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moral-turpitudes · 4 years

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House Calls:

A/N: I’m in no way a doctor or even a med student, I just used google and went off my own experiences with fevers...so yeah lol. I’m screaming at how cute Soft!Tommy is though like I think I’m dead. RIP to me and my ovaries.

Trigger Warnings: Angst, FLUFF. Some flirty shit at the end.

Word Count: 1,640

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Request: “Could you perhaps write a one-shot Tommy x reader and the reader would work as a doctor and one day she would be called to treat John or Charlie (doesn’t matter) and she would be able to cure them and Thomas would be very grateful for it. I think that might be very cute but if you don’t like the idea it’s okay!! 😃😃”

Requested by: Anon

Summary: Y/N is summoned to Thomas Shelby’s house to help cure his ailing son, not knowing she’d catch the eye of the usually cold-hearted gang leader.

Part 1 | Part 2

Around 5am a rough, rattling cough came from the depths of Charlie’s lungs, startling him awake and causing him to cry between ragged breaths. His frail screaming pierced the air, sending Tommy shooting out of bed, grabbing his gun from his nightstand, and darting straight to his sons room. He panicked internally, while flinging the door open for any signs of danger, only to be met with Charlies cries and outstretched hands.

Tommy took a deep breath and sighed, scooping him up and taking a seat in the rocking chair near his crib. As he fought sleep, he looked at the pale blue ceiling of his sons room, listening to Charlie’s ragged breaths. With a furrowed brow, he lifted him up, bringing his forehead to his lips, confirming his suspicions of a fever. The poor thing was flushed red in the face, a light sheen of sweat developing on his skin as his hot tears soaked his face.

“Shhh...it’s okay. Daddy’s got ya. We’re going to call a doctor okay?” He said, trying to gently coo to calm Charlie down. He was whining and fussy and showing no signs of the fever breaking anytime soon.

Tommy gently got up with him and brought him to his bedroom, sitting him on what would’ve been Grace’s side of the bed, and lied down next to him whilst he dialed the doctors office.

A nice voice on the end of the line answered. “This is Dr. Y/L/N with the Birmingham Women and Children’s Clinic. How may I help you?” She asked.

“Hello Dr. Y/L/N, this is Thomas Shelby. I’m calling about my son. He has a cough, ragged breathing, and a fever that seems really high. Are you able to make house calls?” He asked, watching as Charlie played with a horse-shaped toy.

“Yes of course Mr. Shelby. I’ll just need an address and I’ll be over in about 30 minutes.” She said.

Tommy told her the address and any other details she needed to know. And before he could hang up, her voice sounded again, calming Tommy as the sun rose through the window.

“Don’t worry Mr. Shelby, I’ll have him better in no time. But just for a precaution, get a cold rag and put it on the back of his neck to help with the fever.”

“Alright, I will. Thank you.” He said before hanging up.

“Well Charlie, looks like we’re going to have a visitor alright? She’s going to take good care of ya.” He said as Charlie now laid against his chest, whining quietly. Tommy gently put him on the pillow and went to get a cloth, running it under cold water, and putting it over the back of his neck.

“There ya go, my sweet boy.” He said kissing the top of his head. He whined a bit as the cold cloth touched his neck, protesting the feeling as Tommy watched sleepily over him. It was around 5:30 in the morning when they finally heard the doorbell and a swift knock on the door.

Tommy picked up Charlie, and went to the door allowing the nurse to step in.

“Thank you for coming so early in the morning. I’m surprised anyone’s working this early.” He said, his voice still a bit groggy.

“Of course! I was working the graveyard shift so I’m always the doctor on call at this time. Now this must be Charlie...Hello sweetheart. My name is Y/N.” You said, smiling and in a much more lively tone than Tommy.

“Charlie do you want to show Y/N to your room?” He asked. Charlie looked up at you and smiled slightly, his rosy cheeks alarming you a bit.

“Lead the way you two, I’ll be right behind ya.” You said, nervously walking down the hall and up the stairs, reveling at the grandiosity of the house. You knew the Shelby’s after caring for many of the families wives and children, but this was the first time you’ve encountered the infamous Thomas Shelby. His current state was much less alarming than you thought it was going to be. You expected a ruthless leader answering the door, with a razor-blade cap on and wielding a gun, but instead he was a blue-eyed slim faced man, with a loose fitting shirt and pants on, and an adorable baby boy living seemingly alone in this huge mansion.

“Here we are, where would you like me to put him?” He asked you. You looked around the blue-toned room, your eyes catching a portrait of a blonde haired, beautiful woman in a frame near his crib that you assumed to be his late mother, as it was similar to the one in the stairwell.

“His crib is fine.” You said, sitting your work bag down and putting your gloves on and putting your stethoscope around your neck.

“If you don’t mind I’d like to stay, he doesn’t like when I leave...” He said, taking a seat in the rocking chair.

“That’s completely fine, Mr. Shelby. I’ll try to make this quick so you don’t fall asleep.” You said smirking. He smiled and watched on as you did your work.

“Alright I’m going to take this and listen to your heart okay? Big breaths for me, like this.” You said, breathing in a big breath and blowing out.

He did his best to copy you and sat surprisingly still as the stethoscope gently made its way around his chest and back.

“His heart sounds great, but his breathing is a bit rough. His lungs sound like they’re inflamed a little bit.” You said looking over at Tommy who was eyeing you intently, causing you to blush a bit as he nodded for you to continue.

“Okay sweetie let’s take your temperature shall we?” You say before reaching in your bag to get a thermometer.

“Can you say “Ahh” for me Charlie?” You asked, smiling at him. He opened his mouth just enough for you to examine his throat before raising his arm up to place the thermometer under his arm.

“We’re going to play a game okay? You’re going to hold that under your arm and I’m going to hold this under mine until it’s ready alright?” You said, grabbing a pencil from your bag and placing it under yours, getting him to copy you. You were able to get a reading not too long after, taking the pencil from under your arm and clapping as you removed the thermometer from under his.

“Now I know you won’t like me for a moment, but I’m going to shine this at your eyes for a second okay? Look at me.” You said guiding his eyes with your finger as you examined them.

“Great job sweetheart!” You said leaning down to him and giving him a high-five. You turned to Tommy who was smiling at your all’s little interaction.

“It’s 101.5...that’s a bit high especially for a toddler, and so from the look and sound of it, I’m going to say he has acute bronchitis.”

His face turned a bit serious as he took in what you said. Your smile faded slightly as you took in his change of emotion.

“Will you be able to prescribe his anything?” He asked, concern lacing his face and his voice.

“Of course Mr. Shelby. I’m going to prescribe him some cough syrup that will help with the cough and everything, and I recommend cold compresses every few hours to help with the fever or a cold bath if you find it increasing.” You said writing out a note for the prescription.

“Alright, thank you again. I hate to keep you away from your work, but I’d probably be panicking right now if it weren't for you Dr. Y/L/N.”

“It’s no problem at all, especially when my patients are as well behaved as little Charlie.” You said, smiling at him and then at Tommy. You felt his gaze on you as you gathered your things and as you made your way to the door.

“Oh and Mr. Shelby, you can call me Y/N. I’d be happy to help you again if need be.”

“Thank you Y/N. And you can call me Tommy. I know it may not be the right time, but I’d love to pay repay ya in some way, not just with money...” He said lingering by the door to Charlie’s room. You stopped and looked at him, taking a moment to think about what he said.

“What kind of repayment were you thinking Mr. Sh-I mean Tommy?” You asked, catching yourself calling him that out of habit.

“I was thinking maybe going for a drink sometime, when you’re free of course.” He said. You blushed and took a long look at him.

“I’d love that actually...I’ll ring you this Friday when I’m free.” You said.

“Then it’s a date.” He said smiling slightly before turning back to Charlie.

You walked out, hearing the birds singing as you drove off and back to the remaining hours of your long shift, excitedly looking forward to the end of the week.

Later that morning, Thomas called the shop, telling Polly all that went on and decided to take the day off to better help monitor him, but before she could say anything else he spoke.

“Oh and cancel anything for Friday of this week.” He said.

“Why...? Thomas is it serious?” She asked concerned.

“No Poll. The lovely doctor prescribed him some medicine. I’m...actually going to be meeting with her that day...”

“My god you’ve asked out the doctor?” She asked.

“I did. But I know she’s not like the others Poll, you’ll see.” He said before hanging up.

After Grace’s death, he didn’t know when he’d want to take up dating again, but dating takes risks, and risks were something that Thomas Shelby could never shy away from.

Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @cai-neki, @peakyxtommy

#katiesanons #katiesrequests #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x female reader #dad!tom #ASDFGHJKL NOW I WANT KIDS OH NO #I'm crying why'd this turn out kinda good? I'm not okay soft tommy can really have it all #soft!tommy #katiesWIPlist

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jaskiersvalley · 5 years

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TITLE: Summer Swift

AUTHOR/ARTIST: @jaskiersvalley

PROMPT DAY #: #4 Hurt/Comfort

SUMMARY: Over the years, Geralt had assumed Jaskier didn’t travel with him during the winter because it was too cold and tough on a fragile human body. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

WORD COUNT (if applicable): ~1k

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Netflix show

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Depression, Seasonal Affective Disorder.

RATING: Teen and up

ADDITIONAL NOTES: Written as part of @geraskierweek. This one is dedicated to @thefishmongersdaughter - you know why :)

That first fateful meeting had been years ago but Geralt still remembered it. His Summer Swift had deemed him home for the warmer months, only leaving him as the cold set it. It was something Geralt had come to accept, cold, hard winters by himself. Such a life wasn’t fit for a fragile human.

“Where will you migrate to this winter, little hummingbird?” Geralt asked as he set the fire, an early chill had settled on the lands this year.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I’m welcome anywhere in particular this year and my coin is a bit thin to be able to put myself up somewhere.”

Weighing up the options, Geralt finally offered to be a companion for the colder months too, happy to pay towards rooms for cold nights and help with furs for Jaskier. It was quietly accepted with a warning that Jaskier might not be able to pay him back and that Geralt was not obligated to spend all his time with him. At that, Geralt only laughed a little and shook his head, reassuring Jaskier that he liked spending time with him, his happiness was infectious. For some strange reason, that only drew a bitter huff from Jaskier but it didn’t matter, Geralt was just happy he got to spend more time with his bard.

As the weeks went on, something changed. Watching Jaskier was like watching a fire die out, the embers blowing in the winds and trying to remember their former glory. He still played in taverns but a spark was missing. He sang, he smiled, he bowed and went through the motions of flirting. But Geralt could see how it all rang hollow, a poor mimicry of what Jaskier had been.

And Geralt didn’t understand. He tried to make it better, took Jaskier to better inns, bought him nicer furs, didn’t put any pressure on him to perform, he even stopped trying to cuddle him in case Geralt was the cause of his sadness. Maybe Jaskier only ever wanted a summer romance with him and now felt trapped. Pulling back from Jaskier hurt and it didn’t seem to help. If anything, it made him fall deeper into this fading disease of his. The smiles were empty, there were no new songs. In fact, Jaskier barely even touched his lute. Some days, he sat on the edge of the bed, lute in hand but after a restless plucking of one or two strings, nothing more came forth. It was a good day when he got half way through a song even if it had no soul.

Things got worse. Not even the finest foods Geralt could offer seemed to make the bard smile. And it was a worry. Especially when Geralt realised that he, as a Witcher, slept more than his human companion. He lost track of the amount of time Jaskier lay in bed, eyes open and staring when he should have been fast asleep.

“What ails you?” Geralt ended up asking in the middle of the winter. “Would you prefer to part ways?”

The fact Jaskier didn’t answer beyond a shrug was worrisome. Even worse was when he opened his mouth to actually speak. “It would probably be better for you. I’d understand.”

He probably would understand but Geralt didn’t. Especially not when a tear trickled down Jaskier’s temple where he was lying. His question about being allowed to approach was met with a silent nod and Geralt was padding across the room, sliding into bed like he had done so many times in the past. It took a little coaxing and moving Jaskier around until he could be held and then it was like a dam had broken. Human arms clutched at him and tears escaped along with apologies.

Over the course of the next couple of days, Geralt managed to tease the story out of Jaskier. Each winter, some curse seemed to fall on him where everything seemed pointless, nothing tasted good and it was like sunshine and warmth brought all his happiness. The winter robbed him of that. Left him a husk of who he used to be. So he made up for it in the warmer months, becoming larger than life in the hopes that some of it might be carried over into the winter. It never was. His winters were spent holed up in some room, either at a friend’s place or somewhere safe. Only, this year nobody had been willing to put up with him, nobody wanted him to haunt their halls with his emptiness.

Listening to it all only made Geralt hold him closer. It wasn’t easy. Some days he wanted to shake Jaskier and ask him what was so awful about winter when there were so many wonders it brought. Snow, a crisp chill to the air, beautiful sights, the wonder of a warm fireplace with hot chocolate to boot. But it didn’t matter. For whatever reason, Jaskier was blind to these simple joys. On the days Geralt wanted to rage, he simply went out, walked through the snow, tended to Roach and, by the time his annoyance had quietened, he felt bad. So he always returned with a small gift for Jaskier.

As early as winter had set in, it was just as quick to pass. Soon, the sun was brightening the mornings, snowdrops peered out of the ground. And, Geralt noted, it was like watching Jaskier wake up. Not a sudden spring back to his usual self, more like a steady, yawning stretch. Rather than sit on his bed, Jaskier could be cajoled to sit by the window and look out at the melting snow. His lute, which had been abandoned on the darkest nights of winter, found its way to his side again. The first time Jaskier laughed, it sounded like a blessing even though it was last heard so long ago, it might as well have been a myth from olden times.

By the time the weather warmed up and spring had announced its imminent arrival, Jaskier was smiling again. Not the bright, sunny smiles he had greeted Geralt with after a winter apart. No, in the previous years he wouldn’t have found Geralt just yet. But the echoes of it were there, growing stronger each day. When they set out on their travels again, there was a hint of a skip to Jaskier’s step that got stronger. As summer rolled around, Geralt was grateful to see that Jaskier was back to how he knew him, his migratory little bird. The pet names returned, only, this time, Geralt vowed that he would find something to make winters more bearable for his songbird. Thus, they started their chase of the summer across the continents, trying to always be one step ahead of winter and her curse.

#geraskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #geraskier week #tldr: jaskier has SADs and geralt tries his best

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catchlalune · 4 years

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Original artwork here

a/n: Hello starbursts! Happy Juneteenth and I hope everyone is staying safe and still quarantining! This fic is very different from my usual works so I need to preface this in my authors note that all of the characters in the story are pretty awful. If you find yourself in any of these situations PLEASE seek help. I wrote this to highlight these issues and you should think of it much like a modern day Romeo and Juliette story (and what I mean by that is that everyone in that story was incredibly dense and really could’ve solved a lot of their issues by talking and working through things together.) Thank you to @skzctnightnight and @pockpop for actually helping me maintain my motivation for finishing writing in an actual day. (also tagging @jejublr )

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairings: Lucas x Reader

Genre: Angst, CEO! Au, Arranged Marriage

Warnings: unhealthy relationships, smut, abusive relationship (this is not between the reader and Lucas), this again is to highlight how awful people can be this is an extremely toxic scenario so please don’t read if you will be triggered. Also not proofread yet but I plan on fixing it later

This is not in any way, shape, or form meant to say that I believe Lucas is like this in the slightest. I am using his likeness to portray a completely fictional character and that is all.

The entirety of the two years she has spent with Lucas culminates to the two of them in this moment. The sinful sounds the two of them make as skin slaps on skin. The feel of him inside her. Everything is hot and wet and passionate. As passionate as the kisses they’ve always shared. As hot as the sun on their skin as they sit and laugh in the sun, Lucas’ parents included. As wet as the rain as it pours outside, slapping on the pavement in hard droplets.

They say that if it rains on your wedding day it means the relationship is meant to last forever. But what does it mean when it happens on a day of goodbyes? Are you fated to never say hello again?

Whatever it means does not matter much to the two of them. Lucas is too busy coaxing his cock in and out of her to think of much other than their combined pleasure. They draw this out for as long as they possibly can. They know what will happen when they finish. But still Lucas must bring her to the apex of her pleasure, circling her throbbing bud as he stoaks the fire inside her belly. Her toes tingle, eyes shut tight and breathing ragged. Her fingers pinch and rub at her nipples until she's shaking.

She comes undone with a sweet groan, gripping him until he releases into the condom.

They lay there in the darkness of the night, the only illumination being the red of the alarm clock on Lucas’ bedside table. Glaringly it tells them the time but they ignore it as it looks in on them. It judges silently as the time reaches hours close enough for the sun to claw its way above civilization. They grasp for each other in the post-coituous haze. It does not matter, no matter how tightly they cling.

“I want to stay like this forever.” His whispers sound like music to her ears, the song of a siren.

She does not answer him, anything she wants to say is caught in her throat. The memories that flood her mind hurt her before his words even can. Distinctly she remembers his mother telling her about the arranged marriage proposal from before he was even a child. Lucas doesn’t even know, she hadn’t even known up until two weeks ago. Their two year relationship had suddenly been reduced to nothing by those words. And his mother had been so casual about it, telling her as they searched for Lucas’ birthday present as if it was nothing more than an afterthought. ‘And by the way, you will never be able to have my son. Not completely.’

She doesn’t realize the sobs that wrack her until Lucas pulls her close. He coos at her about how she always gets so emotional after sex. He jokes, tries to lighten the mood but nothing will quiet her mind. Not really. She knows that their graduation tomorrow means the end of this, of them. She knows she should at least tell him why, but she can’t bring herself to say the words.

Instead she lets him hum the both of them to sleep, Lucas feeling bad about not being able to cure her of whatever ails her. She speaks to him after a brief period of rest, words hardly above the sound of the rustling of sheets.

“Maybe we could’ve been, in another world.”

By the time he wakes the sun is just rising over the horizon, alarm clock blaring, and the bed cold. He doesn’t have to wait long to find out she is no longer with him. Some part of him feels the dread, knows something must’ve been wrong but he tries to brush it off. He does a good job of it too until he realizes he can’t reach her. Her number automatically disconnects, her things are no longer at her dorm room, and he doesn’t even catch a glimpse of her at graduation. When it is time for her to walk the stage there is a pregnant pause and the name of the graduate. He can’t imagine what must have happened to make her miss her own college graduation but he can’t even find the time to worry. Not when his parents are there and tell him the truth.

---

“If I have to listen to another man tell me about how to run my own business I just might shoot myself in the foot.”

Already the span of time has reached six long years. Leaving him was a decision she did not pride herself on. Some nights ended with dreams, ghosts of memories too long passed. Echoes of a time she felt safe, felt confident. Now she stands in the lobby of a convention center trying to figure out which panel would aggravate her the least. Two more long days she would have to deal with the misogyny, usually her patience wouldn’t be so thin but she hasn’t been able to sleep very well recently. She wakes up with the feel and taste of him on her. She feels dirty.

“I agree, we can do it together.” The woman-- who she hadn’t noticed-- smiles at her so brightly it makes her a bit uncomfortable. She was very pretty, the image of most men’s dreams probably. Perfectly manicured nails, long pin-straight hair, skin a milky complexion, lips a shade of pink that was not too bold and not too flirty. The woman also wears a dress she vaguely remembers seeing in a high fashion magazine not too long ago whilst waiting at the doctor's office-- in another word: expensive. She feels a bit embarrassed to have said that so loud where others could obviously hear her. It was obvious she was being watched, she was a woman in a man's world she was always being watched.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry about it. Your secret is safe with me!” The woman takes a moment to wink at her, she shifts on her feet still feeling a bit awkward. “My name’s Jaeun, you’re the CEO of Xuxi’s Publishing Group, correct? I’ve been trying to find you all day.”

Jaeun launches into a story about how she’d stumbled upon her company and relaxes her enough for the two of them to have a conversation about things other than business. It had been such a long time since she had a friend and talking to Jaeun was extremely easy. Maybe it was the way she seemed so bright and bubbly, or even the way she navigated conversations with a natural grace. Whatever it was, Jaeun quickly became a staple in her life for the next two days.

And then it all comes crashing down on her, just like the rain on that night it rains the last day of the convention. It comes down so hard it resonates within the convention center. But that’s not what she’s focused on. Jaeun had offered for her to meet her husband and his parents excitedly yesterday after talking to her about the lack of business prospects. It was supposed to be relaxed and informal but she was on absolute high alert.

The years were kind to him in a way that she considered unfair. He was even more beautiful than the night she left him.

“There you are! This is my husband Lucas. I showed him your business proposal and he wants to have a meeting for a merger.”

It’s no more than a few days after the convention that he shows up on her doorstep in business casual attire that puts hers to shame. She’s not even sure if it was actually smart for them to be left alone together but she swallows the lump in her throat and lets in him. She offers him a plate of food that she made for their lunch but he declines. He does the same to her offer for water and coffee as well. He’s been there all of five minutes and already her palms are sweating. She almost feels silly as he tells her that she can eat, always feeling like the one taking instead of giving.

"Do you really like her as a friend?" A strange conversation for him to start, but he needed to vet her nonetheless.

"Yes." There is no doubt in her words, they are hard and come out leaving no room for doubt.

"Do you love and cherish her?"

"Of course I do, it's been so long since finding a friend like her." She fiddles with her fork wondering why this was being asked to her and not the other way around.

"You know I think she loves you too. I don't know about cherish, that's a good change word. It's just that her mom is so skeptical of everyone, it's better that she doesn't get too close."

"I know, but it doesn't change my answer. "

There's a brief pause between them before he speaks again, a small smile on his face.

"I almost wish I was in an arranged marriage with you. I think it would be easy to fall in love. Should I just end it with her? You know I could." He says it with such conviction it makes her heart flutter.

"Don't say things like that. Jaeun really likes you, she really wants to make it work." It almost sickened her how easy it was for him to just say those words to her. Maybe it was easy for him, but what about her friend? She was groomed her whole life for him. The way he would easily throw her away for another makes her resolve to forget the butterflies in her stomach that much stronger.

"Let's get down to business now shall we? You came here to talk about a merger." She looks at him with her eyes and jaw set and he knows. He knows he is going to fall into her head first and drown. He knows that she is so loyal to her morals and her friendship that she would willingly let any sparks for him fizzle out and die. He knows it, and yet the beating of his heart only gets faster.

"Let's."

She is exactly how he remembers her. And the way he remembers her is very intimate. If he closes his eyes he can faintly feel the way her body would meld perfectly against him. Lips laying kisses across the expanse of his visage. The smell of her, fresh and sweet; the smell of citrus and a hint of honey with jasmine blooms. He can still feel the way their hearts beat at each others ribcage, trying to find a way out and meld together. But they never did, and they never will.

It has already been two weeks since their meeting and business between them is going off without a hitch. But of course that's all that is going on between them, business. She is just as intelligent and bright as she always has been and it seems if only she had been dealt a luckier hand in life her business would've surpassed his years ago. He shouldn't be but she makes it so easy to remember their summer tryst. She makes it so easy to remember how he cares for her.

Even at the company dinner she makes it easy, she glides through the room as if on air. Her pantsuit hugs her body in all the right places. He takes note of how it makes her stand out, of the power she exudes just by making a not so orthodox outfit choice. Of course some of the men would think she was a hardass because of it, but when she saunters away with a pretty brunette and stay in the bathroom longer than socially acceptable they begin to think other things. Of course even if these things are true it's none of their business and he tells them just that. Reminding them of the company rules against harassment and intimidation.

This doesn't stop him from waiting for her though. After another ten minutes the brunette slipping out from the bathroom a satiated look on her face Lucas is waiting. He keeps his eyes trained on the bathroom door but when he feels it's been too long he doesn't wait anymore. It is a company wide policy that most bathrooms be gender neutral and luckily this was one such one. He makes his way quietly into the single toilet, he tells himself it's just to make sure that she's okay. But when he sees the way she looks he can't help but ask her.

"Did you have fun?" It's an innocent enough question but the implications of it are anything but innocent.

"Are you mad?" She doesn't even startle at his presence, as if she knew he would be looking for her. It takes him a second to really be able to answer her. He thinks about it long and hard.

"I can't be mad, because I was the one that let you slip away from me." He regards her with a soft wisftfulness that makes both their hearts ache. It hurts to look at her lipstick smudged and hair disheveled when he wasn't the one who's done it. He wonders if the woman she's just hooked up with knows.

"If I had held you longer, maybe you wouldn't have slipped out of the bed that night. We could've woken up to each other we could've-"

"You know that's not true. Don't even pretend for a second your parents would've given up your arranged marriage."

"We don't know that, we could've been more persistent! We could've begged." His eyes are alight, wild with all of the things he might have done to stay with her had he known it would hurt him this much.

"No, it wouldn't have changed anything. Just like every other rich person the only thing you and your whole family value is money and power. It doesn't matter how much they liked me." The words come out of her mouth as sharp as razor blades and they cut. They cut so deep and so hot it almost makes him dizzy. He knows she doesn't mean it, she's just upset because he'd almost caused her friendship to fall through. He deserves it but just because it was true about his parents doesn't mean it was for him.

"You don't understand how much I love you." He steps forward, tears threatening to pour down his beautiful face. She will regret her next words for the rest of her life. But she must say them even if they aren't true, even if they hinder her from happiness.

"I understand, but it's that my understanding does not matter. Jaeun loves you." Her words echo through different times and spaces it seems. They beat at the two of them brutally. They make it hard to breathe.

"Do you love me?" He steps closer, words falling from his lips like water from a faucet. They begin to flood the room with their intensity, the water is at their shins. She steps back.

"Jaeun loves you." A shake of her head and the room is flooded higher, the water at their hips now. He takes another step forward.

"Do you love me?" The words are at their chests now and she shakes her head again, tears mirroring the ones steaming down his face.

"Jaeun loves you." He stops when she is almost against the wall but doesn't proceed forward.

"Do you love Jaeun?"

"I do, with all that is in me. She's been my only friend through all of this. I can't betray her." The words are at their throats now, they choke her so that her speech is airy and labored. They press at her chest. He knew that he would drown in her, he just didn't realize he would never be saved.

"But loving me, you already have." He steps away and she can already breathe better when her senses aren't so full of him.

"I never said-"

"You didn't have to." The smile he gives her is preposterously solemn for such a wide showcase of his teeth.

"Jaeun loves you." She whispers back to him, head bowed and eyes looking at the shiny leather of his shoes.

"I know, but I love you. " He turns away from her and begins his exit and subsequently his descent into madness. Every step he takes from her causes her to fall just a bit closer to the floor, by the time he is gone she is already on her knees gasping for air.

Jaeun waits for him outside the room with an eerily stoic face. He knows she has heard everything but he doesn't care, he hopes she wants a divorce but to his surprise she offers him her usual smile. Normally he'd think it was full of charm but her words...her very words tell him she was simply a snake all along.

"Let's go home, I'll help you forget about her."

They were so caught up in the turmoil of their relationship they hadn't even seen the signs. The seeds that Jaeun had sowed. And now, they played right into her hand. But for her sake, he'd do everything to make sure she wouldn't find out.

"I don't need or want whatever it is you're offering me. What I want is for you to get the fuck away from me." His words come out scathing, he puts every bit of malice he can into each and every letter. But it just makes Jaeun laugh, she then fixes him with a look so sinister it almost makes him shiver.

"Don't be silly. The second the two of you got together there was already a due date on your relationship. You were never meant to be forever, there was a deadline and it ended exactly when I decided it to. Really it's your fault for ever getting involved with her in the first place." She ends it with a sneer marring her pretty features and so loud he hushes her fearing that his lover might hear.

"Is it really my fault?" The thought seems ludicrous to him but all Jaeun needs is that inch of doubt in his voice to take it a full mile.

"Of course it is baby, you're just as awful as I am. But it's okay, I forgive you." He lets her pull him away after that, head so clouded with her words he can barely manage to walk correctly. It was true, he knew he was getting an arranged marriage and his parents knew but still he…

He would make sure that she'd be happy anyway he could even if it meant being in a relationship with Jaeun.

The years spread between them like a desert, sands of time speeding up and slowing down in frequent intervals that they can't change though sometimes they wish they could. Lucas' marriage to Jaeun is nothing more than a facade and his deserves an Oscar for his performance every time she comes around. Sometimes he wonders why Jaeun keeps her if she doesn't really see her as a friend but then remembers that Jaeun is cruel and enjoys watching the two of them pine. Whenever he kisses Jaeun he feels her lips ghosting across his own. Whenever he touches Jaeun he feels her skin soft and supple. Whenever he fucks Jaeun he really wishes he could make love to her. And whenever he sees their daughter though he loves her to death, he wishes her mother was another woman. He especially wishes it when she comes around to babysit.

Jaeun takes her cruelty to a whole new degree when she begins to ask her "friend" to babysit for her. 'She's just so tired and Lucas is always so busy.' And it isn't entirely a lie, but Lucas had long since been working from home just to be able to catch a glimpse of her in passing. He didn't think his heart could ache more but it does the moment he hears it. He watches from around the corner to the kitchen, peering in and spying like a shadow.

"Mommy can we have chicken for lunch?" His daughter had just begun to learn how to enunciate her words better. Four years old and Jaeun had hardly stepped in to care for the child, she wasn't a mother any more than she was a wife this much was evident from their daughters words.

"I'm not your mommy darling, you can call me auntie though." She bends down to pat Jisoo on the head. Eyes tender with a longing she could not put into words.

"But you act like a mommy, can't you be my mommy? Can we please have chicken?" The four year old pouts up at her, Lucas nearly swoons. Everyone knows that it's true, even the maid and butler agreed she was a much better fit for Jaeun at motherhood. But secrets should never be uttered aloud.

"We can have chicken Jisoo, but you can't keep calling me that. At least not in front of everyone." Jisoo lights up at the prospect of some kind of compromise.

"Does that mean I can still call you mommy?" She hushes the child and leans in close to her. Lucas has to strain to hear the words that come from her.

"Yes, but only when we're alone and you have to be very quiet. It'll be our little secret, promise?" She holds out her pinky for Jisoo to wrap her smaller one around.

Lucas returns to his office with a smile on his face, something he'd not worn in such a long time the staff gave him strange looks, whispers of rumors beginning. It made no difference to him, he'd just been so happy to keep their secret safe. A secret made for two.

#wayv scenarios #wayv smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #lucas scenarios #lucas smut #xuxi scenarios #xuxi smut #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #kpop angst #wayv angst #nct angst #nct wayv #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: manipulation #tw: abusive relationship

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fenheart87 · 4 years

Text

Healing the Magic

For @bloody-no-kissu happy belated birthday!

-start-

“Well hello there, sniffer’s no good upwind.” Luka kept his relaxed posture, no need to scare the young woman, especially when he had no way of knowing what she was capable of. "Rest easy lass, just a wee break for the legs before finishing my journey. Beautiful women are welcome to the river beside me, I don't bite."

Marinette snorted and moved closer, much more at ease with the werewolf as he was coherent. Carefully she scooped some water from the flow of the river with a chipped bowl and carefully filled her canteen. Silently she thanked the river spirits that this one was untainted by the illness that was flooding the capital. Once her canteen was full, she filled a few vials and other potion bottles. She would need moon water but that was harder to come by, unless…

"Pray tell furry friend," she smiled at the eye roll and continued, "if I were to say leave a basin to be touched by Sister Moon would you place a watchful eye and help me to gather pure water from a full and a new moon?"

"Moon water aye?" Blue eyes narrowed in consideration and a healthy dose of wariness. "And what would a young lass such as yourself need any type of moon water for?"

"I come from the Agreste ranch, rescued as a healer for the ailing late Madame Emilie Agreste. Since her passing and resting of her soul, I have been helping to use my skills for those in the nearby town, most wounds heal best under a full moon. Other times I must raise defense for myself against those who wish to harm a skilled healer such as myself. I understand if you cannot help." Marinette simply returned to drinking fresh water from the river and making sure she had collected enough for her next round of potions.

"Lilly wheat grows yonder the hill to the west, right along the tree line. It can be tricking to navigate, I swear to watch yer things should you need to gather it."

Surprise covered her features, it was exactly what she was looking for and made her rethink this werewolf and wonder, how did he recognize the potion? "Many thanks, should you need flea repellent, there is thistle burn about two miles east of here."

"Ah the smell would be unmistakable." Nodding his shaggy head in thanks and reclined on the other bank, he seemed to be done with conversation.

"I'll take you up on your kind offer stranger, I'll be swift." Marinette heard the snort but paid it no mind as she gathered her dagger, amulet and her bag for the herbs she had collected. Swapping the jars of water for a few empty ones, she made her way to the west. Humming some disguised spells, Marinette committed the path to memory and found a few alternate routes for future trips. Sure enough she spotted lilly wheat from its lavender and pale blue coloring, it was a hybrid lookalike of wheat and blue bell flowers. Gathering as much as she could to fill the jars to the max and even stuffed her apron pockets to the brim. Making her way back, she heard a few twigs snap and the trees across the river had a slight sway, signalling the werewolf just left.

"Thank you kind wolf!" Upon reaching the middle of the clearing, she noticed both collection jars were missing. Smiling, she made a note to return in a month's time.

________________________________________

The walk helped clear her senses, too much magic and illness in the capitol had clouded Marinette's magical innate ability to sense other beings. Nature was usually at a neutral point unless tainted by those who lived in the area. Out here so far away from anything or even the manor of vampires she cohabitated with was still pure and loved to trade her negative things with a positive rush of natural magic. It was quite a boost and usually she stored it in her crystals, sometimes bringing them with her to recharge if she was able to stay for a long period.

The tree line broke and the sounds of the river filled her ears and the birds sounded louder than before. Marinette basked in the cheer floating in the air and made her way to the natural alter that she frequently used as her desk. Noticing a note hidden under a rock with a gem tied to it. Carefully she pulled the letter free, not wanting to touch the gem in case it was rigged with a spell.

'Hello Witchling,

I trust your fortnight has been fruitful and as you asked, I was indeed able to get both water from the new moon and the full moon. Untouched completely by every element but the collected water and the air itself. The gem is a family heirloom, there is a hidden cave and it shall lead you to it with just a drop of water from the river.

The Big Friendly Wolf'

Giggling to herself, she did as the note bade and with a touch of cursory magic, determined it was harmless. Dipping a finger in the river for a drop of water, Marinette followed the glowing red light to the cave where her collection jars waited for her, completely untouched. Taking care, she poured the water into the marked pots and carefully sealed them for transportation. This would be plenty for what she needed and Marinette made a note to make something for the helpful Were. Leaving the crystal with the note in the cave, she set off to gather the few missing herbs left. It took only a few minutes of scouting when her senses sparked in alarm, there was another magical signature drawing closer and it was unfamiliar. Deciding the risk was worth it, Marinette touched her amulet and teleported back into the agreste stronghold.

Dizziness filled her vision for a moment and she steadied herself with a few deep breaths. Looking around her room, she noticed nothing out of order and apart from the usual lingering traces of her magic and of Adrien's, everything was still. Grabbing a couple cookies to help her nausea, Marinette teleported back out of the castle and to the nearby wood. It would make it seem as if she skipped over the mountain and river instead of jumping right through every defense that Gabriel had set. Normally the elder vampire had no qualms with her use of magic but he disapproved of it greatly and even forbade Marinette to teach his son. The magic had chosen the young heir and there was not a thing she could do to stop it but that was a long time before they needed to discuss anything if her luck had anything to do with it, she dearly hoped she would be released from their service before then.

The guard, a quiet man whom Adrien called Gorilla, nodded in greeting and let her pass unharmed. Not many could come and go as they pleased, it was a hard earned honor to be rarely granted. Resuming her humming, her magic reached out and brushed against Adrien's, giving her a clear path to follow. Turning left instead of her normal right, the torches illuminated her way. The only thing King Gabriel requested to be enchanted at all times and now only let Marinette or Felix boost them when the stored magic was running low.

"Oh posh, you know as well as I do your father is hardly that." A foreign voice could be heard as she approached the heir's chambers.

"I'm not having this argument again, either you can shut up or I'll have your tongue." Adrien rarely snapped and it caused the witch's curiosity to peak even more. The moment of silence was her best bet, knocking in a familiar pattern and humming a containment spell, Marinette opened the door and slipped inside quickly.

"Oi! You never told me Tikki was here!" The blurry black form was hissing and thrashing in anger, the spell working like a charm.

"Oh you must be Plagg! I thought Mullo said you were a cute cat with a bad attitude?" Marinette wondered aloud, smiling in greeting to the frozen vampire.

"Mullo?! Wait wait wait! You're Marinette!"

Plagg settles into his hybrid form, acid green eyes and fluffy black ears being the first clear features to show. He stepped out of the transformation smoke and his body clad in black robes became solid, a slender tail flicking in excitement behind him.

"Oh no, you talk about me?!" Marinette shrieked in alarm, dropping the bag she had forgotten.

"Hold on, what in the Hell's Fires is going on here?" Adrien cut in, looking at the Demigod and his healer in anger and confusion.

"Oh Adrien, you know my true talents are not in healing so I know the Demigods when I see them. I've always known you're magic kissed like your mother." She smiled guiltily as the shock filled his face.

"Of course we talk about you, there's only one of you even century if we're lucky. A Destined is something to be proud of and you are definitely a very special one too. I'd love to see what kind of chaos we could create." His smile was full of fangs and a mischievous gleam shone from his eyes.

"Maybe one day, especially since I was forbade from teaching any magic and now you're contracted to Adrien." Marinette surmised, it was the only explanation as to why the demigod would actually be there in person.

"Father will never learn to trust me will he?" The blonde sighed deeply, defeat easy to read in his hunched form.

"He fears the illness that took your mother will take you as well…" Marinette hesitated, looking to Plagg for permission to disclose the truth; a move that Adrien noticed and pounced on.

"What are you hiding from me?" He rose from the chair, brow furrowed in anger and stalked towards the shorter woman.

"I cannot say, the King has his ways of forbidding even the most noble of truths." She turned her gaze to the floor in preservation, a vampire's thrall wasn't effective enough to hold her for long but it did cause severe damage.

"He marked you." They had nearly forgotten the demigod was in the same room. "That bastard! Touching a Destined with Darkened Magic is forbidden!"

"I had no idea I was a Destined, my powers never came in until I became lost in the Forbidden Woods." Her voice was soft with sadness but still clearly heard. "This means he will have to be put to death doesn't it?"

The silence from the demigod was loud enough in its own right. King Gabriel would pay the price of meddling with the Darkened Magic, the blackest of black magic and required sacrifices of souls and thousands of blood rituals or even contracts with demons. The penalty was raised even more for using the Darkened Magic on a Destined and stunting Marinette’s growth and endangering her life, a Demigod had chosen her and had been denied the right to connect with her because of Gabriel's foolishness.

"You'll rise to your place in the throne then Prince Adrien."

"You can't be serious, killing my father? For using magic on a witch?" Adrien cried, waving his arm carelessly.

"Boy, Magic Kissed you are but Chosen you are not! I will take you down with him should you choose to go against the wish of the Gods!" Plagg snarled, teeth glinting sharply in the candlelight.

Adrien started at the show of anger and reacted with fangs bared and eyes darkening to red. The predator was unused to feeling truly like prey, even in front of his father and his fight or flight instinct was set to fight. Marinette hummed herself, layering a few protective spells over herself and Plagg, surprising the demigod enough to whip his head and stare at her in disbelief.

"You're Tikki's chosen…" Adrien calmed a bit and glowered at the two that had suddenly forgotten him.

"I wouldn't know." Marinette whispered, barely heard by either male.

"Look kid, either he dies and you step up to be the man they need you to be or you'll suffer at the end of my claws as well. You have until sundown to decide. Little witchling, I shall keep in touch. There will be three parting gifts in your room and with your smarts you'll put it all together." Plagg bowed slightly, a show of respect to Marientte which had her and Adrien shocked as the demigod disappeared.

"We need to act normal for the time being. I'll see you at dinner." Adrien spoke dismissively, an echo of Gabriel's attitude behind his words. Marinette was left with no choice but to retire to her room.

Her room was alive in the way only a witch could truly achieve, the flora was bursting with healthy green leaves and big bright beautiful blooms. The air carried a weight of the magic she often conjured within the four walls, positive and practice vibes floating playfully past one another to create a safe atmosphere. Little did anyone realize the room itself was enchanted and she could move the entire thing at will, it was difficult as it required a lot of magic but with the help of Moon Water, she could do it and hide away to regain her strength.

"Alright, time to get to work." Marinette opened her chest and humming a light airy tune, the shelves floated off the walls and slowly drifted into the chest, allowing her time to select certain ingredients. Taking a deep breath she changed her tune and her furniture began to shrink and floated into the chest as well. The young witch was about three quarters depleted of her magic, Marinette had suspicions that Gabriel had something to do with it.

"Okay, time to juice up. Just a little bit, nothing major. Nothing ventured, nothing gained after all." She muttered under her breath, trying to shake off the sudden nerves. Tapping into the last of her power, Marinette focused on the new moon water and held the clear quartz above it, near breaking concentration as it began to float. Starting a soft hum, the water took a shiny quality and the crystal glowed in response. Very thin multicolored wisps of smoke drifted back and forth, showing a tangible power exchange between both stored magics. Once the water no longer shined and the smoke faded fully, she stopped humming.

"One more step and onto freedom…" Blue eyes took in the half packed state of her room, fingers already reaching for her Amethyst to charge with the Full Moon water. This was easier as there was only a little need for direction, the power was already there and no need to purify or mix with another essence. Gently she placed the crystal to float on top of the water and with a whisper of a chant, the process began.

Marinette moved around the room and tossed the shrunken furniture into the chest, convincing her plants to sleep for the trip and even getting some to shrink into seeds for packing purposes. Once everything was cleared and stored away, the young witch turned back to the crystal and pot, the process about halfway done. Steeling herself, Marinette grabbed a ring she rarely wore when staying inside the castle, strands of gold layered and twisted to form a beautiful rose. This was one of her more precious gifts, it also lent the ability to disguise everything tattletale from vampires.

"Now to make it through dinner… And hopefully out of here alive."

Dinner was a quiet affair, the tension could be felt by even the servants who were speedy about setting down the dishes and retreating as quickly as they could without triggering a chase from an angry vampire.

"I thought King Gabriel was to join us?" Marinette asked politely, forcing herself to enjoy the cooked lamb at a moderate pace.

"Father had some unexpected business to attend to." Adrien had finished sucking his peice dry and moved on to the goblet of blood wine.

"I hope nothing too strenuous."

"Father can handle anything."

Once she was finished, the table was cleared for dessert. The young witch knew this would be her moment as everyone else had left the room and if things were to go south, they would be spared from Adrien's wrath. Gathering courage, she rose from her seated position and bowed slightly.

"If you have a moment to spare, I would like to discuss something with you."

"So be it, speak your piece." Adrien leaned back in the chair, his persona more and more like his father every day but never closer than in that moment.

"After the events I am resigning from my position as healer for the Agreste Coven."

"Marinette, there's no reason to have this discussion." He sighed heavily and rose from his seat, turning to leave.

"There's no reason for me to be here any longer Adrien. My original reason for employment has been null for a long time. I feel it's time to leave and further my skills, that cannot be done while in here. There's nothing for me to learn." As a human she knew this would trigger what was left of his humanity and kept her breathing even to avoid the blow up

Adrien spun around suddenly, knocking off the dinnerware from the table. The plate was a near miss from cutting Marientte's bare feet but she stood her ground, after all no matter how nice Adrien was, there was still a predator in his heart. Green eyes blazed with anger and a low snarl ripped from his throat, it had no effect on her after so long of being in his service. "You dare mock me and then presume to leave me!? For the flea bitten mongrel at that?"

"I'd rather lay with that so-called mongrel and risk fleas than be with you a moment longer than I have to." Marinette calmly stated, pulling on her inner strength to not let her ring fail her and reveal how fast her pulse was truly racing.

"What is this really about Marinette? Did I not give you all the splendor and treasures you could want? I let you choose a trade and keep your money from it, supporting you and never asking for you to repay your debt with me. Have I ever hurt you?" Adrien spread his arms dramatically, appearing innocent except for the look of rage taking over his face.

"Adrien. Do not make this a big deal, Plagg is already watching you closely." Praying to the demigod himself that Adrien wouldn't be able to call her bluff. "I am not a prize to be won or fought over, I am most certainly not yours. You have never hurt me nor have I you, please do not change that."

"Then leave, when you get fleas do not come crying to me." Adrien spun and left the dining hall, anger leaking from him.

Marinette wasted no time, teleporting back to her room and casting a cloaking spell on the chest. The transfer was done and quickly she saved the water for both by sealing the collection pots temporarily. The crystals went onto the pouch at her waist, Marinette noticed that there was more than usual and smiled in relief.

"One of three found little witchling. Best hurry to get out of here before my kitten blows a gasket." Plagg commented lazily, floating above the opening of her door.

"Thank you for your watchful eyes Plagg." Dropping into a quick curtsey and drawing a quiet chuckle from the Demigod, the witch finished packing what little was left. Humming brightly, she gasped as the chest shrunk into a perfect sized bracelet.

"The least I can do to help rectify the wrong that has been done towards you. Mayhaps you should find a mentor that has knowledge of God's and Divination."

"Consider it done! Master Fu told me if i ever needed anything to go see him at the Temple of Heroes." Marinette smiled brightly and with a wink, teleported into the clearing she favored. She miscalculated how drained she was on magic as something solid but somewhat squishy.

"Well lass, did not expect you to fall into my lap quite like this." The werewolf's deep timber caused a shiver to run up her spine.

"Not quite my intention but I do need help and a certain big friendly werewolf would be quite helpful against the big scary vampires."

"Well lassie, you're in luck. Just hang on." He shifted her to his back and she clung on for dear life with a huge smile on her face. Time to live for herself.

#miraculous lb #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #lukanette endgame #plagg is a little shit

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an-otome-cally-correct · 5 years

Text

Fluff Drabbles

So this is just a little thing I did way back when as some sort of exercise for myself that I wanted to share. They're too short to post on their own, so here's all the bitey bois. If you wanna read more of my stuff, then check here.

Napoleon and Early Mornings

Once in a while, he would get the better of her and woke up before she did. It was a small thing to some, but it wasn’t everyday he’d get to see the peaceful expression she wore as she slept, or see the sparkle in her eyes when she opened them and realizes he’s the first thing to greet her. He’d try to wake up earlier, if only sleeping with her in his arms didn’t feel just as good.

Leonardo and Cleaning

The library would be in a certain level of disarray whenever he was inside, that much was true. It was never intentional - just the product of ideas coming and going, one after the other - and he was grateful she was so patient with him and his organized chaos. Sometimes though, he’d make just a bit more of a mess than usual, so she has an excuse to spend her time at work with him.

Mozart and Sick Days

When it came to the occasional flus and fevers, they’d always leave it to their resident doctor-turned-writer, but if the ailing person was her, he insisted that he stay by her side at all times. Even when he had work to do, he’d rather do so in her room - for a change of scenery, of course. Even when she insisted that she was fine, he stayed - because obviously someone asked him to keep an eye on her. Even when she threatened that he’d catch whatever she had, he would tell her it was alright - that’d just mean she’d have to take care of him then.

Arthur and Vic

It was both a blessing and a curse that Vic adored her, and vice versa. He had come to realize that man’s best friend was also man’s worst rival when it came to her. An actual, lovestruck pup, Vic would follow her around - in the halls, in the garden, in her room, while he, on the other hand, had manuscripts to write. Even on dates, Vic would follow them up until they reached the gates, and she’d ask if they could take the small dog along. More often than not - or more like, always - he’d let Vic come too.

Vincent and Shopping

Whenever he had to go to town, he made it a point to always bring her with him, and he could give several reasons why, if anyone were to ask. One, so she could get out more. Two, so he could spent more time with her. Three, so he could see what little knick knacks would catch her eye. She wasn’t too keen on receiving gifts - always too shy, too modest - but getting her a nice ribbon or a cute pin every now and again wouldn’t hurt.

Theodorus and Night Outs

How she had ever talked him into letting her join them for their nights at the bar, he’d never understand. It wasn’t always, thankfully. He wouldn’t know what to do if he had to drive away every single man that dared approach her, every single night. She was much too charming for her own good, really, not that he’d ever admit to that, of course. On the other hand, having her walk beside him through the quiet evening streets on the way home was infinitely better than the company he would otherwise have, and it was almost enough for him to consider inviting her himself next time - almost.

Isaac and Food

From the very beginning, he knew it was utterly hopeless. He wanted to try, for her, especially for her, but there really were just some things he wasn’t meant to do. But then breakfast, lunch and dinner would roll around and he’d hear her gush over the meal, all smiling and giggling, and he just knew he had to try again. One of these days, he was going to cook for her and he was going to be the one that puts a smile on her face.

Dazai and Leaves

Every now and again, he’d come back from a walk and catch her staring at him with a certain expression on her face - lips in a pout, eyebrows in a furrow. Clearly, something was troubling her, but before he’d get the chance to ask, she’d murmur an apology and pluck a leaf from his hair. It happened often enough that nowadays, he’d purposefully seek her out to make sure nothing unexpected had clung onto him whenever he came back. It was a perfect excuse to direct her attention his way.

Shakespeare and Hard Work

Granted, he wasn’t the most trustworthy person. She might know, and trust, and love him, but everyone else that surrounded her - that was a completely different story. He had brought all of this hardship upon himself, he knew, but if it was something he had gotten himself into, then it was something he could get out of. It might take some time, some effort, some sacrifice, to mend and heal and rebuild, but if it made him worthy to stand by her side, then he would risk it all.

Jean and Gardening

There were risks to having a tiger cub as a pet, obviously, which was the whole reason why he trained Cherie - to cause as little trouble as possible. However, a cub was still a cub, and as with any youngling, it was bound to stir up some form of chaos. This time, the garden was the victim, and seeing that Sherry couldn’t help with returning the greenery to its former glory, he had to take the tiger’s place and help her with the replanting. It wasn’t particularly troublesome or difficult, but the way she cheered him on and marveled over the littlest things were very endearing and very much appreciated.

The Count and Home

It had been a long time since he first acquired the mansion, and over the course of the years, it had changed in its own ways, big and small. What was once empty and cold was now brimming with life and warmth, thanks to the residents that had both left and remained. But if he had to give his honest opinion, while all the great men he had brought back had made the mansion noisier than it used to be, she was the one who made it all the more worthwhile to come back every time, who made it worth calling 'home'.

Sebastian and Rewards

Sometimes he wondered if it was all too much for her - the work, the people, the era, the circumstances - but every time he’d begin to worry, she’d face him with a smile, a genuine smile, and all his doubts would be laid to rest. Still, it didn’t mean that she wasn’t having any trouble, and there were times that it really did show. On days like those, he let her catch her breath and take the day off, feed her good food and tell her entertaining stories, until her brilliant smile returned.

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efrmellifer · 4 years

Text

Reclaimed

Aymeric’s gaze was intense as he watched Etien, perched on the loveseat, knitting needles flashing, the baby blanket she worked on taking the place of the usual blanket on her lap to keep her warm. She was nearly finished with this one, meaning that she would begin work on its twin soon.

Even so, as the yarn passed through her fingers, being woven into the blanket that grew and grew with every new row and the typical click of her switching the needles from hand to hand, he knew there was something else going on. Maybe it was the speed of her hands, or the tension of the yarn, but he could just tell. Something had gotten to Etien and now she was thinking.

So he rose from where he was sitting, so far away across the room, and sat down next to her.

“Get cold and bored over there?” she asked, not looking up from the tips of her needles. She had already cursed at a dropped stitch twice; he could only imagine she was trying not to see if the third time was the charm, and she had to rip up a whole row for it.

“Well, I do feel warmer sitting next to you,” he admitted.

She smiled, grip tight on the ends of the knitting so it didn’t unravel, and she turned to him. “And I thought you were trying to set my dress on fire with your mind. You had such a severe look on your face when I looked up. Is something wrong?”

Aymeric blinked, unaware that she had even looked at him. “Er, no. I was actually wondering the same about you. You look troubled.”

“Oh, that. I’ve been… turning something over in my mind ever since we got that last letter.”

“Another didn’t come, did it? I fully intend to make good on my offer to read them and relay their contents so you have no need to deal with the insults that come in addition.”

Etien shook her head, going back to her knitting for a few stitches before she spoke again. “No, I was thinking that there has to be a way to prevent any more of them from coming at all.”

Aymeric felt himself frown when he’d processed what she’d said. “And how would you propose to do that?”

“Well, I would have to go to Alder Springs, wouldn’t I?” She went back to the knitting, a little more aggressively now than she had been. So the idea agitated her. And yet she was going to do it?

Aymeric let it sink it, then roll over in his mind a few times. He couldn’t control Etien. He’d known for as long as he’d known her that was the case. Sometimes it reminded him of Haurchefant. Like they were blood siblings, almost, he thought. He couldn’t control her, but he had always been able to influence her, the way she influenced him. Changing each other slowly and Ishgard rapidly.

So he had to try to convince her. He came to a knee in front of her, hands folded on her knee, avoiding her bobbing foot and bouncing slipper. “Etien,” he murmured, waiting for her to look up at him. “Do not go to Alder Springs, dear-heart. Certainly not like this.” He didn’t say it, but what pressed at his lips, straining to be given voice was, “or I shall have to follow you.”

Her eyebrows dipped. “But what choice do I have? They’ve seen that the girl they once thought dead is in fact a living woman in a city not so far away, and now they bombard me with letters to rain more tragedy on my life. More never-ending tragedy.”

“Never-ending?” Aymeric asked, hand sliding up her leg until he rested it on her forearm.

She looked up at him again. “Broken up with moments of rapturous joy. Almost always when you’re involved.” She laughed lightly, but it dried out before she continued. “But I left the home in which I had spent my entire life heartbroken and made a fool of, only to be found by Hydaelyn with Lyse and Paplymo hot on Her heels to rope me into taking up the yoke. I fight the gods of the ‘beastmen,’ Ascians, dragons, imperial armies, and the embodiment of what happens when this tenuous balance is shifted, all without a break to breathe. At least, no break I don’t make for myself.”

Aymeric was silent, though Etien had taken his hand, so he squeezed it.

“But when I do, when I come back to you and I can relax, it’s as though I’ve never known sadness from all the happiness that I’m filled with.”

He squeezed her hand again. “Then please do not subject yourself to more of that sorrow. It’s as I told you—this is your fortress. If you leave it, I will happily come with to keep you safe, but I would rather not see you suffer so.”

She sighed through her nose. “All right.”

“All right?”

She nodded once. “All right. Stay with me, and I’ll stay here.”

He kissed the back of her hand, still clasped with his. “Happily, I again take the vow to do just that.”

“I worry about what being the Warrior of Light has done to her,” Aymeric remarked into his ale.

“Is she complaining of injuries?” Estinien asked, putting his own drink down. “She never mentioned anything like that to me.”

“No. But does she complain?”

“Not often,” Estinien conceded with a shrug. “So what concerns you?”

“She brought up going to Alder Springs.”

When he was met with silence, Aymeric looked over to see only confusion on Estinien’s face.

“Her childhood home. Where her parents still live. And ailing grandparents that they keep writing to her about.”

“Ah. Is it distressing her?”

“She thinks I haven’t noticed. But she wanted to go see them, hoping it would quell them, make them leave her—leave us—alone.”

Estinien sucked his teeth. “Not bloody likely.”

“I know. Moreover, she’s heavily expectant.”

There was a long silence between them. That, of course, was obvious, but its dark suggestion was a little less defined.

“Do you think her safety would be at risk?” Estinien asked finally.

“More like her sanity. She has gotten too used to having to be the one that takes responsibility, that does the most difficult and dangerous part of the plan. Now she immediately plans the hard part for herself and devotes herself to seeing it through. She still wakes up in tears from memories she didn’t ask to have awoken in her mind, from actions she was forced to take. She still flinches when people shout, when I clench my jaw, and yet she thinks she has no other choice than to go see her parents.” He took a long drink of his ale and put it down harder than he had intended, wincing when it met the table with a loud thud. His voice was weak and on the verge of breaking when he said, “She’s going to collapse under the weight. I don’t want it to happen.”

Estinien pulled Aymeric to his side, shushing him softly. “Neither do I.” He patted Aymeric’s back, hoping there would be no tears, and then let him go, though he made sure they were still sitting close. “Have you reminded her that she has a father here who would never hurt her that way?”

“Not in so many words.” Aymeric picked up the ale again, then put it down with a scoff. “I have the feeling it would make little difference. She has the right of it, when she says that they thought her dead. Reclaimed by the Black Shroud. But I think whoever she had been then… is. Dead, I mean. She didn’t leave them as the Warrior of Light.”

“Do you ever wonder what she might have been like before then? She had already been a lauded adventurer when we met her.”

“I try not to think about it,” Aymeric admitted. Now he drank again, just for something to do with his hands and his mouth. But it was true, he didn’t think about it, as much as he could. He knew that there was only a very slim chance that she had changed that much, but he didn’t like to even imagine that there was a version of Etien that wasn’t the one he loved so much.

The one who was so incredibly strong, but in the way once-broken bones were strong. Nothing could happen on a chocobo cart to have forged her anew, so adventuring had been the flame and the anvil.

Haurchefant had brought him—him and Estinien—a woman of bronze hair and steel resolve. What she had been before then was immaterial. What she was now was theirs. And wonderful. And deserving of the world, or as much of it as they could provide.

“I choose to love her as she is,” he responded at last. “When I met her, I loved her, and that has not changed. It would be a waste of time to speculate on whether or not I would love someone I don’t know.”

Estinien nodded. “And there are better ways to waste time, when she’s here now to be loved.”

“Precisely.”

They both drank.

That night, when Aymeric slipped into bed beside Etien, she curled up extra close to him, sniffling as she relaxed into his arms.

“Did you have another dream?” he asked, whispering into the flicking of her ear.

She simply nodded.

“What was it this time?”

“He”-- she never had to use his name, it was clear who she meant and that she didn’t want to name him-- “was telling me how I’d disappointed him. That I should be more like he remembered me, back when he’d loved me. ‘But how could he love what I had become?’ He said.”

Aymeric swallowed, hoping his upset at the notion would go down with the saliva. But oh, that rage was an unpleasant thing to have to quaff.

“How could he love what?”

“Me, now that I wasn’t… how I had been, so long ago. But I can remember back then, too. I didn’t- I didn’t return his feelings, Aymeric. Not then and not now. Which only makes it worse.”

He wanted to ask, made what worse? but he was silent, waiting for Etien to elaborate at her own speed and comfort.

“That he says, every time, that he’d never felt such betrayal in all his lifetimes. It’s all I was to him—a disappointment in an unattainable love, and now as a shadow of what he built me up to be. He expected more of me, and I can’t- I can’t live up to those expectations. Did—” she sobbed once—“it makes me wonder if he really ever knew me. Her. Us.”

“How could he love you if he did not know you?” Aymeric asked. “I could never speak to someone I loved that way.”

“I know,” she blubbered, turning to bury her face in his chest. She hiccuped. “It never made me feel loved. It made me feel…” she sobbed again. “I never asked for this.”

A loud knock on the front door startled both of them.

When they answered it, bleary-eyed in Aymeric’s case and red-eyed in Etien’s, Estinien just sighed. “I had a feeling it was one of those nights. May I come in?”

“Please,” Aymeric said, stepping back from the doorway, guiding Etien back with him so she didn’t stumble.

“Would some warm milk go amiss with the two of you?” Estinien asked as he stepped through. “You look like you need it.”

“None for me,” Etien mumbled. “It would upset my stomach.”

“Then warm tea?” he asked, tipping her chin up. “You’ve been crying. Maybe just a warm embrace.”

He drew her into his arms, and though she tensed for a moment, more tears slipped down her cheeks as she hugged him back.

When he let her go, he hugged Aymeric briefly with a squeeze to punctuate it, then headed to the kitchen to get them all their drinks.

The three of them sat on the bed when they were ready, steaming mugs occupying their hands. They all blew on the hot liquids in their cups, drinking slowly.

There were sighs of unburdening in the room, instead of appreciative hums. But when the cups were emptied, they laid in a loose tangle, sounding a little more contented when they were all together, the touch of loved ones soothing them maybe more than the beverages.

Some mix of the two helped the trio towards sleep, each with heavy eyelids that finally fluttered shut for the night.

It was easy to rest in one another’s arms, where they were known and loved, here and now.

#fic #Aytien #Wyrmelliferel #ish #it's angst! it's lore! it's fluff!#these are several Related Thoughts(TM) I've been having over the last week #please enjoy the way these three mitigate one another's suffering #the milk thing was Dae's idea

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jessiebanethedragon · 4 years

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The Village That Burned

It was cold, not the bitter and biting cold, but the still calm cold that follows after a peaceful snowfall. The kind of cold where you could lay in it until the snow melts. To a passerby that's exactly what she was doing, spending her free time laying in the snow. It wasn't until you got closer and realized she was covered only in tattered clothing and warm sticky blood that you realised the truth.

The village of Gable was spread out, each neighbor trying to be as far away from the other as they could possibly be. It was a loveless village, built to withstand the cruelty of those around them. The Dwarves resided in the center, their houses were once stacked together as a community but the empty rooms and buildings left crevasses where families once lived. They made up the smallest of the population, for the very reason that they were the bravest species ever to walk the continent.

The Orcs took up the space closest to the forest, their brutish nature keeping most other creatures at bay. Their watch towers spaced apart to watch the most amount of ground possible, serving as everything to them. If not for their weapons, the watchtowers would be the orcs prize possessions.

The Fae’s or Fairies (depending on your take of the entirety of the race) took the inner west side of Gable. They could be found farming or looking for anything else alive that they could make use of. Not typical actions for the magical creatures. But, after all, Gable wasn't exactly natural in itself.

Lastly, there was ‘The East’ as it was called. The East was empty, it had been for centuries and would remain that way for eternity. The legends say humans once inhabited the land, but that leaves little room for logic and little explanation for the dark magic that hovers over the area.

It was mid rotation the day it was found, freshly fallen snow covered the village and the smell of smoke was on the horizons, making the orcs ever on edge.

“My dad says the snow is a sign of death.” Dergu said, kicking it with his military boots. orc teenagers were known for their short temper and constant need for altercations. His face was already littered with marks. Rusty red scars contrasting to the dark armour they all had to wear.

“You’d think your kind would appreciate it.” Neglorum grunted. “Being that you hide easier in it.” Ah there it is, the grumpiness and bluntness of the dwarf. Already so clearly ingrained in Neglorum’s personality.

“Some of us, like warm weather and fresh air Neg.” Dergu spat. “We don't all have our heads affected by metal you know.” If not for their usual banter, one might think the two young adults hated each other. An onlooker would assume so, pale orc skin verses the darkness of a dwarfs. But for these two it was business as usual. (Heavens forbid they actually utilize the word friendship.)

“Insufferable.” A fleeting voice said from behind them. But before either boy could turn around the owner of the voice was in front of them. Ail Stone-Shade, or Stone, to people who knew him better than most, wasn't as short as Neg or as tall as Dergu but his Big black eyes and pointy ears gave him away.

“Would it kill you not to sneak everywhere you go?” Neglorum asked brushing past him to continue on their way. It was the end of the month, and that means all three boys have been sent by their families to tend to the biggest tree on the edge of the forest. If the species could agree on one thing it was that this tree was precious and the most talented of their young should be tasked with its upkeep.

“Just because you insist on trampling around doesn't mean I do.” Ail said, his light voice coming out as a song in the winds.

“What's wrong, Stone? Scared the donkeys on your farm will notice you?” Dergu chuckled, slinging his broadsword over his shoulder. Having removed it in a startle when the Fae had first arrived.

“Trust me,” Ail said. “I've been noticed by the two biggest donkeys here already.” he said with a signature smirk. And It wasn't long before the other two were chasing him down looking to push him into the ground for such a joke. But not as friends would of course, because in Gable friendships just aren't allowed.

The edge of the forest carried an air of calmness about it, the border of trees before the clearing that made way for the town. It felt like a forcefield keeping out the creatures that lay within the dense trees.

“You two would never guess what I saw three nights ago.” Dergu said once they had reached the edge of the town. There was a path that led their way which wasn't traveled by anyone within Gable. And for the three boys, it was a place where they could be themselves.

“Three nights ago?” Ail questioned, thinking back to the noises he heard and the energies he could feel from his animals. “Was it near the west?” Dergu nodded.

“About seven towers from your farm.” Using your friends living spaces as a measure for distance was the only kind of measuring Dergu ever used. At first, Ail and Neglorum assumed it was because orcs do not possess acute cartography skills. But then, one night when the three had planned to venture out into the night for some entertainment, Ail and Neglorum learned it was because Dergu always felt the need to keep the dangers away from his friends. They had been close enough to see the orc kill a possessed wolf that entered the city just before Ail’s farm. ‘That was too close.’ Dergu said. ‘Should have been disposed of two towers ago. That was too close to your quarters.’ Nothing else was said about the matter.

“So, what was it? Something new? What was it like? Armoured? Clawed?” Neglorum quirked. The technical side of his mind already works through what weapons could be effective against a new kind of threat.

“I do not believe I have seen anything like it before, it was dark so forgive the lack of description.” Ail and Neglorum nodded quickly excited by Dergus' tale. “You know the bone-creatures? Well this was like that, but the bones were half covered. And it pulled itself forward by its arms, not on its hind legs like usual.” Ail felt a cold wind travel up his spine, fleeting over his green toned skin and past his dark hair.

“What did you do with it?” he asked softly. Suddenly Dergu stopped walking and turned to face his friends, they were almost at the tree now, but this seemed to take precedence.

“That's the issue. We did not approach it, my legion had orders to hold all fire. And the thing just kept crawling until it collapsed.” Neglorum tugged on his light-coloured facial hair, the dirtied blonde, disheveled locks catching as he ran his hand through it.

“So, it just died? Just like that?” he asked. “What were the wounds like? Did you get a closer look Der?” Dergu shook his head in the negative.

“The wind took out our torches. We had them relit in moments, and when we looked the thing was gone. Like it had decomposed into the snow.” The three were silent as they resumed walking, each thinking through what the thing could have possibly been. It must have been a sight to get Dergu talking that much, while he was chatty for an orc he was still a man of little words.

“Well at least the tree is in good shape…” Ail started, trying to ease the uncomfortable silence. This was sacred in Gable, when you have people mingling together as they do, it is hard to accommodate all beliefs and ideals. But all would agree that the tree was a symbol of life and growth, and well, that was good enough. Nothing really changed about the tree, except for when the chosen representatives came to bring their offerings, Ail would chant a spell of fertilization and growth, Dergu would take the boot laces of fallen orcs and gently tie them to the branches as a symbol of the willingness to give, and Neglorum would place a moonlight jewel in the center of the trunk, removing the old one that had become dull. The tree would then look exquisitely ethereal, draped in leather, fairy dust floating by the leaves, and a shining clear crystal, all to show the utmost care for peace in the world.

They all set about their jobs once the boys had reached the tree, working slowly and carefully, Neglorum was finished first, as per usual, and set himself down to relax, staring out into the forest absentmindedly. Ail was finished second, joining his friend in the snow.

“It is a wild place isn't it?” Ail thoughtfully asked. Tilting his head to the side like he always did when he was deep in thought. All he got was a grunt in response. The dwarf enjoying his moment of peace with closed eyes. But it didn't last for much longer before Ail was hitting him softly but quickly to get his attention.

“Get up. Get up!” He punctuated each word with a tap on the leg. “There's something out there!” Neglorum rolled away mumbling:

“It’s just a rabbit or something. Stop your flapping”

“No, it’s too big, it’s different, I can feel it! Neglorum!!!” Ail got up and ran after him once he had noticed his friend walking away.

“Can you please talk sense into this big-eared idiot?” he asked Dergu, sounding only vaguely annoyed (perhaps because he couldn't be bothered to be fully annoyed, that would've been too much effort.)

“What's your problem Stone?” He asked.

“There’s something in the woods.” he replied curtly nodding his head in the direction of the source.

“Of course, there's something in the bloody woods. It's the woods.” Dergu sighed. Sometimes it was easy to forget the ignorance of a civilian compared to that of a soldier.

“I know, I know. I am speaking of something new that is in the woods.” Ail said for what felt like the millionth time. Sometimes he forgot that his company couldn't feel auras like he could. The group grew quiet, all trying to listen and look for anything that could hint to what was out there. Nothing moved, save for the wind rolling through the treeline.

“Well, arm up boys. Guess we’re going for a little wonder.” Dergu tried his best to not sound enthralled by the chance of an adventure.

“I think not, that is by far the last thing we shall be doing.” Neglorum huffed. “I mean really, Der, you think the three of us should go tromping through literal hell on the basis that Stone is a little jumpy?”

“Stay here if you insist on being such a coward.” Dergu snapped, “but whatever we find, we get to keep.” Thinking about it, Dergu was the most un-orc-ish an orc can be. He was kind, good for a conversation now and again, and most surprisingly, a tad clever. He knew for a fact, the prospect of finding and collecting something new, and something valuable, would be enough for Neglorum to come along.

“Orc smelling, dung heap.” Neglorum mumbled as he pushed past Dergu, making his way into the trees, knowing he’d been bested.

It was not long before Gable was completely out of sight, the sunlight was growing sparser by the moment and the trio was making their way through the forest. Ail leading the group in the direction he felt the presence coming from. And Dergu brought up the rear with his broadsword drawn and his wits (what little of them he had) about him.

The snow was clean, packed down by each footstep and in their wake a trail of dirtied footprints behind them. The mud left in the snow would be enough to find their way back afterwards. And while the sunlight was lacking the bright white of the snow was enough to keep the strangeness of the forest at bay. It was motionless, not a thing moved, no wind in the leaves, no rabbits springing from log to log. It was as if every living thing that should be there had just vanished. And it wasn't until they happened upon the creature that they knew why.

“No.” whispered Neglorum. “No, no, no, I knew we should not have done this. You ignorant Fae, you’ve killed us all.” All three boys had frozen in fear. Just on the other edge of the clearing they had happened upon, laid a figure, half buried in the snow. Red seeping out of the body and into the area around them.

“It cannot be.” Ail slurred, almost intoxicated by the waves of emotions coming off of the barely alive lifeform. “They are all dead, extinct. There hasn't been one around for millennia.”

“Well how about we kill this one and high tail it out of here.” Dergu snapped. Clenching his weapon until his pale knuckles were beyond white. Ail hesitated, something still wasn't right.

“I think it is dying Der, I think it is done for.” Carefully he took a light step towards the figure. Neither of his companions moved, frozen by fear and shock, and admiration for his bravery all at the same time. The thing was breathing. Very, very slowly. The tiny puffs of air clouding in the atmosphere as the chest rose and fell. Kneeling down, Ail focused on the face, or what he could see of it. He didn't think he had ever seen so much blood collected on a living being before. Its eyes were open and trying to focus on him. Hair was all over the place, matted, torn and covered in who knows what.

“Please…” it whispered. Mouth barely moving.

“We can save it.” he called to the others.

“Are you an absolute madman!?” Neglorum roared. “It is a human.” Then, he stomped over to the fairy, grabbed his collar and started to drag him back out of the clearing.

“But she’s dying.” Ail said as he twisted and turned.

“Good riddance.” Was all the reply he got.

“Take cover” screamed Dergu, running them all into the snow without warning. When they came to, the human was in the same spot, their hand slightly pointed and raised towards the group.

“See the thing is clinging to life and still trying to end ours,” He hissed. The hand fell back into the snow. Ail crawled over to it. And very slowly, he put his hand in hers.

“What is it?” he asked. The hand in his flexed, making sure he would not leave.

“I am sorry.” she whispered. “I came to help.” panting in between words, “they’re expanding.” Her head rolled back, eyes looking at the sky. “You have to leave.”

“Who is expanding? The Goblins, the Bone creatures, the Risen, the Spiders…” he listed everything he could think of.

“No.” she cut him off. “The humans.” And with that, she gave into unconsciousness.

“Maybe we should interrogate it.” Dergu suggested. And Ail gave him a look that showed just how stupid that idea was.

“If we need to know anything else she needs to heal.” He said softly.

“We are not bringing that thing back into Gable with us, we can warn our families ourselves.” Neglorum stated, sounding unconvinced of his own idea.

“Who would believe us?” Ail countered. Dergu nodded in agreement. “She needs taking care off until we can get the facts.” The group went silent for some time.

“She could stay with my cousin…” Neglorum said slowly, surprising the other two. “He has the attic where we could keep it.” Ail didn't bother to point out that he had called the human a she.

“I do not think we have any other choice.” Ail said.

“If we do nothing and the village falls, we would be at fault.” Dergu added.

“I guess we are taking the human with us then.” Neglorum finished.

Was it strange for three young adults to sit and watch a sleeping Human? Yes, it was. But then again if you found a unicorn in the woods you would probably stare at it too. After much time had passed they had decided maybe she was not a threat in her sleep. But when Dergu suggested they search The East both Neglorum and Ail smacked some sense into him. Each found a different part of the human post conflicting. She didn't carry any weapons, but Dergu had been taught about their dangers and love for fighting. She had no magical properties but Ail had heard enough stories about their magic that would suggest otherwise. And she had no valuables on her but Neglorum and the dwarfs knew just how deep greed was embedded into humanity.

“Are we sure she is a human?” Neglorum whispered the last part like it was a curse word. “She doesn't look like how they're supposed to.”

“But it’s got to be a human, what else would it be?” Dergu countered.

“Maybe it’s like half human half something else, like how a mule is half donkey.” Ail offered, resting his big head in his small hands.

“Let's review what we know.” Dergu said sitting down beside Ail. Taking his commander role as per usual. “We know it’s probably some sort of human or human related. We know it's injured so there's something else out there. If we trust it we know there's more on the way. And even though this one doesn't appear too bad the others could be different things entirely.” Neglorum pulled an empty crate over to sit opposite his friends.

“We need to heal it somehow, if Gable is facing an attack we need to either desert or prepare for conflict.” he said stroking his beard.

“But if we tell anyone about her they would call us mad.” Ail protested, their conversation had been going in circles like this for what felt like ages. And they ended up at the same conclusion every time.

“So, we bandage her, add the healing lotion and hope for the best?” They all nodded in agreement.

It was three days before the human woke up fully. Each of them had tried to keep as close tabs as they could, and when Neglorum came running into Shade’s farm, Ail need not have asked what it was about, before he took off in a surreptitious scamper. And after Dergu had been found they had rushed to Neglorum’s cousin’s attic.

The human was still laying down on her crates alone. Looking at her surroundings.

“These are the others.” Neglorum stated. Ail gave an awkward wave and Dergu just stared.

“You were present in the forest.” She said looking at Ail. he nodded, unsure of what to say. Her voice was soft but decisive, delicate but firm. No one said anything at first, they just all kind of looked at each other as if to say, ‘okay what do we do now.’ The human was looking out the window she spoke again:

“You did not evacuate.” It was more of a thought made aloud rather than a question.

“Where would we go exactly?” it was Dergu who spoke up. “We need to know what we have to fight against. We need to be able to defend our city.”

“It isn't the city that they want.” she tried to sit up, but only got halfway before giving into the pain.

“And why should we believe you?” Neglorum cut in.

“Would I have walked through that forest for a lie?”

“If you needed it to be believable, you would.”

“Then why would I be injured? Ask your orc friend over there. I wasn't bloodied up by anything in the forest, I was attacked by the things on the other side.” All eyes went to Dergu.

“The wounds were not usual. Not by our weapons or by the means of a creature I could recognize.”

“Yeah because you are known for your skills in medicine.” Neglorum commented. Earning a chuckle from his two companions.

“You said there were more humans?” Ail whispered, bringing up the thing that is scaring everyone in the room.

“There are two armies of them moving in from the east, but slowly, neither have mobilized yet, and it will take them time to do so.”

“And these two armies, what do they want with Gable?” Dergu questioned.

“I told you, it is not the town they are interested in.” She sighed and then paused. “What Do you know of the Pact of Tolerance?” they all shook their heads. “Have you ever even heard the name?” she was beginning to realise the gravity of the situation.

“What are you talking about, there hasn't been anything like that since civilization fell when the humans got infected by dark magic.” Ail explained.

“There was no dark magic,” and with that she began her tale.

“Millennia ago, humans were integrated in society, we lived and worked together just like you do now. But my kind is destructive, self-destructive. We are our own worst enemy. If a human see’s another with something they themselves do not possess they will fight for it. And when the wars started, and my race started to fall we looked to our friends and allies for help. But what could you do? How do you support a group that fights itself, a city that tears itself apart is not worth rebuilding. So my elders and your elders made a pact. The humans would take their fair share of provisions, weapons and animals and leave. All across the country there was a mass migration. As the humans were expelled to the darkest corners of the world, where they could not hurt anyone but themselves.” She paused, letting it all sink in, of course, it made so much sense now they had heard the tale. Everything clicked together, the desertion of the east, the blockades from race to race built on a fear of internal conflict, dozens of small villages separated by woods rather than one interconnected huge city.

“And that's how they all died?” Dergu asked. “You killed each other until there wasn't a single one of you left.” he let out a breath of nausea, what kind of monster was capable of that? What happened to the elderly, the children and those who could not fight?

“Not exactly.” She said, emotionless like the story had been told and told again until it lost meaning and left a hollow feeling in the stomach. “The numbers dwindled and fell until the fighting stopped, and then when we rebuilt and reformed it all started again. A cycle that lasts for hundreds of years. And the humans are all too stupid to notice it.”

“That still doesn't explain what you’re doing here.” Neglorum said, a slight softness in his voice.

“Someone from another village stumbled onto one of the battlegrounds, and well. You all can guess what happened after that. They had something we didn't, and now we know there's more out there. I’ve been plotting out possible villages with a small group, we have been trying to warn you that they're coming.”

“You and your group.” Dergu said, “you’re trying to stop a war between races.” She nodded slowly. “Are you making progress?” She did not have to answer for them to know that they were getting nowhere.

“Everyone and everything I meet wants me dead. My people say I'm a traitor and every town knows I am a monster.” There wasn't anything anyone could say to make the human on the crates less correct.

“We must take her to orc high command.” Dergu argued they were outside the attic now, standing in the torch lit hallways of Neglorum’s own home. The human was resting, sleeping off what was left of her injuries.

“Orc high command would kill her the moment they recognized her species.” Neglorum sighed, itching his nose in thought with crinkled eyebrows.

“Not if I am present.” Dergu told them, already he sounded protective of the small creature.

“They would kill you as well,” Neglorum responded in protest.

“They would not kill all three of us, if we all went as a united force, the three chosen children. The three of us, chosen to protect the sacred tree and our village.” Ail said, his voice sounding more and more hopeless. “It’s like she was sent to us. The only people in Gable who could help her and our people. the tree has given her to us.” Dergu rested his hands on his friend’s shoulders, and leaned his forehead down. Ail and Neglorum joined, connecting the circle in the first and last embrace they would ever share.

The walk to the tower of the Orc high command was solemn and silent, the human was covered by the biggest and heaviest cloak they could find. Nobody spared them a passing glance. To everyone else this was a normal day in their dull village.

The orc high command tower was not that different from any of the other orc towers around the city, except for the flag that adorned the top of it, flying the symbol of gable. Which of course, was an embroidered tree on a plain black background. The doors were never locked because they need not bother, most had no reason to ever want to be in the tower.

The oldest orc, or Sur, as he was known, stood atop the edge of the tower looking off into the distance.

“What is it children?” he asked slowly, not bothering to turn around. Already bothered by their presence.

“We request a meeting with an open mind.” Ail spoke out, only to receive gracious laughter from the four other orc guards present at the tower top.

“Well then,” the scarred face turned around, missing teeth, broken lips and no piece of skin uninjured. “I will do my best Ail Stone-shade.”

“We have news of an attack.” Dergu stepped in front of his friend. “Two armies of humans are making their way here from the east.” Sur took slow calculated steps towards Dergu and reached his hand out even slower. No one made a move to step him as he began to strangle the young Orc in front of his friends and comrades.

“The humans…” There was no measurement for the anger in his words and Dergu began to struggle. “Are extinct. We drove them out. We let them die like the vermin they are.”

“Stop, you are going to kill him!” Ail exclaimed trying to rush forward with Neglorum only to be restrained by the other orcs.

“Good riddance.” Sur spat. Ail, Neglorum and Dergu all looked to the small cloaked figure standing off to the side. Wondering what would happen next.

“Perhaps you should heed his warning.” she said calmly. Carefully reaching up to remove her hood. Sur dropped Dergu to the ground in shock, and he rolled to his side gasping for air. The human walked to him resting her hand on his back, offering some sort of comfort. No one moved, after all, it is not as if there was a precedent for this kind of altercation.

“This is not possible.” Sur told the group and himself.

“I do apologise but we have not been graced with the luxury of time for us to ponder the possibility of my existence.” The human stood eye to eye with the warrior in front of her. “You need to evacuate the city.”

“I do not take orders from disgusting creatures such as yourself.” And with that Sur spat at her feet. The human took a small step back.

“Can you smell the smoke?” she asked looking around, visually the air was peaceful, but the faint smell of smoke had been lingering for days. “That is the smell of your forest burning. That is the remnants of every village before yours.” Her voice shook. “They will take your people and burn your homes. Please.” she begged as she dropped to her knees. “Evacuate your city.”

Blind trust is dangerous, it’s as sharp as a sword, hot as magma and cold as space. It is the safest of embraces and as lonely as death. Blind trust builds kingdoms and destroys empires. It’s taking care of a sacred tree, and it’s saving a dying woman in the forest. It’s that feeling of falling in love and breaking a heart all at the same time. It is standing on the edge of the forest, in an abandoned battlefield, watching the smoke rise from where your home used to be. It’s one human, a single dwarf, a Fairy, and a sole Orc, all coming together in blind faith to save the few they could. And even though they couldn't see the flames there was no mistake of what was occurring in Gable in that moment. And in a town where no one trusted each other and friendships were not allowed, three boys, who couldn't help but care for each other had saved them all.

#fantasy #fantasy writing #short story #dwarf #orc #fantasy one shot #fantasy story #dwarf story #orc story #frienship story #ramble #rambles #writing #original content #original writing #original fiction #storytelling

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crystaljins · 5 years

Text

A long journey home| 01

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 9.1K

Synopsis: All you wanted was to confront your flaky coworker, Taehyung, not get dragged across a magical fantasy realm trying to deliver a baby dragon safely back to its home kingdom.

Fantasy!au

Notes: I’m not really sure what this is, if I’m being honest. Just a fic so big I split it into two. I basically just wrote whatever I thought was fun and so there’s not a huge amount of plot or anything, really. Just me having fun. Hopefully its fun for you too, at least.

1 | 2

The second they wrench off the blindfold, you know you aren’t on earth anymore. You don’t know how you know- the dark green leaves that paint the backdrop of your surroundings could be native to any forest, anywhere in the world. But instinctively you can feel it- a magical thickness to the air that tells you that you are very, very far from home.

Two men pin your arms in place with tight grips on your upper arms- if they can even be called men. Their hands are hidden beneath thick leather gloves but you don’t think the leather hides flesh and bone. No, each uncomfortable shift feels like there are knife blades sliding along your skin, sheathed by the leather. Their faces are wrapped in thick black shawls so that only glittery eyes peek through thin slits in the material and there’s something inhuman about their eyes. Both men glare straight ahead and you allow your gaze to shift until it settles on Kim Taehyung, the very man who got you into this mess.

In his defence, you don’t think he did it intentionally. No, you doubt he was even aware that you’d been dragged into this realm while your captors pursued him until this very moment if the way his eyes widen just the slightest bit is anything to go by. But you wouldn’t have been captured and held hostage for the past 48 hours if you hadn’t gone to his house two days prior, that’s for sure. A mere 48 hours ago, when the world had been simple and easy and Taehyung had just been an annoying colleague who never pulled his weight.

You had been constantly making up for his slack- staying late, coming in early, working through your lunchbreak, all to make up for the fact that Taehyung is about as reliable as an umbrella in a hurricane. When he does bother to show up to work, he works diligently and thoroughly and is the kind of worker that is friendly and warm and popular and always getting invited to office parties (which is probably how he’s escaped getting fired thus far). But when he doesn’t show up, it is usually at the worst possible time, like right before a meeting that he was supposed to present at (although that burden then falls to you when the boss realises that Taehyung isn’t coming, 5 minutes into the meeting), or in the busy season where you need all hands on deck. And when Taehyung had not shown up two days earlier, you had been forced to pull an all-nighter and missed your niece’s 1st birthday party. That had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. You had tolerated his behaviour and even covered for him when he requested it of you because you felt bad for him and weren’t really the type to turn down someone who needed your help. But enough is enough and you could cover for Taehyung no longer. Especially when your ailing father rang you and asked why you hadn’t shown up to what might possibly be the last family gathering that all of you are together for.

You had stormed over to Taehyung’s apartment and banged on the door until he answered. Only it hadn’t been Taehyung that answered but three creatures that were most definitely not human, fresh from trashing his apartment while searching for him. They had seen you, assumed you were close with Taehyung, and deemed you of appropriate worth to take along in their pursuit.

Now you kneel helplessly, still in your work uniform from two days ago though it is now soiled and partly torn from mistreatment. You must look quite the sight, dirty and kneeling on the floor of some mythical forest in a pencil skirt and a formerly-white button down.

“(Y/N)?” He asks. Taehyung is a fairly unflappable kind of guy. There are jokes at the office that the building could be burning around him and he’d stop to take a selfie with the flower arrangement in the lobby before evacuating. But he looks genuinely gobsmacked in that moment and if you hadn’t been afraid when you’d first been abducted 2 days ago, then you are now. If Taehyung is scared, then things are serious. You shouldn’t have listened to Jimin’s encouragements to confront Taehyung and you shouldn’t have gone to his apartment. If you hadn’t, you’d probably be sitting at home, watching Netflix and enjoying a blissful day off. You would be completely ignorant to the presence of the supernatural beings you had previously thought only existed in storybooks. But no, now the proof of creatures that even humans could not have managed is not just limited to three beings surrounding you, two of whom are restraining you, but the small, frightened little creature in front of you which may or may not be a baby dragon. It burrows into Taehyung’s arms like a frightened kitten. The sight would be endearing if that little creature wasn’t currently a bargaining chip for your life. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

“I don’t know.” You say, and though you try to sound normal, terror has your voice wobbling with unshed tears. A glare from one of the captors still restraining you has you clamping your jaw shut.

“Do not speak,” It hisses, and if you had to describe the odd quality of their voices, it would be reptilian. Great. You had been kidnapped by lizard men.

The leader, the one not holding you down, pulls off his shawl and the beastly scaled face that lies beneath has you feeling light-headed. Not two days ago you were a simple office worker, a bit plain, maybe a little bit too much of a pushover, prone to crying a little too much, but human. Ordinary, plain, boring human. Magic, mythology… those were fictional things. But no. Unless this is some sort of weird fever dream (which you haven’t entirely ruled out as a possibility yet), you are currently a supporting character in a fantasy thriller that is unfortunately not fictional.

“Choose, Guardian. Your mate’s life or the dragonling’s.” The leader snarls. “We don’t have all day- our Queen wants her prize delivered.”

“Don’t count your dragons before they hatch,” Taehung protests, his hand resting on what you recognise as the hilt to a sword. Why does he have a sword and not a gun? Why not make use of the very lethal technology humans are unfortunately good at creating? “I’m not handing this little one over. You’ll have to kill her.”

Your eyes go wide, but he doesn’t spare you a glance. He shifts his posture, hoisting the little dragon higher against him in his arms and all traces of shock and distress are wiped clean from his face. A trill of fear runs through you at the clinical, detached way he regards you. Surely he wouldn’t allow these creatures to kill you? Yes, you weren’t particularly close, but you were still coworkers and he certainly owed you at least some sort of attempt to save you in exchange for all the favours you’ve done him!

“Taehyung,” You plead, and the tears you had managed to hold in throughout this whole ordeal suddenly spill further but he pointedly ignores you. “Taehyung,” You say again, trying to gather the words that will convince him to save you. He finally looks your way at this, but he merely looks at you like you are a jewel he finds intriguing but not worth the purchase.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” He says, and while he’s always been fond of using pet names for you, this one feels like a punch in the gut. “I do hate to have casualties when I work, but you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You aren’t worth the price.”

Your jaw drops in offence.

He offers a disinterested look to your captors and turns away.

“Kill her.” He offers over his shoulder, already walking away.

“You… you have to be kidding me,” You gasp incredulously. “After everything I’ve… you’re just going to… No! No way!” You cry.

Though you are largely a timid and obedient worker and Jimin is constantly berating you for being a pushover, there is the odd occasion that you get angry. Those occasions are few and far between, but you feel it now, frustration, pain, anguish and fear building in your chest like the crest of a wave about to burst into frothy foam. He’d… he’d just leave you to die?

“You idiot lizardmen!” You screech. Your anger bursts forth in the form of your enraged screech. No longer is the fear of them enough to hold you in place. And clearly you can’t rely on Taehyung to help you out. You flail in their hold and ignore the way their gloves claws dig painfully into your skin. The little dragon in Taehyung’s arms whines in fright at your outburst. “Why the heck did you drag me into this you douchebags! If you’re going to threaten him at least use someone who actually knows him or check your facts or something! Plus if I’m going to die at least let it be for someone better than him! He didn’t even try you assholes!” You yell kicking out with your legs and they had managed to subdue you thus far with your fear of their sharp claws but that is no longer sufficient now that you have reached the current stage of hysteria. “You’re honestly going to kill me because you weren’t clever enough to find one of Taehyung’s genuine friends? Granted that’s a difficult ask because he probably doesn’t have any cause he just leaves the ones he has to die!”

You thrash wildly in their grasps and their claws slice into the skin of your biceps. But they did not restrain your legs and so you kick out. One of your wild strikes collides with the back of what you think may be the lizard man’s knee. He crumples with a grunt and releases you.

Taehyung must not have gone that far- suddenly he has taken advantage of the lizardmen losing control of you and their lapse of attention on him.

“Shouldn’t have let your guard down.” Taehyung announced with a chilling smirk and the next thing you know it that all three guards are disabled and unconscious across the forest floor. Taehyung grabs urgently at your hand and drags you to your feet- he does not flinch at the way your fingernails are bloodied and dirty.

“We have to go.” He tells you urgently, attempting to flee with the baby dragon cradled by one arm and you hand grasped tightly in his. Your shoes were lost long ago- you aren’t sure at what point, having been blindfolded for the better part of the last two days and you are in no condition to flee with him.

Nor do you want to- the man just offered your life in exchange for keeping a dog-sized lizard!

“Let me go!” You cry, wrenching your hand free. You wince when you step on a tree branch and Taehyung’s gaze drops to your bare feet. “I don’t want to go with you, you psycho I almost died because of you!”

“We don’t have time for this!” He snaps, going to drag you again, but you flinch away from his swiping hand.

“You don’t have time for this! Just leave me to the lizardmen at least they’re loyal-“ He cuts off whatever rubbish is bursting forth from your lips by throwing you over his other should like you weigh little more than a bag of feathers.

“Sorry, darling, but we have to get out of here.” He exclaims and then he’s running with you bouncing on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, screaming and protesting the whole way.

When Taehyung finally sets you down in small clearing a long way away from your former captors, you do not hesitate. He immediately turns his attention to the dragon in his arms, setting it down and examining it for any signs of harm. You make a break for it, aiming to sprint past Taehyung, barefooted and still wearing your ruined office attire. With lightening fast reflexes, however, he snags your arm with one hand- beside him the little dragon coos curiously.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He asks, tugging you backwards until you stand before him once more.

“Away.” You cry. “You were just about to have me killed for a lizard!”

“He’s a dragon,” Is Taehyung’s icy response. He folds his arms across his chest and tilts his head. “And darling, I’d think you’d know me well enough to tell when I’m lying through my teeth. I was never going to allow them to kill you. I just needed them to let their guard down enough to gain the upper hand. Although you freaking out was a very nice touch.”

That gives you pause. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, contemplating your next move, before finally relaxing your posture. Taehyung relaxes too, sensing that you are no longer on the verge of taking flight.

“That’s what was happening?” You finally ask. You don’t mean for your voice to catch in the way that it does. It’s just that you’re scared and confused and you nearly died. Taehyung’s expression softens and he sinks onto the forest ground, patting the space beside him to indicate you should do the same. Reluctantly, you sink to the ground- your legs give out half way though and Taehyung reaches out to steady you.

“Are you ok?” He asks, taking the opportunity to examine you. Your skin is caked with a thin layer of dirt. Your hands and knees are grazed and scabbed over. There are some bruises on your cheek and arms from the initial struggle of when you were taken captive and the sleeves of your dirty white button up are sliced into ribbons and slowly turning red from where the lizardmen claws had cut into you. Taehyung grimaces at the state you’re in and reaches for a satchel he’s been carrying since you first laid eyes on him. He pulls out what you recognise to be a first aid kit and sets it beside him. He draws near and begins to produce various ointments and salves that you don’t think can be purchased over the counter at your local chemist.

“I have a lot to explain, I suppose,” He says slowly, tending to your wounds as he speaks. “But first, I need to know something- how did you get here? This is not a place any human can get to. And how did you end up with those men?”

You fidget with the hem of your skirt. The air is cool but not cold and so you are coping in the outfit you are wearing, but you will need new clothes and shoes if you are to get out of this wretched forest any time soon.

“I… I went to your apartment.” You confess. Your desire to confront Taehyung over his work ethic has long fizzled out over the traumatic events of the past few days. Now it all seems like a distant memory, like a dream you had a long time ago and can’t quit recall the details of. “Because I wanted to talk to you.”

Interest sparks in Taehyung’s eyes and a slight smile crosses his face.

“Oh?” He says, and you grimace at the way he’s misinterpreted your words. “Do tell, sweetheart.”

“Not like that! I wanted to talk to you about what a terrible worker you are!” You snap, and the smile slides off his face like you’ve slapped him. “And I was going to tell you that I couldn’t keep covering for you at work anymore, but those lizardmen were there, trashing your apartment and they thought I was close to you. They dragged me with them through this weird doorway thing and we ended up in this forest and have been travelling through it for the past two days.”

Taehyung’s gaze darkens.

“I’m sorry for that. They were looking for this little one.” Taehyung says, reaching out to gently stroke the head of the little dragon. It purrs like a kitten and watches you through narrowed eyes. “This is Taithrwyn. I call him Tata though because that’s a bit of mouthful. He’s the last dragon prince and I swore an oath to his former guardians before they died on my front doorstep that I would return him safely to his kingdom before the full moon. Which means I have approximately one week to cross this entire continent.”

Taithrwyn takes hesitant steps towards you, his eyes cautious and regarding. His nostrils flare as he extends his neck, taking in your scent. As he turns his face towards you, the meagre light shining through the forest canopy catches his scales- they gleam a metallic red. Each scale has a gradient, however- they begin a brilliant scarlet and then gradually fade into a warm yellow that shimmers gold in the soft forest light. His eyes are cat-like- he watches you through slit-like pupils and earthy green irises. Hesitantly, you extend an open palm towards him, like he is a stray cat you’re trying to entice close enough to pet. He watches the gesture closely before leaning forward to press the tip of his snout into your open palm, closing his eyes. A warm feeling fills you at the action. You do not know much about dragons and did not know they existed prior to today, but something tells you that Tata’s tiny little gesture means a lot in his language.

Taehyung watches the exchange carefully, a small smile on his face.

“He likes you.” Taehyung offers, and Tata punctuates his statement by clambering into your lap. “Watch your claws, Tata.” He scolds and you wince as his tiny claws leave little scratch marks on your exposed thighs.

“Is the oath why you were going to let me die? You said you wouldn’t let them kill me… but what if your plan had failed? Would you have left me?” You ask softly. Taehyung does not answer for a moment, but he goes still and his teeth dig into his bottom lip contemplatively.

“Yes.” He finally answers. His answer shouldn’t hurt or surprise you- what are you to Taehyung, that he’d choose you over a baby dragon prince? Especially if he had promised someone else to prioritise it. So why do your eyes water and why do you find yourself blinking back tears? He’s not done rubbing salt in your wounds, however- he continues on. “The life of the last dragon prince is more important than a human’s, no matter who that human may be. And I swore an oath- amongst my kind that is something we take very seriously.”

“Right.” You answer, though your voice is strained with the effort to keep it even and unaffected. “Well, I’ll just let you get back to that, then- if you could just tell me how to get home, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Wait!” Taehyung calls, halting you in the process of getting to your feet. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” You say, and the word is loaded with more desperation and anguish than you had anticipated. But the past two days have been hell. In the worst sense of the word. You had been terrified for your life, trapped with strange creature, wondering through a forest, far from home without knowing if you’d ever get out. If you’d ever get to go home. If you’d be alive for your niece’s second birthday. And Taehyung had been willing to let your life end there. To let it fizzle out after being dragged from everything you knew for a mistake. You want to go home, to your family and friends and coworkers. And to your job. You’d worked so hard to get to where you were but you had allowed your work to become a curse, to become something you hated just to stop the man in front of you from getting fired. When your life apparently meant nothing to him. “I’m going home, Taehyung.”

“You can’t.” Taehyung blurts, and when you don’t answer, he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to tell you this, love, but this isn’t the kind of forest a mere human can get out of alive. We aren’t in the human realm anymore. All the rules you know about nature… everything you know to be true… out here they aren’t true anymore. If you go off on your own, the best possible outcome is that you get eaten.” He confesses to you. “Because it’s the quickest and most painless way to go.”

A shiver runs down your spine and the darkening light of the forest around you suddenly seems more menacing than before. You feel a creeping sensation along your skin and flinch. He’s right- you’re barefooted, bleeding and lost. You have nothing on you but the ruined clothes on your back and you probably aren’t even on the same planet any more.

“So then what do I do?” You ask, your voice trembling and uncertain. Taehyung shrugs.

“You come with me. I’ll keep you safe.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious and simple solution. You stare incredulously.

“You? We only just escaped from lizardmen that you were going to let slit my throat with their weird claws in exchange for your pet dragon and you want me to believe you’re the safest option in this place?” You demand furiously. Taehyung grins, and something dark and decidedly inhuman glitters behind his eyes, something you’d never seen before. In that moment, it clicks into place- Taehyung is not a human being. He is not the flaky office worker you thought he was- he is something more ferocious and terrifying and you feel a chill to your skin.

“Oh, darling.” He says. “I never said I was the safest option. Just that I’m your best bet of getting out of here alive. You’ll get to go home once I have successfully returned Tata to his kingdom.”

A strange kind of resignation fills you because Taehyung is right. You sink back onto the ground beside him and Tata climbs back into your lap, curling up like a little lap dog. He’s about the size of a small dog but he’s warmer than one- you didn’t realise how chilled your skin was until you felt the warmth of his scales against you. Involuntarily, you curl your body into wards him more and he lets out a pleased little trill.

“Who are you, Taehyung? Where am I? Why did you promise to take a baby dragon home?” You ask, tracing figures into the soil beneath you as you speak. Taehyung sighs and leans backwards, making himself comfortable before a long explanation.

“In this realm they actually know me as V. Taehyung is my birth name, but I think “V” has a much more dramatic ring to it.” He admits. “And as you may have guessed… I am not a human. I was raised in this realm but I came to yours when I started highschool. My kind was driven from this realm following an awful war and my family were amongst the victims. I’ve been hiding my identity ever since, but due to what I am, non-human creatures in need of help often seek me out. I can travel between realms freely and so they want me to help them. And I can’t in good conscious turn them away. It’s why I’m always flaking at work.” He tells you. You do not respond- so his flakiness was because he was helping people? You aren’t sure how that makes you feel and so you allow him to continue without interruption. “A few days ago, the day before that I was meant to do that presentation, I really wanted to prove I wouldn’t flake as much anymore. But then two of my people, ones who had also come to the human realm following the war, turned up on my doorstep. They were in poor state, and they had little Tata here in tow.” Taehyung’s gaze darkens and his eyes pool with unshed tears. “I did not know them personally but you can’t help but feel a sense of kinship with your people when you come across them in a foreign realm. They had given their lives trying to deliver him home before his coronation after rescuing him from some poachers. And on their deathbeds they asked that I finish their journey for them. I came here to bury them. And I had promised them,” His voice catches, but he clears his throat and soldiers on. “I promised them I would get him home safely and so I will.”

“I… I missed my niece’s first birthday filling in for you. You didn’t even have the decency to text that you wouldn’t make the presentation. I got in trouble and was given one day to redo it and give the presentation, without any of the information you had.” You confess because while his reason for skipping work was to help people, you still want him to know why it hurt you.

“And for that, I am sorry. I know I’m always relying on you… but it wasn’t supposed to take this long. Time passes differently in the human realm, and I was supposed to be back within the hour. But I miscalculated a few… risk factors- I hadn’t realised those men were in pursuit and a lot of people would give an arm and a leg to be in possession of a baby dragon. I’ve been here two weeks trying to avoid getting caught. And I know it’s been stressful for you and I will always be grateful for you covering my back like you have. I promise you that I will get you home safely. Just because Tata takes priority does not mean I will allow any harm to come to you.” He tells you sincerely. You watch him carefully, but you feel a tension you didn’t know you were holding in yourself give way at his sincerity. He watches you with large, remorseful eyes and his promise hovers in the air between you. You inhale deeply.

“O-ok.” You say. “Fine. You… you have my trust. Just… please. Get me home, Taehyung.” You tell him, and your desperation must be shining in your gaze but he just looks taken aback at your admission of trust. He offers you a wide smile, the one that reminds you how handsome he is and why he has so many of your coworkers’ adoration.

“I will, sweetheart, I promise.”

And just like that, you end up travelling with Taehyung. There’s still so much information you don’t have and you are still scared and confused. But there’s only so much Taehyung can tell you in hushed whispers on the forest floor with the risk of your pursuers turning up once more. After some interrogation, Taehyung reveals he is skilled enough in combat that as long as it doesn’t turn into a hostage situation then he should be able to adequately protect you and Tata. Still, when the three of you set off quickly, you proceed with caution and are constantly on the lookout for any sign of your former captors.

Taehyung keeps a spare pair of boots in his satchel (which is magically charmed to hold far more than it should). They are far too large, and your feet keep slipping in them but the alternative is exposing yourself to the numerous sharp objects littering the forest floor that can cut into the exposed soles of your feet. He offers you a large cotton tunic which is better than the pencil skirt and ruined office shirt and there’s no hope for his spare pair of pants fitting you for Taehyung is long and large. This would normally not bother you- the cut is similar to a sleeveless dress, albeit a bit more formless, but for some reason you feel exposed. Perhaps it is to do with the devious smile Taehyung offers you when you are done changing.

“This is good motivation to buy you proper clothes when we get into town.” He comments. You are instantly on guard from the way his tone drips with mischievous intent.

“Why?” You demand, a little defensive and on edge.

“Because,” and his gaze turns from a fox-like glee to something decidedly serpentine as he slides it over your body. You feel as though he had just trailed his fingers over your skin. “I would hate for anyone else to see you looking so cute.”

Flirtatious comments such as those are to be the norm for the rest of the journey, something that you eventually begin to expect from him, but you don’t realise that yet and are caught off guard in that moment. You hope that he misses the way your ears are probably hot enough to fry eggs.

You don’t take a hurried pace, but it is rather relentless. Taehyung refuses to allow his stress to affect you but there is a looming deadline for this adventure. Apparently Tata’s coronation is meant to be in a week. Upon rescuing him from his poachers, his former guardians had been in contact with the ailing dragon king and promised to get Tata home before the planned date for his coronation as Dragon Prince. He is not old enough to rule yet, but apparently young dragons undergo a ceremony to declare their royalty and the best translation for the word Taehyung could think of was “coronation”. Getting there in time means travelling across treacherous lands that a fragile and terrified human like you would struggle with. But there isn’t time for Taehyung to take you to the portal that would take you home, in the opposite direction. Instead, you are stuck along for the ride. You must proceed carefully- apparently there are a lot of people who would benefit from selling Tata. Even just his claws have incredibly useful abilities. Fortunately, Tata has the ability to turn invisible which saves you the hassle and difficulty of having to avoid towns completely and pick up supplies through alternate means.

At least the journey is pleasant. It’s like being dropped into a Lord of the Rings novel. You admire the scenery around you in wonder- you have left that awful forest before and now wonder through what you think may be a field of barley. Wheat shimmers like gold in the bright sunlight and there is a dry but pleasant scent to the air. Overhead, the sky is a smooth, uninterrupted blanket of azure blue. Taehyung hums beside you, answering all your questions without a hint of irritation or impatience while Tata stalks what you think may be a cricket.

“So if you aren’t human, what are you?” You inquire. Taehyung shrugs.

“There isn’t really a word for it in your language.” He admits. “I suppose the best word for it is a “guardian” or maybe a “protector”? They say the gods bestowed us with enhanced abilities to protect others. Every creature born in this realm knows that they can seek us out when they need help. Still, they also fear us greatly for our strength which is perhaps why we were driven out.”

“And you still return here to help? After they drove you from your home?” You ask, feeling a mixture of compassion and sadness on his behalf at his admission. He simply smiles thoughtfully.

“It’s my legacy and my honour to do so.” He points out. “To ignore a cry for help would be to spit on everything that I am and on every sacrifice my parents made to raise me in the culture they loved in a foreign realm where the rules of reality differed. And I already make every effort to hide what I am- this is the one thing I cannot and will not pretend does not exist.”

You are silent. Any further questions are thwarted by an intense glow of admiration towards your co-worker. You lick your lips and swallow a few times before you finally find your voice.

“I had no idea.” You admit. He chuckles and shakes his head.

“No need for remorse, lovely. I’m sure you understand better than everyone- not a lot of people would go to the lengths you have to cover for their flaky co-worker.” He reassures you with a wink and a warm smile. Tata coos his agreement, but the conversation ends there because Tata has successfully caught his cricket and you are deathly afraid of bugs.

Apparently the next town, where you will be able to buy horses and supplies and halve the daunting journey ahead of you by doing so, is a 6 hour walk away, skirting around the edge of a mountain. But Taehyung proudly presents what he reckons is a shortcut through the mountain, allowing you to reach town in a mere hour.

You stare dubiously at the decrepit entrance to the tunnel. As daunting and painful as a 6 hour walk in shoes that don’t quite fit an a tunic that barely qualifies as a dress seems, an hour in a cramped, confined and dodgy tunnel seems infinitely worse.

“Are... are you sure about this, Taehyung?” You ask hesitantly. He grins.

“Sure I am! Admittedly it’s been about six months in the human realm since I came here which probably translates to about 60 years in this realm? But how much can change in 60 years?” Is his dismissive answer. He doesn’t hear your answering “A lot!” Because he has already set off, with Tata ambling along in tow. You do not wish to be left behind and are faced with no choice but to follow.

Inside the air is musty and there is an unpleasant moisture to the air. It is also pitch black which Taehyung quickly rectifies by sliding something onto his finger. It lights up the area around you and it seems to be some sort of ring. There is no direct light source coming from it, yet you can see as well as if Taehyung were holding a torch. Tata’s scales glint in the light and intensify the brightness. The interior is not impressive- rocks, uneven ground, and a slick mossy quality to the walls that has you grimacing.

“You look pale.” Taehyung comments, from closer than you expected. You jump slightly and grasp your chest.

“I… I don’t like enclosed spaces.” You confess. “But… if you’re sure it’s safe, then I’ll manage. It’s better than a six hour walk across the mountainside, I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit, sweetheart!” Taehyung crows cheerfully. He sets the lead, walking maybe a metre in front of you. You follow timidly, cautious of the way your feet slip in the boots and the way the uneven ground promises a sprained ankle if you are not careful. That will surely make the next few days difficult.

You make it maybe 15 minutes into the tunnel when it happens. An ominous sort of whisper, so soft you almost miss it, sounds from somewhere behind you.

“Did you hear that?” You ask, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. Taehyung had given you his coat upon realising the cave was a little too cool for your attire, but you still felt cold. There was a chill to the air you couldn’t quite shake off. Beside you, Tata pauses at your legs, looking around with wide eyes. Taehyung pauses, tilting his head slightly as he listens carefully for any unusual sounds. Upon hearing nothing, he shrugs.

“We probably aren’t the only ones using this tunnel.” He points out. “I can’t hear anything that you wouldn’t normally hear in a tunnel like this and my hearing is far better than yours.” He continues walking, expecting you to follow.

“Ok…” You say hesitantly, but you aren’t convinced. Perhaps the darkness is just getting to you though, so you quiet and obediently follow his lead. He’s set off at a slightly faster pace than expected, though Tata sits obediently by your side. Perhaps he senses your unease, or even shares it. Allowing Taehyung to get so far ahead is your mistake though because the ominous whispering sounds again and is suddenly replaced with a deafening roar and the next thing you know, the floor is collapsing beneath you. “Taehyung!” You cry and the last thing you see before you and Tata plummet is his expression. Wide, shocked, and horrified. He has an arm extended towards you and his mouth is open in a soundless shout but then everything goes black.

You could wake up immediately or a few hours later but you wouldn’t really know. You have no way of knowing, but you must have lost consciousness during the fall. You know because you snap awake when Tata nuzzles into you with a sad clicking noise. When you run your fingers through your hair they come away sticky and warm. It is too dark to tell but you hope it isn’t blood. You sit up and are overcome with a ferocious wave of dizziness. It takes a few moments of deep breathing before you are able to sit up and hold yourself upwards. Tata nudges his nose into you, clearly trying to help. You wish you had a torch or your phone on you but that had been lost in the chaos of being kidnapped. Instead you are stuck in a dark space. The air is dusty- Tata sneezes. You don’t know how far you’ve fallen or if you’ll be able to get out. You swallow, trying to stave off the wave of hysteria that threatens to pull you under.

“Taehyung?” You call. There is no response. Tata lets out a little roar too, the one you recognise is his way of addressing Taehyung. You don’t know how injured you are and you have no light to see- you can only limp forward, using the wall to prop you up. “Anyone?”

At that last call you hear it again- that ominous whisper from before. You swallow and blink back tears, feeling your heart rate pick up with adrenaline. The sound of a rock bouncing echoes in the space. It could be a big space or a large space, you don’t know. You can’t see anything. Beside you, Tata growls, a low warning sound that you haven’t heard from him before.

“Who’s there?” You cry. As if on cue, the cave around you lights up with a cold glow. Tata’s scales glow blindingly in the sudden light and you are reassured at his presence. It’s cold down here, almost freezing and even with Taehyung’s large coat you still find your teeth chattering. It looks the same as the tunnel you fell from although the ground is littered with large rocks, probably from the ground collapsing.

“No human has come here for 60 years.” A deep voice rumbles- with the same eerie edge as the whisper that has been almost chasing you throughout your journey through this tunnel. The scream dies in your throat- your terror is so great that you cannot even produce the sound.

“Who are you?” You demand, though the attempt at sounding firm and brave is ruined by the sob that chokes your question halfway through.

“Who are you?” The voice asks. A shadow moves in the distance, large and ominous and breathing. The white light seems to be coming from that direction, so you move towards it.

“Just… just a traveller. I got lost and the floor collapsed.” You confess. A deep rumbling sound comes as an answer- the disembodied voice is laughing at you.

“The floor did not collapse, little one.” It answers you. “I crushed it.” You tense.

“Why?” You ask. It continues laughing and the shadow begins moving towards you. Whatever it is, it is large and intimidating and most definitely not a fellow human being.

“To retrieve you, of course!” It tells you. “Such a tasty morsel… and the young dragonling will make a nice entrée. I will certainly gain sustenance. I just needed to separate you first, for your guardian is quite the threat.” The voice sounds almost impressed as it mentions Taehyung.

“He’ll come for you, if you try anything.” You snarl, stepping protectively in front of Tata though you tremble with fear and your nose is dripping with tears.

“The strength gained by consuming the dragon prince will allow me to easily take him down. Though with the state I’m currently in, even this meagre amount of magic will drain me.” It confess and it finally steps into view. Tata lets out a shrieking yowl in fright, scrambling to hide behind you while you swallow a scream. It’s the most horrific beast you’ve ever laid eyes one. Gnarled, peeling skin, which is an awful frost white colour, like its been frozen. Its figure resembles a human, but curled and decrepit, walking towards you with a lurching, tilted gait. It looks like a zombie from a move but more inhuman. Before you can ask what magic it is referring to, your eyes widen as you feel your limbs lock in place and a painful chill wash through your body. Like you’ve suddenly been encased in ice.

“I like a little bit of warmth in my dinner, so I won’t freeze you completely.” The monster tells you. “But I can’t have you interfering. I’ll have the dragon first.”

You struggle but your limbs don’t obey, like you’ve been plunged into an ice lake.

“No!” You cry, but you can’t even struggle. You do manage to lurch forward in an uncoordinated collapse, diving over Tata and curling your sluggish, frozen body to cover him. Your tears cut warm trails across your frozen cheeks. You are so deathly afraid. There is no way you can get out of this alive.

“That’s quite impressive.” The monster says, watching as you glare at him. Beneath you Tata squirms and whimpers in fear. “Not many can move under the influence of my ice magic. I suppose I will have to dispose of you first.”

It raises a frozen, decaying arm- they end in large, disproportionate talons, also glowing white. You wince and prepare yourself for the pain of its strike.

You never thought you’d die like this. You haven’t gotten to say goodbye to your family, to have one last coffee with Jimin. You won’t get that promotion you’ve been angling for. Yet with all that, all those unfinished thoughts and regrets, for some reason it is Taehyung’s face that pops into your mind as the monster prepares its final blow. His anguished, fearful expression as the ground collapsed. The image is burnt into your memory. You’re… you’re sorry to be the reason for that face. You hate the idea that you caused that distress. You shut your eyes, ready for the last thought of your life to be an apology to Taehyung, but the blow you are bracing yourself for never comes.

The being chokes, and bright blue liquid spurts from its mouth like blood in the same moment that the end of a sword, glimmering in the unforgiving white light and drenched in the same blue substance, erupts from the centre of its chest. The monster screeches in pain, an unholy, awful sound.

It collapses and Taehyung wrenches his sword from where he had pierced its torso.

“I hate frost demons.” He complains, stepping over the demon’s lifeless form and crouching down beside you. Tata squeezes himself out from beneath you and clambers up Taehyung’s body so he can wind himself around Taehyung’s neck, his favourite position. “Are you hurt, gorgeous?” He says. He helps you sit up though your body is still mostly frozen and unresponsive. You stare at him with your eyes watering, and for some reason, the sight of him makes you feel like something inside you erupts. You burst into tears, sobbing hysterically.

Taehyung sighs and pulls you into him, cradling you like you are the most precious thing in the world.

“I was so scared!” You sob. He gently pats your back as he embraces you like he’s comforting a small child.

“I know.” He coos. “You did so well, button. Thank you for protecting Tata.” He praises. He catches your chin with his fingers and the light is so much warmer since it is now his magical ring that illuminates the cavern and not the magic of the frost demon. He lifts your face until he can peer directly into your red-rimmed eyes. He takes in the bruises that still haven’t healed from your kidnapping, and the congealed blood along your hairline from your fall and his expression tightens. “Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?”

He helps you to your feet and leads you away from the immobile corpse of the frost demon. Tata follows.

You end up having to camp the night in a forest on the other side of the tunnel. Apparently you’d only been unconscious for a mere moment before the Frost demon came. But with your injuries it takes you another two hours to get out of the cave and Taehyung makes the executive decision to have you rest and recover your strength instead of forcing you to power through to the next town. Once you have horses it will be easier, he promises. He’ll buy a carriage if he has to.

The chill of the spell cast on you by the frost demon refuses to leave. Taehyung informs you that he didn’t freeze you- otherwise you’d have frost bite and all sorts of other nasty complications. He simply sucked all the warmth out of your body, hence your sluggishness and difficulty moving. A night by the fire that Tata sleeps in and Taehyung’s warm sleeping bag would have you good as new in the morning. Unfortunately, your body cannot seem to generate the heat that it needs and even Tae’s sleeping bag isn’t enough to keep you warm. You can hear his soft breathing where he leans against a tree, keeping watch like he doesn’t need sleep. He will have to sleep at some point though. A blaze of heat as Tata shifts from where he is curled of in the flames has you sighing contently.

“Are you still cold?” Taehyung asks, sliding into your bedding before even waiting for an answer. You nearly screech in surprise, frightened by the sudden intrusion into your personal space, but upon feeling the immense warmth his body exudes your body betrays you and you find yourself curling snugly around him. “I can hear you shivering.” He observes.

“Wouldn’t it be better and more appropriate to let Tata be the one to warm me up, considering he’s a dragon?” You ask with a yawn.

“And miss a chance like this one?” Taehyung asks playfully, curling an arm over your waist and pulling you in close. “I think not. Tata can sleep in his fire nest. Besides, don’t you think you’d have the opposite problem if you cuddled with a creature who has literally spent the past hour curled up in a fire?” The movement of wrapping his body around you is oddly intimate and domestic and you feel perhaps you and Taehyung do not have the close kind of friendship that warrants such proximity. You also don’t care. He’s warm and secure and this is the safest you have felt in what feels like a very long time. The two of you are silent for a long while and you think he may have nodded off.

“Taehyung,” you call softly, testing for wakefulness.

“Tae.” He answers in an equally soft tone.

“What?” You question. He blinks his eyes open sleepily and regards you in a way that makes your throat feel tight and your heart beat faster.

“It’s what my... it’s what my friends call me. Tae. And while I should have considered you a friend long before now, perhaps I can fix it by calling you a friend now. If you are willing... it would be a true honour if you called me that.” Is his sincere request. Without realising it, a pleased smile crosses your face.

“I’d love to... Tae.” You say warmly, sweetly. The look in your eyes as you gaze up at him, caged in his embrace, is so preciously endearing that Taehyung wishes he could take a picture and save it with him. He’d carry it always, in his breast pocket. Close to his heart.

Taehyung chuckles.

“You’re a dangerous little thing, aren’t you?” He mutters cryptically. You cannot read the odd tone to his voice but it seems reluctantly warm. “What were you saying before I interrupted?” He asks you, changing the subject.

“Oh,” you answer, feeling your face heat. “I wanted to thank you, for saving me. And for keeping your promise. I was...” your voice catches and you clear your throat awkwardly. “I was really scared and I’m glad you came.”

He offers you a soft smile, his eyes crinkling in the light offered by the fire that Tata sleeps in. It makes you short of breath- he never stops being ethereally beautiful. It is unfair to your poor, vulnerable heart.

“I promised you I would keep you safe, didn’t I?” He whispers. You nod and your eyes begin to sink closed when he speaks again.

“Can I ask you a question?” Taehyung asks and with the firelight lending warm highlights to his pensive expression, he looks like an artful painting.

“I guess.” You answer sleepily, uncomfortable with the way the vision of his profile is burnt into the back of your eyelids like you’ve been staring at the sun too long.

“Why did you do it?” He finally says. His voice is a mere whisper, barely audible above the crackling fire. His tone is desperate, like the question has baffled him for a long time. “At work. All those times, where you could have just let them fire me but you stayed back and covered for me... why?”

For once, all his guarded playfulness, the mask he wears to keep people at a distance is stripped back and all that’s left is someone who is genuinely baffled by kindness from another living being. Your heart aches for him.

Why though? Why do you care enough for your heart to ache on his behalf? Why do you care enough to constantly go out of your way? You’ve never had an answer before. Jimin always asks you why you keep helping him and you shrug off the question like a duck might shake rain loose of its feathers. But suddenly the answer, the one that has continued to evade you and the one that you’ve suppressed up until this moment comes forward in the form of a memory.

The job you currently hold is a job that had been your dream for a very long time. Not that you’d ever had a strong affinity for working in an office. It was just that you wanted a stable, well-paying career that your family would find respectable. You wanted to make your parents proud and to help support them with the mounting medical expenses for your father. It had taken you many tries to finally land a job. The amount of rejections had reached the point you thought maybe you’d forever be unemployed and would be stuck working at the convenience store for the rest of your life. The day you’d gotten the call that your application had been successful would be a day that you would never forget, purely because you had finally had your goal achieved.

Tae had been there too, by some odd twist of fate. You had been on the bus, fresh off the phone from being informed you got the job and the first thing you had done was ring your father. You were dripping wet, soaked from the bucketing rain but you didn’t care. There hadn’t been any seats available but that didn’t matter- you announced the news excitedly to your dad, barely restraining yourself from jumping up and down in the middle of the aisle. The bus had lurched then and you had tumbled into the arms of none other than Taehyung, who caught you with one arm without losing his grip on the large black umbrella hooked onto his forearm.

“Sorry!” You had explained, quickly hanging up with your dad. Taehyung had smiled widely.

“It’s no worry- you’ve gotten some good news, then?” He had asked you. You beamed and nodded.

“Yeah… I just got my dream job.” You had confessed. He had smiled, oddly forlorn and gazed ahead.

“I remember that feeling. I got my dream job earlier this year.” He admitted. “But I’m probably going to lose it.” He scrubbed his hand across his face, stressed. Concerned for this random stranger, for some reason, you had probed forward.

“Why?” You asked. Taehyung had shaken his head.

“I guess I’m just not cut out for it.” He had confessed to you, ashamed. “Don’t worry about it. All the best with your dream job, Miss Stranger.”

And with that he had gotten off the bus. It was still bucketing outside and for some reason you had watched him as he alighted from the bus. An old homeless lady had been shivering alone at the bus stop and you had just enough time to watch him hand over his umbrella and sprint off into the pouring rain before the bus pulled off the kerb. It would only take a few seconds to soak him completely through and if he caught a cold that would not help the potentially-unemployed situation.

Someone who would give up their umbrella for a random person like that, you had thought, shouldn’t lose their job.

And when you encountered him the next week, seemingly with no memory of your encounter but fresh from a scolding from his superiors, you had timidly offered to help him out. Simply because you’d seen him be kind. Not because of a workplace crush or because he was good-looking (although he is very, very good-looking). Just because you thought kindness should be rewarded with kindness.

You tell Taehyung as much and he goes silent, watching you with unreadable eyes for a long moment. You begin to feel the sweet, cotton-y pull of sleep tug at your eyelids as he continues to remain speechless.

“But I guess I went overboard,” You confess with a yawn, struggling to keep your eyes open. “And I overloaded myself and forgot why I was helping you in the first place… but that was why I started.”

You don’t notice the way Taehyung’s eyes go slightly misty at your words. Because it is custom, amongst his people, to always go out of their way to help others. At the cost of yourself, you must protect others. But never has he met another being not from his kind willing to do the same. And never has he been repaid for the numerous favours that have been requested of him. But all this time, he was being rewarded for his kindness by you. Not because he asked for it or because you owed it to him… but because you wanted to. Because you thought it was the right thing to do.

An oddly warm and pleasant feeling spreads through his chest and he finds himself smiling to himself.

Your eyes droop shut and flutter in a valiant effort to stay awake. Taehyung watches this fondly.

“Go to sleep, sweetness.” He whispers and almost on cue you subconsciously nuzzle into his warmth and fall silent.

He pulls you in close and soon find himself lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

-to be continued-

#taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung fic #kim taehyung #bts fluff #writing

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

Text

A PR stunt, pt.2 (S.M.)

Summary: Shawn’s PR stunt was meant to further his career, but it damaged his relationship irreversibly. However, he can’t let things be without at least trying to make things right.

Warnings: ANGST

Word Count: 1730

A/N - this is the first fic in line for Part 2s week. Enjoy!

A PR Stunt, pt.1

Shawn stared at the whole in wall, his hand completely ruined. Knuckles red and swollen, his eyes matching them, hair a mess of curls on top of his head. Hell, his look was the least messy thing about him when Andrew walked in.

“What did you do to yourself?” Andrew sighs, not bothering to shout at him. Shawn definitely didn’t need him to add onto his misery. In all his years with his favorite client, friend, brother – Andrew never found him in such a state. He wasn’t stupid, adding things up pretty quickly in his head. He told Shawn that the PR stunt would be good for his career, he recommended it. But he also warned him that in such times where distance and a third party are involved, hearts tend to break. Relationships are never as solid as you deem them to be and Shawn decided not to listen.

“She left me.” Shawn croaked out, trying to create a proper fist with his hand before hissing in pain, his eyes closing in agony of more than just physical hurt.

“And you decide to break your hand for it? Night of the show?” Andrew shakes his head, hands on his hips because as much as he wants to be calm, his nerves are at an all-time high. But Shawn didn’t care.

What Shawn thought about, what he cared about, it remained back north – in Canada.

In the past three years of knowing Y/N, he spent two of them being a complete idiot – a blind man in spite of the brightest light staring back right at him. He never saw her as more than a friend, someone to rely on, to have even in the darkest of times. She was the one he’d call when he’s too drunk to drive, babbling about his latest conquest in the process and all the while, she’d just run her fingers through his hair and smile softly down as his head burned a hole in her lap. She always had some wisdom to share, something funny to say, a kind gesture to give and she did it all…selflessly.

He took that for granted. All of it.

But one night he finally saw her – the way she’d tilt her head to the left ever so slightly when he speaks, and only when he speaks. The way her nose scrunches up when she disagrees with someone’s argument, but waits patiently for them to finish in order to offer her insight. The way her lips purse when she’s holding back a smile when he says something in an attempt to woo her, but actually embarrasses himself completely…Even the way she furrows her eyebrows and a small, horizontal line appears right before them, like a tiny bridge that holds all her anger in but disappears the moment her eyebrows return to their usual position.

Y/N is the person that doesn’t hold a grudge, incapable of cutting people off no matter how toxic they may be. She is selfless, kind and openhearted, her mercy knows no bounds. But it found its end, for the first time for as long as Shawn knew her. She decided to cut him off, to end their relationship, to say goodbye to him and that is everything he needs to break. People like Y/N never give up on people and she gave up on him…that speaks volume of how wrongly he treated her.

“Andrew, I want to go home. I need to talk to her.” Rubbing his forehead with his left hand, Shawn runs his curls back and away from his face in frustration.

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Andrew tries to reason with him, his own heart aching for the young man before him because such heartbreak is sure to make him crumble…but in Andrew’s mind this pain will be useful. Artists who suffer always deliver heartfelt lyrics, incredible art that lives on much longer than the generic happy ones. In his mind, this break up is a goldmine.

“BUT I WANT TO SEE HER. Even for a moment. Even if she’ll slap me silly for thinking for one moment I was worthy of her. Because I wasn’t. I knew it. All along. I’ve finally proven it.” Shawn stands, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, the taste making him cringe and then sigh.

“Doctor first, show second, plane right after?” Andrew offers, giving the kid one chance to do what he wants, counting on the plan to fail miserably which will only deepen the sting of his wound.

Giving up, Shawn agrees, knowing he has to uphold his duties to his fans. After all, he wanted to make people happy and in a way, he hoped it would ease his own worries.

At the end of the night, his hand was broken. He couldn’t play the show, but he didn’t mind giving his all when he sang his heart out, even dedicating ‘Fix you’ to Y/N without thinking twice about it. The fans asked about his hand, his only response being ‘I’m an idiot’ to avoid speaking about what truly ails him.

But once he got on the plane, his stomach turned to knots.

He wondered what he could say to make things better. If he could truly fix their relationship, mend their broken trust. He wondered if Y/N was completely lost to him.

Although he hated that, Shawn knew he would have to play her, manipulate her kindness to his own benefit as selfishly as he always does. He knew that she would be lost to him otherwise. So he will lie, manipulate, do whatever – just this once, one last time.

The ride from the airport is a blur in his mind, having trouble connecting pictures and sounds, finding himself an anxious mess – desperate and willing to do anything to stop the pain in his chest, even for a moment.

Knocking on the door with his left fist, twice firmly and the third being suspended in air as he hears the faint ‘Come in’ from the other side. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, wanting to come in with his usual speech prepared about how she can’t do that because the world is filled with people who have anything but good intentions and letting someone in without checking who it is might be the stupidest thing in the world. But he doesn’t. He can’t do that when that very stupid thing is why he’ll enter her apartment and have a chance to speak to her.

He walks in, looking around the dark apartment, the only light coming from her kitchen – the light he always left on and she would always lecture him about it. He stumbles on her doorstep, groaning lowly before venturing inside. The sound of his song is unmistakable, giving him something to follow in order to find the girl who stood with her back turned and her hair down, lazily falling down her back. The thing is, she never wears her hair down at home.

“Did you mean it?” Her voice startles him, his gasp passing his lips inadvertently. His heart hammered against his rib cage, giving him certainty it isn’t dead like he feared. His heart is very much alive and it belongs to her alone…it beats for her and no one else.

“How? What?” He manages to mumble out, running his fingers through his hair, holding his hand to his stomach. The pain radiating from it is great, but he refused any painkillers before speaking to her. He didn’t want to be in a haze during what could very well be the last time he speaks to her. He wanted to remember everything about her, from the way she looks to the way she sounds, smells, moves.

Turning around, she frowns, her eyebrows knitting and that horizontal line appearing.

“I know your walk. You step with your entire foot at once, always managing to somehow trip on the doorstep. Which you did. I know you did, even if you think you don’t. And I’m talking about what you said at the concert. Did you mean what you said?” Just as she finishes, the words he spoke earlier sound through.

“Some of you have come to believe I am dating my new friend, but that’s not true. The kiss you’ve witnessed, all of it…it was just footage or a new video. But it hurt some of you. Angered some of you. It ruined the best thing I’ve ever had in this life – my relationship with Y/N. Whom I actually do love. Do cherish. Do take for granted at times. I don’t deserve you love, I don’t. But if you’re listening, know I love you more than anything and I am sorry. I truly am. And this song, as all songs I sing, is dedicated to you.”

“That. Did you mean that?” She repeats her question, her eyes void of emotion despite them rimming red, the smeared mascara under her eyes betraying what she suffered.

“Every word and more.” Shawn confirms, stepping closer only to find an obstacle in her outstretched hand, her palm pressing into his chest.

“Okay.” She breathes out, pausing to look up at his face and the deeply pink cheeks she loved to tease him about.

“When do you have to go back?” She asks, surprising him, but not entirely. A part of him knew she’d want to try and fix things, the speech itself being a manipulative technique.

“Tomorrow noon. But are we okay?” Shawn whispers, placing his left hand over her smaller one on his chest, clasping it in his gently.

“I don’t know. Maybe we will be. Eventually. But I don’t know now.” She sighs, tucking herself into his side, embracing him with all the strength she could muster. She held him tightly all through the night, until his heart stopped tearing itself and hers took in all his pain. He could feel the dull ache still, but he felt more certain about his future now.

Even as he left, Y/N decided to come along and send him off. As she always did. While their relationship wasn’t magically fixed overnight, it began to mend. Soon, Y/N will join him on tour, the trust will rebuild and with it, they will find their way back to who they were. No...To something better, more solid and everlasting.

Tags: @accalialionheart @esoltis280 @ourlittleshawnie @heyits-claire

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes x y/n

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v-thinks-on · 4 years

Text

Jeeves Gets Sick - Part 1

Next I would be the first to tell you that I’m far from the most chipper fellow in the mornings. It usually takes quite a bit of groaning and blinking to get myself upright at all, and I’m not fit for company until I’ve had my morning restorative in the form of a steaming cup of oolong.

I struggled one eye open, and then the other, and pushed myself in a bit of an upward direction. I had just started to have the presence of mind to begin to fancy a spot of tea, when to my distinct surprise, it did not appear. You may be thinking right now that this is a bit thick, that this Wooster fellow expects, just because he’s thinking of tea, for a cup of the stuff to miraculously appear in hand. But all I can say to that is that you have never employed a man like Jeeves. It’s like a sort of telepathy; as soon as I’m up and conscious enough to be thinking of tea, lo! It appears, and such has been the case since day one of his employment. How I’ll ever manage without the man is beyond me.

Given all that, you can imagine that I was rather put off by the non-appearance of the tea upon that particular m. I was just starting to wonder if I should give it all up as a bad job, go back to sleep, and try again later, or if perhaps my dinner the night before hadn’t been a touch too rich and was giving me strange dreams, when the tea did, at long last, make an appearance. It appeared in a sort of rummy way, however. The tea was there, of course, and Jeeves was there carrying it in, just as usual, but rummy, like the sort of dream where everything is normal, except you’ve forgotten you had a Latin exam the next day and when you go in to take it, it’s all in Greek.

Perhaps I’d do best to illustrate the rumminess of it all with some specifics. Jeeves, as you know, is a silent sort, I don’t mean in speech, though sometimes he can be so taciturn you forget he’s there, but I mean in movement. One moment he’s there, the next he’s not, or vice-versa, and you never hear the coming or going. But on that morning, I could have sworn I heard his footsteps whispering against the carpet as he approached. Or, for another demonstrative example, take Jeeves’s expression; he can give the best stuffed frog impression of the lot, I’m sure he’s won prizes for it at contests, but even when he isn’t wearing the mask, so to speak, there’s always a certain nonchalance to his bearing. I don’t think I’d ever seen a feverish spark dancing in his inky blacks, or seen him glassy-eyed like a fellow after a sleepless night.

I know it wasn’t much to go off of. In all other ways, Jeeves was impeccable as always, with his “Good morning, sir,” and “I hope you slept well, sir.” There was hardly a thing out of place, but between the late appearance and the aforementioned symptoms, I thought I had something of a case.

I was so badly startled by the whole upset to the usual routine that I was mostly coherent even before I’d had my first sip of the oolong. Still, I broached the matter cautiously as I took the cup from his tray, “Jeeves, are you quite all right. You seem a little out of sorts, what?”

“Sir?” Jeeves asked stiffly, with a bit of the air of an offended cat.

“A little peaky, I mean,” I attempted to clarify, “Like you’ve come down with something.”

“Is there something not to your liking, sir?” Jeeves said, as though he’d only heard every other word.

“Not exactly, I just-”

“Will that be all, sir?”

I sipped my tea, defeated. “Right ho, Jeeves.”

“Very good, sir.”

With that, he left the room. I could have sworn I heard him go.

I was not to be so easily contented. I ruminated as I readied for the day. You must understand that in all the years I’d known Jeeves, I had never seen the man so much as falter. He’s something of a paragon, if that’s the word I’m looking for; where other men fail, he invariably prevails. He gives an invulnerable sort of impression, as though nothing could ever knock him down. And yet, here he was, late, unsteady, and feverish. The signs were subtle, but I couldn’t deny their presence.

I didn’t like it. It was awfully feudal of Jeeves to keep a stiff upper lip and soldier on through rain or high seas and what not - or whatever the expression is exactly - but for all that I depend on the chap, I could last a day without his services. It wouldn’t be easy, but I could manage it, and for a cause as good as his speedy recovery from whatever it was that ailed him I would do it with pride. But the thought of Jeeves struck ill by some unknown pestilence shook me to the core. I can hardly begin to say how much I value the man and the thought of him wasting away was more than I could bally well take.

I strode out to give him a piece of my mind over breakfast. But where breakfast ought have been, there was nothing in its place.

I made like the cat in the adage, letting I dare not wait upon I would, as Jeeves would say, for but a moment before barging into the kitchen. There, I found Jeeves, a mere shadow of his usually impressive self. He was sitting down on the job before breakfast was out on the table, and he faltered in getting to his feet as I entered his lair. His eyes were undeniably bright with fever and his brow damp with sweat, a few hairs curled out of place. To be seen in such a state, the man was clearly on his deathbed.

“Sir?” he began.

I silenced him with a wave and cut him off besides. This was more than just one of those arguments that inevitably occur with two stubborn chaps living in close proximity; Jeeves’s very life was on the line and I daren’t falter.

“Not a word, Jeeves. You are plainly ill. Even a fool could see it, and I know you are no fool. Even I can see it.” My voice took on something of a pleading note all on its own accord.

“Sir,” he attempted to protest, but even his words came out weak.

“Dash it all, Jeeves!” I exclaimed, startled by my own vehemence. “I won’t have you working in such a state. Call for a doctor!”

He straightened his posture and seemed to strain against the fever. “That’s very kind of you, sir, but hardly necessary.”

I refused to hear a word against it. “Not another word, Jeeves! I’m going to get a doctor and I expect you to go straight to bed and rest until you’re back to your implacable self.”

“Sir, there is no need to call for a doctor; it’s nothing that a little rest won’t cure.” It pained me to see his resistance failing even as I chipped away at it.

Jeeves’s word is usually taken as law, but this was too serious a thing to trust to his stubborn insistence. “No, Jeeves, rest. I’ll be back with a doctor before you know it.”

Jeeves let out the barest suggestion of a sigh. His breathing seemed laboured. “If you must, sir, then permit me to recommend my family physician. I have his London address.”

I stared at the address Jeeves provided. “Are you sure? I could certainly find you a better man on Harley street.”

“He has my absolute trust, sir. I would see no other.” There was something steely in his manner, even glassy-eyed as he was, that made it clear he would make no further concessions, and I didn’t have time to argue. The man has an iron will when challenged and that I had managed to push him so far as I had was evidence of how far he’d fallen.

“Very good, Jeeves. And you’ll rest while I’m gone? None of this working rot?”

“Yes, sir.” He almost sounded relieved, which only confirmed my darkest fears.

He saw me to the door despite my instance to the contrary. I could see his mask cracking all the while. His air of exhaustion would not have looked out of place on me the morning after a night of revelry, but on Jeeves, it looked horribly wrong. I had half a mind to carry the man to bed myself just to be sure he kept his word, but then I doubtless would have had a revolt on my hands, and so I contented myself with finding him a doctor.

The place was easy enough to find. A shiny new plaque by the door boasted the residence of “Dr. John Watson, M.D.” With a name like that, a fellow can only think of Sherlock Holmes’s pal, but there must be countless men with the name John Watson in the metrop., certainly plenty of them doctors, and all tired of being asked how Sherlock Holmes is doing. For my part, I didn’t very well care if the man was the prince of Persia or a patch-coated street kid like one of the Baker Street Irregulars as long as he had the stuff for Jeeves.

I gave the door a pounding that could have been considered frantic, and a maid soon swung it open and ushered me into a parlour. I believe I managed to impress upon her the urgency of my visit, because it wasn’t long before a doctorly fellow came down to see me. He was a broad-built mustachioed sort, regarding me with the utmost seriousness.

I have been quelled by lesser gazes than his, but I had my mission and didn’t even let him get so far as bidding me a terse good morning before I exclaimed, “It’s Jeeves! He’s ill!”

A glint of recognition struck the fellow’s eyes. “Reginald Jeeves?”

“That’s the one! He said you were his family doctor.”

The doctor smiled a little at that, but quickly turned serious. “Then I expect we have not a moment to waste.”

We hurried back to the flat as fast as feet could fly and wheels could spin.

On the way, Dr. Watson asked, “Am I correct in presuming that you must be Mr. Wooster?”

“Right-o!” I exclaimed. “I mean to say, yes, I’m him.”

The doctor nodded as though everything was just as he expected. “I doubt Jeeves would have sent you to me unless it was something serious.”

I twiddled my fingers a little, suddenly realizing something awkward about my position. “It wasn’t Jeeves who asked for you - well, he said he wouldn’t see anyone else - but I was the one who insisted. You see, he was all out of sorts this morning!”

“What were his symptoms?” Dr. Watson asked, his manner suddenly businesslike.

“Well, to start with, he was late with the tea in the morning, and then I swear I could actually hear him walking around, when, well, you know how he usually appears and disappears here and there. And then when it came time for breakfast, I found him sitting in the kitchen before anything was out on the table, and his eyes looked absolutely feverish!”

I’m afraid I made a muddle of the telling of it, but Dr. Watson nodded along as though it was all clear to him.

It felt like ages, but finally we arrived back at the flat. The place was silent and to all appearances empty. I half expected to find Jeeves collapsed on the floor, overcome by a sudden spell of weakness, but I bravely led the doctor on, through Jeeves’s lair, into his quarters. And there the man was, lying obediently in bed, though I noted with some displeasure that he was already sitting upright when we arrived. Jeeves made to struggle to his feet, but I waved him down with the firmest look I could muster.

So he contented himself with a quiet, “Sir,” and “Dr. Watson,” each accompanied by a respectful nod.

Generally, as you would expect, I spend very little time in my man’s quarters. Therefore, I was a little surprised by the cramped spareness of it all. The fellow constantly rescuing me from all manners of soup deserved rather better than what could have passed for a closet furnished with a cot, some drawers, and some shelves laden with all manner of tomes. But alas that was a problem for another day. For the time being, the three of us crammed in to the best of our ability; Jeeves in bed, of course, Dr. Watson on a chair brought in from the kitchen positioned at the bedside, and I hovering at the foot of the bed by the drawers.

“My apologies Dr. Watson, I am afraid there has been something of a miscommunication,” Jeeves said, somehow projecting the very image of a valet, even though he was abed in his brown dressing gown, looking only a little less feverish than when I left him. “Mr. Wooster’s gentlemanly spirit demanded that my recovery be overseen by a doctor, however I assure you that my condition is not at all serious and I find it to be much improved even after a brief respite.”

“Dr. Watson will be the judge of that!” I insisted, drawing myself up to a considerable height - with Jeeves incapacitated, I was by far the tallest chap in the room.

The doctor glanced between Jeeves and myself, no doubt weighing our words, though the only expression I saw cross his features was the suggestion of a smile. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Wooster. May I have a moment alone with my patient?”

“Oh, certainly! I’ll biff off then, toodle-pip!” I hastily ducked out of the room with a final glance at a less than pleased Jeeves, and settled myself in the sitting room for the long haul.

I lit a gasper to ease my rattled nerves and let the soothing aroma wash over me. You may be asking why I would prefer a gasper when I have Italian and Turkish cigarettes close at hand, and to that I can only point to the fact that Jeeves always smokes gaspers, and so I find them to have a similar reassuring effect when the man himself is absent, though certainly nothing equal to the real article.

I confess, I was rather far gone. I kept glancing back at the door to the kitchen, expecting Dr. Watson to emerge at any moment with news that I could only imagine inevitably got worse with every passing second. I felt rather like those Greek chappies; like Damon wasting away in his cell waiting for his pal Pythias - or rather Pythias racing back to wherever it was, absolutely frantic about Damon wasting away in that cell of his, only hoping he wasn’t too late. Not that I had any illusion that Jeeves saw his mentally negligible young master as anything even approaching his Damon or Pythias.

It was difficult not to envision Jeeves like one of those damsels in the pictures, slowly and inevitably wasting away in the sickbed as her family cried around her. I thought I heard a distant cough coming from the other room; the first innocuous symptom before consumption set in. I was just beginning to compose a fitting eulogy for such a great man with a few tears in my eyes when at long last I heard a door swing open and shut, and a steady gait that could only belong to Dr. Watson approached through the kitchen.

I jumped up to greet him, almost as fast as Jeeves when I interrupt him when he’s reading. “Is he…?”

The doctor smiled. “Don’t worry, Jeeves will be all right. He merely has a fever.”

“It’s not consumption?”

“No,” Dr. Watson said gently.

“Right-o!” I exclaimed, significantly braced.

“He should recover completely in a day or two, but I’ve given him an order to rest until then.”

“That’ll be just the thing!”

I hastily bade Dr. Watson take a seat and offered him a drink to toast to Jeeves’s health and what not and the kindly doctor obliged.

I downed my glass perhaps a bit too quickly, but a bracing drink really was the thing to take the edge off of my lingering fears and the jitters of relief.

Just as the need for further conversation began to make itself known - I had some mind to bring it around to Jeeves - the doctor remarked, “Has Jeeves been working himself particularly hard of late?”

“I haven’t been giving him any more work than usual,” I said with some righteous indignation. This chap may have been a friend of Jeeves, but that didn’t give him licence to critique how I ran my household.

“No, I would think not,” Dr. Watson said with just a touch of exasperation. “It is only that I have often had the occasion to observe that when a gentleman is particularly intelligent, he may have difficulty recognizing his own limits and the limits of others.”

“And overwork himself, you mean?” I asked, a bit taken aback.

“Yes.”

“I don’t think Jeeves ever does that. He’s as hardworking a chap as any, of course, but I don’t think he’d over do it.” I hesitated. “Really, he always seems so infallible, like nothing’s too much for him to handle. I don’t think I’ve ever known him to get ill.”

Dr. Watson nodded sagely. “Jeeves has done his best to appear infallible for as long as I’ve known him.”

“You knew him growing up, what?”

“No, Jeeves was a young man by the time I made his acquaintance.”

“Jeeves’s cousin Bunny said he was always particularly intelligent.”

“Yes, he was a very personable young man, but always at something of a distance.” After a moment’s pause, Dr. Watson forced himself to his feet. “I should get on with my rounds, but it was a pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Wooster. Jeeves is fortunate to have a friend such as yourself.”

“I say!” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet after him. “You mean it?” I’m usually not met with enthusiastic approval so much as weary disdain by the older element.

“Certainly. Jeeves was a friendless young man, but he seems to have taken a liking to you.”

I may have flushed at his words even as I protested, “What about his cousins? Bunny told me about the games they used to play. I’m just the hapless young master.”

To my surprise, the doctor frowned. “I wouldn’t call them friendly.”

I wanted to protest in Bunny’s defense - he’s not only a cousin of Jeeves’s, but a pal of mine - but then I remembered Jeeves’s cousin Dorian and his airy teasing that had a cruel edge to it, and instead, I asked, “Did Jeeves really say all that?”

“Not in so many words, but I’ve learned to observe a little over the years.”

“Well, I say! It’s really me who’s lucky to have Jeeves, with all he does for me. I only wish I could do enough to repay him.”

“I’m certain that you repay him in your own way.”

If my dubiousness showed, Dr. Watson didn’t comment on it as I showed him to the door. I bid him a cheery “Toodle-pip!” and retired to the sitting room.

Abruptly left to my own devices with no urgent mission at hand, I found myself rather at a loss. I puttered about for a bit, lit another gasper, finished off my s. and b., and even gave the book I had been reading the night before a cursory flip, but all the while my thoughts lingered on Jeeves. The words on the page meant nothing compared to the looming fear of Jeeves’s condition taking a sudden turn for the worse.

Finally, I decided enough was enough.

The floorboards creaked more than they’d ever before had the gall to creak as I toed it through the kitchen, toward Jeeves’s quarters, doing my best not to wake the man from his much needed slumbers. It was only as I stopped at the door, a hand upon the knob, that I realized the bally rumminess of it all. Whether Jeeves had really taken something of a liking to me or not, I couldn’t very well go peeking into my man’s quarters, ill or the very image of health, without a good reason.

And just as I was dithering at the door, my stomach came roaring to the rescue. It wasn’t so much a roar as a gurgle, but it made itself known and the next moment I had a plan of action fully formed. The first order of business was tea. The morning’s oolong had long since gone cold, and so I set about fiddling with the stove.

Perhaps thanks to my Aunt Agatha - that horrible aunt who howls at the moon and drinks the blood of the innocent - you may be under the impression that I have no ability to take care of myself without Jeeves acting as my keeper. That is not entirely true. I am certain I would waste away to nothing without him for a week, but, as I have said, for a day or two with just cause, I can manage. And to whomever has given you the impression that I cannot operate my own stove, I say “tinkerty-tonk.”

That is not to say that I am an expert tea-brewer or have in any way mastered the arts of the home at which Jeeves excels, but I can very well pull together a cup of tea. After a rather lot of prodding and waiting and prodding and waiting again, I emerged with a piping hot cup of just the stuff. It smelled about right, though it was difficult to tell after the steam burned my nostrils. It was with some measure of pride then, that I carried it ho, into Jeeves’s quarters, careful not to spill a drop - I shook some droplets off the saucer for good measure, before gently propping open the door.

Jeeves was, of course, alert and awake upon my arrival, greeting me with an ever formal, “Sir?” his tone just barely beginning to question what I was dashed well doing there.

“What ho, Jeeves!” I proclaimed, gesticulating somewhat more than I ought with the precious cargo in hand - I hastily put a stop to it before all the tea splashed out onto the floor. “Just come with a spot of tea, what?”

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” Jeeves said, sounding a little confused, the poor sick lamb.

Once the cargo had been carefully rested upon the bedside table, I took a good look at my man. His state was greatly deteriorated from his usual strength, propped up on a few threadbare pillows, his dark hair in wild disarray, and his eyes drooping. It took him a bit of effort just to push himself far enough upright to have a drink of tea.

I hastily bent over to assist him, but I’m afraid I rather more got in the way.

“Thank you, sir,” Jeeves said softly, giving the cup a tentative sip.

Despite all the chaos around them, his features remained impassive, those dark eyes with their inscrutable infinite depths, regarding me just a foot or so away from my own baby blues - a shiver ran down my spine.

It jolted me into self-awareness and I jumped the rest of the way upright. “Just thought I’d hop by and see how you’re coping, what?”

“Very kind of you, sir.”

“Is there anything else you need, what? A book to read, or any extra blankets or what not?”

“No, sir. As Dr. Watson instructed, all I require now is rest.”

“Oh, yes, right-o then! I’ll let you get back to that, what? I’ll just be popping down to the Drones for lunch then, unless you’d rather I stayed here, that is.”

“Not at all, sir.”

“Right-o!”

After bumping into the wall, I backed out the door and closed it behind me before taking a moment to regain my bearings. I had half a mind to wonder where Jeeves kept the cooking sherry, in the hope that it might quell my firing nerves, but thankfully it soon passed, my head righted itself, and I set off for the Drones post haste in search of a more appetizing apéritif.

You may be thinking that being overwhelmed with gratitude when Jeeves miraculously lifts victory from the soup of defeat is one thing, but it doesn’t become a fellow to get all in a tizzy like this over something so simple as bringing his man some tea, but it must be understood that the circs. were rather far out of the ordinary. For one, it was me bringing Jeeves the tea, rather than the other way around. And for another, this was no ordinary man, but Jeeves, the paragon of a valet who had gotten me out of the soup more times than I could count and was an inimitable man besides, and so I dashed well wanted to do right by him in his hour of need, even though it had me well out of my usual depths.

Under the aforementioned circs., it was a somber, serious Bertram Wooster that lunched at the Drones that afternoon. I tossed a bit of bread about with the lads, but my thoughts lingered back in the flat with Jeeves. As I finished my lunch - more picked at rather than devoured, as would have been expected of a Wooster short one breakfast - I asked for some soup to bring back to my indisposed man. As it so happens, the cook at the Drones is acquainted with Jeeves and happily obliged, and so I was sent home bearing his sympathies and a tureen of his own special recipe.

I hurried back to the flat with the precious tureen and carefully ladled out a bowl of still warm soup. With a lot of slow, awkward movements, I managed to maneuver the door to Jeeves’s quarters open, soup in hand, without making a spill, only to find the man himself fast asleep in bed. I felt a small pang of disappointment, shortly overcome by relief that he was finally resting. He looked awfully peaceful; every muscle usually kept at stiff attention, for once allowed to relax. The teacup I had left with him before departing for the Drones now sat empty on the bedside table, and so in its place I put the bowl of soup, ready for whenever he woke.

Just as I was tiptoeing out, I heard Jeeves stirring in the bed behind me. I glanced back to see him hastily drawing himself to attention - as much so as he could manage.

“Thank you, sir,” he said hoarsely.

“Not at all, Jeeves!” I exclaimed, my voice too loud for the sickroom. “Bon appetit, what?” And with that, I stumbled back out into the kitchen.

With nothing more to be done - my bearings quickly regained - I returned to sulk about the sitting room with a gasper in one hand and a glass in the other. I’m not usually a terribly busy chap. I live a life of leisure and I, for one, am content not to be running about at all hours of the day and night, as much as my Aunt Agatha and her ilk may believe I do too little of the former and too much of the latter. No, it’s the quiet life for Bertram W. on all fronts. But on this occasion, I was downright preoccupied and rather wished I had something else to hold up my mind.

I lay about, did a spot of pacing, and lay about some more. I would have poked at the keys of the piano, but if my light tread was enough to awaken Jeeves, the instrument would have been a sure thing. And I couldn’t very well leave the flat in case Jeeves’s condition took a sudden turn for the worse.

I threw myself back down upon the sofa a bit more loudly than I ought and made a half-hearted attempt to reimmerse myself in the mystery that had seemed so captivating the day before. Today, however, each clever remark made me think of Jeeves’s sly, understated wit, each foolish mistake of how he would have doubtless done better, and each description of a corpse inevitably called to mind the image of him huddled beneath the sheets, fighting off death’s icy grasp as I sat reading, whiling away the hours.

I could stand it no longer. I tottered through the kitchen to Jeeves’s quarters just to be certain he was getting his requisite rest and hadn’t been calling out to me, his hoarse voice too quiet to be heard through the walls.

Jeeves lay in bed, to all appearances fast asleep, not at all like a fellow fighting off the icy hand of death. The soup, now lukewarm, sat untouched on the table where I had left it. Jeeves’s eyes fluttered open upon my arrival.

Met with his sharp gaze, I hastily cast about for an excuse. “I don’t suppose there’s anything else you need, what? Any blankets or water or anything?”

“No, sir.” More gently, Jeeves insisted, “You are very kind, sir, but as you said yourself, what I need now is rest.”

“Oh, right-o.”

“Sir, if you would be more comfortable, I would have no objection to you remaining here.”

“I say! Rather! If that’s all right with you, I mean.”

“Certainly, sir. It would be preferable by far to the current arrangement.”

“Right-o! I’ll just get my book then.”

I dashed back to the sitting room, and in two blinks of an eye, I was back in Jeeves’s quarters, perched on the kitchen chair Dr. Watson had left by the bedside, book in hand. Jeeves regarded me a moment with something approaching a smile, before letting his head fall back upon the pillow and his eyes fall shut.

I sat silent and still, not daring to move lest the noise reach his acute senses and jar him from the dreamless. But I didn’t mind the stillness so much. There was something soothing about the sight of the man, peacefully at rest. I fancied I saw the trace of a smile lingering across his finely chiseled features. Even in sleep, there was something undeniably remarkable about the chap. You could see him gleaming with intelligence from miles away, his head sticking out a little in back just to accommodate all of that grey matter.

His eyelid flickered and I hastily turned my attention to my book.

It was much easier reading with Jeeves there beside me, sleeping soundly. I just made sure to turn the pages quietly and on a few occasions had to bite back exclamations, but on the whole, it was smooth sailing. Whenever a corpse showed up, all I had to do was glance down at Jeeves to be sure he was as life-like as ever, and looking healthier every minute for all the rest he was getting.

I don’t know exactly when I dozed off too, but the next thing I knew, I felt a warm hand on my wrist pulling me back into awareness, my back and neck sore as the dickens from sleeping where I sat, in that dratted uncomfortable kitchen chair.

“You may find a chair in the sitting room more to your liking, sir,” Jeeves remarked.

“You don’t say, Jeeves,” I retorted, still a bit groggy as I rolled out my neck and shoulders, and strained my back.

“Yes, sir.”

I rubbed open my eyes, still struggling in the bright light of day. Jeeves was still there in the bed beside me - not that I was so lucky as to have slept in the bed; I having been consigned to that dashed uncomfortable chair. He looked well, less feverish, I mean, his eyes back to their usual luster and what not, though he still seemed a little worse for the wear, tired and worn.

“Sleep well, what?” I asked.

“Yes, very well. Thank you, sir.” He certainly seemed refreshed.

Jeeves regarded me with a sort of rummy soft expression, if you get my meaning, nothing bad, just unusual for the chap, like he was amused by something, but without the amusement, or like I had somehow caught him off his guard, but with none of the startled look of having been caught.

“Feeling back to your old self, what?”

“Yes, sir.” Jeeves pushed himself upright, looking like he was about to get out of bed.

I hastily gestured him back down.

“Sir, your concern is gratifying, but I assure you that it is unnecessary.”

“Not necessary? Now see here Jeeves, you’ll get as much rest as Dr. Watson said if you know what’s good for you! I won’t very well have you suffering a re- what is it, Jeeves?’

“A relapse, sir?”

“I won’t have you suffering a relapse just because you’re fool enough to go back to work before you’re properly recovered and I’m fool enough to let you. And that’s final,” I added, seeing an argumentative glint in his eyes.

“Very good, sir,” Jeeves relented at last.

I was feeling rather pleased with my latest victory and it was with a bit of a Jeevesian flourish that I asked, “Now, is there anything I can get for you?”

“If you will not permit me to get it for myself, I believe a spoon for the soup would be called for, sir.”

“Oh! Yes, of course! Right on it, Jeeves!”

I hopped over to the kitchen, rummaged around a bit, and hopped back with the called for utensil.

I lingered by Jeeves’s sickbed for a few ticks longer, chewing the fat and what not, before finally biffing off to the Drones for dinner and leaving my man to his belated meal - the soup had gone cold, but he stubbornly refused my every offer to reheat it for him on the stove. Dinner was much like lunch; quiet and brief, occupied with thoughts of Jeeves. I saw Bingo and some of the other fellows, but I didn’t have the heart for more than a round or two, before hastening back home.

The flat was quieter than I had left it - silent, in fact - but the mouth-watering smell of something cooking wafted in from the kitchen. However, I found nothing simmering on the stove and, as far as I could discern, not a thing had been touched since I left for the Drones. Jeeves was awake, but not upright when I slipped into his quarters, looking still fitter than when I had left him mere hours before. I noted that the dishes on the bedside table were gone without a trace.

I beamed at the chap and proclaimed, “What ho, Jeeves!”

“Good evening, sir,” he answered with some suggestion of a smile.

“Rested and comfortable, what?”

“Yes, sir. I take it that your dinner at the Drones was satisfactory?”

“Rather!” Back in Jeeves’s company, everything took on a rosier tint, even my hasty supper. “But it’s good to be home, what?”

“Indeed, sir.”

Outside of Jeeves’s cozy little room, the sky was rapidly darkening. It wasn’t nearly a late enough hour for Bertram W. to consider calling it a night under usual circs., but these were hardly the usual circs. I was feeling a bit drowsy myself and I thought I saw Jeeves’s eyes beginning to droop. The chap needed all the rest he could get to make a full recovery.

“Do you need anything for the night?” I asked on a bit of a delay. “I can bring over some blankets from the spare bedroom. Or I could put up another pot of tea.”

After a moment’s consideration, Jeeves replied, “An additional blanket would not be unwelcome, sir.”

“Right-o!”

I yanked the blanket off the bed in the spare bedroom, gave it a quick fold, and carried it proudly back to Jeeves. It was a bit of a joint effort getting the blanket all set up and making sure Jeeves was comfortable for the night. I popped back into the kitchen to bring him a glass of water, and then I lingered, hovering by the bedside, unsure what else to do, but reluctant to leave the man’s side.

“Need anything else, what?”

“No, sir. Thank you sir.” He looked up at me, his usually keen or alternatively empty gaze again strangely soft and earnest, a gentle smile playing across his features.

I could only beam back. I had half an impulse to bend down and brush a stray hair from his forehead, which I hastily restrained, pocketing my hands to keep them from acting of their own accord as they are wont to do.

All was quiet, the square outside the window dark and still. We seemed to be very much alone in the world.

“Good night then, Jeeves,” I said at last.

“Good night, sir.”

“‘Till tomorrow, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good night, then,” I said again, and bumped into the door frame on my way out into the kitchen.

I paced about the flat a bit, picking things up, putting them back down, and what not, feeling rather at a loss - what Jeeves does in the evenings after seeing me to bed is one of life’s great mysteries. But the trials of the day were enough to wear down even the Wooster spirit, and so, with a great yawn, I retreated back into my own bedroom and hastened to bed, hoping the next day would herald a return to normalcy in the Wooster abode.

Part of The Mysterious Mr. Jeeves

#v writes #Jeeves and Wooster #The Mysterious Mr. Jeeves #Jeeves Gets Sick #Dr. John Watson

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bard-llama · 4 years

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That Wild Blue Yonder Ch 2

Chapter One Here

Read on AO3

Learning about an entire other world was a good way to pass an afternoon, honestly. But when they had to light candles to keep talking – with just a little flirting. Jaskier was pretty sure she was into him – he decided it was time to return to his family. He wasn’t sure how he would explain it, exactly – definitely not the truth. Who knew what they might do to the wardrobe, but he was definitely coming back!

He told Madeline as much. “Can I come back tomorrow? And maybe we can go explore outside?”

She laughed at him. “You can’t actually run into a monster that easily.”

“Still!”

Madeline walked with him to the wardrobe. “Well, I guess this is goodbye?”

“Only for a little while,” Jaskier smiled. He pulled her into a quick hug. “Thanks for not murdering me. And for not freaking out in general.”

She startled when he touched her, like she wasn’t used to it, but she smiled at him after he pulled back. Her cheeks were a little pink and she cleared her throat. “Tomorrow, you have to tell me more about your world.”

Jaskier shrugged. “I warn you, it’s kinda boring.”

“Ha! If a world where you can capture a performance for thousands of people is boring, then I can’t imagine what you find interesting about here.”

“Are you kidding? You have monsters! And magic! Real, actual magic! That’s the coolest thing ever!” He shook his head. “I guess, compared to that, all the technology of my world seems like nothing.”

Madeline laughed. “Most of the magic I’ve seen hasn’t been all that impressive, honestly. Usually just little tricks and illusions. Maybe cures and tinctures for what ails you. But that’s pretty much it.”

“Pshaw,” Jaskier flapped his hand, waving the idea away. “That just makes it more mysterious and more interesting!” His stomach gurgled and he remembered that they hadn’t had dinner. “Well, I’d better get going. See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Madeline nodded.

Jaskier opened the wardrobe and crawled back through, wishing the passageway to the Continent was a little bigger. He fell out on the other side, where the door was still hanging crookedly off its hinges. “Il’ll have to fix that,” he told him, scrambling to his feet and heading back to the kitchen. He made sure to note exactly where the wardrobe was, so he wouldn’t have any trouble finding it again.

His family was in the family room, in exactly the positions he’d left them in. “Sorry I missed dinner,” he said. “Still some left?”

His mother gave him a concerned look and started walking toward him. “Honey, it’s barely past lunchtime. Are you feeling all right?”

But that couldn’t be right. He’d gone exploring right after lunch, and found the wardrobe not too long after that. He and Madeline had hung out all evening – it had been dark there! Jaskier rushed over to a window and pulled back a curtain. The bright sunlight burned his eyes and he flinched back, dropping the curtain back into place.

It definitely wasn’t night here. Not only were the seasons different on the Continent, but time must pass differently too! “So cool,” he breathed.

“Julian, really, I’m worried about you. What happened?” His mother reached out to touch his face again and Jaskier ducked out of her way.

“I’m fine, mom, just hungry. I got caught up in a video and lost track of time is all.”

“Hhmph.” From his wingback chair, his father gave him a disapproving look. “You should always keep track of your work hours, Julian. A good businessman must always account for his time and demand a fair wage –”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Dad,” Jaskier kissed his mother’s cheek and brushed past her to the kitchen. He was famished!

As he prepared himself a quick meal, he contemplated what this meant. Did time just move slower in his world? Or was it something more complicated? Could he calculate exactly how much time passed in each one?

If he went back now, how much time would have passed for Madeline? He bit into his sandwich and wandered back towards the wardrobe. If it was only a few hours after lunch here, and he’d been with Madeline for most of a day, then it would probably still be night for her.

Jaskier paced in front of the wardrobe. He should let his new friend get some sleep. People were always telling him that he was too clingy. He should let Madeline have her space.

But also, only a few hours had passed! What was he supposed to do for the rest of the day? There was a magical world waiting before him.

Maybe he’d go and ask Madeline if she wanted to go exploring. If not, he would just go on his own, as long as she let him back in to get home.

Decided, he nodded to himself. “I just want to explore. It’s not clinging.” He pushed aside the clothes he’d hidden the passageway behind and started crawling through. Only this time, he didn’t come out in Madeline’s castle. Actually, he wasn’t in a castle at all. Or inside. He stumbled to his feet and looked around. The wardrobe he’d come out through was leaning against the side of a hut, next to the firewood. No one was around, which was fortunate in that no one had seen him, but unfortunate in that he had no idea where he was. Also, it was dark as hell outside. Jaskier squinted into the night, but when he couldn’t even tell where the road was, he was forced to admit that it would be best if he just went back through the wardrobe.

At least that was a mystery he could investigate! Why was he coming out in different places? Jaskier climbed back through and tumbled to the floor in the castle. He should really get some pillows, cushion his fall.

Actually, at the thought of pillows, his eyelids felt heavy and he was reminded that just because it had only been a few hours in his world, he’d lived through the rest of the afternoon.

Well, if time passed slower on the Continent, it was probably best to sleep now and hope that enough time will have passed when he woke. But first, he needed to make sure he could get back to Madeline.

“Okay,” he said aloud. Even though his audience was inanimate, Jaskier had always found it easier to think things through aloud. If that meant he talked to much, then that was just too bad for other people. “You gotta be able to get me back to Madeline, okay? She seems super cool – I mean, she threatened me with a poker! An actual fire poker! It was so cool!” He could feel drool gathering at the corner of his lips and wiped it away quickly. It totally wasn’t weird to find that attractive. He just liked strong people.

Strong, threatening people.

Jaskier shook himself. “Okay, let’s check that we can see Madeline again.” He parted the clothes again, even though it was silly to have covered the passageway. It had just seemed right at the time. He wiggled his way through and found himself in the cold stone passageway of Madeline’s castle again. He sighed deeply in relief.

But, considering the only reason he could tell where he was was because of the candle lighting the otherwise dark room, it was still night. Jaskier turned around and wiggled back through, shuffling the hangers in front of the passage again. He should also see about repairing that door after he slept. How did you even do that?

He headed to his room for a nap, even if his mother looked concerned over him taking an afternoon siesta. “We’re supposed to be on vacation, right? So if I’m tired, I may as well sleep,” he’d told her, and she had relented.

Even though he was definitely going to wake up at some absurd hour of the night and be bored again, Jaskier fell asleep with a smile on his face. It wasn’t every day that you found a whole new world and a kickass new friend to boot. He was almost afraid to shut his eyes in case it would all turn out to be a dream, but his exhaustion gradually dragged him under.

Next Chapter

#my fics #that wild blue yonder #istg this is turning into something big #jaskier #the witcher #geraskier #geraskefer #eventually

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maonoka · 5 years

Text

“Time Slip”, a ‘MAO’ au

Sooo.... I had this dream... well, a couple dreams, that basically revolved around Heian-era Mao being the soft young man he is, and feisty Nanoka coming along and turning his world upside down. Turned out that scenario became an angsty semi-au, and this fic was born. I don’t plan on leaving it a oneshot - I would love to write more for this. It pains me, cuz it’s gonna get complicated, but I wanna continue this.

Series: MAO

Ratings: T

Pairings: eventual Mao/Nanoka (slooow-buuuuurn)

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Nanoka shivered, rubbing her bare arms and wishing she’d brought a cardigan with her uniform. It hadn’t been too cold in the modern era, but the moment she’d passed through the gate… well, the sudden burst of panic she'd felt at seeing the other side had left all practical thoughts behind. It was only early October back home, but the air here in the Taisho era was bitter cold. At least… she assumed it was still the Taisho era. Where once had been the rubble of Gougyou town was now empty, desolate farmland. Simple shacks and huts stood next to the gate, which had become a looming red shrine.

Fear had seized her, and at once she took off with a yell. “MAO!” Her white sneakers threw clouds of dust into the dry air as she hurried down the village’s dirt road. “Mao! Otoya!” Nanoka’s blood burned, her skin prickling as she felt her adrenaline pick up. The change was coming, and she welcomed it. Rice paddies and rows of crops sped by as wind whistled in her ears; the cold air didn’t bother her anymore, instead pushing her to run faster and further in her search for her friends. They had to be here. She wouldn’t accept that they weren’t! Whatever had happened to the gate, wherever it had taken her, she wouldn’t let it take them away.

Suddenly the crisp air became tinged with smoke, and Nanoka stumbled to a halt as she caught the smell of incense: this was no peasants fire. Hope bubbled up inside her, hope that perhaps her Onmyouji friend was working some spell to get this place back to normal, to make the gate work like it was supposed to… maybe even to find her. She took off at a steady pace, following the scent with her curse-enhanced senses, veering off the dirt road into thick trees speckled orange and red.

The sun traveled behind clouds high above her, but even behind its harsh white cover, she could tell it would be setting soon. She wished she had her phone, or even the clock on Mao’s clinic wall to tell her the time – but her bag had been dropped at the gate entrance, and the clinic and everything in it vanished. Wherever she was, she didn’t like the idea of being here after dark. Nanoka pressed forward, until the trees began to thin, and new forms began to rise above them: buildings. There were rooftops beyond the farthest trees. Old-fashioned, slanted wooden rafters in a classical mansion style. The closer Nanoka got, the more awed she felt. It was like seeing a samurai castle in its glory days, or stepping into the Tale of Genji. The smell of incense became more powerful, almost overwhelming, and Nanoka slowed her approach.

If this really was a mansion, then whoever maintained it should be able to tell her more about where she was and what had happened to Gougyou town. And if Mao was really the source of the smoke as she hoped… she’d have a thing or two to say to him, and then she’d probably have an embarrassing break down.

Nanoka followed the tendrils of white smoke through the trees surrounding the mansion complex; it spread out in all directions so that she could never really see the edge. But here someone had found the edge after all, and Nanoka crept forward until she spotted a figure seated on the ground outside the building compound, surrounded by candles, ropes, paper, and symbols drawn in the dirt. It was a young man, his broad shoulders stiff and straight and soft voice murmuring over the thin candles in the ground. He wore blue robes in the old Heian style… Nanoka pondered that they looked like the ones Mao had worn when he’d fought the flea-demon-nuns. This man wore his hair similar to Mao’s as well: a long ponytail at his nape – only his hair was jet black and tidy in comparison to the ragged doctor.

She continued to watch in silent fascination as the mysterious man worked various incantations over the materials he’d brought, winding the rope and folding the paper, until Nanoka began to realize he was only making simple wards. From all the smoke and magic she’d thought this would be some grand, miraculous summoning – but this was nothing more than a priest making good luck charms to keep away evil spirits. Nanoka couldn’t help it: she laughed. And suddenly the young man turned around.

The gasp that tore from her throat was painful. All that running in the cold autumn air had been fine – refreshing even! Seeing Mao’s eyes, so bright and young and free of the pain almost a thousand years had inflicted, staring back at her from a face free of scars knocked the wind from her lungs. It was him: unmistakably, undeniably, and yet… it wasn’t. This wasn’t the Mao she had met in the Taisho era as she ran from a giant Mantis, this wasn’t the Mao who had patched up her arm and told her she was an ayakashi. This wasn’t the Mao who had put blood on her cheek and sent crazed demon nuns after her, who had transformed into a beast before her very eyes… who had tried to save her child self, had sent a shikigami to protect her in the future, had asked her to stay with him, even if it was just as an assistant….

Mao continued to watch her shadowed form warily through the trees, and Nanoka swallowed hard. If her guess was correct, this Mao wouldn’t do any of that for another 900 years.

“What are you doing here, Ayakashi?”

She startled. Somewhere in her musings, she’d forgotten that this Mao was still a living, breathing human and not some phantom of the past. “Uh…” she’d also forgotten about the transformation brought by Byouki’s blood… and about Mao’s exorcist duties as an Onmyouji. She was in trouble now. “Look, I’m… I’m not really an ayakashi, okay?” she began, stepping out from the shadowy trees and clutching a hand to her chest. “I’m just a human who got cursed, and… uh…. Excuse me?”

Her explanation ground to a halt as this Heian-era Mao did something Nanoka had never seen her Mao do: he looked her up and down… and blushed a bright pink. Mao turned away slightly, a voluminous sleeve coming up to block his view of her, and a somewhat rushed version of his usual calm voice rang out “Forgive me, miss. I did not realize your state of undress. If you will wait here, I can fetch you something from the mansion. I… apologize, you must be cold as well. You should have a hot drink, as well as a meal.”

Nanoka stood motionless, unable to believe either her ears at his flustered tone or her eyes at his flushed face. The Mao she knew would never have reacted to her uniform like this or shown such concern for her being in a short skirt out in the cold. ‘Of course’, she thought sullenly, ‘I don’t actually know this Mao, do I? I guess a person really changes over 900 years. He’s acting more like Shiraha-kun would than an experienced doctor.’

Mao lowered his arm but refused to look at her, bending instead to gather his materials in preparation to leave. She hoped it would be to find food and clothing for her, but she had to remind herself they’d only met moments ago – he didn’t know her, and she was starting to think she might know him even less. Her mind grappled for something to hold onto, something to tie them together in this foreign place, and she said suddenly “I’m not feeling well.”

He paused in the motion of dousing the incense in the dirt, and very cautiously rose to look back at her. Nanoka gripped the hem of her skirt, biting her lip to hide a smile. That was an expression she recognized: the concern of a doctor for an ailing patient. “It’s this curse I have. Is there anyone here who could help me?”

He stared at her, his brown eyes searching and intense, but after a moment his shoulders slumped and he admitted “This place is not very welcoming of outsiders. I’m afraid you wouldn’t find much help. You see, it’s training grounds for Onmyouji. Demons, ayakashi… they’re not exactly welcome here unless it’s for target practice.” Nanoka saw the slight turn of his lip, and smiled, glad to see his dry humor had always been part of him. “Of course, the way of onmyoudo does include healing arts… it’s not practiced nearly enough as curses. A shame if you ask me.” He turned his head as if this was nothing more than a mild annoyance to him, but Nanoka was starting to see beyond the innocence of this younger Mao. She was starting to recognize a familiar soul, and that soul was crying to help others, not to hurt.

“But then…” she began tentatively, drawing his attention back to her and noticing amusedly how his eyes wandered to her bare legs, “you’ve been trained in those healing… whatever arts, right? You could help me, couldn’t you?” She could tell he was struggling not to respond ‘yes’ all at once, still torn by some code or rule to leave her stranded. Nanoka knew what would happen though, now that she’d said she needed the help. She’d seen it with clients who came to ‘Doctor Mao’ with everything from stomach bugs to murderous masters; this was part of who he was.

It was no surprise to her when he said softly “Yes, of course, I’ll help you the best I can. I warn you, I’m still in training, but there’s always somewhere to start. At the very least, you can warm up from this weather, Miss…”

“Nanoka” she replied quickly, taken aback by the gentleness in his voice and the fall of black bangs over his eyes. Perhaps it was the cold finally affecting her, but her cheeks were starting to feel warm, and her heart was beating fast.

“Nanoka-san” he replied with a slight bow. “I am Mao. It might be… a little improper, but you’re welcome to stay with me for a while, until I’ve had a chance to study your curse and perhaps find a cure for you. It’s dangerous for a human to be mistaken for a demon in these days.”

She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as he said her name in that familiar voice, those words ‘stay with me’ echoing as though from a past life. ‘This is the past life’ she told herself harshly. ‘You can’t get involved here! This could ruin everything!’ Her thoughts abruptly shut off as Mao put down his tools and undid his blue suikan, draping it around Nanoka’s shoulders and folding it about her with some explanation about warmth that was lost amidst the drumming blood in her ears.

The last coherent thought she had as she followed Mao through the dim twilight, watching the cream-colored robes on his back as the two of them wove carefully around buildings to his room, was a sharp and panicked ‘I’m screwed.’

#mao manga #rumic world #maonoka #mao fanfiction #rumic fanfiction

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