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emiarainewrites · 2 years

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Okay, I need to talk about Earth vs The Spider (2001) real quick…

•It’s not really a remake of the 50s movie, just shares the name.

•Was produced by STAN WINSTON as a part of his Creature Feature set of films (which I have not seen outside of this one, though I am trying to track down a copy of She Creature -otherwise known as Mermaid Chronicles part 1: She Creature (for some reason)-).

•Has some AMAZING practical effects (and some iffy CGi, but that’s thankfully used sparingly)

•And is just an all around fun monster movie that hardly anyone talks about, but considering it’s kinda difficult to find I think that’s understandable to some degree

If you look this film up (especially on YouTube) you’ll pretty much find a few trailers, a review here and there & the specific fact that Pedro Pascal is in it. Yeah, no kidding, THAT Pedro Pascal. He only has a few lines and is in one scene, so don’t get too excited. He’s real young too, and decked out in goth attire (though not as adorable as Robin Lord Taylor in The Melancholy Fantastic, a film I need to finish).

I find this lack of attention to be a complete shame. The movie is fun and interesting.

If I were to boil it down for a simplistic pitch, I’d call it basically ‘The Fly but for Spiders’ / ‘Spider-Man version of Brightburn’ (a darker take on a well known superhero concept). Or perhaps a light cross between the two.

The movie stars Devon Gummersall as Quentin Kemmer, a security guard at a high-tech biochem lab who, after a break in and the tragic death of his partner, gets injected with an unknown substance that will hopefully grant him superpowers based off spiders. This train of thought coming from the fact that he’s a big comic fan (specifically the movie’s own version of Spider-Man ‘The Arachnid Avenger’ - oh, and his dog’s name is Thor by the way). He has the hots for his apartment complex neighbour, Stephanie (Amelia Heinle), a nurse, who very much reminds me of an other-world Denise Richards. Stephanie is a nice lady who can stand up for herself and him against some street trash who often loiter outside their building. Their romance is sweet and personally I wanted them to make it through everything.

Now, considering I brought up The Fly before, I don’t think their relationship is as emotionally driven or memorable as the one between Seth Brundle & Veronica Quaife, but for an essentially made-for-tv movie, I think they did pretty good.

Dan Aykroyd is also in the movie as well. He plays a grizzled cop named Jack Grillo, who’s been copping (hah) some sh!t from some of his peers because of an incident involving the death of his own partner, which still has him shaken. Theresa Russell plays his alcoholic and entirely-too-flirty-with-other-men wife, Trixie, who’s all but having it off with another officer (an officer that is the main source of ire for Grillo - or, in the words of Marty McFly “he’s an asshole!”). Theresa Russell also made an appearance in Spider-Man 3 as the Sandman’s wife, so there’s that weird little connection.

Oh and John Cho is here also. Another young face. He plays the owner of a comic shop and is Quentin’s only other real friend.

The movie follows Quentin as he undergoes his metamorphosis.

At first he tries to go the Spider-Man route by going after nasty people and saving Stephanie from being assaulted. He sets up a hidden security camera outside his apartment door and even starts sleeping on a hammock, mimicking spider/superhero behaviour. His senses become heightened and hell, he shoots webbing (not out of his hands/wrists though). But he also begins to get hungry and go through physical changes and his story slowly devolves into fighting with his nature and his humanity.

As previously stated, really none of the concepts in this movie are particularly new. You’ve seen it from The Fly (man is turned into big-ass humanoid insect and loses himself to it) to even Brightburn (what if Superman was evil and his gifts actually had a sinister nature to them?). Basic stuff when it comes to inverted Superhero stories.

However…

The way the movie itself goes about things is what makes it interesting, at least to me. It holds a 4.3/10 on IMDB and I don’t believe that’s entirely fair.

Horror, sci-fi, superhero flick with a dash of action and a mandatory splash of romance. With a little bit of cop stuff thrown in for good measure.

Now, I don’t know about you, but that sounds like an awesome time to me. Right up my alley.

The way the movie opens and how the music is initially orchestrated makes it feel very much like early Spider-Man comics. Kinda cheesy, very light and fantastic. And that’s how Quentin himself goes about everything at first. It’s only when he begins to change and the spider within him starts to emerge that the character and movie follow suit with its tone. Like everything becomes a tad pricklier as events goes on.

I won’t spoil the whole thing, not yet. I’m planning on making a video about it at some point (once I get my YouTube Channel up and running - please go and follow me, I’ve only got my early editing videos up right now, but I really would appreciate it, especially for what I’ve got coming up!). I’ll only go over general things for the moment.

Dan Aykroyd is really good in this. It’s a serious role for him, and he carries it so well. There are times when he has to get emotional and he performs it really well. You feel for him, especially when he’s interacting with his wife who has severely fallen out of love with him (to put it lightly), but he hasn’t given up on her yet. You kinda just wanna give him a big hug and tell him to drop her, cause she’s holding him back and he can do better. He plays the grizzled cop who isn’t seen as top notch anymore convincingly too. He carries a unique authority with him but there are elements of vulnerability when he lets his guard down behind closed doors. Honestly, Dan Aykroyd as an actor would not be the first person I would think of for a role like this off the top of my head, but he truly does excel here. Especially when he could’ve coasted and probably would’ve been fine. Not like this movie is something terribly high end.

Then it comes down the the main character, Quentin. The actor, Devon Gummersall, does an absolutely terrific job here. Before this, I hadn’t seen him in or known about him from anything else. He was in the show ‘My So-Called Life’, which I’d never heard of and has appeared in film and tv here and there, but, from what I can tell, nothing major. This is one if his, I believe, few starring roles and he really does do a magnificent job.

You believe him as this nice, kinda shy, very soft person who just wants to make a difference and gather up the nerve to ask out the chick down the hall who he’s been crushing on.

The movie starts with him getting ready for work, feeding his dog, chatting with the local homeless drunk and talking with Stephanie. He gets embarrassed when she does much of the biting back at the resident hoodlums who harass them and walks off on her (admittedly kind of a ‘really dude?’ moment). He feels like he doesn’t have any power or ability to truly fight back. And when his partner is killed during the break in at their work, he is completely devastated as he was quite close with the man. In an almost daze he walks into a destroyed lab that he and his partner had surveyed earlier (musing on the spider experiments), and lets himself get injected with the unknown stuff that the scientists had been pumping from one spider to another.

Not a great plan, typically.

Dude doesn’t know if that stuff would just completely melt his insides or give him a super-disease or what.

But, either way, the transformation is a slow one and, jumping ahead here, when we finally do get the physical parts, they’re pretty goddamn incredible.

I honestly wish there was more of them. They come in close to the third act and he doesn’t go full-spider until the last maybe fifteen minutes.

I wanted more. But hey, that’s just me.

The Fly doesn’t have a complete monster spectacle until the last ten minutes and that was pretty friggin’ awesome. But, I think the reason why I wish there was more in Earth vs The Spider, is because the transformation isn’t physical for the longest time here. Unlike The Fly. Not saying that’s a detriment. But I would’ve loved for the Stan Winston team to have flaunted their fantastic practical work a little more.

You see corpses in here too, emaciated like the fluids have been sucked out - they somewhat resemble mummies. This was cool and I definitely wanted more of it. Hell, a character even shoots himself to avoid this fate (being eaten). But we never see Quentin feed. We only ever see the aftermath. Personally, I would’ve LOVED seeing Quentin completely lost to his new and terrifying nature, feasting on helpless victims. I’m a sucker for monsters, what can I say?

The use of CGI, like I briefly mentioned at the start, is a little off, but thankfully applied sparingly.

As an example; there’s a moment when four Chelicerae (fangs, jaws, pincers - according to Wikipedia) forcibly grow out of his mouth. He’s looking in the mirror when this happens and we see it head-on in a really weird and fast CG effect. When we next see him, the actor has two practical appendages attached to his mouth (moving too). I’m happy they don’t rely on the CG. They employ it only when necessary.

All throughout the movie, Quentin makes you feel sad for him and even root for him much of the time. Sometimes you have to give him an eye roll or two, but for the most part, you’re on his side. And it is sorta heartbreaking when he starts to change (his behaviour, namely).

One criticism of Brightburn is that the personality change in the main character comes a little too swiftly, and there’s not enough transition.

I don’t believe that’s necessarily the case for Earth vs The Spider.

It’s not nearly as emotional or, for lack of a better term, deep as The Fly, but Quentin does start off as such a sweet person who’s just that little bit frustrated with life and his role in it. He’s innocent.

Even during his transformation, you can tell he’s fighting it and is frightened. He sends his dog to Stephanie at one point because he doesn’t want the little guy hurt.

There’s even a point where he asks out loud (to no one in particular) for someone to stop him. He’s hungry, he’s changing. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone but he’s slowly losing himself to his new nature. He hangs on to his humanity for as long as he can, but that doesn’t stop him from webbing people up and killing others.

On a somewhat lesser note, I feel like this guy could really thrive in the general Monster Fandom. Especially Monster Fkers. He starts out as a really sweet and bright-eyed guy, only to turn into a viscous creature who is tormented by his own self. His character is perfect for sympathy but also the thrill of fright.

Or maybe that’s just me.

[Wouldn’t completely classify myself as a Monster Fker, but I try not to discriminate either. Far as I’m concerned, enjoy what you enjoy - just don’t force it on others or bring others down because you don’t agree - so long as nobody’s getting hurt everything’s cool.]

((And if you’re into more submissive men like I am, that little moment in the movie when he’s lying down on his bed worried for Stephanie who’s trying to get into his apartment and his shirt is open so you can see he’s actually got chest hair and isn’t waxed…does certain things to you -just setting aside the fact that his stomach is mutating and pulsating and doing weird sh!t (lookin’ like a baby alien got lost) ~ or maybe you’re into that, I don’t know-))

Anyway, on another side note, been thinking of writing something for him.

Actually, been thinking of writing stuff for a ton of characters. I started out my internet interaction days writing FanFiction (no, I’m not going to direct anyone to it, I’d prefer to live in my preteen-to-teen shame by myself so that I don’t die early of embarrassment).

And I always enjoyed it, writing I mean, but I’ve been wanting to try my hand at actual reader inserts for the longest time.

My tastes in fictional men have tended to fall towards the severely underrated kind. So much so that there’s either nothing or very little for them out there (the movies or the characters).

I actually wrote a Duane Bradley from Basket Case reader insert little over a year ago. That’s another guy who doesn’t get nearly as much love as he probably should. It’s probably really clunky, but if anyone wants to read it, definitely let me know.

But yeah, anyway, back to Quentin.

I feel his character would do well in the monster loving community.

Doesn’t hurt also that the actor is pretty easy on the eyes too.

I personally did my Ace (Grey?) thing where I didn’t notice how cute he was until I started to like the character more (after watching the movie for the third time).

I’ve reached this point where the movie won’t leave my head and I’ve begun casually looking through the actor’s filmography to see if there’s anything else that piques my interest.

But yeah, anyway, I think that’s the majority of what I wanted to get out here.

The movies pretty damn good and I highly recommend you track it down.

I have the same need to bring this film to people’s attention as I do for Dead & Breakfast (2004) (that’s another fun flick).

So I will definitely end up making videos about both movies.

Hell, I might even do another breakdown post for Dead & Breakfast specifically just so I can get my core thoughts off my chest.

So, Earth vs The Spider (2001)…

What do you think about it?

Have you seen it?

Do you want to?

By all means, let’s discuss.

I’ve really come to love this movie and I hope I can bring it to more people’s attention!

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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JC adopts stray/rouge cultivators after the war au to cope with the destruction of lotus pier. also i love your writing so much!!

Gratuitously Acquired - ao3

At first, he took anyone who would join, needing numbers – needing people. There were plenty of cultivators that wanted to be associated with a great sect. Plenty, too, that were barely more than criminals, wanting to use the smoke and ash of war to obscure the past, to cover up old crimes and wash themselves clean.

Jiang Cheng wasn’t in any position to refuse them. Soldiers were soldiers.

After the war ended, though…

Some he cast out. Others, even more despicable, he slaughtered for what they’d done.

A few –

“Yan Qiao.”

The female cultivator in question, who had been sneaking out of the still mostly ruined Lotus Pier at night in flagrant violation of curfew, froze in her tracks.

“Uh,” she said. “Sect Leader Jiang. Fancy finding you…here…now…at this time…”

Jiang Cheng looked at the basket of buns in her hands. “You’re stealing leftovers from our kitchens to feed orphans among the common people,” he said. “Again.”

She blushed. “No one wants them now that there’s better available, Sect Leader! Really, they’ll only go stale, and then rot – and I never stole when it was the army eating them!”

“That’s not the point,” Jiang Cheng said irritably. “Tell me, how in the name of heavens did you really get branded as a criminal? Distributed too many alms? Did too much charity?”

Yan Qiao coughed, turning red. “I told you before, Sect Leader. I killed a man.”

“He must have done something particularly heinous, then. You’re shitat killing.”

“Now I am. Sect Leader, if you don’t mind…”

“You’re one of the ones who wants my surname, right?” he interrupted. “Consider it granted.”

Yan Qiao – no, he supposed he’d better start thinking of her as Jiang Qiao – gaped at him. “But…Sect Leader!”

“I’ve barely granted it to anyone, so you’d better live up to it, you hear me?” Jiang Cheng said in his best threatening voice. He’d been assured by several people that it was really quite threatening, anyway. “I don’t want any excuses. Now go feed your damn orphans, and in the morning I want a report on how you think we can do it in a more structured manner. I can’t have you sneaking off every night anymore! Now that you’re a Jiang, you’re going to have work.”

When they were done with war and started firmly on rebuilding, the Jiang sect’s name was firmly reestablished as a Great Sect once more, it was the opportunists that came.

Smiling faces, sycophantic voices, cowards one and all – like beetles crawling out of the woodwork, not willing to risk their lives, but willing enough to beg for scraps and advantages later on when it seemed safe enough to do so.

Jiang Cheng wanted to chase them all away, but his sect was still weaker than he wanted to admit, still rebuilding, still more army than civilian operation. They had valiant soldiers by the dozen, but they needed more than that. They needed administrators, supervisors, artisans, smiths, merchants, laundry-women…

They needed workers. The ones they got – well, cowards they might be, but skills they had.

He still rejected most of the worst of them.

Most.

“Bo Zhou,” he said, inspecting the surprisingly flush list of taxes they’d collected that quarter, and the man in question turned to grin unrepentantly at him. “You’d tell me if you were a con artist in a previous life, right?”

“A previous life, Sect Leader?” Bo Zhou said. He was still grinning, but then, he was always grinning. He had a crooked leg and an even more crooked heart, and he’d probably steal candy from little children if he happened to have a hankering, but he was amazing at getting people to do what he wanted. Too amazing, really. “Why limit yourself? What about thislife?”

“…Bo Zhou. Tell me you aren’t a former con artist.”

“I may or may not have had a sideline selling snake oil and protective talismans before I became a cultivator,” Bo Zhou admitted cheerfully, and Jiang Cheng pinched the bridge of his nose – less out of actual irritation and more to keep from actually laughing. The only person he knew that was more shameless than Bo Zhou was Wei Wuxian; he couldn’t wait to introduce them once Wei Wuxian stopped skulking around in wine shops long enough to get back to doing his job as Jiang Cheng’s head disciple and right hand. “Who would’ve known that making all those fake talismans ended up making me pretty good at making actual talismans when I became a cultivator? Really, who could have called that?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Who taught you how to cultivate, anyway? Can I – I don’t know – seek vengeance on behalf of the rest of the world or something?”

Bo Zhou rolled his eyes right back at him. Shameless! “Is this about the taxes? Just be happy I got them all!”

“I can’t just be happy! What if this money is stolen property?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sect Leader. They’re what we shouldbe getting, and from all the right people. You told me this was the right amount yourself!”

“Yes, but no one ever actually pays the full amount!” Jiang Cheng enjoyed the way Bo Zhou’s jaw dropped. “I just wanted to see if you could actually do it.”

“I’m hurt at your lack of trust.” Bo Zhou paused, considering. “Also a little impressed at you for keeping a straight enough face to trick me. Well done, Sect Leader.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “You too, Jiang Zhou.”

“It’s Bo…” He trailed off, comprehension arriving and speech departing, and this time he didn’t have a quick retort. He’d been nagging Jiang Cheng on and off for the Jiang surname for the last few weeks, more joking than anything else – he knew that Jiang Cheng hadn’t given his surname to the vast majority of the new people in his sect, only the very few he thought were worth it.

Jiang Cheng enjoyed the newly dubbed Jiang Zhou’s moment of speechlessness thoroughly, since he was moderately sure he wasn’t going to get another one anytime in the next – ever, possibly.

“You proved your worth and your trustworthiness,” he said, patting Jiang Zhou on the shoulder. It occurred to him that he should probably come up with a courtesy name for the man, although he wasn’t sure the man would want one. “Also, congratulations, you’re now the person in charge of tax collection. See if you can think up some new thoughts about supplementing our income, will you? We have so many costs, and I don’t want to rely on Lanling Jin more than I can help it, not like Gusu Lan…”

“Oh, really?” Jiang Zhou interrupted, abruptly excited. “I have so many ideas! How ethical do you want to be about this?”

Jiang Cheng paused. “…very?”

“Be reasonable, Sect Leader!”

“…moderately?” he tried, a little more desperately.

“I can work with moderately. I don’t suppose you’d accept ‘thin and barely plausible veneer’?”

“No.”

“Oh well. Moderately ethical it is!”

Most of the Jiang sect was slaughtered during the attack on the Lotus Pier. Disciples Jiang Cheng had grown up with his whole life, had expected to see by his side in the future, his friends, his family, even his petty childhood enemies – all gone.

Well, not all gone. There were some Jiang disciples that had been away from Lotus Pier at the time, whether on some errand or a night-hunt or other reasons; they rushed back to his side as soon as they could, of course, and formed the core of Jiang Cheng’s new Jiang sect. When he’d felt utterly alone, when even Wei Wuxian was missing, they had been there for him. They’d preserved their lives and then they’d promised them to him, and it wasn’t until they knelt before him that he really felt like a Sect Leader.

There was no way he could give any of them up now.

“Jiang Meimei, you can’t go,” he said, having completely abandoned all shame in favor of clutching at her robes as if he were a child. “I need you!”

“I’m not even a proper Jiang disciple!” she exclaimed, exasperated – or possibly just annoyed that her grand plan to sneak out in the middle of the night had been stymied by his ambush. “Just because my surname is still Jiang doesn’t mean I didn’t get kicked out, remember?”

“I thought you just left,” Jiang Cheng said, temporarily distracted. “No one ever really talked much about it, actually, but to the extent anyone did, they said that you’d decided that your inclinations were more suited to being a rogue cultivator. That you didn’t want to be weighed down by sect expectations –”

“Hah!” Jiang Meimei tossed her head. “As if it wouldn’t be better to be a roving sect cultivator than a rogue cultivator! I won’t deny that I had a fair bit of wanderlust in my youth –”

“You’re only ten years older than me, you’re not that old.”

“Shut up, brat.”

“You can’t tell me to shut up, I’m your sect leader.”

“You’re my baby cousin is what you are, and, again, I’m actually not part of the Jiang sect!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng argued. “You’ve been at my side during the entire Sunshot Campaign.”

“I wasn’t going to let my baby cousin get himself murdered, now was I?” Jiang Meimei sniffed. “But I’m still a rogue cultivator. They kicked me out when I wouldn’t accept a marriage, and I’m still firm on that.”

Jiang Cheng blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to be married? Really?” he asked, concerned. “But what about poor Liu Lingling? You shouldn’t be sleeping with her if you don’t intend to be serious about it! I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for the current project you’re working on to finish to find a matchmaker to exchange birth characters –”

“They wanted me to marry a man,” Jiang Meimei clarified, but her habitual frown had eased considerably; she looked almost on the verge of a smile. “A-Cheng, you’re being dense again. You’re the Sect Leader of a Great Sect now. You know that that means you need to have alliances, marriage contacts with other sects, and that means using your subsidiary branches.”

“Jiang Meimei, you’re the one being dense,” Jiang Cheng said. “You think I’d force you into a marriage? I don’t have subsidiary branches. I barely have a sect, even after all this time. I’m not Wen Ruohan, handing out my surname to anyone who wants it – I only give it to the ones that matter, the ones I want to keep, and those of you that actually share my blood are even rarer, even more precious. How could I give you away?”

Jiang Meimei pursed her lips.

“I really do need you,” Jiang Cheng said quietly. “You weren’t part of the Jiang sect at all, not really, but you still came to help me – you were there from the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign, and you’ve never strayed, never left. You’re my right hand. I can’t do without you.”

Jiang Meimei turned her head away. “It’s not that I want to leave you,” she said. “But becoming a rogue cultivator was hard enough the first time. I couldn’t rely on any of the things that I had always had, everything always changing. I was young and angry then, I could handle it, but things are different now. I’m less flexible, less compromising, older, more tired – I can’t just walk out on a whim and just rough it anymore. I have a girl who, yes, I want to eventually marry; I want to have children. I need certainty. Are you going to give it to me?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at his hands. He’d known it was going to have to come to this, but he’d been dragging his feet, not wanting to succumb to a reality that already existed. Had existed for longer than he wanted to admit, as if simply denying it would mean that it wasn’t the truth.

Like a child.

“Yes,” he said, though it tore his heart out of his chest to do it. “I will. Jiang Meimei…will you take the position of Head Disciple?”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t coming back. Jiang Cheng had already cast him out of the sect, just like Jiang Meimei had been, except in Wei Wuxian’s case it had been something that Wei Wuxian himself had demanded. He was living in Yiling now, and by all reports was quite happy there with his little Wen sect family that he’d picked over Jiang Cheng and all his family.

He was never coming back.

It was time to move on.

“Yes,” she said, and shoved her pack into his chest. “Now go unpack that for me. Consider it payment for driving me to extreme measures!”

“I’m your sect leader, you know,” he grumbled. “Officially, now. You could show me some respect.”

“Would you rather pay for my wedding down the line?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” And then, as he scurried over away, he shouted over his shoulder: “As if I wouldn’t be paying for it anyway! You think my Head Disciple’s going to be married in anything other than top style? Better start planning…”

“Don’t rush me! Brat!”

Jin Ling wasn’t surnamed Jiang, but he was the most important person in all of the Lotus Pier – and Jiang Cheng wanted to make sure everyone knew it. It hadn’t been easy for him to get the chance to help care for Jin Ling, especially here, so far away from home; Jiang Cheng had expected to barely be allowed to visit, to have to cool his heels outside of Lanling City begging just for a glimpse of him. Being able to take him home to raise for half the year, even if it was due to the dangerous infighting amongst Lanling Jin, was more than he’d ever dreamed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t clear that Jin Ling himself agreed.

“He’s still crying,” Jiang Cheng muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Surely he’s got to stop sometime? I mean, just – physically?”

“They say a boy resembles his mother’s brother,” Jiang Meimei said, echoing the gesture. “If he’s got your lungs and stamina, Sect Leader, we’re doomed.”

“I’m rethinking the whole having children thing,” Liu Lingling said blearily, having fallen asleep on her soon-to-be wife’s shoulder several times, only to be woken up by the next round of crying. “I need sleep.”

“Go get some, both of you,” Jiang Cheng ordered. When his cousin scowled at him, he scowled back. “I’m serious. If he keeps this up, we’re going to need to go into shifts. I can last a bit longer.”

“That’s a filthy lie.”

“It is not. Your sect leader has given you an order – get to it!”

It was a filthy lie.

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes when the crink in his neck grew too irritating to ignore, at which point he realized he’d been asleep – and, more importantly, that Jin Ling was somehow not crying.

He sat up with a start, suddenly terrified: had something happened to him? Had he been silenced forever? Had Jiang Cheng failed this one last duty he had to his sister?

“Shhh, little one,” someone was whispering, not far away. “Let me tell you the one about the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd, yeah? You seem like someone who’d appreciate stars. It all started –”

Jiang Cheng went to go look.

A teenage girl was rocking Jin Ling in her arms and telling him a story in murmured tones, and Jin Ling was yawning and trying to gnaw on her shirt. She wasn’t even a cultivator, as far as Jiang Cheng could tell. Her clothing suggested some level of poverty, her accent the countryside – how’d she even end up here?

He wasn’t sure he cared.

Jiang Cheng didn’t want to disturb her, but he did anyway; a shift of his weight, a scuffling of his feet, and the floor creaked. The girl jumped, startled, but luckily Jin Ling was already most of the way asleep and just grumbled a little instead of starting to screech.

“How’d you do that?” Jiang Cheng asked, nodding at Jin Ling. “Make him stop crying.”

“My mother had seven kids after me,” the girl said, answering automatically. “And her sister had six. Someone had to learn to deal with all those babies, and it ended up being me. Think it’s just habit after this long.”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t handle one baby. He couldn’t even imagine.

That’s when the girl seemed to remember herself, and bit her lip. “Uh, sorry,” she said, hanging her head. “I heard him crying and I couldn’t resist...I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be here. It was an accident.”

“How did you get here?” Jiang Cheng asked, because accidental or not, a security breach was still a security breach. “And who are you, anyway?”

“My name’s A-Hua. I’m here to work in the kitchens, just got hired this morning; the fourth cook is my uncle’s wife’s cousin, she got me a job, said it was a good place to start – I was trying to find my way out so I could go to the servant’s quarters to get some sleep, but then I got lost…”

More likely she’d decided it was better to try to stay somewhere indoors than go out in the pouring rain to try to find her way to the right set of quarters, Jiang Cheng thought to himself. “Give me your hand.”

“Uh. What?”

He ignored her stare, took her hand and felt her pulse. There was a little bit of natural talent there, though not much; she might, if she tried hard enough, become a cultivator, but she’d never be more than a servant.

Unless, of course, she did something unusual to impress someone.

“Forget the kitchens,” Jiang Cheng told her. “You’re hired on a provisional basis to keep an eye on Jin Ling.”

The girl nodded, eyes wide as saucers. “Can you – do that?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can. What’s your surname? You can’t go around being called A-Hua, we have at least seven people that I know of that go by that name.”

The girl looked distressed.

She probably didn’t have a proper surname. Some people in the countryside didn’t.

But they really couldn’t go around shouting “A-Hua” every time Jin Ling was crying, which was basically all the time.

“Fine,” he said, giving in. “Do well, and I’ll consider letting you use mine. But only if you do well!”

Jiang Cheng was covered in mud thanks to a successful-but-at-what-cost night hunt and angry about it, stomping around the lotus pools on his way back to town, when he heard the familiar sounds of someone having a panic attack.

He slowed, involuntarily, and took a look: it was some teenager dressed in black, heaving miserably by a tree.

Jiang Meimei had once said that Jiang Cheng was a bit weak when it came to teenagers.

Jiang Cheng said that was nonsense.

Jiang Hua chimed in, quite loyally (if perhaps not with the best timing), and said he wasn’t.

Jiang Cheng yielded the argument at once to keep Jiang Meimei from laughing herself sick.

In view of that, he was better off ignoring the kid. After all, what was it to him that some kid was having a fit of anxiety right next the same old lotus pool that he used to have his own teenage fits of anxiety next to, under the shade of the same old tree that had sheltered him – one of the few places that remained untouched by the Wen sect’s aggression, one of the few places that was exactly the same?

Jiang Cheng groaned and walked over. “Okay, fine. What’s your problem?”

The kid looked up at him. He had dark circles under his eyes. “I think my heart’s about to explode.”

“That’s just the anxiety,” Jiang Cheng said, and sat down next to him. “What’s causing the anxiety? Don’t say that someone is better than you and your parents are disappointed in you.”

“What?” the kid blinked. “No, it’s not – it’s not that. I’m about to screw up the very first job I ever got.”

Jiang Cheng considered that. It was just different enough from his own issues that he didn’t suspect a plot, and yet close enough that he might actually be able to offer some expertise.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked reluctantly.

“Not to some mud-man,” the kid said, and – hey! It wasn’t that bad. He thought, anyway. Actually, it probably was that bad. “I just…I’m the only one left. I have to make something of myself!”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched. “What do you mean, you’re the only one left?”

The kid stuttered through his story. It wasn’t as bad as Jiang Cheng had initially feared, but it was still pretty bad – his small village had had bad harvests, and there had been starvation, a bad winter; the kid had been sent out to get help, but it had taken too long and he’d arrived back to find them all already gone. He’d been lost, but some traveling cultivator had agreed to take him on as a disciple provided he proved himself, had taught him all sorts of skills, cultivation and talisman-writing and music –

“Music?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Not the sword?”

“There was only the one,” the kid explained. “Obviously he kept it for himself.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t think much of that – surely this cultivator, whoever he ws, could have shared, just long enough to teach? – but he didn’t comment. It seemed fairly clear that the kid didn’t actually think very highly of his teacher, although he was very earnestly trying to be appropriately filial.

It was a little cute.

“…and I was supposed to wait here for someone when they came by here, some fancy rich person, and then get them to follow me, but it’s been ages and no one’s come by at all!” the kid wailed. “I’m such a screw up!”

“You don’t even know who you’re waiting for?” Jiang Cheng asked, and the kid shook his head. “How were you supposed to get them to follow you, then?”

The kid scratched his nose. “My master said that if I showed off some of my cultivation, they’d follow me right away.”

Jiang Cheng suppressed a smirk. “It must be very impressive cultivation, then.”

“…not really. I only know one trick,” the kid admitted. “But it’s not that hard, and it looks impressive – here, see, wait; give me a second, I just need to whistle –”

Zidian crackled to life on Jiang Cheng’s finger before the kid finished the first stanza.

“Stop that!” he cried out, leaping to his feet, and – startled – the kid stopped, blinking owlishly at him. “Is that what your master taught you?!”

“Yes?” the kid said. “Did I do it wrong?”

Jiang Cheng gnashed his teeth. “That’s demonic cultivation. Never do that, okay? Ever.”

“But then how am I supposed to get the fancy rich person to follow me, assuming he ever showed?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed. If he hadn’t tripped over that branch and fallen into the mud – if he hadn’t taken an extra half-shichen to struggle out of the mire – if he’d walked by in all his usual finery, rich person that he was, and seen some kid practicing demonic cultivation…

He’d have given chase in a heartbeat.

More to the point, everyone knew he would. His reputation had been pretty much set in stone by this point.

“Let’s go find that master of yours,” he said. “Right now.”

Of course, that ended up leading Jiang Cheng straight into the bastard’s trap, which would have been a problem except that he’d taken the time to send someone to tell Jiang Qiao, who’d been waiting for him back in town, that he’d be a bit late and not to worry, just wait where she was.

She’d ignored his instructions and arrived just in time to knife the demonic cultivator – a human trafficker whose operations Jiang Cheng had shut down with extreme viciousness only a few months before – right in the belly, gutting him like a fish in a swift easy motion.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it again,” she said, smiling at the knife, and Jiang Cheng made a mental note to ask exactly how manymen she’d killed to get that criminal brand of hers, except the poor kid was sinking down to his knees with a horrified look and, shit, that horrible bastard, evil as he might have been, was probably the last person the kid had in this whole rotten world, wasn’t he?

“Does Jiang Hua still have those beginner manuals we dug up for her?” Jiang Cheng asked, and Jiang Qiao nodded. “Good. Tell her that starting today, Jiang Jianwen here’s her little brother. She’s been pining over raising someone ever since Jin Ling got to be too old to snuggle.”

The kid looked up with wide eyes.

“No, you don’t get a choice on the name,” Jiang Cheng told him. “Whatever name this piece of crap gave you, just forget it, you hear me? You can do better than him. But no more demonic cultivation!”

“I wish I could visit the Lotus Pier,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, looking wistfully downriver. They were very close by, but he still didn’t dare, even though Jiang Cheng had grumpily extended an invitation through Jin Ling. So much had happened – he just didn’t know where to even start.

He didn’t want to get into all that messy history with Jiang Cheng.

He just wanted to visit, that’s all.

He missed Jiang Cheng, but he missed the Lotus Pier, too. The food, the places, the air…

“I just need a secret way in that even the sect leader doesn’t know about,” he sighed. He’d once known them all – but there was a different sect leader now, and a different Lotus Pier. He couldn’t risk it: Jiang Cheng might find out that he’d snuck in and feel hurt, thinking that Wei Wuxian was avoiding him, when he was just avoiding the conversation; that would just make everything worse.

Lan Wangji would have distracted him, but Lan Wangji himself had been distracted – some man in Jiang sect colors with a heavy limp and an excited sort of air had rushed over, shouting something about wanting to talk about tax policy and possibly also games of chance, and Lan Wangji had all but fled. It had been so funny that Wei Wuxian had nearly laughed himself sick.

“I know one,” someone said, and Wei Wuxian glanced over: it was a young man in Jiang sect disciple robes, little more than a teenager – only a few years older than Jin Ling, if he had to guess. He was smiling, ducking his head a little; he looked proud of himself. “I mean, if you really want. But only if you don’t mean any harm!”

How adorable, Wei Wuxian thought, and grinned at him. “I just want something spicy without having to go through the whole process of greeting people, is that a crime?”

“Not at all!” the kid exclaimed, beaming, and Wei Wuxian almost felt bad for conning him. Almost.

“Do you really know a secret way in?” he asked, pretending to be doubtful. “Really?”

Sure enough, the kid – Jiang Jianwen, apparently, he must be the kid of one of the ones that survived the massacre – was easily lured into insisting that he did know, and then to agreeing to act as guide.

And, moreover, it turned out he really did know his way inside, which made this the easiest infiltration ever.

Or so Wei Wuxian thought right up until he felt a knife point touch his ribs.

“Well done, Jianwen!” a young woman – also in Jiang colors – said, reaching out and ruffling Jiang Jianwen’s hair.

“Aw, it was nothing,” he said, just as bashful as he was when he’d been talking to Wei Wuxian. “I couldn’t have done it without shixiong luring off Lan-er-gongzi.”

Wait, that’d been part of this, too?

That was worrisome.

“Hardly nothing,” the older woman standing behind Wei Wuxian said. She had a certain sort of rock-hard steadiness that was more worrying than the knife she was holding on him – she was a powerful cultivator, familiar with killing and scarred with a criminal’s brand, and yet she seemed entirely at ease in a way that suggested a strong sense of righteousness, with no guilt or weak points he might exploit to make an easy out. “You successfully conned the Yiling Patriarch into following you right into a trap.”

Wei Wuxian wondered if he could deny it.

“I don’t know, shijie, that doesn’t seem that hard,” the first woman said. “Isn’t he the kind of person to run head-first into danger at the first instance?”

“Head-first into danger, and like his tail’s on fire away from dogs,” the older woman agreed, and – damnit. There was clearly no denying it; they actually knew him. Though from where, he had no idea. “A-Hua, Jiangwen, let’s go – we don’t want to be late for our meeting.”

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to tell me who we’re going to go see?” Wei Wuxian tried, putting on his most charming smile. “Or, perhaps, who you are, and what you have against me…?”

“Jiang Jianwen you know,” the woman said, rather unexpectedly. “I’m Jiang Qiao, and this is Jiang Hua. Our shixiong is Jiang Zhou – he’s the one that makes Lan-er-gongzi lose his wallet every time he’s forced to visit Yunmeng.”

Wei Wuxian was almost distracted with the tantalizing prospects of stories about Lan Wangji. Almost.

“You’re all surnamed Jiang?” he asked, surprised: he might have believed it for Jiang Jianwen, maybe, he was young enough to be the son of someone in the last generation. But Jiang Hua and Jiang Qiao looked absolutely nothing alike either to each other or to Jiang Cheng, and at least Jiang Qiao was old enough that he should’ve recognized her if she’d been a Jiang. There’d been a lot of people in the old Jiang sect, even if you limited it to those surnamed Jiang, but he’d been Head Disciple back then – he’d known almost all of them.

“We’re adopted,” Jiang Jianwen said. He looked very proud. “Sect Leader Jiang took us into the family as part of the branch lines.”

Wei Wuxian had never once in his life wanted to have the surname Jiang, not even when he’d been mocked for not having it. He’d never even thought about it. Not ever.

He felt a stab of envy at the word family, though.

“He gave you his surname?” he asked, and tried not to feel jealous when they all nodded. “Oh.”

It made sense, he tried to tell himself as they walked through the back streets of the Lotus Pier. The Jiang sect had been demolished, and Jiang Cheng practically the only survivor but for whoever happened by coincidence to not be at home – the Jiang sect would need branch family members, and adoption made sense. There was no reason to resent the idea of Jiang Cheng giving the name he had always treated as being so precious to a branded former criminal, to a con man, to a commoner from the countryside, to a –

“You were a what?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed.

“A demonic cultivator,” Jiang Jianwen said bashfully. “Not a very a good one, though.”

Wei Wuxian wanted to say something to that. He didn’t know what, but something.

“Enough chatter,” Jiang Qiao said. “We’re here.”

Jiang Hua opened the door and Wei Wuxian stepped inside.

Then he tried to step back out, only to be crowded in by the others.

“No, no, no,” he said. “No, I was willing to play along until now, but this is a step too far. You don’t understand! She’s going to eviscerate me!”

Jiang Meimei – older than the teenager he remembered her being when she left the sect, but still unmistakable – grinned with her teeth bared.

“Oh good,” she said. “At least your brain is still working. Now come on and have a seat, and we’re going to talk about how you’ve been treating my baby cousin recently…”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #original characters #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #gratuitously acquired

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dainty-fingertips · 3 years

Text

hail 2 u! ||polnareff x fem! reader

HEY HI so im just kinda dumping stuff from google docs onto here to kind of establish myself so anyway heres my french bb wjhged;; also minor spoilers if you haven’t finished stardust crusaders!!

word count: 2449

summary: you and polnareff were teamed by dio himself and saved by jotaro in hong kong. polnareff is hit with a wave of guilt as you and the crusaders reach what joseph has said to be avdol’s father’s island. you follow him out onto the beach to try and comfort him, and while it seems to work, the enemy stand hiding nearby inside an old middle-eastern kerosene lamp has no intention of giving you both time alone. that is, until the frenchman makes a certain wish.

trigger warnings: none :)

He sat down on the chopped stump of a palm tree, his head in the palm of his hand. She had followed after him when he walked away, she knew he wouldn’t stop blaming himself for the death of Avdol. She approached him from behind with a worried look on her face. “Polnareff…” She said, softly. He turned around. “Oh, [y,n].” He said. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Mr Joestar and the others?” She stayed silent. She calmly walked toward the Frenchman and rested on a large rock to his right. “I couldn’t just let you go on your own.” She muttered, her face growing warm. “You know what happens when you’re left by yourself, anyway.” She smiled somberly, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled dryly. “Yeah, yeah.” He turned toward her a bit. Thankfully her weak attempt at humor had worked, as his expression seemed less dull. The wind picked up a bit, causing the afternoon sun to beam down a bit more harshly on the beach. He turned his head, and she followed suit. He squinted his eyes. “Hey, is that…?” She tilted her head. “It looks like…” He stood up and approached the shiny object, a dull gold hue peppering through a barnacle clad shell. She raised herself off of the rock and took a few steps forward, glancing around his side. “It’s pretty.” He said, his eyebrows raised.

He picked it up and examined it. “I wonder if it came from a shipwreck. Look at all of those barnacles.” She added, moving around and picking at it with her fingernails. “Hey, hey! Careful! You might scratch the gold underneath!” He said, holding it above his head and significantly out of her reach. “H-Hey! No fair, Pol!” She cried with furrowed eyebrows. He laughed at her futile attempts. “Yeah, right!” The two of them went through a solid minute of teasing, insulting, jumping, and punching (Three of those four were brought upon by [y,n], that is), it seemed that the strange object had been rubbing around in his hand quite a bit.

A sudden burst of blinding light beamed out through what was left of the barnacles and caused Polnareff and [y,n] both to panic, and him to drop it. They both stepped back, [y,n] opposite to him. An odd smoke rose out of the tip of what was now seen to be a kerosene lamp of sorts; similar to the one from Aladdin. Though, the smoke disappeared just as quickly as it had come, causing the two of them to look around confused. The light and smoke both were gone, but the lamp remained. Polnareff sighed after a moment. “Man! That was weird. Must’ve been pressurized air from inside.” He said, a hand on his forehead. [y,n] nodded looking to the left. “Would’ve been cooler if there were a genie, but, you’re right. Probably just gas.”

When she looked back, however, she panicked and pointed behind him. “P-Polnareff, look out! A Stand!” He jumped, his eyes widening. He took long strides toward her and whipped his head around. “What the hell?!” A peculiar looking Stand, one which appeared to be more industrial than some of the previous that the group had encountered. “Three wishes!” The Stand called, holding up an arm-like appendage; though it had only three fingers on each hand. “I will grant you three wishes! Whatever you wish is my command, master!” The Stand was gigantic, standing a solid 10 feet tall. “My name is Cameo. Thank you for letting me out of my lamp.” [y,n] glanced around, sweat sliding down her cheek. “Uhh, n-no problem.”

Though, it didn’t seem that Polnareff was ready to initiate conversation with the entity. “Another Stand user! [y,n], back me up!” She looked at him and nodded her head. Blossom Samurai and Silver Chariot, both sword wielding Stands, got into a sort of formation, with Samurai behind Chariot. They battered Cameo with their swords, but they barely did any damage. Chariots rapier was too weak, and Blossom’s attacks were only a mere second too slow causing Cameo to dodge with ease. “Son of a…” Breathed them both in unison. “You’re pretty strong!” Said Polnareff. “Your user must be close. Where is he?” Cameo crossed its arms. “Again, I’m here only to grant wishes. Do you want your first wish to be a lame one like that?” He groaned.

Polnareff granted. “Yeah, yeah, what is it with you and wishes, huh? Are you saying you can make me rich right now?” Cameo’s voice was unwavering. “Is that your first wish?” Polnareff relaxed a small bit, but was still on edge. “You know what? Sure, dumbo. Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.” Cameo’s arms uncrossed. [y,n] squinted. “Fine, then. Your wish shall be granted.” The two of them raised their eyebrows. “Huh?” Mumbled [y,n]. Cameo put its arms in an odd position, like a puppeteer would do, and raised its voice. “Hail 2 U!”

It immediately disappeared, causing them to blink a few times and watch the leftover smoke dissipate. Polnareff reached down and pulled the half buried lamp from the sand. Night had nearly fallen by now, but it was still visible. “What was all that about?” Polnareff asked in a confused tone. He sighed. “So…” she muttered. “What was that thing? Was it a Stand, or wasn’t it?” He shrugged. “If it is, what a weird Stand to send after someone.” He noted with a chuckle. She nodded her head. Damn these Stand users; she just wanted a chance to be with Polnareff. She excused the thought from her head with a bite of her lip. “Do you think maybe it’s got something to do with Avdol’s dad?” He shrugged his shoulders, the sunlight caressing his face in a way that would make anyone melt.

Her face got hot again. This stupid Frenchman has no idea what he’s doing, sending soft gazes her way. Every time he laughed, she felt like melting butter. She couldn’t help but look away from him with a coy grin. Polnareff chuckled. “Hey, what’s that look for? Come on, you don’t have to force yourself to look away. I know you think I’m hot.” He teased nonchalantly. She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Hah! As if, stupid.” She sent him a playful grin and stuck her tongue out. She was really hoping he didn’t actually know.

It was then in that moment, both of them smiling goofily at each other, that a noise was heard. “Hey, what was that?” He asked, turning around. “Sounded like metal.” She said, walking in the direction of the noise. It was near; maybe just in the grass 6 feet away. Polnareff followed suit, and lo and behold. “W-Whoa!” She cried, leaning in. “No way!” He yelled afterward. The two of them crowded around what appeared to be a half buried chest of doubloons, jewelry, and bejeweled goldware. “T-That’s real buried treasure!” He called, scooping a few coins out. “But how?” She asked, tuning her fingers through it. “Hell if I know! But this is all mine!” He laughed chaotically.

“You little—! I helped you find this, I get half! 50/50!” He snorted. “As if, stupid!” He retorted, mocking her previous statement. “Ooooh, I’m gonna kick your--!” Directly before she went for his money, Cameo’s booming voice echoed from above. “Now, what is your second wish? I shall grant it.” The two of them shot their gazes up to the Stand. Polnareff freaked and dropped the coins, to which [y,n] then picked up and stuffed in her pocket. “Y-You! Why are you doing this?! Whatever you have up your sleeve, I’m not falling for it!” He yelled up at the genie, perched in a palm tree. “I am keeping the gold though.” He added shortly after.

Cameo stayed silent for a moment. The only sound that could be heard was the wind blowing and the ocean rocking. “Is the answer to that question your second wish? As thanks for my freedom, I’ll give you anything, including such a stupid answer.” [y,n] huffed and nudged Polnareff. He looked down at her and his expression softened. “F-Fine, then.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I want to be a comic artist!” He exclaimed. The answer threw [y,n] for a loop completely. A comic artist? She had never known he was interested in art. In fact, the only interest he’d shown was when he’d watch her draw.

“I’ve always wanted to be one! And not just some starving artist, either! I want to be more popular than Walt Disney!” She furrowed her eyebrows with a stunned expression. “Huh?” She whispered. “Pol, I don’t think—“ he cut her off. “I want to create Polnareff Land!” He stood with his arms out in a comically dramatic stance, [y,n] in a stunned (and slightly embarrassed) silence at his side. “... Is this your wish?” Polnareff lowered his arms. “Actually, no, wait,” Oh thank God. She wiped metaphorical sweat from her forehead. Maybe he’d think of something more rational.

“I want a girlfriend!”

The phrase made her freeze in place. Her eyes were wide and her throat closed. He wanted a girlfriend, did he? He really must have just thought of her as a friend, then. She kept her mouth shut and kept her eyes on Cameo. What was she supposed to say to that? The words echoed in her mind. She wanted to love him like that so badly, but Polnareff seemed to feel otherwise. “Love is better than money or fame.” He said with a grin. At least he was sincere about that, she could tell. “She’s got to be really cute. I want a girl who’s my perfect match! Our pinkies entwined with the red string of love!” He held up his right pinkie finger for emphasis.

Polnareff had never made her feel so conflicted before. Her insecurities began to softly gnaw at her. Was she not cute enough? She felt like they were perfect for each other. She’d liked him since Hong Kong. Was this really happening? She simply kept her gaze on Cameo. She stared at it. What was it going to do? She thought genies couldn’t make people fall in love. “You want me to find the perfect match for you?” It asked him. “Yeah! Try that, bastard!” Cameo sat still for a moment. As she was staring, she noticed it turn its head slightly in her direction. It was looking at her.

She inhaled sharply. What was it doing? Cameo was completely silent for several seconds until it finally decided to pipe up. “Very well.” It turned its head back to Polnareff slowly. “Hail 2 U!” The Stand once again dissolved into smoke. Polnareff looked at his finger expectantly, and sure enough, there it was. She saw it too. The red string of fate. He grinned. “Oh, wow! I finally get to have my perfect girl!” He beamed. She stayed silent. He looked down at her curiously. “Hey, you okay? You’d usually have made fun of me or something by now.” She looked ahead and nodded. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. I’m happy for you, man.” Though she never once looked at him. Polnareff sighed. “Thanks, I’m glad too! Let’s see, where does it lead?” He held the string and noticed it went to his right. He looked in growing surprise to see [y,n] standing there, staring into the ocean with the most flat look he’d seen her sport, and a growing lump in her throat. Was she about to cry?

He wasn’t really sure what prompted him to do it. What made him want to look down first before pressing her on how she felt. Though he was sure glad he did; in fact, it was arguably the best decision he made during that 50 day trip. If he hadn’t taken a mere half second to glance down below her waist, Polnareff wouldn’t have caught the crimson string tied around her finger until a much later, possibly much more awkward time during their interaction. He felt his heart swell inside of his chest, sheer ecstasy causing blood to rush to his cheeks and make his face burn as if he himself were a bonfire of sheer emotion.

“H-Hey…” he began, reaching out with a shaky left hand. “Hm?” She looked over. She hoped the darkness of night would hide the tear that had dropped from her right eye and down her cheek. “[y,n], you, uh… your hand.” She slowly held up her left hand and stared in shock at the string around her pinkie. “That’s— that’s the-“ she quickly turned to look at his hand. Sure enough, the two were bound. Polnareff soon grew a stupid grin. “Well, well. Look at that.” The utter euphoria she experienced in that moment went unmatched with anything else she’d ever felt. “We-“ she choked back another sob as more tears fell. She covered her mouth and shut her eyes.

Polnareff freaked out. “H-Hey!! You okay? [y,n], c’mon! I’m not that bad!” He joked. “You idiot!” She called, throwing her arms around him. “You scared me!” She heaved into his shoulder. “I thought- I thought you didn’t—“ she shakily said. He chuckled. “Hey, hey! Calm down! If you’re wondering if I didn’t like you, you’re not just wrong. You’re stupid.” He grinned softly. She giggled like a little kid on Christmas. “I was so afraid when you said you wanted a girlfriend.” She said, pulling away. Polnareff put his arms around her waist.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough.” She laughed awkwardly. “I only said it because I thought you didn’t like me.” She noticed a glimmer in Polnareff’s eye; he was crying too. “O-Oh, Pol, you-“ before she could say another word he pressed his full lips against hers in a brief kiss. “Shut up.” He laughed, tears smeared on her face. She snorted and wiped his cheek. “I’ve liked you for so long. Ever since Hong Kong.” He scoffed playfully. “Ever since Dio paired us, you little snail. Did you just ignore all my little attempts to go on dates with you?” She giggled. “I didn’t wanna take it the wrong way. You never actually asked, idiot.”

“Well, how about this.” He cleared his throat and laughed again. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” She nodded with a dumb grin. “Yes, yes, of course, dumbass.” She leaned up for a kiss and he returned the gesture. “Let’s beat the hell outta this guy and regroup, okay?” He smiled. “My pleasure.”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jjba sdc #stardust crusaders #jean pierre polnareff #polnareff jojo #jean pierre polnareff x reader #polnareff x reader #jjba part three #jotaro kujo #muhammed avdol #joseph joestar #noriaki kakyoin #iggy jjba #jjba fanfic #this is old but idc #i think its cute so HAH #x reader #anime x reader

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obsidiancreates · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Realization (But A Welcome One)

4,012 words long

-----------------------------

Jonah wakes up with a headache like he’s got a hangover. He groans, putting his arm over his eyes as the dim light of his bedroom tries to burn out his retinas. Even with all of his thickest curtains closed and fastened together, the sunlight is still too harsh. Must be the way it’s reflecting off the snow.

He falls out of bed more so than gets out of bed, and lays on the floor for a moment. He reaches up to his nightstand and manages to pull down his phone, which bonks him on the temple on it’s way down. That gets him to wake up, with a shout and a dash of fight-or-flight response.

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. He doesn’t even feel very rested! Granted, he did stay up most of the night listening to a new podcast he discovered... fascinating stuff, wonderful deep-dives into mythologies and legends from all over the world. Something a little lighter to relax to than his usual political commentary go-tos.

He stands up, and scrolls through his playlist until he finds a good morning podcast. He heads into the bathroom, ready to grapple with his hair to get it nice and presentable-

He looks into the mirror and freezes up. His hair is perfect. Exactly how he always strives to get it to look, and always falls just one stray strand short of. But now? Not a flyaway in sight.

“I could have sworn I took a shower,” he mumbles to himself. Maybe he just forgot to use shampoo? No, he would never. Maybe too much conditioner, then. But he’s always so careful not to overuse...

“I guess it saves time,” he says aloud. “No looking a gift horse in the mouth.” He picks up his toothbrush and gets to scrubbing, but pauses when he feels something stringy in his mouth.

He spits out the toothpaste foam, expecting a hair.

Instead, it’s a scraping of plastic from his toothbrush, and several bristles.

He stares for a moment, and then opens his mouth. Does he have something completely alarming stuck in his teeth? Did he somehow eat something metal?

... No, not as far as he can see. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Absolutely nothing. Completely fine.

On an unrelated note, the two little cuts in his lower lip that are perfectly aligned with his canines are starting to sting from the mint, so he hurries up and finishes brushing his teeth.

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The sun blinds him as he drives to work, and he has to manage mostly by listening to the traffic around him (which is absurdly loud today, he can hear it with his windows rolled up).

And the sunlight is harsh on his skin, too. Does he need to invest in better sunscreen? Maybe he should revisit that article he read about SPF effectiveness and how to choose the best one...

He gets into the parking lot and parks his car. He opens the door, and promptly slams it shut again with a yelp. His hands didn’t just feel burnt, it did burn!

Definitely needs to up his SPF! And research sudden sunlight sensitivity... his hand is bright pink.

He sits in the car for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. And then there’s a knock on his window. He startles, but relaxes when he sees it’s just Glenn. He rolls his window down just a bit. “Um, hi. Good-good morning, I mean.”

“Heyyyy, Jonah,” Glenn says with a smile. “So, um, I noticed you’re stuck in your car?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, no, I just um. Well you see I-I, um-”

“Need a hand?” Glenn’s smile is a bit strained, for some reason. “Because of the sun?”

“... Well I mean if-if you’re offering then it would be... rude to say no...”

Glenn opens up an umbrella, making Jonah shout in surprise. “Where did that-”

“Come on in under the shade!”

Jonah hesitates a moment, put off by Glenn’s... odd, energy. But he can’t stay in his car forever, so he gets out and walks in with Glenn under the safety of the umbrella.

“Thanks,” he says when they get inside. “I just um, I need to update my sunscreen, you know? And I just didn’t want to risk... my skin...”

“No, no, I completely get it,” Glenn assures. “The warm, life-giving rays of the sun can be very harsh sometimes!”

“... Y-yeah. Yeah.”

“Hey, um, Jerusha and I got you a gift, actually. She was so upset by the whole attack thing yesterday-”

“Oh, you guys didn't have to get me something-”

“Well, we wanted to, so um, here!”

Glenn hands Jonah a very, very wide-brimmed hat. There’s a little bat needle-pointed onto the sides.

“Oh! Wow! Um, it’s... so big!”

“Maybe it’ll help until you update your sunscreen?” Glenn sounds hopeful. Too hopeful for Jonah to turn down. And... it would be functional, at least...

“Yes! Yes, I think this’ll be great for that, um, thank you! Thank you both, send Jerusha my-my thanks. For this. I can um, see she put some effort into customizing it! Just-just out of curiosity... why a bat?”

“Oh, well um, because of your situation.”

“... Situation, I don’t-”

“You know. The reason you burned?”

“... I still don’t understand-”

“HEYYYY, GUYS!” Amy butts in quite enthusiastically. “How’s it going this morning?”

“Oh, good!” Glenn says with a smile and a nod. “I was just giving Jonah this hat Jerusha made for him, because of his whole condition about being a vam-”

“OH HEY, Glenn, I actually really need your help with something!”

“Really?”

“Yes! Come over here, with me, to... softlines!”

“Oh, okay. I’ll talk with you later, Jonah!”

“Okay! Buh-”

Amy drags Glenn away, leaving Jonah with his hand up in an unfinished wave.

“... Bye. I-I was saying... bye.”

Jonah looks at the hat, and heads off to the breakroom.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So does Jonah have them?” Cheyenne is saying when Jonah enters the room.

“I mean, he looked like he did when he was chasing that lady-”

“Do I have what?”

Mateo and Cheyenne startle. “Oh, Jonah! We didn’t see you there! You were like... really, quiet,” Cheyenne says with a slightly strained smile.

“Yeah. So... sneaky.” Mateo looks similarly stressed.

“Well I, I did just get new ultra-soft shoes, very comfortable but I’m not sure about the long-term arch support... but um, what do I have?”

“Um... standards, for your fashion. Sometimes you have them, sometimes you don’t... usually only when you’re chasing, after... someone to flirt with.”

“Oh. ... You-you thought I was trying to flirt with that woman, last night?”

Cheyenne shrugs. “You did literally chase her into the parking lot.”

“I-I guess I did. But I wasn’t attracted to her I mean, I wasn’t attracted to any customers yesterday, even though there were a few good looking ones, that made me laugh... but-but I’m not- I mean, I wasn’t flirting with anyone-”

Jonah babbles on for a good five minutes before Glenn finally comes in and starts the meeting.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah sighs and rubs his eyes as he mops up a puddle of... it’s either slushie vomit or watered-down blood (though he’s leaning towards slushie vomit, something in him just says it definitely isn’t blood).

He leans against the mop and closes his eyes for a moment. So tired... he felt okay this morning, but as the day creeps on he feels less and less awake...

“Excuse me?”

Jonah startles, yelping and dropping the mop. The customer jumps back as the mop drops.

“I am so sorry!” Jonah exclaims. “I um, I-I think I feel asleep, um, how can I-”

Jonah pauses, at a loss for words.

The customer, a man around Jonah’s age, looks concerned. “You alright, man?”

“Huh?” Jonah’s face feels hot (the first bit of warmth he’s felt in two days). “Oh, um, I-I just, that was very unprofessional of me.”

The customer shrugs. “It’s a Cloud 9, professional isn’t really expected.”

Jonah chuckles. He clears his throat. “So, um, how can-can I help you?”

“I was looking for the recycled paper towels?”

“Oh, yeah, um... let me help you find those. They’re only half recycled, though.”

“I know. But you do what you can on a budget, right?”

“Right, yeah,” Jonah laughs. He can’t stop looking at the guy’s face... why does he feel all jittery?

“Um, here we are. The closest Cloud 9 gets to activism.” Jonah sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. His mouth feels dry. Why is his mouth so dry? He licks his lips quickly while the customer isn’t looking.

“Better than I’ve been doing lately. Haven’t done a protest in months.”

“What kind of protests do you go to?” Why did he say that? He’s going to embarrass himself, oh no-

“Mostly wage labor ones, workers rights kind of things. Trying to get a union going at my job.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, well, I know unions don’t have a great reputation in a lot of places but-”

“No! I mean uh, I love unions! I-I’ve been wanting one here since I started working! Just uh, don’t tell my boss that, hah.”

The customer smiles at Jonah, and Jonah wonders if the floor actually fell out from under him or if that’s all in his head.

“Well, thanks for helping me find this. Maybe we can talk about helping each other’s unions efforts if I see you again.”

“Yeah!” Jonah flashes a bright smile. “Sure! Sounds-sounds great! Um was really nice to meet you!”

The customer smiles again and walks away, and Jonah needs to lean against the isle.

He lets out a heavy breath, wondering what the hell is going on and what he is feeling. He looks down the isle to see if anyone is watching him.

Mateo, Cheyenne, Marcus, and Dina are all staring.

Jonah quickly walks away, shame burning his cheeks. So they noticed something, too.

“-looked like he was about to eat him alive-”

He’s too busy being completely embarrassed by hearing them whisper that to wonder how he just heard it from three isles away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah wakes up with a start as a cart rolls right over his leg. He shouts in pain and surprise, and then sighs at himself.

He peels the glue trap off of his face with a grimace. Cleaning the rat traps is a terrible time for his sudden and new case of what seems to be narcolepsy to strike. He sits up and rolls up his pant leg, expecting something nasty to greet him based on the crack he heard.

... Nothing. He frowns, and touches his leg. It doesn’t even sting.

“How did-”

“Jonah?”

Jonah looks up at Amy’s voice. She’s standing over him with a clipboard. “Oh, um... hi.”

“Hey. ... Why are you on the floor?”

“I was uh, cleaning the rat traps. And I... maybe fell asleep.”

“In the middle of the day?”

“... Yes...”

“Okay then. ... So um, I just... wanted to check in, for a minute. How’s it been going with customers?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean, have there been any... notable interactions, maybe, to throw an idea out there,” Amy says in her ‘I’m-hiding-the-real-reason-for-asking-this’ voice.

Jonah’s cheeks burn, and he’s sure he’s blushing. “They told you about that?”

“I... might’ve heard some gossip.”

“It-it was nothing, Amy. Really.”

“Are you sure? They said you keep looking at his neck-”

"Well I mean, he had a nice neck I-I guess but I was more looking at his face-”

“And that you licked your lips at him?”

“That-! My mouth was dry, and-and you know I hate chapped lips!”

“... And the hovering over him?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say hovering, more like just watching and... admiring... but that-that’s normal! I’ve been doing that since high school! A good ally normalizes these things, and-and when straight men, yeah, can admire other men in a-a completely! Normal way! Then it um, it helps... break down! The stereotypes!”

Amy looks... perplexed. She shakes her head. “Wait, what are we-”

“I mean, everyone does it, too! Like-like you! I’m sure you’ve looked at-at other woman, and admired their appearance, without feeling feelings for them, right?”

“Well, I guess, but- wait, Jonah, did you-”

“I mean we all wonder in college, right? But I don’t like, I mean there’s nothing wrong with liking both I just- I don’t, I wondered but I never-”

“Okay, um, this isn’t what I came over here to talk to you about-”

“Maybe there was a moment or two where I thought it might’ve been a thing but I-I never acted and if I did like both I would have acted on that, I think-”

“Okay! Um, you’re working through something right now, that is, not what I thought you were working through, so um, I’ll just check up on you later...”

Amy backs away as Jonah keeps recounting half-baked thoughts and unfinished sentences about his time in college and his roommates one friend who maybe had the best hair Jonah’s ever seen but their friendly hair-war was not flirting he swears...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah doesn’t chew the carrot, just rolls it in his teeth as he stares at the wall, lost in thought.

“... Not hungry for you lunch?” Sandra asks tentatively.

Jonah shakes his head, only half-hearing her.

“... Are you hungry for something else? Like... a customer?”

Jonah stops, and pulls the carrot out of his mouth. “You heard about that too?”

Sandra’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head.

“You did! Did- does everyone know about that?”

“Well, it-it’s been sort of, floating around-”

Jonah groans, putting his head in his hands.

“... So um... are you?”

“What? No! No, I am not hungry for him, that’s objectifying. Not that I- I mean, I’m a straight man, I can’t, objectify another man, because that implies attraction. ... Unless I’m playing into toxic masculinity stereotypes by believing that...”

“I don’t think you have to worry about falling into masculinity stereotypes,” Carol pipes up from another table.

Jonah looks at her, annoyed. Her eyes widen and she looks away.

Jonah puts his head back into his hands. “This is a nightmare...”

“For all of us,” Sandra whispers.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah sighs, slumping over onto the customer service counter. Garrett just looks at him, waiting for whatever Jonah has in store.

“... It normal for straight guys to admire other straight guys appearances, right?”

Garrett blinks. “Wow, just some casual conversation, huh?”

“Just- I mean, I know people are talking about-”

“You eyeing up that dude earlier like he was a steak?”

“... Yeah. That.”

“Dude, I don’t think this is the issue you should be focused on right now.”

“I know, I know! I’m in my thirties, I should have this figured out and be focusing on more important things-”

“Not what I meant, actually, I meant the superpowers-”

“-but I don’t know, I’ve never really had anyone point it out before! And-and now I can’t stop thinking like, am I? Attracted?”

“You know there’s nothing wrong if you are, right?”

“Yes, I do, I’ve been to a bunch of rallies and stuff.”

“Did you oogle dudes at those rallies?”

“NO! ... I mean I guess I observed and-and appreciated-”

“Yeah, you might just be on the gay spectrum, dude. I don’t know what else to tell you. Except that, uh, you just accidentally slapped my shoulder and you’re as cold as a bag of ice, so maybe that should be your crisis of the day.”

Jonah is staring off into space, rubbing his arm. It doesn’t seem like he heard Garrett at all. Garrett just sighs, and rolls away.

Jonah stays there, contemplating, for quite a while.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Okay, no more dancing around it.”

Jonah jerks awake. Again. God, why can’t he stay awake? ... Probably because he stayed up all night.

“No, Cheyenne.”

Jonah looks around. He peeks into the next isle, and then the next.

... Where the hell are Cheyenne and Amy? He can hear them so clearly...

“He’s like, totally oblivious to it!”

“He’ll realize it eventually, okay? It’s not some truth bomb we can just drop on him.”

“My friends drop truth bombs on me all the time, and it just brings us closer. Best bitches don’t lie to their best bitches.”

“... Right. But, it’s kind of something for him to take the time to process.”

“What if he doesn’t? He’s just gonna like, wander around forever making excuses and being all nervous and confused.”

“Well... then we’ll give him a push. But for now let’s just... give him some space. Let him come to terms with it on his own.”

Jonah is startled out of his accidental eavesdropping by hearing himself sniffle. He quickly wipes his eyes, sticks his hands in his pockets, and hurries away. He still doesn’t know how he heard them, maybe some kind of really weird echo or sound tunnel. So he goes to the other side of the store entirely and finds the chattiest customer he can.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He can feel Dina and Mateo staring at him as he restocks softlines. They whisper to each other, and he sighs and hangs his head. “You know, it makes it worse when you talk behind my back.”

Mateo yelps a little. He clears his throat and quickly composes himself. “Sorry. Uh, we were just talking about-”

“Yeah, no, I know. I’m... aware, okay? And I just would like to stop hearing about it for now, please.”

Mateo looks taken aback by the tiredness in Jonah’s voice, the... weary tone. Dina, however...

“Yeah, well, not exactly something to brush under the rug.”

“Why do you even care? It’s a me problem, okay?”

“Really? You think this doesn’t impact everyone?”

“How! Would it even do that?!”

“Well, let’s see! It made Mateo afraid, it made Amy all somber and worried about you, it made Glenn cry even more than usual-”

“It did?”

“He started a trust fund for your soul.”

“... Oh.”

Dina stops, her frown slowly becoming more confused. “You... didn’t realize that would happen?”

“... I don’t know, I guess I thought... thought he’d be more open-minded.”

“Glenn?”

Jonah takes a deep breath. Ugh, why’d it make his chest hurt? Why do his lungs feel like they don’t want the air?

The next thing he knows he’s done with softlines (it felt like he got done in the blink of an eye) and walking away. He swallows down the lump in his throat, and the urge to comfort eat. God, he’s craving a snack now. Well, he has all day, but he’s been... a little distracted.

“Excuse me? Hello? Hey!”

Jonah looks up at the customer, still feeling drained and empty.

“Finally, god. How useless do they let you people be around here? I’m looking for the shock collars, my dog keeps licking me when I tell him not to.”

“... That’s a really, really shitty thing to do to your dog.” Jonah doesn’t really mean to say it, but he’s just sort of on autopilot now.

For some reason, the customer doesn’t reply. Just stiffens.

“Follow me. I’ll sort you right out.” Jonah thinks he smiles at them. But he can’t be sure, because at that moment he blacks out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah shrugs his coat on, not looking anyone else in the eye as they all file out to clock out.

He waits until the very end, and clocks out last. Maybe he can avoid them all by waiting long enough?

Ugh, he can’t. He feels restless. Looking like another sleepless night already. Two in a row, great. Maybe that’s why he had that blackout. He still isn’t sure where the customer went, nor how he ended up in the No-Go zone of the Gardening Section...

Whatever. They were a jerk, anyway. Maybe he talked some sense into them? He did that during a blackout yesterday. Maybe it’s stress, then?

He keeps his head down as he thinks about it (trying to avoid some other, more introspective thoughts) and walks out.

He lifts his head as he exits the breakroom to find everyone standing in a group, smiling softly.

“Um... what’s going on?” He claps his hands behind his back. Please don’t let this be more teas-

“We know we’ve made you uncomfortable today,” Mateo pipes up. “And after talking to Garrett about your guys’s conversation, we realized we had the totally wrong idea about everything.”

Glenn steps forward and hugs Jonah. “I accept you no matter what,” he says firmly. “I would never start a fund to save your soul for being gay, that was a complete misunderstanding! You like whoever you like, Jonah!”

“And I didn’t mean to badger you,” Dina admits with her shoulder a little sunk. “I didn’t quite understand what you were going through in your head, and I made some assumptions. Wrong ones.”

“We all care about you, Jonah,” Amy says, prying Glenn off of the poor man. “Okay? We just want you to know that. Today we were being really, really shitty. But it won’t happen again.”

For the second time today, Jonah isn’t aware he’s crying until he hears himself sniffle.

“I just- I feel really, really stupid,” he admits, wiping his eyes with his palms. He laughs, not quite bitterly, but not happy. “I mean, I’m in my thirties. I-I had... so many obvious moments where I should have realized! How... oblivious, am I?”

There’s a bit of an awkward air to the group after that comment. But Amy hugs Jonah, and he feels a little... spark, in his chest. It’s nice.

His chest has felt pretty heavy and empty all day.

“Everyone comes to terms with stuff at their own pace,” Amy says. “I lived in an unhappy marriage for years because I couldn’t accept the obvious. What matters is that you got to this point of realization, okay?”

Jonah hugs back. He thinks he feels Amy shiver, but he brushes past it. They pull apart, and Jonah sniffs and wipes his eyes again.

“And I um. I-I don’t think I’m... fully, gay,” he says slowly. He hesitates, mouth open, the words stuck. “I think... I think I’m Bi.”

There’s a moment of silence. He smiles a little, and stands a bit straighter. That feels... really right. “I think I’m Bi,” he repeats.

Sandra claps for a second, but no-one joins in. She lowers her hands slowly.

“Wow! Hah! That feels- wow! God, that feels good! Um,, what-what now, though?”

Garrett shrugs. “Flirt with some dudes? Some people in-between dudes and chicks? I don’t know, man, it’s your life.”

“Your long, long life,” Dina mutters to herself.

“Right! Oh, yeah, uh... that guy! From earlier! I-I think I want to see him again. Okay, uh, I’m going to go home, and-and maybe research some local protests he might be at-”

Everyone groans a little.

“Protester Jonah is the preachiest Jonah,” Garrett says, shaking his head.

“Can he still be preachy? Wouldn’t that hurt?” Cheyenne whispers to Glenn.

Glenn shrugs. “I’ll ask Pastor Craig,” he whispers back.

Jonah doesn’t even notice. “Okay! I’m going to head home! I kinda feel like, I don’t know, like this is a whole new chapter in my life! Um, how do we- I mean how do- do we do a group hug, or-or maybe a high-five-”

“Or we just head home.”

“Yeah, no, Garrett’s right, head home. Let’s all head home!”

They all head out to their cars. Jonah gets into his, plops down into the drivers seat, and grins.

What a freeing realization! He doesn’t know how he missed it, it was all so obvious!

Well, as far as he knows, there’s no other huge life-revelations waiting for him. He’s figured it all out, finally.

He starts driving home, humming along with the radio as the car next to him keeps pace, despite being in the faster lane. He never understands why people do that when the roads are empty. He chuckles to himself. Maybe he’ll realize that Life Mystery tomorrow.

What he doesn’t realize, neither when he gets home nor when he wakes the next morning, is that he never turned his own radio on.

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narukoibito · 3 years

Note

St. Mungos, since feeling is first who pays attention and Muggle FWB for the WIP Game?

Thank you for the interest, Anon! This took a while because things in my personal life are in chaos, but thank you for the request.

St. Mungos

This is my Healer!Ginny story that has been lurking in the back of my brain since last year. I’ve written a good amount of words, but then an entirely different plot appeared and now I may have to rewrite most of it, hence it’s lack of progress. But I still really want to finish this one day.

Ginny is a Healer on the 4th floor of St. Mungos. Her first patient is someone named Harry Evans. (This is a Harry never to Hogwarts story.)

The first thing Ginny notices is his eyes. They’re the most vivid, bright green that she’s ever seen. It’s unnerving how unseeing they are. A pressure builds up in her chest, an aching pain and nostalgia she can’t place.

The morning light from the window washes over his face, dancing off these round wire-rimmed glasses. His dark hair (black like a blackboard) appears to be on some ineffable scale of entropy — tousled and pointed in every which way, yet somehow it’s charming and works well with his sharp, unconventional features. Some of that hair spills over a bandage wrapped around his forehead.

But it’s also the pleasant, vacancy in those eyes that strikes her, like she’s looking at the embers of a once bright flame. He looks like an innocent, half-lost child, his lips curled in a ghost of a smile.

Her clipboard and supervisor tell her his name is Harry Evans. The name creates an itch at the back of her head, something she wants to scratch at, but the odd sense of nostalgia must be misplaced significance. He’s her first real patient.

He must matter to someone important to have his own room on the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s Ward 49. Usually they lumped all the long-term spell damaged patients in one place, let them wander under the supervision of one Healer. But this room is spacious and private, protected by complicated wards and concealing charms. Someone really cares about Harry Evans, and for some reason it causes a subtle burning behind her eyes. Maybe it’s because he looks like a newborn fawn.

Who wouldn’t want to protect him?

“You’re new, but he’s not difficult. It’s mostly maintenance,” her supervisor says. “He makes it easy, don’t you, Harry?”

Harry’s gaze drifts toward the window.

Ginny scans his file. It’s actually surprisingly thick, but a lot of it has been redacted. The summary page sums it up though: he’s twenty-one; he has been here for three years; the diagnosis is vague (severe curse damage); there’s a long slew of attempted cures, none of which were successful obviously; now it’s about making sure he’s comfortable whatever that means.

“All right, let me know if run into any trouble.” Her supervisor is already starting for the door.

“Um — what about — I know his treatment is maintenance, but can I…?” Ginny’s not sure what she’s trying to say exactly. Harry Evans has seen a lot of Healers if the list of attempted cures is any indication, but she gave up Quidditch to become a Healer in the long-term spell damage ward specifically because she wanted to do something.

Her supervisor gives her a rueful smile.

“Stick to maintenance. Harry Evans is a special case.”

Ginny turns back to Harry, who is facing her again, looking painfully innocent.

Somehow she doesn’t need convincing that he’s special.

since feeling is first who pays attention

This was a gift for the Harry/Ginny Discord Incognito Elf exchange. I managed to finish in time to gift it, but I want to take some additional time to rework it before posting. It is missed moments over the years as Ginny and her feelings for Harry evolve.

Ginny presses her face against the wall, peeking between the stair spindles. Her bright brown eye lands on the two boys hunched over a chessboard. Her brother Ron and Harry Potter, who, despite appearing to be losing, doesn’t look the least upset.

Harry Potter.

The Harry Potter is in her house. Looking comfortable on their couch despite the faded, mended cushions. His face crinkles in laughter at something Ron says, his green eyes bright with contentment. Ginny doesn’t miss the occasional look of awe at the things she’s always taken for granted. It’s almost as if he can’t believe he is really here.

He isn’t what she expected – isn’t what she imagined he would look like after all those years listening to Mum recite her favorite bedside story, about the heroic Savior of the Wizarding World. She had pictured neat hair, a dashing smile, someone who would recognize a comrade in her and take her on all sorts of adventures. He would be different, he wouldn’t discount her dreams of flying and doing everything her brothers could and more.

Instead, Harry Potter has the messiest hair ever, a sheepish smile, and clothes that he nearly swims in. Oh, and he has somehow missed the memo and found the comrade in her brother Ron instead.

Her fingers curl around the spindle. Not for the first time, a spike of envy shoots through her. If only she were a little older or a boy. Then maybe she would be the one playing chess with Harry. Maybe she would be the one to hide under his invisibility cloak and battle trolls and face You-Know-Who with him.

Ginny presses her face a little closer and lets out a sigh.

But Harry Potter is kind. He ignores all the times she has made a fool of herself. And he has the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. They are as green as those glowing jars of pickled toads at the Potion ingredients store Mum had taken her to. Pretty and kind and not dismissive of her patched clothes or her glowing red face.

Harry Potter. If he likes Ron, if he looks like he actually likes the Burrow, if his face grimaces at the attention at Flourish and Blotts, could it be possible that one day he could like her too?

Muggle FWB

Hah, so this was the first idea that I rambled off to my beta, which ended up with long, long emails back and forth on this idea that I never wrote! Here’s a snippet of that exchange:

Harry thinks he only see Ginny as a little sister, so when she suddenly proposes that they become friends with benefits in uni, he’s floored and says they’re practically family. Blinded by her anger over the rejection, she kisses him so that he knows what he’ll be missing. Of course, he then realizes his attraction to her. As their physical relationship progresses, they develop feeeeeeelings (gasp!). But Ginny thinks she only wants a physical relationship and once they have sex, it'll get out of her system. Harry has to work to convince her that she actually wants more.

But the backdrop is that Ginny doesn't think she wants more than sex is that when she was 11, she was kidnapped by Tom Riddle for as a kid (they met at the park a lot, and none of her brothers/Harry/anyone realized he'd been "befriending" her). Kid Harry figures out where Riddle took her and saves her.

Ginny wasn’t molested but she/Harry/everyone else is deeply affected by this event even though they don't realize it. Ginny thinks she's overcome it, and she's still a BAMF some the books but she's not fully over it as shown by her fear of being emotionally involved with Harry. It's why Harry refuses for a long time to think of her anything else outside of a brotherly way.

Ginny has a really bad sexual experience (though it doesn't go all the way), and as a result she's disgusted by men (not scared), but doesn't feel any revulsion with Harry. After not being able to get close to any boy for a long time, she decides to proposition Harry. Harry, being noble, absolutely refuses at first, but she kisses him, he's very attracted to her, and is convinced by her that he's helping her get over this tick. So it's FWB but it fits their personalities, and still stays true to the Ginny is subconsciously afraid of a real relationship/intimacy with Harry, who realizes he wants more but doesn't know if just getting to be physical is more than he'll ever deserve and he wants what he can get if not real love from her - until, of course, he realizes he can't do it anymore and she has to decide if she's brave enough to actually let herself feel.

HAHA omg I’m reading over my emails and I talk about getting into The Changeling and only sleeping 4/5 hrs a night and then the exchange ends with my coming up with my alternate dimension idea of Harry getting thrown into the BWL!Neville universe. So you guys can see why this story never went anywhere despite several thousands words between me and my beta.

–

Whew, long post. Hope that satisfied your curiosity!

I’m honestly not sure there are any left, but let me know if you have any other wip asks! Though note that I will be rather absent in the near-future because of life.

#wip title game #anonymous #healer!ginny story #st. mungos #since feeling is first who pays attention #muggle au fwb #languishing wips #i'm not gone for good but will be gone for a little while #just popping my head in now and again #because life #hinny #harry/ginny

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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

Text

A Different Purrspective (Original Work)

“Human. There you are.”

Oh. It again. Or is it a her now, given the body it’s in?

To be honest, I hadn’t really cared much at the time about its sex—or if it even had one. I was a little too busy panicking over this thing that just one day up and decided to come after me because...

Actually, I never did get a clear understanding of its motivations. I was a bit too busy trying to protect myself from the FREAKING DEMON!

In my defense, I hadn’t known demons existed until that moment.

In its defense...

Well, it had none.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while now.”

Sigh.

I forced myself away from my cozy nap time to look over at the one disrupting me.

It was...pretty, I suppose. Full cheeks. Long eyelashes. Hair was messy. Its clothing was disheveled. But otherwise it looked good. Something in me felt that a demon shouldn’t be so pretty.

I wasn’t bitter though.

Even if the body it was in used to be mine.

You know those horror movies with the main leads that have to deal with spirits and possession and body snatchers? Yeah. That was me then.

As to be expected in a horror movie, I lost the fight and the...whatever that thing was took my body. And trapped me in its former vessel.

So the orange tabby cat being spoken to on the front porch of a suburban street? Yeah. That’s me now.

The jerk couldn’t even get me in a female cat body.

Though given what I’ve since learned about cats, maybe that was for the best. Ugh.

“Do you have any idea what it took to find you?”

Huh. The weird thing was that it sounded offended. Not sure why it was supposed to be the wounded party here. I was the one whose body was stolen. By IT in the first place.

And then to add insult to injury, it took me to a shelter and left me there. Giving me an evil smirk and laughing all maniacally-like on the way out. Probably figuring I would be euthanized.

It hadn’t expected me to be adopted.

Ms. McGregor. A lovely old woman. She was pretty much the picture of the cat lady. And she took quite good care of me, all things considered. Fresh water. Good cat food. Some treats every so often.

Granted, it was a bit humiliating since I wasn’t supposed to be a cat, but after what had happened, I was willing to take what I could get and live out my days in relative peace and quiet.

...then this asshole had to show up.

“Human, we need to talk.”

Here we go.

“I...acknowledge that some mistakes have been made.”

Oh really?

“And we both have some regrets.”

The one thing I regret about being in a cat’s body right now is that I can’t roll my eyes.

I know it should be possible. I’ve seen the cat videos. But I just...haven’t worked out how to do it myself.

“I...may have been a bit...hasty. In my previous actions.”

You said you’d stalked me for weeks to learn about my life before attacking me and pulling a Freaky Friday. That requires a bit more forethought than you’re giving yourself credit for.

“I was just excited for the chance to experience life as a human.”

Uh huh.

“It was only going to be for a while.”

Ignoring that from what you had gloated at the time, ‘a while’ was going to be however many kitty years I had left. And considering how old this body was when I was forced into it...

“Just...long enough to get the ‘human experience’, you know?”

Guess the ‘experience’ isn’t working out for you, huh?

“But all good things have to end.”

Good for who?

“So I was thinking...” It trailed off, as if expecting me to finish the thought for it.

It waited, watching me long enough for this to get uncomfortable. Then it sighed.

“Perhaps we should switch back?” It asked, trying not to appear too eager.

It was failing. Horribly. But it was trying.

“You can go back to your life and family.” It continued, as if it was trying to sweeten the offer.

It was an offer though. And one I hadn’t expected to get this soon.

Or ever.

But what I expected even less was my own disinterest.

I mean...sure, the entire thing was terrifying when it was happening and I had no idea what was going on. And humiliating to no longer be human afterwards. But it’s been...what. Two months? Three? And so far, things have been pretty good for me.

Yeah, I’ll pass.

“Come on now!” It insisted “Don’t you want to be human again?”

...was it serious?

“You would get to go back to your fulfilling job.”

You mean the 60+ hour work week with no breaks, no paid vacation, and shitty benefits?

“See your family again. Spend time with your siblings and their kids.”

My self-important and egotistical siblings. With their horrible, horrible kids. And their untrained dog.

“And you can return to having a normal life in a healthy human body.”

My most recent labs read some issues. I had gingivitis and a cavity at my last dental exam. And my appointment for operations on those matters both happened to be after my body got snatched.

How did that go, by the way?

It tensed, fists clenching.

“I think I was a bit...unfair. And I would like to rectify that and switch us back.” It bit out. I think its eyes even flashed.

It was the period pain, wasn’t it?

“How do you LIVE with that?!” It shouted, furious and possibly somewhat embarrassed given the red tinge to its face.

Huh. I didn’t know I could turn that color.

“Look, this works out for both of us.” It insisted, gesturing at me. “You can go back to your life and I can go back to not dealing with your life!”

Wow, you make my life sound so grand when you put it that way...

“Really?” It asked, hopefully.

No.

It groaned, running a hand through its hair.

Wow. It doesn’t look washed. Have you not been taking care of my body? That was one of the few things you said I wouldn’t have to worry about after you left me to rot.

“It’s harder than it looked, okay?”

How do you not know how to take care of a human body?

“Hey, even you humans need years of training on how to properly manage yourselves!” It hissed.

Well, sucks to be you, I guess. As a cat, I can just lick myself clean and not have to worry about appearances.

Its nose turned up in disgust.

“How are you okay with this?!”

Well, it sucked when it happened. But you know, we humans are pretty adaptable. Horror movies end after the credits, but odds are that we would just sort of have to get used to it sooner or later.

Did you think I’d just be screaming in horror within my kitty mind forever?

It paused.

“Maybe?”

Wow. That totally makes me want to help you.

“What? No!” It insisted. “I’m trying to help YOU here!”

And how is this helping me?

It...actually seemed to fumble for a moment.

“Aren’t you sick of eating raw meat and cat food? Isn’t it disgusting?”

Eh, it was hard to get used to at first, I’ll admit. But the nice thing about being a cat is that taste isn’t one of the senses high up on the scale of priority. I’ve only got like...a few hundred taste buds now compared to the thousands I had before, so it doesn’t really bother me. I do miss tasting sweet things though. But at least it means I don’t have to worry so much about how bad things taste.

“Aren’t you tired of having to hunt for food? I’ve seen you going after rats and bugs. Clearly you must be starving.”

Nope, the lady here feeds me pretty well. I just take out the mice to help her out.

It wilted. “But...the bugs?”

It’s actually kind of fun to hunt bugs. And they have this nice little crunch to them—

“Okay, okay, okay!” It interrupted quickly.

Was it was because it was grossed out by the conversation or because it secretly liked those things as well?

“Don’t. Just...don’t remind me.”

Huh, how strange for a demon. Honestly, it had been a cat, at least for a little while. It should know these things.

For that matter, it should also know more about humans in general and my life in particular if it had been following me for months.

“Look, let’s just switch back.” It implored. “I’ll stay in kitty form. You can go home and do...whatever with your life.”

I could.

“You can.”

But this is actually the closest thing I’ve had to a vacation in...like...years.

“You can’t be serious.”

YEARS.

“Listen to me you little shit!” It hissed out, its features turning significantly more sinister and...wow. Stop. I don’t think my face is supposed to look like that! “You are going to switch back with me or so help me—”

You’re supposed to be the powerful demon here. You stole my body before. If you really hate it so much, why don’t you just switch us again?

A pause followed. An unsettling long pause.

“I...can’t.” It muttered, unhappily.

Wait.

What?

“I took it by force. Which we can do.” It shrugged. “But no one’s ever just...switched back before! Not without permission.”

Sooo...you need my permission?

“Yes.”

Huh.

Maybe you should have thought of that BEFORE you stole my body, you creep.

“Oh come on!” It shouted. “Please! I can’t take this anymore. Your job is impossible, your family is insufferable, and this body keeps doing...things I don’t like to think about.”

Yeah, it does that.

“What would it take to switch back?” It demanded. “I can’t take it anymore!”

I’m not feeling particularly sympathetic to your needs right now.

“Do you want me to apologize? I’ll apologize!”

Would it be sincere? Or would it just be a manipulation tactic?

It hesitated.

Right. Enough said.

“It could be both!” It insisted.

And we’re done. Excuse me, I think I’ll be going back to my nap now.

“You know,” It said with a dark tone. “I could just kill your family. Then you’d go to prison. How would you like that?”

Hah. Good luck. Before I met you, I was still convinced they were hellspawn themselves.

Not to say that meeting you has actually changed that belief, to be honest. If even you can’t stand them, what does that say?

“I could kill them all and make it look like an accident. So you wouldn’t get in trouble when you returned.” It suggested instead and...wow...was it trying to bribe me now?

Pass.

Knowing them, they’d be worse than any demon. And would take you out before you could do them in.

Nice try, though.

It glared fiercely at me but said nothing further. If I didn’t know better, I would say it was pouting.

Human expressions are one thing I miss. I’d be doing a long sigh right now.

Look.

You’ve lived my life for all of two months and already you can’t hack it. Imagine dealing with that...all of that. For year after year on end. Going to work at a high stress and low reward job. Dealing with people who look down on you regardless of how hard you work. Dealing with family members that either ignore you or act like they’re superior to you. Dealing with their rotten little children that they are incapable of disciplining even as they wreck your belongings for the sheer entertainment of it. Dealing with a body that’s slowly giving out on you regardless of what you do because you have to overwork it just to earn enough to keep it functioning.

And knowing that despite all the hardship, you still have another 30 plus years of that shit to go before you’ll get to enjoy...maybe 10 years of retirement before your body gives out?

Meanwhile, I have maybe another 10 years of kitty relaxation in this life.

Why would I want to give this up?

“Because you aren’t meant to be a cat!” It insisted.

I’m not. But somehow I am.

And whose fault is that?

It was...oh wow. I wasn’t imagining it! It was pouting.

Huh. Apparently it’s a demon that isn’t used to not getting its way.

And arguably, it was a good deal. Most horror movie leads would jump on a deal like this to “right the wrongs” done to them and return to their lives. Anyone would.

But would you look at the time? Gee, buddy. I’d love to help you out, but that sounds like an awful lot of work and there’s a nice patch of sunbeam that’s calling my name.

“Don’t you turn your back on me—”

And you may want to check yourself. People are starting to give you odd looks and you really don’t need folks to recognize you and question why you’re talking to yourself in public.

It glanced around nervously before lowering its voice. “You could try to help, you know!”

Well, I could. But y’know...cat.

It sputtered.

Clearly, it wasn't possible for cats to laugh. Otherwise I would be laughing myself to tears right now.

“I could disrupt this new little life of yours!” It hissed, turning to threats where pleas and bribes had failed. “The only reason you have it so good is because that old hag took pity on you.”

Let’s not forget that if you had your way, I’d have been euthanized by now and this would all be a moot point. So maybe you should be a little more grateful to that ”old hag”.

“So you do care about her.” It smirked. “But she’s old. Frail.”

It hummed, nonchalantly. Then it smirked, knowingly.

“She looks about ready to keel over at any day.”

And what good would it do you if she did? You need me to be willing, apparently, remember? I was already spiteful as hell when I was human. And everyone knows that cats are nothing but spite.

“We can see if you’d still have that attitude after a few months on the streets. After all, there’s always the chance she could have an...accident.”

Not a good idea. You have not seen that woman lug her purse around. I’m pretty sure that lady was a former heavyweight champion. She can carry four bags of cat food at once, she could probably bench press you while she’s at it.

And there’s no way I’d go back to a body after that.

It opened its mouth—my mouth?—into an expression of rage, and looked about ready to scream.

A loud noise cut it off before it could make a sound.

“There you are!”

Glancing over, it was the front door of the house. The screen door had been opened and on the other side stood a short old woman. Her hair was tied back into a bun. Her nose stuck out at a sharp angle, but it framed her wide if somewhat wrinkled face. She wore no glasses, but she was squinting so much that she looked like she could barely see.

That was her. My new “landlord”, so to speak.

“Jennifurr! Dinner’s ready!”

It took a moment for the thing in my former body to realize she was talking to me. Cat me.

...oh. Did I mention that the Cat Lady had an awesome sense of humor?

Welp, that’s it then. Too bad, so sad. Looks like we’ll have to table this for another day. Maybe next year?

It gave a grunt of annoyance, but backed away. If nothing else, it wasn’t going to cause a scene here. More out of self preservation than anything. But it continued to glare at me, clearly indicating that this was not over.

I ignored it, going straight for the door as McGregor opened it to let me inside.

“There you are, dear! Everything all right?”

Eh, fine.

She placed a bowl with some cut up meat on the kitchen floor for me.

Oo. Chicken!

“Not too many pests, I hope.”

Only the one.

She continued making conversation as she milled about the kitchen. She does that often. Sometimes it even feels like she hears me.

I wasn’t lying. Not entirely, at least.

I miss being human. Parts of it, at least. The internet was great. I miss having hands that can type. And opposable thumbs. I miss my full taste buds. Some other things I can’t be bothered to think of right now.

But getting away from life does kind of help to put things in perspective.

I’ll go back though...eventually. Maybe.

What was that one meme? It seemed most fitting here.

Nope. I don’t wanna adult today.

Today, I will cat.

#my writing #original story #body theft #poor choices #today i will cat

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oristromboli · 3 years

Text

If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 6

Chapter Title: Punishment

The fierce sounds of arguments melt into clashing weapons in the Liyue landscape as all frustrations are released in bloody fury.

Punishment is thus dolled out on the sore, sore loser.

(Smut this chapter: Reader/Childe, M/F)

(Warnings: rough and angry sex after a fight, power dynamic struggles, being very very mean to each other - not a fluffy first time between them given that it's Childe and his implied mission. please be careful if this isn’t your cup of tea!)

CW: the first segment describes Childe making a hunt! Canon-typical violence, but just in case: one paragraph starts with "Childe kneels down - " and another one is "With a firm - "

Childe takes a slow breath in, and on his exhale, releases the arrow, watching as it sinks into the boar’s side.

Damn, he was never good with a bow. He strolls leisurely up to the animal, frowning when he notices the pitiful struggle as it tries to move despite the mortal wound. Poor thing thinks it still has a chance.

Childe kneels down and reaches out to the pig, running his hands gently through the matted fur. He watches as its breathing becomes labored; each unsteady drag likely pushes its lungs against the arrow. How many ways did he watch the abyss deny death to the unfortunate prey wandering in? A quick death was mercy never granted in that suffocating darkness.

He feels black armor fighting to grow from his skin, feels the electricity pulling him taut as he smiles softly, running his hand up to cup the boar’s head.

With a firm twist, Childe snaps its neck and the body goes limp.

Blood from the arrow wound trickles onto his gloves, and he raises his hand to lick it idly away. His frown returns when he realizes that the flaming need in him is barely sated.

Warbled and demented noises creep up towards him from between the cracks in the earth.

Grunting, he hoists the animal over his shoulders and starts walking again while whistling a lullaby.

---

Birds call overhead while the wind rustles through the emerald leaves around you in this little outcrop by the river. The sun felt warm, kissing the back of your neck gently as you took in your surroundings, counting each fish that crested the surface as they leaped further upstream.

Though you normally take these moments of isolation to regain your internal serenity, you didn’t necessarily hate the fact that Childe insisted on tagging along. Yet, confusion still wrung your head as to why he came along on a commission so far off the beaten path. Even Aether would complain at such a wildlife excursion.

“Hey girlie,” Childe calls, grinning wide and bubbles up a rare, genuine laugh when he sees your surprised expression. “I got lunch!”

Your eyes bulge as you watch him carrying one of the largest boars you’ve ever seen with a skip in his step like the animal weighed nothing. When he drops it unceremoniously to the ground, you hear the resounding thud and decide firmly that yes, Teyvat’s animals are ridiculous.

Childe cracks his knuckles and materializes his hydro knife to kneel at its side, and you just… You just watch.

Some deeply primitive part of you is hooting like a shameless dog as you watch him handle the meat with ease. Good man. Strong man. Can feed and protect.

“ – girlie, hey, you listening?”

You shake your head and blink at him. He starts laughing and gestures to the fireplace. “O-oh, right!” In a flash, you turn your back to him to hide the rising heat to your cheeks. “Um… That’s a lot of meat, you know.”

“Well, nobody ever complained to me about that, pretty bird.”

Nevermind. Big, strong man gone. “Why are you always cracking jokes? It’s like you never take things seriously.”

Childe pauses for a moment, stilling his hands. He never looks at you before he resumes skinning the boar, though you recognize the flash of a bygone memory nonetheless. “Nothing wrong in trying to get people to laugh occasionally in this shithole of a world. What else can you do? Tell your siblings that this place isn’t the fairytale they grew up believing in?”

You swallow and nod. Some time passes, and as you finish setting up the makeshift stove, it occurs to you that… There’s two of you. And one very big, very fat pig.

You’ll need a bigger fire.

“Hey, how do you plan on cooking this?”

“You’ll see.”

---

An hour later and you’re in awe at how good the food is. The meat is practically melting off the bone as you eat the roasted pork, slight drool dribbling down.

Childe just stares as you lick your lips. “Did you learn this in Fatui boot camp or something?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice a pitch lower. “Closer to the ‘or something’ part though.”

Idle chatter starts between you two, soft banter and long talks about nothing. You ask about his past, he gives curt answers and you do the same, but there’s this silent understanding between you two about it. There’s little to say on the matter as neither party wants to remember. At least that’s something you have in common with Childe.

“So, along your travels,” he starts, wiping his mouth with a crimson handkerchief. “Did you come across any gods? Besides our resident funeral consultant, of course.”

“A few,” you reply. “Some also stepped down to join mortals too, but in those lands, they gave up their full divinity instead of just the title.”

“Why anybody would ever give up power willingly is beyond me.”

You laugh, though it sounds more vindicative than you intended. “Don’t you know? The gods envy mortals because their lives are fleeting and any moment can be their last. It’s all the more beautiful to them.”

Childe narrows his eyes. “Who said that? Seems to me the gods here don’t really care for us.”

You smile bitterly. “Yeah, I can see your point. The gods in Teyvat are different, but what about Zhongli? Don’t you trust him?”

“Ha, I trust him to pursue his own self-interests. If they align with mine, then great, there’s no problems between us. He’s reliable and stubborn. Shockingly, he has my honest loyalty, and I trust I can predict his next move.”

“Always the tactician.” You both chuckle at the thought. “I would’ve thought there was more than that.” You pray he doesn’t realize how you test the waters, and with the way he looks in the distance, you’re safe.

“You’re not wrong. I care about him. He drives me insane, but come hell or high water, he’ll be my friend to the bitter end.”

Friend. Your heart throbs again, though in deliverance or bewilderment for their strange relationship, you’re not sure.

“With your powers, were you ever seen as one?” Childe says, breaking your thoughts.

“A god? Sometimes, though only if people haven’t seen real divinity. We were also called demons. Unnatural. We keep to ourselves mostly and avoid too much trouble, but with our powers sealed, we don’t even have that going for us. We’re not really welcome among humans or divine, hah.” His eyes relax briefly, shifting to an indescribable emotion. There’s something in them, some light of understanding.

You hate it.

“Don’t act like you care,” you say, turning away and hugging yourself. Yeah, you know you’re being unfair, but you can’t handle Childe’s pity at the moment. He sighs as he tosses his leftovers over his shoulder and tries putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey – “

“Don’t.”

“I don’t care. Look at me,” he says, tone sharp and commanding you to listen. During easy exchanges, it became so easy to gloss over the fact that Childe is, indeed, a general of the Fatui.

He’s all but glaring down at you, matching your petulant stare. “What is with you? I’ve been trying to fix things between us, but I’m starting to feel like I’m the only one. This goes both ways, you know.”

“Us? There is no us, Childe. It’s just you. It’s always been about what you want,” you seethe. Stars, you sounded so much like a kid, but some sick part of you is enjoying this. All your words are underhanded and you both know it. “Did you even care? At any point, any at all, did you care?”

His blue eyes slowly widen as realization dawns on him. “Ah. You’re still mad about that. About me using you, huh?”

“What the f – Yes, I’m still mad! Congratulations, you’ve got a pair of eyes. Don’t you know that I – nevermind.”

“No, say it,” he says, placing both hands on each of your shoulders now and caging you in. His face leaves no room for argument as he says your real name. “Say it. Don’t back out now.”

“Stars, you stupid, selfish son of a – “

“Hey, don’t you bring my mother into this,” he says, though a lopsided grin works its way onto his face regardless.

“Very funny, Childe. I just… I kept it, you know? It’s no Mr. Cyclops, but it’s still mine,” you say, looking down. His eyes flick to the starconch dangling from your journal.

“You didn’t have to,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on your shoulders.

“Of course I did. I made a promise to you, and I have a feeling you’re the type to actually cut my pinkie off.”

“Ha. Who’s being funny now?”

You shake your head. “My question still stands: did you care? I’ve forgiven you – you know that – but I’m mad because… I need to know if our friendship was...”

When you look up again, he’s – oh holy – when did he get so close? His deep blue eyes are resolute and you’re holding your breath. Childe is close enough that you can practically feel the heat radiating off of him as his lips parts. “Honestly? I didn’t at the time.”

Oh. Of course not.

You close your eyes as you feel your heart plummet to your stomach. Great. Just fantastic. Nothing can get worse than this.

“But now…”

His fingers gently grab your chin and lift up as he tilts his own down at you. “I can’t remember that time without guilt. When I saw how Teucer showered you all with adoration, it just reminded me of what we had.”

“What we had? What was that? Friend? Enemy? Sparring partner?” You scoff and lean out of the space he made that threatened to suffocate you. “I don’t want to believe a word you’re saying, because even though I’ve been honest every step of the way – “ You pull his right hand off your left shoulder and lock a pinkie with it. “ – I can guarantee that you haven’t.”

Do you feel a sense of joy when you release his hand with a glare?

“You’re no better than the gods you hate.”

When he has the gall to look offended?

Yeah, you do, and know what? Fuck him.

Suddenly, your hand is harshly yanked up as he leans close again, locking a pinkie before you can escape. “You don’t want to believe me? Fine. But don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same for your duty if push came to shove. At least this time I had the decency to tell you why I’m here, why I’m ‘using’ you again. You beat me to it though, or did you forget?”

Childe sneers, fury now raging in those watery depths. “I’m not mad, I’m happy that you’re as shrewd as you are strong. Yes, I didn’t care then. Yes, I care now, even if I don’t regret it. I want to leave that in the past because today, this moment, is all that matters. C’mon, eye for an eye.”

“What are you even talking about?” You’re seething now, matching his frustration. Seriously, he can’t spout this crap and expect you to suddenly understand. “I am not doing this with you, to you, whatever ‘this’ is. Despite being upset, you’re still my friend.”

“No, we weren’t just friends and you know it,” he growls. “Or enemies. So just give the word and get it over with, comrade. Fight me, use me, do something and get it out of your system.”

He’s… He’s crazy, he’s just insane, you have to get out of here. You swiftly stand and pull your hand away, staring down at him. “I said no, Childe. Not everything is a battle. I can’t believe you… You would think that. Think that I’m no better than the people who treated you like some pawn.”

You sigh and turn away, but your hand is yanked behind you again. May the stars give you patience.

When he turns you, he’s looking at you with a familiar glint as his lips curl. It’s the same expression he wore in the aftermath of Osial.

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to them. You aren’t one of those out-of-touch bastards. I just… I wasn’t sure what else to do to get you to believe me.”

Who would’ve thought a Harbinger could be so maudlin. Torpor replaced your irritation and quiet resignation flickered in your mind. Why you still bickering with him? It’s pointless.

You take the hand holding you and bring it up to the center of your chest.

He freezes and stares at his hand, breathes growing shallow and quick.

“This is going nowhere. Leave it in the past, right? There’s always more to argue over, ha.”

When you squeeze his hand, you smile at him, meeting his bloodthirsty eyes. “You’re right, Childe. Let’s get this out of our system.”

You don’t want to, you really, really don’t, but seeing the way his shoulders relax with barely contained relief shoves that regret aside. Childe was never the best with words – while his fellow Harbingers wove tale after tale with silver tongues, he simply collected others’ tongues with that sharpened silver.

As you both pace yourselves apart, you pull out your journal, long modified to be a weapon of sorts in this world. You know you are at a severe disadvantage as you were never great with other tools, so you had to find a way to either stay out of his range – difficult with his bow – or get close enough to his personal space to land a direct blow with energy gathered in your hands – difficult with his water shields.

Childe summons his hydro blades and begins twirling them, head bowed as he watches your every step. Slowly, you circle one another as both try to find weak points to exploit. His eyes are nothing short of predatory, and as his lips barely twitch into a snarl, you’re once again reminded of just who is in front of you.

Tartaglia, the Vanguard of the Harbingers, whose arrogant and ruthless madness could only be soothed on the battlefield. He’s not so much like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but a monster in wolf’s clothing.

On instinct, you immediately tilt your head as an arrow whistles past your ear, nicking the edge. You feel warmth trickle down and your ear stings something fierce as you start to dodge his incoming folly of arrows.

Is it too late to back out? Like, right now? You can handle the proverbial tail between your legs but you cannot handle –

You curse as water rises from the river to wrap around your ankle and shackles you when you drew too close. Cruel laughter bubbles to your left as you turn and see him charging, serrated blades out for the slaughter.

When he gets close enough to leap, nearly too close for comfort, you immediately summon a wall of stone in front of you. A soft thud echoes, so you form a fist and push the wall forward and away from you as the hydro chains break with Childe’s concentration shifting to his predicament.

Normally, you would be more prepared and calculating in your attacks, but the sheer ruthlessness of his onslaught took you by surprise.

Russet-colored hair juts out from the top as he leaps up and over, twirling in the air. With a clear opening, you reach out energetically to the smattering of small – yet sharp – stones around you to use as projectiles. He laughs as he slices each stone, but your goal of interrupting his trajectory is accomplished.

Childe lands a distance away as you sprint farther back, summoning small pillars of stone between you two as he immediately chases after. Though he’s chaotic, his movements are somewhat predictable; you summon one stone in a bluff to get him to move to his right to dodge, but immediately slam another stone to his ribs on his side from the direction he moved towards.

He grunts, but hardly flinches as you see him double his efforts in chasing you. Belatedly, you realize he’s been herding you towards the massive waterfall the entire time. Either you finish him here or he finishes you there with the elemental advantage.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re not as fast as Aether, this is why you stay on the backline, fuck –

Childe’s lance smashes the shoddy stones rising quicker in your panic to separate you two. Not your finest work, but it’s a bit hard to focus on their construction when you have a maniac sent from hell on your ass, thank you. When you see how he leaps from your most recent stone, utilizing the momentum in its rise to propel himself forward, you tuck tail and run.

Safe to say, two thoughts occur as he tackles you and his iron grip is wrapped around your body to restrict movement as you both tumble along the ground.

One, you’re absolutely torn between humiliation and feeling shameless as you realize your undergarments are soaked with his husky pants filling your ears. His head tucked against your own in the roll.

There’s definitely something wrong with you, you decide, since you were nothing short of terrified two seconds earlier.

Two, when your head slams against the ground and you open your bleary eyes, you realize how lovely the snapdragon flowers lining the riverbank are this time of year.

You hiss as you feel heavy thighs cage your arms to your side and look up. Childe is leering down at you and snarling as his right hand curls into a fist, purple lightning slowly dancing across it. His left hand glows blue as you recognize the sensation of the infamous riptide mark forming over your chest, eyes glazed over with concentration.

In a moment of paralyzing horror, you realize just how far from civilization you two are.

Ha, haha, good one Childe. He’s… He’s playing, right? This was just friendly brawling. Ha. Oh shit.

He’s not slowing down.

When his hand clamps on your shoulder to still your frantic movements, you whine – high and feeble – at the pain blooming from his grip. For a split second, he falters as his eyes regain clarity, hand loosening a fraction to no longer being unyielding. You take the opportune distraction to flick your hand and throw a stone to his chest.

It’s not much, not without the power of your book – now discarded somewhere – but it does the job as he is knocked to the side and off of you.

In the action, you scramble to keep with the flow and slam him on his back, perching on his chest as your hands glow with accumulating geo energy.

Seeing his soft pants, a sparkle in his eyes, and how blood trickles down his forehead, the shattering in your heart is deafening when you realize how young he looks. His laughter is wet and harsh as his arms are splayed.

“Do it,” he grunts. “End the fight, ‘cause I won’t stop.”

No. No, you’re not doing this.

“Aw, is little birdie too scared?”

You lower your hand and wrap it around his throat, and stars, is his grin growing?

“Come on, just do it – “

“Shut up,” you hiss, leaning forward. “Stop it Childe, I’m not punishing you.”

“What if I want you to?”

You freeze as your mouth parts in a silent gasp, his expression never faltering. When you jump back, you grind against something hard and insistent against your ass, and oh. Was this his plan all along…?

Childe’s hands fly to your hips and pull you down, and oh fuck, a moan fumbles from your lips before you harshly cut it off. Your eyes glance down to see his hooded eyes and he’s panting as he watches you. “Pretty bird is suddenly backing out now? So weak, you won’t even take your venge – “

His words are muffled as you lean forward and kiss him, but you yelp when you feel sharp teeth suddenly bite your bottom lip. Something angry twittering in you possesses you to reach into his hair and fist it, yanking his head up to meet your irritated gaze. When he moans again, loud and shameless and grinds against your core, you’re seized by the same fierce need.

“You’re sick,” you say as your tongue darts out to taste a hint of blood.

For some reason, those words still him as his eyebrows furrow slightly. “I know.”

Stars, you hate how he stares you down, daring you to do something about it. You hate how it feels like it was your fault, that crack in his shield as you see your own shocked eyes reflected in his ocean blues. They flicker between yours, and that something whispers in you again: for whatever reason, he wants to be punished.

Maybe that’s how he gets his sick kicks. Yeah. That’s it.

(You shove aside any lingering doubts.)

You pull him to you this time, kissing him as you simultaneously begin a slow, rhythmic roll of your hips against his throbbing bulge. When Childe’s mouth parts in a strangled moan, you take the opportunity to dive your tongue into his and hum in approval as he rubs his hands along your thighs.

As you part, a thin trail of saliva stained red with blood connecting you two, you lean back and smirk at his whine from the loss of contact. Instead, you lean back and arch your back to apply more pressure to his bulge. “You’re such a challenge sometimes,” you murmur, scanning his features.

Childe moans, ragged and hoarse, as his hands find purchase on your hips. “Please,” he replies desperately.

“When was the last time someone put you in your place?” you say as your hands slowly trail down to his chest and meticulously begin undoing each button. Each time your nails scrape his skin, the contact is minuscule but enough to hitch his breath.

“N-not since the Tsaritsa,” he whispers, keening as you dip your fingers beneath his jacket to open it fully, baring his pale chest. “The people in Liyue are too… Let’s call it traditional in bed, hm? A bit too tender.”

You both snicker (unknowingly at the same man), but his laughter is cut off as you lean down to kiss along each scar littering his chest. There is a smattering of slashes and burns, enough to paint a picture of a life hard-won and deserving of his name.

When you ghost your lips back up, you pause at a pale, crescent-shaped… Is that a bite mark? You raise your hand slow to that juncture between his neck and shoulder, and you feel blue eyes watching you intently. As you trace it, you murmur, “What’s this? Did a lover leave this? Doesn’t seem very becoming of a Liyue native.”

Childe releases a puff of air instead of a laugh and rolls his head back. “Let’s just say it’s a trophy for the one time I managed to get a stupidly sentimental man to realize I’m not fragile on my last night here. He even apologized for it.”

Huh. You choose not to comment on the strange memory, but instead, opt to kiss the scar lightly. Childe openly moans, breathes becoming shallower as you move down the expanse of his creamy abdomen from there.

Gloved hands fly to your head and grab. His shallow thrusts against your chest halt when you lift away from him, glowering at him to stop. Childe’s eyes narrow, but when he tries again, you lie your palm flat against his bulge and push down.

Childe cries out at the border between pain and pleasure, and good, that fucker needs to learn when to stop.

Oh, gods, when did you get a mean streak? Except, when you lay your eyes on the Fatui again, memories of each time he’s pushed your buttons surface, directly compromising your promise to Aether to be kind to the locals in Teyvat to expedite finding Lumine.

Yeah, Aether isn’t here right now. You can make a special exception.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you grunt and you lean up again, choking back laughter when you see how his eyes widen at your abandonment. Ha. “Maybe I’ll go slower and, how is it called, ‘make love to you like the people in Liyue? Maybe I’ll stop pursuing you like this, where none else dared challenge the almighty Harbinger, huh?”

Admittedly, the lust in you skyrockets when you see how he tries putting on an intimidating façade again, yet the flush across his face and chest absolutely ruins it. Oh man, you can keep doing this all day.

Only… When the devil smirks at you, your heart begins hammering.

“Oh? Maybe you should,” he pants, and you pointedly look at his erection now forming a slight damp spot on his pants. “Tch, but don’t tell me you’re not curious. You’re too fucking nice all the time, you’d hate that slowness as much as I would.”

Irritation seers through you again as you suddenly – and perhaps unnecessarily roughly – grab his pants, purposefully dragging your nails along his skin as you begin to pull it down. “What makes you think I’d hate it?” you huff.

Childe aids in your struggle, shimmying his pants down and off as he kicks off his boots while you clamber on top of him again.

“Come on,” he sneers, snaking his right hand around your neck to pull you closer while his left makes begins to slide down your belly. When he leans closer, he pauses short of kissing you and stays like that. “Don’t you want a taste?”

“You – “

Fuck, you didn’t realize how he distracted you until one finger brushes your clit and slides along your folds. Fuck, fuck, you hate how he drinks in your quiet and strangled moans as it begins to slowly dip into you. When you feel something smooth and cold instead, it hits you that he never took off his gloves.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he coos and rolls his hips upwards to grind against your ass. You grit your teeth, though Childe takes this moment to kiss you again and suck on your bottom lip, massaging you all the while. It’s… It’s not enough, damn him.

"Give me a safeword," you rasp as you break apart. "Right now. So I know this isn't a trick up your sleeve."

He grunts and leans forward again to press his lips against your nose, though he pauses in his ministrations. "This isn't -"

"Childe."

"... Calla lily."

You nod and sigh, tilting your head to the side.

The hand formerly around your neck slides down to pull down your clothes, allowing more access as it pools around your thighs.

You pull away entirely – ah, there goes his fingers – and stand, beginning to strip. As he watches you, you see how his jaw clenches, impatient and yet thoroughly enjoying the impromptu strip dance.

When you’re bare, you begin to walk over and have to bite back a whimper at how Childe’s tongue darts along his lips as you approach. Hmm…

You pad over to his head and grab a fistful of his hair again as you kneel by his head, concentrating on how his face contorts with pleasure again.

“What makes you think you’re so special, huh?” you gruff at him as he grins up at you in that wicked, wicked way.

“Because I’m all the sins you never had the courage to commit,” he responds daringly.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Oh, stars forgive you if you (not so) accidentally strangle this man. You swing one leg over his head and pull it up as you lower yourself. At least he needs no further instruction as he immediately rests his hands on your thighs and tilts his head to lap at the wetness dribbling down.

Let it never be said that Childe didn’t know how to use his mouth, because fuck, the eagerness he begins devouring you out with is nothing short of a man approaching his last meal. You become hyper-aware of your wanton moans, how you grind your core further along his lips while his aching cock is behind you, devoid of all attention.

When his tongue dives deeper between your folds, truly fucking you with it, you slam a hand behind his head to prevent your fall. Fuck, you can’t fucking think –

Your thighs are trembling as the pleasure shoots through you, building with each rock of your hips. It’s slow and steady, but you feel yourself surfing the rising pleasure when you mentally short-circuit. At some point, he crept one hand under you and – without warning, the asshole – plunged two fingers deep as he turns his attention to your clit.

It’s pathetic how you mewl, it really is, and like a bloodhound, Childe senses your weakness. He doubles his efforts while humming against your clit, vibrating it with the motion, and fuck, you feel it coming, it’s, it’s –

You open your mouth in a silent scream as it shoots up, pulling you taut and your muscles stiffen. It’s like you’re a bow strung along and Childe is the man just using you like this.

Stars, he needs to stop, he needs to – stop it, it’s too much –

“Stop, Childe, fu-ah – “ When you frantically roll off of him, falling on your side, he merely turns and grins. It’s absolutely sinful how he slowly licks each finger that was knuckle-deep in you, never breaking contact.

You wish he’d say something because for once, he’s not actually talking. He just. He followed your initiative and was promptly shut up, drinking you in. You don’t know what to say to him, so you opt instead to reach over and grab his scarf, yanking him up.

He follows, nearly as eager as a pup, and crawls to you on all fours as you sit up. Childe blinks at you, the smile never wavering as his eyes wander to your chest rising and falling with soft pants. Something in you, some small and evil voice whispering on your shoulder tells you to ruin this man, this arrogant warrior still clad in his Harbinger jacket and gloves and mask –

“Your mask,” you gruff. Childe tilts his head (oh no, that was cute), but follows your command nonetheless.

When he hands you the item, you fidget slightly and fight back that creeping uncertainty. Fuck it, you’re the one punishing him, so why are you getting embarrassed?

In a desperate bid for confidence, you hum and refuse to look at him, pretending to inspect the mask as if just now seeing it. A shaky breath escapes him as he watches you, so you firmly pull on the scarf like it��s some leash. “You always get your way, don’t you?” you hum.

When silence meets you, you yank on the scarf again. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” comes the immediate reply. You smile softly and look at him, look at his wide eyes as you’re met face-to-face. Each of his arms has settled next to your sides as his legs hold himself over you.

You hazard a glance at his cock and smile at how it twitches in response, leaking driblets of pearlescent pre-cum and just throbbing red. Oh, he wants it so badly. “Beg for it,” you say, looking back into his eyes.

Childe narrows his own, gritting his teeth in a snarl. “Beg for it,” you repeat slowly, “or we stop here. Your choice.”

“Please,” he mumbles, and… Oh, oh is he shy? Pink begins to dust the tips of his ears as he dips his head.

“Please what?” you tease and he huffs.

“Please, let me… I want it, I want you.” Each word is punctuated and forced out like it took all of his willpower to hold himself back from taking you then and there.

Some quiet, dark part of you is slightly disappointed he didn’t.

Well, you’re merciful, and he did say please. You lean forward and tilt your own head, catching his lips in a kiss entirely too soft – and yet, Childe doesn’t complain, only sighing in relief as he moves his head with yours.

But this is still supposed to be a punishment, you remind yourself vehemently. That lustful side of you rears its head, screaming at you to stop whatever it is you’re planning because Childe is here, on his knees and begging to fuck you.

But this is still supposed to be a punishment. Damn it.

Childe seems to recognize the idea swirling in your eyes when he pulls back and he frowns. You smirk back and slide his mask into place, thoroughly relishing in how his breath hitches seeing his own face staring back at him.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

He jerks his head back like he’s been slapped. “Oh, you’re kidding me, right? You just made me beg, you charlatan.”

“Exactly,” you chirp back. You push him back while retaining your hold on his scarf and run your hand down his abs, pausing at the naval above his aching cock. He moans when your nails dig in there and he spreads his legs wide to allow you to move closer. When you finally, finally grasp his cock with a firm squeeze, a strangled groan is wrenched from his chest from somewhere high and deep like he wasn’t expecting the noise either.

“I’m still mad at you, so this is all you get. Nothing more than this, not even spit.”

Gods, how badly do you want to weep and take it back, but you have a point to prove, damn it.

Childe opens his mouth to protest, but you pull on the scarf to effectively cut off his air, watching how his eyes haze over with pleasure when you do an experimental pump. Is this… Is this how you looked when you fought for dominance with Zhongli?

Oh, you really can keep doing this.

Slowly, you shift forward more until you’re pressed close enough to lean next to his head as you gather the pre-cum leaking in torrents to twist around the head of his cock. “Does the Harbinger like this?”

Childe releases another strangled moan and nudges his head against yours, bucking his hips in demand for you to just go faster. You don’t, you’re mad at him, but the insistence is cute. That infamous earring of his dangles in front of you, tantalizingly close, so you grab it with your teeth and pull sharply as the pressure from your hand increases.

Childe cries out in a mixture of shock and pleasure, hands flying to your back to pull you closer to him as you release it to begin whispering filth into his ears.

With each movement, each tug and twist and sin tickling him, you watch as he slowly becomes unraveled and pulled from the seams. The contrast between you two, how you watch with startling clarity as Childe loses his sanity in chasing after that edge, serves only to thrill you. Your core starts to throb again, practically weeping with your own slick as you fight back the instinct to mount and ride him to hell here and now.

As his thighs tense and his breathing drawing quicker, you pause abruptly to stop him from cumming and – oh shit – he yanks your hair back as he growls in your ear, “Don’t you dare – “

Wish granted. You laugh openly and release his scarf to cup his jaw, leaning forward enough that he can catch the whites of your eyes through the slits in the mask. “Then don’t look away.”

And, blessedly, you resume your ministrations with a sudden increase in speed that has Childe panting so beautifully, so raggedly as he whines at the sight of his own mask staring him down. His hips rock into your hand needily, clinging to your back like his life depended on it.

“Ah, f-uck – “ Childe’s words are cut off as he flushes red and you feel warmth spill over your hand. You never pause as you continue milking his cock, jerking it well past the point of pleasure and deep into oversensitive pain. His blue eyes are squeezed shut as a string of Snezhnayan curses tumble from his lips, clinging to what shreds of euphoria are left before you slowly stop.

His chest is heaving, each exhale hoarse and dry as he buries his head against your neck.

Huh, what does a Harbinger taste like…?

As you idly bring your hand up to lap at the cum, you smirk behind your mask when you hear Childe’s breath hitch and he begins mumbling something indistinctly, watching you all the while.

When he’s this close, you can nearly count each freckle dotting his cheeks and nose, and… And you can almost draw constellations between them.

After a moment, he leans back to stare at you before pulling off the mask. When you both see each other again, a lazy smile tugs at his lips before he looking you up and down, then towards the scene around you.

“… Well, this is unsanitary.”

What – what the fuck? You bark out a loud laugh and Childe joins you, though his sounds huskier still as he recovers. “That was a little mean of you to keep going,” he says, pouting when you snort.

“You wanted it.”

“I wanted to fuck you,” he grumbles. You shrug and try to stand, though admittedly you’re no better than a colt with how your legs shake.

Eventually, you manage to waddle your way to the river and take slow steps into the freezing waters. Fish dart between your legs, barely brushing by with slick flutters, and you sigh as you force your muscles to relax.

Some time passes before you hear movement and splashes behind you, though you don’t turn to meet him. If Childe is upset with you, he can deal with that himself, you’re too busy trying to find some peace.

You just need a hard reset. Just once, you need to get one merciful moment alone.

Still, that wish remains ungranted as strong muscles wrap around your front and you jolt at the sudden contact, but more so when you feel Childe rest his head against the back of yours. Neither of you move, opting to instead sway lightly with the currents drifting by. Each wrist is wrapped in a leather brace with a Vision inlaid in the right while the Delusion is in his left.

When you glance down at the water, you suck in a breath upon realizing he’s been staring at you through the reflection the whole time. Soft aquatic plants dance at the corners of your feet, brushing ever so slightly with each tug.

It’s nice, but something about the stillness sparks uneasiness in you. But… It’s not the kind you felt staring down Childe’s lifeless eyes seconds before he struck, no, this is different. This feeling left you feeling both heavy and light, clear and foggy like you were alone with the dawn breaking and somehow that fact makes it all the sadder.

You… You want this to last, you realize. Stupid. You’ve gotten yourself stupidly attached already, two for zero with these men in your life.

He sighs as one hand reaches up, tracing idly over your chest again. “Do you ever feel like it’s some game,” he begins delicately like each breath is an affront to the world around you.

“What do you mean?”

“These gods, these… Not-humans, I guess. The one that took Aether’s sister, the ones that laughed at you for not being good enough in your travels, the adepti that thought Liyue too fragile… Do you ever think it’s a game to them? Like we’re just puppets on strings?”

He whispers these words, writing them like clandestine letters, ones that will surely get him executed should the gods ever see yet he writes them all the same.

“Like the fabled strings of fate?” you reply, and his lips twist in a wry laugh. “I don’t know if it’s fair for me to answer, since I’m not…”

Human.

Childe hums, understanding the tacit sentiment. “Doesn’t matter, you were never welcome among the divine anyway, right?”

“As if the humans would welcome us instead.”

“I would. I already have.”

Without skipping a beat, Childe continues hastily, once again obscuring that something in his voice. “Do you think they understand us? Actually care about their people?”

You shake your head, a barely-there motion, and should any soul look upon you two now, surely they would never see how you squeeze his hands. “I don’t think gods understand true strength.”

You don’t know why, but those two words, that single combination seems to still Childe completely as he listens, utterly rapt with another memory flickering across his expression. At least, that’s what you think, judging from the reflections.

“Gods may shape the world and play with the pieces, but mortals are the ones living in it. I don’t think they remember that humans are not – “

“Things.”

Another beat of silence passes before Childe breaks it again. “They think we don’t understand anything just because we haven’t had an eternity behind us, ha. I don’t blame them, I think I’d take the opportunity to be immortal too.”

You frown and turn in his arms, coming face-to-face with him. “Why?”

“So I can finally make right everything that’s wrong,” he mumbles, placing his hand on your chest again. When you look down, you see how water tickles and caresses your skin – almost lovingly if you were so bold, but you’re not – as it forms a vague riptide mark. You feel cool hydro energy seep into your skin before disappearing entirely, though you suppose more elemental energy could always trigger its appearance once more.

Childe sighs again, massaging the spot from the mark before roving hands move to your shoulders, rubbing along them. When he looks at you again, your heart stutters at the glittering image of wide-eyed wonder and determination staring back at you – the sight of it renders you mute. A cheeky grin pulls his lips. “And more time means more journeys, right? When my plans are complete, I can finally put this all to rest and go adventuring.”

(You vow then to never tell him that Teucer long spilled these secrets to your motley group.)

And then. And then he smiles, though it’s all teeth and wicked intentions, and then you feel your heart race with sudden fear as the sweet moment left as soon as it arrived.

“You know comrade,” he begins charmingly (oh no), “I did warn you about one thing.”

“Y-yeah?” Oh no, you didn’t mean for that to come out as quiet and breathy as it did. Childe chuckles as he slides one hand to cup the back of your neck.

“That I won’t stop.”

That’s all the warning you get before your world is turned askew, everything blurring together in motions of blue and rippling colors.

This is… He’s taking you somewhere, you realize belatedly, this is how he escaped the Golden House. When his face materializes before yours, peering out of the water as the element obeys its master’s commands, he holds one finger up to his lips in a signal to keep holding your breath.

So you do. You hold as long as you can, eyes darting as the world passes by and you’re struck by the kaleidoscope of light as it ripples along the outside of this shell.

When Childe leans forward, slotting his lips against yours, you swear then that he meant to steal your breath.

Hard rock slams into your back suddenly and you break the kiss, gasping for air and flopping your hands about you for purchase. Air, hallelujah, there’s air –

You grumble at him, sulking at the unexpected journey as his drenched hair trickled droplets onto you. Childe rears his head back, roaring with laughter at your cross attitude, but you can’t hear it. As a matter of fact, you can’t hear anything really.

Wait, did he just take you behind the waterfall?

Amusement dances across his face as he watches you drink in the sights around, of how you two are in a small enclave behind the waterfall roaring overhead. It’s not much, probably two lengths of Childe’s body long and wide with temperatures freezing you to the bone.

So, why did he bring you back here –

You keen when he suddenly dips his head to kiss along your sternum, one thigh nudging your legs apart. His hot breath fans across your skin, licking a long stripe up your neck to your ears as he brings one hand up to squeeze one breast.

“Sweet girl is always so far away,” he whispers huskily. “Will you finally let me hold you?”

“Childe,” you huff, your soft breath cutting off into a moan as he pinches one nipple. His teeth graze your jaw, kissing along it and moving steadily towards your mouth. “All this time, you never needed to ask. You already had me.”

He groans, capturing your lips again with the barely constrained ferocity of a starved man as the hand fondling your chest moves down. Stars, you’re already so slick with anticipation; Childe moans appreciatively as one finger slides easily in, then two, then three.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Fuck, fuck, you’re so hot, sweet little thing.”

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize that Childe is whispering something about fair trade and equal punishment, is sinking his fingers knuckle-deep into you and ruthlessly finding that sweet spot in you with a single goal in mind. You encourage him further, opening your mouth and welcoming his tongue as he explores your mouth with near-invasive energy.

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize how his cock is already at attention and ready to spear you, how it waits patiently for you to cum first.

Oh, but you’re not thinking straight. You wail as his fingers press harder, palm now rubbing your clit while he nips along your jugular and scatters your thoughts. Childe shifts so he no longer needs his other hand to hold himself over you, and instead places it over your throat as he pulls back to stare into your eyes.

The devil grins at you. “Don’t look away now.”

“Ah – oh, Childe – “ His hands squeeze, tentative at first, then with more conviction – and a terrifyingly practiced technique – around your neck, cutting off just enough air to leave the images blurring around you. Fuck, fuck, you’re clinging to consciousness, holding onto that pleasurable spike for dear life and –

“Come for me, pretty girl,” he pants, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours and you wail. It comes out softer and quiet, like a lamb being laid bare before a wolf, and you’re shivering with the fuzzy pleasure blanketing your body. Calloused fingers work you over as he grins, murmuring praises as you come undone from his unrelenting pace.

Your orgasm is nothing fierce like when he ate you out, but as air steadily becomes harder, the pleasure refuses to fizzle out like the fireworks you felt earlier. No, it only builds and builds and builds like it refuses to let you go, dragging you through this sex-addled haze whether you like it or not.

“Stay with me now,” Childe grunts, dark hunger swirling in his eyes. “Come on, don’t black out on me now, that’s too easy. Do I have to be mean?”

What the fuck is he talking about –

You cry out in sheer panic and blinding euphoria as you feel light sparks dance along your clit. He’s using his fucking electro element, all fine control and just playing you like a fiddle while you writhe underneath him. You can’t take it anymore, this is too much to all once and impossible to describe, you can’t –

Childe blessedly releases his grip and you gasp in lungfuls of air for the second time in a short window; though his fingers slow, they don’t stop. He coos at your writhing underneath him, moaning with you as you ride out a second orgasm from his electro currents.

You’re biting your lip to stop from whining even more, but that must’ve irked Childe because he moves down to kiss you again, pulling your bottom lip away with his teeth. As the stimulation slowly pushes into pain, you hiss and swing your left leg up to kick him away.

Of course the fucker caught your foot and exploited the momentum to wrap it around his right shoulder, of course. “Pl-ease,” you cry out as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the pleasure quickly becoming too much again. “Please!”

“Mm, you’ll have to beg for it,” he replies, too casually for a man whose fingers are working up a storm to bring you to a quick and merciless orgasm again. Your hands fly down to his wrist in a pathetic attempt to slow him, but he curls his lips in a challenge and speeds up, shifting closer to you to brush his cock along your cheeks.

Fuck, fuck – You cum again, though somewhere in you tells you that you never actually stopped. A last-ditch idea desperately hits you. “F-Fuck me!” you cry out, voice pitching a tune that’s dangerously needy. “Please!”

Childe laughs again, all cruelty and thrilled at your begging, but you can’t find it in you to give a damn, you just need him to stop fucking you with his fingers. You need a break.

But the Harbinger is a merciless god.

He hums as his fingers slowly, slowly withdraw and he makes a show of sucking each one clean before he takes his cock to line up with your entrance. As he does this, he tilts his head and looks at you again, pretending like he doesn’t see you plead for – for what, exactly? For more? For less?

And in a single thrust, he enters entirely into you. Two voices bounce off the walls, pitches varying but both as broken, and Childe immediately begins a harsh pace.

“Please,” you whine and he tilts his head again, grinning through each harsh thrust. He’s rubbing one hand along the thigh draped over his shoulder while the other holds your hips in a bruising grip.

“Please? You’re such a greedy thing, look at that, sucking up my cock like that.” Each word is punctuated with another harsh thrust, each word is met with your loud cries – and when he angles his hips enough that you can see the outline of it pushing against your naval with you on your back, you cum again.

The Fatui starts speaking in Sneznayhan again as you clamp down around him, squeezing and milking his cock for all you’re worth, but gods you can hardly care right now. Your back is surely going to be scraped raw with how you’re being dragged across the floor, but you fucking love it, love how pain and pleasure mix in some addicting cocktail you’re absolutely drunk on.

You make a long, anguished whine as Childe begins kissing along your leg and peppers your skin with nips to pierce that pleasurable fog. His words sound slurred, you’re willing to bet your life that he’s trying to call your name, but you’re not sure if it’s him or your perception that’s screwed up on this side of the river.

And then he’s laughing. The bastard’s laughing at your blissful misery.

Oh. Oh no no, no you’re not about to be humbled by some Harbinger –

“T-tartaglia!” you keen suddenly when a particularly fierce thrust hits you.

You both freeze.

Oh no. Oh shit. Cold panic rushes through you at that, at how you just admitted defeat by calling him out – and when he purrs your real name, low and husky and thoroughly vindicated, he knows it too.

“Pretty thing wants to wear my mask, but you forgot who’s fucking you like you wanted,” he snarls.

After he hoists your other leg over his shoulders, he presses his body into yours and folds you in half, the new angle devastating for your pleasure as he somehow reaches deeper. His hips start again, mercilessly hitting that spot deep in as his hands cage you in by your head. Childe leans in and nudges your head aside, brushing his nose along your cheeks. "What's the safeword?"

"C-calla lily," you murmur and he nods, turning to stare you down again.

When you try to look away, close your eyes, do something, one hand brutally squeezes your jaw to open your eyes again.

And it works. You gasp as he forces you to attention, forces you to address him as those dangerously blue eyes threaten to swallow you whole in the treacherous deep ocean. “Baby, look – hah, shit – look at me. Y-you want Tartaglia, huh? Isn’t that right?”

Your throat is betraying your mind, whining and begging and blabbering something in response as the grinding pleasure continues to drown you.

It hurts so fucking good as euphoria tears you apart, rips your insides as you start openly sobbing from the pleasure he’s dragging out, and the fucker has the audacity to shoot forward and press an open kiss to your tear-streaked cheeks. Chi- Tartaglia lets you claw at his back – hell, he encourages it with how he groans – and he torturously continues his pace.

You’re not sure if you have the energy to continue, so you smack at his back weakly as you mumble against his lips. Your cunt is squeezing and spasming around him in a vice grip, but he continues fucking you through it. “P-please, please c-cum, please, I don’t know if I can keep going,” you beg desperately.

“N-no,” he grunts and your heart sinks. “Fuck, pretty birdie is letting me finallyy – hah – fuck her, I warned you, I won’t st-hhop.”

“It’s too much,” you hiccup through the overstimulation and scream – your throat hurts with the force of it – as you feel electricity twist your muscles, clenching around his cock as white-hot plasma seems to seer you from the inside out. He moans in response, a low and gruff noise.

“Then suffer.”

And he keeps going.

---

You never notice how he traces along a barely-there geo sigil with the smallest, briefest Cor Lapis glow beneath your navel. You never notice how it throbs in time with his thrusts, with each exertion of his elemental visions as if protective over your body in a lingering memory of whatever divine beast spurred its awakening.

You never notice how he grins.

---

The Harbinger is a cruel and merciless god.

---

He ruins you, thoroughly devastates you with a meticulous precision befitting the Vanguard of the Harbingers. You’ve been manhandled and manipulated into a myriad of positions until pebbles and scrapes litter both of your bodies. True to his word, you suffer through each orgasm he tears from you.

And fuck, do you love it.

Your back is to the wall as your hands are interlocked with his own by your head, hips rapidly thrusting you up and down against it as you wrap your legs around him for purchase while he nips your neck like a rabid dog.

Stars, you can’t concentrate, your eyes keep losing focus – and each time Tartaglia notices, he bites or thrusts or squeezes with that iron grip, electricity lacing each action jolting you to the present. He refuses to let you sink, refuses to let you black out as you’re dragged through hell and back by the devil himself.

“Please,” you weep as he rests his forehead against yours, dutifully watching how your chest bounces with the movement and how his cock is thoroughly drenched with your juices. The ease with which he slides in and out of you is downright criminal.

“T-tartaglia, please,” you whimper and his blues meet yours again. “Tartaglia… I want…”

A single eyebrow arches as he presses his body impossibly closers, now chest-to-chest as he cages you in and looms over you. “I want you,” you gasp between thrusts, “all of you, please. I – ah – I trust you, please.”

Tartaglia freezes for a split-second before groaning, raw and thunderous and wild as the storms that herald his coming, and when he kisses you, you feel wetness dribble down both of your cheeks.

In your haze, you weren’t aware you were crying again from it all, but a lot of things snuck past your attention.

You don’t know what happens after that, but you know it’s hot and wet as his body flexes over yours. Somewhere in your consciousness, you hear a voice cry out Tartaglia’s name, utterly shredded to ribbons from how it was abused.

Was that your voice?

His cock is throbbing in you as you feel him empty load after load of cum, more words in a foreign language wrapping you in warmth his tone lightens, his eyes grow soft and his lips curl up. It’s all you can do to squeeze your wet cunt around him, tightening around him to milk more out of him until Tartaglia is gasping desperately in time with the stutter of his hips.

Eventually, he slumps over you, draping his muscled body over yours with sheer exhaustion and sweat glistening in a thin sheen over his skin.

He whimpers your name, almost going unheard and the noise is halting as if he didn’t expect to say it either. Frankly, you’re too tired to unpack all the layers woven into that right now. So you don’t. Instead, you squeeze his hands as you start to feebly sing softly in your native tongue.

Childe freezes instantly as he sucks in a sharp breath. “What is that?”

“Hm? My people’s language?” you respond and he nods dumbly. “Sorry, probably sounds bad.”

“No,” he mumbles, shaking his head enough that his auburn locks bounce lightly. “Just familiar.”

Huh? Whatever. He’s probably too blissed out to make sense right now.

You both stay like that for a time in a slow-going bid to steady your breathing. You… You never honestly expected this to happen when he invited himself along your commission. Not that you’re complaining, of course, it’s just… It’s not what you expected.

Some lust-addled part of your brain, utterly fucked out and blissful, is already planning another ‘excursion’ into these deep woods.

And then you start to giggle at the gooey mess pooling between both of you. Childe huffs against you and you feel his smile against your cheek. “What’re you laughing at, pretty bird?” he slurs out.

“Oh, just. This is just unsanitary.”

Childe just grunts, too tired to join your laughter, but that’s okay. Your bubbling joy is enough for the two of you in this little enclave behind the waterfall.

---

Hours have passed, and somehow – through sheer and utter spite – you both manage to drag yourselves back to Liyue Harbor despite the protesting aches from your muscles. Nerve endings are set alight with each step, but judging from how Childe winces, he feels it too. Night has long fallen and you remind yourself to apologize to Aether and Paimon, since you said you’d be back by dinner at the latest.

Do you regret it though? Nope.

Eventually, you stumble (literally in your case, tripping over a rock in your lethargy) across Zhongli scrutinizing various wares on display with a careful eye.

Zhongli’s smile is brilliant and warm as he spies you two, immediately weaving his way through the crowd to make his way over. In a way, the movement is serpentine as he manipulates each person away. It’s fitting, really.

“I expected you two to be back much earlier,” Zhongli rumbles, though there’s no disappointment. He looks pleased to simply see you both safe and sound.

“Ah, it was a little far,” Childe chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. “Y’know how it is.”

“Where are the others?” you interject, too tired to maintain any sane conversation. Or sanity in general. You need a bed and you need it now.

The former Archon tilts his head as he peruses through his memories. “I believe they moved to Wangshu Inn. They said that since you both took too long, we are to meet again at midday tomorrow near Jueyun Karst.”

You nod weakly and tune out their conversation, trying to muster what little energy you have left to begin the trek to get outside the city.

“I saw the most interesting thing,” you hear Childe say conversationally. The tone feels off, though. “Did you know geo sigils can stay on skin? I got a most intimate view of it! Even left a little hydro mark of my own,” Childe’s teasing voice continues with something else lacing the undercurrents of it.

Your heart sinks and you slowly turn around, thankful that in your brief glance at their faces, Zhongli was all-too distracted with Childe’s words to see you. However, when one eyebrow raises, you immediately duck your head.

Fuck. What the fuck. You’ll sprint if you have to, but for now, walking away is okay too.

“Oh?” You hear a curiously deep rumble from behind you as you slowly make your way out, but you can’t place the tone. Zhongli is as stoic as ever and you can’t get a read on him from his voice alone, oh no. “Is that so.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement, a fact, an observation, and it’s delivered so flatly you want to cry from sheer mortification and horror as your mind shifts into maximum overdrive with panic at all the worst possibilities.

What’s he thinking? What does either of them think of you now? Did you cross some unspoken line?

Well then! Now’s as good a time as any to flee.

“See you at Jueyun Karst!” you throw over your shoulder as you wave, but the words are broken since you’re shaking like a leaf in a fierce wind.

As you make your exit, you feel two pairs of eyes burning into your back as neither man says anything.

Haha! Terrific! That’ll surely help you sleep tonight!

notes:

i love how the 1.5 leaked cutscene says there’s a liyue saying that goes something like “waiting for rain to fall on earth once again” like hello?? metaphors??

#childe #Childe fanfic #genshin childe #genshin fanfic #childe x reader

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solalunar-eclipse · 3 years

Text

Scars You Can’t See - Chapter 12

Chapter title: Beliefs

Word count: about 4100 words

Author’s Note: How did I write over four thousand words?? Mostly I’m just grateful this chapter got out in time, but still. Wow.

First | Previous | Next

...

Over the next few days, Team Sonic dedicated their time to helping their counterparts recover from the exhausting ordeal of the past couple weeks. Tails worked to replace some of Omega’s burnt-out wiring (from his attack on G.U.N.), while Knuckles and Sonic...well, they wanted to take care of Rouge and Shadow, but it was very difficult when both Mobians kept insisting that they were “fine really, don’t worry about us so much” despite looking like they could collapse at any second.

The general stress level on the island was only raised upon a second call from the president, since she requested that a few of them come see her to discuss what should be done with G.U.N. at her office. Shadow and Rouge obviously weren’t going. Neither of them were ready to deal with the president, let alone the press (even if the latter continued to insist otherwise). The sheer idea of being in the same city as G.U.N. had especially shaken Shadow, even if he refused to say so.

Sonic had seen how he cringed at the mere idea.

Since Knuckles absolutely refused to leave his island, it was decided that Sonic, Tails, and Omega would travel together to see the president and hear what she had to say. She seemed pretty trustworthy, and if any of her staff wasn’t...they’d be able to handle themselves just fine.

While Tails helped haul Omega into the back seat of the Tornado (an impressive feat considering that he’d used to struggle with lifting Sonic in his early years) and prepared for takeoff, the hedgehog in question was zipping all around the island, trying to make sure everything would be okay while he was away and unable to defend his friends.

“You guys are sure you’re gonna be alright?” he asked for what was probably the fifth time, after Shadow had needed to physically stop him from starting a mini-whirlwind.

“Yes, Blue, we’ll be fine. Now go! You don’t want to keep the president waiting!” Rouge insisted, pushing the worried hero towards the Tornado.

He twisted around, trying to make eye contact with both of them. “You’re really, really-”

“Sonic.” Shadow said calmly. “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

The hero could practically feel his body untense, finally willing to jump onto the top wing of the biplane and prepare for takeoff. Before Tails fired up the engine, he took one last look at his friends.

Knuckles had walked up beside Rouge and looked like he wanted to put his arm around her waist without being awkward...which just made him look awkward anyway. The bat took the initiative herself, leaning against him comfortably. Her eyes were back to teal again, since she and Shadow had both taken out their contacts pretty quickly.

Rouge had taken off her leather jacket by now, and Sonic could see it lying on the altar next to Omega’s generator- Angel Island was pretty warm, after all. Shadow was still wearing his hoodie, though he’d taken off the glasses. Omega had tried them on once out of curiosity and nearly broken them in the process...so the hybrid simply hadn’t bothered with it after that. His quills were still in a ponytail, which Sonic wasn’t complaining about in the slightest. (It was a good look on him, that was all!)

He switched on his earpiece and settled into his ‘flight’ position once again. “You guys read me?”

“Loud and clear, hon.” Rouge said. “Now go!”

The Tornado’s engine kicked up a roar as the plane wheeled down the clearing and began to lift off the ground. Knuckles and Shadow both waved, while Rouge opted for a mock-salute, which Sonic returned cheerfully as the plane pulled up above the altar.

He crouched low on the top wing as Tails pulled into a turn, angling the plane so that their course was set for Central City yet again. The fox switched on the turbo engine, too, but it would still take them about an hour and a half to reach the city at this rate.

To pass the time, Tails and Omega started talking almost immediately about how they needed to take some time in the workshop to fix up the latter’s various dents and scratches. Both of them seemed pretty excited about this- the former because he’d get to return to his workshop, the latter for style reasons, and both because they’d get to spend time together. Somewhere along the way, Omega insisted loudly that Tails “must return me to my original color as soon as it is possible to do so.”, clearly less than happy about his current paint job.

Sonic sighed as the conversation turned to advanced technical terminology, feeling a little bored. It was a little funny for him to say so, considering that he was blasting through the sky on a biplane going at speeds rivaling advanced jets...but here he was. Bored.

He tapped his feet, trying to look for shapes in the clouds or enjoy the feeling of the wind on his face, anything to avoid checking how long they’d been up in the air….

Too late.

The hero sighed loudly upon discovering that it had only been ten minutes since takeoff. How could something that was usually so cool be so...just...not?

Sonic quickly decided that he had to call up Angel Island right now so that he could find somebody to talk to. As the earpiece patched through to the other end, he heard a sudden “Ngh-” followed by a loud sigh.

“Hey, everything okay there?” he asked, resulting in a startlingly high shriek from the other end.

“Sonic! Don’t do that!” Shadow hissed at him. “Give me a little warning next time!”

“There’s, like, actually no way for me to do that without talking.” Sonic shot back cheerfully, feeling more upbeat already.

“Ugh.” the hybrid groaned, before some sort of thud came through the mike.

“Seriously, though, you okay?”

Shadow sighed. “I’ve spent the past four minutes walking through a tangled, vine-filled forest in any direction that is away from the altar. It could be worse, but it could be better too.”

Sonic frowned, worried. “And why were you walking away from the altar? Are Rouge and Knuckles with you?”

“No.” the hybrid muttered. “They’re kind of busy making out. At the altar. Which is why I’m not there, obviously.”

“Aw, man...they probably just missed each other a lot.”

Shadow sighed. “I know they did, and I’m not judging them. But they deserve some privacy, and I really deserve to not have to watch that.”

Sonic grinned. “Hah! That’s fair. So whatcha doing now?”

“Lying on the ground next to a lake and watching some Flickies on a tree. You?”

“Sitting on the plane. And bored. Or, at least I was. Bored, I mean.” Sonic amended quickly.

The hybrid snickered. “I’d hope you’re still sitting on the plane.”

His smile only grew. Talking with Shadow was always fun- he didn’t know why he hadn’t called sooner!

“Soooo...you feelin’ any better after those power naps of yours?” he asked curiously.

“Actually, yes. Mostly it helps to not be looking over my shoulder all the time.” Shadow sighed again. “It’s…” he trailed off, clearly embarrassed.

“Hey, you can tell me!” Sonic said encouragingly.

“It's difficult to adjust. I...still catch myself looking over my shoulder only to see it’s a fly buzzing, not a plane, or something like that. I shouldn’t be, but I am.”

Sonic wished he was back at the island already so that he could give Shadow all the comfort he deserved. “There won’t be any planes there, Shadow. I mean it. And none of that ‘shouldn’t’ talk, either, ‘kay? It’s alright to be a little stressed, just remember everything’s gonna turn out fine.”

“That means a lot...thank you. Again.”

Sonic could feel a grin spreading across his whole face. “No problem! Now, what I really need to tell ya about is……”

He spent the rest of the flight chatting with the hybrid, catching him up on all the jokes, memes and random news he’d missed over the past couple of weeks. Shadow was eager to listen, and Sonic was so glad to finally be able to tell him everything that he swore he’d never take his friend’s presence for granted again.

Eventually, though, he was pulled back to reality in the middle of a particularly passionate explanation of why exactly it was so cool that the Tomatopotamus 2 movie’s release date was finally out when Tails tapped on his shoulder. “Uh, Sonic? We’re here now.”

“What?” The hero glanced down, only to discover that yes, Central City was in fact right beneath them. “No way, that was like twenty minutes!”

Omega shook his head. “Correction: it has been an hour and twenty minutes.” He sounded smug for some reason, and Sonic glowered at the robot irritably.

“I guess I gotta go for now, sorry.” he sighed into the earpiece.

“Good luck to all three of you.” Shadow said. “I’ll be listening in, and I’ll go break up Knuckles and Rouge now.”

“Good luck to you.” Sonic snickered. He could practically hear Shadow roll his eyes at that one.

They coasted to a stop on the back lawn of the president’s home, the hedgehog pointedly ignoring Tails and Omega’s conversation about the theory of relativity, or something along those lines. Even though he didn’t know what exactly they were talking about, he could guess, and he didn’t approve. At all.

Sonic hopped off the wing of the plane before it had even finished landing the moment he spotted someone on the grass, waving hello as the president herself walked over to greet them. He rushed over to her, taking her hand and shaking it happily.

He and the president had spoken a few times before- being a hero meant he ended up talking with quite a few famous people, but she was one of his favorites. She was relatively young compared to most of the others who had held that title, but she handled herself with the confidence and strength she deserved (and needed) for this station.

“Hey there! How’s the job?” he asked with an understanding grin, knowing all too well how it felt to be responsible for large groups of people at a time.

She dropped his hand (and the remaining air of formality) in favor of running copper fingers tiredly through her hair, letting out a long sigh. “These last few days have been tough, but I know it’s probably not as much stress as you guys have been dealing with. Still sorry about that, by the way.”

Sonic looked up at her, still sympathetic. “It’s not your fault. I bet you’ve probably got a lot on your plate too- dealing with this fallout ain’t gonna be easy.”

“I know, but it’s what I have to do. For your friends, and for everyone.” she said, squaring her shoulders determinedly.

Tails rushed over not long after, having parked and shut down the plane by now. “Hi, Ms. President! How are you?”

“Hello, Tails,” she said. Impressively, she was one of the few adults who refused to talk down to the young fox, instead treating him like the mature person he was. (This definitely earned her a few extra points in Sonic’s book.) “I’m perfectly alright...I hope you all aren’t doing too badly.”

The president had the thoughtfulness to at least look a little awkward at that, clearly embarrassed by the fact that some of the United Federation’s most famed heroes were now essentially unable to live in the country without being in serious danger.

Omega greeted her as well as he made his way over, clearly alright with being at least somewhat decent to the woman who had helped shut down G.U.N.

“Would you like to come inside?” she asked politely. “I promise, there’s nothing inside but some Secret Service...and hopefully cake, if I requested it early enough.” she added with a warmer smile.

“What are we here for?” the robot asked bluntly, unprepared to trust as easily as the two Mobians were.

“Right!” she said, taking his question in stride. “I’m working on a new set of rules with the congressional branch that deal with some of the problems within G.U.N. so that they don’t crop up in the future, as well as trying to figure out what to do with them in general- so I wanted your opinion on both of those subjects! As long as that’s alright with you?”

Shadow spoke up in Sonic’s ear. “Rouge is interested and so am I.”

“Totally!” Sonic chirped, following her inside. Omega agreed with Rouge and Shadow (somewhat reluctantly), having tapped into the hero’s communications as they were landing.

Halfway up the stairs to the president’s office, the first lady came rushing in the opposite direction, apologizing all the while for getting in their way. “Hi, Sonic! Hi Tails! Hello, Omega! So nice to see you! Sorry, the cat’s gotten loose again…” she sighed, sagging against the railing briefly.

“We really need to get him a tracking collar, don’t we?” The president shook her head, her soft Afro bouncing as she pinched the bridge of her nose briefly. “Good luck finding him, anyway.”

“Have fun in your meeting!” the first lady chirped, winking overdramatically at her wife for emphasis before rushing off in search of their cat.

Tails grinned up at the president. “I know how you feel...sometimes I want to get a tracker chip for Sonic when he stays out too long on a run.”

“Hey!” the hero protested, but nobody seemed to be terribly worried about his pride. He could hear Knuckles, Shadow and Rouge laughing in his ear, too, and he pouted, wishing more than anything that he could offer a snappy comeback- but he couldn’t give away the fact that he had an earpiece in.

The president invited them into her office and began to lay out her plans for how to improve the country. The legislative body was working with her on some sort of complete shutdown and restructuring of G.U.N.- it seemed like there were going to be new leaders, new hiring processes, review systems, a different set of priorities…and that was just the start.

It was a lot, but Sonic was glad that she’d at least given them the opportunity to hear about these plans. Shadow and Rouge got to provide their input as well, which was great, but only through Omega, not Sonic. They would’ve trusted the president with that information, for sure, but the two members of the Secret Service behind her desk?

No way.

Especially not when Rouge recognized one of them from G.U.N.’s special training programs. They might not be close enough with the organization for it to really mean anything, but the group definitely didn’t want to take chances.

Partway through the meeting (not long after the cake arrived), the main phone on the president’s desk rang, startling everyone out of their conversation. She picked it up with a calm “Hello?”, but her eyes quickly widened as the person on the other end began to speak.

“Thank you.” she said quickly, before putting the phone down. Her eyes met Sonic’s, and he felt his stomach drop. The hero suddenly wished he hadn’t eaten just yet…

“Three representatives of G.U.N. are at the front gate.” the president said quietly.

The hero heard a gasp in his ear. He wasn’t sure who had done so, but the sound made his surprise morph quickly into defensiveness. “Omega. Tails. Do you guys want to meet with them?” he asked coolly, his face losing most of its expression.

“I would...like to do so.” the robot said.

Tails met Sonic’s gaze. “Yeah, same here.”

They moved to the main conference room, and the three heroes stood at one end of a long table, waiting for the members of G.U.N. to appear. It didn’t take long before they were buzzed in, and Sonic could feel himself shifting into a more confrontational stance, prepared to fight if necessary.

The commander was the first one to enter the room. His presence immediately raised everyone’s tension levels- at the very least, he seemed to be aware of it. He almost looked...a little embarrassed?

The silence on the other end of the communicator was near-deafening.

He was followed almost immediately by an agent that Sonic didn’t recognize, a wolf who seemed more than a little bit awkward and apologetic. She sat down to his left, sneaking glances at each of the three heroes in the room.

After that, a skinny, pale sort of guy entered the room, looking incredibly full of himself. Sonic wasn’t usually one to get bad first impressions of people, but this person irritated him almost immediately. Omega obviously recognized him- and not in a good way- as he began to make several loud clicking noises not unlike those of guns loading. On purpose, of course.

The commander sat down last (still seeming less than comfortable), cleared his throat, and looked up at the other three. “Before I speak, is there anything you would like to say?”

Sonic, Tails and Omega regarded him in stony silence.

He shuffled some of the papers in front of him and sighed quietly. “I would like to begin by apologizing for the distress I and the organization I serve have caused to you and your friends. All of you. I wish...no, I should have handled this in a different manner- requested a meeting, spoken with you first, done something to ensure that my intentions did not appear malicious. But instead…

“...instead I have distanced myself from three of the most skilled people ever to serve under my command, as well as further tarnished G.U.N.’s already ruined reputation. I…” The commander sighed here. This speech was already taking a lot out of him, Sonic could tell.

“I fear that my father’s views have heavily influenced my own, to say the absolute least, especially regarding my job and what needed to be done to serve this organization. ‘Shoot first and ask questions later’ was a favorite motto of his, and one that I accepted for a long, long time...my family has discussed with me lately (and quite gently, perhaps more so than I deserve) about how that ideology is problematic, to say the least.

“I liked to think I was not a bad person. That I was being more open-minded. But now I see that I was foolish to believe as much. I chose to try and salvage G.U.N., to cover up the mistakes as others have done before me because it was ‘for the good of the country’, because ‘other people wouldn’t understand what needs to be done’, and more. My guilty conscience wishes I would blame my father for my mistakes, but at some point, one must take responsibility for one’s own failures.

“Particularly…” and here he looked directly at the three of them, though he almost seemed to be searching for someone else instead, “...having alienated the last person on this planet who truly can comprehend the life I have led.”

Sonic realized with a start that he was talking about Shadow.

“All I can say now is that as of tomorrow, I am resigning as commander of G.U.N. I clearly have not succeeded in improving this organization at all, so I believe a new, younger face...someone without prior biases or contacts...would be better for us now.”

The hero heard gasps in both his ears- one from Rouge and Shadow, the other from the wiry man in front of him. Said human immediately started stammering at the commander, asking him why in the world he thought this was a good idea. The older man in turn merely waved him off with a stern word or two, forcing the other human to sink back into his seat with an obviously displeased expression.

The lavender wolf, the president, Omega, and Tails, on the other hand, all seemed to approve of the commander’s decision, as did Sonic. The hero felt nothing but relief now, hoping that finally, the big things could start to change for the better.

They spoke a little longer, the tensions mostly eased now (with the exception of the skinny guy, of course, who Rouge irritably identified as the less-than-respectful PR officer that the team had spoken to way back in the beginning). The conversation wasn’t very important, just polite nonsense about how change should be made soon and all that.

Things weren’t comfortable by any means, and they shouldn’t have been, but...Sonic felt a little lighter at the thought that someone important in G.U.N. at least accepted what was going on.

As the three heroes left, the commander asked them for one favor. “Could you please tell Shadow and Rouge that I apologize for the way G.U.N. has behaved? The way in which I have commanded this organization is wrong...I can see that now.”

Sonic offered him a quick flash of a grin, realizing that the commander truly didn’t know about his earpiece, nor Omega’s connection. “Hey, being able to apologize says a lot, too. I’ll be sure to let them know, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, and safe travels.”

“You too, alright?” he replied politely, before hopping onto the Tornado with a wave.

The flight back seemed to take forever (really, this time), partly because Sonic was dying to get back and partly because his friends seemed too busy talking seriously to chat. He tried his best to bask in the feeling of hope, but it was difficult to focus when his excitement was rising with each passing second.

As soon as they landed, he jumped off and ran over to his friends. “It’s gonna be alright now, guys!” he said, grinning at them. “You’re gonna go home soon!”

Rouge gave him a big smile back, before rushing over to Omega to celebrate. “Did you hear that, Omega? We’ll be home in a couple of weeks, max! Shadow-”

She trailed off, watching him carefully. The hybrid was staring down at the ground, his hands trembling slightly. “It’s...done? Then what now? What should we do?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and failing miserably. Sonic’s ears drooped a little as he heard the shake in his friend’s voice.

“Now you get to rest. You’ve earned it, you know that? I know it’s tough to just...go back and chill after everything, but you gotta know when to let other people carry on the work ya started, alright?” Sonic said carefully, stepping closer and closer to Shadow. His hands hovered slightly over his friend’s arms, unwilling to touch the hybrid unless he was alright with it first.

Suddenly, Shadow leaned into Sonic’s chest, his eyes shut tightly, clearly fighting back some sort of emotion. The hero held his friend tightly, sinking to his knees in an attempt to comfort Shadow better. Rouge and Omega rushed over, holding him tight as well. “Hey…” the bat said gently, “Shadow, we’re all going to be okay, I promise. We can stop now.”

“How do we know? What if something happens and it all goes wrong-”

Sonic stopped him right there. “We can set up whatever you need to feel comfortable, but trust me, we’ll all make sure nothing goes wrong. I’ll hold the president to her word, and so will everyone else here.”

“But...nobody’s ever really been able to stop G.U.N. before...not even me.” Shadow said quietly.

“There are more people on your side now, Shadow.” Omega replied, looking down at him. “You are not alone in this fight- so many others want this too.”

“I’ll have to wait and see before I can believe that.” he muttered, sighing.

Tails and Knuckles walked over too, the former offering him a hopeful smile and the latter clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You guys can stay here a while longer, I guess, until everything’s sorted out.” the echidna said, trying his best to help.

“Yeah!” Sonic cheered. “We’ll make sure this all gets fixed up properly, alright?”

Shadow smiled faintly at him. “I’ll hold you to that, Sonic.”

The hero couldn’t help but grin back, all his hope for his friend bursting through. And when Shadow’s smile grew just that little bit more real, he was determined to do absolutely whatever it took to make the hybrid smile properly again and again, without any fear holding him back.

He knew, without a doubt, that Shadow was more than deserving of all the happiness in the world.

#shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #knuckles the echidna #whoa that's a lot of people #scars you can't see #sycs #sol's fanfiction #i almost thought i wouldn't be able to get this out in time...#life has decided to throw lots of work at me so the last chapter might be a couple of days late #we'll see #also a few clarifications:#the commander is beginning to realize that his father taught him about the world in a very very biased way #and feels pretty bad about it #i didn't know how to end this since it was the chapter with the least planning behind it #so hopefully it turned out alright #and finally #i tried to make it clear that the president is Black but in a respectful way #if i failed to do that then please please please let me know and i will change it #also hopefully shadow wasn't too ooc at the end there #:S #hope you enjoyed the update and have a wonderful day!

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be-dazzled · 4 years

Note

Hey! Can you do a prompt where gray is jealous and juvia has no clue. Thanks!!

Writer’s Corner: Here you go! I’ve been watching a lot of video clips of the new FT Game and got some inspiration to write! And it surprised me how straight and fast I did this one. Like, straight and pure English words. Phew! Hope you like this.

Masterlist

Prompt: Jealous Gray and Juvia Doesn’t Know

Finally. Finally, Gray and Juvia finished the fight with that odd Dodecapus – a sea creature with twelve tentacles – wreaking havoc on the small town. But in Gray’s opinion, they could have finished the job far earlier than they actually did. He couldn’t help but think that maybe, he and Juvia fell out of sync. It had been awhile since they went on a job together. Maybe, they should train and take job requests together more often; that would solve the problem.

He stretched his arms behind his head and cracked his neck from right to left. Damn, that felt good. Every muscle in his body was sore and not the good kind. That freaking Dedocapus did him good; wouldn’t back down without a fight, that silly thing. Gray really needed to get some rest. He wondered if Juvia would be okay to postpone the travel home to tomorrow. She probably would. Remembering how she had wanted to spend the night together before, just the two of them, he was almost certain she’d agree. A silly smile crept up his face and his eyes wandered over at the Water Mage walking distractedly beside him. Yeah! That’s right. Juvia had been distracted since they came to town. Could it be the reason it took them a little over half a day to fight the Dedocapus? Because she couldn’t focus? It wasn’t her usual ‘Gray-sama Trance’ distraction either. So, should he be worried?

“Juvia.” He called out but it seemed like the water mage didn’t hear him say her name. She was still very much preoccupied, looking out to her left and right as if expecting something would just jump at her out of the blue.

Now, he was worried.

He stopped and turned fully to her, bumping into the woman who walked right into him. Gray caught her by the arms and helped her steady herself.

“Are you alright?” He tried very much to keep the worry out of his voice, which was unnecessary since Juvia didn’t seem to hear him ask.

She just looked at him, dazed for a second, before she regained her composure and slapped that practiced smile across her face. They were together for too long for Gray not to recognize that fake smile.

Well, not together “together” but…

“Juvia apologizes, Gray-sama. She must not have seen you for a moment there.”

Juvia not seeing him even for a second? Now, he should really, really be worried. Gray withdrew his hands before Juvia get the wrong idea and kept them in his pockets.

“Well, yeah. You seem… out of it.” Gray could see her think for a moment. Then, she seemed to have reached a decision and, to dispel any of his worries, Juvia put up a brighter personality, raising her fists in the air and declared, “Juvia will be more mindful.”

Knowing Juvia, she’d rather keep to herself whatever it was that was bothering her in order not to be a burden to him. He’d really wish she’d tell him but Gray was never one to push. He would wait until she was ready. For the meantime, he asked Juvia about postponing the travel home and maybe the next day, when she was feeling a bit better, he’d ask her to stroll around the town. He’d make up some lame excuse about buying everyone souvenirs, which if anyone who’d hear would call bull.

“Would you mind if we stay in this town for a while? I’d like to catch up for some much needed rest and–”

“–Juvia-san?”

An unfamiliar voice called out from behind the Water Mage. Unlike Gray, Juvia seemed to recognize it. She turned around to meet the owner of the voice while Gray searched his memory for that parted black and white hair walking up to them.

“Totomaru-san?”

Then, it hit Gray. This guy was one of Phantom Lord’s Element 4 and Juvia’s acquaintance. But the same guy that hurt his friends. A bitter taste burned in Gray’s stomach as that bright smile crept up that Totomaru-san’s face, looking so happy to see them – to see Juvia. Gray glanced at his partner to check if she was reacting to him the same.

She was.

Totomaru caught up with them, smiling ear to ear to see Juvia.

“Wow, it really is you.” He looked momentarily taken-aback, an amused smile freezing on his face. “Didn’t recognize you without the…” Gray inwardly snickered watching the man, as if in a game of charades, motion to refer to Juvia’s old hairstyle. “Without the rolled hair.” He finished when none of them could guess what he was referring to with that silly bounce of his open palm. Gray guessed but he wasn’t feeling too friendly to engage.

“Are you guys… visiting?”

Gray liked the hesitance he could sense from this Toto-whatever punk. He was probably thinking he and Juvia came to town together, which was actually the case. Not in the sense that Toto-whatever might have thought but still…

“No, Totomaru-san. Gray-sama and Juvia are here for a mission.”

“Oh, good!”

But he didn’t like the sudden rush of relief and a new confidence found by Totomaru-bastard.

“Would you like to get-together while you’re in town? It’s been a while since I last saw you.”

And definitely hated that slimmer of hope shining in his black goofy eyes. The bastard.

“W-well…”

Gray crossed his arms, a bit elated at Juvia’s hesitation. ‘That’s it, Juvia. Say no,’ the smug on his face said.

“Gray-sama did say he wanted to stay awhile longer.” She glanced at him with a sheepish smile – a bit asking and a bit expectant.

Gray dropped his arms and coughed into his fist to bid some time to recover. Well, he wasn’t expecting that. He didn’t expect Juvia would actually like to hang around that guy. But Gray had yet to make a decision when Totomaru chided in.

“I can show you around town then.” He pushed. “A lot has changed since you moved to Magnolia.”

That bastard was treating Gray like he wasn’t standing there. He probably didn’t notice the Ice Make mage since that punk’s eyes were laser-focused on Juvia.

His Juvia.

“I mean, look at you. You even got prettier.”

“Thank you, Totomaru-san.” Juvia beamed at him, blushing at the compliment.

It didn’t sit well with Gray but he shouldn’t be getting pissed at someone giving Juvia a compliment. There was nothing wrong with someone complimenting Juvia because she really was pretty. Always been pretty. Very much attractive, if he’d let himself admit. He eyed the man who called Juvia pretty, looking him from head to toe, sizing him up. Totoma-whatever didn’t look so bad but he had nothing compared to Gray, of course. He was Gray-sama to Juvia, the best guy that ever existed on this planet. Juvia adored him. Remembering that, Gray’s confident smirk returned. Hah. That Totoma-punk could keep dreaming on. Juvia was devoted to Gray. She was his.

But Totoma-punk made her smile with that silly compliment.

His gloating smirk quickly dropped and getting ‘pissed’ at a simple compliment became the understatement of the century because a vein in his head was about to pop.

“Gray-sama?”

He withdrew his ‘not so discreet’ glare from the fire-prick and looked at Juvia.

“If Gray-sama isn’t too tired, maybe we could…”

“I guess. We wouldn’t be able to catch the train anyway.”

Juvia chirped, clapping her hand together and declaring that it’s a date.

Forget the sore muscles. Forget his tired feet. Forget his body screaming for a rest. He wasn’t going to let that Totomastard (Totomaru the bastard) be alone with Juvia. No way.

…

Gray wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t. In fact, you could never put the words Gray and jealous in one sentence. Never. He just hated the guy. Hated the man who hurt his friends. Yeah, that’s why he was so ready to throw his fist down the bastard’s throat. That’s the only reason. That’s all there was to it, really. Totomastard was a former Fairy Tail enemy.

But weren’t Juvia and Gajeel also a former enemy of Fairy Tail? Gray said don’t ruin his reason with logic.

“I’ll go get us more beer.” Totomaru excused himself from their table in the town’s famous open night market.

When he walked out of earshot, Gray could feel the tension from his shoulders go away and he could finally breathe. The bastard could really taaaaalk, reminiscing about the memories which didn’t include Gray. Granting, it was a ‘Phantom Lord Days’ memory which really did not include him, Gray still felt like the Fire Mage, and apparently, Romeo’s Magic teacher, went out of his way to make him feel out of place. He snickered. Phantom Lord my ass. She’s ours now. She’s Fairy Tail’s. Besides, it didn’t even sound like they were actually close.

“Does Gray-sama not like this place? Juvia can ask Totomaru-san to find a new–”

“–It’s fine, Juvia.” He stopped cracking his neck and pretended like he was just scratching the back of his head.

“If Gray-sama is tired, we can end the night early.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” He shot back what remained of his beer and smashed the can on the table with his fist. He only noticed now the other two crushed beer cans next to him. “Besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself.” He gave her a small smile so Juvia would stop worrying about him.

“Oh, right. It’s just… it’s been a while since Juvia returned to Oaktown.”

Upon mentioning the name of the town, it suddenly hit Gray. He hated himself for not noticing it earlier or not remembering about the town when he first read the name on the job request.

“You used to live here, right?” Idiot. That’s why she was so distracted earlier. “Before you transferred to Fairy Tail?”

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. You are a freaking, dumb-ass droopy eyes. He could hear Natsu’s voice in his head.

“Yes.” Juvia took another sip from her own can like a lady.

“Is that why you were so…” He stopped himself before he could say something that Juvia would take to blame herself. “I mean, you were kinda out of it, is all.”

“The people around here used to be afraid of Juvia, the Rain Woman.”

Gray could clearly picture out what ugly memory brought that gloom in her usually bright blue eyes. The alcohol might have helped too so he was going to take that away from her. Alcohol and Juvia never mixed well together. Gray grabbed the can from her hand and finished it.

“Well, that’s all in the past now.” So was Totomaru. He flattened the can again and tossed the crumpled tin can next to the others. He might have been very casual when he said it but the words helped her, somehow, because now she was staring at the group of crushed beer cans on their table. The sorrow that wet her eyes quickly disappeared and replaced with something Gray was more accustomed with.

“K-k-kiss.”

“What?”

“I-i-indirect k-kiss!”

Gray wasn’t sure anymore if it were his words that brought her out of that dreadful memory.

“Oi! Were you even listening?!”

…

“I-I don’t remember you being this… h-heavy.” Gray grunted, expelling a long breath. Juvia wasn’t really that heavy but Gray wasn’t in the condition to carry her all the way to their hotel room after all that fighting with a weird sea creature and hating on Juvia’s former guild-mate.

“Juvia is heavy?” The Water Mage fell out of the bed Gray put her on, bawling her eyes out at his comment. Great. He managed to insult the sad drunk. Didn’t Erza warn him never to talk about a woman’s weight? Now, cue in the water works.

“Oi!” Gray aimed to pull her up and put her back to bed but Juvia surprised him when she pulled him down with her on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, threw her arms around him and cried against his chest, mumbling about her endless efforts to lose weight.

“That’s not… you’re not… you’re not heavy. I was just… Forget what I said.”

But she kept crying into his chest, wetting his shirt with her river of tears. Gray let her, getting used to this Juvia – the sad drunk. He tried to soothe her, stroking her hair and patting her back. After her cries died down to just bouts of sobs, Juvia pulled away from Gray, but only far enough so she could look at him right into his onyx eyes. What she did next shocked Gray’s soul out of his body. Now, he had to add ‘hits people’ to Juvia’s drunken mannerisms.

“Why would Gray-sama not take advantage of Juvia?”

“What?!”

“Even when it’s just the two of us, Gray-sama wouldn’t make a move on Juvia.”

“I’m not that kind of guy.”

Gray could still feel the heat of Juvia’s palm on his cheek. Man, that woman’s slap was something. Undeniably, Juvia was one of the strongest wizards in Fairy Tail. But instead of getting mad, Gray was smiling. He was quite amused, honestly. Sober Juvia would never ever hit him like that.

Wow.

Then, sad drunk Juvia started hitting him again. The later ones didn’t have much strength and intention than the first slap. But they still hurt so Gray caught her wrists in each hand to stop her from striking him.

“Everyone’s hitting on Juvia but Gray-sama wouldn’t even make a move.” She accused between sniffs.

“W-w-what? Who?! Totomaru?” Gray could feel his blood boiling. He was right! He was right, all along! That guy was pretending to ‘get together’ when he was really planning on stealing Juvia away. What a prick! “When? When I left to take a leak?”

He wanted to hit himself for leaving Juvia alone with that bastard.

“Gray-sama was even making googly eyes with Totomaru-san.”

“What the hell! When did I ever do that?”

“Gray-sama never looked at Juvia with such passion.”

Of course, it was with passion, Gray thought. Passion to throw the guy off some building.

“I was glaring at that bastard!”

“Glaring?”

What were left from Juvia’s sobbing were occasional hiccups as she studied Gray for a moment, analyzing what he just said. Then, the hitting started again.

“Why wouldn’t Gray-sama pay attention to Juvia like that?”

Oh, hell. There was no reasoning out with a drunken woman. So, Gray pulled her back against him, wounded his arms around her so tightly that she couldn’t even move a muscle. She tried to wiggle her way out of his hold, to hit him some more he guessed, but Gray was determined and very much sobered up. What, from all the hits he took from her that would last him a lifetime? Any alcohol from his body was whooshed out by the first slap.

When the alcohol started to wear out and Juvia finally calmed down, Gray decided it was time he also gets some rest. He lifted Juvia off the floor, carrying her on both arms. His actions didn’t seem to startle her but quite the opposite effect. Juvia snuggled comfortably against his chest, mumbling something about warmth. Gray just wrote it off as drunken talk and gently lowered Juvia on the double mattress and tucked her in. She looked peaceful now that she was fast asleep. Finally, Gray could get himself some shut-eye. As he looked around to find his own place in the room to sleep for tonight, his eyes caught the glow on her tear-stricken face as the moonlight seeped through the window and hit her cheek. He dried the tears with the back of his hand, a bit guilty for causing those tears that tainted her beautiful face.

“Beautiful.” He whispered. “I don’t even know how it’s possible.” Gray knelt beside the bed, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind Juvia’s ear. “Everyday you grow even more beautiful.” But his smile was strained by something he’d been keeping to himself for a very long time. “So, if I make a move on you, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back.”

Gray closed his eyes, every moment of him wanting to give in to his feelings played in his head. He took a deep breath to ease the burden he’d caged in his heart. He convinced himself he needed to be more patient. As soon as he opened them, Gray’s onyx eyes sought her lips. He started to lean in, to allow himself a taste of something he’d deprived himself. But when their lips were about to touch, a voice in his head had kept him from impulsively giving into his desire once again. It wasn’t right to steal a kiss from Juvia while she was asleep. He wasn’t that kind of guy. Sometimes, he’d hate himself for not being that kind of guy. But Juvia was too special for him to disrespect her like that. So, like always, Gray held himself back. He pressed a kiss on her forehead instead, rose to his height and slept in a corner of the room, as far away from Juvia as possible.

#gray x juvia #gruvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #gruvia drabble #ask me

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