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the19thduckpotato · 4 years

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Blood of the Father (early Dad Might ficlet)

Disclaimer: we played fast and loose with the medical side of this story so please just focus on the Dad Might. XD

Trigger warning for blood and injury.

As always, all the fondest gratitude to @my-favorite-aesthetics

Now then, on with the story! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Plit...plit...plit... As Toshinori stumbled into his office, his blood dripped down in a ghastly trail behind him. He was quick to shut the door then hobbled to his desk. The bottom left drawer held bandages,, the bottom right cleaning supplies. He pressed his hand against his side with a grimace, fumbling out paper towels and cleaning solution. Leaving the drawer open, he awkwardly wiped the tile floor, soaking up the crimson spots.

"...and your office will of course have luxurious carpet in whatever color you choose," Principal Nezu had chirped. "Tile," Toshinori had quietly but firmly replied. "Hmm? But why?" "I imagine I may be called upon even while I teach here. And it's imperative that no one know my secret, sir." "Well of course, but how would carpet--" The tall blond had burst into a sudden fit of coughing at that moment. Embarrassed, he had fought to regain control then held his blood speckled hand out. "Tile can be washed" he explained, eyes elsewhere. "Carpet stains." The principal had regarded Toshinori with his bright beady eyes then nodded. "Oh I quite understand!" he replied amicably.

A few moments later, he was at his desk and glanced back to make sure he got all the spots Toshi swore darkly. The trail was still there, thicker and darker. Idiot, he scolded himself. In such a hurry, I didn't think. He quickly dug into the left drawer now, his internal anxiety clock ticking loudly. Sure that any moment, someone would burst through the door. Hurry hurry hurry!

Izuku's footsteps were loud in the silent hallway as he headed to All Might's office as he did every day after school. Sometimes Toshi was there, sometimes he wasn't, but he was okay with Izuku waiting for him and doing some homework. Then they would usually work side-by-side, Toshi on paperwork, Izuku on more homework, the only sounds turning pages and the clicking keyboard. Unless I take a nap... can I afford the time? Will he let me? Well, he's never objected... I've never asked, strictly speaking, but. He shifted the backpack on his shoulders. I can at least take my shoes and jacket off, that'll be nice. He smiled softly, glad to have a place to be so comfortable and casual in. As he approached Toshi's office, he heard the small clicking and thumping of someone interacting with the desk in there. Oh, good, he's in. He tapped on the door, opening it a crack. "Hi..."

Toshinori froze guiltily as he heard the tap, watched the door begin to swing open. Nononono shi--!! Then heard the voice and relaxed fractionally. At least the kid already knows my secret. But he doesn't need to see me like this. He grabbed at the bandage roll, hoping to cover his wounds before Midoriya saw them... then groaned as he lost his hold on it. The roll seemed to almost gleefully bounce off the desk and tumble toward the boy at the door, unraveling like mad.

Izuku froze, eyes wide, heart spiking in his chest. Then... "...Dang. What happened to you?" He opened the door all the way, picking up what was left of the bandage roll and walking over to the desk, trying to keep his voice casual. I'm probably succeeding... don't overact it... or just don't be worried, I'm sure this happens a lot. Keep yourself a pleasant presence, yes....

Don't freak the kid out. He may know your secret but let's not ruin his idea of heroes for now. "Runaway Quirk," he explained, accepting the limp bundle that had been a tightly wound bandage roll. "This poor woman had something like massive porcupine quills. She was having a bad day and I tried my best to help her." His upper left arm was sliced in several spots, his right forearm a bit as well. His dress shirt was understandably in tatters, barely hiding the puncture wound on his right side. "Easily fixed. Was just trying when you showed up."

Izuku winced sympathetically, hissing through his teeth. "Ooh. Yeah, that stinks. Can I help at all?"

Don't show weakness. Toshinori sat up stiffly, grinning. "Nah, I should be fine!" He attempted to wrap his upper arm in the bandages, grimacing in pain and growling in soft frustration as the bandage thwarted his attempts to control it.

"..." Aahh... "...Are...you sure?" Izuku's voice sounded somewhere between concerned and puzzled. Surely he can't be serious... does he dislike my help for some reason? Does he not think I can do it? "I know how to wrap a bandage, it's okay..." He tilted his head, eyebrows wrinkling.

Toshinori fought with the bandage a moment longer as what he had managed to wrap was already staining red. "I don't want to trouble you," he replied. "This is noth--" He hissed sharply through his teeth as his wounds began to painfully throb in immediate disagreement.

"...Forgive me, but I think I'll be more distressed if I walk away," Izuku pointed out matter-of-factly.

Toshi's head began to ache in tandem with his wounds. "Perhaps," he said with some difficulty, clutching his side, "you're right. Some medical practice. A grand idea. All right, come here." He gestured toward the bottom left drawer before wincing again.

Izuku knelt on one knee, opening the drawer. His movements became softer and more fluid in response to Toshi's strained voice. He looked up attentively, waiting for the next instruction.

"Antiseptic," he wheezed. "Some thicker bandaging material." He began to realize the steps he had skipped in his wasted haste. "I'll need you to...ah..." He looked guiltily at Izuku, the dark circles under his eyes very evident. "This could get unpleasant. Are you sure?"

Izuku’s eyes were soft, but expressionless, as was his voice. He nodded once. “I’m sure.”

Toshi gazed at the boy for a moment and felt something stir within his chest. Gratitude? Pride in this boy? Sudden determination to be as brave as young Midoriya was being at the moment? Kid.... He opened his mouth to say something then shook his head, ears pinking. "All right. I'll need you to pour some of that antiseptic on that cloth and press it against these slashes on my upper arm. I might get...ah...loud..."

Izuku’s jaw tightened for a moment, but he hoped it wasn’t noticeable. “Alright,” he nodded again, putting the antiseptic on the cloth as requested, then standing, ready to put it on. He paused, asking, “...Do you need anything to bite on? I usually use my sleeve, but...” he motioned to Toshi’s ragged business-shirt sleeve. “Well, that’s not gonna work.”

Toshi seemed to only half hear him, resigning himself to being about to destroy his fan's image of him. "Hmm? No no, nothing like that. I promise you, if it were that bad I would be visiting Recovery Girl." He rolled back the tatters of his sleeve and took a deep breath. "Whenever you're ready."

"Well-- if you're sure... do you want a countdown or not?" No, wait, I shouldn't have said that, that's one sentence too many, don't keep him waiting-- but I can't DO it now, that'd be rude...

Toshi regarded his student with a gentle smile. "That's thoughtful of you. But no," he added, tensing up once more. "Let's go ahead and power through this, what do you say?"

"Alright." He put the cloth on, being as gentle as he could.

Toshi's reaction was immediate. His back arched rigidly and he bared his teeth in a dangerous scowl. His eyes squeezed shut as cords stood out on his neck. Don't scream, it'll freak the kid out, don't scream don't don't don't

"I'm sorry," Izuku whispered quietly. I know it hurts a lot.

Tears stood in his eyes as he tried to smile. "No, I'm sorry for making you do this," he rasped out. "You don't have to continue if you don't want to."

You don't have to smile. "I don't want to stop." He kept it on the wound a moment longer, counting to ten in his head, then took it off. "That's good, right?"

Toshi's muscles untensed as he smiled for real. Kid....! "Yeah," he replied in a somewhat strained voice. "Yeah, that's true."

"Oh you mean the--" Toshi peeked at the bandage and grimaced at the amount it had soaked up. "--uh, yeah, yeah, you're doing great. Just a few more spots to get." Haven't even checked my back yet.

"Okay. Where next?"

"Up to you, really. Plenty to choose from, heheheh--ow."

Izuku winced in commiseration again. "You got any pain relievers anywhere?"

Toshi's eyes grew wide. "Oh YEAH!" He almost slapped his own forehead... if it wasn't for the headache he'd surely give himself doing so. "Dig in that drawer some more for me, please."

"Sure!" He crouched down again, rummaging about, looking for bottles. He held one up. "This one?"

Pain-bright eyes squinted at the bottle and Toshi nodded. "That's the one. Thank you, young Mi--" Weak. Torino's voice. Toshi tried not to squirm.

Izuku read the instructions on the bottle and shook out a pill, holding it out to Toshi. "You need water?"

Can't even sort out your own medicine let alone bandage yourself. ...stop... Toshi rubbed his aching head, trying to listen to his student. Some great hero, tcha! You shouldn't even need medicine. If you had taken care of One for All like you were supposed to-- Stop. Young Midoriya asked him something but Toshi couldn't hear him over the relentless Torino gremlin running amok in his head now. --then you wouldn't even need help. Back in my day--your MASTER'S day--we were actually made of sterner stuff. But here you are, whimpering like some lost abandoned puppy with a thorn in its paw. Shaming every hero that came before you, shaming your Master-- "I said STOP!"

Izuku froze, shrunk against the desk, eyes wide. N-no you didn't!! What did I do wrong?? I'm sorry!!

Toshi looked up, his heart freezing as he realized he said the last aloud. Your fault. His breathing was ragged, his eyes remorseful. "Forgive me," he mumbled. "That was not directed at you, I swear."

Izuku's face morphed to concern, though his body stayed frozen. "Then-- who..."

And now he thinks you're crazy. Perfect. Just keep digging that hole, junior. Toshi stared at his hands miserably, wanting to talk but not wishing to burden so young a face with such adult problems. "...water, please," he whispered, hating himself for shutting Izuku out.

"...Okay...." Izuku placed the pill in Toshi's hand carefully, making sure his hand was gentle when it brushed against the large, shaking one. Standing up from where he crouched, he set his backpack on a mostly-clear part of the desk, pulling out a partially-empty sports bottle and holding it out. "Is this good? I can go and get a cup from the break room if no."

"This is perfect," Toshi replied, really meaning it.

"Okay." Izuku smiled softly, more in his eyes and voice than his mouth.

Coddled by a child. Toshi placed the pill in his mouth and sipped water. ...and what is wrong with feeling cared for? The Torino voice fell silent at that.

"You're still bleeding," Izuku half-whispered. "That's a lot of blood gone so far, are you sure you shouldn't be worried?"

Toshinori's face crinkled pleasantly. "Kind of goes with the job," he confessed. "I uh... can you ah..." His ears blushed red now.

"Yeah?" He tilted his head. ...Keep going? Do something else? Oh dear, I should hurry... he's still bleeding, that's bad....

"I haven't really looked at my back. Could you ah..." I need a new shirt. He pulled out more bandages and poured antiseptic on them. "...check it for me while I get my arm here, please?"

"Yeah, I can." Izuku moved around to the back of the chair. "How did she get your back, anyway?"

"She was like that one blue character in your video games--the speedy hedgehog? Mach? ...anyway, she was moving kind of like that and I was shielding some bystanders."

Izuku blinked. "Ma--Sonic, but yeah." Didn't they have Sonic when you were a kid?? "--Oompf, yeah. That must have been really hard." Did you not get to play video games? ...Aaww, that's sad.... Right away, he noticed a large patch of blood staining a mostly-intact patch of shirt on Toshi's shoulder. "Okay yeah, there's definitely something there... I can't really get a look at it, though." He took a look at the rest of the ruined garment. "Your shirt is... pretty much done for, though..." He grimaced. "Do you think I should cut it instead of you taking it off?"

Toshi gave an embarrassed smile. "Maybe. I'm sure me trying to take it off would prove both futile and possibly pull some muscles I shouldn't be moving at the moment. Ah, scissors are in the other drawer."

Izuku nodded (which Toshi couldn’t see) and moved to poke in the other drawer.

Toshi bit his lip. The kid might have to dig some bits out, too. That's asking a lot, even from someone as devoted as him.

Izuku pulled out the scissors, keeping them angled down and away from Toshi as he moved to the back of the chair again, then carefully and quickly snipping through the remnants of the bloodied shirt.

Toshi cringed and waited for the pull of shredded fabric from skin... completely unaware of the three inch piece of Quirk quill still embedded just below his shoulder blade, like some large splinter.

Izuku carefully snipped around it, leaving a small piece of fabric stuck with the quill in Toshi's back, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"How is it back there?" A tiny snort of a giggle--oh no a pun ee hee!--quickly dissolved as he remembered he needed to remain professional. Also, laughing hurt. ...but it was a nice pun. Maybe--does young Midoriya like puns?

"...nnh." Izuku let his head thunk onto the headrest of the chair. A muffled snort escaped.

Toshi heard the groan and began to apologize for the words...when he heard the snort. Turning his head carefully, he looked to Izuku with faintly impish eyes. "You caught that, huh?"

“I did.”

A smile was threatening to sneak out. "....my apologies, I kinda like wordplay. Must be a hero thing," he explained quickly. "The quippy one liners and all. Yeah!"

“I’ve noticed,” Izuku continued to snip, grinning. “And they’re all very funny...” he got stuck at the collar.

A warmth was flickering in Toshi's chest now, hopeful. "Y-yeah? ...oh hey, having trouble there? ....wait, what is THAT?" And he pointed the piece of fabric still lodged below his shoulderblade.

"...Ahm."

One eyebrow rose, the other scrunched down. "Ahm?"

"That's a piece I couldn't get out. That, if her quills work like porcupine quills, I probably can't get out." His voice softened regretfully. "...All Might..."

Toshi's breath caught sharply in his throat, not at this new information but at the tone the boy used saying his name. It sounded...concerned? worried? scared?

Izuku's voice was so low and small it was almost a whisper. "I don't... think I can do this properly. You've lost a lot of blood, n... I've never taken care of anything this serious before. Do you think...."

You IDIOT. The Torino voice was back. "Oh my boy, please forgive me. I foolishly thought that I--" Admitting you screwed up? Toshi's gaze dropped. "Let me call Recovery Girl. Could you....could you stay with me?"

"Of course..." His hand curled carefully around an unhurt part of Toshi's arm. "I'm sorry. Believe me, I would have avoided her too if I could," he said with a small, lopsided smile.

"Don't get the wrong idea," Toshi replied firmly. "If you are hurt like this--though I pray it won't happen often--please, please seek medical help as soon as possible." He looked guiltily at his stained shirt tatters. "I came here because I thought I could-- I mean, because her office is much farther than mine. And people would have worried." And discovered my secret. "I don't want that."

"Yeah, I would. I don't think I could move much in the position you're in." He grimaced, finally managing to get through the shirt collar. "...Though to be fair, I think people would worry more if they saw you with infected old wounds... of course, I'm sure you didn't know how bad it was, given your surprise at... that." He gestured towards the quill, gently moving the shirt and discovering an entirely new form of panic. "...Ah."

"You keep making new noises that I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with," Toshi teased. "What is ah?"

"Sorry. Uhm." Izuku looked a bit like a nervous frog, his voice squeaky. "I maaaaay have uhhmmmmm snippedatinybitofyourhairimsorry"

Toshi b l i n k e d. Very. S l o w l y. "HERE, EAT THIS!" "Ah," he replied in the same tone young Midoriya used, unsure how to respond to this new information amid all the rest.

"It's just a tiny bit, I promise! You can't even notice, it's just..." he gently brushed at the little snippings of Toshi's dandelion floof. "There's, ahm. Bits."

"Bits," Toshi squeaked. Did he shiver just now as the kid brushed the newly snipped bits? Goosebumps speckled his arms and the warm feeling in his chest grew a bit more. I'm torn up, losing blood, getting a haircut while having a spine imbedded in me....and yet I'm ok with this. ....??????

"You can't even tell, really... it's just-- I don't want it to get into the wounds... a-and of course it's your hair, I didn't mean to obviously but--"

Toshi snorted. Then giggled. The giggles became laughter. And though it hurt, the laughter grew louder.

"aaAaAaaAA"

Toshi jumped at that, then winced in pain. "Good or bad?" he gasped.

"--Huh? ...Oh. Sorry. I was just still freaking out that I cut your hair."

"Oh right!" Toshi snorted again and then winced again. "Doncha worry, my power doesn't leak out of my hair! That was a one time thing."

"...Oh. That's good." Didn't even think of that....

Even so, Toshi tried to peek at the golden snippets. "Oh right, I was calling Recovery Girl."

Izuku nodded. "I think it's safest, yes. I don't think I could pull that spine out without... well." He made a face. "Doing a lot of damage I'd rather not describe." He looked at the chair. And the floor. And his hands. "Also, you're bleeding Everywhere. And I'm not sure you can keep that up for long."

Toshi made a moue of distaste, glancing about the room. "Hrhm. True." Is it bad that I'm super curious to see the spine? How did I not even notice--wait. ow. OW. Oh there it is. O W. frack. He held up one of his few unstained fingers to silence Izuku as he called the nurse's office.

Izuku nodded, placing the slightly sticky scissors on the desk. He watched Toshi make the call, wondering if there was anywhere he was supposed to be applying pressure until medical assistance got there.

((TBC))

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #ducky writes #fluffy writes #dadmight #all might #toshinori #sunflower dad #izuku #midoriya #deku #broccoli son #fanfic #blood of the father

66 notes · View notes

mego42 · 4 years

Text

Shamelessly stealing @foxmagpie’s monthly rec thing without the ability to get my life together to do these on a monthly basis so, seasonal recs! So excited to see if I manage to do this again with anything remotely resembling consistency but i’ve been keeping the notes for approximately 43 years (or since ~september, whatever that means) so by god i’m gonna use them.

found my thrill - s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe

Turner POV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

guys turner is SO OBSESSED with Beth and Rio

both canonically and in this fic

it’s gr9

also features a weirdly soothing and relatable cord untangling moment as a metaphor

truly disturbingly relatable turner pov tbh

relentless boomer disdain, always a plus

led to the creation of this monstrosity, not sure what kind of a monster would do that

War In My Mind - mintletters16

Backread!!!!

post-213, gorgeous character study

guaranteed to make you feEl stUfF

I really love the like, cyclical, fractured pattern of Beth’s internal monologue, it gives the whole thing a really affecting at times dreamy, at times haunted vibe

the end twist is *chef’s kiss*

mourning bells - Ejunkiet / @ejunkiet

Backread!!!!

Later s2 era, Rio’s at a funeral, gets drunk and calls Beth

V short, kind of…..mmm, not sweet, but almost? Idk

It’s got a wistful sort of almost/i can be quiet with you vibe that i go extremely bonkers for

delinquents - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie

Lol are any of you actually not reading this yet?

g o d ch 8 where do i start

First off how ABSOLUTELY VERY DARE for the tragic angst that is delinquents!beth boland. This poor baby, this precious bean. MUST PROTEC

SHE’S TRYING HER BEST AND I LOVE HER

zero percent deserves dean’s clammy hands, no i have not forgotten, tattooed on my brain, will never forgive

I also love love love love LOVE the ruby/stan subplot happening

(and ruby’s mom!!!!!) (seriously though you write the best moms)

oh god and baby beth starting to have confusing feelings about rio?????? *chef’s kiss*

p sure i was just like, straight screaming the entire end of the chapter

the dugout is like, pure serotonin

I can’t even talk about the closet

tHe teNsiOn

thank you i will take eleventy billion

don't give it a hand, offer it a soul - medievalraven / @medievalraven

am a desperate heaux for any fic that features rio and mick friendship

you are all incredibly shocked i know

still would not be mad if this swerved into rio x mick fake dating but beth x rio is cool too i guess

Speaking of things i am a desperate heaux for: DIANE!!!!!!!!

and DATING ANNIE???????????? Blessed

honestly this fic is worth it purely for the assertion that mick watches queer eye

Why don't we go to Venus? - watermelonriddles / @bensonstablers

another grief study!

apparently i was working through some stuff in september, idk, that was like 4 years ago

considering it’s the premise of the fic, i don’t think it’s a spoiler to say this fic is canon divergent and working with the premise that rio killed beth in 302

he is uh, not coping well

extremely haunted you might say

lots of marcus and rhea which is a delight!

rhea is to good for him tbh

i said what i said

truly top notch dream (nightmare?) sequences

the conversation at the end is extremely uncalled for

drop the game - Ejunkiet / @ejunkiet

Backread!!!!

Am going to die mad Beth and Rio didn’t hook up in 211 but luckily this fic scratched the itch

(temporarily, it’s a fairly permanent itch)

Bonus rec: missing scene series i wanna do bad things to you featuring 2x02 and 2x04

Viva Voce - zetuslapetus / @querenaxx

Whoops we woke up married Vegas shenanigans!!

So cute!!!!! So sexy!!!!!

What more do you want?

am desperately obsessed with how beth can’t help stalking rio

feels right, feels organic

this makes me feel a lot of stuff about how they could be without their canon garbage between them

🎶 we could’ve had it aaaaaaaaaaall 🎶

you showed me colors (i can't see them with anyone else) - gild_fire / @gild-and-fire

really into the use of color to illustrate beth’s emotional state, i feel like there’s a word for that but idk what it is

UNIMPORTANT

really nice job capturing beth’s inner vulnerability balanced by her outer stubbornness

am DESPERATELY into Mick playing matchmaker

more please???????

Both Sides of the Law - JoeyLee / @joeyjoeylee

LAW SCHOOL AU! I suuuuuuper love Beth and Rio here (alt pov!! a gift!!!!) I love how initially prickly they are, I love how it’s evolving into a grudging respect, I love how INCREDIBLY AND HILARIOUSLY OBSESSED WITH EACH OTHER THEY ARE and neither one of them seems to see it

listen I know we’re all already foaming at the mouth over this one but as it’s gonna go down as one of my all time favorites it bears repeating/rereccing

cannot stress enough how masterful the use of POV is here, both voices feel completely true and distinct and I love how the alternating chapters revisit, reveal and emphasize pieces of each other

i can’t talk about this fic without hyperventilating

I LOVE IT SO MUCH YOU GUYS

the slow burn is going to ACTUALLY KILL ME

rip, no regrats

Earned It - wakeupflawless / @wakeupflawless

spanking

that’s it that’s the pitch

H O T

living for beth’s exit in the first chapter, rio and i are both incredibly into it

second chapter also features violently possessive Rio who cannot deal with anyone messing with his girl so if that’s your thing boy howdy get on it

shake, baby, shake - openhearts

backread!!!!!

according to my bookmarks this was a reread but ???????

must’ve read it in the fugue state that followed reading for a moment we were strangers which is gr9 and I believe I have recced it before. If not, horrible oversight, reccing it now

beth and Rio POV lead up to the bathroom break, beautifully done, low-key feel bad reccing it bc the end point of both chapters makes me want to throw things but it’s super worth it for the tEnsiOn. ENJOY

What the Sea Wants, the Sea Will Have - flashindie / @pynkhues

I’m assuming all of y’all are already reading this

If not OH MY GOD FIX YOUR LIVES

P I R A T E A U

I’m sorry maybe you didn’t hear me piRaTE aU

meticulously researched, brain-meltingly vibrant, already painfully sexy slow-burning PIRATE AU

god where to start okay so first off, the world-building here straight up breaks my brain, sophie’s put in the work and it SHOWS

second, the atmosphere. i’m generally a pretty like, vague mental picture sort of reader but the sensory detail here grabs you by the throat and like, forcibly hauls you in whether your brain’s wired that way or no

and hey speaking of throats if you, like me, go a little funny about the knees at the idea of beth holding a knife to rio’s throat (he’s fine, calm down), there’s a v excellent beth-in-a-barrel moment for you

oh christ and the sexy tension

it’s gonna be a race to see which slow burn takes me out first, this or law school

Stunner - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie

Another high school AU, this time with baby Rio absolutely head over heels for his older sister’s bff

stunner!Rio has an emotional earnestness about him that I feel like delinquents!Rio has already outgrown and it’s so SWEET I can’t get enough

Desperately cute!!!!!!

alL he waNts iS foR beTh tO bE hiS girL

also unreasonably angsty???????

ANN ARBOR IS NOT THAT FAR MEGAN

A Heart's A Heavy Burden - tooshyforthis / @bathroombreaks

Howl’s Moving Castle AU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love Howl’s!!!!!!!!!!!

perfect opp to roast Rio for being a Dramatique Heaux

and it’s gonna be 9 chapters?????? H Y P E

author’s note boldly presumes I did not know I needed this AU when the reality is I did in fact know I needed this AU, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to deliver

so blessed

author also claims to not be team nose stud and yet it features prominently in all its magnificent glory

what is the truth dot gif

A Bit of a Stretch - septiembre / @septiembur

SO????? CUTE?????????

would be on this list for Rio calling Beth E alone tbh

really really really really really love this Rio POV of being settled into a relationship with Beth

It manages to be sweetly domestic af while still holding the edge that makes brio brio which is a neat trick

@septiembur may be a witch

beth’s approach to getting rio to do yoga with her is hilarious and exactly right, canon-typical amounts of subtlety

1000000/10

Post Break-Up Sex - femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs

stg this was called Hit Shuffle

no matter

h O T

with a side of damn i’ve made some questionable choices in my life haven’t i introspection

(no regrats tho)

(esp not with this fic)

not the point of the fic by a long shot but i’m also extremely obsessed with Weed Eddie, so real

She drains my soul... she drains it not - niham87 / @niham87

ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH THIS CONCEPT

am a complete sucker for paranormal world building that satirizes bureaucracy

Is that a trope? If so that’s my favorite

I did it. I’m picking a single favorite. You know what that is growth dot gif

ANYWAY i love the concept, i love the humor, i love beth instantly clicking with annie

I love her and mick’s sort of grudging professional courtesy

Love beth as a champion of environmental responsibility and all of the underworld being like …...okay??

cannot wait to see where this goes

Nine-Tenths - riosnecktattoo / @riosnecktattoo

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

sometimes i think about rio putting beth’s hair in a ponytail and have to go lie down

science please explain why this rUinS mE

wait hold on i skipped ahead

HEY KIDS DO YOU LIKE UNBEARABLY CUTE DOMESTIC TENDERNESS

opens with rio sleepily holding beth’s hand to his heart so that’s the kind of thing you’ll be dealing with

uGH theY’RE sO CUTe

idk why precisely but rio adding hair ties to his bracelet collection is my undoing every time

Missed Call - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie

Rio doesn’t come home from a job when he’s supposed to. Beth (and I!!!!!!!) slowly loses her mind

Truly a masterpiece of rising tension

Will literally never forgive her for calling this light angst

I was SO STRESSED OUT

The first person to point out there was an author’s note at the beginning I obvs didn’t read is getting blocked

crush - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie

Listen even though this is centered around two OCs, they are OCs FROM a (n iconic) brio fic AND Beth, Ruby and Rio all make cameos (I mean, Rio’s pretty present since he lives in Mar’s mind rent free bc they are THE SWEETEST MOST ADORABLE BEST OF FRIENDS so idk if i’d call it a cameo but whatever)

and even if it didn’t feature any official GG characters I’d still rec is bc that’s mY SON AND this fic is TOO CUTE

I have so many feelings over mar and rio growing up and not knowing how to cope with girls becoming a Thing in their life and how it affects their friendship and mar feeling left behind but (SPOILERS) at the end of the story rio starts feeling that too and it’s so poignant knowing how that’s going to continue in delinquents

while mar may be my son, i also claim elena’s #1 stan status

before you’re like meg you’re only reccing it bc it’s a bday present ask yourselves do i really strike you as the kind of person that wouldn’t be equally obnoxious about this either way?

truly cannot fathom how hard i have fallen for these OCs i don’t normally do that

@foxmagpie is definitely a witch

The Ottoman - Niham87 / @niham87

look i will be the first to admit that i don’t go near as bonkers over the ottoman line in 308 as y’all do

(don’t get me wrong, i love it!!! I love that he laughs and i love that she’s pleased it just doesn’t hit my lose my whole mind button like idk, the dubby or the 306 convo, idk why)

BUT i v v v much love the context this delightful Rio POV pwp gives it

am also absolutely feral for 209 missing scene fic

and anything that captures the complexity of Rio’s s3 feelings for Beth and how twisted they’ve become

so this scratches a bunch of itches, is what i’m trying to say

Bet On It - zetuslapetus / @querenaxx

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

That’s what my brain does when I think about Beth and Rio meeting in ch 1

am DESPERATELY OBSESSED WITH the tension between the two of them in this fic

I love how it plays with the ways they have to rely on but don’t trust each other

plus FAKE DATING and BED SHARING (fair warning hasn’t happened yet but the set up is there)

originally supposed to be 2 chapters, already up to 4, prayer circle it goes on forever

do you like drugs (tonight) - s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe

v important focus on hydration, other fic should take note

extremely about the use of cut to and then flashback to enhance the ‘we were on drugs’ vibe

speaking of, beth and rio absolutely would take ecstasy to prove they are fun bc they are the exact kind of idiots that would peer pressure themselves

so glad beth kept her purse, got a bit stressed there for a second, clutches in that kind of circumstance are A Risk

not that i would know

FLAWLESS USE OF VOICEMAIL TBH

really love the ongoing denial that they are remotely into each other while proceeding to demonstrate how they are in fact, extremely into each other, great vibe

rio dances

I know my brain broke too

mmmm bacon

Navigate A Broken Path - flashindie / @pynkhues

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

I have a long standing tradition of getting unreasonably obsessed with side characters so i’m not like, entirely surprised by how obsessed i am with both Mick and Mary Pat but i never in a million years considered them as a ship

AND Y E T

they fit????? so perfectly?????? It’s amazing how she developes them individually enough that i look at them together and think ah yes this makes perfect sense for both characters

and they’re such an amazing foil to Beth and Rio?

can ships have foils? do i know what a foil is?

unimportant

GUYS you dON’T uNDERStAN d

hell i don’t understand

how absolutely very dare you make me care about YET ANOTHER set of gg ‘verse children

do not read this fic if you have no interest in feelings you zero percent asked for

wHA t hAPPeNED iN aLASkA?????????

A Moment’s Silence - femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs

*makes sign of the cross*

y’all are gonna make me rediscover religion

extremely appreciate the author’s note approach to backstory top notch prioritization

listen it’s basically 3k of beth deep throating rio idk what more you need me to say about it

it is…..good stuff

bless the kinkmeme or fest whatever we’re calling it

praise - civillove / @blainesebastian

I mean you had me at “three times rio calls beth a good girl and one time he really means it”

ephemeral rio

I left that note for myself in here in the middle of the night and haven’t the foggiest what i was thinking but i stand by it none the less

okay okay i think i know what i meant, this fic (as do all of my fav civillove brio fics) has this sort of like, liminal, in the quiet moments feel to them that makes the moments and feelings somehow feel like i’m catching a glimpse of something secret and precious???

idk i just really like it okay

Heart and Soul - riosnecktattoo / @riosnecktattoo

oh look more unbearably sweet domestic tenderness, this time to music

thank you ma’am for my life

rio remembers beth used to play piano and gets her one and revoltingly cute shenanigans result

also hilarity

and sexiness

this fic has it all, truly

shout out to mick who sees no reason to keep rio’s feelings to himself

good girls tumblr fic - prettylittlementirosa / @hypermania

cheating and reccing a whole series

It’s my list and i can do what i wanna

stop crying about it, it’s four fics and they’re all AMAZING absolutely impossible to pick a fav

truly flawless characterization, next level ability to capture evocative mood, cannot get enough

three’s a crowd: who knew ballroom dancing while dean watches and grinds his teeth could be so sexy

(trick question everything about that premise sounds A++++ and boy howdy does it live up)

feel it on the way home: rio tries to break up with beth, it goes about as well as you’d expect

(thE angSty tenSioN)

i want to play the game: [from the floor] i’m still not ready to talk about it

(rio/turner, missing scene, 10000000% a taste of what went down in that hotel room)

june after dark: pitch perfect annie pov, really really love the take that Annie is the baby whisperer, can’t fully explain why but it feels incredibly right

(ANNIE X NANCY COULD WORK SO WELL YOU GUYS)

#fingers crossed these links are right i did not double check #i like to live on the edge #truly mind boggling amount of fluff on this list i surprised myself on that one #no i will not at any point get my shit together enough to write out thoughtful commentary this is a shit posting blog first last and always #fic recs #gg fic #nbc good girls #i'll come up with a tag for these if i ever do them again #check back 37 years from now #or ~~~~~~march #whatever that means

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Out from the cold (Llewyn Davis x reader)

Summary: Llewyn (precious baby) needs your comfort, and oddly, looking after him comforts you too. Fluff but a lil angst to get to the comfort.

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (Dunno how many I can do but gonna try and blitz a few requests out tonight. I’m doing these quickly so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) ALSO THIS IS EXCITING I’VE NEVER WRITTEN LLEWYN BEFORE AND I’M KINDA HAPPY WITH IT! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK? (I love this movie so much, one of my all-time favourites, and one of my fave Oscar performances.)

Warnings: just Llewyn swearing, as per. Alcohol and cigs. No drunkeness. Mentions of homeessness / couch-surfing. Mention of abortion.

GIF by @digginmovies

It’s late when he shows up at your door. Or rather, it’s late when you find him in your hallway. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, because he didn’t even knock. Perhaps he was too afraid to, but by the time you eventually stopped pacing your floorboards and threw a scarf around you, you’d come to fear the worst; that he’d been beaten and left in a gutter or some doorway, or perhpas that he was just stubbornly wandering the streets, preferring to freeze to death rather than “bother” you. Or worse than that... perhaps he’d finally struck lucky and you’d never see him again. Now that he no longer needed your couch, maybe he no longer needed you.

Anyway, all of your fears were entirely unfounded, and it was a shock to find him there, leaning up against the wall. The shortest missing person recovery mission ever known.

“Llewyn?” you question, sighing in frustration and unwrapping your suddenly suffocating red scarf.

His whole body is an apology as he turns his head towards you. Eyes apologetic. Shoulders apologetic. That sorry cord jacket is very, very sorry indeed. Hell, even his curls slump over his forehead in a despondent way, as if they’ve given up too.

This precious man. Why doesn’t he know how special he is? Why does he always dwell in the shadows, rather than allowing himself to be welcomed into this warm, light-bathed apartment of yours. Why doesn’t he realise that he is a light himself, and not a burden? That his presence alone can furnish and illuminate any room. Can compel audiences and, certainly, can move you to train your eyes on him as if he is a star under a perpetual spotlight.

Well, you suppose you should just be thankful that he’s here at all, because he always seems an instant away from slipping into shadow and never coming out again. You are thankful. You are always thankful to find him on your doorstep.

“How did it go?” you ask him, and Llewyn pushes himself up from the wall, despondently shaking his head. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and simply stands there as if forgetting any purpose which might cause him to move. You have to shuffle forwards yourself to give him the hug you feel he so desperately needs, even if he doesn’t know he deserves it. You wrap you arms around him, and it’s a little awkward, and he’s stiff, and he feels of wool and cord beneath your fingertips. Smells of frost and cigarette smoke, and like he hasn’t managed to run his clothes through the laundry in a few days. You make a note to do that for him, if you can coax him into a warm bath later.

“Can I please stay with you?” Llewyn asks in a small voice.

You don’t let go of him, willing him to soften against you.

“Llewyn, you dont have to ask me that, you live here.” You say it like it’s obvious, yet this simple fact is something you are endlessly trying to convince him of.

“I sleep on your couch, because I have no fucking money. Because I’m a piece of shit musician who can’t book a gig except for the Gaslight. And that’s only because I knocked-up a chick who gets me a slot out of pity some nights because she aborted my baby.”

“Llewyn!” you say, heartbroken and disbelieving that he could talk about himself in such a way, and looking, in your shock, like you might come for a piece of him too for thinking so little of himself. But, the world keeps kicking this poor man when he’s down, and he’s running out of energy to keep getting back up, so there’s something in you which can’t blame him.

“I’m just tired. I’m just so fuckin’ tired.”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, that thick, soft beard under your fingertips.

“Llewyn,” you say softly, searching his melancholy eyes. You want to tell him how talented he is, how important. How special, like you have a hundred times before, but he won’t beleive you. Never does. So, instead, you try something you never have before. At least, not while sober. You dip forward and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pull away before his lips have time to react, though even if you had lingered, you’re not sure he would have. You swear that man is so touch-starved that he can no longer recognise affection. That he can no longer remember how to move his lips against another’s. You swear he’s too down on himself that he doesn’t remember how to respond to being wanted.

“Come inside. Your lips are like ice,” you say, and it’s true. You only wish you could thaw him.

Llewyn picks up his guitar case and finally follows you inside, taking his familiar spot on the couch and folding his arms around himself, not even taking off his scarf or jacket. Sometimes you worry that his chill goes all the way down to his bones. Just incase it can help with that, you make him some warm tea and wordlessly pass the mug to him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, leaning forward in his seat as you sit at the other end of the couch from him, watching him gripping the warm beverage in his fingerless gloves like he’s never known a warm touch like it.

You sit quietly next to him and allow him to thaw a little, watching the steam rising from the mug as he takes careful sips. It has begun to lash with rain outside, the percussive sound and howl of wind muffled against the window pane, and pleasantly soothing. At least, it sounds soothing to you; Llewyn probably thinks it’s that dark cloud following him around again.

“Have you eaten?”

“Waffles. Had some Gaslight money left,” he says in monotone, staring intently at a particular spot on your hardwood floor. He didn’t make nutritionally sound choices, it seems, but at least he’s had something.

“Good,” you nod. “And do you want to talk about the audition?”

“Nope,” Llewyn responds dejectedly, popping the “p” emphatically.

When he’s drained the cup he sets it down, eventually unwinding his scarf from around his neck and shuffling off his gloves and jacket. Without all his layers he looks a little like a lost baby bird without its nest, or like a winter tree without it’s covering of leaves.

You take a risk in an attempt to perk him up and head towards the vinyl player, dropping the needle on a record you know he likes. And then, you reseat yourself on the couch, a little closer to him this time.

Llewyn finally turns to you, elbows resting on his thighs, looking just a little less morose. “Got any wine? And cigarettes?”

Now, that you could do.

You oblige him, and before long you are sipping on a glass of red, and you let Llewyn rant freely about the audition he doesn’t want to talk about at his leisure, a cigarette bobbing in-between his lips as he talks, smoke wafting around his face and his hair like the ghost of his own curls. You let him rant about the cookie-cutter, soulless, talentless musicians who make it, and the blood-sucking label execs, and the tasteless consumers, and the whole damn thing, until his shoulders look a little less heavy. A little less apologetic. Until he forgets himself and picks up his guitar and begins to mindlessly pluck and strum away.

He starts to sing under his breath, because he can’t help but sing. Because it comes naturally to him, and suddenly he is the only light in your living room. He is under his own super trouper, against the backdrop of the rainy window pane. Light shining against melancholy.

As lovely as he is to look at, with the way his left cheek tugs up with his words and his brow creases with feeling, you close your eyes as his voice filters through into your bones, making you warm from within.

“I love it when you sing,” you say sincerely, and you don’t know it, but your simple, honest words are music to Llewyn’s ears. Those words are something he hears startingly seldom for a man with a talent like his.

Your eyes are still closed when you hear the chaotic thrum of strings as Llewyn sets the guitar down. Your eyes are still closed as Llewyn kneels before you and slides his hands along your thighs, palms down. Your eyes open just before he dips his head and presses a chaste, smoky kiss to your lips.

Your lips do not react. If Llewyn was too touch-starved to kiss you back earlier, you suppose you are too surprised that he might want you back. You want to kiss him, and apparently he wants to kiss you, but you are singing different bars of the same song. Your timing is all off. So, your lips do not meld with his, no matter how long you’ve waited for this. Wanted it. This time too, his mouth was even warm against yours. His hands warm against you. Thawing.

You smile at him, softly. Catiously. As if you might scare him off. As if he is a wild animal who has dropped to his knees for you.

Instead, he remains as you bring your hands back to either side of his face, and lose yourself in his dark, turbulent stare. It is you who suddenly feels catious, as if he is a storm which might swallow you. Might paint you in licks of grey if you don’t first heal his pain. His eyes are raw. Broken apart, and his beautiful soul so exposed beneath them. No wonder he is so guarded. Feels so vulnerable. His heart is so open and so wounded beneath the expletives and the apathy and the lucklessness, isn’t it? It would be so easy to break, like a lost bird far from its nest.

But this time, he stays. Llewyn simply looks right back into your eyes, for once. And when he undoubtedly notices your evident desire there, all he does is question why you are looking at him at all.

“Why do you want me?” he asks you, plainly, shaking his head softly. He doesn’t say more, but you swear you could guess his thought. You could have any Tom, Dick, or Harry. Or a Chad. Some rich, muscly dude with a centre part and a Corvette. I’m nothing. Nobody.

Your mouth forms a bashful, thin line, and you shrug your shoulders, placing your hands over his palms. You desperately want to show him he is somebody.

“I dunno. Why do you sing, Llewyn? Why do birds make music? I just do. I want you. My soul tells me I should, and I listen.”

He looks sad. So sad, So tired, and so you do the only thing your soul tells you to in this moment. You comfort him. You reach up and tangle your fingers into that mess of crotchet black curls on his head. You stroke him and soothe him, and he gives in to you, burying his head in your lap and letting you touch him. Letting you smooth your hands and your fingers and thumbs over his hair, his neck, his back, his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your lower legs and curls around them, still sat at your feet like a stray who refuses to be a house cat, despite how many times you try to coax him in from out of the cold.

“Llewyn, come lie with me a while?” you ask gently, and he looks up at you, unsure. Still, he clambers up from his position and is about to recline on the sofa when you grab his hand. “No, Llewyn. Come lie with me in my bed?”

He gulps, as if you might eat him alive, but he follows as you guide him as if it might be a relief to climb into your jaws anyway, and you lead him by the hand along the hallway and into your room.

He watches you with hesitant fascination as you shrug off your layers, down to your underwear. Then, he follows suit, letting his worn trousers and white t-shirt pool on to the floor at his feet, until he’s standing in only his patterned boxers.

You climb under the covers, shivering at the autumn chill in the room, and you hold the tented covers open for Llewyn to climb in after you.

“Y-You want me to... W-what do you wanna do?”

“Nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you’ll let me, I just want to hold you.”

He hesitates, but he’s cold, and so, so alone, and he’s so tired of never having anything he wants. So tired that he’s willing to forget, just this once, that he can’t give you what you deserve. Or at least to stop consciously reminding himself of it.

He slots his soft, slim body under the covers, and you let the blanket fall over him. Then, you lie on your back and pull him on top of you, until his body covers yours and his head nestles on the cushion of your breasts.

It is quiet enough in the room that you hear him gulp again, but he doesn’t bolt. Once he’s settled, your wrap him in your arms, your fingers twining in his hair, carding through those thick, tangled curls. Your hands smooth up and down his back, until he is humming softly, his face entirely buried in your chest. “Sweet man,” you soothe, and listen to the sound of the rain outside, and the background noise of the record player filtering through. “I know it’s not much, but I love it when you sing. I wish I could give you riches for it, and record deals. But all I have to give in return is a little piece of my heart, and you steal a piece of it every time I hear your voice,” you whisper gently.

Llewyn is silent, and you wonder if you might have scared him off, but he seems quite content exactly where he is. You wish he would stay, but you know he has a cycle of houses, like a traitourous street cat with nowhere he feels deserving to call home.

For now though, he is here, and you begin to sing gently along to the song filtering through from the living room. It’s one of your favourites. One which Llewyn has sung for you many times before.

You look down at the side of his face, his eyes closed, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek, and his beard twitching as his full lips tug up into a faint smile. Finally.

“You have a pretty voice, dove,” he says, and your heart clenches at the pet name. At the fact you have finally found a way to make him happy. You should have realised it would be music.

“No, Llewyn. It’s nothing compared to you.”

“I dunno. You probably have more chance of making it than I do. Maybe you should have gone today instead.” You worry that he has been tugged back into a slump, but you see he is still smiling, and you recognise the humour in his tone, self-deprecating though it is.

By the next chorus, Llewyn begins to softly sing along too, and your heart flutters as his voice vibrates against your bosom.

You tug in a deep, happy breath, and exhale spring into the autumn room.

Llewyn props himself on to his elbows and shuffles up the bed, until his face is level with your own.

You regard him catiously, feeling suddenly as flighty as he usually is.

“What do you want to do?” you ask him, as his lips hover close to yours.

“Nothin’ you don’t want to,” he says, mirroring your words from moments ago.

This time, when your lips meet, softly, neither of you are surprised. This time, your mouths are both warm and moving together, like you sing the words to a shared song, both melding in time.

As Llewyn curls around your body and snuggles into you for warmth, you hope you can get him to stay. You hope you’ve showed him he doesn’t need to wander in the cold any longer.

He has your heart after all, and you need him to bring it indoors; out from the cold.

#llewyn x reader #llewyn davis x reader #inside llewyn davis #inside llewyn davis fanfiction #llewyn davis fic #llewyn angst #llewyn fluff #coen brothers #oscar isaac

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kumeko · 4 years

Photo

A/N: For the once in a lifetime zine! I just wanted to write all the siblings.

…

1. Past

“Gure-san!” Ayame crooned into the phone, delight spreading to his toes at the sound of his friend’s voice. It had been ages since they’d last called, since they’d last played this game of lovers and midnight escapades. He pouted. “You took too long to call me.”

“Aaya, you know I could never leave you for long,” Shigure breathed on the other end of the phone, his tone perfectly serious. It was the thing that freaked out their teachers’ the most: the absolute lack of a teasing lilt or mocking smirk. The inability to determine if he was serious or not. “There’s no one who could replace you.”

Really, it had been too long. Ayame closed his eyes, his finger twirling on his antique phone’s cord. It was too bad there was no audience for this performance, no Hatori to give them a dry look, no Mayu tossing a table. He would have even taken his mother’s disgusted expression. Glancing around his empty shop, Ayame noted the light escaping under the sewing room’s door. Mine was still here then.

Mine was here. His lips tugged up into an involuntary smile as he sat down on an empty couch. “So you weren’t cheating on me, Gure-san?”

“Never.” Shigure chuckled. There was a short pause, the breath between actions, and while his tone was still light, Ayame could almost see his slow smirk. “Though that might change. Yuki’ll be staying with me.”

“Yuki?” Ayame blinked, confused. Yuki. Yuki. A familiar name. An old classmate? A younger cousin?

“You still don’t remember your brother’s name?” Shigure let out a short, bark-like laugh. After a long pause, he added incredulously, “Or did you forget that you have a brother entirely?”

Both. Ayame didn’t respond, his grip tightening on the phone. Yuki. His brother. Faintly, just faintly, he remembered small fingers reaching for him, a tiny voice and teary eyes. A black room and Akito’s smirk. A hazy image with a hazy name. “He’s moving in with you?”

Shigure didn’t press the matter, to Ayame’s relief. “Haru asked. Haru. Can you believe that? The cow helping the rat? I guess your brother actually has friends outside of Akito.”

A cruel comment. Ayame couldn’t refute it; he had thought the same thing, on those rare instances he thought of his brother at all. “Akito let him leave?”

“I know! Amazing. And he’s even going to our high school.” Nonchalantly, Shigure changed topics. “Well, they managed the three of us, I think they can handle one well-behaved kid. It’ll be like having a second Hatori. He’s a quiet kid.”

“He’s in our high school,” Ayame muttered, his brow furrowed. Yuki was in high school. His tiny fingers were bigger now, his voice deeper. There must have been a time—at the new year’s banquet, at any of the million times he’d visited the main house—that he’d seen this Yuki, an almost grown-up Yuki.

But his memory was still that of a child and a heavy feeling settled in his belly.

“Don’t tell me you forgot high school too!” Shigure teased playfully.

“No…I just…” Ayame struggled to find the words to describe this feeling, this aching, gnawing feeling. “I didn’t know.” That his brother was in high school. That his brother was leaving the compound. That his brother had friends, had at least one friend. Even the facts he barely remembered, favourite foods and toys, were all circumspect. “Does he know that we went there?”

“I don’t think so. He’s never brought it up.” Shigure paused and Ayame could tell before he even took a breath, before the first syllable was uttered, that this would hurt. “He hasn’t mentioned you either.”

It was like the twist of a knife. A punch in the stomach. Ayame was left winded and he didn’t even know why.

“It’s not like you two talk.” There was a pounding sound on the other side of the line and Shigure sighed. “Well, I suppose I have to let her in eventually. Or she might actually hang herself. See you in my dreams, Aaya.”

“Not if I see you first,” he responded automatically. On the other end, the phone went dead, a dial tone echoing in his ears.

“Ayame?” Mine poked her head out of the door. Spotting him, she cocked her head. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes. No.” He stared down at his shirt, at the edges of his right sleeve. Tiny fingers had reached for it once, tiny fingers that he had never considered once. “I…I don’t know.”

2. Present

“Heya, squirt.” Arisa ruffled Megumi’s hair as she walked past him to the kitchen. Yanking open the fridge, she rifled through its contents for drinks. “Didn’t realize you were home.”

“I just came back.” Calmly, he ran his fingers through his locks, brushing any stray hair back in place. There. Much better. While he liked the attention, there were times when Megumi wished Arisa would be less physical about it. Noting her cotton shorts and white tank top, he cocked his head. “A slumber party?”

“Yep.” Grabbing four cans of pop, Arisa closed the fridge with her shoulder. She held out one can to him with a grin. “Come on, you can join us. We’re playing some card games and I’m tired of Saki winning all the time.”

“She’ll beat me too,” he pointed out, still accepting the cold can.

“Then at least we can change who’s losing.” Arisa shifted the cans from one hand to the other, rubbing the cold appendage against her leg to warm it up. “I feel like Tohru should be doing worse than she is, and Saki’s screwing me over.”

The chances of that happening were almost a hundred percent. Megumi didn’t even need to ask his sister to know. Trailing after Arisa as they headed upstairs, he asked, “So all three of you today?”

“Mmmm, yeah. It’s been so long since it’s been just the three of us.” Arisa practically bounced up the steps. Looking over her shoulder, she winked. “I kidnapped her from the prince and the pauper. Just because they live with her, the Sohmas think they can hog all of her attention.”

“The prince and the pauper?” Megumi raised a brow. That was a new nickname. “I thought he was an orange-haired bastard?”

“He can be both.” Arisa shrugged, reaching the top landing. She spun around, a mischievous smirk on her face. “He’s a pauper because he almost always loses at Rich Man, Poor Man.”

“That would make you one too.” Saki suddenly appeared behind Arisa, grabbing a pop can. Ignoring Arisa’s surprised jump, she stared at the can. “It’s cold.”

“Warn me a little, would ya?” Arisa leaned against the wall, calming down. She shot Saki a disgruntled glare. “At the very least, I beat Kyo. And sometimes Tohru.”

“A grievance I shall never forgive,” Saki remarked, rolling the can in her hands. “This feels good.”

“It is hot today.” Megumi pressed his can against his cheek. The cool aluminum sent a shiver down his spine. Ah, that was much better.

“…I can never tell if either of you are serious or not.” Arisa rubbed her forehead, torn between exasperation and annoyance. She glanced at Megumi, and then at Saki. “At least you’re wearing short sleeves today.”

“I am not completely immune to the heat,” Saki replied, fanning herself lightly. “Ah. It truly is hot.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.” Straightening up, Arisa barged into Saki’s bedroom. “Alright, time to kick everyone’s asses.”

“K-kick?” Out of sight, a surprised Tohru squeaked. “It’s a card game!”

Still standing in the hallway, Saki leaned against a wall, closing her eyes with a pleased smile. Quietly, Megumi stood next to her, his shoulder bumping into her arm, listening as Arisa crowed excitedly, as Tohru stuttered and panicked. His sister chuckled softly and he could feel the vibrations through her skin.

A laugh. A smile. Megumi watched her, transfixed.

“Yes?” Saki cracked open an eye. Even the aura around her felt light and teasing.

“You’re happy,” he said, more a statement than question.

“Hmm.” Saki considered it before nodding. “I am.” She opened both her eyes and smiled fondly at him. “Your prayer came true.”

3. Future

“She’s here!” Momo peeked out the living room curtain, into the main garden. She quickly let go of the cloth, letting it fall back into place as she stumbled back. “And so is everyone else.”

“Ahhhh…” Momiji’s smile dropped a notch as he tried to figure out just how did his cousins know about this concert. There was Tohru, of course, but while she was a terrible liar, she wouldn’t actually tell anyone. Standing behind his sister, he drew back the window curtains just enough to get a glimpse of everyone. Haru. Yuki. Kyo. Shigure—

Shigure. Momiji rubbed his forehead. Yep. That was the root cause. It would have been hard for Tohru to hide it from him, her face gave everything away. From there, it was a single call to invite all of the ex-zodiac members. Add in their friends and a performance for three became a performance for a crowd. Frowning, he shot a glare at his older cousin. “It’s always him.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Momo muttered, clutching her violin tightly. She glanced at him in askance. “Are we really going to perform?”

“Yep!” Smiling at her encouragingly, Momiji pointed at the few cousins that she’d met. “There’s Kisa and Haru and Hiro—actually, never mind Hiro.”

Despite the things that had changed since the curse was broken, Hiro’s tongue was not one of them. Even Kisa couldn’t sweeten his barbed words by much. Still, he was at least moderately kinder to others and Momo hadn’t come back in tears whenever she played with the pair.

“Kisa.” Momo brightened. “And…there’s Yuki. And Mine and…” She stumbled, trying to remember the names of all their friends. “And…and Uotani and Hanajima…”

“Yep.” Momiji grinned, counting them off himself. There were far more outsiders in the Sohma compound these days, the doors open to all now. High school friends, coworkers, that guy from the bakery—wait. Momiji cocked his head. It was good and all that anyone could come and go, but why were all of these random strangers here for a single violin recital?

Momiji’s eyes landed on silver hair. Of course. He should have known. Ayame. Who else could it have been? As though sensing his thoughts, Ayame spotted him and shot him a thumbs up. He winked, mouthing, Good luck.

It was hard to decide between Shigure and Ayame which one deserved more punishment. Maybe he could sick Hatori on both of them later. Turning back to his sister, he wrapped an arm around her and hugged her to his side. “We have so many friends! I think they’ll be happy to hear us play.”

“Right.” Momo swallowed, peeking back through the curtain once more. She took a deep breath, stood up straight, and then moved back into the center of the room. Staring at her violin for a long moment, she squared her shoulders and raised it. “We have to tune up.”

Part of Momiji missed the baby chick, the little girl who was always peering around her mother’s skirts. As a teenager, the only part of that left was the tremble of her hands as she raised her violin, the slight shake of her bow as she tried to settle herself. Yet this girl was able to talk to him, was able to be with him, and he would take that over the baby chick any day. “Right.”

Momiji raised his violin. Finally, after all those years, they were playing together. Like real siblings. Like a real family.

#fruits basket #ayame sohma #momiji sohma #shigure sohma #saki hanajima #momo sohma #megumi hanajima #arisa uotani #fanfic

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maybeimamuppet · 3 years

Text

queen of hearts (part 1)

hi friends!! happy wednesday! did someone say royalty au?? no. but i wrote one anyone so here you are. this is my favorite thing i've written so far, but buckle up, it's a doozy.

trigger warnings for:

period-typical homophobia

mentioned child/domestic abuse

attempted r*pe/assault

graphic injury

and death!

if i missed any please let me know, that's entirely possible. also, if you're bothered by historical/medical inaccuracies, maybe skip this one. otherwise, please enjoy!

Once upon a time, there was a brave knight; who fought in many battles, vanquished terrible beasts, and could wield a sword like no other.

Her name was Janis.

Janis was an energetic child, bouncing off walls and ripping holes in dresses by the time she was two. By four, she had mastered the art of tree climbing, and by six she was a pro at arm wrestling.

Janis always knew she was different. She was never particularly interested in typically 'feminine' activities, and she felt a special distaste for boys. But girls, on the other hand. Girls were a different story.

When she was twelve, Janis worked for the George family, a rich family of noble blood, with rumored connections to the royal family. They had a daughter just a few months older than Janis herself, named Regina. Janis was a servant, but the two quickly became friends. And then, more than friends.

But it was too good to last. Regina's father caught the two girls holding hands one day, and gave Janis a lashing so severe she saw stars. He forbade Janis from ever seeing his daughter again, and marched her home by the ear.

Janis' parents were of a similar mindset. They gave her a single loaf of bread, and allowed her to keep the clothes on her back. With a final hug from her baby sister, Janis was disowned, never to see her family again.

She slept in a barn for a week, huddled up with a sheep for warmth. The farmer discovered her after a while and made her leave, but his wife took pity and gave her a hot dinner first.

For nearly a year, Janis slept outside the door to a tavern. She joined an underground fighting ring for money, and would occasionally make bets to earn more. As she continued, she realized she wasn't eating enough to maintain her strength.

So, Janis took up pickpocketing too. In less than a month, she had mastered the craft. She could steal the wallets of the strange men who passed her without a second glance on their way in to the tavern, take their money, and put the wallet back with the men none the wiser.

Until Ron Duvall came along. Janis could tell by his clothing that he had some sort of connection to the royal family. He must have a lot of money. She managed to steal the wallet and the money without him noticing, but she fumbled putting it back. He drew his sword and whirled around, threatening to slice her arms off at the elbow for daring to steal from him.

But upon turning, he came face to face with a young, severely malnourished girl, in tattered clothes several sizes too small and with wide, terrified eyes. He could tell by the way she was clutching the money that she was truly desperate for it. Something in his heart told him to help.

From that day, Janis had a new home. As it turned out, Ron Duvall was the captain of the royal guard. He had the highest position, and was the most trusted soldier in the ranks. Janis joined them, training alongside the other soldiers and living in the barracks.

She finally had clothes that fit, plenty of food, a warm bed. She met a boy named Damian after a month or so, a seamster around her age who worked in the castle. They became instant best friends, inseparable except to attend to their duties. Janis had a family, and didn't plan to let go.

—————

Janis is hacking at a straw man, poking holes in his torso and lopping little bits off. Out of her peripheral she spies Damian barreling towards her, which is slightly concerning.

"Janis! Janjan! Jan!" Damian calls as Janis slices the head off her dummy and sheathes her sword. She turns towards him as she wipes the sweat from her face.

"What's the matter? I never thought I'd see you run voluntarily," Janis comments.

"I take offense to that," Damian pants. "But the King and Queen have asked for you."

Janis whirls around from the trough of water she's scrubbing her face from. "Who wants me?"

"The King. And the Queen."

"That can't be good," Janis mumbles, color draining from her face. "What do they want with me?"

"They didn't say," Damian huffs, still trying to get his breath back. "But it can't be too bad or they would've sent a guard instead of someone like me."

Janis dunks her whole head in the tank quickly, pulling back out and walking briskly to her barrack. "Come on then."

Damian follows after her quickly, sitting on her bunk as she pulls her daily uniform from the trunk at her footboard.

"I will never understand why they put so many fucking buckles on this thing," Janis grumbles as she fastens on her blue and gold uniform jacket. She grabs a cloth from her trunk as well, scrubbing at her face harshly. "Can you plait my hair for me?"

Damian pulls her damp hair back, braiding it quickly down her back and tying it with a leather cord as she tugs on her boots and sheath again. "There."

"Thanks. I'll tell you what they say later, wish me luck. Love you," Janis says hastily, kissing his cheek and running towards the palace.

"Good luck, love you too," Damian calls after her.

The guards at the main gate snap to attention as Janis barrels up the high steps towards them, but relax slightly upon seeing that she's in the same uniform as them.

She stops just in front of them, panting slightly. "I have been requested by the King and Queen."

"What is your name, soldier?" One of them asks.

"Sarkisian, Janis."

"Come with me."

She follows after him, looking around in awe at the elaborate decor around her. She bumps into him outside the door to the throne room and earns herself a disapproving glare. He enters and announces her, so she puffs up her chest and follows him in.

The royals don't react, so she goes to the respectful distance and kneels before them. "Your Majesties."

"Stand, soldier," The Queen says. Janis does. "You are Sarkisian?"

"I am, Your Majesty," Janis replies politely, bowing her head respectfully.

"Duvall informs me you're his best fighter," The King says. "Is this true?"

"Um, I like to think so, Your Majesty. I have trained for years in both swordsmanship and archery," Janis responds. "But many of my fellow soldiers are likely as skilled as I."

"How old are you, soldier?" The Queen asks.

"Seventeen, Your Majesty," Janis says politely.

The King raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You are young to be so skilled."

"I am aware, Your Majesty. However, I have been training since I was thirteen. I fought in the war against Kingdom Sherwood when I was fifteen," Janis responds. "I am confident in my skills."

"And your family?" the Queen asks. Janis looks down.

"I was disowned at age twelve, Your Majesty," she murmurs, just loudly enough for them to hear. "I have not seen any of them since."

"Why?" the Queen asks suspiciously.

"Several reasons," Janis replies. She knows she can't reveal the true one. "But mainly due to the fact that they were poor. They could not afford to house both me and my younger sister."

The King gives her a sympathetic glance, but Janis can't read the Queen.

"Please excuse us for a moment, soldier," the King says kindly. Janis bows, walking out of earshot and looking around in awe. There's several portraits decorating the walls, of the King and Queen, eventually with the Princess making an appearance. She grows older in every portrait, from a fiery haired infant to an impish looking child, to an elegant and refined looking young lady.

She can overhear bits and pieces of the conversation between the royals. "She's her age." "But she's a girl." "I'd feel better having a girl perform this task anyway."

Eventually, she's called back, bowing again.

"We have a position for you. Our daughter needs a personal guard, we think you would be best suited for the task," the King says.

Janis is stunned. "Me? I- Forgive me, Your Majesties, I'm-I'm honored, but... would you not rather have someone with more training guard the Princess?"

The Queen looks at the King meaningfully, as if agreeing with her, but the King shakes his head. "We trust Lord Duvall's judgement. If he recommends you, we trust him. It also helps you are close in age to Princess Cadence, and a female."

Janis thinks. "Thank you, Your Majesties, I'm honored, truly. I shall protect the Princess with my life."

The Queen looks slightly relieved at this. "You are dismissed, soldier. Guard, take this young lady to the Princess' quarters."

"Right away, Your Majesty."

Janis bows once more as she takes her leave, hustling after the large guard towards the Princess' wing of the palace. Eventually they reach one of the tallest doors Janis has ever seen, and the guard knocks politely on it.

A soft, melodic voice rings out from inside, sounding rather melancholy to Janis. "Come in."

The guard opens the door, gesturing for Janis to enter and following after her. A small figure is sat by the massive window, looking out over the gardens of the palace. She turns, and Janis has to withhold a gasp. Very few of the people outside the palace have ever actually seen the Princess, but she's absolutely beautiful.

Long auburn curls hang down her back to her waist, and she has gorgeous crystal blue doe eyes. Freckles are spattered all over her pale skin like stars in the night sky. She's in a long dress, pale blue in color with a skirt that brushes the floor.

"He-oh," the Princess stutters. "Hello. Forgive me, I... wasn't expecting a lady. Is this who they've chosen?"

"Yes, your Highness. Knight Sarkisian," the other guard says.

"Hm. Thank you, Mike, you may go now," the Princess says, looking Janis up and down. He bows politely and takes his leave. "What is your name?"

"Um, Janis Sarkisian, Your Highness. At your service," Janis replies, bowing awkwardly.

"Oh, god, please don't. It seems we'll be spending a fair bit of time together, there's no need for all the formalities," the Princess replies. "I detest them, anyway. Call me Cady."

"Yes, Your-uhm, Cady," Janis stutters as she rises back up. Cady chuckles.

"Have you been in the palace before, Janis?" Cady asks, opening the door and leading her down the hall.

"I have not, Y-Cady," Janis says. "It's magnificent."

"I'm glad you think so," Cady says with just a touch of sadness. "Tell me about yourself."

"I don't think there's really much to tell. I'm seventeen, was born in the slums. My family was poor, I started working as a house servant in the nicer part of town when I was six to support my family," Janis replies. Cady turns to look at her with wide eyes, as if she's hearing the most interesting, surprising thing she's ever heard.

"You began work when you were six years old?" She asks in shock.

Janis nods. "I didn't have a choice, it was either work or starve. I'm far from unique in that regard."

Cady looks at her sadly. "My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt you. Please continue. If you wish to."

"Please don't apologize, Cady. Um, I continued work for several families until I was twelve. I was disowned, I slept in a barn until I was discovered and then started living outside a tavern. I competed in street fights for money for food, and sometimes pickpocketed if I didn't make enough in a day. I tried to steal from Ron, and nearly lost my hands for it," Janis chuckles. "But, he took pity on me and took me in. Taught me everything I know about the sword and bow. I rose quickly through the ranks, fought in the war. And now I'm here."

Cady freezes outside the door to their apparent destination, trying to take in everything she's just been told. "My goodness. The war was only finished two years ago, you couldn't have been more than-"

"Fifteen," Janis replies.

"Fifteen," Cady repeats hollowly. "You could've died, so young. And you lived on the streets for... how long?"

"A year or so, I didn't keep track exactly," Janis says. "Had other things on my mind."

Cady hums sadly. "Have you heard from your family at all?"

"Not since I was forced to leave, no," Janis replies. "But I've found people here that I consider closer family than they ever were."

"I'm glad for that," Cady says. "My apologies, if I'm prying. I just find the lives of others fascinating." She finally opens the doors they're in front of, revealing the massive gardens of the palace. "Walk with me, won't you?"

"Of course. Would you tell me about yourself, now? I feel I should know you, if I am to protect you," Janis replies. She's slightly on edge now that they're outside, but there are guards nearly everywhere and they're still walled in. She just needs a little extra caution.

"I'm not sure you'd find my life so interesting. It sounds so terribly dull in comparison to yours," Cady says, holding onto her arm with her right hand and holding her skirts with her left. "But very well. I am seventeen as well. I was born here, raised here. I am the only child, only heir to the throne. I've been stuck in classes on everything from medicine to diplomacy from the time I could speak."

Janis is slightly envious, but hides it and gestures for her to continue.

"I've almost never set foot outside the castle walls. Once a season we take the carriage through the villages, and every once in a while I sneak out to the stables. I've always loved animals," Cady says with a sigh. Janis gets the sense immediately that Cady is not as fortunate as she had thought. She seems... stuck, trapped. How sad.

"How do you sneak past all the guards?" Janis asks. "You must be like a spy."

Cady chuckles, coming to sit on the edge of a fountain. "The guards all let me go, and agree not to tell my parents so long as I have at least two of them to protect me on my way down. I'm not really sneaking around anyone but my parents."

"They don't let you go see the horses freely? How dangerous could that be?" Janis asks as she sits next to her.

"I've never done anything freely. I've always wished to see the town up close, or go through the woods, or walk down to speak to the soldiers training," Cady sighs. "But it's not safe. I'm the only heir, if something happens to me the whole kingdom of Evanston falls. I'll likely be kept in here the rest of my days."

"That sounds a rather miserable existence. I'm sorry," Janis says.

"Do not apologize, Janis, it's not as if you have any part in my entrapment here. And your life has been... much harder," Cady replies.

"That doesn't mean your life hasn't been hard too," Janis says. "They don't cancel out."

Cady looks at her thoughtfully. "I suppose not. You speak very eloquently for a guard, were you educated somewhere?"

Janis chuckles. "Not anywhere near what you're thinking. I had to learn to read and write for my job as a child, and I learned to add and subtract to make sure I had enough money. When I joined the guardhood I was trained in royal etiquette on the off chance I was ever required to serve inside the palace. That's about the extent of it."

"Oh. Well, lucky that you were trained then," Cady jokes weakly, but Janis still laughs. "Do you have any hobbies or interests? I don't know how much free time you have as a royal guard."

"Not much, I'll admit. I spend most of my time working on my fighting, keeping my strength up, things like that," Janis replies. "But I actually like art quite a bit. One of the ladies I worked for was kinder than the rest, an artist. She taught me a few things about painting and such, I always enjoyed that."

"That's lovely," Cady says, as if relieved Janis has something she can enjoy. "I never was much good at art. Do you have any works? I'd love to see them."

"I haven't been able to get much in the way of materials, but I have a tendency to doodle," Janis says. "I- wait, will I be moving into the palace?"

Cady giggles. "If you want this position, yes. You'll be living in the guards quarters outside my bedroom from now on."

"Oh. Then I suppose you'll see some little things I've done eventually," Janis replies. If Cady wanted into her own bedroom, she would have to pass through Janis' from now on. "What about you? Any interests I should know about?"

"Not really," Cady hums thoughtfully. "I always enjoyed my mathematics classes more than the others, and I love animals. I enjoy being outside more than anything, I do most of my work on the balconies and I walk outside at least once a day."

"I've never enjoyed being indoors either," Janis responds. "Mathematics, though, really? I never liked numbers."

"Yes, I never quite understood why. Numbers always just... made sense. Very little else does," Cady says, looking off into the distance. "Anyway. I suppose you want to know why I suddenly need a personal guard?"

Janis hadn't thought of that. The King and Queen obviously had personal guards, and there were many others stationed around the castle for their protection, but the Princess has never had one assigned just to her before. "Yes, I...yes."

Cady sighs heavily. "I come of age this winter, in February. I am to be married, but obviously have not had an opportunity to find a husband. My parents have decided to throw a festival and invite Princes from the neighboring kingdoms to come and compete for my hand in marriage."

"You don't sound pleased about this," Janis says. "Do you not wish to marry?"

"Not yet, and not like this," Cady replies. "But I must. Ten men are coming in January, just after the new year. I'll be married to one a week after my birthday."

"That's... awful," Janis says. "You're younger than I, you shouldn't be forced into a marriage yet if you don't wish to."

"It's how it must be done. To meet a husband on my own I would have to leave the palace, leave the kingdom, and talk with people outside. Since I can't do that, we must bring people from the outside, in. And hope for the best."

"So... my job is to keep you safe from a potential husband? What-why would they bring these men here if there's a chance they would do you harm?" Janis asks. None of this makes sense, so far.

Cady just sighs. "In theory, nothing should happen. These men are all royalty; trained in diplomacy and etiquette. They should all be perfect gentleman, and I'll take my pick. But there is always a chance one won't be. I've tried telling my parents we shouldn't do it this way. When I marry, I wish it to be for love. But they insist. The kingdom needs a royal family. I have to continue it, and soon."

"I'm sorry. I hope my position here won't be necessary, but I will protect you with my life if need be. And I hope you can find love with one of the suitors," Janis says. She suddenly feels lucky, not being born royal. She's had so much freedom that she took for granted.

"Thank you. I... I hope your position won't be needed either, but I'm glad to have met you," Cady says. "You've been through so much more in the same time as me. You have every right to hate me and yet you've been... kind. So far."

"I think I'll continue. You have been through things that commoners like me don't think about. You didn't ask to be born into your position, I don't hold your birth against you," Janis replies. "You have every right to treat me like a servant, but you have also been kind."

"Your job is to keep me alive, I think it's in my best interest to be kind," Cady jokes. "But thank you. I... I don't think I've ever had a friend before. I hope I can consider you to be one."

"Of course, Cady. I see no reason we shouldn't be," Janis says. "Being your friend sounds nice."

"I'm glad."

————-

Janis' birthday rolls around a few months later. Damian surprises her with a pastry he had snuck from the kitchens in the morning.

"Happy birthday, Janjan!" He whispers excitedly, since the Princess is still asleep.

"Thanks, D," she chuckles groggily, sitting up in her cot.

"You're welcome. I have to go, I can't be late for work or I'll be punished again, but I'll see you later," Damian says as he leaves. "I love you!"

"Love you too," Janis says as she nibbles at the pastry.

Cady enters a few minutes later, as Janis is getting dressed with her breakfast waiting on her pillow. Cady's braiding her hair over her shoulder as she heads down to breakfast with her family.

"Good morning, Janis," she says. "Did your friend bring you another pastry?" She points to her pillow as she finishes tying a ribbon around the end of her hair.

"Good morning, Cady. Yeah, um... today is my birthday," Janis explains. "He snuck me a special breakfast."

"It's your birthday? Why didn't you tell me?!" Cady asks as she comes to hug her tightly. Janis tenses slightly, they're not really supposed to be this intimate with the royals, but returns the affections after a second. "I have to get you a gift."

"No, Your-Cady. That's why I didn't tell anybody. It's just another day for me, I don't want a big deal made of it," Janis explains.

"Aww. Today should be special; you come of age today," Cady pouts. "And I've never had a friend's birthday to celebrate. Can I please get you a present?"

"I feel I came of age a long time ago, Princess. I suppose you can get me a gift, if you must," Janis begrudgingly allows. "Just nothing extravagant or expensive."

"Yay!" Cady squeals. "Oh, I'm late. I'll see you later, Janis! We'll do something special then. Happy birthday!"

"Okay, um. Thanks," Janis blinks. She had not expected Cady to be so excited.

She dons her uniform and heads down to her own breakfast with the rest of the guards. She sneaks a few extra apples, deciding to go see her horse, Pancakes.

On the way, she runs into Cady talking with a servant about something. The servant bows respectfully and heads for the main doors of the palace.

"Oh, Janis! Hi," Cady calls, making her way over to her. Janis is fascinated by the way Cady moves, every motion is somehow elegant. "Where are you going?"

"Um, the stables. Figured I'd take my horse around a little bit," Janis replies, trying to hide her sneaky fruit.

"I already saw them, Janis, you don't need to hide," Cady chuckles. "May I go with you?"

"Um... sure," Janis replies. "Follow me."

Cady does, running after Janis as she holds up her skirts. One of the guards at the main door gives the signal, and another pops around the corner to follow after them.

Janis holds the door for her when they reach the stables, heading to the stall in the far corner.

Cady smiles when she sees Janis' horse, taking one of the apples from Janis as a friendship offering. "This is yours? What's his name?"

"Pancakes," Janis mumbles sheepishly. "Don't laugh!"

"I'm sorry, that's just... really cute, I didn't expect it," Cady giggles, stroking his nose as he accepts the apple from her hand. "He's beautiful."

"Thanks. Trained him myself," Janis says. "Yeah, hi, stupid. Here's some breakfast."

"You trained him yourself? Wow," Cady says. "He's very docile."

"He's just lazy," Janis replies. "Do you-um... want to come? On the ride? I'm not leaving the grounds, if that other guard follows you'll be safe. And I have my sword and bow if anything should happen, god forbid."

Cady is nearly vibrating with excitement, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet before she throws herself at Janis. Maybe not every move is quite so elegant.

"Yes! Thank you! I've never-wait, I've never ridden a horse before. Is it scary?" Cady realizes suddenly.

"It might take a little getting used to. But if you get scared I'll just take you back," Janis replies, saddling Pancakes and kicking over a stool so Cady can clamber up. "After you, Princess."

"Thank you, my lady," Cady giggles, taking Janis' offered hand and wiggling her way onto the horse. "Wow, he really is calm. Sorry boy."

Her gown doesn't stretch enough to ride normally, so Cady rides side-saddle as Janis sits astride the horse behind her.

"Ready?" Janis asks before she starts him moving. Cady nods excitedly. Janis sets Pancakes off to a trot. Cady gives a frightened squeak and clings tightly to Janis, but once she gets used to the motion of it she starts laughing happily.

Janis holds Cady around the waist with one arm and the reins in her other hand, gradually picking up speed as they ride around the yard in a loop. Cady really seems to enjoy it, so Janis keeps going a little longer than she had planned before she rides them back to the enclosure.

She hops down and holds out a hand to help Cady off, removing everything from the horse and letting him wander to the trough for some water.

"Oh, Janis, that was wonderful. Thank you," Cady says happily, hugging her tightly. "I have a lesson now, but I'll meet you for tea once I finish. Hopefully Gretchen will be back with your gift by then." She shoots Janis a wink and turns back, running back to the castle.

"Fuck, this can't be happening again," Janis grumbles once Cady leaves, resting her forehead against the fence in exasperation. "I can't afford to fall in love with another girl."

Janis takes over for her substitute outside of Cady's study, where she's currently in a lesson on diplomacy and etiquette with foreign dignitaries.

Once the clock chimes the hour Cady comes rushing out, before she clocks Janis grinning at her and turns back around.

"Janis! Hi," She breathes. "I wasn't expecting you to be here. You could've taken the day off, you know."

"I have nothing else to be doing, Cady," Janis says.

"You could have spent the day with... oh, what is his name?" Cady huffs, pressing a hand to her forehead as she tries to remember.

"Damian, Princess?"

"Yes! You really must introduce me to him someday soon, I do much better with names when I have a face to match it to," Cady replies. "Couldn't you spend the day with him?"

"He has work to finish, but he promised to find me before dinner today. I may go with him then and get someone to cover my duties for a while, if I am excused," Janis says. "But I know he would love to make your acquaintance once he has the time to."

"I could have excused him from his duties for the day as well if you wished, Janis," Cady says gently. "I would like to dine with you alone, but I can give you a pass afterwards to spend the rest of the day with him, if you like?"

Janis thinks for a second. "That would be great, thank you, Cady."

"Of course. Come along now, I want to give you your gift," Cady says excitedly, grabbing Janis' hand and rushing through the corridors towards her bedroom.

"Are you not eating in the dining hall today, Princess?" Janis asks as she runs after her, still holding her hand.

"I want to give you your surprise first, Jay," Cady says. "But no. Let's eat in the gardens, today, it's lovely outside."

"Jay?" Janis asks. A nickname? She calls Cady 'Princess' as a cute joke, since Cady hates it. She hadn't expected Cady to return the favor.

"Oh, um... do you-do you not like it? I thought it was sweet," Cady says shyly. "I won't call you that if you don't like it."

"No! No, I like it, Princess. I just didn't expect it, is all," Janis says hastily.

"Oh! Okay then, Jay," Cady says with relief as she finally comes to a stop outside of the door. She peeks in first, squealing at whatever surprise she has prepared. "Close your eyes." She comes to cover Janis' eyes, guiding her into the guard's quarters. "Ready?"

Janis nods, so Cady removes her hands. Janis gasps happily at what she sees. Cady bought a very nice oil paint set, complete with several brushes of different sizes and shapes, canvases, and even an easel.

"You-you-this is for me?" Janis asks, trying not to cry.

"Of course. It's all yours," Cady says with a wide smile. "Go on, look closer."

"Thank you," Janis breathes as she runs a finger over the end of a brush. "This is... incredible, truly. I love it."

"I'm glad," Cady says. "But you have to paint me something with it. I don't mind what, but I want one of your paintings."

"Absolutely," Janis says, smiling as Cady wraps her in a hug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Happy birthday. Now come on, join me for tea," Cady insists, grabbing her hand again.

"Yes, Princess."

————-

The holiday season comes and goes, followed by the New Year. Exactly a week later, Janis is standing beside Cady on a high balcony, watching ten ships make their way into the harbor.

The town below is bustling with activity, banners in the kingdom's colors decorate every lamp and wall as the villagers rush around in their cloaks to prepare. Cady looks at them with a sort of longing, leaning casually against the rail.

Eventually she gives a sigh, turning to go inside. "I have to be in the throne room to greet everyone, we should go."

Janis removes her own cloak and takes Cady's, hanging them to dry on a rack just inside the door before following her down. She's in her dress uniform for the special occasion, which somehow has even more buckles than her usual one. She had nearly missed breakfast trying to get it on.

Cady plops on her throne with a huff, sitting in a very unladylike slouch while they're alone. "Keep an eye on each one, and then you can tell me what you think of them once we're alone again tonight."

"Yes, Princess. Are you alright?" Janis asks, standing at attention next to her.

"Yes, everything's fine. I just am really not looking forward to this."

"I understand, Cady, but I'm here to protect you," Janis replies. "I'm sure they'll be perfectly kind gentlemen."

"Hmph. They'd better be," Cady huffs. She straightens and Janis kneels when her parents enter, both snapping to their proper positions.

Janis is bid to stand once the royals are all seated, looking very proper and with a hand on her sword sheath in case someone tries something on Cady.

She tries not to jump when some very loud horns blow, announcing the arrival of the first Prince. He's handsome, announcing his name as Jason. Janis doesn't like him but doesn't clock him as a threat.

As it turns out, Janis doesn't like any of the Princes. She can't tell if it's because her instincts are telling her they're dangerous or because she doesn't want anyone else to be with her Princess, but she's on her top form the whole time.

She feels a special distaste for the tenth Prince, Shane. He carries himself with a haughty air, coming to kiss Cady's hand with an arrogant smirk. Janis has to physically hold back a groan of disbelief.

Once introductions are held, the Princes are escorted to the courtyard and into carriages for a short tour of the local villages. Cady and her family eat dinner during the parade, and then Cady has the evening off as the King and Queen give a speech to the commonwealth in the plaza from the main balcony.

"So what did you think of them?" Cady asks as she brushes her hair out for the day. Janis technically isn't supposed to enter her room unless it's an emergency, but Cady usually asks for her company before they go to sleep.

"They were... fine, I suppose," Janis answers, trying to hide her true opinions. Speaking about royalty so freely is improper.

"You can be honest with me, Jay. Nobody else is here," Cady replies knowingly, looking at her in the mirror.

"Fine. They were all mediocre at best and I don't trust the last one." Janis says rapidly, making Cady laugh.

"Shane? What was the matter with him?" Cady asks. "I didn't like him, either, but he seemed fine."

"The way he carried himself, like he owned the whole place. He thinks he's elite," Janis replies. "He looked at you like a possession, not a person. That's not something that changes. He would own you, if you married him."

Cady looks slightly startled at that. "You gathered all that from, what, three minutes?"

"I learned how to read people very well, helps me perceive threats in a fight," Janis replies casually. "But really, if I'm allowed any input into your decision. Don't pick him. He's who I'm supposed to be protecting you from."

"Okay, I won't pick him, don't worry. Um... what did you think of me, when we met?" Cady asks gently, turning around in her seat.

Alarm bells go off in Janis' head, she can't reveal too much or risk being tossed away again. "Um... I thought you were very beautiful, and that you were almost too kind to be the Princess. And that there was a sort of sadness or longing to you beneath the surface."

Cady just blinks at her. "Wow. Well, thank you, for saying I'm beautiful and kind, I suppose."

"Cady, I meant no offense by-" Janis bursts out, worried she'd still managed to screw it up.

"I know, Jay, it's fine. I'm not offended. You're not wrong, I do have a sense of longing. But I'm sure you learned why, once we had a conversation," Cady replies. "Anyway. What about the rest of the Princes? I quite liked the third, Aaron?"

Janis tries to remember the rest of the men. "He was handsome, and I don't think he's a threat. But he didn't strike me as really wanting to be here, either."

Cady comes to sit on her bed, patting the spot next to her for Janis to join her. "I should keep you around more, if you're this good at assessing people. If he doesn't want to be here I suppose I shouldn't pick him."

"It's your choice, Princess. If you like him and can form a connection with him, then I'm sure he'll enjoy being here eventually. Who wouldn't? You're great company," Janis says.

"Thank you," Cady says softly. "You're good company too. Certainly much easier to talk to than these men will be."

"You'll do fine, Cady," Janis comforts. "I'm sure of it."

Cady looks at her strangely, as if realizing something, but doesn't say anything for a long moment. "Thank you, Jay. I'm glad I have you to speak with."

"Um, you're welcome, Cady," Janis says nervously. "Uh, goodnight!"

Cady looks confused, and almost sad that she has to go. "Goodnight, Janis. Sleep well."

—————-

There's only three rules that Cady has to follow for the festival. Number one, all ten Princes must stay for a minimum of a week. Number two, she must consider them all, no matter how much she wishes the festival wasn't happening in the first place. She has to spend a roughly equal amount of time with them throughout the event, and consider their interests and personalities. And finally, she must stay inside the grounds of the palace. The Princes are all allowed to leave so long as they have guards to accompany them, but Cady is still under lock and key.

Janis now spends practically every waking moment with Cady. She takes her breakfasts earlier so she can guard Cady during her morning lessons, and takes her lunch late so she can protect her while she spends the late mornings and early afternoons courting all the Princes. Unless one of them requests it, Cady still dines alone with her family for dinner, and Janis takes hers at the same time.

She's certainly not complaining about the extra time with Cady, but it feels like she's getting less. They're not really spending time together anymore, Janis is just... doing her job. Guarding Cady, keeping her safe as she chooses someone to marry. She liked it better before, when it felt more like they were just friends.

On the fourth day of the festival, Janis gets a slight panic. Cady really seems to like this Aaron fellow. Janis came to terms with the fact that she had fallen hard for Cady long ago. She hadn't quite yet come to terms with the fact that she was going to have to watch Cady fall in love with someone else.

At the very least, Aaron is kind. He's a shy individual, who treats Cady with respect and makes sure to indulge her interests. He'll make a fine husband, a fine king. And yet, Janis gets a burning sense that he doesn't want that. He seems to like Cady in return, but none of the romantic things they do together seem to get him interested any more than he was when he arrived. Janis is either going to have to watch her best friend and secret love marry this man, or console her when he inevitably leaves. Maybe both.

She's deep in thought as she follows them around the gardens, ignoring the pang in her chest when she remembers this is the first place she ever really got to know Cady. Janis walked with her first.

Janis did a lot of things first. But Cady does several with the Princes as well, leaving Janis to wonder how special those moments really were. Cady goes riding with Jason, strolling around with Aaron, and even talks about art, albeit very briefly, with Shane.

Janis notices that Aaron keeps looking to their left, and that the corners of his mouth tick up just a bit when he does. Cady doesn't notice, she's looking at the beautiful sky and listening to the birds as the two of them chat peacefully. Janis looks with Aaron on the fifth time his head turns and is shocked to find that he seems to be looking at none other than her best friend.

Damian is working in the sewing room, hemming garments and sketching new gowns for Cady. Wedding gowns, most probably. He also keeps glancing up at them through the window, grinning slightly when he sees Aaron. How odd.

Janis realizes she's been staring at him for a while when he smiles and waves, and she waves back quickly before rushing to catch up with Cady and Aaron, who have gotten quite a ways away from her.

Cady sighs contently as she gets herself ready for bed that night, dizzy and dreamy. Janis is tense as she stands by the door.

"God, Janis, Aaron is so sweet," Cady swoons. "He spent our whole walk today just asking about me. He really wants to know me as a person, it's so wonderful."

"It is, Princess, I'm glad you enjoy his company," Janis grits, trying to hide her seething jealousy. If this keeps up she'll be out of a job. Get it together. "He seems wonderful for you."

Cady picks up on her tension, looking at her oddly. "Are you alright, Jay?"

"Hm?" Janis hums. Shit. "Oh, I'm fine, Cady. Just... tired is all. Longer days now, and everything."

Cady, blessedly, realizes that it's not something Janis wants to talk about. She grins comfortingly at her. "Okay. You should go get some rest, then. You can have tomorrow off, if you need. Can't have you getting too tired on the job."

Janis chuckles. "That's true. Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight, Janis," Cady replies as she crawls into her bed.

—————-

Janis does end up taking the next day off, to try and clear her head of this swirling mess of emotions. She spends it harassing Damian instead, pestering him with questions about his crush on Aaron as he tries desperately to catch up on his tasks.

"You think he's cuuuuuuute," Janis teases when Damian flushes at the mention of Aaron. "Damie's in looooove."

"Would you shut up? I have several sharp needles here and your eyeballs are within my reach," Damian huffs. "And besides, you're not any better with the Princess."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Janis demands. "I'm-I'm just her guard. Maybe a friend, that's it!"

"But you want more," Damian teases as he sticks his needle in a pincushion. "I see the way you look at her. You love her."

"As a friend!"

"No, Jan," Damian sighs. "I can tell. You had to pick the Princess, huh?"

"I didn't mean to," Janis mumbles. "She's just so pretty! And she's so nice, like... unless she's in the throne room it doesn't even feel like she's royalty."

"I understand," Damian sighs sadly. "I wish things were different. For all of us."

"You have no idea," Janis sighs back. The clock chimes then, signaling Janis has to leave for dinner and get back to her duties. "I love you. Remember our pact."

Damian laughs. They'd both decided that if they hadn't found anyone they could marry by the time they were thirty, they'd marry each other for tax benefits. "I love you too. Come down here more, I never get to see you."

"I will, I promise. Once Cady is married I'll have more time," Janis says. "Goodnight."

"Night, Jan."

"So how was your day?" Cady asks as she chooses her nightgown for the evening. "Is Damian well?"

"Yeah, he's fine, thanks," Janis says distractedly. "It was nice, I suppose."

"Missed me too much?" Cady teases from behind her privacy screen. Janis tenses. "That was a joke, Jay, you can laugh."

Janis forces a chuckle. Cady has no idea. "Yes, you're right, I can't bear to be away."

"Good, I miss your company when you're away too," Cady responds. "You've known him since you came here, right?"

"Yeah, he and I met about a month after I joined the guard," Janis says with a fond smile. "He was sort of the first person to feel like family after I was disowned."

Cady sits next to her on her bed. "He sounds wonderful. Um... may I ask you something?"

"Um, yes," Janis says anxiously. If she's asking permission, it must be a deep sort of question. "Go ahead."

"Why were you disowned? You've told me it's because your parents couldn't afford you any longer," Cady asks gently. "But I refuse to believe a parent would send their own flesh and blood away with nothing more than one loaf of bread and the clothes on her back if that were the only reason."

Janis leaps up and presses her back against the wall defensively. "I can't tell you the true reason."

"Why not? You don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable, but I would never judge you," Cady says, looking at her sadly.

"It's not safe," Janis says hastily. "I would be... I would lose my position, maybe be exiled. Or worse."

"Is it that bad?" Cady asks, suddenly looking rather afraid of Janis. That's not what Janis wants, but she's desperately afraid to spill her secret. "Please, Jay, what happened to you?"

Janis supposes losing her position wouldn't be terrible. She doesn't want Cady to be scared of her, and maybe Cady can get someone better to guard her. It would help the crush go away, too. She takes a deep breath. "I... I fell in love."

"Oh. Why... why would they send you away for that?" Cady asks in confusion. "Come back, please."

Janis sits by her with a sigh. "I fell in love... with-with a girl. I've never felt anything for men."

"That's awful," Cady says. "Not that you fell in love," she amends hastily. "But you didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve any of that. You were a child."

"It would've happened at some point or another," Janis sighs in response. "They would have noticed I showed no interest in finding a husband. It probably would've been worse as I got older. I could adapt to life on the streets as a child."

Cady suddenly hugs her tightly. "I won't tell anyone else, you don't have to worry. You're staying here."

"But... why?" Janis stutters. "I'm, legally, a criminal, why would you allow me to stay? Aren't you worried I'd... corrupt you, or something?"

"Of course not," Cady chides. "I would never turn you away for something like this. I thought you had killed someone or something. Falling in love with a girl is fine, in my book. And I'm gonna be the Queen soon, my opinions are rather important." Cady decides not to tell Janis about the fact that she feels the same way sometimes. Not quite yet.

Janis chuckles. "Thanks, Cady. You're a good friend."

"You're even better," Cady says back, bumping their shoulders together. "The best first ever friend I could've asked for."

Janis grins at her. "I'm glad. You should rest, you have a long weekend ahead of you."

"Ugh, you're right," Cady groans at the reminder. She had to inform the Prince or Princes who would not be remaining by Sunday. "This is all so complicated."

"You'll figure it out," Janis says, squeezing her shoulders one last time before she stands to head into her own quarters. "Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight, Janis," Cady grins back. "Thank you."

Janis just salutes and heads into her room for bed.

—————-

Prince Shane continues to be a thorn in both of their sides. He gets his one on one time with Cady on Saturday, and spends no less than ten minutes complaining about how she had spent the week ignoring him. She hadn't, she had simply decided to give the Princes their allotted two hours with her in the same order they had arrived in. Shane just happened to be last.

Once their activity, a cooking lesson, is underway, Shane demands to know Janis' qualifications. It's clear that he thinks less of her abilities as a guard simply because she's a female. The absolute bastard. He rattles off questions for nearly the whole duration of his time with Cady, not even paying attention to the Princess or attempting to get to know her.

Janis chuckles as Cady adds entirely too much salt to their pie to get back at him, making Shane glare at her. She glares back, raising an eyebrow to dare him to try something.

Janis is tense as a brick wall by the time their pie is baked, waiting for him to taste it. He takes a large bite, while Cady barely gets a forkful. She grins coyly as he splutters at the salty taste.

"What did you do to it? Why is that so vile?" He demands. "You stupid woman, what did you do?"

"Back the fuck off," Janis growls when he grabs Cady's collar, reaching for her weapon. He glares at her, but does release Cady. She looks to Janis in thanks, her eyes wide in fear.

"Well, thank you for this, I had a lovely time," Cady says quietly and insincerely once she takes a deep breath. "If you would follow me to the main hall."

He does, with Janis between them in case he tries something again. He purposefully walks more quickly, bumping into Janis and stepping on her boots. Janis knows she can't stoop to his level, no matter how badly she wants to knock him to the ground and remove his tongue.

"Hello mother, hello father," Cady greets politely. "Mike, would you please gather the rest of the candidates here? I've made my first decisions."

"Right away, Your Highness," Mike says with a bow as he rushes out of the room. Cady goes to sit on her throne by her parents, leaving Shane to wait aimlessly in front of them.

In less than ten minutes, all nine of the other men are next to him, some looking more anxious than others at the prospect of going home. Cady takes a deep breath and stands.

"Hello, gentlemen," Cady greets, making them all finally shut up. "I'm sure you have been told, but I've gathered you here to inform you that I've made my first decision as to who will not be remaining in the competition for my hand."

The King nods approvingly behind her, proud of his daughter.

"The first and, as of yet, only Prince to be leaving us will be Prince Shane," Cady continues, prompting a dismayed gasp from him. "For truly deplorable and despicable behavior. The fact that you are handsome and from the kingdom of one of our best allies does not guarantee you a victory here. You have no right to speak to me, or any woman, for that matter, the way you have spoken to me. I pity your future spouse."

"Cadence!" The Queen chides.

"No, Betsy, let her speak," The King insists.

"As for the rest of you, please enjoy the weekend. You may feel free to explore the town or palace at your will. Our activities will resume on Monday," Cady concludes before she sits down and waves them all away. Shane glares at her and storms out of the room in a huff.

"Cadence, really, that was highly inappropriate," her mother scolds once the four of them are alone. "Whatever were you thinking?"

"He almost assaulted me," Cady says casually. "And called me a 'stupid woman', and was harassing Janis about her position, and demanded I spend more time with him than the other men, and told me to hold my tongue, and told me I should cover up more, and told me he would be under my skirts before too long. I think I was rather polite, actually."

The royals both look startled. "Cadence, why didn't you let us know earlier? We would have removed him right away!"

"It would have reflected poorly on us if I sent any of them away so soon," Cady replies. "The rule was a week. I stuck to it. May I please be excused now?"

"Yes, of course," The King says. The Queen still looks rather upset, but also nods. "Get some rest, dearest."

"I will, goodnight father," Cady says, hugging him gently. She begrudgingly hugs her mother as well after a moment's consideration. "Goodnight mother."

"Goodnight, Cadence."

————-

"God, why are men so dense?" Cady spits as soon as they're alone in her quarters again. Janis bursts out laughing.

"There's a reason I prefer the company of women, Princess," Janis giggles. "I suppose we'll never know."

Cady growls and starts pacing. "He was here to compete for my hand! In marriage! How does he think grabbing me that way and speaking to me so rudely was a good strategy? Of course I won't choose that!"

"I don't know, Princess," Janis says. "Are you alright? You looked frightened when he grabbed you."

"I... I was," Cady says quietly, stopping her movements. "I've never... nobody's ever touched me, that way. I was lucky you were there."

"I always will be," Janis replies gently. "Your father was right, you should get some rest. You have much to recover from."

"I suppose," Cady sighs. "Goodnight, Janis. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Cady. Anytime."

Janis stays up late to polish her things. She's about to turn in when she hears a scream come from Cady's quarters, the end muffled. She grabs her blade and hurries in, looking for her charge.

She finds her, pinned beneath Prince Shane, who has a hand held over her mouth and his pants down. Somehow he didn't hear Janis enter, allowing her to slam into him and knock him off of Cady.

He cries out in surprise as he's shoved to the floor, and again as Janis kicks him between the legs. "What the fuck were you doing to her?"

"That little slut doesn't even deserve me. Figured I'd at least get my chance before I'm done here, show her what she's missing," he snarls. Janis winds up and punches him between the eyes as hard as she can. He screams, "You fucking dyke!"

He punches back, nailing her left eye, and kicks her in the ribs. Janis thinks she hears a pop, and there's a sharp pain in her chest, but she ignores it. She lunges for him, pinning him on his stomach with his arms behind him. He squirms uselessly, she has him held.

The scuffle alerted the other guards, a few barreling into the room and observing their Princess, wide eyed and sobbing with fear on her bed, and Janis straddling a Prince with his pants around his ankles and his arms pinned behind him.

"Sarkisian, what is the meaning of this?" One of the other guards demands.

"This scum," Janis spits. "Tried to assault the Princess. Take him to the dungeons, let them deal with him until he's removed from the premises. And get someone to guard her window, from now on."

"Right away, soldier," he replies, grabbing Shane from the ground roughly and dragging him out the door.

"I was just trying to get what I deserve!" Shane calls as he's led down to the dungeon.

"You're getting it now, asstown. I hope you rot," Janis growls. Once they're alone she rushes over to the Princess. "Are you okay, Cady? Did he do anything?"

Cady shakes her head, but is still crying hysterically. Janis is familiar with the terror in her eyes, she's felt it herself. "H-he-he... wh-why?"

"Because he's a misogynistic piece of shit, Princess. No part of this is your fault," Janis insists. "Can I touch you?"

Cady nods desperately, reaching for her. Janis sits on the edge of her bed, grunting with pain slightly as Cady leaps into her embrace and sobs into her shoulder.

"Shh, he's gone. You're safe, I promise, I won't let anyone hurt you. I'm here, shh," Janis repeats, holding her close and letting her cry. Cady cries for a long time, weeping and whimpering into her shoulder. "Shh, you're okay now, I promise."

"He hit you," Cady sniffles once she's calmed down a bit. "Your eye."

"I'm fine, Princess, I'll deal with it in the morning," Janis says, but winces slightly as Cady brushes the area where he kicked her. Cady holds the hem of her shirt and looks at her, lifting it when Janis gives a begrudging nod.

"Oh, god, Janis," Cady sobs. "What did he do to you?"

"He kicked me, but please, Cady, don't worry. I've been hit harder, I'm fine," Janis replies.

"No, you're not," Cady sniffles. "Lie down, I'll be back in a moment."

"Cady, what-" Janis tries, but Cady pushes her down and runs from the room. She returns a few moments later with tears still pouring from her eyes, holding several bottles and cloths.

She wets one of the small cloths with cool water from the basin by her bed, wringing out the excess and pressing it gently to Janis' eye. Janis winces slightly but accepts it, holding it herself as Cady moves to her torso.

She presses around the already bruising area gently, pulling back abruptly when Janis gasps in pain.

"God, Janis, he broke a rib," She sobs again. "I'm so sorry."

"Princess, please, don't worry. I'll be okay," Janis comforts, stroking Cady's cheek.

Cady pours several of the bottles onto another much larger cloth, brushing it as gently as she can over the bruise before grabbing a dry one and helping Janis to sit upright. She wraps it tenderly around her torso to hold her ribs in place tightly, resting a hand on the uninjured side when she finishes.

"Thank you," Janis says quietly. "Are you okay?"

"No." Cady says bluntly. "I told my parents we shouldn't have done this. Look what happened. You could've been killed if he had a weapon. I was almost raped. I'm not going to be okay for a long time."

"I understand," Janis says, stroking a hand through her hair gently. "I've been there, too. But you're safe now. I've got another guard by your window now, there's no way for anyone to come in unless you want them to. And my injuries will heal, I don't want you worrying about me."

"How do you do it, Jay? How-how do you keep going, after everything?" Cady asks, lying down beside her and cuddling into her side. Janis tenses, if anyone were to walk in this would be difficult to explain.

"I don't know. I am affected by my past, more than I let on. But I just... remember the reasons I have to stick around, I guess," Janis responds as she pulls her closer.

"Like what?"

"Like... Damian. Who else would be his best friend, who else would steal extra pastries from the kitchen with him? Or like Pancakes, who else would take care of him, sneak him apples? Or... like you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Who else would keep you safe, who else would have tea with you when you're alone, who else would chase you around the gardens? You're so dear to me. I shouldn't say so, I know, but I fear I've gotten rather attached to you," Janis replies. "Sometimes it's just the littlest reason that coaxes me to stay. Like, if I left I would never see the way you fidget with your hair when you read again."

"I do that?" Cady sniffles.

"Yeah. It's cute," Janis replies as she tries to sit up. "You'll find your own reasons to keep going, I promise."

Cady doesn't let her go. "Stay, please. I don't want to be alone tonight. Please?"

Janis looks at her. She can't resist, Cady still looks terrified. "Okay, sure. If you want me to stay."

Cady nods. Janis lies on her good side next to her, and Cady nuzzles into her chest gently. Janis instinctively pulls her closer as Cady tugs her soft blankets up around them.

"I'm cancelling the rest of the event. I'm done," Cady says, muffled by Janis' chest. "We'll throw another one later. My parents will agree, after tonight."

"Sounds like a plan, Princess. We'll let everyone know tomorrow," Janis replies. "Get some sleep, I'll keep you safe."

"Okay. Thank you, Jay," Cady says as she somehow presses closer.

"You're welcome," Janis says back. She waits for Cady's breathing to even out before she kisses her hair gently and whispers, "I love you."

————-

The men are all sent home over the following week, and none of them are allowed to see Cady. She needs time to heal and recover, so she spends most days on her balcony with Janis. Sometimes they play games. Cady teaches Janis how to play chess and Janis teaches Cady how to play cards. Other times they just talk. Janis reveals a bit more about her past, and lends an ear to Cady when she needs to vent.

Almost exactly a month later, Cady's birthday finally arrives. She and Janis have spent most of the month trying to think of something to do that would appease the commonwealth, since most everyone was looking forward to a royal wedding and sorely disappointed that there wasn't going to be one. Cady decided on a trip through the villages. Just her, and almost every guard in the palace.

Her parents approved the idea after several weeks of coaxing, and only because she would be bringing so many guards with her and because they knew the people were unhappy with Cady. The commonwealth hadn't been told the reason all the Princes were sent home, to respect her privacy.

Cady is particularly excited about this trip because she's allowed to leave her carriage, for once. Council appointed soldiers to search and guard vulnerable points at certain stops along their route. Cady would be allowed to stop and greet her people at these points.

"Jay, forgive me if this sounds rude," Cady says the night before they go as she's getting ready for bed.

"Oh goodness," Janis sighs jokingly from her perch on Cady's bed. "What is it?"

"You lived in the villages before you came here. What would... what should I do, when I speak to the people? To show them that I care, and such?" Cady asks gently.

"Oh. That's not rude at all, Princess," Janis says. "I can't speak for every single villager, but I would say just to be yourself. Be kind, try not to judge them. People like when you interact with children, and the poorer the kid is the better, I would say. Just talk to them like people."

"Be kind, talk to children, and treat them like people," Cady repeats. "That was my plan anyway, so I'm glad you think that's what I should do."

"I figured it would be, it's not like you to be haughty or anything," Janis replies. "Just try not to seem too... royal. I wouldn't do anything to remind them that you control the money and things, tomorrow should be happy, they don't need a reminder of that stuff."

"Okay, I can... I think I can do that, anyway," Cady says anxiously.

"You can. Just treat people like you did me when we first met and you'll be fine. The people adore you, nothing will happen," Janis comforts. "When I was out there I heard stories all the time from other kids who had family connected here. All anyone would talk about was how beautiful and smart and kind the Princess is. That hasn't changed."

"They speak about me?" Cady asks shyly. "So kindly? I thought they would hate me."

"Some probably do, but they won't make an effort to come see you if that's the case. Everyone who will be there tomorrow adores you," Janis says with finality. The clock chimes midnight then. "Happy birthday, Princess."

Cady giggles and turns around in her chair. "Thank you, Janis. Where are you going?"

Janis is rooting through her quarters for the gift she's made. With a loud crash, she finds it buried under the mound of things under her bed. She comes back sheepishly holding the piece of canvas to her chest. "Um. Here."

Cady takes it gently and turns it around. She grins widely when she sees it's a landscape painting of the woods on the outskirts of the kingdom, bathed in snow. Janis even included Pancakes in the background. "Oh, Jay, this is beautiful! Did you do this?"

"Yeah. I was hoping it would be done by Yule but I couldn't go out to the woods very often, so it took a while," Janis says shyly.

"I love it, thank you," Cady says happily. "I'll hang it just here, I'll be able to see it every day." She holds it up just above her mirror. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Princess," Janis says, blushing. She didn't think it was that good. "We should rest, you have an exciting day tomorrow."

Cady comes up to hug her tightly. "Goodnight, Janis."

Janis hugs back just as tight. "Goodnight, Cady."

The next morning, Janis is in her uniform and fed bright and early, sitting next to a very eager Cady in the royal carriage. Pancakes has also been given a special duty for the day. He's been trained to pull carts and plows over the last several months, so he gets to be part of the team pulling them along. He looks very dapper in his fancy bridle.

Cady squeals in shock when they set off, but recovers quickly and looks eagerly outside. Janis smiles at seeing how happy she is.

Her excitement only builds when they reach their first stop. The other guards have been walking along beside them to stop anyone rushing the carriage, but they sus out the crowd and eventually part to let Cady approach the people. Janis follows at a close distance, but lets Cady approach on her own.

They have a limited amount of time to spend at each stop, but Cady reaches to shake hands with as many people as she can and even holds short conversations with a few. Everyone is delighted to see her, as Janis predicted.

Each stop is similar, until the last. The guards do their usual check and part for Cady, but almost instantly they're yelling for her to get back. Cady looks around in shock briefly and Janis tenses, but it turns out to just be a stray child that broke past the barrier to see the Princess.

Cady gasps when the small form hits her leg, looking down to see a young girl in a patched dress and her face smudged with dirt. She waves her guards off and crouches down to her level.

"Hello, little one, what's your name?" Cady asks kindly, smiling when the girl stumbles to curtsy.

"My name is Evangeline!" the girl grins happily, showing off her missing teeth.

Cady smiles gently. "That's a lovely name. My name is Cadence. But my friends call me Cady."

"That's pretty too," Evangeline smiles. "Are you really the Princess?"

"I am," Cady chuckles. She points to the castle up at the top of the hill. "I live in the palace up there."

"Wow," Evangeline says in awe. "Your mommy and daddy are the King and Queen?"

"Yes, they are, you're very smart," Cady says. "Speaking of, where are your mommy and daddy? You seem to have broken away."

"They're over there, they wouldn't let me see you," Evangeline points as she pops up on her tippy toes to see. Cady looks and finds two terrified looking adults. "So I ran away."

"Well, I'm glad to speak to you, but you shouldn't run away, Evangeline," Cady says gently. "Come with me, introduce me to them."

She stands and takes the young girl's hand, who skips happily back to her parents. "Mommy, Daddy, this is the Princess! She's so pretty!"

"Your Highness, our deepest apologies, we never thought she would have run off like that," the mother apologizes as they both bow frantically.

"It's quite alright, we had a lovely chat," Cady says happily. "You have a beautiful child. Here you are, Evangeline. You should stay with your family from now on."

"Thank you, Your Highness," the father says. "Evan, give the Princess your gift, you mustn't forget."

"Oh!" Evangeline says suddenly, rooting through her pocket and pulling out a slightly crushed crocus. They're the national flower of Evanston, and Cady's personal favorite. "I picked this for you!"

Cady takes it gently with a quiet gasp. "Thank you, this is beautiful! I'll wear it here." She tucks the flower behind her ear so it pokes out from her hair. "Good?"

Evangeline nods with a grin. Cady crouches down again to hug her goodbye.

"Goodbye, little one, it was lovely to meet you," Cady says, squeezing her tightly.

"Goodbye, Princess," Evangeline says sadly. Cady stands and makes her way back to her guards as the family turns to leave. Cady and Evangeline wave goodbye one last time before the family is out of sight.

"That was precious," Janis chuckles when Cady comes back to her. "And she was lucky I saw she was a child in time, I nearly took her head off."

"Jay!" Cady chides in shock. "Don't you dare. She was lovely, so sweet."

"I'm kidding," Janis groans. "You should speak to more people if you wish, we're running out of time."

"This is the last stop, we can take a little while longer," Cady responds. "Come with me?"

Janis follows after her as she approaches the barrier again, greeting the people waiting there. Some offer small gifts, perfumes and flowers or baked goods. Cady takes them all with a thank you and makes light conversation with as many people as she can.

Gradually, the crowd starts to clear. Janis relaxes ever so slightly now that there's fewer people around them. Until she hears,

"Sic semper tyrannis!"

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #regina george #gretchen wieners #karen smith #aaron samuels #mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls broadway

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chelsfic · 4 years

Text

Accident Forgiveness - Part 2 - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part One | Masterlist

A/N: Part two!! This is so very fun to write. I hope you enjoy! Thanks to @sabinemorans for listening to me talk about it! Reader gets a nickname in this one, because I can’t deal with Y/N.

Summary: Your wrist is finally healed after your run-in with a certain brooding freight train. You score a great deal on an adorable little motorbike and fix it up with your dad. All you want is a nice Sunday ride...what could go wrong?

Warnings: Fluff, Crack, automobile accidents...

---

The bike calls to you. It’s leaning up against a garage with a hand-written “For Sale” sign on it. It looks old, rusted, and well-used. Considering the low price scrawled on the sign you’re betting it needs some work.

You need it.

You pull out your phone and open your frequent contacts.

“Hey dad? How would you feel about coming down to the city with your pick-up this weekend?”

Your dad’s gruff voice rumbles over the line, “Sounds awful. When and where?”

---

You spend the weekend at your dad’s place in White Plains, fixing up the bike in the garage. Under the layers of rust and grime, it turns out to be a 2001 Honda Super Cub. Beyond a tune up and an oil change, the only thing really wrong with it is the body. Nothing a fresh coat of paint can’t fix.

“This is a nice little bike, kiddo,” your dad congratulates you, wiping grease and sweat from his brow with an old rag. “You gonna keep it here or ride it around the city?”

You’re perched on a tall stool at your dad’s workbench, your short legs dangling as you consider, “It’d be fun to have it with me in the city on the weekends. I just gotta convince my landlord to let me keep it in his storage shed...I don’t want to leave it on the street…”

You hop off the stool to run your hand over the motorcycle’s refinished body. You’ve painted it in a sleek two-tone pattern: red and cream. Hawkguy is going to be so jealous.

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

---

“Nah,” Clint waves you off as he unlocks the door to his apartment. You’ve been lurking out in the hallway waiting for him to get home.

“What do you mean, ‘nah’?” you whine, following him inside without asking. Pizza Dog jumps up to greet you, nearly knocking you down in his enthusiasm. You smile and give him a quick hug before starting again. “You still owe me, Barton!”

Clint’s head has disappeared into the refrigerator and he emerges with a Chinese food box and his mouth already stuffed with lo mein.

“Wahhh doo eein?!” he chews his food, swallowing and trying again, “Whadya mean? I threw you an apology party, didn’t I? You know how long it’ll take me to clean out that shed to fit a motorcycle inside?”

“C’mon, Clint! If I leave it on the street it’ll get stolen. Or it’ll end up collateral damage in one of your little superhero battles,” you wheedle. You walk into the kitchenette and grab his arm, looking up at him with your biggest puppy dog eyes, “C’monnnn!”

Clint sighs dramatically and finally gives in.

“On one condition...”

---

The bike struggles to reach 30 miles per hour under your combined weight and Clint’s massive form looks ridiculous clinging to you on the back of the little motor bike. But you have to admit--this is pretty damn fun.

“Weee!” Clint yells from behind you as you putter through the streets of Brooklyn with a giant smile on your face.

---

People are passing you and giving you dirty looks as you make your way over the Brooklyn Bridge. Well, futz them. You’re enjoying your Sunday afternoon ride. You feel like a real rebel without a cause in your worn leather jacket and the bulbous, cherry red helmet you bought to match your bike. Nobody needs to know the saddle bag strapped to the back is full of library books and a take-out container from your favorite bakery.

The sun is just getting low and it’s orange-red glow reflects on the surface of the East River as you chug along. The sounds of car engines and the occasional curse from an annoyed motorist are suddenly interrupted by a long, deafening screech. You glance over your shoulder and your eyes widen in alarm as a black SUV barrels through traffic, heedlessly colliding with other vehicles as it clears a path over the bridge.

“HOLY SH--”

The SUV screams past and you barely have time to process what you’re seeing before you’re suddenly, brutally thrown from your bike. You tuck your limbs into your body and slam into the cement with enough force to knock the wind out of you. You roll several feet before skidding to a stop. The leather jacket mostly saves you from road rash but your hands are a bloody mess and it feels like your whole middle is one big bruise. What the fuck was that? It felt almost like someone pushed you off but that’s--

You look up just in time to see your bike zooming--well, doing it’s best to zoom--away with a dark figure riding it.

Oh, hell no!

---

The red-wigged impostor is in handcuffs and leaning against the side of the SUV with a surly expression. Bucky glares at the woman, clearly connected with the Red Room and attempting to frame Natasha for the string of murders she committed over the last week.

“Don’t feel like talking, huh?” he shrugs, removing a knife from his belt and flipping it expertly in his hand. “Don’t worry, mladshaya sestra...I’ll help you find the words.”

The woman refuses to meet his eyes, fixing her gaze in the middle distance instead. Only the faintest sneer curling her lips indicates that she’s heard him at all.

Sam lands gracefully a few feet away and is already talking into his ear piece to call in backup.

“Lotta damage, here,” he states, glancing around at the crashed cars and the wrecked motorcycle. “You’re almost as bad as Banner, Buck. Think you can manage one mission without smashing something?”

“Hey, I captured the target, didn’t I?” Bucky rolls his eyes and slips the knife back into his belt holster.

Clint finally arrives, huffing and puffing after trying to keep up with the super soldier. He’s bent almost double, catching his breath, when his eyes light on the familiar red and cream motor bike lying mangled on the ground.

“Hey...isn’t that--?”

All three superhero’s heads snap up as you come limping up to the scene. You’re carrying your helmet at your side and your hair is an impressive tangle whipping around your head in the breeze. When you lay eyes on the wrecked Super Cub you let out a shriek.

“MY BIKE!!”

Bucky freezes in place, his eyes wide and every muscle tensed in anxiety.

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” he mumbles under his breath.

Clint eyes him accusingly. He is never going to hear the end of this…

You stand there looking down at your ruined bike and thinking about all the adventures you’d planned to have with her. You were going to take her to Coney Island...Rockaway beach...maybe even take a road trip to the Berkshires… Your poor sweet Cubby didn’t ask for this!

“You!” you snarl, marching up to Bucky with your hands on your hips. “Why is it always you!? Do you have it out for me or something?”

Clint snorts and mutters, “He’s got somethin’ for you…”

“SHUT UP!” you and Bucky both yell simultaneously.

You turn back to Bucky and arch your brow in expectation, “Well?”

The super-spy ex-assassin Avenger stumbles over his words, “I--uh, well...I didn’t mean...I didn’t know it was--”

“Didn’t know it was ME?” you finish for him with renewed fury. “Bucky! You can’t just go around shoving people off their motorcycles!”

“‘S hardly a motorcycle…,” he mumbles angrily. “More of a scooter if anything.”

“You! You...ugh!” you fall on him in a flurry of practically useless punches aimed at his chest. Bucky stands there looking bemused as you rain down fury with your tiny fists on his solid, immovable muscles.

“Hey!” Clint shouts in an excellent approximation of a frustrated dad voice. “Enough! Don’t do a hit on Bucky! That’s not nice.”

He puts his arms around you from behind and drags you away from the super soldier who looks--infuriatingly--unscathed.

“But he stole my bike and wrecked it!” you whine, finally going limp and dropping from Clint’s hold.

Clint rolls his eyes to the sky like a martyr.

“And do two wrongs make a right, young lady?”

“Pshh,” you scoff, shaking your head and leaning over your bike to check the saddle bag. You flip it open to find that the box containing your cherry pie has been pulverized and…

“MY LIBRARY BOOKS!!!”

---

The next morning you’re awoken by the cacophony of sounds coming from the alleyway behind the building. It sounds like Monty Python building the frickin’ Trojan Rabbit. You growl and roll out of bed, falling to the floor and catching yourself on your bandaged hands, cursing at the stinging pain.

“Stupid…’vengers...think they can do whatever they want...just cuz they save the world sometimes…” you’re muttering under your breath as you stagger to your feet and pull the cord on your blinds to look out your bedroom window.

The door to the supply shed is open and two guys are bent over your wrecked bike. You throw the window open in an instant and climb out onto the fire escape.

“Hey!” you bellow. “Uh--stop! That’s my bike! I know the Avengers, buds! And I can have them down here so fast--”

The two men crane their necks to look up at you. One of them is wearing a welding mask but the other one is definitely--

“Bucky?”

He looks up at you with a sheepish smile and gives a little wave with his metal hand.

“Hey, Kit Kat…” he greets and you frown in confusion until you look down and realize you’re wearing a baggy nightshirt you’d got at Hershey Park. It’s emblazoned with the Kit Kat logo. Even from two stories up you can see the gleam of humor in his eyes. You can also see...a lot more. He’s wearing a black tank top that shows off his impossibly toned shoulders and back. Your brain short circuits momentarily as you rake your eyes down his form.

The man beside him flips up the mask and you see he’s an older guy with a sharp goatee.

“Are we taking a social break or are we getting to work, Barnes? You know I gave up brunch to do this for you. Brunch,” the man voice drips with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright, Tony,” Bucky shakes his head and turns back to the bike.

Wait, Tony as in--?

“Hey!” you call down and Bucky lifts his head up to lock eyes with you. How can those blue eyes still have so much power from so far away?? “You still owe me for the library books!”

Bucky laughs and turns back to the bike.

“I mean it! I have a clean library record, Bucky! I’m gonna have fines!”

“Don’t push it, doll!” he calls as Tony ignites the blow torch.

---

A week later you scoot up to the curb on a side street near the Bedford Branch of the Brooklyn Public Library. Cubby has been restored to her former glory thanks to Bucky and Tony’s loving care and you give her an affectionate pat as you dismount and walk down the street toward the squat, brick library building. There may be grander libraries in New York but this is your neighborhood branch and it feels like home. You mutter and shake your head at the prospect of having to pay replacement fines for the books that Bucky ruined.

The librarian behind the desk is about your age with dyed bright red hair and a sleeve of tattoos that look like children’s book illustrations. Cool.

“Hey--um,” you roll your eyes in irritation at yourself. “I have to pay some replacement fees? I kind of...got cherry pie all over some books.”

The librarian laughs good-naturedly and pulls up your account on her computer. She asks you for the titles and frowns at her screen.

“Looks like...yeah--they’ve already been paid for,” she tells you with a shrug. “Guess you have a mysterious benefactor.”

You smile faintly and shake your head. Mysterious, my ass. You thank her and you’re about to leave when she stops you.

“Do you want to pick up your hold?”

You don’t remember putting anything on hold...but you’ve had occasional bouts of late-night enthusiasm that resulted in excessive library catalog searches, maybe you forgot...

“Uh...sure,” you say and watch as she disappears into an office behind the circulation desk.

She returns a few minutes later with a slim paperback volume in her hands. She scans the barcode and slips the receipt into the book.

“Enjoy!” she says with a smile and you thank her once again.

You glance down at the cover as you’re walking out and you let out a bark of laughter even as irritation spikes behind your eyes.

“Motorcycle Safety: Basics for Beginners”

Bucky Frickin’ Barnes...

Tags: @watsonwise

A/N: “Don’t do a hit on Bucky”-- yes that was a McElroy reference.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #hawkeye #hawkguy #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #marvel fanfic #chelsfic

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talesfromlissom · 4 years

Text

Glory Of The Moon [Part II]

Summary: As the recall has been issued, new recruits start to flood into overwatch due to recommendations, from old and new allies. However, the newest recruit seems to have an interest in Hanzo, much to Jesse’s dislike.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

“I…(Y/N)...”

“Jess’?”

Silence.

“I..I’m sorry.” (Y/N) began. “I...I’ve been an asshole, I...It’s alright if you don’t forgive me for a while.”

“No no, darlin’, I’d never do that to you,.” Jesse began. “and...I should probably try to get along with Dallas, even if I don’t like ‘em one bit.”

(Y/N) shook their head, cracking a small smile.

“Wanna hug?”

“...yeah.”

“Alright, c’mere you big baby.”

“Hold up now-”

Jesse had said before practically falling into (Y/N)’s embrace.

They planted a kiss on his forehead after brushing his bangs back.

“You...think we should go get Hanzo?”

“Mh, yeah.”

As (Y/N) and Jesse broke apart, (Y/N) came to the door.

“Where do you think he could be?” They asked.

“Ima guess he’s in that little ‘ol garden that Genji and Zenyatta built, he won’t ever admit it, but I think it's his favorite place to meditate.”

“Heh, I don’t see why not.” (Y/N) began as the door slid open. “That place is beautiful.”

──•~❉+❉~•──

As the two entered the zen garden, Jesse gaped.

“Wow, Genji and Zenyatta sure pay attention to details…” Jesse muttered.

However, a hand was placed on his chest.

(Y/N)’s hand.

“Why do I smell eastern wolves?” (Y/N) asked.

Jesse’s eyes widened as he stepped past them.

“Actually, yeah..but...Dallas isn’t a eastern, he’s a west-”

Jesse paused, seeing the water bottle on the floor.

He sniffed at it, and reared his head back.

“Why in god's name is there knock-out drugs in this thing? Ain’t this water?” Jesse then gasped as he turned the bottle.

“Shit! These are Dallas’ goddamn initials!”

“What! Jesse don’t start this again-”

“No, look! D.F.S. Dallas whatever his middle name is Starmonger! See? I told you!”

(Y/N) snatched the bottle from Jesse’s hand and examined it.

“Crap, this is Dallas’ bottle!” (Y/N) cried.

“See? I told you!”

“Shut up, Jesse, Hanzo could be seriously hurt!”

“Sorry but-how are we gonna find him, we’re gonna change any minute now!” A pause. “God, I’m already startin’ to ache!”

“Listen to me, Jesse,” (Y/N) said, placing their hands on his shoulder. “We have to find Hanzo, werewolf form or not. I can hold off my form long enough to save him, but only if you can transform, cooperate and track him down. I’ll follow you. Alright?”

“A-alright.”

“I’ll grab your serape so in case you find Hanzo first he doesn’t freak out, alright? I’ll be right back.”

(Y/N) practically darted out of the room and locked the doors to the Zen garden, only to bump into Bridgette along the way.

“(Y/N)? Why-”

“Bridgette warn Winston! Dallas has taken Hanzo captive and I think he plans to hurt him, please tell him that Mcree and I are the only people that can be close to Dallas, but to arrange a backup team in case me and Mcree attack anyone, got it?”

“You got it! Should I tell Dr.Ziegler as well!”

“Yes! Now, go, go!”

──•~❉+❉~•──

His vision was less blurry as he came to consciousness again.

He blinked rapidly, and finally came to full vision.

That’s when he gasped.

He was not in the garden, he was sure he wasn’t even in Gibraltar.

“Heya boss, he’s wakin’ up.”

Hanzo shook his head.

He attempted to stand, only to find that his hands had been chained to a pole driven into the ground.

He could easily break out of these, he called upon his-

“Looking for these?”

Hanzo looked upwards, only to spy his dragons in two square cages.

Kenji, always the more energetic and determined of the bunch, was bashing her head against the walls.

Tomo, less energetic, but still ever loyal, was biting at the cages bars.

“How did you-”

“They came out of your tattoo of course,” Dallas chuckled, as he came into full view. “While I was putting those chains on you, they tried to protect you, but since you did not call upon them, they were weak, so we easily put them in these...dragon proof cages.”

Hanzo narrowed his gaze.

“What do you want with me?”

“Well for starters, I want you in general.”

Hanzo scoffed.

“Why?”

“You're smart, think Hanzo, what has your precious (Y/N) told you about Alpha werewolves?”

Hanzo narrowed his gaze even further.

“They wish to expand their packs, and they are the only ones capable of passing on the lycin curse.”

“Very good, so you do listen to (Y/N),” Dallas then pouted. “But you didn’t listen to poor Jesse, oh no.”

There was a deep chuckle that came from Dallas, as well as more chuckling from his other pack members.

Hanzo took this chance to look around the room.

Around him stood all sorts of people.

People with scars, people in wheelchairs, some children as young as ten years old.

Men, women, people young and old.

“You see, my pack is more on the diverse side,” Dallas preached. “I don’t just bite anyone.”

Hanzo watched as Dallas made his ways down the steps.

“I find people with powerful minds, not just brute force,” He began, as he made his way towards him, the other pack members stepped out of the way. “People that have been hurt, cast out, told they were nothing. Well,I made them something.”

Dallas grinned.

“That’s why I knew that I had to make you a member of my pack. But those other pathetic excuses for werewolves were almost always around you.”

“You dare too-”

“Ah ah ah,” Dallas began, putting his hand over Hanzo’s mouth. “Let me finish, fledgling.”

Hanzo resisted the urge to spit in Dallas’ face.

“So I found things out, I knew automatically (Y/N) was an alpha, and if they caught even a wind of me wanting to hurt you, then I’d be dead meat.” A pause. “So I turned to the beta instead. I knew that if I made your cute little Jesse dislike me, it would travel back to (Y/N), and they would fight.”

He removed his hand from Hanzo’s mouth.

“I played all my cards right, and soon you were right where I wanted you,” Dallas chuckled. “I was surprised that you even believed half of the shit I said, and took a drink from me.”

Hanzo growled.

“You won’t gain anything from this.” Hanzo snapped. “Absolutely nothing.”

“I have lots to gain from this, Hanzo.” Dallas replied. “Lots. I mean, a Shimada under my command. The infamous Doom fist would cower before me.”

“(Y/N) and Jesse will come for me, and put an end to your sickening games.” Hanzo said, struggling against his bonds.

“Oh please, will they?” Dallas stated. “By the time they figure out where you are, they’ll already have turned.” Dallas then chuckled, sending a chill down Hanzo’s back. “And if I play my cards right, you will be as well.”

“You think that I’d ever join you? Pathetic.”

Dallas rolled his eyes.

“Oh Hanzo,” Dallas jeered, grasping Hanzo’s chin and pulling him close. “I never said I was giving you a choice.”

──•~❉+❉~•──

“Can someone tell me why it sounds like there’s a dog panting into your communicator?” Angela’s voice asked.

(Y/N) scoffed.

“Don’t call Jess’ a dog, that’s rude.”

(Y/N) managed to say before they turned back to the (panting) and now transformed Jesse.

The thing about Jesse was that, unlike (Y/N), who turned into a Crinos werewolf type, like most alphas, Jesse was a hispo type.

The problem was, the stronger the werewolf type, the less human you were.

Making (Y/N) the worst possible person to go on this rescue mission.

But (Y/N) was the only person powerful enough to take down Dallas.

And man, when (Y/N) saw him, they were going to beat the crap out of him.

The two came to a halt as Jesse sniffed at the ground, and let out a large howl.

In which, (Y/N) grabbed his muzzle.

“Quiet! They’ll hear us!” They hissed as Jesse whined and pulled his head away.

(Y/N) turned, and spotted an old, clearly abandoned factory.

“Angela, I think we found them,” (Y/N) said. “It's at an old factory. Just north of the city.”

“Alright, I’ll tell Winston to send a drop ship-”

“No. You have to send a small team for backup, make sure they all have silver bullets, or they won’t harm anyone in this pack. And only send them in when I tell you too.”

“But (Y/N)-”

“Please Angela, Hanzo’s...normal...life is at stake here.”

Silence.

“Alright...I trust you.”

“Thank you, Agent (Y/N) signing off.

With that, (Y/N) turned off their communicator.

“You think you can get close enough without anyone noticing?”

“Maybe.” Jesse replied, his voice coming out distorted.

Jesse didn’t speak much while in his werewolf form, mainly because of how his vocal cords were for wolves, not for humans.

(Y/N) watched as Jesse crept down the hill and onto the broken road and towards the factory.

(Y/N) went to the ground, looking through the broken windows.

Strangely enough, there were no guards, and yet, there was plenty of cars.

They must’ve used the cars to mask their scents.

(Y/N) scoffed.

This Dallas guy was a foolish alpha, probably new to it, (Y/N) figured as they slid down the hill.

Crouched low to the ground, (Y/N) met up with Jesse and nodded at them, the sign of it being all clear.

Slowly the two came to the back door and pushed it open, with a creak.

(Y/N) tensed.

“Hopefully, nobody heard that.” They muttered to Jesse as the two walked down the hall.

Eventually, they both came to the actual factory section of the place.

It seemed that this factory hadn’t been used for years.

The perfect hideout, (Y/N) would’ve said, if they hadn’t spotted two guards at a door near the end of the hall.

However, the two guards then paused, and walked off.

The two steadily crept towards the door, and slowly pushed it open.

(Y/N)’s mouth dropped.

“I’ve...I’ve never seen so many werewolves before.” They muttered as Jesse let out a whine.

“Don’t worry, I can take them.” (Y/N) responded as they and Jesse crept behind a stack of barrels.

(Y/N) slowly peaked their head above the barrels.

“There he is.” (Y/N) muttered, as they saw Hanzo in the middle of the mix. “But how are we gonna get to him?”

“The full moon won’t be covered by the clouds much longer.” Dallas began, peaking (Y/N)’s interest. “And soon, you’ll be one of us.”

(Y/N) almost growled and leap directly into the fray, but they kept their composure, for now.

“He wants to turn Hanzo.” Jesse muttered.

“Yeah, that’s why we need to get him out of there, fast.”

(Y/N) rolled over to the other set of crates, closer to-wait a second.

(Y/N) looked up, hearing a chirping noise.

They had to cover your mouth to keep from gasping.

(Y/N) spotted Kenji and Tomo in cages, hung on the ceiling.

“Jesse, how did he-”

“However, we don’t want to interrupt the main event, do we?”

Dallas grinned before snapping his fingers.

With that, the werewolves in the room scattered, filling out the room.

Soon, silence.

“I can smell you (Y/N), and Jesse’s scent is even stronger when he’s in his werewolf form.”

(Y/N) scoffed before coming out behind the barrels.

“Let him go Dallas, and I won’t hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Dallas smiled, putting his hand in his pocket. “You wouldn’t dare.”

(Y/N) widened their stance, and balled their hands into fists.

“Try me.”

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll have to use this little guy.” With that, Dallas pulled the purple flower from his pocket holding it into the air.

With that, (Y/N) could see the sweat forming on Dallas’ face.

“S-see? Now we’re both in trouble.” Dallas mustered out stepping towards them.

(Y/N) only had caught a small whiff of that flower before sweat formed on your brow as well.

“Where-where did you...get...wolfs bane…?” (Y/N) panted, falling to their knees.

They watched as Dallas managed to laugh at them, before falling onto his hands and knees as well.

“I’ve..got...friends…”

Jesse looked up into the sky, and there it was, the full moon shining directly into the room.

“J-Jesse...get...get Hanzo out of here…” (Y/N) said, starting to breathe heavily. “Please…”

“But-”

“Now-!” (Y/N) growled, and yet their voice was so much deeper.

Jesse ran over to Hanzo, pulling at the chains with his teeth and claws.

“Jesse? Is that you?” Hanzo asked.

Jesse paused for a moment, then simply nodded his head.

“Jesse, where are the others? Are they safe?”

Another pause.

“Yes.” Jesse said, as the chains fell to the floor.

“Hurry.” Jesse stated, as he pushed Hanzo out of the room.

However, two howls filled the room and the two men froze on the spot.

They recognized one, sure, but the other?

Soon, multiple howls filled the air, too many for comfort.

“Go! They have a backup team waiting for us!” Jesse mustered out as the two rushed out the door.

However, the two were met by wolves of all shapes and sizes in their way.

“Right!”

Jesse and Hanzo sprinted down the hall to the right, the large group of werewolves on their tail.

──•~❉+❉~•──

(Y/N) looked at them self in the small puddle on the floor.

(Y/N) hadn’t seen their reflection in a while.

They were still a large 7ft, Crinos werewolf.

Their fur was still the same color as their hair.

The necklaces Jesse and Hanzo gave them was still around their neck.

(Y/N)’s eyes were now a beady purple.

A growl filled their ears, as they turned to Dallas.

He was just like you, bright purple eyes, 7ft, except brown fur.

However, Dallas’ claws were much larger than yours.

But that made up for (Y/N)’s strength and strong bite.

Before (Y/N) even had time to think, Dallas tackled them to the ground, and (Y/N) knew that if Dallas managed to defeat them, not only would he turn Hanzo into a werewolf.

But he’d become the alpha of (Y/N)’s pack as well, which meant he’d keep Jesse and Hanzo away from you.

So, with that thought in mind, (Y/N) brought forth all their power to defeat this traitor.

──•~❉+❉~•──

“How long will it take for these things to catch up to us, Jesse?”

A grunt was heard from Jesse, who ran alongside Hanzo.

“Oh right, you’re a wolf, you can’t talk-”

“I can talk!” Jesse replied. “And for the record-”

“Door-!”

Jesse slammed face first into the door, letting out a yelp.

Hanzo grabbed Jesse by the serape and pulled him through the doorway.

“How long are these hallways!” Jesse cried, still rubbing at his nose.

“In here! Quickly!”

With that, the two dove into the small storage room and behind the boxes.

There was silence at first, however, the scratching of claws on the floor filled their ears, as well as the soon clicking of said claws on the tile floor.

“Jesse,” Hanzo hissed. “What do we do?”

Jesse shook his head.

“Jesse?”

Again, more shaking and growling from Jesse.

“Jesse-”

That’s when Jesse began to howl.

Soon, bone cracking and more howling and growling was filling Hanzo’s ears.

He heard the werewolves beginning to gather at the door, based on the amount of claws tapping on the tiles.

“Jesse, Jesse stop-! Jesse your drawing, attention too-! Jess-!”

That’s when the howling turned more humane sounding, and as Hanzo watched as the great beast before him shrunk down to a shivering, sweaty, and naked man.

Gasps and sputters came from Jesse as Hanzo slowly reached a hand out.

“Is it...morning already?” Hanzo asked.

Jesse coughed.

“Ngh...no…” Jesse began. “If...If you call out a were...werewolves name...they...turn back into a...human.”

Hanzo’s eyes widened.

“A...naked human I presume?”

“Yes, a butt-naked human.” Jesse paused. “God, I...I can’t transform...fuck...we’re screwed. We are so screwed.”

He said, as the werewolves carefully approached the boxes the two men were hiding behind.

#overwatch x reader #hanzo x reader #mcree x reader #mchanzo x reader #werewolf reader #werewolf mcree #werewolf s/o #glory of the moon series

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praiseyah · 5 years

Text

Give yourself a break, you're not perfect, no one is.......OR ARE WE?........

Most of us have heard the phrase " Nobodies Perfect" In fact, most of us have said it or continue to say it to this day. But what if I told you that we can be perfect? Not only because it's Biblical, but because the Most high has Instructed us to be PERFECT in our walk with him. Man tells us that "Nobodies 'Perfect" and that perfection can't be reached. But, Yah commands us to be Perfect, and tells us that PERFECTION can indeed be reached. MAN VS The Word of YAH!

In this blog, you'll get a clear breakdown of what perfection is and how Yahs servants were indeed PERFECT !!

You'll also get a clear understanding that even uttering the Phrase " Nobodies perfect" is blaspheme to the word of Yah!!

Before we begin let's get the definition of Perfection from MAN

Perfection: noun the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.

Alot of us get hung up on the term 'Perfection' but to be perfect is merely doing something right without flaws or defect, as seen in the definition above. For instance, if you wear your fringes daily as the book of Numbers 15:37-40 instructed us to do so, then you've perfected this commandment.

And if you've made sure that your fringes were made with the cord of blue and natural fabrics then you've made them PERFECTLY- Or, if you put your shoes on everyday and properly tie them or strap them, then you've managed to do that perfectly!

You see it's very easy to do things perfectly -but Man's job is to deter you from all things Yah! Because Man is Anti-Yah and a liar just like his Father satan! The Father told us to be Perfect, so that is what we need to be, PERFECT! However, man has perfectly manipulated the world into uttering the phrase "nobodies perfect" and now you're gonna see why that phrase is not of the Father, but of the adversary Satan

Mat 5:48 48 You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Now that we know Man is Anti-Yah and will popularize phrases and lies to keep us from Serving the Father perfectly. Let's see whose the Father/author or lies and confusion

John 8:44

44 You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.

Not only does Yah instructs us to be perfect- He also let's us know just how to perfectly WALK in his ways!

-1 Kings 8:61

61 Let your heart therefore be perfect with the Father, to [walk] in his statutes, and to keep his commandments, as at this day.

SIMPLE! To be perfect unto Yah is to keep his Laws and commandments and to walk in his [Ways]. Here's a few more verses stating this.

-Psalms 101:2

I will behave myself wisely in a perfect way. O when wilt thou come unto me? I will [walk] within my house with a perfect heart.

-2 Samuel 22:33

Yah is my strength and power: and he maketh my [way] perfect.

-Deuteronomy 18:13

Thou shalt be perfect with thy Father

-Proverbs 11:5

The righteousness of the perfect shall direct his [way]: but the wicked shall fall by his own wickedness.

-Matthew 19:21

Yahoshua answered, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

*Following Yahoshua is of course doing the will of Yah*

-1 Corinthians 1:10

I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of Yahoshua, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought.

2 Corinthians 7:1

Therefore, since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for Yah.

Those are just a few verses where Yah declares us to be PERFECT- Let's now take a look at how Yah called his righteous servants perfect for perfectly executing his laws, ways and commandments.

NOAH was considered a PERFECT servant of Yah ( But Man say's we can't be perfect, right?) Well, YAH the MOST HIGH, say's different!

Genesis 6-9

9 These are the generations of Noah: Noah was a just man and perfect in his generations, and Noah walked with Yah ( Again, walking with Yah without spot or blemish can be perfected)

ABRAM: Was also perfect in his WALK with YAH! ( Yah say's be Perfect- Man say's No one is perfect! Man VS YAH)

Genesis 17:1

1. And when Abram was ninety years old and nine, Yah appeared to Abram, and said unto him, I am the Almighty Yah; walk before me, and be thou perfect.

KING DAWID ( David) was considered a PERFECT servant of Yah

2 Samuel 22-24

22 For I have kept the [ways] of Yah, and have not wickedly departed from my Yah.

23 For all his judgments were before me: and as for his statutes, I did not depart from them.

24 I was also perfect before him, and have kept myself from mine iniquity.

JOB: Walked perfectly in Yahs ways.

Job 1:1

1 There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was perfect and upright, and one that feared Yah, and eschewed evil.

KING ASA: Walked perfectly in Yahs ways

1 Kings 15 : 11 & 14

11 And Asa did that which was right in the eyes of Yah, as did David his father. 14 But the high places were not removed: nevertheless Asa's heart was perfect with Yah all his days.

AGAIN: DO NOT let MAN fool you into believing that blasphemes Anti-Yah phrase 'NOBODIES PERFECT" because that is going directly against the word of Yah! And Yah said the ONLY thing that we WILL NOT BE FORGIVING FOR is blaspheming his name; Mat 12:31 Therefore I tell you, every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven people, but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven"

So be sure to watch the things you say that goes directly against Yah. You can be perfect, Ysrayl and you are expected to be perfect! And anyone who follows the laws of Yah to exactness are considered perfect as seen in the above verses.

Psalm 101: 6 Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful of the land, that they may dwell with me: he that [walketh] in a perfect way, he shall serve me.

DON'T LET THESE OR ANY OTHER EVIL PHRASES AND ANTICS EFFECT YOUR WALK WITH YAH. BE NOT OF THIS WORLD, AND 1000% OF YAH!

Romans 12:2

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of Yah, what is good and acceptable and PERFECT.

Thank you for reading Yah bless & Shalom.

http://priaseyah.com

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hookaroo · 5 years

Text

Vocivore, Ltd. (33 of 41?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1 and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE!!!!!******

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!! CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*****AMAZING AND ALSO HEARTBREAKING COVER ART!!!!! MY POOR BOY, HELPLESS AND SCREAMING WHILE HE SLOWLY LOSES HIS GRIP ON REALITY… D: COCOHOOK38 IS TRYING TO KILL US ALL!!!!*************

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

Present (Friday, continued)...

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Killian’s Master, its voice booming in the surveillance room, as menacing as he had ever heard it. Slowly, Killian lay the sword on the table next to the final monitor, raising his mangled stump as if in surrender while keeping his right side shielded from view.

“I… was…”

Sudden peals of laughter split the air as the video streams came to abrupt life. Hope as an infant, giggling hysterically at the antics of her parents. Joining her, a recording of Queen Regina’s coronation, when peoples of all realms had united in joyous support. A jubilant Storybrooke High School football team celebrating a win over their new rivals from Agrabah. The wildest group dance from Robin and Alice’s wedding reception. And then, despite never having had the chance to identify the final camera, another hijacked feed: the night when Ursula had joined the community symphony for a command performance, her regained voice simply enchanting.

The Master took a step back, shuddering and pressing both claws to its head. It was in obvious discomfort as it growled,

“How… how have you…?”

Killian drew one of the daggers from its bandage sheath, then the other. “Not such a pain enthusiast when you’re the recipient, are you?”

“Turn… it… off!” snarled the creature, taking another step toward the doorway. It shook and curled in on itself like a dying spider. Killian allowed himself a single preparatory breath before he struck.

The first dagger clattered against monster’s thick carapace, barely even nicking its immaculate waistcoat. But the second buried itself to the hilt in the creature’s thick jowls, eliciting a roar of rage and pain. Echoing its animal howl, Killian snatched up the sword, vaulted over an unconscious slave, and swung with all of his strength.

The blade bounced harmlessly off a shielding pincer, sending shock waves all the way up to Killian’s shoulder. Just the faintest of dents in the chitin hinted at the blow’s landing zone. With another yell of exertion, he lopped off an approaching tentacle. The severed end convulsed on the ground and leaked the same purple blood that now spurted from the spasming stump. Killian kicked aside the mess and couldn't help feeling a small spark of glee. To the accompaniment of monstrous shrieks, contrasting wildly with the looped positivity feeds, Killian aimed for the Master’s unprotected throat. He ducked a flailing half-tentacle and drove the sword forward in a mighty thrust. The adrenaline of the moment and certainty of victory muted every pain, leaving only focused determination. Now this demon would die.

The Master’s pincer seemed to move faster than physically possible. It shot forward to catch the blade in an iron grip, ceasing all momentum. In desperate frustration, Killian heaved his weight on top of the sword, trying to yank it from the claw. But it was stuck fast. And then the Master rose, fiery hatred blazing in its eyes. Violet flecks sprinkled its face and clothing. It straightened to its full, towering height, no longer quivering, no longer vulnerable.

Killian slipped on the Master’s blood as it wrenched the sword from his hand. He went down hard, but even on hip and elbow, he fought. The fallen dagger lay just out of reach. He rolled stiffly over, stretching, reaching…

His fingers closed around the hilt, and he felt a surge of frantic hope. But then the remaining tentacle lassoed his wrist. Before he could even struggle, it jerked upward with such force that it wrenched his shoulder right out of its socket. Killian cried out, managing to keep a futile hold on the dagger as he was hauled to his feet. Never had he wished harder to have his other hand back. Despite the pain in his shoulder and a rush of dizziness, he lashed out with the ring in his wrist, aiming for the blade still embedded in his Master’s neck.

He missed. The tentacle pulled sharply and he could do nothing but follow as his damaged shoulder instinctively protected itself. His ring was caught by the half-tentacle, which retained its functionality despite the blood still flowing. Two crab legs stabbed down atop his feet, pinning them in place. And hopeless tears filled Killian’s eyes. Now he awaited only his death. The plan had failed.

Emma would hear.

Casually, his Master used its unoccupied claw to pluck the dagger from its neck. A purple trail soon stained the cotton collar below. It inspected the bloodsoaked blade for the space of a heartbeat, barely glancing at Killian before plunging the weapon into his chest.

Killian screamed. Hope laughed. The high schoolers cheered and the revelers applauded.

The Vocivore brought the point of the sword up under Killian’s chin. It fastidiously brushed down and straightened its waistcoat before speaking, a faint raggedness to its tone giving the only hint of continued strain.

“Very clever, Tripod. Just not enough. But I will admit, you almost succeeded where no one has ever come close before.” It pressed harder with the blade, and Killian lacked the strength or will to pull away. His Master watched the tears fall, read the surrender in its slave’s eyes. And it lowered the sword ever so slightly. “You will die. Not out of revenge or hatred, for you are still my favorite Voice. But out of respect for you as a foe, and out of necessity because of the threat you still pose.”

The Master allowed the sword point to rest on the ground. “That isn’t to say that I won’t extract every ounce of energy from you first. I don’t know how you’ve resisted my will for so long, nor how you managed to hide your scheme from me. But your final hours will be spent wishing you had surrendered at the first. Begging me to end it.”

Carelessly, his Master tossed the sword at the power strip; sparks flew as it severed the cord, and the sounds of victory cut to the silence of defeat.

Quaking with shock and anguish, Killian could barely keep to his feet. He felt his Master stroke a claw down his cheek, and it whispered,

“But I’m still your Master, Tripod. And I will decide when you are to die.”

*****

Emma sat frozen, staring at her phone, silent tears streaming down her face. Waiting for the inevitable, for that final blow, the last scream, the last beat of Killian’s heart. The atmosphere was heavy with failure despite the happy moments projected on each computer screen. Neither one of the room’s occupants could hear the looped audio chaos anymore.

Jones’ face darkened with resolve. He got to his feet, closed both laptops within reach, and marched to Emma’s side.

“We’re not done yet,” he announced. Emma blinked up at him through puffy eyelids.

“You heard the bastard: it’s going to kill him.”

No ounce of hope tempered her words; she spoke robotically, as if her soul were somehow with Killian as he was dragged from the surveillance room. Jones took her hand in his.

“Aye, but there’s time yet. What do you say we put it to good use?”

Emma looked at him with such desolation that he was tempted to throw up his hands and allow her to grieve in peace. But he would never forgive himself for that… and he already had the first inkling of a plan. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Are you familiar with the Wookiee prisoner gag?”

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #wish realm killian #whump #dislocation #stabbed #failed plan #in big trouble now #operation laugh floor #OK COCOHOOK38 NOW WHERE'S MY ART #(lol j/k) don't feel obligated #but in case you have some artstage going on #i posted early just for you #Vocivore ltd

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me-and-my-gaster · 5 years

Note

the swapfell sansy boy from your au!! :D bc i wanna know More About Him!!

Ahhh! You wanna hear more about Chief? Well, then you're in for a treat! I will keep this under the cut because I’m about to ramble about my boy!!!!

My favorite thing about my own boy??? Are you sure I can pick only one thing??? I don’t think I can... but I’ll try!

He is loyal. I know this might seem weird for a person who started a fucking revolution in the first place but that is true. Despite being on the opposing side, he would prefer to spare Alphys and the Ice Queen. The first one because of their friendship throughout the years and Toriel because... well... she is his queen, and regicide was never in his mind. The loyalty goes also for his subordinates. Once being under his orders marks you as his responsibility and he would go to great lengths to keep his comrades safe and sound. Of course... he would prefer this kind of loyalty went the other way too. He values this trait in everybody and betrayal is something that would always hit him hard.

Can’t say anything about the least favorite thing about him, because well... he’s my boy! But I do have a flaw for him that I can use in this stead.

He is... extremely impulsive. For most of the time, he doesn’t seem like it, being low maintenance and chill, but when something irks him or makes him angry, he just blows up uncontrollably - you could call his temper brittle. He rarely thinks straight during his fits of temper tantrums so thankfully they don’t happen too often but... it usually happens when the most damage can be done. Thankfully he can clean up his own mess after him but sometimes it just makes things harder for him.

The other thing that derives from this is that over time, he’s way more ready to settle for collateral damage during the revolution. The faster things end and go back to normal, the fewer people will suffer, right? Probably wrong but being trapped in his role, he had to choose a tactic that fits his capabilities best. Maybe someday his temper tantrum would make the Exile (this world’s Asgore) change his mind and try to lead to reclaim his throne. Who knows?

Favorite line...

“I’m too lazy for that.”

It’s the line he says to Alphys way before the revolution starts and while he still has his hand. She was nagging him to know why he doesn’t try to become the Captain of the Royal Guard since he has everything to get this position - from skills to the ears of his subordinates. He even purposefully neglects some of the duties, not to look too good, which didn’t escape Alphys’ attention. He doesn’t want to be a Captain, despite clearly being fit for leading. This line turns out to be quite ironic later - with him being the leader for the revolution and feeling doubt about his choice back then. Maybe if he did become the Captain, none of this would happen?

Ahh, my brOTP with Chief would be him and Undies. She is like a sister to him, quite literally. They grew up together and are very close. Like siblings, they annoy the hell out of each other but when something bad happens, they always have their backs. Chief, being the main prankster in the family, usually is the one who annoys Undies the most but it’s all in good nature - it actually helps her to stop working for at least a couple of minutes. Undies, in turn, is capable of calming him down, even if it means wrangling him to the floor or holding him in the air until he tires himself. They work well together and she immediately took his side when the revolution started. Chief also goes easier on Alphys because of her, knowing that his sister has feelings for the Captain of the Royal Guard. All in all, Undies is rude, Chief is an asshole. They love each other very much.

OTP... might be hard to come up with. I didn’t think about shipping him with anybody, especially since he does everything not to get romantically involved. It’s because of his skewed view of himself - wouldn’t quite call it self-esteem issues but he doesn’t think he’s fit to be a supportive partner in a romantic relationship. He is aware of his impulsiveness and role in the revolution... and having a hook for his hand makes him think he’s unable to give a proper hug. Maybe something a good ship could fix?

Well... nOTP for one would be with Undies, that’s for sure. She’s like a sister to him and he would never think of her that way. I guess Alphys and Toriel are also out of the question, because of their indirect role in hurting his brother. This is not something he would forget and forgive. Can’t say much about other possibilities because, like I said, no shipping schemes were made for this bean.

Random headcanon time!

He loves playing cards. Really loves. His close relations with his subordinates happened just because he joined them to play quite regularly and shuffling through his well-used deck is what calms him down when he’s nervous or antsy. Somehow, he managed to learn to use the cards despite his hook, but he still struggles occasionally - it’s hard to hold your hand and draw a card at the same time.

Unpopular opinion... uh...

Well, he is, basically, a SF Sans but his core characteristics are closer to the original Sans than to the swapped one, so this interpretation differs from the usual take on this AU. He is lazy, very social and loves pranking people. He also half-asses his duties when possible, not really wanting to get a promotion and keeping his room untidy most of the time. It does change for him when the revolution starts. But that’s just the fallout of his very poor and impulsive decision. He would very much prefer to go back to the way things were... before the revolution and before his brother was hurt. Does that count?

A song I associate with him? How about... a whole friggin playlist??? I’ll pick only a few songs, because it’s over an hour long, really.

Untraveled Road - Thousand Foot Krutch

Throne - Bring Me The Horizon

Cut the Cord - Shinedown

White Rabbit - Egypt Central

So Cold - Breaking Benjamin

Lullaby - Hypnogaja

Bullets - Archive

As for the favorite picture, I guess the one where he’s all unhappy with his hook is my fave because it shows his vulnerable side a little - he doesn’t hide behind his jokester mask and doesn’t blow up in anger either.

Answering the ask thingie here.

#asks #silly things #character rant meme #whew this one is long #very long #but it makes me so happy to know somebody is interested in my revolt boys!!!!!#thank you <333 #revolt au #revolt chief #revolt sans #swapfell #tagging as swapfell because that's the closest au to this #torrikor

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annalisacoppolino · 7 years

Text

Another ACOTAR fanfiction

Here's the first episode of my ACOTAR fanfiction!

I got this idea and simply started writing, falling in love with the characters.

It is a spin off centered on the lives of Rhysand and Feyre's adult children—Suri and Aksel.

They are twins but completely different under every aspect: Suri is a great warrior who has struggled to prove her worth and become a respected and feared leader, battling against those who claimed that a woman would never be part of the Illyrian army; Aksel is an introvert person, more inclined toward the privacy of libraries than crowded training camps, though his powers are as strong as his sister's.

The siblings get involved in a troublesome situation and start investigating a series of distressing crimes against human people. They are compelled to cooperate, and to accomplish that they must overcome their differences and prejudices about each other. The peace and the future of Prythian rest in their hands as an old enemy schemes to destroy everything they've built.

As the mysterious threat comes laid open, Suri and Aksel can count on the help of friends, family and unexpected allies in other Courts; but they also have to learn the cost of being heirs to the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court; they discover the importance of love and how far they're willing to go for that feeling; most importantly, they finally start actually seeing each other and themselves for what they are, and not what they're meant to be.

I don't wanna reveal too much, so just enjoy the first episode featuring Tamlin as special guest star! Of course other characters from @sjmaas‘s series will be featured in the next episodes... and a lot of new characters too. These are the ones I’m most thrilled about.

P.S. Forgive my grammar please, English is not my mother tongue.

Suri wiped the sweat clinging to her forehead with the back of her hand, silently cursing the heat of the day. She had been agonizing for the past hours, her skin sizzling under her Illyrian leathers. She would never get used to this weather. Or the constant chirping of birds which seemed to be the natural muzak of the Spring Court. Suri had grown up in the forests of the north, surrounded by the lively stillness that such places always managed to accomplish. This woods were something out of a nightmare for her poor ears. Suri finally entered the room assigned to her, escorted by a silent servant girl. She unceremoniously sprawled on the bed kicking off her boots, and savored the feeling of smooth silk under her palms. The journey had been excruciatingly long and tedious. All those people chanting and clapping hands in an off-kilter rhythm as their wagons trudged wearily through the woods. As if the heat and the humming of birds weren’t enough. Her mother had insisted though, so Suri and her brother had offered to escort the acting company of thirty or so humans during the travel from the Summer Court to the Spring Court. Suri and Aksel were done with their visit in Summer anyway. Not that they could simply dismiss the High Lady of the Night Court. She needed a bath. A long one. For once Suri was glad to be staying at the manor, though she would usually seek a more intimate accommodation. On official visits to the Spring Court her family used to take lodgings at the manor of the High Lord. Since all of Prythian’s High Lords were supposedly at peace with each other it would have been offensive to decline such hospitality. Even when relations between her parents and the High Lord Tamlin were cordial but strictly formal, and they generally avoided being too long in the same room. As soon as the servant was out, Suri turned on her side propping her head on a fist. There was a flower perched on the edge of the nightstand beside her bed. A wild orchid. A sign of welcome. He always left one for her to find at her arrival. Maybe not so long a bath after all. Suri hastened the proceedings to make herself look more desirable, though she knew perfectly well that he would have her even covered in filth from head to toe. Rapidly searching her light packings, Suri fished out a dress she had stuffed in for the occasion. It was a flimsy thing dyed a deep hue of pink that left much of her torso in sight. She would not indulge him so easily with such concessions, but it had been so long since they’d last seen each other. She wanted to surprise him. Suri also had to admit she actually enjoyed when she caught him goggling at her. A brief look at the mirror on the vanity told her she would get just that. Her body was gloriously shrouded in a soft cloud, in perfect contrast with her firm cerulean eyes and the jet-black of her long straight hair contouring her smooth face. Now that she had changed into lighter clothes, Suri could relish the feel of the soft breeze wheezing through the hedges of the garden; a fresh balm for her flushed skin. Suri strolled to the fountain, content to find her favorite spot deserted. She sat on the edge and placidly stroked the glinting surface of the water. Suri had sort of lost track of time, when she heard her name spoken. She slowly turned her head, feeling suddenly a little guilty—and ashamed. As if being caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Brother,” she mockingly drawled. Being the first to attack sometimes worked with him, deflecting his attention. Rarely though. Aksel was always so alert and focused. That was why she considered a victory every time she got to unnerve the unflinching smartass. He was her twin brother, and yet couldn’t be more different from Suri. They looked differently, thought differently, and sometimes it was like they even spoke different languages. Where Suri was fierce and reckless, Aksel showed composure and practicality. She fed on the adrenaline of a good fight, while he nursed from his books and scrolls. Suri lived to feel alive, and her brother knew only the comfort of shadows. “I see you’ve discarded your gear. You look nice—though not yourself at all.” Definitely not misled. She had to try, even if it was against the odds that he might miss her attire. And guess at the reason behind it. “Just thought to fit in. Manners are important, as you would point out to me. I’m trying to please our host,” Suri retorted with a pantomimed chirp, not taking the bait. Aksel decided to stop the charade and went straight to the point—apparently as much proved from the journey as Suri, and not willing to play along. “I think father wouldn’t be pleased to know who your companies are these days. And—if you allow me—you are ridiculous squeezed in that dress. Is he worth your pride?” “You dare judge me!” spat Suri, abruptly standing up. “You, who ogle that Dawn Court girl like a dement.” A dry laugh came out of her mouth. “Ah! Looks like your awkward little ears are getting pinker, brother. Stroke a cord?” Aksel kept his mouth shut, reining back himself. Only the dangerous spark in his hazel eyes betrayed his annoyance. “You’re my sister—that it pleases me, or not—and I won’t stand back much longer as you play this insidious game. I thought you’d know better than to get infatuated with—” Suri lost every last remnant of her already scarce forbearance, and hissed, “It’s none of your business whom I let into my bed. Never was—never mattered! You just fear father’s scolding if you don’t tell him, don’t you?” Something passed in Aksel’s eyes, though Suri doubted it was hurt. He never bothered with her feelings and her wellbeing; he just wanted to be fine with his conscience. And please their father. “Well,” Aksel said, his voice as unaccented as usual. “You are the deadliest warrior of the Illyrian army. You certainly should be able to fend for yourself. My brotherly concern is not necessary—nor wanted.” Then he just walked away. Suri let her fuming temper cool down with the soothing spring breeze. She would not let him ruin her day. Why did Aksel always had to criticize her? As a girl Suri would have let him plant the seed of doubt as he was so thoughtful and diligent, and mother always smiled at him in a way that made her heart clench. Only father would come to her secret nest—somehow knowing something was wrong—and gently stroke away her tears, cocooning her small body in his enormous black wings, telling her not to let anyone make her feel unworthy. She was heir to the High Lord of the Night Court—the most powerful High Lord in history indeed. She would make mistakes of course—and had to listen to her mother’s words. “But sometimes it is right to follow the heart, even if it gets you in trouble,” had once said her father winking. She was well beyond questioning herself now. Right hand of Commander Cassian. Most skilled soldier of the Illyrian army—both on the ground and in the skies. Suri knew the difference between discipline and blind obedience. Her assessments needed no further inspection. Suri and Aksel would soon depart to go back to their respective duties, and she would be rid of him and his stern demeanor. Suri sensed a shift in the air, something alike the smell of sweet pollen, or the aftertaste of dew. It wasn’t specific. Not exactly something her senses could catch—more a perception. “You can come out now. He’s gone,” said Suri toward the presence lingering at her back. The man closed the distance between their bodies in a few easy steps. Suri felt his arms wrapping around her waist as his breath caressed her neck. They were almost the same height, and she became vividly aware of the hard parts of him perfectly aligned with the soft parts of herself. “You sure he would not winnow back here?” Suri let out a sigh. “He won’t.” Then she turned to face him, placing her hands on his broad chest. His heart beat at a maddening rhythm. She liked having that effect on him. Suri tried for the hundredth time to memorize the peculiar color of his hair, though she knew it’d be as useless as ever. Every time the light struck his head, a subtly chatoyant effect would apply to the reddish strands—glinting as fiercely as fire now, and flickering as golden distant stars then; they were pale and translucent in the morning, but turned a lovely deep burgundy in the evening. Suri could have been staring at the myriad shifts in his locks for hours and never catch their workings. “And if he does, you can kick him out. This is your home Keran, after all.” Keran breathed a laugh on her lips. They were closer now. Too close to miss the harbinger of hungry instincts in his jade eyes. His hands drifted down her sides, greedily grasping the folds of gossamer around her hips, and then palming the firm curve of her butt. The deep growl in Keran’s throat reverberated through Suri as her heavy breasts pressed into his chest, her arms already closing around his shoulders. She couldn’t wait anymore, and kissed him roughly. Suri was vaguely aware of his hands roaming every part of her body as their mouths, their tongues, their teeth, collided in a blind, urgent rush. Keran had to put a valiant effort to forcibly detach himself from her hold, gasping for breath. She tried to lure him back then, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. “Cauldron, can’t you keep your hands to yourself, woman?” Suri laughed at the strain in his voice, but didn’t probe further. Keran grabbed her shoulders keeping her at a safe distance—as if that had ever stopped her. He studied the front of her dress, the vertiginous plunge of her neckline. His nostrils flared. Suri knew he was staring at her exposed navel—for some reason it aroused him. “Turn,” Keran said. “Why?” teased Suri. “Let me have a look at you.” Suri totally failed to fake an innocent smile as she deliberately started to spin, revealing the nakedness of her entire back. Keran stopped dead, a strangled sound halfway to awe pushing past his parted lips. “You look like a goddess.” “Then you should be begging at my feet,” Suri said with languid but steely voice. “Get on your knees—now.” A low, rumbling chuckle escaped his lips. “Believe me, I would. But my father’s coming this way.” Suri turned just in time to see Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court, rounding the corner and heading straight for them. He looked just the same as the last time she’d seen him months ago: tall, bulky, and glowering. The High Lord, dressed in his fine practical clothes, halted but kept some distance. His long golden hair was bound in a tight tale at the back of his nape which brought out the stark lines of his face. He didn’t so much as acknowledge Suri before he addressed her with a mild salute. “I see Keran is already doing the honors. I hope you’ll join us at dinner tonight—and your brother of course.” Suri would have liked otherwise, but she said, “Surely, we’ll both be there.” “Well, we got matters to discuss.” Suri didn’t know Tamlin very well, though she heard the veiled urgent note in his voice. Now that she saw him up close she noticed that the gold in his hair had gone dull and hollow, his unyielding green eyes circled with shadows. He looked tired. “I have things to deal with, now. I’ll leave my son in charge of your every need.” Tamlin’s strong jaw flexed as he said, “If you’ll excuse me.” Then he stalked away toward the stables. Suri let out a heavy sigh and muttered, “He knows, doesn’t he?” Keran lifted a shoulder. “You really thought he wouldn’t notice his son seeking excuses to be in the Night Court, or the prized second of the Illyrian Commander showing up at his door for mundane errands?” No, she hadn’t really thought their affair to pass as inconspicuous. Suri was actually surprised her own father hadn’t taken notice of it. Her mother surely had detected the longing glances Suri and Keran exchanged from their opposite seats at official dinners. Sometimes the High Lady would even go so far as to dispatch her somewhere near the Spring Court. Suri didn’t know why her mother accepted what was between her and the son of her former lover, but now that she had seen the High Lord Suri started to think there was more behind her mother’s efforts to send her here this time. “Dinner,” she stated. “We still have a few hours before then—how shall we spend them is up to you.” A wild grin split Keran’s beautiful face. He drew near, offering one arm. “This way my lady,” he said gesturing toward the manor. “I assure you won’t regret a minute.”

Keran kissed the spot at the base of her spine. A soft moan escaped Suri's lips as she stretched, arching her back. He took that hint of encouragement, and traced with his mouth his way up till her nape. Suri felt the hair on her body straighten up, the endless caress of his warm fingers rendering her addicted to his touch—insatiable. The need was like a phoenix. It could burn through her again and again, and still, it would return. Suri kept her eyes shut, face buried into the pillow, savoring the shivers that went through her skin, to her very core. She could conjure up the look of him right now: his short auburn hair slightly curled with sweat flaming with the late afternoon light streaming in from the window; the hard planes of his muscles shifting with his lazy movements; the reddish fuzz that covered his legs and backside. Keran ran his fingers through the raven strands of her damp hair and gripped hard as he brushed her exposed neck with his tongue, flattening her body under himself. Suri reached between their bodies for the hardness pressed against her lower back. He foresaw that move though, and snatched her hand before she could get a hold. Keran clutched both of her wrists and pinned her arms higher, then rested his forehead on the spot between her shoulder blades, inhaling deeply before releasing a shuddering groan. Suri took advantage of his momentary weakness to flip their bodies and get a dominant position. Now she had him scissored between her thighs, crushing his calloused palms against her breasts. Suri was tall and lean, with strong, long limbs but not much curves, and she loved the way Keran’s cupped hands fully enveloped her round parts. Famished growls and a cold prickling announced to her the appearance of Keran’s elongated claws. He trailed them on her peaked breasts, coaxing. Her nipples stood out even more with intense ache, ripping a rich sound off Suri’s throat as she threw her head back, arching against the gentle caress of those deadly instruments. Keran didn’t give her pause and grabbed the swell of her hips pushing Suri on her back again. Then he stooped, sucking away the pain from her full breasts—and went for her throat with his bared teeth. Suri seized his matted hair in her hands to detain him, and breathed, “Not in plain sight—lower.” She could have healed the bruises of course, but wanted to keep them. It gave her a secret thrill—knowing she was marked, his. Keran gurgled his approval and started skimming her abdomen with his pointed canines. Finally, he sank his teeth in the soft skin between thigh and pubis. Suri gasped frantically, reaching for the last shred of control in those blind moments of euphoria. But he entered her then—a fluid, powerful thrust and she got rapt in the spiral of her senses. It was a savage coupling. Suri could hardly think when he took her like that. She lost track of her own limbs, only conscious of where their bodies joined—the swing of their embedded hips molding her will like a hammer on pliable metal. And just like that she was slave to the rhythm. After a while, both of them were left spent and thoroughly filled with bliss. The flesh between Suri’s legs felt satisfyingly sore and swollen. Nothing a hot bath couldn’t fix. Keran’s mouth found her skin again, nipping her jaw—tenderly this time. Suri twisted to face him, and kissed his high cheekbone. Then the spot near his slightly upturned nose where tiny freckles had been drawn out by days spent in the open. “How long will you stay?” Keran asked in her ear. Suri kept nuzzling the shaved skin of his cheek and neck while she played with the cherry tufts of his hair. She heard the hope in his low voice. “I don’t know yet. Depends on your father, I guess.” He exhaled and just murmured, “Mmm.” Suri hadn’t anything urgent to attend to in the Night Court, so she could spare a little time for a well-earned rest—if this could be called rest. At least till uncle Cassian called her back to join him in the north. But voicing the possibility felt like jinxing. Keran clasped her chin in his fingers fixing his stare on her face, and smiling mischievously said, “Then we’ll have to optimize what time we’re given.” Suri intercepted a spark of amusement in those green eyes. The eyes of his father. When she looked at Keran, though, she didn’t see any trace of the austere demeanor and restrained violence of the High Lord of the Spring Court. The man in front of her now was the bravest and kindest person Suri had ever met. Sometimes he could be a cocky bastard, yes—but gentle and caring in a way that never diminished her as a warrior, augmenting her somehow as a woman. Mother, how she loved him. Suri would not admit it to him though, or she would never hear the end of it. The sun had almost set already, leaving them shrouded in the penumbra, the whiteness of the linens their limbs were entangled with stark against the advancing shadows. It was time to get ready for supper. Suri pressed her lips on Keran’s briefly, and groaned with little will to move. She squinted in the gloom, deciding where to start. Her dress laid on the floor—shredded into bits and pieces. She would have to find something different to wear at dinner. Good.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Keep reading EPISODE 2

Notes

* When I had to choose a name for Feyre’s daughter I thought it would be cute to pay tribute to the Suriel, but then it also turned out the name I was considering was the Hebrew variation of Sarah, and it became also an homage to the writer who inspired my story.

Suri, a once obscure exotic name, hit the headlines when chosen by Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise for their daughter in 2007. It means “princess”. Multi-cultural, it also means "the sun" in Sanskrit, "rose" in Persian, and is the name of the Andean Alpaca's wool, as well as a Yiddish form of Sarah, a title used for Jain monks, and a Japanese word for pickpocket.

https://nameberry.com/babyname/Suri

* About hair and beards... High Fae, and usually faeries in other stories too, are often described as perfect, not even the hint of unaesthetic hair on their bodies. I thought that since they’re human-like under many aspects it wouldn’t be odd if they had hair. Of course powerful Fae would use their abilities to stop the growth, but some could choose not to.

Since Keran, as Tamlin, has an animal form and he’s a fierce warrior disregarding aesthetic trivialities, I wanted his beast side to show in physical features of his Fae form too.

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mazurah · 7 years

Text

Lost in Time Ch. 14: Repartee - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Chapter Summary: Ma’zurah and Fayrl meet some very interesting people in a tavern.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: T for torture mention.

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Lost in Time Chapter 14: Repartee

“Ah! My Dunmer friend, so good to see you again,” the Imperial greeted Fayrl. “I see you have fine tastes in clothing. I am surprised you managed with that small sum I offered you.”

Fayrl bowed deeply. “My thanks, sera Pavos, for your generosity. Your coin has gone far when I offered my voice in the bargain.”

“Of that I've no doubt,” said Pavos.

“Speaking of voice,” Fayrl began, his tone playful, “I owe you music for your generosity.” He pulled out the lute. “Are you free now?”

Pavos laughed. “I would be happy to hear your music. Come, I've a room over here where we might find ourselves more privacy.”

Fayrl nodded, then looked to Ma’zurah. She had just finished lecturing him about not splitting up. Yet if Pavos were interested in more than merely listening to music, he would not shy away from offering a prayer to Mephala. Who knows, perhaps he could even give the man up to the blade’s appetite. There was something familiar about Pavos and he could only assume it was that he reminded Fayrl of the Imperial agents he used to seduce for information. The man likely had enough sin that he did not need to feel guilty for sacrificing him.

Ma’zurah’s ears twitched in Fayrl’s direction and she shot him a look. She stood and walked toward Fayrl, offering the Imperial a smile. “This one greets you. This one is Ma’zurah, Fayrl’s spouse. May Ma’zurah offer you a seat at this one’s table?”

Fayrl was afraid this might be the sort of outcome he could expect. He should have insisted harder on them going their separate ways. How else was he to make coin and fulfill his mission? He doubted very much Ma’zurah was the type to want to be around for such things.

“Fayrl, you did not tell me you had such a beautiful wife,” said the Imperial. Turning from Fayrl and giving her a smile and nod in return he took the offered seat. “My name is Pavos Signas. I met your husband this morning at the baths. I am very sorry to hear about your fortunes. I offered him some coin in exchange for his music. Tell me, did I make a poor investment, or is there more to him than a pretty face?”

Ma’zurah blinked at the man, trying to figure out what Fayrl could have told him. “Oh, Ma’zurah thinks he is quite talented with music.” Just then the Bosmer bartender came over. “Welcome! Can I get you anything? We have a fresh batch of Honningbrew mead, just arrived this morning. It’s a house specialty.”

Pavos gave the Bosmer a warm smile. “Elrindir, my good friend! Please, do bring us a bottle. And a plate of that cheese you served at breakfast. And perhaps my friend here will play us some music. How about it, Fayrl? Care to share with everyone here?”

Fayrl grinned. “It would be my honor to play for you and the fine people of this establishment.” He pulled the lute across his chest and checked it’s tuning. “Any requests?”

The Bosmer grinned at the prospect of music, and traipsed down to the cellar to retrieve their mead and cheese.

Ma’zurah tried to think of any songs that could possibly be well known after almost a millennia, but discovered she didn't even know how old most of the songs she knew were. “Play something Ma'zurah has not heard before? Something new?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ma'zurah noticed the Dunmer assassin in the alcove staring at Fayrl intently, her dagger and whetstone still in her hands. Ma'zurah shifted uneasily.

Fayrl thought for a moment. “Yes, I think I can come up with something like that.”

Pavos reclined in his seat, getting quite comfortable.

Fayrl fingered the strings a few notes until he recalled the melody. “Ah! There we are.” He began to play his song. "Alma ohn jikhi'ad lo ot muhr. ohn shogahe'ag ju'okor aradir os, captu'ath hadik sudas lo. Alma ohn jihi'ad lo ot muhr. Dash ohn falme'ag lo bivi en home'ag ohn muhrid lacor ohn.” Mother you gave me a life. You knew how quickly I, consumed all around me. Mother you gave me a life. Then you held me back and told me not to be just like you. "Os e ot molag'm muhrjul, en os mola hadik as albur. Ohn abahrr molaf en dual en os ure'ag as albur malidi. Os e ot molag'm muhrjul, en os mola hadik as albur. Os e molaf en dual en os, ura muhrad yi malidi." I'm a child of the flame, and I burn just the same. You were heat and passion and I yearned the same way. I'm a child of the flame, and I burn just the same. I am heat and passion and I yearn to live my own way. "Ata ohn muhrse'ag lo juli. Ohn talje'ag yi shviyaa en, ohn oro'ag de balmara asuhl. Ata ohn muhrse'ag lo juli. Ohn balmari'ag ohn panthiihn ghar lo, shogahakam asuhm shoksuna ebahr kiohr." Father you raised me well. You saw I had gifts and you tried to concentrate them. Father you raised me well. Then you forced your gods on me, knowing their redemption was false. "Os e ot molag'm muhrjul, en os mola hadik as albur. Ohn abahrr molaf en dual en os ure'ag as albur malidi. Os e ot molag'm muhrjul, en os mola hadik as albur. Os e molaf en dual en os, ura muhrad yi malidi." I'm a child of the flame, and I burn just the same. You were heat and passion and I yearned the same way. I'm a child of the flame, and I burn just the same. I am heat and passion and I yearn to live my own way. Ma'zurah smiled softly as she realized that Fayrl’s song was about himself. The Bosmer bartender returned with mead and a plate of diced cheese and quietly left it at their table to return to his place behind the bar. Ma'zurah reached for a piece of cheese, realizing suddenly that she hadn't had any actual cheese since leaving Cyrodiil. Kwama cuttle, however much it had been processed to resemble cheese, still made poor Elsweyr fondue. She wondered where she might obtain some moon sugar. Fayrl’s song transitioned to a verse about his wife. "Daelikal ohn shogahaka lo bahr. Ohn menfi yi bulor en, ju'okor yi havganich ohn. Daelikal ohn shogahaka lo bahr. Ohn taje bahr as need lo bahrsint, ura de vivad eshtik ilu hlaghin ohn." My wife you know me not. You observe my place and how I can elevate you. My wife you know me not. You don't see the real me nor, care to learn more than yourself. "Os e ot molag'm muhrjul, en os mola hadik as albur. Ohn abahrr molaf en dual en os ure'ag as albur malidi. Os e ot molag'm muhrjul, en os mola hadik as albur. Os e molaf en dual en os, ura muhrad yi malidi." I'm a child of the flame, and I burn just the same. You were heat and passion and I yearned the same way. I'm a child of the flame, and I burn just the same. I am heat and passion and I yearn to live my own way. Ma'zurah remembered their conversation about his husband, but she realized she had neglected to ask him further about his wife when he mentioned her in passing. "Os e ot molag'm muhrjul, en os harim yi sin. Os abahr molaf en dual en os, molan hadik gher yi malidi. Os e ot molag'm muhrjul, en os ean halbere'ag kiohr bahr. Os e abahr molaf en dual en os, bahmarin yi malidi." I'm a child of the flame, and I will get my day. I am heat and passion, and I'll burn all in my way. I'm a child of the flame, and I won't be led astray. I am heat and passion, and I will make my own way.

The song ended, and Fayrl gave a small seated bow. Ma'zurah joined the scattered applause from around the room. The Dunmer assassin in the alcove was giving Fayrl a strange look.

Pavos applauded even after the rest of the patrons had stopped. “You offered me no jest in your claim to be a bard. What a lovely voice. Do you mind telling me what the song was about? I must confess, I’ve no skill with the languages of elves.”

“Oh, it is a song about the desire to overcome those who attempt to restrain you in life,” Fayrl said nonchalantly. “A silly song I wrote when I was rather young and rebellious. It seems like another lifetime since I last played it.” He noticed the expression on the mercenary’s face. Perhaps he should have played a different sort of tune. A drinking song might have been a better choice.

“Would you mind playing another tune?” asked Pavos, nursing his glass of wine.

Fayrl took a sip from his own glass. “I would be happy to play more for you, my friend.”

“Do a love song next,” the Imperial requested, “I could use the sound of a good romantic tune.”

Fayrl thought for a moment, absently playing a couple of cords. “Oh, I have just the tune.” He played a song, this time in Cyrodiilic. It spoke of a forest dwelling maiden with striking golden eyes and a tongue as sharp as her arrowheads. There were a couple of innuendos about stroking a vine or of tasting the juice from a ripe fruit, but otherwise it was a song of new love. It had all the excitement and danger that obviously came from pursuing a sadistic Bosmeri maiden. Yet the song ended with a happy ending, the singer and the maiden finding their love blossoming among the green.

When Fayrl’s second song had ended, and the applause faded, the Dunmer assassin approached their table. Ma'zurah gave her a wary look.

“Blade and shadow, sera,” the assassin began in dusky Dunmeris to Fayrl. “I find myself too intrigued not to interrupt. You wear an ancient token of the Webspinner, a practice that has not seen use since before the downfall of the False Tribunal and our people’s return to the Reclamations, so I find myself most curious as to why you have adopted the practice. You also speak our language as a native, yet your accent is so archaic that I cannot place where you might be from, and I simply must know.” Seeing Fayrl’s expression, she turned to the Imperial. “Forgive me, but I need a moment to speak with my countrymer.”

Pavos gestured for Jenassa to proceed and busied himself with drinking his wine. “Do not let me interrupt.”

Fayrl could not deny the mer was a worshiper of Mephala, or possibly Morag Tong. She had proven it now. “You are very observant, sera,” he began, pulling out a chair for her. “I am a lover of the ancient ways and spent much time studying the meticulous use of language, as well as the customs and traditions that have been lost to this modern age. I was born in Vivec, though I did much of my studies in Mournhold. How about you, sera, what is your story? Or at the least, your name?”

“My name is Jenassa. Death is my art, and like all artists, I seek a patron, though that is hardly relevant to the matter at hand. And your name as well, sera? You must be well learned and traveled to have developed such an unusual accent. It has been a long time since you had the privilege of visiting your birthplace then, has it not?”

Ma’zurah looked alarmed, but hesitated and missed her chance to speak.

Fayrl smiled. “An important art indeed, my friend. My name is Fayrl. My art is music and the knowledge of early and mid second era history. Perhaps of little use to others. I would not say I am so well travelled and learned, I have not yet seen even half of Tamriel, nor learned much of the people and customs of those living further west. Though I suppose the experience of a life with some degree of movement would naturally alter a mer’s way of speaking.”

He noticed Ma’zurah’s alarm and suddenly recalled the catastrophe that had occurred. “I was but a child when last I was at Vivec. My parents were scholars and had been searching for ancient knowledge that may have been lost. My mother was very strong-willed, not even pregnancy would prevent her doing her work.”

Jenassa glanced between Ma’zurah and Fayrl, but her face did not betray her thoughts. “She sounds like a formidable mer. What work was it that she was so intent upon doing?”

“She and father had a buyer in Mournhold, a collector of rare and ancient artifacts. My parents wished to learn what may have been lost to the ages and were funded in their pursuit by the promise of artifacts of worth recovered. But tell me, what interests you so in such matters? You come to speak to us for business do you not? Or perhaps there is something else?”

“Come now, it is rare enough to find a native countrymer in these cold lands, but to find such an interesting one? And one with such artistic talent? How could I be anything but intrigued?” She offered Fayrl a tiny smile, her first deviation from her serious mein, and her eyes flicked down, then up again across Fayrl’s form. Ma’zurah rolled her eyes. The mer’s flirting was painfully obvious.

“But if you do not mind my asking, sera,” Jenassa continued, “what lands have you traveled? It is always fascinating to hear of faraway quarters as well as news from the homeland.”

“You flatter me, sera, and offer me far too much credit,” Fayrl responded. “I am sure you are tantalizing to observe at your own art, though I must ask you to refrain from demonstrating on any present company, unless you have a contract. I wonder at your knowledge of the obscure, for you are the only one I’ve seen who has recognized the ancient symbol of one of the True Tribunal.”

“Indeed, it is not common knowledge, the ancient customs of the dissident priests to identify each other,” Jenassa murmured.

Fayrl took his glass from the table, leaning in close to her as he did, allowing his side to graze hers, giving him a chance to gauge her reaction to physical contact. He took a sip. “I am sure a person in your trade is far better traveled than I. I am only just now returning to Skyrim after having been back in Stonefalls. I have otherwise been to Cyrodiil and a few times to Black Marsh. Save those places and Skyrim, I have not traveled outside of the homeland.”

“How did you meet your husband?” Pavos suddenly asked Ma’zurah.

Jenassa made no reaction to Fayrl’s sudden touch, but did glance sharply at the Imperial at the mention of the word “husband”.

Ma’zurah blinked, and took a moment to reset her mind from Dunmeris to Cyrodiilic. She realized with chagrin that she would likely be expected to entertain Pavos while Fayrl was engaged in verbal sparring with Jenassa. “Uh… We met in a tavern. He was lost, and needed a guide, and this one offered,” she replied tersely, trying with some difficulty to listen to the ongoing conversation in Dunmeris at the same time.

“Black Marsh! I’m amazed! And multiple times? Not many Dunmer visit, what is it like? What did you do there?” Jenassa leaned toward Fayrl in apparent interest.

Fayrl recognized the signs of Jenassa’s body language. He saw such behavior only in spies and assassins, maybe a master thief. She was after something by speaking to him. What it was, he did not know, though he hoped it was not his life she was after.

“Black Marsh is far less unpleasant than rumors give it to be. The cities are beautiful and cultured, the architecture magnificent, the food divine. I would avoid traveling between cities without a guide, the climate gives way to a vast variety of organisms, which makes the cuisine bountiful, but the pests and territorial beasts of the swamp are also numerous. Still, it is very much worth a visit.”

Fayrl reached into his pouch and retrieved a prayer slip, one out of a book of them he had for when he visited the holy places of the Tribunal. He took her hand and slipped it inside, still holding onto it as he spoke. “Since you have such a keen interest in history, here is an ancient prayer marker, like the ancients used to use on their pilgrimages to the Daedric ruins and temples of the True Tribunal during the reign of the false one. Mother tells me this one is dated sometime in the mid second era, though it is hard to tell. It was sealed magically within a chest and thus had no signs of age.”

He wanted to see if it was artifacts she might be after. If such was the case, then it would be easy enough to get rid of her.

Jenassa reacted instantly when Fayrl took her gloved hand, wrenching it away. Quicker than anyone at the table could react, she had a knife in her hand, with its point hovering just above Fayrl’s neck. She retreated after a tense second, but did not re-sheathe the blade. “Apologies, sera. I am unused to sudden contact with liars.” She smirked at Fayrl and Ma’zurah’s sudden expressions.

“Yes, liars. You are not from Vivec,” she continued in low, calm Dunmeris. “You hardly look a hundred and fifty, much less the two hundred or so years you would need to be to be able to make that claim. You obviously have something to hide. Don’t think I missed that little exchange between you and the Khajiit. You use odd wording, and you don’t know the generally accepted names for things, like the Reclamations. And of course we still use prayer slips. What Morrowind native doesn’t know that? Additionally, what kind of a historian gives away an artifact, if it is even an artifact, that that is a millennia old?” Jenassa shook her head.

“Furthermore, your accent is not from Vivec, or from travel. I could not place it at first until you mentioned the second era, and then I realized it was just like one of the plays I saw in Mournhold depicting the Three Banners War. Nobody talks like that anymore. And finally, nobody just travels to Black Marsh--not since the invasion and the sack of Mournhold. So this time don’t lie. Who are you really, and where did you come from?”

Fayrl laughed, not making any apparent move to protect himself or react in any way to her threats. “My, my, my. Such a quick temper. I see no need to threaten anyone here,” he said, voice as calm and straightforward as someone discussing the weather. “After all, I just got this tunic and I would be very sad to see it stained in your blood. And I assure you, it will be difficult for you to find the antidote if you dispatch me.” He let the tip of the hairpin in his hand tap the space between the plates of her armor, just at the right angle to puncture a kidney.

Ma’zurah glanced rapidly between the two assassins, and rubbed her forehead, muttering a soft curse in Ta’agra. She stole a look at the wide eyed Imperial across the table out of the corner of her eye.

Jenassa only laughed at the revelation of Fayrl’s subtle defense and sheathed her blade. “I salute you as a worthy opponent, sera. I knew there was more to you than a historian bard. I assure you though, my service in the Morag Tong has built my immunity to poison quite high, and I doubt you could find a poison beyond my abilities to cure, unless you really are from the second era like that accent you’ve put on. Now, the truth, if you please.”

Fayrl leaned away from Jenassa and put the pin back into his hair and took a seat in Pavos’ lap to distract him from the scene unfolding. He needed to keep the man interested in him for later purposes anyhow.

“Morag Tong. That explains a few things. I am glad to hear they are still thriving. Still, I don’t know that I owe you any truths any more than you owe them to us.” He settled back against Pavos’ chest as the man struggled to adjust to the weight of a mer in his lap.

He patted Pavos’ cheek. “You’re such a dear.” Pavos stuttered, and Fayrl belatedly realized the error of touching the Imperial. He had managed to avoid doing so at the bathhouse. But now, he felt the flood of the man’s deeds come to his mind. He stifled them as best as he could, fighting back the pain and emotions that came with the memories. His senses were filled with the overwhelming odor of blood, the sound of screams in his ears, the taste of iron and bitter poison. He felt nauseous. There was so much blood.

Jenassa blinked at Fayrl, suddenly reading incongruous emotional states, where previously there had been control. She pretended not to notice. “All in Morrowind know that the Morag Tong are but a shadow of their former self. It is why I left. One can hardly practice art where there is no demand. But your wording betrays you again, sera. From where do you hail? How came you to be here? Did your companion accompany you from thence?” Jenassa nodded in Ma’zurah’s direction. “Certainly you owe me no truths, but as I am at loose ends for anything of more interest to occupy myself, and find myself quite bored, I propose a trade. Truths for truths, if you will.”

Ma’zurah noticed Fayrl’s apparent distress and quickly addressed Jenassa in accented Dunmeris to divert her attention. “What kind of truths do you offer?”

Jenassa turned to Ma’zurah, blinking at the sudden conversational interruption. “Any kind of truth you wish, sera, so long as I know the answer, and it does not violate any confidences placed in me.”

Ma’zurah glanced at Fayrl. “That seems adequate, so long as Ma’zurah and Fayrl may have the same terms, and Jenassa agrees to hold information received in the strictest of confidences unless otherwise specified. Each question traded for one question, both answered to the asker’s satisfaction so much as can be given in good faith. Is that acceptable?”

Jenassa nodded slowly.

Fayrl placed a hand on Pavos’ thigh and wrapped an arm around his neck to steady himself. He could see what this man had done for the sake of the Empire. An excuse to do unspeakable deeds and then claim it was in the Empire’s name. He felt the girl’s pain as Pavos interrogated--more like tortured for the pleasure of his sadism--a girl of no more than 14 years of age. How he butchered her slowly cut by cut while she lived, demanding she give information on a woman he suspected of working against the Empire. Treason, he claimed was the girl’s crime as well, the justification for her suffering, because she lived next door. He refused to take her cries that she did not even know the woman’s name, they were only neighbors a few months and the woman never spoke to her. But Pavos ignored her words, convinced that she must know something, anything, to help him. That if she did not, it was only because she was a traitor herself, although he was enjoying every moment of harming her.

And she was not the only one Pavos had tortured like this, nor the only one he had killed. Pavos also enjoyed the simple, quick kill. How many innocent lives had Pavos cut down because it was just easier than having to plan ahead? The number was too overwhelming for Fayrl to keep track. Pavos had often foregone any real cover as a spy and instead gone into every situation planning to kill anyone who saw him. Bar maids, blacksmiths, beggars, merchants, innkeepers, children playing by the road. If they looked at him or spoke to him, he killed them. Because it was easier! It made Fayrl’s blood boil.

Pavos looked worriedly at Fayrl. “What are you--”

“I just feel a bit lightheaded, must be the wine. Do you mind just letting me rest a moment, my friend?” asked Fayrl.

Pavos looked towards Ma’zurah to make sure that he would not offend her. “Well, I certainly do not mind.”

Ma’zurah looked concerned. “Oh! Ma’zurah knows some spells that can help!” She half stood and reached a hand out to Fayrl.

Fayrl could see what was happening. He did not like it. “I think it will pass naturally. Just give me a moment, dear.” He leaned back against Pavos’ broad chest. If he was going to leave his new comfortable position, he was going to enjoy it for a moment.

“It would not hurt to try… Ma’zurah is worried…” Ma’zurah stood and walked over to Fayrl and felt his forehead. He did not feel any hotter than was usual for Dunmer. “You had better not be getting sick!”

Fayrl did not understand why she was being so insistent. Was she jealous? “I am sure it is fine. Why don’t you ask your questions of the lovely mer here while I let myself rest a moment.”

“Well… Alright. Ma’zurah is not going to heal Fayrl if he does not want her to…” She sat back down.

Fayrl smiled sweetly at Pavos. “I wonder, my dear friend, is there a way you might help get me to a place I might lie down for a while? I would be ever so grateful.” He ran a hand over Pavos’ chest.

Pavos stood, lifting Fayrl in his arms. “You can lay down in my room for a while.”

“Would you keep me company for a bit?”

“I’d be glad to,” said Pavos and carried Fayrl out of sight of Ma’zurah and Jenassa.

Ma’zurah turned to Jenassa. “Alright, it looks like you will have to talk to Ma’zurah, if that is alright,” she continued in Dunmeris.

“Fine, would you care to move to my table? We can have more privacy.” The pair headed to Jenassa’s alcove and seated themselves.

End Notes:

Fayrl’s song: https://soundcloud.com/song-book-of-fayrl-indoril/molagm-muhrjul

Fayrl’s tumblr: @talldarkandroguesome

Screenshot of Fayrl Screenshot of Ma’zurah Check out my art tag for more pictures of Fayrl and Ma’zurah.

Constructive criticism is welcome. We also really like it if you leave comments on Ao3.

#TES #Elder Scrolls Lore #Skyrim #ESO #Morrowind #My Writing #Fanfic #Lost In Time TES Fanfic #Fayrl Indoril #Ma'zurah the Khajiit #Rated T

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imgilmoregirl · 7 years

Text

Vowed For Eternity (Chapter 14)

AO3 Link

Still

It took Rumple everything he had to not come back to Belle’s chambers five minutes after he left. His heart was beating madly fast, it felt hard to think straight and he sat in his laboratory for a long time simply facing the walls and remembering about the things his wife said to him before he left. If she didn’t hate him before, then she certainly hated him now, which made him remember that he still had a strand of her hair between his fingers.

The imp made flourish and an empty bottle appear, dropping the strand inside there and picking one from his own hair, letting it enlace with hers before he allowed his magic to work. Rumplestiltskin watched with wide eyes as the strands started to glow purple, proving that what he felt for Belle was more than a simply temporary passion, it was true and it was mutual.

A sob erupted from the back of his throat. He had ruined his True Love’s life, overshadowed her light, being cruel and heartless with her and now he regretted it with all of his soul, but it had no coming back. Rumple imagined that she should be still laying in her bed, weeping while the pain rip through her body, knowing that in the end there would be nothing to be happy about.

His greatest wish was to stay by her side, but he was going to respect her will and let her go through this alone, then Rumple would heal her and send her away, so he could make sure that he wasn’t going to be the cause of any suffering in her life again. The Dark One grabbed a parchment, wrote a quickly note in it and rolled the paper down, summoning a bird to send it.

Finding it impossible to keep another minute in that lab, just waiting for the inevitable, Rumplestiltskin decided that he should prepare everything, so Belle could leave to her father’s castle as soon as possible. He used his magic to transport himself to his mother’s room at the secret tower, finding her looking even worse than the last time he had appeared there.

"Hello, my son," Fiona said with a weak smile.

"I came here to make a deal with you."

"A deal?" She inquired arching an eyebrow for him. "You want to make a deal with me?"

As surprising as it sounded for her, it was twice as unexpectable for him, but Fiona was one of his most valuable paws and her magic was blocked, so he knew that she would do anything to gain it back and now, there was something he wanted her to do that might be worth exchanging for her freedom.

"Yes," the imp confirmed. "It's very simple. I'll free you, but you will serve Belle as her maid until she follows with her life, then you can go away to wherever you want."

Fiona blinked, stupefied and confused.

"What do you mean with follow with her life?"

"If she gets married again or if she decides to travel, or whatever she wants," he explained, with a painful sigh. "I'm sending her back to her father."

It was clear in his mother’s face that she didn’t understand what he was intending to do, and if he was being positive, Rumple could even say that he found traces of concern in her young face.

"Why?"

"The child she was expecting is dead," he confessed.

"Oh, Rumple - "

"Don't," the Dark One, warned, knowing that her words couldn’t possibly make him any good. "Do we have a deal or not?"

Her pale lips tightened in a thin line, her brown eyes scanning his face with pity, because she knew that even though he was trying to hide his feelings behind the many walls he created around himself, it was still very clear that it was hurting him. And Fiona knew the pain of losing a child. She was aware that it never truly healed no matter how many time passed.

"We do," she murmured.

"I'll come back to free you,” Rumplestiltkin nodded, “once Belle is strong enough to walk again."

He had barely started to lift his hand up to vanish from there when Fiona made a sudden move, approaching the bars as much as the chains that linked her cuffs with the floor, allowed.

"Was it a boy?" His mother asked.

"I don't know, I haven't seen it. Belle expelled me from her chambers just a while ago. I don't even know if the baby is already out."

"Go stay by her side."

Oh, she had no idea of how much he wished he could do so, but his wife strictly said that she didn’t want him any near to her, that she didn’t even wish him to see their child.

"Belle doesn't want me there," Rumple whispered.

Shaking her head, Fiona seemed to be fighting against tears. There was a strange shine in her eyes that remembered him a lot of the reflection of unshed tears about to fall.

"Of course, she does. She is angry with you right now, but Belle needs someone to hold her hand and give her a shoulder to cry," his mother advised. "Stay with your wife, Rumple, or you might never forgive yourself."

Swallowing, he needed to admit to himself that she right. The Dark One would only be a greatest coward if he didn’t take the risk and stood by Belle in this moment. And the grief wasn’t only hers, it was his too and he would see his child even if just for once.

Rumple was about to leave, when he glanced back to Fiona and added: "You were wrong. We are True Love, after all."

Between her sobs, Belle felt her body start to ache, she muffled her cries of pain against the pillow, the sheets beneath her getting wet with blood and other fluids. A pressure started to push, bringing the baby down and she allowed the tears to fall free from her eyes as she made the needed efforts to help the child to slip off of her body, all alone in that room, only the echo of her screams as a company.

Then, when she exhaustedly picked a towel and wrapped the tiny baby around it Belle felt like someone was smashing her heart tightly. It didn't move, nor breathed, it was like holding a doll, but a heavier and warmer one. A darling baby girl. Belle brought her close to her chest cradling that perfect small being and just wishing there was life in that body.

"Oh, you are beautiful. So beautiful," she murmured for her daughter, her tears falling to the towel. "Give mama a cry, please? Just a little breath, maybe?"

But there was nothing. Belle felt empty now and the child in her arms was lifeless. Her shoulders were shaking with sobs as she started to mumble a lullaby, running her fingers through her daughter's little arms, spotting her own skin with blood. She was so distracted that she didn't notice when a purple cloud of smoke brought Rumplestiltskin to the chambers.

His breath got caught on his throat when he glanced at her in the bed. Belle was a mess, sweat covering her skin and damping the hair near her face; at some point she should have managed to stand up and took off her dress because now she was only wearing a long-sleeved nightgown, which's lower part was covered by blood. The imp could see the remains of the birth resting in the dirty bedcovers in the space between her legs, but what made him gasp a little was the vision of a fluffy bath towel wrapping some pinkish think in his wife's arms.

"Belle," he almost sobbed. "Oh, sweetheart..."

She quickly glanced at him, but seeming to be bewitched by the dead baby, her eyes turned back at it after just a short instant. The white cord still linked the baby to the mess in the bed and Rumple approached his wife making a scissors appear in his hand right before he picked the cord and let it to cut, but he stopped when the Dark One received a wild, angry glare from Belle.

"It's alright, it won't hurt," he told her in a low tone before finally making the cut and waving his hand to let it all disappear, leaving her in a clean bed with clean clothes and clean skin. "See? Now that mess is gone. Do you allow me to sit by your side?"

Her nod was very slightly and one without his perception could have missed it, but Rumplestiltskin didn't, so he slid to her side, passing an arm around her shoulders and taking a first real look at his child. It was rather small, has its eyes closed and almost no hair on the top of its head.

"You know, your fears were useless," Belle said bitterly. "It's a girl."

"My darling Belle, I'm sorry," he answered, eyes filling with tears and voice sounding weak. The imp conjured a cloth damp with water and gave it to his wife. "Here, clean our wee one."

Taking it from him, Belle slowly ran the cloth through their daughter's face, taking the blood away and leaving her with a cream coloured skin do show to them.

"She is sleeping, you see?" Belle asked, almost delusional. "Such a good baby girl."

His poor beloved wife was letting the madness of the moment take her and he wished that he could do something, anything to fix this. She was right all the way, his fears were stupid and he lost the joy of seeing her truly happy while the baby still lived.

"Are you feeling well?"

"I feel nothing at all," Belle replied.

"Can I hold our daughter?"

Her big blue eyes blinked for what seemed to be the first time ever since he appeared in room and she directed her narrowed gaze to him.

"Why would you want to do this? You never wanted children."

"I was a fool," Rumple immediately said. "I love her too, Belle."

The girl sighed, but he was touched to hear those words coming from him so she decided that he really deserved a second chance and lifted the small bundle to lay it in his unskilled arms.

"Be careful," Belle bounced.

A bittersweet smile spread through Rumplestiltskin's lips when he felt the light weight of his daughter's body in his arms. Such a perfect little thing, lucky enough to not inherit his awful looks.

"The tiniest baby I have ever seen," the imp whispered to his wife. "She would be beautiful like you."

Belle worried at her lip and couldn't help herself but to ask: "How long does it take for them to breath after they are born?"

"They need to breath immediately, don't give yourself any hopes."

"But your magic could awake her, right?" She insisted. "You could make her move and cry and..."

"Belle," Rumple interrupted her, "magic always has a price and reliving the dead is something out of my reach."

It probably was panic that was growing cold inside her chest making it difficult to breath. Belle was waiting for a miracle or a magic solution that could make her child open those little eyelids and test its lungs, but deep down she knew that it wasn't going to happen. But at each passing second it only got more concrete and she felt like she was dying slowly.

"Give her back to me," the girl demanded. "I want to hold my baby."

"Sweetheart, you should rest and let me take her away."

"No," Belle stated, taking the baby from her husband and cradling her gently. "She is mine and you won't do this."

"Belle, please, my love I know that it hurts, but it's time to let her go."

Her lower lip trembled and new tears fell from her eyes, falling directly to the baby's face.

"She doesn't even have a name," Belle murmured.

"Would you like to name her?"

"Colette," she pronounced. "Because my mother will take care of her for me now."

"Aye, they will be together."

Rumplestiltskin finally got to take the baby girl from his wife's arms and she pressed a kiss to her own fingers, laying them on Colette's temple next.

"Mama loves you very much, my darling."

"Yeah," the imp agreed, "and papa loves you too."

Belle curled herself in ball under the bedcovers, still weeping a little, however without strength to do anything but let the tears fall silently from her eyes. Rumple came back after some moments, with a tray on his hands.

"I brought a tea for you," he offered, but she shooked her head, letting him know that this was the last thing she wanted.

"Where is Colette?"

"In the laboratory," the imp explained. "I'll bury her later."

He slipped to the bed at her side, pulling her closer and hugging her from behind, one arm wrapped around her still swollen belly.

"Can you put roses on her grave?" Belle asked.

"Yes, anything you wish."

Then, they slept in each other's arms.

She woke feeling sore in the next day. Everything hurt, but mostly her head and spine, and when she groped the sheets by her side in an attempt to find Rumple's warm body, she found the bed empty an immediately sit up, finding him sat by her desk.

"How are you feeling today?" He asked.

"I would like you to stop asking me this, when you know that I'm clearly not fine?" She returned, harshly moving out of the bed and going to the closet just to find it empty. "Where are my dresses?"

"I packed them," Rumplestiltskin answered.

He should be kidding, she thought, but there was nothing in sight but the gown he made appear in the bed for her. Belle grabbed the first layer and started to put it on.

"Packed?"

"I've sent a letter to your father yesterday," he said. "There is a retinue outside to pick you."

And that was how it ended. She should have seen it coming, but at this point Belle didn't know what to expect from him anymore. Gods, she had just given birth to his child and he was already expelling her from his home, he wouldn't even wait to show her where the baby was buried, he simply didn't want to see her anymore.

Thinking herself to be a fool, Belle kept dressing, fighting against the tears.

"You're sending me back," she concluded aloud. "Sure, why would you want me after all? Now I look like a swollen pig, so you couldn't desire me, my child is dead and I probably never even stand my company."

Rumplestiltskin didn't even know how she could assume that. He loved her so very much and that wouldn't be a day in which he didn't desire her, not even now that she was still very affected by her pregnancy. She was still beautiful to his eyes, but he wasn't going to ruin his plans by telling her this.

"I'm sending a maid with you," the imp said, instead.

"I don't want anything you can possibly give," Belle replied, closing the laces of her maternity bodice, since none of the others would ever fit now.

"I know, but you'll take it anyway, because I've already sent her to your retinue."

"Alright," she shooked her head angrily. "I just... I never thought you would break a deal. We made a vow for each other, one that linked us for the whole eternity."

His eyes fixed on hers but he didn't stand up to reach for her touch like he wished to do.

"Sometimes eternity lasts shorter than expect," Rumple muttered. "It was good to know you, Belle. I'll never forget about what we had."

"Well, I pray for the gods for them to allow me to forget," she answered, her eyes becoming watery again. "The only thing related to you that I want to remember about is my daughter's face. Goodbye Rumplestiltskin."

Turning around, Belle left the room, heading out of the Dark Castle, knowing that she would probably never see that place again.

#rumbelle fic #gift fic #mine #writing #rumplestiltskin #belle french #rumbelle #dark castle #ao3

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