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maddieautobot273 · 8 months ago

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When I Am King, You Shall Be Queen - Silk & Cologne Cinderella AU

An AU fanfic set in the S&C universe - link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 1: There was a girl

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female OC Spidersona!

Words: 2.1K

Warnings: PG for character death.

Summary: Dive into this alternate universe where Lisa and Miguel's lives are a classic fairy tale.

//////

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Lisa. She saw things not how it was, but how it could be, with a little bit of music and magic. Her parents only seemed to influence that mindset, and to them, she was a princess.

Sure they didn’t have an actual royal title, or a castle, but they were the rulers of their own little kingdom. They lived in a cottage estate at the edge of the forest across town, where their family lived for generations. Starting as farmers and merchants, they raised animals and grew crops until in recent years they had branched out and found their own musical talents.

They still keep the animals, as they are part of the family, of course!

“Now, now, Ms. Hen, save some for the rest of us!” a young 7 year old Lisa laughed as she tossed some food out to the chickens, watching as the mother hen swooped in and snatched some extra crumbs.

“The coup causing trouble again?” A voice called out to her, and Lisa turned, the skirt of her pink spring dress twirling as she laid eyes on a woman with long curled brown hair and sparkling green eyes.

“Momma!” Lisa cheered as she set the bag down and ran for her mother. “How was rehearsal today?”

Her mother, Lady Kendrick, was a well known opera singer, deemed the best in the kingdom, and her father, Lord Kendrick, was an aspiring composer. Lisa from a very young age aspired to follow in their footsteps.

“Oh it was so much fun!” Lady Kendrick exclaimed as she knelt down and caught her child in a hug. “I was practicing one of your fathers songs.”

Lisa’s eyes beamed excitedly before a loud ‘CAKAW!’ noise caught her ear as she turned to see some of the chickens startle, losing a few feathers as a young, strongly built man narrowly avoided stepping on them. “Nugget, Clucky, don’t scare Mr. Stacey like that!”

George Stacey, or Mr. Stacey, as Lisa called him, was one of the staff that worked and helped keep the estate running. He was our estate’s guard, or loyal knight as Lisa imagines him, but when he wasn’t patrolling and protecting their kingdom from intruders, he was helping feed the animals.

“Are you alright, George?” Lady Kendrick called out to him.

“I’m fine!” Mr. Stacey laughed in relief as he set a bag of seeds down. “I don’t know how Lisa compels them to listen to her.”

“How’s the Miss’s?” Lady Kendrick asked him.

“She’s due any day now.” Mr. Stacey smiled proudly as he kept feeding the chickens. “Fingers crossed it's a girl.”

Lady Kendrick smiled brightly at their family friend.

“Do you truly think they can understand you?” Lady Kendrick asked Lisa as she turned back to her daughter.

“Do you, mother?” Lisa asked in response, a curious glimmer in her eyes.

“Oh, yes, I think they can understand and speak to us.” Lady Kendrick smiled brightly. “If we only listen to them. It’s how’ve looked after them.”

“But if we’re looking after them, who looks after us?” Lisa asked curiously as her mother sat down at the steps and pulled Lisa into her lap.

“Why Fairy Godmothers, of course!” Lady Kendrick booped Lisa’s nose, making her giggle. “They watched over me, and they’ll watch over you too.”

“Well, if you believe in them, I will too!” Lisa laughed with a proud smile.

Lady Kendrick invited Lisa back inside where they ventured to the hobby room where Lisa began her private dance lessons for the day. Her mother always helped her practice whenever she didn’t need to go out into town. Lisa was learning the waltz when the bells chimed from their small bell tower and Lisa’s eyes lit up as she shared an anticipating glance with her mother.

The ringing of the bells could only mean one thing.

“Papa’s home!” She cheered as she sat up from her mother’s lap, and bolted into the house.

Lord Kendrick was often called away to perform abroad. His music and fame were slowly becoming well known in the far reaches of the globe. Despite being overly proud of his success, Lisa always missed her father terribly when he was away, so it made their reunions all the more sweeter.

“Lisa! Janet! Where are my girls?” A happy-go-lucky voice called out from the front courtyard of the house as Lisa pulled the heavy door open.

Emerging from a carriage was Lord Kendrick, dressed in a fine navy blue suit with matching gray trousers and black leather boots. With tousled black hair and bright brown eyes, as soon as his gaze landed on his daughter, he knelt to the ground and greeted her with open arms.

“You’re back!” Lisa cheered as she jumped into his embrace.

“Oh, I missed you terribly, my sweet!” Lord Kendrick laughed as he stood up to his feet and spun her around.

“Where did you go this time?” Lisa asked him as he set her down gently on the edge of a fountain.

“Oh, the city of Rome. It was beautiful, you’d absolutely love it there.” Lord Kendrick grinned, a charming smile on his face, one that would rival that of a prince or even a king.

“Can I come with you next time?” Lisa pleaded excitedly.

“I’m afraid only when you’re a little older.” Lisa pretended not to notice as her father’s coach man snuck something into her father’s hand before he quickly hid the object behind his back. “But I hope this surprise compromises for that.”

Her father knelt down as he whipped his arm out, handing Lisa a beautiful crafted box. “What is it?” she asked.

“Open it, and you’ll see.” Lord Kendrick smiled, encouraging her.

Lisa carefully turned the lock before pushing back the lid and was elated when music started playing from the box. Spinning on a small dial was a miniature figurine of a prince and princess dancing together.

“Lavenders blue, dilly, dilly

Lavender's green

When I am king, dilly, dilly

You shall be queen

Who told you so, dilly, dilly

Who told you so?

'Twas mine own heart, dilly, dilly

That told me so~”

Lisa listened to the melody carefully and her lips curled into a bright smile before she glanced up at her father. “That’s the song you wrote for mother!”

“You like it?” He asked her, eyes beaming with pride.

“I love it!” Lisa exclaimed happily.

“In Rome, they call the music box, carillon.” Lord Kendrick explained with an admiring gaze.

“Carillon.” Lisa repeated as her father applauded her.

“Very good!” Lord Kendrick stood up, before suddenly standing up. “Have you been practicing since I’ve been gone?”

“My Italian or my dancing?” Lisa responded back with a soft chuckle.

“Both!” Her father grinned before offering her a gracious bow. “Mia signora, posso avere questo ballo?” - My lady, may I have this dance?

“Sì, mio Signore!” Lisa stood up from the fountain, offering her father a courtesy.

The two danced together to the melody of the music box as Lady Kendrick looked on fondly from the front door.

All that was, was as it should be. They were considered the happiest of families to love each other as they did so. But darkness could come to any kingdom . .

////////

11 year old Lisa sat nervously in her chair in the main foyer of the estate, sitting next to the door leading into her father’s study. She fiddled with the music box her father gave her in her hands, debating whether or not to open it as she didn’t want to disturb them in the other room. But she needed something to try and calm her nerves as she waited, and she had done a lot of waiting.

Last night after putting her to bed, her mother suddenly collapsed, becoming very weak. Lord Kendrick urged Mr. Stacey runs into town and brings back a doctor, and fast. Everything after that for Lisa was a blur, her mind blank as she barely got a wink of sleep after that.

It was the wee hours in the morning, and the sun had just started coming out by the time the doors suddenly pulled open. Lisa jumped in her chair, setting her music box aside before looking over to see the doctor emerge with his bag, her father trailing behind him. The doctor gave Lisa a sympathetic look with a firm nod, and Lisa knew something terrible was happening.

She may still be learning the ways of the world, but she couldn’t tell when bad news was brewing, and it was only then did Lisa realize that other members of their staff were anxiously awaiting in the main room.

“Thank you, doctor.” Lord Kendrick offered the man a firm handshake, his knuckles bone white before Mr. Stacey showed him out. He looked over towards the faces of his staff before turning to Lisa, trying to keep a strong front as he offered her his hand. “Come dear.”

Lisa stood up from the chair, the ruffles of her yellow flower dress, one of her mother’s favourties because yellow was her favourite colour, swayed with each step as she cautiously reached for her father’s hand. He squeezed it tightly, offering her a brave smile before he led her into the room.

Her father’s study was filled with instruments, his sheet music scattered about the floor and a writing desk at the far corner of the room. Near the window where sunlight beamed down almost angelically was Lady Kendrick, laid back on her father’s chair bed, a blanket draped below the waist. She looked gravely ill as she took slow breathes, holding her head with her hand as if she were fighting a vigorous headache.

Their footsteps were light as the pair approached Lady Kendrick, and her mother’s eyes seemed to shine a little brighter at her presence as her father held her shoulders firmly, yet comfortingly.

“Lisa. . .” Lady Kendrick breathed out her name with a tired smile. “I want to tell you a secret, okay?”

Lisa could see the tears that had swelled in her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat, her fingers curling into fists to compose herself. “Okay. . .”

“This secret has helped me through all my trials in life, and I pray that it helps you in turn.” Lady Lisa extended her weary hand, and Lisa’s smaller petite hand took it.

They weren’t as warm as yesterday.

“Always remember; Have courage, and be kind.” Lady Kendrick proclaimed, her larger fingers curling around Lisa’s hand, squeezing tightly. “This is the greatest magic to ever exist.”

Lisa could feel her lips star to tremble, her eyes beginning to sting. Why was she saying this?

“You have more kindness than anyone can ever possess, and it can be very powerful.” Lady Kendrick implored, her eyes becoming teary again.

“It can?” Lisa asked her softly.

“Of course. Have courage and be kind, my darling. Can you promise me that?” Lady Kendrick smiled softly.

Something was definitely wrong. Lisa could feel her heart pounding in her chest, hear its being in her ear drums. Lisa nodded her head softly, words suddenly failing her.

“Good. I–” Tears welled in her mother’s eyes as Lady Kendrick looked over towards Lord Kendrick who looked equally as teared up, trying to stay strong for their daughter before her gaze fell back on her. She gulped for air, trying to shove down as much dread as she could as her voice wavered. “I must go very– unexpectedly, and soon, my love.”

That did it. That was all Lisa needed to hear until tears of her own started streaming down her cheeks. A soft whimper fluttered from her lips as her father’s grip on her shoulders tightened ever so slightly. Her vision blurred and every time she blinked to clear her vision, more tears were set free.

Her worst nightmare was coming true.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Lady Kendrick asked.

Lisa’s body trembled along with her voice as she managed a shaking breath. “Of course I forgive you.”

Lady Kendrick reached out her other hand and that was all the invitation Lisa needed to fall into her mother’s embrace, as she cried into her chest. The soft caresses from her mother did nothing to muffle her sobs as her father leaned in as well, engulfing them both in an embrace as he whispered pure love and devotion into their ears.

Through it all, her mother’s passing, the funeral, her burial, one phrase repeated itself into Lisa’s head over and over.

It’s happening again.

Lady Kendrick was buried in a private cemetery on the outskirts of town with her belated husband, and Lisa’s birth father. Time passed, and as Lisa grew up with her step-father, pain turned into memory. In her heart, Lisa stayed the same, and kept her promise to her mother. Have courage and be kind.

That is where our story begins.

But there is another who’s part plays an important role, and that’s who we’ll meet next.

////////

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#silk & cologne #Cinderella; AU #alternate universe #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #fanfiction #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x oc #miguel o'hara x spiderpersona #atsv #across the spiderverse #fluff #romance

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depressedhatakekakashi · 7 months ago

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Do you thibk Merchant Gai was more socially awkward than the rest of his lifetimes?

You mentioned once he had a tragic backstory in his youth that made him work hard for his boat and then he spent most of his time on the water. Maybe his child/teen hood made it so he had a hard time talking to people, and growing a bit of a more avoidant attachment style to almost everyone he came in contact with. Unable to fully connect with them.

I almost see him actually developing feelings for Rin when she was on his boat. And she saw it too but before he ever did anything he would just... say its been a long day and make an excuse and head out to the deck... its why she was the one who had to make the first move and end up jumping him XD.

The only exception I see this for is with Hiroki and other little kids. He is his best, most outgoing self when surrounded by children in the orphanage, or exploring the seas with his son beside him.

But...this awkwardness is why he could NEVER confess to Kakashi when he saw him in the market/ grew smitten with his favorite customer and often ended up tripping over his feat when he was near. It was like a stone was in his throat and instead he just kept giving him large amount of "Free samples."

(I wonder if Kakashi found that adorable in its own way...)

But yeah was I w

Rivgt about any of that? I also find it funny that this Gai was more shy, while his next Rougue lifetime out of the gate was like

"HELLO EXTREMELY HOT MAN, join my group of merry men." *Wink!*

(Rogue Gai learning there's no time to be coy and to always act on what he wants because tomorrow is never guaranteed. Where Merchant Gai learned to guard one's heart and keep ones feelings close to your chest because it can all be taken from you... same lesson, same person, two wildly different results based on environment XD)

I wouldn't say Gai became more avoident of people. It's really hard for me to see him as avoidant, especially in the line of work that he chooses as he's a bridge between his village and others. someone who has to be good at negotiation, conversation, etc.

So he's still very good with people, he's just a bit more toned down than his other lives.

He's not as open or what some people would consider 'overwhelming' but rather he's a lot more controlled with his interactions. his conversations have a purpose and once that purpose is fulfilled he is moving on, whereas in his other lifetimes (especially his Prince, Rogue and Traveler lives) he would speak with others a lot more.

i would agree he comes off as a lot shyer, mostly in his home village where he has kind of learned that keeping his head down and mouth shut is usually a lot better for his safety. He really starts to reign in his opinions and objections after Hiroki is born and focus' instead on raising his son the way he wished he had been raised

by his parent

he also starts going on more journeys after Hiroki's birth specifically to avoid his village. he loves the people there, but the corruption and the royal family is not something he can tolerate most of the time (except when they start expecting him to have dinners with them/join their parties, at which point he has to fake his way through it and hope he doesn't insult them by accident)

Hiroki is both an escape for Gai, giving him a reason to keep going on his trips (he needs to ensure he has money to support his son) and a major reason Gai really starts to shut other people out. He never could do it before, but there's trauma he has from losing his parents so young and he does not want his son to experience that same trauma

he's still kind, out going, excitable, and very friendly, but he avoids interactions with people as much as he can only after Hiroki's birth so that he doesn't say or do the wrong thing and end up in a grave while his son is still young.

#GOS AU #God of Storms au #Kakagai

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winter-cheshire-writings · 17 days ago

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Woven Threads & Lines of Chalk - Prologue

A woman in a well-worn cloak walked up the snowy trail into the Dragonspine Mountains. She stopped atop a hill, taking in the view. “Simply stunning.” She smiled before she headed towards the looming castle town in the distance. Most wouldn't even entertain the idea of walking by themselves through the area around the treacherous mountains, let alone in the late autumn like this. She arrived at the gate to Dragonspine, the guards greeting her.

“What brings you to Dragonspine, Miss?”

“I'm just a traveler with a knack for sewing.” She smiled. “Would you gentlemen know where I could find an inn?” After their explanation, the woman bowed her head. “If you require any sewing repairs, please let me know.” She said before turning to leave.

“Sewing repairs, hm? It’s kind of refreshing to see someone other than those snobs at the Palmira Fabric Shop doing sewing stuff.”

“Yeah… Kind of an odd one though, isn't she?” The other knight asked. “She's clearly not from around here. Not even a weapon on her person… But I didn't see any transport drop her off.”

“Huh? I guess not…” They shrugged off the unusual incident though. “Maybe she's just lucky.”

“Probably. Or maybe whoever escorted her is hunting and she just went ahead?”

“Ooh, that might be it.”

The townspeople didn't pay her much attention, but they noticed the unfamiliar cloak amongst the rest. The woman was quite small in comparison to anyone else around wearing a cloak like that—almost laughably so. It was also quite long, whereas most of the inhabitants wore short cloaks to avoid getting wet or snagged on hidden shrubs in the snow.

“Who is she?”

“I don't know.”

“Is she a traveler?”

“Well I doubt she's from around here. We would have heard about her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look at her. She’s got such unusual hair, and she’s cute.”

“That’s just the granny in you talking.”

“Oh, hush, that isn’t true.”

—

“Pardon me.” Mieko said as she opened the door to the inn. She could see mercenaries at one end, and some merchants and other rough types at the other. They all looked up at her when she walked in, but she just went right to the desk at the back.

“What can I do for ya, little lady?”

“If you have any rooms available, I’d like to rent one please.” She smiled.

“A room, huh? Sure, little lady.” The innkeeper took a key down from the wall. “That’ll be 2 silver a night, plus 8 bronze per meal.” He stated.

“Ah, very well.” She replied, fishing out the coins and handing them to him. “I hope it’s alright that I probably will only take a meal tonight.” She stated.

“But you’re paying for a week.”

“Yes, I intend to try some food out in the market during the day.”

“Ah, that’s it. That’s fine, whatever suits ya.” He said before showing her to the room before handing her the key. “Be careful, little lady. Got lots of rough types in this town.”

“Haha, that’s alright.” She smiled up at the man. “Thank you for the warning, though. I’ll watch my back.” As he left, she went into her room to take off her long cloak, relaxing for a little while and taking in the space. It was cozy, and it was very well-heated. Well, of course it was. It was Dragonspine. To keep people comfortable here, she assumed elemental energy was being used to keep the place insulated and warm. She checked the bed and took some notes on the clearly hand-stitched work on the pillow cases and covers, pouting a little. “What a gaudy print…” She sighed. The fabrics in the whole town she had seen were rather gaudy, at least on the people who were clearly better off. The wealthier people all wore such gaudy prints that it made her cringe. She was glad that the innkeeper wasn’t wearing any of those prints. “Well, I hope that I can find some simple sewing tasks amongst the townspeople…” She sighed.

Mieko spent a couple of days walking through town and offering her services, but when people said they didn’t have money to pay her, she shook her head. “No need to pay me… But, do you by chance have any recommendations on food?” The first few just offered to feed her once they saw her handiwork, since she offered to do the repairs first. Children’s dolls, troublesome seams or repairs that were hard to manage for the home seamstress or seamster, unusual requests, she would even take on glove repairs and such, returning the items in much better condition than they had been given to her in.

“She’s such an unusual little thing.”

“She’s a high class seamstress though, clearly. She doesn’t bat an eye at how bad the condition is, and all she wants is food?”

“Well, better for us than forking over silver or gold to that snobby lady from the fabric shop.”

“That’s true.”

“Oh no!” A lady with mint hair and pale skin, dressed in a beautifully white cloak sighed. “It’s getting even worse.” She was holding her cape with a forlorn expression.

“Tear in your cloak again, Miss Sucrose?” One of the merchants asked. “You should ask that woman over there, with the blue hair, to fix it for you.”

“Huh? Fix…?” Sucrose asked.

“She’s been in town for about 3 days, repairing stuff for us free of charge. All she asks is for food or recommendations on where to eat.” The merchant said.

“I see… Thank you.” She said, heading over to Mieko, watching her working for a few moments before she approached. “P-Pardon me.” When Mieko looked up, she smiled.

“Hello. May I assist you?” After a quick explanation, Mieko nodded and had Sucrose take off the cloak that needed repair, offering her own to keep the mint-haired woman warm. Sucrose was surprised when she felt how heavy this cloak was. It was so warm, too. Mieko worked quickly on the repair, her stitch work was subtle but very secure. Sucrose was very impressed with it, but kept her thoughts to herself since the woman next to her was working so diligently. Mieko took a moment to inspect her work before returning the cloak to its owner, Sucrose thanking her.

“How may I repay you, Miss Mieko?”

“Haha, no need to pay me. Your repair was small. Perhaps, though, you could tell me… Where do you work?”

“Oh, I work for Dragonspine Palace.” Sucrose said, surprised. The two got to talking, and Sucrose took Mieko for a snack at a nearby stand, and then they continued their conversation.

“Oh, I see. You’re a Court Lady.” Mieko smiled. “Do you like your job?”

“I do. It comes with much freedom, as Prince Albedo allows his court ladies to pursue their interests and hobbies.” She stated.

“Oh, the Prince? May I ask what he’s like?”

“He’s very smart, and he’s extremely talented. He’s got ashy-blonde hair and turquoise eyes. It’s really amazing, when you get to see him up close. He looks like a porcelain doll.”

“Oh, how amazing.” Mieko smiled. “I’ll assume his clothes are fancy too.”

“Ah, well…” Sucrose looked around. “Truth is, he’s still not really gotten to wear too many fancy things.”

“Oh? What a shame.” Mieko stated. “What head seamstress would pass up the opportunity to make opulent clothing for a prince who looks like a porcelain doll?”

“I-It truly is a wonder.” Sucrose replied, Mieko sensing her nervousness. She changed the subject for the remainder of the conversation, and after Sucrose left, she sighed to herself.

“What a conundrum… The tailoring association didn’t want to come out here themselves because of how treacherous it is, and they didn’t want to waste their precious fabric.” She grumbled to herself. “But all the same, their clear distaste for him is so obvious… No, I suppose all nobles from the kingdom show the same distaste for the, what did they call him? The "Frozen Prince” or something? What imbecile would miss the opportunity to dress someone like that?” She shook her head. Since she learned that Sucrose would be returning to the town to do an inspection later in the week, she smiled. “Perhaps I will be able to do more than just simple repairs here after all.” She sighed, looking at her little sewing kit. She put a hand to her heart, taking a deep breath. “Ahh, quiet this nervousness, Mie… Yuki would make fun of you forever, if she saw you acting like a child over the description of someone…” She chuckled. “Just a few more days… I hope you turn out to be a suitable person, and not just another bothersome royal…”

#winter-cheshire-writings #albedo x oc #genshin albedo #genshin impact #genshin impact albedo #genshin oc x canon #oc x canon #mieko - oc #woven threads and lines of chalk

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lemonhemlock · 2 months ago

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Congratulations on being on the way to become a future wife!! The timing of it happening just after you got whipped by the priest makes it even funnier. Not sure though, but I think it will take another long rest trigger his scene. The next long rest after entering the goblin camp will trigger the first scene with your dream guardian so that will take priority before any potential love scene.

By the way, if you've decided to knock out Minthara to recruit her later in act 2, make sure you do NOT take Halsin with you if you saved him in the worg pens. He will either kill her himself or her recruitment will potentially bug out. If you get to him before dealing with her, just tell him to wait there and ignore him from then on, he will eventually find his way by himself back to the grove.

no, no, i already had my first dream guardian sequence! it was right after i convinced lae'zel not to kill me, the entire camp and then herself because i was feverish :)))))) all in a day's (night's) work!! unfortunately this man was telling me to trust the tadpole and that, not to worry, he'll prevent me from becoming a squid person, so with a heavy heart i decided not to trust HIM because that just sounds whack. it was v hard bc he is v hot (i made him, after all, and gave him brat hair) and he seems to know what he's talking about. he has more rizz put together than my loser male companions but i'm squinting my eyes @ him from a distance

i also accidentally clicked on a gale flirting option (i've been successfully avoiding the shadowheart and lae'zel ones so far. shadowheart's was so easy to get and lae'zel unlocked hers at like 20-smth approval rating. crazy.) and got this cringe sequence of him trying to show ME (another wizard, mind you) how the weave works 🤡 but i did my best to friendzone him by imagining us having a hearty meal together

not that astarion flirting with me was much better in the cringe department, but at the very least hilarious considering the timing. unfortunately, i also freed volo beforehand so i suppose i'll get his sequence when i hit long rest. which won't happen anyway for quite some time because i have all spell slots & two short rests available to decimate the goblin camp rn. so our budding romance will have to be put on hold. (for the record, i am NOT going to let that clown perform brain surgery on me lol). i also made astarion lockpick and free liam, to which he didn't even object (not even a hiss or complaint! boo!)

i did not find halsin yet but did speak to minthara. i saw on reddit that, with the latest patch, you don't have to have her temporarily hostile anymore and could just knock her out? i did not know about not bringing halsin with me, that seems tricky. i guess i'm gonna have to try several versions of this battle if i want to have both those fools in my camp. i have neither a paladin, nor a druid, so it would be a chance for me to see how it is to play those classes

but in the meantime i think i'm going to pick up some of the junk i left in the traveller's chest and sell it to the merchant in the goblin camp for some more coin

i'm gonna answer the rest of your messages when i get some time but about the spoilers - yeah i had to be spoiled about some stuff bc i otherwise would not have started playing in a million years so :)) you know :)) but from now on i'm gonna at least try to not seek out very many details or arch-narratives, so that i can preserve at least some semblance of freshness when i get to them :)) so, going forward, as a procedure, i'll just ask about specific things if i want to know about them. thank you so much for your help & i hope you have a lovely week! (also don't worry you didn't tell me much i didn't already know/suspect)

#ask #anon #miss lemon plays bg3 #anti astarion

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saratogaroadwrites · 1 year ago

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For King and Country (11/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount: 280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

"We’ve got the fields laid out, Yer Majesty,” Munokhoi said, his hand shaking only a little as he tapped places on the map of the area that had been laid out across a large crate of supplies that the Pirates had packed up to bring to the site of their new Kingdom. “Here and here, and a couple here, too. Seeds are in the ground and first crop’ll be grown by fall-time.”

“Gosh,” Evan said, his tail waving casually behind him, “You all work so fast! We don’t even have the boundary finished and you’re all done with the fields?”

“For now,” Munokhoi smiled. Roland watched him as he explained to Evan what else the Pirates had been up to, the unusually gentle and shy man having been shoved into the role of ambassador between King and people for the moment. For all his nerves, he seemed to be taking to it quite well, though Roland was sure that he’d much prefer to be in the fields he was talking about rather than talking to people about them. Even if that person was Evan.

But, other than a couple of Dellians that had come to the Heartlands to escape the mess in Ding Dong Dell, Munokhoi was the only one who legitimately knew how to grow anything that could be called edible. The rest of the Pirates, Roland had found out by asking Tani one night, usually ate a whole lot of monster meat spiced only with the occasional stolen supply from a merchant or caravan passing through the Canyon. Those days were clearly over, and out of the Canyon, away from the desperate clawing for survival, they were all displaying a wide range of skills and abilities that Roland hadn’t given much thought to.

At least, most of them were. Khunbish had appointed himself to guard duty and heaven help anyone who tried to get him off of that. Roland thought he was doing it to avoid having to cross paths with the still furious Aranella, who kept watch over Evan like a mother bear whenever a pirate came up to talk to the boy-king. Evan had said that Aranella was awfully kind, and most of the time she was. It was just that Evan had likely never been on the other side of his adoptive mother’s wrath.

She would have fit right in on the political circuit, and been a right terror. If he’d still has his old job, he’d have hired her on the spot. As it was, he really couldn’t cast any sort of judgment, not when he was doing the exact same thing that she was. The pair of them were also involved in this discussion, such as it was, even with his doubts that Munokhoi would have laid so much as a finger on Evan’s head

Some things, he thought, you just don’t get over in a hurry.

Not that they’d hurried. In the two weeks since breaking ground in what would become their kingdom, very little actual work had been done. They’d made a sturdy camp, sure, and Evan was blossoming under Aranella and Roland’s lessons, but in terms of becoming a proper, livable kingdom? Munokhoi’s fields were the biggest step they’d taken. That needed to change.

With his status report delivered, Munokhoi ran off back to work. Tani laughed from where she, too, was leaning against their crate table.

“No getting around it now,” she said with a smile, “That one’s definitely got a green thumb.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Evan grinned. “Still, I’m glad that’s over. Now we can go to Goldpaw—”

"Absolutely not." Aranella interrupted firmly, the first words she’d said all day. Roland snapped his eyes towards her and grimaced. Even in the late morning sun, she looked awful. Pale and leaning heavily on her crutch, it seemed to take too much of her strength to speak. Lofty watched her, oddly quiet. Evan slammed both hands to the crate.

"Nella!" Evan cried, leaning over, "We're so close! We have to--"

"You have more than just me to think about, Evan." She said, "You have people who need you to look out for them now."

"B-But--!"

"Your leg's getting worse, Miss Nella," Tani said with a worried frown. “Can we really wait to get it treated?”

It wasn’t a baseless question, Roland thought. In the time since leaving the Hills, she had slowly gotten worse. Martha had given them herbs to help dull the pain before they’d left, but it seemed to Roland that they weren’t working very well any longer. There was something wrong with this, and it wasn’t just the curse. It was how fast it was progressing. How long did she have? Would she simply die? Or would she turn like the Black Knight had?

Though he didn’t dare say it out loud, the question still made Roland shiver. Before the argument could escalate, he shook his head.

“Aranella’s right,” He said, gritting his teeth against a flinch as Evan turned a betrayed look on him. His heart ached for Evan as he said, “Goldpaw is still two weeks away. Two weeks there and two weeks back is a month we don’t have. We need to fortify our position before Tyran comes back."

Evan’s ears drooped. “I know,” He said, clenching his fists, “But we can’t just…” He looked up at Aranella. “You’re…”

"I'll be alright, Evan," Aranella said, reaching out to put a hand to his arm. "Don't worry."

Somehow Roland doubted Evan would stop worrying until Aranella was healed. If it had just been them making their way to Goldpaw that would have been one thing, but with a fledgling kingdom to protect and land to claim, they didn’t have time to focus on just one person. As much as he disliked the idea, too, he had to keep them on track.

“Alright. The sooner we finish with this, the sooner we can make for Goldpaw.” He said. “And we can’t live in tents forever. We need to get something more permanent set up soon, and that means natural resources.”

Evan took a deep breath, staring at the crate. Then, slowly, he let it go. He spoke with his eyes closed.

“Like quality building materials, right?” He asked in a small voice. Working his fingers into the material of his coat, Roland nodded.

“Right. Some good quality wood would be a start.” Though where they would get enough of it…that was the question. The camp was sheltered beneath some trees but they’d be lucky to get a cabin out of that amount of wood. “But we’re going to need a lot of it…”

“Well now,” Batu said, walking up behind Tani. “That’s easy enough. The Forest of Niall’s just down the way. We’ll go an’ chop ourselves a few choice logs, shall we?”

Violence was always Batu’s answer, wasn’t it. Tani turned a flat look on her father, hands on her hips.

“You can’t just go chopping down trees willy-nilly!” She said, and Batu looked away with a sheepish grimace. “What do you think Niall would have to say about that?” She shook her head with a sigh. “You call him a skinflint now, but after cutting down half his woods? Even he’d have a word or two to spend on us.”

“I’ll take it Niall is the owner of this forest?” Roland asked before the two could get into it again, as they had the habit of doing. Tani nodded, but it was Aranella that spoke.

“I’ve heard the name before,” Aranella said, “I believe that Niall is the leader of a village of Greenlings that live deep in the woods.” A wry smile crossed her face. “You could call him a King without a Kingmaker. It’s doubtful anything happens in those woods without his permission.”

“Then we must go and speak with him,” Evan said with a bit more firmness to his voice than before. “Surely he’ll give us his blessing if we simply explain the situation.”

Batu snorted out a laugh. “Mark me words, lad, you’ll get nothin’ out of Niall for free. He’s tighter than a hangman’s noose and about as stubborn as three a yer mum ‘ere.”

Aranella gave Batu a hard look that had him quailing all over again. Roland swallowed back a laugh and spread one hand.

“Then we’ll just have to cut a deal with him. I’ve brought a fair share of hard-nosed customers to the negotiating table in my time.” Which may have been too much to say, since Batu turned and gave him pensive look. Roland quickly looked away and asked, “How far is “down the way”, anyway?”

“Not too far,” Tani said. She leaned on the crate to get a better look at the map they’d spread out over the rough wooden surface, tracing the river south and west. “About a week this way until…here!” She tapped a fully wooded area roughly halfway to Goldpaw. It looked small on the map but these things were never to scale. Hopefully this Niall would be willing to talk. “Shouldn’t be a problem with the weather this good.”

“That’s springtime for ye,” Batu said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’d just as soon have this place built up ‘fore the summer squalls roll in, if it’s all the same.” He looked to Evan. “We’d best be leaving soon.”

“Yes.” Evan nodded. He held his tongue for a moment, then slowly turned to Aranella. “Nella,” He said sadly, “Maybe it’d be best if you stay here. We can…make better time without you and once we have the wood we can make for Goldpaw so—”

“It’s alright, Evan,” Aranella said with a kind smile, “You don’t have to explain. I know I can’t keep a good pace anymore.” She glared down at her leg, giving it a shake that took another shade of color off of her face. She took a deep breath to steady herself and looked her son in the eye. “But don’t worry. This won’t be the end of me, I promise.”

Evan’s chin quivered. He sniffed hard, then excused himself from the meeting to go and gather his things. With one last oddly pensive look at Aranella, Lofty bounced off after him. Tani and Batu soon followed, leaving Roland and Nella the only ones at the crate-table.

“Roland, I need you to promise me something.” She said before he could leave. When he met her eyes, the pain in them was obvious and he frowned. It was worse than she was letting on to Evan. How much longer did she have before it got so bad she could no longer stand?

Would Evan have to watch her die?

The thought was like a cold hand squeezing his heart. He swallowed back a sickening feeling.

“What?”

“I…” She swallowed hard. “I can’t hide the fact that this is getting worse, and I’m more than a little concerned about what’ll happen to Evan if something happens to me. If I don’t…” They both looked toward her leg. She took a breath and finished, “If I don’t survive this curse, I mean.”

If she died. Roland looked to where Evan had slipped into the tent he shared with Aranella and thought of Trevor. They were the same age. The thought of Trevor going through something like this made the thing gripping his heart squeeze even tighter and his throat tighten up with it. He looked back to Aranella.

“I’ll take care of him,” He said, surprising himself at just how firm his voice still was. “I give you my word. If anything happens, I’ll make sure he’s safe.”

Not that he wouldn’t have done that anyway. Still Aranella’s face softened with relief. With a gentle smile, she reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

“You’re a good man, Roland,” She said, “Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Not anyone else, he thought, just himself. Thoughts once again turning to his own son, Roland wondered what was happening in his world. Had Trevor survived? Had Alex? Were they together now? Who was looking after them? Was there anyone helping them the way he was trying to help Evan?

For the first time in a very long time, Roland found himself praying.

Maybe this time, he thought, someone would listen.

#nnk2 #ni no kuni 2 #nnk2 fic #!fic #fic: for king and country

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yoonia · 2 years ago

Text

Blood Moon Rising | 29

‘As beings from ancient times, the Vampire Clan has undergone numerous changes to thrive in the Modern Age after surviving the Ancient Blood War. As a part of the traveller family in his clan, Jimin has parted ways from the coven until the day his Lords warned him of the lurking danger from inside the clan. And all so suddenly, he was pulled out of his solitary, only to have given the responsibility he had never wished to have, along with the threats that come as a part of the deal.

Born as youngest yet having lost so much, you have given your family your loyalty, your protection, and had been given their love and support that had become the only thing that keeps you going. But what happens when the only people you have put your trust in only repay you with betrayal?’

➥ Character | Jimin x reader

➥ Genre | Supernatural!au, Vampire! Jimin, Werewolf!reader, Angst

➥ Ratings & Warning | PG-13; mentions of assault, depiction of a battle, violence scene (fighting, attacks, usage of poison, minor characters death)

➥ Word count | 11,5k words

➥ Part of The Shifters Series | World Map & Glossary | Characters Guide | ⤎ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ⇢

➥ Masterlist

➥ Author’s Note | Forgive me for the long wait, but this chapter was a struggle to work on. I should also note that as we progress with the story with more possible crossovers between stories happening in the future chapters, I will start referring to the other female characters with their OC names each time they make any appearance in the scenes. Feel free to follow and get to know more about these characters through the Characters Guide page linked above. Enjoy!

MOMENTS AGO…

The Resting Forest territory has always been known to be somewhat silent and peaceful.

Spread all the way from the foot of the Resting Mountains to the borders surrounding the shifters’ land and human towns, the thick foliage provides protection from the atrocities and threats coming from the No Man’s Land and the dreadful wastelands in the South, while at the same time, it becomes the veil that conceals them from the Hunters lurking from their secret colonies in the West.

For a long time, the forest has also served as an open route for travellers and merchants passing through. The forest represents peace, as it has held no danger nor threats towards its guests and settlers for many years. Not since the last of the Rogue War.

But that situation has changed today, as the loud sound of the battle between the Vampires happening at the borders near No Man’s Land could be heard all the way to the other end of the forest, disrupting the peace and solitude ever since the first blast reverberated through the woods. Just as yet another explosion erupted, making the ground rumble and shake beneath all the tension, the young Vampire messenger rushed through the thicket in haste. Instead of running away from the explosion to avoid chaos, he went further to approach its source, knowing that it would be the only possible place where he might find who and what he had been searching for.

Through his journey, he was quick to feel the heat from the intense battle that has kept on rising and how much it was beginning to affect the rest of the woodlands. The clashing forces from the battle had sent the local animals into hiding, and it was starting to push him back, making it hard for him to keep going forward. Yet the urgency and the dire need to carry on with his search gave him the strength to continue on his way. With the knowledge that he had no more time left to waste, he simply pushed forward, even when the thick, hot air around him was suffocating him and burning his skin upon contact, letting him know that he was getting closer to the battlefield.

“Can’t stop now. Must find him fast,” the Vampire, Yeosang, kept on telling himself as he raced faster, as he feared that he might have been too late, that he wouldn’t be able to reach the Lord Vampires’ entourage—the one that Junhoe was guiding—on time.

With each blast from the battle reaching from a close distance, he accelerated, rushing on despite knowing what was waiting for him on the other side.

Granted, the messenger had never once been trained properly to join any battle. All his life, the only thing that he had been tasked with was to send messages and news from one point to another, jumping from one hideout to the other while he acted as the private messenger between the Lords’ children and their secret allies. Being this close to a battle seemed like a terrible idea, but his instincts drew him closer, taking him towards where Junhoe might be.

At first, he had begun the search for Junhoe and his entourage out of his personal concern, hoping that he would be able to warn the Vampire of the danger that was waiting for them, before getting them all back to his hiding place where he could help reunite the Orphans—the disbanded brothers of the Travellers clan that Junhoe had somehow become apart of—with the Lords’ children that had been travelling with him.

But now, sensing that the danger has already found them, his main agenda is to make sure that Junhoe and the Orphans that he was travelling with would be able to come out of the chaos alive.

But how am I supposed to do such a thing? He questioned himself as he thought of this, cursing the fact that he had never once gotten engaged in this kind of situation before.

It doesn’t matter, because finding Lord Jimin is the main priority. As long as he is safe. He reminded himself this, just as he was reminded of the last conversation that he had with Lord Seungwon’s daughter at the gathering night back at the home castle many weeks ago. She was the oldest of the children, the leader of the heirs, and the only one who had always been keeping in touch with the homeland after the previous Lords’ ascending to the Eternal Sleep.

Yeosang had remained by her side that night. Together with her brothers, they were perfectly hidden among the crowds who had never once met the Lords’ children and were unable to identify her. They had all witnessed Jimin’s initiation as the future Lord together, keeping the powers of the Lords safe with him and out of the rebels’ reach. They had stayed a bit longer to give the youngest brother a chance to use his powers to identify the traitors that were lurking between the Elders, though his effort couldn’t provide much information when the siblings were forced to leave before anyone would notice their presence.

As his thought wandered back into that very night, Yeosang’s spirit was quick to rise as he was reminded of the message that was given to him that night.

“I’ll try to find and gather my cousins. But before then, I shall have a word with the new ‘Lord’,” Lord Seungwon’s daughter had told him then before she disappeared into the night. “Let Jimin know that I will be waiting for him at the place where the Orphans used to hide in to escape from my father’s lectures.” She chuckled lovingly. “I’ll be waiting until the break of dawn. I’ll listen to what he has planned. If he has any.”

Yeosang had already failed his duty once when he lost track of Lord Jimin and the Orphans after the gathering night, when the brothers had been so quick to depart before they all disappeared into their secret meeting point in the human town. Since then, he has vowed to never again fail on the task that was given to him and to bring Lord Jimin and his brothers to meet the heirs.

He was still considered lucky, however, when even after his failure, he had somehow been able to make contact with Junhoe, the Turned Vampire who had joined the Travellers clan and had become close acquaintances with the Orphans. Despite never joining the Blood Oath which the Orphans did with each other when they reached adulthood, Junhoe remained to be a part of their circle, so he had known then that whatever information that Lord Seungwon’s daughter wanted to give to Lord Jimin would still reach him as long as Junhoe was willing to trust them and hold on to the message.

It had taken some coaxing and convincing, seeing that Junhoe didn’t trust him enough to follow him while the Turned Vampire was already anxious about catching up with his brothers and clan mates who had already left the home castle, but Yeosang succeeded in the end in persuading Junhoe to follow him, taking him to the meeting point where he could meet Lord Seungwon’s children before they slipped away to return into their hidden sanctuary.

To this day, Yeosang would repeatedly think about that night, to recall the conversation that was shared then and the information that he had gathered while he was there to witness it all. He has been using everything that he had learned as his reasons to continue to perform his duties as the messenger between the heirs and the Orphans, and to the home castle, while remaining focused on his mission of bringing Lord Jimin home and helping reunite them all together.

Because he and his brothers are the only ones who would be able to change their minds, to convince the rightful heirs of the throne to take their place, he repeated these words inside his head, just as he had done for the past few moons which he spent tracking down the Lords and following their orders. They will surely listen to Lord Jimin, especially now that he is holding the power of the Lords within him.

Yeosang continued to repeat these words as he pushed forward, using them to motivate him to continue racing through the forest, no matter how intimidating the situation around him was becoming, not letting his own fear get into his head until he could get to where he needed to be.

Another blast came from the battle, startling him. It was right at that moment when a swift movement from beyond the trees caught his attention, making him stumble just as something came into his path. It took him a moment to find his balance, his own speed became the reason he was thrown off. As he managed to straighten himself and look up, he found a Warrior Vampire standing in his way with a sneer on his face.

“I’m afraid this is the end of your journey,” the Vampire said to him with a taunting voice, drawing a threatening snarl from the messenger.

“Step out of my way. This has nothing to do with you,” Yeosang snapped at them. He did the best he could to keep his voice steady and his chin high, keeping his composure even when a few more Vampires appeared from the trees.

His body shuddered in dismay as he recognised them all. They were all members of the Warriors clan, the Vampires that had been trained specifically to protect the Vampire clan and their homeland. Except that it didn’t seem like they were here to protect him, nor were they here to stop the battle from escalating further. They were instead standing in his way, stopping him from going to the battle, which only revealed that they were nothing more but a small part of the rebellions that had been plotting to betray the entire clan.

As he was seething in anger due to this fact, another Warrior came closer, taking his friend’s side as he sneered, “If you’re going to interrupt our plans, then this has everything to do with us.”

Clenching his hands beside him, Yeosang snarls at them, “You are the ones standing in my path.”

Laughing bitterly, the first Vampire tilted his head at him. “This one has some guts on him,” he said, turning to his friends. Then he looked at Yeosang once more, his fangs appearing as he sneered at the messenger while his claws lengthen, as if they were ready to start a fight against the messenger. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much time to play games. Get him.”

Under his command, the other Warriors moved, leaping towards Yeosang to grab him while one Vampire swiped his claws, aiming at Yeosang’s chest. The messenger was only lucky to escape the attack from moving fast, panting as he leapt backwards to avoid the attack. His energy has depleted quite a bit after his run in search of Junhoe, though it didn’t stop him from being swift in dodging the attacks that kept on coming toward him.

But the Warriors had always been faster than most. They had always been stronger, that one failed attack was quick to be followed by another, then another, each time missing barely an inch when Yeosang made a move to slip away from their reach. Just when he was finally reaching his limit, his movement started to become disorganised and slightly clumsy, he failed to escape it when a hand captured his throat, pressing down hard to cut off his airway while sharp claws began to sink into his skin, drawing some blood.

Yeosang opened his eyes to look at his assailant as the grip on his throat tightened, and he watched in horror when the Warrior raised his other hand, ready to strike his final blow. “No hard feelings,” the Vampire said with a low growl. “But we can’t let anyone interfere when we’re already getting so close.”

Yeosang refused to close his eyes. Grabbing onto the hand that was clutching his throat in a tight, unmerciful grip, he kept his eyes open as he anticipated the blow. Except the painful hit never came, when a strong grip caught the Warrior Vampire by the wrist before he ever had the chance to swing his claws, and relief overcame the messenger when he saw a familiar face—not one, but two—standing on either side of the Warrior Vampire that had caught him. They had moved so fast that neither he nor the Vampires who had come close to putting an end to his life ever noticed them coming. Yet his relief was nearly short-lived when he realised who they were, and what they were capable of.

Lord Seunghyun’s twin sons.

The most vicious ones out of the Lords’ missing children. The ones who he had last seen resting in the depth of the wastelands just beyond the No Man’s Land, completely out of sight from the other fellow Vampires from the Travellers clan that was said to have been sent out to find them while staying far out of reach from their own cousins. The same brothers that Yeosang had been trying to lead Junhoe to find.

“Now, now…let’s not be too hasty, shall we? Are you seriously going to attack an innocent being without asking questions first?” said the twin that had a grip around the Vampire that was holding the messenger hostage, while said Vampire turned to look at his left, and then his right, finding two identical sneers facing him before asking,

“W-who are you?”

The question caught Yeosang completely off guard, surprised to find that the Warrior didn’t recognise who they were. Looking around him, it didn’t look like either of the Vampires present here to intercept his task knew who he truly was or who these twins were. Though he soon realised that neither of these Vampires was at fault. While he was merely a messenger who constantly lived in the shadows, loyal only to the Lords and their successors, the twins had been constantly on the move ever since they reached adulthood, hiding away from the rest of the clan while exploring the realm for the past century.

Long enough to be away while their father was building the clan and his army of Turned Vampires in their absence.

The fact that they had no idea who the twins were only meant that it hadn’t been that long since these Warriors were turned. A fact that sounded ironic, knowing who would have been likely to have turned them in the first place as they had all been a part of the Warrior clan.

“My…you really have no idea who we are, don’t you?” one of the twins sneered at the Warrior Vampires, his eyes wide with amusement and pure mirth, drawing shivers down Yeosang’s spine, knowing where this was going. Even though he was way younger compared to these twins, he had been following their tracks long enough to know what kind of menace they were capable of bringing into the world and to other beings around them.

The revelation drew Yeosang’s body completely stiff, wishing that he wasn’t being restrained. Fear clutched tightly in his chest as he wished that he could take a step backwards, to find a way to not become the receiving end of whatever recklessness that may come from the twins. Meanwhile, Yongguk, the Vampire who had the grip on his assailant, tilted his head curiously. “Pity. Perhaps we’ve been gone for too long. Don’t you think so too, brother?”

Stuck in the middle with nowhere else to go, the confused Warrior turned to look at one twin before turning to the other, expecting an answer. And he immediately got what he had wanted when Yongnam, the other twin, chuckled deeply and responded to his brother with, “I have to agree. Time simply escaped us while we were both out there seeing the world.”

“Stop playing games!” the Vampire between them finally snapped. “Who the fuck are you people?”

While his question motivated the rest of his gang—the other Warriors who had been standing silent around them without knowing what to do—to finally change their stance and prepare themselves to join the fight, it only drew the smile on the twins’ faces to grow even wider.

“Good question. Why don’t we introduce ourselves?” Yongguk said with feigned excitement, before both his smile and his intimidating gaze became grim, and he growled softly at the Vampire in his hold. “But first, why don’t you let go of our little friend?” he asked, before he slowly started tightening the grip he had on the Warrior’s wrist until the first snap of bone was heard, all while he continued to whisper tauntingly, “Pretty…” Another snap, then, “…please?” Then the sound of an entire bone snapping in different places echoed in the air around them, followed by a painful cry coming from the poor Warrior.

The moment Yongguk released him, the grip around Yeosang’s throat loosened, and the messenger was freed. Yeosang fell to the ground with a groan, then watched as Yongnam slipped right in front of him, blocking him from their opponents as the twin ordered, “You might want to stand aside, little messenger. Things are going to get a bit wild over here.”

Right beside him, Yongguk’s smirk grew just as his eyes glazed over, as if he was using his senses to track down a familiar presence. “Oh, it seems like Junhoe is nearby too,” he said, before he looked up to see the sky, watching it growing red just as the sound of trees burning coming from the battle was heard, followed by a few more blasts that should be enough to warn them to run away just as a thick blanket of flame began to build up.

Instead of sharing a look of fear, wicked smiles appeared on the twins’ faces as the flame from the battle continued to rise up to the sky, red flames dancing gracefully from beyond the trees, as if inviting them to play along. “And whatever it is that he seems to be involved in sounds like a lot of fun,” he added, and Yeosang could almost feel the excitement bursting out of the twin’s body.

The other twin chuckled as he continued to face the Vampires that were starting to rise, ready to come at them. There was an excited grin growing on his face as he offered, “Shall we finish this quickly and go together to find our adopted brother to see what he’s been up to?”

“Let’s,” his brother responded, before the twin launched to welcome the fight.

Knowing that he shouldn’t take their warnings lightly, Yeosang immediately slipped away, finding protection behind a boulder just as the twins took over the situation. Watching them fight, while feeling the presence of the Vampires from the Travellers clan still fighting nearby, he began to feel hope, and he started to see that maybe things wouldn’t turn out so bleak after all.

PRESENT…

Junhoe realises too late just how hard it is to stay focused on fighting when his attention is divided into various places. As he fights, his thoughts scatter between worrying about Lord Jimin and his other companions that he has left behind to fend for themselves, to wondering about the distress that he felt coming from the messenger not too long ago, and to pay attention to the fight that he is currently dealing with.

It is not making things easier for him either when he is facing a strong opponent whose fighting style is way too similar to his, all due to their history of being trained together under their master, Lord Seunghyun, during their transition period as adult Vampires. Though he has to admit that his level of combat skills may not be as advanced as his opponent, with his lack of experience in open battles such as this one.

He had already noticed his inadequacy back during the battle against the werewolves which happened not too long ago, when he had to fight side by side with Jimin and the Lycan hybrid, Taehyung, and was only able to do so much to assist. Now, the disparity seems even clearer as he is facing his former ally, whose combat skills have obviously gotten more advanced compared to his has ever had, something that shouldn’t be too surprising for him to find.

Being turned decades after he was, Mino had always been one of their master’s strongest disciples. Even back when Junhoe was still a part of the Warriors clan, far before he made the choice to join Jimin and the Travellers clan, he had witnessed how Mino had advanced quickly ever since the day he was turned to the long days when he joined the other Warriors clan members in war training.

A long time has passed since then, and Junhoe can easily tell the difference between their strength and skills. Fighting Mino feels like facing a stone wall, when he could barely land a fatal attack on his opponent while the few hits that he receives have been able to send him a few steps backwards.

It doesn’t help the fact that Mino has the upper hand by having other Warriors backing him up in the fight while Junhoe is fighting alone. Had he—even for a moment—expected to meet these rebels the moment he separates himself from his group, Junhoe would have been more prepared to face this fight. His problem isn’t just about defeating Mino, but there is also the matter of going against his followers who aren’t there just to witness the fight, but to accommodate their leader in putting Junhoe down.

With each attack that he lands on Mino, they would make a move to retaliate, using the short period of time while Junhoe is distracted to attack, disrupting his focus and balance while giving enough time for Mino to recover before re-entering the fight once again. The pattern continues, and he can already feel his energy draining rapidly, his movements keep getting slower as the fight carries on. Even though he still manages to take down two of the younger Turned Vampires who are still no match to him, he knows for sure that this isn’t the kind of fight that he would win easily on.

And he still has the messenger to worry about.

“I can see that you can still fight quite well,” Mino comments between his attack, one that Junhoe easily evades once he is starting to be able to read his opponent’s movements. This fight has brought back a memory from the past, to the days and nights he spent sparring with Mino and his former clan mates. It had also brought him back to the day he came face to face with his former clan members to inform them that he would no longer be staying with the Warriors clan.

For the first decade ever since that day, he was haunted by guilt. The memory of the talk that he had with his fellow clan members back then had followed him for a long time, when he would recall the words that they had given him right before his departure, giving him nothing but doubt.

“You are ungrateful and greedy. You know that we’re the strongest clan among the others. You will regret this.”

Those had been the exact words that Mino and his other fellow clan mates said to him then. With the passing time, everything that happened then had become a complete blur in his mind—all the faces, the words, the actual events of that night before he finally departed under Lord Seunghyun’s well wishes—until now, when he looks straight into Mino’s eyes and feels the pain of betrayal boiling in his chest.

It wasn’t an easy feat either to leave the clan that he was brought into when he was turned. He had spent decades adjusting to his new life as a Vampire under Lord Seunghyun’s guidance, and in return, he would be given the tasks of guarding the Lord’s twin boys when they were out on their adventure, venturing outside the homeland, even if he hadn’t known by then the true identity of those twins as the Lord’s biological children. Not until recently, when he finally found out the true nature of Pure Bloods and how they were able to maintain their bloodline.

It was during that time on the road with the twins when he was exposed to the world and what life truly was outside of their homeland, and that was also the first time he began making acquaintances with Jimin and the rest of the Orphans, the Pure Blood children from the Travellers clan. It was then when he started to crave something different. He wanted to have the same chance to venture further out of their homeland, to be able to travel and see the world, to experience and visit the places that he would have never gotten the chance to live as a mere human, and to be able to learn more about the Vampires as he knew only so little of them at the time. He had wanted everything that the Travellers clan had to offer, all the things that the Warriors would never have the chance to as they were supposed to stay to protect their home and the Lords.

Today, however, none of those bad memories come back to haunt him. Not when it is finally revealed that he is not the one betraying the clan, after all. And as the fight continues, it is clear that while his power and skills may not be comparable to what Mino has today, he can still use everything that he had learned during the long years of his journey to have a better comprehension of the fight—from the various fighting forms that he had encountered while he ventured into shifters territories to the artful ways of defending himself which he had learned while staying in human towns. The knowledge helps him to evade Mino’s attacks and to use all the techniques that he had incidentally learned from the different places he had been to as he fights back.

“Being on the road had never stopped me from exercising my skills,” Junhoe responded between the counterattack he threw against his rival. Catching Mino’s hand just in time before he could bury his claws into his shoulder, Junhoe leans in and adds, “I would also think that I had probably advanced more than you think, since I’ve learned a lot of new things while I was gone.”

A raging hiss escapes Mino as he fights to escape his grip, only to move far too late as Junhoe uses his other hand to send out a fatal blow right onto the Warrior’s chest, sending him flying back until his back hits the massive tree across the opening. Just then, another Warrior takes the chance to attack from the side, using the moment of distraction to steal an attack. But Junhoe has expected this to happen, and the Vampire is soon sent out flying to join his buddy as he falls away. Only that his fate isn’t quite the same, as he lands right at the small opening where the thick foliage around them doesn’t reach, allowing the sunlight slipping past the thick branches to burn him to crisp.

Exhausted from the continuous attacks, Junhoe isn’t quite ready when danger rises, as Mino quickly recovers and orders the remaining Vampires to attack him all at once. Three shadows jump in right at that moment, countering all the attacks while Junhoe falls in his exhaustion. He nearly laughs in disbelief as he sees the very same people he had been worrying about—the messenger that he was trying to rescue and Lord Seunghyun’s twin sons, the same Vampires that he had watched over and cared for a long period of time ago.

Relief washes over Junhoe as he watches his master’s sons pushing back his assailants so easily while the messenger remains close to act as their shadow before helping him get up from the ground.

“Looks like you have some interesting company. I hope you don’t mind if we invite ourselves to your little party?” Yongguk greets Junhoe with a voice that sounds almost too cheery, just like a little boy who had just found a new toy to play with.

Junhoe grunts as he stands back up on his feet and joins his adopted brothers. “By all means,” he says, still feeling the laughter bubbling in his chest as a wave of emotions overcomes him. “You might even enjoy it knowing who they are.”

The twins raise their eyebrows curiously as they both turn to look at him at the same time. “And who might these bastards be?”

Junhoe smiles, though he keeps his eyes on Mino when he answers, “They are Lord Seunghyun’s disciples. At least, they were. Your father was the one who turned them.”

The answer seems to intrigue them for reasons that Junhoe cannot seem to understand. That is, until Yongnam turns to the Vampires that they are facing, looking at every single one of them before saying, “That’s funny. We just met your brothers back there. Let’s just say that they will no longer be joining the party now.”

Mino, whose eyes have grown wide ever since the moment Junhoe mentions their master as the twins’ father, is quick to look uneasy. “The actual sons of the Lords. I thought you were merely nothing but a myth,” he suddenly says with disbelief, drawing a low chuckle from the twins.

“Oh, sorry to disappoint you. But—” Yongguk taunts him with a shrug, before he suddenly vanishes, and in a blink of an eye, is suddenly standing merely an inch away from Mino, giving the rebel a taunting grin as he playfully starts poking on his chest. “—as you can see, we are pretty real.”

As if he wants to prove a point, Yongguk doesn’t waste any time and throws the first punch, launching the entire fight to continue. This time, however, with the sons of the former leader of the Warriors clan fighting by his side, the fight escalates to a new level. Junhoe can soon feel the imbalance of power between both sides, especially when whatever it was that the three of them had encountered before reaching here had somehow managed to turn the twins to become completely unhinged. It seems like the more they fight, the more excited they become, and they seem to be enjoying it as their powers are unleashed and the more they become unrestrained in their attacks.

From the side, as he joins them in the fight, he watches in awe from the corner of his eyes as the brothers move so fluidly and efficiently, taking down their opponent one threat at a time. They move as if they are a single entity, as if they share the same mind, as one would send an enemy to the other and each time they work together to bring a Vampire down.

Junhoe feels a shiver in his spine when he witnesses one of the twins throwing one Vampire into the air, coincidentally timing it together with the blast resounding from the nearby part of the forest that it almost seems as if he is moving in the same rhythm as the battle going on nearby. Then fear laces through his heart when he watches as they continue to unmercifully put an end to the final two Vampires guarding Mino from their attacks. One twin takes one opponent in his hand, breaking the Warrior’s neck with nothing more but a flick of his wrist. Then the other twin makes his move, taunting his victim for a brief moment before he reaches out, and his hand disappears inside the Vampire’s chest, which simply dissipates into dust merely a blink of an eye later.

Have they always been this ruthless? He silently wonders as he slowly steps back, not completely sure if he should feel wary or hopeful to have such force joining his side.

Has their time away from home factored in the change that he is now seeing from them?

Does this have anything to do with their reluctance in claiming their rights as the heirs of the Lords?

Before Junhoe can even figure out the answer to his questions, Yongguk suddenly snaps ahead. One minute he is standing merely a few feet away, then a moment later, he has his claws buried in Mino’s collars while he lifts the rebel far above the ground with his legs kicking and his fangs extending, hisses of threats coming out of his mouth in his refusal to surrender.

“Our father would be disappointed to see what have become you,” Yongguk says to him with a snarl while looking straight into the rebel’s eyes. “Since he isn’t here to give his punishment for your impudence, I suppose it is our job to do it on his behalf.”

Junhoe quickly snaps out of it and steps closer to stop him. “Lord Jimin might want the information that he may have,” Junhoe warns the twin, remembering that they are on a mission where they would need to gather as much information and evidence as possible before planning their next move against the rebellions.

To this, Yongguk merely tilts his head while giving him the kind of smile that doesn’t necessarily put anyone at ease. “Don’t worry, brother. Even if he seems to be preoccupied right now, I’ll make sure that Jimin can see everything,” he responds with a grin, right before his eyes glow in silver light and his fangs begin to lengthen in a threatening manner. With a loud growl coming out of his mouth, he snaps forward and latches his mouth onto the Vampire’s neck. The rebel cries out in pain as the young Lord’s fangs sink into his skin and he continues to drink his blood, and Mino continues screaming until his voice slowly fades, completely helpless as Death unmercifully takes away his soul in the hands of his former master’s son.

On the other side of the forest, Mino’s final cry is drowned under the rumbling sounds of the battle. Neither of the brothers has caught on to what is happening on Junhoe’s side while they have their own plight to deal with.

Jimin stands right at the center of the battle with Jinhwan and Hyun standing ready by his side, while most of the Vampires that had been launching attacks after attacks against them have also stopped progressing. Many of them remain in their position, though there seems to be nothing that they could do but stand frozen the way Jimin does as they all watch the scene unfolding right in front of their eyes with wonder and a deep feeling of dread. At the same time, everything else around them is in motion, pulsing and flowing and breathing, and it takes a while for everything to sink in and for him to realise that the entire forest is the one moving.

“What the actual hell is happening right now?

Jinhwan’s question barely registers to Jimin when he is too stunned, unable to react or respond, though his brother’s overflowing emotions manage to penetrate into his mind, allowing him to feel the shock and fear that his brother shares with him. Disbelief runs through him just as intensely as they both witness the sight before them that looks awfully similar to a fever dream.

The forest had come alive.

Jimin keeps repeating these words as he tries to understand the situation, all while convincing himself that he isn’t dreaming. With his own eyes, he watches in awe as the trees are swaying as if they are marching into a war dance. Their aged, yet undeniably strong roots come rising from the ground in which they have been buried deeply for many decades, breaking the earth apart and knocking the few Vampires that had been standing far too close.

He marvels at the magnificent sight of thick branches and long vines reaching out far ahead of them, moving so fluidly as if they are mere massive-sized human limbs trying to touch their surroundings, so captivating and yet so intimidating at the same time. It seems even more surreal when the vines begin to stretch out towards the rebels spreading before them, knocking them off one rebel at a time and wrapping themselves around the ones that are trying to fight back. The vines appear like delicate fingers as they easily lift the rebels off the ground before tossing them away until they all disappear into the darkest side of the forest.

That is the moment Jiho and his followers finally snap out of their shock. Jimin can sense the intense ripples of the battle rising once again the moment Jiho turns around and their gazes meet each other. With a threatening snarl coming out of his mouth, Jiho begins roaring out commands after commands to set his loyal followers into action. The obedient ones soon part into two groups—with the first group turning back to face Jimin and his companions to carry on with the fight that had been put to halt, while the second group turns to face the moving trees, ready to defend themselves against the vines that are still reaching out to clear them out of the way and stopping them from coming any closer.

Meanwhile, those who are on the outer line of offence seem to be indecisive, caught between following their duty to fight back and listening to the urge of finding their escape, seeing now that the forest no longer remains silent under the chaos that they all had brought onto this peaceful place. Though it doesn’t really seem like the forest is making it their main priority to chase away the intruders stomping down their territory as they continue to move towards the line of Vampires, as the foliage seems to also be moving and swaying around methodically towards where the fire has been building up, doing everything they could to thwart the burning flames. It somehow gives a sense of relief for Jimin, as he has felt so powerless with his inability to do anything to stop it when the blaze was first ignited, but it only makes him feel more intrigued, for this is something that he had never once—even during those long years of travelling past this forest in the past—ever heard or seen happening in this territory.

“I’ve never heard a thing about the Resting forest holding any kind of magic that would make this possible. Have I been wrong this whole time?” Jimin finds himself questioning this as Jinhwan and Hyun slink closer to his side, forming a small, protective circle as they brace themselves against the incoming threats rising around them and fighting off the Vampires that have continued their assaults.

As they continue their fight against Jiho and his underlings, they quickly notice that they have nothing to worry about in regards to protecting themselves from the raging forest. Because for each time a wild vine comes reaching out close enough to their group, instead of laying an attack on them, the vine would find purchase on the rebels, almost as if their attacks are emphasized at making sure to keep the rebels away from Jimin and his companions.

“I sense no magic, but I do sense something similar to—” Mage Hyun begins to respond after fending off an attack, though he is unable to finish his words when the rumbling happening beneath his feet suddenly intensifies, as if the ground is breaking further apart.

At first, the three of them start looking around, wondering if the trees are the ones making this happen to knock everyone down, destroying even those who are not standing in their paths. But then they begin to realise that the trembling on the ground is no longer coming from deep inside the earth nor it is coming from the moving trees. They seem to be coming from somewhere else. Somewhere beyond the foliage. And they are coming towards them at a speed that could only be made by a certain group of animals.

A whole pack of them.

“We’re getting some company,” Jimin says to his companions who are looking around in alert, still trying to figure out what is causing this sensation and searching for danger, as they too have noticed that the vibration under their feet doesn’t seem to coincide with the madness rising around them.

“Good company or more bad ones?” Jinhwan asks him in return, still unable to look away from the trees around them, though he seems to have realised where their new company seems to be coming from as he is looking far into the darkest depth of the forest in his search.

Jinhwan tries his best to stay calm, yet as the rumbling seems to gain closer while the vile and desperate Vampires around them are growing more reckless in their assaults, fear grips his chest from within and his voice trembles a little when he softly pleads, “Please tell me they’re the good ones.”

Just then, before either Jimin or Hyun get a chance to answer him, flashes of beasts come jumping out of the shades, striking down the rebels on the outer offence line, both those who are still attacking the trees and those trying to escape.

Everything happens so fast that neither Jimin nor Jinhwan can have a clear view of what is actually happening. The smoke coming from the fire isn’t helping the case either when it is still far too thick for Jimin to see what happens beyond. But then the sounds of deep growls and snarls grow louder against the roaring blaze of the flame still dancing fiercely around them. As a part of the walls of flame slowly subsides on one side of the woods, the beasts emerge from the darkness, with their leader howling into the sky, announcing the start of a new battle.

Werewolves.

Jimin releases a growl as he sees them coming. The last battle that he had to face against werewolves is still fresh in his memory, just as fresh as the mating mark now pulsing on his shoulder. With his fangs shown through his warning hiss and his claws extended by his side, Jimin braces himself to face the fight that is coming to him. As Jinhwan and Hyun both take their positions on either side of him, Jimin comes to a harsh realisation that neither of his companions had been in the same battle before, making him doubt if he would be able to come out of this alive without the help of those who have fought against werewolves before.

Jimin prepares to take a hit as he watches a pair of werewolves jumping out of the trees and going straight at him in full speed. But the attack never comes. As if the gods above are on his side tonight, both werewolves break apart from their line of attack and leap into the air, landing straight on top of the Vampires who were attempting to attack Jimin from behind.

“What are they doing? Are they on our side?” Jimin hears Jinhwan questioning him. He starts to look around, and then all so suddenly, he is taken back to the day he spent with you before leaving, and he can hear your voice speaking to him, reminding him of what you said to him then—

“I shall have a talk with Alpha Namjoon and request for his aid. Perhaps I can convince him to fight alongside us now that we all know the true nature of Haerin’s wolf. He is one of the biggest allies that my father trusted the most. Seeing that he has my parents under his pack’s care at the moment, he might be our last hope in going against the Rogue King.”

With your words echoing through his head and seeing the werewolves forming a line of offence against the rebels, Jimin immediately becomes more alert and tries his best to identify the wolves.

The week that he spent travelling with you and Taehyung had allowed him to become familiar with your pack imprints. Both yours and Taehyung’s. Using his memories and the newly formed mating bond that he shares with you, Jimin steps aside from the fight and does a quick survey to find either you or Taehyung among the werewolves now spilling the battleground.

But after scanning the area a few times and taking a whiff of the air around him, Jimin is soon met with disappointment, realising that their new company had not come from either your pack or Taehyung’s. The new scent surrounding him throws him off for a moment, before he begins to recognise what he is sensing from them—the familiar scent that he had stumbled across in the past during his travels becomes the biggest giveaway to help him identify them, while the sight of the flashing silver fur lining up their sides, chest, and hind legs, a signature colour that is mostly known to be the physical imprint owned by one specific pack of shifters.

“I don’t suppose that these wolves were sent here by your mate,” Hyun calmly says as he shakes off an attack launched against them as a couple of Vampires still manage to escape the clutches of the forest and the incoming wolves, determined to finish what they had started and take Jimin and his group down.

“No, they were not. But I do know who they are. They are the pack that resides at the foot of the Resting mountains, the Blue Moon Pack. They are the ones who have been protecting this forest and its surrounding territory. It would only make sense that our extraneous fight has called for their interference,” Jimin answers briefly as relief slowly comes to him the moment he manages to identify them more properly once he gets the chance to look at them up close.

“Are they friends?”

“If I am right about who they are, then they would be—no, they were known to be allies to my mate’s pack,” Jimin says, remembering everything that you had told him about them.

“You can identify the Blue Moon Pack based on their imprints. As a part of the alliance who are still closely acquainted with both the shifters community and the Vampires clan, they carry a sweet scent which differentiates them from others, one that doesn’t resemble any threat in order for them to easily blend with any company they might come in contact with,” Jimin recalls your words, reminding himself about the connection that you have had with them. “They had always been our pack’s strongest and most loyal ally, and their loyalty has always been for our founding Alphas. That’s why even after I had lost my Fated, the Alpha’s second son, and after our mating which marked the alliance ended with his passing, they still kept their pledge of alliance to our pack, because they had made their pledge specifically to my father.”

Hoping that the situation has yet to change with your pack’s takeover, Jimin continues to do a thorough scan between the werewolves that are now fully engaged in the brawl against the Vampire rebels on the other side of the battleground. Doing his best not to lose his focus on fighting off Jiho and his underlings, Jimin struggles to find one specific wolf between the fighters from the Blue Moon Pack who would be the one closely bonded to you.

The one wolf whose presence and role would matter the most.

“Junmyeon, the current Alpha and my former brother in mating is a large grey wolf with a pair of white streaks on the side of his face and silver fur all over his chest, and he carries the scent of burnt vanilla which comes from his pack’s imprint, though you might be able to sense his Alpha blood the moment you are near. Blue Moon Pack wolves are never shy in showing off their ranks, even towards outsiders,” your words return to him just as Jimin finally sees him, the Alpha, the grey wolf which appears much larger than the rest, his striking appearance makes him stand out as he leads the pack, running in front of his fighters as they march towards the Vampires that are slightly stronger and can move faster than their massive paws. Watching him move, Jimin quickly recognises him as the same wolf that had released his warning howl to announce their arrival earlier in the battle.

The grey wolf turns to look at him just then, his golden eyes glow brighter as his gaze meets Jimin’s, as if the Alpha wolf is trying to identify the Vampire the same way Jimin is doing the same to him. Leaving behind the brawl between his pack members and the rebels, the Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack makes his way towards Jimin and his companions with a couple of wolves planking either side of his. Judging from their size and postures, Jimin can only assume that they are either the Alpha’s second-in-command or his enforcers, staying close to assist the Alpha in battle while providing protection as he leads them into the battle.

Jimin watches as a few Vampires come into his path, yet Alpha Junmyeon takes them all down easily, tearing them apart with his canines and massive claws as he marches through them. Within moments, the Alpha and his defenders are standing by Jimin’s side, and the newly formed group work together to fend off the multiple attacks coming at them from Jiho and his loyal followers that still remain.

Jimin has been so caught up with the fight and the chaos that he only notices belatedly that the flames around them have been diminished. Only the scent of burning ashes remains, accompanied by the scent of blood which is coming from the battle, as the wounded have increased with the werewolves taking part in it.

The sound of a loud snap catches Jimin’s attention, and he turns just in time to watch as one of Jiho’s underlings slashes a young werewolf fighter with his sharp claws, throwing the beast out of his path. A thick branch extends from the massive oak tree that is right at the center of the battle, capturing the fallen werewolf with its vine before the Vampire manages to snatch him right back in to give him the final blow to end him. Another vine snaps out, catching the Vampire in its clutch before it begins to squeeze tightly, drawing a loud, painful roar from the helpless bloodsucker.

The giant oak tree doesn’t stop there, as its branches continue to reach out between protecting the werewolves and slapping the rebels away. Looking up from where he is standing, Jimin continues to analyze the tree’s movement as it seems to be moving and swaying towards them. Though the tree doesn’t seem to be straying too far from its original position across the opening, but far enough for its strong branches to reach out to where they are all standing, confirming their suspicions about the forest taking their side and protecting them from danger.

Jimin feels his brother stopping right next to him as they watch the scene together, finally realising now that the forest has been moving systematically and in tune with the werewolves’ attacks, as if everything has been planned out and they are working together in defeating the intruders.

“Do you think the werewolves have anything to do with what the forest has become? Do they have a mage with them?” Jimin hears Jinhwan speaks softly to him once he has caught on to what is happening and is asking the same questions that are plaguing Jimin’s mind as he watches the scene curiously.

The answer comes instantly from Hyun, the moment the Siren mage returns to his position beside Jimin. “No, they don’t. That’s what I was trying to tell you both. I sensed no magic from around us, but I do sense a Vampiric presence, a dark power that is much similar to yours, Lord Jimin.”

“You’re right, this isn’t the work of a magician, nor it is from the werewolves, though I’m quite sure that they are in this together,” Jimin says, as he keeps his gaze on the moving vines that still have the screaming rebel in their clutches, playing him like a paper doll as they continue to swing the bloodsucker back and forth—as if he is nothing but a puppet to play with. A smile immediately grows on Jimin’s face when he realises this, and he slowly begins to understand what has truly been happening and who is behind all of this.

“No,” he says, as his grin slowly grows wider. “This is the work of the Puppet Master.”

Hearing Jimin’s words, Jinhwan’s head snaps in shock. “Well, shit—I was not expecting that at all,” Jinhwan muses with a surprised chuckle.

His eyes scan the top of the trees more closely before they grow wide when a figure appears at the top of the massive oak tree. Up there, perching comfortably between the thick branches while remaining partly hidden under the layer of shaking leaves, Kim Hanbin appears in sight, their dear brother who had been missing ever since the night the brothers were ambushed by the rebels at Ambrose’s tavern.

“Hello there, brothers! Have you all missed me?” Hanbin greets them with a wide grin while leaning forward, allowing them to see his face more clearly. He keeps his arms raised at his sides, his fingers continue moving and dancing as if there are invisible threads attached between each tip of his fingers and the moving branches and vines around them.

Jimin laughs at himself, unable to believe that he had in fact forgotten his brother’s powers and skills. It is a special ability that has been passed on from generation to generation within General Kim’s family bloodline, perfected by General Kim—Hanbin’s father—himself during the time he was in power. It had become the secret weapon which had been beneficial during the Blood War, one that had played a part in bringing the Vampires their victory in the war against the Royal Vampires and their followers.

Back when he was a child, Jimin had witnessed Hanbin utilising this power more than once, when young Hanbin used to play around with his powers during the time the Orphans and the Lords’ children were playing in the woods surrounding their home castle. Hanbin’s ability to control everything that he touches with his bare hands, whether they are living beings or inanimate objects, had given him the nickname that the Orphans had used to call him with growing up.

The puppet master.

Many decades had passed since the last time Jimin witnessed his brother playing around with his powers, controlling the small things that he had found during the times they were preparing to start their journey as young Travellers—from wooden furnitures, shrubbery, handmade puppets, his own pets, to his own friends and brothers who became willing victims to help Hanbin practice his skills. Seeing Hanbin in action now, Jimin believes that his brother has found a way to expand his powers further, becoming much stronger and bolder with his powers. As if he knows that Jimin is marvelling at his special skill, Hanbin gives him a smug smile while lifting his chin up, not showing any signs of knowing how worried his brothers had been about his disappearance.

The battle is slowly coming to its end, with the rebels being completely defeated and the wounded ones retreating. But the reunion with their missing brother wouldn’t be the only family affair that is about to happen when Junhoe suddenly returns, appearing from beyond the line of trees with merely a few bruises that are already healing while looking worse for wear, but still standing strong and alive, much to Jimin’s relief. And he is not alone. Following right behind him are the identical twins, Yongguk and Yongnam, the sons of Lord Seunghyun. Jimin has no idea whether to feel relieved or intrigued that they are arriving just in time to catch up with the last of the battle. He can only feel sorry for the rebels who are trying to escape only to be caught by the twins. Knowing what the twins are capable of, he can already tell that their fate wouldn’t end well in their hands.

With the flames having been successfully extinguished, the forest rumbles with its one last move, and the massive trees that had become a part of the fight are slowly retreating into their designated positions, settling down right where they belong. All but only one of them remains—the old oak tree that Hanbin is currently riding on, still looming above the battleground as he stays to watch over the end of the fight.

“Shall we finish up here as well?” Mage Hyun asks him, referring to their remaining opponents who are now at the mercy of the werewolves assisting them. Most of the pack members have retreated as well, leaving behind the Alpha and his enforcers who seem to be handling the situation perfectly well.

Jimin knows that he still has some unfinished business with the rebels, as he had identified at least a few who had been there on the night he was poisoned. But Jimin is out for blood only for one particular Vampire, the one who is responsible for setting things in motion—the rebellion, the poisoning of the Lords, the ambush against his brothers, and most likely, the distribution of poison all the way to the East side of the continent, where the werewolves packs reside.

From the corner of his eyes, Jimin catches the sight of Jiho slipping away, taking the chance of the final pause of the battle to find his escape. Jimin knows that he wouldn’t be fast enough to stop him from running, yet he still tries his best, using the last will of power that he has to follow Jiho before he could get too far.

Seeing this, Hanbin, who still holds control of the old giant oak tree that he is perched on, raises his arm to reach out towards the Vampire’s path. Under his will, one of the trees in his escape path sways, and then its long vines snap out and wrap themselves around Jiho to stop him from escaping into the dark woods. The Vampire can only release a loud roar in rage when he is lifted off the ground, completely powerless when he has both of his arms pinned to his side.

“Is this one giving you trouble, brother?” Hanbin calls out tauntingly while he swings Jiho back and forth right above Jimin’s head.

“He’s the one behind everything,” Jimin responds to him while trying his best to stay calm, while his answer triggers Hanbin’s rage, knowing exactly what he meant. As he clenches his grip, the vines wrapping Jiho’s body tighten around him, causing the Vampire to cry out in pain. The sound of his bones snapping under pressure echoes through the woods, and Jimin quickly turns to stop his brother from going any further.

‘Hanbin, keep Jiho alive. He has all the information that we may need,’ Jimin sends out his command into his brother’s mind who simply nods at him, though his angry frown slowly turns into a wicked smile when Jimin begins sending images into his head, letting him know what he has planned for the traitor.

Standing right under his former comrade, Jimin looks down to see the leather pouch dangling from Jiho’s waist and growls, knowing what the trickster merchant has in his possession.

‘And it seems like he has a lot of things to answer to us,’ Jimin adds while staring straight into Jiho’s eyes, threatening him silently, and feeling pleased when he can see a glint of fear flashing under the traitor’s challenging gaze when he looks back at him in defeat.

While Jiho and his captured underlings are being taken away by the members of the Blue Moon Pack to a safe place where they would be confined for a premeditated time, Jimin returns to join his group, leaving Hanbin to watch over the transfer of the prisoners until he can join him later. Junhoe had found Jinhwan and Hyun while he was away. The twins and another Vampire who seems to be a messenger are also present with them.

“Junhoe was supposed to bring us to you,” Jimin says to the twins as he comes to them, skipping all the formal greetings and the pleasantries altogether.

Yongguk shrugs at this and glances at Junhoe before finally answering. “So he said. But we heard that something was boiling in this peaceful forest, so we figured it would be interesting to take a look and see what was happening. We were getting bored sitting back in the wastelands without anything fun or exciting to do anyway,” he explains calmly, while Jimin and the others immediately perk up at what he had just said.

“The wastelands,” Jimin muses, surprised to know that the twins had set foot in the deserted area of the continent that no one had dared to venture into. No wonder that he and his brothers had so much trouble tracking them down. Out of all the places that the Travellers clan had ventured into, the wastelands is the last place that would come to anyone’s mind.

Because nobody had ever gone to the wastelands. Not since the Ancient War.

“How many of you were there? What were you doing there, exactly?”

Hearing his question, Yongguk only grins widely. “Now that, is quite a story to tell. But we should probably have our cousin explain it to you since he knows how to word things better,” he says while tapping his chin as his twin brother chuckles deeply beside him.

Jimin raises his brows as he exchanges gaze briefly with Jinhwan. “Your cousin?”

Yongnam opens his mouth to answer, but then stops himself when he catches someone approaching them. “The werewolves will show you where to go,” he says, looking over Jimin’s shoulder to let him know that someone is there to speak with him.

Turning around, Jimin is surprised to find that the Alpha is standing right behind him. Now appearing in his human form, while wearing a simple attire of all black to properly present himself in front of the Vampires, Alpha Junmyeon lowers his head to politely greet him.

“Forgive us for the interruption. My name is Kim Junmyeon, the current reigning Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack. I would like to invite you and your entourage to visit our pack to rest and recover after the battle,” he says to Jimin. His eyes glow with faint golden light when he looks straight into Jimin’s eyes, smiling warmly as he adds, “There are also a few guests that we are currently hosting in our pack who might be pleased to be reunited with your company. I’m sure you would be interested to see them as well.”

➥ Author’s Note | the brothers are (mostly) reunited! Celebrate Kim Hanbin's return and stream BTBT by B.I (Hanbin)! Thank you for reading!

➥ Special Appearance: B.I (Hanbin)

#jimin scenarios #jimin angst #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #bts jimin #park jimin #bts scenario #bts fanfic #kpop scenario #kpop writing #kpop fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #series: shifters

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lazypeachsoul · 4 years ago

Text

you promise?

Request: by anon “Could you write an Osferth drabble. About anything you'd like. Please and thank you.”

Warnings: Nothing.

Word count: 1,8k

A/N: Here's the first fic for The Last Kingdom Week! Hope you enjoy some sweet baby monk. I might have gone overboard with this story, but I can't help it when it comes to osferth. Enjoy 🌼

The streets of Cookham were bustling with workers returning home from the fields that surrounded the village. Thanks to Lord Uhtred and his fame the once forgotten town had become a stop for every merchant that traveled through Wessex and the workload had increased. And you were no different than any of those other people.

The sun was now setting and it was your time to return the children you minded back to their homes, where their overworked parents would take care of them. It wasn’t normal for common workers to have child minders, normally leaving the kids at home with their mothers, but Cookham was busier than ever and women were working the fields too. And that left you to take care of the little rascals that lived in town.

You had tried to work as a seamstress and at the alehouse, but nothing seemed to really suit you. Well, at least until you started taking care of the kids. You didn’t get much pay since the people you worked for were underpaid to begin with, but the little you got you saved for a new fabric, or a sweet treat or for those times you would meet Osferth at the alehouse and you wanted to prove him that you were a hard working woman.

And how you loved those times. Osferth seemed to always be busy either training or meeting with the rest of what had now been named the “Cookham squad”. Lord Uhtred and his loyal warriors were the talk of all Wessex and a great source of gossip for the entire town. Lord Uhtred and his beautiful wife Gisela took care of the people that lived inside their walls. Then there was Finan, the loud irishman who seemed to bring joy and fun to any occasion celebrated, always close to him was Sihtric, the mysterious dane who didn’t speak much but said a lot with just a look. And the last one was the monk who is not really a monk Osferth.

When you first met him you were trying to learn to become a barmaid and accidentally tripped on his foot, sending a pitcher of ale flying everywhere and leaving you both embarrassed and asking for mutual forgiveness. Since that moment, you had started to meet together at the alehouse every few days, providing you with a nice friendship but keeping all the rules a respectable young unmarried woman should follow.

And that’s exactly where you were headed after dropping your last child at home with his grateful mother. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the familiar blonde mop of hair sitting on one of the outside benches, and you had to admit to yourself that maybe it was more than just casual meetings at the alehouse. At that moment Osferth turned around and waved in your direction and with a small wave you made your way to the bench, sitting in front of him.

“I thought you didn’t see me, you looked distracted.” Osferth's sweet voice spoke and you had to admit he was right, you almost missed it because of your constant daydreaming about the man. But you couldn’t admit that.

“Excuse me, the children were wild and I’m extremely tired. Must be because of the nice weather.”

“Maybe we should meet another day, I wouldn’t want to tire you more Lady-” “No!”

You hadn’t been able to stop the agitated answer from coming out when you heard his dismissal. You were tired but never too tired to stop meeting Osferth. You could feel your cheeks hot with embarrassment and you tried to clear your throat to diffuse the tension.

“I mean, I would rather stay here with you and relax with a friend.”

Osferth’s face seemed to harden at your words but as soon as the barmaid brought you two cups of ale everything seemed to go back to normal, except for a small curious voice at the back of your head wanting to know why the expression changed.

“A friend. Of course. I enjoy the time we spend together too.” He nodded his head, his blonde hair falling in front of his eyes before taking a sip from his cup. “The weather is really nice so I wouldn’t blame the children. Lord Uhtred told us that the weather would turn nicer before we leave.”

You felt the ale you had been drinking get stuck in your throat but you tried to conceal it with a soft cough so as to not cause a scene in the packed alehouse. Leave? They were leaving?

“Are you leaving soon? You didn’t say anything before.”

“Lord Uhtred just confirmed it this morning. The King has requested the Lord’s help in some negotiations with the danes. He thought it best for us to accompany him since his history with the king is not the most amicable.”

You nodded along as he spoke but your brain was overworking itself trying to comprehend the situation. They were leaving to assist the King of Wessex and they would leave Cookham unattended for God knows how long. Of course the real reason you were worried was not the village, Lady Gisela could take care of it and more without a problem, you were worried about Osferth and you. Was there even an 'Osferth and you' to worry about?

“That’s...great that the King and our Lord are speaking again. Maybe it might help us get resources from the crown.” You tried to excuse your previous silence but it must have been obvious you were deep in thought because Osferth looked at you with a curious face. “And when are you leaving?”

“We’re expected to depart tomorrow morning. Apparently those matters are very important and require us to be there as soon as possible.” He shrugged in a move to downplay the entire situation.

Silence was the only thing that could be heard from your side of the bench, a deep contrast from the rest of the groups happily chatting and drinking. The table was silent but your mind was not, still overthinking every word your companion had said. You were overthinking so much that you almost missed his quiet voice.

“I am going to miss you.” Osferth spoke and as soon as you looked at him again he seemed to flush. “And our conversations. Or friendly conversations as...friends.”

You wanted to laugh at the poor man in front of you. In the many months you had known Osferth you had never seen him that flustered in his life, cheeks and ears bright red and a stuttering mess.

“I’m going to miss you too Osferth. And our friendly meetings.” You placed your hand next to his on the table next to his, not wanting to overstep and make the poor man more uncomfortable.

He moved his hand carefully almost imperceptibly until his fingers touched yours and a warm feeling ran down your entire arm from your hand. He seemed to be the one deep in thought at the moment and you almost wished you could pick at his brain to see what was going on. Is that how he felt every time you zoned out?

“Maybe you could remember me-” “Of course I’m going to remember you Osferth, don’t be silly. You are not going to war, only a mission for the king.”

A nervous chuckle was the only thing he could let out now and his reactions were starting to worry you a bit. If it was only a small trip he shouldn't have been that nervous.

“Let me finish. Maybe if I gave you something that you could remember me by, it would be easier.”

“You don’t have to do that, Osferth. I will remember you anyways.” You tried to reason with him but you couldn’t stop him from moving to look for something in the pockets of his robes.

After a bit of fussing with the robes he placed his closed fist on top of your hand, opening it just enough for something small and metallic to fall into your hand. Moving your hand closer you found a small fragile chain that seemed to have been at least as old as you.

“It’s not much, just a scrap of metal if you try to sell it. But it was my mother’s, the only thing I have from her. I hid it from the monks when I was growing up so they wouldn’t take it away. Carried it into battle with me every time I’ve fought too.”

Every single word of the explanation seemed to make your throat close a bit more and your eyes glossier. You knew Osferth had no real memories with his mother and you could imagine how important that bracelet must have been for him.

“I can’t accept it, it’s so important to you. Why would you give it to me?” You debated with your head shaking and trying to push the chain into his hand again. “Don’t be silly, Osferth. It’s your mother’s bracelet.”

“You must keep it. Please.” He kept his fist tightly closed to avoid you giving him back the piece of jewelry. “I want you to have it.”

“But I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

You kept trying to pry his fist open, all in vain because he wouldn’t even budge. You wanted to get up and hug him for such a meaningful gesture and hit him at the same time for wanting to part with such a meaningful piece.

“You have.” He spoke, grabbing your hand and halting your movements. “Maybe you can give me your promise.”

You looked at him curiously at what his proposal might be. Maybe he just wanted you to take care of Lady Gisela, you knew how he saw her as the mother he never had. Or maybe he wanted you to care for Lord Uhtred’s children.

“You can promise me that once I’m back from Wincester you will allow me to properly court you.” He explained and you felt your heart stop. “I-If you want, of course.”

Courting Osferth was not something you had thought about, mainly because you had nothing to offer. Your parents didn’t have fields or many resources they could offer a prospective husband. And Osferth was a warrior, so you thought settling down seemed to be out of the picture for him. But you had to admit the idea made your stomach turn in the best way possible.

You realized you had been thinking for a long time and still hadn’t given an answer when you felt him squeezing your hand. Could you promise him something like that?

“I promise.” Of course you could, the idea of a lifetime with Osferth only made you more excited about life. “Only you have to promise me to come back soon.”

He nodded with enthusiasm, moving his hands to take the small chain from your delicate hand and clasp it around your wrist. This mission hadn’t even started and you already wanted it to end.

Taglist: @webreathfandoms @thebohemianpenguin @emilyhufflepufftlk @solinarimoon

#the last kingdom imagine #the last kingdom x reader #tlk imagine #tlk x reader #osferth x reader #osferth imagine #tlk week #myfic

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt: Something causes Lan Qiren to just SNAP, go absolutely fucking feral, and run off to become a rogue cultivator.

Beautifully Spent

- Chapter 1 -

aka Five Times Lan Qiren Left The Lan Sect Behind

“It is your duty, Qiren.”

“Is it?” Lan Qiren asked coldly. “I believe you’re thinking of my brother. You might remember him – the sect leader?”

He’d never spoken that coldly to anyone, least of all an honored elder, one of his own teachers, but he had no choice.

Ever since he was young, Lan Qiren wanted to become a traveling musician - to wander the world freely, without the burdens that would fall on his older brother, the prospective sect leader. Even as he got older, he'd never quite let go of that ambition, refining it until it had become not only a dream but a plan.

He would see that plan come to fruition, no matter what it took.

His teacher looked at him helplessly. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked. “You know your brother has chosen seclusion –”

“I know that in the eyes of the sect I have never been a quarter the man he is,” Lan Qiren said quietly. “I know that in each instance that we have argued, you have all taken his side. I know that I was asked, time and time again, to yield – because he is the elder, because he is the heir, because he is the more talented of us two. I have always yielded, because I am a filial son, a good brother, and I love my sect. I have always yielded.”

His teacher cast his eyes down to the ground.

An acknowledgement of guilt.

“I will not yield this time,” Lan Qiren said simply. “This is the rest of my life, honored teacher. This is my entire life. For once, let himbe the one to yield – to do his duty to his sect, as he was always meant to.”

“But –”

“I have always been here for him.” Lan Qiren did not allow him to interrupt. “I have been his scapegoat when things have not gone his way, I have been his pawn in political games, I have even been his punching bag when he needed to vent his irrational anger. Everything he has had the freedom to do, he has done because he has had me here. If I were not here, would he be able to go into seclusion?”

His teacher was silent.

“He would not,” Lan Qiren concluded. “To go into seclusion when you are the only option to lead the sect is to be an unfilial descendant of our ancestors. And so, if I am not here, he would be obligated to live up to his duties.”

“His heart has just been broken. Do you have no empathy for him?”

“As much as I do for the woman who was forced by circumstances to agree to marry him, and no more.”

“Qiren…”

“Think of it as me being dead, honored teacher,” Lan Qiren said, and ignored his teacher’s flinch at such inauspicious words. “Do you need me to remove my forehead ribbon before I go?”

“Qiren! Of course not!”

“Ask my brother,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “He will have the final word, as usual, and he does not like not getting his way.”

He left that day, his head held high.

He did his best not to think of his brother, who had, in his own way, wanted freedom, too.

Lan Qiren travelled, after that. It was just as he’d always planned it: quiet nights along forest paths, visits to small towns in out-of-the-way corners of the world – inquiring and then solving any issues they had that required a cultivator, and playing for them when no such issues remained. He had anticipated hardship, knowing himself to be a rich young master who’d never really faced the world; he hadn’t anticipated kindness: a few married women in one town taking the time to show him how to do laundry, giggling at him all the while, a group of young woodcutters in the next the best way to forage and cook food when one was hungry, a merchant and his wife teaching him how to bargain to avoid getting cheated…in time, through the generosity and enthusiasm of others, he learned all the skills he needed.

He refused payment for night-hunts – amazingly, his sect did not cut him off as he’d almost expected them to, and he was still able to collect his usual allowance – but accepted it for his music, and from his place behind his guqin he watched, quiet and content, as life swirled around him in all its myriad forms.

In between music and night-hunts, he idly taught some skills to the children in the towns he passed through – the vast majority were common people, completely lacking in cultivation skills, but his sect’s rules and the philosophy behind them were applicable in far more situations than that, and basic martial skills in even more. Whenever he stayed somewhere for more than a few days, he added in lessons in basic literacy, mostly because the idea of not having books at hand was abhorrent to him; the parents involved were generally more grateful that he was keeping their children out of trouble than especially interested in what he was teaching them, but it’d never hurt anyone to know a little bit of reading.

When he happened upon a place already governed by another sect, he did not take particular care either to avoid or to approach them; if they happened to meet, and to invite him to stay with them, he would. Lao Nie tracked him down six times for that very purpose, citing increasingly less plausible excuses, before Lan Qiren finally agreed to make the Unclean Realm a regular stop on his travels just to make him stop; in contrast, Cangse Sanren just showed up at the camp he had made for himself one day, her husband as always by her side, and simply refused to leave for the next three months.

He did not visit the Cloud Recesses.

Not when he heard about how his brother had, however reluctantly, come out from seclusion and begun to do the work of sect leader, and do it well, the Lan sect prospering under his leadership as they had always expected to. Not when he got news that his nephew was born; not when he heard that one nephew had become two. Not even when he heard that his brother’s wife had died, though the thought of that miserable woman’s self-inflicted fate had moved him enough to write a letter of condolence to his brother – their first contact in seven years.

Lan Qiren did not expect anything to come of that impulse, though perhaps he should have known better: it wasn’t more than a week later that he received a letter in return, the heavy formal parchment used by the Lan sect as familiar to him as the back of his hand, his brother’s equally formal calligraphy very nearly as familiar.

The words on it weren’t familiar at all.

I have made a terrible mistake, his brother wrote. I need your help.

Lan Qiren was perhaps not especially filial to his sect, having abandoned it as readily as he did – but despite everything, he did love his brother.

He went home.

“Lan Huan, courtesy name Xichen,” his brother said, nodding at the small child, pudgy and fat and adorable, quivering like a pudding even as he tried to force a smile onto his face, clutching onto a baby only a few months old, the little one strangely solemn despite the inexpert manhandling. “Lan Zhan, courtesy name Wangji.”

Lan Qiren was not as shy as he used to be, and he had gotten better at dealing with children. He knelt down until he was level with them, though he did not force himself to adopt any expression that did not come naturally. “Hello,” he said. “I’m your uncle.”

“Hello, uncle,” Lan Xichen said.

Lan Qiren held out a hand and waited, even as his brother took his leave, busier than ever. It took a little while, but Lan Xichen eventually put his own hand in his, and walked with him; after a little while, he even entrusted him with little Lan Wangji, fussing until Lan Qiren had tucked him into the corner of his arm in a manner he found appropriate.

By the time his brother found them again, Lan Xichen was chattering on and on about his xiao lessons, while Lan Qiren nodded along and added his own observations – he was decently skilled at the xiao himself; while it was not his preferred instrument, there were times when it was easier to carry than a guqin, and he had had time, when he was younger, to indulge himself in learning more than one instrument.

When Lan Xichen saw his father, he fell silent at once. He did not hide behind Lan Qiren’s robes, though Lan Qiren half-thought he wanted to – his little hand trembled in Lan Qiren’s palm.

“Would you like to take your brother back?” Lan Qiren asked him. Lan Wangji was a good baby, crying only a few times, each time responding well and easily to the usual things a child his age wanted – milk, a burp, attention. Moreover, Lan Xichen was good with him, thoughtful and careful; Lan Qiren had no concerns entrusting the baby to him, and Lan Xichen brightened a little when he realized that, nodding happily and taking Lan Wangji, pausing only a moment to glance worriedly at his father before scurrying off.

Lan Qiren looked at his brother.

“He’s afraid of me,” his brother said. “You can tell, can’t you?”

A blind man could tell. Lan Qiren said nothing.

“Wangji cries whenever I hold him, too, even though he almost never cries the rest of the time. He’s not even a year old, and he already knows.”

“Knows?”

His brother looked out into the horizon. His hands were behind his back, clasped in a formal pose. “That I’ll ruin them, too.”

Lan Qiren put his own hands behind his back as well. After a few moments, he said, “You care for them both. That’s not nothing.”

Their own father hadn’t managed even that. He had treated Lan Qiren with utter indifference, while treasuring his eldest beyond the point of reason, encouraging him to always think only of himself; the seeds of their estrangement were planted long before either of them knew it, each of them learning different lessons from their father’s mismanagement – Lan Qiren how to be inferior and doubt himself, his brother to be self-absorbed and careless with the feelings of others; Lan Qiren to bend himself to the point of breaking, his brother to refuse to bend at all.

It had served neither of them well.

“I don’t know what love is, except possession,” his brother said. “Xichen torments himself to try to live up to my expectations, and all I’ve managed to teach him, other than fear, is how to say yes to everything just to make people go away. I find myself falling into the habit of thinking of him as an extension of myself, which is still more than I can do with Wangji, who doesn’t even cry like a regular child should…” He paused. “You didn’t cry much as a child either.”

Lan Qiren glanced at his brother, surprised. He hadn’t known his brother had paid enough attention to him back then to even notice.

His brother smiled thinly. “Our family is known for its quiet children, did you know? I hadn’t, but they told me after Wangji was born. Apparently, there’s a few in every generation: a little slow, a little strange, with minds that don’t work quite the same way as the rest of us. The ones that don’t like to look you in the eye – sometimes they learn to speak, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they’re brilliant. As babies, they’re generally a little too quiet. There were three in our father’s generation, but in ours there was only you. And now, there’s Wangji…”

He shook his head.

“I wronged you before, Qiren. I don’t want to do it again – I don’t want to know what sort of father I’d be to a child like you. I’m not willing to risk waiting to find out, either.”

When Lan Qiren left the Cloud Recesses, he took with him a qiankun pouch weighed down with more money than he’d ever had in his life, two children, one smiling happily as the other burbled quietly, and his brother’s trust.

He had no idea what to do with any of it.

#mdzs #lan qiren #my fic #my fics #not set in the same universe as spilled pearls #but will probably make the most sense if you've read that first #beautifully spent

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

Note

For the requests if you're game?

Four and Warriors dynamic since we don't see it much?

Also you're awesome and absolutely don't have to do this if you don't want haha

So, words aren't nice to me today, and your prompt really helped with that. I'm sorry I didn't get to it sooner! But I'm glad I did it today. The verb tenses are a bit off and all over, but I really like the pretense.

For context, this is something that used to happen with me and my dad when he was in pain. I have no clue why it works, but it does somehow? For him anyway. Anyway, as I am the shorty of my family, I figured Four could take my place here :)

“Four, how tall are you?”

Don’t kill him. Green whispered, whether to himself or to his brothers none of them knew.

Why would he even need to know that? The grouchier voice in his head huffed out as hazel eyes shot up to meet the captain’s blue.

Was that particularly necessary? Vio groaned, and if he’d had a physical form the color in question would likely have just flopped over tiredly.

“Four foot four.” They answered curtly, turning their gaze back down to the sword in their hand as they continued to work over its length.

Warriors chuffed out a strangled sort of noise across from them, whether it be from pain, surprise or laughter they didn’t know, and as long as the captain didn’t push, they’d give him a little grace. The poor man was in enough pain as it was, and it really would be a shame to have him writhing on the ground if they kicked him in some... painful places.

“Really?” The man wheezed. “Please tell me you’re joking?”

They rolled their eyes.

Permission to kick him in the nuts?

One minute, let me think about it.

Pities sakes you two, we are not kicking the captain! Vio scolded. We’ll dye his hair while he sleeps or sew a patch on his tunic while he walks or something, not...oy vey.

“I’m four-foot-five.” They corrected aloud. “Happy?”

Sharp eyes met the captain’s again, four voices fighting over whether to cause harm or not. “Huh.”

Guys, look at him! Red huffed. He’s not even able to sit up straight! Give him a break, this one time?

Agreement rang in their mind. Wars was in pretty awful shape. The man had pulled his back while trying to heft a wounded Twilight through the forest the other day, and while he’d insisted the entire time that he had it handled, he’d come to regret it the next day when he woke up nearly too sore to move. They all teased Time about being an Old Man, and it was well known that Legend’s arthritis gave him trouble on some days, but neither the vet not their leader had ever moved as slowly as the captain this morning when they’d been on the road, and Time had had to call an early halt simply because Wars was clearly in so much pain.

The man currently lay on his stomach on the ground at the edge of camp, trying to stretch out his strained back and staring as Four with an odd look in his eyes. “Could you do me a favor?”

Could you not mock our height?

I thought we liked our height?

We do, but we don’t need to be teased for it!!!

“What do you need?” They eventually settled on, setting their sword aside and giving the captain their full attention.

“Stand on my back.” Warriors answered.

They blinked, startled. Once, twice, thrice, four times at the man. “Pardon?”

“Stand on my back.” Warriors repeated himself, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But-”

Is he bonkers? Captain, we are not cracking your spine to put you out of your misery? Blue frowned, confused.

We’d hurt him doing that, why would he even ask?

This is Warriors, he’s not known for having all the lights on a good day.

“Aren’t you in pain?” Red managed to take the forefront, worry spilling into his voice as he stared down at where the captain lay on the ground.

The man smiled, shaking his head slightly only to wince and instead offer one of his charming smiles. “It helps. Just trust me, ‘kay?”

And what were they supposed to do? Even Legend had stepped up to offer help with the pain this afternoon, not that it would do much good for Warriors’ specific problem, but it had earned the vet a warm chuckle and a head ruffle, resulting in much squawking and insults as the vet protested the action. Wild had searched his slate for supplies to make a cure, and Time had called a halt for the day’s travels entirely. Sky had even offered what little help he could provide, but while offers of aid had come from everywhere, there hadn’t been anything that had worked.

But Wars was claiming that actively stepping on the injury would help it, and as absurd as it sounded, the captain seemed utterly confident in it, eyes almost pleading as they shifted where they sat.

“It won’t, I don’t know, mess up your back at all? Are you sure-”

“Goddesses, Four! It’ll be fine.” The captain huffed desperately, just do it, please?”

Now they understood why Warriors could charm discounts and special deals out of merchants and inn-keepers, his royal blue eyes looked utterly pitiful and almost tearful as they stared up at them, pleading and wide. The effect was ruined though when Wars added a tiny little pout that sent Vio reeling with laughter as Blue and Green stifled their own, Red cooing softly in their head.

“Alright.” The laughter of three of the four colors spilled over in a light chuckle as the smithy pulled themselves to their feet, stepping over hesitantly and setting one foot on Warriors’ stretched out back.

“Go on.” Wars prompted, chuckling fondly. “It won’t hurt me, I’ll tell you if it does, okay?”

That didn’t help at all. They weren’t big, they knew that, but they weren’t as slight as they looked, they were smithies after all, and they were a solid little brick of muscle mass. Warriors may be certain it would be okay, but they sure weren’t.

“Four, I’m literally begging you. Step on me.”

The smithy’s nose wrinkled and they pulled back. “That is incredibly weird sounding.”

“Step.” Warriors ordered.

“This is so weird!” A nervous laugh fell from their lips. “How does this even help?”

“Just do it!” The captain groaned. “It helps, I promise. I can’t explain it, but it does.”

One tentative foot pressed against the captain’s back again, only for the smithy to back off, earning a huff in annoyance from the captain. “Four-”

“Let me take my boots off first.” They murmured, shivering off the awkward feeling that came from stepping on of their brothers. But they could only avoid Wars’ pleading gaze for so long and once their shoes are properly put to the side, they had no valid excuse to not ‘help’ the man.

How does this even help him?

Do we care? We have an excuse to step on him!

Vio, I think you spent too much time around Shadow. Stepping on people isn’t funny.

It’s funny if it’s Warriors. Vio sounded particularly satisfied with himself at the moment, and the others could only sigh at that, finally giving in to the captain's request as Vio pushed the body forwards until they are standing, fully, on Warriors’ back.

“Oh, yes, thank you.” The captain’s voice comes out in a relieved sigh. “A bit lower if you could- that's the- yes, right there. Oh gosh.” Blonde hair met the dirt as their resident “pretty boy” let his face fall to rest on the ground. A satisfied sigh escaping him, albeit muffled by the earth. “That is so much better. Thank you, Four.”

“How does this help?” They frowned, staring down at where the man spread out on the ground, utterly limp and incredibly boney under their feet.

“No clue.” Comes the muffled reply, no attempt made to explain as the captain continued to let himself melt into the earth. “But it always works like a charm, so I don’t question it.”

Always?

“Who do you usually have step on you?” They ask, standing awkwardly on a boney spine any trying their hardest to keep their balance so they don’t slip and tumble onto Warriors’ head and give him a concussion on top of everything.

“My kids.” Comes the easy reply, as if the words don’t send them reeling enough that they almost do fall. “Mask jumped on top of e once to try and wake me up. I wasn’t asleep, but it was a tough battle the day before. Come to find out having a smallish person stand on you does wonders! My younger siblings used to do it too, but then they all hit growth-spurts.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” They chuckled easily, finding a comfortable placement for their feet as Warriors’ back rises and falls with soft laughter.

“Believe it or not,” The captain rumbles, the vibrations trailing up their legs and making them stifle a giggle. “I’m the short one in the family. The eldest, but the Hylia forsaken shortest.” There’s very nearly a pout in the man's voice and they failed to hold back their laughter as they look down at him.

”You’re the shortest?”

“To my eternal torment.” Comes the groaned reply, and all the colors can do in reaction is laugh.

Later, when the others finally look over and see what’s happening, there are shouts and concerned looks from the heroes when they see their shortest standing on the previously sore and aching back of their tallest, but for now, Four gets to tease the captain for being short; something they never thought would ever happen.

Vio cackled madly in the background the whole time, leaving his brothers concerned after the first ten minutes when the color’s mirth failed to fade.

#sorry I took so long!!!#vio is a member of #the warriors bullying squad #red is a member of #the warriors protection squad #lined universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu four #lu vio #lu red #lu green #lu blue #fluffics #linked universe fic requests #claybrownie7566 my beloved

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loyally-unfaithful · 4 years ago

Text

domestic life hc—tartaglia | childe

word count: 2.8k

pairing: tartaglia | childe/gn!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: idk man i got the childe brainrot,, fictional kgb member, i love you <3

who kisses the other on the nose and the one receiving the kiss blushes?

childe would do it a lot to you, especially at the beginning of your relationship.

not that he doesn’t like giving you nose kisses—he still loves kissing you in general <3

it’s just that when you both just started out, your reaction would be more potent. you’d be more flustered, stammering as you stared him with wide eyes.

if you asked him why, he’d give a smile that’s so painfully honeyed, while his eyes twinkled with mischief.

« you’re just too cute when you act all shy. » his voice teasing.

but here’s the secret.

he is not immune to nose boops.

do not hesitate to do it to him!! give him a taste of his own medicine!!!

he will not expect your boldness and he will be caught very off guard.

his own reaction would be just or even more incredible than yours, actually sksksksk.

tease him and reap the rewards man.

he’d snap up and blink at you, surprised. not quite believing that yes, actually, two can play at this game. he’d try to stutter out a witty comeback, but it holds no bite due to the furious blush covering his face.

either way, the both of you would laugh it out.

nowadays tho, you mostly just playfully roll your eyes at him and smile lazily, waiting until he gives you a kiss on the lips too.

who sits on their partner’s lap as they wrap their arms around their partners neck?

this man is your throne and you will sit on your rightful place.

real talk tho, childe makes a p decent chair considering. and he actually likes having you on his lap—it gives him free and unrestricted access to everything.

his arms would snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him. he’s not letting his prey you go anytime soon, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

as you wrap your arms around his neck, his hands may even wander elsewhere.

maybe you’ll simply hold each other close, tenderly closing the distance between the two of you, happy to have his affection, and him yours.

or maybe he’ll take it as an opportunity to kiss you, roughly, with desire, with want, until you’re breathless and your lips are bruised. this position, you think, as you feel his hand sneak under your clothes and trace your bare skin (which now feels unbearably hot), may also lead to something else. something more.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

who kisses the inside of their partner’s palm before reassuring them everything is going to be okay?

before setting off on his travels, childe would press a gentle kiss on the inside of your hand, reassuring. it’s a message, a reminder, a promise.

a promise that he’ll stay safe, that’ll he’ll return to you, unharmed.

he does it to soothe your worries and let you know that there was nothing to be worried about—he doesn’t want you to get all stressed on his behalf. as much as it pains him to part from you for too long, he needs to do what he must; but he’ll be thinking of you and your health every step of the way.

so like

to go on a bit of a tangent

we know that childe’s work, as a fatui—a harbinger no less—is of course very dangerous. and even though he’s more than capable of handling whatever his travels throw at him, you can’t help but be worried for him.

and i also feel like, if you didn’t know this [his true nature] from the get-go, he’d hide his actual line of work or obfuscate most of the details from you.

it’s because he doesn’t want to stress you with the more gruesome details.

if you were never aware of the darker side of his profession, then he’d rather not have your perception of him be tainted. in your eyes, he was just sweet, darling tartaglia—not the murderer or weapon of war that he really was—and he'd prefer to keep it that way.

he’s aware that fatuis get bad rap as is, and he doesn’t know how he’d feel if his status made you afraid of him, or even worse, detest him. you hating him was the last thing he wanted.

you generally respect his boundaries, and accept whatever vague descriptions he gives you about his current “commission” (location, length of time). you have your doubts about his work as a “merchant”, but you have faith that he’ll see his endeavours through, even if you yourself are unsure and concerned.

anyway i…

i’m getting horribly off topic 0A0

moving on—

who initiates the forehead touch™?

after a long day of gruelling work, he’d probably long for your touch and affection, without exactly having the energy left to really vocalise his feelings.

or at least, eloquently.

that’s why on quiet evenings, he’d seek you out and gently press his forehead against yours, pleased; you happy enough to follow his lead.

maybe childe lays his head on your lap while you play with his hair, untangling knots that have somehow formed in his unruly hair. at some point, he may reach out and pull you closer, close enough that your foreheads are touching. close enough to feel his warm breath fan your face.

you have to bend down a bit, and truthfully the position’s awkward, but your back’s protests are the last thing in your mind as you stare back into his pearlescent blue eyes.

despite his weariness, your comfort brings a smile to his face.

sometimes, he may even murmur something about how happy he was to be back home.

no words are exchanged, but there doesn’t need to be.

the love is there, and the both of you are content enough to simply revel in it.

where do they first say “I love you”?

things such as “i love you” and “i need you” are hard to utter for childe.

it’s a sign of weakness for him, and it’s a sign of weakness he does not wish to reveal nor acknowledge. if he says it, if he says that he loves you, he’s admitting a defect.

he has very little allies, and his enemies would not hesitate to take advantage of any leverage they can get. he doesn’t want you to be in danger because of him, he doesn’t want you to be used against him.

so admitting such vulnerability is very difficult for him.

however, though childe may be cold and calculated, tartaglia, ajax, is a man of feelings.

despite his consternation, he puts great importance over his loyalties and whom he offers his love to.

the first time he admits that he loves you, it is with great difficulty, as if it was a sin he shan’t utter.

he loves you, he thinks, but he cannot vocalise.

the first time he admits it, it was an accident. an impulse, the words whispered out against his consent, escaping before he was able to hold them in.

he carelessly lets the phrase out, and a part of him regrets while the other rejoices.

you make him weak when no other stands a chance to subjugate him so.

he hates it and he loves it oh so much.

it’s so so dangerous, and yet he is addicted.

he loves you.

who wraps their arms around their partner who’s cooking?

ok so like, it’s canon:

his siblings acknowledge him as the “the bestest big brother ever!” because he can cook and do housework. we stan a househusband.

anyway, this means that he’s at least a decent chef.

but because of his busy schedule as a harbinger, he rarely ever finds the time to cook, or to even be home. when he does get home, he would greet you before promptly passing tf out.

so he’d usually buy food when he remembers to eat. besides, his salary pretty much allows him to savour whatever liyue delicacy he wants to. the price, whatever it may have been, was negligible.

but honestly, truly, regardless of how luxurious and mouth-watering such expensive dishes were, nothing could beat home cooking. it hit different.

knowing this, you tended to prepare enough for two during dinner and save his portion on the dining table for when he gets home while you retreated to bed.

but on the off chance that he does get a day off, you best bet he’ll spend all that time within your presence. he is not letting you out of his sight and his arm’s reach.

he’ll ask you what you wanted to do. what you wanted to eat; he would treat you to anything, to repay your kindness, your thoughtfulness, as a way to say thank you, to say he’s glad to have you here and that he honestly truly cares for you.

you didn’t have to make him food but u did 🥺

if you said you just wanted something homemade, or if you wanted to taste what traditional snezhnayan food, he’d be more than happy to make you some of his favourite comfort food.

honestly you’re just shook that the man knows how to cook, and is quite good at it. an unexpected talent that makes you go “damn he’s the one, lads.”

as he works his magic, you’d help him around here and there, bringing this and chopping that. but for the most part, you’d just be his distraction and annoy him.

he will also annoy you back tbh.

playful digs and shade will be thrown… among other things being thrown…

yeah… cleaning up the kitchen is going to be a pain after this…

but he wouldn’t have it any other way—neither would you, for that matter.

you’re either gonna make something very delicious or nothing’s getting done, there’s no in between. you set the tone for this day dkfjd

if you want a chance in hell to actually get to eat something at the end, your best plan is to just wrap your arms around him and rest your chin on his shoulder. you’d pepper his skin with kisses while he tries his best to not be distracted from the task at hand (and maybe not slice his hand open with a knife).

oh well, what’s a little collateral damage here and there?

he’s here.

he’s yours, at least for now.

and you will take advantage of this.

who breaks out the first aid kit when the other gets a paper cut?

paternal cell.

we know childe do be a family man tho.

like let’s be honest, this man is a family man.

he loves his siblings and he loves his family. he has a very honest protective streak over his family and proclaimed loved ones. he hates seeing them hurt or unhappy so he will do anything to avoid such a situation.

if it does happen, he will do his damndest to remedy it.

so if he sees you getting hurt, even if it was simply just a paper cut, you best believe it’s protective ajax time and he’s pulling out the first aid kit.

bandaids, antiseptic, anti-inflammatory lotion, you name it. you tell him you don’t actually need half of these items and he shushes you before fussing over you.

he is making sure whatever ailment you have will heal up nicely and quickly.

he doesn’t want to see ur hurt :( and he rlly hopes u heal as fast as possible. you being hurt hurts him tenfold.

but not to worry, if he gets hurts? you’re also there very very quickly. you will rush to his side and you will fret over him, and his heart will fall all over for you once more, because you care about him and honestly it’s a nice feeling.

to be cared for.

maybe he doesn’t mind getting hurt if it means you would give him all of your attention and dote on him.

he just has to make sure you don’t find out he’s been getting injured intentionally because that’s instant banishment to the sofa for at least a few days.

who cuddles up to the other?

i like to imagine childe is a pretty affectionate dude, as in, he’s pretty touchy-feely. there’s also a little bit of possessiveness i think.

a lot of pda with this guy.

he wants to hold you close, he wants to be able to feel you near him.

so regardless of the time and place, he will make it known that you’re his, as he is yours.

it is no different as to when you’re in private. he’d snuggle up to you.

idk he just likes being near you? holding you, touching you, feeling you.

sometimes he can be a little restless in bed. if he doesn’t immediately conk out, he might build up some nighttime anxiety and paranoia. having you sleep soundly besides him makes it a little more bearable. it makes him feel safe and it certainly grounds him.

he finds that he sleeps a lot better and wakes up feeling a little more refreshed when you’re there with him.

of course, you were more than happy to reciprocate and curl up to him, his arms enveloping you.

though he might make a bit of a fuss and whinge, he lowkey highkey likes being in your arms. he won’t admit it, but being the little spoon is nice actually.

childe won’t ask for it or anything, he still wants to save face, but as you cuddle, the two of you would gradually shift until he has his head over your chest and he can hear the rhythmic beating of your heart. calming him.

who falls asleep on who? what is their reaction when the other falls asleep on them?

because of his job as a harbinger (not that you know that), he rarely ever comes home early or during normal human waking hours, so despite your determination you’re usually asleep by the time he slips inside your shared home.

that or by the time childe was comfortably sat next to you, more than happy to cuddle and listen to you ramble on about your day your excitement has already worn off, and in its place, drowsiness.

but it’s ok.

he would smile softly to himself, you asleep in his arms, small smile gracing your own lips, and gently lift up and carry you to your shared bedroom. slowly, carefully, he’d place himself near you without waking you up.

oh well, it can’t be helped. he’s happy enough to be around you, to have someone waiting for him.

but on the off chance you’re still awake while he was asleep, you would definitely take this chance to admire him, quietly watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

without that characteristic smug and self-satisfied grin, you’d wager he looked “innocent” you chuckle. but “innocent” and “childe” don’t belong in the same sentence.

stroking his hair, you’d notice how he looked so peaceful, carefree, even, when he’s asleep, and you long for the time when he’d look such a way when he was awake

you’d gently kiss his forehead, unable to bring yourself to break his peaceful repose to bring him to bed. instead, you wrapped a blanket you nabbed from childe’s bedroom around his shoulders and settle in his arms, happy to be near the man you love.

the next day, the both of you may wake up with terribly stiff necks rip

who likes to be held and who likes to hold?

i feel as if this is a shared sentiment. you both hold each one another an equal amount. ^u^

he’s used to being the older brother, the protector to his younger siblings, and he doesn’t oppose to having that role.

so in true childe fashion, he’d tease you for being all cuddly and insatiably hungry for his affection, but coddles you all the same (because he just loves the thought of, and being, held close).

you on the other hand love being adored by the object of your affection, paying no mind to his quips (ok maybe paying a little mind, as you huff and playfully hit him for being mean).

it’s ok though. he makes it up through his actions. and being paid attention to, cared for, adored and cherished by childe? you revel in it.

when you take him in your arms, he feels immensely happy and relieved.

to know that you care for him, that you’re looking out for him and that you love him—it brings forth a part of him he has long believed to have locked away and discarded.

a part of him that would’ve been considered weak, a part of him that wishes to be vulnerable, protected, and loved.

he figures that when it’s with you, it’s alright. he embraces it all the same because he trusts you.

you’re both smitten and you think to yourself that it’s alright his way.

because you have his heart, and he has yours.

LIKE MY WORK? CONSIDER BUYING ME A COFFEE // CHECKING OUT MY MASTERLIST | LINKS CAN BE FOUND ON MY DESC

#genshin impact #tartaglia childe genshin impact #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #falselywrites #i wrote half of this during new year's #aka #i was wasted lmaoo #but apparently #good things happen when im sloshed idk

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ikeromantic · 3 years ago

Text

My Favorite Place

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic, Approx. 2600 words. This scene takes place after the romantic epilogue and completely inside my head. Fluff!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Lunches with Friends

The letter from Sasuke arrived on the same day Mitsuhide planned to speak with Nobunaga - to request permission to take his little one on a journey.

The timing of the ninja’s reply could not be better. His letter said the passage 'home' would be open in less than a month’s time, ‘assuming calculations are correct.’

He also went on to say he was uncertain how regular these passages would be. And that he didn’t recommend travel unless all parties were committed to the destination.

An interesting wrinkle in Mitsuhide’s plans. He did not want to be caught, 500 years from all his plans, his allies, his work. It struck him then that this was what his little mouse had done. Perhaps not purposely, not when she left. But she’d chosen - for him - to abandon all she knew and held dear. How could he shrink at the possibility of doing the same for her?

These thoughts swirled through him as he mounted the steps of the tenshu. He did his best to bottle them up when he reached the door. In dealing with Nobunaga, he must have a clear mind.

Mitsuhide knocked lightly. The door opened.

His little mouse stood there, looking quite surprised to see him.

He smiled at her, hiding his own surprise. She’d gone out shopping today, or so Kyubei told him. Either his vassal was slipping or the chatelaine was improving her skill at misdirection. “Little one. I see you arrived ahead of me.”

Mitsuhide studied her expression. She looked pleased. Her cheeks were pink, eyes bright. His gaze passed her into the room beyond. Nobunaga sat, his newest tea set in use on the table. Ranmaru stood nearby, head down. The kitsune warlord wondered what transpired, but he knew he would get it from his little one later, if nothing else. She couldn’t dissemble well enough to avoid his direct questions.

“I . . . didn’t realize you were dropping by too! We could have had tea together.” She fiddled with the tie on her obi.

“Yes. We could have. I was under the impression you were in town. How silly of me.” Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow.

His little one had the grace to blush. “Ah, well, I am going to town. Now. To shop.” She looked down.

Mitsuhide chuckled. She was still so very innocent, even when she tried to be tricky. He cupped her cheek and gently raised her head to look at him. “Then allow me to kiss you goodbye.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Slowly, savoring the moment he felt her relax into his touch, responding with her mouth, her body.

She took a step closer to him, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Mmm,” Mitsuhide smiled as he pulled back from her. “I will see you at home later. You will be back before dinner?”

“Yes.” Her voice was a tad breathless.

“Good. I am sure we will have many things to discuss.” His golden eyes shone with curiosity that would not be denied.

His little mouse nodded. “See you later, then.” She scurried past and down the stairs.

“Was that for my benefit,” Nobunaga asked dryly.

“It was for mine.” Mitsuhide entered and bowed.

Nobunaga gestured him forward. “Sit. I expected to see you today.”

“I thought you might.” Mitsuhide sat and waited quietly while Ranmaru poured tea.

“Do you have something to report?”

Mitsuhide sipped at the hot tea, considering what he did have to say, beyond requesting time absent from Azuchi. His gaze drifted to Ranmaru and then back to Nobunaga.

His lord’s eyes narrowed. “Ranmaru, you are needed in the kitchen.”

“My lord?” The page looked up, surprised.

“The kitchen,” Nobunaga repeated.

Ranmaru gave a quick bow and hurried out. He cast one look at Mitsuhide over his shoulder, a nervous glance, and then he was gone.

“Thank you my lord. I do prefer privacy for our discussions.”

Nobunaga frowned slightly. He said nothing, only waited for his warlord to continue.

Mitsuhide picked out a few gems to share. “The Aki province is not as peaceful as Hideyoshi has been led to believe. The coalition he is working on a treaty with will fall apart. They are not honest in their dealings.”

Nobunaga’s brow furrowed. “How do you know this?”

“A bit of information here, some there. I put it together. The Mouri clan will continue to defy you, I am sure. And there is more. The Ikko Ikki still have much influence among the common folk. They continue to recruit and train. It is only a matter of time before they make another attempt on your life.”

“That isn’t news so much as a certainty.” Nobunaga gestured imperiously. “They will yield or fall. I do not fear Kennyo.”

“It isn’t the demon abbot I worry about either. It is the forces that seek to use him. He was once friends with The Tiger of the Kai, and some of his followers have been seen in Sakai, speaking with foreign merchants.” Mitushide shrugged. “I cannot say what it will mean.”

Nobunaga nodded. He hadn’t forgotten their enemies in Echigo.

“I have placed some people in each camp, watching. If an opportunity arises -”

“I trust my left hand to deal with the knives at my back.” He smiled for the first time since Mitsuhide’s arrival. “But I think you came to do more than report?”

Mitsuhide bowed his head. “Perceptive as always, my lord.” He cleared his throat. “I need to be absent for a time. With my fiancee. I wish to show her Sakamoto, and to take her to the Mino province. Perhaps . . . further.”

Nobunaga was quiet for a moment. “How long do you intend to be gone?”

“A month? Likely more.”

“You would take my good luck charm and leave me one-handed, knowing my enemies surround us?” Nobunaga didn’t sound angry, only curious. He knew Mitsuhide always had some sort of plan in mind.

“Think more than your left hand will be out of sight, rather than gone.” Mitsuhide looked up.

Nobunaga regarded him with those impenetrable carnelian eyes. He was one man the kitsune warlord could never fully read. “And my good luck charm?”

“Will be in good hands.”

“And if I say no?” One brow rose in question.

Mitsuhide smiled, sharp and thin. “Have I ever betrayed you?”

Nobunaga laughed, a full throated, head thrown back guffaw. It faded to a chuckle and then just a smile. “You may go. I expect you to bring my luck charm back unharmed and in good spirits.”

He bowed again. “I will endeavor not to disappoint you.”

“You will not.” Nobunaga’s eyes were hard, though he still smiled.

Mitsuhide spent the rest of his day wondering what his lord and his lover had talked about. He could think of a dozen things. A sewing commission? Her work as chatelaine? Funds? Was there something she needed - and had she gone to Nobunaga for it? Not knowing bothered him more than he expected.

Worse, Kyubei was nowhere to be found. A fact that made him certain his vassal knew what she was up to. Of all the things Mitsuhide had expected to share with his lover, his vassal’s loyalty had not been his first thought. Not that he minded . . . much. But Kyubei’s first oath was to him.

He nearly went to Azuchi to look for the two of them. But patience was always the wiser course. Instead, he busied himself at the manor, sending missives to his castles and telling them to expect his arrival. Then, preparing his manor servants for an extended absence. They knew what to do and needed very little instruction.

Despite his attempts at distraction, he was on pins until he heard Kyubei and his little mouse return. They were laughing as they walked into the hall, his vassal’s low voice an indistinct rumble under her high, sweet chatter.

“We were lucky we -” She stopped speaking as Kyubei interrupted.

“We were! I did tell you, my lady. I expect we will need to -” His vassal stopped himself, then continued on a whole different topic. “Ready yourself for dinner with my lord. I will check on the menu. Do you need a maid?”

“No, Kyubei. I think I can handle it. Thank you, again.”

“It is the least I owe you.”

Her laugh, sweet and gentle. “You owe me nothing. But I’d like to think we’re friends now.”

“We are, my lady.”

Mitsuhide looked out in time to see Kyubei bow and leave for the kitchens. Clearly he suspected they were being listened to. What lucky thing had happened? And what did he expect they would need to do? His little one was turning into quite the conspirator. She would need to deliver herself of these secrets. Her lover had some ideas on how best to get them out of her.

He waited until she was in her rooms to approach, sliding her door open silently. She was dressed in just her underclothes, a cool, wet cloth pressed to her face. She didn’t hear him as he came in, and shut the door behind him.

Mitsuhide took advantage of the moment to see if she’d brought any packages, but there was nothing new in her room. He came up behind her and settled his arms around her waist.

His little one shrieked and leapt up. She put her foot back and tried to pull him forward, but that move only worked if he was moving that direction when she did it. Like this, it was ineffective, but he was proud of her for trying. She turned, ready to place an elbow in his ribs, and then she saw who had her.

“Mitsuhide! You - you bastard!” Her cheeks were bright pink, all the way to the tips of her ears.

“Are you angry with me, little mouse?”

“No. Yes! You scared me!”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “And are you still afraid?”

She shook her head. “Just mad at you.”

“Oh? Then I will have to make it up to you.” He bent down to kiss the nape of her neck. “I cannot bear for you to be angry with me.” He kissed along her neck, enjoying the little sigh of pleasure that escaped her lips.

“It’s going to t-take more than a few kisses. Tease.”

“I have much more than that in mind.” Mitsuhide sat and pulled her into his lap. He hadn’t realized how much he missed holding her until she was in his arms. His unsettled feelings faded as she nestled against his chest.

“I missed you today.”

“And I, you.” He kissed her and it made the one they’d shared at the tenshu seem a pale shadow for the warmth and passion in it. Mitsuhide stroked her back and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

They parted, reluctant and breathless. Neither said anything for awhile. And then they both spoke at once.

“What were you -”

“Why were you -”

She laughed. “You first.”

“Alright.” He shifted her to face away from him and began unpinning her hair. Mitsuhide told himself it was because she was less guarded when enjoying herself, but the truth was, he just liked the feel of it. He waited until he’d released her hair from it’s bun, and began gently combing his fingers through it, before he spoke again. “I wondered what you went to Nobunaga for. Did he summon you?”

“Mmmm, no . . . I just had to talk to him.” She sighed happily at his gentle ministrations.

“Oh? Is your lover allowed to know what you talked about?”

She gave a breathy laugh. “Are you jealous, Mitsuhide?”

“No.” He scowled. “A little.” It was more than jealousy, and less. A layered emotion. He didn’t fear that she loved someone else. No one could take her from him. It wasn’t that. It was . . . Nobunaga’s claim on her as his charm. His casual ownership of her as an Oda princess. Coming from his lord, he could accept it but if she saw herself that way . . .

“I needed to talk to him about us. I didn’t want bad feelings. He was my boss after all. Still is, I guess.” She laughed again.

“About us, little one?” His heart thudded suddenly in his chest.

She bent her head forward and took a breath. “I hope you don’t think it’s silly. I just wanted him to know I love you. And that I needed to be here with you.”

Mitsuhide froze. Of all the things he thought they might have discussed, he hadn’t thought she went to Nobunaga to have a heart-to-heart.

“Of course, I let him know I still care about him, and the others. I mean, I haven’t abandoned them - I’m still around.” She realized he wasn’t moving. “Is that alright? Mitsuhide? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” She looked at him, worried.

He pulled her into a hug, burying his face against her shoulder. “You have no idea . . .”

She kissed him on the side of his head. “I don’t understand you sometimes. Most times, actually. I thought you might be angry.”

“I am never angry with you.” He sat up and resumed finger-combing her hair. Mitsuhide was intensely glad no one could see how easily she disarmed him. Took apart his plans and defenses and left him bare by just being so adorable.

“Is that all you wanted to know?”

“About Nobunaga, yes. How did your shopping go? Was Kyubei a help?” Mitushide was relaxed now, confident her answer would be as innocent as the first.

“Shopping went fine. Kyubei was great. He is really very resourceful.”

“Oh?” Mitsuhide began to braid her hair. His dextrous fingers were good at three and five strand plaits. It was a little like tying a bond, or ropework. But infinitely more pleasant.

“Yes. We - we found what we needed to.”

“And what was that?”

She shrugged. “Just, stuff. Nothing to be interested in.”

Mitsuhide knew deflection when he heard it. “But I am, little mouse. Did you find some new fabric? A tool for your sewing kit?”

“No . . . don’t worry about it.”

“Is it a secret?” Mitsuhide’s eyes shone. “You know how much I like teasing secrets from you.”

She wriggled in his lap, as if considering escape.

He tied off the braid with a ribbon and leaned down to nip her neck. With his lips against her ear, he whispered, “Is that what you want me to do?”

“N-no! This is - Mitsuhide - that’s not fair!” She nestled back against him as if defeated. “I’ll tell you if you really want to know. But I’d rather keep it a surprise.”

Ah, what a conundrum. He wanted to know everything about her, especially the things she wanted to hide. But he knew how hard she tried to surprise him. His gorgeous haori was the latest example, though he’d figured it out only a week into its construction.

Mitsuhide stroked his hands down her arms, soothing. “I will be patient then. Until your surprise is ready. But . . . we’ll be traveling soon. Will that be a problem?”

She made a happy squeal. “Are we going to visit your home? On a vacation?”

“Yes, love. I spoke with Nobunaga about it and he has granted us both leave.”

“I can’t wait. I want to see all your favorite places. Hear all the stories about you as a boy! Will you introduce me to your family?” She sounded so excited. It pleased Mitsuhide to no end to hear joy in her voice.

“My family has passed, but I will be glad to introduce you to those that remain. I will show you everything you might find beautiful, but you should know little one, my favorite place is wherever you are.”

Next: My Home Is Your Home

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff

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imalwaystiredzzz · 3 years ago

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C2: Sisyphus happy. Yan Zhongli x Reader

Warning: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationships

< Sisyphus happy. chapters >

“Perhaps you would fear if you saw me, and love is all I ask. There is a necessity that keeps me hidden now. Only believe.” - Cupid and Psyche ══════════════════════════════════

You have a dream; heavy and looming as you carry a boulder on your fragile back. It dares to crush you under its weight, while you trudge up a steep path towards the peak of this mountain. The sun glares with its heat like a guard set to watch your endless labor, sweat trickles down like rain on your skin as you pray for water.

The relief comes in the form of waking from this endless dream.

Breath. Breath. Breath. You breath as if your lungs were crushed and you had drowned in earth, wondering why the familiar pain of doing so was gone. “Slowly,” smooth like velvet and deep that it reverberates to your being, your dear husband hushes next to you observing for any hint - even a twitch - that you might need help.

“I felt like I had a really long dream,” you say, sitting up from the warm sheets of your shared bed.

“Care to tell me what it is about?” He is the epitome of patience practiced and perfected, waiting for your reply; though try as you might to remember what it was, the dream had long slipped from your mind like sand held between cupped hands, flowing and flowing until nothing is left.

“Have I been asleep long?” Voice groggy and eyes a bit blinded by the light, small hands felt the sheets on his side, the warmth and ghost of his form long gone, your dutiful husband, always awake and dressed before you even rouse from slumber.

Zhongli leans toward you, his gloved fingers graze your cheeks with tenderness only to tuck a strand behind your ear and it is warm as the morning sun that rises on your window. “It’s alright, I know that you need rest after our move.”

You blush, heart soaring like a pure maiden in love with her suitor even though it is none other than your husband who gives you his full attention. It’s supposed to be endearing. It is endearing. Yet there is an ache at the back of your head, that something is amiss.

His fingers, barely touching your skin, made you think of claws, long and sharp, shining with polish. You brush it aside, under the bed long forgotten in the dark, while you would begin your routine.

You could say that a day does not begin when you wake, rather it is when you make his tea.

He once told you that brewing is an art no less than painting or writing, it is not a matter of simply sprinkling leaves on a clay pot. It is a meditation and a ceremony practiced to bring forth a harmony of earth and water.

You take his words to heart. You take almost all his words to heart and memorize them the way he recites poems to you before bed. You command air to bring forth an aroma that allures the butterflies and with practiced elegance, you hold the Yixing teapot to pour him his cup while Zhongli is nothing but a spectator to this show.

There are no words exchanged before he sips. It is a little game between you and him, a show of trust you would like to think. Even the heavens could not imagine Zhongli take abhorrent food, not even for his wife.

He is nothing but an expert, listing the leaves you secretly used and the flavor in full detail like a practiced line from a play. You’d wager that had he been blessed to borne out of better parents, had he been blessed with a better standing rather than a son of a merchant who had a herbalist like you for a wife, he would have stood as the finest in a world of history and art with those deft amber eyes that miss nothing.

Not even the way you look as he leaves through that door with a kiss.

A kiss of parting as you wave him goodbye, the wind whispering that this is not your simple husband, who goes down the mountain to sell herbs and trade merchandise in the city. He is your foreign husband, who disappears from your presence and hides a secret deeper than the mines the humans could hope to till.

But who is to listen to the wind? Zhongli tells you that it is nothing but your active imagination and you are nothing but (Y/n) (l/n), a herbalist, who belongs to the soil.

This thought repeats in your head like a broken record and rings in your ear.

It is spring now, you remember looking up and thanking the clouds and the lush leaves of the tree that hide the harsh glare of the afternoon sun. The grass was evergreen and the wind smell of the oncoming summer heat, fragrant with flowers that bloom in the wild.

In spring, he tells you that a gardener is happy for the harvest is abundant and the lands teems with life. In spring, you should be happy.

The plants are alive and they grow easy, they are not shriveled by the summer heat nor do they hide under the ground because of the winter. The flowers and herbs bloom, almost too perfectly as if the little pots were visited by the dendro archcon themselves in your sleep.

You are (Y/n) (l/n). In spring, you should be alive.

Yet cannot help but notice the absence of the worms nor ants that you once complained about. Once upon a time, you would be maneuvering them all throughout the day away from the lush green leaves and bountiful earth. And sometimes your imagination would play tricks and whispers of their avoidance.

“What cruel little pest,” you tell the soil while planting new seeds until the sun goes down and hides from the skies, when you light the lamps in the house, but most especially by the door, red and glowing like a star against the vast darkness of this lonely mountain.

Hoping, praying that this simple light will lead him back, if he might ever be lost in the shadows in the road.

Even before he walks through the door, your ears are listening to the whispers of the air that carries his footsteps as it taps the ground so when he opens the door, you are there with a warm welcoming smile and a kiss to his cheeks, heart calm as you know he is safe and he is here. He is home.

You should laugh, really. Your husband who has mapped this mountain like the back of his hand would never be lost but the anxiousness of it never fades. A perpetual worrier, he would call you with eyes lost, staring at yet never really seeing. You know that he has his moments, he doesn’t mean to show, it is fleeting as it comes and no more than a blink of an eye hence you blink and pretend that you don’t see and lead him by the hand to the table neatly set and filled with warm food.

You dine as he talks about the people he has met and worked with in the city, how the land has begun to thrive and the mora flowing. He tells you of a harbor, where boats are ever growing in size as the days go by and the merchants travelling to do business within it. As far as you can remember, there was never dinner where Zhongli does not talk endlessly about the city - always proud yet humble like a poem, you would think that he talks about it like a child of his own.

“I wonder when will I see the lights of the city from here.” You don’t know what compelled you to say this, maybe it was the stories that he never ceased to tell, maybe it was the lantern that still hung lit outside and darkness that encloses it like a sky with a single star. He pauses, struck and still as a statue, he looks at you in a way that you have never seen before.

This smile is is not warm as the morning sun when you wake; it is not tight and constricted when he leaves; nor is it practiced the way it would fall so easily on his visage like a mask; rather this smile dims the glow in his amber eyes and wrinkles the skin akin to sadness and guilt held back.

He reaches for your hand on the other side of the table and kisses it, tenderly, gently as if you are glass that would break with a tap and this is his silent promise that you feel would never come to fruition, “Maybe one day when you are feeling better.”

The routine ends when your dear husband leads you to bed, the fire closed and you are both in the dark. Tonight he kisses you with unhinged passion, holding unto your small form against him like you were about to disappear into thin air and he is a stone cage.

“Is it so selfish of me to keep you by my side and never want to let go?”

He asked barely a whisper above your skin, like a prayer to a god that never answers while the only thing on your heart was pity for your dear husband’s deep sadness, who was an embodiment tragedy that could make you cry.

Had you been born with a stronger body, maybe then you could promise him tomorrow and the rest of your days yet you are nothing but ephemeral so you don’t speak; simply hold his arms, firm and hard under your touch briefly wondering why you thought of scales, mighty and solid as the unblemished core lapis from deep underneath. Under your fingertips he is foreign yet familiar, in every wrong and right way possible. “You have enraptured me, body and soul. I will always love you, even after I have long passed”

“Is that what it means to love”

“That is what it means to be human.”

You fall asleep, long before he does. He holds your hand, tightly.

Step by step by step. An endless walk as you contemplate: why? What sin so great that you have committed for this to be an equal torture. And yet even as millennium of wondering have passed you don’t know, rather you’ve forgotten, memories and thoughts lost in the pain that seeps into the bone, desert in your throat and the eyes that cannot see the peak of this mountain you climb.

#TiredZ Sisyphus happy #yandere zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin imagines #geshin impact #yandere zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you

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asweetprologue · 3 years ago

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me lámh le do lámh - Part VI

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Geralt tried to make an effort after that.

It was a fine line to walk, of course. He wanted to be more vocal—more honest—about how much he cared about Jaskier. His deception about the nature of the ritual made him itch to tell Jaskier other things, to bury the lie under a heap of truths. The idea that Jaskier might not know how highly Geralt regarded him, might think that Geralt didn’t care, was unacceptable. No matter how uncomfortable it made him, he began to try and show Jaskier, in small ways, that he wanted him.

He just couldn’t show too much, couldn’t let himself speak the deeper truths of his heart. A fine line indeed.

Initially, Jaskier acted almost suspicious. They stayed by the ruins for three days while his head recovered. His ankle took longer, and Geralt could admit that he was coddling a bit. He forced Jaskier to sit as he made camp and cooked dinner, took away his notebook when Jaskier had been squinting at it for too long in the dusk light. He needed to rest, Geralt insisted, and he couldn’t do that if he was constantly at work. Jaskier was resistant, as always. Geralt had tended him a few times when he’d come down with a particularly nasty cold, and once when he’d been honest to gods poisoned by a rival bard. Jaskier was always petulant, irritated at being cooped up even when he couldn’t keep down anything thicker than broth. He was no better now, fighting Geralt every step of the way to recovery.

Geralt tried to retaliate with affection. He sat closer to Jaskier in the evenings, telling him the stories he craved, watching afterwards as he mouthed words up at the stars to fit new ballads. He told Jaskier that he enjoyed the tune he was humming, and Jaskier had blinked at him like he’d grown two heads. When they finally decided it was time to move on, Geralt offered to let him ride Roach, and Jaskier stood gaping at him.

“Excuse me?” he spluttered. “Did you just say you want me to ride Roach?”

Geralt sighed through his nose. “Was that not clear enough?”

Jaskier leaned against Roach, one arm out to steady himself on the saddle. His ankle still wouldn’t hold his weight for more than a few moments. “I should throw something silver at you,” Jaskier said, “or douse you in holy water. You’ve been replaced by a spirit.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s tone was a warning.

“A much nicer spirit,” Jaskier said as he began pulling himself up into the saddle. “A very kind spirit who lets his poor injured friend ride his very sweet, docile horse. Nice Roachy. Please don’t throw me off.”

“She won’t buck you,” Geralt snorted, hiding a grin. He took the reins and began leading them back to the main path, heading southwest. Their next destination, according to Triss, would be just outside of the Brokilon Forest. The last of the moonflax supposedly grew in that area, and hopefully the locals would know how to point them in the right direction. They found their way back to the main road easily enough, and it was several long moments before Jaskier spoke.

“I’m really fine, you know,” he said, and when Geralt glanced up at him, he found Jaskier staring resolutely down the road, a small pinch to his brow. “So you can stop being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Geralt said automatically.

“You are,” Jaskier insisted, looking down at him. His eyes squinted at Geralt as if he were trying to see straight through his skull. “And I know it’s coming from some misplaced guilt that you’re carrying around, thinking that it’s all your fault that I got hurt, as if somehow your witcher powers could stop a floor from collapsing—”

“I’m not—” Geralt started, and then bit back the words. He was guilty, and of course Jaskier could sense it on him. It just wasn’t entirely for the reason Jaskier thought. Instead he said, “It’s not about that.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrows in an expression that meant he thought he was about to win an argument. “Then why are you being so nice to me?” he asked, jerking his chin forward cockily. Like he was already sure of the answer.

The question gave Geralt pause, literally. He stopped for a moment on the road, blinking up at Jaskier. His hair was backlit by the noonday sun, his eyes as brilliantly blue as the cloudless sky above them. It was a shame, Geralt thought, that he’d never before seen Jaskier from this angle. He’d have to let him ride Roach more often. “I realized I wasn’t really, before,” he finally said, haltingly. “I mean—I want to be. Nice. Nicer.” He grimaced.

Jaskier’s expression changed to one of blatant shock, and then smoothed into something softer that Geralt couldn’t identify. It made his breath quicken in his chest, catching in his throat. “You’re a good man, Geralt. You don’t have to perform social niceties for that to be true.”

“I meant to you,” Geralt clarified, shifting uncomfortably. They were stopped in the middle of the road now, and he knew he should probably keep going, because if he kept looking up at Jaskier during this conversation it was going to feel a lot more profound than it needed to be. “I don’t really care about what every farmer or lord I deal with thinks of me.”

“But you care what I think,” Jaskier replied, face once again open with surprise. He’d been making that expression a lot lately, Geralt had noticed. Like Geralt kept doing things that made him reconsider his entire worldview.

“Yes,” Geralt said simply, because it was true. “You’re my friend. I should be nice to you.” He quirked a smile, hoping to break the tension. “That’s what Ciri tells me, at least.”

It had the desired effect; Jaskier tossed his head back and laughed, and Geralt was forced to reconcile himself with the long line of his throat. His mouth went dry at the sight, and he forced himself not to move—not to reach out, not to pull Jaskier off Roach’s back, not to press his lips to the pale skin that peeked out of Jaskier’s loose collar. He stayed stock still, until Jaskier looked down at him with a grin. “Ciri is a smart young woman,” Jaskier said, “and I can’t find fault with her argument. Though truly, don’t make any great effort on my account. I know how difficult I can be to tolerate.”

Jaskier’s mirth made something relax in him, and Geralt found himself smiling back. He unstuck his limbs from the ground and turned to continue on, giving Roach’s reins a gentle tug. Jaskier leaned forward at the sudden movement, and Geralt allowed himself one touch, reaching out to put a hand on Jaskier’s thigh, stabilizing him. Wryly, he said, “You really aren’t.”

Jaskier looked down toward him, and leaning forward as he was, they were suddenly much closer than before, and Jaskier’s face was softened again in surprise and— something else. Geralt felt sure, for one crystalline moment, that Jaskier was going to lean down the last few inches to press their lips together. He held his breath in anticipation, and for a moment Jaskier wavered. And then Roach huffed and canted forward a step, and Geralt’s hand jerked where it was clenched white-knuckled around the reins. He leaned back and away, taking his hand off of Jaskier’s thigh, and felt cold despite the warmth of the day. Jaskier straightened in his seat, and when Geralt looked up at him again his face was blank, squinting up at the sky.

Geralt’s hand burned as he started forward again, leading them down the road towards their destination. He had been right, he thought, to avoid touching Jaskier. Every instance was like flying closer to the sun. He couldn’t survive it if he kept pushing his limits.

They stopped for the night at an inn. It was unusually vacant; they were far enough south now that the last vestiges of winter had faded behind them, and the roads had been plenty busy. On their way into town they’d passed a large band of travelers—merchants, a cobbler, several families—headed in the other direction, so it was likely they drove off any others passing through the area. The innkeep looked tired, a woman who couldn’t be older than Jaskier but had a full head of gray hair. She gave Geralt a shrewd look when they entered, but was quickly swept up in Jaskier’s charm, especially when he exaggerated the limp a bit.

“Afraid there’ll be no one to play for this evening, my boy,” she said, the thick accent of southern Velen making her words sound like chewed barley. “You’ll have to pay for a full night.”

The rate she gave was fair, not marked up for the presence of a witcher as far as Geralt could tell. They were well off on coin after a drowner contract he’d taken before the ruins. They were always particularly active in the spring, having grown hungry under the ice and snow all winter. Geralt had cleared out at least thirty of them from a lake and its nearby stream, gaining no more than a few shallow claw marks but a hefty bag of coin for his efforts. “The rooms are a touch small,” the innkeep said. “You’ll want two; no chance of sharing with this one’s shoulders as they are.” She nodded to Geralt, her gaze passing over his broad chest. He huffed, annoyed.

Jaskier hummed himself, a slight frown passing over his features. “Are you quite sure? We’re accustomed to sharing, and it would save us some coin—”

“We have coin,” Geralt said, slapping the money down on the counter. Jaskier made a noise of protest that Geralt silenced with a look. “I don’t want to risk fucking up your leg by lying on top of it. Two rooms, one night.” It was fine. They were in no danger of running low on funds. There was no need for them to spend a night in discomfort. “It’s this or the road, bard.”

At that Jaskier pouted and dropped the issue.

That night they ate dinner together in the main room of the inn. The food was good, hearty liver sausages with a thin vegetable broth to wash it down, and a loaf of dark oat bread. The ale wasn’t half bad either, even watered down as it was. Once they finished eating, Geralt allowed Jaskier to goad him into a few rounds of Gwent. He never understood why Jaskier wanted to play—Geralt always won handily. Five extra decades of experience and a long tradition of playing for his meals made him the better player by far, and his deck was tournament worthy. Yet Jaskier needled him at least weekly until Geralt gave in and pulled out the cards. Maybe he thought eventually Geralt would let him win. He would continue to be disappointed.

It was, admittedly, hard to concentrate on the game when the light of the fire backlit Jaskier just so, like the halo of some old god. His long fingers worried at the edges of the cards, a terrible tell he couldn’t seem to shake. He always played with the corners of particularly good ones in his hand. Geralt could almost use it to predict the end game totals by this point. Jaskier’s fingernails were a patchwork of color; he’d had them painted sometime while he was staying in Oxenfurt, and the dark burgundy was almost completely chipped away after a few weeks on the road. It was a miracle that the color clung on at all, or that Jaskier had allowed them to remain partially decorated when they lost their perfect shine. Maybe there was a poetic appeal. Something about one’s masks being slowly chipped away, or some such nonsense.

He won the first game. Jaskier begged for best three out of five, and Geralt won the next two games as well. Jaskier finally relented, and the smile on his face wasn’t that of a good natured loser accepting his lot. He said, “I suppose you win again, my dear,” and his eyes were warm as he looked at Geralt.

It was rare that Jaskier could be described as soft in any way. He was boisterous, and excitable, and generally prone to fits of dramatic romanticism or unbridled rage in equal measure. Sometimes he was melancholy, and other times—sometimes when he was very drunk, he was giddy, and he would rope Geralt into unwise activities like they were school children. He was almost never quiet. Even in moments of calm he would be busy moving, strumming his lute or scratching in the margins of his notebooks or singing a new line or two at the stars. But now he was sitting and looking at Geralt over a pile of cards, and he was still. Just looking, chin resting on one hand, as if Geralt’s face held the key to an interesting riddle he was trying hard to solve.

Geralt cleared his throat, feeling unmoored. “Time for bed. Early start tomorrow.”

Like that the spell was broken, and Jaskier rolled his eyes with a groan. “And for what reason? Roach, for one, would deserve the rest. We mustn’t always get up at the first light of dawn, witcher.”

“But we will,” Geralt said, feeling his lips twitch. He turned towards the stairs to hide it, hearing Jaskier’s uneven gait follow after him. He resisted the urge to turn around and offer his arm to assist, knowing that it would only annoy Jaskier and put them in close proximity. Something he was trying his best to avoid.

They parted ways at the doors to their rooms, set next to each other in the hall. They were almost identical, and Geralt wondered if at some point a wall had been constructed down the middle of a room to provide the inn with more to rent out. The result was two cramped spaces, with only enough room for a small bed pushed up against the wall and a trunk across from it. Geralt had deposited his things in the corner before heading back down in search of dinner earlier, and he now set about making sure that his equipment was taken care of. There was a spot on his armor that needed to be reinforced after a drowner had scratched it. The leather was still supple from regular oiling, but he would need a professional to look it over soon. Even so, he was capable of making his own minor repairs until then, backing the fragile spot with spare pieces that he kept for this purpose. The work was grounding in its familiarity. Once he was done he set about sharpening his swords as well. The silver would soon need a new coating; Geralt could see a few places where the darker iron core shone through, where he’d blocked the swipe of a griffin’s talon a month back. A problem for another town.

He could hear Jaskier in the room on the other side of the wall. It was thin enough that there may as well have been no barrier between them whatsoever. He could hear the bard humming to himself, the rustle of cloth as he tossed aside his clothes for the day. No, not tossed—Jaskier was meticulous about his clothes unless roaring drunk or in a haze of academic preoccupation, which tonight he was not. Geralt could almost picture the other man as he carefully folded his doublet over the back of a chair, set his undershirt to hang near the window where it would dry out after the sweat of the day. His pants would be pressed into a neat square and put into his bag alongside his other colorful finery. His hose would be draped near the doublet, his boots neatly set by the door. Dressed down to his braies, he would slip into bed.

The creek of the mattress came from closer to Geralt’s room than he might have expected. The beds must be pushed up against the same wall, mirroring each other.

Geralt slowly and methodically finished his tasks, sliding his swords back into their scabbards and putting them under the bed, within easy reach. With a flick of his wrist, he extinguished the lone candle in the room. He could hear from the noises filtering in from outside that Jaskier’s room had been the one graced with a window. No matter; he could see fine without the added help of the moonlight.

By the time he slipped into the small bed, Jaskier’s breaths had evened out in sleep. His heartbeat was loud through the wall, louder than it usually seemed in their small campsite, with the sounds of the forest drowning it out. The bed really was too small for two, Geralt thought, rolling over to stare at the wall. If they’d shared, they would have had to sleep practically on top of each other. Geralt would have had to wrap himself around Jaskier just to keep him in place. Put his hand over the bard’s heart and felt the rhythm drum out under his fingertips.

He turned around, pressing his back to the wall, listening to the sound of the bard on the other side. His chest ached. The bed felt huge and empty, big enough to swallow him whole. A ridiculous fucking notion. The thing was tiny.

Geralt wondered, really and truly, when it had gotten this bad. When he’d let it get this bad. He pressed his back more firmly against the wall, and fell asleep to the symphony of his own heartbeat matching Jaskier’s one to four.

#geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcher #the witcher #fic #fanfic #writing #my work #multichapter #me lamh #big bang #geraskierbigbang

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