#sadly the roads were closed further up the mountain :(

[youjustwaitsunshine]

Spent the day on a tour to the High Caucasus today, this is between Gudauri - გუდაური and the pass road to Stepanzminda - სტეფანწმინდა at the Russia-Georgia Friendship Monument. It's to be said though that to a lot of Georgians, "friendship" is not the word they'd associate with Russia, especially Soviet Russia for that matter

[seraphimcollections]

gentle giant | Konig x medic!reader |

chapter 7

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT MDNI, NSFW, SMUT. p in v, cunnilingus (female receiving), cum eating, size kink if you squint, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it!), praise, Konig is STARVED.

summary: You had finally reached your forever home miles away from your old life. It was time to start over and begin anew, but there was only one thing keeping you back. And now he was standing in your front yard. Late.

w/c: 5.2

a/n: I said it was a slow burn ok! But here it is, the happy ending everyone's been waiting for. Thank you all for sticking with this series. Happy reading <3

| masterlist |

Few months later.

The last few months flew by like a blur. You virtually went into witness protection after your brief stay in the hospital. For a while you moved country to country, crossing border after border to make sure Shepherd had lost your trail. You kept in contact with the rest of the team, one of the men often staying with you for protection. Unfortunately for you, Konig hadn’t been a part of the rotation. It killed you not being able to speak to him, let alone write, but you knew the reason. It was for both of your safety. So the weeks passed like this, being handed off to Soap, then to Ghost, Gaz and then Price until you finally reached your final settlement. It came in the form of a small fishing village nestled in the mountains of Switzerland. It was quaint, a small old population of former miners and retirees. The closest major city was miles off and was only really accessible by boat. Price had driven you to your new home, a small cottage on the outskirts of the remote village, hidden by the tree line. You remembered how it was stepping out onto the dirt looking upon the abandoned home. At the back of the cottage was an overgrown path that led to a rickety pier over the murky lake that supported the small village. Ivy grew along its stone, the windows covered in dust. You deduced no one had been for a very long time. 

“It used to be an old rendezvous spot, back before I became captain,” Price explained as he helped you up the stairs. 

It wasn’t very much after your abduction that you had found yourself before this threshold. You still had a noticeable limp in your step, indicating to Price you still needed time to heal. Even so, he couldn’t stay for long. Price entered the house first, you stepping in warily behind him. He set your bag down on the small wooden table before looking for the light switch. 

“Has to be around here somewhere…” 

You stepped further into the room, noting the small living area that consisted of two assumed armchairs hidden by dusty sheets positioned around a small hearth. You winced as you hobbled over to the chair, pulling the sheet from one of the chairs. Your grunt melted into a groan as you finally sat down into the chair, watching Price as he finally lit the lamp on the dresser by one closed door. With the new light you took in your new surroundings carefully. The home was in deep disarray, dust covering everything with white linen sheets covering most of the furniture. The kitchen was small, consisting of an ancient looking stove and refrigerator. There were two doors, one by where Price stood and the other across the room by the threshold. It was small but more than enough. 

“It’s certainly…” 

“Dusty,” you finished. 

Price looked down at you and smiled, “you look good like this, sitting in that chair. It suits you.” 

“Are you saying I suit this old lady furniture, captain?” You half smiled. 

Price chuckled, popping a seat on the other armchair. His fingers laced together as a look of deep thought crossed his face. The two of you sat in brief silence before you spoke up again. 

“This is it, isn’t it? End of the road.” 

Price smiled sadly, “don’t have to sound so melancholy ‘bout it, love.” 

You sighed deeply, “all this mess, because of me. You all put yourself in danger because of my stupid slip up. Hardly seems fair.” 

“No,” Price said, voice hard. “We would do it again if we had to, and we, and I truly mean all of us, know you would do it for any of us if you had the chance.”  

You smiled and shook your head, gaze falling away from the Brit. A heavy silence fell between the two of you again. 

“You’re worried ‘bout ‘im,” said Price. 

You frowned, partially hating how easily the man could read you. You nodded. Price frowned and let out a sigh. 

“What if I don’t see him ever again? What if, what if he…” your voice faded. 

“Don’t think like that,” Price said. “He’ll come find you when he’s in the clear. Until then, you need to focus on starting your new life and healing.” 

“How are you so sure?” Your gaze found him again. “How can you be sure that he’ll come back?” 

Price sighed, a small smile gracing his lips, “something tells me there’s nothing that’s going to keep that bloke away.” 

You suddenly felt embarrassed that you were having this conversation with your captain, but it made sense. You and John had known each other the longest, which made all the more the sense for him to help you with the last stint of your long journey. Price grunted as he pushed himself back onto his feet, walking over to you before offering a hand. 

“Come on,” he called you by your real name, your callsign long and dead, “you need rest.” 

You couldn’t argue with that. Your body felt so heavy but your head was so light. You took Price’s hand, letting him hoist you to your feet. You were grateful he let you set your pace as you limped to the bedroom. Price pulled off the sheet covering the bed, letting it crumple to the floor. You sat on the bed, shoulders sagging in exhaustion. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a full night’s sleep. If it wasn’t the constant fear of Shepherd sending another one of his lap dogs after you, it was the unanswered question of König's condition. The latter was something that still plagued your mind, but you couldn’t fight sleep any longer. You fell back to the stale pillows, the moment your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.

The following weeks felt like an eternity. Price could only stay one more day before having to return to the field. You couldn’t hold that against him, he had already spent so much time carefully crafting your escape, and for that you were eternally grateful. Before he left, he gave you a small amount of bills and some supplies from the store in town.You had tried to give yourself grace to heal, but you were quickly going out of your mind. You had taken on the challenge of scrubbing the small cottage up and down, ridding the home from its dusty sheets. Slowly but surely, it was starting to become a home. You still missed your little apartment in Seattle, but you found yourself beginning to accept the reality that this was where your early retirement was going to be. The winter months were beginning to roll in, and you were lucky to find some leftover firewood stacked by the hearth in the parlor. When the snow began to finally fall, you sat on the porch for a while, watching the snowflakes eventually takeover the land. It was peaceful, something you didn’t realize you missed so much. 

However, that nagging feeling never left you. Konig still hadn’t come to find you. You wondered if he even knew where you were, and you felt useless being unable to message him in any way. Not that you even knew how, the man was an international man for hire -- a full James Bond, minus the overwhelming ego and womanizing characteristics. It was not lost on you how little you knew about the Austrian giant. He was kind but obviously ruthless in this line of work, but he wasn’t cruel. Something rare. It drove you crazy how much you yearned for him. How much you missed hearing his deep accent, how he would avert his gaze from you during those delicate conversations that seemed like eons ago. Oh but when he did, when he did look at you it felt like you were the only star in the universe. You missed how much feeling Konig held behind his gaze -- it made you wonder if he even knew how much power he had over you with just a look. How much power he still had over you now. 

But still, Konig wasn’t here. And it killed you. During those cold lonely nights when the want scratched the emptiness, your slender fingers would find their way underneath the layers of quilts, under the waistband of your pants and between your legs. It was a drip in the bucket and not nearly enough. It was a brief moment that led to immeasurable guilt and embarrassment. Here you were pleasuring yourself to a man who you had no idea felt the same about you. A part of you, perhaps a deluded part of you, believed that there was something there. That all those longing gazes, the brief but sweltering touches between the two of you -- the kiss -- that it all meant something to him like how it meant everything to you. But then that critical voice would poke in again. If he felt the same, then why wasn’t he here? 

This thought nearly drove you crazy but you wouldn’t allow yourself. You eventually willed up the courage to venture into the village. It was quiet with hardly anyone on the streets but those who you witnessed paid you no mind. You quickly understood that they didn’t take well to strangers, at least not right away. You didn’t give up though, finding yourself visiting the local shop to stock up every two weeks. Here you would find yourself talking to more of the locals, happy to see that your German wasn’t going to waste. Slowly you began to gain their trust, most happy to have another doctor in town. You were happy to offer your services for a small fee, grateful to find some way to stay afloat before you ran out of your allowance. 

You were settling into your life nicely, much to your surprise. But that would be too good to be true.

Your ears perked at the sound of tires crunching the snow up to your cottage. You lifted your gaze from your book you rented from the small bookshop in town, turning towards the frosted window. You didn’t have any appointments today. You immediately assumed the worst. Maybe one of the children got a fish hook stuck in your cheek? Or someone fell into the frozen lake while ice fishing? You didn’t mind, the casualties around here were nothing close to what you had experienced not more than a year ago. You got to your feet, donning your winter boots and coat before leaving through the door. You peered out over the snow of the small clearing in front of your porch, seeing a truck parked a little less than a meter away. You didn’t recognize the make, it being a little newer than the cars around here. Your eyes squinted as the engine revved to a stop but the driver didn’t step out. You stood frozen on the wooden porch as you tried your best to peer through the windshield to see the mysterious visitor. The seconds ticked by and you could feel your heart begin to beat faster as the driver finally creaked his door open. You watched as his heavy boot stomped onto the snow beneath him, stepping around to shut the heavy car door. Your eyes shot wide as you looked at the man before you. 

He looked no different from that day in the medical wing. The day where finally shed his shell, revealing himself to you. His roman nose, full lips and stubble beard. His auburn hair that began to gather the falling snowflakes. Those watery eyes that reminded you of a puppy. It was him, really him. 

“Bar…” you whispered in disbelief. 

Konig stood in casual wear, switching his tactical vest for a winter coat with a fur lined hood. He wore all black, something you had always assumed would be his everyday wear. But most importantly, he donned no shroud, letting you see his weary and almost anguished expression. You couldn’t bring yourself to move. You couldn’t trust your eyes. How could it be, after this time, Konig was truly standing in front of you like this, out of the blue? It couldn’t be. Your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and before you could really think you were already walking toward him. Quickly. You could feel the heat rising in your chest, tears prickling your waterline as you stalked toward the man. You had imagined this moment countless times, but you never imagined you would be this angry. Konig held up his hands, his mouth opening as if to speak but you wouldn’t let him. You couldn’t. You crouched down and thrust your fingers into their freezing snow, bundling it up into a small pile in your hands. 

“You-!” You cried, hurling the snow at him. “How dare you!” 

Konig flinched feeling the snow crash against his hair, melting almost instantly. But you wouldn’t let up, bowing for more snow before throwing it at him again. Konig held his hands still, barely shielding himself from your harmless attack. He deserved it, this much he knew. 

“Do you have any idea how long I waited, huh?” You shouted, the tears falling freely now. “I waited for you, to hear anything - anything to tell me that you were alive! But nothing!” 

“Mauschen, I can explain-” 

“Ich dachte, du wärst tot, dass ich den Rest meines Lebens leben müsste-” you stopped, not able to stop yourself from sobbing as you covered your wrist. “- alone, alone for the rest of my life…Don’t you know how scary that is?” 

Konig felt his throat shrivel as he was at a loss for words. How could you explain his time away from you? How could he possibly convince you when you were finally beginning to believe that you were alone in this, alone in this feeling. He couldn’t possibly think of anything that would suffice. So he did the next best thing. Konig took careful steps toward you, circling his large arms around as he held you close to his chest. Your face buried in his coat, you didn’t dare move as his hand rose to tangle in your hair. 

“Listen,” was all Konig could mutter. 

You pressed against him so tightly in the silence of the wintery forest, you listened. For a moment it was only silence until there it was. A heartbeat. Trapped underneath Konig’s ribcage, hammering fast. 

“Mein Herz schlägt immer noch für dich, kleine Maus.” 

You sniffled pathetically, finally raising your hands to grip onto his coat. You didn’t want to let go in fear that he would disappear, but Konig was done with that, and he was determined to prove that to you. 

“Come, liebling, you mustn’t stand in the cold like this,” Konig said softly. 

You nodded, finally departing from him as you both walked toward your little home. You stepped through the threshold, shedding your heavy coat and boots. Konig craned his head down as he stepped through, placing his boots and coat next to yours. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the parlor, waiting. As mentioned before, you had imagined this moment millions of times, but now that the time was finally here, your mind had come to a complete blank. But one thing was for sure -- you wanted answers. 

“What happened after Mexico?” Your arms crossed.

Konig scratched the back of his neck nervously. He had no doubt that you would have a long list of questions for him, and despite wanting nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and never let go (no matter if it became “too much” for you), he would have to wait just a little while longer. 

“Well, it was agreed that Shepherd wouldn’t let you go so easily, and definitely wouldn’t take lightly to his own men taking mutiny on him, so I went into hiding, same as you,” Konig said warily. “I stayed in a few different place but eventually I knew I had to find you. Captain Price was nice enough to keep me informed about your coordinates.” 

“And what took you so long?” You said pointedly. 

Konig gulped, “I had to tie up some loose ends before I came to find you. So we could fully start over. Together.” 

Together? 

The magic word. You didn’t move as Konig approached you, his gaze watery with regret and yearning. 

“Please know, I thought of you every day, Mauschen. Everything I did was to get back to you,” Konig said, his voice soft but carrying the weight of mountains. 

You felt yourself unraveling, faster than you could have ever imagined. You turned your gaze from him as more tears threatened to fall. 

“I thought I’d never see you again, and that all those times meant nothing,” you whispered. 

Konig gently brushed his fingertips against your cold cheeks, leading you to look up at him.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you, meine leibe. I regret having you worry for me, but I can’t help but feel happy,” Konig said, a small smile gracing his lips. 

You quietly scoffed, “happy?” 

Konig nodded, pressing his forehead down to yours, “yes, because that meant you truly cared for me as I care for you…And possibly still do.” 

Silence hung in the air for a moment as Konig waited patiently for your answer. You let out a shaky breath as your hands reached to meet his.

“Then, I’m happy too…that you feel the same as I do,” you whispered. 

“Can I kiss you?” Konig said rather brazenly, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. He lost count of the amount of times he dreamt of your lips. 

You felt your cheeks warm as you nodded. In the next moment, Konig’s lips pressed gently to yours as if testing the waters. But you couldn’t hold back anymore. You leaned into the kiss wantonly, standing on your toes to meet him. An entanglement of lips, breath and gentle moans followed as you embraced, your hands finding purchase in Konig’s shirt. Only when the two of you surfaced for breath did you pull away from each other. Konig’s hands slipped further to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You looked up at him as he towered over you, sensing something new in his eyes. Hunger. 

“Are you expecting anyone?” Konig asked. 

“No,” you said breathlessly. 

“Gut.” 

With that, Konig bent down and stole a kiss from you again, his hands finding their way under your thighs. “Jump, Maus.”

You did as you were told, allowing Konig to lift you to straddle his waist, lips never leaving yours. Konig parted from you with a small moan. He’s going to kill me. 

“Where’s your bedroom,” he said, manners only slipping slightly. 

“Door behind you,” you whispered. 

Konig followed obediently to your bedroom, placing open mouth kisses along your neck. You moan softly, the months of being deprived of touch catching up to you. Konig placed you gently on the bed, stepping back from you but only enough for your noses to not barely touch. It wasn’t lost on you either how Konig seemed to be barely keeping himself together also. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” He said, almost as if warning you. 

You shook your head, “you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” 

Konig chuckled, making something in your gut quiver. He leaned down to nip on the shell of your ear, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck. 

“You don’t know how happy you have made me, schatz.” 

His hands felt somehow warm despite the frigid temperature outside as he smoothed his palm up your abdomen, bunching up your shirt around your waist. Seeing him frown made you freeze. 

“What’s wrong?” You said breathlessly. 

You followed his gaze to the scars scattered on your skin. You shivered feeling Konig press his lips to your skin with soft angel kisses. 

“For as long as I'm here, no one will harm. I promise you, meine liebling,” Konig whispered. 

Konig moved your shirt until it was bunched above your breasts.  You omitted a bra today, seeing as you weren’t expecting anyone. The sight was enough to nearly take him out, but he didn’t move. You watched Konig’s expression and it was clear that he was holding back. He was so much easier to read without his shroud. 

“Bar” you called gently to him, your hand finding his hands, “it’s okay…let go.” 

Konig’s eyes widened just a fraction of your words. The blood draining from his head and straight to his cock. He was barely holding on, and then you went and said that. You would be the death of him. 

“I won’t be able to stop,” Konig said, his voice giving way to something else. Something primal. “Are you sure?” 

You nodded shakily, leading his hands up to your breasts. Konig let out a strangled groan before smashing his lips to yours. His hands framed your face as he kissed the air out of you, leaving you nearly seeing stars when he finally parted from you. He kissed down your neck, moving lower and lower until he reached your left mound. He was on you immediately, his hot tongue swiping your left nipple into his wet cavern. He moaned as he hands pinched and groped at your flesh, slipping underneath your waist band. His fingers found your damp panties sticking to your core.

“F-fuck,” Konig groaned against you, his eyes looking up into yours. “I’ve waited for this for so long.”

You gasped as his slender fingers massaged the hood of your clit through your panties. 

“D-don’t tease, please,” you whined, face turning a deeper shade of pink. 

Konig smiled as he leaned back on his haunches, fingers moving back to your waistband. 

“I’m sorry, Mauschen, I couldn’t resist,” Konig said. 

You lifted yourself as Konig pulled down your sweats, leaving you only in your underwear. His hands felt hot underneath your thighs as he slipped between them. You were suddenly aware how bare you were compared to him, moving to cover yourself in vain. Konig reached and grabbed your wrist gently, shaking his head.

“Don’t, you’re beautiful,” Konig said, words dripping with honey. 

You were sure you were as red as a tomato but Konig wouldn’t relent. Konig stepped off the bed, pulling white henley over his head, revealing his toned and fit torso. You drunk him in like the god’s nectar, committing every muscle dip and valley to memory. Your eyes traveled down to the sharp ‘V’ of his pelvis to his jeans. He palmed himself through them, your eyes marveling just how tight (and uncomfortable) they looked around his member, showing his dick print. Konig unbuckled his belt and it felt like the world had disappeared outside of this room -- leaving only the two of you. Your mouth went dry watching Konig pull the zipper down torturously slow, exposing his navy boxers stained with his precum. He was big, bigger than you’d ever seen. God this man was a specimen, enough to make Hercules blush and balk at his stature. A living god. You could feel the excitement pool between your thighs.

Konig was breathing heavily, evident on how his sculpted body moved up and down, pale but scarred skin beginning to glisten with sweat. His fingers found purchase underneath your panties, moving them to the side to reveal your glistening pussy. He crawled to you, his nose mere inches from your core. He let out a hot breath, his eyes changed to resemble the gaze a wolf would give a trapped hare, meeting up to gaze upon your expression. 

“You’ll need to be prepped before you take all of me, liebling,” he growled, “Geduld, mein Schatz.” 

You didn’t have a moment to catch yourself before Konig swiped his hot tongue through your folds, gathering your juices greedily. You threw your head back in pleasure, a silent scream escaping your slack jaw. Konig ate at you hungrily, moaning and grinding into the comforter. You tasted as sweet as honeydew on a hot summer’s day and he couldn’t get enough. He bullied his tongue into you, nose bumping repeatedly into the hood of your clit, making you shriek. Your hands combed through his fiery locks, pulling gently. He ate you out like a starved man, sloppy noises and moans coming from between your legs. You slick covered his nose and stubble but he wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Your back arched, letting out a cry as Konig slipped a finger into your hole, curling it toward him. 

“Fuck- oh, Konig, don’t- don’t stop, god,” you rambled, thighs threatening to suffocate the man. 

Konig hummed, sucking your clit as he added another finger, and then another. Tears threatened to fall as his fingers pistoned out of you at an incredible pace, the fire in your belly climbing higher and higher. Promising to ruin you. 

“Agh! Wait, baby, I’m gonna-” you moaned, fingers pulling his hair harder. 

“Cum for me, Maus, cover me with it- Scheiße” Konig moaned. 

With the final curl of his finger you let out a strangled cry as your back arched, painting his fingers with your slick. Konig moaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licked up all of you. Finally once he had his fill he lifted himself before crashing his lips hungrily onto yours. You moaned into the kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. When he pulled back, a mix of your saliva and slick on his lips he smiled. His hand pulled down his boxer and you watched his head snap out to his abs, its mushroom head red and angry. He looked so hard it hurt. Your hand wrapped around, finding it not the easiest to do with how long and girthy he was. He hissed as you slowly jacked him, moving in tune with his grinding hips. 

“I need you, now,” Konig said, the last chains of control beginning to break. 

You gripped his head tightly, looking into his eyes with all the love and desire you could muster. 

“Then take me, Konig,” you whispered. 

Konig huffed, spreading your thighs impossibly wider to fit his large body as he swiped the tip through your leaky folds, poking at your hole. 

“Deep breath for me, liebling,” he sighed into your ear.

A deep breath wouldn’t be enough to numb the feeling of how absolutely stretched you were. You let out a sharp cry as his tip stretched you, sinking deeper into you. Your back arched allowing Kong to slip his arms around you and hold you tight against his hard chest. Tears fell from the corner of your eyes as your hands looked for anything to hold onto. Konig bit into your shoulder with a groan, guaranteed to leave a mark in the morning. 

“F-fuuuck, so fucking tight for me,” he voice guttural. “If you don’t relax I won’t be able to last long, verdammt.” 

You choked out a moan when you finally felt his hilt against you, balls slapping against your ass. Konig didn’t move, wanting anything but to hurt you but it was so fucking hard how tight you were squeezing him. Konig arched to look down between you to see where the two of you joined. 

“Taking me so well, my love,” Konig whimpered. “Mm- Such a tight fucking pussy.” 

Konig retracted his hips and you felt like you were already seeing white from how he rubbed every inch of you, parts of you you didn’t even know existed. He snapped his hips back, quickly falling into a steady rhythm. You were a spasming mess beneath him, moaning and clawing at his back as he pistoned into you relentlessly. You moaned his name repeatedly like a chant, one hand tangling into his locks and the other his thigh. He moaned into your ear as he ground his hips into you, grinding into your clit. 

“F-fuck fuck fuck- Konig ‘s too deep!” 

“You can take it baby, doin’ so good f’me,” Konig slurred, absolutely pussy-drunk. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his tip bumped your cervix, making your thighs shake around him. You felt warmth rush from your core, coating both you and Konig’s sexes .

“Fuck me,” Konig growled, pistoning even faster into you. “You’re fucking perfect, Maus.” 

Konig leaned back to admire your fucked out state, hair frayed, lips pink and a your eyes glazed from exhaustion. But he was nowhere near finished, but he didn’t have much time by how your fluttering cunt hugged him so heavenly. Konig’s hands moved to your hips, lifting you into his thrusts, hitting impossibly deeper. He was amazed that despite how small you were, you took every inch of his cock into your hungry hole. A crazed look sparkled in his eye as he looked at your navel, seeing a small bump every time he thrust into you. 

“My poor schatz, been waiting for me to come fill this hungry cunt of yours, eh?” He smiled, proud of himself that he had the power to make you unravel like this. 

You couldn’t formulate words, way too far gone. You moaned helplessly, your breasts bouncing harder as Konig picked up his brutal pace. He could feel you begin to tighten around him once more and he knew that his time was close. 

“Where do you want it,” Konig gasped. 

“Inside- fuck! P-please, cum inside me, Konig!” You cried. 

Konig may have lost it there. His hips gained a mind of their own as he drove you over the edge, falling into oblivion with a howl. Konig crashed his lips to yours once more, claiming you inside and out. Soul and body. Your legs curled around him, trying to bring him even deeper. Konig pulled away with a heavy breath, obviously spent. He didn’t want to crush you under his weight, gently pulling out and watching with satisfaction how his seed dribbled from your ruined hole. He collapsed next to you, his arm thrown across your torso in an attempt to hold you but you both knew you were exhausted. It took a few seconds to come down from your high before you turned to look at him, only to find that he was looking at you the whole time. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, worry in his eyes. 

You shook your head, your throat too raw to speak. Konig’s fingers glided across your cheek. 

“You’re so beautiful, how could I have gotten so lucky?” Konig smiled. 

You smiled, “could say the same about you.” 

A comfortable silence came between you before the heavy thoughts began to poke at you. Konig could see you retreat into your thoughts, his thumb wiping away the tear stains from earlier. 

“What’s wrong, liebling?” 

“Will you…stay with me?” You said, your eyes searching for any apprehension in his. 

Konig smiled before pressing a gentle kiss on your lips. 

“I will follow you to the end of the earth, Mauschen, as long as you will have me,” he whispered. 

“I love you,” you whispered, kissing the palm of his hand as tears welled in your eyes. “I’m so happy I finally got to say it.” 

Konig smiled, his heart feeling so full. He kissed you again before keeping his forehead pressed against yours. 

“I love you too, my little mouse.”

a/n: thank you, thank you, thank you!

TAGLIST:

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@frostygiant24-blog @peachymonsters @frazie99 @cocrorapop

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@that-napa-know-how @animechick555

[westadventure24]

Day 8 - Driving and Walking

As you probably have figured out, I am still getting caught up on our trip over the last several days when we had no service. As I awake to the sound of a dove cooing, the cool breeze and the general peace of the Montana outdoors, this post will report on yesterday’s events. However, I will likely be back in the hole soon as we leave this morning for Theodore Roosevelt State Park, ND, where again we will not have service.

Day 8 was a day of driving as we said goodbye to Yellowstone and headed towards Montana on the magnificent Beartooth Pass. Yellowstone gave us one last treat we passed through the expanse of the Lamar Valley, where we were entertained by multiple herds of my old friends 🦬 and a pack of wolves, though they were too far away to photograph. Our particular favorite was the mama bison and her very aggressive nursing baby. Sorry, Carl, still no moose, I am sad to say.

Lew had told us the Beartooth Pass was one of his favorites. It was legendary! This two lane road, up to the top of a snowy mountain and back down was truly breathtaking and terrifying all at the same time. There is only guard rail in spots and I am sure it is placed there to help its drivers mentally…not sure it would help much if needed physically! You did read that correctly….I did say snowy! We even passed a snow plow! The temperature at the top of the mountain was just below freezing and it was easy to tell this was a new fallen snow.

After exiting the pass and back to the interstate, we made our way to a the small town of Hardin near a Crow Indian Reservation. As Todd and I like to stop at local eateries, we took Mom and Dad to the Lariat Country Kitchen. Even though it was 3 pm and it closed at 4pm, the place was packed! Here, we filled our bellies with good food and even talked with some visitors from a much farther away land than ours….this couple was from jolly old England!

Our original plan was to see the Battle of Big Horn site, but had to pass as we were in 30 minutes of closing. Maybe next time!

We arrived at our new camp spot, 7th Ranch RV, which is quite lovely. Definitely a highlight of the trip for Lily as she got to play off leash! She also managed to get into trouble rolling in a sticky substance as Todd was photographing the grouse they scared up on their walk. Needless to say she ended up with an unwanted sponge bath!

On a more serious note, my brother, Larry, and his entire family are participating in a walk to end Alzheimer’s on Saturday. Sadly, this horrible disease has impacted our parents on both sides of our family. Not only is it heartbreaking to watch the decline of the parent with the disease, but also the loving spouse who becomes a full time caregiver of the most important person in their world for the last 60 or 70 years. I am including the link for Larry and Karen’s team if you are interested in donating to their team walk to help Alzheimer’s researchers and physicians make further strides to end this disease. Thank you for supporting us and them!

More good travels to come on Day 9! Love to all!

[sosos-adventures]

More about Ha Giang:

Day 1:

After having done the Hai Van pass I thought this would be a similar experience. And boy was I wrong. The motorbikes werent as big and there was no confy seat in the back to not literally get a pain in the ass. So it was a simple motorbike and we had to hold our hands at the back of the bike where our backpacks were put. Naema was able to just put her arms around her easyrider. Well I wasnt. It felt weird so I jusz didnt. And lets just say great workout while actually not doing anything. For the arms and especially my belly. I cant really describe it but the way you sit on the bike and try not to fall down.. that was the workout. And yes after a day we could feel our butts quite a bit. But enough about that. Why is this trip so incredible:

You get to see such a beautiful nature. Mountains everywhere, the road and waterfalls. And the fresh air in youe face. I often put my hands in the air, closed my eyea and imagined I was flying. Amazing feeling. As my easyrider always went first I even had the better view with noone in front of us. Just the road.

Every half an hour we had a break to enjoy the view but also for the riders to get some rest. Sometimes there were many other groups with up to 25 or 30 people partying. Still glad we went on a solo trip for this one. One of the stops was a small village where we were able to see Mong ethnic minority women in colorful clothes making linen from flax. Extrenely impressive how long tbis process actually take. And how many steps it takes.

We got to see many limestones that are part of the UNESCO world heritage and stopped for a beautiful view to see the roads of the loop while also seeing locals - mostly children- wearing baskets with yellow flowers in it. All in alm a great first day. It was really foggy at the beginning but it started to get way better in the afternoon. Because believe me... if itvis foggy, doing the loop is not really spectacular. You wont be able to see much..

Before arriving at our homestay for the night we biked a little further to get so see the chinese border - from far away.. other groups make it all the way to the tower that is right at the border.. sadly we did not. But we gor to see the long fence on the other side of the mountain. Crazy feeling to see China so nearby. Whoever has a good eyesight might be able to see the fence. I am pointing at it :) Maybe this will be our next travel adventure? Its still on my list to be standing on the chinese wall. Lets see where life will take us to.

The closest we actually goto china was by bus on our way to Ha Giang. Here is the proof:

Anyway. Great forst day for the Ha Giang loop. And we got exzrenely lucky with our homestay. While other geouos share a big srom, we got a peivate room with a view over the town. And some great dinner with our easyriders and the owners of the homestay.

[kingeomer]

Come Live In My Heart

Geralt/Jasker / rated teen / 2,402 words / ao3.

i wrote this back in november i think? or december? idk. alongside @jaskierswolf as we were both pining over omegas nesting. they wrote omega!jaskier, i wrote omega!geralt. their take is here, should you wish to read it.

Geralt only ever went into heat during the winter time. Witcher mutations had suppressed most secondary gender characteristics, the need to mate being stripped away from a witcher alongside their fertility. The need to mate, however, had lingered, though the frequency of ruts and heats had diminished.

Geralt’s second round of trials had lessened his heats further, confusing his body into laying dormant. As a young witcher at Kaer Morhen, he’d experienced his heats more often, driven half mad with a need to procreate that would get him nowhere once or twice every few months. If he spent enough time with a strong alpha while on the path, the need would crop up on occasion, but human alphas weren’t usually strong enough, and besides. A witcher’s path was best travelled alone.

Over time and after the sacking of Kaer Morhen, his heats had all but disappeared, only resurfacing when surrounded by his family, hidden away in the warmth of the old keep. The first heat after the sacking had been horrendous, triggered as soon as he’d been greeted by what remained of his once large pack. Building a nest out of blankets, pillows, clothes that still smelled of his now dead friends had hurt, the pain almost too much to bear.

Being the last omega wolf had felt a curse those first few winters, but over time, he’d adjusted.

Over time, he’d found a companion on the road. He hadn’t wanted the young alpha anywhere near him, initially. The bard, Jaskier, he’d called himself, had reeked of alpha hormones, a strong, earthy smell to his slight form. He was young, no doubt driven by his knot, and he had too much energy.

And yet he wouldn’t leave Geralt alone. He followed him from town to town, wrote songs about him, would rent rooms for them to share at taverns and insist on helping Geralt bathe.

Over time, Jaskier started to smell like home.

Years of travelling together, of practically living in one another’s pockets for weeks and months at a time had formed something close to a bond between them. It had confused Jaskier to start with, which was when Geralt realised the bard had no idea he’d been travelling with an omega for months at a time.

That’d been a hard conversation, one that ended with Jaskier looking at Geralt sadly, eyes shining with emotions Geralt didn’t want to unpack. In the weeks after, Geralt kept finding odd scraps of Jaskier’s clothing in his pack. A scarf here, a pair of gloves there, a shirt stuffed deep down amidst Geralt’s bedding.

Neither of them spoke about it, but Geralt would sit a little closer to Jaskier by their campfire, or press close to his side in hole-in-the-wall taverns.

For years, the two of them had gone their separate ways for winter. Geralt didn’t fully understand why or how his bard had wound up becoming a professor at Oxenfurt, and it had been so long he didn’t dare ask.

This year, though, things felt different. With tensions rising across the Continent, Geralt didn’t want Jaskier travelling alone, he didn’t want him unprotected in a strange city, mountains and heavy snow separating his al— his fri— his companion from his protection. Geralt had stewed over the issue for weeks, but as leaves began to fall from the trees, he had to broach the subject.

“Come with me— this winter,” Geralt had said almost out of the blue, the two of them picking at roast rabbit as they sat by their campfire. Jaskier had paused, fingers halfway to his mouth to lick them clean, eyes like saucers and his tongue peeking out slightly. Geralt had to shake his head to knock the sudden woolly feeling from between his ears, feeling his cheeks heat in the closest thing to a blush his butchered body could manage.

“To Kaer Morhen, I— I’d like to know you’re safe,” Geralt finished, eyes drawn to the flames flickering in front of him, to the tree Roach was hitched to, anywhere but at Jaskier, who he could tell was beaming from ear to ear.

“Oh! Oh, I— Yes! Yes, that’d be wonderful!” Jaskier’s joy drew Geralt’s eyes to him, and Jaskier’s bright smile made Geralt’s own lips twitch upwards.

The journey up the mountain was hard even for Geralt, so for Jaskier it was an ordeal. Geralt had insisted he ride on Roach’s back until he couldn’t any longer, the trail too treacherous for the mare to manage so burdened. The two of them were almost frozen through by the time they arrived. The last stretch of the trail had been spent with chattering teeth and stumbling footsteps, the two of them huddled together as they waited at last for the heavy wooden doors to open.

Jaskier’s first night and day at the fabled Kaer Morhen were spent hidden under a mountain of blankets with Geralt, the two of them shaking from the cold in each other’s arms. Vesemir had eventually let himself into the room with a tray ladened with hot stew and mulled wine, the bags they’d dragged up the mountain pass over his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Pup.” Vesemir’s voice was warm as always, filled with deep affection and love for the omega. He set the bags down at the foot of the bed so he could hand over the bowls of stew, sparing a warm smile for Jaskier as the alpha shuffled around, leaning against the headboard with pink-tinted cheeks and sleepy eyes. “And it’s wonderful to finally meet the famous Jaskier!” He added with a teasing glint in his eye, glancing back over to Geralt who squirmed a little.

“You— I’m sorry, he talks about me?” Jaskier asked, voice incredulous and pulling a gentle laugh from Vesemir as he placed a mug of wine down on the bedside table.

“You’re practically his favourite subject, lad,” he teased further, pulling a groan out of the omega, bordering on a petulant whine. Vesemir simply laughed, turning away from the mound of blankets and heading for the door again.

“Your brothers arrived a few days ago, Geralt. It’d be nice to see you both at dinner.” His tone of voice left little room for disagreement, to which Geralt grunted his response around a mouthful of food. The two alphas in the room rolled their eyes fondly before sharing a brief look, some sort of understanding passing between them silently.

“We’ll be there, Vesemir. You have my word,” Jaskier insisted, the old witcher giving him a nod before he turned to leave.

That evening was filled with food and good company, and Geralt and Jaskier retired to bed sleepy and full, curled up under heavy blankets with smiles on their faces.

The next few weeks passed slowly and comfortably. Jaskier had never seen Geralt eat as much as he was at home, his hard body softening as he relaxed with his family, time spent lounging in armchairs, stuffing his face with rich foods. He smiled easier, too, and leaned into touches from the alphas surrounding him. Geralt would purr sometimes, a soft rumble coming from deep within his chest as he curled up close to Jaskier in the evening and read from an old book or listened to the alpha sing.

Geralt knew his heat was coming. It took a few weeks, usually, settling into his home and getting comfortable, surrounded by his pack where he would be safe and cared for attentively.

Watching Jaskier slot into his pack so easily was the trigger this time. Seeing him with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone helping to chop wood and tend to animals, the beard growing contest he’d started with Eskel and Lambert, the easy way Vesemir had made space for a loud, messy human at their table… It made something in Geralt ache, deep inside.

He excused himself from the breakfast table one morning no different from every other that had passed and made a beeline straight for his bedroom.

First, he stoked the fire in the fireplace. Then he started digging through the dresser and the wardrobe on either side of it, pulling out old furs and pillows and spare blankets. Carrying an armful at a time, he dropped everything onto the mattress and regarded the pile, hands on his hips.

Time to work.

He started with the pillows, placing most of them around the headboard and making sure the ones he and Jaskier had been using were at the top where the scents would be stronger. He laid two large furs across the mattress, making the bed feel softer, warmer. More luxurious under his hands as he touched it, fingers curling in the fabric as he hummed contently.

He started adding extra blankets only to stop, frowning. It wasn’t enough. Wasn’t anywhere near good enough. Geralt stepped away from the bed, annoyed at himself. What else did he need? Glancing around the room, his eyes landed on his and Jaskier’s bags. Of course. He grabbed them both off the floor and tipped them onto the bed, and oh. Oh, everything was perfect.

He shook out one of Jaskier’s loose white shirts, fully intending to add it to the pile of blankets, but instead he stripped his own shirt off and put it on. It was a snug fit, but he was covered in Jaskier’s scent this way. The rest of the clothes he scattered around the bed, adding a knitted scarf and a jumper to the pillows. Geralt intended to put all the trinkets and odd bits and pieces back in the bags, but his hand paused as he picked up a quill.

He needed it. Geralt couldn’t explain why, but he had to find the perfect place for it. Same with a scrap of parchment from the bottom of Jaskier’s bag, no doubt a piece that’d torn off the roll while he’d been pulling things out. Or, oh. The comb Jaskier would use to untangle Geralt’s hair after washing it for him. Yes, they needed to be in the nest, too. He placed each item on the pillows for now. He’d find a better place once the nest was finished.

Geralt left the bedroom once he’d run out of suitable supplies and he went from bedroom to bedroom. Starting with Eskel, he took a blanket, two scarves, a ball of wool, and leather gloves. Next was Lambert, who had the softest pillows Geralt had ever laid his head on, and a warm fur lined jacket Geralt always eyed with envy. He slipped it on over Jaskier’s shirt and sighed, burying his nose in the lapel as he wrapped it tightly around himself.

Geralt saved Vesemir’s room for last, he always did. The old alpha spent all year here, so his belongings were always the best. The smell of old books, leather, and something like honey hit his nose as he opened the door, causing Geralt to shudder. He snatched the blanket from the bed as well as a pillow, a soft robe, a buckle that was to be fixed back onto his armour.

Heading back to his bedroom with his arms full to overflowing, Geralt felt incredibly pleased with himself. His nest was going to be perfect this year. Adding all the final pieces, Geralt was about to slip under the mass of furs and blankets when his eyes landed on something he hadn’t noticed earlier.

Jaskier’s rings. He’d taken them off at some point so he wouldn’t lose any, left them on the bedside table alongside his latest compositions and quill and ink. Geralt ran his tongue over his lip before he grabbed the handful of rings up. He knew they wouldn’t fit on his own fingers, Jaskier’s far slimmer than his own, but...

He took his amulet off and threaded each ring onto the chain, an overwhelmingly warm feeling sweeping through him as Jaskier’s signet ring sat against his wolf medallion. Putting the chain back over his head, he held them to his chest, heart beating wildly beneath.

It was almost time, he thought. Finally crawling into his perfect nest, Geralt sank into the pillows, inhaling the rich scents of home.

Geralt awoke later feeling warm all over, an uncomfortable itch deep inside that he knew he couldn’t scratch. His heat had begun like it always did, a slow, simmering thing that would take days to overwhelm him.

His attempt to roll onto his side and breathe in the smell of his alphas was thwarted by a heavy weight on top of him, causing Geralt to open his eyes at last.

The bed around him was full; Eskel on his left with one large arm pinning him down, Vesemir to his right simply present. Lambert was further down the bed, his red curls fanned out over Geralt’s thigh. So that meant… Bright blue eyes peered down at him, framed by long dark lashes. Jaskier smiled, his lips standing out full and red among his dark beard, hair falling into his eyes.

Gods, what a sight he was.

“Your nest is perfect, darling,” Jaskier told him, leaning in to nuzzle at Geralt’s neck softly, spreading his scent carefully across the witcher’s body as he combed a hand carefully through long white hair. Geralt’s breath stuttered in his chest as Jaskier ghosted over his throat, his lips so close to where Geralt longed for a bite.

“Not now, Geralt. Not… Not when you’re this close,” Jaskier looked up at him then, his eyes saying so much more than words could. Geralt touched Jaskier then, a broad hand sliding up under his shirt to feel warm skin. The touch was enough to make Geralt shudder, needing the skin to skin contact so much he ached.

“I— I’m happy you’re here, Jaskier. I need you,” Geralt spoke softly, his words half a purr of contentment as Jaskier smiled down at him. The alpha leaned in to kiss him softly, the barest brush of lips, but it was enough to make Geralt dizzy, his fingers curling into Jaskier’s chest hair as his toes curled into the blankets beneath him.

It’d take a few days for his heat to peak, the others would drift off and leave before then, should Geralt tell them he wished to see it through with Jaskier. And then they’d have all winter to work out what to do next.

[unusualindigo]

These Magic Moments, Chapter 2; Simple Man

AD 2204, 6/6, 6th Hierarchical City of Yabiko – NOL Branch

Bang watches as Carl goes, pride shining in his eyes and soul. Perhaps… Perhaps things will turn out right after all.

“That was… How did you do that?” Or perhaps not. Bang turns to see Amane staring at him with wonder. Those icy eyes, filled with such warmth. He’s in trouble for sure.

He clears his throat and smiles awkwardly. “W-Whatever do you mean, Nishiki?”

Amane’s eyes narrow, but maintain their warm curiosity. “I’ve never seen Carl act so sweetly. Ever. How did you get him to open up like that?”

Amane walks closer, never breaking eye contact, stopping less than a meter away from the nervous Bang, who clears his throat. “I didn’t do anything. Master Carl merely sought me out for comfort, and I, as his mentor, provided it.”

Amane hums, quirking a brow and the corner of his mouth. “Really? I find that hard to believe. You and Carl must be pretty close.”

Bang swallows thickly, then furrows his brows with a determined smile. “O-Of course! He is my beloved second disciple, after all! The bond between master and student is as unshakable as the mountains themselves!”

Amane chuckles. “That’s a bold claim. Say, how did you meet Carl anyway? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”

Amane sits down primly into Carl’s former seat. Bang falls back into his seat, a pensive frown marring his handsome face. Bang thinks over whether the story is his to tell. He wouldn’t want to invade Carl’s privacy… But perhaps knowing the circumstances will soften Amane’s approach to his disciple.

Bang nods to himself. “Very well. It all begins in Ronin-Gai. I was doing my usual patrol, when I came across Master Carl, he was in rough shape. I took him into my home to recover, and after he woke, he surprised me.”

“Oh? How’s that?” Amane smiles cheekily, quirking a brow once more.

Bang laughs. “Well, it’s not every day that one so young declares himself a vigilante. I decided to take him under my wing at once. As an older vigilante, it is my duty to ensure the safety of my younger counterparts.”

Amane hums, smiling fondly at him. “I see. So, how did that go for you?”

Bang rubs the back of his head, cheeks heating slightly as he smiles. “W-Well, Master Carl has always been hesitant to ask for help. It took quite a bit of persuasion, in tandem with a test of our abilities, to convince him to train with me for a while.”

Amane smiles wider, raising his brow further into a friendly smirk. “Oh? Sounds to me like you got a little lucky there. If Carl hadn’t been so grateful, he might’ve just walked away. If that was the case, I’m not so sure you’d be faring any better than I have in recruiting him.”

Bang hums, frowning sadly. “You… May be right. But still, I persisted, and Master Carl gave me a chance to prove my worth as a mentor. For several days we trained together until we had to set out on our own journeys through Kagutsuchi. Fate saw fit to bring us together again on the road to Ikaruga, where we deepened the bond of master and disciple. The rest is history.”

Amane looks pensively at Bang. “You won him over pretty quickly. What makes your approach so different than mine? I have to say, you sound like you have a strong come-on yourself.”

Bang huffs a sigh. “While it’s true that I can be a bit… passionate, in my ways, I don’t think I’ve ever resorted to bondage to ‘recruit’ someone.”

Amane glares at him, a pouty frown on his painted lips. “Hey, hey. I already said that was just a misunderstanding between me and my boys. If you hadn’t gone in all guns a blazing and just listened for a second, you’d know that we were just trying to get Carl to hear us out.”

Bang meets his icy glare with a stare of amber iron. “Master Carl has always chosen his own counsel, Nishiki. You can no more make him hear you out than you can force Tao to behave formally. I find that the best approach is a suggestion.”

Amane furrows his brows. “A suggestion? What do you mean, Shishigami?”

Bang shrugs. “It is just that. Merely let him know you are available to him, and he may decide to seek you out. As Master Tenjo used to say, ‘There’s nothing more vital to the bond you share with someone than simply being there for them.’”

Amane blinks, then hums, looking pensive. He murmurs. “Just let him know I’m available, huh…?” He redirects his eyes to Bang after a few moments, curiosity returning. “This ‘Master Tenjo’ of yours, they wouldn’t happen to be…?”

Bang smiles sadly. “Indeed. Tenjo Amanohokosaka was indeed my mentor. Though she was only a few years older than myself, she taught Mutsuki and I nearly all we know.”

Amane hums again, smiling gently. “That’s impressive and generous.”

Bang laughs. “Ha-Ha! Indeed, she was.” His smile dips somewhat. Nostalgia and sadness fill his eyes. “She took in a commoner’s child, just to show that we could all stand up for our comrades, no matter our station…” Bang loses himself in memories for a moment.

Amane looks on, looking conflicted and sympathetic. Slowly, he reaches out and tenderly squeezes Bang’s larger hand with his own.

Bang blinks, snapping out of his daze, and smiles gratefully at Amane. “I’m sorry. The subject of Master Tenjo is close to my heart.”

Amane smiles sympathetically. “I’m glad. Not everyone can remember their teachers. Even when they should.” Amane’s icy eyes hold hints of regret.

Bang squeezes the hand he’s clasping, smiling at Amane warmly. “I feel like there’s a story there. Would you like to share?”

Amane frowns, his eyes full of thoughts and conflict. He thinks carefully for a moment, then gently shakes his head. “Perhaps some other time.”

Bang nods. “I understand. Just know that I am here, at any time you should need me.”

Amane smiles at him once more, and Bang feels his heart flutter with emotion he dares not name. “Thank you, Shishigami.”

Amane retracts his hand, and Bang does his best to hold off the twitch and twinge of sadness at the loss. Bang clears his throat, smile only wobbling for an instant. “W-Well, as I was saying, Master Tenjo taught me that the best approach to get someone to open up is to be gentle and patient. Don’t try to force things, or they’ll only close themselves off from you.”

Amane hums. “Hmm… Just be gentle… I’ll give it a whirl.” His smile turns back into his usual friendly smirk. “Thanks again, Shishigami. Seems like you’re entering something of a guru phase today.”

Bang chuckles. “Me? A guru? Ah, I could only dream of such a thing. I still have much to learn.” His face turns serious. “Nishiki, promise me that there won’t be any more bondage involved in your pursuit of Master Carl. I cannot stand by and allow for that.”

Amane huffs, frowning and tilting back his head. He looks like a scolded cat. “I already said it was just a misunderstanding.” Bang’s expression doesn’t change. Amane pouts and crosses his arms, sinking into his seat. “Fine. ‘No more force. I swear it on the name of Uzume.’ There, happy?”

Amane raises a brow critically, and Bang nods, smiling once more. “Thank you, Nishiki. I understand your frustration, but Master Carl is under enough stress these days. I’m grateful that you can understand.”

Amane rolls his eyes. “Duh. I’ve heard enough about Kokonoe to know that she’s got one hell of a stick up her ass.”

Bang sputters, cheeks glowing. Amane doesn’t curse often, and to hear such crude words pass his pretty lips is… “A-Anyway, did you have any other questions?” Bang smiles nervously, trying to crash that particular train of thought.

Amane blinks, then smirks slyly. Bang really is too easy to read for his own good. “As a matter of fact, I’m curious. How did you meet Tenjo? You said you’re a commoner?”

Bang blinks, then nods, his smile full of relief at the change in subject. “Indeed, I am. Though we Shishigamis have served in the NOL nearly since its founding, we never sought a higher status than what we had.”

Amane hums, smiling brightly. “That’s pretty honest of you.”

Bang smiles. “Of course! A good man never seeks status, but the betterment of his comrades. When I was still a young boy, I happened upon Tenjo, who was in a fight with some other commoners. Though she could have easily dispatched them, Tenjo was never one who took joy in battle, especially against those who were weaker than herself. I managed to fend them off without her needing to intervene, and in turn, she insisted that I learn to properly defend myself. From that moment on, I was her second disciple.” Bang’s smile once again fills with nostalgia and a lion’s pride.

Amane blinks. “Second disciple?”

Bang nods, face sobering somewhat. “Indeed. As the heir to the Imperator, Tenjo was already meant to be training Mutsuki, the heir to the Duodecim, in their unique style. My coming was… controversial, to say the least. Tenjo’s mother was quite insistent that the rest of the Duodecim allow Tenjo to keep her promise, however, and I was eventually let in on their training.”

Amane hums. “The Amanohokosakas sound like a very generous sort.”

Bang smiles proudly once again. “Indeed! Imperator Homura inherits all their mother’s wisdom and generosity. Look no further than their understanding of Master Carl’s situation, for example. Now, the training was quite grueling, but Tenjo never gave up on me. Even when Mutsuki would tease me for being the older of us (though he knew damn well it was only by two weeks, the scoundrel) and knowing less than he, she was quick to come to my aid.”

Amane hums, frowning. “Mutsuki bullied you?”

Bang waves his hands frantically. “N-No! It was only some boyish teasing, calling me, ‘Old Man’ and such. Nothing to be upset about today, I assure you.”

Amane only relaxes a little, frown still in place. Bang clears his throat. “As I was saying, Tenjo was always patient with me, even when her instructors told her to leave me by the wayside. ‘You see, he cannot even begin to grasp the style,’ they’d say. She ignored them, always. And eventually, she molded me into the magnificent fighter you see before you.” Bang lifts his chin and flexes his powerful muscles.

Amane does his best not to linger too long on the bounce of his pectorals or the fluid shifting of his abs. Best not to get distracted. “Speaking of, I’d say you learned a lot more than how to fight.”

Bang blinks and then nods enthusiastically. “Of course! Master Tenjo was sure to bring me in on their other lessons, as well. I can file almost any paperwork, read any of the old texts, and even quote philosophers! And it was she who taught me my dance! It always brought a smile to her face to see me perform.” Bang’s face turns serious. “Nishiki… Would you be willing to… let me dance sometime?”

Amane blinks. Then he thinks for a moment. If Bang were to be on stage, perhaps Carl… Yes. Amane smiles exuberantly. He should have done this ages ago. He looks at Bang with fondness and cunning, and the bigger man shudders with emotion. “Alright, but I warn you, practice won’t be easy. Sounds like I’m a bit stricter than what you’re used to.”

Bang smirks, eyes confidently narrowing to answer the unspoken challenge. “Oh? I suppose we shall see for ourselves. Why don’t we go join your troupe and see what you’re made of?” Bang rises from his seat eagerly and strides over to the door.

If Amane watches him leave a little more intently than he should, well, there aren’t any witnesses, so it’s fine. He too gracefully rises and strides past Bang into the hall once the door is open. “Hmph, we’ll see alright, Shishigami.”

That night, loud cries of effort and anguish that he’s not heard in years keep Kagura awake.

The next morning, Hibiki sternly tells Amane that his troupe knew better than to park their stage so close to his rooms.

Amane merely shrugs with a knowing smile.

Bang cannot shift his sore muscles to even speak, and once he mercifully dozes off, strict commanding voices and demanding soft hands haunt his dreams.

[illyrian-lover-flower]

Day 3:  Spies at work

Thank you so much @elrielmonth​ for planning this wonderful event and all the lovely prompts😊😘

The secrets shadows share

word count: ~4 k

It was the quietest as it had been in months. No laughter or agitated chatting breezed through the air or through the river estate, as merely the wind sang today. Bringing the sweet seer a lullaby of pure peace as her lithe hands kneaded the weed out of the earth in front of her, as if it were a loath of delicious bread, about to unfold its true flavour in the hot depths of a spacious oven, which graced the kitchen. 

Though, of course, would she never bake the earth -she was no little child of the age of six anymore- but this earth she tended to would be the oven for hundreds and hundreds of flower seeds. Nurturing them among the mushy grounds until their heads peaked through the layer of mud, eager to feel the shining light of the sun on their petals.

And the flowers were not the only ones craving the touch of sunlight, as the caressing warmth was her only distraction at the moment, of the things which reeled through her head and loved to remember her of what this day might bring.

The twins had asked her to gather some information’s regarding the clipping of Illyrian females at an Illyrian camp, which rested at the feet of the first mountain in the Illyrian Mountains, their latest observations had stated that the number of clippings had increased rapidly -the High Lords law, a mere bump in the road as they overstepped it almost on a daily base. But even if the twins knew of that, they did yet have not gathered much information’s to prove their research and spying. And as all the preparations for Nesta’s Birthday were keeping them busy, Elain was their last card as Azriel himself was away on a mission – this was at least the thought everyone harboured, as there was nothing heard of him for the past two weeks.

The three spies, well two and one in training, had considered the option of telling Rhysand, but as they saw how busy he seemed, building up the structure from his court at the very pit of the beginning while he also tried to be there for is son and wife, who herself had much on her plate to do, made them believe it was better to keep those two out of option. And even if they would have considered it further to tell Rhys and Feyre of their findings, all it would have done would have been, to invoke a duel of blood and war as the Illyrians did not see any further reason to trust their High Lord, when he in return did not offer the same.

And so, sweet Elain would be the one to go, scurrying around the camps as if she were a slave of one of the higher rated Illyrians, while her pointed ears would gather information’s she would whisper and her hands circumstantial evidence she would slip over to the twins once she was done.

It was all just that. Tried Elain to calm her straining nervous as her hands roamed the earth farther and farther, no crumb, as little as it was, untouched by her naked fingers as the coldness caressed her fingertips. She would only gather some information, stay till tomorrow at the camp and then go home again, with, hopefully, some useful information – that was it, so she hoped as dread had long settled into her guts heavy as a rock and screamed for her attention as it placed the scary thought, of what might happen if a clipping were to take place within these days, in her head.

Elain breathed in and out through her nose, as she tried to calm herself further with the musty scent of the wet earth and as she felt, with the slip of time, the sweet kiss of sunlight caressing her skin for a final goodbye, she knew it was time. A final deep breath, that was all she took as she let the chilled air of night fill her lungs, and smeared the earth, that clung to her fingertips, all over her face.

The mushy soil on her face, the first element of her costume she would wear, as she winnowed, with a slight tremble of her body, away into the slowly darker painted room she inhabited at the river estate.

It had taken her a long time to learn this, but the twins had never given up on her, always helping -and motivating- her in their own way, as they hid some ancient recipes, she wanted to try out, from Elain at the place she should winnow to. And it helped, motivated her in a way she had not thought as possible, as she had learned to walk through the folds of this world, like a needle through fabric, at the beginning of the second month they trained with each other. Dark nights and a veil of stars their only witnesses of this training for the past five months, as the moon illuminated Elain’s room with noisy, ghostly hues of silver, which slipped past the billowing sheet of her curtains as the twins were most often there to teach her the ways of the shadow world.

And today, tonight, would be the day she would prove to the two wraiths, with a heart of pure gold, that she did take each and every of their lessons serious as she slipped out of the green gown, of flowing chiffon and let it pool to her feet. A hill, small and delicate forming to her bottom, as the lower seems were stained in the brown of the earth and softly weaved itself higher to the fabric until only the clean green was left. It was a picture of life, one her sisters would have not understood, as they would have merely seen a gown, stained in streaks of dirt, but compared to the rags which she slipped on now, it looked like a piece of pure gold. Even the dress she had worn, back in the little hut , which she could still hear crying after its inhabitants, in her little village, came closer to a gown than the rag she wore now.

Brown, grey and even greenish tatters of fabric were scantily sewn together as they formed the dress, which hang loosely down her body and barely reached those creamy calves of hers as not even a belt hung around her middle. The twins had told her, that if she were to play a slave, she could not have such extravagances, as the long sleeves of her dress were already something most slaves did not have the luxury to wear. So, this sag had to do, along with the head rag she placed carefully over the bronze mass of her hair.

Though it had not taken five minutes for one of the twins, Nuala, to arrive, in a stiffer stance than usual, and decide to do any further adjustments on the seers costume, which mostly related to a small dark dagger which the wraith hid away in the hem of her underwear. “Just in case.” Murmured the twin at her, as she gave the hiding spot of the dagger a little pat to make sure the blade was properly adjusted.

Elain merely offered her beloved friend a fragile smile with a hug as sweet and warm as the sunrise, trying to ease the tension in her, in shadow befogged, shoulders; “I’ll be fine Nuala, don’t worry.�� Was all the seer could say in order to prevent the nerves of her friend from snapping, as those cold hands of hers settled around her delicate hips “My sister and I wish you a lot of luck, little fawn, yet luck alone won’t bring you home safely, so please take care of yourself. Avoid any danger you can.”

“I will.” Guaranteed Elain her companion with silent words as they got carried away by the veil of shadows. And before the seer knew it, did she stand at the dark rim of a forest, close to the entrance of the camp, all by herself as the howling wind already tried to pinch her flesh in cold gusts, making her move towards the width of the camp in the hopes of some warmth.

It was mere steps she had to take in order to move inside, yet it were painfully awkward strides as the mushy earth beneath her already seeped through the thin shoe sole of the boots, which were chosen for her. But she couldn’t care, couldn’t complain as all she had in mind was to help the females which needed it most, as her heart was well aware of the bewildering song the wind sung already dozens of times into her ear, whenever she flew with Azriel, which had sadly stopped after the fateful solstice, mere ten months ago. But again, she could not complain about this heart wrenchingly deep pain she felt, could not even think about this, as her ears were to pick up some useful information.

Though as for right now, all she heard was the billowing laugh of males gathered around a giant, cackling, bone fire. Clanking their overfilled mugs together over a good old warriors’ tale one of the males told with great passion, as he showed and demonstrated on the chilly evening air how he had, already hundreds of times, broken the neck of his opponents, in a twisting motion, as if he merely opened a bottle of wine. Elain’s guts twisted at the mere thought of ever witnessing such violence, while the males gathered around the bulky warrior cheered and clapped in adoration of the great tasks he had fulfilled with this single motion, while others eagerly added their own tales and bathed in the adoration and attention their own tasks of violence granted them.

It was a sickening topic to discuss and showed just how much heart these people had here, thought Elain as she scurried between the warriors silently around the bone fire, carrying a mug of heavy ceramic in her own freezing hands as she bowed her head to each warrior and filled the beakers of those which wished for a refill. A mere lift of their massive arm, in which they held their beer, all they had to do to set the steps of the dirty slave, which Elain played, hurrying over the muddy grounds.

“Hey! You have a face?” lulled one of the warriors at her long after the delicate scythe of the moon had taken its residence in the cloak of black velvet. Elain merely ducked her head as the warrior stumbled over his own feet towards her and pressed his filthy fingers below her delicate chin, to make her look at him; “Oh you have. And what a pretty one even.” It was in that moment that she knew how those warriors could commit such acts of bloodshed, as she saw the filthy lust and pure desire burn, as high as the bone fire, behind the males’ green eyes as he merely saw a piece of meat he would devour tonight. The seer had to bite back her scowl, while her gaze, innocent and submissively, lowered itself to the ground again, pleasing the male in front of her as he merely swung and arm around her shoulder and moved her forward to mother knows where.

Her nerves were at edge as he stumbled one drunken step and another one forward, weighing her delicate shoulder with his massive form as he seemed to use the seer more than a walking stick instead of a sweet companion he wanted to coax into his bed and be a lovely toy of great service to him. But who was she to complain? Elain herself merely wondered how many steps the Illyrian could continue taking, until the alcohol, which she had poured him, slowly started to completely take over his and let him forget everything.

However, it had not taken long before those questioned thoughts became reality, a small root – seemingly delicate, yet osseus- peaked out of the ground and let those booted feet trip over the little bow it formed. A yelp of surprise was all that left the males mouth as he fell – and stayed there. Resting, snoring like an infant, on his stomach on the earth.

Elain could do nothing to hide that smirk on her thin lips. Looks like as if fourteen beakers of wine, mixed with beer, were enough to send an overgrown bat, like Nesta loved to mock Cassian, high into the clouds and rest for a good old nap. Which gave Elain time and freedom to scry for what she needed.

It hadn’t taken no more than five minutes for the clever seer to find the tent she was searching for. Glooming, covered in a blanket of beige, did it stand under the moonlight and practically beckoned her to come closer as those heavy curtains billowed in the freezing wind.

There was no hesitance in Elains silent steps as she slipped into the waiting gorge of the specious tent. All sorts of hidden gems -papers, maps, lists which harboured the names of the next females who would lose their wings-  ready to be discovered by the gentle flower grower, who had merely watched out this evening to find a male stupid enough to not know his limits while he would hopefully lead her deeper into the camp.

A thing of secret, loving beauty at his arm as no one would suspect a thing while she silently noted and judged every step which was taken on these grounds. Something the twins had been drilling into her as they claimed that Azriel himself had punctured this into their very skulls.

Azriel, her heart jumped and leaped in joy as she finally allowed the name of this lovely male back in her mind, as she had not let that happen ever since this fateful solstice. This sweet name, those lovely memories, all tainted by a mere string of whispered words which brawled their way into the very core of her body It was a mistake.

Her lithe hands flinched away from the stack of papers she scurried through, as her heart was stabbed with the force of a daggers blade, bleeding silently out inside her chest while she read through paper after paper. A distraction which carried her too far under as those pointed ears of hers did not here the steps of heavy boots trotting through the mud closer and closer to the tent; “Is she captured?” “No not yet sir.”

Elain’s heartbeat ran a hundred miles as she heard those voices louder and louder, their shadows already stretching below the little slit which led to the outside, while the seer could merely panic. Looking around and onto each and every surface she could hid behind or under, but all that she could chose were the desks on which her noisy fingers just rummaged through pile and pile of paper. The only problem was that, even if they were of a size even Rhys and Feyre would envy but was the chosen space for the chair all open. No piece of wood would hide her away and as she already braced herself to winnow did the shadow at the tents entrance rise and rise.

A solid form of night stepping out of the pool of flitting shadows with graceful steps, while those piercing eyes of his skimmed over the room ever the briefest, landing once and for all on her.

There was a taut string between them as both stared into each other’s faces for the longest of time, which they could allow themselves, before Azriel turned his head away to look behind his massive shoulders. A flicker of a question, as bright as all seven of his siphons, danced for a second in his eyes, just like the shadows around those wonderous wings of his, but the moment was broken as soon as she heard those booming voices again.

Elain had known something like that would happen, had felt it creep up to her in her dreams just before she woke, but she did not stray from her path. Did not let anything bad happen if she could prevent it and if her own fate was on the line – she could handle it. Hundreds of fae and human alike had put their life in danger, it was time to repay them.

But before she could steel her spine and look with the greatest of disgust into the face of he two males which would bring her death, did Azriel take two long strides, swept her up in his strong arms and whisked them away into the realm of shadows only to hide in the darkness behind the massive desk.

And apparently did they work just on time as those two males entered the specious room filled of cards and secrets.

It was weird seeing them, a veil of black dust seemingly hiding those two males as if they were a bride who just anticipated the touch of their beloved groom to lift that layer of fabric between them. Elain wondered if it would feel just the same, touching the shadows as if they were a layer of chiffon, but Azriel held her back as she stretched out those pale fingers. His marred flesh caressing hers as his hand clutched tightly around her wrist; “Don’t.” whispered his ravenous voice against the shell of her ear. This strong body of his still pressed against her, fitting this delicate frame of Elains body as if he was a missing puzzle piece finally locking into the right spot, while those two males kept on talking. Exchanging names of the females which were soon to be clipped and the date on which this crippling would take place, all information Elain had already copied onto a piece of paper.

Both fae stiffened, ready to strike, as the two Illyrians kept on talking and talking about the pleasure the humiliation of the females would bring to them, while Elain and Azriel held onto each other for dear life, as the other one with them in the shadows was their lifeline, preventing each other from committing something neither could really clarify, as this was merely an undercover mission neither the High Lord nor the High Lady knew about.

It were these strained moments between her and the shadowsinger, which made her throat log and her heart pound as loud as a war drum against her chest, but apparently was Elain not the only one with strained nerves; “What are you doing here?” pressed the shadowsinger out, the intense stare of his hazel eyes never leaving the wavering form of the males.

The seer knew that no matter if day or night, tired or woken, Azriel would always know to part a lie from the truth and so she had no use to do something as cruel as lying “Spying.” “Who thought you this?”

“A friend.” Exclaimed Elain after a pause in which she wrecked her brain on how to not call her two teachers by name, but as a little shadow had wrapped around her index finger, as soft as a cattail, did she know what her answer was. And apparently was this not a lie, as she was friends with Nuala and Cerridwen, the shadows and even Azriel, so she hoped as he did not seem to want anything else from her. Yet did his arms close further around her middle as his mighty voice growled lowly through the darkness “I figured that.”

The seer had to giggle at the unease edge in his voice, the all knowing shadowsinger for once unaware of a secret as lovely as a rose. Sweet and delicate far above of the surface, whilst her body was spiked in thorns, pricking the fingers of those who were rough and harsh on her, ripping and tearing at her roots, while her leaves and blooms caressed the ones who were gentle with her, sweet and caring.  Everything the shadowsinger had once been to her.

She hadn’t even known how much she craved his presence as she was cradled into his arms once again – united with a piece of herself she hadn’t even known she was missing. But sadly, did this missing piece see her as a mistake.

Elain flinched once again at the memory of those cruel words ringing through her mind, the shadows around her rising as if they were a fountain invoked by her emotions, but Azriel’s grip on her was unfaltering, a presence of a rock in the tides as Elain whispered at him: “How long do you want to keep starring at those two?”

“Until I can see that they are leaving.” “They won’t.” “Then so do we.” The seer sighed at her stubborn friend, as the warmth of his body seeping into hers was all which held her back from going for his neck right now. “Azriel. They will discuss, for the next two hours, who of them had clipped a pair of wings the best.” The shadowsinger shuddered in her arms, if it were due to the use of his name on her tongue or the fact that these males would pride themselves with bloodshed for so long was beyond her. “You have seen it?” Elain could merely nod now, her voice clogged and caged in her throat as a scent, of sweet night chilled mist and cedar, caressed her nose with the motion.

“I need those information’s.” Was all he answered stubbornly with his jaw set as a stone, while his sweet friend shook with her head “I have them already.”

Surprise lined those godly crafted features of his as he gazed down on her. The seer offered him a charming smile, before she handed him the notes, covered in her scribbled letters, with everything she deemed as important, which was in her case everything because despite her training she was still not entirely sure of how to filter the right information from unnecessary gibberish and so she copied everything, which offered her the opportunity to see the shadowsinger bowing his head every the slightest in respect for her. “For whom are you here, Elain?”

Bracing herself with a smile as sweet as honey, as those piercing orbs of brown with swirling green and grey streaks glanced at her. “A friend and you?” This sweet smile, as little and innocent as a daisy, he offered her was a picture of pure delight while he did not let his fingers stray from her hips. Almost searing a hole through her heart and clothes as his raven voice echoed through the whispering storms of shadows “For myself.”

Elain smiled then, “Well then, Spymaster, had I helped you out well?” And as if her smile were a virus did it spread on to the sweetest pair of lips, the one pair of lips she had always wondered how they would taste on hers. Both having forgotten since a long time where they were. “Very. I might consider handing some of my work over to you.”  

Both of them giggled then, as they stood safely and secure amidst the dark sea of shadows, like two rays of sunshine, competing for who shone brighter, as Azriel let the shadows whisk them away. An inferno spreading as those calm waves of darkness washed over them, whisking them far away to a secure place, while Azriels lips lingered on the seer’s sweet forehead.

A thing of secret,lovely beauty blooming already between them, as not even the lurking clouds of hundreds and hundreds of unspoken words could make the thriving blooms between the seer and the shadowsinger welk, as there was furthermore no more missions which either one acted on alone. 

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Taglist (If I forgot someone or anyone wants to be added, just message me):

@gracie-rosee

@heirofthrnightcourt004

@galenamineralsbismuth

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter One

ANON: Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway. [John Wayne]

Since the beginning of lockdown here in the UK, I’ve been making little notes here and there and I’ve finally put something together that is hopefully interesting. It’s set from the start of our isolation back on Friday 20th March and will work its way forwards in time <3 enjoy! Mod MBD.

-- --- --

The Daily Briefing:

She left under the cover of darkness, the atmospheric sheet rain appearing out of nowhere to conceal her as she hid the doorway of a boarded up shop. The ‘closed’ signs that littered the windows of each and every shop on the highstreet illuminated as the lights flickered on, the daylight fading as night enveloped the south of England. It should have been a regular Friday evening, but it wasn’t. And despite the shock of the rest of the nation, she was more than happy for the lockdown to take immediate effect.

A couple of the pubs were still open, the last of their punters being ushered out by groups of policemen and women as the 9pm curfew approached, and though there was still some footfall through the small village, it wasn’t enough to worry her greatly.

She remembered reading YA fiction that started in a similar way and the idea that the whole population might be reduced to some dystopian teen nightmare seemed more than plausible. But at least she’d be far away from society by the time it did. Wondering whether Suzanne Collins and Veronica Roth were somewhere together, raising a glass to their literary insight into such things, she pulled her jacket tighter around her neck to stop the droplets of water running down her chest.

The honk of a horn brought her out of her thoughts as she grabbed her meagre belongings and hid her face from the rain. Getting herself settled in the back of the blacked out van, there was a part of her that scoffed at the idea of danger lurking within as the plain-clothed officers escorting her smiled softly, passing her a towel to wipe the stray drips of moisture from her face. As a child she had, of course, been warned about strangers in vehicles. Now though there were more monsters lurking in her own home than there were anywhere else in the country.

“You might want to get some sleep, if you can, miss.” One of the younger officers said, breaking the silence even with his moderately quiet statement. “It’s a long drive, we’re aiming for eight hours if we can, but it will all depend on the roads.”

Nodding, she pulled a woolen blanket from one of her bags, removed her coat and curled herself against the window. Though she thought sleep impossible, she did manage to doze a little as the car made its way towards the motorway. Her mind went blank as they sped up, she’d spent weeks agonising over this choice, the solid notion of it taking root in her subconscious as the country seemed to spin towards chaos and confusion.

The virus, however, had not been her primary concern. Only her mental and physical survival had taken precedent. It was the prime minister's announcement yesterday that schools and pubs would close the following week that spurred her onwards, and she’d (rather rapidly) responded to the offer she had been levelled with.

If she wanted to disappear, now was her chance.

“John wants you to know that he’s processed the documents you’re going to need and included a shielding letter with that. This should take you until the end of June as well as the furlough payments. He also says you did the right thing.”

Making incomplete thumps against her chest, her heart stopped for a moment as the police officer spoke. She’d been warring with herself for weeks, uncertain of the best course of action. She had, of course, lived with the increasing threat for years before it had finally erupted. John had seen the outcome and had begged her to reconsider his previous offer of assistance having watched her descend into a less than perfect relationship. But she had been convinced that she’d be able to manage.

She hadn’t. An obvious change had taken hold of her husband. He wasn’t the man she married, not by a long shot, and as 2019 came to a close, so did any of his positive attributes. He was a professor, a professional man with many books to his name and he refused to believe his actions had become that of a less than ideal partner.

The first stay in hospital, however, stated otherwise.

“Will I be able to speak to him?”

The officer shook his head sadly. “No, if this is to work, you have to sever all contact with anyone you previously knew, even John. Anything that puts you at risk or could enlighten the wrong people into knowing your whereabouts would jeopardize all of the work we’ve all put in to assure your safety.”

Having had the mood suitably dulled, she lay her head against the window and let several hundred miles pass her by.  

As they crossed the border around midnight, the rain finally began to ease and she smiled at the irony. She hadn’t spent much time in Scotland, but she knew it wasn’t famous for its notoriously glorious weather. Part of her was desperate for some coffee but the further they travelled up the country, the less likely it was that the service stations were 24 hours - nor did she think her drivers would be willing to stop until they’d reached their destination.

Once off the motorway and onto the single track roads that led them further into the highlands, she started to guess at where their final destination might be. When the proposition had first been offered to her, John had given her a number of options of a safe haven - one being a flight away (by that point he had started to take her safety quite seriously). As the grey scenery passed them by, a slight pinking of the sky signalling that dawn was close, she was trying to recall the names of the places he’d suggested though her mind was as much of a blur as the greenery whooshing by the back window.

“I don’t suppose you have anything caffeinated to drink?” She asked. 

Reaching forward, she took the unopened bottle of coke from one of her escorts and relaxed back into her seat.

“Not far away now. There aren't any toilets, though.”

Fatigue was running deep, she could tell by the tiredness in his voice as he spoke and she nodded as she took a sip. The warning was clear; drink it all quickly and there would be no stopping for a break. But she was too thirsty to worry too much.

“Can I ask where we’re going?”

“Just north-west of Inverness. It’s a farm so it’s as remote as they come. It’s single occupancy, the guy who lives there runs his family business. He’s an old contact of John’s, so although there is to be no contact between you, he trusts you’re in safe hands. All shopping is pre organised and will be delivered once every two weeks to ensure neither of you are put at risk leaving the property for supplies.”

“Should I leave the house at all?” At this point she couldn’t tell whether she was being sarcastic or not but there was an honesty to her question that made the officers answer her quickly.

“No. You have your letter, not that there is anyone around to ask for it, but for the next 12 weeks you should remain inside at all times. No matter how far we take you away from civilization there is always the risk - even during a national pandemic and lockdown - of someone being around, seeing you and passing it on. Where we’re taking you, the owner hasn’t had another friend or family on the property for a number of years. Small communities talk so you should stay inside and out of the view of any members of the local village.”

“Noted.” Replying sadly, she replaced the cap on the half finished bottle of cola and ran her fingers along the inside of her leg. The scar there was still fresh, the heat of it making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She knew that if she wanted this to work, if she wanted to remain hidden, then she would have to obey the rules set.

They drove through Inverness just as 5am hit and the sun rose across the extensive lochs and mountains.

“It might seem far-fetched, the idea that you’ll be located, but we can’t take the risk. We did look through your file, though, and found a name we hope has some resonance to you.” *but nobody else* he thought, but did not say.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. Please pass that on to John, I didn’t even get the chance to tell him how grateful I am. For everything.” Her intrigue had been piqued about her new identity but once she knew who she was going to be for the next few weeks, it would all become real. Whilst they still hadn’t arrived, she could sit and pretend to be existing in an in between - half way between fantasy and reality.

As they pulled off one side-road and onto another her driver passed her an envelope. She could see a small smile lift the side of his mouth as an archway came into view in front of them. “Of course I will, Claire.”

“Claire?”

“Yes,” he returned, bringing his arm up and pointing his finger at the brown packet in her hands, “it’s all in there...the rest of it. Read it, keep the ID documentation and then burn anything you don’t need to use later.”

“Claire.” She whispered to herself.

And in one breath, as a rather large white brick farm house appeared beneath the now large ivy coated arch, Elizabeth Randall died and she instantly became Claire Beauchamp.

[chaletnz]

Tohoku Region: Nikko

I was up early again for no reason other than I wanted to get a coffee before leaving Sendai. The trip was planned out with all the train departure times listed so I had to squeeze in my coffee before leaving Sendai or I might not get one at all. For this coffee I went on an adventure out to the airport. All my JR train travel is essentially free over these 5 days so I've spent loads of time sitting on trains, although I did pay 120 yen for the bus ride into the station this time since I was carrying my luggage. The Flat White Coffee Factory had one cafe in the airport and it had been good yesterday so I wanted to have it again today. Unfortunately the airport cafe didn't have scones, or lamingtons so I settled for a blueberry muffin with my flat white. It had a little too much foam again, but it was a coffee in Japan at 7.30am that was not from a conbini so you can't be too picky! On the ride back to Sendai I was the only person on the train, I guess because no one was leaving the airport at that time - no flights had arrived yet as far as I could tell. I booked my shinkansen tickets and then rode down to Utsunomiya, which only took about 45 minutes! There was just enough time to put my bags into a storage locker for the day, get a photo of the famed gyoza sculpture and pick up some omiyage sweets for Tomoko and Yuki when I meet them on Sunday. Utsunomiya is known for strawberries, they have huge ones that can be 60 grams each! I tried to find single strawberries for sale as I know you can get them, but everything available at the station souvenir shops was just stuff that included strawberries as an ingredient such as jam and cakes. I found a pack of 2 cakes that was ideal for the Tomoko and Yuki but sadly there was no giant strawberry that I could buy for myself! With my bags in storage I took the local train all the way out to Nikko National Park. From the station I took a bus part way up the main road just to help me make the most of my few hours there as I had booked my shinkansen for about 2 hours later hoping to walk the town circuit in that time. I began by walking out of town to a large fast flowing river that had rows of statues wearing little red hats down the path alongside it. There was a waterfall and the abyss which I couldn't quite pinpoint. As I walked the circuit further I saw some missing person posters about a French woman last seen in 2018, I made a note to look up later if she had been found... (she is still missing as of September 2021). I crossed a suspension bridge to return to the main part of town and then headed towards the main temples in the area. Again, it became quickly apparent that I wouldn't have enough time to see everything and get the train as planned. Since I couldn't see myself returning to Nikko for quite a while I decided to just skip that ticket and carry on with my sightseeing. First was a red bridge on the corner of the main roads which overlooked the mountains, they charged a fee for walking on the bridge (although the other end was closed) so I could take photos of it with no one standing on it!

I then climbed a very steep street, luckily shielded by tall trees, to a large temple area where I visited Sanbutsu-do temple, Toshogu Gojunoto (the five storey pagoda), and Nikkozan Rinnoji temple among other tori gates and shrines.

It was a beautiful temple complex and I like to get a fortune at the beautiful ones! I drew out a small packet with a fortune as well as a lucky charm. My fortune was good, also telling me this time to be patient! After spending some time here people watching I started to slowly make my way down the main street back to the station. There were many interesting shops and eateries, all quite busy today as it's the Japanese silver week so everyone is having a break! I stopped first for a custard taiyaki, except instead of being fish-shaped it was monkey-shaped. I'm guessing this keeps to the theme of Nikko! I had seen a few signs about being aware of monkeys as they can sometimes be quite territorial and attack apparently. A few doors down I stopped again to buy a Nikko egg tart which I got wrapped in a bag to takeaway and eat later. I picked up a few postcards from a craft store too, and was extremely tempted by the Nikko pudding shop with a line down the street (if there's a line it must be amazing, right?!) but managed to resist. One more quick stop into the tourist information centre to see some displays and then I was ready to take the local train to Utsunomiya, pick up my bags and then battle for an unreserved seat on the shinkansen to Tokyo. One more change to a train bound for Yokohama's Chinatown then a short walk and I was checked in to Chillulu Hostel. I could finally collapse into bed after a quick walk around the quiet Chinatown and a gigantic Taiwanese fried chicken that was absolutely delicious! It was 550 yen and they deep fried it fresh for me - it was so good, although unnecessary... the last little piece ended up dripping grease all over my hands and I had no napkins to wipe it. Chinatown also seemed to be the only area without any public toilets! I even tried a 7/11 but nope, no toilet. They did have a pack of laundry detergent sachets so I grabbed that and headed back to the hostel to do my laundry and wash my hands. Of course the cashier asked me if I wanted a bag for my tiny box of laundry detergent sachets... like c'mon man!

Upon adding up the regular price of all the bullet trains I took during my 5 day Tohoku pass period (not including the extra cost of local trains) I got a whopping ¥66,750 worth of shinkansen rides! My ¥20,000 pass definitely ended up paying off!

[fandomsonrequests]

𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 3]

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: prince! park seonghwa

reader: fem! knight

word count: 2.8k+

summary:  It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

a/n: ahhhhh- i’m back after a while! how are all of you? i hope y’all are surviving through these inception stages. this chapter is once again unedited so if there are any errors or anything, i’m sorry ;^; please remember to drink water and rest well! <3 

taglist: @iwanttohitmyself​

↞previous  ♛ next↠

Your little family was silent on the way back to the smithy. Siyeon had parted ways from you as you all headed back, presumably to her family to talk about what was to happen. 

You felt your stomach churn with nervousness as your heart crept up your throat. You wanted to throw up with all the anxiousness you were feeling; it didn’t help that the frown never left your father’s face. You already knew what he was going to say when you arrived home. 

You fit the criteria given to become a delegate to train at the palace to hopefully become the prince’s protector. But even if that was so, you knew your father would move mountains to keep you from going and nothing was going to stop him. 

You bit your lip as the smithy neared. You kind of regret telling your father that you’d never leave him. That resolution had obviously changed when you learned of the reward that was to be given when you become the prince’s protector. God, sometimes you wished you knew what to say and when to say it. 

“No.” Your father says all of a sudden almost as if he read your mind. 

“But papa, you heard what the man said..!” You argue without missing a beat and throw your arm out to the side. “If I get to become the prince’s protector you can finally rest and we wouldn’t have to worry about where we’ll get the money for your medicines.” 

“That’s an ‘if,’” He argued in return and sat on his work stool. He looks up at you with a stern look on his eyes, hands on top of his cane. “It’s too dangerous..! You could get hurt in training. Or worse: what if the assassin comes back and decides to kill the trainees hm?”

“Papa that's ridiculous-”

“No, ____. I will not allow you to go.”

“The king required all able-bodied folks of my age to go. It’s literally law, papa.”

“What about what you said earlier? Didn’t you say that you’d never leave this place?” 

You sigh in exasperation and run a hand through your sweaty hair. “First of all, that was Christopher who said it-”

“Oi, don’t drag me into this,” Chris argues but the both of you ignore him. 

“You agreed to it-”

“Second of all- that was for the selection of a princess. This is a selection for a knight. Come on papa, please.” You begged and went up to your father. You got down on your knees and held onto his hand, gripping it with desperation in your eyes. “I promised you I’d give you a good life when I’m older. This is it. This is a chance for me to give you a good life. If you’d just let me-”

“Let you what? Risk your life for some boy with a silver spoon in his mouth?” Your father countered and stood up. You scramble back onto your feet at the sudden outburst; even Christopher seemed surprised by this. “Anything could happen during training. Anything. Becoming a knight isn’t the same as blacksmithing.”

“But papa-”

“____, enough. This will be the end of the discussion. I don’t want to hear any of this nonsense anymore. I’ll think of something to keep you from going.”

“But papa-” 

“I SAID ENOUGH.” Your father said, voice booming and echoing off the walls of the smithy. 

You flinched at the loudness of his voice. Your father rarely raised his voice like this but when he did, you knew that you’ve crossed the line. It always scared you to see him this furious. Even your brother, who remained silent throughout the whole ordeal, kept his head down at his hands, lip caught between his teeth. 

You swallowed back your pride and turned away from your father. You felt your eyes sting with the threat of tears as you trudged back to your workplace, grabbing a hammer in the process. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry- you tell yourself as you get back to work, allowing the sound of metal clanging against metal to drown out the thoughts in your head. 

Your father on the other hand sighed as he slumped back against his workbench and turned back to the sheathe he was working on earlier. He spared another glance at your hunched figure, back towards him. He didn’t need to see your face to know that you were crying- he could tell by the way your strikes against the weapon you were working on turned sloppy. He sighed deeply through his nose and returned to his work- deep in thought. 

Your father knew how much you wanted him to retire and rest while you and your brother worked at the smithy. He understood your intentions but after he lost your mother, he couldn’t bear to lose you too. Maybe it was just his paternal instincts going into overdrive but with something like this- he couldn’t just let you go. 

~

As the sun starts to set, the voices out on the dirt roads lessen as the townsfolk close up shop and return to their homes. The solemn voices of the quarry-workers’ floated down the mountain as they trekked back to the village to rest their sore feet and arms. You hear their voices as you were greeting the last customers' goodbye. Realization suddenly dawns upon you. 

The quarry-workers of your age are big competitors to you. 

They worked from sunrise to sunset, hammering, and digging away at the quarry to harvest valuable stone such as limestone and marble. From the amount of work they did it was no doubt, they’d develop strong muscles and legs- perfect to carry them through whatever training that they were to go through at the palace. For a moment, you were disheartened. There was no way you’d be able to top that. But then you remember that you work just as hard as them- slaving away all day to craft the perfect weapon or the perfect scabbard to fit your customers’ liking. Besides, your mother would never approve of you putting down your hard work. 

They may be physically stronger but there are some things they don’t have that you do. She’d tell you. And the greatest thing about that is that your mother was usually right. 

But then these thoughts were practically useless. You didn’t have to worry about this too much; your father wouldn’t even allow you to go. 

“Oi, ____,” Your brother calls out to you, making you snap away from your thoughts. He shakes his head at you. “I’ve been calling your name about five times. What’s wrong?”

You wave off his concern. “Nothing just- just thinking.”

For a moment Christopher’s eyes flashed with concern. He blinks it away and gestures to the exit of the smithy. “Anyways, we’re heading home. Are you okay with closing up on your own?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. It’s not too much of a problem for me.” You try to give him a reassuring smile but your brother saw right through. 

He puts his hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Look, I know what you’re thinking... Papa he… he just wants to protect you. You remind him so much of mama it’s just hard for him to let you go.” 

“But I’m an adult now Christopher.” You argue but make no move to shrug off his hand. It was what kept you grounded right now. “He has to understand that I’m not that little girl anymore…” 

“I know but-” He struggles to find more words to say but sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat when none come to mind. “If I weren’t only a year older than cut-off age for the Selection you know I’d go and do this for both of you in a heartbeat..” He sighs. 

A rather sad silence settles over the two of you. It seemed like fate was against them. 

 “...hey, chin up. Maybe he’d change his mind. It seems far off but it’s not impossible.” Christopher says after a moment and uses his other hand to tap your chin. 

A quiet chuckle falls past your lips. You sigh and give a tap to his arm before pulling away. “You better make dinner this time when you get home.” 

Christopher laughs and moves to help your father back home, saying something along the lines of “yeah, yeah I will.” 

As the two men pass by, you turn away to avoid meeting your father’s gaze. You’ve calmed down from your argument earlier but you were afraid that you may something stupid that could further ruin your chance of ever going to the Selection. You pretend to busy yourself with fixing up your workbench, making your father sigh sadly. 

Once the two were out of the smithy, you let out a deep sigh of your own. You tuck away the stray hair that fell to your face as you looked around the place and contemplated the situation at hand. Maybe Christopher was right. Maybe your father could change his mind later, maybe with a little more convincing, he’d let you go. 

~

Dinner went by quietly that night. The air was still thick from the unresolved argument from earlier now that you and your father were sat across each other on the table and your poor brother was caught between it. You appreciated Christopher’s efforts in producing a laugh from one of you or making conversation about other topics rather than what happened that day but those didn’t last very long. 

You poked at the hard, dry meat on your plate as you contemplated about trying to give one last go in convincing your father to allow you to join the Selection. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you open your mouth to speak. “So papa… have you thought about any excuse to keep me from going..?” You start. There was silence on his end. “Because if not, I could still go.”

“____…”

“Plus it wouldn’t be fair to the others right..? Isn’t that unjust to the other townsfolk that their children have to go while I stay here?”

Your father doesn’t say anything again which prompts you to look over at your brother. He just stared at you, giving you a look that read “what am I supposed to do?” You frown at him, kicking his foot under the table. 

Come on Chris, back me up here. 

“Y’know papa, ____ has a point there.” He says. “I don’t think a lot of people would be pleased to learn that you kept here while their kids go off to the Selection.” 

“See? Like.. like Magda. What would she say if half of her sons went out to join the Selection but learned that I’m still here?” 

Your father sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day and threw his fork onto the plate in front of him. He was tired of having this conversation. It was plaguing his thoughts and weighed down on his shoulders. Hell, it almost felt too real with the way his neck and head were aching right now. 

The tension grows thicker when no one speaks up. Only the faint sounds of the firewood crackling and popping were heard. It was suffocating. 

You took your father’s silence as a no and allowed your resolve to finally crumble. At least you tried. 

“...I’m done with dinner.” You say quietly and stand to collect your empty plate to wash for later. You place the dinnerware in the wash bin and head quickly head over to your room to prepare for bed. 

“Anything else you’d like to add?” Your father says, resting his chin on his palm as he looked over to your brother. 

Christopher straightened up and took a breath to answer. “I think she should go, papa. I doubt any life-threatening harm would come to her. Besides, it’s not like they’ll keep her there forever. If the others outdo her she can come home.” He reached out to hold the older man’s hand and squeezed it. “____ is not a little girl anymore, papa. She just wants the best for you.” 

The man, deep down, knew his son was right. He couldn’t keep you under his wing forever. It was just like that old saying- one day the fledgling is going to leave the nest. Suppose it made sense, you wouldn’t really learn much of real-life if he continued to coddle you the way he did. 

His weary gaze flickered over to the fire, letting the flames calm him down. He closed his eyes and prayed to whatever god that was out there that he didn’t make the wrong decision; he just hoped he wouldn’t regret it later on. 

“I’m done with my dinner. Go clean up, I’ll talk to your sister.” He says and stands with a grunt, cane clicking against the wooden floor as he limped his way over to your room. 

Christopher smiled softly when your father left the room. “You better kill it out there, ____.” He whispers under his breath and cleans the table.

~

You were sat on your bed, dressed down to your sleeping gown, hair let down from the updo you had put it in earlier. You wince as the course brush you had ran into the tangles of your hair, cursing under your breath as you tried your best to brush it out. You sigh as you set the brush down onto your bedside table. You were still pretty much bummed out from earlier- who wouldn’t be? You’ve tried so many times to convince your father that day but were continually shot down. 

A knock on your door pulled you away from your thoughts. You knew it wasn’t Chris since it was his room as well so he wouldn’t need to knock. You stood up and padded over to the door to open it, revealing your father behind it. 

“____,” He says quietly and peered inside. “May I come in?” 

You say nothing but step aside to let him in. You closed the door behind you and helped him over to your bed. “Is there something you want to tell me, papa?” You asked quietly and sat beside him. 

He looked over to you, the faint light from your candle illuminating the room just enough so that he could look over you clearly. He says nothing at first and cups your cheek, thumb running over your cheek. The metal of his wedding ring around his finger was cool against your skin. 

“I just wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier,” He finally says. You open your mouth to apologize for your actions but he hushed you gently. “You’re right, ____. It wouldn’t be fair to everyone else in this town if I keep you here… It wouldn’t be fair to you either.”

Your brows furrow together in confusion. Your father only chuckled at your reaction, his hand falling from your cheek over to yours. 

“I can’t keep you here forever, my flower,” He continues, looking over to your hand in his. The memory of your much smaller, delicate hands in his feels more like a distant memory now that he realizes how much you’ve grown. “I realize that now…”

“Papa, are you-”

“I’m telling you you can go join the others for the Selection.” He concludes, eyes glassy when he looks back up at you. “Do your best, my flower.” He says with a sad but proud smile. 

Your shoulders sag with relief at this, joy filling your chest at the sudden yet pleasant turn of events. You let out a giggle of excitement and moved to hug your father, pulling him close to you. He buried his head into your hair, holding you tight as if you could disappear any moment. 

The feeling of something wet against your shoulder makes you pull away and you see your father crying. Your heart breaks at this and in turn, you could feel your tears welling up. “Oh papa, please don’t cry.” You tell him, a wobbly smile on your lips. You move your hands to wipe away his tears. “You’re making me cry.” 

He laughs at this and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, ____. I can’t help it; you’re growing up too fast for me.” 

“I know I said I’m not a little girl anymore but, you know I’ll always be in your heart.” You say in an effort to try and get him to cheer up. And somehow it worked because he snorted in amusement at that. 

Your father leaned up to kiss your forehead, both hands cupping your cheeks this time. He takes in how you look because he knows that this tender moment will end soon- and this will be the last time he’d see your face in a while. “No matter what happens, just remember that I’m always proud of you, my flower.” 

[seriouslyhooked]

When We Collide (Part 5)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everybody! First and foremost, just want to thank those of you still on this journey with me. My motivation to write has been so much lower than I thought it would be, but I haven’t lost sight of what I want from this fic and I am happy to finally share a new installment. This chapter brings a last burst of road trip fluff and the build up to a big moment  – Emma’s introduction to Killian’s life in the MC. It’s going to be fun to explore these dynamics in the next few chapters, but for now I hope you will enjoy, and I can’t wait to see what you all think. Thanks so much for reading!

In the quiet, tranquil calm of a woodland morning, Killian watched the cabin bedroom fill with sunlight, bringing the softest golden glow to the rustic room where he and Emma had spent the night. Birds chirped to greet the new day’s light, and the gentle breeze among these mountains brushed branches from a nearby oak against the windowpane. The whistle of the wind and the gentle swish of leaves on glass melded together into something deeply familiar, a symphony of sound, the song of sunrise.

Sadly, this song was the last of its kind that Emma and Killian would enjoy on this journey. The final portion of their cross-country trek would come today, and when they arrived back home, a new reality would set in. Things would change drastically, Killian would have to reengage with a life he’d long ago left behind, yet despite the challenges that awaited him, Killian was astounded at the peace he could feel in this moment. Holding Emma as she still lay sleeping, he was filled with contentment, choosing to anchor himself to something that would be forever constant: his love for this incredible woman.

“You’re doing it again,” Emma murmured, stirring from sleep and already entirely aware of him before she’d so much as opened her eyes.

Killian let the sultry sound of her sleep-laced voice wash over him. It sent a similar sensation coursing through him as the soft brush of her fingertips over his chest. Strumming an unknown melody, her hands on his skin lit him up inside, and though he’d just taken her a few hours ago, he was already ready to devour her again. Strewn out like this, in the glow of early morning, Emma was a vision with gold hair and sun kissed skin. She was stunning, and through the grace of God and all good things, she was miraculously his. The thought of that gave him great comfort and his own hold on her tightened ever so slightly. In truth, he was so distracted he nearly forgot to answer her sassy statement, but the smile that appeared at her lips as her green eyes opened for the day demanded that he ask for more.

“Doing what, love?”

“You’re loving me so much that I simply can’t sleep through it.”

Another man would deny such a cheesy proclamation, or deflect from the depth of his feelings, but not Killian. No, his Swan had called him to the floor, and she was right. He was up this morning thinking only of his love for her, and while other thoughts may threaten to encroach on their time together, he had pushed them all aside. She was the best way to stay grounded and centered, and he was selfish, needing to soak up every last drop of their moments together just to keep his peace of mind.

“I’d offer some condolences, Emma, but I think we both know how you feel about my loving you.”

He murmured the words against her skin, taking advantage of her lingering drowsiness to pepper kisses on her lips, her jaw, and then the hollow of her neck. He hummed out a sound of sheer delight when he felt her shiver beneath him, and when she let out that perfect moan of hers, the one that was part gasp and part plea for more, he was lost. All conversation was behind him, and he knew the only thing left was to show her how much he loved her. Luckily for Killian, nothing had ever come so naturally.

The choice he must make this morning was between a fast and hard claiming, or a slow, steady savoring of two souls becoming one. The payoff for either was bound for greatness, but Killian was keenly aware of how everything would soon be different. Once they arrived back with his brothers, the solitude they’d cultivated would be encroached on, and though Killian had his own house, which could provide ample space and privacy, he also had a sneaking suspicion that his brother and fellow club members would be highly invested in him and his woman. After weeks of it being just the two of them, Killian knew he’d have to share Emma’s attentions, and that he too would have to interact with people other than his Swan. It would all be good in the end, but he wanted to make the most of these last truly secluded moments that they had together.

The teasing slowness of his ministrations became a torturous affair not just for Emma, but for him as well. He began by tasting her everywhere, tracing every line and curve of her, with extra attention paid to the places that made her blood sing. He hung on every breath she released, and every charged call of his name that whispered past her lips. When she came apart from his touch alone, his sense of pride surged dramatically, but the most beautiful sight was when she relaxed back into that post-climax moment, gazing at him with love in her eyes and nothing but a soul-deep contentment in her heart. It made a man feel worthy to know he had put that look on his woman’s face, and for Killian it was the closest he would ever feel to absolution. He’d done wrong in this life, made choices that veered well off the path of what was good or moral, but somehow, she still loved him, and Killian was better for that love.

By the time she was ready to be taken, Killian was so riled, his senses were frayed in all directions. Knowing that he was already worked up, Emma decided to push him further, murmuring that she loved him and asking him to make her his. The searing heat of his need for her was constant, but the feeling when he thrust inside and claimed her was the most agonizingly incredible feeling in the world. Nothing should feel this right, or this perfect, but with Emma it always did. Their rhythm was synced to perfection, their love palpable in the air around them, and though Killian did his best to savor every bit of it he could, it always felt like it was over far too soon. All it took was Emma arching her back, crying out in ecstasy, giving over to bliss, and he was right there with her, spent but saved and feeling like despite the uneasiness of this next moment, he and Emma could handle anything.

“Whatever happens today, it won’t change anything,” Emma said, her fingers running through his hair that was growing longer than he normally allowed it. She pushed it out of his face, before looking into his eyes and smiling in a way that melted his heart. “I love you, and I always will.”

“It’s the same for me, love, but rest assured, if you feel even the slightest discomfort, we will move on. We’re bound to nothing but each other.”

“Killian, this is your home -,” she began. He quieted her thought with a kiss before clarifying the truth to her.

“You are my home, Emma. Wherever you wish to be is where we will be, and I will be the happiest man alive just for being by your side.”

Emma readily accepted this promise from him, whispering that she felt the same as they continued to laze for a while more together, enjoying their connection and soaking in this last bit of privacy. Eventually, they had to get up and check out from this retreat, and they moved through the morning with a practiced precision of two people who had done this for weeks. Travelling had become second nature to them both, and the six-hour ride standing between them and his brothers would be easily managed.

For Killian, the journey honestly felt too short, though he made sure to stop and keep a steady pace for Emma’s sake. He knew she had never been to California before, and there was something magical about this place compared with every other. It was easily the most beautiful of the terrain they’d been in for weeks as well, and in Big Sur specifically, there was a natural beauty totally unique to this corner of the world. Giant forests rose impossibly high into the sky, a cross between the woods of the pacific northwest and the jungles of South America. Trees stood so tall the tops could not be seen, and even in patches where fires had blazed in seasons past, life prevailed, with green vegetation growing from ash and soot and dust. When they reached the ocean, Killian felt Emma’s hold on him tighten, an indicator of her excitement, but he still drove quite a few miles down the cliff-lined coastal highway before pulling off to stop.

“Now this is the kind of view I could get used to,” Emma murmured as he helped her off the bike, taking in the secluded patch of beach they’d driven towards where not a soul was nearby. With her hand in his, Killian immediately felt stronger, but the look on Emma’s face prompted a gentle, pleasant aching in his heart. She was happy to be here, in awe of this place, and to Killian that meant everything.

“We’re closing in on our destination now, love. We’ll be back well within the hour if we drive straight through, but there’s something I would very much like to show you, if you’re interested.”

“Lead the way, Captain.”

He led her down the pebbled path to the seaside, torn between watching her reactions and actually navigating their course. The best part of this was that Emma had no idea what was coming. They’d approached from the perfect angle, preserving a truly hidden gem from sight. Only when they rounded the corner would she see it, and as they made their move, he heard her gasp and felt her hand squeeze his tightly.

“Oh my God… I don’t even have words for how beautiful this is.”

Killian completely understood the feeling, though his own sensation of being struck speechless by something truly stunning often came directly from Emma. In this case, the beauty in question was an old, yet faithfully enduring shore house. It was painted white, weathered from storms, but still well-kept and largely preserved against the passage of time. The nearby community saw to it, since the owners of the home had long since gone. This shoreline was all public lands now, but the house remained, a testament to the man who once lived there, a gifted artist, and a natural born storyteller.

The remnants of his decades old art were painted, drawn, and constructed into the very foundation of this home and the mediums of expression were all treasures from the sea. Sea glass especially was plentiful here, drawing dizzying swirls of color along the house, the wood working and more. The glass had been cemented there for decades, but it shone with the same fervor and sparkle as ever. Shells of all shades, some whole and some not, were also used. Iridescent golden hued pieces, hewn from the mix of cold ocean water and warmer kelp garden pools were the stars of the show. They were each a small treasure uniquely found along these rocky coasts, often collected by the sea otters who called this sea shore home. This collection of the rare shells was astounding, and made all the more beautiful by being mixed in with others that were delicate shades of white and ivory and some that were a cooler oyster blue. They hung from wind chimes in the beach trees and off the lanterns, while some darker shells had been ground down to a painted stain that had been used in part to tattoo larger rocks that were too big for the sea to claim. Wherever the eye looked it was drawn to spiraling shapes and stories, never running out of objects to admire.

“How have I never heard of this? And how are we possibly the only ones here?” Emma asked, moving closer and looking at the intricate designs of shells and stones that had been added to the sands and earth more recently. A local commission of artists was in charge of these added displays of beauty, updating them occasionally, but usually waiting for nature to clear the slate. After a big storm where rainwater washed it all away, or higher tides than normal where the sea came just to the house’s front steps, new designs were created and enacted. But it was clear that there had only been sun for some time, and they were fresh on the heels of an exceptionally well-done redesign.

“Very few people know of this place, love. It’s a secret that is guarded by the people of this town so tightly you’ll find no books or blogs or trace of it anywhere. Liam and I are two very rare exceptions, outsiders with the good fortune to know it’s here.”

“How did that happen?” Emma asked, leaning into him and eager for the story from his past.

“My brother and I needed escape when we were here with our father, but we had little means of finding it,” he admitted, bracing himself for talk of that past life, and knowing he should get used to it now that they were nearly home. “The sea was the only thing of comfort for both of us, and we came to it as often as we could. We scoured every last bit of the coast, and I mean every bit. One day we landed here, and happened upon this house as we were searching the coastline for unknown coves. It was easily the best find we ever made. Of course, we nearly scared the life out of the woman who was crafting the shellscape that day, and once she alerted the other town’s people there was a big to do. We were sworn to secrecy and all the like. We never did tell a soul. It remained our secret – one idyllic hideaway from the world we lived in.”

“But now you’ve broken your oath,” Emma said, looking at him curiously, though she was clearly glad for his breach of that old promise.

“Some may believe that.”

“But you don’t?”

“No, love. I believe the promises I have made and will make to you supersede any others. Besides, I am fairly certain that the promise is null when it comes to my wife.”

“Funny, I don’t remember getting married,” Emma said, though her teasing was a front for the rush of emotions she was feeling. “In fact, I don’t even remember you proposing.��

Let’s change that, he thought to himself knowing he had the ring in his pocket right now, but reason won out in the end, and he remembered his plan. He wanted to get Emma totally settled into their new life first, and to make sure she was ready in all ways. He knew she loved him and that she would be his forever, but it was only right to ensure that he do things properly.

“Soon enough, love. You have my word on that.”

Emma grinned at his affirmation, pulling him down by the collar of his leather jacket and kissing him passionately. When they broke apart, she asked him to promise they’d come back here and he did, and after a bit more time in this private oasis, they headed back to the road, driving towards their destination once more.

The ride along the coast was quick, far quicker than he remembered, and when they pulled off the coastal highway and to the discrete exit leading to the town he’d once grown up in, Killian could sense Emma’s surprise. They didn’t need to share a conversation for him to gauge her apprehension and excitement. She was no doubt wondering if they were really going to be living amongst this dense and beautiful forest. It would be a big change from her life in the cities she’d always known.

Soon enough they made it to the town line, reading the hunter green placard that announced their arrival. Unsure of what he expected, Killian was surprised to see just how much improvement had been made in his time away. Their town had always been quaint, but it could easily be described as ‘down on its luck’ when he was a boy. He knew it was his brother’s hope to not only remove the stain of his father’s shady dealings, but to help revitalize this community in a way that had been lacking for decades. But when Killian departed to seek his revenge on Gold, those ideas were mere figments of a would-be dream.

Liam has truly made good, he thought to himself as they cruised down the main street. Here along the town’s center there were new businesses and old ones that had been repaired and shaped for competing in the world today. Things were still classic and beachy, but the energy around it all gave away two important facts: the first was that this town was being tended to and cared for by its tenants, the second was that it was also being protected, and that anything that may threaten this currently peaceful ecosystem would not be allowed.

In this stretch of the ride, Killian could see some familiar faces in the mix, people from his old life in this town who were going about their day to day none the wiser about his return. There were also quite a few new faces as well, but Killian could spot the tourists right away. Their biggest tell was their fixation on his bike. People who lived in this region regularly would be densensitized, and since Liam had imposed a safety parameter for the town from other gangs, they wouldn’t bat an eye, even at a biker without his cut.  

Not far beyond the center of town was the Den, the once large warehouse that had been reconfigured to fit the Land Pirate members and families when need be. When he was here last, the place was little more than a dump, with tell-tale signs of partying strewn about both outside and within. There was also a crappy, rusted gate around the perimeter that did the job of securing the place on some level, but had always been a huge eyesore. Gone was all of that, and in its stead was higher tech, better quality fencing. The Den was now fortified, and Killian could see the precautions put in place that passersby may not realize were installed. He also took note of the probie standing guard at the entrance.

Well this should be interesting, Killian thought as he drove up. He had no idea who this probationary member of the club was. Killian would have to explain who he was and that could get awkward. But before he had the chance the unknown man was speaking.

“Well I’ll be damned. Pres was right. Hook’s come home again.”

“Pres?” Emma whispered and Killian replied quietly.

“That’s Liam’s title here, love.”

“And Hook?”

“My road name.” Emma nodded, taking it all in stride as Killian turned his attention back to the probie. “So, he’s expecting me then?”

“Has been for weeks. You sure took your time getting out here, Hook.”

He looked at the probationary patch on the man’s Land Pirates leather cut and saw the stitched name ‘Mouse.’ Had to be a story behind that name. Didn’t exactly blend with the others who were patched in when Killian was here. “How do you even know who I am?”

“You kidding? You’re a legend, man, and so is she.”

For a minute Killian tensed up, thinking that Mouse was talking about Emma. He was feeling protective, and didn’t like the idea of other men looking her way unless they were going to show the proper respect. Only when Emma let out a laugh did he realize his mistake.

“Oh my God, you mean the bike! That’s classic. Please tell me it has a name.” Emma’s joking was incredibly apparent, and Killian was surprised at how nonplussed she was by their being on unknown turf.

“She,” Mouse stressed and Emma bit back her laugh, but her body still shook with it. “And yeah, bikes get names.”

“Wait don’t tell me. This will be way more fun if I can guess. Hmm, Harley? No that’s kind of obvious. Uh, I mean what do you call a gendered bike? Kind of a tall order… Oh I know, Lady. Kind of on the nose with the whole ‘it’s a she’ thing, but it works, right?”

Killian chuckled at the way Emma was enjoying herself, and he noticed the look of shock on the probie’s face. Clearly he didn’t understand the situation. This was no ordinary woman on the back of his ride giving him shit for having named his bike. This was the most important person in his world, and no one, club member or not, was going to question that.

“Look, kid, my woman and I have been on the road for awhile. We could use the rest, and it’s probably best not to keep my brother waiting anymore.” The overt use of the label for Emma created a total mood shift in Mouse. He had taken the hint.

“Absolutely, Hook. Ma’am.”

The change in tone as he nodded at them and buzzed them through to the compound was pronounced, so much so that Emma mentioned it when they parked and she stepped off the motorcycle.

“Is the somewhat caveman ‘me man, she my woman’ thing baked into this whole MC life?” Emma asked, her brow arched even as a smile teased at her lips. “I’m not complaining, per se. Just curious if I’ll have to announce my belonging to you everywhere I go.”

“Probies are probies for a reason, love, and the reason is they’ve got a whole lot to learn and more than one thing to prove. The men in this club with a patch, my brothers, they know better than to disrespect a woman, Old Lady or not.”

“Ah right, I forgot about that charming title. I don’t know who possibly came up with that one. ‘Old Lady.’ It’s so… unflattering. Had to be a man.”

“In this world, you can blame nearly everything on a man, love,” Killian quipped and Emma grinned at his assessment before continuing to lament the biker term for a man’s significant other.

“I honestly thought I’d have a few years before getting called ‘old lady’ and even then it would be by bratty neighborhood kids, not hot guys in leather who name their motorcycles.” Killian growled at the mention of men being hot and Emma teased him with a nip against his lips that was designed to have him wanting more but was only meant in jest. “But don’t worry, I’ll make up for all of this somehow. I’m gonna find you the perfect partner nickname that undercuts how irresistibly sexy I find you in all your leather. I just need a little time.”

“You can call me any damn thing you want, Emma. As long as you call me yours.”

The words were honest and immediately shifted the sass of Emma’s commentary to something softer. Instinctively, she placed a gentle and loving kiss on his lips before they both turned to the warehouse. Together they walked hand in hand towards the door, and when they entered, Killian held his breath. Would this place look like the nightmare of his youth? The place he’d have fought through anything to get away from? It took only the briefest moment to see those worries were unfounded.

Killian was utterly relieved at how normal the Den looked, and how the relic of old had been completely rehabilitated. The general concept was the same, starting with a vastness in the entrance that made it seem like this place went on forever. The entryway blended into a great room where club members and guests spent a lot of time, and in the back there’d surely be more changes to go along with these ones. Killian knew the kitchen and living quarters, the war room and Liam’s office all would have been revamped if this part of the warehouse was. But this communal space in particular held a lot of painful memories. The ghosts of this place had haunted him for some time, but they were nearly all cast away by the warmth and modern makings of this renovation. It made Killian want to see more, something he never truly believed was possible, but as curious as Killian was, there simply wasn’t time. Soon the renovation was forgotten, and instead he was faced with the all important figure standing there, waiting for him after years of no contact. 

“Liam.” 

…

Post-Note: So I know I have stopped it right at the start of a hugely important reunion, but I fully intend to make up for it in the next chapter. Introducing the actual MC is going to be such fun for me, but, as with this chapter, it may take some time before I have a next installment out. My muse has been tricky, but I am hoping to get a bigger chunk of my story, ‘Feels Like This’ written by the end of the year so I can hopefully finish it up. Anyway, I would love to hear what you all thought of this chapter, and as always, I really appreciate you all reading and thank you so much for the support! Until next time!

[blackenedwhite97]

Trials ( An Erasermic x Reader Medieval AU Ch.9-10)

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

https://blackenedwhite97.tumblr.com/post/643722830321696769/trials-an-erasermic-x-reader-medieval-au

CHAPTER 9

Shouta wordlessly led you along the tree line until you reached a reasonably level path to the north. Hizashi was limping terribly and barely able to keep up with you, and as much as you hated to admit it, your had only just gotten your ability to move around freely on your own back a handful of days ago and your body wasn't ready to make such a long and furiously paced trek on foot. The three of you ran until the canopies ahead were lit up with morning light and fluttered about in shades of green and gold. You were about twenty or so feet from cresting upon a hill and your knees buckled under your weight and exhaustion.Your already bruised knees hit the ground and this time you were sure the fall tore through your trousers as you felt the familiar bite of skin on stone.

"Sho!" Hizashi called out, stumbling to catch up to you and help you stand. "Sho!"

You could hear Shouta's footsteps above you still trudging forward through the rough gravel. You had begun to hit the slated hills that bled into the mountains.

"Fuck." Hizashi huffed to himself before taking a breath. "Sho!"

This time his name rang out, it wasn't loud enough for any sort of adverse effect to take you other than the slight jump of such a sudden loud noise hitting your ears. It was just loud enough to echo through the surrounding trees, it was loud enough that any other person would have had to really yell to get it out where it looked as though Hizashi had done little more than spoken normally. Shouta tensed and turned around, and you realized he had been completely oblivious to your fall or Hizashi's attempts to call him. Shouta had a thin trail of now dried blood running down the side of his neck that stemmed from one of his ears.

"Sorry." Shouta gruffed as he backtracked. He wrapped a hand around your arm and hauled you onto your feet with a huff and eyed the top of the hill. "Think you can make it to the top, we can set up camp there?"

You steadied yourself and nodded, eyeing his damaged ear. He watched you for a moment before realizing what you were staring at and sucked in a frustrated breath.

'I'm fine." He whispered.

"I'm looking at it when we get up there." you grumbled, forcing your tired legs to carry you just a little further.

Shouta nodded reluctantly and turned to Hizashi as you powered forward, eventually needing to grab onto tall rocks and bushes for help. As you ascended up the hill you could hear the couple muttering to eachother.

"Sho," Hizashi sounded mortified. "your ears."

Shouta cleared his throat and tried to change the subject.

"Give me your arm." He gruffed.

"Sho-"

"I'm fine, Zash." Shouta snapped. "Arm. Please."

You crested the hill first to find a clearing that appeared to be recently used as a campsite. Two cool fire pits sat, covered in ash and soot, but cool and unused for a few days at least. There was a long log that was obviously been dragged in from the other side of the hill and set up as a long seating arrangement next to the pits, the top of it smoothed down into a flat edge. The three of you sat in the clearing for a few minutes completely silent, letting yourselves catch your breaths a stew in your misery. It wasn't until Hizashi tapped your leg to get your attention that you realized he'd been staring at you.

"How's your ears?" He asked, his worried emerald eyes looking up at you. "And your head?"

"F-fine." You blinked, taking a second to back sure you were telling the truth.

"Good." Hizashi looked over at Shouta, who was gingerly wiping the blood from his neck. "D-do you have more of the medicine and water?"

"Yeah, I have more of everything." You started rummaging through the bag you had thrown over your shoulder and handed Hizashi bandages and a water skin. "I'll need to make some disinfectant liquid to drop into his ear though, it'll take a little while."

"Right." Hizahsi nodded, solemnly.

He stood up and walked over to Shouta, grabbing him by the shoulders and sitting him down next to you on the log. It was clear that Shouta wasn't fond of being fussed over but after a rather poignant look from Hizashi he sat still and made no qualms about the fussing. Hizashi wet the bandages and gently blotted away the blood, pausing every so often to survey the damage. It was clear as day to you that he felt responsible for the injury, every movement he made to help Shouta felt like an act of penance.

"Wagon." Shouta suddenly mumbled. "We need a wagon."

"What you need is to rest." Hizashi scolded.

"What?" Shouta asked, louder than you guessed he was aware.

"You. Rest. Now." Hizashi shouted.

"I'm fi-" Shouta began.

"No." Hizashi grabbed Shouta's chin and manhandled his face so they were making eye contact. " No."

It was tense for a moment and you could tell by the look on Shouta's face that Hizashi was being much more intense than he usually was. Shouta blinked hard and then nodded his head the best he could while still caught in Hizashi's grasp. He slid down the log until he was sitting on the ground and leaning back against it and able to lean his head back so he was looking up at the sky. Shouta gave Hizashi a sidelong glance, something akin to puppy dog eyes, you realized as Hizashi rolled his. Hizashi reached forward and gently ran his hand over Shouta's face, closing his eyes as if he were a corpse. Shouta grinned but kept them closed and took steady breaths until you were sure he'd fallen asleep.

"Are you sure about your ears?" Hizashi asked finally, looking away from Shouta.

"Hm?" you looked up at him. "Yeah, Shouta covered my ears."

"Ah." Hizashi nodded to himself. "Idiot. No offense, I'm glad you're okay."

"Is this- his ears- is that what happened to those men?" You asked, staring at the bloodied rag in Hizashi's hand.

"No." He gulped. "Worse. I was yelling right at them, if Sho had been infront of me he'd be lucky if he still had any hearing at all."

"Oh." you swallowed hard. You knew that they were theoretically dangerous men, they had to be with how they described their work, but seeing it in practice made your hand shake. "How bad-"

"Can it get?" Hizashi finished. You nodded. "When I was a kid, my family was traveling from one town to the other. It was spring so a lot of nobles in the area were going to their country homes and the roads were more dangerous than usual. We got caught up in a group of bandits, they were-uh, violent. They hurt my dad...killed him actually, and I- I, uh, well, screamed."

Hizashi sniffed and looked directly at you, guilt swirling in his emerald eyes. "I didn't mean to, but I ruptured the bandit and his horse's organs. Hearts just completely pulverized. Brains filled with blood."

"You were a kid," You thought back to the night you were attacked in your cottage. "you were afraid."

"Yeah." Hizashi smiled sadly, his eyes wandering towards the trees.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes not really knowing what to do. You supposed a fire would be a good thing to make and maybe food would also be a god thing to get. You thought of a lot of things that might be a good thing to do but if you were honest you were at a loss for what to do next and you were spending most of your energy on trying not to think about how those men had attempted to burn you alive.

"Where do you think we could get a wagon." Hizashi broke the silence. "I wonder if i could bum one off of that caravan back near town."

You realized he was talking to himself more than he was really talking to you, but the sound of his voice filling in the silence was comforting. It meant you had to think less to distract yourself. He shifted next to you suddenly, his legs shooting out in an awkward splay. His shoulder bumped yours and he huffed, his hand flying to his ribs.

"Logs are not suitable seating." He grumbled. "Trees are hard and don't get less hard if you turn them the other way."

You couldn't help but laugh as he fidgeted uncomfortably like a busy little boy confined to a church pew for the duration of mass. He was obviously pleased with himself because he was grinning too. Eventually he decided to just stand up, rubbing his rear with both hands.

"Staying still, not my forte." He grumbled.

"You haven't." You smirked, watching him roll his eyes at the accusation.

"Not what I meant." He looked back towards the farm for a moment. "Sho said we needed a wagon and I think I might know where we can get one. Will you be okay on your own for a while? Sho's a light sleeper, he'll wake up if you nudge him."

"I- y-you're not in any condition to travel, Hizashi." You stammered, thinking about his wounded leg and more disastrously his broken ribs.

"I've had worse." He grinned at you and winked, he was going to be the death of you.

"No." you huffed, grabbing onto the back of his heavy travel tunic. "You're staying and resting."

"Y/n-"

"No." You pulled him back towards the log. "You're worse than him."

Hizashi slumped back into the log next to you with a pout. "Well, when you put it like that."

"Sleep." you scolded. "Now. You still have valerian running through you, it should be easy."

Hizashi slid down next to Shouta and reluctantly closed his eyes. For a few minutes it was silent, nothing but Shouta and Hizashi's even breaths and the chittering birds filing the clearing. Hizashi leaned over towards you, eyes still closed, and rested his head on the side of your thigh.

"Hey, Y/n?" Hizashi hummed, eyes still closed. "We'll be okay. As soon as we get back home, we'll all be okay."

"That's very optimistic of you." You mumbled, somewhat disinclined to disagree with him now that he was so close- touching you. You tried to shake the sentiment from your head, he was injured and stupid not cute and..attractive.

"Not really." Hizashi chortled. "There's a healer back home, she works miracles."

"Right now, miracles aside, you need sleep." You muttered, you hand instinctively finding its way to the top of his head. You tested out a slow, long stroke down the back of his skull, his head nestling deeper against your thigh. You kept that slow, calming pace for a while, eventually his torso going slack in with sleep against your leg. You gently repositioned him so he was leaning against Shouta, the two of them naturally readjusting so they fit into each other perfectly. A small pang of jealous tugged at your chest, it wasn't of either of them individually but rather of simply what they had. You felt that yearning, something you hadn't felt since you were young and just starting to look at other kids as more than playmates. You felt lonely, in the greater sense of the feeling. You had no one, not the farmer down the way, not his boy who was ever so polite, not the kind lady in the trinket stall ot the market, and not a man to hold you when the night winds blew cold. Even though they were there with you, seeing them together just reminded you that they were together before you, and they would be long after you.

You slumped down to the ground as well, shuffling away from them, feeling awkward being so close. You had no plans to sleep, in fact, quite the opposite, your plan was to keep watch. But your eyes began to droop and every blink brought a sweet moment of rest that turned into minutes of sleep at a time until eventually you were unable to fight it off any longer.

***

A loud crack startled you awake, and you lurched away from the log and into a sitting position.

"Sorry." Shouta was stooping over a fire pit, now glowing with flames and a caved in log, a small grin pulling at his lips. "Didn't mean to wake up our look out."

"Oh-Oh! Sorry!" You blinked. "I-I didn't mean to fall asleep, I just-"

"Was exhausted. It's alright, we're still alive." You could see now that Shouta was struggling with a pile of bloodied fur and a hand full of sharpened sticks. "Hope you're not sick of rabbit."

"I'll take what I can get." You muttered, suddenly aware of how empty you felt after having not eaten since the previous morning. "Remind me when we get to wherever it is we're going, to eat something green."

"There's plenty of grass around."Shouta snorted.

"Not-" you laughed, giving him a pitiful shove. "-I mean something edible to the human race."

"Ah," Shouta hummed. "well we do have that back home, so you're in luck."

Shouta speared chunks of meat onto rough skewers and set them up around the fire.

"So," Shouta began, "how are you holding up?"

"Hmm." you chewed the inside of your cheek. "I'm alive."

"That's good." Shouta smiled awkwardly, his hand reaching up to cup the back of his neck. He looked to the side and you could see a bit of redness around his ear from his view. "I mean- you look- Uh, you look like you're doing good."

"Well compared to what I must have looked like when you found me, I'd wager anyone would look better than me."

"N-no true." Shouta stammered. "Well, I mean- I've seen a lot worse. Not that what you went through wasn't horrible, I just meant-"

"I get it." You placed a hand on his arm. "You guys see a lot of things, some of them I imagine are pretty terrible."

"Yeah." He breathed. "So, your powers are impressive."

"Thanks. I sort of impressed myself last night," You pulled your hand away, realizing it had lingered a little too long. "that was the largest thing I've conjured before."

"It was- impressive." He muttered. "You're impressive."

"Th-thanks." You tried to age what was happening in Shouta's mind. He wasn't a stutterer as long as you'd known him, which admittedly hadn't been long but it was still strange. His ears were heating up, the tips slowly blushing. He was either very suddenly stricken by an infection or... embarrassed?

Shouta stood all of a sudden and cleared his throat.

"What you did! What you did was impressive." He looked away and swallowed. "And I guess you are the one who did it...that makes you... impressive."

"Thanks, again." You swallowed hard. It was as if the two of you were suddenly gulping down copious amounts of saliva between awkward exchanges. That feeling from earlier, the one that sent you back into feeling like a child harbouring their first crush came back, but this time it wasn't jealousy that brought it back but... affection. You panicked. "I-I need to go make sure Hizashi doesn't lose his leg!"

"Right." Shouta huffed and turned away. "I'm going to go find us a cart!"

He started off into the woods, slightly more east of where you'd originally come from. You took a deep breath and screwed your eyes shut, Jesus Christ that was awkward. You turned around to look at Hizashi, you might as well really go check on him. You opened your eyes to find Hizashi, slumped against the log, eyes still closed, the ghost of a smile on his lips. Was he awake? Shit. Did he hear that? You walked towards him slowly, his face not moving a muscle, and gently nudged him. It took two or three jostles but he started awake with a sharp inhale. Good, he was asleep. Or maybe, he is just a good actor.

He blinked away the sleep and rolled his head lazily to look at you, a dopey, sleep filled grin spreading across his lips.

"G'morning, beautiful." He yawned.

"It's too early for this." You mumbled more to yourself. At least with Hizashi he had always been more affectionate with you, it felt less exclusive. "I'm going to take a look at your wounds, alright?"

Hizashi nodded and shoved himself up into a proper sitting position, one where his neck wasn't craned forward and the lower half of his back wasn't on the ground. He looked around as if he was just now noticing where you were.

"Too early for what?" Hizashi asked innocently. "It's midday."

"To have a drink." You muttered. Wine would have made this whole week much more bearable.

"I'm flattered, but I would prefer if our first date weren't in the middle of the woods." He grinned even wider, amusement sparking in his eyes. "And you having to clean my wounds puts somewhat of a damper on things."

You rolled your eyes, now he must surely be making jest.

"It's a good thing I'm a professional healer then, Hizashi." You peeled away the set of bandages you had applied during the night and made to replace them, the edges had been frayed and mud from the trek had soaked through. "It takes more than a little bit of blood to ruin a date."

"I do prefer a lover with a gentle touch." He sang wistfully, watching you gently unravel the bandages.

You lightly jabbed his leg lightly making his jump more from shock of sensation than pain. You moved on to cleaning his leg, dabbing it gently with a wet clean rag.

"You're awfully bold this morning." you scolded him "Especially since Shouta is probably only a few yards away."

"Yes, well, I have to catch up." Hizashi explained, his voice a strange mixture of amusement and earnestness. "Who already had a head start, mind you he completely threw it."

"Catch up? Hizashi, what are you talking about?" You looked up from his leg to find his enthusiastic smile somewhat faltering.

"You know, you didn't scold Sho like that for flirting with you." He murmured.

"F-flirt? Shouta didn't- he wasn't- Oh Hizashi, no-" You scrambled to explain what exactly that exchange between you and him was. So he was awake! That little shit is too good at acting.

Hizashi laughed heartily, his head tossed backwards, painfully bumping the log. He winced but continued to laugh.

"That, that whole thing he just did, is definitely him trying to flirt." Hizashi rubbed the back of his head with a grin plastered across his face.

"I- W-what?" No. It couldn't have been...unless, had it been?

"Yeah, that sort of compliment he paid you, that's flirting for him." He nodded, very matter of factly. "It's very sweet once you get used to it."

"I- but-you- wait, you guys are-" you tried to wrap your mind around not only the knowledge that Shouta had outwardly been flirting with you but that Hizashi was acting so nonchalant about it.

"Open." Hizashi states.

You go pink.

"I-uh, need to get some water." Off you scurried, down the side of the hill with your water skin in your hand, only slightly scolding yourself for leaving hizashi on his own. You wouldn't go far, you told yourself. You made it about halfway down the hill, just barely unable to see the top when you hear Hizashi's voice, clear as day, calling after you. "I'll be back in no time!"

You could have sworn you heard him laugh as you scurried through the trees farther down the hill. When you made it to the bottom of the hill you took a deep breath, you'd been holding it since you'd quite literally ran away from your problem. You rung the empty waterskin through your hands and tried to focus on listening for a stream but the only sound that you could hear aside from your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears was Hizashi's voice repeating the word "open". Open.

"What does that even mean?" you finally blurted out after stewing for long enough. You shocked your head, there was no point in trying to act innocent with yourself, you knew exactly what it meant. "The nerve of those two!"

"They show up," You sat down on a weather worn stump, the trek down the hill proved to be just about all your exhausted body could take at the moment. You gazed back up at the hill, dred filling you knowing that you'll have to climb back up later. "all 'We're your saviors sent from God and also look at our faces. Look at how nice they are'."

You were acting childish now, you knew that, but you felt childish. You hadn't had anyone feel for you that way they had, or at least how they seemed to, not since you parents. Sure, you were an adult woman and had experienced romance before, flings with merchants, a short lived relationship with a young farmer on the other side of town before he found a woman worth marrying, but this, how they made you feel was different. You were stronger than to need anyone, you hadn't needed anyone since you were sixteen. Since you'd been left on your own. Hell, you still didn't need anyone.

But you knew you would be lying to yourself if you didn't admit you really wanted them in your life.

You sat straight up. The moment that though crossed your mind it fell silent, as if it had been turning over every thought it had to find that revelation. Suddenly you could hear the birds, the wind running through the canopy up ahead and the smell of fresh summer flowers wafted around you. You were suddenly very aware of the present.

Despite the last week, you were overcome with calm, a sense of calm you only really get when you feel safe and protected. You'd felt it as a child when you knew your mother was watching out for you when you played carefree in the garden or when your father would hold you curled in his lap when thunder shook the cottage. You'd never felt this sort of safety wrapped in the arms of your lovers before, not that you had ever felt unsafe either. But there was something in you that said 'they are your home'.

The sound of a harsh breath and uneasy whiney startled you right out of your calmed state. You jumped and spun around, every inch of you spring loaded and ready to run or fight if need be. Instead of being met with a villainous rider you were eye to eye with a very familiar horse. He sniffed your hair and nibbled against your tunic before deciding there was nothing edible on you and slowly turned back towards the longer patches of grass along the stream. It was the horse you and Shout had left tethered in the woods, the lead handing loose around his neck with the rope chewed off, slighting dragging across the ground.

"Are you secretly one of them?" you asked the horse suspiciously. He chortled and continued eating, unbothered. "I don't know what you heard, but you will betray nothing. Understood?"

You looked back up the hill and then back towards your stead, and smiled. Upon entering the campsite you were greeted with two emotions, in quick succession. The first was frustration, it was evident on Shouta's grumpy face and less so, but still present on Hizashi's. The next, as they laid eyes on the horse you were riding, was over enthusiastic relief, and in Hizashi's case, joy.

"A sign!" Hizashi blurted.

"I- I'm not even going to disagree." Shouta agreed, a look of appreciative superstition on his face.

"Is there a problem?" You asked, staring between them as they looked up at you.

"We needed a horse." Shouta explained.

"You have a horse." Hizashi further explained.

"Oh." You looked down at the horse and gave him a few appreciative pets. "He found me."

"Already making my life easier." Hizashi sighed, melodramatically. He earned a quick slap in the arm from Shouta that, if you hadn't been watching them, would have gone unnoticed with the speed at which he struck him.

"Ow."Hizashi breathed, pointedly at Shouta.

"Stop, it's weird." Shouta muttered and looked away from both of you.

"It's not." You blurted out. You froze, Shouta froze and most fantastically, Hizashi froze. In a series of extracting slow and choppy movements Hizashi and Shouta turned back towards you, you could see pink swelling at the tip of Shouta's ears and roses blooming in Hizashi's cheeks. Your own face grew warm. Stupid. "I mean, if you- you know, still want- uh"

How do you explain to two fully grown men that you just met a handful of days ago that you would also like to engage in this weird flirting, open relationship thing they had going on with you, but still sound respectable doing it? Thankfully Hizashi interrupted you.

"Who'd you like first?" he crossed his arms and grinned devilishly.

"W-what?" Not thankfully! Quite the opposite! That Cock.

"Zash, that's not-" Shouta started to scold Hizashi.

"What? It's a fair question!" He asked, full well knowing it wasn't.

"Roach." You deadpanned.

"R-Roach? Who-"Hizashi shivered at the word.

"The horse." You informed him, trying to regain your composure. "I've named him Roach since it appears neither of you have given the poor lad a name. He's been very sweet on me."

"W-why that name?" Hizashi had his tongue hanging out of his mouth now, like something that tasted horrendous was hanging off the end and he didn't know what to do with it.

"What do you mean?" You cocked your head to the side, watching him squirm.

"Ignore him." Shouta grinned. "He's as bad as a baby in a thunderstorm when it comes to the creepy crawlies of the world. I have a cart."

"Good for you." you congratulated him.

"Might you loan me your horse so he can pull my cart?" Shouta asked, an air of overdone fromaily painting his words.

"I may consider it." You had already decided of course, but took an extra long pause. "I suppose."

"How gracious." Shouta bowed his head quickly. It was the sort of gesture that might offend a more stringent lord who was so insecure in his throne that the sloppiest of curtsies deserved death. Yet something told you that that wasn't so far off from how he would have normally interacted with royalty.

"So, where is this cart?" You inquired.

"South east of here there's a road not too far off, managed to track down a caravan as they stopped to set up camp before nightfall. They have a cart they're willing to sell if I can be back by tomorrow with a means to pull it." Shouta explained.

"I have your means." You patted Roach fondly, he seemed to sway happily. He really was sweet on you.

"Yes. Would you and your means like to accompany me on a trip then?" Shouta was awfully good at playing along with your oddly light mood. You felt giddy every time he responded playfully, he wasn't as emotional or expressive and Hizashi but he had a small grin across his lips and seemed less put out than normal. He was happy, possibly about the cart, but you hoped, selfishly it was about you.

"Let's go." You tugged the reins to the side so Roach turned sideways and Shout had direct access to his side.

Shouta mounted Roach and in one swift motion pushed you forward a few inches, wrapped his arms around you and took the reins. There was a small part of you that wanted to insist you could take the reins, but that quickly faded when Shouta pressed forward and leaned his chin on top of your shoulder and whispered into your ear. "Lean into me so you down fall, I'll get us there."

You melted back into Shouta, and even though he took off at an uncomfortable trot, you felt that calm again. It was barely ten minutes to the road, the caravan had neatly settled into a makeshift clearing on either side of the road. Some of the carts were utility carts, heavy canvas draped over the top, and others were like small rooms put on wheels. They had rounded wooden roofs and colorful painted doors, flowers, real and painted, decorated the sides.

The members of the caravan were all sorts, some in dresses and fine travel wear and others in eclectic clothing that piled fabric and accessories. For the first time in a few days you were starkly aware what you must have looked like. Then, all of a sudden you thought about what you must look like to Shouta and Hizashi, and you suddenly grew very self conscious. There was a difference between poorly dressed and poorly kempt, and you were the epitome of both at the moment. Not to mention on top of that you were pale and gaunt still and had red, raw, still flaking skin along your limbs and most of our body. You tried to push that thought aside, scolding yourself for allowing such insignificant issues to matter to you whilst you were literally running for your life.

You scanned the camp looking for a cart that seemed unoccupied or had a smaller supply load. Across the road there was a smaller four wheeled cart, a worn canvas cover draped over a set of sort frames, the middle one was broken and the cover dipped there. That was the one, you could feel it.

Shouta entered the camp slowly, nodding occasionally to onlookers until he reached a jolly looking old man who was missing a few teeth but nonetheless smiled like he had the full set. He patted the cart when you arrived like a market salesman who was proud of his stock. He was about to over charge you, you could feel it.

When he did tell you the price you had to hold back from laughing, it was the kind of price you'd give a stuffy rich noble knowing even they would talk that price down. You looked at Shouta, surprised to see him shrug his shoulders and tiredly reach back into the saddlebags and pull out a sizable bag of coins. He looked down at it, nodded and tossed it to the man without batting an eye. There was a moment of silence before Shouta jumped down from Roach and started surveying the cart.

"Do you have any rope?" He asked the man, who had gone pale, just booking into the bag. He nodded and sent his boy off to get as much rope as he could find. While you couldn't be certain how much was in that pouch, you reckon you could live for a few months on it, from just the size. You dismounted Roach and helped Shouta hitch the cart to him. Shouta was reasonably silent throughout the whole thing, the man even feeling a little guilty at one point and trying to give him his change. To which Shouta just replied "I know how much I gave you."

"How much did you give him?" you asked as the two of you rode away on your new card.

"Not really sure." Shouta Shrugged. "Roach here used to belong to a rider from House Noro, so however much he had on him."

"You know," You stretched out across the bottom of the cart, unter what was left of the canopy. "I was about to lecture you on irresponsible spending. But never mind."

Shouta laughed.

You stared up at the sloping canopy and the broken wooden support above you. What parts had snapped had been removed and now one side was broken off right at the top of the cart and the other after about two feet above the cart. You studied the shape of the supports that were intact and by the time you rolled into camp and Hizashi scooted into the small cart next you, you were able to conjure a support in place of the broken one.

"Not bad." Hizashi praised, staring up at it from the floor of the cart, hands behind his head. "But can you maintain it without tiring yourself out?"

"Not sure." you shrugged. "Let's see how long I can go for. After all, you wanted to experiment."

For the next couple of days you switched off with Shouta, driving the cart and you made progress heading north.When you could you'd throw up a support beam, the longest you'd been able to hold it for was an hour, which in all fairness was the longest you'd held any conjuration, let alone one this size. It was slower, the three of you with one horse, than if you'd had the two you started off with but it sure beat walking the whole way. When you weren't staring at the rear end of a horse you were rattling around in the cart with Hizashi who, despite his injuries, was as talkative as ever. He was also, as you noticed with both you and Shouta, unable to keep his hands to himself. Whether he was holding Shouta's hand, leaning against you, curling into either of you at night for warmth, it was something about being in a confined space with him that made you realize how physical he really was. Shouta chuckled when you mentioned it on the last night, saying that he'd be able to find someone to cuddle with in an empty field.

The roads got rockier, the incline steeper and on the last day you pulled the cart over at midday to give Roach a much needed break.

"What's wrong?" Shouta appeared next to you on the driver's bench looking around.

"Nothing, it's just a hard road and Roach could use a break." You rolled your ankles. "I'm getting a little stir crazy, myself."

"Let's go for a walk." Shouta hummed, he'd obviously just woken up. "Let me wake Zash up, and tell him we're going for a look around."

You nodded and hopped off the driver's bench, the road was harder and your ankled pinched at the impact. You rolled them out again and looked around for the first time since you'd crossed over into the mountain paths. Ahead of you the road wound to a fro, deep green trees lining either side, a faint mist clouding the end miles away. Behind you the road was straighter, a mile or so away you could see softer dirt give way to the hard stone before trees swallowed that end as well. It felt strange, looking down a road you'd never seen before, both ends leading to places you didn't quite know. You'd lived in that cottage atop that hill your whole life. The eastern road leading to the farms for miles, the western road leading to the town, and the fork in the road that lead north lead to the river where you would cross a bridge and end up in the neighboring town. On this road, to the south there was a vast world you'd only just scratched the surface of but no longer belonged in, and to the north a new world lay, one that you had no notion of having ever existed before now.

"Having second thought?" Shouta asked behind you. It was that soft voice, the kind one that he'd used when you first met. His hand gently grasped your shoulder and he looked after your gaze down the long road back south. "You can always go back, if you want to."

"I-" you took a breath. You didn't want to go back, not really. You were just unsure about going forward. "There's no place for me back there, Sho."

"Hm." Shouta smiled. "There's always a place for you with us."

"I know." You nodded, your own smiling creeping across your face. "How much farther.

"An hour or so." Shouta wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. Since the day after the barn fire you'd explored getting closer with the boys. Hizashi took to it immediately, leaning against you, placing a hand on your thigh when he'd sit next to you on the driver's bench if Shouta was asleep and couldn't chastise him for sitting up front. Shouta was slower than Hizashi, he noticed that you were only just starting to get comfortable with Hizashi's physical affection in the last day or so and didn't want to push you. It felt sweet when he did though, as if it was extra special.

"I can drive." He murmured into your hair. "Go relax with Zash."

You nodded and climbed in the cart, Hizashi, half awake, throwing his arms around you. He was reduced back to a pile of snores, cuddling into you like a child would a teddy. You settled into him and off the three of you rode, down the hard stone path until

Shouta pulled the reins and guided Roach through a set of trees far enough apart to fit a larger wagon. For a brief moment Shouta disappeared before your eyes, the dense wood swallowing him, but then the world wavered and he was back. Before him stretched a long thin road that led up towards a great grey stone fortress nestled into the side of the mountain.

"Almost home." Shouta announced over his shoulder.

CHAPTER 10

Great stone walls rose before you, far off figures marching to and fro along the tops only stopping to watch the cart rumble up the road. Shouta pulled back on the reins and slowed the cart to a cawl, raising a single hand in greeting. The brush off to the side of the road rustled in different places, a handful of figures stepping out onto the road.

"Shouta Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada and a refugee, Y/n L/n." Shouta stated before even offering a greeting. There was a response of momentary silence and the sound of a quill scraping against parchment, then and gravel filled voice answered.

"Welcome back." A head poked into your view, it was topped with wild blonde hair and an elongated snout, like that of a dog.

You tensed for a second, leaning backwards instinctually. He was like nothing you'd ever seen before, a hybrid between a man and a hound. He smiled incredibly human-like despite his snout and scratched his head awkwardly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." he gruffed. "I'm probably an odd sight, hm?"

Shouta turned and looked at you over his shoulder, his eyes were kind, soft, somewhat worried, but his lips were fighting off a grin. You looked back at the man and nodded awkwardly, you didn't feel up to talking just yet. The reality hit you suddenly, the reality that there were all sorts of gifted folk you couldn't have ever dreamed of, and you were finally at Kaer Yuuie.

"Hound Dog?" Shouta filled the silence. "Call ahead to Chiyo, both of them need medical attention."

Hound Dog looked over at Hizashi, who was still asleep and slouched against you, nodded and darted off. You sat up, trying to see past Shouta's shoulder, to watch him run off. At first he was on two legs then his shoulders drooped and his hands hit the ground, and in this quadrupedal state he took off at an inhuman speed. His booming growl filled the relatively silent woods and was followed by the moaning of great chains and the heavy creaking of metal.

The great gate that sat in the middle of the fortress walls was metal as opposed to the usual heavy wood, and as such forgoed the retractable metal grate before it. It was hoisted up in a series of pulls, pausing for a moment at the end of each so the team pulling it could get a new grip on the chains. You tried to picture how many men it took to open the gate, the image of a long line of stocky guards popped up in your mind.

Shouta spurred the horse forwards, the cart groaning quietly under the increased speed. It was very much to your surprise that upon passing through the gate, which on it's own showed how incredibly thick the walls were, that the team pulling the gate open was made up of about four young men, no older than fifteen or sixteen. One of them had fiery hair and a proud grin, another was blonde with crimson eyes and gritted teeth. The blonde was scolding the redhead over something but he just laughed it off and shouted across to the team on the opposite side of the gate. On that side a boy with messy green hair and freckles was paired with a tall,silver haired boy who wore a mask on the lower half of his face and had more than two arms. You couldn't help but stare for as long as you were able to as the cart rolled by.

You rolled through an area between two sets of walls a few yards apart. There were plain rows of buildings lining the outer wall, all sorts of people passing in and out of them, all wearing thick leather clothing with occasional pieces of chain or plate. Closer to the inner wall there were hay dummies, similar to the ones you'd seen the sparingly few times you'd had to go to the barracks in town and all sorts of platforms and elevated bars that people were jumping around on.

You passed through the second wall, just as thick as the other and here you were greeted by all sorts of activity. Colorful mismatched buildings lined the great wall and roads lined those, then more buildings formed three small city blocks. There were stands that sold all sorts of items, trinkets and jewellery, clothing and blankets, artisanal candles and books. As you traveled down a wide road, straight towards the center of the fortress people parted to the sides of the street, bright hair, glowing eyes, animal features and most noticeably smiles. Everyone one wore finer clothes compared to back home, there were no old women in fraying shawls and dirt covered farmers wearing overalls riddled with patches.

The houses fell away and you passed through a second thick wall. In this layer of the fortress all of the buildings were stone and covered in filigree. The cart came to halt and you slid forward into Shouta who held out his arm and gently steadied you. Your eyes were flying around trying to take it all in, there were four very distinct buildings, three of which were topped with great golden symbols and stood side by side. There was a giant golden mortar and pestle atop one, a giant sword and sheild atop another and the third building was topped with a giant golden tome. The fourth building was the largest of them all and fed into the mountain side. It's steps were golden, and had an arcade of great pillars that bore incredible carvings that swirled up and down their ridged surfaces. There was no large golden symbol affixed to the top of the entrance but you were able to surmise that it must be the house of Kaer Yuuie's Lord.

"Overwhelmed?" Shouta's voice was right next to you, his arm snaking around you back and under yours to help leverage you onto the driving bench.

"I- this place-" you swallow hard and resorted to just nodding. The buildings were taller than any you'd ever seen, the tallest building in the village your cottage bordered on was two stories and an attic but these appeared to be four or five.

"Makes you feel small, hm?" He followed your gaze and looked up. "I felt the same when I first arrived too."

"Aizawa!" A pair of men dressing with sterile white tunics rushed towards your cart from the open doors of the building with the mortar and pestle affixed to it.

Shouta looked down from the tops of the buildings and nodded to them.

"This is Y/n, she's in my charge. Hizashi is in the back and may be in need of a stretcher." He informed them, genturing ot you and throwing a thumb back over his shoulder. "Y/n, these men healers. They'll take you into the hospital, I'll meet you in there."

The two men looked friendly, they had polite smiles and kind eyes and hands outstretched to help you down from the cart. There was a monetary pang of fear in you, the only people you'd interacted with in the last week aside from Shouta and Hizashi had either actively been trying to kill you, or complacent in watching you slowly die before their eyes. You felt Shouta's hand squeeze your shoulder gently and his chin just bushed your shoulder.

"It'll be ok," he whispered softly "I'll be right behind you."

You breathed and nodded, taking the outstretched hands and stumbling off of the tall drivers bench.

The hospital was made of pristine polished stone inside and out, it smelled of tea tree and wormwood. You were led to a wing of the hospital that was made up of several long and wide halls lined with fluffy white cots on wooden frames. Wooden frames holding large sheets of parchment propped up on wheels divided each bed, from one another and you found yourself settled into a cot across from Hizashi who was still groggy from having slept most of the day away.

"Heeey." he greeted lazily, grinning.

"Hi." you gave him a small smile back.

"Hello to the both of you." A very small old woman sang from the doorway, at her side stood Shouta who was carrying a pile of clean clothes. "My name is Chiyo, Chiyo Shuzenji, I'll be your healer."

"This is the miracle healer I was telling you about." Hizashi said, somewhat more awake now.

"H-Hello." You greeted her, sitting up a bit taller against the wall.

"Now," Chiyo waddled over to you, Shouta following in her wake. "let's take a look at you."

Up close she still felt small, her eyes were squinted with age but glimmered under the wavering torchlight in the room. She had deep smile lines and a button nose that twitched as she smiled. She waddled up to your bedside and waved you off when you tried to sit up and swing your legs off the bed to face her.

"Give me your hand dear." she held hers out expectantly. You adhered to the request and reached out our hand, her own barely able to wrap around just one side of yours. He gave it some thought and brought it to her lips, pressing a small kiss against your tender skin.

It felt cool, not a biting cool like the spring you'd bathed in, but a calming cool like a fresh wash cloth pressed to your face when you have a fever. The cool feeling washed over your hand and up along your arm, stretching in waves across your back and chest. You watched amazed as your red peeling skin and blisters began to disappear, fresh pink skin in its wake. The skin on your hand and arm completely healed within moments, and that all over tight soreness of the burns leaving your limb. It felt better than you'd ever believed you could feel again.

A wide smile spread across your face as you watched, not quite sure if you should believe what you were seeing. You looked up at Hizashi who was already grinning at you, a bright pink blush flushing his face as he made eye contact, and noddin as if to confirm that this was real. You felt the tightness of your skin dissipate around your shoulder and upper back as well before the coolness faded. You looked at Shouta, and found him grinning as well, but his eyes were trained on your arm.

"How does that feel?" Chiyo asked, settling back on to a stool at your bedside.

"I-it's-" you struggled for words "it's a miracle."

"Not quite, but thank-you." She smiled kindly. "I won't be able to heal your whole body in one go, from what I felt you have all sorts of bruising and blistering. Possibly two ornthree days of treatment, alright?"

"It beats the weeks I'd have given my patients." you breathed, staring down your hand.

"You also felt exhausted, dear." She gave Shouta an exasperated look. " I'm going to give you something to help you get some sleep, I mean real sleep."

"Th-thank-you." you felt tears welling in your eyes.

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Molag Bal) Fascination

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Angst, Suggestive 16+, Romance ☁

Word Count: 3,629 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Molag Bal ☁

World: Skyrim ☁

Author’s Note: Am I thirsty as fuck for Molag Bal? Yup. Do I regret writing this and showing off how thirsty I am for Molag Bal? Nope. Highly inspired by the sexy ass images found here. And yes, I know technically none of the Daedric Princes have been given definitive genders, but I don’t care. I view them as men and if you want to see them differently, you do you boo.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

Thunder boomed loudly overhead, making you take pause as your eyes slid toward the darkening sky. You were currently on your way to Whiterun from Solitude, delivering an order of fancy clothes to Carlotta Valentia, who was hosting a party soon. Your mother had ordered you to do so, often using you as a free delivery service and offering you no choice nor reward for your efforts despite traversing dangerous roads in her name. You had mentioned borrowing the family’s horse in order to make the deliveries faster, but she didn’t want to risk her baby getting hurt.

‘Yet she sends her child across Skyrim with no protection,’ you scowled, kicking a rock to vent your frustrations. ‘What sense does that make?’

Thunder boomed again and with it came a sheet of rain. You cursed, doing your best to shield the bag of clothes with your body as you ran for cover beneath a large tree just off the road. What were you supposed to do now? If you continued on your journey, the clothes would surely be damp and possibly ruined, something you were sure Carlotta would not pay for. On the other hand, if you didn’t show up on time, she would report that to your mother who would then take out her anger on you again, which you knew would also happen if you delivered wet clothes.

‘No matter what, I lose here.’ You leaned your head back against the tree, closing your eyes as a headache began to throb at your temple. All you wanted was to be free, happy, but that was just a dream, you knew. If you ran away again, she would find you and make you pay dearly for wasting her time. The last time you had attempted to flee, she injured you so badly that you weren’t able to walk for a week.

A soft breeze ruffled your hair and you opened your eyes toward the sky. Despite the thunder still rumbling, the sun was now shining down on Skyrim. You waited a few moments to see if the rain would start up again before you decided to continue on your way, picking up your pace to make up for the lost time.

You made it to Whiterun without further incident. Though the bag had been a bit damp, the clothes inside of it were completely dry, much to your relief. You pocketed the two-hundred gold and started the trek back to Solitude but the closer you got to home, the more depressed you felt.

You had just reached the halfway point of your journey, just before Markarth, when you suddenly paused, turning your eyes to the sky. The sun was shining brightly, making you squint. “I don’t want to go home,” you muttered sadly.

“Then don’t,”

The deep, husky voice of a man startled you. You whipped around, eyes scanning around you for the source of the voice, but there were no signs of life, not even a deer or a rabbit. Your brow furrowed in confusion.

‘Have I gone mad?’ you wondered before shaking your head with a bitter chuckle. ‘No, my mind could never think up such a sexy voice like that.’ You continued on your way when the wind suddenly kicked up ominously.

“You dare to ignore me, mortal?”

You swallowed, realizing that the voice was, in fact, not in your head. “Who…who are you? Where are you?” Instinctively, your hand went to the dagger at your belt. It was a poor excuse for a weapon, but it was all you had to defend yourself with.

The man chuckled in a sultry tone and you felt your heart skip a beat. “I am the Daedric prince Molag Bal, lord of domination, god of Oblivion! And I want your soul.”

“My soul?” You breathed out. You knew you should feel afraid but… honestly, you didn’t. It couldn’t be any worse than what your mother puts you through, right?

“In exchange for your soul, mortal, I shall free you of the chains your woman has so tightly placed around your neck.”

“From one prison to another, huh.” You chuckled bitterly. “Forgive me for saying so, but that hardly seems like a fair trade.”

“You have some nerve, mortal, to dare speak to me in such a way.”

Your eyes slid closed and you forced your body to relax. “Just kill me and get it over with. Please,”

The voice was silent for a moment and you briefly wondered if you had been imagining the whole thing, and then he spoke again. “Hmm, fine. Let us come to a more… agreeable deal, then.”

Your brow furrowed. Why would a Daedric prince be willing to make a deal? “Like what?”

A black and purple cloud materialized before you, making you take a cautious step backward. Was he going to appear from that black hole? “There is a man that needs to be slain in my name, for he has been destroying my alters and smeared my name. He is a follower of Boethiah,” he spat the name as the smoke cleared to reveal a rusty spiked mace. “Take my mace and end his life. Show Boethiah that my followers are absolute and can not be bested.”

As if in a trance, your hand lifted toward the mace, head tilted to the side. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt, the metal surprisingly warm against your palm. It was quite heavy, but nothing you couldn’t handle after constantly lugging around large bags of clothes. There was something… strange about this weapon, about this whole situation. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t fascinated, but there was something you just had to know. “This is a trap… isn’t it?”

Molag Bal chuckled, a deep sultry sound that reverberated in your head. “If you complete this task that I have assigned to you, mortal, I will allow you to walk away with your life. And then, you will be truly free, just as you desire. My mace will be yours, and with it, you will harvest the souls of every enemy you slay.”

Everything within you was screaming at you not to trust this Daedra. Anyone with half a brain knew better than to do so, but what did you have to lose really? Your hand tightened around the weapon. Despite how dangerous, how powerful, it felt within your grip, it also felt so right, like you were meant to wield it.

“Tell me,” you breathed out. “What is the man’s name?”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You stepped into the city of Falkreath, known for its expansive graveyard. The two itself was quite small, hosting only a couple of shops and homes. The guards watched you with weary gazes as you passed by, not knowing what your intentions may be. You offered them what you hoped to be an innocent-looking smile, not wanting any trouble from them.

You came to a stop in front of the inn, glancing up at the sign hanging above the door. ‘Dead Man’s Drink? How charming,’ The door creaked as you pushed it open, eyes scanning the inn. Only one patron was inside and he was passed out drunk against the table at the back of the room, snoring louder than anyone you had ever heard before.

Standing behind the counter was an Imperial woman with shoulder-length brown hair and matching eyes. She leaned forward on the counter, her hands flat on the wood. “Welcome to Dead Man’s Drink. We offer food for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, and sleep for the tired.” The words sounded so rehearsed as if she had repeated that same line dozens of times before, but you hadn’t been aware of Falkreath receiving that many visitors.

You approached the counter. “Hello, I was hoping you could help me locate a man named Hans Coralian. I believe he came through here quite recently.”

“A lot of people come through here,” she responded, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why are you looking for him?”

You glanced over your shoulder at the empty Inn, raising a brow. ‘I feel like that comment is a bit of a stretch,’ Your eyes met hers as you went over the options within your head. “He… He’s my father. I’ve been searching for him for such a long time, ever since my mama passed away…”

Her gaze softened considerably and she nodded. “Yes, he was in here two days ago, talking to some woman about something they needed to find, talking in real hushed voices.”

“You don’t know where he went, then?” You questioned, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Maybe,” She closed her eyes in thought, folding her arms over her chest. “When I brought them a second round of mead, I heard them mention Knifepoint Ridge, just northwest of town, but I wouldn’t go there if I were you. It’s supposed to be home to a group of Daedra-worshippers. Real dangerous.”

You offered her a kind, thankful smile. “Thank you for your concern, but I can handle myself. Good day.” As you stepped out of the inn, your fingers brushed against the mace attached to your belt. Something about having that weapon just made you feel so safe, so powerful. You hadn’t felt that way in such a long time and it was a welcoming feeling.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You reached Knifepoint Ridge without issue.

As you climbed the hill, you quickly crouched down behind a large boulder when you heard people fighting up ahead. Peeking around, you noticed two men fist fighting in a circular ring surrounded by spiked wooden barricades. Several others stood around the ring and on the stone steps leading up the mountain, watching the fight with clear amusement.

“Who are you?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, whipping around with your back pressed against the boulder. Standing before you was a Dark Elf female and a Nord male, their eyes narrowed suspiciously. So much for the element of surprise. “Uh, well, I… I’m an adventurer, and I believe I got lost…”

The woman hummed, folding her arms across the black chest piece she wore. “We are lord Boethiah’s faithful. If you dare, you may test your mettle and join us in worship.”

‘Boethiah… well, at least I know I’m in the right place.’ You glanced at the Nord man. ‘He matches the description of Hans, too. It might be easier if I’m on the inside. Perhaps I can befriend him.’ Hesitantly, you nodded. “I’ve heard… great things about the Daedric prince Boethiah and, since the opportunity has presented itself to me, I wish to join you. Fate has brought me here and I shall answer its summons.”

She smiled slyly, licking her lips. “If it is so, and if Boethiah appears, then we will welcome you as one of us. If you wish to gain Boethiah’s attention, you must slay a thrall upon his shrine.” She pointed to the right, where a set of stone steps slowly curved upward, stopping where a tall statue stood on the edge.

‘A sacrifice? Where the hell am I meant to find someone to sacrifice?’ Your brow furrowed as you cautiously approached the steps, but a sudden, angry voice boomed across the open area, making everyone take pause.

“Defiler!” Roared a feminine voice. Suddenly, the Dark Elf started to seize, dropping to the ground and clutching at her chest. She gasped in agony before falling still. Several moments passed before her body stiffly rose up like a corpse from the grave, limbs unnaturally stiff and face contorted in rage as she looked upon you. “You DARE to bring that thing near my shrine?!” She wailed, pointing a finger at the mace. “Do you have ANY idea who I am, mortal?”

You opened your mouth to respond, to try and calm the raging Daedra by spinning a tale that you had simply found the mace and had no idea what it was or who it belonged to, but she wouldn’t hear it.

“Silence!” She snapped. “Do you know what we Daedra are, child?”

“You’re a god,” breathed one of the star-struck followers, his eyes wide as he looked upon his lord with awe. “Your voice, it’s so… beautiful, my lady!”

“I am a man, you foolish mortal.” Boethiah scowled as he waved his hand through the air. An invisible force flung the man backward, his body pierced on the spiked barricade behind him. “We Daedra are far more powerful than any god. And among my brethren, I am the most feared!”

Deep laughter echoed loudly throughout the clearing before a black and purple portal materialized beside you. You didn’t even have time to back away before a man stepped from the portal, standing at least two feet taller than you. His skin was midnight blue, white symbols etched across his chest and arms, and two sets of curved horns, similar to a goat’s but much thicker, jutted out from either side of his head. Eyes the shade of red rubies shined under the moonlight as he looked upon Boethiah with amusement, placing a clawed hand on his hip. His hair was short and messy, and as black as a raven’s feathers.

You couldn’t help but stare at him, your cheeks turning red. ‘He’s so gorgeous…’

“Dear Boethiah,” He drawled. “You are the most feared? Don’t make me laugh. You’re the least feared among us and you know it.” The corner of his lips tugged up into a smirk as he witnessed the rising anger within his face. “You’ve been sending your foolish little followers to destroy my shrines, leaving me with only two left. Now I will do the same to you. While your chosen champion hides out deep within the mountain like a coward, my champion will destroy your influence!” His eyes snapped to you and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “Y/N, I command you to take my mace and destroy the shrine!”

Your body reacted on its own, turning and taking off for the stairs before your brain could comprehend what was happening. You pulled the mace from your belt when Boethiah screamed out in anger, giving chase.

Molag Bal intersected him and he sneered. “With only two shrines, both of which are so very far away from this location, your power is weak, brother. You can not best me, Molag Bal!” The body he was in started to expand and morph, growing until it was the same height as Molag Bal’s. His skin darkened to the color of the midnight sky with hair as white as freshly fallen snow, flowing to his knees like silk. His eyes, completely white and full of anger, snapped to you.

You were halfway to the shrine when he appeared before you, swiping at you with his hand, nails as sharp as nails. With a squeak of surprise, you barely managed to dodge the attack but your foot slipped out from beneath you and you hit the stone, your wrist twisting at an unnatural angle. It was painful, but the adrenaline coursing through your body like fire kept the pain mostly at bay.

You scrambled to your feet as he tried to grab you, his nails slicing open your arm as you dodged his grip, stumbling up the stairs like a toddler who had only just learned to walk. There was only one thing running through your mind – destroy the shrine.

‘Just as lord Molag Bal ordered,’ you thought. A part of you didn’t want to let him down, but you didn’t know if that was because you hoped he would save you from your mother, or simply because you had fallen under his spell. It was probably a bit of both, to be fair.

Boethiah grabbed the back of your leather armor and tugged hard, pulling you back toward him. You cried out, trying to grip the stone beneath you but he was much stronger than you and you no longer had feeling in your right wrist. “This is where you die, mortal!”

A thick red fog filled the air, making it impossible to see more than arm’s length in front of you. Boethiah howled in pain from behind you, his grip loosening on your shirt. You could feel the will of Molag Bal urging you forward and with a cry, you mustered up all of your strength and pushed forward, feeling the leather tear and the cool night air hit the exposed skin of your back. You were breathing heavily as you booked it the rest of the way up the stairs, the mace poised to strike as you zeroed in on the statue.

“No!!”

Just as the mace made contact with the stone, you felt a sharp pain in your side, a cry escaping your lips as blood splattered to the ground around you. Using all of your fear, the pent up rage, and now the pain coursing through you, you raised the mace and struck the statue again. Chunks of stone exploded from the statue, flying in all directions. You closed your eyes on instinct and continued to strike at it until there was barely anything left.

Boethiah screamed from somewhere behind you, a scream so loud it made your ears ring, and the last thing you saw was a brilliant explosion of light, and then nothing.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

“Ow, my head…” A groan slipped past your lips as you came to, slowly opening your eyes. The room you were in was small, lit by the soft orange glow of cream-colored candles. They were nearly fully melted, offering only a few hours more of light. You shifted your body, feeling straw and leather beneath you. ‘This is definitely a bedroom, but… it’s not mine.’ You struggled to remember the last place you had been, but your memory was coming up blank.

The wooden floorboards creaked as a man wearing a dark robe entered the room, carrying a tray with two mugs of milk and some steaming bread. You could just barely make out his smile from beneath the hood. “It’s about time you awoke. I worried you would sleep the whole day away.” His voice was deep and aroused something familiar within you. He carefully set the tray on the table beside the bed before resting his hand upon your forehead. “Your fever is gone, that’s good.”

As he pulled away, you noticed the rich blue tone of his skin. Your brow furrowed in confusion. “I… I’m sorry, but… who are you?”

He looked upon you with surprise. “Do you not remember me, my love? Well, no matter. I’m sure it’s just the side effect of your illness.” The man smiled charmingly and reached out to stroke your cheek. “I am your husband, Mikel.”

“Mikel…” you whispered, hoping if you tasted the name on your tongue, it would awaken your memory, but nothing happened. Your brow furrowed in frustration. “Where are we?”

“Our home in Markarth,” he answered, taking your face between his large hands. “Trying to force your memory will do more harm than good. You should rest.” You seemed unsure about this, so he leaned down and claimed your lips with his. It felt like a fire erupted within you, flowing through your entire body like lava and it felt… amazing. Like nothing you had ever felt before.

A moan slipped past your lips and he smirked as he pulled back.

“Rest, my love.”

Your hand shot out, tightly grasping his robe to prevent him from standing up. “No,”

“No?” he quirked a brow, red eyes shining with amusement. “You dare to defy your husband, Y/N?”

“Stay with me,” you begged breathlessly. The fire was beginning to face and you wanted more, needed more. “Please,”

His tongue slowly slid across his plump lower lip as he shifted to hover his body over your own. “How could I dare deny such a request from my most treasured?” His voice was husky and low, reverberating around your brain. You clutched at his body, trying to bring him closer but he didn’t budge. “Now now, my dear Y/N.” He chastised, pulling your hands away so he could pin them both above your head, easily holding them with one hand. He hummed, pleased at the way your body yearned for his touch, slowly sliding his hand down your side. “We should take our time and savor our first union together, don’t you agree?”

You couldn’t respond, too pre-occupied with the firey haze that had invaded your mind. No one had ever had such an effect on you before and your body couldn’t handle it. It felt like you were losing your mind.

He clicked his tongue before letting his hand dip between your legs. The way your body arched into such a simple touch fascinated him and he wanted to find every single tic your body would offer to his ministrations.

Leaning down, his lips brushed against your ear, warm breath creating goosebumps across your flesh. “Say my name, Y/N.”

“Mikel – ”

“My real name,” he growled, tightening his grip on your wrists.

You moaned as pain mixed with pleasure. Images flashed through your mind so quickly, you could only see bits and pieces, but a name stood out among all of the images. Your voice was breathy as you met his red eyes, shimmering with want and amusement. “Molag Bal…”

He smirked, showing off a set of sharp fangs. “You are mine, Y/N, in every sense of the word. Do not forget that.”

Your only response was a sharp intake of breath as his body pressed flush against your own, bringing his lips down to claim yours in a heated kiss. His body pinned you to the bed, making it difficult to breathe, but you had no objections to offer.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[maddestzoomer]

late-night drives

warnings - i don't think there are any aside from a small amount of cursing and a lil bit of angst :)

word count - 2.1k

summary - you go for a late-night ride with steve harrington

a.n. - just thought this was an interesting concept, and so i put it into writing haha. also, i guess this could serve as a second part to stop thinking 

.`.

It was two in the morning as you got dressed, pulling on an old sun-bleached t-shirt and some jeans, trying to remain as quiet as possible.

Maybe you wouldn't be doing this if it weren't so uncomfortably hot in your room- the type of hot that made your sheets cling to your body and your skin break out in a small sweat. Maybe if your mom would bother to turn the A/C on, well, maybe you wouldn't be sneaking out.

Tonight was different from the regular, though. Steve had invited you to hang out, and the thought of doing so made gave you something to look forward to. It wasn't often only the two of you hung out.

A part of you wondered if he would actually even show up. You, of course, hoped he would- so that you would be able to spend time with that charming brunette. But the clock on your nightstand sprouted doubt and worry in your mind as the time went on, causing you to pick at your nails as you gazed from your window.

All that doubt and worry was left behind when you watch a car pull up in front of your house.

'Shit...' You thought to yourself. All of a sudden, the reality of the situation seemed to come crashing down. You could feel your heart beating in your chest. Why the fuck did Steve have to have /that effect. The one that made it hard to breathe and even harder to think.

Stop thinking.

You began walking from your room, attempting to be as careful and quiet as possible. You'd studied the hallways floors before, so you knew where to and where not to step.

As soon as you close the front door, you felt pure energy. It may have been three in the morning, but it no longer felt like it. The tiredness faded away with a soft summer breeze, causing the smallest of smiles to pull to your lips.

Quickly, you walked Steve's car, hopping into the passenger's seat and shutting the door behind you.

"Well, look at that!" Steve greeted with a smile as he shifted the car into drive "You know, you're basically a juvenile delinquent now."

You rolled your eyes, though you smiled softly "That's definitely a good way to greet someone." You joked, buckling up.

Steve chuckled softly, rolling down the windows. How he managed to look so awake and ready at 2 am, you had zero clue.

The sprinklers from your neighbor’s yard hissed softly, though that becomes distant as Steve pulled further away from your house.

Steve turned the radio on, flipping through a few stations before finding one he liked, a station playing something by New Order.

Steve, like you, doesn’t sleep all that much. His mind simply doesn't let him sometimes. With all that has happened, sleep is a rarity. He could be absolutely exhausted (mentally or physically), laying in bed with 20 milligrams of melatonin in his system and he still would be kept awake. So he drives. It helps calm him down.

The red lights paint his face in vibrant shadows as he taps on the steering wheel to whatever song was playing. Then, he gripped the steering wheel tightly, and a muscle twitches in his clenched jaw.

“Are you alright?” You asked with a frown, surprised at the hoarseness of your own voice.

Steve shrugged with a slightly casual smile, the light turning green. He slams on the accelerator, causing you to tightly grasp the side of you seat. No one else is on the road (thankfully).

Steve slowed down slightly, not wanting to worry you.

“I don’t get it,” Steve finally said, shaking his head a bit. He sent a glance your way “I just don’t get it.”

“Don't get what?” You ask with a slight frown

“What am I supposed to be doing?” Steve asked as he slows to a stop at another red light, again glancing over to you.

“I dunno. Where am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to do?”

“If anyone knew the answer to that question,” You smiled softly, sadly, “we’d all be a lot happier.”

Steve shakes his head with a very small smile, then turns onto a road you knew well.

“We’re going up?” You asks. There was a high up hill in Hawkins, one that allowed for people to overlook the town below. You had visited there a few times, mostly because of how calm it can be there.

“I feel like looking down on something,” Steve replies “Makes my problems seem... smaller. Ya know?”

You nodded a bit, still with a small frown. Sometimes, Steve worried you.

The wind and crickets are quickly drowned out as he rounds curves and climbs up the mountain, pressing your shoulders back and forth in you seat.

“I think... at the very least, you know where you belong,” You finally said quietly, when Hawkins is below you and there was less twisting hill available to climb.

“Here. I think.” You added softly, eyes being drawn to the window. Maybe it sounded a bit off when you said it, but you absolutely meant it. He belonged here... right? Such a small town could be pretty shitting with the generally conservative mindset, but at least it was safe, right?

Steve tilts his head, eyes still glued to the road. The headlights bounce off of the signs and flash in both of your eyes. “Maybe... Hopefully.” He said, tone uncharacteristically unsure of itself. Contemplative.

The wind cuts through your clothes, making you shiver and cross your arms over your chest. Steve sees it out of the corner of his eye. He made a quick glance in your direction.

“There’s a sweater in the back.” He says softly, beginning to make another turn

You nodded thankfully, reaching to the back, grabbing the dark blue sweater, and pulling it over your head. It smells softly of pine and coffee, and you swiped off a few crumbs that fall when the fabric rests on your stomach.

“This is gonna sound stupid, but I went to a tea place today,” Steve says, slowing down and pulling over to the side of the road. “Just to watch, I guess. I wanted to see what people do.”

“And?” You asked, looking to Steve. Tires crunch on gravel as he slows the car to a stop on a pullout

“Everyone seemed to have something to do. Grab a coffee and go to work. Sit down for a couple hours and study some stupid summer course. Meet up with a friend and talk about nothing. They all- well,” he parked the car, turning it off and opening the door to step out

You followed him, now grateful for the woolen sweater. Once you were out of the house, it seemed to get a whole lot cooler

“I guess they all seemed to know what they were doing. And I was just sitting there, like 'Fuck. I could be doing something- I should be doing something.'" He said as he climbed onto a rock, then sitting on top

You hesitated a moment before joining him on the rock, taking a seat next to him. The two of you were close to one another, shoulder to shoulder.

“Maybe that was where you were meant to be,” You finally said with a small smile, settling down next to him. He drew his knees up to his chest, taking in a deep breath. It was obvious he didn't agree.

“In that coffee shop. Wondering about the lives of those people. Maybe that’s what you’re meant for, Steve.”

“Yeah... but that doesn't pay bills. Wondering can only do so much.” He murmurs with a small, sad smile, eyes dancing over the lights of the town beneath him. Distant noises drift up- a car honking, a coyote yelling, drunk college kids running around- and you are reminded that this night is not just yours and Steve's

The wind plays with the hairs on the back of your neck as you tilt your head back to stare at the stars. You knew Steve wasn't really asking for an actual answer- at least, not from you, not tonight.

He just wants someone to hear him. That's all he ever wanted. And he knew you would listen because you always listen. Not many people listen actually to what Steve has to say. They write him off as an asshole air-head, as a boring little boy with parents who didn't give a fuck what he had to say.

You know Steve isn't that, though. You know Steve is far, far more.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Steve took your hand into his own, interlocking your fingers with his. Your eyes grew large, and a pink blush dusted over your cheeks, but Steve didn't notice. His eyes stayed on the town below.

"This town is such a fucking shithole..." Steve said quietly as he absentmindedly ran his slender thumb over the back of your hand. You frowned a bit 

"It's not too ba-" you cut yourself off when Steve faced you.

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The look on his face said more than enough. Steve's gaze was soft but somewhat saddened.

"Steve?" you finally ask, then pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. "Why do you think you don't belong?" you finally asked.

Steve looked down at your interlocked hands. "Because... I don't know. This place is just full of bullshit people with bullshit brains. So many of them... They just- They aren't like you." He said this softly, calmly. Saying it out loud made his heartbeat in the back of his throat. It made his chest a little heavy.

You frown as you look at Steve, shaking your head a bit in confusion. "W-What does that even mean?" You asked, tone obviously confused. Your heart also began beating faster

Steve smiled a moment, looking up to the sky a moment. "Jeez, Y/N..." He bit his bottom lip a moment. Tearing his eyes away from the starry sky, placing them on you, smiling slightly more at your confused frown

Steve let out a deep breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. His grasp on your hand became slightly tighter, though it still remained gentle and comforting. He smiled softly, remaining quiet for a few moments before saying "I like you, Y/N. I really, really like you."

A strong wave of realization hit you. First, your eyes grew large, then your mouth fell open. Your reaction was, simply, pure awe. Shock, even. Was Steve saying what you thought he was? Or- did you somehow misunderstand him?

Your silence began making Steve a bit nervous "C'mon, Y/N." He let out a quick, sharp breath that was a failed attempt at a chuckle. "You're scaring me." He said, beginning to frown slightly himself. Was telling you how he felt the right idea? Fuck, Steve was beginning to think it wasn't

You kept your eyes on Steve. "I umm..." You looked down a moment at your hands- how nicely they fit together, how nicely /you fit together. "I... like you too, Steve." You looked up to meet Steve's gaze again.

Steve surprised you when he let out a quick laugh. It made you flinch a bit, thinking this may have been a stupid joke. But then, you saw the bright smiling curled to Steve's lips. You hadn't ever seen such a brilliant and genuine and fucking /happy smile plastered on Steve's face before, on anyone's face for that matter.

It was a truly beautiful smile. One you thought you would remember forever. You thought, for a very quick moment, that you would want wanted to see that smile forever. It was a smile that filled you with happiness, with genuine gladness. That smile put you at more ease than any spoken words possibly could.

A small thought made itself comfortable in your mind. 'I want to see that smile every day until I die.' The thought wasn't alarming, invasive, or untrue. It was a comfortable, calming truth. It was like a warm weighted blanket or a mug of hot cocoa between cold hands.

Maybe someday you would tell Steve what you truly thought. But that day... it wasn't today

[secretblog1212]

All in Good Humor

BLEASE can I get “You think you’re funny?” with Geralt & Jaskier? -Amazingmsme

Of freaking COURSE! this turned out way longer than I expected it to but like y’know oops. Hope you like it!!!

Okay, so Jaskier should have known that going after Roach would be taking things a bit too far, but he didn’t happen to be thinking of that at the time. No, instead his only thought process was ‘this will get Geralt back for even thinking of touching my lute.’ Roach seemed perfectly content with it as well, so jaskier didn’t quite see what all the problem was, but by the time Geralt had gotten back from fighting some monster on their way to the next town over he had been put in a mood.

Jaskier was tuning his money maker when Geralt walked up to where he had left the two of his companions together less than an hour ago. The crunching of sticks and leaves as he made his way closer had Jaskier barely keeping his grin off his face. He couldn’t wait to see what his Witcher would do. 

The snapping stopped all at once and the air was silent waiting for some response to be had. Geralt walked towards his beautiful steed, patting her nose and bringing his hands up towards her hair which had been braided with forest wildflowers. He hummed at her and she snorted back, pushing herself against his shoulder. 

Now, this is where Jaskier started to think he might have gotten away with it. Geralt seemed to appreciate that Roach approved. At least, that was what he thought until Geralt turned away from his horse and the Witcher and his Bard were face to face. 

Geralt took slow, strong steps to where Jaskier was sitting against a tree. Panic began to boil in Jaskiers belly. Surely Geralt wouldn’t do anything horrible, maybe tell him off for putting Roach in the cross hairs of their games, but no harm no foul right? Those thoughts began to turn more fearful and questioning with every rustle of the leaves beneath Geralt's feet. Perhaps using Roach was a no no he hadn’t thought of before, but he had thought it was a cute idea. She was truly a beautiful horse and deserved to be pampered from time to time. 

Jaskier looked his doom face on as Geralt stood towering over top of him. He’d allow Geralt to make the first move, caution would be needed until he knew how deep he had gotten himself. 

Geralt's voice was gravely, raspy like he got after fighting a good fight. The adrenaline was still pumping its way through his veins. 

“You think you’re funny?” He asked. The question itself showed that although he may not be angry at Jaskier, he wouldn’t let him get away with any of his actions. 

If Jaskier had any sense of self preservation he would have made the smart choice of either apologizing, or switching the conversation to how beautiful Roach looked. But sadly, Jaskier did not have a single cautionary bone in his body. 

“I think I’m quite hilarious actually.”

“Hmm.” 

Jaskier, as he always did, kept going. “Honestly surprised I haven’t started to take up being a comedian yet, perhaps a jester or something if i were to ever settle down?”

“More like a town foul to me.”

With a gasp of shock, more for dramatic effect now than anything, “Why I am offended Geralt! Wh- How dare you call me a foul. A *foul*!”

Geralt just hummed at him again, not even dignifying him with a response, honestly the nerve of some people. 

Jaskier carefully set his lute on the ground, he would need his arms for this performance. “Just because you have a bad sense of humor,” he began as he got himself to his feet, ignoring how Geralt still towered over him. “Does not mean that others would not find my jokes funny. And if you believe so, oh, you are sadly mistaken! You couldn’t make a hyena laugh if you tried you-you always serious big Mr.Tough guy!”

Geralt just tilted his head as if contemplating something. “I have my own methods.”

Jaskier had to laugh at that. “Methods? How, boring people to death till they give you pity laughs?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Geralt wasn’t angry, of course not over some playful dispute, but Jaskier had seen how his eyes shifted from bored and slightly annoyed to playful and observant. He had started a competition he wasn’t ready to handle. 

Geralt set his shoulders back. “Alright. How about we make a deal then Jaskier, if I can make you laugh before we sleep for the day then you will have to complete a request of mine.”

A double edged sword if Jaskier had ever seen one, a deal that he knew he would lose, but what was pride if it didn’t make you make poor decisions in order to prove a point. 

He narrowed his eyes, he was curious as to what Geralt would do anyway so why not.

“Deal.”

Geralt smirked, and then backed away without saying another word. 

“Uhh, hello there?” Jaskier grumpily asked as he followed the taller man. “Are you going to do anything or just give up?”

Geralt looked over his shoulder, then up at the beaming sun in the sky. “Well, since I have all day and night before I need to complete my task I figured I could take my time. I am going to head down to the lake about half a mile to the east to wash up now.”

Jaskier was dumbfounded, although he should have expected Geralt to drag this out as long as he could. Instead he scoffed and crossed his arms as Geralt gathered a set of new clothes to change into. 

He didn’t notice when the Witcher had walked up behind him until he was leaning down with a hand on his waist to whisper in his ear causing goose bumps to crawl across his whole body. 

“Don’t worry, I will put my full focus on you here soon my love.”

To say that Jaskier was on edge was an understatement. After Geralt had left it had taken him almost the full hour he was washing to get the blush to leave his face. What exactly Geralt was playing at Jaskier didn’t know, but it hadn’t made him want to laugh. All it made him want to do was find the nearest hotel. 

When Geralt came back, hair damp and skin washed of the dirt and grime of the past week Jaskier was sure he was trying to seduce him rather than make him laugh. But instead of making a move Geralt just went to go fetch some firewood for the night.

Things continued on in a similar fashion for hours, the taunting actions Geralt showed, well aware that Jaskier couldn’t take his eyes off of him, began to be more than just visually distracting. By the time he was getting ready for bed he had forgotten entirely about their whole little competition. 

    Jaskier was pulled close to Geralt, sitting sideways across his lap by the end of the night. Geralt held him with one hand on his back and the other across Jaskier’s legs, watching as the younger bard began to blush light pink across his cheeks. 

‘Get yourself together,’ Jaskier told himself, ‘He shouldn’t be able to fluster you so easily.’

But the bard's face only gained more color as Geralt began to hum in his ear, teasing him about how perfectly the two seemed to fit together. “My hand fits in your hand, and on your head like ale in a tumbler. And even now you sit in my lap as if it were a chair made specifically for you.” Geralt pulled him in closer.

“Any my hand right here, fits perfectly against your side,” he said, but something was different about his voice. It was lower, but not in the way he spoke to the things he fought. No, it was more like he was imitating a monster himself. 

His voice was a growl, sending shivers from his neck to his toes once his next words finally hit him with the force of a mountain troll.

“Just perfect to make you like, like music to my ears.”

In his defense, Jaskier was much too taken aback to properly respond in time. It was a rude trick, a dirty rotten cheating trick. Although the realization had hit him it was too late to try to escape the Witchers hands and wiggling fingers. 

With a squawk of betrayal he tried to push himself further into Geralt, away from the hand that had snuck around his side to squeeze and poke the squishy meat of his body. 

He was able to bite down the giggles that tried to jump out of his chest, and focus on squirming away from the feeling. Memories of earlier that day came rushing back, of fuck why did he make a bet against a Witcher, Geralt none the less. Was he a fucking idiot, no just a town foul. 

He in his squirming he brought himself to have his back against Geralt's chest, best for rolling over to escape right? Well not so much. Instead it just so happened to give Geralt his whole chest to explore, and freed his other hand up from where it had been holding him from flopping backwards out of reach. He tossed his head back onto Geralt's shoulder as he valiantly fought the losing end of his internal war, laughter was sitting right behind his teeth trying to desperately pry his lips apart. 

“Come on Jask, you know you won’t be able to hold out much longer. If you break now maybe I’ll take it easy on you for insulting my humor.”

Jaskier knew he was asking for it, really, but again his pride decided now would be a good time to take the map out of his hands and go off road. He shook his head, ending with his face pressed firmly into Geralt's neck to hide the fact that he was smiling, although Geralt could have figured that one out himself, and blushing more than a maiden at a bar. 

His hands began to wander away from just his sides, one heading toward his center, poking around at the squishy section of his stomach while the other went off on its own down past his hip and to the top of his thigh. 

The sudden shift was enough to break the seal of his lips with a yell. 

“FUHuhucKIHING Gerahahlt!”

Jaskier felt himself losing control, his leg kicked out and he did his best to curl up in an attempt to get away from the devilish fingers, but Geralt easily just held him back against himself. 

Geralt could have stopped there, he had already won so what was the point in continuing. Oh, right, Geralt liked to watch Jaskier suffer. How could he have forgotten. 

Geralt just held him there, occasionally switching spots to test which ones got different reactions. He made little comments too, just little “Oh your ribs must be a bad place if you tried to fling yourself away that hard.” or “Remind me to go for your knees when you start to act up on Roach next time, that should get you acting right.”. The little things like that, or how he analyzed Jaskiers different laughs that he had depending on where he was being tickled. 

Geralt learned that when he dug into Jaskier’s legs he would cackle and kick out a lot, but if he went for a softer spot like his stomach he would giggle and melt almost immediately. He loved to see how they made him blush too, even without the little comments areas that were softer tended to make the man much more red in the face than just laughing could explain. With one hand tilting his head up, too weak to try to really fight him off, Geralt was able to see how Jaskiers eyes squinted shut, and his face was dusted with a light pink which disappeared below the collar of his undershirt. He looked almost graceful, like a Nymph from some of the older stories Geralt had heard. Innocent and playful as he seemed Jaskier began to peek an eye open through his laughter.

Now that wouldn't do, Geralt didn’t like to be caught looking as hypocritical as that sounded. As quickly as he could recover, which was much too quick for Jaskier to even notice what was going on in the first place, Geralt had found his escape plan. 

“I know I’ve already won, but I know you love a big finish.”

He wedged both of his hands underneath Jaskiers arms and began to press against the top most rib with vigor. The rapid switch caused Jaskier to let out an honest to god snort which Geralt would have to come back to later seeing how Jaskier moved to cover his mouth at the sound rather than to get the hands away from him. 

It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to get Jaskier cackling like some witch in a wooden cabin. 

His fingers stilled and Geralt held his huffing Bard against his chest while he caught his breath. Jaskier didn’t try to move away, even after the same person had just attacked him, he knew the threat was over now. Geralt put a hand in his hair and gently rubbed at his scalp, occasionally pulling at the tangles that had found a way into his precious locks. His other hand held onto Jaskiers own, the fingers intertwined. 

Geralt leaned them both back together, Jaskier malleable like dough in his hands. Geralt was preparing to sleep now, Jaskier almost fully dead to the world himself when he heard the faint whispers of his bards voice. “Your humor still sucks though.”

He chuckled deeply from inside his chest. Jaskier might never learn his lesson, but they could always try again tomorrow if he wished to be stubborn.

[starstruckmyths]

Tender is the Love of Yellow and Green

For @stuckys-hot-dogs​, who inspired this little plot bunny to come hopping through the meadow of my head. I blame you and your annoyingly gorgeous piece of magnificent art. This is all your fault. 

                          ┍━━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━┑

                                                   Chapter 1

                          ┕━━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━┙

Light scattered, wavelengths expanding and multiplying, and the complicated tapestry of soul and mind broke, only to grow back together in the midst of a wonder of colors, displayed beyond the borders of his soul. The universe reflected in his eyes, twinkling with the thousands of stars, planets and supernovas, all forming patterns from their joined energy, shattering like the stained glass he saw his reflection in.

With the stars still twinkling in his eyes, he closed them, light scattering once more and all joining back together to form a body, two bodies, the many patterns like a kaleidoscopic configuration, reflected in all mirrors around.

In his hand, he clutched his trunk, the new leather pressing hot against his palm. The large thing offered a comforting presence, a certain weight that grounded him while they spun; a sign in the dark, one of safety. Watching the world form around him, was like watching a child fill in a coloring page, only with so much speed it left him slightly disoriented.

A white canvass flowed out before his eyes, lines appearing rapidly like a sped-up video, colored in with green hues; a field of grass. Dark blue streaked above, the night sky forming like wool knitting together, painted by a great big hand that held the brush tightly. 

Beneath his feet, a stone road unfurled, stretching out until it touched the closed doors of a large building, a castle. There was a short flash, no more than the light of a camera when it captured an image. He stumbled forward, feet a second too late to catch up with him, his hands thrust out to catch himself before the fall would ensue. 

The trunk that he had been gripping so tightly, dropped from his hand, the weight gone, nothing to hold on to anymore. As he swayed his arms to regain his footing, the trunk hit the ground, a heavy thump spinning up at any ears close enough to hear. The air around him was hot, though the gentle breeze did much to compensate. There was dust hanging around him, a wet scent of dirt adding something he was not quite used to. Carefully, he stood straight; muscles, fibers, cells, all disoriented, all new to the sensation he just went through.

A deep breath; a new smell; a new experience; a new way of being. He blinked again, eyes slowly opening and closing, turning all that existed dark for the mere half of a second, nothing to be seen while he did. Once reopened he looked into a set of worried eyes, crinkled at the corners by years of age long past.

"Are you alright, mister Rogers?" the woman asked in the dark robes asked, looking him up and done as he stood unsteady on his feet.

He nodded, though still a tad hesitant. "Yes, professor. Just a little dizzy."

She hummed in response, watching him take his trunk before they approached the large building, the castle, mumbling something under her breath about certain dangers and passing by Poppy later if he was still dizzy. Knowing the low murmur of words was not meant for him, but for herself, he kept quiet, stepping alongside her firm stride with a funny feeling rising in his stomach. Something that had nothing to do with the fact he had just been pulled apart at home, and put back together again somewhere completely else.

They entered the large castle, and he felt as if the two eyes that he possessed were not enough by far, and he widened them to take in all that expanded around him. That which they walked through was so tall, grey stones rising like mountains everywhere he looked, covered in a sea of paintings. The echo of ancient magics flew like a spring breeze through the air, and he could feel brush along his skin. The gentle wisps of energy caressed his cheeks like the touch of an old lover, purring as it sensed the new source of magic entering their domain.

The faces of the paintings looked at them curiously as they passed, stretching out their necks and even rising to their feet to grant themselves a better look at the newcomer. He supposed it was strange, the two of them walking around the castle while the rest of the school was readying themselves for the Beginning of the School Year’s Feast in the Hogwarts Train, and the First Years were fluttering about in excitement for what soon would come.

Truth be told, he had rather seen himself arrive here with all them, watching the landscape blur by as he stared out of the window while sitting on the couches of the famous train. Sadly, various reasons and delays had made it impossible for him to arrive at the right station at the right time. Judging from her demeanor, professor McGonagall had rather seen it differently as well, though it was also clear that she did not fault him in any way. She told him to put down his trunk in the corridor at the beginning of the large stairs that led towards the main hall, not offering an explanation why, or what would happen to it.

Their steps echoed around the corridors, the professor held her wand before her, the tip glowing by an unspoken magic spell, that Steve knew by memory. He contemplated taking out his own wand as well, whispering Lumos to it just to see it light up, but he did not. Some of the paintings grumbled and muttered, angry about the bright light that was not quite yet needed, and he wondered how something that was painted could ever be bothered by a light. The evening was falling, and soon it would be dark.

Eventually, they stopped before a large stone gargoyle, standing tall and proud before them, though he had his doubts about the construction. Art was as beautiful as the observer’s eyes saw, but he could hardly think of anyone who would find this piece of work appealing. The professor stopped, watching the stone creature.

"Licorice coins," she said, then she waited patiently.

It moved.

Like a real creature of flesh and blood rather than stone, the gargoyle unfurled its wings and snapped its beak towards the two standing in the hallway. It looked at them with a large eye, moving to the side to reveal a large wall behind itself, which split in two. The gargoyle snapped its stone beak again, arcing its neck with a curious glance towards the two. There was a spiral staircase behind the wall, moving smoothly upward, much like an escalator.

The two of them stepped onto it, the wall closed with a heavy thud, and the gargoyle was out of sight. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, dizzy again, Steve saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. It must be the headmaster’s chamber. Professor Dumbledore’s chamber. Professor McGonagall raised a hand, fingers curled to a slack fist, and then rapped on the door.

"Come in," said a voice, sounding so old and yet so strong at the same time.

As if by itself - which, at this point, wouldn’t surprise him at all - the door opened ajar, far enough for professor McGonagall to take the handle and open it further for the both of them. Steve saw a flash of a most beautiful, circular room, full of funny little objects that shimmered and shone in various lights he could not yet see.

McGonagall stepped inside the room as sure as her whole stance always suggested she was, and, after taking a deep breath, much less certain and confident, Steve followed.

                                                    𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 

When the time came for the First Years to pass through the large entrance hall that awaited them, the thousands of delicate candles, as they floated so gently in the air, seemed to curl and flicker as if to greet them warmly, and the stunning sight did much to the nervous flitter of bugs in Steve’s stomach.

The flames of those pale yellow candles twitched in that vulnerable, yet so powerful way fire does, the bright flames pushed by a breeze from the newly opened door. They twinkled in the dawning darkness of the ceiling above, that looked as if it was a window opened to the very heavens themselves, sparkling with a thousand stars, and lazy clouds sailed by. The candles swayed through the air like a sea of lights above their head, and briefly Steve did wonder how they managed not to drip any wax on the students below. That question was soon answered with the very one word that explained everything around here. Magic.

Those flickers and flutters were caught in the shine of golden goblets and plates that lay perfectly placed on the long tables in the hall. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years - and Steve - up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver.

Feeling like an odd fish out of the water, standing there taller than the rest of the First Years, Steve averted his gaze to the floor as to refrain from having his heart clench in his chest upon the sight of mocking grins. The thought that no one would mock him for being the older one among the First Years had not yet come to mind. Then, he looked at the four-legged stool that professor McGonagall silently placed before the table of the professors, in full view of the entire hall. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard’s hat. Steve frowned slightly at its patches and frays, and overall how dirty it looked.

Still, he could feel the magic ooze from it as if it were a river of ancient spells.

When the hat did twitch and twist, his brows raised, and he truly thought that this would be the most strange it could get. Of course, he would be surprised many more times, but though the spells he would learn, and the facts he would memorize, and the creatures he would see were all special and mind-boggling, none of them could be quite as weird as a moving, living hat. When said hat then opened a rip near the brim wide like a mouth, and began to sing as well, Steve could only stare.

Once the hat had finished the song in its deep, surprisingly melodious voice, the whole hall burst into applause. With something that could only be described as a smile, it bowed to each of the four tables before falling to a motionless silence. With a thick swallow, Steve gave the hat a fleeting glance, then quickly looked away.

"We only have to try on a hat, thank goodness," a young voice piped up next to him. Steve turned his head, regarding a young kid who was wobbling and twitching on his feet, hands unable to keep still as they plucked at his robes. The kid’s hair was messy, almost in complete disarray, and his bangs hung in front of his large, brown eyes. The kid was looking back at him, looking positively thrilled to be here. So much so, that he was practically jumping in place with his feet on the floor. "I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker."

"Steve Rogers," Steve answered, mustering up a smile to ease both himself and the kid, "Nice to meet you, Peter."

The kid’s jaw dropped.

Professor McGonagall began to read the names from a large scroll of parchment that she was holding. Peter’s head perked up shortly, but hearing that they started with ‘A’, he did not pay much more attention to it. By his side was another First Year, a chubby kid with dark hair, who had been looking left and right into the large hall, but once he heard Steve name himself, his head snapped their way, eyes equally wide as Peter’s.

"Steve Rogers?" he whispered, rushed, breath thin, "You mean, the Steve Rogers? The guy who- umph!"

"Shhh, Ned!" Peter shushed while jabbing his friend with an elbow, a little too loudly, which earned them a pointy look from one of the teachers at the table.

Curious to the teacher, Steve lifted his head, seeing that the man was much, much smaller than the other teachers, having to sit on a special chair to reach the table. He had a shock of white hair, and was wearing green robes. The two of them crossed eyes, and the man’s lips curled up, nodding just slightly before clapping for a student who had been sorted into Ravenclaw. 

Right. The ceremony. He spared a brief glance to the two kids, who now whispered furiously to one another, before looking back at the hat. He dreaded his own turn.

"Rogers, Steven."

Stepping forward, his breathing thin and almost painful, Steve went to sit down on the stool. Whispers broke out like fires across the hall, heads whipping around to meet up with others, and as he sat there, he could just see them look surprised and crane their neck, before the hat was placed on his head. 

The wide brim slipped across his eyes, showing him nothing but a darkness made with old fabric.

"Well," the hat spoke up, like a hush of voice in the back of his head. Somewhere, Steve hoped that the other students would not be able to hear what was said. Like a strange bird on his head, he could feel the hat move. "This is interesting. Very interesting. Hm-mh. You’re a rule breaker, aren’t you? Yes. A reckless one, but in service of others. The greater good, that seems to be reoccurring. I see talent here, certainly. A need for friends. Hufflepuff would give you friends, give you what you need."

Steve gripped the edges of the stool, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He could not care less about where he would end up, he just wished for it to be over. He wished that Hogwarts had no houses at all, so that the sheer dread and fear that slithered coldly through his stomach like a worm would not rear its ugly head. Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, he did not care. He was alright with every single one of them.

He wished the hat would just pick one and be done with it.

"You have ambition, that’s for sure. Needs to be discovered yet, but that’s alright. A brave heart, oh yes, so brave. Selfless. You need to get your head right first, a purpose. How about we go with that?" Unsure if it was a question or not, Steve gave a minute shrug of his shoulders. He did not know. He just did not know, and it ripped his heart. Almost as if reading his mind, which it probably did, the hat said, "That is alright, young wizard, you will figure out where you belong. They all do. Until then, how about we just put you with..."

The hat was silent for just a fleeting moment, then it shifted again and called out, "Slytherin!"

A roar of cheers rose from the hall, most so from the table of students wearing green scarfs. The hat was lifted off his head, but the pressure had not gone away at all. If anything, it seemed to have become even heavier. He could not bring himself to smile as he walked to the table, though he knew it had nothing to do with the house he had been sorted in. Slytherin was fine. Hufflepuff would have been okay. Gryffindor would have been alright.

A few of the students quickly scooted over to make room for him, and he settled down next to a girl who had hair that was even brighter than the flames above, and redder than the banners of the Gryffindor table. The locks curled around her face to pool across her narrow shoulders like lava pouring from a volcano, and her bright green eyes took him in both curiously and openly. Her scarlet lips curled up in something of a smile, and she reached out her hand to lay it, oh so gently, on top of Steve’s.

"You’ll figure it out," she said, her voice somehow perfectly audible through the pandemonium of cheers and voices.

Steve swallowed once more. "I hope so," he answered.