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unabashednightmarepizza · 1 year

Text

𝑆𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒

Summary: Black Family sucked. That's what your friends, your family and boyfriend said. They were obsessed with being "pure" and ready to do anything to achieve that... But none of you would have known exactly what measures they would go.

A/N: I went overboard with this one, and had to seperate it to two parts. So, hopefully, next week, you guys will have a second part. But I'm sleepy while uploading this so... Forgive me if there are some mistakes, I'll fix them later. REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Trigger Warning: Mentions of torture and abuse, some very slight make out mentions(?), typical Black family, 8.2K words.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Pureblood!Fem!Reader

Prompts: "No one makes me smile the way you do.", "I've always loved that about you.", " I know I don't say it a lot, but I really do love you." and "You're all I'll ever need to feel better." from this prompt list ; 3,6,7,8,9, 19, 22, 29, 30 and 31 from the kissing prompts 4 of my "SUMMER CELEBRATION" event.

Part2

Regulus wasn't seen.

It wasn't like he wasn't at the school where you both called your home, he definetly was. There were glimpses of him in lessons, or Quidditch practices, there were slight whispers of his rich and silky voice as he spoke to his friends in the Great Hall, one that you could always catch no matter where or when. It was the same voice that whispered you sweet good mornings, the same voice that told you soft spoken, full of love and adoration, words as he danced with you in somewhere away from the prying eyes, his own blue-ish gray ones looking extra ethereal and captivating at the moonlight that shone on both of you, contouring his sharp face so beautifully that often left you speechles.

Speechles at how this amazing, caring and loving boy was yours. And he often felt the same about you, about how lucky he was for finding you in that library corner, drowning in books and hair messy, at his lowest point.

A point where no one really made it an effort to listen to him, to know him.

By his friends, his parents... His own brother.

But, even if he wasn’t heard or seen by his family, Regulus Black was seen in Hogwarts, by many others... But not you.

Not today.

He was avoiding you.

It hurted you whenever he distanced himself. He often did this, but even then, he would tell you that he just needed to be alone and gather his thoughts after a kiss to your forehead and then return a few hours later with your favourite dessert from one of the house elves. They even learnt when to bake them for him and you, after witnessing how bice you treated them and such, they were happy to stay awake a few more hours so that you two could be happy.

And of course, you understood that everyone could need some alone time in this hectic life, Regulus more than anyone, but this much of being alone...

He didn't even come to dinner time, instead saying some bullshit about wanting to sleep and tell you to eat with your friends after a soft kiss to your cheeks and a short kiss to your lips. He would always lay some on your lips, and even pepper your whole face with them. His kisses were always so passionate, they left you a breathless mess at the place he kissed you, making you jump on him as you both laughed in delight.

Be it his dorm, you would jump on the bed and you two would play fight, looking into each others eyes as he would hover over you, a hand on your waist with a thight grip as his breath fanned your face, his nose touching yours as he would muzzle his to your neck. You are beautiful, he would whisper before his kisses would turn urgent and you both’s clothes would soon be thrown away at somewhere.

Regulus Black was a passionate young man, someone who felt deeply... But that passion was slowly dying.

And it was your greatest fear coming true.

“Excuse me, guys... I don’t have an appeatite...” you slowly got up as you looked at them, apologizing with your eyes. People always thought them to be such fuckers but Barty and Evan, as long as they weren’t in their teasing romance, were actually great friends of you and Regulus... Barty was the first one who adopted you in the group, back before you were sorted in any houses, in the train and... Perhaps, you were the only one they loved in another house.

“Where are ya goin’? Ya haven’ eaten anythin’?” Barty pointed to your plate as a sheepish look came over you, lips tugging to a sweet smile, hoping that he would let it pass. He wouldn’t have fallen for the puppy eyes, not for the 97th time, had Evan not pointed to who was missing on their table as well.

“looking for her boyfriend, I see...” you gave a sad smile at Evan as he nodded to the entrance of the Great Hall. He, too, was aware that something was... more wrong with the Black as well, but none of them could come close enough to question him without getting blasted off. “Go. That boy never admits, but he is very dependant on you... He needs you.”

But, if there was anyone who could do that... And perhaps, it was you he wanted to have with him, it would be you.

He had seen from first-hand experience how good you affected the boy, how he seemed happier. Though he would always tease him for the heart eyes he sent your way, or how he would get up from his seat and hug you at the entrance of the Great Hall as soon as he sees you, and also accompany you to his side as you talked with his friends and then, sit with you in your side of the table with your friends at lunch time or dinner, he was glad he found some solace in you.

He was aware of the “pureblood nonsense” most “pureblood” families believed in, his and Blacks for example, and did anything to make their children believe in it too. Regulus was still considered lucky in his eyes, for having Sirius protecting him since he didn’t have someone that would protect him.

And now that they were friends, there was no way in hell that he would allow him to relapse into those bad thoughts that could never actualy stop swirl in his head.

You beamed at Evan as your sprinted from them, Evan yelling after you that they would bring some food for you two while Barty hissed about you not doing any funny business. Evan elbowed him hard as Barty whined about how Regulus was becoming soft, and pink, and domestic around him so much that he couldn’t take it anymore. I love our girlie, and cold bitch of a friend but they both make me... sick...

You couldn’t care less about what they said though. Your mind was only on Regulus and how in pain he looked earlier, even when he tried to hide it behind his steel look. You wondered if it was the anniversary of his brother leaving him behind, but quickly checked it out. Maybe his parents were strict and harsh to him again? But he always said he was used to their harsh ways of teaching...

And now that you stopped in front of the the door seperating you from the Slytherin Common Room... You realized that you didn’t know much about your own boyfriend as much as you were supposed to. And that thought made you frown as you looked down for a moment. You knew how... intense things can get with the “pureblood thing”, even though your family wasn’t that harsh when it came to that ideology, you could only imagine what was going on behind the Black household’s closed door by what Sirius had told you.

Pain, screams and suffering enough to make even the strongest wizard or witch cry their eyes out, just to escape, just to... end it all.

Much like the sniffles coming from insidehis dorm after you entered, sniffles that did nothing to ease your nervousness.

And there he was, your absolutely soft and loving and perfect boyfriend, laying on his side as he clutched his cushion thightly while sobbing uncontrollably , his body heaving up and down as his cries rolled off his tongue and reached your ears. Your heart clenched painfully at the heartbroken boy before you, twisting an invisible knife deeper and deeper with each of his cries as you slowly walked up to him and sat down on the bed, alerting him to your presence before putting your hand on his shoulder and caressing his shoulder comfortingly with sad eyes.

“Reggie...” you knew how he hated that nickname, even throwing a fit to Evan how he didn’t like, though he always said he preferred only you to say it, so when he didn’t react even at that name, you sprinted to his other side after applying a locking charm to the door, guessing he would want to be alone with you right now withour anyone barging in.

At first, he tried to deny you and your touch, but you were persistent. When you said yes to date him, you made a promise to him that day: even if your ways split, you would still be there for him through thick and thin.

You wouldn’t ve another person who left him alone.

“I’m not leaving, I’m here... You’re safe, Regulus...”

And perhaps, it was the way your voice so softly comforted him and how your hands glided through his black curls, or maybe he was too tired after crying his heart out. Whatever it was, he suddenly got up and launched at you, burrying his face to your neck as you sat down on your butt and swayed him from side to side like a baby. Regulus was a man who fought until his last breath, someone who rebelled silently, someone who stood on his ground so strictly that you often thought there would be nothing that could break him.

What happened to him to make him turn into a mess?

What did they do this time?

He was talking, rambling about how bad it was and how she was gonna kill him for it but you didn’t know what “it” was. Your frown hardened by each passing second as his rambles got more intense with fear, fear of his own mother.

“ I-I h-had to leave... I had to leave there, Y/N! They... They wanted-“ another choked sob raked through him as you hugged him even thighter than previously, lifting his head in a hurry and desperately searching for your eyes, to see if you believed him, if you were trully there, if you were... real.

You held onto his face softly, running your thumb up amd down through the bridge of his nose as you kissed his lips to prove to him that you were real, and he was safe in Hogwarts, making him feel all of you as his tears wet your lips, leaving a bitter taste at your tongue.

Not from the salty taste, but the pain they held.

Your mind already finished his sentence without him actually doing so. Because there was only one thing you both feared, one thing that kept him awake at most nights...

One thing that made him cry onto your shoulders that much...

“Did they... Did they do it?” your shaky whisper shook him from the half-trance he was in, and your question made you shiver as if You-Know-Who’s hands were around your neck, your shoulders, the death and chaos that followed him around reeking even in the comforting bubble you two had in Regulus’ dorm.

He shook his head as his hands twisted the silk of your robe. “No... Bella came to the house, said that she wanted to take me to him... The Dark Lord. She said it would be an honor to fight for his cause...” he paused to gulp down the bile that rose to his throat, clenching his eyes shut and focusing on your comforting smell and warmth. He slowly calmed down and looked at you with his ocean blue eyes, wondering how it was possible for you to net be like his own family, how you were so kind and different than others. When he first saw you in the Great Hall, everyone was looking at you in awe, some were jealous and some were scared. Mostly half-bloods and muggle-borns who was now aware of your family and how in danger they were with a school full of purebloods who mostly wanted to get rid of them.

But just as your kindness and warmth eased him many times, they eased those who once feared you as you welcomed them all happily with open arms, making them promise to turn to you if something were troubling them. You proved everyone that you and your family wasn’t like those psychopaths who was hellbent on killing them, even if it made you be branded as “blood-traitor”. You didn’t seem like you cared much about it, rather spending time with your friends even when nasty Slytherins threw insults at you. All you did was to flip them off and go back to whatever you were doing...

And this was why he hesitated to talk to you at the beginning, both from his family status and the nasty comments that would be thrown at you from his house in Hogwarts. He thought you were only kind to muggle-borns and half-breeds since they were being bullied constantly and, harsh to the purebloods who insulted you.

And he was a pureblood... which meant that you would defiently flip him off and even hurt him.

Which proved to be wrong soon, when he cautiously walked up to you in potion class and asked for help as you turned around and gave him a wide smile as you patted the spot next to you. He didn’t want to think back to how close you two were as you listed the ingredients behind him and looked from his head and down at the cauldron to see if he was doing it right.

But it was the happiest he had ever been as you smiled at him and patted his back proudly as you called for the Professor and showed him your works. That was the moment he realized that he could talk to you without any fear, and also, come to you with some of his problems whether you were able to solve them or not. But perhaps, the biggest discovery about his first meeting with you was...

Knowing deep down that he would fall for you, and your dedication for those close to you.

He was proven right, and it was also a joy to realize this as much as it pained him. He knew with what kind of burden he came, and he didn’t want to do that to you. It wasn’t fair to such a sunshine person like you. But he had been a bit more selfish than he wanted to admit in his life, and he needed a light... A hope that showed him, told him that his days that was often covered with darkness would be gone soon.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve you, to have you return his feelings almost 2 years ago, but he was so damn glad to Merlin that you were in his life, that you were his light, his saviour.

Just a few minutes ago, he was miserable and scared and didn’t know what else to do. He felt like he was cornered like a wild, hurt animal, not knowing or seeing a way out.

But at least... He had you, he would always have you.

It wasn’t like he didn't come clean with this, his family and how they supported Voldemort. It was actually one of the main reasons that even if he loved you, his heart called for you, he would never try to court you. He couldn’t bring himself to be the reason your smile would fall, the reason you would be dragged into his mess.

But still... Both of you naively thought that he had more time, that you both had more time to act like a normal couple living a pink romance.

That was what you wanted to have. For Regulus to feel safe and happiness, away from the tragedy that was his family.

Apparently, Merlin had other plans.

“B-But... You’re still in school? I thought they wouldn’t...” your voice died down as horror filled you for what was coming to your ways. You were aware of their bond with the Dark Lord, and that they would make either him or Sirius join the DeathEaters too. Sirius was safe now that he ran away and seeked help from James, and you were happy for him. Sirius, James and Remus were your friends anyways, you loved hanging out with them or tutoring them.

Which meant almost all the time.

They were nice people, happy to help you at any time and anywhere, or well, every person who they loved and cherished...

That was exactly why you didn’t understand when Sirius appeared in James’ house alone, leaving his little brother, 14 at that time, alone in such a “hellhole”.

Alone and defenceless, crying much like now as he curled in a ball...

But deep down, you knew that Sirius was worried about him too. You knew him, and listened to him as he cried to you about how he wasn’t used to feeling safe and how worried sick he was for his brother. Something must have happened for Regulus to not let him come with his brother, and Sirius to not drag him away from that house.He, after all, was a stubborn little shit whether the situation was good or not.

But whatever it was that made both of them not to talk for months and reconcile, it came back to bite everyone’s ass.

“I know, love... I know...” he kissed the tip of your nose as he tried to comfort you back, feeling your fear as his. That was one of the reasons why he fell for you: You felt everyone’s pain even when they really didn’t deserve it.

And though he liked watching you get protective and help someone out while he stood behind and admired you, the tears sitting at the corner of your lovely eyes did nothing but break him even more as he wiped them away, kissing just under your eyes softly, afraid of inflicting you with even more pain.

“That’s what I said, that I should finish school first but... Mother said it was full of dirty wizards and witches, muggleborns and half-bloods. She said I was better off without all those scums....” your brows furrowed at how Walburga Black was so... full of hatred at those who wasn’t like her, her sons included. You probably never saw another human who was so full of hatred, her negativity pouring as venom, trying to poison everyone just as she once was. You had a good guess of why she was like this, why she always threw hatred and so many curses on practically everyone.

After all, none of her sons turned out to be like the Black family. Both of them didn’t support the “Pureblood nonsense” like they did, and Sirius was brave enough to rebel against them while Regulus did it more silently. He showed himself to be just like the perfect Black heir, did everything they asked for and stood tall against them.

He wasn’t brainwashed by them, and though they weren’t proud of him- and could never be- You were so damn proud for him, just like a certain older brother.

You didn’t know it but Regulus, had it been not for you, he feared he would have actually believed in them and what they said, solely for the reason that he wanted them to love him, to acknowledge him as a son. They wanted perfection and he wanted to be perfect, he needed to be perfect.

Because if he wasn’t... Who would he be to anyone?

You are Regulus Arcturus Black, he remembers you telling him after he finally came clean to you about what was in his mind, after asking you out. He was so sure you would decline, laugh it off or anything remotely that told him you didn’t feel the same, before he felt your soft hands slowly taking hold of his downcasted head as his eyes widened in surprise at how... content you looked with the same smile that ignited a fire deep in his soul that it never died, and would never do.. And you are a great man who is kind, strong and powerful, brave too! You are my favourite person in the whole world and I’ll spend an eternity reminding of who you are... Starting with, my boyfriend.

Silence scretchted between you two as he smiled softly at the memory, a perfect one to cast a Patronus perhaps. He desperately wished that this was one of those times you sneaked into his dorm for a nightly fate when he would for sure know that you would scare away all the demons in his head...

But unfortunately, the reality was something else. Something even more demonic and evil than the usual nightmares that haunted him.

Something that tore both him and you apart by how scary it was.

“What did you do... Regulus, did you do it?” he didn’t speak, just took your hands and put them on his sleeve, wanted you to look yourself. Because he didn’t have enough energy anymore. Suddenly, as you slowly pulled his sleeve up, the reality of what would have happened if he didn’t fight against them crashed him.

He would never see you saunter into the Great Hall every time, he wouldn’t sneak out in the middle of the night to have a late night date with you, he wouldn’t be the one to walk with you to your next class, he wouldn’t wait for you for food, he wouldn’t go to Hogsmeade and look at you as you begged to have some more candy from Honey &Dukes, he wouldn’t watch as yougot embrassed cutely...

He wouldn’t be there to love you, and you wouldn’t be there to love him.

You took a sharp intake of breath as you felt his skin over his dress shirt, as if somehow, you would feel the dark tint of the skull and snake symbol over his forearm. You would never judge him, never dare to do such thing. How could you, when you knew how much pain he would have to endure for it, knowing how much it would hurt him?

If that happened, if he yielded and accepted-or rather forced to- you would surely feel helpless and scared, for him. But then, there would absolutely be nothing stopping you from taking him to safety, and possibly going apeshit crazy at them for doing something, something he didn’t want to, on him.

“I just... I just wanted to be enough, for them t-to just... love us.” Your heart broke as stray tears escaped your eyes at how broken he sounded, how even amidst his pain, he still cated for his brother. Regulus took your silence and gasp as a bad sign, he murmured sadly with his eyes downcasted once more as he rubbed your tender flesh. He already felt like a total douchebag, including the voice that screamed at him that he was just like his family with you crying in front of him and him not being able to do anything, that he didn’t deserve anything good in life. And your soft cries didn’t help how he already felt helpless either.

“Don’t cry, love... I know that’s stupid but-“

“No it's no... Not if it’s making you feel like this...” you murmured as you took his hand between yours, squeezing his elegant and long fingers one by one as a way to comfort him as he smiled down at you, seated on his bed as the silky green color complimented you in the best way possible. His eyes looked at your body as the light casted on you made you look ethereal and take his breath away with your beauty. He looked down at your hands as they caressed his hands and wrist comfortingly, before pulling it up to reveal... smooth skin, without any dark ink covering it.

But...

Your hands stopped at feeling a bump on his perfect skin... A bump that wasn’t to be there... Alongside with bruises and yellow-ish tints on his arm...

“T-They... They did crucio o-on you?” you stammered out as you lofted his arm closer to yourself, looking between him and the bruises he had with wide eyes.

“Bella...” he said sadly as his hands clutched your arm thight, as if his life depended on you. And in a way, it did. You were his whole life, the only thing he had, and he would be nothing without you. “She did it, later mother beat me and threw insults and crucio at me...”

“I didn’t even say anything at first... Until she included you. How she would destroy you, ruin you since you were being a distraction to me and what was more important.” He explained as he took your hands between his and kissed them, a gesture that often left you a blushing mess, and continued. “That’s when I decided that it was enough. That all the pain she inflicted on us, on me was over. I had a life, my life... I would never let her or anyone hurt you, so I fought back and... well, you know the rest.” He mumbled shyly as he peered at you, trying to determine what the effect of his words were to you. Flushed cheeks and wide eyes? That’s something he expected. Shuffling like a cat in embrassment? Also expected, that was something you usually did with him which was another thing that he found adorable.

But what wasn’t expected was what left your mouth.

“I’ve always loved that about you...” you whispered out eith softest eye possible and this time, it was the Regulus Black who blushed.

“What do you mean?”

You shrugged your shoulders as he frowned, but upon you not looking at him and the sudden urge to hide yourself, he smirked and threw his arms around your waist to pull you against him as he nuzzled his face to your neck while your hands played with his curls. He was glad that once sad and bad vibe left to a more pleasant and happy one as he shared this moment with you, with hugging and kissing.

You giggled as the ticklish feeling his lips left on yourbskin made you groan while trying to stop him, so that you could get those words out. You loved his kisses and how they made you feel, but you had to say this... Or else it would eat you alive, and then you would be frowning the whole next day.

“I mean-hey, stop! I’m trying to be romantic here!” you swatted his hand away as it slowly slithered upwards aling the expanse of your naked back, ruhhing circles on the flesh there as he hummed. “I thought it was my thing, love?”

“Yeah, but now, I changed it! It’s mine now, you did it a lot. Now, will you please listen, my pretty and handsome boyfriend?”

“Hmm... Gotta think, love... Maybe after a kiss?” he wiggled his brows playfully as you rolled your eyes but did so, smiling into the soft and lingering kiss you both shared.

Ugh, this boy... Always looking for way to smooch me...

“Now that you had your kiss,” you said after being parted from him, panting at the intensity of the kiss and trying hard to not dive back at the sight of his pink and swollen lips, you continued with a finger idly rubbing his lips and then his beauty mark under his chin.

“I love your brave heart. Even if you might not think so, you have been standing up against them for so long and you, protecting me even if I wasn’t there further proves it...” you looked at him with a kind look and took his hand to place it on your chest, right where your heart was as you continued.

“I love how you always know how to make me smile, no one makes me smile the way you do, my days better and surprise me. I love how you always seem like you don’t care but actually listen when there is something we, any of us, want or when something is bothering us.”

“I love how thoughtful you are, even when it breaks you... Just like how when Sirius left home, and you came to me crying. Not because you felt anger or hatred, which would have been understanable by the way, but rather joy. Joy, because you knew that it was a new start for him so that he could live a normal life even if it killed you.” A scoff left you in the middle of your speech remembering how your best friend left his little brother like that but soon disappeared when you remembered how broken he was when he talked about his brother.

Regulus, though, was in shock. Because no one in his life had ever been that thoughful and attentive to the way he felt. No one really saw what was hidden behind his strong façade but yet again, you weren’t “no one” and he was always going to be understood.

From now on, and until forever.

“you don’t think I’m... broken? Bad?” he mumbled as he looked at you through his lashes, head down but still smiling. Your heart soared for the boy before you and you leant down to capture his lips with yours, but not before uttering one lost heartfelt sentence.

“All I know is that I love you, that you deserve everything good in life.”

Regulus sniffled once more as he accepted your kiss, humming happily as he allowed you to deepen it. Little shocks went through his body and he wondered if you felt it too but didn’t dwell on it more. He only accepted your unconditional love.

“I know I don’t say it out loud much, but I really do love you so much... You’re all I’ll ever need to feel better.”

“And I love you, love... So much.” You whispered silently, kissing the topnof his head as he thightened his hold on you. Everything was nice and silent once more, only the sounds from the crickets and owls reaching both of your ears. You kissed his head, his forehead and cheek contionously while he laughed, genuinely laughed since he came back, while trying to make you stop. He knew trying to physically stop you wouldn’t work, so he opted for other ways.

Like, kissing you desperately from your neck as he breathed out to tour most sensitive part of the column of your neck, gracefully out only for him to kiss, to mark.

And he wasn’t wrong. When you felt his hot lips on your neck trailing wet and fast kisses up and down your neck, you gasped and let him do as he wanted. Your legs opened for him to step between them, hovering over you with both of his hands on each side of your head as he gazed at you with love and clear desperation. At that moment, you two weren’t just two lovers who were fucking around.

You two were soulmates that understood each other on another level.

He suddenly stopped his ministrations and just looked down at you from above you for a few seconds before sighing dejectedly.

“I don’t want to live there... But I don’t know where-“

“You are not going back to that place, Regulus. Not again, I won’t allow it.” You sternly cut him as you rose up on your hands, brows knitted together while you pushed yourself up as he lowered back and looked at you as if you were crazy.

“B-but... I have nowhere else to go! They would cut me off of the tapestry and disown me! Sirius had James and-“ he exclaimed in distress as he started to shake again, shaking his head at the sudden panic of the reality and what he was supposed to do. He was so caught up in the comfort he had after so long that he had forgotten about what was waiting for him.

His mother with her wand out to use even mkre gruesome punishments, forcing him to come to their meeting and kill innocents...

He couldn’t get help if they did it, and how would his brother look at him if he were to get that damned mark? He already didn’t consider him as a brother, he would definetly refuse to have anything to do with him after he sees it.

And you? How would you accept him like that? A vicious killer who would have to work for the Dark Lord even if it was the last thing he wanted?

You wouldn’t deserve it, you wouldn’t want it, you wouldn’t love him, you wouldn’t accept him, he would be all alone and then be killed as-

“And you have me..! You could stay with me and my family, you know they would do anything to protect us.”

Your desperate call for him was what made him come back to his senses, from the panic attack he had at just thinking about the possibilities. He didn’t register what you said at first. Inside his mind, there seemed to be a constant whirl and buzzing sound as if he was fighting back against a huge storm and he was just... trying, trying and trying but failing in the end.

But it was because he tried to do it alone. He was never allowed to ask for help since it was a “sign of weakness” as his father called it, but now that he had a different circle of people, different friends and above all you, he didn’t have to fear anything.

The way Regulus broke down at the mere mention of his family house( something that was supposed to be comforting) broke you, the sight of the kind boy you knew being treated that way... You couldn’t allow it anymore. There was no way you were letting him go to that house, back into Walburga’s waiting arms as she was waiting to point that damned wand to her own son and mercilessly torture him.

And, to prevent it, a bright idea came to your mind. Sure, there was a potential that your parents would be shocked, more likely have questions as to why they were hosting the boy but thwy would understand... and hopefully help him out.

“You know how my mum adores you, they would gladly help us both.” You weren’t lying to comfort him or yourself, it was true. Last summer, when you brought him to your house after he told something about his whereabouts to his mother, he stayed with you and he would always be thankful for what you did for him that summer. Because those 3 months were the best he had in a long time. At first, when he witnessed the pure love and care there was between all of you, he felt jealous and angry.

Jealous because he didn’t have, and could never have, what you had. He felt the bitter pangs of knives every time you kissed your parents, they brought you home made meals to your room as you showed him the cool muggle books or listened to songs on your bed as you held hands and looked at each other with lovesick smiles. The way you bravely sneaked into the guest room just to fall asleep with him, to comfort him so that he didn’t feel alone changed him in a way, made him more brave.

You didn’t have to know, but your mum always checked on him during night to see if he was doing fine and smiled whemever she saw you both sleeping while hugging each other as if your lives depended on it.

But even when he was jealous of you and your parents, though never serious, he had a clear mind to judge the situation and then... he realized how they included him to their casual lifes as well, just like you did.

It was like a famy thing, huh?

How your mother requested him to come to the kitchen and later taught him how to cook some meals, tasted what she cooked and even helped her out around the house all the while listening to her talk shit about almost every family in the wizarding world, except Weasleys, with a huge smile on his face.

He could never dare to do that in his own house, but here, in your own... He was sitting with your mother on the kitchen with a cup of tea and biscuits while they talked and talked. She took after her mother, both inner and outer beauty, he would think as he gazed at the way your mum talked and even threw some praises at him here and there which didn’t fail to make him blush.

He really wanted to be a part of that life, he needed it... He had never been happier than he was at that time and to hear you say that he could be...

“I can? You... Promise?” he hopefully asked with tears in his eyes as you nodded uour head immediately, bringing him for yet another hug as you kissed his nape softly.

“Yes, I promise. You and I, forever and then even more... Remember?” he suddenly surged forward and took your face in his hands, inhaling your shampoo before diving for a passionate kiss as his hands wrapped themselves around your waist and pulled you to his lap. He poured all his love and gratitude into it, teeth clashing together as his lips and tongue desperately searched for yours.

You squealed but then moaned slightly at how hot you suddenly felt, how his movements and kiss heated you up more than normal. This kiss wasn’t normal, this side of Regulus wasn’t normal. He normally was someone who showed his love silently, who kissed you under shadows. You understood it well, he wasn’t a man who liked to show off with physcial affection and rather made his silent care work its magic.

But right now, this Regulus was fragile and sensitive, and his desperate kisses showed it too as he wanted you to... know it.

And Merlin, did you know it...

You held onto his neck and hair as your lips moved against his lips, leaning him back amd making him lay on his back as your body laid on his flush, chest to chest. The kiss was everything you both wanted, it has been so long since he deprivee both himself and you from each other but it wasn’t the time for it to lead to something more.

Not when he was so in pain, and need of comfort.

Besides, there was something else that needed to be talked about if you were doing what you were planning to do. Some people that needed to know, who would gladly move the entire universe for the boy below you

You shyly looked at him with a troubled look and Regulus’ brows knitted together as he worriedly took a hold of your face in his warm palms. “Is something wrong, my love? Was it too much?”

You looked at him in amazement, the fact that he still thought about your comfort when he was the one who needed it bedazzled you. But like you said, it was a trait you loved about him, perhaps the the best one.

You shook your head while taking a huge breath in. “No, love... It was quite... enjoyable.” You flushed under his teasing smirk, cursing at him for making you feel like a little kid being offered candy inside your mind as you cleared your throat and got off of him to sit next to where his body was now leaned back against the head of his bed. He was looking at you with confusion and slight worry, wondering ehat was on your mind as his hand wandered to your knee and rubbed it gently. To not give him any more scare any longer, you took in his glorious sight and continued.

“There are two more people who you could turn for help to.”

That was something you both talked about a lot, who he would turn to if shit went wrong and he had to act quick with his escape. You always knew that Regulus shouldn’t stay in that house even a moment longer, but he insisted that he was fine and assured you that everything was under his control with a swift kiss to your forehead.

So you kept your silence. You didn’t talk about it again until he would want to, but still... You told Sirius about the awful things they did to Regulus as he listened with clenched jaw and asked him if there was anything he could help with when the time comes.

Not if... When.

Because everyone knew that the inevitable was waiting right outside the door, and there was no stopping it.

And he of course, immediately offered himself which you declined for the time being since Regulus still believed that he hated his brother. You watched how broken he suddenly seemed after you said it but still nodded, knowing how he fucked everything up by not grabbing him with himself as he left, and gavr you their uncle’s name.

“He is a good man, also like us who didn’t believe in their ways... If there is anyone that could help, it’s him.”

Regulus tilted his head to you as if asking what you meant, how the hell it was possible that there would be more people who could help him, and with a sigh, you looked at his eyes. “Your uncle Alphard and... Sirius.”

“No... My uncle? That’s fine. But Sirius... He hates me, love. He showed me how he felt about me! He wouldn’t want anything to do with me!” he got up from his bed hastily in panic and went to the open window as he leant over it with his hands in his hair, welcoming the fresh and cool air into his lungs.

You understood where he was coming from, knowing little pieces about how that night went between them and how he... did a lot for Sirius that night, something he didn’t know and probably would never. Some harsh words were apparently exchanged between them and even if they both knew that the other didn’t mean it...

It didn’t hurt any less.

Regulus thought that Sirius chose James over his own brother and hated him for being the way he is.

Sirius thought his little brother wad ashamed of the person he was, how he always caused trouble even as toddlers and made him get hurt even though he would mostly be the one taking the blame for him.

And you thought that the Black brothers were stupidest motherfuckers in the whole world.

Your arms fell helplessly on the bed as you watched Regulus break down, almost, again. You never felt this helpless in your life, and your gut told you that the reason of his agitation was partly because he hated himself for making you go through this, but...

You promised him one year ago that no matter what happens, you would be there for him.

Always.

“No, my love... Sirius loves you and cares about you. I know, because I listened to him as he cried in James’ house.” You walked up to him slowly, took his hand and stood before him as your hand crept up towards his sculpted face and rubbed his cheek softly before tiptoeing and kissing each side of his cheek as he smiled and exhaled slowly.

At that time, things were tense for them. So much so that it affected the school as well. Sirius was still on edge because of his parents, worried sick for both Regulus and himself, thinking that they were planning something evil about himself. Regulus was hurt because his brother left him, for James, and even called him his “brother” which didn’t seem anything friendly to the poor, young boy who was drowning in his insecurities. It didn’t matter that he was already thinking about also running away, to you probably, but he wasn’t abandoning a brother for another one in his eyes and therefore blamed Sirius for being selfish.

But, as much as you understood both Regulus’ frustration and Sirius’ anger, you also knew that your friend and the older brother of your lover would drop everything to help his little brother out of that shithole.

“Just... Talk to him. Because I know you, you would regret not doing so if you don’t do it.” You sighed out tiredly, the later hours into the night catching up to you as you begged him softly, hoping that he would accept. A part of you feared that he wouldn’t, and tey to solve this by himself like always...

But you were his weakness, the reason he rebelled back and changed his future unknown to either one of you.

He would kill for you, die for you, live for you and turn the whole universe upside down if he had the power.

“Okay... Will you... Will you also be there? For me?” he softly smiled and kissed your nose, leaning his forehead to yours as he waited for your answer with a small smile. You smiled before kissing him deeply, slowly as your lips lingered on his and he closed his eyes slowly as if to savour this moment. You tugged him towards bed with a whine. “ Forever and always... Now, come back to bed.”

At that, a playful smirk found his face since you came in his room. “Now, I thought we could get to that lever later in our relationship, love.” You blushed heavily at how that one innocent sentence seemed so... cozy and something a married couple would say. You hid your face at the sudden flashes of you two being married, living your dreams in a cottage far way from everyone came before your eyes before punching his arm. It didn’t do anything of course, that boy was fit contrary to what people thought by his lanky figure, except making him laugh and kiss your hairline.

“You’re so adorable when you blush... Alright, let’s go and sleep.” You smiled as you watched him get under his duvet and groan in relief when he found a good position to sleep, blushing at how the expanse of his back flexed with each of his movements. You sighed in relief at seeing that he would finally fall into a comforting sleep and moved to quitely get out of his dorm when his monotone yet curious voice reached you, halting you in your steps.

“And, where do you think you are going?” he asked matter of factly as you stood there like a deer, with a hand on the doorknob as you slowly turned to look at him sitting down on his bed and laying halfway down with his torso out. “Uh... Going back to my dorm?”

“And who said you could?” he raised a brow at you questioningly as you laughed awkwardly, turning fully to him with your arms crossed in front of your chest as you looked down at him hesitated.

“I thought you would want to... be-“

“Trust me, love, being alone is the last thing I need right now... I need you...” he shyly said, his cockiness suddenly disappearing as he opened the duvet and offered you to come and sleep with him. His chuckle of disbelief made you scoff at him as you went up to him and got under it without making him repeat himself. He chuckled once more as he pulled you towards him, snuggling to you as your arms wrappes around him and soon you both fell asleep to the comforting embrace of your lover.

When he arrived in his room, he was terrified of going back to Grimmauld House and be forced to accept the Dark Lord’s way. He felt as if there was no other option for him, and he even mentally prepared himself to break up with you to save you from the tragedy. But as you slowly came back to his bed and sat down before inching closer to him and settling right next to him on the single bed, your bodies flushed together as you laid your hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating loudly, he felt hope blossom in his chest.

Even if he chuckled and tried to play the cool Regulus to hide how these all meant a lot to him

He fell asleep peacefully with you between his arms and this time, rather than those nightmares that decorated his dreams as he only saw his mother and the red hue of the cruciotus curse, he now dreamed of future.

A future where he was happy with you, in a country-side...

A future where you would be waiting for him with just as warm and soft embrace, continuing to lighten his days just as you are doing just by existing...

A future where he is safe and happy, with the family you two might create, a family that would be completely different than the one he has.

And, for the first time in 16 years, he had a good nights of smorning.yoy btoh laid under his duvet together, not caring about the teasing he would face the next morning.

#SUMMER CELEBRATION🏖#regulus black x female reader #regulus black x you #regulus x y/n #regulus x reader #regulus black #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x reader #regulus being regulus #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #some drama #but it's light

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karenandhenwillson · 3 months

Text

I think I figured out, at least for myself, why the 9-1-1 fandom and part of the Buddie-or-Bust side of it feels so much more toxic than ever before when I know for a fact, those demanding Buddie has to become canon and who are looking for any tiny clue to be able to say it will become canon have always been this toxic. (I mean, with the exception of some people who came into the show because with Buck being bi the show was suddenly not queerbaiting anymore--lol, it hurts even just writing this as if it were really true--and then became die-hard Buddie fans or at least pretend to be to garner enough followers and clicks to make money out of fandom. But I'm not talking about them here.)

Before Bucktommy, there was no real opposition for them in the fandom. Buck and Eddie both had other LI and those had their fans (I know for a fact there are still people now shipping Buck with Taylor or Buck with Marisol or Eddie with Shannon). But those were very few fans and they created their own little spaces in fandom places and were barely noticeable. So the Buddie-or-Bust fans were able to mostly ignore them. And there have of course also been some small fanon ships for Eddie and Buck with other people, but those are barely noticed either.

But Bucktommy? That got huge in practically an instant. Because so many people were excited for bi story line with an established character and one in Buck's circumstances (not even Buck himself). And the Bucktommy fans were loud about their support of this new canon ship. So Buddie-or-Bust fans suddenly felt threatened and became much louder in their hate for anything not Buddie. Because now, for some reason, the fans of the other ship seem to be a threat to them. And also, for the first time for any of the LI of Eddie or Buck, they made an honest effort to set up Tommy and the relationship with him as something long-term. Which the Buddie-or-Bust fans recognize just as much as the Bucktommy fans, and so they try even harder to find fault in every single thing.

And that did change something in the behavior of the die-hard Buddie fans. At times, I've been neck-deep in Ana bashing, in Shannon bashing, in Taylor bashing, in Chimney bashing, in Abby bashing, in Maddie bashing. Because I enjoy a good bashing at times. It can be very cathartic. But you know what I've never seen there? I've never seen any of those characters being called derogatory names. Or their fans being called derogatory names and, in most cases, their fans didn't retaliate to the bashing either. (Though, at least for Chimney fans they sometimes very viciously go against people even just mentioning they don't like him and it came up a couple of times that Chimney fans found derogatory names for those bashing Chimney because that group of fans also seems to be unable to avoid content bashing their fav and instead sought it out deliberately to complaint about it.)

I can't even count anymore how many derogatory names I've seen for Tommy or Bucktommy or Bucktommy fans. They seem to come up with a new name every other day. And they enjoy trumping each other in their creations and using those names to get around the boundaries others try to set for themselves by filtering out the already known names.

And I already see people coming at me with "Oh, but Bucktommy fans started it by calling us BoBs." and just: No. Once more, you get an F in reading comprehension. It's always been made very clear that BoBs stood for Buddie-or-Bust and I personally don't see anything derogatory here but also, it's always been made very clear it's a specific subset of Buddie fans who behave poorly to separate them from the Buddie fans who don't care about Bucktommy. Because those people using that term are very well aware that there are really just a couple of very loud bad apples in the Buddie side of fandom and the rest of the Buddie fans don't deserve to be lumped in with them. While, on the other hand, all Bucktommy fans are always called names as a whole.

And I think their biggest problem is not even necessarily the "threat" they perceive Bucktommy to be to their own ship, though that's clearly a big part still. Otherwise, they wouldn't come after authors and artists and other fans who once shipped and created for Buddie and are now creating for Bucktommy. And otherwise, they wouldn't tag so many Buddie fics as Bucktommy, too, in some kind of strange hope to convince Bucktommy fans to ship Buddie again. (Without noticing that all they are accomplishing is to make everyone annoyed at them. And yes, that includes those Buddie fans who don't care for Bucktommy at all because they need to curate the Buddie tag very carefully now, too.)

I think their biggest problem is this belief that their ship is only valid if it's canon.

Which is so strange. Fandom has always mostly been about ships that are very much not canon. And no one ever expected their ships to become canon in the past, as far as I know. (Except if it was promoted and then didn't happen. Looking at Sterek here.) Canon ships barely get any attention. I mean, look at all the 9-1-1 ships that are canon, including Tarlos, and how little content there is for any of them, and also how little engagement there is for this content compared to Buddie. That's always been a trend in fandom, that's not new with 9-1-1.

It's not only strange, I also think it's honestly sad for these fans. Because they have deliberately set themselves up to be disappointed and dig that hole of disappointment ever deeper. Even if Buddie should ever go canon, which I honestly don't think will happen, it won't be at all what they expect. And they'll either leave the fandom or turn on the ship they were so toxically addicted to before.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #911 discourse #fandom discourse

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whereforarthur · 18 days

Text

Brother’s Flatmate

Request: anything that starts angsty but ends fluffy PLS

Pairing: Arthur Hill x George’sSister!Reader

Category: Angst to Fluff

Word Count: 4.3k

*****

"Real love doesn't meet you at your best. It meets you in your mess." – J.S. Park

In the bustling heart of London, where the Thames River curved its ancient path, there was a man named Arthur Hill. He was known to many as a charismatic YouTuber with a velvety singing voice, yet to his closest friend George, he was simply Arthur, the bloke who was always there for a pint and a laugh. Arthur's flat, a cozy sanctuary tucked above a quaint bookstore, reflected his unassuming nature—a blend of vintage furniture and the faint scent of dusty pages that spoke of quiet nights spent reading and recording his latest vlogs.

The flat was often filled with the sound of George's raucous laughter as the two friends bantered over cups of tea. However, the dynamic changed whenever George's sister, Y/N, was around. She was a sharp contrast to Arthur's laid-back demeanor—ambitious, driven, and often blunt to the point of discomfort. Her visits were met with a tension so palpable it could be sliced with a knife.

Today was no exception. The moment she barged in, Arthur felt the atmosphere shift. He set aside his camera, knowing that the evening's vlog would have to wait. Y/N's eyes narrowed as she assessed the cluttered room, a clear judgment of his lifestyle.

"It's not just a bit of mess," she retorted, her voice laced with frustration. "It's a health hazard. And it's not like you don't know how to clean up after yourself, Arthur."

The unspoken hostility between them was a constant thorn in George's side. He had no idea what had caused the rift, only that it had grown wider with each passing year. Arthur and Y/N had never seen eye to eye, and it was clear that their dislike for each other was deeply rooted.

"Look, I've had a long day," Arthur said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Could we not do this now?"

Y/N scoffed. "I'm just saying, if you want to be taken seriously as an influencer, you should start by taking your living conditions seriously."

The comment hit a nerve. Arthur's success had always been a sore spot for her, a constant reminder of her own unfulfilled aspirations. Her words stung, and he felt his temper begin to flare.

"And what would you know about that?" he shot back. "You've never had to chase your dreams because you've always had everything handed to you on a silver platter."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice dangerously low.

Arthur took a deep breath, knowing he had crossed a line. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, trying to backpedal. But the damage was done.

"You don't get it," Arthur said, his voice tight. "You never have. You think because I make videos and sing songs, I don't have a clue about hard work?"

"I didn't say that," Y/N replied, her voice equally as tense. "I said you should take better care of yourself. This place is a mess, and it's a reflection of your priorities."

The accusation stung, and Arthur felt his cheeks heat up. He had always prided himself on his authenticity, his willingness to show his true self to his followers. Yet here she was, suggesting he was a fraud.

"You think I don't know what real work is?" he spat out, his eyes flashing. "You sit in your fancy office all day, sipping lattes and bossing people around, while I'm out here, trying to make a difference in the lives of my fans."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You're not curing cancer with your videos, Arthur."

The words hung in the air, a challenge that Arthur couldn't ignore. "At least I'm not living a lie," he retorted. "Pretending to be someone I'm not just to climb the corporate ladder."

Y/N's job was a sore subject for her, a constant battle against the expectations of their family's legacy. He opened his mouth to intervene, but she was already responding, her voice icy.

"You wouldn't know the first thing about hard work, Arthur," she said, her eyes glinting. "You play dress-up and make jokes for a living. It's easy to be liked when you're not actually doing anything of substance."

The words hit Arthur like a punch to the gut. He had always felt a little guilty about his chosen career path, especially compared to Y/N's high-flying corporate job. But he also knew that his content brought joy and comfort to millions. He clenched his fists, trying to keep his cool.

"You don't know anything about what I do," he said, his voice measured. "You think it's all fun and games, but there's a lot more to it than you see."

Y/N folded her arms, unmoved by his defense. "Oh, I know all about it," she said. "You sit here, making videos that people watch to forget their own lives, and you think that's meaningful?"

"It is to them," Arthur said, his voice rising. "It's more than you do, stuck in your ivory tower."

Y/N's eyes flashed. "At least I'm not living in a fantasy world," she snapped. "At least I'm not chasing after something that's never going to be more than a hobby."

"It's not a hobby," Arthur said, his voice strained. "It's my life."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Your life? More like your escape," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "You're afraid to face the real world, so you hide behind a screen and pretend you're important."

*****

Arthur's eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at her, the words cutting deep. He hated her—no, he didn't. He didn't hate her. It was something else, something more complicated. He hated the way she made him feel, the way she brought out his insecurities, the way she questioned his very existence. He hated that she could do that to him.

But he didn't hate her. She was George's sister, and George was his best mate. He couldn't hate her. Could he? The more he thought about it, the more he realized that what he felt was closer to fear. Fear that she might be right. Fear that he was just a glorified clown, dancing for the amusement of the masses.

He took a step towards her, his hands balled into fists. "You don't know anything about me," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "You think you're so much better, but you're just as lost as I am."

Y/N's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes flickered. For a moment, Arthur thought he saw a glimpse of vulnerability, a hint of doubt. But she quickly masked it with a sneer. "You're pathetic," she said. "You're wasting your life on this nonsense."

Arthur felt his heart racing, the blood pounding in his ears. He didn't hate her, not really. But her words stung because they echoed his own fears. He had always wondered if his career was just a facade, a way to avoid the responsibilities of adulthood. Yet here he was, standing up for what he believed in, for the community he had built, the fans who looked up to him.

"You're just jealous," he spat out, the anger giving him courage. "You're jealous that I found something I love, something that makes people happy."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "You think you're so special," she said. "You're not. You're just a pretty face with a decent singing voice."

Arthur felt his anger boil over. "And you're just a cold-hearted bitch," he said, his voice shaking. "You don't know the first thing about love or passion."

Y/N's eyes went wide with shock at the venom in his words. For a moment, she looked as though she had been slapped. Then, she laughed—a bitter, harsh sound that rang through the flat. "Love and passion? Is that what you call it? A bunch of teenagers worshipping you?"

The room was a battleground, the air thick with animosity. The line between love and hate was paper-thin, and it was clear that they had both danced upon it for too long. Arthur's heart felt as though it was being squeezed in a vice, the weight of her accusations crushing him. Yet, amidst the anger, there was something else—a strange warmth that he couldn't quite explain. It was as if their shared disdain had kindled a spark of something more.

Y/N's eyes searched Arthur's, and for a fleeting moment, he saw a flicker of doubt in her gaze. The mask of superiority slipped, revealing a hint of the insecurity that lay beneath. She had always been the successful one, the one who had everything figured out, while he had stumbled into fame almost by accident. Yet here they were, both lost in their own ways.

"Shut up," Arthur murmured, the words barely audible. He didn't know if he was speaking to her or to the voice in his own head, the one that whispered doubt and fear.

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes flashing. "Make me," she challenged, her voice low and dangerous. The air between them crackled with tension.

Arthur's hand shot out, his fingertips brushing against her cheek. It was a gentle touch, a stark contrast to the harshness of their words. Y/N's eyes widened, and she took a sharp intake of breath, as though she hadn't expected the softness. For a second, they just stared at each other, the electricity between them palpable.

Then, before he could think better of it, Arthur leaned in and kissed her—harshly, desperately. He kissed her as if he was trying to prove a point, to show her that he was more than the sum of his YouTube views and singing talents. He kissed her as if he could erase the years of contempt with one fiery gesture.

Y/N's body stiffened, her eyes widening in shock, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the kiss, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. It was a strange, intoxicating dance of anger and attraction that neither of them had seen coming. The heat between them grew, the air in the room thickening until it was almost suffocating.

*****

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. Y/N's cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark with a mix of anger and something else—desire? Arthur couldn't tell. He felt as though he was drowning in confusion, his chest tight with emotion.

"I hate you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. But the way she said it, the way her breath hitched, told him she didn't mean it. Not entirely.

Arthur's chest tightened. "No, you don't," he said, his voice low and intense. "You're just scared."

Y/N's eyes searched his, a storm of emotions raging within them. "Scared of what?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Scared of admitting that maybe, just maybe, we're not so different after all," Arthur said, his voice low and earnest. "Scared of what this could be."

Y/N stared at him, her eyes searched his, looking for a sign that he was joking, that this was all some twisted ploy. But Arthur's gaze was unwavering, his expression raw and vulnerable. The truth of his words hit her like a tidal wave, and she felt the walls she had built around her heart begin to crumble.

"We're nothing alike," she whispered, her voice shaking. But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. They were both chasing their own versions of success, their own ways of making an impact on the world.

Arthur stepped closer, his hand still resting on her cheek. "We're more alike than you think," he said softly. "We both want to be seen, to be heard, to matter."

Y/N's breath hitched. She didn't hate him, not really. But she had spent so long pushing him away, hiding behind her sarcasm and scorn, because the alternative was too terrifying to consider. If she let him in, if she allowed herself to care, she might just get her heart broken. And she had been down that road before—she wasn't sure she could handle it again.

"I don't do feelings," she said, her voice a feeble attempt at the armor she had worn for so long. But Arthur's hand remained on her cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles that seemed to be unraveling her very soul.

"Well, you're doing a bloody good job of hiding them," Arthur said with a sad smile. "But I can see right through you, Y/N. And I think it's about time we both faced them."

Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign of a bluff. But all she found was honesty, a stark contrast to the barbed words they had exchanged just moments ago. Slowly, she reached up and placed her hand over his, her touch tentative yet filled with a spark of hope. "What are you saying, Arthur?"

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words before speaking them. "I'm saying that maybe, just maybe, we should stop fighting and start understanding each other." His thumb continued to caress her cheek, his gaze never leaving hers. "We're both just trying to find our place in this world, and maybe we could help each other do that."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, the walls she had built around herself feeling more fragile than ever. The idea of letting Arthur in, of admitting that she might need someone, was as terrifying as it was tempting. Yet, she couldn't deny the undeniable pull she felt towards him, the way his touch made her feel seen, understood.

"I don't know if I can do that," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've spent so long pushing people away."

Arthur's eyes searched hers, filled with a gentle understanding that seemed to see right through her tough exterior. "I know," he said, his voice equally soft. "But maybe it's time to try something new."

The silence that fell between them was heavier than any of their previous barbs. Y/N felt the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand, and the sincerity of his words. It was a stark contrast to the chaos that usually surrounded their interactions, a gentle reminder that love could emerge from the most unlikely of places.

Her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of a lie or a hidden motive. But all she found was a mirror to her own confusion and yearning. Arthur was right—they were both lost in their own ways, but perhaps together they could navigate the tumultuous waters of life.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice shaky with uncertainty. "Okay, let's try."

Their kiss was not gentle this time, but it was not fueled by anger either. It was a kiss of understanding, of two souls colliding in the messiness of their shared existence. Arthur's arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and she melted into him, her own arms snaking around his waist. It was as though they had been holding onto this moment for years, waiting for the perfect storm of words and emotions to bring it to the surface.

As they broke away, both panting, they stared at each other with a newfound appreciation. The hostility that had once dominated their interactions was now replaced with a strange, thrilling anticipation. They had both been hiding behind their own fears and insecurities, throwing jabs and insults to keep the other at bay. But in that one moment, they had found a common ground—the mess of their lives.

Arthur knew that real love didn't emerge from a perfect, pristine environment. It grew in the cracks of doubt and the weeds of imperfection. It was in the chaos of their shouting match that he had seen the real Y/N, the one who was just as lost and scared as he was. And in that chaos, he had found something beautiful—a spark of connection that was more real than any of the scripted moments in his videos.

They stood there, in the silence that followed the storm of their words, their hearts racing in unison. The tension between them had shifted, no longer a barrier but a bridge, a delicate yet solid connection that neither wanted to break. Y/N's eyes searched Arthur's, looking for confirmation that this was real, that she wasn't just imagining the tenderness in his gaze.

*****

"I'm sorry," Arthur murmured, his thumb still tracing circles on her cheek. "For everything."

Y/N nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Me too," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I've been a bitch."

Arthur's hand slid down to her neck, his thumb brushing against the rapid pulse in her throat. "You've had your reasons," he said, his voice gentle. "But let's leave them behind now."

Y/N nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "Okay," she whispered. "Let's start again."

Arthur wiped the tear away with his thumb, his eyes never leaving hers. "We don't have to start over," he said softly. "We just have to start… differently."

Y/N took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against his chest. "Differently," she echoed, the word feeling strange and yet incredibly right on her tongue.

Arthur's gaze searched hers, his eyes filled with a warmth she hadn't seen before. It was as though he had just discovered a hidden treasure, something precious that had been buried beneath layers of anger and misunderstanding.

"I didn't know," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "I didn't know it could feel like this."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searched his, and she could see the realization dawning in his gaze—the raw, unfiltered understanding of what love truly meant. It was as if he had just stepped into the sunlight after years of darkness.

Arthur's eyes searched hers, the weight of his realization heavy in his gaze. It was a look that spoke of a thousand unsaid words, of moments of doubt and fear that had led them to this precipice. In that instant, she knew that he saw her—the real her, not the armored version she presented to the world. He saw the vulnerability she had worked so hard to hide, the softness that lay beneath the sharp edges of her sarcasm.

"Neither did I," she murmured, her voice shaky. She felt the warmth of his breath against her skin, the steady beat of his heart under her palm. The tension between them had transformed into something new, something that made her heart flutter in a way she had long ago convinced herself she was immune to.

They stood there, in the quiet aftermath of their confrontation, the air charged with the electricity of their newfound connection. It was strange, terrifying, and yet, somehow, it felt more real than anything she had ever experienced. For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, she had found someone who truly understood her.

"We'll take it slow," Arthur said, his voice low and soothing. "We'll get to know each other without the baggage of what we've always thought we knew."

Y/N nodded, the tightness in her chest slowly easing. The idea of taking it slow was both comforting and exhilarating. She had always rushed into things, eager to prove herself, to conquer and claim. But with Arthur, she felt the need to be gentle, to tiptoe around the fragility of this newfound bond.

"Okay," she said, her voice a whisper. "We'll start tonight."

*****

They decided to order takeout, a simple meal of fish and chips from the chippy down the street. As they waited, Arthur suggested they watch one of his videos together, one that had a special meaning to him. Y/N agreed, her curiosity piqued.

The video was of Arthur singing a cover of an obscure indie song, the melody haunting and beautiful. As he watched her reaction, he explained how the lyrics had resonated with him during a particularly tough time in his life, how the words had given him the courage to keep going. Y/N listened, her eyes never leaving the screen, and for the first time, she saw the depth of his passion, the raw emotion that fueled his art.

When the video ended, she turned to him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I had no idea," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I never knew you felt like that."

Arthur took her hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles on her skin. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he said, his voice gentle. "And I want to show you."

The night stretched out before them, a canvas of unexplored possibilities. They talked, shared stories, and laughed—the kind of laughter that washed away the years of tension and left them feeling lighter, freer. It was a tentative start, a delicate dance of opening up to each other.

As they sat there, on the couch in Arthur's cluttered flat, surrounded by the detritus of his life, Y/N felt something within her shift. It was as though she had been holding her breath for years, and now, finally, she could exhale.

The kiss that followed was not driven by anger or spite. It was born of a newfound respect, a tentative curiosity that grew into a blaze of passion. Their lips met, and it was as though all the words they had left unsaid were finally finding their voice.

When they parted, Y/N's heart was racing, her cheeks flushed. She looked into Arthur's eyes and saw the same wonder reflected in his gaze. They had crossed a line, stepped into a place neither had dared to tread before.

"I don't know what this is," she murmured, her voice husky.

Arthur leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "Neither do I," he said. "But I know I don't want to let it go."

And so, with the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through the window, they embraced the uncertainty, the thrill of the unknown. They had found something in each other that was more than just friendship or rivalry. It was a connection that defied logic, a bond forged in the fires of their shared pain and doubt.

As they sat there, holding each other tightly, Y/N felt the first stirrings of a love that had been buried beneath layers of contempt. It was a love that had been waiting for the right moment to emerge, a love that was as real and as raw as the music that filled Arthur's soul.

The future was uncertain, fraught with the potential for either heartbreak or a love that could surpass their wildest dreams. Yet, in that moment, all that mattered was the here and now. They decided to take it one day at a time, to build their relationship on a foundation of honesty and mutual respect.

The weeks that followed were filled with tentative smiles and gentle touches, as they both learned to navigate the new waters of their blossoming relationship. Y/N began to see Arthur not just as George's friend, but as a complex individual with his own fears and aspirations. She admired his dedication to his craft and the way he connected with his fans, bringing joy to the lives of so many.

Arthur, in turn, discovered the strength and resilience behind Y/N's sharp exterior. He saw the passion she brought to her work, the way she fought for what she believed in, even when the odds were stacked against her. Her ambition was no longer a source of irritation but a quality he found himself drawn to, a reminder that there was more to life than just his own small corner of the internet.

*****

Their first date was a simple walk along the South Bank, the Thames reflecting the soft glow of the setting sun. They talked about their hopes, their fears, and the moments that had shaped them into the people they were today. The conversation flowed as easily as the river beside them, and with each step, they grew closer.

Holding hands, they stumbled upon a small jazz club, the music spilling out onto the cobbled streets. Arthur looked at Y/N, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Dance with me?" he asked, leading her inside.

The intimate venue was crowded, but they found a spot near the stage. As the music swelled around them, they swayed together, lost in the rhythm and the warmth of their bodies. Y/N felt a sense of belonging she hadn't experienced in a long time, as though she had finally found a place where she truly fit.

Their relationship grew steadily, each moment revealing a new facet of the other. They discovered shared interests, like a love for obscure British sitcoms and a passion for long, meandering conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. The flat that had once been a battleground of snark and sarcasm now echoed with laughter and whispered secrets.

Yet, as much as they enjoyed their time together, the specter of their past remained. George, caught in the middle, watched with a mix of bewilderment and happiness as his sister and best friend grew closer. He knew the history of their animosity, the depth of the scars that still lingered beneath the surface.

One evening, as the three of them sat around Arthur's kitchen table, the tension grew thick. Y/N reached for Arthur's hand under the table, a silent plea for support. He squeezed it gently, a reminder that they were in this together.

"Look," Arthur said, breaking the silence. "We've all said things we regret. But we're trying to move forward. Can't we just… be happy for each other?"

George studied them, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. "I just want you two to be happy," he said. "But don't expect me to understand it."

Y/N and Arthur shared a look, a silent promise to navigate this new chapter with care. It was a step forward, a small but significant one. They knew they had a long way to go, but for now, they were content to simply enjoy the dance they had found themselves in.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23 @xxkatxgracexx @pookietv

#fluff #angst #british youtubers #imagines #george clarkey #arthur hill #arthur hill x reader #arthur x reader

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ro-is-struggling · 10 months

Text

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 2 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: All she wanted was to show Geralt that she could be part of his world, that it was worth putting in the effort to build a future together. He was her true home, the person she belonged to, the one who gave her life purpose, and all she wanted was to share the rest of her life with him. But things were not so simple and the differences that separated them were far too many.

Warnings: fem!reader, fluff, a bit of jealousy and sexual tension, banter, mentions of blood and canon typical violence, angst at the end, my poor knowledge of the saga probably

English is not my first language

Word count: 15.500

Notes: the part with the hirikka is definitely not there just cause I thought it was cute and I got pissed off when the dude killed it in that episode of season 1, nope, not at all…ALSO the show is not very clear with the whole signs thing so everything that I wrote about them is based off things I read about the games and my own imagination, so sorry if it’s wrong/not true to the story

READ PART 1 HERE

"I want to go with you."

The words escaped so casually from the young woman's lips that Geralt had to ask her to repeat them to make sure he had heard correctly. It was the middle of the night and he was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, feeling the exhaustion of the day weighing on his eyelids, but refusing to give in for some reason. He wasn't expecting to hear those words. In fact, he wasn't expecting to hear her speak at all since he thought she was still asleep, so her voice alarmed him.

"Go with me where?" The witcher mumbled his voice hoarse from sleep. His eyes opened to look at the princess resting beside him, tucked into his chest as her fingers nervously traced the lines of the scars on his chest.

"I don't know," she shrugged, still not returning his gaze. "Wherever you're heading next."

Geralt frowned slightly. They had known each other for quite some time. Since he had helped her escape from her family he had shown up countless times at her door, seeking the aid of her healing powers and, more importantly, her company. And in all that time she had never shown any kind of interest in what he did outside the walls of her home. She asked him questions, sure, and constantly scolded him for being "too irresponsible" —her words, not his—, but she had never expressed an interest in joining him on his travels.

That was kind of the point of their implicit agreement, so he didn't really mind that much. She was his secret helper, the motivation that drove him to do his job better. It was all worth it if at the end of a contract he was compensated according to his work and effort and, most importantly, if he had the chance to stop by her house to restore his energy. Geralt had always seen their relationship as sacred, a parallel world in which he could take refuge when things became too complicated or overwhelming. It was why he had never thought of taking her along on one of his trips. And it was also the reason for his surprise at that request.

"Why do you want to come with me?"

The young woman shrugged again and was silent for a moment as she tried to decide on what to answer. It wasn't that she didn't know —she was well aware of the motivations behind her words—, but rather that she wasn't sure if she should express them so openly out loud.

"That's not an answer, sunshine." Geralt pressed her and she let out a quiet snort.

"I want to explore the world, see what other options I have. I thought that this place was all I needed, but lately I've been questioning it." She finally said, glancing up to meet Geralt's eyes.

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Yes, in the last few months she had found herself questioning her decisions, wondering if perhaps the world had more to offer her. She was happy in her hut, living among nature, away from her family that had hurt her so much. And yet, she couldn't help but feel that she still hadn't found the true purpose of her life. She had managed to free herself from the oppressive clutches of her parents who wanted to impose on her a future she hated, and while that was an achievement in itself, she still couldn't imagine a clear future for herself. Well, actually she could, it just wasn't a very realistic future.

All she wanted was to be with Geralt.

It was something that took her time to accept, partly because she knew it wasn't a good idea. She knew that Geralt was a... complicated man, with an unconventional lifestyle. She also knew that they were almost complete opposites. He was a man of great experience, gained after living years on the continent, and she was a young runaway princess who had lived her entire life controlled by the desires and expectations of others, and only now had the ability to choose and control her destiny. He was cold, calculating, capable of remaining calm even when faced with the worst of dangers, and she was impulsive and sentimental, often feeling things ten times as strongly as the common person. He was quiet and reserved, and used to living a wandering life, while she was cheerful and sociable, and desperate to find a place to belong.

But despite all the things that set them apart, she couldn't help but feel a deep connection to him. And she couldn't ignore the happiness that came over her every time he showed up at her door or the loneliness that haunted her when he left. Her days were miserable when she was alone, her mind always finding a way to focus on him again. She spent her time wondering where he was and what he was doing, worrying about his safety and health. She often wondered if he was also thinking about her and if he missed her as much as she missed him.

Waiting for his return was an agony that became more difficult the more time they spent together. The more she got to know Geralt, the more she fell in love and the more it pained her to see him go. The few days he used to spend at her home were no longer enough for her. She wanted to be with him at all times, to learn more about his world, to join him in his adventures, to be more than a refuge away from his daily reality. She wanted to share her life with him, and for him to share his life with her.

"I thought you liked it here." Geralt's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"I do!" She was quick to reply. "I just... I'm not sure this is what I want for my future. I feel like there's a lot more out there for me to explore..." She trailed off, struggling to find the words to explain her feelings without revealing too much.

"And what makes you think that coming with me will help you find what you're looking for?" Geralt asked her and she shrugged again.

"It's a start. You travel all over the continent, what better way to explore the world than by being by your side?"

"I don't think it's a good idea, sunshine." The witcher sighed. Her eyes reflected the pain those words awakened in her and he felt horrible for saying them, but he knew it was for the best. The road, his way of life, was not meant for someone like her.

"Why not?" she murmured, barely containing the pout that was trying to form in her sad expression.

"Because it's too dangerous. I don't just travel the continent, I fight evil, dangerous creatures. I cant do my job if I'm worried about your safety."

"I'm not asking you to let me fight with you, I'm asking you to let me tag along and explore the world with you. I don't have to be near any kind of danger."

"Well, that's what Jaskier always says and he always gets dragged into danger."

"Would it help if I promised to keep my distance and always listen to you and follow your orders?" She looked at Geralt with an innocent face, batting her eyelashes and pouting to try to convince him. She looked so adorable that it was honestly hard for him to refuse her.

"He always says that too." He countered with a half smile that widened slightly at the sight of her annoyed frown. She always looked pretty when she was angry, that was the reason why most of the time he didn't listen to her scolding —he always got lost in her beauty.

"Why are you being so mean?" She accused him, sitting on the bed with her arms folded and a look of dismay.

"I'm not being mean, I'm being careful and protecting you."

"Well, did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t need your protection?"

Geralt was silent for a moment, admiring her face in the dim light. He knew he was exaggerating, that it was entirely possible for her to travel with him without anything bad happening to her. But it was also possible that things could go wrong and that alone was enough to bring up his fear of losing her. His work —and his life itself— was somewhat unpredictable at times. He didn't always choose when to confront evil creatures. Sometimes he crossed paths with one by pure coincidence and there was nothing he could have done to avoid it. He had a moral obligation to act in such situations, so danger always lurked, following in his footsteps closely, waiting for the most opportune moment to attack. Geralt was used to it, it was his daily reality, the only one he had ever known - since his life before his transformation was not even a distant memory in his mind.

But it was not her reality. She had lived in a castle for most of her life and was only now beginning to be completely independent. She was not prepared for the kind of danger that a witcher's life entailed. Her little knowledge of medicinal and healing magic could not protect her. And if he failed at that too... Geralt didn't even want to think about it.

"Maybe," he said, in a calm voice, "but I need to protect you... I need to know that you're alright."

Her gaze softened as a warm sensation ran through her body. The sincerity in his voice made her want to smile. He cared about her, about her safety and well-being. He needed her. He sought to protect her because he didn't want to lose her and that was reason enough for her heart to race and her eyes to fill with illusion.

"I know you do and I appreciate it." She spoke, voice soft and posture relaxed. She reached up to stroke his cheek, gently moving a lock of hair from his face so she could look into his eyes. Geralt leaned into her touch in an almost imperceptible movement, unable to resist the warm caress of her fingers. "Everything that I have, I owe it to you. You helped me be free and I trust you with my life, not just to protect me but to guide me... to help me find my way. There is really no other person I could ask for something like this... there is no one I trust more than I trust you."

And just like that, the discussion was over. All Geralt had to do was look into her eyes —those beautiful warm eyes that brought him so much comfort and happiness— and he lost all ability to fight. His own thoughts and worries were replaced by the need to make her happy. All he wanted was to see that sparkle in her eyes and know that he was the cause of it, the reason she was smiling. How could he refuse her requests when she looked at him with such illusion as she spoke those sweet words to him? He was willing to do anything to make her happy, even if it meant throwing caution to the wind.

"You have to promise that you will never leave my sight and that you will do what I say without question."

The young woman's face lit up immediately, a big smile playing across her lips as she looked at the witcher with wide open eyes. She looked like a child who had gotten her wish fulfilled. "Is that a yes?"

Geralt sighed with resignation and nodded his head. She let out a squeal of delight and rushed over to hug him as she repeated over and over how grateful and happy she was with his decision. A small, subtle smile tugged at his lips, feeling that comforting warmth run through his body as he breathed in the scent of her hair. He was worried about what might happen, but for the moment that didn't matter. All that mattered was the warmth of her body against his and the kiss she planted on his cheek as a thank you. She was happy and that made it all worth it.

"Just don't make me regret it." He warned her and she shook her head.

"I promise I'll be good. You won't regret this, Geralt."

Geralt wouldn't say he regretted his decision completely, but he couldn't say he was happy either. He had greatly underestimated how difficult it would be to travel with her getting distracted every time she saw a pretty bird fly overhead and complaining about the long journey that never seemed to end —she didn't seem to realize that her presence had a lot to do with the slowness of their journey. She wasn't holding up her end of the bargain completely either, which made Geralt worry more than usual about every step he took. While she listened to his directions and stayed in place when he instructed her to, she also took advantage of any moments of distraction —usually when he slept— to wander around the forest alone and without carrying a weapon to protect herself.

It wasn't all bad, though. Yes, she drove him mad with her songs to nature and her need to stop every time they came across a wounded animal, but Geralt couldn't deny that a part of him loved that about her. He loved seeing the smile that appeared on her face when a deer crossed her path or the sparkle in her eyes as she admired the sun setting over the river. There was an innocence in her attitude that captivated him. An amazement at the world around her that was so foreign to him, and yet so charming. After living so many years on the continent, he could not imagine experiencing such a fascination with the world. He admired it in a way, it reminded him of a time long ago, of a life he thought was buried in the darkness of his memory. It was part of her charm, part of the reason he couldn't seem to get away from her. She awakened the good in him, a light he thought he had lost after undergoing the mutations that turned him into the witcher he was today.

So, as much as he panicked every time she got too far away from him, he still wouldn't change a thing. Everything that made him groan in the daytime was worth it when she would curl up against him in front of the campfire at night, resting her head on his shoulder as she let the calm of the forest soothe her to sleep. It was actually embarrassing how much time Geralt spent admiring her beauty under the moonlight, watching her sleep peacefully curled up next to him as if she were the most beautiful piece of art he had ever seen. There was something about nature and the outdoors that awakened a special glow in her, a magnetic aura that kept him from taking his eyes off her. So he stayed awake at night longer than he should, watching her sleep while his mind was lost in thought.

She was the last thing he saw before falling asleep, the last thing he thought about and dreamed about. Every night Geralt would give her a kiss on the forehead before settling down beside her. It was quick and soft so as not to disturb her sleep, but he needed it to know that she was real, that someone so wonderful had decided to follow him in his dark and tumultuous life. Every night, the witcher went to sleep thinking about her, how lucky he was to have her by his side and how important she was to him. He thought of the dangers that surrounded him and silently wished that nothing bad would ever happen to her. That was one of the recurring nightmares he had, returning one night to her hut and not finding her there. The idea of her relationship with him being what would ultimately lead to her demise haunted him.

Not being there to protect her from the evils of the continent was one of his greatest worries. Losing her was his greatest fear. So when he opened his eyes in the morning and did not find her by his side he jumped up as panic began to take over his body. He called her name several times, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the forest, but he got no response other than the sound of fluttering birds fleeing in fear of the disturbance. Geralt was preparing to set out to hunt whatever it was that had taken her, when the wind brought the melodious sound of her voice to his ears. He followed it through the trees and bushes, feeling his nerves calm as he listened to her laughter. She wasn't in danger, she was just being careless, as usual.

"Geralt!" she exclaimed with a smile as she looked up to meet her companion's white hair sticking out among the green bushes. "Thank the gods that you are here, I need you to help me move him."

The witcher looked at her in confusion for a moment, until he looked down at her lap where a badly wounded creature rested. But it wasn't just any creature, it was a hirikka that looked at him with big yellow eyes full of terror. From the size of the beast, Geralt guessed it was just a puppy, and since it wasn't attacking anyone he assumed it was well fed —though his benevolence could very well be just the effect of the young princess on the creature since she tended to have a special relationship with animals. Still, it had been careless of her to approach the animal, especially while he slept. If the creature had been adult and hungry, it could have been very dangerous for her.

"Don't look at me like that," she said before Geralt could open his mouth. He didn't need to speak to let her know what he thought of her actions, she could read it in his face. "His cries of pain woke me up and I just couldn't leave him to suffer."

"So you walked away from the camp and tended to the wounds of a dangerous creature without bothering to even wake me up?"

"Oh he could never hurt me! Look at those big, adorable eyes! He wouldn't hurt a fly, would you baby?" she excused herself, petting the hirikka's head as if it were a dog.

"He could have hurt you if he was hungry." the witcher huffed, unable to believe he was having such a conversation.

"He's a baby, Geralt, and it's wounded. I'm pretty sure I can defend myself from a wounded animal."

"That's not the point. You risked your life wandering into the woods like that!"

"I'm fine!" She dismissed his concerns, completely oblivious to the panic that swept through him when he woke up without her by his side. "Now help me move him, we need to get him to the mountain."

"What?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but hirikkas usually live around the mountains, right?" Geralt nodded, already guessing where the young woman's argument was headed. "That means that this poor little thing is far from home. He probably came here for food and then got lost and wounded. We need to find his family so they can protect him."

"Hirikkas are a really rare species, what makes you think he even has a family in the first place?"

"Well, he's young he has to have someone taking care of him." She said as it was obvious causing Geralt to roll his eyes.

"We passed the mountains two days ago, we can't just go back to search for a group of creatures that may not even be there in the first place."

"We can't leave him here alone either, he will die! You said it yourself, hirikkas are a rare species, if someone finds him they're definitely going to kill him!"

"Sunshine, we can't…"

"Please! We don't even have to get him to the mountains, just close enough for his family to hear his cries." She looked up at him with glassy eyes and a pout on her lips. How could he refuse her wishes when she looked so adorable and vulnerable? It was a waste of time, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that. She was too pure, too good for this world.

He knew how much she cared for the animals, the urge she felt to help them. According to the things she had told him about her life, the woods surrounding her old home had been her refuge. She hid there to escape the orders and hurtful comments of her family, finding more support in the wild rabbits and deers than in the people who lived in her castle. It was also the place where she had discovered her magical healing skills and the only place where she tended to use them. She had a deep connection with nature and Geralt knew there would be no convincing her to leave the animal alone to its fate.

"We'd have to backtrack two days of travel." He tried to reason with her, a last resort to see if he could get her to change her mind.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to, just help me load him on the horse and I'll go by myself. You can go to the village and wait for me there."

"I'm not leaving you out here alone!" Geralt firmly stated. Then he let out a sigh of defeat. "You stay here, I'll go find Roach."

He made his way back to Roach mumbling to himself, unable to believe he had agreed to waste time backtracking his steps to help an injured animal. It was sad, yes, but normally he wouldn't stop for it. It's the law of nature. You are born, you grow, you reproduce and eventually you die. There was no point in worrying about things that were out of one's control.

But she cared. Even if it was an animal that inspired terror in most people. Even if it was a small, insignificant creature that no one would miss, she would. She still talked about the rodent she once rescued from the clutches of a hungry owl as if it was one of the greatest accomplishments of her life. She cared about everyone, even when no one seemed to care about her —her family had stopped looking for her long ago and her subjects had not been saddened by the news. She cared, and that was enough for him to care too.

"What am I doing?" muttered Geralt to himself as he adjusted the horse's saddle. "Wasting days of travel just for a wounded animal." Roach snorted, shaking her head and tugging at the reins in the witcher's hands. He took a moment to pet the animal, letting out an airy chuckle. "I know, I know, she's worth it." He added before setting off down the path to where she stood waiting for him. She had won yet again.

“Oh stop being so grumpy! It wasn’t that bad.” She exclaimed, playfully nudging at his shoulder in an attempt to get a smile out of the witcher. He had been silent for hours now, communicating with her through grunts and frowns. Sure, the rain that had caught them in the middle of their journey wasn't ideal, but at least they were close to town when the first drops began to fall from the sky. "For a person who lives on the road, you don't seem too used to riding in a little rain."

"I am, I just find it annoying when we weren't supposed to be out in the rain in the first place." Geralt grumbled and she smiled, happy that he was back to communicating verbally.

"You don't know that, something else could have slowed us down along the way."

"Yes, probably another wounded animal." he mumbled to himself, though she heard him anyway and gave him a punch in the shoulder that probably hurt her more than it hurt him.

"We saved a vulnerable creature from a terrible fate, you should be proud of that!" She insisted, pushing open the doors of the inn where they had stopped for shelter.

The warmth from the interior suddenly hit her, embracing her wet skin and making her realize how cold she really was. The cloak she'd worn to protect herself from the water didn't do much given the force of the storm, but she would never admit that to Geralt - to do so would mean agreeing with him and she wasn't about to do that, not in that at least. The inn's common room was full of people, some wet and tired like them, others dancing and singing, no doubt after having had a few too many drinks. There was a fireplace in the center of the room that provided warmth and illumination. Her eyes were lost in the glowing flames for a moment, wishing she could get closer to the fire to keep the cold from chilling her bones. But she gave Geralt a quick glance and knew she couldn't do that, not without him smiling victoriously at her. So instead she decided to approach who seemed to be the owner of the place to get a room.

"You stay here, he's not going to give us a room if he sees that look on your face." she said, disappearing into the sea of people before Geralt could defend himself against her comment —although he was fairly certain she had a point.

The inn owner seemed to be a kind man, though he looked overwhelmed with the number of visitors he was receiving. Apparently the storm had brought with it more people than usually passed through those roads and the man and his helpers struggled to accommodate them all. He was running from place to place, checking the available rooms at every turn and chasing after his workers to escort people to their quarters. The waitresses were also overworked, navigating the crowds of people to bring jars of beer and plates of warm food to the tables full of cold people. Taking a closer look at the state of the place made her begin to fear that she might not find an available room. She had no idea how far it would be to the next inn, but even if it was a couple of feet away, it would be too far for the heavy rain falling from the sky. If they had to go out and get wet again, she would have to put up with Geralt's scowl for the rest of the night and as cute as he looked when he was angry, she didn't feel like listening to his complaints.

“Letha! Could you please check if room ten is still available?” The man shouted, calling out to his maid, when she asked if they still had any rooms available. "I'm sorry, it'll just be a moment."

"Busy night, huh?" She tried to make small talk, finding the silence too uncomfortable to bear.

"Yeah, it's a miracle! I haven't had the place this crowded in a long time."

"Why not? It's a beautiful place."

"There have been strange happenings going on in this part of town that affected businesses like mine." The man explained with some sadness and insecurity in his voice. It was subtle, but enough to peak his curiosity. So she continued to question him in hopes that he would share more of that mystery with her.

"There have been strange disappearances, people vanishing into thin air leaving almost no trace of their passage through these lands. At first they were just travelers, so no one really noticed or cared, myself included. Until it started to happen a lot more frequently. Every couple of days someone would find some traveler's belongings scattered along the road leading out of town, but no trace of the person. Eventually word spread and travelers stopped using this road to come into town and both my business and neighboring ones were severely affected."

"Do you know what it is that is causing these disappearances? Do you have any theories?"

"People say the road is cursed, I've heard people talk about an evil witch and others claim it's a punishment from the gods, but no one knows what's really going on. The rest of the town doesn't believe us much either, so the mayor doesn't do anything about it."

"He's going to pay for that mistake," a waitress interrupted the conversation, leaving the empty tray on the counter as she leaned over the wood to join the conversation. "It's getting worse. Now that there's no more travelers, people from the town are starting to disappear. If he doesn't believe us now, he will soon."

The young princess wanted to continue investigating, but before she could ask about the recent disappearances, the maid returned to tell her that room ten was ready for use. She thanked her and paid for the night using the money she had earned selling her goods at the fair in the village where she lived. It was her way of compensating Geralt for the inconvenience caused without having to admit to his face that he was right.

"We have a room for the night, can you please change your attitude now?" She announced when she returned to him.

Despite her request, Geralt's frown became more prominent. Only this time his eyes were not on her, but on something that had caught his attention over her shoulder. She looked at him with a strange look on her eyes, but before she could ask him what it was that was bothering him now, she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she met the face of a curly-haired man that had the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen. He was cute, she thought, so she offered him a smile.

He introduced himself as Arlan, not wasting a second before showing his true intentions as he made a subtle bow while kissing the back of her hand in a flirtatious manner. He mentioned something about her beauty - how he had noticed her as soon as she walked through the doors since she lit up the room with her smile or something like that - a corny line, but one that could have been effective were it not for the fact that her heart already belonged to someone else. The man invited her to dine with him in a very respectful manner, and a part of her was tempted to accept his offer. After all, she wasn't used to receiving that kind of attention. But before she could utter a sound, Geralt cleared his throat behind her back to make himself noticed.

"She can't, she's busy. Goodbye." He answered for her in a much more serious and intimidating tone than usual. He fixed his gaze on the man, looking at him with that intimidating look he gave when he wanted to make sure no one bothered him. His yellow eyes flared with anger, his brow furrowed in annoyance. It didn't take long before the man fled in fright, muttering something about rescheduling for another time with no real conviction in his voice.

"Geralt!" the young woman turned to deliver a punch on his shoulder. "That wasn't very nice of you! Why did you do that?"

"He was being annoying, so I made him leave."

"No he wasn't, he was being nice and polite." She crossed her arms, looking at the witcher with confusion. She had never seen him act like this before. Grumpy and bitter, sure, hundreds of times, but there was something different about the way he reacted. He had been too quick to dismiss the man, speaking through gritted teeth as if he was holding back the urge to separate his head from his neck. It made no sense, the poor guy was just flirting with her, no reason to spark such a reaction from Geralt.

Unless...

"Is that jealousy I detect in those intimidating yellow eyes?" She laughed and Geralt let out a snort. "Are you jealous? Were you afraid I was going to leave you for him?" She was partially joking, taking the opportunity to tease him and see if she could get a smile out of him, but she couldn't deny that the mere possibility of that being true made her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

"I'm not jealous, I'm protecting you from a bastard that wants nothing more than to defile your honor."

"He didn't seem like a bastard to me."

"We were outside in the pouring rain, sunshine. You're soaking wet and your clothes stick to your body leaving nothing to the imagination. That's all he saw when you walked into the room, not your smile or whatever lie he told."

Geralt didn't want to sound mean, but the truth was that she could be very innocent at times. She was unaware of the effect she had on others, especially when it came to physical attraction. Geralt saw the way men looked at her and didn't like it one bit. But she didn't usually notice those details, which made him want to protect her even more.

She wanted to scold him, but he gave her no chance as he took her by the arm and dragged her through the crowd to their room. The moment the door closed behind them, Geralt instructed her to take off her wet clothes before she got sick. She let out a giggle as she took off her wet cloak, telling him that he should at least invite her to eat before asking her to do something like that.

"I mean, at least Arlan was willing to do that." She joked and Geralt gave her an unamused look.

"You know what I meant."

"Yes, and I just made a joke. Lighten up a bit! You know it won't kill you to smile, right?" The witcher replied by tossing her the bag with the extra clothes she had brought, giving her a last glance before starting to change himself.

The young princess's eyes admired his naked torso for longer than was appropriate. She was used to seeing him like this, but she could never get used to the tingling in her stomach when she noticed the way the muscles in his back and arms flexed when he moved. It left her completely stupid for a few seconds, mind malfunctioning as the images of his body occupied the full capacity of her thoughts. She noticed the water droplets sliding down his skin, traveling down his scars until they disappeared at the line of his pants. That gave her the urge to reach out to touch him, to trace those lines with her own fingers, but the sound of Geralt clearing his throat brought her out of her trance.

With her face burning with embarrassment, the young woman blurted out a quick comment about how well the last wound she had treated was healing. It was a stupid excuse and not at all believable, but it was better than admitting that she lost her mind every time he took off his shirt. He knew she was lying. She knew he knew she was lying. But she didn't give him time to react, grabbing her clothes and disappearing for a much needed bath.

Geralt stood alone in the room, staring at the wood of the door with a small smile plastered on his face. She looked adorable when she was flustered and he was proud to be the reason behind it. It was a kind of vindication that put his jealousy to rest after having to endure the audacity of that man and her teasing in response. The unspoken thing they shared wasn't just in his head. She only had eyes for him, just as he only had eyes for her.

It was rather twisted of him to want her so much when he knew he couldn't –or rather, shouldn't— have her. Geralt knew that nothing good could come from him following his feelings. They were not meant to be together, they were far too different, with far too opposite lives. He would only end up hurting her either physically, putting her life at risk because of his profession, or emotionally, when reality would explode the fantasy bubble and force them to face it. He was not meant to settle down in one place and live a calm and happy life. Maybe at some point in the distant past he was, long before he went through the mutation process that had turned him into the witcher he was now. But he had accepted long ago that that life, the possibilities and paths he could have taken, had died the moment the mutations began to change his body. It made no sense to duel in the past, to fight against nature to force something that was impossible. It was a waste of time and energy.

Geralt had lived by that principle most of his life. However, when it came to her he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he decided to stay, if he left everything behind to follow his heart. Intoxicated by the scent of her hair and enraptured by the sound of her laughter it was easy to lose himself in the fantasy that they had a future together, that their relationship could be more than fleeting visits and late night escapes to avoid facing the reality of the mornings. He would have to be extra careful on this trip, control his emotions so as not to give in to the fantasy.

By the time she returned, Geralt was waiting for her with a tray of food resting on the small table in the center of the room. There were two plates of steaming stew, some bread, and two jars of ale. She smiled at the gesture, feeling warmth spreading through her body from her stomach as she approached Geralt.

"What is this?" She asked him, sitting down in the free chair to better inspect the food.

"I thought we'd be more comfortable eating here, away from all the noise and the people walking around." He explained as he brought the jar of beer to his mouth. She looked at him for a moment, studying his face with her eyes before letting out a chuckle. "What?"

"You really don't want me around that man, huh?" He looked at her, but didn't answer, though she didn't need him to know the answer to her question. "It's a shame because now we won't get to hear the stories about this place and the details about the job I found for you."

"What job?"

She smiled at his curiosity and proceeded to tell him what little she had managed to get out of the inn owner about the strange disappearances threatening the village. They discussed the details as they ate, debating whether there would be any veracity to the man's claims or if they were all bullshit. She felt proud of herself for having been the one to discover the problem, happy to be able to show Geralt that her presence was not completely useless.

She could get used to his life, be more than his healer. She needed some time to get used to his rhythms, but she could be useful. She could get used to anything to be by his side, to share more than a couple of days with him and then miss him for months. If this trip had proven anything, it was that no matter where they were, she would always feel at home if Geralt was by her side. He was her true home, the place where she belonged. She had been going mad looking for her purpose, her place in the world, when in reality she had already found it. It was to be by Geralt's side, to heal him and protect him from all evil. He was the piece she was missing, the only one capable of filling the emptiness that weighed her down. She wanted to be with him, she needed him to feel complete, and she was willing to do anything to show Geralt that a future together was possible, that she could adapt to live in his world.

Another disappearance occurred that same night while the town slept, but no one heard about it until the next morning, after the storm had passed. Geralt spent the day listening to the stories and opinions of anyone willing to speak on the subject, which, honestly, were more than he expected. Having his sweet princess by his side helped people open up to him. Normally he used to appear too intimidating, but with her by his side everything was easier. She was so kind and caring when talking to people that no one could refuse to answer her questions. Geralt found it comforting to know that he was not the only one unable to resist her charms.

They were talking to a waitress about the rumors she had heard when a woman entered the inn. She immediately caught Geralt's attention because she looked visibly distressed. Her voice was muffled and in her trembling hands she held a cloth handkerchief that she used to wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Apparently she knew the owner of the inn because she asked to speak to him personally and burst into tears in his arms when the answer to her question was negative. Geralt gestured to the young princess and they approached them to find out if the woman's grief had anything to do with their little investigation.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" She said in a soft tone so as not to upset the poor woman even more.

"Her son is missing." The innkeeper explained to them as he tried to calm the woman's desperate crying with gentle caresses on her back. "He went out last night and never came back home. She's been asking around town and nobody has seen him."

"Is it possible that he got lost in the storm?" Geralt asked and the man shook his head, assuring him that the young man was a skilled traveler and tracker who knew the town like the back of his hand.

"It was her! I told him it wasn't wise to go out... let someone else take care of her... but he didn't listen." The woman spoke between sobs emerging from the innkeeper's arms to wipe her tears with her handkerchief.

"I'm sorry, her? There was a woman?" The princess asked and the woman nodded her head. She then proceeded to tell them about her son's last moments.

Apparently he was sheltering their farm animals from the storm when he noticed a young woman standing in the rain. She had long, jet black hair that clung to her pale skin from the water. Her dress was dirty and had the edges of the skirt in shreds, as if she had been running through the forest and the fabric had been torn by branches and bushes. She looked lost and out of place, so the young man felt the need to help her. Her mother had objected to him inviting her to spend the night at their house, acting cautiously since rumors of the mysterious disappearances had only grown in recent months. So the young man told her that he would just make sure she was all right and accompany her to an inn for the night. She watched them disappear into the darkness from her kitchen window and that was the last contact she had with her son.

"I knew something was wrong." The woman sobbed. "She was just standing there in the rain, like she was waiting for someone to pass by and fall for her trap. I should have stopped him, I should have done more." The princess patted her shoulder in support, trying to do something to make the woman feel better —even though she knew nothing she could do or say would ease the pain of a mother worried about her child.

"You are a witcher, isn't there something that you can do?" The innkeeper asked and the woman looked at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. It was clear that she was so distressed that she had not been able to recognize the clear details that indicated that the big, strong man in front of her was not an ordinary human.

"I don't have much, but I can talk to my neighbors, the other people affected by this creature, everybody who believes it's a threat to the town and find a way to pay for your service... anything to find my boy and make sure this doesn't happen again."

Geralt named his price before the woman ran out of there to round up her neighbors, though he would have taken care of the problem even if they didn't pay him for his services. He then set out to walk through the town, visiting some of the places that had been mentioned by the locals in search of evidence, though he had a good idea what it was that was haunting the locals. The princess followed him closely, remaining surprisingly silent for a long time. She wanted to give him space to work, to let him concentrate and do whatever it was he needed to do to help the villagers. But after spending several minutes in silence, she could no longer contain her curiosity.

"So, what do you think?" She eventually asked him as they walked down the road where most of the disappearances had occurred, just outside of town. "Any theories about what this thing is?"

"For what they describe, I'm almost certain it is a Bruxa." The witcher replied, leaning over the ground to inspect possible footprints. "And it has to have a refugee nearby."

"A Bruxa?" She repeated with a slight frown of confusion. She had never heard that term before. Truth be told, she had never heard of most of the creatures Geralt told her about. Her kingdom was small, quiet, they didn't usually have attacks from beasts of that nature. And if they did, her parents didn't tell her about it. In her kingdom magic and everything related to it were frowned upon, hence she had learned about her abilities from a servant girl who taught her in secret from everyone. From what she understood, magic ran in the family's blood —although it tended to skip generations—, but it had always brought trouble and misfortune, so it had been forbidden in the kingdom, leaving her completely alienated and unaware of the best stories and legends the continent had to offer.

"It's a type of vampire, very powerful, that usually takes the form of a dark haired young woman to lure people into its trap."

"So you know how to kill it? I mean, of course you know how to kill it, what am I saying!"

Geralt bit back a smile. "Silver does the trick, but we need to find it first."

He explained that they usually lived away from large conglomerations of people as a form of protection, but the fact that she always attacked on the same road made him think that she must be taking refuge nearby. So they wandered through the forest surrounding the road to the village, looking for any sign that might indicate the bruxa's whereabouts. But the creature was clever, it knew how to cover its tracks, so they spent most of the day walking around and only found a couple of drops of blood and drag marks that led them nowhere. Suddenly, the princess understood how she had managed to go unnoticed for so long. If she hadn't talked to the locals and listened to the sobs of that desperate mother, she wouldn't believe that anything out of the ordinary was going on there.

"I think we are not being smart about this." She broke the silence as her patience began to wear thin. "We are never going to find her like this."

"What do you suggest we do?" Geralt inquired, partially intrigued by whatever it was she had in mind. It was interesting for him to work with her. Usually he did things alone, but her naive curiosity and sweet kindness provided a different look that changed his usual patterns.

"We know she's going to attack again, right? So we just have to make sure we are there next time to stop her."

"We can't predict who she will stack next."

"No, but we can lure her out of hiding... bring the food out here to her to tempt her and hopefully force her to make a mistake."

"So, you're saying we should use someone as bait?" Geralt looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't surprised by her words, she didn't seem like the type of person who was willing to put others at risk for a greater good. Granted, he was going to be there the whole time and wouldn't let anything bad happen, but still, he couldn't believe that idea had come from the same young woman who had made him backtrack days of travel to help an injured animal find his family.

"Not someone. Me." She said almost casually, preparing to meet the witcher's firm refusal. He looked at her for a moment, thinking she was playing some kind of joke on him that he didn't find funny. But when he saw the determination in her eyes he had to intervene.

"Absolutely not! It's too dangerous." His tone was serious as was his gaze, a way of letting her know that this time he would not give in.

"What other choice do we have? Wait for it to kill someone else? Wander aimlessly around the woods for eternity?" She tried to reason with him. They had been walking around there for hours without much success and, while this was not something she did often, she suspected that things would not improve even if they kept looking. The bruxa was smart and wasn't going to let herself be found easily. Waiting for her to attack again was not an option either. Geralt was just one man and there was too much ground to cover. And there was no way to predict who her next victim would be. If they wanted to end this quickly they would have to force her out of hiding.

"I'm not using you as bait, sunshine." Geralt growled.

"Well, we can't risk the lives of the people in town and you can't be the bait either because she will know what you are. I don't see any other option, Geralt."

"I'm not going to risk your life for this, forget it."

"My life would not be at risk, not with you there. I trust you, probably more than I should." She tried to joke to ease the tension in the air, but Geralt did not laugh. His eyes softened, however, touched by her faith in him. It warmed his heart to notice the admiration in her eyes, the way she looked at him as if she was sure he could handle anything. It meant a lot to him that she trusted him with her life, but he couldn't help thinking that part of her did it because she was too innocent and unaware of the real risks his profession entailed. That was the only way she could be volunteering for such a task.

"Sunshine..." Geralt's voice became softer, a subtle plea for her to reconsider her stance.

"I want to do it. I want to help you... I want to help the people in town." She bit her tongue to keep from blurting out what she really wanted to say. More than anything else, she wanted to prove herself and show Geralt that his life was not incompatible with hers. Maybe she would need some training, but there was a place for her in Geralt's world. She knew it now and hoped she could prove it to him.

Geralt looked at her and once again knew he couldn't refuse her. He hated the way she was able to convince him of anything with a simple look. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes and he would fall surrendered at her feet, willing to do anything she wanted.

"If we're going to do this, I need you to promise me that you'll listen to everything I say." the witcher sighed, defeated. "And I mean it this time. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. Is that clear?" She nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. Several times in the past she had promised the same thing and failed to deliver. He needed to make sure she understood the gravity of the situation. "I mean it, sunshine, there is no room for error in this."

The young princess then took one of Geralt's hands between her own. He was much larger than she was so that she had to use both of her hands in order to completely envelop one of his. She gave it a light squeeze and looking into his eyes as she said, "I promise to follow your every order this time."

It wasn't enough to loosen the knot that had formed in the witcher's stomach, but it was a start.

She lost count of how many times she had tossed and turned in bed since she went to sleep. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow, so Geralt decided it would be best to get a good night's sleep. She had agreed with him, especially since she felt tired after the long walk through the forest they had taken. But the moment her head hit the pillow, sleep disappeared from her body. She still felt tired —the muscles in her legs complained from the exercise and her eyelids were heavy as if she hadn't blinked for hours—, yet she was unable to fall asleep. It was as if her own mind was refusing to rest, seeking to punish her for who knows what.

She was surprised that Geralt hadn't complained about her restlessness already. He was a light sleeper and usually the slightest movement would wake him up. Several times in the past she had earned grunts of annoyance and even forced hugs for her inability to sit still, but when she turned once more to look at him she noticed that he had his eyes closed and his breathing was relaxed. She could see half of his face thanks to the moonlight coming through the window, illuminating his features and making him look softer than usual. She always loved to watch him sleep. There were not many occasions when she had the opportunity to do so since she was always the one who fell asleep first. But on the rare occasions when he did fall asleep first, she loved to admire him in silence as he rested. There was something so special and intimate about it-the way his chest moved up and down with his soft breathing, how his features relaxed completely beneath the unruly strands of white hair that clung to his face-she simply couldn't take her eyes off him.

It usually brought her peace to see him sleeping so peacefully. She fought the heaviness of her eyelids as much as she could, wanting to take advantage of every second of those moments to admire his beauty in a way she couldn't when he was awake, but eventually sleep always got the better of her. Just looking at him being so comfortable and relaxed next to her was enough to silence any voice in her mind that deprived her of her sleep. So she turned her attention back to the man lying to her left in the hope that it would help her sleep as it always did. She ran her eyes over his face, admiring the way his eyelashes almost caressed his cheeks, tracing the shape of his nose and cheek bone. Down his defined jawline to his neck and then she became distracted by the scars that adorned his body. She had them memorized after healing his wounds for so long, to the point that she didn't need the moonlight to fully shine on his chest to locate them on his skin. Even in the dark she could visualize them in her mind.

Her eyes focused on the scar that adorned his collarbone. A long, thin line was all that remained of the deep cut she had had to heal. Her finger traced the textured skin as her mind was lost in the memories of that night. It wasn't the worst state he had been in when he had shown up at her door, but still his wounds were quite deep. She had first had to clean the blood that covered his chest in order to find them all.

She liked Geralt's scars. Not only were they a part of him that she couldn't picture him without, but they were also a physical representation of his history. He carried imprinted on his skin the moments they had shared together, an indelible sign that marked her passage through the witcher's life. And every time she saw them, she couldn't help but remember those moments.

“You can't sleep either, huh?” Geralt's hoarse voice took her by surprise, snapping her out of her thoughts. When she looked up she met the witcher's amber eyes watching her curiously. A cheeky smile formed on his lips as he noticed her embarrassment at being caught in that position. She removed her hand from his chest as if his skin was burning her fingers, feeling the blood from his body travel up to pool in her cheeks. Geralt had to restrain the urge to put her hand back where it was, already missing the gentle caress of her fingers on his skin.

"No." She replied in a small voice, refusing to look up to meet his face.

There were a few seconds of silence before Geralt spoke again. "Are you scared for tomorrow?"

"I don't know if scared would be exactly the word I would use, but certainly nervous. I guess, I don't really know what to expect and that makes me feel weird... but I want to do it, so you can't convince me otherwise." she hurried to say to make sure Geralt knew she was strong and determined.

The witcher sighed and there was another moment of silence before she worked up the courage to speak again, this time looking up to meet his eyes. "Are you? Scared, I mean."

“I suppose it worries me that you may get hurt in the fight.”

"Well, don't be. Everything will be fine, you are going to kill the bruxa and nothing bad will happen to me or the people in town." She tried to reassure him, giving him a small smile. Geralt appreciated the gesture, but wished things were that simple.

"It's not as simple as that." He sighed, reaching up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face so he could get a good look at her in the dim moonlight. "Things can escalate really quickly and go wrong... I'm not invincible, sunshine. It happened to me before and it cost the life of a princess too."

A sudden sadness came into Geralt's eyes. He was looking at her, but it was as if he was looking right through her as he got lost in thought. She wondered what kind of memories were flooding his mind. He never told her about that story and she couldn't help but be curious. She wanted to ask him if he wanted to talk about it, but regretted it at the last minute, choosing to comfort him rather than question him.

"I'm not completely useless, you know? Back at the castle they taught me to defend myself."

"Not from these creatures, sunshine." She could sense the concern in his voice. It warmed her heart to know that he cared so much about her. It almost made her want to give up, just to bring some peace to his troubled mind. But she couldn't, she had to prove herself, prove she could do it.

Reaching out, she let her fingers trace the line of his cheek bone. Geralt closed his eyes momentarily, enjoying the warmth of her caress. Then he rested his own hand on top of hers, trapping it in place so she couldn't pull it away. He needed that. He needed to feel her, her warmth, her affection, it helped him silence his thoughts.

"Would it help quiet your mind if you taught me some tricks to protect myself?" She asked him in a soft voice. "I'm a fast learner."

"Well, I suppose I could teach you about the signs. You have an aptitude for magic, so I'm certain that you will be able to conjure them."

Geralt slipped her hand from his cheek, but kept his hand on hers at all times as he briefly explained what the signs were and the uses they had. She listened carefully to every word, admiring the way his lips moved as he spoke. She loved when he told her stories of his adventures or explained details about his world, not only because she found his deep, monotone voice incredibly soothing, but also because it made her feel closer to him.

"I think the best ones to teach you right now are Aard and Quen. They are probably the most useful ones for protecting you from this particular creature." He explained, raising the young woman's hand in the air. "The form and position of your hand is very important when casting a sign. For Aard you have to have your fingers like this."

He pressed his palm against the back of her hand, positioning his fingers over hers. Slowly he bent her middle finger downward, leaving the other four aligned upward. The young woman couldn't help but notice the way Geralt's hand completely covered hers, making her feel smaller than normal next to him. The warmth of his skin felt good, comforting, it made her wish he would never move his hand away from her. She would live holding his hand if that were humanly possible. There was something about feeling his skin against hers that awakened a comforting warmth that spread throughout her entire body. It made her feel comfortable, at peace.

When she looked up, she found that Geralt's eyes were fixed on her face. The blood rushed to her cheeks once again, somehow feeling vulnerable under his watchful gaze. But she detected in them a special glow that let her know he felt the same peace in having their hands intertwined. And that put a small smile on her lips.

"This sign channels the energy of the air, so when you cast it you should focus on that... feel the air around you, how it flows, the way it makes the tree tops shake and your hair dance around you..." Geralt's voice gradually faded to a hoarse whisper. Instinctively he moved a little closer to her, their faces mere inches apart as he lost himself in images of her walking through the forest with a smile as her hair danced in the wind. His eyes fell to her lips and he felt the urge to kiss her. They looked so soft and inviting, so appetizing, as if they had been created just for him to kiss. But before he could act on his urges, her voice snapped him out of his trance, bringing him suddenly back to reality.

"What's the next one like?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper. It was as if she felt sorry for ruining the moment, as if she felt compelled by the tension in the air to say something, but she really didn't want him to hear her.

Geralt cleared his throat before replying. "Quen is a protective sign, it can create a protective shield around you so I'd suggest you learn this one well. To cast it you need to bend your pinky finger, like this." He changed the position of his hand along with hers, helping her with his finger to bend her pinky.

"Can I try?" She sat on the bed to make herself more comfortable and Geralt followed. He placed his hand back on hers and guided her through the summoning process.

"Focus on your surroundings." He whispered in her ear, making her shiver.

Concentrating was harder than it seemed when she could feel the heat his body emanated and every breath he took. It collided against the sensitive skin of her neck, making the baby hairs on the back of her head stand up. Geralt had to know the effect his closeness had on her. She was pretty sure the entire inn could hear the way her heart was pounding rapidly, crashing violently against her chest. He knew and he was doing it on purpose, she was convinced of that.

"Close your eyes and visualize a shield of energy around you." He continued speaking as if nothing was happening. She listened to him, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but it was almost impossible. Especially when she could feel Geralt's lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

Then she felt a spark, a current of energy shooting from the joining of their hands. She flinched and opened her eyes, taking a moment to admire their hands before looking at Geralt to see if he had felt the same thing she had.

"You almost got it." He encouraged her. "Focus, sunshine, come on."

She took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders before trying the conjuring again. This time she didn't seek to push the feelings that Geralt's proximity aroused in her. On the contrary, she used them. He was the only thing that mattered to her in that room, the only thing that existed besides her. He was her world, so why not concentrate on him? She let the warmth of his body envelop her, let the scent of leather and wet dirt that was characteristic of him assault her nostrils. She concentrated on the harmonious depth of his voice, letting the baritone sound travel through her ears and through her body.

She felt the spark once again, only it was much stronger this time. Her hand tingled and then she felt a rush of warmth shoot out of her. When she opened her eyes she found a layer of translucent white energy enveloping her and Geralt. It lasted only a few seconds because she broke her concentration, feeling incredibly proud of herself for successfully summoning the signal on her second attempt. It wasn't necessarily a big deal, but ever since she was a child she had grown accustomed to hearing that she was clumsy and useless and couldn't do anything right, so she had gotten into the habit of celebrating even her smallest accomplishments.

"I did it!" The princess exclaimed with a smile, throwing herself into Geralt's arms. Her embrace took him by surprise, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against his chest. He allowed himself to get lost in the warmth of her body for a moment, enjoying the floral scent of her hair as he tried to burn every detail of that moment into his memory.

"Give me a couple of training sessions and I could take your job." She joked, exaggerating her merit, and earning a small smile from Geralt.

The plan was simple. The princess would pose as a lost traveler looking for directions in the hopes that her apparent vulnerability would force the bruxa to come out of hiding. Geralt would be following her closely, hiding among the trees and bushes so as not to draw attention to himself. Once the fight broke out, she was under strict orders to run to Roach and take cover in a safe area where he had marked the Yrden sign on a tree. If they were lucky he would manage to draw the creature's attention to him long enough for her to escape. He doubted it would follow her after that, the bruxa seemed to be too clever to risk entering an area protected by Yrden just to catch a girl.

Even though the creature usually preferred to hunt men —probably because they were easier to trick—, it didn't take long for it to appear on the trail just where the villagers said it would. It happened in the blink of an eye, and without much sign of its presence other than the sound of branches and leaves rustling near them. The princess was on edge, hyper-aware of every little noise she heard and every movement her eyes could see in the dim moonlight. She jumped in place when she heard the sound of a branch snapping, and turned to look for the source of the sound. She scanned the darkness with her eyes as best she could, but found nothing suspicious, so she returned her gaze to the front.

That's when she saw her.

She was tall and slender, with skin that looked like porcelain. Her long black hair hid her face, though she could feel her intense gaze locked on her. She was standing in front of her, separated by just a couple of inches, and the princess had no idea where she had come from.

She struggled to keep her breathing at a normal level as she spoke explaining her situation to it, hoping it wouldn't be able to hear the rapid beating of her heart or detect the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The last thing she wanted was for the bruxa to discover the trap because of her poor acting skills.

"Oh, I'm sorry that happened to you." The creature said with faked empathy, taking the princess by the hand. She thought about pulling free from its grip, but decided against it at the last moment, thinking it would be too obvious. Geralt was close by and she trusted him completely. "The village is far, you are not going to get there by foot until tomorrow morning."

The bruxa was lying. Her favorite place to hunt wasn't that far from the village and while it might be annoying to walk the distance, it was probably a two hour walk at most. The princess wondered how many poor travelers would have fallen into that trap, believing her words without knowing that in reality salvation was much closer.

"You look tired." The bruxa affirmed and to the princess's surprise, she began to feel the weight on her eyelids and tired body. "I have a place nearby, you can spend the night there and tomorrow you can continue your travel. There's food and a warm bed for you to sleep in."

She was neither tired nor hungry, but the black-haired woman's words sounded tempting. She almost had to fight the urge to accept her proposal, even though she knew that nothing but death awaited her there. The creature was probably using its charms on her, enchanting her into agreeing to go with it without making a scene and attracting the attention of the villagers. She knew it and yet she couldn't resist. If it wasn't for Geralt appearing at that precise moment, she didn't know what would have become of her.

"Run!" was all the witcher said to her as he separated her from the bruxa. His eyes were completely black and his skin was much paler than usual. She had seen him fight before, but never while in his full witcher form. It caught her off guard but she managed to pull herself together quickly enough to get away from the area before the fight really started.

She heard the echoes of the bruxa's screams as she ran. They were deafening and she honestly couldn't believe how Geralt managed to endure them at such close proximity. She had to make the effort not to look back, knowing that if she saw what was happening she wouldn't be able to resist the urge to go over and help him. When she reached Roach she noticed the mare was upset, neighing and whinnying as if she could feel the tension in the air and the fear the princess felt.

"Shh, shh, it's fine! Everything is going to be okay." She tried to calm her down, stroking her soft fur as she watched the fight unfold a few feet away. "Geralt has it under control."

Every word of encouragement she blurted out for Roach, was a word of encouragement for her as well. She knew that Geralt was a very experienced witcher who had probably fought and killed many beasts equally or more dangerous than that bruxa even before she was born, but she couldn't help but worry for his life as she watched the battle. The creature was fast and precise with its attacks, using its scream to stun Geralt whenever it was at a disadvantage. He was able to hurt her a couple of times, but it was nothing lethal so he only managed to infuriate her. And even though she was bleeding even more than he was, that didn't make it any easier to see him get thrown into the air by the bruxa's deafening scream.

In the midst of the battle, the bruxa tried to flee. It changed its human form, transforming into something that the princess could only describe as a bat, only much larger and more horrifying. It spread its long wings and lifted off, escaping from Geralt's clutches just in time. But it didn't disappear for long, as a few seconds later it flew towards him once again, swooping down like a bird determined to catch its prey. Geralt braced himself for the attack and almost succeeded in striking it in the torso with the silver sword. But at the last moment the creature flew up, circled in the air and descended again on the witcher. Only this time it used its scream to launch him a couple of feet away.

Geralt's sword fell to the ground away from his hand at the same time as his head hit a rock. The princess held her breath as she watched the scene unfold in front of her eyes, unconsciously taking a few steps to get closer to him. He was moving, so at least she knew he wasn't dead, but he looked really dazed. The bruxa was flying high circling him like a crow, preparing to attack.

"Come on, Geralt, come on!" She muttered in the darkness, taking a couple more steps. Her eyes went from him to the bruxa, watching its movements, and back to him. He was beginning to regain his abilities, but unfortunately the bruxa had decided it was time to finish him off. Even though Geralt was getting back up, there was no way he could get to his sword in time, and she didn't see anything else he could use to defend himself. So she did the only thing she could do at that moment. She ran at him, breaking the one rule Geralt had imposed on her.

She knew it was stupid and risky, but the adrenaline in her veins and the fear of losing Geralt clouded her thinking. She ran to him ready to assist him because she refused to stand still a second longer, watching helplessly as that creature finished him off. It was reckless and dangerous as hell, but what else could she do when the man she loved was in mortal danger? She would never forgive herself if something happened to him that night because she did nothing to help him.

She couldn't lose him, not like this, not now that they were so close to starting to think about a future together. So she ran as fast as she could, reaching the center of the battle before the bruxa managed to get her claws on her beloved. She then cast an Aard signal, Geralt's words echoing in her mind as a wave of energy was expelled from her hand. She managed to knock the bruxa down a couple of feet away, probably because it wasn't expecting her to join the fight. However, the victory didn't last long as the creature got up and rose into the air, only this time she was its target.

She could hear Geralt's voice shouting her name in the distance, urging her to run for cover, but seeing the speed of the bruxa's flight she knew she wouldn't get very far if she tried to run. So she planted herself in place and cast the Quen signal, creating a protective field around her that she hoped would hold until Geralt could reach her. She struggled to maintain her concentration, pushing aside her fear of facing this beast. But even her best effort could not stand against the bruxa's powerful scream. The moment she opened her mouth, the young woman's shield shattered and she was thrown into the air.

She felt the way her body cut through the wind as she flew. The world around her became a blur as she moved at a speed unnatural for a human being. And then her body hit a tree and she fell to the ground. She felt a sharp pain in the back of her head that left her dazed and disoriented. She could hear Geralt's voice calling her name, but it sounded far away. She tried to get up, but her surroundings began to spin as soon as she moved. She felt a warm, sticky liquid coating her hair, but she didn't have the mental capacity to recognize that it was blood gushing from a wound on her head. She was too disoriented to recognize her own surroundings.

In the midst of the confusion, she was able to feel the bruxa's claws digging into her shoulders. As blurry as her vision was, she could make out the beast's face hanging over hers. She thought that this was going to be the end of her, that horrible image being the last thing she would see before she died. She thought of all the things she regretted, of all the experiences she had missed. And she thought of Geralt too. She thought about how much she loved him and how sorry she was that she hadn't been up front with him about how she felt. Maybe things could have been different if she had told him how much she loved him, but now it was too late.

The bruxa brought her face closer to her and the princess closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate. But instead of feeling her teeth clinging to his neck, she heard it let out a pained whimper. Suddenly, she stopped feeling the weight of its body on hers or the sharpness of its claws on her shoulders. And when she opened her eyes she was met with Geralt's face, who was kneeling beside her.

She felt the warmth of his hands on her cheeks and heard the distant, muffled sound of his voice calling her name and asking her to stay with him. She tried to answer him, but her dazed mind was unable to utter coherent words. She felt cold and tired, the urge to close her eyes growing stronger with each passing second.

"Geralt..." was all she was able to utter before everything went black.

When she opened her eyes again it was already morning, she could tell by the sunlight streaming through the window. It took her a few seconds to understand where she was. Her head was throbbing and her vision was still a little blurry, although she didn't know if it was because of the sleep or her injuries. She tried to move, but regretted it almost immediately when she felt the muscles in her body twitch in pain. She let out a hoarse grunt in protest and felt the sound of someone approaching her. It was then that she realized she was back in her room at the inn and that the man next to her was Geralt.

"You're back." he murmured, sitting down next to her on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like absolute shit, but I'll live." she answered with honesty, making an effort to sit up in bed. Geral helped her, reminding her to take it easy as he arranged the pillow to help support her back more comfortably. "What happened exactly?"

"What do you remember?"

She took a moment to think. She remembered being thrown into the air by the bruxa's scream. She remembered the hard impact of her body against a tree trunk and falling to the cold damp ground of the forest, but it was all a blur after that. She knew she had been scared, that she thought she would die and that one of her last thoughts had been Geralt, but she was missing a few key points that would help her connect it all into a coherent line of events.

"I remember being thrown around and hitting a tree, but not much after that." she finally said, skipping the part where she vividly remembered thinking about how much she loved him.

"That's because you hit your head," he explained. "You were bleeding a lot. I barely got to you before you passed out."

There was a hint of sadness and concern in his voice that made her feel bad for taking such a risk. She could almost feel the despair he had felt at that moment just by looking into his eyes. It made her want to apologize, though she regretted it at the last second. Why would she apologize to him? For risking her life? It was her life, so his opinion shouldn't matter. For hurting herself? It wasn't as if she had done it on purpose. Besides, she wasn't sorry for what she had done. He was in trouble and she stepped in to help him. Even if she had ended up with more serious injuries —or even died— she wouldn't have cared as long as she knew he was okay because of it. His safety was always her top priority, whether it was when he arrived at her front door injured, or when they were in the middle of a battlefield. Her purpose in life was to be by his side to take care of him, so she couldn't let him die at the hands of that bruxa.

"Thank you." She spoke after a long silence. She decided to thank him instead of apologizing, it was more honest to what she really felt and not what she thought she had to say based on the expression on Geralt's face. "I'm guessing you are the one who saved me, so thank you for saving my life."

Geralt let out a long sigh. "I shouldn't have had to. You were supposed to stay behind, out of harm's way."

His intention was not to scold her so quickly. She had barely regained consciousness and he was already complaining about her actions and lack of care. He had spent the entire night awake beside her, watching her sleep in the hopes of seeing her open her eyes again. He imagined that when she did, he would hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her, how terrified he had been of losing her and how happy he was to have her back. His intention was to take care of her and make her feel supported and loved. But for some reason seeing her in that weakened state had once again brought out in him that horrible terror he felt when he saw her approach the bruxa.

If the circumstances were different, or if she were someone else, he could probably tell her openly how proud he was of the way she had handled the situation. She had been able to cast the signs without any trouble and for her first time in a battle situation with such a creature, she had been very brave and had put up a good fight. In the future, with more training, he could come to see her as a good ally on the battlefield. The problem was that her life was too important to him to risk it that way. He was used to injuries and being tossed around by the monsters he fought. Hell, he had been created specifically to endure it! But she wasn't. She was a human, fragile and delicate, not made to withstand that kind of combat.

Geralt could not remember a time in his recent past when he had felt the fear that swept over him the moment he saw her challenge the bruxa. And when she fell to the ground after being thrown several feet into the air, he felt the world around him stop for a second, stomach dropping as he waited and prayed to the gods above that she wasn't dead. The pool of blood under her head, the way her eyes slowly closed after whispering his name, it had all been too much for him. Carrying her fainted and bloodied body in his arms back to the village not knowing if she would ever wake up again filled him with a terror he never wanted to feel again in his life.

"Why did you do it?" he asked her after getting no answer from her other than a guilty look, like that of a child caught by his parents doing something mischievous.

"You were in danger," she muttered, lowering her gaze. "She was going to hurt you."

"I had it under control!"

She let out a snort of disbelief. "It didn't look like it."

"It doesn't matter what it looked like, you were supposed to stay behind! You promised you were going to listen to me this time!" Geralt raised his voice, making the princess flinch. She hated it when people yelled, especially men. It brought back bad memories of the life she had left behind. "What were you thinking? You could have been killed!"

"I wasn't thinking! Is that what you want to hear?" She raised the pitch of her voice to match his. "I saw you on the floor and that thing flying at you and I just acted. I'm sorry, but I couldn't stay behind while the man I... care so much about got killed right in front of me." Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to blink to let them fall. She was determined not to show weakness at that moment, even though she was pretty sure Geralt could read the pain in her expression.

The witcher's cold yellow eyes softened slightly, recognizing in her the same terror he had felt. But the fact that he could understand what had been going through her head at that moment did not change the fact that her actions had been reckless and unacceptable. That was the problem with them, they cared so much about each other to the point that they would not hesitate to put their own lives at risk to save the other. If he didn't have the profession he had, maybe that wouldn't be an obstacle to their happiness. But the reality was that she could not be by his side, accompanying him in his life at all times, without being exposed to danger.

Being a witcher meant looking danger in the face, and while he found it sweet that she cared as much for his safety and well-being as he did for hers, traveling with her would only give her more opportunities to hurt herself in order to save him. Being with him put her at risk not only because of the potential dangers they might encounter along the way, but also because of the strength of the connection they shared. She loved him so much that she was willing to sacrifice her life to save his and if he agreed to take her with him on his travels he would be consciously putting her at risk. She was a stubborn and determined woman, so Geralt could be sure that her behavior would not change no matter how many times she told him otherwise. And he loved her too much to risk losing her.

"I don't think this is going to work." Geralt said, standing up from the bed. "This was a mistake, I never should have taken you with me."

Oh.

She hadn't expected those words. She imagined he would be upset with her for disobeying him. She even expected him not to speak to her for the time it would take him to process the situation. But she didn't think he would ever regret her presence there. She thought she had done enough to prove her worth. Sure, things hadn't gone quite right, but she had proven that her skills —magical and non-magical— were of use to him. Perhaps she needed some more training, but she was very good at dealing with people and her vulnerable appearance made her the perfect bait for traps like the one they had set for the bruxa. She didn't expect Geralt to throw all that aside just because of a stupid wound.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked him, trying hard not to let her voice crack as she spoke.

"It means I'm taking you back home as soon as you are ready to travel." Geralt announced in a firm voice before leaving the room with a slam of the door. And just like that, she was left alone, staring at the wood as tears rolled down her cheeks.

She did not speak on the way back any more than was strictly necessary. She did not smile or comment on the beauty of the scenery around her. She didn't chat with Roach in the mornings or stop to play with or heal any of the animals along the way. She didn't even take the time to smell the flowers or listen to the birds sing. It was as if she was a completely different person. It reminded Geralt of how she was when he first met her, quiet, shy and frightened, always scared to say the wrong thing. Her usual sweet and cheerful glow was absent and he couldn't help but feel guilty about it.

He recognized that he had not treated the situation with the care he should have, but he also knew he was doing the right thing. He should never have agreed to take her on one of his trips in the first place, so everything that had happened was his fault. He had been led astray by her charms, by the fantasy of believing that their lives were compatible. He wanted it to be true so badly that he had acted without thinking and as a result had hurt the woman he loved most. He had to fix his mistake and to do so he had to start by recognizing that his dreams were just that, dreams. A future together was not possible because he had not been made to settle down and start a family and she would always be in danger if she joined his travels. So, as much as it pained him, it was best for both of them to keep their lives separate and enjoy the fleeting moments of happiness they had when their paths crossed.

Her usual attitude returned to her when they arrived at her house and it was time to say goodbye. No matter how hurt she was, she couldn't bring herself to ignore Geralt knowing that this could be the last time she would see him for a long time. She gave him a hug that was tighter and lasted longer than it probably should have. But it was what they both needed, a moment to appreciate the comforting warmth of each other's bodies, to feel the spark of love they had for each other floating in the air after days of cold silence. They both needed to tell the other that everything they felt was still there in spite of everything. And both needed to recognize it in the other to know that all was not lost.

As they parted, the princess asked Geralt to be careful, just as she always did when she said her goodbyes to him. She then entered her home and sat in the chair near the door, starting the cycle of worry and uncertainty she found herself in whenever he was away from her home. Once again, her eyes were once again fixed on the dark wood, only this time her chest was heavy with the anguish of not knowing if she would ever see Geralt walk through that door again.

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x fem reader #the witcher x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x fem reader #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia fluff #geralt of rivia angst #henry cavill x reader

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marisol-000 · 17 days

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Clipped Birds Don't Fly

I've decided to not take ao3 going down as a sign and post this anyways ❤

Magpie Au by @dyad-tmesis! Jekyll and Hyde are separate in this one. Everyone knows about Hyde’s wings, but very few know about Jekyll’s.

It was a day like any other when Jasper walked into Doctor Jekyll -Henry's office. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and Sinnet blew something up for the second time that day.

The were-boy had been hanging out in Rachel’s kitchen, dangling his legs and trying to look interested in what the day-manager was saying.

“-and that's the last time I let those two ‘help out’! I mean honestly you’d think they were children but I’d think even children would know not to use the same gloves for dishes you use to carry hazardous materials around!” she huffed, chopping some veggies with a bit too much force.

Jasper wasn't quite as sure but knew better than to disagree with someone holding a large knife.

“And on top of all the new dishes we need to buy I still need Doctor Jay to approve this week's meal plan, in case that wretch Frankenstein has any dietary restrictions, Ooh if I could get my hands on her-”

At this Jasper straightened up, his ears perking. “I could ask him if you need!”

It wasn't that he didn't like Rachel, or her stories, but it always felt awkward to be in a room with someone and not be working. Especially when they were. If she wouldn't let him help cook then he could certainly run a small errand or two! And admittedly he wouldn't mind an escape from her tirades…he still liked her though! (Not like-like, well, yes like-like but not not like-like)

She looked back, blinking. “Oh? If you're sure. You don't have to if you're tired, I know I couldn't sleep in the same room as all those creatures of yours.”

“Ha, I grew up on a farm miss Rachel, at this point I doubt I could sleep without them. And just one list won’t take long!” he begged.

She considered it for a moment, looking a bit put-out. “Hrmm. Fine, I can't say no to those puppy-dog-eyes. But you need to repeat exactly what I say, got it?”

Jasper grinned and nodded rapidly.

He walked in without knocking. A stupid mistake in hindsight. He knew better than most how important privacy could be to a person, but while juggling the list of ingredients Rachel told him and their expected costs it just slipped his mind.

To say he was startled would be an understatement.

Jasper pushed open the heavy wood door to see Edward Hyde. He'd heard all about the man from Rachel and the other lodgers. A wild and intense party guy who didn't fit well with the society's image, leading many to speculate on why Jekyll hired him in the first place.

Some speculations were a bit more… scandalous than others, while some claimed they absolutely hated each other. He didn't really believe them all, nor did he want to think about his boss that way thank-you-very-much, but it did make him curious to meet the so-called ‘spirit of London at night’.

True to the stories he had bushy straw hair and bright green eyes, and of course a small pair of golden wings sprouting from his back. Bird-like and alive.

And Henry Jekyll stood over them with the largest pair of scissors Jasper had ever seen.

For a moment time seemed to slow down, Jekyll lowered the scissors, big things made of heavy metal, to the base of one of Hyde's wings.

Jasper had never seen the wings before, (a warbler maybe? Or some kind of parrot? he felt numb), as he'd never met the man they were attached to, but he'd seen feathers lying around the society. Even been shown some Rachel had secretly held on to. And the fluffy gold feathers matched the wings before him.

But all he could see was red.

Without a thought he lunged forward snarling with a force he hadn't known he was capable of. Eyes locked on the man who saved him from being arrested, he could practically feel his fur emerging, begging his nails to grow into claws.

Nothing happened as Jekyll snapped his eyes up at the growl, just now realizing he was there. The were-boy pushed forward regardless, he was stronger than the doctor. With or without a transformation.

A shout, his vision was cut off by a blur of yellow. Real claws in the form of dark talons swiped at his face.

He clashed with the man-bird-guy. Feeling a bit bad about it, he shoved him to the side to get to Jekyll. Or tried to. Edward Hyde held onto his arm like a lifeline, kicking what he could and even swiping at the boy's hair.

Jasper held off the black talons, and a gold wing that smacked him repeatedly on the head. The assistant was surprisingly strong for being so small. His hat went flying and his shaggy hair danced in his eyes in the small gusts.

Panicked arms cast out for something to grab onto. As bad as it felt to do Jasper grabbed Hyde’s other wing and pulled. The cryptozoologist knew birds’ wings were often stronger than they looked, and was experiencing it firsthand. He muttered something adjacent to an apology as he swung both himself and the avian around. Wincing at his cry of pain and cussing.

Once more throwing the man off he darts forward and lunges at the frozen doctor. Talons pull him back by his sweater to start the fight anew.

After some more tousling Jasper is pulled from the opposite direction, the were-boy yanked by his shirt collar. Away from Hyde who simply hisses and raises a wing in warning instead of following.

Jasper realized he couldn't see Jekyll behind Hyde anymore, and chanced a glance away to look behind himself. Of course, there was only one person it could be.

“How could you?!?” he howled, struggling in his grasp. He could barely believe this was happening, even if Henry didn't like Hyde, like the lodgers said, he wouldn't do something like this would he? What could the man possibly have done to deserve his wings being taken away?

“How could- what?! Mr. Kaylock I demand to know why you felt the need to attack my assistant!”

Hyde hopped back and landed in a crouch on the large desk behind him. “Yeah, I haven't even threatened you with the shovel talk yet!”

“You were trying to cut his wings off, I saw you!”

Jekyll's eyes went wide and brows creased with concern. The hand holding him fumbled and loosened. “What? I would never!”

As the boy whipped around, he paused, “Wait… you weren't?”

“Of course not! Goodness is that what you were so worked up about?” Jekyll sighed, running a hand through his brown (auburn?) locks. “Edward’s wing was snared. I was trying to untangle it.”

Jasper blinked, “You were?” For the first time he looked closely at Hyde's wing, the one that hadn't extended properly the whole fight, the one that wasn't currently being held up in a defensive position with the other.

There, wrapped tightly around the feathered appendage, was a thin wire. Jumbled up and twisted around like a cat stuck in yarn. He watched in shock for a moment as the wing twitched against the cord, pushing uncomfortably against the metal web.

The man himself looked equally as uncomfortable, and maybe a bit embarrassed.

“You see, Mr. Hyde got himself tangled in a clothing wire during his excursion, god knows how, and I was simply removing it from his wing.”

“Did not! It was a fight I tell you! With some very bad guys!” Hyde cried, waving his arms around. His free wing puffing up in protest.

Jekyll rolled his eyes, “Ah yes, a fight, my apologies.”

Jasper felt himself calming down, heart still racing but slower now. “Oh…I, yeah that makes more sense, ha… But-but wait, the scissors?”

It seemed to be Jekyll’s turn to look sheepish, “Well, I figured there was no pressing need to return it. I tried to undo it myself but it’s quite stuck on there. Not to mention Edward’s notorious for not sitting still.”

Jasper thinks about this, slowly relaxing his stance. Hyde watches him skeptically, lowering his wing in turn.

Suddenly Jasper’s shoulders slumped as low as they can, a sigh of air exiting with a whoosh. “Thank goodness. I don't know what I’d do if that were me. If I had wings and had to lose them like that. It’d be like cutting off my tail.”

Hyde snickered, “Didn’t know you cared so much about little ol’ me.”

He looked up immediately, “Of course! I mean, not you specifically, but, no one should have to lose parts of themself like that. Even if you don't like it, it's still part of you. It still IS you. And cutting it out or hiding it is like hiding part of yourself. If you got rid of your wings you wouldn't be the same you anymore.”

Something in Henry’s eyes softened.

“I must say Jasper I’m quite impressed with your resolve, it’s nice to know you wouldn't hesitate to stop someone you thought was causing harm. Even if it happened to be me!” Henry smiled, something almost like pride in his eyes.

“Ha, um, well,” Jasper blushed at the praise, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s nothing really, I…I…” Jasper froze dead, eyes wide as he realized what just happened. “I JUST TRIED TO ATTACK YOU OH MY GOSH I'M SO SORRY!!!!!!”

Later on Jasper has to embarrassedly explain what happened to Rachel, then, even more embarrassingly go back and give Henry the list XD

---

You're out of your mind if you think Rachel wouldn't throw hands with Frankenstein. Unlike the others she didn't grow up reading about and looking up to her; and if you think she's gonna stand for some ungrateful house guest punching her friend unprovoked you've got another thing coming. That being said, she wouldn't want to trigger any allergies on accident or go against any religion-related food preferences. Though mostly it’s in case it interferes w her medicine.

Fun fact the scissors Jekyll’s holding here are the ones in the sketch where he's cutting Edward's hair. They're just so big why did he use those ToT

The sketch that inspired all this!

#NOT angst lol #tgs #the glass scientists #the glass scientists au #tgs magpie au #magpie au #tgs jasper #tgs jekyll #tgs hyde #my art #art

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 3 months

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Vampire Wedding Part 2

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

After Drake's proposal, he again took me on a boat to a cave on a small island.

Drake: "The place we're heading to is further in. It's dark, so should we hold hands, or should I carry you?"

Mitsuki: "H-Hold hands, please."

As we exchanged these words and moved forward,

Mitsuki: "Is that an altar?"

Deep within the cave, a structure seemingly carved from rock stood quietly.

Drake: "This is a church known only to pirates."

Mitsuki: "Only pirates?"

Drake: "A long time ago, churches were built here and there to mourn their dead comrades and hold weddings."

Drake: "This is one of those."

Mitsuki: "Wow, so there are many places like this."

Listening to Drake's explanation, I looked around.

Mitsuki: "It's kind of surprising. I thought pirates didn't really believe in gods."

Drake: "That's not true. The goddess of the sea is quite jealous, you know?"

While lowering the large luggage he had carried from the ship, he smiled wryly.

Drake: "If I don't pledge my love properly in front of the goddess, she'll sink our ship."

Drake: "So if I'm going to marry you, it has to be here."

(We're really having the wedding tonight.)

While I was in a daze, he beckoned me over.

Drake: "Come here, Mitsuki. A bride needs to get ready."

Mitsuki: "But I haven't prepared anything."

Feeling ticklish at the word "bride," I hesitated, but he gave me a mischievous smile.

Drake: "I told you, didn't I? You just need to let yourself be swept away by me."

Drake: "Naturally, everything is prepared, including the dress."

As he said this, he opened the luggage, and I saw a pure white wedding dress and various sparkling accessories.

Mitsuki: "Wow!"

The delicate beauty of the dress and the dazzling sparkle of the accessories took my breath away.

Mitsuki: "It's beautiful! Thank you, Drake!"

Mitsuki: "But can I really put on this dress by myself?"

Drake: "Leave it to me, fawn."

He took the dress and held it up against my body.

Drake: "It's my privilege alone to make you beautiful."

Drake: "I'll make you the most beautiful bride in the world, Mitsuki."

True to his words, Drake skillfully helped me put on the dress and accessories.

Drake: "All done. What do you think?"

My reflection in the mirror looked glamorous, like a completely different person from just moments ago.

Mitsuki: "It feels like a dream."

(As expected of Drake, the dress and accessories fit my taste perfectly.)

Drake: "I almost mistook you for a princess from somewhere. It suits you very well."

Before I knew it, he had finished getting dressed and looked at me.

Behind his eyes, there was a shimmering heat, perhaps due to the full moon.

Mitsuki: "Drake, are you okay? Are you in pain?"

Drake: "I've had more than enough blanc, so I'm good."

Drake: "But you're so beautiful that it's making me restless."

He let out a sigh, as if holding something back.

(Even now, he's like this. What more if he's already drunk my blood?)

Mitsuki: "Hey, even without a blood oath, I—"

He pressed his finger against my lips, cutting off my words.

Drake: "I told you. It's what I want."

Drake: "And I won't lose control and hurt you."

He smiled reassuringly and extended his hand.

Drake: "Now, shall we begin our private wedding?"

Mitsuki: "Okay!"

Standing in front of the altar, Drake lifted my veil.

Drake: "Mitsuki."

His eyes, looking straight at me, reflected only me.

Drake: "From now on, my soul will always be with you."

Drake: "Even if I'm swallowed by the storm and sink to the bottom of the sea, my soul will return only to you."

Quietly, his solemn vow etched a strong determination deep within my heart.

Drake: "Will you be the place I return to, Mitsuki?"

With as much determination as his, I gazed back into his aquamarine eyes.

Mitsuki: "Yes."

Mitsuki: "Even if we are separated in the future, my soul will always be with you."

Mitsuki: "Thes place I will always return to is by your side, Drake."

As I spoke, filled with overwhelming happiness and love, he smiled warmly.

Drake: "By the seven seas, I swear, you are mine forever."

He lifted my left hand and brought his face closer.

Drake: "And I will be yours forever, Mitsuki."

His whispered words were followed by a sharp pain as his fangs pressed against my ring finger.

Mitsuki: "Ah..."

The pain was followed by a tingling pleasure that spread throughout my body.

I shivered involuntarily, and he pulled me close, his breath coming out in rough gasps.

Drake: "I was prepared for it, but your blood really is exceptional."

His body, as he murmured longingly, was hot, and his heart pounded like a drum.

Mitsuki: "Drake, are you okay一Mmph."

Before I could finish, his hot lips covered mine.

Drake: "You should worry about yourself more than me, Mitsuki."

Despite his light tone, his voice was filled with heat, and he continued to devour my lips.

The repeated kisses fueled the pleasure I'd felt from my finger earlier, and I clung to him, seeking more of that heat.

Mitsuki: "Mmph... ha, so hot..."

When our lips finally parted, I was utterly drained, leaning heavily against him.

Drake: "Now we've got the sea goddess's approval."

He looked at me, a ferocious aura surrounding him.

Drake: "So, it's alright if I savor you to the fullest, right?"

Drake: "Let me take everything from you."

His eyes, filled with a heat strong enough to make me melt, were breathtakingly seductive.

Mitsuki: "Yes. Take everything."

Shivering with the joy of being desired, I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung tightly.

Trembling with the joy of being desired, I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tightly.

Mitsuki: "Take everything, Drake. My husband."

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Premium ╎ Epilogue

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp translations #ikevamp #ikevamp jp #ikevamp drake #ikevamp francis #francis drake #cybird

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nocturnesanomaly · 3 months

Text

Chapter 4: I've never been one to let go

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series:The Divine Violence - Chapter 4: I've never been one to let go

Wordcount: 5.9K

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Grooming, Self-harming behaviours

Description: You share your knowledge with the team, reminding you of darker pasts, while Simon seeks to rekindle his familiarity with you.

A/N: You. Yes you. Go drink water. Right now. Good job :)

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

The meeting room has lost its fresh smell a long time ago. Too many of the early morning hours spent looking over papers and files, that are all entirely useless to you. Paperwork. It had always been the bane of your existence, even back when it truly mattered to your career. Necessary, and all the more frustrating for it.

The morning sun had already arisen to be at the perfect angle, right where its shine hits you in the eyes when you bend down to read. It had no business being that sharp in this season. It provided so little heat in the late November days, and tended to become more of a hindrance than anything.

Every file on the table listed people of interest, cities, landmarks, field reports from past agents. You flip another one over, trying your best to ignore the file that lays at the edge of the table. The list of casualties. All the crimes of the cult wrapped up into one set of clipped documents. You didn't dare look, to see how many of the names and faces you'd recognize.

"Auness, Backfield, Springview..." Gaz lists off the cities on his document, "I haven't even heard about half of these."

Soap leans over the table from across him. He snatches the paper out of his hand, despite the little protesting sounds Gaz let's out. "Ah, think I’ve been to Springview once...lovely neighbourhood," Soap says with a grin on his face.

"They're all small communities, some were only truly fostered to life after the cult's influence," you inform them. The document in your hand lists off a field report from years ago, a group of soldiers passing by Backfield only to be met with hostility. There had been 10 when they went in, 2 came out. That had been the true start of it back then, when things really derailed.

It had been all over the news for a time. It's incredible how quickly the world forgets.

"All done by the dishonourable... Michael Wilder..." Gaz picks up the document that had been placed in the middle of the table. The only person that ever took any responsibility for it all. Though never suffering the consequences for his crimes, he let it be known he was the one that stood behind it all.

"Ah expected his name to sound different....well...anything other than Michael..." Soap makes a distasteful face, leaning back in his chair. "What kind of cult leader is named Michael, it's not a very intimidating name." Rich coming from a guy named Soap, you think, but the comment never leaves your mind.

"I think that's the point," Gaz corrects, to which you can only nod.

He did have another name once upon a time, but you can scarcely remember it now. Perhaps even before you truly got to know all the things he's done. Maybe he had a nicer side once, that was lost to some tragic event from bad people. It didn't do any good to dwell on it. Who he is now is your problem.

"Murder, Torture, Arson, Kidnapping, Rural crimes...bloody hell, what hasn't this guy done," Gaz says exasperated. There’re many things that man hasn't done that he wanted to; you don't doubt that he would've done a lot worse if there hadn't been a collapse in management. He was building something grand.

"Speculative all of them...can't connect him to all of it, but there's nobody else that could have possible been responsible, the cult is a collective." You can still remember what it was like the first time you walked amongst these cultists. The clear admiration, the shock and awe, the forsaken faith in a brighter future. They might have been misguided, but they truly believed in what they were doing, there was no deceit from them.

"Shit, even something as small as vandalism, who'd have thought" Soap points to it on the list.

"He burnt down a chapel."

Both of them turn their heads to you in an instant, the surprise on their face shows most of their thought process to you. There's not much to explain, the whole ordeal was pretty straight forward. The only crime you personally had physical evidence of still.

"Ah thought they were supposed to be a religious cult..."

"They are. And still he set fire to the chapel, watched it burn down along with the surrounding forest."

You don't feel like their open mouth in awe reaction is warranted. The cult has been responsible for far worse, is planning far worse, is doing far worse as you all speak for all you know. There's only one true problem with the retelling, you're not about to bore them with the details.

"Were there people inside? Any get out?" Gaz asks carefully.

"Twenty-two, none recovered."

The silence stretches out to an uncomfortable extent. You've already made it awkward. That's got to be a record for you by now, how long has it been? Not even 30 minutes. Despite how much you want to refute your words, they are true. There is nothing remotely funny about the group of people you're after.

"There's been more documented causalities, everything is accounted for," you try to sound reassuring, but it comes out as uncertain. The two men either don't care or don't seem to notice.

A chill runs through you, unexpected, a subtle reminder of the eyes on you. Once upon a time you'd be worried about sharing too much information with the wrong kinds of people, the reminder had been helpful then, now it was a nuisance.

"At least we finally have a good shot at getting to these guys," Gaz speaks up and tries to break the uncomfortable atmosphere you've created. "This is extensive work," he nods to you and gestures to the entire table, "impressive."

Soap nods to agree, and you follow the motion idly without thinking. A little too late, you let out a rushed, "thank you."

You block out the rest of their conversation, only perking up your head when anything of relevance was shared. The two kept a good flow of idle chatter and gossip. Nothing you paid any mind to, gossip wasn't why you were here, you reminded yourself.

"So have ye ever actually spoken with any of them?" Soap asks.

"Wha..what?" You stutter. The question came seemingly out of nowhere. You almost drop the pen in your hand. It would have made an annoying clattering sound if you did. The thought makes you tighten your grip.

"They seem like a nasty bunch, preaching all of that with no remorse," Soap continues in an attempt to explain himself, "have ye met with them? Spoken to Michael?"

You want to snap at him. It's a dumb question you want to say, inappropriate and entirely irrelevant to the investigation. Except it's not.

You want to shut him down just as badly regardless.

"Uh... I..." *Fuck me* "Yeah...he's not pleasant...listen I need to get a few of these files scanned in, so I can send them over to Laswell, you two just keep at it, and I'll be back." It's an obvious lie to everyone in the room, a bad attempt at getting out for fresh air. Neither of them comments on it, and within a flash you're gone.

Opening the front door is a dreaded action. You can already imagine the battlefield you'll be entering; the feint mumble of raised voices can already be heard from your position. The minefields are always planted carefully, specific spots that you don't expect unless you've been traversing those dirts for years at a time.

It's never specific, never the same thing.

One wrong step, and you've got someone screaming down your face.

That battlefield was your home.

Opening the door only makes the feint screaming louder to your ears. You quickly locate it to be the kitchen, easy enough to avoid. Just have to kick off your shoes, place them neatly, tiptoe past the little opening and through the living room, to the stairs and your room. All without being noticed.

"Deus spes nostra, my child."

You stop abruptly. The only reason you don't let out a loud squeak of surprise, is the hand you slapped across your mouth. Your head whips towards the couch, gone are all thoughts of the perfect view into the kitchen you're right in the middle of.

Your expression falls when you realize who it is. An old friend of your father's from his military days. He sat on the couch with his usual poise and striking manner. He'd been staying here for the last two months, something about vacation, something about deployment, something about no money, something about too much money.

You had tried asking your father several times, whenever he was in the mood for your presence. Each time you got a different answer, and there was no way you'd find yourself asking the actual man himself.

In no way did you dislike him. He'd always been nice to you, making conversation in the silence, giving you gifts when you were upset. He'd almost been a part of the family since you were young, but he'd been gone for several years, and now you felt like a different person to back then.

"What?"

A grin breaks across his face. His form relaxing into the cushions behind him as he regards you just long enough that you're about to repeat yourself.

"Did your father never teach how to properly respond?"

He runs a hand over smooth blond hair, bleached you'd say, but you have no doubt he'd disagree. Ever since he had come back, he tried to make conversation with you, foster a friendship with you, trying to become some type of adult figure in your life. You don't know what you actually see him as. A man, your father’s friend, a stranger mostly.

"Respond to what?"

"Deus spes nostra, you respond with Deus lux mea est." His stare is a piercing blue, spikes digging into your soul and setting hooks in flesh and meat.

"Why," you ask sceptically.

"It's an affirmation of our faith, an identifier, so to speak." He sees the way you stare quizzically, the way your brain is picking up on the small things, learning the minor details that you haven't even realized yet.

A loud bang can be heard from the kitchen, the split and shatter of glass, and then silence. Your mind panics at the implication, old defence mechanisms going into place. You flinch and move quickly to the nearest couch, curl up on it, making yourself seem as small and unnoticeable as possible. Every fibre in your body told you to end the conversation and go to your room, but the man didn't feel like letting you go just yet.

"Easy, my child, nothing will happen to you as long as you stay with me." He speaks soft words of comfort. It does nothing to ease you.

You try to combat the tremble in your voice, you put on a fierce look, one of strength and deep hidden anger.

"I'm not a child."

He chuckles at that. Two breaths, dry, not believing.

"Oh sure, you do seem very mature for your age."

He's mocking you. It's nothing you haven't heard before, despite the truth of the statement, you were still deemed a kid by most adults in your life. You felt like you had grown faster than the others, you acted with more care, more knowledge, and somehow you still feel behind in every aspect.

"I guess...people have told me that a lot" You look towards the opening to the kitchen. All it would take was for the conversation to become too loud, to bring attention upon yourself. It would be so easy to bring on the wrath of your father or the disgust of your mother. You had the marks to count for it.

"You're a special one, your father tells me as much. I can still remember when you were younger, always a bit peculiar." That would be a head turner if you've ever heard one. There’s no part of you that actually believes his words, yet he says them with such conviction.

Any word that comes out of your father’s mouth about you has never been in a positive light. Occasionally he'll drop a hint of satisfaction whenever you do something for him, but that's as good as it's gonna get. Being called special or peculiar by your father must be more of an insult.

The man reaches out and places an unwelcome hand on your knee. He seems to notice the change in your expression. An uncertain frown settling on your lips. "Not in a bad way, dear, you've got something others don't, a potential that others can't see, but I do," he says.

That doesn't reassure you in the slightest, but the little flame in your heart is already lit.

"You're turning eightteen soon, isn't that right? Next year?" He asks and pulls back again. He takes note in the way you seem to release the tension in your shoulders. There's no longer any noise from the kitchen. You don't hear it.

"Yeah..."

He smiles.

"Have you ever thought about enlisting? Serving with your brother and sisters in arms, I'm sure it'd make your father very proud." He seems too sure, and perhaps he was right. Your father's time in the military had always been described with honour and respect. A time of his life where he did something worthwhile, it made him the man he is today.

"Uh...I...No...I haven't"

You never want to be anything like him.

"You can't be serious, Simon!" Your voice echoes throughout the graveyard. A few of the crows in the trees fly off into the sunset. Simon knew you'd react like this. He thought himself prepared for your outrage, ready to comfort you and make you understand. Your emotions are intense and renders him silent.

"You can't go! What about everything we have going on here, we had a plan you know! You can't just bail on that."

The plan had always been a fantasy, he thought you knew that. Something you would whisper aloud in the quiet of the night. Dreams of running away, of scraping enough money to get a small flat together, of helping each other through the adult years of your life, at least until you both got stable.

He had seen it for what it was, a childish fantasy. It wasn't a reliable solution.

"God, and even just listening to the stories from my dad, it's awful there, why would you want to be a part of that!"

The graveyard feels ice-cold. The spider lilies are dead. There's no warmth to gain from the lowering sun, painting the sky in gold and orange. You've never looked more beautiful than this. Emotion so evident in your eyes, and the sun's glow reflecting it. He doesn't fail to notice the tears lining your eyes, the breaths you hold in an attempt to not cry.

You look divine, an angel on earth.

The last thing he wants is to see you plunged into darkness. Something he fears will happen when he takes his departure alone. He adores you, he always has deep down, but he needs to prioritize himself, get himself out before this place kills him completely.

"I thought we were in this together! I thought you cared for us, for me, for all this!"

Your words are chipping away at his patience. Your inability to understand his side of things, the unwilling part of you that won't even try. He understands as far as it allows him to. He knows you're afraid of what will happen if you're separated. You've always struggled with believing in yourself.

He knew you'd be fine. He knew you'd find your own way out, that you could be reunited in a few years somewhere better, healthier and safer.

"We are!" he yells back, "I care so much for you, for what we have even when it's here."

"Then why won't you-"

"But I can't stay here spider, it's killing me" he cuts you off. The words leave a sour taste on his tongue, it's the bare-bones truth that can be applied to both of you. Your own childhood homes weren't safe for neither of you. Mentally nor physically.

"I get that...but...what about me..."

"Spider, not everything is about you!" he regrets his words just as quick as they leave his mouth. He can see the look of betrayal on your face, it matches the dread he feels in his stomach. You take a retreating step backwards. "Wait-" he calls your name; he reaches for you, but you don't let him touch you.

"You have to understand, this is the only way out for me. In the military, I might actually be able to do some good," he tries to explain to you.

You're not having any of it.

"Fine, go then! Get yourself killed" you shout, turning on your heel before he can stop you. His brain screams at him to follow you, to comfort you, to get you to understand so you won't be mad at him, but he doesn't.

After years and years of searching, Simon has found that roaming the halls aimlessly has become an adequate stress relief. There are certain times of the day when the halls are completely deserted. Each step echoes and bounce off the walls around him. A rare occurrence when he doesn't care to make his steps featherlight, he let’s people hear he's coming.

It makes for a good trance of thought. He disliked most of the walks outside around base, the frost biting at his covered skin, and damp boots seeping water into his socks, but the hallways were dry and quiet. Most of the time.

He's solved a lot of internal problems this way. Stomping through the hallways deep in thought and looking as intimidating as ever. Back when he and Johnny were new and uncertain, he used to avoid him this way. One easy way to avoid someone who was always looking for you, was to always be on the move.

Of course, it hadn't worked forever, Johnny eventually found him, and made him confront his own feelings despite how uncomfortable it made him.

This time around, his thoughts drift to you. They always drift to you these days. Like a disease you've infested his thoughts, reminded him of things that was once buried deeply. There's still a lot of things unresolved between the two of you, things he wishes he could sit you down and talk to you about.

Ever since you've arrived, you had a weird effect on him. You manage to leave your presence in every room you walk into, he can almost sense where you've been, the people you've talked to. You're everywhere, and whenever he needs to find you, you disappear completely.

It's a frustrating cycle.

Perhaps for the first time, he understands how frustrated Johnny must have been those years ago when he avoided him like the plague. You seem to be doing the same thing now, whether you're conscious of it or not.

Part of him is completely fine with it. You stay out of each other's way, avoid bringing up any bad blood. It doesn't absolve his endless questions, however. He can barely focus, even when he's with Johnny, every scar of his that he lets his eyes run over, his thoughts go to yours. How did you get them, who gave them to you, are they still alive?

He could always figure it all out on his own. There was no real need to ask, but he still held a modest amount of respect for you.

He doesn't pay attention as someone zooms right past him. Whoever they were, they were in a hurry, and in his mind, it was no concern of his. More than likely just a recruit late for training, or a soldier forgetting their report.

It's only when he refocuses his eyes and sees Johnny standing in the distance with a look of disbelief on his face, that he turns around to see you zooming away in the distance, rounding a corner when you finally get far enough.

He raises his brows behind his mask, his eyes turning to narrow slightly as he pieces together a situation, which he has no context to.

"They finally get sick of you?" Simon questions broadly, his voice taking a joking tone with the man lingering in the doorway.

Johnny didn't look all that much amused, his eyes continuing to follow you until you were completely out of sight. "They're an interesting one," Johnny mumbles while letting out a sigh.

"Don't like them?"

"Ye kiddin? Ah adore the dark, mysterious, quiet bastards that somehow always enter my life" Johnny's tone comes across as sarcastic, but there's truth to his words. Early on in their relationship, Simon had been convinced that Johnny just had a huge case of saviour complex for him. He still doesn't know if it actually did start out like that, but he can say with certainty it's developed much more complex.

Simon scoffs and shakes his head. "They didn't use to be so..." he trails off, looking back at where you went as if he could catch another glimpse, but you were already gone.

"Moody?" Johnny proposes half serious.

"Distant," Simon corrects him.

Johnny nods. He walks out of the doorway, does a gesture to someone inside, and lets the door close behind him with a soft click. The hallway is plunged back into silence as the two look at each other. Simon has never really liked intense eye contact, but he makes way too much of it on purpose.

"Have ye talked to 'em yet?" Johnny walks over to the nearby wall, leaning against it lazily. He looks tired, worn out, which is a surprise from the lack of meaningful things to do over the last while. It's not completely nonsensical, Simon is well aware of how easily Johnny can be drained from lack of activity. Having something to do is what scratches that needed itch deep in his brain.

"I've tried to." Johnny doesn't look like he believes him. He would like to convince himself that it's true, but a part of him hasn't been searching for a level ground with you either. He has no idea where to start, how to re-establish that familiarity you once shared. It makes all the deep corners of his mind stir.

Johnny gives him a look he knows well. He knows he should get on it, push past any fears and at least get back on a professional standing instead of skittish cats tiptoeing around each other like the other is going to strike.

"Don't look at me like that," Simon says defensively. Johnny puts his hands up mimicking surrender, his teeth flashing through in his smile. The smirk could easily be wiped off his face, but he has no energy to do anything about it.

"Just talk to them already, ah can practically feel the tension three rooms over every time ye two are in each other's vicinity." Johnny shakes his head, before urging Simon on his way.

A droplet of sweat falls into your eyes. It stings and leaves a burning sensation behind. In any other scenario, you'd be fighting yourself to get it quickly wiped away, to get the pain to stop. Your focus is elsewhere. Plastered on the punching bag in front of you.

Each hit sends you further and further into a locked state of mind.

One two one two one two.

It keeps your thoughts occupied. Prying them away from the creeping shadows and their tempting whispers.

Miss it. Miss it.

Hit yourself. Hit yourself.

You close your eyes and continue to count.

One two one two

Bang your face against the wall till the bone inverts.

They're insistent tonight.

You switch up your stance. Circling the bag before taking it on at a different angle. You want to excuse your jittery movements on too much coffee, but you know the reminder of how close you're getting to going near that hell is enough to have you like this.

The more you think about it, the more the small whispers in your ears taunt you. A scent of sulphur and burnt flesh sometimes pass you by. It makes you do a double take in your movements, before you can tell yourself that it's not here. It doesn't make it go away, but if you focus just a little more on the red fabric of the bag instead of the red on your knuckles, then maybe it will tone itself down.

It's a futile attempt. The voices never really listened, no matter how much you answered them or ignored them. Independent of your reaction, they only seemed to want to taunt your mind. You could hardly recall back when your mind would be relatively empty, but the time had been there.

You try to circle the bag again, coming back and forth between the space you're allowed. Your respite comes in the knowledge that nobody would be here to observe your uncertainty. There was hardly anyone at the gym this late at night. The reason you chose it in the first place.

You were rusty, a bit out of shape, but you still had your technique. It had been hammered into you for years, you wouldn't forget it that easily. Each hit to the bag makes it sway slowly around, the massive weight not being very deterred by your punches.

Blood rushes through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest and causing you to breathe unevenly. It's an afterthought to put yourself through small breathing techniques between sets. Every sound that emits in the room plays into your mind, flashes images to the forefront of your brain.

The sound of the wind outside splashing against the windows. The sound of your punches against the bag. The sound of distant footsteps. The sound of a barking dog outside, one that would bear red crosses on white pelt. The sound of low murmuring all around you. The sound of a gunshot.

You whip your head around, choking on your own spit, when you're met by the sight of the man you've been avoiding. Your eyes flicker to the person behind him, made of shadows, smiles and bad omens. It puts an uneven hand on Simon's shoulder.

The sound of your beating heart is loud in your ears, you almost fear he can hear it as well. Your breath is low, uneven, easily excusable to the exercise you were doing instead of the nightmare standing there. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palm. Small droplets of blood trickle in-between your fingers.

He hands you a water bottle. It takes you by surprise, a sudden gesture of kindness. "You look about ready to collapse," his voice is gruff and tired. You bite the inside of your cheek when you accept it.

The cold water is like heaven for your dry throat. Your body graciously accepting the hydration it's clearly needed for a while now. He wasn't totally wrong about your state. You heard the whispers, how you've been looking sick the entire day. Then again when don't you.

"Thank you..." you mumble quietly, taking another gulp from it.

"Yeah..." he looks at you like he's expecting something from you.

You stare at him wearily, trying your damned hardest to discern whatever expression he's making under the mask by his eyes alone. More than anything, you wanted to pull it off of him. You wanted to see him, truly see him.

Would he have stubble? A full-on beard, maybe. Would he have the same hair length as back then, would he have smile lines, wrinkles when he laughs? His voice was deeper, would his laugh sound different now?

"We need to talk," he says your name so quietly, like he's afraid to utter it, as if you'd spring on him like a monstrous creature or haunted ghost.

"We're talking," technically you aren't, but for you this might as well be a conversation already. Heat blooms in your chest, rising unwillingly to your cheeks. Once upon a time that would've been from bashfulness, now it was more of a deep-rooted shame, a fear of your own anticipation for what's to come.

"I'm..." he stutters over his own words, "I'm not entirely sure what went wrong between us."

He pauses and your eyebrows furrow, your mouth quivering with words unspoken.

"Maybe it was something I did, being the reason, we stopped talking but..." your eyes flicker around his mask, the urge turns pained in your chest. He shakes his head. "I hope we can put it past us, for the sake of the mission."

You hand the water bottle back to him. He accepts it, but you can see in his movements how he takes it as rejection. Your eyes are clear on the target he's becoming.

"No, I..." your voice comes out raspy. You clear your throat. "I'm not sure either, what went wrong, but I hold nothing against you...Simon...I guess we just grew apart." It's a big fat lie, but the millisecond of what you'd call relief that shows in his eyes are well worth it.

He exhales his breath loud enough to be noticeable, his form sagging just a little without breaking. "You don't?" when you nod as confirmation, he matches it. "That so...I'd like to start again...I'm curious where you've been all this time, it would be nice to catch up...begin again."

That little voice in your head bristles. A quiet little thing that belongs to a childhood version of you. It wants him to shut up, to stop the pretending front he's putting on. Then there's the other little voice, a voice of reason, one that's still young and malleable. They fight over your decision-making.

He looks down at your hands, notices the feint trail of blood where you split a knuckle. His eyes go small, focusing on it a tad too long before you can pull your hands out of view from him.

Your teeth catch your lip before you make the conscious decision to let it go. "Yeah...we can...try again...from the beginning," the dry laugh you let out doesn't sound convincing, but it seems to be enough for him to buy into. Maybe all you had isn't dead just yet, and when the call comes crashing it all down, you can use the connection for your own burning benefit.

"Right..." there's a note of excitement in his voice, the slightest change in octave and rhythm. "I'll be looking forward to it," he takes his turn to leave the same way he had sneaked in. "Oh, and spider, clean yourself and the equipment up, gonna give yourself a bad reputation like that."

He's being cheeky behind that mask, you can tell. Yet the reawakening of the nickname stirs the softest of a smile to almost make it to your lips.

Your feet hurt. Every step sends another spike of pain up your legs, every swaying movement threatening to send you barrelling forward. You're late. Horribly late. Each breath catches in your throat, and you barely look at the road before you pass it. Only a loud honking alerting to just how close you were to being run over, but you couldn't stop, you had to catch him in time.

You couldn't believe you were almost missing this. Your last chance at seeing him before he leaves for good. The wind hisses in your ears, the cold burns at your uncovered feet. You couldn't believe you had let it come to this.

For the last few weeks, you had been ignoring him, only sharing the most necessary of things. There was no banter between you, no jokes or laughter, and all because you couldn't contain your own anger for his decision.

His stupid, stupid decision.

You couldn't talk him out of going.

He couldn't talk you out of resenting him for it.

The sky is on fire. Rays of the sun blinding you on your way, making you squint your eyes to see. The oranges mixed with yellows makes the clouds look unreal. It's a thing that would have stopped you if it weren't for the agonizing consequences of your decisions weighing on your shoulders. The sky meant nothing to you now.

The graveyard is a welcome sight, the rusted gate creaked open wider than normal. You zoom past it, stumbling over one of the larger rocks scattered about. It propels you forward into the yard, crashing your knees against the gravel. It cuts and stings, but the buzzing under your skin is too loud to notice.

You call out his name. Your voice holding no bounds for your desperation. The only sound that comes back is the crows squawking, the fluttering of wings as they fly far away from you. There's no answer to your call, no familiar voice sounding out to meet you, no warm hand on your shoulder that would pull you into a hug.

He's gone, you realize all too late.

One forgetting mind, two arguments with your mother, and a punishment to follow, all for nothing. You missed your window. You missed the time he'd said he'd wait. He's left and with what, the only knowledge that you're angry with him. He's putting himself in potential danger, and he thinks you resent him.

More than that, he's actually out of reach for you now.

A fear that had infested your bones long before his ugly announcement. A fear that was now no longer just a fear.

Your breathing stutters. Your vision blurs. Blues, oranges, greys and reds, blobs of nothing filling your vision spilling down your cheeks. They might as well freeze in place. Your legs refuse to obey, your body hunches over from every dry heave, every soundless sob and every claw at the ground.

You were alone now.

Yet a hand places itself on your shoulder. It spooks you enough to let out a scream, yet when you whip around, you're only met with a soft smile. The hand is too big to be Simon's, too rough and too scarred. You stare into the eyes of a different man.

A friend. An enemy. A figure you could cling your shattered mind to in your late teen angst.

"You'll be alright," he mouths the words, and you're sure he speaks them, but they never reach you.

"You can meet him again," he stands tall, watches down at your kneeling form with a twist of something that churns your stomach, "I can show you the way to him."

"What?" Your voice is barely audible.

"Through the path to God we may find redemption, and through that path you may find your friend once again, we are all the same under His light."

He tosses a lighter down on the ground next to you.

"Let me show you the path to the light."

You can smell the smoke in the air, taste the ash on your tongue, feel the blood beneath your nails.

It's too late to let go now the hook has sunk into flesh.

The flame is already lit.

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