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kohakuarisaka · 4 years ago

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Untamed (chapter 2 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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As it turned out, 'secluded cabin' was a pretty accurate statement.

Hawks had arranged for a very discreet hero taxi service to drive you the 5-hour trip from Musutafu to a quaint mountainous village that was so small and quiet, you almost doubted it was even on the map.

Past the snowy village, through the winding roads and towering trees, over a bridge, past a frozen lake, and then some miles off the main road, tucked away in a small clearing, was a beautiful cabin.

While the days were steadily growing warmer as spring rapidly approached, it still snowed at night. The snow had melted off the trees from the warmth of the midday sun; but, there was still a light blanket of white on the rooftop and across the surrounding grounds.

There were no poles lining the street, nothing that could bring electricity to the house; however, you could see what was likely a generator tucked away in the back. Someone had propped the cover off and cleaned out the snow.

At that sight, it became obvious that Hawks had beat you here. He already taken to clearing the snow out of the entry way as well, exposing a beautiful cobblestone pathway.

You exited the vehicle and retrieved your bags from the trunk. The very second you closed the hatch, the driver made a speedy exit, wheels skidding in the snow as they backed out before doing a sharp U-turn and barreling down the road.

Luckily, the entrance to the cabin opened before you could worry that you had just been abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Sure enough, Hawks stepped out, wild blonde locks brushed back, a little fluffier than usual due to the change in humidity.

Despite how cold it was, he was wearing a black tank top and loose, light grey sweat pants. He even stepped out onto the cold stone pathway with bare feet. Yet, with a light flush to his skin, he didn't look cold at all.

You had been making a face when he approached, and he offered an explanation, uttering, "I told 'em not to linger. It's suspicious."

Some large plumes departed his wingspan and grabbed at your luggage, one even pulling your shoulder bag off your back. They whipped away, bags in tow, and zipped past Hawks and through the doorway, disappearing into the cabin.

The winged hero didn't immediately usher you inside, as he usually did in these types of situations, but arched over you suddenly, arms bringing you into a tight embrace while his lips captured yours.

The sudden closeness forced your back to arch. Unconsciously, your hands fell onto his barely clothed shoulders, and you felt how warm he was. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he was running a fever.

The kiss was brief, but uncharacteristically messy, not that you were complaining. It was a kiss of longing, like he had missed you dearly, as if it had been months and not a day and a half.

He pulled back, a distant, albeit blissful, look on his face. His eyelids sagged as if he was tired, but the gold of his iris was bright and his pupils were focused.

"I didn't get to clean yet, but - ugh - do you wanna see inside?" he asked, some slight nervousness to his tone.

"Yeah," you breathed.

Hawks stepped aside and you gently brushed past him and stepped inside. The wood floors creaked softly beneath your feet as you crossed the threshold. Immediately, you were hit with a wonderful scent, earthy, like tree bark, but sweet, like raw honey.

It was a decent sized cabin, spacious and not heavily furnished. The kitchen was on the small side, but seemingly to accommodate a larger living room.

As Hawks had warned, there was a thin layer of dust all across the wood floors. The furniture was covered by clear tarps, shielding them from the debris.

The dining area tucked away in the corner had a chabudai in place of a western style table. It was small and clearly only intended for two people. You had a feeling it was new, considering how spotless it looked compared to the rest of the cabin.

A huge, stone fireplace rested against the north wall, surrounded by large windows that gave a beautiful view of the outside. They were adorned with heavy curtains, pulled back to let the sunlight in.

Hawks was lingering, following close, staring down at you as you walked around and took in the sight of the place. When your eyes landed on him, and you caught his unblinking stare, you realized he was awaiting feedback.

It startled you a little, for Hawks wasn't the kind to fuss over these sorts of things; but, you had a decent enough understanding of what a rut was to know what was going through his head.

"Relax, birdbrain," you cooed, reaching up to tap gently at his cheek with a closed palm. That seemed to knock him out of his stupor, for he blinked and suddenly looked sheepish. He flickered his gold eyes away, as if to give you space.

"I love it," you praised, looking back into the living area. "Cozy, and smells nice."

You heard him exhale a relieved sigh through his nostrils.

"We should get to work. Where's the cleaning stuff?" you asked, peeling your jacket off.

"Oh. I'll-" he began.

"You'll let me help," you interrupted him gently.

When you turned back to face him, and saw the bewildered expression he was wearing, you wondered if maybe that wasn't the right thing to fit with his current state.

"Unless that's... bad?" you offered uncertainly, shoulders sagging.

Hawks laughed suddenly at the sunken expression on your face, as if the joyous sound came sputtering out against his will.

"No," he answered softly, leaning in suddenly for another kiss, as if he couldn't help it. You didn't get a chance to kiss back before he was retreating.

"Don't change," he sighed. "I want you as you, not as my..."

"-subservient housewife?" you offered, just a little teasing.

He chuckled softly, breathing out a harsh, "fuck, no."

Hawks maneuvered around you and headed for what you guessed was a supply closet. Inside, the cleaning gear was also neatly packaged in containers and safe from dust.

It made sense, how neatly arranged everything was. Hawks was a fairly neat person; but, it was also clear that he had this whole thing down, neatly tuned and properly sorted out. He had been coming here for years, after all.

This place was special to him. That much was clear.

The two of you started to dusting and sweeping, followed by a diligent mopping, with the two of you working in tandem.

Hawks was fairly quiet during the whole ordeal, seemingly focused sternly on the task at hand. It had been his nest for years. This was hardly anything new; but, it was now going to be yours, too.

He didn't tell you that he had been worried he would react negatively to your presence. He didn't always react rationally during this time. Seemingly average things would sometimes irritate him, and a part of the possessive onslaught included this abode.

Fortunately, that hadn't been the case. Cleaning the cabin with you was soothing. He wasn't unaware of the obvious implication: that you were preparing a nest together, your shared nest. He didn't say it aloud, but you had come to that realization, as well.

It had actually calmed him quite a bit. He had been on edge before you arrived, skin prickled with heat and sweating unreasonably considering the cold. Those weren't abnormal during his ruts; but, it felt intensified with that knowledge that you were going to be here.

Darkness swept across the forest as the hours dragged on. Luckily, you were just about finished by the time it got dark.

There was a neat stack of firewood arranged on a carrier near the fireplace, making you wonder if that was what he had worked on before your arrival. The logs looked freshly cut and heavy.

Crimson feathers delivered logs to the hearth. Hawks retrieved a set of matches from a cubby near the carrier and then kneeled before the hearth. He set one of the matches ablaze and carefully ignited the firewood arranged in the pit.

Warmth and light flooded the cabinet. Plumes gathered along the edges of the curtains and pulled them back, covering the windows. When they returned to his wingspan, he stepped back and monitored the fire briefly.

While cleaning, you had learned there was a cellar and partial second story, as well as an indoor bathroom. It seemed that the main use of the generator was to power the water heater and indoor plumbing.

The cellar was small, down a short flight of stairs, with concrete floors and walls, the perfect size for containing a month's worth of food and supplies, far more than was necessary for just a week.

The second story was a loft that oversaw the living room, giving a great view of the fireplace. There was no safety railing on the upstairs, likely for the very obvious fact that Hawks could fly. There was, at least, a staircase.

Upstairs, there was a large bed frame with a plush mattress, wrapped up tight to protect from dust, a large chest pressed up against the wall, and a desk without a chair.

After he removed the bed cover, you watched Hawks pull neatly folded blankets and pillow cases out the chest. It was fascinating to see someone, who normally slept wherever his body landed, so meticulously prepare the bedding: layers and layers of blankets, followed by dressing the pillows and laying them out.

It was especially perplexing because of the intense, concentrated look on his face. He had been so focused that he hadn't even realized that you had paused what you were doing to watch him.

Luckily, you caught yourself staring before he did, and shuffled back downstairs before he could notice.

A sudden howling had startled you, before a sharp wind rattled against the shutters. Something was thumping gently against the roof and when the wind picked up, you could almost hear the trees shuddering outside.

"It's snowing," Hawks observed, suddenly at your side.

You could see a glimpse of crimson in the corner of your eye, and realized he had a wing fanned out around you, not quite close enough to touch, but hovering. Maybe, he hadn't even realized he was doing that.

"Oh," you answered quietly.

Together, you prepared dinner, settling for a classic favorite of his: yakitori chicken and stir fry noodles.

Eating dinner together, and talking about nothing, made you realize, it had been the first time in a long time, if ever, that you hadn't discussed work: nothing about the agency, nothing about heroes or villains, nothing about police business or missions.

It was just senseless conversations that amounted to nothing.

The dining table was small and the floor was cold; but, your hands brushed constantly due to the lack of space. It made you realize that you had longed to have this type of moment with him, something so utterly domestic.

"I know it's not super late," Hawks began, on his way to the kitchen with the dirty plates. "But, I'm gonna wake you up early; so, let's get to bed, okay?"

His voice was soft, surprisingly drowsy, you realized, and he continued, "it's - well, there's something I wanna show you, and it looks best in the sunrise."

He had started the dishes before you could; so, you stepped in close, deciding to tease him a little.

"I bet you do look best in the sunrise," you uttered, leaning against the counter top near the sink, where he had busied his hands. He was looking away from you; but, you could see his lip twitch into a faint smile.

Hawks laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Not me," he replied softly. Yet, he found himself feeling enamored with the knowledge that that was where your mind had wandered first.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" you offered, standing upright and shifting away from the counter.

"Nah," he replied simply. "I'll join ya' in a bit."

You changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth and pulled your hair back, before heading upstairs. Blankets and pillows were stacked high on top of the mattress, making the bedframe disappear beneath it.

It not only looked incredibly warm, but incredibly soft, and an inspection with your hand, smoothing over the surface, confirmed that. There were several pillows pressed against the headboard and even more at the foot of the bed.

If you hadn't seen him arrange it, you would have doubted it was even Hawks' bed. From the glimpses you had seen into his life, he was a minimalist.

His office at the agency was fairly large, but looked almost comical with the lack of furniture in it. He wasn't one to buy much of anything outside of perishables.

"Take those off."

You had heard that commanding tone many times before; but, in the peace and serenity of this cabin, it startled you. Your shoulders twitched a little and you turned to face him, having not heard Hawks approach.

His gold eyes were glaring at your body, shifting up to meet your gaze when you turned to face him.

You gawked back at him, dumbfounded by his boldness, and a little intrigued, if you were being honest. He had warned you about this, and you were about to comply when his dark expression suddenly softened.

"Oh fuck," Hawks blurted, embarrassment washing over his face. The intensity of the moment dissipated and you found yourself unable to hold back a faint smile at the way his face so rapidly changed from anger to shame.

"Shit - I - sorry - ugh," he stammered, some redness tinting the tops of his ears. His dominant hand came up and ruffled his hair. "That was messed up. Ah - what I mean is, can we sleep naked?"

It was clear he wasn't embarrassed about the request, but the way that he had asked. You couldn't hold back a soft chuckle at his frazzled state.

"Of course," you uttered, and began shedding your clothes.

He was staring at your nudity as if it wasn't something he had seen many times before, as if his hands and mouth hadn't explored every inch of skin, hadn't touched and claimed parts of you your own hands couldn't reach.

It made you feel powerful, beautiful.

"Did you brush your teeth?" you asked, knocking him out of his stupor.

He didn't respond, but made a face that gave you your answer. He turned away then, and hopped over the edge of the loft, floating down into the lower floor, and scurried off to the bathroom.

Promptly, you disappeared beneath the blankets, shivering from the cold, skin prickled with goosebumps. You were about to scold yourself for complying with him so eagerly, without demanding a compromise, mainly that you expected him to warm you up.

Luckily, it didn't take him long to join you, and you suddenly felt a very warm, and very naked, body slot into the space behind you, wiggling beneath the blankets. It was almost concerning how warm he was, like he had just flung himself into the hearth before running back over here.

You rolled onto your back to greet him and Hawks wasted no time slotting over you, tangling legs, arms falling on either side of your head. Wispy bangs fell over his forehead, longer strands catching on his eyebrows.

Your eyes peered over his shoulders, where you could see his wings were fanned out above him, plumes stretched wide, looming possessively. When your gaze shifted to his face, your breath hitched.

His stare was hypnotizing, as if he couldn't believe you were here, gold eyes practically glowing in the dimly lit loft.

It made you sad to think just your presence alone had pleased him so much, whereas nothing else had yet to occur. It made you think of all the years he had to endure this alone, the loneliness far more straining than the lack of a pliant body.

"Hey," he began, voice hoarse, distant.

His dominant hand shifted from the bed to cup your cheek, thumb gently prodding at your cheek bone. Just like the rest of his body, his hand was so warm.

"I know I said I wouldn't let you leave," he explained, fingers sliding carefully across your temple. "But, if you want to, at any time, I'll call the taxi and-"

You leaned up, taking his lips in a gentle kiss to silence him. He moaned into the kiss, clearly surprised by your interruption. His hand departed your face, lowering to caress the side of your neck.

When you pulled back, he chased, not letting you depart from him quite so quickly. The kiss carried on for a short while, Hawks only leaning back when he was satisfied.

"No," you disagreed in a soft hum, hands rising to push strands of his hair out of his face. "I'm not leaving. We're going through this together. Okay?"

He let out a sigh that fluttered across your cheeks. "Okay," he agreed, as if he couldn't believe it.

Hawks shifted until he was lying beside you, one arm loose around your waist. You turned a little to lay on your side and lean into him, cheek falling comfortably into the pillow beneath your head, and felt him nuzzle into your back, bringing you as close as he could without ruining your comfort.

One of his wings folded carefully over you while the other sprawled out across the bed. The light from the fire just barely reached the loft, an amber glow that flickered with the dancing flames.

The sounds of the gentle snowfall outside was a little louder upstairs. One of the nearby windows rattled softly, trembling weakly from the breeze that shook the shutters. The rafters above creaked occasionally in melodic hums.

Behind you, Hawks' chest undulated with his breathing, moving against the skin of your back. His wings shifted ever so slightly in harmony with the expansion and shrinking of his lungs. The longer plumes on the ends twitched occasionally.

"Keigo?" you whispered.

He didn't answer. Judging by the way his arm had slackened where it rested over your waist, you figured he had fallen asleep already.

The bedding was soft, and you had no doubt that he had washed them diligently; yet, mingled with the earthy tones of the cabin, they smelt like him. The hearth crackled distantly, the sound a faint echo through the cabin.

It didn't take long to slip away.

• • •

Sometime in the middle of the night, you were woken by a strange sound. In your groggy state, it sounded like a distant animal cooing into the night.

Once you properly came to, you realized the warmth against your back had retreated. The blanket had been partially ripped away in the process, leaving the skin of your back exposed to the cold air of the cabin.

What had sounded far away you now realized was coming from right behind you, pained little noises and harsh wheezing. You rolled over to take in the sight of Hawks, blindly reaching for him in a moment of panic.

Worry struck you when your skin touched his. He had already been warm to the touch before; but now, his skin felt scorching, sticky with sweat. Your hand had landed on his chest, where you could feel his muscles rapidly rising and falling with each staggering breath.

The noise that had woken you became obvious then; he was panting, sharp and labored breaths that whooshed in and out of him, occasionally accompanied with a quiet, pained sound.

He had shoved the blankets away and was laying on his back, wings tucked in uncomfortably tight beneath him. Through the faint glow of warm light from the fireplace, you could see his chest raising and falling rapidly, head tossed back, face contorted in pain. Some strands of blonde locks were clinging to the sweat soaked skin on his face.

"Keigo - Keigo," you called to him, hands rising to his shoulders so you could shake him.

It wasn't until he jerked suddenly, eyes opening and head whipping towards you, that you realized he had been sleeping. His labored breathing intensified, but only for a second, before he started to calm down.

His gold eyes were glossy for a second, staring at you blindly, before he started to wake properly. His lips were parted, sharp breaths still escaping him in harsh wisps.

"Are you okay?" you whispered harshly. "Are you sick? You look-..."

You could see a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Now, with him leaning up a little, you could see the flush of red tinting his skin, all down his chest and across his cheeks. His shoulder muscles were tight and his wings twitched helplessly beneath him.

"I'm f-fine," Hawks answered, voice low and hoarse. He swallowed roughly. "It's - it's a n-normal side effect."

"You're burning up," you hissed, hands touching his skin so carefully, like you would hurt him if you were too rough. "Are you sure you're okay?" you insisted.

"Just need-" he growled, cutting off as he tried to sit up.

His movement had repositioned your hands, causing them to drag from his shoulders to his chest, less you lose stability and collapse on top of him.

It was a familiar touch, a place you had touched him many times before; yet, he froze suddenly, gaze shifting down to your hands as if they were grounding him to this plane of existence.

Hawks' gold eyes fluttered shut and his pained expression softened. He flopped back on the bed, giving up his attempt to sit up as if he had suddenly lost all strength in his body.

Catching on, you uttered into the cold air, "is that what you need? Keigo, do you want me to-"

"Yes," he answered sharply, hissing through the cold, chilled air. He sounded relieved, thankful that you had offered before he had to ask.

"God, fuck - I - I need you, need to - to - be inside you-"

His babbling briefly ceased when you pushed the blankets off yourself and rolled on top of him, a gesture you had done many times before, now a nearly perfect art.

You watched, hypnotized as Hawks arched his back off the bed and flexed his wings until they were sprawled out on either side of him. The beautiful crimson plumes stretched out across the sheets, shuddering in faint waves that matched his heavy breathings.

In the shift, his cock became pinned against your inner thigh. If you didn't known any better, you would have thought he was prodding you with an iron rod pulled straight from the fires of a forge.

It was unbearably hot, hard as steel and painfully poking against your flesh. You could feel his heartbeat through his cock, throbbing against you as if pleading to be touched.

Arousal had never struck you this hard before, with enough force that it made your never regions throb and chest tighten. Blood rushed to your face so quickly, you briefly feared you would pass out.

Now, hovering, looking down at him, it was almost unbearable. It was clear that Hawks was in pain, and you felt a tinge of guilt at the realization that his state had aroused you.

But, the truth was, he looked stunning.

Maybe it was the red flush staining his skin, or the glisten of sweat, shiny with the reflection of the fire burning in the hearth. Maybe it was the way his gold eyes practically glowed through the darkness, staring up at you like a starving predator, glaring with dangerous intent.

Some sort of inhuman growl escaped him and Hawks grabbed at your meaty hips, roughly pulling you forward. It didn't take you long to figure out what he was doing; but, your attempts to aid were waisted, for he simply dragged you down to his liking, until the heat of your sex collided with his face ungracefully.

The first thing you registered was his mouth kissing sloppily at your sex. His tongue followed, lapping at your folds impatiently before breaching your heat. Hawks was always the kind to give sloppy oral; but, this was something else entirely.

He moaned shamelessly when his tongue registered your taste, hips rising off the bed as if attempting to chase a sensation that wasn't there.

Your hands fall onto the wall, and you tried to keep yourself up; but, he wasn't having it, growling and pulling you back down. It was difficult to not go dead weight when his tongue was lapping at your walls, mouth suctioned around your entrance like he was trying to suck juices from a ripe fruit.

One of your hands weaved through his hair, gently massaging his scalp in a praising gesture. It was difficult to get out sensible words. Instead, you moaned broken pieces of his name, thighs trembling on either side of his head.

You had no idea how much time had passed before he seemed satisfied and finally lifted you up enough to remove his mouth. The wet gasp that escaped him, suggesting he had been holding his breath, riddled you with shameful lust.

"You made a mess," Hawks observed deliriously.

He sounded immensely pleased with himself and even leaned in to take another taste, this time honing in on your pearl. You felt more than heard his pleased chuckle when you whined at the sudden touch.

This time, when he pulled away, he let you retreat. As you shimmied down his body, you caught him wiping your essence off his face with a careful finger before popping it in his mouth.

Hawks' skin was still flushed red, all the way up to his ears; but, now, he looked damn smug to top it all off. You couldn't see the look you were wearing, but you knew by the heat on your face that it was lewd.

The cold of the cabin had been lost to you, especially when you positioned your hips over his and felt the head of his cock nuzzle at your entrance, threatening to breach your core.

Hawks' head fell back into the sheets with a whine, eyes squeezing shut. Tantalized by the sight, you intended to tease him a little; however, he nudged his hips forward with a sudden jerk, effortlessly impaling you on his cock, and taking that opportunity away.

"Ohhh, fuck!" Hawks shouted before sucking his bottom lip beneath his teeth. He released it after letting out a low hiss.

You closed your own eyes for a moment, adjusting to the sudden intrusion of his impressive girth, and felt his hands slowly slide up your thighs into the dips of your hips, slotting over a spot he had practically engraved for himself ever since this began.

When your eyes opened, you looked down and took in the deliriously beautiful look on his face. His thumbs nudged your hip bones pleadingly and his eyes opened, peering up at you through dark lashes.

Forgoing any thoughts about teasing, you planted your hands on his chest and rolled your hips. The motion punched a whine out of him. The sound drawled out into a growl when you kept the rhythm, chasing your own pleasure.

"Yeah," he hummed encouragingly. "Come on. Use me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Just like - ahh - fuck..."

You hardly needed the encouragement; but, the dirty words spewing from his lips further ignited the heat in your belly, and you whined in response.

He could have easily pulled your hips down to intensify the moment. Instead, he lifted his hips off the bed to meet yours, effortlessly matching your movement and chasing the delicious warmth and wetness of your core, while letting his hands hold you gently.

"Baby, do you feel good?" Hawks uttered lowly, his pleading question gently breaking through the moment.

"Y-ye-s, Kei - go," you sobbed, stuttering out your response and groaning halfway through his name.

It was always good; but, something about this moment made it more intense than ever before. You could already feel the sensation rising, thighs trembling every time his cock slid back inside, hitting the perfect spot again and again.

"Yeah?" he hummed, sounding so breathless and fucked out, despite you having just barely begun. "You feel good, so fucking good," he praised between labored pants and low moans.

"You're so fucking good to me," Hawks babbled on, head falling back into the sheets, where he closed his eyes. You watched his adam's apple bob, noticed how tight his jaw was clenched.

A growl vibrated through his chest, followed by a breathless sympathy of curses, "oh fuck - oh fuck. Come on, fuck my cock - yeah - ahhh. Ya' hear that? Those sounds. God, you're so f-fucking perfect."

Your union was loud, skin slapping together and wet, fleshy sounds echoing between the two of you.

His dominant hand released your hip and slid around, thumb prodding between your folds and seeking out your pearl. You were already so sensitive, feeling him so deep, teetering on the edge. When his calloused skin touched that spot, you let out a cry.

"Come on this cock," Hawks groaned. "Sooo close - f-fuck. Come on. Come for me. Fucking come. Gonna fill you up. You want that? My seed. Yeah you fucking d-hnn-"

His babbling ceased when your orgasm took you, the sudden spasms and fluttering of your walls making all sensible thoughts drain from his mind.

His hand returned to your hip, fingers gripping your waist, and he started roughly dragging you up and down to meet his thrusts. You went limp, letting him bounce you on his cock to your liking. Your hands slipped off his chest and you fell onto him, forehead knocking gently against his cheek.

You could hear him huffing and grunting, the occasional growl seeping through, right into your ear as he fucked you through your orgasm, and continued on, chasing his end.

His cock throbbed, firmly enough that you felt it and the sensation startled you a little; but, that thought was lost when he let out an uncharacteristically loud shout, crying out in ecstasy.

Hawks had always been loud; but, this was something else entirely, and the moans and growls didn't stop, along with his undulating hips, for what felt like an eternity.

To top it all off, you could feel it, spurts of his seed, burning hot as it filled you. In the corner of your eye, you could make out his feathers, each and every one trembling beneath him.

Then, finally, he went still.

Hawks' panting filled the room, almost loud enough to drown out the crackling of the fireplace. Even after his panting died down, he let out quiet groans, his orgasm having not yet waned in full.

Eventually, he turned his head and pressed a wet kiss against your cheek. You turned your head to meet him, at first catching the corner of his mouth before he angled his head to kiss you properly.

You could practically feel the praises behind each kiss, thank you's and love pouring from his mouth to yours in a nonverbal gesture. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging your skin but also ensuring that you didn't move and he remained deep inside you.

When he finally released your lips, you busied your hands with his wild mane, gently pushing strands away from his face. He seemed to like the preening, letting his eyes flutter shut and head fall back.

You didn't have to ask if he was feeling better. His all-body, harsh red blush had mellowed out and he wasn't panting like a parched dog.

You hadn't realized you were still trembling until he uttered, "it's okay," in a soothing, worried voice.

His hands shifted to your thighs, where he carefully pushed them back and rolled you onto your side, keeping his cock nuzzled deep. His arms wound around your back, bringing you into an embrace while his wings stretched out behind him before sagging comfortably to the bed.

You realized, as he brought you in, that you were still shaking a little. The worry was evident in his eyes, like he had done something wrong.

"D-do you want me to pull out?" he offered in a weak voice.

"It's not that," you replied softly. "That was... intense."

When your eyes locked with his gold orbs, and he took in the sight of your expression, it seemed to steadily become clear to him, what you were feeling. His lips sought our your skin, senselessly kissing whatever he could reach, all over your cheeks, down your chin and along the expansion of your throat.

Hawks’ head fell onto the pillow and his wispy blonde hair tangled with yours. The unease began to fade away as he held you close, bringing the blanket back over your forms when his intense heat finally started to wane. So did the spell, and something concerning struck him.

"Please, tell me if it gets too intense," Hawks uttered, breath fluttering out against your temple. “I’ll-...”

He cut himself because he wasn’t quite what he would do, what he could do. Could he stop? In this moment of clear thoughts, he sure hoped so. But, part of him feared that wasn’t true, and the last thing he wanted was to lie to you about what he was capable of.

You had figured that he had yet to hit the apex of his rut. Yet, his warnings hadn't frightened you in the slightest, especially after what had just occurred. If anything, you were enticed by it. Maybe, in some strange way, it was affecting you to.

"I can handle you," you promised.

You felt more so than heard the uneasy breath that stuttered out his nostrils. Your words stirred something deep in his gut, overcoming the fear, burning arousal and adoration.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo x you #hawks x reader #hawks smut #takami keigo fanfiction

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skipppppy · 4 years ago

Note

I’m so fascinated by your she ra fan character! I’m trying to understand the storyline but it’s a little hard to find everything, and I was wondering if you would mind explaining it here?

Thank you very much! Her story is SUPER convuluted, I elaborated on it a bit on another ask about her relationship with Entrapta, but I’ll try to sum it up as cleanly as possible but a lot of different factors come into play so it still might be LOOONNGG. It’s also not a very happy story, unfortunately, but it would be helpful for me to get it all written down!

In terms of things that might be triggering, her backstory involves mention of a wide range of abuse. It won’t be explicit but I just want to be safe!

I’m actually gonna put most of it under the cut for the sake of anyone who follows me or any tags so they aren’t cursed with a mile long post on their timeline. I know the pain 😅

So here it is! I present A COMPREHENSIVE TIMELINE OF ALL THE BULLSHIT ARIA HAD TO PUT UP WITH!!!!

-For background context, she’s a Wingfolk, a species of Bird People native to Etheria who live in a kingdom built into a forest of giant trees named Ornithia. I could go on about them for hours but all you really need to know is that they have hollow bones to achieve flight (which is also the case for real life birds), which makes Aria’s body very light and frail. So she’s basically useless in physical combat which is why she never really defends herself. She was also a particularly weak flyer, which is why she doesn’t avoid a lot of situations by simply flying away.

-EXTRA BACKGROUND CONTEXT, Aria was born around the time the Horde landed on Etheria. Her father was a sorcerer at Mystacor, who had a reputation for ignoring ethics in the name of science. This all came to a head when a meteorite struck the surface of the planet; he rushed to the sight, stole it, studied it for a while, and after learning it had a powerful magic, decided to try a ritual in which he extracted the magic from the meteorite and fused it with his daughter’s soul. It took a few years for people to find out but when they did he was exiled for his actions, and Aria, still a child, was given to her mother.

-ONE MORE SMALL DETAIL: from about the age of 18/19 onward, she started having dreams about a mysterious figure made of blinding light who knew secrets about the universe and promised to find her one day so they could “finally be together again.” 3 guesses who THAT is lmao (hint: it’s Horde Prime)

-I won’t go into details about her childhood because we’d be here forever but the most important things you need to know are 1) Aria’s mother was a HORRIBLE parent and preferred to get blackout drunk rather than look after her children. 2) Aria had 4 younger brothers who, due to her mother’s negligence, she had to raise entirely by herself, which is why she feels responsible over others and has such a “nurturing” disposition, it was forced on her. 3) She took her brothers and ran away from Ornithia when she was 15, and built a home in a small woodland in the mountains of Dryl where she has lived ever since. 4) Throughout her childhood she befriended Princess Entrapta and the two were extremely close due to their isolated upbringings.

-When the BFS visited Dryl for the first time in Season 1, Aria was there acting as both a lab assistant and royal advisor to Entrapta, and joined the rebellion alongside her. Nothing crazy happened, but when Entrapta “died” Aria was beside herself with grief and ended up leaving the rebellion in order to go tend to Dryl, since it needed a ruler and as advisor it was her job to step up and take responsibility. Unlike the others, however, she refused to return to aid in the battle of Brightmoon, since she was kinda miffed at how the Princesses treated Entrapta (lookin’ at you, leash lady Perfuma) and was thoroughly pissed that they didn’t even TRY to go back for her, even if it was just to find her body and give her a dignified burial.

-Season 2 was when things truly went to shit. When the Horde came to claim Dryl, Aria resisted but was defeated pretty easily. When Glimmer and Bow came to scout out the situation, they saw her being hauled away and tried to save her but basically got caught in a stalemate where they couldn’t act because the Horde threatened to harm Entrapta if they acted. They told Aria to go with the Horde and promised that they would form a rescue party to save the both of them. But after they learned that Entrapta had joined the Horde by choice and had more important missions to deal with, rescuing her just..stopped being a priority. She wasn’t a rebel so they had no obligation to get her, so eventually they forgot about her entirely.

-Aria was kept as a prisoner for a while, but Entrapta found out pretty quickly what happened and went to find her. At that point Catra was growing frustrated with all the menial paperwork she had to do, and since she’d had experience being an advisor/secretary type, Entrapta basically proposed to Hordak that Aria act as his assistant in the same way she used to at Dryl. He accepted since it meant he would be spending less time running the Horde and more time building the portal. Aria was against the idea of helping him since she was still holding out hope that the rebels would come save her, but she was simply threatened with the classic Evil Horde punishments (torture, more torture, being locked in a cell for weeks without food or water, a tad more torture). So from mid-Season 2 to the end of Season 4, that was pretty much the position she was in. Being the Fright Zone’s resident desk jockey.

-Not much happened in that timespan, most of what occurred revolved around the portal incident and the aftermath. While Aria had been playing the part of Hordak’s pretty little secretary she was trying to find weak points in the Fright Zone’s security system so she could bust her and Entrapta out of there. Due to her and Hordak building the portal (and smooching lol) she’d been spending less and less time with Aria, which had been making her a little upset. She felt like someone she’d spent her entire life caring for was replacing her for something better, but her suspicions weren’t confirmed until she asked Entrapta about leaving together and she refused. That was the first small nudge towards a downward spiral. Then Catra returned with Adora and the Sword in hand and the Princesses came to stop the Portal. The rebels had come to save Adora and forgot about her. She was willing to forgive and join them, until they saw that she had been assisting the Horde, assumed she had betrayed them alongside Entrapta, and decided to leave her behind without giving her a chance to explain herself. That was the second, slightly stronger nudge that made her teeter over the edge of a breakdown. And then Catra told her that Entrapta had abandoned her to rejoin the rebels. While it was a lie, it was perfectly placed salt in the wound, and the straw that broke the camels back into her shifting allegiance and properly joining the Horde.

-Throughout Season 4 she had the same role as before, except this time she actually cared about her work, and had taken on the additional role of helping Hordak with his busted tech since Entrapta wasn’t around to do it. He had already come to rely on Aria for paperwork, but now she was helping him with his machines and they had a shared trauma over being “abandoned” by someone they cared deeply for. She was literally filling the void Entrapta left, and in a way they started to care for each other. Aria, being a hopeless romantic who had read about a trillion love stories about gentle protagonists who healed the evil monster men with their kindness, took to him like a moth to a flame and happily played the role of “the next best thing” against her better judgement. It wasn’t really a healthy relationship, but they did genuinely care for each other and found comfort in one another’s presence.

-It didn’t last, however. Catra was vaguely aware of the “thing” they had, and while she was indifferent for the most part, she was dealing with a downward spiral of her own, and she slowly became paranoid that Aria would distract him from completing their plans. In her poor, burnt out kitty cat frame of mind, the only way to deal with the situation was to get rid of her. So, deciding to kill 2 birds with one stone, she told Hordak that Aria had been jealous of his relationship with Entrapta, and SHE had been the one to send her to beast island. And Hordak believed her.

-I won’t go into detail about what happened after that, because it was VERY GRUESOME! We all saw how Hordak reacted when he found out what Catra had done in the original show. Now remember when I mentioned that Aria has hollow bones that made her incredibly frail and physically incapable of defending herself? Yeah. It was not pretty. Hordak wasn’t completely at fault, since he thought his anger was warranted, but by the time he’d learnt the truth and realised his mistake she was dead. In the space between the incident and learning what really happened he’d thrown her in the abandoned black garnet chamber with no food or water and basically left her to rot. He was EXTRA mad at Catra for pulling that with him, but he didn’t have time to grieve since he, Glimmer, Catra, and Aria’s lifeless corpse were beamed up into Horde Prime’s flagship.

-When Prime initially found her she was still dead. However, remember the healing magic that came from the mysterious meteorite that had now fused with her soul? Spoiler alert! It belonged to him. The meteorite was one of his most prized possessions, and the dreams Aria had been having were the magic’s attempts at trying to establish a connection with him across dimensions. (the meteorite was somewhat sentient. This is perfectly normal and well thought out writing I swear) And being reunited caused a huge surge of magical energy that resuscitated her, allowing Prime’s clones to give her some much needed medical help.

-After being pretty much comatose for 2 weeks Aria finally woke up, and was finally able to speak with Prime in person. When she found out that the “mysterious figure” from her dreams who had promised to find her was REAL and had just saved her life, she basically just latched onto him. She was, understandably, TRAUMATISED from the last 2 or so years of her life, so she was too scared to go anywhere else or trust anyone, so Prime didn’t even have to try to win her allegiance. He was also very happy to have his meteorite back, even if it now had a mortal body with skin and a face and a slew of emotional baggage. So she spends most of Season 5 being showered in love and affection by Prime and all her attendants, eventually being crowned Empress. While Prime was unequivocally evil and Aria was aware of that, he mostly sheltered her from what he was doing, in fear that her loyalty to him might falter. Maybe in a fun au she could’ve convinced him to leave Etheria alone so they could be together for longer, but alas, it was not to be.

-In the aftermath of the Heart being destroyed and Prime being killed, her downward spiral returned and shifted into OVERDRIVE. The people who had abandoned and neglected her took her one safe person away from her and they were being hailed as heroes for it. While she now knew that Entrapta had never abandoned her and was instead sent to beast island, seeing her get a happy ending with the man who had, to be quite blunt, physically abused and assaulted her, shattered any part of their friendship that might have been recoverable. She retreated into herself, taking over Horde Prime’s role as ruler over the Clones. She turned the Velvet Glove into their new home, trying to be civil with the other Princesses but eventually descended into a cold, bitter, vindictive Empress who ended up making terrible decisions as a cry for help.

-I’m still undecided on what to do with her after her fun villain arc, but I do know that in the aftermath she’d probably either step down from the throne so she could properly heal from her trauma, or work with her clones to fix up Prime’s flagship and get as far away from Etheria as possible and find peace in a new life away from everything that hurt her. I may also bring back Horde Prime from the dead through my sheer will to ignore canon so they can be together, since they are for all intents and purposes, soulmates. And I don’t think it would be very fair to let my poor hopeless romantic who just wants to be loved lose her handsome prince forever. I think it would be sexy if I committed necromancy I think.

ANYWAY...THAT WAS A HEFTY READ..SORRY IT WAS SO LONG, BUT THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! I CAN COME BACK TO THIS FOR REFERENCE NOW

TLDR: babygirl has had it ROUGH

#spop oc #she ra oc #aria

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bloodfromthethorn · 3 years ago

Text

Bridal Carry

Hiking trips are more hazardous than Riley remembers them being. At least she has Jack there to make her rescue feel as awkward as humanly possible.

Part two of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge (although this one is much more fluff than whump, oops).

Also on AO3.

“This is undignified.”

“You’re the one who had to go and break your ankle, you can’t blame me for this.”

“It’s not broken. And you could at least pretend like you’re not enjoying yourself.”

“Ri, you know I’d do anything for you, but carrying you down a mountain is not really what I’d consider a good time.” Jack let that settle for a moment, then shot her a vaguely wounded look. “And you know I’m never happy to see you hurt.”

Even still blushing faintly in embarrassment, Riley couldn’t help but feel a thrill of guilt trickle down her spine. She knew Jack was likely more unhappy about her ankle than she was – when she’d first fallen he’d gone white with panic until he’d ascertained that she hadn’t actually done herself mortal injury. His worry had been genuine enough that she hadn’t had the heart to play it up in a way she might have done with Mac or Boze.

“I know,” she grumbled quietly, unwilling to entirely let go of her displeasure. There really wasn’t a lot of dignity in being carried back to the car like a baby. “I’m still unhappy about it.”

Jack snorted as he stepped carefully over some stones littered along the path. He didn’t seem burdened by her weight in the slightest; Riley knew she wasn’t exactly heavy, but this seemed a little bit extreme.

“Well I’m not exactly thrilled. What was your plan, scampering up that gravel mountain? Thing looked like danger a mile off.”

“It was hardly a mountain,” she contested, not for the first time. “I just wanted to see if I could see back to the river from there.”

“And could you?”

There was a huffy pause. “I didn’t get the chance to find out.”

“Because the gravel mountain collapsed on you.”

Riley shot him a dirty look that he utterly ignored. He’d become immune to her stink eye approximately twenty minutes into knowing her and it seemed like a decade apart had done nothing to blunt his familiarity.

“I didn’t look where I was putting my feet, that’s all.”

“I saw you looking plenty. You kept looking right up until the ground fell out from under you.”

He sounded vaguely like a parent delivering some sort of life lesson to a wayward toddler and it was doing nothing for Riley’s discomfort. She barely resisted the urge to cross her arms. There was nothing she could do about the huff though.

Jack glanced down at her, taking in the downcast eyes and blushing cheeks, and sighed to himself. “I’m not mad, Ri,” he informed her gently, returning his attention to the uneven track they were following. The last thing they needed was for him to turn his ankle over too. “I just get worried when you get hurt. I hate seeing you in pain.”

Riley’s annoyance immediately faded again at the reminder, and she rolled her eyes to allay Jack’s concern. “I’m not really hurt, Jack,” she reassured. “Can barely even feel it anymore.”

“You can’t feel it because you haven’t had to put weight on it for twenty minutes. I’m not letting you even think about walking until someone in Phoenix med has given you a look over.”

Whatever sympathy Riley might have been feeling vanished in an instant and she shot him a disbelieving look. “No way.”

“Uh, yes way? That thing could be broken for all you know. I’m not about to just drop you off at home with a pack of frozen peas and call it good.”

“That is exactly what you’re going to do,” she shot back firmly. “It’s just a sprain! You are not dragging me into work on a Sunday for something that I won’t even remember tomorrow.”

Jack rolled his eyes, undeterred from his steady trek back the way they’d come. He didn’t even have the courtesy to be out of breath. “You can’t walk on it. That’s not the kind of thing you just ignore.”

“It’s a sprain!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had a portable x-ray machine tucked into your rucksack,” Jack shot back drily, hefting the thing swung over his shoulder to prove his point. “Is that why this thing’s so heavy?”

She firmly ignored the comment about the backpack – he’d been entirely unfazed at the idea of carrying both of their packs and her all the way back down the trail they’d just spent an hour hiking up so he could just suck it up. “I’d know if it was broken,” she said instead. “I would have heard it.”

“Not necessarily,” He said smartly, visibly gearing up for yet another life lesson. “You’ve not had anywhere near as many broken bones as I have – thankfully – so you’ve still got a lot to learn. Rule one is that they don’t always make a sound.”

“I’ve broken my wrist before. I remember what that felt like and this is nothing like that.”

“Rule two,” he continued without slowing down, “Is that all broken bones are different and what you might remember from one doesn’t necessarily apply to another. Rule three-”

“Okay, god, please just stop.” Jack broke off with a wide grin and Riley couldn’t help but roll her eyes fondly in return. “You win okay? I’ll let a doctor check me out. But we’re not going to Phoenix for it. There’s a clinic two blocks down from me that’ll do just fine.”

“You’d really rather sit in a waiting room for three hours with me hovering over your shoulder than just head to the place where you’ll get seen immediately and no one will ask you any questions?”

“It’s not like we were doing anything covert. We were hiking in the woods for god’s sake.”

“Okay, fair point. That still leaves the waiting room.”

Riley bit her lip for a moment, then decided she might as well come clean. “I don’t want a report ending up on Matty’s desk about that time I fell over and twisted my ankle.”

To her surprise, Jack didn’t laugh. He didn’t even look like he was trying not to, although to be fair he was good at hiding things like that. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he shrugged. “What? I’ve been there. I get why you’re worried but honestly, there’s nothing to stress about. Matty hears about all kinds of stuff way worse than this and she never even blinks – ask Mac about that time he broke his wrist in two places coming off a surfboard. That was back in Thornton’s days, but man you should have seen the look on her face! Mac looked like a kid trying to pretend the window broke itself and he had nothing to do with it.”

Riley could definitely picture it. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“So the worst that’s going to happen here is Matty’s going to give you a despairing look, and then we’ll all get on with our day. And besides, going to a different clinic isn’t going to make a lick of difference. You really think Matty’s not going to hear about it anyway? I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t already know and had an ambulance waiting for us back at the car.”

Something very suddenly occurred to her and she looked up at him wild-eyed. “You didn’t call her, did you?”

He snorted. “No way, that’s a conversation for you to have with her. I’m not getting in the middle of it.”

“I thought you said I didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, you don’t. But as soon as Matty finds out I was inside a ten-mile radius she’ll blame it all on me and that woman is scary when she’s on the warpath.”

Riley rolled her eyes again, finally starting to feel vaguely settled in her perch of Jack’s arms. It still wasn’t exactly comfortable – there was only so much he could do to minimise the sway of his gait and the summer sunshine was doing nothing to offset their shared heat where they were pressed together – but Jack’s insistence of acting like everything was normal was oddly soothing. He made it seem entirely natural that he should be carrying her when she couldn’t walk herself and it was hard not to copy that same mannerism.

“Okay, fine, if it’ll make you happy, we can go to Phoenix med. It wasn’t your fault though,” She pointed out lightly.

“That usually doesn’t seem to matter. And it’s kind of my fault. It was my idea to come out here.”

“And it was my idea to climb up a stupid gravel pile. You had nothing to do with it.”

Jack hummed discontentedly. “I could have stopped you from trying it. I knew it would end badly.”

“You assume everything will end badly.” She twisted the arm she had wrapped around the back of Jack’s neck to press her palm flat to his shoulder like she could somehow infuse her sincerity that way. “You can’t protect me from everything. Certainly not my own stupidity.”

He paused for a moment to properly look at her, his eyes darting to her traitorous ankle for just a moment before reseeking the honesty in her eyes. Whatever conclusion he came to, his hands on her tightened ever so slightly. “I can try.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling. “I know you will.” There was a pause then, as she fought to battle down a decade of hurt-disguising-itself-as-anger to quietly murmur, “Thank you for that.”

“Always,” was his immediate response. “I wish you didn’t make it so hard for me, but I’ll protect you from anything for as long as I’m able. And longer if I can. That’s my job, remember?”

“I thought your job was protecting Mac.”

“Him too. Truth be told, he’s a thousand times more difficult to watch than you. You’ve at least got some sense when it comes to things like running towards explosions and mixing unidentified chemicals. But you’re part of that too now, Ri. I’m your Overwatch as much as his.”

It was raw and honest and probably everything she’d been waiting to hear since she was thirteen and suddenly without a father again. She had no idea how she was supposed to react. In the end, all she could manage was gripping sharply at the hand tucked under her knees like it was all that was tethering her to reality.

He gripped back just as tightly so perhaps he understood after all.

A long minute passed in silence as Jack carefully wound his way down the path. Even with her weight, the downward slope meant that he was making better time than the pair of them had on the way up. By Riley’s reckoning, they’d be back within another fifteen minutes.

That knowledge in hand, she cast about for another, less sensitive subject, and almost immediately hit upon something sure to get Jack talking normally again. She grinned at him. “So if this is what an Overwatch does for someone with a twisted ankle, does that mean you’ve carried Mac around like a damsel in distress?”

Jack’s laugh was bright, entirely free of the seriousness of their previous exchange. “Once,” he managed after his initial laugh had died down. His face was still broken open in a broad grin. “That kid is far too heavy for it though. He might look like he’s wasting away but he’s tricky like that – nearly put my back out last time I tried something that wasn’t a fireman’s carry. Ingrate couldn’t stop laughing at me for three days.”

He didn’t put much effort into trying to sound offended, too busy smiling fondly.

Riley smiled right back. “Well, a man of your age, you do need to watch out for things like that.”

“A man of my-” He shook his head in faux disbelief, the smile not budging. “Sure,” he said in the face of her laughter, “Mock the person trying to get you out of here in one piece. Maybe I’ll just put you down on that rock over there and head home myself. Leave you behind to look after yourself.”

“You could,” she agreed amiably, still grinning brightly. “You won’t though.”

Jack shot her a dry look, but his eyes were shining in the sunlight and Riley felt warm all the way down to her bones. Her ankle barely even twinged.

“Yeah, you’re right. I won’t.”

#MacGyver #jack dalton #riley davis #hurt riley davis #fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #whump of july 2021

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dickspeightjrs · 4 years ago

Text

Hope (2.2k words)

sequel to Despair (I’d recommend reading that first, it’s only short)

Chuck had been defeated.

Cas was still gone.

Those were the thoughts going through Dean’s head since the day they managed to remove Chuck from the universe for good.

As usual for Dean, he kept on a front for the sake of Sam and Jack. He showed his relief at Chuck finally being gone, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, he was overwhelmed with a fresh onslaught of despair.

The day Chuck died, everyone who he had taken appeared outside the bunker. It seemed as if Chuck had been playing with them like toys and dropped them as he met his demise in the warded bunker dungeon.

Dean, Sam and Jack had stepped outside the sheltered door of the bunker to find a sea of people going on for what seemed like miles. Many of them were strangers who were innocent to the reason for their disappearance. But peppered around were also their friends and family.

Bobby. Charlie. Donna. So many more.

Only, as he scanned through the array of faces, Dean couldn’t help but be more and more disappointed that Castiel wasn’t among them. Why would he be? His death wasn’t anything to do with Chuck. Though it didn’t stop Dean hoping.

It was a few days until everything settled again.

The boys helped people return to their homes and tried to give them an explanation that wouldn’t be too traumatising. Sam had led the way - he seemed born for it, being a leader. His soft demeanour despite his towering height made people warm to him. Especially compared to Dean’s stormy face and body language.

Jack still stayed quiet most of the time. Poor kid was taking Castiel’s death hard. Dean honestly regretted being so tough on him at times. He regretted saying Jack wasn’t family. He was. Of course he was. Castiel loved Jack like a son and that made Dean love him now too.

There were times during the busyness of the bunker that Dean and Jack’s eyes would meet and he’d give Dean a look that told him that he was thinking of Cas too. That he missed him too.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the people inhabiting the bunker were gone and it was left in a more calming silence.

Donna and Charlie had just left together, both giving Dean an extra hard squeeze as they said goodbye. He knew what the hug was for and he was grateful neither of them had brought up Cas while they’d been there. Dean didn’t know how he would have reacted.

Once the two women were out of sight, Dean hunched even further into himself and mumbled to Sam that he was going to bed. He didn’t care that it was the middle of the day. He was exhausted and needed refuge from his thoughts.

Sam responded with a look of shock, which Dean wasn’t surprised by. Dean hadn’t slept properly - as properly as a hunter could anyway - since Cas died. Instead, he’d fall asleep in the library while he’d been looking through lore books.

(Sam and Jack thought he’d been helping to look for ways to bring down Chuck but he’d actually been looking up anything that might even slightly mention the Empty. He’d thought he’d been secret about it until one day he woke up to find a new book on the table next to him, open to a chapter on a possible way to summon the Empty. Dean didn’t know who put it there, Sam or Jack, but he was grateful for their quiet support.)

Dean trudged tiredly to his room. Truthfully, he’d been avoiding it ever since Cas died. It wasn’t even like they’d spent much time in there together but he couldn’t handle being alone in a space that was meant to bring him joy and comfort knowing that he’d never see Cas again.

He’d never had the chance to feel the angel lying next to him and yet he missed it with his entire being.

Dean’s head ached with a consistent, dull pain. It had been constant since he’d started visiting the woods to speak to Cas. He’d only been back there a couple of times but the night before they killed Chuck, Dean had vowed to Cas that he’d do it and get it right this time. He still looked around for any sign that Cas had heard him but there was nothing. Only the beginnings of a throbbing headache.

Blinking slowly and shaking his head slightly to try to relieve the pain, Dean finally collapsed onto the bed and let sleep take him.

Sleep started as a dreamless slumber but, at some point in the night, he felt that same pain again like a punch through his brain. It woke him up, panting and sweating, but when he sat up the pain was gone. And with no memory of what he could have been dreaming about, Dean lay there fighting the spindled fingers of sleep around his mind, determined that he’d never sleep again if it meant not having to feel that pain.

Of course, it was impossible to maintain having no sleep, even for Dean Winchester - King of sleep deprivation.

The minute Dean fell into a deep sleep he would be shocked back awake with a burning pain in his head.

This continued for almost a week after Chuck’s death. Until one night, when Dean shot up in bed, sweat cooling on his skin, he remembered.

He’d dreamt about the woodland clearing he’d been buried in when Cas had returned him from hell. The dream felt so real it was like he could smell, touch, taste the Earth around him as he ripped himself from the ground.

Cursing his mind for adding to his never-ending torture, Dean left his room and got himself some coffee from the kitchen - determined not to let himself fall asleep again until he absolutely had to.

Dean reached his breaking point a few days later.

He’d been tired and irritable, snapping at Sam and Jack whenever they so much as looked at him. Knowing he couldn’t continue living like this, he let sleep take him once more, bracing himself for the inevitable pain.

The pain came, but not before Dean saw fleeting images of the woodland again. Only this time, it was like he was a bird flying high above and he could see fallen tree trunks arranged in almost perfect circles. And in the centre was a figure, a person, hunched over on bent knees as if they were praying.

The person moved to stand on their feet and as they were about to turn a white, burning heat coursed through Dean’s head.

The pain didn’t shock Dean anymore but the recurring image of the hunched figure replayed in his mind.

Dean thought what he’d been seeing in his dreams had been disjointed memories of the time he pulled himself out of that grave. But it couldn’t have been. There was never anyone else there when he’d risen to the surface. He’d walked for miles with no soul in sight.

So who was this hunched figure? Why was Dean dreaming of them?

And why was every fibre of Dean’s being telling him to get in his car and drive all night until he reached that very spot?

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, Dean climbed out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen.

When he arrived he was surprised to see Sam sitting at the table with a pot of coffee, freshly brewed if the rolling steam coming off it was anything to go by.

“What’re you doing here, Sammy?” Dean asked, taking a seat opposite his brother.

Sam pushed a cup of coffee towards Dean. “Waiting for you.”

“Okay… trying not to be creeped out that you’re sat waiting for me in the kitchen at 3AM…” Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you. You’ve been avoiding me and Jack for weeks now. And I noticed you come in here at night sometimes. So I took a chance tonight.”

Curse his brother for knowing him so well.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man.” Dean shrugged.

“How about the truth?”

Ha. There was no way Dean was ever telling Sam the truth. If nothing else, Cas deserved to be the first person Dean told about his feelings. And if he never got the chance to do that, well, the secret would die with Dean.

But Dean really did want Sam’s opinion on the dreams he’d been having. Telling Sam about the dreams didn’t count as telling him the whole truth, did it?

Dean cleared his throat. “I’ve been having these… dreams, I guess.” He sighed. “I just keep seeing the forest where Cas left me when he raised me from hell. But it’s not a memory because it’s like I'm seeing it from above and there’s this person there.”

Sam nodded, encouraging Dean to continue.

“I don’t know if I’m just going crazy but it feels real. Like something deep inside me is telling me that this is important.” Dean avoided Sam’s gaze. “And I get these pains in my head, it’s fucking agony.”

After a few moments of silence, Dean raised his head to meet Sam’s eyes.

They held nothing but warmth for his older brother.

“Look, Dean, I know you haven’t told me and Jack the whole truth of what happened when Cas d-, when he left, but I know more than anyone what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

Dean felt all the blood in his body rush to his face.

“Come on, Dean. You can’t be surprised that I know how you feel about Cas. Anyone who has ever seen you two together knows that you’d tear apart the Earth for each other.” Sam stated, simply.

Suddenly, Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t deal with this knowledge that apparently everyone had known about his and Cas’ mutual feelings before they even did.

He got up from the table and stalked to the door, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

Sam just let him go but just as Dean was about to escape to the quiet of his room, he spoke up.

“Dean?” Sam asked, waiting for Dean’s attention to turn back on him. “Those dreams you’ve been having? I don’t know if it’s the same but I just know that I thought the visions I had of Jess were just dreams and I’d hate for you to make the same mistakes I did.”

Dean swallowed and nodded once at Sam before exiting to his bedroom.

Within the hour he was hurtling along the highway in the Impala.

* * *

Dean’s skin tingled with electricity as he approached the clearing. He hadn’t been back here since that day all those years ago.

He didn’t know what he hoped to find. For the entire journey there, he’d second guessed himself a million times but ultimately he had to know.

He had to know if he was simply going crazy or if this was some kind of sign of something else at work.

Finally, he made it to the large expanse of fallen trees. The electricity running through his veins increased as he spotted a figure sat in the dead centre, curled in on itself.

His heart raced to a speed he would surely die from but Dean kept carefully placing one slow foot in front of the other.

Until he heard a crack under his foot.

He looked down to see that he’d stepped on a twig, which snapped under the pressure, sending a ripple of sound across the clearing.

The hunched figure went ramrod straight where they were.

Dean swallowed and continued walking ahead.

Only, he was stopped in his tracks when the figure turned, a slow agonising turn.

Dean felt sick. He’d come this far thinking, hoping, praying that this would somehow be something that led him back to Cas. But what if he had come all this way only to be disappointed? He didn’t think he could handle the heartbreak.

Taking a deep breath, Dean closed his eyes and stayed rooted to the spot.

“Dean?”

Dean felt euphoria storm through his every atom.

He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Castiel, angel of the lord, standing in the middle of fallen trees, staring back at Dean like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

Wasting no more time, Dean broke into a sprint, running faster than he was sure he’d ever done before.

Self-doubt tried to battle its way through, telling him that this was a trick. Castiel couldn’t possibly be back. But he ignored it.

Dean could have been running into the arms of a devil in disguise and he’d still do it just to have one second in Castiel’s embrace.

When he reached Cas he pulled the angel as close to his body as could be physically possible.

“Dean.” Castiel spoke again. And, god, Dean could have cried hearing his name come from the lips of his beloved once again. “Dean. I’m sorry.”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, still holding Cas tight in his arms. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I just didn’t know what else to do.” Castiel sobbed against Dean’s shoulder.

“I don’t care. I don’t care.” Dean said, sternly, gripping Castiel against him. “I could barely let myself hope that those dreams were you, Cas. You have no idea how fucking happy I am right now.”

Castiel pulled away from Dean slightly to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t find any other way to find you Dean. I wasn’t even sure you’d still be alive. I used the last of my powers to project myself into you. I didn’t truly know if it would work but I hoped.” Tears poured down his face. “Coming back here was the only place I knew that you’d recognise was ours.”

“It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay. I’m here now. And neither of us are going anywhere without the other again.”

Castiel nodded and smiled, placing a delicate hand to Dean’s cheek. “Is it too much to hope that this means I was wrong, and you do actually return my feelings?”

A laugh ripped through Dean in a way that it hadn’t in years, even before Cas had been taken by the empty. “Castiel, angel of the lord, ever since you saved me from hell, I’ve never been the same. You changed me. And I am hopelessly and completely in love with you.”

Not letting a second more go to waste, Dean didn’t wait for a response from Cas. He pulled the angel into a deep kiss that he hoped told Castiel everything that there weren’t enough words in the world to say.

(Tag list below - if you’d like to be added or removed, let me know!)

@rambleoncas @eccentriccas @joharvele @tearsofgrace @starrynightdeancas @aurastiel @dreamnovak @good-things-do-happen-dean @ccstiel @destielle @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @bend-me-shape-me

@thechaosthatismybrain @rusted-peopleskills @castiel-enthusiast @wheniwrite28 @fandomsofafeather @ripreptaytion @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @writtenmemxries @gum-believable @breathingdestiel @squintingg

@thefourthheadofcerberus @professorerudite @harmonyhelms @babyinabelstaf @monipotty @tinyroolove7

#destiel #destiel fic #destielfanficnet #dean winchester #castiel #myfic #i'll tag properly later #just wanted this out before the ep tonight #it's not proofread and im not sure i like it so enjoy i guess lmao #fluff #angst #sad #canon #2k

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butterfrogmantis · 3 years ago

Photo

Woah uh been a while since I did any genuine AU worldbuilding/scenario work huh?

This was promised to a user on DA because they were curious about the illness I mentioned in this post: Dads by Butterfrogmantis on DeviantArt (and I didn't forget, just got distracted by the Wiki stuff and writing XD)

But yeah, basic jist is poor old Tracky here accidentally inhaled some bad bad spores. Dreamy, naturally, was absolutely distraught, and on top of handling his own stress was trying to carefully keep Rover from becoming too distressed as wee Rovey certainly didn't like seeing his dad that way. Actually, Rover suffered some pretty bad separation anxiety & attachment issues to Tracker as a child, perhaps subconsciously remembering this incident (which happened when he was a toddler.) Rover's fine now as a teenager/adult, although he's still very close to Tracker, and has possibly one of the strongest parents-child bonds in the NG ^^

The Sleeping Death plant has been removed from the Smurfs forest, and they know what it looks like now at least, so there will be no further instances (plus they have spare antidote jussst in case)

Writing extract + additional note under the cut

“Hey Tracky, I just put Rovey down for the night”

Dreamy walked over to the bed, and knelt down beside it. His husband lay in it, as cold and pale as he had been for the last week.

“You know he uh … he sounds just like you when he laughs”

Dreamy swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to respond in this state, Papa Smurf had told him as much, but he still felt as though he needed to talk, in case there was even the slightest chance Tracker would be able to hear him. He knew it was probably all for nought. According to Papa’s books, Dreamy’s spouse had accidentally inhaled the spores from the Sleeping Death plant, an invasive herb foreign to their forest, known for inducing it’s victims in a death-like state for up to 6-8 weeks before the real mortality kicked in.

It had started with Tracker saying he had a headache one evening, and that he wanted an early night. When Dreamy gone up that night to sleep himself, he found the other Smurf totally unresponsive, but breathing. Over the past 7 days, Tracker had become paler, and strange purple marks had begun to appear in random blotches over his skin. Papa had assured him this illness wasn’t contagious, but Dreamy didn’t want to risk upsetting their young Smurfling, so had done his best to keep Rover’s visits with Tracker brief, hoping each day that Marco Smurf was closer to bringing home the cure from the Sleeping Death plant’s homeland.

He knew hope wasn’t totally lost, Marco had set sail the very day Tracker was diagnosed, but the antidote’s native country was many miles away, and there was always the possibility for bad weather or pirates that could mean unexpected delays. All Dreamy could do in the meantime was hope. Hope and attend to his own duties, and remind himself that Marco was the best sailor he knew – even better than himself in some regards.

“Marco’s coming soon” Dreamy said out loud, to reassure himself more than anything.

Tracker of course, did not react, his only movements being the rise and fall of his shallow breaths. The sailor felt his eyes well up, and he blinked fiercely, the hot tears running down his cheeks as he gently lay his hand atop the duvet. Tracker was such a lively Smurf, always so full of passion and enthusiasm. Seeing him like this was … distressing. This was Dreamy’s best friend, the Smurf he loved more than all the stars in the night sky. A life without Tracker would be no life at all, least not for him.

Dreamy leant over and pressed a very gentle kiss to his husband’s forehead. It was icy, and nothing like the warmth he knew and missed.

“Marco’s coming soon” He whispered, repeating his earlier statement “He’ll make you better. You’ll get better soon, you’ll see…” *** Fear not!! The ending of that sounds ominous but it's all good lmao. It was a bit of a close call but Marco makes it! Tracker gets the antidote and after a couple of days is able to open his eyes again, another day and he can very croakily talk (He asks for Rover) and after about 2 weeks is back to normal-ish, although does have some mobility issues after being bed bound for so long, plus he lost a lot of weight being unable to eat properly during that time, but within a few months it's like he was never ill, and good old Tracker is back to normal And Dreamy can finally sleep in his own beds again, he basically spent almost a month curled up on the floor because he refused to leave Tracker's side unless he absolutely had to. Dreamy and Tracker (C) The Smurfs

#smurfs #the smurfs #my art #Butterverse #gonna use that as a tag now lmao #trackerxdreamy

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wastelandlovingscenarios · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! Can I request the companions reacting to a cute, sleepy female sole who suddenly becomes affectionate (through words or actions)? Pls make them have a huge crush on the ss ^.^

so cute! i love all your requests! (i’m not proud of this(?)) ❤️

“how much farther is diamond city?” sole whined loudly. she didn’t mean to complain, really, but the fact that she’s been on her feet nonstop for 3 days and getting only 4 hours of sleep every night had been killing her. of course, he noticed this and wanted her to catch more z’s but they were definitely vulnerable and short on time, so they had no choice but to keep pushing. he shot her a glance and noticed how exhausted she looked, sole looked like she could barely even hold a gun properly. “we can always stop by a shack or something.” hearing this, soles head shot up, a relieved sigh escaping her mouth. “well, what are we waiting for then?” he yelped as sole grabbed his hand, running to the nearest building they could find, “h-hey! slow down!”

soon enough, they had both settled down in a small house they had found not even a mile away and dusted off the beds that had been laying there for god knows how long. sole stretched tiredly as she made her way to her companion, who gazed out the window for any nearby enemies. he felt his bed sink as she sat next to him, letting out a yawn. “you should really be getting some sleep,” he muttered, “ill keep watch for tonight.” he was expecting her to head back to her own bed but little did he know, it was the quite opposite of what she was told to do.

Danse:

danse felt his body stiffen as sole rested her head on his shoulder, a choked sound escaping his mouth. “hey, w-what are you doing?! this is inappropriate..!” flustered was an understatement this man was feeling. his heart was thumping inhumanely loud, and he felt like he was gonna pass out any minute. “sorry,” sole sleepily murmured, “i just like having you ‘round me..” he wanted to chide her so bad, but something in him wanted to push her to say more, “i-i, um,-“ he cleared his throat, embarrassed, “am i able to know w-why?”

“i dunno,” god, her voice was so soft when she was sleepy, “i feel safe around you.” he felt his face flush 50 different shades of red as he stuttered, “i-i’m glad i make you feel that way..” he allowed his shoulders to relax as she began to drift off to sleep, her voice getting quieter by the second,

“you make me feel more than that, yknow..?” danse felt his body grow rigid as her words repeated in his head, “what do you mea-“ before he could finish his sentence, sole had fallen asleep against him within no time. as bad as he wanted to wake her up to find out the real meaning behind that message, he decided it was a conversation for another day. for now, her words imprinted on his mind, keeping him wide awake for the rest of the night.

Deacon:

he observed how sole laid on his bed and moved into a somewhat fetal position, her eyes not budging from a certain spot in front of her. out of curiosity, he followed her line of vision and realized that she had been staring at his hands, which were currently fiddling with the gun. with a confused look on his face, he joked, “what? are you into hands or something, charmer?” sole let out a soft chuckle as she used an elbow to prop herself up and punched deacon playfully on the arm. “you’re so stupid deacon,” she bantered, a soft smile playing on her face, “but i can’t lie, you do have nice hands.” deacon let out a dramatic gasp as his free hand covered his mouth, “and what about the rest of me? i’m hurt.” rolling her eyes, sole lightly brushed her fingers against his knuckles and soon rubbed his fingers with her thumb. “well, i never said anything bad about the rest of you.”

“heh, guess you can’t get enough of me.” he was beyond nervous, and was more than grateful that his sunglasses hid it. he hadn’t felt this kind of feeling since barbara, and knew there was no escape to his attraction for her, no matter how hard he tried.

“yeah, i guess i can’t.” she said as she continued to draw figures on his hand, her eyes growing heavy. he noticed how sole kept waking up, trying to keep her hand on his as she (unsuccessfully) fought her sleep. with a small smile, deacon laced his fingers with hers as she slowly fell into a deep slumber. his eyes fixated on their intertwined hands, wanting to take in the sensation just a little longer. oh man, he was so ready to tease sole about this the next morning.

Hancock:

he felt arms wrap around his torso from behind and was nearly shocked at the sudden affection. “sunshine?” he felt her grip tighter onto him, “is there something wrong?” sole shook her head and only spoke softly, “nothings wrong, i just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she nervously tapped her fingers against his abdomen, “i know i’m not the easiest person to travel with, let alone, help every single day.” hancock smiled softly and let out a chuckle, putting his hand on top of hers. “you’re the best person i’ve ever met, and i’d do anything for you. besides, there’s nobody else i’d rather have as my partner.”

“i hope you know i’d do the same for you.” he took in the silence that followed right after, only staring down at her arms that were enveloping him. he enjoyed the feeling of her body against his, and how her arms fit so perfectly around him. after what seemed like forever, sole broke the stillness of the atmosphere. “can we stay like this for a little? i just-“

“no need to explain yourself sunshine, take as long as you please, i don’t mind.” sole only muttered a small, ‘thank you’ as hancock hummed a little tune of approval. he felt soles breath slow down, and he carefully turned around to face her, taking sole into his arms. hancock let out a grin as he moved a piece of her hair out of her face, he never really had the chance to see sole up close, but was glad he was blessed to have that opportunity. hancock placed her onto the bed nearby and sat by her side, her touch still lingering on his torso.

Maccready:

he felt his heart race as he noticed sole staring right at him, a inquisitive look on her face. “uh, what’s up, boss?” maccready began to feel anxious as sole continued to eye him, “um, earth to sole, are you still with me?” sole tilted her head cutely, making maccreadys cheeks turn red. “sorry, it’s not everyday i get to look at you up close,” her eyes fluttered tiredly, “actually, i never had the chance, we never really have time.” she was right, they never really got to see each other eye to eye and this was the very first, and hopefully not the last, time that he’ll get to experience it. he took in her features, and knew that the commonwealth barely had anyone as attractive as sole. sole was really beautiful, almost too beautiful to be existent in the commonwealth.

his train of thought was cut off by soles soft voice, “you’re really attractive,” maccready felt his ears heat up in embarrassment as sole took in the view, “i wonder how you’re still single. i’m surprised i haven’t caught a girl checking you out yet.”

normally, maccready would make some snarky remark or say something like ‘quit it’, but his undeniable and obvious crush for sole told him otherwise. he felt his confidence skyrocket thanks to sole, it really wasn’t everyday maccready received a compliment, especially from the girl he admired. “thanks boss.. it really means a lot coming from you.” he rubbed his neck sheepishly as sole stretched, getting up on her feet to head to bed. oh how maccready wished he could grow the balls to say the same to her. “of course mac, i wouldn’t be lying to my favorite partner!” he watched as she laid on her bed, giving maccready one final stare before closing her eyes. “goodnight, mac.” “night boss.” he felt his heart jump in happiness as he realized how lucky he was to have someone like sole by his side.

Nick Valentine:

of course, nick being the sweetheart he is, had set the bed for her as she changed her clothes in the other room. the bed was in the living room where he was sitting peacefully at, so it wasn’t hard to hear some turning and tossing against the hard mattress. he took a peek at sole who was staring at the ceiling wearily. “having trouble to sleep, doll?” sole nodded as she saw nick stride over to her in no time. he sat beside her bed and opened a book next to the counter, but before he let a single word out, sole had slowly shut the book.

“nick, i wanna talk to you and get to know you as a person. all this time i’ve been your partner, i haven’t really asked about your personal life.” nick sent her a surprised look, “and why would you want that?”

“well to be fair, i have told you a lot about my life so far,” she spoke shyly as she fiddled with her fingers, “and you’re an interesting guy, nick. you’re just so nice and caring towards others. i really do look up to you. no one in the commonwealth has a reputation like you do.” sole was way too nervous to even stare up at him as she continued talking, “well to me, at least.” if nick had a heart, it’d be melting at the words that shot out of soles mouth. he knew damn well that she meant every word of it and no one could tell him otherwise. nick let out a content grin as he spoke with a hint of joy in his voice, “well i guess great minds think alike, don’t you think? i suppose i can do that for you.” he felt so at home with her and he couldn’t place a finger as to why, but he decided to wave it off. nick rambled on about his life as sole felt a sense of tranquility, her eyes slowly closing at the sound of nicks soothing voice.

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hcywards · 5 years ago

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you’ll be fine — pope heyward

summary: in which pope is nervous for his interview and his girlfriend is there to calm him down.

words: 1.3k of pure fluff

t/w: swearing,, but apart from that it’s literally all fluff.

request: this was a request from @letsgofullkook !

“I haven’t been able to think of something that I’d necessarily want, but maybe Pope’s running over questions for his interview and being super stressed out before it!”

note: tysm for requesting, this idea was so cute i love it. uhh sorry that this ones a little short. apparently i dont know how to just write fluff hahaha but i hope you like it. && also i know this isn’t the exact request however i have never been to an interview for a school so i had no idea what the questions would be hahaha.

Anxiety is an emotion we’re all used to.

We know exactly how it feels, how we react to it, how we deal with it. In fact, some of us even know how others deal with it. That could be said for Y/N L/N and Pope Heyward, the latter of whom tended to hide his emotions behind a stoic expression and calm words.

Y/N, however, knew different.

After dating him for the best part of a year, and being friends with him for far longer, it would only take her a second to work out exactly what he was feeling. And, right now, that feeling was the sickening, terrifying concoction of nervousness, excitement, anticipation and stress, that sent your mind whirling and your body buzzing.

Y/N watched him from the sun bed, sprawled out across it. They’d been sat there for hours in almost-silence, and she was growing bored of listening to him mumble to himself, scribble down words on a page and then shuffle them around. There were only so many times she could deal with listening to him repeat a sentence, and she was nearing the end of that count as she glanced over to him again, eyes raking from one nervous twitch to another.

Pope’s fingers were drumming against his thigh as he sat, his other leg bouncing at a rapid pace. The hammock was swinging to and fro beneath him, jolting a little at the speed at which his leg was bouncing as he read through his scholarship essay.

Y/N sighed quietly, though that didn’t seem to stir him from his thoughts. She looked at his face, wondering if he was aware that the constant drumming of his fingers was now getting irritating. Probably not.

“Pope,” she called out to him, her voice soft so as not to make him jump. He did anyway, suddenly jolted out of his thoughts as he looked up. “Calm down. You’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but, statistically speaking, the chances of me getting this scholarship right now are like, slim to none,” he responded, his words slurred at their quick pace. He didn’t make any moves to explain further, looking back down and reading through the paper he’d already read at least eight times in the past hour.

Y/N snorted, “Pope, for a guy who’s a literal genius, I think you’re kind of dumb.”

“You know, you’re great help, Y/N. Really great. Thanks,” he stated, tone dripping with sarcasm. He was spending too much time with Kie. “Now, please, let me concentrate.”

Y/N sighed, shifting around in the sun bed to make herself more comfortable, and watching him continue to mouth the words to himself as he memorised them. His finger drumming continued for a few minutes before she got bored again, and she sat up, bringing her legs over the edge of the sunbed to face him. There were two ways to calm Pope down from when he got like this — the first was to try and convince him that there was nothing to worry about.

“You’ll do great,” she soothed, “Trust me.”

He looked up at her again, eyes wide. His heart was hammering in her chest, mind running a million miles per minute and still repeating the essay he didn’t know how to perfect. “Look, Y/N, this is the biggest opportunity of my life. If I don’t get in, I don’t know—” His voice cracked, and he looked away from her for a second, regaining his typically relaxed composure, though they both knew he was far from relaxed. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Pope. you’re literally, like, the smartest guy in the whole of the OBX. Of course you’ll get in.” she responded. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“There’s actually a lot for me to worry about,” he stated. “I mean, for one—”

Before he could finish, Y/N was snatching his papers out of his palms and beginning to read them. He watched impatiently, studying her face intently to try and work out what she thought, but to no avail.

Once she’d finished reading, she looked up at him with a dumbfounded expression, and he frowned, tilting his head to the side as he waited for her to tell her what she thought.

“Pope, do you really think this needs editing?” she asked. “This is the best fucking thing I’ve ever read.”

“You’ve literally read, like, Shakespeare, Y/N,” he retorted.

Y/N waved the paper in front of his face, rolling her eyes. “Pope, look, I’m not kidding. If they don’t let you in after this, they don’t deserve you. And I know you have to get in, but, honestly, Pope, there’s no way in hell you’re not going to. Please, just trust me on this one.”

He looked at Y/N, disbelief obvious in his dark eyes, and his girlfriend gave him a supportive smile. His anxiety was far from gone, and she knew that — but she also knew he was one of the most stubborn people she’d ever met, and he’d be extremely difficult to convince of anything but what he’d been telling herself.

So she opted for the second option, which was comforting. She moved to push him down to laying on the hammock, and he frowned, obviously uncertain as to what she was doing. She gave him another smile, trapping his papers underneath a coffee mug. The liquid inside had long since gone cold, abandoned and forgotten about in the boy’s need to work. She turned back to him, laying down by his side and wrapping an arm around his torso.

“When was the last time you slept, Pope?” she asked as he began to melt into her touch, putting an arm around her shoulders as he looked up to the cloudless, summer sky.

He scoffed. “I don’t need sleep, Y/N. I need to work. The interview’s in, like, three days, and it’s got to be perfect.”

“It is perfect, Pope, but that’s not the answer to my question.” Y/N replied, looking up at him and studying his profile intently. The bags under his eyes were dark and puffy, and it was fairly obvious he hadn’t gotten enough sleep in days. The real question was, though: was he going to admit it?

He sighed after a moment, knowing there was no way he could convince her of anyhting but the truth. She saw right past him, and she always had. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Go to sleep then, Pope. You’ll be able to work better when you aren’t tired,” she stated, and he did just that.

They fell asleep curled up in each others arms, the thoughts of the interview far from their minds as they properly relaxed for what seemed to be the first time in days, and Pope woke up knowing exactly what he wanted to fix about his essay, meaning Y/N’s attempt at calming him down had actually worked when noone else’s had.

Though, really, where was the surprise there? After all, they did know next to everything about each other, including what made the other calm, apparently.

taglist! there is a form in my description if you would like to be added!

@spilledtee @dpaccione @thorsangel

#pope heyward #pope outer banks #pope heyward x reader #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #obx #outer banks #obx x reader #outer banks x reader #popcsheywards

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proudgodot · 4 years ago

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Gratitude

I was not initially planning to post about this, given that my unfortunate tendency to over-share has caused me quite a bit of grief in the past, but the truth is that I simply couldn’t resist this time. Typically when I am overcome by an uncontrollable desire to post it is because I am desperately in need of attention or validation, so much so that I can’t actually remember a time when I posted because I was genuinely eager to share something. It was always out of some perverse and misplaced sense of obligation, but it finally feels as if that burden is lifted. While I was writing this post, it was because I felt a genuine…. pride over something I had accomplished, something I genuinely wanted to share with the world. When I chose the name of this blog I didn’t earnestly expect that I would ever feel anything other than shame about myself… it seemed more an ideal than an actual plausible prediction. I’m just so relieved my wish came true.

Anyway, I suppose that is quite enough navel-gazing for the time being… I can only imagine my followers have probably had enough of that to last a long and fulfilling lifetime. I reckon it’s time to move on to the actual story.

As most of you well know, following the dramatic events of the Kristahlia drama, I suddenly found myself with the new responsibility of parenthood. There are certainly aspects of my new lifestyle that have been difficult to adjust to… principle of which is that I am supposed to serve as a sort of role model for these developing and damaged boys. I have never been particularly aspirational, in fact you would be hard-pressed to find someone as underperforming as me. Although I was prone to overcompensating for such things, always desperately trying to prove that I was capable of as much as the bare minimum, looking back I see that I grew too comfortable with those low expectations. When it registered that as a caretaker I would suddenly have to perform a sort of excellence, not for the sake of my fragile ego but for the betterment of these children… I was immediately overcome by a painful inadequacy. However, as our first week together progressed, I came to realize that in certain regards all of us were personally inadequate, and it was for that very reason we had taken on this responsibility together. Although I certainly had my short-comings, that wasn’t something unique to me, and over time we all began to coordinate better and help manage each other’s weaknesses. I was somewhat surprised to learn this was not only true of the adults, but the children as well. The dynamic we developed as a family was rather symbiotic… I found that regardless of age we all had something to offer each other.

Regardless, I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to keep my found family as distant as possible from my most severe personal issues. My past was something I felt I had to resolve independently, no matter how tempting it was to once again depend on the people in my life to solve my problems in my stead. That is why when I made the decision to start looking into Anton’s whereabouts, I never spoke a word about it to my housemates.

Facebook made finding his account incredibly easy, distressingly so in fact. I became acutely aware of the possibility that he might have been recommended my account numerous times over the years and had consciously chosen not to send me a friend request, which although completely understandable still hurt immensely to imagine. Perhaps my hopelessly romantic dream to reconnect with the man was unrequited, and would be rejected with extreme prejudice if vocalized. Eventually, however, I managed to muster up the courage to actually inspect his profile. I discovered that after our quarrel six years ago and his subsequent transferral Anton had moved back to his hometown in Ann Arbor to complete his degree in art and design. Since graduating, he had been working as a freelance artist and animator… he often posted about how proud of his projects he was, and it was reassuring to see his enthusiasm had not diminished in the slightest over the years. One detail about his profile that immediately jumped out at me was his relationship status, which was currently set to single. Despite myself, I immediately felt a small flicker of hope ignite within my quickened heart. Upon further investigation, it appeared he’d been involved in several relationships over the years that had ultimately ended in failure, although the circumstances were unclear. I only hoped he hadn’t made a habit of dating unappreciative losers…

I managed to quell my anxiety briefly and force myself to send him a friend request, which almost immediately filled me with a sense of mounting dread. My anticipation wasn’t even allowed much time to simmer, because mere minutes after I sent the message I was notified that it had been accepted. Instinctively, I slammed my laptop shut and jumped out of my seat, forgetting that I was incapable of standing up so quickly without losing all feeling in my legs and face planting into the floor. I instantly regretted not taking Addy’s advice and getting that checked by a doctor, because soon enough the entire family was in my room gathered around my body and asking questions with varying degrees of concern and amusement. Although I had wanted to keep my activity a secret, at that moment I was swept away in the drama, and so I began to mindlessly rant about the situation.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but soon enough there were six pairs of hands all frantically scrambling for control of my keyboard. While I laid incapacitated on the floor, my friends had taken it upon themselves to respond to Anton’s messages, each expressing their own thoughts from my account in randomly alternating orders depending on who had managed to prevail in the wrestling. It seemed that Iara maintained the upper hand most of the fight, although it was admittedly difficult to tell over the frenzy at times considering my limited view from the floor.

Eventually, the chaos subsided and everyone turned to look at me with beaming smiles on their faces, some more devious than others. I immediately began to worry that they had sabotaged me somehow, be it in light-hearted jest or in an earnest act of betrayal, and so I asked them nervously what exactly they had done. For a moment it seemed they were trying to contain their excitement, but it didn’t take long for them to erupted into an uproarious celebration, complete with victorious chants that Anton was coming to meet us in person this evening!

I didn’t know how to react. All at once a tempest of conflicting emotions completely overpowered me… and I mean that quite literally. I knocked out cold, and when I finally woke up I discovered that not only had Kyler been trying to shock me awake by applying Takis to my tongue, but that the situation had not miraculously resolved itself. Although everyone else had mostly settled down, my mind was whirling a mile a minute with all of the things I had to do to prepare. I had a whole bucket list I needed to accomplish before I was comfortable standing in front of Anton again… and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t possibly get everything done myself over such a brief time. To my surprise, I didn’t even have a chance to put my reservations aside before they had already agreed to help me based off of my panicked listing of errands alone. Despite my reluctance to involve my new friends in the more turbulent aspects of personal life, it seemed they were actually eager to get involved themselves… I discovered that my problems were not an inconvenience to them, but rather something they were excited to help me work through.

The first obstacle I had to overcome was also the hardest… that being that I had never properly apologized to Gabriella and Lana for my dishonest and frankly abusive treatment. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t have the words to express my remorse or that I hadn’t processed my guilt, but that Gabriella’s parting words to me specifically informed me not to contact her and I didn’t want to once again disrespect her wishes. However, after some words of encouragement from the family, I managed to write a relatively concise three thousand word email taking responsibility for my past actions and wishing the couple well. As I was writing this post, I actually received a response from the two telling me they appreciated my apology and were glad to see I had grown into a more mature person. Apparently they have just finished settling into their cottage and are now doing better than ever. Lana even expressed an interest in meeting Addy and Iara in particular sometime… I suppose it’s a sapphic thing. I’m just glad that they’re finally living the happy life they deserve without being held back by backwards men.

My email took longer to type then I had expected, and although I certainly can not regret pouring my heart into the message given its importance, it did mean that we had to pick up the pace with the rest of the bucket list. Kyler took this quite literally, speeding at what must have been 100 miles per hour towards the mall despite nearly giving me a heart attack and my insistence that he not set such a bad example for Chris and Klav. We actually ended up getting pulled over, but luckily Iara managed to scare the officer away with her signature scowl. The next few hours were a frantic rush of errands, all focused on helping me actually express myself without the burden of repression. There were moments when it was a struggle, such as when I nearly hyperventilated in Claire’s before they pierced my ears, but ultimately I am immensely satisfied with the results. The most fulfilling moment was finally getting the tips of my hair bleached white to match my new profile picture. Chris actually got his hair dyed alongside me, changing his style from pale blond to black and white to reflect his new kin. It was incredibly rewarding to accomplish this alongside him… I had never been the subject of anything but disappointment from my parents, so it was an incredible feeling to be able to experience that absent parental pride for myself, even if it was with a different perspective.

By the time Anton was forecasted to arrive, my appearance had been upgraded to better reflect my current sense of self… all that was left was for me to get in the right mindset. Luckily, my family was perfectly eager to act as my own personal “hype beasts,” as Kyler put it. They offered excellent emotional support in the half-hour we sat in the den patiently awaiting his arrival, especially Addy, who really took my mind off things by offering to play me in a game of chess. I lost quite handedly, but for once I don’t have it in me to be a spoilsport. When we heard that fateful knock at the door, they all immediately ran into the nearest closest and shut themselves inside to give us some space, but not before giving me a final set of encouraging thumbs up. I hesitated for a moment, questioning once again whether I was really ready to take such a big step in my life. My hand paused, hovering over the door knob uncertainly… until I heard the faint sounds of Steely Dan’s Come on Eileen coming from inside the closet, accompanied by the muffled sound of Klav’s giggle. Reignited by the familiar sounds of my favorite musicians, I swung the door open with a new and uncharacteristic conviction.

And there he was… I was immediately captivated by just how strong his presence was. My memories hadn’t done him justice… it really was like I was in the presence of an angel. I was comforted by certain familiar aspects of his appearance, such as his golden brown eyes that glistened like stars, his long curly hair with its comforting strawberry aroma, and his signature checkered scarf that he had been consistently wearing for almost decade now… but what really excited me were those new features. Normally I am turned off by change, but I was positively breathless as soon as my eyes wandered to the golden butterfly tattoo on his exposed shoulder. I felt as if I was going to faint for a second time in one day.

I couldn’t find the words to express the depths of my emotion no matter how hard I searched my impassioned soul... there were no words strong enough. Instead I just cried, and wordlessly he accepted me into his arms… just like he had on that life-changing night all those years ago. I finally told him everything I had so obstinately refused to say during college… that I was gay, that I was in love with him, and that I was sorry. Although I was openly weeping, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved in my life.

Eventually, he managed to pacify me… and so I was able to explain to him the entire story of the Kristahlia drama. It was difficult to explain that I had managed to go from discoursing with these teenage kinnies to adopting them, but he was as understanding as he ever was. He was so excited to meet my family that he even brought his cat Apple all the way from Michigan just to introduce her to them. I don’t think I have ever mentioned this publicly, but when Krissy died I had to take her dog Diogenes in myself, and I was surprised to find that the two animals got along perfectly. It really did feel like the entire house was accepting him... it was as if this was meant to be.

Since Anton had gone to all the trouble of making the ten hour drive to Iowa, he suggested that we might as well all hang out together in Cedar Rapids over the weekend. I suppose it’s a date... I must say that I am looking forward to it, as are the others. I know I didn’t deserve to be accepted by him again just because I spent a few hours shedding tears and profusely apologizing, but for once I don’t feel guilty that I have received something I don’t deserve. I just feel... an overwhelming gratitude for the opportunity.

I am certainly still inexperienced at this whole family business and have accepted that I will inevitably make some mistakes in the future, but I don’t think I’ve done too poorly for a first week, if I do say so myself. I am truly grateful to all the people in my life who have supported me through my journey, who have taught me that it is possible to rely on others without being a parasite and to be relied on without shouldering the entire burden.

To my partners, my friends, my children, and my love... from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

#sincerely adam

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im-fairly-whitty · 5 years ago

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Title: Forget Me Not by @im-fairly-whitty (Ao3: im_fairly_witty)

Fandom: The Witcher (Netflix/Books/Game)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Wordcount: 11731

Summary: You meet up with your soulmate in dreams once or twice every year your whole life, giving you the chance to grow up together and befriend each other no matter where you live. The catch is you only remember what happens in those dreams if you’re currently in one, or if you meet in real life and you BOTH want to be with each other, meaning your waking lives carry on as they would have otherwise with you none the wiser as to whether or not you have a soulmate out there.

This leads to unexpected and wonderful tearful reunions between soulmates discovering each other in waking life, but if your waking selves don’t get along or have emotional constipation (cough, Geralt, cough cough) you and your soulmate can only watch helplessly from your dream meetings as your waking selves make things terrible for both of you without even realizing it.

Additional Tags: Geraskier of course. Instant friendship, but a bit of a slow burn romantically, because Geralt's had five year old Jaskier for fifteen minutes (and if anything happened to him he'd kill everyone in this room and then himself) but romantic feelings don't start until later when they're both adults. Hurt comfort, wump, First Kiss. Happy Ending because RIP season one but I'm different. Also young Jaskier is a national treasure who must be protected at all costs.

For @geraskierweek: prompt 1, Soulmates

Geralt is eighty five years old when he meets his soulmate for the first time in a dream.

He knows it’s a soulmate dream too, he’s never dreamt anything nearly so vivid or calm, only ever having had muddled nightmares if anything at all. But now he finds himself standing in a field of wildflowers, a slight breeze brushing over the loose black shirt he’s wearing. An unseen sun warms his skin in the perfect pleasantness of a calm summer’s day.

And Geralt feels sick to his stomach. Because he does not want a soulmate, had been convinced that he didn’t have one after decades of nothing.

But as he walks across the field he hears the soft gurgling of a brook and sees exactly why it’s taken so long for his first dream to come. Sitting on the bank of the stream, shoes and socks stripped off with his feet splashing in the water, is a five year old boy.

Geralt’s sick feeling doubles as he silently watches the boy from afar, suddenly far more furious at destiny for what it’s just done to this poor child. Matching him up with a monster. The boy should be meeting someone his own age right now, a childhood friend seen fleetingly in dreams once or perhaps twice a year as they aged together. Not a witcher.

Geralt jumps as the little boy looked over his shoulder, spotting him. For a moment Geralt considers just turning and leaving, just walking away and out of this poor child’s dreams for good.

But then the boy’s eyes light up in a look of eager happiness and he waves excitedly, jumping up and running over to him before he can get away.

“Hi! My name’s Julian! What’s your name? Do you know what this place is?” The little boy asks excitedly, jumping up and down with seemingly boundless energy. “There’s so many flowers, I love them!”

“I’m Geralt.” Geralt says a little stiffy, mind reeling a bit. Because he can’t remember a single time in his life that a child has greeted him with anything other than fear, and it’s stunned him as easily as Axii.

“Hi Geralt! I’m Julian!” says Julian brightly, having apparently already forgotten his previous introduction in his excitement. He grabs Geralt’s hand before he can react and pulls him along. “Come see the stream I found!”

Geralt swallows as he lets himself be tugged along, at a loss for words or thought. Instead he finds himself listening attentively as Julian drags him to stand in the shallow water, proudly showing him wet rocks and pebbles of slightly different colors.

It’s only been a few minutes when Geralt feels the dream already starting to fade, they never last long for the first few years he’s heard. But by the time Julian disappears from sight Geralt is absolutely heartbroken for the child, having already come to love him in the kind of way that would have him burning a village should he come to harm.

And Geralt is absolutely furious to know that he will have no memory of the dream once he wakes up. That neither of them will remember their encounter until the next time they meet.

***

Julian is eleven when he finally realizes why he can never remember Geralt when he wakes up.

“You’re my soulmate aren’t you.” Julian not so much asks as simply states, looking up at Geralt.

The two of them are sitting cross legged in the wildflower field they always meet in, braiding long strands of grass to see who can make the longest one. Sometimes they explore together, sometimes they sit on the bank of the stream to splash around, sometimes Julian manages to get Geralt to tell him a story. They’re always very exciting stories.

“Hmmm.” Geralt grunts, not looking up from his grass braiding.

“My mum says if you meet your soulmate in your dreams not to bother telling them your name, because neither of you will remember when you’re awake.” Julian says, reaching over to pick a flower to weave into his grass braid. “That’s why I only remember you when we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Hmmm.” Geralt says again. But Julian knows it’s the “yes” kind of hmmm. They’ve met enough times over the years that Julian knows what all the hmmm’s mean now.

They continue to braid for a few quiet minutes, the soft breeze rustling through the wildflowers.

“How come you’re so old?” Julian asks, looking up at Geralt. “Aren’t soulmates supposed to be the same age?”

There’s a kind of almost smile on Geralt’s face which means he’s supposed to be chuckling, but then a little bit of a sad look too.

“It’s because I’m a witcher.” Geralt says, not looking at Julian as he plucks another long blade of grass. “It means I’ll live for hundreds of years and still look about this age.”

“Oh, like elves.” Julian asks, nodding sagely.

“Yeah, a little bit like elves.” Geralt says with a shrug, but now his little smile stays.

Julian’s nose wrinkles, “Does that mean it’s not going to be until I’m like fifty that we meet in real life? So I look as old as you do?”

Geralt actually laughs at that, reaching over to ruffle Julian’s hair. “I do not look fifty. Thirty at most.”

“But you’ve got white hair!” Julian says defensively, warming to his argument. “Only really old people have white hair, everybody knows that Geralt.”

“A fair point, little lark.” Geralt says. His smile dims a little. “And I don’t know when we’ll meet in real life. I hope we don’t.”

“What?” Julian cries, jumping to his feet, throwing his grass braid into the air for emphasis. “But we’re soulmates! We gotta meet in real life too so we can be real life friends! How else are we gonna remember each other when we’re awake?”

“My life isn’t one that you want to be in.” Geralt says gently. “I’m always in danger, I’m always having to fight monsters and travel hard. You wouldn’t be able to come with me, it would be too dangerous and I would be too unkind.”

“But you’re always nice. You’re my best friend!” Julian insists, crossing his arms.

“It’s easier here.” Geralt says simply, going back to his braid. “I don’t have to worry when I’m here. But if we meet in real life you’ll be frightened of me, I’ll have two great swords on my back and be in dirty armor and look angry all the time to scare off people who want to hurt me.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Julian says seriously. “I’ll make them be nice to you, I’ll tell them how great and kind you are and then you won’t have to worry.”

“I’m sure you would.” Geralt says with a sad smile, holding up his finished grass braid to Julian as they feel the dream start to fade.

***

Geralt is ninety five the year that Julian’s mother dies. He holds the fifteen year old on his arms as the boy cries bitterly into his shoulder the entire dream they’re together, having had no other shoulders to cry on when he was awake.

***

“I ran away from home last month.” Seventeen year old Julian says.

Geralt looks over at him where they’re both lying in the grass, hands behind their heads as they stare at the blue nothing sky.

“Did your father finally throw you out?” Geralt askes. “Or did you finally hide enough money for Oxenfurt?”

“A little of both.” Julian says, voice deceptively easy. “Got caught sleeping with a maid and figured it was time to get out while I still could. I didn’t fancy being beaten within an inch of my life like Mother.”

A long moment of quiet passes between them.

“Are you safe? Where you are?” Geralt asks, looking over.

“Not really.” Julian says quietly, reaching down to pluck a blade of grass and starting to slowly break it apart in his fingers. “I’m pretending to myself that I am, but I know I’m going to get stabbed if I hang around much longer. I’ll probably wise up in a day or two, once I get over my pride.”

“Did you buy a knife like I told you to?” Geralt askes, knowing perfectly well how futile giving advice of any kind is, but having to try anyway.

“I didn’t.” Julian says, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I was even looking at one in the marketplace, thinking how much I wished I knew how to use one properly.” he looked over at Geralt, sharing the moment of sad irony with him. “It’s utter rubbish, this not being able to remember business. At least when we meet I’ll suddenly have the knife wielding skills of a bandit from what you’ve taught me.”

Geralt chuckles a sad kind of chuckle that ends in a sigh.

Another minute of silence.

“And don’t say we’re not going to meet, because I can feel you thinking it and we are.” Julian says, raising up on one elbow to glare at him more easily.

“We aren’t going to meet.” Geralt said, shaking his head tiredly. “You’ll see me coming a mile away and be too terrified to even get a look at my face. As you should be.”

“I won’t!” Julian insists. “We’ll end up in the same seedy tavern someday, soon too now that I’m traveling, and we’ll see each other across the crowd as I’m playing my lute and suddenly I’ll remember how to wield a knife and you are going to remember you owe me a drink.”

Geralt only keeps shaking his head. “You only get your dream memories back if you both want to be together Julian. You know I don’t want a soulmate. My life isn’t the kind that’s supposed to be shared, there’s not a chance that I’m going to see you in real life and want you around me. Neither of us will remember.”

“You can’t convince me I’m unattractive Geralt, I have an extremely healthy self image.” Julian says, stretching in a comical attempt at a sexy pose.

“You’re a child.” Geralt scoffs.

“Not for long.” Jaskier says, raising an eyebrow. “Give me a few years and I’ll look as old as you, and then when I find you I’ll keep badgering you until you let me stay, and then boom. Soulmate memories.”

Geralt snorts. “If I had an entire week I could not explain to you all the ways in which that is extremely unlikely.”

Geralt closes his eyes, but he can feel Julian watching him from across the grass.

“If we already remembered each other, would you come get me?” Julian asks quietly, the barest hint of a shake hidden in his voice.

Geralt opens his eyes, looking at him steadily. “If we already remembered each other I would have come to get you the day your mother died, and then killed your father for good measure.”

“Okay.” Julian says, voice still quiet as he curls up a little in the grass, still laying on his side.

Geralt can smell the fear starting to seep off the boy as he feels the dream start to fade around them, pulling them back to real life.

“You’ll be alright.” Geralt says, reaching over to grip the boy’s shoulder comfortingly. “You’re stubborn and you’re quick on your feet if nothing else, you’ll survive.”

“Geralt, I-” Julian’s hand grips his.

And then the dream fades.

***

Geralt is ninety nine the first time he finds himself in a soulmate dream where he finds that he’s even more upset than the very first time he found himself in the wildflower field.

“Geralt!”

He looks over and see Julian...no, Jaskier, sprinting toward him. The young man slams into him at top speed, grabbing him in a hug that is buzzing with energy and excitement.

“We met!” Jaskier cries, his eyes actually filling with excited tears. “We met! We met! I can’t believe we finally met, and Gods Geralt you never once mentioned how lethally attractive you are in real life! I thought I was going to die when I saw you! And-”

There are too many things in Geralt’s head that need to be said, too many competing emotions warring to get out first.

But Geralt does the most important thing first and wraps Jaskier into a protective bear hug, holding him close. Jaskier returns the hug eagerly, quieting for just a moment despite practically humming in excitement.

“We didn’t remember.” Geralt says quietly, pulling out of the hug enough to look Jaskier in the eyes, then anger surfaces for its turn out in the open. “And what are you doing Jaskier? Why on earth are you following me around? You nearly got slaughtered by elves on your first day! Do you have a death wish?”

“But that’s the thing Geralt!” Jaskier says eagerly. “I can tell there’s something special about you! I saw you in the tavern and I could tell!”

“You know we’re soulmates?” Geralt demands.

“No, no, no memories at all, but still it feels like...” Jaskier bites his lip, searching for words, which doesn’t happen often. “I’m not sure what it feels like, but it just feels like I’m supposed to be around you, I feel like you can keep me safe. I haven’t figured it out yet obviously, but maybe I will soon!”

Geralt feels his heart ache, remembering the disgust and irritation he feels toward Jaskier in real life without his true memories to assist him.

“I’m sorry for hitting you.” he says quietly.

“Oh that’s alright.” Jaskier says with a grin. “I supposed I deserved it, but I did warn you I was going to be stubborn!”

“Jaskier there’s no way this is going to work.” Geralt says, shaking his head. “I’ve already decided to shake you off when we reach town tomorrow, you’re too slow on foot and you sing too much.”

“You are so grumpy in real life, you know that?” Jaskier says, narrowing his eyes and jabbing a finger at Geralt’s chest. “Like, unbelievably grumpy, and mean! Do you have an entire witcher mutagen dedicated to being taciturn in real life that doesn’t affect you when you’re asleep? I swear you’re like a whole different person!”

“I’ve only known you for a few days in real life.” Geralt said, dropping his arms to his sides with a sigh. “You’re seeing what the world sees of me. I never let that guard down, ever. I can’t afford to. That’s the reality of being a witcher, I can’t ever be vulnerable or that’s the end of it for me.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier says, his eyes dropping. “I’m sorry your life’s been like that.” He looks up with a flame of anger in his own eyes. “I hate the way people look at you, the way you save all of them and then they treat you like garbage. I’m going to make them see who you really are Geralt, I’m already working on songs to do it.”

“Your songs that are already changing the truth of what actually happened to us?” Geralt said with a smile.

“Yes! And they’re going to be fantastically popular.” Jaskier says, absolutely convinced.

“Also,” Geralt says, his smile disappearing and raising an eyebrow as his grip on Jaskier’s shoulder tightens. “You are utterly shameless. I can smell you constantly reeking of lust around me when we’re walking around together, have you ever once in your life tried to be subtle? That’s the biggest reason I’ve decided to shake you off tomorrow.”

Jaskier grins sheepishly, “In my defence you haven’t told me how old you really are?” he tries. “I’m still out there assuming you’re a foxy mid to late thirties.”

“Will it really make a difference when you find out I’m ninety nine?” Geralt asks flatly.

“No.” Jaskier says, his grin no longer sheepish. “Oh, and happy hundredth by the way if you haven’t told me by then.”

“No changing the subject.” Geralt says sternly. “We’re likely never going to see each other again in real life after your obnoxious performance, so I hope you’re satisfied with our one death outing together.”

“Oh, we’ll meet again.” Jaskier said happily.

“And how can you be so sure?” Geralt says dryly.

“Because I’ve already decided I’m going to stalk you across the continent like a lovesick schoolboy.” Jaskier says proudly. “And my awake self decided that all on his own.”

“That’s because you are a lovesick school boy. One who’s going to get himself killed by following me.” Geralt says, shoving at Jaskier’s shoulder as they begin to walk across the meadow to their usual spot by the stream.

“Honestly though Geralt, why have you kept me around even this long? You have to like me at least a little.” Jaskier asks, looking at him curiously as he follows.

“You’re the first human I’ve ever met who doesn’t smell like fear when they look at me.” Geralt says with a shrug. “It’s intriguing. Novel.”

Jaskier makes a sad kind of noise, looking at him and then wrapping him in a second hug.

“Geralt, here I was fishing for compliments and you have to hit me with that?” Jaskier mumbles against his chest.

“Well I’m never ever going to say it in waking, so I might as well.” Geralt sighs.

“Just you wait, we’re going to make it, I know we will.” Jaskier says, looking up at him with a smile full of determination. “I’ll track you down again, you’ll see.”

***

Only nine months and one dream pass before Jaskier manages to find Geralt again in real life. He is extremely smug.

“Just you wait, Witcher.” Jaskier says, using the name he’s picked up from using in real life. “By the end of the year we’ll both have remembered.”

***

If Geralt had known three years passed without a single dream he would have been worried, but of course he has no way of knowing that until he finds himself standing in the field of flowers again.

Jaskier is standing a ways off, arms folded tightly as he stares off into the nothing distance, his shoulders tense.

“Jaskier.” Geralt calls, and the bard turns, a look of sheer relief breaking through his worried expression as he runs to Geralt.

“Why was it so long?” Jaskier asks, face buried against Geralt’s neck as they hold tightly to one another. “Why haven’t we seen each other in so long Geralt?”

Geralt takes a long moment just to breathe in Jaskier’s scent, which is riddled with fear and unease, then kisses his forehead, aching because he knows there’s no good way he can apologize for how he’s acted in waking life. Because of course they have seen each other, quite often in fact, but Geralt hates seeing it with remembering eyes. His gruffness, the constant shoving Jaskier away both figuratively and literally. The way that Jaskier puts up with it all with a smile.

Things aren’t always bad, they’ve had good times too, but not nearly enough to make up for it in his opinion.

“I don’t know.” Geralt says slowly, almost having to remember how to use long sentences again after so long in his customary waking gruffness. “Perhaps it’s because we’re together often in real life. The dreams don’t feel like they have to pull us together any more.”

“It’s been three years Geralt and we haven’t remembered a thing yet.” Jaskier says, his voice sounding a little hoarse against Geralt’s neck. “I, I guess things are pretty normal for us only having known each other three years though, right? Loads of people probably act like we do. With me hanging on and you hating everything...”

Geralt bites his lip, realizing that Jaskier had gotten so used to glossing over his emotions around Geralt in real life that he’s even doing it here now.

“You scare me in real life.” Geralt said, being the first to be honest. “I keep thinking I’m going to break you or scare you off like everyone else, I don’t understand what you see in me to keep following me and being kind and it frightens me. That’s why I still have so many walls, I’ve never had a real human friend, and I’m afraid of how fragile I think you are.”

Jaskier makes a small choking sound, nearly a sob as he looks up and Geralt sees tears in his eyes. “We are friends then?” he asks, voice hoarse. “In real life I mean, I always keep hoping we are or, or will be, but I just don’t know what you think about me really so I just keep joking around it and-”

“You’re the truest friend I’ve ever had Jaskier.” Geralt said firmly, putting a hand gently to his cheek. “You just picked the worst possible person to try befriending. I promise.”

“O-okay.” Jaskier said, tears sliding down his cheeks as he gasps for breath a little. “Okay. It’s just so hard to tell with you sometimes.” He wiped fiercely at his eyes. “Gods, sorry, I swear I’m not this distraught in real life, honestly I’m alright, I’m perfectly pleased to keep worrying away at you for the long haul. It’s just so...so disorienting to be back here I suppose, to remember. I just wish we both remembered already.”

“It’s alright little lark.” Geralt said softly, sitting in the grass and pulling Jaskier down into his arms. Holding him tight, as if it could make up for three years of only rough and brief touches in passing. “This is my fault, I always told you I’d be miserable company in real life.”

“It’s not all bad you know.” Jaskier swallows, resting his head against Geralt’s chest. “Really it’s not. You’re always so kind to people who really need it, and you make the worst jokes when we’re alone on the road together, and you’re so soft with Roach, and you’re terrifying at Gwent. And I know you really do care about me, because you’re always saving my skin every single time I need it, and I know you make sure I get the best parts of our food when we’re running low, and I know you bought me those boots last month because mine were falling apart so don’t even pretend it was because they were cheap anyway. I know they weren’t. I know clothes Geralt.”

Something warm gently flickers in Geralt’s chest as his bard lists so many things Geralt hadn’t considered as being good. They were just things he felt he needed to do. But coming from Jaskier they did sound good. It almost makes him feel better.

“So you’re not miserable then?” Geralt asks hesitantly.

“No! No, not by a long shot.” Jaskier says, wide-eyed as he looks up at him. “Geralt these are the best years I’ve ever had in my life, I get to go adventuring with you and see sights no one in Oxenfurt’s ever seen, and then I get to go hole up for the winter in a warm classroom and write songs while you hibernate up at your witcher castle. This is the dream Geralt.”

“You should have better dreams.” Geralt says softly. “These years are the prime of your life, you should be spending them doing something else.”

“If you remember to tell me all that again when we wake up I’ll do it.” Jaskier says, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Speaking of better dreams,” Geralt says flatly. “would you actually die if you didn’t jump in bed with everything that moves? As glad as I am that you appreciate me dragging you out of every fire you light under yourself, I sometimes forget I’m supposed to be fighting monsters, not cuckolded husbands.”

“Do you have any idea how much sexual frustration I deal with on a daily basis just from being around you?” Jaskier replies seriously. “When you walk around looking like a marble statue in black leather and a loose ponytail? And that’s just when you have clothes on.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Well, good to see you’re feeling better.”

“I’m serious Geralt.” Jaskier says, curling closer to him, looking down at the grass. “I’m not just sticking around for the song material anymore. I’ve...really fallen for you. You could at least pretend to notice.”

“You’re still so young.” Geralt shakes his head, resting his chin gently on Jaskier’s head. “You get obsessed with things all the time, I know you’ll get bored and move on eventually.”

“I won’t. Not from you.” Jaskier says firmly, one hand holding tightly to the front of Geralt’s shirt. “And you can’t keep using my age as an excuse either, I know for a fact that you don’t sleep with prostitutes your age when we visit the Passaflora, so you can stop pretending that’s a valid excuse not to be attracted to me at this point.”

Geralt only chuckles. “I’m only telling you what I really think in waking life Jaskier, you can’t get mad at me for it here.”

“Well, what do you think here?” Jaskier asks, looking up at him, their faces only inches apart now.

Geralt thinks for a moment, looking into the young man’s cornflower blue eyes. He can’t deny that in waking life he has considered more than once how attractive the bard is. But even in waking it’s not something he’s considered at length, far more concerned with the constant challenge of keeping his curious human companion in one piece than anything else.

“What I think here is that you are still young.” Geralt says gently. He kisses Jaskier’s forehead and the bard heaves a sigh.

“You’re the worst soulmate ever, you know that?” He says, squinting up at him accusingly.

“I’ve never claimed to be anything else.” Geralt says, a little too soberly.

“What if we don’t see each other again for another three years?” Jaskier asks, smelling nervous again.

“That’ll probably mean we’re still traveling together fairly often.” Geralt reasons. “You know, if you leave me alone maybe we’ll see each other here more again.”

“Not a chance, witcher.” Jaskier says. “Not a chance.”

***

By the time they’ve traveled together for the better part of twelve years in waking life they’ve seen each other four more times in dreams. Which is not nearly enough, and somehow far too much.

“I’m going to ask you to escort me to Cintra tomorrow night for the betrothal feast, I got invited to play at it.” Jaskier says quietly against Geralt’s shoulder. The two of them are standing in the field of wildflowers together, simply holding each other after years of distance.

“I’ve been gone three days after a selkimore.” Geralt says with a smile. “How are you so sure I’m even alive?”

“Well now I know you’re alive.” Jaskier says, looking up at him with a grin. “I’ll remember.”

“You won’t.”

“I will.” Jaskier says, as if it’s a fact, not a wish. “And when you’re back you’ll probably be covered in all kinds of filth like usual and I’ve got a bath and everything all planned to butter you up to make you come with me.”

“I won’t like it.” Geralt warns.

“You don’t like anything.” Jaskier points out.

“I like you.” Geralt says.

Jaskier looks up at him with his thirty one year old eyes and tilts his head a bit. “How do you mean?”

“In waking life.” Geralt says simply. “I’ve started to really...like you. Unironically, I love having you around me.

“You absolute bastard! I knew it!” Jaskier cries in delight, taking hold of Geralt’s shirt collar. “And yet you still pretend we aren’t friends, but you do like me. I see you listening to all my songs from the back of the tavern, and the way you smile just a little when I talk too long even though you aren’t listening, and you are going to agree to come to Cintra with me aren’t you?”

“I probably will.” Geralt sighed. “When was the last time I told you no?”

“You tell me not to do things all the time, I just don’t listen.” Jaskier says with a smug grin.

“When was the last time you asked me for something and I didn’t eventually do it. Even if I didn’t outright agree.” Geralt corrects gently.

“Do you think...do you think we’ll remember soon?” Jaskier says, eyes wide in hope.

Geralt thinks they might, he really does. Even when awake he’s taken to being far more protective of the bard, keeping him close whenever he can, wanting him to stay. Wanting him. Even if he can’t even admit it to himself while awake.

But he just can’t bear to get his bard’s hopes up when he knows he can’t guarantee anything upon waking. For them to remember both of them have to want to be together, and for years now they’ve only been waiting on him.

“Perhaps.” He says with a shrug. He rests a hand against Jaskier’s face and the bard leans into his touch. “But I hope so.”

“Geralt, can I kiss you?” Jaskier asks, as calmly as if asking whether it was raining outside.

“If you like.” Geralt says.

Their first kiss is as gentle as the breeze whispering through the wildflowers at their feet, as calm as the small brook that flows past them.

The dream fades before they have the chance for a second one.

***

Geralt is sitting in the wildflower field with his head in his hands. Even in dreams his constant waking headache hasn’t left him, in fact it almost seems worse.

Because it’s been five months since Cintra, and everything has gone exactly wrong.

He hears Jaskier appear behind him but doesn’t move. Footsteps through the grass, and then the pleasant warmth of Jaskier draping himself over Geralt’s back, slim arms wrapping around his neck as the bard kisses just behind his ear.

“Well, I assume it’s safe to say that neither of us saw that coming.” Jaskier says with a tired chuckle. “You left in a marvelous huff before I could ask, why did you claim the law of surprise? Really Geralt, after seeing all that, what on earth were you thinking?”

“That you would think it was a terribly funny joke when I inherited a new second hand crown or a fine jacket from it. That we’d both get a laugh from it after such a trying night.” Geralt says hoarsely, having no reason to lie.

“Geralt...” Jaskier says, at a loss for words.

Geralt doesn’t move as they sit in silence, because they both already know that if he hadn’t invoked the law of surprise then he wouldn’t have stormed off on his own, that he and Jaskier would have stayed together, that they just might have remembered each other by now.

And instead they are now alone in waking life, who knew how far apart. For who knew how long this time.

Geralt feels his hair pulled loose out of its half ponytail and Jaskier’s long fingers begin to comb through it. It eases his headache a bit and he closes his eyes.

“But why did you run so fast and so far?” Jaskier asks quietly. “You’d disappeared before I’d even gotten to my feet Geralt, you were long gone by the time I got back to the inn. No one says you have to actually take the child for your own, you could just be a sort of godparent couldn’t you? Just visiting every now and then like a kind uncle, they won’t even be born for-”

“Because I can’t stand it when destiny gets her hooks in children, and this time it’s my fault.” Geralt growls. “When that baby is born they’re going to be caged in at every side by destiny. No matter what they do, they’ll never be able to escape being a child surprise. They aren’t even born yet and their choice is already stripped from them. Because of me.”

Jaskier’s fingers go still in his hair.

“Is that why you hate the idea of soulmates so much?” Jaskier asks quietly.

“This, no, this isn’t about that.” Geralt shakes his head, but Jaskier is already gone from his back.

The bard moves in front of him, sitting down in the grass and looking at Geralt, trapping his gaze. “Is this why we haven’t remembered each other in waking life yet?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt can’t quite tell what emotion it is flavoring the bard’s voice this time, but it’s something sad. “Because deep down you think I’m trapped in this, so that’s why you keep pushing me away? That I have no choice but to be herded back to you by destiny? Is this because I was a child when we first met?”

“That isn’t what I-”

“No, you know what? It’s my turn to talk.” Jaskier says, and the sadness in his voice is so close to anger now that Geralt wishes he was anywhere else but here. “You always say that you don’t believe in destiny and that everything’s up to chance, but we both know that’s not true. I don’t love you because destiny told me to, I love you because you’re the best man I’ve ever met, here or awake. You’ve been the only person I can always rely on, even when you pretend you hate me.

“And think of Urcheon and Pavetta! They had it exactly the same as us, he was already grown when Pavetta was born too, and they still loved each other and remembered their soulmate dreams when they met in person. And now they’re together despite the greatest odds all because of destiny, and after what we both saw at that feast don’t you dare tell me that their love for each other isn’t real.”

“And now they owe their unborn child to a witcher.” Geralt says sourly.

“And why is that so terrible?” Jaskier cries in frustration. “You’re a lovely man Geralt, why is being connected to a child such a terrible concept to you?”

“Because I was a child surprise Jaskier!” Geralt shouts, he doesn’t remember getting to his feet, but now he’s standing over the bard. “Where do you think all the old wives tales of witchers stealing children come from?”

“But those are just tales, they don’t-” Jaskier says weakly.

“Every witcher was a child surprise.” Geralt says hotly. “That’s where we all come from. A life is saved and the law of surprise is demanded in return, and when the child is old enough to walk they’re whisked away, no matter how hard the parents beg. Because it’s destiny. And then seven out of ten of those little boys dies in terrible agony. Because it’s their destiny. My mother couldn’t have kept me back if she wanted to, I don’t even know if she wanted to Jaskier. My entire life has been set by some great unseeing hand and I hate it, and now it’s used me to get its claws into the unborn heir of Cintra, all because I couldn’t keep my idiot mouth shut. Do you perhaps, in all your sage acceptance of fate, see how that could perhaps possibly upset me?”

“Geralt, I didn’t know.” Jaskier says, face pale.

“No, you didn’t.” Geralt snaps. “Because as lovely as things are in this bloody field while we’re asleep, in waking my life is a terrible, dangerous, dark thing. Destiny decided before I was even born that I was to face pain and death every second of my unnaturally long life. I’m always going to be at the end of a blade, and the only thing that’ll keep me from being on the wrong end is if I treat everything around me like a threat. That is why we haven’t remembered each other in waking Jaskier, because you don’t belong in a life like that. I refuse to trap you in that with me.”

The breeze that is always brushing across the wildflower field has disappeared, leaving things unnaturally silent as Jaskier stares up at him. Wide blue eyes gazing at him, mercilessly soft. Geralt wishes that Jaskier would jump up too, that he would start yelling back at him, shove him, give him something else to react against. But he doesn’t.

“Do you love me?” Jaskier asks, watching him.

“What do you mean?” Geralt says.

“Do you?” Jaskier asks.

“Of course I do.”

“Good.”

“What do you mean, good?”

“Because I love you,” Jaskier says simply, picking a pale yellow wildflower from the grass by his knee. “and if we both still love each other that means we’ll manage to find each other again once you come to your senses.”

“Jaskier, I-”

“You don’t get to bad mouth destiny for supposedly taking away my choice and then go and try to take it away yourself.” Jaskier says, getting to his feet.

Geralt finds himself powerless to move as the bard tucks the flower behind his ear and kisses his cheek. Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck.

“I’ve been in your life for twelve waking years witcher,” Jaskier says gently in his ear. “And I’m not a child anymore. By now I know exactly what I’m getting myself into every time I tag along you know, I choose to be around you. I want to be with you. I’ll see you again.”

Geralt closes his eyes, gritting his teeth. Then he sighs, resting his head on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt says.

For yelling at him? For trying to force Jaskier’s hand? For abandoning him without a word in waking life? Or just for destiny tying them together in the first place? Maybe all four.

“Everything will be alright.” Jaskier says, kissing the corner of his mouth. “With us and with your child surprise. Even if it takes a while to get there.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of me?” Geralt asks. “How can you stand to be around me, even when I try driving you away?”

“I can always tell you don’t mean it.” Jaskier says, looking serious. “Deep down I think I know it’s not the real you when you act like that. But you’re lucky my waking self is convinced we’re soulmates and that we’ll wake up any moment, because sometimes you really are a prick Geralt.”

“You really think we’re soulmates when you’re awake?” Geralt asks, looking him in the eyes.

“It’s a ridiculously optimistic wish I can’t manage to make myself let go of.” Jaskier says with a shrug. “But we both know I’m a bit of an idiot.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt agrees.

“Not nearly as much of an idiot as you, but we make a fine pair I’ll admit.” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt moves to kiss him, but the dream fades before he has the chance.

***

The next time they meet he kisses Jaskier before he has the chance to say anything.

“Well. Hello, you.” Jaskier says, breathless but smiling as Geralt finally releases him from the kiss.

“Didn’t get to kiss you last time,” Geralt says, burying his face against Jasker’s neck and breathing in the bard’s scent. “Wanted to get it done first this time.”

“Well I certainly have no objection to that.” Jaskier hums. “I miss you you know, it’s been a few years. I’ve started courting a countess in your absence if you can believe it.”

“How terribly unfortunate for you.” Geralt says. He laughs as Jaskier smacks him.

***

“So. Yennifer.” Jaskier says quietly.

The two of them are curled up together in the long grass, Jaskier’s back against Geralt’s chest. The bard traces his fingers aimlessly over the arm Geralt has around his waist.

“Hmmm.” Geralt says, burying his nose in Jaskier’s hair, as if that will somehow keep them from the topic. But this is the first time they’ve seen each other since the djinn, so of course they’re going to talk about it.

“You know for not wanting people to be attached to you through cosmic means, you’re terrible at it.” Jaskier says.

“I really don’t need a reminder.” Geralt grumbles, closing his eyes tiredly.

“Why did you bind yourself to her?” Jaskier asks, words crisp. As if trying his hardest to keep them unemotional.

“She saved your life Jaskier, I couldn’t let her die.”

Geralt nearly whines as Jaskier pulls away from him, sitting up to look him in the face.

“She framed you for something that nearly got you executed, and then she tried to rope me into a dark ritual that went so badly it ripped an entire manor to pieces.” Jaskier says flatly. “You’d known her all of a few hours. You absolutely could have let her die.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt sighs.

“Is it because she’s older than you?” Jaskier says, his tone back to the flat clipped tone that means he’s hiding his emotions. “Is it because she’s powerful? Because she hates you? Everything I’m not?”

“Jaskier, no.” Geralt says, pushing himself up with a frown. “Yen is a good person, she’s just very old and hurting.”

“So you want her as your soulmate instead because she’s like you.” Jaskier says. “Because you can’t want things for yourself if they don’t involve something dangerous enough to kill you. That’s why you really like her isn’t it? Because chasing after her gives you the same rush as hunting monsters, it’s all you know how to do.”

“This is not about replacing you.” Geralt says, reaching for his wrist. “You’ve been with plenty of other people, that countess of yours kept you occupied for several years, why am I not allowed the same?”

“Because I don’t bind their souls to me with a djinn wish!” Jaskier snaps, yanking his arm away and getting to his feet.

“Jaskier, please, I’m sorry.” Geralt says, kneeling in front of the bard, hands up in surrender. “A djinn can’t kill its master, the only way I could think to save her was by binding her to me. It’s magic that can be undone, it’s not the same as destiny. I couldn’t let her die after she saved you. I would have broken if you’d died because of me.”

Jaskier crosses his arms, swallowing hard as he looks away. But he doesn’t say anything.

“And you’re right,” Geralt says, pressing on in the way he only ever manages when he’s not awake, when there’s only Jaskier to hear him. Where not even he will remember what he said in a few hours. “I am attracted to her because she’s like me. We have a lot of the same pain, a lot of the same fears.”

“Oh? And what is it that Yennefer of Vengerburg is so afraid of?” Jaskier says hotly.

“That she’ll never truly be loved, that’s she’s so far from human that no one will ever be able to need and care about her.” Geralt says.

“You can’t honestly believe that about yourself.” Jaskier says, looking at him with an expression of sad anger.

“I do when I’m awake.” Geralt says quietly. Because what else can he say?

Jaskier clenches his jaw, making a muffled irritated sound as he turns and stomps a few steps away, rubbing his face before turning back.

“How can you be so thick?” he cries, sharply gesturing at him with both hands. “How Geralt? How can you possibly be this dense? Why must you always see something simple and think to yourself, how can I make this as complicated as possible instead, hmmm? Is that something they taught you in Witcher school, all those apparently eons ago since you’re sooo old that you’re beyond the reach of human love and reason? You drag yourself into every terrible situation you can find, and then you have the audacity to be shocked when it has less than optimal results. Every single time.”

Jaskier is rambling. Which Geralt knows by now means less that the bard truly means what he says, and more that the man is trying very hard not to cry.

Geralt silently gets to his feet and catches Jaskier, pulling him into an embrace despite the bard’s protests and struggling. Jaskier hisses and pushes at him, hitting his chest, but then the bard goes limp in his arms, beginning to cry into Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt says nothing, having nothing he can say. So he just holds Jaskier as the man sobs, looks up at the blue nothing sky.

“I hate these dreams.” Jaskier says thickly, face buried against Geralt’s neck. “I hate them. Everything is simpler when I’m awake, I hate remembering that things could be better, I wish I could just forget.”

“You don’t mean that.” Geralt says, his heart breaking.

“Don’t I?” Jaskier says, looking up at him with red rimmed eyes, tears running down his cheeks. “When I’m awake at least I have the luxury of thinking you’re an unrealistic fantasy, I can think every second I have with you is the best I’ve ever had. When I’m here I’m reminded every minute of what I don’t have, and even worse that you do care. It’s like having two hearts to be broken instead of only one Geralt.”

“Jaskier...please...” Geralt says helplessly, words failing him as surely as if he were awake. “If I knew how to fix this I would, you know I would.”

“I don’t know that anymore Geralt, that’s the problem.” Jaskier cries. “Because all I’ve ever heard you say in waking is that you don’t want to be needed, and when I’m here all you ever talk about is how much you don’t want me in your life with you. What am I supposed to think Geralt?”

“I...”

I’m not good at this.

I’m only pushing you away to protect you because I really do love you.

I need you.

But Geralt can’t figure out how to get the feelings from his brain to his mouth, leaving him stumbling for words as Jaskier watches him.

Geralt feels the dream fading around them and it only blocks his speech worse as he panics.

Jaskier disappears from his arms.

***

The next time Geralt finds himself in the wildflower field he is immediately consumed by a prickling feeling of guilt and panic that curls in his gut. Because even in waking he’s been consumed by uneasy guilt for the last two weeks, convinced he’s made a truly deep mistake but not quite knowing why underneath all his justifications.

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

...I’ll see you around Geralt...

And now he knows exactly why, with excruciating clarity.

He sees a figure in the distance, watching him. Jaskier’s shirt is whipping in the stiff wind that races across the wildflower field, stronger than it’s ever been before, ripping petals off stems. The blue nothing sky has become a dark grey nothing sky above them, and sharp, dangerous shadows stretch across the field from nowhere.

“Jaskier!” Geralt shouts, starting toward him. He has to reach him, he has to make things right, fix what he’s done. He’s messed up far too badly this time, he has to fix this.

Jaskier doesn’t move, just watches him approach as the wind picks up even stronger, ripping up blades of grass and dirt that pelt against Geralt as he picks up speed.

“Jaskier, I-!”

Jaskier turns away from Geralt and walks away.

He takes two steps and vanishes completely into thin air.

Geralt stumbles to a halt, shielding his face as he shouts Jaskier’s name, not even hearing himself above the howling of the wind. He tries to push forward but is knocked to his knees. He squeezes his eyes shut against the gale, hunching down to dig his fingers into the ground to try and anchor himself, but everything feels like it is slipping, being ripped away from around him as he tries desperately to-

***

Geralt jolts upright, already half to his feet in a blind panic before the sleep clears from his head. He looks around and sees his camp. He’s awake. He’s alone. His pulse is racing from his dream.

He pants as he sits back down on his bedroll, forcing himself to take deep breaths as his heart beats far too fast for a witcher.

The noises of the forest night gently ease back into his senses as he rubs his face. The chirping of crickets, the whispering of a night breeze in the tree branches above him, the soft noises of Roach, who is watching him with worried interest from where she is grazing a few yards away in the dark. His campfire hasn’t even burned down to embers yet, so he gets up and throws on another log for the flames to eat at, trying to ignore the cold sweat covering him as he shakes slightly.

Because he hasn’t been able to sleep for three days now. Not even meditating helps for long.

Because every time he truly slips into unconsciousness he ends up in the same nightmare, and he doesn’t even know why it’s a nightmare. He’s always standing alone in the middle of a torn up field cast in a dark reddish light, strewn with the dead wreckage of uprooted grass and flowers. There is a dried up streambed and the air is dead still around him, feeling nearly suffocating.

And that’s all there is. Geralt’s never even seen the field before that he knows of, but every nightly visit fills him with such a sick feeling of loss that he wakes up shaking.

The night before it all started he’d actually woken up crying.

Though he doesn’t remember what it is he dreamed of that night.

“It’s got to be a warning.” Geralt says to Roach as he pulls a waterskin from his pack, voice not shaking. “If it’s the same vision repeated. But I don’t know what for, I never see anyone or anything. There’s not even buildings...just...dead flowers...”

He sits heavily on a log near the side of the campfire, drinking from the waterskin as he tries to pull his thoughts back together. But as he does his mind turns immediately to the other thing he’s been desperately trying not to think about.

Because he may be haunted by a dead field in his dreams, but when he’s awake all he can see is the back of a red doublet. All he can hear is his own angry words ringing in his mind. Jaskier’s unsteady ones in reply. Playing over and over and over and over-

“What am I supposed to do?” Geralt growls, throwing his hands up at the sky. Roach startles a little at his near shouting but Geralt isn’t even sure he’s talking to her anymore. To himself? Maybe. “I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I’m alone...”

Didn’t he want to be alone? Isn’t that what he’s been claiming his entire life?

“He was going to get hurt.” Geralt says lamely, his worn out excuse sounding pitiful. “He’s already spent too much of his life around me...he should be somewhere else...”

Nevermind that after so many years of company Geralt is always miserable without the bard beside him, no matter how much he tries to deny it. No matter that he knows for a fact that he’d hurt Jaskier worse than any monster they’d faced over the years when he’d shouted at him on that mountain.

The part that really hurts though is that Geralt knows he hadn’t even blamed Jaskier for things that were really his fault. He’d targeted Jaskier knowing he would take it, that the bard was the one person in the world who always stuck by him no matter how he treated him.

And it made Geralt sick. He’d finally crossed the line. Crossed the line and lost what he hadn’t known he had.

No, because that was a lie too. He knows he loves Jaskier, has for years. He’s just too much of a coward to accept it. Not when there is so much love bursting out of the bard, a frightening amount of care and affection waiting right in front of him. Something that Geralt can’t stand to lose, and therefore couldn’t risk touching, in case he harms it.

Geralt snarls at himself, starting to gather up his camp. Roach knickers curiously as he saddles her and packs everything into saddlebags, then goes over and stomps out the campfire. There was no use hanging around if he wasn’t going to be able to sleep anyway. That and he needs to get on the trail before he loses his nerve.

“Come on Roach.” he barks, pulling himself up into the saddle and digging in his heels.

Roach winnies and starts off under the light of the moon as Geralt steers her back to the main road.

If Geralt rides hard they could be back to the mountain in a day or two and he can track Jaskier from there. On foot the bard won’t have made it too far in three weeks, Geralt knows Jaskier prefers staying days or even weeks at a time in each town when Geralt isn’t with him. If he’s lucky he might be able to track him down in three or four days time.

He only hopes he won’t be collapsing from lack of sleep by then. He still has no idea how to treat his nightmares, should probably contact Triss or Yen about it before he goes mad, but Jaskier at least he knows how to find.

He has no idea what he can possibly say to the bard when he does, but even riding in the right direction makes him feel a little better. He just tries not to think about how long he’s been riding in the wrong one.

***

Jaskier has been bleeding for three weeks, but it’s the kind that no one else can see.

He bleeds into his lyrics, he bleeds into the notes he sings. Late at night he lays in bed, staring blankly at the wall of his inn room, feeling his sadness seep down into the sheets under him. Leaving him feeling hollow and cold.

The coin is good. People are moved by his music. The inn rooms are good. Paid for by the coin.

He supposed he could have found himself good company as well if he’d been able to look anyone in the eye.

Instead he is sitting outside in the dark. Alone. He sits under a tree near the empty market square of the town he’s been staying in for a week now, only the low flickering glow of hung lanterns to keep him company as he watches the night around him. It must be close to midnight, but he’s been sitting here since sunset, his lute laying silently in his lap, watching the night with him.

Because Jaskier does not know why it hurts so much, why being chased off by Geralt of Rivia has cut him to his very core in a way nothing else ever has. Especially since, despite the cheerful face he wears, Jaskier is no stranger to grief and disappointment.

Jaskier had longed after Geralt from the moment they met, back when he was practically still a child. They’d become good friends, despite what the Witcher often claimed, and Jaskier had always thought something was different about them. There must have been with the way Geralt allowed him closer and longer than anyone else in his life. Jaskier knew that Geralt cared about him underneath all of his emotional barriers, in recent years he’d even thought...had even suspected that...

Jaskier takes a slow, deep breath of the cool night air. He has been still so long that his body feels a step distant. As if he is merely a spirit watching invisibly with the trees as the night air brushes through the sparse grass in the empty marketplace. He wonders if this is how Geralt feels when he meditates.

He’ll never know now. Not now that Jaskier is finally realizing that it’s over. That he will no longer track down the Witcher, can never again follow behind him. Because if after all this time, after all these years, Geralt truly wants him gone...then Jaskier will finally give up.

So why does it feel like something deep inside of him has broken?

Jaskier watches as a figure makes its way down the street toward the square, a large man who is moving slowly. Jaskier watches with a detached kind of interest, this is simply the latest passerby to wander through the square this evening and Jaskier sits in the deep shadow of the tree, tucked safely out of sight.

But as the man moves closer Jaskier feels a prickle of unease. The man is moving more strangely than he’d realized, slowing every few steps as if...smelling the air...

Jaskier’s pulse quickens as his brain starts flipping through his mental catalogue of beasts and monsters, one that is quite extensive after decades of traveling with a witcher. He suddenly feels very foolish for indulging his dramatic side by staying out so late alone, his warm inn room with its lovely lockable door feels as if it is on the opposite side of the continent.

In the dark of the night Jaskier makes out the creature stopping, as if it can hear his pounding heart, and then Jaskier breaks into a cold sweat as whatever it is heads directly toward him, eyes reflecting unnaturally in the weak light of the lanterns.

Jaskier stumbles to his feet, clutching his lute in one hand and drawing his silver dagger with the other. A gift from Geralt he’s worn for the better part of twenty years now, having been taught to use it after a life on the road.

“Stay back.” Jaskier says in as clear a voice as he can manage, brandishing the dagger. “I’m armed with silver and I have no interest in a fight tonight. Take yourself elsewhere.”

The figure stops, hands held up. “Jaskier, it’s me.” Says an all too familiar voice.

Jaskier feels a raw place inside of him ache as Geralt cautiously edges a bit closer, enough to be illuminated by the light of a lantern.

Jaskier’s hand trembles on the dagger, and then he sheaths it. He turns and walks away without a word, feeling a clawing sense of deja vu as he walks toward his inn.

“Jaskier, please.” Geralt’s voice says, and of course the Witcher keeps up easily, walking by his side as Jaskier refuses to look at him.

After three weeks of bleeding he just doesn’t have anything left to give. He is drained, he can’t even look at Geralt.

“Jaskier-”

He jerks as he feels a hand close on his wrist. He feels tears start to prick in his eyes as he yanks his arm away, turning to look Geralt square in the face.

“Why are you here?” Jaskier demands, his voice nearly a snarl as he looks up at the witcher. “What do you want, Geralt?”

Geralt stops, looking stung. Good, as he should. The brute probably hasn’t even given what he did a second thought the whole time Jaskier’s felt like dying.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.” Geralt says, sounding gruff and oddly off balance.

“Go back to whatever contract it is you’re working and leave me alone.” Jaskier snaps, struggling to keep down the hot tears he can feel rising. “I left, just like you wanted, alright? Now go.”

“I didn’t...I...” Geralt struggles for words, huffing in frustration as he rubs his face.

Jaskier can’t tell for sure in the dim light but he thinks he sees dark circles under the witcher’s eyes, as if he hasn’t been sleeping. He’s...never seen Geralt look this worn out before...

He swallows, trying his best to push away the concern rising in him as he starts to notice signs of distress all over Geralt. Bags under his eyes, his hair loose and unbrushed, armor dusty with hard travel but clean of the viscera that would mean he’d been getting work. Things that perhaps only Jaskier would notice.

“You didn’t what?” Jaskier asks, hating himself for still caring enough to be worried, his voice losing a bit of its heat.

“I didn’t...mean it.” Geralt says, his voice sounding a little hoarse as he gets the words out.

“Didn’t mean what?” Jaskier demands, folding his arms as tightly as he can, as if that will shield him from this distressed witcher who has tracked him down in the middle of the night. Who doesn’t look at all like he’s working a contract. Who looks as tired as Jaskier has felt for weeks.

“What I said.” Geralt says, swallowing as he looks away, as if unable to meet Jaskier’s gaze. “On the mountain. I was angry. I was unfair to you.”

Jaskier feels stunned, unable to say anything.

Geralt...is apologizing.

“I know I’m a terrible companion-” Geralt says, continuing in the silence.

“You are.” Jaskier says, his voice higher than it should be.

“But...everything feels wrong without you.” Geralt looks up, catching Jaskier’s gaze with his steady golden amber eyes. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at words like you are Jaskier. But I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said.”

Geralt looks like he is biting the inside of his cheek, as if he’s scared. Jaskier has seen Geralt upset, uneasy, surprised, hesitant, even startled. But never scared, and he finds it scares him.

“I...” Geralt swallows, looking like he is bracing himself for something painful. “I need you Jaskier. And I know that I’ve made things so difficult, and I know that you have no reason to forgive me, but I don’t think I can pretend anymore that I...that I don’t care for you. Even if that means you might be in harm’s way. Because you’ve been by my side for decades, and I don’t want to continue without you.”

Jaskier feels as if the ground has dropped out from under his feet, as if he’s been slammed back against the wall behind him. His head is an overwhelming mess of fragmented thoughts and emotions, because what on earth is happening?

He presses a hand tight against his mouth as he turns away from Geralt, unable to handle his gaze a moment longer as he tries desperately to think, to pull together some of those words he’s so well known for. He can do this, he can come up with some scrappy, witty reply. He can shrug all of this off with a joke that will clear everything up and they’ll be on their way again.

Just like he has for the past twenty two years now.

But instead Jaskier’s chest shudders and he feels hot tears spill down his cheeks as he begins to cry. His shoulders tremble as he tries to stifle the emotion down behind the hand he has painfully tight against his mouth, his other arm still held against himself as if it could hold him together.

Because he’d thought he’d been bleeding for three weeks, in a way no one else could see, but suddenly he thinks perhaps he’s been bleeding for far longer than that...that perhaps he’s been bleeding for years. And he suddenly doesn’t know if that’s something he can go back to. Because Geralt says that he cares for him, which Jaskier knows for this vocabulary sparse witcher means love.

And if Geralt loves him, can Jaskier really chance losing himself entirely should things go wrong again? Because if he forgives Geralt this time, if he allows himself to want the witcher this time, Geralt will have all of him. Jaskier won’t be able to hold back, he knows it, he won’t be able to keep the vulnerable parts of himself safe anymore.

And that scares him more than he’s ever been scared in his life.

He braces his free hand against the wall as he shakes. It feels as if some secret part of him, some reservoir of extra years of sadness and longing and hurt he hadn’t known about have come loose, flooding him with an overwhelming wave of unexpected emotion. But where is it coming from? He wildly wonders if perhaps he is dying. Because this is what he imagines dying would feel like.

“Julian. I’m sorry.” Geralt says, his voice full of so much pain and concern that it makes Jaskier cry harder. He feels the faintest pressure ghost over his shoulder, as if Geralt had nearly reached out for him but then pulled back. “Do you want me to go? I’ll leave if you want me to. I’m sorry, I don’t, I didn’t mean....”

“Don’t!” Jaskier says, the word coming out in a teary panic. “Don’t leave.”

Because as much as he wants all of this to somehow disappear, even if he can’t bring himself to turn around just yet, the one thing he knows that will not be able to stand is if Geralt leaves him like this.

He bites his lip hard as he feels warm, hesitant hands on his arms. And then Geralt pulls him against him in a tight hug, arms wrapped around Jaskier’s chest protectively. Jaskier leans back against him, holding onto Geralt’s arms like a lifeline, fighting to get his breathing under control as the physical contact anchors him, somehow making everything seem less like it’s spinning out from under him. Geralt has never held Jaskier like this, but it still somehow feels familiar, it feels safe and right and has Jaskier wishing it could always like this.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt says again quietly, his voice right next to Jaskier’s ear. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” Jaskier says, his breath finally under control. He feels a cool breeze sweep past them. “But it’s so hard to keep this up Geralt, I can’t stand only remembering how much I really love you when we’re asleep, when we’re waking it’s like-”

Jaskier’s breath catches as the same instant that Geralt’s does, memories of a wildflower field rushing through him. Years of friendship and love and trust revealing themselves like a flower unfurling. His fingers dig into Geralt’s arm in shock as the witcher’s embrace tightens almost painfully, because of course if Jaskier is remembering, they both are.

“W-we’re awake.” Jaskier chokes. He turns in Geralt’s arms, looking up at him. “We’re awake.”

“We’re awake.” Geralt says, his voice thin with shocked wonder.

“We’re awake!” Jaskier cries, throwing his arms around Geralt’s neck as his tears begin anew. But this time he is laughing through them as Geralt crowds him up against the wall, kissing him hard and desperate.

“I haven’t slept in a week.” Geralt says between kisses, his voice raw with emotion as his hands roam Jaskier’s body, as if checking to make sure it’s really him. “I thought I’d lost you, the field, it’s all ripped up, I didn’t know where you’d gone.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier gasps, carding his fingers through Geralt’s white hair even as he pulls him closer. “I’m sorry Geralt, I was so hurt and angry, I couldn’t stand it anymore when I didn’t think you cared anymore. But you’re here, we’re both here and we’re awake and we remember. You really want me with you then? If we both remember?”

“I’ve always wanted you with me little lark, I just took too long to realize it.” Geralt says, burying his face against Jaskier’s neck and breathing in his scent.

“I can’t believe we aren’t trapped in that wretched field anymore.” Jaskier says giddily, nuzzling against Geralt’s temple as he runs his hands down the witcher’s sides, just because he can. “We can get something to eat together, we can see a sunset, we can sleep in a bed, we can be around other people.” His eyes light up. “I have my lute! I can play you songs instead of only singing!”

“We’ve already done all of those things.” Geralt says with a fond smile, kissing stray tears off of Jaskier’s face.

“But now we can really do them. Together. Because we’re finally both here.” Jaskier says, taking Geralt’s face in his hands and kissing him softly.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” Geralt says, eyes closed as he rests his forehead against Jaskier’s. “I’m sorry I hurt you, little lark.”

“Hush. No more apologizing.” Jaskier says, stroking his thumb against Geralt’s cheek, his heart flutters as the witcher leans into his touch. “This is all I’ve ever wanted, you’ve already given me the best proof you can that you really mean it.”

“What do we even do now?” Geralt says with a chuckle, shaking his head a bit with a smile. “We won’t fade away in less than an hour, what do people even do with so much time together?”

Jaskier smiles as the witcher’s last last words are drowned in an enormous yawn. He wraps his arms around Geralt’s neck, gently kissing down the side of his throat.

“First you are going to carry me back to the inn and we are going to sleep until tomorrow evening because you look ready to fall over, darling.” Jaskier says softly. “And when we wake up we’ll still be together, and we will still remember we are together.”

“Mmmm.” Geralt hums appreciatively, hoisting Jaskier up into his arms with little effort. “And then?”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something to occupy ourselves.” Jaskier says, resting a hand on Geralt’s chest and leaning up to bite at his lower lip. “I’ve got some very time consuming ideas we can try. I have the room paid for through the end of the week, fresh heartbreak sells very well you know.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Geralt says soberly, holding him closer as he begins to walk toward the inn.

“You already have.” Jaskier says softly, resting his head against Geralt’s shoulder.

There are so many things that must still be discussed, how this changes things. But Jaskier can’t find himself quite caring at the moment, instead closing his eyes he basks in the warm feeling.

Because he feels that he is home. A home that he will finally never have to leave again.

#the witcher #geralt #jaskier #dandelion #geraskier #wit writes #apparently my 'oh let me write a quick little thing' ideas come in 500 words or 10k #no inbetween #I wanted to see if I could make a soulmate au that had plausible reasons for not recognizing each other right away instead of relying #on bad communication #and here we is #and geraskier weeks has been so fun to read I figure I might as well throw mine into the ring too

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avengerscompound · 5 years ago

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Not So Different - Chapter 1

Not So Different: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 915

Rating: M

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo - Chance Encounters

Warnings: smut and angst on series, Reader is an animal liberationist. This chapter has some grand larceny and breaking and entering as well as cap being maced in the face.

Synopsis: When Steve Rogers comes across you liberating hens from a battery farm his initial reaction is to arrest you. He certainly wouldn’t assume that the woman who he initially pegs as a criminal might not be so different from him after all.

A/N: I haven’t decided if I will tag my full taglist or not. Interactions have been low lately and I plan on publishing this 3 times a week, so tagging will be time-consuming. This is in no way a threat or guilt trip, just a practical time thing, but if the notes are under 200 on this chapter I’ll only tag specifically in the fic. If you want to be tagged in this - even if you are on my permanent tag list - please let me know in case I switch to a fic specific taglist only.

Chapter 1

Steve had woken early. Even for him, it was early. The numbers on his bedside clock flashed 3.18 in big red numbers. He had rolled over and tried to get back to sleep but it didn’t seem to want to come.

He got up and stretched, put on his sweats, grabbed his water bottle, and went for a run.

It was eerily quiet Upstate at this hour. During the day there were always the sounds of the compound running. Recruits out training. Jets landing or taking off. The sounds of explosions from the labs that he never found out the reason for, and quite frankly didn’t want to know. What Tony and Bruce got up to, could stay between them.

At 3.45am it was just quiet, except for the sound of crickets. He crunched down the gravel by the side of the road. It got darker the further he got from the Compound and at the rate he ran, he was moving away from it quickly.

He’d been running for forty minutes when something caught his attention. The sounds of hens cackling and squawking broke through the perpetual high-pitched buzz of the crickets. Steve stopped and looked over to where it was coming from. He knew there was a chicken farm here but he was pretty sure they shouldn’t be making that kind of noise at this time of the night.

Deep in the gloom, he spotted a shape. It moved crouched low carrying a box or a crate and seemed to stack it on to a pile before running off into the barn again.

The thought of someone stealing chickens or eggs was bizarre to Steve, but given there were no lights on and it was close to four in the morning, that was the only logical answer to what was actually going on.

The facility was surrounded by a tall fence, surrounded by razor wire. Steve knew the gate was a half-mile further up the road and figured he could get to it before whoever it was got too far with those boxes. About halfway down he discovered he didn't need to bother. There was a pickup parked behind a bush. The tray already had a stack of those crates in the back, each one contained two or three chickens.

Steve couldn't see them well in the dark but he couldn't figure out why anyone would steal so many chickens. Was it a rival chicken company? Or maybe someone wanting to have a big cook-out without the overhead expenses? It seemed risky to break into a place with this much security for free chicken.

He took note of the license plate, put his water by a shrub, and moved to the side of the truck. The wire fence has been cut. Rather than going down to meet whoever this was, he thought he'd wait for them. At least maybe hear what they had to say. He couldn't think of a good reason to steal chickens but who knew? Maybe it was just someone desperate to feed their family.

It wasn’t long before you appeared into the gloom pushing a little cart stacked high with crates of chickens in front of you.

You didn't seem to notice him right away. Too intent on getting the cart through the fence. When you’d pushed it through you moved to the other side and stopped suddenly, staring at him.

“Ma’am,” Steve said. “Care to tell me why you’re stealing a bunch of chickens?”

“Do you work here?” You asked.

“Well, no…”

“Are you a cop?”

He gave his head the smallest of shakes. “Not exactly.”

You dropped your guard and went and picked up one of the crates. “Then mind your own fucking business.”

“Ma’am,” Steve said and went to grab your arm.

You reacted remarkably swiftly, dropping the crate again and making the chickens squawk loudly. You pulled out a can of mace from your pocket and spraying it directly into his eyes.

Supersoldier or not, that shit hurt. Pain flared in eyes and his vision went blurry. Steve reflexively released you and went to his utility belt for something to counteract it. He then remembered he wasn’t actually on duty right now, and he was in sweats, not his uniform. He took a deep breath and scrambled for where you put his water. By the time he was flushing his eyes out, you were in the truck and tearing down the street.

For a moment Steve considered chasing down the car. Reason got the best of him. He needed to get back and rinse his eyes out properly and he had your license plate number. He could run it later. You were a chicken thief, not HYDRA.

Before heading back he thought he would take the chickens you’d left back into the farm. It was when he approached your cart that he got his best idea at what it was you were doing.

The chickens looked sick. Most were missing feathers, some to the point of barely even having any. Looking at their legs he wasn’t sure if they’d be able to stand. He knew nothing about chickens but these birds looked like they needed to see a vet. He changed course again. He’d take the chickens back to the compound, wash out his eyes, and get these birds some medical attention. After he’d done all of that, then he’d track you down and see what the hell it was you were doing.

// NEXT

#starspangledbingo #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #not so different

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the-hidden-writer · 5 years ago

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A Second Chance: Chapter 9

An Ace Attorney fanfic. Read on both AO3 and FF.net!

Summary: Miles learns the identity of his “dead” mother, and the aftermath of that revelation is a tricky one. Especially when his newfound little sister is trying to turn him into a spirit medium.

AKA Miles is a Fey. Miles also doesn’t really know how to family properly.

Comments make my day! :D

The Question

“This is your last chance! I’m warning you! You take another step and I’ll- ARGH!”

Maya squealed and her chocolate eyes went wide as they peeked over the pillow she had started to clutch so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. Miles grimaced with an audible exhale of breath as he subtly averted his eyes from the screen, his teeth grabbing hold of his bottom lip in suspense.

Phoenix looked between them blankly.

“H-Ha, you... may have defeated me today Samurai… but my c- *cough* curse has already taken hold of you… I win…hahahaha-”

It was Friday and just as he’d sort-of-promised, Miles Edgeworth had arrived at Wright & Co. Law Offices to watch Steel Samurai with Maya clad in his usual attire. Phoenix felt guilty knowing he’d probably come straight from work but appreciated him coming anyway.

“Impossible!”

“Pa? Pa where…? Pa!!!”

A loud gasp broke the tense silence in the room. Maya squirmed in her seat, sending worried, questioning looks in Edgeworth’s direction. Edgeworth didn’t notice. He had his eyes glued to the screen.

“Pa! Are you alright?! What-”

“Suki, I… you’re all I ever wanted… you’ve made your father so proud…”

“Shh Pa, save your strength. I *sniff* I promise to finish what you started, Pa. I love you.”

“Suki…”

“P-Pa…”

“S…”

“Pa? Pa! PA!!!”

Once again, the silence in the room was shattered. This time by Maya’s muffled sniffs into her pillow. Phoenix, instinctively despite his confusion of exactly what was going on, reached out a hand to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly. Miles didn’t react.

“You did this, didn’t you Samurai?”

“I…”

“Of course you did. I’m not blind. I know how you’ve been destroying everything we’ve been working toward.”

“We?”

“Don’t take me for a fool! Pa told me everything. I know exactly what I have to do. And I know that the magnificent warrior Steel Samurai will never harm a vulnerable little girl like me.”

“You might be too young to realize Suki-chan, but you seem more than smart enough to know that I have responsibilities I must fulfil. The fate of Neo Olde Tokyo rests on my shoulders, and when you have been doing what I do for as long as I have, then maybe you will understand why I have to make an exception.”

“Pwaha, you would never-”

The screen went black just as the Steel Samurai moved to draw his katana, causing two-thirds of the room to exclaim their annoyance in extremely contrasting ways.

“Uh, yeah… that’s enough of that.” Said Phoenix with only a hint of apology.

“Nick!!!” “Wright.”

Alright, maybe not so contrasting after all. That might’ve been the first time Phoenix ever saw some kind of resemblance in the siblings.

“Hey, it was pretty much over anyways! Besides, I did it for a reason. Have you seen your faces? You look like ghosts.”

Truthfully, both Miles and Maya’s faces were extraordinarily drained of color when they’d simultaneously turned to face him (it was actually really creepy how in-sync they were). Phoenix may have purposely forgotten to mention the fact that this particular story arc could be compared to their own experiences. He was trying to do them a favor.

Miles cleared his throat and straightened his posture from his position on the floor where he sat with Maya. Phoenix was lucky enough to have the couch to himself. “Well…” he said. “I suppose you do know what happens next.”

Maya nodded solemnly. “Yeah… up ‘til now I was thinking why they pulled these episodes but now I think I get it.”

“It’s kinda messed up for a kid’s show.” Phoenix commented, unsurprisingly subjecting himself to fall victim to yet another simultaneous sibling glare. Individually they’d always been quite intimidating, but together? Their eyes bore into his soul so much that it genuinely felt like he was on trial all over again.

“Thanks for coming, Miles!” Said Maya, all-too-obviously choosing to ignore Phoenix’s statement. “It’s so much better to watch along with someone who understands art.”

“Hey-”

“Shut up, Nick.” “Noted.”

Edgeworth began to slowly push himself up from his awkward sitting position on the office floor. “It was my pleasure. I had a nice time.”

Phoenix noticed that his voice was quite clipped and he found it quite uncharacteristic of Miles to be so open with his compliments. Guess he really was a changed man.

“Actually, Maya, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask of you.”

Ah, there it was.

“Sure,” replied Maya, wiping her eyes as if she hadn’t been bawling her eyes out just minutes ago, “what’s up?”

Miles looked off to the side. “I was wondering if… with your blessing, of course… if I could visit Kurain Village. Talk to some of the people there.”

“Miles…” Phoenix began in concern, but Edgeworth held up a finger to silence him.

“I’ve been thinking about this a great deal, and it is something I want to do.”

It was understandable, Phoenix thought. Life hadn’t been kind to Edgeworth’s family, and it was only natural to want to get to know his mother’s traditions and the life he might have led. He was more surprised that he hadn’t asked sooner, seeing as Maya would be more than happy to-

“No.”

Edgeworth must have been as surprised as Phoenix was because his mask of neutrality suddenly disappeared and he looked both taken aback and absolutely heartbroken.

“N-No?”

“No.” Maya repeated, more firmly. “I’m sorry but that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?!” Miles protested loudly. Phoenix cringed at the outburst. He knew both of them well enough to be able to tell when they were getting riled up. This was not going to end well.

“It’s just that I don’t think it would go down well with the village, okay?! They have a bad history with men!”

Miles sprung up onto his feet. Maya did the same, took a step forward so that her face was inches away from Edgeworth’s chest, and looked up at him angrily. Phoenix sunk further into the couch.

“It’s a simple request!” He exclaimed, forcefully waving an arm to exaggerate his point. “You have no trouble taking Wright there!”

“Yeah that’s because Nick isn’t my brother and also not a main family Fey,” Maya yelled, “because like it or not, you’re-”

“I’M NOT A FEY!”

Maya’s mouth snapped shut instantly. Her chin began to wobble. She glared at Edgeworth with as much hatred she could possibly muster.

“I’m not a Fey and you have the same right to my father’s name as Wright does. Which is none!”

“Miles…” Uttered Phoenix, in an attempt to calm the man down. Said man wasn’t listening. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were darting around the room.

“Well,” Maya started quietly, “I’m sorry to break it to you but you are. I’m your sister, and that’s not changing anytime soon. So deal with it!”

“Where were you then?!” Miles argued, with a ferocity that Phoenix had never seen before, not even in court. “Where were you when I was being-”

He caught himself and sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger, and said with a voice barely above a whisper: “I’m sorry.”

Maya scoffed and replied in a voice equally as quiet. “You’re sorry. For what? Insulting me, our Mom, or my village’s entire way of life?”

Phoenix finally braved sitting up. “Guys, calm down.” He said. “We had a good time, you can talk about this properly another day.”

“So you call her our mother,” said Miles, completely ignoring Phoenix, “but you say that it’s your village?”

“It’s my home!” Maya countered. “Have you been there even once?”

Edgeworth didn’t answer.

“Thought so.”

“Perhaps if your mother had bothered to alert me of her existence, I would have visited considerably more often!”

“Oh yeah? Well maybe if your father had just taken the stairs then none of us would be in this mess, would we?!”

The silence that was left in the office was tense and sickly thick. Miles seemed at a loss for words. His cheeks were red as he puffed on the spot. Without a word, he grabbed his blazer and stormed toward the door.

“Wait!” Maya called as she ran after him, her sandals clicking against the hard floor.

He stopped and turned to look at her, eyes cold and unforgiving.

“That was stupid of me to say.” She looked down. “If you want to go to Kurain Village we can work toward it,” she suggested, “but you need to trust me. I don’t want you getting hurt, or worse, disgraced from the village.”

He seemed to acknowledge her for a second, before letting out a long sigh. “Alright. That’s… that’s a good idea.”

Phoenix let out his own sigh of relief from his spectator’s seat and stood up to join the pair. If he thought their last meeting was intense, this one rewrote the book in its entirety.

“See? You guys can get along!” He laughed, no humor in his voice.

“Not now, Wright.”

“Fair.”

The air felt lighter all of a sudden, and for the first time since Miles had arrived, it felt right.

Right until Maya opened up her arms.

She was already very close to Miles, but instead of accepting her embrace, he took a step back in surprise. When Phoenix caught his gaze over Maya’s shoulder, he nodded at him in encouragement.

And so he awkwardly hugged Maya back.

Suddenly Maya pulled back with a long gasp. “I have an idea!” She announced happily. “The perfect way to help you get accepted in the village!”

“What?” Phoenix and Edgeworth asked at the same time.

“We’re gonna teach you how to channel spirits!”

~-.-~

Brrrrrrrrrring!

“Uh, he-”

“Detective.”

“Oh, hey boss! You okay? It’s kinda late-”

“Detective, I need to ask you something. You have a brother, correct?”

“Nah, got one hell of a big sister though. Love her to bits. Why are you asking? Did something happen with Maya?”

“Do you ever… disagree with her?”

“Oh yeah, sure, sometimes. We get over it pretty quickly though. What happened?”

“That’s none of your business, detective.”

“Sorry, sir. I’m just worried about you, y’know?”

“...We had a rather intense argument. And then she suggested that I should…”

“Should what, sir?”

“Ugh, that I should start ‘spirit medium’ training.”

“It’s a real thing, I’ve seen her do it! It’s kinda creepy to be hone-”

“It’s preposterous! I’ve witnessed her doing it too, but I… really don’t want to involve myself in all of that. I told her as much.”

“And what did she say?”

“She was so excited about it, and I didn’t want to upset her again so I begrudgingly agreed.”

“I thought it was a girls-only thing?”

“So did I. Again, I told her as much but she assured me that she had a plan, which I don’t believe for an instant since it was only seconds… detective, what’s so funny?!”

“Nothing, sir. It’s just that you’re starting to sound like a big brother.”

Miles hung up.

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #maya fey #phoenix wright #detective gumshoe #narumitsu #wrightworth #a second chance

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zovioliswritings · 5 years ago

Text

"Hopeless, worthless, and useless...." Leo x fem reader

(HI! so this is my first fan fiction in like...years lmao. So let me know what you guys think! Also, in this Y/N has an extreme fear of confrontation due to family history, having gone behind Leo's back to train with Splinter. What will happen when she is forced to do the one thing she fears the most?)

Y/N panted heavily, hunched over with her hands on her knees. Trying to catch her breath as Master Splinter watched with a small smile.

"You are doing much better my child." He relaxed from his fighting stance and made his way over to the young woman. Resting a gentle paw on her shoulder. "Though you need to learn not to waste so much of your energy so quickly."

She let out a small groan as she straightened her posture. "How am I supposed to do that? You're so much faster than me. I have to act quickly."

This earned a small chuckle from him, letting his paw fall back to his side. "That may be true, but you could benefit from being more defensive. Something you and Raphael have in common. You should train with him, you two could help benefit one another."

With a shake of her head, she let out a defeated sigh. "As much as I'd love to do that, I can't. That would just raise the chances of Leo finding out. You know he doesn't want me to fight, Sensei."

The rat sighed, shaking his head. Knowing exactly how his eldest son would react if he found Y/N sparring with his red clad brother. "Then maybe it is time we have a talk with Leonardo. This over-protectiveness of his has become overbearing."

Y/N shook her head frantically, her heart dropping as anxiety instantly filled her soul. "N-no Sensei, you promised me you wouldn't say anything. I-its fine, I know Leo means well. He just doesn't want me to be hurt."

"This goes beyond just you getting hurt Y/N, he refuses for you to learn how to properly protect yourself." Splinters eyes narrowed, irritated with his son's decisions. "I've kept my promise in hopes you would eventually tell him, but it has been 6 months. It is only a matter of time before he finds out."

"I-I know..." Y/N whispered, twiddling with her thumbs. Unable to look up at the mutant rat. Her anxiety of eating away at her, making her wish a hole would appear under her feet and swallow her whole.

Master Splinter let out a sigh, forcing his shoulders to relax. His voice soft, but stern. "I know your fear of confronting this subject is hard on you miss Y/L/N, but this can not drag on much further. I'm giving you two days to tell my son."

Y/N's eyes widened as she snapped her gaze up to him. Her heart pounding in her chest as her lungs suddenly founding it difficult to breathe. "T...T-two....two days? M-m-master splinter I-I can't p-p-"

He rested his paw on her shoulder once again," You can and you will Y/N. It is not healthy for him to keep you from doing things and you going behind his back to do them anyway. It has to come to an end. Within these two days you will tell Leonardo.....or I will."

Y/N's breathing picked up, fighting to keep herself from having an anxiety attack. Her heart nearly stopped and leaped out of her chest when a familiar voice appeared behind the two.

"Tell me what Sensei?"

His voice, it sounded concerned. Y/N could feel his eyes on her back, but she couldn't move to face him. She was frozen, her hands trembling terribly. Her thoughts running a thousand miles a minute, completely shutting out the world around her. That is until someone gently grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to turn towards them. Her anxiety crept up from her chest to her throat, squeezing around her vocal cords. Keeping her from being able to make any kind of sound. It was like things were in slow motion. Leo was there, right in front of her. His turtle form towering over her. He looked so concerned and confused. He glanced from Master Splinter and then back to her.

His lips were moving, but she still couldn't hear anything. Only her thoughts. 'He's going to find out....he's going to be so angry with me...he's going to hate me for going behind his back....w-what...what do I do...'

Tears started to blur her vision, with the last bit of control she had, she ripped herself away from Leo and ran. Running faster than she ever had before. She was out of the lair and deep within the sewers before anyone could even say something. By the time she got to the surface her breathes were coming out labored, barely able to keep herself up right as she leaned against a building. Trying to desperately catch her breath while looking around, trying to figure out where she was. Tears streaming down her face when she spotted her apartment building across the street. Within a minute she was in her apartment, slamming the door behind her. Quickly locking it before going to every window and locking them.

When she was done, she finally collapsed onto her couch. Her lungs gasping for air as her body screamed in pain. Having been pushed past it's limits and then some. She buried her face into a pillow, struggling to calm herself down. Her cries coming out in broken sobs and pants. Everything hurt, both physically and mentally. It didn't take to long before she fell unconscious due to exhaustion and over exertion. Leaving her mind a slave to itself.

By the time Y/N woke up the next day, it was already 2:30 in the afternoon. She could barely move, her body still completely worn by last nights events. She laid there on the couch for a few hours before her stomach forced her to get up and feed it. Though nothing sounded good. Even though she was hungry, she had lost all appetite to eat anything. After a while, she just forced herself to eat a bowel of cereal before returning to the couch. Turning on the TV, using it more for background noise than actually watching it as she was pulled back into her thoughts.

She stayed there the rest of the day. Hiding under her blanket whenever she heard Casey or April at the front door Ignoring them no matter what they said, even putting a book shelf against the door when Casey threatened to bust down the door.

As the sun started to go down, her anxiety started to settle in again. She knew Leo would be coming over. It was only just a matter of when. Her window was all she had to keep him out, and that wouldn't stand a chance against him if he really wanted to get in. Y/N knew this wouldn't last long, tomorrow Leo would know. Whether she liked it or not. But if she could hold out on the confrontation until tomorrow, then she damn sure was going to waste every minute she could.

The second the sun was no longer visible in the sky, there was a tapping on her window. This caused her heart rate to spike as she buried herself deeper into her blankets. Snuggling further into the couch. Trying to make herself as small as possible. She could faintly hear her name being called out.

'It's him....he's here...' Anxiety swelled into her stomach once more as she tried to ignore his constant tapping. After a while it suddenly stopped and it was quiet for about ten minutes. Hesitantly, she untangled herself from her blanket and slowly lifted herself off her couch. Tip toeing to her room and over to the window. Peaking outside, looking for any sign of her beloved turtle. After about five minutes, she let out a sigh of relief. Relaxing as she unlocked her window and opened it. Taking in a breath of fresh air. Crossing her arms as she leaned against the window seal and closed her eyes. Letting the night breeze calm her down further.

"...Y/N..."

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her name, jumping back when she found Leo standing right in front of her. His face having been just inches from hers. Her breath picked up as she backed further into the room. Watching as he entered the room. His movements slow and gentle.

"Y/N wait...it's okay, I just want to know what's wrong." He spoke so softly, taking a step towards her.

She shook her head and took another step back. Looking down as she felt her back meet one of the walls in her room. Her heart racing.

Leo frowned as he watched her, taking careful steps towards her. He hated seeing her like this, and he didn't understand why. Why was she acting so afraid of him? "Y/N its okay, please down be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know what's wrong.." He stopped once he was right in front of her, his body towering over her. Placing a gentle hand on her arm, frowning even more when she flinched under his touch. "Y/n please....its okay love...You can tell me, I'm not gonna be upset."

"B-but you are..." She choked out with a sob, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Y-You're g-g-gonna b-be so mad a-and hate m-me." She buried her face into her hands as she sobbed. Crying even harder when Leo pulled her into his arms.

"Love no, I could never ever be mad at you. Let alone hate you." He gently picked her up and carried her over to the bed. Sitting down and setting her on his lap as he comforted her. Gently rubbing her back as she cried into his plastron. Slowly getting her to calm down.

She sniffled as she stared at his neck, lightly tracing random shapes on his plastron. Unable to look him in the eye.

"Y/N....could you please tell me what this is all about.." He felt her tense up in his arms once again. "Its okay Y/N...I'm not going to be mad.." He gently kissed the apex of her head.

They both sat in silence for a few minutes before Y/N worked up the courage to speak. "I...I-I..." Leo didn't say anything, he just rubbed her back. Encouraging her to continue. "I went behind your back....a-and have been training with Master Splinter..."

Leo's eyes widened, most defiantly having not expected that. "What?"

Y/N whimpered and buried herself further into the turtle. "I-I k-know you said you d-didn't want me to start any serious training b-b-but..." Her voice closed off as tears started to well up in her eyes once again.

"But what love..?" He cooed softly in her ear. No trace of anger or betrayal was found in his voice. It gave her to courage to continue.

"B-but I c-couldn't just be satisfied with the basic training you taught me. It was all just simple techniques to be able to slip away and run...and...it wasn't enough." Y/N pulled away just enough to look up at him. "Yeah, those techniques worked whenever we were in a pinch but...having to leave you guys behind to fight the fight...." Her gaze dropped back down to his plastron, letting everything that she felt out. "Hopeless, worthless, and useless...the list can go on and on with how it made me feel. To know that I couldn't do anything more and that that's all you thought I would ever be capable of doing."

Leo's heart dropped as he looked down at her. How could he have done this, he had only meant to protect her from harm. But here he was, hurting her so much that she feared to tell him about something so small. He pulled her closer into his arms, nuzzling his face into her hair. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm so, so sorry. You are capable of so much more than that. I never meant to make you feel that way." He gently kissed the top of her head once more. "I just....was afraid that once your started to learn how to fight, then it meant you were now really apart of everything that I want to protect you from."

"But I'm already apart of it Leo," She said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The moment I meet you guys, I became apart of your life. Whether I know how to fight or not."

He sighed softly, "I know....I just... "

Y/N nuzzled his cheek, "I know...."

They sat in silence for a while, just holding one another. Both lost in their own thoughts,

"If you'd like..." Leo said, breaking the silence.

"Hm?" She replied, pulling away enough to look up at him. Finally being able to meet his gaze without fear.

"I can help and train with you....I know how tough Master Splinter can be." He gave a gentle smile, resting his forehead on hers.

A smile pulled at her lips. "I'd really like that...and Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you..."

His smile grew, " I love you too."

#tmnt #leo x reader #tmnt leo x reader #TMNT x reader

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thinkyoureholy · 5 years ago

Text

Soul Eater [3]

[A/N : the beginning just gives y’all better insight on the shit she has to deal with as a demon and by shit I mean Lucifer, fuck that bitch]

Pairing : Jung Yunho / [fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Character Death?, Demon! AU

Words : 3.2k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I walked through the dark corridors, scowling at the black cloaks we were forced to wear. Why the hell was I even here? All he does is mock me and dismiss all the things I’ve ever said to him so why-

“Y/N? Whoa I haven’t seen you in half a millennia.” He whistled, scanning my body from head to toe, “What brings you down here?”

“The same reason you’re here.” I answered almost robotically, walking passed him without another word but he was persistent.

“Oooh so even someone of your caliber shows up to these kinds of things? I’m impressed. So does that mean you care about our lord as much-”

I cut him off, reaching out to grab at his throat faster than he could react, my claws digging into his flesh, “He is not my lord. I serve no one. I just don’t want him to send his little minions after me like he did three hundred years ago. I’d rather not have to deal with his pesky little rats again."

He smirked, raising his hand in mock surrender, "Easy there, I meant no harm."

"Just stay out of my way from now on if you don't want to end up like the others. You'll do well to heed my warning." I threatened, my hold on him tightening.

He didn't say a word but as the seconds ticked by I just squeezed tighter. I was impressed that he could withstand it for so long but even he seemed to be struggling after another minute or so. By this point the veins of my arms were protruding, his blood coating my hand as it seeped out of his neck. He grit his teeth as he wrapped his hands around my wrist, digging his own claws into my skin but all that did was irritate me. I scoffed before extending my wings out in a menacing fashion, watching his black eyes go wide with fear.

"Don't think you can mess with me like you do everyone else. I'm not one to be taken lightly, Ceri. Don't play games with me or you'll regret it."

With that I let him go, watching him hit the ground with a thud. As soon as my claws were out the holes on the side of his neck closed up. I gave him one last look before hiding my wings under my cloak once more, continuing my walk down the corridor. That little runt just wasted my time, he didn't even put up much of a fight, I should’ve known the bastard was all talk to begin with. I scoffed at the thought, pathetic.

……

I stood off to the side, keeping my mouth shut as the others spoke with one another. I just wanted this to be over but I was curious as to why we had been called. We don’t normally get called down here, at least not us higher level demons.

“Any idea why we were summoned?”

The voice snapped me out of my thoughts, drawing my attention away from the crowd, “No. And before I forget, stay away from Yunho from now on. You don’t know how surprised I was to find out you were a friend of his.”

“Really? Well you sure fooled me. I was beginning to think you had forgotten all about me.” He replied sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes, “I don’t know what you're planning but you actually convinced that idiot to summon a demon and make a deal. As stupid as he is his soul is still mine so stay away.”

Mingi smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets, his eyes flashing for a moment before settling back to their normal black, “Damn...and I was hoping the sucker would summon me instead, to bad I was busy when he did. You’re lucky you live so nearby…”

He was smirking the whole time, masking his true feelings so well I didn’t catch on to the fact he was putting on an act.

“Lucky? More like cursed. I mean what kind of idiot sells their souls for something as stupid as having a significant other? Couldn’t the idiot just go out and try dating a few people first before he summons a demon? I mean there’s even dating apps now for crying out loud.”

Mingi snickered, leaning back against the wall behind him, a permanent grin on his face, “Humans...they’re desperate creatures...and vulnerable as well. I sometimes feel sorry for them.”

“You? In all the time I’ve known you you’ve never felt sorry for another living being, not even yourself.” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

His grin spread at my words, I almost began to worry that his face would split right in half from how big he was smiling. But at the same time the sadistic fucker might enjoy the feeling of his face splitting apart. He chuckled low in his throat but said no more, turning his attention back to the others that were in the room with us.

There were about one hundred of us in here but he wasn’t here yet, I could even feel the presence of the deadly sins but not his. Actually now that I think about it...I could only feel the presence of six deadly sins...where’s the seventh? My eyes searched the room, locating each sin, counting them off as I saw them; Gluttony, Lust, Greed, Pride, Sloth...and Envy. Where the hell was Wrath? I nudged Mingi’s foot with my own, grabbing his attention.

“Hey...have you noticed yet?”

“Noticed what?” He asked, his tone of voice bored as his eyes continued to scan the area.

“Look for all the sins, tell me what you see.”

He did as I said, his eyes jumping from sin to sin until he got to the last one. I watched as the gears in his head finally started moving, his eyes going wide.

“Wrath is missing.” He concluded, pushing himself off the wall to stand properly, “Where the hell is he? None of them have ever missed a summoning.”

“My guess is-”

I was cut off by a loud thud coming from the middle of the room. The room fell silent, the demons towards the middle took trembling steps back until everyone lined the walls, all but the sins that were here. I looked to where the thud came from and finally understood why everyone but the sins seemed surprised by the sight. It was Wrath, his body lay bloody on the floor. My hands began to tremble at the sight of his decapitated body, my breathing heavier than it was just moments before. There’s only one person that could do this to him and he wasn’t even a person to begin with. My eyes slowly left Wrath’s body, trailing up the body of the one who did this to him, Lucifer. His eyes met mine, a sinister smile on his face. He held my gaze, bringing his hand up so I had a clear view of what he had in his hand, Wrath’s decapitated head. With a chuckle he closed his hand into a fist, pulverizing Wrath’s head, blood dripping down his arm.

“I’m glad all of you were able to make it.” He spoke, his voice sending a chill down my spine.

At the sound of his voice every single demon in the room fell to one knee, bowing their heads, all but me. Mingi noticed that I had stayed standing, nudging me with his elbow but I didn’t budge. In the one thousand and nineteen years of my life as a demon I had never bent the knee to Lucifer, and I wasn’t going to start now. No matter how afraid I was, no matter what he threatened to do to me, I refused to bow to him.

“I see you’re still as defiant as ever, Y/N.” He said, a chuckle falling from his lips.

Pride stepped forward, bloodlust clear in her eyes. I turned to her, ready to fight if that’s what she wanted but before she could take another step, Lucifer stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She glared at me with her violet eyes but didn’t move to come any closer.

“Why were we called?” I asked aloud, voicing the question all of us had as I looked back over at Lucifer.

He smirked, patting Pride’s shoulder before he took a step towards me, “The position of Wrath is now open, you all are the strongest of my children...so it’s only natural I choose who becomes the next Wrath from you lot.”

I set my jaw at his words. So this is why he called us here? I scoffed, turning my back on him as I began to walk out of the room.

“I’m not interested in becoming one of your dogs.”

As soon as I said that Pride appeared before me and had my throat in her hold before I even had the chance to blink, “Being a member of the seven deadly sins is the greatest honor our Lord could bestow upon us. How dare you be so disrespectful?”

I bared my teeth, bringing my hands up to grab at her wrist before giving it a twist, hearing the bone snap. I watched with disgust as she let out a yelp of pain, clutching her broken arm to her chest.

“Touch me again and the next thing I break will be your neck,” I growled out, shaking the feeling of her off my hands, “If I say I’m not interested I’m not fucking interested. Your Lord is not my Lord, I have no such thing.”

“Why you insolent little-”

She lunged at me but she couldn’t even get her hands on me, I made my move, moving faster than her eyes could register. She crumbled to the ground, crying out in agony, clutching at her left shoulder. I stood over her, a bored look on my face. With a scoff I threw her severed arm back at her. I yanked the stupid cloak off my shoulders and wiped my hands clean of her blood, staring over at Lucifer who had been watching with a bemused smile.

“I’ll be leaving now. Next time you summon me make sure it’s for something worth my while.”

His grin spread, a gleam in his eyes as a hearty laugh fell from his lips, “Of course, of course. Forgive me for calling you for a matter as trivial as this one.”

I knew he was mocking me, I could tell from a mile away but even so he didn’t move to stop me. I cast one final glance at Mingi who was staring at me wide eyed before I finally left.

-Yunho’s P.O.V-

I stood outside her door, too nervous to knock. She said to call her when I needed her to play the part but she never left her number with me so I had no choice but to come up here in person. The guys wanted to get together again and I said I’d go and let it slip that I had met someone without thinking. They had hung up before I could take it back so now I had no choice but to bring her along.

“Ah...why did I make this stupid deal in the first place?” I mumbled to myself, nervously combing my fingers through my hair.

I brought a trembling fist up to her door, ready to knock when the door suddenly swung open. I jumped back at the sight of her pitch black eyes. Her eyes bore into mine before she blinked, the black leaving as her natural eye color returned. Or were her black eyes her natural eyes since she's a demon and all? I shook my head, shoving that thought aside.

"H-Hey." I stuttered, waving to her but I didn't get a wave back.

She just stared at me, not uttering a single word. I stumbled over my own words, trying to figure out what to say without sounding like an idiot. Why the hell am I even so nervous? Just as that question popped into my head I made the mistake of glancing down at her lips. I looked away almost immediately, a blush rushing up my neck and face as I was reminded of the kiss we shared days prior. My lips still burned every time I thought about it...and I couldn't help but want another but I knew she'd wring my neck if I so much as asked.

"You--You said to call you whenever I...uh...whenever I needed you to play the part of my girlfriend. Well...tonight is one of those nights where I need you."

Again she said nothing, continuing to stare at me. I thought that's all she was going to do until she nodded her head before closing the door in my face. I frowned at the sound of the door slamming shut. I stood there flabbergasted, unsure if I should knock again or just leave. Just as I was thinking I should probably leave she opened the door once more, stepping out this time. She had simply gone to put on a sweater. She stuffed her hands into her pockets before looking at me expectantly.

"Oh--Oh right. Come on. We usually like to hang out at the bar a few blocks down."

Again, for the third time, she said nothing. She only turned on her heel and headed for the elevator. I couldn’t help but scoff at her behavior. If she was going to play the part of my girlfriend the least she could do is at least act like she’s happy.

“You know, would it kill you to smile every once in awhile.” I muttered, joining her in the elevator.

And once more, like she suddenly lost the ability to talk she stayed silent, staring ahead at the closed elevator doors. I sighed in exasperation, rubbing my hands over my face, giving her a once over. When I did that I noticed a drop of something red on her cheek. Without thinking and before I could stop myself I reached out to her, swiping my thumb across her cheek, getting rid of the smudge. She looked at me wide eyed as I examined the red substance. If I didn’t know any better I’d think this was-

“Wait...this--this isn’t blood is it?”

She stayed silent for a moment before she finally spoke, “It’s not human.”

Somehow that didn’t make it any better. Just as I went to ask what kind of blood it was she beat me to it.

“It belongs to another demon. But don’t worry she’s not dead...at least not yet. The bitch is lucky she’s his favorite or else I would’ve killed her already. She’s crossed the line one too many times.” She said in a low voice, a dark shadow hanging over her face, “I’m so sick and tired of them all…”

She muttered that last part to herself but due to the small space we were in I was able to hear her loud and clear. I said no more after that, getting the feeling if I continued to push the subject she’d snap at me. There was also something holding me back from asking about the subject further. The look she had in her eyes, not only was it one of anger there was a hint of anguish in her eyes. It was buried so deep I almost missed it but the moment I saw it my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. This was the same way I felt when I heard her voice thick with emotions the night I made the deal with her. She seemed so heartbroken when I had sold away my soul, I had never seen her so hopeless. In all my years of living I had never seen someone so unbelievably sad. I would assume that as a demon you lived without emotions and even though a month ago I wouldn’t have trouble believing Y/N was a demon because of the way she was but now, after experiencing what I did, now I could tell without a doubt Y/N had so much bottled up inside her. All those emotions she refuses to show, it would only be a matter of time until she couldn’t hold it in anymore. And when that time does come… I hope I can be there to ease her through it.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I felt her intertwine her fingers with mine. I looked down at our joint hands in surprise before looking over at her face. She didn’t even bother acknowledging my gaze, stepping closer to me. Okay, what the hell-

“We have to look the part don’t we?” She asked rhetorically, not even a hint of a smile on her face.

I just stared at her, my mouth hanging agape before I spoke without thinking, “Just what the hell have you been through?”

She stopped walking at that, bowing her head as she stared at the ground underneath her feet. I waited for her to speak, unconsciously giving her hand a comforting squeeze. But no matter how long I waited she kept her mouth shut.

……

I watched in shock as she interacted with everyone. I couldn’t help but let my jaw hang open as I took in the sight of her smile, it was blinding. And the sound of her laugh? God, I swore my heart stopped and restarted multiple times in the span of five minutes.

“You might want to close your mouth there, Yun, you’ll catch flies.” Mingi chided with a smirk, closing my mouth himself.

I slapped his hand away from me, finally tearing my eyes away from Y/N, “It’s like she’s a totally different person. You know this is the first time I’ve seen her smile much less heard her laugh. I’ve never seen her this happy before.”

Mingi said nothing for awhile, his gaze on Y/N the whole time until a frown took purchase on his face, “She doesn’t look happy to me, dude.”

I rose a brow at his words, confused, “What do you mean? Look at that smile if she’s not happy then-”

“People hide a lot behind a smile, Yunho. And I’m telling you now, Y/N is anything but happy,” He cut me off before mumbling under his breath, “She hasn’t been happy for a long, long time.”

I opened my mouth to press him about what he meant when Wooyoung clapped a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention.

“Yunho! Where the hell have you been hiding this gem?!” He exclaimed, gesturing over to Y/N who grinned wider at his words.

I didn’t answer as I just stared at her smiling face. I ignored the way my heart skipped a beat at the sight of it, frowning in response, thinking back to what Mingi had just said. Was that smiling face of hers really just a mask?

I leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. I had proposed that the two of us start getting together, alone. Of course she didn't see the point in it since this was all just for show but I managed to convince her. I had no explanation as to why I wanted to know more about her and get to know her better. A little voice inside my head reminded me that I've been curious about her since day one, the day I first moved in. Sure that curiosity died out, or so I thought.

The moment I saw her smile back at the bar a few weeks ago that curiosity came back full force. I wanted to know everything about her...whether she'll actually let me in or not is entirely up to her.

Tags: @chanyeolol

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phantoms-lair · 5 years ago

Note

❧ ❧ ❧

Three huh, hooboy

Ritsuko wasn’t sure what she was expecting from the third child, no one was since Gendo had lost him, but the smile boy wearing an honest to god black cloak and ornate rings wasn’t it.

“So you’re telling me I was asked to come here in order to pilot a giant robot to fight that giant angel thing?” Shinji asked. “You can’t be serious!” Misato protested. “He’s had no training.” “AWESOME! And they said coming here was a bad idea! It’s even my color. Load me up!” Misato resisted the urge to facepalm. Where was this fearlessness on the way in?

A1 Clips attached Shinji was brought in the entry plug and the LCL started filling in. “Should I be concerned?” Shinji asked, still remarkably calm for the situation.

“The liquid is breathable, you were oxygenated this way for nine months after all.” Ritsuko explained calmly.

“Not what I was worried about- oh hey, this stuff tastes great!” Many of the the bridge workers, who’d grown to tolerate the smell of LCL looked at Unit 01 in confusion and a little disgust.

Gendo’s Kid Ritsuko reminded herself. “Unit 01 Launch.”

“Sure he climbs into the giant robot, but not my car.” Misato grumbled. “Okay Shinji, I need you to focus on walking.” The mecha took one tentative step. Then another. Shinji giggled and the robot began to bounce on it’s toes, before slipping and landing on it’s behind.

“Shinji are you okay?” He didn’t seem damaged from the feed, but the life sign readers were malfunctioning and not telling Ritsuko anything. “All okay-dokey.” Shinji said in a sing-song voice before straightening himself out. “Oh look, there’s the Angel. LET’S WRASSLE!” “Ritusko what the hell is going on?” Misato asked as Shinji attempted to suplex the Third Angel. “He wasn’t acting anything like this before.” “It just a hunch, since we don’t have enough data and the readouts aren’t calibrated properly to him,” which sounded better than saying they weren’t working, “But I believe he’s having a unique reaction to the LCL which is putting him in a hyperoxygenated state which-.” She sighed, realizing she had to simplify. “He’s getting high off the LCL.”

“That can happen?” Misato asked, aghast.

“There’s no evidence of it happening before, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. He’s been getting progressively more twitchy the longer he’s in there.” She gestured to the plug feed where Shinji was drumming his fingers on the controls, tapping his feet, and grinning like a loon.

“Oh God, we have to pull him out.” MIsato had paled considerably. She didn’t even want to think about the damage that could be done in this state. “Shinji you need to-” “DEATHTRON HAMMER!” Shinji charged at the Third Angel shoulder first. The AT Fields clashed, creating a red aura around Shinji as he broke through and began pummeling the Third Angel before suddenly retreating and climbing on top of the deployment shaft. “And now the grand finale. Passed down through the Valentine Family, ARTEM BUSTER!” Cackling he leapt off the shaft and landed elbow first, right on the Third Angel’s core. The resultant explosion blew him off, causing him to ragdoll through the air, before landing in one of the mountains.

“We got lucky,” Misato said grimly.

Section 2 seemed all to happy to shove the boy at Ritsuko. He was still under the effects of the LCL and was talking a mile a minute, occasionally going into a fighting pose and punching the air a few times as if to make a point.

Ritsuko pinched the bridge of her nose. As Misato said, they’d gotten lucky he’d defeated the Angel in this state. He clearly wouldn’t be able to pilot until they could counter whatever he was reacting to in the LCL. “Shinji, we need to give you an exam since the senors in the EVA were malfunctioning and not picking up anything.” Shinji paused in his reenactment of his fight. “You mean like beating and heartbeat and stuff?” He went back to his play fighting the air.

“That’s correct.” Ritsuko felt a headache coming on. “Your sensors are probably fine.” Shinji tried to do a spin kick and failing. “I just don’t have any.”

“You don’t have any life signs?” “Nope.” Shinji gave them a big grin, with canine teeth that were a little too long and sharp. “I’m a vampire.”

The two college roommates looked at each other. “Shinji, vampires aren’t real.” Misato started to explain.

In response Shinji turned into a purple hued bat and began an erratic flight in circles, cackling all the way, not knowing how many plans just went up in smoke.

~~~~

Shinji raised by someone else is a common enough trope in fanfiction. I at one point thought of trying my hand at it and went with the Valentine Vampires from Shadow Hearts. It never got past the planning stage, but damned if this wasn’t going to be a fun Shinji

(Note: Shinji ‘died’ in a car crash before being brought back as a vampire by Hilda, so he’s terrified of being in cars)

(More under cut)

~~ “Later, I need to talk to you. About The Case.” There had been a time when 'The Case' had been the drunk driver that hit his wife. Now it was the dark cloud that had hung over Inaba for nearly a year.

Yuu froze. “Is something wrong?”

“No I just – I just need a little more information,” Dojima decided. A hell of a lot more was more truthful.

Yuu nodded. “After Nanako goes to bed, I'll tell you anything you want to know.”The emphasis on the word 'want' puzzled Dojima. As they sat down Nanako reach for the remote and flicked on the TV. Dojima felt a slight chill down his spine, knowing that his daughter had once gone through a similar screen.

Then it hit him. The reason for Yuu's odd manner of speech was to give Dojima an out on some things he might be disturbed by. What little Dojima knew about the occurrences was frightening and mind blowing. Yuu was giving him a way out, trying to protect him from having his world blown apart even further.

Stupid kid, always trying to protect everyone around him. It was moments like this that Dojima would never admit to. Watching his nephew shine in sports and academia was something for any family member to be proud of. But it was watching how he cared and looked out for people, how he protected everyone he came across with the same ferocity that Dojima himself had, that made him wish Yuu had been his son, not his sister's.

Still, Yuu could protect his friends, Nanako, and any other passerby he met, but trying to protect his uncle was taking it too far.

The evening seemed to crawl by at a snail's pace. It seemed a small eternity before Dojima finally finished reading his daughter a bedtime story and turned out her lights.

Yuu was waiting for him in his room, two cups of tea steaming on his table. Dojima tried to start the conversation, but his nephew cut him off. “Ten minutes”

“What?”

“It normally takes Nanako about ten minutes to fall asleep. I don't want her listening in on this conversation.” And thus began the longest ten minutes in Dojima's life.

Finally Yuu put down his tea and looked Dojima in the eye. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” It's more than just the details of the murders. It what his nephew has been through this past year and why on Earth he didn't tell anyone. He did muttered Dojima's subconscious. Twice

“This is your last chance to back out,” Yuu warned. Receiving no reply, he sighed. “It began the day after Yamano's body was found. Yosuke was treating me to a meal as a welcome to town and Chie came along. We met Saki-sempai...” Yuu stopped and shook his head. He hadn't known and there was nothing he could have done at that point. “As we parted, Chie told us about this Urban Myth, the Midnight Channel. That if you looked into a turned off TV at midnight on a rainy evening, you'll see your soulmate.”

Dojima raised an eyebrow.

“Don't give me that look. I know how childish it sounds, but I had already seen Chie play the Nutcracker Suite on Yosuke with very little provocation, and besides, what could it hurt? It wasn't like anything would actually happen.” Yuu chuckled self deprecatingly. “As the clock struck midnight, I looked out the window. Three streetlamps glowed; red, yellow, and blue. The rain was light, but you could still hear the patter on the roof and pavement.”

Dojima felt a chill run up his spine in a way that he hadn't since he was a small child. The faraway look in his nephew's eyes told him he wasn't just telling the story, he was narrating it as he relived the events in his mind.“When I first heard static coming from the television, I thought it was my imagination. I turned around to see the television, that has been off a second ago, was on. I saw flashes of a girl, running from something in fear. The images only lasted a few seconds, then faded to nothing, leaving only the slight glow of a TV that should have been turned off. That's when I heard the voice.”

“I'm still not sure what it was, Izanagi perhaps,-” Yuu continued, ignoring the question his uncle was about to ask, or perhaps too far gone in the memory to realize Dojima had been about to interrupt. “-it's voice seemed to cleave my body in two. I thought my head would explode from the pain. It's word echoed through me: 'I am Thou and Thou art I. Thou art the one who opens the door'.And then – silence.”

Tension left Yuu's frame. “The only sound came from rain, the only light from the streetlamps. I wasn't even sure if what had just happened was real or not.” Yuu turned from his uncle, towards the TV. “I don't know what I was thinking. At that point, I'm not even sure I was. I just reached out...” Following his narrative, Yuu stretched his right hand out, his fingertip barely touching the screen.

Dojima felt his heart leap into his throat as a ripple pattern flowed across the screen from the contact. Yuu had yanked his hand back, the tentatively reached out again. This time he didn't pull back, pushing his am into the screen nearly up to his shoulder.

Yuu looked at him calmly, completely unphased by how impossible what he was doing was. “This is how it started Uncle. If I hadn't stayed up that night, perhaps I never would have gotten involved.” He pulled his hand back out. “The voice in my head, the images that showed on the Midnight channel, the power that lets me pass through the door, all were important to solving the case.”

“You have a lot of unused vacation time. It's time to call it in. I knew eventually you'd want to know the whole story and we'd discussed how to explain. We decided the best way was to walk you down our path, to reenact the major moments of the case. Tomorrow we'll head to the one place that was the key to our investigation. I'll continue the story there, where we first got involved.” Yuu's expression softened. The take charge tone he had been using evened out to the gentle voice he associated with his nephew. “I know what you just saw isn't easy to accept. It wasn't easy for me either, for any of us. There's no nice way to explain everything that happened-”

“There's never a nice way to explain murder,” Dojima growled, trying the quiet his thumping heart. A large part of his mind trying to find some explanation for what he just saw.

“No, there isn't, but this...it got messier in far more personal ways. You'll see. Rise and Naoto are coming over tomorrow to play with Nanako. And we'll begin on the path of the investigation. You should get some rest.”

“And you expect me to just fall asleep tonight?” Dojima asked dryly, not sure if he was being serious or trying to lighten the mood.

“It would be best, tomorrow will be tiring. That place always is.”

“That place?”

“Trust me,” It wasn’t a statement, from his nephew, but a plea. Because Dojima hadn’t trusted him on the important things. And because of that a bunch of kids had to face a murderer alone.

“I do.” More of a promise than a statement. That he wouldn’t discount what his nephew told him ever again.

~~~~ One of the few things that left be dissatisfied in Persona 4 was Dojima’s whole ‘lets not talk about it’ after the fact. He’s the type of person who’d need to know and understand before he could put it to bed in his mind. So this, Backside of the TV would be the group walking him through it to try and gain that understanding.

A haunted looking man stared into his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He had come so far, from the child of poor farmers in his home country to being one of the top programmers in a large-scale American cooperation. Was he really prepared to throw it all away?

There was no doubt about it, a product recall at the late stage would destroy global trust in the company. Competitors could easily move in and remove his company from the picture. Not only would he certainly be fired, but he would be unhireable. All for something that had less than a one in a million chance of happening.

But what if it does happens, eh? His conscience whispered at him. Could you go on living with yourself knowing some poor soul gets hurt because you did NOTHING?

The man splashed some cold water on his face. It wouldn't do to lose control of his emotions. There was only one thing he could do, and he was going to do it with pride and dignity. Drying his face with a towel, the man marched out of the restroom with a renewed sense of purpose. He marched to the main meeting room, where all the major stockholders and even the company president were waiting.

Trying not to let his fear show, he moved to the podium, sliding his notes and proofs into the small cubby within it. One final deep breath and it was time...

“Gentlemen,” began Rodrick McStewart, “The Pinnacle chip is flawed.”

“A 'flaw'?” Armando Guitierrez's voice sounded innocently curious, but it was all Roddy could do to keep from shivering. “What kind of 'flaw'?”

“One I've never seen before,” Roddy answered honestly. “If activated, the chip's ability to increase the rate of information flow goes into overdrive, the consequence of which are, to say the least, dire.”

One of the stockholders leaned forward “What do you mean 'dire'?”

McStewart sighed. “The computer would start downloading information from the internet at an unseen rate. And not just one or two files, it would try to download the whole bloody thing. Rather than slowing down as this continues, it speeds up causing the system to critically overheat in under a minute. It's not unlikely the computer would explode, causing serious damage to the user in the process.”

It was silent as a morgue. “W-What are the odds of this happening?” Another suited man asked.

Crud. He was hoping that wouldn't come up. “I've calculated the odds at four hundred and fifty million to one.” As he feared, he watched the entire boardroom relax, joking amongst themselves that they had been scared of nothing. The fools saw such a large number as unreachable. But the truth was the chip had already sold over 60 million units on pre-order alone. In under a year it would reach five hundred million, practically guaranteeing at least one accident.

Guitierrez took a deep breath. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Roddy. I will discuss this with the shareholders. If you would please wait in my office, we can discuss this further and see how we can salvage this.”

He knew he was being dismissed, but it was more than he had thought he would get. At least Guitierrez was willing to listen to him in private, even if he was going to spend the next hour telling the stockholders there was no problem.

Guitierrex's office was a long rectangular room, the north side of which was completely glass. The mahogony deck used the window as a backdrop. Roddy flopped down in the wheeled leather chair in front of the desk and pulled out his notes. On one of the pages was a picture of the Pinnacle chip focused in on it most important feature, the 'Broken Arrow' core. Many times McStewart wished he could have spoke with the R&D team that had developed it. It's power was amazing, McStewart was sure the chip he had built around it wasn't accessing a fraction of it's true power.

“Thank you for your patience Roddy, no sit, sit” Guitierrez gestured for the programmer to remain sitting in the wheeled leather chair. “How could this has happened?

“The Broken Arrow core is so powerful. Moreso than we ever could have guessed. A system built around it would probably be the most powerful system in existence, but a normal computer just can't safely handle it.”

“I see,” Guitierrez walked to the north wall of his office, which was a solid glass window letting in the cold December sun. “We shall have to rally as quickly as possible. How many other developers are aware of the flaw?”

“None, I didn't want to start a panic, not until I was completely sure.”

Guitierrez turned his back from the window “A wise move Roddy,” He gripped the back of Roddy's chair. “I thank you for your final service to this company.”

Roddy had expected to be fired. What he hadn't expected was for his employer to start pushing the chair at top speed towards the window. He also hadn't expected the window to not me made of hurricane glass.

Shards of shattered glass fell with him as he tumbled out the window. He hit a tree branch with a thud that probably broke all his ribs but halted his fall enough to survive it. As quickly as he could he made his way to his car. He wished he could just call an ambulance, but he didn’t want to give Guitierrez the chance to finish the job.

Elswhere, Debbie Douglas put in the preorder for one of those Pinnacle chips. It would be just the perfect thing to give Dexter for Christmas.

~~~~

An attempt to redo Freakazoid as a more serious superhero story. Not much more to be said.

#Anonymous #Ghost Writing #NGE #Shadow Hearts #Persona 4 #Freakazoid #I don't know why it moved the readmore to the top of the document #by it won't let me fix it

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