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clonedchaos · 4 months ago

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Ripple Effect

Orchids and Oranges: A Yasammy Week Special

Yippee! It's Yasammy Week, brought to you by @yasammyweek! Pardon the late kickoff, had to attend my sister's bridal shower today as well as writing this 2,000 word one shot in one day. I know most ppl here are doing art, but I can't draw, so fanfic it is! Enjoy! <3

Day 1: Hurt/Comfort

Rating: G/PG

Summary: Yaz thought she had left the dinosaurs behind. She thought it was time for her to finally heal… until she came face to face with one on the mainland.

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Yaz wrapped her arms tighter around Sammy’s waist as she gradually got used to the fluid movement of the stallion below them. The saddle wasn’t the most comfortable or practical of inventions, but Sammy had insisted it was far better than riding bare back.

Yaz let her gaze wander as a smile crossed her lips and her heart gave a little flutter. The maple trees surrounding them were colored in vibrant shades of orange, red, and brown. Despite fall coming to a close, Texas was still as humid as ever. It was the polar opposite of her home upstate— the moment it hit October, the temperature would plummet.

Yaz had gotten used to the frigid air over the years thanks to her daily morning runs. She would be quite out of her element down here if it weren’t for the months she spent stuck on a tropical island. She’d take the Texas heat over Nublar’s every single time.

And, of course, she loved Texas because of Sammy. Her parents had been the textbook definition of southern hospitality ever since Yaz came down to spend the week with them. Sammy had been a hurricane of energy and enthusiasm ever since her arrival. She talked a mile a minute at any possible opportunity and paraded Yaz around to see every nook and cranny of their land. It had been fun; she knew Sammy had been waiting a long time to introduce her officially to her family-- cattle included.

A pleasant breeze brushed past them, Sammy’s hair tickling Yaz’s nose. Yaz sneezed, the sheer power of the act nearly sending her reeling backwards.

”Bless you!” Sammy immediately chimed in, looking over her shoulder. Her hands held the reins in a loose grip as the stallion came to a stop. His ears and tail twitched. Yaz’s behavior had irked him.

“Sorry about that, bud,” She apologized, patting the horse on the flank. A whistle and nudge from Sammy ushered the stallion forward again.

The cowgirl kept her eyes on her girlfriend. Yaz felt that wasn’t the appropriate course of action given she was the one guiding the horse down the path. It seemed almost as dangerous as taking your eyes off the road while driving.

”The trees are mighty beautiful, aren’t they?” Sammy cooed with a grin. She reached forward and plucked a leaf out of Yaz’s hair. How long had that been in there?

”It is beautiful, Sammy,” Yaz admitted. Truly, the scenery was gorgeous. The Gutierrez’s land was pure nature’s bliss, all 700 acres of it. She liked to call it “The Eight Wonder of the World.”

Sammy glanced up towards the sky, its colors glowing with muted hues of pink, blue, and purple. “It’s gettin’ late. Perhaps we should head back to the stable.” Her gaze darted to and fro before she leaned forward and whispered, “Ol Kota’s eyesight isn’t as great as it once was.”

Kota nickered in response. Yaz snorted. “I think he heard you.”

"Oh, that wasn't an insult, boy!" Sammy quickly corrected sheepishly, getting a chuckle out of Yaz. Sammy's baby talk toward her critters wasn't at all meant to be taken seriously, but Yaz couldn't help but think it was adorable.

“I suppose you’re right. Hey, think I could beat Kota in a race?” Yaz asked with a clear undertone of a challenge. If he galloped at full speed, she knew he would be able to overtake her effortlessly. But at his old age, she might just have a chance if he were to trot.

Sammy’s eyes shone as she turned her attention back onto Yaz. “Oh, that’s a gre—“

Kota saw the Triceratops first. The elder stallion reared up onto his back legs. Yaz lost her grip on Sammy and hit the ground hard. The breath drew out of her lungs, leaving her momentarily stunned at the blunt impact. Surely that was going to leave a sizable bruise on her tailbone.

”Woah, boy! Easy… Easy!” Sammy yelped as she tightened the reins and fought for control. Yaz instinctively rolled to the side to avoid getting trampled on by hooves, just barely scraping by with nothing more than a dust cloud in her face.

With her chest heaving in gulps of air, Yaz finally lifted her gaze toward the instigator. A bulky Triceratops stood before them in the path, its head lowered and grazing on the sparse patches of grass that sprung up from the dirt trail. At the stallion’s cry of fear, the herbivore lifted its head. Its horns glinted off the dying sunlight’s rays, the tips sharpened points that could skewer her should the animal desire.

Yaz didn’t know why, but she screamed. She screamed a blood curdling cry that sent the nearby birds scattering. Her hands tore up clumps of dirt as she balled them into a fist. Her heart pounded, she could hear it in her ears and feel the blood coursing through her veins. It was getting hard to breathe. Why could she not breathe? Why couldn't she think? Why was her vision spinning? Was it a concussion, or was she losing it?

The Triceratops bellowed and raked its front leg on the ground. Despite being in fear’s clutches, Yaz subconsciously knew it was about to charge. Suddenly the aspect of getting trampled by a horse seemed far more appealing.

The Triceratops stomped forward, waving its horns threateningly. Yaz couldn’t move. She wanted to pull herself off the ground and bolt toward the nearest tree. She wanted to be safe, to be inside, to be far away from this prehistoric beast. But her body was rooted to the floor, tied down by unseen vines. Despite the adrenaline pulsing through her veins and the chilling numbness of her hands, she could only watch powerlessly as she sat directly in the line of fire.

“Yaz!” Sammy was suddenly right by her side on horseback. Quite literally her knight in shining armor. She extended a hand down to her. Yaz felt a sharp pierce plunge through her heart at the palpable fear she found lying behind Sammy's eyes. “Come on!”

Yaz still felt frozen by invisible roots. She wanted to reach for Sammy. She wanted them to huddle under the blanket fort Sammy had insisted they build in her room last night. Her and Sammy had been at checkers for nearly two hours before Sammy’s mother had called them down for dinner. She wanted to wake up in the morning and breathe in the aroma of fresh, fluffy cinnamon rolls and salted, crisp bacon. Would she ever partake in these memories again? Or would they be snuffed out, much like her life might very well be. If only she could just…

MOVE!

With one hand wrapped around the stirrup, Sammy leaned down and grabbed Yaz by the arm. Yaz knew her girlfriend was strong, like really really strong. Calling her "country strong" wasn't just a cute pet name, it was a fact.

Sammy's rapid maneuver was enough to nudge Yaz up and back into the saddle. With a quick snap of the reins and click of her heels, Sammy ushered Kota forward. The trike missed them by a hair, nearly getting clocked on the muzzle by the stallion's hooves.

Yaz had her arms wrapped around Sammy in a death grip, her face buried against her wool jacket. It felt like she was holding her breath for every second until they had made it safely to the barn. Her chest was tight and sweat rolled down the side of her head. She could barely feel her fingers besides the buzzing, staticky feeling she noticed there.

"Yaz?"

She looked up with rounded eyes. Sammy released the reins and kicked her leg up and over as she dismounted. Immediately, she turned and extended a hand toward Yaz in a gesture of assistance. "Are you okay?"

No. No she wasn't. With a shaky breath and trembling hand, she reached out. Sammy's hands were worn with numerous callouses; no doubt a result from her long days of working hard on the ranch. Her fingers intertwined with Yaz's. At the touch, the dam holding back her tears finally broke. Yaz sank to her knees and began to sob.

Sammy was right there, kneeling down and pulling her into an embrace. "It's okay, Yaz. I'm here," She cooed, gently rubbing her back in a circular motion.

Yaz nestled closer to her, hoping Sammy's very presence would be enough to chase away her inner demons. "I... I thought... I thought we'd be done with dinosaurs," She admitted weakly. She hated feeling like this. Vulnerable. It was like she was a little kid all over again; someone who needed to be coddled and comforted by her mother.

"I know..." Sammy replied sympathetically as she rested her head against Yaz's. "I wasn't expecting to see a trike so close to home."

It was getting a little easier to breathe now. Just a little. "Why? Why is it here?" She choked out, closing her eyes.

Sammy grew silent. Yaz didn't expect her to answer that rhetorical question. After all, how in the world would she know what a dinosaur was doing hundreds of miles from Nublar?

Rather, Sammy began to hum. Her tone lilted in a melancholic sway. Yaz seemed momentarily taken aback as her heartbeat began to steady and her limbs slackened. With every rise and fall in tempo, Yaz begun to notice an unmistakable pattern in the rhythm.

Yaz leaned back and cupped Sammy's cheek in her hand. Her eyes still stung, and she knew she probably looked like a bedraggled mess. Right now, that didn't matter. "How do you know that song?"

Sammy leaned into Yaz's touch. "Your mother taught it to me. She knows you've been having a tough time since the island..." She trailed off and averted her gaze.

Yaz relaxed her features and silently urged Sammy to continue. "She told me it used to help you when you were little... and I thought it might help in this situation," She murmured sheepishly and rubbed her arm in embarrassment with flushed cheeks.

Yaz cracked a gentle smile at that and swiftly planted a kiss atop her forehead. "It did help. I'm sorry. For freezing like that..."

"Hey, none of that," Sammy lectured sternly with a good-natured smile. She held both of Yaz's hands in her own. "Just because we're off the island, it doesn't mean those feelings just up and disappeared. But I know you, Yaz. You're the bravest, most stubborn fighter I know. We just need to take baby steps again."

Baby steps. Right. It was like running a marathon; you don't go full sprint right off the bat. You pace yourself until you're further along with the finish line in sight.

"It just... surprised me is all," Yaz continued. The fireflies casted a gentle, infrequent glow across the purple and blue painted sky. "I thought I would be over this. But what if...? What if there are more dinosaurs?" Particularly the ones that would have them for a midnight snack.

"I don't know," Sammy admitted, returning the kiss on Yaz's forehead. "But what I do know is that I'm here if you ever need me. We conquered Nublar together. And if dinosaurs are on the mainland now, we'll conquer that together too. You're stronger than your fears."

Yaz smiled and pulled Sammy close. There was one constant in her life when it came to dinosaurs: Sammy. When her PTSD got the better of her on Manta Corp's island, she was there to help ease her nerves and shift her attention toward other matters. Even if they were states apart, she knew Sammy would just be a phone call away. And that was enough.

"I'll always be here for you, mi rosa. For now, and forever."

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mrs-willow · 4 months ago

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"A Raven and a Falcon"

Chapter 2

The sun is unable to poke through the clouds on the crisp winter morning plaguing the riverlands. The snow has yet to fall in the riverlands but the old women in the kitchens and the farmers in the surrounding langs grumble with complaints of sore hips and headaches they claim brought on by a long hard winter. Stable boys run around the yard to prepare the horses to be brought inside the castle walls when the first snow falls. Every hearth in the castle is lit in an attempt to keep the cold out of the stone walls but it seeps through regardless of the residents' attempt to keep it out. A few drops of rain began to fall as a small patrol party left the gate of the castle, heading south to patrol the lands. Four of the young men joke gleefully, unaffected by the less than enjoyable weather. Sharing tales of the past night's escapades in the nearby town, the men share stories of drunken laughs and friendly women. The fifth man rides at the front of the small group, seemingly detached from the joyful party trailing behind him. His dark hair grows wet even with the light rain causing a chill to set into his bones as drops of water fall down his back.

“Beji,” one of the men exclaimed, “Get back here and tell your friends about last night!”

With an annoyed sigh, the young Lord slowed his horse and fell alongside the patrol party. “What would you wish to know?” Benji questioned.

“How about we start with the red head that dragged you up the stairs?” The talk skinny man said with a teasing smirk followed by a crude raise of the eyebrows.

The trailing men fell quiet hoping to hear yet another story of whores and secretly remember which woman to pursue on their next visit into town.

“John, you little pervert, are you going to start jacking it in front of us all?” Beji questioned.

The man bristled, “I just wanted to know what my dear friend's first time was like and if his partner fulfilled all his fantasies” John stated. Earning a few hushed giggles from the men behind him.

Ryan, the blonde man at the very back of the group whistled and called out, “Benji, was she truly the woman who took our dear Lord's sweet flower?”

With that, Benjicot whipped his head around, and an angry snarl left his mouth but the gleam in his eyes betrayed his feigned anger.

“You cunts!” he spat, “you all know I was fucking the farmer's daughters before you lot even grew cunt hairs.”

The boys all whopped and whistled at their friends outburst.

John chuckled, “Oh relax m’Lord, we only wish to know that our friend can still get it up.”

Benjicot rolled his eyes and kicked his horse into a trot, “Let's pick it up little girls, those Braken cunts won’t wait for you lot before they drive their herds to our last living patches of grass.”

The patrol ground galloped across the open fields, the once thriving grass now wilting with the frost, not yet thawed from the cold night.

Somewhere back in the castle, an old man mirrored his old friend's contemplative look as he read the short message he received in response to a previous proposition. Lord Samwell Blackwood sat at a table similar to his friend far across the world, cowering from the cold; Lord Blackwood thought of his son's reaction when he was informed of this news. Samwell knew his son better than most fathers know their children, he knew that his son would be just ruler and maintain the good Blakwood name. He would protect their lands and do his duty if he must, but the wild boy would not adjust well to the life his father led. One full of long mornings, packed with meetings and endless papers to sort through and read. The old man knew his son preferred training and riding to remaining indoors, and he feared that he would resist when told he must fulfill all duties of court and married life.

South of the castle, Benjicot and his men patrolled along their southeast border, ensuring no border stones had been mysteriously moved. They were looking for fresh tracks, tearing up the earth by trespassing Bracken horses. The men following their young lord still conversing lightheartedly but maintained a watchful eye on the land south of them, all understanding the gravity of the task bestowed upon them. There had been no Bracken raids in the recent year, but with Lord Tully's declining health, many understood that the fighting would start soon. The Brackens would start testing the boundaries, each time growing more daring with their transgressions. By that hour the party had been on horseback since before dawn and the men had begun to grow weary of the rain, still, they must wait for their relieving party to fetch them and permit them to return home to the Castle. Just as the first complaint was going to leave Ryan's mouth, a voice called from behind the group. Benjicot immediately whipped around, his frame poised for a fight, but soon realized it was a group of Blackwood men sent to relieve them of their watch.

As Benjicot released his white knuckle grip on his sword, the eldest man of the party called out, “M’Lord, the Lord Samewell requests your presents back at Reventree.” The old man claimed as he led his small party further along the boundary line.

Benjicot remained quite safe for a small nod in recognition. The men then turned their horses into a fast gallop home, none wishing to remain in the cold without dry clothes any longer. As he rode, once again ignoring the teasing group behind him, Benjicot wondered what his Lord Father wished to speak with him about. The pair frequently spoke and spent time in one another's company, often taking meals together and spending long hours in the study while Benji prepared for his role as future Lord of Raventree.

As Benji strode through the halls of his home, his friends gone in search of hot food and fresh clothes, he still couldn’t reason as to why his Lord Father called for him in such a manner, often simply seaking the young lord out himself save for sending a man to relay messages. As Benji came upon the Lord's study, a room he was more than familiar with, he reasoned that whatever his father yearns to tell him, could not be desirable news.

With a sharp knock at the door, Lord Samwell bid his son enter, already knowing who waited outside.

“My boy,” Samwell greeted as he rose from his desk.

“Father,” Benji replied as he strode to meet the old man at the far end of the room. “I must ask, what is this about?” he questioned, “you never send for me in such a way.”

“Oh hush now boy, don't ruffle those pretty feathers,” his father teased as he gazed upon his son. The boy sported the famous black hair of their house as well as a scar on his lip and nose from past duels. Despite this, the young man was still excedingling handsome in an unconventional way. The young man, still at the ripe age of twenty, looked down at his father as the old man wondered when the last time he had been as tall and strapping as his eldest son.

“I have news,” Samwell stated as he reclaimed his seat behind the large desk.

Benjicot remained in his place quietly waiting for his Lord Father to reveal what had been plaguing his mind for the past hour.

The old man sighed then looked to his son as he asked, “You remember my old friend Robert Arryn?” The man paused and waited for his son's response.

“Yes father, we met many times.” Benji stated as he grew uncomfortable under his fathers hard stare.

“Well he has a daughter, reaching her ten and eight name day soon…” Samwell paused hoping he would not have to continue this scrutinizing conversation.

“Yes.” Benji replied, his eyes and face giving nothing away.

“You are to marry her, Benjicot. She travels to Raventree Castle in a fortnight and the two of you will be married soon after.”

Waiting for the grumbling and anger, Samwell watched his son as he remained planted in his same spot. The young man bent his head as confirmation to his father that he understood.

“Whatever you wish father, I am prepared to fulfill my duties,” the young man stated in a hard voice, “May I take my leave, I have business to attend to in the training yard.”

Samwell sighed and dismissed his son, almost wishing for arguing and a fight rather than silence. The Lord knew his son would be a fine husband. He would not strike her or cause her any suffering. He would provide for her and their children without question, but Samwell feared that he would never fully open up or trust another person in the way a man does with his wife.

Benjicot stormed through the castle halls, eyes trained on the stone floors, intent on reaching the training ground immediately. When he arrived at the field, he saw John and a few others already engrossed in a duel; when the group caught sight of their friend, they called out, “What was all that about then?”

The young men watched their friend unsheathed his sword stating in an unemotional voice, “I am to be married.”

His eyes hardened as John took the stance in preparation for a duel. With hard eyes, Binjicot started swinging.

Also... I know this is Dragonstone, but I think it's the coolest castle, and I imagine Raventree as being pretty dark and kinda ominous. Just disregard if ur not into it but I couldn't really find anything on Raventree Hall.

Thanks to everyone who read Chapter 1. I appreciate it, and I'm trying to post at least one chapter a day. I'm so excited for them to meet, but it probably won't be for a few chapters. I'm killing myself with this slow burn.

#benjicot blackwood imagines #benjicot blackwood smut #benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood #house of the dragon smut #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd smut #davos blackwood #kieran burton #house arryn #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction

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lady0ctavia · 1 month ago

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As We Ponder Belief

(2p!Prussia x Reader) - Chapter 18

Note: This story is based vaguely during the mid 1200s in Eastern Europe where the Teutonic Knights fought the Northern Crusades to try and convert the native pagan population to Christianity. As a result, this story will have heavy religious themes all throughout. It should also be noted that, while referencing real-life events and locations, I am not striving for full historical accuracy. This is for the sake of the story I am telling.

Once again, this series will have heavy religious themes throughout, including discussions of bible stories, doctrine, and scripture verses, as well as critical analysis of Christian doctrine and beliefs. So, if you don't like that, you will want to skip out on this.

The hours seemed to stretch forever as the party trotted along the dirt road, headed northeast. The trees that once sang to (y/n) the sweet melodious tune of spring seemed to echo the dying remains of that very season. The forest that seemed beautiful from the outside felt dark and foreboding within, even with the sun sitting high above them in the air, shining down on them all.

(y/n) sat as a passenger on a horse and clung to the knight before her so as not to fall off. That knight was Gilbert, though to be honest, she would have preferred to be his brother instead. Ahead of them rode another knight, as well as two others behind. Knights there to protect her on her journey to a new home. A home she didn't know, nor that she wanted to live in, despite never having seen it before.

Oh, how she longed for this to be a dream. To wake up back in her little guest bedroom in the fortress. To go down to the dining hall for breakfast before getting started with her day in the infirmary. With Gillen. As she closed her eyes, she began to wonder. Did he truly have feelings for her? Or was that just his brother's paranoia? Either way, she thought about how beautiful he looked when dueling with Gilbert. How he smiled, how his long, elegant, silvery-white hair shone brilliantly in the sunlight, swaying behind him. How his voice started to become more and more tender when he spoke to her, up until a couple of weeks ago.

I still wonder what that was about. Could it be that Gilbert said something to him?

Upon thinking of the older brother, she looked up at Gilbert, his back still turned to her. As if sensing her eyes on him, he spoke up.

"How are you doing back there?" He asked.

She hung her head low. "To be honest? I have been better. Only recently have I lost my family, and now..." Hot tears began to pool around her eyes. "I feel as though I am losing them all over again."

Gilbert held tight onto the reins, guilt eating him from the inside out when he heard (y/n) begin to sniffle from behind him. He understood that she was in pain, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel terrible about what he was doing. But Gillen was his younger brother. And with that came a sense of responsibility to him. He never wanted to do anything to hurt (y/n), but as far as he knew, this had to be done. It couldn't be helped. He had no idea what he could say to the maiden to keep her from crying, so he kept quiet, the sounds of her tears threatening to break him.

The group continued to ride along for a while more, the sun still sitting high above, when suddenly, the knight at the front of the group stopped, prompting the others to halt as well.

"What is it?" Gilbert demanded.

Before the man could answer, (y/n) heard a sharp thwack before the man at the front of the group tumbled off his horse and fell to the ground. Upon closer inspection, she was horrified to see an arrow sticking out of the man's neck and blood spilling from his mouth. The disgusting, gurgling sound of the man choking on his own blood was too much to bear, giving (y/n) a reason to scream. A scream that was met with the cries of warriors spilling out from the surrounding trees, frightening the now dying knight's horse and sending the beast galloping away into the woods.

The warriors yelled out a battle cry in a language that she didn't understand. But given the situation, she didn't need to, nor did she have to ask who these men were. Pagans.

"(y/n), hold on tight!" Gilbert called out to her, but this plea was for naught as his frightened steed reared up on its hind legs, sending her tumbling to the ground and landing with a solid thud.

Through a chaotic haze of men yelling and fighting, (y/n) attempted to scramble back up to her feet, only to be knocked back into the dirt and pinned down, her face shoved into the ground below. She then felt a heavy weight upon her back as she could feel her hands being bound together with rope. Sensing what was happening, she kicked and screamed, hollering for Gilbert to help her, only to be answered with a blow to the back of the head.

Her vision remained hazy only for a moment as the man hauled her up and over her shoulder. Frantically, she searched for her friend. She found Gilbert still on his horse, though only barely as he desperately tried to get control of the raging, fearful stallion. All the while he swung his sword desperately at a man below him, trying to get him to back off. The pagan trying to fight him found himself getting kicked in the head by the horse, falling to the ground, knocked out.

The two knights were not faring as well as Gilbert. One of them could barely react as a pagan brought a club down into his head, bashing in his skull and sending him sprawled across the forest floor. The other fought valiantly, and was able to take out multiple pagans with his sword, but found himself unable to overpower a large, burly pagan who decapitated him with one strike.

No, not again! Not again!

(y/n) tried to scream, but another pagan came up and tied a gag around her mouth, muffling her cries of fear and desperation. The gag tasted foul, nearly making her vomit. The pagan that had a hold of her began to run away off the beaten path and into the forest. The last she saw of Gilbert was of her friend realizing the odds were not in his favor and retreating. but not without looking back and making eye contact with (y/n).

"I will be back!" Was his promise as he rode off to save his own skin.

I hope so. Was her silent plea. Meanwhile, the other pagans grabbed a hold of the horses still there, hoping to take them back home with them.

While being carried, (y/n) began to sob. The pagan carrying her yelled something in his native tongue, probably trying to get her to shut up. She complied, but it was nearly impossible to hold back the sheer terror filling her mind.

Am I going to be sent into slavery? Murdered Raped? What's going to happen to me?

The sun had long set its weary head over the horizon by the time they arrived at the pagan's camp. (y/n) could hardly make anything out in the darkness, other than the few torches lit here and there. By now she had grown tired, weary. She was exhausted by the tears and emotion, as well as physically exhausted from trying to fight the pagan carrying her down here against her will. They seemed to walk for ages before their arrival.

Walking through the camp, she looked over her shoulder to see where the man was taking her. Terror shot through her heart once more. It seemed to be a kind of building.

No, what's going to happen to be in there? Am I going to be sacrificed? Or worse?!

She began kicking and screaming once again, to which the man shouted at her in his native tongue. But she resisted as he brought her into a hut. Vicously throwing her head around, she eventually managed to maneuver the gag off of her head, having it now dangle around her neck.

"No! You won't be taking me! I-I won't let you!" She screeched aloud.

After carrying her into the hut, he threw her into a tiny room before setting a kind of door in front of her. It looked vaguely like a trap used to cage animals. She soon realized that this was a cell. She was a prisoner. Giving her a dirty look, the man left, leaving her alone.

As she processed the entire day and evening, she allowed herself to collapse onto the dirty ground of her prison cell, falling into despair.

Gillen, please... Wherever you are, please find me. I need you.

While lying there, she heard someone enter into the room. Oh come on, what now? She bemoaned whatever fate awaited her. But was surprised by the voice she heard.

"(y/n) (l/n)? Is that you?" A feminine, concerned voice called out, holding a small torch, illuminating the small space.

No, it couldn't be! Is it?

(y/n) looked up and behold a loving, kind face. A lovely young woman about her age with long, elegant blonde hair woven back into braids. When their eyes met, the woman began to tear up. (y/n) could hardly believe what, or rather who, she was seeing.

"Adeline?!"

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

I genuinely want to know how many of you saw this coming! Let me know what you think of this chapter!

#aph #hetalia #aph x reader #hetalia reader insert #hetalia x reader #aph reader insert #hetalia axis powers #2p hetalia #aph 2p!prussia #2p!hetalia #2p hetalia x reader #2p!hetalia x reader #2p!prussia #2p prussia #2p prussia x reader #2p!prussia x reader #gillen beilschmidt

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creacherkeeper · 10 months ago

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hi!! um. what. what do you mean you nearly died of heatstroke??

(warning for near death experiences, medical, puke, & child neglect ahead)

oh,,, well that's just One of the times ive nearly died (like the car crash. or the carbon monoxide poisoning. or the dog mauling. or the mrsa. or the second gas poisoning. or the-)

but essentially i went horseback riding. i hadn't gone for a while. it was 105f/40c and 105% humidity. all i had eaten that day was doritos and diet coke bc my parents were oh so responsible

am doing the lesson. the instructor does not offer me any water. it's in full sunlight the whole time. florida sun. she knows i have not ridden in a while but is pushing me to do physically demanding moves like trotting (hate trotting)

im doing this for like 30 min and go hey. can i take a break. and she's like yeah i guess

i stop the horse. sway for a moment. lean over to the side and puke everywhere and she's like Oh Shit

the horse does Not enjoy this so it bucks me off. i manage to land on my feet (ive landed on my feet all three times ive gotten bucked). i stand there for a moment and go Hmmm i can't see anything and collapse

i was unconscious for about 30 minutes. during the time i was partially awake i did not have any vision and could only see shrimp colors (i remember thinking they were really pretty and trying to remember them for later but i can't now). the instructor drags me under the shade of a tree and simply. leaves me out there. goes inside her house. i might've puked again but i don't remember. she never got my parents number so she couldn't call them to come get me. it's very touching spirit bear

(i feel like it's also important to note im allergic to horses)

finally my parents show up and im like hi ive been unconscious and still can't see anything and they're like oh so true so they pour some water over me until my vision comes back and then throw me in the backseat of the car with the ac blasting. take me home (not the doctor)

we get home and they're like soooooo. we have plans? so like. go sit in a tub of cool water and then sleep it off. and they leave

i got in the tub fully clothed because i was not coordinated enough to get anything off and riding clothes are tight. just sat in there for a while drifting in and out of consciousness. and then i dragged myself into bed and passed out

i don't super remember the next few days. but i lived lol? i just had a very bad brain injury that lasted for all of high school and some of college bc it was the summer before my freshman year (i had just turned 14). this brain injury did not get diagnosed until i was 24

so yeah :o) 👍 when i looked it up at age 24 it was like oh yeah if you have these symptoms it's like an 85% chance of death and i was like oh worm? didn't tell my parents that but i already wasn't talking to my mom and i only talked to my dad a handful of times after that (as im sure yall can understand)

truly i have survived so much i am invulnerable i think. and that's the story of my heat stroke

#HOPE YOU ENJOY (?) NONNY

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dxmoness · 2 years ago

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𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇 | 𝐄. 𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬

second part bc I have nothing to do anyway- enjoy <3

warning: nothing really- just obsessive thoughts and maybe implicated murder??

The days flew by with a flash. Every day the male watched the female be productive, continuously keeping an eye on who she was with and if she was being with proper intentions. At night he watched her sleep, feelings stirring inside him finding the girl enchantingly beautiful.

He watched now as Name laughed with delight at a joke the maid of hers made. A smile curling slowly from his lips as he watched focusing on her and only her. He was cautious when it came to where he was posed which was the main reason why he continued to wear dark colors.

A sound of a horse trotting by caught his attention. Someone was here to report. "What's your report?" He asked, not bothering to take his optics off the girl he had been staring at for a while now.

"They're almost defeated, Your Highness." A direct answer from the assassin assigned to watch and wait. This was enough for Eros. He loathed people who continuously talked before getting to the point.

A maniacal grin came to his lips with ease. "Good. Kill away. Leave the emperor's life spared, I have a great decision to give to him." This was going as planned. That meant another step towards his main goal. Getting the emperor's only daughter. Suddenly an image crept onto his mind that made him stop. "On second thought. Tell the men to retreat." This stunned the assassin.

Retreat? Had the prince gone mad to the point that he couldn't see the advantage they had now? "Beg your pardon, my prince? Did you say ask the men to-" "I despise repeating myself." The prince's optics blazing with loathing towards the assassin who bowed in respect and fright. "As you wish, sir." He babbled before rushing and heading back to where the battlefield was full of flames and blood.

Good riddance. Now he could watch in peace, turning back to the view of the kitchen window he was met with disappointment. Name was nowhere to be seen. Clenching his teeth with annoyance, he got off of the branch that had been carrying his weight throughout the whole ordeal, and climbed higher to another sturdy looking branch perfect for his size and assuming weight.

Turning back to the house, his annoyance faded. The female was eating the tart she had made by the patio. She looked so beautiful. She always did. A sigh escaped from his lips as he leaned against the tree trunk. He wanted to reveal himself truly he did, but the fear of her getting terrified over his existence was not a good one.

Name may not know him yet, but she will soon enough. Once Empire Name goes on their knees to the Vasilios empire, she'll be the only person who can stop the destruction of her father's empire. The only one he'll agree to deal with.

Soon. He'll have her all for himself soon.

Name got off the carriage, the weight on her shoulders that had not gone away for the past week had faded in such a way that she even questioned if she ever had such a weight.

Her father had asked her to go home, and to discuss something with him so it seemed that the battle had been won. Until the news hit her that is.

"What?" Her head was spinning. She had not been prepared for such disturbing news. "They just retreated after you were failing to keep the battle?" This was nonsense. Pure nonsense. Why would the Vasilios empire, whose reputation was as powerful as it gets, retreat after what seemed like the perfect opportunity to gain control over their mortal enemies? "Was there any specific reason or.."

Her father seemed grim. His face did not betray his thoughts, he was hiding everything from her which was never normal for the ever positive emperor everyone knew and adored. "Nothing. There was no reason they could have had, no letters given to prove their point and absolutely no—" The slam of the door startled both father and daughter as a panicked guard appeared in the doorway. His face was red, it seems he had been running.

"What is it?" The emperor asked with concern spreading onto his face.

The guard took a few moments to catch his breath, then he stood up. "There's a visitor from the Vasilios Empire, Your Grace! She requests your presence with some important information she says." The emperor frowned at this before turning to his daughter.

"Go rest, you've had a long journey-" "No. I wish to listen. If it's about the Vasilios Empire it means answers and I will not hear answers from someone who isn't the messenger." This slightly disturbed the emperor. What had happened to his obedient daughter? She suddenly became a person with a hard exterior after finding out that years of war had gone on and on.

He just sighed before nodding. Denying her request will only worsen her mood, and that never did end well anytime during her youth.

Both father and daughter sat across a purple haired female, Medea Solon, who didn't seem that all interested with anything of their empire. "I've been told you needed a word with me?" F/N asked, pouring each of them tea.

"Indeed I did." Yet you brought her with you. Her eyes wandered to the female next to the emperor as she drank her tea slowly. The person she had an interest in was the female, no one else. "Who might this be?" She asked, putting down tea cup.

"I am Name L/N, only daughter of the L/Ns." Name said with confidence as well as confusion. Why was she interested in her and not her father?

"Pleasure to meet you." The cold tone slightly melted. So this was the girl he had interest in. She didn't see what the girl had that interested that bastard, but it didn't matter. What mattered now was how she executed her plan.

"So? State your business." The emperor was irritated, this female was making things longer and more negative thoughts flooded his brain.

"Your Grace, I have a proposal that will benefit both my empire and your own, but first I need to see if I can trust you." She gave a smile one that made her look like she could kill.

taglist?? (sorry for the tags TT)

@d10nsaint | @that-one-pretty-bitch | @sidra-29 | @rouecentric | @jeweledflowers

#manhwa #your throne #manhwa x reader #eros vasilios #eros vasilios x reader #self insert #your throne x reader

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andromeda4004 · 2 years ago

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Chapter 12 sneak peak

Morningstar Abbey

I’m not going to be posting a full chapter today (I haven’t finished writing it yet) but I thought you would like a peak at a new character we will meet when our boys arrive at Morningstar itself. It’s my (questionable) pleasure to introduce General Lucius Crowley...

The carriage has driven from Bath and is drawing up outside Crowley’s family home:

They slowed to a trot on the drive, where a laden travelling carriage was waiting, a team of four fine horses stamping their feet and huffing in the cold air.

“Damn it,” Crowley muttered. “He hasn’t left yet.” He forced a smile. “Looks as though you’ll have the chance to meet the old man, after all.”

“Oh! I shall be glad to,” though Aziraphale had heard enough of the General to have formed a most unfavourable impression of him.

“I wouldn’t be sure of that.”

Crowley drew the phaeton to a stop with a final crunch of gravel, and leapt down, handing the reins to a boy who ran out from the shadow of the building. Adam scorned the offered hand and jumped down himself, but Aziraphale was glad to take it, both for the assistance and the plausible excuse to feel Crowley’s hand in his, if only for a moment.

“Adam!” a voice cried. Aziraphale dropped Crowley’s hand and whipped around to look at the doorway, where a tall gentleman stood framed by the gothic archway. Aziraphale recognised him without hesitation. There could be no mistaking that face, which Madame Tracy had immediately seen in Crowley when first they met.

Adam walked up the steps towards him. “Good afternoon, Father,” he said, extending a hand to shake, and had his hair ruffled for his efforts.

“Glad to have you home, boy! And you, Anthony! Still making a fool of yourself with that random-tandem team, I see. And this must be our guest!”

Crowley visibly braced himself and pinned a smile in place as they approached. “Father! I should like to introduce-”

“Mr Fell,” said the General, extending a strong hand towards Aziraphale. “Or is it Reverend Fell?” His teeth were remarkably white and straight in his wide, welcoming grin.

“Oh, ah, Mr Fell is quite – ah, I only use Reverend when at my work,” Aziraphale managed. “You must be the General; I am indebted to you for the invitation, truly it is kind of you-”

“Nonsense, Mr Fell, you are most welcome here at Morningstar. Adam speaks well of you, and that must be enough to recommend you to me.” The General released his hand and Aziraphale did his best to marshal his thoughts.

Lucius Crowley was remarkably like his second son, in height and build and sense of style, his back unbent and head held proudly despite being evidently well past his sixtieth year. Crowley’s fine lines were deeper wrinkles on his father, and the rich rust of the younger man’s colouring had faded out to a cinnamon-blond dusting in the distinguished white hair. The General maintained striking military whiskers, the moustache joining the sideburns, but the whole was neatly groomed, not left to run amok. Aziraphale was glad to see that Crowley had not inherited the General’s eyes, at least; they were a common hazel, and Aziraphale liked knowing that his Crowley had that feature uniquely.

His Crowley? Dash it, he had to overcome this!

“I – I am very glad to be here,” he said, dragging himself back to the moment. “Your home is beautiful, General Crowley; I do not recall when I have seen such striking architecture.”

The General ushered him through into the main hall, a tall, wide affair, dominated by the branched staircase leading to the upper galleries, and the double-height arched windows that bespoke the building’s religious history; General Crowley waved it all away with a dismissive hand. “Ah, yes, we are fortunate in our stonework that the Abbey was built well, but I have completed a great deal of modernisation here since I took it over, and I think you will be most pleased with the results achieved, a modern gentleman such as yourself. All this gothic grandeur is very well, but hardly fit for this innovative century!” As he spoke, he drew Aziraphale further into the building, through a door on the right of the main hall, and into-

A completely ordinary drawing room, plastered and wallpapered in a nod to the latest mode of Eastern inspiration favoured by the Regent. Had the room been part of a modern townhouse, Aziraphale would have thought it well-appointed, but in an abbey it was strangely … wrong.

He turned a bright smile back towards the General, who was quite obviously watching him for a reaction. “Charming!”

___

If you want to read the rest:

#good omens fanfic #ineffablyausten #good omens au #ineffable husbands #wip wednesday #but on a thursday

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torbeen · 2 years ago

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Σ(ﾟДﾟ；): Have they ever sprained or broken their leg before? How about their arm? What was the story behind it?

"Near broke my leg once as it happens. But what good fortune it was that the ground broke my fall." Torben explained, the good natured sarcasm so thick in his words that they may as well have been saturated in it. Ohhh yes, this was an amusing story to him. There was joy in his eyes, alight like jewels catching the light of the sun, at the mere chance to regale this stranger with the tale.

"It sounds so simple, doesn't it? Leaping from a horse as it gallops and landing upon the ground? It sounds easy. But let me tell you, actually doing it? It's trot easy." Torben rubbed a hand over the thigh of his left leg, as if the memory still created an ache. "Was chasing down..." A pause now as Torben struggled to recall the exact details, though eventually simply chose to wave his hand about in a vaguely dismissive gesture as the details eluded him. "Something or other. All that matters is that we were trying to stirrup some trouble. Chasing down something of value. Now, as usual, it was me who was saddled with the responsibility of actually reining in the goods." Ohhh how amused Torben looked now, the smirk on his lips having no intention of climbing down from its high horse.

"Whoever we were chasing dropped the loot, so we let them go. Better to take coin than lives I always say. Coin is our mane focus, as you likely know." The story continued, as did Torben's own satisfaction at himself. "So, there is the loot, just waiting to be plucked. Too low to the ground for me to reach down for it, so, I figured, why not just leap from Radish, scoop it up, and get on out of there?"

A shrug now, as if it was truly impossible for him to have known that leaping feet to the ground at full gallop was not the most stable of notions. "So, I leapt. And. Well, you can imagine. Landed hard. Couldn't get up. What a good thing my compatriots were not far behind, they did the neigh-borly thing and put me back on my horse. That was that."

A pause, then Torben snapped his fingers, pointing straight at the stranger. "We got the score though! That is what matters!"

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zuluc · 4 years ago

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anonymous requested: 👉👈 Diluc cuddles after reader has had a long, rough day?

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

style & genre: written; fluff

warnings: a tiny bit suggestive

notes: i like how most of the requests i have are for diluc but i am not complaining because that means there will be more diluc content to circulate; also diluc as a cuddler please i wANT

for most of the requests you’re like the traveller but without a ration

The aching in your muscles calls out to you as you walk through the paths of Springvale, desperate for the moment your head could hit the pillows. You still had to walk all the way to Mondstadt for your place of rest and you had no horse or any other means for transportation besides your own two feet. The townspeople who were still awake give you looks of sympathy when they see you pass by them with Draff offering to provide you with a place for a night and some food. You politely decline and go on your way, your head going through the events of the day to keep you awake.

You are immensely tired there is no denying that. There were too many camps in such a small area and there were barely enough knights to assist you. A few hilichurls were able to get a good hit on you due to your fatigue building up and the woodshield mitachurls were having a field day. You were bruised and tired and today was just not your day.

The knights that were with you wanted to bring you back to the town to get patched up but you were already gone once the last of the structures was destroyed. In actuality, you didn’t want to burden them and there was still one commision you needed to get done without them knowing.You got to complete it, however, with a few more injuries added to the plate.

The sun is near setting and the darkening skies did nothing to help you in your predicament. You shuffle to the underside of a small cliff and stare off into the distance of Mondstadt, calculating the shortest path to take that wouldn’t be full of congregating slimes. You sigh with a shiver from the breeze that brushes against your face. Your eyes move to the ground to make sure you won’t trip on any stray rocks or sticks because at this point anything could knock you over.

With your eyes trained downward you are unaware of someone in front of you and an “oof” comes out from you when you faceplant into their chest. Stepping back, you open your mouth to apologize and they hold onto your arms.

“You must be kidding me,” they say and you’re suddenly perked up at the voice. Dliuc has an unamused look on his face and there was no questioning that the knights had told him what you’ve been up to. “Are you overworking yourself again?” You don’t meet his eyes as a sheepish smile makes its way onto your lips.

Diluc crosses his arms at the sight of knights coming towards him. Was there something their incompetence couldn’t solve? He didn’t know nor did he want to.

“Master Diluc!’ One of them calls out to him.

“What is it?” His voice holds its usually cold tone.

“The Honorary Knight is overworking themselves again. They declined to come back with us for treatment for their injuries and--”

“Did you say injuries?” The knight nods. Diluc knew you were capable of fighting and taking care of yourself out there but there were the days in which you took on too many missions at once. These knights were truly useless if they didn’t at least try to convince you. He grows upset. “Where did you last see them?”

“Ah, well... they disappeared after one of the camps was cleared out but one of those passing by the fields saw them heading towards Springvale.” Diluc doesn’t say anything else to the knight as he leaves to get you.

“Uh, define ‘overworking’...” that’s when you see him roll his eyes but there’s no warning when he tugs you towards the horse you just noticed behind him. “Wait, Diluc!” You are helped onto it and he climbs up behind you, arms coming around your middle to hold the reins.

“You never listen do you.” His voice is stern but you can hear the concern underlying in it and how his arms tighten ever so slightly around you. His body warmth is clear and present against your back and you can’t help but close your eyes with the feeling of sleep oh so welcoming. Your eyes close and Diluc notices, making sure to keep you in steady so you don’t shift off and fall as you move towards Dawn Winery.

You are mostly asleep by the time you both arrive and you can hear and feel the trotting stop. You feel yourself being carried off of the horse and away from the cold air through the winery’s doors. There were gasps from inside and Diluc’s smooth voice directing them to draw you a bath, his voice trailing off as you come in and out of sleep.

By the time you opened your eyes again you found yourself in a warm bath. You look down and your face flushes to see that you had been stripped of your clothes, vaguely aware of who it was that did so.

“You’re getting very careless,” Diluc says from beside you. You are startled, unaware that he was next to you this entire time while you stared into the water. “Luckily enough you just had bruises and no bleeding.” You sink further into the water because you believe he’s mad at you. You had worried him a lot whenever you would take on missions after missions without rest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is somewhat muffled with your lips level with the water. You gaze lifts to his face and you do a double-take. He must have cleaned up before you awoke since his hair is loose across his back and shoulders and the top of his shirt is unbuttoned. He smells clean and warm, a scent you almost always fall asleep to when he is beside you.

Diluc gives you a hard look then his eyes soften when they see the guilt in your own. He reaches out to you, flicking your forehead lightly. His hand moves to the back of your head to tilt it up to face him. You hum when he kisses you, the type of kiss that leaves your lips tingling from the warmth.

After you’ve cleaned up and dried, Diluc dresses you in one of his larger shirts and lays you gently on his bed as he was carrying you again. Your bruises feel less prominent and your heart pangs at the amount of care he shows you. You snuggle underneath the covers and peek out the top at his form as he moves around the room. The fireplace lights his face with an almost heavenly glow and your cheeks grow warm with the view of him looking that good in front of you. Sleeves rolled up and shirt unbuttoned: he would be the death of you.

He smirks when he feels your gaze. “Staring is rude, love.” You huff and bury in the covers again. The cold sheets cool your face and you feel him shift into bed beside you, lifting the covers off your face so he can see you. He has a soft smile as he caresses your cheek. You lean into his touch and place an arm around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, guilt evident in your features, “I made you worry.” He’s mindful of your injuries while pulling you to his chest.

“Next time, be more careful. You work hard but you don’t have to do it to this extent. Yes I’m worried, I won’t lie about that, but make sure you are taking care of yourself.” You nod against him and feel the softest of forehead kisses. He trails it down your face, stopping at your lips then moving to your neck. They’re light and fleeting but numerous. He shifts and you raise an eyebrow at his movement when he moves further down. He places kisses on your exposed collarbone, nipping softly in some areas.

“D-Diluc? What are you doing?”His hands land on your hips and your hands are clutching tightly at his shoulders. His arms come around you as he buries his face in your chest. He looks up in confusion before realization hits him and he chuckles at the implication.

“Did you want me to keep going?” Diluc has a mischevious look in his eyes, “I can make the rest of your pain go away...” Your heart races and you can’t look him in the eye, embarassed at his words. He chuckles again at your misery and decides to stop with his teasing. He knows you’re tired and today’s work took quite a toll on your physical state. You hug his head to you and put your hands in his hair. It’s as soft as always and he sighs in content when you run your fingers through it.

“When did you get so bold?” You mutter, sleep slowly seeping into you despite how fast your heart had been beating moments ago.

“Only for you, my love.” He kisses your neck one more time, “Only for you.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc

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lilith-of-rivia · 4 years ago

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The Bards Sister Geralt XFemale!Reader Part 1

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Masterlist

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadnt seen since she was 5. The journal is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. I know i am trash at summaries.

Trigger warnings: NONE a lot of Geralt and Jaskier in this first part. Your charicter doesn’t come in till closer to the end.

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,095 longest fanfic I’ve ever written!!

A/N: hello my loves!!! I got my Insperation back!! I’m hopping i will be regularly posting agin!!! I ove you all so much you consistent love and supoort has not gone unnoticed. The constant likes and reblogs truly means the world to me. I love every single one of you so much. Thank you for believing in my writing the way you do. All my love -Lilith ps. I have reviewed and edited but I will be doing a more in-depth review soon!

“Where are we going, Jaskier.” The Witcher’s brooding voice echoed threw the flowered valley. His horse trotted not far behind his companion. Jaskier looked back at him and just rolled his eyes.

“How many times have you led me on endless roads, towards the middle of nowhere speaking little to no words to me no matter how much I ask?” Geralt said nothing. Jaskier snorted looking back towards the road.

“Exactly. No shut up, your brooding is giving me a headache.” The bard was giving the witcher a taste of his own medicine. The idea that Jaskier was leading him to somewhere he had no idea of the location, made him uneasy. Did he trust his bard? Absolutely without a doubt. Would he ever admit it to him? No never.

Their travels continued till the sun was barely hanging in the sky. The air had grown crisp replacing the harsh burning of the full summer sun. Jaskier pulled his mare to the side of the road, climbing off her, tying her to a tree. Geralt followed, realizing they were stopping for the day.

“We still have a couple hours of daylight left.” Geralt said as he took Roach’s saddle and tack off.

“We don't need a couple hours, we are nearly there. Maybe an hour and half.” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier.

“Then why did we stop?” Jaskier pulled his saddle bags off his horse, putting them beside a log as he gathered some sticks for the fire.

“Because I have to debrief you as to who we are going to see and you must bathe before we do so. The stream here will do the trick.”

“Gods Jaskier, will you just tell me where we are going? The secrecy is bullshit.” The broot of a man was losing his patience with his friend.

The duo had been on the trip for nearly two weeks. They left Tramieria and headed east. Much further east than Geralt could ever remember traveling. Yet the bard seemed to know exactly what turns to take and when. The closer they drew to their destination the more the witcher could hear his heart beat faster.

“Jaskier if this is some stupid plot for me to protect you from some man who’s wife you slept with again-“

“It's not Geralt-“ Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose, his stress causing a minor headache. “Just go bathe then I’ll tell you everything.” Geralt studied his friend, his eyes searching his face, his ears tuning into his heart beat trying his best to figure out what he was getting himself into.

With a low grunt the witcher grabbed his last set of clean clothes and the bar of soap from the bard's hand before stomping off to the river.

“Clean EVERYTHING!” Jaskier yelled over his shoulder. Only getting an unfriendly finger in return.

Nearly an hour later, the sun was completely hidden behind the canyon, the glow of the fire Jaskier started illuminating their small camp. Jaskier’s fingers strummed mindlessly at his lute, his eyes fixed on the stars that were making their presence known more, humming to himself softly. He heard his friends footsteps as he approached, his hair was wet at his shoulders. A fresh white Cotton tunic hugged his muscular build, black trousers hugging his legs. He smiled nice for once. All thanks to the lavender and honey soap Jaskier had received as a gift.

“Now don't you look better.” Jaskier said with a chuckle. The witcher sat down across the fire from him, his golden eyes staring heavily at the bard.

“Spill your guts Jaskier.” Jaskier rubbed his hands over his face and nodded. His eyes looking anywhere but at his friend.

“I haven't been completely forward about my family life.” Jaskier’s eyes landed on the moon above them. It was nearly full, he was doing well with time. He knew they would reach their destination well before the next full moon.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s harsh voice broke the silence. With a loud sigh Jaskier finally looked his friend in the face.

“I’m royalty Geralt.” The Witcher’s expression did not change. He just looked at his friend. He could hear Jaskier's heart beat become uneven and unsteady. At first he thought it was a joke but the nervous energy radiating from his long time friend made him think better.

“My family, they are wonderful people. My mother, bless her, taught me everything I needed to know about writing and music. Convinced my father to let me train at Oxenfurt Academy. My father is a noble and loyal king. He served our people well. Still does to my knowledge. I haven't been back in nearly 20 years…” the bard trailed off, his eyes fixated on his hands, his fingers twildilling with a ring he had on. The ring was that of his family. Their crest engraved into the gold.

“I was never meant to be a noble. I lived for adventure, for more than just sitting on a throne and watching people come and go. I was never fit to be king. My parents knew that. They understood. Understanding people they are.” His voice trailed off again, hopping his friend would say something. Ask a question. Anything. He didn’t know where to go next.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Geralt finally asked.

“Because it never came up. My family never needed me. I never needed them. I love them all dearly of course. But we were never the closest people in the world. Well, my sister and I were.” That caught the Witcher’s attention. His eyes narrow slightly, he made sure to not let his expression scare the bard into not telling him more. He was genuinely curious about his family. But he couldn't lie and say he wasn't disappointed that in the 7 years they traveled together he never heard of them.

“You have a sister?” The bard's eyes lit up. His memory raced with images of his tun little sister chasing him around the courtyard screaming, yelling his name. Her giggles and laughs pulling at his heart strings.

“Yes. Her name is (Y/N). She is about to be 25. Big age for a princess. I havnt seen her since she was very little.” His heart started to break softly. His neglect to his baby sitter weighting heavily on him.

“I write her often, as much as I can. She was...well, a surprise to my parents to say the least. I was 15 when she was born. I left home at 20. I was only around for her toddler years. I never got to see her grow, blossom into a young woman. I missed so much.” Jaskier had to fight back the tears, his throat becoming tight and dry. His body filling with regret.

“I just kept pushing it back Geralt. I alwasy said I’d make it home. I alwasy had it in the back of my mind to go back and see her. But I never did.”

“Why now?” Geralt asked.

“She wrote me a few months back. It was nearly a book. It was filled with tales of her new travels around our country. She had been training heavily with an unmanned matester of combat. She traveled the countryside with the man. She referred to him as an uncle. In the letter she asked me if it was true that I’d been traveling with you. She said the songs and tales of Jaskier the Bard traveling with the White Wolf made it to her ears.” Jaskier stopped talking for a brief moment, rummaged around his rut sack and pulled out a notebook. He untied its string and a large pile of papers fell out into his hand. He unfolded the parchment and scanned the writing.

“I wrote her back that week. Only to receive this in return.” He began to read;

“Oh dear Jaskier!! I cannot believe its true. I thought he was only a legend. The white wolf. Please tell him he is a hero here. We love his stories. Many have written books of him. Children run round calling themselves the butcher of Blaviken here to save the damsel and distress. I love his stories, mainly because they involve you. Please come visit me this year. I miss you terribly. I want to hear of your travels with the wolf. Mother said he is more than welcome to stay if he wishes to travel with you. I do miss you Jaskier. More than I think you know. I do not mean to guilt you or make you feel bad as i know you are traveling the world to your heart's content and would never want you to feel as though I do not support you-“ Jaskier stopped reading for a brief moment. A small tear dripped onto the page he was reading. Geralt listened to every word he read. He couldn't help the small tug of his lips when he read about the children pretending to be him. It was a breath of fresh air for the witcher. He had constantly been told he was a monster. To hid your children from him. Yet here was an entire country that loved him, yet he had no idea. Jaskier cleared his throat and continued. “But i miss my brother. And maybe, just maybe. I could come with you. If you deem me fit. I have been working tirelessly with a friend of fathers. He trains me in not only swordsmanship, but Herbology, and monsters as well. I can name nearly every monster that has inhabited the Continent and how to slay it. He thinks I’m ready to leave the nest and I think mother and father are getting a bit tired of me as well. I cannot stand another somber, dull, dinner party with nobles who look at me like a piece of meat. So please. Visit me soon. Come and stay a few days. Catch up with your dear sister and maybe, if he isn't too busy and if it doesn’t inconvenience him, bring the Wolf with you. He’d be a welcomed hero. All my love dear brother. Xoxo Love always, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz

Jaskier folded the letter, placing it inside his notebook before safely storing it inside his sack again. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes slowly moving from his hands to his best friend. They sat in the silence for a while. Geralt’s brain replaying the words he had heard from his friend.

“You could have told me about her Jaskier. Why didn't you? You’ve been in contact with her all this time, planning to see her and your family again. Bringing me along for the ride, yet not a single word in 7 years. Do you not trust me with such a secret Jaskier?” Jaskier was taken aback by his friend's words.

He never knew his secrecy would have such an impact on his friend. When it came to Geralt he learned long ago, the little words, the better. The witcher can only handle so much before he loses interest and stops listening or walks away. He never in a million years would have thought he cared about his life that much. It warmed the bards heart to know his dear friend, the only brother he ever had, cared that deeply for him.

“It has nothing to do with not trusting you Geralt. Is has everything to do with the shame I hold for not seeing her sooner. For treating her like a dirty secret form the world. There is no logical reason for me to keep my family such a big secret. Yet I have. For 20 years.” Geralt’s hands rubbed together softly as he listened to his friend. He understood the secrecy. He was a box full of secrets that nobody could get into.

“Its okay Jaskier. I understand the secrecy. Is that where we are going tomorrow?” Jaskier nodded, a smile appearing on his face.

“Her birthday is the next full moon. I’m hoping my gift will be a good start in time lost.” Geralt looked at him curiously. He hadn't noticed any major item in Jaskier’s possession that could make a good gift for a young princess.

“You’re her gift Geralt. I wrote her back after that letter and told her I’d be back for her next birthday. But that you simply were to busy with your work. I told her that you greatly appreciated her support and that youd consider writing to her in the future. She has no idea your coming with me.” Geralt didnt know how he felt about being a gift. He never ever saw himself as a gift to anyone. More of a burden the a gift. He shook his head at Jaskier and tutted at him.

“Jaskier if your that broke you could’ve asked me for a few extra coins for a real gift.” The witcher attempted to joke with the bard. It made Jaskier smile more. Geralt could be funny, but his humor was incredibly dry, much like Jaskier’s father.

“Geralt! Did you just try and joke around with me??” Geralt rolled his eyes, laying down stretching his muscles as he looked up at the starts.

“Best get some sleep Jaskier, you’ve got a rather big family reunion tomorrow.”

The next morning Jaskier was up and awake before Geralt, a rare sight. He truly hadn't slept more than a couple hours that night. His nerves kept him awake. He feared his sister wouldn’t be as loving as he pictured, she had every right to be mad at him, hate him even. By the time Geralt was up, Jaskier had bathed, changed and had his horse completely ready to go.

Geralt had to do everything in his power to not laugh at his friend. He looked rather ridiculous. His normal bright attire was replaced with a royals outfit. A green and blue velvet tunic and some extremely uncomfortable looking black trousers. His hair was combed back and his face was freshly washed. He even cleaned under his fingernails. He looked rather ridiculous in Geralt’s opinion. He couldn't help the low chuckle that left his lips as he put his bed roll away.

“I don't understand why you're laughing. I have some clothes for you to put on as well.” Geralt’s expression changed instantly, from humorous to angry.

“No. Absolutely not. What I’m wearing is perfectly fine. I’d wear it to meet any king or queen.” A bag was chucked at him, he barely caught it before it smacked into his face.

“This isn't any normal king and queen Geralt. This is my family. And besides, you are no ordinary witcher in my kingdom, you’ll be treated as royalty there. You may as well look the part.” Geralt huffed and threw the bag of clothes back at his friends feet, glaring daggers at him. He hated dressing up with a burning passion. Everything was too tight, not easy to fight in. If anything happened he’d have to rip the seams on every piece of clothing to be able to maneuver his weapons properly. And fancy clothes dont have space for weapons. He didn't like that one bit. Jaskier looked at his friend. His eyes pleading with him.

“Please Geralt. Just for today and her birthday. I couldn't care less what you wear at any other point on this trip.” He had walked closer to Geralt now. About a meter away from him. He extended his hand, the bag in his hand. Geralt looked from the bag to his friend. His teeth and jaw clenched.

He let out a loud huff and grabbed the bag from the bard.

“Fine.” He said through gritted teeth and began taking off his clothing. Jaskier smiled before turning his attention to Roach, getting her stalled and tacked so when Geralt was dressed they could leave.

“If we move with a bit of a haste we could make it there before breakfast.” Jaskier said as he mounted his horse, looking at his friend. His hand slapped over his face. The witcher looked utterly ridiculous in his new attire. The bright red and orange vest a-top a cream tunic, his legs tight in some disgustingly ugly corduroy pants. The pants were obviously smaller than the seamstress he bought them off claimed them to be. The ends of the pants came nearly mid calf on Geralt’s legs. His pasty white ankles and feet shining in the early morning sun.

“Jesus Geralt. Those are worse than the ones I got for Pavetta’s party.” The bard could no longer hold in his laughter. Did Gerarlt look like a nobleman? Sure, but his size, white hair, and bright yellow eyes really didn't help the situation.

“Jaskier, I will kill you for this.” Geralt grumbled angered as he pulled his socks up his feet and over his calves. Luckily for him (and Jaskier) his boots went higher than his pants, making it harder to notice that the pants he was wearing were way too small.

“At least I’m not making you wear a big hat with a feather, those are truly hideous.” Geralt mounted Roach, more carefully then he normally does in fear his pants could bust at the seams.

“I had to wrap you up nice and pretty to present you to my sister.” Jaskier commented as he led his horse; Napoleon to the main road, Geralt and Roach in tow.

The two men rode in a comfortable silence for some time, but as they got closer and closer to Jaskier’s home, all Geralt could hear was his frantic heartbeat. Jaskier’s palms get sweaty and his throat dry, no matter how much water he drinks from his water skin.

“Jaskier. You need to calm down. Your fucking heart beat is driving me insane.” Geralt hissed. They could see the end of the valley they had been traveling in. Geralt looked out in the distance, his eyes saw the castle first. It was very far, but he could tell how beautiful it was from where they were.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t listen to it then.” Jaskier barked back.

“You know I have no control over it, idiot. Take a deep breath. I know you're scared, I understand. But from the sounds of it your sister desperately misses you, I don't think she would ask you to come see her if she was going to hate you.” Geralt didn't talk much at all, that everyone knew. He was a man of few words. But when he did speak it was wiser than most people ever expected. People tended to forget the age of the white haired man, as he stopped ageing physically in his late twenties.

Jaskier smiled softly at his friend's words, he listened to him and took a few deep breaths, calling himself down. Geralt was right. His sister seemed eager as ever to see him again.

The two men approached the entrance to the city. Geralt was more than shocked. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a city so beautiful in his entire life. The streets were lined in beautiful stone, flowers, vines, greenery all around every corner. The banners that were hanging on the outside of the main gates caught Geralt’s eyes. The crests on them were brightly colored in greens and blues, a very large diamond in the center. Their horses rode into the entrance of the town. Jaskier’s heart was calm, steady, his face was bright and had a smile Geralt had never seen on him before. He was finally home.

“Welcome to Inritha (In-Rithe-A) the capital of Unthya (Un-The-A) Geralt. Welcome to my home.”

Their horses traveled down the stone brick road slowly, the city was buzzing already even with it being the early hours of the morning. Geralt was surprised to see everyone look so...happy, care free. Enjoying their lives. They looked as though nothing was a fret, no monster looming. Geralt was mesmerized by the city. The buildings were built out of what looked to him like limestone, a building material he so rarely saw in other parts of the Continent. The buildings were being taken over by vines and moss, flowers all over. He’d never seen so many butterflies in his life.

“Jaskier-'' his voice was barely a whisper, the bard turning to look at him as they rode side by side. Jaskier couldn't help but smile as his friend admired the beauty he himself had so easily forgotten over the years.

“I know, it's beautiful. I've forgotten myself.”

The two men continued riding their horses up the road closer and closer to the castle. The longer they road tho more attention they got from passer buys. Geralt could hear their whispers.

It couldn't be. Could it?

THE Geralt of Rivia? Here in Inritha?

Mummy look! It's the butcher!!

Has Prince Jaskier finally returned home?

For the first time in what seemed like his entire life, the hushed whispers Geralt heard as he rode through a city were not of hate and disgust. But of admiration and curiosity. The entire time Geralt and Jaskier rode through the city, he never once had the urge to grab either of his swords that were at his side.

The two men approached the gates of the castle, four armored guards stood outside. The put their hand up in motion for the men to stop. One who looked as tho to be the commander of sorts stepped forward poking between both men. Eyes lingering for a long while on the two.

“State your name and what business you have in Inritha at this early hour.” Jaskier dismounted his horse, waking a few feet forward.

“My name is Jaskier Alfred Pankratz son of Dastrill and Alvere Pankratz. This is my companion Geralt Of Rivia, we are here on behalf of my sister, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz’s 25th birthday.” Jaskier bowed his head lowly, keeping eye contact with the commander in front of him.

“Prince Jaskier?!?” The man clearly looked flustered and embarrassed for not recognizing the prince of his own kingdom. All four men quickly bowed their heads.

“Please accept my apology your highness, we welcome you home. As do we welcome your honored guest.” Jaskier smiled and told the men to not trouble themselves with an apology. Geralt continued to watch from atop Roach, still not use to being idolized instead of feared. Honored guest. Geralt thought to himself. He could get use to the new treatment. Jaskier remounted Napoleon the gates to the castle walls opening. The both road threw, all four men bowed their heads as the two walked threw. Not once did they threaten Geralt’s life. They were led by a guard to the stables where they left their horses.

Geralt could hear Jaskier heart beating again in his chest as they were led inside the castle. Geralt tried to concentrate on his friend, to be there for him but he couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over the castle's walls, it was a bright exterior. The walls polished, candles everywhere. Large windows allowing for natural lighting. Nothing dark or gloomy about the castle at all. He felt uplifted..cheary almost. As they neared the entrance to the grand hall where the King, Queen, Princess along with some others were. Geralt could hear the light conversation, and the clicking of silver on plates, they were eating breakfast. But he could still hear Jaskier’s heart beating in his chest. Geralt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder as they walked, giving it a soft squeeze. The action made Jaskier more worried if the witcher was feeling alright, as it was abnormally out of character for the man. But he said nothing, appreciating the gesture.

They got to the door and just as the guard was about to push the doors open Jaskier grabbed his arm.

“Could we maybe skip the loud over dramatic announcements of my arrival? I have not seen my family in years.” The guard only nodded, bowed his head and walked back outside to his post. Jaskier looked over at his friend, as he put his hand on the door ready to push it open.

“Now or never.” Jaskier said as he opened the door. Both men walked into the large room, the talking stopped almost instantly. Geralt stood at the door, not wanting to impose on the important reunion of his friend and his family. He followed Jaskiers gaze to the table ahead of them in the front of the room. The room was lined with huge floor to ceiling windows, the light of the early morning sun shone brightly making the marble floors glisten.

“JASKIER!!!” The loud scream of a girl nearly made Geralt jump out of his skin, his hand reaching back for a sword that wasn't there in instinct.

It made Jaskier jump but the smile that covered his face was even bigger than the one he had seen as he walked through the city. Geralt followed Jaskier’s gaze to a young woman. The sight of her alone made Geralt want to pass out. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. Her hair was the same chestnut brown that Jaskier had, but it was long, hip length. She had it pulled back slightly out of her face, a few baby hairs framed her face. Oh her face. Geralt thought as though he was looking at a living breathing angel. He heard her chair scrape roughly on the ground before it loudly crashed on the floor. She raced around the long table from her mothers side and sprinted to her brother. She practically threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, stumbling back a few steps. Everything was quite as the two embraced. Geralt's eyes went to the king and queen who were now standing. The queen looked just like (Y/N) but her hair was black, long stripes of grey peeking through her hair. The crown atop her head glistened in the light. Her right hand was tightly around her husband's arm, her other hand placed softly over her mouth as she looked at her children. Her husband looked much like Jaskier. His hair was the same color as both of their children, but much like his wife’s, much of it had turned grey. His eyes were the same cornflower blue that Jaskier had.

Minutes passed in silence before Jaskier put his hands on his sisters shoulders, pulling her away from him. He put one hand on her cheek as he examined her features. Her pale cheeks were damp with tears. But not sad tears. Tears of joy.

“My sister, how you’ve grown.” Geralt could hear the tears in the bard's voice. He couldn't see him but he could hear everything.

(Y/N) fingers gently brushed over her brother’s face as she smiled at him.

“My brother, how you haven't aged a day. You look just as I remember you. Maybe a few more wrinkles.” She teased. He laughed softly. Wiping his eyes with his hand before pulling her into another bone crushing embrace. She was much shorter than Jaskier, barely shoulder level with him. Geralt was shocked to remember she would be turning 25 in two days. She was still young in the face, beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to see her more up close.

While the siblings spoke their parents moved from the spots at the table, standing behind (Y/N). Alvere was the first to pull him into a tight embrace after her daughter let go. Her fingers gently combed through his hair as she inhaled his scent deeply.

“My dear son how I've missed you.” She whispers slowly into his ear. Geralt was starting to feel bad for eavesdropping. Not that he could help it. He was still standing at the entrance to the grand hall yet he could hear everything.

Jaskiers father hugged him next, it was not nearly as long as the outer two but both men were okay with it. Understanding that their relationship had never been one for long father son hugs.

“It is good to see you again my boy.” His hand clasped down on his son's shoulder.

The four of them stood close together, smiling more than Geralt ever thought possible. It almost made his heart turn. Deep, deep, deep, down the witcher longed for a family that would look at him the way they looked at Jaskier. He often cured the universe for not giving him an option when it came to what he had become. He clung to the few memories he had of his mother. But as years passed they became harder and harder to remember, more painful. But he had. Made a new sort of family over the years. From Jaskier, to his brothers at Kaer Morhen.

“(Y/N), mum, dad, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” Jaskier turned his head towards the door to the hall. Geralt stood tall, shoulders pressed back, his hair framed his face gracefully. Even in the entirely ugly attire he was in, he made himself as presentable and as proper as possible. (Y/N)’s eyes grew bigger when her eyes met his. He once again was taken aback by her beauty. Her eyes were a powerful emerald green matching similarly to the color of her brother's tunic, but brighter. Her mouth fell slightly agape when she realized who it was. The eyes were a dead give away that he was in fact a witcher, but once she saw the silver medallion that rested on his chest, she knew.

Jaskier nodded his head for Geralt to walk forward and he did, his footsteps were light, his pace slow and steady as he walked closer to the royal family. (Y/N)’s hand gently covered her mouth in excitement. Her eyes flickering to her brother who grinned at her.

“A bit of an early birthday gift.” He winked. Once Geralt was closer to the group Jaskier turned so he could introduce them, at his sister's side. All eyes were on him. Even the few people who were still seated at the table were looking at him. He started to feel a bit more uneasy. He started to remember how far away his swords were if he needed them. This alone was beginning to make him panic. He was not used to being welcomed into royal courts unless it was specifically for a hunt.

“This is Geralt of Rivia, one of the most feared, renowned, and skilled Witcher’s the content has to offer. And also my best friend.”

Geralt's eyes were back on (Y/N)’s, his worries dropped more when she smiled brightly at him. Her eyes gleamed.

Geralt bowed his head to the three of them, “ it is an absolute pleasure to meet you, your highnesses.” (Y/N) was nearly blown over by the sultry sound of his voice. She had only heard stories of the witcher. Never see him for herself and definitely had never heard him speak. She never expected a monster hunter to be as handsome as he was. She admired every feature he had. Her eyes fixating on his chiseled jawline, the light gray stubble across his chin and cheeks.

“My, what a pleasure it is to meet such a famed warrior as yourself Geralt!” The king spoke before (Y/N) could, which she was happy about as she did not trust her voice to not waver at his beauty in that moment.

“You my dear are very popular around here. Your stories are legendary. The school children even host yearly plays, Reenacting your most beloved stories.” (Y/N)’s mother added her finger pointing light hardly at Geralt. Her hand came out gracefully from her side to shake the Witcher’s hand. He gently took it, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His attention returned to (Y/N).

“I’m terribly sorry I’m the birthday gift from your brother this year.” She shook her head almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Do not be sorry Geralt-'' the way she said his name made him feel as though he could keel over. “I would like to thank you, for protecting my brother for the years you have. He never skips on his gratitude for you in his letter to me. For that we are all eternally grateful for you.” She reached her hand out. Geralt wasted no time in grabbing her hand, shaking it gently. He was dying inside, but he couldn't let her or anyone else see. He took a gentle step towards her, his head lowering softly, his soft lips were placed on the back of her small hand. The small action made the young girls' faces burn red. Her eyes flicked to her brother who smugly smiled, knowing danm well his gift was going to take the cake.

“Well, you both should come join us, we just started eating.” The king said with a smile, with a quick wave of his hand two more places we set.

(Y/N) gently removed her hand from Geralt’s. Walking towards the table, both men in tow. As she reached her spot she moved her plate and glass to the middle seat that had been prepared, leaving Jaskier a seat next to their mother and Geralt a seat next to her. They all sat and waited as food was served to them. (Y/N) could feel Geralt watching her as she ate, her brother deep in conversation with her parents about his most recent travels. But she wasnt listening. Her attention was only on the man seated to her left. She looked over at the man, eyed him up and down then turned to her brother. For the first time she noticed how ugly their attire was.

“Gods Jaskier who dressed you two?” She asked as she sipped her orange juice. Both men looked at her. Jaskier looked a bit hurt and Geralt only snorted.

“I told him the clothes were horrendous.” Geralt said beside the young woman making her giggle. The sound made his heart beat faster. This was also when he realized how sensibly everyone else in the room was dressed, and how much they stood out. (Y/N) was in a thin white cotton dress, it was around knee length and a light sweater was on her shoulders. Her mother and father dressed similarly. Their clothes looking normal, comfortable.

“Oh my dear brother. What have you done to the poor witcher.” She laughed, turning her attention to him. She could see how uncomfortable the clothes made him. The vest was way too tight and he was practically bursting out of his pants, not that she minded, she gladly enjoyed the view.

“He is torturing me. That's what.” Geralt scoffed and she couldn't help but giggle again.

“You're so dramatic Geralt it's truly not that bad.” Her head flicked to her brother.

“Jaskier don't be rude.” She tutted him like a mother, it made Geralt snort under his breath as he took a bite of his eggs. She stood and walked behind him. He was stiff at her movements.

“Do you mind?” Her fingers were on the strings of the vest. He shook his head no and she quickly untied the tight strings, and it fell from his shoulders. She took it off and handed it to one of the maids

“You can burn that horridly ugly thing.” She said as she sat back down.

“I do not remember you being so rude, little sister.” Jaskier quipped.

“What I think is rude is how you made sure you got the more presentable clothing and dressed your poor friend in those horrendous colors. Have you seen his pants, Jaskier?? It's a miracle he can still breath.” Her eyes looked towards the witcher who was already looking at her with a cocky smirk on his face, glad she was putting Jaskier in his place for the ugly outfit choice.

“I can take you to the seamstress later today, if you’d like Geralt.” Her smile was like a drug.

“I’d appreciate that m'lady.” He said softly.

“And I can show you around the city, both of you. But in return I would like to hear some of your stories, first hand if that’s doable.”

“That sounds like a reasonable trade.” Geralt quipped back.

“Then it's a date, Witcher.”

“A date it is.”

450 notes · View notes

byorder-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

How They Look After You When it Gets Bad: Bonnie

Preference Masterlist

Requested by anonymous

Word count: 1727

Warnings: Reader going through a hard time, suggestive comments, swearing, Bonnie gets hurt (emotionally), not favourable descriptions of Small Heath (apologies to any Brummie readers- it’s for the plot)

Author's Note: Hi! I’ve had some trouble with the Ada and Finn preferences so I’m mixing up the order a bit. Those who’ve requested, your fics will be out soon! If there’s any other characters you want me to write for, feel free to make any more requests. Hope you enjoy and I’m wishing you all my best

(Gif by @sophieshelby)

The Golds were travellers. It's what you loved the most about their life, the life that you jumped into in the greatest leap of faith that came with loving Bonnie. Now, whilst watching him ditch button-ups in favour of short vests, giving you full view of his lean arms attacking bags and people with so much strength was fun, it was the wind in your hair as you sat behind him on his horse, arms wrapped around his middle, it was huddling up in your shared bed in the caravan and arguing as to whether or not you could fit another ugly knitted blanket on top of the rest of them, and the maps you kept in a drawer that was slowly becoming more crosses than roads with all the places you've visited- it was that which made you love this life all the more. Plus, living with you Bonnie and his family (who had welcomed you with open arms the second Bonnie introduced you) created a second home, a home that lived on wheels and trotted down dirt paths. You knew that Bonnie getting his boxing licence would make the travelling come to a halt, and Small Heath would have to be home for as long as there was a job to be done and a reward to be reaped. And you were okay with that. You really were. Maybe there were a few tears as you hugged Esmerelda, Naomie and especially little Floss (she was desperate to see Bonnie go head to head with the Peaky Blinders!) goodbye as they continued travelling, you knew Bonnie felt the absence of his sisters more than you would. So, you made sure he never felt lonely, and the bed never felt empty; well, it wasn't as if it was a particularly difficult task to keep him company.

Small Heath was not a particularly enthralling place. Although you were on friendly terms with the Shelbys and their clan (and that was no exaggeration, they multiplied like rabbits!) and, after many, many threats from both the elder and younger Gold, none of the younger Peakys were planning on making a move on you, it was the place itself that seemed to bore you. All those things that you'd learned to love from your life on the road- the fresh air, the constant movement, the friendly welcomes when you saw another caravan cross your path, and the freshly caught food cooked over an open fire- there was none of that here. The sky was full of fumes that burnt more than the dark char of over-exposed meat, there was no patches of grass or flowers and everything was so fucking grey. Grey streets, grey sky, and a very grey mood for you. Sometimes, when Bonnie and Aberama were busy with the Peaky business that they left you out of, you'd just go over to the Cut and sit by the water to get even the slightest feeling of being back amongst the rivers and streams where you and Bonnie would set a number of ugly knitted blankets down and spend the night besides. You always thought the sound of water, and the view of the stars was the best way to fall asleep. Bonnie said the best way was next to you. You loved him, you truly did, but things were getting hard. Bonnie was always so busy now, between boxing and whatever the hell Tommy bloody Shelby had him apart of. Wrapped up next to him under all the blankets was the most time you spent with him, and he was usually so spent from work that he was snoring after seconds of laying his head on the pillow. All you could do was hope he didn't wake as you breathed softly next to him, trying to ward off sleep as much as you can just to see him as much as you can. By the time the sun rose, he was already up and at it. In stinking Small Heath.

You didn't want to resent him for bringing you here. You wanted to be proud of him when he boasted about getting his boxing license. You wanted to be happy for him when he came back, completely sloshed, after a night out at the Garrison with the Peaky boys he'd gotten close to, and he smelt like bloody whiskey and cigarettes when he cuddled up to you, drunkenly nuzzling his nose into your neck. You hated whiskey and cigarettes. Well, at least you think you did. You hated everything right now. You had tried to distract yourself from this frustration that was slowly building up in you, especially after you 'accidentally' broke one of the cups Naomie had made. You would pay for that when you saw her again. You had gotten Charlie Strong and Curly's permission to help with the horses in the stables. Eventually, though, you just felt sorry for the poor buggers: trapped in a scrap yard in a place full of people and so little greenery. Of course, you refused to admit you were projecting your own feelings on them. After feeling lonely for too long, you decided to make friends with the Shelbys. The Peaky boys that Bonnie had become fast friends with were nice enough, and Bonnie was happy for the excuse to see you more. As for the Shelbys, you had to be honest, they were a bit bloody scary. Esmerelda had made sure you were prepared for them, and you kept a whittling knife on your person every time you left the isolating sanctuary of the caravan, so you knew full well you could keep yourself safe amongst the blood and gore of the gangsters.

Eventually though these feelings caught up with you. You didn't even bother leaving the caravan today, knowing the streets were only going to further sour your mood and, even the bright presence of Bonnie's sleepy, half-awake smile, couldn't stop your erratic scrubbing of the plates. Ever since the Naoime's-broken-pottery-you were-sure-to-pay-for incident, you had only been entrusted with the metal pots and pans that weren't so easy to shatter. Still, you managed to scrub the metal dish in such a way to rouse the weary boxer. He had the day off, as Arthur had told you the night before when you sat in the Garrison, and the rest of the boys gave such a cheer their whiskey splattered on your dress. Bonnie had blushed, but you could see the hints of mischief in his smirk. And, with Aberama taking last night and today back in Small Heath, there was no misunderstanding Bonnie's intentions. You heard his stumbling foot steps as you moved further out of the open caravan door, focusing far too much on the washcloth and the practically sparkling pot that you still scrubbed.

"Hey, dove," he said in sing-song tone that usually made your heart melt. Now it made your blood boil.

"Mornin' Bon," you replied back, far too snappy for his soft voice.

He was startled. You didn't have to see his face to know he had flinched, feeling the sudden twinge of pain in the air like a broken string.

"Are you alright?" He asked, kindly, reaching down to rest his hand over yours. Instantly, you dropped the pan and cloth on the floor, hearing it crash against the soft grass.

"Well, you'd know if you'd have been there!" Along with your swift movement to stand up, the fierceness in your voice made Bonnie back away into the caravan. He saw the frustration clear in your face, and his shoulders hung in shame. He knew he'd been busy- too busy- and it must've hurt you.

"I'm so sorry, dove, I swear I'm trying to do this for us."

"For you! And all I fucking do is stay in this fucking city!"

"It's not for long- then we can have that life we planned, with the boxing licence and our own caravan and-"

"And I don't wanna be here!"

You screamed it so loud that you were sure the birds in the trees surrounding you had flapped away from your voice like a shot had been fired from one of the Golds' many, many guns. And Bonnie seemed like he wanted to flee too, face so smushed up and hurt.

"I hate this place! It's dirty and cold and it smells like fucking shit!"

Bonnie felt his whole body crumble at the tightness in your face, the look of pure anger making your fists squeeze in so tight he knew your nails would be digging in. He was the boxer and it was of his opinion that you should never have to raise a fist like this. You must hate him. You must do, and he was feeling his broad shoulders dip at the wildness that flickered in your eyes.

"I don't want to be here!" It was the crack in your voice that revealed yourself. A crack that mended Bonnie's wounded expression into that of concern. You didn't hate him. You didn't. You probably didn't even mind stinking old Small Heath.

"Then how about we get outta here?" He suggested, giving you that lopsided grin that always made you childishly giddy. Even now, with frustration embedding your palms, you felt a kinder warmth flood to your cheeks. With more confidence, he moved towards you, cupping your cheek as you felt yourself just drop a little without the weight of frustration on your shoulders.

"Please," you muttered, leaning forward to rest your forehead against yours. "I want fresh air and empty fields and a blanket next to a stream."

"Just you and me lying down and looking at the stars?"

"That's all, Bon."

"Then you'll get it. Let's get changed, pack some food and we can get on a horse and just keep on riding, ey?" You chuckled a little at his romantic proposition, burying yourself closing into his grasp. "And get out of smelly old Small Heath that's been keeping me away from my dove."

"You're gonna have a lot of time to make up for." A little bit of frustration still hung in your mind, but the sweet look of adoration on your Bonnie's face was enough to soothe it into a cheeky remark.

"Indeed I do," he whispered into your neck. His expression got sadder again. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

#bonnie gold #bonnie gold x reader #bonnie gold imagine #bonnie gold fanfiction #bonnie gold fanfic #bonnie gold preference #bonnie gold fluff #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders preference #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders oc #Aberama Gold #tommy shelby #Arthur shelby

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berryblissbby · 3 years ago

Text

Fiercest; devoted;

Pairing: Princess!reader x Guard/Warrior! Hajime Iwaizumi

Word Count: 9,500

Warnings: Use of blades and knives

A/N: Sooo this is the longest thing I've ever posted on tumblr and one of the longest fics I've ever written. Ive only even written a handful of things to completion before so please be kind (⩾﹏⩽). I'm currently reading TOG and this story was born from me trying to process HOF so if you see some parallels just look away! This is fanfic we borrow, not steal. And finally I must say, must I write a plot? Can’t they just learn to tenderly love each other in the end?

AND! AND! Here's the pinterest board i made for this fic, i'm so sorry that all the references are white people omg, pinterest has shit diversity.

Summary:

The moonlight won’t let you forget, the sunlight brightens the truth.

You are his princess, and he is your warrior. Raised together Hajime is your greatest source of comfort when he suddenly pulls away, igniting your temper and flaring animosity towards each other. Either under the light of the moon, or the rays of the sun, you’ll fight it out, just like always.

You were the princess of an empire. Heir of the kingdom that was the pinnacle of learning, healing and safety for anyone who wished to stay there. Books, music, and art were all treasured, and culture was allowed to thrive and breathe. Your court was beloved, held strong by devotion and loyalty, “the strongest court in the world” the people said. You were loved as well, by your parents and their people. Adored, you were their future.

Hajime was a lesser by his kingdom's terms. In a kingdom of magic wielders, he was unwanted nobility. So he was sent to you, to your kingdom, where compared to your human court, with a little magical blood in him, he would be strong. He was to be your guard, to keep you safe, and when you were ready to rule your bond would be unbreakable.

You were nine and he was thirteen . Delightfully shy- to adults- you lacked true friends. Hiding behind your mother, father or nursemaid, you could be found with your nose in a book. Even at celebrations it was the same, unless you convinced your mother or father to dance with you, much to everyone’s joy.

But then you had Hajime, and even though you were scared, with red rung hands and shifting eyes, he danced with you. Uncoordinated and silly, gentle smiles turning to grins and grins to giggles, you landed on the floor in a heap of laughter. Everyone could tell- when you were with him your timidness melts, and is met with ferocious quips and laughter full of love- that you would grow to be a shining queen. You didn’t worry, your child princess self, because when you were sat on your heaviest burden, your own little throne, he would be behind you. With his chest puffed up, his daggers sharpened and shining. Already your fiercest warrior and most devoted protector.

You grew together, his dark eyes were always watching you, blanketing you in warmth. When you learned how to fight and hold a dagger correctly he practiced with you, until your coordination and form were perfect. When you were strong enough for a sword he was right there as well, much to the captain of the guards dismay. You practiced together, but he never let you win. It was infuriating, his determined expression and unrelenting jabs. But “it’s for your own good” and you knew you'd best him one day.

He snuck into your room, when your chambers were too big, and the darknesses fingers too long. He stayed in the chair in the corner, and listened to you talk until your words slurred and you fell asleep. Your maids usually find him still there, curled up, in the morning.

He was right beside you when you learned how to ride a horse by yourself at ten years old, with shaky hands and gasping breaths. And when you fell off- the one and only time- he picked you right off the ground, dusted off your dress, and growled at the stable master.

He wiped the tears off your face as fast as they fell. Your little hands gripping the front of his shirt begging him not to leave.

Hajime pulled you to his chest, shushing you again. It was awkward, just two little kids clinging to each other, one barely old enough to comfort the other. But you needed him nonetheless.

He was right there the day you got it, hanging off the rails of the round pin, pumping his fist in triumph as you and your horse trotted in circles.

Looking over, a grin breaking across your face, you met his own grin. It sent shivers down your spine, blooming in your tummy. You could see it, with that feral grin on his face, you understood what type of man he would be. He truly was a warrior.

He stood behind you when you first attended state meetings with your father, against the wall with the other guards. You had been terrified. You hadn’t known, really, what they were talking about, and you had been scared that they would ask you questions you wouldn’t know the answer to. But Hajime was there, and that made your words a little more steady.

He was eighteen and you fourteen, budding into adolescence, and it seemed to be everyone’s business. He was turning into a man and you couldn’t help but notice, not that you would ever speak of it.

He was leading you horse, walking you around the gardens. He liked to pick and choose when you should be treated as a princess. With swords in your hands he tended to ignore it, but at times like these, you were an heiress and he was an indentured servant.

“I don’t understand”

“It’s a tragedy, it's supposed to make you sad!” You say. “It’s about the ‘what if’s’ and the yearning, you have to focus on the yearning.” You giggle at your words, as you drag out your syllables.

You were telling him about your latest book, and how it had left you heart broken for the two lovers. With bad timing, and greedy people stealing their chances at love, they could never be together.

You always told Hajime about your books, you couldn’t help talking about the ones that you couldn’t get out of your head. He was an amazing listener, and you appreciated him dearly for it. Even though his face would remain blank and his eyes would shift all around you, looking for threats, he would always pay attention.

He scoffed. “ Well, what if I don’t care about yearning, what if they’re just stupid? The answer was right in front of them.”

“That’s not the point Hajime,” you pout.

He scowls up at you, stopping your horse.

“What?” You can’t help but laugh at both of your dramatics.

“Just don’t let me catch you doing anything dumb like that,” he doesn’t let you answer, starting your horse walking again. ¨Idiots.¨

¨Hajime!¨

You appreciate him, in every sense, always protecting you, in body and soul.

He was twenty and you sixteen. Your temper was epic, it shook the stone walls and snapped as easily as the ribbons on your dresses. But your heart was just as easily broken. You were a slave to your emotions and you could feel it, festering in you. You would never let it show to the court, but your family knew, and so did Hajime. There was little left of the girl who used to hide behind skirts.

You didn´t know if it was a gradual process, or if you woke up to it one day, but suddenly you couldn´t stop watching him. You couldn´t stop admiring him. He was so big, and strong, and he made you laugh so hard. His hands were soft, and large. He was smart, catching things you hadn’t in meetings, and his voice would send shivers down your spine when he whispered in your ear, telling you things about the people you were surrounded by. Things that he had learned to keep you safe; precautions. You couldn't stop your cheeks from heating up anymore, they were perpetually flushed, and it was impossible to hold his gaze. Things that wouldn't have mattered before made you stutter. But what set you off, was when you would look up to him, when you expected to meet those cool eyes, they would be somewhere else.

Before, when you had been upset, you would drag Hajime to the training rooms and throw him a sword. He would let you get a few hits in, before winning, of course. But only after you got everything you needed out. He was the cool water to your raging disposition. He had a sternness to him now, even though his fiery character could rival yours sometimes, he knew when to hold back. And when he did, his easy answers and cool voice were equally frustrating as they were calming. You shared more together while in those practice rooms swinging swords than anywhere else. But now you had lost the thing that had made it better.

Now you only saw him when mandatory, behind your throne and next to you at meals. He seemed to be more interested in the guards and other warriors than you, so you ate in silence and read alone at night. You eventually requested a new guard, and your parents said no. You two were friends, and he was sent here for you, that would not be changing overnight. But he didn't feel like your Hajime anymore, your friend or defender. Because he wasn't paying attention to you anymore, not like he was supposed to. Or how you wanted him too.

It made you burn when you looked up and he wasn't looking at you. The embers in your chest that would flare when you didn't get your way, when someone disagreed with you, when Hajime said something brash, were a roaring fire. You didn't understand why things had changed, where it had come from.

You saw it, when his eyes met the older courtiers- well, older compared to you. You saw the eyes of the women on him, how they trailed over his broad back and strong arms. You knew that the lady’s had started taking their walks through the section of the palace they had previously thought of as unpalatable. They would bat their eyelashes and fan their fans in front of them as they walked past the training rooms, hoping to catch Hajime in only a thin damp shirt. It was infuriating.

You took to ignoring him, long lonely months. It was intense, the war between you both, silently throwing glances at each other, both sets of eyes holding promises of worse words to come. He was a weight behind you at all times, dragging your heart deeper into a pit of solitary despair. He left you whenever he could afford, never letting your parents or the other guards see. You were kept safe, but it wasn’t comforting like before. The walks to your rooms after dinner were the worst, the internal battle inside you was tearing you to shreds. Should you talk to him? Confront him? Bear a dagger and rough it out? But he would leave you by your door and walk away before you could decide anything at all.

You had burned too bright, the fire in you now gone. The fury that had kept you warm was nothing but a cold pit in your chest.

You were all alone, every day that knowledge split you open like a cold blade. You were determined to stay away from him, to not bother him, since he obviously didn’t want anything to do with you. But one day, it all became too much.

You had attended a dinner tonight, with a distant royal family. And they had said things to you that they had no right to say. They had spoken as if they had known you. They knew things about you that made your skin crawl. All of those things were somewhat common knowledge, but then they had started making assumptions about you, asking you things that if you were a queen you would have known the answers to. But you weren’t, you were a stupid little princess, with no one. And you felt so small.

The only thing that made it worse was when you realized you were bracing for something. After every one of their comments, you were waiting for one of Hajime's raging blows. For him let his temper go, just a little. To tell them how it was, to defend you. But it didn’t come, you looked over and he wasn’t paying attention. What happened to your warrior? Your watcher? Your protector?

You remembered a conversation between you and Hajime, before. It was late at night, Hajime was laying on the rug in front of your heart, his arm thrown over his eyes. Your book set to the side.

The candles had all burned low, but the fire stood strong. It casted a blood orange glow across half of his body, the other half a stark blue. You didn’t know if he was asleep, and took your time admiring him.

The side away from you, from your vantage point lounging on the couch, was flushed. His mouth was pulled down slightly, but it didn’t scare you. That looked like you’re Hajime, with sharp teeth and a barking laugh. Who felt everything thrown at him.

You didn’t know how he hid it so well, but he really did experience everything; he might conceal it, but it was in there.

You looked at the other side of him, the one in a cold blue light from the moon coming in your windows. You wondered if that was what other people saw, the straight backed man, who knew who he was and what he stood for.

You said his name gently, he grunted in response.

“Do you remember… that tragedy I read years ago, about the two lovers…” you explained a little more, trailing off.

He took a deep breath saying, “ yes, with the idiots.”

You don’t bother hiding your pursed lips before you say, “what… what would you do in their situation, since they’re such idiots.” You pluck at a thread on the couch, not looking at him.

From your peripheral vision you could see him turn his head to look at the flames, and suddenly a wave of anxiety hits you, you're scared to know his real answer, his honest one.

You get up and walk to the window, and the stark difference in temperature makes you shudder. It was starting to snow, just barely. The moon was so bright, causing the gardens below your window to glow. The marble walkways mirroring back the moon.

“I would…” you look back at him, with a hand still on the window sill, and almost gasp. “I would run too, because I wouldn’t know any better, just like them.” He had sat up and turned away from the fire, his whole front blue and cold.

You couldn’t stand the window anymore, and went to sit by the hearth.

You think he’s run. He’s carried himself as far away from you as he can without abandoning his responsibilities. The gap between you is the largest thing you have ever felt. A dark ravine, and on the other side was him, with his back turned to you. Everything is blue, the moon won’t let you forget, it refuses to shroud out the light, so you can’t remain ignorant. You hate it. And every day, you come closer and closer to falling into that deep crack in the earth, reaching out your arms, stretching your fingers, feeling the rocks shift under your feet, pebbles falling into the dark pit, maybe to never hit the bottom.

You couldn’t calm yourself even hours later, your mind would go back to dinner when you tried to read, and you couldn’t sleep. Sometimes, when it was too late to brandish swords or you were too young to hold one, Hajime and you would walk the palace halls. Running from guards not to be caught, jumping on chairs in forgotten sitting rooms, daring each other to grab things from the kitchen. All before putting his grumpy cool mask back on and escorting you back to your rooms. But you never dared walk the halls yourself, you were always too scared. Hajime... Hajime, he would always take you, and make you feel better.

You had been pacing your rooms, trying to find a way to fix your hurt. Trying to come up with any solution. Sitting down on your bed, you put your head in your hands, pleading with the tears not to fall. You wanted him to make you feel better again, you wanted to feel safe with him behind you, not cold and unwanted.

You didn't know what to do, really, you told yourself as you snuck your way into his rooms, holding your breath the whole way there, still scared. Closing the door behind you you leaned against it, and for a moment, it felt like before. He smelled the same and the room was so warm it made you shiver in satisfaction. But he was a warrior, so your moment of peace didn’t last long as he rolled over, almost reaching for a weapon before he realized who you were.

You tried smiling, but seeing him like that, with his dark hair messy, and cheeks ruddy from sleep just hurt you more. You couldn’t stop the quiver in your lip.

“You've been crying,” he said, pushing himself off the bed slightly. You tried not to watch the blanket fall off his shoulders.

Nodding, you turn your head, wiping away tears with your wrist, not looking him in the eyes. You took a moment, trying to calm yourself and almost took a step towards him, but you caught yourself. That made the tears come faster. If things had been like before, you would have ran to him. You won't have hesitated, you wouldn't be bracing for something foul to come out of his mouth.

But those things didn't matter, not when he finally sat up and opened his arms letting you throw yourself at him.

He rocked you back and forth, pulling you onto his lap, cooing at you. “What’s wrong, what’s the matter my princess.” The vibrato in his voice echoed through you, made you want to melt, but it was also painfully familiar.

His kind words only made you cry harder. How long had it been since you had heard him speak to you at all? And it had to have been even longer since he had been kind to you like this, only reserved for when you were totally alone, and desperately in need.

There was so much wrong, but you could only find it in yourself to shrug. He let out a scoff. Pulling you back, you tried to hide your face, but he grabbed your chin to make you look up. He swiped a thumb under your eye, catching a falling tear. You almost smiled at his frown, how you had missed it, when it only promised light scolding, not cruel disregard.

“I j-just... want you t-to m-make me feel better,” the last word comes out in another desperate sob and he pulled you to him again.

He hummed saying, “Don't tell me someone did this to you.”

You shake your head, burying your face in his chest. You didn't want to face the truth, that he had been so neglectful that he really hadn't seen what had happened at dinner.

“Let's get you to bed, okay?”

You desperately nod, you had missed this so much. You had missed his kindness so much. You almost felt like little kids again, and he led you through the dim hallways clutching your hand. Like when you had first met.

You woke up alone.

Cold, sober reality washed over you like water, slithering down your spine. Oh. Things were not back to before. You hated Before, it taunted you. It laughed at you as you broke each time the word crossed your mind. Before was better, the most shining and brilliant version of what you had lost.

He was escorting you across the castle, and you battled with yourself again. Just like always but worse, now that you knew he was still in there. The contrast ached more. You almost didn't say anything, but you passed by a set of windows and happened to look outside.

It was spring, almost summer, and everything was green again. The hills outside rippled as the green grass swayed. Beyond the grass were wildflowers. You wish you and Hajime could ride out there and lay in them. But you couldn't- or, he wouldn’t.

That makes you stop for some reason, and you walk up to the window looking out. He stops too, remaining behind you.

“Hajime,” You say quietly. He doesn't say anything, facing forward.

He wouldn’t look at you. He refused until you grabbed him as hard as you could with your little hands, not holding back when your nails dug into his wrist and forearm.

He tried pulling back, but you wouldn’t let him. Grabbing one of your wrists he made you yield.

“I’m not... we’re not going to talk about this, not yet,” he said the words with shifting eyes, not able to meet yours for too long. “I can’t.”

You had never minded him when he was his serious self, because you would always see the loving side of him eventually. When you were alone, when it mattered. But this, the firm cold shoulder, it wasn’t the protective one you were used to, it was cruel.

“Well,” you spit out, ripping your wrist from his grip, “ when you can finally tell me your secret, it better be important, because right now I don’t appreciate being ignored- ignored and...” you struggled to find the right words, your chin quivering, eyes filling with tears. Unloved? Unprotected?

“Whatever this is,” you gesture at him, the venom in your voice dissipating with each syllable. Until each blink yielded more tears.

¨You´re dismissed,¨ you tell him, you could make it to tea just fine by yourself.

You were furious, angry, livid. The only thing that dosed the ever flaming embers in your chest was the announcement your father made. You had known it was coming, but him telling everyone solidified it.

He had called you and Hajime to his private rooms a few nights before, you two had met in front of the door.

You were to decide which member of your court would take the oath to be your protector and advisor. Everyone knew it was going to be Hajime, but sometimes a ruler didn't have such loyal followers, and they would choose from a selection. But your father wanted to follow tradition and tell you properly. You had come of age, it would be time for you to take up more responsibility, and this was the first step.

You could feel him standing next to you, facing your father and mother where they sat. The emers in you were doused, replaced by a rush of freezing water that contrasted your hot tears. You couldn't imagine spending the rest of your life like this. You would be a horrible queen if this was the future that awaited you.

Before he made his oath to you, there was to be your birthday celebration. A frantic day of eating, receiving gifts and dancing. Who would you dance with?

Tight lipped, you thanked your parents and walked out. You could hear Hajime behind you, and you didn't try to quiet your ragged breathing as the tears flowed.

They had threatened to fall when your father stood up at dinner and told your court.

It was your birthday, you hadn't danced with Hajime, and you always danced with Hajime. Everytime you could, you let your face relax and your smile melted away. You were exhausted. But someone asked you to dance.

The man no older than Hajime, with fluffy brown hair and beautiful brown eyes, asked you with a hypnotizing smile. He spun you around and said the most outrageous things in your ears, you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face.

You would pass a couple and he would share their most treacherous secrets. Nothing too bad, just outlandish enough that you would blush and want to hit him- only lightly.

He asked you again and again, until you finally had to say no, your face was hot, your skin was covered in a layer of perspiration and you were sure that your hair had fallen out of its updo.

You made your way back to your seat on the dais, next to your parents. You didn't realize that Hajime had moved from his spot on the wall, blending in with the other guards, to stand behind you.

Taking a seat, you hear a scoff. Straightening your back you almost don't believe it. Maybe it was the exercise, or the fact that you were feeling loose after laughing so hard. Or maybe it was because you were actually having fun, but you found that tonight- tonight you had energy.

You could feel it in your chest, that scoff has blown a harsh wind over those embers, fanning them a glowing orange.

“Yes, Hajime,” you say, slightly turning your head in his direction. You tried to keep your tone light.

He grunted, not saying anything. You place your hands in your lap. He won't even give you words.

“Tell me,” you say, face blank, friendly tone gone.

“Nothing, Princess.”

How dare he scoff at you and pretend you were the crazy one.

You spun in your seat. There he was, in his nice uniform, with your kingdom's mascot and colors. Your mascot and colors. Your kingdom's mascot and colors. The kingdoms that you would rule, mascot and colors.

The blades strapped around him were intricate; polished and shrap. He looked straight forward, not acknowledging you. He looks good, something inside of your chest whispered, but was whisked away as your eyes caught on the dagger on his belt, with the same color jews as his uniform

You stood up in a flurry, so fast that he only had time to brace himself before you were grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your level. Nails digging into him all the while.

“Follow me,” you say through gritted teeth. Pulling back looking him in the eyes, you tell him exactly what he needed to know. It was an order, an order from his future ruler. The exchange was so fast you knew no one would see it.

Spinning on your heel you walked down the dais and straight into the crowd of dancing people as they desperately tried to not step on you.

“Princess,” Your father said from his seat behind you. You knew he was objecting at your rudeness, but you didn't care, the act of disobedience spurring you on. You hear the music halt, only for a second, but you keep moving.

You could feel everyone's eyes on you as you made your way further and further towards the doors out of the hall. Each breath wasn’t enough oxygen, and your vision spotted, but the chills rippling over your skin were addicting.

You knew Hajime was behind you.

You didn't answer any of his furious remarks as you grabbed his forearm, dragging him through the palace. You turned down a certain hall and he stopped talking.

You threw open the doors of the practice hall, letting go of Hajime’s arm. Marching down the long open space, so big it could probably hold dozens of bodies, you open one of the cabinets across from the row of tall windows. The room was dim, and you don´t think of lighting candles.

Selecting two swords, you slide one to him across the floor, to where he stood still at the door. He stopped it carefully with his boot, as it spun towards him.

Looking up from the sword, he says, ”No.”

“Pick up the sword, Hajime,” You say from across the room, sword in your hand. You’re not sure why you threw it at him, he already had one on his hip. Maybe because it was unfair, that he could always have one and you could not.

He scoffed at you, leaving it on the ground.

“Pick it up,” You growled.

He didn't have time to roll his eyes before the twin dagger to the one on his belt landed in the door frame, next to his head.

You watched his eyes flick to your hand, smoothing out your skirts, hiding the slit that led to your thigh. You switched your sword back to your dominant hand, breathing already ragged, not looking away from those sharp eyes as he picked the sword off the ground.

You stayed exactly where you were as he walked towards you.

“You are b-”

“I don't want to hear any of what you have to say about my behavior.”

He rolled his eyes, stopping in front of you, getting into his proper stance. You mimicked him.

“You are being a brat.”

You swing for him, and he easily blocks, sending your sword arcing through the air, still in your hand. He sends a shallow jab at you, which you take a step back from.

“What right do you have judging the people I spend my time with?” You say, jabbing right back at him, which he blocks with a sweep of his sword. “And when am I not?”

You go for his left, which he dodges, and as he came around spinning to face you again, he swung low at the wide skirts of your dress. You hear it rip and feel the cold air hit your calves. Taking two steps back he observes you, lowering his sword, intentions clear.

He thought that would end your little fight.

He thought that the ruining of your dress would make you stop, that you were shallow enough to ask for his mercy just because of a tear in your skirts. It made you furious, knowing he wasn't taking this seriously.

You feint lunging at him, he swung from the right, and you blocked, swords suspended in the air for just a moment.

“Stop it.” You say, voice almost a whisper.

You grunt and pull back. Circling each other, you watch as the moonlight brightens his face. The circling continues, and no words are exchanged, giving you time to think about what had been said, only making you more upset.

You had faults, in moments like these, you couldn't hide your next move, anger making you just want to act. You swing at him, and he blocks. While your sword is up, he takes the chance to roll, and shove you backwards away from him. A dirty trick.

“Stop what?” He says to you, looking at you from where you had stumbled a few steps away, face blank.

You looked at him, with his back to the windows, face shrouded in darkness, and you hated him.

Before you could think about it, before you could flinch and regret your actions, your arms were arching up, throwing your sword across the room. Watching as Hajime involuntarily followed its arch through the air, sinning blade spinning over handle, until it landed in a clatter. You watched him all the while, and saw his shocked expression before he could hide it.

“I am your princess,” You growl, his head snapping back to you.

“I am your princess!” You yell, taking a step towards him, chest pressed to his.

“I am your Princess!” You scream, shoving him backwards toward the large windows.

You pressed against him, leaning him back against the window sill. You stretch to your tiptoes, your hands clutching his shirt as you stare into his eyes. With all the venom you can manage, panting, you say, “I am your princess! I am your princess and you will do as I say!”

“What are you doing?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. You barely hear his words, or his sword clatter to the ground, your breathing too ragged, your heart beat too loud. You could feel it, in every part of your body, it echoed through you.

And in that moment you can almost see him. That flash in his eyes, that tone of voice, his breath fanning over your face. He was your Hajime, only for a second.

“Stop it,” you say, losing momentum with each word, “stop it.”

He finally tugs himself free, ripping your hands from him. He doesn't let go as he presses you a few steps back and leans down to look into your eyes.

His eyes were dark, and you lost him again, the Hajime you want. You yearned to bang on his chest and beg for him back, but you don't dare break the delicate dance you two were in.

“I see them,” you hiss, trying to get in his face, “I see how they look at you.”

“Who?” He spits.

“Your courtiers.” You say the words as if it's a curse.

He throws your hands down, taking steps to the door, still facing you.

“Nothing?” You ask. “You never have anything to say anymore.”

“Why does it matter?” Squaring his shoulders he looks at you straight on.

“Wh-”

“Why does it matter if they look at me?”

“It- I-”

“Tell me why it matters, Princess, and maybe we can talk. I don't want part in your tantrums.”

You watch him walk away, listening to every fading step, until you only have your breathing to fill the silence.

You couldn’t stop thinking about that night, it made you sick, haunting you with the memories of what you had said to each other.

Maybe you had been wrong. Wrong to order him to follow you, wrong to act so brash, wrong to scream at him, and to accuse him of those things.

You scolded yourself for acting that way, to let your temper control you. It had felt good, until you had crashed.

The option-less future spread in front of you. What would you do? Exhaustion was seeping into you, a new type of tired, one that you would do anything to amend.

If your temper wouldn’t fix your problems, you would have to try something else, even if it burned you from the inside out.

You called him to your rooms, something you had never done before. There was no need to call upon each other, you always knew where the other was

Hajime found you in the chair in the corner, the one he used to stay in; you rarely used it.

The last rays of evening sunlight were shining in your windows, cascading over your body.

Your face was illuminated by the sun, every beautiful line and imperfection was open in the light. It made you glow, like you should have been kept in a painting so you could be adored forevermore. You were golden, hair caught fire, glowing like a beacon of truth. The heir of an empire, the hope of thousands.

“Majesty,” he bowed, something he had only done a handful of times, for special occasions. It felt forgien and stiff doing it there.

“Iwaizumi” you said, it sounded like a song, a sigh and a prayer and a plea. But it wasn’t right.

When was the last time you had called him that? Never, a furious voice in the back of his mind told him.

“It’s almost time for me to choose.”

He stood up straighter, meeting your eyes for the first time. There wasn’t that look in them like before, of hurt and hardness. Determination that you would power through. It was just a fact.

It was almost time for you to choose the person of your court to swear a never ending bond with. To protect each other, in body and soul, to in turn protect your kingdom.

You looked down at your hands, and he was compelled to take a step forward to make sure he heard you, but not too close. He had a feeling that if he took another step he would see your red rung eyes, and he didn’t want to think about that.

“I want it to be you… I'm sorry for that night, for yelling, and trying to cut you into pieces. But…” You take a deep breath and look out the window. “ I don’t know what’s changed, and I’m so sorry for how I’ve acted, and whatever I’ve done, but I want it to be you”

With those last words you looked him in the eyes. The anger was gone, and all he saw was a tired princess. His tired princess. You didn’t break his gaze, not saying anything more .

He almost wanted to question you, the maturity in your words shocking. But he stayed quiet; that wasn’t his place anymore.

You had said your peace, he knew, as he looked into your eyes, with your face passive. It was his turn now, to come to you and bear his teeth, to gouge the hurt out of his chest in to lay it bare for both of you.

Hajime had a memory he kept close to him, right on his hip. He might have kept it on his ribs, the ones that protected his heart, if that was where you kept daggers.

It was the winter solstice celebration from years before. Hajime and you were in your parents' private rooms, giving gifts.The two of you sat on the floor next to the fire, with your parents on the couch in front of you.

“Now this one is for both of you.” Your mother explained, handing you both identical boxes. “Open them at the same time.”

You gave Hajime one look before tearing into yours. He didn’t get to see your reaction as he worked on delicately undoing the ribbons, but he heard your gasp.

Resting in your hands was an exquisite, shining dagger. You gently held it up, and both your heads turned in to stare at it.

“Oh my…” You gawked.

Hajime went back to his gift and opened it to an identical dagger. Twins.

He held his up, and you two compared.

They had blades of shimmering silver, with curved tips that looked sharp enough to split hairs. The handles were of matching silver formed into delicate patterns, inland with jewels that matched your kingdom's colors. The metal reflected the light of the fire behind you, flickering gold and orange, like the blades held the sun.

Looking up to your parents your father explained. “I had those made for the two of you.”

You waited, but that was all he offered. Hajime watched you balance the dagger in your hand, turning it over and examining it.

“They’re beautiful.” You say.

“I would hope that you don’t use them on each other, and only wear them for celebrations, but I doubt that is something that will happen.”

Hajime chuckled, looking down at his own dagger. The king might not have said it, but he had a feeling he knew what the daggers were for.

They were the two of you. Cut from the same stone, at each other with blades as sharp as diamonds, all while in your shining castle.

They were to remind you where you came from, that you two were one in the same, and that you were to work together. Much better to mar an enemy with the same blade than have the one that matches your in your gut.

“Thank you,” he said.

Hajime looked at you, and you were smiling. Leaning over, your grin was feral, and he couldn’t help the electricity that went down his spine.

“Do you know what this means?” You ask. “I need to get my dresses tailored.”

Hajime ruffled your hair, but your smile was burned into his memory. One in the same. Maybe his future queen really would be as strong as him.

Hajime could learn to like that.

Hajime was trained by your father and his men to be a warrior. Your warrior. While you were trained in how to fight men across oceans and continents, he was taught how to fight men with steel and teeth. You did give him a run for his money when you brawled, but he knew that he would never want to be facing you in a killing field, with an army at your disposal.

Your cleverness was beyond him, not that you would ever give yourself credit for it. But you were still young, and when he caught something that you had missed in meetings or conversations, the sparkle in your eye, the way he knew you were in awe of him, was addictive.

In all honesty, Hajime wasn’t your only lover, or admirer, you had many. Your parents were kind to you, your father could often be found making you giggle, especially when you were seated next to him at meetings. Your mother and you discussed books and music. You would often receive compliments from your father’s advisors and friends, which always made you blush in thanks. And your mothers lady’s loved to give you advice about clothes and any romantic endeavors you might go one. Not that there were many. The boys liked winking at you, and making you blush. Hajime tried his best to keep that to a minimum. Your court did love you, they loved the princess that was bashful and kind, but had the cleverest ideas at council meetings. You were the beautiful shining light, in your beautiful shining castle, and you would keep your court strong.

Those were all things that Hajime knew well. Painfully well. Because he was always the first to notice. He had seen how they all cared and vowed to make sure that you would stay that way, that you were protected and cared for. So your light never went out, so your kingdom was always strong. He would do what he must, he would not let your court fall.

So when he had looked at you and the light in your eyes had changed, he felt responsible.

It wasn’t a bad change, just different. It only took him a short amount of time to pinpoint what it was.

He couldn’t love you, not like that. He couldn’t let himself break you, because he knew he’d manage somehow, he was always a little heavy handed.

What protector would he be if he broke your heart? If he was the first one to weaken you? To welcome you into the cruel world you would be entering, of choosing the best of horrible options, of lying and deceiving? He would not be the one to welcome you to that.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe you could take it. He wouldn’t be the one introducing you to the hurt, he could be the one to guide you through it.

He was surprised when he found you, always too afraid to wander the place at night. You were in a sitting room, long forgotten by the court, locked away and covered in sheets.

It was one of the rooms you would play in as children, with the furniture pushed to one corner; each and every one of the walls between the tall windows was covered in paintings.

By now both of you had them memorized, whether that be by sunlight, candle light or moon light, both of you knew each of them well.

You were only looking at one, standing right in front of it, your favorite painting of them all.

Hajime watched you, in the light of the moon, stare at the picture. Your profile was perfectly outlined by the stark light.

“Tell me about her again,” he asked, voice carrying across the room.

You spare him a glance before turning back to the painting.

You take a step closer and take a breath. “Her name was Kiyoko.”

You bring your hand up, and with only a finger you delicately trace the frame.

“She was the most beautiful woman in the land, and the man who painted her was in love with her, but there were few who weren’t.”

Hajime didn’t have to see the picture to know what it looked like, he had spent plenty of time looking at it with you. The girl was beautiful, with silky black hair, pale skin, and eyes that felt like they knew all, like they were windows into the fiercest storm.

He knew the curve of her lips and the mole on her chin, and the pastel color of her dress. She was framed in a sea of greenery; plants, grass and trees all around her. Despite her pale dress and cool eyes she was surrounded by orange flowers, and in the corner of the painting, were perched crows.

He wasn’t sure what made you stare at that painting like you did. Like you could see details that weren’t there. You had always said that when you looked at it, you longed for the frame to expand, for the picture to grow wider, to see what she saw.

You also had a thousand questions for her, you wanted to know her as intimately as you knew her face. But she never answered, staring back with those eyes, until only Hajime was left to answer your questions.

“She was loved by everyone, it was said that you would be blessed if she acknowledged you, and if she spoke to you, you were destined for the most devine heaven.” You move your finger from the frame to the painting, looking like you would touch it, but you don’t, only coming infinitely close.

“She married the man she loved, and had a laugh that sounded like bells.” You bring your hand down and step back from the painting.

“You would be her most devoted admirer.” Hajime said.

“I already am,” you smile looking down at your hands, “but I think she would have deserved a beautiful friendship.”

It wasn’t a real story, her name was Kiyoko, that was the name of the painting, but each time you told it, it was different.

Looking up to reply to Hajime, you met his eyes. On his face was a smile that delicately curved, turning his mouth up.

That smile… the curve of his mouth, the sharp teeth behind it. It made your knees week, the relief of seeing it again.

He took steps towards you, until you were standing shoulder to shoulder looking at her again.

“What do the crows mean,” he asked, encouraging you to keep going.

You take a moment before answering. “They’re her other admirers, only to ever love her from afar.”

He hummed, and you swear you could feel it in your bones.

You turn to look at him, right in the eyes.

“It matters… it mattered because you weren’t looking at me.”

He tried to speak, but you stopped him. “No, listen to me.”

He wouldn’t look away from your eyes, face cool.

“I couldn’t- can’t- you just… you weren’t looking at me, and I didn’t know what to do. It’s unbearable.” Your words were so quiet, always so quiet in moments like these

It seemed like he couldn’t bear to break the silence as he said with narrowed eyes. “You think I don’t know, that I didn’t see?”

“You won’t break me Hajime,” you say with a scoff. He almost flinced, coming close but stopping. Like you had seen right through him when he wasn’t expecting.

“You don’t know that,” he hissed, “I know, saw it, everything, and I made that decision. I won’t be the one to introduce you to that, to be the first one to hurt you.”

He spoke with his hands, and you watched them as they moved. They were so wide, well taken care of, you remember them being softer than expected.

“You’re supposed to protect me,” you grit through your teeth. You don’t know if he can tell how flushed you are, but you know he can see the silver lining your eyes.

“H-how am I supposed to protect this kingdom, t-this court without you! I can’t do it without you.”

“You’ll do just fine,” he said, standing up straighter.

“Don’t say that! Why would you- why would you say something like that.”

It was getting hard to get the words out, every time he spoke you ached more and more.

He was panting, like those words had winded him. His face was hard, unyielding. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and covered your wobbling mouth. A sick imitation of a comforting embrace

He didn’t know what to do. His princess was shattering right in front of him and there was nothing he could do.

There was no one to point a blade at, no where to keep you safe. Looking at the tears in your eyes, he knew that this had been happening for a while. You were begging him to take his words back, any of them, but he wouldn’t let himself.

Hajime resisted the urge to look down at his hands. He’d always been heavy handed, that's what he had said to himself. He was trying to shield you, gods-dammit, but those hands had done more harm than good when it really mattered.

All he could do was watch you crumble in on yourself, while he stood feet away.

He was clueless. He always knew what to do. Your faithful, balanced Hajime was at a loss.

You could see it, you blinked and you were there. No longer in that moon-bathed room, but outside, children again.

How old were you? Nine? Eleven? How old was he? Thirteen? Fifteen? You were just children; the same as always. Had you even grown up, were you always clutching each other like this? So dependent yet so unaware of each other?

You had never seen him like this, he lived with a sword in his hand and a shield on his back. His upper lip stiff, his will unmoving.

But the man standing in front of you was desperate, with his hands splayed in front of him, like they would burn you if he got too close.

Why couldn’’t you just say it, why were you two always dancing around it? Your own choreography, your own sacred, unique steps.

“I’m tired,” you say, shoulders dropping, eyes lifting to the ceiling.

“I am too,” Hajime admitted.

You closed your eyes tight, feeling more tears fall from your lashes. And when you opened them again, you were met with steel. Not like the steel of blades, but unforged steel, ready to be shaped, reborn.

Looking into those eyes, the irises that framed hurricanes, it felt like those roaring winds blew right through you. Breathing life into you, fanning your flames. Maybe she could answer just one question for you.

This is the last time, you vowed to yourself, no matter how it ends.

Hajime didn’t ask questions as you dragged him through the palace, his presence giving you a little more confidence than before.

Up and up you went, just when he thought you were done taking him up stairs you found another set, and headed right to the top. You only felt him hesitate once, but you didn’t look back, and he followed. You made it to the top. A tower that was once a sentries station.

“How did you… isn’t there someone working here?” Hajime asked.

You didn’t have to look at him to see the crease in his brow. “No, there’s no need to have anyone up here.”

Your kingdom had been peaceful for years, if any attacks were to come, they would not be so often as to need guards on the lookout every day. Hajime knew that, so you followed. “I haven’t been sleeping, so I’ve just been walking around at night… and I wound up here.”

He didn’t say anything, but you knew what he was thinking. You never walked alone, the fact that you had been in that sitting room tonight was shocking. But you? Wondering up here?

On one hand, you hoped that he was feeling guilty. On the other, you felt horrible for tearing him up like that. But you knew that was how he was feeling, he wouldn’t push it to the side this time. Not with it spelled out in front of him.

Crossing his arms and leaning back, he gave you a look of disapproval, but you were no stranger to those cunning eyes. You tried not to dwell on the picture before you, slowly focusing into something- someone you recognized.

You walked up to the window, leaning against it, staring at the slowly brightening horizon.

“Just tell me why.” Was all you said.

Hajime stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with you, hand on the cool window sill. The warmth that encompassed Hajime's side almost made him purr, you were so close.

He took a moment to look at the view, the mountains in the distance, silhouetted by the rising sun. The dark sky was slowly becoming a splash of deep colors.

“I don’t just protect you, your life isn't your own. What I do affects you, what I see keeps you safe. What I let you do… it could change so much. If I stumble, if I overlook something- so much is at steak. And I know what you were thinking when you looked at me.” He paused as you nodded, and watched your eyes move from the horizon to the city nestled below the palace. “So I stopped, and you were pissed.”

“I’ll be disappointed if you say you didn’t see that coming.”

“Well, it worked to my advantage… until you woke me up that night…”

Your smile melted, but you didn’t say anything. Maybe he was bracing for something, that crackling irritation he was used to. But it didn’t come.

Hajime stiled. Maybe this wasn’t him talking to his princess anymore, as you listened, as he spoke, he realized it was his queen in front of him.

“You hurt me. You were mine and then suddenly you weren’t.” He sat there and listened as your voice cracked

“I’m sorry”

You turned to look at him. “You can’t break me that easy Hajime, we’re one and the same, in sword and devotion. I want you at my back, I want you protecting me. I need you to want the same. I thought- I thought we agreed on that. So please… let me choose you.”

“Please let me be your princess, please let me choose you, I want you to protect me, the right way.”

With you next to him he could see the sunlight reflected in your eyes, how it made them sparkle, how the roofs of your city seemed to wink up at you with the last slivers of moon light. Telling him how much hope they had for you, how they knew that their princess would keep them safe.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

With that admission, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him as hard as you could. You took a few breaths before pulling back, still keeping your arms around him, looking into his eyes.

“Let me be your princess Haji, please.” It was like you were looking for something in his eyes, not breaking the connection.

“Always,” he whispered, leaning closer, not looking away.

“But you aren’t my princess.” He watched your eyes flutter and he drew closer and closer, wrapping his arms around you, keeping you right against him. “You're my queen.”

He met your lips, and you were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He didn’t think he could ever forgive himself if he made you feel like you had again.

And as the sun created the mountains, and it's morning rays illuminated you and Hajime, he knew that his hands might have broken you, but they had also put you back together.

Pulling away from Hajime, you try not to look as out of breath as you felt. You stared into his slate eyes and felt like he had never left, that the time between you that had hurt you was just a memory, a distant past.

They say you can’t remember pain. Maybe its to give you the courage to forgive, to be able to try again.

You watched his mouth as he said, “I'm a fool.”

“Then that would make me a fool too,” you muse, tone playful.

“No,” he said, shaking his head slightly, furrow in his brow. “We can’t have a queen who's a fool.”

“Then what am I?”

“An idiot,” you watched his mouth as he said it. His smile was crooked, like he was trying to hide it.

“Like the lovers,” You breathe, your own smile spreading across your face.

“Like the lovers,” he repeated.

The word lovers echoed in your head when you decided you wanted to kiss him again.

With each breath, you felt the embers inside of you cool to ashes, blowing in the wind like ash.

You might have lied, that night wouldn't be your last fight, but it would never be like that ever again.

Hajime and you were once again in the practice hall, but this time things were different. You were both giddy, as the early morning sun glinted in your eyes. You tumbled and swung your swords at each other, but this time it was laughter shared between you, not savage words.

You felt like you two were dancing again. With your dress whispering around your legs, and the dagger that matched Hajimes visible around your hip, you felt like you had that night as children, when Hajime first taught you to laugh.

You weren’t upset, or nervous this time, as you gave each other bruises and sore shoulders. Because later that morning at the ceremony you knew who would be standing next to you, with his back straight and his shoulders down. Your fiercest warrior and most devoted lover.

#hajime iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi x reader #hajime iwaizumi x you #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #hajime imagines #hajime x reader #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi x y/n #iwazumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi fanfic #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwazumi hajime #iwazumi x you #my stuff #my wriring

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elvish-sky · 4 years ago

Text

Look Back {Thorin x Reader}

A.N: A thousand thanks to @guardianofrivendell , who kinda kickstarted this entire fic with their great idea (everyone go check out their work, it’s incredible!). Quick note on character ages- after the five years later bit Sigrid is 20, Otto is 3, and Kieran of course is relative to your age. I honestly really enjoyed writing this, even the parts where it made me cry (a good emotional outlet. Send me more angsty requests!) so I really hope it’s what you wanted, Anon!

Requested by Anon on Tumblr: Thanks for answering my ask about angst! No worries if it'll take a while, so long as you're healthy and not stressing out about it, I will wait cuz your writing is soo worth it)I was wondering if I could request an either thorin x reader(f!human) or kili x Reader(f!human) where the reader is dumped by them and she moves on (like ends up with an elf or another dwarf) and lives a happy life, and thorin or kili regrets having left them and tries to get them back but sees that they lost their One cuz of their mistake and regrets it? (Is that too angsty?? I'm so sorry if it is!)

Word Count: 4,576. The longest thing I’ve ever written is an angst fic. Huh.

Summary: Thorin doesn’t want to push back against the council when they say you cannot be married.

Pairings: Thorin x Reader, OC (I have those now. Huh.) x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Regret, End of Relationship, Sadness, Fluff

Director’s Commentary

****

Look Back

“It is the will of the council that, since Y/N is not a dwarf, the two of you shall not be married, and cannot be together.”

Your head jerked up. You had been expecting pushback, but not a flat-out refusal. Turning your head to look at Thorin, you saw him bow his head in defeat.

“Very well. If it is the will of the council.”

The words hit you in the chest like an arrow. You thought he would fight for you, but no. You weren’t worth it. You rose and left without another word, slipping between the doors as the council watched you go. Balin sighed from his seat midway down the stone table, shaking his head in disappointment at the whole room.

Arriving at your rooms, the ones right next to Thorin’s that you had been so proud of, you started shoving your belongings into a sack, leaving anything that had been given to you by your former love out. You didn’t want any reminders of him, even to see him ever again.

Sadly, your wish to not see him didn’t work, as shown very quickly. Barely three minutes after you had entered your rooms, he came bursting through the carved double doors.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I can’t disobey the council.”

You scoffed, grabbing your few tunics and folding them into the bag.

He continued, “You can stay, we can ask again in a few months, give them more time to warm up to the idea.”

“No. If I’m not worth fighting for now, how do I know I’ll be worth it then?”

You were drawing the string closed on your meager bag of belongings. It was rather sad to think how little you actually owned, versus what had been gifted to you by your former betrothed.

“I’m not going to risk my heart like this, Thorin. I can see that I never actually mattered.”

“Y/N-”

You cut him off.

“You’ve broken promises before, but I never thought you’d break this one, Thorin Oakenshield.”

You had been undoing your courting braid as you spoke, and now flung the bead at him. It fell into his hand, and you didn’t even spare a moment for the pain in his eyes as you slammed the door behind you, leaving a king with everything feeling as if he had just lost the one thing that really mattered.

You arrived at the gates to Erebor to see something rather unexpected. The entire company was gathered there, and you stopped in front of them. They were all gazing at you with unshed tears in their eyes, and looking at them you couldn’t believe how far you all had come from that ragged company running for their lives. It made you sad to think about leaving, when the reminders of what you were giving up were all right there.

“I’m sorry about the council, lass.” Balin was the first to speak. “I tried to sway them, but it just couldn’t be done. I’ll keep trying.”

You mustered a small smile for the old dwarf. “Thank you, Balin, but you don’t have to keep beating a dead horse. We both know nothing will come of it.”

Each member of the company stepped forward and said goodbye, hugging you before moving back to the group. Dwalin settled for briefly squeezing you, before stepping back with a muttered, “I’ll miss yeh, lass.” You saw him surreptitiously wipe a tear from his cheek, and giggled a little.

Nori slipped a few coins into your pocket, as well as a set of lock picks. “You never know when they’ll come in handy.”

Dori was crying as he pressed several bags of tea leaves into your hand. You sniffed them, recognizing the scent of your favorite kind.

Ori was also teary as he quickly wrapped a knitted scarf around your neck. “It gets cold out there,” were his parting words before he retreated to stand next to Dori.

You let out a small laugh as Gloin handed you an ax. “I already have my sword!”

“Yes, lassie, but everyone knows axes are better.” There were gasps of outrage, but you were glad that the dwarf had lightened the mood, even just a little. Besides, the axe truly was gorgeous. A lovely specimen of dwarven craftsmanship, with a beautifully carved handle.

“Is that a dragon?” Gloin nodded, and you marveled at the intricacies.

Bifur approached next, pressing a carving into your hand. You looked at the figure. “That’s me!” He nodded, and you gazed at the detail he had worked in, even the etchings on your sword were visible in the wood.

Bombur handed you a satchel, and you opened it. You gave the dwarf a big hug as you saw the honey-scones packing it to the brim. “My favorite.”

“The recipe is in there too.” You couldn”t resist giving him a second hug of thanks.

Bofur came forward after his brother. “I’d sing you something, but I’m not sure I can do it without crying.” You straightened his hat, which had been set askew by your hug, as he stepped back.

Fili and Kili were last. Fili approached you slowly, but Kili shoved him out of the way and crashed into you. Burying his face in your coat, he whispered, “I really wanted to get to call you Auntie.”

You choked back tears, wrapping your arms around him as his brother joined the hug.

“You’ll write to us?” Fili looked as if he was trying not to cry as well, while Kili had given up and had tears visibly streaming down his cheeks.

“I will.” You broke away with difficulty and gave the group one last look. “Thank you all, so much.” They nodded, and you turned and walked out of the gates, leaving your old love behind.

Thorin watched from the ramparts high above as you left. He knew he had made the right choice for his kingdom, but it hurt. The expression on your face was slowly killing him, and he knew whatever his doubts had been that you had truly loved him. He had loved you too, but he thought he loved his kingdom more. Nevertheless, he found himself hoping that you would turn around, come back, even though he knew he would have to turn you away.

You didn’t turn around.

You didn’t even look back.

*Five Years Later*

You shouldered the door open, arms full of papers. “I’m home!”

“Mama!” A small shape barreled into you and you barely managed to hold onto the papers, handing them to your husband before scooping the three-year-old up.

“Otto! How was your day?” You pressed a kiss to Otto’s forehead before pecking Kieran on the cheek as you brushed by him into the sitting room. There was a fire going, smoke drifting up the chimney and you stood near it, warming hands chilled by the brisk fall air.

“Good! Look what I made!” Otto wiggled out of your grasp and trotted over to the table, where after lots of jumping he finally managed to catch hold of something. He placed it in your lap, and you weren’t sure whether to be mad or touched. You settled for shooting a glare at Kieran before oohing and ahhing over the crudely carved figure.

“It’s you, Mommy! Like the one on the table!”

Examining it closer, you could see something that looked like a sword. It was nowhere near the skill of Bifur’s carving that you still treasured, but it was very sweet nonetheless.

“Wonderful job, darling.”

“Are we going to the market today?” Otto looked up at you with pleading eyes.

“Why?” You shot a suspicious glance at Kieran, who assumed a very innocent expression.

“Because Da said that if we went to the market and got ingredients you would make the honey scones!”

“He did, did he?”

Kieran looked guilty as you frowned at him.

“Don’t worry. Let’s put our boots on and head out!”

Otto jumped with excitement and ran to grab his boots.

You crossed your arms and glared at your husband. “I cannot believe you let him use a knife.”

“He’s three! He’s old enough. Besides, I was watching him the whole time.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!” You threw your hands up in exasperation before kissing him.

“But don’t worry, I still love you.”

“I love you too.” Kieran drew you in for a deeper kiss, and you responded enthusiastically.

“Let’s go!!” Your moment was interrupted by Otto, practically bouncing with excitement by the door. You laughed at him and wrapped your scarf, still holding up five years later, around your neck. Linking arms with Kieran, you giggled as Otto tugged on his hat from his perch on his father’s shoulders, and walked out the door.

The streets of Dale were bustling, people going to the market, or the King’s house just down your street.

Having been a hero of the Battle of the Five Armies, and one of two members of the company who had seen reason (the other being Bilbo, of course), you had a close friendship with King Bard. When you had marched into Dale after leaving Erebor, eyes still swollen with tears, he and his children had taken care of you, and it was because of him that you had met Kieran.

Two months after leaving Erebor, you had been helping Bard train recruits for Dale’s army. Most of the men disliked being trained by a girl, but one had taken your advice and training exactly as he would a man’s. He had grown skilled, and after striking up a friendship had asked to court you. You had said yes, even though you weren’t over Thorin, but had quickly fallen head over heels in love. Kieran was perfect. He respected your fighting skills and didn’t mind your closeness to the king. He was sweet, kind, funny, and in his eyes every was perfect until proven otherwise. He always saw the best in people, never the worst. In other words, he was everything Thorin hadn’t been, and more.

The two of you were married in a ceremony officiated by the King Bard six months after he had asked to court you, a year after leaving Erebor. Fili, Kili, and Balin had attended the ceremony, sneaking away from their royal duties for a day on the pretense of a diplomatic mission. You had kept your promise to write, and although the news of you finding someone else was hard for the two princes, they were happy your heart had started to heal. You had gotten pregnant two months later, news which was received with joy from everyone who heard. Upon reading your letter announcing the news that Fili decided to show him in the middle of a council meeting (later recognized as an extremely bad decision), Kili had let out a whoop of joy, looking guilty when everyone looked at him and promptly throwing the letter into the fire. You had laughed uproariously upon hearing this story from Fili the next time he made it to Dale. The day that Otto was born, your heart healed more. You still remembered the pain you had felt leaving Erebor, of feeling like you did not matter, but it was better now. You had been able to keep in touch with most of the company, all who had been to visit at some point after his birth. You didn’t know if Thorin knew you had moved on or had a child, but you were getting to the point where you could forgive him, just a little, for the past.

Swinging your hand entwined with Kieran’s, you made your way through the market, stopping at all your favorite stalls to chat and pick out baking ingredients. Noticing Sigrid, Bard’s eldest daughter, picking up honey, you talked while inspecting the jars.

“Da’s been taking half a jar to put in his tea, lately. I think he’s craving sugar.”

“More than usual?”

You laughed at Kieran’s comment. “Tell him we’re making honey scones tonight. I’ll bring some up later.”

“He’ll appreciate that, although hopefully, Bain doesn’t eat them all first like he did last time!”

“I wanna eat all the scones with Bain!” Otto was feeling left out from his perch.

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased to have the company.” Sigrid giggled at him, passing a flower up to him before waving goodbye.

“She’s a good kid.” Kieran looked after her fondly.

“We’re not that much older than she is!” You pointed this out as you brushed flower petals out of his hair, Otto looking sad as his work was undone.

“Now c’mon. We still need to buy more flour, especially if we’re making scones for Bard!”

You set off again, laughing with your family as you wound through the market. You were in the middle of the artisanal section when a hush fell, the sea of people parting as something made its way through. You kept moving forward, pushing people aside to see what was happening, until you came face to face with Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain.

“Y/N.” He was the first to acknowledge you, looking as if it pained him to do so.

“Thorin.” There were gasps at your familiarity, but you didn’t care. You promptly turned around, grabbing your husband’s hand and dragging him, a silent Otto clinging to his shoulders, away.

You didn’t look back this time, either.

“You didn’t tell me she had a child!”

Thorin was back in Erebor, pacing around his chambers as Balin watched. He had been unable to think properly after seeing you in the market, and Fili and Balin had decided that the best course of action, or at least the one least likely to cause a diplomatic incident, was to reschedule the meeting with Bard and bring him back to the Lonely Mountain.

“You never asked.” Balin had resigned himself to having a hard conversation the minute he saw you in the market, he just didn’t know what exactly that conversation would be like. They had managed to keep the two of you apart for the last five years, but it was bound to happen sometime.

“But...she has a child.” Thorin was devastated.

He had found out that you had kept in touch with the company six months after you left, coming across Kili reading a letter from you in the library. The fact that Kili was in the library in the first place was suspicious enough, and his doubts had been confirmed when he snuck up behind his nephew and read the letter over his shoulder.

His gasp of, “She’s courting someone,” had been loud enough to startle half the library. Kili had jumped and tried to hide the parchment, but Thorin had simply crashed down into the chair, head in his hands.

After taking several deep breaths, all the king said was, “She’s moved on. I have to as well,” before rising and brushing himself off, as if to brush the memories of you away. He had seemed fine, but Fili had heard the muttering coming from his room that night, of loss and grief and mistakes.

After that, they had been much better at hiding their correspondence. The brothers had only decided to tell him about your life one more time, a year after you left, saying you had been married. He had taken that news well, it seemed, but Kili had heard the broken sobs coming from the king’s chambers late that night.

“She cannot be happy with that- that man!” Now, Thorin seemed to be taking this news hardest of all.

“She is, lad. We’ve all seen her with them. They’re a family.” Balin was trying to calm him down, but it just wasn’t working.

“But, she’d be happier here. With me!” He was pacing the room now, raking his hands through his hair in greater distress.

“Thorin,” Balin grabbed him, stopping him so that the two were face to face, “you still love her.”

The king staggered back, falling onto his bed. His head was in his hands again, almost mirroring how he had looked with Kili four years ago.

“Lad?”

“Leave.”

The one word was whispered, quieter than Balin had ever heard his king. He left, closing the door and signaling to the guard outside that the king was not to be disturbed.

The next morning, Thorin walked out of his rooms with an air of purpose about him. He was wearing an old cloak, to not be recognized as the king. Fili and Kili still managed to notice the distinct gait of their uncle and stopped him in the halls right near the gate.

“Where are you going?” Kili looked concerned.

“Balin was right last night. I am still in love with Y/N, so I’m going to bring her back.”

The identical looks of shock on his nephew’s face would have been hilarious in other circumstances.

“You’re still in love with Y/N?!”

“Keep up, Kili!” Fili smacked his brother before continuing.

“Uncle, I hate to say this, but remember how she looked at you yesterday? I don’t think she’ll be happy to see you.”

Kili nodded at his brother’s words. “Besides, you’re the king. How are you going to convince the council when you failed five years ago?”

Thorin looked a little surprised at that, as if he hadn’t quite thought that far ahead, but shook it off. “She will be happy to see me this time. I’m going to Dale.”

“Uncle, no!” Kili tried to block his way, but Thorin shoved past him, disappearing quickly.

“Follow him to Dale, I’ll tell Balin and the rest of the company.” Fili brushed his brother off and turned to go back to the royal wing as Kili disappeared after their uncle.

You were making your way through the twisting streets of Dale, delivering scones to friends as you went. You had stopped at the market to give some to the honey-vendor, who always appreciated them, before turning back the direction you came. You stopped back home to pick up the basket you had made for Bard, walking in on Kieran and Otto stuffing their faces with scones and looking incredibly guilty, before continuing the walk up the hill. You were ushered in by Hakon, as usual (Bard didn’t like keeping servants, he said it made him feel “stuffy,” but a king was afforded certain privileges), and you gave him a grateful smile as he took your heavy scarf to hang up.

“I have scones!” You entered Bard’s office, plopping the basket on his desk from which he immediately grabbed one.

“Delicious.”

You smiled at his praise, laughing as Bain burst through the doorway behind you.

“Did I hear scones?” He quickly dove for the basket, grabbing two.

“One for each hand!” He tried to justify this before shrugging and taking a bite, giving you a thumbs up.

“I’ve got to go home, make sure Kieran and Otto aren’t in a food coma, but I’m glad you like them!”

The king and his son nodded at you, waving goodbye as their mouths were still stuffed with a scone.

“And save some for the girls!” You left with that, laughing at their sad faces.

It was pleasant out, the sort of fall day you looked forward to, so you decided that Kieran and Otto could spare you for a little while, just long enough for you to take a walk on the walls of the city.

The view of the mountain was gorgeous from here. When you had first left, you had spent hours staring, wondering if you had made a mistake by leaving. Now, you just liked to appreciate the view.

“Want to come back?”

You jumped, spinning to see Thorin standing behind you. You hadn’t really paused to look at him the day before, but now you noticed he looked different. Not bad, but it didn’t look as if he’d found happiness the way you had.

He stepped forward. “Y/N. I’ve come to ask you to rejoin me in the mountain.”

Your jaw dropped. “What? Do you want me to move in with my family? That seems like a bad idea.”

“No, Y/N,” he took your hand and you were too surprised to remove it from his grasp, “I want you to be my queen.”

You laughed and jerked your hand away. It wasn’t a sound of amusement, no. It sounded empty.

Hollow.

“We saw how well that went last time.”

“No, Y/N. This time I mean it. Come to Erebor.”

“I’m happy here, Thorin. I have a husband and a child.”

“Your child can come too, and I’m sure I can do much better for you than that man!”

Your cheeks reddened with anger as you balled up your fists, trying to restrain yourself. “I’m happy here, Thorin! I don’t need you to take me to Erebor when I have everything I could possibly want already!”

He looked as if you had physically hit him.

“Y/N, you deserve more than this, though! The council won’t be any trouble this time.”

“And you think you’re the one who can give me what I deserve?” You laughed again, the hollow sound caught by the wind.

“No, dwarf. I have everything I deserve right here and I’m not going to let you ruin it. This is my happiness, and I will be damned if I let you take that away!”

“Y/N-”

“No. I wasn’t worth fighting for then, I know I won’t be worth it now.”

“But I love you, Y/N.”

“And I loved you, once. But you’re too late.”

He watched as you walked away for the third time, knowing that this was the last.

You didn’t look back.

Kieran knew something was wrong the minute you walked through the door.

“Otto, say bye-bye to Mama and get ready to go with Sigrid!” He strode over to you and hugged you quickly before pulling away.

“Sigrid’s going to take Otto for a few hours.”

“Thank you, Sigrid.” You mustered a smile for her as she tugged her boots back on.

“Of course! C’mon Otto, Bain’s waiting!” She giggled as the child trotted out of his room, looking squishy and adorable in his winter clothes.

He ran over to you and you bent down and hugged him.

“I love you, Mama!”

You kissed his forehead before ushering him to Kieran, who got the same treatment before Otto trotted over to Sigrid and grabbed her hand.

“Bye Y/N! Bye Kieran!” You lifted a hand in farewell as they left, waiting for the door to close behind them before collapsing into Kieran’s arms.

He immediately started to murmur to you, whispering reassurances in your ear as he guided you to sit next to him. He waited for your sobs to fade before speaking.

“What happened?”

“I went for a- a walk on the walls and I ran into Th- Thorin,” you choked out, voice breaking when you said his name.

You could see Kieran’s face soften in understanding.

“Did he harm you?”

You shook your head. “He wanted me to marry him. He…” you hesitated as you saw Kieran’s eyes spark with anger, but continued.

“He said you weren’t good enough for me. I told him you were better than I deserved.”

His eyes lightened again and he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Do you need to talk it out?” That was one of the things you loved about Kieran, he didn’t offer solutions or try to fix all your problems, he just listened. He knew that when you had an issue, you just wanted someone to talk to, not to come up with ideas but just to support you.

You nodded. “I just, I felt so bad for him. And I know I shouldn’t, but he just seems so lonely.”

“Do you want to go back? He’s right, you deserve more than me.”

Your head snapped up. “No! Kieran, why would you think that? I’m happy here. I have the perfect husband and a wonderful child, and I wouldn’t trade any of that for the world.”

He still looked doubtful.

“Kieran, he broke my heart five years ago, and yes, I was in love with him then, but you picked up the broken pieces and helped me heal. I’d never leave you.”

You kissed him on the lips this time, trying to convey just how much he meant to you. “I love you,” you whispered, pulling away.

“I love you too.” He pulled you back in for another kiss. When you broke apart you lay your head on his chest as he moved to lay down.

“Let’s take advantage of the extra rest before Otto gets back.”

You laughed at him and felt the rumble of his chest as his breaths deepened, watching him fall asleep. As you faded into unconsciousness, you couldn’t help but think that after all you’d been through, you were so unbelievably lucky to have found Kieran.

Thorin had never understood what people meant when they called Erebor The Lonely Mountain. Now, walking up to the gates alone, he got it. Something was missing, something that he’d never noticed before but now felt the absence of more keenly than ever. He couldn’t believe that he had failed to win you back. He hadn’t realized just how much he had hurt you five years ago, but the pain in your eyes had made it very clear.

“I’m sorry, Uncle.” Kili appeared next to him as he walked up to the gates.

Thorin ignored him, ignored the salutes and waves he got from his subjects as he made a beeline for his rooms, Kili dashing around in his wake to fix the wounded pride of every dwarf he ignored.

Once Thorin made it to his rooms he locked the door behind him, taking slight delight even through his misery at the thump meaning Kili had crashed into it, before collapsing in his chair.

He still was in shock. No, not shock, he was devastated. It had never occurred to him that you would be happy in Dale, wouldn’t want to rule a kingdom. He had thought that he wasn’t in love with you for the better part of five years, and once he realized he still was he hadn’t thought you wouldn’t feel the same.

A knock sounded at the door. “Please let us in, Uncle.”

Thorin sighed and went to undo the bolts.

Fili and Kili entered, both looking much more subdued than usual. Fili took in how Thorin’s coat was thrown on the floor, his boots tossed haphazardly in each direction and sighed.

“What do you need?” Despite knowing how Thorin had hurt you, Kili couldn’t help but feel bad for his uncle. He had never seen Thorin like this. He looked broken.

“I need to be alone.”

His nephews nodded, actually obeying him for once, and slipped out the door.

Thorin was again left alone with his thoughts. Somehow, he had realized that you had been his One. That was why he had said out to make things better. But he had failed. He had lost his One, the only person who he could ever love didn’t love him back.

Thorin buried his head in his hands, letting out a broken sob. For the fourth time in his life, he had failed. He was too late.

Everything tag <3: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @anjhope1 @boyruins

Thorin tag <3: @lathalea

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janeyseymour · 3 years ago

Text

I saw the second preview of six and here are my thoughts (along with a few fun stories at the end):

My heart literally fell out of my ass when the queens started walking out They changed a few small little things here and there and it was perfect If six doesn’t win best lighting at the Tony’s I will sue Ex-wives was WOW I literally could not stop smiling Some of the poses were different

ADRIANNA FREAKING NAILED NO WAY

I am convinced she just is beyonce always

She’s just fantastic in that role and that’s what I have to say about that

Ig abby danced a little too hard during no way because she kept messing with her wig after

Actually she lowkey played with it throughout the whole show and it was adorbs

Britt was helping her fix it and like pointing out where it was a little cray (also abby’s wig looks so good omf)

ANDREA IS- WOAH DURING DLYH

Her delivery throughout the whole show was a bit more mature, but it was still so babey I love her

(On a side note someone today told me I look like Andrea, which is very kind but so untrue because I literally look like a broken thumb and she is gorgeous)

Her “IM NOT SORRY” was amAZING

She like low-key cut made the whole head joke short and im kinda sad ab it, but it was still fantastique

Through the “Wearing Yellow To A Funeral Bit” abby looked confused through the entire thing and I was cracking up

HEART OF STONE HOLY SHIT

She was INCREDIBLE and her dress was so pretty and sparkly and I just wow

Shes just so pretty in general like ma’am how do you do that please drop the skin care routine

The emotion that was conveyed was enough to make me tear up BUT I DID NOT CRY AND I AM VERY PROUD OF THAT

she did the “you lift me high” line and kinda went into this airy place in her voice and it was angelic and heavenly and all the good things

HER RIFFS WERE JUST DFJDHJLFH

She was just fantastic and thats all I have to say

Thats a lie I have so many things to say about that woman but the time will come

HOH was a whole acid trip there was a point during this song where I literally just took it all in and then thought “Janey, you really spent your hard earned money to go on an acid trip for a solid few minutes good job”

Their dancing is hilarious and thats that

ABBY SAYING “BUT WE CANNOT GUARANTEE THAT YOU’LL STILL WALK AT FORTY” I had to stifle a laugh because my queen is indeed 40

THE GERMAN ACCENTS HAD ME QUAKING

Brittney Mack is… all bad bitch energy and I was living for it

She is a queen

When she did the “my horses can trot up to twelve miles an hour”- in the boot (not that I watch those…) abby is always making a 😳😶😲 kind of face and this time she just couldn’t stop smiling and it made me laugh

WOOF

Her reveal was SO GOOD she literally just started checking out her nails while everyone just applauded… AS THEY SHOULD

When britt told the person to get up, this person full on WENT and britt was like shook it was hysterical

THE INTERLUDE BETWEEN GET DOWN AND THEN KAT’S ROAST WAS ICONIQUE

i dont think it was here but I cant remember where it was but BRITT WAS PLAYING WITH ABBY’S WIG AND IT WAS REALLY CUTE SHE WAS LIKE PLAYING WITH THE ENDS OF IT AND AWH

justice for the beheaded cousins

BOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOO BABY MARY HAD THE CHICKEN POX AND YOU DIDN’T GET TO HOLD HER HAND… YOU KNOW ITS FUNNY BECAUSE WHEN I WANTED TO HOLD MY NEWBORN SON…. IIIIII DIIIIIIEDD. Abby lowkey went feral and I loved every second of it and then her pose after got so many laughs it was truly amazing

THE K HOWARD ROAST WAS JUST SO GOOD IT WAS SO GOOD

Aywd destroyed me

I also teared up here but I did not let those babies fall because I was not about to ruin my look

justice for my pink queen

Her delivery is insane and honestly its gotten better and I didn’t even know that was possible because WOW SHE WAS ALREADY STUNNING BUT DAMN MY HEART GOT RIPPED OUT OF MY CHEST

The whole “Catherine not singing” bit was fantastic

Abby looked so confused the entire time

Andrea’s “hahaha what” was perfecto

when Anna said “should we really be doing this” someone in the audience went “yes” very loudly and made the queens break for a solid second abby almost forgot to say her line and you could barely hear it because the audience was laughing at the rando

Anna acknowledged it and just went “I know” before turning to the queens and saying “I know” it was hysterical

“I’m Catherine parr, I draw the line in arbitrary places bLaH bLaH bLaH”

THE CLAPPING- BRITT GOT IN HER FACE AND JUST *CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.” It was the funniest thing oh my gosh

“Are you sure Catherine? I-we don’t mind if you wanna sit this one out… I mean you must be exhausted from all those backing vocals”

IDNYL WAS INSANE AND ANNA UZELE IS WICKED TALENTED LIKE DANG

I dont know if this was intentional or not but when they all start to understand the purpose of parr’s thing- abby is the last to stand up and in my head im like “no yeah that makes sense because shes “the one he truly loved” and shes still trying to get to a point where shes realizing he wasn’t all that great and I dont know I just really like that minor detail

The whole “remember that I was a writer…” part got loud cheers, especially from abby it was very cute

She did a new riff on the “we all disappear” line and WOW my eyes went so wide it was so good I was genuinely shook

the “i dont get it” was sooo good

“My sixth finger” was said so casually and so determinedly that it was a whole new joke and I loved it

“Everyone notices Jane cant dance” -abby just looking so sad

“Yeeeaaaahhhhh. I read!” Was so cute and she sounded so proud of herself it was adorbs

The way they just stood there awkwardly was amazing and got so many laughs it was so good

When sam said the line about competing, abby really almost cut Anna’s line out but she caught herself and it was funny I dont know if anyone else noticed it, but I did and it was glorious

REMIX

“Rise abo-o-o-o-ove” WAS BEAUTIFUL THEY WERE IN SUCH GOOD HARMONY

AGAIN, ANNA’S RIFFS HOW DOES THAT WOMAN DO THAT AT THE END OF THE SHOW LIKE SHIT

After it was over, of course it got long applause and the entire time abby was doing her like “sparkle hands” but also awkwardly moving her arm kinda like a noodle and then going back to sparkle hands and it gave me a good chuckle

Six

The slow acoustic part was so soft I died

The harmonies was delicious

The audience was so hype

Megasix

Super hype

Amazing

Fantastic

All the good things ever

Basically it was just adorable and amazing and absolutely stunning

The new costumes are gorgeous and the lighting is wild if they don’t win best lighting for Tony awards I will full on riot

Aragon and Boleyn interacted a lot and so did Seymour and Cleves and it was very very sweet

Abby interacted with the band a lot to the point where she almost missed a cue and it was very endearing

AND THEN THEY DID THE CURTAIN UP THING AND FIRST OF ALL WOW THEY ARE ALL SO CUTE AND IT WAS SO SWEET SEEING THE WAY THEY ALL WATCHED EACH OTHER WHILE THEY WERE SINGING AND I JUST JDKFDJLA

abby’s hair is SO LONG but I am here for it

So I was looking for my friend when I hear “Make some room, make a path!” From a security guard, and the queens legit walked RIGHT PAST ME

I wanted to go to the theatre anyway to take pictures, but when I saw them, I did follow them back to the theatre because wow I wanted to bask in their glory I didnt even want to talk to them I just wanted to be in their presence

So im like, walking behind them when this happens:

I guess abby saw someone she knew because I heard this “abby!” And then she was like “OH MY GOD” and like RAN to hug them and i legit almost walked right into her/got stepped on but i freaking stopped like a noob i should’ve just let her run me over but I did not I just stopped in my tracks and let out a soft “aH” and then went around her

And then I got to meet a friend and apparently toby heard us squealing and watched us hug for a solid however long so that was awkward

And Julia schade was like talking to him and stared at us for a good amount of time

And then I was walking away and passed Julia again and she kept looking at me, but she was talking to someone else and I think she thought I was going to stay to talk to her (and I would have loved to) but I didnt I just gave her a smile, a nod, and a little wave because I can not do confrontation like if I could not confront abby ma’am I cannot confront u either I am SHY

And that is a very detailed run down of my time in nyc at the brooks

#six the musical #six broadway #six the musical cast #adrianna hicks #andrea macasaet #abby mueller #brittney mack #sam pauly #samantha pauly #anna uzele #new york city #broadway #hairspray musical #theatre #theater

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glowingbadger · 3 years ago

Note

You may have a little Lorenz Prompt as promised. As a treat. Here goes~

Lorenz taking thorough notes to surprise his s/o (is it the blog owner? the reader? some random character? It doesn't matter~!) with the most lovely, romantic date imaginable based around everything they like. He wouldn't put in this much effort to TRULY impress someone, but you're worth every step and more.

Enjoy where this takes your thoughts~!

(and pls don't eat it, Tumblr)

Y'know what, I've had a shitty day and I just finished writing some darker content- so I am going to ~indulge~. Normally I try to make my Reader character as broadly relatable as possible, but today we're going with MY preferences and interests because I WANT A NICE DATE WITH LORENZ GODDAMNIT

Lorenz (FE3H) x GN Reader - perfect date

Fluff - SFW

Today simply has to be flawless- the Gloucester heir will not accept any less. Not when it comes to you. Of course, Lorenz holds himself to high standards in all things, but the thought of providing anything less than perfection for you is one that pains him to even consider. Especially now that he'd finally gotten the courage- or, rather, found the right and proper time to ask you to spend the day with him.

You approach him at the Monastery gates not long after noon that day, and find your pace slowing as you eye him before he's noticed you. Without his usual elegant set of armor, you can appreciate the way constant marching and training has toned his slender frame- and appreciate it, you most certainly do. Though he soon turns to face you, and your eyes dart back up from a rather ignoble place to meet his instead.

"You're as radiant as ever, I see," he says with a warm smile. He offers you an arm and you take it, replying with a grin,

"You've already got me for the day, Lorenz, there's no need for flattery."

"'Flattery' implies a measure of falsehood," he says with confidence, leading you towards town, "and I could never bring myself to lie to one so lovely."

As your time together proceeds, you can't help but feel that, some way, somehow, Lorenz has some kind of psychic insight into your preferences. Everywhere you turn, whatever your heart could desire is immediately available and set before you with hardly any negotiation at play. At the first flower stall you find, Lorenz takes a moment to exchange words with the owner while you admire the sprawling array of colorful blooms; and by the time he's returned, he's holding a woven crown of delicate little white flowers. With an admiring smile, he carefully places it on your head, a hand trailing down a lock of your hair as he pulls away to observe you.

With a shy grin, you perform an exaggerated curtsy, prompting Lorenz to laugh fondly and take you by the hand. He twirls you slowly under his arm, watching you all the while, then says,

"They suit you every bit as wonderfully as I'd thought."

"They're my favorites," you reply.

"I know- erm, that is- I know of a superb bakery down the block this way," Lorenz seems a bit red in the face, but you chalk that up to nerves.

He's not wrong though- this bakery is something else. The selection and quality of ingredients is on an entirely new level compared to the Monastery's dining hall, and you find yourself overwhelmed even reading down the list of items posted to the wall. By your third pass over the full range of options, the words are starting to dance in your eyes- but a warm touch at your arm shakes your focus. Lorenz leans close to be heard over the rapidly growing crowd at the bakery's counter,

"Might I make a recommendation?" you nod, and he goes on, "I happen to have it on good authority that there's an item not included on this menu that you may like. It incorporates three different treatments of Brigid cocoa, if that is of any interest to you."

Your eyes light up and you can practically feel the rich sweetness across your tongue already.

"That sounds incredible," you reply, enraptured by the very thought. When you start to ask how he'd heard of such a thing, Lorenz has already turned to speak to the worker taking orders, and your words drown among the crowd of customers. The speed at which he acquires this mythical pastry only fills your mind with more questions. How did he manage to purchase an off-menu item so quickly? Wouldn't the cost of something requiring those many luxurious imported ingredients be astronomical?

But then, Lorenz returns to your side and guides you out of the crowded shop, and the sight of the delectable chocolatey treat in his hands dashes all other thoughts from your mind. He hands it to you wrapped in a handkerchief, and you can't help but immediately plunge in for a bite.

"Mmmm-!" you wear an expression of pure bliss as your mouth fills with sweet, savory chocolate, "Oh- Lorenz, it's so good!"

When you glance up at him, he's watching you with a strangely heavy expression. Once more, his fair complexion is painted a light red. You tilt your head curiously, and he seems to resurface from whatever thoughts had taken him for the moment.

"Here- you should try some," you break off a piece and hold it up to him.

"Are- are you certain? I had intended for you to enjoy it to your heart's content," he stammers out, evidently still a bit flushed.

"I want you to get to have some too. Please?" You hate to resort to puppy eyes with him, but it's hard to argue with the results. He leans forward and accepts the piece of pastry from your hand. You don't shy away from him in the slightest, and so a brief brush of his lower lip along the tip of your finger simply can't be avoided. Lorenz does his best to move past this without acknowledgement, and you two enjoy your treat together as you take in the bustle of the town around you.

The day continues in kind, with Lorenz apparently having painstakingly arranged every element of this date from start to finish. At a local seller of antiques and luxury goods, he secures permission to view and explore rare and dazzling paintings from around the world. Here, he's rather uncharacteristically reserved. Wandering the storage area like your own personal art museum, he watches you with evident warmth as you exclaim at the rich and varied pigments, the innovative expressions of human form, and so on.

After this, he brings you to a tavern at the far end of town, where he's reserved the second floor exclusively for you two to enjoy a quiet, intimate meal together. By this point, you've finally gotten around to considering just how much gold must have gone into this singular date.

"Lorenz," you say cautiously, "are you sure it's okay to go through all of this and spend so much just for-"

He raises a hand to cut you off, then replies,

"I assure you that it is," he takes your hand in his, holding it warmly from across your private table, "wealth has no value that we ourselves do not assign to it, and I have chosen to spend it on your pleasure. I can think of no greater use for a bit of coin."

The rest of the early evening is filled with pleasant chat and the occasional subtle sweet-talk. As you discuss everything you've seen and experienced that day, Lorenz engages you with surprisingly astute comments and observations. He's always at his best when he feels permitted to simply talk with you, as one person to another, free of the pressures and expectations of his birthright that he shoulders without a thought.

The sun is steadily lowering behind the hills and walls of the surrounding town by the time you make your way back together. As you walk hand in hand watching the Monastery gates rise ahead of you, Lorenz clears his throat abruptly and says,

"If I may steal you away for just a little while longer, there was... actually someone I thought you'd like to meet."

"Oh? What an honor," you say with a smile, "Do I get any hints?"

Lorenz gives a good-natured chuckle and says,

"Only that I think you'll get along splendidly."

And of all places throughout Garreg Mach's grounds, you begin to recognize that he is leading you towards the stables. You've met Lorenz's horse before- a lovely mare with a calm and agreeable temperment. If not her, then...

"Eloise?" Lorenz calls out in a gentle voice, "Eloise, come say hello- Ellie? Come now, don't tell me you've chosen tonight to become bashful..." at his call, a svelte black cat with delicate little white paws comes trotting out to meet you. Your heart positively aches and melts at the sight of her eagerly approaching Lorenz with clear comfort and familiarity.

"Lorenz, you... have a cat?" You say with obvious disbelief.

"She's one of the Monastery's strays, to be clear," he says, "She helps with the mice in the stables. Evidently, she had become quite fond of my preferred horse- and so eventually became fond of me as well."

Fond seems an understatement- she very clearly adores him. With a chorus of happy little mews, she circles his legs and rubs against him until he crouches down to offer her his hand. As he does, a shred of parchment flutters from his pocket onto the ground. Eloise targets it like a seasoned warrior and pounces at it with gusto. With a laugh, you kneel down to retrieve whatever this paper she's captured might be.

"Now Eloise, none of that- you must behave genteel-like with guests."

As he firmly lectures the cat, you glance at the paper in your hand. Nearly every inch of it is covered in an elegant, curling script that you imagine must belong to Lorenz. It looks like a... list of some kind. As your eyes scan down the page, you begin to recognize a pattern. Your favorite flowers, favorite desserts, favorite types of books and places around town- plus, to the side, the word "cats?" underlined several times. For a moment, you simply cover your mouth to hold in a snort of laughter. Then, you come to kneel beside Lorenz as he's failing to convince his feline friend to stop swatting at his hair.

"So- you've been taking very thorough notes lately." you say, nudging his arm playfully. He turns to face you with an immediate look of panic. Lavender eyes widen and glance down to the parchment in your hand, then back to you. He visibly deflates and says,

"Goddess- you must find me such a fool-"

You press your lips firmly to his before he can say another word. With a soft noise of surprise, his eyes flutter shut and he leans into your kiss. His lips are wonderfully soft, and the subtle scent of his cologne surrounds your senses as you tilt your head to seal your lips to his more firmly. You're not certain how long you remain like this, but only the dull ache of kneeling on the dirt and the incessant sound of Eloise bapping her paw against the paper in your hand bring you back to your surroundings. When you part from him, you brush aside the silky curtain of his hair to run your hand along his face, and say,

"I had a wonderful time today, Lorenz- and it means the world to me that you put so much thought into this. But next time, you don't have to study so hard, okay?"

For a moment, he seems speechless. Then, he gives a shy chuckle.

"You have bested me yet again, it would seem. How can I ever hope to become a man worthy of you when you are ever more lovely with each passing day?"

Eloise gives an insistent chirp and rubs once more against his leg, evidently tired of distractions from the attention she feels she's owed. Your smile widens, and you scratch her ear fondly.

"I think there's at least two of us who like you just as you are, Lorenz."

#no one's gonna read this why is it so long #fe3h #feh #lorenz hellman gloucester #lorenz x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem imagines #fire emblem fic #fluff #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fluff

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years ago

Text

Thicker Than Water (Part 5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, (here) Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

Happy to announce that Thicker Than Water will be getting a companion piece from Geralt’s POV called The Blood of the Covenant, but probably not for a little while, because it’s still in the very early stages yet.

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The three days to Ard Carraigh were torture for Jaskier, and yet they were almost numb. He’d finished his story for Ciri and was talking less. Part of his brain delighted in it. Talking less would make Geralt like him, he was being good, not being too much. He knew, though, he was just too tired to talk.

It seemed that a weight had taken up residence in his chest. Many weights had, the feeling of being a burden, the constant ache of rejection, but this was a new feeling, cold and heavy and hot all at the same time. He was slower too. Jaskier tried, he tried so hard, but he needed a new cloak and better boots and even with them he got the sense that his body just...couldn’t go any faster.

Since only Geralt had a horse, he’d taken to walking alongside Roach, rather than riding her. Ciri was happy to skip ahead and come back and walk all around so that she probably walked twice the distance Jaskier did. Sometimes she took Jaskier by the hand as if trying to pull him along, and he’d smile at her and trot a few paces to the front of the group, but he just couldn’t manage more.

He wondered if it was because he wasn’t eating much. Jaskier knew he needed food, but he just wasn’t hungry, and wasting food on someone who wasn’t hungry for it wouldn’t get him into Geralt’s good graces.

They day before they reached Ard Carraigh the first snow had fallen. It was tiny and wet and gone by the time the sun was fully above the horizon, but it crunched underfoot and set a chill into Jaskier’s bones. He’d eaten a little more heavily than he had lately at breakfast that day, and he wondered if that was why his body felt so heavy. He was unable to stop himself from falling to the back of their little group, even with Ciri’s coaxing.

Once, when she tugged at his hand he chuckled and jokingly said, “Little lady, please spare an old man such exertion,” with a funny little bow, then exaggeratedly put his hand on his back, as if he were too geriatric to straighten fully. When Ciri giggled at that he mimed hobbling along with a cane, and moving his lips as though he were toothless and gumming at something. She laughed, bright and clear, and even Yennefer smiled. Geralt’s eyebrows lowered, though. It wasn’t an angry face, but it wasn’t a happy one and Jaskier couldn’t parse it out.

As the day wore on Jaskier felt the cold. His traveling cloak had seen too many winters and wouldn’t bear another one. It was patched and dirty and worn so very thin. The wind bit at Jaskier, feeding off of him, feeling like it was freezing the very air inside his lungs. No matter how he tucked his cloak around him, no matter that his doublet was buttoned all the way to his chin, Jaskier felt frozen.

He slowed down, feeling panic rising in his throat. He was too slow, he was going too slow. His mind hurtled backwards in time. Those times that he’d woken up to an empty camp, with Geralt packed up and leaving while he slept. Waking up in inn rooms that had held two people when he fell asleep, only to find himself alone, all of Geralt’s posessions gone.

He was going to get left behind again.

His legs were lead, though. There was very little that hurt more than Geralt leaving him behind, but maybe it would be for the best. He felt like he’d just fall forward onto the frosty ground and stay there. The little family could go on and he could just stay, dissolving into the leaf mold.

Ciri would worry though. She’d come back and take his hand and he knew if he stopped he couldn’t get up again and she’d worry. She might even cry. Making Ciri cry, those big green eyes filling up because of him, that would be worse, even than being left behind. Hurting Ciri would be worse than anything.

Jaskier found a few more steps.

It was like turning a crank handle that never did anything, or riding a horse all day, but every time he thought of Ciri, lip trembling, he could continue.

When it was almost evening he slowed further. He was maybe twenty paces behind Yennefer and Geralt. Yen, despite looking much better, was still not healed, and walked slower than her standard, brisk pace. Geralt, of course, walked at her side. Jaskier considered that twenty paces was good enough. The wind was behind them and it almost seemed to push him forward, digging icy fingers through his cloak.

Part of him fretted for his lute in the cold weather, even inside the case, but what did it matter. He would sell her in less than a day.

He wasn’t going to cry about it. Tears prickled at his eyes but he wouldn’t let them fall. Not one. Because there was Ciri, up ahead, so bright in her Cintran blue cloak. She’d found a stick and was stabbing at imaginary villains. Jaskier would do anything for her. He would make it to Ard Carraigh, he would make it up the mountain and to the keep. He would even sell his lute.

His body had other ideas.

Jaskier stumbled on a root, hidden under fallen leaves. He fell, one knee down, the opposite hand catching him against the ground. It was like Atlas, carrying the world, as if a weight was pressing him down. He couldn’t stand back up.

Ciri trotted over and took his other hand. His fingers were stiff and going blue, but he wrapped his hand around her mitten, which was slightly too big for her hand. He stood, Ciri tugging him slightly.

He smiled wanly at her and she grinned back.

It happened again, though, only a few more paces along. Bumps and ditches that would normally mean nothing overrode his weakening limbs and shaky balence. He stumbled and fell, catching himself again and feeling the cold ground ache his knee where it hit.

His head spun.

Ciri was tugging at his hand but his ears were ringing. Something big and warm wrapped around him. It was slightly rough fabric, and it smelled like horse. Geralt’s cloak was sturdy enough to block the wind and the hood over Jaskier’s head warmed his ears.

Jaskier’s eyes were open but he wasn’t seeing anything. He could feel, though. There were arms around him, warm, big arms, cradling him as easily as if he were a sack of flour. He recognized the feeling, too, from more than a decade ago, when blood had welled from his throat and Geralt had held him. Jaskier felt the lift as Geralt mounted Roach, settling his head into the crook of Geralt’s neck.

“We’ll stay in an inn in Ard Carriagh,” Geralt was saying. Jaskier didn’t care. He was too tired to care even that he was being a burden, because his eyes slid shut and Geralt was holding him as though he were something precious.

As if Jaskier were something to be cared for.

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

Jaskier woke up in an inn room. Alone.

His heart raced, tears welling in his eyes. He’d been a burden. He couldn’t keep up and they’d left him in some inn and moved on. The blankets were suffocating and he kicked them away, getting tangled in them. He could hardly see for the tears in his eyes. They’d left him. He hadn’t been good enough, not fast enough or strong enough and they’d gone. Even Ciri.

“Jaskier?”

Geralt was standing in the doorway.

“Uh, Geralt, hi, wasn’t expecting you here.” It was the truth.

“...I heard your heartbeat.”

Of course, his heart had been beating out of his chest, it was only now calming down.

“Oh, well,” Jaskier said, trying to play it off. “Woke up in this room and I didn’t recognize where I was.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. “You passed out.”

Jaskier hung his head and fought tears again, feeling hot shame seep down his neck. He’d failed. He’d really failed. All that work to not be a burden and it was all down the drain.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his hands. I’ll do better, he thought. I can do better please don’t leave me behind. Please don’t take me off your hands.

He didn’t say it. It was battered and broken and worth very, very little, but he still had some pride.

“You’ve been eating little,” Geralt said. There was an undertone there, a soft undercurrent of something else. Jaskier didn’t know what it meant but he wanted to sink into it and wrap it around himself.

“I just haven’t been hungry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I would faint, I just truly wasn’t hungry.”

Geralt shrugged awkwardly. “We would have stopped here anyway, Ciri needs it.”

“Is she alright? You’re not disguised, is that safe?”

Geralt shook his head. “I am disguised, you can just see through it.” Geralt shook his head again, a little more dramatically, and just for a second it was as if the magic needed time to catch up, and his hair and eyes were dark, a full beard covering his face.

“Woah,” Jaskier said.

“It tired Yen out,” Geralt grunted. “So don’t annoy her.”

Right. With the almost easy companionship and tentative worry Jaskier had almost forgotten. He was just an annoyance.

Jaskier stood, fighting his spinning head. “Right,” he said, glancing out the window at the water light. “Morning, and I have things to do, so...” He picked up his lute in her case and...

And they were in Ard Carriagh. Where Jaskier needed to sell her.

“I might just tune up this lovely lady,” he said, sinking back onto the bed and cradling the case.

“Yen is consulting on an apothecary’s question,” Geralt said. He was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, like at any moment he would either sit down or leave.

“Good for her,” Jaskier said, not looking up from the lute case as he flicked open it’s latches, savoring the familiar click.

“Ciri is with her.”

“That’s good, she’s safe then.” Jaskier dragged his fingers over a scratch on the wood, it was thin and long, but had no effect on her sound.

“So you have to stay with me.”

“Why?” Jaskier let his index finger curl over the lovely inlay work on her front. In his opinion, it was unmatched, but what did he know of wood working?

“To be safe,” Geralt said, still in his odd posture.

“I can take care of myself.” Jaskier, looking down at his lute, felt, rather than saw the skeptical eyebrow raise. “I’ll just eat something and be right as rain, promise.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Fine.”

Jaskier strummed one sweet chord and closed the case. No need to torture himself further. He stood and adjusted his clothes. He’d slept in them, but there was nothing nicer for him to wear. Then, he proceeded down to the taproom on the first floor of the inn. Geralt followed like a shadow. A very tall, broody shadow.

They ate in silence.

The taproom was well packed, but early enough that no one was rowdy. Between the spaces of their unhappy silence, Jaskier could hear the inkeeper complaining about the maid going off to get married and leaving him shorthanded.

It was a while since Jaskier had been to Ard Carriagh, but he had a good memory, and walked quickly through the winding streets to the luthier. His breakfast wasn’t sitting well, it was too much and too little all at once and he felt sick, but he said nothing. Any bard was an actor and Jaskier was the best. He was fine. The luthier’s shop was between a ladies clothing store and a jewelry store, tucked in and not as well kept as the shops on either side.

There was a bell above the door and it jangled as Jaskier stepped in, Geralt just behind.

“Lute strings,” Geralt said, looking around. “Can you afford that.”

“No,” Jaskier said simply. “I’m selling my lute.”

The words burned like acid. The pit of his stomach rolled like he’d swallowed one of Geralt’s disgusting potions, but he knew his face was totally impassive.

Geralt’s however, twisted. It looked like panic, anger, and pain all at once. It looked like Jaskier felt. He almost looked to check that Geralt hadn’t dropped something heavy on his foot to make that face.

“Ooh, you wish to sell,” said the shopkeeper, next to a display of gitara picks. “The case looks very good but let’s see...”

He reached forward. His hands were pale and sweaty, fingers grabbing and outstretched and Jaskier wanted to step back, yearned to clutch his lute case to his chest rather than relinquish his beautiful girl to this man.

He set the case on top of a glass display case instead. The clasps clicked under his unwilling fingers. The lid creaked.

“Oh, what a lute,” the shopkeeper said. He stroked the strings and Jaskier noticed his dirty fingernails. “rather mediocre condition, though...”

Jaskier wanted to audibly scoff. His lute was in mint condition, apart from the single scratch, and he knew it.

Geralt snapped the lid of the case shut, nearly catching the shop owner’s fingers. “He won’t sell it.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t buy it,” the owner protested. “Beautiful lute. Elven made?”

Jaskier nodded grudgingly. It wasn’t fair, but he didn’t like this man.

The shopkeeper hummed. “I thought so, I would probably have the frontal piece,” he opened the case again and traced the wood with the inlay. “Removed. For use on a different lute.”

Chop her up?

Geralt shut the lid again, more carefully this time, but somehow the slower closing felt angrier, rather than calmer.

“He’s not selling. We’re leaving.”

He lifted Jaskier nearly off the ground, taking the case in one arm and gripping the bard by the back of his collar with the other hand. Jaskier spluttered as he was frog marched out of the shop.

“I was going to sell it!” He protested, back out in the watery sunlight. He clutched at his lute case, though, as Geralt pressed it back into his arms.

Geralt’s jaw was tense and his lips were thin.

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“You aren’t selling your lute.”

Jaskier felt guilty and relieved all at once. Here was Geralt saying he didn’t have to sell his lute. He was free of that burden, but they also needed to purchase a cart and supplies. He himself needed a cloak, boots, and gloves. Probably a hat and scarf as well. The pair ambled, unhappily silent yet again, to the center of town. Jaskier glanced at the notice board.

“Ghoul problem,” he noted.

“No.”

“You need a contract, they have a harpy issue too, looks like. Two contracts, Geralt.”

“You have to stay with me--”

“And you won’t take me into danger, blah blah,” Jaskier rolled his eyes. He knew he was being a pest, but two contracts would likely solve their money problem. Hopefully. Not for sure.

“You should go back to the inn,” Geralt said. “I would do the contracts, they’re quick, then get you.”

An idea glimmered in Jaskier’s mind. He yawned. “Yeah,” he said. “That sounds good, I’m pretty tired still.” It wasn’t a lie because Geralt could basically smell those. Going back to the inn did sound good, and Jaskier was definitely still tired.

Geralt huffed, and they walked back to the inn. It was too late for breakfast and early for lunch, so the little taproom was basically deserted. Geralt hummed again, pressed one hand onto Jaskier’s shoulder as if trying to stick him to the floor, then left.

Jaskier walked up to the inkeeper.

“Hi there,” he tried. He was too tired to really flirt, but the inkeeper put down his barcloth at least.

“What?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re a little short handed at the moment...” he let the sentence linger.

The inkeeper scoffed. He was a big, red faced man with red hair to match, and when he scoffed his whole torso moved with it. “You want to do a little work for some coin, then,” he said. He didn’t sound opposed to the idea, though, so Jaskier beamed at him.

“Absolutely sir, I’m a very helpful--”

“I’ll not have you around food,” the man cut in. “That man brought you in half dead and you still look pale. Bad business getting customers sick.”

Oh. Jaskier deflated.

“Got a water barrel needs filling though, so’s long as you don’t cough in the water. Privies need cleaning too.”

They haggled a little over the pay, but Jaskier was a world class haggler. Finally the man slapped his hands on the bar top. “Fine,” he said. “And a meal for you thrown in if you get the privies really clean. One for the little lass too.”

“She eats a lot,” Jaskier warned. He felt it was only fair, considering he would be paid decently for his work. To his surprise the man grinned.

“My youngest does too, eats like a lion and she’s only nine. I’ll have as many helpings as your daughter wants, no problem.”

Jaskier thanked him profusely and the inkeeper waved his hand. “Just consider playing something tonight at supper, brings in customers. And get that privy really clean, mind.”

Jaskier, figuring he wouldn’t find a better deal that day, hightailed it out of there to look at the water barrell.

It was a big barrel. It would need between thirty and fourty buckets of water to fill it, and it was empty right down to the bottom. The well was at the center of town, like wells tended to be, and the inn wasn’t close, but there was a pump in the inn’s yard.. Jaskier sighed, rolled his aching shoulders, rocked slightly on his aching feet, and began to pump.

One bucket at a time, Jaskier filled the water barrell in just under two hours, feeling blisters form on his hands from all the pumping. Then he filled two more buckets and went to the privies.

Yuck.

He sloshed one bucket each into the men’s and women’s privies and went back to the inn to ask for some soap and a scrub brush. Then the real work began. Scrubbing the wooden walls and floors of the fetid outhouses was backbreaking, and of course he had to pause every time a patron wanted to use them, but the grime came off the wood eventually and Jaskier was willing to work hard sometimes. He wasn’t being a burden.

An unintended benefit of the work was that Jaskier’s mind was temporarily taken off of how miserable he felt. HIs chest still rattled a little, and he was tired beyond belief, but maybe all he’d needed was a full meal after all.

It was late afternoon when he fetched the inkeeper to inspect the privies, and the man nodded in approval at them. Then he gave Jaskier one last task.

“Fill that tin tub by the door with water and put it over the fire there,” he said, pointing to one of the two large fires the inn’s kitchen had. “Then haul it upstairs and bathe because you smell like a privy yourself.”

Jaskier grinned tiredly and took the offered coin before doing just that, wincing as his aching muscles protested. When the water was warm but not boiling he took the small tub upstairs to his room and washed what he could. It wasn’t a big enough tub to properly bathe in, but with soap and a rag he managed to at least get clean.

He tipped the tub out and replaced it in it’s spot then curled up in the inn bed in a change of clothes, dozing. He’d been there perhaps a quarter of an hour before Geralt tapped on the door.

Geralt looked at him. “You’re clean,” he said.

Jaskier shrugged. “Struck a deal with the innkeeper. Contracts done?” Geralt held up a bag of coin in answer.

It was odd, he thought. It was like normal, almost. Walking along at Geralt’s side. Several times he had to bite his tongue to keep from commenting on this or that. It was so hard to remember that they weren’t friends, or at least travelling companions. Whatever they had been before the whole...dragon hunt thing. His brain argued that they were still traveling companions now, and it was true, but only in the literal sense. Geralt didn’t want him around.

It got easier to remember because Yennefer rejoined them, Ciri trotting at her heels.

“Julian,” Yennefer said, using his real, more innocuous name. “Cleaned up I see, and dressed in finery,” it was a jab, although not very sharp. His clothes were worn and badly patched. “Going to go cuckold some poor husband?” It was said lightly and Jaskier smiled.

“How do you know I haven’t already,” he said. Yennefer laughed, but Geralt growled.

“Are you and your conquests going to get us thrown out of town?”

Jaskier startled, skittering a few steps away in shock at the low, angry tone. “I was only kidding,” he protested, but he cursed his stupid mouth, always running ahead of his brain. Just like that, it seemed, the brief truce had broken, and he was back to being a shit shoveler once more.

Ciri slipped her mitten into Jaskier’s hand. “Yennefer says I need a hat,” she said.

“I need one too,” Jaskier confided. “Why don’t you and I go get hats and scarves while those two grab other supplies.”

“You aren’t going off on your own,” Geralt growled and Jaskier wanted to flinch, but then Ciri would notice.

“I’d be only a street away,” Jaskier said. “I’ll look after her.”

“Can’t even look after yourself,” Geralt snapped. Jaskier did flinch that time, just a little bit. It was true, though. He was kind of worthless, especially if there was a fight.

“We’ll all go,” Yennefer said, glaring pointedly at Geralt. Jaskier wondered what that was about.

They all went. Jaskier paid for his new cloak, hat, and gloves, and ignored Geralt asking where he got the money.

“Did you steal it?” Gerals said, quietly, so Ciri wouldn’t hear. Jaskier sniffed.

“I’m not a thief.”

Geralt dropped it, but his expression was stormy.

They bought a small cart, light enough for Roach to pull by herself, and some more supplies. Yennefer even bought Jaskier new boots.

“Just giving advice on apothecarial matters is worth a hefty fee,” she explained. “I have plenty of coin.” Pleasantly surprised, Jaskier thanked her. When he tried the boots on in the shop he made a show of how much he liked them, going over the top until he heard Ciri giggle. Mission accomplished, because he made Yen smile too.

Geralt didn’t smile.

Back at the inn Jaskier ate a big dinner, even as his stomach rolled, and delighted in seeing Ciri do the same. They were all well fed, but seeing Ciri’s delight in getting a second helping was worth any amount of blisters, or privies.

He played after dinner, although he barely felt up to doing so, and of course was careful to avoid all mentions of the white wolf. He winked at a few patrons and even the inkeeper just out of habit. Then he ended his set early.

“Any reviews?” he asked his table, cheekily. “Three words or less?”

“Tolerable,” Yen said, smiling widely. She looked younger when she did that.

“Great,” Ciri chimed in.

“Should’ve sold it,” Geralt grunted. Jaskier felt ice slip down his spine.

“What?”

“Should’ve sold the lute,” Geralt growled, lowly.

Jaskier’s fingers wrapped around the strap his lute hung from, feeling hurt well up like spring water.

“No,” Yen snapped. “You two go outside and sort that out, I’m not dealing with it. Ciri and I will finish our dinner while you idiots figure this out between yourselves.”

Jaskier obeyed, feeling the heat of shame and hurt in his face and longing for some fresh air. Geralt lumbered out behind him.

The night was cold and felt icy against Jaskier’s burning face but he turned to Geralt fuming.

“What the hell,” he said. “You tell me not to sell the lute, then you make me sit at the inn all day like a child, then you tell me I should have sold it after all? Do you hate me that much or do you just like seeing me do things wrong?”

“Better you sell the lute than whore yourself,” Geralt growled.

That was so far from what Jaskier was expecting that he actually stepped back. “What?”

“Struck a deal with the innkeeper? All that coin? And you move like your knees are bruised,” Geralt said, jaw moving tightly.

“I didn’t have sex with the inkeeper!” Jaskier said, half amused. “I didn’t have sex with anyone. I thought we needed the money, so I cleaned the privies, that’s why my knees are stiff. My hands are sore too!”

Geralt took one hand and turned it over to see the red, irritated skin.

“You--?”

“No,” Jaskier interrupted. “I don’t care what you have to say.” Even though he did, he cared so much. “First of all, don’t pretend that there is anything wrong with prostitution, we both know you visit those ladies from time to time. Second, even if I was having sex with someone, for money or not, it isn’t any of your business, and third, nothing about your assumptions gives you any right to be so...so rude!”

Jaskier was ashamed to feel tears leaking from his eyes but right now he was angry, so angry and hurt, so he just kept going.

“I am sorry,” he said, softly. “That life couldn’t give you the blessing you wanted, but the least you could do is not make this worse for both of us.”

Jaskier turned on his heel and went back to his room, where he curled up and cried himself to sleep.

He was awoken later by a tap on the door. It was Yennefer and Ciri standing in the hallway.

“She wants to be with you,” Yennefer said.

Ciri sat on the bed and looked up at Jaskier with wide eyes. Jaskier sat next to eachother.

“Dandelion,” Ciri said, using her special name for Jaskier. “Do you hate Geralt?”

Jaskier sighed and hugged her close. “Not at all,” he said, truthfully. “But it’s like I said, bards aren’t welcome forever, it’s just how it is, and I’ve overstayed my welcome a little bit.”

“No you haven’t,” Ciri said into his shoulder. “I think you’re welcome. I want you around.”

“Thank you, little highness.”

“Geralt doesn’t hate you, I’m sure of it, he was really worried about you when you fainted.”

“He worries about everyone, that’s just the way he is,” Jaskier said. Geralt had a big heart, even if those feelings came out gruffly, he was a real hero. He just couldn’t stand Jaskier so long as Jaskier was concious.

“When my grandmother was worried,” Ciri began. “She could seem sort of mean, she’d yell or snap and it was scary unless you knew that she was just scared. Maybe Geralt was scared for you.”

Jaskier wished it was so. Could almost believe it was true. Ciri didn’t know about the dragon hunt though. She didn’t know he was a shit shoveler. Didn’t know about Geralt’s unfulfilled blessing.

Jaskier curled on his side, letting Ciri bury her head into his shoulder until she fell asleep. Eventually, face solemn but eyes dry, Jaskier slept too.

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I promise, I PROMISE Geralt isn’t trying to be an asshole. Like I said, I intend to write this from his POV as well, he’s just worried for Jaskier and thought that Jaskier had prostituted himself, despite his illness, becuase he wanted to earn them money. Geralt felt so guilty that Jaskier would do that and, well, he’s not good with emotions and can’t control his tone well, so it came out like he hates Jaskier. He just loves him very much and is very worried about him. He also thinks Jaskier hates him because he tried to sell his lute, which Geralt also sees as a tie between him and Jaskier, so it hurt his feelings.

Tag List!

@frywen-babbles @mordoriscalling @thedarkestangel1 @kerfufflezz @samukai @charlies-dragon @live-long-and-trek-on @holymotherwolf @morte-mistrata @mewithanie @sharondn @stinastar @ionlylikemycat @annafortoday

#the witcher #angst #heavy angst #ADHD Jaskier #Geralt is bad with emotions #Ciri #Mountain Fix-it #sort of #not yet #Yennefer is a good mom #and deserves nice things #yennefer #cirilla fiona elen riannon #future geraskier #they've got things to work out first though

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