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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Ivy

➣ Pairing: apprentice!Jungkook x reader, art curator!Hoseok x reader

➣ Premise: You’ve been promised to Jung Hoseok for twelve years. You’ve never wanted anything else. Until now. (inspired by the song “Ivy” by Taylor Swift)

➣ Genre: arranged marriage au, angsty with some fluff, SFW

➣ warnings/tags: it’s a bit angsty, the reader is technically promised to someone else so it’s a little messy, general EmOTioNS, a bit intense/stalkerish but not too bad?? some fun fluff and banter as well, but Hoseok might kill a man and Jungkook will go down fighting

➣ word count: 12.2k *yeah, I know. this sucker is like 3 times longer than it was meant to be*

➣ a/n: this was a commission by @delacyrose224 for Army for AAPI! Thank you so much for requesting this awesome prompt, I literally had too much fun writing this. I swear, I could’ve made a whole series out of this. You guys, check out ways to get involved in this awesome cause by clicking the link!

The person staring back at you in the mirror is not you. Of that, you are certain. There’s no way you could ever pull this off – the silken layers, ivory making your skin glow with a dew-like complexion…

You voice as much. “I don’t even recognize myself.”

“Isn’t that kind of the point?”

Whirling around in a flurry of skirts and soft-to-the-touch fabric, you spot your betrothed lingering in the doorway.

“Hoseok!”

He chuckles, the sound making the corners of your lips tug upward. Taking in the sight before him, you can’t help but notice the way he chews on the inside of his cheek. Hoseok takes one hesitant step forward, crossing his arms.

“You should’ve seen me earlier,” he croons, voice always sounding like he’s a breath away from laughter. “I thought my dad had somehow teleported into the mirror.”

You wince. “Does this mean we’ve grown up?”

“Unfortunately.”

Twelve years of waiting for this. How have they already passed?

“You know,” Hoseok begins, dropping your gaze in favor of stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t even properly proposed to you, yet.”

“You should probably get on it.”

“Mmm.”

“Aren’t we getting married in April?”

He frowns. “Yeah, mid-April I think. It’s barely November, though. So there’s no pressure, right?”

You almost burst out laughing at his simple question. No pressure? Pressure has been your constant companion these past twelve years.

What else were you supposed to feel? Trying telling a thirteen year old that they’re already promised to somebody and then tell them “Oh, but no pressure.” Of course, they made sure to drop that little piece of pointless comfort after they mentioned who you had been promised to.

Jung Hoseok.

Three years your senior, he had seemed larger-than-life when you first met less than a year after learning of your pre-determined commitment to him. He’d been kind, that was your first thought. A little strange, a little loud at times. For your teenage self, that was fine.

Then things began to change. It was a rare occasion that you ever saw Hoseok; the two of you lived in different cities. However you distinctly remember one occasion in which you had unintentionally bumped into him while in search of your parents at their giant headquarters located in Busan.

It was easy to get lost in that building – you still can picture all the different nooks and crannies where different works of art were stored. The more valuable ones were of course under lock and key, however there were plenty of show rooms that you managed to get lost in.

You had done just that, taking a detour through the preservation room where several workers could be seen on the other side of the glass cleaning a timeless piece that had just been flown in from Austria. Once you realized where you were, you turned to leave. However, something caught your eye that made you hesitate.

There was Hoseok, perched on the edge of a stool as he leaned over the artwork. There was nothing particularly flashy about him that day, something you weren’t used to. In all your time of knowing him (four years at that point), you had never seen him in something other than formal wear. If it wasn’t some sort of suit or dress shirt, it was a sweater vest that he somehow managed to pull off.

This time, he was disguised in a white lab coat, holding a Loup to his eye in an effort to analyze the fine details of the painting. His brown hair was a little mussed, his knee bouncing up and down in the only outward show of excitement he portrayed.

One of the workers began speaking, the details of their conversation muted to your ears due to the glass separating you from them. However, you watched as Hoseok listened with almost terrifying focus before turning back to the painting and delicately taking a brush to the frame. No doubt dusting off some invisible smudge.

You had been frozen for a long moment, completely unfamiliar with this man. The Hoseok you knew was jovial and quick to laughter. He made you smile and roll your eyes. He put you at ease.

This man, with his precise flicks of the wrist and unwavering focus, was a force of nature.

You realized then, at the age of seventeen that while you were promised to this man, you did not know him at all. There was so much more hiding behind that heart-shaped smile.

And now, at twenty-five, you are no closer to knowing him than you were before. You’ve never known anyone else quite so talented at wielding smiles with the same deftness as a sniper hiding on a rooftop.

“No pressure?” You scoff, wiggling an eyebrow at your intended sniper. “That means I can’t gain any weight from here to April! That’s impossible with the holidays coming up!”

Hoseok bursts out laughing, clapping at your comment as though you’ve just completed a stand-up routine. “That’s a good point,” he sighs, making a contented sound. “I’ll have to ask my tailor to let out my suit a bit in the spring.”

You fidget on the pedestal, glancing back at the mirror over your shoulder. Your gown is breathtaking, there’s no denying it. It’s just…overwhelming.

“Well,” Hoseok begins to back out of the room, “You look beautiful. Sorry for snooping around, but I couldn’t resist.”

You straighten up at his comment, preening a bit. Over the years, you’ve come to realize that Hoseok’s compliments are not given lightly.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs. “It’s true.” He turns on his heel and strides out the door, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll fly out first thing in the morning.”

Piano Concerto No. 4 in G, from Beethoven’s Opera 58 echoes off the domed ceiling, bouncing through the air and enveloping you in a cocoon of music. Without your realizing, your right foot bounces out the rhythm as you crane your neck to get a better look at your work.

“C’mon, David,” you groan, sparing the renowned sculpture a glare. “You’re not making this easy on me.”

“I wasn’t aware that sculptures got vasectomies.”

You jolt, nearly tipping off of your step stool before two warm hands grasp your shoulders. Sputtering and spewing, you spin around to see just who you need to direct your cursing at.

“Who are you?” You fume as the person in question removes their hands from you and takes a timid step back.

“Jeon Jungkook, m-ma’am.”

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen even more, something you didn’t think he was capable of doing. Chowing down on his bottom lip, he gives you a small shake of his head.

“Then tell me who you are to me, not your name.” You inwardly grimace at your snappy tone, but you’ll apologize later.

“Oh, I…uh, I’m the apprentice?” When you don’t immediately get a look of understanding on your face, Jungkook presses on. “Mr. Jung’s apprentice, ma’am.”

Ah, that checks out.

Hoseok’s father would be stepping down as the East-Asia representative on the international board of Art and Artifacts (basically the equivalent of the U.N. in art terms), leaving a spot open for Hoseok to ascend the ranks.

“Why haven’t I met you before? Haven’t you been around for a while?”

In order to complete the apprenticeship, Jungkook would need at least three years of working alongside Hoseok. Learning the ins and outs of being the curator of some of the biggest art collections and galleries in the world.

“Yes ma’am, I have.”

“Ok, Jungkook,” you stand up and stretch, gaining some sort of sick satisfaction from the way he scampers back a bit more to give you space. “Two things. First, I’m not ‘ma’am’. Just speak to me casually, ok?”

There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes, but he nods. “And the second thing?”

Turning point to the David in all his glory, you smirk over your shoulder. “Don’t sneak up on me when I’m working. David here nearly lost his balls because you startled me.”

Cheeks flushed pink, Jungkook sputters out something resembling a “y-yes, I won’t do it again” before dropping his gaze to the floor. Chuckling to yourself, you resume your position before the sculpture, meticulously layering on a protective substance to the David’s nether regions.

You and Hoseok had been called over to Italy in order to make preparations for the upcoming art show. It was to be the first of its kind --- never before had these timeless artworks been on display like this. Royalty, presidents, dignitaries of every kind mixed with world-class celebrities would be present.

As a precaution you were going through and applying a protective but clear substance to more fragile parts of the artworks. Today, the David was the lucky one.

“So, Jungkook,” you hum, completely undeterred by the strange position you were in at the moment. “What brings you over to my side of the museum today? Shouldn’t you be off with Hoseok, planning for the event?”

“Ah, well…Mr. Jung said you might need a hand. I volunteered to assist you with whatever you need.”

You blink. Hoseok had always been completely content to leave you to your work. It was a silent agreement you have: you let him do his thing, and he doesn’t interfere with your stuff.

“Huh.” You smooth out the final touches, leaning back a bit. “Interesting. So what, you’re just hanging out with me for the rest of the day?”

“Yep. For the rest of the week, actually.”

David stares off into the distance, ever stoic. You swear you can see a bit of a confused glint in his eye as the sculpture listens in on your conversation. It’s always just been you and the artwork. So what’s this with Hoseok sending Jungkook over? Is he just trying to be kind and help you out?

Probably. There’s no need to assume anything else. You just think…

Well, despite trusting you, you would think he’d send someone less attractive to help you with your work. Is this some sort of trust exercise he’s pulling on you before he proposes? Or does he just not care enough to think about the possible repercussions of his actions?

“Doesn’t he care at least a little bit?” You think aloud, frowning up at David.

“What was that?”

“Oh,” you swivel around to give Jungkook an apologetic smile. “Nothing. Do me a favor?” Jungkook nods. “Take a look at this for me, see if the extra layer is noticeable at all.”

Getting up to move out of his way, you can’t help the grin that breaks out as Jungkook flushes a bit when he gets up close and personal with the David. Despite his obvious embarrassment though, he meticulously checks ever angle.

“I can’t tell at all,” he finally responds, straightening up. “You’re amazing.”

You blink. “Oh. Er…thanks.”

“So, where to next?”

“We look like those ancient plague doctors,” Jungkook jokes, hanging you a bottle of clear liquid before you can even ask for it. “You know, like with the big beaks and stuff?”

You snort, which in turn fogs up the inside of your suit. Waiting a moment for it to clear up, you glance back at Hoseok’s apprentice.

He has a point. The two of you look slightly ridiculous, in your full body Hazmat suits that are necessary to inspect these ancient papyrus scrolls. They’re falling apart already, no need for you to contaminate them with something as feeble as a sigh. Once you’re finished working on them, they’ll be placed in thick Plexiglas cases which will keep them safe from the outside world.

“We’re missing the beaks, though.”

Jungkook hums, watching you carefully as you smooth out the scroll. “I bet we could roll these up and use them as beaks.”

“Not funny.”

“Worth a shot.”

Rolling your eyes again; something you’ve become prone to doing in the past 24 hours you’ve known Jungkook, you set to work.

It’s only quiet for so long before Jungkook speaks up again. He does so quietly, making good on his promise not to startle you anymore. “No Beethoven today?”

You give a slight shake of your head, hardly daring to blink while applying the syrupy liquid to the bottom corner of the document. The slightest mess up would result in having to scrape it off before it dries, which is something you don’t want to have to try. Not when a single nick to the papyrus equals game over.

Letting out a sigh of relief once you’ve completed that section, you sit back and stretch. “No,” you groan out mid-yawn. “It felt like a Tchaikovsky kind of day. Don’t know why.”

“Hmm.”

“Ok, we need to wait…” you glance at the clock on the wall. “About an hour to let that completely set in before flipping it and working on the other side.”

“Great, let’s grab some lunch.”

You blink, watching Jungkook as he shoots to his feet and heads toward the door. “I was going to suggest we get started on the next exhibit-”

“Food first,” Jungkook chimes, leaving no room for argument as your stomach rumbles at the thought of lunch. “We’re literally in Italy, food always comes first.”

Well, he has a point.

You make a point of locating Hoseok before heading out for food, eventually finding him in a grand corridor surrounded by staff. Wherever Hoseok is, there’s constant motion. People flitting about, running errands and trying to keep everything moving in a timely fashion.

As the two of you became closer work partners over the past few years, it’s become a familiar sight. It helps, finding Hoseok is usually fairly easy. Today proves no different.

“Hoseok!” You wave him down, offering a smile to the surrounding staff that recognize you. The man in question is nudged by his assistant, Joshua.

“Hey!” Hoseok breaks away from the group and jogs over to where you stand beside a column. He nods at Jungkook, smiling warmly. “What’re you two up to? I thought you were working the papyrus today.”

“We have an hour before we can move on to the next thing, so we’re grabbing lunch. Wanna come?”

“Oh,” the look of surprise on his face gives you cause to wonder when the last time you invited him to do something with you was. “That sounds…really nice, actually. Give me a minute?”

Your heart stumbles as it pick up in speed, something you weren’t anticipating. “Yeah, sure. We’ll wait right here.”

“Great, thanks.”

With that, he scurries back over to the throng. Jungkook leans over to you, elbow nudging your arm.

“What?”

“How long do you think they’ll last before calling him?” Jungkook muses, an amused smile on his face.

You can’t help but laugh, knowing full well that it won’t be long. “I’d say…thirty minutes?”

“Really? I’ll give them forty.”

“You’re too generous.”

“Aren’t you being too hard on them?”

Your eyes slide over to Jungkook, arching a brow. “No. So what are we betting?”

Jungkook breathes through his teeth, taking in your determined expression. “Hmmm…money or something else?”

“Not money, that’s too boring.”

“Ok, ok.” Crossing his arms, Jungkook sways from side to side as he thinks. Slowly, his eyes drag across your face, trying to see something that’s beneath the surface. “If you lose, you have to be my date to the gala.”

“W-what?!” You choke on your spit, staring up at Jungkook like he just grew a second head. “I can’t- why would you-”

He tilts his head to one side, clearly enjoying your shock. “Hurry, make your bet. What happens if you win?”

“Jungkook, I’m literally marrying Hoseok in a few months, I can’t just go as someone else’s date!”

“Don’t worry,” he winks, only furthering your embarrassment, “I’ve it all planned out. Now, hurry up. He’s heading back.”

Indeed, Hoseok is clapping Joshua on the shoulder and turning this way. Chewing furiously on the inside of your cheek, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Ok, well if I win then you have to leave me alone for the rest of the week!”

There’s a hint of worry that streaks across Jungkook’s features, but it’s covered up a few seconds later as he thrusts out his hand to shake on it. “Deal.”

With the way he grins down at you, you can’t help but feel like this was a stupid thing to bet on.

You’re wedged into a booth not long after, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Hoseok. Jungkook takes the spot across from you two, never missing a beat in his conversation with your betrothed.

“The guest list has been finalized,” Hoseok is saying, smiling warmly at the server that drops off some menus. You don’t miss the way she ogles your companions, shrugging it off. It’s become a common occurrence. You’re not blind to their looks.

“It wasn’t finished before?” You ask, frowning. Hoseok passes a menu to you, leaning in a bit closer. It’s unnecessary, but the way he lets his leg rest against yours has a rush shooting through you.

So…this is a new development.

“No,” Jungkook answers for him. “Well, we thought it was, but then the curator here wanted to invite some more political officials. Has it been a mess trying to rearrange?”

“Yeah, but everyone pulled their weight.”

“That’s good to hear.”

It’s relatively quiet as you all look over your menus, bouncing ideas off of each other for what they should get. After you’ve placed your orders, Hoseok nudges you.

“Your mother called me last night.”

Your eyes widen. “She did?”

Both men chuckle at your obvious worry. “Yes, she did. We had a nice chat. Why do you look so concerned?”

Perhaps it has something to do with the last conversation you had with your mother. It took place about three weeks ago, when she’d come up to Seoul for a visit. The visit had been pleasant enough; you’d gone to dinner and talked about things back home. She’d actually approved of your apartment, despite the eclectic feel to it.

It has almost been too normal. You should’ve known that it was only a matter of time before something happened.

You were busy putting your leftovers from the restaurant in the fridge, your mother hovering in the doorway to the kitchen with a pensive look on her face.

“Have you ever had…doubts?”

“Doubts?” Your voice was muffled from the odd angle, but you peeked out around the door of the fridge with a questioning look. “About what?”

Your mother shrugged, keeping her eyes trained on the door of the fridge and its decorative magnets. “About Hoseok.”

You immediately stood, closing the door with a dull thud. “What?”

“I just…your wedding is coming up, he’s probably going to propose within the next couple of months – for heaven’s sake, you have your dress fitting coming up in just a couple of weeks, isn’t that right?”

“Mom,” you voice was stern. “What is this about? You’re scaring me.”

At your confession your mother finally met your eyes. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean to worry you so much. But I can’t help but wonder, you know? We’ve never really talked about it-”

“There was never anything to talk about!” You sigh, exasperated. “All I’ve known is that I’m going to end up with Hoseok, and that’s that! He’s a nice man, hardworking, and we make a good team.”

“I know, darling. I know.” She hesitated before stepping forward, coming to place a loving hand on your cheek. “I just want you to know that you get to make this decision. Even though it may not have always felt like it. There is…more. Out there, for you.”

More?

“Just, uh…” you shake your head, trying to clear your mind of those thoughts rolling around your head. “Wanted to make sure she didn’t share any embarrassing information about me.”

This makes both men chuckle, Jungkook leaning forward with eager eyes. “Like what? Do tell.”

You blush at his undivided attention, groaning and slipping down further in your seat. Hopefully neither of them notice your pink cheeks, something tells you that Jungkook would never let you live it down.

The fact that you don’t know how Hoseok would react has you even more on edge.

Hoseok grins at you as you sit up again, reaching around your shoulders to pull you close. “Aw, you probably don’t have any embarrassing stories. We all already know that you’re perfect.”

You blink, staring up at your betrothed as his smile softens. He’s never spoken to you like this. First sending extra help in the form of Jungkook, then dropping everything to go to lunch, now this?

Before your mind can run with the idea blooming in your chest, your server appears with your food. Her eyes instantly zone in on you and Hoseok, something registering in her eyes as she offers you a warm smile. Then, she turns her full attention on Jungkook. Practically eating him alive as she sets his food down in front of him.

“Your hair is so long,” she muses. “I’ve never seen anyone able to pull off hair like that…what’s your secret?”

Jungkook, who you assumed would preen in the attention, hardly glances the girl’s way. His eyes rest on where Hoseok’s hand ghosts over your shoulder, slow in its retreat. Jungkook keeps a neutral expression, although his eyes shoot up to yours in a way that has you pinned to the back of the booth.

It’s over just as quickly as it began, Jungkook grinning down at his food and mumbling, “No secret. Just good genes.” He doesn’t wait another second before diving into his food. You snort at his reply, Hoseok just shaking his head before beginning to eat in a more meticulous manner. If he noticed the strange exchange that just passed between you and Jungkook, he doesn’t say anything.

Or maybe it was all in your head. Maybe that protective coating you applied to the papyrus earlier today has gone straight to your head, addling your brain.

The food is delicious, as expected. The three of you fall into an easy conversation, revolving mainly around work. You notice that Jungkook keeps checking his phone, but you ignore it.

That is, until he offers you a smug smile before focusing his attention on Hoseok.

“So, for this gala…we’re meant to bring a plus one, right?”

Hoseok nods. “Yep.”

“Who’re you taking?”

Hoseok laughs, taking a long sip of his drink. “Who? I don’t know, I feel like I should maybe take the woman I’m marrying in a few months.” He shoots you a friendly wink, but you can’t completely return his light-hearted nature. Has it already been forty minutes? But still, there’s been no call…

“Oh,” a familiar ringtone cuts through the air, and Hoseok grabs his phone from his pocket, frowning at the screen. “It’s Joshua. I’ll just step outside for a moment.”

Hoseok is too busy sliding out of the booth to notice the way your jaw drops. The second he’s out of sight, you turn an accusatory glare toward Jungkook. “What was that? Did you seriously tell them to call-”

“Before you castrate me, I’d like to defend myself. Can I do that?”

“And then I can castrate you?”

Jungkook visibly swallows. “I only meant it hypothetically, but…just listen.” When you angrily wave for him to continue, the smug smile from earlier reappears on his face. “I have this all under control. But, from where I’m sitting, I won our little bet. So I have a question for you.”

“I’m not going with you, Hoseok is taking me!”

Pushing his tongue against his cheek, Jungkook sits back and observes you for a moment. “Don’t be so sure about that, sweetheart. Now, what color of dress are you wearing to this thing?”

You do your best to ignore Jungkook for the rest of the day. Hoseok chats happily with you on the walk back to the museum, occasionally finding a way to let his hand graze yours. It’s enough to keep you distracted from Jungkook’s complacent expression which is usually directed in your direction.

Parting from Hoseok is like parting with a security blanket, and he looks to be particularly pleased with the way you run your hand down his arm before bidding him goodbye. Jungkook huffs a breath, which goes unnoticed by your betrothed as he heads into the building where countless workers wait for him.

“I’m still waiting on an answer,” Jungkook chides a few moments later. You’re desperately trying to outpace him, annoyed when he easily keeps up.

“You’re not getting one and we’re not going together.”

“Didn’t I tell you that I’d take care of it? Everything. Even Hoseok.” You stop in your tracks when Jungkook jumps in front of the doors, opening one up with a flourish.

“Jungkook.”

“Yes, darling?” It’s infuriating how much you react to the pet name, your reddening cheeks giving you away instantly.

“Stop.”

Jungkook blinks, straightening up a bit as you sweep past him and head inside. When he’s silent the entire walk to the papyrus lab, you let out a sigh of relief. Never mind the fact that there’s a dull disappointment blooming in your chest. For a moment, it was nice to think of what a night at Jungkook’s side could be like.

It would certainly be different than what you’re used to with Hoseok. Not that you two often spend occasions like this together, it’s more of a formality than anything. The first few minutes are always a dream: Hoseok can’t take his eyes off of you and gets flustered. He’s a perfect gentleman, and even goes so far as to hold you close to him when entering the event.

However, it only takes a few minutes before he’s swept off in one direction and you the other. Collogues, board members, and possible buyers of the rare artwork on display keep you two busy and apart for the entirety of the night.

You make to step into the prep room, ready to get back into your hazmat suit and start on the other side of the papyrus scrolls. The moment you step in, however, the thought of being stuck in such a small space with Jungkook nearly makes your lightheaded. Focus is paramount in your line of work, and Jungkook counts as a distraction.

“Would you go around to the sculptures we worked on yesterday and make sure they’re doing ok?” You glance over your shoulder to see Jungkook freeze in the doorway. “I, uh…I never know how they’re going to respond to the added layer.”

Jungkook has lost all of his previous swagger, simply giving you a curt nod before turning to walk away. You can’t help but watch as he briskly heads down the hallways, running his hands through his hair before fisting them at the nape.

You jump a little as the door closes, lost in your thoughts. Rushing back to you are your mother’s words.

“There is…more. Out there, for you.”

The words settle for a moment before you snort, chuckling to yourself before putting one leg in the hazmat suit. “They’re both hot. So what?”

Two more days pass in a similar fashion. Jungkook is always waiting for you at the entrance to the museum, resembling an eager puppy before you shut him down with a stern look.

Last night you spent a ridiculous amount of time coming up with errands you could send him on that wouldn’t seem too suspicious. For the most part it’s worked; you’ve been working alone for most of the day, and Jungkook hasn’t seemed too keen to intrude.

A part of you feels a bit bad for shutting him out so much, but you really have no reason to let him in. Especially not when he was so set on taking you to the gala when you’re very clearly promised to another.

“Does he have something against Hoseok?”

Your question is directed to your current project, The Incoronation of the Virgin, by Jacopo di Cione. Of course, the virgin humbly sitting with a crown on her head pays you no mind, but you carry on anyway.

“But then again, why would he? He’s getting his job, isn’t he?” You sit back, lightly dusting at the finer details of the mural. “Oh, maybe he’s angry at me.”

“Why would I be angry at you?”

You gasp as you stumble back, losing your footing from where you were on a stepping stool. You gasp louder (if that’s possible) when two sturdy hands grab your waist, firmly keeping you in place.

“Steady?”

“Why do you keep sneaking up on me?” You seethe, stepping down and out of Jungkook’s grasp. “Did I ask you to finish cleaning the bottles we used yesterday?”

“I finished that.”

“And what about sweeping the work area?”

“Done.”

“What about-”

“Done,” Jungkook looks like he’s considering taking another step, but stays put. “I finished everything. Now would you quit sending me away?”

You give him a long look, noting the way his cheeks burn under your gaze. After a moment you sigh. “Yeah, fine.”

Jungkook perks up instantly, and a second later you find him glued to your side. He gazes up at the panel you’ve been working on, his mouth dropping of its own accord.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

“Mmhm.” You head back up the step stool, getting back to work while Jungkook holds it steady. He admires the artwork, leaving you in relative peace.

“How did you get into this stuff?” He asks from the other end of the painting. You arch a brow before furrowing it, trying to come up with a reasonable answer.

“I…well, this is what my family does.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I guess they tend to lean more toward the buying and selling of artwork. From my teen years I’ve always gravitated more toward the conservation of artwork.”

“Why’s that?” The fact that he sounds genuinely interested throws you off, making you pause as you meet his curious gaze. There’s no malice in his eyes, not a hint of the annoying pride from two days prior. Just genuine interest.

It gives you a falling sensation, which has you clinging to the stool until it passes.

“It’s quiet. Peaceful, for the most part.”

“But it’s stressful, too?”

The beginnings of a smile curl at your lips. “Yes, that too.”

A companionable silence falls between the two of you after that, allowing for you to work quickly and efficiently. Once you’re satisfied with the panel, you find Jungkook ready to hold the stool steady while you get down.

“What about you?” The question falls from your lips before you really understand what you’re asking.

“Me?”

“Yeah. Why did you decide to become an apprentice? It’s a long apprenticeship. And last I checked, curating isn’t exactly a hot trend.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose in a way that has you wondering if what you just said was somehow absolutely adorable. He certainly thinks it was.

“Well, there are a number of reasons.” He glances sidelong at you as you gather your things to head back to the storage space. “But mainly because it felt right.”

You frown. “That’s your reason?” Jungkook nods, amusement glittering in his eyes. “What happens when you wake up and it doesn’t feel right anymore?”

“Why? Do you know the feeling?”

Suddenly you know that you’re no longer talking about career choices. It’s only confirmed when Jungkook slows to a stop, hoisting up the bucket of supplies and facing you.

“I- no, I love my job-”

“Haven’t you ever wondered, though?” Now it’s practically impossible to decipher what exactly is going on behind Jungkook’s bright eyes, his long brown hair falling into his face. “There’s more out there, you know. Why do you stay?”

For some reason, you’re frozen in place. A deer in the headlights, probably reading way too much into this conversation.

“S-stay?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook takes a small step forward, as though afraid of scaring you off. “After all this time, you’re still here. Why?”

Your breath is caught in your throat. “I…” The world stops spinning as Jungkook tilts his head to one side, eyes swallowing you whole as they trace the outline of your lips. Despite not laying a single finger on you, your skin blazes as though he were physically reaching out.

With a step back, you glare at the floor before taking a steeling breath. “The retirement plan’s great. Hard to pass up on.”

The sound of your footsteps echo off the walls, listening for Jungkook to follow after you.

He doesn’t.

“So, about the gala.” Hoseok stands in the doorway to your hotel room, tie long gone and top button loosed. It’s a rare sight, and yet it never fails to be one of your favorites. “I have a weird proposition for you.”

You kick off your shoes, not bothering with decency as you fall back on your bed with a groan. “Shoot.”

“Jungkook has this really prestigious cousin that’s connected to the royal family-”

“Royal family?” You sit up, frowning at Hoseok.

“Yeah, like the British one? I think so, at least. Anyway, I don’t remember how she’s connected but it’s a big deal. And apparently she asked for me to escort her at the gala.”

If blood could run cold, yours is pushing freezing. “Huh. Is that so.”

Hoseok gives you an apologetic smile. “I know it’s weird and that’s why I came to you, I don’t want to hurt you-”

“I’ll just go by myself, it’s fine.”

“No, no. You’re not going alone. Jungkook already offered to take you.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, resolve withering at the sight of Hoseok’s tentative hope. You wonder if he would really back down if you asked to go with him. To let Jungkook’s schmoozing cousin find a different date.

“Just say the word,” Hoseok offers with a fading smile. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

For some reason, your ears expect to hear the word darling at the end of that sentence. But they don’t, and you know exactly where you can go for that.

More, huh?

“That’s fine, Hoseok. Really. What’s one night?”

Hoseok rushes forward with glee, wrapping you in his arms for a second before backing away and heading toward the door. “You’re amazing, you know that? Absolutely amazing. The guests are going to be in awe of your work.”

The guests are, unsurprisingly, oblivious to your meticulous work.

You’re not complaining, they’re not meant to notice it. Your work is behind the scenes, whereas Hoseok’s work is visible everywhere.

His handywork acts as a constant reminder of him, keeping you on edge as you trail up the flower-studded stairs that are already overflowing with guests. A few give you odd looks as you walk alone, but most are too preoccupied with their own problems to care much for yours.

You don’t know how he did it, but Jungkook managed to get you all to himself after all. The thought had left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach all day yesterday at work, hardly bothering to exchange more than a few words with the man in question. It seemed like he had almost anticipated this, content to leave you be. It was when he asked what time he should pick you up that you looked at him, angry at the fact that you immediately admired his outfit of choice. It suited him, which shouldn’t have come as such a surprise.

“I’ll meet you there,” you had responded firmly, hopefully leaving no room for argument. “Wait for me beside the entrance.”

It was bad enough that you were going without your betrothed; that another woman was going to be hanging off his arm all night. The last thing you wanted was to create an equally flashy arrival with his apprentice. You were by no means the most popular guests in attendance tonight, but the guarantee of countless cameras had you refraining from taking any chances.

Now, as you make your way to the entrance, you try to not look too eager. Jungkook is nowhere to be found yet, making you frown, but movement catches your attention in the corner of your eye.

Stepping from the shadows is Jungkook, looking like he was made for this event. The first thing you notice about him is the wistful smile he gives you, which you return before your mind catches up with what’s going on.

He looks…immaculate. Not over-the-top, he’s wearing a fairly standard black suit with a thin black tie. Nothing too flashy, but it might as well be an original piece with the way he wears it. His hair has been carefully styled, so unlike the careless mop you’ve seen throughout this week.

Jungkook moves toward you like a man on a mission while you remain at the top of the stairs, hardly daring to breathe.

“Hello,” he mutters, coming to a stop before you. “You look…stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, perhaps already knowing that your tongue has turned leaden in his presence. Jungkook offers you his arm, which you graciously take. Hopefully he doesn’t pay too much attention to the way you’re gripping his forearm for dear life.

The two of you sweep inside, gaining easy access as you’re well acquainted with the staff. As you pass a long, tall mirror that’s flanked by sphinxes, you can’t help but glance over.

You do look stunning.

The red gown you wear isn’t too revealing, not too flashy, but calls attention to you just the same. No matter where you are tonight, Hoseok will be able to find you with ease. The thought fills you with a sick sort of satisfaction. He’ll see you, but he’ll see who’s arm you’re on, as well.

With Jungkook by your side, you’re a force of nature. The two of you are no longer walking, rather prowling the premises as you make your way toward the ballroom. A few stragglers that are trying to get a peek at the closed off exhibits notice your keen eye and scamper off.

It’s a new sensation to you, watching those people flee from before you as though you were an enemy soldier on a mission. Perhaps it has something to do with the way Jungkook appears to be smoldering beside you, emitting a dangerous aura that you never realized he could give off. For a brief moment, the silly boy you’ve been actively avoiding this week has vanished. In his wake stands a man with a purpose, the successor to the famed Jung Hoseok, and a legitimate contender amongst art dealers.

“I’m not used to this,” you mutter as Jungkook continues in his path. His steps are timed perfectly to your own, and you wonder if that’s a mere coincidence or if he’s currently keeping count in his head.

“Used to what?” Even his voice has turned to a dangerous rasp, smoky eyes sliding over to observe you.

“People respecting personal space. Usual they all flock to Hoseok the second he walks in the door.”

The corner of his lips pull up in a smirk. “And which do you prefer?”

You sigh. “Are you seriously turning this into a competition?”

You’re almost to the ballroom, but you let out a surprised sound when you veer off course into a deserted corridor just above the stairs that lead down into the ballroom. You realize that he’s taking you across a small overlook which shows the ballroom, a flurry of suits and dresses writhing before you on the level below. It’s a mesmerizing sight, and upon instinct you seek out Hoseok.

Jungkook notices your search, pausing to allow you to look around a bit more. He studies your side profile carefully. “Is that such a bad thing?” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s referring to the competition.

There’s Hoseok, sure enough he’s weaving in and out of the crowd. People smile and clap him on the back, making space for him and his companion to get through.

Jungkook’s cousin, Margaret, stays close behind your betrothed. She even goes so far as to hold onto his hand, offering him a shy smile when he looks back at her questioningly. However, he does nothing to shake her off.

“Yes,” you answer. Then, “He never took me along with him.”

“You mean at events like these?” Jungkook stands beside you at the railing, eyes instantly finding the “he” you’re referring to. “I know. You two usually go your separate ways.”

The nonchalant manner with which he comments this has you turning to face him, confusion clear on your face. “How could you know that?”

Jungkook frowns, popping his knuckles as he refuses to look at you. “Isn’t it pretty common knowledge? You two are both prominent members of the art community that hardly have time for each other. The rest is fairly simple to figure out.”

You step to the side, granting yourself enough space to glare up at the man.

“Fairly simple? Jungkook, I don’t know why you think you can make assumptions about my relationship with Hoseok, but there’s no need to do so. You’re right, we’re both busy. But we’re happy. Why do you seem so intent on making me second guess that? Why is everything a competition with you?”

You’re surprised when Jungkook doesn’t step down like he usually does. Instead he straightens up, leaning in a bit closer while his eyes bore into your own. You swallow, pressing your nails into the palm of your hand when his gaze tracks the movement of your throat.

“Calling it a competition might be a bit crass,” Jungkook mutters, voice coming out much softer than you anticipated. “But I guess you can say that. Sure, it’s a competition. As of right now, there are no clear winners.”

“But what are you two competing for?” You ask, exasperated. “There’s no need to go after Hoseok, Jungkook. You’re getting his position in just a few months, you’ll have the same influence he does now. I don’t understand. Why go to such great lengths? Are you trying to usurp him or something?”

Jungkook finds a way to step impossibly closer, one hand gripping the railing while the other finds your hand. “Which would you deem more valuable: your hand in marriage or your heart?”

Dangerous, this is dangerous, your heart chides. Despite the warning, you can’t help but sneer and step impossibly closer. There’s a spark of anger deep within you, and if it wasn’t for your current predicament you would stop for a moment and wonder when the last time you felt such an intense emotion was, but you press on.

“I wasn’t aware that I had to choose,” you seethe. You swallow a gasp as Jungkook leans in, nose nearly bumping against yours.

You can see whole galaxies in those eyes of his. Glinting and shining under the light of the chandelier, stars begging for you to come dance. What would happen if you danced under his stars? Something tells you that you don’t want to find out.

“That’s not an answer,” Jungkook breathes out.

“I’m sorry, what that not good enough for you?”

He blinks, an amused smirk painting his features. “You’re angry. Good.”

“Good?” You sputter out, taking a small step back and finding it infinitely easier to breathe now that there’s some distance between you two. “You wanted me to be angry?”

Shrugging, Jungkook rolls his neck from side to side, looking casual as ever. As though you weren’t just about to bite his nose off if he were to say one more stupid thing.

“Anger is an emotion. I count that as a win. Now,” he extends his hand out with a flourish, “shall we dance?”

“No.”

“I’d rethink that answer if I were you, darling.” Jungkook makes a point of looking out over the railing, and your eyes unwillingly follow his line of sight.

There’s Hoseok, spinning Margaret around and around. His smile is wide, and you can hear his laughter from up here.

He has no idea that you’re up here fighting for your marriage, does he?

Again, that anger is stoked until it’s steadily consuming you. With a huff that sounds more akin to a grown, you take Jungkook’s hand.

“One. Dance.”

One turns into two, and two turns to four. The music lilts and does almost all the work, Jungkook picking up the slack as he moves your through the songs. You can hardly tell where one ends and another begins, all you know is two things.

1. You’re still angry, however it’s being steadily replaced by confusion.

2. Hoseok and Margaret stopped dancing a while ago, and they currently stand off to the side trying to make it look like they’re not watching you.

“Your cousin appears to be very concerned about you,” you pant, the dancing finally taking its toll. Jungkook glances sidelong, chuckling darkly.

“That’s probably because she’s not my cousin and I told her she would only have to stay for an hour or so.”

If Jungkook’s hand at your back wasn’t propelling you forward, you’re sure you would’ve stopped dead in your tracks.

“What?”

There’s a twinkle of amusement in those galaxy-filled eyes of his. “She is connected to the royal family; I’ll give her that much. But she’s not my cousin. Just an old friend helping out with a favor.”

You’re not sure if you should laugh or cry.

After a moment, you settle for easing out of Jungkook’s grasp with the excuse to use the restroom. The sound of your heels on the marble floor is drowned out as the live band pick up a lively tune, causing a new rush of people to the dance floor. Somehow you manage to weave your way toward the hallway where you think you remember seeing a restroom sign, unaware of someone hot on your heels.

You’re reaching out for the door when you feel a hand at your elbow. It stops you mid-step, pulling you in an entirely different direction. Gasping, you whirl about to see Hoseok with a grim expression. He doesn’t utter a word, marching the two of you toward a dark corner.

“Hoseok, you scared me!” You whisper-shout, entirely unsure of why you’re whispering in the first place. Perhaps it has something to do with the secluded area he’s led you to, not a single soul in sight.

Once you’ve turned the corner, Hoseok presses your back against the wall, peeking around the corner toward the faint light of the festivities. The sound of trombones and cellos echo around the corridor, making you feel like you’re experiencing a memory rather than living this moment in real time.

When Hoseok turns back to face you, you note the way his hair is mussed. You immediately begin to smooth it out with a frown. He’s usually so meticulous about his hair during events like this.

His eyes soften a bit at your ministrations, but his face is still flushed. “Are you enjoying yourself tonight?”

“I- no…?”

“That’s odd,” Hoseok tilts his head to one side, eyes pinning you to the wall better than his hands. “You certainly look like you are.”

You blink. “I do?”

He lets out a choked laugh, the sound seeming so at odds with his typical demeanor. “Are you that oblivious? The way you’ve been staring at him all night certainly makes it seem like you’re drinking in every moment.”

“S-staring? At who?”

“Jungkook!” You flinch a little when Hoseok raises his voice, but he doesn’t notice as he pinches his eyes shut. “Just…be a little more cautious, ok?”

“I…”

When you’re silent, Hoseok opens his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath, head bobbing to one side in a habit which you’d always found endearing. Now, though, it’s as good as a death sentence as he steps a little closer. Slowly, so slowly you want to scream, his eyes dip down to your lips.

“No,” he mutters to himself, so quietly that you wonder if he doesn’t realize that he’s speaking his thoughts aloud. “Not here.”

Pushing back from the wall, Hoseok steps away and leaves you with a lingering stare before he’s disappearing around the corner. Your ears strain to listen to his retreating steps, but they’re quickly overtaken by the music and chatter of the crowd.

“What just happened?” You whisper to yourself. After a moment, you ease out of the corridor, scurrying toward the bathroom. Flinging open the stall, you stare down at the toilet wondering if you’re about to retch. With the way your stomach is churning, it’s definitely a possibility.

You emerge from the stall a moment later, feeling no better than when you went in. If only you could splash some water on your face, that would probably help clear up your head. However, you’ve still got a few hours ahead of you. The event is nowhere near ending.

The door swings open as you brace yourself against the sink, and you look up in the mirror to see who just walked in behind you. Margaret pauses for a second as she meets your eyes, the door drifting shut at her back.

“I was hoping you were still in here,” she drawls, her posh accent instantly making you want to stand up straight.

“Well, here I am.”

You wince; your voice sounds horrible. Like you’ve been screaming for hours, when you haven’t hardly said a word in the past hour. No, according to Hoseok you’ve been too busy staring.

Margaret chuckles, coming to the sink beside you and running the faucet. “Look, I’ll make this quick. Jungkook has been waiting around for you for long enough, and to be frank I’m sick of hearing about it. If I were you, I’d make up my mind sooner rather than later.”

You’re sick of asking questions, but it appears that that’s all you have for tonight. “What?” You stare at Margaret, who looks almost other-worldly in her deep blue gown. “I just met Jungkook this week, I think you’re mistaken.”

“You just- what?”

It’s nice to see that someone else looks a little confused for once. You thought you were the only one out of the loop, but judging by the look on Margaret’s face, she’s just joined the club.

“Like I said,” you say, leaning one hip against the sink. “I just met Jungkook a few days ago. Hoseok sent him over to assist me in getting everything ready for the gala.”

“But he said…” Margaret shakes her head, focusing in on you once again. “Don’t tell him I said anything to you, alright?”

Before you even have a chance to answer, Margaret is sweeping out the door and leaving you behind in a stunned stupor. Slowly, you turn to face the mirror again. Then, to your eternal horror, a toilet flushes.

Out ambles Scarlett Johansson, who shoots you a grin before promptly washing her hands. “Trouble in paradise?”

You snort, in disbelief. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

It takes a while to find Jungkook, but then again that may be because you aren’t actually looking for him. No, you’re just floating around the venue in a daze when you hear his voice coming from a parlor to your right. Only a couple of dim lamps illuminate the interior, but you don’t bother to get a closer look as you recognize the other voice.

Margaret.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jungkook? You just met her this week? You made it sound like you’ve been pining over her for years-”

“That’s because I have!” Jungkook hisses, the sound slithering out into the hallway. “I have, but she’s always just out of reach…”

“And what, you thought tonight would do the trick? Kook…look, you know I love you, but this is idiocy. She’s practically engaged to Jung Hoseok-”

“Jung Hoseok doesn’t know what he has, he’s never understood! I am the only one that really gets it, Margaret.”

“Yeah, well just because you get it Jungkook doesn’t mean you get her.”

There’s shuffling inside the room, causing you to back away into a dark corner to remain unseen. After a moment, Jungkook’s voice rings out again. This time, it’s a bit ragged, almost letting you taste the desperation in his tone.

“Margaret, please. I just- I just need time. Please, just give me more time.”

A pause, followed by a heavy sigh. “Fine. I hate you.”

“Love you, too.”

You’ve just managed to scamper around the corner when the door open and a little light floods out into the dim hallway. The sound of heels walking in the opposite direction of your hiding spot alerts you to Margaret’s retreat, making you wonder what exactly she has planned in order to allot Jungkook more time.

Once a couple of minutes that feel like eternity pass, you sneak out around the corner. Heart pounding and palms sweaty, you stare up at the ceiling as though you’ll find an answer there.

What are you even doing?

Before the answer comes you’re schooling your features into cool indifference and walking slowly toward the open door. It’s easy enough to spot Jungkook in the parlor, sitting with his head in his hands on the chaise.

You rap on the door, leaning against the doorframe as Jungkook’s head shoots up. The panic at your appearance doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you pretend you haven’t noticed.

“I leave for two seconds and suddenly you’re sulking in an abandoned room?” You chide. “You much be more attached to me than I thought.”

Jungkook’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I was just taking a breather. We danced a lot, didn’t we?”

“True.” You stare at him from across the room, thinking back on Margaret’s words. Jungkook has been waiting around for you for long enough. “Tell me, Jungkook,” you stride inside, taking up the seat opposite him. “How come I never ran into you before this week? You’ve been around Hoseok for nearly three years at this point, haven’t you?”

Jungkook nods, his wide eyes completely disintegrating the dangerous persona he radiated earlier. “Yeah, almost three years. We’ve…crossed paths a few times, I think.”

You frown. “We have?”

“Only a handful of times,” Jungkook quickly reassures you, and the fact that he doesn’t want you to feel bad about not remembering him has you only growing more confused. Didn’t you just hate him half an hour ago? “We never spoke much.”

“Oh.”

Words – none of which amount to full sentences – rattle around your brain as you strive to come up with something more to say. Your brain is breaking down, information overload finally getting the best of you.

“Should we go back?” Jungkook asks in a small voice. Who even is the man, to change demeanors so quickly? “There’s still a lot of dancing left to do.” He adds a wink in at the end, regaining a bit of his swagger with every word.

Suddenly the memory of Hoseok’s conflicted face comes back to you, and you scramble to your feet. “No! Uh, I mean…” you look around the room but find nothing to help you. “I need to be more careful. I’ve been careless enough tonight.”

Jungkook frowns, almost getting on his feet. “What’s wrong? Did…did Hoseok say something to you?” When you don’t respond, Jungkook lets out a dry laugh. “Of course he did. Let me guess, he grabbed you as soon as you left my side, right? Jealous little-”

“Jungkook!” You gasp, stalking out of the room as he follows close behind. “He just wanted to protect our image, that’s all.”

“Ha! Really, that’s all? Sweetheart, has anyone ever told you just how oblivious you can be?”

“Ugh, just when I was starting to hate you less.”

“I’m serious! Sure, he might have said something about being careful, for your reputations. But that’s all just a cover-up! Can’t you see?”

The ballroom is just up ahead, and you make a beeline for it. “I see just fine, thank you very much. However, I wish I could’ve seen just how horrible tonight would be with you! I would have never agreed to that stupid bet!”

Speeding up, Jungkook jogs up in front of you to block your path. You step to your right, which he mimics. To the left, and again, he’s there to stop you.

“Let me through!”

Jungkook glares down at you, a fire blazing in his eyes. It reminds you of a dying star, some sort of supernova exploding in those galaxy irises. “No.”

“No?” You push against his chest, scowling when he doesn’t budge. “Jungkook, I’m too tired to play this game. Move aside.”

“Dance with me.”

He says it with such seriousness that you almost agree. “I already said that I can’t.”

“Please.” Bottom lip disappearing between his teeth, Jungkook’s shoulders slump. “C’mon, we’ll go where no one can see us.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

Chuckling half-heartedly, Jungkook extends a hand. “I have plenty of them, trust me.”

What started as one bad idea has turned into multiple.

Jungkook took you outside to some lonely balcony that wraps around the building. The doors are thrust open, allowing for some light as he takes you in his arms.

The music drifts up to where you sway, and you wonder how Jungkook even found this spot. It’s not far from the ballroom, but certainly not a common spot for people to wander off to. You ask him as much.

“I stumbled upon it when you sent me on all those dumb errands,” he explains, smiling lazily at you.

You chuckle, stifling a gasp as Jungkook spins you around. Once you’re nestled safely in his arms, you grin up at him. “I knew those would come in handy.”

It feels like whiplash, going through so many emotions tonight. You were set on loathing Jungkook for the rest of eternity until he managed to snag one of the chocolate fountains from the kitchens and bring it out here. A platter of strawberries sits off to the side, begging to be dipped and eaten.

“Strawberry?” Jungkook questions quietly, already reaching for one. You hum in confirmation.

A second later Jungkook is dipping it with an absurd amount of chocolate and bringing it to your lips. Your cheeks flush, but you tentatively open your mouth, awaiting the delicious-

“Hey!” You swat at Jungkook when he bops your nose with the strawberry, covering you in chocolate. He laughs merrily, throwing his head back at the stars before focusing on you.

“You look adorable,” he coos. “Here, eat.” Again he prods the strawberry at your lips, catching your hand in his as you go to clean off your nose. “Eat, I’ll get the chocolate off your nose in just a second. Patience.”

You roll your eyes, but allow him to feed the strawberry to you. At the first crunch and flood of sweet flavor, you close your eyes and ball up your fists into his suit jacket.

“Ah, so good.”

When you open your eyes again, Jungkook is frozen before you. His eyes alight on your lips, tongue wetting his own, following the way you lick up the extra chocolate. Then he looks at your nose, a forgotten smile on his face.

“Here,” he mumbles, reaching out to swipe the bit of chocolate from your nose. Without a second’s hesitation he brings it to his lips and devours it.

All is quiet. The music sounds more distant that ever, the dull chatter of tonight’s guests hardly registering in your brain as Jungkook’s eyes never leave your own.

Something stirs deep within you, something that goes much deeper than attraction or desire. Something stronger than the anger you felt earlier sparks in the pit of your chest, making you shiver.

The spot where Jungkook touched your nose tingles, and you wonder for a moment if it somehow looks different now. His touch lingers, the feeling sprouting something entirely new.

Jungkook continues to sway with you, the movement as singular as breathing. When he opens his mouth to whisper something to you, you can’t help but listen to every syllable that falls from his lips.

“I…I want you to feel when you’re with me,” he whispers. “I’m not picky. It can be any emotion. But I’ve seen you, how you are with him.” You flinch at the mention of Hoseok, but Jungkook holds you tighter and pushes through. “You’re empty around him. You play the game easily enough, but there’s nothing behind those words. I want you to feel.”

“Jungkook…”

“I know. I know how I sound. But this is all I have to give you, and I thought that if I could just get you to feel something again, it might be worth it.”

You find yourself drawing closer to him, some sort of unknown gravity pulling you together like a moon caught in his orbit. That’s what you are, aren’t you? Completely helpless, thrown into someone’s orbit and hoping that they notice you. Hasn’t that the way it’s always been, ever since you first laid eyes on Hoseok?

But Jungkook notices you. You know, just from the way his eyes widen as though trying to take more of you in, you know that you’re all he sees. He’s blinded, for some reason or another. Blinded by you, enthralled by your silent suffering and digging ceaselessly for a way out. There’s no doubt in your mind at this moment that he’d carry you far away from here if you just said the word.

How your hands wound up clinging to the nape of his neck, you’re not sure. Just as surprising is the painful tone of your voice as you cry out, "Jungkook, this is no way to live."

His hands are at your back, pressing you closer and closer. "I will live like this for as long as you want, darling.”

“Like what?” Are those tears rushing to your eyes? Too many emotions in such a short amount of time, you can’t keep up. It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything so intense. When was the last time? Perhaps there never was a time such as this. “Hiding away from everyone? Looking over your shoulder every second of every day, wondering when it’ll all fall apart?”

“I can live off of these stolen moments,” Jungkook whispers in awe, gently wiping away your tears. “I’ve been doing that for years. But I don’t know what you want, darling. Tell me what you want.”

“Jungkook,” you wriggle in his grasp, suddenly needing to get away, to breathe, “Jungkook, he’ll find out- we can’t do this. What even is this? I can’t…I don’t even know you!”

He lets you go, allowing you walk toward the edge of the balcony as you greedily gulp down air. After a moment, he speaks up.

“You’re feeling again, aren’t you?”

It’s a silly question. It sounds like he’s addressing a child, but it hits a little too close to home.

Feelings, thoughts, desperation and something deep and exciting courses through you. Yes. Yes, you’re feeling. “Yes. But who says I can’t feel with him?”

Jungkook is silent for a moment. “Who says it can’t be me, instead?” He strides toward you, your heart hammering as he gently cups your cheeks. Stars must cry because his eyes are shiny with tears. Gently, so gently your knees nearly buckle, he caresses your cheek with his thumb.

Smiling sadly, Jungkook whispers, “I love you.” He takes a shaky breath. “I always have. From afar, so I don’t know if that counts in your book. I loved you before we shared a conversation. I loved you the second I first overheard you talking to that unnamed painting on the third floor of the gallery back home. You know the one, don’t you?”

You’re not sure he fully expects an answer as he leans closer, which is all the better as you’re completely unable to provide him with one.

“I love you,” he repeats, wide eyes dropping to your lips. “I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I wake up to you every morning.”

As his lips first graze your own, you remember him.

Countless times, that how often you’ve seen him. Passed him in the hallway of the gallery, trailing behind a busy Hoseok. Offering you a shy, sweet smile which you immediately assumed was meant for someone else.

He seemed to good, too kind for you.

But here he is, lips pressed gently to yours with a promise hanging in the air.

He asks for nothing in return.

When he finally pulls away, you gaze up at him with teary eyes. “Why?”

He knows what you’re asking. Why would he bare his heart and soul to you when he knows you’re promised to another? When you’ve never acknowledged his existence before?

Jungkook shrugs, then leans in for a short peck. He pulls back, allowing you to see the stars in his eyes.

“You deserved to hear it, at least once.”

Two Months Later

You have not heard those three words since, and you wonder if you ever will again. Glancing at Hoseok who peers down into the glass case, you don’t think you will. Hoseok will never love you.

He has you. He always has, you’ve been a constant in his life. What’s there to love about convenience?

He’s saying something to the jeweler, but the words are muffled. That’s how it’s been recently. People talk so much, but you hardly hear a thing. They so rarely say anything that matters.

Jungkook has been gone, still working to replace Hoseok, but off on business trips that you know aren’t necessary. Last you heard, Hoseok had sent him off to Mongolia on a wild goose chase for some long-lost painting. Chances are he wouldn’t be back for months.

Staring at the rings below you, you know that by then, it’ll be too late.

Hoseok is planning on proposing soon. You’re not exactly sure when, but it’ll be within a few weeks now. Perhaps sooner, you can’t tell.

When you leave the jeweler’s, Hoseok’s hand finds yours. He gives it a soft squeeze, but you can’t find quite enough strength to reciprocate the feeling.

He doesn’t comment on it.

In fact, the two of you hardly exchange two words until much later that evening when you dine together. It’s in his parent’s mansion, one of several. This is the one you’re meant to inherit upon getting married. The dining room is a bit too dark for your liking, but under the current circumstances, you bask in the shadows.

Hoseok is late to dinner. An uncommon thing, but you brush it off, quietly greeting him as he takes up his place across from you. When he doesn’t respond, you look up.

He’s already staring at you, but that’s not what sends a chill through your bones.

He’s looking at you with that sniper-like concentration that you only saw once before. It’s terrifying to be on the other side of that gaze; something you had hoped to never encounter.

“What’s wrong?” You mean to sound more caring, but the question comes out flat. Hoseok chews on his lip before releasing it.

He’s kissed you since the gala. He did as soon as the two of you boarded the plane, away from prying eyes.

It had been rushed and desperate, and you’d been shocked into stepping back, breaking the kiss sooner than he intended.

You’d stepped back and bumped into Jungkook, who gently caught you. Hoseok merely smiled warmly and explained that he thought you two were alone. Jungkook didn’t say a word.

Hoseok holds up a letter, unfolding it. “You received a letter today,” he responds. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

You frown, reaching out a hand but he’s too far away. “No, I’ll read it later-”

“My darling, I only just now found a post office that sends international letters. I apologize from the bottom of my heart, I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten you.” Hoseok peeks at you from over the letter, arching an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me you enjoyed pet names. Let’s see what else my apprentice has to say, shall we?”

“Hoseok-”

“Hold that thought,” Hoseok pulls a candle that burns in the center of the table closer to him, hovering the letter just above the flame. “Let’s continue. Something tells me that we’re just getting to the good part.”

“I hope this letter finds you before the wedding, although I can’t be sure. This post office looks a little sketchy, but it’s my best bet. Love, I told you once that I could live off of stolen moments. I can, I do. But I’m tired of begged and borrowed time at your side. Once was not enough.”

“How sweet. I never realized he had such a way with words.” Hoseok sighs wistfully, making you shudder.

“Run away with me, darling. Meet me in Italy, at the gallery. Come up with any excuse you possibly can – just find me. I’ll try to do my best to find a way out of this place, and I’ll wait for you every day. From open to close, I’ll be there. If you don’t come by the end of April, I’ll know that you decided to go forward with the marriage and I wish you all the happiness in the world. Just don’t forget: I love you. Wow, that was beautiful, wasn’t it? Who knew Jungkook was such a poet?”

Hoseok sighs again, meeting your horrified gaze. In one swift movement, he lets the bottom corner of the letter catch the flame. Smoke curls into the air, and you scramble to your feet.

“Hoseok!” You lunge for the letter, knocking over the candle in the process. With a shriek, you watch as the candle drops to the rug and catches fire. Rushing over, you begin to stomp out the flames.

“Let it burn,” Hoseok mumbles, still staring at the burning letter in his hands. “I always wanted to burn this house to the ground. It seems fitting to do so now.”

“You’ve lost your mind!” You shout, turning toward him once the rug is extinguished and snapping the letter from his hands. The flames bite as your fingertips, the letter unsalvageable. Hissing, you throw it into the fireplace.

“You know what?” Hoseok rises to his feet. “I think I will burn it down. Maybe move into one of those cramped apartments in the city. What do you think?”

“Hoseok, you’re not thinking straight. Let’s talk about this.”

His smile is melancholy, but for a moment his eyes clear up and you catch a glimpse of the Hoseok you’ve known for twelve years.

“Don’t you have packing to do?” With a shrug he adds, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“I-“ you stop mid-step. A series of choices flash before your eyes, but all you can see if Hoseok and the out he’s offering you.

Perhaps he wants to get out of this as much as you do.

As you pound up the stairs and begin to throw anything you can find into your bag, you realize that you may never know. You never did get to know the real Hoseok. His thoughts and inner feelings have remained a mystery to you.

When you rush out the door a few minutes later, Hoseok is already leaning against his car. There’s another car parked beside it, and he tosses you the keys. There are no parting words, no longing stares as he marches forward and strikes a match against the side of the house. Without fanfare, he tosses the flame inside the mansion. You watch with unabashed awe as he strides back to his car and hops in. There’s a small bag in the back, certainly not enough to hold his precious belongings.

Hoseok gives you a curt nod, tearing out of the driveway.

You’re gone before the sound of sirens cuts through the air.

The Accademia Gallery is packed today, more so than you’ve ever seen it before. Of course, the main attraction is The David. Tourists crowd around, trying to find the best angle to take a photo, grinning widely.

All of them except for one, who stares up at the sculpture with a keen eye. His dark brown hair is shorter than it was a few months ago when he stood in a similar position.

“Jungkook!”

Somehow, amidst the din of the crowd, he hears you. The stars in his eyes are bright as he turns around, acting as a beacon as you push through the crowd. They gleam and sparkle, rivaled only by the wide smile that overtakes his features. Those eyes, so dangerous yet so lovely. They invite you to get lost in them, to dance under Jungkook’s galaxy.

This time, you think you will.

main masterlist || Help support me? ko-fi

this was a wild ride, lemme tell ya

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @limiworld @jeonyoongi-jimin @buttvi

#bts arranged marriage au #jungkook arranged marriage au #Hoseok arranged marriage au #jungkook x reader #hobi x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #hobi oneshot #hyunglinenetwork #armywriterssupport #armyadvocatesaapi #bts x y/n #jungkook x y/n #hobi x y/n

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mygalfriday · 3 years

Text

pity the man that stands in my way (River/11)

Prompt #2: You. Me. Handcuffs.

The old earth saying about doctors making the worst patients must have originated with her husband. River can cope with his stubborn refusal to take any medication that isn’t grape-flavored or eat anything that isn’t covered in custard. Even the constant whinging is bearable. If those were her only problems, she’d consider herself fortunate. But the Doctor can’t even admit to being sick at all. No matter how many times River orders him to bed – unfortunately not in the fun way – he always ends up sneaking off to the control room the minute she isn’t looking to try convincing the TARDIS to take him somewhere. He can barely stand up but is absolutely confident in his ability to calm a rebellion on Drahva.

In the middle of making him a cup of chamomile tea that she secretly hopes might make him drowsy enough to get some rest – if nothing else, the sedative she plans to mix in should do the trick – River glances up when the TARDIS lights flicker. The Old Girl always finds a way to let her know when the Doctor has escaped again. She sighs, mutters a thank you to the ship, and abandons the kettle on the hob. Marching out of the kitchen, she doesn’t bother checking their bedroom first. She heads right for the control room and sure enough, the Doctor stands at the console, clinging to it for balance as he plots new coordinates.

“Going somewhere?”

He jumps guiltily at the sound of her voice, whirling to face her and pasting on a wide grin. “Ah, there you are. I was just looking for you.” At her baleful stare, he wilts. “Alright, so I was very much not looking for you. I was actively avoiding you, as it happens. Come on, dear. Aren’t you bored?”

“No, my love. I’m not bored.” River crosses her arms over her chest and glares. “As a matter of fact, just this once, I would love to be bored. I would quite literally kill for it. Instead, I’ve spent the last two days chasing my husband around with a syringe.”

His brows lift and he mutters to himself, “Ah, so it wasn’t a dream.” He frowns, attention returning to her. “I’ve got to say, not one of our better honeymoons.”

“It’s not a honeymoon, Doctor,” she sighs, dropping her arms and crossing to his side. “You’re ill.”

He scowls, lips parting and brow furrowing in offense. “I am not! I’m perfectly fine.” Eyes fever-bright and cheeks worryingly flush, he insists, “I’ve never been better.”

River presses the back of her hand to his forehead, ignoring him when he tries to swat her weakly away. “Just as I thought.” She strokes her fingers along his cheekbone, gratified when he sighs and leans briefly into her touch. “You’re burning up. Get back into bed.”

“You always say that,” he mutters, petulant.

She smirks, patting his cheek. “Well, it is my favorite place to see you.”

He sighs. “River, I don’t want to sleep. There’s too much to see and do and-”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” She raises a brow meaningfully, watching understanding dawn in his clouded eyes.

He brightens, that adorably nervous smile curving his lips. “Really?”

“Mmm.” She sways into him, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as she meets his gaze. “You said you feel fine. Care to prove it, Time Lord?”

The Doctor lifts his chin and puffs out his chest, tugging at his bowtie. He looks down at her and despite her certainty that he must feel terrible, the desire in his expression is almost enough to make her forget herself. “Prepare to be impressed, Dr. Song.”

She takes his hand in hers and tugs him out of the control room, risking another remark about her fussing over him by wrapping an arm around his waist. Troublingly, he doesn’t say a word. He leans his weight into her as though she might not notice and even with her guiding him, he stumbles more than once. She wonders briefly how he’d made it from their bedroom to the control room in the first place. What had he done – crawled there? Even his breathing is a bit off, a slight rasp after every inhale that worries her. She doesn’t dare let on.

The moment they cross the threshold into their bedroom, River turns and takes his face in her hands, kissing him deeply. The Doctor makes a soft, startled noise against her lips before his mouth opens and his tongue brushes hers. His hands grip her hips as they stumble toward the bed and he feels hot against her, his body temperature higher than usual. His touch is almost searing even over her clothes.

Divesting him quickly of his tweed and bowtie, River nips sharply at his bottom lip before nudging him onto the bed. She watches him fall back onto the pillows, looking weak and tired. His mouth is red and swollen from her kisses and his hair is rumpled from her fingers. For a moment, she considers climbing on top of him and giving him exactly what he wants – he’d still be resting if she’s on top, wouldn’t he?

But no. No matter how tempting he looks right now, he’s very ill. He needs to sit still and drink his tea and take his medicine and bloody well sleep. There will be plenty of time to ravish him when he’s feeling better. River likes him best when he’s a full participant anyway.

His eyes are dark and interested as he watches her strip out of her clothes; he licks his lips at every piece of clothing that drops to the floor. When she has nothing but her knickers left to remove, River joins him on the bed. She crawls up the length of his body and straddles his narrow waist, leaning in to capture his mouth in a kiss. The Doctor melts under her, his limbs going loose and deliciously pliable. It takes no effort at all to pin his arms above his head and secure them to the bedpost.

The Doctor goes still at the sound of the lock clicking into place, his mouth slipping from hers as he mutters, “Why do you always have handcuffs?”

River smirks, dropping the seduction act as she sits up and slides out of bed. Reaching for her clothes piled neatly on the floor, she tugs on her shirt and says, “Maybe now you’ll actually get some rest.”

He growls under his breath, watching her slip back into her trousers. “River, uncuff me right now.”

“Sorry, my love,” she says, shrugging unapologetically. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll release you when you can be trusted to stay put.” She tilts her head, nose scrunching as she admits, “Well, I suppose I should say when you’re well enough that I won’t care you can’t be trusted.”

“Oi!” He pouts, tugging at the cuffs. “I’m very trustworthy. Ish. I know loads of secrets I’ve never told you.”

“I’m sure that’s true, sweetie.” She pats his knee. “I’m going to fetch your tea. Would you like something to read while you wait?”

The Doctor twitches irritably. “How would I turn the pages?”

“Good point.” She taps her chin thoughtfully, listening to the sound of the cuffs clanking against the bedpost as he tries unsuccessfully to free himself. “Then might I suggest you lie there and think about how lucky you are to have me?”

He stops struggling long enough to offer her a doe-eyed glance. “But I do that all the time.”

“Nice try.” River pinches his thigh, smirking when he yelps. “I’m still not letting you out.”

He huffs. “River-”

She levels him with her sternest look – the one that wins wars and terrifies her prison guards; the one that says I’ve killed a man before and I’m happy to do it again. “The more you complain, the longer I’ll leave you here.”

Properly cowed, the Doctor snaps his mouth shut and settles for a silent glare.

“Good boy.” River leans in and presses a kiss to his fever-warm cheek. “Back soon, sweetie. What is it you always say to your companions?” She tips her head to the side, grinning down at him in victory. “Oh yes. Don’t wander off.”

#drfic #river song #eleventh doctor #river x eleven #riverdoctorpromptweek #my fic

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yannowhatigiveup · 3 years

Text

My One And Only - Chapter 11

Previous | Next

We’re starting to catch up now! But be warned this is also kinda a short chapter so.....sad. I haven’t made much progress in writing the current chapter but I’m going to soon. I had this idea for a one shot in my head for so long that I’m gonna write it down.

"Side effects?" Now he was getting worried.

"The side effects only a true miraculous holder could get" Plagg mumbled hesitantly.

—————————————————————

Adrien blinked in confusion. "What do you mean by 'true miraculous holders'?"

Plagg sighed. "You know how the ladybug and black cat miraculous are the most powerful, right?" Adrien nodded. "And that they both have to be in use at the same time to keep the balance?" Adrien nodded again. "Well since those two are the most powerful miraculous, they can only be used by those capable and those who are true owners have their power boosted. But the power boosting only works if both users are true holders"

"Ok that makes sense, what about the 'side effect' part?" Adrien asked, sadly.

"Since the miraculous are very powerful, sometimes the power is too much to contain in the powered miraculous and therefore seep into the mortal's body causing...inhuman abilities. In Ladybug's case, well as what Tikki has told me, she can now heal plants and wounds" Adrien let out a small gasp of surprise and admiration. "Though these powers can become much greater in her civilian form, even more so when using the miraculous. Because of this, Tikki believes that you might not be the true owner."

"So I can't use the black cat miraculous anymore?" Adrien mumbled, playing with the ring on his finger while there was a lump in his throat.

"Well you still can but you won't be able to increase your powers, actually.... When I think about it, it could be dangerous for both you and Ladybug. Since everything needs to be in balance, Ladybug could get herself seriously injured since we don't know who the real miraculous holder is"

Adrien was surprised at how serious his kwami was. Then he nodded. "I understand, I'm no longer able to be Chat Noir" he sighed and was surprised when Plagg came over and hugged his cheek. Only then did he realise that he was crying. He quickly wiped his tears and focused on looking on the bright side. "Thanks Plagg for being my kwami"

"Wait wait wait" Plagg put his tiny hands up. "Who says you're getting rid of me right now?"

"Wait so I can keep being Chat Noir for a while longer?" Plagg simply nodded.

"Just tell Ladybug whenever you're ready and she'll deal with it. I want some Camembert now"

Adrien laughed and gave Plagg some Camembert then went back to staring at the night sky. 'It's 7 pm' he thought to himself. 'I want to make Ladybug proud, If that means giving up the miraculous then so be it'. He glanced at an image of his father on his computer, one of the magazines talking about the new designs being released. 'Ladybug suspected father at one point. If he was Hawkmoth, how would I react? Ladybug is much better at concealing than me. She'll be able to deal with it, I can't' Adrien sighed and began to read through his fan mail again, thinking of both Kagami and Marinette only to have his thoughts interrupted when a message appeared on his phone. Then remembered, he asked if he should ask one of his crushes on a date. He scrambled to his phone and pressed on the notification to see what Alya had said.

Reportergrill: I think you should ask Kagami out *insert lenny face here*

Me: Oh ok!

He smiled at his friend's advice and then opened his conversation with Kagami to send a message.

~~~

It's Thursday, the day before Friday, two days until the weekend. Chloe was rummaging through her locker, she was mainly buying herself more time. See, she wanted to apologize properly to Mari. 'Can I even call her that? Only her friends can'. She had prepared a folder, inside was everything belonging to Marinette that Chloe had damaged. Chloe took a deep breath and went out of the locker room to see if Marinette was nearby, the bluenette was walking towards the locker room. 'Here goes nothing' "Hey M-Marinette can I t-talk to you?" The blonde stammered.

Marinette blinked in surprise before smiling. "Sure Chloe, what do you want to talk about?"

Chloe then led her to her locker and turned to face her. "Since Sabrina got lured in by Lila I..." Chloe struggled to find the words and just decided to take the folder out of her locker. Marinette looked curiously at it before Chloe handed it to her. "Here's everything that I have ever damaged and I hope that...." she took a deep breath. "You could...forgive me" Chloe closed her eyes, waiting in fear for Marinette's answer, only to be tackled by a hug.

"Thank you Chloe, this means so much to me" Marinette then pulled away from the hug to look at Chloe. "Friends?"

Chloe let out a sigh of relief and hugged Marinette again. "Friends".

They both went to where Alya and Nino were standing. Alya smiled while waving before noticing Chloe was with Marinette. She didn't glare at the blonde, instead she shot Marinette a confused look. "Chloe apologized so I'm giving her a second chance" Marinette stated simply. Alya then nodded and gave Chloe a warm smile.

"Well you're our friend now" Chloe widened her eyes in surprise and then smiled brightly, mouthing a 'thank you'. "Hmmm what should your nickname be?"

"She gives off Queenie vibes" Nino said, giving his idea for a nickname.

Marinette and Alya laughed and soon Chloe joined in. "I hope you don't mind if I call you 'Mare-Bare', Marinette?"

"I don't mind at all! I quite like it"

Chloe nodded, 'So this is what it's like to be in a friend group, I like it'.

~~~

Alya, Marinette, Chloe and Nino were all in Chloe's room, dressing Kagami up. When Kagami had seen the message from Adrien, she immediately went to the friend group for advise. "It's a casual date he said, he'll be taking me to the Louvre" she said. She was surprised when Chloe had joined them and was skeptical at first but after observing her for a while, Kagami concluded that Chloe was genuine with her apology.

After a few tries, the group finally agreed on an outfit for Kagami. She wore black leggings and an over side red hoodie, the exact same shade as her fencing gear. And, as a token of good luck, Mari gave Kagami one of her hair pins, a rose decal. It was an MDC original and Kagami had managed to figure that out. The thing is, three weeks ago she saw Marinette design something very similar to this. "Mari-hime, are you MDC?"

Marinette then began to sweat. "Uhmm...wait what does the 'hime' mean? I've heard of chan, kun, san, sensei and senpai but never 'hime'"

"Well it's usually used to address a princess but it's used for any beautiful woman, like you"

"Awww thank you Gami" Marinette was blushed at the compliment.

"But are you MDC?"

Marinette sighed, 'Can't weasel my way out of this one'. "Uhhh m-maybe?" She sighed once more. "Yes I am"

"Wow!"

"That's great dudette!"

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? This is so cool!"

"Well my mother was impressed by your work so I'm not that surprised"

A chorus of supportive comments showered over her. "Thanks guys but we're helping Gami prepare for her date, right?" She smirked at the blush of the fencer's face. Adrien then called Kagami's phone to tell her that he was there in the car, waiting for her.

~~~

It's finally Friday, Marinette had thought of all the great things that happened yesterday. She made a new friend which just so happens to be Chloe, Kagami went on a date with Adrien, Marinette revealed that she was MDC, she also recorded the first verse in the song after Kagami left. She smiled remembering their praise. She became grateful for all her friends, as well as Uncle Jagged, Penny and Clara Nightingale who wanted to listen listen to Marinette's voice.

The bluenette got changed into a long-sleeved, pastel pink, high-necked cropped jumper with a high-waisted baby blue plaid skirt. She looked in the mirror and felt proud about herself.

"You look very nice Marinette!" Tikki complimented while finishing up her cookie.

"Thanks Tikki"

Marinette then looked for something to put in her hair. She decided to put her hair into a ponytail tied with a long, dark red, silk ribbon. She finished her outfit and she realised she had plenty of time left before school started. Marinette noticed a notification for a message, rolling her eyes as she saw who it was from, Lila. Marinette took a deep breath before going to read it. 'It can't be that bad, right?'

Wrong.

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlit-dreaming, @icerosecrystal, @lolieg, @kashlyn, @mochegato, @eggadoodle

#daminette #maribat #maridami #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #ml x dc #damianette

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thefinalcinderella · 3 years

Text

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 10 - Shooting Star (Part 1)

We finally made it...we’re in the endgame now...

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. My Grandfather’s Clock is a popular song written by Henry Clay Work in 1876. The 2002 version by Ken Hirai was especially popular in Japan

Previous | Next

January 3rd, 5 a.m.

Yuki was in a dimly lit room in the Ashihara Ryokan. He changed into his Kansei University uniform and jersey and picked up his bench coat.

Two hours had already passed since Yuki woke up. After breakfast and a bath courtesy of the ryokan that took place at a time that could be better called late night, Yuki returned to the room where he had spent the night once the food in his stomach digested properly.

It was a night where he wasn’t sure if he had slept or not. However, his mind was clear and lucid. Excitement and tension became sharp blades that pared his body, and he felt somewhat light.

My energy is high, Yuki thought. He had felt the same way when he passed the bar exam. He read the questions for the essay exam and wrote his answer. It was almost funny how the meaning of the questions soaked into his brain, and before he could even think about how to answer them, the answer sheet was filled with words; it was just like automatic writing. He had never been able to output so smoothly what had been inputted into him until that moment, as though his consciousness had become clear and his sixth sense was working.

He knew that the same moment of elation and focus was about to visit his body and mind.

The return leg of the Hakone Ekiden started at 8 a.m. Yuki would slowly warm up over the next three hours, in order to build up his energy levels. It was Yuki’s method to relax and relieve his nervousness for two hours, and then concentrate on warming up for the remaining hour. Ever since the time when he was confronting his bar exam, Yuki preferred to increase the intensity of his concentration at this pace.

The six-mat guest room was completely occupied by the three futons laid out on the floor. Shindou, wearing his mask, was breathing faintly in his sleep. Yuki gently put his hand on his forehead and found it was still a little hot. The landlord was grinding his teeth as he slept soundly.

Yuki lightly folded his futon and put it in a corner so as to not wake them. Standing by the window, he quietly pulled back the curtains: the cozy garden of the ryokan was covered with a light dusting of snow, and ashy snowflakes continued to fall from the dark sky.

Yuki had never been skiing before. He didn’t understand going to the trouble of sticking boards to your feet in a cold place in a cold season. He thought it would be better to spend that time on one’s studies, and more than that, living with a single mother, they had no money to spend on fun.

Can I run down a steep, snow-covered slope? I can’t say I don’t want to run in the sixth leg at this point. Should I have at least experienced skiing if it’s like this?

The window was immediately fogged up by Yuki’s breath. The room was slightly warm from Yuki, Shindou and the landlord's combined body heat.

It’s not just me, Yuki reminded himself. In the past few years, there has never been snow on the roads of Hakone at New Year’s. Most of the runners—no, maybe all of them—have never gone down the mountain roads of Hakone covered in snow. Everyone lacks experience. I can run. I can run.

Chanting that in his mind as though to convince himself, Yuki picked up Kansei’s sash from the alcove. It seemed to still be damp from absorbing the sweat of the five people who had run in the outbound leg.

After carefully folding the sash and putting it in his jersey pocket, Yuki quietly left the guest room.

He walked through the corridor to the front door and saw the ryokan’s proprietress holding a newspaper.

“Oh, you’ve already changed?”

“Yes. I’ll be warming up from now on.”

“Outside?” Looking at the still-dark front of the building, the proprietress furrowed her brow in concern. “It’s minus five degrees right now.”

Yuki had planned to go outside, but he quickly changed his mind. He would have to wait until the temperature rose a little, or his muscles would stiffen up from the cold.

“May I borrow this space?”

He pointed at the empty lobby, and the proprietress graciously said, “By all means.

“Do you want to read the paper? I asked them to deliver it earlier today.”

While reading the newspaper, Yuki sat down on the floor of the lobby and began to stretch. He exhaled and began to relax his muscles and joints.

The paper had a big spread on the outbound leg of the Hakone Ekiden. Bousou University won the outbound leg by a narrow margin. It was a close race where it was impossible to tell if Rikudou University would make a comeback in the return leg, or which school would take the overall victory.

There was also a mention of Kansei under the headline “A Challenge with Only Ten People”. There was a photo of Shindou, unsteady and desperately trying to run on the mountain roads. Yuki opened his legs and brought his upper body down while reading the article.

“With only ten members, Kansei University unexpectedly put on the brakes in the fifth leg. They dropped down drastically in the rankings and ended the outbound leg in eighteenth place. However, with ace runners such as Kurahara, a freshman, and Kiyose, a fourth-year, in the return leg, there are still plenty of opportunities for a comeback. All eyes will be on the development of this small team’s great challenge.”

At the end of the article, there was a signature (布). It’s Nunoda-san, Yuki thought. The reporter Nunoda, who had come to Lake Shirakaba during summer vacation, had continued to keep an eye on Kansei.

There are still more than enough opportunities. We believe that, but it’s reassuring to have a third party say so as well. Yuki put the newspaper on the rack in the lobby and silently worked on stretching.

It was 6 when Shindou appeared in the lobby. He was wearing Musa’s bench coat and a mask. “Good morning,” he said in a hoarse voice, and pushed on Yuki’s back to help him stretch.

“You should be sleeping.”

“I asked Musa to give me a wake-up call because I knew you would be thoughtful like that.” Shindou sat down next to Yuki. “It’s snowing.”

“Yeah.”

The two watched the fluttering snow through the lobby window.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. What about you?”

“I’m feeling much better.”

Yuki began doing sit-ups. Shindou lightly held his ankles still.

“To tell you the truth,” Yuki murmured, “I’m getting uncomfortably nervous. I want to run away, if I could.”

“I was the same way,” Shindou laughed under his mask. “Why don’t you try listening to some music? I took it from your luggage without asking.”

Yuki took the iPod Shindou gave him and put the earphones in his ears. He listened to his favorite songs for a while, but today, the world of sound was no comfort to Yuki.

“It’s no use.” Yuki tore out his earphones. “When I’m running, it feels like music I don’t like is playing through my head incoherently and endlessly. And it’s music that you can’t even get into! Like My Grandfather’s Clock (1) and stuff like that!”

“You hate it?”

“I don’t like irritating things.”

“I think it’s a good song, though,” Shindou said, and Yuki stood up with a “hmph.” Looking up at Yuki, who was rotating his ankles, Shindou made a suggestion.

“No matter what song plays in your head, you can always arrange it so it’s up-tempo.”

“Shindou, you’re amazing.” Yuki was deeply impressed. “I’m filled with worries. All I can think about are bad things like, what if I fall down the slope, or what if my shoelaces get torn off.”

“Yuki-senpai, you can even aim for the sectional prize.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’ve always accomplished what you said you would do. Whether it’s the bar exam or the Hakone Ekiden, you said you’ll do it, and you did.” Only Shindou’s eyes were smiling. “So say it this time too. That you’re aiming for the sectional prize.”

As though pushed by Shindou’s quiet force, Yuki said, “I am.”

“Yes, then it’s fine now. You will definitely run a good time.”

Yuki looked down at Shindou, who was nodding in satisfaction, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“I know how useless I was yesterday,” Yuki said. “I knew you were experiencing this pressure before the race, but I couldn’t support you like this.”

“No matter how much support I get, in the end, I’m the only one who can bounce back from the pressure.” Shindou also stood and prompted Yuki. “Let’s jog.” The two put on their shoes at the door and went outside. There was no sign of the sunrise anywhere, but birds were singing in the mountains. The fine snow felt dry against their cheeks.

“But yesterday, you stayed by my side until the very last moment before I started running, Yuki-senpai. That gave me a lot of strength.” Shindou pulled down his mask and breathed in the cold air. “That’s why, I’ll stay with you today. I’ll stay with you until you start.”

Yuki didn’t have any words to respond. He was simply happy, and watched Shindou put his mask back on.

“We’ll freeze if we stay in one spot. Let’s run.”

“By the way, how’s the landlord?”

“He said he’s going to take a morning bath.”

“He’s in a sightseeing mood, that person.”

“His nighttime teeth grinding was very loud, wasn’t it?”

They chatted about trifling things as they jogged, and Yuki and Shindou's white breaths flowed shakily along the dark, snowy lakeside path.

---

Kakeru was feeling restless.

Kiyose was acting strange. When Kakeru invited him to go jogging after breakfast, he refused, saying, “Go ahead. I’ve got a lot of calls to make.”

It’s definitely strange that Haiji-san didn’t do his morning jog. He didn’t seem to sleep well last night either. I wonder if his leg hurts.

After running around Yokohama Station for about thirty minutes, Kakeru decided to go back to the hotel. He could still warm up at the relay station. He had never cut a jog short before, no matter how sick he was, but right now he was worried about Kiyose. He wondered if he was planning on pushing himself too hard. As if spurred on by a bad premonition, Kakeru ran back to the hotel.

In the lobby of the small business hotel, Jouji was opening a sports newspaper while watching the weather forecast on TV. Noticing Kakeru running across the lobby and pushing the button for the elevator, he came up to him and said, “You’re early.

“Your jogging time was unusually short today.”

“Where’s Haiji-san?”

“I think he’s in his room. Prince-san and Hana-chan are organizing their luggage together. I was chased away. I can sense that he’s trying to keep me away from Hana-chan.” Jouji pouted in dissatisfaction, but Kakeru wasn’t listening anymore. He rode the elevator to the fifth floor. “What’s going on?” Jouji asked as he followed him.

Kansei had three rooms: Kakeru and Kiyose’s room was at the far end of the corridor, Jouji and Prince’s was next to theirs, and Hanako’s room was near the elevator.

After exiting the elevator, Kakeru passed a man in the hallway. He was in his late thirties and carrying a large black bag in his hand. Thinking that it looked like a house call bag, Kakeru turned around with a start. The doors to the elevator the man got into were just about to close.

That wasn’t a guest just now. That was a doctor. Kakeru had a hunch. He must be the doctor who came to examine Haiji-san’s leg.

“Haiji-san!”

Kiyose was sitting by the window near the two beds. He looked up in surprise at Kakeru’s menacing attitude, and Kakeru sprang at him.

“Let me see your leg, let me see it!”

Kiyose fell down onto the bed, pushed by the momentum. Kakeru didn’t care and tried to pull up the cuff of Kiyose’s track pants.

“Just calm down, Kakeru! I’ll explain!”

Jouji was standing in the doorway of their room, watching in amazement as Kakeru and Kiyose grappled with each other. Noticing the commotion, Prince and Hanako came out of the room next door.

When Hanako asked, “What’s this all about?” Jouji tilted his head to the side.

“Uh, I have no idea.”

Kiyose finally pulled Kakeru off of him and beckoned everyone in the doorway to come in. The group that had stayed in Yokohama gathered in the room and sat down on the beds and chairs of their choice.

“Haiji-san, there was a doctor in this room a while ago, wasn’t there?” Kakeru sat on the bed and questioned Kiyose.

“There was,” Kiyose admitted as though he could see that there was no way out of this. “It was the doctor who always examines me. I asked him to make a house call and he gave me some painkillers.”

“The leg you said you injured—did it not heal?” Prince asked in shock. Jouji and Hanako had never even heard that Kiyose was injured, and they looked at each other in disbelief.

“What are you going to do?” It was all Kakeru could do not to let his voice tremble.

“Of course I’m running.”

“Are you okay with being so reckless?”

“If I’m not going to be reckless now, then when?”

“If…” Kakeru hesitated to put it into words. He was afraid that if he said it aloud, it would become reality.

“What if you can’t run for the rest of your life because of your recklessness today?”

He saw Jouji gasp and Prince hanging his head. Hanako didn’t move, only watching the course of Kiyose and Kakeru’s exchange.

Kakeru stared fixedly at Kiyose and waited for a response.

“It would be very painful,” Kiyose’s voice was quiet, and Kakeru knew that he had been thinking about that for a long time already. “But I won’t regret it.”

There’s no stopping him, Kakeru thought. If he were in Kiyose’s position, he would still choose to run.

Kakeru made up his mind. If that’s the case, then there’s only one thing I can do: to put as little burden on Haiji-san as possible, I should gain as much time as I can in the ninth leg.

The silence that enveloped the room was broken by Kiyose's phone ringing. He hung up after a short conversation.

“That was Shindou. The final entries were announced at Lake Ashi. Just as expected, Rikudou put Fujioka in the ninth leg.”

Jouji looked at Kakeru with both anticipation and worry in his eyes. “Okay,” Kakeru murmured. Blood was rushing through his body, and his heart was beating with joy and a fighting spirit; the day had come when they could finally compete in the same place. At the TSU meet in spring, he had only chased Fujioka’s back, but it was finally time to test how fast and strong he had become since then.

“Kakeru, don’t lose the race,” Kiyose said. Kakeru nodded determinedly.

It was past 7 in the morning.

They had to leave the hotel now. From now on, they were to split up: Kakeru and Jouji were going to the Totsuka relay station; Kiyose and Prince were going to the Tsurumi relay station; Hanako was going to Otemachi, the finish line.

“Are you okay with Jouji attending you? I can go with you, if you’d like,” Prince asked Kakeru, but he didn’t understand the intention of his question at all.

“Why? It’s fine as we planned.”

Even though his generous consideration was turned down, Prince didn’t seem offended at all, instead laughing and shaking his head lightly as though to say, “Good grief.”

When they reached the Yokohama Station premises, Kiyose said to Kakeru, “About what you said earlier.

“The situation isn’t as serious as you think. The painkillers are working, and I’m not beyond recovery.”

“Is that really true?”

“Have I ever lied?”

“Quite a lot.”

Kiyose frowned at the sky for a few moments, seemingly recalling his past acts.

“Don’t worry. I’m telling the truth this time,” he smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing you run at Tsurumi.”

He felt like he wanted to say something to Kiyose—his gratitude, worry, and determination. But they were feelings that would never take shape no matter how many words he spent on them, so Kakeru only said, “I’ll hand you the sash not a second late.”

The group raised their hands a little to say goodbye, and then headed up the stairs to the platform to go to their respective places.

---

8 a.m.

As the starting gun sounded from Lake Ashi, the Bousou runner started running first. One minute and thirty-nine seconds later, the Rikudou runner followed.

One after another, the runners from each school left Lake Ashi with their sashes, with a time difference reflecting the times they had finished at Lake Ashi in the outbound leg. This time, the return leg of the Hakone Ekiden was beginning, heading for Otemachi, Tokyo.

Schools with more than ten minutes of difference from the outbound leg leader, Bousou, would start together ten minutes after Bousou began the return leg. In this year’s race, five schools had to start at the same time: the federation selected team, Eurasia University, Kansei University, Tokyo Gakuin University, and Shinsei University.

Kansei had a time difference of eleven minutes and fifty-three seconds with Bousou. Even though they would start the race simultaneously after ten minutes, the extra one minute and fifty-three seconds would not be discarded and would be automatically added to their overall time. Because of the simultaneous start, the visible order in which the runners were running and their orders by their times might differ from each other for the return leg.

In the return leg, especially for lower ranked teams, the competitors must not only look at the race’s development before their eyes, but also keep in mind the complicated time calculation, and try to fight calmly to raise their actual rankings as much as possible.

I’m made for this, Yuki thought. Rather than competing against others, he preferred to think about how to achieve his goals by developing countermeasures and how to show off his abilities while doing that. The sixth leg of the Hakone Ekiden, the mountain descent, suited his personality; he didn’t have to be misled by the apparent rankings, he just had to use his skills to run down the winding slope against the invisible enemy called time.

Just as he had declared, Shindou stayed by Yuki’s side the entire time before his departure. He helped him stretch, massaged his calves to prevent them from stiffening up in the cold, and conversed with him casually. Thanks to him, Yuki was able to calm his mind and focus on the race.

When the time came to set off, Yuki took off his bench coat and left it with Shindou. The temperature at Lake Ashi was minus three degrees Celsius. There was still powder snow in the air. The road surface was covered in snow and the ruts were frozen. Even with a long-sleeved T-shirt under his uniform, there was no way to prevent the cold from pressing down on him. The lack of wind was the only saving grace.

Jounan Bunka University was the last team that was able to start according to its time difference with Bousou. After being called by the staff member, the teams hurriedly lined up at the start line to start simultaneously.

Yuki looked at the crowd of people next to him. Shindou was almost swallowed up by the waves of spectators, but he was watching Yuki firmly.

“We’ll meet at Otemachi,” Yuki said. It might not have reached him, having gotten lost in the cheers, but Shindou was nodding.

Ten seconds after Jounan Bunka, the runners from the five teams started running at the same time on cue. Yuki’s glasses immediately fogged up from his body heat, but he soon regained his clear vision thanks to the cold wind blowing.

The road surface was covered with a thin layer of snow, making it nerve-wracking to even walk on flat surfaces, but running on it, there was no time to check your footing. Every step he took, the sherbet-like snowflakes bounced off his legs. Even the lightest shoes with the latest features couldn’t prevent the soles from slipping slightly as they kicked the surface.

The first four kilometers from the lakeside road to the highest point of Route 1 were mostly uphill. Of the five teams that had started at the same time, Eurasia was in front and Yuki didn’t hesitate to follow him. When he checked his watch at the first kilometer, his pace was less than three minutes and twenty seconds.

On the way up, he was a little too fast considering the poor road conditions. But if he didn’t go all out here, then there was no way Kansei would be able to improve their ranking in the return leg. Besides, Yuki thought, among the runners assigned to the sixth leg, the Rikudou runner was the only one who has a record of twenty-eight minutes for the ten-thousand meter. In other words, the runners in the sixth leg don’t put much emphasis on speed.

From the highest point to the town of Hakone-Yumoto, almost the entire sixth leg was downhill. Even if your time on flat surfaces wasn’t good, you could still go fast on the downhill if you gathered momentum. What was important was the dexterity to change your running style depending on the ups and downs, a sense of physical balance, and the boldness to run downhill without fear.

Even if he entered the first uphill slope at a somewhat fast pace, he would be able to conserve enough stamina. With this judgement, Yuki didn’t recoil.

They left the lakeside and headed up the path towards the mountains. There was one small up-and-down right before the highest point. As they approached the first descent, Yuki looked at his watch again. Kiyose had instructed him to run at a pace of three minutes and twenty seconds per kilometer on the way up, but he was now going at a pace of three minutes and fifteen seconds per kilometer.

I can do it. He was convinced. His body felt light and he was able to asjust his footwork according to the ups and downs without even thinking about it.

Tokyo Gakuin University and Shinsei University were already about to be shaken off from the lower-ranked group, which was now composed of six schools as it had absorbed Jounan Bunka, who had departed ahead of them.

All Yuki could think about was overtaking as many schools as possible in front of him. The cold didn’t bother him anymore. He climbed to the highest point in one go.

The downhill slope, which stretched for nearly fifteen kilometers, awaited him, meandering on and on beyond the falling snow.

---

“Isn’t he going too fast?”

Watching the portable TV, Kakeru arrived at the Totsuka relay station with Jouji. The screen showed Yuki and the others passing in front of the main gate of the Flower Center, the five-kilometer marker.

“But I heard that the normal pace for the sixth leg is five kilometers in around thirteen minutes?” Jouji said in his usual carefree way, but it didn’t ease Kakeru’s concerns. It was the pace after you got into the descent in earnest—it was hard even for a runner himself to hold back his speed once he was completely going downhill. Once your body got into the rhythm of the descent, it wasn’t impossible to run down a hundred meters in fifteen seconds. In the sixth leg, despite the long distance of 20.7 kilometers, the speed in some places was comparable to that of a short distance run.

However, even though the first five kilometers were uphill and the road conditions weren’t good, he was running in sixteen minutes. Even with Yuki’s running ability, it seemed to Kakeru that this was clearly an excessive pace.

“I’ll call Haiji-san.”

Kakeru took out his phone from his jacket pocket.

“You worry too much,” Jouji said, shrugging a little.

“Yes, this is Kiyose.” The phone immediately relayed Kiyose’s voice along with the bustle from outside. It seemed that he had already arrived at the Tsurumi relay station.

“Are you listening to the radio?”

“Prince’s phone has a TV function. He also found out about it just now. We’re watching it. It’s amazing what you can do with a cell phone these days.”

“Yes. No, not about that…” Prince’s slow pace and Kiyose’s hopelessness with technology made Kakeru feel dizzy. “Isn’t Yuki-senpai running a little too fast?”

“Yeah. I would call the landlord, but there’s no point—the coach cars don’t stay close to the runners on the mountain roads of Hakone.”

“What should we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do. The rest is the descent. It would be foolish to slow down now, so we can only pray that Yuki doesn’t slip and fall,” Kiyose let out a light laugh, as though he had gotten over all his worries. “Anyways Kakeru, make sure to jog and warm up properly. I have to get in touch with Nico-chan-senpai and King now, so we’ll talk later.”

The call ended, and Kakeru let out a sigh.

“I told you it’s fine,” Jouji took the phone from Kakeru. “You need to trust us a little more.”

“Trust, huh,” Kakeru began to rotate his ankles and prepare for a jog. “Come to think of it, Katsuta-san said that too.”

“H-Hana-chan?” Jouji immediately turned red. “Why are you bringing up Hana-chan?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Are you doing that on purpose or are you really that airheaded?” Growing impatient with Kakeru’s pointless reply, Jouji turned to him again. “Hey, you know, I like Hana-chan.”

“I know.”

“You know!? How?”

“Nico-chan-senpai said it on the phone yesterday.”

Even when we’re apart from each other, we can still be overheard just as well as when we’re in Chikusei-sou, Jouji grumbled.

“What about you, Kakeru?” He asked the question he wanted to ask the most: “Is it okay if I confess to Hana-chan?”

Why do you need to check with me for that? It seems that the residents of Chikusei-sou are convinced that I like Katsuta-san. Kakeru, pondering up to that point, felt a jolt to his heart like the feeling of falling during the first stage of sleep.

I like Katsuta-san.

It was partly because he was so dense that he couldn’t even laugh at the twins, but it was a feeling that had been in his heart so quietly and naturally that he hadn’t been aware of it until now.

Kakeru had always kept Hanako’s figure carefully in his memory. The color of her scarf on the night they walked together. The profile of her face when she watched them train under the sky where summer clouds were rising. The first time he saw her, her thin back as she pedalled her bike through the shopping district.

Kakeru was looking at Hanako. And all that time, her eyes and thoughts were solely on the twins.

“Now I get it.”

Kakeru was shocked at his feelings that had finally become clear.

“…What are you talking about?” Jouji nervously asked, seemingly thinking that it was creepy how he had suddenly zoned and then nodded to himself.

“No,” Kakeru shook his head. “I think you should just confess to her.”

It wasn’t an act of bravado, but a feeling of clarity. He was sure that Hanako would be happy to know Jouji’s feelings. Perhaps she would be equally pleased with a confession from Jouta, and there might be a quarrel there. But that wasn’t Kakeru’s business.

This wasn’t a competition. Hanako’s heart belonged to her. Jouji’s heart belonged to him as well. It was the same as how Kakeru’s heart only belonged to him. It was a domain that was free from all standards and measures, something no one could steal or bend.

It was satisfying to know that there was a gentle but strong feeling within him that had nothing to do with speed or victory or defeat. Hanako, who taught him those feelings, seemed more and more important to him. Kakeru would be happy if her love was realized.

Also, I’m used to long-distance running. I’m good at patiently waiting for an opportunity. Even if Hanako has feelings for the twins right now, you can’t state definitively that it’ll be forever.

“I see, I guess it’s better to tell her. Uwah, what should I do, I’m so nervous.”

Jouji was determined to confess his feelings to Hanako without any hesitation, not realizing that Kakeru, who was patient when it came to the important things, was chewing on his first realization of love like a ruminating cow.

---

Yuki was smoothly descending the mountain.

In the beginning, he tried to run on the ruts because he was afraid of slipping on the frozen snow, but then he couldn’t steer a good course through the turns. Too much concern about slipping would cause him to put pressure on his muscles, which would make it all come to nothing. In the end, Yuki decided to run and take the course as usual.

Running downhill is fun, Yuki thought. To be able to feel such acceleration with my own body. His speed was so fast that even the soft snowflakes hitting his face from the front hurt like pebbles. While balancing with his whole body, he followed the slope as it led him forward. His fear of falling down didn’t cross his mind at all in the face of the pleasure of speed.

The front of Kowakien was the ten-kilometer point of the sixth leg. It was also a TV relay point. Even though the weather was bad and it was early in the morning, there were spectators along the roadside cheering for them. Following the Eurasia runner, Yuki turned to the right, and he could hear the watery footsteps of the Shinsei runner right behind him.

Yuki, of course, had no way of knowing, but the announcer and the commentator Yanaka were watching the live feed and commentating on the running of the athletes from each school.

“The footage of the lower-ranked teams at the ten-kilometer mark is coming in. What do you think, Yanaka-san?”

“They’re going at quite a fast pace. I thought that the section prize for the sixth leg would go to Manaka, who is steadily improving their rank from twelfth place, but there is a possibility that it will go to one of the lower-ranked teams.”

“According to the data at hand, except for Tamura-kun of Rikudou, all the runners in the sixth leg have an official record in the twenty-nine-minute range for the ten-thousand meters.”

“When it comes to the mountain descent, the time on flat surfaces is not that important. If you can run ten-thousand meters in the twenty-nine-minute range, then the rest is all down to guts.”

“Guts, you say?”

“Yes. The speed and incline the runners experience is much more than what you see on the screen. It’s like pedalling a bike down a steep slope with both hands free. And today, the footing isn’t good. It’s crucial to calmly keep your balance and have the guts to keep your momentum going.”

“Which of the lower-ranked teams do you think is closest to the section prize?”

“I still don’t know yet, but I like Iwakura-kun of Kansei. He has a very stable lower body. His upper body doesn’t sway unnecessarily, and he doesn’t flinch from running down bad roads at all. He is an excellent example of how to run downhill.”

“I see. The rest would depend on their persistence when the road becomes flat after Hakone-Yumoto. They've passed the ten-kilometer TV relay point.”

As they descended in altitude, the snow turned into sleet mixed with rain and the road became covered with a sherbet-like muck. Yuki realized that he had crossed the width of the crosswalk in two steps.

The current crosswalk was probably four meters wide. If he had crossed it in two steps, then that meant he had gone two meters in one step. Yuki was once again shocked at himself—his acceleration was incredible. He had gained momentum and was literally running as if he were flying, and his stride was widening as a result. He glanced at his watch: for the past five kilometers, he had been running downhill at a pace of two minutes and forty seconds.

One kilometer in two minutes and forty seconds. It was a time Yuki couldn’t achieve on flat ground. As far as he knew, the only person who could sustain such a pace for five kilometers on level ground was Kakeru.

The branches of the cedar trees on the roadside were piled with pure white snow. The trunks were black and wet, and the mountains had been transformed overnight into a beautiful, monochromatic world. As soon as they appeared in the corner of his eye, they streamed backwards, smoother and faster than in a movie.

So, this is the world Kakeru normally experiences. Yuki had a lump in his throat.

Kakeru, you’re in a very lonely place, aren’t you? The wind rumbles loudly in your ears, and all the scenery passes by you in an instant. It feels so good that I never want to stop running, but it’s a world you can only experience alone.

For the first time, he understood why Kakeru was so devoted to running, sometimes to the point of overdoing it. If Yuki were allowed to run at such a speed, he would certainly indulge in it like an addict. He wanted to see the world in quicker, even more beautiful instants. Perhaps that was a momentary experience, almost like an eternity. However, it was too dangerous—it was a world that was too beautiful, too harsh to challenge with a flesh and blood body.

Now I’m just looking at the gate that would lead me there from a distance, with the help of the mountain roads of Hakone, Yuki thought. He knew that he wouldn’t get any closer.

Dragged in by Kiyose’s enthusiasm, Yuki’s life had been centered around running for the past year. But that life was coming to an end today. I have my own way of life. I don’t want to aim for momentary beauty and exaltation, sharpening my mind and body day after day. I want to choose to live among people, even if I’m covered in filth. That’s why I passed the bar and am trying to become a lawyer.

Today’s the end. But I’m glad I experienced this speed for the first and last time. Yuki smiled slightly as he sped along the mountain road. Kakeru, don’t go too far. What you’re aiming for is a beautiful place, but it’s lonely and quiet. So much that it doesn’t suit a living person.

It would be nice if there’s something to tie Kakeru’s soul to the earth, Yuki thought. In people’s lives, in people’s joys and sorrows. It’s only by planting his feet on the ground that Kakeru would definitely become even stronger. Balance was essential. It was the same as running down a snowy mountain road.

As Yuki entered the Miyanoshita Hot Spring Village and passed in front of the Fujiya Hotel, he saw something unexpected and let out a short cry.

“Uwah!”

In front of the hotel, there were many guests waving Hakone Ekiden flags. Some of them were dressed lightly in yukata and padded kimonos, shouting their voices hoarse even as they shrank back from the cold. Among them, Yuki saw his mother, his younger sister who was only half related to him, and his mother’s second husband.

“Yukihiko!” his mother shouted loudly.

“Onii-chan, do your best!” His young sister leaned forward, and his stepfather, who was holding her, nodded firmly.

“This is so embarrassing…”

He passed by the hotel in a few moments, but Yuki ran for a while with his head down. Did my family elegantly spend the New Year’s at that hotel? Yuki snarked inwardly to cover up his embarrassment. They probably knew I wouldn’t be able to come by even if they invited me, so they planned to surprise me by not saying anything. Even so, it’s too bad for my heart. I hope the TV and radio didn’t pick up the voices and figures of Mom and the others. Nico-chan-senpai would definitely make fun of me if he knew. Well, he should only have a radio, so I think I’ll be fine.

Yuki suddenly felt happy. That look on Mom’s face just now. She looked desperate and tearful, like she was the one running.

Yuki didn’t remember his biological father. He had died in an accident right after he was born, so his only memories of his father were in his mother’s words and photos. Since his father’s death, Yuki had only lived with his mother, and he treasured her very much. His high school girlfriend had once said to him, “Yuki, you’re a mama’s boy, aren’t you?” Of course I am, Yuki thought. A son who doesn’t take care of his mother isn’t a good son.

Perhaps because he grew up watching his mother work late into the night, Yuki set his sights on his goals early on. He wanted to get a steady job so that he could make his mother’s life easier. Fortunately, he had confirmed during his school life that his brain wasn’t half-bad. If that was the case, then it would be easy to aim for the bar exam, which was called the strongest qualification. He thought that being a lawyer, where he could work between logic and emotion, would be suitable for him, and more importantly, it seemed to make a lot of money. As soon as Yuki entered high school, he began preparing for the exam on his own. He studied hard and worked on his stamina. He thought that he should be well-versed in the inner workings of relationships between men and women, so he went out with girls.

However, something happened that made Yuki’s efforts all come to nothing: his mother remarried. Her new husband was an office worker who earned a decent wage, so his mother didn’t have to work anymore. She loved her new husband and seemed to be very happy. His stepfather was easily able to do more for her than Yuki had ever wanted to do for his mother.

Yuki couldn’t help but feel devastated. He had his pride, and when he decided to do something, he had to finish it, so he didn’t give up on passing the bar exam. However, it was all in vain now. The following year after his mother remarried, she had his little sister. This was also a situation that made Yuki, who was in his late teens, feel awkward and uncomfortable. When he got into university, he left home and rarely came back, even at New Year’s.

Seeing his family cheer him on made the trivial pent-up feelings he had melt away. As though to match that, the snow had completely transformed into rain.

Both his stepfather and his sister had always cared for Yuki as a member of the family. And most importantly, his mother was happy. That’s all that matters. That’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. It would be childish of me to keep sulking about the fact that my mother became happy in a slightly different way than I envisioned.

Yuki laughed, unnoticed by anyone else, in the midst of his white and billowing exhalation. Before he knew it, he caught a glimpse of the Teitou University runner's back at the end of the turn. He couldn’t sense anyone behind him; he seemed to have pulled away from the lower-ranked teams he had started the race with.

He looked at his watch and confirmed that he hadn’t slowed down his pace at all. His mind and body felt light. He could go the rest of the way downhill at this pace. What was important was whether or not he could keep up this running for the last three kilometers of flat ground after Hakone-Yumoto. Kiyose had given him advice yesterday.

“After a downhill slope, even flat ground feels like going uphill. That’s when the real battle begins.”

I think I’ll be okay, Yuki answered in his mind. I have no intention of losing today—to the battle between me and my body and mind.

---

The drums were still beating at the Odawara relay station. In front of Kazamatsuri Station, there were many people crowded into the kamaboko company's parking lot, waiting for the arrival of the sixth leg athletes.

“Did you see that, Jouta? Yuki’s face was there just now!”

Nico-chan had directly witnessed the scene in front of Fujiya Hotel with the TV function of his cell phone. It was only when Haiji called him earlier that he realized he could watch TV on Jouta’s phone as well. Even Nico-chan, who was knowledgeable about computers, only used his phone for calling, and Jouta only used his for texting. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t interested in the evolution of machines that he could be satisfied with the rundown apartment.

“Yuki-senpai’s mom is young and beautiful,” Jouta said, biting into a rolled omelette. “By the way, he’s going to win the section prize at this rate, isn’t he?”

“Yuki doesn’t seem to be aware of that fact, though. The Manaka guy is just as fast as him, so it's hard to tell.”

“Ugh, I’m so frustrated! I want to tell Yuki-senpai his time.”

“How?”

“I’ll use willpower or telekinesis or something,” Jouta put the omelet he was partway through eating away in his sports bag and began to look at his phone intently. “In less than twenty minutes, it will be Nico-chan-senpai’s turn.”

The screen showed Bousou in the lead, and Rikudou chasing behind with a difference of about one and a half minutes. They were about to finish their descent and head towards Hakone-Yumoto Station. The Manaka runner, aiming for the section prize, had improved his position and was now in eighth place. His pace hadn’t slowed at all.

“How’s Yuki?”

“He’s not on the screen. Until they go out to Hakone-Yumoto, the lower-ranked teams won’t be shown much.”

Nico-chan told Jouta to keep an eye on Manaka’s time and began his final adjustments. He ran lightly in the parking lot to loosen up.

Nine o’clock in the morning. The Bousou runner arrived at the station in the lead. His time was sixty minutes and forty-six seconds. Rikudou and Yamato were the next to receive their sashes. Nico-chan hurried back to Jouta, who was near the relay line.

“Amazing!” Jouta was excited. “Even on flat ground, his speed hasn’t slowed down. Keep going, Yuki-senpai!”

On the screen of his phone, he could see Yuki sidestepping the Teitou runner at the crossroad with New Hakone Road. Kansei, in fourteenth place, had a clear view of TSU in front of them.

“Yes, that’s it!”

Nico-chan took off his jersey. Now it was time to see if Yuki could get the section prize.

“Manaka?”

“We'll be able to see them with our own eyes soon.”

Jouta raised his head from his phone. “They’re here!” he shouted.

The red uniform of Manaka, running along the railroad tracks, was just about to turn off the road and enter the relay station. They knew he was a candidate for the section prize, so the cheers were even louder. Manaka’s sash was handed over.

“What’s his record!”

“Sixty minutes and twenty-four seconds.”

Jouta read the information on the TV screen on his phone out loud. It was a good time for running on snowy roads. Even Rikudou’s Tamura, whose ten-kilometer time was in the twenty-eight minute range, had a time of sixty minutes and forty-eight seconds.

At the relay station, the schools relayed their sashes one after the other. The TV screen showed that Yuki was almost there.

Yuki, just a little more. The staff member called Nico-chan to stand at the relay line. All that was left was a race against time. Next to him, the TSU runner received his sash and started running. He could hear Jouta’s voice as he timed Yuki on his watch.

“Sixty minutes and seventeen seconds, eighteen, nineteen…”

Yuki entered the relay station. He was gritting his teeth and holding the unfastened sash in his right hand. He might have learned Manaka’s time from the spectators along the road and was trying to summon up all his strength in the final stretch.

“Yuki!” Nico-chan howled. “Sixty minutes and twenty-four seconds,” Jouta screamed. There was a stir from the spectators. The sash still hadn’t been passed to Nico-chan’s hand. Yuki was a step short of the section prize.

But at that moment, Nico-chan forgot about the existence of times. Yuki’s eyes were looking straight at him. He wasn’t thinking about the section prize at all, he just wanted to give the sash to Nico-chan as soon as possible. That was the only thing he was thinking about as he made it through the last three flat kilometers. Nico-chan understood that. He could see that in Yuki’s fingertips, which were still hot and damp despite being exposed to the cold wind.

“Good job,” Nico-chan muttered.

“I’m tired. I’m leaving the rest to you.”

Yuki clapped Nico-chan on the back, managed to step firmly on his trembling legs, and prevented himself from falling over.

“Yuki-senpai!” Jouta snatched a towel from a staff member and ran up to Yuki to support him. “It's disappointing, but you were incredible!”

“Disappointing? What is?” Yuki drank water from a plastic water bottle and finally found his voice.

“The section prize. Yuki-senpai’s time was sixty minutes and twenty-six seconds. If you had been two seconds faster, you would have tied for the section prize.”

“Really.”

Two seconds. Yuki laughed. Only two seconds. Such a short amount of time that passed in a single breath. Did I miss out on being the best in this leg by such a small margin?

“Oh well,” Yuki said. “Those two seconds were like an hour to me.”

Jouta almost cried when he saw Yuki’s soles after he took off his shoes. The blisters at the base of his big toes had peeled off and there was blood welling up, even though the skin on his soles had grown so thick over the past year. He realized just how hard it was to run down the mountains of Hakone.

“Of course it was enough. You were so cool, Yuki-senpai.”

After patting the tearful Jouta on the head, Yuki looked at the road leading toward the town of Odawara.

I’m leaving the rest to you, Nico-chan-senpai.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years

Text

Only Time Makes It Human 3

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: hi and sorry for the long wait, I had to squish my brain real hard to get this chapter out, but I hope you like it, I decided a chapter about growth wasn't enough and y'all gave me an idea for angst so I just splashed it there and we'll delve into it more on the next chapter. 10/10 the idea works well enough for me to bring Levi and reader together even more. So don't call me out on being random. This is raw, un fucking edited, I'll edit later 💗

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Tags: modern au, college au

Warnings: mentions of blood

Special kudos if you figure out why I used this gif ;)

The problem with your feet being numb in the morning when you woke up wasn't supposed to phase you as much as it currently did, but the weathering cold that had barged its way to your room silently begged to have you feel something other than the everlasting whirlpool of regret.

Which was -unsurpisingly- something you had been spiraling into a lot lately.

Your ringtone -or rather the caller that had caused it to go off- nontheless remained mercilessly unforgiving to your current condition. The brute vibrations that accompanied your once favorite song ripped through the air and bounced on every wall inside your room before it wooshed inside your eardrums.

You fucking finally had to change that ringtone, you thought.

Your feet, moist and heavy as they buzzed with the aftermath of the coma-like sleep you had just gone through, struggled to wiggle from underneath the comfort of your blankets. Your hands instinctively rubbed the underside of your nose as you sniffled all the cold of the room around you. Throwing the blanket off of you, you groaned at the non stop ringing of your phone.

The few steps to your desk felt like an eternity of having to walk with a badgy weight on your feet, but the faint feeling in your body didnt come to an halt even after you picked the device in your hands. Your eyes couldn’t really adjust well to make out the ID of the caller, of course, sleep hadn't rubbed off your eye lids yet, but still you slid the emerald button to acceptance with no resistance.

“Hey” you sleepingly moaned.

“Hellooo! (Y/n)!” Hange called enthusiastically for the other line, her joyous voice piercing your eardrums “Where are you booo?”

“I just woke up why?” you yanwed.

Pacing your eyes around your room you noticed the dull daylight creeping in through your blinds, signaling the gloom of another potentially snowy day for Trost. You blinked as you took notice of the few articles of soon to reside in the laundry bin clothing as well as the dress that hung from your closet door.

And then, it all snapped.

“Oh. shit!”

Anxiety rushed through you like a bullet to the gut, gushing numbness and waves of cold sweat from the point of impact. Forcefully, you ripped your phone off your ear and double tapped at screen to make it light up. The date read December 25, and below it, laid numerous notifications of your alarm and even a pop up reminder from last night to not forget the food you had to take with you.

Thinking back to that, your head started spinning like crazy, the familiar, yet bizarre feeling of your stomach dropping overtaking you. You hadn't cooked, rather, you had spent all night drinking and sulking on your own, cursing yourself for all your choices up to date.

"Yes, oh shit!” Hnge laughed “Oh! You forgot?”

"Hangeeee stop screaming oh my god no I didn't forget, I'm on my way okay?"

A little yelp came out of your mouth as the cable of your charger prevented you from taking another step closer to your bedroom door; letting out a curse under your breath though you quickly unplugged your phone, and rushed over the mess of your room and out to your living room.

"But you said you just woke up."

"Ahhh," you scratched your head, feeling your loose t-shirt sliding down your shoulder "no!" You said, then in a sterner voice you repeated "No! I uhm, I was just-"

Your poor excuse to communicate after having just woken up didn't startled Hange. If anything, she seemed to find it amusing because she burst into joyous, bubbling laughter at the sound of your despair. And you couldn't blame her for it; were you under any other circumstance you would be laughing with yourself as well.

"It's fine. Erwin and I are making a cake for shorty so if you want to cook here you have plenty of time yet. I'm going to say it though, we could really use your pastry skill."

You let out a sigh as you took your phone off your ear and pressed on the speaker icon. Your hands worked fast to grip onto the hem of your shirt and then, even faster, they managed to pull it off of you in shift movements.

"I'm just going to have a shower, dress up and I'll be on my way. It shouldn't take more than 30 minutes."

Hange exhaled in utter relief through the phone and you could practically feel her sheepish smile as Erwin shouted a big fat 'thank you' from the depths of his kitchen. Bringing out a hand to grap your shower cap -the only shower product you loathed using- you ripped the cap off its place on your cabinet and messily shoved all of your hair in it in rushed movements.

"Got any questions before I hit the shower Hange?"

"Please ask her" Erwin was heard and you cocked your head to the side at the sound.

"No Erwiin, we got it under control okay?"

"No we don't."

Shaking your head to prevent yourself from zoning out, you clicked your tongue before opening your mouth to address your two friends. Asking as to what they were referring to was easy, although it was obvious that Hange felt confident in succeeding in the task Erwin was referring to. Knowing Hange though, you thought you could guess perhaps what exactly was going on.

"Please don't mix food coloring with spinach juice to make the cake green like two years ago."

Erwin's laughter was pretty much evident through the other line as Hange went on blubbering about how she wasn't going to do it again giving extreme emphasis as to why she couldn't understand the reason it tasted bad in the first place but would go with what you said nevertheless. At that point Erwin was laughing hysterically, telling you how Hange was once again, indeed, thinking about it and the sound of his laughter grew even louder than Hange's words.

"Do you have food coloring?"

"Yes Hange I have food coloring."

"Plea-pleaee bring some. Dammit Erwin what's gotten into you- gotta go (y/n) see you in a while."

The beeping sound from the other line left you little to no time to properly reply to your friends with a much wanted greeting, though, you didn't think much of it. You were going to spend the whole day with them, so getting upset over not getting the chance to say goodbye over the phone wasn't something that should have caused guilt to spurt in you.

But surely, this wasn't the only cause of your overly bubbling guilt. The actual cause of the knot in your gut laid to the fact that within the time span of two weeks you had managed to to drag Levi and yourself into a rather steep rabbit hole. There was going to be a serious impact of your relationship with your friends had the two of you made it known to them; everyone would scold you -and they'd be right at that- and maybe this time they'd pick sides as to what wrong or not. And you didn't want that.

Although you secretly wished everyone went with Levi. Or at least you had come to the conclusion that that was what you deserved.

You had been feeling bothered and repulsed by what had caused you to make out with him that night, given the fact that you had been the one that initiated the kiss. And just as much, you had been feeling furious over Levi allowing this to ever happen. But looking back at it now, you couldn't say you regretted getting close to him even in such way. And that was probably the most infuriating thing of all.

Nevertheless, there was also the fact that you would be seeing Levi today and frankly you didn't know what to do with that. Should you act like everything was fine? Should you simply ignore him? Was Petra going to be with him?

Speaking of Petra it would be best if you straight up let her know of what had happened. Acting shady with another woman's man behind her back was outrageous for anyone to do and you hated being in that position like the next person.

Your stomach twisted dangerously at your spiraling thoughts, but you chose to ignore the tight knot, attributing the loud growl you had heard to one caused by your excessive hunger.

Perhaps, your shower was going to help you sort out your thoughts and intentions.

With a twist of your wrist the water started sprinting out of the tap in your shower. Your eyes were fixated on your phone, your thumb roaming through Spotify in hopes to find the perfect song to company your bath with. You simply said good for a Christmas playlist that Spotify suggested, tapping on that, a list of numerous jolly songs popped up in your screen and you simply pressed the big shuffle button before putting your head on your cabinet.

The walk to Erwin's house was very much and as previously expected, quiet. The sidewalks on your way were all covered in sugary white snow, decorating each different apartment complex in the non urban side of Trost along with the standard holiday decorations.

Taking a deep sigh you brought the back of your finger to the metallic button of Erwin's doorbell. Blinking rationally, you looked around at the marble front door frame of his apartment complex, your blood subtly rushing to your feet. You dragged the tip of your combat boot over the snow, curling your toes on the fuzzy material that covered the inside of the shoe.

You were beginning to become impatient as you waited on the doorframe, Erwin was taking way too long to open the door and you were practically freezing out there; the dress you wore did almost nothing to keep you warm. Despite you taking precautions by wearing a cardigan and the leather coat that you had snatched from your brother, the cold still pierced through your sheer black pantyhose, as if your efforts to stay warm were ridiculous.

The sound of footsteps was what startled you next but still your head didn't turn to the source of the buzzing noise. Your nose simply nuzzled to the scarf you had wrapped around yourself as you rubbed your face onto its warm fleece material.

"Uh, hi."

This time you could help but turn around to check who had thrown a greeting at you.

A familiar puff of ginger hair greeted you as you snuck your nose out of the edge of your scarf, two big and round hazel eyes stared right at you as you blinked rapidly back at them.

Great. Just great.

"Hey."

Petra wiggled her nostrils once to the left and then to the right, seemingly scratching the awkwardness in the atmosphere away. She blinked her eyes a few times into yours, her lips pursing together slightly as if she was coming up with a good comeback to your greeting, yet it never came.

"uhm, what's up?"

Your fingers slightly clutched the edges of your coat, crossing over your chest as you felt your jaw start clattering. Your pupils gathered at the corners of your eyes, catching small glimpses of Petra as you eyed her up and down.

She too had opted for a cardigan and a dress. A very safe choice if you were in a place to express your opinion but hers, despite being adorned with numerous tiny and dainty coral and red flowers, looked so thin and tule like and it barely covered her thighs, so much that you felt a pinch of concern run through you that you were slow to decide on whether you wanted to brush off or not.

"I'm.. good." She managed to let out, but you noticed how her lip trembled.

She was definitely shivering, if that wasn't concerning enough you didn't know what was, and she looked so frail and out of place that she could definitely beat you at it. Plus, the lack of a warm jacket struck somewhat of a nerve at you. Even feeling so much guilt over being in her presence you couldn't help but feel your motherly friend instincts wash over you; why wasn't she wearing something warmer? And why were you seconds away from taking off your jacket to offer it to her when you knew she wouldn't even accept it.

"Damn, Erwin's sure taking long, do you want my jacket?"

"Uh-"

Once again and mostly out of instinct, your finger tapped over the metallic button, covered by the edge of your sleeve. Suddenly, the familiar buzz of the intercom growled in your eardrum and you shook your head to its direction automatically.

"I'm so sorry!" Erwin said. "Come in!"

"Hey Erwin!" Petra spoke before you had a chance to say your wanted reply.

Even if you couldn't see him, you knew how shocked of an expression he was wearing.

Taking the few steps into the apartment complex's yard, you rushed to the next door and waited for the known buzz which signaled that Erwin had finally let you inside. With awkwardness spread over your face though, you pushed your lips into a thing line, holding the door back as you signaled to Petra that she should be the first to come inside.

"Thank you." She muttered.

"No prob."

You watched as Petra hesitated to push the elevator button; with a set of trembling fingers her palm rested only a few inches before the metallic button that was lit in a red arrow. With another smile you came closer to her and went to check in which floor the elevator was currently at. Whether she flinched intentionally or not, you didn't know.

"Wanna share a lift? It'll be a while till it comes down again." You offered.

"Uhm, yeah okay."

Once she responded, Petra tapped onto the elevator button with her thumb.

Petra looked at you and clung onto the edged of her cardigan once again. You took notice of how she looked a little more casual and unkept, despite being dressed on point; the lack of a jacket and her tousled naturally wavy bob betrayed an unwillingness to be present to today's event and it's was painfully obvious.

"I'd like to" Petra hesitated, "I'd like to talk to you about something."

"Oh sure, what is it about?"

"It's about Levi."

Dead silence fell as Petra didn't dare turn her gaze to your direction. The little screen over the elevator button still showed that your lift was taking long to come down as if it mocked you, but you couldn't find it in you to tap into the button once again.

"Would you like to grab some coffee with me tomorrow?"

Tomorrow.

To say that you were panicked would be an exaggeration and probably a degradation to Petra's feelings. Her breathing was heavier than your own, frankly because for her it must have been even more uncomfortable than it was for you. You couldn't blame her for that.

Nonetheless you couldn't help but be genuinely curious as to what she had wanted to tell you? It was evident that she knew something. What's slipped you was whether or not she want to bash you for your actions.

She had every right to do so.

"Yeah. Of course, uhh, tomorrow sounds good."

....

Christmas day wasn't as bad as you had expected it to be when Hange had announced to you that Levi would be coming alone with Petra.

For starters, the food was in plehtora; Erwin had cooked your jolly favorite roasted chicken, Mike and Nanaba had brought an enormous plate of their creamiest, most mouth watering souffle, Levi had made some god tasty pumpkin soup and Hange had taken actually good care of fixing a custom non alcoholic cocktail to each one of you.

All of this drool worthy deliciousness had caused, and non surprisingly at that, your body to submit in that peaceful demi slumber that tagged along with the fullness of your tummy. Frankly, it had been so long since you had enjoyed such a good meal and you didn't think you would be enjoying another one until Mikasa's birthday.

Thus, the cool evening sir that entered the room when Erwin opened the window door to the balcony, found you laying on the floor right next to the tangerine fire that danced in the fireplace. You could faintly feel Nanaba's hand scratch at the roots of your hair, her almond tipped nails slowly running in purringly mellow lines over your sculp that sent you to pure delight.

Levi's eyes danced over your form more than he'd like to admit so. Ever so slightly his pupils would travel up and down your thighs and calfs, examining the material of your sheer back pantyhose but whatever emotion overcame him wasn't the animalistic lust he had expected to feel.

He felt rather guilty. And not only for staring at your legs. For bringing himself upon the situation he was in.

It wasn't easy to think with a throbbing head but in Levi's world this poor condition was translated as a prompt to try to get out of whatever shithole he had found himself in. Maybe. Because there was also a certain part inside of him that bashed him to no end about his previous and degrading actions to both Petra's and his person, which part he completely and rationally justified.

With a quick glance at Petra, Levi brought his hand to his face to hopefully wipe any of the numbness his guilt had got him feeling. Petra seemed to enjoy herself as per usual. With her soft smiles and the mellow sway of her hair over her shoulder, she'd often reach for the hem of her white wooly cardigan to cover her shoulder while cooing into the soft material and onto the side of the couch she was seating in.

It would be hard for anyone to guess that the two of them had broken up.

She was unsurprisingly sitting as far off him as she could; the fact that they hadn't announced to anyone they had broken up because they didn't want the Christmas party at Erwin's to be ruined didn't mean she owned Levi to act like his faithful and bubbly dog.

It happened that night after he had stood her up at the movies.

Levi had gathered all of his determination and had managed to push all thoughts aside from the back of his brain, as he was despairate to ignore that feeling your make out session had brushed on him. He had walked up to Petra, all dissolved and stoic, his chest swelling with anxiety. He had stared at her with an agape mouth, he had been muttering words so honest that he felt were fatally brute and Petra had digested them all without any difficulty.

And before he knew it, he was over and done.

Petra hadn't cried, she hadn't wept, she had only answered him with a smile that she'd rather just be friends with him if things weren't going to work between them.

And to an extended it tortured the ravenette, mostly because he remembered the hurt look in her face before she had managed to hide it with her usual mellow smile.

Taking another sigh, Levi stared at Petra's hand while she played silently with the lettuce hem of her dress. Her hazel orbs were fixed on you, who laid before the fireplace like a stray cat on the tire of car during a snowy day. Levi couldnt exactly place the exact emotion behind Petra's expression, though it would be perceived by most as a saddened one. There were specs of regret gathering at the corners of her eyes, reluctance gathered at her slightly puckered lips and a hint of determination to the front tips of her eyebrows.

Maybe Petra's inner strength was something that Levi deeply admired.

Levi made no effort whatsoever to reach out to her to ask what was going on, not even to show some seemingly convern. The more he looked at Petra, the more it felt utterly wrong for him to simply stand next to her, knowing what he had do behind her back. Whether he loved her or not, it wasn't like him to be caught up in such stupid drama.

"Shorty!"

Levi looked up to an enthusiastic Hange with much tousled hair and a big grin on her face that spread from one ear to another. With another, more thorough glance, he quickly became aware of the cake in her hands; a cake covered in white frosting, decorated with soft pastel green letters that wrote a simple birthday wish to his person. He couldn't help but let out a sigh.

"For you!" Hange smiled further "Erwiiin, come light up the candles!"

Looking around the room he noticed how all of his friends' gazes were on him. Mike and Nanaba remained cuddled on the couch opposite to the one he was on, Petra was mellowy smiling at his eith her cherry lips pressed into a thin line and you were fiddling with what seating arrangement was most comfortable for you at the moment.

"We're celebrating another year where you went up in age and down in height, how delightful." Mike commented, causing laughter to spark between the small group of people around you.

After the spur of happiness died out your eyes met with Levi's, briefly and then they traveled anywhere else in the room altogether.

"Let's light up the candles!" Smiled Erwin as he flicked the small metallic button of his lighter.

"I don't want too many, shit. The last time you took my lungs out."

"Not our fault that you're old Levi!" You spoke, earning a half smile by the ravenette.

"Very old!" Hange agreed.

"Tch, I'm only turning twenty six shut your shitty mouths!"

The warm light of the fire licked each waxed strip of wick that hung from the candles, illuminating Hange's face in warm orange light. Once done with lighting up the candles, Erwin plopped himself in between Levi and Petra, crossing his hands over his knees as he shifted his bottom in the most uncomfortable seating on a couch you had ever witnessed.

You merely caught a glimpse of Hange kneeling before Levi as you dragged your gaze over to Petra, fixating it on her for the thousandth time this evening.

There only was one thing in your head that bounced between the crevices of your brain like crazy. Just one simple words that held so much behind it.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow you were going to apologize to Petra and try to make amends. Being the despicable toxic person you had turned into didn't suit you. Owing up to your mistakes was the first step to redemption and you weren't afraid to take it.

As you fell into a spiral of thoughts and guesses about tomorrow though, you couldn't help but subtly ignore the cheerful sing alone to Levi's birthday song.

.....

"Thank you for coming!"

Petra's hair was messily swaying all over her face, falling a direct victim to the frozen December air, yet she smiled as if nothing was going on.

The park around you was covered in snow. White was primarily the color that was plastered on everything, save for the dry stems of trees that were once covered in forest green leaves.

Your peeping hot coffee did nothing to warm up your hands, despite your best wishes and in the moment you had called victim to some specs of jealousy over Petra's gloved hands as they rubbed soothing over her own coffee.

"Of course, I had been meaning to talk to you as well."

"Oh you did?" Petra spoke with her eyebrows following the little surprise that was masking her tone. "To be honest, I didn't think you'd come."

"Yeah about that-"

"Can I please go first?" Petra cut you off.

Her huge hazel eyes that blinked into yours from your left side left you little to no space to deny her wish. Thus, by taking a sigh, you pushed past the quick beating of your heart and gestured her to go first with a kind smile on your face.

"Okay oof, thanks!" Petra huffed "look. Levi and I broke up. Now I know that you'll say it doesn't concern you, and frankly it'd be ideal if it didn't, but I know it does, because Levi explained to me what happened."

At that Petra slightly paused.

Naturallye first thing that came to your mind was the need to express an apology. Although, you weren't that sure if Petra would perceive the apology as sincere, you felt like you ought to give one to her. Yet her eyes blinked into yours further as she took another turn down the path you were walking on and you wordlessly followed asuit.

"I love Levi you know," she sighed "but Levi loves you. You're not over each other and it's painfully obvious, I mean you did just collided to eachother quite literally, not giving a single care about whether you couldn't have each other or not."

A sheer red colored tint painted your cheeks at her words.

Your skin pricked you, burning up a stingingly painful path to all of the pores on your face as shame took the form of an earth shattering wave. Your heart started heaping beats, hollering into the depths of your chest and you could hear it bounce inside your eardrums as if your whole body was hollow save for the jolting organ and the echo of the sound it made was bouncing around each fleshy wall.

Petra was right and you couldn't help but accept but stand the as she was lightning you with her words.

"It hurts to see that someone that I love doesn't love me back but it hurts more to see that you two are very miserable without eachother. I really thought you were a bitch you know."

At the sound of that, you let out a startled laugh.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you just gave us looks when we'd shoe up together somewhere or you'd simply leave, but I don't like turning my back on people and judging them like that. I'm in no place to judge anyone a coping mechanism."

Petra sighed. Her fingers curled strongly onto her cup, while her left palm went to support the cup by the bottom as she angled it on her lips. She made a tiny gulping noise as she drank a sip from her latte, her nose crinkling up as the hot beverage brushed over her sensitive tongue. In turn, you sipped similarly, mimicking Petra just hoping it would serve as a sign for her to go on with her speech.

"I might be hurt, but I vouch to help you and Levi resolve what's going on and get back together."

"You do?"

"Mhm"

"Petra I, I don't know what to say you- you're a literal angel." You admit and the guilt in your stomach only growled in its awakening.

You and Levi had hurt a wonderful person. Petra didn't need to be nice to you, she didn't need to offer to help you with anything but once you made yourself step inside her shoes you were able to see why she had perceived you the way that she initially had.

"I'm sorry."

Your voice was silent and stripped of any emotion other than shame yet Petra was beaming at you in response.

Her warm smile was elegant and comforting as she stared at you, taking another gulp of her drink with a soft giggle. Your eyes were locked with hers, saddened (e/c) irises staring into her hazel ones, as she smiled even more little by little.

It was strange.

There was a different kind of bubbling inside your chest and you knew because your heart wasn't hammering anymore, not was your stomach trying to be ripped apart in tiny pieces after it vored into your other intestines. You felt serene, at peace even.

It clicked to you that this is what must feel to be forgiven.

"It's fine, plus you guys kinda deserve each other." Petra laughed at your chocked inhale, pressing a comforting, gloved palm to your shoulder. "I'd rather find my happiness when I'm not in between two people that struggle to find theirs."

Petra nuzzled to the comfort of her jacket, giving you a scrunched up bunny smile. You knew it's not that she hoped you could be best friends after this. She simply wanted to make sure that she could do her best to help two people find happiness. And it wasn't all that bad, you figured. You didn't know what you would do were you in her place.

In a way, you admired Petra for being so strong.

"Besides, girls shouldn't bring down other girls."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry about what I did behind your back. I own up to my mistake. I can't take it back but I can promise that I won't become this toxic ever again."

You shot an apologetic side smile at her as you followed her tracks.

Taking a new look in your surroundings, you deeply inhaled the cold air, filling your lungs in shivering winter freshness. A few specs of snow were adorning Petra's hair as the fell from the sky in a dainty manner, licking the stray threads that popped from her wooly gloves.

There definitely was a commotion a few blocks away. You could hear sirens go off not so far from your spot but you chose to ignore them, it was typical for a city person to filter out unnecessary noise, and having to live in Trost added tons to what you had to filter or not.

"It's December twenty six and the two is back to being a Mayhem." Petra sighed.

"It's like we're Gotham or some shit."

"Gotham?" Petra blinked at you, earning a gasp from you.

"Step one to being the friend of someone who's majoring in comics-"

"Oh, friends yay!"

Shaking your head, to ignore the child like enthusiasm, you continued, "Please know the most well known fictional city, it's Batman's city too."

"OH!" Petra's mouth fell agape as she took in the information, but she quickly giggled again as she saw that you easily took a gulp of your beverage "you're right."

For what seemed like a second you felt at peace once again. Petra bubbled about how she wanted to apologise to Levi about her rather cold behavior last night, and explained in the most non detailed way how it was the memory of the passing of her mother that had caused her to become this grumpy.

"Don't worry Petra! But beware, you could be turning into Levi version two point oh and-"

A loud sound startled you, sending both you and Petra back a few steps. Dumbfounded, you stared at each other and around you, locking eyes with different by passers that were just as shocked as you.

"Maybe we should go back!" Petra suggested. You simply nodded, hearing a good amount of running footsteps coming to the direction of the block you were in. In any way, getting caught up with a manhunt wasn't in your plans for today

"Yeah maybe we shou-"

Your words were cut off absurdly, harshly and shockingly all together. As gunmetal orbs locked with yours, your eyelids shot open, hour mouth dropping to the snow covered concrete.

"Levi?"

Wait, Levi? That was actually so random

Before you could manage to process what was going on around you, or why on earth Levi had just popped up from the alley right across you another head splitting sound filled the air.

Levi -yes, this was indeed Levi, you just didn't really know how to process this- collapsed on his knees like a rag doll, his torso and head giving in to the exhaustion of his body. Once he fell, you stood frozen, shieldimg Petra with one hand as the two of you watched in horror while crimson started littering the sugary snow.

"Call an ambulance." You spoke dryly, eyes still wide with horror.

The people who had seemed to be after Levi quickly fell onto the hands of the hands of a handful of police men who were on their tracks, but you couldn't care to look at their faces. You just run towards Levi, always followed by a petrified Petra, your feet giving in as you kneeled right next to him, your fingers gingery ghosting over him just to inspect what was his condition.

You listened as Petra spoke with the emergency center in horror, explaining what was the scene before her eyes while struggling to keep herself from trembling.

"What's going on?" Shy muttered once she detached the phone off her ear.

"I'm pretty sure now is not the right time for a story, but Levi used to be in a street gang in his teens."

"Oh boy."

Oh boy indeed.

Here's your gentle reminder that constructive criticism makes me cry because I'm a baby

Taglist: @sasageyowrites @liddolwhynot2000 @ackermans-freedom-inc @callmepromise @nobody-knows-anymore @levisbrat25 @thethyri @hawkssnugget @berrijam @melancholicmonologue

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kyojuuros · 3 years

Note

I'm the one who wrote you the anon message regarding my feelings with the manga feeling like a 'rush job' despite being fine with the conclusion. Thanks for your response. I'm going to be brutally honest and say everything after chapter 106 (the War for Paradis arc), IMHO, should've gone differently in certain ways. For starters, it was WAY too long (33 chapters) and could've used more breathing room by splitting it into two and then start with a completely NEW arc that would've been DEVOTED....

to addressing ALL the plot points and possibly leading to a more satisfactory conclusion. Eren's character arc was fine but, IMHO, needed better build up, a long with a better conclusion with more focus on him in the REAL world, his REAL persona, and not the hard-ass act and Path shenanigans. The manga has a dark setting and it's suppose to be sad/tragic/depressing/heart wrenching but I don't like a terrible terms he left with friends, Hange and Levi. I'm sorry but there's really no excuse.

I bolded the part that really stood out to me because I feel exactly the same way. I don’t think making his thoughts and feelings a total mystery while completely turning him into someone who feels totally different from the pre-basement portion of the series was a good move, like, AT ALL. It’d be like if Star Wars was presented in chronological order (and let’s say you don’t know who Darth Vader is when you start) and saw Anakin and Padme get married, and then ~time skip~ to him attacking Padme and Obi-wan and becoming Darth Vader... and only seeing his descent to the dark side just before he sacrifices himself for Luke.

People who’ve followed me for a long time know I used to be a lot more involved in the meta community and I was always theorizing and making long-ass posts about character arcs and relationships and predictions on what I think is going to happen. It was a lot of fun and even if I wasn’t always correct, I was never so far off that it actually made me upset (or if I was, it was warranted and even comical... I used to think the Beast Titan wasn’t a shifter and that there was an underground tunnel that lead outside the walls lol). I think the last extensive meta/prediction I had written was after chapter 112 had published, and once I realized that I apparently had no fundamental understanding of Eren at all anymore I completely stopped trying. It wasn’t fun anymore. I didn’t appreciate that I could no longer understand my favorite character (of all time, at the time).

But then I think back and I’m like, no... I did understand Eren. I understood him just fine before the time skip and that’s why everything after Marley frustrated me to no end because it was like he’d been ripped away from me and replaced with a fraud. I couldn’t even cry about his death because I’d become so emotionally removed from him by that point that it didn’t even matter to me anymore (and this is coming from someone who would cry about him a lot just listening to song lyrics or getting lost in thought or rambling with friends). It continues to frustrate me because I still love him as a character, and I don’t need to defend him (there is nothing defendable) but I wish I could feel confident in at least explaining his actions properly. I don’t mind that he became the antagonist, I just hate that I continue to feel like I can’t understand why.

I think that, had Isayama just told his story chronologically, and kept us privy to Eren’s POV, that we would have understood better. Seeing him descend into the darker side of himself would have made much more sense if we had actually witnessed it in real time. Giving us a random flashback here and there, barely getting his thoughts at all, and having the most underwhelming info dump in the final chapter (that STILL didn’t even clear things up properly, it just added MORE damn questions) was terrible for his character and the overall narrative. A character that used to give me so much hope (and I was in a very dark headspace when I stumbled upon snk) became a character that just made me feel disappointed.

Rambling over Eren aside, I also agree that the final arc should have been chopped up into 2 or more arcs (I generally treat the rumbling as its own arc at this point anyway). We should have gotten more from Historia. Levi should have interacted more with the 104th. We should have been able to see Hange blossom into their own as a confident commander (and not get killed just to make Armin commander for 5 minutes???). Armin and Annie’s feelings toward each other should have been explored more. Eren developing romantic feelings for Mikasa should have been explored more. Mikasa and the entire Azumabito/Hizuru subplot should have actually amounted to... literally anything. Ymir having a connection to Mikasa should have been explored much more (especially with the revelation that this was the most likely cause of the headache’s Mikasa has had since the 2nd chapter). I’m sure there’s plenty of other things I could think about that needed addressing, tbh.

The story feels concluded but incomplete, if that makes sense. The themes were wrapped up and are easy to pinpoint and that’s good and all, but for a story that’s very character driven to not have properly built up/wrapped up certain arcs, relationships and character-centric plot points just makes it feel hollow. So I understand why a lot of people are very frustrated and upset and ready to put the story on the shelf never to be touched again.

I’m trying to give Isayama some grace since he admitted the scope of the story was beyond his ability as an author. I just wish that instead of barreling forward with a narrative that he knew he couldn’t execute properly, he would have reconsidered the trajectory of the plot altogether and written something that he knew he could feel confident in. I can think of many ways the story could have gone post-basement that would have been both more interesting and probably more satisfying, regardless if the ending was dark, bittersweet or happy.

It’s a story I’ll read and watch again, many times, I’m sure. I’m still looking forward to part 2 of the final season. I still want to make content for it. I still want to buy and display merchandise of it. I still love these characters and the world Isayama created. I appreciate and treasure all of the joy SnK has brought me over the years. I just... disagree heavily with his narrative choices in the final arc. I’d like to think that MAPPA will somehow execute it a little better (there are things WIT did that I liked better, though they did I things I also liked less, lol), but I’m not going to get high hopes just to get let down again.

.... It appears I have pent up my frustrations a bit in an effort to maintain a positive presence. LOL

#snk spoilers #a little negativity under the cut sdghksjdghsdh #anon #reply

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enviedear · 4 years

Text

dreams → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which draco tries to make amends with his old bestfriend he pushed away. the girl who saw the best in him, and still might.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.6k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you knew what was to come before it actually came. you could tell from the way he acted. instead of confiding in you, he would ignore you. instead of listening to you, he would find an excuse to leave the conversation.

your best friend was not your best friend anymore. but you were a hopeful third year then, and the thought of a diminishing friendship seemed ridiculous.

it was a horribly cold day when it all happened. you were sat near the frozen black lake, watching snowfall when you had heard the familiar call of your name.

when you turned around you had seen your best friend, draco.

“i’ve missed you! come sit beside me and catch up,” you exclaimed.

“i can’t do that, y/n.” he had said, simply.

you still remember the way you looked at him. your eyes were full of innocent confusion.

“draco what are you talking about? are you scared of getting your ass wet from the snow?” you had teased.

“no. i just can’t be around you anymore.” his eyes were colder than the air around you.

you didn’t say anything, just continued looking at him. none of it had felt real. sure draco wasn’t the nicest boy in your year, but he was your best friend. this all had to be some joke. a cruel joke, but a joke.

“i can’t hang about some ditzy hufflepuff. if i want to keep my friends i can’t be seen with you. and if i want to date pansy i can’t have some lovestruck girl around me all the time, can i?” he had hissed.

lovestruck? no. not at the time, in third year you only wanted a friend.

“oh. okay, i’m sorry for bothering you then.” you had mumbled.

and that was that. nothing else was said between the two of you. you had quickly abandoned the notion of watching the snowfall, and instead, slipped into your empty dorm room.

you had made your way to your bed, closed the curtains, and laid there for hours. the thoughts in your head keeping you awake. you’d missed dinner, and your dorm mates had brought you some without a word. that night, it rained. it was a terrible thunderstorm.

but the thunder seemed to match your pain, and it comforted you a little. and after that night, you started enjoying every thunderstorm.

you were now in your sixth year, and many things had changed. mainly, your feelings toward a certain blonde slytherin.

“if i were parkinson i’d feel so embarrassed for myself.” your best friend, ruth giggles.

the two of you were at dinner, and ruth had a perfect view of draco and pansy.

“why? what’s happening?” you ask.

“well, she’s trying to hold his hand but he’s much too focused on his turkey leg to take notice of her. poor girl, you’d think she’d figure out the bloke doesn’t like her.” ruth sighs.

you roll your eyes, “pansy would put up with anything for malfoy. she’s so dependent.”

it was a horribly rude thing to say of course, but it was true. you were sure everyone knew that parkinson would do anything to get into a relationship with malfoy.

“well, i’m all done. want to head to the library with me before it closes?” ruth asks.

you nod your head and grab your bag.

the walk to the library after dinner had become part of your daily routine, and if it weren’t for ruth you know you’d probably forget to study most days.

the two of you find a table to sit at, and take out your books. it’s only november, so the workload isn’t too heinous yet. you choose to review your potions notes and begin to study ahead for the upcoming lesson.

you’re in the middle of reading a section about the elixir of euphoria when ruth tells you she’s going to head to bed.

“okay, goodnight. i’m going to finish this and then i’ll be down there.” you smile at her.

she bids you goodnight, and then you’re left alone. by the time you finish, it’s well past bedtime. but lucky enough, you’re a prefect. the fact always comes in handy for you.

you pack away your books and begin heading for the hufflepuff common room. you’re just outside the library when you see someone pass by the adjoining corridor.

the dim light makes it impossible for you to determine who it is, so you follow after them.

“excuse me! no one is to be out of bed right now. i’m going to have to give you detention..” you trail off, making eye contact with the familiar grey eyes of your childhood.

“y/l/n.” he says, almost surprised.

you don’t say anything, you simply pull out a detention slip and hand it to him.

“get to your common room, malfoy.” you mutter, turning around.

“are you still mad at me?” you hear him ask, his tone light and careful.

“whatever are you talking about?” you glare, turning to face him once more.

“you know what i’m talking about, y/l/n. i think you’re giving me this bloody detention because you’re still upset i didn’t want to be your friend in third year.” he spits.

you feel your ears grow hot before you reply, “we’re not kids anymore. i’ve moved on and so should you. leave me alone, malfoy.” and with that, you leave the boy standing alone.

the next day is much the same as usual. you start the day with charms, struggle your way through advanced transfiguration, and go to herbology. after lunch, it’s time for your free period.

most days, ruth accompanies you outside near the black lake to sit and relax. with everything going on in the world these past few years, you’re glad to have a friend you can confide in. today, however, she’s stuck retaking a charms test. so you’re all alone this evening.

the cold november air casts goosebumps on your skin, but you’re too focused on your thoughts to care. all day, you’ve found yourself reliving last night with draco. you’ve played the situation out so many times you’re convinced that at this point, you’ve come up with every single way the conversation could have gone.

maybe you could have be nicer to him? maybe you shouldn’t have spoken at all? maybe you should have put him in his place more?

all of these thoughts bombard you, and make you feel just like you did back in third year. weak, confused, and hurt. you didn’t even know why you were thinking of draco so much in the first place.

well, maybe you did know. even though you weren’t friends anymore, you still looked out for him. there were plenty of times people would speak badly of him for things he couldn’t change, and you’d be quick to defend him.

you also always listened in to any conversation where his name was brought up. at this point, you were sure it was instinct.

you didn’t like draco anymore, but you still loved him. granted, not the way you loved him as a child. no, now you have a love for him that rivals any love poem, song, or illustration.

and you hate it. you don’t know why you love him, and it doesn’t stop you from loathing the person he is now. though, you’ve often let your mind slip into a different scenario. one where draco never stops being your friend. he doesn’t care for what others have to say. and after school the two of you fall in love and live in a cottage in italy.

but the only cottage you can possibly see in your near future is hagrids’. so you always stop the thought before you can become too invested. all your wishes for a different life with draco can never come to fruition anyway.

you check your watch and see it’s time to head inside for dinner. you’ve almost reached the greenhouses before you’re violently pulled backward, causing you to fall straight on your ass.

you look up and are greeted with the very face you told to leave you alone.

“great, it’s you. have you come to hex me for your little detention?” you remark, getting to your feet.

“you’re such a brash person to be in hufflepuff, has anyone ever told you that.” draco spits, before lighting his tone, “sorry i didn’t mean— i just need to speak with you.”

“so you flung me on my ass?”

“i didn’t mean to!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “i don’t want to speak with you. for the last time, leave me alone.”

“y/n you don’t understand i don’t have anyone else to talk to!” he shouts.

“oh so now you want to talk to me! just because your other friends are too busy now. what is it they’re busy with draco, helping the dark lord?” you seethe.

he huffs and looks down, not saying a word.

“that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? keep me out of it, malfoy. i don’t want to be a part of your pathetic ideology.” you jeer.

he keeps his gaze on the ground when he mutters, “i don’t want to be a part of it either. that’s why i wanted to speak to you,” he looks up and stares right into your eyes. “i need help.”

your mind goes a mile a minute. you can’t stop looking at him. you don’t know if this is real or not but you reply before you properly think it out.

“what do you need from me?”

you see him relax a little. his eyebrows lower, he slouches a bit, and his eyes become softer. he looks more like the draco you knew. the thought makes your stomach drop and your mind race.

“can i take you somewhere?” he asks.

you nod your head and begin to follow the tall boy. he leads you into the castle, and up to the seventh floor. he looks at you before telling you to stand where you are and walks up and down the corridor three times.

you look at him confused and are about to suggest that maybe someone hit him with a confundus charm when suddenly a door appears in front of you.

“the room of requirement?” you ask, amazed.

draco doesn’t say anything as he pulls you into the room with him.

the room in question amazes you. there are millions of things that capture your gaze. it makes you feel extremely small.

“what are we doing here, draco?” you quiz.

“i’m going to show you something but you have to promise not to judge too quickly,” he stresses.

“i can’t just promise you—“ you stop yourself, taking away your defenses, “i won’t judge you draco. just get it over with.”

he lets out a deep sigh before lifting up his sleeve on his left arm, and you know what it is before he shows you.

a dark mark.

“draco, that’s kind of hard not to judge,” you affirm.

“i know. y/n, but i didn’t want it. he— he made me. my bloody father ruined everything. now i have to play as the dark lords' pawn. he’s asked me to do the unthinkable...” draco falters.

“what do you mean? what’s the unthinkable?”

the boy in front of you begins to look even more broken and hurt as he no doubt begins to think about whatever is troubling him.

“dumbledore. i have to kill him.” he says, tears pooling out of his grey eyes.

the confession causes you to step closer to the boy. you search his face for a lie, but come up empty-handed.

“you don’t have to, draco! you can go into hiding with me. we can go into the muggle world. do not do this, draco.” you plead.

“y/n you don’t understand. the dark lord will kill my mother if i don’t. she’s doesn’t deserve to die because of father’s mistakes or my cowardice. i have to do this. i just need one person to know that i never wanted to do it.” he tells you, desperately trying to wipe away his tears.

you can’t bring yourself to say anything, so instead, you wrap your arms around him. he’s still cold from the breeze outside and he shakes a little still from his confession. but you hold onto him and rub his back.

“i’m so sorry for everything. for third year, for this. i’m sorry y/n. i know you told me that i shouldn’t be worried about something that happened when we were kids, but i can’t help it. i never forgave myself.” he whispers into your ear.

“i know you’re sorry, draco.” you whisper back.

he pulls away from you and puts a hand on your cheek, “i was scared. you made me a good person and it scared me. and i loved you. salazar, did i love you.”

you furrow your eyebrows, “you loved me? back in third year?”

“so much. i never stopped really. i thought about telling you so many times over the past few years, but i could never work up the courage. then this happened and—” he sighs looking down at his mark, “well i thought i should tell you before everything happens.”

“i love you too. i hated not having you in my life.” you confess.

“i’ll never leave you again. i know it’s a lot to ask of you. i want you to tell me if you don’t want to be a part of this. you don’t have to put up with my fucked up life.” he expresses.

“i know you’re good, draco. i’ll make sure that after all of this is over, you’re not seen as something you’re not. when harry kills him and ends it all, i’ll be here. i want to be here for you, and i will.”

his eyes take in your words, watching your lips. the two of you are so close you can smell the deep and musky fragrance of his cologne. you feel the beat of his heart. his eyes bounce around from your mouth to you eyes, looking more asking each glance.

finally, you begin asking him the same question without the use of words. he doesn’t hesitate and connects his lips to yours. there’s electricity to the kiss. the motion causes your world to become brighter. you feel as though you’re opening up a part of your soul that hasn’t been touched in years, making you lean in deeper. the two of you are exploring parts of yourselves and each other, and before you can figure one thing out the kiss takes you to a new revelation.

the kiss starts to become even more hungry and intense. draco slips his free hand to the back of your neck, and you bring your hands to his soft hair desperately trying to pull him even closer. you feel your face get hotter and your stomach flutters more. draco’s lips are like the violent thunder you’d grown so accustomed to loving over the years. it makes you yearn for more, even though you know you have everything. you have every single fiber of the blonde boy. his soul is yours, and yours is his.

when the two of you pull away, nothing is said. you both silently come to the same conclusion, what you two share now makes up for what was lost.

“i’m so glad i never moved on from you.” he professes.

you smile a little at his wording, thinking back to the previous night. looking back in it now, you don’t understand why you’d ever lie to him.

“i never really wanted you to.” you say.

even though nothing is perfect and your situation had too many issues to write down, you and draco feel comfort and ease the both of you haven’t felt in a long time.

this time, you won’t let it escape you.

#—myfics !#draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco one shot #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x y/n #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #hufflepuff!reader #stephs200challenge

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youngerdrgrey · 3 years

Text

relax (this is private, too) // a Mary/Ryan oneshot

about: In a post-2x13 world, Mary welcomes Sophie to the Bat Team, and Sophie derails the conversation with an observation.

“It’s a tale as old as time. ‘Straight’ girl meets somebody that she just has to know, wants to spend all her time with her, starts wearing her clothes….” Sophie and Mary both look down at the color-block jacket that Mary’s wearing — Ryan’s color-block jacket. But Mary couldn’t possibly have a crush on Ryan… could she? + read on ao3

notes: Surprise! Truly, none probably more surprised than me. One moment I'm saying that I probably won't write for a bit, and the next I'm writing this because we really didn't talk enough about Mary saying, "Okay, that's kind of sexy" over the hot shot moment. (As a note, yes, platonic, intimate friendships between women are important. At this moment, though, let's run the tape back with Mary who is very confused.)

🦇

“Sit, sit, sit.” Mary leads Sophie through the loft to the living room. “You must have questions.”

Sophie does sit — on the chair this time, which leaves the couch open for Mary. It’s a slightly different seating arrangement than they had yesterday. There’s definitely a lot less attitude and tension here, but then again, it is only Mary and Sophie right now. Unless Ryan’s patrol goes poorly, but it probably won’t. Besides, Mary had texted Ryan about wanting some one-on-one time to suss Sophie out. Sophie’s a great person, but she might need to come around to Ryan wearing the suit.

Mary uncorks the wine bottle on the coffee table and gives a generous pour into the two stemless glasses. It’s a rosè, which is the perfect drink for a casual conversation. It’s light, airy, and has absolutely no chance of worms or poison in the bottom.

Sophie eyes her glass a moment before picking it up anyway. “Honestly?” She chuckles. “I have less questions now.”

“Really?” Mary settles back into the couch. “Because I won’t judge you if you do. It’s a lot to take in.” Mary’d wanted to rip the suit right off of Ryan the first time that she saw Ryan in it. Granted, at the time, they’d still been trying to find Kate, and a stranger was wearing Mary’s sister’s secret vigilante costume.

Sophie swirls her glass. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still processing the Ryan Wilder of it all, but… well, it all makes sense now.” She leans forward, her elbows finding the tops of her knees as she pitches towards Mary. “Before last week, I couldn’t understand why Ryan was suddenly everywhere. Sure, she worked at the bar, but then you were roommates out of nowhere. You went from zero to….” Sophie snorts into her wine glass.

Mary laughs too, but she doesn’t quite get why. It’s like they’re playing Never Have I Ever all over again. “Zero to what? I want in on the joke.”

Sophie shakes her head though. Her eyebrows pull together like she’s still puzzling something. Then she gives in, and her voice still has a hint of that humor as she finishes, “Zero to U-haul.” Mary chokes on the air in her lungs. Sophie raises her glass in a silent toast. “So, the Batwoman thing — makes a lot more sense than you suddenly having a girlfriend.”

Mary’s cheeks flush. Leave it to the lesbian to assume Mary’s hiding her sexuality. “A secret girlfriend is much more your speed.” Wait, is that rude? “Uh, no offense.”

Sophie takes a swig of wine. “None taken. You’re right. So, tell me more about working with Ryan.”

Mary smiles. This, she can do. She could talk about Ryan for hours. “She’s amazing. I mean, you know, you’ve seen her. She totally fills out the suit. Like it suits her and not the other way around. You’d think that it wouldn’t, but she really makes it her own.”

“Right, with the wig.”

“With everything!” Mary drinks some more. “She really gets this city, you know? Everything we’re doing with the Center is all Ryan’s idea. She came up with the plan, and she has these rules that we follow as the Bat Team! No killing, no working with Crows — again, no offense. Er, well,” Mary tilts her head to the side, “some offense. You guys have an awful track record at this point.”

Sophie takes another drink. “So you tell me.”

“But we also do team building exercises. It’s mostly us playing Taboo, and Luke getting really tired of us. Ryan’s so great. It’s like we don’t even have to say anything to know what the other is thinking. And even though she’s the boss, and she’s the leader, it’s like we’re really working side by side to make Gotham the place we always wanted it to be. The Center’s only the start. She has ideas about upgraded transitional shelters for people experiencing homelessness, and expanding the clinic if we get enough resources. She listened to my whole pitch about what we would need to do it, and asked questions, and— what?”

Sophie’s staring at Mary. Staring hard, but soft at the same time.

Mary swipes a hand across her cheek. “Is something on my face?”

Sophie shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing.” She drinks again, but her brows stay furrowed.

“Sophie, come on. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Maybe hearing about all the good that Ryan wants is too much for Sophie right now. Mary can wait. It’s not like she’ll run out of good stuff to say.

“It’s the way you talk about her,” Sophie says finally. That softness is there again. A gentle touch in her voice. “Between that and your ‘kinda sexy’ comment yesterday… I don’t know, Mary, it just sounds like you have a crush.”

“A crush?” Mary repeats. “On Ryan?” She scoffs. “Hate to break it to you, Sophie, but I am straight. Like so straight. Like—”

Sophie puts her hands up in a silent casual defense. She drops them a moment later. “You don’t have to convince me. I believe you.”

“Thank you!” Mary flops back into the couch. Her head bounces just a bit on the top of it. Her curls smush, and she sinks down so that the thought can hopefully follow it out of her head.

She knows what sexy is. She can identify that something could be attractive without actually being attracted to said thing. There are all the different types of attraction. She ran a course on gender and sexuality for the doctors and volunteers at her clinic to make sure that everyone was on the same page in how to properly treat people that the medical field did not always regard with respect. She would know if she had a crush on Ryan.

Wouldn’t she?

Sophie sets her wine onto the coffee table. “It’s a tale as old as time. ‘Straight’ girl meets somebody that she just has to know, wants to spend all her time with her, starts wearing her clothes….” Sophie and Mary both look down at the color-block jacket that Mary’s wearing — Ryan’s color-block jacket.

“Okay, but we live together,” Mary reasons. Roommates borrow each other’s clothes. It’s not like she’s taking her crush’s jacket so that she has an excuse to see Ryan again. She can see Ryan whenever she wants. She does see Ryan whenever she wants. She can’t even count the number of times she’s come back from an awful shift, walked into Ryan’s room, and flopped down onto the bed beside her.

Her bed’s not softer than Mary’s. Mary obviously cared a lot more about her rest than Kate did, so Mary’s mattress is a dream. But Ryan’s room smells like a dialed down greenhouse. It smells alive and hopeful and earthy in a way that instantly calms Mary down. And when Mary’s having a really rough day, Ryan will put a pillow in her lap and run her hands through Mary’s hair until she stops seeing whatever gruesome wounds that she’s spent the last few hours dealing with. That’s not a crush. That’s… comfort. Intimacy. A deep, deep starvation for physical touch after a lifetime of parental neglect.

Friends can be affectionate. Friends can want to be close to each other.

She wants to be close to Luke. And to Sophie! She would love to curl up next to Sophie right now. Though, the more that Mary thinks about curling up with Sophie, the more she recognizes that it wouldn’t be the same as cozying up to Ryan. Ryan’s basically her same size. She’s got this warmth that radiates from her cheeks and her chest, and she hums songs and asks Mary to guess which song it is. Mary’s awful at this game, by the way. She usually ends up giving up, or drifting off to sleep while Ryan’s clearly picking songs that Mary — as someone who did not grow up in a Black household — did not grow up with.

(The one time Mary used that as a defense, Ryan had pointed out that Ryan didn’t grow up in a Black household either. Ryan grew up in a mismatch of cultures and identities in group homes before Mama Cora found her in high school. They’d made up for lost time with plenty of Miss Anita Baker and all the classics that Ryan had missed out on. The rest of Ryan’s cultural education came from other Black students and friends who’d either clowned her for not knowing a reference, or rushed to show her what their parents told them. It hadn’t been as simple as a natural osmosis for Ryan to feel at home with some of the cultural references around her.)

(Mary had whispered that it wasn’t easy for her either. Not with her mom working all the time and the rest of her Korean-American family out of reach. “There weren’t many Korean people in Gotham.” An understatement, but Ryan had leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of Mary’s head to comfort her. Sadness Mary hadn’t even known was still there had welled up. Liquified into tears that slipped onto Ryan’s pillow.)

(“It was—” Her breath had caught in her throat. The tears smeared her vision, which was fine, since all she could see from this angle were Ryan’s plants by the window anyway. “It was so lonely sometimes. And my dad…. With Kate… And Alice….” She couldn’t finish a single sentence. All the tears turned to sobs, and the sobs turned into this soul-clenching pressure in her chest.)

(Ryan had curled around Mary then. An arm found its way under Mary’s knees and softly tugged her into a tighter ball in Ryan’s lap. Ryan rocked them, whispered again and again, “It’s okay. Let it out. I got you. I’m here, Mary. I’m here.”)

Mary gulps now. “Ryan is….” She’s Mary’s roommate. Mary’s best friend. She’s the one who got Mary through losing Kate and who welcomed Mary onto the Bat Team. She’s the first person Mary calls whenever anything happens and literally the only person Mary could entrust The Hold Up to. She’s Batwoman, and…. And Mary has no idea what she would do without Ryan at this point. But it’s not like Mary wants to kiss Ryan. Just look at Ryan.

Look at Ryan in those ridiculous flannel shirts. She has twelve. Not including jackets. And she’s a woman, which is not Mary’s type. Mary hasn’t been super successful with her previous type, but they definitely have certain characteristics that Ryan does not. They don’t walk around in fluffy robes that they bought to spite their ex-girlfriends, or wake up super early after a late shift to use the workout bike that Mary still has never actually tried riding. They don’t make Mary sweet potato pancakes and encourage her to try out cooking on her off nights for stress relief. They don’t make her feel like home. They don’t…. Shit.

The lowest groan that Mary has ever done in her life grumbles out of her.

Sophie pops her lips. “There it is.”

Mary squeezes her eyes shut. “You’re not right. I don’t — I can’t — it’s Ryan.” She can’t fall for her best friend! She doesn’t have a backup bestie. “Besides!” Mary pops up to tell Sophie, “I have never once wanted to kiss her.”

Sophie raises an eyebrow in the smoothest, most silent way to ask, Are you sure?

(Mary got them breakfast the next morning. She couldn’t do the sweet potato pancakes, but she knew the right cafe to get Ryan’s favorite vegan chorizo burrito. She got back just as Ryan was finishing up a shower and called out, “Breakfast!”)

(Steam followed Ryan out of her bedroom. The tips of her hair dripped softly onto her shirt, just above her chest, and Mary couldn’t stop glancing down at it. Normally, she would’ve been able to, but that morning…. Ryan snatched up her burrito and flopped down onto the couch. On the first bite, Ryan let out a soft moan that somehow carried straight over to Mary. Maybe Mary made the wrong food choice? If the burrito was that good, and Mary could feel it, then she needed some of what Ryan was having.)

(“You’re brilliant,” Ryan said. Then she locked eyes with Mary and gestured with her burrito. “Anyone who would ever leave you behind is a dumbass. Full offense to the entire Hamilton-Kane family.” Ryan dug in for another bite, and Mary’s heart swelled in her chest. She couldn’t even smile with how full she felt. How warm and safe and loved. God, she loved Ryan. She really, really could spend the rest of her life like this.)

(Ryan’s face scrunched up. “Stop looking at me like that. I don’t care how hungry you look. I’m not sharing.”)

(Mary faked an outraged gasp. She wasn’t even hungry. Not anymore, not really. Still, she threw herself onto the couch beside Ryan. “I paid for it! Give me a bite!” Ryan squirmed away, and Mary had to cling to the curve of Ryan’s back to try and reach for the good. “Come on! Ryan!”)

(If Ryan was a guy, this is when Mary would’ve kissed him. Would’ve peppered his head and his cheeks and his nose with kisses until he turned just enough for her to kiss his full lips and suck his tongue into her mouth. To lose every bit of resistance in the soft brush of her hands, and the gentle curls of Ryan’s hair beneath her fingers. Ryan’s teeth nipping at her bottom lip, then her neck, then—)

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” Mary sinks even deeper into the couch. Then shoots up at the reminder of the memory of wanting to kiss Ryan on this exact freaking couch. She turns her wide eyes to Sophie. “What am I going to do?”

Sophie clicks her tongue. “Nope, I want nothing to do with that. Whatever happens there is between you and Ryan.”

“But what if….” Mary loses her words in a squeak. What if she doesn’t know what she wants to happen? What if she doesn’t want anything to happen? What if she’ll be totally fine, going about her business, continuing her life where she gets to occasionally cuddle up with her best friend in their apartment? Maybe she doesn’t need anything more than that. She’s made it this far, and she didn’t even know she had any sort of feelings, or attraction. She can keep on going now. She can be normal.

Not normal meaning straight, just normal meaning Mary’s normal state. Which was straight. Is straight?

Mary groans. “I hate my life.”

Sophie reaches for the wine bottle and fills Mary’s glass up to the brim. “Look on the bright side — at least you know who she is. No secret identities, or clandestine rendezvous. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am apparently into a lot of things I didn’t know,” Mary mumbles.

Sophie sighs. ��It’s not that different, and for you, maybe it’s not different at all. Maybe….” Sophie glances around the loft. Mary follows her eyes as they bounce from the wine to the hallway to the silly bat wall decals that Ryan got from Party City and put near the TV. Sophie nods her head, as she finds her words. “Ryan loves Halloween.”

“What?”

“Stick with me.” Sophie points to the bats, then the tiny plastic pumpkins from the checkout section of Target. “Ryan loves Halloween. She decorates the whole house around it because she loves it so much. But me, I grew up in a strict Christian household where Halloween was not what we did. We did Christmas. And you….”

Mary follows again. “We did a mix. Christmas and Hanukkah.”

Sophie winces. “Okay, a mix of holidays. You’re not strictly a one holiday kind of girl. And that’s fine.”

Mary glances back to the Halloween decorations. “So, in this metaphor—”

“It might be time to celebrate Halloween. Maybe you’ll love it. Maybe you’ll hate it. But it’s October now, so, get a costume, grab a pumpkin, and tell her how you feel.”

Okay. Mary can do that. Mary can totally do that. If she can handle Alice imploding her entire life in front of the whole world, then she can tell her roommate that she has a crush on her.

Maybe.

Someday.

When she’s ready.

“Can we, uh, work our way up to Halloween? I feel like I’m still hearing fireworks.”

Sophie grins at her. “Of course. We’ll go at your speed. And if you have any questions?”

Mary picks back up her wine glass and knocks back nearly half of it. “I’ll ask you. Or Parker. She’s incredibly knowledgeable for a teenager.” She probably wouldn’t use such convoluted metaphors either. It’s a win-win really. Great, last time Mary saw Parker, they were watching the lesbian drama; now Mary will be a part of it. Ugh. "I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Oh, absolutely not. Hey, Mary?" Sophie waits until Mary's turned her steadily narrowing gaze to her. "Never have I ever had a crush on Batwoman."

Mary flips Sophie off.

🦇

#mary hamilton #ryan wilder #mary x ryan #hamilbat #maryan #batwoman fic #mine #batwoman: s2 #batwoman: 213 #sophie moore #this was fun and then sad and then fun again. good times.#and they were roommates #and good night!

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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Hello. Your writing is very capturing. I spent last night on reading all your stuff and here I am, in your ask box. Especially the illiterate!Geralt is a good read. I saw a few hc about the witchers being unsettled by Jaskier being well... Jaskier and with no fear approach them and talk to them. After a while they started wondering if Jaskier is a human, but they can't smell magic on him. What he really is? How he managed to fool a witcher?

Welcome to my ask box Nonnie, it is a delight to have you here! Even better, you bring a prompt that has my little heart singing because writing about Jaskier and all the witchers is something I am rapidly falling in love with. So thank you, you have truly made my day.

While the continent was big, it was still rather limited in terms of numbers of contracts. So it was only natural that from time to time Geralt bumped into a fellow witcher. Sometimes he got there first, other times there was only a drink at a tavern to be had and maybe some quiet company if it was a fellow wolf he encountered. The perk of having Jaskier alongside him was that even if he missed out on a contract, Jaskier could earn their keep and food if coin was short. So there was no longer a vicious competition between him and other witchers which was such a nice change of pace. There was no worry that if he got to a contract late, he would have to spend the next however many nights in the woods and hunting for food because he couldn’t afford a meal at a tavern.

Sometimes Geralt would still be in the stable with Roach while Jaskier went ahead to get them a room and some food. Which was how Geralt walked into the inn and frowned when Jaskier wasn’t visible at the bar. Looking around, he wasn’t too difficult to spot, sitting opposite...Eskel?! Pleasant surprise flooded Geralt at the sight of a fellow wolf and he walked over. Already, Jaskier seemed to have made a new friend in the form of the other witcher and was chattering away, demanding details from a fight. He even looked horrified when he spotted the bloody bandage peeking out from under Eskel’s sleeve.

“Oh you poor thing,” Jaskier was reaching for Eskel’s arm without any hesitation and Geralt saw the surprise from the other witcher. Hell, he could even smell the suspicion and confusion coming off him.

“Maybe this would be better done in a room than where people might be trying to enjoy some food,” Geralt suggested. “Not everyone can eat after seeing a bloody arm.”

“Yes! Have a bath called up for us, would you?” Jaskier looked at Geralt with a smile before turning back to Eskel and guiding him up atairs. “And don’t forget to have dinner brought up too!”

By the time Geralt got to the room, Jaskier had gently bullied Eskel into showing the wyvern bite to him and was fussing over it. Above Jaskier’s head, Eskel sought out Geralt’s gaze with confusion.

Later that night, Geralt had a rather interesting conversation with Eskel, mostly consisting of “he doesn’t even smell of fear” to which the only reply was “he never did”.

They parted ways and Jaskier made sure Eskel had plenty of supplies and coin, sharing what he could of his own despite protestations.

Funnily enough, Lambert was next. Once again, Geralt had been preoccupied, this time he was sharpening his swords when the music died down sooner than expected. However, there was no sound of fighting or arguing so obviously Jaskier hadn’t gotten himself into trouble. Yet. When he didn’t go upstairs to their room, Geralt decided to venture down to make sure nothing untoward was happening. Like that time Jaskier had convinced the whole tavern to play some kind of strip card game that Geralt still didn’t understand and, quite frankly, didn’t really want to either.

The sight that greeted Geralt was both better and worse than anything he could have anticipated. Jaskier was in the corner, sitting at a table and opposite him was Lambert. Who was pressed up against the wall like a cornered cat and staring at Jaskier in horror and disgust while the bard talked his ear off. He seemed to be utterly oblivious to the fact Lambert looked ready to bolt.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted and there was a visible drop in anxieties.

“Geralt. This is-”

“Jaskier, I know. He’s with me.” Turning to Jaskier, Geralt pulled his coin pouch out. “Charm the barkeep into three strong ales, would you?”

As soon as Jaskier was away from the table, Lambert was leaning closer.

“What the hell is wrong with him? He just walked up to the table, sat down and started talking! He does realise we’re witchers, right?” He gestured towards Jaskier’s back. Geralt’s sigh of “yes” didn’t seem to help. Lambert ranted on. “I can do monsters, creatures and spirits. But whatever that is, it’s not human and it scares the shit out of me. Not even an whiff of fear or hesitation.”

“It’s just Jaskier. He’s friendly.” Geralt shrugged. He’d been there, the confusion and distrust at the absolute lack of any negative reaction from Jaskier. But he’d grown used to it.

“You keep the contract, I’m skipping out.” Lambert made to move and got almost to the door when Jaskier got back to the table and called his name. Like a dog caught stealing a sausage, Lambert slunk back sheepishly. At least he got ale out of it even if he had to sit through the most terrifying conversation of his life. Jaskier could talk, he’d give him that.

By morning, Lambert was gone and Jaskier pouted at the fact he couldn’t bid farewell to his newest friend properly.

Last but not least was Vesemir who they encountered on a dusty road between nameless towns.

“I’ve heard of you,” he told Jaskier who had been prancing around as he played his newest song. It had been stuck in his head for days, taking shape and now he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Alas I have not been granted similar privileges. Please forgive me, darling grey wolf. I am ignorant not through lack of interest but rather lack of sources.” Jaskier cast Geralt a side glance.

He was treated to a long, hard look by Vesemir who also took a subtle sniff of the air as he took a step closer to Jaskier. “They were right.”

Who the mysterious “they” were and what they were right about was a mystery to Jaskier but he wasn’t going to get answers because Vesemir nodded at them. “See you for the winter.”

As he turned to continue his path, Jaskier shouted after him. “Just a small token for our brief yet passionate meeting!” With that, he presented Vesemir a handkerchief in a flourish. Once again, the old witcher’s eyes drifted to Geralt before taking the offering, tucking it into his armour and turning with a nod.

“So, where are we going for winter?” Jaskier asked, hopping a lttle to catch back up with Geralt.

Kaer Morhen. That was the answer and Jaskier excitedly bustled through the doors. He and Geralt got set up in a room before making their way down to the others.

“Friends!” Jaskier yelled, arms in the air as he took in the three familiar witchers. “It is so good to see you again.”

He went around to hug all the witchers to varying degrees of success. While Eskel returned the hug with a small, entertained smile, Lambert was doing his best impression of a terrified statue. For his part, Vesemir accepted the hug but wasn’t too enthused by it.

Witchers didn’t need to sleep a lot so it wasn’t all that unusual for them to gather around a fire and talk late into the night. At first, Jaskier had tried to keep up but he needed sleep and often ended up fast asleep in Geralt’s lap while the others talked.

“I’ve never met anyone like him.” Eskel nodded towards Jaskier’s sleeping form.

“Not natural,” Lambert added. He had been doing his best to keep out the way as much as possible.

Even Vesemir weighed in, “He’s certainly a rarity. There’s no magic around him. No stench of enchantment or even the scent of a beast.”

“He’s plain old human,” Geralt said. “And just seems to have no concept of self-preservation around others. But trust me, he does feel fear.”

Which was how they ended up trying to find out what did elicit a response from Jaskier. Lambert’s idea of drinking a potion and wandering around with black eyes and veins backfired somewhat when Jaskier got ready to trek out with him to the fight he was no doubt preparing for.

Inviting Jaskier to train and spar hadn’t worked out either. No matter how much Eskel threw him around, disarmed him in more and more brutal ways and held swords to his throat, not once did Jaskier ever smell anything but tired.

Nobody was prepared for the ear splitting shriek one morning. It was definitely Jaskier but he hit a pitch even Geralt was stunned by. They all went rushing to the bathroom to see what had happened. Bursting in, Jaskier was standing in the tub, suds sliding off his head and clutching a cloth to himself while Vesemir looked just as stunned, holding a basket of laundry.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

“I was merely here to hang up some clean clothes,” Vesemir replied.

“There I was,” Jaskier’s voice was still breathy with fright, “taking a nice bath and washing. Only to turn around and he was there. I’m putting a bell on you!”

The air was sour with his calming fear and, oddly, it seemed to settle the witchers. No longer was Jaskier some ethereal being without a single thing in the world that could scare him. From then on, both Lambert and Eskel seemed to take great delight in sneaking up on Jaskier and trying to scare him. There was something so soothing about knowing Jaskier could still be frightened to the point of outraged screeching. Especially when he cottoned on to the game and, once he was over the initial panic, he chased after the culprit until he could jump on their backs, smacking them playfully over the head until Geralt prised him off.

Even Lambert seemed a little more comfortable now that he knew Jaskier wasn’t infallible. By the end of winter, he was unofficially crowned winner of scaring Jaskier the most. Not that it was ever a race between him and Eskel. They absolutely didn’t have a tally hidden in the library with bonus points awarded for exceptionally memorable screams.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #vesemir #witcher wolf pack #tldr: jaskier isn't scared of witchers

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peppermint2d · 3 years

Text

F#$%ing uh, Calm after the Storm cuz the Storm Thing

Chapter 1:

When you took the job at the Essex Enquirer, you had hoped to work in your speciality, investigative war journalism. Since every taxi you tried refused to take you to Kong Studios, right now, the only war you're dealing with is the fight you're having with your GPS. The winding road, plus the rain, and the fact that your company car was ten years old caused your GPS to think you were driving in circles. Luckily, you could see your destination already. In fact, most of Essex could see Kong Studios, the haunted building on top of a great hill.

As a sort of hazing, all new employees get assigned to local entertainment news. You cringe when you heard about the guy who had to write about the mysterious appearance and subsequent disappearance of the shit statue in the city centre. Thankfully, your assignment was much tamer: you only had to interview a local band. You bought their EP "Tomorrow Comes Today" and have been blasting it on the way over. They sounded amazing, and with each repeat of the record, you became more and more excited to talk to them.

But with each kilometre you drive closer to Kong, you become more and more nervous about the surroundings. The heavy rain that was coming in was not helping anything either. There were thunderstorm warnings for that weekend, but it wasn't supposed to be for another day, so you hope the rain will let up soon for some outdoor shots of the band. You stop your car in front of the gothic gates that spelt "Kong" out in the metal bars. You push on them and they do not budge. You see a little intercom box and press the button, a loud buzz signalling that the thing still worked.

"Huh? Who's there?" A gruff voice answered your call.

"Hi. Mr Niccals? I'm here for the interview."

He grumbled. "Right, yeah. Forgot about that." Another buzz punctuated his sentence and signalled the opening of the doors.

You were soaked to the bones as you finished the drive up to Kong. You couldn't tell if your shivers were because of the fact that you were cold or because of the fact that you were driving through a cemetery.

You park your car and rush under the cover of the doorway with your camera and notepad. You knock on the double doors, and although you let your host know you were there earlier, it was a couple minutes before he even opened the door, shirtless, which you filed away to be included in your article.

His eyes looked you up and down "So you're the reporter, eh? I figured they'd over some crazy bat for local news, but I guess I'm special, right?" He smirked at you, his eyes hungry.

"I suppose so. May I?" You gesture to the doorway that he was blocking.

He stepped out of the way, closing the door after you. "I could give you a tour and find the rest of the band?"

"Was I unexpected? I'm so sorry." You flush. Your first assignment and your boss forgot to tell your subjects. How professional.

"It's alright, pet. We get so many journalists that we are always prepared." He slung his arm around your shoulders, leading you around the ground floor.

"So, Mr Niccals, how did you come to own Kong?"

He frowned. "Call me Murdoc, babes. Mr Niccals is my father."

"Right, sorry, Murdoc?"

He hummed, "Just like that." He cleared his throat. "I found it online about two years ago. It was supposed to be a short-term thing, but the owners, they just threw me the keys and left. So I figured I was the owner then. The bowling alley is right in here, by the way." You hurriedly scribbled what he said down.

Your interview continued like that, you asking questions ( "Have you been in any other bands?") and Murdoc answering them ( "Loads. None quite matched my skill though.") while you walked from room to room ( "Here's the recording studio. Found that pelt myself, I really think it brings the room together.") and took notes (Murdoc does not wear deodorant and should).

"Here's the best room of the house. Our very own carpark."

"An eighteenth-century mansion has a carpark?" you asked in disbelief.

He led you inside the space. "I think the biker gang put it in. Crazy bastards. At least now I have a spot for my Winnebago! Want to see it?"

"I'm fine, Murdoc. I don't need to see your private quarters for the article."

"Who said anything about it being for the article? I have real Egyptian silk, mmmm." He started to lead you to his Winnebago.

You stopped walking with him, causing him to stop as well. "Interview first, yeah?" You didn't know any other way of turning him down without running the risk of him cancelling the interview altogether. You start to head over to a doorway that you thought led back upstairs.

"Those go to dents-for-eyes' room. This way takes us upstairs, pet." You climbed the stairs with him. "Up here's really only the kitchen, lounge, and Noodle and Russel's rooms."

He was right, the stairs led directly into the kitchen. All of the rest of the band was gathered there, huddled around a stack of pizza boxes. "Oi! Where did the pizza come from?"

"We ordered it when you were playing dress-up." One of the band members said, and judging by his accent, he was from America.

Murdoc stomped. "I was not playing dress-up! I was trying on costumes for the show!"

You got out your notebook and wrote that down. You could feel the attention of the band on you now. "Oh sorry, I'm here to interview you!"

"Oh, cool. I'm Russel," The American said, "that's Noodle," he pointed at a child who was claiming an entire pizza pie for herself, "and the blue one's 2D."

"Konichiwa!"

"Nice to meet yew!"

You smiled back and greeted them both. The blue one, 2D, was certainly blue, or at least his spikey hair was. His eyes, on the other hand, were pitch black, none of the whites of his eyes was visible. It gave him a unique look and you wonder if it was done intentionally.

Noodle picked up a slice and was about to eat it when you said "I hate to interrupt dinner, but if you could pose for some pictures before you eat, I would really appreciate it. None of that pizza sauce on your faces."

Noodle grumbled but complied, putting the pizza down.

"Where'd yew want the photos?" 2D asked.

You look at Murdoc. "Would it be alright if we take them in the studio?" He shrugged his shoulders and led the way downstairs.

The band posed like they were in the middle of performing. The only issue was that 2D was so tall, that, from your angle, he covered Russel. You spent a little bit of time repositioning them until it was perfect. Just as you were about to take the photo, the lights in the studio went out. The lights everywhere went out.

"A bleeding outage? Right now?" Murdoc fumed.

"I'm sure it will turn on again soon, in the meantime, I guess you can get back to dinner." From somewhere in the darkness, Noodle cheered. "But someone is going to have to help me out of here, I can't see anything."

"You and 2D" Russel chuckled.

Only Murdoc had a phone on him, so he used it to light the way. It especially came in handy when everyone grabbed their food and sat at the table. Murdoc sat at the head, of course, with Noodle and Russel on one side, and you and 2D on the other. Everyone started to eat and you watched them all, mentally taking notes on their habits. You were not surprised that Murdoc chewed with his mouth open. What did surprise you was that the other men actually used their napkins properly.

"'ave yew 'ad dinner? Would yew like some?" 2D offered some of his pizza to you, but you declined. You were bound to get home soon anyway and it would just be unprofessional to eat your guest's food.

"She doesn't need your pizza, Face Ache, she will be getting plenty of my sausage tonight." Murdoc snickered, but no one else at the table joined him.

You awkwardly cleared your throat. "Would you guys be okay with answering some questions while you eat?" They all hummed in agreement while they ate. "So how did you all meet?"

The table became a little tense and all of the members looked at Murdoc. He set his pizza down. "I met 2D first, hit him with a car. Then he joined my band."

"Tell the 'ole story." 2D grumpily persisted.

"Fine. My buddies and I were looking for some keyboards. We crashed into where 2D worked and I hit his eye, proper breaking the thing and sent him into a coma. I had to oversee the poor little mutt as my punishment. I took him to a Tesco and was pulling some wicked tricks that the girls loved. Apparently one of my doughnuts was too fast because 2D went flying through the windshield and hit his face on the curb, breaking the other eye. When he stood up, he was so powerful, I knew I had to have him in my band."

"I 'ad no choice in the matter."

"As if you would say no."

As they start arguing over 2D's involvement, you were still processing the story you heard. Murdoc doesn't seem to be the best person. Murdoc doesn't seem to even be a good person. He seems actively dangerous, and you don't want to be around him longer than you need to. You make note of the whole story and add in a personal note to look up his criminal record.

"So, Russel, how did you join Gorillaz?"

"Murdoc kidnapped me."

That's really not helping his case. "Please tell me that Murdoc had nothing to do with Noodle's joining?"

"Nah, she just randomly showed up one day in a FedEx crate. Played the best guitar I've ever heard and only said her name. Everything else is just Japanese." Russel looked over to Noodle, who nodded, understanding exactly what you guys were talking about.

This was certainly some band. You ask a couple more questions, as required by your boss. "Which song on the EP is your favourite?" "Tomorrow Comes Today." "When can we expect a full album?" "Soon." "Are you surprised by the attention you're receiving?" Murdoc, of course, thought he deserved more, but the other members were much more humble.

After you finish that up, you tell them to pretend like you're not there to get a grasp of their dynamics. They eventually went back into their normal rhythm of banter, but that doesn't stop 2D from trying to include you in their conversation.

They finish their food and 2D gets his portable DVD player and puts on some zombie movie. You're surprised that they let Noodle watch it considering how young she is, but she seems the most enthusiastic. You don't join them on the couch, opting for the floor where the light from the player illuminated their faces. Since you didn't get a picture, you may need to have a drawing instead. You're nearly done when Murdoc announces a piss break and gets up, Noodle and Russel, grabbing snacks.

2D stayed behind on the couch. "Yew know, yew make funny faces when yew draw."

"You were watching me? Oh god, that's embarrassing."

"Seen dis movie loads before, so I got bored and 'ave been watchin you the 'ole time. Sorry, I forget about the 'ole no pupils fing. Freaks people out. Nofing up 'ere to remember that wif though." He gestures to his head.

"No, no, no you're good! I was just too busy drawing to pay attention." you laugh and try to play it off. In reality, it did startle you a bit initially to learn he was staring at you, but honestly, you don't mind and just got to get better at guessing where his focus is.

He smiles wide, showing off his missing teeth, and it lits up the room as if the generators were back on. "Soda?" You nod.

2D and the rest of the band return to the couch, having to wait for Murdoc who apparently has a bladder the size of a horse. He hands you your soda, peeps a glance at your drawing, and gives you a thumbs-up of approval.

You drink the soda and start penning what you think your article may look like. However, the sugar high fades quickly and you're exhausted.

Sharp pain in your side wakes you up and you yelp. You hear the band laugh at what's happened, everyone, except for Murdoc who is groaning on the floor beside you. "Bloody 'ell! What the fuck are you doing on the floor?"

You gulp. "Sleeping?"

"You can do that in my Winnebago with me instead of on the ground, love," Murdoc suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I'll settle for the couch over the ground, if you don't mind me staying over that is. So, where are your duvets?" The band members look around and collectively shrug. "No blankets... I'll just suffer the cold."

"My offer still stands." It did sound slightly better now, but the prospect of him also being there upset you.

"I can survive the cold for one night." Famous last words.

It was freezing in Kong Studios. Your teeth were chattering and you couldn't feel your toes. It's been like this since you woke up after only sleeping an hour.

How are you supposed to warm up? You tried exercising, which was good until you sweated a little and that cooled to ice. Now you're even colder than before. Perfect.

You start to walk around, trying to warm up and think. You couldn't start a fire, not only do you not know how to start a fire, but you also do not want to burn the studio down. And they didn't have blankets... but maybe they have big coats?

You retrace your steps from the tour of the place, heading to where you hope was their rooms. You really only remember trying to get Murdoc to stop leading you back to his Winnebago. You inadvertently walked to the carpark since it was really the only place you could remember to navigate in the dark. Kong Studios certainly didn't feel homey before the lights went out and now the hairs on the back of your neck are standing on edge.

It was pitch black in the hallway, so you ran your hand along one of the walls, yelping every time it touched the edge of a picture frame. You feel the wall take a right and you follow it down, seeing a sliver of light emitting from under a door. Light? Such an unfamiliar sight now. You pray that it was not the bathroom with Murdoc and scented candles inside as you gently knock on the door. You would even prefer Noodle, who would be the worst suited to help you, than Murdoc. The light is certainly coming from a scented candle. A heady scent of vanilla has slipped under the door and is extending into the hallway. Your knock received no answer so you tried again, this time louder.

Louder.

At this point, any louder and you would have woken up the other members. So, you open the door a creak to peek inside.

What a sight to behold. The light from the candle made 2D's hair shine a bright azure and cast huge shadows on his far wall as he danced to his cassette tape. His dancing was awful but endearing; he looked like a baby dear that was still getting used to using its limbs. Abruptly, he stopped and you thought he finally noticed you, but then he rushed over to the papers by the candle and wrote something down, which you could only assume was a lyric.

Without any warning, he looked up and made eye contact with you. You stared at his black eyes, waiting for him to say something. He hummed and crossed out a part of the writing.

You had watched him for long enough, so you knocked again, which gained his attention. "Noodle? Is that yew?"

You opened the door further, "No, uh sorry to bother you so late..."

He began to tidy up the papers he was working on, tucking them behind him. "Hiya! What can I do for yew? Got more questions?"

You're so glad that he didn't mind your intrusion. His light smile put you at ease. "Yeah, I suppose I have one. You don't have anything to keep warm with? Like a jacket maybe?" You were surprised that he wasn't bothered by the cold, only wearing a T-shirt over a thin long-sleeved shirt.

"Oh. Yew cold? I might 'ave somefin! May swallow you 'ole though." His voice cracked as he spoke as he started digging through the piles of clothes on the floor, looking for something. He pulled out a blue jacket, not unlike the colour of his hair, and held it out. "This is one of me favourites! I fink it looks punk, don't yew?" You nod. It did indeed look wicked. "Go on, put it on! I would like it back when yew're done, if that's alright." He looked so nervous asking for his own property to be returned.

You smiled warmly at him. "Of course 2D, you have my word." You slip it on, and he was right, it was way too big on you! Most noticeably in the arm length, where the edges of the sleeves hung off your arms. It was heavy and warm and smelled like cigarettes and something else, something you could only imagine as 2D. It felt like a safe hug. Maybe 2D should be nervous about you keeping it. "I see why it's your favourite."

He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. I 'ope to wear it in a music video! If Murdoc lets me, that is." At this point, he sits back down again. "Wanna stay? I've gots more zombie mofies! Like Dawn of the Dead... or Evil Dead... or Zombie Flesh Ea'ers!"

"Sure, but I'm winded." You yawn and snuggle deeper into the jacket.

"Don worry! I'll pause it if yew fall asleep." He grins and pats the ground next to him, where you join him. "Which ones 'ave you seen before?"

"None of them. Which is your favourite?"

"NONE OF 'EM? Well then, we gotta watch Dawn of the Dead, it's the first Zombi mofie!" He loads the film and puts the tiny player in front of both of you, turning off the candle to make the lighting better. "I'm so excited for yew to watch dis! It's been a couple monfs since I saw it meself."

He lets the movie play, occasionally pausing to explain why a certain scene was so impressive in horror movie history. You barely watch the film, rather you pay attention to 2D, mentally tracing the look of excitement on his face and committing his hand gestures to memory. You never know what may be important for your article.

#2d gorillaz #2d stuart pot #2d x reader #stuart pot x reader #2d fanfiction #gorillaz fanfiction #gorillaz fandom #phase 1 #stuart pot

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trekkiepirate · 4 years

Text

Master of All

My Witcher Secret Santa gift for @motionalocean! @thewitchersecretsanta

Crossposted to AO3 HERE

nearly 9.2K of BAMF!Jaskier and Geralt being progressively more smitten. 5 Times Jaskier Is Good At Things Geralt Didn't Expect And The 1 Thing He Knew Jaskier Was Good At. PG-13 for bad words, canon-typical violence, and the +1 Under cut because it’s hella long.

1. Pickpocketing

“Well,” Jaskier huffed, “I sincerely hope you missed one of those ghouls and they come back and eat this whole rotten village. Starting with that alderman. No, starting with his appalling son who has the AUDACITY to claim he was a better singer than me. My gods, Geralt, I don’t even think I’ll complain of the lack of a roof and a bed this evening. Sleeping under the stars with my very dear friend-“

“-not friends,” Geralt huffed.

The interruption entirely ignored by Jaskier. “-who is twice, thrice, no no no ten, a hundred, a THOUSAND times the man that they could ever dream of being. Asking a man-“

“-not a man,” Geralt said, expecting, correctly, Jaskier would ignore this comment too.

Jaskier, instead, whirled and looked at Geralt like he had punched him. Actually, he looked more upset than when Geralt has, in fact, punched him. “Of course you’re a man.” Jaskier tilted his head. “Well, I cannot say for certain as I have not yet seen you… in a state of undress. Though not that the having of a penis makes one a man. It’s more about your own identity-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed, sliding two now-skinned hares onto sticks over the fire.

“You’re a man because that’s who you tell the world you are.”

“I don’t.”

It seemed only every other sentence was going to get through Jaskier’s tirades as he stopped speaking.

For a few blissful seconds. “Geralt,” Jaskier put his hands on his hips, voice exasperated as if he were a teacher who expected better of his pupil. “Geralt,” he said again, “you are the best man I have ever met. Smarter than any scholar, kinder than any priest, more noble than any titled twat.”

Geralt blinked. Jaskier seemed so sincere. “We’ve just met.”

“Right, well, we’ve actually been traveling together for four months, but I imagine time feels different when you’re basically immortal, so we’ll let that slide.”

A frown twisted Geralt’s face. “You’re young. You can’t have met that many people.”

Jaskier pursed his lips and put on what he called his Viscount voice. Though why he’d pretend to be a Viscount was beyond Geralt. “I studied for years at the most prestigious and widely attended university on the Continent. I have met plenty of people, Geralt. And you are still the best one I know.”

Geralt hmmed. “Your good opinion won’t buy us a roof and a bed.”

A grin like a succubus, pretty and dangerous, spread over Jaskier’s face. He reached into his trousers and produced a bag of coins. “It might do.”

The same bag of coins that the alderman had refused to give Geralt after he cleared a nest of ghouls from a field. He’d taken three crowns and told Geralt that it couldn’t be worth the whole bag if it only took him an hour.

As it was, most of that hour was building the bomb he’d need to destroy the nest. The ghouls had been sated by feeding on villagers who’d tried to kill them and were slow.

“Where-” Geralt shook his head, he knew the answer to that one. “How?”

Jaskier tossed the bag in the air and caught it. He continued doing so as he spoke. “Remember when I gestured around his, frankly gaudy and most certainly fake, prized vase?”

Geralt stared at the boy. “You distracted him by making him think you might break his vase and then stole his coin out of his pocket.”

“Exactly! Really it’s his fault for so blatantly putting the coin away while looking down his nose at you.” Jaskier grinned bright and extracted one coin from the bag before handing it to Geralt.

“Thief’s fee?” Geralt nodded at the coin.

Jaskier’s smile got even more mischievous. He balanced the coin on his thumb, then flicked it.

It hit Geralt in the chest and fell into his lap.

“Well, tossing a coin is the chorus of the song anyway,” he winked, then spun around, grabbing a cooked hare and blowing on it before taking a large bite. “They’ll see,” he said as he chewed, “my song will become a hit! ‘Toss a Coin’ will be sung the entire length and breadth of the Continent and men like that will be the pariahs, the outcasts. Anyone who denigrates a witcher will be spit upon in the streets. See how they like that!” Jaskier’s next bite was near savage, tearing the meat from the bone. But the next moment, he grinned over the fire at Geralt. “And until it does become a hit and you are lauded as the hero you are, and don’t say you’re not a hero, I see your mouth opening and you can very well shut it again for all the credence I’m going to give you saying you’re not a hero.” He gestured wildly with his hare, grease dripping slowly down his hand and forearm, on display since he’d rolled up the sleeves as his chemise on such a warm night.

Geralt found his next breath a little harder to take as he stared at the bare forearm. He hmmed and took up his own meal.

“So until that day, I will gladly make sure you are properly paid for your work,” he waggled the fingers of his left hand at Geralt. “One way or another.”

“Don’t get caught,” Geralt said. “I won’t break you out of any jail cell you land in.”

Jaskier laughed. “That is a bald-faced lie. You did the exact thing two towns ago and that wasn’t even me risking my freedom and safety for you to be given all you deserve.”

Geralt looked up at Jaskier, then quickly back to his hare when he found the expression on Jaskier’s face too… too much like something warm settling in his stomach. He ate the rest of the hare as fast as he could.

No one had ever said Geralt deserved anything. Not anything nice, anyway. But Jaskier seemed to think that Geralt was a kind of hero in a tale and wanted him to be treated as such.

Fool’s errand, he thought. Jaskier was young and didn’t know how the world worked outside of the high walls of a university. He’d learn. Until then…

“Fine.”

Having gone back to eating, Jaskier was silent for a moment as if trying to recall where the conversation was picking up from. “What’s fine? Oh! Me stealing when people refuse to pay you your just wage. Of course it’s fine. Don’t worry your pretty head for a moment; I’ve never been caught yet.” He waggled his fingers in Geralt’s direction. “Dexterity is name of the game when one spends one’s life dedicated to possibly the most delicate and finnicky instrument known to man.” He looked down at his gifted elven lute like it was his flesh and blood child, so loving and soft.

When he raised his head and looked at Geralt, his adoring expression didn’t change in the least.

Geralt cleared his throat and threw the hareless stick onto the fire. ‘Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

A few more large bites and Jaskier did as he was told, snuggling into his bedroll. Which Geralt had bought him when Jaskier proved that no amount of silence or disinterest would keep him from staying at Geralt’s side, praising every deed in song. He picked up the bag of coin and wandered over to Roach to tuck it safely in her saddlebag.

The horse nickered softly and seemed to throw her head repeatedly in Jaskier’s direction.

“Don’t get attached,” Geralt scolded.

Roach tilted her head in Jaskier’s direction and kept it there.

Geralt sighed and whispered into the still night air. “Thank you, Jaskier.” He patted Roach, now seemingly satisfied, and made his way to his own bedroll, set a bit behind Jaskier’s so the bard was close to the warm fire and that anything that leapt at them from the woods would have to get through Geralt before it could get to Jaskier.

He laid there, thinking about how quickly making sure the boy warm and safe had become a priority.

2. Knowing Who The Nobles Are Everywhere They Go

“Nope,” Jaskier plucked the sun-faded paper from Geralt’s hand, ignoring Geralt’s exasperated expression. “Oh no, no, no, no. Nope, you will not be taking this. Well, you will not be taking this contract with Duke Hereward. He’s an absolute bastard and will quite surely stiff you of your deserved coin. No, we’d best find where,” he squinted at the ink, “Meadwood Farms is and go straight to the farmers themselves. Hereward will weasel his weasely way out of giving you anything. I’d gladly steal anything he might have of worth-“

Geralt glanced around, hoping no one who worked for the Duke was listening, as Jaskier did not seem to understand what the word ‘discretion’ meant.

“-alas the double-edged sword of fame means if something were to go mysteriously but deservedly missing after we took our leave, I’d find my lovely new position as a professor at Oxenfurt suddenly taken from me.” He smiled at Geralt. “I need something to do during the winter while you hide away in your Witchery mountains to do… mountainous Witchery things.”

Suppressing the urge to smile, Geralt nodded towards the inn. “I’m sure someone will know who owns the farm in there.”

Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s arm and began to drag him (well, steer him as if Geralt had truly not wanted to be led, there was no way the boy, barely into his twenties, could move him) towards the inn. “Good people of Ellander!”

“Jaskier,” Geralt nearly rolled his eyes.

“Your prayers to the Great Meletile have been answered,” Jaskier continued. “Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf himself, has come to aid you with your monster problems. Merely point us to Meadwood Farms and you shall soon see why Geralt is the hero of the Continent.”

Geralt was strangely glad his body no longer had the ability to blush. Jaskier’s absolute faith in Geralt was steadfast and it made something heavy and warm settle in Geralt’s chest. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be able to feel this way, to be so… cared about.

A pretty-eyed maiden made her way over to them. She smiled brightly at Jaskier. “I work at the farm. I’d be ever so glad to lead you… and the witcher there.”

The eye rolling couldn’t be controlled this time, as Jaskier immediately brightened under her attentions. “Well lead on, good miss. I presume it’s miss?”

“It is,” she giggled.

Geralt was rather glad they barely paid any heed to him as they flirted their way across town to the countryside. “What is it?” Geralt eventually asked.

Both Jaskier and the young woman, Elzbet apparently, startled as if they’d forgotten Geralt was still there. They probably had.

“The monster,” Geralt clarification. “What is it?”

Elzbet shrugged. “I didn’t see it. I do not know. Master Prospero was the one who saw it. He’s in the big house.”

Jaskier grinned. “Yes, yes, Geralt head up to see Master Prospero. Elzbet has promised to show me a most charming little corner of the barn. Apparently, there’s an owl’s nest there.”

Geralt would turn over every coin he received for the contract if there was actually an owl’s nest anywhere in the barn. All Jaskier was likely to see was up the girl’s skirts. Stomping away with a little more force than he probably needed to use, Geralt found the farm owner and got the information he needed.

It was a nest of nekkars and Geralt has cleared them all out by that night. The reward scraped together by the workers was only a third of what Hereward had promised, but it was given in gratitude and with open hands. Prospero himself was so grateful, he offered Geralt and Jaskier a room in his home for the night, as well as their dinner that night and breakfast the next morning.

Jaskier spent most of the night trying to find a suitably dirty rhyme he approved of for owl.

“Howl. Or yowl, which I will make you do if you do not put that candle out.” Geralt said at last.

“Oh you,” Jaskier tsked as he quickly scribbled down a few more lines. “You know what that Witchery magic does to me.” He winked.

Geralt buried his head further into the pillow. “Didn’t get enough with your farm girl?”

Jaskier gasped, affronted. “Excuse you, Elzbet is more than a farm girl, she is the love of my life.” He sighed dreamily. “I might stay, you know. With her.”

“Better her than me,” Geralt grumbled.

“I know you don’t truly mean those words or I’d be heartbroken beyond repair to hear you say that,” Jaskier shrugged out of his doublet and pinched out the candle flame between his licked fingers. “But what if I did? Stay?”

Geralt huffed. “You’d make a piss poor farmer.”

Jaskier laughed lightly. “Probably true.” He sighed. “Would you miss me?”

“Go to sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt said in lieu of an actual answer. “If you’re to be a farmer, you must get used to early mornings.”

Humming thoughtfully, Jaskier settled down, the line of his back just an inch away from Geralt’s in the bed. “Good night, Geralt.”

In the morning, Jaskier packed and took his place at Geralt’s side. He tried out lyrics and chords and by the time he and Geralt made camp that night, Jaskier had a new ballad. It was about love between a wanderer and a maiden, whom he loved but left to follow the open road he had long ago promised his heart to, his truest love.

Though he never actually sang the word road, Geralt realized as he watched Jaskier sing it a week later in a tavern. The song itself was called Walking The Path.

3. Gwent

“Dammit,” Geralt growled as he threw down his remaining card. A clear weather was useless when there were no weather cards in effect. The score was tied, but his opponent played with a Nilfgaardian deck and therefore won all ties.

The smarmy git was smiling at him like a smarmy git. “Fair is fair,” he held out a hand, “I’ll be taking your unique card now.”

It was lying next to the card the other man had anted up in the center of the table, but clearly humiliation was part of his winnings.

Geralt picked up the card and dropped it into the other man’s hand. “Here.”

“Better luck next time,” the bastard called out and he gestured another player to take Geralt’s place.

He still had all the coin he’d won, the cards had been the only prizes in that last round, so Geralt went over to the bar and ordered two ales and a glass of wine.

By the time he was picking up the second mug of ale, Jaskier had finished his set and bounded over, downing the wine in one go as always and ordering himself another.

“What’s this face? Is my singing truly that bad? Please know, if you say anything about pie, I will be forced to waste this lovely wine on your rude head.” Geralt grunted. “Singing was fine. Lost my game is all.”

Jaskier tilted his head. “You were winning when I last checked in on you.” He looked at his glass. “Do you need some coin? I got a fair amount tonight, people around here are very anti-Nilfgaard and my lovely little ditty went a treat. You must have heard the cheers.”

Geralt nodded. He had. In between games, he’d kept his eye on Jaskier. The djinn incident was two weeks ago, but this was Jaskier’s first performance since he almost lost his voice. And life.

The bard had been nervous and Geralt hadn’t even started playing gwent until the anxious scent faded into his usual confident burst of sundried linen and mint. The crowd was just as adoring, just as loud as always. Jaskier’s voice hadn’t suffered any permanent damage and Geralt was relieved. After all, his unthinking words had been the reason Geralt had almost lost… that Jaskier had almost lost his voice.

“Not coin,” Geralt said at last, draining his mug. “Lost my best card though. Drew an unlucky hand and couldn’t seem to bring it back around. Ended in a draw, but the bastard played as Nilfgaard so he took the tie.”

Jaskier frowned. “No chance to get it back?”

Geralt shrugged. “He plays here a lot, apparently. Has rules about only one match per opponent.” He shook his head. “Nothing for it.”

Putting down his half full glass, Jaskier nodded. “Right, well then.” He turned and headed towards the tables set up for cards.

“Jaskier?” Geralt blinked at the space the bard had occupied a second ago. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier was already standing in front of the bastard.

Geralt couldn’t remember his name, wasn’t even sure he’d been told who he’d been playing against.

Jaskier’s relaxed ease was gone, instead his shoulders hunched up, making him look for all the world like an angry cat about to take a chunk out of the next person who tried to pet it. “Valdo Marx,” Jaskier hissed out like the very letters of the name offended him.

Huh. Geralt looked at the man who’d defeated him.

Valdo looked up with a beatific smile. “Julian, is that you? I did think I heard your particular brand of empty words and trite notes in that boyish tenor of yours.”

Now no longer just upset about the card, Geralt’s fingers twitched towards his sword. Sure, he’d not exactly complimented Jaskier’s songs recently, but his insult was born of trying to offend the man into shutting up so Geralt could find the damnable djinn and get some fucking sleep.

Which, looking back, was a useless attempt as Jaskier had been drunk and Drunk Jaskier was even more prone to rambling than Sober Jaskier.

“Normally, I’d be quite glad to just punch you in the nose,” Jaskier smirked, “again.”

Taking a closer look, Geralt did notice that Valdo’s nose was slightly crooked. As if broken a few too many times.

“But if seems you have some pretentious rule about not allowing people to win their losings back from you like an honourable gentleman would.” Jaskier crossed his arms. “So I’ll play you for Geralt’s card.”

Valdo blinked blankly. “Geralt?”

Jaskier clucked his tongue as he sat down. “My goodness, you are out of touch. Everyone on the Continent knows I sing of Geralt of Rivia, heroic Witcher of legend and my very best friend in the whole world.”

Geralt didn’t bother to object.

“Then again, you rarely get to leave Cidaris, don’t you?” Jaskier produced his gwent deck and began to shuffle it. “I often wonder how you’d do in a town you didn’t grow up in? But then your father’s money wouldn’t be there to buy you a court position now would it? Has he bought you a title yet?”

Though Jaskier couldn’t see it, perhaps because Jaskier couldn’t see it, Geralt grinned broadly at that.

Valdo grinned back nastily, revealing he had a missing canine tooth as well. “If he did, at least one of us would use their title to make a difference to their homeland. Tell me, Julian,” he laid out his deck and dealt himself a hand, “when did you last visit Lettenhove? Or do you still think wandering amongst the common folk singing dirty songs in dirty taverns is the proper way a viscount should behave? Whatever would your mother day?”

Geralt watched Jaskier’s grip on his own hand tighten, just slightly. “Just play, Marx.”

Huh. Apparently Jaskier wasn’t making the whole viscount thing up.

“Oh now now,” Valdo laid down his hand, “we haven’t set terms yet. You want the Witcher’s card, right? This one,” he picked it up and flipped it along the back of his hand. “But what will you bet? I never play for anything as gauche as coin. Some of us get wages, not a handful of coins in a dusty lute case. Actually,” Valdo leaned forward, “that’s what we’ll play for. Your pretty lute. See if you can perform in royal courts without your maaaagical little instrument.”

“No.”

Jaskier and Valdo both snapped their attention to Geralt.

“No,” he repeated. Jaskier’s lute was his livelihood, his most precious possession. Geralt wanted his card back, but not at that price. Jaskier was a clever player, Geralt knew, but Valdo’s deck was evil, full of spies and scorch cards. “Not the lute. Choose something else.”

Valdo shook his head. “Don’t think I will,” he turned back to Jaskier. “You bet your lute or I walk away and your witcher never sees his card again.”

Geralt put a hand out to grab Jaskier’s shoulder and urge him up to their room, but Jaskier just nodded. “It’s a bet. Play, Marx.”

Worry came over Geralt and he found himself pacing behind Jaskier, trying not to look at his cards because then he’d know if Jaskier had a good hand and if he didn’t…

If Jaskier lost his lute, he’d be crushed. Geralt would buy him another; he’d have to. But to lose the lute Filavandrel had given him… Jaskier always said it brought him luck, sounded sweeter than all others, even when slightly out of tune.

“It will always remind me of the day my life changed forever,” he’d smile at it, then at Geralt.

Geralt still hadn’t worked out whether he meant the day he wrote the song that made him famous or the day he learned the world was much more complicated than his human-written studies might have led him to believe.

Geralt watched as Jaskier’s hand dwindled to two cards.

Valdo still had half a dozen.

It was the last hand; both had won a turn and this would decide the winner.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Geralt closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to meditate or at least clear his mind. He still had his winnings from the other matches he’d played tonight. He had no idea how much a lute cost, but he’s fairly sure he’d be able to cover it. Did this town even have a shop that might carry one? It was only just inside the borders of Cidaris, not a particularly large village now that Geralt thought about it.

“You,” he heard a hiss, “cheated.”

Jaskier was smiling. “I did no such thing. I merely used your same tactics against you.” He held out a hand. “The card. Unless you’d like to try and win it back?”

Valdo spit out some words in Elder as he threw the card at Jaskier and stomped out like a petulant child.

Geralt was rusty and only caught every few words. Something about Jaskier’s bedroom habits and something else about being a pathetic, he thinks the word was supposed to mean hound or something like that. One phrase that Geralt did catch, as he’d heard it assigned to him once or twice before translated to ‘unlovable’.

Jaskier sat frozen through the tirade and when Geralt rounded the table, he found Jaskier’s eyes to be far more full of wrath and pain than it ought to for someone who had just won a game against a rival.

His face schooled into a triumphant grin, though there was still a sheen of sadness in his eyes. “Your card, Geralt.”

Geralt took it gently, sliding out his deck into order to tuck it away. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, if I lost I was thinking of just stabbing him and making a run for it,” Jaskier waved a hand.

“It’s not that important,” Geralt insisted, ten minutes later as they readied for bed. “It wasn’t worth risking your lute. If you’d lost it. It’s more precious to you than everything, else you’ve said so yourself.”

Jaskier looked up from folding his doublet and smiled, not his cheeky performance grins but a small, genuine thing. “Not everything. Now,” he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots, “may I see the card I won from Marx in what is going to be immortalized into an incredibly epic song as soon as I come up with a rhyme for ‘thrice broken nose’?”

Geralt took it out and handed it over.

It was a fairly new card for the Northern Kingdoms deck. An ashen haired little girl pouted in a frilly pink dress, clearly displeased at being painted.

“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Princess of Cintra,” Jaskier read. He handed back the card but his hand hovered, as if he might reach out for Geralt’s shoulder or even his cheek. “Yes, this is something worth taking a risk for, no question. …15 points and all,” he said after a moment, when he realized Geralt wasn’t responded. “Course I missed the opportunity of stabbing Marx, but I’ve no doubt the chance will arise again someday.” He laid down and stared at the ceiling.

“Jaskier,” Geralt began, finding his words dry up when those beautiful (when did he start thinking of Jaskier’s eyes as beautiful?) blue eyes blinked up at him. “I… th- you played well.”

A pleased and nearly shy look came over Jaskier’s face. “I know how much you enjoy it. Just wanted to be sure I’d be a worthy opponent for you, dearest witcher.” He stared at Geralt a moment longer, as if looking for something in his face. He shook his head slightly as if coming out of a dream. “Goodnight, Geralt.” Jaskier turned and faced the wall.

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed as he laid down, facing the opposite wall. “Goodnight. Jaskier.”

4. Sailing

Geralt surveyed the people sitting around the table and frowned to notice one missing. “Where’s Jaskier?”

“Went fishing,” Eskel said off hand, jumping right back into his conversation with Coën.

“He what?”

Lambert looked up from his gwent match with Ciri, “He took my boat and went fishing. Said he wouldn’t be much help in a hunt, but this way he wouldn’t be and I quote, ‘useless’ and he could be a ‘worthy winter companion’.”

Geralt winced. He’d apologized for his harsh words on the mountain and Jaskier had forgiven him. But it seems some of the hurt from that day still lingered.

“Where did he go?”

Eskel and Lambert exchanged a look.

“I don’t know his coordinates,” Lambert answered.

“Dammit!” Geralt barely kept himself from hitting the table; he didn’t want to scare Ciri, who had put her cards down and was watching the scene with interest. “You know what’s out there. Drowners and bears and I’m not sure we entirely destroyed that harpy nest from last winter and-“

“And he assured us he could handle it,” Eskel said.

Geralt growled. “He’s human! He could get hurt.”

Coën piped up at last. “Jaskier went north from the lakeside hut.” When all eyes turned to him, Coën shrugged, “He wanted to know where the good fishing spots are. I told him.”

Spinning on his heel, Geralt headed for the door to the keep, grabbing a silver sword from a rack of them on the way. He had a location and a direction. He could pick up Jaskier’s scent from there.

Geralt hadn’t bothered to grab a coat and the winter winds bit through his leather and linen clothes almost immediately. It didn’t matter. Jaskier had been alone in the wilds for who knows how long and even without the monsters and the beasts, there were dangers. The bard could overbalance and tumble into the icy waters. What if he hadn’t thought to grab warmer clothes? Geralt picked up speed, wishing he’d thought to bring Roach. Wishing he’d thought about anything other than running to get to Jaskier and…

And he wasn’t sure what would happen after. He just… needed to know that Jaskier was all right. That he was safe. He hadn’t been safe, Geralt sighed to himself as he ran, after Geralt had snapped at him.

Geralt was sure it was just another spat; that he’d arrive back at camp and Jaskier would be there very pointedly writing a song about a heartless cad who was mean to his very best friend in the whole wide world. Jaskier had a good half dozen songs like it already, this would be one more.

Only he wasn’t there. Geralt arrived to find Roach eating the last of the apples Jaskier had packed just for her and giving Geralt a very judgmental look. “Leave off,” he growled at her as he packed up what was left and led her down the mountain. “We’ll pick him up in town and you two can whisper about how mean I am.”

But Jaskier wasn’t in town either. Nor could anyone say which way he went. Geralt cursed then like he cursed now, seeing the roof of the hut by the lake and yet no sign of Jaskier.

Bad things happened when Jaskier went off alone. Geralt shook his head to rid himself of the image of Jaskier, strung up by his hands, those beautiful talented livelihood-making hands threatened and Jaskier said nothing, gave no secrets away. Some because he didn’t know and some because he…

Geralt doesn’t know why Jaskier didn’t break, except he does. The man is brave, he’s stupid and criminally loud, but he is also the most loyal man Geralt has ever known. Steel dressed in silk.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Geralt picked up Jaskier’s scent. It’s his soap and sweat and Geralt knows it like he knows his own.

Jaskier has the only boat and Geralt doesn’t fancy a swim, so he sticks to the shoreline, eyes casting about for any signs of danger or Jaskier.

Geralt very specifically tries to avoid thinking about danger AND Jaskier, which means that is all his brain will show him. Images of Jaskier surrounded by drowners, of a boat floating listlessly because the man at the rudder had been torn to pieces by harpies, a bear raising its blood-covered maw with a scrap of bright fabric caught in its teeth.

The last thing he’s thinking is that he will come upon Jaskier peacefully hauling a net of fish into the boat, adding the larger ones to a bucket next to him. So of course, that’s how the story goes.

“Geralt?” Jaskier called, eyes as round and surprised as the fish wriggling its last throes in his hands. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”

Jaskier dropped the net thoughtlessly onto the boat’s hull and with a series of quick and efficient movements, had the boat floating over to where Geralt stood on the shore. The bard hopped over the side and hurried to Geralt, hands twitching as if he wanted to check the witcher over for any injuries. “Geralt?”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

A frown coming to rest on his face, Jaskier put his hands on his slim hips. “What was I thinking? What were you thinking? You’re going to catch your death without a coat, yes I know,” he said as Geralt opened his mouth, “witchers can’t catch colds, immune systems, mutagens, blah blah,” he went back to the boat and finished sorting the fish, “blah. What could possibly have happened that you hurried all the way from Kaer Morhen without so much as a single piece of armour or a cloak?” He turned, suddenly serious. “Is everyone all right? Is Ciri all right? She’s not ill, is she? Did she take a tumble on the training course?”

Touched by how much Jaskier cares about Ciri, despite having known her a relatively short time, Geralt shook his head. “She’s fine. Everyone is fine.”

“Then what in the name of Meletile, Freya and any other four gods you would care to name are you doing here?”

Geralt wished he’d spent less time thinking about the past and more time thinking about the future as he ran. He’s starting to get used to that feeling in general. “You weren’t there.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened, then softened. “Surely someone told you I’d gone fishing? I let everyone know. I didn’t,” he smiled sardonically, “think you’d even notice.”

“Why?”

Head tilted like a puppy, Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Why did I go fishing or why did I think you wouldn’t notice? I went fishing because everyone does something at Kaer Morhen. I don’t,” he sighed, “have anything but music to offer and I’m well aware of your opinions on that. I assume your fellow witchers share them and also your witcher hearing, hence my lute case gathers dust. I do, however, know how to sail a boat, catch some fish, and cook said fish. So I thought I would make myself useful. As for you not noticing, well, I’m hardly your first priority here and,” he quickly added, “I understand completely. I shouldn’t be. Ciri comes first, always, of course. Hell, I wasn’t your first priority when we traveled together. Roach was. Speaking of, where is she? You couldn’t have tied her up too far away now.” Jaskier looked at the tree line as if a large mare would suddenly appear.

“I… didn’t bring her,” Geralt said, shame slowly rising in him at Jaskier’s words. Geralt couldn’t refute any of them. He hadn’t noticed the lack of music, assuming Jaskier still played in his room. As for when they travelled together, it hurt deep in Geralt’s gut that Jaskier thought he wasn’t a priority to Geralt. His words were often harsh, but Geralt made sure Jaskier had enough food and hunted more to ensure that he would. He bought Jaskier a warmer, if less stylish, cloak that had seen the bard through most of his twenties.

Jaskier had hefted a bucket of fish in his arms and just stared blankly at Geralt. “You… didn’t bring Roach? You, what, walked all the way here?”

Geralt’s eye twitched. “I ran.”

“For Meletile’s sake, why?”

“There’s…” Geralt cleared his throat, “drowners around. Sometimes. And bears. There might be some harpies left over from a nest we destroyed last winter.”

Jaskier settled the bucket back into the boat. “Were you… worried about me?”

Geralt nodded. Words were awkward and he wished to use as few as possible.

A look not unlike something like wonder crossed Jaskier’s face. “Oh. I… oh. I’m,” he spread his arms as if presenting himself, “fine. As you see. I… guess we should head back.” He gestured towards the boat. “I’ve a decently sized haul. I can make use of this for a while.” Jaskier stood in the shallow water, “Climb on in, and I’ll take us back.”

Geralt didn’t move.

“Oh,” Jaskier looked abashed. “Unless you’d prefer to steer?”

“No,” Geralt shook his head. “You can steer.”

He could. As Geralt had seen, Jaskier clearly knew his way not only around fishery, but sailing.

Jaskier nodded again to the boat and Geralt stepped in, settling at the bow.

Proving him right, Jaskier shoved them into the water and hauled himself over the side, quickly settling at the rudder and turning them around to head back towards Kaer Morhen.

Geralt cast a glance into the bucket of fish, seeing a few other smaller ones surrounding it. Several fish stared unblinkingly at Geralt as he stared back.

Jaskier hummed then cut himself off when he realized he was doing so, with a nervous glance at Geralt.

He wanted to say something. Tell Jaskier the humming was fine with him. That he should get out his lute and play for them. That Geralt wanted to hear his music, his voice. That the fillingless pie comment all those years ago hadn’t been a slight to Jaskier’s singing but the content of his songs, so many full of dirty humour or exaggerated lies.

All he could manage was “You sail good.”

Staring just as wide-eyed and unblinking as the fish, Jaskier slowly said, “Thank… you… I, uh,” he looked back at the water, “grew up on the coast. Been sailing since I was strong enough to move a rudder. Fishing even longer.”

“Why didn’t you fish that day? You could have caught your own.” Geralt winced as his words were said. Jaskier wasn’t focusing on that day with the djinn. He’d need to be specific.

But Jaskier was already answering, “I was heartbroken and near blind drunk,” he laughed, light and slightly forced. “I’d have fallen in as soon as I bent over to grab the net, hence why I was hoping you would share your haul.” He pursed his lips. “Rather wish I hadn’t, looking back.”

Geralt found himself stuck for words again. They came easy with his brothers in arms. Even with Ciri, he found himself managing to find words of comfort or encouragement when it seemed she needed them.

But Jaskier had always made things complicated for Geralt, since the day they’d met. He could annoy Geralt like nobody and nothing else; Jaskier got himself into trouble on a fairly regular basis, was fussy about his clothes and hair, and could talk the hind legs off a donkey while never saying a blessed thing of worth.

But damn if Geralt didn’t want him there, in all his messy and loud glory. He wanted Jaskier safe and, as recent events had shown, Jaskier was safest at Geralt’s side, because Geralt would move heaven and earth, call upon any help and damn the cost, to keep Jaskier so.

Geralt was in love with Jaskier. The revelation felt both sudden and slow at once. Like he’d been falling in love so quietly and steadily, there was no way to point to the day or hour that he’d actually fallen.

“Fuck.”

Jaskier, lost in daydreams, started. “What’s the matter now?”

“I,” Geralt scrambled for something to say. Should he tell Jaskier he loved him? No, that was absurd. Jaskier, for all his lingering stares and the near constant scent of lust that used to surround him, didn’t love Geralt as more than a friend, if that. Lust was not love, Geralt knew that well. He was with him for the songs and the safety. Sure, Jaskier cared for Geralt, he said it often enough, but he didn’t love him. Like how Geralt was realizing he loved Jaskier.

Who was staring at him expectantly.

At least this time, Geralt kept his annoyed at himself ‘fuck’ inside his head. “I was thinking of all the times we could have taken the river, instead of the roads.” He found words, though he wasn’t sure they were the right ones. “If I’d known you could sail. We could have… sailed. Before now.”

Jaskier dropped his eyes to the bottom of the boat, then turned away as if needing to check where he was going, as if he hadn’t been steering blind for the past several minutes, instinctive. “Ah. I’m sorry. Maybe I should have told you. Though we weren’t often by the,” a slight hesitation, “the coast.”

“You’re doing very well.” Geralt twitched his lips into as big a smile as he could manage and still felt it came up short.

But Jaskier’s visible cheek rose in a smile. “Thank you, Geralt.”

5. Sword Fighting

A whirl of light green and silver flashed from Geralt’s side, a movement near dancelike in its fluidity, accompanied by a whisper that sounded almost like counting.

Geralt turned just in time to see the bandit’s surprised face before his cleaved straight through torso fell, leaving the remains of his trunk and his lower body to fall to the ground a couple seconds after his head and shoulders had.

Jaskier stood behind the now deceased bandit, blood splattered all over his outfit and his face, still twisted into a mask of wrath. The sword in his hand was red with blood, silver glinting through the drops.

Geralt thinks it’s possible he has never been so turned on in his whole life and he’s going to have a good long talk with himself about why that might be later on.

The moment passed and Jaskier lowered the sword, wiping it on the deserter’s trousers. “Oh blast, sorry about that Geralt, I’ll clean all the blood off properly once we get back to camp. No worries. I know it’s silver for monsters,” he sneered at the dead man and then at the others who had foolishly decided to try to rob a witcher and his companion, “but I rather think it’s still apt. I’ll pay for the repair at the next blacksmith we come across if I damaged it too much.” He held the blade at eye level and examined it. “I think it’s mostly all right and Geralt are you okay? They didn’t manage to knock you in the head, did they? You’ve been staring at me for the past few minutes.”

Geralt was trying to sear the image of Jaskier looking over the blade as if, as if he KNOWS what to look for in a damaged sword. A sword he had used to kill a man creeping up on Geralt. A sword he had welded with deadly and graceful precision. Geralt’s own sword.

A very, very long talk. Possibly in the cold stream they’d just come from before they’d been ambushed.

Jaskier leaned past Geralt to sheathe the sword into its place across the witcher’s back and the spicy smell of anger had dissipated completely into Jaskier’s usual chamomile and honey concern scent. Underlaid by the copper of the blood.

It took a good deal of self-discipline for Geralt to not outright whine when Jaskier laid a warm hand on his cheek, tilting his head to check for injuries.

“Your pupils are very round, darling,” Jaskier said, the endearment he used so often sounded like music to Geralt. “Are you injured? I could grab you a potion if you are. Or maybe you’re just tired.” Jaskier dropped his hand and turned back to where they had laid down their belongings when the first men broke through the cover of the trees, using speed and surprise over strategy.

Geralt was sure he’d had them all until… until Jaskier killed the man who had managed to sneak up on him. Who would have put a sword through Geralt if not for Jaskier’s quick action and Geralt circled back to the image of Jaskier, bloody and snarling like a feral animal as he cut the man down with no hesitation.

A very, very long talk in a very, very cold stream.

Jaskier whistled and Roach came from her hiding spot in the trees. He patted her neck and dug through her saddlebags. “Geralt, are you out of Swallow? We have the spirit and the celandine but I think we might need to head towards the coast so you can cut down some drowners for their brains.” He smiled brightly. “Maybe they’ll be a contract for them as well. And a tavern that appreciates fine music. We could have a va- a very nice day. Or two.” Jaskier ducked his head and pink bloomed in his cheeks.

Geralt found his hand lifting of its own accord and landing on Jaskier’s shoulder.

The bard turned expectantly, then frowned when after a moment Geralt didn’t say or do anything else. “Geralt?” His voice was soft, the scent of his concern drew stronger. “Geralt, are you sure you’re okay? You seem stunned or something. Are you sure you didn’t take a hit to the head?”

“Sword,” Geralt said at last.

“He speaks,” Jaskier smiled briefly. “He speaks nonsense, but he speaks. What about a sword? I already told you I’d take care of any repairs needed after my impromptu maneuver. I don’t think there’s any permanent damage done. It wasn’t even that difficult. You have very good moves, dear.”

Geralt blinked as he realized where he’d seen the move Jaskier had performed. It was one he’d been taught at the School of The Wolf. Jaskier used one of Geralt’s own moves. One of his Witcher moves. To save his life. “That was… that was a witcher move. How did you…” he couldn’t even finish his question.

Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve followed you for over two decades, Geralt. On and off, sure, but still. I’ve seen you fight nearly every creature you could come across. Including bastards like those,” he nonchalantly tossed his head towards the dead men on the ground, his fringe flicking back into his eyes boyishly. “I memorized the moves you use. Granted, I’ve mostly practiced on training dummies and sparring partners, but I’ve run across my fair share of evil and desperate men before.”

“That… wasn’t your first kill?”

“Gods no,” Jaskier tilted his head and scrunched up his nose as he calculated. “Maybe my… dozenth? Or so. Now I tried not to pick up a sword unless necessary but that gutless bastard,” he spit at the man’s bisected body, “was in your blind spot. You probably would have managed to parry, but I didn’t want to take the chance.” Jaskier smiled. “Good thing too, now that we know you’re out of Swallow. Here,” he held out a canteen of water, “drink this. Get your strength back.”

Geralt took the canteen and drank slowly to give himself time to readjust his worldview on Jaskier. “Did you… count? When you were…”

Jaskier nodded. “Oh yes. Your movements are so like a dancer’s that I memorized them to a beat.” He smirked. “I’ll make a ballad out of them some day. I’m still in the habit of the counting, but eventually I’ll stop needing that, I suppose.”

“Right,” Geralt said, nodding as if he wasn’t imaging Jaskier, in plain shirt and tight trousers, sparring with Geralt on the grounds of Kaer Morhen. A blink and it was a different kind of sparring. In a bedroom. “Huh.”

“Well,” Jaskier said, as he dug back through the saddlebag, “there’s some White Raffard’s if push comes to shove. Makes sense after that last nest of nekkars. Frightful creatures by the way, possibly my least favourite of them all. Though you’re low on White Honey as well, so hopefully we can find a herbalist and stock up a bit before you have to do any major fighting. ”I’m glad now that I all but raided Oxenfurt’s gardens before I joined you for Spring. Got plenty of honeysuckle in my bag and I’m sure we can find some white myrtle with no problem this time of year. Where’s your alcohest, dear? I’m sure Lambert didn’t let you leave Kaer Morhen without every type of spirit known to man.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, unable to take it anymore. “We need to get back to camp.”

Jaskier whirled around and looked at Geralt then up at the sky, the sun slowly descending in the late afternoon light. “Oh you’re right. Best head back now before we lose the light. Pity we had to have that fight after the nice splash we’d had in that stream. Do you think there’s time to wash again before we head back?”

Geralt nodded. “Yes. Let’s do that first, getting clean again. That’s a very, very good idea.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier hummed, “I didn’t expect that answer from Mr Uses Monster Guts As Shampoo.”

“We’re going to need to get very clean,” Geralt said, “because as soon as we get back to camp I am going to fuck you.”

Jaskier froze. “Whaaaat did you just say? Geralt, I think I misheard you.”

Geralt shrugged. “Or you can fuck me. After seeing you fight like that, I’m letting you choose how we do it.”

“Seeing me fight.” Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find which of the many words he had at his disposal he wished to use.

“Or I could just suck you off, if you’d prefer that instead.”

“Geralt of Rivia. Geralt… Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde and I have never been more grateful for the night Vesemir got drunk and shared stories of your youth, I need you to be very, very serious about that offer.” Jaskier licked his lips. “Because I would very much like to take you up on it and if… if it’s just for the night, I don’t rightly think we should risk our… ye gods, you’ve never even called me your friend and here you are offering sex as if… is this just because you feel obligated? I’m sure you would have moved just in time but I couldn’t risk letting that man hurt you and-“

Geralt reached out and pulled Jaskier close, which shut the bard up. A trick Geralt was wishing he’d let himself try before. “I am very serious. If you want it to be for the night, it’s just for the night. It could be a more… formal arrangement if you’d prefer that.”

Jaskier dropped his head to Geralt’s shoulder and breathed out heavily. “I died, didn’t I? I misjudged the distance and the bandit killed me and this is heaven. I didn’t think I’d go to heaven. Huh.”

“Not dead,” Geralt said, lifting a hand to thread through Jaskier’s hair. “Not letting you die. Ever. Especially now that I know how well you fight. You’re living just as long as I am. Don’t know how. I’ll ask Yen, maybe she’ll know of some-“

“Okay,” Jaskier took a step back. “Now, now you’re just being… you want to ask Yennefer, a very very scary witch that you sleep with on the regular-“

Geralt shrugged. “Going to have to stop that now that I have you.”

A high-pitched whine issued from Jaskier’s throat. “I’m going to need you to stop saying things like that if you don’t mean them… how I… ho- expe- think you mean them.”

“I mean them how you think I mean them,” Geralt said. “Most likely. I mean that I would very much like to take you back to our camp and check at least a few things off the mental list of sexual acts we’ve both been compiling right now.”

Jaskier squeaked, “Both?”

Geralt nodded. “I would very much like to do so tomorrow night and for as many nights as you want me. And to extend your allotment of nights somehow. Yennefer has been searching arcane magic things for decades, surely she’s found some anti-ageing or immortality spell by this point. She wouldn’t have needed it, but I’m sure she would have made note of any.”

“Sure she can’t make me younger before she does that?’ Jaskier asked, relying on humour to help him deal with the inrush of information he was being given.

Tilting his head, Geralt looked Jaskier over very thoroughly, noting with some satisfaction what effect his assessing stare had on the state of Jaskier’s trousers. “I like you as you are now. Not the whelp that followed me when It was stupid and dangerous. You’re a grown man now. You’ve filled out. I like how you look.”

Jaskier ran a hand through his hair. “Pardon me if this all seems very sudden.”

“Not sudden,” Geralt said. “I’ve liked how you looked for years.”

“You never said anything.”

Geralt smirked slightly. “I know you’ve lusted for me. I can smell arousal. You never said anything either.”

Jaskier flailed again. “You didn’t consider me your friend, so forgive me for assuming ‘Hey Geralt, you’re the most bloody gorgeous person I’ve ever seen in my whole life would you like to bed me and then marry me’ wouldn’t go down very well.”

“I thought,” Geralt started, “you only wanted to follow me for the songs. For the fame and coin it earns you. It’s why you started following me.”

Struck speechless, Jaskier just stared.

Geralt continued. “I’ve thought of you as my friend, but I didn’t think you thought of me as yours. Until you saved me. Until you learned how I fight in case you ever needed to save me. Until you knew what my potions do and which ones they are. All the little things you’ve done for me throughout the years make sense now. I know friendship. That’s not friendship; it’s love.”

“I have loved you since,” Jaskier waved a hand theatrically, “since you told the elves to let me go. Since you let me stay with you even though you could have outrun me easily on Roach. You hunted enough for two and laid our bedrolls close so I wouldn’t freeze on cold nights and especially after the mountain, you’ve barely let me out of your sight and… oh my gods, I am thick, aren’t I? I am so thick! I am Mr. Thick Thick Thickety Thickface from Thicktown, Thickania. You don’t talk, you do. That was your way of… of… saying how you feel. Isn’t it?”

Geralt hummed and nodded.

Jaskier’s smile could have outshone the lovely sunset happening somewhere behind them. “You love me. Geralt, you… love me. Like I love you. Oh my gods, are you sure I’m not dead? Or having the most wonderful dream? This is real,” he took a step closer and reached out cautiously to pull Geralt into his arms. “This is real, right?”

“It’s real,” Geralt nodded again.

A laugh bubbled out of Jaskier, eliciting a smaller but no less sincere one from Geralt. “If I wasn’t covered in blood, I would be kissing you alre-“

Geralt leaned in and pressed their lips together, relishing the happy gasp Jaskier made against his mouth. “Hmm, I’m bloody too.”

Jaskier kissed Geralt, a small peck and then another. “Where was that stream again?”

Geralt pulled back and took Jaskier’s hand, guiding him in the dimming light. “I won’t be bedding you and then marrying you,” he said.

Confusion scrunched up Jaskier’s face before he realized what he had said before. “Oh bollocks, I didn’t mean that- necessarily- I don’t- where would we find a priest or priestess any- I wasn’t suggesting-”

“We have to have some courting time before we should even think about marrying,” Geralt continued. “it’s only proper.”

“Right,” Jaskier nodded so fast, it was a miracle his head didn’t fly away. “Right, right, right, right. Of course, of course, of course. Proper… proper courting. Geralt?” he asked as they arrived at the stream. “I love you. I just… can I say that now? Because I’ve wanted to say it so many times and I’ve been biting it back for years and I just… I just love you.”

Geralt smiled. “I love you too.”

Wow,” Geralt said, staring up at the ceiling. “That’s how you manage to get away with those abysmal pickup lines. I mean… wow.” His heart was racing so fast it almost sounded human after the passionate, athletic and frankly innovative sex they’d just had. "I always did think it would be good."

He didn’t need to turn to see Jaskier’s smug smile, but he did anyway.

Jaskier’s grin was wide and stretched his cheeks even higher than normal. He tossed his sweaty fringe out of his face and kissed Geralt, deeply, slowly, perfectly. “You’re welcome.”

#the witcher netflic #my fanfic #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #bamfjaskier

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