#thanks to you reblogging and commenting this post my notes are now full with idiots like you should go to hell tbh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

noona-clock · 4 years ago

Text

What’s Your Sign?: Virgo

Genre: Star Trek!AU

Pairing: Jae x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Mental health/Anxiety

Words: 8,898

Author’s Note: Since I’m so fascinated by astrology, I decided to do a Zodiac series! I will be writing a one-shot fic for each sign featuring different members from different groups (and even an actor!). Each story will be posted on the 5th of the month during that sign’s season. Please reblog, comment, or send in an ask with your feedback! Thank you for your support 💜

“Congratulations,” Chief Kang said to Jae -- otherwise known as the newly appointed Lieutenant Commander Park. A grin split his lips, and he reached out to clap and squeeze Jae’s shoulder amiably. “You made it through your first day.”

Jae pressed his lips together to keep himself from smiling too much like an idiot, but he was kind of desperately happy to hear those words coming from the Chief’s mouth.

He then nodded, murmuring his “Thank you” to the Chief before watching him walk away.

As soon as Chief Kang and the other members of the engineering crew were out of earshot, Jae let out a very deep, relieved sigh and finally allowed his grin to fully take over his mouth.

He had made it through his first day, indeed, and it felt wonderful. In the weeks leading up to today, he’d been pretty anxious, he wasn’t going to lie. I mean, working on a Starfleet ship was nerve-wracking enough, but working on a space station? This place was huge! He was just one of quite a few Assistant Chief Engineers here on Deep Space Eleven, so the whole thing was pretty daunting.

But he’d made it. And now he could go back to his private quarters, replicate himself a delicious meal, maybe play a virtual game, and then call it a night.

You know those nights when you make plans about what you’re going to do, but something throws a wrench in those plans, and you don’t end up getting to do what you wanted to do and it’s just so unsatisfying?

Tonight was not one of those nights for Jae.

He did end up going back to his private quarters (ignoring the boxes he had yet to unpack), replicating himself a delicious meal, playing his favorite virtual game with some friends back on Earth, and then he called it a night.

So, overall, he could accurately categorize his first full day on Deep Space Eleven as a success.

When he woke up the next morning, he prepared himself for more of the same -- at least when it came to his workday. Chief Kang would probably show him other areas of the station and give him time to get to know the ins and outs of the database.

He was really looking forward to it, actually,

But, as soon as he arrived at Engineering headquarters, Chief Kang threw a wrench in his plans.

“Hey, I was told to pass along a message,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “Since you’re new and everything, you’re supposed to go see the Counselor for some protocol evaluations and what have you.”

...Oh. So, everything going according to his plan last night was just a pre-consolation prize for everything not going according to his plan today.

“Ah,” he murmured, his brow furrowing gently.

“Nothing to worry about,” Chief Kang assured him with a lopsided grin. “My wife -- she’s a teacher here on the station -- she’s good friends with the Counselor. That’s how I knew to tell you, because she -- the Counselor -- told my wife, so my wife told me to tell you --”

“Got it,” Jae interrupted with a chuckle. “Where do I go?”

“Yes, right. Take this turbolift here up to the fourth level, and you’ll see the sign for the infirmary. Her office is right next door.”

Jae tipped his head in a nod, thanking his chief for the message and directions before turning on his heel toward the turbolift.

Well, it wasn’t what he had been expecting for his second day on the job, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Starfleet had been cracking down on the mental health status of its employees and students recently, so he really should’ve seen this coming.

Thankfully, he found the infirmary easily enough once he got off the turbolift, and since he had been taking a lot of mental notes on where specific places were in the station, he added the infirmary to the list. He hadn’t had time to go on a full walk-around yet, so he still didn’t know his way around most of the station.

But at least now he knew where he would go if he got sick or injured!

Just as Chief Kang had informed him, the door right next to the infirmary was labeled as the Counselor’s office, and the doorbell chimed just as he came to stand in front of it.

“Come in,” a female voice responded.

Jae leaned back as the door slid open automatically, and then he stepped inside.

He had been in a counseling office once before back in his Academy days. Just as he was now, all cadets had to take part in an initial evaluation before they could be deemed fit for duty. It was one of the newer protocols Starfleet had implemented. But that office hadn’t been quite as nice as this one.

This office was... I guess, the best way to describe it is cozy. About as cozy as a room on a space station could be.

He could definitely tell the Counselor had put a lot of time and thought into decorating her office; she had obviously wanted to make it as comfortable as possible for anyone who decided to -- or were forced to -- visit her.

“Hi,” the same female voice from just a moment ago greeted. “Lieutenant Commander Park, I assume?”

Jae had still been looking around the office, but at the sound of your voice, his gaze shifted to the desk near the middle of the room.

“Yes,” he confirmed as he made eye contact with you.

You stood, grinning at him and holding your hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Counselor Y/L/N.”

“Pleasure,” Jae replied shortly with a very brief nod as he shook your hand.

You gestured to the seat closest to him, on the other side of your desk, and said, “Please sit. This shouldn’t take too long. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your duties. I’ve heard Deep Space Eleven always has something in need of repair.”

“I think that’s probably true for any space station,” Jae replied with a polite half-smile as he took the seat you’d offered.

“You’re probably right,” you chuckled as you sat down, too. “Have you lived or worked on a space station before?”

“No, Counselor,” Jae answered. “This is my first.”

“Mine, too,” you confided. “I’ve been here about a year now, and I’m not going to lie -- it took me a little while to get used to living here. I guess I’m not as adaptable as I thought I was.”

Jae could see exactly what you were doing, and he had to commend you for it. You were taking the covertly social approach to the evaluation. Trying to figure out more about his mental state through conversation rather than asking him a list of cognitive questions.

“Yeah, it’s a little intimidating,” he agreed. “Mainly just because it’s so huge, but I worked in the Academy after graduating which I think is even bigger. I’m not too worried about the change.”

“Oh, really?” you asked with raised eyebrows. “What did you do there?”

Jae had to commend you again -- you seemed genuinely interested in his answer. Though, seeing as you were a counselor, it probably didn’t take much to pique your interest when it came to other peoples’ lives.

“I worked on all of the test ships. Made sure their systems ran exactly as the real ships do. Y’know, so the cadets can get actual practice in without blowing up a real alien planet.”

An amused smile appeared on your lips, and you laughed gently at his statement. “Yes, I remember those. I guess I never really thought about that... the behind the scenes stuff. As a cadet, you’re just focused on making it through and graduating, so you don’t really think about the little details like that.”

“That and most cadets are too young and ambitious to think about anyone other than themselves,” Jae smirked. He had definitely been that way, although he wasn’t sure he would label himself as ambitious. He had really been more... enthusiastic about his social life because he hadn’t had one prior to the Academy.

But you didn’t really need to know that.

“Immature, I think is the word you’re looking for,” you smirked.

“Yep, that’s the one,” Jae chuckled.

“What was it like, though? Working at the academy? I haven’t been back since graduation, I’m curious to know if it’s different being an employee than it is being a student.”

“Oh, much different,” Jae answered. “There’s way less pressure and you don’t have to take exams. It’s still stressful, but not the same kind of stress.”

“Exams,” you said with a somewhat nostalgic sigh. “Call me crazy, but I liked exams.”

“Okay, Crazy,” Jae laughed. “What?! You liked exams?”

“I did! I’m good at taking tests!”

“Man, I wish I was. I think I do a good job of organizing all my notes and stuff, but then my thoughts get so jumbled up and I think too much and second-guess myself.”

“I definitely second-guess myself, just not on exams, for some reason,” you shrugged. “I think I like exams because I know the answer is there somewhere. I just have to find it.”

“Yeah... see, it’s the remembering part that I’m not so great at. I have a pretty terrible memory, so I can make as many spreadsheets as I want... usually doesn’t help,” he chuckled, feeling a little bit embarrassed. But his memory had always been terrible -- there was nothing he could do about it now.

You furrowed your brow gently at him, leaning forward slightly and resting your elbows on your desk. After propping your chin up with one hand, you asked, “You haven’t found any techniques to help with memory or anything?”

“Nah,” Jae replied casually as if it wasn’t really a big deal. “I just have too many thoughts in my head to remember anything.”

“Trust me, I understand that,” you assured him. “I don’t know if this will work for you, but I’ve found that picking one thing to focus on and really forcing myself to just think about that one thing will help calm my mind. That especially works when I can’t sleep.”

Even though Jae felt like he’d tried that already (he had actually already done some research into ways to help his mild anxiety), he was still grateful for your suggestion. “I’ll try that,” he said.

“What about concentrating on your tasks at work, while you’re on the job?” you asked.

It was the first time Jae could tell you were trying to evaluate him and not just having a social conversation, but he had gotten pretty comfortable talking to you, so it didn’t throw him too off-balance.

“I don’t usually have too many problems with that, no,” he answered, shifting around in his seat a little. “I like creating things that don’t already exist, and I like fixing and making things better that do already exist. When I’m working, I don’t feel that pressure that I used to during an exam.”

Your lips spread into a friendly grin, and Jae couldn’t help but smile back at you. Despite the fact he had only interacted with one other counselor previously, you were still definitely the best one he’d ever spoken with. You were very welcoming and non-judgmental, and you had a very... familiar presence. It was kind of hard to explain, but it just felt like Jae already knew you.

“That’s always a wonderful thing,” you pointed out, still smiling at him. “When your job doesn’t feel like work.”

“Very true,” Jae nodded with a soft chuckle.

You then let out a little huff as you leaned back in your chair and reached for a PADD on your desk. “Sorry, I got a little off-track there. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

If Jae hadn’t had such a good time talking to you, he would be a little annoyed that you had just tried to play it off as social banter and not part of your evaluation. Instead, he found it quite adorable.

“Fire away,” he murmured before moving his hands to grip the armrests of his chair.

“Are you currently on any medication?”

“No, not currently.”

“Sorry,” you said with a guilty frown. “I don’t quite get along with the Chief Medical Officer, so I didn’t get access to your file.”

Jae’s forehead wrinkled immediately. “...What’s wrong with the CMO?”

You were so friendly and polite, there was no way the issue was on your end. Hence the reason Jae asked what was wrong with the CMO.

You pressed your lips together, but Jae could instantly tell it was because you were trying to stop yourself from laughing. “He... Well, truth be told, I’m a Betazoid, and he doesn’t think Betazoids should be allowed to be counselors.”

Jae sat there for a moment, his eyes narrowing slowly. “He doesn’t think... but... you can feel other peoples’ emotions... A counselor is, like, the perfect job for a Betazoid?”

You lifted your shoulders into a shrug. “He says it’s cheating. I don’t have to work as hard as he does.”

“That’s messed up, dude,” he murmured.

“Tell me about it,” you chuckled. “Anyway, have you ever experienced any symptoms of a mental health disorder? Anxiety, panic attacks, depression?”

“Anxiety, sure. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Do you have a history of any mental health disorders in your family?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Jae answered with a shake of his head.

You asked him a few more medical-related questions, and then you asked the question nobody really wants to answer: “How are you feeling these days? How would you rate your mental health on a scale of one to ten?”

Jae bit the inside of his cheek in thought, but before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“Sorry to pull this card, but I am a Betazoid. I... kind of already know how you’re feeling, so there’s no point in fudging the truth.”

Again, Jae should have been a little annoyed at that. But, instead, it relaxed him.

“Right, of course,” he chuckled quietly. “Well, I’m mostly okay. About a... seven? A little worried about being on such a large station. A little overwhelmed at everything I need to learn. I probably should have started a spreadsheet last night, but I decided to just relax and play a game with some friends.”

“I think we’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who went home after their first day of work and did more work,” you grinned. “There’s plenty of time for spreadsheets. Give yourself time to adjust and settle in first.”

Jae nodded, returning your grin with one of his own. “Hey, if you say so. Can you pass that message along to Chief Kang?”

“I absolutely can and will,” you chuckled. “He probably told you, but I’m good friends with his wife. I’ll tell her, and then she can tell him, and since she’s his wife, he’ll have to agree with her.”

“So true,” Jae smirked. “I’m not even married, but I know the wife is always right.”

You scrunched your nose up a little and said, “It’s so old-fashioned, but... it works in everybody’s favor in this situation, so we can let it pass.”

“Agreed,” Jae laughed.

You leaned forward, tilting your head a little bit and raising your eyebrows. “I do have some more questions, but I don’t want to keep you any longer. Can I just transfer them to you, and you can send them back whenever you get a chance?”

Yeah, you were definitely the best counselor. This cemented it.

“Sure, of course,” he nodded.

“Perfect,” you grinned before tapping a few times on your PADD. “There we go. Again, whenever you get a chance. No rush. You seem perfectly healthy, so there’s nothing I need to report back to Bri -- Chief Kang.”

Jae had to hold back his laughter hearing you almost call his boss by his first name. He was sure he would eventually get to a point where he would be comfortable enough to do that, but right now, he found amusement in it.

After thanking you again and standing from his seat, Jae turned to head to the door and get back to work. Before he reached it, though, you called out to him.

“Hey, please remember that my door is always open. If there’s anything at all you ever want to talk about it -- mental health-related or not -- I’m just a combadge call away.”

Jae turned his head to look over his shoulder at you, and again, you spoke before he got the chance to say anything.

“Yes, I know it’s hard for you to express your emotions, but I just want you to know: I’m here if you ever need to.”

“Thanks,” he nodded, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a crooked grin. He turned back around to face the door, and it slid open with a whoosh so he could head back down to the turbolift to get started with his work.

To be honest, even though Jae had yet to meet the Chief Medical Officer here on Deep Space Eleven, he felt like going over to the infirmary right now and asking what was wrong with him. He thought a Betazoid Counselor was cheating? Jae thought the opposite -- he thought it was absolutely wonderful.

I mean, you had already known he didn’t like talking about feelings! Your Betazoid-ness meant you could figure that out about him instinctively! He hadn’t needed to tell you, and telling a person you don’t like talking about your feelings was basically just as bad as actually talking about your feelings.

After his visit with you, Jae had decided to give himself a month -- tops -- to get settled in -- settled into his new job, settled into his new living situation -- settled into living in outer space, period. He felt that was a pretty decent timeline, and if he still felt some unease about things after the first month, he would schedule an appointment with you.

But the month came and went, and Jae didn’t even realize he felt comfortable until around the sixth or seventh week after his arrival on the station. It had just kind of snuck up on him, but he figured that was a good thing.

It might have helped that work kept him incredibly busy, and he was so tired by the end of the day that he hardly ever had trouble getting to sleep. And when he did have trouble, he tried the technique you’d mentioned about focusing on just one thing, and it had actually helped.

Truth be told, though, he hadn’t really thought about you since his visit. His days were filled with engineering and operations of Deep Space Eleven, and his evenings were filled with either virtual games or doing more work. Plus, he never ran into you anywhere out and about on the station, and he hadn’t yet had to make a trip to the infirmary.

(Side note: living out in space had done wonders for all of his outdoor allergies, something he hadn’t even thought of -- and something which he now felt dumb for not thinking of. When he was living back down on Earth, he’d had to visit the infirmary multiple times per month to get some relief from his watery eyes and runny nose.)

If he hadn’t actually met you that one time almost two months ago, he wouldn’t even know you were alive. And vice versa, of course. The fact that he never saw you also meant that you never saw him.

But then earlier today, totally out of the blue, Chief Kang came up to Jae and asked about the visit he’d had with you.

“How did your evaluation go with Counselor Y/L/N?” Chief Kang asked after sidling up to Jae at the transporter console he was currently trying to fix.

Jae furrowed his brow, keeping his gaze laser-focused on his work. “That... was several weeks ago,” he told his boss. “But it went well, I assume.”

“Y/N is pretty great, huh?”

Well, Jae was today years old when he discovered he had never actually learned your first name.

Jae furrowed his brow even more, and this time, he glanced over at Chief Kang. “...If you’re referring to the same person, then... sure?”

For some reason, he didn’t particularly want to tell Chief Kang that you had been the best counselor he’d ever spoken to.

“Yeah, I’ve gotten to know her pretty well because of my wife,” Chief Kang nodded.

Jae paused his work, turning to fully look at his boss.

And then he blinked.

And... blinked again.

“...Okay,” he finally said because, apparently, Chief Kang wasn’t going to add anything to his statement. Or, like... explain why he’d said it.

Chief Kang shook his head a little and then straightened up. “Anyway. Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

...Um, what was going on? Why was the Chief Engineer of Deep Space Eleven being so random?

“I... don’t?” Jae replied warily. He just really had no idea why his boss would be asking his dinner plans right after bringing up the station’s Counselor...

“Why don’t you come over to mine?” Chief Kang asked as he reached out and patted Jae on the back of his shoulder. “I would love for you to meet my wife. She can replicate up some delicious boiled Krada legs, if you’re interested.”

Okay, despite the fact Chief Kang was being so random, Jae was interested. He would never and could never pass up some good boiled Krada legs.

“What time should I be there?”

Since Jae certainly hadn’t wanted to forget that he was going to Chief Kang’s quarters for dinner tonight (and before you ask -- yes, his memory was that bad), he created a reminder as soon his boss had left him at the transporter console earlier that day. He’d tapped on his combadge and asked the computer to remind him to go to the Chief’s quarters as soon as he stepped inside his own quarters.

And, as usual, it had worked like a charm. The second he’d stepped inside what he now thought of as home, the computer had chirped and said, “Reminder to go to Chief Kang’s quarters for dinner.” So, Jae had turned right back around and headed toward the section of the habitat ring set aside for couples and families.

Now here he was, newly arrived at the Kang household doors, stepping inside as soon as Chief Kang had instructed the computer to open them.

“Hey, there he is,” Chief Kang greeted, approaching him with a wide grin.

Jae, still feeling a bit confused and awkward about just why this was happening, forced his lips into a polite smile in return. “Chief Kang,” he replied.

“Oh, please, call me Brian,” his boss chuckled.

Jae nodded in return, and his gaze shifted away from Brian and into the main room of the Kang household. He saw two other people -- both women -- standing by the replicator. One he had never seen before and automatically assumed was Brian’s wife.

The other... was you.

“Honey,” Brian called out, resting a hand on Jae’s shoulder and gently guiding him over toward her.

The woman he didn’t know turned, and for a very brief second, Jae saw a look of slight panic on your face. But then, when you turned to face him, your expression evened out into one of courtesy and amiability.

“Honey, this is Jae,” Brian introduced him, and Jae received her handshake with a smile and a nod. “He’s the newest Assistant Chief I’ve told you about.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Brian’s wife gushed after replying with her own introduction. And then she turned toward you, her grin widening and her eyes sparkling. “And you know Y/N?”

Jae could have sworn you discreetly flung an elbow out to nudge Brian’s wife in the side, and if your cheeks hadn’t turned a slight shade of pink, he would’ve simply thought he’d imagined things.

“Yes, we’ve met,” Jae answered, fixing his smile on you and shaking your hand, as well. “Pleasure to see you again.”

“You, too,” you said with an awkward chuckle.

“Here, you two go sit,” Brian intervened, corralling both you and Jae toward the dinner table just a few feet from the replicator. “I’ll help my wife finish up here.”

Jae pulled out a chair for you, nodding when you murmured your thanks and sat down.

“And they say chivalry is dead, huh?” Brian grinned before joining his wife back at the replicator.

When Jae sat down next to you, he leaned over closer to you though he kept his gaze on his boss (who was now having a covert conversation with this evening’s hostess). “He... is acting really weird,” Jae whispered to you.

He heard a soft, breathless chuckle before you answered with, “Yeah. I mean, his weirdness is very normal -- trust me. But he’s, uh -- he’s definitely up to something.”

Jae’s brow furrowed, and he tore his eyes away from Brian and his wife to shoot you a questioning expression. “Up to something?”

Your eyebrows shot halfway up your forehead, and you hastily reached for your napkin on the table to spread it over your lap. “Nothing -- how have you been? I haven’t seen you at all since --”

You stopped short, but Jae understood why. It felt awkward to talk about a mental health evaluation for work purposes when neither of you were at work.

“I’m doing pretty great, actually,” he responded as he set his elbows on the edge of the table and clasped his hands together. “I gave myself a month to settle in, and to be honest, I didn’t even realize when a month had passed.”

“That’s a very good sign,” you grinned. And then you bit your lip in a sort of sly but also sheepish manner. “You, uh... you never did send me the rest of the questions, though.”

Oh, god, that was right! You hadn’t wanted to keep him any longer, so you’d sent him the rest of the questionnaire and asked him to reply with his answers. And -- unsurprisingly -- he had completely forgotten.

“Of course,” Jae replied as he shook his head shamefully. “I’m so sorry, it just slipped my mind once I got back to work, and --”

“Actually, it’s not a big deal,” you assured him with a chuckle. “Like I said, you seem perfectly healthy, and I can tell you feel more at ease than you did back then.”

...Oh, right. The Betazoid thing. How had he forgotten that, too?

You then ducked your head a little in his direction and whispered, “And, trust me, I also feel as confused and awkward as you do right now.”

“Yeah?” Jae murmured back to you.

“I had no idea they were also inviting you,” you said. “When she asked me to come over, I got the feeling she was planning something, but I figured it was just dinner. Like, literally she was just planning dinner.”

Jae was about to ask what you meant by that, but Brian and his wife arrived at the table with a tray of salad and boiled Krada legs before he got the chance.

And, to be entirely honest, the Krada legs were so incredibly delicious that he forgot you even mentioned anything. In fact, he was too busy enjoying his meal to even notice that Brian and his wife spent the entirety of dinner asking the both of you questions.

Although that wasn’t necessarily an odd thing to do at a kind-of-but-not-really dinner party -- the hosts were supposed to talk to their guests right?

Whatever. The food was amazing, and that’s really all that mattered. To Jae, at least.

After about three servings of Krada legs (on both his and Brian’s part), a cup of hot Vulcan spice tea, and a little bit of semi-awkward conversation (though Jae really couldn’t place why it was awkward), you arose from your seat on the couch and announced you should probably get going.

Jae, not really wanting to stay here by himself, stood up with you and said, “I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

He glanced over at his hosts for the evening just to make sure they didn’t think he was being rude... but the expressions on their face said quite the opposite. They looked far too pleased.

“Yes, of course,” Brian said, standing up and all but ushering both of you toward the door. “Thank you for coming, we hope you enjoyed the meal, we’d love to do it again sometime, good night!”

And before Jae knew it, he was standing next to you outside of Brian’s quarters, the door swooshing closed behind you.

He furrowed his brow in confusion and glanced over at you. “Was... that weird to you, too, or is it just me?”

“No, that was absolutely weird,” you chuckled.

“Actually, this whole night was weird, dude,” he murmured as you began walking down the hall. Jae followed you, falling into step next to you and shaking his head in wonderment.

“Yeah...” you said slowly. “I, uh... I’m really sorry.”

His brow furrowed even more. “What? Why are you sorry? You weren’t the one being super weird.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, and Jae just had this feeling there was something he was completely missing.

“Okay, you really don’t know,” you murmured. “I, uh... I’m pretty sure they... were... trying to set us up.”

Jae tripped over his own shoes, stumbling a little at first but catching himself quickly.

...Yeah, there had been something he’d completely missed.

“Wait, wh -- what?” he stammered. “They were -- they were what?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I told you I could tell she was planning something when she asked me over for dinner. And then she kept putting dinner off even though I was already there, and Brian kept saying to wait a few more minutes which is very unlike him because the man loves to eat, but then you walked in and... it all became clear.”

...Okay, now that he really thought about it, the questions they’d asked the two of you during dinner had been kind of a giveaway.

Like... a major giveaway that the whole thing had been a setup.

“Oh, god, that’s why Brian asked if I was seeing anyone,” Jae blinked.

You simply let out an apologetic sigh, but then you said, “Hey, listen, I can walk myself home. I know you just wanted to leave, you don’t need to --”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he interrupted. “Honestly, I’m just glad to be around someone who isn’t acting so strangely.”

“Work tomorrow is going to be awkward, huh?”

Jae laughed at that... but he still nodded. “Oh, yeah, definitely.”

“Seriously, come see me if he’s too much,” you giggled. “Just tell him you’re feeling stressed. That will definitely reel him in because he really meant it when he was giving you all those glowing reviews during dinner. He wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Ah, yes. Jae remembered now that Brian had been telling you (and his wife, but probably mostly you now that he knew what he knew) how good Jae was at his job -- how competent and reliable and organized he was.

Well, at least it was nice to know he’d actually meant it.

“I’ll do that,” he smirked. And then he remembered -- “And I will answer those questions and send them back to you as soon as I get back to my quarters.”

“No, no worries,” you chuckled.

“I’m so sorry -- I told you I have a super bad memory. I had to make a reminder on my computer to even go to dinner tonight.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, reaching over and resting a comforting hand on his arm. “I can’t imagine how busy you must be.”

“Me?” he asked. “You’re one counselor for a station with literally thousands of people on board.”

You let your hand slip away, and Jae was kind of surprised to learn that he wished you’d kept it there.

“Y’know, I have been meaning to ask Captain Kim if he can assign another one... preferably a non-Betazoid so Dr. Bartlett will actually trust one of us,” you said with a smirk.

Jae tsked and shook his head gruffly. “Man, I can’t believe he doesn’t trust you just because you’re a Betazoid.”

“Some people are just like that,” you shrugged, though your casual tone of voice was quite obviously meant to assuage Jae’s irritation with the Chief Medical Officer. “And... truth be told... he’s just jealous.”

Jae’s head reared back slightly in surprise. “He’s jealous?”

You hummed positively, nodding in confirmation. “He’s jealous that I don’t have to work quite as hard as he does to be good at my job. And he must know that I can sense he’s jealous which makes him all the more frustrated and all the more distrustful of me.”

“I think Captain Kim should replace Dr. Bartlett and assign another counselor,” Jae declared.

“That would be nice,” you chuckled. “But I’ll be alright. Thank you for the support, though. It’s very much appreciated. And genuine, I can tell.”

Jae sputtered out a laugh because he still wasn’t quite used to someone voicing what he was feeling without telling them, but before he could say anything to you, you said, “I’m sorry, I’ll lay off. Just because I can sense your emotions doesn’t mean I have to say it out loud.”

“So, can you, like, turn it on and off?” he asked, a smirk lingering on his lips from his amusement.

“No,” you answered immediately with a quick shake of your head. “I mean, I can turn off the part of me that tells you, of course. But... I can always sense what other people are feeling. Even if I don’t want to.”

“Doesn’t that get... exhausting?”

I mean, Jae sometimes got so drained just from feeling his emotions. If he felt everyone else’s too, that would probably render him completely incapable of living a normal life.

You simply shrugged, though. “Not really. It’s very easy to distinguish which emotions are mine and which are someone else’s, so I’m not over here wondering why I all of a sudden feel sad or scared or stressed. That would be exhausting.”

“So, you just know who is feeling what? Like, even if you’re in a big crowd?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “I can’t really explain how... I just know. But it’s kind of like... the feelings have the same energy as the person.”

“That’s so interesting,” Jae murmured.

“You know how, when you know someone really well and they walk up behind you, you can just tell it’s them?”

Jae nodded slowly.

“It’s kind of like that.”

“Interesting,” Jae repeated, because he truly was fascinated by how your empathic abilities worked.

You stopped suddenly then, your forehead wrinkling and your mouth turned down into a frown as you whipped your head around to examine your surroundings.

“You know what else is interesting?” you asked.

“Hm? What?” Jae asked, nearly tripping over himself yet again as he ceased walking.

“We... completely passed my quarters.”

“...Oh,” Jae replied... before bursting out laughing. “Yo, I’m sorry, dude, that’s totally my fault. I kept asking you questions and distracting you.”

“No,” you laughed, shaking your head. “It’s okay. You’re... actually one of the only people who’s ever really been interested.”

“Wait, seriously?” he asked as you turned around and began walking back the way the two of you had just come.

“Most people just either don’t care or think I’m some sort of weirdo and don’t want to be around me so I can’t sense how they’re feeling,” you shrugged.

“See, that’s one reason why I like being around you,” Jae assured you eagerly. “Because I don’t like talking about or showing my emotions -- sometimes I can’t even understand what my emotions are -- but you know exactly what I’m feeling. You can help me figure it out, and you can say it for me.”

“I would be a pretty bad counselor if I didn’t help you get more comfortable with it, though!” you chuckled. “I’m not doing my job if I just talk about your feelings for you!”

“No, I know, I know,” he agreed hastily. “But you saying them first makes me feel more at ease, and that will probably make it easier for me to talk about everything.”

You raised your eyebrows and shot him a hopeful glance. “So, that means you’ll come for another visit?”

“...Do you think I need to?”

“Well, no, but in a way, I think we all need to. It can’t hurt to talk to a professional every once in a while,” you pointed out.

“True, true.”

“Ah, there’s me up ahead,” you murmured, gesturing toward a door about ten yards away. “Won’t miss it this time.”

The two of you walked the rest of the way in silence, and when you approached your door, you let out a soft sigh.

“Sorry again -- even though I didn’t do anything but show up, I still feel bad.”

“No, please don’t,” Jae assured you. “I had some good food and some good conversation, so the night definitely wasn’t a bust.”

A tiny smirk tugged at your lips, and Jae noticed for the first time just how adorable and attractive your mouth was.

That was a weird thought.

“I would have to agree,” you nodded. “Again, call me anytime you want to talk. About whatever. On the clock, off the clock -- I’m totally here for a good, deep conversation about the meaning of life.”

“Okay, got it,” Jae chuckled.

“Thanks for walking me back,” you grinned.

“You got it,” Jae replied before lifting one hand up to give you a two-finger salute. “My quarters are in this wing, too, so I was coming over here, anyway. --I mean, not that I didn’t enjoy -- I wanted to --”

“Good night, Lieutenant Commander,” you chuckled, pressing your lips together to keep from laughing.

You stepped up to your door, heading inside when it opened, and Jae called out “Night, Counselor!” after you.

Well. He would probably have to stare out into space for a few hours to try and forget about how awkward he had just been.

But whatever.

He really didn’t know why he was so nervous. He was just standing outside your office preparing to ask you if you wanted to grab some lunch -- it’s not like he was coming for an official counseling session where he would have to divulge and dissect his emotions.

But what made him even more nervous was the fact you would be able to tell he was nervous. And he was a bit concerned that you would misinterpret his nervousness and think he was asking you out to lunch as a date or something.

Which... he wasn’t. Despite Brian -- Chief Kang’s nudgings.

Jae’s boss had been popping up here and there throughout the morning, asking him if he’d had a good time last night, what he thought of you, if anything of note had happened when he’d walked you home.

Jae liked to think that if he hadn’t already known Brian and his wife were trying to set him up with you, Brian’s pestering for the past several hours would’ve made it very obvious and he would’ve caught on.

But he wasn’t here to ask you to lunch because of Brian or because he wanted to date you -- he just liked talking to you! And it was lunchtime! People have to eat, and after two months of eating while working, Jae was finally going to allow himself an actual break. With a friend.

Who... just happened to be a smart, friendly, attractive friend.

...And now he was more nervous than ever.

But he still took that extra step in front of your door, triggering the chime and hearing your almost immediate ‘Enter!’

When the door slid open, his gaze found yours easily, and a smile tugged at his lips when he saw how pleasantly surprised you looked.

“Lieutenant Commander,” you greeted, standing from your desk with a grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jae took one step inside your office, clasping his hands behind his back as he asked, “I was wondering... are you hungry?”

“I’m starving,” you answered. “Have you eaten at Benjamin’s yet?”

Jae had passed by the restaurant on the promenade several times, but he shook his head as he hadn’t yet had the chance to visit.

“Oh, you are in for a treat,” you said as you wiggled your eyebrows.

You headed toward the door then and Jae stepped aside to give you space to get by, but before you left, you stopped in front of him and reached out to gently take hold of his upper arms.

“And there’s no need to be nervous. I’m not Counselor Y/L/N when I’m eating lunch, I’m just Y/N. And neither Brian nor his wife need to know about this.”

Jae couldn’t stop himself from letting out an amused -- but relieved -- sigh.

“Got it,” he smirked.

You patted his arm and nodded before stepping out of your office and making your way to the promenade.

Fortunately (though Jae really shouldn’t have been surprised), you made good on all of your promises: the food at Benjamin’s was far better than anything he’d eaten in two months (aside from the boiled Krada legs), you hadn’t turned lunch into a counseling session, and neither Chief Kang nor his wife found out that the two of you had shared another meal together.

In fact, the two of you began sharing just about every lunch break with each other -- sometimes you ate at Benjamin’s, though you mostly just had replicated sandwiches in your office, and you had now gone almost three full months without your meddling matchmakers finding out. And you knew they hadn’t found out because Brian had asked Jae about you quite a few times, and his wife had asked you about Jae quite a few times, wondering if the two of you had seen each other at all.

Jae had, on occasion, told Brian he’d gone to your office because of work stress, but he’d only deployed that tactic when he felt his boss was getting too nosy. It always worked because Brian wouldn’t ask about you for at least a week afterward.

He had to be honest, though -- some of your lunches did turn into counseling sessions, but you insisted they were purely off the record. It was just you being a good friend.

And you were a good friend. A very good friend. Jae could rant and vent to you about anything, and you listened -- genuinely listened. You helped him recognize his emotions, sort out his chaotic feelings, and eventually, he realized it no longer filled him with dread when he told you what was going on inside his head or his heart.

...Although that wasn’t fully true.

Because he had absolutely developed more than friendly feelings for you over the last three months -- how could he not? You were beautiful and kind and caring and the only person he truly felt comfortable with, not just on Deep Space Eleven but, like... ever.

He knew you had to have sensed his romantic interest... but you never said anything. And if you knew he liked you and you liked him back, wouldn’t you have said something? You typically had no problem addressing his feelings, so it was only logical that you not addressing these particular feelings meant you didn’t return them.

So, thinking about telling you that still did fill him with dread.

Usually, he was incredibly good at masking those specific feelings -- the romantic ones and the dreading ones -- but for some reason, they were both lingering in the back of his brain today. So much so that he almost called you on his combadge to say he couldn’t meet up for lunch... but seeing you had become his favorite part of the day. He always worked harder and was more productive after lunch because seeing and talking to you put him in such a good mood.

So, here he was: at your door as usual, trying to decide what kind of sandwich he wanted for lunch.

As soon as he stepped inside after the door whooshed open and greeted you with a soft smile, though, your forehead wrinkled.

Oh, boy.

He knew you well enough to know that specific forehead wrinkle. And it meant you were going to ask him if everything was okay.

“Hey,” you said with a note of concern in your voice. “...Everything okay?”

Jae, of course, tried to play it off. “Yeah, absolutely,” he answered. “Just super hungry.”

You bit the inside of your cheek but, apparently, decided to believe him because you simply walked over to your replicator and asked for a club sandwich on wheat with avocado.

Jae requested one for himself because that sounded incredibly delicious, so you quickly added another to the order and brought them over to your desk once they appeared.

After you sat down, you picked up one half of your sandwich and brought it up to take a bite. ...But then you paused. You set the sandwich back down, frowned across your desk at Jae and said, “Are you sure everything’s okay? I just -- I’m pretty sure you’re dreading something, and I --”

“No, it’s fine,” Jae assured you even though he knew he should just tell you the truth. “I think I had a -- a bad dream or something, just can’t shake it.”

You looked down at your meal and murmured, “Sorry. I don’t want to intrude, and sometimes I forget that asking about every little feeling is intruding, and even though I’m Counselor Y/L/N, I don’t have to help everyone with everything, and --”

Jae couldn’t let you keep talking like this. He wasn’t an empath like you, but he could tell you needed reassurance. You weren’t typically prone to insecure muttering, and... it kind of broke his heart to hear you saying all that?

“Y/N, no,” he interrupted gently. “You’re not intruding, I swear. I just --”

He set down his sandwich with a soft sigh and fixed his gaze on your Starfleet Academy diploma hanging on the wall behind you.

“I just...”

There were too many thoughts hurtling through his head right now, so he stood from his chair and began to pace slowly around your office.

The best thing he could think to do right now was to tell the truth, and even though he probably wasn’t thinking clearly and telling you the truth may not actually be a good idea... he was going to do it, anyway.

“I just really like you, and I’m dreading ever telling you -- well, I was dreading ever telling you because I know you know. You have to know, and you’ve never said anything which obviously means you don’t feel the same way, and --”

All of a sudden, you were standing in front of him.

Jae paused, stopping his pacing before he ran into you, and his heart stopped along with him. You were standing in front of him, looking up at him with just a hint of a delighted grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

“You’re wrong,” you said.

Jae’s mouth was hanging open slightly since he’d been in the middle of saying something when you’d interrupted him. But hearing those words come from your mouth, he snapped it shut and his head jerked back a little.

“I’m -- come again?”

“You’re wrong,” you repeated, letting your grin become ever so slightly more apparent. “I do feel the same way.”

Jae gulped.

“You... do?”

You nodded quickly, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “Of course, I knew. But did you really think I was going to let you get away with not telling me yourself?”

“Excuse me?!” Jae laughed, his forehead wrinkling. “Get away with -- what -- but you --”

“I am more than happy to help you analyze any other feeling, both as your counselor and as your friend. But I politely refuse to help you analyze your romantic feelings, especially if they’re for me.”

“But -- why? I mean, just out of curiosity.”

“Because! I wanted you to figure it out and be able to tell me on your own. Without my help. Then I would know that you... you really mean it.” Your voice had become shy, and as Jae gazed down at you, studying your features, he was overcome with the urge to --

Well, he just had to go ahead and do it before you could sense it.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You let out a soft yelp of surprise, but only seconds after that, he felt your hands on the side of his face and the back of his neck. He felt your lips accepting his. He felt you step closer to him, so he slid his arms around your waist.

As first kisses usually are, yours was sweet and eager but brief. Jae pulled away soon after he took hold of your waist, though he almost immediately dropped a small kiss on the bridge of your nose before he said, “Well, I really mean it.”

You beamed up at him, siding your hands down and resting them on his chest. “You really mean what?” you asked quietly.

Jae chuckled softly. He shouldn’t be surprised that you wanted him to express his feelings out loud with no uncertainty, and if that’s what you wanted, that’s what you were going to get.

This time, at least.

He couldn’t promise he would always express his feelings out loud and with no uncertainty.

“I like you,” he stated with a smirk. “I really like you, and I want to date you and be more than just your friend.”

“I like you, too,” you replied hastily. “But we have to make a decision.”

“A decision? What do you mean?” he murmured, wishing he was just kissing you again instead of talking about decisions.

“We either need to keep our relationship totally secret or --”

“What?!”

“Or we have to learn how to deal with the Kangs reminding us constantly that they were the ones who set us up.”

Jae paused for a few moments, eventually nodding slowly. “Yes, that is true. Very true.”

“And I can guarantee they will invite us over for double date dinners.”

“Yeah, that’s -- I’m not doing that.”

You giggled softly before standing on your toes and capturing his lips in a quick kiss.

“That’s what holograms are for,” you whispered.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you so much.”

Just before Jae could lean in and kiss you again... your combadge chirped.

“Kang to Y/L/N.”

Both of you froze, your eyes widening before you answered with, “...Go ahead.”

“Have you seen Lieutenant Commander Park?”

You pressed your lips together, and Jae had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing.

“I... have not. Not today, Sir.”

“If you do, can you tell him to report to me?”

“Yes, Sir. Yes, I will.”

“And also... have you eaten lunch yet?”

Jae squeezed your waist and mouthed, I think he’s trying to set us up again.

“I have, Sir,” you answered.

“...Ah. Never mind then. Forget what I said about Park.”

“...Okay, Sir.”

“But keep your lunch free tomorrow?”

“You got it. Sir,” you replied, just barely keeping your cool.

“Good,” Brian replied before saying, “Kang out.”

Both you and Jae immediately burst out laughing.

“Okay, I’m so tempted to keep us a secret, at least for a little while,” Jae suggested. “That was too much fun.”

You scrunched up your nose, and at first, Jae thought you were going to reject his idea.

But then you nodded quickly. “Let’s do it. ”

Jae beamed down at you, and when your stomach suddenly growled, you both started laughing yet again.

“Let’s also eat,” Jae chuckled, finally letting you go even though he really would rather kiss you one last time.

You took a step back, preparing to go back around your desk to sit and eat... but then you backtracked. You advanced toward him and stood on your toes to kiss him.

When you pulled away a few seconds later, Jae furrowed his brow and said, “Did you...?”

“Know that you would rather kiss me instead of eat? Yes.”

“Got it. Just checking.”

To be quite honest... your whole empath thing was going to be... super amazing.

I mean, you were super amazing without the empath thing. The fact that you could sense his feelings and know what he wanted without him having to tell you was just a bonus. A really nice bonus.

But he would still try to get better about expressing himself, for your sake. You were definitely worth that.

Other Signs: Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius, Pisces

139 notes · View notes

captainjanegay · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Bucky is a single dad coming back from a work trip with a very bored, very whiney 7-year-old girl. A mysterious stranger with a kind heart and a notebook full of doodles comes to the rescue.

A/N: I was pondering whether I should leave the dance recital for later or just go with it and I decided that I had no idea how else could this third chapter go, so here it is! I hope you'll like it and as always I wanted to thank you so so much for all the love and kind words :') They all make my heart melt and make me actually excited (even though still anxious) about posting next chapters :') Thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, liked or reblogged this fic, it means the world to me ♥

I was worried this one is going to be shorter but I've added some last minute Natasha content because who doesn't love Natasha content? I certainly do. Enjoy and see you all next time ♥

Chapter 3

(4.4k words)

Bucky is nervous. It feels almost as if he is the one who’s going to dance in front of all those people in less than an hour. Although he thinks it would be less anxiety-inducing than watching Alex's performance. It’s not like he doesn’t believe in her. If there’s one thing that Bucky is sure of, it’s that his daughter is talented and brilliant and that she’s going to be amazing. He just knows how important it is to her, so he wants everything to go perfectly. Which is why in the last two minutes he has sent at least four messages to Clint to make sure he won't be late.

Each time Clint told him to fuck off and not be a dick. There’s still over thirty minutes left before the recital starts and objectively Bucky knows Clint would never miss something that’s so important to Alex. It doesn’t stop him from worrying, though.

With a sigh, he slides his phone into his back pocket and looks around the lobby. Not that many people are around yet and Bucky is not that surprised. Besides the parents, there are rarely any other people coming to those things. Sometimes not even all the parents do. Alex probably has the biggest support group even on the smallest events. And Bucky doesn’t even need to drag anyone forcefully. They’re just lucky enough to have plenty of supportive friends in their life and thinking about it makes Bucky really emotional sometimes.

The door opens and Bucky’s eyes skip that way automatically. The man that walks in is tall and blond-haired, dressed in an old-school brown leather jacket and a scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck. He hovers by the door for a few moments and looks a bit lost, scanning the lobby.

“Steve?” Bucky says and the man’s head turns towards him quickly.

When Steve's eyes land on Bucky, a big smile blooms on his face.

“Bucky, hi!” Steve says, walking over to him.

“You came.” Bucky points out with a smile. Steve made it clear on a few occasions that he will, but actually seeing him here is still a bit of a surprise.

“Of course. Didn’t want to let Alex down. Or you, but mostly her,” the sincerity in his voice warms Bucky’s heart. Steve rubs at his neck in a nervous gesture and reaches to his messenger bag. “I’ve actually— You’ve said how important to her it was so I— I’ve made a little something for her, I hope that’s OK?”

Surprised, Bucky looks down and sees that Steve is holding an open folder. Inside, there’s a drawing made with coloured pencils and when Bucky sees it his breath catches.

It shows Alexandra in full ballerina gear, with a big fluffy tutu and a little tiara on her head. There’s a huge smile on her face and her eyes are sparkling in the spotlights. She’s caught mid-pirouette. Even though it’s just a drawing, it’s so dynamic Bucky half expects her to start twirling across the page. Around her there is a confetti of musical notes and roses being thrown her way, some of them scattered on the stage in front of her. It’s so beautiful Bucky’s fingers twitch forward to touch the drawing but he quickly catches himself.

“God, Steve—” he starts but he has no idea what to say next.

“I just— I don’t know, I wanted to have a little gift for her? The dancers are given flowers after their performances, but I— I don’t know, I can just—,” Steve mumbles.

When Bucky finally tears his eyes away from the drawing, he notices that Steve has an honest to God blush on his cheeks and he’s still rubbing his neck in that nervous gesture. A sudden urge to wrap this amazing, kind man in a hug overwhelms Bucky. He manages to stop himself. Instead, he puts his hand on Steve’s bicep and squeezes lightly.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t even— My god, it’s amazing. Alex will go crazy when she sees it. I bet she’s gonna make me hang it somewhere,” Bucky lets out a chuckle. “And I’ll gladly do that, it’s really wonderful.”

A shy smile appears on Steve’s face as he closes the folder and carefully tucks it into his bag. “It’s nothing, just a little drawing.”

“Maybe for you but she’s gonna be over the moon. And I can’t believe that you really came and did this drawing and— You’re amazing, Steve.”

The blush on Steve’s cheeks only deepens. He looks down, refusing to look into Bucky’s eyes and he opens his mouth to say something.

But before he gets the chance, there’s some commotion on the other side of the lobby. When Bucky looks that way, he sees Clint and Scott arguing about something, the former holding a phone in front of his face. Walking calmly behind them are Hope and Cassie, both with similar tired yet fond expressions on their faces.

“Hi guys, you’ve made it!” Bucky greets them with a smile.

“We did! Clint kept rushing us cause apparently you’ve been bugging him for the last hour not to be late,” Hope says giving Bucky an one-armed hug.

“I—,” Bucky stutters. “It wasn’t an hour. Besides I wouldn’t if I knew he was picking you up.”

“Of course it was an hour and of course you would, Barnes. Don’t lie and pretend you're not a crazy person,” Clint says, looking up from the phone.

Clint’s eyes skip from Bucky to Steve, who moved half a step back and is watching the commotion with a polite smile on his face. When Clint looks back at Bucky, he wiggles his eyebrows with an awful smile.

Bucky never wanted to smack him so badly.

“You won’t introduce us?” Clint asks.

Sending him one last hateful look, Bucky glances at Steve, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Here’s Scott, his fiancee Hope and his daughter Cassie. And this idiot is Clint, sorry about him. Guys, this is Steve, a… friend, we’ve met recently.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Steve says with a smile.

“Wait, what Steve? How is James making friends, I didn’t know he could do that?” comes a voice from Clint’s phone, making Bucky groan.

“We’re just as surprised, Nat.”

Clint turns his phone around, showing the screen with Natasha’s slightly glitchy face on it. She quickly scans the new surroundings and her eyebrows shoot up when she notices Steve.

“Oh hello,” she greets with a signature Natasha smile, kind but slightly wolfish and possibly intimidating to strangers. "I'm Natasha."

“Um.” Steve sends a confused glance Bucky’s way, but says. “Nice to meet you too, Natasha. I’m Steve, the new friend. Apparently that's an achievement for Bucky.”

If Bucky felt sympathetic for Steve for being ambushed by his friends, he’s not anymore. Instead, he groans again and ignores the small smirk that Steve sends him and Natasha’s “I like this one!”.

“Can you all just shut up and proceed to the hall, please?” Bucky gestures towards the door across the room. “Since we’re all here already and the show is going to start soon we can as well take our seats already.”

When they don't move, Bucky ushers them forward, waving his arms as if they were a flock of chickens. Sometimes it feels like they are. Eventually, they do move and Bucky sends a small smile towards Steve who hangs back waiting for him.

"So, um—," Steve starts, looking at the small group in front of them before glancing back at Bucky. "Your wife couldn't come?"

Steve's voice is conversational so he seems surprised when Bucky halts to a stop.

"I'm—” Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. "I don't have a wife."

"Oh." Steve looks both confused and embarrassed now. "I'm sorry, I didn't— I just assumed, since Alex mentioned her mum a lot and— sorry."

"Oh no, Bucky's single," Scott says, apparently hearing the little exchange.

"And desperately ready to mingle," Clint prompts helpfully, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

It feels like Bucky has been doing nothing but groaning in distress during the past few minutes. "I'm not desperate—"

"I'm the mum!" comes Natasha's chipper voice from Clint's video call and he kindly turns the phone around. "Not the wife, though. James's too insufferable as anything but a friend. And likes men too much for that."

"Tasha, for fuck's sake," Bucky says loudly, getting a dirty look from some random mum who overhears him.

He pointedly doesn't look at Steve throughout this whole exchange. Why do his friends hate him so much? He doesn't deserve to be treated like this.

"Can we just—" Bucky takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, "not talk about this and to the performance, please. It's starting soon."

It's Hope who stops this madness and decides not to ignore Bucky's obvious discomfort. With a smile directed at both Steve and Bucky, she takes Scott by his elbow and turns him around, pushing Clint slightly towards the hall. They don't object. Bucky has never been more grateful for her.

It's not until a few minutes later when they are all seated in the hall, surrounded by the quiet murmur of different conversations before the show, when Steve leans closer from his seat next to Bucky's.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Steve says quietly.

Bucky chances a look at him. The lightning is dim but the distance between them is small enough for Bucky to make out the dark blush dusting Steve's cheeks.

"It's not your fault my friends are idiots," Bucky jokes to lighten the mood. "Should've worn ya' before I've invited you."

Steve laughs at that. "Still, though. Shouldn't have just assumed things."

"It was a perfectly normal assumption to make." Bucky points out. "Really, don't stress about it. It's all good."

For a moment, Steve doesn't look convinced but eventually he nods and smiles. Bucky reciprocates the gesture. For a moment they just look at each other but their attention is soon drawn towards the front of the room. Some more lights above the stage appear when the owner of the studio walks in with a smile, asking everyone to take a seat. Her introductions are pretty standard and she keeps them short. Soon enough, the main show begins.

It’s really entertaining, even considering the fact that the age of the performers varies between 4 and 12 years old. They’re dancing in many configurations, the smallest dancers mostly in big groups and Bucky smiles the whole time, watching their — sometimes still clumsy but oh so cheery — dancing. Two of the oldest kids perform an amazing pas de deux to the music from Sleeping Beauty. They dance to a lot of contemporary music and loads of Disney songs, to Steve’s great delight. Bucky only shakes his head with a disbelieving smile when he hears Steve singing along to A Whole New World under his breath. Feeling Bucky’s eyes on him, Steve only shrugs and laughs quietly.

Alex is in two group dances and she has her own solo performance. She’s brilliant in all of them. And it’s not just Bucky’s biased opinions, because the hall erupts in loud applause when she finishes her solo with a bow and a huge smile on her face. Watching the concentration on her face, mixed with the absolute joy of dancing makes Bucky teary-eyed and by the end of her last performance he doesn’t even try to stop the tears. All the pride he feels, threatens to tear him apart. He would be the proudest even if she sucked but the fact that she manages to awe everyone in the room makes it all so much better.

After the recital is over, some of the guests leave to wait in the lobby but Bucky and his friends stick around in the hall, moving closer to the stage. Soon enough, Alex bolts from backstage, still in her dress and everything and launches herself into Bucky’s arms.

“You were incredible, my love!" Bucky says, hugging her tight and kissing the side of her face. “I’m so proud of you! You made me cry real tears, you were so beautiful.”

“Thanks, papa,” Alex laughs, leaning away a bit to look at him, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Soon enough, she gets whipped away from Bucky’s embrace by Clint who starts spinning her around the room, both of them shrieking loudly. They earn some disapproving looks by doing that, but they couldn’t care less. Bucky only watches them with a fond smile, laughing and getting emotional again when Alexandra notices the huge bouquet they’ve bought just for her. She talks briefly with Natasha - the video conference was on during the whole performance so even though Nat couldn’t be here in person, she could still watch the whole thing. Natasha apologises for not being there but promises to make it to the next recital that is supposed to happen around New Year’s Eve and she points out how proud she is every two words.

Bucky lets everybody congratulate his little girl and shower her with the love she deserves. He’ll have plenty of time to do that at home. So he takes a step back and stands next to Steve.

Steve, who waits politely, probably not wanting to interrupt as he just watches it all with a smile on his face. But when Alex’s eyes finally land on him, matching big smiles bloom on both of their faces.

“Steve! You came!” Alex exclaims, bouncing closer to where Steve and Bucky are standing.

“Of course I did,” Steve says and he crouches to be on Alex’s eye level. “You were incredible! Thank you so much for inviting me, it was so worth it. And I have a little gift for you.”

Hearing that, Alex starts bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement and she watches as Steve retrieves the drawing. The moment her eyes land on it, she lets out a small gasp. Just like Bucky did before, she moves her hand as if she wants to touch it but stops, afraid to ruin it. When she looks up at Steve, her eyes seem a little watery.

“It’s for me?” she asks and when Steve nods, she carefully takes it from his hands. “I love it! Thank you so much, Steve!”

With that, she wraps her small arms around Steve’s neck. The movement catches Steve off guard, almost enough to make him lose his balance and Bucky laughs at the surprised look Steve sends him.

“You’re so welcome, Alexandra,” Steve says eventually, rubbing her back. “I’m happy you like it. Thank you again for inviting me.”

“Papa, look!” Alex yells, moving away from Steve and proudly showing Bucky the drawing. “It’s me!”

“It is!” Bucky agrees, hugging her close one more time. “It's my wonderful little ballerina!"

***

After the performance, they all decide to go to a restaurant for a celebratory dinner. Steve tries to flee but both Clint and Hope — which comes out as a bit of surprise to Bucky — nag him to join them. He sends a look at Bucky, probably hoping Bucky's gonna back him up.

He doesn't. Instead, both he and Alex send Steve their best puppy dog eyes saying that they'll love if Steve came along. Steve is not able to resist such power.

Bucky's not sure why he insists so hard on Steve coming with them, not really knowing what to expect. It turns out he had nothing to worry about. Steve fits right in with their little group. The evening is very nice and they all feel comfortable in each other's company. Bucky's a bit afraid at the beginning, when Clint starts asking some pretty nosy questions and is being his horrible self. Everyone except Steve has gotten used to it and they know that Clint is the best friend one can have but for some reason, he sometimes hides it quite well. But Steve doesn’t seem to be judging or getting annoyed in any way. Quite the opposite. It also turns out that under all of Steve’s gold-heartedness hides a little asshole with witty comebacks and good-natured jabs at whoever tries to mess with him. He can totally keep up with whatever Clint’s up to at any given moment.

It's enough to say that Clint absolutely loves it.

They don’t stay at the restaurant for too long. They can’t since Alex is tired after all of today’s excitement. She tries very hard to hide it, though. Fortunately for her, Bucky knows her better and he saves her from crossing the line between happy and miserably exhausted. No matter how nice the evening is going so far, they should go. So for the sake of Alex’s pride, Bucky says he’s getting tired and the two of them are probably going to head home. It's not even a lie. Considering he's only 29 and it's not even 10 p.m. it's kind of sad that he really does feel a bit sleepy. Alex tries to protest but it’s weak, which only proves Bucky’s assessment of her energy levels was correct. Of course, everyone else jumps to their feet almost immediately. They exchange hugs and thank-you’s and more congratulations for Alexandra and finally some goodbye’s as they all go in different directions.

The short walk home wakes Alex up a bit. And because it's still her big night, Bucky lets her stay up for a little longer than usually when they finally get home. They cuddle on the couch and watch How to Train Your Dragon together, while sharing a bowl of ice cream. Of course their private little celebrations can’t start until the drawing from Steve is safely put away in Alex's room with promises that Bucky will hang it tomorrow.

About halfway through the movie Alex drifts off to sleep, curled safely on Bucky's lap. He takes a few extra minutes stroking her hair, trying not to think too much about how big she's getting or that soon she won't be so happy about cuddling with her papa anymore. Eventually, Bucky picks her up gently and carries her to her room. He finishes the movie and gets himself an extra scoop of ice cream before he heads to bed.

The next morning Alex almost drags him out of bed, rushes him through breakfast and almost pushes him out of the door. All that because he promised they're gonna shop for things they need to put the portrait from Steve on the wall. Bucky is not even mad. It is a gorgeous piece of art and he's really happy that Alex is so thrilled with it.

A few hours, some drilling and vacuuming tons of dust later, he snaps a picture of the drawing hanging proudly on the wall above the chest of drawers in Alex's bed. He attaches it to a message.

To: Steve Guess who got bullied into an IKEA trip at 10 in the morning on a Saturday just to buy a frame? Saturday, 12:30 A.M.

From: Steve Sorry? :) Saturday, 12:31 A.M.

From: Steve I'm honoured she likes it so much, though. Saturday, 12:32 A.M.

To: Steve I bet you're not sorry at all, you jump out of buildings for fun, you can't be trusted. Saturday, 12:37 A.M.

From: Steve I did NOT jump out of a building, stop saying that! And what happened to "you're amazing, Steve"? Saturday, 12:40 A.M.

To: Steve ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Saturday, 12:41 A.M.

***

After all the emotions from yesterday, Saturday passes in a nice yet uneventful way. Alex falls asleep on her feet at barely half past seven, but it’s no surprise that the tiredness has finally caught up to her. She doesn’t even try to argue when Bucky suggests she should head to bed earlier. After tucking her in, he lays down on the couch for a second, promising himself that he’ll do the dishes before heading to bed. Suddenly, it’s past 10 P.M. and he’s mindlessly watching some late-night reruns of Say Yes to The Dress. He’s not even surprised at this turn of events.

The noise his phone makes blasts in the quiet of the living room, making Bucky jump. He’s in such a rush to turn off the ringing that he drops the phone on his face, accidentally answering the incoming video call.

“Hi, dimwit. Did you just drop your phone on your face again?” He hears Natasha’s amused voice.

“I’ve never dropped a phone on my face in my life, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky answers as he rubs his aching nose that has taken most of the impact.

Natasha only rolls her eyes at that. “My girl already asleep?”

“Yeah, went to bed before 8 p.m. and i bet she’ll sleep in tomorrow. She was positively exhausted today.”

“I’m not even surprised. She deserves some rest though, she was so brilliant last night,” Natasha says with a sad smile. “I hate that I couldn’t be there.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Tasha. She understands,” Bucky tries to convince her. “Besides you’re gonna be here for Christmas, right?”

Natasha is not reassured. She thinks she hides it well enough for Bucky not to notice, but he’s known her for too long. She sighs but then answers with a small smile. “Yeah, I will be home for most of December. I’ll need to go to Cali for a bit, as always, but I should be back for Christmas.”

“That’s great,” Bucky smiles. “We miss you here and you’ll be just in time to see Alex in the Nutcracker, you know that one’s even more important to her.”

“Can’t wait. She’s gonna outmatch me sooner than I’ve expected.”

“She will and I don’t even feel sorry for you. She’s just so incredible. Like with your skills and my brains and also my good looks she’s destined for great things. I feel kind of bad for other kids,” Bucky chuckles but he only half-jokes.

In response he gets a raised eyebrow from Natasha. “I think you’ve meant my skills, my brains and my good looks and your—,” she waves her hand towards him dismissively. “I mean, I’m sure there’s something, we’ll figure it out at some point. Maybe it’s your love for Say Yes to the Dress, who knows.

“I’m—,” Bucky tries to defend himself but the grin on Natasha’s face tells him it’s a lost fight. He didn’t expect Natasha to recognise the background noise of his TV but then — it’s Natasha, so he should have. “You’re so full of shit, Romanoff.”

“I’m not. You are though,” Natasha says and when Bucky sends her a questioning look, she explains with a cheeky smirk. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me you’ve found yourself a new, smoking hot friend!”

“You know what, I don’t have to put up with this, I’m gonna go to bed,” Bucky sighs, but he makes no move to actually hang up.

Natasha only laughs triumphantly. “Oh my, why are you so defensive all of sudden? I didn’t say anything bad, did I?”

“You’re something bad in general, so I’m always prepared. Why are you all so obsessed with Steve? I have to put up with Clint already, so please, leave me alone.”

“We just care about you! And since you’ve been stuck with just us for ages, we’re excited there’s someone new, kind and handsome in your life!” the grin on her face makes Bucky groan out loud. “He seems nice and I hope you’ll be able to get to know him better. In a lot of ways.”

“See? This is exactly what I meant. I can’t believe I’ve been friends with you for so long.”

Another laugh escapes her mouth but her eyes soften when she looks back at him a moment later. “Really, though. You can’t be alone your whole life. And don’t bullshit me saying that you have Alex, you know that’s not my point. You’re just a huge softie who needs someone to make heart eyes at, it’s basically in your blood.”

Bucky chuckles in disbelief, not sure how this conversation got to this point. “What are you even talking about? I’ve known Steve for way too little for you to say all this. I’ve seen him in person twice. Twice, Natasha.”

“I’m not saying it has to be Steve, I know you’ve just met him. It was just a side note, completely unrelated to Steve. If anyone’s making a connection here, it’s you. So maybe you should think about that.” Natasha looks at him pointedly and when Bucky tries to chime in, she doesn’t let him. “Also on a completely unrelated note, Steve seems like a good guy, if you think about dating. And if you think about casual, he’s also smoking hot.”

“You’ve already mentioned that,” Bucky points out. “And you’ve only seen him via video chat.”

“Well, he is and it was clear even through Clint’s shitty camera.”

It’s hard to disagree with that. Even though Natasha is insane and he is not going to date anyone in the near future, let alone Steve whom he barely knows. He can objectively agree that Steve is unfairly attractive, though.

“Before you go all defensive and mean again — I just want you to be happy, James,” Natasha says. “And maybe having around someone who’s not Clint would be good for you.”

Bucky shakes his head with a chuckle. “You might have a point. But dating is not really on my priority list and I don’t think it’s a good time to change that now.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Natasha groans. “I really hope it won’t turn out that our daughter actually inherited your brains, because you’re an idiot.” She takes a deep sigh and changes the topic. “But let’s get to the important things now — is it just me or the dresses he shows this Caroline chick are getting uglier and uglier?”

“Oh God, I know, right? I don’t think I can handle another one of those monstrosities.”

taglist: @steverrogers @till-the-end-of-the-line-punk (@ anyone else - let me know if you want to be tagged ♥

#stucky #stevebucky #stucky fic #stevebucky fic #stevebucky fanfiction #stucky fanfiction #where i'm meant to be #chapter 3 #i love you all and i wish you a nice day and i hope you like it :')#my writings

27 notes · View notes

goodomensblog · 5 years ago

Text

Afterward - Part 13

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

(Another landslide winner! #2 was the clear favorite. Thank you for voting!)

Afterward - - - Part 13

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“If you want to keep that hand, demon, you’ll release me. Now.”

Crowley, despite very much wanting to keep said hand, does not let go.

When Gabriel reaches over his shoulder, pulling his Heavenly sword from the aether, Crowley twists out of the way. “Woah, woah, woah - hey! Hold on. Just wait.”

“Just wait?” Gabriel snaps, voice dripping with incredulity. “Heaven is under attack, and you want me to just wait?”

“What about Beelzebub?”

“What about them? Maybe - just maybe it’s a bunch of demons who are fighting my angels right now!”

“That thing, whatever it was we felt - that was not demonic, you know it as well as I do.”

“Then what the fuck are my angels fighting?” Gabriel asks, his knuckles going white around the sword pulled halfway into existence.

From beyond the hall, the cries have grown louder, fiercer - more desperate. There is a static crackling in the air and the acrid, burnt smell of ozone.

Crowley, after risking a glance at the sword, releases Gabriel’s sleeve - and instead, grabs him by the wrist.

“Something,” Crowley hisses, “that was strong enough to bust into Heaven with one blow. Something that I’ve never encountered - and I once traveled all the universe hanging stars. Something that’s, by the sounds of it, carving through ranks of highly trained angelic warriors like butter.”

“That’s why,” Gabriel says, giving his arm a savage yank, “I need to-”

“That’s why you’re gonna want a bloody Lord of Hell in fighting shape!”

At that, Gabriel’s struggles momentarily cease. He blinks, scoffing, “You can’t seriously think-”

“I think that Beelzebub wants to live. And they - like Aziraphale and myself, are currently stuck in Heaven with you, a bunch of angels, and whatever the fuck that thing is. So be smart about this, you giant idiot. Save Beelzebub. Help us find out what they know. And maybe, just maybe we can all use Beelzebub, Lord of Hell, to help us get out of this god damned- er, blessed - augh - whatever! Predicament!” Crowley finishes, chest heaving.

It isn’t exactly a lie. While Crowley is certain Beelzebub, like a cornered cat, will indeed willingly fight whatever this thing is, he is not at all sure how battle ready old Beelzebub will be after just a handful of Hellfire.

But Gabriel doesn’t need to know that.

White knuckled fingers loosen their hold on the sword’s gleaming hilt. Gabriel sinks back. Running a hand up and over his face, he mutters to himself, and sharp, ugly curses fill the spaces between his breaths. When his eyes open, his razor-edge gaze zeroes in on Crowley’s hand. “Seriously. Stop touching me.”

Crowley’s hand snaps open.

“I won’t abandon my soldiers. Not now. Not when they need me,” Gabriel says, yanking his jacket straight. “So you’ll have to retrieve the Hellfire.”

Crowley, who had realistically expected this conversation to end with one of them flipping the middle finger and the other attempting to administer a beheading, takes a moment to process this development.

“I - wait - you want me to-?”

“Yes. Obviously. Shut up.”

“Right. Okay,” Crowley says, and shakes his head. “Wait, where-”

“Do you remember where the records are stored?”

Crowley pauses at that.

His memory of Heaven - it’s strange. In many ways, it blurs together, a mural of incandescent colors, textures, half-recalled musical notes, voices - that from up close, are nearly incomprehensible.

But there are moments of clarity. As if he has, for a second, stepped back a pace, and sees just a glimpse of the full thing; an expansive mural that his mosaic memories press together to create. He knows he hung the stars. And he knows, from some forgotten space in him mind, where in these white marble halls the records are kept.

“Yes,” Crowley says, because he can picture the room in his mind now: those twin pillars on either side of that tall, golden door.

“It’s stored on the highest level, in the silver chest,” Gabriel says, curt.

“Got it,” Crowley says, already retreating - because now that Gabriel has given him the information he needs, Crowley doesn’t want to go and give the archangel a chance to change his mind.

But Gabriel has already turned away. Black, polished shoes tapping smartly against white marble, the angel strolls down the hall and draws a gleaming sword out of the air.

Crowley is mentally mapping his route. He’ll need to take the first door on the right, then cross the atrium and -

Gabriel’s shout catches him before he can leave.

“By the way, I’m not an idiot, demon. I do know that a single jar of expired Hellfire’s not exactly going to do any demonic miracles.” Gabriel stands at the end of the hall, violet eyes bright in the half light. “And I know Beelzebub’s not going to help anyone anytime soon.”

Crowley stops, turning fully back.

Gabriel lifts the sword, jabbing the blade in Crowley’s direction. “After all this is done, I will be in touch. I expect Beelzebub to share the information they promised me.”

Crowley stares, baffled. “What are you-”

“No - nuh - shush!” Gabriel snaps, waving the sword. “In my room, there’s a passageway out of Heaven. It’s behind the tapestry. After you heal Beelzebub, take them and go.”

“Ohh-kay,” Crowley says, trying to wrap his mind around this second surprising development. “You - that’s - uh - huh. You know, that’s actually pretty nice of you, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, no - zip it,” Gabriel bites out, shifting with obvious discomfiture. “The last thing I need is anyone finding a couple of demons and a bad angel in my private rooms. Take Beelzebub and get out.” And with a final jab in Crowley’s direction, Gabriel spins the sword with a flourish and disappears into a beam of screaming light.

“What a nutcase,” Crowley says to the empty hallway.

He crosses the atrium at a sprint, keeping a careful eye out for angels - but the atrium and surrounding halls are empty. Heaven’s full forces have been mustered, then. It’s a sobering thought, and one that makes Crowley run just a little faster.

As he runs, he can’t help but think of Uriel and Gabriel’s conversation. God is….missing? Could it possibly be true? Crowley’s head tilts back, as if he might spy Her amongst the arched ceiling tiles stretching forlornly above.

She couldn’t be gone, right?

After all, where would She go?

The entrance to the Hall of Records is as abandoned as the rest of Heaven, and Crowley flings open it’s arched doors. The Records Room is - staggering. Crowley’s step slow as shelves and stairs rise up around him. His footsteps echo - from marble floors, between pillars, up winding stairs, and fading as they rise into the cavernous dome extending far, far above.

Crowley swears softly, and that echoes too.

As his shoe touches the first stair, he thinks of where he wants to be: the top floor; and when he reaches the second step, the domed ceiling is suddenly directly above him - and the top floor, bathed in gold, is before him, as though it had always been.

Crowley doesn’t have time for surprise or awe, so he focuses instead on the chest; which is sitting, unbothered, at the far side of the room.

He half expects some kind of booby trap, so when the silver lid slides unhesitatingly open, Crowley can’t help but flinch back.

Nothing happens.

Brows lifted, Crowley peers tentatively over the chest’s edge. There, at its center, sits a black jar. Sniffing the air, Crowley can just make out the slightest hints of sulfur.

Tensing, he reaches a hand in - and is relieved when his fingers close over the lid of the jar. He draws it out - and breathes a grateful sigh when no traps spring and no alarms blare.

Kneeling before the chest, he cracks the jar’s lid. When roaring heat surges forth, he snaps the lid back.

“Yep, that’s the stuff,” he says, and screws the lid tight.

Crowley takes the stairs at a run. On the first step, he thinks of the ground floor, and on the second step, he steps confidently into - a room stacked with scrolls.

“Huh,” he says, craning his head back to look at rich oak shelves and the layers of pale scrolls artfully piled upon them. “You’re not what I wanted.”

Deciding to try again, Crowley is turning back to the stairs when faded paint catches his eye.

He stops.

The mural is nearly entirely covered by shelves and scrolls. The visible section is a web of cracked paint and fading colors - a stark contrast to Heaven’s typically immaculate decor. But even faded as it is, Crowley can make out, clear as day, a Bentley - his Bentley, painted in peeling fresco.

Crowley blinks. Rubs his eyes. Squints, and blinks again.

“That’s....weird.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rushing back with the Hellfire, Crowley has stumbled upon an impossible oddity in the Hall of Records. When faced with this strange omen, Crowley will…

Investigate. He doesn’t have much time to spare, but he can’t leave without uncovering the other side of this mysterious mural.

Leave. The mural is strange, but time is of the essence. Crowley can’t risk the detour.

Please comment or reblog to vote! I can’t wait to see what you all choose :)

Part 14

#good omens #my writing #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #choose your own adventure fic #good omens choose your own adventure #aziraphale #crowely #aziraphale x crowley #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub

272 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

Text

Flower | 05

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, light angst, mentions of smut

; Word Count: 4k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: The second half of the date! :D this is literally how I talk how in real life btw, people who know me have learnt to just put up with my random topics and I thought it would be fun to put them in too. Hoseok is a sweetheart, I love him :3 Please let me know what you think and reblog if you liked! <3

; Flower Masterpost

Hoseok had been right that this place smelled delicious and your stomach had begun rumbling even before you’d been seated. It wasn’t hugely busy, which was surprising given it was a Friday night but it meant that you’d been given a window seat, letting you look out at the other bright store fronts and the people out doing their late night shopping.

The two of you had been served quickly, the waiter taking down your order of a chicken jalfrezi with pilau rice and Hoseok’s chicken keema balti while the two of you shared a large peshwari naan. He’d ordered a beer as well while you’d settled for a Diet Coke, looking down shyly as you’d ordered it and wondering if it wasn’t sophisticated enough for a date.

But Hoseok hadn’t said anything, just given a soft smile as he’d waited until the waiter had moved on. Neither of you had really said anything of interest since entering, mainly just focusing on the menu and deciding what you wanted. Which was stupid, because you got the same thing every time and it seemed like Hoseok had a preset idea of what he wanted as well.

And now...you were both sat waiting expectantly for your food. This meant that you had finally entered the most dreaded part of the date for you. The bit where you meant to talk to him like a normal person and not someone who found the very idea of small talk daunting and overwhelming.

Which was why you were currently fidgeting with your napkin, eyes lowered down to the white fabric and fingers brushing over it before moving back. You were nervous now, any sense of camaraderie and easiness with him gone as your mind frantically worked for a topic that you could engage him with.

Metal music wasn’t an option; you didn’t listen to it and so had absolutely zero idea of what to say in regards to that. You also didn’t really understand photography, so you couldn’t really talk about that. Though, then again, it might get him to talk. It was always easier if the other person was interested as you could just rebound of them.

“You don’t have many pictures of makeup like that on your Facebook. Is that like...some hidden talent?” Hoseok asks suddenly, taking a deep drink of his beer before tilting his head to look at you expectantly. Your mind blanked for a moment, eyes wide as you blinked at him before your mouth opened.

“You’ve looked at my Facebook?” The words are stupid and you mentally cringe, wishing you could just slap yourself on the fact without looking an even bigger idiot. But Hoseok just smiles and laughs, his face once more extraordinarily beautiful and you feel a tiny kernel of resentment at the fact he can look that good without needing to spend half an hour staring into a mirror with hundreds of dollars of expensive makeup sat around him.

“Of course I have. Isn’t that like...rule number one when you friend someone on Facebook? You go through all their pictures and stuff...don’t tell you haven’t done the same to me.” He wags a finger at you then teasingly, lips turned into a pretty smile.

Which only turns into a deep and husky laugh when your eyes dart away from him in embarrassment, fully aware that you had in fact looked at all of his photos and posts. In fact, you’d probably done worse than him given that you’d drooled over him with Soyeon and Chungha.

“It’s okay. I fully admit to it so don’t get too worried or upset over it. But still...you don’t seem to wear makeup in a lot in them?” He looks quizzically at you and you wonder for a moment if he actually cares or if he’s just finding a subject to talk about.

You decide to indulge him anyway, thankful for the topic even if it’s not the most interesting thing you can think of to talk about.

“I mostly post makeup things on my Instagram. You probably noticed but...I don’t really use Facebook. Mostly to just watch videos that pop up. You know those ones where it’s like…’oh your friend liked this’ or it’s just from a random site that for some reason turns up? And then you start watching it and you start out watching a sweet story of a guy adopting a disabled cat and loving her but then half an hour later you realise you’re laid in bed watching a video of how to make a toilet seat out of coloured pencils and wonder what you’re doing with your life?”

Hoseok stares at you for a quick second and you momentarily panic, realising you’d blindly started talking about something entirely unrelated before he bursts into laughter, one hand coming up to cover his mouth as pure amusement dances in his eyes.

“Oh god, I’m so glad I’m not the only one! I ended up watching a video the other day of...oh god, what was it? They were like...making stuff for dolls? And it was very interesting to watch her make all these super tiny accessories but in the back of my mind all I could think was…’who has the time for this?!’” You can’t help but laugh at that, gesturing wildly as you nod.

“Yes! I’ve seen that one! Or those ones where they’re life hacks and I’ll be sat there like ‘this is literally the worst thing I’ve ever seen’. There was one about Christmas hacks and like...what is the point? I think one of them was like, oh make this as a gift for your friend! And it was like...they literally made a sponge into a teddy. It just looked like a sponge...as a teddy. I mean...I love my best friends but if that’s all they got me…”

“Well...it’s the thought that counts, isn't it?” Hoseok teases, white teeth biting his lower lip and avoiding his lip ring.

“Not when all they’ve got me a fucking sponge. There’s being thoughtful with your gifts and then there’s...that.”

“I’m laughing but I agree. In fact, back on the subject of makeup, there was one I saw the other day where a hack to give yourself fuller lips was apparently...to glue your upper lip to the skin above your lip? And it genuinely just looked like they’d just glued their lips.” You snort at that, fingers rubbing at your own lips as you cringe at the thought of doing that.

“Well, I definitely don’t do that. Although I did try using this lip plumping thing once because I’d seen people on YouTube use it. And like...it worked but everyone said it hurt and I just thought they were exaggerating. They weren’t, it felt like a thousand bees had kissed me with their ass stings and it wasn’t even worth the end result. Honestly.” Hoseok looks like he’s trying desperately not to laugh and you eyeball him warily.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment and you watch closely as his lips pursed, evidently trying to control his reaction as best he can before he finally speaks, fingers tracing his cutlery as he looks down with a smirk.

“Got any...uh...got any pictures of that? Bet it’s interesting.” You throw your napkin at him at him, causing him to laugh even harder as his hands come up to protect his face. He takes the now open napkin and carefully folds it before handing it back to you carefully.

You’re both interrupted from any further conversation by the arrival of your food and your mouth waters as the small metal bowl of chicken jalfrezi is served to you on top of a plate while a second bowl of rice is placed down. The giant naan is placed between you both and you hum in delight, hands clapping together excitedly as you wriggle in your chair, completely oblivious to the amused face Hoseok wears.

“Mmmm! I love jalfrezi.” Reaching out, you begin to sort out your plate before reaching out and grabbing a piece of naan, tearing it off and popping it into your mouth with a long and low hum of satisfaction. Hoseok eyes you for a moment before taking a bite, nodding in his own satisfaction.

Neither of you speak for a few moments more as you both focus on eating, perfectly content with stuffing your mouth full of wonderfully spiced foods before adding the soothing naan to calm your mouth. Looking up at Hoseok finally, you note the way he’s eyes are focused down as he uses some of the naan to wipe at some sauce on the edge of his plate, chewing on it happily.

From this angle, you can see down the slope of the elegant nose while his dark hair falls forward into his eyes. He’s honestly beautiful and the nerves that had slipped away at your easy conversation come back.

But if there’s one thing about you, it’s that you’re brutally honest and your mouth begins working before you even mean for it to. And what you say would have Soyeon and Chungha cursing to the heavens, you just know it.

“I’m sorry if I’m a little awkward to talk to. I don’t really know how to talk to people. I should probably stop talking now. This isn’t how a date is meant to go,” You cringe, body going warm as Hoseok slows his eating down before shaking his head.

“Well...it was going good until that,” He’s smiling as he says it though, blunting what could have been a harsh and direct comment. “It’s okay. Like I said at the start of it all, I’ve kinda guessed that about you. And there’s no one way for a date to go. I once had a date where a girl literally threw up on me. I still went on a second date with her, so you’re doing great.”

Your eyes widen while your face cringes slightly, sympathy for him rushing through you. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. That would be the worst for me. I have sympathy sickness thing so I’d have thrown up on her. What did you do that made her throw up?”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head and running his hand through his hair as he looks out the window, obviously recollecting.

“Why do you assume I did something? I did nothing. We went out to a bar, we got a lil’ drunk. Let’s just say...her gag reflex seemed to have been shortened by alcohol. And that’s all I’m saying on that.” His cheeks are a soft pink in the lighting of the restaurant and you frown, brows coming together as you try to work out what he’s saying.

And then it clicks and you gasp, eyes going wide.

“Holy fuck. She threw up on your dick?” You whisper harshly and Hoseok immediately makes a shushing motion, his cheeks no longer a rose gold but instead a fire engine red that is at complete odds with his badass look. He does not look like the kind of man to be embarrassed about having that story told and yet here he is, almost writhing in shame.

“Shh, please. God. It wasn’t her fault. I mean...well it doesn’t matter. Either way, I still took her out for a second date. So you are doing absolutely amazing, I swear.” His hands are held up in appeasement now and a small part of you takes in how pretty his hands are, the fingers long and elegant while a few silver rings wrap themselves around some of the digits.

Which provides a very strange state of being given you’ve just imagined his dick covered in vomit and now you’re imagining those fingers between your legs. Sexual attraction is a strange beast indeed.

“Well...I’m not gonna suck your dick tonight so you don’t have to worry about vomiting.” The words come out blunt and Hoseok’s eyes widen almost comically, his jaw dropping while his brows lift. And your hand slaps onto your mouth as you realise what you’d just said out loud, quickly looking around and slumping in relief when you realise that there’s no one really within earshot of you.

“...good to know. I er...wasn’t expecting it, just so you know. A blowjob...not the throwing up part. Actually I wasn’t expecting either of them. Though I don’t know why I would - you know what? I’m just gonna shut up and eat.” And with that, he stuffs his mouth full of chicken as he stares firmly at the table.

You can’t help the small laugh of amusement that leaves you, your fork moving around some of your rice slowly as you recognise the sense of awkwardness that lays itself heavily on the tablet. It’s something that you’re often familiar with, even if you hate it, but you get the sense that it’s not something Mr Friendly over there is used to.

So you do what you always do when you’re feeling uncomfortable or awkward. Which is to just blurt out the first fact that comes to mind.

“Did you know blowing up the moon is a really bad idea?”

The silence now is no longer awkward, which you feel proud over, but that doesn’t stop the look of pure confusion from Hoseok as he looks back up at you. A spoonful of curry and rice is halfway to his mouth and you can see the inner fight inside before he shrugs.

“Well...yeah. I mean...it’d fuck the tides up.” Immediately you’re shaking your head and you soon launch into an in depth discussion about why destroying the moon is a bad idea. And even though it’s probably the most random topic Hoseok has probably discussed all day...he goes along with it and finds himself laughing once more. Even arguing with you a little on certain facts before giving in and bowing to your evidently better knowledge on the subject.

But the weirdness thankfully disappears quickly as the topics soon blend into one another. And thankfully, you both managed to get in some personal discussions about yourselves. You’d told him about how you’d actually always wanted to work with horses but that your family didn’t make enough money to get you to a stables or anything when you were younger.

Which meant that you’d eventually just done a degree in English literature, embracing your passion and love for reading books if you couldn't do anything with horses. Plus, you weren’t smart enough to do anything like equine sciences and you were too soft to be a veterinarian. You couldn’t handle having to put animals down.

And the reward for your four years of hard work and passion? A job as an administration assistant at an electrical company. Obviously a hugely glamorous job that you had evidently been aspiring to when you were a child.

Not that you had anything against people who also did this job, but it wasn’t particularly interesting and you didn’t really see a future career for yourself. Was this how everyone your age felt or something? You didn’t really have any hugely transferable skills and so had been stuck at this level for a while.

Hoseok on the other hand, had apparently gone to college without the intention of actually really doing anything. In fact, he’d happened to just enroll in a computer science class just because he thought he’d be able to play games throughout the whole class without complaining too much. And then he’d discovered that he actually really enjoyed it and was good at it.

Which had led him to his job, which equally didn’t sound hugely interesting but was apparently much better paid than yours. You’d pouted at that for a few minutes, wondering if it was possible to go back in time and tell yourself to do something better with your life.

But still, the conversation had finally begun to gain some semblance of a flow and you found yourself enjoying your time with him. He made you laugh and made you feel comfortable, went along with your random moments of weirdness - such as the tangent about how on earth do you milk an almond when you told him that you preferred to drink almond milk to normal - and seemed to be enjoying himself.

Or at least...you’d hoped he had.

He’d been polite with the bill as well, not immediately assuming that you’d be okay with him paying and instead asking if you’d be okay with that or if you wanted to pay half. You’d shyly let him, not telling him that no one had ever paid for your date before and you hadn’t really known what to do with yourself after that.

And now you were walking outside, slowly heading to where you parked your car because he’d insisted that he wasn’t going to let you walk alone. Part of you wanted to rebel against that, be all ‘down with the patriarchy’ and shit but then you’d looked at the dark street and simply agreed. Because you hated walking on your own in the dark.

Someone who was as nervous and anxious as you didn’t particularly do well with that, and quite often your imagination would run wild if someone was walking behind you.

So despite the fact that the conversation had petered out once more, you felt oddly comfortable around him. In that way that you rarely felt with most people. Normally, you felt an incessant need to fill the dead air if you were with someone with an irrational fear that if they weren’t talking then it meant that they didn’t like you.

It was stupid obviously, but that was because it was an irrational fear. It wasn’t meant to make sense!

But with Hoseok, despite how overwhelmingly intimidating you found him in terms of his looks, had an incredibly friendly personality that seemed to encourage you to be more open and comfortable with him. He laughed with you, not at you. Not unless you were specifically inviting him to that is.

He had carefully planned out your first date to make sure that it would accommodate your evident shyness, finding a way to encourage you to talk to him without having to scramble for conversation. And he’d certainly rolled with the punches when you’d pulled out your strange facts.

You almost got the sense that he enjoyed them, stretching his brain in bizarre ways as he tried to keep up with how your mind seemed to move a hundred miles a minute. It was something you appreciated; how hard he’d tried to keep the conversation light and easy without leaving too much on you to try and fumble your way through it.

Looking up at him, you take in the sight of his astoundingly beautiful side profile in the passing street lights and bite your lip in silent awe. As if this man, this prime example of nature coming together in the most beautiful way possible, had found you interesting enough to not only take you on a date...but stay with you the whole night.

And even walk you to your car! He wasn’t desperately ready to be rid of you, but was actively spending more time with you.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even realise when you’d arrived the place you’d parked your car, Hoseok pausing and looking at you with expectant brows. For a second you simply stared back blankly, wondering what he’s doing before you realise and make an ‘oh’ expression.

“Oh, sorry. Miles away. Erm...thank you. For walking me. And err...everything tonight. It was...nice.” Oh yeah, definitely pulling him in with that one.

But he just smiles. “Just nice? It was my talk of dick vomit that dropped it down a notch, wasn't it? 10/10 conversation topic there Hoseok.”

And that’s why you like him even more, not just because he’s handsome but also because he has a personality that appeals to you. Not too afraid to be self-deprecating while also saving you from any awkwardness. Like he almost knew you wouldn’t be too comfortable with this and was finding a way to make things easier on you.

It made you feel a bit guilty that he was having to do that, but you simply let out a quiet sigh and straightened your shoulders.

“Hey...that might be one of my kinks,” You tease, watching as his faces falls into what can only be politely called a grimace and you giggle. “I’m kidding. But still...thank you. For not...just ghosting or standing me up. Or leaving halfway through. Had that happen once. Mortifying but I got a free meal ‘cos the waiter felt sorry for me.”

And now he looks horrified.

“Wow, that’s an ass move. My mom would be beat my ass raw if I ever thought of even doing that. Well...the good news is that at no point tonight did I want to leave. I very much enjoyed tonight. And you. And...I kinda hope you’ll want to do it again...if you want to.” Your body does something very strange at that; your stomach tightens and flips while nervous excitement streaks through you, happiness and a need to be sick fighting together.

“Oh god, I’m trying really hard to not be the second girl to vomit on you right now. I’m sorry.” You may not physically vomit but you certainly word vomit, cringing while he lets out a soft laugh. And then his hands are gently tilting your chin up, letting you lock with him before he gives you a brilliant and bright smile.

“Please don’t. A man only needs one ‘girl vomiting on him’ story in his life. I’m going to let you get in your car now before you have a heart attack or something, because you look like you are and I am most definitely not a doctor. And my track record of first dates will evidently look even better if you end up in hospital. So...I will text. Not call, because I don’t think you’ll like that. Is that okay?”

He’s looking at you so sincerely, his fingers so warm and soft on your skin and you forget to even breath for a moment as you look up at him through wide eyes. He looks so pretty in the crappy lighting surrounding you, and yet this is probably better than any fantasy you could’ve imagined. But you can’t find the words to respond to him, stunned into silence by his physical touch and so you simply nod.

“Great. Drive carefully. Let me know that you got home safe, okay?” Hoseok gives you a gentle smile before leaning forward.

And then he’s pressing the tiniest, butterfly touch soft kiss to your cheek. The cold of his lip ring startles you out of your reverie, causing you to jolt ever so slightly and the movement causes you to pull away from his lips. But you don’t say anything, physically incapable as your eyes are as wide as dinner plates and you get the sense that Hoseok is seriously trying not to laugh so as not to embarass you.

You don’t even realise you’ve gotten into your car, buckle your seat belt and set off until you suddenly realise that you’re sat at a red light five minutes. The ghost of his kiss on your cheek is still there, throbbing gently and you touch your cheek in awe.

And then you squeal loudly like a little girl, fists clenching as you wriggle your body in sheer, unadulterated joy and excitement.

965 notes · View notes

jacaranda-bloom · 4 years ago

Photo

Monthly fic rec showcasing some of the fics I’ve read this month. Once again, there are quite a few fics, which is a testament to how lucky we truly are to have such an amazing group of talented writers in this fandom.

In this months instalment there are fics from @yvesaintlourent @soldouthaz @liltinylouis @i-graefin @allwaswell16 @cocoalou @risthebrave @kingsofeverything @jaerie @sadaveniren and @lululawrence.

Thank you to all the writers for sharing their wonderful talent with us. Please don’t forget to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoy their work and also reblog their Tumblr posts where available. 💜

💜 A Trail of Honey Through It All by faeriestyles

@yvesaintlourent Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Explicit | 27k

# Trailer Park Harry, Mechanic Harry, Rich Louis, Fashion Student Louis, Smut.

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

💜 You Know What They Say by soldouthaz

@soldouthaz Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Explicit | 10k

# PWP, Intern Harry, Secretary Louis, Smut.

(You know what they say) ...nice guys always finish last.

💜 Lock Me Up With Your Love by clicheanna

@liltinylouis Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Explicit | 30k

# Famous Harry, (kind of) Famous Louis, Musician Harry, Ex-Footballer Louis, Coming Out, Karaoke, Baked Goods.

Louis had a messed-up knee, ruined career, and labradoodle to take care of. Harry had a normal knee, perfect career, and concern for his recluse neighbour. Harry's baking skills were enough to bring them together.

💜 You Kill My Mind by Graefin

@i-graefin Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Explicit | 13k

# D/S Relationship, Dom/Daddy/Top Harry, Sub/Baby/Bottom Louis, Porn With Feelings, Bondage. (Read full tags and author’s note.)

Harry has always been ashamed to reveal his kinks to friends and partners alike. One day he meets a man who seems perfectly designed for him and they embark on a wonderful, sex-filled exploration journey.

💜 Waiting by allwaswell16

@allwaswell16 Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Explicit | 8k

# ABO, Omega Louis, Alpha Harry, Pining, Sexual Tension, Soulmates, Nesting, Heat, Idiots In Love, Smut.

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

💜 The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face by sweetrevenge

@cocoalou Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Explicit | 5k

# Strangers to Lovers, Meet-Cute, Pining, Fluff, There is a twist, Smut.

“Hi, is this seat taken?” The stranger asks and Harry swears he short circuits for a moment. He’s been staring at him from across the bar all night and he still doesn’t feel prepared to see him this close up. He gazes at the stranger for what probably is an inappropriately long amount of time, eyes catching on things he hadn't noticed when he was sitting so far away. He opens his mouth to say “No, please sit” but then... “Did you know that center bit of citrus fruit is called a juice sac?” Harry is a little bit enamoured with the gorgeous stranger sitting across from him at the bar.

💜 Too Nervous To Be Lovers by WritewhatIwant

Harry/Louis | Mature | 6k

# Roommates, Quarantine, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Snuggling, Smut. (Read full tags and author’s note.)

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

💜 At Your Fingertips by falsegoodnight

@risthebrave Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Explicit | 27k

# Strangers to Lovers, Bake Harry, Calm Employee Harry, Teacher Louis, Insecure Louis, D/S Undertones, Voice Kink, Phone Sex, Smut. (Read full tags and author’s note.)

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three… Two… One.

Play.

OR the one where Louis really should have seen it coming.

💜 If I Had No Love To Give (I Wouldn’t Give It To You) by kingsofeverything

@kingsofeverything Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Explicit | 30k

# Exes to Lovers, Chef Louis, Chef Harry, Older Louis/Harry, 35/33, Smut. (Read full tags and author’s note.)

Small town restaurateur Louis Tomlinson needs someone competent to work in his kitchen.

Chef Harry Styles needs a job.

💜 The Prince and The Thief by jaerie

@jaerie Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Explicit | 20k

# ABO, Omega Harry, Alpha Louis, Prince Harry, Thief Louis, Rapunzel Elements, Innocent Harry, Strangers to Lovers, Knotting, Bonding, Kidnapping, Smut. (Read full tags.)

Harry is an omega prince locked in a tower and Louis is the thief sent to kidnap him. Nothing turns out as planned.

💜 Tastes Like Strawberries by SadaVeniren

@sadaveniren Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Explicit | 5k

# ABO, Alpha Harry, Omega Louis, College, Nesting, First Time, Smut.

I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out.

💜 Wrinkles by lululawrence

@lululawrence Tumblr Fic Post

Harry/Louis | Not Rated | 4k

# Soulmates, Fluff and Crack, Age Difference, Plot Twists, No Smut.

Louis looked at the elderly couple sitting at the table across from where he and Harry were currently sat. They looked so happy, and he admired the wrinkles that appeared beside their eyes and mouths. The signs of their time passed on this earth, for all to see. Signs he would never see on himself.

#July 28 2020 #28th appreciation #fic rec #ficrectag

61 notes · View notes

dawninlatin · 4 years ago

Text

Haste

A Feysand Modern AU One Shot

Words: 4433

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Summary: Feyre comes back home after quitting college and breaking up with her boyfriend. During a night out, she starts seeing her friend Rhys in a new light. (Warning: There is some smut by the end)

The title comes from the song “Haste” by RY X, and if you wanna vibe, I suggest you go listen to it:)

A/N: Sorry for how long this note is, guess I had a lot to say, lol. This is actually the first fic I ever wrote, but I wanted to repost it, because I had only posted the AO3 link before, and wasn’t happy with that format. I would like to take this opportunity to thank all my amazing followers and readers!<3

When reading through this fic, there were so many things I wanted to change, (like, why did I think it was a good idea to have every other word written in italics?? And I’m so sorry for the cheesy dialogue and suuuuper long paragraphs...), but I decided to keep it as it was, because it shows how far I’ve come from that day in February where I sat up half the night writing, thinking that no one would ever read this, because my English wasn’t good enough, and my writing wasn’t good enough.

Yet I still posted it, and the response I got was more than I ever expected! This, along with all the other response I’ve gotten on all my other fics, has helped me so much with my writing, but more importantly, has helped me become the person I am today. So thank you so much, to everyone who takes the time to read, to everyone who likes, and reblogs, and leaves comments, and keep encouraging me! Thank you to all you wonderful people I have gotten to know on this app, tumblr has become a second home for me! From the bottom of my heart, I love y’all!<3<3<3

This was not how Feyre had pictured her night. Had she been the one to decide, it would consist of greasy pizza, a bottle of tequila and some crappy rom-com. Feyre had gotten as far as scrolling through Netflix in search for one, when her best friend Mor walked in the door of the apartment and declared that Feyre better get her ass of that couch, take a fucking shower and put on some decent clothing, because they were going out.

Feyre hadn’t felt like she was in the right position to protest; it was Mor’s couch she’d been occupying for the past week after all. Had it been a week already? she wondered. A week since Feyre had finally broken up with her asshole boyfriend Tamlin and then jumped on a bus to California, because the only person in the world she wanted to be with then was Mor. She had felt the need to share this victory with the only person that could always make her feel better. Of course, the high had ended as soon as she stood on Mor’s doorstep, where she had taken one look at her best friend and turned into a sobbing mess. That was about how she had spent the following week as well. She didn’t want to cry over the bastard, but he had been part of her life for the past two years, and she had loved him. Once.

So instead of spending the night on Mor's couch, wallowing in self pity, Feyre now found herself standing in the middle of a dance club crowded with drunk, sweaty people, playing way too loud music - the blinking lights making her dizzy. She had borrowed one of Mor’s dresses - and though this was considered modest in Mor’s eyes - she found herself constantly pulling at the black fabric, not comfortable with how much thigh it showed off.

Feyre scanned the room, trying to find her friend, and as she was about to declare the task impossible, she eyed a red dress and a head of blond curls. Mor was elbowing her way through the crowd, drinks in hand, accompanied by two men Feyre recognized. The tall, muscular one with shoulder-length, dark hair and a cocky smirk was Cassian, and the slightly shorter one with a shy smile was Azriel.

As they approached her, Cassian went in for a one-armed hug. «It’s good to see you Feyre!» He grinned at her, and she found herself grinning back despite her unhappy mood earlier. She really had missed these people.

«Hi Feyre, you look well!» Feyre looked up to see Azriel smiling at her, accompanied by an awkward wave. He was more of the quiet, observing type of guy, but that was exactly what Feyre liked so much about him. He was quiet, yes, but the silence was never uncomfortable.

«You as well, Azriel.» She smiled back at him, then turned towards Mor, who handed her a drink.

«Don’t look so shy Feyre. You look amazing tonight!» Mor winked at her, then gestured to the rest of the club. «You should have seen all the guys eyeing you when we walked in. Actually…if you hadn’t been my best friend, and straight-» she made a disappointed face at that, which made their whole group laugh, including Feyre, «-I totally would have slept with you.» Feyre laughed even more at that, but Mor was right. She felt good tonight. Sexy, even. She felt something she hadn’t felt in a long way. She was excited for what the night - the future - would bring.

«I might not wanna sleep with you, but I think that brunette at the bar wants to.» Feyre nodded her head towards the young woman ogling her friend.

«Hell yes!» Mor exclaimed. She put her arms around Feyre and Azriel’s shoulders. «Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna get laid!»

«Cheers to that!» Cassian laughed, lifting his drink. As Feyre sipped hers, she felt light, almost giddy, with excitement and joy. At the same moment, she noticed someone was missing from their small gathering. Rhys.

She couldn’t fathom how she hadn’t noticed before. Mor’s annoying cousin was difficult to ignore whenever he was present. The prick always teased, always came with innuendos, or witty remarks. He had the biggest ego Feyre had ever encountered. Still, Feyre found herself to be missing Rhysand’s snarky comments and their never-ending banter. Before she had time to stop herself, she spoke the sentence: «Hey guys, where’s Rhys?»

Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at her, but she chose to ignore him. «He’s coming later. Had to work overtime» Mor answered. Feyre nodded, before quickly switching the subject over to their plans for the rest of the summer.

As soon as they had some alcohol in their blood, Feyre and her small group of friends moved on to the dance floor. Feyre was jumping around, singing along to whatever song they were blasting, joking and laughing with Mor and Cassian, teasing Azriel for not wanting to join them. They looked like idiots, but they were happy idiots. She could feel the heavy bass in her whole body, along with her beating heart. She was so, so happy . Happier than all of last year combined. Hell, she hadn’t been this happy since high school, when she, Mor, Cassian, Azriel, even Rhys, had been together almost every day. Always laughing, joking. But that had been before Tamlin, and before she had been stupid enough to move halfway across the country for college.

Feyre scolded herself for thinking about Tamlin again. The point of tonight was to forget him. To have fun. And she was having fun, and she was happy. So happy that at any moment she could grow wings and disappear into the night. She had no worries. No worries of the home she had left behind, or college, or her ex-boyfriend, or what tomorrow would bring. She was here, now, and she felt fucking amazing.

Feyre heard Cassian greet someone, and turned just in time to meet a pair of shockingly blue eyes. Rhys. Her breath caught, her heart thundering in her chest, and she found herself not being able to look away. He held her gaze, refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Feyre didn’t know if it was the lights, the music, the alcohol, the warm summer night, still young and full of possibilities, or the feeling of finally being free, but it was as if she was seeing him for the first time.

Had he always been this handsome? she asked herself, taking in his lean, muscular form, his tight-fitting jeans, the white shirt opened just enough to show off the tattoos swirling across his chest. She stared at his sharp jawline, his soft lips, his eyes, so blue they were practically glowing, his dark, messy hair. Oh, how she wanted to run her fingers through his hair.

A cough from Mor made Feyre tear her eyes away at last. I must be drunker than I thought , she mused. This was Rhys she was thinking about. The man who annoyed her to no end. The man who was known for his many hook-ups and one night stands and flirts and just- argh.

«How nice of you to finally show up,» Cassian said as he threw an arm around Rhys’ shoulder and handed him a drink. Rhys made a comment that had Cassian roaring with laughter, but Feyre didn’t hear what it was, because Rhys was looking at her with such an intensity that it made her insides tingle. Stop it, she thought. You had a boyfriend just a week ago.

«Hey Feyre. It’s good to see you again.» Rhys smiled at her, but it wasn’t his usual cocky smirk. It almost looked a little sad. Feyre suddenly found the floor very interesting, not being able to keep herself from blushing or biting her lip. She could feel his eyes on her. Burning. Then Mor shouted «Who wants shots?», and the moment was over.

The night went on. They drank, they danced, they talked about college and hook-ups and high school. Feyre almost wanted to cry at the feeling of how familiar it all was. She had been afraid that her moving to Boston would change everything - and it had, for a little while - but she was back now, and everything was normal. Except for Rhys, maybe. Something had definitely changed between the two of them.

Gone was the teasing and never-ending banter. In its place was something brand new. They hadn’t said anything to one another except for pleasantries for the entirety of the evening, but Feyre caught him staring at her constantly, with this sad, longing look in his eyes. And to be honest, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off of him either.

Right now, they were all sitting at the bar, watching Cassian stick his tongue down the throat of some random blonde on the dance floor. Mor suddenly stood up, announcing she was gonna go try her luck with the woman she had been flirting with all night.

«Come on, Azriel. You’re gonna be my wingman.» His protest died on his lips as More pulled him after her.

All there was left, was Feyre and Rhys. Not able to meet each others eyes.

But Feyre was feeling brave this night. It might have been the alcohol, or the still-lingering high of having broken up with the asshole that had made her life miserable for the past year. She muttered a quiet «fuck it», downed her drink, stood up, and looked her friend straight in the eyes. «Do you wanna dance?»

Rhys’s face was lit up by a bright smile. «I thought you’d never ask, Feyre darling.» Her insides warmed at the familiar nickname, and she found herself smiling just as brightly. Rhys took her hand, leading her to the dance floor, where some old EDM shit was playing.

Feyre didn’t care about the bad music, or the bright lights, or the sweat coating her body. She was here with Rhys. His body was so close now, and she could smell his all-familiar scent of citrus and sea.

She lost track of how long they danced. None of them were any good at it, but they were laughing and having fun. Feyre felt 17 again, jumping around, sweaty and drunk, but happy. «God, I missed this!» she exclaimed, grinning at Rhys, just as the fast rhythms and heavy bass switched over to a slow ballad.

Hesitantly, Feyre glanced at Rhys, suddenly feeling shy and unsure. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. She understood what he meant immediately, and nodded, biting her lip. Rhys stepped closer, and put his arms around her waist. She placed hers around his neck, swaying along with the music.

She looked at the man in front of her. Really looked at him this time. How had she not noticed before, how strikingly beautiful he was? His sharp angles, kissable lips, silky hair, the blue eyes she could get lost in if she stared for too long. Said eyes were taking in her just as intensely at the moment.

«You are so beautiful tonight, Feyre.» His voice was hoarse, laced with restraint. Feyre felt a longing, deep within herself. She wanted to tell him he was beautiful too, wanted to kiss him, wanted to cry, wanted to just leave, wanted to stay in his arms forever. She wanted to be his. She did neither, couldn’t find the courage to do so.

Instead, she stepped closer, and pressed her forehead against his, feeling his strained breath against her lips. Everything around them disappeared. The world narrowing down to the two of them, together, forehead against forehead, in the midst of a warm night in June.

Then the song ended, and the moment was over. Feyre stepped back, but she continued to hold his gaze. Rhys looked towards the exit. «Come, I wanna show you something.» He grabbed her hand, and then he was leading her through the crowd. They walked past Mor, who muttered a «fucking finally!» that made them both chuckle.

Outside, they were surrounded by warm, summer air, a chill breeze running over their exposed skin. Rhys looked at Feyre with mischief in his eyes. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

«What exactly was it that you wanted to show me?» she asked, not being able to hide her curiosity.

«You’ll see, just trust me.» Rhys looked giddy with excitement. He was bouncing on his feet now. «Follow me, we don’t wanna miss it.» Then he started walking. Fast.

«Miss what?» Feyre shouted after him, but he didn’t answer. Rhys just kept on walking, and she struggled to keep up with him. «I have shorter legs than you, remember? And I’m currently in heals, which puts me at an unfair disadvantage.» He stopped a few steps ahead, an amused look on his face.

«We have to wait a few minutes now,» he announced, all serious. Feyre looked around where they were standing, a few blocks away from the club. The whole city was sleeping. The sight of the quiet, empty streets bewitching.

Then a bright, yellow bus stopped in front of them. Also empty. She followed Rhys onto it, confusion growing more and more. «The bus? Where exactly are we going?»

The puzzled look on Feyre's face made him chuckle. «I swear, the mystery will be worth it once we get there. Now, we could have walked, but then we would miss it.» He must have seen the question forming on her lips, because he raised a finger. «And no, I still won’t tell you what it is.»

She rolled her eyes and muttered a quiet «prick». The nickname made him laugh, and she laughed with him, because Feyre hadn’t called him that since high school. It had been way too long since they’d been together like this. Still, under all the joking and laughing, there was an unfamiliar tension that hadn’t been there before.

After only five minutes, Rhys announced that they had reached their destination. He stepped out onto the street, and led Feyre towards a beach. The sight in front of her was breathtaking. The dark waves crashing against the sand, the sky - the nearing dawn making it a deep pink - birds flying over their heads, and Rhys, who had taken off his shoes and started walking towards the ocean. Feyre followed him, slipping out of her heels. The moment she felt the familiar California sand under her toes again, she laughed with joy. A rich and warm sound she hadn’t made in forever.

Rhys, who was standing in the water now, looked up at her, the same bright smile on his face. He waved at her to hurry up, and she walked the final steps to him. The sea was warm, and the salty smell of it was amazing. It was home. She looked towards the horizon, where the sun barely had begun to rise. Then she looked up at Rhys again.

«The sunrise. That’s what you wanted to show me.» Rhys only nodded, before looking ahead of them. Feyre took in the sight again, and she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She wanted, no, she needed to paint.

Her thoughts were disturbed by Rhys, who was now sitting in the sand, jeans cuffed up to his knees. «Come sit with me, Feyre.» He patted the spot next to him.

Feyre stepped back and sat down, feeling the waves crash against her legs. She looked to Rhys, and said the only thing that could come to her mind with a playful smirk on her lips. «How did your dad take it when he found out his only son was gonna major in English, and not business?»

Rhys grimaced. «He was pissed at first, even threatened to write me out of his will, but he came around - eventually.» They chuckled at that, both knowing how angry Rhys’ father could get, but also how he always gave in when it came to his children. «How about you? How’s all the art stuff going?» Rhys asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

«Urgh,» Feyre cringed, «I dropped out in March, haven’t touched a paint brush since.» She should have been sad or ashamed when admitting that, but she felt good, knowing she had made the right choice. She had been miserable in Boston.

Rhys looked at her, concern lining his face. «That bad, huh?»

«What can I say? Boston sucked, and I would much rather be here, with you guys.» She grinned at him, and he grinned back.

«So you’re back for good now?» Feyre only nodded, turning back towards the rising sun.

The sight in front of her was hypnotizing. «I didn’t realize how much I’ve really missed home.» The words were out before she managed to think. Rhys only hummed quietly beside her. Seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Feyre turned towards him. His eyes were closed, a small smile on his lips. «What’s on your mind?» she wondered out loud.

Rhys opened his eyes then, and looked at her. «A thought for thought?» he suggested. She smiled at the reminder of the little game they used to play when they were younger. «I can begin,» he continued.

He looked towards the horizon again, taking a deep breath. «I’m thinking that when I walked into the club tonight, I was so happy to see you, because you were so happy. You were dancing and laughing and I thought that finally we had gotten our Feyre back. After you left for Boston, and after you met him, it was as if you disappeared.» Feyre tried to swallow the lump in her throat. He sounded wounded, almost. Did he really care about her that much?

«You visited, of course, but it was like a stranger had replaced you. You were a shell of who you once used to be. You stopped laughing, stopped making inappropriate jokes, and I missed you. God, I missed you so much.» Feyre felt like she might cry at his words, but she didn’t. All she did was stare ahead, and take his hand. She squeezed it, encouraging him to continue. He squeezed back.

«As I said, when I saw you tonight, I was sure we had gotten the old Feyre back. Mor told me what had happened in Boston - why you were back - and I was sure that everything would return to normal between us.» He took a break, clearly anxious of saying what was next.

«But everything isn’t back to normal. Something has changed. I can feel it, and I think you can too.» He looked at her now, that intense longing once again in his eyes. She met his gaze, and suddenly felt brave enough to say:

«I can feel the change too, yes, but I think it’s a good change.» Then she leaned in, and kissed him.

Rhys went completely still at first, and Feyre was afraid that she had misunderstood their conversation. Then he seemed to realize what was happening. He put one arm around her waist, the other tangling in her hair, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss.

His lips tasted salty, she thought, but sweet at the same time. She could get drunk on him alone. Feyre was breathless, and dizzy, but she decided this was the best feeling in the world.

She was kissing Rhys.

He pressed his tongue against her lips, and she opened up for him, moaning at the sensation. She put her hands in his hair, slightly pulling at it. The silky strands feeling soft in her fingers.

Kissing Rhys was everything, but at the same time it was not enough. She needed more. Needed to be closer, needed to feel more of him. She pulled away slightly, breathless, heart thundering, blood rushing in her ears. Rhys looked at her, just as breathless, a hungry gleam in his eyes. «How far is it to your place?» He only smirked in answer.

Rhys stood up, picking Feyre up with him. She laughed as he almost dropped her, then she wrapped her legs around his waist. He didn’t walk far before they reached a small house. Rhys put her down, pulled a pair of keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the door.

Feyre marveled at the place as they stepped inside. It was small, but it was stunning. Large glass windows facing the ocean, green plants covering every available surface, and several over-filled bookshelves. She turned to look at Rhys, who had stopped in the doorway, staring at her taking in his place, surprise clearly written on her face. She took a step towards him. Then another. And another, until their mouths crashed together again.

Rhys moved his lips over her jaw, down her throat, her neck. Feyre moaned, struggling to get his shirt off fast enough, both minds clouded with lust and the haste to be as close together as possible. Skin to skin.

She finally managed to open the last button, pulling off the fabric. Feyre took in his muscled, tan chest and the many tattoos covering it. She leaned forward, and pressed her lips to the spot right above his heart. She could feel it hammering beneath his skin. She moved upwards, ghosting them over his collarbone, his neck, his throat, his jawline, then finally his lip.

Rhys grabbed her face, kissing her with such an intensity it made her dizzy. She was about to start fumbling with his belt when Rhys pulled away. «Are you sure you want this?» he asked, all out of breath, voice cracking, and Feyre would have thought his consideration and worry to be cute, had she not been so desperate to press her naked body against his. So she only nodded, and stepped back to pull her dress over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

That seemed to be the end of Rhys' restraint. He took a step towards her, grabbed her under her thighs, and hoisted her up so she was sitting with her legs around his waist. Feyre moaned at the feeling of him pressing against her, hard and ready, and she felt a warm throbbing between her own legs.

Feyre let out a breathy «why the hell do you still have pants on?» that made Rhys chuckle. She felt the sound moving through his whole body. He walked across the room, laid her down on the bed and quickly got rid of his pants. Feyre almost drooled at the sight of his large cock. She reached out a hand and stroked him through the thin fabric of his boxers. Rhys groaned at the feeling, and leaned over her, placing his mouth on one of her nipples.

It felt exquisite. Rhys, his wandering hands, her body tingling with sensation, his hot mouth on her skin. She needed more, more, more. Feyre pulled his cock free, and he kicked of his underwear. One of his hands reached the band of her own panties, a finger dipping into her core, then slowly circling her clit.

It was too much and not enough and she needed more. Rhys slid off her underwear, and all of a sudden there was nothing between them. «Do you have a condom?» Feyre didn’t know how she managed to form words at this point, but he reached behind her and grabbed one. Feyre took it and rolled it on him, while his mouth explored every inch of her breasts, and his hand slowly stroked the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Feyre needed him inside her, now. She lined his cock up with her entrance, then she looked him in the eyes. He took her hint, slowly, oh so slowly, pushing himself in, not breaking eye contact.

Feyre moaned at the feeling of him filling her, widening her. He was thick and warm and it felt amazing. She pulled his mouth to hers, and he pressed his tongue inside her, filling her in two places. He pulled out slightly, then pushed in to the hilt this time. Rhys groaned at the sensation, his hand still drawing circles over her clit.

It felt so good, she was seeing stars. The wave inside her rising and rising with no end as Rhys picked up his pace, slamming to the hilt and hitting that magic spot every. damn. time.

Words like more or faster or deeper filled the warm air around them. Rhys buried his head between her shoulder and neck, moaning her name. Feyre felt her pussy clench around him, nearing that sweet, sweet edge. «Rhys, I need to…»

He seemed to understand what she meant, because he went even faster, fingers pressing down against her clit, and fuck it felt so good! His eyes met her eyes, his forehead pressed against her forehead, and she felt his words as a breath against her lips. «Come, Feyre.»

Those words pushed her over the edge immediately, wave crashing over her like nothing ever had before. It lasted a lifetime. That sweet, unending pleasure. She clenched around him again and again, until he started losing control, losing rhythm, and at last he came with her, groaning.

When it was over, the world around them went quiet. The sun was shining through the curtains, a new day beginning, Rhys collapsed on top of Feyre, stroking her disheveled hair away from her face. «That was…» she didn’t know how to end that sentence. She wanted to stay here with him forever. Just the two of them. Skin to skin.

Rhys looked at her, amusement coloring his face. «Intense?» he suggested. Feyre chuckled, tapping her fingers against his chest. He pulled out, turned on his back, taking her with him, so that she lay on his chest, ear placed right over his heart.

«I was gonna go with best sex of my life, but intense works too I guess.» He laughed at that. A warm, loud laughter that she could feel in her whole body. He kissed the top of her head, and pulled a blanked over them.

As Feyre lay there, feeling Rhys draw slow circles on her back, listening to the waves, letting the steady beat of his heart and the sound of his even breaths lull her to sleep, she knew that nothing would ever be the same after this night. She felt almost electric with excitement over what the rest of the summer would bring. One thing she was sure of, Rhys would be part of it.

#feysand #feyre x rhysand #rhysand x feyre #feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys x feyre #feyre x rhys #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sarah j maas #acotar fanfic #feysand fanfiction #dawninlatin fanfiction

49 notes · View notes

discopiratetanis · 5 years ago

Text

In a Earth where magic exists, an immortal lineage of noble wardens is responsible for protecting magical creatures from humans.

Jaskier, the young grandson of Queen Calanthe, Poland's ancestral guardian, arrives at the small town of Blaviken, a refuge for magical beings who do not wish to have contact with humans, to complete his training as a warden.

There, in that haven of peace and safety, he'll meet strange but good people who will help him to learn and understand the true importance of his heritage and what really means to be a warden.

magical town!Geraskier AU. Sets in a not historically accurate Poland during the eighties, specifically 1984. So there will be a little bit of socialism (but decent socialism) here and a few references to WWII in a good way.

This is solely for my pure personal pleasure, so it will have an erratic update dates, sorry. But I hope you like it! Likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciate and encourage me to continue, thank you! ❤

Rating: M (for the moment)

Words: 6888

Chapter: 1/of many

Characters who show up in this chapter: Jaskier (of course, is his POV), the pack of wolves, Filavandrel as a humbled lumberjack, Yennefer, Renfri and Regis. Honorable mentions to Queen Calanthe, the Seven Dwarfs, a sleepy greyhound and a happy old woman on her rocking chair.

N/A: There will be Valdo Marx X Jaskier during the course of the story, but obviously Geraskier is the endgame pair!

You can also read the chapter on AO3!

If you want to support me I have a ko-fi!

It was raining when Jaskier got off the bus, a silent drizzle, a faint curtain of mist that you couldn't see if you didn't pay attention. But the air was wet.

Very wet.

Surprise, Jaskier, water wets! the boy thought, moving away from the road so that the bus would not soak him when it marched over the puddles in the ditch. He stepped on the mud beyond the asphalt. The bus stop was a simple wooden post, marked with a blue metal rectangle on which the number fifty-eight had been painted white. The road had two narrow lanes, one southbound, the other northbound. And everything else around was wilderness. Green, silent, lonely, deep woods. Jaskier grunted, hung better his duffel bag over his shoulder, and pulled a small piece of paper and a compass out of the front pocket of it.

"Alright," he said aloud, before reading what it had written on the paper, already getting wet because of the rain.

From the sixth stop of bus number fifty-eight, walk west until you find a big gray oak tree. Once you have arrived, pass underneath and continue straight ahead, Blaviken will appear before you.

If you encounter the wolves don't be afraid, they'll smell your magic and probably leave you alone.

The directions were simple but not much revealing. He knew it was for safety but. Jaskier clicked his tongue, crumpled the note into a ball, put it back in the pocket and opened the compass. Tiny dips blurred the glass, but the needle pointing north indicated the direction the bus had gone, so he looked on both sides of the road, crossed to the other side, and walked straight ahead, into the trees. Soon his silhouette was lost in the mist as if he had never been there.

The leaves crunched under his feet with an eerie noise at every step he took. The rain seemed to drown out the sounds of the woods, but Jaskier could still hear the peep of the boldest and bravest birds not scared by a little water. The wind was weak but sharp against the boy’s wet skin, who tried in vain to dry his cheeks and forehead every few moments with his also wet sleeve. It had been stupid not to grab an umbrella, despite his grandma's advice before he had parted his way, but it had been hellishly sunny in Warsaw for being September so he had felt rebellious and had dressed up with cotton trousers and a linen shirt with a lightweight wool jacket. Now he was starting to think that he was an idiot. The weather could be part of Blaviken's protection, yes. No traveler would want to get lost in those woodlands, in the middle of nowhere near mountains full of wolves and bears. But he also could be just a silly boy who had not taken an umbrella because he thought it would be sunny all over the country at the same time. At least he had his mountain boots.

It didn't take long for Jaskier to reach the tree that said the note, a huge gray oak in the middle of the forest. The boy stopped in front of it, noticing immediately that the rain was no longer drenching him. He checked the compass one last time before closing it and putting it in the bag. Then he took a deep breath. Yes, the tree was enormous. His trunk was so broad that Jaskier would need the help of ten more people to encircle it with his arms completely. It was covered with moss and tiny mushrooms everywhere and its branches stretched in all directions high in the sky, coating all the smaller trees within meters with their leafage. And then there was the hollow, the passage. It looked like an enchanted path, like those described in fairy tales.

Jaskier stepped into the entrance and looked up, tightening the strap of his bag. The way under the oak was not very long so he could see the other side of the tunnel perfectly. He walked slowly through that natural corridor of wet bark and lichen, fascinated, still looking up and around, amazed with all the magical static in the atmosphere. When he reached the end of the tunnel and came out into the open air again, the sun was shining and a cool, pleasant breeze shook his hair, playfully, and dried his clothes. A huge knee-high grassy clearing, sprinkled with yellow and white flowers, opened up before him. He reached the clearing with renewed energy, making his way through the grass and flowers under the sun, suddenly feeling that he was breathing much better, that his lungs were filling up with clear, clean air. There the birds sang louder, stronger, more beautifully.

Jaskier smiled.

He was in the middle of the meadow when he heard the rustling of a branch, the brushing of bushes and leaves on his back. Jaskier turned around, feeling his heart racing.

His throat went dry.

There, by the entrance to the oak tree, stood an enormous grey wolf. The animal was easily two heads taller than Jaskier himself, who was about five feet and nine inches tall. Its fur was streaked with darker flecks, and their dark green eyes glared the boy with interest. Jaskier didn't make any move and repressed a whimper, as if he feared the animal would jump on him with the slightest hint of activity. Then a new crackle made him look, this time to his left, and see another wolf, only one head taller than Jaskier. This one had murky brown fur and its right ear torn and ripped, probably by another wolf or a bear. It was wagging its tail quickly, staring at the boy. Jaskier blinked, feeling an awful and cold sense running up his back. A third wolf equally tall as the second one, with light hazel fur, appeared near the dark brown one. Both had intense green eyes.

Then, Jaskier remembered the note.

And it hit him.

It was weird. Even having been born and raised in the court of one of the great queens of the wardens, among magic and elements of all kinds, even though he had to know that these wolves were not merely wolves, Jaskier felt that he was an intruder.

The third wolf growled, low.

Jaskier swallowed.

“Uh, okay, alright,” he said, not sure if for himself or for the wolfs. “Uh, I… !” he tightened the strap of his backpack again as if that could calm him. “My name is–" he hesitated only for a second. "Jaskier! I came to Blaviken to train as a warden, Queen Calanthe told me to come here!” he paused again, looking at all the wolfs successively as he stood still, anxious, knowing that probably the animals were smelling his nervousness. He licked his lips, feeling his throat cracked and tight and, of course, still dry. “I’m… I’m sorry if I have bothered you stepping into your territory?!

The animals did not react to his words, except for the arrival of a fourth wolf, which emerged slowly among the bushes and foliage next to the big one and the oak tree. Its fur was white as freshly fallen snow, the cleanest, purest, most beautiful white that Jaskier had ever seen. It was slightly bigger than the smaller wolves, but not as large as the one in front of the tunnel. Its eyes were golden and gleamed bright and luminous, like the sun, like an endless field of mature wheat. Jaskier held his breath, looking directly at the white wolf, feeling dazzled and astounded.

It was as if time had stopped.

But then the grey wolf let out a hoarse bark, making Jaskier feel a chill, and the other three left immediately, disappearing just as they had appeared: from nowhere and in silence.

Jaskier exhaled all the air he was holding back, without taking his eyes off the animal. The wolf wagged his tail once, turned around and went into the trees next to the oak. The sound of paws scratching the ground, rustling leaves and twigs echoed for two seconds in the sudden silence of the clearing. Then that silence was broken by the joyful chirping of the birds and the breath of the wind.

Jaskier blinked, confused, still a little scared. He turned around as well, facing west, and ran. He did not look back even once.

* * * *

Blaviken was a little town located next to a lake nestled in a small valley between two arms of the mountain range. Jaskier discovered that because he not only had to go through the forest that hid it from the west, but he also had to go up the slope of the mountain to the entrance of the valley, where the river that drained the lake emerged from the ground a ran down the woods and the steep hills. By the time the boy reached the entrance of the canyon, the sun had already passed its zenith and was approaching the first hour of the afternoon. He stopped to rest near the road, a path full of grass that must have been carved by the wild animals.

Or the wolves.

Jaskier took a canteen out of his bag and took a sip of water. From there he could see the lake, so long that he almost couldn't discern its birth at the west; the mountains still with snow on their peaks, and the town itself. Jaskier had seen Blaviken's engravings and photographs. It was a picturesque, bucolic village, which did not seem to have changed much in centuries. It had the look of a medieval town, with a main street that was connecting the goat path and the entrance of the valley with the first houses, and was leading through the village to a central square where there was a fountain with a statue. Its houses, made of wood and stone, had two floors with smoking chimneys, orchards surrounded by small wooden fences, small sheds, barns... The more distant shacks were surrounded by larger fields of crops and fruit trees. A few horses and cows were grazing in the pastures that surrounded the village.

Jaskier took another sip of water and inhaled deeply. The air smelled and felt pure, fresh and lighter, healthier, than in Warsaw. In the distance, he could hear the squealing of the pigs and the rumor and echo of Blaviken's life. It seemed very peaceful... Jaskier bit his lips, put the canteen in the bag and stood up to continue the march. He knew that even though the village seemed to be close because of the slopes, the nooks and crannies, in reality it could be at least another hour's walk downhill.

He wasn't wrong, it took him an hour and a half to get to Blaviken.

There weren't many people at the entrance to the town. The first houses looked more like huts and storage sheds than real houses. A man with long blond hair tied in a ponytail and dressed with thick work pants and flannel shirt, was cutting wood near the main street road, next to one of the shacks. A pile of perfectly cut logs was piled against the wall of the shed, along with other smaller pieces made into more manageable firewood. A few hens with their chicks were pecking at the ground, paying no attention to any passers-by. A black dog, a greyhound, with a collar made of a leather band was lying, merrily asleep, not far from the log cabin. Jaskier took a deep breath and approached the man, being careful enough not to do it from behind.

"Excuse me?" he said.

The man, who had just finished splintering the log he was busy with, stopped, stood up with his axe in his hand and looked at the boy. Then Jaskier saw his pointy ears and noticed his strangely beautiful features, halfway between roughness and delicacy, and his so intense raven eyes. Jaskier blinked. The man, the elf, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, narrowing his eyes a little.

"You're the kid, aren't you?"

His voice was melodious, like thick honey sliding down a wooden spoon. Jaskier cleared his throat.

"Uh... yes, I suppose?" he frowned, confused. "Could you tell me where Renfri lives?

The elf nodded and turned a bit towards the main street.

"Go straight on to the square, the house with the red roof is hers, you can't miss it," he said.

Jaskier peeked out a little. The road, even though it was the main artery of the village, was not very wide. From there you could see the fountain with the statue, but not much more.

"Thank you, uh..."

The elf smiled warmly.

"Filavandrel,"

Jaskier looked and smiled back at him.

"Jaskier,"

Filavandrel nodded again. He was watching Jaskier a bit curious, inquisitive. Jaskier parted his lips, feeling as the elf knew something he didn't quite understand. He was about to ask if there was something wrong when Filavandrel turned around to clean the supporting trunk of the pieces he had cut off and put a new log on top. He picked up the axe and cut it cleanly in half. Jaskier made a tired sound and headed for the square.

"Thank you again,"

Behind his back, Filavandrel continued with his task and responded:

"See you around!"

Jaskier advanced step by step down the street, trying not to look around too much as if it were the first time he had set foot there. It didn't matter anyway because every person who crossed his path gave him an odd look, except for a few groups of random kids who were more interested in his current games than in a stranger. The village was tiny, Jaskier knew that one glance was enough for everyone to know that he was the new face.

The new toy

The toy

Jaskier flinched and made a grimace at the thought.

The square was wide and long as four houses together, surely buildings for more important things than storing wood or food. The central fountain was an oval structure, made of very old stone eaten away by the years. Several springs of water flowed from the pipes rooted in the pedestal of the sculpture that adorned the fountain. Jaskier stopped for a moment to admire it. It was made of bronze, already rusty with green, and depicted eight figures, five women and three men. Seven of the statues were smaller than the eighth, located in the center of the pedestal, and they held up both rifles and swords with a defensive, dignified, and heroic attitude. They wore clothes that were at least forty years old. Jaskier held his breath for a second. The eighth figure was a young woman whose impressively realistic expression denoted loneliness and sadness. She also wore old-fashioned clothing from decades ago, on which she had a hooded cloak clasped with a fancy brooch. She carried a spear and a gun in a defeated stance. Jaskier looked down and saw a plaque, made of degraded bronze too, which read:

In memory of the brave men and women

who protected Blaviken from the nazis

The boy blinked. And then his eyes started to sting. He contemplated the memorial for a long time, in silence, unaware of the people, both those who were passing by and those who were quietly at the doors of their houses chatting with their neighbors or simply resting, that were staring at him more and more curiously.

"Hello,"

A soft, gentle voice drove Jaskier from his thoughts. As he looked at, Jaskier saw a deformed hunchback girl with black, wavy hair, pale skin, and absurdly beautiful lilac-colored eyes. She was wearing a brown woolen dress and a blue apron with a pocket from which hung a bouquet of flowers and several colored rags, and carrying a large earthenware jar in her arms which she started to fill it under one of the pipes.

"Oh, uh, hello," Jaskier replied. Then the girl looked away from him to see how much she was filling the container. Jaskier contemplated her with genuine interest as if her task was the most interesting thing in the world. "So it's potable, the water, right?" he said a little awkward.

She giggled, still not looking at him, attentive to her chore.

"Yes, it's from the mountain, "

"Ah,"

"The pedestal also has a purifier,"

"Oh," Jaskier glance at the pipes. "Oh, yeah, right,"

The boy was silent then, not exactly uncomfortable, and certainly not quite sure if the girl wanted something from him or she just had greeted him because in little towns everyone greeted everyone whether they knew them or not. Jaskier wondered what kind of creature she was. It was, and it would be, very rude to ask that to someone you had just met, and Jaskier didn't have enough experience or expertise to guess the nature of a creature by sight alone yet. His grandmother could do that even with her eyes closed, only by analyzing the magical pulse and the auras around someone.

"So... can I ask your name?" Jaskier said, watching the water pouring into the jar, again as if it was terribly interesting.

He knew he only had to walk away with a 'see you later' to go and find Renfri, but he was going to live there all year round, so it was all right to have a little chat with the rest of the locals if he has the chance. And she had been kind enough to address him without pointing out that he was new around even if it was something so obvious.

"Yes, of course," she looked up, with those stunningly beautiful purple eyes that were smiling even if she wasn't. A warm feeling ran down his back and he felt much better, less nervous and more relaxed. "I’m Yennefer, but you can call me Yen if you want, is what my friends call me,”

“Oh,” Jaskier raised his eyebrows. “That’s… Are you sure? You have just met me, I'm not exactly your friend,”

"Right, but you're going to be our warden, so..."

"Well, technically I'm an apprentice–wait, how do you know?" Jasper arched his eyebrows.

"Oh, I just know," she smiled and raised the jar to the thick edge of the fountain. Then she embraced it and lifted it with some effort.

"H-Hey, do you want me to help you?" Jaskier took two steps towards her, almost extending his hands to help her hold her load.

Yennefer shook his head without being bothered by the weight at all.

"Don't worry, I can handle it myself,” she said, cheerfully and definitely not annoyed, and starting to walk away. "See you later, Jaskier"

Jaskier blinked without answering and watcher her until she disappeared around the corner from the southbound street.

What the hell has just happened?

When he looked to one of the nearby houses, he saw an old woman sitting in a rocking chair, who chose that exact moment to wave jovially at him. Jaskier blinked again and waved back, perplex. Then he shook his head and headed for the red-roofed building.

It was like every other house in the village, made of stone and wood with two floors. Its windows were half-open, with curtains of floral motifs full of patches. Jaskier looked up in case he saw anything through the windows, but the curtains were flapping with the breeze and blocking the view, so he went to the door and raised his hand to knock. He stopped at the sight of the heavy, corroded iron knocker shaped like a sun half-hidden by a moon. He touched it, lost, feeling that the shape was familiar somehow. But he didn't think much more about it and knocked three times with blows that sounded hard and cavernous.

He waited.

And waited.

And when it was clear that nobody was home, Jaskier pouted for himself and turned around.

"If you are looking for Renfri she is in the tavern right now!" The old woman on the rocking chair exclaimed without stopping its swing.

Jaskier looked at her, feeling dumb.

"Oh, oh, thanks!" he said and asked immediately after. "Errrr, sorry… where's the tavern?"

He saw the smile spreading on her wrinkly lips.

"Across the square, that building with the little cute drawing of a tankard hanging over the door!" she replied.

Jaskier nodded, trying then to appear confident, and bowed too much pompous and grandiloquent.

"Thanks, nice old lady!" he said.

"You're welcome, young man!"

Jaskier snorted, hung better his bag, and walked towards the aforementioned edifice. It was another house almost indistinguishable from the others except for that sign hanging over the door like in the soap opera stories about Robin Hood. He could hear voices coming from inside. Jaskier took a deep breath and walked in as if he were putting his hand into the mouth of a bear.

The interior of the bar was exactly like the taverns that could be seen in the few films that the polish government agreed to show in cinemas: a long wooden counter that looked old and worn but was actually very well cared for, long tables for several people, round tables for smaller groups, barrels and bottles behind the counter. The tiny modern touches that broke the illusion consisted of an old TV placed on a shelf full of glass bottles next to the most visible wall of the establishment, the beer dispensers, the radio on the shelves behind the counter, and some photographs, both in black and white and in color, of the town and the surrounding area. On the TV there was what appeared to be a match with the polish national football team, and it seemed to have the few customers engrossed with it. Jaskier took a quick glance at the screen and slowly approached the counter. Behind it was an older-looking man with short gray hair, very pale skin and dark eyes. His features were sharp, hard, as if he were rock polished by time. He was dressed soberly but elegantly, with clothes that did not quite fit in a place like that. When the man looked at him, serious and severe, Jaskier felt a huge, dense weight on his shoulders, as if someone suddenly sat on him and would not let him breathe. But that feeling immediately faded as the barman, who was drying a line of glasses, raised his eyebrows weakly and blinked.

Jaskier swallowed, thinking that those eyes looked terribly deep and old. And that they knew everything.

"You are the boy," the man said.

The clients hissed in frustration and disgust, still oblivious to Jaskier's arrival.

"Uhm...yes?" Jaskier said, feeling he was repeating himself. "I was looking for Renfri, someone told me she was here," he said, glancing around.

He didn't need to be told who Renfri was. Jaskier immediately located the woman, sitting at one of the small round tables farthest from the door and the television cabinet. She was half lying on the table, with a metal cup in her outstretched hand and her face resting on the other arm, as if she were...

"Is she... drunk?" Jaskier asked.

The man sighed, resigned.

"Luckily not, no, not yet," he replied.

"Not yet," Jaskier repeated.

The barman made a sad grimace but didn’t add anything more about it. Instead, he said:

"Sit with her, you must be tired from the journey,"

Jaskier let out a deep exhausted, and only a little dramatic, sigh.

"A little, yes, this place hasn't exactly been easy to find,"

The man smiled.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked.

Jaskier put one arm on the counter, glancing at the barrels behind it, searching.

"Do you have Tyskie?" he inquired.

Then he noticed the smell. He knew it was coming from the owner of the bar. It was a heavy, not entirely unpleasant smell, a mixture of thick, wet earth and lavender, a curiously unique perfume for a man. Jaskier swallowed. The bartender grimaced and picked up a clean tankard from under the counter. He went to the dispensers and placed it at a certain angle under one of them.

"I assume you're legal, right?" he said.

"Well, technically I'm forty-eight, if that doesn't make me legal..." Jaskier shrugged, trying to inhale not too hard.

The man pulled the lever on the dispenser, shaking his head with a snort.

"In human terms, yes, but if we calculate your real age you would be about... what, eighteen, nineteen years old? You almost didn't pass,"

"What can I say?"

The man poured the beer, a fresh pint with a crown of white foam. Jaskier grabbed the tankard with both hands and started to head for Renfri's table, from where she hadn't moved an inch. A wave of whispers and hisses indicated that a play in the match had not gone well.

"Thank you, sir,"

"No, no formalities. You're going to be spending a lot of time here, you call me Regis, "

Well, that's...

"Sure, thanks, Regis,"

Jaskier sat quietly at Renfri's table, leaving his tankard in the gap that she did not occupy with her body and arm. As soon as he touched the table surface, Renfri raised her head like a cat caught by surprise. Jaskier stared at her, taking a sip of his beer as she narrowed her eyes, slowly, and wrinkled her nose, finally rising to rest her back on the chair. She looked exactly the same as in the fountain sculpture, with slightly longer hair, a more wavy mane. But his eyes were just as sad.

Terribly sad.

The two watched each other silently for minutes, Jaskier sipping from his tankard, and Renfri holding her metal cup, making no attempt to drink from it, if there was any drink left. From the corner of his eye, Jaskier saw Regis and various of the clients who had been watching the game up until then, were very attentive to them. Jaskier licked his lips and clicked his tongue, not taking his eyes off the woman who had to train him in the ancient arts of the wardens from that day forward. He thought his grandmother had a slightly strange sense of humor, sending him to a little town like that, and to a warden with alcohol problems.

He couldn’t blame her, though, if he had the statue in mind.

But still...

“So…” he said, realizing that she wasn't going to be the one to break the ice first. He also noticed that she was looking at him in a very cautious way, scrutinizing him as if she was taking note of each and every one of his features, the color of his eyes, the shape of his face, the arch of his nose, the curve of his lips, or was estimating the number of moles he could have, or looking for the exact words to describe the color of his hair. “I’m here…”

Jaskier counted five seconds. When he was about to open his mouth again, the woman spoke and her voice sounded also tired and exhausted, though definitely sober thanks to God.

“Yeah, you are here,” she scoffed, blinked slowly and made a weak grimace. Then she drank from her cup and whipped the remained drops off her lips with the back of her hand “Let's make this easy, okay?”

“Okay?” Jaskier raised his eyebrows.

“There's not much to do in this place really, but since the queen is so interested in you finishing your training here, I'll do my best to fulfill her wish,"

Jaskier noticed the clear, perfect tone of sarcasm in her voice as if she was deeply annoyed that Calanthe had sent him there and didn't like the idea at all. He felt a bitter, awful sensation in the pit of his stomach and swallowed hard. It hurt him as if he had a stone stuck in his throat.

“Okay,” he said, lower.

She huffed.

"Today it's late and I've finished all the tasks, but tomorrow morning I'll start teaching you. I usually get up at sunrise, so I expect you to do the same,"

“Okay,”

Then she smiled leaned a little over the table, resting her arms on it.

"So... everything’s okay?"

Jaskier blinked, baffled.

"Uh… yes?"

"Has anyone said anything to you?"

"Uh... No?"

Renfri glanced at the rest of the bar. Jaskier followed her gaze. The clients turned around on their seats immediately, except for Regis, who slowly looked down with a sigh. More and more Jaskier had the feeling that something was going on or people knew something he didn't understand. And it was starting to get a little bit annoying for him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Renfri looked at him with a flat and apparently disinterested expression.

"Nothing," she replied. "As I was saying, rules. Luckily for both of us, I have two bathrooms at home, yours is upstairs. Take a bath before you go to sleep, you won't have time in the morning. We have access to hot water but don't waste it or I'll kill you, do you understand?"

"Yes,"

"Good," Renfri took another sip from her cup, pensive. Jaskier did the same, staring at her intently. "We'll have breakfast here at the bar, then we'll start with the routine duties. At noon we’ll eat here again and continue until we finish whatever needs to be done. There are days when you finish early, but others..." she grimaced.

"Yeah, sure, I understand,"

"Don't worry, kid, you'll do fine. As I said, there's not much to do really, it's a small town,"

Jaskier nodded and took the last drink, then reached into the pockets of the bag, looking for the purse. Renfri snorted.

"Don't bother, we barely use money here," she said.

"But–"

"You'll pay him with your wardenship, it works that way,"

Jaskier arched an eyebrow.

"Let me guess, everyone lets you pay by doing your job,"

For the first time since he had sat at Renfri's table, Jaskier saw the outline of a faint, small smile on her lips.

"You'll understand," she mumbled. Then she handed him her cup and waved him up. "Go on, be a good boy and get me more drink, and ask Regis to make us dinner,"

Jaskier pursed his lips, took his tankard and Renfri’s cup and went to the counter, where Regis was still drying glasses as if seconds before he hadn't been watching them.

"She wants–" Jaskier started to say.

"I know, I heard her, don't worry," Regis put down the rag and the glass in his hands, took Jaskier's cup and tankard and brought new ones. When Jaskier looked at him he saw his old, tired eyes and felt a wave, like a vibration in the air, of concern that sent a chill down his back. Regis sighed again. "You'll have to be patient with her, it's the first time–" The man hesitated for a second, as if he was looking for the right words. "It's the first time she has an apprentice,"

Jaskier blinked, suppressing the urge to look at her. A little further down the line, at the end of the counter, the spectators at the game were cheering their team on to score. Jaskier clicked his tongue.

"I see..." he whispered.

Was that it? Am I the first student she has?

"Do you like leek soup?" Regis asked then, leaving the new drinks in front of the boy.

Jaskier blinked, and thought about how little he had eaten soup in his life just because his grandmother didn't let the cooks prepare lower class meals in the palace.

"Sure," he said, nodding enthusiastically.

He took the cup and the tankard and brought them to Renfri's table, which was waiting impatiently for his return. The woman took her drink with energy and gave a sip. Jaskier sighed.

They drank in relative silence, Renfri more and more concentrated in her cup and Jaskier feeling more and more tired, both from the trip and from the alcohol. By the time Regis brought each of them a bowl of soup, both were lost in their own thoughts. The man gave them a silent glance before giving them the spoons and returning to the counter. The bar had been left empty, with the game about to end and the few remaining customers marching home for dinner.

Jaskier tasted a spoonful of soup after blowing on it a little and found a myriad of flavors so strong and delicious that he thought it was probably the best soup in the world. Not only did he notice the leek, but there was also potato, carrot, onion, he even rosemary and pepper, all perfectly mixed together. The soup wasn't quite broth, it was thick enough to melt in your mouth. After a whole trip based on cold meat sandwiches, that first hot meal in Blaviken would be forever his favorite.

Jaskier might have cried for joy if he hadn't had Renfri watching him over her own bowl with a strange expression. Jaskier swallowed the soup and looked at her.

"What?" he inquired.

Renfri instantly looked down, at his own food. She did not answer. The boy pressed his lips and stirred the soup with the spoon, watching the potato and leek lumps go around. He ate one, thinking. As he swallowed, he looked up again.

"Renfri?" he said.

"Hm?" She made no attempt to pay more attention to him.

"Can I ask you something?"

She shrugged.

"What's up?"

Jaskier licked his lips, feeling the taste of the soup. He took a deep breath.

"On my way here, after crossing the tree passage... I came across four giant wolves. They were... Are they from here, from Blaviken?"

Renfri took a quick and… a curious look at him.

"Yes, of course they're from here. You noticed they weren't normal, right?"

"Well, yes," Jaskier stirred in his seat. "So they're werewolves?"

She nodded.

"Vesemir and his pups, they help me to patrol Blaviken's territory. It's pretty huge and it would take me weeks by myself. If you saw them at the tree entrance they'll be back in two or three days,"

"Ah,"

"I'll introduce you to them when they get back, although... they probably know you better than you know them by now,"

"Oh, yeah? How?" He sounded more interested than concerned.

"The smell. There's no one in all of Blaviken with a better sense of smell. Vesemir could track you back to Warsaw if he wanted to. And in the rain. If you've seen them, they'll have smelled you enough to know your trouser size,”

Jaskier whimpered and took another spoonful. So he had made a bit of a fool of himself in that clearing. Renfri snorted.

"Don't worry, they're wolves, the most harmless and friendly creatures in town,"

"Really?"

"Really,"

"Regis doesn't look dangerous," Jaskier said, pointing his head at the bartender.

Renfri snorted again and leaned over the table a little and lower her voice.

"Regis could break you in half, though before that he'd sink his fangs into your neck and drink all your blood in one gulp,"

Jaskier opened his eyes wide and arched his eyebrows, suddenly feeling his throat dry. Of course, the smell of earth...

"I wouldn't do that, don't be absurd," Regis said from the counter. Jaskier looked at him. Although the man had the same calm expression as before, the boy noticed the irritation in his tone of voice. "Don't put such old-fashioned ideas into the kid, please,"

"But is it true?" Jaskier held his breath, turning in his seat to look at the man.

Then Renfri burst into a clean, heartfelt laugh that somehow that made Jaskier's heart skip a beat.

"What?" Regis asked.

"Could you break a person in half? Or drink their blood in one gulp?"

Regis looked at him in complete and utter disbelief, and resignation. Renfri's laughter slowly faded. He gave Renfri an annoying look for instigating such questions and then grunted.

"I could. Split someone in half I mean. Drink five liters of blood in one sitting? No, ancestors no. And I wouldn't sink my teeth into your neck either, there's too much muscle to go through. If I wanted to drink someone else's blood, I would first ask them nicely and then, if they said yes, I would drink from their wrist, or forearm,"

"What a gentleman," Renfri mocked, eating his soup.

"Oh, shut up, Renfri,"

She laughed again, much shorter and lower than before. Jaskier felt excited.

A pack of werewolves

A vampire

An elf

And whatever Yennefer was.

He had known from the beginning that this town was a refuge for magical creatures, but he had imagined goblins, elves, yes, okay, maybe some trolls, but werewolves, vampires? All he knew about them was from reading books that not even his tutors wanted him to read.

"Hey, don't look so excited and finish eating that, you'll want to go to bed early tonight," Renfri said, pointing him with her spoon.

Jaskier bit his lips, thinking fast and concentrated on eating what was left of the soup and drinking the beer. Renfri grunted approvingly and ended up with his own dinner.

By the time they left the tavern, it was already dark and there was no one left on the street. The sound of the animals in the village had turned into a silence broken only by the singing of the crickets and the sound of the families finishing their own dinners. There was little light, no lamppost. When Jaskier looked up, he could see the dark blue and purple sky dotted with millions of twinkling stars. He did not need to make an effort to discern the trail of the Milky Way over the lake.

He had never seen it before.

It was beautiful.

"Hey,"

Renfri got his attention. Jaskier swallowed, stopped gawking at the sky, and walked faster to follow in his master's footsteps. Once in the square and in front of the red-roofed house, Renfri took a rather large and quirky key out of his pocket. He opened the door with it.

Inside, the house looked like a ghost hostel.

Jaskier didn't have time to explore much, Renfri made him climb the stairs, made of crisp, dry wood, up to the second floor. There, in addition to the aforementioned second bathroom, there was a corridor with seven little rooms where, with luck, a bed would fit. In some of them there were small closets. Jaskier chose one of the rooms with a wardrobe, which had one of the windows with flower curtains overlooking the square.

"Remember, at dawn," Renfri said, before he went down the stairs back to the bottom floor.

Inside his new tiny room, Jaskier heard the sound of a door closing. When he was sure Renfri would not return, he sighed deeply, left his bag on the bed, a mattress with no sheets or blankets ready, and closed the window. He also drew the curtains. The window faced north, so it wouldn't get much light during the day, but.

He didn't think he'd be spending much time in that room anyway.

He took the bag off the bed and opened the closet. He found several bed sets, so he picked the first one in the pile and he laid out the sheets, the pillow, and the quilt. Then he opened his bag and took out what little clothing he had brought with him. Only clothes, no personal belongings that were not strictly necessary. He found his toothbrush and toothpaste at the bottom of the bag, along with the hairbrush. Jaskier brushed his teeth while filling the bathtub. He was grateful to find soap in the bathroom cabinet. He also took note of the first aid supplies he had. He assumed Renfri didn't spend much time in the house either, judging by how poorly conditioned it was. It didn't matter. Jaskier took a towel and his pajamas into the bathroom.

It took him a lot less time than it used to at home to take a bath, and not because he was sleepy.

When he came out of the bathroom, with his pajamas on and the towel over his shoulders, he walked down the hall and past the empty rooms quickly to his own. He closed the door and breathed a long sigh. Even if he did not smell closed or old, or a house that had not been used in a long time, Jaskier sensed an energetic tension in there.

He couldn't explain what it was.

Bit it was… nasty.

He turned off the light and got into bed looking at the door. There was silence, a tight silence. Jaskier gripped the sheets with his fingers. With all his senses alert, he only heard that silence. Not the crickets outside, not Renfri at the bottom floor. He held his breath.

But he was tired, so he soon closed his eyes, and his mind wandered into forests full of crisp leaves, vampires serving beer, and golden-eyed white wolves. It was fast.

That night Jaskier did not dream, exhausted, and slept soundly.

So soundly that he did not notice that, after midnight, the door of his room opened slowly with a faint squeak and stayed open all night.

#geraskier #the witcher #the witcher au #wardens of magic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #geralt x dandelion #dandelion #gerlion

17 notes · View notes

aelaer · 5 years ago

Text

Whumptober 31: Embrace

And somehow I've completed every prompt for @whumptober2019 with this final one here. Even more crazy, I basically completed NaNoWriMo with this series, only, you know, in October. The Google Doc all my fics live in for this series is at 51,299 words with the following fic's completion. Considering I was absolutely not attempting the challenge when I started this, I'm counting that as a complete NaNoWriMo, even if it does include a lot of the author's notes in that word count. Doesn't matter, it's still my writing!

So thank you very much to the mods for putting this together, because I would have never come up with all of these stories (which includes three series) otherwise.

I'll have the full list linked on my "bingo list" post, and the works have been slowly going up on AO3 for easier reading (and AO3 is only about a week behind at this point) - all the links will come probably in the next week or so. I'll reblog it when it's ready.

This one is the last one in the "demon" series within these prompt fills. If someone told me on the 2nd that my experimentation in first person would lead to this I wouldn't have believed them because I wouldn't have thought I was crazy enough to do every prompt while working a full time job on the freaking fly. *shakes head*

The series: Part One: 20 - Trembling Part Two: 22 - Alt 6 - Lost Part Three: 25 - Humiliation Part Four: 29 - Numb (and fanart(!!!!!) from dragonnan here, tw blood/wounds)

31. Embrace

Christine looked up at the Sanctum doors with a soft frown. Out of all the times she had been to Stephen's weird new home, this was the first time she could remember that she was coming without an advance notice of any sort.

The thing was, though, that after that… that thing (she really didn't like to think about it too much) over three months ago, Stephen had been acting odd. And even if they didn't tend to see each other more than once a month (and sometimes not even that), they kept in touch fairly consistently through texts. She knew he used her as a bit of a remaining connection to the so-called real world and she was happy to provide it. Besides, it was fun to share hospital gossip with him.

But for a while he had been very limited in his conversation until he stopped replying entirely two weeks ago. She texted Wong to see if he was especially busy "being a superhero" but he assured her that it's been relatively quiet since "the demon issue" (ugh, she really didn't want to think about it).

So here she was, come to figure out why the hell he was suddenly ghosting her.

After a moment of hesitation, Christine ascended the two steps up to the doors and firmly knocked upon them. After waiting for thirty seconds with no response, she bit her bottom lip and looked at her purse; maybe she should text someone, see if anyone was available—

Suddenly, the door opened… but she couldn't see anyone on the other side of it.

Magic house, right, she thought dryly as she stepped in. She knew a little bit of the weirdness that encompassed Stephen's new home, but generally speaking the building had acted like a proper, regular building every time she visited (and, to her own credit, she never went into any of the rooms that Stephen told her to leave alone. That made perfect sense to her, but apparently not everyone had her common sense, at least according to Wong).

Long story short, this was different.

"Uh, hello?" she called out into the empty foyer. "Stephen? Wong? … anyone?"

Yeah, it was completely empty. This was… this was definitely unusual.

Still, she had been at his house— the so-called Sanctum— enough times to remember where Stephen's study and the library were, so she decided to search those two rooms. Since the house had let her in, she figured she was more than welcome to.

If she wasn't, well, she'd blame the magic house.

She ventured first towards the library, careful not to touch anything sitting on the shelves or hanging on the walls. Even with her familiarity with the Sanctum, many of the items in the building's collection continued to look rather otherworldly or just felt outright wrong to her.

(Christine had learned early on, maybe her second or third time within the Sanctum, that they had a surprising amount of dangerous things on display for aesthetic purposes. At her remark about that, Stephen had pointed out that they didn't exactly have any children within the Sanctum to worry about. Wong later said that having magical items on display was a fantastic litmus test to weed out any really idiotic and self-destructive novices and apprentices, though that the test had somehow failed with Stephen. Stephen had flipped the bird at that remark, but she had seen it was in good nature, and it definitely made her happy to see the somewhat reclusive man making friends with his new cult.)

The library doors were closed. She knocked, then tried the handle; it opened and she peeked into a library that still looked like it was stuck somewhere in the nineteenth century. It was completely empty.

Now that she thought about it, it was a little weird she had yet to run into anyone. While Stephen's new home was rather empty the first few months he was there, it did not become uncommon to see the occasional passerby, though only a few people stopped to talk with her when she was with Stephen. When she really thought about it, she couldn't actually remember the last time she hadn't seen other people in the Sanctum.

Weird.

Christine shut the library doors again and started towards Stephen's study. It was closer to his bedroom (which she only knew because she came over to bring him soup when he had to cancel a meetup because he was sick, thank you very much), so she went up a level and headed there.

Stephen's study door was closed, too. She knocked and heard some sort of noise just beyond the door. Christine waited, but when nothing happened, she knocked again. "Stephen? It's me. Can I come in?"

Silence. She frowned and tried the door, but it didn't budge. "C'mon, Stephen. Even if you don't want to see me, at least reply to me." Even though she tried to pretend to be genuinely unbothered, the silent treatment did sting. He was meant to be a friend, after all.

The knob on the door jiggled and it opened, but all she saw in the small gap was shades of red. Why was the Cloak opening the door? Was Stephen hurt? At that alarming thought, Christine pushed the door fully open, the Cloak sweeping aside to give her full access of the room.

Stephen was… Stephen was sitting in the air, meditating, it looked like. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw he was okay, but her lips began to downturn as she stepped a bit closer. There were dark shadows under his eyes and it appeared like he had lost a bit of weight. Didn't Wong say that things were currently calm and uneventful? At the moment, Stephen looked something like he did after the alien invasion in 2012, only somehow worse. (She had, of course, seen even worse than this, but she refused to think back on the months after the accident. He was a different man, a much different man now.)

Christine took a couple steps back so she didn't startle him when he came back from wherever he went to when he was meditating. "Is he okay?" she whispered to the Cloak. It still astounded her how communicative the fabric could be.

And she really didn't like how it down-turned to bow its collar, only to end up shrugging its shoulders in a gesture that spoke of uncertainty. Her frown deepened and she went back to watching him and, finally accepting that he might take a while, asked the Cloak, "Are there any books here in English that are safe for me to read?" The Cloak tapped at several options, and she picked one at random to read.

It turned out it was about souls, of all things. She had keyed in that they were very much real things after… after everything that happened with the world in the last few years, but beyond that she only had a vague grasp of what it was, or what she thought it was, from the occasional visit to church as a kid.

The first five pages of the book were both incredibly dry and fascinating at the same time. It reminded her of many medical textbooks; no wonder Stephen was so good at this magic stuff, if this was the tone of the material in all his books. Christine settled down into a rather plush loveseat and got comfortable; her record for waiting on Stephen to "come back" was forty-five minutes, and during that wait Wong had proved to be surprisingly entertaining, funny, and kind. If anything, getting to know him better had made Christine feel a lot better about Stephen's very strange (hah) new role in life.

This time it was just after twenty minutes when she heard Stephen say in clear confusion, "Christine?"

She looked up from the book; he was now standing and his expression matched his tone. She offered a smile. "Oh, there you are."

"What are you doing here?"

If she didn't know him better, she might have been a bit miffed by that greeting. However, she did know him, knew him very well, and he sounded honestly puzzled. Still, she was more than happy to respond to bluntness with bluntness. "I came here to see why you're ghosting me."

Stephen looked startled by the accusation. "I'm not ghosting you— or certainly not intentionally. I've been too busy to check on my phone in a couple weeks."

"No, you haven't," Christine countered, and her comment surprised him so much that she was able to continue without interruption. "I asked Wong if things were busy and if you all were overworked with your jobs. He told me it's been so quiet that he finally got to catch up on the last two seasons of 90 Day Fiance and the newest season of Botched, and I still can't believe he enjoys trash TV so much."

He blinked and shook his head. "I knew you two talked sometimes, but— but that's not the point." He walked over to his desk; the Cloak followed him halfway before stopping in the middle of the room, and turned from him to her, and then back to him. He rounded the desk and flipped through several pieces of paper, looking them over as he said, "It's been quiet, yes, but that doesn't mean that I haven't been busy. There is always work to be done and I just don't have time for other things."

She narrowed her eyes at him and placed the book down before standing. The Cloak was again facing her as she took a couple steps forward. "Other things like the occasional break? Talking with friends? Sleeping?"

Stephen narrowed his eyes at her. "I've been sleeping just fine, thank you."

"Stephen, I can see the dark circles around your eyes from here. You're not hiding it from anyone."

He blinked and quickly strode over to a small mirror on the wall, back to her. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, but it was quiet enough in the room to hear. When he turned back around, the bags were completely gone and he looked fully refreshed.

Christine gaped. "You're using magic to hide your exhaustion? I can't believe you!" Actually, on second thought, she could very, very much believe he would do something like this. As one of his friends, he drove her absolutely insane sometimes.

"I do what I must," he retorted. "I am still relatively new to my position and there is entirely too much to do and learn, and I cannot show any faltering to the students of Kamar-Taj."

"What about your peers?" she retorted right back. "What about Wong or, or any of the others, these Masters? Does anyone know what you actually look like or what you're putting yourself through?"

"There is no need for them to," Stephen answered, lips pressed into a thin line. "Now if you'll excuse me, I do have work I need to do, as enjoyable as this little conversation has been."

Christine recognized that biting sarcasm a mile away. She pulled out her phone and looked for Wong in her contacts.

"What are you doing?" Now he sounded alarmed.

"Telling Wong that you need a damn babysitter," she snapped.

She managed to type a couple words of her text before she heard sparks and then a golden rope wrapped around her right wrist. It didn't hurt, but its sudden appearance caused Christine to drop her phone in surprise. Her eyes shot up at Stephen, who looked just as shocked as her by its presence in his hand. A beat later and the magic rope was gone and Stephen was stumbling backwards, clear horror in his eyes.

Okay, that was… not good he did it in the first place, but clearly he realized that and looked on the verge of panic. She pushed the issue to the side to talk about later and instead addressed what was in front of her right at this moment. "Hey, hey," she said slowly, calmly. She left her phone on the floor and took two slow steps forward. "It's okay, Stephen. You didn't hurt me. Not even a mark, see?" She lifted her wrist to show him. "It's alright."

"That was not alright," he said. He made it to the back wall and leaned heavily against it. "That was not alright at all."

"I am not angry at you," she answered slowly in a slow, calm voice. "Everything is okay."

"No it's not," he gasped, as if struggling for air. He slid down the wall until he was sitting, and Christine finished crossing the distance between them to sit a few feet away. He stared off for a moment, then met her eyes. "I could've hurt you."

"You didn't," she reminded him.

He shook his head. "But I— Christine, this is why we can't— I can't see you anymore. I only bring danger whether it's through my own actions or due to who I am."

"You are not completely yourself right now," she reminded him gently. "You're clearly exhausted, and even then you caught your temper immediately. That's a vast improvement from a few years ago." He snorted in self-derision, and she pressed on. "As for who you are, I've known for years that there might be risks. I'm okay with that."

"I'm not," he whispered.

She offered him a small smile. "You don't get to decide who wants to be your friend, Stephen. And I know you and your level of stubbornness, but you know I can be just as stubborn if I want to be. And you're worth the effort."

He closed his eyes and shuddered. "I'm not so sure I am."

"You are," she retorted a bit more strongly. Lips downturned in thought, she considered his words. "Is this about that… that demon thing that happened three months ago?" Come to think of it, that did about match the timing when he started seeming a bit off, at least in texting habits.

Stephen pressed his lips together. "That should have never happened. I failed to place basic protection about you and it was a gross oversight on my part."

"Congratulations, you're human," Christine deadpanned, then softened it with a small smile and added, "no matter how much you'd like to think otherwise." He took another shuddering breath and leaned his head back against the wall. In the corner of her eye she saw the Cloak hovering, as if anxious. And she definitely understood that feeling.

But this, this was a start. "Stephen," she said softly, "I think it's time you told us what exactly happened after you got me back home." He stilled, and she couldn't quite read him, but she said, "Please, Stephen. Let your friends back in." She reached out and laid a hand on his calf.

Again he shuddered and, after a moment, he slowly nodded. She gave him a small, encouraging smile before offering her hand. He took it and together they got back up on their feet.

She led him to the loveseat and had him sit down. She sat beside him and asked, "Is it okay if I have Wong join us? Or will that be too hard?"

Stephen closed his eyes and again pressed his lips together, but a moment later responded, "You can call him. He probably deserves an explanation as well."

Christine gently squeezed his forearm, then stood up and went for her dropped phone. She abandoned the text and tried calling Wong instead.

He picked up on the third ring. "Christine," he said in greeting. He didn't sound surprised (she wasn't sure if he ever allowed himself to sound surprised), but she'd like to think that he at least knew she wasn't calling for no good reason. They texted, not called. That was what they did.

"Hey Wong, are you busy?"

"Not with anything I cannot finish later," he replied. "Do you need something?"

"Not me," she answered, walking back to Stephen. He had his head bowed. She placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. "It's Stephen. He could use another friend here, if you don't mind."

A pause that, again, she couldn't read. "Certainly," he answered. "Where are you?"

"In his study. And um, if it wouldn't be too much to ask, could you make that tea of yours?" He made really good tea.

"I can," he answered, and with that he hung up. Succinct, as always.

"He'll probably be here as soon as the tea's ready," she said as she sat back down beside him. "I like his tea."

Stephen slowly nodded. "It's very good tea," he muttered.

Christine peered at his face. "Are you going to wear the mask around him?" she asked.

He exhaled, long and slow. "Not much point if we're having this conversation, is there?"

"It's okay to be human, Stephen."

He shot her a grim smile, and slowly the mask that covered his exhausted face dissipated. The Cloak closed the distance it had to the couch and hovered at Stephen's side.

A couple minutes later, a portal opened straight from the kitchen and Wong floated a tea tray into the study before following it in. The golden sparks disappeared behind him and he turned to look at the two of them on the couch. He stared at Stephen for a moment, then exhaled. "I suspected something," he muttered, almost as if to himself. He let the tray settle on the table in front of the loveseat and summoned the chair from the corner of the room to sit across from it, and from them. Wong settled in the seat and poured out three mugs of tea, keeping Stephen's only partially full. He gave them both their cups wordlessly, then sat back and looked at Stephen with silent, but unjudging expectation.

The man in question huffed as he grabbed the mug and took a short sip. "Now all I need is a blanket to get real cozy," he muttered.

The Cloak, in turn, twisted its way between Stephen's arms and legs and settled across both his and Christine's laps.

She laughed softly at his slight frown at the garment and patted the red fabric on her lap. "Good Cloak."

They fell into a patient silence after that, both Christine and Wong quietly drinking their tea as Stephen gathered his words. She could see his struggle in his small microexpressions that she had only learned after knowing him so well after so many years. Wong, she suspected, could read him nearly as well, if not equally.

Eventually he cleared his throat and began to speak. "In return for Christine to get back safely to Earth, I agreed with the demon Mephisto to play games of his choosing for the next twenty-four hours…"

Christine listened in growing horror as he described each game, seeing how this creature had somehow known about Stephen's innate need to protect and rescue innocents and how he dangled souls that, no matter their decisions, he would certainly see as people taken advantage of in desperate, awful times. Throughout his recollection she occasionally looked at Wong; the man's expression was completely frozen in a soft frown. She had a feeling that it was a mechanism to keep the absolute horror off his face. Goodness knew that she was doing her best to appear supportive and sympathetic as opposed to absolutely horrified.

It only got more difficult as Stephen's account went on. By the time he finally got to where he was let go back to Earth with the six souls he managed to save, her free hand was gripping the Cloak so tightly that she felt that she might rip through it, were it not the Cloak.

"I've replayed those hours time and again in my head," he muttered as he stared down at his shaking hands; the quivering had incrementally increased throughout the tale. "All I can think about is all the ways I could have done more, done better, saved more innocents. It was only due to his whims that I was able to save any."

"Oh, Stephen." She leaned towards him and, without asking for permission, engulfed him in a large hug. She felt the Cloak wrap around her side and she was sure it was pressing against Stephen on the other side.

She felt him let go for a moment and indulge in the embrace before pulling away, and she let go and gave him his space again. She watched him as he looked up to Wong, who had managed to keep his amazing poker face with only the slight frown throughout the conversation. "Wong," Stephen started, "I couldn't— I couldn't bear telling the other Masters about my failures in my first real test as Sorcerer Supreme. And I promise you, I've been doing everything in my power to bridge the gaps that remain in my knowledge and power so that I may be more capable in meeting such threats, whether I have the aid of the Vishanti or not."

Wong exhaled and clasped his hands together. "The experience you call a failure, Stephen, is what all of us consider a success," he started. Stephen immediately opened his mouth to argue, but Wong quickly said, "Let me finish, and try to listen to my words and not the doubt that plagues your mind as I speak." He leaned forward. "When you first left with the demon that refused to name itself, we thought it a lesser one that a sorcerer of your caliber could deal with, even on its own plane of existence. Any one of us present would have been able to, though it would not necessarily be easy. It was with that thought in mind that we left you with advice rather than protests, though Master Hamir was correct in his suspicions that the demon was unusually more powerful than those we've encountered in recent memory.

"I know you have been doing a lot of research on demonology, Stephen, and what information we have upon the greater demons known as the Hell-Lords. There is a reason that, despite thousands of years of collecting knowledge, what we know of them is so little. Hell-Lords are very powerful due to the number of souls they have attained over the uncounted millennia in which sentient, reasoning lifeforms have existed. They gather more souls to be ever the strongest, but they are not desperate for every sentient being they come across. Hell-Lords are unlike lesser demons in that they will kill if they don't think the person's soul is worth the effort."

Christine grabbed at the Cloak again and looked again to Stephen; he, in turn, was looking at her with a tight expression.

They both turned to Wong as the man continued, "Had we known this was one of the Hell-Lords, we would have done as much as we could to stop you, perhaps even by force— though I doubt that would have worked in our favour. So we would have seen you off and declared you dead, more than likely."

Stephen's brow furrowed. "Dead? Immediately? Why?"

"The last time a Sorcerer Supreme fought a Hell-Lord within their own domain and lived was the first one in Agamotto. The last time anyone encountered one was the Ancient One in Germany at the end of WWII. From what I understand there were three Hell-Lords present in the spring of 1945 in that country, but as they were upon Earth's plane, they were manageable. Facing one in its own dimension is unprecedented in modern history. That you were able to play its games with enough wit to not only survive, but to also bring back six souls that would have otherwise been lost, is a great victory."

Christine watched as Stephen's gaze fell to his hands, still trembling. "It did not feel like a victory," he mumbled. "Each test, each game I failed in some manner."

Wong shook his head. "Each test was specifically designed to take advantage of what Mephisto would consider your weaknesses, though I assure you your passion for the soul of the individual is considered one of your greatest strengths by all of us." Stephen lifted his head in surprise, but Wong continued on. "Consider this: if it had been Hamir in your place, one of his tests would have involved something that would give a person with two hands a distinct advantage. If it had been Minoru, you know there would have been something with spiders." Stephen's lips twitched upward, and Wong raised his brow pointedly. "The point, Stephen, is that this demon is known as a deceptive trickster. He twisted his so-called games to place you in the worst possible position and keep you in a position of doubt."

"Out of all of this, what I do find concerning," Wong admitted, "is that he knew you so well. It is possible that he has been watching you for some time."

Stephen's brow furrowed. "Why would he do that?"

"It is hard to say," he answered. "Demons are soulless creatures with no concept of time beyond the souls which they trick and enslave. It is thought that some have some greater perception of the wider multiverse and their realities; it is possible that Mephisto has some small knowledge from that."

Christine did not like where this conversation was going, and there was still one rather important thing to address at that time. "I think what you should get out of this, Stephen," she started, "is that you are most certainly not a failure. You can't be so hard on yourself."

He gave her an imploring look, as if willing her to understand him. "I have a great responsibility to this world and I cannot—"

"No, she's completely right," Wong interrupted. "Kamar-Taj calls for devotion wholly to defending reality, but you can't do that if you're half-dead from exhaustion."

"I'm not—"

"You wouldn't be using glamour if it wasn't an issue," Wong pointed out, and Stephen had nothing to retort to that. "And," he added, "the occasional lunch or ice cream break is not only permitted, but encouraged to retain one's sanity and reminder as to why we do what we do."

Stephen gave him a long look. "Are you saying you do it for ice cream?"

"And so that reality TV may flourish unhindered," Wong replied, and Christine quickly covered a surprised laugh. "If there are indeed areas you believe you may be lacking in knowledge, all the Masters will be more than willing to assist you, though I feel that you are equal if not more knowledgeable in most fields. But we can talk about that tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Why tomorrow?"

"Because you look absolutely awful and clearly need to sleep for the next twenty-four hours," he retorted.

Stephen frowned. "I'm awake and functioning."

Christine wrinkled her nose. "Barely. Get some sleep!"

The Cloak lifted itself off their laps and waited expectantly beside the study door, causing its keeper to make a face at it.

Wong stood up and walked over to him, offering him a hand. "Listen to your friends. We can discuss more details about what happened and where we need to go tomorrow, but for now, you need to rest. No matter what you have been telling yourself, you do deserve it."

He hesitated, but for only a couple seconds before taking Wong's proffered hand and letting his friend hoist him up. "Don't let me sleep too long," Stephen muttered.

"You're sleeping for the next week if you have to," Wong retorted.

"I can get some drugs that would do that," Christine quipped as she got to her feet.

"No need; we have spells that can do the same, but thank you for the offer all the same."

"You're both terrible," Stephen moaned as he trudged to the door. The Cloak fit itself snugly across his shoulders.

"You're welcome," she said in return, and he glanced at her with a soft, but very warm smile that still made her heart do things that it shouldn't do, all these years later. Damn that man. "I'll text you."

"You'll hear from me," he promised, and then he turned and let Wong and the Cloak usher him towards his bedroom for some much-needed sleep and, for the first time in a long time, a peaceful time of rest.

—————

(Anndddd the series is done! Wooow. Whoda thought this was going to be a thing, because I certainly didn't.

You can take the headcanon that Wong is an enthusiastic fan of trashy reality TV shows from my cold dead hands. Definitely inspired by my two co-workers I work with the most, though I have had the occasional reality TV show binge watch.)

#whumptober2019 #no.31 #embrace #stephen strange #doctor strange #christine palmer #wong #doctor strange fanfic #genre: angst #genre: friendship #my writing #my fanfiction

32 notes · View notes