#the thread i am hanging on by is quite thin actually why do i care so much why do i care so little im going to explode right meow!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamrecorder · 3 years

Note

Ok so- idk if you’ve seen demon slayer;; but there’s this episode (it was during the spider fambam arc) aNywaYs- so like. Rui yeets ties* (i guess-) Nezuko like. Up in the air. With his weird spider thread jazz— and like. It’s sHarP weird spider thread jazz— so she’s like. Yknow. Being sliced and diced with string— but it kindaaa reminds me of like. Xiao. And his like.... weird... sad.... uh. Karma. Thing. Like y’know where he’s like hanging from his arms- red stuff. Yeah. So like. Now for the actual request

Xiao’s s/o (female if you don’t mind;;) gets kidnapped by like— the fatui or smth. And they tie her up like Nezuko :D to be like “lol haha Xiao be all like-” and she’s just. Like. Dying. Slowly. Dripping b l o o d and yknow. All the tea. And Xiao comes to rescue her— and he’s like 0-0 “wait...” and he realizes that’s like- exactly what happens to him- and so. He beats the fatui’s butts saves his s/o, anddddd she like.

Idk. This is where I need your angst expertise ❤️ like- she could d i e. In his arms. And poor Xiao would be so scarred omg poor thing- BUT THE ANGST- but at the same time;;;; the f l u f f of him being able to save her just in time and she was like fighting for him the whole time or whatever and ended up needing him to save her anyways- and then Xiao feeding her almond tofu until she gets better ❤️❤️❤️

IM SORRY THAT WAS SO LONG- im probably going crazy from lack of sleep from reading fics for too long sndndnsnsj

But if you do this,,, BLESS YOUR SOUL I HOPE TO EITHER BALL MY EYES OUT OR SQUEAL FROM THE WHOLESOMENESS-

Anyways.... thank you! Have a stellar day~ ✨❤️

The heart yearns and the wind heard

lmao this ask is so adorable i hope you’d enjoy this ksks

anyway, full Angst train up ahead but there are moments of Fluff too. There are mentions of blood and violence if those are not your thing- dont worry guys, this goes with a happy ending cos you and Xiao deserve one~ on a final note- non canon compliant and suuuuuuper long- like- legit this is very long

The Yaksha sighs.

He’s here again. His mind and heart has returned his being into this crimson world his demons have created within him.

He feels it. He feels the corruption binding him tighter again for every death he brings by his tainted hands.

He looks at his bindings. And ever so slowly, the red and black coiling around his person will eventually reach his heart.

One day, he thinks, all this crimson and black in this world will swallow him whole and he will see the light no more.

Xiao sighs again.

This is his karmic debt.

The moment you stepped foot within Wangshu Inn, you knew he was in his prison again. After giving a quick greeting to the inn keeper, you hastily went to Xiao’s room. The closer you got, the heavier the atmosphere became.

You reached his door and knocked softly. As expected, no reply as he continues to struggle to take back his control over himself. Without hesitation, you stepped in. To anyone else, they would have instantly met his spear at their throats, but with you, this doesn’t happen. Instead, you see him crouched on the wooden floor with a hand on his chest. His knuckles were white and his breathing was ragged. His amber eyes- lost. Observing his form, yes… his moments of corruption are becoming progressively worse.

With swift steps of familiarity to this routine, you went to him and grasped his shoulders.

“Xiao, it’s me…” You whispered with clarity. And oh- how your voice brought a wave of comfort to his soul.

“N-name…” His voice cracked, but him calling to you is always a good sign.

You gave him a small smile and proceeded to grasp his hands together with yours. After which, you then leaned your forehead to his to chant your prayers. As your prayers progressed, slowly but surely, the corruption begins to fade along with the black mist that covered him. However, you took note how this ritual took longer than the last.

Once everything is done, Xiao just slumped onto your shoulders, still breathing deeply. “How are you feeling?” It was a useless question you asked every time this happens, but you always, always, have to make sure.

Usually, he would mutter a small ‘fine,’ but now- words seemed to have left his mind and all he could muster was an almost-unnoticeable shrug.

Truth be told- his response disheartened you, but you did not show it. Instead, you opted to simply encase him in your arms and caress his hair. After all, these are just one of the few, rare moments Xiao would leave himself into your care. Xiao is aware, himself, that his state has been becoming worse and worse. And you both know, that a day would come when he would just attack anyone- friend or foe- without a trace of hesitation. So, just this time- he speaks his feelings.

“Name?”

You answered immediately with a questioning hum.

“What would you do… when I finally lose control over myself?”

It was very subtle, but he felt how your hand stopped caressing his hair for a second, then proceeded to the previous task at hand again. In all honestly, you can never find yourself having an answer to that question. “And why would I ever let that happen to you?” You questioned back, fully aware that you were dodging his question.

Silence surrounded the two of you, unsure on what to do with the sudden heavier atmosphere.

Not wanting to face the cruelty of the world yet, Xiao simply buried himself on the crook of your neck even more. And despite the ghostly sensation of his lips on your skin, you could feel him mouth the words ‘I love you.’

“As long as I’m here,” you whispered, “nothing can hurt you.” And that was the most beautiful lie that the Yaksha has heard, but he was willing to believe all the same.

When word about Fatui diplomats starting a bank reached you, there was a nagging feeling in your head that trouble would bring itself present anytime soon. It was like an itch that wouldn’t get away. And the only way to have that itch gone is to scratch it.

“You are absolutely a fool.” Xiao stated darkly with crossed arms, for once disagreeing with the plans of his master.

“We can never know what their intentions are unless we let them start their bank, no?” Zhongli said as he gazed at the marsh spread beneath him.

The Yaksha only scoffed but said no more.

Building up your courage, you deemed it was your turn to voice out your thoughts, “Um… Rex Lapis, I see your point, but wouldn’t it be best to resolve the problem before it persists into something larger? We all know- All of Teyvat knows, that the Fatui are not to be trusted.”

Your archon offered you a kind smile, “I understand your worries, Name. However, as of the moment, they have not presented themselves as such. If they truly are our enemies, then it would be beneficial for us to know their intentions.”

You frowned deeply at his statement. Seeing you do so, somehow, your archon immediately identified your main concern.

“Is this about the Tianquan assigning you to be her representative for the Fatui?”

The moment those words left his mouth, a growl tore from Xiao’s throat, but he held his tongue.

“Did Ganyu tell you?”

The Archon nodded and you sighed.

“I volunteered, actually.”

And at that point, Xiao vanished into thin hair, but you could still his sense his presence around.

“May I know why?” Zhongli questioned gently.

For a moment, you struggled for words. You didn’t know how to describe this ‘itch’ to him. “At first, it was supposed to be Ganyu, since in the Tianquan’s eyes- Ganyu is an adeptus and she does not know that I am, too. Perhaps she didn’t want to put me in harm’s way, a ‘visionless human’ at the side of a harbinger. After some convincing to Ningguang for my volunteering, I spoke to Ganyu next.

“The adepti are divine beings that walk here in Liyue. I had this feeling that putting a divine next to a power-hungry harbinger would become an issue. I told Ganyu that, since I looked ‘harmless’ and ‘ordinary,’ the harbinger’s interest about the divine would never surface.”

A stretch of silence wrapped around them as Zhongli pondered over your words. “Perhaps, are you also planning to dig out the truth of their arrival?”

You nodded, “I knew you would allow them to stay, so I just took it upon myself to unfurl their secrets.”

“Hmmm… I grant you permission on doing this. However, should trouble arise, do not hesitate to tell us.”

The glare pointed at you was strong. Even without him saying a single word, you could hear his phantom voice in your head speak with such coldness, What are you thinking?

You simply gave him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine, Xiao. I may be a human in mortal eyes, but please do remember that I am also an adeptus, no matter how weak I am.”

Xiao releases a huff, but still sits by your side at the floor of the balcony, letting the moon kiss his skin. “You’re not weak.” He mumbled as he snaked his hand to yours.

To him, you will never be weak. In fact, you were the strongest being he has ever laid his eyes on. Not physically, no. It was you mental and emotional fortitude. Back during the Archon War, he always admired how you kept your head held up high no matter the suffering you have experienced. No matter how much death surrounded you, you still fought. And that strength made you a survivor. During the war, you never failed to help the wounded. Even when someone dies under your care, you held strong for the departed and for those who are left behind. You were a pillar of hope.

He brings your hand to his lips and kisses every knuckle “… Just be careful. If ever you are in trouble do not-“

“Hesitate to call your name.” You finished, beaming at his words.

As someone who used to be a healer and a doctor, you were quite familiar with several mild skin diseases that mortals can suffer from.

If there is an itch, you do not scratch it- for you will only aggravate the area even more.

Now that you’re working alongside the Fatui as the Tianquan’s representative, the itch you kept feeling was only irritated more. Especially whenever you spoke with the Harbinger who goes by the name Childe. And since your work requires you to cooperate with him, you also don’t miss the chance to discover what he hides, should the opportunity presents itself.

Childe… his azure eyes certainly have their… charm to those unaware. However, you knew better. You know he’s capable of drowning you just by his eyes. While he may be a cheerful man, his eyes lack the lustre of joy. The eyes are the windows of the soul, yes? If so, all you see is an unending ocean that you do not want to swim in. The surface may be calm, but the deep is relentless. However, duty bound you are- deep within the ocean, you shall find the secrets the Fatui hides.

Again, another scratch to the itch, but it only irritates you more.

The news of Rex Lapis’s death became the catalyst of you confronting the Harbinger. From Yujeng Terrace all the way to Northland Bank, you ran (with Ningguang’s permission of course). Before you can even open the door to his office, something caught your eye.

It’s faint, but you’re an adeptus. You sensed elemental traces, just smack bang at the middle of the door. You carefully scrutinized the tracings, and fortunately you knew Snezhnayan script. And what you read only made your heart sink.

It’s ready.

With the adeptal arts, you managed to uncover the origins of these elemental tracings.

Scratch.

Without hesitation, you followed these tracings until it led you into some ruins.

Scratch.

Following the tracings further, you find yourself in a dimly lit room. Wary, you summoned your weapon imbued with your element.

Scratch.

Searching the room, you came across several antique boxes. You opened them.

Scratch.

What you saw were familiar. Too familiar. Dimming the room more with your element, you find more Sigils of Permission hanging on the walls and on the ceilings. The energy within them were faint, but with enough numbers, it’s enough to kill a-

“Well, well well, I thought you’d be there mourning for your Archon. But here you are, snooping around someone else’s research material.”

The sound of his voice made you sharply turn your head to him, your stance now more offensive. “What are you planning?” You bit coldly.

The Harbinger hummed a small tune, “Nothing much… But! If you’re really curious, I guess I could tell you.” He hummed some more but you knew he’s not finished. Once he finished his tune, he grinned to you menacingly and the depths in his eyes became even deeper and darker, “After all, I won’t let you leave this place with you knowing my secret~”

There was this one time, Xiao struggled against himself so much, he scratched himself red so that he could anchor himself back to the real world. You remembered how much you cried as he slept in your arms. You never wanted to see him do that again. Seeing him hurt himself also hurt you, too. It was like a stab in the heart, then a twist, and twist some more. A slap in the reality that you might lose him one day.

As he slept, you solemnly observed the wounds he sustained himself to. They were angry red, just like blood.

Now, you, yourself scratched that itch in your head too much into a wound for blood to seep through. You scratched too much and now you have to bleed from it.

You were slipping in and out of consciousness. Sleep was tempting you more and more but you know you have to wake up. You were aware that this is going on for days.

Everything hurts. You remembered how his blades, imbued with the Sigils, weakened you thoroughly. Every slash he brought to your body just drained the energy away from you. But still you had to do something.

He wanted an adeptus- he wanted an adeptus in order for the Sigils to grow stronger both in number and in power.

Now here you are, bound by chains and suspended at the middle of this empty room. These chains were adorned by talismans that drained away your energy. You were bleeding from your wounds of your previous battle.

Drip. Drip. Drip goes the blood and pools on the ground underneath you. The ground, you barely noticed, was lined by Liyuean script which enacts the ritual of the Sigils draining your divine power from your blood.

To the eyes of a sadist- you were a picture perfect in a canvas. A dark room lined by the damned Sigils, glowing an eerie gold. Then there's you with your bloodied clothes and chains. The red pool underneath was casting a red glow on your way, giving you a red shade to your pale skin.

Everything hurts-

And everything was driving you mad.

You can also feel the Overlord of the Vortex feed from your energy through the Sigils. You sensed his lust for power and revenge. You felt his anger and the corruption within him. You felt his hatred and his want to bring death. For days that felt like years, you’ve been battling against that very same god in your head. This battle was not something you shall not lose to and failure is not an option. If you fail here, then Liyue will fall.

This god- he was driving you mad slowly.

If ever you are in trouble, do not hesitate to call my-

You shut the thought from your head. You are not going to call him. You will not speak of him. You will not think of him. You will not call him. Not to this place where his corruption will grow. No. You Will Not Call Him.

If it means that me not calling you will keep you safe from the corrupted remnant of a god- so be it.

Please

However, no matter how much you denied yourself to call his name, no matter how much your heart yearns to be with him- the wind does not ignore the pained sob that left your lips.

Ever since the news of Rex Lapis's death and the visit of the Traveler with a Sigil in his hand- the corruption within him just bloomed into something feral.

The Sigil- there was something wrong about it but Xiao doesn't know what is it that is wrong. Then there's you- where are you? Surely with the news of their Archon's death- it would send you to bring forth a meeting for the adepti to talk this over. But now- for days- you remain not by his side.

With you missing- the demons inside him are slowly taking control over him, taking advantage of his vulnerability for you. For each passing day, it was slow torture for him- The worry bubbling in him was consuming him. He glared at the Sigil between his fingers and not failing to notice how his dark aura covers him once more.

“Traveler,” Xiao called sharply, “What is it you intend to do next?”

To any mere mortal, the look his eyes held were enough to strike fear, but the Traveler stealed themselves- meeting the adeptus’s gaze with an equally serious calm. “I have my suspicions on a certain harbinger and I-”

“Where?” The Yaksha growled.

“In the Golden House.”

Without a word nor warning, Xiao placed a hand on the Traveler’s shoulder and teleported them to the place where the Exuvia is hidden.

To the Traveler, everything happened so quickly as one event led to another. One moment, they were standing among unconscious bodies of the Millelith then the next thing they knew a corrupted and demonic gust of wind flew them away to the side. Regaining back their vision, they could see Alatus’s spear now at Tartaglia’s barrier made of Sigils.

Alatus narrowed his eyes at the floating talismans and began to calculate the flow of this incoming battle with precision and accuracy despite his losing control over himself.

It was a tense minute of sizing each other up, but eventually, Tartaglia has broken the silence with his annoying innocent voice.

“Who would have thought that I’d have the honor of fighting another adeptus of Liyue?”

The question immediately fed the corruption within him, the dark aura exploding at it. He knew that he should not believe in the Harbinger’s words so easily, but the glint in the latter’s eyes held truth. You could be out there, hurting, scared, alone. You could be out there, bleeding out. You could be out there dyi-

His aura exploded once more at the thoughts spreading in his being. With a burst of unspeakable power, Alatus lifted his weapon and pierced the barrier once more, this time breaking it without failure. At the threat, Tartaglia backed away as he donned his mask.

In a similar fashion, Alatus, too donned his mask. “I will ask you once,” the Conqueror of Demons spoke with a deathly calm, “Where is she?”

He should have killed him then and there. But the call of the Overlord of the Vortex must not be ignored as it threatens Liyue.

In the small opportunity of escape, Childe took it. But he was weak and injured as Alatus swiftly threw his spear to block his way and teleported right in front of him. In a show of power, the Conqueror of Demons lifted the mortal by the neck.

“I will ask you again, where is she?”

In fear, Childe told him everything and at his every word, Xiao listened carefully- never speaking once. But the anger within his heart, it boils- it rages. His amber eyes bored into Childe’s soul- thinking what he should do to this mortal. Oh how killing him would be so nice. However, when the Yaksha’s gaze landed on the regal form of the Exuvia, he merely threw the mortal in its way.

“Killing you would have been easier. However, the crimes you have presented against Liyue are not mine for me to judge.

I leave the Harbinger to you... Rex Lapis.”

Once out of the Golden House, the Overlord roared once more, shaking the lands of the nation. However, along with it, he heard the faintest of voices. I’m so sorry... I couldn’t hold him back anymore.

Only then did the demons in his heart freely took control of him. Just like the stories of old, where the Yaksha walks, death follows. But they were no stories. In his way towards the ruins where you were held captive, every step he took brought carnage and even more death and blood to taint his hands. No Fatui will leave this place alive. The very being of destruction ended many lives. Each death, the demons were growing stronger.

All he wanted now was to kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill killkillkill killkill kill killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill

Then seeing you suspended in the ceiling and bound by chains. Blood was painted on your lifeless skin. Wounds were littered and bruises were blooming on your form. But most of all, your eyes. What were once full of life and hope- now empty and blank. His demons quieted down.

Broken. You were like a broken porcelain doll.

“N-name...” His voice cracked, not believing it all.

With haste, he quickly broke your binds and caught you in his arms. he was fast to check for your pulse and your breathing. And thank the Archons, you were breathing but barely. You were now walking the line between life and death. With all his might yet a gentle caress, he hugged you for dear life. “Name... It’s me...”

But still, your eyes still held no recognition and it shattered his heart to pieces. With further inspection, he sensed the presence within you. A corruption. A certain evil.

“Name, stay with me please,” Xiao begged with desperation as he fought back tears. “It’s me who supposed to be the corrupted one between us, not you... I’m not allowing you to leave me, you hear me-”

With a ritual of the adeptal arts, he started purging and purifying the evil left by the god who fed from you. He is not letting you stay alone in your prison, not for a second longer.

Xiao prays and he never prayed before. Even to his master. But just this once, He prays with desperation. You are the light in his darkness. You are the moon in his night.

The ritual was a delicate process. For every word he spoke, he was rewarded by your screams of pain and the writhing of your fragile body. He wanted to stop, but he can’t. He had to physically restrain you from trying to escape from his embrace and from hurting yourself. And for every cry you released, Xiao merely shuts his eyes clos just for him not to see your pained eyes. Every now and then, Xiao speaks gentle apologies and words of encouragement for you. You were coming back. But still, the evil persists.

You writhed and scratched against him, until you were creating more wounds for blood to seep through. When it came to a point, you began pleading and begging for him to stop, that was when Xiao had shed a tear. So he continues the ritual, his prayers, and his apologies. They were arriving to a point where the ritual is reaching its conclusion but your screams only grew louder.

Please, just a little more...

Please, just stop...

Please...

The corruption disintegrated away from you in a forceful release of dark energy. He was breathing deeply, attempting to calm his loud heart. When he placed his gaze on you, you were breathing rapidly and your eyes were searching blindly and your hands were desperately holding onto him.

“X-Xiao...” You whispered, “Where am I? Where are you?”

With a sigh of relief, the Yaksha hugged you again closer and his forehead to yours, fearing you would go away again. The action made you lift your hands to his face, still searching blindly.

“I’m here, Name... I’m here.” At his voice, the dam in your eyes broke as you cried silently. Xiao was not adept in emotions, but for you, he will face them gladly. He lets you cry as he gives you soft whispers of assurance, safety, love, and promises. However, you were not crying because of what had happened to you. You were crying for him. After experiencing such corruption-

You sobbed some more- you were this close to him losing you and you could not bring yourself to imagine if your roles were reversed.

“P-please,” you said with a broken voice, “please don’t go to the place where I can’t follow...’

The words, at first puzzled him, but after a few moments, he realized and once more it broke his heart. Bringing you closer, Xiao let loose the tears he was holding back. With a gentleness unexpected of the Conqueror, he simply littered your face with kisses. “I promise if only you would do the same.”

With your smile that he loved dearly for so long you too spoke your promise, “I do.” They were simply two words, but the comfort they bring into the Yaksha’s heart was in volumes.

After that, you shared a few tender moments in each other’s arms. Simply relishing the feeling of their familiar warmth. A little later, Xiao spoke, “Would you like to eat some Almond Tofu once we get home?”

The question made you giggle at his innocence, so you agreed. Despite you needing physical medical attention. But Almond Tofu with him? Yes, you two definitely need some emotional healing.

A/N: fINALLY dONE lmao this was supposed to be short but angst really makes me want to write longer everytime haha~ anyway this request really made me ponder bout genshin stuff with all the corruption this and corruption that but then a question popped up like-

how did childe replicate the sigil of permission? since sigils are imbued with divine energy, i just thought how did this guy accumulate so much sigils to the point of freeing Osial- a god!!! soooo i just played with the idea for a bit then figured out maybe these pieces of paper get the divine energy from a divine source right? and the adepti are divine beings of liyue and another thing- you guys might have noticed the change of names in some scenes- i dont know but i think somehow different names represents different side of a person like- we have childe the cheerful harbinger then tartaglia the power hungry harbinger- there’s Alatus who’s calculating and cold, there’s the Conqueror of Demons who’s ruthless and unforgiving, then Xiao who is calm and humane- lastlyyyyy i might post this in ao3 ksks

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #xiao #genshin xiao #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao genshin #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #zhongli #childe #ganyu #ningguang

573 notes · View notes

bonvoyagenoona · 3 years

Note

Hi.

Remember that one time _______ spilled _______ on you and you ________?

Remind me how that went again? It never gets old....

I love a good unexpected sexy time story.

Ahhh, Roomie! I love that story! I think our codename for it was...

Stained

Pairings: Hobi x Reader

Rating: 18+ / Mature / Explicit

Word Count: 1.7k

Synopsis: Hobi spills a glass of wine on you. No big deal, though...

C/W, Themes, & More Info: Drinking, grinding, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, fingering, friends to lovers, fluff, a tinge of angst because things have been building up, rough sex, dirty talk, a suggestive recording?, and I think that’s it? 😜

Help me jog my memory, Roomie. I think it went something like...?

The funniest part about Hobi spilling that glass of red wine on your favorite ivory white camisole was the way he blinked in fear at you, eyes so big that his lids stretched thin as they came together, lashes so tender that you almost heard the soft plink! plink! as he blinked, lips drawn forward and stitched together in the a tiny, trembling circle.

Hobi is usually so careful. If he’s not the jack (well, king) of all trades, or the mysterious alien, or the flirt, or the secret softy, or the "actual" youngest, or the leader... then Hobi is the neat one, the always-on-point one, the person who always has shit together, especially when it matters. This is what he prides himself on: his position as the unofficial captain who does the heavy lifting when it comes to emotional, unseen labor. It's why he shines so brightly.

But now, the reason he's shining so brightly is the mix of his pomegranate red, bracheto drunk face, and the thin coat of sweat quickly streaming out of every one of his pores.

"I am so, so, sorry!" he eeks out, jumping to his feet.

You giggle. Maybe you're a little wine drunk, too. Not so much that your judgment is clouded. But not so little that you still care what happens to this top. You saved it in your favorites. You can always get another.

You tell him so when you set your wine glass down on the coffee table, wriggle out of the top, and toss it behind you.

He eyes it when it hits the floor with a wet slap!.

"But... we can still save it," he tries, looking back at you in just your bra. "I-I mean, I have a Tide pen?..."

You smirk as you wriggle out of your shorts, staying on your feet, and cocking your head to the side. First of all, there's no way a Tide pen is going to erase the entire bodice of your top. But also, "You sure that's what you wanna be talking about right now?" you ask.

How many weekends have you spent like this at Hobi's apartment, just hanging out, always flirting with the edge but never diving deeper. Fingertips brushing. Breaths hovering. Lips and limbs never quite meeting.

Hobi gulps, looking so adorable in his terror.

"You're so nervous!" you coo, stepping between his insoles, daring him to make a move. But then a frown appears. "Sorry -- unless I'm making you uncom---"

Finally. Lips finally meet.

A rush of heat, the after-effects of Hobi's flush, waves and waves pulsing toward you, strengthening as your kiss deepens. You think you hear a hum on each pulse, and you realize it's actually coming from Hobi, evidence of the dam starting to break, and his need for you starting to overflow.

"Ugh, wanted this," he confesses, fingers threading through your hair. "Want you."

"Why didn't you make a move?" you plead, helping him scramble out of his hoodie and groaning at his naked torso.

"Wasn't sure you wanted it, too," he whispers.

He drops his sweatpants and steps out of them and his boxers, stroking his hard cock and chewing on his lips as you turn around and present that treasure of a rolling, golden landscape that you call your ass as you kneel on the couch cushions.

"Show me how bad you want it, and I'll do the same," you moan, wiggling your hips slowly.

Hobi hums again, spitting in his right hand while yanking your panties to the side with his left. He grabs a mix of the fabric and your flesh, nearly ripping you open, and sighing into a fit of eager chuckles when he sees how sopping wet you already are for him.

"Wasn't kidding, Hobi," you moan, leaning down, hands dragging down the couch back. "Want it. Want it bad."

He rubs your aching, twitching, swollen, and gushing pussy, making you howl and fist the corners of the middle couch cushion. He loves watching you writhe. Loves watching how your body can barely take him. How your toes curl to the point of near spasm.

"Fuck, I think I barely need to prep you," Hobi observes, easily sliding a third finger inside, almost handshaking your slit.

The way you were lying lengthwise together on the couch, bodies hidden under the blanket, but your knowing ass pushing back against his waking cock, his hand carefully slipping down and into your waistband, both of you slowly, carefully, timidly grinding as your wine sloshed back and forth in their glasses. When the liquid crested over the brim, it landed on your stomach because you had already turned over to face him. When you jumped up at the sudden wetness, you caught the TV mocking you. Are you still watching?

Now, you're watching, craning your neck back as Hobi obliges to your desperate, "Then rail me already."

Hobi grunts, sounding almost worried, knowing that whatever happens next is going to be a cataclysmic shift in everything you know about each other.

Almost as cataclysmic as the earthquake Hobi creates, body rolling against yours, and making you shudder as you struggle to take him in. So thick. So long. So ironic, how much you're shaking, while Hobi stays so smooth, cock somehow politely forcing itself into you, so welcome, but so much.

"God.

"That good?" Hobi smirks. "You see him?"

When your eyes slam shut as he fills you, you think you do, and it looks an awful lot like Hobi's rolling profile.

"Faster," you pant. "Even harder."

"No foreplay?" Hobi asks, almost disappointed.

"You're already in me," you whine, pressing back against him to try and squeeze something from him when he won't move. "And what do you think the past few wine weekends have been??"

"Tell me what they've been," Hobi growls, his voice suddenly so close, and so raspy.

A dirty talker. Of course that's Hobi's thing. With the gravel in Hobi's raps. He may be neat, but he's just as home in the silt.

"They've been me going home fucking thirsty," you sigh, as Hobi starts to pick up his pace. You grit your teeth and picture yourself, narrating every move that you've made in the minutes and hours following the closing of Hobi's front door. "Me touching myself in my damn car. In my damn elevator. Me leaving stains on the upholstery, or dripping a trail to my door. Me not being able to wait to come until I get to my damn room. Sinking to my knees and fucking my hand in the foyer of my stupid, empty apartment."

Whimpering, Hobi starts to piston stroke into you, imagining your delicate fingers slipping into you the way his cock is, your walls bouncing your moans around like his walls are now, bouncing like your tits are now, too, as he frees them from your bra. You cry out when you feel pressure around them, and then a buzzing burn as he pinches and tweaks your nipples.

"Fuuuuh-huh-huh-huck," you whine, tears coming to your eyes as quickly as your orgasm is being summoned. "God, Hobi, it feels so fucking good."

"I know."

The radiant confidence sends you reeling. Was sleepy drunk Hobi walking you to the elevator every Saturday just a fucking act?

"Come for me now," Hobi instructs. "Let me fucking see you. Tired of trying to picture it. Wanna see you lose control."

Your toes fan out, fingers sprawl across the cushions. You're opening yourself up, opening your chakras, opening your third eye to let everything come. And it does, washing over you, sending you into another dimension completely, one where Hobi isn't just your cuddly best friend, happy to contain you and cheer you up by watching your favorite terrible rom-coms, or share some cool fashion documentary he's stumbled upon. One where Hobi is actually unleashing something that's been trapped within you. Some force. Some other you. A you that demands what you want. And, in turn, you've unleashed something in him. A him that can finally give it to you.

You rock the couch on its legs, springs creaking as you roll with him, and then seize, and then spasm, shivering unexpectedly and breaking into a cold sweat. The wall becomes a blurry, fuzzy gray. You reach out to stroke it, expecting fur or feathers and getting dried paint. Your palm print smears across. Hobi's hand lands on top of yours, and he slips his fingers into the webbing between yours, helping you latch onto something more solid than the tiny, uneven bumps of drywall.

Hobi walks you to the elevator, your purse over his shoulder, his hoodie back on his body, and a clean one of his hoodies on yours.

"I guess this means our friendship is ruined," Hobi remarks. "Kind of a big stain we just made there."

"And on my blouse, and on your sofa, and me in my car," you whisper, as he laughs and pulls you in for a kiss.

He looks at you thoughtfully. How could he have let you go like this every Saturday? "You sure you don't wanna stay?" he asks hopefully.

"I swear to fucking god that I would," you tell him, a heavy urgency in your voice, "but I did promise my parents dinner." And then you smile reassuringly. "I swear I'll make it up to you. Send you some texts to keep you company. And I'll be done before you know it. Come back."

"Mmmm, cum on your back?" Hobi snarls, leaning into you as you press the elevator button. "Can't wait for that."

You giggle and slip into the elevator when the door opens, after giving Hobi one more kiss.

"Promise me," Hobi whines, slipping your purse off his shoulder and onto yours, before lunging and bracing the outline of the elevator door, head hanging, eyes looking at you through his long, long lashes.

"Promise," you whisper, as the door closes.

Hobi chases your gaze as the gap narrows. "I'll be waiting," he whispers back, before the metal clang.

He won't have to wait long. Your eyes are already scanning for cameras. And when you see none, you whip out your phone and start to record with one hand, and slide your other hand into your shorts. Video 1 of how many it'll take to keep him fed until you're in this elevator again.

Hobi knows better than anyone that if there's anything to know about you, you're always one to keep your word.

More Important Questions

#bts drabbles #bts fanfiction #bts smut #hobi smut #hobi x reader #hobi x you #hobi x y/n #mochilatae #important questions #NOT AT ROOMIE CHANGING THINGS UP OOOOOF!#your BRAIN girl!!!!!

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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 3 years

Text

SFW Alphabet | Felix Lee

{Stray Kids Masterlist}

Member: Felix Lee

Genre: fluff

Authors Note: I am trying to do this series with both AiB and Stray Kids, so here’s my first one! Enjoy!

A - Affection

(How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Considering how affectionate and cuddly he is with his members, with his S/O he’d be ten times more intense

His love language is physical touch, so he would always need to be touching his S/O is some way or another

Even a simple gesture like holding hands under the restaurant table is enough to make him feel reassured

He wouldn’t be able to sleep without wrapping all his limbs around his S/O, snuggling as close and possible and almost suffocating in their scent

While having a lazy day at home, Felix would not leave his S/O’s side

He would follow them to every room, like a little kitten

Felix would love getting his head pat. His S/O’s fingers running through his hair would be heaven for him

As Felix has mentioned to the other members, he heart would explode if his S/O came up behind him while he’s in the kitchen (while he’s washing dishes or something) and gave him a back cuddle

B - Best Friend

(What would they be like as a best friend?)

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. Felix would honestly make the most amazing best friend in the world.

He would be the type of best friend that would show up at their house at 2am just to play Minecraft in their room

He would have the most crackhead energy around them 24/7

Always sticking to their side through thick and thin

He would always know how to cheer his best friend up, quoting vines and doing tiktok dances just to hear them laugh

He would also be so loving, big hugs and snuggles for everyone, especially his best friend

C - Cuddles

(Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I mentioned cuddling a bit in A, but here’s some more

Felix would absolutely adore cuddles

One of his favourite ways to cuddle is playing video-games while his S/O sat on his lap with their face tucked into his neck. He would love feeling their breaths on his skin and them leaving small kisses there every few minutes

During cuddling, Felix would love to tuck his hands underneath his S/O’s shirt to feel their warm skin, and then giggle when they yell at him for having cold hands

Felix would rub his head on their belly as their lying down, kissing the soft skin there and blowing raspberries against it to make them laugh

He would wrap his arms around their shoulders from behind them as their doing work and kiss their cheeks

After a long day apart, Felix would drag his S/O to bed and cuddle them like a teddy bear, making up for the lost time when they weren’t together, not letting them go until he’s satisfied with their love (never)

Felix would be so suffocating and cuddly, his S/O would wonder if he has separation issues at least 3 times a day

D - Domestic

(Do they want to settle down? How are they around the house?)

Obviously Felix has a passion for cooking, so he would be more than happy to practice his skill whenever he could in the kitchen

Every time he made a good dish, his S/O would always be the taste-tester and give him their opinion

He would love to cook for his partner, and he would get so excited when they like his food

Around the house in general, I feel like he would be rather loud.

With his energy and vibe, he would make everyday be a party

Whilst doing boring chores with his S/O, he would blast fun music and dance while doing the laundry or vacuuming

It would take hours for them to finish cleaning anything, because they would have too much fun while doing so

Their living space would be so comfy, pillows and giant stuffed animals everywhere

E - Ending

(If they had to break up with their S/O, how would they do it?)

I feel like Felix would do absolutely everything in his power to prevent a breakup

But if he was forced to make the decision, he would be torn

Felix seems like someone that would be very emotionally connected to his S/O, so a breakup would crush him

He would probably tell his partner straight up that he wanted to break up

He would sit them down and talk through it logically, trying to say things in the nicest way possible

If he’s the one that broke it off, he would probably try his best to stay positive and on his feet

But if his S/O broke it off, he wouldn’t even try to hide his hurt

He would cry when they tell him, asking what he did wrong and why they don’t love him anymore

It would take quite a while for him to get over them, because he seems like such an emotional person

F - Fiancé(e)

(How would they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I don’t think Felix would be in a rush to marry his S/O

He’d see it as such a small thing in their relationship, not really caring whether they were married or not

He wouldn’t care about labelling their relationship too much. He’d probably just be happy in any dynamic

Of course, he would be committed to their relationship so strongly and would defiantly hope to marry them, but he wouldn’t think that it was necessary to rush things

To Felix, he wouldn’t rely on marriage to strengthen his relationship, as he probably believes he can be perfectly happy and committed without being married

G - Gentle

(How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, I feel like Felix would be incredibly gentle with his S/O

He would always treat them like they’re so fragile, even after they reassure him over and over that they won’t break

Even just placing his hand on their back would be gentle, and he would hold their hands lightly because he’s worried about hurting them

Emotionally, Felix would be so in touch with how his S/O is feeling

Because he values trust and emotional connection in a relationship, he would be delicate with his partners emotions and always put how they are feeling first

He would constantly check on how his S/O is feeling, and probably loves having conversations about deep emotions, being so glad that his partner feels comfortable to open up to him

H - Hugs

(Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

I don’t know if you guys have noticed, but Felix ADORES hugs

He can never get enough of them, wanting to constantly be snuggled up in someone's arms like a little koala

It wouldn’t be any different with his S/O

Being with Felix would means hugs galore, and his partner doesn’t get a choice in it

All throughout the day, Felix would surprise his S/O with sudden cuddles and back hugs

Felix though loves hugs where he can run up to them and spin them in his arms

Or hugs where they wrap their legs around his waist, making him stumble and giggle

Every hug, Felix would nuzzle his face into his S/O’s neck and rub his face against their cheeks

I - I Love You

(How fast do they say the L-word?)

It honestly wouldn’t take him long, maybe only a few weeks into dating

It would probably slip out during a phone call as he’s hanging up, not realizing what he said until he gets a text from his partner immediately saying “Love you too <3″

Or he would say it after a date when he’s dropping them off, giving them a big kiss then running off cheekily before they would respond

If his S/O said it to him first, he wouldn’t know how to react

He would become all blushy and shy, probably try to hide his red face behind his hands

He would say it back of course, but not before he has a moment to control his nervous laughing

J - Jealousy

(How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Definitely a jealous boyfriend, no doubt about it

He wouldn’t be really jealous to the point of annoyance, but he surely wouldn’t appreciate it if someone was flirting or touching his S/O in any way

If they spent the day whole day with someone while he was sitting at home on a day off, he would probably become a bit jealous

He would send them texts throughout the day, asking what they were doing and stuff like that

If his S/O talked to someone for ages while Felix was right next to them, he would become impatient after a while and want their attention back on him

In this situation he would probably squeeze their thigh gently or thread his fingers with theirs to reassure himself

He would become jealous out of insecurity, because sometimes he would probably feel down about himself and wonder why someone as perfect as his S/O was with him

But after a reassuring cuddling session and sweet words from his S/O, he would be completely back to his normal, energy-filled self

K - Kisses

(What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss their partner? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Felix lives for kisses, no matter what kind

His absolute favourite kisses would be gentle ones, filled with love and intimacy

He would kiss his S/O at every chance he gets

Even when their just walking past them in the house, he would lean over and press his lips to their cheek, taking them by surprise

Or when they’re working on their computer at their desk, he would come up behind them and tilt their head back so he can give them a big smooch

His favourite place to kiss his S/O I feel like would be their belly

He could lay his head on their stomach and kiss the soft skin there for hours if it was just to hear them laugh about how it tickles

On him, he would love to be kissed on his forehead

Who doesn’t love a cute forehead kiss

He would love them because it’s such a tender and loving action

It would make him feel cared for and fussed over, which is his absolute favourite

If they kissed all his freckles individually and he would marry his S/O right there

L - Little Ones

(How are they round children?)

I get the feeling Felix actually loves kids

He gives me ‘big cousin that plays hide and seek with little cousins’ vibes

He could honestly play with kids for hours, never failing to make them laugh

He would probably love to babysit with his S/O, because secretly he imagines that they are looking after their own child together

If his S/O has nieces, nephews or baby cousins, he would buy the kids gifts on Christmas and their birthdays just so they like him more

If a kid ever uses puppy-dog eyes on him, he wouldn’t be able to refuse them anything

This means his future kids will be spoiled by their dad massively

M - Morning

(How are mornings spent with them?)

Felix would probably wake up quite early, getting out of bed to cook breakfast for himself and his S/O

If they aren’t awake by the time breakfast is on the table, he would sprint into their shared room and catapult onto the bed to wake them up

If his S/O isn’t a morning person, they’re in for a wild ride

He would rip the duvet off them and kiss them all over their face until they opened their eyes

If the sweet approach doesn’t work, then he would probably begin a pillow fight war

In the end, it always ends with both of them fallen off the bed laughing their heads off with pillows and duvets scattered everywhere

At breakfast, Felix and his S/O would talk about their plans for the day and clean up the kitchen together

N - Nights

(How are nights spent with them?)

Felix and his S/O would have the same bed-time routine

They would brush their teeth in the bathroom, always making each other laugh by making faces in the mirror and cracking terrible dad jokes

They’d probably go to sleep at a late hour, staying up and watching Netflix shows on one of their laptops

Felix would love to get his hair played with as they watched Netflix, becoming sleepier from the soothing feeling of his S/O’s fingers scratching his head

Felix would fall asleep first most of the time I think, and his S/O would either tuck his head into their chest or press themselves against his chest before drifting off to sleep while listening to Felix’s cute breaths

O - Open

(When would they start revealing things about themselves?)

As I mentioned before, I think Felix values honesty and emotional connection in a relationship

This means that he would be very open from the beginning with his S/O

He wouldn’t want to hide any part of himself away from them, wanting them to know and understand him as well as they can

He would love having late nights conversations with his partner, talking about his dreams and passions for future years

He would want to be as open and honest in a relationship and he probably would want his partner to feel the same way

Hiding some aspect of himself would feel like he was lying to his S/O

He wants them to love him for who he truly is, so he’s not afraid to spill secrets and personal things about himself to his S/O

P - Patience

(How easily angered are they?)

Felix seems like the most laid back person ever

He would hardly ever become mad

But when he does, he would become MAD mad

He would go completely silent, giving glares and snarky remarks to whoever angered him

The only things that his S/O would do that would truly set him off is ignoring his calls and texts when he doesn’t know where they are and when his S/O is talking themselves down in front of him

He seems like an anxious personality at some points, so if you don’t answer his texts or calls, he would immediately assume the worse

He also would hate his S/O calling themselves awful things while he’s right there, because in a way it’s insulting to him

If Felix became mad at his S/O, it honestly wouldn’t last too long

He wouldn’t hold grudges, but just sort of let his steam cool off and then be fine

Q - Quizzes

(How much would they remember about their partner?)

Every. Little. Detail

His S/O would not be able to escape him

He would remember something they said weeks ago about a shirt they saw at the mall

“I bought you this shirt because you said you liked the colour.” “What? I looked at it for like 3 seconds...”

Sometimes he would remember things about his partner that they wouldn’t even be able to remember themselves

Even such minor things like how they tie their shoelaces

It honestly would be so cute, and he would always bring things up weeks later after his S/O mentioned it

“Why did you get us tickets to the zoo?” “...because you said you find meerkats cute a few weeks ago.”

R - Remember

(What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

Every moment with his S/O would mean the world to Felix

But his favourite moments would be the simple ones

Like when their having movie date at home, snuggling on the couch with a rom com playing on the TV

He would value those moments because he loves the domestic and calming atmosphere, just enjoying being in his S/O presence

Let’s be honest, him and his S/O would probably not be focused on the movie at all

He would also value memories of going on adventures together

Like going to aquarium and seeing his partner become all excited and point at all the colourful fish

He could honestly watch them react to the sea creatures for hours, he would be so soft for his S/O smile and excitement

S - Security

(How protective are they? Would they like to be protected?)

Honestly probably quite protective

He would be so cautious for them all the time

Even just walking down the street he wouldn’t let go of their hand

It also goes back to him texting them throughout the day if they go out

He feels so much better when he’s reassured that they’re safe

He like to feel like their protector, it probably makes him feel stronger and boosts his confidence

When it comes to him being protected, he would love it

If his S/O is bigger than him, he would always push himself into their chest when he’s feeling vulnerable

Just being in his S/O arms would be enough for him, because their scent would automatically comfort him

T - Try

(How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would treat his S/O like royalty, always making sure he puts in his best effort towards anniversaries and dates

I already mentioned it, but he would love cooking for his S/O

It would probably be his other love language; cooking for his partner

When it’s their anniversary, he would always make sure that he has a romantic restaurant dinner reserved for them

He would pamper them all day, not leaving their side and doing the smallest tasks for them

For gifts, he would prefer making his S/O gifts rather than buying them

He would make cute photo collages of them both to give to them

Or he would make necklaces and bracelets for them from scratch

U - Ugly

(What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He would sometimes accidentally laugh in serious situations when his S/O needs him to be understanding

It wouldn’t be really bad, but it may start an argument if his S/O doesn’t tell him to be serious

He also would sometimes get a bit too clingy, mainly due to insecurity

If his S/O wants some time alone, Felix might take it personally, thinking that they’re sick of him

And lastly, would probably play video-games until really late on some nights

Most of the time his partner wouldn’t care and would probably join him on most occasions

But sometimes when they just want to go to bed and cuddle their boyfriend, they might find it a bit annoying

V - Vanity

(How concerned are they with their looks?)

Always wants to look his best for his S/O

No matter how much they reassure him about how they don’t care what he looks like, he would still worry about it

Would be kind of embarrassed if he thought he wasn’t looking attractive

Would hide his face in his S/O’s chest if he wasn’t feeling the most confident

During heated moments he would tuck his head into their neck, probably self-conscious about his facial expressions

His S/O would have to reassure him a lot, but Felix wouldn’t complain, because he lives off praise and compliments

W - Whole

(Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, home is where ever his S/O is

Because he is someone who becomes very emotionally connected quickly, his S/O would be such a huge part of his life that he wouldn’t be able to live without

Even just one night of not having them in his arms feels foreign and strange to him

He would love his S/O with his whole heart, not holding back any aspect of his affection for them

His S/O would be so important to him, and he would want them to feel the exact same way back

X - Xtra

(A random headcanon for them.)

He would absolutely love torturing his partner with harmless pranks

Like hiding behind doors to scare them and putting sticky notes all over their shared room (even though he’s also pranking himself??)

He’s such a trickster and any moment being with him is chaotic

After he’s learnt a new tiktok dance, he would run excitedly to his partner and show them, which always ends in tears of laughter

Y - Yuck

(What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Would hate to have a partner who is incredibly quiet around both him and other people

He would want someone who matches his energy and has the same humour as him

He also wouldn’t like it if his S/O was very distant, or if they didn’t value spending quality time with him

He would feel neglected or unloved if he dated someone like that

On a lighter note, he would absolutely HATE bugs I feel

His S/O would always have to be the one to take bugs outside if they found one in the house

If both of them have a fear of bugs, then it would take hours to get the smallest of beetles out of their room

Every time it began to fly, they would both scream and shove each other to get away from it

Would honestly be hilarious to watch though

Z - Zzz

(What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Either spreads out like a starfish and hogs the bed, or snuggles into the tightest ball possible

There’s no in-between

He wouldn’t snore at all I feel, and would be a light sleeper

Even the smallest of sounds outside makes him wake up all alert

Rarely has nightmares, but when he does he wakes up and tucks himself closer to his S/O while kissing their face to reassure him it was just a dream

He would love to have so many pillows and stuffies on the bed, wanting to be as comfortable as possible

Probably goes to sleep wrapped up like a burrito, but then wakes up with all the covers off him

SFW Alphabet template from @the-coldest-goodbye

296 notes · View notes

jonahlovescoffee · 3 years

Note

Hi! I hope you are well : ) So, I was trying to think of an idea and then I saw the title on your blog - loving can hurt sometimes- and that kind of gave me an idea...Maybe one of the wdw boys is in a relationship with the reader, y/n, and they hit a rough patch and things are kind of hanging on a thread. Neither of them know whether it's going to work out. Hope this inspires you! I'll send some more if I can think of something.

Grey | J.M.

a/n: @randomlimelightxxx thanks so much for sending in an ask <33333 and I’m sorry for replying to it this late :( i love love love your idea!!! but i hope u don’t mind if i make it a little sadder (◐‿◑) whoops.

(ps: this turned out worse than i hoped but i do hope you like it)

summary: a happy ending isn’t always guaranteed, even when you love someone with every fibre of your being, because life isn’t a fairytale.

warnings: angst

word count: 2517

“i can’t believe i let you go.”

Jonah doesn’t know for sure how long he has been staring at the framed photograph that has been hanging on the living room wall for as long as he can remember. It was taken during one of the few 4th of July celebrations that you both had celebrated together. In the picture, your smile was brighter than ever, even brighter than the fireworks that were bursting through the dark night behind you, fiery blooms amongst the stars. He had an arm around your shoulders, his green orbs looking at you lovingly as you took the selfie.

Both of you seemed so happy back then—something you both hadn’t felt in a long time, even before your dramatic fallout. You were going strong, weren’t you? Both of you used to be the poster children of the perfect couple — you had each other backs and lifted each other up when the going got tough, which led you to believe that nothing could ever come between the two of you.

But life did. When his career started to blow up, your relationship with him did too.

Every time he closes his eyes; the vivid memory of the horrible night months ago starts to play before him like a movie.

“Jonah Marais Roth Frantzich, have you been drinking again?” You tore your eyes away from the TV and directed it towards him instead when you heard the sound of the door opening then closing, followed by the rattling of keys as he threw it into the small box beside the door. The stench of alcohol filled your apartment almost immediately, indicating that he had a heavy intake of whatever alcoholic drink he consumed at the party.

He didn’t answer, or even bat an eye at you as he made his way into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Your lips pressed into a thin line as your blood boiled upon being ignored by him. You glanced at the clock. It was nearly 3am. This was the latest he had ever been home after attending a party, which was something he had been doing almost every day lately.

You hated his new habit of getting absolutely wrecked after every party, and he knew that too. He also knew that you hated him getting too friendly with the alluring LA models that were up to no good, as much as you hated him spending most of his time on his job, resulting with him neglecting you far too often for your liking, until you guys were basically nothing more than strangers living under the same roof.

He knew many things, but he never cared, because those were the requirements of his job — to constantly socialize and make music — so he thought that you’ll understand but from the look of the annoyed scowl on your face, that didn’t seem to be the case tonight.

“Jonah, answer me,” you ordered sternly from where you sat on the couch in the living room.

He didn’t know whether if it’s the fault of the alcohol that was coursing through his veins or the fact that both of you hadn’t really talked in days (maybe months) had started to drive him over the edge, but he found your displeasure oddly infuriating, although he knew you were merely looking out for him.

You are his girlfriend, not his fucking mother.

“Yes, not that it’s any of your business,” he seethed and you seemed taken aback by his reply. At least that’ll shut you up for now.

He placed the cup into the sink with a greater force than he intended before leaving the kitchen to head towards the master bedroom, trying his best to ignore your accusing glare that was still boring into his back and hold back the rest of the harsh words that was threatening to spill out of his mouth.

He knew he was drunk and he didn’t want to say anything that he would regret later in the morning so staying silent was currently the best option. Everything would return to normal the next day once you forgot about this, like you always had for the past few weeks. The tension would be gone and you both would return to playing the role of a lovey-dovey couple that, unbeknownst to others, barely talked in what felt like forever.

But you had other plans. You weren’t letting this matter go this easily. This had been going on for too long. You had enough of his immature behaviour that was gradually driving a wedge between the two of you. You wanted -- no, needed -- this to stop right now, for his own good and yours.

You wanted the old Jonah back -- the Jonah who’d walk to the ends of the world for you, who’d join you in bed at night to ask about your day and who’d put you as his first priority. You walked briskly towards him and captured his wrist in your hand.

“I’m your girlfriend, Jonah, and I have the right to hold you accountable for your dumb actions,” you purposely emphasized on the three words that you knew would get on his nerves. You wanted him to talk, to explain why he was suddenly so obsessed with getting drunk. Was he stressed? Was something bothering him?

Once again, you received no answer from him.

“Drinking is bad for your health, Jonah,” you softened your tone, just by a little. “And you barely get enough sleep recently, it’s--”

“Just shut up for once, can you?” He jerked your hand away. “Always ‘Jonah don’t do this’, ‘Jonah don’t do that’ like I am some kind of dumb baby that needs help. Just so you know, I’m a grown man who is perfectly capable of making my own decisions, mind you.”

This was the first time Jonah had ever raised his voice at you. You tried not to let his words get to you, you tried to convince yourself that it was the alcohol talking for him but tears ended up welling up in your eyes anyways. You held them back as you continued to speak.

“I was just trying to advise—”

“I said shut the fuck up! Even if I do need help, I won’t be asking it from the likes of you!” Before you could react, the glass vase that was once placed beside the TV went flying against the wall behind you, shattering into a million pieces.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Jonah?” You cried out, your hands fisting the front material of his shirt. “What the heck was that for?”

“Get off me, you psycho!” he pried your hands off him and pushed you away forcefully, making you stumble backwards and fall to the ground due to your loss of footing.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably now. “You’ve changed. The old Jonah will never do this to me,” you stood up, wiping off your tears with the back of your hand.

“Maybe it’s because you don’t know me well enough.”

“You know what?” You were jabbing your finger on his chest. “If this is the real you, maybe I shouldn’t have dated you in the first place,” you shouted at him.

“Fine, don’t date me then! Maybe I finally can live a lot more freely without your constant nagging!”

Your breathing stopped for a moment and you swore his did too. Silence ensued, the only sound being the tv that you forgot to turn off before the fight.

Shit. He said too much.

When you finally came back to your senses, you pushed pass him to make your way into the bedroom, pulling out your luggage and set it open on the bed.

“You should’ve told me earlier that you didn’t want me in your life,” you said breathlessly as you proceeded to dump all your clothes into your luggage before slamming it shut, ignoring his pleas for you to stop.

“No, baby, I don’t mean what I said,” he grabbed your arm and you flinched at his touch. That was how he knew he messed up. Badly. “Let’s just forget—”

“I’m so done with always sweeping our problems under the carpet and pretend like they don’t exist, Jonah!” You yelled frustratedly. “Let me ask you, when was the last time we had a heart-to-heart talk, Jonah? When was the last time we had a peaceful meal together without arguing? When was the last time we actually spent quality time together?”

He couldn’t answer any of your questions.

“Can’t you see it? We haven’t been a couple for quite a while now,” you explained, pulling your closed luggage out of the room towards the front door, not forgetting to pick up your purse along the way. “What happened just now was just one more sign that we,” you gestured between the both of you, “are not meant for each other so maybe it’s for the best if we break up.”

“No, please, no,” he fell to his knees before you, his hands moving to grasp your arm. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. Please.”

“I’m not wasting any second more of my life with you,” you spat mercilessly in his face. “Now let go.”

“No, please, stay with me, baby,” he continued to beg, the grip on your hand unfaltering.

“I’m sorry,” you said and felt his grip loosen at the two simple words. He knew there was no point in holding on once you already made up your mind. “Goodbye, Jonah.”

You yanked your arm away and walked out the door, not looking back, leaving a distressed male behind, in tears.

Yes, Jonah remembers everything from that night, especially the slam of the door behind you as you walked out of his apartment and his life, forever.

And he is the one to blame.

Fast forward to the present, he misses you so much that he is starting to lose his mind.

He thinks about you so often that sometimes he forgets that you aren’t his anymore. He still finds himself reaching out to what used to be your side of the bed the first thing in the morning, only to find it cold and empty; he still looks forward to coming home from work every day to run into your arms that used to be his safe haven, only to be reminded by his quiet house that your laughter, your kisses, your touches are luxuries that he can no longer afford, no matter how wealthy he is.

You gave him a chance—scratch that, you have kind-heartedly given him countless chances in the past for him to make up for his mistakes, to prove to you that loving him was worth all the suffering, but all he did was disappoint you over and over again by choosing to walk away from you when his career was at stake.

It wasn’t until you were gone that he noticed all those valuable chances that have unknowingly passed him by.

He runs a hand through his hair and heaves a sigh, throwing his head back so that he is mindlessly staring at the ceiling.

He was cowardly fool, for putting his needs above the person who he swore to love till the end of time, for giving up when he should’ve fought a little harder to preserve what’s left of their love, for doing nothing as the distance between them grew by leaps and bounds until you eventually slipped out of his grasp into nothingness.

Most importantly, he was the world’s biggest idiot to ever think that he can live without you.

He knows that he should stop missing you; he knows that he should forget the past, or at least lock all the fond memories he had built with you into a box and shove it into the darkest, deepest corners of his mind, not to be opened ever again; he knows that he should move on, like you already did.

But “I know” and “I can” are two completely different things. Yes, he is terribly exhausted from holding onto the past, holding onto you, even as he feels the remaining shred of hope that you might one day return to him slowly diminish as days passed but at the same time, he is still too in love to let you go.

Therefore, for what seems like the thousandth time that month, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and dials your number that is still marked as favourites in his contact list. As expected, the call goes to voicemail right away, after your recorded voice says, “Sorry, I can’t come to the phone at the moment but feel free to leave a message instead!” in a cheerful tone, as if you are mocking him for not being able to talk with you like he used to anymore.

After the beep, Jonah hesitates a moment before opening his mouth to speak, but no words escape. He has no idea where to start. He knows a simple ‘sorry’ isn’t going to fix everything, for the pain you had endured because of him is definitely not worth to be forgiven with a simple two-syllable-word. He contemplates if he should end the call, like what he has done for the past thousand times.

No, he has spent too much time dwelling in his misery without making any effort to win you back It’s about time he at least tries to start a proper conversation with you because even if you don’t reciprocate his feelings, you still deserve an apology from him.

“Hi,” he breathed nervously. “How are you? I know I should not be trying to contact you after what I did to you that night but,”

A pause.

“It’s not the same here without you, y/n. I miss your cooking, your terrible singing voice, your hilarious pep talks – hell, I even miss your long boring lectures whenever I forgot to wash the dishes,” he smiles a little at the memory.

“And I’m sorry, I really am, for ruining everything. I know it’s not enough but it’s true. Not a day passes where I don’t regret what I did to you that night and all the mistakes that I’ve made before that.”

“Please baby, give me one more chance to make it right. Just one more, please. Come back, be here with me because,” another pause.

He searches his brain for the right words to say, rubbing his temples with his fingers as his mind whirs.

Because of you, his life used to be filled with endless love and laughter. Your love was like the warm daylight, illuminating his world in golden, chasing away all the darkness. You painted his life with the vibrant colors of the rainbow whereas now that you’re gone, everyday it rains, the previous sunshine you provided long gone. He should’ve never let you go. With a swipe of his tongue over his trembling dry lips, he finishes his sentence before he decides to chicken out.

“Because I still love you. Without you, now everything’s grey.”

#wdw #why dont we #corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #why don’t we #zach herron #wdw imagines #jonah marais imagines #jonah marais x reader #jonah marais angst

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activechataclysme · 3 years

Text

TITLE: tell me you love me, pls ( i beg u )

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Ship: The Love Square - Mainly Adrinette and Marichat Rating: T [ AO3 ]

Summary:

Adrien’s patience was hanging by a thread. Wearing thin, rapidly dissipating, dissolving, the way his father claimed teeth dissolved in aerated drinks, take your pick. In that moment, he felt like Tantalus, hungry, the fruit within his reach but just barely . So. Close.

He loved the girl, he really did, and though he did his absolute best to soften her nerves as he looked at her with what he hoped was a hopeful smile, he suspected that he wasn’t able to cut through her panic induced haze. He watched her stutter a little before she let her head fall on her desk with a wince-worthy thump, before she asked for his physics homework going off their (very, very well-rehearsed) script again . All he wanted to do was take her by the shoulders and shake her while screaming,

“ Tell me you love me, I beg you. I can’t stand waiting around this way!”

And then maybe kiss the hell out of her.

Hell, he wanted to kiss the hell out of her right now , but he couldn’t because there was The Bet ™ that he now felt, in hindsight, was stupid. Not that he would ever admit that to Plagg or to his Princess, of course.

Really, he wished she would hurry up with her confession before he combusted on the spot and did something uncharacteristically un- gentlemanly, like drag her off to the nearest empty closet and kiss her senseless. He was sure she wouldn’t mind, what with her accidentally telling Chat Noir her fantasy of being pinned against the wall while being made out with, but still . He couldn’t just do that .

Or could he?

Well, he could.

But he mustn’t.

Suppressing a frustrated groan, he looked over his shoulder at the love of his life as she opened her French Literature notebook with a miserable frown. He really was not looking forward to another torturous practice session that evening. He sighed softly to himself, determined to find out what went wrong this time.

-o-

“... And he was just…. SMILING at me,” groaned Marinette as she shoved her face into her pillow with a groan.

Chat looked at her blankly. “And that is a problem, because …?”

“He looked so cute ,” she wailed. “It’s not fair, my brain shortcircuits. Can you believe my stutter came back !? After almost three years of being friends with him!? I was mortified. ”

Chat couldn’t help the warmth that flooded his cheeks. “You couldn’t ask him out because he was too cute ?”

“Yeah, go ahead, laugh at me,” she pouted petulantly.

He smiled at her softly instead. “No, I think that’s quite… Sweet.”

Marinette scrunched her nose at him. “You weren’t there. It was my Top 10 Embarassing Marinette Moments.”

Chuckling, Chat pat her side to have her make room for him before sliding in next to her in the space she had created.

“So how was your day? How’d it go with your girl?”

My girl. Adrien liked the sound of that.

“I really, really wanted to ask her out today.”

“Did you?” Marinette asked, with a sly gleam to her eyes.

“ No ,” said Chat petulantly. “I’ll have you know that this gentlecat is very patient with the leading ladies of his life.”

“I bet Ladybug would beg to differ,” she replied mischievously.

“ Hey , I was a kitten then with a stupid crush!” Chat replied indignantly with a pout. “I did not know better.” Marinette chuckled quietly, patting his head.

“ Marinette, please ask your boy out so I can ask her out!” whined Chat.

“Careful, Chat,” sang Marinette. “Your impatience is showing.”

Chat groaned. This really was a bad idea. It was bad enough that what he considered a triumphant statement - I will ask out the girl I’m in love with, if you confess your feelings to the boy that you love. He was yet to figure out why that in itself was a good idea, but he just had to let himself be goaded into placing a bet on his patience.

“I don’t think you have the patience to wait that long, kitty ,” she had said back then.

“ Bet?” he had challenged, like an utter fool, because she was right , he did, in fact, not have the patience to wait that long. It’d been two weeks already.

“You don’t understand,” insisted Chat. “She- She sits behind me. I can feel her gaze on me, you know? It makes me want to turn around, lean over her table and kiss her.”

“You think, I have it easy?” Marinette demanded. “I can’t concentrate in class because he sits right in front of me. And my fingers itch to reach out to touch his hair and-”

“You should,” said Chat immediately, before coughing and continuing, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if the girl behind me did that to me, so.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re in love with her,” said Marinette rolling her eyes.

“Why do you still think Adrien Agreste is not in love with you!” exclaimed Chat.

Marinette worried her lower lip. “Chat, we’ve known each other for four years now, if he had any interest, he would’ve said something by now, right?”

Chat sighed. “Princess, we’ve been over this. You feel so much, but you haven’t said anything either, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s because he’s been clear on how I’m “just a very good friend”, you know!” Marinette said defensively, making Chat wince.

“Well, um, I friendzoned my classmate too, you know,” said Chat quietly. “I don’t know when I started to fall in love with her but I only realised two years ago and well, I tried everything in my power to get closer to her...”

He avoided tacking on During a road trip over the summer, when I had to watch another guy get really close to you, and I was scared out of my mind that you two would start dating because I know how in love with you Luka was, and I was torn between relief for me and concern for you when it didn’t work out and I still don't know what really happened because that would be one coincidence too many, he supposed.

“I… Did not know that,” said Marinette, clearing the bangs out of his eyes. “Why did you wait so long to ask her out, then?”

Chat gave her a wistful smile. “I was too afraid to ruin my friendship with her. She means the world to me, you know. She doesn't even realize how many times she's made my day brighter just by smiling at me."

He paused, before taking in a deep breath. "And well, about 6 months ago I found out that she used to be in love with me but had tried to give up on me..."

"Oh, Chat, I'm sorry," said Marinette, shifting closer to him. "Are you sure, though? Maybe it's not too late?"

"She, er, told me, actually," he said, not liking the dangerous turn the conversation had taken.

"She told you!? That's... Mean!" pouted Marinette.

"Oh, um, not to, um, civilian me," Chat admitted, a hand going up to rub the back of his neck to ease his nerves. "She told Chat Noir me."

Marinette blinked. "What? Really? Why did she-"

Chat chuckled and put a finger against her lips. "What're you, Alya Césaire? You know I can't answer all that without giving away my secret identity."

"Right," Marinette muttered, looking a little thoughtful.

"Anyways," said Chat loudly. "Apparently, she'd been in love with me since we met. Almost four years ago now. And-

“Wow, and you’d been friendzoning her all this while?” snorted Marinette. “I know exactly how she feels.”

“I’ll bet,” muttered Chat. “Your Adrien is as much an idiot as I am.”

“Hey, enough badmouthing Adrien and my kitty,” said Marinette sternly, wagging her finger in her face. “It’s not the end of the world you know."

Chat perked up. "Yes! I found out a month ago from um, mysterious sources that cannot be disclosed, that she did not succeed in getting over me!"

"And you say you have all the bad luck in the world!" Marinette beamed. Now’s your chance, ask her out.”

Chat scrunched his nose. “I can’t because of your stupid bet.”

Marinette cackled. “It was not my idea”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to take me up on it, you know I say stupid shit all the time!” whined Chat.

“Sorry, kitty, you’re just so fun to tease.”

“ Marinette-!”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “I’ll try to do this, but only for you.”

“ Only for me, sure, sure,” said Chat sarcastically. “Not because you want to be able to get your Adrien by the collar and-”

She smacked him with a pillow. “Will you help me or no !”

Oh boy.

“S-Sure.”

They both sat up in her bed and Marinette schooled her expression into a serious one. “Adrien…”

Chat gulped. “Y-Yeah, Marinette?”

“I know this may seem strange and sudden-”

“It is not strange,” interrupted Chat.

“ Fine, ” huffed Marinette. “Adrien, I know this may seem sudden but there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time.”

She inhaled deeply.

“I’ve been in love with you since you gave me that umbrella, and I know it’s been a long time since then, and I don’t expect you to return my feelings but I just needed you to know that I love you.”

Chat’s breath hitched. “I-I love you too, Mari.”

“You say that everytime .” Marinette laughed breathily. ”You need to also prepare me for the worst case scenario, you know.”

“No need,” said Chat, his voice cracking a little. “I’m pretty sure he won’t say no to you.”

“You have too much faith in me, Chat,” sighed Marinette, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“You deserve every ounce of it,” he shrugged, hesitating only briefly before putting his arm around her.

“I’ll try to make you proud,” she giggled weakly. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

-o-

She didn’t.

Points for trying though, because clearly she’d asked him to come over for a round of UMS III to finally (finally!) tell him, but she didn’t ask just him, much to his chagrin. At least, he was sure she meant to, but Nino had invited himself, determined to beat the both of them at the game, and he wondered if he imagined the sly grin on Alya’s face.

“Sorry, sunshine,” she mouthed with a shrug, as Nino gushed to Marinette about having pastries while playing the game.

Well, subtlety has never been his strong suit.

Adrien wouldn’t deny that Marinette wasn’t cute when she got all nervous and blushy, but there was so much at stake, damn it.

He could still hope though, he supposed. Maybe Nino and Alya would leave early?

They did, which pleased Adrien, as he pretended to ignore the knowing smirks on his friends’ faces as they left.

And at one point, his heart was beating out of his chest when Marinette beckoned him to sit next to him, took his hands apprehensively in hers, said his name and then, he felt her breathing start to quicken.

This is it.

“I know this may seem strange and sudden,” she started, swallowing thickly. “But I… I- I mean , just sudden, not- not strange. Nope,” she laughed nervously.

Oh, Marinette...

He squeezed her hands gently, wondering if she could hear his thumping heart as he tried not to laugh and take her into his arms.

“Anyways, so, um,” continued Marinette. “The sudden… Thing . Um. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time that um… Umbrella…”

“Umbrella?” prompted Adrien, trying to hold in his squeal of excitement. It is happening.

“Yeah, um, your umbrella,” continued Marinette, worrying her lower lip as she looked at him anxiously.

“My umbrella?” asked Adrien, pretending to be confused.

“The one you, um, lent to me?” said Marinette, “On your first day of school when I was… You know, being a bitch to you but then you were so nice to me even though I didn’t deserve it, and oh my gosh I was so mean , I’m so sorry about that Adrien! I cannot believe I-”

Digression! Digression! He thought, with alarm as Marinette deflated further and further as her ramblings turned a little incoherent.

“-It’s just that Chloe was such a Chloe back then, and I thought-”

“ Marinette !” he cut her off with a chuckle in his voice, tugging at her hands gently. She snapped out of him and blinked at him as if just realising he was here. “You were saying… Something about my umbrella?”

“What?” she asked, before shaking her head. “ Right. Umbrella. Um… I… I still have it.”

“Why?” he asked, quietly, scooting just a little closer to her.

Her eyes widened in panic, as her gaze darted around her room before finally landing on her closet. “Um… Um…. UM……. I- I just…. Wait a second!” And then she was ripping her hands out of his grip and running towards the closet where he knew she kept that umbrella.

This… This was not part of the plan.

Now he was in the dark , because he didn’t know what his Princess was thinking!

In seconds, she was back in front of him, the umbrella thrust out as she pushed it into his hands.

“I, um, just thought it was about time I returned it,” she said, almost hysterically.

Adrien stilled. “Is… Is that what you wanted to tell me? That you kept my umbrella all this time?”

Marinette nodded once, rocking on her feet as Adrien stood up as well. “Really, Marinette?” he asked, leaning in a little closer. She was right there. He could smell the vanilla and toffee off of her! He could, literally , kiss her right now.

To her credit, she didn’t flinch or move back. She did lie though - Of course, Adrien! Three years is a long time to be keeping an umbrella that is not mine, hahahahahah - not recognising Adrien’s attempt at giving her a chance to backtrack and go back to the script , for what it was.

He wondered if he should just go, To Hell With The Bet , and never admit that to Marinette; she’d made that bet with Chat and not Adrien after all. But then again, if all went to plan, Marinette would eventually know Adrien was Chat and then she would know that he lied, and she hated liars but then again, she was lying right now and not telling him she was in love with him and making this hard for everyone involved.

OH, GODS. The moral dilemma of it all.

He locked his fingers with her very loosely.

“Thanks, Mari,” he said, looking down at her as she still stared at him wide-eyed, with her bright baby blues. “For keeping it safe. And in such great condition.”

“N-No problem,” she said breathily, still when he tucked a strand of hair behind her hair. “A-Anything fo-for my good friend.”

Adrien startled at that, blinking at her as she let out a soft groan and deflated completely, and despite the amused hysteria seeping into him, he couldn’t help but hug her as her forehead came to a rest on his chest.

He thought he heard a muffled, “I’m such an idiot.”

He chuckled and hugged her tighter. “Oh, Marinette. You’re so cute.”

-o-

"He called me cute!" pouted Marinette. "How was I supposed to function after that!"

"What a funny coincidence, I called my girl cute today too!" Chat grinned. He didn't even try to tame the smug look in his eyes as Marinette spun in her chair, eyes on the ceiling, a dreamy smile on her face. "And the blush on her face was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen. And honestly, if you could just hurry up, I'd like the chance to kiss my girl, please."

Marinette snorted. "Concede the bet, and you can."

"Never," he retorted, regretting it immediately.

-o-

Over the next week, Adrien had the honour of witnessing firsthand the numerous ways Marinette could sabotage herself, while simultaneously giving his patience a really good exercise.

(

“Adrien, do- do you want to go on a walk to the park with me,” she’d asked, picnic basket in hand, as she shifted nervously on her feet. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

“Of course, Marinette!” he’d said, gathering all his composure, as he followed her to the park.

“Any special reason for this?” he had asked, hoping that would prompt her into saying something.

Well, it did. But not the thing he wanted to hear. “Um, b-because the weather is so great,” she’d laughed nervously, before fumbling with her phone. “I- I should ask Alya and Nino to join us as well!! It would be rude of me otherwise, they’re our friends, right? Right.”

And he’d flopped onto the grass on his back with a groan to glare at the gReAt WeAtHer’s blue skies as she diverted her attention to invite Alya and Nino.

)

And one of the most emotional metaphorical roller-coaster he’d be on...

(

“ God, Adrien I love you!!!” she squealed as he handed her a roll of that fabric she’d gushed to Chat about.

His heart had seized, and the words ‘I love you, too’ were on the tip of his tongue, when she flailed, very reminiscent of his college days, and hurriedly backtracked, “I- I mean, as a good friend. A great friend who got me something I’ve had my eye on for days!!! Yep.”

In his mind, he’d fallen to the floor dramatically on his knees while apologising for calling Marinette his ‘good friend’.

)

He supposed that was nothing compared to that one night as Chat.

She was frowning at him, kneeling right in front of him as she glared at the tip of his nose.

“I can do this.”

“ Yes , you can. You must, Princess.”

“I will do this, even if it’s so you can ask your girl out.”

“ Yes , you will.”

"We both deserve love, kitty."

"Yes, we do."

Then, surprising the everloving shit out of him, she took his face in both her hands, each of her hand splayed across his cheeks, thumb softly caressing his cheekbones as she held him. Her blue eyes were burning with seriousness, their faces inches apart. Adrien suspected that in that moment, he had stopped breathing.

“Adrien,” she said, and the thrill of when she said his name like that, made him shiver in her hands. “I love you, so, so much.”

And then, she proceeded to kiss the tip of his nose.

Chat Noir had never been so still in his life, except when posing for photos, he supposed. Though Vincent would have his head for the “stiffness”. Adrien could feel the heat on his cheeks, no doubt being felt by Marinette, who was now looking at him anxiously and god , she really needed to stop biting her lower lip like that.

He tried to say something, he really did. “Guh.”

Marinette withdrew with a groan, her forehead dropping on Chat’s shoulder. “That was too much wasn’t it?”

Just right , if Adrien was being honest. “Guh.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Marinette not paying his stupor much mind, sitting up straight again, waving her hand as if dispelling smoke. “I need a new strategy.”

)

It would’ve been so cute if it wasn’t so frustrating.

He also lost count of how many times he had contemplated just taking her face in his hands and seriously telling her how much he loved her before asking her out on a date himself, because his Princess was apparently courageous about everything except for confessing her feelings.

And hopefully kiss her some.

Sigh.

The kissing. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her.

She didn’t make it easy for him, or for herself it would seem.

It was endearing, all the same.

The resolution of his conundrum took about two more weeks of torturous nights of practicing and days of wanting to combust, but they both got there in the end. It was an uphill task, and involved one (1) iconic black umbrella, some roses and a box of macarons, but they did it.

Adrien decided that those weeks of thin patience, and wanting to combust on the spot were all worth it in the end.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml fic #mlb fic #love square #marichat #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #fluff #humour #just shippy ships #active chataclysme fic #REBLOG PLS #ac: fic

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estrxlar · 3 years

Text

The Ghost Of You

01 - You’re Familiar

This chapters songs:

Daughter Of A Cop; TV Girl

I Hope To Be Around; Men I Trust

Weird Fishes/Arpeggi; Radiohead

—

— Y. L. Perspective

My breath got louder and louder each second I ran. With my bento box hitting my hips, bag tossing around, and my skirt flying up, there was no way things could get any worse.

But luckily just around the corner, I spotted students climbing onto it, which made my feet run even faster.

Near late on my first day? Damn, Y/n, way to start your year.

Just then, I heard the sharp hiss of the engine, sending me faster towards the vehicle than I had been pacing myself before. But still, the driver was ignorant, obviously not caring how much I needed this. It wasn't like my parents would take me anyways.

"WAIT..! PLEASE WAIT!" I started on the side of the bus, running side to side with the wheels. After a few seconds of loud disruption, it finally stopped. The break was hard, and students inside were heard making remarks of protest.

Sure, I felt bad for the people who had to get a brake check, but I on the other hand was completely out of breath and near dead. Couldn't they spare me?

"I'm, I'm so.. I'm so sorry I.." My breath is short, and loud while I breathe in and out, trying my best to try and explain my tardiness to the driver. He simply sighs, gesturing for me to seat myself already.

While I stumbled down the aisle, I received a few weird glances from fellow students. Some familiar and some new. I couldn't tell if it was because of my reputation, or because I looked like a hot mess. Either way, it was too early in the morning for one to give a damn. And so, I seat myself next to another student, finally resting from the marathon I had just run.

I sighed, rolling my head back, and placed my fingers on my temples. 'I probably look like a mess right now.' I thought, letting out a huge sigh. Once I sat my fingers back down onto my lap, I observed more of the people I was surrounded by.

Some third years I was familiar with, a few that wouldn't dare speak to me, and some that were strangers. Other second and first years I didn't know at all; throughout high school, I thought it'd be best to stay hidden and introverted, especially if I were to become popular in the music industry. Lots of young stars still went to school, and usually got dirt easily thrown onto their title and that's exactly what I would avoid this year.

Bringing me back to reality, I capture a peek coming from the boy I was seated next to. He had fluffy gray hair and seemed just as tired as me. But the bus was so dark, I couldn't completely make out his features.

"Something wrong?" I said to him.

He jumped a little, adjusting his eyes back down to his phone. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to stare. I just- I think I know you from somewhere."

"Lots of people know me, buddy—" I lifted my head, facing him. 'Hey, this guy does pretty familiar. But there's no way I'd forget a face like his. Then again, I have the memory of an 80-year-old woman.' I think to myself, examining his features in an awkward mood.

"Wow, it is you. (Y/n), it's been quite a while!" He smiled widely, reaching a hand out to me. I only froze, too confused to comprehend the situation. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you're doing well!"

"I-Im sorry?" I question, wondering why a stranger would confront me this way. But something was off— I knew him, I just couldn't remember where from. Maybe from previous classes, or from a concert?

He turns slightly, growing a smile on his pale face. "I was trying to figure out if it was you or not, but it is! It's great to see you're better. How are you?"

"Who are you?" I ask back, a bit frightened.

"Uhm, well, I sat next to you in math class during my first year. Remember? I was a little ditzy, kind of annoying, I never shut up about volleyball..?" He asks, hoping to get a hint of nostalgia. "Come on, you've gotta recognize me, right?"

"Wait, Sugawara!" My finger jumps out, pointing to his sitting figure. "I'm sorry I couldn't recognize you! It sure has been quite a while. But I definitely remember you, now! You were one of the people who talked to me during my first year.. thanks for that. Anyways, how've you been?"

"I think that's my line, L/n." Suga pats my shoulder, then places his hand onto his lap. "You've changed so much! I've gotta know how you're doing!"

"I-I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing in your perspective, but thanks anyway. I've been doing just fine." I explain before a yawn escapes my mouth. Sure, this conversation was energetic, but I certainly wasn't.

"Again, so very sorry for being so forgetful. I don't remember much from first year, especially not anything in math, but I sure do recognize you now." I say, hoping my rudeness from before wouldn't have any effect on how he viewed me. Not that I cared, of course.

Luckily, Sugawara was forgiving that day. With a wide grin, he replies, "No need to apologize. People change drastically during high school; we're no exceptions. Although, I would've enjoyed being mutuals with you throughout most of it! I wonder why I haven't seen you around until today... I believe the last time we had talked was around the last day of first year."

"Yeah, we didn't have any classes together. If we had, I'm sure we would have stirred up a discussion. You seem very kind. " I gently smile, rubbing the nape of my neck. I tend to forget any bad memories, and the beginning of high school sure was a fat one.

"What a shame, you too seem wonderful.." He comments, gazing towards me for a split second, before reverting his focus. "A-anyways, it's a bit of a surprise I saw you here. Have you always ridden the bus? I usually take it in the mornings as well."

"I've actually just moved into this neighborhood. My parents work more hours than ever, so they decided it's best if I'm closer to school so that I can get to school and back quickly." I explain, tapping the sage green bento in my lap, before setting it on my side.

Sugawara nods, understanding the circumstances. "That makes sense. I'm sure you'll enjoy it now that you've got a friend in the neighborhood. Although, a girl like you must be quite familiar, right?"

'Is that intended to be disrespectful, or am I just tripping?' I think to myself, asking him to spell out the meaning of that remark. "I'm sorry, what? A girl like me?"

"Oh, crap! I didn't mean that to sound rude— I meant because of your band! I understand you guys are the talk around school, considering you're getting pretty popular in the field."

A sigh of relief leaves my lips, preparatory to my correction. "Oh, my band. I'm not sure I necessarily make friends, more like connections and acquaintances. Only a couple of students know about the band, and usually just the down-low ones. But enough about me, what about you, hm? I assume still volleyball obsessed."

I had obviously steered in the wrong direction with our conversation, for Suga's aura quickly altered at the mention of the sport. "Eh, I'm not as excited about it as I used to be." He says, along with a hint of dissatisfaction in his raspy voice.

"No way. What happened to cheerful Sugawara who asked me, the lamest, to join the girls' team?" I ask, hoping a bit of that childish personality was still inside the older version of Suga. The one which was taller, more masculine, more of a man than before.

"Honestly, can't tell you. 'Teams has been a mess ever since I've joined." He leans back in his seat, stretching his arms out, before placing them around his neck from behind. "We're hanging on my a very thin thread."

"Dang, that really sucks. You never know, things can always turn out better." I say, doing as he did, and resting against the leather seats.

"Yeah, of course. I guess it's pretty hard to keep going after so many fails, haha." A sad chuckle leaves his mouth, as he sighs.

"Anyway, nice talking. I'm outta take a quick power nap; I barely got sleep last night. Mind waking me up when we get to school?"

"Yeah, of course," Sugawara replies. With that, I'm left with laying music in my ears like always, and nodded off to slumber.

—

"Hey, sleepyhead. We're at school," I hear someone say, feeling a tap of a cold finger on my nose. Almost immediately, I shoot up from my position, standing directly above Sugawara while students leave the bus with their bags, having loud discussions of excitement. Was there anything more embarrassing than falling asleep on someone who ghosted you as a friend?

"Dear God, I'm terribly sorry." I panic, brushing down my blue skirt. "That happens on rides, it was a mistake."

"Oh, it's no big deal! Don't worry—" Suga chuckles, standing up from sitting. But before I could let him talk anymore, I started making my way towards the exit of the bus.

"Uhm, I've gotta go! Great talking, though. I'll catch you later, have a good day," I mumble, before frantically leaving the vehicle. 'What a morning.'

— K. S. Perspective

Before I could grant Y/n a polite goodbye, she'd disappeared in just a few seconds. But even so, the measly to,e I'd discussed with her was quite enjoyable. I couldn't believe how much she'd changed.

Long ago, the beginning of high school, Y/n was the type of girl you could barely see, as if she were invisible. I think the only reason I ever even noticed her was because we were seated next to each other in math class, and she immediately caught my attention. But thank goodness I had at least tried making an effort to talk to her, or else we wouldn't have had our conversation this morning. But it wasn't her fault she was so gloomy; supposedly she had lost someone close to her the year before.

Although our talk was brief, it still meant a lot to me. Especially since I was informed that she was finally happy. Looking down at the seat she used, there was a small box with a handle at the top, and a few anime stickers covering it.

'Is this what was making that loud tapping noise on the way here?' I asked myself, examining the box more. Small initials marked 'Y.L.' We're at the bottom, informing me it was Y/n's. At first, I considered handing it to our bus driver, but for the few years I've known him I learned he doesn't return lost things. And so, I leave the bus with it in my hands, ready to start my morning.

"Suga!" I hear a familiar voice call out to me. Looking up, I see my friend, Daichi, and another fellow behind him, Tanaka. The two of them jog towards me, with their scarfs unfolding in the wind. Both I had met in volleyball, and they've been my buddies ever since.

"Hey, Sugawara!" Tanaka exclaims, roughly slapping my back. The bento tosses in my hands, thankfully not spilling onto the floor. Unfortunately, he notices the box and snatches it right out of my hold. "Wow, feeling a bit girly, are we?"

I laugh in response, quickly taking it back. "It's not mine, it belongs to the person who sat next to me today. Hopefully, if I see her again I can give return it."

"Hopefully?" Daichi teases, as we all begin our walk towards the school doors. "Do you know her name?"

"Yeah, her name's Y/n. Know her?"

He lights up at the mention of their name, replying "Oh, I know her! That girl you never shut up about I in first year, correct?"

"Ha, yeah."

Tanaka doesn't understand, digging deeper into the situation. "What?! I've never known good ole' Suga to genuinely have feelings for a girl, unless it was some fling."

"I don't! I used to. There's a difference." I say, as we enter the building.

"If she rides your bus, then why don't you just give it to the driver? She'll probably go looking for it later at the end of the day. That is unless you wanna see her again.." Daichi teases me.

"You see, I would. But the bus driver is sort of a thief, and this girl has had a rough morning as it is. I just wanna be nice." I explain to him. Though a part of me did want to see her again and hope that we could talk longer than we did before.

"Sure you do," Tanaka says, patting our backs. "Listen, this is my stop. I'll catch you guys at practice?"

"Sure thing, bye." We say our farewells, and make our way towards the third-year halls. "What about you, Daichi? Got anything exciting happening this hour?"

"If stressing about volleyball counts, then yes! Most definitely.." He says, clearing his throat. "Watch, like, two people show up."

"Actually, Kiyoko informed us in the group chat that we've got at least four! That's better than last year, right?" I try my best to cheer him up, but it only made him even more nervous. I couldn't blame him. Too much was even more of a burden, but too little was a disappointment and would leave us exactly where we left off.

"It's okay, Suga. I have a lot of faith in our team. I know it's been rough lately, but as long as we try our best, we'll work this out." Daichi smiles, turning towards a separate hallway than mine. "I'm off to homeroom. See you later!"

"Yeah, see ya!" I'm left by myself, giving me more time to focus on what should happen today. - 1st, I have to go through each class and say hi to a couple of familiars, and hopefully not see anyone I've had a conflict with.

- 2nd, I had to give Y/ns bento back to them, but that could only happen if we happened to have a class with each other before, or if we had the same lunch.

- 3rd, volleyball tryouts were this afternoon. I had to make sure and represent myself as a role model, and make it clear I was vice-captain. I wanted nothing more than for the new players to feel safe.

But internally, I knew none of those plans would work out. Especially if I wasn't focused on them. Currently, all I could think about was Y/n, and how refreshing it felt to be around her again. When I was first around her was at the same time when things in my life started to fall apart, and my little crush on her made me feel better about it all. I guess you could say she was my comfort corner, even if she talked to me only once or twice during the week. And sometimes on her bad days, I would be able to at least get a laugh out of her, even if it meant making a complete fool out of myself.

All I wanted was for her not to harm herself or feel lonely, which took a quick turn towards me once the year had ended. Not only had my thing for her end, but my family soon fell apart after my mother had passed away. Of course, I still had my responsibilities like volleyball club and helping my younger sister and my father get through it. But it seemed that everyone would do their own thing, so I did the same. And for a while, I was lonely and didn't cope with the loss very well. Just like Y/n, I distanced myself.

This went on throughout my entire second year of high school, while she on the other hand started to get her life together. She started her band, made and covered a couple of songs, and finally healed from her hard year. Honestly, I didn't even really believe that she was in such a good state, but I was proven wrong today. Ultimately, she truly inspired me to pick myself up and start fresh. And now that she popped up so suddenly, I was back to square one.

'It's been a while, Y/n'

—

HEYYY SHAWTYYYS.

Give me notes.

SO, I've finally rewritten the first chapter of my fanfiction!! It took a while, but I did it. If you didn't know, I started this story about eight months ago, and I had no writing experience. Now that I'm reaching the climax of this story, I decided I should edit the chapter, especially since they sucked ass! Nothing much was changed, just far more detailing and extra feelings.

Overall, thanks so much for reading the first chapter. Please vote if you enjoyed it!! It helps others know that it's worth reading. And if not, no worries. Thanks anyways. I love you all so much!

- your friendly Suga simp

#sugawara x reader #sugawara koshi #koshi sugawara #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#ao3 #fanfic #anime #wattpad #writing #fanfiction

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im-fairly-whitty · 4 years

Text

The Witcher Wolf 2: Geralt’s POV

It’s been two weeks since Geralt drove Jaskier away from him on that mountain top and Geralt’s been doing his best not to think about it by accepting every contract he comes across. But when a job goes badly he find himself cursed into the form of an injured wolf and is then saved by none other than Jaskier himself, who has no idea that the animal he’s taken under his wing is his own witcher.

Geralt must now try to alert Jaskier to his real situation and adjust to his new life traveling with the bard, learning several hard but very much needed lessons along the way.

[Read Jaskier’s POV] [Read Geralt’s POV Chapter 1/2]

Chapter 2/2

The sun was streaming through the windows of their inn room and Jaskier was still sound asleep, even as the late morning warmth made Geralt downright uncomfortable at still being indoors this late.

Staying in bed past dawn was not a luxury that frequently arose in the life of a witcher, usually only happening when Geralt was terribly injured. Not even winters spent at Kaer Morhen were enough to keep him in bed late, he was always up and moving before the cock crowed, finding himself scaling the fortress walls for chilly morning exercise or even just browsing the library to brush up on hunting knowledge.

But after a week of traveling with Jaskier as a wolf Geralt had now spent a week of mornings not leaving the inn room until the sun was well in the sky. He’d always known Jaskier was less than pleased to be roused early every morning when they traveled together, but hadn’t ever realized just how different the man’s real sleeping habits were when he was alone.

Geralt nosed at Jaskier’s hand yet again in a quiet effort to rouse him, but the bard simply rolled over, tangling himself even further in the sheets. Not even Geralt restlessly jumping onto and off of the bed several times in the last hour had shifted Jaskier, who seemed perfectly content to lay sprawled across the mattress until evening, wasting away the entire day in messy haired sleep until it was time to perform for the evening crowd again.

Geralt padded over to the window, rearing up onto his back legs to get his front paws on the window sill, looking out over the bustling morning marketplace outside. It felt like it was mocking him, a whole town of people with tasks and chores and jobs going about their days. All with responsibilities that had them out of bed and moving, with hands to actually do them with too.

And maybe that was what was really getting on Geralt’s nerves. Not the fact that Jaskier wasn’t awake yet, not even the fact that he was still cooped up indoors...

...but the fact that even if Geralt were to get out there was nothing for him to do.

If he were his normal self there’d be no problem with him leaving Jaskier to sleep in while he went off to replenish his ingredient stock in the market, check notice boards for work, or even go after a contract and return later that night covered in gore and richer in coin. There was always something for a Witcher to be doing. If there wasn’t that meant it was time for Geralt to move to the next town, Jaskier always following behind.

But now, for the first time in his unnaturally long life, there was truly nothing for Geralt to do. No contracts to take. No possessions to replenish or sharpen. Not even Roach to go out and groom.

He had nothing.

And he was starting to feel an awful lot like nothing too.

I am a witcher. His age old mantra, the stubborn phrase that had gotten him through everything, had worn thin awfully fast without anything remotely witchery left of him. But if he wasn’t a Witcher then what was he? Anything that even mattered?

Geralt shook himself with a whine that shifted to a light growl as he stalked over to the bed, grabbing Jaskier’s sleeve and tugging on it hard.

Jaskier groaned, shifting his face into the pillow. “Too early.” he muttered.

Geralt growled in earnest now, grabbing more sleeve in his teeth and pulling Jaskier off the bed with one yank. The bard fell to the floor with a yelp, startling awake with wide eyes and tousled hair.

“Well alright then, I’m up, you don’t have to yell.” Jaskier yawned, looking annoyed. “What’s wrong with you today anyway?”

Geralt looked away, maintaining his low growl.

“So grumpy.” Jaskier said, getting to his feet and stretching. “Well I suppose if I’m up already we can get something to eat and head down to the market.” He dropped back to sit on the mattress and started fumbling with a pair of pants, still blinking sleep from his eyes. “We’ve gotten plenty of coin and now that it’s obvious you’re planning on hanging around I want my belt back. Let’s get you a real collar today, what do you think about that?”

Geralt stopped his growling, letting out a low huff instead as he trotted to the door, pawing at it impatiently to signal his answer. At first wearing a collar had felt awkward and degrading, but that had been before Geralt had realized that in fact it was his ticket to safety.

As a person he relied on his armor and medallion to tell people important things for everyone’s safety: I am a Witcher. I am dangerous but reliable. I am to be left alone. As a wolf he had to send far different messages: I am tame. I am safe to be around. I belong to someone. And as foolish as it sometimes felt, Geralt wasn’t too stupid to realize the social power and protection the teal floral printed belt around his neck had given him. It was an armor all its own.

But the thought of getting one that wasn’t actually part of Jaskier’s wardrobe was still exciting him far more than it should have, probably because this was the first thing that had happened for him in a week, and he found himself nearly desperate to get going.

He huffed at himself, ears flicking back in annoyance. How far had he really fallen to be whining and prancing in place at the prospect of running an errand for himself?

Jaskier only laughed at his clear impatience, but did pick up his pace a bit. By the time the two of them found their way into the crowded marketplace Geralt felt like he was going to burst with impatience as Jaskier leisurely made his way from stall to stall, looking over the wares of different merchants. Geralt could smell the leather worker’s stall all the way at the end of the street, why didn’t Jaskier hurry up and take him there already?

“-yes, collars. Something big enough for my dog?” He heard Jaskier say.

Geralt trotted back to his side as a merchant pulled a box out from under his table.

“Well you’ve got quite a pet there friend,” the merchant said, looking Geralt over with an impressed look. “But I think I’ve got a few in here that’ll fit even him, take a look.”

Jaskier started pulling out collars and setting them on the tabletop. Several of brown leather, several that looked too short. One ridiculously ornate one that wasn’t even leather at all, but woven out of stiff colored threads in patterns of flowers.

Geralt’s ears pricked forward as Jaskier set a last one on the table. It was wide and thick, made of black leather with silver studs punched into it. It looked so much like Geralt’s old witcher armor that he started whining, nosing at it. This one, get me this one.

“Hang on Geralt, don’t chew on any of these, I don’t want to end up buying them all.” Jaskier said, pushing Geralt’s snout away.

Geralt growled, shoving past Jaskier’s hand as he pawed at the studded collar again. This. One. Get it. He could smell Jaskier’s frustration at him but he didn’t care. This was supposed to be about him.

“I expect he likes the smell of the leather.” The merchant chuckled. “He’d look right fearsome in that one though, it would suit a beast like him.”

“That’s exactly why I’m not getting that one.” Jaskier said easily, pushing Geralt away from it again and picking up the studded collar. Geralt could smell the bard’s scent sharpen. “He’s a companion, not a hunting dog, he needs to look the part he’s playing. Any bard worth their salt knows the importance of costume.”

Geralt barely heard what Jaskier said, only seeing him pick up the woven collar instead as he dropped the studded one back into the box. Geralt’s ears pinned back and he let out a frustrated growling bark, wishing he could push Jaskier aside like usual to just do it himself, or at least give him a piece of his mind.

But instead Geralt startled as Jaskier spun on him, looking him directly in the eyes with a simmering expression he’d never ever directed at Geralt before. His sharp scent, that was anger coming off of the bard.

“Stop.” Jaskier commanded, his voice laced with enough angry finality that Geralt actually felt his tail tuck a bit between his legs.

The bard’s voice wasn’t heated, in fact it was icy cold. His scent went from sharp to something a step more painful. It was so intense that it almost felt like Jaskier was really seeing him, but he’d never talked to Geralt like this when he was a person.

“New rule.” Jaskier said, his voice chillingly even, not breaking eye contact for a moment. “Unless you’re in pain or I’m in danger there’s going to be absolutely no growling at me. I’ve gotten a lifetime's worth of that from your namesake thank you very much, and I refuse to take any more of it.”

Geralt was silent, he would have been speechless even if he’d been capable of speaking.

He’d seen Jaskier pick fights with insult tossing peasants before, had seen him charge into a brawl with nothing but a glass bottle to defend himself, had even seen him square up with generals and sorceresses and monsters far more powerful than him over the years when the situation called for it.

But he’d never seen this side of Jaskier. Because the scent of anger coming off the bard was no match for the scent of emotional pain that overpowered it.

...I was stupid enough to hang around him for years...

...he bit far more than you do my friend. With words I mean...

...I mean he was always insulting me…

And with that Jaskier turned back to the merchant, leaning against the table with an easy smile as he began haggling over the price of the woven collar. Geralt sat silently at his feet, his mind replaying what Jaskier had told his wolf self in confidence over the past week about his witcher self.

Being around Jaskier as a wolf had of course already revealed to Geralt just how out of line he’d been when he’d chased the bard off three weeks ago, but had Jaskier really hated his normal day-to-day growling that much all these years? Geralt knew he wasn’t the easiest person to be around by a long shot, but Jaskier had never seemed to mind. He’d always just smiled and shook his head whenever Geralt had resorted to sharp single word answers and angry grunting instead of longer wordy phrases.

Geralt wasn’t always like that. Especially around Jaskier, who was the only person who regularly cajoled him into real full length conversations as they traveled the continent together. But even when he was more talkative Geralt had never shied away from loosing the brunt of his frustrations or bad moods on Jaskier. Just like he had with his poor mood today. Just like...

...if life could give me one blessing it would be to take you off my hands...

Ah.

Geralt hated feeling guilt, but this felt far worse than anything he’d felt in years. Because Jaskier had minded how flippantly Geralt had treated him sometimes, minded terribly in fact, but had hid it from him. Or perhaps Geralt had never wanted to notice, had always had the luxury of pushing past Jaskier and onto his own plans like he’d tried with the collars.

But now Geralt could only sit and wait as the bard handled things for him, left to silently review every growl, every snapped reply, every unfair accusation his brain could dredge up from the last twenty two years that had been aimed at Jaskier.

Above him Jaskier was of course as patient and sunny as ever as he settled on a price with the merchant, even as the scent of pain still ebbed from him. The same scent he’d gotten the times he’d confided to Geralt without realizing who he was really talking to.

Geralt knew by now just how badly he’d hurt Jaskier by not reciprocating his affection and by verbally attacking him on the mountain, but it was a new kind of pain to realize that the bard might have been hurting their entire friendship.

There was a shaking of hands and an exchanging of coin above and then the merchant took the box, heading to the back of his stall. Jaskier turned to Geralt with a smile, getting down on one knee as he unlatched the old belt collar and slipped on the new one.

“Here we are.” Jaskier said, adjusting the new collar—which did feel like a much more comfortable fit than the belt had—around Geralt’s neck. “You do look handsome, any lord would be glad to have you curled up in front of their fireplace by their side, you magnificent thing.”

Geralt looked at the ground, not wanting to meet Jaskier’s eyes. Jaskier’s smile dropped, replaced with a concerned look.

“I'm sorry I snapped at you.” He said quietly, petting his head. “You have been difficult today but you didn’t deserve that. You’re not the one I’m really upset at, I’ll make it up to you with a treat when we get back to the inn, alright?”

Except Geralt was the one who deserved it. But continuing to sulk would only worry Jaskier more, so instead he wagged his tail, pushing his head up against Jaskier’s chest in what little apology he could manage in this state. If he ever regained the ability to speak that’s what he would say first, a real apology for everything.

“There’s a good boy.” Jaskier chuckled, scruffing his hands through the thick fur of Geralt’s neck. “A good handsome boy. You’re going to be quite the heart stealer with that new collar of yours, you just wait.”

Geralt leaned up against Jaskier as he stood, doing his best to be as non growly as possible as they went on their way through the marketplace.

It was going to take a bit of extra effort to not resort to growling and snapping and snarling, but Geralt was already determined to keep Jaskier’s new rule. After all, it’s not as if he had any other challenges to keep him busy. And besides, making sure Jaskier felt only appreciated was long overdue.

***

Geralt had been a wolf for an entire month now and he’d learned many things about Jaskier, but he’d also learned things about life. Some admittedly more useful than others.

He’d learned that all animals from chickens to cattle had a subtle language all their own that people just didn’t catch, a language he still didn’t understand fully but that he was getting better at everyday. He’d learned that most humans could be charmed by a wagging tail and a pretty collar faster than even Jaskier could manage. He’d even learned that there was a certain delectable smell that could only be gotten from rolling in garbage, but he was fairly sure that the virtue of that particular realization was heavily dependent on him being a wolf.

But perhaps the most important thing he’d learned was that humans didn’t watch what they said at all when they thought there were only animals around to hear them.

“Talented bard they’ve got tonight.”

Geralt’s ear flicked toward the three men who were leaning against the outside of the tavern as he snuffled through the long grass, tracking a mouse he’d smelled in the evening air. Over the weeks Jaskier had become far more relaxed with how close he kept Geralt, meaning that Geralt was allowed to wander as he pleased as long as he kept out of trouble. It was a small freedom that had made life far more enjoyable, not the least of which being because Geralt could eavesdrop on unwitting humans even more easily than he had as a witcher.

“He’s got a pretty enough voice,” said one of the other men. Geralt could tell the three men were watching him but continued his snuffling. “Been making quite a name for himself with that white wolf, just look at him. Tame as anything and as eye catching as they come. Saw some kids playing with him earlier, no wonder he’s getting his master a reputation.”

“I bet the bard’s purse is even prettier than his face.” The third man mused. “He sure dresses well enough. Bet that dog would fetch a pretty price too if he could be convinced to part with him.”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed as the men all chuckled, an ugly sound.

“I heard he’s staying at the Golden Swallow.” The second man said. “Wouldn’t take much to pay him a visit late tonight, have a chat and see if he’s willing to part ways with some of his finer things. I reckon the three of us would have pretty good chances against one bard, don’t you think?”

Geralt kept himself as outwardly calm as possible, even as a sticky hot protectiveness trickled down his spine.

“What about the wolf?” the first man asked. “I don’t fancy a tussle with something that big if it gets upset.”

“It’s not a wolf, it’s an overgrown lapdog.” the second scoffed, unfolding his arms. “He’s tame as anything, probably wouldn’t even notice it’s changed masters. Look, I’ll show you. Hey, here boy!”

Geralt let himself look up as the man called to him, snapping his fingers and smiling.

If Geralt were still a witcher he would have made short work of these men, bluntly confronting them with enough blade to get them to abandon their plans at best, making sure they’d never harm anyone again at worst. Although he doubted they would have let themselves speak so carelessly around a witcher in the first place.

As a wolf though...as a wolf Geralt found himself wanting to try seeing what would happen if he handled this entirely differently. Because they were not going to lay a single finger on his Jaskier, that much he knew.

“Pspsps, here boy, come here you big brute.” The man said, calling to him in a high pitched sing-song voice.

Geralt pricked his ears and bounded forward toward the men, panting in a charade of canine happiness. The man laughed as he bent down to pet him.

“See? Tame as anything. He’s just a big stupid beast, aren’t you?” he crooned, scratching behind Geralt’s ears.

Geralt made a show of enjoying the affection as the other men petted him as well, but this close to the men he could now see for certain that none of them were carrying weapons. Their mistake.

“Why don’t I take him home now and we take care of the bard later?” The first man suggested, his dirty fingers curling around Geralt’s collar. “That way we don’t have to worry about dragging him out of the inn and barking while we slit his master’s throat.”

It took every ounce of Geralt’s willpower not to snarl, but he kept it back, well practiced after a month of quietly tempering his fouler moods.

“Not a bad idea.” The third man nodded. “That way we can even have some fun with the bard too. He’s real pleasant to look at, would be a shame to waste it so fast.”

The men all laughed. The fingers on Geralt’s collar loosened.

Perfect.

Geralt silently lunged up at the first man, jaws snapping shut on the bandit’s throat and ripping before he even had time to finish his laugh, instead collapsing to the dirt with a hollow moan and glassy eyes as blood pooled around him.

Without missing a beat Geralt lept at the third man, feeling his adrenaline pounding as he knocked the bandit to the ground. The man’s eyes widening in horror as he tried to cover his face in still dawning shock. Geralt had never fought anything larger than rabbits as a wolf, but the sticky hot iron taste of the blood in his mouth was the same and his witcher killing instincts certainly hadn’t gone anywhere.

It was messy and hot and fast, but before the second man—the ringleader—had time to even properly stumble back his second fallen comrade was twitching in the dirt with a gurgling shriek.

“What, what-” the ringleader stuttered, looking at his two dead friends in shock. Men who had been standing and laughing and plotting an innocent man’s death only moments before.

Geralt looked up at the man, panting happily again knowing what a chilling sight it made him as blood dripped from his open mouth.

“Y-you, you heard us, didn’t you?” The bandit said hollowly, Geralt could hear his racing heart and the cloying scent of fear flowing off him.

Geralt knew by now that he couldn’t properly nod his head, but he dipped his head up and down in his best imitation as he smiled his canine grin, eyes squinted with grim satisfaction to see the bandit’s face pale even further.

“You’re no wolf.” The bandit gasped, stumbling back desperately, eyes wide as his hands scrabbled in the weeds for anything he could use as a weapon. “You’re cursed. What are you?”

Geralt huffed at the irony. Maybe it would be worth letting the villain live just on the off chance he’d let Jaskier in on the secret.

“We were just joking.” The bandit said hurriedly. “We weren’t really going to do anything to your master, we weren’t really going to kill him, honest! Leave me be, I’ll do him no harm, I swear it!”

Even if Geralt hadn’t smell the bald-faced lie on the bandit his sharp eyes spotted the man’s hand close around a discarded bar of iron in the weeds. The man’s face twisted in a snarl of his own as he swung the metal at Geralt’s head.

It was over almost before it began, Geralt lunged and the metal clattering out of the bandit’s limp fingers as he collapsed under the wolf’s attack. Geralt panted heavily as he stood in the alleyway, now alone with three bodies that would never kill anyone again. More importantly, who would never kill Jaskier.

Geralt whined, trying to scent the air for Jaskier but not smelling much over the cloying iron scent of the blood covering his snout. A cold feeling swept through him as he realized he wasn’t out of danger yet. As a Witcher he could get away with slaughtering murderous bandits, but if the townspeople found three men dead of dog bites and spotted a wolf covered in gore he knew there was only one way for that particular story to end.

Geralt latched onto the ringleader’s collar, yanking at it to drag the body down the alley toward the canal that ran through the town. It took some doing but after a minute or two the corpse was tumbled into the murky water, quickly joined by the bandit’s two other friends.

Geralt huffed as he trotted to a nearby horse trough, doing his best to rinse the worst of the blood from his face and paws but having no way of seeing how successful he was. He shook himself to get the excess water off, spooking a rabbit from the weeds. His ears pricked up as an idea occurred to him and he took off after it.

***

“Geralt, look at you, you mighty hunter. Finally returning from your evening of fun I see.” Jaskier said, shaking his head in amusement as he let Geralt into their inn room. “But really, did you catch that rabbit in a lake? You’re a damp mess. I swear you’ve been getting enough to eat, but perhaps not if you’re still hunting?”

Geralt wagged his tail as he dropped the rabbit at his feet, just happy to see his bard safe and sound, a now familiar warm loving feeling rushing through him.

He wished he could tell Jaskier what had happened. He wished he could tell him how he’d felt, angry and protective. He wished he could pull Jaskier into a hug just to reassure himself that no one else was going to touch him.

But he couldn’t. He hadn’t before and he couldn’t now that he felt like he was bursting with words and emotions that he couldn’t express them even if he wanted to.

Probably because he had no choice.

And he did very much want to.

“Well we’ll make sure to get you more to eat if you need it.” Jaskier said with a smile, fetching a towel and kneeling to rub Geralt down with it, paying special attention to cleaning his face. “You’ll get us kicked out of inns if you make a habit of showing up late and wet with rabbit blood on your snout you know.”

Geralt shook his newly dried fur, pushing his face against Jaskier, making the bard laugh and hug his neck.

“I love you too, you ridiculous thing.” Jaskier said warmly, kissing his head.

Geralt whined, several emotions fighting uselessly in him. Useless since he had no way to show them.

“Well I’m back to sleep if you care to join me.” Jaskier said with a yawn, setting aside the towel and collapsing back onto the mattress, having apparently already been asleep when Geralt had come scratching at the door.

Geralt lept up onto the bed without hesitation, curling up against Jaskier and resting his head on the bard’s chest.

“Good boy.” Jaskier said, eyes already closed as he ran his fingers through Geralt’s fur, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

Geralt watched him sleep, thinking of all the things he would say if he could. All the things that he likely had permanently missed out on ever saying.

Because Jaskier was never going to figure out Geralt’s curse on his own, that much had become clear over the last month. The only thing Geralt had been able to think of was if Yennifer somehow came across the bard, surely she’d at least recognize Geralt as cursed if not recognizing him as Geralt.

But he knew too much about curses to be naive enough to suppose that even Yennifer would be able to break it even if she knew about it. Curses were tricky, stubborn things. Their cures were always cryptic hidden clues tied to their beginnings, if they even had a cure at all.

With Geralt unable to even tell Yen who had cursed him or how she wouldn’t even have a place to start, leaving him a wolf forever.

Geralt whined softly, shifting closer to Jaskier as his gaze flicked up, toward the locked door that no bandits would be coming through tonight.

Well at least he was spending his new life the best way he could imagine, at Jaskier’s side, protecting him even if he didn’t know it. Even if Geralt wished it were different, there was no place he’d rather be.

***

“Geralt, if you don’t bring the stick back to me I can’t throw it for you.”

Geralt bounded right past Jaskier, happily carrying his stick in his mouth as he dashed back and forth across the dirt road the two of them were traveling down. The warm afternoon sun warmed the fur on his back as he pranced through weeds, investigating intriguing smells as he came across them.

Geralt had no idea where they were going that day, and he had no idea when they were going to get there, and that was perfectly fine. Because he and Jaskier were together and that was more than enough. Although his new stick certainly helped.

He bounded back to the bard, letting him wrestle the stick from his mouth after a few playful tugs, and then took off after it again when Jaskier threw it for him.

Two months ago Geralt would never have believed that his life could be so simple, and he never would have believed that the uncomplicated joy of traveling with his best friend could have satisfied him so easily. And yet, here they were. Long mornings spent curled up next to Jaskier in bed, effortless afternoons traveling or strolling markets, joyful evenings sitting at the bard’s side while he performed, and then nights of listening attentively to whatever crossed Jaskier’s mind as the two of them lounged in front of a fire.

Geralt of course missed plenty of things about being a witcher, for one his list of things he wished he could tell Jaskier was always growing, but as time had gone on he’d decided that perhaps this fate wasn’t entirely terrible after all.

Geralt’s ears pricked up as the sound and scent of horses approaching, a lot of them. He emerged from the tall grasses at the side of the road to see a horse merchant’s caravan passing them on the road. His eyes widened as a particular smell reached him from the group, a painfully familiar one coming from a glossy chestnut mare with a stripe down her face.

Geralt let out a bark of surprise and the mare looked up, her ears twitching toward him. When she saw him she let out a sharp whinny of recognition that jolted him into action. His stick dropped to the ground forgotten as he rushed up to Roach, yelping and whining in excitement.

It was Roach.

The roadside exploded into chaos around him, spooked horses yanking at their leads and trying to skitter away from him, the horse merchant shouting, Jaskier yelling at him too as his hand grabbed his collar. But Geralt was single minded in his focus as he hauled Jaskier forward toward Roach, whining desperately as his horse put up a fit of her own trying to tug away from her lead toward him.

Then suddenly Jaskier’s grip faltered. “...Roach?” he said, voice sounding dry.

Geralt looked up at Jaskier, whining and barking. It’s her, it’s my horse, do something please!

“Where did you get that horse?” Jaskier demanded of the horse merchant, letting go of Geralt’s collar.

Geralt dashed up to Roach with the bard close behind, filled with gratitude that Jaskier had caught on so quickly. Geralt danced around Roach’s feet, yelping in canine excitement as the horse dipped her head to nose at him affectionately. She’d seen him turned into a wolf, of course she knew it was him.

In the excitement Geralt missed most of what the humans were doing but it sounded like Jaskier was in a full shouting match with the horse merchant.

“-she’s coming with me now as well as anything else you stole from back where you found her.” Jaskier said angrily. “And believe me, I’ll know if you try to keep any of it back.”

Geralt whined in gratitude, pressing against Jaskier’s legs as he untied Roach from the caravan. The bard had no reason to be doing this, not after thinking his last interaction with Geralt had been that disaster back on the mountain. Jaskier had every right to look the other way and wish Geralt’s apparent disappearance good riddance, but instead he was going out of his way to get his horse and things back for him. Geralt didn’t deserve this kindness at all.

Two of the horse merchant’s boys dumped armloads of all too familiar things at their feet and Geralt nearly stumbled as the scent of his own witcher belongings rushed over him. The dusty leather scent of his armor, still spattered in grime. The sharp varied smells of his alchemy bag. And of course the constant smell of steel and silver as Jaskier pulled his two swords out of the pile of things.

It felt almost as if Geralt were waking from a dream, memories of a past life weaving their way back to him. He felt an aching longing for it, wishing desperately for his old body again, wishing to be a witcher again so he could take up all his things and his life.

“These were all at the camp?” Jaskier asked sharply, looking through the pile as if he were taking stock of every item. Geralt could smell anger and distress flowing off the bard.

“They were, strewn about in a right mess too.” The merchant said, looking eager to get all this over with and gone.

“The medallion.” Jaskier demanded horsley, looking up from a saddlebag. “Where’s the silver wolf medallion?”

Geralt whined softly as he realized what why Jaskier smelled so distraught. Geralt would never have voluntarily left all his belongings and Roach behind, Jaskier must think that his witcher was dead.

One of the boys handed over Geralt’s old silver medallion to Jaskier, who took it stiffly, his scent spiking from anger to shock and grief. Geralt had never ever smelled Jaskier this sad before and it twisted at his gut, the now familiar feeling of guilt eating at him. Because of course this was all his fault and he couldn’t stand Jaskier being hurt by him again, especially when it was all a terrible misunderstanding.

Geralt nosed at the medallion in Jaskier’s hand, whining. I’m not dead! I’m still here with you, don’t be sad!

Jaskier silently handed the merchant some coin and the caravan left as quickly as it came, leaving the bard the wolf and the horse alone on the dusty road with all of Geralt's earthly possessions piled in front of them. It felt like some kind of surreal dream Geralt couldn’t manage to wake up from, a dream that turned toward a nightmare as Jaskier collapsed to his knees, breaking into rough sobs as tears ran freely down his face.

No no no. Geralt pressed against Jaskier as close as he could get. Don’t cry! None of this is your fault! I’m not dead! If only he could talk, all of this could be solved in an instant. Jaskier hugged Geralt tightly, burying his face in his fur as he continued to sob. Geralt settled heavily across the bard’s lap, being as present and comforting as he knew how. He idly wondered how he might have dealt with a crying bard before all this. Would he have stood awkwardly by? Would he have tried to comfort him at all or been too concerned with his own discomfort at such a strong display of emotions?

It took a long time for Jaskier’s tears to ease a bit.

“He’s, he’s gone.” Jaskier hiccuped, opening his hand to look at the medallion in his hand. “I mean...I k-know I already lost him...b-but not like this.”

Geralt whined quietly, pressing his head against Jaskier’s shoulder bracingly. You haven’t lost me. I’m not gone, I wish I could make you understand.

“Why did that have to be the last time I saw him...” Jaskier said quietly, burying his face in Geralt’s fur. “Why did it have to end like that? I really believed I would see him again. What am I going to do now?” He looked up as Roach nudged his shoulder, the horse clearly confused by Jaskier’s grief.

“Oh Roach, I’m so sorry. You probably saw it actually happen, you poor thing.” Jaskier said, getting to his feet and rubbing her cheek, easing off the rough rope bridle from the merchant. “I know he didn’t like me much by the end, but I hope it’s alright if you stick with me. I promise I’ll keep you brushed and well fed, no monster hunting, but I’ll take good care of you.”

Geralt was nearly whining in frustration at not being able to talk, unable to pull Jaskier into a reassuring hug, unable to thank him for everything he was doing. All he could do was stay right by the man’s side as he set about slowly saddling Roach and packing up all of Geralt’s witcher things with practiced care, sadness still dripping off him. Sadness Geralt desperately needed to wipe away.

Jaskier finished packing up Roach and stood back, pulling Geralt’s old medallion out of his pocket and staring at it. Geralt looked up attentively as Jaskier got down on one knee in front of him.

“I need you to hold onto this for me alright?” Jaskier said quietly. “Keep it safe while we travel.”

Geralt sat very still in agreement, nearly reverent as the bard gave him back his own medallion.

But the instant the metal chain passed over his nose Geralt could feel something changing, a quivering electric rush that crept over him as the chain passed over his head. He distantly felt the weight of the medallion hit his chest as a flash of light sent him stumbling to his feet, but an instant later his vision cleared, leaving him staring at his his own two very human hands.

Geralt’s eyes widened in surprised shock as he looked himself over, his complete witcher self back to normal. The medallion had broken the curse!

Barely an instant had passed and Geralt’s witcher reflexes alerted him to Jaskier’s cry of alarm, still stumbling back from the flash of light that had evidently blinded him. Geralt caught the bard before he fell back, pulling him into a tight hug that had two months’ worth of gratitude and relief and love piled into it.

“Unhand me!” Jaskier yelped in surprise, still blinking to get his sight back as he struggled in Geralt’s grip. “Let me-”

“I’m sorry Jaskier.” Geralt said quietly in Jaskier’s ear, his voice feeling rusty after not using it for so many weeks, but still full of emotion at finally, finally being able to apologize.

Jaskier looked up at him, eyes widening in stunned recognition as he finally saw who was holding him.

“G-Geralt?”

***

“You really didn’t mind the collar? I should have picked that black leather one you wanted, that’s why you were so huffy about it, I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Geralt said, setting another log on the campfire.

He stood, walking barefoot to where Jaskier was sitting perched on his bedroll. Geralt was wearing his loosest shirt and pants, unable to bear wearing socks and shoes yet after only a few hours as a person again. But at least he’d managed to pitch camp like usual with only minimal fumbling. Jaskier was still watching Geralt with a look of fond disbelief that hadn’t left him since that afternoon, as if he were still convinced he were about to wake from a dream.

Geralt sat on the bedroll, gently pulling the bard into his lap. Jaskier smiled, reaching up to hold Geralt’s face as if he were trying to memorize him.

“I didn’t need a collar that looked like my old armor,” Geralt said, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist. “I needed the flower one, you were right to choose it. You don’t have to keep apologizing for anything, you did everything exactly right. It’s like what you said about actors having the right costume.”

“You’re going to have to be patient with me,” Jaskier chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s going to take me at least a few days to adjust to the reality of a Geralt who remembers things I’ve said weeks ago. All of this is quite a shock.”

“You’ve never been anything but patient with me.” Geralt said, taking one of Jaskier’s hands and kissing his palm. “I owe you all the patience you want a hundred times over.”

“See? This is exactly what I mean, you’re using words Geralt, about your feelings no less.” Jaskier teased with a smile, playing with the chain of Geralt’s medallion. “If I hadn’t seen you sharpening your silver sword just now I’d think I had a good natured doppler on my hands. Say, a doppler could change into a wolf couldn’t it? That would certainly make all of this make more sense. I don’t think I’ve heard of a mage turning people into wolves before, he must have been an odd bird.”

“I don’t think he was a mage.” Geralt said, watching Jaskier idly turn the medallion over in his hands as the bard rested his head against his chest. Curling up against him as a wolf had been good, but this was so much better. “I’d bet good coin there was something fae in his blood, whatever he was. They’re the kind to be as unhinged and, well, creative as he was.”

“There was so much compliment in that insult I can hardly decide whether or not to be offended.”

Geralt was on his feet in an adrenaline jolting instant, pushing Jaskier behind him and grabbing his freshly sharpened silver sword from where it lay nearby.

On the other side of their camp stood the teal and orange clad man Geralt had gone up against months ago, watching them idly, as if slightly bored.

“What do you want?” Geralt asked, voice as level as his sword. He already knew that riling the man could result in an attack he wouldn’t be able to parry, but with Jaskier at risk he couldn’t quite bring himself to lower his sword as he cast a simple protective Quen shield around the two of them. “We’ve done you no harm, leave us in peace.”

“Oh do calm yourself.” The man drawled. “I felt my curse end and I came to see whether you’d finally died in a ditch somewhere. Wolf teeth make fine ingredients you know, waste not want not and all that.”

“Geralt, he’s the one who turned you into a wolf?” Jaskier asked, pushing past him.

“Jaskier, don’t-”

“What kind of sick bastard are you anyway?” Jaskier snapped at the sorcerer, folding his arms. “Turning people to wolves, talking of harvesting their teeth for gods’ sakes. Walking around in such a disaster of an outfit as that too. I’ve half a mind to break my lute over your head, haven’t you got anything better to do than turn people into animals against their will?”

Geralt braced himself for the attack or curse that was sure to follow, but instead hesitated as the sorcerer only laughed.

“You’ve got spirit.” The man said with an easy grin. “Have you any interest in joining my collection?”

“I should think not, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.” Jaskier said hotly. “Now leave us be, we solved your stupid curse by finding the medallion so the show’s over. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

“Jaskier...” Geralt warned quietly, on edge at how many insults were being flung at the very powerful magic user. But neither of them paid him any attention.

“Medallion?” The man asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Geralt’s witcher medallion.” Jaskier said impatiently, motioning to the medallion in question. “The key to lifting your curse? We put it back on him and he became a person again?”

“Oh, it wasn’t the medallion that did it. Not really.” The man said dismissively. “Although that would have been a much more interesting key had I thought of it at the time.”

“How do you mean?” Jaskier asked, looking as surprised as Geralt felt.

“I’m afraid my curse was far more basic than that.” The sorcerer said, looking them over, his bored expression back. “It was broken by your fool of a witcher caring for someone who cared for him back as much as I cared for my poor Truskawka, may she rest in peace. I’d assumed such a violent brute would never find a cure like that.”

“Shows what you know.” Jaskier said, really starting to scare Geralt with how cocky the bard sounded. Or at least Geralt might have felt frightened if it weren’t so endearing.

“Well if you’re going to be so stubborn about it then fine, we’ll say the medallion was the cure all along and that it was my idea from the start.” the sorcerer said, nodding his head. “Still, do be careful where you take it off and on though, or I’ll get those wolf teeth yet.”

And with no further ceremony the man winked out of sight. There one moment and then gone the next. Vanished as quickly as he’d come.

“Hang on!” Jaskier spluttered. “Come back! What’s that meant to mean? Get back here and explain yourself!”

“Jaskier if you keep shouting at him you’re going to end up cursed into a lark or some nonsense.” Geralt said, lowering his sword and pulling Jaskier back.

“You heard what he said!” Jaskier said hotly, looking up at him. To Geralt’s dismay there were the beginnings of tears in the bard’s eyes. “You’re not really uncursed after all! What if he did that just because I brought the idea to his mind? What if it’s my fault that-”

Geralt silenced him with a kiss, gently taking hold of Jaskier’s arm until he settled.

“I don’t think that was something new he added just now,” Geralt said gently, still marveling at being able to use words to comfort Jaskier. “I expect it was already there without us knowing and he just has a flare for drama. Like you.”

“Don’t compare me with that thing!” Jaskier huffed. “If you’re still cursed then-”

“It’s not much of a curse when I’m with you.” Geralt said.

“You’re telling me you didn’t mind being a wolf?” Jaskier said skeptically.

“I’m telling you that we already know how to fix it.” Geralt said, holding his medallion and looking at the innocently glinting sliver surface. “I never take it off anyway, it won’t make much of a difference to me if I’ll be a wolf again without it.”

“You really didn’t mind it that much?” Jaskier asked, his mouth quirking into a smile. “Because you were with me?”

“I’ve never been able to enjoy life as simply as I did when I was only your wolf, it might be nice to revisit sometimes.” Geralt said. “As long as you were willing to look out for me again and keep the medallion safe for me I don’t think I’d mind at all.”

“As long as you do realize I’m not going to give you a bit of slack for misbehaving as a wolf now that I know it’s really you.” Jaskier teased. His eyes widened. “Hang on, you chewed apart one of my favorite boots last month! Geralt, that was expensive leather! Was there a dangerous snake inside it or something?”

“Ah…yes. Definitely. Had to protect you from the, uh, the snake.” Geralt lied, keeping his face as unguilty as possible, remembering how bored he’d been after two days without much exercise and Jaskier’s boots lying beside him on the floor. “I promise I’ll buy you a new pair as soon as I’ve taken a few contracts.”

“Well, I suppose that’s alright then, as long as you don’t do it again.” Jaskier said. He looked at the medallion at Geralt’s chest, eying it a bit warily. “So…do you want to test it?”

“No, not tonight. I’m still adjusting to having two legs again.” Geralt said with a yawn. He pulled Jaskier into a hug, nuzzling at his neck. “And besides, I like being the one to hold you for a change.”

“Well, I certainly won’t argue with that.” Jaskier said, kissing Geralt’s forehead. “I’m still going to write that song though, although I might have to be a bit more careful with the details now that I know the story isn’t ended yet.”

“I’d say it’s only just begun.” Geralt said, smiling at Jaskier’s delighted yelp as he swept the bard up into his arms to carry him back to their campfire.

----------

I don't have anything else specifically in mind for the witcher wolf series, but if you have an idea you're itching to see realized or discussed (during the time Geralt is cursed or even after they figure out the medallion's trick) feel free to drop me an ask I just might take the bait.

Thank you so much for reading! <3

- Wit

#the witcher #geralt #jaskier #geraskier #wit writes #it is finished #yee haw

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

More Than Words (Five)

Things take a turn towards lightly smexy with our boys (HOLLA), Peter comes to terms with the whole ‘soulmate’ thing and our boys have an honest conversation about what their scent match means. Honestly, the way these two talk to each other just slays me. Like I wrote the damn thing, and it still makes me swoon a little bit.

Generic TW for vague mentions of hunting/butchering an elk. I feel like no one actually cares about that, but when I was vegan/vegetarian hunting in general was sort of hard to read about so just throwing it out there for anyone else!

MTW MASTERLIST HERE

****************

Peter woke before the sunrise to see Wade buttoning into his heavy coat, half a sandwich crammed into the Alpha’s mouth and a fire already roaring behind the grate.

“Wade?” Peter rubbed at his eyes and blinked a few times. “Where are you going? The moon is still out.”

“Heya Pete.” Wade shot the Omega a quick smile before cramming another bite of sandwich into his mouth. “I gotta get into the woods and try for a couple deer to get us through the winter. Maybe an elk. Gotta fill the root cellar.”

“Root cellar.” God it was hard to think when there will still stars outside the window. “We have a root cellar? That’s a real thing?”

“Where do you think the food is stored?” Wade raised his eyebrows and gestured around the cabin. “Don’t pull beans outta thin air, Pete. We’ve got one in here and I’ve got a smaller one out by the barn where I’ll hang the meat before we can do anything with it.”

“Right. Right, no that makes sense.” Peter’s hair was hilariously rumpled, standing up in tufts all around his head. “Okay, we have a root cellar. What goes in the root cellar? What do we--” a jaw cracking yawn. “--what-- I mean um-- food--?”

“I think you’re too tired to put words together, why don’t you close your eyes again?” Wade suggested, and the sleepy sweet smile the Omega gave about made his knees give out. God damn Pete was gorgeous. “You can uh--” Wade coughed to clear his throat. “-- you can sleep late today. I’ll give the animals their feed now and be back in time to do the milking once it’s warm out again. The fire is already set so you can just rest.”

“Nah, I’m awake.” Peter sat up and stretched, sighing out loud and wrapping one of the blankets around his shoulders. “Um, I can do chores. Or I can at least help when you get back home.”

Home. If a smile had been enough to make Wade’s knees weak, hearing Peter call the cabin home was enough to put him on the floor. Ever since their moment in the barn when Peter had gone so soft and floaty, the Omega had been talking in terms of us and our, thinking out loud about how the cabin would be in the spring as if he were planning to be still be around, lingering over smiles and letting his eyes melt warm every time he looked up and caught Wade staring.

Wade didn’t know if Peter even realized what he was doing, but the Alpha loved every single second anyway.

“Or maybe I could do laundry.” Wade came back to the conversation just in time to see Peter sniff at his shirt and then wrinkle that adorable nose. “Man, do these need washed. I’ve never slept in the same jammies for ten days before. I am rank.”

“You scent amazing, Omega.” Wade tightened his laces and stood up again, purposefully looking away from the flush he knew would be painted across Peter’s cheeks. “But if you want to wash up, use the rain water in the bucket outside. Otherwise we gotta haul it from the spring up the mountain a ways like I do for the animals.”

“Rain water is fine.” Feeling inexplicably shy over Wade’s compliment-- and thinking perhaps he should just go ahead and fall sleep again so he wouldn’t say anything embarrassing in response-- Peter stared down at the quilts, pleating the material between his fingers. “Um, soap?”

“Here beneath the wash basin.” Wade opened the doors of the small cupboard to show several wrapped packages of soap. “And if you want to heat the water up, I keep the big cauldron in the root cellar.”

He waited for Peter to look up in confusion, then stamped his foot loudly so Peter could hear the echo of hollow beneath the floor. “Trap door is right here. There’s a line hung outside between the cabin and the barn--”

“-- I read once that homesteaders would run a rope between the house and the barn so they could walk along it in blizzards and not get lost when they did chores.” Peter interrupted. “Is that why you have one?”

The reference to another one of Peter’s books made Wade smile. He couldn’t imagine a life with enough down time to read as much as Peter did, but it was fuckin’ cute when the Omega spouted off random knowledge he’d picked up in a book one time.

Just fuckin’ cute.

“That’s exactly why I have it.” Wade finally said. “But you can use it to dry clothes since it’s not exactly blizzard weather yet.”

“Oh right.” the Omega smiled sheepishly. “Not blizzard weather yet. So. Hunting, though. You’ll be safe?”

“Um.” Wade slung his rifle over his shoulder and hooked a pouch of bullets to his belt. “Yes?”

“Wade.”

“I’ve never had to think about being safe, Pete. I just hunt.” An extra knife strapped to Wade’s thigh, the other half of the sandwich tucked into his pack alongside rolled bags to carry the meat home. “And remember how I always heal? I could shoot myself in the foot and be just fine by the time I make it back.”

“Okay that’s awful.” Peter made a face over Wade’s attempt at humor. “And I know you heal and that’s great but-- but I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t come back, alright? So please come back?”

It was a practical point, one worth mentioning. Peter had only been around a week and a half and had just the barest idea how to take care of the animals and the cabin. Peter hadn’t been to Haven yet and didn’t know how to get there, and beyond that he would have no idea who to ask for help if he made it down the mountain. Something awful happening to Wade would spell certain doom for the Omega, and Peter was right to worry.

“Please come back.” he said again, softer this time as he picked at a loose thread on the blanket. “Okay?”

There was a thump as Wade’s pack hit the floor, then nearly running footsteps and Peter startled when the Alpha was suddenly right in front of him, Wade pressing their foreheads together and fitting his palm to the base of Peter’s neck in a protective hold.

“Oh.” Peter swallowed. “Wade--”

“I’ll come back, Omega.” Wade rumbled and Peter shut his eyes, breathing out slowly and settling further into the touch. “Don’t worry. Stay here and stay warm, and I’ll be back real soon.”

“Oh--okay.” Peter brought his hand up to rest on the Alpha’s forearm, digging his fingers into the flex of muscle and quivering when Wade thumbed firmly over his bonding spot. “Thank you.”

“Back real soon.” Wade repeated, and Peter-- Peter might have imagined the barest brush of lips at his forehead, but Wade was out the door and gone before he could ask.

Alpha.

*****************

The cabin was comfortably warm this morning and Peter was very tempted to just cozy back into bed and maybe read his book for a while but a whiff of his pajamas had the Omega changing his mind, scrambling from the covers and stripping out of his clothes as fast as he could.

It was nice that Wade didn’t mind how Peter smelled, but Alphas liked how Omegas smelled no matter what, so the compliment didn’t mean quite as much as it would if Peter had bathed in the last two weeks.

After all, one time he’d done a mud run with MJ and Harry had gone half wild over the scent of sweaty Omegas, so Wade liking that Peter probably smelled like cabin and blankets and horses didn’t mean a damn thing.

“Into the wash you go.” Peter piled the rest of his dirty clothes by the fire, then padded naked across the cabin to get into Wade’s dresser and borrow a clean shirt. Then it was over to the root cellar Peter had never once noticed to retrieve a pot that was damn near a cauldron and lug it back up the stairs.

It felt quirky and sort of daring to be doing chores clad only in his the Alpha’s shirt, but it was a clothing choice Peter sorely regretted the moment he stepped outside.

“Oh son of a--!” A brisk morning wind swept up beneath the hem of the shirt and made the Omega scream high and girly as his most sensitive parts were treated to a wash of frigid air. Peter had never clenched his butt up so tight or so quickly in his entire life, and as he covered his front protectively and dove back inside, he was forever grateful to have had this particular snafu while no one-- not even the goat-- was there to judge him.

“Alright. New plan.”

Wade’s pants were huge on him, but Peter wasn’t about to risk going outside with his bits uncovered again, so he rolled the trouser legs up to his knees and used his belt to tighten the waist as far as it would go, and tried again.

Peter definitely wasn’t strong enough to lug a full cauldron over to the fire and up onto the hook inside, so it took fourteen different trips out into the early morning chill with a pitcher before the over sized pot was full and heating above the flames.

Then Peter kicked out of Wade’s pants and refolded them because honestly not only did he look ridiculous, but it was practically impossible to move in them and the shirt covered him down to mid thigh anyway.

No one was here to look at him anyway, right?

While waiting for the water, Peter took a few minutes to dump his backpack and clean it out. His phone screen was dark and Peter’s lips twisted into a frown when he realized even if he could charge the stupid thing, it wasn’t as if cell phone service existed in this time period. The brand new phone was nothing more than an over priced paperweight and that-- that was depressing.

The digital recorder had extra batteries at least, so Peter wouldn’t be fully without technology and if he ran out of paper, he could record all his thoughts and save them that way too.

The recorder went down to the bottom of the pack next to his worthless phone and unnecessary wallet, and the Omega moved on.

Granola bar wrappers from the hike were thrown away, but Peter kept the empty water bottle just in case, and his toothbrush and comb went next to Wade’s toothbrush and jar of tooth powder on the wash basin. A quick look into the small mirror on the wall and Peter brushed the bedhead away until his hair lay at least somewhat tame, and made a mental note to see about actually washing the mess later today.

Gwen teased him mercilessly about never wanting to use hotel toiletries. Peter always insisted on bringing his own shampoo and conditioner, a pack of face cleansing wipes and a travel sized bottle of his favorite soap and while his friends insisted hotel toiletries were built into the price of the room and therefore free to take, now Peter was infinitely relieved to have packed all his regular items.

He felt icky after being up close and personal with animals, after sweating in front of the fire before bed and then climbing under heavy blankets and after ten days of only brushing his teeth and wiping down with a rag and cold water, an actual shower or bath sounded amazing.

Later, maybe. After the clothes and at least some of the blankets were washed then he would heat up some more water -- ugh, his arms rebelled at the thought of carrying more water-- and take a proper bath.

Then Wade would really think he scented good and maybe the Alpha would--

“Easy Parker.” Peter filled the wash basin and dunked a couple pair of boxers in while he unwrapped a chunk of soap. “No need to follow that line of thought.”

That line of thought being of course, the one that inevitably started when Wade flashed those damnable fangs, moseyed down a path of jittery, tongue biting interest every time the Alpha brushed too close, and ended either in that easy, floaty realm where all Peter wanted to do was close his eyes and let Wade’s scent carry him away…

...or ended in a flash of too sharp heat, Peter’s stomach clenching as he gasped for air, core tightening and thighs squeezed together when Wade’s eyes slid from beautiful hazel to dangerous red.

No. No need to follow that line of thought, Peter wouldn’t get anything done if he started thinking too much about that.

Nope nope nope. Washing clothes it was.

It took depressingly long for Peter to wash his few outfits. First he scrubbed at them in the basin so he could pitch the dirty water and refill with ease every few garments. Then they all went into the near boiling pot over the fire to get rid of any sort of germs, after which Peter had to carry the sodden pile out onto the line outside to dry in the slowly warming air.

He started with underwear and socks and moved on to a few shirts, then onto the sweatpants he’d been wearing on the drive up, the ratty pair of brightly colored leggings he’d stolen from MJ as a joke and hadn’t realized he’d stuffed in the bottom of his pack, and finally both pairs of jeans and it took forever.

Peter would never take a washing machine for granted again.

Still, there was something to be said for the sheer satisfaction of having all clean clothes again and as Peter pitched the water in the basin and made a quick refill of the hanging pot, he made the decision to just go ahead and wash all the blankets in the cabin.

Sleeping in clean sweats and clean sheets would be absolute heaven and well worth the time and effort of hand washing.

“I can do this.” Peter looked down at his red fingers and palms, the skin rubbed raw from rough soap and already an hour and a half in and out of the water. “Clean blankets will be worth it. Come on, Pete. You can do this.”

He could do this, but it was messy sort of surprisingly difficult work to muscle heavy blankets in and out of the water and out to the line. But Peter didn’t give up, scrubbing at the sheets and working thick lathers into the blankets until they were ready to go into the refilled cauldron. Then the pillow cases, then the blankets folded in a corner by the big over stuffed chair and as Peter held them up he realized that he’d never thought about where Wade slept every night.

He took over the bed and was always passed out with in a few minutes, and even though there was a well worn couch pushed up against the far wall, it was barely big enough for Peter to stretch out on, certainly not big enough for an Alpha of Wade’s size.

“Do you sleep on the floor?” Peter asked the empty room, and judging by the number of blankets stacked by the chair, the answer seemed obvious. “Holy shit, you sleep on the floor every night so I can have the bed?”

Those blankets went into the wash immediately, and Peter gave the hot water a squirt from his bottle of body wash to freshen up the scent of the blankets too.

The Alpha deserved a little something extra for always being so sweet.

Busy with his self mandated chore, Peter didn’t notice the hours slipping away and once the very last blanket was drying on the line and all the others were refolded and set back on the bed, he tucked into the chair with his notebook and started scribbling down everything he’d done.

Peter had a list of questions-- what was the soap made of? Was there an easier way to do laundry? How often did Wade do this? Was there a laundromat in Haven or was that not a thing yet?-- but the fire was so warm, Peter’s eyes droopy after waking up so early and he was honestly sort of embarrassingly tired after doing the laundry, so halfway through his list of questions, the pen slipped from Peter’s hand and rolled to the floor as the Omega fell asleep.

He didn’t hear Wade whistle to let him know he’d returned, or hear the goat bleating in aggravation as the Alpha finally made it in to milk her. Peter didn’t hear Wade calling for him from the yard, and didn’t hear the cabin door open and close as the Alpha came looking for him--

--and Peter didn’t hear the way Wade’s breath hitched as he came around the chair and found Peter curled up and sleeping soundly wearing nothing but the Alpha’s long shirt.

He was sleeping, so he didn’t see Wade’s eyes blur darkly possessive red or hear the growl of approval the Alpha didn’t bother muffling when he saw the length of Peter’s bare legs and the way the shirt only covered him to mid thigh.

The entire cabin smelled clean, the blankets scenting of strong soap and beneath that, faintly of sandalwood and Wade’s stomach did something swoopy and wishful as he took in the domesticity of the moment.

He’d been out hunting all morning while his Omega had been home puttering around in his shirt and doing the laundry?

It was domestic and beautiful and Wade took a chance, bent down to nose over Peter’s soft cheek and inhale sleepy Omega scent like he’d wanted to do every single morning since Peter had arrived.

Peter hummed in his sleep, then peeked an eye open and offered a quiet, surprised little smile and Wade grinned right back, baring his fangs and rumbling in satisfaction.“Good morning, Omega.”

“Good morning.” Still loopy from his nap, Peter turned his head a little to press their cheeks together and Wade’s rumble grew even louder. “Did you get us a deer?”

Us.

“Not this morning, but I’ll go back out later in the afternoon.” Wade crouched in front of the seat so they were at eye level, giving in to the urge to slip his fingers into Peter’s hair and tug gently at the strands. “How are you?”

“Washing clothes is hard.” Peter stated and the Alpha chuckled softly. “Remember how I said I might go vegan so I’m not taking things from animals? I might go nudist just so I don’t have to wash clothes anymore.”

“I feel like I wouldn’t object to that.” Wade closed a calloused palm around Peter’s slim ankle, thoroughly enjoying the full body shiver from the Omega, and the way Peter’s honeysuckle and lavender scent tinged hazy with anticipation. “But I only stopped long enough to milk the goat so she’d stop yelling at me. I still need to take care of Bea and work around the cabin a bit before taking off hunting again and--”

“--and me parading around naked might be a little distracting?” Peter finished with a nearly devious scrunch of his nose. “Hm?”

“A little distracting.” The Alpha allowed. “But you sure could sit outside in the sunshine and show off these legs all day long. Come on out with me.”

“You want me to come outside and show off my legs while you work?” Peter raised an eyebrow faux suspiciously, fighting to keep a smile away. It was so easy to flirt with Wade, so easy to get the Alpha’s eyes sparking as they teased. “And here I thought you said I couldn’t survive by just being pretty anymore.”

“You keep wandering around in my shirt like this, and being pretty will get you just about anything you want.” Wade’s voice dropped, the words rough and just that quickly the moment slid from teasing to tense, their easy banter suddenly edging the line of much more, Wade’s hand at Peter’s ankle less casual and more claiming as he drew purposeful circles over the delicate bones. “You look good like this Pete. Look good in my clothes.”

“...yeah?” Peter could hardly breathe through the tension in the air as the Alpha’s licorice and cedar scent rolled with arousal. “You like how I look?”

“Mmmm.” Wade’s sigh was more of a growl, vibrating through his chest and clear into Peter’s body and Peter had the sudden hysterical thought that this was exactly the sort of scenario Omega’s got themselves into between the pages of his cheesy romance novels.

It was always a platonic situation turned blatantly sexual, an innocent moment flush with unneeded innuendo, the Alpha almost aggressively turned on and the Omega reacting with a rush of arousal Peter had always chalked up to fanciful writing and authors with no idea how sex and attraction actually worked.

But here he was anyway, pressing his knees together as if it would stop slick from trickling down his thighs, biting at the inside of his cheek until it tore so he wouldn’t whine. He was torn between staring at the Alpha’s tongue running greedily over hooked fangs-- and staring at Wade’s trousers pulling tight over his thighs and doing nothing to disguise the swell of the Alpha’s cock beneath the fabric.

Oh oh oh.

Wade inhaled, rolled his shoulders and flexed his fingers where they lay on Peter’s body and then-- even though the hazel eyes had long past charged red and hungry-- then Wade stood up and moved away.

“N-no--” Peter clapped a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t ask Wade to come back, fixed his eyes on a spot on the floor so he wouldn’t watch as Wade grimaced and adjusted himself.

“Take your time--” Wade had to clear his throat at least twice to smooth the snarl from the words. “Take your time getting dressed, come outside whenever you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay.” Peter covered his face with both hands and sank deeper into the chair, both ready and willing to fall through a hole in the floor and just disappear if it would save him from the embarrassment of--

“Beauty.” Wade leaned over the chair and whispered into Peter’s ear, his hand steady and warm at Peter’s back. “Gorgeous Omega. Don’t ever stop wearing my clothes.”

Peter peeked up through his fingers and Wade dropped a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Come outside whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll-- I’ll be right there.” An unsteady breath and then too quiet for Wade to hear, “...Alpha.”

**************

Wade laughed for a full five minutes when Peter came outside wearing the brightly striped bottoms and even though the Omega huffed over the noise, he was secretly glad his plan had worked.

The moment in the cabin had been real enough to be frightening, and Peter honestly didn’t know if he could walk outside and handle a repeate scene. Thankfully, Mary Jane’s leggings sported both migraine inducing stripes and retina burning colors and there was simply no way for Wade to think they were even the least bit sexy.

Wade was still laughing when Peter walked over to help brush Arthur, and the Alpha laughed even harder when the gelding reared back in alarm and swung his big butt around to face Peter.

“Stop that.” Peter swatted Arthur’s tail away. “They aren’t that ugly.”

“Oh baby boy.” Wade leaned into Bea’s side and gave him a once over. “Those are definitely that ugly. Is that what people where in your time? Stripes and terrible colors?”

“I’d wear just about anything, so long as they are this comfortable.” Peter said primly. “Besides, I just washed all my jeans. These are already worn out so it’s not a big deal if they get stained. I’ll just throw them away.”

“When we get to town, I’ll get you some real clothes.” Wade finally ceased his chuckling and went back to grooming the mare. “Heavier work clothes so your other ones don’t wear out.”

“...you’re going to buy me clothes?” Peter should absolutely want to object to that. Alphas who paid for their Omega’s clothes usually felt as if they deserved a say in what the Omega wore and that was unacceptable. “Really?”

“I’d let you buy them, but you don’t have any money.” Wade pointed out, and for about the hundredth time since arriving in Wade’s life, Peter felt foolish for assuming the Alpha was anything like the stereotypes he knew back home. “Or if you do have money, it isn’t from my time, right?”

“Right.” Peter thought about the wallet full of cards in the bottom of his pack. “Uh, yeah. I guess that’s true. But I don’t want you to spend all your money on me.”

“It won’t take all my money to buy you some clothes, Pete.” Wade assured him. “But even if we do spend it all, I’ll put the rest on credit and when I run trap lines this winter I’ll pay it off. Not a big deal.”

“What if you don’t sell enough…” Peter hesitated. “...fur? Is that what trap lines mean? What if you don’t get enough fur to pay off the bill?”

“Then I try extra hard next year.” Wade sent him a strange look. “Why the questions, Pete? It’s not like we won’t be able to get our supplies. Mr. Lee would never deny anyone what they needed, what sort of person would refuse to give someone else food or clothing just cos they couldn’t afford it at the moment?”

“Boy howdy, would you hate my timeline.” Peter said dryly. “People go without food, shelter and medicine because they can’t afford it.”

“That ain’t right.”

“As someone whose literally had to scrounge for pennies to buy groceries in the past?” the Omega nodded. “It definitely isn’t right.”

They finished the majority of the chores in comfortable silence. Too bright leggings or not, the moment from before still simmered between them as the late morning spilled into afternoon and more than once Wade caught himself stopping to just stare when his shirt slipped off of Peter’s shoulder, or the Omega bent to get something and those damnable bottoms hugged his legs.

By the time Wade was ready to try hunting again, the need to get Peter back in his arms was proving impossible to ignore, sizzling in the Alpha’s veins and running under his skin until he felt nearly electric.

Omega.

Mine.

But Peter was still acting gun shy about earlier, ducking his head if he caught Wade looking, an acidic edge of uncertainty undermining lavender if they brushed too close. Not rejection, just uncertainty, and Wade didn’t let himself be discouraged by it.

After all, there had been nothing but acceptance and want in the Omega’s scent when they’d been together, a surge of lust in Peter’s dark eyes that had about bowled Wade right over, and as he’d left to go outside the Omega had whispered ‘Alpha’ in a soft, secret tone that left Wade breathless.

No, he wasn’t discouraged at all. Peter knew him and he knew Peter and they were meant to be-- differing timelines or not.

He could wait.

***************

{{Author’s Note: For anyone that cares, elk have been considered technically extinct in upstate New York since 1877 so they would be very difficult to Wade to find. White tail deer are plentiful, but tiny. Example: an average bull elk can yield 200 pounds of meat, the average white tail, only about 50}}

The two weeks Wade had spent taking care of Peter had pushed him right past prime hunting season and into leaner hunting times and every day the Alpha couldn’t get a bead on a decent sized animal or even a couple smaller animals, the more worried Wade became.

Early morning and late afternoon hunts changed to all day hunting as a few days passed and Wade hadn’t seen hide nor hair of anything decent, and the need to bring home extra this year to also provide for Pete had the Alpha out in the woods from before sunup to past sundown.

Peter spent the time alone mostly trying to do chores so Wade wouldn’t have as much to do when he finally made it home. It still took Peter close to fifteen minutes to coax the goat close and tether her up to be milked, and even though he was recently discovering a new found fear of rickety ladders and high lofts, he still climbed up every day to shovel down fresh hay into the stalls.

Dealing with Arthur was easy at least, and Peter lingered over grooming the gelding and familiarizing himself with the different gear and how to take care of bridles and saddles.

In the late afternoons before evening chores, Peter sat in the cabin and tried to organize all the notes he’d taken so far or sat and flipped through the book from Gwen until he got bored and tossed it away.

The romance suddenly felt much less interesting than it had only a few weeks prior. Peter skimmed through most of the conversations and rolled his eyes at the stilted interactions, skipped the sex scenes entirely because reading dirty things about fanged, mountain men Alphas while he had a real fanged mountain man Alpha sleeping only a few feet away from him every night...

.... well it just seemed weird.

Peter gave up on the book after a few days and busied himself with sweeping the cabin floors, boiling water to sanitize some of the older looking dishes, making up his bed every morning and taking the time to fold the blankets Wade slept on. Johnny would laugh until he threw up if he knew Peter was willingly keeping house for an Alpha, but Peter didn’t feel so much like he was ‘keeping house’ for Wade as he felt like he was keeping their cabin clean.

Wade came in from hunting to a clean space, at least an attempt at dinner even if it wasn’t much more than slightly burned meat and beans-- the Alpha kept a very sparse pantry-- and being able to help Wade in at least a tiny way settled a quiet part of Peter’s soul that was driven to take care of his the Alpha.

It was a simple sort of life and as Peter spent more and more time outside in the late autumn sunshine and let freckles dot across his nose, he couldn’t find a single thing to complain about.

...Except how hard it was to wash clothes, that is.

He would forever complain about that.

**************

The good weather and low stress days couldn’t last forever of course, and the afternoon Wade finally managed to bag an elk, clouds began building black and ominous on the horizon, spilling over the high peaks and pouring down the mountain side.

By the time Wade finished field dressing the animal and packed the heavy pieces onto Bea’s back so he could take them home, a fine mist of rain had turned into a near deluge and he had to walk alongside the mare on the slippery trail so she wouldn’t lose her footing and send both of them down the mountain slope.

Lightning split the sky as they came into the clearing, the bolt highlighting the barn and the cabin and Wade’s heart squeezed in affection when he saw Peter huddled in the open doorway of the cabin, peering out into the storm and clearly waiting for him to return.

“I’m here!” he called, and whistled for good measure. “Get inside! I’ll be right in!”

“Let me help!” Peter buttoned up one of Wade’s extra jackets and darted out into the rain, thoroughly soaking his sneakers as he skidded across the muddy clearing. “I can help with Bea, you do something else.”

Peter clicked and trilled and coaxed the big mare into her stall, carefully undid the bit and bridle and nearly fell under the weight of her saddle, then wiped her dry with a soft rag all with in several minutes. Taking care of the horses was so much fun he didn’t even mind the work, and since both Bea and Arthur were gentle as could be, he wasn’t even nervous around the big hooves and blunt teeth.

“There you are, pretty girl. do you need to eat?” Bea nickered at him and Peter patted at her nose with a smile. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”

Wade overheard the myriad of comments and only shook his head in amusement as he got to work hanging the bigger pieces of meat down in the outside cellar, piling the smaller pieces on rudimentary shelves in the always chilly underground storage. Usually he would salt most of it and pack it tight, but he was worn out from long days hunting and with the storm coming in he didn’t have the time to try and cut the meat down into smaller, more manageable portions.

It would have to hang here until the storm blew out which was alright anyway. The longer the meat hung, the more tender it would be, and while Wade wasn’t picky about what he ate, Peter would enjoy more edible pieces for the little bit of meat he managed to eat every day.

“Was it a buck?” Peter wanted to know when Wade came up from the cellar. “The deer I mean. A buck?”

Wade sealed the cellar door behind him and moved his heavy splitting bench on top to dissuade any animal visitors who might have caught the scent of fresh game. “I got us a bull, Pete. Bucks are deer, bulls are elk. Cow elk are usually pregnant this time of year and it’s gotten so hard to find the herds anyway, I didn’t want to risk shooting anything that could be expecting. Gotta keep the population up somehow.”

“But the bull--”

“It’s after rut, so if this guy was gonna contribute to the survival of the species, he already got it out of his system.” Wade winked when Peter made a icked out noise. “Come on. No reason to be standing out here, back to the cabin.”

They ran for the relative dryness of the cabin together, Wade holding his coat up and over their heads as they went and pushing Peter through the door first so he could bar it behind them.

The soaked jacket was tossed over the peg closest to the fire to dry, then Wade crowded close to the flames too, chasing away the chill of several hours in the rain.

“Did I do okay with the fire?” Peter asked almost immediately, eyes darting purposefully towards the full box of kindling and the stack of logs piled close by. “Chopping kindling is about a thousand times more difficult than I thought it would be.”

“Did you cut yourself on the hatchet?” Wade tugged out of his long sleeve and spread it over the mantle, then stripped out of his undershirt as well and started working on his belt. “I keep it real sharp.”

“Real… sharp.” Peter’s gaze changed direction rather abruptly as he zeroed in on the play of Wade’s abdomen as the Alpha bent to yank at the ties of his boots, then straightened to put them on the mantle next to his clothes on the heated rock. “...yep.”

“Pete?”

“Yep.” Peter snapped back to attention, ignoring the smirk on Wade’s face. “I mean nope. No, I didn’t cut myself. No.”

“Well you did a good job.” The kindling pieces were jagged and uneven, some nothing more than splinters and others still practically logs but Peter had tried and it was both heart warming and adorable, so Wade flashed his fangs in a reassuring smile and repeated, “You did a good job, Omega. Thank you.”

“I didn’t want you to have to do as much work when you got home.” Peter muttered, toeing at the floor self consciously. He knew his kindling pile was absolutely terrible, but he did feel proud that Wade had one less chore to do after hunting the last several days. “And I dunno how much wood it takes to last through the night, but I carried it in until my arms hurt so…” he shrugged. “Hopefully that’s enough.”

“I can always run and get more from the shed. Pete, how’d you start the fire?” The Alpha glanced around the room. “Did you find the matches? I took my flint with me.”

“....it didn’t occur to me to look for matches.” Peter admitted, pulling a lighter out of his pocket. “I had a lighter in my back pack, so I used that.”

“Oh I see.” Wade’s eyes widened a little when Peter clicked the lighter and a flame burst into existence. “Oh. So you just used your future time magic to start the fire, huh?”

“Is that what we’re calling that?” Peter’s chest swelled with pride when the Alpha made an impressed noise. “Future time magic? Don’t you guys have lighters?”

“There’s a couple idiots out there who convert their old pistols to strike and light like that.” Wade motioned for Peter’s lighter and turned it over in his hands. “I prefer starting fires in ways that won’t blow up in my face.”

"That’s fair.” Peter acknowledged, and Wade flashed another one of those fangy smiles his direction. “Um, are you hungry? I realize I’m a terrible cook but--”

“I ate out on the trail.” Wade clicked the lighter on and off a few times. “I was always taught to say a prayer over any animal that gives it’s life so we can survive another winter, so I thanked our animal and then built a little fire to cook up some of the meat. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” A little relieved that he wouldn’t have to ruin dinner tonight, Peter backpedaled until he could fall into the chair, and tucked his knees up to his chest. Wade was still shirtless, damp trousers clinging to powerful thighs and Peter just let himself look for a long time, cataloging the myriad of scars cutting across heavy muscles and admiring the breadth of the Alpha’s shoulders.

Wade was completely opposite of everything Peter had ever found even passably attractive in an Alpha before. Harry was good looking but his carefully gelled curls and smooth skin suddenly seemed so plain compared to the patchwork of stories told by Wade’s scars. And Johnny was hilarious and fit, but his shoulders weren’t near as broad as Wade’s, his arms not half as thick. And Gwen-- well it didn’t seem right to compare a female Alpha to a male Alpha, but there had been a time when Peter thought Gwen had the prettiest smile he had ever seen-- and now that he’d seen hooked fangs glinting in firelight as Wade laughed, well even Gwen paled in comparison.

But Peter also knew it wasn’t just the physical appeal that drew him to Wade. If he’d come across an over large Alpha with wicked fangs and a tendency to growl at home, Peter would have turned on his heel and walked the other but now?

Oh now he wanted to just sit back and listen to the pitch of Wade’s voice and feel the carefully restrained strength in those arms and lay against a too solid chest and feel their hearts beating together.

It was more than physical appeal, it was more than circumstances, and more than some sort of side effect of the time travel. It was more than--

--Peter didn’t realize his eyes had closed until suddenly they were wide open, his breath stuttering as Wade’s scent weighted dense with interest.

“W-Wade?” he croaked, clutching at the blankets when he saw the Alpha’s eyes shadowing red. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Wade rumbled. “Nothing’s wrong, you smell good, Omega. What are you thinking about?”

“Oh. Oh my god.” Peter’s face burned in embarrassment. “I um-- sometimes I forget you can scent me, I forget you can read my scent so well. Back home we wear suppressants so no one’s emotions can affect anyone else. Scent blockers and all that.”

Wade’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t look away, nostrils flaring as he tried to catch even more of the lavender and honeysuckle scent. “You said that before. Sounds awful, having one of your senses taken away like that. How do you know if you’re mates if you can’t scent each other?”

“Scent matches aren’t really a real thing anymore.” Peter explained haltingly. “We uh-- you know, just spend time together and fall in love, get married and bond. Or just spend time together and maybe we don’t fall in love but we still share heats. No-- no scent matching needed. Or if we get married, our scents end up matching because we’re in love, we don’t fall in love because our scents match.”

“Seems like a backwards way to do it.” Wade passed by on his way to his dresser and Peter kept his eyes firmly on the fireplace while the Alpha changed into a pair of sleep pants. “Wouldn’t it be easier to match scent with someone first? Everything else works out after that. Scent match means your souls match, why wouldn’t people want it?”

“I guess people want the chance to pick their own soul mates.” For the first time in his life and despite his past objections to everything related to bonding, Peter suddenly thought the idea sounded absolutely stupid.

Who wouldn’t want a soul mate?

“Besides.” He made a vague gesture, not even half convinced of his own argument. “What if they never find the person they are scent matched to? What if they live in California and their soul mate lives all the way across the world and they’ll never meet? Falling in love on your own means you can choose whether or not to be alone, not be left alone because the universe assigned you a mate you have no chance of ever knowing.”

“I don’t think it’s like that.” Wade poured two drinks and came back to the fire, pressing one into Peter’s hand. “Soul mates find each other no matter what. Distance has got nothing to do with it.”

“Right.” Peter swallowed. “Distance--” and time. “--has nothing to do with it.”

Wade sat down at the foot of Peter’s chair, tipping his head back onto the arm rest and staring into the flames as he sipped at his moonshine and changed the subject. “Get you some wine or something when we’re in Haven, huh? Then you won’t have to drink water and milk like a damn toddler all the time.”

“A toddler.” Peter cracked a smile. “Yeah, that’d be nice.” Then he tightened his fingers around the cup of water and asked, “Um, Wade?”

The Alpha raised his eyebrows, the upside down expression almost comical. “What’s up, Pete?”

“Um--”

Words weren’t going to work since it was all but impossible to form sentences when Wade was looking at him, and even if Peter could put together a sentence, he didn’t know where to find the words to possibly explain his acceptance of the pull at his soul and the way he craved-- no, yearned-- no, needed to be with the Alpha.

There weren’t any words and it was so frustrating--

“Wade--I um--”

“Pete.” Peter jumped a little when Wade turned around to face him, the Alpha up on his knees and looming into Peter’s space. “Hey hey, come here, c’mere.”

Peter set his cup aside and leaned into the calloused hand at his cheek, lay his head back when Wade’s fingers slid around to tug through his hair before settling at the curve of his neck. Foreheads touching, noses bumping and Peter whined softly so softly in response to the Alpha’s rumble, didn’t hesitate to sway closer when Wade coaxed him forward and when he could fit his nose to Wade’s collarbone and open mouth inhale the Alpha’s scent, Peter couldn’t stop his relieved purr.

“I know what you’re trying to say.” Wade muttered, other arm winding around Peter’s waist and holding him steady. “Don’t need words, baby boy. Not when it’s like this, you know?”

“I’m… I’m starting to figure that out.” Peter whispered back, fingers trembling where they lay over the Alpha’s heart. “This is amazing, I never thought--I mean I heard stories but I didn’t know it was like-- like this.”

“It’s what it’s supposed to feel like, Omega.” Wade moved tighter between Peter’s open knees. “Can only get better from here, you know?”

“I-- I--”

I’m not ready for more.

The thought slammed into Peter’s mind and made him recoil, and the Alpha’s grip tightened when he tried to jerk away.

“Easy, easy.” Wade hushed him, sweeping his thumb over Peter’s jawline. “What happened, what’s the matter?”

“Oh god.” Peter shook his head, or tried to at least, the words coming unsteady and too fast as every inch of him locked up in a panic. “I’m not ready for more than this. And--and I know you. I know you and that’s amazing but I know being scent matched means we’re supposed to mate and everything and holy shit I don’t think I’ve ever wanted an Alpha the way I want you but I’m not ready--”

“Hush.” Wade held him even tighter. “Pete, Pete stop for a minute and just listen. Just listen.”

“Listen?” Peter didn’t understand, but he went along obediently when Wade coaxed him in, took a shaky breath and forced himself to focus only on what he could feel from the Alpha.

Anxiety and uncertainty. Excitement and surprise. Mate and mine. Heartbreak and hurt and hesitation.

“Oh.” Peter swallowed. “You um-- you too?”

“Me too, sweetheart.” Wade’s scent didn’t change from steady and comforting, lightly possessive and over whelmingly protective. The lust and heat that had flared so quickly the last time they’d found themselves in this position was banked now beneath a syrupy slow wash of affection, simmering but not important and once Peter relaxed enough to read everything the Alpha was saying, he was stunned by just how much he suddenly knew.

Wade wasn’t ready for more either.

“Wade?” he asked carefully. “You too?”

“Losing my first mate was real difficult.” Wade said slowly. “And I never thought I’d get another chance at this, Pete. Figured scent matches and mates come along once a lifetime, you know? But then you dropped outta no where and changed everything. This is real scary for me, Omega. Feels like I’ve had you forever when really I don’t have you at all. I could lose you any minute and I keep thinking I should ignore our bond and save myself the heartbreak but every time I try to do that, you go and do something ridiculous and I fall for you a little more.”

Wow.

“I’m not saying I’m not tempted to throw you over my shoulder and claim you cave man style.” Wade continued and Peter bit back a laugh. “But I gotta be honest, I dunno if my heart is ready to take that step. Body sure is, but if I get Wade Junior--” another half snorted laugh. “-- to settle down long enough for actual thoughts, I don’t think I’m ready.”

It was an unexpected confession from the Alpha, unexpected and so heartbreakingly honest that Peter started purring again, trilling gently in an attempt to erase the vulnerable in Wade’s eyes.

“That’s why I pulled away from you the other day.” Wade admitted. “Seeing you cozy in my clothes about killed me, but I’m not ready for that yet. I need you just like this and maybe-- maybe a little more but you know, maybe not. I dunno, Pete. Don’t really know anything beyond knowing right here--” he tilted Peter’s jaw up and stared down into those dark eyes. “Right here is where I want to be. And maybe we have time for more and maybe we don’t but I-- I can’t rush this Pete. I’m not ready.”

“You uh-- you say we don’t need words, but that was a whole lotta words.” Peter coaxed the words past the ball of emotion closing up his throat. “You’re way better at this than I am.”

“I’ve been hunting a lot lately.” Wade returned dryly. “Lots of time for self reflection and to work through what I want to say so I don’t sound stupid when I finally open my mouth.”

“Okay. Well for the record.” Peter mouthed a featherlight kiss to Wade’s pulse and hummed quietly when the Alpha grasped at his side. “Right here is where I want to be too. One day I’ll be ready for more but I dunno when that will be.”

“Yeah.” Wade’s lips swept soft over Peter’s cheek and up into his hair. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“And by the way?” Peter tipped his chin up until their mouths nearly met, no more than a breath away from the edge of Wade’s fangs. “I definitely fall for you a little more every time you’re ridiculous, too. Which is a lot. All the time.”

“Perfect.” Wade’s laugh shook through his shoulders as he gathered Peter into a hug. “You’re perfect, Omega.”

Peter’s body flashed with heat when Wade’s hand dropped to his hips and then down along the curve of his rear for only a split second before settling at his thigh, but the Alpha soothed him with a sweet croon of, “This is enough, Pete. This right here.”

“Cos we don’t need words.” the Omega murmured, and Wade shifted closer, nodded against him. “That’s right, beauty. We don’t need words.”

And after another gorgeous moment together, another moment of breathing each other in, another moment with the Alpha’s heavy frame wedged between the Omega’s slim thighs so they could hold tight, Peter asked very very quietly, “Will you call me that again?”

“Call you what?” Wade nuzzled at the delicate curl of Peter’s earlobe, pressed his lips to the tender spot at the hinge of the Omega’s jaw. “What did I call you?”

“Baby boy?” Peter tinged pink and the Alpha almost melted. “You called me that earlier today and again just now and I-- I like it. Will you call me that again?”

“Baby boy.” The tip of Wade’s fangs peeked out when he smiled and Peter had the sudden, totally irrational thought to lean forward and lick the sharp points. “I’ll call you that whenever you like, Pete. Anytime at all.”

“Okay.” Peter’s blush got a little darker. “Thank you.”

This time the Alpha growled, “Baby boy.” and Peter’s head snapped back, his mouth falling open in a pant as his thighs involuntarily clenched, holding the Alpha captive between his knees.

Oh god.

Oh god, yes please.

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DON’T FORGET TO COMMENT! Feedback fuels the writers soul and I love to know what you guys think! Plus, this chapter is 1000% swoonworthy.

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@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @lookuplaughing @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @water-colouredmemories @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @desitonystark @ricecakeandhoney @ardatlily @fawnandgays @bluedreamdino @bibbarnes @blackstar1602 @hi-inevitable-im-deadpool @scientifically-lesbian-jesus @the-pagely-gun-slinger @oshuncheyenne @the-dragonwolf-den @pumpkin-spidey @sozvuchiy @cappunico @tired-dragons01 @chiby-chan @ahumoki0 @tulipsnbigcats @kanizsacollage

#ncts fics #spideypool #peter parker #wade wilson #abo dynamics #alpha wade wilson #omega peter parker #soulmates

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one-leaf-grimoire · 4 years

Text

“illusion” ch 8

Link to the full work

Warnings: none :) Except Julius being cute and charming as usual.

Julius freezes on the spot, but it's mostly just from surprise. I mean, he has a right to be surprised... until a couple weeks ago, I barely talked to him, and now here I am, crying into his arms. He doesn't know that he's the only anchor I have right now, the only thing that could possibly protect me and keep me safe. Alice wasn't enough... at the bar, I still got hurt. But Julius... he was the one who found me. There's no way he knows any of that, but even so he relaxes a moment later, one hand still squeezing my shoulder while the other pats my head gently, not presuming to touch to much, but just enough that I know he's there.

Maybe I should feel embarrassed to cry in front of him, but I don't.

"It's alright... it's better to let it out than to keep it all bottled up inside, you know."

"...I know..." I sniffle a little as I finally straighten up again, letting myself stay close to him. Close... ah!!! We're so close right now!! I feel my ears heat up, but that's not what I want to think about right now. "I...um..." I'm not exactly sure where to begin. "I have something I need to tell you... It might be a lot, though..."

"That's fine." Julius gulps, obviously a little worried about what I'm about to tell him. "Er, let's sit down?"

The awkwardness still hangs in the air, but it starts to thin. I quickly nod and let go of him, not really realizing how tight my hands on his shirt were until I released him. Calm down... everything is fine, at least for now. I let myself take one deep, soothing breath before sinking down onto his couch. Julius's room is just a little bigger than mine, but since he is a leader, he gets it all to himself. There's really only a fireplace, couch, desk, a couple of dressers, and his bed, which is queen sized rather than a twin like everyone else's. I'm sure the Captain has a king sized bed, but I've never been in there. It's warm, and welcoming... cozy, actually. Exactly what I need.

But now, I have a new challenge: How on earth do I explain this whole crazy situation to Julius without sounding so paranoid? I can barely even bring myself to look at him as he sits down next to me, only sparing a brief glance. But I have to... right now, he's the only one who I can trust. Not even Alice...

"So... I guess I'll start at the beginning."

I look away from his concerned eyes, taking one more deep breath before closing my eyes. A simple gesture, but one that melts away my anticipation, if just for a moment.

Above all else... be clear. Don't sound emotional.

"On New Years night, a couple hours after I left you outside, I woke up in the mess hall alone. I cleaned up and took some extra wine bottles into the cellar. However, on my way down, someone ambushed me and pushed me down the stairs. A second person closed the door, leaving me blind and defenseless. The first person, a man, hit and choked me until I was unconscious, while the other stood there and watched. Before I passed out, I felt their clothes, and I'm almost certain they were wearing a Grey Deer cloak. That was all they did, and I woke up alone."

It all comes out slowly but surely, my voice calm and level. I willed myself to keep my emotions at bay, and I've succeeded. But there's a little more.

"Then, last night, weeks later, when I thought the danger might be gone... someone drugged my drink. I checked the bar tab, I only drank one drink, not enough to get me drunk. When I realized what was happening, I ran and hid before anyone could hurt me. Luckily, you were the one who found me. But-" I sit up a bit. Somehow, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my chest. Confessing all this is... refreshing. It makes more sense once I say it all out loud.

"But, it confirmed what I feared was true. Someone, at least two people on this squad, tried to attack me twice, in different ways. I have no idea why, or what they want... but I couldn't stay in my room alone tonight, which is why I'm here."

....

I finally look up to gauge Julius's reaction. His eyes have widened considerably over the course of my story, and I can see that he's still processing it all. "I'm sorry... you probably didn't expect this kind of story when you let me in..." I almost let out a little chuckle at the absurdity of it all, but a small bubble of sadness wells in my chest. "But... you're the only person I can trust, right now."

"...you were attacked... twice... by a squad member..."

His voice stays soft, but I pick up on a tiny spark of emotion in his words.

...anger? At me-?

"That's terrible... unforgivable..."

Okay, so not at me. Julius leans forward on his knees, his fingers threading together. It's almost scary, the way his eyes have shifted now. He's no longer processing my story; he's calculating. Desperately trying to come up with an answer for the question who could have done this? Suddenly, his eyes lighten a little and he straightens up to look at me again, softness returning to his gaze. "And... because I found you last night, I'm the one you can trust to tell this two?"

I nod, but there's more. "Not just that... on New Years, Alice came home late and said she saw you outside still. If you didn't come in at all that night, you couldn't have been one of the people attacking me."

"Right, I see... that's smart. You can't trust Alice?"

"I thought I could... but she was with me last night, and I still got drugged. She might have been involved."

Alice...

My oldest friend... the one who's helped me through my darkest times. If she's involved in this somehow, then I've lost everything I had-

"Hey."

My despair is halted by a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I feel Julius smiling down at me once again.

"Thank you for telling me... I can't believe you've been shouldering this yourself. No one's that strong. To be betrayed by your own comrades..." He shakes his head a little, and I see the anger flash in his vision again, making my heart skip a fearful beat. Not just anger though... familiarity? Has this happened before?

"I won't let anyone hurt you here, don't worry. I assume this is why you've been staying close to me all the time, right?"

"O-Oh, yeah-" I actually manage to laugh this time, although it's a little nervous. "I, um... I'm sorry, I didn't want to annoy you or anything, but I didn't really have much of a choice."

"It's fine." Julius chuckles as well, patting my shoulder before letting go. "I was a little dumb, though... I thought it was because- well-"

The waver in his voice takes me by surprise, but not as much as the blush that suddenly blossoms on his cheeks.

"I thought... you might have gotten a crush on me or something, ahah-"

A... crush?

"Oh! Uh- I- er-" I feel bad that he looks so awkward right now, which is not a look I'm used to seeing on my distinguished Vice-Captain's face. "I can definitely see how you would think that, I was being a little clingy, wasn't I?" I laugh a little, hoping to put him at ease. "Sorry about that-"

"Sorry? Oh, no, don't be. I..." Julius's voice trails off without warning, but he starts talking about it before I have time to consider what the momentary lapse could mean. "I didn't think you were clingy. After all, I poked holes in my own theory soon enough. I realized that something was wrong, even if it was just in my gut..." He points at his own neck. "Those bruises you had on your neck that morning, you couldn't have gotten them from just falling down the stairs, could you?"

"No... you noticed that?"

"Of course. It's my job to take care of my squadmates, isn't it?"

"...right."

His hand suddenly lands on my shoulder again, squeezing once comfortingly. His fingers don't relax completely.

"I promise... I'll help you figure out who did this, and they'll be severely punished. I won't leave you alone again."

I don't understand...

"Thank you, Julius."

... how one man can be so... warm?

"Now, I guess you'll have to stay in here tonight, isn't Alice on an overnight mission?"

It takes a moment for his question to sink in. Oh! I completely forgot about that part... but I have to stay in here? In his room?! Sleeping?! It takes everything I have to keep from turning red again. "...yeah, if that's okay. I-I can sleep on the couch, if you have a pillow and blanket to spare-"

Julius cuts me off with a laugh. "No, no, what kind of host would I be if I made you sleep on the couch? You can take the bed, you've had a long night. I'll sleep here."

"Alright... thank you."

On the inside, I'm screaming. A.) I have to sleep in JULIUS'S bed (alone, but still-), B.) that means I'm forcing HIM to sleep on a couch (which I feel pretty bad about), and C.)...

Eek! I have to sleep in his bed...

Julius hums to himself cheerfully as he starts gathering a blanket and pillows for his makeshift bed. I just stand there awkwardly, not really sure what to do. My eyes follow him as he finally sits back on the couch, wrapped up in his blanket. His eyes catch mine. "Oh, I guess you don't have to go to bed now... uh-" He smiles and holds up his book. "Want to read with me? It's a history of mana development over the ages, it's quite fascinating!"

Hmm, I don't know about that... Despite the seemingly boring content, I nod my head and sit back down next to him, my posture a little stiff as he opens the book so we can both see it. I don't want to lean too close to him, because what if our knees brush? Or our shoulders press together? I think I would die... I've created a weird enough situation as it is, and Julius already thought I had a crush on him before. How embarrassing! It's too early for anything with him, anyway...

I had a crush on him when I first joined the squad, like most of the girls here. How could I not? Luckily, it faded quickly, overshadowed by my pressing engagement. Of course, feeling never truly go away, do they? Elia is proof of that, her early crush still clinging to her heart to this day. Even for me... I can't help but dream. Maybe one day... once all this is over... I can make a move. If I were to date anyone other than Lawrence, it would be Julius, after all...

But I can't think about it right now!! Not with everything happening to me right now. I need to focus on my two current crises before creating a new one for myself.

To my surprise, Julius's book is actually pretty interesting, but despite that, I start to get real drowsy. I can last a few more pages, right? Julius glances down at me, and I nod, prompting him to go ahead and turn the page. This is nice... I don't really want to stand up.

So, I don't. Inevitably, my eyelids close and my head falls straight onto his shoulder. I don't even have time to be mortified; I'm too tired, and his shoulder is just too comfortable.

...oh well. I can deal with the consequences later.

Julius doesn't seem to mind. He even relaxes a little as I doze off. He doesn't make a move to touch me or anything, but he slowly closes his book. My eyes are closed and my mind is far away, so I don't see his expression change. His smile falls, and a dark look comes into his eyes as he stares down at my peaceful face.

Something terrible is going on... in my squad. She isn't a peasant like Zara was, but someone's put a target on her back, anyway.

The movement is quick, and almost absent-minded. But his hand comes up, resting in my hair for just a moment.

I won't let it happen again... I promise.

#black clover #fic #illusion #julius novachrono x reader #julius novachrono

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strwbrymlkshake · 2 years

Text

why am I crying over him he has an anime pfp –_–

#mine #bruh #i made a robert downey jr traumacore meme this is how low i am rn you see this shit applejack #laying miserably suffering i hate it here considered taking more pills than usual tbh<3 #suicide tw #i guess bc of that last tag but anyways the thread i am hanging on is quite thin #(robert downey jr meme) He Is Not Responding To My Messages #why why why why why i want it to all be over already <3 im just being toyed with #pov i am having a mental breakdown again #why cant there be someone who actually cares. never met a man genuinely concerned about me innmy life #im so sick of everything my body is so shitty i dont do anything i cant even get my essential things done #i am so so so so so sick of my emotional state depending on A Man. fr #I HATE IT SO SO SO SO SO MUCH WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WONT IT END WHY CANT I STOP CARING

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chrysalispen · 4 years

Text

xxvi. like a friend, with whom their love is done;

AO3 link is HERE

fic under the cut

== The return to the village was a quiet one, Hugh sulking as he was all but dragged along with Aurelia’s hand braced against his shoulder in such a way that he knew escape was impossible. To be a twelve-year-old again, she thought distantly, with naught to bring care for summer days except whether or not one was allowed in a swimming-hole.

The Millers’ small home was just as she’d left it not two bells past, now with a small army of chickens clucking and milling about the pathway to the front porch. They squawked and flapped as she and Keveh’to shooed them away, and swarmed the small yard for more feed as Hugh opened the door to let the three of them inside.

“Mum!” he called. “I’ve brought Miss Aurelia and the Sergeant!”

“Come in, everyone,” Frieda called cheerfully, and Aurelia let out an internal sigh; she was sure her orders had been quite disregarded the moment Vahne arrived on the woman’s doorstep. “Our new little friend is in here with me. Come have tea with us.”

Sure enough, when they entered the big room of the house, Aurelia saw Vahne sitting in a small chair with her hands clasped anxiously in her lap, looking visibly pale and distraught. Her oak-brown tail slapped the leg of the low table, skinny body tense, and her large ears flickering wildly at every stray sound. The lady of the house was not only not in her bed, she was waddling her way over to the fireplace to retrieve a tea kettle filled with boiling water.

Aurelia scowled at her. “For heaven's sake, Frieda! We just talked about this-”

“Oh, enough of your clucking, you great mother hen! I’ll not have a child sitting in here unattended while I lay about doing nothing. A spare few minutes to make some tea won’t harm me nor the babe.”

The Garlean’s eyes narrowed.

“You do not get to be on your feet unless it’s an emergency, and tea does not constitute an emergency,” she said. “Hugh is well old enough to pour some tea without your assistance.”

“Aurelia-”

“It isn’t a request. Hugh, pray take the pot from your mother so she can rest.”

With a great and melodramatic sigh, the ginger-haired Midlander all but threw herself onto the couch next to her two youngest sons, Bran and Geoffrey. The two boys, six and four summers respectively, took almost no notice of their mother’s foul mood. They were wholly preoccupied with their strange visitor, and in watching every movement she made with open and wide-eyed curiosity- that in itself was hardly a surprise, Aurelia thought, as Miqo’te were few and far between outside the city. Meeting children close to their own ages was likely something of a novelty.

Their gaping had been soundly rebuffed, however. Vahne was either making a valiant attempt to ignore them or - like a cat - simply had not deigned to notice their interest.

“Mama,” Bran piped up hopefully, not taking his eyes off her, “since there’s a guest, might we have biscuits?”

“This isn’t afternoon tea, Bran,” Hugh began, but Frieda only smiled at the boy.

“Of course, love. There’s still that jar of gingersnaps in the cabinet. Why don’t you go help your brother find them? I’ll stay here while Mistress Laskaris and Sergeant Epocan have a chat with our friend.”

“No,” Vahne said hoarsely. “No, I-I only want to speak to Miss Aurelia.”

“Sweetling, there’s no need to worry. You’re as safe as can be here.”

“By myself, ma’am.” Her hands shook where her fingers lay knotted at her waist; it was obvious she was terrified and only barely hanging onto the merest threads of her composure. “I have to speak with her alone. It’s important.”

“Surely a bit of tea-”

Firmly, she shook her head. “Thank you, ma’am, but I’m not hungry.”

“Biscuits can come later.” Aurelia took the Miqo’te girl by the elbow and gently urged her to stand. “Let’s talk outside first, shall we? By the chicken coop around the corner.”

Her concern for the girl was enough that she barely took note of the stifling afternoon heat when the pair set foot back outside. She nudged aside Frieda’s hens with one foot and guided Vahne around the corner to find a patch of shade beneath the overhanging eaves of the coop before turning to her and offering a small smile.

“Goody Miller’s a very sweet lady and her offer was genuine, just so you know. But we’re alone now,” she said, keeping her words as quiet and gentle as she could manage. “What’s happened to bring you back so soon? Have you been hurt?”

Sniffling piteously, Vahne scrubbed at her eyes with her bared forearm and shook her head. The childish bravado of yesterday was quite gone; now she looked small and forlorn and frightened, and every ilm the Miqitten she was in truth. Not knowing what else to do for the moment, Aurelia opened her arms in the way L’haiya used to do when she was distressed. She was quite uncertain that the gesture would be accepted, and was more than a little surprised when a pair of wiry arms wound themselves around her waist and squeezed tight.

The girl stammered, “I-I-I’m not here for me. I-”

“It’s all right,” Aurelia carefully smoothed her fluffy curls away from her wet eyes, “you can talk to me. Tell me what’s happened.”

“...She doesn’t know I’m here!” Vahne cried. “I’m- she’s going to be so angry, I broke all of the rules and she’s going to- I’m so scared! But I-I couldn’t- he needs help, I couldn’t just let him-”

“Deep breaths,” she said. “Count to ten.”

“I-”

“I’ll count with you if you like.”

“N-no, I’m-” The small body pressed against hers trembled from head to toe for long minutes before the arms around her waist relaxed, and Aurelia let her go. Vahne took a slow, deep breath, then stared down at her feet. “I’m not supposed to be here. There’ll be the seven hells to pay once she finds out I’ve come to fetch you. But… there’s-”

At her hesitation, Aurelia said, “There’s been an emergency?”

“I’m…. I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Not even our friends know. But-”

“But?”

“I had to go find help. He’s like to die,” Vahne burst out. “I can’t talk about it here, but- he’s so ill and nothing she’s done is working! Not the potions or the conjury, none of it!”

“Vahne-”

“Please, I need you to come with me, you have to come back and help him if he doesn’t have help he’ll die- ”

“Vahne, love. Take a breath.” She braced her hands upon those thin shoulders. “You don’t need to explain any further. I’ll go.”

“Oh thank you, thank-”

“First things first.” Her hands squeezed those thin shoulders. “There are some things I need to get from my house, and I need to let my partner - the Keeper man you met - know about this.”

Those eyes went huge with alarm. “You can’t tell him about us! People aren’t supposed to-”

“He won’t give away your secret. I promise. But he needs to know where I’m going so that the other healers don’t worry. Even if he just tells them I’m helping someone who’s sick outside the village.”

“B-but-”

“I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

“I…. I can try.”

“I want you to stay here with the little ones for a bit while I talk with my partner. I’ll need to fetch my medicine bag from my house, and once that’s done you and I can go together. All right?”

Vahne’s expression was still skeptical, but after a moment she nodded.

“Good. Let’s get out of this awful heat. I’m sure Goody Miller will be happy to let you wash up.”

Frieda, predictably, was more than grateful for the distraction (and at least as curious as her youngest sons), and while Vahne took her seat once more Aurelia went into the parlor where Keveh’to was helping the boys retrieve the jar of gingersnaps on the high shelf of their mother’s cupboard.

“Sergeant,” she said. “We need to talk.”

He didn’t bat an eye. “Take those to your mum,” he directed Bran, passing the opened earthenware to the boy. “Be careful not to drop it.”

“Are you and Miss Aurelia coming?”

“In a moment.”

Once he had judged the children to be out of earshot, he turned to her with a frown, his voice dropping near to a whisper.

“So. What’s got your new little friend upset?”

“There is someone in dire need of medical aid. I wasn’t able to get much out of her beyond that, but she was being secretive enough about his identity that I suspect her guardian would be in a great deal of trouble if it was widely known.” Aurelia shook her head. “I’m sorry, but whatever’s happened with your dead man, you’ll either need to continue your investigation alone or wait until I return.”

“Return? What do you mean-” The furrow in his brow deepened visibly. “...Where are you going?”

The Garlean stared at him as if he’d gone entirely daft. “Well, with the girl. Back to her home, of course. What did you think I meant?”

“What- you absolutely will not.”

“Keveh’to, I must. I’m a chirurgeon. This is my profession. No matter how much you mislike the decision, I cannot simply-”

“You would risk your standing with the Hearer- with the Elder Seedseer - for a girl you met by chance yesterday. A girl whose family is possibly harboring an outlaw?”

“We don’t know what he is, only that she won't discuss him. ...Although I shall own that is most likely to be the case.”

“Ewain’s going to be furious with you.”

“Ewain has yet to approve of aught I do. ‘Twould be a terrible pity to disappoint his abysmal expectations, especially if it means healing someone of whom he might not approve."

“You know very well what I mean! Trevantioux’s not in charge but he’s still Ewain’s assistant for now, and he’s of half a mind to have you punted back to Gridania as it is. If you go so far as to simply take off on your own like this, the Hearer might actually listen to him.”

“It falls to you to make sure that doesn’t happen, then, doesn’t it? Make excuses for me if you must, but I am going.”

His frustration was writ large across his face, and although Aurelia couldn’t help a sense of passing amusement at the sight - apparently even the good sergeant had his prejudices - her concern for Vahne’s predicament left her with little patience nor time to coax him into an agreement.

“Very well,” he sighed. “When? Tonight?”

“As soon as I’ve gathered my things.” When he opened his mouth to object, Aurelia raised one of her hands. “I know, but I really don’t think it would be wise to wait on Ewain’s approval- Frieda!”

“Aurelia-”

“Yes, love?” came the response from the hallway. Aurelia ignored Keveh’to’s quiet string of exasperated oaths.

“Can you watch her for about a quarter bell? I’m running back to the house for some things and then our friend and I will be on our way!”

“Aurelia, we should talk about-” She pushed her way past him and opened the front door, Keveh’to trailing behind. “Damn it, wait for me!”

Trevantioux must have chosen to linger on his way home; the house was still empty when she threw the latch and slipped through the door. She hurried past the small partition that made up her room, reached into the plain cabinet by her cot, and retrieved the heavy standard-issue medicus’ field kit from its resting place for the first time in moons.

From his spot in the doorway, she could hear Keveh’to tapping his toe impatiently. She reached into her leather satchel to search for her journal and her gathering bag, then shouldered her burdens and made her way into the main area. “Surely you don’t plan to walk with all of that,” he said.

“Why, Sergeant Epocan! If one didn’t know better, one might suspect you were concerned for my welfare.”

“Someone should worry about you. For a lass as quick-witted as you are, you are downright bleeding pigheaded sometimes, do you know that, Mistress Laskaris?”

“So I am,” she said, without skipping a beat. “Obstinate as a gigas, my governess used to say. ‘Tis the Garlean in me, you understand. As a race, we’re rather a stubborn lot.”

The scowl he wore trembled, the tiniest bit, into a smirk. She grinned.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” she said, “but I will be back.”

“That isn’t what I’d call reassuring.”

“Keveh’to, I have had any number of opportunities since our arrival here to attempt an escape. Please. I’m asking you the same thing I just asked Vahne.”

“Vahne?”

“The girl. I’m asking you to trust me.”

He folded his arms over his chest, ears flat and tail flickering unhappily.

“I do,” he admitted, gruffly.

“And pray make my excuses to the Hearer. I know you’ll think of something believable.”

Frustration gave way at last to resignation. It was the same sort of look Sazha used to give her when she’d successfully talked him into some childish scheme or harmless prank, and she felt a sharp and unexpected pang in her breast, one that she shoved down immediately as she brushed past him to open the door.

She needed to go back for Vahne so they could be quickly along her way. Remorse could wait.

~*~

Vahne seemed both surprised and relieved to see her - though rather less pleased about carrying two of Aurelia’s satchels - and they were off as soon as their waterskins were refilled and Frieda had pressed extra biscuits upon them (never minding Vahne’s embarrassed insistence that she wasn’t hungry). The stiffness and tension flowed out of the girl’s shoulders once they entered the tree line on the opposite embankment of the creek bed. She had lost none of her anxiety; it lingered still in her furrowed brow, but she had stopped crying and even made a brief attempt at conversation as the two made their way through the forest.

“So how did you meet him?”

“Who?”

“You know who.” Vahne’s brow lifted beneath her fringe. “No one out here just makes friends with a Keeper.”

“And why shouldn't I? Keveh'to is an adventurer like myself. He fought the Empire as part of the Twin Adder. I met him when I first arrived in Gridania.” It was the truth, Aurelia thought, for all that it was rather broad and quite sparing of some few selective details.

“All right, so what’s he doing out here, then?”

“He was assigned out here and so was I, so we traveled to Willowsbend together.”

Vahne squinted at her for a long beat in silence, adjusting the strap of Aurelia’s herb satchel from one shoulder to the other before she spoke again.

“I think you’re lying, miss.”

“And I think you’re being impertinent.”

Her young companion huffed, lower lip protruding outward with her sullen and sidewise glare. “Adults always say that when they don’t want to answer my questions.”

“I wonder why that would be.”

Vahne’s glare deepened into a fitful scowl and that was the end of the discussion.

The afternoon wore on beneath the quiet crunch of leaves and the occasional snap of twigs, and they walked in a silence that continued unbroken with the exception of the occasional bird call in the distance. Aurelia stopped their trek long enough to rest and take some water and a light snack, and she could sense the fear and impatience coming off the girl in waves even to pause for such a basic necessity. As the pair made their way into the depths of the Shroud, the sun sank lower in the trees until the light grew dim in what little of the sky was visible beyond the canopy.

Aurelia was loath to admit to it, but exhaustion was beginning to run its treacly fingers up her legs, dragging her footsteps. They seemed to sink deeper into leaves and loam with each passing step. She’d long since fallen out of the routine of daily hard exercise that castrum life had imposed, and this was a longer trip than she had expected. Even half-emptied the field kit dug painfully into her shoulder, but there was little for it save to continue on and hope there was respite in sight.

As if on cue she felt a tug at the corner of her dalmatica.

“Up ahead.” Vahne adjusted the strap on her shoulder and pointed. “There it is, that’s my Aunt Rhaya’s cabin.”

She would have missed it if she weren’t looking for it. The small homestead all but blended into the background of birch and sycamore, a thread of peat smoke twining in a vague ribbon from what appeared to be a thatched roof half-covered in pine needles.

Despite what must surely have been the welcome sight of her home, the Miqitten at Aurelia’s side did not move. She stood transfixed upon the path towards the clearing and stared in the direction of the cabin’s front door, her luminous grey eyes glassy and bright with newly formed tears.

“Vahne? What’s wrong?”

“My aunt, she…” Those thin shoulders slumped forward. “...Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s- she’s going to be mad at me,” she whispered. Her voice was small and tremulous. “Really, really mad. I don’t know… she might not let you inside.”

Aurelia tried to offer as reassuring a smile as she could muster. “Well, let’s not invite trouble before it appears, shall we? We can cross that bridge when it arises. I can take my bags back if they’re too heavy for you.”

“No… no, it’s all right. They’re not any trouble, really.” Vahne’s mouth arched downwards in a trembling bow. “It wouldn’t help, anyroad.”

A lantern light flickered fitfully in one of the windows, and as dusk descended upon the forest it became a beacon for them both, healer and huntress in training. Aurelia nearly startled when Vahne slipped one thin hand around hers and squeezed, tightly- but knew almost as soon as it happened that Vahne would be embarrassed should she remark upon it. She liked the girl and wanted to spare her feelings, so she only returned the gesture with a brief squeeze of her own as they drew near.

Something instinctive drew its fingers up her spine all of a sudden and Aurelia stopped, grabbed her young companion’s hand, and pulled her to a halt as the door was flung unceremoniously open. A handsome Miqo’te woman who looked very much like Vahne all but threw herself across the threshold, bow and arrow nocked and ready to fire. The expression on her pretty face, what Aurelia could see of it in the growing darkness, was grim and tight-lipped.

Vahne quailed at her side, half-concealed behind a nearby stack of lumber. The woman, who Aurelia assumed must be her aunt, did not seem to notice.

“Stay where you are! Don’t come any closer!” she snarled. The creak of wood was audible as her slender fingers pulled the bowstring taut, and Aurelia doubted she would hesitate if her bluff was called. “Get yourself back to the road, stranger, or I’ll see you buried in the forest.”

“Madam, please,” Aurelia began, “I’m-”

“You get one more warning before I let my bow speak for me. Your choice.”

That face could have been hewn from the white stone of Amdapor for all the softness in it- and in the next heartbeat, Vahne stepped forward and pushed her back behind the lumber pile, shielding Aurelia with her body before she could protest.

The woman’s eyes flared wide with surprise, and her grip on the bow relaxed.

“Vahne? What are you-”

“I won’t let you hurt her, Auntie,” Vahne burst out, flinging her skinny arms outward. “You’ll have to shoot me first!”

Vahne’s aunt was quick to recover, the angry set of her jaw returning in full force.

“...Who is this person?”

“This is Miss Aurelia,” she replied, and after a rather more hesitant beat, added: “She’s a conjurer. She’s the lady who saved me in the ruins-”

“Where you were not supposed to be.” Those steely grey eyes, a shade or two darker than the girl’s, narrowed to slits. “...Vahne, so help me, if you went into Quarrymill to fetch her-”

The girl’s face had gone pale.

“No! Aunt Rhaya, she… it’s just a little village, on the far side of the creek. I wasn’t- I-I was careful to make sure that-”

“You know what we discussed! No one was to know about him, Vahne! No one!”

It was quite clear this impasse wasn’t going to be solved any time soon without her intervention. Aurelia cleared her throat and nudged the girl to one side, neatly sidestepping her extended arms, and both Miqo’te stared at her.

“Good evening, madam,” she said, as politely as she could manage. “I hate to interrupt, but- I assume you must be Rhaya? Vahne has spoken of you before.”

Vahne winced, visibly, at the hostile glare the other woman gave her before turning her suspicious glare upon the newcomer- but her aunt nodded, slowly.

“Aye, I’m Rhaya Wolndara. And who’re you?”

“My name is Aurelia. As your niece says, I’m a conjurer and chirurgeon, and a member of the guild in Gridania. Now, I’m given to understand that someone in your household is in need of a healer. Is this true?”

“We don’t need help from the likes of you,” Rhaya said flatly. “I don’t know what Vahne told you, but no Gridanian is about to set foot-”

“Aunt Rhaya, please! He’s going to die if we don’t do something!” Vahne blurted. She stamped one foot in the dirt and the tears in her eyes overflowed, trickled down her cheeks, dripped onto her kurta. “I told you about her yesterday when I met her and you said it was fine and we don’t need her but it’s not fine, he’s dying!”

“Vahne-”

“She wants to help! Can’t you at least let her try?”

Aurelia looked between Rhaya and Vahne, whose tears were clearly borne of anger and frustration, and opened her hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“Vahne has given me no details save that there was an emergency,” she said. “If you like I can come in, make an examination, and tell you what needs to be done and a decision can be made from there. But this is a private matter and I see no need to involve the Guild nor anyone else.”

“....You won’t tell anyone you were here,” Rhaya said, after a long and deliberate pause. “I have your word?”

“You have my word.”

The flickering candlelight from the lantern haloed the huntress’ lithe form in such a way that made her expression difficult to see, but after a pause, Rhaya lowered her bow and gestured towards the door with a jerk of her chin.

“Shoes at the door. Follow me.”

#chapter 26 #reborn by fire #chrysalispen writes #aurelia laskaris #garlean warrior of light

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

What Might Have Been - 14

(CW: hunger, exhaustion, threats of violence, language, abduction, an ending you won’t like. Outsider POV, but Aziraphale is there.)

(I am...really sorry...*flees the room*)

The latest part of my @goodomenscelebration fic! (Around 5k for this one)

Read the previous parts on AO3!

Food

Lyla had been walking for days. For years, really, ever since her parents had gone out for supplies and never returned, leaving her and Benny to fend for themselves.

They’d thought Dover would be safe. Had been, for almost half a year, before the blight reached the fields, before the fish all died, before the castle had been destroyed by a blast of power during one of the endless battles that raged in the sky.

She didn’t know which side had fired the blast. Didn’t even matter. Their home was gone.

Benny walked beside her, holding her hand. He was exhausted. Beyond that. His little legs couldn’t keep up with the crowd, but Lyla wasn’t strong enough to carry him for long. Every now and then, he tugged at her arm. “’M hungry,” he would whine. “’M tired.”

“I know Benny. Just a little more.”

“How much more?”

“A bit?” Lyla had been to London once, back before Benny was even born. It had taken less than two hours, but it had felt like an eternity.

She hadn’t known what eternity was back then.

“Is there anything to eat?”

Lyla dug in the pockets of her father’s jacket, hanging loose off her thin arms. She’d taken everything she could find from the ruins of the castle, but it had been a long walk through the blight. “I’ve got…um…two walnuts.” She tried to crack one in her hand without letting go of Benny, without falling behind, without dropping the last food they might see for days –

Suddenly her hand was empty.

“Benny!” She spun, to find a man in a pale suit carrying him. “Give him back!”

“My dear, I think you need both hands, and he’s quite tired –”

“Shut up! Give him back now!” She struck out, kicking him in the shin. His eyes went wide with surprise, and she prepared for another kick, maybe a bit higher this time.

“Alright. Here, he’s fine,” he quickly put Benny down and Lyla scooped him up. He wasn’t that heavy after all. Benny had hardly grown at all since the war started.

“Who are you? Where did you come from?”

“What do you mean? I’ve been traveling with you for quite some time.”

“No you haven’t.” There wasn’t a spot of dirt anywhere on his pristine suit. He weighed as much as half the traveling party put together, his hands were manicured. “You’re not from any of the surviving cells. Are you from some – some hidden estate? Which side did you make a deal with?” Lyla clutched Benny until he gave a moan of pain. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“I – honestly, it’s nothing of the kind. I have been traveling with you for a long, long time, remember?”

Lyla frowned. She supposed she did, but… “Dressed like that?”

“Well, I have standards.” He straightened the ridiculous tartan tie around his neck and smiled. “Now, if I can’t carry him, perhaps I can take care of those for you?” He held out his hand. She placed both the walnuts in his outstretched palm. The man clenched his fist for a moment, then opened it again to show both neatly cracked and ready to be eaten.

“Thank you,” Lyla murmured, picking up the nuts and handing them to Benny. He devoured them in seconds.

“My dear, you really should have kept one for yourself!”

“Don’t need it,” she said, even as her stomach growled. “We’ll be in London soon, right?”

“I…perhaps.” His eyes lingered on the dried-up river to their left, empty except for a thread of grey slurry oozing along the center. “I walked this way once, a long time ago.”

“We should catch up,” she muttered. Something about the man made her uncomfortable. They had fallen a little behind the rest of the group, and she wasn’t sure if anyone would turn back if she screamed.

“I don’t think you’re likely to get lost. Just keep to the road and…”

Up ahead, the embankment to the right had collapsed, spilling black earth across the road. It wasn’t thick, but it was wide. Everyone had stopped.

Lyla set Benny down beside one of the abandoned, rusted cars that littered the motorway. “We’ll have to go back.” There had to be a north-bound road that wasn’t blocked. Maybe at Worthing, there was supposed to be a major road there. Maybe. They’d lost the map two days ago, but north was north.

“Go back? It’s just a bit of dirt. Come, even I’m not that precious.”

Lyla backed away from him, eyes wide. “Just a bit of dirt? Are you insane?” She’d stepped on a patch once, back when it first spread to southern England, and had been stuck in bed for a week recovering.

“I just mean,” he waved a hand vaguely.

But more of the crowd had heard him. All eyes were on him now, and the muttering. Who is this man? Where did he come from? Is he a spy?

He held up his hands, looking a little nervous. “I just meant, er, there’s certainly a bit of a path around it. Look!”

They all turned back, and sure enough, there was a narrow strip on the left side of the road, completely bare of earth. They could pass through there, single file.

The man went last, and when Lyla turned back, he was rising from a crouch, dusting off his hands with a frown. “Just stumbled a bit, my dear, don’t worry about me.” He walked beside her again, smiling as if they were friends. “I don’t believe I caught your name?”

“Lyla,” she said, reluctantly. “Lyla Wilson. This is my brother, Benny.” He was walking beside her again, holding her left hand, as far as she could keep him from the strange man.

“Nice to meet you. My name is, er, Kasbeel.”

“Kasbeel? What sort of name is that?”

“Oh a very common one. In. Um. Chaldea.”

“Never heard of it.” Lyla frowned, the conversation shifting oddly around in her mind. “Oh, hang on, did you say Chelsea?”

“Yes, that certainly seems likely.” He cleared his throat. “Yes. Kasbeel. From Chelsea.”

Something didn’t add up, but Lyla supposed it wasn’t important. They were heading north, and they’d be in London soon. That was all that mattered.

“Why London?” Kasbeel suddenly asked. “Surely there’s someplace closer you can all go?”

“Closer? The entire south coast is flooded.” She slowed down a little, as Benny’s legs started getting tired again. “And…they say London is safe. Only place they can’t go. You just have to find a way in.”

“They?”

“Who else? Angels and demons. Good riddance to both.”

Kasbeel slowed to a stop. Lyla almost kept walking without him, but his cheerful face had fallen, and he just looked lost. The same expression Benny wore when they’d left Dover, and Canterbury before that, and the day their parents had left…

“Well, why are you going, then?" She demanded "Since you don’t know anything about anything.”

“I – I was supposed to meet someone.” He looked out east, back over the basted, black hills of the South Downs. “Out there. Only…it’s all gone now. I thought he would go to London next. But if he can’t get in…I don’t even know where to look.”

“I mean…they say there’s ways. For humans.” She wasn’t sure if it was true. A wall of energy was supposed to surround the city, incinerating anyone who tried to cross it. But everyone knew someone who knew someone who had gotten out – or in.

Lyla glanced up to find the group already rounding the next corner. It wasn’t safe to fall behind, but somehow, she didn’t feel in danger from this strange man. “I’m sure your friend will be able to find a way in. Us, too. Alright?”

He smiled. “Yes. I just…I very much missed home for a moment.”

“Yeah, you and everyone else. Now come on.” She picked up Benny and started walking again.

“’M tired,” he said, which was almost all he ever said anymore.

Kasbeel’s hand drifted over and stroked his hair. “How about a little nap? I can carry him if you want. It’s no trouble.”

“Well. Alright. But only because we’re walking the same way. No funny business.”

Benny was sound asleep before he even reached Kasbeel’s arms, head resting lightly on his shoulder.

The line of rusted cars stretched across the motorway.

On the other side, the Marked ones, carrying clubs, and broken bottles, and knives.

“Just let us through,” someone called, as the wanderers milled around anxiously.

“Get lost, garbage,” snarled a woman, slamming her hands against a car, the Mark on her face twisted by her rage. “You’re not getting our food. Fuck off!”

“We don’t want your food!” one voice called, just as another shouted, “Please! We’re starving!” And another: “We’ve got kids here, just feed the kids!” And another: “The angels took Brighton, how much longer do you think you have.” And another: “Just let us through!”

“I don’t understand,” Kasbeel murmured, gently rocking Benny, who still slept in his arms. “Why won’t they just let you pass? And what are those brands on their faces?”

“Now I know you’re shitting me,” Lyla grumbled. “Are you going to tell me you never heard of the Mark of the Beast?” The gang on the other side of the cars all wore it somewhere: on their foreheads, their cheeks, their necks. Someplace it couldn’t easily be hidden – a complex sigil of straight and curved lines, contained in a circle.

“Ah,” Kasbeel sighed. “Yes, well…I’ve never actually seen it before…”

Lyla had seen it on the occasional traveler, trying to break into whatever place of safety they’d secured for themselves, hammering at the doors and screaming as she and Benny hid amongst people they hoped they could trust. Never on such a large group, all gathered together.

One of them leapt onto the bonnet of a car, throwing a bottle over their heads. Lyla ducked – she wasn’t the only one – but it shattered loudly somewhere in the distance. The voices all stumbled to a halt.

“You all know the rules,” the figure on the car snarled, pointing with a bar of metal, dented and stained. “Anyone can pass through here – so long as they take the Mark. Otherwise, you go around.” The figure glared across the crowd, taking in the wanderers, their wide, desperate eyes. “Angels don’t bother us. Never have, never will. Only reason they’d come here is for you lot, and we’re not going to take that risk. No Mark, no passage.”

Another murmur ran through the crowd. Kasbeel was asking a question, but Lyla couldn’t listen. She was so hungry. Couldn't think. There was no way around except miles and miles of back tracking, searching for another road north. Her eyes burned. She was so tired.

A wailing siren – mournful and distant – broke through the air, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at all.

“Well,” called the Marked one standing on the car. “Looks like it’s time to decide.”

The ground trembled underfoot, rattling the cars where they sat. The Marked ones laughed, weaving through the barricade, shoving their way through the crowd, forcing the wanderers into a tighter and tighter knot. “They’re gonna want a good look at you lot,” one of them crowed. “Stay right here.” Several people started crying.

Suddenly, Lyla found Benny back in her arms, stirring slightly. Kasbeel stepped in front of her, watching the sides of the road. “Stay close to me, my dear. Whatever happens.”

She could have laughed. He looked at least fifty, soft as…well, as nothing was, not anymore, not in this ravaged world. But he still held his arm out protectively.

Well. He was the least malnourished person here. That might count for something. Maybe the demons would eat him first.

The erupted out of the ground, just like in the stories, the foul earth crumbling and flowing away as they rose effortlessly, already grinning.

Four of them, identical to each other – dark skin, hair in points, long eyelashes, ragged jackets. They surveyed the crowd of wanderers with an expression Lyla could only call hungry.

And Kasbeel…relaxed, a tension she hadn’t noticed going out of his shoulders. He tugged the brim of his fedora lower over his eyes, turning away from the demons.

Wait.

“Where did you get that hat?” Lyla demanded.

“I always had it,” he claimed, then held out a straw hat with a wide brim. “Here’s yours. Stay quiet, don’t look them in the eye, if you can help it, and they shouldn’t notice you.”

“What? I’ve never heard of demons having a weakness like that.” She tugged the hat as low as she could, and noticed for the first time dirt and mud smudged across Kasbeel’s suit. When had that happened?

“Don’t be absurd. It’s not them, I’m shielding you.”

“You what?” Perhaps he was insane after all.

“Sssh! I need to concentrate.”

“Well, look at this,” said one of the demons, smiling and rubbing his hands. He looked…pretty, in a way, if she hadn’t known what he was. “We’ve got some new recruits. Well done, Bob.”

“It’s Rae, actually, my lord,” said the leader of the Marked ones.

“I don’t care.” The demon waved a hand, and suddenly there were several enormous crates of food. Even from where she was standing, Lyla could see tins of beans and soup, vegetables with a little green in them, and by the stars – actual meat. Her stomach growled as she watched the Marked ones gather up their bounty and run back behind the barricade of cars, leaving the wanderers to the demons. She wasn’t the only one, either. All around them, people moaned, shuffling closer.

“Alright, wait your turns,” the lead demon said, as four identical faces circled the crowd.

Even though it probably didn’t mean anything, Lyla tugged her hat down again. “Why do they all look the same?” she wondered.

“Legion,” Kasbeel whispered back. “Foot soldiers of Hell. Though I believe they prefer to be called Eric.”

Yes, definitely insane. Benny shifted on her shoulder, starting to wake up. Lyla rubbed his back and hushed him.

“Well,” one of the Erics began. “I’m sure you’ve all heard the sales pitch by now. Join us, rule the world when we win. Palaces and kingdoms and wealth beyond your dreams. The offer hasn’t changed, though,” he chuckled, “at the rate we’re going, it’s going to be billions of very small kingdoms. Still, better to rule than to serve, right?” He grinned, as if waiting for a laugh.

“You always say that,” someone called. “You haven’t won yet.” There was a little murmuring, but not much. Politics. No one really cared about politics anymore.

“Well, haven’t lost either,” another Eric picked up the thread. “And let’s face it, it’s a better deal than the other side’s going to give you.”

“We don’t want to join anyone,” another voice said, high and scared. “We want to be left alone!”

Benny’s eyes fluttered open. “Lyla? ‘M hungry.”

“Shhhh, not yet.” She held him closer, like a bundle of twigs wrapped in cloth.

“Alright, I can see you’re not forward thinkers,” one of the Erics said, spreading his arms. “Pity that, but we can’t all be management material. How’s this deal? Join us now, and you’ll eat tonight. Fed and protected, from now on.” There was another murmur at that. “You’ve heard the rumors, well, it’s true. Once you get your Mark, the angels can’t touch you. And even our most enthusiastic brethren won’t harm you. Just what you want. Left alone.”

“Preposterous,” Kasbeel muttered, but he wasn’t the only one. And not all the voices were as skeptical as his. A few of them rose above the crowd, directing towards the Erics.

“Do we have to fight?”

“How often does the food come?”

“Can we change our minds?”

“What about a place to stay? Can you give us that?”

The Erics responded to each, enthusiastically, pointing, waving for people to come join them. Lyla wasn’t listening to them.

“’M hungry,” Benny said, his eyes glazed, barely cracking open. “My head hurts. ‘M cold…”

She pressed her lips to his forehead. He was burning up.

“Benny? Can you hear me? We can eat soon, I promise, you just have to hold on.”

He mumbled something, but she couldn’t even hear the words.

She pressed her forehead against his and whispered, and Benny nodded back.

Lyla stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” Kasbeel grabbed her arm. “Don’t be a fool – they’re asking for your soul.”

“So?” she snapped, jerking free, not even trying to keep her voice down. “Why should I care? What’s my soul ever done for me? I don’t need a soul, I need food. Benny needs food.”

“I can help you!”

“Really? How?” She pulled off the hat and threw it at his feet. “You’ve been walking with us for hours and all you do is talk nonsense and – and act like you’ve no idea what’s going on when you obviously do.” He winced, taking half a step back. “Fine, you know what? I don’t care. You do what you need to do to survive. Make people pity you, pretend to be an idiot. But don’t you judge me.”

“Listen, Lyla,” he reached for her hand, and she jerked it away, pulling Benny tighter into her arms. “I know, things are hard. It might seem like – like avoiding suffering is the most important thing –”

“Don’t start with me!” Lyla was all but screaming now, backing away. “Pain now, reward later? Is that your story? Just like those self-righteous angels. Those – those bastards destroy our homes, our families, our lives and they want us to thank them! And smile and get out of the way and ask them to do it again! No fucking thank you!” She glared at his clothes, his ample waistline, his soft hands with perfectly shaped nails, not so much as a chip. “I don’t know where you’re from. I don’t care, but out here in reality? We know we’re not going to make it to the end of the war. So all I can do is make sure my brother doesn’t suffer now. And for that, I’ll do anything.”

She marched away, and never looked back.

“Oi, you,” she shouted at one of the Erics, still trying to convince someone in the front row. Her stomach trembled with more than hunger and exhaustion. He turned to face her, and there was a gleam in his pretty eyes that made her want to scream like a child. “We’ll do it. We’re ready. You can take my brother, too, right?”

“Absolutely,” the demon smiled with too many teeth. “And what are your names?”

“Lyla,” she said, forcing down her fear. “Lyla Wilson. And this is Benny.”

“Well, Lyla, are you ready to swear your soul to the forces of Satan, forsaking the Light of God and the protection of the angels, forevermore?”

“Sure. Yeah. Long as there’s food.”

“And how about you, Benny?” The demon leaned forward, trying to meet his eyes. “Are you ready, too?”

Benny ran his tongue over his cracked lips. Lyla hadn’t even noticed how bad they’d gotten. It was just normal now. “Does it hurt?”

“Only a little,” the demon said, smiling again. “Just a moment of pain, and then you’ll be safe.”

“It’s alright, Benny,” Lyla said soothingly. “I’ll go first.” Benny swallowed, and nodded.

“You have to say it out loud,” the demon told him.

“I – I’ll do it. Whatever Lyla does.”

“Good enough.” The demon reached out a hand and rested it on Lyla’s cheek, pressing the heel of it into her cheekbone. She felt lightheaded – weak – very warm. Her legs wobbled, nearly giving out, and something sharp stabbed into her, reached deep, pulled –

And it was done. No flash of light or dark. No soul rending scream. Just like that, she was damned.

She traced a finger across her cheekbone, up to the hinge of her jaw. She could feel the Mark, slightly raised skin. Traced the pattern, identical to all the other Marked ones. It didn’t even itch.

There was a sound behind her, a gentle breath. She turned to see Kasbeel, at the front of the crowd, blue eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. He was shaking his head.

Well. Who the hell did he think he was, judging her?

The demon smiled at Benny. “Your turn.”

Lyla nodded. “It barely hurts at all, and I’ll be right here, alright?”

But the last word was drowned out by a bright, rich note blaring across the blasted plains. Not the wailing siren from before. This was clear, bright.

Trumpets.

“Lyla!” Kasbeel’s voice suddenly sounded choked. When she looked back, he was staggering back in the crowd, crouching down as if in pain.

“Is that –” one of the demons started, looking straight at him.

“There’s more!” another shouted, pointing in the sky. The clouds split open, and for the first time in years, Lyla saw the sun, saw blue sky, and from that rent came the bright wings of angels – three, five, seven, a dozen of them at least, floating down like feathers.

“Get out of here!” The demons scattered, swallowed up by the Earth the moment their feet touched it.

And not just them. The wanderers broke apart, racing back up the motorway, some running onto the cursed soil to fall, shouting in pain. A few leapt over the barricade of cars, taking their chances against the clubs of the Marked ones.

Lyla held Benny tight, not sure where to run, what to do.

“The children,” a familiar voice called. “All of them. And that woman over there, and those three. None of the others.”

Angels flowed across the sky, landing among the crowd. The people they touched fell limp immediately, to be picked up carefully, like dolls.

A rustle of feathers behind Lyla. She turned, slowly, as if in a dream, and looked up into the kind, warm smile of Kasbeel.

“Hello, my dear,” he said, sheathing his flaming sword.

He plucked her brother out of her unresisting arms.

“Lyla?” Benny mumbled.

“Shhh, don’t worry.” He rested a hand on Benny’s forehead. “How about a little nap?”

He collapsed in the angel’s arms, looking so peaceful, so frail.

“I know who you are,” she mumbled. “The stories. The…the Guardian of Humanity.”

“Yes. My reputation does proceed me.”

“Please,” Lyla begged, “I – I have to take care of him. Don’t…”

“Not anymore. Don’t worry, he’ll be safe with me, as all innocents are. But you…” he brushed a finger across the Mark on her jaw. “Well. Too late for some.”

Enormous white wings unfurled behind him, and another clear trumpet note shattered the air. As one, the angels rose into the sky and vanished through the hole, taking their light, the sky, and Lyla’s brother with them.

And Lyla collapsed onto the empty street.

Aziraphale sat up, shaking his head to clear the last echoes of the trumpet. He’d been helpless to do anything, except stop himself.

Stop himself from joining them.

There was only one thing that could override his mind like that. And the face of the angel that had spoken to Lyla, that had taken Benny…

He climbed to his feet, shuffled over to her, where she still sat, staring into nothing. She looked even younger than he’d thought. Not even sixteen. A child herself.

“Lyla,” he called, reaching for her shoulder. “Lyla, my dear –”

With a scream, she surged to her feet, tackling him, pounding weak fists against his chest. “You bastard! You fucking bastard! I saw his face! It was you! You!”

“It – I know this is – I swear, it wasn’t –”

“I know! Same face, just like the demons.” She hit him on both shoulders, throwing her whole weight behind it. He still barely felt a thing. “But that means you’re one of them! The whole fucking time you were one of them! I walked with you! I trusted you!”

“I’m not!” He held up his hands, but didn’t fight back. When he spoke, it was in as gentle a voice as he could manage. “I swear to you. I used to be, but I’m not. Not anymore.”

“Really? You don’t have a big pair of fluffy white wings? You can’t just – just make food appear? We were starving!”

“I wouldn’t have let you starve, but you were still walking. I had to let you –”

“Don’t say it! Don’t say I had to figure it out for myself. You could have fed us! You could have gotten us past these assholes –” she pointed at the barricade, but the Marked ones were all gone. All except for her. “You could have stopped me.”

“It was your choice.”

Lyla screamed, and screamed, and screamed, fingers tangled in her hair, swinging her head, only breaking to gasp for more breath. He waited, until finally her voice broke, and she sobbed.

Aziraphale pulled her into his arms and held her as she cried.

“Why?” she managed between gasping sobs. “Why did you even come here?”

“I’m sorry. I truly am. I wanted to understand what you were going through. I needed to observe. I never planned to let things get so out of hand. I just – I wanted to know.”

“Well, now you know.” She pulled away, wiping her eyes. “You going to go back? Tell your clones all about it? Have a great big laugh at the stupid humans?”

“I told you. I left them, a long time ago. I am not on their side.”

“Could you,” she gulped, looking away. “Could you have stopped them? Stopped…him?”

He shuddered, remembering the way the trumpet had reverberated through his mind. “That sound. That is…it’s how Heaven delivers orders. It’s very powerful, but it can be resisted.”

It shouldn’t have been so hard. Angels had to accept the orders, had to allow them into their minds, surrender the control to heaven. Aziraphale had done no such thing.

He hadn’t. The other him – the other Aziraphale – had consented so wholeheartedly to what was going on, it had overpowered him. Feedback in his mind, Heaven intruding where he had hoped never to find it again. Would it happen again? Would he be able to resist it? He’d very nearly flown off with them in the end.

“Lyla,” he said, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. “I wish I could have stopped it. But I will find out where they took your brother, I will get him back. I swear.”

“And hand him over to a damned soul?”

“You love him,” he told her firmly. “That’s all that matters.”

He looked at the brand on her jaw, the twisted curving sigil of the Fallen. To his eyes it was unique. Each Marked human had their own, just as each demon did. Hers was on the opposite side as Crowley’s, and just a little further down.

Had he kissed it, that morning, when he tried to wake Crowley up? He usually did, but his demon had been stubborn, right side of his face still buried in the pillows.

He found himself blinking away tears. Crowley is here. Somewhere. You just have to find him. Find Crowley. Find Benny. Help the humans. Avoid the angels…

“It’s too late, isn’t it?” He could see the shock settling into Lyla’s eyes. The defeat. “He’s gone.”

“Oh, no, my dear.” He reached up a hand and brushed her Mark. “It’s never too late.”

Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, Principality of Earth, Guardian of Humanity, led his troops over the wall of New Eden.

Inside, the fields and forests sprawled, pristine, perfect. A little more cultivated than the original Eden, of course, the land had forgotten how to provide painlessly, but it was learning. Just as the humans would learn to accept it, to give up their ties to the outside world, to be as they were meant to be.

His mind was troubled today. In the midst of the rescue, separating the Elect from the chaff, he had felt something. Some interference with his orders, something that had made him almost forget the mission, placing itself between him and the wisdom of Heaven. He’d almost wanted to stay and investigate, but he knew the importance of his work.

No one else could do what Aziraphale did.

He placed his new ward carefully on the grass, running a hand across his stomach. He could heal most of the ill effects of hunger, the rest would come with good, healthy meals. He glanced around for something to offer; every edible plant in the world grew here, row on row, always in fruit, always ready to harvest.

The boy’s eyes fluttered open. “Kasbeel?” he asked.

“No, child,” he said, beaming. “My name is Aziraphale.”

With a strangled cry, the boy’s eyes flew open. He scrambled away. It was a common reaction.

“Don’t worry, my dear fellow,” he said. “You are safe here in New Eden. Everything you could want.” He squeezed the walnuts in his hand until the shells cracked, and held the nuts out.

The boy swatted away the offering. “I want my sister.”

His jaw clenched, remembering her face, the Mark on her cheek. “She made her choice. It’s too late for her. But you, my boy –”

“No. No!” He sprang to his feet, seeming surprised at his own energy. “I won’t! I won’t stay here! You can’t keep me!”

“Come along, don’t be childish. No one has ever escaped –”

“Lyla!” He boy shouted, already running into the fields. “Lyla!”

His voice joined the chorus, the humans calling constantly for their wives, their husbands, their mothers, their friends. But they would learn. One day, they would learn.

This was where they belonged.

This was for the best.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #good omens celebration #goc2020 #Aziraphale #pov outsider #good omens #fanfiction #good omens fanfic #My writing #post apocalyptic #cw: hunger #cw: threats of violence #cw: abduction #cw: language #What Might Have Been #ao3 #ao3 link

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ana-mana-doo-doo-dododo · 4 years

Text

Pro Ana Diaries - Day 1

I started pro ana 2 weeks ago and have spent most of my time since then browsing the mpa forums. The first thread I stumbled upon was from 2015, and reading through it feels like stumbling upon an abandoned ghost town of anas, already so thin, shrinking thinner, thinner, so thin that they disappeared.

I read their signatures and it offers me sick consolation. I skim through their tales of failed recovery, their life’s story told through fluctuating numbers. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m relieved that they aren’t dead. Maybe I’m not the only one out there.

Fuck that. No more poetic shit.

I’m such a wannarexic.

I’m 5′3, though I like to tell people I’m 5′4 because I basically am; I’m only like a quarter of an inch there, but fuck that, I’m probably gonna shrink on ana. 2 weeks ago I finally confronted my demons. I quit assuring myself that I was within the average weight, because no I’m fucking not. According to calculator.net, I’m at risk of becoming overweight. No, no I’m not. I’m fucking obese.

When I was in middle school I ballooned. The whole fucking thing was like a 3-year swim meet, except instead of a pool it was the Pacific, and instead of water I had to swim to China in a miserable sea of depression and anxiety. Hey, you know what extremely low self-esteem plus pre-teen assholes equates to?

Binge. Eating. Disorder.

Fuck me, I was so stupid. I ate, like, 3 bags of cookies a day, and then some. You think I knew what a fucking calorie was? No wonder people wrinkled their noses when I walked by. I reeked of rotting fat and lack of self-control.

I haven’t binged as of yet, but I went over 500 calories yesterday so I basically did. I don’t b/p because it feels awkward and I don’t have enough leg strength to bend over the toilet that long, also my stupid fucking fat, triple-Z boobs hang down over my face and get in the way, another reminder of how fucking stupid I am.

Today I woke up at 7 to punish myself. I wear a little red necklace around my neck; I made it last week. There’s a charm hanging from it that I rub when I’m about to binge. The charm holds energy, like everything else in the world, and I need to keep it neutral; everything’s got to have balance. So if I binge, I must punish myself to trigger catharsis and an onslaught of good karma which will drown out the demonic energy in my amulet if I don’t want the universe to do it by itself. I couldn’t sleep at all because my demon dEmOn DeMoN DEMON kept vibrating through my body, the voice screaming FATFATFATFAT. I had to get up and exercise, I had to burn off the calories, I had to hurt myself before the universe could hurt me, but the moment I stood up my vision went dark and fuzzy and my legs felt like they were about to snap.

It’s a bit like a religion now, isn’t it? And I’ve never been much of a spiritual person. It just works wonders when it’s something you come up with on your own. It just sounds too real not to believe it at this point.

I made a promise to myself that, starting today, I wasn’t allowed to eat over 300 calories. But then I got so hungry after my lessons(which ran up till 3 today) that I made myself some vegetarian chicken nuggets and a few crackers. Then I’m gonna have to eat dinner later today and my mom’s making something Indian which I’m sure’s packed with calories, but luckily my dad doesn’t like Indian food so he’s going to make himself steamed cauliflower and I’m piggybacking on him today. That all adds up to 311 calories, though, and I really fucking wanted a cookie today because I’m hypoglycemic and low blood sugar makes me nauseous and triggers spot headaches. So 400 it is, then.

Pig. Fucking fat pig.

I walked 3 miles around my neighborhood 2 days ago, in galoshes, mind you, because I’m an idiot and I thought it was raining outside. By the time I got home the bottoms of my feet were covered in blisters and I had to drain them so I could walk. Even then, I only got 3 miles in. That might be 6000 steps in total.

What a pig. Can’t even walk 3 miles without getting blisters. Why can’t you be normal? Why can’t you be naturally skinny like other girls? Why did god have to make you so fucking fat, if god would even dare touch a piece of shit like you?

Do you ever hear someone talking shit about a kiss-up or an idiot behind their back and feel the need to stand up to them? Because you feel like, if they can say that about them, and you’re so much worse than they are, who says they won’t shit-talk you? Not that everyone doesn’t already shit-talk you. Not that you aren’t the only one in class always left without a partner, even when another person doesn’t have one because god forbid it’s you, especially now when your best friend and possibly the only person who might’ve actually been willing to be your pity-partner abandoned you for a literal aut*st. Like, diagnosed. And someone you, even you would abandon and might even mercy-kill because they’re so grating and everyone agrees. No, even to your best friend, you’re a sewer rat. They probably have better friends, anyway, because they’re skinny and pretty and actually underweight, and they’ve got all kinds of friends from their old schools and activities, while they’re making new best friends and you’ve always just been expendable goods, and while you just sit on the couch, shoving chips into your fat fucking piehole as you watch TV.

I might do another entry tomorrow, but who the fuck cares. Rest-assured, my BMI is over 24.9, so yes, I’m actually fat. Don’t worry about me wasting away by tomorrow.

Hugs and Kisses

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Total calories eaten today:

Lunch:

- 4 quorn nuggets: 192 calories

- 10 cheez-its: 55.5 calories

- total: 247.5 calories

Dinner:

- Green beans and cauliflower, tossed in breadcrumbs: 64 calories

- total: 64 calories

So I don’t die:

- vanilla cylinder cookies: 120 calories

- total: 120 calories

Total calories consumed:

431.5 calories

Exercise:

- 1 mile of walking: -100 calories

- BMR: -1479 calories

- TDEE: -1775 calories(w/o factoring in any exercise)

Total negative calories:

-1875 calories

Net calories:

-1443.5 calories

Calories to next pound loss:

2056.5 calories

Notes:

Fuck me. At this rate, I’m gonna be losing a pound every 3 days.

#ana #pro ana #proana #anorexia #wannarexia #anorexic #food #food log #food diary #ed #mental disorder #eating disoder things #eating disorder #eating disorder thoughts #eating well

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skinnylittleredwrites · 4 years

Text

My best friend, my lover.

TITLE OF STORY: My best friend, my lover. CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: 1/? AUTHOR: skinnylittlered. WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom. GENRE: Romance. FIC SUMMARY: Andrea and Tom have been friends since the beginning of time. Until a confession of love is made. This story follows the events of their subsequent relationship (sequel to You Wanna Play that Game? ) RATING: Explicit (language, references to sexual activity). WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: - FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: -

Chapter 1.

As I pull my hair back in quite possibly the fiftieth bun, a bun by which I’m trying to convey that I did try, but at the same time that I didn’t try too much, but inevitably fail for the, quite possibly fiftieth time

I groan in defeated exasperation raising my hands to the unforgiving high heavens and damn it all to hell, just letting my arms slump and my hair fall back in its usual, otherwise perfectly passable, waves, I decide that this is probably the end of me as a potential romantic social being because at this point it seems that my whole self esteem is, irrationally, loosely hanging by the very thin thread of my very poor skill of fashioning a complementary hairdo to my outfit, a skill that I, naturally, expected myself to acquire by precisely fifteen minutes of watching instructional videos of how to accomplish such a task, and ten minutes of attempting to recreate it myself. Surely, I should have known that an amateur thirty something year old with virtually no experience in hair styling other than the casual, day-to-day hairdo, could match that of a teenager who essentially does it for a job. Surely.

Surely.

Or... maybe if I do let my hair rest on my shoulders as it usually does, however now more orderly that in it generally is, thanks to the application of several products that I didn’t really know I needed, but now that I have been acquainted with, decide I maybe will actually use in the future I might actually have succeeded in doing the very thing that I believed I had been failing at all along. As I look in the mirror, perspective anew, I thank the lord for both sixteen year olds on the internet and self suggestion, both very powerful tools in the life of a woman.

All in all, I’m pretty pleased with the result. Hair may have proven, along the three decades of my inhabiting this earth to be one thing that, try as I might, I could never really master, but makeup and dressing up are things that, if I may say so myself, I’m pretty damn good at. Trial and error, of course, has proven to be the mother of all teachers and, with god as my witness, there was quite the number of errors in my trials. However, as I’m shamelessly admiring my full length reflection I’m happy to conclude that this may be the culmination of my learning experience and what a perfect opportunity of that to happen, this date that I have been hoping for but never really letting myself to expect for most of my adult life.

There is, indeed, a life out of the friend zone. Or at least for those of us who are lucky enough to have the object of our desires return our sentiments, there is. As it turns out, I am one of those happy ones and I would rather not consider the alternative. It is much to dreadful to ponder upon right now, and I believe I’ve done more than my fair share of thinking about it so far. Tonight is a celebration of my triumph. Tonight is about new beginnings and the beautiful things that can spawn out of a life long friendship turned romance. Tonight is our first date and I cannot wait to see him, and I am excited, and anxious, and jubilant, and absolutely terrified and-

As the train of thought is all but a hair’s width away from crashing into the sometimes thicker than I’d like it to be bone of my skull, I try to distract myself by admiring my outfit once more, but, however nice it is, the second time around it doesn’t really work anymore. Trepidation is a very strong detractor from reality, and in reality, it’s just going to be me and him. Alone. On a date. There are so many ways this can become very fucked up in various ways but, thankfully enough, before I can make a mental inventory of each and all of them, possibly in alphabetical order, and drive myself various degrees of insane in a very short time span, the alarm I set for leaving home and picking him up at the airport goes off and I bolt out the door.

The car drive and subsequent wait at the airport go by in a flurry of faces and roads and the trees by those roads, and bad music on the radio, and there, emerging from this mix of mismatched elements is his face. I see him looking around the crowd, eyes searching, with his brows furrowed as they do when he’s focused on something, and I wait patiently for him to locate me. His expression changes visibly when he does, softening a bit and I’m frozen into place with anxiety. Serves me right to feel like this after having dumped all of my emotional baggage on him right before he had to leave. As he strides towards me, I have the sudden urge to make a run for home and just spend the day watching TV reruns and eating junk food instead of torturing myself like this. But here he is, and here I am, and here we are, silently sharing an awkward hug in Heathrow, silently walking towards my car outside of Heathrow, silently driving the very same car away from Heathrow...

He clears his voice and hesitates before speaking.

“So... How’ve you been?”

My god, this really doesn’t feel right.

“Good. You?”

He is no longer turned to face me, but looking straight ahead at the road before us. His reply is absent minded, completely devoid of any inflection.

“Fair.”

“How’s your Da?”

This time a smile breaks through his poker face. Finally, something familiar.

“Getting younger every day. A lad in his prime, I’d say.”

“I bet!”

“He asked about you, you know?”

“Yeah?”

It isn’t really like I wouldn’t or didn’t expect that. I’ve known the man for most of my life, I’ve been to his house in Edinburgh more times than I can count on two hands, I send him homemade pie on Christmas. Of course he would ask about me, but I humour the conversation because, well, because it’s the first time since we’ve seen each other when we’re a bit more relaxed, so I let myself slip into the customer talk of how his father is, his eternal joie de vivre, the weather in Scotland, and others, feeling the air in the car become a bit lighter as we converse. Before long, I’m parked in the lot beside his house and the trepidation is slowly settling back in, evident to both of us.

“I’ll, uh, just drop my bag really quickly and be right back in? Or would you like to come up?”

I shake my head. He nods and exits the car.

There’s no way I can go back there, not with how I’m feeling, how we’re both feeling, right now, not with what happened the last time I was there, crying and professing my love, the love that had been corroding at my peace for years, unbeknownst to him, essentially dropping its decade weight on him out of nowhere. Fortunately, my love was mirrored by his, I found out the very same day, but that doesn’t really change much about the current situation. Our paradigm was shaken to the core, our mannerisms, before then fuelled by platonic pretense, however romantic our intentions might have subconsciously been, became deconstructed, crumbled before us. We have to re-learn friendship, to integrate love into the equation, to function as a couple. Moreover, there is the aspect of physicality to be considered. That fateful day brought with itself not only theoretical revelations, as it did carnal ones. For the first time in thirty something years, we knew each other as man and woman, fully wholly, biblically. It was a hunger that I did not even know I needed satiated to that extent, which is why I’d maybe disregarded it almost completely up to that point - also an instance of how such a powerful tool as self suggestion might come into play in one’s life, I reckon – but now that had a bite of the proverbial apple, I wanted more. Alas, what mess we’ve got ourselves into!

I startle as the car door opens and raise my forehead from the wheel. He is looking at me, not saying anything, and, breathing in, I do the same, feeling like I’m finally seeing him for the first time since I picked him up. This is Tom, my best friend since childhood. Tom, my partner through good and bad, high and low, the boy who thought me how to do a slingshot, who held my hair the first time I was hungover, who I, not only once, sent out on tampon runs at the most inconvenient times of the day. Tom, who smells like my childhood and maturity all in one. Tom, my best friend, my lover, my confidante, my Tom.

My Tom.

“I missed you.”

He smiles, a genuine, blossoming smile that reaches his eyes and it’s all back to normal for a brief second. Then his face comes closer to mine, so close that we’re breathing each other’s air and my heart flutters again. But this time it’s excitement. It’s new and it’s scary and I want to run away and jump in his arms at the same time and-

“I missed you, too,” he whispers against my lips and then kisses me. He kisses me for I don’t really know how long, and nor do I care, and it’s different familiarity than what I knew, but I know him and for the time being that’s all that matters.

****

Author's note: hello there to all of you who are still here. I'm back, in a way...?

#tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

The King and the Warrior

Category: Hurt and Comfort

Fandom: Yona of the Dawn

Characters: Son Hak, Soo-Won

Requested By: farrah87 (Ao3)

Soo-Won gasped as he twitched awake. His eyes shot open, and the ceiling above him blurred into an abstract painting of grey-brown streaks before reforming into the arranged slats and support beams. Exhaling deeply, he ran a hand through his disarrayed locks of pale hair to find them clumped together with sweat. He knew not what he had been dreaming about but also knew: King Il, saying such harsh words with that sickeningly fake smile on his face. Staring up at the ceiling while he struggled in the aftermath of the nightmare, it took him a moment to realize that this was not in fact his bedroom.

Once aware of that fact the recent events flood back into his short-term memory, and his face flushed rose. He was now also very aware of a small body pressed slightly against him, and there was no guesswork needed to know who that was. He stiffly turned his head, the bright flash of red hair in the moonlight the only answer he required. Yona’s face was soft and calm as she dozed beside him, her hands nestled by her face with her body curled like a little caterpillar in its cocoon. He smiled gently. How could such a strong, willful person like Yona still be so vulnerable and innocent-looking? With a troubled hum, he gently stroked his sweat-streaked fingers down the side of her face, leaving three thin lines of the salty solution glistening on her otherwise unmarred skin. Even after everything, she had still been unable to leave his side in his feverous stupor.

How cruel the world was.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hak’s footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet that lined the halls of Kouka Castle as he strode purposefully through the dark. At least, his body had purpose, but his mind didn’t; technically he was not supposed to be wandering the halls at this time of night, as Soo-Won and his ilk would find it quite suspect, but Hak righteously didn’t care. He couldn’t sleep, and he was never the type to lay in the sheets trying to will himself into slumber. If his body had energy to dissipate, then he took a walk to do so, simple as that.

Hak’s eyes narrowed as he spied a silhouette shuffling at the end of the hallway. As it passed by a window, the moonlight spilling in illuminated the form of Soo-Won himself. Hak hastily hid behind a pillar, just barely peering beyond its rounded edge to watch the meandering king. What was he doing wandering around at this hour? Surely he was up to something… The king was alone, for once. Hak’s fists curled into tight balls; he clenched them so hard that his knuckles glared as white as the surface of the moon hanging low in the dark night sky. Now was the perfect opportunity to interrogate Soo-Won for a multitude of things that had been bothering Hak for a great long while.

Before he could step out from behind the pillar, however, the sound of frantically falling footsteps froze him on the spot. He hurriedly hid himself completely behind the stone structure at Minsoo called softly out to the young king.

“Your Majesty!” The young boy’s breath came in slight gasps from his feverish run. Hak edged his face beyond the pillar, watching with hawk-like eyes as he stopped in front of Soo-Won, holding a hand over his chest as he caught his breath. “Ah, there you are. You weren’t in your chambers, so I went looking for you. You cannot be wandering around at this hour by yourself! What if you were to collapse?” Hak’s eyebrows quirked at the interesting tidbit of information. Collapse? Was Soo-Won recovering from some sort of wound? Or… Hak remembered vaguely that Soo-Won’s mother had died at a young age, presumably from some sort of illness, though it was all very hush-hush. Could it be possible that Soo-Won had inherited his mother’s frail disposition and was going to suffer the same fate?

Hak would’ve expected that he would’ve felt vindicated or triumphant. Instead, he felt the cold, slow flood of fear and concern seeping into the cells of his body, leaving him with a numb, tingling feeling. Something about Soo-Won being dead unsettled him, even now, after all that had happened… He put a hand to his face as it twisted into a mixture between a dismayed look and an irritated frown. Now was not the time to get into his feelings; he needed to listen to this conversation to learn all he could about the current state of affairs. “Princess Yona was looking for you… She awoke and you were gone. She was very disturbed by you collapsing from fever…”

A blaze of pink flared over Hak’s face. He passed out right in front of Yona? She had probably come to the same conclusion that he had, and that was dangerous knowledge for the princess to possess. No doubt, Soo-Won’s advisors were going to lay down even harsher sanctions on her. This is turning out to be a bigger mess than I imagined, he thought, belly heavy with foreboding.

“I needed some fresh air, that’s all. I am feeling much better. Please go tell Yona that I will return shortly. You may retire for the night, Minsoo. I’m quite all right.” Minsoo looked like he wished to argue, but it wasn’t like he was in any position to do so. Instead, he respectfully bowed his head before scurrying off in the direction of the princess’ quarters. Immediately, Soo-Won sighed deeply and leaned his shoulder against the castle wall, one hand threaded through his long blonde hair in a gesture of stress. Hak remained unseen behind the pillar for a moment, considering his options. If Kye-Sook and the others learned of how much Hak knew, it would be bad for him, and asking Soo-Won anything was likely to worsen any potential consequences… But, it wasn’t like Hak was the least bit threatened by the lot of them. There were things he wanted to know.

“Soo-Won.”

“Hello, Hak,” Soo-Won responded dully as the knight stepped out from behind the pillar to walk toward him. The king glanced wearily over his shoulder with that stupid smile that prevented Hak from knowing what his scheming mind was thinking. Hak stopped a few paces short of him. “What an expression on your face.” Hak was sure it was quite an expression. His conflicted hate for Soo-Won was so strong that it was guaranteed to be written all over his stony face anytime they interacted. He was glaring so hard his face actually hurt, but he really couldn’t help it.

“What does Minsoo mean? What are you recovering from?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“It damn well is my concern. You kill King Il to take the throne, and go and die less than a year later? What the hell are you plotting?” he snarled savagely. The smirk fell from Soo-Won’s face, morphing his visage into a blank, unreadable expression. It pissed Hak off to no end. He clenched his teeth, baring them like a wild dog, as he tightened his fists at his side. “… Did you do it just because you think King Il killed Lord Yu-Hon?”

Soo-Won’s eyes widened for a brief second before falling back into that uninterested lidded stare. He turned his head to face away from Hak, preventing him completely from reading his expression, as if he could anyway. Silence settled between them. “Well? Answer me!”

“Whether or not that is true has no bearing on anything.” Hak growled and jerked forward, foot stomping into the carpet.

“Of course it does! I just can’t figure you out! What are you doing all this for? Why did you hurt Princess Yona? I swear, if you hurt her any more, I’ll-!” Hak stopped short as Soo-Won pushed himself off from the wall only to start wobbling precariously, like his was inebriated. Reflexively, Hak surged forward to catch him under his arms as he fell, and Soo-won’s head flopped to the side against his chest. Beneath the strands of long blonde hair covering his face, Hak could see the deathly white pallor of his sunken cheeks. He really is… Sick… he thought dumbly, just staring at Soo-Won as he rasped unevenly.

“Hak…” He groaned suddenly. The warrior stiffened, not sure what to say, before replying with a soft and gruff, “Yeah?” “Please take care of her… of Yona… I can’t die… just yet… I still have… something I need to do…” He forced the words out between heaving inhales, clearly struggling to remain conscious long enough to deliver his message. As soon as the last syllable left his lips, he breathed out deeply before collapsing completely, his full weight sinking against Hak’s body. Hak’s expression was now the unreadable one as he stared down at the unconscious man in his arms. Soo-Won was vulnerable. Helpless. There was so much Hak could do with that…

But to what end?

“Idiot,” he grumbled as he hoisted Soo-Won up into his arms. The man was lighter than he ought to be. Soo-Won’s hair was already beginning to stick to his forehead with the sheen of sweat growing there. “You’d better not die, not until you tell me just what the hell has been going on.” His footfalls seemed heavier and louder as he carried the ill king down the hallway to Yona’s room. He slid the wooden door open with his foot, prompting a slight gasp from the princess, who was seated on her knees amongst tousled blankets and pillows. He paused in the doorway as her dawn-colored eyes wobbled in the dark, swimming with more emotions that Hak could ever name. Then, silently, she stood to rearrange the blankets and gesture for Hak to carry Soo-Won over. He did so, crouching down to gently deposit him in the bed. Yona pulled the covers up to his chin, sitting on his opposite side and gazing miserably down at his now flushed face.

“What’s going to happen to him, Hak?”

“I dunno,” he answered honestly. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He hated that he didn’t know, but there was no lie convincing enough that he could tell her. His dark eyes met hers, round and soft and brimming with tears. With a small sigh, he pushed himself back to his feet and walked around the sleeping Soo-Won to sit beside her, pulling her little body into a reassuring embrace. Her face buried into the fabric of his robes while her fingers clutched it like a lifeline, and the thick material muffled her already quiet sobs. He laid his cheek against the top of her head while releasing a deep, shaky sigh.

When was the last time anything had been right in their lives? It seemed like an eternity. His black eyes flickered down to Soo-Won’s face, which was screwed up in discomfort. … You’d better fix it, you bastard. Fix it all. In the meantime… I will protect her with my life.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#yona of the dawn #yona of the red dawn #akatsuki no yona #yotd #hak #son hak #soo-won #friendship fluff #general fluff #angst #hurt and comfort

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