#hundred of years from now someone might be reading something left behind that mentions you

[rat-hand]

Who in the future is calling your name…

[yourheart-inmyhands]

I’m here to add onto the idea/request of a previous fic with the archons with a reader who is a fallen god/archon. So instead of reader being banished or overthrown like how the archons may think.. turns out reader/old text books were keeping something from them. Reader faked their death (like another certain archon *cough* *cough* zhongli) and when pressed into why they faked their death. All that reader says is ‘I fell in love with a human centuries ago yada yada and gave up some of my powers and status’ yeah turns out they’ve been human for a couple hundred years and still held onto their god like powers and life span😭. So reader is all like ‘I can be an archon if I do desire again. BUT I grew used to living as a human and I’ve gotten used to you 🫶’ (totally not because they don’t want to resume their duties and explain to their citizens why they were “dead” for a couple centuries) 

hi i only did venti and zhongli for this because i'm trying to cut back to 2-3 characters per post so if you want to see the other two feel free to requests them! i'll be sure to attend to it quickly since i technically shorted you on this one, which i apologize for, i hope you still enjoy it :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, mentions of implied violence, mentions of nations being destroyed, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti feels jealous at first, you had loved someone else? But he quickly gets over it, focusing on the fact that you were in fact, technically an Archon. He couldn’t guess which one you were, so you’d have to tell him, but he’d be fascinated to hear about the stories of who your people used to be. It’s pretty clear that wherever you used to is no longer an existing place, the Archon war having wiped out any nation and their God that could not hold themself up against the powerful beings. Venti feels a sick satisfaction at the idea that he may have been responsible for destroying your previous region, he thinks it’s funny.

Venti listens as you tell of your previous home, your people and their land, your first love. He doesn’t care to think of who your first love was, praising the fact that they were dead right now and he was alive and here with you. He tries to remember back to the Archon War, trying to think of who had been responsible for wiping out your nation. It was a long time ago and with many smaller gods culled so that the strongest seven could remain in control. Venti hopes it was him who had the pleasure of destroying your lands, he thinks it would be a cute little coincidence that he had destroyed your people whilst you pretended to be mortal and ran around with a human man. He tells you that you don’t need to return to Archon status, that no one was waiting for you, and if you weren’t careful one of the others might step out of line and execute you. He would never let it happen, but he uses it as a scare tactic, wanting to keep you weaker and more human, below him.

Yandere!Zhongli would find it curious, his extensive memory bringing back the exact playthrough of what had happened back then. He remembers hearing of a lesser god passing, he remembers smiling, taking advantage of your ‘passing’ back then to overtake your land. He doesn’t bring it up to you, not wanting to tarnish his perfect image of himself in your mind. 

It was kind of sickening, that Zhongli could remember way back, back when he still went by Morax, back when killing off weaker gods was something more commonplace. You had passed mysteriously, leaving behind a godless nation with no one to protect it. And Morax was all for having the upper hand. He didn’t bring it up as you reminisced about your days in power, contemplating about returning. “Who left is there to return to? In this day and age you couldn’t gather a following without it being seen as a declaration of war to one of the currently throned seven, me included.” It’s a subtle way of putting it but Zhongli made it clear that it was best you continued to lay low, lest physical action need be taken, Zhongli included. The man much preferred that you say weaker and below him on the food chain, in your place, where he could easily assert his control over you.

[thecagedbard]

Oh Look, another Tav story! This is currently posted over on AO3 in its entirety but I thought I’d post it to tumblr as well. If you’d like to sneak a peak at some of the chapter names, if you don’t want to read the whole thing yet, have a listen to the title playlist: here.  There is also just the ‘Here’s what I was listening to while writing' playlist, and my Faetrala Uncaged playlist which serves as inspiration for Vesper’s siblings.  A lot of the songs tend to overlap but who knows, you might find one you enjoy. 

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Astarion/Tav (Vesper), Astarion/Halsin, Astarion/Halsin/Tav(Vesper); Mentions of Karlach/Shadowheart/Wyll; Mentions of Gale/AFAB OC

Warnings:  Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Canon Divergence, Child Death

Word count: 8,301/300,000+

Summary: Vesper needed someone to protect her from an abusive husband should he appear after she was abducted by mind flayers. Astarion needed someone to fall for him so he had protection from Cazador. He's got two hundred years of manipulation and she has the soft heart of a lamb being led to slaughter. While subconsciously healing each other they both realize they also need to heal the druid of all damned people.

Chapter Five

Thought I Could Be With You

The tieflings had left just after dawn, Zevlor rousing them all and leading them out. Perhaps it was something in their hellish ancestry that burned the hangovers from their systems. But for one elf who was still in the vampire spawn’s tent, the world had not even begun yet. Shadowheart had taken pity on Vesper in the early morning and cast a lesser restoration on her while she slept, but even the magical glow encasing her hadn’t roused the drow. Karlach had worried she’d drank herself to death or perhaps vomited in her sleep, but after Gale gave her a quick check he was able to announce that the comatose bard was just fine.

It was the tent's normal occupant who woke her, as he reached behind her head for the bag he kept all of his things in. Vesper groaned as she woke up and tried to turn from her stomach to only hit Astarion’s leg, looking up she jumped to find him leaning over her and shouted. “Relax, little bard,” said the spawn as he finally was able to get the bag from behind her. The bard had been on one of the straps, “Gale wants to try and reason with Ethel so we’re about to set out.”

Bag in his grasp he leaned back and began rummaging through its contents, finally pulling a few weapon coatings he’d been storing, “If you’re still hungover you can stay with Halsin. The big bear was worried about leaving you on your own,” he was wearing the drow’s armor again and Vesper was quickly scooting into a seated position, “I can–” Astarion held up a hand.

“There’s no guaranteed fight, if you’re still drunk or hungover you’d be more burden than help,” he placed his held-up hand on her forehead, Vesper released a sigh at the chill of his touch, “Indeed. Stay here, wash the alcohol smell off your skin…you can even read something if you like. Though not,” he reached beside her and grabbed the book he’d gotten from the cellar. The bard noted the large amethyst stone that was now in the mouth of the book, “Not this one…” Astarion said as he looked around and tucked it away behind some cushions.

“Let’s go, Fangs!” Karlach called from outside the tent and Astarion’s eyes rolled. “I’m of half a mind to tell you to actually come, but…” he sighed heavily as he turned and exited the tent without finishing the thought.

Vesper waited half a minute before getting to her knees and sticking her head out of the tent flaps. Gale was divvying out the last of the potions that they had and a twist of guilt hit the bard’s stomach. It had been a while since she’d last sat down with the alchemy set and made any health potions. “Good morning, sleepy head!” she heard Karlach sing and looked upward to the smiling tiefling, “Hope you slept alright in there.” The bard nodded and winced as a splitting pain ran through her head, “I did, thanks. Be careful out there…Ethel wants one of our eyes.” Karlach nodded her head, “That’s what Astarion told us, but Gale thinks he can convince her otherwise. Try to rest up, alright? I’ll make sure everyone gets back in one piece,” she said as Vesper fully stood. “Good,” replied the bard with a crooked grin, “I’ll be sure to have some potions and clean rags just in case.”

The tiefling laughed as she hefted her axe over her shoulder, “Right then. We ready?” The bard watched them go and couldn’t fight off the guilt from wiggling its way in. She’d barely sat down at the stone table where she made potions when a bottle was sat down in front of her. Vesper hissed a curse and flung herself from her seat turning to face a shocked Halsin, “Forgive me, I didn’t…” he cleared his throat and pointed, “While I don’t regularly imbibe, we have a few in the Grove who had a habit. This should clear your mind without having to turn to more wine.” Vesper, a hand clutched to her chest, heavily exhaled through her lips, “Thank you…Halsin,” she dropped her hand from her chest as she bent over and put her hands on her knees, “I remember now, Astarion said you’d be here. I just forgot I don’t mean to offend, I swear.”

When she looked back at Halsin, the corner of his mouth was upturned and his eyes wrinkled as he nodded, “There is no reason for you to apologize. I am the one who sneaked up on you, I wager after your recent battles it makes sense to be worried about someone sneaking into camp. All the more reason I feel you shouldn’t be left here alone.” He turned his attention to the desk and gave an approving nod, “Did you deal in potions before you were abducted?”

“No,” the bard shook her head as she straightened and returned to the table, “potion making was something I was learning years ago. One of my siblings had a working relationship with this old alchemist, she would pay us to go and get herbs for her. When I was too young to go with them, she would sometimes let me and my twin brother sit with her and would teach us recipes. Healing potions were the very first she taught us, she was one of the few adults who saw how awful our mother was.” 

A hollow laugh left her as she adjusted things on the table and stood back up. “So, to be helpful here, I’ve had to think back to those old lessons, thankfully my potions are coming out correctly,” she said with a smile as she glanced back to the druid. He looked over the setup again before turning, “I have recipes back in the grove if you would like me to get them. Other elixirs and potions that would be helpful in your journey to Moonrise.”

Shame colored Vesper’s cheeks and ears as she ducked her head, “They probably would but I’m afraid they won’t do me any good.” She turned away from the table and made her way back to Astarion’s tent where her bag had been stored. She removed the tadpoles and placed them in the corner of the rogue’s tent before grabbing her alchemy pouch and the empty bottles.

Placing everything on the table she grabbed one of the smaller pots off the stone surface and began a routine she was familiar with from years ago. Wash her utensils, boil the water, and prepare the herbs to become vitriols or poultices.

“What do you mean?” she heard Halsin ask as he grabbed for the empty bottles, the glass clinking together in her hands as he assisted, unasked.

Her ears darkened more and Vesper cleared her throat, “I won’t be able to read them.” She glanced to her side where he too was kneeling in the soft soil of the bank. His face was twisted with confusion before turning to meet her gaze, “They’re written in common…can you only read Undercommon? I’m sure with some assistance from one of your companions we can have them—”

“I can’t read,” she finally admitted and turned away from him. She waded into the water just a bit, her toes squishing in the mud as she raked her fingers around the inside of the pot. “Should have grabbed a rag,” she said to herself before turning to leave the water. Halsin was looking down now, as she exited he paused, “It’s not uncommon in some areas, my parents could barely afford food much less tutors. It’s just embarrassing to admit when I already feel like a burden on all of them.” He looked up from his kneeling position, “Your companions don’t know?” She shook her head, “And they won’t know if I can help it. So, if you could keep this between us?”

He nodded and returned to the task of washing out the empty bottles.

The task of early preparation was easier with Halsin’s help. He was well practiced in the craft and was able to guide her hands through new recipes, he again suggested gathering what he had back at the grove before he left with them and that she could learn through the practice of them with him. That she could agree to and by the time the others came back they were filling the small bottles with the red liquid that would provide a little more vitality.

She heard their voices and turned to look at the group as they reentered and unlike earlier her face drained, Karlach gave her a guilty smile and jerked her head towards Wyll before tucking her tail and walking towards her bedroll.

Astarion stood behind the monster hunter with a smile on his face, “Hello Vesper, dear, Wyll has something he’d like to say. Go on, tell her. Tell her what you did.” Vesper was quick to get up from her makeshift seat and approach the group, Shadowheart was covered in mud and blood, and Gale was…Gale had a scratch over one of his eyes.

“This doesn’t look like you changed her mind,” she said to Gale who cleared his throat, “She was convincing and nearly had me but I…well, I saw through the lines she was feeding me.” The bard turned her attention to Wyll who wasn’t sulking, rather he was glaring at Astarion with a hardened look in his eye, “I slay monsters, I will remind you, Astarion. I can hardly allow a Hag to continue harassing those that live here. What if one of the refugees had made a deal with her?”

“They did,” said Halsin, and Wyll’s attention turned to the druid. “When they first got there one of Zevlor’s people made a deal with Ethel, they were warned it wouldn’t go in their favor.” Shadowheart tilted her head as her eyes lifted above the druid, “That begs the question of why a bunch of druids allowed a Hag into their sacred area doesn’t it?”

“What happened?” the bard was waving her hands and Wyll turned to look at her then. “She had a woman there, a pregnant woman,” he explained, “while Gale was trying to have his conversation the pregnant woman was begging to not have to finish the food she was eating, and the hag snapped her fingers and sent her away. My intention was to save the woman, and we could have if someone wasn’t such a coward.”

Astarion threw his head back as he laughed, “Me? I’m letting those who make bad choices reap their consequences. Just as I didn’t encourage Gale from not getting his eye plucked out. I did remind him what he’d promised this morning but he seemed to think he knew better.” The rogue’s eyes turned to the bard whose attention was jumping around to each member of the party, “Wyll here decided to attack first. What was it a hex or something you put on her? Well from there Gale attacked her, Karlach missed with her axe because she hadn’t been expecting this to turn into a fight and Shadowheart, who still didn’t understand what was going on, missed the opportunity to protect anyone. This,” he gestured to himself, of all the mud and blood, “is from the redcaps. Because Ethel got away through a sneaky little exit but not before those damned beasts came after the smell of her blood.”

He huffed and dramatically turned, “Is that all we’re doing today or did you want to take our hungover bard to see if she’d like to make a deal?”

Vesper watched the tension come to a head before thrusting herself between Astarion and Wyll. “We saw that woman yesterday, Wyll…when we ran into Ethel the first time. I actually agreed with Astarion, it’s unfortunate but he’s right. She made a deal with a hag, knowing she’s a hag.” Wyll looked down at Vesper and she could see the hurt on his face, “So those that make poor deals should reap the consequences? Just like he said?”

Shadowheart’s hand landed on the monster hunter’s shoulder, “She doesn’t know Wyll. She wasn’t here when Mizora–”

Wyll shook his head, “No, no it’s fine. She’s right. I’ve not been totally honest as of late,” he said to Vesper before his appearance shifted and she saw the shimmer of a spell break. It was still Wyll who stood before her, but his appearance was shifted. Atop his head were two curling horns, and along his visible skin were the same markings she had seen on some of the tieflings, “I don’t understand…you’re a tiefling?” asked Vesper as she looked him over.

“No, this,” he gestured to himself and added a flourish of his hands as he directed her attention to his horns, “is the reckoning I warned you was coming. This is the consequence of not killing Karlach as my patron bade me to do. I’m a warlock, Vesper, bound to a devil named Mizora.” “Oh, shit,” she heard Astarion whisper behind her, she glanced up at him and then looked back to Wyll. “I don’t understand what the two have to do with each other,” she clutched her own hands together and Wyll tilted his head before looking down, “There isn’t much difference between myself and that woman. If I could keep her from completing her pact with the hag…if I could save her…”

Something clicked for her then and she covered her mouth. ‘Reaping the consequences,’ he thought she believed he deserved his transformation. “Wyll, I’m sorry…” he shook his head with a lifted hand to stave her apology, “I’m not. I will not apologize for trying to save people, I will not apologize for trying to keep people safe. Perhaps we are not yet strong enough to defeat Ethel, but one day we will be…I would rather do that before that woman and her child come to harm. No pact is ever without its consequences, and while that woman may ‘reap’ what consequences come…could your heart allow that child to face them as well?”

Wyll threw a look at the man that was just behind her before turning away and going to his tent, ducking inside. Shadowheart looked at her and cleared her throat, “Everyone made it back alive…all in one piece.” She stepped closer to the two elves and lowered her voice, “I did try to stop them…and it's not that I missed my opportunity to attack, it just…before I had a chance she went invisible is all.” Astarion’s hands closed around the bard’s shoulders as he leaned over her, “That’s missing your opportunity, darling.” The cleric glared at him before looking to Halsin, “You don’t have to answer my question. I might have been a little rude…” Halsin looked her over and shook his head, “No, you’re right. We were all aware of her true nature and understood to not make bargains with her, but her potions were well-made and she would sometimes provide entertainment through her stories. In hindsight, I should have sent her away when the refugees came to our gate.”

Shadowheart gave him an understanding nod before looking to Vesper, “Could I talk to you later? No wine involved but I would like to have that conversation we were supposed to have.” The bard nodded, “Of course, I’ve just got to keep an eye on the simmering pot is all.” The cleric smiled for a second before walking away. Halsin sighed heavily, “I will return in a day or two, I have to oversee Kagha’s trial. Though she had been made a novice that letter you showed had brought new information to light. I–” he stopped as he looked at Astarion and Vesper before shaking his head, “Don’t mind the ramblings of an old druid. I wish you all a good night.” He was barely out of the camp when he transformed into a bear and began running into the forest.

She felt a breath of air against her ear and turned to look at the rogue behind her, breaking the contact he had with her shoulders, “Are you alright?” she asked with a raised brow. He nodded, “Perfectly fine, all of this is redcap. Perhaps a touch of Gale, I was right next to him when she attempted to pluck it out…ghastly really. Wyll’s going to want to go back for that hag you know.”

Vesper tilted her head and hummed, “I don’t think I can blame him. He has a point…that child.” She stopped when Astarion groaned and dropped his head back, he lifted it to look at her again, “I’m not going to stop you from being a hero, Vesper, but you must really stop thinking of others sometimes. Consider your own safety, darling. If you’ll excuse me, I smell worse than the bear that just ran out of here.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

After dinner Vesper returned to her potions, now ladling them through a funnel into the cleaned bottles that Halsin had so nicely set up. After today's narrow victory, the others had taken their food back to their tents and were for the most part remaining apart. Vesper had delivered a couple of freshly bottled potions to Gale who was checking a duplicate’s scratched eye, he thanked her but didn’t say much more to lead to conversation.

Wyll had waved off any of her attempts to talk and Astarion had disappeared shortly after the confrontation. She didn’t have the chance to ask him if they’d run into that monster hunter again.

Karlach and Shadowheart had helped her clean more bottles and now they were all cooling after being filled. Shadowheart found the bard by the riverbank washing out the pot she had used, “Is now a good time to talk?”

Vesper looked up, her braid falling over one shoulder, “Of course! I’m just busying myself…thought I might wash the rags and hang them up next.” The grin on Shadowheart’s face expanded, “I hadn’t expected to meet someone so…domestic when I was given my mission. Not that it's a bad thing,” she amended quickly and stepped into the water to help Vesper get back to shore. “Some things came up while you and Astarion were gone…and I didn’t want you to think that anything was being hidden from you, you were kind enough to save me from the nautiloid and you hadn’t pressed me when I wasn’t ready to talk about things.” Subconsciously the cleric rubbed at the hand with her mysterious wound on it.

“Are you religious?” Shadowheart sat down on a rock on the shore. Vesper took a seat next to her and cocked her head to the side, “I suppose, just a bit. Why?” The cleric licked her lips and looked at the drow next to her, “I worship the Lady of Darkness, Shar…have you heard of her?” The bard shook her head after a moment, “I can’t say I have. But whoever you worship is up to you, Shadowheart, it doesn’t affect any of us. Well…I suppose if she stops you from saving us it might, huh?” she laughed to herself and turned to look at Shadowheart her smile falling. This wasn’t a time to joke, Shadowheart’s face was the very definition of serious.

The cleric began to tell a little bit about herself and Vesper was loath to interrupt the normally secretive half-elf. When she explained about her wound and her memories the bard adjusted how she was sitting until she was facing her, “And it’s just that I had told Karlach and the boys while you were gone. They wanted to know how I got the artifact I carry…the one you asked about after we first met. I trust you, Vesper, I just didn’t want you to think I didn’t and that I was hiding things from you.”

The bard nodded and put a hand on Shadowheart’s shoulder, “Good. I trust you too, so maybe we don’t hide things from each other in the future?” The cleric grimaced, “There are some things I cannot say. I have to protect some of Shar’s teachings.” Vesper chuckled, “Okay, fine. We’re still allowed our secrets, but maybe if it will affect one of us…maybe then we share?” The cleric nodded and sighed in relief, “I think that is quite doable.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they sat next to the river. The fire’s light didn’t reach this far but they could see Karlach’s shadow just at the boundary of shadow and light. It was Shadowheart who broke the silence as she turned to Vesper, “You should be careful when it comes to Astarion. I know you trust him, but vampires are known for their hunger and their lack of soul.” Vesper looked up and turned to Shadowheart again, “Astarion’s a spawn…” She didn’t know if that made a difference, but from the way that monster hunter the day before had talked, she thought it might. Shadowheart didn’t object or correct her but tilted her head all the same as she continued her warning, “Still. He’s just as dangerous. If his master can control him from this–” Vesper cleared her throat, “He can’t. Astarion is trying to get away from his master. I–I trust him, Shadowheart. Besides the vampire thing I haven’t sensed a lie come from him, I’ve gotten pretty good at determining those that want to do harm to me over the past ten years. Reading people, I mean. I don’t think Astarion would.”

The Sharran’s eyes narrowed for a moment and she scooted closer, “Ten years? No one ever stepped in?” Vesper shook her head, “No. My husband was fairly liked where we lived, grew up in the area, and knew most of them for years. I was an outsider that he brought in and, well, when he told them that my black eye or broken fingers were from being caught as a thief they all believed him. He was embarrassed when people thought him cruel over the broken collarbone and told people that this,” she thumped the leather collar with her fingers, “was to hide it so he didn’t see the shame of my infidelity.” 

Shadowheart grunted and shook her head, “I’m sorry you went through that. When we were out today we were trying to get to know each other and Karlach realized how little we knew about you…Astarion had to be the one to tell us about your siblings. Fifteen,” she let out a low whistle, “and none of them came to rescue you?” 

A sad smile crossed the bard’s face as she shook her head, “No. We, uhm, we didn’t grow up near Baldur’s Gate. The Moonshae Isles is a bit far to make a trip like that on a whim…dangerous in the small boat we traveled in the first time and expensive.” Her smile faltered for a moment, remembering Valere’s promise to come back for her, but she blinked away the tears before they could fall, “I kind of gave up hope after I had my children. Issac would have made me leave them behind,” she cleared her throat and looked towards the cleric beside her, “I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

The piteous look that Shadowheart was giving her made Vesper turn away again. She didn’t mind sympathy, but something about pity always irked her. “I have to go back to Baldur’s Gate, you know,” the cleric said softly, “I don’t think you’d enjoy being a part of my cloister, but I’m willing to help save your kids if that’s what you–Ah! Damned thing,” she hissed as she covered her hand. Vesper looked back and shook her head, “My son is the only one living and he hates me for…everything. My Carwyn is the boy who pushed me off the cliff.” Shadowheart went from grimacing at her would to staring at the bard with her mouth hanging open, “Your son tried to…” Vesper nodded and sighed heavily, “There won’t be anyone to save. I’m sure that one of Issac’s brothers came for him after he left. The family hated me because I was a drow, or rather just an elf in general, but they liked Carwyn. Doted on him regularly. I don’t see a reason they would just let Issac abandon him like that.”

Shadowheart scooted closer to the bard and hesitated before putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a half hug. Vesper laughed softly and bit down on the inside of her cheek, “Then can I offer to put a curse on this Issac if we run into him? I don’t have the ability now but many of those in Shar’s ranks can do it, I’m sure I’ll have the ability by the time we reach the gates.” Vesper nodded, “That’s fine. You can curse him, maybe I can convince Karlach to beat him up.” Shadowheart nodded, “Yeah, and to make things worse we’ll make Astarion bite him.” The bard laughed again, “No, he’s so mean I’m sure his blood is sour. I wouldn’t want to force that terrible taste on a friend.” She let her head fall onto Shadowheart’s shoulder and the cleric sighed, “I know you’ll have to live with the memories of what he’s done forever…but,” Shadowheart placed her head atop the bard’s, “could we take this collar off? You shouldn’t have to wear his shame for all to see.”

Vesper sat up slowly and shook her head, “It’s not just as easy as taking it off.” Her secret had been safe with Astarion it seemed, if he didn’t tell them it was sewn to her skin. Perhaps it was better to be fully open and honest with the people she traveled with now, “Issac had his mother sew this into place. Like I said before, she hated me for simply existing and she always believed Issac’s lies. So when she sewed the closures she…” Vesper took a deep breath, “she pushed the needle deep and didn’t care when it went through the skin of my shoulders. Some of the stitches broke but many were deep in the muscle.” Shadowheart didn’t gasp but she did jerk back as she looked at the collar again, “All because you were an elf? And they live in Baldur’s Gate?” Vesper nodded, “Yep. So the removal of would probably be just as painful as when it got put on me. She jerked it around a couple of times because she didn’t put it on straight the first time.” 

The cleric’s eyes narrowed, “How long have you had this damned thing?” Vesper lifted her eyes to the sky, “Five years?” Shadowheart grumbled something that the bard didn’t catch, “We’ll figure something out. Knowing the truth of it now just…” she trailed off and shook her head, “One day, Vesper, one day it’ll be gone. And so will he, you’re an elf and you’re going to outlive him and all of his cruelty.” The bard smiled and looked at the woman beside her, “Then I guess we’d better finish our search on the surface to get to the Underdark, huh? Or I’ll be a mindflayer before Issac’s dead.” 

The bard stretched her legs and leaned from side to side before standing. “Come on, it’s starting to get late I think. I’m not staying behind tomorrow so we should get some rest.”

The two dusted themselves off and Vesper set to clean up the camp. As she was placing wood on the fire Karlach kneeled beside her with a mischievous grin, “What?” Vesper reached up and touched her face, “Why are you looking at me like that?” The tiefling’s eyebrows went up, “Well, Astarion asked me to tell you he was going for a walk. But it’s strange how last night he came back with a bottle of wine and a blanket…and then left with them tonight.” The larger woman was leaning forward while her grin got wider, Vesper’s face flushed, “What are you trying to say, Karlach? That Astarion went off to stargaze with wine?”

The tiefling groaned and threw her head back before fully sitting down, “He’s waiting for you! I didn’t know you two had gotten that close. And you know, don’t get me wrong I’d ride him to the feywild and back if I could but… be careful with him. He did the right thing last night but I don’t want to wake up and find you all dried up with no blood.” Vesper rubbed at the corner of her eyes, “You and Shadowheart must be spending a lot of time together. She just warned me about the same thing.” There was a pit in her stomach, he had just propositioned her the night before and was now somewhere in the woods waiting.

“Well, are you going to go?” asked Karlach with one brow raised. “Don’t hold what Wyll called him against the man, I don’t think Astarion’s a coward. I think he’s just really in survival mode. I saw that a lot when people would suddenly appear in the hells. Do what they had to, to keep living but not much else. You might be his first real connection outside of survival you know.” Vesper tilted her head and studied Karlach for a second. When the tiefling put it like that Vesper felt bad. If that was true then she was being an absolutely awful person by using him like this. 

She could put an end to it. She could go out into the woods, find Astarion, and confess the whole thing. Shadowheart already seemed more than willing to protect her if she pointed out Issac or if he suddenly appeared. And the cleric seemed sure that Karlach would do the same. Vesper knew she didn’t have to use Astarion, but she’d never known Issac to be afraid of women.

** TW: Dubious Consent and Memories of Previous Noncon **

What if he found Shadowheart and Karlach before she saw him to identify him? He could worm his way into their heads and convince them that they were better off without her. 

She needed someone to need her, she needed someone to want her.

Vesper stood after throwing the last log onto the fire and Karlach’s face lit up. “Ooh, go have fun! Make sure you watch out for any animals out there!” Karlach’s voice carried over the camp as she was walking out and Wyll looked out of his tent as Vesper passed. Her face was inflamed as she left the camp behind.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

The ground was still wet from the conjured storms the day before causing Vesper’s steps to be muffled as she walked through the forest. She didn’t call out as she walked, afraid that someone else would come running if they thought she was in trouble. The problem though, was she didn’t know where Astarion had run off to. 

She rounded a tree into a clearing and finally found him, he was lounging on the blanket with his hands behind his head as he stared up at the sky. He’d laid like this once before when they had first learned that Halsin could possibly help heal them of their tadpoles and were tasked with retrieving him from the goblins.

Walking through the clearing she must have made enough noise, since Astarion sat up and smirked in her direction, “There you are. I was beginning to wonder if I’d be out here all alone.” Resting on his elbows he cocked his head to the side and Vesper could practically feel his eyes as they raked over her before he balanced on one elbow and patted the empty space beside him, “Join me?”

This was it, Vesper thought, if she laid down next to him, she was committing to this happening. As she paused at the edge of the blanket she felt the guilt knot in her belly and watched as he fully sat up, his head tilted upward as he watched her.

“I won’t bite…unless you’d like me to?” his toothy smile pulled a laugh from her and Vesper sighed. This was going to be her first time actually choosing to give her body to someone. There was no one making her do this, no looming threat of harm, no threat to her son. It was all on her. This was her choice, she kept reminding herself as she kicked off her shoes and kneeled down to take a seat next to him.

“Was that a yes or a no to a little nibble?” he teased as he leaned toward her and Vesper’s face flushed again. Where was her voice? Why was she clamming up again?

He didn’t come any closer when she didn’t answer though, he didn’t make a single move except to lie back down. “How much of the party do you remember?” he asked, looking at her for just a moment before returning his attention to the stars. Vesper laid down next to him and tried to think back, “How poorly will you think of me if I say not much?” He chuckled and put his hands back behind his head, “So you don’t recall coming to my tent? Telling me how much you wanted me to like you?” Vesper jumped up, the motion putting a strain on her shoulder, “I did what?!”

Astarion let out a high-pitched laugh when he looked at her face and nodded, “Oh yes. Last night our positions,” he motioned to them both, “were switched and you complained that you wanted me to like you. You told me I was pretty.” Vesper laid back down and sighed heavily, “Well, at least I didn’t lie.” She was quiet for a moment before she turned her head to look at the vampire, “Karlach said you brought wine and a blanket…the same one you carried back last night?” Astarion lifted a brow as he turned his attention, “I had thought our fiendish friend was asleep when I came back to camp. Yes, I had hoped you would abandon your plans with Shadowheart, and when she canceled them…I thought luck was on my side. Unfortunately for me, you were far too drunk to come out here.” 

Vesper’s brow creased as she studied his face, “You didn’t want to sleep with me while I was drunk?” Astarion hummed noncommittally before turning onto his side, “I have taken many of Cazador’s victims into my bed when they were drunk. I wanted you to be…different.” He leaned close and one of his fingers traced the outline of her face, “I wanted you to want to be here…I want,” his voice lowered, and his eyes fell to her lips, lingering before they jumped to meet her eyes, “you to want me.” 

He leaned closer, just barely hovering over her as if waiting for her to say no. It seemed as though he was giving her a way out, a chance to push him away. Even as the thoughts filtered through her mind her body was being pushed by her arm up until there was barely any space between them, she lowered her eyes hoping they wouldn’t betray her guilt and shame as she whispered, “I do want you.”

The singular finger that rested under her chin, Astarion barely applying any pressure to lift it, was joined by the other four as he slipped it behind her head, his fingers carding through her hair as he pressed a kiss to her lips. On instinct, the bard stiffened. Her hesitation caused Astarion to chuckle before he tried again and this time she returned the kiss that she would later call sweet. Just a press lips against her own. When he pulled away his smirk was almost a smile, “I’ve been waiting to do that, since the moment I saw you on that beach.”

Vesper was pulled from her thoughts and blinked several times before she tilted her head at him, one brow raised, “Really?” He nodded, “How could I not? I know that our initial meeting was, rough but,” he smiled again, “it was after I learned the truth, that we were the same, I realized you were the first person to ever try and save me. A beautiful little elf with the softest lips I have ever tasted.” The bard’s cheeks heated and she tried to turn away, but his hand in her hair kept her from running from him, “You didn’t know?” he asked and she shook her head. 

His words were sweet, she thought, but almost too sweet. It felt as though he was trying to convince her this was what she wanted. Usually, she didn’t have to touch the men that she was made to sleep with, it was discouraged to even try most of the time, but Vesper began to think she was going to have to encourage him. Swallowing her nerves Vesper lifted her eyes to meet his, “Then show me…” She lifted the corner of her lips on one side and the brow on the same side, “Show me what you’ve wanted to do, Astarion.”

Vesper had no knowledge of how to lead something like this. As he bent back over her and she allowed herself to be laid back down her mind drifted. His other hand was exploring her torso so gently but she wasn’t there. No, at this moment, she was drifting back and could feel other hands. She closed her eyes tightly as his head descended to between her breast and though he didn’t bite her she could feel teeth against the swell of the breast and took a shuddering breath in, “Vesper?” Her eyes opened and she looked up, Astarion was over her and she looked down to see him holding the clasp of her shirt, she nodded to him and reached between them to pull his cotton shirt from where it was tucked in his trousers.

She needed to stay in the moment, to pay attention to the elf she was with. He bent down and kissed the skin above her collar, her breath caught and she heard a chuckle against her skin before his blunt teeth found her ear lobe.

Don’t go back there. You’re not there anymore. It’s Astarion it isn’t Evard. Don’t think of–

It didn’t matter once she felt his fingers on the lacing of her trousers. Her mind was drifting again and it was no longer a tall lean elf over her. The shape before her transformed into that of a human male, lean but shorter than Astarion. His short wavy hair was illuminated by the moonlight and just like that Vesper knew the role she had to play to survive this. Evard had wanted it to be a torrid affair and for her to pretend she wanted it. 

It made the human feel better that way.

Evard liked loud, wanted her to moan, to scream, to sound like he was the best she had ever had. And as everything shifted in her head so did Vesper physically, from timid to more adventurous. Clothing gone she saw the male lean back and look over her, she lifted her arms just above her head, as far as they could go, and saw the ghost of the smile painted over his mouth.

She could do this. She would survive the night.

The only thing that kept breaking her out of her illusion was the attention that Astarion gave her. It kept breaking the vision of Evard when he would capture her lips with his and she felt his fangs against her tongue, how he groaned when she scratched herself, and just the taste of her blood on her tongue made him surge forward. 

When he thrust into her, he felt different as well, he’d taken time to be certain she was prepared. The feel of fingers inside her had caught her off guard but she moaned breathlessly all the same, hearing his laugh as her body tightened from the intrusion. But as he began to thrust his length in her, she drifted again, being sure to moan and the appropriate times and whispering little pleas for him at others she let herself drift away to where she used to imagine herself during these times.

The waters were rough in the boat but she was safe inside of it. The waves never reached inside, they wouldn’t wash her away while she lay against the bottom. Each thrust inside her body was the rough wave crashing against the boat’s side and she weathered the rough waters as best she could.

When Astarion’s mouth pressed against hers again she was pulled from her dream of the boat in the rough waters and back into the present. It was the feel of his fang nipping her lip that made her realize what would put her out fully, the blood rushing through her, he’d enjoy that, wouldn’t he? “Astarion,” she whispered and he lifted his head and she stiffened in his grasp as she recognized the distant look in his eyes. She lifted a hand to his face and called to him again, no more false moans, he leaned into her touch and met her eyes the pupils shrinking until she felt he was with her again, “Bite me? Feed from me…”

Confusion was written on his face as he looked from her face to her neck and then down. She tried not to shudder as he pulled out of her and began to trail down her body, he placed small, closed mouth kisses down her body before he reached her thighs and bent one of her knees pushing it up until she was fully exposed to him. She tried not to think of it and looked down at him, reaching down she caressed his cheek and forced a smile to her face, “Do it.”

His hand came up to grasp the one on his cheek, he threaded his fingers with hers before biting down into her leg and she let herself fall back a groan forced from her throat. 

The pain from his bite rocked through her and kept her in the present. One of his arms was wrapped around her thigh, holding it in place, as he drank from her. She could feel his tongue press against her skin and shuddered at the feel of his mouth sucking, drinking her blood. But his other hand held hers and she could feel the caress of his thumb against her skin, silently thanking her for allowing it. 

Before long the exhaustion from this stressful event combined with her blood loss and as she stared up at the sky she felt herself drifting to sleep. She squeezed his hand and her other hand drifted down until she felt his hair before the darkness swallowed her.

As it was during nights she had to give this sort of performance she dreamed of the others. Their combined efforts to reach their own pleasurable release at the cost of her body. She dreamed of ten years of abuse of punishments for not giving the men what it was they wanted, for not being the perfect lover they had been promised. She’d make a mental note later that though she always added the new men who hurt her to her dreams, there was a lack of white haired elves with red eyes. But that was for future Vesper to think on.

** End of TW **

She woke when the sun crested over the trees casting their quiet little clearing in bright golden rays. Vesper had expected to be cold and alone, but as her eyes opened she felt the fabric of the blanket she was laying on and how it had been wrapped in half to lay over her. Clutching the fabric to her chest she sat up and looked around, barely in her line of sight she saw Astarion standing in the brightest spot of the clearing his arms held out as he soaked in the sun. She stood and fully wrapped the blanket around her, ignoring the feel of fluids as they fell down her thigh, ignoring how sick the feeling made her. 

“Were you not planning to stay for a cuddle?’’ she asked as she walked up behind the vampire. His arms lowered and he turned his head until he could see her, his smirk back on his face, “You sleep light…I would have thought you’d be exhausted after last night.” She had no idea how long they’d been out here, how long the act had lasted. But she remembered the distance in his eyes when he was in her, a distance she had once seen when one of her forced partners had put a mirror in her face.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked hesitantly, Vesper was worried that the wrong question would upset him though she knew she was relatively safe. Karlach knew she was out here with him at least, “It felt like you weren’t fully there,” it was better than telling him that she recognized the distance in his eyes, she felt. He half turned to look at her and his tone sounded a little guilty, “I was holding back, I’ll admit. Worried that I might…lose control. Delicious as you are, I didn’t want to go…too far.” He turned away again and tilted his head up back toward the sun. 

Vesper stepped closer, the leaves now crunching under her bare foot. She looked him over, and her eyes paused on the scars that covered the majority of his back. “Can I ask about your scars? Where did you get them?” she was standing just behind them now and fought at the urge to trace one of them, someone had once done that to the one over her right breast and she’d wanted to run rather than explain how she got it. Looking down she tugged the blanket up under her chin to hide the offending mark on her body.

This time he turned and looked at her, his eyes narrowed before they softened, “It’s a poem. A gift from Cazador,” he glowered as he said the words before sighing, “he considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. He composed and carved this one over the course of a night. He made a lot of revisions as he went…” his voice was falling and she recognized the look on his face as the ghost of the memory flashed over him.

“That’s awful…” she said as she stepped closer, Astarion lifted his head and gave a humorless chuckle. “Just one of the many nights over two hundred years of my torture…he always said my screams were the prettiest.” His eyes drifted again and Vesper ducked her head, a ghost of her own slipping into memory as she heard a voice in her mind, “She sure does scream pretty doesn’t she?”

“Now can we go or do you have any other bad memories you’d rather drag up?” Astarion cut through her memory and she jerked her head up before nodding, “And don’t tell the others of our little night together. With the noises you were making it’s likely they already know.”

Color filled her cheeks as she turned away and took a couple of steps away before he caught her and pulled her against him, “I didn’t mind them,” he whispered against her ear and she felt his chuckle through the blanket as she shivered from the contact. “Do you need help getting dressed? I recall you having issues yesterday,” he gave a painless tug to her disheveled braid and she turned to look up at him, his face merely an inch from her, “I don’t think so. I’ll be along shortly if you want to go back to camp.” 

He held onto her a little longer, his hands resting on her hips before he bowed his head, “Forgive me, along with being the first thinking creature I’ve fed on…” he paused for a second, “you are the first I’ve had a morning after with. I’m not certain how this is supposed to end.” Vesper turned and looked up at him, “Well…I think we just go about our day. We get dressed and go back to camp. After that I…” she grinned, “I don’t know either.” 

“Alright then…let’s go before the others come searching for us,” he squeezed one of her hips before stepping away from her to gather the still full wine bottle and pulling his shirt over his head. Vesper sent him ahead so she could wash herself in the river, once she was sure he was far enough she could stop the sob that racked her body.

She realized during the act itself, that she couldn’t do this. The bard didn’t have it in her to manipulate him. In the water of a stream, she found she cried until she was sick and then cried more. She couldn’t wash the filth off of her skin because, besides his spend and her own slickness, there was no filth to clean. But she just felt dirty. From the sex. From using Astarion as she had. 

This was not something she could continue. As she pulled her clothes on and half braided her hair again she looked around and nodded to herself. She needed to tell him the truth, to confess what she had been planning and let it go from there. If he decided to scorn her, fine, she’d figure out how to handle an Issac situation if it rose up but she couldn’t manipulate someone who had been through two hundred years of a similar hell she had been in.

Just thinking of it again caused the bard to be sick once more before she made it back to camp.

[the-last-rat-standing]

I wasn't going to reply to this (not a slight on your great post!), because I feel now it's just rehashing the same points over and over, but let me say this and be done:

The fact that maybe we should just be happy we got something says a lot about our expectations of this show over the years. And this touches upon what might be the root of my discontent with how they handled things. They've never, ever been good with using the canon and the characters unless they needed it/them for the episode. Think of all the characters we've 'met' over the years that had an important part to play in an episode or small arc, never to be seen or heard from again. There is a rich catalogue of characters who have weaved in and out of the last 2 decades, and hey! There are some they didn't kill off!

Some examples: What's Rachel Cranston up to these days? Vance's kids? Torres' dad? Palmer's daughter? DiNozzo Sr? Hollis Mann? Abigail Borin? Tobias Fornell? Abby Sciuto? Jack Sloane? Bishop went off to do Special Secret Agent work without once mentioning leaving her mom and 3 brothers behind. Gibbs fucks off to Alaska with no mention of telling Phineas. Those are just the ones off the top of my head.

I'm not saying we need to hear about these characters all the time in a way that wouldn't feel natural to the episode, but if Kasie still has Sloane's elephant painting (and she does), she can't drop a casual comment about her when someone comes down to the lab? Torres can't get a letter from his dad? Abby couldn't call McGee? None of these things requires the actual actor to be there, but it weaves a thread that connects the past with the present. Brian Dietzen said he watched hundreds of episodes to get some background detail for the episode and I'm like, "Why?" This show doesn't do background details and it was never more obvious than this episode. Again, let's look at characters (still alive!) who would've crossed Ducky's path in a meaningful way over the last 2 decades (I've already mentioned a ton):

Maggie Clarke Jordan Hampton 'The Sherlocks' Hollis Mann Abigail Borin Anthony DiNozzo Sr. Anthony DiNozzo Jr. Ziva David Grace Confalone Gerald Jackson Cyril Taft Tobias Fornell Victoria Palmer Abby Sciuto Jack Sloane

What happened to the unnamed nephew? What happened to Nicholas Mallard?

Even setting aside the 'they couldn't get everyone' line of reasoning, beyond Abby sending flowers, there was no reference to any of these characters except Tony. (And the Tony appearance did the exact same thing a Tony/Ziva appearance would've done- even in its limited moment, it became the talking point of the episode.) It's like history for NCIS only exists when they need it for an episode, except this time, they really did need it, and they didn't use it.

This doesn't even begin to touch on Mark Harmon's absence. I'm willing to shrug off any excuse someone wants to make about every other character/actor. Money, time, lack of communication, disinterest, lost phone number, missing person, abducted by aliens, forgot they existed, whatever. But we are talking about the oldest, deepest relationship on a 20 year old show. It's so meaningful that they actually based their 400th episode around that friendship. We're also talking about a real death of a beloved and respected actor here, not just a fictional character. And to diminish that to a Polaroid and a flashback that had no emotional connection to the people prompting it (Knight reading from a journal) was, at best, a massive error and at worst, dismissive and disrespectful. Both the show and the actor should've moved heaven and earth to make it happen, but neither did. There's been a weird vibe since Mark left, like the show was more than a little relieved to move on without him. And that's fine; everything needs to grow and move forward. Hell, I've moved on from the show, too. But this -for me- is baffling and unforgiveable, really.

I had a little chuckle when you said, "I guess I understand the logic," because honestly, you give them much more credit than I ever could. For me, there is no logic here beyond the show acting like they're making do with what they have, when they have so much more. They've never been able to create the quality to match the potential, and this episode is a testament to that failure.

Both @justagibbsgirl and @i-run-with-scissors39 made a really good point about the Gibbs absence in the Ducky tribute episode- if we'd had a funeral scene, we would've gotten a much deeper emotional impact from a eulogy, the camera could've panned the gathered guests to show a myriad of former characters we've missed over the years, AND, they could've shown Gibbs in the back, unseen by the guests, paying silent tribute to Ducky. Brian Dietzen said Mark Harmon didn't come back because of 'scheduling conflicts', but as @i-run-with-scissors39 said, they could've filmed it separately at any time, because it would've just been him.

But none of this happened. In fact, what really happened in that episode that was memorable? Besides Tony showing up. (I'll get back to that in a minute.) McGee had 1 flashback, Vance had 1 flashback and Jimmy had 4. Jimmy also had the most screen time and was given the most emotional scenes. A lot of that is understandable- he was the only one left with the strongest connection to Ducky. But there were other people with connections to him, too. And we didn't get to see that. The only person outside of the regular cast of season 21 to show up was Tony. I mean, think about that, just for a second. No character outside of the current squad showed up. Not even Tobias! Instead, they handwaved the work/money (?) involved to make something more meaningful happen by showing flowers and Polaroids.

Even the Crime of the Day fell flat. So some girl we've never met is getting hassled by her college because her dead dad's getting slandered in the press by a senator. A senator who, I guess didn't get arrested at the end? Just stepped down from his position? Why did the senator pick that Marine anyway? (I know he served with him, but what was the point in naming that particular Marine?) And if I see one more reference to someone gifting someone a scholarship fund, I don't know if I'll be able to unroll my eyes. And yes, I know the MCSF was a big thing for David McCallum, so it made sense in this context, but the fact there's a Leroy Jethro Gibbs Scholarship Fund joke almost undermined the whole thing. (Would've been nice if they'd had a link at the end of the episode to the MCSF.)

Instead of this random girl and her dead dad, how about a cold case Ducky was working on? Maybe Jimmy sees it on Ducky's desk (or finds it in the secret spot behind a picture /eyeroll) and decides he's going to solve it. The team wants to help but are sceptical it can be done, but Jimmy's absolutely determined to do it, to the point of almost obsession. It would be his way of putting off dealing with Ducky's death while also making one last connection with him. They end up solving it because one of the flashbacks gives an indirect clue. You know, like Ducky's cryptic message to the team about where to find the nothing file behind the photo in his office. /eyeroll again

I loved the fact that Jimmy never took off his lab coat, even though he didn't do any lab work the entire episode. Him walking around the bullpen in his lab coat solving a case was just... well, I guess that's where the show is now, yeah? Sean Murray didn't want to step forward as the face of the show, so Brian Dietzen did. And you know what? Good for him. It's a hell of an arc over 20 years for him. But whether he meant to or not, he ended up making this episode about him. Every emotional thread went through Jimmy; every emotional moment was Jimmy's. When Diona Reasonover's voice cracked in the bullpen ("Any suggestions as to how to do that?"), it felt like the only real moment given to anyone other than Jimmy. Probably because 3 of the team didn't really know Ducky, so they could only experience the loss through other characters. It's why we got Knight reading Ducky's journal to bring up a Gibbs flashback, and it's why Torres did the same with McGee. It's why Parker was in charge of the flowers or something. And I try to remember they're new when I hear Knight say, "Dying quietly in your sleep isn't the worst way to go." JFC, lady.

I dunno. Kate was on for 2 years and I felt the show handled her death with so much more emotion. Her loss rippled through the team and we felt it because we saw the characters feel it. The Ducky episode was a lot of telling rather than showing, and what showing they did was through Jimmy instead of a handful of the hundreds of people whose lives Ducky touched in 20 years.

Oh, and Tony. Great to see one of the Originals, and Tony, in small doses, can bring the depth the scene needs. But being tacked onto the end of the episode made it fell exactly what it was- a surprise cameo to wow the fans rather than a true nod of respect to Ducky/David.

It should've been more. It could've been more.

[pffbts]

↬genre: romance; angst; slice of life; minimal smut.

↬characters: jeon wonwoo x reader | mentions: mingyu, joshua & jeonghan.

↬w.c: 9.8K (pls throw me off a cliff)

↬author`s note: i know i still have some of the boys left but hands down this is literally my favourite one from the series. it`s also the longest one out of the series because i almost fell in love with wonwoo while writing this (not me lying by saying almost). he`s not my bias but i like him a lot personality-wise. we also have a lot of similar traits so that might be it. okay okay time to stop rambling & now wish you a very happy reading!

↬synopsis: there are 13 boys who lives in your town where each of them have each of their own colours. some you know in person & some from afar so one day you sat down deciding to describe each of their colours absorbing all of their goodness and all of their flaws. you wondered what if someone in some other town ever thought of questioning when they looked at these boys, that―what if we lived in the same town?

☍ seungcheol | jeonghan | joshua | junhui | soonyoung | wonwoo | jihoon | seokmin | mingyu | minghao | seungkwan | vernon | chan

[05:04 PM] [she told him, the sun has kissed you enough, now it`s my turn]

―that day as you waited for wonwoo`s arrival, your eyes lingered longer than you expected at the parallelogram-shaped sunlight that had passed through the window and had fallen upon the mahogany floorboard.

inside the library, in that place that you were yet not so familiar with although left you a bit restless from inside, the lack of blinking pricked your eyes. somehow the fallen sunrays had a hypnotizing effect on you just like a person you know. might be just a mystery of its own, you assumed.

“_______?” out of nowhere, you heard a small deep voice utter your name that simultaneously snapped you out of your daze.

lifting your head up at the familiar sound, you found wonwoo peeking, those feline-like eyes softly set on you, from the huge shelf stacked with books published and breathing longer than both of yours existence.

but before your eyes could adjust their focus on the elephant in the room, your mood instantly shifted to a different spectrum as you found yourself in your expected person`s presence. it was as if with his arrival wonwoo brought in with himself a glass of some magical potion whose key ingredients were happiness, comfort and a sense of protection for you to drink and relief yourself from your internal restlessness.

“oh?” your own voice came out in a much higher octave than you yourself expected as you raised your brows on reflex when you finally discovered what you were supposed to discover much before than this, “you really did it!?”

wonwoo, whose tall figure was previously almost hidden behind the much taller shelf came out with a coy smile hanging from the corner of his lips and without meeting your eyes, at your surprised question, he ducked his head down to scratch the behind of his head and then drown in a river of shyness.

“i don`t know what came upon me last night…” you heard him trailing off, “bought the dye from the store while coming back from your place….and just got done with the business by the time it was two in the morning,”

“so you did it on a whim? just because i suggested it?” even if someone was not looking at you, they could still be a hundred percent sure that you were beaming from cheek to cheek. it was visibly evident in your voice.

“i guess that`s one way to put it. you handed the suggestion and i took it.” your friend lifted his eyes and with all his teeth and nose scrunch went, “heh.”

when wonwoo did his ‘heh’ while finally meeting your eyes, something instantly melted inside your chest. although you had a thousand years old shock reflected on your face, you gave him an impressed smile.

“you look,” raising your hands mid-air accompanied by slow blinks of your eyes, you tried to convey your words with all kind of gestures, “absolutely…stunning.”

“ehhh, you think so?”

“of course! what else can i even think of otherwise?” you whisper-yelled at him, attempting to convince him how significantly wondrous he looked in that pale yet brightly white-dyed hair colour.

“thank you, thank you. you`re too kind to me, _______,”

you pfft-ed at him, stopping yourself from getting yourself ahead with anymore compliments thrown at him lest they make wonwoo more flustered than he already was but you were absolutely sure if this interaction had had happened outside this library where silence forever finds its home, you would`ve definitely squealed at the sudden outlook change of your college buddy.

“by the way, what were you looking at on the floor? was it a bug?” wonwoo asked as he turned his head around for a quick glance on the sunlit floorboard.

“wait, so you didn`t greet me right away?” brows furrowed in suspicion, you asked away.

“no, i was watching you through the top gap between the books and the shelf,” he shook his head mischievously, his chin held high.

rolling your eyes, you denied that actually it was not a bug rather you were just captivated by the perfectly shaped sunray. also, what`s with wonwoo and his hobby to watch you when you`re not looking at him and most often when you`re in a trace? he`s been like this since you both have been closely acquainted and you still had no idea why he does it. did he do this just to tease you? or did he know more about things that you were then yet to figure out?

nevertheless as the shyness shredded one layer after another, wonwoo slowly walked up to you and took the textbook you issued last week that you held against your chest. he was supposed to borrow it for the coming week so you were initially there to pass it to him.

“so um, do you want to stay back?” he then offered quite hesitantly.

now at such a close proximity, you were finally able to be more taken by how handsome your friend looked in this new hair colour that completely almost perfectly complemented with his thin-rimmed round silver glasses. therefore, it took your head a bit more time to render the question asked by him.

“huh?” you asked surprised half at his offer and half at his handsome face from your height.

“are you okay? are you still on earth, _____?” wonwoo chuckled while asking as he leaned in to inspect if there`s still any trace of daze inside your eyes.

you instantly shut them not meeting with his own right away. shaking your head, you dismissed anymore thoughts of external admiration for the person in front of you and waved your now empty hands void of the previously held book expressing that you were indeed fine although from inside you knew it was half a lie.

“good, you almost had me a bit concerned there.”

“sorry, you`re a bit distracting right now,” with a nervous laugh, you confessed.

wonwoo, who had already straightened his back didn`t say anything in reply instead he smiled and pointed at the farthest corner of the library behind you, right next to the last window of that direction.

“sit with me there?” he requested with a tilt of his head.

you nod back at him enthusiastically with a hum.

when wonwoo started walking past you and you began to tail behind him with half a meter of distance, you saw the sun following him from behind too and it made you almost close the distance and place the tip of your fingers upon his neck to feel the heat of the sun from his skin.

you witnessed the rays that mingled with the freshly dyed white hair on his head, almost kissing the nape of his neck all the while making you jealous for some unclear reason and illuminating him from the back. the dark blue jeans jacket that hugged his wide back made it almost impossible for you to look past your vision and yet even with that uncertainty lingering around you, you still walked matching his white sneakers clad steps with your black mary jane flats knowing you`re safe and sound with this person.

maybe this was exactly what wonwoo was talking about on orientation day.

almost one year and seven months ago, at the start of your first semester, specifically on the day of your orientation, you found yourself in a dilemma.

not surprised and yet not exactly disappointed at how your lack of sense of direction hadn`t improved since your school days, you stood there in the wrong hallway holding your class schedule in your right hand while the other hand had the tightest grip on the strap of your bag as the reflection of your spiking anxiety.

at the same time, your eyes followed every single student in the hallway as if somehow, according to something inside you, these people had everything figured out in this world and you were, at the end of the day, the only odd ball standing away from the crowd yet again at the sidelines.

“um, hello?”

surprised, with a sharp intake of breath that probably startled the owner of the heavy deep voice too, you turned to your left to find a boy in round silver glass who was almost a head taller than you. he was leaning over with a very evident concern in his feline-like eyes.

wow, he looks just like a cat, even in such distress that you`ve found yourself in, that was literally the first thing that came to your mind when you met with the unnamed boy`s eyes.

“you`re not lost, are you?” he asked you quite slowly as if he was speaking to a child.

he had his eyes so strongly set on you that for some reason you couldn`t steer clear of his face. it was as if he was pulling you in through an abstract formula.

“wow, your voice…”

of course, it was just you thinking out loud and when you saw his brows perk up at your breathless voice, heat gathered across your cheek and you tore your eyes away from his face.

“ah! don`t worry i get that all the time,”

the boy tried to pacify the situation quickly knowing a bit well that you were probably embarrassed to face him after stupidly confessing your honest innermost thoughts.

“sorry,” a little voice came out of your lips, “this is embarrassing but yeah, i think i`m very pathetically lost,” your voice almost sounded like a cry of help from a distance and yet there was not anything that could prepare you for the reaction from the boy you still had no idea why was even yet talking to you?

he probably thought you were an idiot. the best thing he could do was simply ditch you right then.

“wah that`s so cool, no, i would say very comforting,”

now, wait a minute, narrowing your eyes you tilt your head up to stare at him through your lashes, “excuse me-”

“because that makes two of us,”

“huh?!” shocked, you exclaimed as if a bulb just lit up above your head.

the boy`s eyes flickered as he took a sharp head turn at your direction, looking down.

the thought processed so fast inside your head that the sheer joy which burst through you made the boy to stumble back a bit, “are you saying that you`re lost too? because if that`s the truth then my theory is right,” you swept one look at the paper you held in your hand and then up at him before continuing in a voice that had all the confidence in the world, “this directions doesn`t make no damn sense.”

it was as if, him, confessing the truth that he too was lost turned the wheels of time and you somehow travelled back to the time before he had greeted you from behind. it was as if some anonymous creature just kicked the ball of thought of you despising him and it flew across the other side of the hallway.

“i second that,” the boy nods, closing his eyes for half a second, confirming your belief.

you cannot believe that there was any way you were about to declare to yourself that you hated this guy if you knew this kind of plot twist was about to unfold.

“you know, i almost thought you were making fun of me,” you confessed assuming that the boy would probably be in another department so being a tad bit friendly, even for a time being that`s temporary, didn`t seem harmless.

“even if you were lost and i wasn`t, that still wouldn`t be fair of me. everyone has something that they`re not good at, you know?”

“thanks but i always feel like i`m a step behind from everyone at literally everything,” to deflect the fact that you suddenly said something way too dark, you gave him a small smile as you looked back down at the class schedule and the direction that`s drawn by the woman at the office, trying to figure out a solution.

“i don`t think it`s called being a step behind though? it`s called going at your pace. and even if you`re walking behind someone, isn`t it almost like walking behind someone whom you trust with your everything? have you ever had someone behind whom you can walk and not feel scared of where they`re taking you to?”

you didn`t expect him to straight out place a very serious conversation in-between you two but with his countless questions, you were bound to answer at least one of them or else you realized you wouldn`t be able to escape this situation. damn, all for attempting at being a little social.

“of course, i`ve people like that. although i can`t say i trust them with my everything…but i do have people with whom i feel comfortable.”

“then think of your life like that too. think of all these human beings just like us. think of them as someone you know from your town with whom you can trust lending your pencil and them not losing it.”

“is that even possible? i mean most of them these days are just backstabbers in disguise of a good person. we can never know what the person in front of you is thinking.”

“well, first you`ve to stop thinking that everyone is ahead of you. it`s the thought that puts your mind at such negative pedestal. i`m sure if i had not talked with you…you would`ve thought i`ve everything figured out in life, right? not knowing that i`m lost just like you? that i have flaws just like you?”

it was as if this boy was reading your mind from somewhere afar when you thought you were only standing alone, not knowing this boy and looking at everyone in this hallway with anxiety bubbling up inside you.

“now…i can`t argue with that,” you told him, “and, by the way, i`m ______. i feel like at this rate we`ll not get to exchange our names and just debate along.” you let him know, almost smiling.

“hi ______,” he greeted you with a small bow of his head, “i`m wonwoo.”

“you know, you sound like a nice person and….you`ve an unique name plus you speak so well.” and, on top of everything, i can`t believe i`m already jealous of you, you wished you could add that out loud but you didn`t.

“is that a compliment?” it was like he was teasing you. the feel was there at the edge of his voice.

“absolutely yes. i love the sound of your name.”

“wow, i never heard of someone say that.”

“congratulations because now you know.” you declared.

wonwoo, whose name now you finally know and love, nodded his head while you got back to inspecting the directions on the page you were holding.

“so…which department?”

not even five seconds passed when suddenly, he asked you, not wanting to end this conversation. you still have no idea why did he even conversed with you that long. what was so special about finding another person lost just like you? plus you were sure he didn`t think much of your intelligence.

“me? literature.” you said without looking at him.

seconds ticked by and when you didn`t get any answer, you looked up from the class schedule in your hand to wonwoo who stared at you with his lower jaw hung low, disbelief reflected all over his face.

“no way, wonwoo, you`re kidding with me, right?” it didn`t take you a second to understand.

wonwoo was actually from the same department. it was so plainly written on his face that you let out a shaky huff.

next thing you knew, he had taken out his own class schedule from his jeans pocket and both of you had extended each of your arms as you huddled next to one another, holding the schedules side by side and to both of your much greater dismay found all the classes to be a perfect match.

wonwoo had said right away that this must`ve been destiny and you had laughed thinking life must not be real because there was no way right on the first day of college you got to make a friend who was as lost as you in figuring out the orientation room and unexpectedly had the same class schedules for the next one year.

“you know what would be crazier?” chin resting on your palm, you had told him after two weeks of being seatmates at all the classes, “imagine if even for the rest of our semesters we get to be classmates at every single classes. don`t you think that would be wild?”

wonwoo, who was highlighting some lines from his textbook sniffled out a giggle and said without looking up that it`s bound to happen either way because now you both know each other plus sticking together would be much better than getting lost yet again in the hallways while figuring out his and your classes.

you thought you couldn`t agree more than this because it was also then that you had learnt that he was from the same town as you.

but because wonwoo had gone to a different high school, he had never crossed any paths with you in a town that`s so familiar to you two. a place where you both have people whom you`ve known since the beginning of your times and yet it feels so indifferent when you two are next to each other.

because here in this new city filled with strangers was where wonwoo and you found each other through such a situation that hits a little too close to home and can be laughed about in the future. as if both of you were written just like this – fate coming from behind and pulling the string between both of you from the middle to make both ends meet in a place where you will need each other the most.

maybe wonwoo was right that day. maybe this was always how things were supposed to work out between both of you.

presently, against the backdrop of the passing college days and the ordinalities of life, wonwoo has gradually settled against you, like something equivalent to the monsoon air that gingerly touches your bare back during hot summer days, like dew over grasses in the mornings, like cool water that you can feel passing down your throat, through your chest and then to somewhere unknown.

the little mundane things, the things that we overlook most often seemed to become one brick after another that shaped the room in which both of you settled in.

the exchange of written conversations at the top right and left corner of his and your notebooks during classes (depending on who sits on which side that day). the unawareness of overtime spent at each other`s studio apartments. him, arriving at your bedside with new notes from college as you lay in bed under the covers suffering from chronic period cramps and mumbling a small ‘thank you’ while he takes the half-empty water bottle on the bedside rack to refill it from your kitchen, assuring you that it`s nothing.

him, peeling a tangerine for you while you run through your summarized notes the afternoon before exams. you, fervently texting him at midnight, making sure he`s not staying up too late while binge reading any novel that you`ve found him to be secretly consumed in even during classes.

“do you want me to make you some tea?” you ask him on every other evenings because it`s the only thing you`re decent at making, the only good thing that you can make with your own two hands for him while he`s standing in your little kitchen in a white sleeveless tee, the baby blue shirt that he was wearing over it during college hours, now resting on your study chair along with his glasses upon your desk. he tells you, “yes, i would love to,” and while the water boils, he recites you the poem he wrote previous night before falling to sleep while his perfectly combed hair seems to unravel on its own.

“pull me towards the farthest corner of this house and tell me all about the parts of you that`s dead from within. tell me things like as if they`re one god`s whisper and i`ll hold them all upon my palm like dried up lilies,” you heard him recite once from one of his own pieces and wished for that god he talks about in the poem to allow you to travel inside that mind of his.

on the other hand, there`s also you and him, laughing as your and his hands find each other for the entanglement of security, from miss-stepping because after coming out of that air conditioned café that one night, both of your glasses have fogged up and now you both can`t see the curb properly.

with passing days, you had slowly opened up a lot to him, at your pace, just like he asked you to be. it was something that came out like a broken dam spilling in slow motion. a gentle push from behind and everything which was inside you came out spilling one after another, gently and steadily.

wonwoo, who is calm and understanding; wonwoo, who always has words at the tip of his tongue like a poet who has lived through centuries inside his body, made sure to take his time with you, to soften up the edges of this distance between you and him and your jumbled up words when you`re not sure if they truly reflect what you truly feel.

he sees your shortcomings like as if his eyes are the ones that`s imperfect. he doesn`t judge. he doesn`t object. his hums feel like gentle kisses on your shoulders when he`s next to you, standing or sitting, watching your lips open one room`s door after another of your soul allowing him to inch forward and peek into them one at a time, hoping and waiting patiently by the doors for your permission to at least live inside one of them.

at the same time, there are things that wonwoo doesn`t truly understand about you and he calls them your own little mysteries but he accepts the weight that you carry on your shoulders. he holds you against himself and lets you carry the load with half the strength unlike before, like carrying together a heavy bag of grocery – you holding one strap and him, the other one.

you told him about your first love which was painfully unrequited. you told him about your classmates with whom you had made promises to stay in touch but has failed miserably and you know, partially, it`s your fault. wonwoo in return told you to emphasize on the word ‘partially’ because relationships that are truly meant to be, has to always meet half-way. it`s like two curve lines meeting to form a perfect circle. one single line can never make a perfect circle. somehow it will always form not even a perfect oval.

you told him when you had fallen down the stairs and almost broke your nose at 4th grade. he didn`t laugh instead he asked you if it troubles you anymore. you told him no but you`re still cautious when going upstairs at any place. you told him how you don`t like seafood but has to eat it anyway because your mother loves it and doesn`t understand why you don`t. you told him how you wish you knew what daughters with fathers who loves them back feels like and if not, can they ever forgive their fathers for leaving them? because what else is left of you if you forgive them? will the rage go or will the permanent emptiness fade like a crumbled up water bottle getting filled up out of nowhere?

you told him you don`t know if there`s something wrong with you when you feel like you can`t trust anyone or make long lasting friendships. you told him even though you want to love and be loved, you don`t know where to start.

and, wonwoo listens to each of your words, like a dimwit already in love with you. he plays with your rings and traces the lines upon your palms when you have fallen asleep while watching a movie next to him in his dimly lit living room. he allows you to unlink the cuff buttons of his flannels and to roll the sleeves back during winter mornings so as to witness the sun falling upon his skin, while you two are standing inside the train next to the sliding door that takes you both to college.

one same morning like this, wonwoo had an offer to make.

it was one month after the incident in the library when he had revealed his new hair colour. you could see the white fading whenever you stared too long at him. wonwoo said that because it`s almost time for the christmas holidays so he was thinking if both of you could drive back home together considering he had just gotten an international driving license, you know, just out of celebration.

“great. so this means you`ll now get to show off to me that not only are you better in studies than me but also impeccable at driving?” you told him to which wonwoo had let out a big laugh. it`s always a little joke in-between you two – your paranoia of driving on your own which resulted in you not even attempting to take part in any driving lesson, forget even thinking of earning a driving license.

“that…is what you think,” with a shake of his head, he pointed his forefinger at you, “don`t pull me into such thoughts of yours, i don`t want to live inside your head like that.”

“whatever,” your rolled your eyes at his words.

“so?”

“so what?” you rebuked back.

“are you up for it?”

“i don`t know…i need to think,” 

you looked at him for long, into his eyes that was already set on yours. narrowing them, you tried to find something behind that face of his. you still can`t figure how can someone look so much like a cat. but you can`t tell him that now, not in this moment because-

“don’t tell me you`re thinking of me looking like a cat again, ______. i know that eyes way too much at this point,” wonwoo said, almost in a deadpan tone.

goddamn it, jeon wonwoo.

“hey! you can`t just read my mind like that!” with wide eyes, you told him off in embarrassment.

wonwoo chuckled teasingly and at the same time waited ardently for your answer to his offer.

you told him you`ll think about it at the door of your first class and then answer him in the evening, which is exactly what you did. you took his offer up with no hesitance while making ramen for yourself that night and by the time, christmas was three days away, wonwoo was already back to his natural hair colour which was jet black and you`ve never found yourself as enamored by how it complements with his deep set eyes. it`s like you missed seeing him like this.

wonwoo waited for you in front of your studio apartment building with the car that he had borrowed from someone he knows from other department. you asked him if that`s okay to which he said that you didn`t have to worry so much.

“trust me with this, ______,” he said convincingly.

“i just don`t feel good with sitting inside a stranger`s car.”

“not even when i`m the one driving?” wonwoo asked as he fixed the seatbelt on you.

“it`s not about you. of course, i trust you. it`s just…i don`t know. am i being weird again?” you shrugged.

“you`ll be fine, ________, you have me right next to you,”

“don`t you ever get tired of saying all these cheesy stuff?”

wonwoo made a gesture of zipping up his mouth and then contradicted the action in the next second by saying, “also you`re not weird. never to me, at least.” which earned him a very familiar roll of your eyes.

next as wonwoo brought the car to life, you rolled down your window and looked outside, whispering a little temporary goodbye in your mind to the city you both met in.

he dropped you off at your place around seven in the evening and when you told him that you`ll see him again, wonwoo didn`t smile that big instead he told you to play with your old classmates from school rather than boring yourself out with him.

making a displeased face you made sure he understood that you didn`t like what he said. you knew it was never going to happen. you were definitely not going to play with any of your classmates from school. well, maybe, you can catch up with mingyu or something or call joshua if he`s visiting this christmas or not but other than that, there`s really no straight-cut promises there.

“i`ll try,” you told him, “but i can`t promise anything.”

“you`ve to take care of yourself too, _______,”

“i will and you don`t bore me, wonwoo,” you told him as he was turning around to get into the car.

“oh? that makes me feel good,” he replied quite nonchalantly as he nudged his glasses. you knew he was being light-hearted about the sudden heaviness in the air. after all, you two have never been apart this long at least since you`ve met.

there was always a promise of a ‘see you in the morning’ after every ‘goodnight’ in the city that`s not his or yours. but this ‘goodnight’ didn`t have that same ring to it so you didn`t wish him back. you didn`t want this to end.

“wonwoo?” you stepped down the curb in-front of your home, putting your hand on the edges of the window, “do you think we`ll cross each other this time? i mean now we know we live in the same town plus it`s christmas. i`m pretty sure if we both go out respectively, who knows, we might stumble upon each other.”

wonwoo was already inside the car by then when you were speaking but when he heard your question, he leaned onto the passenger seat where you were previously sitting, “the possibility is not zero but i`m not sure,”

you huffed out loud, “why are you being so negative? you know my place at least,”

“not really. and, are you offering a sleepover? at your place?”

“i didn`t say sleepover though. just visiting is enough, you know?”

“what about your mother? won`t she mind?”

at the mention of your mother, you turned around to look at the lit up windows of your place and gulped. closing your eyes, you nodded, “yeah, you`re right,”

“right? so call me,”

“hmmm,” you looked down at your shoes, your lower lip tucked in under your teeth.

“call me, ______,”

“yes. yes, i will,”

“anytime,” the more he spoke, the more his voice softened.

“wonwoo.” this time you lifted your head up and closed your eyes, not looking at him, not looking at anywhere, not even the sky.

“whenever you need me,”

“wonwoo.”  you squeezed your eyes.

“yes?”

“just go,” you said breathlessly.

“if you say so…..then, i`ll pick you up after new year’s, yeah?”

you hummed, nodding your head, your eyes still perfectly squeezed shut.

“are you not even going to say goodnight?”

you shook your head in silence.

“not even look at me?”

“absolutely not.”

you heard him let out a scoff and turn up the engine.

“i`ll see you then,” you heard him say one last time, “goodnight, _____.”

how can he be so okay with this? why does it seem like he will not miss you? it was all that you could think of.

few seconds later, when you heard the sound of his car was a bit far away, you opened your eyes and looked on your right. you saw the backlights of his car that reflected upon the road fading into the distance and when he went out of your sight, a well-known emptiness welcomed you home.

you turned around on your heels and walked up to your entrance door. your mother had cooked a very heavy welcoming dinner for you but you were suddenly not in a mood to eat anything of that sort so you told her, you`ll eat it a bit later. she was a bit put off by your words but when she saw your face and how you looked like someone had knocked out the life out of you, she told you to come out when you would feel hungry enough but warned you not to go to sleep on empty stomach.

you closed the door of your room behind yourself, took your clothes off and went straight for a bath, not knowing what was waiting for you on the day of your return to the city.

yes, you were, of course, terribly mad at wonwoo. you absolutely didn`t expect him to not call or even try to come visit you. he seemed to have ghosted you altogether which was unthinkable to you.

you had called him on the first two nights but neither had he picked them up nor had he replied to you with any reasoning. being fed up, you didn`t even wish him back any ‘happy christmas to you too’ or even a ‘happy new year to you too’ when he texted those two wishes solely. it was your way of giving him a cold shoulder.

so without a single exchange of syllable between you and him for the past more than one week when he was at your doorsteps the morning after new year`s, greeting your mother, introducing himself and telling her how he was there to pick you up, you stood there outside your room`s door, your backpack all ready and packed, chest fuming from inside.

“oh look who`s here.” you said, voice sharp and cold.

wonwoo didn`t react instead with his curled up lips at the corners he stepped inside your house, excusing himself to your mother and went straight for your backpack. you didn`t protest as something told you from inside that the smile that was on his face was simply just a disguise. you`ve after all known him for almost two years at that point.

i`ll tell you everything on the way, he whispered and it sounded like a rumble off his chest as he leaned in against your ear when your mother wasn`t looking.

god, i`ve missed him, you told yourself when he pulled himself away from you and held your eyes for a second before diverting his gaze.

i`ve missed him terribly, you blink slowly as you let out a deep exhale as if you were holding yourself back from breathing when he spoke against your ear.

in the next few hours while wonwoo drove skillfully, he, as promised, told you everything and the anger that you harvested against him for the past one week swished out of the rolled down window next to you and suddenly turned into a puddle of guilt.

apparently, he had fallen terribly ill the morning after he had dropped you off at your place and his health had so much worsened that he was admitted to the hospital for the next two days which meant that he was only discharged on the day of christmas but it was only upon wonwoo`s ardent request. he didn`t want to spend such a special day at the hospital surrounded by the smell of medicines rather he wanted to spend time with his family and if he can, maybe he can surprise you so that you both can go to the local church together to see the decors.

but the doctor had told him very specifically to not go out as the fever might go up if he pushes himself further. so, at the end, he was only sorry for not visiting you and could only wish you over text. although he did think of calling you but he didn`t want to bother you as you might have been busy with your friends and family. he didn`t want to intrude into something he wasn`t a part of. he didn`t want to make you uncomfortable.

you shook your head in denial as you stared straight ahead on the road even though you were not the one driving but wonwoo didn`t notice you so instead, he kept on continuing his story further.

he revealed that it was not until the eve of new year`s that his health had turned around. he confessed that he was feeling quite well but even if he wanted to visit you, he simply yet again didn`t want to invade your space and he figured you might`ve been mad at him for not calling or picking up your phone.

you noticed the tight grip of his hands upon the steering wheel as he spoke. you saw how the knuckles of his already fair hand was much whiter than before and you wanted to reach out to place your hand on them, assuring him that you`ve never thought of him like that ever.

but you didn`t want to disturb him while you two were still on road as it might be dangerous. you wanted him to sit there with his thoughts. you wanted to wait for the arrival of the city that knows all about you two, so that when you and him will only find each other in the room, you can tell him how wrong he was.

as the car drove into the city, wonwoo asked if you wanted him to drop you off at your place to which you shook your head and told him to instead stop by his place. he didn`t question considering it wasn`t anything out of box for you to drop by his place. for the last two years, you guys have spent enough times at each other`s rented place like as if it`s your own four walls. you two even have each other`s spare keys.

when wonwoo unlocked the door and stepped in, he took your and his backpack in both of his arms and took off his shoes at the doorsteps. on the other hand, as you watched him from the doorstep disappearing into his study cum bedroom to place the bags, you kept standing with your back pressed against the closed door collecting your thoughts.

when he came back after finding out that you were nowhere in the kitchen or the living area, he discovered you standing against the door with a solemn expression on your face, the kind of face you make when you`re trying to analysis a poem.

“what happened? not gonna come in?” he asked you.

instead of answering him back, you walked up to wonwoo and placed both of your palm on his shoulders and locked your eyes upon him with a seal.

“whoa,” wonwoo said in a small shaky voice as he cupped your elbows in his own palms. he was a little taken by how serious you looked and teeny tiny bit scared too if he was being completely honest.

“wonwoo, we need to talk.” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“seems like we have to,” he nodded, looking away from you, “is it something to do with college assignments?”

you shook your head slowly.

“it`s about what you said in the car,”

“ohhhhh,” wonwoo`s lips curled up into an ‘o’ and he turned around, taking a small turn into the kitchen with his back facing you. your palms were then gingerly pressing on his shoulder blades as you followed his steps.

“i want you to know that whatever you thought for me when we were back in the town, you were completely wrong about everything,” you started giving shapes to your thoughts as you watched him take two cups, one saucepan out of the dish cabinet and taking the tea bags out of his kitchen closet. although he wasn`t looking at you, he was still nodding thus gesturing you to go on.

you stood at the small kitchen aisle, at the far end of it and laid out your innermost thoughts.

“i`ve never been good with people. i don`t know how to stay afloat with people whom i know but distance has somehow caused a strain in our relationships, but somehow for the first time in a very long time, i want to put some effort in what we have in-between each other,” you said, almost confidently.

wonwoo was standing in front of the oven where the water was starting to heat up. all these while, he hadn`t given you a single glance but when you talked about you and him, he turned around to face you, arms folded on his chest, now listening to you more closely as if something had strung a cord inside him.

“you don`t bore me, wonwoo, you….at least you can never do that,” you could feel it on your face that you were holding a painful expression and you observed his eyes softening, his lips parting at the sight, “since the day i`ve met you, you`ve given me a place where i belong. you`ve given me space, time and made me discover the ability to long for someone. something which i thought i would never have,”

you took small steps ahead, closing the distance between you two by few centimeters, “when you didn`t call me, when you didn`t text me other than wishing, i thought you were ignoring me. i thought you were probably so busy hanging out with your own friends that you completely forgot about me. i was angry. i felt betrayed which…” you laughed, looking down, “sounds quite silly now because at least i should know what kind of a person you are,”

“what kind of a person am i,______?” wonwoo asked as he swiftly turned around to pour the boiled water into the cups with the tea bag already put in. his voice was deep and it almost vibrated from him to you.

“you`re….” you gulped, suddenly scared of your own thoughts and the things that might inflict, “you`re…someone i, i want to be with!” you said the last words so quickly that as soon as the words registered upon wonwoo`s face, you slapped your hand on your mouth with the widening of your eyes.

wonwoo who was stirring the tea previously, had altogether stopped his action and looked at you mirroring your eyes. he placed the saucepan very slowly next to the cups and turned his attention completely on you.

and, you don`t remember what came upon you suddenly. you don`t recall this kind of boldness in you as you moved extremely close to him, minus all the distance and clasped his bicep with the hand that you had covered your own mouth with as if you were holding onto him from falling out, from running away.

“you!” eyes wide, shaking your head, denying every single thought that you thought was passing through wonwoo`s head, that you couldn`t figure through his eyes, “you have all the permission to intrude, wonwoo. instrude as much as you can. if anything, i want to let people know about you, about what you are to me, about what you do to me. i want to explain, wonwoo, i want to explain thousand times to people what you mean to me because i-”

wonwoo eyes flickered as your chest heaved with heavy breaths, he watched your mouth doing all the breathing and he forgot all about the tea as he clasped onto your other arm that was holding tight onto the edge of the kitchen aisle.

although you stumbled into his chest as he held you close against him, your eyes never left his face and the same went for him as wonwoo didn`t steer clear of you once.

“i love you,” and, he finished your sentence.

“what?” you stared up him, bewildered.

“love,” wonwoo closed his eyes as if weighing his choice of word, as if calculating if whatever he`s saying was right or not, before nodding, “yeah, i….i love you,”

“is that why…”

“no, no – i mean, it`s a bit childish but i didn`t say all that because i wanted to,”

“i don`t understand, please tell me,” you shook him with your arms, provoking him, begging him to tell you what he was hiding, “i want to know, i need to know, wonwoo, i have to know what`s going on inside your mind,”

for almost close to ten minutes, both of you stood there, in each other`s arms unaware of how they were protecting you two from falling, unaware how each of them were sharing the strength to face the truth. wonwoo confessed everything to you and you, on the other hand, confessed certain things to yourself.

like how even though you were never and still is not good with physical interaction especially if that exchange is out of love, out of intimacy of the same, you didn`t flinch from being in wonwoo`s arms for that long. you weren`t bothered by how close he was. his breath falling upon your face, his voice sending happy goosebumps on your skin and the warmth of his body encasing you like a warm blanket after a night full of rain felt like home.

and, of course, wonwoo wanted to call you. even though he was sick, he wanted to take that opportunity and be selfish for once and ask you to be next to him, spend the christmas eve at his place or maybe somewhere else but it had to be with him. he wanted you all by himself and nowhere near where he didn`t know you before he actually knew you.

that town knew parts of you that he didn`t and he was jealous that that place had a kind of relationship with you that he probably can never have even if he wanted. he told you if time travelling actually existed, he would do anything to travel back in time and meet you and make sure you remember him.

wonwoo was jealous of the people whom you knew, with whom you shared chapters of your past, with whom you went through all the changes, all your pain as you faced them upfront, even your very first love. he was jealous that he wasn`t there to face them with you and that is why when he told you to be with your friends in the town, he was speaking out of sheer jealousy but he told you not to think for once that he was mad at you and that even if you did spend times with them, he would never be mad because it`s not something you should do just for his sake. he just doesn`t want to change anything about you. he wants to take you in just like the way you were made.

“so, you were jealous of my friends, of the people i knew before you?” you smiled as you asked him when you`ve both calmed down.

wonwoo nodded being all shy and not meeting with your eyes.

to which, you confessed that actually you didn`t meet with anyone, that you had spent most of your time inside your room, watching movies and working on your studies and eating all the food that your mother had cooked out of the christmas and new year`s celebration because you were mad at him.

“is it because i never called?”

“hmmm,” you hummed back in agreement with a visible pout.

“i`m sorry. i should`ve called you. i should`ve called you to visit the church with me,”

“it`s okay. it doesn`t matter now. we`re here now,” you said, as you hugged him, “together, in a place where you don`t have to be jealous of anyone.”

wonwoo groaned in embarrassment as he buried his face at the crook of your neck and you sniffled out a giggle against his own.

you never knew that wonwoo had this side of him so you found yourself to be amused.

“so when did it start?” you asked him from over his shoulders.

wonwoo, whose face was snuggled up against your neck told you that it was around the end of first year in college when he started realizing that he, no matter, how he tried couldn`t see you as just friends. he wanted to put in more efforts so he also tried his hand at poetry and ended up writing a bunch of stuff that he would read to you.

he confessed that in each of those poems that he wrote dedicated to you in silence, he wanted to leave a piece of himself in-between the lines wishing that one day when all of his words are written and done with, he would be completely yours from that day on.

“that`s wonderful, wonwoo….that sounds exactly like something you`d do to impress your lover,” you told him.

wonwoo pulled himself away from your neck and softly pressed his forehead against yours, “what about you?” he whispered.

you smiled against his mouth as you felt his arms wrapping you up against him, closing all the minimum distance that was there before. you looked down, suddenly a bit flustered as you could feel him staring through you, “promise me…you`ll not laugh?” you stared up at him for a second waiting for his reply. wonwoo gave you a microscopic shook of his head and small kiss against the corner of your left eye.

closing your eyes at the sudden kiss, you sniffled a small laugh, “okay okay so…you know i`m bad at cooking right?”

wonwoo nodded, “you mean, we are bad at cooking?”        

“um yeah kind of, but you`re good with poems at least so…when we started hanging out together a lot at each other`s place, i realized that even though i hate cooking and that i don`t find myself motivated enough to even try….the more and more close we became, the more i wanted to make something for you,”

“you wanted to cook me food? to impress me?”

you pulled your head back staring at the ceiling for a while deep in thoughts and on the other hand, wonwoo had a smirk painted upon his face as he looked at you.

“not exactly impress…i would say i wanted to take care of you?”

“that`s why you would make tea for me while i would read you poems?”

“wow,” you widened your eyes, realizing something as your cheeks lifted up in a big smile, “i just realized that we both were trying to indirectly impress each other without even knowing what the other one was doing,”

“god, we`re really dense, aren`t we?” wonwoo declared.

“also, the reason why i opted for tea and not food because after many failed attempts i realized that i don’t want you to die from eating my cooked dish…like, i`m serious, it`s bad. very bad.”

“i know i would`ve eaten it with a smile on my face though,” wonwoo leaned in as he spoke with a tease at the end.

your hand reached his shoulders and then climbed up to wrap your palms against jaw and neck, “oh you don`t know anything…”

wonwoo hummed in denial as he slowly parted your lips with his and breathed against your mouth before pressing them against yours. he took one of his hand and placed it at the back of your head to support you as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss while he heard you reciprocating his previous hum against the smile on his face.

after the mutual confessions from that day, nothing much changed in-between both of you.

wonwoo and you would still have conversations like before but now you`d sit more close to each other. you two still had each other on speed-dials or as emergency contact. he would still deliver you notes when you`d be sick and you`d still warn him not to stay up late and of course, you would still bicker around with him, spend times cramming for exams and convince him to get different kind of haircuts or hair colours which he would sometimes agree on and sometimes give you a questionable look.

“um i don`t think that colour will look good on me…” he would say unsure.

“no no no, don`t you know? handsome people look good in anything and,” you would flick his chin and tell him that he`s the most handsome in the world to which he would proceed to bite onto your finger pretentiously.

“ack! you`re really a cat!” you would retort.

maybe the only additional thing to this package deal of you both is that now you two would end up having multiple make-out sessions at his and your places and mostly, especially in the kitchen.

it`s quite funny and ironical how you both are bad at cooking but somehow would always end up using the kitchen as a space to show each other love in a way that consumes both of you.

the soft kisses at the corridors of college where no one is looking would only stir up something more than enough from inside and you discovered that when you yearn for someone, when you want someone to completely take you, your mind would simply not rest until the deed is done with.

and that`s why, during after college hours when the two of you would settle against either of yours kitchen aisle – him, with his diary of poetry and you, with the warm cups of tea, things would simply not end just there.

the tension would only grow and wonwoo would always end up in-between your legs, tasting the tea against your mouth, smiling and kissing your band-aid clad knee that you bruised while being clumsy on road on a certain day. your toes would gingerly graze against his bare midriff while he does that and you will know you`re alive, he`s kissing your knee, his strong hands holding the back of your knees and you`re alive. the goosebumps are the proof that you exist in this moment with the love that you deserve.

his shirt buttons would be undone and your hands would be caressing his bare skin under the shirt that`s not completely taken off. he would always find himself kissing you across the span of your neck, your chest and the back of your upper arm while he puts them upon his shoulders. he would be undressing you and be completely enamored by how goddamn beautiful you are and then he would use his strength to lift you up against him and place you upon the kitchen aisle while simultaneously caressing your bare legs and wrapping them around his hips to let you have him like he wants to have you.

the kisses would only grow fervent, it would go on for hours leaving you two breathless and extremely hot from within, bare chests pressed against each other. you two would take turns to take off the other one`s glasses while giggling and then proceed to quickly wrap each other in each other`s arms not leaving a single space in-between you for long as wonwoo would personally take the responsibility to shift both of you in the couch or either of yours bed.

“you okay?” he would ask you while laying you down and placing the pillow under your head.

“hmm, okay.” you would nod and reply a bit quickly, encasing his face in your palms and pulling him in.

it was wild to think how you could even control yourselves this much before you two had declared your feelings for each other and gave this relationship a name.

it was like with the confession, some doors inside the two of you has been unlocked and now it`s somehow extremely difficult to get out of them.

the relationship with wonwoo isn`t anything like what you had with any others. personally, the last time you simply had any romantic feelings for anyone, it was jeonghan and that too was more innocent than this.

wonwoo might not have been your first love but he is that final line of this chapter. he has unwrapped a part within you that you didn`t know existed, that you feared wasn`t in you. sometimes you told yourself perhaps he doesn`t love you, perhaps it`s just a liking. but something brave inside you told you that he indeed loves you and that even if you`re too blind to fully take in everything, it is alright, just like wonwoo said, go at your own pace but just stay afloat, just stay with him.

because for you to feel alive, his hands has already reached a part deep within you that you yourself haven`t reached and his lips has kissed the blood in your hands, the blood that has dried up while holding onto yourself from falling apart and the pain inside your ribs.

the ‘you’ who once felt like you were defective at certain aspects of your life found yourself running through the finish lines of each and every one of them. and, at every end of that line was wonwoo, standing and waiting for you.

it was the reassurance that he gives you that moves you from within. maybe this is how you two were written, meeting each other in the middle - his cheek on your chest and you kissing the nape of his neck, right where the sun reaches every single day where no one from any part of that town has kissed him.

fin.

[dreamofbecoming]

pale shadows of forgotten names

so people seem to be enjoying my writing lately, and i realized i never properly posted my first witcher fic on here when i first wrote it- i posted a link to the ao3, but i wasn’t super active in the fandom yet and i didn’t make it readable on tumblr. so i thought i would share it here now, in case anyone is interested, and because it’s nice to have all my writing together in my tag on here

pls note i knew even less about the non-netflix canon then than i do now, so everything about spying is just made up lmao

ao3

geraskier, post-s2, getting together

rating: t

wc: 13k

“Might be best if I stay out of Redania for a while, actually.”

“If you get arrested, I’ll just break you out again. There’s a book there I need, the copy in Kaer Morhen’s library was destroyed. Vesemir said he knew someone in Oxenfurt who might be able to get his hands on one.” Geralt’s tone, as usual, leaves very little room for argument. Luckily, Jaskier has never needed much room when it comes to arguing. Certainly not with Geralt.

“It’s not just that, I really shouldn’t get close to Tretogor anytime soon, either. Especially with Ciri being hunted by half the Continent.” He’s hoping desperately that they won’t ask why, but who is he kidding. His luck is never that good.

“And why, exactly, is Tretogor a problem? Not that we would want to parade around a capital city regardless, but I’m curious. Oxenfurt I get, they’ll be looking for the Sandpiper, I’m sure, or at least the twit that broke out of their jail, but what’s in Tretogor?”

Damn the fucking witch, always too perceptive for her own good. And to think he was almost starting to like her. Well, at least the familiarity of wanting to claw her eyes out is comforting.

Jaskier sighs. He should probably be honest with them if they’re going to travel together, though who knows how long that state of affairs will last this time. Still, he’s not going to risk Ciri. He’d have kept his silence if it were just Geralt and the witch- he already has, in fact, and it worked for nearly 20 years, after all- but Ciri is precious cargo. The rules have changed.

Plus, Yen could probably just read his mind now that she has her magic back. Fucking sorceresses.

Speaking of, “Alright, but not here,” he sighs. “Wait until we make camp and Yen can set up wards or silencing spells or something.” He hasn’t noticed any white owls following them, but she’s always been good at avoiding being seen. That’s sort of the point, he supposes.

“Who do we need wards from, Jaskier? Are you being followed? Should I have left you behind? Did I put Ciri in danger by trusting you?” Geralt’s voice is hard, and Jaskier feels hurt pool in his belly for a moment before cold anger takes its place again.

“Considering I just traipsed halfway across the continent and back, no questions asked, and nearly died trying to help stop a fucking demon from killing her, what the fuck do you think, Geralt? I’ll remind you that only one of us has known and loved her since she was small. Do you really believe I would do that to her? To you?” And maybe that last bit wasn’t really meant to come out, certainly not in that small, sad little voice, but Jaskier is nothing if not a master of pushing through slip ups and missed lines. He’s a goddamn professional. He doesn’t let his expression change where he’s glaring up at Geralt’s stupid, angry, handsome face. Fucker.

He’s traveled with Geralt a long time. Almost a quarter century, on and off (including this last year, which was most decidedly off), more than half of that physically by his side. He knows the Witcher’s face better than he knows his own, and he can predict Geralt’s reaction in almost any scenario you care to name. A perceived threat met with scorn will make him double down on his anger, almost guaranteed. Jaskier knew this going in, but he didn’t spend half a year belting his rage and betrayal to every student and passing traveler in a hundred miles (not to even mention the whole ‘living through a massacre’ thing) to be cowed by Geralt’s glower now, no matter how distressingly sexy it may or may not still be. Or how it maybe still makes his stomach twist with something sick and anxious at the idea of having disappointed him. Again. Fuck that. Geralt has no right to be disappointed in him, not this time.

So naturally he’s a little shocked when, after a few more seconds of unreasonably attractive scowling, Geralt, improbably, backs down.

He heaves a sigh where’s he’s perched on (new) Roach, a sleeping Ciri safely ensconced in his arms on the saddle in front of him. His eyes fall shut for a moment, and when they open, the cold fury is gone, replaced with something that looks a lot like…regret? Sadness? It’s hard to tell in the dark, but regardless, the air of melancholy around him right now is out of character for this particular situation, and extremely disconcerting. Jaskier is definitely disconcerted.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Jaskier. I do trust you. There’s a cave not far from here, it shouldn’t be too hard to secure. We can make camp soon.”

Was that…an apology? An actual, genuine expression of remorse, unprompted and freely given? He pokes Geralt’s upsettingly firm calf, staring incredulously.

“Are you really Geralt? Do I need to check you with silver or something? Yen, read his mind. Is he some kind of Doppler? Is this actually our Witcher?”

Geralt’s face is flatly unamused, and he kicks out to swat Jaskier’s hand away. Luckily, Jaskier has decades of practice avoiding Witcher speed for annoyance purposes, and pulls his hand back before Geralt can accidentally break his fingers or something. At least, he thinks it would be accidental. Probably.

Atop her borrowed mare, curtesy of Kaer Morhen’s surprisingly impressive herd, Yen raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Geralt’s obvious irritation. “It’s a fair question, Geralt. Immediate, unsolicited apologies for bad behavior are not exactly your brand.” Jaskier is grudgingly impressed that she manages to keep the arch look on her face despite his current frigid distance from her. Apparently they’re not back to mutual teasing levels of familiarity yet, though he’s sure it will only be a matter of time before they’re back to forgetting he’s there mid-sentence to go fuck like stupidly attractive, scary, powerful rabbits. Won’t that be fun to live through again.

Geralt glares harder. Jaskier can’t actually see his face well enough to be sure, but he can always feel when Geralt is glaring, and the angry face quotient in the air definitely goes up a few degrees.

“Cave’s just up here. Jaskier, start setting up camp. Yen, wards. I’ll get Ciri and the horses settled and find something for supper.” He nudges Roach’s flanks and pulls ahead, aiming for a little gap in the trees near a rocky outcropping Jaskier can just barely make out in the scant moonlight. Conversation over then, at least for now.

Yen looks vaguely affronted. “Is it always like this? Traveling with him?”

“What, the glowering? Or the barked orders and being left behind?” If perhaps those words are a touch more bitter than they would have been a year and a half ago, well. That’s no one’s business but his own.

“Both, I suppose? The time I’ve spent with him has rarely been on the road, but he’s never been quite so…demanding. We didn’t exactly do much talking on the way to Kaer Morhen. I’m quite sure he would happily have killed me, or at least have been actively trying to shake me and leave me in the dust, if he hadn’t been so focused on getting to Ciri as quickly as possible.” There’s something brittle and harsh in her tone that feels uncomfortably familiar. It’s far too much like the heavy weight in his ribcage these days, sharp-edged and desperate and miserable.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!” The hurt and dread freezing his blood in his veins, ice cold and inexorable. The awful silence, waiting for him to take it back, to laugh, to say it was all a horrible joke, or even a dream. The yawning pit of heartbreak and despair that started to rend his chest open, as the reality set in that this was actually it, actually the end, after everything-

Nope. No. Absolutely not. He is done with that, thank you. He is quite finished reliving that moment again and again (and again), he has put it behind him, he is a different man now. A stronger man. A man who won’t betray the loyalty he promised so long ago, but who refuses to let his heart back into the mix this time. He wrote a song about it and everything.

Funny how he almost believes it.

“Oh, I’m sure he was always far more…solicitous with you, darling. This is pretty much standard. The apology is new, and I’m a little surprised he’s letting me set up camp unsupervised,” (this is said with an impressively deep eye-roll, of course), “but besides that, yeah.”

He should be offended that he’s surprised to be given that responsibility, probably. He’s actually a remarkably competent traveler, both with company and without, but even towards the end it rarely occurred to Geralt that Jaskier managed to survive by himself for months or years at a time, or that the camp ended up much the same as it started even when he felt the need to redo all of Jaskier’s work, or that he wasn’t the one cooking the food he hunted or patching his own wounds when Jaskier was around. Not even the handful of times their camp was targeted by bandits, and several of them were already dead by the time Geralt got to them, seemed to register. Or all the times he came back addled and injured from a hunt, and Jaskier knew exactly which potions he needed to recover, and where to find them. Jaskier isn’t sure the great White Wolf ever even noticed a difference. He’s once again a little amazed that it took him so long to see it, that those furious words on the mountaintop actually managed to catch him by surprise. Love really is blind, he supposes.

The cave isn’t huge, but there’s enough room for four bedrolls and a small fire pit without having to snuggle up too close to each other, and it’s dry and lacking in horrid smells or angry monsters, so Jaskier has definitely seen worse.

Roach is tied near the cave entrance, under a small overhang jutting out from the rock to provide her some shelter from the elements. He wants to ask what happened to the old Roach, his- well. Not his Roach anymore, he supposes, not for a while, but he was still fond of her. It had taken years to win her over, but they were good friends by the end, he thought. Certainly she was freer with her affection than her rider. (Which, he realizes now, probably had more to do with his dearth of affection actually available than with his crushing emotional incompetence.) It isn’t really his place to ask, not anymore, but he wishes he could. New Roach is fine, she’s admittedly beautiful and probably a lovely animal, but he misses his friend.

Jaskier has the camp fully set up and a small fire going, near enough to the entrance not to fill the cave with smoke, but far enough inside so as not to be easily seen, and Yen has left her mount next to Roach, filled their waterskins, and is finishing up with the last of the wards shielding them from being found or overheard, when Geralt returns bearing…an entire deer. Fucking overachieving cockhead. He’s cleaning that shit himself, Jaskier isn’t interested. It definitely isn’t sexy seeing Geralt stride in, slightly blood-spattered, biceps bulging, thighs flexing, evidence of his prowess slung easily over his shoulders like a king’s mantle…nope. Not sexy at all. Jaskier isn’t even looking. He certainly isn’t biting back an embarrassing whimper.

He turns around hastily to begin rummaging through his pack for his spices and cooking supplies, filched from Kaer Morhen, of course, since all he had on him when Geralt found him in Oxenfurt was his charm and good looks. He wishes he had his lute, but it’s probably in pieces, rotting in a rubbish heap in Redania. He’ll mourn her at some point. Besides, he’s not sure he would be able to stop himself playing Burn, Butcher, Burn just on reflex, so it’s probably for the best.

They eat a decent supper of venison stew, Ciri waking just long enough to scarf down a bowl and collapse back onto her bedroll. Demon possession and Sphere-jumping really seem to take it out of a person.

Yen tosses another silencing charm around Ciri’s bedroll (they’ll fill her in tomorrow- they don’t intend to keep secrets from her but she deserves her sleep) and Geralt gets to work packing the leftover venison in salt for the road, before they both look up at him expectantly with eerily similar, piercing gazes. Violet and gold, a royal combination if ever there was one. Oh, that’s nice actually, there’s a song in there somewhere. Not one he wants to sing, really, but he’ll probably end up writing it at some point anyway.

“Alright, sharing time, I guess. Always figured this was coming eventually. Not that I imagined anything like this, what with the demons and the horrible rock monsters and the dimension hopping and- yes, yes, alright, I’m getting to it. Calm down.” He heaves a sigh. Hopefully they don’t toss him out on his arse after this, or just kill him. He doesn’t think they’d kill him. Would they? No, they wouldn’t. Probably.

“So you know I’m technically Redanian.” Yennefer nods expectantly while Geralt just. Blinks at him. Fucking gods, honestly. “Wow, ok, you really never paid attention at all when I talked, huh? That makes sense, actually. I guess I should have figured that.” He’s staring into the fire to shield the hurt in his eyes, so he misses the matching look on Geralt’s face before he presses on.

“Anyway, yeah, I’m Redanian, from Kerack, Lettenhove to be specific. Seriously? I’ve introduced myself to a dozen people in front of you with my full name, you really never- ok, yeah, right, never mind. Moving on. Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. That’s me. Or, it was. Technically it still is, but I never wanted the title. I never wanted that life. I left for Oxenfurt as soon as I was old enough, and when I graduated I went on the road, and then. Well. Then I met you, and, well, you know. You were there. For the rest. Some of it, anyway. Right. Well, Vizimir, or more likely someone on his council, since Vizimir is about as savvy and creative as a garden slug, and almost as charming, and I’m not sure if Dijkstra was advising him at that point-“ He catches Yennefer’s sharp look at Dijkstra’s name, but barrels on, “-anyway, someone noticed that a minor Redanian noble was doing a lot of very visible traveling all over the Continent and associating with a lot of people the Crown wouldn’t normally have an in with, and figured that would be useful. I think at this point, we’d been traveling together…2? 3 years? Something like that. Long enough that I’d started building a name for myself, definitely. Or, for us, I suppose. That’s why they noticed me in the first place.”

He knows he’s babbling, but there are nerves roiling in his gut like a cauldron, and that feeling has always translated into more words, for him. Like a pressure valve. He pauses and risks a glance at the person whose reaction he’s genuinely worried about.

Yen will understand, she’s been in and out of courts and noble circles and political tangles for decades, she knows how this works. She probably won’t trust him, but he’s fairly sure she doesn’t trust him now, so that’s no great loss. He doesn’t trust her either.

Geralt has a more…rigid concept of morality. In Geralt’s world, there are Right Things and Wrong Things. Sometimes you have to do Wrong Things to prevent Wronger Things, but that doesn’t make them not Wrong. And anything to do with kings and courts is usually Wrong. There’s a good chance Geralt might never forgive him for this, or if he does, he won’t be able to look past Jaskier keeping it from him so long.

Geralt’s eyes are fixed on his face, sharp and intent, and utterly unreadable. Jaskier thought he had gotten pretty good over the years at reading the subtle shifts in Geralt’s expressions- the tiny crinkles around his eyes when he wanted to laugh, the minute furrow between his brows when he was confused, the slight tick in his jaw when he was frustrated- but his face is as blank as new parchment right now, nothing but the glint in his golden eyes that says he’s listening to every word out of Jaskier’s mouth.

What a time for him to start doing that, he thinks bitterly. Decades of tuning him out when he thought they were friends, and now that Jaskier might be driving him away for good (again, a tiny voice whispers viciously), he’s hanging on every syllable.

“I was approached by a member of the royal intelligence service, and told that the king had ordered that I be recruited as a spy. Technically I am still nobility, and as such I’m obligated to obey the crown. And while I would gladly give up all the trappings of my title and never be anyone but Jaskier the bard ever again, at the time there would have been serious consequences for refusing, and not the kind that would fall on me. I’m technically a Lord, and I do have people I’m responsible for. I left people in charge that I trust to take care of them in my stead, but it’s my name they’re working under. And if I refused a direct order from Vizimir, I wouldn’t be the one to suffer for it. It wasn’t an option.”

He doesn’t look up from the fire. He doesn’t want to see the expressions on their faces, so he presses on, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“I did my best to keep my reports…not vague, exactly, but mostly useless, I guess? Obviously I have no interest in being a part of whatever bullshit Vizimir or any other king feels like stirring up, but I had to send them something. Little stuff, mostly, frivolous gossip from the taverns I played in, details of drama and rivalries I picked up in various courts or nobles’ beds. Sometimes accounts of monster populations or incidents if there was anything especially notable, since they knew that’s a lot of what I was doing with my time. Nothing actionable, but useful enough that I couldn’t be accused of shirking my duties.” He’s suddenly struck with an awful fear, and he looks up desperately into slitted golden eyes. “I never said a word about Ciri, Geralt, you have to believe me. I told them about that night, and I had to mention that Pavetta had magic because there’s no way that wouldn’t get out some other way, but I never said a word about a Witcher claiming a Child Surprise. I would never risk her like that, or you, you have to believe me. Please say you believe me Geralt, whatever you think of me, that I would never betray you like that. Please.”

He knows he sounds frantic, that he must look insane, that he can’t stop his begging mouth like a runaway cart, but the thought of Geralt thinking even for a second that Jaskier would ever put orders from a king he cared nothing for over Geralt’s own life, over the life of a child, is a knife in his gut, twisting and pulling until Jaskier thinks he might vomit if Geralt doesn’t say something.

The blank expression is gone, and Geralt looks somewhat taken aback. His brow furrows a little in what looks like confusion, before settling into resignation, or maybe chagrin. Jaskier thinks for a moment that he sees a brief flash of what almost looks like…grief? That can’t be right…in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it appeared, and Jaskier thinks he must have imagined it.

Geralt takes a swig from his waterskin and draws in a deep breath before speaking.

“I wasn’t worried that you betrayed Ciri, Jaskier. I know you would cut off your own arm before you did something like that. I don’t love where it sounds like this story is going, but I promise, I’ll never be concerned about that.”

That’s…well, those are more words than he was expecting, surely. And different words than he was expecting, too. He would assume that Geralt is placating him, to calm him down and get him to finish talking, but he can hear the sincerity in his voice. Geralt’s eyes are almost imploring, as if he’s as anxious for Jaskier to believe him as Jaskier had been to be believed. He…isn’t sure what to do with that, actually.

He knows Geralt came back for him, knows he was at least not lying when he said he missed him (though how much is anyone’s guess), knows he trusts him to travel with his…his little family, to help keep them safe or at least not make things worse, but he never assumed it went beyond that.

Geralt was clear, on that mountain. Even if he’s sorry now, even if he missed having him around, he meant those words at the time, and Jaskier has no illusions that he won’t get to that point again. Geralt may have spat those words in helpless anger, may have turned his ire on someone who had nothing to do with the state he was in at that moment, but Geralt doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. He says plenty of things he regrets, but he always means them at the time. He did, at one point, believe Jaskier to be a curse and a burden, and Jaskier is fully aware that he will come to that belief again, eventually.

He knows what that particular heartbreak feels like, now. He knows he can survive it, even if he wishes he wouldn’t, sometimes. Mostly, he knows that it will always, always be worth it. Geralt will always be worth it.

Gods but he’s a lovesick fool.

But now, instead of cold distain, or fiery wrath, or, worst of all, blank indifference, Geralt is looking at him like…like he’s sorry. Like he’s desperate for Jaskier’s forgiveness. Forgiveness for what? Jaskier is the one who hid the fact that he was a spy for most of their relatio- friendship. Acquaintanceship. Association. Whichever one wouldn’t piss Geralt off. Geralt hasn’t fucked up here, this time at least.

But he could never resist when Geralt asked him like this for anything, with genuine emotion instead grunted contempt, with even the vaguest hint of affection, like maybe Geralt enjoyed spending time with Jaskier, too. Like maybe Jaskier mattered to Geralt, at least a fraction of how much Geralt mattered to Jaskier. Gods above, he’s so weak for this man.

“Ok. Alright, good. That’s good. I’m glad. Thank you. I know I- anyway. Thank you. Right, where was I? Yes, ok, reports. So I kept myself mostly useless for pretty much the whole time we were together. I mean- not. Not together, obviously, but traveling together. As friends. Or not friends. Whatever. What was I saying?” He’s spiraling, fuck, he’s spiraling, he needs to get out of this, how does he get out of this?

Geralt is looking even more confused than before, but Yennefer is definitely laughing at him in her head. Witch. Like she isn’t just as much of a mess for him. She should be on his side! They bonded over this already and everything!

At least the indignation is enough for him to pull out of the whirlpool of awkward babble and self-sabotage he was trapped in, and he manages to right himself.

“Anyway! Ok! So! Right, well, things changed not quite a year ago, now, after the raid on Bleobheris.” He sobers at the memories, the scent of blood and the sound of screams suddenly heavy in the dry air of the cave. “It was…brutal. I’ve never seen anything like that, not in all my years Witchering with you. I wanted to help. I needed to do something, to…fix something. Anything, no matter how small. That’s when I was contacted by an anonymous benefactor, who offered to fund an effort to smuggle refugees to Xin’Trea. Word had spread about Nilfgaard’s alliance with the elves, that they could be safe there.”

“So the Sandpiper was born,” Yennefer says.

“Right. But I don’t like not knowing where my help is coming from and why. I may not have been a very useful spy in Redania’s eyes for the last 20 years, but it actually takes quite a bit of effort to be ineffective without being useless enough to fire or kill, and as it turns out, I’m actually quite good at it. Call it the performer’s heart in me, or something. So I was able to ferret out that the man behind the money was Sigismund Dijkstra, who had managed to get himself appointed spymaster to Vizimir, which, interestingly, made him my employer, as well as my benefactor.”

Yen looks up sharply again at Dijkstra’s name. Jaskier turns to her, curious.

“You’re familiar, I assume?”

“He’s been causing rifts at Aretuza, riling up the Brotherhood,” she says, brow furrowed. “Pretending to bring counsel and information but really just sowing discord. I’m not clear on the details, but I know elves were mentioned. There are those on the council who take issue with my heritage, so I try to keep on top of the rumors. I wasn’t at Aretuza for long, though, and I…didn’t exactly leave on good terms. I haven’t got many friends left there.” Geralt glances at her sympathetically.

Jaskier nods. “That sounds like him. I wouldn’t trust that man to clean my privy, much less provide thousands of crowns, probably from Vizimir’s coffers, for a worthy cause with no expectations of repayment.” He shakes his head. “I kept my suspicions to myself, though, the network needed the coin and regardless of his motivations, we really were helping people. I wasn’t going to let that go to waste.

“I guess, with me finally settling in one place for so long, and probably Dijkstra feeling like I owed him for the funding, even though I wasn’t meant to know it was him, they started expecting more from me, in terms of intelligence. I didn’t really have a choice, since now they always knew where to find me if they wanted to cause me problems, and besides, Dijkstra was already privy to the network’s efforts anyway as the main benefactor, so I figured it was mostly alright that I’ve had to give more…comprehensive reports to Vizimir the last several months.

“Since Cintra fell, most people know about Ciri, or at least that she’s on the game-board somehow. There are rumors of Nilfgaard searching for a Witcher, so I’m sure some people have put together that you’re involved somehow, but I don’t think too many of the courts, at least, have details. Just that Nilfgaard wants her and maybe there’s a Witcher involved. I made sure not to include too much information that they didn’t already have, but I can’t say for sure what every Northern king knows, or what the Brotherhood knows.” He glances at Yen, who shakes her head and shrugs.

“Anyway, so that’s the meat of it. The concern is that since I became an actual useful asset for them, they’ve been keeping a much closer eye on me. That’s why I was worried about the wards.”

“Alright, I can understand all of that,” Geralt cuts in. “I don’t like that you kept it from me, but I can’t fault your choices. You’re right that we can’t have them sniffing around you, not with Ciri in your orbit.” He frowns. “Would it be possible for you just…fall off the map? Disappear? Redania can’t demand anything from a missing viscount.”

Jaskier winces a little. “I would love to do that, the problem being that Dijkstra works closely with Tretogor’s court mage, who has the charming little talent of transforming into a bird whenever she wants.”

Yen’s eyebrows both go up this time. “Phillipa? She’s quite impressive. A little too entrenched in political intrigue for my taste, but I can’t deny she’s talented. Tissaia speaks very highly of her, certainly.”

She looks thoughtful as she gazes at him over the fire. “You’re worried she’s following you, then? For information on Geralt, since everyone knows Jaskier the Bard is the man to talk to if you want to know about Witchers.”

Her tone is…teasing? Is she teasing him? First hugging, and now teasing? Yeah, he’s not dealing with that right now. He sticks out his tongue at her (he does still have a bantering streak to uphold, after all) before nodding.

“I don’t know for sure  if she was in Oxenfurt when Geralt broke me out. I don’t think so, but I certainly wasn’t combing every tree for owls, and there’s no chance of me noticing her out here in the woods. I’m just hoping that if she were around now, you’d sense her, Yen, and that she wasn’t able to bring back anything about Ciri or Geralt or Kaer Morhen to Dijkstra. Or you, either, since the Brotherhood are so unhappy with you.”

Yen looks surprised and very slightly pleased to be included in Jaskier’s concern. Or at least Jaskier thinks that’s the expression he can parse under her normal very scary murder face, which he finds is almost a relief to see. The soft regret and concern of recent weeks has been…unsettling. The sun rises, the rain falls, Yennefer of Vengerberg is gorgeous, aloof, and terrifying. This is the natural order.

Geralt is wearing a pensive expression, frowning slightly at where Ciri lies, sleeping peacefully. Dear girl, Jaskier hopes she isn’t having any nightmares. She’s been through hell lately, and she’s always had trouble sleeping anyway. Jaskier wonders if he can find the name of that tea Mousesack used to give her to help her sleep. Jaskier even tried it once or twice, when winter nights in Cintra without his Witcher’s soft, even breaths became too much; the stuff worked wonders.

“Alright,” he says eventually, nodding. “I’ll see if I can go to Redania myself, and leave you two with Ciri until I can get back. We’ll keep our campsites warded if we can, Yen, I don’t want you to wear yourself out, but some protection would probably be best. Are you able to see if you can sense anyone from here, or do you need to go outside the wards?”

“I’ll do a lap around the area, but there’s a chance anyone who is out there will sense me as soon as I start casting about. It would be best if you all stayed here, to protect Ciri in case someone actually has come for her.”

“I don’t like any of us going out alone, Yen, especially with the express intention of seeking out danger. I should go with you.” Geralt makes to stand and grab his swords from beside his seat, but Yennefer waves him back down.

“You’d only distract me, and besides, do you want to leave the totally untrained sorceress and the normal human alone here?” Jaskier makes an affronted squawking noise.

“Hey! I’m plenty competent, thank you!” He prudently ignores the minor inaccuracy of his humanity, and instead huffs at the matching incredulous looks he receives. “Rude. Honestly, I get no respect around here. I survived just fine on my own for years, you know! Besides, I traveled with a reckless idiot Witcher for 20 years, you pick up more than you’d think.” He glares at them both until Yen smirks and Geralt looks baffled and vaguely offended, but at least they both look away, which is an improvement.

Until the two of them end up in a stare off, clearly having some sort of emphatic conversation with their eyes alone, and Jaskier has to turn away to start putting away the cooking supplies they won’t need for breakfast tomorrow. He’s warming up to Yennefer, much to his chagrin, but he’s had quite enough of watching the man he loves eyefuck someone else, for this lifetime and the next, thanks ever so.

He hears Geralt huff, a sound he recognizes as him realizing whoever he’s arguing with is just going to do as they please anyway, and he might as well make the best of it.

He made that sound at Jaskier a lot. Usually when he talked his way into coming along on hunts, but really any time Jaskier wanted something from him beyond some seared rabbit, a fire to sleep beside, and monosyllabic grunts in response to questions (if he was lucky)- a night at an inn, a stop at a local festival, an actual hot bath with herbs and flowers and scented oils. Arms to hold him on especially cold nights, when blankets weren’t enough to warm (mostly) human skin.

Jaskier used to think it was cute. A game, just for the two of them, Jaskier pushing, Geralt pulling, or the other way around, always meeting in the middle (or, more often, closer to Jaskier’s side) with what Jaskier had always assumed was mutual amusement and affection. He knows better now.

There’s the telltale swish of Yennefer’s skirts, a strange popping sensation in his ears, and then the feeling of the wards coming back up behind her.

The silencing spell around Ciri is still up, as far as he knows, and she’s dead to the world besides, so it’s just him and Geralt now.

It isn’t the first time they’ve been alone since Oxenfurt, but it is the first time since Jaskier was invited (by Ciri, it should be noted, not Geralt) to travel with them as a companion, not as backup.

That one still stings, if he’s honest. He held out hope for months that Geralt would come back for him, would seek him out with a stuttered apology (or more likely a silently offered ale and an invitation to come with him to his next hunt).  Maybe at a tavern, or the Seat of Friendship, or even a ball or musical competition where Jaskier was playing. He knows how much Geralt hates getting dressed up, how much it would have meant for him to go to that effort just to see Jaskier.

He imagined seeing him sitting silently in the back of one of his lectures one day, watching the lesson with quiet affection and waiting for him to be finished so they could talk. Imagined hearing the sound of Roach’s hooves coming up behind him on some backroad to nowhere while he strummed his lute in the sunshine.

He imagined a thousand different reunions, a thousand apologies, a thousand ways for them to turn back the clock. (During some of the longer nights, when he was alone in his rooms staring out at the moon through the window, wondering if Geralt was lying on his bedroll in a forest clearing somewhere staring up at the same moon, he imagined a thousand different love confessions. But he has no intention of admitting that to anyone but his own foolish heart. He may be a bard, and a hopeless romantic, but there’s no need to bare all of his weeping wounds, especially when there’s no hope of healing them.)

For all his daydreaming, he never imagined that Geralt would seek him out only when he needed an extra set of hands and all his other options were exhausted. Never imagined he would be not just a tool to be used, but the last resort as well.

He shouldn’t be surprised, after everything, but the knowledge that he was never really anything else to Geralt still aches like a broken rib, flashes of pain shooting through his chest with every inhale.

This is the first time they’ve been alone together without an immediate crisis, without a clearly defined mission beyond the open road, just like it used to be.

Except nothing like it used to be, because how it used to be is gone. It will never be that way again. Geralt burned those memories down, with words as sharp as swords and as destructive as dragon fire.

Jaskier has no fucking idea how to deal with this.

“Jas-“ Geralt cuts off and clears his throat. Jaskier can hear him gulping from his waterskin before trying again. “Jaskier.”

“Yes?” He tries to keep his voice light, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Jaskier, can we. Can we talk? Please?”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it. Geralt so rarely says please. Jaskier may need more than his fingers to count the times he’s heard it directed at him, but he can still remember each one in perfect clarity. Besides, they had more than 20 years together, “more than 10” is still not exactly a stellar ratio.

Jaskier’s resolve breaks (did he ever really have any? Has he ever had any when it comes to this man?) and he turns, schooling his face into something meant to look bright and open. He’s not sure how well it works. “Of course, Geralt. What’s on your mind?”

“I-“ Geralt looks…lost. He looks like he has absolutely no idea how to get where he’s going, and it’s killing him. Jaskier crumbles.

“You’ve already apologized, Geralt, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve forgiven you. You were angry, you needed a target, I was there. It’s behind us.” He looks at the fire, for lack of anything else that isn’t Geralt’s stupid awful gorgeous face, wishing desperately he had his lute. He never felt awkward with his lute. Never rubbed anxious circles around his calluses for lack of anything to do with his hands. Never sat in a silence so painful he wondered if his ears would bleed.

Geralt lets out a breath like he’s trying to remember how. “That’s not. I mean it is. But. I. Fuck.” Jaskier looks up from the fire to see him scrubbing a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. The adorable fool manages to get his hand tangled in the locks when he forgets about the band holding half of it back from his face.

“Oh for Melitele’s sake- stop moving, you lug, I’ll fix it. You’re going to tear it out in chunks if you keep pulling like that, just hold still, or I’ll have to rewrite all the songs to be about The Bald Wolf instead. Ye gods, Geralt, how did you survive without me? Honestly.” He’s across the cave and kneeling behind Geralt on the other side of the fire before he consciously registers the decision to move. Fucking hells, even his own body is against him.

He has his hands in Geralt’s (soft, silky, gorgeous) hair, untangling it gently from where it’s wound itself tightly around his (scarred, strong, beautiful) fingers. He thinks he hears Geralt’s breath catch, but he’s too distracted trying to keep his own lungs working at all to focus on it.

Once Geralt’s hand is free (and does Geralt seem as reluctant to let go and put his hand back in his lap as Jaskier is to let him?) Jaskier sets to work on the much more finicky task of removing the band without pulling half of Geralt’s hair out with it, which would honestly be a crime against…well, anyone with eyes really. Jaskier may be in love with him, but he’s also seen a truly exorbitant number of beautiful people across the continent, many of them naked, so he thinks he’s fairly qualified when he says that Geralt is one of the most singularly stunning people on the face of the earth, bias or not. Especially now that he seems to be taking better care of his hair than he used to when Jaskier wasn’t around.

Jaskier is actually rather shocked at how well-kept Geralt is. His hair is smooth and soft and clean, and smells like…is that apple blossom? That’s one of Jaskier’s favorite scents. It never fails to make him feel light and warm, like spring sunshine. He uses it in his own hair more often than the other oils he carries.

Back when washing Geralt’s hair for him was an occasional but deeply treasured privilege of his, Jaskier used to use it for him, as well. That Geralt has somehow, for some reason, gotten some of his own to use during their separation…it makes something warm and fragile stir in Jaskier’s chest. Warm and fragile and dangerous. Hope is easily crushed, and when it is, it takes everything else down with it. Jaskier isn’t doing that again. Not so soon.

He finishes detaching the tie as efficiently as he can, and hands it over Geralt’s shoulder before sitting back on his heels and exhaling violently.

“There you are darling, all fixed. Now,-“

“I didn’t.” Geralt interrupts him, whisper quiet but still somehow deafening over the crackling fire.

“What?”

“Survive without you. I didn’t. Or, I guess I should say I did, but that’s all I did.”

Jaskier has, for once, absolutely no idea what to say, so he tries something new, and says nothing. He’s barely even sure he’s breathing, staring at the back of Geralt’s head and all his moonlit hair like he’s staring into the jaws of a barghest as he waits to see if he will continue.

He does, words falling out of him in a rush like a river pouring through a broken dam, desperate in a way Jaskier has never heard him before.

“I knew I’d fucked up, on the mountain. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew it. It’s like. It’s like I was a bottle of juice, gone off, going ranker and ranker until the cork flies right out and takes someone’s eye out. I thought I was angry at Borch, at Yen, at Calanthe, at fucking Destiny, at everything. Even you, who hadn’t done one thing wrong. But really it was just me. I was just angry at myself, and there’s. There’s not. There isn’t anywhere for that kind of anger to go. It just builds up and up and up until it explodes, and you with it, and I knew I was going to let it out at someone. And then you were there, and you were trying to help. Like always. You always help. You make everything better, like you were just trying to make me feel better. But I was so angry, and it was all my fault, it was all my stupid selfish choices, the djinn, the wish, Ciri, all of it my fault, and I didn’t deserve to feel better. I didn’t deserve it and I had to make you stop and so. I did. I did it on purpose. I did it because I knew that was the thing to say that would hurt you the most. That would make me a monster like I know I am. Monsters are easy. Easier than mistakes and bad choices. So I made another bad choice and hurt someone else and decided to be a monster.”

There might be tears streaming down Jaskier’s face, but he can’t tell because he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t hear anything but the rushing in his ears and Geralt’s voice ripping into him with savage, gentle claws.

“Once Yen was gone- It’s hard to think with her around, sometimes. It’s the wish, I think. Everything else gets duller, quieter, a little out of focus. Like in a dream when the only thing you can see clearly is the person you know the dream is about, the person you’re supposed to talk to.” Oh this…this is actually torture. Geralt might actually be killing him because he still can’t fucking breathe and he just keeps talking.

“It’s better now. Maybe it’s Ciri, my Destiny is split between them now so it’s not so overwhelming. Or maybe Ciri is her Destiny too, and now that we’ll always have her, the both of us, the wish doesn’t need to force us to be in love for us to stay nearby. I don’t know. It’s easier now, though. And even easier when you’re here.”

Wait, what? Now Jaskier knows he’s dead, or dying, or hallucinating, or something, because there’s no way that means what he wants it to mean.

“After Yen left, my head started to clear. Things came back into focus. I realized what I’d done, but suddenly I could also see that it wasn’t just what I yelled at you. It was so much more, so much deeper. I had been so awful to you, for so long, and you just. Took it. All of it. Everything I had, all my anger and my fear and my loneliness. You just let me. You always came back. You kept choosing me, even when I was cruel. I was ashamed, but I also thought…” He breaks off with a great shuddering breath, his head hanging.

Jaskier feels a little like he’s floating. Like he can see his body, kneeling there in the dirt behind Geralt, staring at his sculpted shoulderblades with a blind, devastated look on his tear-streaked face. How odd.

Geralt, somehow, impossibly, keeps going. This is more words than Jaskier has heard him say in the last two decades. This is more words than he knew Geralt was capable of saying. Where are all these words coming from?

It’s like all this time, he had been saving these. Stockpiling them, though for what Jaskier can’t begin to guess. A rainy day? An emergency? This? And now the doors of the granary have come loose and the winter stores are flooding the yard and Jaskier thinks he might end up buried alive.

“I thought you’d come back.” Geralt’s voice is thicker, somehow, and oh, gods, is he crying? “I thought you would come back, like before, like always, and it would be ok. And I would try to be better. I would try to be the man you thought I was. And it would be ok. But you-“ He cuts off with another great shuddering breath, and seems to center himself. “You didn’t come back. And that’s when I realized I had finally gone too far.”

Jaskier has been trying to process all of these many, many, many, mostly incomprehensible words, and he’s maybe fallen a little bit behind, because he hears himself cut in with an incredulous “Wait, are you saying that every time you were rude or dismissive to me, it wasn’t just because you don’t know how to conduct yourself in a normal friendship because you’ve never had one, but actually because you knew you were being cruel and you knew you could get away with it because I would always come back?”

Geralt’s head hangs even lower, and Jaskier has to strain to hear his gravelly whispered reply.

“Yes. Maybe not consciously, or in so many words, but yes.”

Jaskier flounders for a moment, wounds he spent the last year trying to close tearing back open even wider than before.

“All this time? You thought so little of me, all this time? I was just a- a- a practice dummy? Something that won’t fight back or feel pain, so you can hit it has hard or as many times as you want?” His voice began at a whisper, to match Geralt’s, but has gotten steadily louder and more tear-filled the more he speaks.

“No, that isn’t-“

“I can’t- I’m not- I need a moment. Please, Geralt I need- Please.” He can’t keep sitting this close to him, feeling his body heat just as warm as the fire he’s blocking Jaskier from, can’t keep listening to his low rumbling voice, like thunder and gravel and home, like a silver sword through the midsection. Not when the pain and the anger and the hope are all bleeding together and he doesn’t know how to feel them properly and he still can’t fucking breathe.

Geralt’s breath hitches, a tiny little wisp of sound, and Jaskier is going to fucking lose it.

“Please, Geralt.” It comes out in a broken whisper, which is more revealing than Jaskier was hoping, but it’s not like he’s managed to hide anything anyway, so it hardly matters.

Geralt nods, back still to Jaskier in front of the fire, and stands smoothly to walk over to a corner near the entrance, where he can see all four bedrolls and the cave mouth clearly. Ready to protect. Always ready to defend. He sinks to his knees and his breathing takes on the familiar cadence of meditation.

Jaskier takes a moment to look at him. At the way his hands are clutched a little tighter on his thighs than they normally would be while he mediates, like he hasn’t managed to purge all the fear from his body the way he has his mind. At the new scars he can see on his forearms and one snaking over his collarbone, scars that Jaskier wasn’t there to bandage and fuss over. At the way his hair spills over his shoulders, still tousled from Jaskier’s fingers. At the single tear track carving a path down one marble cheek.

Jaskier sucks in a breath and turns away before he breaks down and Yen comes back to find him catatonic on the ground.

He ends up standing at the mouth of the cave, stroking New Roach’s neck and petting his hands through her glossy mane gently. Her slow breathing and the familiar warm, earthy smell of horse help ground him, bring him back from that awful frantic-floating feeling, where he was nowhere and trapped all at once.

He chatters to her quietly, just like he did to her predecessor. She, at least, warms up to him much more quickly.

A warm, black nose thumps gently into his chest. “Yes, my love, I know I need to protect my heart. I’m trying! Can’t you see how hard I’m trying?” She nickers softly, more of a puff of breath than a proper sound.

“Well aren’t we feeling smug this evening, sweet thing.” Another thump. “It’s alright darling, I don’t blame you. I think I’m ridiculous, too. I just don’t know how to fix it.” He strokes a hand down her forehead, scritching lightly.

“No, me either. You know what the problem is, don’t you?” She lips at his hair, which he takes as an invitation to continue.

His voice is even quieter now, the barest thread of a whisper, quiet enough that even Geralt might not overhear if he comes out of meditation. “The problem is that I’ve spent all this time coming up with plans and strategies and contingencies for not giving my heart away again, when the truth is I don’t think I ever got it back in the first place.”

He rests his forehead against hers in defeat, tears falling silently again. He’s going to dehydrate at this point, but what does he care when he has a beautiful lady providing him such warm, solid comfort right here?

“I have to say, songbird, this is not what I expected to find when I came back tonight.”

Jaskier does not flail. He is a professional performer, he has immaculate control over his body at all times. And he definitely doesn’t squeak, no bard would ever be caught dead making such an undignified noise unintentionally.

So no, he neither flails nor squeaks, and if New Roach gets very slightly spooked and a lot disgruntled, it was from Yennefer sneaking up out of bloody nowhere like a wraith in the night, and certainly nothing Jaskier did. If either of them say different, they’re lying.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is this your plan to kill me and make it look like an accident? I’ll tell Ciri, she’ll come after you with her dagger, see if she doesn’t. Ciri likes me. Ciri would avenge me.” He’s  clutching his chest, heartbeat gradually beginning to slow.

New Roach is still giving him a dubious look. That’s rude, this is hardly his fault. It’s Yen she should be grumpy with.

“Well, I was rather hoping that by this point in the evening, you wouldn’t need a miniature Witcherling-sorceress to defend you, since you’d have your big strong Witcher back, but somehow things seem to have gotten worse in my absence. Did he not manage to tell you his real feelings? Bloody Witchers, trust him to be resistant to my recipe, it’s never bloody failed before, if he’s made this worse somehow I’m going to bloody dissect him to figure out where I went wrong-“ She continues muttering darkly while Jaskier stares at her in shock.

His mind is valiantly trying to shake off enough of the lingering fog of tears to pull some of those threads together and figure out what the fuck she’s talking about.

Recipe? Real feelings? Make what worse? Did she…did she dose him with something? Did she put a fucking spell on his Witcher? He might have to have Ciri stab her after all, since he has no illusions about his own abilities to take her in a fight.

“What the fuck are you talking about, witch? What did you give him? What the fuck did you do? I’ll kill you myself you vicious little shrew, see if I don’t!”

She waves a hand dismissively, scoffing at his threats. Admittedly he is not at his best, though in his defense it’s hard to adopt a proper fighting stance when you’ve just spent half an hour kneeling in the dirt while your still-beating heart was slowly diced into bite-sized pieces. Tough on the knees, you know.

“Please, you should be thanking me. It was fucking exhausting, these last few weeks, watching you two throw longing glances back and forth when you think no one’s looking. I’m just trying to help things along.”

“Help- what? What things? Help things along how?” He’s trying very hard to hold onto his righteous anger at her for (possibly?) drugging the man he loves, but she keeps saying things that dredge up that dangerous warm feeling from before, and he’s losing his resolve.

“Nothing sinister, songbird. I’m done with that, I’m on the side of the White Knights now, remember? Have a little faith in me, for Lilit’s sake.” She rolls her eyes, but either he’s getting better at reading her or she’s making an effort to be easier to read, because he can feel the sincerity in her words. “We both know all that nonsense about Witchers not feeling is horseshit, yes?” He nods. Obviously it is, Geralt feels more deeply than anyone he’s ever met. “But I know you also understand how much he struggles to make sense of what he’s feeling, or to make himself heard when he does.”

She’s right about that, too. Jaskier knows the emotions are there, has always known, since the moment he saw Geralt in that tavern in Posada. But he’s watched Geralt get lost in the tangle of feelings inside him so thoroughly that all the words get stuck and nothing comes out. He’s seen it happen hundreds of times. That’s part of why he’s always wanted to badly to sing about him, to tell the world what Geralt can’t, to be the words when he can’t find them.

Yen gestures to the corner where Geralt is still meditating peacefully. “I didn’t do anything to his feelings. Couldn’t if I tried, that’s not really how my magic works, anyway. But I knew there are things he’s been wanting to say, and he’s been suffering for not knowing how. And as antagonistic as we may be, I don’t actually hate you nearly so much these days, and I find myself discomfited by your very obvious pining, as well.” Well, that’s…actually quite sweet. And rather disquieting, if he’s honest.

“So I gave him something to help him articulate himself. It won’t make him say anything he doesn’t want to, won’t force him to reveal any truths against his will or create any feelings that weren’t already there. It just…smooths the way. Untangles all those knots in his head so something coherent can make it out of his mouth. But you two aren’t cuddled up by the fire making me want to vomit, which means it didn’t fucking work, and I have to figure out why!” She looks rather like she would huff and stomp her foot at this, if the great and powerful Yennefer of Vengerberg would ever stoop to something so childish.

Jaskier thinks very hard about the last hour or so of his life. He thinks about Geralt saying “please,” and he thinks about the way all those words fell out of him and just kept coming and coming and coming, like a pot boiling over, piling up in a heap at Jaskier’s feet. He thinks about Geralt crying.

“Well- uh. Hmm. You know, it occurs to me now- it’s funny really, I think you’ll laugh, definitely laugh, not look at me with that petrifying glare you’ve got on right now, no you’ll be laughing I’m quite sure- Alright, yes, ok! Yes! Right, well, um. I think, looking at recent events, fresh eyes and all that you know- I’m just saying, it would have been helpful to have some of this information going in, is all- Ow! Melitele’s tits, that hurt! Do those nails come standard at Aretuza, or were you just born lucky? Ouch! Ok, ok, stop pinching me, witch! Like I was saying, with the benefit of this new information, I think it’s possible your magical intervention whosit thingy may have worked exactly as expected?”

She narrows her eyes. “If it worked, why are you crying to a horse instead of snuggling with your man?” His man. That can’t be right. Can it? Geralt isn’t his. Except. Except for all the things he sounded like he might be gearing up to say when Jaskier cut him off. Fuck.

“I, uh. I maybe. I maybe stopped him partway through and told him I needed a break?” He winces back as her already truly impressive glare intensifies even further- yep, she’s still got it.

“I did not go to all the effort of brewing that fucking potion, tailoring it for Witcher metabolisms, and making it fucking tasteless and odorless so he would drink it, not to mention standing out here in the fucking woods in the middle of the night with nothing to fucking do, just so you could chicken out halfway through getting everything you ever fucking wanted.” Her eyes are glowing violet now, which is. Wow. Scary. She’s so scary. He remembers now why he always thought she was so so scary. She jabs her finger towards the kneeling figure by the wall. “Get the fuck back in there and finish the damn conversation, bard,” she hisses. “I will not deal with this bullshit all the way to the Redanian border.”

She turns to leave again, and Jaskier shoots out a hand to stop her. She looks at his hand on her elbow and he briefly worries he’s going to end the night as a slug of some kind, but she just looks up at him questioningly.

“I just. Fuck. I know- I know this probably wasn’t easy for you. You know I know better than most what you’re feeling right now. But you’re helping anyway, so. Thank you, Yennefer. Even if it doesn’t go like you think, like I hope, you were willing to try even though it hurts, so thank you.” He isn’t sure what his face is doing, but he hopes she can see how genuinely grateful he is.

She smiles a little sadly. “Come on, songbird, We both know he was never really mine. And besides, I’m not the settling down type. Now go, don’t make me curse you.” She shoots him what would be a very passable glare if it weren’t for the slight glimmer of tears in her eyes, then spins on her heel and stalks off into the night.

He turns back to the cave, hesitating for a single moment before there’s an irritated huff, a nip to the sleeve of his jacket, and a frankly unnecessarily forceful shove to his back. He glares back at Roach, who seems unperturbed. “I’ve got entirely too many black-haired gorgeous women trying to run my life right now, do you hear me? Too many!” Roach huffs again. “Fine. I’m going, are you happy?” He takes another step and looks over his shoulder. She looks smug. Of course she does. “I think you’re just the old Roach reincarnated. Never seen another horse look so damn satisfied with herself,” he mutters, but he’s already heading back into the cave, so he figures she’s won this round.

He feels slightly guilty about grabbing Geralt’s waterskin before going to him, but he isn’t sure how long Yen’s potion lasts, or if meditating will have burned more of it off. Maybe it’s disingenuous to give him more without telling him what’s in it, but, weirdly, he trusts Yen when she says it won’t force Geralt to do or say anything he doesn’t want to, and Jaskier isn’t sure he’ll ever get to hear the words otherwise. He’ll tell him afterwards. He won’t keep this secret forever.

He sits down quietly next to Geralt, leaning up against the wall of the cave. He takes one deep breath, then another, and another. He rests his fingers gently on Geralt’s hand where it sits on his thigh. Geralt’s breathing gradually picks up until he’s back to almost his normal, slow rhythm. His eyes open, landing on Jaskier’s hand on his and following the line of his arm back up to his face.

Jaskier hands him the waterskin, and Geralt takes it with a nod of gratitude before taking a long drink. “I’m alright now,” Jaskier says. “I’m sorry I stopped you.

Geralt searches his face, eyes searching Jaskier’s for signs of dishonesty. Apparently finding none, he nods slightly, golden eyes closing again for a moment. When they open, he’s not looking at Jaskier any longer.

Jaskier looks at his hand, fingertips still resting ever so lightly on Geralt’s palm, and considers taking it back. He thinks about what Geralt has told him so far tonight, about the conviction in Yen’s voice when she insisted Geralt had feelings for him. Fuck it, he decides, and lays his hand more firmly in Geralt’s, lacing their fingers together. Geralt draws in a sharp breath and looks up at him in shock, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he grips Jaskier’s hand tighter, like he’s worried Jaskier is going to try to run.

“I know you,” Jaskier says slowly. “I’ve known you for more than half my life, and I know that you aren’t cruel, or callous, or unkind. I know that there is always a reason behind the things you say, and the things you do, even if no one else can see it.” He swallows hard, closing his eyes briefly. Geralt squeezes his hand lightly, which…helps, actually. It helps a lot. “I’m sorry I accused you of hurting me on purpose, for the sake of causing me pain. I was overwhelmed and having trouble processing things, but I shouldn’t have jumped to a conclusion I know wasn’t true. If you still want to talk, I’m ready to listen now.”

“It wasn’t an illogical conclusion to draw. And it wasn’t even completely wrong.” His voice is calmer than before, measured and even. Not as frantic. The river is still flowing free, but it’s calmed, no longer the violent rush of a broken dam. He sighs, a great, world-weary thing. “It was because you’re safe.” Jaskier looks at him quizzically.

Geralt draws in another deep breath before continuing. “I can’t ever show emotion. Not to humans. Not anger, or fear, or sometimes even joy. The myths about Witchers not having feelings…they aren’t just vicious rumors made up by bigots. They’re there to protect us. From them.”

Jaskier frowns. “You mean Witchers put that rumor out yourselves? But why?” Surely demonstrating how human Witchers really are can only help matters, right?

“In a way.” Geralt tilts his head in the way Jaskier knows means he’s remembering something long past. “It’s part of how we’re trained. We’re taught to suppress emotion, to hide it from everyone, including ourselves. It’s how we’ve done things for 400 years.” His thumb sweeps little arcs across the back of Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier’s heart trips in his chest. He knows Geralt can probably hear it, but it must not worry him and he keeps talking.

“The first Witchers were experiments. Men twisted by mages hoping to combat the monsters that plagued the world. The process has been…refined, since then. At first, they really were- well. More monster than man.” Geralt tips his head back against the rock wall. “Humans were terrified of them. One and all, right down to their bones. The first Witchers didn’t take contracts, because no humans would even speak with them. They just wandered around until they found a monster to kill, and then moved on to the next. Eventually, people started to realize that Witchers were only killing monsters, and leaving humans be, so they slowly started reaching out for help.”

“Ungrateful sods, the lot of them,” Jaskier mutters, and hears Geralt’s quiet huff of laughter in response.

“You’re. You’re so special, do you know that?” Jaskier jerks his head up in surprise to see Geralt’s eyes on his face, liquid gold lit like sunrise by the light of the fire, a tiny smile playing around his lips. “You’ve never been afraid of me. Not once. Not even when the only things you knew about me were that I scowled a lot and I had two very scary swords.” Jaskier flushes at the reminder of the babble that spilled out of his mouth the moment he laid eyes on the single most attractive person he had ever seen in his 18 years of life.

He drops his eyes, knowing there’s no hiding the blush on his cheeks but ignoring it as hard as he can anyway. “What’s there to be scared of? You’re a puppy, not a wolf.” He expects a grumble, or a glare, or for Geralt to ignore him completely. Certainly not the bark of laughter that would have woken Ciri were it not for Yen’s charm. He stares at Geralt’s face, firelight flickering over pale skin, honest joy written in the curve of his mouth, and grins back helplessly.

“You’re the only one who’s ever thought that. Except maybe Eskel.” He laughs again, more quietly this time, then sobers slightly. “Humans are afraid of us. They always have been. Less now, since you,” he squeezes Jaskier’s hand again and Jaskier flushes even darker, “but the first Witchers were barely more than feral, and that impression…stuck. Humanity never got past it. Even when new generations of Witchers were made, when we became something closer to men than to monsters, their fear never went away. Any emotion, even the faintest irritation, was enough to make most humans think a Witcher was about to go berserk, to start tearing out the throats of anyone who got too close. So, we learned to shut them down.”

His eyes are downcast now, and Jaskier thinks of a tiny Geralt, just a boy, younger than Ciri, excited about the world, curious and clever and mischievous, thinks about him learning to hide his heart away until even he couldn’t find it anymore, and he wants to scream. He wants to cry, he wants to rage, he wants to find every human who ever judged a Witcher by his eyes and not his deeds and mount their heads on spikes. He wants to tear out their hearts and make them watch as he throws them on the pyre, burning them out like so many boys were made to burn out their own.

Geralt can smell his turmoil, he knows, and he clings to the comfort offered when he holds Jaskier’s hand as tightly as he can without hurting him, still tracing circles into his skin with his thumb.

“It isn’t safe, to have feelings. Humans may spit on a mutant with a heart of stone, but they’ll hunt and kill a monster with teeth they think will harm them. It’s safer to be cold, to be hard. To let all of it roll off of us like snow off a mountain. And after a while, you forget how to be anything else. You forget that it’s a lie, that it’s something you had to learn. You start to believe it too.” There are tears dripping off of Jaskier’s nose now, but he doesn’t dare interrupt again. “I had forgotten, until you.”

He looks at Jaskier with such naked feeling in his fiery eyes that Jaskier can’t fathom how anyone could believe this man has no heart. “You made me feel. You walked into my life and just-“ He huffs another low laugh, the faraway look on his face impossibly fond. “You just didn’t listen to a fucking thing I said. Ever! Not once! And it drove me up the godsdamned wall. I was going out of my mind, I was so fucking annoyed. You never stopped talking, or singing, or playing that damn lute, you never stayed out of the way on hunts like I told you to, you ignored me whenever I said I didn’t have feelings or I didn’t need anyone or we weren’t friends. And you wouldn’t leave! You just kept coming back, no matter how much of an arse I was, even when I acted in ways that would have made other humans shit themselves, or come after me with torches and pitchforks, or both. You just kept coming back, and you kept not believing me when I told you I was a monster, and you never smelled fucking afraid, and after a while I realized that irritated wasn’t the only thing you made me feel anymore.”

He seems to withdraw into himself a little, his shoulders hunching and his head hanging slightly. He tries to withdraw his hand, but Jaskier isn’t sure he can get through this conversation without it, so he hopes Geralt will forgive him for pushing yet more boundaries and simply holds onto him tighter.

Geralt sighs again, but stops pulling away. “But there’s still so much shit in the world. There are so many humans who hate me, or fear me, or try to cheat me, or who end up being monsters worse than the ones they want me to kill, and the problem with having it smacked over my head that I do actually have feelings, is that it makes it so much harder to ignore them. And there’s so much anger in me, Jaskier, and grief, and loneliness. And I can’t ever show it to anyone, or it will confirm everything they think they know about me. It will make me a monster. It will make me the Butcher all over again.” He looks up again, his expression anguished. “You’re the only one who’s safe. You’re the only one I can be angry around, or sad, or scared, or just annoyed, without thinking the worst of me. You’re the only one who ever comes back.”

Jaskier is back to feeling like his heart is being fed through a sieve, but he thinks he understands what Geralt is trying to say this time. He feels a renewed rush of guilt for assuming the worst of him before. Is he any better than the rest, jumping to the foulest possible conclusion while Geralt wrestles with his tongue to try and make him understand? He turns his head away, closing his eyes against the tears and trying to breathe through the shame.

Fingers grip his chin gently and coax his head back until he’s looking into Geralt’s slitted eyes again. The look on his face is so soft, so open, that Jaskier feels like his ribs are being pried apart at the sight of it. “You have no idea how much of a blessing you have actually been in my life, Jaskier,” and those words just crack his chest wide open and bare his heart to the whole room, don’t they? “I took advantage of you. I wanted so badly to have someone in my life I could show all the darkest parts of myself to, without them running away, that I forgot to show you the rest. And I forgot to help carry your darkness in return. I left you with such a burden, Jaskier, and you never once complained or asked me to help. You have done nothing but give, for as long as I’ve known you, and I wish I could show you how sorry I am that I was content for so long just to take.” Jaskier is pretty sure he’s openly sobbing now, but Geralt is sliding his hand up from his chin to cup his cheek, sweeping the tears away with his thumb, so it’s probably ok.

“Let me make it up to you, Jaskier. Let me be the one to give to you for once. Let me carry your burdens for a while. Let me give you a reason to forgive me. A reason to come back.” His eyes are pools of molten gold, wide and dark and shining with- emotion. An emotion. Jaskier isn’t going to hazard a guess at which emotion, because he isn’t sure he can handle the answer.

“I’ve already forgiven you, you great lummox. For all of it. A safe place is all I ever wanted to be for you. I only ever wanted to give you a home. Like you gave me. Just- just share it with me next time, please? The anger, or the fear? Share it with me first, instead of letting it fester and burn us both. That’s all I need from you.”

Geralt’s hand on his cheek guides him forward until their faces are inches from each other, foreheads resting together. Jaskier’s eyes want to close but he can’t bear to look away, too afraid this is all an impossible dream that will disappear as soon as he opens them again. He can see the way the firelight glimmers off his silver hair, the scars through his eyebrow, the tears clinging to his eyelashes as they sweep gently over his cheeks. He’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever deserved you, but I would do anything for the chance to try to be someone who does. I’m yours, Jaskier. You need only say you’ll have me.”

Jaskier is a man of words. He’s a bard, words are his trade, his weapons, the blood in his veins. No matter what else is happening around him, no matter what he has or what he’s lost or what needs to be done, there are always words ready to spring forth from him like water from a spigot. He has never, in all his life, been out of words.

Until now.

Fuck it.

Geralt’s lips are softer than he imagined, given that his skincare routine seems to consist primarily of monster innards. But they’re soft and they’re warm and they move so gently against Jaskier’s that he thinks he might simply melt into a puddle, to be absorbed into the earth and never seen again. The kiss is tender, and sweet, and longing, and not at all how he imagined his first kiss with Geralt would be. It’s perfect. Jaskier breaks it with a watery laugh, keeping his forehead pressed to Geralt’s.

Somehow his free hand has found its way back into Geralt’s silky hair, and he threads his fingers deeper into the moonlit locks and hopes he’ll never have to let go.

“You’re mine?” He knows he sounds a little pleading, disbelief coloring his tone, but he can’t help it. He’s had this dream so many times, he needs to be sure it’s real this time. “Really?”

“Really, little lark.” Geralt is smiling just as wide as Jaskier is, his cheeks just as damp. “I’ve always been yours, I was just too stupid to admit it. I won’t make that mistake again. I love you. I’ll never leave you behind again, not for the rest of your life, if you’ll let me.”

And, oh, there’s a conversation they should maybe have, because after all the revelations of tonight, Jaskier is fairly sure Geralt thinks he’s completely human, and is probably in pain over his supposed mortality. At some point before they go to sleep Jaskier will mention it, because apparently Geralt hasn’t noticed that his face hasn’t changed a lick in 25 years, the stubble he wears these days notwithstanding.

Because Geralt is a ridiculous, incredible, oblivious, stupid, wonderful fool, and Jaskier loves him so much he can hardly breathe. So he tells him so. The rest can wait.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Never Try, Never Know

Pairing: Peter Parker enemies to lovers

Synopsis: Flash pesters you about your sex life

Read the series or read on its own

Masterlist

A month later, you were in Peter’s room once again. Doing your homework together had once again become a make out session.

You were underneath Peter with your hands up in his hair. Your skirt was hiked up around your waist and his jeans were brushing against you every time he moved. His hand was resting just below your boob, pressing firmly on your rib cage. As you kissed him, you slowly moved his hand up and kept yours on top of his. You squeezed your hand, prompting him to squeeze your boob. You could feel him smile into the kiss as he gained more confidence. He slipped his hand under your shirt and brushed his thumb over your bra. You moaned into his mouth, hoping he would keep going. You could feel his boner against your thigh and you were dying for him to take the next step already.

“Can I take my shirt off? You whispered against his lips. He nodded eagerly in response. You pulled away from Peter for a moment to pull your shirt off and tossed it to the floor. His cheeks tinted pink since this was the first time you’d done this. He shyly looked at you and gulped so you gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay.” You told him. “You can touch me.”

Peter hesitated before putting his hand back on your boob. He bent down to kiss you again and slowly trailed kisses down your neck. You were combing your fingers through his hair as he kissed the tops of your breasts, thinking you were finally about to go all the way with him. Before you had a chance to do anything else, Peter pulled away and groaned.

“Oh my God.” He gulped and sat up.

“Are you okay?” You sat up as well to check on him.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

You slumped back on the bed as Peter climbed off and went to the bathroom. Once you heard his shower turn on, you let out an angry huff. You squeezed your legs together in frustration before slipping your shirt back on.

That was how it always went. You’d get close but never go all the way. You knew Peter was a virgin, but you were starting to think he wanted to stay that way. You didn’t want to push Peter before he was ready, but your sexual frustration was getting to be more than you could handle. If you waited any longer, you thought you might explode.

“I’m back.” Peter announced, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Sorry about that. I get overstimulated very easily. All my nerve endings are extra sensitive.”

“It’s fine.” You faked a smile as he sat next to you. “But you know, you don’t have to calm yourself down every time. You could run with it.”

“Run with it?” Peter asked. “You mean, you want me to…”

“Fuck me. Yeah.” You nodded. “Just a suggestion.”

Peter’s face blushed all the way down to his neck at your bluntness. He shyly laughed and put his lap top on his lap.

“You’re crazy.” He chuckled. “What do you want to watch?”

“I’m fine with anything.” You faked a smile and rested your head on his shoulder. You didn’t want him to know you were disappointed. If he wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready. The only problem was, you were a little more then ready. You were two close calls away from begging him to fuck you, and you could only hope it wouldn’t resort to that.

~

You were in a bad mood the next day at school. All you could think about was how badly you wanted to get off. It felt like Peter was dangling himself in front of you but never letting you have him. To make a bad day worse, Flash spotted you at your locker and decided to pester you.

“Hey, pretty lady.” He smiled as he flicked some of your hair off your shoulder. “What are you doing tonight? Wanna get Flash-y on a Friday?”

“Fuck off.” You groaned. “I have a boyfriend.”

“There is no way you and Parker are actually together.” Flash scoffed when you rejected him. “This has got to be some weird hate sex thing.”

You froze when he mentioned sex since it was currently a sensitive topic for you.

“It’s not.” You said quickly. “Peter is my boyfriend, and you make me drier than sandpaper. Buh bye.”

You pushed him away from you and kept walking, but he followed.

“Who do you guys think you’re fooling? Everyone knows you guys hate each other.” Flash insisted.

“We used too.” You shrugged. “Now we love each other.”

“Are you sure you’re not just hooking up to get your frustration out and thinking it’s a relationship?”

You sucked in a sharp breath when he mentioned it again, growing frustrated now.

“I’m positive.” You grumbled.

“Why?”

“Because we haven’t even…” You trailed off when you realized you said too much. But it was too late. Flash’s jaw dropped as he bounced up and down.

“You guys haven’t had sex yet?” He asked. “How? You’ve been together like two months.”

“Can you keep your voice down please?” You hissed. “It’s none of your business. And it’s normal for couples to wait.”

“You know what?” Flash snickered. “I’m not even surprised that you guys haven’t done it yet. He’s not man enough to try anything.”

“Yes he is.” You said. “Shut up Flash.”

“Are you sure about that?” Flash taunted.

“Yes.” You snapped as your confidence slowly faded. “I’m sure. Now leave me alone.”

“I kinda feel sorry for you.” He continued. “You’re dating the man who played the girl part in last years musical. It’s probably the only girl part he’s ever seen.”

“Shut up.” You repeated. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? Because I’m willing to bet Peter doesn’t have a single clue what to do in bed. He’d be like, “orgasm? You mean organism? It’s an animal, plant, or single celled life form”, or something.” Flash mimicked his voice. “He’s probably awful. He’ll never be able to please you.”

“Yes he can.” You said quietly, but you weren’t sure. You hated to admit it, but you were starting to think Flash might be right.

“How would you know?” Flash taunted. That pushed you to your edge. You knew if you didn’t say something now, Flash would tell the whole school and humiliate Peter.

“Because I was kidding. We have had sex.” You lied. “He sexed me like, a hundred times. Including last night.”

“Really?” Flash narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah. He nearly broke my pelvis.” You continued. “That’s why I’m in leggings today. I’m really sore.”

“Peter Parker left you sore?” Flash snorted. “What’d he do? Forgot you were there and sit on you?”

“No. He fucked me.” You said confidently this time. “Really, really well.”

“Nope. I don’t believe you.” Flash shook his head. “There is no way Little orphan Annie is having sex. Not a chance.”

“Well, he is.” You shrugged. “And he’s got a huge dick. Like, the size of a salt shaker.”

“Salt shakers are like two inches.” Flash scoffed.

“Not the kind you have at home.” You rolled your eyes. “Like, the really big ones at Italian restaurants. That size.”

“For real?” Flash’s eyes widened.

“Yeah.” You began to lose confidence in your lying ability. “Real, um, real monster cock on that boy. He’s uh, he’s a mouthful.”

“You mean handful?” Flash asked.

“I said what I said.”

“No way.” Flash gasped.

“Uh huh. He’s the best I ever had.” You egged it on. “By a long shot, too. He really knows what he’s doing.”

“You’re telling me Peter Parker is some kind of sex god?” Flash raised an eyebrow.

“Yep.” You replied. “In fact, I’m going to his apartment later for more. I just can’t get enough. You’d understand if you were getting it this good.”

“Who would have thought.” Flash shook his head. “I certainly didn’t see this coming.”

“Well, speaking of coming, I better go. Peter’s expecting me.” You smiled tightly and walked away from Flash. You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment as you left him, unsure of how much damage you had just done.

~

Flash spotted Peter at the lockers the next day and thought of your conversation from the day before. Always looking for trouble, he walked up to Peter and leaned against his locker.

“Hey, Penis Parker.” Flash said with a grin.

“Go away Flash.” Peter groaned.

“Woah.” Flash held up his hands. “That’s no way to talk to someone who knows your dirty little secret.”

Peter stiffened when he heard this and gave his full attention to Flash.

“What?”

“Yup.” He nodded. “I was just talking to Y/n and she told me all about your double life.”

“She what?” Peter asked as he began to panic.

“Yeah. I can’t believe you were able to keep it hidden this long. I’m almost impressed.” Flash said as he folded his arms. Peter grabbed him by the shirt and pressed him up against the lockers as Flash gasped.

“Woah, woah, woah. Take me to dinner first, jeez.” Flash said as Peter loosened his grip.

“What do you know?” Peter said through gritted teeth.

“Not much. Just that you’re not the man I thought you were.” Flash winked.

“What?” Peter flushed with rage.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Flash said before blowing him a kiss. “Bye!”

Peter watched him leave as a nervous anger settled in his stomach. He didn’t know Flash was talking about something entirely different. He assumed you told him about his Spider-Man secret and he was furious with you.

After school, Peter walked to your apartment and used his spare key. He found you in your room and wasted no time in letting you have it.

“What did you tell Flash?” Peter demanded as he slammed the door behind him. You were someone who hated being yelled at, so you were immediately annoyed with Peter’s behavior.

“Woah.” You scoffed. “Nice to see you too.”

“Why did Flash tell me I wasn’t he man he thought I was?” Peter continued. “Did you tell him I was Spiderman?”

“Excuse me?” You stood up angrily. “You can’t just barge in here, yelling at me and accusing me of exposing your secret.”

“I can when you told the worst person we know something I trusted you with.” Peter snapped. “Did you seriously tell him I was Spiderman?”

“Yes, Peter. I told Flash your biggest secret.” You said sarcastically. “I went straight up to him and said, “hey, want to hear some information my boyfriend specifically trusted me to keep?” Then I made rode off in his porch and we made love under the stars. Oh, and we’re writing a cookbook together. It’s called “I Didn’t tell Flash Your Fucking Secret”. You can preorder now.”

“Real funny.” Peter seethed. “If you didn’t tell him, then why did he say you told him my secret? Why was he impressed that I had hidden it for so long?”

“Because I told him…” Your shouting trailed off when you realized what you told Flash was much worse.

“Told him what?” Peter asked angrily.

“Nothing. I didn’t tell him anything. Just calm down.” You rolled your eyes and flopped back on the bed.

“I am calm.” He yelled. “You have to tell me what you said to him.”

“No I don’t.” You said simply. “I have the right to remain silent. I don’t have to tell you shit.”

“If you didn’t tell him I was Spiderman then what could you have possibly told him?” Peter whined as he sat next to you. He was smart enough to know yelling at you would just make you more defensive.

“I don’t want to tell you.” You said quietly.

“Why?”

“It’s embarrassing.” You whined as you covered your face.

“So is your outfit.” Peter shrugged. You uncovered your face to narrow your eyes at him.

“Fucker.” You grumbled.

“Just tell me.” Peter groaned. “Or I’ll shit the bed next time we cuddle.”

“I need you to take a step back from this conversation and think about what you just said to me.” You said seriously.

“I’ll do it.” He threatened.

“Fine. I told him you were…” You mumbled the end of the sentence so even with his super hearing, he couldn’t hear you.

“What?”

“I told him you were really good at sex.” You reluctantly confessed. “I told him all the dirty little secrets of our sex life and that’s what he was talking about when he came up to you. I didn’t tell him anything about spiderman. I cannot believe you think I’d do that to you.”

“You…wait, what?” Peter stuttered as his face went bright red. “What?!”

“Don’t make me repeat it.” You pleaded.

“How did you tell him about our sex life if we never...” Peter’s sentence tapered off like it usually did when it came to talking about something real.

“Fucked?” You raised an unamused eyebrow. If he couldn’t even say the word, you wondered how he’d ever do the action.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “That.”

“I don’t know. I made stuff up.” You shrugged. “I told him we had sex all the time and that you were super good at it. And that, you know, you have a monster cock.” You mumbled the last part out of embarrassment.

“A what?” Peter sputtered. “A fucking what?”

“I was hyping you up.” You defended yourself. “And it’s not like I can’t feel it when we spoon.”

Peter flushed again and rubbed his face.

“Why were you telling him any of this?” He asked wearily.

“Because.” You mumbled, not wanting to tell Peter why the topic ever came up.

“Because why?” He pressed.

“Because he was saying you’d never be able to please me and you were too inexperienced to try anything so I put him in his place.” You explained. “I’m the only one who can make fun of you like that. Not him.”

Peter looked at you with sad eyes as the weight of your words hit him.

“Is that what you think?” He worried. “That I couldn’t please you?”

“What? No, Pete.” You shook your head. “I don’t think that. That’s just what Flash was saying. You know how he is.”

“But he’s right.” Peter gulped. “I am inexperienced. You were my first kiss. I’d have no idea how to...you know.”

“That’s okay.” You assured him. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

That didn’t sit well with Peter. Instead of cheering him up, it made him feel worse.

“Have you had sex before?” He asked quietly. You blinked a few times, knowing your answer would only make the situation worse.

“Yeah.” You nodded stiffly. “I have.”

“Shit.” Peter whispered as he looked down. You noticed he was clenching and unclenching his fist, something he did when he was anxious.

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You got off the bed and put your hands on his face. “I didn’t mean to make you feel insecure. We can just drop this. It doesn’t matter.”

“You feel the same way, don’t you?” Peter frowned with glassy eyes. “You agree with what Flash said so you overcompensated on my behalf. That’s why you told him all those things.”

“Pete, I don’t give a fuck what Flash says.” You told him. “I never have. I was just trying to shut him up.”

“You just told me you don’t expect anything from me.” He said as he moved away from you. “You don’t think I could please you, do you? You think I’m too innocent and inexperienced.”

“Well, you are innocent and inexperienced.” You said calmly. “But that’s not a bad thing. We love each other, okay? And when we’re ready to take the next step, we will.”

Peter sucked in a sharp breath and bit his bottom lip, telling you he was fighting back tears. You put one hand on his shoulder and one on his face in an attempt to comfort him.

“Hey.” You said soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

“First you tell me you wanted to sleep with Bucky, and now I find out you’re telling Flash about our ridiculous make believe sex life because you were too embarrassed to tell him we don’t have one.” Peter said sadly.

“What do those two things have to do with the other?”

“I can’t compete!” Peter exclaimed. “Flash is probably right. I probably can’t please you. I’m just…I’m just a virgin who can’t drive.”

“It’s okay.” You chuckled. “I knew both of those things before I started dating you.”

You only made the situation worse by saying this. The confidence had been knocked right out of Peter and it showed. He was visible shaken over the conversation and you wished it never started.

“Pete.” You sighed. “You don’t have to get upset about this. It’s just a stupid thing Flash said.”

“A stupid thing Flash said that you’re worried is true.” Peter stated. You opened your mouth but quickly shut it when you realized he was right. As much as you hated to admit it, Flash had gotten in your head.

“I’m not worried.” You said weakly.

“I can smell when you’re lying.” Peter said as he glared at you.

“That’s not fair.” You groaned. “Don’t sniff out my emotions.”

“It’s not just your emotions. It’s what you’re saying.” Peter protested. “You were too ashamed to tell him we haven’t had sex yet, weren’t you? And now you think what he said was right.”

“I’m not ashamed. But, I mean, it’s not like you ever try anything.” You shrugged. “We make out and then you take a cold shower and put on a movie. I’m not trying to push you before you’re ready, but Jesus Peter. You can’t even say the word “fuck”. You could barely say “horny” a month ago. They’re just words. You don’t have to be scared of them.”

“I’m not scared. I was trying to be a gentleman. But apparently, that’s not good enough for you.” He shot back.

“Are you mad at me? Is this a fight?” You honestly wondered. You didn’t expect him to react the way he was and it was throwing you off. You’d gotten into plenty of arguments before, but never like this. You were a couple now and the stakes were much higher.

“I don’t know how I feel right now. I know this conversation made me feel really bad, though.” He answered. Your eyes softened for a moment before your anger returned.

“What’s your problem? You should be thanking me.” You insisted. “Flash is probably telling the whole school how great you are in bed. Why are you so upset?”

“I’m upset because my girlfriend thinks I can’t fuck her.” Peter gravely as he stared you in the eyes. You uncrossed your arms and blinked a few times, surprised that he finally said it.

“Yeah.” He stated as he got ready to leave. “I can say the word.”

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[hermiones-amortentia]

This is for people who think Ron and Hermione had no intellectual debates or Ron can't stimulate her intellectually. Here their intellectual debates in the books-

1. House elves

“They’re hats for house-elves,” she said briskly, now stuffing her books back into her bag. “I did them over the summer. I’m a really slow knitter without magic, but now I’m back at school I should be able to make lots more.”

“You’re leaving out hats for the house-elves?” said Ron slowly. “And you’re covering them up with rubbish first?”

“Yes,” said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag onto her back.

“That’s not on,” said Ron angrily. “You’re trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You’re setting them free when they might not want to be free.”

Ron is the only one that confronts Hermione about SPEW and really engages into it (So that its clear: Hermione defends that the elves should be free at all costs, Ron says they should be aware and included in this choice = two points of view, both defended = intellectual debate)

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2. Discussing the ministry

“It could be a frame-up!” Ron exclaimed excitedly. “No — listen!”

he went on, dropping his voice dramatically at the threatening look on Hermione’s face. “The Ministry suspects he’s one of Dumbledore’s lot so — I dunno — they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn’t trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they’ve just made something up to get him!”

There was a pause while Harry and Hermione considered this.

Harry thought it seemed far-fetched; Hermione, on the other hand, looked rather impressed and said, “Do you know, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that were true.”

Ron =shows how it could have been a frame-up and presents evidence; Hermione =considers his side and changes her mind; they were discussing something and reached an agreement over facts = intellectual

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3. In the creation of the DA, we see Harry behaving quite emotionally (understandable but this does not qualify, using your definition, as intellectual). Ron and Hermione make their case for why he should be the teacher and basically organize the entire thing themselves

“Let’s think,” he said, pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. “Uh . . .

first year — you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who.”

‘ “But that was luck,” said Harry, “that wasn’t skil —”

“Second year,” Ron interrupted, “you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle.”

“Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn’t turned up I —”

“Third year,” said Ron, louder still, “you fought off about a hundred dementors at once —”

“Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We’ve told them to meet us in Hogsmeade”

Hermione and Ron recruited and organized everything for the DA

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4. Discussing Dumbledore and Snape

“I did think he might be a bit better this year,” said Hermione in a disappointed voice. “I mean . . . you know . . .” She looked carefully around; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table. “. . . Now he’s in the Order and everything.”

“Poisonous toadstools don’t change their spots,” said Ron sagely.”

“Anyway, I’ve always thought Dumbledore was cracked trusting Snape, where’s the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?”

“I think Dumbledore’s probably got plenty of evidence”

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5. Sirius death

They stayed together in the Hospital Wing for weeks and it can be correctly inferred that this was discussed given their behavior towards Harry

“Ron and Hermione left the hospital wing completely cured three days before the end of term. Hermione showed signs of wanting to talk about Sirius, but Ron tended to make hushing noises every time she mentioned his name”

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6. Mad-Eye’s death and the 7 Potters mission

“Oh, Ron’s mum forgot that she asked Ginny and me to change the sheets yesterday,” said Hermione. She threw Numerology and Grammatica onto one pile and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts onto the other.

“We were just talking about Mad-Eye,” Ron told Harry.

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7. Hermione’s parents and the Ghoul (they planned and prepared for the mission together)

“Didn’t realize that Ron and I know perfectly well what might happen if we come with you? Well, we do. Ron, show Harry what you’ve done.”

“Nah, he’s just eaten,” said Ron.

“Go on, he needs to know!”

“Oh, all right. Harry, come here.”

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8. How to destroy Horcruxes

“Hang on,” said Ron, frowning. “The bit of soul in that diary was possessing Ginny, wasn’t it? How does that work, then?”

“While the magical container is still intact, the bit of soul inside it can flit in and out of someone if they get too close to the object. I don’t mean holding it for too long, it’s nothing to do with touching it,” she added before Ron could speak. “I mean close emotionally. Ginny poured her heart out into that diary, she made herself incredibly vulnerable. You’re in trouble if you get too fond of or dependent on the Horcrux.”

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9. Hallows x Horcruxes

“Well, I don’t suppose it matters,” sighed Hermione. “Even if he was being honest, I never heard such a lot of nonsense in all my life.”

“Hang on, though,” said Ron. “The Chamber of Secrets was supposed to be a myth, wasn’t it?”

“But the Deathly Hallows can’t exist, Ron!”

“You keep saying that, but one of them can,” said Ron. “Harry’s Invisibility Cloak —”

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10. Formulating a plan to keep Hermione safe

“Ron glanced at Hermione, then said, “What if purebloods and half-bloods swear a Muggle-born’s part of their family? I’ll tell everyone Hermione’s my cousin —”

Hermione covered Ron’s hand with hers and squeezed it.

“Thank you, Ron, but I couldn’t let you —”

“You won’t have a choice,” said Ron fiercely, gripping her hand back. “I’ll teach you my family tree so you can answer questions on it.

Hermione gave a shaky laugh.

“Ron, as we’re on the run with Harry Potter, the most wanted person in the country, I don’t think it matters. If I was going back to school it would be different. What’s Voldemort planning for Hogwarts?” she asked Lupin.”

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11. Off page discussion

“What’s happened?” Ron asked apprehensively. He and Hermione had been poring over a sheaf of scribbled notes and hand-drawn maps that littered the end of the long kitchen table, but now they watched Harry as he strode toward them and threw down the newspaper on top of their scattered parchment.”

12. Off page (2)

“You can’t tell me you’ve stopped having funny dreams,” Hermione said now, “because Ron told me last night you were muttering in your sleep again. . . .”

Harry threw Ron a furious look. Ron had the grace to look ashamed of himself.

“You were only muttering a bit,” he mumbled apologetically.”

Yet another evidence of their connection and off-page discussions

“Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke, but Harry felt sure that they were looking at each other behind his back, communicating silently.”

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Ron and Hermione have emotional AND intellectual discussions throughout the series. So if you think Ron can't stimulate her intellectually you havent read the books. 😊

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Magic is legal, Arthur knows The Truth and Merlin is... shit at explaining things:

Arthur demands a trip to visit the Druids, who are far more qualified than Merlin, so they can explain this whole... destiny thing.

I’ve written a lot of angst and Hurt!Merlin recently, so I just wanted to write something short and sweet and fluffy :)

SO.

Magic has been legalised, Merlin is Court Sorcerer, all the knights are alive and happy, Morgana is good, and the only thing Arthur has to worry about right now is what the hell to do about the rapidly growing crush he has on his BestFriend™.

After the dust had settled, Merlin had tried to sit Arthur down and tell him the whole story; all about Emrys, and the prophecies, and destiny. The King already knew about Merlin’s magic, and roughly how powerful he is, but that’s it.

But Merlin went so long barely mentioning it at all, not even to Gaius or Morgana or Lancelot, that he’s still not entirely sure what to say. Years of hiding and lying and trying desperately not to think about it, mean his brain now blanks when he tries to explain it.

After far too long of Arthur looking on confusedly whilst Merlin rambled on about dragons and coins and mental links and names, The Court Sorcerer gave up, and decided to just not bother.

Arthur, of course, decided that giving up was stupid, and made the executive decision that they would just go to the Druids, and someone who actual knew what they were talking about could explain it thoroughly. Maybe even allow Arthur to read the original prophecies.

Plus, it turned out that Initiating a Golden Age took quite a lot of work, so neither of them had had a chance to leave the city for weeks. They could do with the fresh air. And if Arthur saw it as a good chance to be properly alone with Merlin for more than half a candle mark? No one else needed to know, least of all Merlin.

~

It was a pleasant journey through the woods. The silences comfortable, and the conversations easy and filled with smiles.

Magic had only been legalised for about a fortnight, and after over twenty years of fear, magic users were still understandably cautious, meaning the closest Druid camp was still a two days ride away.

But that wasn’t a problem. With Merlin now able to use his magic openly, and therefor more able to defend his King, he found he was far less anxious about the trip outside the city than he would’ve been before. And if his good mood bled into the environment around them? Well... it was spring... surely no one would notice the extra flowers and abundance of butterflies?

(Arthur definitely noticed. But Merlin was still... wary, of performing sorcery openly, in fear of scaring the people who had been sucked in by two decades of propaganda and fear-mongering. Meaning Arthur sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out, in case Merlin stopped.)

It was around noon, and the sun was shining down on them when Merlin pulled his horse to a stop. He dismounts effortlessly, and hands a confused Arthur his reins. At Arthur’s raised eyebrow, Merlin sighs and speaks quietly:

“The camp is about two minutes further on but... the change in the law was only recent, and...-”

He bites his lip and looks away, worrying Arthur slightly, before continuing:

“-well, chainmail and red capes still make them a little nervous. I’ve already warned their leader that we’re coming-”

He taps his temple briefly:

“-but I should go ahead and explain properly.”

Arthur nods in understanding, and gives Merlin a comforting smile:

“I completely understand, Merlin. How long do you want me to wait, or will you come back to get me?”

Merlin returns his smile, before saying:

“Just wait ten minutes then follow me, straight down the path. Bring the horses, there’ll be somewhere to tie them there. You shouldn’t run into any trouble this close to a camp, but you do have a track-record so-”

Merlin laughs at Arthur’s indignant expression, but continues before he can interrupt him:

“-if you do, just yell. We won’t be too far away, we’ll hear you.”

Arthur rolls his eyes fondly and shoos Merlin away. The Warlock laughs as he turns and continues down the path on foot. Just before he disappears behind a large bush, he turns around again, a slightly concerned expression on his face:

“I might look a bit... different? But don’t mention it, they’re quite fond of me... uh... dressing the part.”

Arthur huffs out a laugh before saying:

“I’m sure I won’t forget what you look like in ten minutes, Merlin. Go.”

Merlin hums thoughtfully, and turns back around, disappearing into the trees and leaving Arthur to his thoughts.

After a few moments, he removes his cloak, tucking it into a saddlebag. He also, after only a little hesitation, removes his sword, strapping it to his saddle. It was still visible and easily within reach, but not so threateningly on display at his hip.

He was entering these people’s home, after personally wielding the sharp edge of their persecution for almost a decade; the least he could do was make them as comfortable as possible.

He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not even Merlin, but he had a feeling that this meet was going to end up being about more than the prophecies. Peace had been harboured, magic had been legalised, but like Merlin had pointed out, things were still a little tense. This meeting was a way to show the Druids that Arthur meant it, that his whole heart was behind this change. The he was not his father.

Arthur was a little nervous (not that he’d ever admit that), this was important. Not just to him and the kingdom, but to Merlin personally. He had to get this right. One of the only things that Arthur had managed to get out of Merlin, to do with the whole destiny thing, was that it was finished. It was done.

If Arthur messes this up, not only will it ruin the peace they had been working so hard for... then Merlin might leave. He has no reason to stay after-all, he’s done his job. So Arthur has to get this right, has to impress everyone, now more than ever, because if he fails and the Druids all leave Camelot, then Merlin would leave with them.

And that thought was... unbearable.

He counts down the minutes, getting more and more tense. He tried to distract himself by thinking about what Merlin had said, “dressing the part” what does that even mean?

But it doesn’t work. Soon enough his brain is throwing thought after paranoid thought at him, about all the possible ways Merlin could tell Arthur he hated him, and leave forever and ever.

Arthur rubbed his eyes harshly, muttering to himself about how he really should’ve accepted the “relaxing tea” Gaius had offered him before they left. Other than Merlin, the old physician is the only one who ever seems to know what he needs in the moment, Arthur should definitely learn to listen to him more.

He finally reaches zero in his mental countdown, and sighs before standing from where he’d sat on a fallen log. He’d allowed the horses to wander a bit but they were trained to stay close by, so he has no problem gathering their reins again and leading them slowly down the path Merlin had followed.

All Druid camps were different. Some moved around constantly, some stayed fairly still. Some were huge, acres large with hundreds of people, others were small, only ten people or so. Some were occupied by mostly the sick and elderly, others were full of the young and adventurous, and others were family orientated.

And of course it was rare, according to Gaius, that someone would stay in the same camp their whole life. The Druids were a nomadic people, always shifting, drifting, wandering. Following a constantly tugging thread in their hearts, going where nature beckoned them.

According to Merlin, this specific camp was pretty small (around twenty adults) but it was also a fairly familial group, meaning lots of children. And if that didn’t make Arthur nervous (it definitely did) then nothing would.

Arthur didn’t have much experience with children, and definitely had no concept of how to act around them, especially Druid children.

After about a minute of walking, Arthur could hear loud laughter and quiet conversations floating through the trees. He slowed his pace; trying to appear unthreatening and friendly, or to delay the inevitable, he’s not quite sure.

He finally breaks through the treeline to see that... no one is even looking in his direction.

It was the middle of the day, so the camp was busy, people milling about everywhere, most of the tents open, various jobs getting done throughout the clearing.

But what immediately drew Arthur’s eye, was the source of the laughter.

The King looked across the clearing to see Merlin, in a whole new wardrobe, and a whole new light.

The man had changed from his simple travellers clothes (basically the clothes he’d worn as a manservant, just a bit newer and cleaner.) into a loose, white, lace up shirt (sleeves rolled up, which Arthur absolutely did NOT find himself staring at, thank you very much.) paired with slim black trousers.

But what was most striking, was the deep blue cloak billowing behind him, and the silver crown on his head. It was delicate, as if forged with vines and leaves and feathers, but it was oh so Merlin.

Arthur stayed at the edge of the clearing, glad that no one had noticed him; allowing him to stare in reverence at his best friend.

He was surrounded by young children, all laughing joyously as his eyes glowed golden and he waved his hands around. He needn’t mutter spells as he smiled widely, willing butterflies and bees to manifest in the air around him.

One of the younger children held his arms in the air and made grabbing motions with his hands. Merlin bent over and pulled him up into the air without a moment of hesitation, spinning him around on the spot (much to the kid’s enjoyment, who giggled outrageously), before settling him on his hip.

He used one hand to support the kid’s weight (when did Merlin get so strong??), and used the other to summon flowers around the feet of the rest of the children.

A fond smile spread across Arthur’s face as he saw them run around exuberantly, gathering the flowers in chubby hands to present to parents and siblings and friends.

Arthur laughed softly as he saw Merlin reply enthusiastically to something that the boy on his hip had said, and a second later, the child had a butterfly perched on the end of his nose. 

Arthur is broken from his concentration, jumping a foot in the air when a soft hand lands on his shoulder from behind.

He whips his head around, just about managing to stop himself from yelping and reaching for where his sword usually is at his hip.

He calms his breathing as his eyes find the friendly face of a Druid, an amused smile on his face. Arthur returns his smile, a tad shakily, suddenly feeling the nerves again, and nods his head respectfully.

The man keeps his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, but looks towards Merlin in the clearing, before softly saying:

“He’s quite something, your Emrys, isn’t he?”

Arthur gulps, also looking back at Merlin as he replies with a chuckle that was only slightly forced:

“He’s more yours than mine, especially like this, but yes, he is something special.”

The Druid laughs disbelievingly, and Arthur turns to look, a confused expression on his face as he listens to his reply:

“Definitely not. He’s always belonged to you more than he’s belonged to us-”

He stops laughing to look at Arthur, eyes sparkling with friendly mirth as he continues:

“-prophecy or no, he had a... well... a pre-carved place among the Druids, but he still chose to carve his own space by your side. I think that speaks volumes about where he truly belongs, or at least where he wants to belong, don’t you?”

Arthur doesn’t really have a response to that as he stares at the man with barely concealed bafflement, but luckily, before the silence stretches too long, the Druid gestures to the clearing:

“Come. Everyone is excited to meet you, though I warn you, the children in this camp can be rather energetic, as you’ve already seen.”

Arthur gulps and nods, following him into the centre of the camp.

Everyone’s attention is quickly caught by The King’s presence, and someone comes over to wordlessly take the horse’s reins from him.

The adults bow their heads slightly in respect, giving him soft smiles, and the children fidget on the spot, wide grins on their faces as they whisper conspiratorially to each other.

The boy in Merlin’s arms wiggles, and he gets put down. He rushes over to Arthur, grabbing his hand with a toothy grin and dragging him over to Merlin and the other children.

Merlin hides a laugh behind his hand as Arthur’s eyes widen, and his face goes pale. He thought this was going to be meetings and serious discussions and apologies, not playing with children!! What do children even like?! Swords?? Can he talk to them about swords??! Druids are pacifists right? So probably not??

He gets pulled down to crouch, and the children crowd him, all babbling at once, wildly showing him flowers and butterflies.

Merlin laughs at his bewildered fear for a few moments, before he crouches next to Arthur and holds his hands up, saying loudly:

“Alright, alright, you lot. Remember what I said?”

The children still, and a chorus of “Yes Lord Emrys” resounds from the group. With that, they stay silent, but still grin widely and bounce on the spot in excitement.

Arthur gives Merlin a stressed, but grateful smile, before looking back to the children. He takes a deep breath, before smiling at them, and saying:

“My name’s Arthur. Thank you for having me, I appreciate your hospitality.”

Merlin snorts at his overly formal tone, and has to stop himself laughing at the shock and fear on Arthur’s face when one of the younger ones loudly asks:

“What’s hosp-ee-tal-it-ee?”

Arthur furrows his brows, but luckily one of the teenagers steps in, quietly saying:

“It’s when someone comes into your home, and you’re nice to them.”

Arthur smiles and nods, and Merlin chuckles in amusement.

Thankfully (for Arthur) Merlin then stands and announces to the children that it’s lunch time, and to get washed up. They all rush off, and Arthur lets out a breath as he stands.

Merlin holds in yet another laugh, but tilts his head in confusion as Arthur’s gaze is once again drawn to the crown that rests on Merlin’s unruly hair.

Merlin flushes slightly when he realises what Arthur is looking at, looking to the floor and mumbling:

“You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to get them to just call me Merlin, but then they presented me with this a few months ago and I could hardly say no, could I?”

Arthur nods as Merlin looks up again, meeting his gaze. There’s a soft smile on his face, one that Merlin isn’t quite sure what to make of as he quietly replies:

“Hmm. Looks good on you.”

Merlin makes a surprised noise and his eyes go wide, the flush on his cheeks deepening as Arthur laughs gently at him.

Arthur puts his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, his thumb brushing against the skin of his neck in a way that was slightly more than friendly, but Merlin doesn’t pull away, so Arthur leaves his hand there as he looks around the bustling camp.

His smile falls into something more sad, and Merlin frowns at him curiously:

“Arthur? What is it?”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, not looking back at Merlin as he replies, almost whispering:

“Nothing. It’s just, last time I was this far into a Druid camp... I did terrible things. Look at this place, how could I ever have believed that magic was evil? It’s beautiful here.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, but before he can reply, a small hand tugs at Arthur’s sleeve, and the two of them look down suddenly to see one of the boys from before. He wore a confused expression, and whispered, as if he knew this was meant to be a secret conversation:

“What terrible things did you do, Mr King Sir?”

Merlin takes in a quiet gasp and widens his eyes, but before he can tell him off or lie, Arthur squeezes his shoulder, and crouches down in front of the child.

Arthur gives the boy a smile, and takes his hands, quietly saying:

“Well. When I was young, I was taught some things that are wrong, I didn’t question them, and because of that I did some really bad things. I thought I was being a good person, but actually I was being a bad person because I didn’t do my own research, and I didn’t know any better. But then I started learning how to be better, and now I do everything in my power to be an actual good person.-”

Arthur looks up at Merlin with a small smile on his face, before looking back down to the boy, who is hanging on to his every word:

“-Your Emrys is helping me with that. You see, he’s the best person I’ve ever met, and he’s helping me be more like him.”

Arthur resists the urge to look back at Merlin as he feels a firm, but shaky hand on his back, and instead looks at the child as he thinks over Arthur’s words. His face breaks into a grin, and Arthur returns the smile as the boy says:

“He’s the best isn’t he? I wanna be like him when I grow up!”

Arthur ruffles his hair, and replies quietly:

“Yeah kid, me too.”

The boy gives him a toothy grin, before running off once again, and Arthur lets out yet another breath he had been holding before standing up.

Merlin’s hand remains on his shoulder, and Arthur regrets meeting his gaze the moment he turns his head. But he also can’t rip his eyes away from the teary expression of awe and bewildered happiness on his face.

Merlin lets out a gentle laugh at Arthur’s apprehensive face before shaking his head, and looking back at him once again, this time amusement on his face:

“The best person you’ve ever met, huh?”

Arthur rolls his eyes and blushes deeply, pushing Merlin’s hand off his shoulder as he mumbles a flustered:

“Shut up, Merlin. I could hardly tell him the truth, could I?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully and replies with laughter in his voice:

“Hmm. That makes more sense, of course.”

Without waiting for Arthur’s reply, he grabs the King’s wrist and drags him towards a large tent in the corner of the clearing. Inside were two tables, one large, and one smaller and lower, both surrounded by benches.

Merlin directed them to bowls in the corner so they could wash their hands, before they sit at the larger of the two tables. Everyone over the ages of about fourteen joins them, the younger ones going to the smaller table.

Food appears, covering the surface, summoned from the cooking pots outside and the various food stores around the camp. Arthur tries to keep the wonderment off his face, but knows he failed miserably when he hears Merlin chuckle beside him. He punches Merlin’s leg under the table playfully, but that only makes him laugh harder.

He quietens when the man sat opposite Arthur stands:

“Today we have two honoured guests, our Lord Emrys, and the Once and Future King Arthur. We share our home, our food, and our welcome, for as long as they wish to stay. We raise our goblets to you, My Lords.”

At that, he raises his cup in the air, everyone else in the tent following him. Merlin smiles and nods at him, raising his own cup, and Arthur nervously copies his movements, comforted by Merlin’s reassuring hand on his knee.

With that, the Druid sits down, and conversation breaks out around the tent as everyone begins to eat.

Merlin handles most of the discussions, talking to everyone as if they were life long friends. Arthur is grateful for that, he answers any questions sent his way, asking a few polite ones in return, but Druid culture is so different to life in the city and Arthur doesn’t really know what he should be talking about.

Thankfully, the meal passes quickly, and after another announcement from the man Arthur now presumed was the leader here, the crowd dispersed, everything being cleared away with magic.

Not every Druid practiced sorcery, but they were clearly in a magic-heavy camp; Arthur could see it plain as day, everywhere he looked.

Merlin once again took Arthur’s wrist, leading him out into the sun. Usually, Arthur hated being led places, especially by the hand, but he found he didn’t quite mind it today. Whether it was because they were in Merlin’s domain, and Merlin was King here, or because of how nervous he was, or because of some other reason entirely, Arthur wasn’t sure, and frankly, he didn’t want to think too deeply about it.

This time, Merlin led them to another, smaller tent.

It had several comfortable looking chairs around a smallish circular table, which was covered in scrolls and parchments and old-looking books.

A few seconds later, they were joined by the Druid leader; he smiled softly at them and gestured for them to sit at the table. Merlin and Arthur sat next to each other, and the Druid kindly pretended not to notice them shuffling the chairs closer together.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, Arthur having lost his nerves fairly early in the conversation. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that official meetings were his specialty, or maybe it was because Merlin’s hand once again found his knee, but stayed there this time. Who knows.

The Druid had introduced himself, and once more welcomed Arthur to the camp, before launching into explanations of the prophecies and destinies, and everyone’s roles in them.

Merlin knew most if it, and looked especially proud of himself when the Druid described in wonder how Merlin had changed the very fates of the Lady Morgana, Sir Mordred, and Arthur himself.

Arthur was definitely taken aback at that. Whilst Merlin had prattled on, making no sense, about his and Arthur’s destinies, he had never mentioned anyone else, and Arthur becomes increasingly glad he came here to sort it all out.

There were some bits that not even Merlin knew though. He wasn’t aware that the other knights, Guinevere, and Gaius featured in a few of the newer prophecies, and the Druid had an amused smile on his face when he admitted that he’d thought Merlin would have figured that out.

Arthur did laugh at him at that, and Merlin flushed before telling him:

“Shut up, or I’ll tell the others you said I was the best person you’ve ever met, and they’ll never let you live it down.”

Arthur narrows his eyes, and the Druid continues look at them in amusement as they bicker.

The meeting comes to an end just before dark, and Arthur thanks the Druid profusely, for welcoming him, and taking the time to go through everything thoroughly.

Another meal is had in the large tent, but when they leave this time, the clearing has been completely emptied. A large bonfire roars in the middle, and logs surround it, providing seating for everyone.

The evening is full of stories and music and magic, and Arthur once again finds himself wondering just how he thought any of this could be evil.

Even Merlin stands to lead a song. He moves around the clearing with yet another child sat sat on his hip, giggling as Merlin spins her around.

Arthur is surprised to learn that Merlin has a good voice, and stares in wonderment as he leads the melody as if it was what he was born to do. The rest of the Druids clap along, joining in loudly and harmonising and playing instruments in time with the tune.

When the song comes to a close, the crowd burst into cheers as Merlin looks back to Arthur, breathing deeply and cheeks flushed. The Warlock smiles widely as he settles the child back in her mother’s lap before walking back over to his seat, next to Arthur.

Arthur returns his wide grin with a soft smile of his own, and as the music continues around them, Merlin tilts his face in happy confusion:

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Arthur just shakes his head slightly, smiling slightly wider as he responds without missing a beat:

“You’re beautiful like this. And you have an exceptional voice.”

Merlin flushes in surprise and looks to his lap, quietly muttering:

“I wouldn’t know about that...”

Arthur doesn’t look away, huffing out a laugh before replying:

“I mean it, Merlin. You just look... happy. Like you belong here.-”

He does look away here, staring into the fire with a thoughtful, but slightly mournful look on his face as Merlin peers up at him, curious. Arthur continues, even quieter, before Merlin can question him:

“-You know, I wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to stay. Here, I mean. I know magic is legal in Camelot now, but you belong somewhere like this. I would never begrudge you a home like this Merlin.”

Merlin laughs quietly, and takes Arthur’s hand, holding it in his lap like it’s something precious (it is, at least it is to Merlin). Arthur looks back at him in surprise, but doesn’t pull away as Merlin replies, still smiling:

“Home isn’t a place, Arthur, and the Druids know that better than anyone. Home is... home is wherever the people you love are. You are my people, Arthur, you and the knights and Gwen and Morgana and Gaius. My home is wherever you are. No matter my magic or title or destiny; my home will always be where you are.”

Arthur doesn’t let the tears in his eyes fall, but he does squeeze Merlin’s hand, giving him a tender smile that's returned without hesitation.

With the exchanging of smiles that any onlooker would describe as loving, the conversation comes to an easy close, and they spend the rest of the evening hand in hand, smiling fondly at the antics around them.

It’s late when the festivities come to an end, and Arthur and Merlin are exhausted, struggling to hold back yawns as they’re shown to a tent that had been set up for them.

Their bags had been removed from the horses and left in there, and the floor was covered in various blankets and pillows. There was a small trunk, for them to store anything they wished to unpack, and a few candles were lit, filling the room with a soft golden light and pleasant smells.

Merlin charms the tent to be soundproof so they don’t have to worry about noise (he may be openly able to use magic, but the idiot was still rather clumsy, and prone to accidental bangs and crashes), before removing his crown carefully. His cloak and boots follow shortly, and they all go neatly into the trunk, before he starts organising a spot to sleep.

After a few minutes, he realises that Arthur hasn’t moved from his space by the entrance, and Merlin turns around to look at him questioningly. Arthur’s eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks deep in thought as he stares at the floor, fiddling with the hem of his tunic.

Merlin walks over, concerned, and takes one of Arthur’s hands into his own. Arthur looks up at him suddenly, broken free of his thoughts, and Merlin raises an eyebrow at him as he strokes his thumb across The King’s knuckles:

“What’s wrong, Arthur?”

Arthur looks into Merlin’s eyes searchingly, but seems to find what he’s looking for after only a moment, and smiles. Merlin tilts his head to prompt him, and Arthur takes his other hand, before softly speaking:

“You know, I used to find the idea of falling in love frightening.-”

Merlin takes in a subtle deep breath, but Arthur doesn’t notice as he shakes his head, huffing out a gentle laugh before continuing, looking somewhere over Merlin’s shoulder:

“-The possibility that someone could have that much control over me; that I would willingly give another person dominion over my heart, my soul, my... everything, was terrifying to me. But I find I’m not scared anymore.-”

He looks back at Merlin’s shocked face. Arthur looks an odd mix of disbelieving, and happy beyond words as he continues, confident that what he’s saying is right, for the first time in a long time:

“-Because it’s you, Merlin. It’s always been you. And how could I possibly find falling in love with you anything other than beautiful?”

Merlin gulps, seemingly searching Arthur’s face for any hint of a lie. When he finds nothing but sincerity, he launches himself forward, almost knocking Arthur to the floor.

He wraps his arms around the blonde’s shoulders tightly, burying a hand in his hair, and his face in the crook of his neck. Arthur huffs out a laugh as he wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist, running a soft hand up and down his back.

At Merlin’s muttered:

“I love you, Arthur, more than anything is this world. My magic, my everything, belongs to you.”

Arthur pulls back, smiling. He leans forward pressing his forehead against Merlin’s, and cups his cheek softly with his hand. They stare into the blue of each other’s eyes for a moment, not in any hurry to move the moment along, Arthur running his thumb over Merlin’s cheekbone, and Merlin carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

Arthur takes a deep breath, before whispering, so quietly it’s a miracle Merlin hears him:

“Can I kiss you?”

Merlin nods infinitesimally, and the two of them lean forward, meeting in the middle in a soft kiss that could only be described as tender, and full of love.

If the stars shine brighter, and the wind blows warmer, and the animals of the dark seem happier that night... well... it was spring... surely no one would notice (Arthur definitely noticed, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out, in case Merlin stopped).

~

THE END!!

This is the first one I’ve written in aaaaages that didn’t involve a dizzy/exhausted/sick Merlin so... yay me?

I just really wanted to write something fluffy, where there were no high stakes. No huge battles, or angsty confessions or anything like that, just a soft love story.

I genuinely got no clue what I’ll write next. I do have a few drafts and ideas floating around, but let me know if you’re after anything specific, I live to please :)

Like always, you wanna write this up properly with paragraphs and fleshed out stuff, go for it, credit and tag me :)

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch. 2

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 4,000+

Masterlist

————————

Sounds of horns and shouting filled the air outside as you stood on the packed bus. Cramped in from every side, it was hard for you to tell where you were going. Not as if you were paying much attention anyways.

“Okay, you left fish and pasta in the fridge… he could use the tv or read a book for entertainment while you are gone…what about…” You ramble incoherently to yourself.

Even though the storm hit Athens hard yesterday, your studio art professor was still having classes today. Forcing you to leave Triton alone at home. You shouldn’t be nervous. There was no reason to. After all, Triton is a god, he was hundreds of years old.

But…, he was still a child. No matter how old or what type of being he is. He could still possibly injure himself or get into trouble. And that single fact alone made you feel sick to your stomach.

“Is this how parents feel leaving their child alone for the first time…?” You groan to yourself, leaning your head forward so it hits the window in front of you.

“Now Approaching *Athens International School of Art*. I repeat, Now—“ The robotic voice announces over the intercom. At the familiar name of your college, you squeeze your way through the other patrons on the bus to make your way to the doors.

Sweet, sweet air, you think to yourself as soon as you exit the bus. It was starting to get way too cramped in there. So much so, you wondered if it was a safety hazard. Though it wasn’t as if you were one to talk, you left a little boy alone—

“Argh!” You scream out, slapping the cheeks of your face. You needed to stop thinking of Triton. He was going to be completely fine. But, what if…

“I’m getting too attached already…” You groan to yourself. It had only been a day. One singular Day. But you were already smitten by the blonde haired child. “It doesn’t help that he's absolutely adorable as well…”

“Who’s adorable?” A voice calls out from behind you, making you jump in surprise. Whipping around, you let out a sigh once you identify who it was.

“Bryce… how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that…”

Bryce Kroger. He was studying abroad at Athens International School of Art for a year just like you except he was instead an architecture major. You met him by coincidence while taking art history so you didn’t know much about the guy, the only thing being the few stories he told you about his home country of Australia.

“Oi! It’s not my fault you're so skittish!” Bryce banters back with a huff.

“Whatever…”

“Eh? Wait, where you heading?” Bryce questions as he watches you walk away, “I thought you had Studio Art on Fridays?”

“I do. I’m heading to the library first though.” You yell back to the tall male who stayed put where he was standing. Not even bothering to follow you.

“You need to stop studying so much!”

“Shut up!”

“IT’S THE TRUTH!”

“SHUT UP!” You scream back with one final huff before storming off. So what if you studied so much. You just wanted to get good grades in the classes that counted. It’s how you got here in the first place. By working your ass off.

Unconsciously, you feel your hand twitch as you open the library door. So what if you spent hours studying. So what if you didn’t go out with friends that often. So what if you didn’t have a social life. So what—

You feel yourself pause, your expression turning sour. Lonely. That’s what you were. You were lonely. A miserable lonely girl.

“Miss!”

Startled out of your thoughts by the sudden call, you realize you were no longer standing at the front door but instead standing in front of one of the librarians. You must have unconsciously walked up to the front desk while you were lost in thought.

“A-Ah. Sorry, I was just looking for books on Leonar—“

You feel your voice trail off at the end as a book on the counter catches your eye. It wasn’t the gold detailing nor the leather texture. No. It was the simple words of “Greek Mythology: Tales of Zeus” printed neatly on the front.

“…Actually, Do you perhaps have any books about Poseidon?”

You just found something better to do with your time.

—.—.—.—.—

“Damn… this is extremely confusing…” You mumble to yourself as you glare at the pages of notes in front of you. Each book seemed to be a little bit different from the last. “Perhaps I should recap…”

Okay, so what makes sense to you is that Poseidon is the second eldest of three brothers and is the ruler of the seas. The things that don’t make sense are… practically everything else…

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream out of frustration right now.

According to the books, Poseidon has had many consorts over the years. One of them being Triton’s mother, Amphitrite…

“My mother… can be quite mean to other women. Even to some of the female servants around the palace. She believes that they are trying to seduce my father…”

…but that doesn’t match up with what Triton mentioned last night. According to him, it sounds like Amphitrite scared away any women that would even come near Poseidon. This also leads to another flaw in the mythology books. You doubted that Poseidon would be able to have an affair with any other women with Amphitrite antics, nevertheless have 10 other children with them.

“Triton also never mentioned having any other siblings…”

Letting out a groan, which you seemed to be doing a lot today, you banged your head against the table. It seems like these mythology books weren’t going to be of any help after all. Though…. you couldn’t help but wonder why the books were so off in the first place.

Lifting yourself back up from the table, you glare down at one of the book covers. It was blue, almost silvery in a way, with a giant black silhouette of Poseidon right smack dab in the middle. Or, at least, what Poseidon might look like…

“Well, my father is extremely strong and handsome. All the sea nymphs stare at him with big heart eyes half the time. Oh! B-but, father doesn’t pay any attention to them. Father is not a cheater like uncle Zeus…”

“…Is Father…? Oh. He’s alright… He’s nowhere as bad as my mother. He’s never hit me or anything. He’s just… cold. Extremely cold. He really just ignores me half the time…”

“…I do love my father…I just wished he would at least spare me a glance…you know?…Acknowledge his own son…”

“God damn jerk!” You hiss out in anger as you push the book aside. Your blood practically boiling at even the slightest thought of Triton’s father, Poseidon. He doesn’t deserve to have such a good and nice son like Triton.

However, as much as you want to curse out Poseidon more, you realized class would be starting soon and you really had to get a move on.

“Shit. I can’t afford to be late again.”

—.—.—

“Ugh. Why did the professor have to assign me this type of painter…?!” You whined to Yuri. Class had already ended by then with the professor long gone. The only people left were students that were conversing with others or trying to get a head start on their paintings.

“Well, it didn’t help that you barged into class late for the second time this week, (y/n).” Yuri explained with a sigh as she continued to set up her palette, not even sparing you a glance.

Yuri Saito, Or rather Saito Yuri, was an abroad student from Japan. She was the closest person you knew at the college as you both were similar in many ways. Especially since you were both homebodies.

“I get that but at least I showed up in the fir—“

“(Y/n)!” A voice shouts out interrupting your talk with Yuri. You turn around to see Bella Woods, a student apart of your major, approaching you. “(Y/n). You were part of your student council back in high school right?”

“Uh, Yeah. Why?” You answered hesitantly. You weren’t sure why, perhaps instincts, but you were already having a bad feeling about this situation.

“Well I need your help on something…” Bella explains, her voice trailing off at the end as she grabs something from her bag. It’s a piece of paper, a flier to be exact.

“A…A Cultural Festival?”

Bella nods her head at your words, “Yeah. The college wanted to put something on for the public to show what our art school is all about and Mrs. Yamamoto suggested this. A-Apparently, it’s something schools and colleges do back in Japan.”

“B-But how can I help? Wouldn’t it make sense for someone like Yuri to do this? Since she’s from Japan and all.”

It was the truth. You didn’t know a single thing about japanese culture festivals.

“Hey don’t drag me into this, I’m busy.” Yuri counterbacks with a glare before returning back to her painting.

“Well… you see… The school wanted to change Mrs. Yamamoto’s idea a bit since they really didn’t know anything about Japanese Cultural festivals either. So it’s like a Cultural festival, kind of not.” Bella rambled. You could tell all this information was scrambling her brain as well. “Basically, it’s like a Greek version of a Cultural festival where each major picks a Greek god and plans an event or booth around it.”

“…Okay… So it’s just like a school festival in a way?” You questioned cautiously. This was a lot for you to take in at once.

“Yes. Precisely. We are just taking inspiration from Cultural festivals.”

“Okay. Okay…” You answer as you rub the back of your neck, “I still don’t understand why you need me though?”

“Well, I kind of… kind of saw you reading the mythology books in the library today and we need more people on the planning committee…” Oh, god. It seems like everything is coming back to bite you in the ass, “…Just. Please (y/n), We need your help!”

You let out a small sigh as you watch Bella give you a pleading look, “Fine…”

“Yay—!“

“But…“ You start cutting off Bella’s cheers, “But I’m taking care of something really important right now at home so I can’t always make meetings and things like that. I can help with planning but that’s it. Okay?”

That was correct. As much as you wanted to help Bella and your department out with this festival, Triton was your top priority right now. His care and needs were above all else right now, even your own. So if this would get in the way of that then you would drop this project instantly. Instantly.

“Of course! Oh, thank you (y/n)!” Bella cheers, her body visibly relaxing now that a stress has been taken off your shoulder, “Well, I’m not sure if you're busy right now but… the committee is currently planning two classrooms down… so if you could…”

“I’ll go…” You sighed out. Damn, what’s with you lately. Less than two days ago, people hardly approached you. Now you are as busy as a bee. A person magnetic… Well, more like god magnetic as wel—

Wait, a minute. You feel yourself tense up as a thought flies into your brain. If Gods could travel and spend time on earth, could they live here as well? Just like how Triton wants to?

Shit. What if some that live here are able to identify Triton? You could be in big troub—

“(Y/n)? Are you coming?” Bella calls, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Y-yes.”

It seemed you would have to worry about that later. Not that it mattered right now, you could always just ask Triton when you got home. And even if he didn’t know the answer you would just have to be careful bringing him out of the house. Yeah… you would just do that.

“Guys, I would like to introduce you to (y/n). She’s a fine arts major just like us and knows about mythology. I think she would make a great addition to our group.” Bella introduces you as you enter the room. As you looked around the group of only 4 other people, you realized you really didn’t know anyone.

That is until everyone started to introduce themselves. You never heard of the first three—Brian, James and Kyle—but you found the last name, Marissa Samudra, quite familiar. You wonder if she was that Marissa.

Who you were talking about was Marissa, the hottest girl in school Marissa. Well, at least that’s what all the boys in your major told you. The girl in front of you at least seemed to fit the part. With white silk like skin, light green eyes and dyed coral pink hair, she truly was a sight to see.

“Okay. So shall we get started.” James suddenly spoke up, seeming to want to get the meeting started. You nodded your head in agreement before taking a seat next to Holly. As well as across from Marissa. “Well, I think we should first decide which god we should do. Culinary, Music, Visual performing arts and architecture already have chosen Aphrodite, Hades, Ares and Zeus. (Y/n)…”

You lift your head up at the call of your name.

“…as you know the most about Mythology, who do you think we should pick?”

“Well,…” You feel yourself pause, your palms growing sweaty out of nervousness. You really didn’t know that much about Greek Gods, only the class you took last year and the books you skimmed this morning. You also didn’t expect so many of the main gods to be taken already.

“…How about…”

You needed to think of someone fast. Someone that would satisfy all parties here. Someone that would bedazzle people coming to the festival.

“…Poseidon…?”

Why… Why was that what your brain had come up with? Poseidon? The very god that you were cursing out this morning. Wishing near death upon.

“Fish man?” Brian questioned, letting out a small chuckle at his own joke, “You really want to go with Fish man as our god? Isn’t there anyone better?”

“I think Poseidon is pretty…cool.” You feel a shiver go up your spine as you compliment the man. It was official, you might actually puke. “…He’s the king of the seas. It gives us a lot to work with for his character. Especially since most Fine Arts students are good at realistic elements, we could really do well on painting or using sea life.”

“True… but—“

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

You are shocked as you hear Marissa cut Brian off. When you first sat down, she seemed totally uninterested in the topic at hand. Caring more about her hair and nails than anything else. But now, now, she was paying attention to every little thing. You couldn’t help but wonder why. “Oh sorry. I really like the sea. It holds a special place in my heart… you know?”

Oh, that makes sense. You totally forgot Marissa’s paintings were mostly about the ocean and sea. Never drifting off to other topics.

“N-no. That’s actually pretty cool. You know what, we should totally do Posedin… or whatever the dude’s name is. He sounds really cool.” Bryan agrees as he bashfully rubs the back of his neck. Gross, could he make it any less obvious that he was smitten by her. And not in a nice way either.

You feel yourself shiver as you watch him sneak small glances down at Marissa’s chest area. Disgusting pervert…

“Well, with that decided let’s move on…”

…Great… You could already tell this was going to be a long meeting…

—.—.—.—.—

Again, for what felt like the hundredth time today, you banged your head against the wall. This time however it was against the door of your apartment.

“Seriously… a Café…?”

Yes, a Café. That’s the brilliant idea your group came up with. An under the sea type themed café.

In hindsight it didn’t sound all that bad. You could have a couple of students paint some props and decorations. Then another couple of students who know how to cook plan out the menu. Maybe even borrow some culinary students if you were lucky.

But,… there’s that.

Outnumbered three to two, the boys of your group insisted the girls that are serving customers should wear togas. Togas. They stated it was to bring in more customers but it was pretty obvious they had other intentions behind it. Especially since they didn’t even bother waiting a couple of minutes afterwards to ask if Marissa wanted to be part of the waiting staff.

“Poor girl… I feel bad for her.” You mumble to yourself as you pull out your keys, finally unlocking the door to your apartment. You wished you could just beat all those men senseless with a baseball bat. “That’s actually not a bad idea… Could I bring a wooden club and say that it's part of the character? They seem to not know that much about—“

“Miss (y/n)!” You hear shouted as something comes barreling into you. Knocking you onto the ground right as you enter your apartment. “O-oops I meant to only say (y/n)…”

Even though you got the air literally knocked out of you, you still let out a small chuckle as you reached up to run a hand through the perpetrator’s locks. Triton’s blonde locks. “It’s okay. I only told you this morning to stop referring to me so formally. It will take time for you to get used to it.”

Suddenly, you wince at a feeling of pain as you move slightly. Triton sure was strong. You, honestly, wondered if he held back some strength when he jumped at you. If so, you wondered how strong Triton was nonetheless an adult god.

Speaking of an adult god…

“Hey Triton.” The boy lifts his head up at your call, “Do any gods live on earth?”

The boy seemed to take a moment to think, “Well kind of? Not really Greek Gods though. Most of them are too proud to live with humans.”

“Oh well that’s goo— Wait, a minute! Other gods are real as well!?”

Triton nods his head furiously, “Yeah pretty much all gods. As long as it is considered as one, it exists. There’s Nordic gods…, Indian gods…, Oh! Even Buddha. I like Buddha, even though I’ve only met him once. He introduced me to salt water taffy! It’s delicious.”

“I-I see…I’ll try to get you some then. Another time.” As much as you wanted to hide your surprise you couldn’t. Learning that Greek Gods actually existed was one situation but learning that All Gods existed was a whole nother ball game. Did that mean demons existed as well?

“Hey (y/n). Could I ask you a question?” Triton asks, suddenly seeming bashful all of a sudden.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Could I…” Triton pauses for a moment, “Could I call you…”

You leaned closer to Triton as his voice slowly got softer and softer at the end. His ears and cheeks were bright red as he waited for you to answer. However, you couldn’t answer him as you didn’t hear the last part of what he said.

“I apologize. Could you repeat what you said, Triton? I couldn’t hear the end of it.” You felt bad for asking him to repeat it as his face only seemed to get even more red when you asked.

“I-I… Could I call you… Mom?”

It was silent as his question, or rather request, fell upon your ears. You thought about it for a moment. Especially whether it was morally right for you to have him call you ‘mom’. Even if his true mother was a terrible person, she was still his mother.

Though, then again, She really didn’t act like his mother. Especially in all her hundreds of years of existence of having him. At least from what you’ve heard from Triton. She’s had plenty of chances to show her love for him and she never did.

“Of…Of course you can.”

You feel yourself smile as Triton’s face lit up. And you knew, Deep down inside, that you did the right thing. You would show this boy the love he deserved.

“Hey (Y— Mom.” You giggle at how Triton seemed to practically beam with happiness once the title left his lips.

“Yes, Triton?”

“Could we have dinner right now?”

You feel yourself jump up a little in surprise. Since you stayed later than what you usually would, due to the meeting, you didn’t have anything prepared ahead of time for dinner.

“Ah, yes. Do you think you could wait in the living room while I prepare it?”

“Of course!” Triton answers as he scrambles up off of you. As you make your way to the kitchen—which was technically in the same room as the living room—to start dinner, you find yourself drifting off into your thoughts.

You realized you really hadn’t thought this through. Taking care of Triton and all. Your apartment was small, he didn’t have his own room, he seemed to eat a lot more than a human boy his physical age and so much more.

You wouldn’t be able to buy a bigger apartment right now. Going through college and all. But you could take more shifts at work. After all, it was literally down the street. You were also good friends with the owner of the toy shop next door. You bet he would allow Triton to play with a couple of toys while you worked.

As you continue to list things you would need to take care of Triton especially if it was long term, Triton was watching cartoons on the couch.

“…Wonder cats will be right back!…”

As the show goes to commercial break, Triton feels himself let out a sigh. Television sure was awesome and all, much better than the plays and coliseum matches used to entertain gods, but he despised ads more than anything.

“Who in the world created such a malicious thing…”

Triton’s voice trails off at the end as the ad changes to another. As he stares at the screen, he feels a shiver shoot down his spine. As quickly as he could, Triton changes the channel to another before shakily dropping the television remote. A cold sheen of sweat breaks out all over his skin as he collapses back onto the couch.

To anyone else, the commercial before looked like any normal hair dye commercial seen on Tv. But not to Triton. Especially when he saw something oh so familiar.

“T-that hair color…” Triton feels himself shiver at the thought, “L-looked too much like Aunties. Mom’s…No…

…Amphitrite’s Sister.”

Author Note: Ahhh this chapter contained so much but I knew I couldn’t split it up. Especially if I was doing posting Tuesdays and Thursdays. I was worried that the time frame in between would mess my readers up. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this Chapter. I know there wasn’t a lot of Triton moments but I wanted to get the ball rolling on the plot so that things and certain characters (*cough* Poseidon *cough*) will appear soon. Well that’s it for now, see you next time :)))

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 21

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 21: IMPROVVISANDO

Music glossary: Improvvisando: with improvisation

Glossary: Wǎnshàng hǎo : Good evening Shīfù : Teacher/Master

(Mood music: Night of Beijing - Jia Peng Fang)

That evening

Marinette fidgeted with her napkin, occasionally sipping her now-lukewarm tea while sitting at the kitchen bar counter. Chat Noir sat on the stool beside her in silence, also nursing a half-emptied cup. She checked the clock for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last few minutes.

“It’s about that time. I’ll head up to my room to let Ladybug inside. Will you get the door if your visitor arrives before she does?”

“Sure,” he replied, uneasy but compliant, doing his best to avoid staring at the black eye she’d received earlier that day.

Marinette set her cup in the sink and headed upstairs, leaving Chat alone with his thoughts.

He tried to keep his fast-beating heart in check, subconsciously clenching his jaw. It was finally happening. He was going to meet “him”: The Guardian of the Miraculous.

Following the events at school earlier that day, Adrien had walked Marinette to her house, where her family invited him to stay for a cup of tea until his “ride” arrived to pick him up. Of course, he’d eagerly accepted. It was nice to interact with the family as Adrien instead of just as Chat Noir.

After leaving, he hid away and transformed so he could sneak in through Marinette’s balcony as he usually did.

Upon transforming, however, he found a series of voice mails from Ladybug that she’d left during Adrien’s attempted abduction. Her voice was frantic. He could hear the urgency and distress in her tone, and a heavy blanket of guilt settled onto his shoulders as he listened.

The first message asked him to come to their school, that it was an emergency, to please call her back as soon as possible. He chewed on his lip, wanting nothing more than to hide away in a cave in shame.

The second one must have been left right after she’d rescued Adrien and left him at the school nurse; she’d called to let Chat know the incident had passed. Then she asked if he was okay, since she hadn’t heard back from him. He sighed. Typical Ladybug, always worrying and thinking about others first, even when she was having a rough time.

The last voicemail caused a trail of ice to trickle down his spine as he listened. Ladybug informed him that she had scheduled an impromptu meeting with the Guardian at the Dupain-Cheng’s house that evening, with Marinette’s permission, and that it was of utmost importance that he attend.

He shivered as goosebumps appeared on his arms and he swallowed hard. What was the purpose of this meeting? Was he in trouble for not showing up today during ‘Adrien’s’ kidnapping? And why meet here, at the Dupain home, instead of somewhere more private and away from civilians? What was the Guardian like? Would Chat get reprimanded and treated with disdain for having been their enemy for all these years, or would he be understanding and forgiving?

More importantly, would he have to disclose his identity to him, or to both him and Ladybug, to prove his loyalty? He winced at the mere thought of it. The last thing he wanted was for Ladybug to think less of him, or to pity him. Especially after the kidnapping attempt.

Additionally, if they were to learn that Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, would they want to confront him head-on? Adrien didn’t feel ready for that, for several reasons.

First of all, would he be able to protect Ladybug, as he’d promised her? Hawkmoth had shown that he’d developed some sort of new power. Either that, or an entirely different person had become involved and was helping him. In any case, he didn’t know what exactly they were dealing with anymore.

Secondly, if the time came and he had to hurt or even kill his father, he didn’t know if he’d be able to do it. Yes, Gabriel was a monster and Adrien despised what he had become. But what if the damage was reversible and there was still a way to bring him back to normal? He just had to know, before doing something he might permanently regret.

The sudden ringing of the doorbell startled Chat out of his thoughts and he practically fell off his seat.

He ran to answer the front door, looking to make sure no one else was around. At the last second, he remembered to detransform and slip on the hood of his zip-up sweater (the one Marinette had gifted him), pulling a scarf over his nose and mouth so he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone outside were to catch a glimpse of him.

He looked out through the peephole, only to see the very top of someone’s head, balding with grey hair, and a little bit of their eyebrows.

Huh. Somehow Adrien thought the Guardian would be a bit… taller?

He turned the knob and the door opened, its squeaking hinges somehow louder than usual. Peeking out from the side like a scared tortoise, he checked to make sure the individual matched the description he was given, then stepped back to allow the door to swing open all the way. The older man stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello,” Adrien said meekly, bowing his head slightly. “You must be…”

“Yes. I am Wang Fu,” he replied, bowing politely in greeting. “It is very good to see you again, Adrien Agreste.”

While Adrien’s face scarf efficiently concealed the way his jaw dropped when the elder man called him by name, there was no hiding the way his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“W- what?!” he sputtered. “How did you—”

The man called Fu chuckled, stroking his beard. “It was a long time ago, but we’ve met before.”

Adrien lowered his scarf and frowned in concentration, falling silent for a few seconds. Then it dawned on him.

“YOU!!” he gaped. “I do remember you! It was my first day of lycée! You fell down in front of our school and I helped you up. It was you who put the cat miraculous in my bag that day, wasn’t it?”

“That is correct,” Fu confirmed.

“But why me? You could’ve picked anyone, so why did you choose someone like me?”

Fu’s smile faltered when he said this. Adrien had said “anyone”, but he could see that Fu knew what he’d actually meant. Why did you choose someone as broken as me?

The man folded his arms behind him, considering his answer. “Guardians are bestowed with several powers and abilities. One of them is to locate and select good candidates for the miraculous jewels. And so I was led to you.”

Chat grimaced in confusion. “So if you already knew it was me, why bother to ‘test’ me?”

“My powers as a guardian may lead me to a potential candidate, but ultimately the choice is still mine to make. It was a simple test, but it showed me what your first instinct would be if you saw someone in need. The answer I received was satisfactory. You were meant to be Ladybug’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Honestly, a couple of months ago I wouldn’t have known whether to hug you because I got to become Chat Noir, or whether to punch you because I had to become Chat Noir. But it’s because of you that I got to meet Ladybug, so I am grateful to you for that. It’s good to finally meet you. Officially.”

He extended his hand and Fu took it with a smile, giving it a firm shake.

Afterwards, Adrien’s gaze fell, brows scrunching together. “I can’t believe it. All this time, you knew. You could’ve told Ladybug who I was years ago. She could have figured out a way to take away my miraculous while I wasn’t transformed, like at school, and she would’ve had one less enemy to deal with. It would’ve––” he pursed his lips, expression full of shame, and he lifted his eyes to meet Fu’s once again, “–it would’ve made it easier for her. She would’ve suffered less if I’d been out of the picture. So why didn’t you?”

Fu’s countenance became somber, his eyes carrying years of pain and regret. He took a few moments to consider his words. “When I was a boy, barely a teenager, something terrible happened. Hundreds of innocent people died, and it was all because of me.”

Chat almost reeled back as if he’d been smacked across the face, puzzled about the sudden switch in topic. He remembered Ladybug briefly mentioning this a few months ago, on the night they danced together. He waited for Fu to elaborate.

“I was only trying to protect them,” the older man explained. “After I was orphaned as a child, the monks of the Guardian Temple took me in. They became my family. They were stern, but fair and kind. It was a tough childhood, but I was happy.” He sighed. “However, there were those who would try to steal the miraculous and use their power selfishly. It was an endless struggle. Many were lost over the years. I longed for peace. I wanted my family to be safe, I wanted us to be left alone. So I did what I thought would be a better route, an easier one; one with less hardship and bloodshed. You see, one day while I was supposed to be on guard duty, I sneaked away to where the miraculous box was kept. I put on both the ladybug and cat miraculouses and used them to make a wish: I wished that our enemies would disappear.”

The older man exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut, the memories of what came next clearly still haunting him. Adrien couldn’t help but hold his breath while he listened.

“It worked,” Fu resumed, voice quiet and slightly shaky. “But as you might have suspected, there is always a price to pay; a balance that must be maintained. Therefore, because of my wish, all the monks in our Guardian temple and the innocent people of the surrounding village were ripped away from me, along with our enemies. The wish was technically fulfilled, but I never suspected that the cost would be that high. I have had to live with that in my conscience for over a hundred years.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, appearing more vulnerable than Adrien would have ever expected. He continued, “Since that time, I have both seen and caused much death in my lifetime, protecting the miraculous box alone as the last Guardian. So, you see, if there was even one person I could save, I had to try. I wanted to trust in the miraculouses, like I should have decades ago, during my misguided attempt to control the outcome of a complicated situation.”

Adrien absently rubbed his arm, pondering Fu’s words. “Looking back,” he began, “I can see the reasoning behind a lot of Ladybug’s decisions and principles, now that I know your story.”

“Indeed. Ladybug is a remarkable young lady; I knew that even back then. When I would ask her if she was willing to risk her life for the sake of a stranger, she would say yes, every single time. If anyone can persevere for the greater good, it was her. Was it unfair of me? Probably. Have I asked too much from her? Absolutely. Have I made mistakes while trying to guide her? Yes. Many of them.” He put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I wanted to save you that day by giving you the cat miraculous. But I never would have guessed that it would also doom you and force you into a role of servitude. I hope that you will forgive me for this.”

Adrien’s heart pained for Fu as he admitted his guilt. “You couldn’t have known it would’ve turned out that way. It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

Fu shrugged. “I try to tell myself that, but I can’t quite convince myself. The situation made sense once Ladybug told me about Hawkmoth.”

“You mean, when she told you that Hawkmoth was my father?” Adrien asked.

“Yes,” Fu replied. “I had my suspicions, because it would explain your motivations, but I had no proof, no way of finding out for sure. It made sense that Hawkmoth would be Gabriel Agreste. The butterfly miraculous requires its wielder to be creative and inventive, since it relies on their ability to convert the subject’s emotions into a source of power. And he had the motivation.”

Adrien hummed in agreement.

“Additionally, such a clever and talented individual getting ahold of the cat miraculous would be incredibly dangerous. I’d be lying if I said I had never considered taking your miraculous away. But even still, it was safer to let it all play out. I didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. And if Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, your fate if you were to lose the cat miraculous would have been disastrous. Maybe it would have even alerted him about the presence of a Guardian in Paris. But now that we know the truth, we can plan accordingly.”

Adrien gulped. So Fu had considered taking his miraculous away before. “A-are you going to tell Ladybug who I am?”

Fu shook his head. “It is not up to me to decide when it will be right for there to be no more secrets between you two. I only know that it is not yet time.”

Adrien curiously tilted his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “How do you know that?”

As Fu started to answer, Adrien heard a doorknob twist open behind him and he quickly pulled his scarf back over his features.

The door opened and Ladybug’s voice exclaimed, “There you are! What are you two doing out here in the entryway?”

Adrien cleared his throat, then stammered, “R-right, pardon my manners. Please, come in.”

Fu walked past him, entering the living area. He took Ladybug’s hands between his, shaking them briefly, and said, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, Ladybug.”

With a small bow, Ladybug replied, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, shīfù. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Please, have a seat.”

Chat entered the room, having transformed now, and stepped forward to greet her.

He stopped short, realizing that he wasn’t quite sure how to greet her since last night’s development in their relationship, not to mention being very conscious of the Guardian watching them. He settled for a hug, which she returned, squeezing him tightly, and added a quick, discreet peck on his cheek. He smiled, feeling his face heat up.

Pleasantries aside and everyone seated, it was Ladybug who spoke first.

“Thank you both for being here. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

----------

A transformed Wang Fu stood at the bedroom window, curtains drawn, chanting in a language that neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir understood, holding the last of several metallic talismans he’d blessed and scattered around the room. The pair kept their eyes on him, marveling at the efficiency and care that he put into each incantation. There was something sacred, even holy about this ritual. They could feel powerful magic emanating from his form, invisible bursts of energy swirling about the room, dancing all around them in a silent symphony.

Ladybug cast a furtive glance at her partner. He’d been quiet for a little while, after learning about his attempted akumatization the night before. Ladybug had told him that it was Marinette who let her know, and that Plagg was the one who had informed her.

She’d called Master Fu before going to school to let him know what happened last night, and he promised he would figure out a solution. He’d spent all day preparing these special talismans, which would ward off akumas and keep them from entering this room. But only this room. He wasn’t strong enough to cast such a potent, long-term spell over a larger area; especially not at his age.

Fu, or rather, Jade Turtle, was silent for a few moments after placing the last charm, a silver one with indecipherable symbols carved into it, then turned around to face the couple.

“The talismans are almost done being enchanted,” he said, pretty out of breath, beads of sweat present on his brow. “There is one more thing that needs to be done. But I think I’ll need your help for this, Ladybug.”

Ladybug stepped forward in response. “Sure, Master. What is it?��

“I would do it myself, but, well… let’s just say I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Of course Master, anything you need. Just tell me what to do.”

Fu removed his bracelet, the turtle miraculous, and turned back to his civilian self, then handed the jewelry to her. His kwami, Wayzz, floated next to them awaiting instruction.

“If you could transform with my miraculous to finish the protection spell, I’d very much appreciate it. I’ll show you what to do when you’re ready.”

The young woman gaped at him, having never transformed into any hero other than Ladybug before.

“Oh! R-really?? S-sure! No problem...” She took the bracelet hesitantly, studying it like she’d never seen it before, then excused herself to the ensuite for privacy.

In the bathroom, Ladybug detransformed and removed her earrings, handing them to Tikki for safekeeping. She put on the emerald stone bracelet, staring at it as if it might try to crawl away from her if she wasn’t careful enough.

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation. “Wayzz, shell on.”

Jade green light shone around the bathroom, and Marinette felt the magic of the turtle miraculous engulf her form. When it passed, she gulped and opened her eyes, lifting them to the mirror to catch a glimpse of her newly transformed self.

“Whoa.”

The heroine stared at her reflection across the way. She ran her fingers over the various bits of fabric and armor, taking the time to appreciate the feel and texture. Somehow, she felt quite powerful. Tough. Solid. Almost like a sentient brick wall.

“Wow, Marinette! You look incredible!” Tikki whispered to her.

“Aww, thank you Tikki,” she replied. “It feels so different, but it’s also really cool.”

Sparing one last glance into the mirror, she finally emerged from the bathroom. Fu was seated at the desk chair across the room, taking a short breather. Chat was speaking to him in hushed tones, but turned around when he heard her re-enter the bedroom.

His jaw dropped and he gasped.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable!” Chat blurted out. He caught himself and turned tomato red, then stuttered, “Umm! S-sorry, I––”

Ladybug (Lady...turtle??) giggled, stepping forward to stand beside him once again. “Thanks,” she replied shyly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear as she usually did when she was nervous, but her hand bumped into her suit’s hood instead. Not quite sure what to do with her hands, she folded them in front of her as she awaited further instruction.

Tikki flew in front of Master Fu, bowing her head in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Master!”

“Likewise. I hope you are doing well,” he greeted back.

Tikki flew over to Chat Noir, to say hello to him as well. “Hello, Chat Noir! It’s nice to formally meet you,” she chirped happily.

Chat beamed and answered, “Tikki, right? It’s great to finally meet you too! I must admit, you look a little different than I thought you would.”

Tikki giggled. “Did you think I’d be more insect-like? Maybe with six legs and an exoskeleton?”

Chat shrugged timidly. “Well, I mean… Maybe…?” ‘Ladybug’ and Tikki looked at each other and snickered at his reply.

Fu smiled at their interactions fondly, recalling times spent with loved ones, allies no longer here. With a small grunt, he stood up to continue the protection ritual.

“This way, Ladybug. Chat Noir and Tikki, please stand over there; we’ll need a bit of space for this. You might feel a bit tired once this is finished, so be sure to get plenty of rest tonight,” he instructed.

Tikki perched on Chat’s shoulder as he moved towards the edge of the room. They spoke in hushed voices as Fu instructed Ladybug and had her repeat phrases from his notes.

While they waited, Chat turned to Tikki and whispered, “By the way, I wanted to thank you... for helping Ladybug and keeping safe all these years. She means a lot to me.”

If kwamis could blush, Chat was sure that’s what Tikki’s face showed at the moment. “It’s been a pleasure to be her kwami. She’s the best! I’m glad you’ve gotten to know her and see what a sweet person she is.”

Chat smiled, cheeks dusted pink. “I am too.”

------

Many minutes passed, and Ladybug and Fu finished casting the protection ward. Chat helped Fu gather his things as Ladybug excused herself to transform back to her regular hero self.

As she re-emerged from the bathroom, Chat handed her a glass of water and invited her to sit on the bed so she could catch her breath and gather back some of her energy. “Welcome back, Lily-bug,” he greeted her with a wink. Ladybug beamed at him, accepting the water and taking a seat next to him.

Fu stood beside them, having finished gathering his belongings in a satchel. As he gave Ladybug time to rest, he asked, “Do either of you have any questions about the protection ritual, or about anything else?”

Ladybug replied, “I actually do have some questions, sir.”

Fu nodded.

“Master... why did Hawkmoth attempt to akumatize Chat Noir last night? If he’s tried it before, why did he not succeed during other nights?” Ladybug’s questions came faster once she got started. “Since he tried to akumatized Chat, does that mean he knows where he lives now? Is Chat even safe here anymore? What about the Dupains? Are they gonna be okay? How much does Hawkmoth know?”

Chat looked at Fu expectantly, realizing that he, too, had those same questions.

Fu replied, “The owner of the butterfly miraculous sends out his butterflies in search of a specific strong emotion, but is not aware of their location until after the host accepts it. He is able to learn some vague details about why they are feeling that certain emotion. My guess is that he was able to locate him while he was having a nightmare. So, no. He does not know that Chat Noir lives here. His powers have limitations, just like you do with yours. He is more powerful since he is older and more experienced, but even he can’t overextend the capabilities of his miraculous.”

He paused, stroking his beard, and contemplated. Then he asked, “Did something happen last night to make your emotions different from what they normally are?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other, blushing furiously, stammering as they attempted to answer without divulging too much unnecessary information.

Fu raised an eyebrow, then chuckled knowingly, raising his hands to stop them. “It’s okay, I don’t need to know the details.”

“Umm! I-it’s not what you think!”

“M-master, don’t misunderstand–”

“Y-you see–”

“What happened was…”

“My guess is–” Fu interrupted, “–That Hawkmoth sensed your great joy last night, and became enraged. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy because it would mean that he is in the wrong, and his pride won’t allow him to accept that.”

Chat and Ladybug fell silent, looking downcast, as the explanation both made sense yet was immensely disheartening.

“There’s something else, Master,” Ladybug spoke again. “Something happened at school today. Akumas, but they vanished without a trace. I mentioned it to you earlier today over the phone. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Ah, yes. And all that remained was two white feathers?” Fu asked.

“That’s right. Could the akumas still be out there because they haven’t been purified?”

Fu shook his head. “Allow me to explain. Firstly, as Ladybug already knows, two of the miraculouses in my box went missing when the temple of the guardians was destroyed: the butterfly and the peacock. One of them fell into Hawkmoth’s hands sometime within the last few years. But after hearing about what happened at the school today, we can now confirm that Hawkmoth is currently in possession of not just one, but of both of them. Either that, or he has someone else working under him.”

“The Peacock… of course!” Ladybug gasped, voice filled with dread.

Chat looked at her, then back at Fu, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The Guardian’s Grimoire calls them ‘sentimonsters’, mystical beings created out of thin air using the peacock miraculous, which harnesses the power of emotions. They can be created and destroyed whenever the wielder desires. Usually they are simple creatures, designed to be helpers or perform smaller tasks. However, they can also be more sophisticated, even indistinguishable from other humans, although an enormous amount of energy is required to create these complex sentimonsters. One can even ‘borrow’ the appearance of an already existing person. In this case, Hawkmoth chose not to give the sentimonsters the ability to speak, so they couldn’t divulge their secrets, in the event that they were caught.”

Ladybug shuddered. “What the hell?! That is so creepy.”

“Indeed.” Fu looked over at Chat, who had remained pensive throughout this exchange. “Any thoughts, Chat Noir?”

Chat looked up at him, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I… I think I remember seeing the peacock miraculous in my father’s safe once. I only caught a glimpse of it; I just thought it was some of my mom’s jewelry he kept as a memento. I had no idea it was a miraculous. Otherwise, I would’ve had Plagg help me break into the safe and taken it with me when I ran away from home. There are so many things my father never told me… I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

Ladybug reached out to hold his hand, giving it a small squeeze, which he returned.

“You’ve done more than you know, believe me,” Fu replied as he unconsciously squeezed his satchel, which contained the electronic tablet where his copy of the Grimoire was stored.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and stepped forward, handing Chat Noir a card with his cell phone number.

“Call me if you have any questions, either of you. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Wayzz will make sure I hear my phone if it rings; he’s a much lighter sleeper than I am.”

“Thank you, Master Fu,” replied Chat, smiling. “And thank you too, Wayzz.”

“Thanks, Wayzz. Thank you, Master.” said Ladybug.

“Also, I must remind you once again that your identities must remain a secret until things settle down. There are negative effects that could happen if you are revealed too soon, and I’m not sure what they could be; but it’s best not to find out.”

Ladybug frowned. “But when will that be, Master? It would be so much easier to be able to communicate without having to transform.”

Fu shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. We must allow things to continue to develop on their own. I'm sure we’ll know when the time is right.”

Ladybug let out a displeased sigh. Chat nodded, glancing away with a worried look in his eyes. Despite Ladybug’s eagerness (and despite his own curiosity), waiting suited him just fine for now.

After saying their goodbyes, Fu left the pair behind and let himself out with a final wave. The two heroes remained in the bedroom, contemplating what had been discussed.

After sitting in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next, a lightbulb seemed to light up inside Ladybug’s brain, and she began typing away into her yo-yo communicator. Chat watched curiously, wondering what she was up to.

Moments later, she hopped out of the bed to jot something down onto a sticky note from Chat’s desk, then walked back.

“Just because we can’t tell each other who we are doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to contact each other when we’re not transformed. Kwamis aren’t pagers, after all.”

“Pagers? What decade is this, anyway?” Chat razzed.

“Hush, you,” she mock scolded him, suppressing a smile. “ Anyway! Here’s my brand new, Chat Noir-exclusive email address,” she said, handing him the note with a wink.

Chat’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really??” He unfolded the paper as if it was a Christmas present, excited to read the contents. His eyes widened and he burst out laughing.

“ ‘The_gr8_bugaboo@yoohoo.com’ ?!”

“What, you don't think I’m great?” she teased, striking an exaggerated, Chat Noir-style pose.

Chat’s snickering only intensified and he nodded. “Oh, for sure! The greatest!” he agreed.

Ladybug smirked. “I made it just now,” she explained. “So you’re the only one who knows about it. We may not be able to hang out in person yet, but I’d still like to talk to you during the day. Plus, it’ll come in handy for emergencies.”

“Buginette you’re a genius!”

Ladybug giggled, feeling her face warm up despite herself. “M-maybe we can message each other when you have some free time? I mean… now that you don’t have to worry about getting akumatized in your own room anymore. Your bedroom’s pretty much the safest place in Paris now, thanks to Master Fu.”

“And thanks to you, as well, my dear ‘Lily-bug’,” Chat reached up to take her hand, gently pulling her down to sit next to him. “I feel much better already. And knowing I can talk to you anytime makes me feel even safer.”

She scooted closer, setting her head down on his shoulder. “Y-you know… you make me feel safe too, Kitty.”

Chat’s insides twisted into pleasant little knots, suddenly feeling rather warm. “Really?”

He felt her smile as her hand squeezed his arm, her other one sneaking across their laps to wrap her fingers around his own. “Yeah. I know we’ve only been allies for a short time, but I’ve already lost count of all the times you’ve saved me or sacrificed yourself to help others. Our partnership grows stronger every day, and I think Hawkmoth knows it. He knows we’re stronger together. And it’s only a matter of time until we can be together without these masks too, I just know it.”

He turned towards her, putting his fingers under her chin and lifting her head to have her look up at him. Their eyes met, her pupils dilating as they focused on his own, and he could see a bright blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Me too,” he whispered, as he brought their lips together.

She blissfully melted into him, letting out a small noise of contentment. She deepened the kiss, reaching behind his head to caress his hair with her slender fingers. Their kisses and breaths mingled together and they lost track of everything else around them.

A little while later, they faintly heard the grandfather clock striking the hour in the living room, then some noises as the Dupains shuffled upstairs from the bakery to get ready for bed.

Ladybug pulled back and they separated, his lips still tingling from her touch.

“I… I should probably get going soon,” she lamented with a small shrug. “It’s starting to get late.”

“Would you like me to walk you home? Or rather, to somewhere around your neighborhood?”

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I’m closer than you might think,” she added a bit cryptically.

“I wish you could stay,” he said softly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. He gave her nose a tiny smooch. “Just a teeeeensy bit more?” he begged, giving her the best kitten eyes he could muster.

Ladybug giggled shyly, cheeks still dusted with pink. She gave his own nose a peck, her lips soft and inviting. “Well… I guess I could stay just a little bit longer,” she said with a smirk.

“Purr- fect,” he said, capturing her lips once again.

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

Note:

Many of the events in the “Volpina” and “Collector” episodes happened in this AU, albeit heavily modified to suit the story. Adrien found the grimoire in his father’s safe, took it out to study it, and Lila stole it. Since Adrien didn’t act impressed about Lila knowing Ladybug, she didn’t magnify the lie and claim to be Ladybug’s best friend; therefore, Ladybug never showed up to call her out on her lie, and Lila was never akumatized.

However, Tikki did see the book in the dumpster and retrieved it, and Marinette showed it to Master Fu. After Gabriel discovered the book was missing and pulled Adrien out of school, Fu made a copy so that Marinette could return it to Gabriel, and Adrien was allowed to attend school again. Currently, Adrien has no idea that this is how Fu acquired his grimoire; he merely assumes that Fu has always had his own copy.

Of course, Marinette began to suspect that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth because he owned the grimoire. Gabriel akumatized himself into the Collector in order to avoid suspicion, and with Chat’s help, almost succeeded in obtaining the ladybug miraculous. Ultimately, Ladybug outsmarted him, got him to accidentally “collect” Chat, and succeeded in purifying his akuma. But by then, Gabriel had “proven” he was an innocent civilian and Ladybug dismissed his potential involvement as Hawkmoth.

----

P.S.  Another note: Certain things that are similar but not identical to canon have been in my outline since the beginning, so I apologize if they're a little confusing (such as the protection talismans being similar to Ladybug's akuma victims' lucky charms or the destruction/disappearance of the Guardian Temple)

[kass-storycorner]

I really loved your ghost fic with Xiao. But it left me curious to have a second part in which they finally find the way to communicate. Whenever is just to say goodbye and having reader going to the afterlife or getting stuck there forever in an eternal solitary pseudo-company together is up to you, I just want to see them talk 😭

awww, thank you! I'm so glad you loved it (though I am sorry for the sad feelings haha). And I was really struggling to find a way to end that orginal story in the beginning, which is the reason why it ended that way oops. Well, now here is the follow up for it. Compared to the small bit I wrote for Xiao... I mean not even compared to it, this is the longest fic I've posted on here so far? Ah, well. I just had so much fun with it.

Idea/Prompt: a follow up to Xiaos part in this post

Genre: a bit of Angst and Hurt, more comforting than the first part, but if the ending is a happy one is up to you!

Characters: Xiao (Zhongli as side character, mention of Hu Tao, Verr Goldot, a new character I made up that did not get a name)

Format: Text

Word count: 5593

Content warning: mentions of blood, spoiler-y for the second act of Zhonglis story quest and the same spoilers warnings as for the OG post! this is not proof read, I started writing this at midnight and its 5am now ahha fml

The Ghost of you Part II. - To the end

yes we are keeping the mcr names

“Xiao”, he felt an uneasiness in his body upon hearing his name. Where was he? Looking around, Xiao saw he stood in a field of flowers. When did he come here? He had no recollection of it at all. Confused he furrows is brows, worry filling his heart and then- “Xiao.” There it was again, that voice calling out to him. Speaking his name softly, voice filled with affection. Where did it came from? He walked around the field, no end of it in sight, looking for that voice calling out to him. The longer he searched for it, the more his heart was filled with dread. “Xiao.” This time the voice came from behind him and when he turned around, he saw you, holding your hand out to him and smiling. “(Y/N)”, Xiao looked at you in disbelief. Was it really you standing in front of him? Your laugh pulled him out of his trance. “Xiao, why are you standing there like a pillar? Come, take my hand,” and at that you wiggled it a bit, signalling him that you're waiting for him to take it. “(Y/N),” Xiao repeated, standing still and looking at your hand, then to you. “What are you doing here?”. Again, you laughed as if what he said was the silliest thing you ever heard. “What do you mean by that? Xiao,” you shook your head and then you shoot him a bright, warm smile. “You wanted to come here, remember? Now come, take my hand and dance with me before the music stops.” Dance? Music? At first Xiao did not understand what you meant, but then he heard it. In the distance, the low sounds of a flute, a sweet melody that sounded strange but all too familiar. “Xiao”, he heard you whisper his name, speaking so gently. Slowly, he was still a bit hesitant, he reached out for your hand, taking it in his. A smile came across your face at the touch of your hands. With a swift motion Xiao was pulled into your arms, you both at first staying still in that embrace. “Xiao, lets dance, okay?”. With that you both started to waltz around the field, Xiao not knowing how he knew to dance like this, but somehow, he did. The dread that started to spread in his chest earlier was now gone, replaced by the feeling of love he felt for you. Still, there was something tugging at his mind, telling him something was amiss here. It felt familiar, yes. However, it also seemed to be strange to him at the same time. Though Xiao tried to push the nagging feeling away, wanting only to enjoy this pleasant moment with you. Which is why he at first didn’t notice how the sky darkened above them nor that the music had stopped a while ago. As you both stopped to dance, still holding each other in your arms, he heard you call out to him again. “Xiao”, the sound of your voice was filled with pain and when he looked at you in his arms the light behind your eyes was gone, your face stiff and emotionless. At the sight of your dead eyes, he wanted to part from the embrace, but he couldn’t let you go. Xiao saw the blood, saw the bruises and suddenly he was on his knees again, you are laying in his arms. He wanted to cry, wanted to say your name but he couldn’t. It was as if there was no air to breath so he could speak. And then – “Xiao.” His name. “Xiao.” Again. “Xiao.” Over and over again he heard how his name was spoken, but with every whisper of his name the voice became more distorted, louder. Until he cowered in pain at the sound of it, wanting it to stop, wishing for it to stop. “Xiao”.

With that Xiao woke up, his body covered in cold sweat and his breathing erratic. Another nightmare of you, another nightmare of something he wished the both of you could’ve done but never did – because of his shortcomings. Xiao sat atop of a rock, looking over the forest in which your ghost continued to wander aimlessly around. He had been watching you for a few weeks now, trying to figure out what kept you here and how he could help you. However, Xiao was clueless at what could be the cause of this. It was clear to him now that he couldn’t help you, he needed to find someone who could. Looking down at the forest, seeing your ghost wander around between the trees, he softly whispered. “I will be back soon, I won’t leave you again for long, I promise.” There weren’t many people Xiao could ask for help. Back when you were alive Xiao wasn’t the most social, wanting to keep his distance from humans. After you died this habit of his, avoiding others, only worsened. So, the only person Xiao could think of to ask for help in this matter was the same who saved him from his servitude as a bloodhound. Zhongli spend most of the last hundred years among the people of Liyue, but for a few decades now he lived in a remote house. It was now the door of said house Xiao knocked on, knowing that although he could easily enter the house, Zhongli preferred it for him to knock. “Ah, Xiao, it is nice to see you,” Zhongli greeted the adeptus. As Xiao entered the house and followed the tall man into his kitchen, it was a standard practice of Zhongli to drink a tea with anyone who visited, he couldn’t stop to notice that the notebooks scattered around the house grew in number. “So,” Zhongli began his question, “what brings you here? From your troubled look I can tell you didn’t come for the tea or my company.” With that Xiao didn’t waste any time on more formalities, explaining his predicament to the former Geo-Archon. “Mmmh, I see,” he replied, taking a sip from his cup. “I fear I might not be much of help in this case, although I have some knowledge on the topic of the human afterlife, I can’t think of a solution to this. However, it might be best to go ask Hu Tao on advice, as she is way more… let’s say, perceptive when it comes to the dead.” How bothersome, Xiao thought at the mention of Hu Tao. “Zhongli, Hu Tao is long dead”, was all Xiao could say. It happened more frequently now that Zhongli seemed to forget things, small ones but also important pieces of information and this filled Xiao with unease. He didn’t like it that the erosion of Zhongli already was set in motion, thinking about that one-day Xiao might have to face him in battle should he lose all sense of self and sanity. Neither did Zhongli enjoy slowly losing his memories of the past – although he wrote down as much as possible, it bothered him that he had to even rely on his notebooks. “Ah,” Zhongli replied, setting his cup down on the table and with a troubled look, “I seem to have forgotten something again. Would you please help my memory, when did this happen?” “One thousand years might have already passed,” Xiao saw how much it stirred Zhongli up that he had forgotten the passing of a friend. “She had a good life, right? I’m sorry for asking, but I somehow can’t seem to remember much about her later life.” “Yes,” Xiao answered, thinking about the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. There weren’t many humans he tolerated or even enjoyed being around, but Hu Tao was one Xiao always was fond of. She was also the one at the Parlor that day you died, when Xiao came in with your dead body in his arms, he hoped he might find Zhongli maybe he could do something about it, but… Xiao knew there was nothing anyone could do. Hu Tao understood his pain, without a word she showed him where to put your body and prepared your funeral, without even asking for a single Mora. “Then, “Zhongli pulled Xiao out of his thoughts, “maybe you might find help with the new Director, her family always had some knowledge about that human afterlife that’s even a mystery to me.” With that

Xiao said his goodbye to Zhongli and made his way to Liyue. The city of Liyue changed over the last thousand years a lot, but the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was still one of the constants in the city. Xiao couldn’t remember the last time he visited the city, though it must have been a few hundred years ago for sure. He just never really liked it and since, what the humans called a ‘industrial revolution’, the city was even more crowded and overwhelming for Xiao. “Welcome to the Wangshen Funeral Parlor, how may I help you?”, a young person greeted Xiao as he set foot into the building. At the enthusiastic way the person greeted him as he entered a funeral home, Xiao was sure this was one of Hu Taos descendants. He barley could imagine anyone else be so happy surrounded by death. “Are you the director?”, Xiao asked in his usual stern voice. “The 107th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, yep that’s me!” “I may need your assistance.” “Wonderful, I’m always happy to help- oh well, not happy as I am happy for your loss, my condolences by the way, but in happy as I am happy that I can be of help. So, what do you need help with? We have some wonderful new coffins out of a wonderful wood, really they are also very comfortable, not that comfort is that important for someone who’s dead, but I thought it might be also of interest to say that they are really comfort-“, ah yes, Xiao thought, definitely related to Hu Tao. “I don’t need a coffin”, he interrupted the young director. “Oh, um… what can I help with then?”, they asked and then Xiao explained everything to them. At first, he wasn’t sure of the director would be of help, most humans have long forgotten the existence of the gods and adepti, as most of them died or lived a life among humanity, but sure enough the director did turn out to be well versed with the forgotten knowledge of the world. “So, you say the ghost is just roaming around those woods? Nothing else happens?”, the director asked, sitting in their chair in the back office of the Parlor, and they had their hand on their chin, looking like they were thinking about something “Will you be of help now or why do you keep repeating the same useless questions?”, Xiao became a bit impatient now. He just needed to know if someone was able to help you. Without even answering the question the director stood up from the chair and walked towards a bookshelf, pulling a big and old looking book out and opening it up on the table. “Mmmh, from what you’ve described it seems to be nothing to grave, they don’t seem to have become an evil spirit just yet, moreover it seems like they are just one who got lost, though it is surprising that after such a long time the spirit didn’t just turned into something malicious. Normally for most human ghosts it takes a few hundred years until they go insane and well, you know all too well what then happens with an evil spirt I guess.” Xiao was aware what happened to the evils in the world, because it was mostly him. Though he didn’t like to think about it what it would have meant if you- no, he didn’t even want to finish that thought. “How do I help them?”, he didn’t care about any of the other information, he just wanted to find a way to help you. The director pointed at a passage in the book in front of them and continued. “What we have to do is easy if you think about it, I just need something that belonged to the deceased they held dear, a few materials like Qingxin flowers, around twenty should be enough, and the next part is more tricky if you don’t know the deceased that well, which shouldn’t be a problem here, but we need to, well you need to, speak some words that you know are important to them. A story or something like that, sometimes even the voice of a loved one is enough to help to guide the spirits back. Though I will definitely have to accompany that spirit to the border, just to make sure it won’t happen again, you know getting lost, because I can’t guarantee this method will help a second time.” Xiao was quiet. Something that belonged to them, when the director said

those words, his hand immediately flew up to the necklace with the small pendant he wore. Xiao wasn’t the most adept with words, he rather enjoyed listening to what you had to say to him most of the time. He enjoyed the sound of your voice; it was so much more pleasant than his own. One day, Xiao still remembers it so well, your voice said something he did not expect for you to say. “Xiao, I love you.” It took him by surprise, standing on the balcony of the Wangshu Inn, watching the night sky… he suspected that you liked him that way, he did too. Oh, but how he hoped that you wouldn’t say anything about it, like he planned too. Your openness scared him. The idea of being loved scared him, for what was there to love about him? He didn’t want to be a burden to you, his karmic debt, his burden – he feared it would all just make you hate him one day if he let you see it all. That night, after you said these words, Xiao disappeared without a word from your sight. He wasn’t far away, but he wished back then that he teleported out of his hearing range. The sobs that came from you after his departure broke Xiaos heart. After this he avoided you, which wasn’t too hard because you did the same thing too. But with every day that passed when Xiao didn’t see you, hear your voice, his heart grew heavier. Asking himself if he really did do the right thing. Verr Goldet approached Xiao a few weeks after your confession, inquiring why now you didn’t come to the Inn anymore. Xiao did not answer her question, but Verr was a smart woman and at the look in his eyes she understood. “Don’t give up someone you love, only because you are scared of the love you both feel for each other, Xiao”, was all she said. This was the final push for Xiao to finally get over himself and embrace the feelings he felt for you. He didn’t know anymore where the idea came from, but he decided to gift you a handmade necklace along side his confession. Xiao was scared that it might be too late for telling you that he felt the same. However, he knew he had to do it and he wanted to give you something that showed you how he felt too. So Xiao collected the material all around from Liyue, creating a metal necklace and using a small piece of Cor Lapis, your favourite you told him once, as the pendant. With that he looked for you, finding you sitting in the middle of a flower field. “(Y/N)”, he said, stopping himself from continuing when he saw how you jumped at your own name. “Xiao! You scared me!”, you quickly stood up and turned around to him. Xiao wasn’t the most adept with words, he enjoyed listening to you – but you stayed quiet after facing him and you kept quiet when Xiao came closer. “I-“, he began, but unable to speak the words he so wished you to hear from him. Instead, he took your hand and put the necklace in it. “I- I made you this,” was all he could say, feeling how fast his heart pounced in his chest. The look in your eyes, Xiao saw the love you felt for him in them. “Xiao, I-“, he saw how you viewed the necklace in your hand, tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes. Before you were able to finish the sentence or let the tears fall down, Xiao took your face in his hands and kissed you. Yes, he wasn’t the most adept with words, but he learned that he could show you how much he loved you in other ways.

From that day on you wore that necklace every single day, never taking it off since Xiao but it on you after the shared kiss. You joked that it was a physical representation of your love for each other, though Xiao felt like you actually meant it. And somehow it really was. Xiao remembered how that necklace was still around you neck when he took your body to Hu Tao, he remembered that it was covered with your blood. He didn’t even think about taking it off you. It was Hu Tao who gave him that necklace after your burial and since then he hadn’t taken it off. It was the last thing he had of you, the last reminder of your love for each other and every night after your death, when he cowered in pain because of his karmic debt, the cool touch of the stone on his skin helps him to stay sane. Just like the flute he heard even long before he met you.

When Xiao and the director arrived at the forest, they collected the flowers on their way, he could see your ghost again. Walking around, calling for him. His heart breaks every time he had to witness your suffering. “Okay, we have the flowers… do you have something that belonged to them with you, Xiao?”, the director asked, and Xiao shifted his focus from you to them. Slowly he took the necklace off, feeling somehow so vulnerable without it, and gave it to the director. “You know where they start their walk and end it right?”. Yes, Xiao knew that. He had watched over your ghost for the past couple of weeks and noticed that you were walking in circles, without even knowing so it seemed, starting from the place you died and ending up there again. Although your body was buried in another part of Liyue and already long gone, taken back by nature, you stayed here. Where you died. Xiao wished he had come here earlier. Together with the director Xiao made his way to the place where your life ended and your endless suffering in a sort of limbo started, laying down the flowers and the necklace. “And how is that supposed to help them now?”, he asked, not sure how any of this will work. “Like I said, we put down something that belonged to them and was important because they will gravitate to the feelings still connected with that object. The flowers are helping, because they built a bridge between the living realm and what state they are in. Now we just need some words that they have a connection with, in the past it used to be certain prayers because people kept using them a lot, but you know it honestly doesn’t matter what you say, it just needs to be connected to them in some way. Maybe their favourite story or a lullaby, there are many possibilities.” “A lullaby, huh,” this was something Xiao hadn’t thought about in a long time. “Xiao, are you alright?”, he heard your voice from across the dark room. It was the middle of the night, normally he would be out killing monsters, but for tonight you were able to make him sleep with you. When you found out that he never sleeps you were shocked, though he tried to calm you saying that an adeptus didn’t need to sleep. “Maybe you don’t need to,” you told him with a stern look, hands on your hips, “but it will be good for you too, believe me!”. And somehow, after each of you confessed the feelings for the other, you were able to make him sleep next to you some nights. Just for that night his karmic debt plagued Xiao. He sat in front of your window, trying to keep his distance from you, not wanting to disturb your sleep and he didn’t want to worry you. “Xiao?”, you asked again, but instead of an answer Xiao growled in pain. Suddenly you were beside him. “Don’t”, he said through gritted teeth as you tried to touch him. “You’re in pain, let me help you.” He saw your worried painted face, ashamed that you had to see him like this. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. Don’t worry.” “Don’t tell me not to worry when I see the person I love most suffering,” and with that you took his hand. “Please Xiao, let me help you.” Even when he wasn’t in such a weakened state it was hard for Xiao to refuse you and now – all he wished for was your comforting touch. You led Xiao back to bed and when you noticed how he had a fever you quickly prepared a cold and wet towel for him. As you both lied down in bed you took Xiao in your arms. “I don’t know if this will help,” you began after a short amount of silence, “but when I was a child my mother always used to sing this lullaby to help me fall asleep. She even continued singing it when we were older and got sick… it always helps me feel better and at ease, shall I sing it to you?”. Xiao only gave a small nod, not believing it would help when you sang that song for the first time. But it did, you soothed his pain and helped him fall asleep. From that night on you would sing it more often to Xiao, he never asked for it but you somehow always knew when he wished to hear it, especially on the nights when is karmic debt caused him great pain. That lullaby became

another sign of how much you loved each other – the necklace was Xiaos gift, the song yours.

Now there he stood, in this forest that once was just a plain field, the flowers and necklace to his feet singing that lullaby. Xiao never sang it when you were alive, he never sang at all. No matter how much you begged him to sing for you, this was something he always refused to do. Thinking about how beautiful your voice sounded, he never wanted to soil this song with his voice.

It felt like you screamed for Xiao for hours and hours on end, but your voice doesn’t hurt. Where were you? What had happened? In your head you repeated and repeated the last things you could remember again and again. You were walking in the fields, wanting to collect some crystal flies for a commission. Then you remembered that you were attacked, who or what attacked you slipped your mind. However, the fight was tedious and hard… and then you called for Xiao. That’s it. That’s all you could remember. But where was he? Where was Xiao? Didn’t he say he would always come when you called out for him? Why didn’t he come now? You feared that he was still angry with you, though you didn’t know anymore why he even should be angry with you in the first place. The two of you had a fight yes, but… was that it? You spend so much time apart, did he just decide you weren’t worth his time anymore? Did he maybe stop loving you? Those thoughts filled you with dread and you wanted to cry, cry at the thought of Xiao not loving you anymore, but somehow you couldn’t. So you kept calling for him, over and over again. “Xiao,” you screamed. “XIAO!” And then you heard something, at first you weren’t sure what it was, but there was a noise. You stopped calling out for him, trying to focus on where the sound came from, following the direction. It got louder and – was that Xiao singing? The closer you came towards the sound, towards Xiaos voice singing that lullaby… your mothers’ lullaby, the lullaby that became yours and Xiaos. Which he always refused to sing, no matter how much you pleaded. The closer you came you started to remember the things that happened more clearly. How you didn’t want to call for Xiao at first that day, how something hit you in your stomach and how you felt the blood gusher out of you. Yes, you remember how you couldn’t stand anymore and all that was on your mind was Xiao, you wanted to see him again. Just once. You wanted to tell him how sorry you were, how stupid it was for you to fight and how stupid it was to wait this long to call for him. You wanted to say this to him, all of it. But all you remember you said was his name. “Xiao.”

He stopped singing, his head flying up seeing your ghost stand right in front of him. His name. You just said his name. “Xiao,” you said it again, this time he heard you say it clearly and you looked right at him, not through. “(Y/N)”, it came more out as whisper. This is what he wanted. He wanted you to see him, to get out of that limbo, but why does it still hurt as much? “Ah, seems like it worked, great!”, the director interrupted the moment, looking at Xiao and the ghost of you. “I ummm- I’m gonna leave the two of you alone for a while, so you can talk things out, say your goodbyes, yadayadayada.” With that the director walked away and it was just you and Xiao.

“I-“, Xiao began, but somehow his voice failed him. What was there to say? What should he say? “Xiao,” he heard the hesitance in your voice. “Xiao, I am dead, right?”. He couldn’t stand looking at you, his eyes avoiding yours as he gave his short answer. “Yes.” “I see,” you replied quietly. You slowly started to remember the nights you stood on the field, waiting for him to come. “Why,” you weren’t sure if you wanted an answer to your question, “why didn’t you come? After, you know… I- I waited for you. I called you. Why-?”. “I felt guilty. It was my fault, if I just hadn’t tried to push you away again, then you wouldn’t have died, I’m so sorry,” his voice was so quiet, but you could hear how he tried to hold back the tears. “Xiao,” at hearing his name again he looked back at you, you now seeing the tears that pooled at the corner of his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you… and I should have called for you earlier. But Xiao,” you saw how the tears started to fall down his face, “it wasn’t your fault.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, Xiao fell to his knees, hands in his face and crying. “Please,” he sobbed. “Please, forgive me. I should have protected you that day, I should have come here earlier and see what was happening… please, forgive me.” You walked towards Xiao, reaching out your hand, wanting to touch him. Wanting to take him in your arms, but you couldn’t. It broke your heart. “Xiao, please, please look at me,” he did, his eyes red and filled with his tears. “There is nothing to ask for forgiveness for, you did nothing wrong Xiao. It’s alright. I’m sorry for leaving so soon, for running away that day we had this stupid fight. I don’t even know what it was about…”. “I don’t know either”, Xiao admitted and somehow you had to laugh a bit at that. None of you ever remembered why you fought even in the first place, all of this nearly felt so normal. But it wasn’t. Xiao wiped away the tears from his eyes and stood up again, this time to be able to face you. You looked just like he remembered, except for the see-through part but… your smile hasn’t changed. Even if this was a sad one. “Xiao, how much time has passed since I died?” That question surprised him. “Around…”, he was hesitant to tell you the truth. Should he really tell you? “Xiao,” and you looked at him and he knew that he couldn’t hide the truth. “A thousand years perhaps.” Thousand years, you thought. For thousand years he walked around with this guilt, for thousand years he kept that necklace that still was on the ground… for thousand years he lived his life, still mourning you it seemed. “Did you get over me?”. Again, another question he didn’t expect. Why were you asking him this? Did he get over you? “No, every single day since you died you were on my mind, I couldn’t forget you and I do not wish to. I can never get over you.” This wasn’t the answer you hoped for. “Xiao, I’ve been dead for thousand years. Even if I hadn’t died that day, I would have died on another one. Thousand years compared to what, sixty? Maybe seventy years if I had lived a full life is nothing. Humans are weak after all, aren’t we?”. You didn’t mean to stir him up with your last comment, it was more intended as a joke, alas a sad one, but somehow you struck a nerve within him. “No, they are not. I always said that, but I was wrong (Y/N). I don’t understand how you human can live your life, knowing that you will die, that those you love will inevitably die. How you can idly sit next to people you care about forgetting important things, things about themselves, struggle to remember who they are, seeing them die… and you move forward. I watched over you humans for such a long time, protecting you and I still- I don’t understand how. How can they love again? Where does the strength come from to keep moving forward?”, Xiao’s voice was full of pain, you heard it clear as day, seeing how tears rolled down his face again. You felt that there were even other things weighing heavy on him, not only you, but you knew that you couldn’t comfort him. That this was

something he needed to figure out himself. “Xiao, you will learn. You will understand it one day, it just takes time.” Your voice heavy with sadness and oh, how you wished you could take him in your arms, wipe his tears away and kiss him.

Before Xiao could reply anything in return the director disturbed the two of you again. “So, are you ready now?”, looking directly at you. “No, but I stayed here for far too long now, didn’t I?”, a sad smile coming across your face. You really didn’t want to leave, but you knew you couldn’t stay any longer. It was time. “I will come with you as far as I can,” Xiao had wiped his tears away and stood now right next to you. If you still had a body your shoulders would touch.

Xiao and the director accompanied you to the border of life and death in silence. Before you crossed it you looked at Xiao. He looked so sad, as if he was to lose you a second time. “I wish,” you heard him say, “that you could stay just a bit longer. I know it’s selfish, but I just wished you could have stayed by my side forever. But you can’t stay, and you shouldn’t.” “Xiao, I feel the same. I wish I could have spent eternity with you, but I can’t and it okay. I just want to ask you for one thing, one last promise before I go, okay?”. Xiao looked at you with a heavy heart. “Yes.” “Promise me you will try to find happiness for yourself again, okay? Promise me you will love again, please. Don’t stay alone.” Silently Xiao looked at you to then finally say “I promise.” “Thank you Xiao,” Archons, you wished you could take his hand. “Now then,” you said looking in the directions you had to go. “Time to go.” “(Y/N)”, you heard Xiao say before you left. “I love you.” “I love you too, Xiao.” As Xiao and the director left the border, he stayed quiet, the atmosphere being quite sombre. “Maybe,” the director pulled Xiao out of his thoughts, “there is nothing behind the border and they stopped existing completely. But maybe their soul will now find a way back to you, just in another way? Who knows,” and with that the director left. Xiao didn’t know if he believed that you would find a way back to him, but as it started to rain and as it fell down on his skin, Xiao felt now lighter as if a heavy burden was taken off of him. With that he started to move forward again.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part VI

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1567.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

________

You spent the rest of your evening like a somnambulist, barely able to concentrate on your projects before you went to bed, barely finishing half of the things you planned for today. Even the change of locks didn't make you as happy as you thought it would. It felt like something between a dream and a nightmare.

Lying in the dark, you stared at the ceiling, thinking of what happened just a couple of hours ago. Why did he do it? Was it just out of habit and didn’t mean anything? Naturally, with his appearance and easy-going attitude, he probably dated many girls and didn’t think much before kissing someone he liked.

Remembering the way he talked to you in the morning, you thought he must have pretended to be shy around you. Thor certainly wasn’t sheepish.

Was it all a sham? Was Loki right about all of them, playing their roles to get close to you? You couldn’t forget the way Thor looked the moment he told you about being smart. It was like something switched inside him, and for a second you saw the real Thor who was far from being your simple, good-natured athlete.

Why did you keep thinking about that stupid kiss even after seeing the man could be dangerous?

Aroused and angry, you tossed and turned until you fell asleep.

____________

Waking up was especially tough, despite the fact you didn't really do much yesterday, meaning you were going to spend your weekend studying. Shoot, and that's when you planned to visit that new chocolate boutique in the city. Maybe you could still make it if you spent more time studying today?

But then again, going to the city alone might be a bad idea. Even if the guys who stole your things were beaten, it didn't mean it had always been the same people following you. The school was full of weirdos, in the end. What if somebody went after you? Steve would definitely say you had to bring one of your guards with you.

Damn. It was better staying in the dorm then.

"Good morning! Are you ready?" Peter's voice broke through the silence, and you flinched, hurriedly applying some lipstick because you didn't have enough time to put your makeup properly.

Well, at least you were fully dressed.

"Just give me a second!" Picking up your bag, you put your shoes on and opened the door, looking at a young guy who's face was lit up like a Christmas tree. "Hi!"

He definitely liked what he saw, and you felt your cheeks growing hot from embarrassment. From the very start of the semester Peter acted very sweet around you, and you thought you could be friends with him. He wouldn't do something as ugly as blackmailing, would he? Thor said it too. Clearly, Steve was exaggerating.

"Did you sleep well? I've heard you changed your lock, so now it'll be better."

"Ugh, I hope so. But I still sleep with my dresser blocking the door." Sighing, started walking, afraid to look in the faces of other students, hurrying off to school.

They must have been disgusted, watching you being friendly with one guy after being all lovey-dovey with the other just yesterday. Although you didn't see anyone in particular, you were sure somebody saw Thor kissing you. And now you were walking the corridors with Peter.

"By the way, what's your Insta?"

What? Your Instagram? Whatever for? Although you had no idea why he needed it, you let him add you, by the time leaving the dorm and walking towards the main building.

Suddenly, Peter got pretty close, his arm on your waist as he lifted up his phone and hummed, "Look here and smile!"

Before you realized what he was doing, the boy kissed your temple, and you heard the sound of a photo being taken by his front-facing camera. What the Hell?!

"Peter!" Pissed at him, you quickly break free and stepped back, but he was already looking at his phone, editing the photo and posting it almost immediately.

You heard your phone buzz when he marked you on the photo.

"That's a good one. You look very cute here."

"What are you doing?!"

"Making a proof we're dating, of course?"

You were taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, and Peter smiled from ear to ear like an excited teenager, showing you the picture: it wasn't that bad, and you looked as if you were slightly embarrassed by Peter's closeness. Oh, of course. He had to convince his friends he was dating you, but he didn't kiss you on the lips that could make other people too suspicious. Instead, friends of Barnes or, say, Thor, would still think it was all for show, and it was their friend who dated you for real.

Shit, Steve's plan was incredibly complicated, and you didn't like it at all.

"Oh, alright." You mumbled, lowering your eyes to the ground, and Peter laughed.

"We'll make a TikTok dance later. If you wanna make people talk, just use your social media." He winked at you and put the phone in the pocket of his pants, resuming walking, and you moved along, your face still hot.

God, what did these guys got you into? You felt like you were lost in the middle of a play, not even having a script to read what was your role in all this.

Before you parted your ways, going to a different classrooms, Peter talked about videogames, the upcoming Resident Evil - apparently, his favorite franchise - and some Dota tournament, but you didn't know much about it, and Peter offered to show you his favorite games "because you can't spend all your time studying!"

He was as careless and sweet as always, but you couldn't get Steve's words out of your mind. Damn, if only you could know for sure that Peter didn't blackmail anyone. Who could you talk to about it? Obviously, not Peter himself, but every time he spoke you had that nagging feeling you needed to talk to him. You barely kept your mouth shut before he went to a different room.

Ugh, why didn't you transfer anywhere else when you still had a chance? Obviously, now you could only drop out of school, and it definitely wasn't something you were going to do.

Luckily, the next couple of hours you were busy with your classes, trying your best to prepare for the upcoming exams. The academy held high standards, and even though you were a good student, it still took lots of efforts to keep up the good work. How Thor even managed to get enrolled, judging by the fact he hated studying and often skipped classes?

Ah yes, he mentioned something about getting a scholarship from the academy for his success in the sport.

By the lunch time you were drained, listening to Peter chatting with an absent-mindedly epxression on your face. Funny enough, Peter's grades were better than yours, even though he spent much less time studying. What, was he some genius like Loki? You felt a little envy.

"I gotta go take my tracksuit, I have PE next," the boy said, and you nodded, throwing away the leftovers of your lunch.

As you stood close while he grabbed his sportclothes, you heard two guys talking behind the lockers to your right.

"Have you seen her today? She's with Parker!"

You tensed immediately. Of course, they were talking about you.

"Yeah, so what?"

"She was with Thor yesterday!"

Watching you froze on the spot, Peter stilled too, listening carefully. Oh shit, you hoped no one cared about who you went with - why should they, in the end - but, apparently, you were drawing too much attention simply because you were a girl among hundreds of male students.

"So what?" The other guy asked impatiently, growing tired of this conversation.

"Are you stupid? She's going out with them! I bet she's looking for a guy." The first student said with excitement, and you cringed. No, you weren't going out with anyone, you wanted to stop the weirdos from following you and steeling your things. Was it too much to ask?

"Yeah, who cares?"

"We have three fucking girls in the whole school, and you don't care if one of them could be going out with you? Besides, this one's pretty. I'd fuck her!"

You felt like you were going to puke any moment. Why on Earth did you decide to transfer to an all-boys school? It was like the whole school were a men’s room filled with stupid-ass guys, and you were locked inside, forced to listen them talk junk.

"You'd fuck a sheep, weirdo. Go get yourself a girlfriend if you can’t stop thinking with your dick.”

Laughing, the guy left, and his friend followed him, shouting something stupid while you breathed out a sigh of relief. Of course, you knew there would be some talk, but you didn’t expect it to be so... gross. Were you really gonna spend the two remaining years here?

Watching you getting frustrated, Peter gently touched you by the arm and said softly, “Don’t worry. They won’t talk rubbish about you.”

“What do you mean?” Suddenly thinking of Steve’s words, you blurted out exactly what you were thinking of the whole day, “Are you going to blackmail them with something?”

“I... what?”

Part VII

__________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi

[mystery-star]

Waiting for you - Spock

Pairing: Spock x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: mentions of injury and death

Words: 1838

Star Trek universe: AOS

A/N: Just a lil thing I wrote because I haven’t written (at least for Spocko) in ages. And didn’t feel like writing on a series.

-

“She’s here. She’s here” you heard someone shouting beside you and looked around and finally you could see the Enterprise approaching in one of many tunnels above you. You smiled and stepped forward a little and waited for the crew to dismount. When you saw the first of them, your smile got broader and you got onto your tiptoes to look out for your husband. Not many people of the Enterprise had someone waiting for them and those who did seemed overjoyed. It made you look down for moment because you had a feeling that Spock wouldn’t greet you like others greeted their loved ones. Finally, you could see him and slightly raised your hand, hoping he’d see you. When he did, he came straight towards you, stopping half a meter in front of you

“(Y/N)” he said “What brings you to Yorktown?”

“I’ll give you three guesses” you replied and just threw yourself around his neck “I’ve missed you, Spock” you breathed against his skin and he hugged you back slightly.

“Am I therefore right to conclude that you came here in order to see me during my shore leave?”

“Right” you let go of him but only that you could kiss him. He cupped your face and kissed you back. At some point his hand found yours, slowly stroking his first two fingers against yours. But then he pulled away from you all of a sudden, just holding your hand. You turned around and saw two older Vulcans behind you.

“Commander, might we have a word? Alone?” you wanted to ask why you couldn’t come when Spock threw a glance at you and squeezed your hand

“Do you mind?”

“Just be quick” you pecked his cheek “I’ll be waiting for you, okay?” you handed him a keycard of the hotel where you had booked a room for you both. He gave a nod, then let go of your hand and followed the two men. With a sigh you looked after him and returned to the hotel, knowing he would be clever enough to find it when he was done.

But he only came when it was dark and you were already in bed, reading a magazine on your PADD.

“Have you been waiting with sleeping until I return?”

“Well, you got some days of shore leave, then I won’t see you for another two years. I want to use every minute with you that I can” he gave a nod and sat down on the bed, placing a device on the nightstand. “What did they want?”

“I will tell you in the morning”

“Alright” you put the PADD aside and stretched yourself a little before sitting up, crawling closer to him and wrapping your arms around him again, kissing him. “We now have better things to do, don’t you think?” he kissed you back and placed one of his hands in the small of your back, pulling you closer while he ran his other hand over the side of your face. After the kiss he leaned his forehead to yours and you bumped his nose with yours. “Did you have fun out there on the mission?”

“I have written and called you three times per week, as we have agreed on, and informed you about what you call ‘adventures’ and have also answered each question concerning them I was allowed to answer”

“Well yes but your last message was two days ago. I need a recap of the past two days. Or retell me your favorite mission. Doing it face-to-face is much better” you pecked his lips. He gave a nod, pulled you into his lap and started telling you how the Captain had attempted to make peace between two species that didn’t work out as planned. Then he went on to their arrival to Yorktown and suddenly his communicator beeped “Tell me that’s your private comm”

“It is not�� he leaned forward to get it and you just wanted to stop him but let it happen with a sigh. Placing you back on the bed, he gave your hand a squeeze, took the comm, opened it and left the room. With a sigh you fell back on the bed, glancing to the PADD and considering if you should continue reading but then looked at the ceiling, repeating everything you had planned to do with Spock in the following days in your mind. Soon Spock returned and you sat up with a smile but his words ruined it “I must go”

“Go? Go where? Aren’t you on shore leave?”

“I am. However, there is a matter that requires my assistance”

“What is it?”

“I cannot tell you much but I must leave Yorktown”

“You’re shitting me”

“I do not joke”

“But… but… will you at least get that time off later on? How long will you be gone?”

“I suppose it should not take longer than 36 hours”

“Oh well…. Then you owe me yet another debriefing upon your return” he gave a nod, came closer to put his comm on his nightstand and pecking your forehead.

“Please make yourself a pleasant day tomorrow”

“Okay. And then I’ll be waiting here for you… again”

-

But Spock didn’t come home the evening or morning after he had left, so you decided to make yourself another nice day exploring another area of Yorktown. In the late afternoon, you suddenly heard how the station went on alert and after looking around you saw that a swarm of tiny ships tried attacking Yorktown. Around you everyone was in panic, screaming, rallying kids and running away while you stood there frozen, staring at the many little ships on the other side of Yorktown.

“We have to leave. Come. Now” someone next to you shouted, pulling on your arm

“Can we go somewhere safe? Like a… bunker?”

“A bunker on a Starbase?” the man started laughing slightly and shook his head.

“Or can we do something? Something to help? Is there a defense station or militia? Or help evacuate people?”

“That’s Starfleet’s business” as if on cue, there was an announcement, informing the public that there was an attack and that you should not panic. You let out a snort and watched how the people around you seemed to panic even more. You looked around and finally saw a security, officer, going over to him.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all be safe, just stay calm and…”

“No, I wanted to ask if I can help something.”

“Help?”

“Yeah. Weapons, evacuate people or something” he looked at you, considered it a while then said he’d have to check it out. But before he could return, they managed to somehow blow up all the small ships. Somehow you couldn’t believe that this was everything and sure enough, there was another announcement informing the public that a great part of the ship had been destroyed but that three of them had gotten into Yorktown but that they still had the situation under control and would do everything to stop them. For some reason, you found that three ships hand entered Yorktown almost worse than the initial attack. Because you knew there probably wasn’t much you could do unless the ships came to that part of Yorktown, you sat down in a café, ordered a drink and watched the news on the big screen that gave a permanent update on the situation at the other end of Yorktown. Not even 15 minutes later, you heard that everyone was out of danger and the intruders had been rendered harmless. After a sigh, you finished your drink and then returned to the scene of the action, maybe there now was something you could help, like tidying up damage or helping the wounded. You stayed there and helped until it was dark and the volunteers were sent home, so you returned to the hotel. But you didn’t get far and the receptionist called you over.

“You are (Y/N) (Y/L/N), right?”

“That’s me, yeah”

“I have message for you, from a doctor Leonard McCoy”

“I know him. He’s the doctor on the Enterprise. What is this message about?”

“He lets you know, that your husband… Commander Spock will spend the night in Yorktown hospital”

“Ho-hospital? They’re back? What does he have? Is it bad? Can I visit him? When did they get back?”

“He only told me that so you know where your husband is and in case you wish to see him. I don’t know anything else” you nodded and with a thank-you you ran out of the hotel, to the hospital, where you had brought a few people earlier today. You went to a visitor station to register your visit and once you knew where your husband was and that he currently could be visited, you rushed to the elevator and then to his room. When you saw Spock lying in bed awake, you let out a deep breath and moved closer.

“Spock” you breathed, not sure what to say and having a hundred questions at the tip of your tongue. "How are you?” was the first you asked

“I am well, (Y/N). The doctors insisted I stayed the night to ensure that my condition does not become worse” you nodded and came closer, taking his hand, pressing a kiss to it as you sat down on the edge of the bed. To your delight, he squeezed your hand.

“What happened? To you, I mean?” he explained how on the mission his side was impaled by a piece of metal and that McCoy didn’t have the correct equipment to properly treat him. “At least you’re safe” you ran your free hand through his hair. “When did you even get back?”

“4.2 hours ago”

“That was… that was when the attack happened” he agreed and said it was them who played a great role in stopping them. “Oh so that big ship that destroyed the central plaza was you, the Franklin?”

“Indeed”

“And what about the Enterprise?”

“She has been destroyed”

“Oh no. What about the crew? Are they safe?”

“We have not yet been able to ascertain who has survived the attack on the Enterprise and who lost their life, however, I am certain that at least 350 people have survived”

“Out of 428 that’s still a lot that could have died”

“Besides, I also know of at least 16 casualties from the crew” you gave a nod

“And what now? I mean is your mission over? The Enterprise is gone”

“We do not know yet but it is certain that we will remain her for longer than the originally scheduled 12 days of shore leave”

“Well, then we got more time to do something as long as we’re here. And I get to see you longer. Ha that visit was worth it” you leant down to kiss his forehead. “Now we just gotta make sure you’ll be on your feet as soon as possible because I have lot planned for the next days”

-

Taglist: @softsapphicideals

[weelittleweasley]

masquerade (d.m.)

prompt as requested by anon: draco malfoy was your rival in slytherin house. both of you ambitious, bold, and daring. as one of the few pureblood slytherin families left, you promised yourself that you would continue your lineage, but not with scum like malfoy. instead, you would meet a suitor at the annual masquerade ball hosted by the malfoys each year. but what if your prospective suitor is someone you didn’t expect...

pairing: draco malfoy x fem! pureblood slytherin reader

warnings: language

word count: 8.7k

author’s note: let’s say this takes place around 7th year (no voldy) right after the reader’s 18th birthday. also--i took the liberty of naming the reader’s parents just for sake of making things less confusing. 

you guys...would you want a second part to this? i may have an idea for a sequel? depends on how you all like it, but this...kinda went hard ngl

here is a playlist that i found on spotify that works well with the fic! credits to owner! 

Rivalry; nothing like it. It gave you a reason to work harder, faster, and stronger than your rival. You were taught at a very young age that you should never surrender to someone who tries to make you feel inferior. And you took that to heart throughout your time at Hogwarts. You fought wisely with your charisma and charm, earning you the highest marks at school. You were a prefect, one of the top five students in your graduating class, and you were already making plans for your future. 

But that didn’t mean that there weren’t any challenges in your way. Many obstacles stood in your path of achieving greatness. One of those obstacles named Draco Malfoy. The two of you came from pureblood Slytherin families who had been fighting for power that dated back hundreds of years. That only meant that when you both entered Hogwarts in the same year, you had a rival to beat. But Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew how to keep up with you, sometimes surpassing you. Draco was also a prefect alongside you, one place higher than you in your class ranking, and not to mention, Professor Snape’s favorite student.

It drove you ballistic that no matter what you did, you couldn’t outsmart Malfoy. He was always one step ahead of you. He anticipated your every move as if he had studied you for years. But you had something on your side that Draco didn’t expect; divine feminine energy.

You would never fall for Malfoy, not in a million years. But that was exactly the point. Use what you have that Draco wants to your advantage. Your mother always told you that women had the energy of a thousand suns in their eyes and could burn anyone they wanted with just a stare. So that’s exactly what you did throughout Hogwarts. Burn Malfoy.

With just a look in the halls, you would set the boy on fire. With rage, with envy, with frustration, and with passion. You wanted no more but to see the boy fail. But failure wasn’t in Draco’s vocabulary. Needless to say, your time at Hogwarts became full of push and pull between the both of you. A rivalry of the ages.

It was exhausting, being tasked with rivalry at school, but you were thankful when winter break rolled around. You sat in your family’s manor house, the roaring fireplace in front of you as you read an alluring book. The crackling fire warmed up your chilly toes as a green velvet blanket rested over your shoulders. During break, you didn’t have to worry about Malfoy or his every move. You could enjoy yourself. 

As you read, you can hear the footsteps of someone descending the stairs. “(Y/N), dear,” your mother’s voice calls out. 

“In the drawing room, Mother!” you call back.

Soon enough, there your mother was, looking regal as ever as you smiled. Your mother was truly a force to be reckoned with. She stood in front of you, in a beautiful black gown, trimmed with gold and silver, your family crest embroidered above her left breast. Her hair was styled away from her face to reveal her youthful looking face. She was stunning to say the least. “I have news, darling,” she smiles, approaching you before taking a spot on the loveseat that you rested on.

You close your book and smile as you mother sits behind you, combing through your hair, something you always found relaxing. “I hope it’s good news, I could use some,” you tease her, earning a small giggle.

As she combs through your hair with her fingers, she speaks, “As you know, the annual masquerade ball occurs around this time of year.” You remembered watching your parents get ready for the ball as a child. You would sit next to your mother’s vanity and watch her delicately make up her face as her ladies’ maid did her hair. Your mother always wore a beautiful gown from the finest silk, adorned with jewels or lace or whatever she fancied. You remember your father told your mother she could get whatever she liked; your father wanted nothing but your mother to be satisfied. “The ball is open to any pureblood Slytherin who has reached the age of eighteen. And since you’ve have your eighteenth birthday not too long ago, you are eligible to attend,” you can hear the excitement in your mother’s voice. It had always been her dream to see you attend the ball. And yours to attend it.

You smile widely, “I’m delighted. We’ll need to contact the seamstress now if I want a dress in time.”

Chuckling, your mother places her hands on your shoulder. “Yes, yes, dear. But before we talk about what you are wearing, we must discuss the details,” she informs as you sigh. You just wanted to get to the fun part. “The masquerade ball is not just a party, but a tradition. The ball was made for young pureblood Slytherins to meet each other blindly and find a prospective partner for marriage,” you mother reveals as your heart stops.

A partner for marriage? You had just turned eighteen and now you had to think about a partner? You hadn’t even graduated from Hogwarts yet.

But before you can protest the thought of courtship, your mother adds, “It’s how your father and I met in fact. We had danced the whole night and at the end of the ball, he took off my mask and we realized that we knew each other already. He was my partner in my potion’s class at Hogwarts.” She smiles at the memory. “Now, I’m not saying you need to find a fiancé, but it would be nice to be open to it. It’s tradition.”

The thought of finding a fiancé at the ball made your mind reel and your heart race. Sure, the tradition was old, but there was something romantic about it. Especially since that’s how your parents found each other. You nod your head, “Of course, Mother.”

Your mother presses a kiss to the top of your head. She opens her mouth to speak, but instead you hear another voice. “There are some fine suitors attending the ball this year,” your father speaks. He walked into the room a teasing smile on his face as you roll your eyes. “Let’s not overwhelm our daughter with the prospect that she might find her future partner, shall we, Porpentina?” your father tells your mother.

She simply sighs, “Let’s not rule it out though, Samuel. Anything can happen.”

Your father walks over to the two of you, a handsome smile on his face as he shakes his head. Your father was the smartest man you’ve ever met. He always led with logic and had a rational brain. But when it came to you, your father was putty. He loved spoiling his only child, his daughter. “Anyway, I’m glad that you’ve decided to come to ball, my dear,” your father beams as your mother squeezes your shoulders. “I’ll let Lucius and Narcissa know,” he looks to your mother with a nod.

“Wait, Lucius and Narcissa?” you freeze. Malfoy’s. “Are they coming to the ball as well? Will Draco be in attendance?” you interrogate.

Your father chuckles, “Well, I would hope so since they host the ball every year, dearest.” You scoff and let your mouth fall open. Since when was your family alright with the Malfoy's? Last time you were aware, your families despised one another. “I know, it’s strange, but over the last few years, our families have been able to be more level headed with each other. Lucius is still a fucking prick, but he’s been more tame,” your father huffs, making you laugh a bit. “But yes, Draco will be at the ball.”

You immediately rise from your seat on the hardwood floor. “Then I’m not going,” you state as your mother stares at you confused. “You know how much I hate that pretentious, loathsome boy since I stepped foot in Hogwarts. He’s rude and spiteful and inconsiderate and vile. I refuse to voluntarily be in the same room as him whilst I am supposed to be enjoying winter break. I simply refuse.”

Springing to her feet, your mother tries to reason with you. “Think about it, darling. It’s a masquerade ball. You won’t even recognize Draco. He’ll be in costume as well as everyone else. You won’t even know who is who. It’ll be a night to remember, I promise you,” your mother speaks, rubbing your arms. “Besides, I already called the seamstress and she has a beautiful design that she has custom made for you,” she wiggles her brows.

The thought of attending the ball still did excite you. Live orchestral music, beautiful gowns, champagne in golden flutes. It all sounded so regal. How could you let Draco Malfoy stand in the way of your fun? Besides, the chances of you stumbling upon Draco were slim. Sighing, you surrender, “Alright, fine. But if I so much as smell Draco Malfoy, you won’t hear the end of it.”

---------

Meanwhile, Draco stood beside his mother as servants and maids and butlers ran through the Malfoy Manor, carrying fine china, silverware, champagne flutes, and the finest decorations from around the world to decorate the manor in time for the ball. To the common person, this would all be so fantastic to watch. People decorating the manor in golds and greens, preparing for the quickly approaching festivities. But to Draco, this was normal. All the glamor and the splendor was just another day. 

Narcissa holds her son’s arm, linked with hers as she sighs, “Your first masquerade ball. You’ve grown up so quickly, my darling.” Narcissa smiles at her son inspecting his grown face. Where did her child go? All she saw was a fine man. 

Draco smiles kindly at his gentle mother. “I’m not being shipped away, Mother. It’s just a ball,” he laughs, giving her hand a squeeze. “Besides, I don’t expect to find a potential wife at the ball like Father believes...” he trails off.

The thought of marriage made Draco’s stomach churn. It wasn’t like he had a choice. Lucius Malfoy expected Draco to find a wife and a wife soon. Even though the boy hadn’t graduated, Lucius wanted to know that the Malfoy name would continue on for generations to come. He needed to ensure that his boyish son found another pureblood and produced an heir to the Malfoy name. 

Narcissa looks sadly at her son. She wanted nothing but the best for him, but also wanted the same as her husband. “Draco, dear, you know how important this ball is to your father and I. There are some perfectly sweet, beautiful girls in attendance to the ball tomorrow. What about Pansy Parkinson? Pureblood, Slytherin, comes from wealth,” Narcissa starts.

“What about her obnoxious personality or obsessive nature? Parkinson is a hard no,” Draco dismisses the notion. “Who else?”

Narcissa thinks, “The Greengrasses! Daphne will be in attendance since she just turned eighteen. Her younger sister still has a few more years before she can attend.”

Draco shakes his head, “Daphne is a good friend. It would be awkward.” Narcissa sighs and laughs lightly. “Anyone else or am I stuck with Pansy?”

Mrs. Malfoy stays quiet for a while before bringing up the next name, knowing how touchy it is for her son. “Well, I received news yesterday of another pureblood Slytherin who just turned eighteen recently who will be in attendance...” she trails off as Draco looks at his mother, intrigued and curious. “Miss (Y/L/N) will be coming...”

Draco’s face then contorts with disgust. “You invited my biggest rival to the ball?” he exclaims. “Mother, you know how I feel about her! Merlin, at this point let’s invite Potter and his friends to really spice things up shall we?” he scoffs sarcastically.

Narcissa starts, “Draco, please. I know how you feel about (Y/N), but she is a pureblood Slytherin. Her family has money and power and a title. Maybe if something happened between you tw-”

“Nothing will happen between (Y/N) and I, Mother. So don’t get your hopes up,” Draco cuts his mother off who sadly sighs. Draco monitors her sad expression before he feels guilty for his outburst. “I just cannot see myself getting past my feelings for her as they are now,” he reasons with his mother, squeezing her hand as she sadly smiles. “But I did hear that you invited some Beauxbatons to the ball,” he wiggles his eyebrows as Narcissa rolls her eyes.

-----------

Standing in your room in front of the mirror, your ladies’ maid tightened your corset as you sucked in a breath. “Too tight?” she asks, scared that she hurt her master’s child.

“No, Lottie, just fine,” you smile at her as she ties the strings to the corset before taking your gown off of its hanger. “Lottie, can I ask you a question?” you ask as she helps you step into the gown. 

Lottie smiles, “Of course, my lady. What would you like to know?”

As Lottie shimmies the dress up your body, you speak, “When you met your husband, when did you know he was the right one for you? Was there a moment? Or something he said? Or was it love at first sight?”

You hold the dress up as Lottie makes her way to the back to zip it up. “It’s more of a feeling you get in your stomach, my lady. I knew my husband was the one because I felt like my stomach was doing flips and my head was reeling. There’s no feeling quite like it,” she tells you as you smile. Love was so complicated to you. You didn’t understand how it was supposed to work. You loved knowing that there were answers to almost every problem, but when it came to love, you were clueless of its answer. “Take a look, my lady.”

Looking into the mirror, you softly smile. The strapless gown was of emerald silk, hugging your chest beautiful as it came in at the waist as it cascaded down your long legs. It wasn’t puffy or poofy or full of tule. It was sleek and sexy and mature. Your hair was straightened, but pieces fell loosely in your face, framing it. Gold eyeshadow was swept across your eyelids and your lips wore a peachy pink gloss. It was perfect. “I love it,” you smile.

“You look simply stunning,” Lottie added. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as their wife, my lady.”

You smile at Lottie, “Thank you, Lottie. Could you call my mother in please?” She curtsies before leaving you in your room. Nervously, you pace the floor, anxious for tonight’s events. Were you really expected to find a suitor? Who was  coming to the ball? Maybe someone from a different country? A bright, handsome wizard might sweep you off your feet and take you away. The thought made your heart race. 

Interrupting your thoughts, you hear a knock on the door before your mother enters. “Darling,” she sighs as you laugh. “There are no words to describe the way you look.”

You beam, “Thank you, Mother. I feel good, but I’m nervous.” She walks closer to you, concern on her face. “What if there is no one there for me? Even worse, what if there is someone there for me and I miss them?”

She shakes her head, “You cannot think of those things. (Y/N), I raised to be confident, powerful, and smart. And that’s exactly what you are plus more. Anyone with a brain and eyes will see how brilliant you are. No need to fret.” You exhale as she smiles at you. “I came in here to give you one last thing before we go,” she says as she reveals a gorgeous gold mask, adorned with pearls, diamonds, and emeralds. “It was mine when I went to my first masquerade ball. The same mask I wore when I met your father when I was eighteen. I thought that it might bring you some luck,” she tells you.

Tears start to well up in your eyes before you hug your mother tightly. “Thank you,” you whisper as she holds onto you tightly. “Thank you so much, Mom.”

Your mother gives you a squeeze. “I’m your mother. It’s what I do,” she says. “Now let’s put this on you and get ready to go. The ball waits for no one.”

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

The ball was already bustling and it had just begun a mere twenty minutes ago. Women and ladies wore beautiful gowns varying of colors and textures, adorned with jewels and precious stones. Men wore suits and capes, perfectly tailored, all very clean cut. But everyone wore a mask to conceal their identity. Each mask beautiful and intricate in design. Some masks covered their whole faces and parts of their head, other just the eyes, and some wore masks that covered their whole head. Everyone was anonymous and that just made your excited anxiety increase.

As you stepped into the Malfoy Manor, you took in your surroundings. Their home was lovely. Beautifully decorated in golds and silvers, accents of black and green. Huge diamond chandeliers came down from the ceilings and twinkled as light passed through it. A large orchestra was settled in the ballroom, playing the finest music your ears have ever heard. You swooned. This all felt like a dream. A very real dream.

At the foyer, you were greeted by a butler who took your coat and another who offered you a flute of golden champagne as you graciously accepted it with a smile and a soft thank you. Your heart fluttered as you examined the manor through your mask. 

“May I escort the two loveliest ladies into the ballroom?” your father speaks as he offers his arms to you and your mother. You smile widely at him before you made your way to the ballroom where the rest of the party was.

The ballroom was enchanting. The walls were golden adorned with the most gorgeous architecture you have ever seen. Painted ceilings of pastel colors with tall candelabras that illuminated them. The orchestra played passionately as couples ranged from ages eighteen to fifty danced across the floor, women’s dresses swaying with each elegant movement. 

Your eyes searched the dance floor, trying to see if you recognized someone’s body language or movements. But everyone looked unfamiliar to you. Almost as if there was a fog over your eyes. 

That’s when your question was answered. “There is a spell cast over the ballroom,” your mother speaks. “To ensure that no one recognizes each other until all masks are removed. When the clock strikes midnight, all masks are removed and everyone sees each other for who they truly are. Exciting, isn’t it?” your mother whispers as you smile.

It was truly a one of a kind experience. You stood and watched those who danced around you, quietly sipping on champagne. Your eyes drifted off to the sidelines as you looked at the people who were your age. Everyone looked beautiful. One girl wore a dress of ruby red and a large diamond necklace that hung gently from her neck as she made quiet chatter with what you assumed was her parents. Another boy wore a velvet suit of navy blue with shiny dress shoes. He quietly stood by himself, watching each and every lady in the room, watching out for who caught his attention. 

Every one of the age of eighteen was on a mission it seemed. These people wanted to find their partner for the night and potentially for their life. The stakes were high. It made your heart race and your adrenaline pump. Your competitive nature was coming over you; you couldn’t help it. You were determined to find someone tonight if it was the last thing you did. 

Suddenly, the music faded away and the sound of a clinking glass filled the room. “Good evening, esteemed guests,” a feminine voice called out. “Welcome to the annual masquerade ball!” she exclaims, earning claps from every corner of the ballroom. “As you all know, the ball is designed for young witches and wizards to find a partner. We welcome each of you with excitement for the journey that lies ahead of you. That being said, the time as come for the eligible witches and wizards to come onto the dance floor and mingle. Wizards, you may approach any witch who is eligible and ask to have a place on her dance card. Remember, do not tell each other of your names! The dances will begin in ten minutes, so get to talking!” Another cling resounds in the ballroom as eligible bachelorettes and bachelors flood the dance floor.

You turn to your parents and give them nervous eyes as your mother and father give you a warm smile. “You’ll be brilliant,” your father speaks as your mother grabs your champagne glass and hands you your dance card. 

With a deep breath, you shake your head and walk out to the dance floor. Your heart was thudding hard against your chest. The moment you stepped onto the floor, someone approached you. “Good evening,” the boy bows as you curtsy to him. “Might I say you look gorgeous this evening,” he compliments you.

You smile, “Thank you very much. You look very nice as well.” He wore a simple black suit and a green pocket square. The detail made you think he was definitely in Slytherin house. Was he in your year? Did you know him personally? Was it Malfoy? No, Malfoy wouldn’t be this kind to you. But then again, he didn’t know it was you. 

The boy speaks, “Could I have the pleasure of having a space on your dance card?” 

He seemed friendly and kind, there was no reason to say no. Maybe as you danced he would become more interesting. “I would be delighted,” you respond as you hand him your card. He strikes the card with two x’s before returning it to you.

“Thank you, my lady,” he bows before walking away quickly to the very next girl he laid eyes on. You were startled at how quickly you moved, but quickly realized he had prepared some sort of script to dance with as many women as possible before his time was up. Clever.

You continue to make your way around the ballroom, chatting to a few more suitors here and there. Some men you found more charming and clever than other, while others you found yourself bored of, politely dismissing their request for a place on your dance card. 

Glancing at the dance card tied around your wrist, you think to yourself about the gentlemen who asked for a space and you granted them the honor of a dance. The first space to the boy who wanted to ask every lady to a dance, the next to a tall, dark, and handsome gentleman with the deep voice, the next to a funny gentleman with a thick Scottish accent, and the last space empty. There was only two minutes left of the mingling before you were to dance with your suitors. 

Too distracted by your dance card, you bump into someone else’s body, making you stumble a bit. “Oh my days, I’m so sorry,” you apologize to the body in front of you.

You look up and meet a pair of ice blue eyes that seem to stare into your soul. Your heart stops in its chest as you suck in a breath. In that moment, it felt like the whole ballroom had stopped moving and it was just you two in time. The two of you said nothing and just looked at each other, deep into the other’s eyes. It was if the man in front of you’s eyes held all the secrets to the world. 

Clearing his throat, he speaks in a low tone, “No, I apologize. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You politely smile at him. “But in a way, I’m thankful that I wasn’t or else I wouldn’t have stumbled upon you,” he casually flirts making you blush.

The gentleman bows before you as you curtsy, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. It was like there was some sort of magnet between the two of you. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? You remember Lottie saying it should feel like there were butterflies flying around and your head should be fuzzy, but none of those sensations were happening. You just felt hot in your face and your palms were sweating, thank goodness for your long gloves. 

“I’m glad neither of us were paying attention,” you confess as he smirks. “You are much more interesting than what I was previously focused on.”

The mysterious suitor in front of you chuckles. “I can only hope that you have a spot for me saved on your dance card,” he speaks as you blush.

Teasingly you look at your dance card and fake gasp, “Well, would you look at that? One last spot saved for a special someone...” The gentleman chuckles again as he ticks off the last spot on your dance card.

He slips the card back around your wrist as you suck in a breath as he fingers touch you. “I look forward to our dance,” he bows as you reciprocate the gesture. “Until then, my lady.”

His eyes don’t leave yours until the very last moment as he walks away. You could swoon. He was charming, smooth, witty, and even though much of his face was concealed by his mask, you knew he was handsome. He just had to be. Your face felt hot and your mouth was dry. You knew that you would anxiously await him as your last dance.

With another few clinks against the glass, you are informed that it is time to start the dancing. But before people gather with their first partners, people run back over to where their parents were quietly observing. You excitedly scurry to your mother and father and small smile on your lips dancing as you approach them. Your mother smiles, “Anyone interesting?”

You don’t say a word and take a sip of the champagne that your father offered you. “I know that smile,” he beams. “Which one, darling?” You don’t speak. “Oh, tell us, dearest. We don’t know who any of them are, we are just as clueless as you.”

Sighing, you surrender. “The last gentleman. The one I bumped into.” Your mother scans the room, looking for him. “He has my interest the most out of all of them by far. If the dance goes well, I recon he’ll ask me to promenade outside,” you giggle as your mother joins you.

Your father speaks, “With a chaperone, I assume.” 

You roll your eyes as your mother slaps him on the arm. “She’s eighteen, Samuel. She can walk outside with a suitor. Besides, there is security all around the manor. She will be safe.” Your father sighs as your mother looks at you and hands you your lipgloss to reapply. “Go on. Have fun. Play the field, dearest. Remember what I taught you.”

“Yes, Mother,” you beam before heading back to the dance floor.

There, the first boy is waiting for you, his arm extended. You walk arm in arm to the dance floor as the orchestra begins to play a ballroom waltz. His arm is around your waist gently, his one hand holding onto yours as you begin to dance. “Is this your first masquerade ball?” he asks you.

You nod, “Yessir.”

He smiles, “So you’ve just turned eighteen I presume.” You nod again. “This is my fourth ball. I’m hoping to find my one and only here tonight. Do you think you have met yours?” he asks.

You are taken aback by his directness. “Um,” you stutter, “I’m not quite sure. I mean we’ve just met each other.”

He retorts, “Yes, but sometimes you just know, don’t you. You know what I mean?” His eyes are fixated on yours in a fashion that is full of anxiety and nerves as he anticipates your answer. His eyes have a tired look in them, but behind their exhaustion, there is hope.

You gulp, “Nope.” He furrows his brows. “But maybe another lady here understands what you are saying,” you remain hopeful for him as he sighs.

“I am hopeful,” he speaks. “That’s all we can be.”

Before you know it he spins you away and you land in the arms of your second suitor. The tall, dark, and handsome one. You smile as he smirks down at you. “Good evening, my lady,” he speaks in a deep tone that makes you feel like a school girl. “You are ravishing.” You kindly thank him. “So, are you here like everyone else? To find a partner?”

You speak, ��I guess so. My parents would like me to be open to the idea of finding a suitor, but I’m still young. I would like to enjoy my time as a single, free woman of my age and status.”

He nods his head. “I see, I see. My parents want me to find a wife here tonight. Me on the other hand? I really don’t want anything serious. I’m just trying to find someone to shag to be quite honest with you. I’m too young to be tied down quite yet,” he reveals as your eyes widen. His eyes on the other hand remain fixated on yours, but aren’t afraid to wander to look around at the other women on the dance floor. You watch his eyes as they occasionally find another woman’s and he drops one of them into a wink. He was a flirt, couldn’t be tied down type. Bedroom eyes that wandered through several bedrooms type eyes. You’ve dealt with those eyes before and were not looking to deal with them again.

You agreed with him on the part of being free and not finding anything too serious, but just a person to have sex with? That wasn’t what you were looking for either. “I see,” you tell him as he winks through his mask. “I’m not quite sure I want something that casual. I am looking for something more consistent, a little more serious than just a shag. More emotional intimacy as well.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs. “It’s a shame. I found you quite attractive,” he sighs.

But before you can protest, he spins you away from him and into the arms of your next caller, the funny Scot. “Hello there,” he greets you as you meet his gaze. He wears a gentle smile with kind eyes. His eyes are soft and full of childlike wonder. It makes your heart swell to see someone with such eyes. 

You softly smile at him, “Hello again.” 

The two of you dance back and forth, making light chatter here and there, him sliding in a joke when he can, earning a few giggles from you as he smiles. “How has your night been so far?” he asks you. “Has anyone caught your eye yet?”

You sigh, “The night has been tame so far, but no complaints.” He nods. “As for someone catching my eye, I cannot lie,” you smile as his interest peaks. “There was someone I met who I have my last dance with.”

The Scotsman chuckles, “That’s all you can ask for, isn’t it?”

You join in his light laugher. “What about you? Have you met someone yet?” you ask him as you continue to waltz across the ballroom.

You can see a light rosy hue appear on his cheeks as he smiles. “I have indeed,” he looks across the ballroom as you follow his line of sight. And there she was, dancing with the man you were dancing with before. The same girl from earlier with the gorgeous ruby red gown. “She’s wonderful. And I’ve only spoken to her twice and no more than a total of six minutes.”

Giving his forearm a soft squeeze, you repeat his phrase, “That’s all you can ask for, isn’t it?” He smiles. Maybe you didn’t need a suitor out of the Scot, maybe he was a good friend. 

“In that case, we both don’t mind what I’m about to do,” he speaks.

And then he spun you around and off to your last dance. 

And that’s when your eyes meet.

You inhale sharply when his hand finds the small of your back and he takes your hand in his. His eyes were still that beautiful ice blue that stared right into your soul and made you want to tell him all of your deepest darkest secrets. Eyes that could tempt you into making the most dangerous decision. Eyes that could lure you into a trap, but a trap that you wouldn’t mind being stuck in. 

He breaks the silence first. “We meet again,” he smirks as you blush lightly. The two of you begin dancing as the orchestra swells with music, almost as if they waited to play the most enchanting music right now in this moment. The violins hum a hauntingly beautiful melody as the violas and cellos support the sound. The moment was more than you could ever ask for. “I must tell you, I loathe dancing,” he whispers, making you giggle. “But somehow,” he starts. “You make it feel alright. Not good, but alright.”

You lightly laugh, “I’m glad I can make dancing tolerable for you.” The two of you continue to dance, letting your gown sweep across the floor as the music crescendos. “How has your night been so far? Enjoying yourself?” you ask, curious to know where his mind was at. It had only been minutes but you wanted to know everything about the gentleman in front of you.

The gentleman sighs, “It’s been fine. Not particularly a huge fan of balls or dances. But so far, so good.” He drops his left eye in a wink. “And yourself? How have your other dances been?” he asks you.

You bite your lip and take a moment to think. Now was not the time to play a mind game with him, though you so easily could. But you let your heart get ahead of your head and speak, “None of them as good as compared to this one.” The gentleman laughs, turning away from you in order for you to not catch his delighted blush on his white cheeks. “And your other dances? Did they make dancing more or less tolerable?” you joke with him.

Before the gentleman answers, he looks at the ground with a small smile. He looks up at you and gulps. “I actually didn’t ask anyone else to dance. Just you,” he reveals, making you breath hitch in your throat. That was quite the confession. “No other lady caught my eye like you did.” You don’t turn away when you blush at his flirtations. His eyes stare into yours as your mouth runs dry. “You have the most captivating eyes.”

It felt like you were in a storybook in this moment. The way the orchestra played, how he held you tightly against his body, the way his eyes stared into yours. Your eyes harnessing the power and energy of a thousand suns, but his ice blue eyes able to tame the heat they gave off. Why did this feel so right?

“I don’t know if I should say this,” you start, “but I’m going to anyway.”

He laughs, “I love a girl who can speak her mind. Go on.”

You breathe, “I feel like I’ve known you forever. Like this isn’t our first time meeting. I feel like I’ve known you since the dawn of time.”

You can see him gulp and blink a few times. Did your words scare him? Were you too upfront with him? But before you can think of any more questions, he speaks, “It’s like you can read my mind.” You chuckle as he smiles. “I feel like I was supposed to meet you here, tonight, in this moment. Like this dance was...fate. And I don’t believe in fate.”

For the rest of your dance, no more words are spoken. The two of you just sway and dance to the orchestra that swells with beautiful music. You both gaze into each others eyes and watch the expressions that come across each others faces. With the occasional laugh here and there, absolutely nothing is said. Slowly, everyone around you begins to fade and it is just you two in the ballroom. Why was this happening? You prayed that this was a sign. A sign that this was right, he was right. But you didn’t get the feeling that Lottie was describing to you earlier in your room. Your heart was on fire and you felt like you were about to burst, but no stomach churning or head reeling. Instead, you felt like you were burning. Burning for this man. Burning for his touch. Burning for his attention. You could only hope he felt the same.

Before you know it, the orchestra finishes playing and everyone slowly stops dancing. The ballroom applauds the orchestra and you both join in, but don’t leave each others gazes. Soon enough, people begin to leave the dance floor to partake in other conversations or dance with other people or even promenade outside.

You smile at your gentleman and say, “Thank you for the dance. It was...magical to say the least.” You curtsy to him and turn away to go, but wished you didn’t have to.

Without even taking a step away, you feel him grab your hand. “Wait,” he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “Would you...would you like to go for a promenade with me? Outside on the grounds?”

Your heart skips a beat as you sigh and smile, causing him to smile back. He had his answer right there. “I would be more than delighted,” you confess. “One moment please,” you tell him before walking over to where your mother and father watched you in anxious anticipation.

“So?” your mother beams as you nod your head as she smiles. 

You had her your dance card and give your father a smile. “I’m going for a promenade outside with the last gentleman I danced with,” you beam as your father nods his head approvingly. “I will see you later,” you speak before walking back to your gentleman as he extends his arm to you. 

Your father holds onto your mother’s arm, “Porpentina, how our daughter has grown.” They watch you exit the french doors out of the ballroom and into the gardens of the Malfoy Manor.

Still arm in arm, your suitor speaks, “Now, I know we can’t reveal much of our identities to each other, but I would like to know more about you.” You smile at him, holding onto his arm tightly. “What’s your family like?”

Smiling as you think of your mother and father, you start, “They’re wonderful people. My mother has been my sun, moon, and stars since I could remember. She’s passionate and smart and powerful. She’s everything I want to be.” The gentleman smiles as you tell him of your mother. “My father is incredibly kind though many wouldn’t believe that because of what he does for a living,” you laugh. “But he’s my protector. He’s sacrificed so much for me and for my mother. He’s the best man I know.”

He squeezes your arm. “They sound lovely.” You squeeze his arm back to let him know that his sentiment is appreciated. “Any siblings?” You shake your head. “In that case, we are similar. I’m also an only child.”

“What about your parents? What are they like?” you question him next.

This earns a gulp and deep breath from him. “Well,” he starts. “My mother is kind-hearted. Braver than anyone I have ever met. She’s suffered a lot and continues to suffer just to protect me,” he confesses to you. “I’m sorry I know that’s a lot, but-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you cut him off, placing a hand on his. “She sounds remarkable. Please, continue.”

He smiles. “She is remarkable. The best woman I know.” You smile warmly at him. Your cheeks hurt so much from smiling. The gentleman takes a deep breath in before starting, “My father on the other hand. He’s a complex man. We’re not particularly close. But similar to your father, he protects me to the best of his ability. I’m not sure whether it’s out of love for his son or for some other selfish reason...probably the latter...” he trails off. You look at his face as it falls lightly. You feel for him. “But that’s beside the matter. I want to know more about you. What are your passions? What are your ambitions in life? What do you want to do with our lives that can be so fucking meaningless?” 

You laugh at his joke, crinkling your nose as you do so as he watches you contort your face in delight. He thought you looked beautiful when you laughed. “Well,” you catch your breath. “I want to do something that my family never did. I want to pursue a career when I can help people. Other people. And I have no benefit from it. I just want to help others in any way. When I was a child, I used to want to be a Healer. Then when I was a little older I wanted to be an Auror. But now I’m thinking about being a Healer again or maybe do some form of charity work and philanthropy? I don’t know. I have dreams, but I don’t know which ones to pursue.”

You look at the man beside you and he’s smiling from ear to ear. “It all sounds wonderful to me. You seems so selfless. I’m not used to it, I guess,” he confesses. “But whatever you chose, I know you’ll be brilliant.”

The two of you continue to chat and walk through the gardens, discussing future plans, hopes and dreams, and whatever comes to mind. Talking to this man felt like breathing. It was so easy. Conversation flowed like a channel of water. The conversation seemed never ending and you were perfectly fine with that. You had completely forgotten that you didn’t even know what this man’s name was, but to be honest, you didn’t care. You already knew so much about him from your conversations, you didn’t need to know something as silly as a name. 

You walk further and further through the garden until you come across a small area that was covered in rose bushes. It was a strange sight to see, beautiful roses in full bloom in the middle of winter, but with magic, anything was possible. As you walked closer, the masked gentleman plucked one from the bush and offered it to you as you graciously accepted. You continued to walk as he spoke, “There is a game called Rose, Bud, Thorn where you tell someone of the best part of your day, the worst part of your day, and something you are looking forward to. I want to hear yours.”

You nod, “Alright then. My thorn is having to wear this bloody fucking corset top all night,” he laughs at your comment. “My bud is taking said bloody corset off when I get home,” the two of you chuckle. “And my rose...I guess was meeting you,” you bump into his arm playfully. He smiles. “Your turn.”

He sighs, “Let’s see...my thorn is having to dance tonight.” You scoff. “Although, you did make it better...” he teases as you roll your eyes teasingly. “My rose is having the most beautiful, kind, and intelligent woman at this ball with me right now,” he breathes as you blush. “And my bud...” he turns to you as you take a gulp. His soothing icy blue eyes staring into yours made you shiver. “My bud will be taking off this bloody mask of yours and seeing your beautiful face.”

His face is so close to yours, you feel his breath against your lips. Your mouth his dry as you feel him moving closer and closer to your lips. His eyes look at your glossed lips before moving back to your eyes and inching closer and closer to you. Your heart was thumping out of your chest. This was all happening so fast, and yet you were alright with it?

But before he can kiss you, a guard interrupts. “All ball attendees must report inside as per the hosts’ request. It is almost midnight and time for the unmasking!” 

The gentleman in front of you sighs as he turns to the guard and gives him a dirty look. “So much for a romantic moment,” he huffs as you chuckle. He takes your hand in his as you both walk back to the inside of the Manor, retracing your steps. You are only a few paces away from inside when he speaks, “Those guards always know how to ruin a bloody moment of mine.”

You furrow your brows and chuckle, “What do you mean?”

“They always seem to catch me at the worst time to tell me something important,” he speaks as you remain confused. He notices your confusion and laughs. “This will all make sense in a moment.” You contort your face in confusion, but before you can ask any further questions the same woman who spoke at the beginning of the ball spoke again. “Welcome back! I hope you all had a lovely night full of mystery and romance,” she giggles. “But now the mystery is over.” Behind her, the clock strikes midnight and bongs. “The spell over the ballroom has been lifted and you may all remove your masks! Please reveal yourselves to each other!”

Slowly, people reveal their true identities and you start recognizing people from Hogwarts. The girl with the ruby red dress that the Scot took a liking too was Pansy Parkinson. So many other familiar faces are revealed as you chuckled. This really was a magical moment. 

Beside you, your mysterious man sighs. “Finally.” Your heart beats quickly as you turn to him, anticipating who the man behind the mask was. You hoped he was handsome like you had imagined him to be. Was it someone you knew? Maybe an old classmate? Maybe someone from Hogwarts? Who could it be?

Reaching behind his head, he pulls on the silk strings that hold his mask up. Gently he peels it off and runs his fingers through his styled hair. And that’s when your heart stops and drops into your stomach.

The platinum blonde hair, the icy cold, unforgiving eyes, the pink lips that curled into that smirk. It was all too familiar. All too familiar that it made your chest feel tight with venom and anger. How could you be so naive? How did you not remember those eyes? Those eyes that dug into yours. Those lips that spat such cruel and vile words at you when you were just children. 

It was Draco Malfoy.

You inhale a sharp jagged breath as he laughs. “I know, it’s strange, but I’m assuming things are starting to click for you. Especially with how I know the guards and why they let us into the rose garden. But it’s me. I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy,” he speaks with a smile. You feel like you are about to vomit.

Of course, how could you not notice the guards letting you both through the gardens without interruption or protest? How did you not notice his wave of a finger when you needed to be let through somewhere? How did you let him distract you? How did you let yourself become so captivated by the man you hated most in the world?

“I think it’s only fair if I see you now,” he chuckles, waiting for you to take off your mask. 

But instead of taking off your mask, you wanted to run. Run far away. Run so far and forget this whole night happened. Forget every word exchanged with Draco full of such adoration. This was a sick joke.

Draco notices your horror and he speaks, “Are you alright, darling?”

His nickname for you made your stomach churn. You felt ill.

You couldn’t look at him any longer. You turned away and began to swiftly walk away from him. “Wait, where are you going?” he asks as you weave through the crowd. “Please, don’t go!”

Your stomach was churning and your head was reeling. How could this have happened. Then it all clicks. Lottie’s words. My stomach felt like it was doing flips and my head was reeling. There was no way. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. You were in love with Draco fucking Malfoy. This was a nightmare.

That’s when his hand grabs your arm and flips you to look at him. “Where are you going?” he laughs as he looks at you. “Are you that surprised?” he asks with a smile as you just stand there, trying to catch your breath. His brows furrow. “Is there something wrong? Do we know each other?” he asks. “Take off your mask so I can see you, darling.”

In pure anger and frustration, you hastily sigh and undo the masks strings quickly before ripping it off your face to reveal your identity. The smile on Draco’s face instantly drops as he recognizes exactly who you are.

And there you were, two enemies standing in front of each other, glaring at each other in the middle of a ballroom, surrounded by other young couples who were falling in love. The two of you just burning holes into the other. The energy of a thousand suns trying to melt the ice that stared right back at it. Two sworn enemies now destined to fall in love. What a conundrum this was.

“Call me darling again and I’ll hex you, Malfoy,” you breath through pants of sheer anger.

Your stomach was still doing flips and your head continued to reel. Your face was flushed. How could Draco Malfoy and your masked gentleman be the same person? It was impossible. Your gentleman was kind and charming and witty and smart and thoughtful. Draco Malfoy was vile and rude and unkind and selfish and self absorbed and loathsome. There was no way you could be in love with a version of someone who you swore you would hate until you took your last breath.

Draco’s face slowly moves into a cautious one. “(Y/N),” he starts. “I swear I didn’t know it was you. I was just as clueless as you. You have to believe that I didn’t do this on purpose.”

You laugh, “I don’t believe a thing that comes out of your mouth. I was stupid to believe that I could fall for a person as disgusting and despicable as you.”

And with that, you march away from Draco, ignoring his calls out for you as you approach your mother and father. Once they see you, their expressions change from excitement to concern. Before anyone of them can ask what was wrong, you demand, “We are going home. Right now. I want to go home. Please. Can we go home?”

You feel a lump in your throat and your eyes become hot with tears. Your mother grabs your hand as your father pulls out his wand to apparate you back home. The last thing you hear before you leave the ball was Draco’s voice calling out for you to come back.

Before you know it, you are back in the comfort of your own home, face stained with tears as you run up the stairs to your room. You ignore your mother and father’s call to tell them what happened. You slam your bedroom door shut and lock it before letting the sob rake through your body, shaking you from the inside out.

You were foolish to believe you could find someone at a stupid ball. Those fucking masks. Making you believe someone was something they weren’t. It was all a lie. Smoke and mirrors. And you fell for it. You fell for Draco and there was nothing that you could do to forget it. 

You fell for a facade and you would have to live with that forever. How you were supposed to face him at Hogwarts was beyond your control.

[artistgoudeau]

Black/fem reader x Everyone “The Do-Over”

Reader is a huge Blerd (black nerd) that gets transported to Attack on Titan universe in the year 843. She “luckily” was coming home from vacation. Fell asleep on the plane and woke up outside the walls (with her bags to make life easier for y/n) Now reader is curvy and has a fat ass (I DO make the rules). This, plus her darker skin and fluffy hair, drives everyone crazy. Erwin, Levi, Miche, and Hange are all very close. Rumors go around about them fucking all the time. But no one could prove it. You didn’t even know if they liked each other. You could only guess. But Erwin is always so interested in talking with you. Clumsy man seems to always drop something on the floor for you to bend over and reach. Hange squeals everytime she sees you and is NOT shy about flirting with you. You’re so pretty and she genuinely is curious about you. She ends up brushing her hands in weird places but that’s just her being extra excited. Levi is canonically a virgin so you wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable with your cleavage and fat thighs when it was hot and you had to train. But it seemed okay because everytime you looked his way, his eyes would travel up from your ass to your eyes and stay there. Miche was the most obvious. He liked to flirt and joke about what your babies would look like. How those kind of hips are rare and he would love to help you with extra training. He would sniff you often. Commenting on how your hair smelled so soothing. You catch the other three vets staring daggers at him if they happen to catch his flirting.

One day you overhear a conversation happening in the commander's office. Eavesdropping isn’t very nice.

Miche: good GOD I can’t take much more of this..

Levi: Are you some teenage idiot who can’t keep it in his pants? Y/n has probably had enough of the fucking flirting! You’re her superior! Act. Like. It.

Hange: Now WAIT A MINUTE! I know for a fact you’ve been beating off to her in the showers!

Levi: And just how THE HELL would you know that?

Erwin: Okay. Okay. Let’s not beat around the bush, y/n is very…ahem… attractive. But we can’t just all gang up on her with our feelings.

Miche: Why not?

Hange/Levi/Erwin: WHAT THE FUCK?!/ Hah?!EXCUSE ME!

Miche: whoa whoa whoa! I didn’t mean FORCE HER! I meant what if we all approached her in our own way and try to actually build bonds with her. She will feel left out if only one of us showed interest and the rest of us just ignore her trying to be nice. Besides, I don’t really want anyone else to have a chance to steal her. If we can learn to share we might be able to make this work.

Erwin: That is incredibly-

Before your commander could even finish his sentence you dropped your papers you were holding close to your chest as you leaned your ear to the door to listen. Up until that moment you had very sinful thoughts about most of the scouts. Muscles + being in an unfamiliar place with no one to relate to or really even looks like you = sad(horny) and desperately seeking an excuse to act out. It was juvenile, you knew. But you had been transported to an ENTIRELY fictional world where you knew everything about everyone and you were the ONLY brown skinned person in the walls! You had been stuck out in the wilderness when you were caught by none other than the Commander himself.

~Flashback~

You both stared at each other for what felt like hours. Him: looking at a woman with features he’s NEVER seen before. A person that only exists in the past and in his fathers stories about the world. You: completely stunned by the fact that one second you were at the airport on your way home from vacation, and now you are staring at a man (that you have definitely read questionable fanfiction of) staring at you. That would just be too good of a cosplay to have a giant naked man also running behind him to catch up to you two. Then you snapped out of it and called him by his name.

Y/n: ERWIN MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!

You were running towards him before you even registered what was happening. You ran to his horse's backside and stood at a decent distance before you smacked its ass and it ran like hell. Erwin seemed to be in a trace as his eyes followed your frame but his hearing stopped working. When his horse suddenly lurched forward he was nearly thrown off but had enough sense to right himself before turning to look back at you trying to run the titan in a different direction. What the fuck are you doing?

Y/n: oh fuck! I’m gonna die! I can’t believe this! I hope Erwin is okay! God if you’re there I need some fucking help!

God answered your prayers that day.

As if on cue (like it’s a tv show or something) the titan suddenly is struck from it’s nape and falls a few fucking feet from you!!! You didn’t even have to look up to know that it was Levi who came to the rescue. Not that you could, you were currently hyperventilating, sweating, and swearing.

Levi: hey! HEY! Look at me! Can you tell me your name? How did you get out here? Are you alone?

You had enough sense (and therapy) to try and focus on his words.

Y/n: my name is y/n. I don’t know. And I don’t know. I just woke up here.

Levi: outside the walls?

Y//n: looks like it.

Erwin finally speaks up after watching Levi save you then listening to Levi question you.

Erwin: How is that possible? There’s no one living beyond the walls and someone as unique as you would’ve been hard to miss inside the walls.

You look at Erwin and you can’t control the deviated look on your face. Both of them catch it but they don’t know what it means. You are crashing now from the rush of life saving adrenaline. You need to be quick and concise here and get your point across.

Y/n: I am not from this world. But everything you know about the Titans and this world has been a lie. *you look to Erwin and stare into his eyes* Your father was right, Erwin. And because he was so close to the truth the MPs killed him. And he WAS very close. I know the truth the king is hiding from you all and I want to make this right.

Erwin and Levi are stunned. The truth of everything?! Dropped seemingly from the sky!? This must be a trap! But Erwin's father being mentioned was entirely too specific.

Erwin: How do you know my father if you aren’t from this world? How do we know you aren’t a mad woman dressed so strangely and speaking in a dialect I can’t quite grasp. Even if you aren’t mad, how could we possibly know you are telling the truth.

You think for a moment then look to Levi

Y/n: Your name is Levi Ackerman. You were born from Kuschel Ackerman, who was a prostitute, so your father is unknown. She died while you were still young and you were raised by a man named Kenny. He taught you how to fight with a knife and then left you when you could defend yourself. You and you friends, Isa-

Levi: ENOUGH!

You flinch away but you understand. You just told a lot of his personal business right next to Erwin and you’re almost sure he didn’t know all of that. But accuracy was key here. You couldn’t be lying or crazy to recount his life in such detail. He and Erwin were stunned.

Erwin: I think it’s best if you come with us.

Y/n: please. I promise I just want to help humanity.

Levi: tch by spilling everyone’s personal information?

Y/n: no. Because I know everything that happens concerning the titans, humanity, and survey corps for the next 2000 years. And in the next five years, if we don’t change the future, humanity and the earth itself will be 80% decimated. The ground will be uninhabitable for hundreds of years. And even when humanity somehow survives. The land you all currently occupy. Your cultures. Your literature. Your pasts, presents, and futures will be completely eradicated by the outside world in the next 2000 years. Please believe me. I DON'T want this to happen and I’m sure you don’t either. What’s more, I can prove it.

Erwin: Show me.

Chapter end

Please leave comments and criticisms. I am just starting out writing fanfics and I want to make sure I’m doing something right lmao.