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doctenwho · 3 years ago

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Man (and TARDIS)’s Best Friend

Hey! Thanks so much for the request, I had a lot of fun with this one! Most of the dogs in this fic are either dogs I had when I was little (and currently) and a few are my friend’s dogs.

The TARDIS being a troublemaker is my new favorite thing, so hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,700

Summary: Check out the prompt above :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the rightful creator!)

In your defense, things had probably gotten out of hand. You really hadn’t meant for it to happen, for one to turn into two, two into three and... well, three into seven.

It really had started with one.

Just a few weeks ago. You were on earth, which, for it being your home planet, you didn’t tend to spend much time around anymore. You and the Doctor hadn’t exactly split up, but he’d left you to your own devices while he went off doing whatever it was he was doing on earth. The man had an agenda, and earth was the only place you didn’t mind being by yourself on.

It was later in the evening, street lights illuminating the darkness around you as you strolled. It was nice to just be back on earth for a while, where you knew the terrain, and the people. Where things weren’t completely surprising, or shocking.

You’d been so caught up in your own head as you wondered around, you’d barely noticed the creature cowering on the sidewalk that you tripped over. The creature whimpered, and winced down, and it instantly broke your heart.

You’d always been an animal person, sympathizing with those neglected, or abandoned, or abused. You couldn’t imagine ever intentionally hurting, or leaving a pet alone, so this was hard to see.

The dog, you realized, stared at you fearfully. Cowering down like you were going to hit it. It was an older dog, dirty and scruffy, some kind of shih-tzu mutt if you were to guess. Its fur was matted, clearly left to on his own for a while at this point.

You didn’t even want to think about what this dog had been through, just from his attitude towards humans, as well as it’s neglected state. He’d obviously been abandoned—maybe grown too old and lost that cute ‘puppy’ image that some people craved. The thought disgusted you.

The poor little guy was skin and bones, shivering where he was tucked in on himself despite his coat of matted fur that was probably too warm for even the late-night chill.

You knew you couldn’t leave him. Not in good conscious. He obviously needed someone—he needed a person to care for him, and do the right thing for him, which is... well, it’s how you found yourself sneaking into the TARDIS with the poor little dog swaddled in your sweater.

The Doctor wasn’t much of an animal person. He’d never outright said it, but you’d never really seen him interacting with creatures. Not like how a human would love and care for a stray dog, or cat. He never seemed the type.

You weren’t sure how he was going to react to the dog.

You moved swiftly through the TARDIS, your little companion wiggling in your grip as you snuck through the TARDIS halls. You weren’t even sure if the Doctor was in, or out.

“(Y/N)?” His voice called from behind you. The bundle in your arms froze, as did you as you debated your options. You were a ways away from your bedroom—the safety of it where you could clean up the little dog and think of a better plan than to be caught in the hallway with a stowaway in the Doctor’s space and time machine.

The Doctor’s steps were approaching, following behind you. He was so close. You turned to look behind you, afraid he’d catch up and you’d have to explain the dog so soon. You squeezed your eyes shut, thinking about making a break for it as you turned forwards again--

And there before you, was a doorway. Which didn’t make sense, because you’d been in the hallway, at least twenty steps away from your bedroom door, if not more. You knew for a fact there wasn’t any doorways for a while, because this corridor often felt endless. You looked around in confusion, frowning to yourself as you let your hand settle on the doorknob.

“(Y/N)?” The Doctor called again, confused, and so much closer than before. You barely had a second thought as you pulled the door open, tumbling in as your feet moved before your brain could process the action.

The door shut behind you, which you had absolutely no part in as you tried to finally catch your footings, arms securing around the bundled dog. It was only when you looked up to see where you ended up that you realized you were in you room.

It didn’t make a lick of sense, but you were quick to settle the dog into your closet as you heard steps approaching, managing to jump onto the bed and pretend to be reading a book that was on your bedside table just as the door opened.

The Doctor furrowed his brows at you, gaze looking from the book in your hands, up to your face in confusion, “I could’ve sworn I just saw you returning to the TARDIS,” the Doctor commented, voice almost distasteful as he eyed you.

“Nope,” you forced out, hoping you didn’t sound as much like you were hiding something as you did to your own ears, “been here a while, Doctor.”

The man casted his eyes around the room again, looking for anything out of the ordinary, before he settled on you again, clearly coming up short.

“Uh huh, well, we’ll be leaving shortly if you’re good to go?” he blinked, leaning just the slightest bit against the doorframe, and giving the room another thoughtful onceover.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered out, cursing your anxious nerves internally before flashing the man a grin to hide you panic.

“Alright, well,” The Doctor frowned as he moved to pull the door shut behind him. He paused before it shut, standing for a second before he spoke again, “I was unaware humans could read upside down.”

The door clicked shut, and it was only then you let out a breath, eyes snapping down to the book you were indeed holding upside down. You groaned to yourself as you righted the book before dropping it back on the bedside table annoyed at that tiny detail that could’ve ruined it all.

You pushed yourself off the bed, moving swiftly to the closet where you pulled the door open and smiled down at the nervous little dog. He was still mostly wrapped in your sweater, but his head and shoulder were exposed.

“C’mon,” you offered your arms, “let’s get you clean up, huh?”

The dog only hesitated for a second before moving close enough for you to pick up. You cradled him in your arms, pressing your cheek against his head as you stared up at the ceiling for a second.

You weren’t entirely sure what had happened just then, but you know one thing. You definitely hadn’t done it alone.

“Thank you,” you smiled up to the ceiling, knowing exactly who’d helped you protect the little dog.

----

You’d given the little dog the name Teddy. He’d been a nervous wreck when you’d been snipping away at his matted fur with the scissors in your bathroom, but he’d warmed up to you a lot while you bathed him warm water with a sweet-smelling dog shampoo that was, confusingly enough, hidden away in the bathroom cabinet.

The name had only really come to be when bedtime rolled around, and you found yourself with a cuddly, snuggly little dog tucked in your arms. It was like snuggling with a teddy bear, and you couldn’t imagine naming him anything else as you stroked his ears as he slept.

You really had just meant to leave it at Teddy, and see how long you could get away with hiding him away in your room. You snuck him food from the kitchen, set down a bowl of water in the bathroom, as well as a bowl of kibble that you had absolutely no idea where it had come from. You suspected the TARDIS helping you out where she could, and the thought made you smile.

It was almost a game at this point, and it was a funny thought that it appeared to be you and the TARDIS against the Doctor. Finally, the odds seemed a bit more well-rounded.

Hunny and Saidy had come into your life unexpectedly.

You knew the two German Shepherd Rottweiler mixes well. You’d gotten the call from your friend, the one who owned the two, that she could no longer keep them. She was being evicted, and it was quite hard to find a flat that would allow someone to have two medium-big sized dogs.

You knew you really shouldn’t take them—but you knew the girls, and they loved you, and the thought of them being rehomed, or given to the pound or something else just because no one wanted to take them made a weight settle in your stomach. The thought of them being separated tore at your heart.

You weren’t sure where you were going to keep them, as you walked into the TARDIS holding both a pink and purple lead as you led them into the time and space machine. The girls were quiet, silent besides their paws tapping on the floor, as well as their panting as you led them along.

You bit your bottom lip as you opened your door, stepping in quickly as you ushered them in, before closing the door and leaning your back against it. When you looked up, your jaw dropped.

Your room was double the size it had been before. Three food bowls, and three dog beds—one small, and two big enough for Hunny and Saidy to sprawl out on. It warmed your heart to see, the effort the TARDIS was going through to make room for the dogs was honestly adorable.

There’d been that inkling of worry that you wouldn’t have enough room to house these dogs and that you’d need to start rehoming them.

You grinned up at the ceiling, “you go, TARDIS,” you laughed out as you kneeled to scratch at both Hunny and Saidy, then, to the dogs, you continued, “welcome home, girls.”

Teddy wagged his tail happily from the bed, hopping down to greet the new dogs, and you were overjoyed to see them all getting along.

----

Gizmo was not a dog. Well, he wasn’t an earth dog, at least. You and the Doctor had been on a planet in a universe you hadn’t even known existed when the two of you stumbled upon a pack of little creatures.

They were babies, you could see.

You’d never seen anything quite like them. They were tiny—like teacup chihuahuas, fluffy like them too. They were a bit bigger than palm sized, and you were sure they didn’t weigh much more than half a pound, if that. They almost... well, they kind of resembled dragons too. It was like an earth dog and a dragon procreated.

Their colours were vibrant, an orange one with purple markings, a green one with red patches. One tri-coloured one, which was two different shades of blue with patches of white.

They were rainbow chihuahua-dragon hybrids.

The babies flocked around you and the Doctor, attempting to crawl up your shins. They made little sounds of excitement, not quite a bark, but close enough, and you instantly fell in love with them.

“Awh!” You swooned, kneeling down so the small creatures could finally make their way up you. You’d learned early on to only be afraid of things if the Doctor appeared to be afraid of it—or if it was threatening you with weaponry, or violence. The Doctor never really seemed afraid of that. “What are they?”

“Tricos,” the Doctor huffed, crouching down so he was lower, but not quite at an angle for the little creatures to crawl on him. “They’re easily domesticated creatures, but are more-so viewed as nuisances by the locals.”

You frowned, looking down at all the little faces. They didn’t act much different than puppies on earth would. “Why do the locals not like them? They’re like little dragon-dogs—look at how cute!” You grabbed the blue and white one under the arms and hoisted him up for the Doctor to see his face.

“Well,” the Doctor clicked his tongue, crinkling his nose at the little Trico, “They’re scavengers. Like earth raccoons and rodents. Besides, they don’t quite have the intelligence for violence, so they’re pretty low on the food chain. Some locals have domesticated them, but lots don’t want to put in the effort.”

“Well,” you stuck your bottom lip out in a pout, “I like them.”

“I know,” the Doctor’s smile was small, his hand reaching out to stoke one of the Trico’s backs, before he was standing up again, “well, c’mon then. We can stay here all day. There’s things to be done.”

You pouted, taking the Trico’s off your lap one by one, petting them before settling them on the ground before you were standing as well, ducting yourself off. You looked back at them, frowning as you waved before you followed after the Doctor.

It was only when you were tucked away in your room that evening, surrounded by Teddy, Saidy and Hunny that you noticed the sweater you’d shrugged off and tossed onto your bed shift as if something was in it. You froze, watching the sweater move, as the dogs around you growled—Teddy being the only one confident enough to draw closer.

Your heart stopped for just a second as Teddy sniffed the sweater, only to cry out in surprise as the little blue and white Trico’s head peeked out from under the folds of the sweater, tiny tail wagging against the weight of the sweater.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you laughed away the fear, sliding off the bed to kneel beside the sweater. The Trico’s nose pushed into your cheek, before it gave you a lick like earth dogs did when they liked someone. “Have you been hanging on all day?” You asked, knowing the creature wouldn’t respond now that his attention was locked onto Teddy, who was reversing cautiously towards the girls.

“It’s alright,” you hushed the dogs, offering your palm to the Trico; the little creature didn’t hesitate for a second before pulling himself up, tail whipping back and forth happily as he did so—and you could see a bit of the lack of intelligent the Doctor had mention, but it just warmed your heart. “It’s okay.”

The dogs took the evening to get used to the little Trico who you named Gizmo. You’s fallen asleep boxed in by German Rotties, with Teddy tucked against your side, and the tiny little Trico snuggled up on your chest.

That following morning, you found a book on Trico knowledge and care instructions on your bedside table and whispered a hushed thank you to the TARDIS as you propped it open and read about the newest addition to your dog pack.

----

After the Trico, you weren’t entirely sure how you’d managed to find Chloe, Bella and Cohen. They were a package deal, Chloe, an older Pitbull, who’d trailed behind you, hesitant but trusting all the same as if you gave off some kind of calming pheromone that attracted dogs in need. She walked slow with Bella and Cohen following behind her like ducklings.

Bella was a French bulldog, and you weren’t entirely sure why someone would abandon such an expensive dog so young, but you’d taken her in easily. Cohen was the smallest of the three, a chihuahua mix that pressed in tight against the Pitbull.

They were all strays down on earth, and you’d just happened to stumble upon them while the Doctor was chasing some alien criminal around for the safety of earth. You almost felt bad sneaking away to lead the trio of dogs into the TARDIS where she welcomed them with open arms, and three additional dog bowls, and a huge cushion that the three of them could curl up on.

“I knew you were up to something,” You spun quickly, mouth dropped in a hurried attempt to get something out as the Doctor stood with his arms crossed in the doorway, scowl on his face.

Before you could say anything, your bedroom door slammed shut, much to your own surprise, and the Doctor’s as well, who you could hear jumping back in shock.

“TARDIS,” you gasped, attention shooting up to the ceiling.

“(Y/N),” The Doctor’s voice travelled through the door, as the knob turned but wouldn’t open. “What in the world?”

You almost would’ve laughed if you weren’t busy ushering all the dogs into your adjoining bathroom and closing them in. You tried to make yourself look natural, standing awkwardly in front of your bathroom door, and it was only then that your bedroom door finally open, the Doctor stumbling in like it had pushed open as he’d been leaning on it.

“What,” he gasped out as he tried to regain his footings, “is going on here?”

“Nothing,” you squeaked out.

You’d known that at some point you wouldn’t be able to hide the dogs anymore. You knew the Doctor was clever, and you were actually a bit surprised it had taken him this long to figure you out. But that didn’t mean you weren’t afraid that it was happening now—you'd been holding on the idea that it would happen eventually.

The Doctor stepped more into the room so he couldn’t be locked out again, where he eyed everything in your room, his gaze settled on the dog beds and food bowls. His gaze raised from the beds and dishes to your face, where his features were unreadable.

He was a smart man, so he obviously knew what he was looking at when he asked: “what’s all this?”

You couldn’t seem to come up with a logical explanation besides the truth. But you still stuttered over your words.

“What’s in the bathroom?” the Doctor asked calmly, stepping closer to you, as you stepped back, blocking the bathroom door more urgently.

“W-what bathroom?” You asked dumbly, but to your surprise, the Doctor’s eyebrows shot up as he angled his head to look around you. You turned to look back at the door, stumbling away as you blinked at the now vacant bathroom entry. You gaped, glancing towards the ceiling before focusing back on where the bathroom should be.

The TARDIS never ceased to amaze you.

The Doctor’s face was pressed into a look of uncertainty as he stared at where the bathroom door should be. It was the most shocked you’d seen the Doctor in all the time you’d known him. His gaze fluttered in your direction, where his eyes narrowed on your shoulder, “that’s a Trico on your shoulder.”

It wasn’t a question. You hand flew up, where it indeed settled on the tiny little creature. You groaned aloud as Gizmo made a similar noise. You should’ve known he was going to cling to your clothes as you tried to get them all into the bathroom—that was how he found himself a home here.

“I knew I heard barking,” the Doctor’s eyes blinked rapidly like he was trying to understand, “and it certainly wasn’t him—” the Doctor’s gaze settled on the Trico, “what else do you have in here?”

You let out a long sigh, moving towards where the bathroom door should be. “The jig is up,” you called loudly, and almost immediately; the bathroom door was back. You ignored the mystified look on the Doctor’s face as you pulled the door open and the dogs all trotted out, barely batting an eye at the Doctor’s shock.

“You’ve brought dogs into my TARDIS,” the Doctor had a distant look in his eyes, “my TARDIS helped you hide these dogs from me. How did you turn my TARDIS against me?”

“I didn’t turn her against you,” you huffed, voice bordering on annoyed, “she just has a soft spot for dogs, I guess.”

You instantly felt bad, swallowing before you mended your words, “it really did start with just one, and then... well, how can you say no to them? Look at their little faces. And... I think the TARDIS really likes them too, because she’s been helping me out.”

“You stole a Trico--”

“Hey!” You frowned, “technically, the Trico stole himself. I didn’t know he was clinging to my sweater when we returned, he was just there. Look... I’m sorry.”

The dogs had all mad their way up to the bed, laying and watching the exchange. The little Trico though, refused to move from your shoulder. “They all just needed a place to be, like... like I did too when you found me. Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” the Doctor’s voice was low, “frankly, I’m just a bit confused about why the TARDIS is so keen on these pets.”

“She’s a dog person—err, uhm, a dog time and space machine?”

The Doctor let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I suppose she is. She’s always had a soft spot for misfits.”

The Doctor doesn’t look unhappy, or upset. He looks thoughtful as his gaze sweeps over the dogs, lingering on both you and the Trico before he’d looking back to the earth dogs, “quite the collection.”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “so, uh, can we... can we keep them?”

“How long have they been here?”

“Teddy- the uh, the little white one- has been here about a month. Since that earth visit.”

“A month,” the Doctor’s face scrunched up, almost in disbelief, “I don’t see why not then. I doubt I have to tell you they’re your responsibility, which I’m sure isn’t a problem considering they already have been for an upwards of a month, right?”

“The TARDIS has been helping too,” you remind, smile slowly crawling onto your face.

“I’m only allowing this because the TARDIS is so keen,” the Doctor informs, but you can see through his words. He always has a hard time saying no to you, the TARDIS just sealed the deal for him. “You’re lucky I love you,�� his gaze casts upwards and his smile appears a little crooked, “the both of you.”

<><><><>

Trico is the name of the Last Guardian, who wasn’t quite the inspiration behind the hybrid alien dogs, but I was picturing them looking a bit like Trico as I was writing. Body wise, at least, and I’m awful at naming things, and thought Trico would be a cool species name :). I thought an alien dog would be fun, since they travel space lol

As always, if this wasn’t what you were looking for, feel free to prompt again! I hope you enjoyed, because I really enjoyed writing this one :D Thanks for taking the time to prompt, and to read my writing, it means a lot!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #ten #10 #doctor who 2005 #doctor who #TARDIS #fanfiction #fanfic #writing prompt #writing requests #dw

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hedgiwithapen · 2 years ago

Note

They're just kids. Referring to Jon and Mike.

(could be seen as a companion to “intergang has Jon” HERE but could also be its own thing :) )

Mike finished using the pencil nub he’d found in his right sneaker to scrawl on the wall above his “bunk.” Mike was here was right above If you can read this, you can read. He was bored. How long did it take to plan a rescue mission and fly to wherever-the-heck-Kansas? Like, a half hour tops. Courtney owed him a milkshake if she made him wait any longer. At a scuffling outside the door to his cell, Mike perked up. “In here!” he called. “Shut your yap,” was the only response. Mike deflated slightly. “Let me out!” “Shut. up. Or I’ll make you,” Mike was pretty sure the voice belonged to the big guy who’d grabbed him. He still wasn’t sure why. He hadn;t been snooping around the cars his Dad was fixing. Ok, he hadn’t been snooping much. He’d just noticed the inhalers, and thought, “hey

Maybe the driver’s medication shouldn’t be loose, I’ll let them know so they don’t lose it. Oh shit, that guy’s about to die and I have his medicine, you’re welcome.” It was like a good deed, right? Heroes did that kind of thing all the time. Help little old ladies cross streets and rescue cats from trees and helpfully grab inhalers when someone starts having an asthma attack on account of all the smoke on account of ok, so maybe he’d had too much fun with the flamethrower on STRIPE and his dad had rushed into the back to fix it. He’d reached into the car, handed the coughing guy the inhaler and bam. Trunk of a car, and then this bunker. 1/10, not the best field trip ever (though so far better than the 5th grade trip to a salmon hatchery.) “I didn’t do anything AND I didn’t see you do anything,” Mike continued. “So really this is fine. You just let me out, I pretend I ran away for a couple hours, no one goes to jail, I don’t miss my math test.” a lie on both counts, Mike absolutely planned on making the JSA put these guys away for, like, ever, and also using his kidnapping as an excuse to skip school for at least two days of recovery time. Maybe three.

“I said shut up, both of you!” “Eh, just leave it.” A second goon said from the hall. “They’re just kids, we’ve got shit to do.” A door slammed, a heavy metal clang echoing loud enough that it hurt Mike’s ears. When it died away, he could hear just the faintest footsteps. He slumped against the wall a little. “Both, huh?” Mike asked. “Who’s over there?” If it was Courtney, he was legally obligated to laugh at her getting caught instead of saving him before they figured a way out. The answer, when it came, slipped through the vent at the top on the wall of his cell. Mike made an incredibly cursory attempt at climbing up to it before deciding that was pointless. “Uh…Jon.” “Is that a nickname or a fake name, are we doing fake names?” “What? Why would we be doing that, who’s we?” Definitely another teenager, possibly named Jon said back. “No reason, I don’t know, I’ve never been kidnapped with anyone before. I mean kidnapped before.” Mike said. “I’m Mike. Why’d they grab you?” “I don’t know, why’d they grab you?” “Not a clue.” A beat of silence before the other kid--Jon-- said “That’s probably not going to help us get out, is it?” “No,” Mike said, almost cheerful. “I think I’m here because I found some dude’s weird inhaler and he thought I saw something else. I’m pretty sure anyways. I’m between nemesis at the moment. That was a joke, I don’t have nemeses.” “... the inhaler thing, was it yellow?” “Yeah, I think so.” Mike started eyeing the hinges on the cell door. It opened inwards, which was real stupid. He’d still need a screwdriver and a lever, but hey. MacGyver reruns had been on all Saturday while Courtney and her friends had been busy. “That was it, then. Intergang’s dealing drugs with them.” Mike groaned. “I got kidnapped because some dumb drug dealer stopped for a tire change?”

“...if it helps they’re XK. Super drugs?” Jon offered, his voice tilting up like he was genuinely trying to be helpful.. “That’s a little cooler.” Mike agreed. “So how’d you know that?” “I..uh.. My …mom might have pissed them off trying to stop them.” “Gotcha. Who’s your mom?” Mike chafes at the hesitation before ‘Jon’ answers. “Lois Lane.” Mike’s pretty sure he’s heard that name before. Or read it. Somewhere. “Oh! Newspaper lady. I have a paper route.” Jon huffs a laugh. “Yeah. So, obviously that’s not great.” Mike hums. “Yeah. Being just leverage sucks ass. I mean. From what I’ve read. In comic books. Not, like, that I’d know. Or anything.” “You know it’s really obvious that you’re lying, right?” “Really? Ok, so it’s not my first time getting kidnapped. It’s my… third, technically. And let me tell you, still not fun.” “Technically not my first either,” Jon admitted. “Listen, we can’t count on getting rescued. They have this place totally shielded in lead.” Mike wasn’t sure what lead had to do with stopping Dr. Midnite from tracking him, or Wildcat from clawing the shit out of pesky things like doorlocks. “Well that doesn’t seem safe. Isn’t lead poisonous?” “Are you planning on licking the walls outside? Also I don’t think intergang cares.” “Point. Hmm.” Mike started fishing through his pockets. Gum wrapper, a pen, his wallet with all of six dollars in it, plus his school ID, and… “Wow. Are these guys idiots? They feel like idiots.” “What makes you say that?” “I have a plan.” Getting the hinges actually out was harder than expected, even with the little fold flat ,multitool Court had given him after the whole Cindy Incident, but not impossible. Leveraging open the door was another matter. “I’m pretty strong,” Jon offered. “Maybe I can get mine?” So Mike slipped the tool through the vent. “You better get me out too, though,” he warned, listening to the god-awful whine of metal on metal. Jon’s cell had apparently been actually furnished, which meant furnishings to use as a lever. Sure enough, a couple agonizing minutes later, a metal slat was shoved through the tiny gap between door and frame. “ I’ll work it from the outside, you try from yours,” Jon hissed. “Fast.” As soon as there was enough of an opening Mike shoved through, sweating just as much as the other kid was. They ran, rounding a turn. Mike drew up short with a yelp, Jon right on his heels. Two goons blocked the hall. “Dad,” Jon whispered. “I need you.” Mike wanted to call for his dad, too. The same thug who’d grabbed him shook his head, unclipping a weapon from his belt. “I thought I told you to stay put and behave. This didn’t have to go bad for you.” The second guy made a sour face. “Big boss had to know they’d try something. Keep ‘em separated next time.” “Kids need to do as they're told,” the first man said, his grip tightening on the gun. Jon tensed. Mike’s mouth went dry, staring. No one had ever pointed a gun at him before. “So there won’t be a next time.” He pulled the trigger.

#Dammit Hedgi Day #Dammit Hedgi Day 2022 #Superman&lois #Stargirl #Mike Dugan #Jon Kent #Intergang

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rikumorimachisgirl · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Eyes on you

Pairing: Shaw x You

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,901

A/N: You (Y/N) are not the MC in MLQC. This is a plunny that's been bugging me for quite a while, I had to write it. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own MLQC or its characters, but I do own the concept of this fic.

There were a few mysteries in this world that the esteemed Archeology Graduate Professors at Loveland University can't explain - for instance, the formation of the Stonehenge, the exact location of the lost city of Atlantis, the origin of the Nazca lines… and your presence at the Metro Art Gala dressed to the nines, positively gleaming as you strode arm in arm with your classmate and Thesis partner Shaw, who seemed like the perfect gentleman that evening. Thanks to your work at the Loveland Museum, you scored two invites to the gala featuring the recently discovered works of a well-known artist - an event any Archeology fanatic wouldn't let pass. The two of you walked along with LFG's Exhibition Hall, pausing occasionally to admire one of the recently discovered sculptures by the Renaissance artist D'Romani. As you both looked at the intricacies of the artwork in front of you, your charming companion would lean in slightly and whisper something in your ear, causing you to roll your eyes or stifle a giggle.

To the guests in the prestigious gala, the two of you looked like two young people at the cusp of falling in love, but the members of the Faculty of the Graduate School of Archeology saw it differently - this was a real-life mystery if they'd seen one.

As your eyes swiftly swept through the entire room, you could see that your professors only had one question in mind - how'd this happen? How did two people as different as day and night, who argued with each other throughout Graduate studies, end up amiably enjoying each other's company tonight?

You drew a sharp breath and sighed. The answer was simple: Your Thesis defense was right around the corner. You needed him to cooperate, you were willing to go to great lengths to make it happen. And your Thesis partner (unfortunately) was ready to take full advantage of the situation.

***

"Tell me why we're doing this again, " you said through the door that separated you and your date, as you were putting on the dress you bought (or invested on, as he casually stated) for tonight's gala, which he insisted on attending with you. It was six in the evening on a Friday, and you had just arrived home after cramming your workload at the Loveland Museum and foregoing your meal breaks just so you could leave work at exactly five-thirty.

"I already told you a couple of times - you want me to cooperate with you so you can pass our Thesis, and I need a reason to be around her," the purple-haired man waiting at the other side of your bedroom door called out nonchalantly. "You can drop your fantasy about me asking you out because I'm attracted to you."

You hissed silently at his snarky remark and counted to ten. You haven't even left your apartment yet you already wanted this night to be over. "How do you even know she's gonna be there?"

She - the Miracle Finder Producer, the object of your Thesis Partner's fantasies, and as fate would have it, his brother's girlfriend.

"They're doing a show featuring our Thesis adviser. Didn't he tell us about it during our last consultation?" He asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I wasn't listening," you shot back, as you took off your ponytail and started styling your hair with your curling iron. You chose a one-shoulder fitted black dress that stops right above your knees, so you thought of wearing your hair down for a change.

"Ah, yes. You were too busy looking at your notes, trying to prove me wrong as always."

You closed your eyes, as you continued to make big beach waves and prayed to the gods you wouldn't commit murder tonight.

"How much longer are you gonna take?"

"Excited much?" You asked, smirking while you now removed your glasses and put on your contacts. "You sound like a teenager excited to see his crush in a school fair!"

"Don't compare me to you!"

"I don't have designs on anyone in the party," you called back. "Unless your brother's attending the event, that is. From what you've been telling me, he seems like a great guy."

Silence. You arched an eyebrow as you strained your ear to listen for any sign of life outside your bedroom door. What must your grunge-rock skater boy-turned-date-for-the-evening be thinking?

"Do you want to pass our Thesis or not?"

You struck a victory pose at his remark. Finally, one point - you, Shaw - about twenty.

"Are you done yet? This suit is really uncomfortable. Damn, why do people even wear these?"

"Because they're decent?" You shot back. "You know, you can always go home if you're not comfortable in your attire because when we get there, you need to act decent, too. Can't have your usual swagger in a formal affair."

"Just hurry it up already!"

You rolled your eyes as you applied your nude-colored lipstick to finish off your look before putting on your black stilettos, and stuffing your phone, wallet, and your makeup in your purse.

"All done," you replied, as you finally emerged from your room.

***

A part of you wished that the dynamics between you and Shaw were different. While he was a pain in the neck, and too carefree for his own good, you also thought he made for a good intellectual sparring partner, quite attractive, and it was hard to deny that he's got your heart beating double-time whenever he got too close for comfort like he was at that very moment.

"My, you two kids seem to be having fun tonight."

You gasped, at the sound of the voice behind you, and you felt your date nudge you ever-so-subtly while straightening.

"Hey, Professor Adler," he said in his usual unruffled tone, his lips stretched into a smirk as he held his hand out to your Anthropology professor and Thesis adviser, who watched you both amusedly. His gesture made your eyes shot wide open, you thought they'd fall right off. Shaw shaking someone's hand? That's one for the books.

"Shaw. Fancy seeing you here," the stout middle-aged man greeted while shaking your date's hand. "This isn't your usual scene though."

"Yeah, I know, but I can't exactly turn a pretty lady down, can I?"

"I can see that," your professor said as he looked at you appraisingly. "Well, well, you clean up well, Miss (y/n)."

You fought the urge to squirm at the older man's words when you heard your date cluck his cheeks with his tongue and suddenly felt his arm around your shoulders, pressing you protectively close to his side.

***

"All done!" You happily announced as you stepped into the living room of your small apartment where your date was impatiently waiting for you.

You could've sworn he was stunned for a second or two before he shook his head and tried to regain his usual impassive expression. Finally, he stood and walked closer to assess you better.

"You're not wearing your glasses. I thought you said you're practically blind without them?"

You cocked your head to one side. Out of all the things he could've complimented or called out, that's the first thing he noticed?

"Wouldn't it look awkward if I wore glasses to a formal event?"

"Your hair is all curly," he continued as if you didn't say anything. "And your shoes are so tall, won't you trip? Also, surely you have a jacket to go with that dress, right?"

You stared at him in disbelief. Why did this carefree, bass-playing skater boy turn into your dad all of a sudden?

"Uh…"

"Well, at least you're not wearing red lipstick. You don't have to try too hard to look sexy. Geez! I've got plans of my own this evening, so don't expect me to be your bodyguard," he continued to mumble as he circled around you. Before long, you felt something warm and heavy on your shoulder. His coat?

"It's just until we get to the venue," he shrugged as he led you to the car he borrowed for tonight. "I don't want people seeing you freeze to death."

You sighed, your shoulders slumped as you followed your date to the car. You already expected he wouldn't throw you a compliment for looking like a proper human tonight, and you cursed yourself for feeling gutted over it anyway.

***

"So, which one of these sculptures did you like best, Professor?" You sighed in relief as Shaw changed the subject, his arm still wrapped around you, making you blush furiously.

"Oh, I have to say I liked Eros and Psyche best. In case you haven't seen it yet, it's located a little further down the hall near the bar area," the older man was starting to explain when someone tapped his shoulder from behind.

"Excuse me, Professor Adler," a gentle voice called out, making both the professor and Shaw jump. From behind the old man, a pretty petite with brown hair and big brown eyes, and the biggest smile on her face stepped up. "My name is MC from Miracle Finder."

Almost immediately, Shaw withdrew his arm around you, almost causing you to stagger backward. He straightened up and feigned disinterest.

"Hey. It's a little rude how you stepped in while I was talking to the Professor," he said, his tone teasing.

"Oh, I didn't notice you here. Do you mind if I talk to your Professor? We've invited him for an interview about the exhibit," the girl said sweetly.

Based on how unconsciously coy she acted around Shaw, and the way he kept egging her, there was no doubt that this was the girl he was crushing on. You felt like the odd person out all of a sudden and needed to step away.

You backed away slowly, careful not to rouse their attention because it would probably suck if you knew how Shaw would introduce you to his little crush. As soon as you were in a safe distance, you turned and walked aimlessly down the hall, pausing briefly at paintings or sculptures that caught your fancy, looking at its intricacies as you did so earlier. But somehow, it wasn't as fun as it was before, so you moved on quickly, to give way to the other guests who also wanted to view the artwork.

Finally, you came upon the bar and decided to rest your tired feet at the far corner, hidden from the rest of the world. Sighing, you slipped your feet off your stilettos and quietly watched as the guests around you - mostly couples - happily chatting away as they enjoyed the beauty of the art around them and the wonderful music that filled the air. You knew somewhere in the crowd, your date was fawning over his lady love, probably getting in the way of her filming your professor.

Tch.

You knew he liked her - he always told you he did. And why wouldn't he? MC was pretty, seemingly sweet, and dainty - the kind of girl any guy would like to protect. And you. You were the opposite. You lived for your work, were 'one of the boys', and didn't need anyone to protect you - that's just how you were - and now you started to realize that maybe guys don't exactly like that. At least not Shaw.

Wait, what were you thinking? You scolded yourself as you shook your head. Why were you even thinking of what he liked when you don't even like him to start with. Or did you?

"Ugh. What the hell is wrong with me?" You groaned when a cold bottle of beer and a frozen glass was placed in front of you.

"I was gonna ask you that myself."

You straightened up in your seat and shot a look at the guy seated beside you. Dressed in a nice grey suit, he smiled as he raised his beer bottle in front of you.

"You look like you needed a drink. I hope the beer is okay. They don't have fruit beer or soda," he said calmly, his amber-colored eyes never leaving yours.

"Y-yeah. Beer is perfect," you replied while pouring the amber liquid into the glass. "Thanks," you muttered before raising the glass to your lips to gulp down some liquid courage.

"I saw you with Shaw earlier -"

The name on his lips drove you to a coughing fit, as you choked on your drink. "Sorry, " you mumbled in between coughs.

"No, I'm sorry," the brown-haired guy said, as he cautiously and politely patted your back. "I didn't mean to bring that up. I was just curious."

"It's fine," you replied when you finally regained your composure. "Yes, we're just classmates in Grad school who decided to check this exhibit out for the heck of it."

"Classmates, huh?"

"Yeah, that's what we are," you said, taking a sip off your glass. "Grad school classmates."

"Are you telling me or telling yourself?"

You looked up and saw him smiling. There was something about Dreamy McHandsome who was seated beside you that felt so familiar yet different at the same time, but you couldn't point a finger at what it was exactly.

"We're classmates, and we're working on our thesis together. But we're not friends - far from it even. We hate each other's guts."

"Can't blame you for doing so," he shrugged as he drank his beer.

"Yeah. He dragged me here so he can get with someone he's been crushing on for so long," you rambled on, frowning.

"Oh? And who might that be?"

"The Miracle Finder Producer. You know, the pretty girl in a blue top and white skirt. He's been going on and on about her for weeks…"

"You mean my girlfriend?"

His girlfriend. You choked on your drink once again. "Y-y-your girlfriend? You mean to say…" You gasped. Has the beer made you stupid? You've barely drunk half of it, you thought as you fought to regain your dignity. This was Shaw's brother you were talking to - and boy, we're they blessed with good genes…

… And the same social awkwardness, you noticed, judging by how he kept his hand at your back, but not exactly touching it, as if trying to assess if he had to pat you or not.

When you finally calmed down, he cleared his throat and gave you a small smile. "Don't worry. She talks to me about their conversations. I know what that guy is playing at, and I most definitely know he's not after my girl," he said, his voice broke no room for doubt. "My name is Gavin..."

"Yeah, I know…"

"You - what?"

"Oh," you said, tapping on your glass nervously. "Shaw kinda mentioned it in passing before."

"I see."

"So, what were you saying earlier about Shaw?"

"Oh. From what my girlfriend tells me, he's got his sights set on…"

"Ahem," you heard someone say loud enough for you and Gavin to turn your heads around. And there, standing behind you, was an angry-looking Shaw. You sat up, your gaze shifting between the two brothers as the air started to thicken with tension. "I talk to someone for a minute and the next thing I knew, my date walks out on me and right into the one person I'd hate for her to meet."

"Well, if you were just honest with her as with a lot of other things in your life, maybe she wouldn't have left your side earlier," Gavin retorted flippantly. "Is she finally done with filming?"

Shaw simply grunted in reply as he watched his older brother finish his bottle of beer and stand. "Well, Miss, there's a lot I've heard about you. Seems somebody couldn't stop talking about you, but I'll leave it at that."

With a wink and a mischievous smile upon his face, the brown-haired guy sauntered off to look for his better half, as you and Shaw watched in awkward silence.

He cleared his throat and glanced at you. "Hey."

"Hey," you replied, shakily.

"So, about what that jerk said -"

"Yes?" You asked, feeling your heart hammer against your chest by the second.

"Whatever he said is not true," he said dismissively, as he took his coat off and draped it over your shoulders. "I told you before, I don't find you the least bit attractive."

You felt tears starting to sting your eyes, as he continued with his harsh commentary. "You're tough, highly opinionated, and you always want to come out on top. I don't find those attractive at all," he said. "I prefer a damsel in distress. I want someone clingy… someone, needy."

"I know that -"

"Oh do you?" He teased, his amber eyes twinkling. "You seem to know a lot about me."

"We've been working together for months now," you said. "Of course, I'd know more about you."

"I see," he said, as he took a step closer to you and touched your cheek, rubbing the stray tear that had managed to slip down the side of your face. "So, you must know I'm also a good liar. After all, I've kept all these feelings to myself for quite some time."

He snickered when he saw your frown deepen and he bent down just as he had done so earlier, to whisper. "I made you think I liked someone else when in fact," his low voice made you shiver. "I've always eyes for you."

The End.

#mr love queen's choice shaw #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #mr love fanfic #mlqc shaw #shaw x reader #mlqc gavin #iris writes

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years ago

Text

Long Nights - part 2

Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: Praise you

(see chapter 1)

summary: you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining.

...even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, teasing, implied smut I guess? oh, and of course - ✨hand content✨

author’s note: Took me a while, but it was fun to write! Didn’t expect it to get this long, but here we are - over 4,2k words of shameless hand content

The song for this chapter is Fatboy Slim - Praise you

Anyway, enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @vaneilla @gallifreyan-uprising @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @truly-insatiable (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

-----

You cracked it.

It took you a good while, though. A whole sleepless night, even.

And half of the morning after that.

But maybe the absolute exhaustion was the key, pun intended.

At first, it boggled your mind so much that you were dangerously close to using brute force just to examine that lock. You tried every technique that you could think of - to no effect. It wasn’t like anything you’d seen before. The mechanism wasn’t responding as usual, it was more like a thing from goddamn Upside Down, or however the fuck that was called.

It became a matter of pride.

The sun had risen over an hour ago and the sunlight was pouring through the gaps in the blinds. Grasping at the last strands of sanity, you decided to take a break. You put on your headphones and danced around your apartment to the sounds of a song with that one bloody line that somehow seemed fitting for this madness.

Is it worth it? Let me work it, I put my thang down, flip it and reverse it

Because it felt exactly like that was what had happened to it. And no amount of cursing and switching tools would help in the face of glitched reality.

And when you sat down at your desk again, with your head so empty that your last brain cell was amusing itself by yodeling and listening to an echo, you bound the first pin. The sound was so distorted it almost startled you. The last thing you needed right then was to break the hook inside the keyway, so you leveled your breath and continued, even though your fingers cramped painfully. That wasn’t enough to stop you. Not as you finally got proof that the task was actually within your reach.

With every click like a backwards version of the sound you knew so well, the next pins got set quicker and smoother. And when you opened the lock, you couldn’t help the cheerful scream that escaped your mouth.

“Fuck yes!” You punched the air, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, the biggest grin lighting up your face.

That’s when you knew there was no way you were going to sleep anytime soon. Besides, you still didn’t know how you managed to convince that device to cooperate. You had to prove to yourself that it wasn’t dumb luck, and should you ever come upon a bloody nightmare like that, you’d be able to use the experience to crack it open. Because of that, you spent the next couple of hours reverse-picking it (which turned out to be another level of bonkers) to lock the damn thing, only to open it back again. And again. And then three times more. When you got comfortable with the process, your eyes were burning, your fingers stiff and trembling, but the immense satisfaction was worth every bit of it.

You were about to crash on the bed as your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the incoming message.

//did you pick it?

At first, you assumed you got it from Mahir, but as you were typing in a long rant, you realized that there was no history of the previous conversations on the screen, so you checked the sender again.

Neil.

Huh.

You’d exchanged the numbers the day before, but you didn’t expect to hear from him until they got everything ready to start the lessons. Oh well. You snapped the picture of the open lock and sent it back, adding a short message.

//that was fun, hope you have more of them

As you faceplanted on the bed, the phone buzzed with a reply.

//N: you bet

You couldn’t wait to get all the answers about how they managed to manufacture the most bizarre and mind-bending thing you’d ever seen, but there was no point in asking those questions over the phone. Plus, you really needed to get some rest.

//awesome! now excuse me, imma get some Zs - let me know when you guys are ready to start

After a second, you typed in another text.

//ps. how’s your nose?

//N: will do, sleep well!

//N: as for my nose...let’s say I’m glad it wasn’t the straightest one in the first place

That cheeky bastard.

//hey, don’t try to guilt-trip me, i’m trying to sleep

You almost drifted off, but you couldn’t resist checking that last notification.

//N: ...I wouldn’t dare

Snorting, you rolled to the side.

Then you fell asleep, dreaming of the impossible locks.

-------

It took them another day to prepare all the stuff, and after several further messages you got a date and location.

The building looked like a contemporary tenement house, definitely standing out from two older ones at its sides. You always assumed it belonged to one of those fancy start-ups, but apparently it was some sort of temporary headquarters of your new associates.

It didn’t surprise you that you weren’t given a tour of the place, you assumed you needed to have some sort of clearance to walk freely through the area. For now, you were restricted to the ground floor, or rather to the lobby and your classroom - a rather cozy space, but equipped with everything you needed to begin.

Neil turned out to be a fast learner, at least when it came to covering the theoretical side of lockpicking. You walked him through the basics, but you couldn’t help the itch in the back of your brain. After the encounter with the preposterous lock, your mind started to question everything that used to be unshakeable.

And of course you asked Neil about that bloody device as soon as you saw him, but he just smiled lightly and said that The Protagonist insisted on telling you all that himself when the time was right. So you had nothing left to do but to continue with the lessons, hoping that you the man himself would decide to grace you with his presence sooner than later.

You propped the chin on your hand and watched as Neil grabbed the tools. Your gaze wandered over his outrageously long fingers as he gave the lock a try, but apparently, the most idiotic grin on your face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, eyes up here,” snorted Neil, and you looked at him just to meet his amused face. He caught you shamelessly staring, and there was no point in denying it.

Trying to salvage your mental coherence, you choked out, “Dude, your hands are--”

“What?” he asked, tilting his head.

“...huge,” you finished, the wide smile not leaving even for a second. You bit your lip and glanced back at Neil. “Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna stare for a bit longer.”

A hint of a blush crept upon his cheeks. My, oh my. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat and proceeded to bind the first pin, pressing his mouth into a thin line in an attempt to keep a composed demeanor. The sparkles in his gaze were quite telling, though.

The sight was utterly adorable, but more importantly, it planted a rather gut-busting idea into your head.

You stifled a giggle.

All in due time.

____

One of the perks of the location was a small cafe on the other side of the street.

Neil took you there on your second day during a break, walking in with a confidence of a true regular. He knew the staff by name and vice-versa, so it didn’t surprise you as he charmed his way through the conversation.

“I’ve got this,” he said, raising a hand to stop you before you could place your order. “One black coffee and one--...” he hesitated, still preventing you from chiming in. You crossed your arms and watched as his forehead creased, the confidence leaving him with every second passed. He narrowed his eyes, and you could almost hear the gears grinding in his head.

Whatever he was doing, or trying to do, it was time to put him out of his misery.

“Iced mocha for me, please,” you said, wondering which one of you had a more puzzled expression. “Cat got your tongue?”

Neil shook his head.

“No, it’s just…” - he let out a small sigh - “I can’t read you.”

“Good,” you snorted. “Why would you want to, anyway?”

The young barista smiled, putting the first coffee on the counter.

“Oh, your colleague here has a thing.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “Do tell!”

“It’s nothing,” said Neil, cringing slightly, but it wasn’t enough to prevent the enthusiastic answer from spilling from the barista.

“He likes to guess the orders of his companions, but this is prolly the first time I ever saw him freeze like that. Can’t wait to tell Doris!”

Neil groaned, avoiding your amused stare. “Spare me, Max.”

“Aww, man, I’m honored to be your first!” you teased, nudging his arm lightly and snickering at the absolutely done face he gave you in return.

That cafe quickly became your place of choice during breaks, but sometimes, if the weather was nice enough, you ordered to-go, just to spend that bit of free time between lockpicking sessions sitting on a grassy hill overlooking a bank of the river. You chatted about everything and nothing in particular, or simply sat in silence, enjoying the ambiance, beverages, and each other’s company.

The last thing took you by surprise, in a way. You’d expected those brief moments of a break during the day to be your sacred moments of solitude, the usual necessity to avoid getting too cranky around people. As Neil joined you on that second day, you found out that his presence was not bothering you, or at least your social batteries weren’t being drained in their regular manner. Sure, it probably helped that he was incredibly easy on the eyes, but a real treat were those moments when you ventured onto a territory he felt strongly about. In a wink, he was ready to drop his typical composure just to go straight into bubbly rants, gesturing wildly, the blue irises lit by the fire that he most often kept under wraps.

There was nothing more boring than people who lacked passion.

Lucky for you, that was not the case with Neil.

Moreover, he made you laugh.

A dangerous combination.

Alluring, even.

Good thing that you were not one to become smitten that easily.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun, though.

--------

“You need to listen to what the lock has to say,” you prompted, pacing through the room and watching as Neil struggled with a new type of mechanism. “It’s all about feedback.”

He pulled out the tools and rubbed his face, trying to hide the first hints of frustration.

“What if we apply heavier tension to amplify it?” he said and glared at the lock as if it was taunting him from its place on the practice stand.

“Sure, “ - you leaned over the table to rest the chin on your laced fingers - “but can you think of any reasons not to do that, my dear Physics Boy?”

“The higher possibility of breaking tools?”

“Precisely,” you said as you snapped and pointed your fingers. ”Also, you risk binding the pins too tightly and you wouldn’t want that, either.”

Neil sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“So...patience, then?”

“Yes,” you beamed. “It really comes down to one thing - you have to feel it.”

A corner of his lips twitched. “I’ve heard it before,” he said, shifting in his seat.

You shrugged, eyeing him curiously.

“Maybe because that’s one universally useful advice?”

“Would help if I understood it, too.” He gave you a weak smile, but his expression told you he wasn’t convinced.

You hummed in acknowledgment.

“Listen, I can smarten it up for you, but let me just show you what I mean.” You grabbed the second pair of tools from the table and placed them inside the keyway, but as soon as you opened your mouth to provide some follow-up instructions, you got struck by a better idea. Your eyes flared up. “Okay, know what? I’m just gonna-- if you could scoot back a bit--...” you said, shuffling in his direction. Neil’s brows snapped together in consternation, but he moved back. Without further ado, you sat down in front of him, nestling yourself between his spread legs on the edge of the chair, and let out a content sigh. “Should be easier now. Put your hands on mine.“

Neil tensed, and you could swear you heard him swallowing hard behind your back. He followed your suggestion, wrapping his arms around you and placing his hands on top of yours.

“Now, lay your fingers on the tools just above mine,” you continued as you slid your digits back to make more room for him. “Great, try not to press them and focus. Close your eyes, if you want.” As you gently moved the tools, you couldn’t resist but to add, “You can breathe though, you know?”

“Blimey.”

You giggled at the sarcastic bit in his tone and drew a long breath, hoping that Neil would follow it, and focused back on the lock. Purposefully slowing down your movements to allow him to feel how the mechanism responded to your ministrations, you kept sliding the hook back and forth the keyway, setting pin after pin. Neil relaxed after a moment, his shallow breath ghosting over your shoulder got deeper and more steady. His palms rested heavier on your hands, and you marveled at their size again, nibbling on your bottom lip. With all your senses sharpened, you stole a brief moment of self-indulgence, closing your eyes and relishing in the warmth radiating from Neil, the way it enveloped you, carrying a scent of his cologne - airy citrus undertones mixed with hints of powdery musk, a fresh and unostentatious combination you found fitting him so well.

The final click, more pressure and voilà - the lock was open.

“Did you feel it?” you asked softly, weirdly unwilling to move, hoping to linger in the position for a little while longer.

“Yes,” said Neil, and his husky voice made you turn your head to look at him. As he pulled his hands back somewhat hesitantly, you noticed his dazed expression and slightly flushed cheeks.

“Good,” you chirped, grinning, then reached out over your shoulder and lightly booped his nose, enjoying probably a bit too much the way his eyes widened. “Your turn.”

-----

Days. Weeks. Or was it months, plural?

You lost track of how much time had passed since that morning in the Old Town district.

The progress was counted by the number of models you introduced to Neil, showing him all the tricks you’d learned over the years. You still waited for the meeting with The Protagonist, although, ever since your student spilled a little too much information during one of his enthusiastic rants at the breaks (seriously, how could a person that bad at keeping secrets survive so long in any sort of spying business was beyond you), your initial curiosity itch had been scratched, and you were now in that blessed moment before it got unbearable again and demanded taking further actions.

It also helped that you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining. Even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

Neil was clearly feeling confident that evening. He really started to get a hang of this, and you loved watching him like that - fully focused, blonde strands falling to the eyes, with the tip of the tongue poking out...

It would be a shame if someone was to test his level of concentration.

“You know, I spend so much time looking at your hands that they recently started making cameos in my dreams.”

The blue eyes darted at you from under raised brows.

“Is that so?" asked Neil, switching his attention to the lock again.

“Yep. Mind you, most of those dreams are rather uneventful.” You pouted, sliding from your place on the windowsill. “Still waiting for one that is not so boringly PG-13.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and swallowed with effort.

...warmer...

Circling the table, you stopped behind Neil’s chair.

"I’m just saying,” - leaning over, you purred right into his ear - ”that such long fingers like yours can give a girl all sorts of ideas--"

Snap.

You bit back a satisfied smile and smacked your tongue. “Those were perfectly fine tools, you know.”

Neil turned in his seat and gaped at you.

“Why are you like this?” he complained, helpless and flustered.

You shrugged. “I thought it was a high time for a little stress test. Might come in handy later.” Snickering at his puzzled face, you added, “What? You’re not exactly in a stress-free line of work.”

He shook the head lightly and scoffed. “... yeah, I see your point,” he said, a corner of his mouth curling into a half-smile. “But I don’t think there’s a high risk of someone trying to seduce me in the field.”

“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?” you asked, arching a brow, your tone nothing but serious.

“I-...”

The panicked look on his face as he blinked rapidly was more than enough to break your deadpan façade.

“Oh man, I’m just pulling your leg. You should’ve seen your face though.” Giggling, you grabbed a fresh lock from a shelf and tossed it to Neil. He sighed and replaced the messed-up device. “Besides,” you continued, “if there is one thing that the espionage movies have taught me, it’s that the spy always has plenty of beautiful creatures willing to keep his bed warm.”

The playful sparks appeared in Neil’s eyes.

“Is this a very elaborate way of asking me if I’m seeing someone or are you volunteering?”

Well, well, well.

“What if it’s both?”

“Then the first answer is no. As for the second one--” he hesitated, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. “...a follow-up question - is it a good idea?”

You tilted your head, sitting down on the edge of the table in front of him.

“Why?”

“What if it’s gonna make things… I don’t know, weird?”

You gestured vaguely. “Can’t get any weirder than all your timey-wimey, inverted entropy bullshit.”

“That’s not exactly--”

“I know what you meant,” you sighed and met his darkened gaze, a shade of smile tainting your lips. “And yet, you’re trying to appeal to my reason while looking at me like that.” You left your seat and grabbed your backpack. “It’s getting late. Finish with this one and get some rest.”

Then you left, not waiting for a reply.

It was one of the warm nights and you decided to take a walk. A promenade near the river was not as crowded as you expected, making your journey home way more enjoyable. With your favourite tunes seeping through the headphones, you took in the view, the city lights reflecting in the water only added to the ambiance.

The phone buzzed in your pocket.

//N: I can’t believe you left like that

You chuckled, texting him back.

//why, you had any plans?

The answer came almost instantly.

//N: maybe

He was adorable. But--

//have you finished with the lock?

//N: …no

//N: wait are you gonna use our conversation as some sort of motivational tool now

Even if you weren’t, after getting a message like that?

You just had to.

//maybe?

//N: jesus

//sex is but a great metaphorical carrot. besides - it’s all about that delayed gratification and whatnot

A moment of silence.

And then:

//N: you’re evil.

That spiteful period at the end got you snickering loudly, earning you some curious looks.

A huge grin lit up your face.

//gn <3

-----

You must admit, that game was quite exciting.

And Neil was getting better at it, and soon implying became no longer enough to make him lose his focus.

At first, it was relatively easy to prompt a blush or a slight tremble of a hand. But with every next attempt, he grew more and more resilient, and soon, the only indication that he heard you was the fire burning in his eyes.

Then you got really mean, throwing some ambitious tasks in front of him, tricky locks and complex mechanisms, as your teasing got more straightforward.

And descriptive.

It became hard to shake it off once you left the training room. The lingering looks. The accidental touches. The atmosphere, almost electric. In other words - the heat sink was ready to be popped, and it was no longer a matter of if, but more of when.

“4 minutes.”

Neil barely nodded, lips pressed together and brows knitted in concentration.

3 locks in 15 minutes. Difficult, but doable, considering his current level of skill. Too bad he’d slacked at the second one, not leaving too much time for the final push. Sure, you didn’t go easy on him along the way, but the real challenge was supposed to be a race against the clock, so now you just watched him with bated breath.

Click.

You checked the time.

“45 seconds”

“Goddamnit!” he uttered through gritted teeth, readjusting cramping fingers on the tools.

“Come on, you’ve got this,” you said, taking a step closer.

Another click.

He didn’t know that there was only one pin left to set. You did, that’s why you tried your best not to reveal it with your expression. Too early to celebrate, anyway.

“Nine... eight… seven… six… five…”

That’s when you heard a final click and you looked up from your phone, only to see the lock giving in and opening up.

“Yeah!” Neil cheered, banging a fist on the table and tossing the tools away.

You smiled, hiding the phone in the pocket. “Good job, I knew--” but before you could finish a sentence, Neil sprung up from his chair and closed the gap between you, then cupped your face with his palms and kissed you hungrily.

You froze for a second, but as your mind caught up, you kissed him back, tugging at the light blue shirt. He smiled against your lips and made you back away until you hit the wall, huffing at the sudden coldness of the surface. But he was bent on kissing you senseless until you both ended up gasping for air.

“You’re so paying for all that teasing,” he panted, running the tip of the tongue through his swollen lips. “Not to mention, you’ve given me a few fascinating ideas, and I’m very much willing to give them all a try.”

You grinned, fighting with your evidently short-circuiting brain for a grasp of coherence as his hands traveled down your body.

“My, my, all of them?”

“The night is young,” - his throaty chuckle sent a wave of heat through your body - “and I’m up for a challenge.”

“I’m counting on it,” you breathed, burying your fingers in his hair, and pulling him into a kiss again.

Actually, the challenge started right away, and that meant getting to Neil’s place, as the company conveniently rented him a room in a nearby hotel. Walking distance, but in your current quite heated state, every distance seemed way too long. Especially when you had to keep up appearances.

At least until the elevator’s door closed behind you.

The dark gaze fixed on you. Your breaths intertwining. His bottom lip between your teeth. The five o’clock shadow under your fingertips. Your hands sliding under his shirt. His knee parting your legs. The intoxicating smell of his cologne. Your quiet moan. His tongue slipping into your mouth--

A quiet sound announced you reached your floor, and you stumbled out into the corridor, giggling, unable to keep hands and lips off each other.

Your back hit the door, barely missing the knob. Without skipping a beat, Neil reached to the pocket of his pants, then into the other one. When he tried the third one, you broke the kiss, your expression nothing but innocent.

“Looking for this?” you asked, showing him a key card.

He furrowed his brows. “Yes, thank you, I don’t know how--...” he started, but when he tried to snatch his property, you hid your hand behind your back. His jaw went slack as it dawned on him and he stared at you in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

He groaned.

“You’re unbelievable,” he uttered as he pulled out his wallet. “Credit card?”

“Only if you’re not overly attached to it.” The roguish lights danced in your gaze. “Especially when you’re in a hurry,” you hinted, palming over the bulge in his pants. Neil squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a moan, and you stifled a chuckle. “Try any membership card.”

He glared at you. “You’re so in for it, you have no idea.”

“Promises, promises,” you pouted, trying not to burst into laughter at his wounded expression. “Work it.”

“Gladly, just tell me what to do.”

So you walked him through the process.

Fortunately, Neil really was a fast learner, making the door give way in no time.

“Good boy,” you hummed, and the blue eyes flared up.

He crashed his lips on yours, closing the door behind you.

Then he gave you a taste of what was coming for you.

And then some more.

And then…

...he gave you all.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #neil tenet #robert pattinson #tenet #tenet fanfiction #long nights

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guileheroine · 4 years ago

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a sky full of song, chapter two

As her friendship with the Princess continues to deepen, a road trip to the Earth Kingdom compels Asami to reflect on her place in the world / Korrasami royalty AU / ao3 / chapter one

Asami exchanged eager glances with Miki and Khiem. Silaq stood by the door with his arms crossed casually, but they were all invested. As soon as the rickety panel separating them from the magic chamber slid aside and Korra emerged out, Miki caught her arm.

Asami caught the other one. "So what did she say?"

"Hey! That's between me and Mistress Meng." Korra winked, while Asami rolled her eyes. "Your turn, quick. She was meant to close fifteen minutes ago but I gave her a little extra so she'd do everyone. At the behest of the princess and all."

Asami almost expected her to wink again as she pushed her through the door. "We'll get dinner and head for the inn afterwards," she heard her say to the others.

Everyone meant the three waiting after Asami, so Korra must have paid the old woman handsomely indeed, and Asami expected to be rushed through the process. Instead she found herself in a smoky little tearoom, at the pointed end of a gaze glittering with curiosity.

"And who are you when the Princess isn't around?"

Asami coughed, eyes smarting in the smoke. "A blacksmith at the palace. One of her companions."

"I see. Married yet?" Mistress Meng posed the question as discreetly as possible, after her eyes had surreptitiously scanned Asami for any telltale glints of yellow gold.

"No, madam. I only wish." Asami bit the inside of her cheek and humoured the woman. This region of the Earth Kingdom was mighty superstitious, and the lady was smart to make a decades-long vocation of it. If Asami could see straight through it... well, Mistress Meng needn't know she was impervious to her airs.

"Very well." Mistress Meng pulled up her voluminous sleeve. "Drink of this vial and place your palm out for me."

Asami swallowed the sweet concoction she was handed and closed her eyes to protect them, while Mistress Meng put a papery hand under hers. She settled comfortably on the cushions, wondering what her fortune would hold.

Already life had taken a turn for the wondrous. They had been on the road for the better part of a week now, though it felt longer. The wedding of the Earth Prince was in another ten days, and Makapu Village here was one of their nightly stops on the great east road that would bring them to Ba Sing Se. Korra had convinced her to come along with her small hand-picked party, rebuffing the Lotus Guard that King Tonraq had offered. In the end, all Asami had to do was rush the final week of her apprentices' training and visit the palace dressmaker in between to have a couple of fancy gowns made—although Korra whispered in her ear, distractingly enough, that the finery was only for Ba Sing Se and they would wander free the rest of the time. So they had, riding down through the great forests of the north, crossing the choppy sea by ship, and camping in the mountains of the northern Earth Kingdom.

"My wisdom for you, dear," Mistress Meng pronounced dramatically, snapping Asami out of her reverie, "is that seeking true love is like asking for the moon…"

Asami's first faintly irritable thought was, that's not a fortune. The second, later that evening, quieter, would be, tell me something new.

"But," Meng drew the word out in a long croak, closing the other hand over Asami's, "it cannot come down from heaven, if you do not find the courage to ask."

Asami made a mental note, because the others would want to hear something as extravagant as that.

Early the next morning, they were dallying on the benches in the yard, mulling over whether to take a detour to the lake as they prepared to depart.

"Too cold to swim," said Miki dismissively, chewing on some berries she had brought out from the breakfast table, "even for me. And that one will freeze to death."

She had been chosen by Korra as part of the entourage for being one of the more intrepid and easygoing members of the staff, and they were good friends besides. She tossed a few nuts to Asami, who pulled her hand out from beneath her shawl just in time to catch them.

"You with the reflexes," Miki whistled, satisfied.

On the bench across from Asami, Silaq, bodyguard to the Princess (that was his official capacity), clasped his broad hands together over the map he had laid out. "Well, Mistress Meng did say I need to take some risks today." He winked at Asami, who scrunched her nose teasingly. He was a large and genial man, and had been kind to her since he was first tasked with helping haul her iron to the smithy from the ships that visited Agna Q'ela from the quarries.

"Wait, didn't she say that to everyone?" Korra piped loudly, directing her attention to the table and away from the innkeeper's son on her hip.

"She said that to everyone," Khiem said simultaneously. He had just finished saddling up their packs, and he stood tickling the reinmule's belly for a moment. Khiem took care of the Princess's dogs at home, and the pack animals on the road.

"Anyway, lake," Korra said with finality, and then softened it with a, "We're not in a rush, are we?"

It was settled. It wasn't that Korra was used to having the last word so much as everyone was generally in accord with her decision. Asami pulled the thick shawl around her, enjoying the crisp air. She had missed this—the kind of morning chill that made you shiver in relish rather than fright.

Korra had turned back to the innkeeper's son, who was being introduced to her mare. The child and the white-coated elk horse regarded one another with mutual caution. Asami sympathised with his wariness. It had taken her a while to warm up to the elk horses, who turned restless with cabin fever aboard the ship soon after Asami had first met them. But since then she had taken to the mount Korra and Khiem brought for her, a sable stallion who liked when Asami rested her face in the scoops of his ostentatious antlers.

"A show-off, like you," Korra said later, as they rode abreast, the lake behind them. "That's why I chose him."

Asami scoffed and laughed, not quite dismissively. She tugged the towel from her hair so that the midday sun could dry it. Asami had taken an inadvisable, yet irresistible, dip in the lake; her scream upon contact with the frigid waters had echoed through the forest bounding them, scattering the birds. Korra and Silaq, the resident waterbenders, had dove in without hesitation. It took a little extra effort to warm the waters as they swam, but polar people did it by instinct. Miki the non-bender had fought the cold valiantly, while Khiem abstained, laughing them off from the bank.

"I'm only moved by the spirit of adventure," Asami said, tossing her wet hair to her back.

The others rode a way ahead of them on the current path, a wide trail shrouded on either side by trees twice as tall as any at the north pole, strewn with their needles. The smell of spring came strong from the woods. Summer crept close on their tails.

"I wonder how they're doing back at the shop," Asami mused.

"You're not worried, are you?" Korra said, and before Asami could answer she corrected herself. "No, you're not. You've been having way too much fun this week."

Asami stared at her with a soundless laugh.

"And to think I had to drag you!"

"You didn't drag me! It's just that I was worried. But I didn't realise how much of a break I needed until we left." Over the week, Asami had provided some minor wheelwrighting services to those they met on the road, but for the most part she was blissfully free of strenuous work. Breathing in the clear air beyond the royal forge, she was sensible to sights and sensations she had largely been shut off from for a year, her escapades with Korra notwithstanding.

"Did you always know you wanted to be a blacksmith? I mean, did you choose such a gruelling trade?" Korra said.

"Oh," Asami said, staggering on the question while she caught up to Korra's thinking. "Um, actually, I'm not sure I ever thought about it—maybe I should have, huh? It's just what I was always supposed to do, growing up with my father."

"I know what that's like…" Korra sucked air through her teeth. Then she cocked her head. "For what it's worth, I'm sure there's a lot you'd be great at, if you ever wanted to switch things up."

Asami gave her a humble little mock curtsey, as far as possible on horseback. "And you? Have you wondered who you might be if you weren't the Princess of the North?" That was the title that always went before their company in these parts.

"Ah, not really." Korra sounded recalcitrant, like she didn't want to entertain the trail of thought for fear it might leave her wistful.

It wasn't a mood Asami wanted to encourage. "Well, then let me. First of all, it's quite easy to imagine the improvement on your personality we'd have if you weren't highborn—"

Korra wasn't hard to rile. "You're awful!"

Distraction achieved, Asami backed down. "And luckily, you really aren't," she countered without a beat, smiling her deference. She felt her own eyes soften when Korra returned the smile, disarmed and placated. Then Asami was humbled in sincerity, at the instant enhancement she had made on Korra's mood.

"You'd make a good princess," Korra said. "Better than me."

"No," Asami returned, "that's not true."

Though she meant it, she sounded less convincing to her own ears this time, because she was willing the bittersweetness out of her voice. "Your people love you," she added. "They don't see the slow parts. They see a warrior, passionate and big-hearted. And I know their trust means the world to you, even if you get impatient sometimes."

Some of the levity had dissipated, the air with all its scents was heavy now, and Asami wondered if she had overstepped. "Me," she continued, "I can't talk to someone on the street like I've known them my whole life."

After a long second, Korra said, "You could do the three hour round tables." It wasn't a counter to Asami's statement but a submission; and in responding so, Korra was gently accepting her kindnesses as well.

Asami concurred with a sigh. They would make a good team, then. They did .

The path was widening out now, but so were the trees, prickly branches curving into their way. A pleasant breeze rustled in them, softening the hard sunlight into an ideal haze. They both closed their eyes against it for a while.

"Well," Korra said, snapping off some needles from the branches pushing against her, "enjoy this while it lasts, because we'll probably have to sneak out at night if we want any freedom in Ba Sing Se."

"Uh-huh." Asami eyed her, brow arched. "Could it be that that's why we're taking the long route?"

Korra's eyes crinkled. "It's not a secret, Asami."

"Shh."

Korra threw her clump of twigs and needles at her, and they both laughed.

"You're kind of dreading it, aren't you?" Asami said. "Why… You'll be a great envoy for the tribes regardless of whatever the Earth elite think of us. And the King can't be too concerned if he let the council delegate to you... I mean, how hard can it be to attend a wedding?"

"You know, my mother's hoping it's going to provoke something in me."

"The mission?" Asami shielded her eyes as she gazed ahead to see where the others were. Accustomed to trips with Korra alone, she had forgotten to keep them in account.

"The wedding."

Asami turned back to Korra. "Is that right?" She pouted sympathetically. "She says that all the time. She's hoping everyone you meet with will magically infuse you with dreams of courtship."

"Well, this time, it's my dad, too."

"Oh… "

Korra gave her an exasperated look; Asami laughed, shaking her head.

"I mean, it's a funny thing to tell you when you're literally about to run away."

"That's what I thought! But I guess at least it means he thinks my sense of diplomatic responsibility has improved."

Asami got the impression that it wasn't that much of a bright side to Korra, and it coloured the air strangely again, but then she was startled into distraction. A butterfly had alighted on her nose, appearing from nowhere. It had been a long time indeed since she had seen one. Korra turned sharply at her gasp of delight. Gently, Asami coaxed it to crawl onto her hand, which she held out to Korra.

"These were my favourite! I used to plant flowers just to attract them."

"I see. So was that hard for you? Not being attractive enough for them all on your own?"

It took Asami a moment to understand her meaning, and then she sniggered. The butterfly wove around Korra and her stallion before flying off, and once they had watched it go, she said, "Hey, why are you in such a mood today?" She waited for Korra to return her pointed glance. "Tired of me already?"

Korra shook her head, sweeping her hand through the stallion's fur. "What? I adore you."

They did not look at each other then. Asami's knuckles tightened on the reins while the thrill of the words rose and abated. It was just a second in their familiar repartee, a long and blistering second. Korra fiddled with the bridle on her mount.

"Alright, well, since you're feeling so belligerent, why don't you race me?" Asami shifted on her mount. "We should catch up to the others."

It was for the best, because the farther they traveled from the Water Kingdoms, the keener the sense of possibility became, and the softer and more yielding the boundaries Asami knew, which meant all the more that she couldn't risk prodding them. And since the excitement she felt was for the fresh and familiar landscapes, not just from them, Asami directed her mind to that. Korra's spirits had been high and easy, too, from the advent of their journey—until today, it seemed. It occurred to Asami that Korra had never actually mentioned what Mistress Meng had divined for her.

In the town of Tenduk, it had been arranged for Princess Korra to open a new museum. Asami knew that cutting ribbons wasn't one of Korra's favourite activities, as it usually preceded a lot of sitting through—or worse, making—formal speeches. But the palace had arranged it upon request by the town, after the mayor learnt that they would likely be passing through that part of the kingdom when the museum was scheduled to open.

The night before, they arrived at the town's finest guesthouse. It was jam-packed, owing to the impending ceremony, but they offered Korra the final single room. Miki, however, was nursing the final strains of a back injury from a snowshoeing accident in the winter, and Korra insisted she take it with its softer bed. It left her to accompany Asami in the shared room. When they sat on the plentiful cushions over a nightcap of strong tea, they agreed it recalled Korra's apartments at home. Except the night outside was darker than it ever got with snow and ice around, and beyond was a foreign land that held them to no account, far from any castle, the room they lodged in belonging to neither of them. That made it different in a way they couldn't quite discuss aloud.

Once Korra was ready for bed, Asami shut the window, where she had been listening to the cicadas chirp in the moonless night. Korra turned out the smelly lamp. It was cool inside now, and the dark almost too eerie to sleep in. From the other side of the bed, she heard Korra sigh.

"Excited for tomorrow?"

"Sure. Asami?"

She was about to say princess, into the dark and thrumming night, but the circumstances might have carried it to an unfamiliar place, so she bit her tongue. "Hm?"

"Would you stay here, if you could?"

Here? Asami thought, before it dawned.

There was a beat before Korra spoke again. "In the Earth Kingdom. You miss it, don't you?"

"It's been a long time since I lived here. It was a long time before the war, even."

But it was a notion Asami hadn't realised she was nurturing, until Korra put it to words. It was true that the north was not the only place she could have made her post-war life—she'd simply taken the first chance that befell her to escape her father's legacy. In any case, the future certainly held other options, if the future looked the way she thought it might.

Korra didn't push, though Asami waited to see if she would ask again. Instead all there was was the dim whir of the cicadas, and the space on the bed between them.

"Maybe one day," Asami said finally. "Who can say?"

"Of course," Korra replied softly. The way she said it made Asami wonder, and suppress the immediate urge she had to reach out for her.

Korra cleared her throat. "Are you sleepy? I'm not."

"No." Asami sprang on the word, overhasty.

"Let's walk in the garden." Korra was out of bed no sooner than Asami had heard her words. "It looked so nice, and we probably won't have time tomorrow."

After a breakfast that included the fried cicadas Korra had begun to inquire about not five minutes into their stroll, they were led to the museum. Streamers hung from the building with the banners of all four kingdoms on them—it was the first public collection to open that brought cultural displays from across the world, a gesture of harmony after the war. After Korra cut the ribbon on the flagstones in front of a politely buzzing crowd, Asami and the others hung behind while she led the first patrons that had queued up inside. The impromptu tour that ensued, they later heard, had not been a part of the plan, but it proved a hit with the audience, who hadn't expected to hear the Northern Princess regale them firsthand.

"It must have been nice to put your royal history education to use for the first time ever," Miki commented, while they sat together picnicking afterwards. Korra spluttered her agreement, laying back on the mats they had loaned from the guesthouse.

"I just did the Water wing," she said, "so, um, the other hundred books could have been more useful."

"You can put some more of it to the test for the Earth Queen," Khiem said dourly, "impress her a little."

Korra struggled up and reached to steal some flatbread from his plate. "You want to feed me to the wolves!"

Asami giggled and followed suit, tearing some bread. Korra had done well, made the event her own. She was skilful now at knowing when to put her touch on things, how the line should be toed; a sense that served a figure such as herself well. Her mood, in turn, was vibrant today. Asami took the effort to gaze up at the sunset, away from Korra reclining in its glow.

Silaq was cutting persimmons from the trees around them, with permission from the warden that had scouted this spot outside the town for them. Some of the surrounding trees were blooming, while others were fat with fruit.

"Shake them!" Asami called. "You just have to shake them, and they'll fall."

Some of the fruit hit their heads on the way down. Asami took one of the blossoms in her lap and put it in Korra's hair as a token of congratulation, and Korra caught her hand for a moment as it left, beaming. As Korra stood to join Silaq in gathering the fruit, Asami thought that perhaps their moods had switched today. Korra's words last night had imparted an itch in the back of her mind. She bit into a persimmon and the silky cinnamon taste only intensified the nostalgic pang.

She turned to Khiem, who was a rare earthbender who had been born at the North Pole. "Khiem, how did you end up in Agna Q'ela? Did I ever ask?" She offered him the fruit.

"Same as you, I suppose," he laughed.

What did that mean? At Asami's creasing brow, he took a bite from the persimmon and continued.

"My father moved there from Yousheng prefecture to breed elk horses. The wild elk horses in the north… They're not suitable as mounts. When the King wanted elk horses for riding, my father was hired to take animals from the continent to breed with them so they could be domesticated, and to teach the royal stables how to keep them."

"Wow," Asami said. "I see—"

"Like your foundry."

"Yes, I got it," she laughed. "So he never came back?"

Khiem shook his head. "He fell in love with a northern girl." He handed the persimmon back; it was Asami's turn. "Are you planning to return? I hear your apprentices are shaping up."

"I haven't thought about it," Asami admitted. "But I think that thought will be due soon."

"Well, it's not an easy place to settle unless you grew up there. I doubt you have everything you want in the Water Kingdoms…"

No, indeed.

It was midday when they arrived in Ba Sing Se, sweaty and hungry. At the east gates of the Lower Ring, they were met by a representative of the Earth Queen, and another from the Water consulate here in the city, who took them up into the palace and housed them like all the other guests that had been filtering in from all four kingdoms. The wedding was tomorrow, and tonight they would soiree with the other guests, but they took their lunch with the Water consul in the Upper Ring.

The consul received them eagerly, and served them fresh seasonal fare, introducing the latest goings-on in the city.

"All the festivities down there are beautiful," Korra enthused. The party was already in full swing in Ba Sing Se; they only had one prince, after all.

"Wait until you see the fire show tonight," the consul said. "There's more than just gold in the Earth Queen's coffers. Gunpowder! They have the finest technicians working on it. That will be something to behold for us northerners."

Korra's face lit up at the mention of fireworks. Asami was ready to return her grin when she sought her gaze, as she passed her the bowl of sauteed greens. She smiled behind her cup as Korra told the consul all about her pyrotechnics.

"Your Highness," he said, when they sat in the veranda office and rested afterwards, "there is the matter of the wedding gift, and venue, and the list of attendees for the ball tonight with the Queen and the Prince… There are a number you should definitely meet with, the others I will leave to your discretion. The wedding itself will be at the Summer Palace in the morning... doubtless the Earth royals will be preoccupied, so make your acquaintances tonight and then enjoy the day, I say..."

While the consul engaged Korra on these matters, Asami turned to Silaq. "Will we all go tonight?"

"Yes, I think so. It's a party, not a meeting. Remember your titles, though."

"Titles? How will I know—"

He patted her shoulder. "For Korra, I mean. In the palace, in company, it will be your highness —or my lady, or miss if you're feeling brave… And we'll be her household, since we're all in the employ of the palace."

"That's kind of fun," Asami said, and they shared a quiet laugh.

Their rooms at the Royal Palace were lavish. Asami and Miki hurried through the halls once they were clear of any staff, admiring the thick tapestries and the ornaments of silver, jade, and cinnabar. Each object and surface seemed to heave with ancient grandeur. They slipped into their second finest dresses, the Water folk in shades of stunning and patriotic blue. Asami kept her hair down. She had been taking every chance to, since it was an impossibility when she was at work. The gathering commenced in a series of massive drawing rooms, the largest boasting a high, golden vault carved with star maps and scenes from legend. Asami could have spent all evening gazing up. While Korra met with various nobles, she and the others clung close to one another, drinking careful amounts and milling with the looser guests. After a while, they fell into a game of hunting the aristocrats, pointing and guessing discreetly from the seating map who each of the fanciest guests were. When it was time, however, they all had to be introduced to the man whose wedding they had come for.

"Princess Korra! You , my lady, look ravishing ."

Korra and Prince Wu bowed to one other; a shallower and stiffer movement than the one Asami was used to seeing in Agna Q'ela. He had removed the tasselled crown he first entered in, leaving his mantle of green silks to shine, which he wore over a matching tunic lined with gold brocade. If not for the top-notch tailoring, they would have swallowed him.

Korra held her hand out for him to kiss, and then when she kissed his cheek as customary, a look of daze befell the Prince that made Miki clinch Asami's arm and snort. In fact, Prince Wu kissed the hands of all the ladies once Korra had named them to step forward and bow—decorum be damned—and he even offered Silaq a rather shy pat on his solid arm. Korra's eyes were narrowed, lips pressed tight, caught between irritation and laughter. Korra didn't like the Earth Prince. Asami didn't think she would either, but he was certainly a character.

The prince's betrothed, on the other hand, while he did not turn heads, left a more curious impression. He was modestly but finely dressed—the seemingly plain cut shirt clearly made from the finest weave upon a second glance—but he spoke little and did not seem to capture any of the guests for long. Naturally, he was the first topic of conversation when they sat for a bite. Korra's party shared their table with a couple chatty ladies, daughters from some southern freehold, who seemed to know all there was to know.

"That man is a commoner," one of them hiccupped over her sweetmeats. "Nothing but a beautiful, common commoner."

Korra's head rose instantly and she set her chopsticks down halfway to her mouth. "Oh, really?"

"Rumour has it," her sister to her left leaned in with a conspiratorial tone, "he was born in the slums in the Lower Ring and abandoned by his hussy mother. He would have died if one of the maidservants here didn't rescue him and raise him as her own."

The final southern woman, clearly the elder, cast them both reproving looks, as if she was disappointed that they would relay this gossip before the Princess of the North..

"One of the staff I was chatting to in our foyer said he used to be the Prince's bodyguard," Miki said. "Far to go, huh?"

"Or close, I guess," Khiem said, next to Asami, elbowing Silaq suggestively. Korra scoffed at him.

"I wonder what the Earth Queen thought of that," she said.

The older woman answered cautiously. "I'd wager the Prince just pitched a fit until she relented. Love him or hate him, not having his way is a foreign concept to His Highness."

The youngest girl was bored of this now. She turned to Asami, who had noticed her hawkish gaze on her once or twice. "Are you from the Fire Empire, Miss? You have a look."

"I am," Asami said. "Though I was born here in the Earth Kingdom. But I'm a blacksmith in the north now."

"A blacksmith." The girl repeated. She looked ahead, and her chin turned up a fraction as she sipped. "My sifu defeated the master arrowsmith for the Yuyan Archers during the war, and he says Fire Empire smiths are deadly warmongers."

Asami's heart sank in a flare of regret. From the corner of each eye, she saw the girl's sister shooting her a warning glance, and Korra clenching her jaw. Korra, of course, was not above invoking her station to put an enemy in their place.

"It's alright," Asami said quickly. "He's correct, unfortunately. But I haven't been with them a long time. I'm making amends."

Korra grazed her arm under the table. She already felt guarded here and she knew that Asami felt doubly conspicuous in these grand halls. At least the young lady had the good sense to look contrite.

"You look like... a goddess of the forge," Korra said, her cheek in her palm, leaning back to assess the gown.

Asami snorted, her sharp stance before the mirror failing. They had risen early and were mostly ready by the time the sun was fully up. It would take a half hour by rickshaw to reach the Summer Palace, and they would need to get there long before the prince in his palanquin.

"Nooo, don't go all red. See, it's gone now."

"Well, it's warm in the forge," she retorted. "Are the others ready?"

"Almost. Khiem's shining his shoes." Korra rose up onto her elbow reluctantly, yawning. She turned to the little box of jewelry she had brought, which lay open on the bed. "Hey, come here. Do you want to wear some of this?" She held up an elaborate necklace of pearl and pink ruby. I think this matches you better… And you know, they like seeing this stuff, at least the Earth Queen does."

"Right, the heavier the gold, the more highly she'll think of you," Asami said, bungling a mantra someone at the party last night had mentioned. She smoothed her dress one last time, glancing at Korra. Korra was arrayed in deep and regal teals, stretching the dress code a little only as a comely and commanding young princess could. The code for the wedding was simple: green, the colour of the Earth Kingdom, the colour of spring. Asami's own jade gown was embellished with pink spring blossoms. It was oddly exhilarating for them to be in summer garb, and Asami, for her part, couldn't recall the last time her arms had seen the sun.

She knelt on the bed and examined the jewels in Korra's hand. Asami's own gold had been paid in reparations, along with most of the other assets her family had held, after the war. All she kept were a few pieces that had belonged to her mother. Asami cleared her throat.

"Is it alright for me to wear this?"

Korra nodded mildly no sooner than she'd asked. "Of course. It's mine. Turn around."

She climbed to her knees behind Asami and unclasped the necklace, pausing first to sweep her hair from her shoulder. Asami's skin pebbled before the cold metal touched it, and she made her exhale soft. Though she said nothing, Korra must have noticed because she placed a hand over Asami's shoulder while the other straightened the chain at the back of her neck.

"You wear it really well." Korra placed her other hand on her too now, almost down at her own hand. "You look beautiful."

Asami didn't dare look up into the mirror; instead she felt the cove of Korra's shoulders, tucked around her own, close. When she had rescued her voice, she managed, "Thank you." She knew what she had to say next— which one are you going to wear? —but it was impossible not to defer it another second, two seconds—

There was a pointed cough at the doorway. Korra's hands dropped; Asami turned and sat on the bed, retracting to one corner.

It was one of the palace staff; wearing the doormen's colours, albeit in what looked like a special silk for the occasion. She gazed in the middle distance and rattled off, flustered. "Your Highness and our esteemed guests are expected in the reception rooms in twenty minutes for departure." Before they knew it, she had bowed vaguely and scampered.

Miki materialised where had been. "Oh, good. We're almost done, no?"

"Yes," Korra said, searching for Asami's eye, and Asami nodded blankly.

"I'll—go put on my shoes then."

Korra put on a necklace and a glimmering silver coronet. Asami picked up the shawl that matched her dress. They were finished in minutes, ready to head for the foyer. Asami shut the door of her suite firmly behind her as they left.

#korrasami #korrasami fanfiction #lok fanfiction #legend of korra #**#asfos

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zordonmlw7 · 3 years ago

Text

Plaguetober Day 2 - Protect 🛡

The dim glow of the campfire illuminated Sir Alfharis as he tried to warm himself in the cool fall night. He’d cloak himself in his cape, but it was currently being used by one little girl curled up, leaning against him.

“Run!”

His voice still haunted him. Memories of how the two got here flashed in his mind briefly. He wasn’t ready to relive them. He figured he should at least think of a plan of what to do with her.

He glanced at her face. It was peaceful. Was she truly at peace? He found that hard to imagine. But if peace was still a hope for her, he begged with every ounce of his being that she could find it.

SNAP.

His train of thought interrupted, he instantly went on high alert. Not another threat. Not today. Had they not suffered enough? Was a lifetime a pain condensed to a single arc of the sun not ENOUGH?

Alfharis unclasped his cape and stood slowly, not wanting to disturb the girl’s sleep. He unsheathed his blade and took on a defensive stance. It was probably safer to run, but he was exhausted. His sword wavered in his unsteady hands. He’d sooner die protecting her sleep than risk waking her up to find another thing wanting her dead.

The creature that threatened them soon grew close enough for its eyes to shine in the dark. Alfharis recognized them immediately. He had fought them many a time before. Never alone, though. Always with his band.

Thoughts of his compatriots brought him to tears. Captain Gawain. Lady Primrose. Sir Peter. His name stung the most, tugging at his fast beating heart. ��

The beast stepped forward. It was definitely a big one. Perhaps the goodbyes he had bid his siblings-in-arms when he left the ransacked village was premature. Faced with an opponent this menacing, it was apparent that he would be joining them soon enough.

Still… there was her. She deserved a better fate than dinner for an ungrateful beast. He charged the beast, trying to plunge his blade into its chest. He managed to penetrate its thick pelt, but was knocked by a powerful swipe from its claws before he could even break bone.

Alfharis knew he couldn’t let the creature notice her. He immediately slashed at its flanks from the floor. The beast let out a low growl and tried to bite his thigh. Though pinched by the pressure, his armor protected him from having his flesh torn. With what might he could muster, he jerked his leg out of the beast’s mouth and rolled a bit away from the campfire.

Again trying to keep the creature’s focus on him, he slashed at its tail, near the base. He must have got a good shot in, because the creature let out a wretched yell. The tail swiped at him in retaliation, but the creature was clearly in too much pain from the wound to do any real damage.

Alfharis took the opportunity to raise himself onto a knee and then slashed at the tail again, this time closer to its end. This managed to successfully provoke the creature, as it finally turned around to face him properly.

“Good luck, kid.” Alfharis thought before bolting into the darkness. He frantically looked behind him, hoping that his plan had succeeded and the creature was following him, away from the campfire and the young girl it was meant to protect. Two glimmering eyes, harder to make out in the darkness, followed him.

As he ran, he tripped over a root. The ensuing tumble robbed him of his last wind.

“Darn…” he thought. He had hoped to put up more of a fight for his grand finale. But in this state, he could barely move. He was too sore. All he could hope for now was for the creature to quickly finish him off by biting his neck like an efficient predator. They were not exactly creatures of efficiency though. Quite the opposite, in fact. They had a reputation across the continent as vicious killers who made a bloodbath of their victims. They adored playing with their dinner. But maybe Alfharis would get a miracle.

And a miracle he received.

From the darkness, a burst of flames blasted the creature. Though the flames gave off little light, they burned bright enough for Alfharis to make out a masked figure. It seemed to be holding an apparatus. After the first burst of flames faded, he heard a foot step forward followed by the sight of a second burst of flames. The creature fell to the ground and the masked figure continued to bathe it in fire with its apparatus.

Alfharis let out a long sigh of relief. He heard the figure swiftly shift its stance in response.

“Thank you…” Alfharis spoke slowly. Truly, he had no way of knowing if the masked figure meant to save him. Nevertheless, he felt it was safer than letting the figure think him a threat.

The figure stood quietly before finally speaking. “Do you need help?” It had a soft voice that seemed to echo a bit. It reverberated like when one speaks into a mason jar.

“Admittedly, I do,” he responded earnestly.

He heard the rustle of footsteps and shuffling and managed to find the figure’s hand, reaching for him in the dark. With its help, he was pulled up to his feet.

“I’m looking for someone,” the creature informed him.

“I… see?” Alfharis said. It seemed his gratitude was being cashed out immediately.

“A little girl. Have you seen one?”

“I… have.” Alfharis worried about what the figure’s intentions were for the girl, but also feared the consequences of lying to someone holding an apparatus capable of shooting fire. “Why do you seek her?”

“She is my daughter,” the figure said.

Daughter? He had thought the girl was the only survivor of the raid. Well… not counting Alfharis himself. Perhaps some had managed to escape?

“Where is she?” the figure asked.

“She’s just over here.” Alfharis led the figure to the campfire where the little girl continued to sleep, despite all the noises made during the battle. Even now, he hesitated to wake her, but if this was truly her mother, then she deserved to be reunited with her.

As the two walked into the ring of light created by the dying fire, he was able to make out more of the figure. The creature wore a black suit which, when coupled with its mask, covered every inch of skin. What stood out however, was the figure’s brilliant cornblue hair sticking out from the back of its mask. As Alfharis mused over the unusual color, the figure removed its mask, revealing more unusual features: periwinkle skin, spiked ears, and glassy eyes with dark blue sclera lacking any iris or pupils.

“A fae?” Alfharis said aloud.

“A changeling,” it corrected him. “Just like her.”

Alfharis looked back at the girl. Black hair. Dull ears. Olive skin. She certainly looked nothing like the changeling in the black suit before him.

“We changelings do not raise our young. We leave them among the mortals to be raised by parents whose children died in the womb. Normally, it would not be time to collect her. However, without her caretakers, she would surely die. So, I must take her back with me to the realm of the fae.”

“What awaits her in the realm of the fae?”

“She will be my plaything, as all my children are. Admittedly, I’m not sure how exciting she will be to play with when she is still not ripe. However, she may surprise me! We shall have to see.”

“A… plaything? She’s a child. Do you truly see her as only a toy?” With those words, Alfharis began to reach for his sword.

“Well not only a toy. Sometimes, I like my children enough to stay friends with them even after moving on to a new child to play with. After all, those who I don’t befriend usually try to kill me. It’s the only way to inherit in the faerie court, you see. And so, I usually have to kill them first. If another opportunistic offspring doesn’t beat me to it. The blood game can be its own kind of fun, after all!

But it is so dreadfully peaceful at the moment. I could not bare it any longer. It’s why I don’t just wait to see if she manages to survive on her own a bit before fetching her. Or just have another kid and wait for it to grow up. After all, they only take 28 years to ripen.”

Alfharis did not know what to do with any of this information. All he knew was he could not allow this young girl to fall into the changeling’s hands.

“Please… she’s only a child. You cannot subject her to that,” he pleaded.

“Really now? Are you trying to ransom a child off to a fae?” The changeling rolled its eyes before digging in its pockets and pulling out a sack of coins that she tossed at Alfharis. “Here. This should be enough human gold to appease you.”

Alfharis eyed the pouch with suspicion. But upon inspection, it contained 12 gold pieces. That would be enough to keep Alfharis set for years, if not the rest of his life.

“I cannot accept this,” he said.

“More? Ugh, you humans are stingy. I can’t imagine you would have gotten more from selling her, but nevertheless…” The changeling pulled out another sack before Alfharis stopped her.

“No. I cannot accept this because you cannot take her. She just lost the only family she ever knew. The home she grew up in. An entire village of culture and tradition. She deserves a chance to mourn the life she knew before being thrust into one of entertaining an immortal and risking being killed by a sibling looking to claim their inheritance.”

“You mortals are so dramatic. Look, if you thought the carnage at that village was tough, just wait until you see me when I’m bored. Don’t you wonder why immortals reproduce? It’s not because we’re worried about the death of our species. We are so well established, we could never have another child again, and I’m sure we’d still outlive existence itself. The reason we reproduce is to witness the amusement that is life! Now. I am returning home with a companion. Hand her over.”

“...A companion you say? That is all you seek?”

“Yes! Have you humans changed language again so much so that you don’t understand me?”

“Does the companion need to be her?”

“Huh? An interesting question. No, not really. An animal certainly won’t do, though. I tried them eons ago and they stop being interesting after only a few weeks. I need an intelligent creature. Which I’m hoping she’ll grow into soon enough.”

Alfharis got on one knee. “May you take me in her stead,” he said.

“Oh? Fascinating. You are aware that a mortal who chooses to reside in the fae realm is condemned to it forever, right?”

“Please. I have nothing left in this world.” He once again thought of Sir Peter, who sacrificed himself to the onslaught of raiders so that Alfharis and the girl could escape. “Saving her… her whole village, really. It should be my last mission. And even if I failed the rest… If I can protect her, then perhaps our efforts won’t have been for nothing.”

“Yes, yes… So you are fine being my plaything?” It clasped his face with its gloved hand.

“Yes… I ask just one thing.”

“What is that?”

“I will not leave her side without a guarantee of her safety.”

“Well that much is easy!” the changeling exclaimed. Crouching over her, it patted her head, causing her to shimmer slightly, all without disturbing her sleep. “A charm! It will protect her from all bodily harm.”

That easy? Could the fae have blessed the villagers, preventing this tragedy? Were his compatriots slain for nothing? Alfharis refused to dwell on this line of thought. Alfharis took from his satchel a quill and parchment and left a note for the girl telling her of an inn she could stay at. If she showed the owners the crest on his helmet, which he proceeded to remove and place over the note, he was sure they would let her stay. He stuffed the satchel with the packs of gold given to him by the changeling and with that, his preparations were complete.

“Alright, I’m ready.” And with his signal, the changeling led him away, to the world of the fae.

#plaguetober #plaguetober2021 #bruh i was expecting this to be shorter than my day 1 entry #i didn't even know if I would be able to make my 1k goal #i somehow hit 2k words in this one #HOW #probably because I put filler in accidentally #oh well #shut up zordon

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little-ideas · 3 years ago

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Once Upon a Fantasy

Invitation to The Mystic Dance hosted by @little-butterfly-writes here

This was so much fun to do! Thank you for having me :3 I started writing and the story just took on a life of its own resulting in my longest piece yet ^^;

I know I don’t usually write OCs, but this story centers around Vanderwood and my CMC Ao (though Saeyoung also features a bit). The setting is supposed to be in an older time, but I have no sense of history’s fashions, technologies, and music, so please just consider this either a fantasy world or some hodgepodged amalgamation of decades/centuries

Hope you enjoy! ^ w ^

Lengthened shadows flickered about the fringes of paper, the glow of lantern flame warm yet small in the dawn of night. Said paper was of fine quality but wanting in splendor next to the companion twould respond. The clinking of metal nib against glass dotted silence, followed by the soft scratch of pen on the paper’s surface.

Dear Mister Vanderwood,

the letter began, each character drawn slow and exact, crafted with as much precision their writer could muster. Before her leaned a slate, smudged with chalk and the scribbles of drafted note from which she now copied. Ao much preferred the flow of ink on parchment to the drag of chalk on rock, but paper cost a pretty penny and could not be wasted on the idle ramblings of initial thoughts, so the slate had done until she knew precisely what she would write. She only wished she knew where to send her letters instead of waiting for Saeyoung to take and deliver them; but no matter, such were simply the ways of the rich, she supposed.

Glancing at the box upon her shelf, she wondered when she might receive another letter from the gentleman.

~*~

He came the week the invitations were delivered. Town abuzz and bursting with excitement for the Mint Palace Ball, Ao had nary a hope she might see Saeyoung’s companion once more before the festivities began, yet he had appeared at her door in lieu of his friend.

“Saeyoung’s busy with the dance, then?” Ao questioned, pouring two cups of coffee. “Couldn’t escape with you?”

“He’s under extra watch after sneaking away too many times.” Vanderwood responded.

Ao flinched, had it been her fault? Vanderwood must have noticed for-

“He likes to skip his tasks to play with the town’s strays,” he explained, sipping from the cup she handed him. Ao smiled, where once Vanderwood had hesitated to drink, now he waited no longer.

Taking her own sip, Ao mulled over Vanderwood’s recent tidings. Saeyoung would be unable to visit until after the dance -her cats would be displeased at that for he always brought them delightful treats- and she would be unable to send any letters. A shame, but she understood and selfish she should not be. Not now, for if Saeyoung was busy, then surely her guest must also be, yet he was spending time here, with her.

“Vanderwood,” she began, trying to keep her tone light, “is it really ok to be here? Surely, you must be busy, too.”

At this he grinned, and for the briefest of moments, Ao felt her heart stop.

“Whose work do you think Saeyoung is doing?”

She blinked, answer unexpected. Then, slowly, his words sunk in and Ao, too, began to smile. Then giggle. Then could not help but laugh alongside him, tears dotting the corners of their eyes. Through Vanderwood’s letters and his own boasts, Ao knew that Saeyoung -their energetic, brilliant, rapscallion of a friend- had a habit of absconding to destinations unnamed and, though she knew not what it might be, forcing Vanderwood to do their work instead. How appropriate, then, that Vanderwood act in kind for the busiest event of the year. They both knew Saeyoung would not learn his lesson.

As the laughter lulled and soft silence settled betwixt them, Ao could not help but admire her friend- the ease of his countenance; his acceptance of her “tiny beasts” pawing at his sides -creatures she and Saeyoung adored but he was not particularly fond; the divide between his conversations both oral and written -the former dictated by necessity, the latter far more relaxed. Upon their first meeting, Ao had found Vanderwood to be terse and intimidating, despite Saeyoung’s introduction, but through months of correspondence, she had grown to know him -far more verbose in letter- and thought him endearing. She feared not the silence amongst them anymore.

It was he who spoke first.

“Will you be going to the dance?” His voice startled her, causing her to jump, and he hid his smile behind the rim of his cup.

“Pardon?”

“The Mystic Dance at the Mint Palace, will you be attending?”

Ao paused before responding. She supposed she should, the whole town would be off, the food was sure to be delicious, and she might even perchance to see her two friends; however, people were different in the eyes of society, and she wondered if the night might end what little relations they currently had. An event open to all, free of status on paper, did not mean such conventions would be adhered to in practice. Looking at Vanderwood, though, she shook head of such notions; he and Saeyoung would not do such, and to think as so would despair their reputation. She smiled at him.

“I will if you teach me to dance.”

~*~

The counts had been easy; the closeness, movement, and posture, not so much. Vanderwood had come several times since his last visit, true to his promise of being her instructor, and Ao might have felt bad were it not for the heat flaming her cheeks whenever she recalled Saeyoung’s laughter at her miserable attempts at turning during their last visit (how he escaped, she knew not, only that she pitied the poor soul waiting on him). She would learn, she’d vowed, if only out of spite.

Determined not to become a spectacle again, Ao’s evenings had been filled with enough practice that her head was now constantly counting off 3s, her shoulders held a dull ache, and the furniture had been misplaced for days. Yet as Vanderwood now led her around the room, she had not glanced at her feet and had only stepped on his once. Maybe twice. Alright, three times, but in her defense, she had tripped! Or so she insisted to Saeyoung, whose rapid applause came the moment they separated.

“Marvelous, indeed! Would have thought you a different lass!” He teased.

Ao stuck her tongue at him, and Saeyoung leaned against his friend, arm draped across his forehead. “Forsooth, Mary, our lady doth wound me!”

Vanderwood sighed at their antics, yet his smile betrayed his amusement.

“Perhaps you’d care to dance with the lady?” He gestured to Ao; brow quirked.

“And risk my toes?” Saeyoung gasped, “I’d never!”

“Saeyoung Choi!” Ao shouted, attempting to stomp on his shoes. “You absolute heathen!” She missed and the two began a chase about the room, jerking knees and squashing stones, until Saeyoung ran back towards Vanderwood.

“Help me, Vandy!” He cried. “A demon gives chase!” His attempt to hide was thwarted by Vanderwood’s arms surrounding his own and holding him in place, grin stretched across his face. Saeyoung gasped in mock betrayal -twisting to get out- before slumping forwards and extending a foot in defeat. A firm press upon the top of his shoe and Saeyoung was freed, rejoining his friends’ sides to complete an afternoon of mirth and merriment.

~*~

Laughter echoed down the streets as people clapped and cheered -fiddlers skipped along the cobblestone roads whilst onlooking peddlers tapped rhythms with the boxes of their wares. Shops were closing, but with the dawning of the ball in a few days’ time, taverns opened early, seeking to make coin from their many guests. In town, nary a room twas available at any inn, yet still the folk kept coming.

Parading after the fiddlers, people poured into the streets, bouncing with the beats as they sashayed along towards open spaces. All this Ao and Vanderwood had witnessed through her windows yet remained inside. Now, rocking upon her heels, Ao grabbed Vanderwood’s hand, tugging him towards the door and the festivities beyond.

Initially, Vanderwood had no intention of participating in such jovialities -his latest letter from the week prior apologizing for his previous and most likely continued absence- but Saeyoung had pulled him from his desk, knocked upon Ao’s door, thrust him at her, and vanished within the throngs of people scurrying about. Graciously, she had offered him welcome and rest in her abode, but Vanderwood had caught her gaze frequently flit to the outside merriment. Having arrived unannounced, it would not have done to kept her from whatever plans she may have had, or so he told himself. Truthfully, he, too, wished to join the crowds -the carefree and lively spirits of the townsfolk were always a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of High Society. As Ao sternly told her cats to mind the house and behave, before pulling him with her into the party beyond; however, he wondered if perhaps that were not his only reasoning.

It was not his only reasoning, Vanderwood realized, watching his friend dance about, the fires illuminating her smile as a new tune picked up. He saw her beam when her eyes met his own, then beckon him over, but he shook his head, lifting his goblet. She rolled her eyes and huffed at him, yet quick as her smile had fallen, it returned, and she twirled around once more.

Vanderwood took a swig of drink, attempting to ignore the beat which seemed to thrum louder now in his chest. He should rest while he could -Ao would soon drag him out to join her, of that, he was sure.

True to form, she had sought him out after a few more songs had pass, laughing as she spun and planted her feet firmly in front of him.

“Mary Vanderwood!” She panted, grin undermining her admonishment. “One does not simply turn down an invitation to dance!” Vanderwood merely watched as she struggled to regain her breath.

“Drink?” He offered at last, holding out his cup as the notes of a new song began. He chuckled when Ao frowned at him before downing its contents.

“Well,” she sighed, “one song can wait.” Then, as though realizing what she had just done, stammered a “thank you” and handed back his cup.

When the music began anew, Ao tugged Vanderwood towards the crowd of dancers, weaving betwixt the bystanders, pattering along seemingly as though she had missed not a beat of song. And as she kicked up her skirts and twirled about, pulling him deeper in with her, Vanderwood was glad the fire’s glow concealed his cheeks’ blush.

~*~

Well, tonight was the night. Donning the dress before her, Ao prayed it would be nice enough -what little remnants of her wages she had after necessities and paper, she had saved for the fabric to sew a proper, formal dress. Though simple in design and decoration, the dress fit her well and complemented her complexion -vibrant red to catch the eye, with a silhouette that tapered in towards her waist before flowing out about her once more. Practicing a few steps, Ao found she rather liked the way it fanned around her when she spun.

Against her neck sat not pearls, but a ring -a memento of family long gone- and she gripped it tight, wishing for all to go well. Drawing her cloak about her, invitation in hand, Ao left for a fate unknown.

~*~

Ao blinked once. Twice. Pinched her hand and -ow! - this was real. The gentleman before her -noble of birth, correspondent of the treasured letters she kept within the box upon her shelf, beloved friend- stood now with hand outstretched and crown atop silken, brown locks. He chuckled at her reaction.

“Well?” He asked, nudging her hand. “I believe one does not simply turn down an invitation to dance.”

Timidly, Ao placed her hand in Vanderwood’s, and he pulled her closer -left hand closing around hers, right palm tucked against her back- before leading her about the floor.

“You never told me!” She hissed, gaze flickering to his crown before eyeing those around them. He laughed, a familiar sound in so foreign an environment.

“You never asked.”

Ao frowned, about to retort when they spun and she tripped, stepping on his foot. For a moment, they both froze. Then, slowly, they giggled, chuckled, laughed, roared -voices filling the room, and their eyes with tears. Vanderwood took Ao’s hand once more and continued leading her around the space, and for the first time that day, she relaxed.

And if Saeyoung saw the pink that tinged both their cheeks? No, no he did not.

#mysme #mystic messenger #Vanderwood #mint palace ball #the mystic dance #saeyoung choi #whoo we broke 2k!!! :D #ao is a commoner and vanderwood the king if that needs clarification #oc #vandy may be ooc but he's king and yolo

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oikawa-tuwu · 4 years ago

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Exit, Stage Right

🎭 Chapter 12 (oikawa x reader smau)

It was only a few minutes after texting the groupchat your location that you hear footsteps behind you, and then someone settling themselves on one of the swings.

“Yahaba, if you’re here to drag me home-”

“Wrong on both accounts,” your companion chuckles, making you do a double take. You really had just taken in a basic height and weight in the corner of your eye, so it was a shock turn and see not your neighbor and best friend but Oikawa sitting on the swing next to you.

“Hi,” He says, softly, strangely vulnerable in the fading daylight. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine,” you bite back, instinctively. “I couldn’t care less about Satomi.”

“I couldn’t care less about the stair that always trips me on the way up to the costume loft, but my knees still sting when I land wrong.”

You scoff, kicking off the ground with your feet and starting the slow momentum. You swing your legs. In, out. In, out. “Where did this wizened old man persona come from and what did you do with Oikawa Tooru?”

Oikawa laughs. “Hey, I can be smart sometimes.”

“Emphasis on sometimes,” you say, but this time you’re smiling.

Petulant as ever, Oikawa pouts, looking up at you from where he had propped his chin against his hand. “You’re mean. That’s it, I’m done trying to cheer you up.”

“Nah, I don’t think you are,” you say, pumping your legs faster. In, out. In, out.

“Oh really?” Oikawa asks, tilting his head curiously. “And why is that?”

“If you really stopped talking to someone because they were mean, why are you still friends with Iwaizumi?”

The boy beside you sucks in a breath. Kind of a laugh, but too short and too shocked to really be humorous at first. When he lets the breath go, he’s back to laughing. “I guess you got me there. Would you believe me if I said that really I just took pity on an unfortunate and unattractive guy with no social skills and pretended to be his friend to make him feel better?”

Hoping your gaze falls somewhere on the “withering” scale, you shoot Oikawa a look. “No. And for the record, Iwaizumi is definitely not unattractive.”

“Alright,” Oikawa says, with a soft chuckle, but there’s something uncomfortable in the tightness of the action. “Well, anyways, I still came here to apologize, so… I’m sorry. I really didn’t realize how unhealthy of a relationship I had with all these girls. I always thought of my flirting as harmless fun, and the dates were just humoring the girls, but I see now it was just part of a narcissistic fantasy. And I’m working on pretending to be things I’m not in order to please other people.”

“Yahaba and Watari said you told Satomi and her friends to back off.”

“I did. I tried to at least.” Oikawa winces. “There goes my free bentos for lunch.”

“I’m sure you’ll find some girl eventually who will make you bentos because she loves you,” You say, skidding to a stop on your swing. Dust from the friction dirties your uniform, but its nothing compared to the sticky coffee on your shirt. “Not because she’s infatuated with a facsimile of a handsome teenage film star.”

“The Scully to my Mulder,” Oikawa mutters, quietly, almost like he didn’t intend for you to hear, before turning on a blinding smile and continuing, “But you think I’m handsome?”

Without missing a beat, you reach over to push him off the swing. Thankfully, Oikawa then busies himself with whining and pouting and dusting dirt off of his uniform and not looking at you and potentially realizing how flushed your cheeks had gotten and how fast your heart rate had raced.

There was the smile.

Not the fake one he turned on for his fangirls, for Satomi, for the stage, but his true smile that you really had only seen a handful of times. It was a true, genuine smile and he had smiled it for you.

Oh, no.

Oikawa stands, stretching out a hand to help you out of your swing. “Can I walk you home?”

For some unknown reason, you say yes.

You walk in silence for the most part, other than pointing out directions, but it's a comfortable quiet. It's a nice change from the Oikawa you see at rehearsals, constantly flirting with girls or annoying Iwaizumi or blabbering about something.

After a few moments, a cold breeze blows through, and you can’t help but shiver.

“Do you want my jacket?” Oikawa asks, already shrugging out of the fabric and offering it to you, and you blink at the chivalry behind it. Taking your silence as hesitation, he continues, “It’s my fault that your uniform is wet, which is part of the reason you’re so cold, so really, I’m just making us even-”

You snatch the jacket before he can keep talking, and he shuts up with a smug grin of self-satisfaction. Admittingly, the jacket does help, and its not much longer until you’re in your neighborhood.

“Yahaba lives around here, too, right?” Oikawa asks, and you nod.

“How’d you know?”

He shoots you a wry grin. “I do read your tweets sometimes.”

For some reason, the thought of Oikawa scrolling through your profile doesn’t fill you with disgust, rather a strange sense of satisfaction.

Oh, no.

“Y/n? Who is it that you’re walking with?”

“Hello, Mrs. L/n! I’m Oikawa Tooru, Y/n’s friend from drama! It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Oh! Would you like to come in for a cup of tea, dear?”

O h , n o.

Previous ... Masterlist ... Next

(A/N: I literally spent like two hours trying to format this chapter correctly, going back and forth from tumblr mobile to desktop to html to get it looking correctly bc I wanted to put a below the cut in there, but I gave up the third time tumblr scrapped my draft 🙃 sooo sorry about the long post without a keep reading button!!)

Taglist: @fangirling-25-8 @multifandomphenomena @moonlightreetops @ensworks @it-me-720 @harajukukitsune @sempiternal-amour @semiathleticnerdykid @luvelyxp @theduvetpirate @bethbat @starwrite-er @icy-hot @cowboy-doll @hurtbycanonthoughts @shigarakiskitten @kaaidalupita @nekoma-hoe

#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu smau #haikyuu!!#hq #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa #hq!! x reader #hq!!#hq!! x you #hq!! smau #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #oikawa smau #exit stage right smau

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null-whump · 4 years ago

Text

It’s whumptober baby

I’m so excited for this you guys don’t even know

Warnings: Restraints, stabbing/cutting, knives, whump on a character who appears to be a minor but is not actually a minor (Felix is called ‘kid’ by other characters)

Word Count: 1,900

Whumptober Prompt – Waking up Restrained

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The first thing I noticed was the cold, and the wind. Then, as I slowly became more aware of my surroundings, the coarse ropes around my wrists, and a hard, rough surface against my back. I forced my eyes open, blinking away the heaviness of sleep that lingered unnaturally on my mind. My vision was blurry, but I could make out trees, a flickering light, and – people. Four of them, moving indistinctively. I pulled at my wrists, craning my neck in an attempt to see the bindings. I was tied, standing upright, against a tree, my arms pulled behind me. I realized I could hear the people speaking, arguing, it sounded like.

Four people, and I knew one thing for certain – Varren was not among them. I wouldn’t put it past him to tie me to a tree in the middle of the night, but he was gone. Away on a three-day trip, alone. So where was I, and how did I get here?

“Hey, jackasses, he’s awake.”

Great. He sounded friendly. My vision slowly started to clear, enough to see two of the figures approaching. One of them grabbed my hair and roughly pulled my head up, knocking it against the tree in the process.

“You said he would stay out for longer,” the first figure, man, said, glaring accusingly at the second figure, who was holding my hair – a woman, I could tell now, with brown skin and long black hair.

“I said that it would last six to twelve hours. Besides, he looks pretty out of it.” She turned her attention to me and waved her hand in front of my face.

I flinched back, as much as the hand in my hair would allow, and the woman laughed.

“Jumpy, are you?” She teased. “That’ll make this more fun.”

The man glared at her back. “You’re not here for fun,” he emphasized. “You’re here as hired help.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it,” she shot back, releasing her grip on my hair. “How else are you planning to get anything good out of him?”

I looked between the two of them, taking stock of their appearance now that my vision was nearly back. The man was tall and muscular, with short blond hair and a scar down the left side of his face. The woman was shorter, and a maliciously eager light danced in her eyes. It reminded me of Varren. I hated it.

“Would you two shut up?” A third voice, a woman, interjected. “The cat has ears, you know.”

The woman rolled her eyes and turned away. The man hesitated, glancing me over once more before following. I looked to where the third voice had come from and identified another man and woman sitting by a fire. Four of them, one of me. Not great odds.

I considered my options. On the one hand, did I really want to escape? Whoever these people were, and whatever their intentions were for kidnapping me, they must dislike Varren, and that was enough for me to have some good feelings towards them. Even if they had knocked me out and tied me to a tree. Maybe I could even help them.

On the other hand, all it would take for Varren to realize what had happened was a quick check inside my head, something that was all too easy and that he enjoyed doing when I least expected it. And when he found out I had even considered helping these people, whoever they were…I shuddered.

“Enough arguing!”

My attention was pulled back to the group as the second woman, tall with blonde hair, shoved past the others and towards me.

“We’re on a time limit,” she said to her companions. “If we want to get this done, we need to start.”

The blond man looked away; his mouth set in a hard line. The second man, a shorter figure with brown hair and the beginnings of a beard, stood from his place by the fire. “Tali’s right,” he said to the blond. “You don’t have to like it.”

He approached me alongside the blonde woman, Tali. The dark-haired woman hung back, an unsettling grin on her face. I found myself shrinking back, but with the tree behind me, I didn’t have anywhere to go.

“We’re not going to hurt you unless we have to,” the man said, as if that was supposed to be comforting. “Give us what we need, and we’ll all be happy.”

I decided it was about time I said something. “Who are you? And what do you want?”

“Hey, we’re asking the questions!” Tali snapped.

The man held up a placating hand. “It’s alright, Tali. He has a right to know.” He ignored Tali’s eye roll and continued. “This is Tali, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. My name is Jace.” He gestured to the blond man. “That’s Tali’s brother, Rolf.” He pointed to the dark-haired woman. “And of course, Avis.”

“Now that we’re done with introductions,” Tali said, “could we get back to what’s important?”

Jace smiled disarmingly. “Of course. Now, if you cooperate this will go much smoother for all of us,” he reminded me. “All we want is for you to help us steal something from Varren Evrenden.”

He said it so confidently, so casually that for several seconds all I could do was stare at him. “Oh, is that all?” I asked in disbelief. “You didn’t seem to have any trouble kidnapping me, why didn’t you take what you want then?”

Jace shook his head. “Not possible. He keeps this item with him at all times.”

“Help us get it, and we won’t have to hurt you,” Tali said, though it sounded more like a threat than a reassurance. “It’s a charm, one of a kind.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I told them. I wasn’t lying either – whatever ‘charm’ they were after, Varren had never shown it to me.

Tali scowled. “Don’t make this difficult.”

“I’m telling the truth,” I insisted. “I’ve never seen any charm!”

“You’re his familiar!” Tali shot back. “Why wouldn’t he tell you about it?”

I nearly laughed out loud. “That doesn’t mean anything to him!”

“He’s telling the truth,” Avis chimed before Tali could respond. “The kid is worthless.” She shook her head. “There goes your one plan.”

Jace frowned. “You’re sure?”

Avis laughed. “Am I sure? What did you hire me for? He’s so easy to read it’s pathetic. I thought cats were supposed to be good at telepathy, but here we are.”

I clenched my jaw. A high-level empath, I guessed, high enough to tell when people were being truthful. I was so used to having my guard down around Varren that I hadn’t even thought to mentally shield myself.

“We can still use him.” Rolf, who had been observing silently, spoke up. “Maybe the witch will negotiate when he hears we have his familiar.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” I asked. “He doesn’t give a damn what happens to me!”

“I find that hard to believe,” Tali said. “Every witch I know has at least some sort of attachment to their familiar. Why should Evrenden be any different?”

The absurdity of it nearly made me laugh out loud. “Do you not know anything about him at all? I’m probably last on the list of things he cares about.”

Tali looked to Avis. “Is he lying?” She demanded.

Avis shrugged. “No. Either he has really bad self-esteem issues, or Evrenden is a heartless bastard. Which we already knew.”

Tali turned back to glare at me, as if it were somehow my fault that Varren was a sorry excuse for a human being. “We can still use him,” she decided.

“Oh?” Jace inquired.

“If we can surprise Evrenden when he doesn’t expect it, we’ll have a chance at overpowering him.”

Rolf shifted uneasily. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Agreed,” Avis said. “I didn’t sign up for a suicide mission.”

Tali scowled at the two of them. “What else do you suggest?”

“We all know I’m only in this for the money,” Avis said. “Don’t ask me to solve your problems.”

“An ambush is the best option we have.” Jace looked apologetically at Rolf. “Sorry, but once again, your sister is right. We must take the risk. Our employer will not be happy if we return empty-handed.”

“At least someone is thinking clearly.” Tali turned back to me. “Alright kid, start talking.”

I didn’t let myself entertain the thought of helping them. Ashamed as I was to admit it, I was more afraid of what Varren would do to me to let the potential good outweigh it.

“I’m not telling you anything.”

Avis smirked. “Guess we’re doing this my way.”

I felt a shiver of fear make its way up my spine as she approached, and consoled myself with the thought that nothing she had planned could possibly touch what Varren had already done. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt, though.

Tali and Jace stepped aside. Rolf looked away. I got the feeling he didn’t exactly approve of Avis, or her apparent penchant for torture, but he also wasn’t doing anything to stop her.

“Last chance,” Avis taunted, pulling a knife out of her belt.

I didn’t say anything. She stepped closer and held the blade against my face, the sharp edge barely digging into my skin. It was cold against my skin, and uncomfortably close to my left eye.

“Cat got your tongue?” She smirked. I suppressed an eye roll. “You have quite an adorable face,” she mused, digging in the knife ever so slightly. Not enough to draw blood – not yet. “Not a single scar on it.” She leaned closer, too close, and I was pressing myself further against the tree despite knowing it was useless. “I can fix that.”

She twisted the knife sharply, and I hissed in pain as it cut a line of fire down my face. Warm blood flowed down my face, catching in the collar that was still around my neck. It hurt, but not bad.

“A fun warmup,” Avis said brightly. “I like to start small.” She flipped the knife in her hand lifted to my shoulder, this time not waiting at all before plunging it into my shoulder.

I cried out, my vision going white for an instant. I shut my eyes tightly and forced myself to breathe, but it was hard when I swear I felt the knife hit bone.

“Hey, stay with me.” I felt a hard smack against my injured cheek and forced my eyes open. Avis was still smiling. “That’s better! Feeling more inclined to talk now?”

I clenched my jaw and glared at her. She seemed unfazed. Then she took hold of the knife and twisted, and I must have screamed but all I was aware of was white-hot pain – I didn’t know it was possible for a knife to hurt this bad – then it finally stopped and I struggled to breathe through the feeling of the knife that was still in my shoulder, all while Avis stood there, grinning.

“Having fun yet?” She moved the knife, no more than a centimeter, and I shut my mouth against a whimper. She leaned close again, jostling the knife as she did and causing more pain to shoot through my body. “We’re only getting started.”

––––––––––––––––

Tag List! Let me know if you want to be added or removed, or if I somehow missed your name.

@castielamigos-whump-side-blog @shameless-whumper @whumpity--whump--whump @whumpitywhumpwhump @nervous-writer @this-zombie-will-eat-you @abyssshifter @whumpersworld @whatwasmyprevioususername @scared-and-crying @whatwhumpcomments

#whumptober2020 #no.1 #waking up restrained #OC #fic #writing #stabbing tw #cutting tw #knives tw #my ocs: felix #my ocs: avis #whump #nonhuman whumpee

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sonicringbond · 4 years ago

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Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 54

Finally, we are here. The last scene of Season 1. There will be some huge changes coming, or at least they feel huge to me. But none of that will come until after this scene, so let me get out of the way so everyone can read...

“It has been too long, old friend,” Ix’s disembodied voice stated from where it now rose from his autogolem body.

Sonic could barely tell as a blast of energy from Rosy had sent him tumbling and he had not quite righted himself yet. As he attempted to, he heard Ix continue.

“My apologies for being so long in waking you. It took some time to learn what had happened after my own shameful defeat. Though, I owe a great deal to the foreign Ring Mage and the Medium who serves as your present, unworthy host.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Pir’Oth,” Rosy, but clearly not Rosy comforted the autogolem. “I have grown rather attached to this Medium. She has been touched by so many of my brethren. It is exhilarating to see so pitiable a Medium so touched by them. The Gaia Twins, The God of Destruction. Illumina. Even Solaris has touched her. I can hardly fathom what makes this girl so special, but she is. That, and she is far from one who appreciates boredom. She has a love of entertainment to merely match my own. I may even keep her once I’ve recovered my own body.”

“Not happening…”

“Oh~? Did you still have something to say, Dirt Dweller?”

“I have plenty to say,” Sonic grunted as he forced himself to his feet. “But the only thing you need to hear is ‘let her go’.”

“You do not realize your position,” Ix interceded on behalf of the entity that possessed Rosy. “You are but a frail, meaningless mortal. My old friend is the one and only rightful ruler of this world.”

“I doubt it,” Sonic spat as he noticed a giant Red Star appear at the center of the sphere, the bottom loosing form and becoming a cloud of Rings. Still, he pressed on. “I heard you name a lot of familiar faces a moment ago. Believe it or not, but a couple I’ve helped and made pretty good friends with, and a couple more I had to stop from destroying the world. Can you guess who’s still standing?”

“You expect me to believe that, Dirt Dweller?” the entity that possessed her scoffed at Sonic’s claims. turning Rosy’s now red right eye and Gear Star Ring iris left eye onto Sonic,

“I’m guessing you’re controlling her via a Ring Bond,” Sonic surmised as he started to walk towards Rosy, even as the ground beneath him began to lose its supports as they turned to Rings. “But you didn’t touch her memories at all, or you would have noticed. She watched me fight Chaos, and she believed I could beat Dark Gaia. Or maybe it’s just because Rings in the lands under that troublesome egg in the sky absorb people’s memories so her memories aren’t there for you to pic at.”

“You are surprisingly wise, Dirt Dweller,” the entity commended Sonic. “But I can make a Ring Bond with you and silence you in an instance, no less gain all of your memories. After all, they seem to be unnaturally intact. I never would have believed there were any who could resist my mastery of the Rings. Still, even through this vessel it will be no problem dealing with a simple, boastful, Dirt Dweller.”

Spinning up from the rapidly growing cloud of Rings and Ring Gates, a single Ring presented itself between Rosy and Sonic. The smirk on Rosy’s face deepened the scowl on Sonic’s and entertained the entity that possessed her. Still, Sonic walked forward unfaltering. It bothered Ix as he had seen the speeds Sonic could run at.

“Perhaps it would be best if we simply eliminated him now, Benedict,” Ix suggested, and at last gave a name to the entity possessing Rosy.

“And where would the fun in that be Pir’oth,” Benedict laughed through Rosy. “This Dirt Dweller, he is so fun I may yet let him flounder. It has been too long that I’ve slept, and to be greeted by so perfect a gift. I can hardly discard it so readily.”

“Then I shall devote myself to planning your awakening ready for this one’s challenge,” Ix held from arguing and turned to enter a Ring Gate that awaited him. He kept his blue glowing eyes on Rosy a moment longer though. “I will not allow your need for pleasure to keep you asleep any longer. The world shall know once more of the name Emperor Benedict Yoluku of the Empire of the Ring. Stay well old friend, I hope to see you once more, far sooner than later.”

“And now he’s gone and ruined the surprise,” Yoluku laughed, watching Ix disappear through a Ring. Surprise came to Rosy’s face as Yoluku turned his attention back to Sonic. “Oh? Is there something amusing.”

“Don’t mind me,” Sonic snickered, even as he held a tight smirk. “I just didn’t realize how accurate I was. Benedict? Yolk? Come on, you’re like a breakfast food, Eggs Benedict.”

“Ah, so the Dirt Dweller has a sense of humor.”

“I bet you look like an egg too, don’t you,” Sonic pressed, obviously agitating Yoluku. “Well, you know, or I guess you don’t since she’s missing her memories, but scrambling eggs is my specialty.”

Stopping before the Ring Yoluku had summoned, Sonic casually collected it. “A foolish move, Dirt Dweller. That was your last link to this precious girl. Soon the floor shall fall out from under you and you’ll be helpless to take her back. Unless that is how you foreign Dirt Dwellers beg for mercy. It’s so hard to say. It has been ages since the concept of foreigners could even be had. Little matter, I accept this girl as your gift and will let you fall to where the Rings may take you.”

Sonic had not been paying attention to the fact that Rosy had been floating this whole time, but it was impossible to ignore when she floated down to the walkway he was standing on, the whole thing turning to Rings at the touch of her feet leaving him with nowhere left to stand. Naturally, he fell helplessly.

“How boring,” Yoluku remarked, a look of disappointment weighing down Rosy’s normally cheerful features. “I suppose I shouldn’t have let his boasting get my hopes up.

“Guh!?”

The sound of collected Rings reached Yoluku far after he felt a gloved hand take Rosy’s wrist. He hadn’t expected it at all. And turned to look with Rosy’s eyes through a Ring into Sonic’s emerald eyes, stunned by the surprise he felt. “A Light Speed Dash? Performed by a mere dirt dweller?”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” Sonic smirked as the Ring he held burst into motes of golden lights.

“Yet you are still a fool, Dirt Dweller. There is nothing you can accomplish by making a Ring Bond with me. I shall dominate it and make you my servant.”

“Who says I was making one with you, Eggs? I’m making one with Amy, and you’re too late to stop me.”

“What can you possibly offer her that would be a threat to me, Dirt Dweller?”

“If you could see her memories, then you’d know that even Dark Gaia couldn’t dominate me.”

With Rosy’s widening eyes, Yoluku realized he was bested, and laughed as Sonic spoke to Rosy. “Impossible”

“It’s time to wake up, rascal,” Sonic gently whispered to Rosy and watched her right iris return to the shade of blue that always reflected him. He still had a few last words for Yoluku however as he saw the Gear Star Ring still turning in Rosy’s eyes. “And don’t think I’m done with you either, Eggs. I’ll find a way up to you and put a stop to this foul Ring Bond myself.”

“I welcome the challenge,” a youthful, pleasant, and cheerful voice greeted Sonic from the Rings. “I have not had this much fun in ages. I look forward to seeing all of the ways you two entertain me for your short little lives, Dirt Dweller!”

~Maybe I hear voices in the darkness. But Sonic shared something with me in that Ring Bond. And not just the ability to resist the will of the gods, which is so strange. I’ve never resisted them so openly before. I can only wonder how that will affect my relationship with my cards. But it’s so hard to tell right now. There was something else in that Ring Bond from Sonic. It’s so, so warm. But I can hardly focus at all. I can barely see Sonic, or the red glowing eyes behind him. I think they’re supposed to be familiar. I can feel myself getting scared, but they also feel so much like Sonic. But Sonic seems to recognize them. I can hear his voice, and maybe it sounds scary too.~

“I should have known there would be one last troublemaker to come and crash my party crashing. Heh, and all things considered, I should have expected you sooner.”

~I’m too lost in Sonic’s warmth to hear the name he says. That’s okay. I know this is the real Sonic in this warmth. And for once, I think he’s willingly engulfing me in it. Tee-hee~♥ A shame I can’t enjoy it, just a little… longer…

~…~

Scene 54 · CLEARED Party Crashing & Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Season 1, End

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And that’s that. Season 1 is over. Hooray!

\(^o^)/

With celebrating out of the way, I do have to admit that I am exhausted. It was a daunting project to start with, but with several idea changes and honestly discarding my original ideas for The Journey to try and be more welcoming to everyone who has been following my AU. Now though, with everything set up, the other characters addressed as being out there, and establishing Sonic’s main goal, I can finally start to make The Journey what I originally imagined.

What is that you ask? The original idea to The Journey was to tell a story with only Sonic and Rosy. An unending road trip that explores the dynamic of Sonic and Amy and how they can work together as characters, friends, traveling companions, and even as boyfriend girlfriend, all without sacrificing their individual characters. It’s an even more massive undertaking for an amateur writer like me, but the smaller cast of characters and a more focused, yet also more open approach I’ll be taking should hopefully make it easier for me to nail. Or as close I can.

I hope everyone will continue to stick with me on this journey, even as the other characters become more of an occasional background element. Of course, if you want more out of them than that, I’ll be opening prompts again when it is time to start expanding the world of the story again. I may have my own plans, but Sonic Ring Bond is a communal AU. So please, come join me on the next leg of the Journey!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra and every one of you! Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Fuse Man Stage (Arranged) – Yoshiya Terayama – MEGAMAN 11 Original Soundtrack

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fan fiction #sonic au #sonic au series #sonic ring bond #the journey #classic amy #amy rose #rosy the rascal #au amy #amy redesign #pir'oth ix #sonic oc #benedict yoluku #eggs benedict

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futuresking · 4 years ago

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no goodbyes / drabble.

He almost got cold feet. Almost waited until the last possible second, hand clenching and unclenching on the doorknob. Surely she’d be busy preparing right now? A visit from him would only be a distraction...

Inigo, don’t be an idiot.

Before he can quadruple-guess himself, Inigo bursts out of his room. Finds her door slightly ajar, and even with the open door policy they so favor, it’s rude to walk into a lady’s room unannounced. Knuckles rap softly on the wood.

“Lucina?” Dancer enters, face tinting pink.

“Um, I just came by to wish you well on the journey. I...” gods, he really should have rehearsed this in his head more.

Plasters on a smile. “I hope you don’t have too much fun without me! Promise you’ll come back, and I’ll take you out to tea so we can laugh about our trips...” cuts his rambling off with a slight cough.

Anxiety crashes over him like a wave. Inigo brings to retreat, whispering “come back to me, Lucina,” before leaving as quickly as he arrived .

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✴ —— an air of eerie silence falls on both monarch, friend, and princess. it had fallen upon her even more than usual as she had been found; idly perusing the list and details of both the accompanier, an already curious fellow named ‘milo’ and . . a rather interesting situation with these ‘relics’ she’d yet to fully investigate. fingers that had idly perused with scarred tissue beneath her half-gloves the complete lack of any of her own. no morgan, no cynthia, she’s even heard word her own cousin was here, gods be good...and certainly no inigo, if his ashen expression as she finished perusing all too calmly the list without her people and friend’s names was absent.

absent in that her eyes would not be able to watch them, to lead them. absent in that she would not be there to step in front no matter the world, no matter the situation, and fight by their side if anything insidious emerged; and wisdom and unfathomable experience...told her it would. a clench that has been like a fist in her heart continues to grip and will not cease as inigo paces her room; watches the exalt who seems almost like a worn, solitary bright light of a statue in the room. . .

“ remember everything you’ve learned and known and use it. “ it’s calm, but quiet, in response to what he says. there’s a desperation beneath the surface that is well hidden, well placed. a terror and rising bile in her throat at the idea that she will not be there to shield him this time. that even now she cannot even wield falchion, a companion in hell, a companion in heart and comfort of soul.

“ remember everything as painful as it is, i know, and...use that wisdom to aid those here that will never know what we know.

use it for your survival because this by no means will be your greatest challenge, but it remains that. a challenge. make sure....you also talk to everyone else. i have to leave early, you see...and i’d like you check on them. please.” finally she glances at him; mismatched in color and branded in the left are her eyes; eerily glittering pale blue and royal sapphire in a somewhat fitting tandem. as if her very brand glows like a keen star that has ever led and guided the way. not this time.

her mouth is not smiling. not the calmly gentle; ever benevolent look that he would know, that many of her friends would know in few but impactful moments. it’s a firm, pained line. the way inigo stammers is so similar to when they were children; arms full of flowers for her. how his voice ached with something she feels she is nearing the end of discovery towards; and also its beginning, but there is no time for that now.

or perhaps she knows, and finds herself only able to be this because the prospect is yet another thing she feels undeserving of. a leader first, king, exalt, princess, commander, whatever phrasing, prioritizing his life over her own, as ever . a shepherd like her father, inigo a lethal, but all the same sheep eternally curled in her heart. perhaps deeper than she will let herself open her eyes at last to.

carefully she treads towards the room; walking purposefully towards him and halting his escape route with a firm but ever unsettling quiet for lucina, in her voice.

“inigo. don’t...don’t worry about me. as ever i’m thankful for you staying by our side, my side, but...you are in a place, you are all in a place i cannot be there for, you realize? even if you say i no longer need feel so, i will all my remaining life. please...try to understand my silence.

it is ... i’m frustrated. i have utmost faith in all of you in this endeavor. i know you are more seasoned than all in this academy, after all who can say what you all have endured? none. not that i ever wished it for you. “ her heart is racing like a galloping pegasi in grief; tumult; a quiet defiance of the list for how dare it keep her from her people, her own, her friends, her family, though no temper burns; only that all consuming, white-hot light to protect and once more defy her circumstances.

“....i will return.” keen senses and nights ever awake with watchful eye over her flock as the shepherd held falchion’s holy hilt against her side do aid her in hearing his whispered voice. her own voice considerably softer, yet strong where he trembles. she must be. if both crumble nothing good will come. she must let him know that she endures; she has always endured; for ylisse, for them, for the world. she will do so again.

but he must as well.

“ .... tell everyone you see that’s one of ours to take a breath, unless of course, you’re cynthia who i imagine will, “ hitched voice; but fond, no tears, only grief in her voice, “be most earnest. still i worry for her always. my brother, of course. my cousin? let him know...” i will not say tell him i love him, because he will be alright, she thinks though the phrase is clearly unspoken. every name uttered from the second generation of ylisse’s shepherds are laced in lucina’s love for them. her protective light.

when she finally smiles; as ever, it seems laced in that quiet, faint sorrow that never leaves. that fully kind smile with a hint of sadness. her suggestions made clear, the crown softens its might in gold. “and if it’s just you, try not to flirt overmuch, yes? what will i do if you come back and we are unable to have tea since you’ve once again done something silly and unlike your real self? something like have another woman there already? i’ll think you’re jesting once again! oh, and by the way...

you can’t flirt with the enemy. now i try to jest. there may and likely will be one. it all seems very contrived. but you know me, i am far too wary, or perhaps this is wisdom in the harshest sense...” oh to be old and wise and nineteen. who would ever want it once you had it?

her hand gently clasps both his arms before he can flee. he can see the battered, torn tissue of lucina’s hands and fingers; flesh that has borne sacred steel and scar tissue from facing armies both together and alone. of the devil himself, of fate and time and trial again and again until the soft hands he once held as a child laughing innocently as a fair princess are but distant memories. they are now battered and worn beyond recognition. a small price, for hope, she thinks. i never really minded if they were beautiful.

“go, i’ll be fine, you fool. worry about you. you know me. i’ll be alright. just come back safely and well, is all i ask. and use your kindness to comfort those who are not as brave nor experienced as you. it has served me far often greater even than your blade. it always will. “ lucina knows her insides for being unrattled bone and steel are pulsing with the memories of their bodies battered on battlefields, again and again -- her broken cries unheard in her heart, ‘when will we rest, when can we rest?’.

oh. this feeling...she knows it. it is anguish.

“ .... or if you come back first, set the table. i’ll...be very glad to have that tea.” gripping his arms assuringly, not too harsh nor too firm now, but gentle and ever protective, his exalt and friend finally lets go.

“ safe travels, inigo. i will see you when i return.. i know you will. all of you. “

she swallows the ingrained sentence she’s spoken so many times in the past years:

just stay alive, is all i ask.

#𝙎𝙐𝙋𝙋𝙊𝙍𝙏: 𝙄𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙊 ✴ —— the tragedy that so tender a smile became a shield.#𝙄𝙉 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙀𝙍 ✴ —— like a polestar in the night you emerge.#𝘿𝙍𝘼𝘽𝘽𝙇𝙀 ✴ —— hope itself speaks her truths; her light that does not end.#theindigoflirt #LabrinythForest2021 #toalabyrinth2021

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wordfires · 4 years ago

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zoril & ildien

this is eventually going to be a larger project but for now this is some character backstory for two of the dnd characters im currently playing! for some frame of reference zoril is a tiefling eventual warlock of the fiend (his patron is a plotpoint that hasn’t come up yet in what i’ve written bu o do know who it is) and ildien is a fallen aasimar shadow sorcerer and yes the “lore” gets a bit weird but they’re both for one shots its about fun not accuracy

anyway both of these are on the longer end and the format is a bit weird so im putting the first section of each character above the cut, but they’re separate in their (almost) entirety below the cut

Zoril was never a truly quiet child— he was never going to be anything else. In a different life, a different time, perhaps. But in this one, his life was chosen first by his mother when she left him to be raised alone by his father.

It was no fault of hers, really. It can be difficult to co-parent a child when the other parent in question is one of the kings of the nine hells.

But this is not a tale of unlikely parents. It is of unlikely children. And first, is Zoril.

Zoril was raised bouncing between the hells, never staying particularly long in one before he was passed to the next, although his time in his father’s domain was always the longest. The other rulers didn’t quite understand why the tiefling child was left to live very long, much less run amok among the denizens of the underworld.

Ildien had often wondered why his parents had left him. Many would have been grateful to have the celestials near. He often came to the conclusion that he had never looked precisely good-bringing. He had never really looked precisely human, as far as he could remember. Not that he was, but he had heard of others like him who could blend in with ease.

He had been told by those that had raised him that his parents had come to the church stammering and clutching at themselves like madness had overtaken them, muttering strange things about their child. The church Elder had asked to see the child, only for it to be thrown into her arms as the couple backed away and never returned.

Of course Ildien was only told this when the Elder had died.

It was no fault of hers, really. It can be difficult to co-parent a child when the other parent in question is one of the kings of the nine hells.

But this is not a tale of unlikely parents. It is of unlikely children. And first, is Zoril.

But Zoril’s father had his reasons. Zoril hoped this was the case, anyway. His father was the only one who never seemed to, at least overtly, cast him away. And so, despite bouncing between others, he was always Zoril, Prince of the Hells and Heir to Mephistopheles’ throne, should he ever leave it.

He had his tutors in the form of the souls who had made bargains with his father, though they always seemed to be removed whenever they attempted to reveal any regrets they may have had about the deals they made. He made friends with the passing imps and quasits, coercing devils into joining his games.

But there were also the lessons of his father, beginning as Zoril grew into his horns. Lessons taught within the palace walls. Never to perform a task without proper payment, to always know when respect and treachery are due. To know that even though his mother had given Zoril fire when he lived in a realm of ice and his nature was freer than the strict hierarchies of the hells, he was a Prince of Cania, that he was owed his rights to the world. But also to know that these rights must, at times, come second to the end goals of ambition.

And as Zoril continued to grow into these lessons and his adolescence, he was allowed and encouraged to begin to venture into the material planes, however he could. To witness the mortal lifespan he was left with, and the mortal souls he may one day be able to take.

His time on the surface was yet another teacher. Of want and desire by those who were raised with mortality. Of the passion it brings. As well as how to remain in the shadows, and when to leave them. How to grow close to another and leave them behind, desperate and ready to make a bargain.

But many of these required quiet, and as he grew taller into adulthood, Zoril found that endless energy again boiling underneath his skin, tired of being taught.

And so he found what he considered the second-best thing mortals had ever dreamed up: brawling.

He was always faster than he was strong, charming more often than fighting, but he could never argue against an adrenaline rush.

His trips into the material plane began bringing him more scars than potential souls for the devils of his home, and as he marched, smiling, into the palace of Cania, Mephistopheles had laughed, a great deep thing, gesturing with one clawed hand toward serving devils. And so his weapons training finally began.

It was not too many years after this that he was one of the top fighters at a ring he had come to frequent. Despite its allowance of magic, Zoril had taken to maces and flails rather than learning spells, letting the illusion of strength and slowness keep his opponents surprised.

It was a night like any other at first. He had been on a roll, undefeated for a week. But the whispers around the room as he readied himself spoke of a newcomer, some challenger from out of town, apparently desperate to fight someone who could pose a threat.

He wanted to laugh as he checked the leather grip of his favoured weapon. Instead, he volunteered to be the one to graciously defeat whoever this mysterious newcomer was. Then he laughed, joining the others around him as another fighter clapped his back and Zoril stepped into the ring.

If he had any less composure he was sure the newcomer would’ve knocked the grin right off his face as his laughter trailed off and he swung his flail up over his shoulder, barely thinking enough to not himself.

They were tall, towering even over the elaborate spines and curls that Zoril’s horns had grown into. Long dark hair tumbled onto pale purple-grey shoulders that sloped gently up into a set face and bright-burning purple eyes. Elaborate red acolyte’s robes draped over their frame, giving away their origins.

At least to anyone watching— Zoril himself was utterly lost in the newcomer, looking them up and down, barely catching himself as a wave of fire was hurled in his direction.

---

Of course Ildien was only told this when the Elder had died.

He had been 12 at the time. Until then he had been told that the elder, Elder Calla, was his mother. Then another acolyte had snidely commented that he didn’t have the right to mourn, after all, she wasn’t even really related to him. He had been told the real story later that night.

It was not long after that when Ildien’s magic began to change. It had always been something they could do, it came naturally. But light grew to darkness, the blossoming healing abilities seemed to wither away as he began to drift farther from human, even away from the celestial blood in his veins.

It was then, too, that Hadrariel became as distant as the light that once surrounded him.

Until that point, Hadrariel has been a constant companion, whispering kind words and gentle guidances, a second parent. In young Ildien’s eyes, another liar.

Truly it was not Hadrariel’s fault— though perhaps it was not Ildien’s either. It had been a long day, the day of Elder Calla’s funeral ceremonies. The loss was still sharp, and the leering gazes of older acolytes and unspoken words were constant needles, pressing into his skin. He had been the last to speak to the Elder, and was, therefore, the last to bid his farewell before the body was burned.

The memory of it was still a burning sear. The peace in the lifelessness of the corpse, another deception. The pitying eyes of her replacement. The ever-pressing gazes around him, narrowed eyes and silent laughter. And then the faint weight of Hadrariel’s gaze, an invisible hand on Ildien’s shoulder.

Shadows had lashed out of him, tipping the room into the grey of twilight, before the sudden pitch black of night as pain had ripped through him, tearing him to pieces.

Then as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The shadow fled from the room, slinking back to the soles of Ildien’s feet as he gazed at the skeletal remains of his wings, on display of their own accord. The absence of the weight of their feathers echoed in the void left behind by Hadrariel’s flight and the strange stillness in his chest.

He had looked on, to Calla’s body.

It was the last time he cried.

The following years were long— Ildien was yet an acolyte of the church of [], he had his duties and still lived within the church. But the laughter that may have turned to friendship instead turned to fear and quick glances. The new Elder was not kind as Calla had been. Ildien was labelled a bad omen, banned from certain ceremonies.

Most ceremonies aside from funerals, in fact. At these he was allowed, if only so no one else had to be near the corpse.

When not being put to the undesirable tasks, Ildien remained in his room, watching the torch fire make shadows dance across the wall as he read himself to restless sleep. Time seemed to pass slowly and quickly all at once, slipping through his fingers as he gazed on, indifferent.

He knew the church would release him once he was of age, no longer obligated to keep him as their ward. The only thing that had stopped them from throwing him out sooner was the new Elder’s idea of image.

But as he grew closer to this release from the church, it grew impossible to passively be feared. To allow the world to pass him by.

So rather than read himself to sleep watching the shadows, Ildien looked at what cast them, studying the flames licking at the air. He let his magic follow it’s new call into fire and shadow, falling in love with it. He let himself smile for the first time in years as fire danced across his shoulders as his feet moved in the rhythm of the shadows below him.

Ildien had not thought the new Elder, Varif, cared enough to pay him mind outside of when necessary, but when he was called to speak in front of him it was not long before the Elder’s intentions were revealed.

Varif had, in fact, been watching Ildien, and he had deemed worthy of the grand gesture the church needed to make to bring the community back into the fold.

Ildien only learned when the gesture was as it was happening. He was kept in a room away from his own, with only his shadows for company in the weeks leading up to the event.

When the door to his chamber opened as his eyes adjusted, Ildien was pulled and shoved into flowing ceremonial garb layered with dust, a uniform he hadn’t seen before. A scroll was pressed into his hands as he was pushed to an altar.

He remembered blinking the setting sunlight out of his eyes, looking to Elder Varif, grinning, and to a figure opposite him on the altar, decorated in the bones of an ox, eyes closed. The face of one of the newest acolytes in the shadow of the ox’s skull.

Ildien had looked down at the words on the scroll, the idea of this gesture clicking place in his head. He glanced once to the other acolyte, their eyes blearily opening, panic raising their eyebrows. He glanced to the Elder, grin settling into smug satisfaction.

He stepped towards the acolyte, putting them within arms reach, letting a smile of his own stretch across his face as he snatched the ox skull, planting it on his own head and swinging to face the Elder, outstretched arms coming together to hurl fire at the Varif.

It really was only meant to maim, for the most part. But as the Elder’s body hit the floor, the spark that had ignited his rebellion quieted, and there was an utter silence the same as Calla’s funeral.

He felt his heart beat once in his chest.

And he ran, the air on his face reigniting him— a grin stretched across his face as he threw layers of the constraining upper garment off and let the flowing skirts fly in the wind as his feet pounded stone and dirt.

He ran through the city, taking unfamiliar turns, whooping as he clutched the stolen skull to his head, not even quite sure why he took it. He did mean to stop before he ran into any buildings, but he was looking over his shoulder as his feet carried him into a small, dimly lit tavern, tumbling through a swinging door on the back wall into a somehow much larger space.

He was only able to pull himself to a stop just before he would have slammed into a wall of muscle glowering up at him.

A blur of questions were asked, lies flowing quicker out of his mouth than he could think about what he was saying and the next second he stood in a ring with wooden walls and a packed sand floor, the most stunning tiefling he had ever seen standing across from him. Their skin was dark red like deep flame, pitch coloured horns reaching into the shadows above their head, a flail was swung over shoulders covered only by a light tunic, black sleeves billowing ever so slightly as Ildien’s eyes were drawn down to the tiefling’s cloven hooves and then back up to gleaming eyes and sharp fangs poking out of a rakish grin.

Ildien felt his breath rush out of him, fire leaping out of his fingertips, his instincts remembering that this was meant to be a fight seconds before he remembered he hadn’t said he was here to gawk at the fighters, instead he had let himself lie that he wanted to be one of them.

#wylan writes #character sketch #dnd character #character backstory #short story #anyway as always i do appreciate any and all feedback #specifically right now bc most of my dnd friends are players in one or both one shots so i cant reveal a n y t h i n g #and its t e r r i b l e #plus i didnt even get to half the fun stuff in these sections so i can't even talk about it yet bc these end 7-8ish years before present day

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joannevixxon · 5 years ago

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Love Comes At A Cost

An Elsamaren fanfic by JoanneVixxon on AO3.

Summary:

The Fifth Spirit is one of many myths that came to life. And, not all myths are meant to be saviours in times of woe.

Just as Arendelle welcomes Queen Anna into her reign, the Northuldra wade through their newfound freedom under the protection of their Snow Queen, Elsa. Unbeknownst to them, lurking behind shadows awaits a monster whose anger finds peace in the demise of others. Together, Elsa, Honeymaren, Anna and Kristoff must save Arendelle and Northuldra from prophetic destruction.

Meanwhile, Elsa and Honeymaren come to terms with their mutual attraction— as terrifying as it is exciting.

Preview: "How ever cold a fortitude of silence Elsa bore, it melted, came undone at the seams, shed its mask of immaculate armour, once Elsa leaned forwards to rest her elbows languidly against the railing, as if to ask for back rubs instead. Like a steed to its master, the Queen of Ice and Snow bowed her head ever so slightly to her Northuldra companion."

Chapter 1: Anna’s Astute Mind

Queen Anna of Arendelle had the likeable disposition of a puppy in summer. Her entire existence seemed to premise upon her providence of love and warmth, even when they were aplenty under the radiant sun.

She was fiercely loyal to companions, deft in maintaining her optimism through thick and thin, steadfast in altruistic commitments, to name a few of her many virtuous attributes. She carried herself like a fountain whose liquid provided welcomed relief to parched birds, except with Anna, she did it through sheer benevolence.

Fine, indeed, her feisty obstinacy prevailed at times, be it within the confines of council rooms or private quarters, patiently endured by royal advisors and Kristoff alike. But, it was Anna’s astute mind that allowed her to suspect that some volatile anxiety had been brewing amongst the spirits.

A gust of wind had been bellowing through her study every afternoon. Her fireplace had flickered pink time and time again. A distorted neigh echoed in her ears at every casual passing by the fjord. And, worst of all, she had been tripping over plain flat soil more in the past week than she had in a lifetime! That’s a lot of bruised knees, stained dresses and dismayed grumbles coming from the castle staff!

Maybe, it was just that— coincidences, or Arendelle’s weather throwing a temper tantrum (of its own accord, this time).

Or maybe, it was the spirits.

Maybe… It was Elsa.

It all happened during the second game night of January—the month following Elsa’s 26th birthday.

The sun of late had been setting at five in the evenings, painting the dinner table a warm cozy fuschia against the backdrop of a white crisp winter. Clanking away with their forks and knives were Anna, Kristoff and Olaf, joined by Elsa and Honeymaren.

This wasn’t the first time that Elsa had been accompanied by Northuldra guests, but it did strike Anna by surprise when she found the blonde descending Nokk at the docks with none other than Honeymaren.

Upon the touch of Elsa’s delicate fingers on her forearm, Honeymaren wore a courteous smile and said to Anna, simply, as though hoping not to invite any further query, “Ryder had to attend to private matters,”

The food was scrumptious that night, wine all the better. Anna’s keen gaze couldn’t help but linger at Elsa as she restrained herself from sipping a second glass. One may compare her sister nowadays to spirits and deities, but she was no god of alcohol. Mild intoxication alone was enough to convince Elsa that sauntering on rooftops was as safe as belting hymns, the prospect of death put aside altogether as myth.

“How’s Northuldra?” asked Kristoff, mouth chock-full of braised salmon. “Anna and I have been wanting to pay everyone a visit,”

“If my schedule allows it...” Anna chimed in, sighing. “Seriously, Elsa, how did you do it? We were able to share tea dates while you were Queen, and I’m struggling with...” A hand gesticulated in the air, as if to conjure words with magic. “...struggling with small things, like menus for dignitary lunches, village tours, picking dresses!”

Elsa stifled a giggle. “Northuldra’s fine, Kristoff. Thanks for asking. And, those aren’t small things at all, Anna,” Proving to everyone that she remained a stickler for manners, Elsa dabbed her lips lightly with the hem of her napkin before speaking any further. “Remember, I was eighteen when I ascended the throne. I had barely turned a new chapter into adulthood, let alone prepared myself enough to serve as sovereign, or be of age for coronation. Every single little thing was as daunting as it could have been…”

Catching sight of her reflection on the impeccably clean wine glass, she looked up at Anna and gave her the tenderest of smiles. “Dipping a pen to write letters was as scary as negotiating trade deals with kings of neighbouring states, likewise with picking dresses or menus for dignitary lunches. It’s all new to you, Anna. Give it time. I’m sure you’d find yourself comfortably acquainted with your role much quicker than I ever did,”

“You’re right. A-At least, I hope so,” replied Anna, fumbling with her hands. Her eyes frantically surveyed the room for a comfortable point of fixation. “I mean, it’s only been half a year. I shouldn’t expect to conduct myself as effectively as you did when it probably, no, definitely, totally, took years of practice on your end, I imagine,”

Elsa smile grew even wider. Having just endured being the subject of a portrait painting, Anna was dressed in full regalia that night, with her velvet train whipping in the wind and tiara twinkling lustrously under candlelight. But Elsa saw the same sprightly kid with pig-tails as she peered into the teal eyes of her younger sister—now Queen and no longer a Princess. “Yup, years of practice,” said Elsa, before adding, “You don’t have to reign as I did, Anna. Please, conduct yourself as you see fit. You are your own person after all,”

“Well, y-yeah, of course,” said Anna, returning the smile. “But there’s nothing wrong with—I mean—it’s recommended to follow in the footsteps of my predecessors, right?”

Pursing her lips, Elsa swirled her wine as though to exude an air of nonchalance, before, to everyone’s surprise, imbibing the wine all in one gulp. Anna felt her voice hitch. That must’ve scorched her sister’s throat for sure. It was far from difficult to notice the reddish hue that crept up to her sister’s porcelain cheeks.

Upon the loud creak of doors opening by the far end of the Great Hall, Kai stepped in to announce that dessert was ready to be served. Over citrus palate cleansers and parfait, Honeymaren endeavoured through the flurry of questions of which Olaf had a curiously endless supply.

“What are your thoughts on pranks?” asked Olaf, at one point.

“Pranks?” Honeymaren cocked her head. “Fun, in moderation,”

“Fantastic!” The three short twigs that sat atop Olaf’s crown gave the faintest quiver. “With an ample amount of time on my hands, I can afford to entertain my personal interests,”

“Like… planning pranks?” asked Honeymaren, brows furrowed. The royal family of Arendelle defied convention, but a snowman taking stock of ideas in horseplay was new terrain.

“Yes, pay attention,” snapped Olaf. “I recently made a list of pranks that I thought might be fun to try with a close companion of yours,” Honeymaren and Elsa shared a nervous glance. Bringing a twiggy palm to his forehead, Olaf heaved a theatrical sigh, “No, not Elsa. Nokk ,”

At that response, the four adults shared an exclamation of surprise.

“Oh, good!” continued Olaf, smiling. “I see my suggestion is already garnering desired effects! You see, I read that potassium explodes upon contact with water—”

“O-Olaf!” stuttered Anna loudly. “That’s a fantastic idea! I’m sure we’d like to hear all about it tomorrow morning. Didn’t you say something about, um, saving good stuff for later makes you feel happier, more excited, or something—?”

“Oh, why yes, Anna! How can I forget: greater satisfaction as a result of greater delays in gratification! An excellent suggestion. In that case,—” Olaf winked. “—I’ll save it for later,”

“Good!” Anna’s eyes sparkled, as she turned to face everyone else. “Who’s up for games?”

———

Games could not have come sooner.

Sitting still was never Anna’s best pursuits, let alone standing statuesque in full regalia with an orb and scepter in hand for a portrait painting. It took a painstaking two hours, enough for the newly anointed queen’s mind to wander from the colour scheme of bed sheets to apocalyptic war.

Rubbing salt to Anna’s wounds, the court painter then had the audacity to take a photograph as reference for his final touches— “Live painting still carries the best merit, ma’am,” he had said with his nose pointed up to the ceiling. Had Kristoff been elsewhere, the court painter would have met Anna’s fists shortly before being delivered to the doorsteps of his Maker.

Anna’s arms were itching to flail about. Her foot tapped impatiently against the timber as she gawkily handed her dress to her lady-in-waiting and fumbled to wear her nightgown, first inside-out, then backwards, and finally, as it should be worn.

Striding out in haste, Anna’s hair remained tightly wound in a singular bun, as had been the tradition with queens of Arendelle. But upon the doors to her study, Anna found herself nearing a dither.

Frantically, she ruffled her hair into loose locks.

Her heart had once beat aflutter when Elsa stared at Anna, as though to find their mother somewhere behind the fabric of her younger sister’s regal mien. “Mother’s gone,” Elsa had mumbled pensively, before realising what had tumbled out of her lips. “I’m sorry, i-it’s just… the resemblance is uncanny,”

“Anna?”

Returning to present time, Anna turned to find Elsa and Honeymaren jogging down the hallway in their nightgowns. “Oh,” said Anna, mustering composure. “That’s unlike you to be late—”

Elsa pulled Anna into a tight embrace without a moment to spare. “I’m actually excited,” she whispered, pulling away. “I’ve been practicing with Honey,”

“She has,” Honeymaren nodded over Elsa’s shoulder. “Though, there remains room for improvement,”

“Just last night you said I was excellent,” Tapping playfully on Honeymaren’s shoulder, Elsa turned the door handle with an adroit twist of the hand as she had done countless times before as queen, and held the door with a smile.

It must have taken Anna a full moment to realise that Honeymaren had been standing abreast, giving her the courtesy to enter first. Anna stumbled into the study. Every piece of furniture was in its rightful place— the sofa was riveted in the center, curtains drawn, paintings of her Father’s and Elsa’s coronation hung behind looming shadows— and yet, the expanse of the room felt foreign.

Anna suddenly blurted, “You two...were talking about charades, yeah?”

Her words hung in the air for a moment too long, waiting to be plucked as prophecy. Elsa darted a look at Honeymaren, before her nimble fingers started fiddling with loose strands of hair. “What did you think we were talking about?”

Anna shrugged, blushing. “Nothing... I-I don’t know. Never mind me,”

———

The midnight chime of the old grandfather clock came sooner than expected. Kristoff announced that he best retired to bed or he’d slip into slumber right then on the sofa.

“Just admit it,” said Anna. “You don’t want to clean up the mess you’ve made,” She pointed at the litter of paper on the floor. Kristoff could only offer a yawn in response, before racing out of the room with Olaf.

“Boys,” said Honeymaren. Raking in a load of paper balls with her hands, she piled them up into an idle bucket sitting dangerously close to the hearth. Its once blazing wood had now reduced to crackling embers, dimming the study down to the haze of blue moonlight.

“Thanks, Honeymaren,”

“I’ll put out the fire,”

“Oh, no, actually, don’t… It’s a bit cold...” Anna paused, trembling at the sudden chill that trickled down her spine. As she wrapped her arms around her middle, Anna’s eyes trailed around the room, tracing the familiar figure of a certain quiet someone. Sure enough, standing in solitude on the balcony was Elsa. Her loose blonde locks and purple satin dress fluttered in the strong breeze that drifted its way into the room, threading along curtains, lapping against carpets, hushing cinders to the lullaby of distant tides.

Without so much as a pardon, Honeymaren ambled towards the windows left ajar, making her presence known to Elsa by placing a tender hand squarely against the small of her bare back. Anna watched that very hand falter in its attempt to provide comfort, as it trembled to give gentle pats. Yet, how ever cold a fortitude of silence Elsa bore, it melted, came undone at the seams, shed its mask of immaculate armour, once Elsa leaned forwards to rest her elbows languidly against the railing, as if to ask for back rubs instead. Like a steed to its master, the Queen of Ice and Snow bowed her head ever so slightly to her Northuldra companion.

The whistle of the breeze lulled, leaving Anna in the placidness of stale office air. Quietly, Anna joined them, smiling appreciatively at Honeymaren’s warm nod of encouragement.

“Elsa?” said Anna. “Is everything alright?”

Elsa seemed transfixed at the undulating ridges of mountains, which caressed the heavens as much as it dived into the earth behind the town’s lofty roofs and spires. She turned to Anna, with a smile stretching across quivering lips. “My favourite view of Arendelle,” she said in faint whispers.

Catching Honeymaren’s averting gaze, Anna sensed that her sister meant to say something else.

———

Anna tossed and turned in bed at the break of dawn, begging herself to catch a few more minutes of sleep before Gerda would come knocking at her door. But, her attention seemed to have overstayed its welcome in the deepest recesses of her mind, hitched against some dark suspicion that her sister was shackled again by an old habit of hers—keeping secrets, namely ones that bode misfortune.

Elsa had three years following their parents’ departure to break to her sister that she possessed magic, but chose not to until she had casted Arendelle into winter. She had weeks to tell her family about hearing a voice, but chose not to until Arendelle had nearly crumbled into the earth. Elsa was never irresponsible, however, far from it. Quite simply, she was often paralysed by fear, and would care less about herself than to worry the people she loved about problems beyond her control. Anna learned that she needed to entice her sister into conversation, remind her of the unceasing support she had, or suffer the consequences.

It didn’t help that the chilly breeze of last night had invited itself into Anna’s bed. Getting up meant falling prey to shivers—all the more reason to stay warm under quilted sheets.

Just as Anna’s eyes fluttered shut, a loud bolt of footsteps trailed outside her room, dying down as quick as it came. Anna jolted upright.

“Gerda?” called Anna, breathless. Quickly, she tumbled out of bed. Opening the door just enough to pop her head out, she looked left and right to find the hallway properly deserted. “I must’ve been dreaming...,”

Convinced that the rush of adrenaline would have done little to allow for more snoozes, Anna decided to officially start her day. Game nights this past year were usually followed by a day off for Anna and Elsa to catch up, over tea cakes, horse rides, picnics, village tours, anything. This time, however, as Gerda had been sympathetic to remind the young queen, the governor of Jorgenfjord had requested an urgent audience with her for that morning. Replacing a sister bonding session with a meeting was the last of Anna’s desires. But, the least she could do for Elsa was to lend her ears, be a shoulder to cry on, to support however she can, before rushing into the first task of the day.

Dress neatly donned, hair tightly wound in a bun, Anna made her way to Elsa’s room. As with all monarchs following their coronation, Anna moved into her parents’ room, which had been Elsa’s until she abdicated. So, quite simply, Elsa was forced to return to her childhood room.

Anna rapped a familiar tune on her sister’s door, before rubbing her cold hands together.

No response.

“Elsa?” called Anna, knocking again. “I’m sorry if it’s a bit early. Wait, actually, this should be past your usual waking time, unless you’ve gotten lazy in the forest! Hah! Can’t blame you. I-I’d do the same. I can tell you that this is definitely not my usual waking time, though. Still isn’t! At least not for another year! Way too early. Anyway, Elsa, like I said yesterday, I have to attend an early meeting. Before you go for your walk around town, I’d really, um, appreciate it, if we can talk. Talk? That sounds too serious. I-I just want to have a little chat , really, that’s all.”

Anna bit her lip and clasped her hands tighter, hoping to squeeze some warmth into her palms. The permeating silence became indicative of another failed attempt to elicit a response. Taking a deep breath, Anna opened the door to peek inside, to check if Elsa had, for the first time in forever, overslept. To her surprise, the room was empty—so empty, in fact, that the stack of towels and fruits that Gerda had placed carefully on the bed seemed completely untouched.

Anna blinked, confused.

“Anna?” croaked a voice from behind.

Anna turned to find Elsa walking down the hallway in her white dress, rubbing circles into her eyes. “Elsa! Good morning,”

“Good morning,”

“I-I was knocking on your door but…”

Elsa halted beside her sister, squinting at the familiar row of snowflakes that adorned her white door. “...but what, Anna?”

“Elsa, did you… come from Honeymaren’s room?”

Elsa nodded. “Yeah?”

Anna’s eyes widened, sparkling. The redhead opened her mouth to scream but frantic hands clasped it shut. The epiphany slammed into her like a hustling reindeer, jamming all colours of emotions into her core, waiting to burst into shrieks of rainbows.

She and Kristoff had a fair share of amorous intrigues before their engagement— hiking up trails, serenades in stables, rowing in the great expanse of Arendelle’s fjords, sneaking into the castle just before her quiet disappearance caught the attention of her sister. This, with Elsa, was similar. She knew all too well.

Elsa looked concerned. “Anna, what’s wrong?” She placed a hand on Anna’s forehead. Anna shuddered at the touch and flinched away. “O-oh, I’m so sorry, Anna. Was it cold?”

“Elsa!” exclaimed Anna in hushed whispers, rounding her sister towards the windows. “This makes so much sense. I knew it! Something was bothering you!”

Shoulders arched, Elsa fidgeted with the hem of her sheer cape. “Y-you do?” said Elsa to Anna’s back. “Oh, Anna. I was actually planning to tell you last night with—“

“—Honeymaren!” yelled Anna, barely containing her excitement as she saw the confused young Northuldra approaching the two sisters. Anna dashed to Honeymaren’s side, tugged her by the wrist and nudged her towards Elsa. “I know, Elsa, I know. First, you didn’t bring Ryder because you didn’t want me to get confused,”

Elsa and Honeymaren shot a flabbergasted look at the redhead. “Wait, what?” queried Elsa, brows furrowed.

“During dinner, when I talked about following in your footsteps, you gulped down that glass of wine like it was coffee because, hah, I’m with Kristoff! Of course , I don’t swing in the other direction,”

“Anna—“

“And, oh, seriously, Elsa? I thought you were good with subtlety but I stand corrected. ‘Just last night you said I was excellent’ ? You really think I can believe you guys when you say it was about ‘charades’ ?” Anna winked.

Elsa and Honeymaren were now as red as berries, realising what Anna had meant. “A-Anna,” started Elsa. “You got it all wro—“

“Last night! At the balcony! You wanted to say it to me. You wanted to announce that you and Honeymaren are in love!” At this point, Elsa nearly ducked behind Honeymaren—god forbid anyone saw in her furiously blushing state. “But you couldn’t, so you talked about the view! And Honeymaren—“ The Northuldra turned to look at Anna but her gaze seemed to have pierced right through Anna’s body and out the window. “—Oh, Honeymaren, the way you rubbed Elsa’s back, how intimate, how romantic ,” Anna glanced at her old room, whose amenities were meant to extend to Honeymaren alone. “And now, you two are sharing a bed —”

“Y-Your Majesty—“ stammered Honeymaren.

“Say no more,” responded Anna, bringing a finger to her lips. “You have my blessing,”

Feeling a tug on her dress, Honeymaren found Elsa crouching by her feet, bringing her knees to her chest. Ice fractals crackled beneath her soles. “Elsa,” whispered Honeymaren. “I thought you were planning to tell her—“

“Oh, why, yes, of course!” gasped Anna. “You’re absolutely right, Elsa. It’s like I never learn. I take it back. I don’t give you two my blessing. You have to court each other, for at least three years like Kristoff and I, before you could even think about something as huge as marriage,”

As Honeymaren and Elsa stared blankly into space, the breeze outside howled louder and louder, whistling through the cracks of windows, rustling through scraggy trees. Either Gale, the Wind Spirit, was thoughtful enough to spare them the pain of listening to their own thoughts, or Gale was having the cackle of a lifetime.

“Your Majesty,” called Gerda from afar. She took a few quick steps towards the three young women before giving a deep curtsy. “Your Royal Highness,” She bowed her head at Elsa, and turned back to Anna. “Your meeting, ma’am. It starts in ten minutes,”

Anna wrenched Elsa by the arm, forcing her up her feet, and gave Elsa and Honeymaren a hug that squeezed all the air out of their lungs. “That’s my cue! I love you! See you for lunch!”

With the click of her heels, the young queen was off to the council room. Gerda followed closely behind but darted a concerned look at Elsa. In all her years of taking care of Elsa, she had never seen the blonde so pink.

———

Anna was practically hopping to the council room when Lieutenant Mattias came to her visual periphery with a steaming mug in his grip. He extended a polite hand, halting the young queen in her tracks.

“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing his head. “Would you like a cup of hot chocolate milk?”

“Why yes!” said Anna, accepting the mug. “Did you make this specially for me?”

“No, ma’am. There was a surplus in the kitchen,” Mattias responded. He shifted his weight and crossed his arms, waiting for the young queen to take a couple sips. His voice quieted down to a whisper. “The kitchen staff said that Honeymaren requested for two cups of hot chocolate at 5 in the morning. She was as pale as a ghost, they said,”

Anna nearly spewed milk at Mattias’ face. “Wait, what?”

“Ma’am,” continued Mattias, looking around. “It is not my intention to startle you before your meeting but I think it best to know if anything had gone amiss. I can help you… check on things while you attend the council meeting,”

Anna nodded slowly. “Oh… Okay…?”

“Did Elsa say or do anything that struck you as… strange or peculiar?”

Anna took a step back, her stomach tightening. “No, I mean…S-She seemed nervous and preoccupied, b-but—” Anna shook her head. “Nothing too suspicious. What’s wrong?”

“Several guards with clandestine posts have just reported to me that she had been in Arendelle for at least one day before she arrived in this castle yesterday,” replied Mattias, wearing the most empathetic look he could muster for the young queen. “She was first spotted northeast of the castle, in the forest, which I believe you would know to be—“

“—close to the Valley of the Living Rocks. The trolls...,” said Anna, brows furrowing.

“Yes, ma’am,” responded Mattias. He hunched forward to whisper further into Anna’s ear. “The same day, she was spotted in Jorgenfjord, whose governor, you are about to meet in five minutes,”

Anna paused. Tears formed at the rim of her eyes, as her breaths grew shallow. Elsa was keeping secrets from her. All those letters they wrote to each other and Elsa had chosen not to mention a single hitch. Anna felt the hollows of her chest kindle with fire, its cavities ignited with a fury that wanted burn every morsel of her sister’s failure once more to deliver promises of honest disclosure— promises to never shut each other out again.

The thing is, Elsa did express her intention of confidence. Just that, Anna hadn’t given Elsa the chance to even catch her breath this morning.

Anna stood in silence.

It was her fault.

Elsa wanted to talk, but Anna didn’t make it clear that she was ready to listen.

“Mattias,” sputtered Anna. “I-I don’t know what all of this means. For all we know, she was just giving Honeymaren a tour around Arendelle! But... I know one thing for certain. Elsa would only request for hot chocolate at that hour if she had a nightmare. A bad one. She started getting them before our journey to Northuldra,” Anna paused. “I need you to go into my old room—the one with crocuses on its door—and check for any sign of Elsa having blasted ice in the room,” Anna gulped her chocolate milk down. “And send for royal guards to follow her. Discreetly. Keep her safe,”

Mattias simply nodded, motioning for the queen to wipe the chocolate moustache off her lips.

As Anna steeled herself and entered the council room, Mattias dashed to Anna’s old room, wondering why Elsa had swapped rooms with Honeymaren. He entered to find the room clean and dry. Either the maids had done an impeccable job of discarding any evidence to suggest that Elsa froze the room or Elsa had gotten better at thawing every last snowflake.

Mattias had barely touched the door handle to make his exit, when a bowl of fruits on the mantelpiece caught his eye— what a curious place to put a fruit bowl. He approached it, and picked up an apple. It seemed badly bruised, as if it had been tossed to the ground and trampled by the hooves of a stampede. Squeezing it slowly, the apple molded into the wrinkles of his fist, smushed into gooey pulp.

“You can’t find ice that has been properly thawed,” Mattias mused to himself. “But you can find the effects it’s left behind,”

———

A/N: I’VE NOT WRITTEN SOMETHING THIS SERIOUS IN 4 YEARS???? Please spare me

#elsamaren #frozen 2 #elsa #honeymaren #elsa x honeymaren #honeyelsa #fanfic #frozen #disney frozen #snow sisters #frohana #post-frozen 2 #fanfiction #ao3 #my writing stuff #my fanfic

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otterlydeerlightful · 4 years ago

Note

Loki/Tony for 14 and 70 from the AU list!!!

Bodyguard AU + Locked in a Room

Forgive any awful typos...this one ended up having a mind of its own and I’m too lazy to reread it atm lol! Sorry it takes me forever to write stuff

Loki had never liked the idea of having a bodyguard on their trips to visit the dignitaries of the other Realms. As far as he was concerned, it was a sign of weakness that implied he was unable to defend himself. It was offensive, and the mischief-maker wouldn’t stand for it…which is why the second prince’s bodyguards never lasted very long. None of them could endure Loki’s tricks and frustratingly frequent escapes of their guard. None of his father’s pathetic appointments had been able to handle him. That was, not until his latest barnacle was assigned to him before his latest trip to Alfheim.

Loki was used to mentally hollow suits of armor hovering over his every action with a disapproving scowl. But Anthony was not like his previous bodyguards. Against all odds, in spite of all of Loki’s attempts to ditch the guard and slip away into the alien city, Anthony’s eyes never lost their sparkle. He, in fact, complimented many of Loki’s rouses upon the prince’s return. He had even found Loki in the streets no less than three times in the past week. No one had done that before, either. Nor would they have acted like nothing was wrong and chat Loki’s ear off like an old friend. And, in spite of the fact that Anthony’s mouth rarely seemed to stop, the continuous stream of consciousness at least informed Loki that the guard at least had a decent brain beneath all the usual armor.

Upon his latest return from sight-seeing, his fourth successful escape from under Anthony’s nose since their arrival, Loki was greeted by the sound of shouting. He clung to the shadows and listened to the Allfather rip into what turned out to be his poor bodyguard for Loki’s latest disappearance. Anthony said little in his defense as he stood at attention, even when his king threatened to strip him not only of his position, but his status as an Asgardian noble and all the advantages of being such, if he didn’t rein in his troublesome son.

Loki’s bodyguard was harshly dismissed and Anthony quietly made his way down the hall toward the prince’s room, presumably to await his return.

“For a man whose tongue hardly knows the meaning of rest, you seem to be lacking in the ability to defend yourself.”

Anthony spun around at the sound of Loki’s voice and, much to the mage’s surprise, smiled brightly when he laid eyes on his charge.

“Prince Loki! You’re back.”

“I am,” he replied with a narrowed gaze. “I don’t usually hear those words in such an upbeat tone, particularly after the person in question has just been threatened by the Allfather himself due to my involvement…or in this case, lack thereof.”

Anthony didn’t seem bothered by the situation in the slightest.

“Then I am glad that I could offer a change of pace,” his bodyguard laughed with a cheery grin. “I trust that you had a good afternoon? Any fires I should know about?”

Loki didn’t answer. The man’s reaction made no sense, and he couldn’t figure out what the guard’s ulterior motive could possibly be.

As it turned out, the second prince had little time to consider the conundrum. The familiar clomping of Odin’s footfalls echoed down the hall and Anthony immediately sprung into action. He lunged forward and grabbed Loki’s arm with a desperate look on his eyes that darted about the room.

“In here, quick!” The man pulled the prince toward the nearest door, yanking it open and thrusting him inside. Anthony spun around and closed it quickly behind him. “I don’t want to think about what he might do if he finds you right now. It’s best to let him simmer for a while before you make an appearance.”

Loki stared at the back of Anthony’s head. The guard must have felt it, because he slowly turned to look up at him.

“Why are you so concerned with my wellbeing over your own?” Loki pried in a quiet voice.

“I’m…your bodyguard, your, uh, your highness.”

“Yes, but I don’t believe your duties extend to protecting me from our own king,” the mage pointed out.

Instead of answering, Anthony shushed him—his prince—and went still as the sound of the Allfather and his escorts passed them outside. The man didn’t move again until the hallway fell silent again. Loki just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well?”

Anthony swallowed, somehow looking more nervous now than he had while facing down the threat of Odin’s punishment. Loki frowned while he studied the nervousness in his guard’s eyes. It was strange to see Anthony without a smile on his face. Anthony always smiled…at least, he always seemed to do so in Loki’s presence.

Ah…

“It’s just, that, well…your, uh…” He was clearly struggling. “My…my job is to protect you. As far as I’m concerned, protecting your image falls within that realm. And….shit.”

Loki offered only a noncommittal hum, curious to see what the man would so next. Apparently, the answer was panic. Anthony pushed on the door. Then, he pushed on it again. With a few more bangs and jiggling of the handle, the man began to look a little sick.

“Uh….hang on.”

He tried the door again and again, but it wouldn’t budge. And Anthony was beginning to tremble.

“Sorry! Sorry, we’ll…we’ll get….oh, Norns, we need to get out…”

“Anthony?”

The man didn’t seem to hear him. “Ned to get out. Norns, let us….” His guard’s breathing was quickly growing erratic. “Can’t….can’t be trapped, not again….not again…”

That was enough. Loki laid a hand on the man’s shoulder and promptly Stepped them to his quarters. Anthony looked around in shock at their change of scenery for a moment before looking up at Loki in astonishment.

“Better?”

He ran a hand down his goatee and glanced around again. His breathing was already better.

“Y-yeah. I…what did you just do?”

“I brought us to my room, Anthony,” Loki answered with a cheeky grin. “I had thought you were clever enough to figure out at least that much.”

“But we were just…the door was locked and now we’re…” He tuned to look at Loki again. “Thank you. I…have a problem with being trapped in…close quarters.”

“I noticed.”

His bodyguard quickly recovered from his admission. Hands on his hips, he again considered their new surroundings. Anthony eventually chucked and shook his head. “Norns, no wonder you keep disappearing from right under my nose!” Much to Loki’s surprise, Anthony barked out a laugh. “How could I compete with this? Incredible…”

That was his reaction? Loki shook his head and sat himself on a chaise lounge to observe his companion and ask “You never did answer my question.”

“Huh?”

Ah, yes, there was the Anthony he knew: always ready to move onto the next topic when presented with shiny new information.

“Why were you more concerned with Odin’s reaction to my presence than you were to your own punishment for failing in your assigned duties?”

“Oh, uh…well…I just…didn’t want your father to find you when he was already upset.”

“But you were fine standing before the Allfather and enduring his rage, it seems.”

Anthony swallowed.

“And he was only angry due to your inability to properly babysit his troublesome son,” he pointed out. “Yet you were happy to see me upon my return. Happy. Not angry, nor even relieved for your own sake, but happy.”

The room was silent for a few moments before Loki decided it might be fun to fill it with his own observations that he had not pieced together until that moment.

“You are never cross with my actions. You seek me out for conversation. You compliment my seiðr. You pay attention when I speak, and, perhaps the most impossible, you do all of this while clearly not wanting to be a guard of any capacity. So I ask you again, Anthony: why?”

The man shifted his weight and looked incredibly uncomfortable. “I…know it isn’t proper for a guard to be, well, friendly with his charge. Not…professional, as my father would say. But…but just because we can’t be friends doesn’t mean either of us had to be…miserable with our partnership…right?”

“…Friends.”

Anthony looked away, suddenly looking much smaller than Loki had ever seen him. In spite of his every rebuff and escape, Anthony was always happy to see him, to be with him. Given the intensity of Odin’s earlier anger, he had no doubt endured multiple verbal lashings before today to earn such threats. Yet, Anthony never gave any outward sign that they had occurred. He had even covered for Loki multiple times, if those who would ask if the price’s stomach upset had subsided after a skipped event would have him believe. Anthony was saying that he would like friendship, but his actions seemed to be yearning for something more.

Loki got up and approached the guard. Anthony looked nervous.

“Odin is…no doubt still angry that you had let me out of your sights once again…yes?”

Anthony stared at him. “Yeah.”

“Then it stands to reason that you could easily improve your standing in the Allfather’s eyes by…making sure that I no longer escape your watch.”

The guard was eyeing him now, clearly beginning to read the meaning between Loki’s words.

“I found a lovely garden earlier today,” Loki said with a smile. “I suspect it is spectacular during a sunset…but it may be unsafe for a foreign royal to walk the grounds alone at such a late hour.”

Anthony’s brown eyes were wide with unbelieving astonishment. “It…sounds like you might benefit from having a bodyguard.”

“I believe you might be right.” A strange warmth spread through the mage’s chest as the other man’s signature smile quickly returned with fervor. “Shall we?”

“Do we get to do that...magic traveling thing again?”

Loki let out a light chuckle at that. “Oh course,” he said as he offered his hand.

Moments later, the room was again empty.

#prompts #fanfiction #Frostiron

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