#i couldn’t sleep. but I oddly don’t feel so scared anymore. truth be told I took a pill. but i think it’s the

[dead-set-goat]

Baccalaureate exam No. 1 in 2 hours. They’ve been hyping us up for this one for about four years.

[wheretheresaway-theresawilliam]

Chapter 31: Darling, Dearest, Dead

Word Count: 1066

TWs: Murder and death mentions, religious reference, blood mention

⛤⛤⛤

“You really ought to clean up your language around children, Mike,” Charlie lightly chastised when she left the arcade to check on him, huddled up outside of the backroom. “What was inside?”

Michael unfurled himself, looking up at the Marionette with a paled complexion. “My brother.”

“...Oh.”

“But… he wasn't killed by William. He was killed…” He looked down at his shaking hands, whispering, “By me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose--”

“I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to scare him, that was on purpose.”

“I told you, Michael, you're not like William. You're going to be okay.”

“Why is he here???”

“I don't know.”

“Has he been inside of FredBear since the accident…?”

“No. He didn't die immediately, so it's not possible… the human body has to pass on first in order to become a ghost.”

Michael said nothing, still trying to shake off the feeling Evan’s spirit had instilled in him. Absolute terror.

“Inside,” Charlie echoed, distracted by her thoughts. She offered her oddly-shaped hands to help Michael back onto his feet. He took them and stood, suppressing a nauseated burp.

“God…”

“I don't think he can help us anymore, Mike.”

He wanted to laugh but was too shaken up to do so. His watch beeped. “That’s time…”

“Get some rest. Oh, and leave me the photograph.”

“Why…?”

“Why do you think? To liberate the others.”

“What happened to ‘They'll kill you if they see you after looking at this?’”

“You'll just have to be careful.”

“Thanks, Charlie. Very comforting.”

“You're welcome.”

He knew they deserved the truth, so he left the photo, as requested. He didn't sleep well when he got home, but the fear and sickness that he felt began to dissipate, so he thanked his lucky stars for that. He was awoken from a moment of peaceful sleep by his phone ringing jarringly and reminding him that he had fallen asleep on his shitty couch. He grumbled to himself as he went to answer it, attempting to sound more awake than he felt.

“Hello??”

“If you show up at Circus Baby’s again, I’ll have no choice but to have the guards escort you out, do I make myself clear?” William’s voice sent shocks of rage into Michael’s heart. He was fully present, now.

“What’s it to you? How’d you get this number?”

“Oh, please, as if I haven’t been keeping tabs on you in case you came back to bite me in the ass. You may miss Elizabeth, but you made your choice. Though, do inform me, there seems to be a gap in your employment history… not working at the mechanic’s shop anymore?”

“Only on weekends. I’m between jobs. Maybe I came in looking for a spot at this new place you’ve got, but you’ll never know because you’re being a--”

“Yes, yes, very nice. Carry on with whatever sad little life you’ve carved out for yourself with a dead man’s money.”

“Don’t fucking talk about Henry to me, you prick.”

Click.

Yeah, that’s right you jackass, hang up on me. You can’t imagine the Hell that’s coming for you when I’m through.

On the other end of the line, William glared at his reflection in the shiny, black phone, back in its cradle. Something wasn’t right. He’d felt unsettled since he had hired Mike Schmidtt. He didn’t usually care to know the backstories of the potential Freddy’s guards, especially since they began to drop like flies, but he’d been itching to look into Schmidtt in particular. He kept the feeling at bay, wanting to focus on making Circus Baby’s the best it could be while he had the time… in fact, he had just brought Circus Baby in for touch-ups an hour ago. He hadn’t even put her away for ten minutes before Elizabeth began whining about wanting her back. She couldn’t understand that these new animatronics, though solid in creation and appearance, were very sensitive beneath the plastic skin. Some brat had stuck gum in the mechanism that allowed Circus Baby to store and serve items from within her stomach cavity, causing it to open and close at random. This function had a secondary purpose, but it was not time to put it to use. Not yet.

It took William a moment to realise warning lights were flashing overhead, indicating a “catastrophic failure” somewhere in the building. He exited the office, briefly observing the chaos as his employees rushed to evacuate all patrons before thinking of Elizabeth. He pushed his way into the crowds. “Has anyone seen my daughter?!” He commanded, growing anxious and furious with each blank face that stared back at him. He fought his way to the repairs room. Please. Of all the times you could disobey me, tell me you didn’t do it now. Breathlessly, William barged inside. He couldn’t hear his own scream, but he felt the rawness build in his chest and throat as he crumbled to his knees in front of Circus Baby, blood gushing from behind the door of the stomach cavity and spilling onto the floor. No, not you… not Elizabeth… not my only daughter…

He had to be physically dragged away, the repairs room locked as soon as he was en route outside. He shook the guards off of his arms and stumbled like a zombie to his office, numbly dialling Michael’s number again.

You’ve reached Michael Afton’s answering machine. Feel free to leave a message, unless you’re William Pauly Afton, then you can go suck a big fat egg. BEEP.

“Elizabeth’s dead. Michael--” And then he was being torn away again, the phone clattering out of his hand and hanging off of the wall by its curly cord, bouncing slightly in a mockingly comical way.

“Mr. Afton, we’re going to take you to an ambulance, just to treat you for shock, alright?” One of his employees spoke, but William could barely comprehend him over the buzzing in his head, like the neon lights blinding him from above. For the first time in his life, he was filled with remorse. He wished it had been him instead. A fitting end, to be killed by one of his own creations. But maybe this was a nightmare, and he’d wake up to Elizabeth jumping up and down, squealing about something or another at his bedside. Norman handing him his coffee as he walked into the office. The family he always wanted.

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father’s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. “(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Just in Time

doing this thing | day 7 - hanahaki

I wish I had so much more time for this one because I had so many thoughts. One day I’ll have to write a full fic, but for now:

Jaskier has imagined his death in many ways - at the hands of an angry spouse; quiet, in his bed as an old man; a stray downer - but never like this. Never sneaking off and choking up flower petals where Geralt can't see (or, hopefully, hear) him. The last thing he needs is for Geralt to try and help and to look further into what this is.

Jaskier knows, of course. He's knowledgeable in all aspects of love and up until his recent affliction had, like most poets, romanticized hanahaki disease. But knowing the only person who can cure your impending death is also the reason for it seems less romantic than the stories he'd been told as a child.

The worst part is that in all the years and all the stories, there is only one cure for the disease: requited love.

Jaskier sighs to himself as he plucks one last petal from between his lips. At the rate he's going, he'll have as much luck getting Yen to fall in love with him as Geralt.

He resigns himself to it. The petals took some getting used to, but the most difficult part now is keeping it from Geralt. He knows Geralt suspects something, and after months of this, there's no way he couldn't. The only reason he hasn't brought it up, Jaskier suspects, is for Jaskier's sake or for the sake of peace. It's not like it's getting any worse.

It gets worse.

Jaskier wakes up in the middle of the night, choking on petals. When he catches his breath, he takes a quick look around to ensure Geralt is still sleeping and, finding him still asleep, gathers up the petals and slips away from camp. He buries them at the edge of the forest, as he usually does, but this time when he drops the broken petals into the hole, he finds a bud. Just one. But his heart starts to beat a little quicker nonetheless. For months he's been holding steady with the petals, but a bud means the disease is progressing.

Still, he can't let Geralt know. Geralt would only worry and demand to know what's wrong and, if Jaskier didn't tell him, likely take him to a healer and get it figured out himself. And once he knew, gods, Jaskier can't even imagine what that would mean for him. If Geralt knew he was in love would he want to know who with? Would he press if it meant making Jaskier better? He doesn't want to think about it at all.

As with all things in his life, this eventually blows up in his face.

He's performing at a banquet. A tavern would have been too casual, an inn too practical. No, it has to be a manor house surrounded by the wealthy and powerful - and worst of all, Geralt. He's halfway through a jig when he feels the tickling begin. He makes it through the end of the song by some miracle, before coughing and spluttering. He slaps a hand over his mouth but a few petals slip through his fingers as he makes a quick escape to the garden.

Jaskier's hunched over a railing, coughing flowers into the flowerbeds below. For something so soft and delicate, they burn in his throat as though fighting their way out. A gentle hand presses against his back and Geralt slips up close.

"Jaskier," he says and he sounds worried, a tone reserved for... well, not him.

"'M fine," he mumbles, but as soon as he opens his mouth another handful of petals spill from his lips.

"Fuck. Jaskier." The hand on his back fists in his doublet, the other coming around to cover Jaskier's hand. "We have to get you to a healer."

"No," he insists. "Geralt-" he splutters and chokes on a loose petal and hangs his head. How does he explain there's no helping him? None at least that are worth the sacrifice.

"Then Yennefer."

Jaskier turns, wiping his mouth as he lifts his head to look at him. Yen is the last person he wants to see in this state, but Geralt looks scared in a way Jaskier has never seen him before.

"If it gets worse," he suggests.

"No," Geralt says, "before it gets worse."

They argue about it on and off for a few weeks. It's an argument Jaskier doesn't win.

Yennefer is none too pleased to see him, especially when she realizes he is the cause for their visit. She looks him over, clearly realizing something is up when Jaskier holds back a cough.

"He's coughing up flowers," Geralt says, "I've never seen anything like it."

"Hanahaki," Yen sighs, crossing her arms across her chest. "Your bard is in love. Unrequited." Yen looks like she's about to say something more, but Jaskier looks up at her, pleading. He knows she knows what’s happening to him, but Geralt can't know. Don't tell him, he begs silently. Yen gives him an odd look but she doesn't say anything.

"Geralt," she says, "I need a moment with the bard." She keeps her eyes on Jaskier and the intensity of it is a little terrifying, but the alternative is much, much worse. As soon as Geralt is out of earshot, she sits across from him, crossing her legs and leaning on them.

"You know," she says accusingly.

"Yes."

"So why are you here? I can't imagine you came to enjoy my company?"

"I don't want him to worry."

Yen laughs at him. "Too late."

"Don't tell him."

"That you'll die?"

"Yes."

"Why not try to cure it?" Yen's eyes narrow skeptically and Jaskier sighs.

"My beloved will never return my feelings, nor would I expect them to."

"There's another option," she insists though Jaskier can't fathom why.

"I will never fall out of love, not this time." He looks down, focusing too hard on his boots and Yen scoffs.

"Then you're a fool," Yen snaps, rising to her feet.

"Then I suppose I shall die a fool, but please don't tell him."

"If he asks, I won't lie." She leaves the room and Jaskier sighs, dropping his chin against his chest.

"Wouldn't expect anything less," he mumbles. For a few minutes, he sits in silence before realizing Yen isn't coming back. He gathers himself up and leaves the little hut, making his way back to where Geralt is waiting.

"What did she say?" he asks and Jaskier only shrugs.

"Nothing to be done, I'm afraid. We'll have to wait for it to go away on its own."

It doesn't go away, nor does Jaskier ever expect it to. If anything, he's resigned himself to a slow death so long as he can spend his remaining days with Geralt. And he does.

Geralt takes care of him now that he's not hiding it any longer, ensuring he's always warm and well-fed. They'll stop early for the night when Jaskier has a bad fit and Geralt will take care of the rest of the duties around camp. Jaskier is torn. He feels guilty for letting Geralt do so much for him when he's not doing anything to try and make himself better. But a part of him relishes the attention, wishes that it was the way they always were - or at least some of the time. At the same time, he realizes the only reason Geralt is acting like this at all is because Jaskier is sick.

He does everything he can to help and Jaskier just gets worse. He sees the toll it takes on Geralt, how every moment he's not hunting becomes dedicated to Jaskier. And Jaskier tries not to let him, but Geralt is having none of it. And Jaskier gets worse.

It's a cold autumn night when Geralt realizes his efforts are doing no good. They're at an inn, in a single bed because Geralt won't let him get very far away anymore. Jaskier is facing the wall, his back to Geralt's chest when he finally hears the words he's been dreading.

"It's not going to get better, is it?" Geralt's voice is soft but seems like thunder in his ears and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut.

"No, darling, it's not."

Geralt's arm tightens a little around him, though Jaskier suspects it's a reflex. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't want to worry you. I was hoping you'd be gone for the winter before it got this bad."

"I won't leave you like this," Geralt rumbles, "there must be something I can do."

Jaskier could cry at the injustice of it all. He wants to tell Geralt the truth, but he can't put that on him, can't put his death on Geralt's hands. Already, he's sure Geralt will blame himself for it.

"There's nothing, my dear. It's enough to have you here."

Geralt curls around him nose pressed into his hair. Jaskier has to fight back tears, curling around himself as he struggles to catch his breath. His throat is raw from hacking up blooms and he hasn't told Geralt, but they've been more frequent recently and complete with stems and leaves. More than one at a time.

He shuts his eyes and presses into Geralt's warmth, taking care to pay attention to every little detail of Geralt's body against his own. It's so unfair that this is all he has ever wanted and he knows now that he won't live to see the morning. This isn't the way he thought he'd go, but he can't think of a much better way, really. Geralt is soft and warm around him and he listens to the sound of his breath as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

In the morning he's... still alive. He's not sure how because he was so sure of the end, more than he'd been sure of anything. He takes a deep breath to measure the strain and there... nothing. He breathes easily for the first time in months and his heart starts pounding because he still loves Geralt. He can feel the warmth of his body around him, entangled with him and it seeps into his bones. Which means...

His eyes snap open, immediately focusing on Geralt's eyes before him. He can't breathe, but oddly this seems more familiar.

"It was me," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier can feel his lips twitch just slightly. "You almost died, Jaskier, why didn't you tell me?"

Jaskier reaches up, winding both arms around Geralt's neck and drawing him closer. "I didn't want you to blame yourself, darling." Geralt looks conflicted, like he wants to say something, but doesn't know what, so Jaskier interrupts. "Geralt?" he whispers, "tell me you mean it."

"I mean it. I'm sorry it took so long." He tips forward, pressing his lips to Jaskier's. When he draws back, he's smiling and Jaskier will never forget the way he looks now with the morning sun shining in on his face.

"Darling, you were just in time."

[dhwty-writes]

yay for last exam of the term! here is a little prompt, if you like: 'I think you need a hug' for geraskier :)

Thank you my dear, for this lovely prompt! I intended something much fluffier here, but this, uhhhhh, got a little out of hand. (Insert surprised reaction here) I know, I know, who would have thought that a story I’m writing--to one of your amazing prompts, of all things!--could get out of hand?! Crazy, right?

Anyways, this is a little sad (maybe even a big sad), I hope you like it regardless!

Warnings: It’s not explicitly stated, but Jaskier is depressed in this one. Approach with caution, if that’s something you’re sensitive about

Read on AO3

"Jaskier?" a worried voice asked behind him, accompanied by the familiar pattern of footfalls he had grown so accustomed to over the past years.

Jaskier's heartrate sped up immediately. 'Shit,' he cursed silently, furiously wiping at the tears streaking across his cheeks while he desperately tried to regain some kind of composure. "Over here!" he replied, trying—and failing—to steady his voice.

"What are you doing over here?" Geralt asked curiously, approaching rapidly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he said much more confidently than he felt. "Sure." He snuffled to keep the snot from dripping from his nose. He was an ugly crier and well aware of it, but that was nothing Geralt needed to know.

The witcher stopped only a few paces behind him. Jaskier could practically feel the glare boring into his back as he was assessing the situation. "No," he proclaimed after a few moments of deliberation, his observation astute as ever. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," he protested stubbornly. Stupid him for stupidly crying and stupidly making Geralt worry about him. The witcher had bigger concerns, as he loved to tell him, than the trivial troubles of a troubadour.

"Liar," Geralt accused him.

Well. He wasn't wrong. "Hm," he replied.

"Jaskier," the witcher tried again. Was that alarm he detected in his voice? Surely not. "Can you turn around to me? Please?"

"Please?" he mouthed silently. He wasn't sure if Geralt had ever told him please before. It was a shocking turn of events, so shocking in fact, that he was taken off guard for a moment. When he found his bearings again, his voice was scarcely more than a whisper: "I'd rather not."

"Alright," he huffed. "Alright." A beat of silence followed. "Jaskier," Geralt said again, his voice closer than before.

"Yeah."

"Can I help you?"

He shrugged. "I don't think so."

"Can I try?"

He shrugged again.

Geralt took a deep breath. This time Jaskier could hear when he stepped closer. "Do you want me to leave?"

'Yes,' was his first instinctual answer. No-one should see him like this, floating in numbness; especially not Geralt. To shrug, was his second. He didn't care. He didn't care about anything. Stay, go, help, none of that mattered. But there was something inside him, nagging him; something that made him whisper the truth despite everything: "No. I don't think so."

"Thank you." It was a silly thing to respond. A stupid thing, really. But Geralt said it so— so earnestly, somehow, that it wasn't silly, wasn't stupid. It did manage to make him cry again, though, his shoulders shaking nigh unnoticeably, silent sobs rattling through his body, choking him.

"Want to know what I think?" Geralt said calmly, softly. He knew that tone. It was the same as if he was speaking to Roach when she was frightened.

'I'm not stupid horse,' he wanted to say, 'I'm a stupid human who's holding you up because of nothing at all.' But something kept the words from escaping his mouth. Something forced him to wait for whatever Geralt would say next.

What he said next, though, was an impossibility nothing on earth could have prepared him for. "I think you need a hug," Geralt of Rivia said.

It was such a surprise, in fact, that he couldn't help but snort out a laugh.

"What?" Geralt asked, evidently amused by his reaction.

For Jaskier, this wasn't amusing at all. It was downright cruel, teasing him like that; proposing something he would never follow through with. "You, Geralt of Rivia," he explained hoarsely, "do not do hugs. You are the most unhuggable person on earth, the forbidden, the impermissible, if you will."

"Hmm."

'Finally,' Jaskier thought, 'a Geralt-answer.' This conversation almost began feeling normal.

Almost, for then he said: "Can I touch you?"

"Why?" he asked warily.

"To prove you wrong."

He shrugged. If Geralt wanted to humour him, who was he to tell him no?

The first touch was a shock. Five fingertips brushing over his shoulder, sending lightning bolts from the crown of his hair down to his toes.

The second touch was a conundrum. A solid hand on the juncture of his neck and his shoulders, making him wonder what on earth the witcher was playing at.

The third touch was a pillar. A muscled arm snaking around his waist when his own knees turned to mush and threatened to collapse.

The fourth touch was an anchor. A jaw hooking over his shoulder, gently coming to a rest, his body tensing up while all he could hear were gentle, even breaths.

The final touch was a relief. A familiar body moulding itself to his back as if it belonged there; as if it had always been there.

It was so familiar, so normal, so necessary that Jaskier couldn't keep it together anymore. Beneath silly caresses and stupid "There, there, there"s he felt himself crumble to dust. His carefully erected walls ruined with nothing but a gentle touch, the tears flowed freely down his face, his knees gave out under him, he was only held upright by Geralt's arms.

Gently, the witcher lowered them to the ground; kneeling at first, then lying down. "It's alright," he kept repeating. "It's alright, I'm here, I've got you." As if that would make it true. Silly. Stupid.

"It's not," he protested helplessly, because it wasn't. "It's not, I can't, I can't, Geralt."

"I know," he said as if he wasn't talking nonsense. "I know, I've got you. You're not alone."

"It hurts," he wailed.

"Show me where." Slowly, carefully still, as if any touch too bold could make him flee, he snaked his hand under Jaskier's, intertwining their fingers. "I'm here with you."

"There," he sobbed weakly, stupidly, as he pressed his hand over the left side of his chest. "It hurts. Make it stop. Make it go numb again."

"Oh, Jaskier," Geralt murmured, "you don't mean that. Truly, you don't want that."

He shrugged.

Geralt held on tighter. "It's alright," he said again. "I'm here. I've got you."

 ~*~

 Jaskier wasn't quite sure when he regained his senses. All he knew that it was dark now and that it hadn't been when he had fled the camp. And that Geralt was still curled around him, holding on tight.

"Geralt?" he whispered, unsure if the witcher was sleeping or not. He wouldn't want to wake him, if he was. In fact, he would want him to be asleep, so that he could vanish as quickly as possible, for a few weeks maybe, so that this embarrassing episode could be conscribed to oblivion.

But Destiny was a cruel mistress, who held no mercy for him that day. "Hmm," Geralt replied, slowly stirring behind him. "Back with me?"

"I think so."

"Good. How're you feeling? Good?"

"Yeah!" he answered, trying to mask his insecurity with his usual chipper attitude. "Yeah."

Geralt pressed his nose against his neck and inhaled deeply. It was... oddly comforting. "Liar," he concluded after a moment.

Jaskier sagged forward again. "No," he confessed quietly, "I'm not. And— I'm sorry, Geralt, I don't think I'll be feeling good for quite some time. It's— It's—" Truthfully, he didn't know what it was.

But as usual this evening, Geralt had the answer: "It's alright," he promised, squeezing him a little tighter. Somehow, he believed him. "Just don't go wandering off again. You—" He hesitated, then leaned closer as if confessing a secret. Maybe it was. "You scared me."

"I thought witchers couldn't be scared."

"No, we get scared plenty. I— Hmm."

He waited patiently. After a while he had learned to discern the subtle differences between all of Geralt's 'Hmm's. There were the usuals, 'Yes'-Hmms, 'No'-Hmms, and 'Fuck off'-Hmms, the 'Roach'-Hmm's and the 'Jaskier'-Hmm's, which mostly either were 'I'm silently laughing at you'-Hmm's or 'I appreciate what you're saying, but am too emotionally constipated to tell you so, so I'm rather pretending to be annoyed'-Hmm's. And then there were rarer Hmm's such as this one, which was indisputably an 'I want to tell you something that is important to me, but don't know with which words yet; I need some time'-Hmm.

So, he waited. Eventually, Geralt would speak again. He always did and today was no exception. "I'm not scared of monsters," he said finally, "or men. I can hit those with my sword. I can protect you from them, because you're too stupid to stay put when I tell you to. But this—" He pressed his hand over Jaskier's heart again. "—I don't know how to fight this. I don't know how to save you from this. I might lose you to this." His voice was trembling. Actually trembling, too quiet for anyone to hear, but Jaskier could feel the tremors from behind him. "So, yeah. This scares me."

His voice was shaking much more clearly when he replied: "I don't know either. But," he heaved a breath, "what you did was a good start, I think." After a moment of silence, he added: "I'm sorry."

Geralt growled and flicked his ear. Somehow, it was a comforting sound. "Stop it," he commanded.

"Stop what?"

"You keep apologising."

"I'm sorry."

"There!" He flicked his ear again. "You did it again."

"I'm so— Ouch! Don't you pinch me, Geralt of Rivia, I don't mean to keep doing it!"

"Just shut up, then."

"Alright." He breathed deeply in and out. "Alright."

Jaskier managed all of three breaths before his foot started wiggling. Three more and he couldn't take it anymore: "I—"

"Don't you dare," Geralt interrupted him.

"I wasn't about to say it!" he protested. "Truly, I wasn't! I just— I wanted to thank you. You didn't have to."

He snorted. "What kind of friend would I be if I left you to be miserable on your own? It's nothing, Jaskier." He buried his face in his neck again and held on tighter. "I mean it. I'm here. I've got you."

"Thank you," he said again.

"Bed?" Geralt prompted after a while.

"I— Hmm."

He poked him in the ribs. "That's my line."

Jaskier snorted a laugh and scrunched up his nose. "It's stupid."

"As stupid as when you got pissed, chased by a gaggle of geese, and I had to rescue you from the outhouse you had fled into?"

"Hmm." He deliberated the answer. "Alright, maybe not quite as stupid. But it's a close call."

"Then tell me."

He gnawed on his lower lip. The more he thought about it, the stupider it got. Luckily, he'd never had to think to say something stupid. "I don't want you to let go of me," he blurted before he could change his mind.

"Hmm," Geralt hummed and with his lips pressed against Jaskier's neck, he could feel the smile spreading on his face.

It was a new 'Hmm', though, one he didn't quite know what to do with it. Very close to the 'You're a fool, Jaskier' or the 'I'm thinking of Kaer Morhen'-Hmm, but with something else; something that had previously been reserved for the 'Roach'-Hmm's and 'Yennefer'-Hmm's only.

Before he could come to a conclusion as to what that particular 'Hmm' meant, Geralt spoke up again: "Think you can let me let you go long enough for us to get back to the camp?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I can."

"Alright," he mumbled and pressed his lips to the back of his neck; short enough that it could have been an accident, long enough that it could have been something else entirely. "I've got you," he promised again. "We'll figure this out. We'll make you good again, yeah? Together."

"Together," he echoed. Somehow, sillily, stupidly, Jaskier believed him.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Death Threats

Summary: What if the people threatening Barba went after you, too?  

Warnings: Angst. Injury. Fluff. (I realized the timing puts this in the episode Heartfelt Passages, so that was a busy day for poor Rafi.)

Dedicated to @teamsladsandgents​ for inspiring me to get stabby.

2,256 words

You thought he punched you, the man in the elevator. It wasn’t until the doors chimed open and he was striding quickly but casually from the building that you realized you were bleeding.

The inch-wide slit in your shirt took a moment to start bleeding in earnest as you stood in shock, time frozen along with your body. Then thick, dark amounts of it began streaming through your fingers.

The elevator doors were sliding shut before you thought to stumble out with your last ounce of strength—to scream for help—before your body sank to the ground, leaving you alone in your metal coffin. You tried to sit up again, but it hurt and made more blood come out.

You couldn’t reach the elevator buttons.

You were so tired.

The funny thing was, you weren’t afraid. Just disappointed. You always thought you’d turn into an action hero if you were attacked—that adrenaline would awaken some ferocious, hitherto unseen warrior within, like Jason Bourne.

But it all happened so fast.

It was over before you noticed a blade in his hand. Over before you processed that he had said something to you, just before that dull punch in your gut.

“That ADA you’re fucking sticks his nose in the wrong people’s business.”

It was strange that you weren’t thinking about your mom or your best friend of ten years. As you pressed as hard as you could to stem the bleeding, you didn’t see your whole life flash before your eyes. The only thing on your mind was your boyfriend of the last several months, the sarcastic lawyer who kept so many walls up, and the petty argument you got into earlier about his canceling lunch plans again.

None of it seemed real. Didn’t seem like the way the story of your life ought to end—bleeding out in an elevator.

It was getting hard to concentrate on what to do next.

OK. The buttons wouldn’t work. Too far to reach.

No one can hear you scream.

Phone.

Your phone was in your pocket, but you had to take one of your hands off of clamping your gut to reach it. Blood streamed through your fingers—so much blood from such a small hole. Your hand was too slick with it and shaking to grab hold of the phone. If you could get it, you could call 911.

“Work, you fucking hand,” you thought. You thought that was an undignified last thought. It should be something profound. Poetic.

But no. Your last thought was going to be swearing at a Samsung.

Tired.

You never remembered if you managed to get the phone from your pocket or not. It didn’t matter anymore.

The last thing you remembered thinking about was Rafael finding out you were gone, his eyes red from mourning. Blaming himself. You wished you could tell him… If you died, you wouldn’t be there to cup his cheek, to make him smile again. To tell him what you whispered to the dark elevator, alone.

“It’s not your fault, Rafi.”

***

The man’s name was Felipe Heredio, a lieutenant of the BX9 street gang. There was already a warrant out for his arrest when he stabbed you. ADA Rafael Barba identified him in a lineup as the man who was stalking him only an hour after a neighbor found you lying in a pool of blood. The fact that he was already in police custody might have been relieving to you if you were conscious. You might have felt proud that it was Barba who ensured he was arrested.

And your heart might have broken when Barba’s phone rang, and his entire world stopped.

***

Rafael’s eyes were red from crying when you woke up with oxygen tubes in your nose, and your hand cradled in his. Your throat hurt more than anything else, oddly, which you would later learn was from being intubated for surgery.

The first word you croaked upon regaining consciousness was, “Sorry.”

A collection of empty coffee cups was scattered around the feet of his chair so he could stand vigil for however long you had been out. His eyes were not only red and wet, but bulging with that jittery, over-tired, caffeine anxiety.

You knew how busy Rafael was. That it was a weekday (technically, it was already tomorrow), and he’d have court in the morning. What you didn’t know, because he didn’t want to weigh you down with his world, was that Barba had already mourned one death today, and that one more loss might break him.

You were sorry for causing him so much trouble.

Rafael was having none of it, of course. He tried to keep his voice from shaking when he told you, “Why in god’s name would you be sorry?” followed by barking, “Stop that—don’t try to sit up. Nurse!”

His bedside manner was well and truly atrocious.

The next hour was a dizzying blur of nurses checking your vitals and helping you use the bathroom, then answering a uniformed officer whose questions you could barely understand through the morphine haze.

When it became clear what had happened and why, Rafael became unusually quiet. All of his follow-up questions and complaints of, “is this really necessary? Can’t you do this later?” fell away. He slumped in the visitor’s chair beside your bed, his hand still holding yours, but in pensive silence until the officer finished, leaving you alone except for the security detail at the door.

Then the apologies came. The heavy confessions that he’d been receiving threats for a year, and this was all, all his fault. Admittedly, if it weren’t for the morphine drip dulling everything, you might have been pissed off that he knew this might happen and kept it to himself. He kept so much to himself, you had to read about his cases online to know what was going on in his life. But his face—which you always thought babyish, with his smooth cheeks and lips ever-ready to flash a sarcastic smirk—was drawn, making him look old and haggard. He was too serious, too raw to possibly blame him.

“I’m so sorry for putting you in danger. I never should have gotten you involved in this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he choked. “I’ve been getting threats since I indicted those cops, and I haven’t exactly been on… anyone’s good side. I should never have started dating you.”

Like a slap in the face, that sting made it through the morphine. You jerked your hand out of his.

“That came out wrong. It’s true, though. I was selfish to think I could…” He gave a melancholy sigh as he sank back in the chair. “It will be safer if we keep our distance from now on. This will never happen to you again.”

You never imagined you could get stabbed and have your heart broken on the same day, or that the latter would hurt worse.

“Then what are you even doing here?!”

“I had to know you were OK. But as long as I’m getting death threats—”

“Wait, wait. You’re saying you’d rather give up being with me than give up a legal battle with powerful enemies?”

His eyes widened and he stared like a deer in the headlights, only where the deer was an insensitive workaholic, and the headlights were the blinding rays of truth. It wasn’t even a surprise that he hadn’t thought of it that way—this was every fight he’d had with an ex just before they broke up with him.

“I, uh—”

You grabbed his face and dragged him down into the softest kiss, which was not what he was expecting. He almost yelped (though it melted into a whine) when his fiery hot, coffee-flavored lips hit your cool ones. When he pulled back, lips wet and parted, his brow furrowed in confusion over still-widened eyes.

“You are… the sweetest.” Your hand lingered on his cheek as you gave a doped-up-on-painkillers smile. “The most selfless, noble… bravest… amazing man I have ever met. I love you so much.”

“I… what?”

“Rafael”—your thumb lazily stroked his cheek—“I know how much you care about me. Even though you’re married to your job and it’s frustrating as hell sometimes, I’ve never been insecure that you don’t love me enough. I know you never tell me about your cases because you want me to be able to sleep at night. You worry about me too much. And you always look so nervous whenever I leave, like you think I’m never coming back this time.

“So the fact that you would sacrifice your own happiness before you’d let an injustice go unanswered… that’s incredible. You do nothing but give a voice to the voiceless all day, working yourself to the bone without considering the cost to your personal life. You’re like a superhero, ADA Barba.”

A short breath of a laugh escaped his lips as his hand came up to the side of his face to cover yours. His eyes were watery, and he looked like he was about to break down again as he bitterly whispered, “A superhero who almost got you killed.”

“I’m not leaving you, you know.”

“Cariño. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t—couldn’t…”

“Nothing’s going to happen. It’ll be OK. I’m not leaving you alone.”

A tear wavered precariously close to the rim of his eyelid until he turned away, rubbing his face. It was gone when he turned back. “You could have died because of my fucking work! I’ve never given you the time you deserve. How do you still want to be around me?”

“Hey, someone has to be there to protect you when you get yourself in trouble,” you grinned.

Rafael Barba couldn’t take any more. He bent over the hospital bed and wrapped his arms around you, doing his best not to snag any of the many tubes coming out of you or put any weight on anything below your diaphragm, but hugging you to him as tightly as he could. You felt his trembling breathing in your hair, and hot wet spots pooling on your neck.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Your free arm closed over his back, stroking his broad, tense muscles through his shirt. “I’m really glad I didn’t die,” you whispered, finally allowing yourself to feel scared now that he was here. “I didn’t want to die yet. Not like that.”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed in, and his arms tightened protectively. “You have no idea how terrified I was. I’m so sorry…”

“Shh,” you whispered. You clung to him, soothed by his familiar cedar and citrus scent, fainter now after a long, harrowing day, mixed with the masculine smell of sweat.

“I’m glad you’re alive, too. I can’t lose you. I can’t. I love you more than anything.”

Soon—too soon, because you wanted to continue talking—you drifted to sleep in his arms. And once again too soon, you woke up with your entire abdomen on fire, and nurses bringing you pain medication. Rafael was still there, half asleep next to you in the narrow bed.

He didn’t leave you.

Even if it put you in danger, he would rather be beside you, making sure you were OK than cutting you out of his life and hoping the bad guys got the memo. He couldn’t put you through that pain, even if he could do it to himself. Especially when you pondered aloud to him whether you’d survived because you were thinking about him—that you refused to die before seeing him again, knowing what a wreck he would be.

Recovery was long, and interspersed with doing nothing but fall asleep when you’d rather stay awake, and not being able to sleep at all. Rafael (and his security detail) moved into your apartment when you were released from the hospital so he could take care of you—as grumpy and bossy and sarcastic as his bedside manner might be.

You swore you were going to sign up for Krav Maga or Cobra Kai or something once you could exercise again, since apparently you were not a secret knife-fighting ninja deep down. Next time, you wanted to be a badass who could fight back, and never let anyone harm your overzealous ADA when he kicked the hornet’s nest.

Eventually, you would convince him that it wasn’t his fault that bad guys had acted like bad guys. And he would convince you that taking care of you wasn’t a burden—that the emergency time off from work was worth it. He started replacing “sorry” with “I love you.”

In the end, while you wouldn’t say being stabbed was a good thing, or that you’d choose to be stabbed again if you had the option, it did ensure Heredio was put away for a long, long time. It left you with a cool scar, and a new catchphrase for expressing your displeasure—“I’d rather be stabbed again than do the dishes!”

Fine, it also left you jumpy and made your chest tight whenever you found yourself alone in an elevator.

But most importantly, it brought down the walls Rafael had been keeping up around himself. He talked to you more. You talked to each other more. And he remembered to—on occasion—take time out of his heroic, selfless life of battling injustice, and selfishly spend it with you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ���•●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba /��@itsjustmyfantasyroom / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @delia26 / @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes / @storiesofsvu​

[wordsablaze]

To Be Loved

Love is a fickle thing, it can burst into life within minutes or it can take months to fully bloom. The one thing Jaskier and Eskel can always agree on is that it's more than worth the time it takes...

A/N: continues on from to be found but also works as a standalone, written for aro week <3

-

Their first date had gone well, all things considered.

Eskel had been a little sleep deprived on account of working until late and worrying until even later but Jaskier hadn’t seemed to mind at all, bursting with enough enthusiasm for the both of them.

He’d been waiting outside the bakery at six, scrolling through his phone and looking up just as Eskel was debating whether he should just sneak back inside. Jaskier had grinned widely and Eskel had immediately known it was going to be a good evening.

“You look like you have a lemon stuck in your mouth,” Lambert tells him as he walks into work a week later.

“And how would you know what that looks like?” Eskel grumbles.

To be honest, he’s felt like he has a lemon stuck in his mouth since last weekend because Jaskier had promptly disappeared off the face of the earth. He wants to think it’s just a coincidence but he can’t help feeling as though it’s another case of the whole Eskel isn't good at first dates so of course it wouldn’t work out thing again.

Lambert raises his hands in surrender and gestures to the kitchens, where everyone is allowed to work in peace when they’re not in the right mindset for actual interaction. He zones out immediately, only looking up when Coen pokes his head in the doorframe.

“We might need your help with this guy,” he says, and Eskel sighs, already expecting a problematic customer or something.

What he’s not expecting is Jaskier tapping his foot on the floor and biting his lip. He freezes when he sees Eskel, opening his mouth to say something, but Eskel holds up a hand. “Can you come through to the back? I don’t want to have this conversation here.”

In the few minutes it takes for them to reach the office, he’s decided he’s more than ready for Jaskier to admit his spontaneous flirting was just a whim and he's not interested in anything else. Only, Jaskier does nothing of the sort.

“Eskel, I am so sorry about disappearing! I didn’t mean to, I swear! It’s just that Shani’s place flooded so she broke her ankle and I had to drive her to the hospital but we were arguing on the way and this guy at a red light decided I’d hurt her as if I wouldn’t rather die but we ended up fighting and I ended up with a concussion again and we both had to stay for observation or something and I- I’m really sorry for leaving you hanging,” Jaskier blurts.

Eskel blinks.

“Is she okay?” he asks, not really sure what he’s meant to be focusing on.

Jaskier nods, his shoulders dropping as he lets out a slow exhale. “She went to medical school, she knew exactly what they were going to do before we even got in the car.”

“That’s useful,” Eskel replies, but then shakes his head. “Wait, are you okay? Someone gave you a concussion?”

He’d been amused last time Jaskier had downplayed concussions but now he’s seriously wondering if he should be concerned about how the other man can be so unfazed by so much - it’s not like you can develop an immunity to head trauma.

Jaskier just nods again. “Of course, I’m fine. I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression?”

“Not at all,” Eskel lies.

There are arms around him before he can try and figure out whether Jaskier had seen through his lie. He stumbles slightly but allows the embrace to happen, oddly comforted by the fact that Jaskier is just as relieved to have explained the truth as Eskel is; maybe this time things truly can work out, he thinks.

.

“You really don’t have to go tonight,” Jaskier says for the fourth time that day.

Eskel sighs, throwing a cushion at him. “It’s been three months since we met, I think it’s about time I see you perform.”

Jaskier hums before flopping onto the small sofa, resting his head on Eskel’s lap with the rest of his body draped lengthwise, his feet dangling off the armrest at the end. “But I know you don’t like loud or crowded spaces and we aim to have exactly that,” he pouts.

There’s a long moment in which Eskel just appreciates that he’s not being forced to go despite how bizarre it is to experience the exact opposite situation. He smiles down at Jaskier and very truthfully says, “It won’t matter because I like you.”

He places a finger on Jaskier’s lips when he tries to argue again, chuckling. “And before you ask me again if I’m sure, don’t.”

Jaskier’s eyes practically sparkle for a moment before he twists his head and bites Eskel’s finger, nowhere near hard enough to hurt but firmly enough for it to be a shock.

Rolling his eyes, Eskel laughs. “What, my baking isn’t enough for you anymore?”

Starting to reply only to realise that he can’t form actual words whilst biting down on an index finger, Jaskier pulls Eskel’s hand away and grins. “Dessert is fine, darling, but you’re a five-course meal and I wouldn’t trade all the oven goodies in the world for you.”

Eskel has no idea how to reply to that.

It’s far more romantic than anything he’s used to and he’s never been good at flirting so the last thing he wants to do is say something that ruins whatever they have going on. After a long moment of panic, he settles on shrugging. “We have a pretty good oven.”

Jaskier hums in reply and thankfully doesn’t press on his hesitation, sitting upright with a small sigh. “I suppose I should go get dressed. Are you driving?”

“I don’t trust you with my car,” Eskel says, only half joking.

“I’ll be wearing those heeled boots then,” Jaskier grins, taking absolutely no offence as he springs to his feet and blows a kiss before heading to Eskel’s bathroom, where he’d dumped his change of clothes when arriving earlier and declared it was his domain for the rest of the day.

If anyone had told the Eskel of a few years ago that he’d willingly allow someone so chaotic to saunter around his home and genuinely flirt with him in every other conversation, he’d probably have rolled his eyes and assumed they’d somehow mistaken him for someone else; maybe changing his mindset has been for the better, he thinks.

.

The ocean has no right to be so elegant.

Eskel had never been a huge fan of beaches because the stubbornness of sand is quite frankly sinful but Jaskier absolutely adores everything about them and there’s only so many of his puppy dog eyes that can be refused.

“We’ll barely even touch the sand, I promise!” Jaskier had declared, and he’d made sure of it too.

Soon enough, they’re settled on the rocky side of the beach, propped up against a larger stone with their legs stretched out in front of them and their shoulders pressed together. Jaskier slips his fingers into Eskel’s and gently squeezes, which has quickly become one of Eskel’s favourite things ever.

“Aren’t the waves gorgeous?” Jaskier asks wistfully.

Eskel hums. “They can still kill you.”

Jaskier laughs, nudging him. “Ever the optimist, aren’t you? Nothing can kill me, darling, not today.”

Well, he can’t really argue with that because he feels the exact same way. It’s hard to think of anything morbid when celebrating six months together and he doesn’t particularly want to try so he just nods in agreement.

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispers after a while.

Eskel turns to him, tilting his head to one side. “No, you were right, it is soothing to watch the waves.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Jaskier lifts their connected hands and places a soft kiss on Eskel’s thumb before looking directly at him with an even softer smile. “Thank you for letting me stay for so long.”

He says that as if Eskel isn’t in disbelief about someone being willing to stay with him for so long, especially someone like Jaskier who could probably charm his way into the lives of anyone he pleases.

“I should be saying that to you,” Eskel admits, “I know I’m not exactly the best partner out there.”

Jaskier genuinely looks offended. He uses his free hand to poke Eskel’s stomach and glares at him. “Don’t say things like that, you are possibly the kindest and most patient person I know, not to mention the most handsome.”

Eskel’s face heats up at that and even though he knows he tries to be kind and patient, he can’t help wishing he could be more, that he could be charming and fun and worthy of the poetry Jaskier keeps texting to him whenever he’s drunk.

“Hey, look at me?” Jaskier asks.

Eskel’s head moves before he gives it permission but he has no regrets because Jaskier is smiling and he’s grown overly fond of that stupid smile and the way it manages to make him feel a little better every time it’s directed towards him.

“I love you,” Jaskier whispers.

Oh.

His expression must give his alarm away because Jaskier squeezes his hand again and shuffles so he’s leaning his head on Eskel’s shoulder, looking out at the ocean. “You don’t have to say it back but I couldn’t possibly have gone another day without telling you. And it doesn’t matter, you’re still the best.”

Jaskier falls in love with someone or something new every other day but they’ve both been hesitant to acknowledge his unwavering commitment to loving Eskel until now. Eskel exhales slowly, letting his head rest stop Jaskier’s and closing his eyes.

His first instinct is to apologise but he’s almost certain Jaskier would throw him into the ocean if he did so he settles for squeezing Jaskier’s hand and shuffling even closer, focusing on the way they fit together so well, on the way everything they do together is comfortable, on the way he doesn’t feel pressured to pretend.

He’s always been a little scared of actually finding the love he usually only hears about through everyone else in fear of somehow failing at it but Jaskier has never demanded anything he wasn’t happy to give; maybe love isn’t so frightening with the right people, he thinks.

.

“Jaskier, where’s my hoodie?” Eskel asks, frowning at his wardrobe.

He knows Jaskier sometimes borrows his clothes but he’s not sure how to take that since he seems to do that with literally everyone he knows, whether that’s his bandmates, random people he meets at bars, or even Ciri on a few memorable, drunk occasions.

“Which one?” Jaskier calls back from the kitchen where he’d gone to find popcorn because he refuses to watch a film without some.

Eskel sighs. “The red one with the flowers.”

“Roses!” Jaskier corrects, and Eskel just knows he’s shaking his head in exasperation. “And I don’t know!”

After a moment of frustration, Eskel shrugs on the other red hoodie and makes his way to the kitchen, groaning when he sees Jaskier wearing the not so missing hoodie. Jaskier’s eyes widen at the sound and he spins on his heel to check the microwave as if having expected it to be exploding.

“I thought you said you didn’t know?” Eskel asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier only frowns. “I don’t?”

It takes him a minute to catch on and finally glance down at himself, at which point he bites his lip and looks up again sheepishly. “I just grabbed a random one,” he mumbles eventually.

Eskel rolls his eyes because it’s not the first time they’ve had this type of conversation and makes his way over, using his thumb to gently pull Jaskier’s lip out from under his teeth before very softly kissing him. “Blue suits you better,” he whispers.

Jaskier nods, still wide-eyed and a little breathless as he lifts his arms and loops them around Eskel’s neck. “But red reminds me of you,” he whispers back, his gaze flickering between Eskel’s eyes and lips.

Well, there goes Eskel’s heart melting again.

The microwave beeps at them before he figures out how to reply, both of them jumping enough for their foreheads to crash together. Jaskier curses immediately, stepping back as he rubs his head and glares at the microwave as if it’d just stabbed him.

“Hope the popcorn is worth the pain,” Eskel says, laughing.

Jaskier sticks his tongue out before pulling the popcorn out, pouring it into a bowl and handing said bowl to Eskel as he has the steadier hand and is far less likely to spill it all before they even sit down, which they’d unfortunately had to learn from experience.

“Don’t doubt me, darling, you are going to love this film!” Jaskier declares just as he always does - he’s only right about half the time but Eskel has to credit him for the everlasting confidence at least.

It doesn’t take them long to settle, Jaskier leaning heavily on Eskel and their arms wrapped around each other, and although Eskel is about ninety percent certain he won’t like the film judging by the cover, he wouldn’t dare interrupt Jaskier’s mission to broaden his cinematic horizons or whatever.

“You are unfairly comfortable,” Jaskier mumbles, practically burrowing into his chest.

Eskel laughs, snuggling closer himself. “You have very strange standards.”

Jaskier hums quietly, choosing popcorn over replying to the accusation just as the film finally starts with a rather cliché shot of the view from a window. He was right in thinking he wouldn’t particularly like it but Jaskier’s constant commentary has both of them laughing and it’s worth the watch anyway; maybe being with someone else makes the boring things less boring, he thinks.

.

Weird how a year can feel like forever as well as no time at all.

Eskel wakes up on the morning after their first anniversary with a slow smile, taking in the way Jaskier is sprawled over him like some sort of misguided blanket.

Perhaps it’s just Jaskier’s poetic influence over the past year but he thinks it’s utterly fitting that sunlight just so happens to be falling over the two of them in a way that makes it seem as though they’re glowing even though it’s still winter.

It’s a good thing Jaskier sleeps like the dead when he actually manages to fall asleep for a normal human amount of time because it gives Eskel the chance to do things like bring them breakfast in bed. This one he’s been planning for a while so he doesn’t waste any time gazing and quickly slips out of bed, getting himself sorted and making his way to the kitchen.

He more or less makes the pancakes with muscle memory alone because there’s a part of him that can’t help worrying. He knows Jaskier loves him, he knows that better than he knows most things, but he’s never had a relationship this long and he doesn’t know the right etiquette to all of this.

“Eskel?”

Cursing inwardly, he grabs the tray - complete with a plate of four pancakes, two mugs of coffee, and one small envelope - and heads back to his bedroom, pausing in the doorway. “Right here,” he smiles.

Jaskier returns the smile, then yawns before raising his eyebrows at the sight of the tray. “We already had anniversary breakfast yesterday?”

“Are you saying you don’t want the pancakes?” Eskel asks, smirking when Jaskier sits up with a grin that makes his answer perfectly clear. “Thought so.”

“Mhm, you’re the best boyfriend in the galaxy,” Jaskier says as Eskel places the tray at the foot of the bed and settles beside him.

Eskel is more than aware his face has probably gone embarrassingly red but for once, Jaskier doesn’t point it out, instead getting distracted by and picking up the little envelope with a frown. “What’s this?”

Deep breath.

“Can I open it now?” Jaskier asks, thankfully able to guess that Eskel’s throat has gone a little too dry for him to explain.

When he nods, Jaskier offers him a smile and rips one side open, gasping when he sees what’s inside: a key. Or more specifically, a replica of Eskel’s house key.

“I love you,” Eskel says honestly.

It’d taken him a while to get things sorted in his head - not to mention several awkward conversations with his family and friends - but at this point, he’s absolutely certain he loves Jaskier and nothing can make him question his heart in the slightest.

Jaskier sniffles and throws his arms around Eskel before he can apologise for making him cry. And Eskel laughs, holding his boyfriend whom he truly genuinely loves because he is capable of that after all close until they’re both satisfied they’re not going to actually burst into tears or anything.

“I love you back, of course,” Jaskier says as he pulls back, rubbing his eyes.

Eskel grins, ignoring the way it almost physically hurts his face, and only grins further when Jaskier kisses him despite both of them being a little too smiley for it to really work.

“I can’t believe you made me cry before pancakes,” Jaskier grumbles eventually, elbowing him, but he’s still half-grinning and there’s a lot of mixed signals.

Laughing, Eskel brushes his thumbs under Jaskier’s eyes. “The pancakes aren’t going anywhere.”

Jaskier hums in acknowledgement and twirls the key between his fingers for a long moment, apparently thinking something over. “You are aware this means you’re never going to get a moment of peace again, right?” he asks.

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Eskel replies even though he’s never felt more at peace than when he’s with Jaskier.

“On your head be it, darling,” Jaskier laughs, shuffling so he can curl into Eskel’s arms again, “I love you so much.”

Eskel’s reply is swallowed by the lump in his throat but it’s okay because Jaskier knows and he knows Jaskier knows and that’s more than enough. Their breakfast will probably go cold before they get round to it but neither of them will mind because everything else is just so perfect; maybe love is just being patient with the differences, Eskel thinks.

-

ik this is fairly niche so it's unlikely many ppl will be reading but just in case: this fic was not meant to reflect aromanticism as a whole - sometimes you just don't aim for love and that's totally valid !! this was just a lil ventfic,,

ongoing masterlist for this au if you’re interested :)

-

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier​

[kitaychan]

We need to talk.

Summary: After a breakup, Ivan realizes his life was not as fullfilling as he had thought. Reaching out to old friends might prove to be a slow task with interesting outcomes.

Chapter preview: Ivan fidgeted with his fingers, not meeting his sister’s piercing blue eyes. “I’ve already told you everything is fine, why would I lie to you? -he looked at the screen, Natalia was frowning. "Now, tell me how are you dealing with university life?”

For a moment, Ivan thought that she wouldn’t answer, that the connection was lost but the tapping of her fingers on the table told him that she was thinking her reply, her eyes were fixed on him, scrutinizing him. “It’s different, like your apartment. I see that Tolys’ horrible vase is gone.”

Dumbfounded, Ivan looked back, the dining table was indeed empty. He frowned. “Yes, you know what else is missing, Natalia? Boris, Boris is gone and I can’t find him.”

She shook her head, knitting her eyebrows together. “Boris is not gone, you haven’t searched in the most obvious place.”

Chapter 5: Workaholic.

Brother, you have some explaining to do.”

Ivan wasn’t pleased to talk with her.

Not when he had been sleeping soundly after a night of overthinking and binge-watching the first series that his computer showed. The Russian admitted that wasn’t the best choice he could take, but at least he had refrained from touching the bottle of vodka in his fridge.

His sister’s disapproving glance told him that his disheveled appearance was obvious. Not everyone was on his pajamas at 3 pm. Ivan couldn’t care any less, except for the fact that it was his dear little sister seeing him like that.

For some reason talking with Natalya has always been hard. Katya was the one he’d come crying to, not Natalya. He had tried to keep up with the appearance of the strong and serious big brother. She had always praised him when they were children, he didn’t want to shatter that illusion showing his vulnerability to her. Ironically, she’s the first to know if something in Ivan’s life is going wrong. It’s as if she could read his thoughts and see right through his facade without actually seeing him in person.

Ivan fidgeted with his fingers, not meeting his sister’s piercing blue eyes. “I’ve already told you everything is fine, why would I lie to you? -he looked at the screen, Natalia was frowning- Now, tell me how are you dealing with university life?”

For a moment, Ivan thought that she wouldn’t answer, that the connection was lost but the tapping of her fingers on the table told him that she was thinking her reply, her eyes were fixed on him, scrutinizing him. “It’s different, like your apartment. I see that Tolys’ horrible vase is gone.”

Dumbfounded, Ivan looked back, the dining table was indeed empty. He frowned. “Yes, you know what else is missing Natalia? Boris, Boris is gone and I can’t find him.”

She shook her head, knitting her eyebrows together. “Boris is not gone, you haven’t searched in the most obvious place.”

Ivan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, he’d never liked the sofa, it was too soft and he felt like a child in there. “Alfred was here.”

Natalya sighed, taking a hold of her phone and stating sternly. “I talked with Tolys.”

Ivan tried not to frown, he knew that Natalya had good intentions but she didn’t have to keep tabs on him like that, he whined. “what? why?”

“Because he posted a picture with this unknown guy and the cat, so I asked him why he wasn’t with you.”

How did she know what Tolys posted? Ivan wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. “Natalya-”

She interrupted, leaving his phone on the table, and nearing the screen as if to watch him closely. “And he told me that you broke up.”

Ivan shrugged, trying to lead the conversation. “Well, that’s true I-”

Frustration was all over her face, her voice carried indignation that Ivan could not understand. “He said that you were fine with it, that he had moved out and the day after, returned for something and found Boris outside, that he tried calling you but you didn’t answer him.”

The Russian blinked, processing the information, it was his own fault that Boris was missing. “Oh”

She nodded and huffed. “So, I told him he was cursed and stopped talking to him.”

Natalya always joked about witchcraft, scaring some of his friends in High School, Ivan snickered, finding the situation oddly familiar.“Cursed?”

The Russian felt guilty when Natalya’s voice grew weaker, and her lips quivered. “Yes because how dare he tell me that my dear brother was fine when he wouldn’t answer his calls, that’s obviously concerning.”

“But I’m fine.” He tried to reassure her, Natalya looked so similar to Katya at the moment.

“You’d talk about it if you were fine.”

He sighed, glancing at the fridge and the bright yellow note still glued to it. “But I already did, Alfred was here and he listened to me. You don’t have to worry.”

Natalya pouted, crossing her arms. “You look tired and you forgot the video call with Katya.”

Ivan paused, he did forget to call them. That explained why they were so concerned.

Natalya’s voice was soft. “Vanya, what is wrong?”

He looked up, finally meeting her gaze. “Natalya, I think I was a douche with Tolys.”

“Why?”

He glanced at the empty table behind him, muttering his answer. “I kind of ignored him so I could work.”

She huffed. “That’s stupid. You’ve always been diligent, he knew that since the beginning. He said he liked your hard-working attitude. You can’t pay the rent if you don’t work”

Ivan fidgeted with his hands. “I know, but-”

“Weren’t you paying for all?”

He nodded. “Yes, but it was a deal, he had to pay some debts and I got recently promoted, it was just for a couple of months. I'm not going to rub that on his face because I agreed to it. What we did not agree, was to constantly cancel everything because I had to stay more time at work. I don't blame him, sister, we spent about two hours together per day.”

“Ivan, that doesn't give him the right to cheat on you. Don't justify him.”

He pondered on her words, they held some truth but he still felt guilty.“I know, but he doesn't deserve to be cursed.”

Natalya’s voice was firm, her eyes fixed on the screen. "Brother, I think you wanted to end that relationship long ago but you couldn't."

Ivan couldn’t hold his gaze, he shook his head. "Natalya, I don't know, I was somehow relieved when he said we should break up but then he said he knew I didn't love him back and I felt bad, because he was hurt, and when he said he was with someone else I was angry. If I wanted that relationship to end, why would I care about those things?"

She tapped her fingers on the table, stating bluntly. "Easy, you are human, you do care about Tolys and well, you do feel jealousy. Completely normal. But you have to overcome it."

Ivan nodded, unsure of what to reply.

The tapping of her fingers stopped, her eyes were gentle and she smiled. “Brother, you can't be the almighty provider just as father was to us, that's a figure of the past. You have to share and split the economic duties equally and stop being a workaholic.

The Russian looked up, confused. “Workaholic?”

Natalya’s smile was brighter but her voice was stern. “Yes, I think Tolys relied too much on you, perhaps he didn't mean to but he didn't ask you not to support him, and that's his fault, I told you he was weak-willed.” -She sighed- “Nevertheless, you do have to pay more attention to others, especially your partners. Your relationships don’t last, If I’m not wrong, Alfred was with you the longest but you’d also complain a lot more about how he'd refused to let you pay the bills. Brother, you have to remember that you are working to live and not living to work.”

Ivan smiled, how weird it was for him to get advice from her. “Thank you, Natalya.”

Natalya nodded, waving her hand. “I love you brother but you have to take care of yourself when no one is around. Take a shower and call Tolys, ask him to bring Boris back. We’ll talk later. Don’t forget to talk with Katya.”

He nodded and the call was ended.

Talking with her did change his gloomy attitude. Deciding to follow her instructions he texted Tolys. Receiving the latter's request to retrieve the cat himself. Ivan chuckled, apparently, Boris was giving the brunette a hard time.

Ivan wondered is he should let Tolys be tormented by the fluffy cat another day but refrained from it. It was better not to delay this task anymore.

He headed to the bathroom. Perhaps Tolys could bear with Boris for a couple of hours more, the prospect of a long relaxing bath seemed more appealing to Ivan than to reach Tolys’ new home right away.

[didsomeonesaydaddydraco]

Draco’s pet | d.m

Request: yes! @universallycutecakehoagie

Word count: 2,007

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!reader

Note: Sorry for going a bit MIA, but I had tons of assignments and midterms, and on top of that my laptop totally died :( But I’m back, and I have a lot of ideas for Draco and Tom imagines. So stay tuned. Love you all. xx

Draco had the worst day ever. Ever since the Dark Lord was back, and he was forced to become a Death Eater himself, everything was going downhill for him. He had troubles with sleeping, focusing or just being himself in general. He hated the situation he was in, and wanted to take her hand and run away. Somewhere far, somewhere safe. Somewhere, where they could be alone. Happily. 

When he got out of his last class that day, he wanted nothing, but go up to the Astronomy Tower and be with her. He hadn’t seen her all day, and truth was, he missed her jasmine scented brown hair and those mesmerising bluish-greenish always sparkling eyes. She was the complete opposite of him, but that was what Draco needed. She was everything he wasn’t. She was always happy, saw the good in everything and everyone and always knew how to make Draco feel better and safe. She was a Hufflepuff, but damn, Draco loved that Hufflepuff girl more than anything in his life. She was his Hufflepuff. 

“Cho” Draco called after the Rawenclaw girl, who was chatting with one of the Weasley twins. He knew they were friends, so she might have known where she was “Do you know where Angelina is?”

“No, sorry, Draco” she smiled at him weakly “Haven’t seen her all day. But try the library thou. She might be there, working on her Transfigurations essay”

“Alright, thanks” he nodded and left to find his girl. She had to be somewhere in the Castle. Last night they were together, sneaked out after the Prefects’ checked if everyone was in their own room, and went up to the Tower to cuddle and talk. She was oddly quite the whole time, but Draco thought it was only because of the hundreds of essays they had to turn in just in a very short of time. 

He was beyond terrified when he couldn’t find her neither in the library, nor in the Hufflepuff common room. He even checked the Hospital Wing, but she wasn’t there either. Draco trusted his guts. They had known each other for years, and he knew her better than himself. If something was wrong, or if she was in danger, he would have known it. So instead of running around the Castle like a maniac, he decided to go to the Room of Requirements and work on his mission. He made a mental note to himself, to try and find her before dinner. 

“Hey, mate” Blaise greeted his friend when Draco joined them at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He only nodded back and his eyes scanned the whole Hall, searching for the girl who had been missing for the whole day now. He frowned when he couldn’t find her at the Hufflepuff table, nor with the Golden Trio. Where on Earth she can be? Draco thought to himself and sat down to eat, but his appetite was gone when he thought about Angelina being hurt or worse. Being kidnapped by Voldemort. 

“Mr. Malfoy?” Snape’s monotone and deep voice pulled him back to reality. Draco looked up at his Professor with a questioning look on his face. He hadn’t done anything bad, as fas as he was concerned. “Could you please come with me? I need to discuss an important matter with you.”

Draco stood up and followed the man. For first, he thought they were going to his office, but they soon left the Castle and went to the Forbidden Forest. He knew they had to come here, so no-one could hear what they had to talk about. If they knew, Draco would have been expelled for long now. 

“He is getting rather impatient with you, Draco” Snape looked at his Godson with both worry and disappointment. He knew that the Dark Lord wasn’t playing any games, especially now, that he was so close to finally kill the boy “Can you do it?”

“I just need a couple of more days” Draco said “The cabinet is almost fixed, I’ve been testing it for days now. When it’s done, I’ll let him know myself”

“A week. No more. If you fail, he will not hesitate to kill you” and with that, Snape disappeared, leaving Draco in the Forest alone. He wasn’t scared anymore. After sitting at the same table with Voldemort, and having him walking around the house he used to call home, the Forbidden Forest was a sunny paradise with rainbows and everything nice. Draco was glad that he had the chance ti be alone. Everything was getting too much for him, and he still had no idea where his girlfriend was. He looked up at the clear sky, staring at the full Moon. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be out there, when there were lycanthropes at the edge of changing.

Draco was on his way out of the Forest when he heard a howl and a painful squeak. Before he could think, he was trying to find the source of the voice. Something deep in him told him to stay and try to help. Maybe it was because he hadn’t really done anything nice to anything or anyone in his entire life, apart from being overprotective when it came to look after Angelina. But that was it. He wasn’t the best person, and he knew it. And he desperately wanted to do something good for once. 

“Oh Gosh” he stopped when he saw a lycanthrope, laying on the ground with a bleeding leg. It was trying to stand up, but the second it almost succeeded, it was back on the ground again with an even more painful squeak than before. At first, it didn’t see Draco, but when he took a step closer, he accidentally stepped on a bough which alerted the creature. 

Draco’s greyish blue eyes locked with its yellow ones. There was something mild in its gaze. There was something oddly familiar in the way its eyes twinkled. It was like they were dancing. Every time Draco took a step forward, the creature crawled further. 

“Easy” he extended his arm, indicating that he wasn’t a threat “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you…”

Draco felt his heart beating in his throat. Only if Angelina knew what he was about to do. She would have flipped at him, telling him how reckless it is, and he should call for someone who knows better, or just leave the creature alone. They were dangerous after all. But he had to stay. At least, he had to try to help. He knew it was a human in the first place. Lycanthropy was not a choice by one individual. They didn’t ask for this. So Draco did what he thought would help. He talked to the creature.

“I can see that you are hurt” he said slowly, kneeling down on the cold ground a few steps away from it “I can see that your leg is bleeding. You must be in a lot of pain now.”

The creature looked at him with its head tilted to the side. It was listening to Draco’s calm and slow voice. 

“I want to help you” he swallowed “I am going to tear a piece of my robe and use it to clean your wound” he pointed at his robe and waited for any sign. A small whimp left the creature, so he did as he said. He tore a piece of his robe and slowly reached the injured lycanthrope. He gently cleaned it’s wound, but never broke eye contact. He wanted to be aware of every single move of his and of the creature’s as well. From that close, he could see that how similar the colour of its four coat was to Angelina’s hair. He was getting even more worried now. He still didn’t know where his girlfriend was, and yet, he was trying to help a monster instead of trying to find her. 

“Here you go” he checked if the wound was clean “Now I am going to use another piece to swathe your wound, so dirt will not get in and it will not get infected.”

He talked slowly, and made sure he didn’t made any quick movement which could have scare the creature. He was surprised of the softness if its fur. He always imagined them having a rather coarse hair. When he was down, he sat still and stared at the magical creature in front of him. It was looking at its leg, trying to move it, but it found it painful. 

“You are not that scary at all” he said quietly “They say you are a monster because you are different and you do bad things. That you hurt other people. But wouldn’t it mean we are all monsters?” He played with the sleeves of his robe, which was covering his dark mark “We are alike. I’m a monster too…”

Draco sat there for minutes, just watching the creature in front of him. But those minutes turned into hours and he couldn’t leave. Something kept him there. Sometime after midnight, he fall asleep, leaning back to a nearby tree. 

It was dawn when a whimper woke him up. He jumped up and watched as the creature started to turn back into it’s human form. He was desperate to see who it really was. He had to know they were alright, and didn’t need any more help. Draco had to grab a hold at the tree when he saw the witch in front of him. He thought he was only dreaming. Those beautiful blueish-green eyes were looking at him with so much shame, pain and despair in them.

“Draco” Angelina’s voice was raspy, and filled with pain. She was looking at a pale Draco, who was still holding onto the tree, trying to process everything he had just seen. 

“Angelina?” Draco let go off of the tree and took a step closer to the girl slowly. There she was, hair tangled, blood drained on her leg, and her clothes were torn, barely covering her delicate body. He wasted to time to run up to her and wrap his robe around the girl’s trembling body. He took her face between his hands and looked at her face closely, searching for any other injury apart from the one on her left leg “Thanks Merlin you are alright” he said and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing into her hair. 

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” She asked “Don’t you find me disgusting? How can you still touch me? Kiss me?”

“No, baby, no!” Draco shook his head and looked deeply in her eyes “It’s still you. My blooming little Hufflepuff. I don’t care what you turn into. I just want to keep you safe”

“But I’m a monster, Draco” a tear slipped down her cheek “I had hurt people. What if I will hurt you next time?

“I’m a monster too” he implied to the mark on his forearm “But hey, were are pretty hot monsters, aren’t we?” He winked at her and caressed her back with his fingertips. It made Angelina shiver and smile at the same time “Listen, we all hurt other people. We are not perfect. But I know you, and I know that you would never hurt someone on purpose. You are too pure for that.”

Angelina stood on her tiptoes and kissed Draco. She always knew that she loved him, but what she was feeling in that moment was far beyond love. 

“Besides, I’d imagined you being my bet, but not quite like this” he winked at her.

“Oh shut up, Malfoy and kiss me again” she rolled her eyes and enjoyed her boyfriend obeying her wish. It was something magical in that kiss. Two cursed soul finding their piece of Heaven in each other. The light, brought by their love was stronger that the darkness in them. It made them even. It made them perfect for each other. 

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch18

The Hunt

Word count - 5,487

Quick shout out to @just-another-art-dump for all her help with brainstorming and beta reading the last section. You are a goddess!

Warnings for violence, murder and some yummy spice. Enjoy!

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

--------

V blinked to clear away the sleepiness lingering in his mind. A thick haze of confusion gave him pause; did he have another episode? Where was he? He blinked again, forcing his eyes to focus on his surroundings.

The room was one he recognized instantly. Dark blue walls, posters of rock bands and action films tacked up in places. Splashes of light peeked past the old curtains hanging over a two-paned window. The familiar bookshelf, still messily stuffed with comics and tattoo books, right beside a small desk littered with needles, tubes and other accoutrements. 

Nero’s bedroom, untouched since his death. His heart sank. Of all the places to find himself…

The artist took a shaky breath and tried to clear the cobwebs clinging to the rafters of his mind. Last he recalled, he was evading capture and bearing a fresh gunshot wound. Foggy, half-formed images danced in his memory of walking, lovely red on his hands and the hem of his pants, his own blood oozing lazily from his thigh.

As if thinking of it made it manifest, pain rocketed up his leg, fiery and unrelenting. He gasped and brought his hands to press the ache away. Was he still bleeding? How long had he been out? Panic teased at him for a beat before his palms registered the bandage and his missing pants.

What in the world…?

The pain slid into background noise as he carefully shifted his weight and sat up, panning his gaze until he found the culprit of his treatment.

Hot damn, how the hell did she find us?!

“Excellent question,” he croaked. 

You weren’t awake yet, and faint streaks of scarlet coated your arms as if you tried to wash his blood off but gave up halfway. Hair a mess, clothing wrinkled and a hint of drool hanging from your lips, he’d never seen you so unkempt.

Good, she’s sleeping. Make a break for it, Van Gogh!

Blue feathers swept past his vision but vanished a heartbeat later. He licked his lips. “I doubt walking is wise for now, let alone ‘making a break for it.’”

Fine, but at least strangle her. She’ll only get in the way.

He rolled his eyes. “You do realize she probably saved my life, right?”

Well… I guess. Fine, don’t kill her but don’t let your guard down. 

The artist hummed and Griffon made no further comment. Good enough.

He gritted his teeth and forced his aching body to move closer to you. Shadows hung beneath your eyes and he spotted the remains of yesterday’s makeup, nearly invisible with your hair draped over your cheek. He gently brushed it aside.

Your eyes shot open, instantly alert and aware. “You’re awake… How do you feel?”

“I’ve been better,” he replied with a wry grin. “I’ve also been worse.”

The bed rustled as you sat up and tucked your unruly hair behind your ears, a slight frown turning your lips. “Let me get you something for the pain, one sec.”

Once again summoned by his awareness, he winced as a bolt of agony pulsed up to his hip. By the time it faded, your palm held out two white tablets and a glass of water. 

“Drink slowly,” you said. He obeyed.

An oddly heavy silence hung between you as he lowered the glass. Unspoken words, questions and answers alike searching for the right way to surface. None broke free from their cages of closed lips as you checked his pulse, your touch more medical than personal. 

He hated it. 

“How did you find me?” the artist blurted. 

“You don’t remember? Follow with your eyes, not your head,” you replied, one finger drifting this way and that in his sight. He restrained the urge to bat it away. “You sent me a message.”

You goddamned idiot.

There was no arguing against the truth. He didn’t remember considering sending a message, let alone addressing it to you. It was a miracle it didn’t end up in the inbox of a stranger. 

Still. You could’ve turned him in. After the way he fled your apartment, it would’ve made sense. He took another small sip of water.

“You came even after what happened. Why?”

The finger lowered. Lips pursed, you gave him an indecipherable look. He watched the wheels behind your hazel irises turn; toward what result, he couldn’t say. Regardless, he reveled in watching your intelligence at work.

“Do you remember what you said to my dad? That you loved me?”

His lips twitched. This didn’t bode well. “Yes.”

There, he spotted a twinge of uncertainty in your brow. Worry in the set of your mouth, vulnerability in the wideness of your eyes. “Did you mean it?”

I TOLD you that was a foolish idea.

Vergil’s words barely registered; V’s mind was already spinning, struggling to find an answer. At the time, he thought it was the best way to get your father to behave. By staking a claim to you, he established his willingness to defend you. He hadn’t considered whether the words held weight. The answer you wanted now was obvious, and to voice it would all but guarantee your allegiance. It was simple.

And yet so complicated.

Do I love her? What does love even mean?

Throughout history, love held innumerable definitions. The word was constantly evolving, shifting to encompass more variations than before. The greatest and most enduring tales ever told centered on it, and not a soul on earth could deny its influence. Monuments and cathedrals stood testament to its strength, and endless words written across the centuries praised or cursed its existence.

Love defined humanity. 

Yet how could he know if this was it? What did romantic love feel like? How did one classify such an intangible concept? So many tried, and many more to come. Perhaps the nature of love was variable; why else would everyone have a different idea of what it meant?

Love, like art, must be subjective.

So what is it to me?

“I…” the artist murmured.

His path led the same way with or without you, but he preferred the former. When he knew you’d see the product of his work, its quality improved. You saturated his thoughts, scrawled your name across the walls of his mind with a messiness only doctors managed. 

Your presence eased his nerves, and no other came close to matching your intellect. A worthy opponent for mind games and machinations, you never failed to amaze him with your ability to force his hand. You protected him and gave him shelter when he needed it most, and not once did you demand he change his methods. You respected his views. In time, you might even share them. 

You challenged him, irritated him, turned him on and gave him hope that he may yet escape the cold embrace of loneliness.

And most of all, there was the inexplicable desire to answer your question with truth instead of manipulation. He didn’t want to tell you he meant what he said just to coerce you into being his. Surely that indicated something?

This isn’t a question I can answer in a single word. 

V sighed and met your lovely eyes at last, his response as well-reasoned as he could manage. “I’m not sure. It’s… it’s difficult for me to care for someone, it’s been many years since I tried.”

He paused to lick his lips and assemble another sentence. The answer you wanted remained out of his reach, and he refused to give you the one that would serve his plans best. All he offered was the truth.

Even so, it stung to see the half-hidden disappointment on your face.

“But there’s something there I can’t explain. I just don’t understand the feeling, so I can’t name it,” he concluded. A chorus of pained groans echoed in his mind. 

All you had to say was yes! What the hell is WRONG with you, do you want her to stick around or not?!

You sighed and shifted your weight. He didn’t dare to comment further.

“I think I understand. It… it scares me sometimes, but I can’t deny that I care about you anymore. I can’t keep hiding.”

V released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His heart was pounding, a giddy desire to laugh tickling his throat. Impulse took the reins, and he watched in wonder as his hand moved to take yours.

“You never have to hide again,” he whispered.

~~~~Waras~~~~

Something in his eyes hammered home his words. An earnest, unguardedness that you’d never seen before. Genuine gratitude and honesty, perhaps. You couldn’t look away.

You discarded thought and leaned in. Lips parted and heart hammering against your ribs, frenetic excitement stilling your breath as V did his best to match your movement. 

The kiss was gentle, completely different from what you’d shared at the museum or in your apartment. The world melted away. It was just you and him, everything else was just color and noise, polluting the fragile bond you’d formed. Despite the lies and manipulation, past the tricks and mind games. 

Somehow, like a miraculous seed sprouting in a rocky cliff face, love bloomed in a heart that had never known it.

When at last you pulled away, a lopsided smile curved V’s lips. The emerald pools of his eyes sparkled with genuine affection, and his palm refused to leave your cheek. You didn’t mind. 

In fact, you wanted more.

You kissed him again, harder this time. Lips communicating without words your need, not just for contact but for understanding. Hunger and reckless desire danced across your mouth, your fingers grasping at his chest. You’d never know which of you moaned first; just that the sound sent you careening past the point of no return.

By the time you came up for air, you were helpless.

“Hold still,” you whispered. The artist licked his lips and nodded. 

You wiggled off your jeans, panties tucked within. A soft gasp stroked your ego as you pulled off your top and carefully straddled him, his length hardening against your tingling folds. Gods, how you wanted to feel him deep within, feel his body arcing to meet yours as his voice gave out in a whirlwind of pleasure.

But that would have to wait. This time, he needed to let you do all the work. 

“If you lift your hips, I’m getting off. Got it?”

His palms traced fire over your hips, blazing over your body as he smirked at you. Damn him, the smug bastard. “Doctor’s orders?”

You almost moaned at the husky tone he used. “Just say yes, damnit.”

His smirk vanished. Lithe fingers took hold of your ass and gently pulled, guiding you to envelop him one inch at a time. His brows met and his lips fell open, his face an expression of sheer perfection your imagination could never capture.

“Yes…” he murmured. 

He fit perfectly, stretching you just enough without being painful. The ridge of his head pushed past your inner muscles and sent a shockwave of pleasure throughout your limbs. Your slick walls shuddered at the welcome fullness, embracing his heat like a long lost friend. Like he belonged there.

Like he was coming home.

For a moment, you didn’t move, wanting to memorize the feeling of being with him for the first time. A choice made many weeks past set your life on course to this exact moment, your every decision only bringing you closer. Two stars orbiting each other, closer and faster with each second as two became one in a fiery explosion that shook the heavens.

You smiled, hands snaking around his neck as you rolled your hips. Nerves sang as you moved, crying out in exultant joy. It was torture to move so slowly, such exquisite agony when all you wanted was to slam against his hips and feel his need splitting you in half.

Slick fluid coated him in seconds as you moved. Each movement pulled him deeper, deeper, deeper. Hot breath spilled from his lips, soft moans from yours. His hands gripped your hip bones, urging you to keep going, his muscles flexing to help you rise and fall, guiding you to impale yourself over and over. 

Beads of sweat broke out across your back, but you paid them no mind. It was worth it to hear the man curse and gasp, his eyes hooded and skin flushed from your attention. The time would come for him to show you how he liked it, but for now you reveled in the power you held. It took all your strength to keep from bouncing recklessly. 

But the artist was no passenger, and his grip shifted to tangle in your hair and drag your mouth to his for a searing kiss. His tongue danced a tango with yours, flicking and darting back and forth to torture you with his intoxicating taste. Whimpers flowed from your throat only for him to swallow. 

Why the fuck didn’t we do this sooner?

The artist grinned against your needy lips, his lithe fingers lowering to tease at your core. Your body quivered as he lazily painted bliss over your aching bundle, as if you were his latest canvas. He spewed filth as he hunted for that perfect spot, his touch taunting you with ecstasy long before he struck gold. 

“That’s it, right there, come on!” you gasped out, arcing back at the brink of ecstasy..

The artist obeyed, tugging you down again to suckle at your pulse. His lips were heaven on your throat, and his teeth nirvana when he blessed you with a nibble. It was too much and somehow not enough, never enough, never- 

FUCK!

The world flashed blindingly white, searing your retinas as you crested. The cosmos raced by, the colors and shapes too beautiful to understand. Brilliance and beauty, a kaleidoscope of life. A silken voice moaned praise somewhere nearby, a wet tongue dancing over your chest between words. Losing control never felt so good. 

Beneath your spasming body, V’s hips twitched. He sucked in a breath but the pulsing of his cock against your soaked core didn’t ease, his moans changing to a tone you weren’t familiar with. Lower and louder, more breathy in the grip of his orgasm, resonant and musical. You flexed around him, tightening as much as you could manage to feel every throb.

When at last he fell still, it took all your willpower to dismount and check his bandage for fresh blood. You’d rather have curled up at his side and revelled in the afterglow, but that would have to wait. This wasn’t a feel-good made for TV movie where the realities were tossed aside in the wake of a long-awaited union; life didn’t stop just because two people wanted it to.

If only it were that easy.

Thankfully, you didn’t find any cause for concern. A slight dribble, but already clotting. You made sure the wrapping was still tight and laid back, content for now as his slim arms wrapped around you.

His fingers stroked your hair, lazily pulling apart any tangles he found in the process. It was so peaceful, so normal to just lie there and forget the world, but you didn’t let yourself enjoy it for long. Reality wasn’t going anywhere.

“So, now what?” you asked. “We can’t stay in one place too long.”

V sighed, his fingers stilling. “Especially here; they’ll connect it to me far too easily.”

You rose on one arm, giving him a quizzical look. “Why?”

The artist closed his eyes. His jaw flexed and for a moment you feared you’d gone too far, pried too deeply without thinking, but you didn’t dare try to backpedal.

“This… this is Nero’s room,” he responded at last.

Oh. Oh, no…

There were no words to ease the tension his words brought. You knew full well the efforts he took in order to conceal his past, and here you were, invading it. 

Minutes passed in utter silence. An apology lingered on your lips, but without knowing the full story it felt insincere. Not long ago, you would have spoken the words without thought, but now… Now you wanted to only say things you meant.

At last, V broke the stillness. 

“We need to move. I’ll…” he paused, as if the words pained him. “I’ll need your help.”

“You have it,” you replied. No hesitation, no weighing of the pros and cons. If he needed you, you would be there. 

“There’s only one way to guarantee we won’t be disturbed.”

You sighed, heart heavy but unwavering. “I know.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “There’s no going back after this.”

You almost laughed. “There’s already no going back.”

He hummed, satisfied. Yes, you knew exactly what he meant. The only way to make sure you found an unoccupied home…

Was to slay the homeowner.

~~~Nico~~~

Nico gritted her teeth as the flash of a camera blinded her yet again. She hated reporters. They just wanted sensationalist headlines, not actual facts and definitely not to calm the public. 

If folks stayed calm, they wouldn’t sell papers. 

Damned vultures.

“As I said, this is an ongoing investigation so there’s only so much I can say,” she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “Next question.”

The clamoring turkeys all started shouting, arms lifted almost as an afterthought. She wanted to scream at them. “Yeah, you, in the front.”

A brown haired man smiled at her, his comrades falling still for a merciful moment. “Jim Kovelli, Red Grave Daily. How can citizens stay safe until you make an arrest?”

Finally, something she could actually answer. “Thanks, Jim. We strongly recommend people travel in groups of at least two, preferably three as we have reason to believe the killer has an accomplice. All the victims so far were alone when they were… uh…”

Shit! I’m not supposed to mention the victims, or the methods he’s used. We don’t want a copycat.

She struggled to find words. If she tried to start over, the frenzy would only worsen. The vultures knew blood was in the water and they didn’t know the meaning of mercy. Her heart pounded, desperation seeping through her mind. Saying the wrong thing here might get somebody killed. Why the fuck did the chief want her to talk to the press?

I’m nobody! It shoulda been someone more experienced up here.

A heavy tread approached, Tony coming to her rescue yet again. Damnit, this was her first press conference, and she botched it. Even though she knew she wasn’t the best person for the job, she’d wanted to do it well, earn a little respect. How was she gonna look her partner in the eye after this?

“Folks, this isn’t rocket science. Stay in groups, don’t go off with people you don’t know, and report any strange behavior immediately. If you see something, do not intervene but call the hotline. The killer and his accomplice are likely armed and considered extremely dangerous. Don’t be a hero. Next question, please.”

Nico hung her head and stepped back, letting Tony take her place at the podium. Her heart sank, and she sighed. This case was just… it was tearing her apart. She barely ate, and she couldn’t remember the last time she slept through the night. Even showering seemed like a distraction.

“Magda Dunham, Buzzfeed News. What can you tell us about the accomplice?”

Nico glared at the crowd of reporters. Didn’t they realize their incessant questions took time away from the real police work? It’s not like she could review Waras’ file during this charade. 

Yet Tony gave a kind, calming smile, seemingly unfazed. How the hell did he do that, keep his face from showing how fucked the situation was? A law-abiding citizen, with no goddamn criminal record and a pristine reputation, now believed to be aiding a psycho killer. It was insane.

“While we can’t release any names yet, we have reason to believe a female is assisting the killer. She is intelligent and well versed in psychology, and may try manipulation tactics or coercion to get someone alone. Again, do not travel alone and be wary of strangers. Last question, guys,” her mentor replied.

A swarm of voices answered him, and he pointed to a face in the back. “Penny Slope, The Weekly. Is the psychiatric hospital going to close, or are you content to let killers stay in the city?”

Tony barely twitched. If she’d gotten that question, Nico knew she would have snapped. The hospital wasn’t the issue here; the killer was!

“We are never content to allow killers to roam our streets, and we won’t rest until our city is safe. All I can say about the psychiatric hospital specifically is that they’re implementing additional security measures and we’re working closely with their staff to make sure our friends and neighbors are protected. I’m afraid that’s all the time we have, though. Thank you all for coming out.”

The horde shouted more questions even as Nico and Tony stepped away. Flashes left her blinking, blinded and ready to smack someone if they got too close, but her partner had her back. His warm hand guided her inside the station and back to the conference room. 

“You okay, kid?”

Her vision flared red. She was not a kid. Inexperienced, yes. But a kid?

“No. You know what, hell no! Those piss ants are just lookin’ for a headline, they don’t give a shit that people are dying! There’s a damned murderer out there and all they want is someone to blame! It pisses me off. Not to mention we know who the killer is, but for some reason we still can’t say his name or identify the doctor! It’s fucking bullshit! People need to know who to look for, right now all they’re gonna do is panic anytime someone sticks out!”

She slammed her fist against the table and growled, “And I ain’t no kid.”

Tony tossed his hat on the table and ruffled his hair. His face finally showed something other than a mask of composure, falling into exhaustion as he sat down and sighed.

“I know. You’re right.”

Nico’s jaw dropped. “Wh- what?”

Tired blue eyes met confused brown. “I said, you’re right. It is bullshit. I don’t know why the chief is pussy footing around on this. All I can say is that if you wanna stay on the case, you gotta do as you're told. Especially in the public eye.”

Nico’s rage evaporated at the defeated tone of her mentor’s voice. She pulled out a chair and sat beside him. “But how do you keep it together? How do you stay so calm when they’re asking you such dumbass questions?”

Tony shrugged. “We protect everyone. Even the idiots.”

The young brunette took her glasses off and stared into the lenses. All she wanted was to catch this guy, why couldn’t it just be that straightforward? The press, the people, office politics, it was all just a waste of time. 

Hell, maybe if people stopped distracting her she’d have caught the fucker by now.

A warm weight settled on her shoulder. She glanced up at Tony, disheartened and desperate for any answers he could offer. “Hang in there, Nico. You’re a great cop. You just need to get the hang of the crappy part of the job.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

Eventually, Tony wandered off and left her to her thoughts. His words helped, but she still wanted to punch somebody. Preferably, the god damned doctor. 

I don’t just wanna catch V now. I gotta get her, too. 

She picked up her glasses and stood, mind focused once again. She couldn’t give up, no way. A little more work and they’d be hers to arrest, her need for justice satiated at last. Giving up wasn’t an option. 

~~~~Waras~~~~

Blood rushed in your ears. Sweat prickled the back of your neck, hidden under the dark hood of your sweatshirt. Cheerful music played on the grocery store’s speakers. It jangled against your nerves as you surveyed the shoppers, searching for a target that fit the parameters you and V agreed to. 

Someone alone, preferably small. Not buying enough food for more than themselves. The less attention they pay to their surroundings, the better.

It was all happening so fast, you’d barely had a chance to wrap your head around it. For so long, you’d tried to blend in, tried to hide your deficiencies. The walls you built to protect yourself weren’t meant to crumble, but to last an age. You’d gotten so used to it, you almost forgot normalcy was an act.

But V broke through, first with a whisper and now with a shout. His voice grew louder each day, beckoning you out of your disguise. He was pollen and you were a bee. Madness was no cage to him - it was freedom. Regret held no sway, doubt and hesitation banished from his mind. 

The prison you built for yourself was yours to shatter, and choosing a target was just one step closer.

There weren’t many people who suited your needs. An older woman browsing cat food, an awkward teenage boy peeking at condoms, or a person with no obvious gender looking at cereal. 

You bit your lip and tried to slow your racing heart. With V’s injury, making the choice fell to you, as did leading the target to an isolated area. The artist hadn’t asked you to make the killing blow, but the end result was the same.

I’m taking part in murder.

The thought held a curious excitement. No fear or disgust, as you knew it should, but a desire to know more. You wanted to understand what it meant to kill, go through every stage of the process and analyze it, piece by piece. 

There’s so much I want to know.

You grabbed a box of macaroni and added it to your cart. Not only were you tailing potential victims, you were also getting a few essentials. It helped you blend in, and who knew what you’d find in your victims home? You had to make sure V ate, to get his strength back and heal.

A jar of pasta sauce joined the macaroni. There wasn’t anything else in the aisle you needed, so you left and followed the cat lady toward checkout. Her cart was barren, save for dozens of tins and a bag of kibble. Did she eat cat food, too?

She was the obvious choice. The teenager browsing condoms probably had a girlfriend who’d miss him, and he was too young to be a homeowner. The non-conforming third option left too much to chance. You didn’t have enough information to know if they fit your needs. The cat lady held the least risk.

Step one complete. On to step two.

How do I get her to follow me behind the store to where V’s waiting?

You didn’t have long to decide. She was about to pay, her car keys already in her palm.

Lips pursed, you handed a twenty to the cashier ringing you up and quickly took your bags. Your target was mere seconds ahead of you. No more time to think; it was now or never. You took a deep breath.

“Excuse me, miss?” you began. She was a bit old to be called miss, but most women took it as a compliment. It might help break the ice.

She turned to face you, peering through her bifocals. “Yes?”

Your stomach churned. If you messed this up, you’d have to start over somewhere else, forcing V to travel when every step brought agony. He claimed it wasn’t bad, but you knew better. 

“Sorry to bother you, but um… do you think you could help me? My friend lives in the apartments back there,” you paused to point at the cluster of buildings behind the shop. “And he says his cat just went into labor. He’s scared to move her, but he thinks she needs a vet and neither of us have a car! Can you maybe drive us, please?”

You bit your lip and tried to look desperate even as endorphins flooded your circulatory system. 

“Of course! I couldn’t let the poor thing suffer,” she paused, glancing to the side. “But… well, with everything that’s been going on, I’m not comfortable going inside. Will you two be able to bring her down?”

You allowed your expression to collapse into relief. “Yes, thank you! Let me show you where to bring the car, it’ll be faster this way.”

“What’s your name, dear? I’m Margaret.”

“Emily. It’s nice to meet you, Margaret,” you replied, pausing just long enough to shake her withered hand. One foot already in the grave.

The woman nodded and followed without protest as you led her behind the shop. The area wasn’t well lit and shadows painted a sinister backdrop over the cold cement. V’s hiding place was just ahead.

“It’s dark back here… maybe we should stay on the main roads, just to be safe?” the woman said. Damn, she was more vigilant than you first thought. You didn’t slow.

“It’s just around the corner, I promise!”

She frowned, but took another few steps to keep up. People instinctively keep moving if the person in front of them does. One more step, and she’d be in V’s range. Your breathing froze, head spinning as you turned around to see him in action at last, to watch the killer in his element.

He didn’t let you down.

Green eyes saw nothing but their target, utterly focused on the task at hand. Despite his injury, he moved with singular purpose. His mouth a thin line, the artist didn’t make a sound as he swung a scavenged length of pipe at the back of Margaret’s head. A sickly, wet crackle and a wheezing gasp barely preceded her collapse onto the pavement.

Whoa… Did he just kill her in one blow?

You stepped closer and pressed two fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse. It was weak and thready, but she was still alive. You said as much to V and rose.

The artist smirked and adjusted his beanie. “Care to do the honors?”

A tattooed hand held out the bloody pipe, as if he were offering nothing more than a turn in a batting cage. Your legs turned to jelly and a flash mob of butterflies careened though your digestive tract. Goosebumps erupted across your spine and you struggled to swallow the golf ball in your throat. You hadn’t expected this, not yet.

“Hm, maybe not,” he said. “That’s fine, I’m happy to demonstrate. Watch closely.”

He limped to Margaret’s helpless body, humming as he crouched down to turn her head towards you. A thin line of blood trickled from her open lips. The briefest pang of guilt teased at you. She’d seemed like a nice person.

“It’s better when they’re awake, but this will do,” the artist murmured. He raised the pipe high.

I’m about to watch this woman die.

Time slowed to a crawl as V struck. His face contorted into a vicious snarl, rage and fury engraved in his features. He was raw and exposed, possibly the purest version of himself you’d yet seen. Animalistic and predatory, thrilled by his supremacy.

And yet…

In the moment the pipe crushed Margaret’s skull and sprayed hot blood across the pavement, there was something else. A sadness almost like grief. A brokenness hidden behind his wrath, as if he were killing a part of himself instead of an unlucky stranger. 

And then it was over, the pipe clanging as the artist dropped it. The expression vanished, masked behind a smirk. You wondered if he was even aware of the change, if he felt the anger and the loss. 

What the hell did I just see? 

But this wasn’t the time to figure it out, as V’s pained gasp reminded you. He’d been upright for far too long, and after a swing like that his wound must be excruciating. You shoved aside your confusion and curiosity, forcing your mind to prioritize your current predicament. Philosophical explorations could wait.

V limped back to lean on a wall as you rifled through Margaret’s purse. Her wallet and keys were all you needed, and the second you had them, you went to the artist.

“The address on her license isn’t far. Come on.”

It wouldn’t be safe for long. As soon as the body was found, you’d have to move again. The best you could hope for was a couple of days, two or three if you were lucky. Enough time for the artist’s wound to start knitting back together and for you to process the last twenty-four hours. 

It’s been a long day. 

You hoped Margaret had a comfortable bed.

~~~Next Chapter~~~

[welcome-home-official]

WIP- The car ride home.

The word 'father' rotted in her mouth. Not too long ago, Twig would have called the man in front of her that without a second thought. She had no reason not to; he raised her and he loved her, did whatever he could to make sure she was safe. That's what fathers did, after all.

Things changed during Twig's third year at Hogwarts. For the past two years, she was used to dealing with odd looks and murmurings from her classmates, but it wasn't really anything she paid attention to. She had friends, and that was all that mattered, but then they started to not want to spend time with her anymore, because, at least of what they claimed, they heard about her and her father.   Twig couldn't remember what prompted her curiosity, but from what she was hearing, she wanted to make sure if there was any truth to it.

Professor Snape was a honest, if brutally blunt man. As harsh as he was, he had no reason to lie to his pupils. On top of that, Twig knew that he knew Fenrir. Surely, he'd know if these rumors had any water to them, right?

Snape had not spared her feelings with the truth. Twig thought she had been prepared to hear it, holding onto some distant hope that most of the rumors had been false.  It did more than sting; it gutted her, and left a poisonous toad in her stomach.  She hadn't stopped feeling ill since.

Summer vacation was now here. As Twig sat in the old beat up car, she couldn't even bring herself to look at her father's face. She had no idea where they were heading; Fenrir had relocated again since she was at school, a common thing that she had been used to all her life.  She had been told the reason was to keep safe; now she knows it was to stay hidden, undetectable.

Twig dared a glance in his direction. Fenrir looked as he always had; a careworn face brutalized by years of harsh weather and fighting; she noticed a new scar under his eye. Too small to have been from another werewolf. He drummed his long, gnarled fingers on the steering wheel impatiently, those long, yellowed nails glinting briefly in the sunlight. For a moment, Twig imagined them covered in blood. Blood of other children.  How could he claim to love and care about her when he hurt so many others like her?

Forcing herself to look away, Twig instead tried to focus on the car beside of them. A bright blue truck, a young man was adjusting his tie in the mirror, smoothing his brown hair back. Just a normal muggle, on his way to do normal muggle things, like office work, worrying about ordinary muggle things, like taxes.

Traffic started to move again. Twig watched as the blue truck pulled away down anoher road, before she shifted in her seat, holding her carry-on bag on her lap. She looked over again, this time catching her father's steely blue gaze.

"You've been awfully quiet, Twig."  He stated. Twig wished that he'd stop looking at her; those eyes that she once found comfort in were now scrutinizing her, making her feel smaller. "Normally you'd be chattin' off. What's up?"

Such a casual, lightly concerned tone. Twig wondered if it was genuine, or if he was playing up the part of a concerned parent. He had been lying to her successfully her whole life; if he was lying about what he did and why they had to move a lot, did he also lie about caring for her?

"I'm tired." She lied.  Fenrir cocked an eyebrow.

"Didn't you sleep?"

"No..I was too nervous."  That wasn't a lie; she had been stressing over coming home, spending three months with the man she clearly did not know as well as she thought she did.

"There's nothing to be nervous about. You passed your classes, didn't you?"  He pulled off down a dirt road that led down through a field of cows grazing. "Snape kept me updated with your school progress. You did exceedingly well this year, except for flying."

"I'm scared of heights," Twig defended, "Wolves don't belong in the sky, you told me that when I asked for you to teach me before."

"That I did." Greyback smiled gently, understanding, "And Madam Hooch won't make you if you don't want to; be lucky you have her as your flying instructor instead of the one I had when I was there."

"What did your instructor do?"

"He took our class up to the Astronomy tower and made us jump. If we refused, he pushed us. Fly or die, as he said."

"And did anyone die?"

"Nope. Oddly effective motivator, isn't it?"

Twig couldn't help but chuckle; for a moment, she had forgotten why she had been unwilling to return with him in the first place, but the dark cloud settled over her again, the weight back in her stomach.

[justlostinautumn]

Abandoned 2

Klaus Mikaelson x Fem!Reader:

Part 1

After her friends and boyfriend continuously leave her in danger and abandon every plan she makes for them the Originals slowly mend her breaking heart. The gang’s enemies become her friends with her and they don’t know how to feel about it. The last straw is walking in and seeing her boyfriend cheating on her and she runs to the ones who always care for her. What will the gang do when they lose something irreplaceable?

Y/N’s head was throbbing as she woke up in Damon’s bed. Wait… why am I in Damon’s bed? Where’s Elena? Is Elena okay? She shook her head and tried to piece together everything that happened, she remembered arguing with Damon about Klaus and then something hit her. What hit her? Who hit her? She crawls out of the bed and walks downstairs to see the gang all huddled together discussing something. She gently massaged her temples trying to dull her throbbing head. She pauses as she notes their demeanor they seemed tense and somewhat frustrated, Y/N could see that Elena was back to herself and was sat far too close to Damon and that nagging voice returned to the back of Y/N’s head… the one that sounded oddly like her mother reminding her that she will never be enough. That maybe Damon was cheating on her with Elena, because why wouldn’t he. It’ll always be Elena. The vicious thought passes through her mind, shaking her dispelling the thought she walks into the room. Feeling a little dizzy at the movement making her wonder what really did hit her… a baseball bat?

“Hey, what happened?” Y/N looked around the room and her eyes landed on Tyler who looked sad for her and gave her a weak smile that said everything to her. Even though she wasn’t completely surprised, it still hurt to know that they would do that to her. She took a deep breath preparing for whatever was gonna come her way.

“You passed out,” Caroline said and Y/N looked at Caroline as she rubbed the back of her head and felt a lump. Passed out my ass, that’s a fancy lump for passing out! Y/N thought to herself. What did she expect, the truth for once? That's what she expected… that’s what she does deserve, the truth right?

“Yeah after something heavy hit the back of my head.” Y/N gave them a look indicating that she didn’t believe them and that she wanted the truth. They all looked at one another unsure on what to say.

“Y/N…” Damon started but stopped when Y/N's hardened gaze fell on him, he swallowed and knew that they had messed up royally. But, the biggest question was what’s changed? Why was this time different?

“Don’t try it, tell me who hit me!” The throbbing was getting slightly worse and Y/N was getting more confused and frustrated. She honestly just wanted to go to bed and sleep it off.

“It was Kol!” Elena said and Y/N just frowned at her trying to think what she could have done to infuriate one of her best friends. Also, if Elena was suffering from a werewolf bite maybe she was hallucinating. None of this was making sense, it was just making her headache worse… that pain that makes you want to hit your head against the wall just to see if it would make the pain disappear. That, or throw up… neither a great option.

“He was still mad at me for the baseball bat incident.” Damon walked towards Y/N and she stepped back, something was off she knew he was lying. He was looking just above her head rather than in the eye and Y/N just shook her head and looked at Tyler. That was something she noticed as of late, Damon barely looked her in the eye anymore. None of them did, this was going to end today… she couldn’t keep doing this anymore. Shaking her head made her dizzy and she gripped onto one of the side units until her vision cleared and the room stopped spinning. She can’t keep living like this, when will it stop? When will they stop using her? When she’s dead?

“Ty, what happened?” Y/N looked at the only person she trusted at that moment, she just needed the truth.

“Jeremy hit you over the head to get Klaus’ attention. Klaus came and healed Elena on the condition they told you what happened.” Tyler walked over to Y/N and looked her in the eye, lifting her chin so that she met his eyes, “I didn’t know, I swear.” The burning honesty made her want to cry. Why was he the only one who could be honest to her?

“I believe you, Ty.” Y/N looked at everyone else in the room and Damon was glaring at Tyler and Elena looked like she was about to cry and give her some sob story. Y/N was already exhausted and done with it all.

“Y/N…” Jeremy started and Y/N whirled around and glared at him, gripping Tylers arm for stability. The headache was easing and the dizziness was passing, but quick movements still made her feel a little light headed. But, that was pushed aside because all she can feel currently is an annoyance she’s never felt before.

“No! I understand anything for Elena, but I am tired and my head is killing. I’m going to leave you guys to do whatever. I need a drink!” Y/N shakes her head and pats Tyler’s shoulder as a sign of goodbye he knew well, a talk to you later when I’ve had a moment to think. A moment to accept something she’s known for a while but decided to ignore.

“Y/N are you going to be okay?” She could hear the worry in Tyler’s voice and she looked at him as she rubbed her temple, trying to ease the throbbing. She made note to take some painkillers when she gets a moment, maybe that would be able to help with the throbbing.

“Eventually.” Was all she said and he knew what it meant. Tyler knew it meant she would learn to live with it, learn to be okay again. She was the strongest person he had ever met and she is one of the many reasons he is who he is today. Despite everything that had happened to him and those around him she was the one who helped him deal with everything, even before he knew what he was. Even when he was an asshole to everyone, Y/N was always there no matter what. So, he swore he’d always do the same no matter what.

“Where are you going?” Damon demanded, he almost sounded like he was a caring boyfriend and it made Y/N snort and when she looked at him she could see he was serious. This caused her to laugh bitterly, surprising everyone. She had to take a moment to collect herself before she continued this conversation.

“Why do you care?” Y/N sighed, she couldn’t pretend to be happy that he was showing interest in her when she knew for a fact he only cared because he was scared she was going to tell Klaus they lied to her. What did it matter if they did? It wasn’t the first time and truthfully he couldn’t say it would be the last time either.

“You’re my girlfriend. I love you.” Damon said softly walking up to her and caressed her cheek and Y/N flinched slightly at his touch, she had never done that before and it shocked everyone. Was she scared he was going to hurt her? Damon couldn’t help but think that she was scared he was going to hurt her… had he hurt her? Yes he had. He had done things he promised he never would. He’d used her and abused her love for him, for his and his friends' gain. He’d allowed them all to use her for whatever reason and in some cases even offered her up as a solution.

“Damon, you’re my boyfriend not my father. I am going out for a drink.” She looked him dead in the eye as she spoke to him, something is missing from her eyes and he cannot seem to figure out what it is and it unsettles him. This wasn’t Y/N, this was someone they didn’t know. Where was that spark? Did they dim it so much that it was now lost to them?

“With who?” Damon growled, Y/N was tired of this and her head tilted back as she let out a deep breath looking at the ceiling. Damon could see her frustration and he knew he wasn’t helping the situation but he just couldn’t help it. Y/N never lost her temper and it was clear she was trying not to now.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Y/N shrugged, as much as she wanted to sit and have a drink with the gang she wasn’t sure she could stomach looking at them at this moment. She needs a moment to be alone and come to terms with what just happened and how she felt about it all. She couldn’t do that with them around, breathing down her neck. Why was this too much to ask for? Why did they always need to have total and utter control over her?

“We’ll come with you,” Damon said and Y/N laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. Of course because she needs babysitters!

“No, you won’t. Damon, I’m tired! I don’t want to be around the people who just knocked me out. I need a little time okay?” Y/N tilted her head and looked at Damon, her eyes soft and the small smile she gave him broke his heart. Damon realised she didn’t hate him for what he did, or the decision he made but she needs time to process it all. She’s never asked him to change… she has never asked anything from him other than this. She knew it’d always be Elena and everyone else over her and she’d accepted that but it doesn’t mean she can’t have a moment for herself… a moment to be selfish.

“Okay.” He sighs out knowing it was a losing battle. Y/N phone rings and she sees it on the side and looks at the ID and sees that it’s Klaus and a small smile plays on her lips and she answers it. She felt relief and calm wash over her... was peace. That is exactly what she needed and this is the exact person she wanted to talk too.

Klaus, The Original & Co.:

Once they got back they told them everything, from their little trip to the Salvatore’s Boarding House. There were a lot of comments made about the stupidity of the gang and wondering how long till Y/N finally broke down, they could already see that she was fraying and her patience thinning.

“Who do you think they’ll blame?” Katherine asked as she twirled her hair as she lounged across an armchair, her legs dangling over the arm. She was rather amused thinking about it, Katherine had her money on either Kol or Kai.

“Me?” Klaus asked frowning wondering if she would question them or if she would just believe everything they told them. But, he brushed that thought away quickly when he realised he was being absurd. She knew better than to believe everything they said, plus Tyler would be truthful.

“They wouldn’t dare use you brother considering you healed Elena,” Elijah spoke, patting Klaus on the shoulder, it wouldn’t make sense why he would knock her out just to heal Elena.

“My bet is either Kol or Kai,” Hayley smirked at the two and they both gave her offended looks, chuckled softly and nodded in agreement Katherine.

“What?” Kol shouted.

“Why us?” Kai pouted causing the rest to laugh.

“Because you two have the biggest issues with Damon.” Davina dropped next to Kol and gave him a little peck on the cheek, hugging him tightly.

“I hit him with a baseball bat, so what? He staked me with one!” Kol growled, he was pissed that he would be a patsy. Would Y/N believe it was him? No, she knew he’d never hurt her. They’re best friends, he cares about her.

“She wouldn’t believe them, she knows them better than anyone else and can always tell when they are lying… when any of us are lying.” Freya points out to them with a small shudder going down her spine. It was irey at how good she was at knowing when people lie to her. She never called them out right, she always waited till they were ready to be truthful and she was never mean about it.

“She must be up, right? I want to check on her.” Klaus spoke and they all nodded he put his phone on speaker and let it ring waiting for her to pick up feeling nervous someone else would. What if something really bad happened to her after they left? They should’ve just taken her with them. At least they would know she’s okay… safe.

“Hey, Nik.” Her voice filled the room and they all sighed in relief.

“Little Love you’re okay.” Nik smiled at his phone wondering if she was smiling like he was. If she felt the same calm at the sound of his voice, like he does at the sound of hers.

“As good as I can be, Ty told me what happened. Thank you, Nik.” He could hear her smile and he knew what she meant by what she said and he was grateful that Tyler was there, to be honest with her… at least someone was honest with her other than them. She needs more people like that in life.

“What’s the plan?” He looked at his siblings and friends as he asked the question, wondering if they could do anything for her.

“I’m gonna go for a drink and unwind most probably, then I’m gonna go home.” Rebekah frowned at the phone at the idea of her going home, Y/N had told her that things were getting tense at home at the moment. Rebekah always worried about Y/N and her safety with everyone in her life. How must she be feeling? What must she be thinking? Does she think and feel like she has no one there for her? Because she’s wrong she has all of them… they would always be there for her no matter what.

“Can I come?” Kol asked, smirking. He hadn’t seen Y/N and wanted to check on her. He needed to see her in person, not just hear her voice.

“Sure Kol, on one condition.” They knew she was smirking, enjoying it more than they would ever know.

“What would that be Little One?” Kol smiled, curious and would agree to anything to make her happy, like they all would.

“You bring your brothers apparently I owe them a drink… and Bekah you and I can have a girls day at some point, you can even dress me up if you want.” Y/N laughed through the phone as they all stared at it as the warmth of her laugh washed over them. It was a sound that was so pure and innocent, they loved it so much.

“We will meet you there, Love” Klaus smiled and then hung up his phone. Sighing in relief that he was going to see she’s okay.

“They lied to her,” Elijah said simply, with a frown.

“I didn’t think they’d be forthcoming.” Klaus nodded, with a smirk he knew they’d lie. They always did.

“Then why make that deal with them?” Rebekah was slightly confused, it didn’t make sense to her.

“I wanted to see how scared they are about losing her, telling her the truth would have meant they knew she would forgive them and they wouldn’t have to worry. Lying meant that Damon fears she is going to run and run to us.” Klaus nodded as he got ready to leave, to see his little love.

Y/N & The Gang:

“Seriously?” Elena whined when Y/N finally put the phone down. A small smile on her lips from her conversation with Klaus and co. quickly slipped off her face.

“What?” Y/N looked at her slightly confused by her complaining now. What was her problem now? What was she whining about now?

“Klaus, Kol and Elijah?” Elena bitched and Y/N took a deep breath and looked at her tilting her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. There’s that headache again!

“It should be you buying Klaus a drink, considering he did just save your life. So maybe, just maybe show a little respect and just be grateful.” Y/N was getting more frustrated and the headache was getting worse with Elena’s whining and she started to walk away, she needed space so she could have a chance to clear her head.

“I think you should have some of my blood before you leave Jeremy hit you pretty hard.” Stefan looked at her and she laughed slightly. It was a bitter sound and it took them all by surprise. This was a new side to her, they’d never seen this side of her and they were beginning to worry what it meant for them.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.” Y/N didn’t want them to feel obligated to help her, she knows she most probably should take some but she doesn’t want to owe them anything… if anything they owed her a debt they will never be able to repay. It felt like they were only offering to help to ease their guilt… it was only ever Stefan though. Why… Why was Damon never the one to offer?

Y/N walked out of the Boarding House fed up with the conversation and wanting to be out of there. She could hear the calls of her friends but decided to ignore them and made her way to The Grill. Could she call them friends with the way they treat her?

Y/N & The Originals:

The Grill was mainly empty when she got there and she walked to the bar and saw that Matt was serving. He gave her a soft smile and she nodded back to him, rubbing her temples.

“What can I get you?” Matt asked as he cleaned a glass.

“Vodka.” She said with closed eyes. Not really paying attention to his worried look.

“Hard day?” Matt asked. Y/N knew he already knew what happened at the Boarding House, as much as Matt says he wants no involvement she knows he knows everything. He always knew, it was like a moth to a flame hard to resist.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to drink in peace.” She gave him a look that he knew not to mess with. Y/N rarely got angry or annoyed at any of them, so the dark look she gave him made Matt freeze before he went and got her a drink. Without question or pause.

Y/N heard the door open and she looked over her shoulder to see Klaus, Kol and Elijah walk in and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She was greeted with a warm smile from Elijah and smirks from Klaus and Kol. A calm settled and the throbbing of her head seems to disappear and it’s soothing.

“Thought you might need this.” Klaus pulled a vial of blood from his pocket, she knew it was his. She was going to refuse, but she knew she wasn’t going to be able to get out of it.

“Thank you.” She gave him a quick hug before uncorking it and drinking it down, feeling the throbbing in her head start to disappear. She knew better than trying to say she’ll take it later, it’d never worked.

“Who did they blame?” Kol held out his hand to help her off the stool so they could sit in a booth. He had a smirk on his lips but Y/N could see the worry in his eyes.

“You.” She smirked at him and laughed at his horrified face. She knew why he was worried. It was a worry he’d confessed to her once when he was drunk. The fear she would see him for the monster he is and so many other people believe him to be and decide she would never want to be around him ever again.

“You didn’t believe them?” Kol tilted his head down and a frown formed, Y/N was sat opposite him with Klaus next to her and Elijah next to Kol. He didn’t see the sadness that washed over her features at the thought.

“No, Kol I know you’d never hurt me.” Y/N reached across and gave his hand a light squeeze and a tender smile drawing a soft smile from him. A smile that made them all smile. It was a beautifully calm moment that allowed her to relax.

“You’re okay right?” Klaus was worried and Y/N couldn’t help but lean into his side and warmth. It soothed them both being close to one another. They knew the other was safe and protected.

“I’m fine, Nik.” She sighed, Klaus knew she was holding back and wanted her to tell him. He wanted to demand her to tell him, but that would never work and would only drive her away from him and into their arms. So, he would wait for her.

“Little One, Rebekah is excited for your little dress up, but I worry Katherine, Hayley, Freya and Davina feel a little neglected,” Elijah smirks at Y/N who rolls her eyes and chuckles, a crooked smile on her lips.

“Marcel and Kai are also feeling a little left out.” Kol laughs and Y/N shakes her head and looks at Klaus who is smirking down at her, she couldn’t contain her beaming smile.

“Seriously, are you all always this needy?” She asks Klaus with a smile on her lips and nothing but fondness in her eyes. They knew she loved them all no matter what and they couldn’t help but all laugh. It felt nice to be wanted. It was nice for people to crave her attention for anything other than bait or to be used.

“When it comes to you… yes.” Klaus laughs hugging her close to him. They all join in and Y/N wraps her arm around his waist in comfort and absorbs his warmth and smell.

The Gang:

They had decided to come to the Grill to make sure she was okay and what she was saying to the Original. Tyler had told them he wanted no part in spying on one of their friends, so he opted to go home and work off some steam from the whole day. He was honouring Y/N’s wishes as he always was. He was sure she wouldn’t mind him joining, but he wanted it to be her choice.

When they walked in they saw Y/N in a booth with three of the Originals and Damon couldn’t help but feel pissed at the fact that Klaus had an arm wrapped around Y/N shoulders. They choose to sit in a booth close but not too close that it would be obvious. Matt had been the one to tell them when she got there and when the Originals had arrived. He was keeping an eye on them, so he could report to the gang.

“What do we do?” Elena hissed, displeased that Y/N was cosy with the enemy. She hated this, what was so great about Y/N anyway?

“We watch,” Stefan says simply and Elena frowns at him not liking his answer. They had to do something. She was surrounded by the enemy and smiling about it.

“We can’t just storm over there considering what you guys did to her.” Enzo looked pissed, he knew Damon was reckless and was willing to protect the ones he loves but risking Y/N wasn’t something he thought he’d do again after the last time. Wasn’t Y/N someone he loved? Tyler was the one to tell him what happened.

“We could,” Damon spoke, not taking his eyes off his girlfriend. He didn’t like this, she was his no one else could have her.

“She asked for space and instead of giving it to her you come here and stalk her?” Enzo raised a brow at his friend who looked over at him and glared. Enzo hated how his friend was acting and treating that sweet girl.

“She is fraternising with the enemy!” Elena whined and Enzo looked at her with a look of disgust confused by what she had that made Damon act the way he did. He couldn’t see it. But, to each their own.

“She deserves space, plus they would never hurt her.” Caroline looked at the group. They knew she was right, Y/N never asked for anything and they didn’t respect this wish.

“Klaus gave her a vial of her blood to heal her,” Matt informed them as he passed out their drinks and food. They all looked at him and then back to the booth with their friend. She refused theirs but accepted Klaus! Why? Enzo smirked because he knew they were thinking. He’d witnessed Klaus forcing her to heal with his blood; it made him chuckle at the memory.

Y/N & The Originals:

Klaus and Y/N were listening to Elijah and Kol tell tales from different times, Klaus interrupting to correct facts or to defend his decisions made. She loved these simple moments, it brought her the warmth she missed. Y/N laughed and smiled but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched.

“What’s wrong?” Klaus frowns as he notices her shift uncomfortably, “Do you need more blood?” He was worried she was still hurting and it made her heart stutter at how much he cares about her.

“No. It’s nothing. I’m just tired.” She smiles at him and he shakes his head not believing her. He knows something is bothering her.

“I know you better than that, Little Love.” He leaned against the table watching her, Kol and Elijah leaned in to look her over and make sure she was okay. She looked around the bar and spotted the gang and something in her started to build and she couldn’t pinpoint what it was, when she looked back at Matt she noticed he was watching and hovering close by too. It started to bubble over, it was anger and annoyance.

“Anyone would think I’m about to die or something with the way I’m being watched.” She knew the gang heard her because they looked away. Klaus looked around the room and knew straight away what was happening. He stiffened and frowned before looking back and seeing her annoyance and tried to lighten her mood.

“Didn’t ask for the guard dogs?” Klaus smirked, he could see her frustration and he wanted nothing to make them disappear but knew it would upset her more. He just wanted her to smile and laugh again, she deserves to be happy.

“Nope.” she drowns her drink, for the first time they see something dark in her eyes and worry fills them. Y/N nodded to Klaus that she wanted out of the booth and he slipped out letting her stand, he was hesitant he didn’t like that look on her.

“Where are you going Love?” Klaus frowned, taking her hand in his. Stopping her from running without answers.

“Home.” she sighs and Klaus looks worried. It broke her heart when he looked at her like that, but she couldn’t burden him with this. Looking at Kol and Elijah they were wearing similar looks and she wanted to reassure them, but she isn’t sure she had it in her right now. She wasn’t going to lie to them and say everything is fine when she doesn’t even know how she feels.

“Are you sure, I’m sure Rebekah would love your company… actually any of us would.” He gave her a devilish smile, he saw her eyes lighten and she smiled at him. She wanted to say yes, but knew better then to… she just wanted to go home.

“Maybe another time Nik.” She laughs as she pats his chest walking past waving at her intrusive friends as she leaves. The gang had the grace to look ashamed and Klaus, Kol and Elijah throw them dirty looks before they get up and walk out of The Grill before they do something they may regret. This was not how they imagined their evening with Y/N was gonna go.

Tags:

@badwolf-winchester, @yolobloggers, @mydelusionalworld-7 , @mylovehes, @wolfprincess114, @cinthias-corner, @annievvv7, @anyasthoughts, @twilight-loveer, @supermassiveblackhope, @a-dorky-book-keeper, @daphnen21

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Three: Chapter Three

(AO3 counterpart here.)

TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO

Redpaw gazed at her mother.

It wasn’t fair, really, how peaceful they had managed to make her appear in death. Her eyes were closed serenely, her fur neatly groomed, mouth closed and cleaned of froth. She looked as though she was just asleep and having a nice dream. As if this whole ceremony was a joke. As if she would wake up any minute.

It was stupid. She wasn’t coming back. Why taunt everyone like this?

“Roany?”

Redpaw managed to tear her eyes away to meet her stepmother’s. The cream molly, Palefeather, was looking down at her with love and concern.

“How are you doing, honey?” she asked softly.

It was a stupid question, but Redpaw knew she meant well. She took a breath and looked down again.

“You wouldn’t think the white fury was in her blood,” she said. She was grateful that her voice was at the right volume, quiet but audible, because she had no say where it was herself. “She’s… she looks content.”

“She does.” Palefeather stepped in beside Redpaw, and the two stood in silence together.

Cats walked by them, pausing to crouch and whisper their respects to Thornfang – not touching her, as was custom of handling a white fury body – and offering a sympathetic nod to Redpaw and Palefeather before moving on. The Clast were shifting around in groups to swap stories about one of the most well-loved warriors in the community; how she had been unmatched in her battle strategies and hunting skill, how she had been a wonderful friend and a hilarious storyteller, how brave she had been in leading away the rabid dog that had gotten through the Hillock border, sacrificing her own safety to trap it in a currently dry gash in the earth that the dog had broken its neck falling into after it had bitten her. It was a shame she never became deputy, they said. She would have been a legendary leader in time.

Redpaw didn’t want to hear any of it. She pinned her ears against her head and shut her eyes tight, trying to mute out everything, but the conversations dug into her mind and latched on with terrible little claws, forcing her ears to stay open. Her own claws scraped against the stone floor.

Palefeather must have noticed, because she started grooming Redpaw’s head, purring quietly. Redpaw latched onto the sensation and focused as hard as she could on the feeling of a rough tongue and a soothing purr. Gradually, she relaxed.

“It’s not fair,” she murmured eventually. “She shouldn’t be here right now, on the ground.”

Palefeather paused her ministrations to reply. “She isn’t, Roany. She’s in StarClan now. She’s safe and happy. We’ll see her again one day.”

Redpaw opened her eyes halfway, returning her focus to her mother’s body. She wasn’t satisfied with that, but she couldn’t bring herself to argue against her stepmother. She knew that Palefeather needed that comfort as much as she did. She just sighed, shut her eyes again, and leaned into her only living family.

 Over the next week, Redpaw hunted alone. The rest of the Clast knew to leave her be – though perhaps Palefeather had a paw in that. Redpaw said nothing to anyone and ate very little of what she brought back. More often than not, she was out in the night while everyone was asleep, just to ensure that promise of solitude.

One evening, as she stalked, sniffing the air, she caught something new. A cold scent, that smelled of the dark and the mist. She frowned and stood straight, opening her mouth to taste it.

Very odd.

Very interesting.

Redpaw looked around in the moonlit hollow, thick with grass and cut through by a stream. She could swear that, under that chill, she had caught the scent of another cat.

“Is someone here?” she asked, calling just loud enough to be heard across the way.

You could say that.

Redpaw flinched. The voice was there, seemingly in her ear, close as a thought, but she couldn’t distinguish who it was or if they were near her. She looked around again, but even with her feline eyes, no one popped up out of the shadows.

Then, there – something thin, dim, a silhouette under a lone tree.

She relaxed and approached a few steps. “I didn’t know anyone else was awake.”

I’m always awake, the silhouette said. Sleep begets nightmares.

Redpaw frowned. Why couldn’t she define how this voice sounded?

“You’re not from the Clast,” she said.

The sensation of eyes regarding her, half-narrowed. I wouldn’t know anymore.

Redpaw didn’t know how to respond to that. She stopped walking and squinted, trying to make out whoever this was. They seemed little more than a shadow.

Who…?

I know about your mother, they said suddenly. I’m sorry.

Redpaw’s head went back a little and she blinked. “No one’s left the Clast this week. Why would you know about-?”

Saw it. Their long, narrow head tilted to the side. Wanted to stop her, but that never works. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer molly.

Redpaw stared. “You saw her and you didn’t come to the vigil?”

I wouldn’t be welcome in most of our society. They gazed at her silently for a moment. I can’t tell you how much I regret her fate.

Redpaw was confused by this riddle-talking… whoever they were. She still couldn’t make out their features, and it was starting to unnerve her.

Still, she could remain polite.

She recited Palefeather’s current mantra. “At least she’s happy in StarClan now.”

The silhouette rippled suddenly, violently. Don’t follow that hollow sentiment, Redpaw. It’s not true.

Redpaw flinched and took a step back, somewhere between offended and alarmed.

StarClan is the last place you want her to go, they said – and their voice did not get louder in her head, but it became more intense, more powerful.

Redpaw didn’t know what she wanted to say, but she managed a, “Why not?”

The rippling ceased and there was a long, low breath… or perhaps it was the breeze. When you go to sleep, call for her. Dream tonight. You’ll see.

Then they were gone.

It took Redpaw a moment to realize that she was alone. She blinked, looking for that silhouette, and then turning this way and that, a little afraid. No one was with her. The scent of cold and dark and damp had vanished.

Redpaw told no one about her encounter – something in her advised against it, and she followed her instincts. She was lucky that most of the cats had retired to their nests by the time she got home. Hardly anyone lifted their head to even greet her. She took her nest that she had pushed to be a little further away from the usual cluster in each house, curled up, and shut her eyes, trying to will herself to become sleepy.

“Mother,” she whispered under her breath, to avoid catching any attention. “If you can hear me…”

Something creaked.

She opened her eyes and startled. All around her was a grassy, beautiful clearing. Flowers in a scattered rainbow of colors caught the sunlight that warmed Redpaw’s pelt. Redpaw recovered from her shock and shook it out of her fur. She inhaled deeply, blessed with the scent of prey and ground just drying from the rain.

She seemed to be alone, but hesitantly, she called, “Mother?” and, after a pause, quieter, “Is this StarClan?”

There was an odd sensation, like Redpaw’s sight shuddered, and something sun-bright was in front of her. She squinted, eyes relaxing slowly as it dimmed, until she recognized her aged spitting-image in front of her.

“Mother,” she breathed. Elation straightened her posture and her fur flared with excitement. She stumbled a step forward.

Then she stopped.

Thornfang’s eyes were wide, darker than they were in life, sunken in. They bulged with terror. Her claws sunk into the grass, her tail bristled like a coyote’s. Why did she look so gaunt?

Redpaw looked at her mother. Thornfang looked at her.

“Run,” she said.

The ground burst open behind her, rocks splitting and jutting out skyward. Redpaw fell to her stomach as the earth shook. All around was a deafening, grinding groan, slow and strained.

Thornfang started forward. Something eye-searingly bright shot up out of the opening in the ground. It wrapped itself around Thornfang’s sides and jerked her up off her feet.

“Run!” Thornfang shouted, voice cracking in animal terror.

Then she was pulled into the hole, and the earth shook again, violent. It crumbled away, closing in on Redpaw until she had nothing under her paws. She half-fell, half-floated in the

 in the

  She saw it.

  She screamed.

   Hush.

Redpaw shot up out of her nest, hyperventilating. She pedaled backwards until she hit a stone wall, too terrified to think straight. She was on the verge of passing out, and she knew it, and it scared her, as if she might return to that thing once she lost consciousness.

In front of her was the dark figure, free of the shadows. They stood tall, thin, long, and unnaturally calm.

And shush, they said. Now Redpaw knew their words were in her head – no one so much as flicked an ear in their sleep. For it may be listening.

The very last string of sensibility grabbed at Redpaw’s heart and held on, ordering her to slow her breathing. She was barely able to obey, taking deeper, more elongated breaths, until she was merely trembling and not frozen in place.

The silhouette nodded once. Come.

They turned and walked out of the house. Their tail was like a snake, but it seemed to be fading at the tip.

Redheart looked around to ensure that no one had awoken – they hadn’t – before shakily following the figure out of the silent, night-stained settlement and towards the area they had first met.

You saw it, then, they said at last. You know now.

“I don’t know what I saw!” Redpaw cried. “My mother- something- it got her-“

Yes. They turned to her, an oddly comforting look on their face. It was StarClan. Or the thing pretending to be StarClan.

Redpaw listened in horrified silence as they explained a truth that she would carry with her for the rest of her life.

I’ve been trying all my afterlife to warn everyone, they concluded, but it’s done a good job of ensuring everyone flees or tries to kill me or alerts it to my location. I am merely a devil now to most.

Redpaw wanted to weep. She maintained her composure and lowered her head. “Then you’re…”

The Runagate, they said quietly. Yes. You are one of the only ones that know about me. About my truth. About the truth.

Redpaw’s head jerked up immediately. “There are more?”

What little Redpaw could deduce of their face twitched, like it was wryly amused. One, at least. The veil doesn’t touch him. It may do good to find him.

Sudden and slight, there was a spark of anger in Redpaw’s heart. She latched onto it, warmed it, let it begin to turn into a small flame of righteous determination. “I’ll try. I'll find him as soon as I can. I can’t… I can’t shoulder this alone. I don’t know how you did.”

The Runagate’s entire posture relaxed, and the voice in her head had a smile in it. I don’t anymore.

 ---

 “Then that’s how you two met,” Darkpelt said, almost in awe. “All this time, the connection was there, and no one knew.”

“Greyleaf didn’t know her.” Mistface shook his head. “I would’ve heard about it.”

“No,” Greyleaf replied with a sigh. “You wouldn’t have. I never told you.”

Mistface stared at him, eyes wide.

“I never told you about any of this.” Greyleaf had settled down as Redheart’s tale went on, but now his tail tapped the ground in stress. “Nor Mama, nor my mentor. I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t know about the whole truth, at first.”

Flyfang cleared her throat, her voice still ragged. “I guess you have your side to tell, then.”

Greyleaf closed his eyes. “I guess I do.”

[i-write-sometimes-blog]

Cold Eyes (Dark Rey x Reader) [Part 8]

Summary: Between the uncertainty of what happened to Endor and the confusing trance Rey left you, you struggle with your emotion, even deeper when suddenly she appears in your doorframe. Previous Part.

Words: 2,466

A/N: This one's a bit longer. I hope you enjoy it. And thanks for you all for reading and fire the sweet comments, it really means a lot to me. Flashbacks are in italics.

(gif's no mine. Credit to the owner.)

"You are all useless!" shouted Rey and the people in the room shivered in fear. " A bunch of Incompetents that couldn't just take down a few X-Wings!"

"It was an ambush, Supreme Leader" whined a man in a commander uniform. Rey eyed the man as he swallowed hard as he saw her walking closer to him, a grin on her face.

"An ambush" she said "Commander, you even know what kind of weapons you had in that ship?"

The man nervously looked at the ground.

"The target was easy, you had the right tools" her tone begun to grow with anger with every passing second "And you got beaten by handful of dirty rebels?!"

"They were waiting for us, Supreme Leader" said a woman as she stood up her chair "It was like they knew we were coming, they attacked before we could do something, destroyed the central cannon"

"Then someone told them” said Rey with her blood boiling from the rage. “What is the necessary range to know how the ship works?” Asked Rey and the woman answered almost immediately.

"No need. The blaster is under the ship, aside of the usual ones for protection on the upper part that is the only visible weapon. Would be easy to know if they saw the previous attack"

"Fine. Now I need to know how did they know about Endor.” Rey said walking back to the head of the table, analysing every face from the scared commander to the woman, Rey's gaze stopped on a red haired general that sat confident with a light smirk on his face.

"General Hux" raised her voice again "You're very quiet. Do you happen to know something about this?"

His smirk grew bigger and he prepared himself to speak to his boss.

"Truth to be told, I do, Supreme Leader" he said "I was looking at the database and I noticed a quite interesting message. A transmission that contains the name of the target and also the day of it" he spoke pride of his work knowing he would win not only the trust but the respect of the lady in charge.

"Where the transmission was sent from?"

"It was sent from a TIE fighter ship, exactly the one your apprentice stole in her pathetic escape attend." Rey tensed by the sound of his words, remembering events after that, how much had Y/N hurt her and now she had betrayed her one more time. "Without intentions to blame, Supreme Leader, your apprentice seems to be a spy for the Resistance”

So Y/N had done it, not only tried to run away but you sent a message to them, you were still with them even when they kicked you out and that fact made the suffer in Rey’s body grow stronger.

“I’ll take care of her” Rey said as calm as she could.

“I suggest you get rid of that scum before she compromise another mission. After all she’s nothing more than a disgusting rebel” Continued Hux without thinking his words, he was so confident of himself in those moments. The next thing Hux saw was a red light humming very close to his neck.

"Watch your mouth, General Hux" growled Rey holding her lightsaber dangerously close to his skin. Her face now full of a new threatening expression. No one had the right to insult you- "She's still my apprentice and I won't allow you to talk about her like that"

"But, Supreme Leader, she's a traitor and…"

"She's under my protection, General Hux" Rey said before turning off her saber "And perhaps she was more useful than any of you” she said as the ideas on her mind worked out. Smiling for herself she thought of a new and brilliant plan.

“I don’t understand, Supreme Leader” said Hux now carefully.

“Y/N sent a message and the Resistance showed up. Which means they trust her and that General Hux, is what we are going to use on our favor.”

*******

A few days passed since the last time you talked to Rey, or at least you thought so, it was difficult to know when was day or night, only the helmet of stormtroopers when they brought you some food let you knew the world outside the dark room kept going.

It had passed at least a week. You hadn’t much to do trapped inside those black walls allowing your brain to overthink every word you had told Rey, those words hunted you all nights as well as the feeling of her hand around your neck when she tried to killed you. And the kiss, that sweet and yet confusing that wouldn’t just let you sleep.

Shifting your body in the small bed you stared at the ceiling for longer than you could remember, overwhelmed by your thoughts. A part of you made you think on the Resistance, you hoped they were okay and for the good of them and Endor they had fight the First Order. You wondered who had been in that mission, if some of your friend got hurt… or if they were even alive.

Shaking your head you tried to focus yourself on the lights in the ceiling, how the white of them was a whole difference compared to the dark walls. Your mind started to drag you to the past once again as you remembered the soft smile Rey used to have, back in the days at Resistance.

It was sunny that day as Rey and you wandering over a small planet in search of repairs for the Falcon in a tiny market in the middle of the forest. By the corner of your eyes you caught Rey smiling fascinated with all the colors of the market and the trees above her head.

“Everything good?” you asked her with a chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the work” you smiled and then nodded to a market stall that you knew had the needed pieces. “This way”

“Yeah” she told you focusing her eyes now on you “I never stop surprising myself”

She followed you close, still admiring the place. You loved how much her eyes shimmered when she found something new for her and you get it, she used to live in a planet with nothing but sand in it, the rest of the world was completely new for her. And as you were talking with the merchant she was amazed by a dry flower they sell in the next tent.

“You like it?” you said.

“There’s no flowers in Jakku, I bought some but eventually they dried out.” she said with authentic hope in her words. “Do you have everything?” she then said looking at the metallic pieces in your arms as she offered a hand with the stuff.

“Yup” you said leading the way back to the ship. Close to the your ship your gaze focused on some wild flowers growing between the trees and couldn’t help but smile thinking about the way Rey loved flowers, so you picked up some for her, that was already inside the big ship getting everything ready to fly.

She greeted you with a soft smile when you entered to the ship.

“Here” you said handing her the soft purple flowers that immediately made her smile grew bigger with excitement.

“Why?” she said taking the flower closer to her nose so she could smell the delicate fragrance of them.

“I just thought you may like them” you said winking.

“I love them” she said pulling you into a tight hug “Thank you, Y/N” her face amazed by the purple flowers was one of your favorites memories, just to see Rey as happy made your heart melt so much.

The nostalgic was taking over your body again, the Rey from your memories didn’t exist anymore. Running a hand through your face and hair you sat at the end of the bed trying without success to avoid overthinking.

The door suddenly opened, revealing the face of the girl you were thinking of moments ago, but it wasn’t her anymore, the girl standing at the door frame with the dark clothes and the cold glance was a total different person.

You looked at her, unsure of what to say, scared of even speak while Rey just watched you with a wicked grin on her lips.

“Come on” she said nodding outside “I want to show you something, Y/N” she said, her voice made a shiver run down your spine, this was not good you could already tell by the way she was looking at you, you didn’t even know if you would make it alive this time.

You obeyed without pronouncing a word, avoiding her eyes and her closeness as much as you could, feeling the tension between the both of you. She guided you through the endless corridors of the castle until you reached the main hangar where a ship was already waiting for you.

“General Hux” she said as you arrived. You met the man’s eyes, he seemed confident but you could tell he was a little scared by the way he stayed firm in his usual position with his hands crossed in his back. “We’re ready. Take off”

“Immediately, Supreme Leader” he said before leaving the room. You swallowed thickly as there was just Rey and you again, alone. Nervous of making a sudden move you kept looking at the ground but still, you could felt her eyes focused on you.

“This will be so fun, Y/N” you heard her say which only made goosebumps form all over your skin.

The ride was short, gladly, and you didn’t need to talk. But that was driving you slowly crazy, it was her silence, her devilish grin, how everything seemed to be oddly calculated. Just the whole thing made your stomach dropped.

And then the big First Order's ship stopped in front of a planet you haven't seen in a long time, a planet you left hoping to save someday. You homeworld.

"Rey, what are you doing?* You finally asked in panic.

"Just watch, Y/N" she said and then she pushed a button in the console in front of her. "At my signal" she said through a speaker making you feel so much fear to

think what was she going to do, this ship had a huge weapon, you had seen it in action. This ship was made to destroy planets and now she was going to destroy yours.

"Rey" you called out only eliciting a smile in Rey's face "Stop it!!"

"Three" she said, you ran next to her to look at her in the eyes.

"Stop it, please" you told her as you felt your voice started to crack. You didn't understand why she had chosen your planet, only to hurt you but why?

"Two"

That was your old home, the place where you grew up, where you learned to fix ships. And there was a lot of people you knew, good people dedicated mostly to the crop.

"Rey!" You yelled finally attracting her gaze to lay on you. "Please, I'm begging you, don't do this. I'll do whatever you want, just don't shot" you said feeling how the tears started to pool in your eyes. She stopped for a moment, scanning your face before she spoke.

"One"

A powerful red blaster came out of the ship hitting your planet for just some seconds before it all started to break apart and finally exploited.

You screamed in pain as burning tears blurred your vision, an indescribable ache spread from your chest and then your whole body, unable to think as the ashes your planet floated in the space.

“What the fuck have you done?!” you turned to see Rey, the tears never stop flowing down your cheeks.

“What needed to be done, Y/N” she said calmly. Was she serious? she had just destroyed another planet because it had to be done?

“Why?!!” you cried out, collecting all your forces to approached her. “WHY?!” you screamed very close to her. Fastly she grabbed your neck, almost too fast making your cough a bit, she dragged you closer to her face.

“This are the consequences of your actions, Y/N” she hissed “And I’m not talking about your pitiful escape. This is about your little message to the Resistance” she said and you felt how she tighten the grip on your neck as a wave of pain hitted your body with her words. So she had found out and by the anger of hers, they had received the transmission, therefore Endor was still existing. A whole planet saved but at what cost? Another one turned into nothing more than dust leaving an empty space in the galaxy.

Rey let go of you and you gasped for air but before you could do something she grabbed your back and pushed you closer to the big window and used her free hand to force you turn your head to see the ashes of the planet you grew up.

“Look at it!" she growled “You did this, Y/N. All the millions of lifes lie on your hands now, they die because of you!!” she said enraged.

She thrown you to the ground as if you were nothing, didn't even feel the pain as your body met the surface it was nothing compared with all the agony you were feeling inside you.

"Now you better think before trying to do something as stupid as that" you heard her said, slowly you looked over your shoulder to met her glance once again.

"I hate…" a gasp fell from your lips and stopped you from ending the sentence. Your blood frozen by the sight of her face darken by fury but the most alarming thing about her were her eyes. Yellow eyes that burned with genuine rage.

"Say it" she say "Say you hate me"

You kept staring at her eyes unable to form proper words.

"Don't be afraid, say it" she repeated as you cried silently. "I know the way you're feeling, the suffer you're going through. This anger your feeling, let it guide you, Y/N"

"Rey…" you finally managed to raise your shaking voice "This is not you"

"You're wrong, this is the real me" she gave you a wicked smile. To your memory came back her soft smile holding the flowers, just an instant but then you saw reality, her figure standing tall covered in a black version of her usual clothes, a long cape covering most of if and her dark expression that seemed to looked even more evil. The Rey you knew, that sweet girl from Jakku was gone, leaving a monster with yellow eyes behind. Any hope of getting her back was gone.

Tagging: @cpt-bolter , @elvencantation , @jay-birf03 , @x-a-gay-disaster-x , @sheogasms , @hstoria , @iamafangirl-fightme

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[98prilla]

Abductions, Past and Present

Next

Previous

AO3

...

He looks up at the sound of quiet footsteps coming down the ramp, only half surprised to see Virgil, who wraps a blanket around his shoulders, before sitting down beside him with his own, head deep in his hood, dark eyes shining as he looks up at the stars.

 “How is he?” Comes the soft question. Patton looks up at the stars as well, a soft breath escaping his lips.

 “Lost. It must be terrifying, to go from having no choices, no power to make your own decisions, to having complete control over your life. He doesn’t know how to use that, anymore. Doesn’t know what to do with it all, what to do with himself.” Virgil huffs, arms wrapping around his knees.

 “Yeah. I was… a bit like that. When I first joined up with you. It seems silly, now, that I was ever scared of you, Pat, but I was. I was terrified, what would happen, when you found me.”

…

He hadn’t been invited on board. Patton and Logan hadn’t even known he was on board. They’d had a brief stopover, to refuel, on his home planet, spent barely twenty minutes there, total, at the small waystation, not many people enjoyed spending time near the presence of wraiths.  

 Virgil himself included.

 He doesn’t know, still doesn’t know, how he found the courage to sneak aboard, when no one was looking, it wasn’t all that hard, he just slipped into the shadows and slipped into the hold, trying desperately to contain his fear so it wouldn’t spiral out and affect anyone else, so it wouldn’t seep through to them, so they wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

 He hated the planet, after all. Hated the cold cruelty of the place, the eerie darkness, the icy fear always trickling down his spine. They fed off negativity, off fear, and there was no one easier to scare and frighten and torment than him. No one to protect him, from the others. No one to stay for. He saw a way out, and he took it, intending to simply slip off at the next stop, whatever that was, and find a way for himself, maybe beg, do simple chores for pay, do something. He hadn’t intended to be found.

 He’d been hiding out for maybe a week, in the storage hold. He was cold and hungry and tired, huddled in the corner, behind some crates, curled around himself, shaking. He’d felt fuzzy and strange, and realized that was probably due to the whole not eating thing, but he couldn’t find the bravery to go scope out, to scrounge for food, he just had to hope they’d set down soon.

 An arm on his shoulder had woken him. He’d screamed, hoarse and cracked, woken out of his light, fitful sleep, warm hands on him, and he was afraid, waiting to be thrown into a nightmare, into whatever hell world they’d chosen this time, curling tighter, arms coming up to cover his head in the meager defense he could provide for himself.

 “please… please don’t… please… s-sorry, s-sorry…”

 “Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you, kiddo. You’re burning up, when was the last time you ate anything?” He’d shrugged, scared out of his mind, breath speeding, because he was caught, he’d been caught, and what were they going to do with him?

 “dunno. L-last st-op. Imma… wraith.” He mumbled, waiting for the fear, the derision, the pain.

 “Oh, baby. Can we get you upstairs?”

 “What… what’re y-ou gonna do, w-ith m-me?”

 “Get some food in you, to start, and some water. Then get you all cozy on the couch, with plenty of blankets and pillows, something to bring down that fever of yours.”

 “Y-you’re not m-m-mad?”

 “Of course not. You were scared enough to stow away, to leave your own planet behind and hide out in a ship you had no idea how friendly or cruel the occupants of it were. I think that speaks for itself, kiddo. I’m not mad. I just wanna help, ok?” Patton had asked, and he’d hesitated for a long moment, before nodding.  

 “O-ok.” He’d realized his teeth were chattering, flinching as he felt arms around him, lifting him gently, as he passed out.

 It had taken him a long, long time, to open up to any of them, to say anything without prompting, really, he was quiet and meek and half shadows, most of the time, unable to keep his form physical with the endless fear creeping through him. No one was allowed to touch him. Not even Patton. Any sudden movement sent him tearing from the room, and he spent most of his own time locked in his own, still convinced that they would send him back, jettison him off, kick him off at the next planet and never look back.

 It was Logan, oddly enough, that wore him down. He always said what he thought, always pointed out the obvious, always answers with the truth, no matter how hurtful or blunt it is. That pure… obliviousness… to the concept of deception, was what finally convinced him, that they truly did want to help, wanted to let him have his space, wanted to just… be there.

 He’d never had kindness before. He didn’t understand, kindness. He didn’t understand why they were being so nice to him, when he hadn’t done anything besides flinch and hide and recoil from their touches, their gazes, their attentions.

 That’s what had led to him sitting on the middle of his bed, huddled in his blankets, shaking as he sobbed, not looking up at the soft knock on his door, letting out something that might have been a strangled ‘come in’. For once, he didn’t flinch away, as Patton entered the room, as he sat down on the very edge of the bed, looking at him with soft concern and warm care, and he just… broke. He fell into Patton’s arms and just broke.

…

He comes out of his own thoughts at Patton slipping a hand into his, and he smiles wryly up at the moon, shaking his head.

 “sorry. Just…” He trails off with a sigh, closing his eyes for a long moment, trying to steady himself.

 “I know, Vee. They’ve come so far, already. And you… I’m so proud of you, Virgil. I really, really am.” He looks away, face red, hiding the small smile in the blanket around his head, smile growing as Patton rests his head on his shoulder, nuzzling against him.

 “Pat, you’re making it really hard for me to nostalgically mope.” He mutters, Patton laughing softly against him.  

 “Good.” Patton says, wings uncurling and stretching out behind him as he yawns.

 “Should you head in, Pat?” He asks, amusement coloring his tone, as Patton shakes his head.

 “Roman wanted to stay outside. I wanna let him get as much fresh air as possible. aThey’ve been… confined, for too long, Virg. They’ve been through so much, I just wanna let him have whatever he needs.” Virgil smiles fondly, laying his blanket on the ground behind Patton.

 “Alright. Lay down.” He orders, gently pushing Patton’s shoulder, who goes over with little resistence, a little giggle, stretching one wing out, resting Roman atop it, curling his other wing over him as he lays down, holding him close, Roman’s hands gently curling into his feathers, nuzzling against them, snuggling into the softness. He smiles as Virgil tucks the other blanket tight around them, before leaning down and kissing the top of his head softly.

 “I’ll keep watch, Pat. Sweet dreams.” In the blink of an eye, Virgil vanishes into the shadows, though Patton knows he hasn’t gone far.

 “G’night, Virg. Love you.” He mumbles, already slipping asleep as the cozy warmth seeps into his bones.

…

He wakes up screaming. For the first time in a little over three years, he wakes up screaming, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth, swallowing down the sound, choking on it, praying no one else has heard him, he doesn’t want to bother them, and he buries his head in his hands, trying to get a grip, because it wasn’t real, he knows it wasn’t real.

 The white hospital bed. Firm, cold shackles against his upper arms and wrists, holding them tight to the armrests of the chair. An IV in his arm, pumping him full of vitamins and minerals and a mild sedative, something to keep him still against the sharp stings of pain as they carefully peel off every scale. He watches in quiet, morbid, fascination, as his arms turn from gold to crimson, as he starts to shiver, even the heating light they have on above him not enough to keep him warm, against the blood loss.

 It’s still another hour before he’s hazing in and out of awareness, another half hour before they call a stop, binding his injuries with curt, steady motions, guiding him back to his small room, nothing more than white walls, floors, ceiling, a hard bed, a warm blanket, it must be night, because the uv rays are off, as they emotionlessly deposit him on the bed, as always, locking the door behind them without a word.

 Tomorrow they’ll take more scales, until he doesn’t have any left. He'll be sick and shaking and unable to keep any food down, they'll hook him to more IVs to keep him alive, until his scales start to regrow and just when he’s starting to feel alright again, they'll pluck him clean once more.

 That’s his life. That’s all it’ll ever be. A sickly, half conscious life, hazed over with fever and pain, dying slowly from lack of contact, lack of socialization, lack of touch.

…

A knock on his door has him jolting, a strange foreboding in his chest, a tightness to his lungs, and he hears someone speaking, but they sound a million miles away, and he’s petrified, he can’t seem to move a single muscle, he’s frozen in place, though his mind is screaming at him, to do something, anything, he can’t, as his vision swims, he can’t.

 All he can hear is the chiming tone that tells him its time to get up for the day, to put on his loose, white clothing, to quietly eat his meal, to sit on the bed and wait silently for them to come retrieve him, to keep his eyes down and his hands in front of him, to make no motion until told, otherwise they’ll be forced to retaliate to protect themselves, regardless of whether he’s attacking or not.

 He's never attacking. He’s too scared, too well trained, to attack, to try anything, at this point, he knows it would be useless. Even if he bit one, two of them, sent them shaking and convulsing to the ground, there would be more, and he can’t fight through them all, can’t make it out of this facility, wherever it is, doesn’t even know if they’re on a planet or drifting in space, and there’s no point to resisting. Better to be compliant and meek and do as he’s told.

 Another soft knock, voice a bit louder, more concerned, gives him enough, shocks his mind, his system enough to break out of his stupor, to move, to stumble, stagger, trip over his own feet through a tilted, spinning world speckled with dark spots, to make it to the door, fumbling with the locks before finally managing to undo them, knowing that voice will somehow make this better, will somehow keep all of that from happening, will somehow get him out of here, where there’s no space and air and light and he can’t breathe or see or speak.

 The door opens and he falls, though warm arms catch him, the voice inhales sharply, speaking, though he still can’t hear, he should be able to hear him, he can get the sense of what he’s saying, but not the words, and dimly he registers the arms moving, scooping him up, off the ground, and he clings to the voice, as they carry him somewhere else, somewhere open, more space, before sitting down, though not letting go.  

 He registers counting, a slow, steady rhtym, one he knows, one he uses, one he tries to emulate now, in fits and starts, feeling a hand softly running up and down his arm, shivering as it touches his scales, phantom pain making him flinch, and the movement stops.

 “N-no… D-d-don’t…” He can’t choke out more than that, but they seem to understand, resuming their gentle up and down motion, especially light and gentle over his scales, slowly soothing him, because no one besides his crew, his friends, his family, are allowed to touch them, and only they have ever been this gentle with him, and as his breathing finally starts to even, his heart rate starts to beat normally, copying the rhythm it can feel from the warm body pressed against his, his vision starts to clear, and he slumps forwards, the tension leaking out of him as he presses his head into Logan’s chest, trembling as he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

 “Janus?” Comes the soft, quiet question, and he nods, even that motion takes too much effort, too much energy, but he summons his words anyway.

 “yes. ‘M here.” He mumbles, feeling Logan’s own relieved breath, his arms wrapping securely around his back, holding him close, as he realizes tears are slipping down his cheeks, unbidden. “sorry. Didn’t… didn’t mean to wake you.” Logan shushes him, slowly rocking him back and forth.

 “No. I’m sorry. I should have realized, today’s events would be triggering. One of us should have checked up on you, after you settled Remus.” He shivers, folding tighter against Logan, exhaustion from the fading adrenaline and panic attack shattering his normal walls.

 “If he hadn’t been there… Lo, if he hadn’t-“ He breaks off, choking on his words, on his fear. “I can’t do it again. I c-can’t… I didn’t know, then, but I do, now, and I c-can’t-“

 “Shh, shh, shh, I know, I know, Janus. But you don’t have to. You will never, never have to go through that again. You’re safe, you’re safe, Janus, and we, I, will never let that happen to you again. I promise.” Logan murmurs, gently running his thumb in circles against Janus’s cheek, the other wrapped around his waist to keep him steady. “I promise. I’m not letting go, alright? Get some rest. I’ll keep anything from harming you, while you sleep, I promise.”

 “N-not… Y-you and P-patton and Vi-rgil, c-can’t let them… can’t h-ave y-y-you-“ He can feel Janus already starting to drift, unable to hold on to awareness, after such a strong attack, plus his already elevated exhaustion and worry and stress, his words making his heart ache, because despite everything, Janus was focused on them, worried about them, getting taken, keeping them safe.

 “We’re all ok, Janus. No one is going anywhere. No one is leaving. No one is going to hurt them. I promise.” He murmurs, relaxing himself as he feels Janus’s breath even into deep, long, inhales and exhales, going fully limp against him, smiling down at the sleeping Naga, at the trust and faith his friend has in him, to not need locked doors to keep him safe, when Logan is right there, watching over him.

 He forgets, sometimes, where Janus has come from. How long, he spent in that endlessly cruel monotonous captivity.

 He came so far, so fast, and even now, he masks his pain so well, hides behind that wicked smirk and smooth surety, and its so easy, to forget when they first got to him nearly eight years ago he barely spoke a single word for three months, nearly convincing all of them he was mute. It took him longer still, to understand choices, they had to introduce them slowly, starting with ‘would you prefer A or B' type questions before moving to open ended ones.

 It's easy to forget, just how brave he is, acting as their inside man when necessary, posing as a buyer to get onto smuggler's ships, playing the part he hates more than anything, no doubt terrified beneath the surface, because if anything went wrong, in most cases, they wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. But he never backs down, never says no, and Logan knows that Janus would rather perish than fail to free whomever they held trapped, and it scares him, his reckless, fast paced bravery, scares him. Because he is just as terrified of losing Janus as he clearly is of losing them. It makes him hold on a little tighter, continuing to rub Janus’s back, to murmur softly to him, keeping him company through the rest of the night.

@fortheloveofjanus

[timmyteehill]

Discord Thread || Bradley & Tee

Discord text thread featuring: Tee & @bradley-kingsboro

When: 9th February

Mentions: @booknerdaurora

Description: Bradley shows up at Tee’s place the day after the party and they talk. And possibly make things official. 

Trigger Warnings: references to sex 

Tee

Tee was glad that he kept the day after the party free from appointments  which meant that he didn’t have to go in to his office. He wasn’t hungover but he didn’t really feel in the mood to help people get their lives figured out when his was such a mess right now. He was still disappointed about what he walked out on between Bradley and Aurora as well as the other man’s reaction to him which meant that he didn’t get much sleep once he got back home. Just as he was making himself a coffee, Tee heard a knock on the door and he opened it only to close it once he saw Bradley on the other side. “Go away”, he called out through the door.

Bradley

Something inside of Bradley was changing, whether he wanted it to or not. Alcohol had worn off and a hazy head made him feel even worse about the whole ordeal at the valentines event. Bradley had sex with Aurora, been caught by Tee, before making a stupid comment. Tee. The guy he liked. Bradley was finally starting to accept his feelings towards Tee, but he had probably messed it up already. Holding a bunch of roses and a bag of gifts, Bradley sighed as Tee shut the door again. “Tee... please, I just want to talk to you. You have every right to hate me but please let me talk.”

Tee

Tee didn’t hate Bradley. They were not dating and Bradley told him from the start that wasn’t what he wanted so it’s not like he was cheating on him. He was just disappointed. Disappointed in himself for letting it get to this point and for getting in way over his head. Tee didn’t feel like talking. He just wanted to ignore that Bradley was on the other side of the door and go about his day but he couldn’t really do that. So he opened the door again and tried to look as detached as possible. “What?”

Bradley

He’d opened the door. Okay, that was a start. Bradley had already gotten past the point he didn’t think he would, and now he just stood there with his mouth hanging open, frozen. After a moment of silence, the man looked away from Tee. “I’m an asshole. I know that,” he softly started, “I don’t like dating. I don’t like going steady. I love attention and sex and just... everything about it.” Before Tee could butt in, he started speaking again with a fragile voice. “But you make me want to change all of that.”

Tee

Tee wasn’t expecting to see Bradley holding flowers on the other side of the door but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to let him get his hopes up, not again. Having already made that mistake before when the other got him flowers and when he said just the right thing in his texts, Tee knew to take his words with a pinch of salt. “So I make you want to change all that? That’s nice. Did you come to this realisation before or after you fucked Aurora in the alleyway and then told me I should have joined in when I walked out on you?” He’s been here before and a few flattering words weren’t going to be enough this time.

Bradley

All he could do was sigh. Tee was right to be acting the way he was, but Bradley couldn’t let this go. “Let me prove it to you that I’m sorry?” he asked, taking a step back. “I like you, Tee. Really like you and I’ve been too much of a coward to realise that.”

Tee

“I’m not interested in sleeping with you right now”, he snapped, misunderstanding Bradley’s words. There was only so many times he could listen to how great sex was with him before he really believing that was all the other was interested in. “You know I was looking for you yesterday? Because I wanted to talk. I can’t believe I was that stupid.” To know that while he was thinking about him, Bradley was hooking up with Aurora and who knows who else made a bitter feeling run through his stomach.

Bradley

“What were you going to say?” he asked cautiously. Curiosity spiked as Tee explained that he was looking for him. Yet all Bradley seemed to do was want to sleep with Aurora at the time. His insides were twisted and torn at the whole situation. “You’re not stupid, Tee. You’re far from it,” he said, quieter.

Tee

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His eagerness to talk to him vanished the second he saw what he walked out on. Tee had no intentions of telling him what was on his mind the night before after what he saw, not when it was clear they both wanted different things. “You should go, I have to get ready for work.” Bradley wouldn’t know that he didn’t have any sessions planned for today.

Bradley

“No!” he yelled, a little more forceful than intended. What was he going to say? How was he going to do this? It was Bradley. The man cared about nothing but his dick. “I want to date you, Tee,” he blurted out. “I want to date you and talk with you and hold your fucking hand.” Words like that never came from his mouth. Oddly, they felt normal. This is what he wanted and probably needed. “I’m not messing around anymore. You make me a better man.”

Tee

Tee was about to close his door once again but he jumped at the yell, not having expected it. He knew that he should probably close it anyways and forget anything that happened between him and Bradley, as well as anything that could have been. But he didn’t. Because the truth was that he wanted to listen to what he had to say, no matter how many times he tried to convince himself otherwise. Bradley’s words were what he wanted to hear but Tee was still hesitant. What if he was only saying that to get what he wanted? And yet...Tee had to trust that the man he’d gotten to know over the past few weeks was who Bradley really was. “Don’t just say that because you think it’s what I want.”

Bradley

“I’m not,” Bradley quickly responded. “I promise. I’m saying it because it’s what you need and what I need. It’s the truth.” It was the truth at that point in time. Whether it would stay the truth or not, he didn’t know. But it’s what he needed. “Please,” he quietly asked again, eyebrows raised into an almost puppy dog face expression. “Just give me one more chance.”

Tee

Tee was pretty sure he was going to end up regretting his decision. Dating someone who was proud of the fact that he didn’t date was probably a recipe for disaster. And yet he couldn’t send him away. Not when he was looking at him like that. He sighed and opened the door a little wider for him. “Come on, we don’t need my neighbours hearing everything.”

Bradley

The man let out a small breath he was holding in, still looking as if he was going to cry as he stepped inside. Holding up the bunch of roses and gift bag, his voice was quiet and reserved. Everything about him was small and he knew he had to hold back for a while. “For you. I didn’t know if you liked candles or chocolates... so I got both.”

Tee

“Valentine’s day isn’t for a couple more days you know”, he joked, a little hesitant since he wasn’t sure whether it was too soon. He didn’t want things between them to be so awkward, so unsure. Tee took the roses and gift bag from Bradley, holding the flowers up to his nose to smell them with his eyes closed. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone other than Bradley got him flowers. “Thank you...they’re gorgeous. I’m going to go put them in some water. Just...have a seat? If you want.”

Bradley

“I just wanted to show you I’m sorry,” he said quietly, nodding at Tee’s response. Slowly, not wanting to be too forward, Bradley took a seat on the edge of the couch. He’d never actually planned up to this point as he’d assumed Tee would have hated him, but he was grateful for the chance. Now he had to not fuck his last chance up.

Tee

Tee went to the kitchen and filled up a jar with water before putting the roses in it and taking it back to the living room. He laced the jug on the coffee table then sat down on the couch, keeping a bit of distance between him and Bradley. There was so much he wanted to say but no idea how to say it. It also felt like they were having some sort of business discussion and that’s the last thing he wanted. In the end, he decided to go for honesty. “I like you and I...I know you said you don’t date but I felt like things between us were more than just hooking up”, he shrugged. “We were getting to know each other. Then you said the thing about the sex and I was upset but when you got jealous over that guy I slept with...I thought you felt the same. So it hurt to see you with Aurora last night.”

Bradley

Listen. That’s what Bradley had to learn to do. Listen to those around him and actually use his brain. Tee saying how he felt was expected, and instead of defending himself, he actually felt bad about it. “I know. I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “It’s just... I felt that too. That we were more than hooking up. I just didn’t know how to deal with that.” Bradley was scared. That’s all it was. He’d never done this before, therefore he did what he knew. Being an asshole with no feelings was easy.

Tee

Hearing that he didn’t get things wrong and Bradley really did see it as more than booking up surprised him, although not in a bad way. Tee thought he would have to talk for a little longer for him to feel like he could open up about it. “And now? Do you know how to deal with it now?”

Bradley

Truthfully, no. But he knew how to not be an ass about it. Bradley shook his head gently, avoiding eye contact. “No, but I’m going to learn. Hopefully with you.” He couldn’t see himself in a relationship, but when he thought about his love life, all he saw was Tee right now. “If you want to, that is. I totally get it if you don’t want to.”

Tee

It wasn’t about not wanting to do this but more that he was scared. Tee didn’t want to get hurt and he was terrified that he was setting himself up for a lot of pain. He knew what he was going to say from the second Bradley walked in and sat down. “Fine, but we’re doing this together. I’m not some sort of...experiment, for you to learn all about dating until you get tired of it and move on. If that’s what you had in mind then you should go.”

Bradley

Nodding, Bradley understood. He never even though of it like that. Listening, though, helped him to see how this could be for Tee. “You’re not an experiment,” he repeated. “You’d be my... boyfriend.” The word felt foreign from his mouth but it left nothing but a smile. Boyfriend. Maybe Bradley could get used to being in a relationship.

Tee

If someone had told Tee a few weeks ago that he would be here, hearing Bradley say that he would be his boyfriend, he would have laughed in their faces. Back then Bradley was nothing to him other than someone who didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut and sometimes made asshole comments. And now here he was, realising that he was so much more than that. “Your boyfriend?” he asked, testing out the word on his tongue. “I guess...I guess I’m your boyfriend then.”

Bradley

Boyfriend. Tee and Bradley... together. He could help but hide a smile as the words left Tee’s lips. “We’re going to do this?” he asked quietly. This was a huge step for Bradley. Whether they did this or not, just the fact that he accepted the possibility of the situation was massive. It may have not changed him for good like a flip of a switch overnight, but he was getting there. This was it.

Tee

“Yeah”, he said, not even bothering to hide his little grin at finally coming to an agreement. And what an agreement. Tee still couldn’t believe he had a boyfriend now. After how things ended with Kami, he never thought this would happen to him again. That he would ever feel comfortable enough with someone else to give it a try. “We’re going to do this.”

Bradley

“Okay, then,” he mumbled in agreement, smiling. “You’re my boyfriend. This is it.” Bradley felt warm inside and oddly excited over the matter. He already had ideas of how to get to know Tee even more and where they could go together. The lack of a social life probably didn’t help Bradley. All of the things he wanted to try and do was never done as he had no one to go with. Now, he had Tee. He just had to not scare him away. “Thank you for listening and giving me a chance.”

Tee

A part of Tee almost wanted to laugh over the fact that they almost confirmed it like they just did some sort of business deal together and not confirmed that they were boyfriends. It was still weird to think about, hardly able to believe that he had a boyfriend now. Him. “Thank you for coming.” Smooth, Tee. “I mean, for even bothering to come here and explain yourself.”