be. You'll be my bride, still happy?" He asked and I nodded "good. Now... We're all done with the formalities, shall we? my pretty little princess? My sweet little wifey?"

I nodded and he smirked looking at me, licking his tongue slightly across his bottom lip. He moved forward holding my Waist before leaning in and kissing me softly, he was warm, and soft, he tasted and smelt like ash, mahogany, petricorn and mint. He was gentle with me as he kissed me his thumb stroking my waist as we kissed in the moonlight, surrounded by the tree and it's leaves, the gentle breeze as the kisses got faster, deeper until he pushed me to gently laying me down on the grass in the circle of salt with him laid over me…

I woke up peacefully to the sweet symphony of bird song in the tree's. The gentle breeze whistling through the branches and leaves. The hushed sounds of the world before people rise. I was warm between the layers of my dress, one protecting me from the ground the other protecting my body, his arm around my waist his head nuzzled in my shoulder and arm fast asleep barely making a sound but his breaths. I looked seeing his sweet mop of hair nuzzled so close to me, looking up seeing the sunlight cascading through the tree as it rose, the sunlight peeking in through the leaves and branches.

"Uumm good morning" he yawns

"Hi" I blushed

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing"

"No, come on tell me"

"So… that's that"

"Aww what? Was I disappointing little princess?" He whines

"No, no. It's just that's it you know"

"Well, We’re married now”

“What?”

“We’re married. And mated.”

“So… I’m a real witch now” “You were a real witch before. But Now my bride”

“So? What are we going to uhh… going to do?”

“Well, I have to get to work soon. I’ll be down there for a couple of days but I’ll come back and snuggle up with my little wifey, I might not be home some nights. But it’s work. I'll always come back to my little princess, Like any husband and wife when a husband works away” He explained “So? Shall we head home?”

I stood in my conservatory, the sunlight flickering through the glass, Through the leaves of the forest, the stems and petals of the flowers that grew in here or in the garden, The flicker of rain bows where light flickered through the glass or though sculpted bottles of potions and viles, as well as though light catchers.

“Hey” Thomas smiled Leaning on my door to stare at me

“What?” I laughed

“Nothing, I just like looking at you” He shrugs

“Go Look at your pit of sluts”

“It’s not a pit. It’s a…. Box”

“Go look at that then”

“Why would I go look at them? When I have my wife?”

“Go hang out with one of your other wives then”

“What over wives?” he laughs

“I can’t be the only witch who summoned you and… let you, you know”

“Of course not. You’re my only wife princess.” He says

“What about all those other-”

“Shhh, You’re my only wife princess, and if I get summoned by any other little witches in the forest I send the demons. I only come when my wife summons me” He smirked giving my cheek a kiss cuddling me tightly and stroking my stomach “Besides. I’m going to be staying from now on, as much as I can now you have the baby coming” He cooed, kissing my neck and down my shoulder as he stroked my stomach “My beautiful princess, My Beautiful bride. I get to spend all day with you now, My pretty wifey and our baby”

“Sure thomas” I laughed “Maybe soon I’ll get to go down there?”

“You will, when the baby is born. My sweet little princess,” He cooed kissing my cheek

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free-pancakes · 4 years ago

Text

couldn’t sleep last night and decided to elaborate more on this prompt! thanks again for the ask, @agoldenheartedsnkfan! i ended up changing my original answer a bit as i kept writing

it’s a bunch of levihan fluff and banter and it’s not very exciting, so you are officially forewarned lol

Summary: Levi confronts his feelings about Hange after the Sawney/Bean incident

cross-posted to ao3

“Levi, do you mind holding these for me?” Hange shoved her papers into Levi’s hands and ran back into her office. “Moblit couldn’t carry all my stuff, so this is a huge help, thanks Levi!” “Oi, four-eyes, what’s all this shit for?”

Hange ran back out of her office holding more tools and notebooks. “I’m doing some more experiments on Sawney and Bean tomorrow and I’m setting it all up! Remember, I’ll be meeting up with your squad and Eren later!”

“Hmph. Well you might as well just move your entire office out towards those damn titans, then. Carrying this stuff back and forth is a waste of time.” Hange threw her head back and laughed. “It would take ages to move my entire office out here, shorty! And THAT would be a waste of time!”

Levi rolled his eyes at her comment, and they started walking together to the tents outside the compound where the titans were held captive.

“Thanks for your help, Levi!” Hange smiled widely, and dropped half the things she was holding just to hug him, causing him to do the same.

“Oi four-eyes, we just got here and you’re already making a mess,” he muttered as he immediately started tidying up all the papers strewn across the floor. “Wow Levi, you can’t let a mess sit for even a second before you have to clean it up!” As she bent down next to him gathering the notebooks on the floor, the sweet scent of lavender reached Levi’s nose. “Yeah well good thing you started using the shampoo I bought you, because then this shit wouldn’t be the only mess on the floor I’d have to clean up.” Hange let out a small giggle, “Aw Levi, stop being so uptight! That’s why you have that permanent, constipated look on your face all the time!”

Nifa looked at Moblit. “God you were right, their weird little banter and bickering really doesn’t end, does it?”

“SHHHH NIFA they might hear you! I’d be caught dead if Levi finds out I’ve been ranting to our squad about the two of them! I’m glad Hange’s happy when Levi’s around but honestly I’d like some peace and quiet sometimes,” Moblit sighed.

Nifa whispered, “Hm, well if we said something, maybe they’d finally realize they actually do like each other, maybe they’ll stop fighting all the time!”

“Oh Nifa, with my luck, their banter will never end no matter what happens. Come on, we have a lot of work to do.”

“Ughhh fine,” Nifa said, defeated.

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

Levi stood with his arms crossed in front of Erwin’s desk. “Moblit said you wanted to see me?”

“Yes. I’m a bit, concerned about Hange. I haven’t seen her since we completed the ODM checks. I’m not entirely sure who really killed Sawney and Bean at this point, but I have some feeling that Hange is still blaming herself over it. I haven’t heard or seen her for the past couple days—I know it’s your day off, but do you think you could find her and see how she’s doing, Levi?”

“Sure.” Levi turned to walk out the door.

“And Levi?”“Yes?”

“I asked you because well…I know you’d be able to bring her spirits back up. It’s been awfully quiet without her around.”

Levi nodded, and left to find Hange.

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

Levi searched all throughout the barracks—the lab, Hange’s office, the mess hall, and all her usual spots he’d find her sitting and scribbling notes. He checked with his squad and Hange’s squad, and no one knew where Hange was.

It was getting late, and the sun began to set lazily in sky. Levi was about to leave to look through their usual hangout places in town, when he heard Nifa jogging to catch up to him. “Hey Levi! I did notice one thing—Hange’s ODM gear is missing! She must have it with her!” Levi was grateful for how observant Hange’s squad members were, because now, he knew exactly where she was. He reached out to ruffle Nifa’s hair, and headed out.

Levi scaled the wall with his ODM gear, and started walking through the path of walkway around all the supply boxes and materials stored up by the center looking post. He wandered around for a few minutes until he turned around a tall pile of supplies and saw Hange, sitting with her legs dangling off the side of the wall, holding her face in her hands. He was entranced by her appearance, tears streaming into her hands, traveling slowly down her arms. He had seen Hange cry before, mourning over dead comrades and failed experiments, but this was different. Hange was sunshine personified—a fierce fire ever present in her eyes, a person radiating energy and self-confidence every minute Levi had known her. But in that moment, it was nowhere to be found, and it made Levi feel so cold that he shivered where he stood. He woke himself out of his trance, and stepped silently towards Hange. As he got closer, he heard Hange muttering to herself—

“God, Hange. It’s all your fault, you’re such an idiot. You just keep on letting everyone down don’t you? Why can’t you just stop being so goddamn useless?”

Levi stopped at hearing those words and felt nothing but anger—“How could she even think that?” he thought to himself. He was overwhelmed with fierce feelings to protect her and wanted nothing but for her to know how important she was to the survey corps, to those 104th brats, to his squad, to their friends, and more importantly—to him. His chest swelled with emotion, overwhelming his senses. He closed his eyes, took a moment to breathe and calm himself.

He avoided dwelling on these types of feelings, but to his annoyance, he was constantly pestered with comments and questions on the nature of his relationship was with Hange. However, the more Levi let himself simmer in these thoughts, the more he realized that he couldn’t just keep denying how he truly felt. Three years was long enough.

He walked towards her until he was standing directly behind her, looking down at the top of her head, mesmerized by the purple-orange glow of the sunset illuminating the tears on her face, and her flowing locks of hair draping softly over her shoulders—he rarely ever saw it out of a ponytail. “God, even when she's sad, everything about her is still beautiful,” Levi thought.

Hange didn’t notice Levi until she suddenly felt his hands gently cupping her cheeks, which then carefully pushed her chin upwards to look at him. She was startled at first, as she thought she was alone, but she recognized it to be Levi fairly quickly. She found herself staring into Levi’s face, his bangs barely brushing the tip of her nose. She was angry at first, upset that anyone would find the scout’s section commander crying and doubting her own abilities. But as she frowned and opened her mouth to yell and project her frustrations onto him, Levi wiped away the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs and sat down next to her, his actions calming her sudden surge of anger. They made eye contact, and Hange knew exactly what was on Levi’s mind—he didn’t need to say a word.

Hange laughed, and placed her hand on Levi’s shoulder. “You always know what to say… without even saying it, don’t you Levi?”

A few moments of silenced passed.

“Hm. Well, your eyesight might be trash, but other than that, you do know you’re not useless, right?”

Hange looked down with embarrassment, surprised he had heard her talking to herself. She opened her mouth to speak in protest, but Levi gently placed his hand on her head and pulled her into his gaze. “I don’t want to hear any of that nonsense ever again, Hange. Focus on what lies ahead, and I’ll be right here by your side to hold your shit, or whatever you need. Okay?”

Hange’s eyes widened. Levi might not be great with words, but Hange was always good at “translating” for him, or at least understanding what he really meant. “Levi, are you saying… what I think you’re saying?”

Levi was at a loss for words, and beads of sweat instantly started forming on the side of his brow. Hange noticed this immediately and laughed so hard that tears started welling up around her eyes. “Oi four-eyes, this isn’t funny!” Hange kept laughing and laid her head on his shoulder. It took all of Levi’s energy to suppress a smile—he hated to admit it, but her laughter was contagious. “Hange I’m serious, okay? I—“

“I love you too, yknow?” Hange whispered.

Levi’s expression softened at her response. Minutes passed before either of them could say anything. They sat, dwelling on the words they just exchanged, staring out to the vast land in front of them, the last rays of sun peaking over the horizon.

“…How long have you known?” Levi asked curiously.

“Well Nanaba really just pulled me aside the last time we all went drinking about a few months ago, and pushed me in the right direction, I guess. It’s funny, in retrospect, I think the moment I knew that you might be a little more than just my best friend was—“

“At the Sina military ball 3 years ago,” Levi and Hange echoed simultaneously.

“W-wait, you started having feelings for me the same night I did for you?” Hange exclaimed.

“Pfft, pulling those pranks on all those dumb military police morons with you wasn’t bad.” Hange smiled as she reminisced over the trouble they got into that night, the laughter they shared, and… their first dance together. “Hey Levi, the two of us make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“Yeah, all 3 of us.”“Oi what do you mean by 3 of us? What are you talking about??”

“Yeah, 3. You, me, and your shitty glasses.”

Hange laughed heartily, and kissed Levi on the cheek. He immediately blushed and she giggled more at his embarrassment. She stood up, and said, “Hah, well I guess it’s time to head back. Erwin’s probably wondering where we are, and the debrief meeting is gonna start pretty soon.” She excitedly held her hand out towards Levi to help him up. He couldn’t help but smile at her goofy grin, and grabbed her hand.

#levihan #levihan fanfic #ao3

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alittlebitgoofy · 4 years ago

Text

if i had my way i would be yours - chapter 3 (taywhora)

here we are, chapter three finally :)) thanks to zyan for her patience, this took a lot of work to get done ngl she helped a lot

ao3 link

The next morning, Tayce realized how deep she was in. Just going about her daily life with A’whora was bringing out all kinds of things she hadn’t been aware of before. Sure, being close to her always made her weirdly giddy, but they were best friends, that was normal. Right?

She didn’t know what to think, she wasn’t gay. Surely, she would’ve felt something for a girl before this all happened. Maybe it would pass, it did with guys she's crushed on in, why would this be different?

She tried to ignore the voice in the back of her mind, the one that knew it’d be different because it was A’whora, and she was better than anyone Tayce could ever meet. No one could ever beat her.

It wasn’t like her to get so into her head over something, but it started to make sense. A’whora had always been there, always making her deliriously happy in their best times and with her through thick and thin. She couldn’t imagine her life without the goofy blonde, and was forever grateful they crossed paths.

A’whora wouldn’t judge her for this, minus the details of it being about her. But it wasn’t time to bring something like that up. It felt too raw, like Tayce could be mistaking herself or the feelings would sort out in a matter of time. It wasn’t a crush, it couldn’t be.

Or could it?

“Hey, you alright there?” A’whora poked her shoulder. Of course she’d noticed something was up. Nothing got past her. “I don’t think I've ever seen you think so much. What’s going on?” Her voice was caring in a way Tayce would always hesitate at. She didn’t like vulnerability, didn’t want to talk about her problems even to the one person she’d trust with anything.

At the lack of a response, A’whora came closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Tayce’s chest warmed at the action. She wanted nothing more than to lean into it, scoop A’whora into her arms and just lie with her, pretending everything was fine. Something stopped her, the common sense that it wouldn’t help how things were no matter how little A’whora was aware of them.

“It’s nothing, I’ll get over it,” Tayce sighed, her hand going to hold A’whora’s and give it a squeeze. A’whora knew what that meant. She was closed off with no option to try and pry her open. It was frustrating, why couldn’t she be open? She had been in the past, but it rarely came about. It wasn’t something she could force like it or not. She’d work with her quirks, just as Tayce did with her constant overthinking.

“Do you want to go play something? I might finally be able to beat you at Mortal Kombat if you’re not careful.”

Tayce was thankful for the distraction, agreeing to the game and silently begging all of this could stop and she could just enjoy the company of her best friend again.

---

It took days for Tayce to begrudgingly accept her feelings weren’t going anywhere. It felt like a cruel joke, pushing this onto her just after another reminder her love life was failing. Talking to her roommate about it wasn’t an option, she could only sit and try to pay it no mind. It got harder to look at A’whora how she used to. Anything the blonde did sent shock waves through her heart.

She’d smile, eating beans on toast and making Tayce a plate, being blissfully unaware of the confusion and pain she was putting the taller girl through. She had no idea of the way Tayce longed to pull her close and just have her understand everything. She couldn’t communicate it, but she just wanted someone to understand.

She wasn’t a lesbian. That much she was sure of; she’d been with enough men to know she genuinely enjoyed it. She was happy with the idea of ending up with a man.

If they were as good as her.

Something in her hated the idea, refused to like girls. Surely, she would have realised it earlier. It screamed this is a phase, that she should hate herself for feeling this way about someone who she was so close to. A’whora didn’t deserve someone like her, who didn’t even understand herself. fi

She’d always been able to shrug those voices off, unaffected by society’s expectations. But this felt different. She had nowhere to turn, she was left to deal with something so much more than she knew how to and powerless to tell anyone.

A’whora has been cautious around her, Tayce being snappier with so much going on in her head. It hurt to see the way she hesitated before saying something that could irritate her. She looked conflicted, as if she wanted to call it out but she knew that it would cause Tayce to blow up in her face.

It would happen if she was confronted, Tayce knew she’d get defensive as all hell before she let anyone know a thing about what was going on. She dealt with things alone, that wasn’t negotiable.

“I’m so happy for you two! It’s about time,” A’whora grinned, she was on facetime with Ellie and Lawrence who was with her. It was good to see the two had finally resolved their tension, but it was the furthest thing Tayce wanted to see then and there.

“Please, the sexual tension was unbearable,” Tayce chimed in, trying her best to mask her irritants and be happy for her friends. She was happy for them, it was just overshadowed by so many things. Said things being in the room with her, shuffling close to her to get her on the screen.

“Oh, please, you’re just jealous we got a relationship sorted before either of you,” Lawrence shot back, though A’whora and Tayce just laughed it off.

When A’whora came off the call, Tayce felt her mask fall; she didn’t try to hide the miserable look on her face as she stared blankly ahead of her. “What have you got a face like a smacked arse for?” A’whora tried to joke a bit, sensing the sudden change in mood. Tayce just looked at her and groaned, shoving her head in her hands and groaning louder when A’whora asked what was wrong again.

“Was it the relationship stuff?”

“I just don’t want to see that stuff, you know?” Tayce sighed, eyes firmly glaring at the floor. Her eyes were glazed over with too many feelings. It was easier to fall numb to it than even process the mess her mind had been lately.

“What? Gay people?” A’whora attempted a joke, though the lack of response from Tayce sent shockwaves down her spine. “It’s not actually that, is it?” A’whora’s nervous laugh rang out in Tayce’s ears. She felt powerless to say anything, she couldn’t communicate what she was feeling. All she could do was stare down, as if she was deaf to the whole conversation, but painfully aware of every second that ticked by.

She wasn’t thinking about what could happen if she didn’t answer. There were too many things going on for her to even process a reply but that was all A’whora needed.

“Tayce, what the fuck. Is that why you’ve been so weird lately? You’ve been like this since that night at Bimini’s where Lawrence and Ellie were getting close.” Tayce finally looked up, looking like a deer in headlights. Her words just weren’t forming. That wasn’t what she meant, she supported them, she always had but she couldn’t begin to form the words that she needed to. Before she could try it was too late. Her best friend looked at her as if she was the most vile thing she’d ever seen, there was no hope to scrape back a recovery.

“I didn’t mean that! I just don’t want to see it right now!” “See what? You can’t say it? You’re disgusting. You spent years being supportive, but I never brought a girl here. If I did, would you have cracked sooner? I can’t believe you, I thought you were good, Tayce. I can’t even look at you right now.” She was yelling now, visibly furious in a way that Tayce had never seen. It shook her to her core to have that directed at her but once again the words couldn’t come out. She couldn’t defend herself.

Seeing Lawrence and Ellie together made her uncomfortable, the idea of A’whora bringing a girl home made her uncomfortable. She tried to respond, only able to sigh and attract the ire of her roommate even more.

“Fuck this, I’m leaving. I’m going to Bimini’s. I don’t want to see you, either deal with this shit or move out.” “Don’t leave!” Tayce cried out, finally able to find some words. A’whora looked at her pitifully, shaking her head. Her heart sank. She’d fucked up. The one person she could always trust to have her back was pissed at her for something she was guilty of

“I’m not staying. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to be around someone like you.”

A’whora stormed out, leaving Tayce with only her thoughts. They filled the silence that the blonde left, screaming at her. She should have said something, she was disgusting for being like this. Everything started to hurt. She just wanted A’whora to help her but she’d fucked that up too. She didn’t deserve her anyway.

She was too caught up in her head to do anything. Everything she had done up until now ended in disaster. What was the point anymore?

Tayce considered calling someone, anyone, just so she could explain the situation to someone. She didn’t love to talk about her problems, but she needed it now. With A’whora out of the picture, who else could she talk to? Bimini? They were very understanding and compassionate, but that was who A’whora had gone to for comfort.

Lawrence and Ellie were together, that was too much for her to want to try. Plus, saying anything about this to either of them would get them prying for details, and her whole friend group would end up knowing about this.

With A’whora mad at her, though, she was sure word would travel soon.

That left Asttina. She seemed like a good choice, though the chance she was with Bimini was decently high; it was Tayce’s only shot at a decent conversation that wouldn’t spill it to everyone they knew.

Asttina picked up quickly, surprised by the sudden call. It wasn’t like Tayce to call people randomly, she’d prefer talking face to face. Her interest peaked further as Tayce let out a quiet thank god as she answered the call.

“Help.” That was all Tayce could get out, her voice weak. She held none of her usual energy, it sent shivers down Asttina’s spine to hear her so defeated.

“What’s wrong? Does it have anything to do with A’whora in the lounge talking with Bimini? She looked pretty upset, guessing you are too?” Asttina spoke slowly, trying to gauge exactly where Tayce was at. This wasn’t the girl she knew, it was a broken shell who was without the one person she knew would understand her.

“Yeah. we had a bit of a falling out. She was joking about something and I didn’t deny it. I don’t really know how I feel about it. It’s such a mess.”

“Girl, I can’t help you if you’re being vague,” Asttina deadpanned, Tayce only sighing in response.

“Okay. We were calling Lawrence and Ellie and I got a bit in my head, being reminded of people being in love and all. She was trying to help me, asking me what was up and making a joke about it being because they’re gay. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t know what to say. It isn’t that, or I thought it wasn’t, but it might be. Seeing them together made me uncomfortable. The idea of her getting with someone and bringing them home makes me uncomfortable. What if I'm the problem?” Tayce felt everything spill out of her. All the words she couldn’t find earlier. It felt freeing to finally tell someone but the doubt fell back on her soon after. She was a bad friend, she was the common issue in all of this.

“Tayce, there is no way you’re homophobic. There’s something else going on here. You’ve supported A’whora ferociously for years, you helped me and Bimini get together and you wanted Lawrence and Ellie to hurry the fuck up like the rest of us.”

Tayce let out a hum of acknowledgement, trying her hardest to ignore the doubt that crept in even with her friend's reassurance. How could she be so certain? What if she was just faking it?

“Tayce.” Asttina shook her head. She could feel the hesitation in Tayce. “Have you considered maybe jealousy?” She continued.

“Me? Jealousy? I don’t do that, you know I don’t. What’s there to be jealous of? Sure, I’m annoyed at seeing people in loving relationships, but it’s not like I can’t live with it. Why would it be an issue now?”

“You just contradicted yourself,” Asttina stated flatly, Tayce groaning in realisation.

“But that doesn’t explain the A’whora thing, like, even the idea of it? It makes my stomach churn.”

“I’m sure there’s another reason for that, but I think you already know it.”

She did know, deep down. It wasn’t the same way she felt when Lawrence and Ellie were all coupley. It was different, a visceral reaction to something that pained her to even think about. It started to make sense—but it couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true, not her. She wasn’t.

Or was she?

#taywhora #if i had my way i would be yours #rpdr fanfiction

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drjackandmissjo · 4 years ago

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it’s nice to have a friend

previous chapter --- chapter 9

feysand masterlist

“Feels like home, Stay in bed the whole weekend.”

NSFW!

The first thing Feyre realized before even opening her eyes was the lack of a warm body next to her. It wasn't unusual for Rhys to get up before she did, either to fix something for his day's lectures or to train, but Feyre was never particularly fond of his absence as she woke up begrudgingly. Cassian teased her non-stop about how little of an early bird she was compared to his brother, but the main reason she ever woke up before noon, without counting work, was to at least kiss her husband goodbye before he left for his own job.

The second thing she noticed was the crispness and general sense of 'new' that came from the sheets and the softness of the mattress she laid on. It felt as if she was being slowly swallowed by a cloud and the sensation was a stark contrast to what she was used to. All their family constantly teased them for their favour of silk beddings and pillowcases, but Rhys always commented that they were just jealous of their bacteria-free bed. Eventually everyone got converted from the cheap cotton they used in college to silk, as all of their bank accounts could spare the expense and splurge now that they weren't broke college students anymore. Not that any of the Nox brothers nor the Golden Queen, as Mor had been playfully dubbed by Amren, was even remotely broke to begin with.

"It's all for the aesthetic" had once told her Cassian on their old apartment roof, pissed out drunk and desperatedly trying to get her to help him decorating a cake for his Post-Spring vacation assignment . "Just think about it! Your talent and my sugar paste!". She had outrighted refused when he began claiming how he would not share the finished product, a three layers with different percentages of cacao each, with her. "It will be a masterpiece. We can't eat masterpieces!"

"Well then don't make it a masterpiece, I wanna eat it already!" said an equally wasted Azriel, comically clutching an empty packet of chips with a saddened expression. Feyre sent Amren a long suffering look and was met back with an understanding one from the only other sober person on that roof, while the tiny woman mouthed her " The Joy of Babysitting" as she stood in between a bottle of Vodka and a very handsy Mor. Rhys hadn't arrived yet and she tried not to feel disappointed. It had been over a month since her breakup and she was nowhere near ready for another relationship, yet she wanted him with them, with her , even if she wasn't ready to admit it to herself.

Feyre stretched her arms above her head, taking away the last morsels of sleep from her eyes before opening them. She was immediately brought back to reality: she and Rhys had organized a weekend away to celebrate their anniversary in peace. Mor had demanded a fancy party like the one two years before, but both of them had preferred to spend the time quietly with each other, on a beautiful resort in the Illyrian mountains that one of her clients had suggested.

His side of the bed was still warm, also thanks to her own body heat as she had scooted over him in her sleep, but she could hear the sounds of the luxurious shower running. She debated for a couple of minutes whether to join him, knowing that they wouldn't emerge from the bathroom for a while if she did and therefore miss breakfast time, when she heard the water coming to a stop.

And there was her husband, one towel wrapped low around his hips as he dried his hair with another. "You're a sight for sore eyes" he told her after having taken her in, bed hair sticking in every direction and clad only in a sheer nightgown. They had arrived the night before, too tired after the long four hours drive to do anything other than hold each other throughout the night. Despite it being the middle of August, the weather up in the mountains was still rather cold and they had enjoyed each other's warmth immensely.

"You're not so bad yourself" she said right back, letting her eyes trace over the plains of his abdomen, defined by years of training.

He chuckled at her blatant staring as he inched closer to where she rested against the headboard, the bed dipping under his weight as he moved closer, capturing her lips in his. She opened up for him, deepening the kiss as her arms twisted around his neck, bringing him fully down with her. She would never get enough of this, she thought with a smile, never get enough of the kisses and the hugs and just him . Her hands moved once more, tracing a path down his bare back as he positioned himself between her legs on top of the covers. Her laugh filled the room as he began to remove the straps of her nightgown with his teeth, a playful gleam in his eyes as he then moved his attention to her shoulders nibbling at the bare skin, turning her laugh into soft whispers of encouragement. Her hands had now reached the towel, untying it swiftly and leaving him bare before her. His own began to trace the fabric down her body, exposing every inch of her skin to his prying eyes. His lips returned to hers as he twisted them around, his back now against the soft mattress as she straddled his hips, hands never leaving the exploration of each other's bodies.

"We will be late for breakfast" she said breathlessly as his mouth worked her neck, hands caressing her back. She couldn't really care less about anything that wasn't him at the moment, but the sensible and hungry part of her grounded her to the reality of her empty stomach.

"There's room service" he called from the space in between her breasts as she reclined back, grinding against his hips in desperate need for friction, "We can order in and not move an inch". She was lost in sensation, unable to speak anything other that his name and a few choices of curses as he teased her endlessly, his hands on her hips, keeping her still as he worked on her upper body.

"Darling?" he called at her before his mouth closed around one of her nipples, teeth grazing the delicate skin and elicing a moan from her throat.

Feyre's hands moved on his feverish skin, dragging her nails over his shoulders and arms, moving downwards before one of them stopped its trek and was placed around him cock, pumping it into her palm a couple of times before bringing it into her mouth. Rhys made a strangled noise from the back of his throat, his hands fisting into her hair as her own kept on moving up and down on his length.

He was a bubbling mess, incapable of speaking. A sound of disapproval rose from the back of his throat as she removed her mouth from him, the tight grasp on her hair moving to her backside as she aligned herself over him. She slowly sank down into him, stilling to adjust herself around him while a soft moan escaped her lips. He immediately brought her downward, moving his mouth against hers as the subtle change of position elicited a series of sounds from both of them.

Instantaneously she began to move, aided by his strong hands on her ass.

"Yeah let's do that" she replied arstly, hands bracing over his chest as she slowly rose into a kneeled position between his legs to sink further into him.

They chose to move in a slow rhythm, both knowing each other's body like their own. Her fingers followed the path of his tattoos, replacing them eventually with her mouth.

It was heartbreaking slow and brutal at the same time, the pace they set, yet neither complained. Rhys only moved to capture her lips once more as she drawed near her peak, one of his hands leaving their comfortable home on her rean to move to her center, flickering her clit viciously as he heaved himself into her with more vigor from under her.

Feyre's vision shattered a few thrusts later, her back arching as the room filled with her shouts. He followed shortly, pumping into her throughout her climax and drawing it out as much as he could.

"Let's stay in bed the whole weekend" she then said, momentarily sated as she tried to regain her breath that was coming out in frantic pants, not bothering to move nor to remove him from inside of her, "Let's not move from this bed until it's time to leave."

"Why, my Darling Feyre, that is probably the best idea you ever had!" said an equally spent Rhys, toying loosely with her curls.

"I thought my best moment was agreeing to marry you!"

His dark and rich laugh filled the room, "I don't think so. The best moment was talking Greek myth in your room as we were just friends."

"Yeah. It's nice, having you as my friend" she whispered, holding him closer to her naked body as she planted a kiss over his heart. "Well then I hope you don't do those kinds of activities with all your friends."

"I don't know what you're talking about" she claimed, her face a mask of pure undiluted innocence.

A wicked smile appeared on his lips. "Allow me to re-freshen your memories then."

They didn't leave the bed for the entirety of the weekend indeed.

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afy2018 · 4 years ago

Text

Take These Ch. 1

“Take these,” Xavier offered his colleague. He wrapped Svane’s personal journals in twine. “Ask Eliza if you wish to know more about Bulshar… just be careful.”

Nicole accepted the old books then continued their search around the camp. Bodies were strewn around the bloody pass, preserved by the frozen morning and the freshly fallen snow. The remaining Purgatorian soldiers took note of their fallen, carrying them to the front of the jagged pass for the caravan to take. It was the lasting effects of adrenaline that kept Haught from collapsing in the wake of their fief’s mass mourning. By mid-afternoon, everyone returned to the castle, recouping from the previous night’s entanglements. In a weird way, everything felt quite normal as the residents fell back into their previous patterns. De Behr’s men travelled back to London with their minor scrapes and bruises. Doll’s peers seemed to take their time, though as they mourned their colleague’s noble death. Eliza spent her time in the Atrium, the silent heart of the Earp manor recently cleared for usage in the middle of winter. Nicole joined her, awkwardly shuffling through a narrow path of snow.

“How may I help you, Dame Haught?” Eliza inquired, barely acknowledging her presence.

“What do you know of Bulshar?”

“Ah, Xavier told me you’d be asking sometime before I left. I’m surprised that in your training you weren’t informed about his existence,” she continued. “Bulshar Clootie-”

“Clootie?”

“Yes, he’s a cult leader from a prominent family in London who has been executing royal and historical lineages for the past three decades.”

“Is he still active?” Nicole asked, still standing at relaxed attention.

“Very much. He is responsible for massacring many old families mostly in Wales and Ireland. While I was still working in the Royal Army’s special forces, we raided his fortress and found a room filled with various trophies from his victims. We were able to identify eight of the twenty crests.” Eliza informed her. She took a deep breath and asked, “Dolls refused to explain why you were so keen on asking me about Bulshar, so you tell me.”

“I just need to know why his name has come up so frequently in my life.”

“You know, I thought I recognized your last name and colours. The Haughts are an Anglo-Irish family which we believe to be mostly safe from Bulshar’s tirade as the families we’ve identified are Gaelic or Welsh.”

“Does he have any heirs or wives?”

“Most likely yes, but nothing official.”

Nicole’s shoulders slightly slumped at her answer. “If you raided his base, why is he still active?”

“He’s slippery. We’ve lost many a spy by his hand, so when he inevitably found out we were raiding his base, he fled and we still have no clue as to his whereabouts.”

“Any feeling about where he might be? Or anyone who could be connected to him?”

Eliza reflected for a short while and said, “If you find Robert Svane he would know the most… maybe even your friend John Henry Holliday?’

“Why would John know anything?”

“Dolls told me that he was close to the Revenants, he might know a few secrets he hasn’t shared with anyone.” Nicole shifted her weight to the other foot, relaxing from her attention stance even more before finally leaning against the gazebo. Eliza then warned in a slightly more hushed tone, “Be vigilant and careful about who you share information with, Dame Haught. Bulshar has agents of chaos everywhere. Once you begin to investigate him, you’ll find that you can no longer trust anyone, not even the ones you love.” With that last piece of advice, Eliza lazily sighed, her demeanor completely shifting from just a few seconds before, “Anything else you felt you needed to know?”

“No, thank you, Dame,” Nicole bowed, then retreated to the castle.

John Henry Holliday, that’s who she needed to find. She hated searching for him as he was the laziest busy-body she knew. Nicole scoured the manor, first in Wynonna’s office, then down the Eastern wing, North, then South, but he was nowhere to be found. She did, however, happen upon her partner approaching their room.

“You look lost, Cesario” Waverly teased, wheeling her around.

“Cesario?” she questioned. Nicole couldn’t help but smile at her suave action and pecked her forehead.“I’m looking for John.”

“Oh, he’s playing dice at Shorty’s, currently getting rich at Shorty’s,” she remarked. “Is he in trouble?”

“No, actually, he might have some information about Bulshar…”

“Who told you that?”

“Eliza,” Nicole nodded towards the atrium. She mulled over her words and admitted, “If he knows about Bulshar, you may have been correct in thinking that he wasn’t as trustworthy as we originally thought.”

“Well, if he isn’t trustworthy, then why ask him?”

“I mean, he’s bound to say something true,” she guessed.

Waverly bit at the inside of her lip, “Why don’t you hold off on asking him. Wynonna’s known him longer and might help you prepare to call out his fibs when you question him.”

“Yeah, that’d be helpful…” Nicole agreed, fixing her partner’s St. Michael necklace and shirt. “So, if I’m Cesario, then who are you, Olivia or Orsino?”

“I would hope Orsino,” Waverly assured with a reaffirming peck on the lips.

“Where are you off to?”

“Gary needs help with the survivors, so I was going to get some bandages and salve.”

“How is Paul?”

“He’s very shaken. We had to amputate his leg and now… I’m not entirely sure what’s next for him,” she honestly sighed.

“Do you think he’s glad to be alive?” Nicole whispered.

Held back, Waverly asked, “Why? I’m… I’m sure he is.”

“I… don’t know. I was just curious. What would you do if you lost your leg?”

“I would continue my daily activities. Why, what would you want?” she carefully inquired, reaching up to her jaw.

Nicole pulled away, for a brief moment. “I don’t know. I think… I’m going to go ask Wynonna about John.”

Waverly watched her retreat into herself as she escaped their conversation to hide in her sister’s office for the time being. Despite their concerning conversation, she went along with her duties, collecting apothecary supplies to do her part in the reconstruction of their fief. Nicole found her way back to the office where Wynonna was still penning a letter to the Carlo brothers. She glanced up at her with a weak smile.

“Please tell me you brought something.”

“Just myself, and Svane’s dirty secrets,” Nicole explained, pulling the diaries from her satchel. “Wanna take a peak?”

“I’m a tad busy with the dead and all, but make sure to tell me the juiciest bits,” Earp remarked, going back to her letter.

Nicole sat down in the corner and began to pour over the old journals. There were seven in total and they spanned from 1601 to what would most likely lead into this past week. Svane’s writing in the first journal instantly began mentioning not only his father, Björn, but a cultist mentor Nicole assumed to be Bulshar. His writing was mostly chicken scratches, which made reading too difficult in certain passages. Sitting out of the way, Haught caught the various conversations between the ruling Lady and her citizens. Two of which, Pastor Williams and the local gravedigger Jones, were worried about last rites and proper burials in the dead of winter. It became all too real for her, though; and judging by the side glances she earned from Wynonna, it was getting to the young leader, as well. Earp kept a level head throughout the meeting and dipped into the treasury so Jones could bury the dead before they began to decay.

Once they left, Nicole asked, “How are you?”

“Considering I haven’t slept for the past three days, I lost Svane who’s probably going to attack us again, and this battle left three families with dead kids and another four considerably injured, I’m faring quite well,” she huffed. Wynonna locked them in the office and turned to her friend. “I- was it worth the bloodshed? Really, don’t bullshit me like everyone else.”

“I never do,” she admitted, thinking about her words. “I think it was. You dealt with an old foe who has been attacking and slaughtering your family for the past, what, four generations?”

“Six.”

“Exactly.”

“But was it worth doing that? I was prepared to execute a man. Could I really live with that blood on my hands? I know he killed my sister and father, but was he actually a bad man? I can’t help but think there was another way to do this and now I don’t think we can ever go back. You know in all of the years, the treaties and agreements, disarmaments and land disputes, the Earps have never attacked the Svanes like this,” Wynonna spiraled.

“I think there were only a few possible outcomes to your situation. In his anger and bloodlust, Svane could have changed his mind, but considering the ultimatums he gave you that really didn’t seem like an option, you offer your line and give your people over to a new unstable rule, you give yourself over and he returns to eliminate your issue, or you fight back and rid of him.”

“But I didn’t do that. I could have just killed him right there and then, but… I wanted to make a spectacle of it. Am I as bad as Robert?”

“If Svane were to return in any capacity, what would you do?”

“I would offer an agreement to co-rule over this land.”

“Do you think he would accept that?”

“I don’t know,” Wynonna pondered.

“I don’t know either. For the first time, I feel rather lost. I have another lead to who I really am, but I feel like I’m floating around in the ocean like a bottle with a deadly message inside.”

“What have you found so far?”

“According to everyone I’ve asked, Bulshar is a dangerous man with an ever-growing cult that has massacred many important families back home. He knows Svane, according to the journals, and somehow, there’s a link to me.” Nicole wrapped the diaries back up and placed them in her satchel. “I’m going to take a break, I just need to clear my head. I suggest you do the same. You need to sleep and clear your mind if you plan on leading your people through this.”

“Maybe it’s just insomnia, but I’m already missing Robert. He made living here exciting,” Wynonna joked. “Hey, can you keep this between us? I don’t need people knowing their leader is weak.”

“You are not weak, Wynonna.”

“I feel weak, then.”

Nicole went to open the door, the lock getting in the way.

“It’s locked,” Earp informed her.

“Yup, I know.”

“It’s also pull not push when you’re ready,” she chuckled.

“You ass,” Nicole joked on her way out.

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment!”

“How is that a compliment?”

“Because I have a great one!”

Nicole shook her head with that vibrant smile as she walked down the now candle-lit hallway to her room. The afternoon sun set by her shoulder, casting bizarre shadows into the old manor. In the tranquil building, every emotion began to rear its ugly head. In all of her years arresting, fighting, and inevitably killing, Nicole had never felt so affected by her actions. It may have had to do with the sheer intimacy she had with the people she was not only fighting for but sleeping alongside. Her fears suddenly came back with the dwindling light and she no longer knew how to cope with the losses. Returning to her room, Waverly stood by her side of the bed, pulling up a bundle of bandages and a jar of salve.

“Hey, sweetie!” she brightly exclaimed. “I know you’re going to say you’re fine, but we should really bandage you back up.”

“Thank you,” Nicole smiled, dropping her satchel on the floor and locking their door.

She approached her partner, taking the objects out of her hands to embrace her. Waverly stumbled back for a moment before fully wrapping her arms around her, too. The youngest Lady of the castle clung to her, their hearts being the only sound besides the crackling fire.

She slipped her hands to the back of her nape and waist. “Are you okay?” Nicole let out a deep sigh and tucked her head further against her neck. “It’s going to be okay, whatever you’re worried about.”

“I know because you’re safe.” Haught pulled back enough to regard her deep Caribbean sea blue eyes. Her eyes darted around her features, wishing she had seen them their first time together. She tucked a stray hair back behind her ear and directed to the medical supplies, “Is it okay if we save this stuff for later?”

Waverly glanced at the items on the table. “Oh, yeah, of course.”

Nicole leaned over to blow out the candle, getting tugged down into another chaste kiss by her partner. She smiled against her lips and wrapped her hand around the back of her neck to play with the soft hairs at her nape. Her hands roamed back under Waverly’s jaw before finally pulling away and extinguishing the candle, now the only source of light being from the dim fireplace. She settled back into her place in bed, spooning against her side. Waiting proved more virtuous than she would have thought, even with their first encounter being slow and awkward in the dark.

“What have you learned about your past?” Waverly whispered into the quiet room.

“Eliza told me that his reach is far and effective, so I should be careful of whom I trust,” Nicole nonchalantly answered. “And now realizing that his reach is more permanent in this area than I had previously known, I’m not entirely sure who I can trust here.”

“Well, is Eliza herself trustworthy? What if she’s just making you run around in circles?”

“Well, if she isn’t worthy of trust, then who is? She worked on his case, so if anyone knows the unbiased facts, she would.”

“I’m just saying, his own spies may reach into the army.”

“Hm,” Nicole considered.

“Nicole?” a wary voice called with a brisk knock on the door. “It’s Wynonna, we need to talk. I know you’re awake still so get dressed and come to my office, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she instinctively responded.

“Don’t,” Waverly quietly begged with an enticing kiss.

Between pecks, she chuckled, “I don’t want to anger your sister.” Pulling on her pants, Nicole shuffled around the dim room, taking her satchel with Robert’s diaries. “I swear I’ll be back in a couple of minutes, okay?” she promised with a firm tightening of her belt.

“Hair.”

“Oh, thank you,” Nicole responded with another brief peck as she pulled it in a tight regulation bun.

Haught escaped her room, quietly closing the door behind herself and walking down the candle-lit corridor to her friend’s office. She could hear hushed voices trickle down the hallway, their words completely unintelligible until she stood in the open doorway. Augustine, Seanan, and Gareth the apothecary standing in a semicircle behind the desk with Wynonna twiddling her thumbs in the corner. They all had stern faces, even their local tavern owner’s normally bright demeanor was far more severe than Nicole would have liked. Various situations raced through her head, maybe they were going to send her away? Did they not like her relationship with Waverly? Was Robert already back? Was she getting framed? The last scenario proved much closer to the issue they seemed to have.

“We were told that you got your hands on Robert Svane’s personal journals,” Augustine began.

“Yes, madam,” she confirmed.

“Would you please hand them over, young knight?”

Nicole began to reach into her satchel, then stopped, “Why?”

“Those are revolutionary contraband and must be destroyed,” Gareth nodded. Nicole furrowed her brows at his response as he was chastised by McCready.

“May I please hold onto these? I have some personal matters that these may appease. I swear only my eyes will see these words.”

“Knight Officer Haught, I am commanding you to hand them over,” Augustine repeated with an even more demanding tone. Her dark eyes were like a void, their severity thickening the tense air that already clouded the room. Nicole glanced at Wynonna for help, receiving no reaction to the scene unfolding before her. “There should be no hesitation to my order, soldier.”

“No.”

“Wynonna,” she shifted to her niece with an expectant nod.

She approached her friend, reaching for the satchel until Nicole tugged it out of reach. “Don’t do this, Nicole.”

“What is going on? Why can’t I study these? I just need a day with them, then they can be destroyed,” the young knight pleaded.

“We cannot trust that you may not copy them, Haught,” Gareth ruthlessly explained.

“This may be the only chance for me to find out who I am, please, just twenty-four hours, and I’ll destroy them in front of you.” Seanan glanced at Nicole with somber eyes before looking at his friends. “Shorty, please!”

“Wynonna,” Augustine commanded.

Doing as her aunt commanded, the older sister tugged at her satchel once more, trying to unbutton it to retrieve the books. Nicole shoved her away with a firm hand against her sternum before racing to the safety of her chambers. She heard loud footsteps echo down the corridor, gaining speed and encroaching upon her as Nicole fumbled with figuring out which door was hers.

“Nicole!” she hissed in the darkness. “Wait!” She firmly took her wrist and yanked her from the door. “Stop.”

“I need these, you know I do. It’s the only way I can find out who I am, what Bulshar has to do with me.”

“Stop,” she commanded in a louder tone. Wynonna glanced around their position and whispered, “Find some random journals to burn instead of Svane’s. I don’t understand their significance either, but obviously, there’s dirt in there about the Earps that they don’t want to see the light of day.”

“Fine, but I am not going to hand them over,” Nicole finished, rushing to the other side of her door and locking it. She rested her head against the old wood, waiting for Wynonna’s footsteps to fade away.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nicole walked down the main street, feeling as if everyone was looking at her. She clutched her satchel tightly, glancing at her surroundings to search for John. With the previous night’s concerning meeting, she wondered even more about Wynonna’s reflection if Robert was a purely bad person. He may have ruled his people as a dictator, but were his people or his action in the wrong? Haught pinched the bridge of her nose and continued to Shorty’s inn, catching Holliday playing dice. He and his opponent were playing for peanuts as the mere achievement of beating John Henry was enough to build a good rapport with the middleman. Nicole patiently waited for the game to end to question him.

Beating out yet another young farmer, John turned to his colleague, “Would you like to try your hand, dear knight?”

“I have some other things in mind. What do you know about the Revenants, who are their allies? Who were they as a people?”

“Are,” Holliday corrected, flipping his dice to show the same number of pips. “But this isn’t the safest place to talk about them. I swindled some extra coin, why don’t we share a pint. I think we all deserve a drink for the horrors we endured. What do you say?”

“I would say I need a beer,” she huffed, calling over the barmaid for a round of ale.

“Why the sudden interest?”

“Maybe I feel remorseful for the deaths we totalled.”

“I hope this doesn’t offend you, Dame Haught, but you would be terrible at poker.”

“It does, but it stands true,” she smirked as they were served. “I do, however, think that we may have made a mistake and now I am being scapegoated.”

“How?”

Nicole pondered how much she should divulge before answering, “I spoke with a few of the town's elders and now I may be a target of future harassment.”

“What do you suppose you’ll do about it?”

“I’m not sure.” Haught briefly paused and looked up at John. “I have many questions for you, Holliday.”

“Ask again in a more private venue,” he warned. “That is if it pertains to your initial question.”

“It does.”

“Day drinking, I see,” Wynonna interrupted. “Can I speak with you, Haught?”

“Can it wait until I’m done with this?”

“Yes,” she nodded, plucking the stein out of her hands and finishing it off for her. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Nicole huffed in annoyance. “I’ll be seeing you around, John.”

“I would hope so,” he briefly nodded as a new opponent came to try their hand.

“Did you really have to chug my beer, it was free.”

“Wait, I’ll explain later.”

“I miss when everything was public knowledge.”

Wynonna nodded in agreement as they silently walked to her office where she produced several old novels she had taken from various rooms in the manor.

“Hide Svane’s journals… somewhere and have these ones on hand for when we burn them,” she explained.

Nicole took the stack and asked, “Do you have any further explanation for why your aunt is so protective about these?”

“No, but I really do not want to be on her bad side, and neither should you.”

“Yeah, Lady McCready, is, uhh… fucking scary,” she agreed on her way out. “Thank you.”

Nicole went through her room and began tearing through the various bookcases to hide the real journals. She wrapped them up and placed them under the bed, now going back through their spots to blend them in with the other books. It was an obvious place but hidden well enough that even Nicole knew that she would have to search through the novels to find Svane’s. She popped up from her spot by the bed when Waverly entered, going straight to the wardrobe.

“My dear Orsino,” she called out, making Waverly jump.

“Oh! What are you doing? Wait, you’re sober right? Not playing drunk hide-n-seek again?”

“Sober, yes. Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes, I was going out for a ride, would you like to join me?” she invited, approaching her partner.

“I wish I could,” Nicole smiled, standing back up and pecking her. “But I still need to talk with John, you know, figure out some truths… but maybe another day.”

“Okay, I’m going to hold you to that, then.”

“I hope you will,” she smiled, anxiety finally leaving her system when Waverly wrapped her arms around her waist. Nicole took a deep breath even as her heart fluttered when she glanced down to peck her forehead. “But I must speak with John, so I would love to help you get ready and ride out of town.”

“Is he expecting you at a specific time?”

Nicole sucked her teeth then remarked, “No, he is not, Gary isn’t needing your assistance any time soon?” Waverly backed away to lock their door with a cheeky grin on her lips. “Alright then.”

“Are you sure you need to go?” Waverly bargained

“While I would love to spend all day with you, I really do want to get some answers out of Holliday,” her partner blushed even as she was trapped between the desk, hands still gently meandering over her ribs and chest. Coaxed into another amorous kiss, Nicole chuckled against her lips as she was pressed into the desk again. “Okay, okay, I need to leave before it gets dark.”

They dressed back into their outer clothes, Waverly now dawned in her riding attire. “Just a quick question, because I hate to ruin a moment, but are you okay? You seemed a bit shaken by last night’s… whatever that was.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Nicole affirmed, slinging the satchel over her shoulder and standing before the door. “I love you, just so you know.”

“I love you, too.”

“I mean it,” she smiled on her way out.

“Wait, I thought you were going to ride out with me?”

“Another time.”

She found her way back through the manor and to the main street, spotting John talking with a young bath maid. Nicole felt a sudden tug on her shoulder, making her wheel around, face to face with the reigning lady of their land. Wynonna had a firm grasp on the satchel, looking up with a weirdly calm demeanor. Haught pulled the satchel back with surprising difficulty.

“What are you doing?” she questioned with another tug.

“Staging a fight,”

#wynonna earp #wayhaught #waverly earp #nicole haught #knight au #renaissance au #wayhaught fanfic #wynonna earp fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #wlw #lgbt #lesbian #sfw fanfic #sfw

4 notes · View notes

myheartrevealedocs · 4 years ago

Text

Untouchable Ch 15- Help

Warnings: swearing, drugs

Ch 14 | Ch 16

~ ~ ~

Another few weeks of silence. Lydia got a few calls from the team during the first week, but slowly they thinned out and disappeared.

She dropped herself onto the couch after her shift at a nearby coffee shop. It wasn’t the ideal job, but she needed some form of income to pay rent until she was out of school.

Her professor and her were discussing getting her teaching credentials and getting experience as a student teacher before she retired. The plan was to have her prepared by the upcoming spring semester, still 10 months away.

That was it. She was going to be a teacher. It was a fine career path, especially for someone of her age. And she had time to do something else if it truly didn’t suit her.

Lydia’s eyes grew heavy and she was just thinking about leaving her grad school work for another day, when someone knocked on her door.

Huffing, she picked herself up once more and checked the peephole. Gideon was hovering outside.

“Did Garcia give you my address?” Lydia asked bluntly, not even fully opening up the door,

“Yes.” He looked relieved to see her and Lydia wondered for a moment if Hotch had actually told the team she died. “May I come in?”

She rolled her eyes, but swung the door open, walking back to her couch. “Feel free to sit. I’ve got nowhere to be.”

“Thank you.”

There was a chair beside the couch, which he quickly took advantage of. And then he watched her, closely. He watched her close up her computer, pull her legs underneath her, and wait patiently for him to say something. He watched her for some sort of sign that she was happy, upset, or confused to see him there. But she just looked bored.

“You didn’t tell me that you were leaving,” he began, his voice soft.

Lydia shrugged. “You weren’t my boss. Hotch was.”

“That’s not why I care.” He leaned forward resting his forearms on his knees. “Did you think I was going to try to convince you to stay?”

“Were you?”

“Would you have stayed if I had?”

She looked away, shutting her eyes briefly. “I should hope I know what’s better for me than you do.”

“People love things that aren’t good for them,” he argued. “No one at the BAU enjoys their job. There’s… something else about it that keeps us there.”

“There’s nothing to keep me there anymore. Enough said.”

He paused again, watching her posture. It had tightened, but still she gave up nothing.

“You’re such a good actress. If I didn’t know you so well, I wouldn’t be able to tell that you were scared.”

“Scared?” she demanded, biting back a chuckle. Normally Jason frightened her with how well he did his job. But saying she was scared? No way.

“Of course.” His responses were so nonchalant, that she couldn’t bring herself to argue until she knew what had him so convinced. “Hotch told me that something happened between you and Reid. I’m sorry. I know you two were close. But I also know that the only time you back away from something is when you know you aren’t emotionally ready for it. Not because you’re afraid of anyone else, but because you are scared of yourself. You think you’re a naturally violent person, Lydia. When you and Reid had a fight, you thought you might go too far and someone would get hurt.”

“Amazing job,” she said sarcastically. “Stellar profile. Except that if I was going to quit anyway, why hold back?”

“There’s something more to it. You're not worried about those consequences. There must be other consequences. Does he have something on you?”

Did he? He knew more about her than anyone on the team. Was she actually afraid of anything she told him?

“Sure. He has my trust and I don’t have his. I thought I did, but he made it abundantly clear that I mean nothing to him. So yes... sure… I left because Reid made me feel unwelcome. And yes, I’m afraid that if I become too involved in the team again, he might threaten me or ruin my relationship with the other agents. But maybe, in the end, I quit because I realized that there might be better things out there. Better people.”

“Reid cares about you so much. You probably are the person he trusts the most on the team… That’s why I need your help.”

Help? Was he joking?

Lydia laughed though she was in no way amused by the prospect. “With him? Why? Is he being an asshole to you, too? Maybe everyone on the team should consider leaving him to his own devices. You did say once that if we compared our skills to Reid, he’d run the team on his own. Why not let him?”

“Lydia, Reid’s not an asshole. He’s a genuinely good person. But he’s acting out emotionally because he feels abandoned by the team. Tell me that you can’t understand that.”

Shit. He was right about that. That sounded just like her when her father got arrested. Lashing out, driving others away, demanding justice. Maybe she was the asshole here… But there was no way she could bring herself to admit that.

“I’m not seeking out someone who’s only going to hurt me. Maybe he does need help. But I’m not his mother. I have my own life to lead.”

He sighed, audibly. Knowing him, it was probably all part of his act. Gideon taught her well to manipulate suspects. “I just came here because I thought… I wanted you to understand him a bit better.”

“Well, thanks.” Lydia stood up from her couch, headed towards the door to not-so-subtly tell him to leave. “Now I can know that he hates my guts and feel like an asshole for not being the first person to try and make up. Goodbye, Gideon.”

When he got up, he just stared at her for a moment, not wanting to leave on such a bad note. “Please… please talk to me soon, okay?”

Not wanting to look like he’d caused her to feel as conflicted as she did, she rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah… Sure I’ll do that,” before walking him out.

~ ~ ~

“-and Beck claims she’s close to committing a murder.”

“She used to find it endearing,” Lydia replied, laughing with Sonia. “Lydie and Becky. She thought the rhyming was cute.”

“That’s because they always said it together. Now they run around the house yelling ‘Becky! Becky!’ and she screams ‘Don’t call me that!’”

Lydia could hear her sister complaining from across the country. She never liked being called Becky until the twins came along. To everyone else it was Beck or Rebecca. That was how Lydia and Sonia knew she liked them. She put up with it for them.

And then, they turned eight.

“She insists they’re doing it on purpose. She says she can just tell by their tone of voice that they’re mocking her.”

“To be honest, who’s to say they’re not?”

Sonia chuckled. “Yeah, they’re kind of a lot. Why did I agree to take in twins?”

“Because you’re a good person,” Lydia said.

It was true. The foster care system wasn’t kind to siblings. Especially older siblings, who struggled to get adopted. Sonia took in her and Rebecca knowing that they would be separated otherwise. And then, she was told about the twins, two toddlers, and her heart just couldn’t let them lose one another.

There was a soft knocking at Lydia’s door. She figured it was Gideon again, here to check up on her, so she decided to say her goodbyes.

“Make sure they know that their gifts are on the way! Sorry I fell so far behind!”

“Take care of yourself, honey. They aren’t even worried about the gifts they were so excited to get to talk to you on the phone.”

“Miss you all loads!”

As she put her phone down, there was another knock, this time, somehow, even more timid.

Standing, she peaked out the peephole and almost shrieked in surprise, throwing the door open before she could think better of it.

“Spencer…?” Lydia did a quick sweep of the hallway for anyone else. “Can I help you?”

His head was hung low, occasionally glancing up at her before dropping it again. “Yeah, I… May I come in?”

That’s what set off the alarms in her mind. His voice was a hoarse mirror of it’s usual self and the fact that he wouldn’t look at her made her think he’d been crying. Whatever caused him to show up here, it wasn’t about their relationship. This was about him.

He needed someone. And although, after everything, she wasn’t sure why he’d come here, she stepped out of the way and let him in.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

She saw him shuffle over to the couch, then made over to her kitchen to get him some water. She didn’t know what was wrong with him. She doubted he’d be so inclined to tell her. But obviously he’d been through a lot and she knew the basics of how to handle someone in this state: water, blanket, patience, distraction.

He didn’t speak as she handed the glass to him. His mouth moved as if to thank her, but if he did, it wasn’t audible. He was frightened, it seemed.

Maybe something had happened on a case. Someone had gotten hurt. Maybe it was just nightmares from the kidnapping over a month ago. She didn’t even consider the thing he might be scared of was her. Speaking to her.

“Spencer, if you need me to talk you off some ledge, I’ll do it,” she started. “I’ll stand there and hold you up before you step away from the drop willingly. But I’m not sure what to say.”

His eyes were wet. Not full tears yet, but it terrified Lydia to know what he wanted to tell her.

“I’m- I’m not… Lydia, I’ve done-“ He fumbled desperately for the right way to say this to Lydia, but came up empty. There was no way to say this. Frustrated, he reached for his sleeve and ripped it up at high as it would go.

Lydia felt sick as she recognized what was afflicting him. There were red needle markings and bruises inside his elbow.

“Oh my god, Spencer. What is it?”

“You know that I wouldn’t have-“

“No! God no, Spencer! You don’t have to defend yourself!” she cried. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’m here to help you, not judge you. But you have to tell me what it is.”

Her fingers ghosted over the abused skin. He wanted more than anything for there to be another reason he was here. With her. He wished he’d had some other excuse to come see her. For her to hold him.

But he’s gotten himself into this whole fucking mess and there wasn’t another reason. He was here because he needed help and she was only agreeing because that’s the kind of person she was.

“Dilaudid.”

She bit down on her bottom lip. Fuck. “Okay. And Spencer? Are you here to get help or because you need to get it off your chest? I’m glad you told me, I really am, but if you aren’t planning to stop, I think you should find comfort elsewhere.”

It felt so harsh that she regretted it the instant the words left her mouth. But it was true. If Spencer wasn’t committed to getting clean, he wouldn’t be able to. And she wasn’t going to waste her energy on someone who wasn’t trying to be better.

“I need help. I thought I could figure this out by myself, but I… I don’t know anymore. I lose my will and I feel helpless and I thought you might… I thought you might understand. I know that’s horrible to assume, but with your family history I thought-”

“You aren’t assuming anything, Spencer,” she informed him. “You’re right. I know a lot about addiction and drugs and your brain chemistry right now. So, I’m going to be completely honest with you. I will help you, no questions asked. I won’t tell anyone unless absolutely necessary. And you don’t need to apologize or explain yourself. But if I feel you stop caring about getting clean or if I find out you’re using me for sympathy, that all goes away. I can’t help someone without… determination.”

He grabbed her hand suddenly. “I promise I’m determined. So determined. Please… Please fix me.”

Her heart tore to shreds. He was begging. Desperate. He truly felt alone.

But at least she was sure he’d get through this.

“You’re going to stay here for the next few days, at least,” she ordered. “The nights are going to be the most difficult right after going sober. If you can call in sick with Hotch, do that. Because the next few days are going to be hell if you don’t have any time to yourself.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll, uh… I’ll tell Hotch that I can’t come in for the next few days.”

“Good.” She sighed. “Once you’re sober, we can work through how to deal with the cravings. But for now, I want you to keep track of your symptoms and let me know what’s going on so I can help. Even if it’s just a hot flash in the middle of the night, I want you to tell me immediately.”

“Lydia, I…”

She paused her rambling, waiting for him to tell her she was overwhelming him. She felt overwhelmed herself, but then again, this was not how she expected her night to go.

“...thank you.”

Her heart missed a beat, but she pulled herself back onto track, rolling her eyes. “What did you think? I was going to send you away because you were mean to me? We aren’t children, Reid. I’m willing to-”

“I was on it then, too,” he whispered. “The dilaudid. Tobias gave it to me to help me deal with the torture. That’s why I got mad at you… It wasn’t because I thought you had abandoned me. Or because I thought you didn’t care. I was just… I knew I was messed up. That I wasn’t going to get over this. And I wanted to keep it away from you. I know that it doesn’t work like that, but I wanted you to know now that none of that anger stemmed from something you had done. It was on me. All me.”

“It wasn’t… totally your fault.” Lydia started to categorize her thoughts. What had really happened that night?

She had felt guilty for leaving him and going back to California. She was terrified after hearing he’d been taken hostage by a dangerous unsub. And the stress of leaving Sonia, if only for a few days, had her stomach in knots.

And from Spencer’s perspective, he was overcome by guilt. He’d felt indebted to Tobias, who went against his father (or the version of his father that he inhabited)’s wishes in order to save his life. And in return, Spencer had to kill him. Throw into the mix an intense craving for heroin and he wasn’t exactly in the mood for calm debate.

“I’m so sorry that I was insensitive to your feelings,” Lydia apologized. “At the time I wasn’t prepared to hear what you had to say and I reacted harshly… We’re too stubborn, you and I.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, more than said. “Either way, I can’t believe what I said to you. And I don’t deserve your forgiveness or help. I just… I couldn’t tell the team and you were the only other person I trusted with this stuff.”

“You’re already forgiven, Spencer. Don’t worry. I know what these… things do to people. I’ve said worse to my sister and my father and my foster mom. Believe me, you get a pass for this one.”

She smiled at him and he hesitantly returned it.

“So… I think we should start by having you grab some stuff from your place, because I wasn’t kidding. While we get you sober, I want you to stay here.”

“Okay… Yeah, let’s do that.”

“And you’re going to call Hotch?’

“Yeah. I’ll tell him I’ve got the flu.”

The trip was quick and before she knew it, Lydia was back in her own apartment. Her and Spencer spent the rest of the evening talking about the cases he worked while she was gone and what she was up to in California. Lydia was glad they could fall back into being comfortable with one another. Friendly, even.

She still avoided her conversation with her father, not sure how to bring up his imprisonment to Spencer, especially now that Spencer had his own problems.

It was growing later, the two of them having drifted off into their own minds on the couch.

“You were too good for me, Lydia,” he said out of the blue. “I couldn’t stand not feeling worthy of you anymore.”

“‘We accept the love we think we deserve,’” she quoted.

“That was profound,” he muttered.

“It’s Stephen Chbosky,” she explained. “The Perks of Being a Wallflower.”

“I don’t know it.”

She gasped loudly. “You don’t know The Perks of Being a Wallflower? But Reid, it’s a classic!” She held up a hand quickly. “-And I don’t want to argue about the definition of ‘classic’ right now. Just trust me, it’s good… I think I brought my copy with me.”

Lydia got up, wandering into her room to look for the small novel. It sat in the middle of a stack of books on her bedside table. Smiling, she slipped it out, flipping through the pages fondly.

A thought struck her and she walked back to the door of her room to speak with him again.

“Get in the bed.”

Spencer blinked up at her, looking shocked. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“No,” she chuckled. “I’m going to read you to sleep, doctor. Get into bed.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, his cheeks tinted pink. “I was going to sleep on the couch…”

“Have you seen your legs?” she demanded. “You wouldn’t fit on the couch with your knees touching your chin. Just sleep in my bed and stop whining. You asked for my help and now you can’t escape me.”

“Clearly,” he replied, but there was amusement in his eyes.

He grabbed his things and went to get changed into something more comfortable for sleep. Then, he slowly crawled underneath the covers beside her.

At first, he sat up against the headboard with her, but Lydia shook her head. “You aren’t going to sleep like that.”

“This feels wrong, Lydia. We aren’t dating.”

“Do you think I’m going to take advantage of you,” she joked. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll sleep on the couch, but you are sleeping here, and that’s final. Now then, lay down.”

He did as she asked, sliding down so that he was fully horizontal. “I won’t be able to sleep,” he complained. “When I’m listening to something I give it all of my focus. I’ve never been able to sleep when my mom read to me.”

“Alright. We’ll read a little bit. A few pages, that’s all. And then we can both try to get some sleep. Will you finally stop your whining so I can begin?”

He looked a little startled by her insistence, but finally nodded for her to continue.

“‘August 25, 1991,’” she read. “‘Dear friend, I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn’t try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have. Please don’t try and figure out who she is because then you might figure out who I am, and I really don’t want you to do that…’”

~ ~ ~

The first two days were the hardest. Spencer didn’t get any sleep the first night, shaking and sweating fitfully. It had just hit the afternoon the next day when the nausea started. He stayed in the bathroom for most of the day. Lydia wrapped a blanket around him and brought him cold glasses of water and warm tea to help relax him.

At one point, she found him crying from the stomach cramps, his arms wrapped around himself protectively.

But after another day, his withdrawal symptoms had peaked and the rest was just cravings and an underlying uncomfortable feeling. Every night, she read him a few of the letters in The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

He didn’t understand it. Not really. The main character, Charlie, contradicted himself a lot and danced around explaining hard topics, but Spencer still listened to her intently. She read it the same way she talked about her family. Her eyes glazed over slightly, her voice hesitant, fitting for the character.

After the first two days, he had to go back into work. Lydia sent him with a ton of painkillers to get him through the day without his brain exploding. And once he was done for the day, he’d end up right back at her door.

“Now that you’re sober,” Lydia had told him, “the biggest challenge will be the cravings. It’s really common for people to relapse. If you feel like relapsing, no matter the place or time, I want you to call me. And even if you do relapse, don’t be afraid to tell me. I’m here to help, remember?”

And she was. She was helping so much.

...and he was starting to reach a point where he wished she wasn’t.

He missed her. He missed her like hell. He missed walking around the park with her. He missed her ordering ice cream for them so that he didn’t have to interact with the cashiers. He missed the way she tousled his hair after kissing him. He even missed working with her.

“I didn’t just leave for you,” she had tried to assure him. “When I went back home, I realized that working for the FBI caused me to miss a lot. I didn’t mind at the time, missing a Christmas or birthday with them. But they deserve more from me.”

“I wish you would come back,” he admitted.

She just laughed. “You told me to pursue this opportunity to become a professor. It’s a good job. I’m excited for it.”

Every moment he was with her, he missed her more.

Asking her out now wasn’t fair to her. She might feel compelled to agree because of the fragile state he was in.

After coming back from his first case since getting sober, he went to stay with her again, excusing it as the stress of the job making him want company just in case. But he was simply in denial about the fact that he still loved her.

Or perhaps denial wasn’t the right word.

Lydia was reading to him that evening, the two of them almost done with the novel, when she realized how tired he was. She wanted to finish up on some grad school work before she went to sleep, so she told him to get some rest and started to go when he called her back.

“Yes?”

“I just… I love you, Lydia,” he mumbled sleepily.

Her whole body froze, her stomach tightening uncomfortably. “Spencer?”

He smiled, his eyes still shut. “Yeah?”

Maybe she’d misheard him? He was far too tired to be thinking sensibly. She shook her head and started to leave, but he peeked an eye open.

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” he asked.

Fuck… was he actually on something? He was acting drunk, but she didn’t think so. He hadn’t been acting weird when he got there so he’d probably just gotten… really, really tired.

“Say what?”

“That you love me? Don’t you… love me?”

It was actually sort of pathetic to hear from him in his distant state. But something possessed her to respond honestly.

“Spencer, I love you so much,” she told him, walking over to where he lay and kneeling beside him. “But you aren’t thinking straight and I don’t want you to say something you regret.”

He shook his head childishly. “I could never regret telling you how I feel unless you don’t love me back.”

Lydia gave him her softest smile and kissed him on the forehead. “We can talk about your feelings tomorrow, all right? Go to bed.”

He hadn’t meant to do it. His exhaustion had won over his common sense. And there was no way to take it back.

But did she mean it?

~ ~ ~

Lydia smiled, hearing Spencer leave the bedroom the next morning. She’d been anxious all night about having this conversation with him, but now that the time was there, a part of her felt relieved to be able to put it all out on the table.

“Do you ever feel like we got together too fast?” she inquired, not looking at him, instead relaxing on the couch.

She could hear him clear his throat awkwardly, probably far more afraid to speak with her than she was.

“No…?” he responded, shyly. “We’d known each other for almost a year when I asked you out. I’ve known people to get married in less time.”

“Not what I meant… Also, can we really call what you did ‘asking me out’?”

“I was the one to ask if you wanted food,” he argued.

“Yeah, and when I asked if it was a date, you got all awkward and said no. I think I asked you, more than you asked me.”

“That’s not fair!” he cried, walking around the couch to face her. “All you did was insist that it was a date!”

She laughed, seeing him all flustered. “Alright, alright. I call it a team effort. How about you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

“Anyways, I don’t mean that we didn’t know each other long enough. I just… were we ready? You spent the whole time fretting about me being in the field and I was so worried about keeping your secret that I didn’t tell my family-- who live in California-- about you! A healthy relationship isn’t built on fear and that’s all we made ours. Fear.”

“I didn’t mean to make you scared,” he worried. “I just couldn’t stand the whole… the whole conversation. The whole ‘we’re dating: Here’s a look into our personal lives’ thing.”

“I respect that!” she said, quickly. “I didn’t need the team to know. But after we broke up, all I could think about was how much wanting to make you happy affected me. I know better now. If you weren’t happy around me being myself, it wouldn’t be a good relationship. Haven’t you learned anything?”

“Don’t yell at your girlfriend?” he tried. “Don’t tell me that worrying about you was wrong, because I’m always going to worry. It’s who I am.”

“I guess my point is, if we were together, would you let me keep working in the field? Would you be comfortable with that? Because when we got together, I thought that was part of the deal. I wouldn’t expect you to risk or stop yourself from doing your job for me and I expected the same. And yet, every time I got back from something dangerous, you would act as if I was being stupid and I should never do it again-”

“No! No, no.” He began repeating himself, his fingers tugging at his hair by the roots. “I never wanted you to- It’s just that this job is… I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

She smiled at him, standing up to meet him at… well almost at eye level.

“That’s all I want, Spencer. I want us to be happy. Not afraid of our relationship. I want to be me and not worry about how to make you happy, because you already are. I mean, I’m so happy with you. You just being you.”

“Does this mean… you’re serious? You actually want to get back together?”

“Unless you have a compelling reason not to,” she teased.

Lydia was so distracted by the look of excitement in his eyes, she barely even noticed him getting closer until his lips were pressed against hers.

“Woah,” she mumbled, barely pulling away an inch. “Right to it, then?”

“I’ve wanted to do that for two months,” he admitted. “I really missed you.”

She gave him another peck. “I missed you, too, dumbass.”

~ ~ ~

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @spencerelds, @anotherr-fine-mess

#criminal minds #cm #Spencer reid #Spencer reid x oc #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds oc #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm oc #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #oc #Jason gideon #untouchable #untouchable ch15 #Lydia ambers

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

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Wow, here we are at the end of Mermay 2020! Welcome to those of you who've joined either for or during Mermay! It's lovely to have you along.

I've written a total of 35,390 words for you just with these five Mermay stories alone! Thank you for your comments, and I hope you've enjoyed them, and I hope you are looking forward to June. As I've said before, I've taken what Patrons said to me in the feedback form into account, and I'm hoping to bring in some of that from next month!

Next up though is a short part two to ooze boy Tokis' story, as selected by the person who got the thank you story for filling in the feedback form.

Anyway, here's my last Mermay offering for you, and it's a long'un!

Contents: female reader (though that only comes up at the nsfw bit at the end), an older, gruff male selkie with a reputation for being frightening, and some bit-parts including an old harpy, some fluffy satyrs, and an extra fluffy minotaur. Nsfw content (because someone asked for more info on this before we get going): kissing, vaginal fingering, reader receiving oral, hand job, very very minor come-play...) Words: 7938

Chunky preview:

“Weather’s getting worse,” the old harpy croaked as you shouldered your bag and prepared to head home a little earlier that day.

“I’ll be careful,” you smiled.

Grenna ruffled her wings and snorted. “I can feel it in my feathers, child,” she said. “You go straight home. Don’t you stop off at that fairy pool and talk to the frogs all afternoon, you hear me? You get home to your family.”

Your already fond smile stretched wider. She knew you too well.

The mountain air was thin and fresh this high up, and as you practically skipped through the wide stone streets of the trading town, you revelled in the way the sunlight flashed on the dark golden stones of the buildings hunkered down in the natural hollow of the hillside. Centuries ago, it had once been nothing more than a collection of sheepherders’ huts, but as the trade between the nations had flourished, it had grown and grown until it had become the bustling market hub it was today, along the wide, winding road between neighbouring kingdoms.

Although peace had settled like a luxuriating housecat between the two nations, the town guard had eventually formed to protect the interests of the merchants and hauliers, and it had attracted some of the best soldiers from across both kingdoms. Dotted here and there throughout the steep, winding streets, they usually greeted passers by with nods or gruff good mornings, but never Galar.

He was one that the townsfolk feared; whose name mothers would hiss in frustration at their misbehaving children, only to find those children rapidly coming to heel, afraid of the guard with the eyes that shone like blood in certain lights and who had once - it was said - thrown a centaur right off the parapet of the town walls on the eastern side of the town where the valley careened away into a rocky gorge. You’d never actually met him, but everyone knew his name and what he looked like, and what his reputation for violence was.

No one seemed to know what he was though. If the centaur story was anything to go by, it was plain he couldn't be a mere human, though he looked it for the most part. Some suspected he was a lycan, though the small guild of werewolves in the town swore up and down he wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t be a vampire, despite the reddish eyes, because he could often be seen standing sentry at the main gates in full sun, apparently not bothered in the least by the weight and heat of his plate and mail guard’s armour. His ears weren’t pointed - in fact they were gnarled and bashed, like the cauliflower ears of fighters in the gladiatorial rings up north - so he was unlikely to be some kind of Fae.

You’d always entertained the notion that perhaps he was one of the elusive werebears said to populate the forests of the west, but it wasn’t as if you knew much about anything beyond the textiles that Grenna and you sold in the market place and from her little shop around the corner from the barracks. The old harpy had grown fond of you in a grandmotherly way, and had even sponsored you to apprentice for a tailor and dressmaker up in the exclusive Fountain District. With an apprenticeship with Alivia Silverscale under your belt, you could have gone to work for almost any dressmaker in the capital, but you had no grand designs for a career amid the wealthiest nobles in the city. You didn’t even like living in the small town of Drumcarrick so the idea of moving to the heave and bustle of a proper city made you shudder. Sewing costumes for the Merchants’ Guild Summer Ball was probably the highlight of your working year though.

Trotting down the hill and stepping out through the protective bulwark of the town gates, the icy blast of the spring wind caught you full in the face and you almost laughed. Free as a condor, you passed under the wide arch, smiling at one of the guards who watched you go, and headed out along the flagstone road.

It wasn’t long before you reached the lone, thunder-blasted tree that marked an old sheep track leading up through the rocks, and you scrambled up it and paused halfway up to catch your breath. Leaning against a boulder, you turned to look out over the valley that lay beneath you in a dizzying tableau of greens and blues and greys. Your breath caught as you saw storm clouds roiling at the far end of the steep-sided mountain pass. The weather here was not something to be trifled with or ignored, and you guessed you had perhaps an hour before the rain would hit.

For now, the slopes of the rocky mountains were bathed in brilliant sunshine, and as you scampered up the hillside, scattering the odd startled wild sheep with a chuckling apology, you knew there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

The old ‘fairy pond’ that Grenna had warned you not to go to lay nestled in a small crook of rock about halfway up between Drumcarrick and the cloud-crowned mountain peak, and it was only fifteen minutes or so out of your way back to the cave home where you’d been born and where you now lived with a small family of bighorn satyrs. Most people who were not native to the area thought of caves as dark and dank, with dripping, algae-slimed walls and cold, stale air, but yours was nothing like that.

People had lived in homes like yours for generations up here, with stone outer walls built across the gaping maws of ancient caves, caulked with moss and rendered on the inside with clay to keep the drafts out and the warmth in, and on the inside they were decorated with wooden floorboards and thick, sheep wool rugs. A huge hearth had been built into the rock at the centre of the long narrow space, and a chimney drilled out of the rock and capped with a metal cover to keep the animals and the weather out. It was the loveliest place on earth, except perhaps for the fairy pond.

Legend had it that the tiny, deep pool had once been a kelpie’s home, but if it had, none lived there now. It plunged unknowably deep, its waters mirror-dark, though it was perhaps only fifty decent strides around its circumference, ringed around with meadowsweet and sedges, marsh marigold and water crowfoot. However, as you made your way towards it that day, heading up towards the narrow cleft in a boulder that then led to the small pool, a huge figure loomed out of the rocks right in front of you and came to a sudden halt, towering over you.

You shrieked, more out of surprise at finding someone else there than anything else, and toppled backwards, staggering and scrambling, desperate not to lose your footing and go tumbling down the hillside like a stray stone idly kicked. A massive hand shot out and grabbed your arm, yanking you right off your feet but stopping you from falling.

Turning your eyes to the face of your rescuer, you gasped. Scar-flecked as an old battle axe, and twice as strong, the figure still holding you aloft like a dangling puppy had to be Galar. His eyes weren’t the demonic, scarlet red they’d been painted by town folklore and gossip, but were in fact an extremely rich, warm brown, flecked with copper highlights. The moment he realised you were staring at him, his rough hand let go of you and you dropped to land awkwardly on your feet on the steep, narrow path in front of him.

“Sorry,” you laughed once you’d found your balance. “And thank you. You startled the life out of me. I… I thought I was the only one who came here.”

Without a word, he pushed past you, sending you staggering back against a nearby rock, and you watched him stump down the path back towards the town. A silvery animal skin lay draped across his broad shoulders, the same hue as his salt and pepper hair. Galar was clean-shaven, but seemed to have a heavy shadow around his rough-hewn, anvil jaw, and the brows which lowered over his russet-brown eyes were thick and scowling, also sprinkled with a silvery grey. He looked to be in his early forties, if you were measuring him by human standards, and with his rough-hewn features, dark skin, and immense strength, you were surprised to find that Galar didn’t look like the monster he’d been made out to be at all. In fact, he was rather attractive.

In the wake of his departure, you simply stood there, dumb and motionless as the rocks all around you, until finally you shivered and looked up to see the first drops of rain spattering down on the sun-warmed rocks below. The water of the fairy pool behind you churned softly, as though still lamenting the absence of a recent bather, but you decided against taking an icy bath that day.

Skittering back down the path, racing the rain, you ran for home.

Read the whole thing right now, as well as the Mermay 2020 posts (five in total, including extra artwork) and a surprise, nsfw ‘ghost lover’ story, plus everything that’s been posted already on Patreon!

#exophilia #mermay #selkie #leopard seal selkie #slightly older character #male monster #female reader

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a-vintage-snake · 4 years ago

Text

Fear and Delight

Pairing(s): Pre-romantic Dukeceit

First chapter - Previous chapter - Next chapter

Warnings: Child abuse, dirty humor, basically Remus is Very Thirsty™ for that Snake Booty Characters: Janus “Deceit” Sanders, Remus Sanders,

Summary: What exactly happened in the year that Remus disappeared?

Word Count: 9072

Author’s Note: SO. That new episode, AM I RIGHT?? I absolutely loved it, instant fave! That being said, I have considered going back and change Deceit to Janus, but instead I decided to work his name reveal into the story as a plot point. So don't worry, we will be getting snake boi's name into the story eventually, it will just take a while. A loooong while.

People who were asked to be tagged: @avocados26, @fandoms-will-collide @nottoonormalme, @bihighandgivinghighfives, @atticusfinchthelegend, @hekking-happy-nonsense, @lockmcduckwoodchuck

If you want to be removed or added to the taglist, just ask!

Read on AO3

One year ago…

When Remus and his brother had been little, their nanny had often read to them before bed. Stories about daring adventures, defeating monsters and love at first sight. Roman had always sighed dreamily at the last part, romantic little shit that he was. Remus on the other hand would just roll his eyes, yell ‘BORING!!’ and demand that their nanny go back to the part about monster slaying.

Now Remus wanted to kick himself for not paying more attention, cause seriously? How the fuck did those characters deal with love at first sight???

Not as if any tips would have helped in those first moments, when he had openly stared at quite possible the single most drop dead gorgeous man he had ever seen. He was distantly aware that the absolute dreamy apparition from the heavens was talking to him in that silky rich voice that made Remus’ knees weak (luckily he was sitting down). Not a single word registered. Remus was just a tad distracted, thank you very much. Honestly, did this guy know how pretty his face was?? This had to be illegal somewhere.

Deceit stopped talking and frowned. Not an unusual thing to happen, people frowned at him all the time. What was unusual was that Deceit leaned forward a bit and gently gripped Remus’ chin with one hand. Remus’ thoughts, usually an unstoppable whirlwind of continuous screaming abruptly came to a screeching halt. Deceit inspected his eyes, slightly tilting Remus’ head from left to right as he did. Remus followed his guiding hand breathlessly, gawking at how Deceit’s scales glittered in the light of the setting sun. He wanted to draw them... Or maybe lick them. Both? Both is good.

“…I definitely used a too potent of a sleeping spell on you,” Deceit sighed as he released his chin. Remus wanted to whine at the loss of contact. “Luckily, that’s just a matter of sleeping it off.” Deceit continued as he rose from the cot and looked down at Remus. “Can you walk?” He asked.

Remus shot up from the cot so fast that he probably sprained something. Fucking hell, if this guy had asked if he could fly he would have immediately jumped out of the window without a doubt. Deceit raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead he walked towards the door, throwing a ‘follow me’ motion over his shoulder. Remus nearly tripped over his own feet as he scrambled to catch up.

Deceit led him out of the door into darkened halls. He snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared in his hand, lighting their path.

The walk was a quiet one. Their footsteps rung in the empty darkness as Remus trailed after the other, wide-eyed and dazed. Remus realized at one point that he had to be in the hidden castle. The one from all the stories, the hideout of one of the most dreaded figures in their country’s history. He had found it… Or rather, he was brought to it. The place everyone feared so much that they avoided the mountains all together.

But who fucking cared about that nonsense?? Certainly not Remus! All he could focus on was the back of the warlock’s head and those beautiful fluffy curls. His fingers were itching and twitching to run through those curls, to see if they really were as soft as they looked like. In fact, his hand already stretched out-

“Here we are,” Deceit interrupted Remus’ musings and he quickly snapped his hand back. They had reached a door in the time where Remus was slowly loosing his mind. Deceit opened and held the door open for him. “These will be your chambers for the duration of your stay.” He said.

Remus stared dumbly at him. “My chambers…?” He repeated a little dumbfounded.

“Yes.” Deceit nodded. Remus looked between the warlock and the open door uncertainly.

“…You’re not going to… Throw me into a dungeon…?” Remus asked dubiously. Deceit tilted his head.

“Why? Would you prefer that?”

…Was he messing with him? Remus honestly couldn’t tell. The warlock’s expression was impossible to read; it was quite an impressive poker face he got there. Realizing he had no hope of forming a somewhat intelligent answer to that, Remus looked away from those mismatched (absolutely alluring, could stare in them for hours) eyes and walked into the room.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect… No, that was lie. Remus knew exactly what he had expected. A torture chamber perhaps, maybe with some various jars with preserved limbs. Or a completely barren cell with one tiny barred window, where he had no choice but to eat his own leg to survive. Not this. Not a perfectly welcoming warm bedchamber, that looked like it was carved into the mountainside rather than built with bricks. A fireplace crackled softly on one side of the room and a comfortable looking poster-bed stood on the other. Large windows showed the peaks of the mountains outside, now black outlines against a quick darkening sky. The view had to be beautiful in daytime. On a small desk near the windows stood a tray with a glass, an elegant carafe filled with crystal clear water and a plate of several assortments of fresh fruit and bread.

Completely baffled Remus stared at the room. He may not have much experience with these types of things, but this is not exactly what he thought a hostage situation would be like.

…Unless he was in one of those steamy romance novels Roman hid underneath his bed and pretended he didn’t read. Oh man, he really, really hoped that was the case.

“You’ll find a bathroom with everything you need through the door on your right,” Deceit said behind him. “Get some more sleep. We’ll talk again in the morning.”

Remus, who had been wholeheartedly distracted, whipped around when he heard the door close. His throat closed up. Ice gripped his veins as he rushed to the door, ready to pound on it, scream-

No no no don’t lock the door don’t lock him up please-!!

One twist on the doorknob and the door flew open, letting Remus tumble out the room in a flurry of unbalanced limbs. He barely avoided tipping over and acquainting his face with the stone floor. He hadn’t… Locked the door?

Perplexed Remus righted himself, staring down the dark empty hallway that greeted him. The warlock was nowhere in sight. What the shit? How did he do that so fast? Was it another one of those disappearing reappearing acts? Or had he turned invisible? Was he staring at Remus right now? Judging him?

Suddenly shockingly aware that he hadn’t shaved (or bathed for that matter) since he left home, Remus quickly retreated back into the chambers that were his now? Apparently?? And threw the door closed with a bang. He leaned against the wood like hell itself was high on his heels. Judging by the way his heart hammered a mile a minute, he would say it was.

Stumbling unsteadily towards the desk near the windows, Remus grabbed the carafe with water and downed half of it in one go. No time to bother with the glass! He was thirsty in more ways than one, and at least this thirst was easily quenchable.

After he had devoured most of the fruit and bread and threw some of the left over water over his head for good measure, Remus felt a bit better. For a few seconds he could even say he was calm… But then he glanced around the room again and remembered his bizarre situation. Flashes of scales and fangs and a voice like velvet rang through his head, and Remus had to muffle a scream into his hands.

Get some more sleep, Deceit had said. But Remus wasn’t tired in the slightest. He just had the longest nap in the history of ever! He felt like he could stay awake until the sun exploded and burnt the world to a crisp little pebble. That’s why he found himself still agitatedly pacing the floor hours later, when the sky outside had turned to a deep pitch black. Remus was pretty sure that he was pacing a hole into the soft rug underneath his feet, but he couldn’t sit still even if he tried.

“Okay. Okay okay okay okay,” Remus muttered. “I’m stuck, in a hidden castle, with quite possibly the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my entire fucking life, no one knows where I am, what the HELL am I going to do???”

It was twelfth time that night that he had started this very conversation with himself, and his brain still hadn’t progressed any further than ‘roll over and play dead’, which was not helping!

“Come oooooooon!!” Remus groaned as he dragged his hands down his face. “I have to do something!”

Nope! No you don’t! You don’t have to do jack shit!

“But have you looked at him??? I would hate myself forever if I don’t at least try to tap that!”

You don’t even know why he keeps you here! For all you know he just wants to use you!

“Fuck, I hope so-!”

Not the fun kind of use, you idiot!

“Oh…” Remus slumped in disappointment.

Look, I know it’s hard-

Remus snorted. “Heheh. Hard.”

FOCUS. You heard the stories! He wants to take over the kingdom! And you’re part of the royal family! He probably just sees you as his stepping stool to the throne!

“Honestly, he could step on me anytime-”

NOT THE POINT. The point is that you’re his enemy… He might be nice to you now, but who’s to say that that will last?

That gave Remus pause. That was unfortunately a good point to consider…

“I guess,” He pondered. “That I’ll have to give him a good reason not to kill me?”

Oh yeah, and how are you gonna do that, genius?

Stopping his pacing on the rug, Remus bit his thumbnail as his mind raced. Good question. How could he get in Deceit’s good graces, so the warlock wouldn’t get rid of him the second he was no use anymore?

…Remus only had to think about that for a few seconds. The answer was pretty obvious.

“Okay, so he might want to use me to for “taking over the kingdom” purposes!” He mused out loud. “But if I, hypothetically,” Remus paused for a second, forcing the next words to fall from his mouth with a tremor. “…Were to willingly help him with that…”

…That would be treason.

“It would be.” Remus agreed. Treason of the highest order. But…

He glanced toward the window. The night made it look like a black hole, or the gaping jaw of a monster ready to devour him. He didn’t know if he could have seen his home from this window in daytime, but it was still out there. Waiting for him to return. So why did that thought make his stomach twist and hurt instead of comfort him?

…What did he owe those fuckers in the castle anyway?

Not much, if he was going to be honest. He had clung on to the fantasy that if he only could have his heroic moment, the world and his family would finally see the errors of their ways and everything would be perfect at last. After that forced little game of truth and dare last night however? That childish lie, which he had held onto with all the desperation of a drowning man, had shattered. Nothing was waiting for him back down the mountain. Fuck, he certainly wouldn’t do it for the happy memories…

“Failure.”

“Disappointment.”

“Why did I even get a brother?”

Remus closed his eyes. Inhaled.

“…I will help the warlock take over the kingdom,” He breathed out. “Fuck them.”

He clenched his hands into fists to suppress the full body shiver that overtook him. There was a small, terrified little part of him screaming not to do this. Mom and dad would be furious. Even more than they had ever been. If they found out that he was involved in this…

“LET ME OUT!! PLEASE I’M SORRY I’LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN I WON’T SPEAK I WON’T THINK I’M SORRY I’M SORRY JUST LET ME OUT PLEASE!!!”

Remus shook his head to rid himself of the memory of trapped stuck why was no one coming please anyone home.

“I’ll just make sure they never know it was me that helped him!” He merrily said, ignoring how his voice wavered. He pushed away the nausea that threatened to overtake him, and focused on his idea. It would be perfect! His family would be turned into feral ferrets or chopped up for potion ingredients or whatever the hell the warlock wanted to do with them, and he… If he played his cards right and got really lucky Deceit might keep him around. He might even be his friend!

Are you sure about that?

Remus winced. Oh great, the voice of reason was here. Remus hated the voice of reason. It always managed to sound just like his parents, his brother and every teacher he ever had at the same time.

I mean, come now. You think he would actually like you?

“He can!” Remus said, but even to himself he didn’t sound very convincing. “I mean, he said there was nothing wrong with me! That I am complete, just the way I am-!”

Oh he certainly told you that… But be honest with yourself. Do you think he would have said those same things if he actually knew you? REALLY knew you?

Remus opened his mouth to protest. His mind scoured for counter arguments. None came. For once his head went deafeningly silent on its own accord.

After a few seconds Remus’ shoulders slumped. He sighed through his nose.

“…no.” Remus said softly.

Exactly. The voice of reason said smugly. No. So why even bother trying? It’s not as if anyone has ever picked you. I mean… Why would they?

He couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. Of course they wouldn’t pick him when Picture Perfect Fairy-tale Prince Charming was there too. He loathed thinking it, but Roman probably wouldn’t have a problem winning the warlock over. No no, he would recite some boring ass poetry, or give him a rose, or some dreadfully boring compliment and wam-bam, thank you ma’am Roman had a magical boyfriend before anyone could blink.

He scowled and kicked at the carpet. It wasn’t fair! Roman always got the best things! Why couldn’t he, for once, just get what he wanted instead of his brother stealing it from him-!

He stopped. A penny dropped in Remus’ head. A thrilling, captivating penny.

“…I can totally win Deceit over.” Remus whispered.

Uh, haven’t you been listening? We’ve never beaten Roman-!

“But that’s just the thing! Roman…” Remus said in slow, cautiously excited realization. “Isn’t here.”

…So?

“So he’s not here to upstage or cock-block me!” Remus’ eyes sparkled. A plan started to take form in his head, in a technicolor whirlwind of party streamers and canon explosions. Roman wasn’t here… It was just he and his sexy rattlesnake. A thousand possibilities suddenly opened up for him.

“I could-! I could woo him!” Remus excitedly said. “Sweep him off his feet! Blow his mind! And hopefully blow something else!”

If he did this right he might actually have a chance! Plus, as far as he knew, Sexy Scales and him really were the only people in this whole castle! No competition! And if he hadn’t had company for a while now, he must- Ooooh damn…

“He must crave the D so bad…” Remus whispered reverently.

That’s all well and good, but what makes you think he would go for YOU of all people?

“That’s where the second part of my plan comes in!” Remus said excitedly. “I am going to channel…” He threw his hands up in a dramatic flourishing pose. “My inner Roman!”

WHAT?? Eeeew, no! Gross! Why???

“No no really, think about it! People don’t like me, true, but everyone loves Roman! He’s got people kissing his ass all the time for some reason!”

Yes, he had never seen Roman without someone (or several someone’s!) grovelling at his feet, begging to ‘pretty please, fart in my direction today oh great and powerful crown prince!!’ or something along that line. Remus had always thought it was disgusting, but right now he needed that energy more than anything.

“This will be perfect! But for this to work I have to imitate mister Floundering Vanilla flawlessly! If I do everything right my beautiful Beau Constrictor will be super-duper impressed and fall hopelessly in love with me in no time! Goodnight, the end, happily ever after!”

…Holy shit that’s BRILLIANT. Good thinking Remus!

“Thank you Remus!” Remus said brightly.

Hmmm, yes, GREAT plan. Except you you’re not really Roman, are you? Even if it works, you’ll inevitably screw up. And once your lover realizes he didn’t get what he signed up for…

Remus however cheerfully ignored the voice of reason as excitement for his plan took over. He threw off his filthy clothes and boots as he dashed to the door that the warlock had pointed out. Behind it he found a bathroom made from black stone, thin lines of gold curling like veins in the dark stone. A grand deep-set bath was carved out in the floor, ceiling high windows giving a perfect view of the dark mountains. Remus’ first instinct was to press his ass against the glass and moon the entire kingdom, but he squashed it down. That’s not something Roman would do, and he was going to be Roman from now on, wasn’t he? Instead he opened the golden taps, and jumped in without waiting for the water to fill the bath up.

With more vigour than he ever had Remus scrubbed away the filth he had build up while traveling. Several golden bottles lined at the tub turned out to be ointments and bath oils, and he lathered all of them into his skin and hair. When he deemed himself clean he sprung from the bath, smelling like a lavender field had thrown up on him. An inspection into a cabinet carved into the wall turned up black towels, a set of clean clothes, toiletries and, surprisingly but thankfully, a razor. He stared at the blade in his hand for a second. Apparently the warlock was not worried at all about giving his hostage a potential weapon.

Deciding not to think to hard about the implications of that, Remus shaved away his three-day scruff meticulously. His moustache received a good trim and he curled the ends up extra fancily. When he finished he gave his naked reflection an appreciative once-over.

“Aw yeah,” He nodded with a satisfied grin. “Ready to seduce a snake!”

The clothes he found were simple, but clean and comfortable. As he slipped into a black pair of breeches and a black blouse with tiny silver buttons he briefly wondered where the warlock got the clothes. Remus sure as hell hadn’t packed up any extras.

…Wait. Were they his? Remus considered that possibility with wide eyes. The pants were a bit snug around his waist…

Running out of the bathroom Remus threw himself onto the bed and screamed into the very soft pillows for a few minutes, lest he be tempted to give the clothes a good sniff. Because that would be weird and not something Roman would do!

When he finally pulled himself together, Remus used a towel to clean his boots as well as he could before putting them back on. He pulled a hand through his damp hair, gave his armpits a testing sniff and smoothed down any wrinkles in his blouse. He took a two-armed candelabra to light his way and threw open the door.

Eagerly Remus walked into the dark halls that awaited him. Ready to grab his destiny by its gorgeous scaled face.

There lived a witch in the woods.

That however was no concern right now for the angry crowd making their way through the forest, torches lightning their path. They had dogs on leashes with them, barking madly.

“The monster is close,” said the leader of the mob. “The dogs can smell it. Spread out! Find it!” With several voices yelling in agreement, the people spread out.

The monster in question was hiding underneath a bush. He held a hand against his mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sobs that kept pouring from him. His back burned, his shirt sickeningly slick with blood. He tried to wipe his tears away, the scales on his hands rubbing painfully against his puffy eyes. He winced when he heard the dogs barking in the distance.

They couldn’t find him. They would drag him back to the town, where they would be. They would hurt him again.

“Sit still, you filthy little beast!”

“N-No! PLEASE STOP IT HURTS PLEASE!!”

“Be a bit more grateful! We’ll get these unsightly things off of you!”

Years down the line he still wouldn’t know how exactly he got away. All he knew that one minute he was being held down, a knife slicing under the scales on his skin. The next minute he was running outside, into the woods that surrounded his family home.

Something on his back moved, and he flinched. Perhaps it had been… those things that had helped him escape. He hated them. Hated, hated, hated the extra arms that occasionally just appeared, as if to taunt him that he wasn’t human, that he was every bit the freak that everyone told him he was.

“Go away,” He whispered desperately at the extra appendages. “Go away go away go away go away!!”

A shudder ran down his back, and he knew they had vanished once more. His wave of relief was shot down when he heard the yelling, closer than he wished they were. He had to move. Shakily he crawled out of the false safety of his hiding place, hobbled to his feet and ran.

He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, his steps and sobbing deafening in the silent forest. As much as the dark frightened him, the small hints of light that he could see through the trees were even more terrifying. The voices behind him became louder and louder, the barking nearing. He could almost feel the dog’s jaws closing around his ankle. He tried to speed up, but every step jostled pain down his ruined back. Spots danced in his vision, tears leaking faster because of the burning ache.

His foot caught behind a root, and he landed on the forest floor with a painful yelp. He tried to get up as quickly as he could, but-

“THERE IT IS! WE FOUND IT!”

Fear spurring him on, the monster jumped up and ran. Now he heard running behind him, the mob closing in on him. He no longer tried to quiet down his cries.

He dashed into an open spot. It made him feel to open and exposed, and he tried to run towards the relative safe covering of the trees once more. But before he could reach them, another group of people burst from the treelines in front of him. He skidded, turning, wanting to run back, but there was the other group.

“Here it is! Grab it!” “No!” The monster sobbed. “No, please no!”

The mob didn’t listen, only closed him in with bloodlust in their eyes. The monster turned and turned, hoping to find a way to escape. Spotting none, he dropped to his knees and curled into a small ball, his arms covering his head. He heard the people approaching, victory in their yelling, and he only hoped that the end would come quickly-

“STOP.”

A bright light burst to life in the open spot, shocking the mob to a standstill. The monster could see the light seeping through his closed eyelids.

“What is happening here?” The booming voice of a woman asked.

“This is no concern of you, witch,” The mob leader said gruffly. “We’re here to kill the monster that has terrorized our town for too long.”

The monster swallowed as his throat closed up painfully. A witch. Now he was truly done for.

“A monster?” The woman said in baffled disbelief. “That is a child! You would murder a child in cold blood?”

“That is no child!” Someone sneered. “It’s a demon straight from the underworld!”

Agreeing voices sounded across the open spot. The monster trembled and curled into a smaller ball when he heard the people moving again, closing in on him.

“Don’t come near him!” The woman bellowed. “Anyone who dares to touch him will answer to me!”

Most footsteps came to a hesitant halt. One of them however didn’t stop.

“You don’t scare me, witch!” A man said. “I have slain plenty monsters before, and this one won’t be any different! That skin will look nicely on a new belt!”

The monster sobbed a little louder when he peeked under his arm and saw the boots of the man right in front of him.

“Oh really?” Said the woman. Her voice had turned dangerously soft. “Well, in that case, know you have brought this upon yourself…”

Another burst of bright white light illuminated the open spot. The monster only caught a small glimpse of it from under his arms.

“You have not heeded my warnings. Therefor you will suffer my curse. If any of you ever lays a hand on a child with the intention to harm again,” The woman’s voice turned powerful, commanding. “You will be transformed into PIGS!”

Muttering was heard, fear finally replacing the anger that had held the mob in its tight grasp. The man above the monster however only scoffed.

“Nice bluff, lady,” He said. “But no witch or sorcerer alive has ever brought down such a curse!” With that he bended down and harshly yanked the monster up by his bloodied shirt. The rough handling send a sharp shot of pain down his tortured back, and he howled in agony.

Immediately the hand released him. The monster fell back down with a thud while the man above him stumbled to the ground. The monster looked up at his would-be captor. The man shuffled backwards, staring pale as the moon at his pulsing hands. His mouth opened in a horrified silent yell as his fingers shrunk into his hands and hoofs started forming. His nose scrunched up, turning into a perfect little snout. Tusks pushed up from his bottom lip.

“NO STOP IT PLEA-!!” The man’s screaming transformed into horrified squealing as his vocal chords shifted and changed.

Screaming erupted over the open spot as the people dropped their weapons and ran, tripping over themselves to get away as fast as they could. The man turning pig tried to stand up to run along with them, but he stumbled as his legs shortened and his clothes clung onto a gradually shrinking body. No one came to his aid. He dragged himself after them, pleading squeals leaving him. Wide eyed the monster stared as the mob disappeared among the trees, their wails dying away slowly in the night.

His momentary reprieve didn’t last long. Careful footsteps approached him and the monster realized the witch was still there. Quickly he curled himself back into a ball. Panicked logic told him that as long as he didn’t move she might not spot him. Surely if this woman saw his face she would understand why the mob had chased him down. She would be scared… Or maybe she wanted to carve away his scales as ingredients for potions. She was a witch, that’s what witches did, right?

A curious touch on his arm startled the monster, making him tighten the arms around his head. The monster heard curious snuffles and soft clicks as something small rustled through the leafs around him. A little snout sniffed at his hand, insistently trying to nudge his arms away from his face.

Overtaken by his own curiosity, the monster warily peeked over his arm. Two ruby red angular eyes with split pupils met his. Pearlescent white scales trailed down a small reptilian body, leathery wings stretching out as the creature tilted its head inquisitively. He couldn’t help it; the monster lifted his head up a bit more to stare.

Was that… a dragon?

The white dragon didn’t move away as the monster gaped. It only let out a soft thrilling sound as it inspected him with an intelligent gaze. The sound made the monster smile hesitantly. He had never seen a dragon before…

A gentle hand caressed his curls, and ice-cold fear snapped him back to the here and now.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME!!” The monster yelled as dove back into a curled up ball. The hand snapped back. He bit his lip to choke back a strangled sob. Oh no oh no he had raised his voice, he yelled at an adult, this was bad, this was BAD-!!

“Why wouldn’t I look at you?” The woman asked softly. Her voice was a far cry from the intimidating boom from barely a minute ago. The monster however wasn’t fooled.

“I’m c-cursed…” He hiccupped. “P-Please don’t look, I’m c-c-cursed…”

A beat of silence. The monster knows that by now she must have spotted the scales on his hands, the sharp talons where blunt nails should be. Any second now she was going to scowl in disgust and call the mob back, who would finish the job. Fresh tears started straining down his cheeks as he awaited the inevitable.

“Oh no…” The woman whispered. “Oh no no no no no…”

Strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him gingerly from the ground. The monster wanted to beg and plead for mercy, but every word died in his throat when he was pulled against the woman’s broad chest in a careful embrace.

“I’m sorry…” The woman murmured brokenly as she stroked his hair soothingly. “I’m so, so sorry… Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

The monster lay paralyzed in the hug as the woman kept whispering apologies above him. “Please don’t hurt me…” He whimpered in a weak little voice. The woman’s breath hitched and she tightened her arms around him.

“Never, you hear me?” She said shakily. “Never.”

A gasp tore from his throat as Deceit shot upright. It took him a few frantic seconds to stop seeing the forest in the shadows of his room, to realize it was cold sweat dripping down his back and not blood.

With a groan Deceit fell back on his bed, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes. Great, that particular dream hadn’t passed the revue in a while. Oh, he just loved how it didn’t seem to matter how many decades had passed since that damned night; the dreams kept coming back. Like a fever he couldn’t quite shake. Weren’t his demons tired by now, beating him up with the same stick every single time?

Dragging his hands down his face, Deceit glared up at the ceiling like it was personally responsible for his ruined night. Damn, he was tired… He hadn’t slept this bad in ages. What had made him this restless-

Oh right. He had a guest.

Deceit groaned again, a longer, outdrawn sound of exhausted misery. Fate truly was a cruel mistress, wasn’t it? Just when he had seriously considered- horror above horrors- giving up (good grief, the words alone made him want to puke), they had thrown the winning key to his plan right into his lap. A member of the royal family… Not just that, one of the princes. This opened pathways he hadn’t even dared to think about before!

Speaking of things that just kept coming back, hope settled into the small dark dungeon that was his heart like the flickering light of a single candle. As if fate was a particular sadistic jailor who adored mocking him, taunting Deceit that he possibly couldn’t break out of his prison cell with just this one blasted candle.

Well. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he had ever done to escape. And Deceit would be damned if he didn’t prove the jailor wrong.

Restless anticipation made him glide out of bed. He dressed himself in the dim light of the brightening sky outside. As he shrugged on his cloak he idly wandered towards the window. The sky was a pale grey, slowly brightening the mountains in hesitant light. The sun would rise soon, and with it, it would bring the first day of his new plan in motion.

Deceit closed his eyes in thought. A thousand paths unfurled in his mind’s eye, glistening like silk threads. Each thread was an idea, a scheme… a person. All waiting, blissfully unaware, for him to reach out to grasp the threads, to gently tug and guide them into the steps he wanted. Weave them into a dance so natural, so delicately planned that they did not realize the strings were there until it was too late.

Each thread was inspected meticulously, every possible outcome considered. His utmost focus however was on the thread that would be at the centre of his web.

Remus.

Deceit let his mind go to the man currently in his grasp. When the little prince had revealed who he was, last night on that mountaintop, Deceit had to force his hands to stay still, for his voice to remain steady. It had taken all his willpower to appear unaffected while his mind spun with shaky excitement. He had to reel himself in to not act in haste, but to listen first. Had Augusto finally grown careless enough to send his own son to finish him off, rather than the hero complex riddled fools who still occasionally dared to enter the mountains?

Turned out he hadn’t. Instead of getting an admission of a murderous plot against him, the boisterous prince had broken down in front of him. Lapping up the tiniest gestures of kindness Deceit gave him like he was dying of thirst. Apparently the Alveraz family couldn’t touch anything without destroying it, including their own children.

What a surprise.

So he had soothed the prince that wept in his lap, and carried him to his home. All the while his mind raced. When he finally placed the sleeping prince upon the cot in his laboratory, his plan slowly started to take form.

Now he only had to convince his guest to aid him. It wouldn’t be difficult. The prince already carried the pain of the rejection from his peers. All Deceit had to do was feed that resentment. Cultivate that hurt like a garden, placing a couple oh so carefully phrased suggestions to plant that seed of rebelling in his head. Sway him that Deceit was the only person left to trust. Until the prince was convinced it was his own idea to reject his former life and companions, without ever realizing someone else pulled at the strings attached to his wrists.

Deceit was an excellent puppet master, after all.

It would take him… three weeks? Or a month at most, until he had the little prince think what Deceit wanted him to. Easy. He had done this exact same thing a thousand times before. All he had to do after that was teach the prince all the tools he needed for his little coup, which hopefully would not take too long. And then… Then Deceit would claim his repayment.

He allowed himself a small smile. This is what he did best, maybe even more than the magic singing inside his veins. What was his magic but an extension of his mind? No matter how dire the situation was, no matter how much he was deprived of resources, he could always rely on his mind.

…But he shouldn’t become arrogant. He would rather die a hundred painful deaths than admit it, but he too made… mistakes (ugh). His unwavering trust in his own abilities had cost him greatly before.

This time he wouldn’t allow for any loose threads. This might very well be his last chance! He couldn’t afford to repeat his past mistakes. Not like with-

Tired eyes, darkened by the circles underneath them, looking up at him through unkempt bangs with an exasperated, but undeniably fond smile-

Deceit opened his eyes, taking in the soft light of the sunrise. He snarled at the twinge of his heart, weak little traitor that it was.

“Just don’t get attached again,” He sighed impatiently. “Then it should be fine.”

He stood at his window for a long time, taking in the view he had memorized to its finest details by now. Maybe he should see where Eris had slithered of to-

Deceit startled, whipping around and listening intently. From somewhere in the castle, the faint but distinct sounds of things falling, crashing, and breaking floated up towards his bedchambers.

It appeared that his guest was awake at last.

“Right,” Deceit cracked his fingers. “Showtime.”

After walking for about five minutes, Remus realized the one flaw in his otherwise brilliant plan.

It was night time. His gorgeous scaley paramour was most likely asleep.

A bit miffed Remus turned to go back to his room, only to realize he had NO idea where he was. With no other plan he choose a hallway at random, figuring that if he just tried every door he came across eventually he would find his chambers… Right?

An hour later he concluded that his plan was easier said than done. Remus looked between two identical hallways for a few minutes, before he had to admit it.

He was lost. And an idiot.

With no other choice Remus continued to explore. His wish to go back to his rooms gradually disappeared though as he ventured deeper and deeper into the castle. He hadn’t exactly paid attention to the castle itself before, distracted as he was. Now he curiously took everything in. Unlike the rigid brick structure of his home, every room appeared to be carved into the mountain itself, much like his bedchambers were. In the dim candlelight of the candelabra Remus went down grand staircases, opened doors and traversed through many, many rooms. His footsteps echoed as he walked through a grandiose ballroom, ceiling high windows casting pale moonlight onto the floor, where tiny crystals glittered in the stone. From the ballroom he came into a dark lofty foyer, where sculptured pillars sprawled out into the darkness. Entranced Remus let his hand glide down one such pillar. The engraving pictured a dragon and a snake entwined together in breath taking detail.

Seriously, how big was this place?? Granted, his future lover to be deserved all the rooms and luxury in the world, but most of the rooms he came across were either empty, really dusty or a combination of both.

In the minutes that slowly ticked into hours Remus didn’t encounter a living soul, aside from some spiders in a corner. Not even mice or rats. A castle as big as this would attract rodents! Remus secretly fed the rats that ran through the walls of his home, he should know.

…Did his one true love eat the mice?

That thought made Remus stop in his tracks. Well, he was a snake... And so far he hadn’t encountered a kitchen yet. He tilted his head at the mental images… But then he shrugged.

“If he does eat mice, I will fully support him!” Remus proudly declared to the dark hall. “Probably very nutritious, those tiny cheese eating bastards…” He continued in a mutter as he pulled open another door. He vaguely wondered if he might accidentally stumble upon the room where the warlock slept. Probably in one of those grand beds with black silk sheets that perfectly frame his body-

Nope nope nope, shoving that thought away NOW. Remus quickly opened another door to distract himself.

Aha, finally some different interior! This room was quite packed with stuff. A LOT of stuff even! The room had to be some sort of library or storage room, as a circle of nearly ceiling high bookcases took up most of the space of the quite spacious room. Curiously Remus stepped inside. Through the windows Remus saw that the sky was brightening into hues of pink and orange, welcoming the rising sun. It gave him more light to inspect the room and its peculiar contents. Empty bottles, old books and skulls, mostly animal but some human were haphazardly strewn about the shelves, stuffed among boxes and some miscellaneous things. Remus saw a dusty lute, its strings flaccid from disuse, cauldrons black with soot and rolls with parchment that looked like they would crumble to dust if Remus were to touch them. A black suit of armour, detailed with gold-leaf, stood against the far end of the wall.

Remus gave a low whistle as he slowly circled around, craning his head to take in the large bookcases-

He stopped dead in his tracks. Suspended from the ceiling hung a skeleton. It was so large that it stretched out over the whole room. Remus’ jaw dropped.

Holy shit, was that the skeleton of a whale??

“…That’s not real!” Remus said, as he looked starry-eyed at the skeleton. “Can’t be! How the hell would he get it all the way up here on a fucking mountain??” Or was it real?? “No, no, it’s clearly fake! Not real!”

…Or was it?

One second Remus was staring up at the skeleton. The next thing he knew he had put down his candelabra and was climbing already halfway up one of the bookcases. He had to know, he HAD to know!!

When he reached the top shelf he stretched out his hand towards the skeleton. Damn it, it was still out of his reach! Frustrated he swung his arm to and fro, constantly missing his prize by a few centimetres. Come on, come on! He thought as he stretched out on his tippy toes. Almost! Almoooooost…

A piece of dust tickled his nose. Remus scrunched up his face, trying to repress the rising urge to-

“ACHOO!!” Remus’ sneeze echoed in the large room and shook through his body. The bookcase wobbled. Remus froze. Uh-oh.

“No. Nononononono-!” He pleaded as he felt the bookcase tip ever so gently backwards. He tried to wiggle it back in his place, but to no avail. With a cursed out shout Remus’ grip on the wood slipped. His stomach lurched as he plunged down and made hard contact with the stone floor. Sharp pain shot through his wrist. Remus cursed, cradling his arm close. His wrist however was the least of his concerns, as the bookcase tilted further and loomed over him. Remus paled as he saw the contents begin to slide. In a rain of bottles, books and boxes Remus had to half roll, half run out of harm’s way. One book landed painfully on his skull, but he came out of the downpour of years of clutter with no further injury. Remus breathed out in relief, but he was too quick. The bookcase heavily crashed against the second bookcase, which also started to dangerously tilt over.

“Nonononononono-!!” Remus desperately shook his head, holding out his uninjured hand as if to force the bookcase upright. To no avail. With a wooden groan the second bookcase lurched over, its contents gliding out and smashing to bits on the on the floor. And much like his predecessor it slammed into the third bookcase.

Helplessly Remus ran around as if to delay the inevitable, but in the end he could only look on horrified as the bookcases fell down one by one like a row of dominos, emptying their content with enthusiastic cacophony. Remus shrunk at every loud CRASH, every bottle that shattered and scattered glass over the floor. The vibrations through the floor made the suit of armour at the wall tremble.

“No, no, no please-!!” Remus wailed as he saw the helmet wobble.

With one final loud CLANG and BANG, the suit of armour fell to pieces on the floor. The helmet rolled over and came to a stop at Remus’ feet, who stood amidst the rubble like the last survivor of a grievous battlefield. Paralyzed as a rabbit staring down the wolf’s jaw, Remus took in the wreckage he caused. One final bottle slid down from the pile of books it landed on and doused Remus’ feet with glass.

“Okay, you know what?” Remus said with all the hysterical brightness of gambler who suddenly realized that he was playing a losing game. “New plan, new plan! I’m going to hide somewhere deep and dark,” He turned. “And hope he’ll never find me-!” “Good morning.” Deceit said calmly to his face.

“HOLY FUCK!!!” Remus flailed backwards screeching, tripped over the helmet and made a very ungraceful landing in a pile of what used to be several functioning bookcases. Remus cursed under his breath, tried to sit up, only to have another bookshelf give way underneath him, causing a pang of sharp pain to shoot through his banged up wrist. Letting out a fresh litany of curses, Remus finally managed to haul himself up in a sitting position amongst his created chaos. He gawked with open mouth at the sudden appearance of the most gorgeous man on earth the warlock, who gave him a very unimpressed look. When the fuck he did get here??

“Heh heh,” Remus nervously laughed. “You are…” He waved his hand up and down, trying to find a word. Stunning. Sexy. Hot as hell. “So quiet!” He settled on.

Deceit’s mouth quirked up in a small smirk and Remus swallowed thickly. Oh fuck… he got prettier. How the hell was that even possible??

“I try my best.” Deceit said dryly. Remus repressed the shiver that wanted to creep over his spine because of that oil-slicked voice. He wanted to crawl into the other’s throat and build his nest in those vocal cords just so he could listen to that voice always-

Any other dreamy visions instantly died when Deceit looked away from him, and instead took the room in slowly, examining the wreckage with a slight frown. Oh no.

“Care to explain to me,” Deceit said as he looked back at Remus. “What exactly happened here?” Remus suddenly thought that he maybe he should have just flung himself down a cliff when he had the chance.

“Uuuh… What happened? Did something happen, I don’t know-! What is a happening anyway-??” Remus babbled as he scrambled up from the mess in a fluster of uncoordinated limbs. When he finally stood he looked bamboozled at the shambled room like he hadn’t noticed it before. “Oh, this!” He laughed and turned to the other man with all the convincing act of a background actor in an amateur play. “I assure you, there’s a, uum… Perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this!”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Oh is there?” He asked amusedly.

“Hmm-hmm!” Remus nodded vigorously with a large grin.

“Well do tell!” Deceit said, as he waved his arms in an inviting gesture. “I’m all ears.”

Remus blanched. “Uuuuh…” He said, his mind racing. “Right! Yes! Okay, so get this-”

Words left his mouth without stopping by his brain first to say hello. Remus wasn’t sure what he was babbling on about as the minutes passed, but cut him some slack! The warlock’s calm attention made him more nervous than any yelling had ever done. He really wasn’t used to this. Usually people didn’t give him the time to explain himself! They just saw a mess, assumed he did it and started screaming. Not the warlock though. Deceit just listened, his hands resting in the small of his back, one eyebrow elegantly raised and an amused little smile playing on his lips while Remus kept spouting bullshit. God, what the fuck was he even saying anymore? He had no idea! Better end it quickly.

“-And that’s how it all happened, thank you very much, the end!” Remus squeezed out with his final breath. With a large gulp he leaned on his legs, wheezing slightly. Deceit tilted his head in thought.

“So… Just to recap,” The warlock said after a few seconds. “An army of gnomes broke through the window, had an orgy on my bookcases before summoning a demon, trashing the room and flinging themselves out the window whilst using their deal with the demon to magically fix the windows?”

…Fuck. Was that what he had been saying? Roll with it, roll with it.

“Yup!” Remus squeaked.

Deceit gave a short hum as he pursed his lips in thought. Remus allowed hope to flare up in his chest. Was he actually going to get away with this??

“You know,” Deceit said slowly. “For someone who’s very good at lying to himself, you are absolutely horrible at lying to other people.”

Aaaaaaand that hope died a gruesome bloody death. Right, well, Remus would say it was nice knowing himself, but that would be a lie.

“So, try again,” Deceit’s eyes hardened. “What happened?”

Remus crumbled into himself, wringing his hands together. “Well, I-!” He started, but stopped when Deceit raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t test me, little prince.” The warlock said evenly. He didn’t need to raise his voice to make Remus squirm. “I… I wanted to know if the skeleton on the ceiling was real…” Remus finally admitted in defeat as he pointed upwards at the skeleton in question.

“Right,” Deceit said with nod. “So did you satisfy your curiosity?”

“No… Because the bookcase I tried to climb fell over… Which made the other bookcase fall over, and then that one made the third one fall over, before-” No, stop talking. No one wants to listen to your stupid rambling, moron. “You get the picture…” He finished in a mutter.

“And there it is… The truth.” The warlock hummed. “Was that so hard?”

Remus didn’t answer. He kept from flinching when the warlock stepped closer by sheer force of will alone.

“Now. What to do with you…”

Remus stared at his feet. He knew what was coming next. He bit his lip, braced himself-

“Are you hurt?”

Remus blinked up at him. “…What-?”

“Are you hurt?” Deceit repeated patiently.

“I…” Remus stared. Wait… That’s… definitely not the direction this should go. “Not… Not really, I guess-?” He finally said, ignoring the dull ache in his wrist. That hardly even counted as hurt.

“Good.” Deceit smiled. He snapped his fingers, his eyes briefly flaring gold. A rumble erupted from the room behind him and Remus turned, only to gape when the room slowly started to rebuild itself. Bookcases righted themselves with a groan, the fractures in the wood disappeared in a golden glow, broken bottles fused back with a sharp singing sound. Remus had to duck when books flung themselves back to their original places; the suit of armour assembled itself back together. Remus was pretty sure he had to pick up his jaw from the floor when within a minute the room was completely spotless, like nothing had ever happened.

Heh, wouldn’t that be funny? If his jaw literally dislocated itself from his face to leave behind a gaping, bloody hole with only his wagging tongue left-

NO. No, that wasn’t a Roman thought! Focus!

“Well, that was that,” Deceit interrupted his thoughts. “Please refrain from climbing on tall things in the future. I would hate for you to break something I can not fix.”

Remus tore his bewildered wide-eyed look away from the newly restored room to stare back at the other. “You mean… Like the windows…?” He asked uncertainly. Deceit raised an eyebrow.

“I mean like your neck, dearie.”

Remus had no idea how to respond to that even if he wanted to. This was so far removed from how these kinds of conversations usually went for him that he was officially out of ideas.

“Make no mistake,” Deceit said. “Next time you make a mess like this-”

Ah, right, now he would get the bodily threats, okay-

“-You will be cleaning it up yourself.”

…Or maybe not.

“And one more thing…”

Within the blink of an eye the warlock moved. Remus’ breath jittered to a stop when the other man was suddenly much closer, barely a hair width between them. Even without the golden glow Remus helplessly got lost in those fierce two-toned eyes.

“Do not lie to me again,” Deceit hissed, his fangs pushing out over his lower lip. “I do not appreciate being lied to, even when you are amazingly bad at it. Have I made myself clear?”

Remus’ heart thundered in his ears at the close proximity of the warlock. He drunk in every little detail that he had missed the first time, like how brightly yellow the left eye was. Or how the specks of gold in his hazel eye shimmered, as if his golden magic still shone through even without using it. Remus had thought they were about the same height, but this close he realized the warlock was juuuuuuust a smidge shorter than he was. He would have to lean down an eetsy-beetsy tiny bit to kiss those pretty lips. Remus had no idea why that little detail excited him so much, but it did.

“Super clear!” Remus squeaked, hoping to god he wasn’t blushing. Blushing was for the fucking weak. Deceit narrowed his eyes, giving him a sceptical glare. Remus tried to give him his best Roman-esque smile back. He couldn’t help but feel that on him it looked less charming and more like he was high off his ass.

“Right,” Deceit eventually said as he stepped away from him, and Remus bludgeoned down the urge to reach out and pull him back. “Are you hungry?”

Yes. Very hungry. Hungry for your DIC- “Yep! Definitely!” Remus brightly stopped his own head. “I could eat!”

Deceit gave him an odd look, but made no comment. “Come with me then.” He said as he waved him along. Remus followed him out of the room eagerly.

“Oh, and by the way,” Deceit threw a smile over his shoulder that made Remus’ legs all wobbly. “Yes. The skeleton is very much real.”

Remus swallowed. He was in so, so much trouble.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #dukeceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #ts janus #ts remus #romantic dukeceit #yes I am making you all wait for the resolution of the birthday party #suffer #started writing #had a breakdown #bon appétit baby

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two-unbeatable-beaters · 5 years ago

Text

Scars Chapter 2: One Night

Summary: Seeing Geralt after 10 years brings up pain and questions.

Words: 2122

Warnings: Is angst a warning?

A/N: Ok so I have to start out by apologizing. I planned to have this up like a week ago but me, being the clumsy thing I am, spilled water on my laptop and fried the motherboard. So I had to send it off to see if anything could be done to save it and, surprise surprise, there wasn’t. They were able to save some of my data but no everything. I then had to buy a new laptop and see what they were able to recover. Of coarse this chapter wasn’t one of the things saved. So, I had to type this up, from memory, partially on my phone because I, as a nurse am still working. Therefore this has not been beta’ed but I wanted to get it out as soon as possible so please forgive any mistakes. If you notice any errors, let me know so that I can fix them. Also, if anyone thinks of a better title, let me know cause I’m not sure about “Scars” anymore.

Tag list: @skylarmorgan1899, @ayamenimthiriel, @nadia-rosea

Your first instinct upon seeing Geralt of Rivia after so many years was to slam the door in his face.

So that’s what you did.

After shutting the door, you quickly locked it before turning and pressing your back against the cool wood. You had never been one to really believe in fate or destiny, but this turn of events could make you reconsider. It would make sense that someone, somewhere was laughing at you and the twisted path they had planned for you to take in life.

Taking some deep breaths, you attempted to slow your heart rate. You slid your dagger into the holder on your belt as you began to listen to what was being said on the other side of your front door.

“Geralt,” the young girl, Ciri apparently, called to the Witcher, “what’s wrong?”

You heard Geralt‘s footsteps approach the cabin and stop short of the steps. “Come along Ciri, we need to keep moving,” came his gruff reply.

“But Geralt,” Ciri protested, “what’s going on?” Ciri’s voice was still close indicating she hadn’t moved from her spot on your steps. “Do you know her?”

You held your breath as you waited to hear his answer.

Geralt paused for a moment before responding with a sigh, “she’s no one Ciri. Now, let’s move along. We still have a long journey ahead of us.”

You know you should have just let them go. It would have been easy, to stay where you were, to let them continue on, into the night, never to be seen by you again. But for some reason, hearing Geralt say that you were no one, to completely deny the four years you spent traveling with him, hurt. It felt like he had reached into your chest and squeezed your heart. You felt tears start to sting your eyes before your anguish turned into anger

Spinning around and unlocking the door, you threw it open with a BANG and flew down the steps until you were face to face with the stunned Witcher in your yard.

“No one!” You exclaimed, pushing the startled man in the chest, knowing full well that you wouldn’t be able to make him move an inch. “‘No one’ he says! As if all the time I spent by your side meant nothing!” With every word that passed your lips, your fury increased and your voice grew louder. “As if the journeys we took was merely a-a-a passing fancy to you! Something to simply pass the time!” You continued to push against him periodically as you yelled.

You could feel your face heat up as the feelings you had kept bottled up for years finally came pouring out of you in the form of rage.

“I knew you were a cold bastard, but this is low, even for you! Maybe everyone is right when they say ‘Witcher’s don’t feel’!”

You stood in front of Geralt, breathless after your tirade. As you panted and waited for his response, you looked into his eyes, searching for any type of reaction, any spark of emotion in the pools of amber.

After he remained silent for a few moments, you grew impatient. “Well?” You asked, pushing against his chest once more, hoping to prompt a reply from the stoic man.

“You were the one who left,” were the words that finally left his mouth.

If his goal had been to increase your anger, he knew exactly what to say to do it.

“You could have come after me!” You threw up your arms, “or are you going to say that one girl was able to outsmart The White Wolf?!”

His reply was much quicker this time. “Usually when someone leaves, it’s because they’re unhappy. So why would I go after someone who clearly didn’t want to be in my presence any longer?”

Your shoulders drooped as you let out an exasperated breath, “you know, for having been around as long as you have, you really know nothing about women.”

“She’s right Geralt,” Ciri said, reminding the two of you that she was still there. ”You do seem rather dense sometimes.”

“Thank you!” You said, turning back to look at Geralt.

“Hmm,” was his only response, clearly not happy that Ciri had agreed with you.

“So, you used to travel with Geralt too?” Ciri asked, approaching you. The girl seemed unfazed by the tension that lingered between you and the Witcher.

“Yes,” you sighed, facing Ciri, “a long time ago.” With your attention taken briefly from the man in front of you, you could feel how emotionally exhausted your outburst had made you. Focusing on your breathing again, you turned the subject away from yourself.

“Speaking of which,” you head turned back to Geralt, “what are you doing with a child?” You asked, confused and curious as to how the unlikely pair had come to be.

“Hey!” Ciri exclaimed, clearly offended by the term, “I’m not a child!”

“Oh, my apologies,” came your sarcastic reply. “Just how old are you?” You asked, one eyebrow arched.

“I’ll have you know that I will be thirteen soon,” Ciri said with a clear sense of pride in her voice.

You rolled your eyes at her tone, “Oh gods, your even younger than I thought.” Shaking your head, you said “that still doesn’t answer my question as to how you two,” you motioned between them “ended up together.”

Geralt answered you this time, “Child Surprise.”

Your eyebrows shot up. You had been with Geralt and Jaskier on that fateful night when he had foolishly claimed the Law of Surprise. “Child Surprise,” you repeated in disbelief. You looked back at the filthy girl, reassessing her. “You mean to tell me,” you started, “that this scrawny little thing” you pointed to her, “in desperate need of a bath, is Princess Cirilla, Lion Cub of Cintra, granddaughter of Queen Calanthe?”

Geralt nodded, confirming what you already knew.

“Well fuck me,” you breathed.

After a moment of silence between the three of you, Ciri piped up “So… does that mean we can stay?”

The girl’s inability to read the situation astounded you. That, or she just ignored it. Possibly a side effect of being alone with Geralt for too long.

Letting out a defeated sigh, your head fell back and your shoulders dropped. You were too tired for this shit. “Fine,” you groan out before rubbing a hand over your face as you tried to compose yourself, “You can stay. But just for the night,” you clarified.

Ciri cheered, no doubt excited at the prospect of sleeping inside for the night and possibly even having a bath. You moved back toward your home, not bothering to look behind and see if they were following. Ciri began talking animatedly about where she and Geralt were headed and just how long they had been traveling. You were only half paying attention to her as you went up the steps and through the front door, Ciri close behind.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid’ you repeated in your head, berating yourself for giving into the girl. You supposed a part of you felt bad for her. She almost reminded you of yourself when you first started traveling with Geralt. You recalled trying to sleep on the cold ground, unable to find a comfortable position. You remembered walking for days, sometimes with no plan, just hoping to find work.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you noticed Ciri had gone quiet, having discovered the pot of stew you had made.

“Are you hungry?” You asked her, already moving to grab a clean bowl and spoon. Ciri looked at you, her eyes wide, and nodded. You ladled up a generous serving of the warm food and grabbed some bread before placing them on the small table you had by the kitchen. Ciri eagerly sat down and began shoveling the food into her mouth. Shaking your head with a small smile, you moved to fill a cup with water before setting it in front of her. “Slow down or you’ll choke,” you joked.

Looking up, you expected to find Geralt taking up the majority of you small living room. However, he was nowhere to be seen. With your brow furrowed, you moved back to the front door and peaked outside to see if he was still standing in your yard. It wouldn’t have been too surprising, given the man’s stubborn nature.

As you were looking around for the white-haired man, you heard a horse neigh and watched as Geralt walked through the trees, leading a beautiful chestnut horse with white going from their forehead to their nose. The horse was saddled and had what appeared to be most of Geralt’s equipment loaded on their back.

When Geralt was closer, you called out, “this the newest ‘Roach’ then?” You had never understood why he insisted on naming each new horse Roach. As expected, you only received a grunt in response.

Rolling your eyes at him, you turned back into you house before calling over your shoulder “there’s a small stable out back. You can settle her in there.” You assumed the horse to be a mare as Geralt tended to favor them over stallions.

Heading back into your house, you looked at Ciri in surprise when you saw that she was already almost finished with her food. Arching a brow, you asked with a small laugh “would you like some more? There should be enough left for a couple more serves.” She eagerly nodded her head, her mouth so full her cheeks bulged out.

As you ladled up more stew, you asked, “has Geralt not been feeding you? You act like you haven’t eaten in days.”

“I feed her just fine” came Geralt’s rough voice from the doorway. “She just always complains about the taste.”

With out looking up, you replied “well, assuming your cooking, like your people skills, hasn’t improved over the years, I don’t blame her.” Setting the refilled bowl in front of Ciri, you finally turned your attention to Geralt.

As you had assumed, Geralt seemed out of place in your home. He made it seem tiny as opposed to just small. He looked around, assessing his surroundings as always. His eyes stopped on the one bed across from the fireplace.

“The bed is big enough for two,” you teased, answering his unasked question. He quirked an eyebrow before you continued, “and I’m sure Ciri will enjoy getting to sleep in a bed for the first time in who knows how long.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he could get a word out. “I have some extra blankets. I’m sure you’ll be able to make yourself comfortable by the fire,” you motioned to the rug in front of the fire with your head. Geralt knew better than to argue with you, so he simply grunted and set his and Ciri’s things down by the door.

Sighing, you stretched your arms above your head before letting them fall back down to your sides. You reached up to your hair and pulled out the band keeping it in a bun at the base of your head. As you ran your fingers through your hair to try and work out the tangles, you heard Geralt say in a quiet voice “you cut your hair.”

Your hand stilled. You had always loved your hair. It had always been kept long, as was expected to allow for more intricate styles. Though, whenever you could, you would let it run loose and wild, flowing in the breeze. Your mother would always scold you afterwards, saying it was unbecoming of a girl of your station to look like a peasant with tangled hair. After you had joined Geralt, there was rarely a day that went by when your hair wasn’t a tangled mess and you loved every moment of it. Even when you would moan and groan when night came and you would have to try and brush out the tangles, Jaskier teasing you that if you pulled any harder, you would go bald. You would swear that you would never let it loose again, pulling it into a simple braid for a day or two at most, before you gave in and left it free once more.

You had cut it short not long after you and Geralt had parted ways. Now it fell just past your shoulders, the longest it had been in years.

Dropping your hand from your hair, you replied “it’s been ten years Geralt, people change.”

The silence that filled the room after you spoke was deafening. And once again, it was broken by Ciri.

“What happened between you two?”

~~~~

There we go! Chapter two! Hopefully it won’t take me nearly as long to get the next chapter out, but we shall see. Thank you guys so much for reading!

-Two

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