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usmsgutterson · 2 years ago

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Tear The World Apart- Jesper Fahey x tidemaker! reader

Okay!! This was requested by an anon, and anon, if you’re seeing this, I hope you like it!! I really liked the request and I was super excited to have the opportunity to write it out, and I am so sorry that this took two weeks! I promise, I meant to get it out before finals weeks started, but it started and my ability to be a productive writer went out the window because of studying. Also, if I got any of the specifics wrong, I am an idiot who has a shit memory and I couldn’t find the request that I responded to because of tumblrs shitty search system, so I apologize!

Anon asked for a slowburn, so I went ahead and had the candle burning for a decent five years, and I did two scenes per year! I meant to keep this from getting too long but I think it may have anyway, and regardless, anon, I hope you enjoy!

fic type- theres fluff, there’s angst, there’s a bit of hurt/comfort and some yearning tossed in there for the sake of it.

warnings- a LOT of death here (the reader almost dies twice--oops?) the reader sometimes wants Kaz dead and that’s discussed, poisons, stabbings, explosions and the shrapnel from those explosions leaving cuts are discussed, fire and water are both discussed a fair bit, guns and gunsmoke, and stitching up wounds are mentioned.

SEVENTEEN

You’d gone to Ketterdam with the start of the Ravkan Civil War, when you were fifteen years old. You had no plans, just the money given to you by Genya as she ushered you onto a boat that would take you to Fifth Harbor, the kefta that’d been on your back and the clothes that you’d stashed into the crossbody bag you carried.

You ended up at the Slat in search of a spot to live. Kaz had given you a decently sized room and called it a day. You ended up joining the Dregs twelve hours later, after summoning the moisture from the air and using it to shield Kaz from a stray dagger that’d been heading for his neck.

Two weeks later, Jesper joined the Dregs. Your rooms were across the hall from one another, and a friendship formed fast. You were at each others sides nearly all the time, and by the time that Inej and Nina joined up, they’d thought you to be a couple.

As much as you wished for that, such wasn’t the truth. By seventeen, you’d well and truly fallen in love with Jesper. You never said anything for fear of the love being unrequited, and most days, you just relished the casual way in which one of Jespers arms would wrap around your shoulders, the use of the silly nicknames that he used with mostly everyone else.

And still, even despite the fact that some days, the fact that you hadn’t confessed to him made your throat close up and your heart break bit by bit, you carried on.

You let yourself into Jespers room at the Slat. You refilled his kettle, found something to make a quip about, teased him over the new addition of the coffee press he’d bought the week before.

“At least my room is not barren of any sign of life,” Jesper said with a grin as you took mugs from the drawer of his dresser that he’d devoted to them. A total of six mugs were stashed there, the rest of the space being occupied with tea, various different kinds of coffee, a few sugar packets, some powdered sweetened milk, and a couple of wooden stirring sticks.

You scoffed. “My room is not barren,” you said, placing the mugs on the dresser. You touched a hand to the kettle, filling it with water without thinking. “I have my books. I have a chest with my clothes, a few mementos from home.”

“How many books is it, exactly?” Jesper asked. You turned to glance at him as he sat up, smirk playing at his lips. “Ten, perhaps?”

“Fifteen.”

“Nerd.”

“Coffee addict.”

“Tea addict,” Jesper said as he stood. “Really, Y/N. When you think about it, you’re no better than I am.”

You flipped the switch on the bottom of the kettles handle, grabbing sugar packets, stirring sticks, and coffee grounds as you waited for it to ring out a seven-toned song indicating that the water had finished boiling.

“Well, the fact that I’ve saved you from drowning twice might just beg to differ a little bit,” you said. Jesper shook his head as he grabbed the coffee press, taking the top off and pouring a roughly estimated three tablespoons of coffee grounds into the bottom.

“I’ve saved you from three stray bullets and a shiv made of fabrikator altered Grisha steel,” Jesper said pointedly. You laughed, tilting your head back and looking away for a moment.

Neither of you ever really kept score of how many times you’d saved one anothers lives through those years. You only brought it up in times like those, ones wherein jokes and quips were at the forefront of your minds. Never had you, never would you, use the times you’d saved his life against him, and in turn, neither would he.

Jesper grinned, grabbing one of the mugs you’d put out as the kettle sang it’s seven toned song. He poured some of the water into his coffee press, stirring it before putting the lid back on and letting it sit.

You took the kettle shortly after he’d placed it next to your mug, the both of you succumbing to silence as you made your drinks of choice.

“Come down to the shops with me today?” Jesper asked. “Need to get a bit more tea, as it seems, and I have to get a bit of dry cleaning. These chores are a lot less tedious with company.”

You scoffed. “I’ll buy the tea, podge.”

“I buy the tea, you buy the coffee?”

“Fine, coffee addict.”

Jesper laughed as he pulled the lever down, pouring the scalding coffee into his mug thereafter.

“Nerd,” he said.

“The nerd whom you consider a best friend.”

Jesper shrugged. “Luck of the unlucky draw.”

“Dickhead.”

Jesper laughed again, and you bumped your elbow against his arm. He repeated the gesture as you finally took a sip of your tea, trying to allow it some time to steep in the water and the packet of powdered milk you’d stirred in.

You drank your coffee and tea as you made idle conversation. Jesper mentioned the heist that Kaz had planned. You talked about how the payout was to be good--fifteen thousand kruge for a relatively large mansion in the western area of the financial district. For an easy job and a credible employer, the money was amazing--and joked about making a few jabs at Kaz’s expense.

When you left the Slat, you left it with Jespers arm around your shoulders, grin on your face, yearning consuming every part of your being as you moved. It was heartbreaking, really, and you knew that, but for the sake of yours and Jespers friendship, you would remain quiet in your yearning, object simply to suffer in silence.

Jesper laughed as he watched you pull your winter kefta off your shoulders later that night.

You’d gone with each other to run your errands. A trip for tea, coffee, and dry cleaning quickly turned from that into a trip for tea, coffee, dry cleaning, a place that sold daggers and a good cleaner for Jespers revolvers, pastries, a new book that you’d wanted that’d released the weeks before, and a stop at the Ravkan Embassy to get a letter that Genya had sent along, one with updates on things in Ravka, one in search of updates on things in Ketterdam.

“Tired?” Jesper asked.

“Don’t even,” you said, laughing to yourself as you joined him, sitting on your bed to take off the boots you’d worn. You rested your cheek against Jespers shoulder absentmindedly, not even realizing you’d done it until Jesper rested his cheek against the side of your head. “The amount of walking that was done today was entirely my fault, so I brought this on myself, but still.”

Jesper laughed again. “Yeah, fair enough,” he said. “We’ll take tomorrow off. I’ll bring the kettle, the mugs, the tea. We’ll relax in here.”

You grinned as you reached down, untying the laces that’d held your boots together to that point. You pulled the first one off and left it where it was, adjusting your foot so that the tips of your toes were against the floor, the heel of your foot just millimeters away from your bed frame. You stretched your toes, feeling yourself relax as the tenseness and the sore feeling gave way to relief.

You repeated the process with your other foot as Jesper left, returning with a basket. In the basket? Mugs, tea, and a kettle.

You reached out, touching your finger to the kettle and watching with a slight smirk as it filled with water. Jesper grinned at you as you forced yourself to stand on your feet, putting your kefta on a coat rack as Jesper plugged the kettle in and pressed the small button at the bottom of the handle.

“You all right, love?”

Your heart stuttered at the nickname.

“Well and good,” you said. “Feet hurt, is all. Nothing of real concern.”

“We’ll drink tea and hope we’re asleep before sunset but awake after sunrise, then,” Jesper said. “I’ll make sure that Kaz knows we can’t handle much of anything.”

You hummed as you fell onto your bed, head falling against the pillow. “Thank you, Jes.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.”

You hummed again. “Ditto.”

You let your eyes close, listening to Jesper as he talked about the Ice Court. Nothing had been so grandeur, so extravagant, in the days since then. You all took home your cuts of the money. Nina and Matthias had left. Inej took to the seas, Jan Van Eck was arrested and Wylan moved into the old mansion with his mother.

You and Jesper had remained in the Slat, for better or for worse. Jesper paid off his debts and you helped him put some stakes in the markets. He still gambled, by doing that, but it was less gambling, more the act of making investing smartly and cautiously. You had helped him get comfortable in his abilities as a Fabrikator, and as a result, stopped shielding your abilities as a Tidemaker, though it was such a big part of your identity in the beginning.

Jesper passed you a cup of tea after a few minutes, once you’d sat up and positioned your back so it was against the wall, pillow moved to the side so that you avoided sitting on it.

He sat next to you, shoulders touching yours.

“We deserve a few days off, right?” He asked as he cheers’d his mug against yours. “I mean, we haven’t taken a day off since the Ice Court. It’s been months.”

“Kaz will probably allow it,” you said. “After the Ice Court, I made it very clear that if he ever denied me an off day, I would start taking his fingers. I worked off almost dying on the behalf of that bastard. The money made it worth it at the time, yeah, but if he doesn’t want us taking an off day, I’ll rip his bloody head off.”

Jesper sighed, grinning slightly, and a silence draped over the two of you.

It was a silence that acknowledged everything that’d happened the day of the Ice Court. It was a silence that acknowledged the fact that you had come very close to dying, the fact that it’d been Jesper who found you.

It’d been Jesper who found you, Jesper who carried you when the last of the adrenaline left your body and your legs gave out. Jesper had gotten you onto the boat, had been the one to grip your hand like a lifeline while Nina did her best to keep you alive enough to get to Ketterdam in one piece.

It’d been Jesper, the guy who you loved so much that it hurt to think about some nights. Jesper had saved your life that day, had gone through his own grief whilst your survival was still relatively uncertain.

You’d saved one anothers lives constantly in the two years since you’d joined the Dregs. It practically came with the job, and you’d never kept score because of how frequently you saved each others asses.

But, the big times were the ones you remembered. The times where the incident resulted in more than a few cuts in need of stitching, the times where bullets between the Dregs and another rival gang were exchanged, the times where it’d been you to remove the bullet and stitch Jespers wounds, were the ones that you kept in mind always.

The times where Jesper hadn’t shot fast enough and had gotten shot himself, the times where you found yourself faced by two Druskelle and didn’t escape without a few severe bruises and poisoned cuts and stab wounds because the Druskelle had begun poisoning their knives. Those times were the ones you remembered solemnly, the ones where you took a moment to feel grateful that the other was still alive.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d died,” Jesper whispered. “I really don’t. I--”

“You would’ve moved on,” you whispered, taking a sip of your tea. “You would’ve grieved, yeah, but you would’ve moved on eventually. I would’ve been nothing more than a series of fond memories, and as it stands now, I think I’m okay with that.”

“I have to think I may have gone insane,” Jesper whispered. “In theory, I could’ve survived without you, but in actuality? I really don’t think I would’ve made it a week.”

You let yourself grin, meeting his gaze as you rested your cheek on the edge of his shoulder.

“You flatter me, Mr. Fahey.”

Jesper grinned back at you. “Do I?” he asked. “Well, that’s always my goal.”

You laughed, lightly hitting his forearm. “Idiot.”

Jesper scoffed, resting his cheek against your head, free arm coming up to drape itself around your shoulders.

He took a deep breath in, a pause settling over the room for a moment.

“Nerd,” he finally said.

You laughed, rolled your eyes, and took a sip of your tea.

Even if Jesper never knew that you loved him, you could be enormously content in your friendship as it was.

You really could, even if it was just for moments as good as that one.

EIGHTEEN

Jesper was sixteen when he realized that he was in love with you, a year into your being part of the Dregs, a little less than a year into his career of criminality.

He often found himself trying to pinpoint the moment it’d happened, why he’d fallen in love with you at all, but after two years of trying, he found that there were simply too many times where he’d fallen in love without realizing it, too many reasons as to why.

Even still, part of him wondered, trying to find the exact moment, wanting to put the exact day, the exact time, in his mind so that he could commit it to his memory.

Was it the fact that you continued to make jabs at Kaz with only a grin to accompany them? Was it the fact that your bantering came so easily? Could it have been your admirable talents as a Tidemaker, your cadence when you used your small science, the fact that you had accepted it as an extension of yourself where Jesper had never quite found the strength to do so?

Those had all been reasons when he was sixteen, and they were reasons even still. After a while, it felt like a dozen more had been added to that list, though. It’d gone from having three things to at least thirty in the span of two years.

He’d fallen in love with you in what sometimes felt like a blink of time, and he’d been irrevocably, irreparably, in love with you ever since. In spite of it all, he never told you. Some part of him had long accepted that he never would.

So, when you were in Ravka in the last few days before a heist, walking through a town square in Os Alta when violin music pricked Jespers ears, he just grinned. He could handle the life he’d lived as it were. He could handle just being your friend. Really, he could.

The music picked up, and you shot Jesper a grin as people began to dance, some forming small circles throughout the square.

“Look for Nina,” you said. “She, Matthias, and Inej are west of us right now. Wylan is east. She’ll no doubt be pulling them into the crowds the second the music hits her ears. They’ll find us, and we’ll be stuck dancing, hand in hand.”

Kaz had given you the last days before the heist off.

That day, you got the day in full so that you could enjoy some time in your hometown. It’d been a kindness on Kaz’s part, and a demand on yours, and Kaz had known you long enough to know your threats to be the truth if you were provoked.

You’d get the morning of the next day off, too, and Jesper had already found himself excited at the prospect of going to the cafe you always went to whenever you found yourself back in Ravka, claiming that they made the best biscuits and served the best coffee you’d ever tasted.

“You don’t sound like you hate that idea,” Jesper said pointedly as the violin music continued on.

“I don’t. You don’t hear much Ravkan dancing music on violins in Ketterdam. They’re operated by greed, by money and all of the different ways to get rich, even more so the ways to stay rich. If you find yourself in the right Ravkan town, people only care about money when they don’t have enough to make ends meet,” you said. Jesper watched you fill an empty water barrel in passing, watched you liven up a roaring water fountain with only the act of you extending your arm.

“Everyone in my hometown loved it,” you continued, grinning reminiscently. “Oh, before the days of Grisha training, I used to go out with my parents every Saturday. We would walk to the town square, one that, from my memory, didn’t look much different than this one, and we would shop until the violins started. Once they did, we would put our bags with a shopkeeper we trusted and dance until our feet started hurting. I used to love getting to leave the Little Palace on trips, absentmindedly bopping my head to the sound with Nina as we weaved from one shop to the next.”

Jesper found himself grinning. “My mum used to love dancing, too,” he said. “She and my dad used to dance in the kitchen all the bloody time. He had cassettes of dancing music from the Wandering Isle, and they used to dance until they couldn’t because they were laughing. Simpler times, then.”

You shot him a grin, nodding. “Simpler times indeed.”

It wasn’t long before Inej was grabbing your hands whilst Nina grabbed Jespers, pulling the two of you into a circle that was almost the size of the square itself as the music continued.

Jesper, even despite all of his attempts not to, kept finding his eyes trailing to you. He watched you dance, weaving under other people and jumping, taking the hands of those with whom you encountered, allowing yourself to be spun by those when it came time for such a move in the dance itself, and felt his heart lighten.

Eventually, you spun where Jesper walked back six steps, as the dance steps dictated, and he found himself in your company once more.

“Nice moves,” he said, smirk playing at the corners of his lips. You scoffed.

“Better moves from you,” you said. “I’m rusty. Haven’t danced like this in a bit.”

Jesper shrugged, stepping back twice and stepping to the left, stepping forward once. “Couldn’t tell,” he said. “Seriously. You’re a natural at this.”

“Reflex, then,” you said. “I’m using the money we get from the heist to come back around here for a bit.”

“Mind if you have company?”

“I was about to ask if you would enjoy a few weeks in a small Ravkan town, actually,” you laughed, and Jesper registered finally, that he would give up a thousand of all of the sunsets that he would see if it meant he got to hear the sound of your laugh even just one more time before he was never allowed to hear it again. “Would you join me, Jesper?”

“Of course I would,” Jesper said. “Only a fool would pass that up, and I am not a fool.”

A laugh bubbled up from your throat as Jesper spun you, and Jesper allowed himself one as you wrapped your arms around him suddenly, pulling him into a hug for a moment.

Just as quickly as the hug had begun, it ended. Jesper turned to find that you had once again joined the group that laughed and danced in a large circle. He shot you a smirk before joining, interlacing your fingers and registering it. His heart was full. He was content. It was a feeling that Jesper Fahey never wanted to go away.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” Inej asked a few days later. The heist had been successful, and they were on the boat back. “You’re a bloody fool, Jesper.”

Jesper shrugged, leaning against the railing of the boat as he took a sip of his whiskey. “I am not a fool, thank you.”

Inej scoffed. “You’re in love with Y/N L/N, and you’re being a fool about it.”

“I am not, and because I am not, there is nothing about which I can be a fool at the current,” Jesper denied, though he knew that the effort was slightly futile. “I am not in love with them. How dare you.”

“You’re not offended by it because it’s the bloody truth,” Inej rebutted. “Stop being a fool about it. You’re allowed to fall in love with them, Jesper. I honestly thought it would’ve been Nina if it hadn’t been you.”

“I resent you.”

“No you don’t.”

“And if I do?”

“Then stop resenting me long enough to confess your bloody feelings, Jesper,” Inej said. “We can all see it. Stop pretending.”

“And if I say no?”

Inej sighed, clearly exasperated. “Fine, then. Be an idiot. When you lose your chance, though, it’ll be entirely your fault.”

Jesper sighed. “I promise, I’ll tell them, I’m just waiting for the right time. I wanted to tell them in Ravka, but--”

“Don’t you dare call yourself a coward,” Inej said, cutting Jesper off before he had the chance. “Tell them by the time you’re twenty five, if you still love them by then, or you will be stuck paying for the repairs on my boat for all the years you wasted in your silly little mindset of constant yearning.”

Jesper allowed himself a grin. “The deal is the deal.”

“Bloody well it is,” Inej agreed. “Enjoy your whiskey.”

Jesper shrugged, eyes going to the skyline to watch the sun as it disappeared behind the horizon. “I’ll do my best, Captain Ghafa.”

Inej scoffed as she walked away, and Jesper rolled his eyes, grin settling onto his face as he rested his forearms against the railing, content to watch the ocean and the skyline until he grew sick of it.

NINETEEN

You sighed, pulling one of Jespers jumpers onto your torso as you grabbed a book from your night stand, having lit a candle to act as lighting in the moments before.

Jesper had been on a mission you’d been unable to go on because of how injured the last one had left you--a few broken rips, a dislocated wrist that you’d popped back into place and wrapped with the proper bandaging, and a scar across your face that was only healing because of an ointment given to you by a healer, one that they’d made in partnership with a medik to alleviate the pain and heal the scar after three weeks--and the fact that you couldn’t go wasn’t one that you minded at all.

The rest was good, necessary. You’d taken to reading, enjoying Jespers visits when he was around and wearing his sweaters when he wasn’t, but that night was different.

Yearning was something that you rarely experienced. It was that innate, painful desire that you felt pulling down on your heartstrings, something that you were never upset to see go but never quite so shocked when you felt it again, wrapping itself around your shoulders and seeping into your skin, finding its way to your blood before it made itself a home in your heart.

You didn’t know what, exactly, you’d been yearning for, but the book, the candle, Jespers sweater, hadn’t been enough, as it seemed. Nor had the warm bath you’d taken, the bourbon that you’d poured yourself earlier. Even the tea you’d made couldn’t distract you from it.

So, you settled down with your book. You forced yourself to focus on the pages, read until a gust of late summer wind blew past your window and took out the flame in your candle.

You refilled your kettle. You made tea, you drank it as you lit the candle again and closed the window to avoid the breeze, picked up your book and read from where you’d left off, mug of tea in your hand and a change in the time having been the only real changes.

Around four bells that morning, when you’d long blown out the candle, finished your tea, and tried to get to sleep, you gave up. You left your room, headed down to the first floor, and found the bar.

You found Jesper sitting at one of the tables in the din. You ducked underneath the bar whilst trying to make as little sound as possible. You grabbed a glass, grabbed some brandy. When Jesper looked up at the sound and you met his gaze, the yearning you’d been dealing with only intensified, and you realized that the one thing that your heart craved was the one thing that Jesper would never give you.

You wanted him to know how much he’d come to mean to you, wanted him to understand that you’d loved him since you were sixteen and there were no signs that you would ever stop loving him.

“You’re still awake?” Jesper asked.

You hummed. “Couldn’t sleep,” you said. “When I get hurt, I find it impossible. Everything always hurts for the first few weeks. Then the pain dulls out a bit and I return to my normal sleeping habits. How was the heist?”

“Without you, it just wasn’t the same, really,” Jesper said. You watched him get up, watched him move so that he was sitting at the bar counter. “Missed you a lot, if I’m honest.”

“I missed you too.” You poured yourself a glass of brandy, grabbed another and poured Jesper a whiskey. “Tonight kind of sucked, honestly.”

Jesper laughed. “Oh, don’t even get me started.”

You scoffed, took a sip of your brandy where Jesper drank half the whiskey in his glass. “Easy day tomorrow, then?”

“We’re going to brunch. It’s been decided by yours truly, and any attempts to get out of it will be met with bribery to trick you into coming,” Jesper said. “When do we leave for Ravka?”

“Two days.”

“I am so excited,” Jesper said. “A vacation. Haven’t gotten one since we started.”

“We’ve gotten vacation days.”

“A vacation day once in a bloody blue moon is not the same thing as a vacation,” Jesper said. “Three weeks. We’ll be in Ravka for three weeks. No orders from Kaz, no Crow Club patrons who get so drunk that they make fools of themselves by spilling their beer down their shirts, no rival gangs or shitty coffee, nothing but bliss.”

You laughed. “You’ve thought this through.”

“Down to the last minute detail,” Jesper agreed. “Dancing in square is definitely in our cards again, though. That was fun.”

You grinned, remembering that day the year before. “Yeah. It really was.”

“That’s my sweater, isn’t it?” Jesper asked, hands beginning to drum rapidly against the table top. “I’ve been looking for that for an age! I must’ve forgotten having lent it to you.”

“I can give it back, Fahey.”

“Don’t worry too much about it, love,” there it was, the same heart-flutter you always experienced whenever Jesper called you that. “It looks a lot better on you, anyway.”

You snorted, taking another sip of your brandy. “Well, I really should be going.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Jesper said. “See you tomorrow. We’re getting breakfast.”

You laughed. “Bribe me with tea, or I’m not going anywhere!” You called as you walked up the stairs. You heard Jespers laughter in response, finished the brandy and let yourself grin. You walked back to your room, fell into bed and fell asleep soon after.

Over the following weeks, you gave Jesper a tour of your favorite spots in Os Alta. The cafe that you and Nina used to go to whenever you were allowed to go on trips out, the cliffside alcove you’d found, where you loved to watch the sunrise and sunset as it was accompanied by the waves that you held so dearly. You showed him your favorite shops, your favorite places to eat.

You laughed and danced when the violin music inevitably started up from somewhere, and you felt the closest to alive as you had felt since you’d left Ravka, since you’d joined the Dregs, met Jesper, and ended up where you’d been.

The mornings, you found, were becoming one of your favorite parts of your day. You and Jesper would wake and meet one another in the kitchenette in your hotel. You would make tea and Jesper would make coffee.

“What’s on the itinerary for today?” Jesper asked, adjusting the collar of the sweater he’d worn. “I think we relax for a bit. Visit the square for breakfast, find a spot and just exist for a while. I really loved the alcove you showed me last week. Grab a few blankets, a book and some good food, and we’re set to stay there until sunset.”

“That’s perfect. We’ve got some of the food we picked up from the markets yesterday, and I brought along a book as it was. A few, actually. Figured I would need a couple to occupy my time on the boat ride back,” you said. “Any ideas in mind for breakfast?”

“The spot near the eastern side? The one with the forest green overhang with the ketterdam style waffles?”

“Again, Fahey, that’s perfect. You’re perfect.” The words befell your lips before you could think about it, but Jesper only grinned, brushing them with a sarcastic quip.

“I know I am, love. You really don’t need to tell me, though the flattery is welcome.”

“Fool.”

“Best friend of a fool, then,” Jesper rebutted. You laughed, rolled your eyes, grin remaining on your face as you took a sip of your tea.

Thereafter, the both of you got dressed and went out, talking and laughing over breakfast before you grabbed a few blankets and some food to take with you to the alcove.

You spent the day reading and talking, making jokes at one anothers expenses as you always did. You laughed, joked and listened to Jespers voice when, after a while, he began to sing.

When sunset came, he sat next to you, the both of you watching the skyline.

“I love this view,” you said. “I used to love it before the war took over. The Darkling took so much from the citizens of Ravka with the creation of the Fold. Selfishly, I’m really glad that the Shadow Fold didn’t swallow this.”

“As am I,” Jesper said. “It’s beautiful out here. Spending the day here was well worth it. This entire vacation has been, I think.”

You hummed. “I’ve missed it here so much. I left when the war started, and I’ve spent my days yearning to be back here ever since. Ketterdam is incredible, and it is home, certainly, but it is just not this one.”

“I would come here every year, if it was an option,” Jesper said.

You laughed. “With the money we get from heists every year, it may just be. I’m still using the money from the Ice Court.”

There it was again, that catalyst. The one thing that could bring you both to silence, remembering that series of events and feeling intense gratefulness as you remembered that both of you had made it out, even if you had done so critically injured.

“I really would’ve lost it had you died,” Jesper whispered. “I would’ve been worse than Kaz’s nightmares. I would’ve ripped every single Druskelle in the Ice Court to shreds.”

“You wouldn’t’ve,” you said. “You just fancy the idea.”

“I would’ve,” Jesper said. “I don’t think I could manage a life without you in it, seriously.

“Do you aim to flatter me?”

“Always,” Jesper said. “You look cute when you’re flustered.”

You snorted, eyes going to the sunset. “Thank you, Jesper.”

“For what?”

“For saving my life that day. For saving my life so many times in the days since.”

“Always,” Jesper said.

You grinned.

“Always,” you echoed.

TWENTY

“Stop calling me an idiot,” you laughed, arm in arm with Nina as the two of you walked down Fifth Harbor. “Seriously. I’m not an idiot.”

“Only an idiot would fall in love with their best friend and still, even after five years, persist in their efforts to avoid telling him anything.”

“I’m only slightly idiotic,” you gave. Nina laughed.

“At least you see it, then.”

You shrugged as Nina opened the door belonging to the Kooperom. “I like to think I’m at least slightly self aware.”

She laughed again, unlinking your arms as the two of you approached the table, where Jesper, Wylan, Inej and Matthias already sat. Kaz sat down a solid second and a half before you did, almost making you jump in fear when you noticed his presence.

“What are you two discussing?” Wylan asked.

You shrugged, thanking Jesper as he mentioned that he’d ordered you a tea. “Nothing of real importance.”

“Nothing of real importance sure does create a fair bit of laughter,” Wylan said pointedly.

“Well, Nina has always been quite humorous,” Inej offered. You shot her a grateful look, which she only returned with a knowing smile.

From there, someone picked up the conversation, and your little exchange was forgotten. You and Jesper laughed, joked and drank more tea and coffee than what could possibly be considered the healthy amount.

“And then, there is the matter of Nina and Matthias’ wedding,” Wylan said. The matter brought you back into the conversation, ripped you from your reverie as you grinned. Nina and Matthias had been engaged for two months. Their wedding was to be ten months from then, a small ceremony that they were planning to have in Ravka. “Ten months out, Ravka, open bar, are you excited?”

Wylans words got Nina into a ramble, but you listened happily. Nina had been your best friend whilst you both lived in the Little Palace. Even despite the general clique-ness of the different orders, you always found yourselves together when your instructors granted you permission to go into the cities. She was one of the last people you’d seen before Genya had bought the boat ticket, had shipped you off to Ketterdam in the hope that you would’ve found a better life whilst things looked bleak rather than hopeful.

Eventually, the conversation shifted.

“Anything from Genya in recent?” Jesper asked, knowing that the two of you still sent letters through the Ravkan embassy.

“Nothing of importance,” you said. Nothing pertaining to anything that could’ve mattered to anyone aside from Nina. Information about Grisha that you’d helped free and get back to Ravka, back to the Little Palace, where they were safe and harm wasn’t a thing that was coming to them. “Minor stuff, about which I’ll update Nina on in a while, but no. Nothing that matters, if I can be honest.”

“If it matters to you, it matters to me.”

“And you say you aren’t in love with them,” Wylan said, shooting Jesper a teasing grin. He laughed, and you laughed, neither of you acknowledging the desire to verify the claim or deny it. “That might just be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard you say, and I’ve seen you flirt your way into several drinks.”

You shook your head, grin on your face. “You’ll have to teach me, then.”

“This from the person who’s an expert at it? I watched you flirt a shopkeeper into a free bag of toffees for Nina whilst we were in Ravka last year, and just last week, you charmed your way into a free stack of waffles.”

“Which we split!”

“Yeah, and thank you for the mostly free breakfast, but you’re not the student, Y/N. You’re the bloody teacher.”

“I learned it from the best.”

“There it is again! The charms! I will not be beguiled by you over waffles.”

You shrugged. “Much too late now, isn’t it?”

Jesper laughed, bringing his coffee cup to his lips. “May as well be, I suppose.”

Inej shot you a knowing look once more. “We’ve somehow just discovered there are three flirts in this group rather than two! Wonderful, I might say.”

“I’m not a flirt, I’m just very convincing.”

Jesper snorted. “Yeah, like the time you convinced the shopkeeper to give you chocolates on a bet?”

“Kaz paid me a thousand kruge. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“Those chocolates weren’t worth the thousand kruge they cost me,” Kaz rumbled. “Never again. I would offer 250 kruge, at best.”

“250 kruge is still 250 kruge,” you said, shrugging.

The food was brought out, all of you ate, and breakfast was done. You walked back to the Slat with Jesper on your right, neither of you saying much of anything as you moved.

You got back to the Slat, retiring to your rooms with Jesper discussing the next heist. You grinned as you grabbed a book off of your nightstand. Even if he wasn’t your boyfriend, he really did make you feel like you were incredibly lucky to be able to call him a friend nonetheless.

You sighed as you woke, registering the sound of the waves through the open window, the scent that Jesper carried with him, the smell of cedarwood and gun smoke.

You knew it because you knew him, and you were almost entirely sure that you would know him in death. You would know him until you physically could not know him anymore, until the sound of his voice was forgotten by your ears and the distinctiveness of his scent was forgotten by your nose.

“Is everyone--” You found yourself trying to speak, though those were the only words you could manage before Jesper butted in. You couldn’t remember much, though you knew that there had been an explosion, and that, when you were to return to Ketterdam, you would likely never be allowed to set foot in the Wandering Isle ever again. Even despite Kaz’s best efforts, the heist had still gone sideways.

“They’re fine. Everyone is fine,” Jesper whispered. “Most of us had made it out before the explosion hit. The only other injuries we have on board are Nina and her sprained finger, Inejs dislocated shoulder, and a couple of painful bruises. Matthias popped Inejs shoulder back into place, the medik helped Ninas hand well enough. We’re all fine, Y/N. Everything is okay.”

You blinked slowly, found yourself wanting to close your eyes and rest them even still. You were awake, and though you knew that you should’ve been aiming to stay that way, you still wanted sleep. You practically yearned for it.

Jesper grabbed your hand delicately.

“Stop treating me like I’m an eggshell. I won’t break if you don’t be gentle enough, Jesper.”

“You almost lost your left lung. The bruises you sustained are some of the worst bruises the medik had ever seen, and even Nina, the optimist, was unsure if you’d make it. You’re not fine, and I will hold your hand as gently as I please to do so.”

“I resent you.”

“No, you don’t,” Jesper rebutted. “You love me.”

You hummed. He was right. You loved him, but he would never know the fullest extent to which you did.

“Thank you for saving my life,” you said.

“If you’d died, I would’ve ripped everyone to shreds. Kaz included.”

You grinned, let your eyes close. “Are you okay if I rest? Just for a bit, of course.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be one focused on conversation. Sleep as much as you need.”

“Stay, Jesper. Please.”

“Always.”

TWENTY-ONE

In the year after the heist that had resulted in an explosion, things had gone well. You recovered well, visited a healer to see to the worst of your bruises but kept the scars you got from the shrapnel that scraped past your body on it’s way to the ground, the pieces of glass that embedded themselves in your skin from the windowpanes.

Trips to Ravka became semi-annual. You and Jesper had begun going every other year, and on the final day of August, you returned to Ketterdam after a month spent in Ravka and another spent in Novyi Zem, visiting Jespers father for the month because it’d been a while since they’d seen one another.

“You look happy,” Nina noted with a grin as the two of you arrived in the Kooperom. “Well rested, overjoyed, even happy, dare I say, to be back in Ketterdam after so long without being here.”

“I’ve missed it, I will say,” Jesper said as the two of you sat down. “Ketterdam is a second home. I’ll miss it when I go, I think.”

“You intend to leave permanently?” Wylan asked.

“Not at all, for the moment,” Jesper said, but you found yourself recalling the many conversations you’d had about such an idea.

Both of you knew that Ketterdam had morphed itself into a home in the six years since you’d begun living there, but you also knew that Ketterdam may not have always felt like that. You discussed leaving, going either as an individual or leaving Ketterdam as a pair, and in the end, both of you realized that you probably wouldn’t be. Ketterdam was a home, and until you began to grow sick of it, leaving would only ever be a consideration, perhaps never more than an idea.

“Good,” Wylan hummed. “I would grow to miss watching you pine after someone you could have if you only asked.”

“I would do the same,” Nina said, elbowing your arm lightly. You and Jesper both laughed. When a waiter came around, you ordered yourself a tea, and you and Jesper got a stack of waffles to split. Conversation began, and through the breakfast, it continued easily.

You and Jesper fell back into your same rhythm, talking and finding the conversation jumbled with jabs and banter, sarcasm dotted amongst it like almost all of your conversations were. The conversations with Jesper came easily, just as they had for as long as you’d known him.

“I do think it would be good idea to go back to Novyi Zem,” you said. “I loved it there. It was a wonderful time.”

“My father certainly wouldn’t mind your company again,” Jesper agreed.

“You’ve gotten yourself the Colm Fahey stamp of approval?” Nina asked, shooting you a devious grin with a look in her eye to match it. “Ah, I hear that such thing is rather difficult to come by.”

Jesper shrugged his shoulders. “He likes the lot of you well enough, apparently, and Y/N is a wonderful person, so it wasn’t really shocking, if I’m honest. I figured he would’ve liked them.”

Nina shot you a look, and you rolled your eyes. You already knew what she was doing. She’d been trying to do it for four years.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Jesper said. “Seriously. Last words before we left? He told me to come again in winter. Almost tempted to take him up on that offer, thought about it a lot on the boat. Christmas in Novyi Zem is glorious, albeit not nearly as snowy as Ketterdam.”

You gave Jesper a grin. “I would love that, as long as we’re not intruding.”

Jesper shook his head. “He told me that he wouldn’t’ve minded if you came around again, too. Said that he thought you were good for me.”

“He told me the same. Said we seemed to be good for each other, if the amount of laughing we accomplished in contrast to the work on the farm was of any real indication,” you said, laughing slightly. “Oh, those days were fun. The jurda was good, too.”

“Eh, well, you can count on my father to get the first of his seed batches from good sellers,” Jesper agreed. “Made me bring some of it back, in case we were ever on night scouts for Kaz and need a kick to keep us up.”

“I’ll thank him when we go next, then.”

“November,” Jesper said. “Come back around early January. I’ll write to let him know we’ve taken him up on his offer.”

You grinned. “I can’t wait, then.”

Nina and Wylan both shot you looks that time, and you noticed the look that Inej shot Jesper, but such glances were ones that you both seemed keen on ignoring.

The breakfast finished up, and you and Jesper went in your separate ways. You went to the Crow Club to pick up a shift behind the bar, and Jesper went back to the Slat to enjoy his final day before he was back to bartending, per Kaz’s request.

Jesper found you nine hours later, mug of tea in hand as you sat on your windowsill, watching the sunset as it dawned across Ketterdam.

“Hey,” he said. You turned to look at him, gaze meeting his easily. “Figured you would be watching the sunset, though I will say, I did figure you’d be watching from Inej’s port at Fifth Harbor.”

“I wanted to have a night in, Jesper. Is that so criminal?”

“Not so criminal as our past actions, such as the many heists that we’ve helped Kaz pull off, the many heists that’ve resulted in you almost dying. It’s the two year anniversary of the explosion. I figured you would be thinking about that day, the days of the other heists in which you almost died, at some point. When we got back, I was almost anticipating it,” Jesper said. “You’re allowed to be upset with him, Y/N. Even as much as you’ve repressed that in the past few years. You’re allowed to be upset with the misgivings of those days.”

“I really don’t like that you can read me so well.”

“You love it, Y/N,” Jesper said. You scoffed.

“Fine, yes. I am thinking about it. And yes, Jesper. I thought about the Ice Court while I was working. I almost cut off three of Brekkers fingers for the miscalculations from that day. Thinking of it now, there is a part of me that wants to kill him even still,” you said. “But I will not, because he is my best friend, one of the only people in this city that I have found myself ready and willing to care about apart from you, and I understand that people can make mistakes sometimes and that the worst of those mistakes can be fatal.”

“I screamed at him on the boat,” Jesper said. “On the way back to Ketterdam from the Ice Court. I screamed at him because I thought it was reckless. I thought he was reckless, I told him that your life was worth more than all the money in the world and I berated him for not recognizing that.”

Jesper had known what would’ve happened if you’d died at the Ice Court. He knew it well enough because of how frequently the thought had come up. He would’ve become twice the ruthless man that Kaz was. He would’ve been broken, irrevocably and irreparably broken, and he would’ve killed every Druskelle that ever stepped foot in Ketterdam for any reason, regardless of what it happened to be.

“You matter more to me than anyone else, Y/N, and it’s quite so simple as that. I would tear the world apart just to find you in it’s depths. You should never expect less than that from me.”

Jesper watched you move, sitting on your bed with your mug of tea still in hand. He turned to go, stopped when he heard your voice.

“Stay,” you whispered. “I can’t be alone right now. Please, just stay.”

“Yeah,” Jesper agreed.

TWENTY-TWO

Since the anniversary of the heist in the Wandering Isle, you and Jesper seemed closer, an unspoken understanding having draped across the two of you at a point which neither of you could pin.

“You’re a lovesick idiot, is what you are,” Kaz said as he, Kaz, Inej, and Wylan approached a new, Dregs owned cafe that you’d purchased and helped run on Fifth Harbor. The waffles that were made by the cooks had been hand-picked recipes from a combination of different people in the Dregs, the coffee strong and the tea always made with two bags instead of one. “It’s about time you told them, don’t you think? Have you not found the right time after five bloody years?”

“No,” Jesper said. “That’s normal, though.”

“It’s not,” Wylan piped up. “It’s the opposite. Most people can only stand to pine for a year or two.”

“I’m different than most, I suppose.”

“In that you’re a lovesick idiot,” Kaz continued. “The Jesper I knew five years ago would’ve flirted his way into confessing the way he felt about Y/N by accident at seventeen years old and be engaged by now, in the least. You’re lovesick, idiotic, and you yearn like nobody I have ever seen.”

“What if they don’t--”

“They do,” Inej spoke. “You’re just oblivious, Jes. It comes with the whole lovesick thing.”

“It does not,” Jesper said.

“So then you admit to being lovesick?” Inej asked.

“I do not,” Jesper responded.

“He did,” Wylan said. “He just admitted it by accident. Congrats, Fahey. You’ve been in love with the same person for five years and haven’t done anything. Would you like an award?”

“I’ll take a free coffee,” Jesper rebutted.

“If you confess by the end of this week, Kaz will pay for the coffee you put in your coffee press for the next six months, and I’ll bring bourbon back from my voyages for you for the next year.”

“What if I don’t find the right time?”

“You will,” Kaz said. “Five years, and the right time is just waiting to be found, Jesper. I guarantee it.”

Jesper found himself at your side when the sun went down, the two of you drinking brandy as you talked. The conversation bounced from one thing to the next, and suddenly, you and Jesper found yourselves draped in silence.

It dawned on Jesper quickly. He’d waited five years to have the right time to confess. The right time was then. It had to have been, or Jesper felt entirely sure that he was going to explode, scream it from a rooftop so as to finally be able to say the words.

So, Jesper took a deep breath in. He took a sip of his coffee to psych himself out of nervousness, and when he met your gaze, he found that you were smiling.

“Can I tell you something?” Jesper asked.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your brandy. “Shoot, Jes.”

“I’m in love with you,” Jesper whispered. “I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen years old, and I just never--I could never figure out how to say it. I wanted to find the right time but then I never did.”

Your gaze moved to your glass of brandy, grin beginning to pull at the right corner of your lip. Jesper watched a grin overtake your face, though you said nothing even still.

“I love you too, Jesper,” you whispered after a few minutes had passed. “I love so much that it used to hurt to think about. I have loved you almost as long as I have known you, and hearing you say that to me was a shock because I never thought you could’ve felt the same.”

Jesper grinned, laugh falling from his lips as you finished the brandy. “We’re both idiots,” he said. You nodded.

“We are, aren’t we?”

Jesper finished his brandy, set the glass on the floor to his right. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.”

In the next second, Jespers lips are on yours, and you notice that he tastes like gum, brandy and cigarettes.

When your lips meet Jespers, he tastes brandy, waffles, and a hint of the mint gum you chewed while you were working.

The thing that the both of you had in common in that moment was the relief that flooded your every sense, overtaken only by the joy that befell you both mere moments later.

Jesper pulled away, pressed his forehead against yours, grinning as he fought the urge to lean back in.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” you responded.

And, in that moment, Jesper was sure that his life was entirely too perfect, but he let himself enjoy it. He deserved a little perfection from time to time, and he let himself take it when you pressed your lips against his and his heart became so light that it could’ve floated out of his body and Jesper wouldn’t’ve cared because of how happy he’d been.

#jesper fahey #jesper fahey x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone

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longroadstonowhere · 2 years ago

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okay, after approximately.... seventeen hours? something along those lines (did, you know, have to do the occasional work task and, like, eat and get water obviously), i’m putting down the game for the night - got to a point where i didn’t immediately have an interesting task in front of me and needed to make a stopping point for myself

i’m gonna put a cut here and do some freewheeling thoughts on tears of the kingdom thus far, but generally it suffices to say that i am having a good time

first of all, i’m really glad i played age of calamity somewhat recently, because it gave me little bits of character info that i honestly would’ve completely forgotten without it - namely that teba had a son who was one of the tiny birds in the last game

anyway it really feels like they took the notes/complaints about breath of the wild’s story to heart, cuz god damn is there a healthy amount of story here, especially with them bringing back sages and temples and such - for posterity’s sake, i have completed the wind temple, and am on my way to death mountain for what i assume will be the fire temple; should be interesting to see who the sage is, since we got a little curveball from the ritos not making it teba (so now i’m thinking yunobo or someone else? and the someone else is a little more likely)

okay also for posterity’s sake - i have gotten four glyph memories, which i assume they’re assigned to the glyph and not given in a particular order, so i got the intro one (zonai), the castle, the demon king, and the sword; i’ve also done precisely 1 (one) chasm visit and started my job at the lucky clover, as well as completing enough shrines to get up to eight hearts with enough orbs currently on my person to get something, and i uncovered the demon statue under hyrule, as well

sad they’re not letting me play as zelda, but also love that she is literally an actual part of the imprisoning war from ten thousand years ago, like yup nope the zelda in that mural was in fact the exact same zelda who was critiquing and comparing herself to that perfect image of, it turns out, herself

like fucking hell i just love the character beats there, and hopefully some amount of that gets discussed on screen, cuz damn

oh, right, by the way, if i had a nickel for every time a dead king guided me through a great ____ zone i’d have two nickels - i kid, i kid, i really liked king rauru (which!! king rauru what?!?!? aaaaaaa my zelda lore brain is firing off all the time) bamfing around and actually, like, guiding us? like he doesn’t really quite know more than we do, he’s just more familiar with how the land works and such

... now that i’m thinking about it, though, how the hell did we end up where we did? like i was jokingly complaining to myself about how we were literally just shoved in a random room (on the floor), as opposed to breath of the wild where we were intentionally brought to an advanced piece of restorative technology, but also, rauru didn’t have a corporeal form? how was he able to replace my arm? and how did i get in that room????

guess that’ll be one for the zelda youtubers - oh, wait, right! i was gonna make this joke like fourteen hours ago, but i loved the opening bit where zelda is just like the zelda lore youtubers i watch sometimes, where she’s just excitedly pointing at things and going ‘!!! this is cool! i don’t actually know what’s going on entirely but it��s cool!!!’ like yes, love that for you darling, i will like comment and subscribe every moment you’re on screen doing what you love

let’s see... oh, the gameplay is pretty excellent, even if i keep dying because i’m bad at fighting without all my special powers (and because i couldn’t find a shirt for so damn long, like i know that was just luck probably but still), and the new magic abilities are fascinating - it’s interesting how they’re both more and less expansive than the previous set (like with the attaching things power, you can pick up anything not just metal stuff like you could with magnesis, but without cryonis water is way more terrifying cuz none of the other powers can really do anything about water by themselves)

fav so far is the ‘swim upward through solid objects’ one because ya know i love to climb things, and it’s really fun to have an escape clause on, like, most caves and a lot of other places (i think i used it a fair amount in the wind temple just to get away from dudes)

i haven’t made very many vehicles, because when i make stuff for movement i feel bad about abandoning it out in the wilderness but also sometimes you just gotta cut that corner and jump off the cliff (which, gods, it took so long to get the paraglider and i was so happy when it finally dropped into my hands) - this is how i felt about horses in the first game, although i’ve actually ridden a couple horses around this time

you know what i have done what feels like fifty times? supported president hudson, that’s what - actually it’s a really fun and simple engineering puzzle that i’m glad shows up again and again, but by gods i wanna take addison’s hands and just go ‘why didn’t you guys just make the sign stable to start with??’

it’s been very cool seeing how the world has changed, both with recovery after breath of the wild and with the stuff falling from the sky at the start of this game, although i think what fascinates me the most is that no one’s actually said (or even implied) exactly how long it’s been either since botw ended OR since link and zelda disappeared on their archaeological survey - like i have no idea if link was out for days, weeks, or months honestly (my guess is like three weeks but who knows!)

negative things... not a fan of how often i died, and it took me way longer to figure out how to use the zonai wings than it should have, i wish there’d been a slightly better explanation at some point, and i wish i’d gotten the latest memory i found (the sword one) later in the quest line, cuz it feels very resolution-y and while it’s occasionally fun to get these things as an almost in media res conclusion, in this particular instance i’d rather have just seen it later

the whole geoglyphs concept is super awesome, though, that was a fantastic addition and really rewards the whole flying around the sky thing that this game is really about

can’t wait to get through the rest of the major story beats so i can spend the next few months just dicking around

but first sleep

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captainmarsupial · 2 months ago

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surveys cause i'm booooored.

i did two. haha

[One] Who is your last text from? toni.

[Two] Where was your default picture taken? lol none of my default pictures are of myself.

[Three] What's your middle name? secrettttt.

[Four] Your current relationship status(married or not)? unmarried.

[Five] Does your crush like you back? i don’t have a crush on anybody…that knows me anyway. HAHAHAH

[Six] What is your current mood? neutral? i guess i have the sunday scaries though. =(

[Seven] What's your mom's name? secret~

[Eight] What color shirt are you wearing? gray.

[Ten] If you could go back in time and change something, would you? sigh i guess yeah.

[Eleven] Do you like drinking tea? yes.

[Twelve] Ever had a near death experience? kinda.

[Thirteen] Something you do a lot? be on that damn phone!!

[Fifteen] Who can you tell anything to? i guess toni? i don’t think i tell her everrryyyything though.

[Sixteen] Name someone with the same birthday as you? macaulay culkin. lmao. and queen keke palmer!

[Seventeen] When was the last time you cried? i cried explaining the lore of one of my choral pieces for our next concert.

[Eighteen] How many people have you kissed? four? maybe five??

[Nineteen] If you could be one super hero, who would it be? the one that has the most chill job. hahah

[Twenty] What's the first thing you notice about the opposite/same sex? Opposite- hair. Same- smile :P.

[Twenty-one] What do you usually order from starbucks? i haven’t been to starbucks in hella long. i think the last thing i got from there was a pumpkin drink.

[Twenty-two] What's your biggest secret? I’M NOT TELLING YOU!

[Twenty-three] Favorite color? i’ve been more into green lately.

[Twenty-five] Do you still watch kiddy movies or tv shows? sometimes. i still watch a lot of spongebob clips lol.

[Twenty-six] What are you eating or drinking at the moment? nothing.

[Twenty-seven] Do you speak any other language? not fluently.

[Twenty-eight] What's your favorite smell? i really like autumn scents, like cinnamon, pumpkin, apple. also eucalyptus!

[Twenty-nine] Describe your life in one word what would it be? boring.

[Thirty] Have you ever kissed in the rain? uhhh, idr.

[Thirty-two] What are you thinking about right now? trying to remember if i’ve ever kissed anyone in the rain LMAO.

[Thirty-three] What should you be doing? this is fine.

[Thirty-four] Who was the last person that made you upset/angry? probably some comment online.. -_- i’m working on that.

[Thirty-five]Who was the last person you kissed? some guy i don’t talk to anymore. lmao

[Thirty-six] Do you like working in the yard? ehh, depends on my mood.

[Thirty-seven] If you could have any last name in the world, what would it be? LOL…mine is fine.

[Thirty-eight] Do you act differently around the person you like? i don’t like anybody.

[Thirty-nine] What is your natural hair color? dark brown.

[Forty] Who was the last person to make you cry? not anyone directly.

1) How old do you look? i think lately i look my age.

2) Where do you live? california.

3) Are you waiting for something? waiting for next weekend!

4) What's one pet peeve of yours that is not common? when i’m eating with someone and i hear the silverware hitting their teeth.

5) Last myspace message you received, what'd it say? I MISS MYSPACE.

6) Can you handle the truth? if i have to, yeah.

7) Did you cry today? almost, while watching spring camp lmao.

8) Do you hate the last person you had a conversation with? no.

9) Do you have kids? no.

10) Have you ever thought about converting your religion? yes.

11) Last shocking news you heard? probably politics-related.

12) What was the last thing you drank? water.

13) Last person you hugged? niki!

14) Who do you most look like in your family? people say i’m a 50/50 mix, but i think i look more like my dad.

15) Did you dream last night? yes but i forgot what about.

16) How many piercings do you have? seven.

17) If you could have something right now, anything, what would it be? not saying my first answer, but my realistic answer is more money.

18) Does anyone call you babe? a few of my friends.

19) Where does most of your family live? california & the philippines.

20) Where did you grow up? the bay bay bay!

21) Where do you want to go on vacation? lots of places in asia. japan, south korea, taiwan, the philippines, singapore…

22) Have you broken a bone? apparently when i was really young i broke my collarbone.

23) What did you receive for Valentine's Day? nothing, but i did go to dinner with a couple of my fellow single ladies. lol

24) Have you ever had a panic attack? yes.

25) Can you sleep in jeans? bleeehhh, no.

26) What can't you wait for? camping next weekend!

27) When's the last time you told someone you loved them and meant it? either yesterday or the day before.

28) Have your parents ever smoked pot? i know for sure my dad has tried an edible & prrrobably smoked pot. my mom, definitely not. hahah

29) Want someone back in your life? yeah.

30) Do you live near your most recent ex? kind of?

31) Are you good at giving directions? i’d like to think so lmao.

32) What do you order at the bar? coke & hennessy or pineapple & hennessy lol

33) When was the last time you cried really, really hard? definitely recently.

34) Who was your last text from? toni, telling me the quality of braggs apple cider vinegar got worse.

35) Ever licked someone's cheek? not sure.

36) what is your favorite thing to eat with peanut butter? bread!

37) Where were you on July 4th, 2007? probably in my room on my computer LOL.

38) What body part(s) do you wash first in the shower? hair.

39) Have you ever kissed anyone who's name started with a D? yes.

40) Do you prefer warm or cold weather? cold~

41) What do you currently hear right now? my ceiling fan.

42) Does someone like you right now? i don’t think so.

43) Could you go out in public looking like you do now? no lol.

44) What are your nicknames? dom is my nickname.

45) On the opposite sex where do you like them to have piercings? ears is fine, but i kind of prefer none. hahah

46) If you could go any place in the world right now where would you go? anywhere the weather is fine.

47) Have you ever made someone so mad that they broke something? no.

48) Have you ever kissed someone and hated it? not in the moment!

49) What is your favorite color? green lately, & marigold!

50) If you could go back in time, how far back would you go? i’d go back to the mid/late 2000s so i could use myspace & aim again.

#survey

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zephyrusislost · 9 months ago

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All the lonely people

Chapter 1. Snowfall

In his first life, Regulus Black had died alone.

And now, seventeen years into his second life, he has almost everything that he'd ever wished for last time.

In the small town of New Roselle, Adrastor Snow was the keeper for an ancient graveyard standing beside the even more ancient church. Since the ripe age of ten, Regulus Snow had been learning the trade from his father, in bite sized pieces. Newly graduated from high school now, he can take over, and Adrastor can finally rest.

Objectively, Regulus liked his second life better than his first. His parents, Lysandra and Adrastor Snow, were kind and doting. He could see his whole life planned out ahead, with people that knew and had no problems with him. All in all, very pleasant, very tame.

On the first day of his father's retirement, Regulus trekked the whole five minutes from his home to the graveyard, and unlocked the heavy ornate gates seven minutes before nine o'clock. He checked off his morning tasks at a pace comparable to a sloth: unlock the office, check the mail, water the bushes, clean up any rubbish and dead flowers, then finally, sit in his little swinging chair and stare off at nothing. Just fine and dandy.

The first few people dribble in just as he'd settled down. They don't ever talk to him, and don't usually even look at him. Regulus respects that. They're here to grieve, and sometimes, Regulus feels like he is too.

Despite passing these same people in the streets, in the shops, the church, for numerous years, he doesn't know most of their names. Doesn't feel the flash of familiarity when he sees their faces.

Niki from the bakery came by at noon. She was lovely to Regulus - his parents had even tried to set them up on a date once - but he was a shadow of a human being who was unable to form connections with anyone anymore. Niki laid pastel yellow flowers by her grandmothers grave, then came to sit next to Regulus, procuring a sourdough loaf that fit perfectly into her cupped hands.

"For you, darling. I was trying some new scoring patterns and this one didn't turn out too well. Still tastes good though." Niki was so kind, so good.

"Thank you, Niki. I'm sure mother and father would like it."

"And what about you?" Niki smiled shyly.

"Of course."

In his second life, Regulus doesn't feel as deeply, doesn't care as much.

Every shift is a graveyard shift when you're in an actual graveyard. That's awful and also poetic for Regulus, because he has been missing his sun. And just about every single little fucking thing that he once had. It's become a little pathetic.

His life now is good. Picture perfect, and happy. Like something out of a novel that Regulus had randomly picked up in the muggle studies section of the Hogwarts library, and secretly enjoyed thoroughly. Maybe living in it would be perfect, if he didn't remember his life as Regulus Black. If mentally, he wasn't still back there, wishing for this mundane life as an escape.

Regulus Black had been quiet, but someone had listened to every word that he said. He was cold and untouchable, but surrounded by people who cared, who tried.

Under the fading blue sky and setting sun, Regulus Snow could speak all he wanted to an empty graveyard, and only the deceased would pretend to listen.

Father Mackenzie's Sunday church services were not very popular. The old man still does his thing as usual, what else can he do anyway? By far, the most exciting things that the church ever sees are weddings, followed by funerals. But in a small town, those are few and far in between.

Regulus attends every Sunday, only for his parents. He doesn't think they'll mind much if he stops going, but doesn't really have enough resolve to break the routine. After the service, some will visit their loved ones in the graveyard. Some won't. Either way, it's usually empty when Regulus returns. This time, it's not.

Two guys, not much older than Regulus, are in his swinging couch as he arrives. They're talking, laughing, and eating baguettes. That's fine, it's a public place. Regulus heads back to his little office. Now would be a good time to write the order for some new flower seeds anyways, his father was a practical man, but this sad little corner of the world was now his pride and life's work, so it should be at least somewhat nice.

He stays in there until five twenty, and closes the gates almost half an hour late, because he lost track of time researching the meanings of different flowers, the conditions they need to grow, and what time of year they would bloom.

As sad as it sounds, Regulus doesn't think he would mind dying alone in his second life too.

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meg-moira · 4 years ago

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The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind

Sequel to Eindred and the Witch

In which Severin, the golden eyed witch, learns that his greatest enemy and truest love is fated to kill him.

Dealing in prophecies is a dubious work. Anyone who knows anything will tell you as much.

“Think of all of time as a grand tapestry,” his great-grandmother had said, elbow deep in scalding water. Her hands were tomato red, and Severin watched with wide golden eyes as she kneaded and stretched pale curds in the basin. “You might be so privileged to understand a single weave, but unless you go following all surrounding threads, and the threads around those threads, and so on - which, mind you, no human can do - you’ll never understand the picture.”

Severin, who was ten years old and had never seen a grand tapestry, looked at the cheese in the basin and asked if his great-grandmother could make the analogy about that instead.

“No,” she replied. “Time is a tapestry. Cheese is just cheese.”

And that was that.

By fifteen, Severin who was all arms, legs, and untamable black hair, decided he hated prophecies more than anything in the world. He occupied himself instead with long walks atop the white bluffs well beyond his family’s home. Outside, he could look at birds, and talk to the wind, and not think about the terrible prophecy which followed him like a shadow.

His second eldest sister had revealed it - accidentally, of course. Severin lived in a warm and bustling house with his great-grandmother, grandmother, mother, two aunts, and three sisters. All of whom were generously gifted in the art of foretelling (a messy business, each would say if asked), and every one of them had seen Severin’s same bleak thread.

He would die. Willingly stabbed through the heart by his greatest enemy and truest love.

Willingly. That was the worst part, he thought.

Severin, who had no talent in the way of prophecies, but plenty of talent in the realm of wind and sky, marched along the well-worn trail, static sparking around his fingertips as the brackish sea breeze nipped consolingly at his face and hair.

I will protect you if you ask me to, it blustered, and Severin was comforted.

He didn’t care who this foretold stranger was. When this enemy-lover appeared, Severin would ask the wind to pick them up and take them far, far away. Far enough that they could never harm him. The wind whistled in agreement. And so it was settled.

At seventeen, he was still all arms and legs, though his eldest sister had managed to tame his hair with a respectably sharp pair of shears. The wind, who had delighted in playing with his wild, tangled locks, did not thank her for it. Severin did thank her; in fact, he’d asked her to do it. He was of the opinion that his newly shorn hair made him look older - more sophisticated. And he left his family home with a new cloak draping his shoulders and a knotted wooden walking stick in hand, thinking himself very nearly a man. He was far from it, of course. But there was no telling him that.

He set out on a clear, cool morning to find his own way in the world, and was prepared to thoroughly deal with anyone who so much as dared to act ever so slightly in the manner of enemy or lover.

He discovered, soon enough, that this was not a practical attitude to take when venturing into the world. Severin spent his first months away from home making little in the way of friends and plenty in the way of thoroughly baffled enemies.

When you meet his gaze, you’ll know, the wind chided as it whisked in and out of his hood.

“His?” Severin said aloud, lifting a single dark brow. “Do you know something I don’t?”

The wind whistled noncommittally in answer.

The wind did know something, as it turned out. At twenty, Severin stood on the warm, sun-loved planks of a dock. As gulls cried overhead, he pressed his fingers to his lips. The young sailor had touched his lips to Severin’s in a swift, carefree kiss before departing on the sea. And though the feeling was pleasant enough, Severin knew that his enemy-lover was not on the great ship cleaving a path through the cerulean waves.

“When I meet his gaze, I’ll know,” Severin said, golden eyes sweeping the horizon. The seaward breeze blustered in such agreement that the gulls overhead cried out in alarm.

What will you do? The wind asked, delighting in whipping the gulls into a proper frenzy.

“Get rid of him, of course,” Severin replied.

What if you don’t want to?

Severin thought that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. “He’s going to stab me through the heart. Why in the world wouldn’t I want to get rid of him?”

People are foolish, the wind answered, shrugging the nearby sails.

“Not me.” Severin leaned on his stick and looked out at the sea. “I won’t let anyone get away with stabbing my heart.”

When he was twenty-two, Severin knelt at the bedside of a withered, wilting woman. She was a stranger, but the town’s herb witch was away, and Severin happened to be passing through. Though his true strength would always remain with the wind and the sky, the youngest of Severin’s two aunts had a special way with plants, and she’d taught him a fair bit about the many healing properties of the region’s hardy, windblown flora.

He boiled water, adding the few herbs he carried to make a rejuvenating tea. He helped the woman drink, his hand supporting her head and fingers tangling in her sweat drenched hair. After, he pressed a cool cloth to her head, and in the half dark room, she murmured, sharing delirious fears that she would accidentally speak cruel dying words and lay a curse upon him.

Kindly stroking her forehead, Severin assured her that he was not afraid of curses. Even uttered by the dying, a true curse was rarer than the superstitious soldier’s and barbarians liked to believe. Besides, she wasn’t going to die. Severin, who’d seen just enough of the world to have a taste of wisdom, was certain he could save her.

She died within the day.

Whether her condition had been beyond help, or Severin lacked the skills to twist the herbs to his bidding, he would never know. The wind rustled reassurances through the sparsely-leaved trees, but Severin was beyond consolation. Clouds gathered on the horizon, and by nightfall, great branches of lightning crackled across the sky.

He spent the next year and a half in the wilds. Beneath the jubilant light of the sun, he collected plants, acquainting himself with the earth. And beneath the soft, watchful light of the moon, he whispered to the wind and dared to wonder at the shape of his enemy-lover’s face. He could never seem to summon the slightest picture in his mind. Though it really didn’t matter, he supposed. Their eyes would meet, and Severin would know. And then he’d use all of the power at his disposal to send his enemy-lover away.

During this time, Severin sometimes saw bands of barbaric warriors crossing the plains. He kept his distance, but he doubted any of them were interested in either recruiting or killing a scrawny young man in a worn woolen cloak. Few he encountered ever suspected he had any great abilities, and Severin certainly didn’t go out of his way to advertise the fact that he could command the wind and sky when he wished. The barbaric companies had their eyes on more obviously lucrative targets, anyway. A handful of city states which spread across the great peninsula were openly at war with the barbaric tribes from the north.

It was when Severin was returning from his self-imposed isolation that he had his first real encounter with war. He held his sturdy walking stick in hand and carried a bursting bag of herbs, poultices, and leather-bound journals over his shoulder. Severin was so surprised by the sudden, brutal clash of metal and the primal cries that erupted nearby that he halted where he stood. His curiosity both outweighed and outlasted his fear, and after a minute or two of tense consideration, he pressed cautiously onward in the direction of the noise.

By the time he arrived, the battle was done.

It had surely been an ugly, bloody affair, if the splayed out bodies of the city soldiers and barbaric warriors were anything to judge it by. Holding a hand over his mouth, Severin gingerly navigated the carnage and valiantly resisted the impulse to be sick right there in the field. He was nearly on the other side of it when movement caught his eye. Squinting, almost afraid to look, he glanced from the corners of his eyes, sure that it was some grotesque remnant of warfare which awaited him.

Instead, it was a man.

Just a man.

The movement Severin had spotted was the rise and fall of his chest.

Only after turning a careful look around the terrible and silent battlefield did Severin approach the fallen man.

The barbarian’s eyes were closed and his pale brows drew together, as if reflecting pain. His face would probably have been handsome in a rough, simple sort of way if it weren’t smeared in dirt and blood. His light hair, braided and pulled away from his face, was bloodied as well, and Severin frowned at the sorry state of him. After a second wary look around, he knelt with a sigh.

The barbarian’s leather vest was cut, and his thick, scarred arms had earned several new slices as well. Severin, who had more than enough herbs and poultices on hand, reluctantly tore his only spare shirt into bandages. Within the hour the stranger was fully bandaged and muttering in fever addled sleep.

“Don’t worry,” Severin murmured, knotting the last makeshift bandage. “I’ve learned enough from the plants and trees to save you from both fever and infection.”

Behind closed lids, the barbarian’s eyes flitted anxiously to and fro and he mumbled something that sounded like no. Nose wrinkling, Severin leaned in. He heard the sleeping barbarian say, his voice low and cracking, “The curses will take me.”

Severin frowned down at him, unimpressed. “No they won’t,” he snapped, and yanked the bandage tighter.

The barbarian silenced then, and Severin stared at him a moment longer, pursing his lips in consternation. It wasn’t that he minded using his supplies to heal a stranger. But a part of him worried that healing a warrior made Severin responsible for whatever slaughter he resumed when he rose.

Severin abhorred warfare. It was such a terrible waste. But he supposed there was no helping what he’d already done. The barbarian was already on his way to recovery, and Severin certainly wasn’t going to murder him in his sleep. He reached out, intending to test the temperature at the man’s temple, but no sooner had Severin’s fingers touched his overheated skin than the world bled around him. In its place: a vision.

Shock echoed through him, because he was not like the women in his family, able to see phantoms in time. He’d always simply played with the air. The vision dancing before his gaze, however, didn’t seem to care.

Like droplets of ink spreading in water, a prism of colors twisted, threading together into nearly tangible shapes. From the chaos, rose a blond child holding a knit sheep. He was ruddy cheeked and pouting up at his mother. Then ink and water swirled and the images collapsed and shifted. Hulking shadows loomed over the child. The mother wailed her grief. The formless ink shivered, morphing from one scene to the next, nearly too quickly to follow, and Severin was swallowed up in it, overrun and overwhelmed by violence, blood, and pain. Beneath his fingers, Severin felt the movement of shifting, slipping thread.

Just as abruptly as it had started, the vision ceased. Severin’s knees ached where they pressed against the dirt and the barbarian’s skin beneath his hand was no longer overheated. How long had he been within the vision’s grasp, he wondered?

As Severin shifted back, the barbarian groaned. Severin watched as the man’s eyelids fluttered - and at once, the air turned heavy, as if the wind had drawn and held an anticipatory breath.

Dread flooded Severin and he rushed to stand. The barbarian had not yet opened his eyes, and Severin knew with a terrible nameless certainty that he must not be here when this man awoke. Severin could still feel those elusive, unknowable threads beneath his fingers, and his hands shook as he rose. Awakened by his urgency, the wind roared, lending him speed as he fled the clearing.

By the time the barbarian cracked open a single, world weary eye, Severin was long gone, heart still safely beating in his chest.

Severin endeavored to forget about the barbarian. He convinced himself that the vision had been the hallucination of an overexerted body, and that the sensation of inexorably moving threads beneath his fingers was nothing more than a flight of fancy. Severin did not think about how the threads had felt - certain and unyielding - beneath his fragile, very mortal hands. If he did, he feared he might ask the wind to whisk him away from the world altogether, and that, surely, was no way to live.

In a deep, secret place, however, Severin suspected the reason he was granted such a vision was because the stranger’s thread was woven perilously close to his own. Because of this, he set upon an easterly road, endeavoring to put a healthy distance between himself and the pale barbarian.

After nearly a month of travel, he arrived in a small village which sat nestled in foothills, tucked beneath the shadows of great mountains which stood like sentinels above. Severin hadn’t intended to stay, but when it was discovered he had some skill with plants and medicine, the villagers eagerly led him to a hut some distance from the village. It was empty, they explained, and had been for some years. A healing woman had occupied it, some years back, before she’d passed on. The villagers had been saving it, hoping the space would be enough to entice a new healer to make their isolated village a home.

Severin had nowhere else to go, and he supposed a distant, mountain village was as good a place as any to avoid a blade to the heart.

Two years passed, and Severin settled into his little hut. He spent his mornings taking long walks around the surrounding lands, collecting herbs and specimens. Returning home, he’d throw open the windows to allow his friend the wind a brief but wild rampage through the hut. With the air freshened, Severin spread plants across his square dining table and sorted them into jars to be sealed, dried, or preserved in vinegar. His neighbors in the village visited frequently, just as often for his company as for his medicines, and Severin delighted in visiting the town on market days and making the streamers dance in the wind for the children. Evenings were spent in his rocking chair, with a book in his lap and his feet pressed near to the low fire in the hearth.

He was happy, and hardly thought of the barbarian he’d found bleeding in the dirt. That is, until fate caught up with him.

One day, when he was foraging for moss on the hillside behind his hut, Severin felt the whisper-soft touch of thread against his palm. He sat upright at once, and turning and craning his neck, he absently rubbed his palms against his robes.

A company marched into the village. From up on Severin’s hill, they appeared a swarm of ants overtaking the miniature thatched roof homes. The slipping, shivering feeling beneath Severin’s palm intensified, and he stood. His heart drummed a frantic beat against his ribs, and Severin felt with a terrible certainty that fate, like a hunting hound on the scent, had sniffed him out at last.

When Severin called out, begging the wind’s help, it rushed to him, howling atop the hill.

I am here. I am here.

Cradled in the gale, he begged the wind to take him and hide him away, so that the tapestry’s relentless threads might cease dragging him toward the one he never wished to meet.

So be it, the wind said. If that is truly what you wish, I will take you and hide you away forever.

In that moment, nearly caught as he was, Severin was willing to do anything to avoid meeting this man who would kill him - until the screams rose from the pastures in the valley beneath his hut. Severin’s heartbeat was in his throat, on his very tongue, as he held up a hand to stay the wind.

“Just a moment,” he murmured, and turned bright, pained eyes toward the village. The terrified screams of his neighbors pierced him as surely as any blade, and with a mournful twist of his fingers, he bade the wind disperse.

By the time he reached in the pastures, the shepherd, the blacksmith, and Helvia’s two sons lay dead. At the sight of his friend’s bodies, grief and rage stirred within Severin, and the wind, always nearby to him, trembled in sympathy. Gaze sweeping the warriors, he marked the five whose weapons were stained red. Severin was not violent by nature, but if he was to die this day, he resolved to remove from the earth at least these five men, who with bloodied blades, uncaringly spoke of feasting upon the village’s few precious sheep.

When the warriors turned and finally noticed Severin, he lifted his chin and prayed his voice did not betray his fear. “These are simple people. They have little in way of money or goods. It wasn’t for nothing that the shepherd, blacksmith, and teenagers died. They need these sheep. And I cannot allow you to take them.”

The men glanced at one another, eyes filling with a cruel sort of mirth. They laughed at him, and Severin steeled himself for what must come next. He was friends with the wind, but to call down the heavens was an entirely more serious matter. And he’d never done it. At least, not like this.

Severin turned his palms up and glared at the heavens, daring them to refuse him now when he needed them most.

For a long, terrible moment, nothing happened.

And then, the skies erupted.

He had never felt pure, visceral power in such a way, and as it whined and crackled, Severin, with splayed fingers, used all of his strength to tear the lightning from its home in the sky. It rained upon the warriors, screaming in wild, untamable fury. Severin watched the men cry out in agony, and he felt horror and satisfaction in equal measure.

When a single figure broke from the group, agile enough to evade the lightning and charge across the field, Severin could only look on in exhausted realization. It was the pale barbarian. The man from the battlefield. The child in the vision.

The barbarian charged like a beast, his thickly braided hair bouncing. His brows were drawn down in focus and his lips poised on the precipice of a snarl. It was with a hopeless sense of finality that Severin met the stranger’s gaze.

He met eyes of icy gray, the color of hazy, snow capped mountains in winter, and Severin knew, he knew with a certainty that was sunken into his bones and twisted in his marrow, that this barbarian was the shadow which had haunted him. And he knew, more than anything, the crude blade in the man’s scarred-knuckle hand was fate’s exclamation point at the end of Severin’s ephemeral existence.

Watching as the barbarian pivoted, drawing back his blade, Severin only wished he understood why the women in his family had persisted in calling this man Severin’s truest love. If this was love, the man had a spectacularly terrible way of showing it.

Time slowed to a crawl, and sunlight flashed, reflecting off the blade. As the jagged edge touched the fabric of Severin’s robe, the wind whispered at his ear. Let me show you a piece of the picture.

The wind around him froze, and so too did the world.

Look up, said the wind, a rustle within his ear.

Severin did.

The complexly woven image was shaped by currents in the air - all but invisible to any whose eyes are untrained to look for them. But Severin had a born understanding of the wind and sky, and when he looked up, he saw bits and pieces of an impossibly complex tapestry.

He saw scarred knuckles gently shaping wood. A small child that sat upon broad shoulders. Rocking chairs placed side by side before a glowing fire. Warm hands enveloping his own. Safety. Home.

It was...everything, and Severin’s heart ached with a strange and complex longing for a future that surely could never be.

It’s not impossible, the wind whispered. But the threads will have to tangle and untangle just perfectly so.

“How?” Severin asked, and wondered if he was a fool to feel so desperate a pull towards this life glimpsed in impressions and half images.

The warrior must weep and repent. And a curse must come to fruition.

“And if these things do not happen?”

Then your soul will fade from the earth.

Severin felt torn in two.

The blade has not yet struck your heart, the wind murmured, kind and conspiratorial. There is time still for me to secret you away. I could pull your thread from the tapestry altogether.

“But there would be no hope for that life,” Severin said with a last wistful glance at the scattered mosaic above.

No, none, the wind agreed.

“Okay,” Severin whispered, “okay.” And it felt terrifyingly like surrender.

The wind stirred, and a breeze like a kiss tousled his dark hair.

The blade struck.

It was an intense pressure and then swift, vibrantly blooming pain. Severin wavered on his feet, and looked up. For the second time, he met the warrior’s gaze. And Severin saw and understood that there was no malice in those wintry eyes. Not even frustration or anger. But, instead, an exhaustion deeper than Severin could conceive.

When Severin toppled backward, it was concerning to realize he could no longer feel the grass beneath his body. The man knelt down, and Severin blinked tiredly up at him.

It seemed as though the man were waiting for something. Severin’s slipping mind struggled to think of what - until he recalled the dying woman and her talk of curses. And hadn’t the barbarian said something about curses when he was fever addled and hurt? What had the wind said? Severin was struggling to remember. As his life trickled away in red rivulets which stained the grass and soil, he thought of the boy in the vision - lost and afraid. And he thought of the man he’d become, kneeling stonily over him.

And Severin knew exactly which words should be his last.

Swallowing, he mustered the strength to whisper, “-my hut…it’s just past…the next hill over. In it, I keep medicines and herbs. For the villagers. And travelers who pass.”

For the barbarian would have to stay if he were ever to show remorse. He couldn’t very well continue going about fighting and murdering his way across the peninsula. Which brought Severin to his final words. It took all of his remaining strength to lift his hand. When he reached out, the barbarian startled, as though he expected more lightning to spring forth from Severin’s fingers. But Severin merely tapped his chest and smiled. “May you live a life of safety and peace.”

It was a fitting curse, he thought, feeling particularly clever. And there, on the field, surrounded by sheep, Severin’s heart stuttered and stopped.

It was an abrupt, slipping sensation, like losing your footing on iced over earth. Raw existence rushed around Severin, and he was battered and blown about, like a banner torn loose in the storm. This continued for a dizzying moment, or perhaps a dizzying eternity - Severin really had no way of knowing which. But it stopped when a familiar presence surged around him, blowing and blustering until the wild chaos of existence was forced to let him be.

The wind could not protect him forever, Severin knew, and so he focused his energies until, like a wind sprite, he swirled about the hillside. Below him, he saw the barbarian, his great head bent. Severin, as incorporeal as a breeze, could not resist blustering over the barbarian’s shoulder and observing himself, limp and pitiful in death. Whipping around, he beheld the barbarian - because surely this sight would bring him at least to the verge of tears.

The barbarian frowned down at Severin’s body and rubbed a scarred hand over the patches of stubble on his chin. And then he rose with a great sigh and set off down the hillside, away from Severin and the village.

Severin, who was nothing more than wind and spirit, watched him and despaired. He could do nothing more than whip and howl through the hills as his murderer left him without a backward glance.

Months passed.

Severin did not follow after the barbarian. What good would it do? In this form, it wasn’t as though Severin could speak to him. And if he was doomed to fade and dissolve from existence, he would much rather do so here in the hills he loved than in some strange land trailing after an even stranger man. The wind kept him company, at least, and Severin spent his days whistling through the black, porous stones at the base of the mountains and blowing bits of dandelions across wild tufts of grass.

One day, long after Severin had begun to feel more spread out and thin than was entirely comfortable, the wind rushed to him, carrying with it the scent of dust and dirt and faraway lands.

The barbarian had returned.

Severin was an icy breeze that whipped around the edges of town, and he watched with cool distrust as the man trudged through the streets. His shoulders were slumped and his blond head was turned down. He looked utterly defeated, and any sympathy Severin might have felt was eclipsed by petty spite. He didn’t hold any of the pettiness against himself, though. He was dead, and therefore felt he’d earned at least a little pettiness.

When the barbarian crossed the field, stopping to stand before the place where Severin had fallen, Severin swirled around him, newly curious. The man didn’t look grief stricken, but his face was difficult to read. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and lines of exhaustion around his mouth. Mostly, Severin thought he just looked tired.

When the man approached Severin’s home after having ignored the invitation for months, Severin had a second moment of pettiness and whipped the wind up on the other side of the door, sealing it closed as the barbarian tried to open it. Only when the man shoved it with his great, muscled shoulder did Severin retreat, allowing the door to swing open.

It was with a strange sort of melancholy that he watched the barbarian’s silver gaze sweep over the room. The man looked first at the damp, unkempt hearth before slowly making his way across the room. He glanced from Severin’s well-loved walking stick to the bookshelf built into the wall. He fumblingly ran the backs of his fingers along the spines of the books, as if he was unlearned in the ways of a gentle touch.

Severin was still very much put out about the whole being dead business, but as he watched the barbarian’s almost reverent inspection, he unthinkingly twisted the air in the room, drawing out the cold and pulling in a bit of sun warmed breeze.

By the second day, the man was sitting in Severin’s chair. Severin stewed, swatting at floating dust by the window as his killer rocked to and fro in Severin’s favorite seat. Later, the barbarian stood, stretching his strong arms overhead and twisted his back experimentally. Brows lifting in pleasant surprise, he gave the chair an appreciative pat.

By the third day, Severin had no more dust to swat about. The barbarian had rolled up his ragged sleeves and set about scrubbing every inch of Severin’s little hut. When the hulking man worked open the stiff windows, the wind rushed in, delighting in whipping about the space once more.

He’s done a better job of cleaning than you ever did, the wind sang, slipping once more outside.

He was dead and that meant the wind had to be nice, and Severin told it as much. It’s reply was a soft rustling of chimes that hung from the house’s eaves, and the sound was almost like laughter.

Days passed, and the man began reading Severin’s books. This was probably the most surprising development yet, in Severin’s opinion. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading, just - well, he hadn’t thought the large, scarred warrior capable of reading particularly well. But the man seemed to be doing just fine, and sat in Severin’s rocking chair, putting a far greater strain on the sturdy wood than Severin ever had, as he thumbed carefully through the book’s smooth pages.

When little Mykela took ill, Severin knew it well before anyone else. He’d taken a spin through town and as he rode the wintry wind past where she played in the yard, he’d felt the rattle of air in her lungs. But at this point, Severin was little more than a memory on the breeze, and though his worry was agony, he could do absolutely nothing. He spent the rest of the day roaring about the mountain peaks, sending snow flurries spilling down the far side of the cliffs.

Two days later, Severin was idly observing the barbarian, watching the crease between his brows twitch as he slept, when a great pounding broke out against the door. The barbarian rose at once, and Severin watched him cast a brief glance at the walking stick before turning instead to the candle on a nearby shelf. With warm light cupped in his palm, the barbarian approached the door.

When Dormund, Mykela’s father, entered the hut, carrying a limp mound of blankets, Severin felt a spike of icy terror. As the barbarian poked and prodded the fire, Severin carefully stirred the wind to better feed the flames. Severin would have shouted instructions, had he lungs to shout, but the barbarian already had two jars in hand. He held them up, looking a little lost, before he hurried to the bookshelf and selected a thick book. Muttering under his breath, he flipped hurriedly through pages until he found what he was looking for. And then he was kneeling before the pot of water he’d set over the fire, and Severin watched as he scooped careful measurements of Severin’s dried herbs into the roiling water.

Mykela was saved, and as the barbarian sent the girl and her father off with a bag of herbs, it occurred to Severin that he wished to know the barbarian’s name. He wouldn’t learn it until two days later, when Old Cara arrived at the hut, seeking the barbarian’s help for her arthritic knee. After supplying her with the appropriate poultice, the barbarian helped her to the door, and looking up, she patted his shoulder and asked him his name.

Eindred, was his answer.

Eindred.

Severin wished he had lips to test the shape of the name.

Months passed, and was easier now to watch Eindred move about Severin’s hut. In fact, Severin had even begun to enjoy riding the soft breeze from the windows as it wafted around Eindred’s shoulders, curiously observing whatever small thing he happened to, at any given time, be doing with his hands. One day, Severin was surprised to find Eindred’s hands at work, deliberately whittling the curved back of a rocking chair. When the chair was done, Eindred set it carefully, almost reverently beside the first. At the sight, Severin had a bright, nearly overwhelming flash of recognition, and he thought of the image the wind had shown him - of the rocking chairs before a warm, crackling fire.

Severin was fading, he could feel it. To hope was to court a greater disappointment than Severin could rightly comprehend, and yet - he watched Eindred set out with Severin’s walking stick to join the festival, and saw when Mykela took his hand. The barbarian’s stony expression softened, then melted as the girl tugged him after her.

It was the strangest of sensations, because while Severin didn’t strictly have a heart these days, watching the great Eindred meekly follow little Mykela made something in Severin’s incorporeal being ache with unexpected warmth.

Whatsmore, Eindred had been reading Severin’s journals and he would sometimes stop and stare about the hut, as if trying to picture the ghost of Severin’s life there. Once, Eindred draped a thick blanket over the back of one of the rocking chairs and ran his rough hands over it as he frowned contemplatively into the fire.

Summer had come and gone and Severin feared that parts of his soul had already begun to slip into that other-place. And so, with a tender sort of weariness, he drifted on the sunbeams cutting through the clean window glass, and watched with only mild annoyance as Eindred carefully tore a blank page from one of Severin’s journals.

Lips pressing together in focus, Eindred wrote in with small, precise letters, what appeared to be a list.

Confused, Severin drifted closer.

May your every loved one die screaming in pain.

I hope you die with your eyes stabbed out and your heart in your hands.

You will never know happiness.

Your existence will be suffering.

It was a list of curses, Severin realized. Morbid curses, by the looks of it. The last two, however, caught his attention.

May your greatest enemy rise from the grave and never leave you alone.

And,

May you live a life of safety and peace.

And Severin understood.

When Eindred set out from the hut, looking drawn but resolved, Severin began at once to gather his energy. It had been nearly a year since his death, and he feared that there might not be enough of him left to make a return. The second to last curse would help things along, but Severin knew it would be a mistake to rely on it.

And so, as Eindred entered the village, Severin stretched upward and out, calling wind and storm clouds with reckless, hopeful abandon. For his entire life, Severin had lived, certain in the knowledge that love and happiness were not meant for one such as he. How could they be? When a blade was foretold to make a home in his heart?

But Eindred had changed. And the patchwork pieces of tapestry were there, a life Severin had never dared to dream of, right there - if he could only summon the strength to reach out and grasp it.

Below, Eindred bowed his head before the townsfolk, confessing his part in the tragedy which played out on their soil. Above, Severin swallowed the skies and became the storm.

Severin felt it, distantly below, when the people in the village forgave Eindred. And he felt when Eindred’s bittersweet tears tickled the earth. He felt Eindred return to the hut, and then after pacing restlessly about, return at last to the pastures where it had all begun.

And then came Eindred’s pained voice, calling out from the fields below. “Severin!”

Eindred had never said his name before, and Severin, who was the clouds and the wind and the rain and the sky, rumbled his joy at the sound of it.

“It was my hand which ended your life,” Eindred continued. His deep voice was shaking. “And with your dying breath you gifted what I thought was a nightmare. Did you know that it would turn out to be a dream? I think you did.”

Just wait, Severin wanted to tell him, because he’d seen a future better still. The only question that remained was whether he had strength enough to reach it.

Rugged face upturned, Eindred called to Severin and the sky, which were one and the same. “Though it’s a dream, I’ll never know peace. How can I? When I live in the home of the one I so coldly murdered? I would leave, but the villagers have my heart - as they had yours. In this state, I don’t think I’ll ever truly know true rest or true peace - despite the great power of your curse.”

You will, Severin said, and lightning streaked across the sky. I will.

“Even now,” Eindred said, through wind and rain, “I’m not sure if you are my greatest enemy or ally.”

There it was.

His greatest enemy.

Severin, with every ounce of power he possessed, claimed the title. For he was the greatest enemy the old Eindred, warrior and killer, had faced. With his parting curse, Severin had forced the old Eindred to do the one thing he’d feared most of all: to live and face all he’d done.

Severin felt a rushing, coursing energy thrumming within and without and he knew that he must catch it and hold it, though he wasn’t sure how.

The tapestry threads, the wind whispered. Severin had spread so thin, his old friend was nearly a part of him now.

Severin listened, and felt for that thread which had teased and tickled his palm. And when he was sure he felt it, he wrapped himself around it and pulled. The sky around him screamed as he dragged himself forward toward something - something -

White light was all around him, and then it wasn’t. The air was cool and damp, and the evening sang with the wind’s gleeful gusts and the soft patter of rain on grass. Severin lifted a hand, and looked it over in tentatively blooming relief. Pressing the hand over his heart which beat with a strong, steady rhythm, Severin breathed a relieved, ragged sigh.

Eindred stood in the field, turned away from him. Drawing in a breath, Severin delighted in the sound of his own voice. “May your greatest enemy rise from the grave, Eindred, and never leave you alone.” He smiled as he spoke, and very nearly pressed his fingers to his lips to feel the shape they took when saying Eindred’s name.

Eindred turned. “So you are my greatest enemy then?” He sounded wary.

“I don’t think it’s so simple as that. Do you?”

Eindred’s expression shifted and he shook his head. When he next spoke, it was soft and fumbling, as if he still hadn’t fully adjusted to a world which was kind. “I made a chair,” he blurted out. “A few actually,” he added, rubbing a hand over the back of his head.

Severin wanted to say, I know. I saw. But that would require more explanation than he cared to give at the moment, so instead, he replied, “Do I get the new rocking chair or my old one?”

“Any,” Eindred stammered, “Either. Both?” He looked at Severin, and the earnest weight of his gaze held the promise of all the chairs Severin could want and anything else Eindred could possibly make with his scarred hands.

The fondness that bubbled up within Severin was so abrupt and filled him so thoroughly that he wanted to laugh with it. “Lucky for you, I only need one chair. You can keep the old one if you like it. I trust your craftsmanship.”

Severin turned then, because it was cold and every part of him felt so entirely bright and buoyant that he thought he might die if he didn’t move. However, when he realized Eindred was not following, he stopped. “Well? Are you coming?”

Eindred looked up, as if he’d been startled. “Where?” he called.

Standing there, sodden in the field, Eindred looked after Severin, as if he was afraid to hope - as Severin once had been afraid to do. And it occurred to Severin that Eindred would need to hear it said aloud.

“Home, of course. Where else?”

“Home,” Eindred repeated, as if confirming it to himself.

And when Severin turned again towards home, Eindred followed.

By the time they reached the hut, both were shivering from the cold, and as they crossed the threshold into the warm space, Severin swayed on his feet. He’d almost forgotten the immense power he’d used, and now the harsh ringing in his ears was a stark reminder. Warm, rough hands steadied him and when Severin tilted his head up, he saw that Eindred wore an expression of poorly concealed terror.

“I’m not going to die all over again,” Severin assured him. “I just used a lot of magic.” As he said it, he swayed once more, this time falling forward.

Eindred caught Severin again, one arm wrapped around his back and his other hand braced against his chest. Beneath where Eindred’s palm pressed, Severin’s heart thrummed. And Severin watched, curious, as Eindred’s expression twisted. He no longer claimed the title of warrior, Severin knew, but it was nonetheless with a warrior’s gravity that Eindred met Severin’s gaze.

“These hands will never again harm you. I swear it.”

“I know,” Severin replied, and pressed a hand over the back of Eindred’s rough knuckles. “Help me to a chair?”

Eindred did, and helped to remove Severin’s thick outer robe before Severin sank gratefully in front of the fire. Eindred left him a moment, and Severin closed his eyes.

He intended to just rest them for a second - maybe two, but when Severin next opened his eyes, the room was darker and he was draped and bundled in blankets, softer and thicker than any he recalled owning. The fire was still crackling, and the warm light made soothing shadows dance across the hut’s wooden floor. The other chair was occupied, Severin realized, and he watched as the hearth’s orange light played across Eindred’s sleeping features. Compared to Severin’s mountain of blankets, he had just one draped over his lap, though he didn’t seem cold. Nonetheless, Severin shifted a bit, and peeled a soft fleece blanket off his own pile to toss it onto him. The blanket fell short, and with a quick whispered word, the wind slipped under the door and flipped the offending blanket up onto Eindred’s chest.

“That’s better,” Severin said.

The wind played a little with the fire before tousling Severin’s hair and departing with a sibilant, save your strength foolish human. You’re still recovering, and slipped out the way it had come.

When Severin turned back to Eindred, he saw the large man was sitting up and his eyes were now open. Blinking, Eindred rubbed a hand over his face and then, stiffening in sudden shock, he whipped to look at Severin. Heaving a great sigh, he rocked back in the chair. “Still breathing,” he said.

“I don’t plan on stopping.”

Something almost like a smile twitched at Eindred’s lips and Severin was enchanted by it.

“You were dead and now you’re alive. Forgive me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“You’re the one who believes in silly curses.”

Eindred’s brows rose. “Silly? Says the one who was brought back from the dead by one.”

Severin waved a dismissive hand. “The curse might have set the stage, but I was director, crew, and cast.”

And there was another smile, like a glimpse of sun between clouds. Severin was beginning to fear there might be no practical limit to the lengths he’d be willing to go to see another smile.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Eindred replied. “I get the feeling you know a great deal more about the world and magics than I.”

“Well Eindred,” Severin said, scooting his chair a little closer to both Eindred and the fire. “What do you know of grand tapestries?”

Eindred, looking more than a little lost, shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen one.”

“Well,” Severin said, and grinned. “What do you know of cheese?”

EDIT: A novel based on Eindred and the Witch and The Witch Who Spoke to the Wind is in progress! I will post news about it on my Tumblr and my Patreon as news becomes available :)

#my writing #original writing #my story #Eindred and the Witch #original story #fantasy #fantasy story #love story #eindred the warrior #severin the witch #writing #writeblr #short story #long short story #7000+ words #fantasy short story #amwriting #story

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

Note

would you potentially write sirius wearing remus’ jersey? 👀 (i love your writing btw!!)

I sure can! I really hope Haz writes this in Vaincre, but for now, this is my take on it. Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for smut and mild overstimulation

Remus heard footsteps approach from the hall and closed his eyes with a sigh. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it—

“Y’know, I don’t think Earth should qualify as a planet.”

“Fuck you,” he fired back, though it came out as little more than an incomprehensible slur around the hunk of plastic in his mouth.

“Really, I do,” Sirius continued. Remus took a deep breath through his nose and did his goddamn best not to bite through the still-soft mouthguard as it molded to his teeth. “Other planets don’t have life on them. We’re the only one. That makes us an outlier.”

“As soon as this thing comes out, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Kinky. Anyway, have I told you about that article I read that talked about the moon landing?” Through the blood pounding in his ears, Remus heard the clink of a water glass being taken down from the cupboard. “Turns out the whole thing is a hoax.”

Remus dug his phone out of his pants and furiously typed out a message, cursing every higher power that he got stuck with that idiot as his husband. Damn you for being pretty. “Read,” he ordered, closing his eyes and holding it over his shoulder.

“I’m illiterate.”

“I detest you.”

“What was that? Sorry, I’m having some trouble understanding you.”

“Sirius fucking Black—”

Remus’ mumbled retaliation cut off abruptly with a soft huh as he whipped around, and his jaw fell open. Sirius smiled, easy as you please, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Yes?”

“Oh, fuck,” Remus whimpered around his mouthguard. A sly grin curled the edges of Sirius’ perfect lips upward; he quirked an eyebrow and turned in a slow circle.

“Fits better than I thought it would,” he remarked as Remus whined, desperately checking the timer on his phone. Two minutes and seventeen seconds. Shit. The golden number 6 on the back caught the light of their kitchen like a beacon—a sexy, sexy beacon that beckoned toward every atom in Remus’ body while he tried not to drool on himself. “Mine was a bit big on you, non?”

“Baby, c’mon. C’mon, don’t do this.”

“Should I take it off?”

“No!” Remus blurted, nearly spitting the mouthguard out in his hurry. Sirius shot him a teasing look and sauntered over, then braced his hands—his fucking hands, Remus was so gone for that irritating bastard—on the back of the couch and leaned over until their noses nearly touched.

“What?” he asked, quiet and yet low as thunder. “Cat got your tongue, Loops?”

Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sharp peak of his collarbone beneath a drape of red-and-gold fabric; he couldn’t wait to get his teeth on it. His hands only shook a little as he reached up and rolled the hem between his fingertips, sliding his palms up to the strong planes of Sirius’ chest, hidden by his jersey. A meteor could strike the earth, and Remus would die happy for having seen his name and number emblazoned on the most beautiful man alive.

“Are you going to take it off?”

Remus shook his head without looking up and skimmed a thumb over Sirius’ nipple, feeling a thrill race through him when his breath caught. “Gotcha.”

“Bummer about the mouthguard,” Sirius panted. “If you didn’t leave it to the last second, you could already have that pretty mouth on me.”

As if on cue, the timer went off. Sirius’ face went slack in surprise. Remus grinned, and carefully popped the mouthguard out, laying it in its case before yanking Sirius into his lap. “You were saying?”

“I will admit, I thought that would take longer to set.”

“So you decided to torture me?” Remus guided him down to his neck and felt Sirius shudder.

“I always torture you on mouthguard Fridays.”

He hummed, opening a new package as quietly as he could. “I think I found a solution.”

“Seeing me in your jersey?”

“No. This.” Ignoring the confused noise Sirius made when he leaned back, he slid the new mouthguard mold between his teeth with a sugar-sweet smile, making sure to highlight his dimple. “You look gorgeous. You’ll be sorry for it, though.”

Sirius’ brows pitched and he mumbled a word that might have been ‘kisses’ if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied.

“You’ll get kisses eventually. That thing’ll be done in ten minutes, and it better be perfect.”

Without giving him a chance to appeal his case, Remus pushed him flat onto the couch, set the timer, and settled between his thighs with a tight grip on his narrow hips. The first touch of his tongue to the outline of Sirius’ dick drew a deep groan from him; he saw Sirius’ next tighten and reached up to grab him by the jaw.

“What did I say?” he asked patiently as Sirius squirmed under him. The tension released, and he smiled, placing a kiss to the side of his mouth as he rubbed his palm along Sirius’ shaft. “Je t’ai, mon amour. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

In a moment of shocking foresight (which Remus was eternally grateful for), Sirius had chosen to wander about in just the jersey and his underwear. The fabric was already sticky when his breath fanned hot over it—Sirius closed his eyes with a soft sound and reached back for the armrest.

“Harlot,” Remus teased as he ran his hand along his inner thighs. Sirius huffed a laugh, but it quickly transformed into a moan as Remus pulled his boxers away and took as much of him into his mouth as he could.

“Oh, god,” Sirius said, clearly winded as one knee knocking against Remus’ ribs while his lower back arched. “Please, please, ngh—”

Remus pulled away with a sigh and took his jaw again, giving it a little shake. “Sirius. Don’t clench your teeth.”

A shaky sound slipped through; he stared up at Remus in a silent plea, but managed to relax.

“You have eight minutes left.” Remus rubbed his thumb in small circles over the head of his dick and watched his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Count if you want, but that should be good enough for you to wear.”

Sirius nodded, his breaths coming harder as if he had just run a race. Under his palm, Remus could feel his heartbeat pounding in his broad chest—he smoothed the jersey down, then scooted back to resume pulling Sirius apart thread by thread. He had felt that exact fabric almost every day for months and rarely found anything attractive about it, but on Sirius it was astonishing how fast his whole body lit up in response. He wanted to see him wear it and nothing else.

He pulled off with a soft laugh when Sirius put his forearm over his mouth. His thighs were trembling on either side of Remus. “Oh, baby, is that hard for you?”

A keening noise was his only response.

Remus kept a tight grip on the base of his shaft, sliding his thumb along the underside as he swallowed Sirius down and nipped kisses along his sensitive hips. “Relax, I’ll take care of you.”

He grinned to himself as a shudder rocked through Sirius’ whole body and more precome dripped over his lower lip. The clock on his phone read three minutes. Plenty of time to take him apart, Remus thought, slipping two fingers into Sirius’ mouth to stop him from biting down. He made a muffled noise of protest, but it was weak, and within moments he was putty once again.

“I don’t think it really matters which skate you put on first,” he said casually, bracing an arm over Sirius’ lower belly as his hips jerked. “And at the end of the day, superstitions are bullshit.”

Sirius’ eyes flared open in disbelief; he tried to retort, but the mouthguard and Remus’ fingers made him incomprehensible.

“Sorry, I’m having some trouble understanding you,” Remus mimicked. Sirius’ chest buzzed with an angry sound, but he just smiled and licked a long stripe up his length, laving his tongue against the spot just beneath the head. “And you know what?”

“Hmm?” Sirius managed, clearly frustrated as his hands flexed.

Remus pulled back and leaned over him. The contrast between the warm colors of his jersey and the quicksilver of Sirius’ eyes drove him wild, and he closed his eyes as he bent down until his lips just brushed the shell of Sirius’ ear. “Sometimes, if it was a really long day and I was tired and ready to go home…”

Sirius made a questioning noise and Remus bit down on the hinge of his jaw.

“I would sharpen your right skate before your left.”

Sirius froze. Remus sat back up with a smug look and took his thoroughly slicked fingers out; from the expression on Sirius’ face, he may as well have told him he burned down the rink. The slack-jawed horror dissolved into pure indignance in half a second. “You mother—”

For the second time in about fifteen seconds, Sirius was lost for words. He replaced them with a yelp that Remus prayed the neighbors wouldn’t hear, rolling his hips back onto the finger that crooked upward in a practiced movement. The mouthguard may have muffled his words, but it did nothing to stop him from moaning.

Remus redoubled his efforts as the clock ticked down the final minute—he had plans for later, but they would only work if Sirius was properly handled first. He finally fell silent, reduced to gasping and writhing as Remus worked two fingers inside of him and kept up so much suction his own jaw was beginning to ache. Finally, with a desperate little sound and a harsh grip on the couch cushion, Sirius shook to pieces, his stomach jolting as Remus stroked the underside of his thigh in soothing motions.

The timer went off a few seconds later, and he carefully pulled the plastic out of Sirius’ mouth. There were a few dents from his lower teeth and the back was decently mangled, but overall…

“Huh. Not bad,” he said, setting it on the coffee table. Sirius blinked slowly at him, his mouth still open and his pupils blown wide as he tried to catch his breath. “Alright, up.”

Sirius silently shook his head, never taking his eyes off Remus’ face.

“Yep, c’mon. You’re still wearing my jersey, and I need to thank you for it.”

A quiet puff of air left his lungs as his dick twitched. “I c—I can’t.”

Remus sighed through his nose and stood, then hoisted Sirius into a bridal hold and headed toward the stairs. “It’s a good thing I’m strong enough to do this, or else you’d have to get yourself upstairs all by yourself.”

“Re?”

He maneuvered so Sirius’ feet wouldn’t smack into the banister and smiled when a kiss brushed against his cheekbone. “Yes?”

“You were kidding about the skate thing, right?”

“Depends.” He nudged the bedroom door open with his hip. “Were you kidding about the moon?”

Sirius’ shoulders shook with laughter as Remus set him down on the bed and settled on top of him, bracketing his face and waist. His hands were warm and broad on his cheeks, pulling him down for a kiss at long last. Remus hummed into it; his insides turned to happy mush, and he began running his palms along the outside of Sirius’ bare thighs.

“You look fucking amazing in my jersey, love,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“You say that like you didn’t already know.”

Remus kissed the smile off his face, lacing their fingers and pressing them down over Sirius’ head—he stretched his back like a contented cat before shifting until he was comfortable. “I still think about that night, you know.”

“Well, yeah, we won the Cup.”

“I think about the way you let me push you against the door,” he continued, paying Sirius no attention as he mapped each curve and angle of his neck. After over a year of practice, he knew the best spots by heart. “And the way you looked at me when you saw what I was wearing. And when you held me like you were going to break if I stopped moving. I wish you could’ve seen your face when I begged you to let me come again. Remember that?”

The room was quiet for a moment, save for Sirius’ shallow breaths and the rustle of the sheets as he squirmed.

Remus pulled back from his neck and ran a thumb over his wet lower lip. “Hey. Answer me.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Sirius said on the tail end of a slow exhale. “Fuck. You can’t just say things like that.”

“You kept your hand right here,” he said, pressing down on Sirius’ chest with just enough force to feel his lungs hitch. “I might not have a badge, but I’ll figure something out. I think I understand why you like it when I wear yours so much.”

“Every time you wear it, we fuck, and it’s always mind-blowing. There’s no way I’ll be able to see it on you outside of bed.”

“I have the sneaking suspicion we’re on the same page with that.” He took the backs of Sirius’ knees in his hands and pushed until they almost touched his chest. “Hold.”

Through the grace of God, the lube was easy to find. Remus really didn’t know what he would have done if it wasn’t—he might have been confident on the outside, but his fine motor skills were sorely lacking and his brain was playing a loop of sexy boyfriend jersey sexy boyfriend jersey that he couldn’t even dream of stopping. Sirius made a series of cut-off keening noises as he opened him up, and Remus wanted to memorize the look on his face.

“Deep breaths, baby,” he soothed, resting a hand over Sirius’ heart when his legs began to shake. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Oh, god,” Sirius choked out, leaning his head back into the pillows. “Re, please—”

“Shh.” Remus moved his free hand up to hold one index finger over Sirius’ lips while the other pushed and pressed inside of him, skimming over his prostate in a random pattern that drew harsh exhales each time.

“I can’t,” Sirius whined. “Mon amour, I can’t.”

“You don’t need to do anything but hold.” Small white spots were appearing on Sirius’ knuckles as he clutched at his thighs; his dick was already starting to drip again. Remus slid into him and stifled a moan into his own shoulder, though he really didn’t have to worry—Sirius’ short cry would have covered any other sound easily. “There you go, nice and easy.”

Sirius blubbered out a string of incoherent words as Remus began to move and the mattress began to creak, but he was far too preoccupied with the way his jersey shone in the light of their bedroom and stood stark against the sheets in a blaze of red. Sirius’ smooth skin, so warm and flushed under his touch, blended almost seamlessly with the golden edges until Remus couldn’t think to do anything but lean down and kiss him. He responded eagerly, craning his neck for a better angle and pulling Remus’ lower lip between his teeth with a breathless moan. Once, he tried to let go of his leg and bring him closer, but Remus calmly took his hand and guided it back to the proper place without breaking stride.

“I need—I need—mon dieu, merde—need you, please,” Sirius panted, squeezing his eyes shut with a wavering moan.

“Je t’ai,” Remus repeated as he sucked a mark on the junction of his neck. Sirius’ whole left side went limp at the feeling. “I’ve got you. Christ, Sirius, you look incredible.”

A gasp left his kiss-swollen lips as he looked up at Remus. “I don’t think I can come again, Re, please—”

“You can. Color?”

“Vert, green, but—” He bit down on his lower lip as Remus held his waist in a firm grip. “I really don’t think I can.”

“I think you can,” Remus said, combing his fingers through the top of Sirius’ hair and giving it a tug. His whole abdomen tightened and his knees knocked together; it took Remus several seconds to get his breath back to the point where he wasn’t about to come on the spot. “I’m taking care of you right now, remember? If I say you can, you can.”

Sirius’ gaze was bright and untethered as he gulped—Remus gave his hair another pull, harder, and he shivered. More precome painted his stomach and darkened the hem of the jersey. His vocabulary seemed to be reduced to oh, fuck on repeat, growing slightly higher in pitch each time until he was just whimpering. “Re—Re, now—”

Remus caught his mouth in a slow, gentle kiss and wrapped a hand around him, not changing his pace until Sirius crumbled into a puddle of bliss and his shins connected with Remus’ ribs. He buried his face in Sirius’ sweaty neck with a sharp gasp and followed him over the edge mere moments later; he didn’t even try to catch himself as his knees slipped on the sheets and brought him down to lay across Sirius’ chest.

For a few seconds, all he could hear was their breaths and heartbeats. Part of him was tempted to doze off right there, but he rallied the last of his energy and peeled Sirius’ hands off his legs, pulling them down and out so they wouldn’t cramp. Sirius was staring at the ceiling in a daze; the jersey was rumpled and rucked up around his ribs, and Remus slid that down as well.

“Baby?” he said, kissing each of his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Sirius’ voice cracked and he bit back a laugh.

“Ça va?”

“Mmm. Très bien.” His arms were little more than noodles as he wrapped them around Remus’ shoulders.

“Come on,” he said after a bit, disentangling himself despite Sirius’ grumbling. “You did so well, but we still have to clean up. You can be the little spoon, if you give me a hand.”

“You’ll have to carry me.”

“No,” Remus laughed. “I barely hold myself up, are you kidding?”

Sirius cracked one sleepy eye open, then narrowed it. “Depends. Were you kidding about my skates?”

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #smut #mouthguard #jersey

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alfredolover119 · 4 years ago

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I looooove your zukka rec lists! I recently became Avatar-obsessed, never got a chance to watch it as a kid and only just got through it all! I was wondering if you'd consider doing a specifically angst rec list? I love fluffy zukka everything, but sometimes you just gotta have your heart ripped out of your chest and put back in after being thoroughly blended.

thank you! i relate heavily to “recently became Avatar-obsessed” haha. as for the angst list, i sure can try! warning: all of these have happy endings because im a crybaby who can’t read unhappy endings. also, p much all of the fics in the completed section were featured on my other lists but this is specifically the ANGSTY ones >:^)

angsty zukka wips

first, most obviously, feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe

-currently at 102k with 19/27 chapters posted; rated teen

-the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. you know. i haven’t actually read it yet because, as previously mentioned, i’m a crybaby and am waiting for it to finish up but, from my understanding, this fic will murder you in a dark alleyway with no remorse. if u like zukka angst, you’ve probably already read this, but just in case!

An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. // But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends.

Yeah, nah.

and i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by @goldrushzukka

-currently 38k with 6/8 chapters posted; rated mature

-holy shit. holy SHIT. modern au based on the “my cat likes my fuckbuddy and i am falling in love” trope(?). maybe it’s just because of how the last chapter ended, but oh my god. this one made me cry. made me want to commit violence. when it’s not angsty as hell, it’s pretty funny, but holy shit. ao3 user nebulastucky please.

It’s supposed to be a one night stand. Pick up some guy at a bar, barely remember his name and never learn anything real about him, send him packing in the morning with a thanks for the ride and a cup of coffee to-go. That’s how it’s supposed to go. // But then it’s the best sex Sokka has ever had, and he thinks he’ll hate himself if he never gets to have it again.

Violet Blossoms and Celestial Objects by @hollypunkers

-currently 15k with 2/? posted. rated teen.

-this is the sequel to blue (an angsty, zukka rewrite of book 2-- go read it if u havent!)! !! this is a book 3 rewrite. only two chapters in and mrs hollypunkers is really abusing the miscommunication tag, as zukka writers seem to enjoy doing. im excited to see how the world and story develops with the changes to the story! you should be too!! its very good! obviously spoilers for blue lmao

Having sided with the Avatar in Ba Sing Se, Zuko not only must navigate his new relationship with Sokka but returning to the Fire Nation as a banished enemy. His own journey of self discovery and personal growth must now coexist alongside the personal struggles of every other member of the Gaang as together they blaze a treacherous path toward an unsure victory against Zuko's own father and nation.

breakable heaven by @fruitysokka

-currently 71k with 9/11 chapters posted. rated teen

-swt ambassador zuko! soon to be chief sokka! fake dating ur best friend to get out of an arranged marriage! what could go wrong!!! i also haven’t read this one ((see: i’m a crybaby who is being hurt by too many zukka wips already)), but it has been hanging out in my marked for later for months. from what i understand, this fic has: angst.

With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? // Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

angsty zukka fics (completed!)

(i’ll put these in wc order)

lighthouse beam by @incorrectzukka

-7k, rated g

-a modern college au!! zuko’s inner-monologue is very angsty in this fic. typical zuko. also per usual, theyre both fucking dorks. they sort themselves out in the end, but not before The Angst. zuko is semi-deaf in this fic and also he has a bit of internalized homophobia.

Sokka’s breathtakingly beautiful and he’s smart and makes other people laugh. Zuko has a half-burnt face and a deaf ear. It’s not rocket science. // Or, Zuko falls in love with the boy in his Philosophy class.

This Isn’t My Idea of Fun by @khaleeseas

-9k, explicit

-moon spirit/nwt prince!sokka, no war to be found here! admittedly this isnt THAT angsty but like. the angst IS present. zuko is still the prince. a lovely childhood friends (though they hated each other for a minute haha) to lovers story.

If you asked Zuko, he and Azula saw far too much of Chief Hakoda of the Northern Water Tribe’s children growing up. It wasn’t until they were older, and Azula pointed out that - duh - their families were trying to set them all up, that he realized why. // He was told by his mother to be polite. These people were their friends and allies, and though their nations were as different as they came, harmony between nations was the most important thing. // It wasn’t his fault the Chief’s children were so annoying.

put your lips close to mine (as long as they don’t touch) by @celestialceci

-9k, teen

-modern au! zuko and sokka are college roommates. zuko goes to spend the summer with sokka. again,, not really that angsty but-- its there!! the detail and feeling of Home in this story make me happy. zuko is insecure as hell here too. if ur into that.

Zuko hates his home. He likes college alright, but he likes Sokka even better, his assigned roommate turned best friend. Spending the summer with Sokka will be fun, a welcome change of pace he desperately wants. It probably won't awaken anything in him... right?

the thing about dancing by anodymalion

-9k, teen

-yes. this one right here officer. it makes my heart ache. also trans sokka! which is cool. but the zuko angst in this one. hurts me. not so much relationship angst as it is zuko learning he deserves happiness angst. i’m sure u know The Type.

The first time a attendant spills Zuko’s tea and doesn’t immediately fall to her knees, begging the Fire Lord’s forgiveness, it is not anger but a resounding warmth that fills his chest.

i could (never) give you peace by @zukkababey

-10k, mature

-OUCH. OUCH OUCH OUCH. boys please learn to communicate im begging u. also zuko.. zuko, dude. as the tags of the fic say, hes “really going through it” in this one. YOUCH. post-canon.

Zuko almost said it. He almost said the words I think I’m in love with you, but he choked them back down at the last second. // Zuko would never be able to be what Sokka wanted. They might have needed each other during the summer, when two boys with too much weight on their shoulders found comfort in each other in the only way they knew how. // But now Zuko was Fire Lord, and Sokka was leaving.

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by @meliebee

-18k, teen, major character death

-i lied. THIS is the one, officer. found family.. good mai and zuko and toph friendships.. . ozai escapes prison and tries to overthrow zuko. OBVIOUSLY angst ensues. poor boy. he Does heal in this but it gets worse before it gets better. angst angst angst angst.

Ten months after Zuko is crowned at seventeen, he faces his first coup.

Anything for You by beersforqueers

-23k, explicit

-istg. this is probably one of my favorite zukka fics. its PAINFUL. modern au where theyre broken up but sokka hasnt told his family yet so zuko goes home with him for kataang wedding. a bit smutty, but the plot oh my god ohgm y fuvk. made me cry the first time i read it. (see: crybaby!me) insert that one picture of the horse with the caption PAIN.

In which Sokka and Zuko have broken up but Sokka hasn't told his family yet. So when Katara and Aang's wedding weekend rolls around and he doesn't want to break Gran-Gran's heart, he asks Zuko to pretend to be his boyfriend for one last weekend. // Things don't go as planned.

Moving Mountains by @thefangirlingdead

-64k, mature

-so. when i read this the first time it was in one sitting. soulmate au set within canon era / the comics, to an extent. soulmates can hear each others thoughts. i will happily say this is slowburn, jesus christ. champagne without the cham.

Soulmates are chosen by the spirits and can hear each other’s thoughts. Sokka thinks it’s cheesy and dumb. Zuko thinks it’s poetic justice that he doesn’t have one because he doesn’t deserve it. Cruel irony is finding out that the prince of the Fire Nation (and the person currently hunting you) is your soulmate.

In the Soft Light by @voidcenturyscholar and @romancedawning

-83k, teen, graphic depictions of violence

-moon spirit!sokka living in the northern water tribe. zuko is sent to the northern water tribe as a cultural liaison. iroh is the fire lord but while he is away taking care of lu ten after his injury ozai steps up. i cannot express how many emotions this fic made me feel. background yuetara. i would almost say found family?? but. anyway. plenty of angst to spare here with a healthy dose of enemies to friends to lovers.

As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.

That Midnight Sky by @zukkababey

-103k, teen

-now now now. tms... modern college au where sokka agrees to tutor zuko in physics because zuko has to maintain straight a’s and physics is just not doing it for him. so. thats cool but THEN azula moves in, randomly, with zuko. to hide the fact that sokka is tutoring zuko, they fake date! what could go wrong!! the mutual pining in here combined with the angst... wonderful, tasty. everyone read it rn. also SLOWBURN

In Zuko’s strict family, needing a tutor is just about the worst thing you could do. Failing a class, however, is even worse. The only rational solution? Take up Aang on his offer to find him a physics tutor and have Sokka—beautiful, smart, handsome Sokka—tutor him in secret. // When Azula’s arrival threatens to reveal Zuko’s secret, it’s up to Sokka to convince her this definitely isn’t what it looks like. See, he’s actually… Zuko’s… boyfriend? // Hmm. There’s no way this could get complicated, right?

#zukka #zuko #sokka #angst #zukka angst #atla #avatar: the last airbender #fic recs #zukka fic recs

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to-be-a-dreamer · 3 years ago

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32 and javid for the ask game!

- @we-are-inevitable ✨

It is so so important to me that you guys know this is the third version of this ask that Jac sent me. The first one didn't have a ship and the second one wasn't anon so everyone point and laugh at Jac (with love <3)

Anyways, 32 is Everlasting by Sarah Charles Lewis!

So..... Javid Tuck Everlasting AU?

Javid Tuck Everlasting AU!

As always, I made this way longer than anyone wanted or asked for.

I'm thinking that this would be a prequel with Jack as Miles, David as his husband, Medda as Mae, and Race as Jesse. Charlie is functionally Angus, but he's one of the brothers and his personality is different, obviously. I guess I could just have Race and Jack but I love Charlie so much and he will always be in my AUs so yeah, he's Angus but not.

The fic would start with the Larkin family coming upon the spring, spending the night, and taking a drink in the morning.

"Do you think this water is clean? I mean, don't we have to boil it first?" "It looks fine to me. Besides, it's just water, what's it gonna do, kill us?"

Quite the opposite actually!

So then we would follow the Larkins finding a nice town to settle down in and there would probably be a few other Newsies characters in there somewhere I dunno.

The first chapter or two would be about Jack and David meeting and falling in love and all that good stuff. I think it would be just a series of short little scenes that take us through their relationship over a few years. They'd meet in town somewhere and Jack would be kinda obnoxious at first because this boy does not know how to flirt without being insufferable. David would pretend to hate him but secretly really enjoys their banter and "complains" about him to Sarah.

Eventually, Jack would get his act together and they'd start dating. The Jacobs family loves him, the Larkin family loves David, and it's just really nice and sweet and all that. We'd get a nice, small wedding with their families and friends and they'd end up adopting a kid after a year or so.

But throughout all of this, David couldn't help but feel like something was off about Jack and his family. When a harsh winter brought on a bad case of scarlet fever to the entire town, not a single member of the Larkin family got so much as a cough. One summer when Jack was helping Mr. Kloppmann do some repairs on his barn, a section of the roof collapsed right on top of him. When they finally got the giant piece of wood off of him, he was completely fine, he didn't even have a bruise. And the weirdest thing was even ten years after the Larkins moved to town, Race, the youngest, hadn't aged a day.

In fact, none of the Larkins had changed over the past ten years. It was more obvious with Race, who had been seventeen when David met him and definitely didn't look like he was in his late twenties. But once he started paying attention it was obvious that Race didn't just have a hard-luck case of baby face. Jack and Charlie should both be well into their thirties, but neither of them had so much as a smile line. When Charlie and Sarah stood side by side helping prepare Thanksgiving dinner one year, David was startled at how old his twin sister looked compared to his brother-in-law, who was supposedly only two years younger than her. And Miss Medda, who had always looked remarkable for her age, was beginning to look unsettlingly good for a woman who was in her mid-sixties.

Every morning, David looked into the mirror and found a new wrinkle around his eyes or a new strand of gray hair. Then he would go into the kitchen to be greeted by his husband who looked the exact same as the day they first met.

It was easier to ignore when he was younger. He was able to chalk it up to the Larkins aging well or his memories deceiving him. Perhaps they had changed and David just didn't realize it. But then he and Jack got married. Then they had a child. Then David had his daughter to think about. He still loved Jack with all his heart, but he couldn't lie to himself anymore.

There was something very very wrong with the Larkin family.

As much as David wanted to confront his husband and demand the truth, he wasn't sure if Jack even knew. He seemed blissfully unaware and constantly teased his brothers for acting "so immature".

David couldn't bring himself to be angry when Jack clearly didn't even notice, but he wasn't sure much longer he could do this. He married Jack because he loved him, yes. But also because he wanted to be able to love the man he would become. David had always said he would chose a partner who could grow and learn with him, who would stand by his side through all life had to throw at them and help him be better in spite of it. But Jack was exactly the same man David had known when they were twenty-four. David had loved him, but he wasn't quite sure if he would still be able to when he was fifty years old, or when their daughter grew up to look older than her father, or when they had grandchildren, or when David's parents passed away and Miss Medda would look as youthful as the day he met her.

As fate would have it, he never had to find out.

Race should have died that day. He had fallen fifty feet right on his head and David remembered holding his little girl close to his chest, not wanting her to see what should have been a horrific sight. When Race got up without a single scratch and waved off their concern, spouting some nonsense about the branches slowing down his fall, that was when David made the decision.

He spent the next week preparing in secret. He didn't think Jack would get violent if he found out, but he knew his husband would fight tooth and nail to keep their daughter and David couldn't risk it. He took half of their money and hid it away, he packed clothes and family heirlooms, and he sold any household items Jack wouldn't miss for the extra money.

Leaving was the hardest thing David had ever done. Jack slept like the dead (ironic), so it was easy to slip out of bed and dress in the light of the full moon. He had prepared the horse and the wagon before they went to bed so all he had to do was pick up his daughter and take her outside. She fell back asleep as soon as he got her settled and he should have been able to just climb in beside her and drive away.

But even though he knew he should, David couldn't bring himself to just leave, not without saying goodbye. So he went back inside and wrote Jack a letter.

David loved him. He always had and he always would, but there was something very very wrong with him, and David wouldn't let their daughter get hurt because of it. He begged Jack not to look for them, to let them go with as little heartache as possible. He told Jack that he would miss him, but he couldn't, no, wouldn't live a lie anymore. David loved Jack and he would always care about him, but he had to put his daughter first.

He left the letter on the bedside table, gave Jack one last kiss, and left without another look back.

David Jacobs never saw Jack Larkin again. He and his daughter were on the road for a week before they found a new town they could settle in. The townsfolk bought his "newly-widowed single father" lie and he found a new job without trouble. His little girl was young enough that she didn't ask too many questions beyond his initial explanation that Daddy had to go away and it would just be the two of them from now on.

As she grew older he couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth so he let her believe Jack was dead, even if the exact opposite was true. She grew up and David grew old. She lived her life and David did his best to forget, to convince himself that his lie was true. Jack Larkin was dead. He might as well have been, anyways, and David would never let his daughter learn any different if he could help it.

David Jacobs died with his daughter on one side and his little brother on the other. Sarah had passed the year before and his grandchildren were waiting in the other room. David Jacobs died happily and peacefully after a good long life, with only a few regrets that his family would never need to know about.

And somewhere in the world, Jack Larkin lived on, heartbroken and lonely and not a day over twenty-four.

#i tried to make this with david as winnie and jack as jesse #but i just kinda stared at the screen for half an hour trying to figure it out because that dynamic just Does Not Work #so now we have this!#and i really like it :D #i made the post for this game and then immediately lost all motivation to actually do it #so i'll likely be spacing these out a bit cause i got a lot more than i expected #thank you thank you for the ask #jac ask #saf writes #saf’s fic concepts #tuck everlasting au

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fukurodaze · 4 years ago

Text

you!

pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader genre: fluff, an atsumu and reader meet cute!! word count: 2.1k warnings: light cursing synopsis: atsumu may or may not have developed a tiny crush on karasuno’s substitute manager.

requested by anon <3 aah i’m so sorry i kind of changed the plot slightly :))

special thanks to maddie @prettysetterakaashi for the beta <3

LISTEN TO: all about you - nct u

the first time you meet miya atsumu, he is seventeen, wearing his number seven jersey, and so ready to whoop your team’s (and, really, anyone else’s) ass.

the arena is much bigger than you had dreamed - much like the ones you’d seen on television - like the sendai gymnasium, but multiply it by four. it’s loud, overwhelming, and teeming of air-tight pressure. you swear you could almost hear it: the wavering heartbeats, the rolling cameras, the competitive atmosphere.

maybe you had overdressed just a little bit. turned your tracksuit into a stylish oversized-padded-jacket-baggy-pants-tight-shirt situation. (you absolutely blushed when kiyoko said you were pretty today.)

out of the crowd of volleyball players gathered before the opening ceremony, you spot a faux blonde tuft of hair and a loud voice accompanying it. he nags at one of his teammates as he stuffs his coat in his bag.

broad back. sloped shoulders. the number seven.

“say, is that inarizaki’s setter you talked about from camp?” slightly motioning to the side, you ask your fellow first-year, kageyama tobio.

kageyama nods sharply, “yes. why?”

“yachi told me that if we win the first match, we’ll be up against them. i heard they were runner ups for the last interhigh,” you mutter, “whew, scary.”

and extremely handsome, you want to say.

there’s a pause, and you continue, “i mean, not that we’re guaranteed to win the first match anyways. it’s nationals...”

kageyama shrugs at your statement, “it’s nationals.”

you remember yachi had told you to have faith in the boys.

so when you heard the whistle on game point announcing karasuno’s victory on the first round, you couldn’t help but mumble an ‘i knew it’ under your breath by the bleachers.

but as you cheered, yellow water bottles in hand, voice an octave higher, you swore you felt a pair of eyes that ogled at you from the second floor.

your senses were correct - miya atsumu was wondering what kind of volleyball team had someone as cute as you in all of japan.

“eyes on their plays, not the managers.” miya osamu’s hand lands square on his twin’s back, earning a surprise yelp in response.

“they’re not even playing anymore! they just won!” atsumu gestures dramatically, but he keeps looking your way.

“well ya better keep yer eyes on the ball tomorrow-”

“-and YOU need ‘ta jump higher for our new quicks.”

osamu sighs, and as they hear their coach calling them down, the two leave the second floor balcony in rare silence. he figures his brother might have developed a little crush on karasuno’s substitute manager. it was always common for his brother to develop some kind of attraction to someone from somewhere far, yet the way atsumu’s staring so intently has him thinking he might actually want to do something about you.

“you’re weird,” osamu snickers.

atsumu furrows his brows in joking offence. “-isn’t that, like, rude?”

atsumu wasn’t, isn’t, and will never be the kind of guy who loses sight of the ball. ever.

he reckons his peripheral vision has widened for this match and this match only, seeing as he feels an extra pair of eyes on him.

for some reason, he feels the need to play around a bit more today.

his sets vary even more in tempo, he’s spiked more than usual, and he can’t stop moving. it doesn’t help either that inarizaki’s ten-point lead in the second set only fuels his playtime. anything to rack up some more points.

although he’s stuck with jump floaters, he thinks flipping off karasuno’s super libero is almost enough to make up for his lack of jump serves, so he savours every time he’s in the back right, ready to serve.

he doesn’t mind the gasps that come out of your mouth when he lands a service ace, either.

and as the set point goes to inarizaki with a lead that just seemed so right, atsumu promises himself to come up to you once inarizaki wins.

he knows he’s going to win.

his shoes feel light on the rubber floor, like he could squat down and bend back and jump up all he wants. his muscles are working hard, and his senses are on point.

when he looks around, seeing the teammates he knows can catch his sets and karasuno preparing their defense, his eyes instead flutter to you, in the corner on the benches, holding desperately onto two yellow water bottles. you’re wearing a normal tracksuit this time, but he still thinks it’s cute.

he tries not to think of you between rallies. not about how he’d like to see you cheer for him when he crushes your team. not about how he’s found the perfect dinner spot near the gymnasium to take you out to after the win. not about the satisfaction he’ll feel after seeing little tobio’s defeat and your hand in his. (assuming that a first date involves holding hands - atsumu’s never been on one.)

so, with only the third set left to win, atsumu doesn’t bother asking what could go wrong. because he knows to make sure that nothing, nothing at all, will result in a loss for inarizaki.

oh, how he was wrong.

when karasuno’s frustratingly good first year duo blocks his ball and sends it plummeting to the edge of the court, atsumu knows that the whistle that follows means that this might even be the last time he sees you this year - and what if you’re not at nationals next year?

the sting of losing comes first as the usual shaking hands and lining up to bow commences after the game, and as he says some last words to his teammates and school, he catches sight of you hugging the team’s other beautiful manager. you have tears of joy threatening to fall out of the corners of your eyes, and he admits you look precious with the edges of your mouth upturned and your cheekbones raised in a victorious smile.

he wants to see you like this with him. although he doesn’t know you at all, he doesn’t want to miss you; yet he can’t pinpoint why.

so after calling to hinata and telling him he’ll “set for him someday” (it was half-spite and half-promise, but it came out as a threat), atsumu’s gaze fixes on the back of the other side of the court at the benches where you are.

“‘tsumu, let’s go,” osamu calls back at him, and it brings him back to reality.

except reality’s a loss where he doesn’t get to see you in his life ever again. and though he’ll accept the outcome of a national-level volleyball match, he knows he can do something to at least catch up with you - he’s still got a few days in tokyo, after all.

“ah screw it!” atsumu mumbles to himself, and begins to suck up his pride. what he’s about to do will be either extremely embarrassing or extremely endearing, he thinks.

he walks up to the karasuno bench where you’re at the side, packing up the water bottles in a duffle bag to carry. you’re squatting down, unseeing of him, until there are a few footsteps and the feeling of a person behind you. you turn around, and it makes you stand up quickly.

you look at the setter, bleached hair untoned and face oddly satisfying to look at. you had paid a little too much attention to him during the opening ceremony, and though you had suppressed the knowledge of his ogling at you from yesterday, you can’t help but feel your attraction to the setter worsen with him right in front of you.

“you. meet me at the entrance,” atsumu invites, and though his face is obviously burning red, something about his words make your heart pump a little too fast.

it doesn’t take much contemplation to figure out your answer is yes. yet, somehow, saying yes while your heart suddenly changes its pace takes a little bit more time than you thought.

you’re about to reply when you see osamu call his brother loudly, making atsumu’s eyes go wide in embarrassment. you stifle a laugh, and you give him a subtle nod, though judging by the way he runs like he’s chasing an out-of-bounds ball, you reckon he might not have seen you.

again, you’re correct - atsumu thinks he’s just witnessed his own death, running fast at one of his only attempts at ever asking someone out.

how does one ask someone out? is it, like, ‘hey, wanna go on a date’? or is it, like, ‘hey i like you and i think you’re pretty and i tried to find you on instagram but i don’t know your name’? he agrees with himself that it’s safer to say the former.

atsumu is pulled back to his team, embarrassment seeping through his senses from his asking out on top of that familiar sting of losing. he changes into his sweatpants and jacket in silence, backpack worn tightly around his shoulders as the rest of the team walks through the venue.

“'samu, have you ever been turned down by a girl?” atsumu tries his best not to sound like he’s sulking (he is).

osamu hums, “what did you do to karasuno’s manager?”

“ugh, not telling.”

meanwhile, burning excitement and far-fetched fantasies finally hit you.

your heart now beats fast - maybe not as fast as when karasuno had anticipated atsumu’s serve, but still fast - and you’re not sure what kinds of chances you’ll get in the future.

there is an internal debate: there’s no denying the mutual attraction, so why stop? you want to tell yourself that nationals is for volleyball and for you to fill in for your friend yachi, but his words repeat themselves in your head, and it’s only mere seconds that pass before you know exactly what to do.

you come up to kiyoko, and she replies with a kind hum. you ask, “can i go... uh, buy some souvenirs real quick? i’ll bring this bag with the water bottles with me.”

she looks around first, “ah, how long will you be gone?”

“not long.”

“well, the boys are going to change, so, alright. don’t get lost, okay?”

“okay!” your feet bring you out of the court area, and into the maze of the gymnasium. (you have no idea where you’re going.)

it makes you think; is this all worth it for the stranger miya atsumu? maybe. maybe not. but you’ve gotten the chance - might as well take it.

there are things you whisper to yourself as you run around the foyer, unsure of which entrance he’d be most likely to meet you in, so you end up running to all of them. there are around five entrances total.

“this is so stupid,” is one of the things you whisper to yourself.

“he’s not even that cute,” is another.

“why couldn’t he just ask me out normally?” a sigh at the second entrance.

“ugh, but he’s... so good at volleyball,” a remark at the third entrance.

and finally, at the fifth entrance all the way at the back, “you!”

that is when you spot that familiar tuft of untoned bleached hair, swept to the left, his maroon club jacket replacing his jersey. you hope you’re not seeing a mirage, seeing as he hadn’t looked back when you first exclaimed of your presence.

your voice is louder and more embarrassing than his, “miya atsumu!”

now he looks.

now he turns red.

you see his brother osamu with some kind of amused grin as you grab onto the setter’s club jacket, dragging him somewhere. you mumble an ‘excuse me’ to his brother, and he surprisingly nods.

when you drag atsumu into a secluded corner still inside the venue, his face is bright red like you remember it. you let go of his arm, and it makes you cringe to see how you had literally just pulled japan’s number one high school setter by his sleeve.

“what was that?” atsumu fixes his bag. he tries to hide his incoming grin.

“you- you told me to meet you at the entrance,” you fumble with the ends of your jacket, “so i did.”

“huh,” atsumu mutters, matter-of-factly. he sounds amused. he looks at you with a smile. “i’m glad.”

there’s a silence as he offers to carry your bag. you let him.

“i know this place near this venue, do you- do you want to go there sometime?”

your ears perk up - it’s exactly what you want to hear. now, there is no contemplation.

you inhale. “yeah. i would like that.”

atsumu takes a deep breath, and he smiles like a happy child. you tell him your full name, and he tells you his, even though he knows you already know it.

it turns out, the first time you really meet miya atsumu, he is seventeen, wearing his dishevelled maroon club jacket, and so not ready to miss you.

and thank god; he was definitely going to see you again.

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu fluff #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu #hq fluff #atsumu scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #atsumu imagines #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #ahhh not my best work :((#but enjoy !!!#THANK YOU ANON FOR THE REQUEST

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scotianostra · 2 years ago

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On March 5th 1759 the lexicographer and church minister John Jamieson was born in Glasgow.

I know most of you will not have heard of Jamieson, but his publication, Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language, is credited with keeping the language alive. He was a bit of a polymath though and learned in many fields.

The language I am talking about here is Scots, the Scot’s Tongue as it is often referred to, If you have read some of my posts I like to dig out documents etc from days gone by, a most of these are written in Scots, you only have to read the poetry of Robert Fergusson or Rabbie Burns, the vast majority which is written in the language, or up to modern times if you have read any of Irvine Welsh’s books, you will know that as a language it is distinctly different to what is termed as “proper English”

Anyway a bit about the man, Jamieson grew up in Glasgow as the only surviving son in a family with an invalid father, he entered Glasgow University aged at the staggeringly young age of just nine! From 1773 he studied the necessary course in theology with the Associate Presbytery of Glasgow, and in 1780 he was licensed to preach.

Jamieson was appointed to serve as minister to the newly established Secession congregation in Forfar, and stayed there for the next eighteen years, during which time he married Charlotte Watson, the daughter of a local widower, and started a family. Their marriage lasted fifty-five years and they had seventeen children, ten of whom reached adulthood, although only three outlived their father. He next became minister of the Edinburgh Nicolson Street congregation in 1797 where he guided the reconciliation of the Burgher and Anti-Burgher sects to a union in 1820.

In 1788 Jamieson’s writing was recognised by Princeton College, New Jersey where he received the degree of Doctor of Divinity. His other honours included membership of the Society of Scottish Antiquaries, of the Royal Physical Society of Edinburgh, of the American Antiquarian Society of Boston, United States, and of the Copenhagen Society of Northern Literature. He was also a royal associate of the first class of the Royal Society of Literature instituted by George IV.

Jamieson’s chief work, the Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language was published in two volumes in 1808 and was the standard reference work on the subject until the publication of the Scottish National Dictionary in 1931. He published several other works, but it is the dictionary he is best known for.

He had a particular passion for numismatics, and it was their mutual interest in coins which led to the first meeting between Jamieson and Walter Scott, in 1795, when Scott was only twenty-three and not yet a published author. Jamieson was also a keen angler, as the many entries relating to fishing terms in the Dictionary attest; and published occasional works of poetry, including a poem against the slave trade which was praised by abolitionists in its day. Entries provided by Scott include besom, which he described as a “low woman or prostitute,” and screed, defined as a “long revel” or “hearty drinking bout”. I wonder how many Scottish females have been called “a wee besom” by their mothers with neither really knowing it’s true meaning!

Jamieson’s association with Walter Scott was a two way thing, he wrote a Scots poem ‘The Water Kelpie’ for the second edition of Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.

It was through his antiquarian research that Jamieson developed his practice of tracing words (particularly place-names) to their earliest form and occurrence: a method which was to be the foundation of the historical approach he would use in the Dictionary.

Jamieson wrote on other themes: rhetoric, cremation, and the royal palaces of Scotland, besides publishing occasional sermons. In 1820 he issued edited versions of Barbour’s The Brus and Blind Harry’s Wallace.

Revered by authors including Hugh MacDiarmid, who used it to shape his poetic output, Jamieson’s dictionary has long been regarded as a crucial groundwork which kept alive the Scots language at a time when it was in danger of falling into obscurity.

John Jamieson died on July 22nd 1839 and has a fine gravestone in St Cuthbert’s graveyard in Edinburgh, as seen in the fourth pic.

#scotland #scottish #history #lexicographer #dictionary #church minister #historian #glaswegian

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all-my-love-for-harry · 4 years ago

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Delicate. — Part 1.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: Here we are fam, i gotta be honest with y’all, this is heavily inspired in the fact that i watched Miss Americana twice this month, what resulted in me going through my taylor swfit phase again. Pls bare with me, i haven’t written anything like this before.

catch up here!

They said artists become what they are because deep down they are as insecure if not more than normal people. Because they craved constant validation in what they do.

At least it was the case for Y/n.

A girl who has built an entire system around being accepted by the public, someone who their major source of happiness is provided by strangers all around the world. When you are living from the approval of strangers and that is where you drive all your joy and fulfillment, one bad thing can cause everything to go down. Y/n has spent her whole life trying to please the world so they would like her, so what she has achieved over the years would last.

When the world turned their back on her, Y/n had no choice but to disappear, because she thought that was what everyone wanted. Even then, she made her choices around what she thought would make them happy.

Y/n knew she could not hide forever, but for now, it was a necessary evil she had to take. Deciding to take a break from everything was the healthiest decision she has ever made, shutting down her social media, getting out of the city and going back home with her family was exactly what she needed.

"Mom was sad she couldn't pick you up from the airport."

Seventeen-year-old Jensen, whose driving license was still new and fresh, was the one who picked Y/n up when her flight landed. In complete honesty, she did not like using a private plane, but she could not risk someone seeing where she was going. Jensen was good at driving, well, he has not crashed into a tree yet, so they were safe.

"She would've brought Chase and scare Pandora and Lizzie."

Jensen chuckled. "She's obsessed with him. I haven't started college yet and she's already thinking about turning my room into Chase's."

Her parents’ house was a gated property away from others since it was safer that way. Y/n would not stay there the whole time since she had her own apartment a little closer to town. Her luggage, as well as her cats, were picked up separately and taken to her home, she would go there after lunch with her family. Jensen parked next to a black range rover that belonged to their dad, meaning both of their parents were home.

Y/n threw her backpack over her shoulder as she stepped out of the car, eager to finally reunite with her family, especially her mother. She is in desperate need of a tight hug, a mug of hot chocolate and a shoulder to cry on. Y/n did not realize how mentally drained she was until she saw her mother open the front door.

"My baby!" Louise exclaimed, embracing her daughter in a tight hug. "How was the flight?"

"It was fine. I'm starving though."

They walked into the living room and Louise closed the door behind them. Y/n dropped her backpack on one of the couches and sighed in relief. “Where’s dad?” Jensen went straight to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“Get the white wine.” Y/n told him.

“It’s too early to drink that.” Louise took the bottle from Jensen’s hands and put it back in the fridge. “Dad’s outside. We bought some roses that will look beautiful by the pool.”

“You’re buying a lot of plants lately.” Y/n pointed a big vase full of daisies, her mom’s favorites, on the kitchen’s island.

“I like supporting local business.” She shrugged.

“That and she’s obsessed with the owner of the flower shop.” Jensen chuckled, cracking open a water bottle.

“Hey! That’s not true.”

“Mom, you there like… every day. Who needs new flowers every day?”

“Shush.” The elder woman faked offense then gigged. “Handsome young man, he is. I’ll take you tomorrow.” She turned to Y/n.

“Oh, no, mom. I’m going to lock myself in my apartment and try to write.” She said, making Louise scoff. “I’m serious!”

“I know you are. But living like a hermit is not going to do you any good.”

“I agree, sis.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, knowing they were right as always but did not want to admit it. The truth was, she wanted to write some songs, so badly, but could not find the right words. She was hoping to get some peace and quiet to get her ideas and emotions in order again. Before any of them could say anything else, David entered the kitchen while taking off his gardening gloves and smiled widely when he spotted Y/n.

“And who do we have here?”

“Hi, dad.” Y/n smiled at him brightly before wrapping her arms around her dad, who hugged her back just as tight.

“Good to have you home, darling.”

The family of four sat on the kitchen island and started to catch up. Jensen talked about his different college options and how he was considering getting a summer job this year. Louise kept talking about how nice the owner of this flower shop was, making emphasis on how he was also single. Y/n didn’t know what she was trying to do, but she didn’t pay much attention either.

Overall it was nice for Y/n to get out of her head for a little bit, and her family was always a great help for that. She knew she still had a lot to deal with, and she would probably get a call from her publicist and a lot of other people soon, but for now, she just wanted to think about anything else that wasn't the whole world hating on her.

"How are you doing, Y/n? Be honest." Her mom asked after they stayed alone in the kitchen.

"Been better." She sighed. "I don't want to think about it, mom."

"You have to talk to someone, sweetie. I know your team cares for you and is trying to handle the situation, but you can still talk to me."

"I know, thank you. I'm just trying to figure it what I'm going to do."

Louise sighed. "You sure you don't want to stay here? You have your room and everything."

"Thanks for the offer, mom. But I sort of want to be on my own." She said. "But I'll come for lunch every day, I promise."

Although Louise wasn't convinced by her daughter's words, she chose to not push it. She knew Y/n had her own ways to express her feelings, and she'd talk whenever she felt like it. So she let her go, making her promise she'd come to visit soon.

"Do you need a ride? I'm going to town anyway." Jensen offered, taking the keys of his car from the little plate they kept on the table beside the front door.

"Yes, please."

The drive to her apartment wasn't a long one, and in less than ten minutes she was opening her front door and being greeted by her two beautiful cats rubbing themselves on her legs. Y/n sighed, thinking about how much she needed to unpack now that she was here. The truth was, she didn't know for how long she'd be staying here, but she figured it'd be a long time so she packed a lot. Now she kind of regretted it because she would probably be in her pajamas all day anyway.

After cleaning Pandora and Lizzie's sandbox, Y/n decided to grab an acoustic guitar and try to come up with some melodies. She wasn't quite sure about any lyrics yet, but it was always good to have a little something to start a song.

She went from playing the guitar to play the piano, hoping she'd get more inspirations somewhere. But she had nothing. Not even one decent note. She was empty.

"Don't pretend is... mhmm. Think about the... No." She groaned and slammed the palm of her hands on the keyboard, growing frustrated. Why all of a sudden she couldn't even rhyme? Maybe she needed a break, or perhaps she was tired from her flight and tomorrow she'd be able to write something.

Turns out her writer's block was here to stay. A week has passed since her arrival and Y/n hasn't been able to finish one single song. Everything she started ended up being erased or in the middle of her living room after the ripped the page off her journal.

"I told you, you shouldn't hurry. Inspiration will come eventually, it always does."

"I guess. I just have nothing else to do other than play scrabble with you and write songs, or at least try to."

"Let me take out then." Louise started and Y/n shakes her head. "C'mon, let's eat somewhere or buy groceries and I'll cock at your place." Y/n looked at her mom and realized she wouldn't stop until she accepted, so Y/n offered Louise a nod. "Marvelous. There's this little café that I absolutely love. You'll love the owner."

"What is it with you and the owners of local shops?"

"They're my friends. Oh! We could drop by Blossom House. You could use some flowers around your house so it would look like somebody actually lives there."

"Stop dragging me, woman."

Louise drove them to this café called Furry Cakes, which turned out to be a cat café. Y/n obviously lost it as soon as they walked in, and nearly cried when she saw all the kittens, and absolutely shed a tear when the girl behind the register said every kitty except for one named Chaster was up for adoption. She felt like a little girl all over again when her mom told her she couldn't take every single kitty home.

Y/n was wearing a hoodie that was twice her size, plus some big sunglasses she refused to take off, even inside of the café. She was praying she wouldn't get recognized as she knew people were dying for a picture of her, see how she was after the entire world canceled her.

"We'll leave the car parked here, the flower shop is just around the corner." Louise pulled from Y/n's hand to make her walk faster. There weren't a lot of people on the streets and she was grateful for that, she hasn't gotten a proper walk in what felt like ages.

They stopped outside a modern-looking building with a big, bright sign that read 'The Blossom House'. It was simple yet cute. The pair stepped in and a little bell ringed. Y/n looked around, admiring how everything looked like it was straight out of a fairytale. There were little pots hanging from the ceiling and she looked up, she saw the ceiling was pure glass, which made the whole place brighter. Flowers weren't really her thing as she could barely keep them alive, but seeing this amount of flowers all in the same place... made her somewhat happy and warm inside.

She was so deep in thought she didn't even realize her mom left her and was nowhere to be found. It doesn't look like it from outside, but the shop was actually big and very spacious. It was also empty right now, not even an employee was around, so she decided to have a look on her own. It looked like they had all kinds of flowers in here, which made her even more excited because that meant they had-

"Azaleas? They're also my favorites." A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. She jumped on her place as she wasn't expecting it, which made the person behind her chuckle. "I didn't mean to scare you, sorry."

"It's okay..." She turned around and it was fair to say that was she saw stunned her right away.

In front of her, a gorgeous looking man was standing there with a bright smile on his face. She noticed the two dimples poking at each side of his face, making his smile even more beautiful. His emerald green eyes were the greenest eyes she has ever seen in her life, she believed. He had crinkles by his eyes due to his smile being wide. But to her, the icing of the cake was the beautiful mop of chocolate curls he had on the top of his head. She suddenly felt the insane urge to run her hands through it just to see if they were as soft as they looked.

"Harry, darling!" Louise appeared out of nowhere and wrapped her arms around the man, who only chuckled while reciprocating the greeting.

"Hello, Louise. What's it gonna be today? Tulips? More daisies?" Oh God, he's British. Y/n thought to herself.

"Gosh, you know me so well. I'm actually here just to look around, I see you found my daughter though." She smirked.

"I surely did. I'm Harry, nice to meet you, love." He offered her a hand for her to shake.

Y/n was a little surprised by the pet name but took his hand nonetheless. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you too."

"I want her to get some plants for her house." Louise spoke again.

"Well, you're in the right place then." He said. "Do you want them for your garden?"

"No, uhm... I don't have one. I live in an apartment."

"Personally, my favorite to keep indoors are Begonias." Harry guided the two women to a different section of the flower shop and pointed to some pretty ones in pink color. "But I also enjoy Daylilies, although they're a little harder to maintain."

"Yeah, maybe not those then. I'm not very good at keeping plants alive."

"She killed a cactus once." Louise mentioned.

"No way."

"I didn't know they'd drown if I watered them more than once a week!" Y/n defended herself.

"Amateur mistake." He joked.

The truth was Y/n was too busy to have a garden, she was always traveling and didn't stay too long in one place so even if she tries to have one, it'd be dead by the end of the month.

"What plants are cat friendly? I have two at home."

"Bromeliads are cat friendly, they're easy to maintain too."

They looked around for a little bit. Harry said a fun fact about every type of flower Y/n pointed out, never failing to make her laugh. The funny thing was, it didn't look like Harry knew who she was. Either he hasn't recognized her, or he didn't know about her. Which by the way, not to be a narcissist, would be highly unlikely.

She ended up taking a couple of new plants home, starting to grow excited about them. It was true, her apartment could use a little more life to it, and now she was sure her new plants would do that for her. Harry was wrapping everything for them while he stood behind the counter.

"Oh, here. This one's on the house." Harry handed her a pot with some beautiful blue Azaleas. She took them with a growing blush on her face, a blush that went deeper when their hands brushed with each other. "Try to not kill them though." He teased.

Y/n rolled her eyes as her mom chuckled behind her. "I'll report their aliveness back to you, you'll see."

"You better. Have a nice day, ladies. I'm guessing I'll see you around, Y/n?"

"Sure, I'm uh... I'm living here right now."

Harry smiled at them one last time before they exited the shop. After the door closed behind them, Louise turned to Y/n. "He likes you."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"What do you say if we invite him for dinner sometime?"

"Like, at your house?" She asked surprised.

"Yeah, why not?"

"I have to keep a low profile, mother. For all I know he could be tweeting about I just exited his shop."

"Don't let the paranoia ruin the possibility of forming new friendships... or more." Louise sent her a wink.

"Okay, that's enough."

Y/n brushed her off, trying not to think much about it. A new friendship sounded impossible at this point of her life, let alone pursuing a new relationship with someone. She had made up her mind, she was better off being alone.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles series #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluffy imagine #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #florist!harry styles

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babymetaldoll · 3 years ago

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Danger Days - Chapter eleven: "Falling in love will kill you"

Word count: 6,3K

Summary: Gerard is struggling to keep his shit together now that he knows Joey is going to marry Gubler. New Year is the perfect time to tell the news to the band. We can finally know why Joey has so many trust issues.

Warnings: Cursing, mention of kids being assholes, and rough childhood. Jealousy. Mention of sex. Someone calls Matthew "Matt."

A/N: I don't know what else to say but THANK YOU FOR READING

Masterlist

::: December 31th :::

Gerard hated himself. It had been a week since he finally faced the fact his crush on Joey had evolved into something he couldn't control. He was falling in love with her. Can you love two people? He had no idea, but it felt his feelings for the drummer were getting as intense as the one he had for his wife. He loved his wife, and he would never do anything to hurt her. But at the very same time, he couldn't stop thinking about Joey. He wanted her to be his.

- "Mine?! What kind of sick idea is that?"- he asked himself as he drove around town on his own, trying to clear his mind, that had been a mess ever since Christmas.

- "I have to get that girl out of my mind! This makes no fucking sense!"- he lit another cigarette and held the steering wheel hard, feeling his hands sweating.

He had been a mess all those days, looking at footage of the tour just to see the girl, hear her laughter, see her talking with pretty much everybody else but him. Never to him. Why? Did she hate him? Wasn't he nice enough for her? Wasn't he charming enough? Cute enough? What?

- "Could she be crushed on me too? And that's why she is avoiding me?"- she said out loud to himself, and his heart beat faster in his chest. Could it be? But what could he do if she did? Nothing, he was married. He wasn't going to cheat on Lynz with that girl. Was he?

- "Of course not!"- he wanted to slap himself- "I am not doing anything! I am not doing anything!"

But it was more complicated than he thought, he had to see her that night 'cos Mikey had organized a whole New Year's Eve party, and everybody was going to be there. Even Ray and Frankie had flown to the party with their families.

- "And she is engaged! for Christ Sakes!!"

Gerard kept talking on his own, smoking and drinking the third coffee of the morning. He felt sick in the stomach, but he knew it wasn't either of those things. It was his stupid crush.

- "Well, I don't really care if she is engaged! she could be mine anyway. Who the fucking hell cares about that guy? I bet he doesn't even love her! I love her!"- Gerard Way sighed and closed his eyes for a second.

- "You don't fucking love her!!"- he yelled and hit the steering wheel.

He didn't love her. He couldn't love her. Why would he? He didn't know much about her. He kept repeating those arguments in his head to convince himself he was just a crazy asshole about that whole thing. It wasn't real. It was just his mind playing fucking tricks with him.

- "She is in love with someone else, you are in love with someone else, you have been happy with your wife for years! This shit makes no fucking sense!! I knew having that girl in the band was the worst idea we've ever had."

Gerard was just kidding himself. He loved having Joey on the team. He loved how that tour had gone so far, the energy in the shows, the laughter in the rehearsals... everything. Even when she really didn't talk with him so much.

- "Why doesn't she fucking like me?!"- the singer was acting childish, but he couldn't help it, just like he couldn't help end up driving over her house. He knew the road too well, even when he had just been there once. He had made his way over a million times in his mind, just to make sure he wasn't going to forget it.

- "What the fuck are you doing?"- Gerard asked himself as he parked outside Joey's building. He looked up to her floor with the honest hope to see her there staring outside the window. Maybe if he saw her, that whole crush/love thing would be over. Perhaps it just was his mind screwing with him. It could be an effect of spending so much time with her. He wasn't really around a lot of other women on tour. Maybe that was it. Not love at all.

- "Please don't do this"- he begged himself as he opened the car's door. He put one foot outside and sighed. Was he doing it? He stepped back into the car and slammed the door.

- "You are not doing this, Gerard!"

But he was.

Gerard got out of the car and walked to the building. He hesitated for a few seconds but continued his way. He opened the front door and stayed still.

- "And what are you gonna say? Hello, are you crushed on me"?- he whispered and brushed his hands on his face, like trying to rearrange his thoughts with that movement. It didn't work, obviously.

- "There is no way you are doing this,"- he thought, even when his feet were moving towards the elevator quickly.

- "Please stop, what the fuck are you doing?"- he argued with his body, but still, he didn't stop.- "You are gonna make a fool out of yourself, you know that, don't you?"

The elevator door opened, and Gerard set foot on Joey's floor. That's when he stayed still. He noticed his hands were shaking. That's how nervous he was over her. The last time he had been so fluttered for a girl was the day he asked his wife to marry him.

After a few deep breaths, Gerard walked over to the drummer's door and held his breath for a few seconds before knocking. There was no way back now. Well, he could still run, but there weren't many places to hide. Silence. It seemed there wasn't anybody home. He waited a little longer but didn't knock again. No one answered the door, and Gerard sighed, relieved. She wasn't there. He wasn't going to make a fool out of himself. After a few seconds, he turned around and headed to the stairs, smiling.

- "Hey! Gerard!"- the girl's voice made him jump on his stop as she appeared at her door and smiled- "What are you doing here?"

- "I was... eh..."- he stuttered as he strolled back to her apartment- "I just..."

- "I haven't seen you since we came back from touring. Come in!"

And the singer smiled, so nervous Joey could tell there was something wrong.

- "How are you?"- he managed to say, feeling his cheeks red.

- "Great! Sorry, I couldn't open the door faster, I was in the bedroom."

- "Don't worry"- Joey stared at him in silence and smiled. She was actually happy to see him, just not as excited as he was. And neither as nervous.

- "Would like something to drink?"- the girl walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge- "Juice? Diet coke? Water?"

- "I'm ok, thanks. I just finished a coffee."

- "I also have coffee,"- she said and turned to him smiling- "I am actually gonna have another coffee."

Gerard nodded and did his best to rearrange the thoughts in his head. So far, the only thing he knew was that his crush didn't fade away when he saw her. If anything, it got worse.

- "Ok, asshole, you got here even when I told you it was a bad idea. What are you gonna do now?"- his brain made him feel like an idiot, and he completely agreed. He felt like an idiot standing in the middle of Joey's kitchen in complete silence.

- "So, what brings you over?"- Joey asked, and her eyes shone as she sipped her cup of fresh coffee.

- "I actually wanted to..."- Gerard made a pause and sighed. His heart was about to come through his throat.

- "Hey Gerard!"- and suddenly, shit got even worse, 'cos Matthew appeared next to him in boxers and t-shirt with a big "I just had sex" smile.

- "Of course he was here, you asshole!! Of course, they were having sex, and that's why it took her so long to answer! Of course, you are completely out of place here! now, how the fuck are you getting out of this?"- Gerard shook Matthew's hand and did his best to remain as relaxed and calmed as possible.

- "Hey, dude! So glad you are here too. Mikey told me the news the other day, but I was too busy to come, and it was too impersonal to just call, so... congratulations on the engagement!"- words just came out of Gerard's lips as he smiled, proud of his shitty lie.

- "Aww! thank you so much for driving over!!"- Joey smile blushing, and gave him a small hug- "You didn't have to."

- "Actually, I was on my way over to get a few things for Mikey's party tonight"- lies kept flying out of Way's lips- "Good one, don't make her feel special," And I thought I couldn't just keep on delaying this forever!"

- "Thank you so much"- Matthew smiled and walked to Joey, wrapping his arms around her waist as he stood behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. Gerard looked at him and did his best to sound as honest as possible.

- "I'm very happy you are getting married. Lynz keeps telling me you two are a very cute couple"- Joey blushed and nodded.

- "Tell her thank you from us..."

- "Are you coming tonight to Mikey's party?"

- "Yeah, of course, we are!"- Gubler answered, and Gerard hated that- "But we are going to stop by my friend's party first, so we could be a little late."- and he kissed Joey's neck as soon as he stopped talking.

To Gerard, it was clear Matthew was showing she was his territory, and it bothered Way so much to see Joey wasn't doing anything about it. If anything, she was enjoying it.

- "Well, make sure you get there before they drop the ball; Mikey is really excited about this. You two have to be there. He hasn't been excited about many things lately"- Gerard looked at Joey and smiled- "Well, I have to get going now, again, congratulation, guys! See you guys later!"- he shook Gubler's hand and waved at Joey.

- "Bye!"- the singer got outside that apartment as fast as he could.

- "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!"- he repeated over and over in his mind as he fought the urge to smash his head against the wall. It wasn't just the fact that now he knew the actor hated him and knew he had a thing on his girl, but now he knew for sure it wasn't just a crush. He wanted her for himself.

- "So, where were we?"- Joey asked as he turned around and kissed Matthew's lips fiercely.

- "You were about to... take a shower 'cos I have to show you something important."

- "Oh, come on"- she whined and bit his lower lip- "Can we do it again? Just once? A quicky."

- "Nope"- he answered, chuckling- "Maybe when we come back."

- "What if when we come back, I don't wanna do it"- the girl answered and raised an eyebrow.

- "I guess... I can always try to persuade you..."- Matthew wrapped his arms around her tight and lifted her to carry her to the nearest couch- "I could kiss you for hours and see if you change your mind."

- "We should give it a try... daddy"- the girl whispered, kissing her fiancé, making him shiver.

- "Yes, we should... but first, we have to go"- Gubler stood up and held Joey's hand, who started whining again as the two of them walked to the bedroom.

- "You are gonna love this, Yami, so stop whimpering"- he chuckled and watched her taking off the small amount of cloth she was wearing and getting into the shower.

- "Fine, but this better be good, and it better includes a coffee."

- "Another coffee? You were drinking one five seconds ago."

- "I know... but it's new year's eve. We should get filled with caffeine to make it through the night."

- "You are right. I need a few more cups of coffee too."

- "Good, listen to your future wife. She is always right,"- Joey yelled from the shower and missed Matthew's reaction at his words. He smiled so wide he felt his face was staying like that forever.

- "I swear I will"- Gubler walked around the room, getting dressed too. At least he had already showered- "Hey, Yami?"

- "Yes, Gublerneritor?"

- "Is it just me, or Gerard was weird today?"- the actor made sure his words sounded as casually as possible.

- "I know! I felt it too!"- the girl answered in total honesty- "He looked kinda shaky."

- "Yeah..."- Matthew made a pause and thought about his words very carefully- "Yami?"

- "Yes?"

- "Have you ever thought maybe he..."

- "Not Matthew Gray, he doesn't have a crush on me"- the girl quickly answered and closed her eyes for a second, thankful she was in the shower while that conversation was taking place- "Actually, I've always thought the total opposite."

- "Why?"- Joey walked out of the shower and wrapped herself with a clean towel, walking to the room to look for some clean clothes.

- "He is always pretty cold and distant with me, we don't talk much, we've had the "I don't hate you" talk at least twice, cos it feels after our rocky start, we really haven't gotten along"- Joey smiled at Matthew and walked to the closet- "Except for that nap you took together and the movies you watched together alone in your bed, and the times you stare at him totally nervous... I'm never doing any of that again."

- "Maybe that's why he was so nervous"- Matthew said and looked at Joey getting dressed- "Maybe coming to congratulate us was his way to make amends."

- "Or maybe he felt forced to do it... maybe his wife made him."

- "Maybe..."- Gubler looked at Joey for a few seconds, and a little smiled lodged on his lips- "You look so pretty."

- "In a black dress?"

- "In pretty much anything you wear."

- "Not everything?!"- the girl pretended to be shocked.

- "Sorry, I don't like it when you wear pajamas. I like it more when you sleep naked"- her fiancé simply answered, and she blushed.

- "Sorry, some nights I get cold."

- "I'm never gonna let you be cold ever again"- he walked over and landed his hands on her hips- "With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

Matthew smiled and held her hand, kissing it. He recited The Corpse's Bride wedding vows, and his fiancé's heart was melting, and her eyes were full with tears.

- "Stop making me cry"- she whispered and stared into his hazel eyes, feeling waves of love- "I love that movie."

- "This "we are getting married" thing keeps me excited about all the future we will share, Yami."

- "I know!"- she grinned and jumped, making Matthew laugh.

- "Ok, come on, let's go."

- "Where?"

- "First to get coffee, then to see my surprise."

Mikey walked around his house and looked at everything he had ready for his New Year party. There was a little tiny part of him that was excited about it. His friends were going to be there, he was finally selling the house, so it was going to be the last evening in a place that, at this point, only caused him pain. He had even spent a few nights in a hotel just 'cos he didn't want to be home alone with his memories.

- "Hey!"- Frank, Jamia, and the babies walked over smiling. They had been staying with him since they arrived from Jersey the day before.

- "Do you need help with anything?"- Frank asked and lit a cigarette staying as far as the babies as possible.

- "Nah, I'm cool..."

- "You don't look real excited about this party. It's gonna be awesome!"- Frank was pretty psyched, he hadn't partied in a while... well, since Joey's birthday, but he was looking forward to having a fun night with friends and his wife.

- "I am, I just need more coffee... I'll make more coffee"- the youngest Way walked back into the house straight to the kitchen.

- "We'll be there around 11"- he read Joey's text and sighed.

- "It will be too late to get drunk together."

- "But not too late to puke the pool"- Mikey smiled

- "Why on earth are you coming so fucking late to the party I fucking organized to tell people you are getting married?"- he said as soon as Joey picked up the phone, and Mikey heard her laughing right away.

- "Sorry, but I swear we'll be there before they drop the ball"- the girl answered- "You are on speaker, by the way."

- "Hey Mikey!!"- Matthew yelled, driving.

- "Hey Gubler! Why are you keeping my sister from her party?"

- "Sorry! My friends asked us to be there for their dinner, but it's earlier, so you won't even notice."

- "I've been keeping your engagement a fucking secret for a week. Do you know how hard this is?"

- "You sucked at it!!"- Joey yelled, laughing- "Gerard appeared at my house today to congratulate us."

- "What the fuck?"- Mikey frowned, not getting what his brother had done- "Well, yeah, he heard me say it at Christmas, but... well, it's nice of him to move his ass and congratulate you."

- "Yeah, I know, I'm just saying you couldn't keep it a secret."

- "No one else knows, I swear, you are gonna overshadow the whole New Year's eve with your news, Bug"- Joey kept laughing as Matthew looked at her and smiled, happy.

- "Mikey, can I ask you for a favor?"

- "Whatever you need, Gubler."

- "Can you finally send me the videos of Joey's birthday at the karaoke?"- the bassist burst out laughing, and Joey quickly yelled no.

- "Don't you fucking dare, Michael James!!"

- "What are you middle naming me for? I haven't done anything!"

- "You two have been talking about those videos for way too long! And I am not gonna let my future husband see me doing such a sad show. He might reconsider the whole wedding!"

- "There is no way we are considering that! You've got a ring, this thing is on!!"- Matthew laughed and slowed down the car- "Mikey Mike, we have to go now, we just got where we were going, and I can't wait to show it to my girl, we'll see you tonight, hopefully not as drunk as the last time."

Mikey laughed, thinking about their very private engagement celebration (just the three of them). They had gotten pretty hammered playing Uno. And they had a lot of fun.

- "See you guys later; maybe we can check the videos with the guys. I'm pretty sure Ray got an amazing performance of Bug singing Megadeth with him."

- "Shit! I liked you better when you weren't best friends! bye bróðir!"- Joey and Matthew said goodbye and chuckled. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow- "What are we doing here, Akumu?"

- "This is my surprise, come on"- the young man opened the door and quickly ran to open his girl's door and held her hand.

- "Nice neighborhood"- she said and looked at the house in front of her. It was more like a castle, a haunted house, or a giant treehouse.

- "Do you like it?"- Matthew asked and kept holding her hand tight.

- "It's beautiful"

- "I'm glad you liked it, 'cos I bought it for us"- Joey froze.

- "What?"- and Matthew looked at her, smiling like a maniac.

- "This will be our house, Mrs. Gubler!!"

- "Oh my god!!"- the girl covered her mouth wide, opening her eyes, in absolute shock- "It's huge!"

- "And it's gonna be our home, to create all the weird little places we want!"- Matthew kissed Joey as the girl kept jumping.

- "I can't fucking believe this!! Matthew!! you got a house?"

- "No, Yami. We've got a house"- he corrected and felt her lips softly on his.

- "You paid it with your work Akumu, it's your house."

- "I bought it for us, and you are gonna help me make it our home. Come on, look at this, we can do whatever we want in this place!!"

Matthew was excited, and Joey was overwhelmed. He had gotten a house. That was huge. But he had paid for it, and she hadn't put a penny. She couldn't just let him buy a house for them. They had to share all the expenses. Sure, he made way more money than she did, but that didn't mean she wanted to be a maintained wife.

- "This is where I want to build our fireplace. I thought we could customize every single room in here. We have to have your music room back there"- he held her hand and crawled her around, laughing, nearly in hyperventilation.

- "Matthew..."

- "This is the kitchen where I will make you breakfast every morning"- no one could doubt he was happy.

- "Akumu..."- she tried to talk to him, but her fiancé was too excited and nearly ran upstairs

- "And up here we are gonna have our room, look! It has an amazing view, and I am going to paint here, and you are going to be my muse, and we are going to be so happy! And we are gonna fill this place with kids!"- Joey's heart kept racing with every word from Matthew's lips.

- "Akumu, I love everything."

- "And I love you!"- he quickly replied and held her tight, spinning her in the air- "You make me so happy!!"

- "You make me happy too, but... I also wanna pay for the house."

- "What?"- he frowned, not getting what Joey was saying.

- "Yeah, I mean, you bought a house, and it's awesome! I love it. I love you for doing it. But if it's gonna be my house too, I wanna pay the mortgage with you"- Matthew looked at her, confused

- "But..."

- "But? What?"

- "I..."- Matthew looked at his girlfriend in silence- "You are unique."

- "Meaning?"- the girl frowned and kept her eyes on his, not even blinking.

- "You never do what other people do."

- "People would take advantage of the guy buying them a house?"- he nodded and kissed her lips.

- "I don't care about the money Yami, I care about being with you."

- "I know that... but I care about not feeling like a burden."

- "Never! You are never going to be a burden to me."

- "I will feel like one if you don't let me pay for this house with you; I won't feel it like mine either. It would be your house, forever."

- "Our house, Yami"- he leaned over and kissed her sweetly- "This is our house"- Joey looked at him and waited for his words- "Of course, you can pay the mortgage with me, but that means you have to make breakfast too."

- "Deal"- she answered and grinned- "I love you, Matthew Gray Gubler."

- "I love you, Maria Josefina Sveinbjörndottir."

Ray and Frank were having the time of their lives. They were on fire with Mikey's party. All of their friends were there from hands and from recording in Los Angeles so many times. It was an amazing reunion. Gerard tried to look calmed and natural, but he was freaking out, constantly looking at the door. He was sure Matthew knew he was crushed on his girlfriend, and he didn't know if he was going to do or say anything. What if he confronted him in front of Lynz?

- "Are you ok?"- his wife asked as she wrapped an arm around him and rested her head on his shoulder. He hugged her carefully and kissed her temple.

- "Yeah, I think I need an extra coffee to make it to midnight."

- "Bug!!"- Mikey yelled and ran to the door as Joey and Gubler walked into the house. Gerard lit a cigarette immediately and tried to look away. But he couldn't. He had to know what Matthew was doing. And Matthew was hugging Mikey. What the fuck??

- "What? are they best friends or something? What the fuck is going on? Why are they hugged? What did I miss?"

- "You know, I'm so happy your brother has Joey"- Gerard's eyes opened wide at his wife's words- "I mean it, she is the only one of his friends that's not related to Alicia in any way. I think that's why he enjoys his time with her so much."

- "Could be... he is very friendly with Matthew too..."- Gerard whispered, and Lynz nodded.

- "Which is great, 'cos her boyfriend won't get all jealous of him when you guys are touring."

- "Yeah, that's right."

- "Jersey!! Dad!! I am so happy to see you!!"- the girl ran to his friends and hugged them both tight.

Matthew looked at her and smiled, following her. It seemed now that she had agreed to marry him, he was more confident around the band, except for Gerard. Matthew hated Gerard. He was now sure he had a crush or something like that in Joey, and he was aware she had no idea.

- "Iceland!!"

Frank hugged her tight and took a deep breath to enjoy her perfume. He loved having her around, and he still loved catching her attention. He would still think of her as a totally doable girl, but the drummer wasn't a distraction when he was around Jamia. Maybe that's what she turned into while touring, something funny to persuade, someone to flirt with.

- "I missed you, kid!!"- Ray said and kissed her forehead- "Hey Matthew! I'm happy to see you!"

- "Hey guys!!"- Gubler smiled at the bunch and shook Jamia's and Christa's hands. Frank and Joey stared at each other, giggling, not saying a word as Mrs. Iero chuckled nervously as she stood in front of Matthew.

- "Oh my God!!!"- Joey turned around to burst out laughing along with Frank. Their faces were red as tears fell from their eyes. Jamia was blushing as she wouldn't stop staring at Matthew. She just found him so incredibly attractive she was melting.

- "What is it?"- Matthew asked, not getting what was going on.

- "Dude, it's useless"- Ray answered, tapping on his back- "They are gonna be like that for a while."

- "Really?"

Gubler stared at her girlfriend and bit his lips. She looked so happy; he had never seen her that happy amongst people. She was always lovely with his friends, and everybody loved her. They were all incredibly excited about their wedding, especially Paget. She had jumped over Joey the second they walked into her house earlier that night. But this was the first time Joey had friends, and Matthew had just realized how much she needed them.

- "I'm sorry, dork"- Joey wiped off the tears from her eyes and wrapped an arm around her fiancé- "Frank and I have an inside joke that goes way back, I'll tell you later"- he smiled and kissed her softly.

- "That's fine. And do you wanna tell them now?"

- "Yes"- she whispered, nodding- "Wait, where's Gerard?"- she asked and took a look around.

- "Gee!!"- Mikey yelled and waved at his brother, who walked over with his wife a few seconds later.

- "Hey Lynz!"- Joey smiled at Mrs. Way and at her husband. Gubler was way more friendly than he thought he would be 'cos he didn't want to make a fuzz. Gubler didn't want to make Joey uncomfortable in front of her friends. Gerard was a subject of a conversation he had to know how to face at another time.

- "Ok, ready?"- Matthew asked Joey and looked at her smiling. The girl was so excited she even jumped before saying.

- "We are getting married!!"

- "What?!"- Frank yelled, wide-opened eyes.

- "Oh my god!!"- Ray freaked out and jumped to the couple- "Congratulations, guys!!"

- "Thank you, dad!!"- Joey smiled and felt Frank jumping to the hug too, crawling Matthew with him.

- "Oh shit!! We are gonna party tonight!!"- Frank shouted as they all laughed. Jamia clapped and waited for the perfect moment to congratulate Joey and literally hang on Matthew's neck. Frank and Joey burst out laughing again, but no one but them actually got what was going on.

Lynz hugged and congratulated Joey, and the drummer thanked her cheerfully. She looked at Gerard next to his wife and smiled. But he didn't really look so happy.

- "What the fuck is this guy's problem?"- Joey thought, but Matthew's arms around her waist took her from any random thought she might have had, as he sweetly redirected her to Frank and Jamia, who were talking to her about the upcoming wedding.

- "You bought a house?!"- Ray yelled, and Joey laughed. Her friends were happy and excited about it. That felt warm inside, like, being loved.

- "Did you call Tucker?"

- "Not yet"- Joey confessed- "I've been trying to process it all actually."

The girl looked at Ray, and he smiled at her so nicely she felt like crying. Maybe at that point in her life, she had to face the fact it felt good having friends.

And this is why she had always run away from people: Joey had grown up alone in an orphanage until the age of eight. That was when Mercedes and Sveinbjörn had adopted her and gave her a home. She loved her foster parents very much. They were as loving as real parents would have been. They always tried to have a baby but never could. However, Mercedes wanted to have a kid so badly, she convinced her husband to adopt. They were going for a baby until they saw Joey. She was alone in a playroom, drawing, away from all the other kids. They walked to talk to her, and she smiled, melting their hearts right away.

- "Why don't you play with the other kids?"- Mercedes asked her as she started drawing with her, and Sveinjörn looked at them from a safe distance.

- "I don't like the other kids."

- "Why?"

- "'Cos they don't like me either"- Joey simply replied- "That's why I draw my own friends"

And she showed the woman what she was working on. That was when Mercedes knew she was taking that girl home and giving her all her love no matter what. And she did.

Joey had a hard time in the orphanage. The older kids hit her 'cos they said she was weird until she learned how to defend herself. By the age of six, Joey had beaten up pretty up all the older guys in the place. That meant she didn't have many friends either. Everybody was scared of her. By the age of seven, she had stopped trying to make friends. Nobody wanted to be around her anyway.

And that's how Joey grew up the rest of her life. Sure, she got a home and loving family, who gave her a new last name and all the support a kid needed. But she had already gone through enough to scar her heart.

Tabitha was her only friend growing up. The only one in mid-school and high school too. They were neighbors, and their mothers were best friends. They were "forced" to spend time together their whole lives, and Joey was eventually comfortable with her.

When she left for college, she decided it was time to start over. Nobody knew she was adopted. She didn't want to tell either. It made people look at her differently. More than usual. That was why she had fallen in love with Matthew when she first met him. He wasn't afraid to be weird. He loved and embraced his own weirdness, and he loved Joey's weirdness even more. He was the only one who knew she was adopted, the only one she had trusted enough to share it with. The other guys she had been with were always trying to be better than her; they felt intimidated by her abilities in music, by her being part of the music scene. And mostly by her independence.

She wasn't a people person, but she could work in teams and make music without being friends with her peers. Guys didn't like that. Her mom had always warned her about it. Mercedes tried to make her softer about her relationships with people, but in the end, she gave up. She was proud she had found Matthew, and by everything her daughter told her about her new job, she loved the guys in the band and how lovely they were with her. Especially Mikey and Ray.

- "With a card trick?! Can you be any more romantic?!"- Jamia's yells took Joey from her thoughts as she saw Mrs. Iero almost drooling over her fiancé- "I am so jealous!"

- "We know, honey"- Frank said and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist as Joey chuckled.

- "We are so happy for you, Bug"- Mikey kissed his friend's forehead, and she grinned.

- "Thank you..."

- "If I ever see her cry..."- Ray started, but Joey quickly moved her hand and put it on his mouth

- "We are not doing that, ok? I know how to take care of myself. You don't have to threaten Matthew. If anything bad happens, he knows who is gonna kick his ass, and that's gonna be me, I don't need..."- but Ray moved and placed his hand on her mouth, covering it and stopping her speech.

-" Frank, can you arrange her next tattoo appointment on me, and get her a nice one on her hand that says "I know how to take care of myself" 'cos at some point she has to get bored of repeating it over and over again"- Matthew burst out laughing at those words, making Joey frown. But Mikey laughed too, and Ray smiled, pleased his joke had worked.

- "Fuck you, dad"- she mouthed, and he hugged her.

- "You love me, Bug, now bear with the fact you've got a bunch of older brothers now, who will always take care of you, no matter what, ok?"- the guitarist kissed her temple and turned to Gubler- "And I mean it, I will end you."

- "Ray..."- Christa held her husband's hand and pulled him back.

- "It's ok, I completely understand it. I still want to kill my sister's husband... though my nephews are cool..."

- "So, what are we drinking?"- Joey said and looked around to change the subject as quickly as possible.

- "Shit! I'll bring you a beer"- Gerard said all of a sudden, just to find an excuse to get away from there. But...

- "I'll help you"- Matthew said and smiled.

Gerard knew he was fucked.

- "So... thank you for coming"- Gerard said and looked at Gubler as they stood in front of the fridge- "Mikey is really excited to have you here."

- "I know you have a crush on my fiancée"- Way's held his breath. He didn't see that coming so fast and so directly. But Matthew wasn't in the mood for sugarcoating anything for Gerard. In fact, he was making his best effort not to break his face right there, no questions asked.

- "I don't know what you are talking about."

- "Dude, I don't care if you deny it or not. You are fucking crystal clear. So here's the thing, stay the fuck away from her, ok?"- Gerard never thought Matthew would be that direct and even threatening.

- "You are getting the whole deal wrong. I'm just her friend."

- "I can see the way you look at her, and it's not a friendly way dude, face it."

- "You are wrong"- Gerard tried to sound cool and fresh, but he failed poorly as he noticed the look Gubler was giving him. It felt the actor was ready to kill him right there.

- "Keep telling yourself that."

- "Come on, Matt... I'm just..."

- "It's Matthew"- the actor said and looked right into the singer's eyes in silence for a few seconds- "She thinks you are all innocent and friendly, but I can see through you, so here's how things are gonna be, you are gonna stay the fuck away from her or I'll have to take her out that tour, you heard me?"

- "You are delusional!"- Gerard tried to defend himself and grabbed two beers from the fridge- "You can't fucking come and threaten me in my brother's house and pretend it's all my fault"

- "So you deny you were at her house this morning 'cos you just wanted to see her? 'Cos dude, that congratulation excuse was pretty shitty, and she swallowed it only because she can't think bad of you. She is too sweet for that shit."

- "I mean it, Matt"- Gerard used that name only to make him mad- "You have not idea what you are talking about."

- "Whatever you say, dude, just don't fuck it up, or I'll make sure you don't get to be close to her, ever again"- Matthew grabbed two beers as well and walked out of the kitchen to meet his fiancée.

Gerard was fucked. He knew it. It was going to be harder than ever, but he had to stay away from Joey. He was in love with her, for Christ Sakes. He felt like crying every time he saw her with Matthew. He wanted her to be his. And that was never going to be possible. He knew it. It made him want to break a wall. Break Matthew's face was also a pretty good idea, but he couldn't. Joey would never forgive him. And she was all he cared about at that moment.

- "No! I care about my wife. I don't wanna hurt my wife. I love her! This is a stupid crush, a stupid crush I have to get over soon!"

Gerard was fucked.

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alexiessan · 4 years ago

Text

The brother you never asked for - One Shot

AO3

@neakco asked: "I saw an ask for prompts so I would like to request a sibling Jasonette where Jason is in Paris trying to win a bet with Dick over who can find the best pastries, which is how he finds/meets Marinette. Everything else is open to the freedom of your imagination."

Here is Jasonette Siblings :)

@justafanwarrior @animegirlweeb

Why was Jason running in the streets of Paris at seven in the evening again?

Ah, right. To win a bet against Dick.

The two oldest adopted children of Bruce Wayne had agreed to accompany their father on a business trip to the French capital. Damian still had school to attend and Tim was to manage the company while the CEO was away.

He didn’t really need any of his children to accompany him, but who would say no to a trip to Paris?

Bruce had a lot of meetings planned for the two weeks trip, and it took only two days for the two men to get bored. Paris wasn’t new for them and they’ve already seen all the touristic spots.

And so, they were just watching some movie in Richard’s hotel room when he had a craving for pastries.

“Let’s go to Ladurée! They have awesome macarons!” the oldest exclaimed, his mouth already watering at the thought of chocolate macaron.

Jason frowned. “Eh, really? It’s overpriced and overrated there.”

“But they are the best I’ve ever had.”

“That’s because you didn’t try to find the very best. It’s France, there are bakeries in almost every street. There must be one that makes better pastries than Ladurée.”

La maison Ladurée was a famous bakery in Paris, known for its macarons. Every tourist always ended up going there at one point or another during their stay in Paris.

While their macarons were good, it was too much of a tourist spot for Jason’s taste. There probably was a bakery out there that sold better macarons than the famous Maison Ladurée.

Urgh. Even the name sounded made him want to cringe. Snobbish much, huh?

“Then, let’s find it,” said Dick with a serious voice.

Jason looked away from the TV to face his brother. “Huh?”

Richard rolled his eyes. “Get your ass up this couch and let’s go find the best bakery in Paris!”

The second oldest of the Wayne siblings raised an eyebrow. “Do you realize how many bakeries there are in just Paris? We can’t possibly try them all.”

“You’re right. That’s why,” Dick paused, showing Jason his smartphone, “I’ve researched the best bakeries of Paris. I found two lists with a top ten of the best bakeries of Paris, and they don’t have one in common with the other!” he grinned, “so, I suggest we each take a list and try them all, and come back with a box of macarons from the one we thought was best!”

Jason looked at the list. If he tried them all and figured that the best one was one of the first he tried, it would mean going back there to buy a full box of macarons. It would be annoying to go back there again, but doable.

“What does the winner win?” he finally asked.

“Eh… Bragging rights?” at Jason’s expression, he tried again. “We’ll figure it out later.”

“Right. Then, may the best man win.”

They shook hands and were off in a matter of seconds.

This is how Jason found himself in front of the last bakery of the list — the one ranked second in the list, but it was the one the farthest from their hotel, and thus, the last one he tried — hoping it was closed yet. He really hoped this one would be the best because he wouldn’t have the time to go back to one of the other bakeries before closing time.

When he opened the door, he was met with a lot of pink. It was a cute and cozy bakery, making you want to find a seat, drink hot chocolate, and read next to the window while it was raining outside.

At the desk was a teenage girl around Damian’s age — sixteen, seventeen-year-old top — who looked visibly upset over something on her phone. When she heard him enter, she put the phone away, blinked several times to get rid of the tears that had gathered in her eyes, and smiled at him.

“Welcome to Tom et Sabine boulangerie pâtisserie! How can I help you?” she greeted him in French.

Jason made his way to the counter, looking over the different pastries. He glanced at the girl, patiently waiting for his order. She had black hair and blue eyes, half French and half Asian he guessed. She had a smile on her face, and not just a customer one, giving that she was visibly upset when he arrived, but a genuine one.

It made him want to ask her if he had to go and threaten someone, but he didn’t know the girl, and she didn’t know him, and what right did he have to ask?

“I’ll have a chocolate macaron, please,” he answered in French but with a heavy American accent.

She noticed and switched in English, which he was grateful for. He could speak French, but since he didn’t have the opportunity to practice it often, he was a bit rusty in the language.

“Of course, a big one or a small one?”

“A small one, please.”

She put the small macaron on a towel with a clamp and put it on the counter. “It will be one euro, please!”

He thanked her while paying and wasted no time in eating the small treat. The teen girl laughed when she saw him eat it in one bite.

“You know what?” he began after swallowing, deciding that this was the best one he had in his search. “I’ll take a whole box of these. I’ll even take two big ones!”

“Alright! That will be nine euros and fifty cents, please!” she said with a smile before preparing his order.

“Thanks again!” he said while handing her the money. “If the other pastries are as good as the macarons, you’ll see me again.”

She laughed. “I’m not exactly impartial, but the pastries are really, really good! So I guess I’ll see you again.”

He barked a laugh. “You can bet on it then!”

“Have a good night, sir!”

“Thanks!”

When he got back to the hotel room, Dick was already there with his own box of macarons, and they didn’t waist one more second before tasting the other’s finding.

Jason won, of course, and demanded fifty bucks as his reward.

And wasn’t it good to win a bet against his brother.

Just like he said he would, Jason came back to the bakery, with Dick with him. They tried all sorts of pastries, and even some quiches for lunch and everything was delicious. Dick made sure to note the name of the bakery somewhere on his phone so they could come back the next time they would come to Paris.

The teenage girl was still there, managing the desk and talking with the two of them when they stayed a bit longer to enjoy their food.

They learned that her name was Marinette and that she was seventeen — making her Damian’s age, just as Jason thought — and that she was the daughter of the owner. Since it was summer vacations, she helped her parents since they had more clients than ever thanks to tourism.

They learned that she was a fashion designer and that she learned English because of it. Since she wanted to start her own business one day, someone recommended that she learn English if she wanted it to be international. Speaking only one language wouldn’t do well, she explained.

While she was still in school, she had a small customer base already and did everything that needed to be done for it to be legal, and thus, was a freelance in fashion design. She was still in high school, entering her last year in September. She even expressed her desire to go to University in America, in a double major — fashion and business.

They visited the bakery every day for a week, learning to know each other a bit, but never once did she tell them anything that was upsetting her.

And Jason couldn’t help but wonder what could bring such a cheerful and positive girl like Marinette so close to tears.

It was on their last week in Paris that Jason found out.

He was on his way to the bakery to get his daily dose of pastries when he saw Marinette sitting on a bench in the park near her family’s business and home.

And she was crying.

He didn’t think about it as he made his way to Marinette and sat next to her.

“So, tell me, whose butt do I need to kick?”

She almost jumped, not having noticed him.

“God,” she breathed, “you scared me, don’t do that again.”

“My bad,” he apologized. “But tell me, what’s wrong?”

She let out a joyless laugh. “It’s okay, I don’t want to burden you with my teenage drama.”

He playfully elbowed her. “Now, now. I’ve been a teen too, you know. And I know all about teenage drama. And I know that it’s not just nothing to you, right now. Maybe, later on, you’ll think so, but it matters to you now, so it’s important, you understand?” she nodded. “Just because you’re a teenager, it doesn’t mean your problems are meaningless, alright? I know adults tend to downplay teenager’s problem, but not me.” he ruffled her hair. “Now, tell everything to your big brother.”

She laughed and shoved him playfully. “You’re not my brother!”

“Well, now I am! I’m the brother you never asked for but got anyway. Deal with it.”

She laughed again, and he felt like he succeeded a little in cheering her up. “Alright, ‘big brother’, I’ll talk.”

She took a deep breath before facing him.

“It’s my boyfriend. He canceled on me. Again.” she laughed. “I know I shouldn’t be upset to be stood up, and I wasn’t the first time. Or the second. Or the third. But I’ve lost count of the times he ditched me for his friends, or for an event that just happened. And I tried to be understanding at first. It’s just… I’m doing everything to make our relationship work. I plan dates, even double dates because I know how much he loves his friends — our friends. But it feels like it’s one sided,” she paused, taking another deep breath. “But I haven’t properly talked to him in months because he keeps standing me up. I just… Does he want to break up with me? Is that what’s he’s trying to do, but is too much of a coward to do it properly? I… I guess I’m just realizing now that we haven’t be fine for months now.”

Jason sighed. “I can’t tell you what he’s thinking, and what is his reasoning behind his behavior because I don’t know him, but I’ll tell you this: it takes all the people involved in a relationship for it to work. If the other doesn’t put any work in it, it can’t work. It can be fixed, however, but you already tried, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then, since you already try to fix your relationship, you have to ask yourself this question: are you happy with him?”

Tears gathered again in her eyes and she shook her head. “No… No, Jason, I’m not happy anymore.”

He opened his arms, inviting her in a hug, and she immediately threw herself in her arms.

“Then, I think you know what to do.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Marinette stopped crying.

“I’m sorry, I barely know you and I just dumped all my problems on you.”

“Hey, when I said that I was now your brother, I meant it. I take my duties as a big brother very seriously.”

The fashion designer laughed. “What, you just picked people on the street and claimed they are now your sibling or something?”

“No, you’re just special.”

She laughed. “I’m nothing special, but thank you. For listening to me and offering me friendship. I really appreciate it.”

He patted her hair. “Anytime, chouquette.”

They exchanged numbers before parting ways, this time without any pastries with him.

The next morning, Jason received a text from Marinette, stating that she broke up with her boyfriend. He asked for details, and she explained that he has been oblivious to it all and didn’t understand why she was breaking up with him. She said that she gave up on explaining anything and that they were just over.

He and Dick spent the last week at the bakery, trying to cheer Marinette up, which was not as hard as he expected it to be. While Marinette was sad that her relationship was over, she was also relieved. She had been hurt too much, and it was a good thing that she wouldn’t be hurting anymore.

Their two weeks stay unfortunately came to an end, and it was time to say goodbye to Marinette.

“Say, what do you think about going to Gotham for university,” he asked her with a grin. “We could see each other much more then.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right. Going to the most dangerous city in America. No thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

He pouted. “But I would protect you.”

She laughed. “I have no doubt you would, but I think I’ll go to New York. I have an internship offer there than I can do alongside my studies,” she paused. “But hey, Gotham and New York are pretty close, no? We can still see each other.”

“One of my brothers is actually going to university in New York too next year! I’ll tell him to look after you!”

“What?! Come on Jason, I don’t need anyone looking after me!”

“Tutututu! Let your big brother handle it!”

“But you’re not my brother!”

#maribat #jasonette siblings #ooc characters i guess #ml x dc #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

for the meet uglies, 55 indruck sfw? sorry apollo

Here you go! For those wondering, Apollo originates in my Amnesty Super Hero AU

“Okay sir, I’m gonna say this as nice as I can.”

Indrid looks up from his drawing of some mushrooms. The ranger, a man about his age whose little bronze name tag reads “D. Newton”, has the look of someone choosing his words very, very carefully.

“You are this close to me writin you up. And I mean this. Close.” He puts his thumb against his finger.

“I, is this not allowed?” The log he’s sitting on is technically on the trail, just next to it.

“This ain’t the problem. It’s everythin you done since this morning that’s the problem.”

“I-”

“First there was leavin your breakfast trash on the picnic table by the visitor center so chipmunks got into it--it’s real bad for them y’know, makes ‘em too bold--then there was the selfies on off-limits spots, then you had the fu, uh, freakin nerve to be rude to Juno when she asked you to stay in safe areas, you littered left and right, then you left a beer can in the reeds by the plover nestin’ grounds. I don’t even know where to start with that one; you know we don’t allow alcohol in the park. Campgrounds sure, but we don’t want fellas like you gettin drunk and then fallin off a rock. How can you be so careless, or not give a shit for a place people put time into protectin?

The smile that’s been spreading across Indrid’s face since the word “selfie” is wide enough that the ranger spots it.

“Man, if you think this is funny, you won’t when you’re too drunk to swim or run from a bear. Then I’m gonna have to bail your ass out, which I will, and you’re gonna eat a slice of humble pie big as that overinflated ego of yours.”

Indrid snickers. The ranger glares. Slowly, Indrid pulls back the hood of his sweatshirt and retrieves his glasses from the front of his shirt (he doesn’t wear them when drawing in color due to their red lenses). The other mans expression slides off confusion and tumbles into horror.

“Aw hell, I’m sorry sir. Thought you were your, uh, well, guessin you got a twin runnin around this park.” He pulls the brim of his hat down in a charming attempt to hide his face.

“I do, and this is far from the first time I’ve been scolded in his place. Less so since I dyed my hair” he indicates the artificial silver framing his face, “I’m mostly amused by how accurately you captured his orientation towards the world. It’s also bitterly funny to discover he made someone else's day as unpleasant as he made mine.”

The ranger studies him, seems to notice the creases by his eyes and mouth, “Seem a little old to be gettin forced into family time. Not that you look old. Just, uh, I mean, you might be younger than me, hard to tell with the hair, uh, yeah.”

Indrid points in the direction of the beachside campsites, “The Cold Family Reunion can only be begged off so long.” His phone dings, the reminder that it’s his turn to help his aunt with dinner, “speaking of which, I should pack up.” He quickly gathers his supplies, sends the other man a final smile, “thank you for the laugh, Ranger Newton.”

“You’re uh, you’re welcome. And tell your twin to throw his damn trash away.” He smiles as he says this, suggesting a joke, but Indrid resolves to remind Apollo of his manners anyway.

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

The fog caresses the coastline, hiding the dawn entirely. Indrid pulls his hood up against the chill, the wooden bench and viewing deck damp from the weather. He’s not going back to camp until he’s captured the sight before him; dozens of fishing boats on the dark water, their lights beautiful and soft against the grey world.

Sandy gravel crunches to his right, and then Ranger Newton appears. He keeps glancing at Indrid as he writes something indecipherable on a clipboard.

“I’m the nice one.” Indrid says in response to the quick, searching, looks.

“Thank fuck.” He turns so they’re actually looking at each other, “guess we’re both on the early shift.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but the cold and quiet is preferable to my twin snoring. I brought my own one person tent, but then my aunt and uncle had their monthly argument and she needed a new place to sleep.”

“That was mighty kind of you.”

Indrid shrugs, “Not really. I just want to get through this reunion with as little conflict as possible.”

“How’d you end up on this thing? Said you couldn’t get out of it but-”

“I just moved to town a month ago. Turns out this is a place my parents have always wanted to visit. Not enough to see me, mind you, or refrain from criticizing my choice of towns, but enough to host the reunion here so I had no escape. And if I want to eat with the family, I have to spend the night in the camp and not at home. And since money is tight after moving, well..."

The ranger whistles, “Damn, that’s rough. But uh, since you live in town you’ll actually get to see this place in nice weather.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He shivers, “though I enjoy the cold when I can be in my nice little apartment. In a tent, not so much.”

“If you get a good sleepin bag or good company, gets a lot better.” The ranger smiles, then looks at his notes, “sorry, that ain’t appropriate talk around a visitor.”

Indrid meets his green eyes, “If you have recommendations for either, I’m all ears.”

A gust of wind carries salt spray all the way to the platform, Indrid shivering as it mists his glasses.

“Here” the ranger holds out his hnd, “I gotta go open the visitor center; nice and warm in there.”

“...Could you possibly come back in ten minutes? I’d like to finish my sketch.”

“Sure, won’t kill me to check on the tide measures while I’m out here.” He tips his hat and soon Indrid sees him winding down a path to the beach. Eleven minutes later he’s back, telling Indrid about a huge starfish he saw.

On the walk to the visitor center, he learns the “D” on his nametag is for “Duck,” that he’s a transplant from West Virginia, and that they’re actually the same age. When Indrid explains that he’s a tattoo artist who sells his drawings on the side.

“You’ll appreciate this, then” Duck bends down to roll up his pant leg. Indrid appreciates the view and the well executed geometric tree tattoo on his ankle.

“Juno and I got ‘em together. Had to go with the ankle because I already got some on my arms. Can’t show those off right now though.”

“My, my, Ranger Newton, you’ll flash a scandalous ankle at a guest but not take him to the gun show?”

Duck laughs, the sound like the mating call of a strange tropical bird; absurd and enchanting.

“Glad you’re in town to stay, Indrid. Think you’re the kind of fella I’d like to get to know.”

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

Maybe he’s being childish. It’s not wrong for Apollo to say he’s making their father proud, that he’s successful, that he’s a golden boy of his field.

It’s just obnoxious for him to do this the one time their extended family expressed Indrid’s professional accomplishments. With that smile, the one Indrid knows for a damn fact he had fixed, that tone, that, that….

That voice sounds familiar.

He reverses course, takes the path he passed by that points towards the amphitheater. What he gets is more a firepit with a small stage, but standing at the center and addressing fascinated families is Duck.

Indrid sits on the rickety bench furthest from the stage, lets Ducks explanations of night blooming plants and the creatures that pollinate them drown out the echoes of family dinner. When the program ends and the parents shepherd their children off with instructions for bedtime and brushing teeth Indrid stays, not ready to leave but not intending to attract Duck’s attention.

He gets it anyway.

“Enjoy the talk?” Duck stays two steps down from him, rests a foot up on the bench, “this one is always real popular; when it gets warm, the little animal rehab place south of town brings education animals in. Y’know, bats and owls, stuff like that.”

“I’ll have to come back to see them.” The thought of seeing bats up close excites him, but he’s too tired to sell the emotion.

Duck frowns, “You okay?”

Indrid shakes his head, tells him about the constant comments, the threat of living forever as the family disappointment, a threat he can deal with until he’s around them all. Then he’s right back to being seventeen and afraid of failing them.

“....Apollo’s always been the golden boy, ruthless and goal focused like our father. He always knows just what to say to get under my skin and dig out the scar tissue,” Indrid sighs, “All I wanted tonight was to roast marshmallows and go to bed early.”

The ranger moved from the steps to the bench beside him as he told his story. Now, Duck looks at him, smile more soothing than the thrum of the distant waves, “I got an idea. Guessin’ you don’t gotta tell your family where you’re goin, right?”

“No, most of them will assume I’m off sulking and Apollo will hope I’ve fallen off a cliff.”

“Then leave ‘em to be their shitty selves and come home with me. Uh, not, not-not like that, fuck, like what you’re thinkin, uh. Fuck. What I mean is; I got a fireplace and some marshmallows. You want in?”

Indrid watches the dying fire flicker of the curves of his face, thinks back on the last week. The ranger has been a frequent companion, brings him hot cocoa from the little cafe and tells him where he’ll be for chunks of the day in case Indrid needs a break from his family. Last night, all Indrid could think about was wanting Duck to be in the tent beside him.

“Absolutely.”

On the drive over, Indrid points out his apartment complex and Duck points out the best places to eat and the cheapest laundromats. His house is tiny, looks like it was built when the town was a logging hub and not a tourist destination.

“Make yourself at home, it’ll take me a sec to get the fire goin’--uhuh, Taco, stop tryin’ to open that cabinet.” He hoists a yowling, blonde ball of fur on the couch. The cat directs a suspicious look Indrid’s way and then settles on top of the pile of blankets.

“You a s’more man?” Duck calls from the kitchen.

“No, thank you. I prefer my sugar in a single bite.”

“You eat marshmallows in one bite? I’m always worried I’ll choke.”

“I have an accommodating mouth.” Indrid smirks when Duck audibly drops the bag. He’s not always the best with social cues, but if the way Duck kept brushing their hands together on the center armrest in his car is any indication, the ranger is trying to pick him up.

Once the fire is going Duck sits on the rug, patting the spot to his left. Indrid joins him. Caramelizing sugar and increasingly sleepy laughter soon fills the air. Neither of them keep their knees from touching, and Duck keeps dropping his head to Indrid’s shoulder when he giggles. The whole scene is so heavenly Indrid isn’t paying attention to their marshmellow consumption. He reaches into the empty bag and makes a disappointed noise.

“Damn, we really went through ‘em.” He catches Indrid’s eye with a playful grin, “you still cravin’ sugar?”

Indrid licks his lips, “Yes.”

Duck cups his cheek, guiding him into a sleepy, close-mouthed kiss, brushing their noses together when he pulls back to murmur, “That do the trick?”

“Hmmmmm?” Indrid cocks his head, “no.”

The other man guffaws as Indrid pulls him down on top of him, kissing him happily and wiggling his hips when Duck digs his fingers into his hair. His own hands migrate under Duck’s shirts, finding his body just as warm and wonderful as he hoped.

He nips Duck’s lower lip. The ranger growls and Indrid is no longer tired.

“Care to see just how accommodating my mouth can be?”

Duck rolls them twice so they’re a safe distance from the fire, “Hell yeah.”

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

Indrid saunters into camp late in the morning, some of the Colds already packing up to depart. His twin is stuck on dish duty, grins like a barracuda when he spots Indrid.

“I don’t know why you’re here. You missed breakfast, and you weren’t in camp last night, so you don’t get lunch or dinner either. May as well skulk back into the shadows.”

“Mmm, yes, I was rather undutiful.” Indrid spots a figure checking campsite permits, who stealthily blows him a kiss, “but at this moment in time, I don’t particularly care.”

#indruck #meet ugly #indrid cold/ duck newton #taz amnesty #reader request

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