Oneshots 'n stuff

by Yulicey

I have way too many goddamn feels and ideas in my head and it's making it noticeably harder to focus on my main stories. So I'm putting my random emotions here, read if your into that. Both teams are along for the ride.

Jaune

Tiny hands connected to tiny fingers on a little girl with light blonde curls. He'd been eight years old when she was born, and from the moment he'd seen her lying in her crib in the hospital he'd loved her. It was a strong sort of almost but not quite instinct that rose thick and hard in his throat, before sliding down and taking permanent residence in some hollow spot he'd never noticed in his chest.

Protect her. It said, and that's all there was to it.

They'd gone home as a family of 10 instead of 9, and he'd never been happier. Sure like any baby his little sister had her fussy and downright infuriating moments. She absolutely hated her formula for one, and waking up at 3:00 A.M wasn't a bonus either. Their parents attitudes when they were running on 4 hours of sleep was all sorts of balls too. But he still cared, they were the youngest of 8 kids and she'd need someone who could empathize with that.

Besides no matter how much attention she took away from the rest of them, and no matter how long she stayed up crying. There were the moments when he'd stand over her crib in (his/her? their) parents bedroom. Watching her look around the room with wide eyes, taking in every sight and smell like it was brand new. But she'd look at him every now and then, and each time she'd smile.

He tells her stories sometimes, old tales of his ancestors and their glory. Of knights clad in armor with sword in hand, of rangers who with their trusty hound at their side and bow at the ready. Of the ones who did not or could not hunt, but helped wherever they could;

"They were the best of them all." he tells her one night, sat staring down at her wide-eyed expression.

"They couldn't or wouldn't fight, too weak or afraid of hurting somebody. So they put their hands towards healing, fighting everyday to keep people alive."

She smiles at that and there's another rush of fondness in his chest, "I'll protect you." he says, "Make it to where no one can ever hurt you, so you don't have to deal with what they did.

A week later at dinner his parents ask him what he wants to do when he grows up, it isn't even a choice it's obvious in a bone deep way, "I want to be a huntsman!" he says. Getting an "aww"

from his mom and a laugh from his dad.

And he'd never really had a chance had he?